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the-boy-meets-evil · 1 month

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not according to plan | hjs (teaser)

summary: your ex-fiance is getting married and everyone you know is going to be there. when he calls to ask if you're coming, you accidentally mention a boyfriend. which would be fine, if you weren't very single. thankfully your best friend comes through with the perfect solution when he sets you up with a friend of his.

pairing: joshua x f.reader genre: fake dating, strangers to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut rating: explicit (in the full fic), minors DNI word count: ~1.1k in this teaser (full fic ~22k) notes: johnny suh as the ex (sorry!), also includes other idols not in seventeen solely as face claims, there's a heavy focus on the fake dating, mentions of food & drink, warnings to be added to the final fic fic post date: friday, april 26th (full fic here)

a/n: i started this legit months ago as kind of a joke, talking about it with @shuadotcom but it's finally done (and a lot longer than i anticipated).

thank you to: @wonwussy & @kwanisms who read over this for me (too long ago), and to @cheolism @wooahaeproductions @hannieween, & sj for all the brainstorming help along the way. tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone @crepecakeu

if you'd like to be tagged in this fic (or any of my fics), comment, click here for my tag list, or send an ask 💕

You still think this is a terrible idea, yet agree to meet Jeonghan’s friend, Joshua, anyway. Apparently, he’s somewhat new to the area, doesn’t know many people, and is incredibly easy to be around. There’s no mention of why Jeonghan thinks he might be willing to pretend to be your boyfriend. A part of you wonders if your friend even told him, but he’s not that cruel. So, whatever the case, Joshua must at least have some idea of what he’s walking into.

Several days pass between the nightmare of a call from Johnny and you actually meeting Joshua, which only adds to your anxiety about whether or not this is going to work. Johnny is asking for a name for the seating chart and for dinner selections. Your mom wants to know when they’ll be able to meet this new boyfriend before the wedding (because “meeting him for the first time at a wedding is gauche” and we wouldn’t want that). Your sister is convinced that he doesn’t actually exist since you haven’t posted him on social media. That you can at least answer to say that not everyone posts their entire life online like she does. It doesn’t seem to allay her suspicions, though.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re actually meeting Joshua for the first time at dinner. All you wanted was to go for coffee, yet he insisted. You couldn’t exactly press the point. Not when you’re planning to ask this stranger to pretend to date you just so that you can avoid the embarrassment at your ex’s wedding. On top of that, because Jeonghan really is a demon at his core, you don’t know what Joshua looks like. Don’t know who to look for. Which leads to you doing the only sensible thing and showing up 5 minutes late for dinner, hoping that he’ll already be at the table when you get there.

It works.

When you give the reservation name at the host stand, you’re immediately led back to a table. Without even thinking about it, you smooth your hands down the front of your dress, looking for a small amount of comfort in this situation. It’s not even that you struggle around new people, this is just…well, it’s a lot. It’s out of anyone’s comfort zone. Whatever you’re expecting, it’s not the man sitting at the table the host leads you to. He nearly stops you in your tracks.

His black hair is perfectly styled down to the pieces on one side that come down over his forehead. The black dress shirt he wears is open at least one button too many, but he makes the exposed chest look work in a way models would envy. Even though his pants are black as well, he makes it look classic and effortless, rather than too dark. That’s all without even acknowledging the soft smile on his face. This man would break a thousand hearts without even saying a damn word. While you’re appreciating him, you miss the way his eyes rake over you appreciatively. Miss the way his eyes trace your curves and the way the dress clings to you.

In one fluid motion, he’s standing up to greet you, a gentle kiss placed on your cheek. Is it weird if your knees are a little weak? Well, even if it is, there’s nothing you can do. You’re completely captivated.

“You must be Joshua,” you say. Brilliant, you think. That’s obvious.

“It’s nice to meet you. Jeonghan had nothing but good things to say,” he answers with another smile as he pulls your seat out for you.

“I feel like he hardly told me about you,” you respond. Joshua raises a perfect eyebrow at that.

“Then why did you agree to go out with me?” Joshua asks.

“Go out with…is this a date?” The question comes tumbling out.

Joshua’s eyes widen in genuine confusion. “Is it not?”

“What, exactly, did Jeonghan say to you?”

A lot and nothing at all, it turns out. Joshua tells you about how he’s somewhat new to the area, which you knew. About how he met Jeonghan through work, kind of. They work in the same building doing very different things and happened to run into each other getting coffee a handful of times before Jeonghan introduced himself. The two had hung out several times, something Jeonghan had not really mentioned, and gotten to know each other over drinks more than once. The very first time, Jeonghan had mentioned you and Joshua admits immediately being intrigued without pressing for more information.

In any case, Jeonghan talked about you pretty freely, a fact that’s hardly surprising. Before Joshua texted you, Jeonghan had mentioned, in what Joshua calls an offhand way, that you were sick of dating the same people. According to Joshua, through Jeonghan, you were looking to possibly be set up. (Read: Jeonghan thinks he’s crafty and isn’t going to come out and tell this man what you’re really looking for. Typical Jeonghan, honestly. You know that “offhand comment” was anything but. And you had the audacity to think Jeonghan would have to tell Joshua what he’s getting into. Rookie move.)

Now you’re in a bit of an awkward situation because this man is honestly gorgeous, one of the prettiest humans you’ve ever met. And, already, he seems like he might be sweet with a pretty good sense of humor. It’s just…well, you’re absolutely not looking for a relationship and this is the last person you want to get involved in your mess. Thankfully, you get a moment to catch your breath when someone comes by to take a drink order and suggest an appetizer. It’s just enough time for you to talk yourself into telling Joshua the real story.

To his credit, he only looks mildly surprised as you outline your whole situation, inform him that yes, Jeonghan does know all of this, and clarify why you didn’t actually realize it was a date. It’s hard to miss the way his eyes seem to sparkle a bit when you also admit that he’s absolutely stunning in a way that hurts your feelings. Easier to miss is the way his face barely falls when you say that you’re not actually looking for something right now. Interesting.

“So that’s the whole thing and now that I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you, I’m sure you’ll understand if we never see each other after tonight,” you finish.

“How am I supposed to go to a wedding as your boyfriend in a matter of weeks if we don’t see each other after tonight?” Joshua wonders.

let me know if you want to be tagged when i post the full fic next week 💕 (and what you think so far)

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fatesundress · 1 year

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⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this.

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same.

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it.

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction?

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet.

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner.

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party.

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten.

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again."

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him.

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins.

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks.

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them.

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did."

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.”

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything — is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting.

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers.

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient.

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still.

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in.

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him.

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x y/n #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #NO LONGER!#but it is only a two-parter sorry. this is it #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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madelynraemunson · 7 months

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

(strip club owner!eddie × fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!× reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ minors get out of my kitchen

Chapter 010: The Freak

A fight breaks out at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 4.4k words

warnings & disclaimers — mentions of seggs tr@ff!ck!ng, lots of blood, violence, physical altercation, profanities, glass shattering, screaming, jealousy

“I feel it coming, my soul cannot be found. I feel it coming, don’t fucking tie me down.”

♡

Eddie is glued to Nina’s hip during her orientation.

You can hardly watch. You can’t even listen. All Back of the House seems to be talking about is the fact that the cute new girl pulled up to work with Eddie. Apparently she skipped out of the passenger side of his van stoned out of her mind, waltzing in absentmindedly while Eddie opened the door for her.

Nina’s excuse was that she didn't have a ride to work. And while that may be true, your jealousy was projecting itself...hard. The times you were in Eddie’s van sitting right where she was were completely unrelated to work.

But Nina is a pretty girl. Eddie does love doing favors for pretty girls who flatter him.

You still couldn’t figure out why no one will talk about anything else. Like how Henry has evidently been spiraling into a lonely, seasonal depressive episode and could snap any minute. Or how whoever is closing isn’t sweeping the aisle all the way through. Also, one of the lights keeps flickering. Totally throws off the whole vibe of VECNA’S LAIR.

But no, the hot topic of today’s shift is still Nina and Eddie.

It's an awakening for you though. Now you really understand and have accepted that you are no different from everyone else.

Eddie’s jokes? He recycles with everybody.

Food? Makes for everybody.

Smoking and drinking in his van? With everybody.

Calls on Henry to fight off the bad guys? Yes, for everybody…

You are not special.

Speaking of Henry…he’s off task again. Luckily lunches are usually not busy so he can afford to be away from the door.

Henry is at VECNA’S LAIR with you, chatting away with Eddie’s buddy Gareth while you give Gareth a lap dance. And you can tell by the eagerness in Henry’s eyes that he’s anticipating his dance that you agreed to do for him to combat his loneliness.

“You gotta let me know how your dance goes, Creel,” Gareth grins. “Shy Girl is one of the best.”

Gareth is one of your regulars. He went to school with Eddie, played in his band Corroded Coffin when they were younger, and he also tips well. Eddie usually stays and chats with him, but today he is off and aloof, avoiding any type of eye contact with the both of you.

Screw Eddie. He’s seemed to have forgotten about you already now that there’s a new toy for him to play with.

“I love how you move your hips, babe,” Henry comments, snapping you back into reality. “And how you bond with every customer. I had no idea men pay you just to talk to them sometimes.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” you nod all while grinding yourself onto Gareth, hands combing through his wavy hair and trailing down to graze his neck. “Some guys just come here just to vent. Business men, teachers, doctors...”

“That’s really nice,” Henry blushes.

“Bouncers too,” you wink at him. “You know, when they’re not clocked in and supposed to be working.”

Henry’s eyes widen as he realizes, and soon he’s back up and starting towards the door. You and Gareth share an innocent chuckle about it before carrying on with your business.

"I can tell that dude is lonely," Gareth makes the same observation. "He doesn't have that many friends outside work."

"I wonder why," you ponder aloud, doing a little dance on Gareth’s lap. "He's so nice."

"From what Eddie told me, it's hard for Henry to open up to people," your patron explains. "Dude had a fucked up home life when he was younger. Dad was a piece of shit to him and his sister. Abused the shit outta 'em and their mom."

There's a pattern here. You try not to think about it.

"Anyways," Gareth says pulling out a $20 bill. "Can you give me scratches on my back? Trying to make an ex flame jealous."

"You manipulative fuck," you banter, snagging the $20 from him anyway. "I'm sure you have your reasons though."

So you honor Gareth's requests and leave some sharp etchings on his back, one large scratch in the shape of a heart.

You scan the club as you work, searching for your sister. Max is spotted near the entrance of the club, acquainting herself with Lucas and Dustin. She also met Steve earlier today and admitted to you that she has an innocent crush on him.

Of course she would. Who wouldn’t have a crush on The King?

You smile at how easy Max makes friends. She tries not to look at you while working but sometimes her curiosity takes over.

Gareth nods towards her.

"I see your sister knows the big secret now."

"Yeah, one less thing to worry about," you shrug sheepishly.

"She's supportive, I'm assuming?"

"Very."

"That's good," Gareth rubs your back. "I'm happy for you."

“Thanks,” you smile.

You catch sight of Steve next as he walks over to you. He greets you with a warm kiss and rests a hand at your waist.

Eddie watches you with Steve and Gareth, attempting to remain composed and professional with Nina as he spots her on the pole.

"What is going on here?" Steve asks you.

"I'm trying to make one of Gareth's ol' lady friends jealous," you explain. "Leaving him scratches and all."

"I love your sharp ass nails," Gareth swoons. He hands you a five.

"You are just spoiling me today,” you coo. “You can pick out my nail color next, Gare.”

"Green," Gareth answers right away.

"Yeah, I second that," Steve agrees.

Steve leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back, affectionately, relishing in how beautiful Steve always made you feel. Meanwhile, Gareth watches, running his hands softly across your thighs and muttering a soft, “fuck…”

And then you hear Eddie clear his throat closeby you.

"Jesus H. Christ," you hear Eddie grimace.

Eddie sounds uncomfortable. Good. It is not until someone else speaks that you realize he was shaken up about something else.

“Well well well,” comes a voice. “Looking just as skanky as you did when I last saw you.”

You look to see the patron standing by the entrance. He’s the scariest he’s ever looked. Your heart sinks to the floor.

It’s hard for you to find the words. “You...”

“Boo,” he grins, amused at how startled you are. “Kinda insulting that you think all these men can give you more than I can.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you demand.

Frantic footsteps sound not too long after, and Henry comes spilling in. He looks mortified, panicked. He had one job and he failed to do it.

“Hargrove, I’m sorry!”

“Henry!” you scold him, almost at a scream-whisper. “You weren’t supposed to let him in!”

“I didn’t know!” Henry exclaims.

“I thought Eddie told you!”

“I forgot!” Henry says. “It all happened so fast.”

“Yeah, security here sucks,” the man you’re tempted to throw something at smirks.

A crowd starts to form, which is odd because no one said anything that inherently stood out. But energy doesn’t lie. The tension in the room is noticeable.

“You can’t be here,” Eddie’s voice darkens.

Eddie makes his way down from the stage and to the front of the club, Nina watching in confusion as everyone huddled around. Eddie clears his throat and stands with his chest propped forward, chin raised along with his gritted teeth.

“You’re not welcome here,” your boss snaps.

“That’s no way to talk to a customer…”

“I know who you’re here for and you can’t have her,” Eddie growls.

Eddie looks over at you. Making his way into the crossfire, Eddie creates even more space between the two of you. Henry stays where he’s at on high alert.

“And I own this joint. So I can refuse service to anyone… Billy.”

Your twin brother flashes a dangerous, amused smile. “I see I’ve become a household name.”

Billy inches closer to you, leaving you paralyzed in place.

He looks different from when you last saw him. A lot more muscular. His beer belly is gone, and he finally shaved that obnoxious porn stache that he swore drew in all the ladies. Billy looks more satisfied at your horror than angry at who you’ve become.

A million thoughts are racing through your head. How could your brother have possibly known where you are? Did you leave your location on? Did you butt-dial him? Was it 'twintuition'?

Then you remember he's Billy. And a sociopath like Billy always finds a way to win.

“Eddie Munson,” Billy continues. “Owner of The Hellfire Club. Drug dealer. Car jacker. The town FREAK who’s notorious for sleeping with his employees before attempting to sell them into a sex trafficking ring in the outskirts of town.”

“That is SO NOT TRUE!” you hear Chrissy scream from behind the boys.

“Oh, hey Cherry!” Billy chimes. “Huge fan of your work. So is Eddie, though. And a million other men, so what makes me special huh?”

Henry is hovering, lingering between Eddie and Billy with a stance you knew all too well. The angled torso, a hand floating ready to butt in. The memories come flooding into the room in the form of burning tears against your waterline. Your throat is tight.

“How…the fuck…” you choke. “Did you find me?”

Billy flashes you his phone. Looking through his cracked screen, you see that the evidence is all on Reddit. Sure enough, there you were, doing your thing in a video surrounded by tons of men, exposing your birthmark that’s oh so similar to Billy’s.

“This girl is so fucking hot!” a Redditor comments.

“What’s her name?” someone asks.

“She goes by Shy Girl,” another answers. “Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club in Hawkins, IN.”

It’s no surprise that Billy follows the ‘stripper’ Sub-Reddit. You’ve gone viral, so of course he was bound to see it.

“Ever heard of a digital footprint?” Billy questions darkly. “Shy Girl?”

You gulp. In the age of technology, you should’ve known that your cover would be blown if you stood out well enough. How could you be so stupid?

“Oh look!” your brother chuckles. “There it is, the biggest giveaway of all. Right front and center… your birthmark."

“You win,” is all you can say. “You can stop now.”

“I’m not trying to win anything,” Billy jeers. “I’m just saying, if you had a brain, you would’ve at least thought to cover it up with makeup or something.”

Eddie looks over at you with sad eyes. It’s the first time he truly looked helpless. A part of him also looks like his own cover is blown too. You can’t help but wonder why.

“Yeah, you could say I did my research,” Billy draws on. He shoves his phone back into his pocket. “It kept me occupied on the plane. The news articles aren’t hard to find either. Hawkins is pretty small. A whole shoebox compared to Leucadia.”

His eyes dart back to Eddie. “And I’ve read up a lot about you.”

“You know the media loves to twist things,” Eddie hisses. “Especially if everything about me fits the narrative they’re trying to sell.”

Billy decides to challenge him. “So you’re saying everything is fake news?”

Eddie doesn’t comment. It strikes you odd that Eddie doesn’t even try to defend himself. What could he and Billy possibly be talking about it?

“Funny, I on the contrary believe you’ve earned your reputation,” Billy insists.

“What is he talking about Eddie?” you ask.

“Just forget about it,” Eddie shuts down.

“Yeah, forget about it,” Billy somewhat agrees. He turns to you. “You’re coming with me.”

You turn to Max. She watches, terrified as Billy ushers you in the corner. You’re too drained to fight back so you let him. But when you finally meet his eyes, Billy looks like your brother again.

“Seriously, WHAT were you thinking?” his voice shows genuine concern.

Billy sounds more disappointed now than vengeful.

“This is all because of YOU,” you snap. “I had no choice.”

“That’s your bullshit excuse?” Billy demands, eyes welling up with tears. “You’re a fucking waitress! I’m sure Benny’s down the block would’ve sufficed.”

Billy’s an asshole, for sure. But at the end of the day he’s still a multifaceted human. When the trauma doesn’t take over, he’s a level-headed individual. A clear thinker with good critical thinking skills and an ability to read the room. Something you’ve spent your whole life second-guessing yourself over.

Your brother continues his tangent.

“YOU HAVEN’T DANCED IN YEARS, first of all. The only ‘stripping’ you know is when you go skinny dipping with your little hoe friends at Black's Beach. You don’t have a permit to dance, which I’m pretty sure is illegal somehow because EVERYWHERE ELSE in Indiana requires a stripping permit. You don’t even know anything about what this industry entails, yet you cannonball headfirst into it like it’s just easy. This industry is a hotspot for sex trafficking. Millions and women and little girls are kidnapped every year and forced into sex work, don’t you know that?”

Billy nudges the ribbons in your hair.

“Child-like ribbons in your hair too. You disgust me.”

He pauses. It’s like he has an epiphany. The devilish smirk returns.

“But maybe Eddie knew that,” he tuts, waving a stupid finger of his in the air. “BINGO! With the little experience you have, Eddie must’ve known you were naive. Desperate. A little bit of a slut. Eddie knew he just HAD to get his hands on you. Take advantage of you. Exploit you.”

“Shut up.”

You knew Billy was being dumb. But what he says makes sense. And in the depths of your wounded heart, what he said felt true in a sense. Because there was a time you did feel betrayed by Eddie. Meanwhile Eddie has gone pale.

All eyes are on you now, and not for the reason you want. Sure, it’s a strip club. But never have you ever felt so naked. Never has your soul ever felt so exposed.

“Yeah…” Billy grins. It’s like you can see the gears grinding in his head. He flashes Eddie a disgusted look. “That’s exactly what it is. You know, you give me the creeps, Munson. Sure you hear that a lot.”

“You give me the creeps…Hargrove,” Eddie counters. “With how IN LOVE you seem to be with your sister.”

Eddie takes a few steps towards him to elaborate.

“Showing up to the place she strips at…causing a scene when you see her on someone’s lap… and then proceeding to tell her no one will love her like you do?”

Eddie scoffs.

“Yeah. Totally not creepy.”

“We’re family, Eddie,” Billy sighs. “Families love each other. Of course you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Hey, douchebag—” Steve begins but Chrissy stops him.

“Too fucking far, Billy,” you plead. “Stop.”

“You know what else I found out?” Billy smiles. “Your boy toy Eddie comes from a long line of crooks.”

Billy turns to Eddie. “Your half brother Eagan is a con man in Montauk, New York. And your other brother Ansen Wayne back in Memphis got arrested for, guess what? Arson! Funny.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Chrissy roars again.

But Billy proceeds. “And if I’m not mistaken, your dad Al is a drug dealer who married one of his clients, your mother. And guess what? When she wasn’t bringing him any money? He pimp slapped her in broad daylight and eventually slit her throat.”

Billy looks you in the eyes when he says that.

“How tragic,” Billy breathes. “Dad killing Mom.”

Billy turns back to Eddie.

“One dysfunctional ass family. And a poor excuse of a son.”

“Takes one to know one,” Eddie spits.

Billy laughs and nods. You’re surprised that doesn’t set him off.

“I’m not entertaining this,” your brother refuses. “I’m trying to be a better person, but Munson you are pushing it. Nah, my family is where I draw the line. Come on, sis. You’re coming with me.”

Yanking you by the wrist, Billy pulls you along with him.

“No,” you refuse.

But his grip is too tight. Now you’re just along for the ride.

“I would never do anything to hurt your sister,” Eddie says, running after you both. Henry follows closely behind Eddie. “Surely that’s something you can’t say.”

“You’d never do anything to hurt her?” Billy halts challenging him with the most satisfied grin on his face. “You’d never do anything to hurt her?”

Eddie nods. Billy releases you, sending you flying forward into Max’s arms. She’s shaking when you wrap your arms around her for comfort.

“What happened to Isabelle then, Eddie?” Billy taunts him. “Court records are also public, you know.”

Isabelle. Eddie’s ex-girlfriend. How does Eddie’s ex-GF fit into Hellfire’s narrative? In your mind you always thought Isabelle was a random chick.

The whole room is silent. It’s like a wave washed over everybody. Eddie simply stands there, no visible reaction besides the look of defeat.

Something tells you something is very, very wrong. Finally, Eddie speaks.

“Don’t you EVER bring up my wife again,” Eddie’s voice is breaking. “I loved her with my whole heart.”

Your world stops. Everyone else’s keeps going.

“Your wife?” you exclaim. “You have a wife?”

Billy exudes a Joker-like laugh as he watches the lore unravel.

“Ex-wife,” Eddie corrects himself. “We’re separated.”

His gaze burns into Billy.

“Since you’re such a historian, Hargrove,” Eddie hisses. “I’m afraid you missed the part where Isabelle used me to get her hands on my business and then weaponized the fact that she’s a woman to try and tarnish it during our separation. But of course, it doesn’t feed your narrative about me so you’re purposely leaving it out.”

“That’s what you get then,” Billy’s tongue glides against his inner cheek. “For getting involved with an employee. They’re all the same. A bunch of gold-digging whores.”

It all makes sense now. You look over at Eddie. Plastered on his face is the same haunted eyes he had the night he tried to resist your advances. Now you know why Eddie was so hesitant to pursue you. He wasn’t playing hard to get. He was guarding his heart. And his business.

“So, you wanna tell us about the trafficking ring?” Billy questions.

“I didn’t try to sell her,” Eddie spat. “God dammit. Our marriage was bleeding into work so I had to send her to a different club. One I thought I trusted. But the owner stabbed me in the back also.”

“Yeah!” Chrissy adds. “He was an undercover pimp! Didn’t you read the court docs on the plane like you said?”

“He’s not exactly book smart, Chris,” Eddie smirks. “Too many big words for his big brain to handle.”

There’s nothing else for Billy to say. His failed attempt to paint Eddie as the bad guy and him as the hero did not go to plan. But as usual, Billy wants the last word.

“Stay away from my sister.”

And soon your wrists are suffocated by his grip again. You whimper in fear as Billy drags you along, angrily pulling you towards the exit while resisting your kicks and shoves.

“This is what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna go put your fucking clothes on,” Billy’s voice shakes. “Grab your shit, and you and Max are gonna come back home with me. Away from this shady bullshit.”

You can tell Billy is also terrified for you. But this is your story to write now. Not his. This is a narrative he cannot control.

“No!” you scream. “My new life is HERE.”

“The fuck it isn’t,” Billy denies. “Your life and Max’s lives are in California.”

“Are you deaf?” Steve demands. “She said no. Let her go.”

“Aw, now Walmart Ashton Kutcher has something to say!”

“Leave me alone, Billy,” you wail. “We are not going with you.”

“It’s all an inside job,” Billy is shaking now. “He’s no good for you, sis. Don’t you understand? How can you be so blind?”

“It’s my journey!” you roar. “And my life. You don’t get to control me anymore, especially since you’re part of the problem. And I’d rather be provided for by men like you than live with you ever again.”

Billy can only chuckle. “You’re delusional.”

He grabs Max on the way out.

“Max come on.”

“NO!” Max refuses.

Steve jumps in front of her and pulls her behind him. Billy rushes to grab Steve but is pushed back by Henry.

“Why are you grabbing Harrington?” Henry demands.

“Why’s he grabbing my sister?”

You’re waiting for Billy to face Henry’s wrath. He’s already trying to create space between the both of you so that you can wriggle free.

“HEY!”

To your surprise, the fist that meet’s Billy’s nose isn’t Henry’s.

“EDDIE!” Chrissy shrieks.

“WHOA MAN!” Steve screams, trying to run and stop the fight but Henry tackles him.

“EDDIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Dustin demands. “EDDIE, STOP!”

Billy is blindsided by Eddie with little to no time to react. Eddie gets two good punches in when he’s sprawled on top of him.

But Billy is quick to bounce back. Already accustomed to punches, Billy allows Eddie a few more blows to tire him out. When his hair gets in the way, Billy grabs Eddie by the wrist and tosses him off, hoisting himself over him to get him in a headlock.

“Son…of…a BITCH!” Eddie elbows him.

And as Billy scrunches to block his ribcage, Eddie gets him with a good left hook and a right cross-jab.

Blood splatters from Billy’s nose onto the surrounding area.

“HOLY SHIT!” Dustin shrieks.

“BILLY!” Maxine screams.

“You guys, STOP!” you order.

You rush over to your brother and attempt to pry him off. Steve rushes to Eddie and tries to do the same.

Billy’s stumbling back, unusual since he always wins fights. This is causing you to stumble back and lose your grip on him. Eddie gets a few more good punches in.

Jab. Jab. Jab. Jab-cross. Upper cut. Upper cut. And a seismic kick to the solar plexus.

Eddie Munson is strong.

“EDDIE, LEAVE HIM ALONE!” cries Chrissy. “YOU’RE GONNA KILL HIM IF YOU DON’T STOP.”

“Yeah?” Eddie mutters. “Well that’s kinda the plan.”

When he hears that, Henry stops whatever he’s doing to charge towards Billy and Eddie. You feel yourself grow lightheaded because of the amount of blood that has been expelled. You can almost smell the iron.

“Nope. That’s enough,” Henry declares, dragging your boss away this time.

Eddie has the advantage now during this time, and he uses all of it, punching Billy mercilessly into the ground. Billy tries to get up, but fails, and just when he’s not looking, Eddie sneaks a few roundhouse kicks to his head and neck.

The blood starts to pool.

“EDDIE, STOP!” everyone continuously chants.

“EDDIE, LET IT GO MAN!” Gareth begs.

“EDDIE, GET OFF OF HIM NOW!” Chrissy pleads.

“IT’S NOT WORTH IT!” Steve says to him.

“YES THE FUCK IT IS!” Eddie roars. “IT IS WORTH IT!”

The sound of glass shattering fills your ears as you look over at the boys. Henry managed to tackle Eddie in one brisk movement, unfortunately taking a small table that housed some beer bottles on it with them.

Now it smells like rust and Corona.

Gareth and Steve take over now, pulling Eddie away while Eddie cusses Billy out through his bloody nose. Meanwhile, Max rushes to Billy’s side and urges him to get out. Henry runs to her aid, dragging out your volatile twin brother so he wouldn’t harm anybody else. Billy’s out of sight now, but the thought of him still lingering in Hawkins until he sees you two again is unsettling.

“Whoa,” Steve exhales.

“What?” you ask him, crossing your arms in frustration.

“Eddie just fought someone,” he pants. “Your brother, Billy at that.”

You try to shrug it off. “Big deal,” you say. “Fights happen all the time here.”

“You don’t understand Hargrove,” Henry says, walking up you. “Eddie never fights anyone.”

You turn to face Henry.

“That’s what I’m here for,” the unscathed bodyguard explains.

———————-

The first person you go over to is Max. Consoling each other, you both hug one another and rock back and forth.

You look off into the corner and see Dustin with a tampon, trying to shove it up Eddie’s bloody nose while Nancy watches in amusement. Eddie swats Dustin’s hands away, mumbling, “Get that shit away from me” and setting for Kleenex instead.

“Shy Girl,” Nancy calls out. “Please come and get your man.”

Confused that she’s even talking to you that way, it dawns on you that Nancy is talking about Eddie. You walk towards Nancy, who is behind the bar, supervising Eddie and Dustin from a distance.

“Do you have some ice?” you ask her.

She holds up a pack she had been preparing.

“Way ahead of you love,” Nancy says.

You chuckle and thank Nancy as you take the ice from her. She gives you a nod, you’re welcome.

“He’s not my man, by the way,” you add, correcting her. “Just did something really sweet.”

“Well does his ass know that?” Nancy raises a brow. “Only a dumbass in love does shit that crazy and stupid.”

You look over at Eddie. His eyes find you at the same time. Chrissy is over in the corner with Nina, talking her down from the anxiety witnessing a fight that bloody must’ve caused her. Steve is over at the lair still, thinking. You can’t read the expression on his face.

Your grip on the ice pack tightens as you walk closer to Eddie. He gives you a nod and a terrible excuse of a wave, slowly wincing in pain after the slightest raise of his left arm.

“You are vile,” you say in his voice from the day it all fell apart. You extend your hand with the ice pack in it to him.

Feeding into your truce, Eddie looks up at you with a faint smile. He takes the ice pack in his hand.

“I prefer the term protective,” he parrots you.

———————————

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#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 5 #eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie x reader #Joseph quinn #Joe quinn #Steve harrington #SoundCloud

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xxbimbobunnyxx · 1 year

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American Idiot: King!Steve Harrington x Goth!reader.

Summary: Enemies (kinda?)to lovers, opposites attract, early 00s college AU. Steve Harrington had it all. Money, popularity, the perfect girlfriend. He had his whole life planned and laid out for him, and he accepted that. Working for his dad and marrying his collage sweetheart wouldn’t be so bad, right? That’s what he thought at least, until he got paired to do a project with you and you turned his world upside down. WK: 6.1k 18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, steve is still “king Steve” in the beginning, reader kissing someone other than Steve, oral(M&F receiving) unprotected sex(reader is on birth control), lil bit of daddy kink, Steve and reader kiss before he dumps his gf but he does it like right after though, reader smokes a lil weed. I think that’s it? Lmk if I missed any!! My masterlist

A/N: this was born from something I was tagged in where you saved the last character and song you listened to and I got Steve and American idiot and the fact that I have seen so many Eddie opposites attract fics and not enough about Steve with an alt GF. The reader is very much self indulgent for me but I left her description as vague as possible. I think the only thing I mentioned is the shirt she’s wearing and the fact that she’s wearing a skirt. Also I added “Dylan” because I really wanted to make him Eddie but I knew I’d end up involving him too much if he was in it at all lmao. I hope you guys like it!! I’d love feedback so much!✨

You aren’t exactly sure how you let Robin talk you into coming with her to this party but you are deeply regretting it. You were standing in a corner of the packed living room with a red solo cup that you took one sip of and then gagged because whoever made the punch was probably already wasted. Robin was dancing with Vickie, which made you smile. She told you all about how she had the biggest crush on her in highschool and when they both ended up at the same college she took it as a sign and finally made a move.

You glanced around the room and rolled your eyes at what you saw. You really thought by your third year of college the whole “clique” thing would be behind you. But no, for whatever reason the people here still wanted to abide by the conformity of the highschool food chain. You weren’t popular in highschool and you aren’t now, you made friends with Robin your freshman year when you were assigned each other as roommates but you honestly don’t have many other friends.

It’s not like people straight up bullied you like in highschool but the atmosphere was very much the same with the “popular” crowd. They all thought they were better than everyone else. You let your eyes wander to the cluster of people all dressed in the black, white, and green Chicago state colors and scoffed. At the center of it all was the bane of your existence, Steve Harrington.

He thinks the world revolves around him just because everyone in this stupid school kisses his ass. The teachers, all the students, even ROBIN is friends with him. She worked with him the summer before they left for college and she INSISTS that he isn’t actually as big of an asshole as he seems.

Steve Harrington had it all. Perfect car, perfect friends, perfect grades, he was the star of the Chicago state basketball team, and he had the perfect girl. Steve and Veronica had been together since freshman year. They met when he was leaving basketball practice and she was starting cheer practice and the rest was history. Yes Steve Harrington had it all, the perfect American life for the perfect American boy but apparently that wasn’t enough. He needed you too.

It started off when you had been partnered for a project in your English class and you spent some time together working on it. It was all going way more smoothly than you anticipated, you guys were getting along surprisingly well aside from you not being able to hold in your eye rolls and passive aggressive remarks towards him when he said something meat headed. But he would just laugh it off. On the last day of the project things changed drastically. One second you were finalizing your notes and the next thing you knew Steve’s lips were crashing into yours. You were so confused at first, frozen in place.

Then after a second you pushed him off “What the fuck are you doing Steve?? Is this some kind of joke to you? I think I’ve made it pretty fucking clear that I’m only toleranting you for this grade so I don’t understand where your wires got crossed thinking you could just kiss me?” He stared at you wide eyed before catching himself and scoffing “what? Don’t act like you didn’t want it, I could see how you were looking at me.” he gave you a smug look. “This is exactly why I didn’t want it, you ever thought not every single person wants to worship the ground you walk on? Has no one ever rejected you in your life? Get over yourself Harrington, I’ll see you tomorrow for the presentation” you grabbed your notes and swiftly exited the library after that.

That was two months ago, and since then Steve couldn’t let it go. You weren’t wrong, no one had ever rejected him and you continued to over and over again every time he would try and talk to you or approach you in any way and it was doing things to him. It kind of felt amazing, you couldn’t lie. The golden boy chasing after you like a little lost puppy. Especially since you were very much his opposite. You weren’t anywhere near rich, your car was an old piece of shit, and you definitely weren’t preppy in any sense of the word. So yeah, Steve Harrington pining after the quiet goth girl was kind of giving you an ego boost.

You watched him shotgun a beer while everyone around him cheered him on, tossing the can on the ground when he was done. He must’ve felt you looking at him because his eyes locked with yours and he smirked. As you were rolling your eyes Veronica’s arms shot around his neck and she started sloppily making out with him right there in front of everyone. It was honestly pretty gross to watch, you felt like you could hear their tongues and lips smacking from across the room, it made you want to gag.

Just as you were turning to head outside for a smoke break you felt a hand on your arm. When you looked up your breath hitched, because god damn this man was beautiful. It was like he was crafted with Peter Steele from Type O Negative in mind when they made him. “Hey, I like your shirt” he smiled sweetly at you. Suddenly you couldn’t remember your own name let alone what shirt you were wearing so you looked down and saw your Deftones baby tee before you looked back up at him and smiled “oh, thank you. I like yours too!” You pointed to his Korn shirt “their self titled album will always be one of my favorites of all time” he sent you another sweet smile “hell yeah, me too. I’m Dylan.” He held his hand out for you to shake and you took his much larger hand in yours and shook it for maybe a second too long before telling him your name.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl” you suddenly felt a little shy, it’s been a while since anyone (besides Steve, unfortunately) had really given you the time of day and this beautiful goth rock god just started chatting you up so you were a little nervous “do you smoke?” He pulled a joint out from behind his ear, offering it to you. “Yeah, totally, I’m down.” You tried your best to sound nonchalant but you were screaming inside. You decided right then that if this man wanted to take you home? You were fucking going.

You guys passed the joint back and forth and chatted for a bit, he was really cool, you had a lot in common and you enjoyed talking to him. When the joint was almost gone he held it up to you and raised his eyebrows “shotgun??” You bit your lip and nodded. He took the last large pull off the joint before cupping your cheek in his hand and leaning forward to let the smoke into your mouth. You inhaled and let a giggle out on the exhale, his face was still so close to yours, he smelled really good, and the weed was giving you confidence so you grabbed him by his shirt collar and brought his lips back to yours. His hands went to your hips as he kissed back passionately, pushing you up against the wall and deepening the kiss.

You guys had just started really making out, his knee pushed in between your legs under your skirt, his hand groping your chest over the shirt and your fingers tangled in his hair, not even caring that you’re in the middle of a packed party. Then he was suddenly ripped off of you. “What the!?” You opened your eyes in confusion and were met with Steve, shoving Dylan away from you “can we talk??” You scoffed “are you fucking serious right now Steve? I’m obviously busy, so you can get lost now. Dylan? Let’s go.” You started to walk past him but he grabbed your wrist “I want to talk to you. Alone. Please?” His demor changed by the end of the sentence and you saw a softness in his eyes you’d only ever seen a few times when you worked together on your project “Dude. She literally said she was busy, why don’t you just back off?” Dylan came over and stood next to you again glaring at Steve.

“Okay?? And I said I want to talk to her so you can get fucking lost before I make you” Steve got in Dylan’s face and basically growled at him before he shoved him against the wall and grabbed your arm, dragging you through the party and into one of the empty rooms and shutting the door behind you. You ripped your arm out of his grasp “What the fuck do you want Harrington!? You are being a serious cock block!! Did you SEE him?? I could slap you right now!”

“I didn’t like it. Seeing him kissing you like that when I want to be the one kissing you like that! I honestly couldn’t fucking stand it!!” He ran his hands through his hair and dragged them down his face in frustration.

“Okay Steve, I don’t know what your sudden fucking obsession with me is. If you’re just trying to prove a point to yourself that you can have any girl or if this is some kind of bet you have going with your stupid fucking friends but it has GOT to stop!! This is TOO FAR!! You’re keeping me from getting dicked down now and for what? Just let it go, you better hope he’s still out there or I’m going to track you back down and murder you!!” you go to walk past him and leave the room but he grabs your hand, making you turn to face him.

When you look at him you see that same look you saw a few minutes ago, the normally smug look on his face replaced with something softer. “Wait, please? Please just hear me out and then I’ll never bother you again.” You ripped your hand from his grasp and rolled your eyes. “Oh my god. Okay, you have two minutes, that’s it.”

He sighed deeply “Okay. I’m sorry, I know I’ve been bugging you a little-“

“PFT!! A little?” You rolled your eyes again, you honestly think if you have to talk to him much longer they’re going to get stuck in the back of your head.

“Oh my god. Can you just let me talk without interrupting me for two seconds?”

“Okay, yeah, sorry. Continue”

“Anyways… I know I’ve been bothering you a lot since we finished our project… and it’s not just because you rejected me, yeah that didn’t help, it just made me want you more but I wanted you before that. When we were working on our project together I just.. I started to fall for you. You were just so real compared to everyone around me. You made me feel like a person, you didn’t treat me like ‘king Steve’ or just do things how you thought I’d want you to. You told me like it is, and that was so refreshing to me.” He let out the deep breath he felt had been holding since you were still working together and waited for you to respond.

But you didn’t right away, you just stared at him with wide eyes stunned at his confession. “Please… say something, anything.” He gave you that pleading puppy dog look again.

“I… Steve you don’t mean that. You have everything. You’re popular, rich, you’re the star of the basketball team, you probably have some fancy office job lined up with your dad for after you graduate, and you have Veronica. I definitely don’t fit into that equation in the slightest.” You looked at him confused, searching for any kind of explanation that would make this make sense.

“Okay? Yeah I have all those things but I don’t WANT them. Most of those things are what my parents want for me, what my DAD wants. Basketball is fine, I’m good at it so it’s cool I guess, but did I really want to spend all these years just doing that? Not necessarily. And yeah if I work for my dad’s company I’ll be financially stable for the rest of my life but is that what I want to spend my life doing? No, it’s not. And Veronica? We may seem perfect to you but we aren’t. We fight all the fucking time and she’s honestly only with me because of who I am, because I’m king Steve. She doesn’t love ME, she loves the basketball star, she loves daddy’s money, she loves the extravagant wedding, white picket fence, and 2.5 children that we don’t know how to love because no one ever showed us so we just fill that void by showering them with material things. I had that life growing up, and I hated it. But you? You’re different. You’re free. You don’t care what anyone thinks and if you do, you don’t let it change who you are. You’re true to yourself, you don’t treat me like I’m some kind of god, you treat me like a person. THAT'S why I want you.” He took a step closer to you and grabbed your hands, ducking down so you’re forced to look him in the eyes “also you’re so beautiful, like so beautiful I feel like I can’t even breathe when I look at you.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any kind of falsehood in his words but you didn’t find any. Instead he was looking at you adoring, hopeful. “Steve, I…” you didn’t really know what to say, you had never really entertained the idea that he might actually like you. You didn’t want to even have an ounce of hope in that aspect, because of course you thought Steve was hot. You also couldn’t deny that you did sort of like the side of him you saw during your project, and you liked what you saw now. Maybe you liked HIM and you didn’t even realize it. Maybe you did see the real Steve and maybe you liked that person. Before you could truly think about it you put your arms around his neck and pulled his lips to yours.

You had never had a kiss like this one, Steve’s lips were so soft, and he brought his hands to your face and cradled it like you were something precious. You got lost in the kiss for a moment but soon pulled away from him entirely, bringing your hand to your mouth and staring at him wide eyed “we shouldn’t… we shouldn’t have done that. This is a bad idea. I have to go find Robin.” You turned to leave and once again you were stopped by his hand in yours. “I honestly think this is the only good idea I’ve ever had actually” is all he said before putting his hands around your waist and pulling you into another kiss. Rationally you knew you should pull away, but your heart and body had other ideas.

Suddenly you absolutely needed him to touch you, anywhere and everywhere. You wrapped your arms around his neck and licked into his mouth, deepening the kiss. You went on standing there making out until you were both pulling away breathless “Fuck. You are so amazing.” He pushed some of your hair that fell in your face over your shoulder and left a soft kiss on your jaw. You tried to hold in the little whimper that escaped, but you couldn’t and just hoped Steve didn’t hear it. But he did, and he looked into your eyes again and gave you a mischievous smile before ducking his head to place more little kisses along your jaw.

You let out more little breathy whines and it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. You grabbed his face, pulling it from your neck so he would look at you “I think… since you DID totally ruin what I had going with that guy out there, you kind of owe me now” you smirked at him and bit your lip.

“Yeah? You want me to make it up to you baby? Bet I can make you feel better than he ever could.” He ran his hands down your shoulders and around your back, sliding them down until he had two handfuls of your ass, your skirt riding up. “Yeah? I bet I fuck way better than Veronica. What’s she into? Missionary and reluctant blow jobs? Girls like that never like giving head” you smirked at him, not even feeling bad for shit talking his girlfriend. She didn’t deserve him anyways, Steve was yours now, you weren’t giving him back after this.

You were more spot on then Steve liked to admit but he can’t deny hearing you say those things was doing something for him. “Yeah? You like doing it then? You wanna get on your knees for me, pretty girl? Is that what you’re saying?” That’s exactly what you were saying, so instead of responding you dropped to your knees and looked up at him through your lashes while you reached for the button on his jeans, pausing before actually unbuttoning them “I’m going to give you the best blow job and fuck of your life, but only on ONE CONDITION”

“Okay, anything, whatever you want honey, it’s yours.” The nickname sent chills down your spine, you wanted to hear him call you every pet name under the sun. “You’re gonna go out there, and you’re gonna fucking DUMP Veronica, and then when you come back to me, I’m going to blow your mind Steve Harrington.” You stood up from the ground and booped his nose “Can you do that? Or were you bluffing when you said ‘anything?”

He meant it. He would quite literally do anything for you, not only in this moment but just in general. “Okay, I’ll do it.” Was all he said before he walked out the bedroom door, closing it behind him. You stood there stunned for a moment, mouth hanging open, staring at the closed door. You couldn’t believe that actually worked, Steve Harrington was about to throw away his “picture perfect” life for YOU of all people. If he even wanted to be seen with you. If he even did it, if he even came back.. His friends would never approve... God, his PARENTS would never approve of you. Before you could start to fully spiral you heard yelling coming from the other room.

“YOU CANNOT BE FUCKING SERIOUS!!!!?? THIS IS A JOKE RIGHT!!???” Veronica. You walked closer to the door to try and get a better listen but all you could hear after that were jumbled voices. So you decided fuck it, and walked out of the room into the crowded living area. Except people weren’t partying like they were before, pretty much everyone was silent, gawking at the couple they all thought were perfect. When you pushed through some of the bodies and were able to see them your breath caught in your throat. Veronica looked fucking pissed, she had her hands balled into fists and she stomped her foot on the ground several times like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“What the fuck are you talking about THERES SOMEONE ELSE!? Are you serious right now? Who is she? Some other bitch on the cheer team? Swim team?” She scoffs and then makes a gagging noise “oh god, is she in the DRAMA club? Or some nerdy girl you tricked into doing your homework since you can’t do it for yourself?” That last comment had you seathing, giving you insight into how she probably talks to him all the time.

“God Veronica, can you be any more shallow? Not everything is about popularity or some fucking club. We aren’t in highschool anymore, grow up.” You looked over at Steve who honestly looked like he would rather be doing anything but having this conversation right now. “That’s rich, coming from you, KING STEVE!!! Since when do you not care about all those things? I thought that was our whole thing?” She let out a dry laugh “you think anyone else really wants to deal with you? I only dealt with you because of all the perks that came with having a life with you. You think I actually loved you? You think anyone will really love you and your pathetic, whiny, daddy issues bullshit??” Steve looked stunned, he knew she felt that way but hearing it coming out of her mouth hurt a little. He never really loved her but there was a point when he did at least actually like her.

You couldn’t take it, between what she said to him and the look on his face you snapped. You walked over there without even caring about the consequences and got directly in her face. “You’re. Wrong.” You snarled at her.

“Excuse me, what? And what the fuck does it matter to you, mistress of the dark??” She looked you up and down with disgust.

“It matters a whole lot to me actually, because I DO like Steve. I don’t give a fuck about his popularity, or basketball, or how much money he has. I don’t need any of those things because he’s so much more than that!” You thought back to when you worked on the project together, at the time you hadn’t really allowed yourself to notice how different Steve was with you but he was. He told dumb jokes, he smiled sweetly at you and fumbled over his words. When you would tell him like it was, or act annoyed by him he didn’t say anything, just took it. You guys would talk sometimes for an hour or more after you had already finished working, and In that moment you realized that he let you see parts of him he probably didn’t show to anyone, you were just too dumb to see it. “He’s funny, like the stupid kind of dad funny that’s kind of embarrassing but down right endearing at its core. He’s sweet, caring, and listens to me when I talk. He’s not stupid, he’s incredibly smart. You just never took the time to see him and you’re the biggest fucking idiot for it!!” You didn’t move, stayed directly in her face, staring into her eyes daring her to do something.

Her eyes widened and then slanted into a glare “HA!!! Oh my god!!! You’re dumping me for this freak!? You’re even more of a joke than I thought Harrington! Talk about a downgrade, you really think your parents would ever approve of HER? Your dad would cut you off as soon as he saw her, your mom would-“

“THAT'S ENOUGH!!! Just SHUT. UP. For once in your fucking life Veronica stop talking! Don’t talk to her like that, you don’t know anything about her. Or me for that matter. Stay the fuck away from us.” Steve grabbed your hand and started dragging you away towards the front door “come on baby, we are leaving” you let him drag you to the door but before you walked out you turned around and flipped Veronica off “I win, you lose! Dumb bitch!” You stuck her tongue out at her and started cracking up at her stunned face on the way out.

•

Steve took you back to his apartment, your immediate reaction was to feel uncomfortable because of course even his apartment was way nicer than yours. But before you could even really get a look around he was on you. Kissing you in a way that made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle on his carpet. You pulled away from him and smirked at him before dropping down on your knees in front of him and he felt himself starting to get hard instantly. “I believe I promised you the best blow job of your life, did I not?”

He reached down and caressed your cheek “Yeah you did pretty girl, but honestly you don’t have to, we can just watch a movie or cuddle or something. I wanna do this right with you. I don’t want you to think that’s all I want, ya know?”

“Hey Steve?” You smiled up at him sweetly “yeah sweetie?” You reached for the button on his jeans and popped it open before pulling his zipper down, placing a gentle kiss on the small sliver of skin exposed where his shirt rode up “Stop talking. I want to, I like doing it. If I’m being honest I wanna suck your cock so so bad Stevie” he groaned at that “fuck, yeah, okay baby. Whatever you want.” You smiled at him triumphantly before grabbing his pants and boxers and pulling them down in one swift motion.

His cock sprang out and you forgot how to talk for a moment because holy shit it was the biggest and most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen. “Wow…” was all you could manage, spitting on your hand and wrapping your hand around his girth, giving him a few strokes before leaning up to kitten lick the salty precum from his tip. “Oh shiiit that feels so good” you gave him a few more licks before abruptly taking as much of him as you could at once. He involuntarily jerked forward sending his cock further down your throat, causing you to gag before he pulled back “oh shit, I’m so sorry”

“Don’t be, I like it” you said before you took him back down your throat as far as you could, causing yourself to gag again before pulling back and repeating the action causing spit to drip down your chin and all over Steve’s cock. Steve was a mess, he was making whining sounds he’s never heard from himself and he seriously needed you to stop soon or he was going to bust before he even got to fuck you.

You pulled off and looked up at him “I want you to fuck my face, daddy” that was it, he was obsessed with you. “Oh god, I want that too baby girl but I will seriously cum if I do that right now and I really really want to fuck you.” He pulled his pants up before pulling you up on your feet grabbing your hand and walking towards the bedroom. He closed the door behind him and turned to place a gentle kiss on your lips when he pulled back you pulled your shirt over your head and his eyes nearly popped out when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra “holy shit honey… these are the best fucking tits I’ve ever seen” he grabbed them in his large hands, squeezing them before he leaned down to take an already hardened nipple in his mouth. “Mmm daddy, your mouth feels so good.” He groaned at the sound of you calling him daddy again. He’s always wanted a girl to call him that, it’s just no one he’s been with has been into it and you calling him that in your own accord was making him crazy.

“I know where it’ll feel even better.” He said before pushing you back until you were laying on his mattress with your legs hanging off. You propped yourself up on your hands so you could look at him. “God, you are so fucking gorgeous I’m not sure how you’re real. Sitting all pretty on my bed with those beautiful tits out. I can’t wait to see the rest of you” He pulled his shirt over his head and you didn’t even have time to properly ogle him before he got down on his knees in front of the bed and ran his hands up your legs until he was at the bottom of your skirt. He looked to you for permission, and you nodded excitedly. That was all he needed before he was pushing the front of your skirt up to reveal your red lace thong that had a very obvious wet patch.

“Look at these pretty little panties… too bad they have to go.” He looped his fingers in the band and ripped them off, throwing them over his shoulder. “This pussys is waaaay prettier than those panties anyways, god damn.” He started kissing your calves and the inside of your knees, leaving soft kisses and little bites as he made his way up to your thighs. He bit into the meat of your thigh before soothing it with his tongue and repeating the action on the other side. He left little kisses and licks down your inner thighs until he reached the spot you wanted him most. He kissed the top of your mound and then held his mouth over your clit for a minute letting his breath hit you while he looked you in the eyes “I’m going to fucking devour you”

He licked a stripe all the way up your entrance and to your clit, circling it a few times before sucking on it. Your hands reached down and tangled in his hair and your back arched immediately. “Jesus Christ Steve, your mouth feels so fucking good.” You whined.

He unlatched from your clit to look up at you “Steve? There’s no Steve here right now, only daddy.” You outright moaned at that and he smirked, circling a finger around your entrance before pushing it inside you. “Fuuuck daddy, that feels so fucking good. Put your mouth back on me, please?” You looked down at him with big round eyes and he felt like he was actually going to cum in his pants this time. His tongue started circling and sucking on your sensitive clit, he slid a second finger inside you and that was it for you.

You came so hard, probably the hardest you’ve ever cum in your life. Your grip on his hair tightened and you rocked your hips against his face “oh f-fuckkkk fuck, holy shit.” You pushed his face away “s-sensitive, come here” you reached your arms out for him and he put his arms on either side of your head, looking down at you adoringly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss, groaning when you tasted yourself on his tongue. “Please please fuck me now, I want you so bad” you couldn’t even believe you thought you hated him just a few hours ago and now you were laying under him begging for his cock. He stood up and took his still unbuttoned pants off, now standing completely naked before you.

“God damn.. you are so fucking HOT holy shiiiiit, get over here and fuck me right now.” You pulled your skirt off and scooted up to the head of his bed and spread your legs wide open “how do you want me, daddy?” You giggled a little, feeling high on him. “Fuck, baby, will you ride me?” He walked over to the side of the bed and looked at your naked form, biting his lip. You grabbed his wrists pulling him down on the bed, pushing him on his back and climbing on top of him. You ground down on his dick, sliding your pussy easily up and down his length with your wetness. “Condom?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “I’m on the pill, I wanna feel you, I want you to fill me up.” His eyes rolled in the back of his head “oh goddd, fuck. Yeah? You want me to fuck you full of my cum?” You didn’t even answer, just raised yourself up so you could line his cock up with your entrance and began to sink down on it.

“Holy fuuuck baby, that feels so good.” You were still holding his cock, sliding the head in and out of you slowly adding more of him inside you with each thrust until he was fully inside you and you could feel his hair at the base rubbing against your clit. You just sat there for a second, adjusting to his size. “Oh shit, you are so fucking tight oh my god.” You move back and forth, just the slightest rock of your hips. “Fuck daddy, you’re so big. I feel so full.” You whimpered. You raised up until you reached the head of his cock and then slammed back down out of nowhere and he let out a moan that you wanted to record and use as your fucking alarm clock. That egged you on, you started riding him hard and fast after that, sitting up fully with your hands on his chest to stabilize you. His hands were on your hips, head thrown back, he felt like all he could do was moan. He was pretty sure you were sucking his soul out of his dick and he had never felt this good in his entire life.

“Jesus Christ, you are such a good girl. You look so fucking beautiful riding my cock.” He moved his hands to your ass and slammed up into you, quite literally fucking the shit out of you. He moved his thumb up to your lips “Suck.” You took it in your mouth and swirled your tongue around it a few times before he pulled it out with a ‘pop!’ And brought it to your clit. Rubbing tight slow circles on the bud. “F-fuck, I’m g-gonna I’m gonna cum” he started fucking you faster, the circles on your clit got quicker “cum for me, cum on my cock like a good girl” your orgasm hit you hard, falling forward on Steve’s chest, letting out loud moans and pulling on his hair. That combined with the feeling of you clenching around him had Steve cumming right after you, filling you up just as promised. “Holy shit, holy fuck, I’m fucking cumming! God baby you feel so fucking good!”

You both just laid there for a moment, catching your breath and coming back into your bodies. You placed a soft kiss on his chest and sat up to look at him. “Wow Stevie. That was amazing, seriously.” He gave you a huge smile “Yeah it was. Holy shit. I’m obsessed with you.” You sent him a shy smile and tried to hide your face on your shoulder but he put his hand on your chin and made you look at him “Hey” he said your name softly “I mean it, I really fucking like you. I really do think you’re beautiful, you literally ruined me for any other woman ever. I’ve never met anyone like you. I’d really like to take you on a real date, like you deserve. If you’ll let me.” He gave you the most bashful adorable smile ever but you couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped you “Steve. You’re literally still inside me right now and you think I don’t want to go on a date with you?” He shrugged and chuckled, “I just wanted to make sure, I didn’t want to assume anything, ya know?”

You rolled off of him to lay next to him, resting your chin on his chest. “Of course I want to go on a date with you silly. It took me a minute to realize it, but I think I’m kind of obsessed with you too, Steve Harrington.” You tilted your head up to kiss him, soft and sweet, different from all the other kisses. “I just hope I didn’t ruin everything for you. I feel like you threw everything away for me.” You sighed and looked down at his chest, running your fingers through the hair there. He said your name more sternly than you were expecting “Look at me.” You looked up into his eyes and suddenly felt extremely shy under his intense gaze. “You didn’t ruin anything, you made everything better, you saved me from a life I was miserable in. I’ve never been more happy than I am at this moment. I don’t give a fuck what my so called “friends” or my parents think anymore. I did it for you, of course, but also for the first time in my life I did something for myself too. I’m not sure what exactly my life is going to look like now, but I know if you’re in it, it’s going to be beautiful.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes at that, no one had ever said anything like the things Steve had said to you tonight. He kept talking so much about how you see him that you didn’t even realize how much he saw you too. “I think so too Stevie.” He saw you and you saw him, and the rest you would figure out together.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x goth reader #opposites attract

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chvnnie · 2 years

Note

Heyy

Could you do a Lee know smut in their car and he has a daddy kink and nipple kink

It’s A Scream, Baby!

lee minho x reader

word count: 1.9k

genre: smut - MINORS DNI

warnings: non idol au, soft pleasure dom!minho, sub!reader, daddy kink, fingering, dirty talk, nipple play, reader has pierced nipples, car sex, public sex, minho refers to reader as his “play thing” once, squirting. if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: the movie is boring, you’re needy, minho is hot. how did you expect this night to turn out?

a/n: anon, you sent this the morning after i had a dream involving nipple play w a skz member so this was literally perfect. bless u for giving me an excuse to write this. also, i’m making a permanent taglist masterlist (does that make sense? idk) bc im losing track of who wants on it. IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN BEING ADDED TO MY PERMANENT TAGLIST, PLEASE COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK. thnx :))) also this fic contains several references to my personal favorite movie, even if reader hates it lmao.

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents lee minho as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal

The killer finally caught up to the main character, music building in dreadful anticipation of what was to come. Would he get her? Would she narrowly escape? Would the person you could have sworn died earlier in the movie come in at the last minute, sacrificing themselves for her?

If you were being honest, you didn’t really care. You had zoned out about thirty minutes in, the plot totally lost on you. How did they get here, anyway? Last you checked, her boyfriend was still detainted under suspicion of being the murderer. Was he out now?

Oh, who gives a shit?

Minho’s low chuckled filled the car, following a terrible joke from the comic relief.

Your boyfriend apparently gave a shit.

It wasn’t a surprise, given the fact that he was the one who suggested going to the drive-in. He was so excited about it, showing you the ad that popped up on his feed. The first three movies (apparently there were five? The thought of this movie having four sequels was making you lose brain cells) back to back for a whopping five dollars per car. It was a steal, and given the way his face lit up as he pitched the idea to you, you would be heartless to say no.

So that’s how you ended up in the backseat of the car, air conditioning on full blast and snuggled up under a blanket with Minho, watching as the boyfriend held a voice changer up to his mouth to reveal himself as the killer.

Huh. So he was guilty.

You looked over at your boyfriend, who was smiling like a kid in a candy shop. The movie reflected off of his glasses, almost hiding his pretty eyes that were sparkling with excitement. He wasn’t joking when he said this was his favorite movie; his reactions were almost enough to make you want to focus on the movie.

Key word: almost.

Instead you stared at him, eyes slowly taking in every inch of him. He sat with his legs spread, grey cotton shorts riding up his thighs from trying to get comfortable in the cramped backseat. The sweatshirt and hat he wore match, both stitched with the name of your shared university. The way he was wearing his hat, however, is what made you practically salivate, unable to look away. You loved when he wore it backwards, hair pushed out of the way so you could see every angle of his face. You could stare at him all day, constantly in awe of how god-like your boyfriend was.

He was much more interesting than some bad 90s horror movie.

You shifted your weight to rest your head on Minho’s shoulder, staring up at him with the slightest hint of a pout. His attention shifted from the movie to you, a small smile creeping on his face when his eyes met yours.

“Hi.” You said softly, gripping onto his right arm as you snuggled closer to him.

“Hi.” He responded, leaning in to peck the center of your forehead. “Having a good time?”

You shrug, fingers tracing a line up and down the arm you were holding. “Yeah. Kinda bored, though.”

He hummed, right hand moving under the blanket to wedge itself in between your thighs, staying close to your knees. “I’m sorry. Do you want to leave after this movie?”

“No, we can stay for the other two. I just…” the sentence trailed off as you found yourself growing shy. God, why? It’s not like you haven’t made a move on Minho before - if anything, you were the one constantly making moves. Constantly batting your eyelashes and pleading for your boyfriend to fuck you. He always gave in; no matter the time or place, if you wanted him, Minho would make sure you had him. He could never let his baby get too needy, after all.

“Just what?” Minho asked, and you could tell he was resisting the urge to smirk. He knew exactly what you wanted, and he wanted you to say it.

You opened your mouth with the intention of speaking your wants, but the way he was staring at you with eyes that were starting to grow wider with lust made your jaw snap shut. Timidly, you buried your head in his neck, too embarrassed to look at him.

With a click of his tongue, his other hand found the back of your neck and gently pulled your head up. “You gotta tell me, baby.” He whispered, the hand between your thighs prying them apart and slowly moving higher up. “I can’t help you unless you tell me.”

He paused right at the hem of your shorts, fingers teasing the edge of the athletic material as he waited patiently for you to speak. You knew him well enough to know that he would sit here all night, playing with your shorts until you explicitly told him to touch you. He never did anything without confirmation that you wanted it, and fuck, did you want it tonight. Taking a deep breath to try to calm the rapid pace at which your heart was racing, you finally spoke, lips trembling as you did so.

“I just need you to make me feel good.”

The smile he gave you had your heart doing backflips, butterflies fluttering out of your stomach and skin chilling. A smile filled with adoration, but also with just as much need for you as you had for him.

“See? That wasn’t hard.” His hand slid up over your shorts until he reached the waistline. “You know I’ll always take care of my baby.” He pinched the clenched material, pulling it back just a bit to make it snap. “Up.”

Your shorts were removed, tossed to the front seat of the car. Once your legs were spread open enough for his liking, Minho kissed you, his tongue wasting no time finding yours. You melted into the kiss, body immediately relaxing at the familiar taste. Minho used the hand on your neck to tilt your head, effectively deepening the kiss as his other hand began to rub your pussy over your panties. You moaned, hips lifting slightly to feel his strokes better.

“God, baby, you’re so wet.” He mumbled between kisses, spit covered lips glimmering in the light of the movie. “Have you been this wet the whole time?”

“Yes. All night, Min-“

At the sound of his nickname, Minho rolled his eyes, the fingers that were teasing you moving up to your clit and lightly pinching it over your panties. He held onto it, rubbing the bud between his thumb and forefinger.

“That’s not my name, is it, baby?” He said with a raised voice to be sure you heard him over your moans.

You shook your head, a string of no’s falling from your lips. The way he was pinching you was so gentle, but firm enough to shoot waves of pain up your body, making the pleasure that much more intense and limiting your capability to think.

“What is it? Come on, say it. I really don’t feel like punishing you tonight-“

“Daddy.” You cried out, head tossing back and hitting the back window of the car. “You’re Daddy. Please, please Daddy, just touch me.”

Before you could even finish your sentence, his hand was down your panties, finally touching you without a barrier. It felt so good, the way he played with your folds, fingers knowing exactly where to put more pressure and where to back off.

“There we go. There’s Daddy’s good girl.” His voice was low, and if you weren’t already covered in goosebumps, you were sure just the sound of him practically growling would have your entire body chilled. “Always the most perfect play thing for me, aren’t you?”

While his filthy words flooded your senses, his other hand was pushing your oversized shirt up until your chest was revealed to him. If asked, Minho would say he didn’t have a “favorite” part of your body. He thought you were an absolute masterpiece - every curve, scar, freckle, and stretch mark never failing to make his mouth water. But he always found himself drawn to your chest and the perfect way your breasts fit in his hands and his mouth. When you got them pierced and he couldn’t touch them for months, Minho thought he was going to lose his mind - and in all fairness, he absolutely did and made up for every second he lost after they were healed.

Minho shifted his body so that he was in front of you, uncomfortably kneeling on the floor of the car. “Hold.” He commanded, and your hands immediately flew to your shirt, holding it up by your collarbones. Now face to face with your chest, Minho wetted his lips before latching onto you without warning. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he decided that this was the perfect moment to shove two fingers covered in your slick inside of you.

“F-fuck.” You whined, back arching with pleasure. “Fuck, daddy, j-just like that. Oh my god-“

You looked down at him to see your boyfriend staring at you wickedly, smiling against your chest as his free hand began to play with your other nipple. He toyed with the piercing with both his tongue and fingers, the sensation making your jaw drop, nothing but loud whines leaving your mouth.

He let go of your breast, fingers thrusting rapidly in and out of you as he looked up at you. “Squeezing my fingers so tight baby. You like that? Like it when daddy plays with your pretty tits?”

All you could do was nod, words failing to form at the moment. You lifted your hips, pushing yourself further down on his fingers to silently beg for more.

Minho got the hint.

“Oh? Gonna fuck yourself on daddy’s fingers, baby?” He asked, a large smile on his face. “Gonna make yourself come while I play with you some more?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, taking your other breast in his mouth and biting down on the nipple. His fingers paused, letting you control the tempo as you pathetically tried to bounce on them. It was enough, though; the feeling of Minho alternating his teeth and tongue, and hand teasing the other nipple helping to tighten the rope in your lower belly.

Pussy clenching around his fingers, you watched his eyes roll back in pleasure, the groan he released making your chest jiggle. He looked delicious, eyes shut in satisfaction as he focused on helping you get off.

Fuck, Minho was incredible.

You were about to attempt to ask for permission when you felt his cold thumb press against your clit, only moving left to right once before the dam broke. You screamed, cumming hard around his fingers. It gushed out in a spray, drenching the seat of the car and Minho’s sweatshirt. Only when he was sure you were finished did he let go of your tit, removing his fingers from your fluttering cunt.

Minho climbed back onto the seat next to you, head thrown back as he panted like he was the one who just squirted all over the backseat of the car. You rolled your head over to look at him, the same wide smile still painted his face.

“Fuck.” He said, turning to meet your gaze. “That was one hell of a scream, baby.”

©: chvnnie 2022

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee minho smut #lee know smut #minho smut #stray kids fics #skz fics #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #chvnnie requests

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nanomooselet · 4 months

Text

Episode One: No Man's Land

He's so fluffy. <3

Man, the fact that Vash ran out to greet all those people by name and he's not even a minute into it when the ships begin to explode is really everything about him you need to know. The first time we see his face and it's after he's been thrown off his feet as cascading destruction is unleashed around him. The face that crashed a thousand ships? Vash of Troy? My poor sweet boy.

Young children can sometimes have trouble with cause and effect, assuming events relate more to their own actions than they really do and blaming themselves. So Vash asking Rem if the sleepers will be okay... There's simply no time to explain he isn't responsible. All the dominos are being set up in Vash's little head. Nai is the one to knock them down.

And then Rem and Nai wearing identical expressions. It's not surprising that even after her death she's his most enduring ideological opponent. Every time I watch it's just more obvious how enormous the effect she had on Nai was, and how he hates it. (By the way, I keep hearing that Rem told Nai to protect Vash - but as far as I can tell that's a conclusion Nai came to on his own without Rem's intervention? Rem said she'd protect the twins herself and didn't anticipate the crash. Did I miss something?)

I've talked extensively about this part, but to recap: feelings. And look, Rem's got purple eyes! Apart from the colour motif (purple = red + blue, so it represents the unity of humanity and the Plants that was her dream) she would have had to get gene-modded for them, which is a fun detail. Rem, of all people, was a little bit vain. I dunno, I find that endearing.

"Real people don't look like that./Real people aren't such caricatures." More of Orange's composition choices making me foam at the mouth.

We don't know how long Vash has been dangling there, but I doubt it was less time than it would take for a human to die of deprivation or exposure. I really don't think Vash actually needs to eat or drink, nor does he hate being a Plant - it's himself that he hates, as a person. If anything Knives is the one in denial that he's just as human? I don't know.

Anyway personally I like to think that the reporters really are caught up in all this nonsense by sheer happenstance. No one's pulling their strings; they're out to write a meaningless gossip piece and Meryl is taking it too seriously. It's worth noting that focused pursuit of the "dangerous fugitive" (read: Vash) is apparently pretty recent, not to mention unusual.

...I'm guessing my girl doesn't play a lot of poker. Meryl's faces. <3

I've said it before, but the show doesn't cheat. Roberto doesn't pull his conclusions out of his ass; he tallies up incongruities and puts them together into insights. He's obviously experienced, but I think of Sam Vimes, a recovering alcoholic, complaining there aren't meetings you can attend for being a suspicious bastard. Roberto drinks because, too often, his suspicions have been proven right. (I suspect Roberto also suffers from a state of being naturally knurd i.e. he's short of sobriety in the opposite direction to being drunk, and has to down a few before he's on par with the rest of us. But I also think his tolerance is good and he plays up drunken mannerisms when it suits him.)

Huh, the man looks good in a tie. I wonder how recent that photo is.

Anyway, Roberto sees Vash's big honkin' gun, but Vash insists he's "not a fighter". He notes aloud that Vash doesn't look like a Plant engineer and Vash dodges explaining. Then he sees this face Vash is making, and it's scared. He's sweating. This is before the MPs barge in, so it's something about the Plant he's afraid of.

Right, thinks Roberto, we'll tuck that nugget of info away, along with how that piece in his holster sure ain't no damn novelty backscratcher. And when an opportunity arises to test the insight, Roberto takes it.

Uh, never mind what I said about cheating. (Although this is an animation cheat, not a narrative one.) I love that they didn't even pretend like he was maybe hiding it somewhere. Also hilarious, though more darkly so, is the complaint that this turn is "bad writing" because the captain was professional, as if he didn't beat the shit out of a suspect in the process of surrendering, stick his gun in random faces, and agree to a duel with deadly weapons against a bounty head he's meant to bring in alive because some random drunk asshole made slightly mean comments.

("Are you are a man, or a yellow-bellied baby who needs his mommy?" Background info implies the captain has reason to be sensitive about the accusation he's hiding behind his parents. I wonder if the dub writers knew?)

Meanwhile Vash is unwilling to fight until his opponent does something absolutely batshit that imperils everyone around him. He's also bizarrely calm about a cluster of missiles being launched and heading right for him. Roberto's right that he isn't afraid of the MPs.

"A fight should be a show!/We've got an audience, we might as well give them a show!" <- Orange says you're goddamn right about that, crazy captain dude. And it's exactly what they did.

Dweeb. <3 He probably left his ammo behind in his bag on purpose, but didn't expect the captain to do something so recklessly violent and suddenly realised he hasn't had time to restock any of his aces in the hole. Nevertheless, I suspect he's still playing up how hard he's freaking out here. The helpless and pathetic act is very much an act; it's only when he's faced with Knives that it isn't.

It's so sweet that Rosa knows him well enough to have faith he'd pull it off with a single bullet. She put a lot of trust in him. I like to think she kept a stock on hand. She also meant it when she said "a friend of Vash's is a friend of mine," so Meryl makes the throw. And she makes it good. Which all helps what's coming to be more devastating, naturally.

LOL at how clearly this is an animation/particle flex, but it's celebratory too, like fireworks on opening night. Over a decade since Vash did his thing on our screens. Here he is returning with a bang!

Wow, I somehow completely and utterly failed to realise Meryl and Roberto's conversation with Vash about Knives takes place the next day until this time around. Of course they would have had to wait until the captain was conscious enough to ride out of town. All the details I pick up and "the sun is setting" or maybe "unconscious people can't ride birds" missed me entirely. What I'm saying is that I'm very smart.

Hi Zazie!

I don't expect an answer to this question, but I have to wonder. Did Zazie wait to report to Knives until now to be absolutely certain it was Vash after seeing him draw that exact gun and do something impossible? Or does Zazie have some awareness of the fourth wall, knew when they'd cut away to show Knives, and acted so as to achieve a "speak of the devil" effect when Vash finally mentioned his full name?

Regardless, I really like the dub, but it's a shame they couldn't keep the ambiguity of whether Knives is talking about Vash or the red Plant when he says he'll rescue [someone] from the "parasites".

I do like the impression he's talking to the Plant husks (even if it's probably really Zazie he's talking to). My man's always open to constructive criticism when his interlocuter isn't capable of making any.

@tristampparty

#trigun stampede #trigun meta #tristampparty #meta: tristampparty episodes #mother is the name of god #“my name's roberto and i'm a really suspicious bastard.”#i wish roberto could have met knives #i truly think he'd verbally annihilate all knives's self-justifying delusions #he'd get instantly chummed but it might be worth it

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thoriffix · 2 years

Text

you're telling me he gets THREE boyfriends???

words: 4.6k

summary: cole's dad assumes the ninja are dating, which - as far as cole is concerned - is ridiculous. of course, it sends him on a bit of a feelings spiral, and maybe he does in fact have a few crushes he has to deal with.

some polyninja goofs! set vaguely in s2 idk when exactly but uhh theyre living on the bounty and lloyd isnt aged up yet thats all thats important. also im trying out posting full fics on here for the first time! this is also on my ao3 ill link it in the rbs

enjoy!

"So, how are the boys?"

"Ugh, Dad." Cole rolls his eyes. Every time he visits, his dad ends up trying to get him to talk about the other ninja, and he doesn't understand it. "They're fine, same as always. Busy training, probably."

"Shame they never come to visit," Lou comments, sipping his tea. "I really would love to get to know them better."

Cole squints dubiously at his father, who seems to be trying to appear nonchalant. "...Why?"

"Well, why wouldn't I? If my son suddenly came home with one boyfriend I'd like to get to know him, let alone three!"

What.

Cole stares at Lou. He puts his tea cup down and furrows his brow as he tries to process. Dad thinks- okay. Dad thinks the ninja are his… boyfriends? The ninja. All of them. Boyfriends?

"We're not dating, dad," he says, after a solid few seconds of confused silence. Lou tilts his head.

"You're not?" he asks. "None of you?"

"No, none of us!"

Why would he even think that? Do they act like boyfriends? Dad didn't even know he was gay until a few weeks ago. Why would he just assume Cole’s friends were dating him? Or each other, for that matter?

"Well," says Lou, frowning. "I must have misread. Sorry, son."

"That's okay, dad," says Cole. His head is spinning, though. Misread what? Normal, friendly, platonic interactions between four close buddies? How could you possibly misread that? "What, uh- why would you… what made you think that?"

Lou hums, taking another sip of his tea as he thinks about it. Cole finds himself leaning forward in anticipation, and immediately feels weird about it. Why is he excited to know? That's weird. Stop it, Cole.

"You were the happiest I've ever seen you," Lou finally says, and Cole feels his stomach flip. "When you were fighting, yes, but even more so when you were just with them. The way you looked at them, I… well, it reminded me of myself when I first fell in love."

Cole really, truly, has no idea how to feel about that. He stares down into his lap. This isn't exactly a conversation he'd love to be having with the father he's fairly estranged from, anyway. Maybe once they were closer he'd be willing to talk about his nonexistent love life, but apparently it's happening now, because apparently he looks at the other ninja like he's in love with them, which is- well, it's a lot to unpack.

"Why so interested?" Lou asks teasingly, after Cole hasn't said anything for a few minutes. Cole’s stomach flips again.

"I'm not!" he defends, though he can't really deny that he is. When he thinks about it his heart keeps doing these little flutters. Maybe he just has a heart condition. That's probably more likely. A rare heart condition that only shows symptoms when he thinks about the idea of dating his fellow ninja. The idea of boyfriends. Having boyfriends. Dating them. Maybe even kissing them! He-

Wow, that heart condition sure is a doozy.

"Well, I'm not going to sit around and tell you how it looks," says Lou. "I think you might need to work out how you actually feel."

"Unhelpful, dad," Cole grumbles. His father laughs, and picks his tea back up.

"If you say you're not dating, I believe you. But maybe I wasn't misreading your expressions?" He raises his eyebrows and sips his tea meaningfully. Cole can feel his face going hot.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters. "I'm changing the subject now. How's the weather been lately?"

–

Later, on the Bounty, Cole can’t stop thinking about it. What the fuck did his dad mean about him and the other ninja? He spends most of the day after he gets home stewing about it, brooding in various spots aboard the ship and generally overthinking. It doesn't make him feel any better in the slightest.

Eventually the others notice, because of course they do, because they share a space of a couple hundred square feet at best. Kai corners him on the deck first.

“Hey, man,” he says, slapping Cole on the back and joining him in peering over the edge of the boat. “You doin’ okay?”

Kai’s picked up a habit of checking in on the others the moment they seem even a little off, and he seems scarily attuned to when they’re not feeling great. It makes Cole smile. He’s a good guy. Much more sensitive and caring than his cocky outward self would have you believe, and Cole’s lucky to get to see it. Lucky to get to see his face, too, cause he’s sure easy on the eyes. And-

Cole’s cheeks go hot. Oh, boy.

“All good!” he replies, maybe a little too squeakily. Kai narrows his eyes suspiciously. His stunning, deep brown eyes. Cole scolds himself mentally. Where is this coming from?

“You went to visit your dad today, right?” asks Kai, and Cole nods. “That go okay?”

“Been worse. We, uh, talked a lot."

“Hey, that’s a start.” Kai smiles lopsidedly and reaches out, covering Cole’s hand with his. His palm is warm and comforting. Cole smiles back. “Wanna come play some games with the guys? We got some time.”

“We should probably be training,” Cole says, raising one eyebrow, but it’s more of a tease than an actual protest. He’d much rather play. If nothing else, it's fun to watch Jay rage when he's losing.

“Eh, what Wu doesn’t know won’t hurt him. C’mon.”

Cole allows himself to be led the relatively short distance from the deck into their room, where Jay and Zane are already battling it out.

“Ah, hello, Cole,” says Zane, pausing the game and turning to smile up at Cole with that sweet, awkward smile he always has. “Are you alright?”

“I’m peachy, snowflake,” Cole replies, grinning as he sits down between them. Zane tilts his head in apparent confusion. “I’m good. No worries.”

“Good,” says Zane. Kai sits down on Zane’s other side and picks up a spare controller, passing Cole the fourth. Jay nudges him.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” he asks, smirking, and Cole just smirks back.

“I’d be careful who you threaten, motormouth.”

“Ooh, fighting talk!” exclaims Kai. “C’mon, I wanna get into it already!”

Zane sets up a fresh game. Cole sits there, idly playing with the buttons as he waits, and smiles. He’s got the best friends.

–

It doesn’t entirely clear his mind, but digitally brawling with the other ninja certainly makes him feel a bit better, right up until Wu finds them and scolds them for shirking their duties. He finds himself in the kitchen with Zane, washing dishes as Zane starts to get dinner ready.

“Do not laugh, please,” Zane says shyly. Cole blinks at him, and then suddenly realises that Zane is bashfully tying his pink apron around his waist. He feels guilty immediately.

“I won’t,” he promises. “Sorry for laughing at you for it before.”

“That’s okay. I understand it is a little silly. It’s pink, after all.”

“No, it- it still sucked for us to laugh. You don’t look silly. You, uh- pink suits you.”

It’s nowhere near a lie. Zane looks great in pink. He looks great in anything, honestly. Most of all, he looks great wearing the pleased smile that crosses his face at that. It’s infectious - Cole finds himself smiling too, distracted and scrubbing the same spot on a bowl over and over. He snaps his attention back to the dishes. FSM, what is with him? His dad’s comments must have got in his head. He doesn’t remember ever noticing the others’ appearances this much before, nor feeling this fluttery when he thinks about them. But then again, didn’t he? Weren’t they always this handsome, now that he thinks about it? Maybe the butterflies are new, but they don’t feel out of place, exactly. When he casts his mind back, maybe he does remember feeling a little fluttery whenever Kai puts his hand on his, or Jay poorly trash-talks him, or Zane makes extra dumplings because he knows they’re Cole’s favourite. He stares into the soapy water, suddenly unsure of himself.

“Cole? Are you alright?” Zane asks, placing a cold hand on Cole’s arm and pulling him out of his thoughts. Cole nods.

“Yep,” he says, and it’s not a lie. He’s just… confused, is all. There’s no way his dad was right, right? Not about them dating, of course, but about his, uh… feelings. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? His dad, who he barely sees, picking up on Cole having a- well, multiple crushes before it even crossed Cole’s mind. “Sorry, Zane. Just thinkin’.”

“No need to apologise,” says Zane. “And, um. Thank you for saying pink suits me. I rather like it.”

He smiles, and then makes a beeline for the stove to start cooking. Cole watches him move perfectly around the kitchen, each movement graceful and well-oiled. The water's long gone cold by the time he actually resumes doing the dishes.

–

Dinner is perfect, as it always is when it's Zane's night to cook. Cole devours his own helping and then a fair bit of Jay's, when he isn't looking. Lloyd watches him sneak food off Jay's plate from across the table, wide-eyed, and then utterly fails to do the same to Nya, who notices immediately.

After the meal, Jay and Cole end up on the deck together, trying to make the most of the time before bed. The sun's gone down, leaving them chugging along through dusky indigo skies, a few stars twinkling above them.

"Don't think I didn't notice you stealing my food all of dinner, mister," Jay says, and Cole grins, embarrassed. Busted.

"Well, why didn't you stop me then?"

Jay shrugs. "I figured it would mean that you owe me! Besides, I know you love Zane’s cooking."

Cole knows for a fact that Jay also loves Zane's cooking. They all do. He doesn't comment on that, though, just raises an eyebrow instead. "Oh yeah?"

"Yep!"

He doesn't elaborate. Cole chooses to assume he'll be doing Jay's chores tomorrow. He rolls his eyes, and leans over the side of the boat. The moon is so bright tonight, illuminating everything in a pale glow. He chances a glance at Jay out of the corner of his eye, and sure enough; beautiful. Damnit. Why couldn't he have less handsome friends? And kind, too, and funny. And caring. And-

Jay catches him looking and scrunches up his nose, sticking his tongue out. Cole feels his heart skip a beat.

God damnit.

He has three whole stupid crushes, doesn't he?

And that means his stupid dad was right, too.

Cole stares down at the distant desert below them, slowly passing by. This is stupid. Feelings are stupid. They're his friends - his only friends, not that he really likes to admit it. Well- he still has Wu and Nya and Lloyd, but still. They're his team, for another thing. How's he going to fight effectively alongside them when all of a sudden he gets butterflies looking in their eyes for too long?

Jay pokes him. "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Just- stuff," says Cole vaguely.

"Ooh, mystery man, huh? Bet I can guess what you're thinking about."

"Jay, I-"

"Cake? Video games? The fact that it's your turn to mop the deck this week? Dragons?"

Cole should've known that vagueness would get him nowhere with Jay. Annoying, adorable little shit. Instead he just sighs and nods. "Yeah, uh, all of the above."

"Ha! You're so predictable, Cole."

I guess I am, Cole thinks, leaning on his hand and watching Jay's smug face turn to look back out at the clouds. He's only thinking a little bit about kissing him, which he's going to count as a win. He continues to think about it until they go to bed for the night, but it’s only a little bit, so. He’s doing well.

–

The next evening, Cole finally finds himself alone on the deck of the Bounty, having spent all day in the company of at least one of the other ninja, all of whom are suddenly the most attractive guys in Ninjago and he might be going a little bit crazy. Getting some time alone is rare under normal circumstances, but while dealing with this newest revelation it's nothing short of a godsend.

He begins pacing up and down the deck, debating just what he's supposed to do now. Right. So maybe, just maybe, he has three new crushes. Or, more like, he has three old crushes that he's only just noticed and is kind of kicking himself about in retrospect.

He has a few options, Cole supposes.

One, he tells them all how he feels. The idea of this one makes his stomach tie itself into twelve different knots and then throw itself off the side of the ship, so he's not really sure it's ideal. But then again, if it went well… he doesn't dare think about it. The odds of it going the way he'd like it to are so tiny that he doesn't even bother properly entertaining the idea. This option isn't really an option.

Two, he picks one of them to confess to and buries the other two crushes down deep and doesn't think about them ever. This one is more plausible, even if the idea of choosing between them seems impossible. Any time he thinks he's settled on one of them, one of the others will float into his mind and his heart will do the flutter again and he'll be back at square one. Besides, he doesn't even know if any of them would like him back. This option isn't ideal, but it's there.

Three, he buries all of them down deep and pretends they don't exist. This one, as far as Cole can see, has no downsides. Nothing has to change, no one has to get rejected or ruin any friendships or teamwork, and he can go on having fun with his best friends and never think about kissing them at all. Ever. It's the perfect plan.

Of course, perfect plans often have a little snag or two, which Cole discovers as soon as he marches proudly back into their living quarters and is met with three stupidly handsome and loveable faces.

For the next few days, Cole engages in what can only be described as the most miserable game of tag he’s ever played, in which he’s constantly running from his own gay thoughts attempting to catch him. Every time he sees the other ninja, his heart utterly betrays him by trying to thump itself out of his chest, and his brain betrays him even more by refusing to stop imagining them kissing him, or holding his hand, or even cuddling. Luckily, it doesn’t interfere with their ninja work too much, because Cole is a professional, and their well-oiled team is second nature at this point. At home, though? Well, those two days of performing arts school he attended are really putting the work in.

It doesn’t help that recently the ninja have become more affectionate than ever, constantly checking in on him and asking if he wants to hang out, and there’s only so many times he can turn them down without coming off rude or suspicious. He’s been hanging out with little Lloyd a lot instead. To be fair to the kid, he’s a lot of fun to hang out with, actually. Plus, as a bonus, the ninja don’t seem to be quite as affectionate when Lloyd, Nya or Wu are around, which Cole is putting down to them not wanting to exclude anyone from their little best friend group.

He’s hanging out by himself in the sleeping quarters, reading a book that Zane’s been trying to get him to read and eating a sandwich, when Nya pops her head round the door and says; “Hey!”

He glances over, brushes some crumbs off his chest, and sits up, putting the book down. “Hey.”

“What’re you doing in here? Everyone's up on the deck, training.”

She steps into the room and walks over to his bunk, sitting down next to him. Cole shrugs.

“I was tired?” he tries, and she laughs.

“Nice try. Wu will never let you get away with that one. Ninja never quit!” she says, doing a scarily accurate impression of Master Wu. Cole snorts, and then looks at his hands. It’s not that he doesn’t want to train. It’s more that Kai had bumped into him earlier and for some ungodly reason had reached out to brush a lock of Cole’s hair behind his ear, and Cole’s now worried that if he looks Kai in the eyes he might actually explode.

He’s not gonna say that. He just sort of shrugs instead.

Nya pokes his cheek. “What’s going on with you?” she asks, raising one eyebrow. Cole looks at her.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “You’re acting weird lately. Around the guys mostly. You feeling okay?”

Damn. Cole cringes slightly. He’s probably being very obvious, huh? He opens his mouth, fully intending to make up some excuse, even if he has no idea what would sound plausible, but what actually comes out is; “I think I’m in love with all three of the other guys because my dad thought we were all dating and it made me realise I really like them all and I have no idea what to do about it and I was trying to ignore it but that’s really hard and I don’t wanna ruin the team or our friendships or anything and it sucks.”

Nya stares at him.

“And also I’m gay,” he adds, belatedly realising he's never actually officially come out. He’s pretty sure they all know, but still. Worth adding.

She takes a second, looking almost confused, and then laughs. “Okay,” she says. “Lots of information there, Cole.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, smiling a bit himself. Her smile is infectious. She sighs, and then pats him on the shoulder.

“First of all, congrats on the coming out. I mean, I did already know, so. Y’know. Still congrats!”

“Thank you…?”

"Secondly, that's really cute. You should tell them!"

Cole stares at her. "Nya. You gotta be kidding me."

"I'm not! What's the worst that could happen?" She’s grinning at him, with a sparkle in her eye like she knows something he doesn’t, but he just frowns.

"Uh, I don't know. Everything? Breaking up the team for no good reason? Losing my only friends?"

"Pssh, that's nothing." She sounds cheery, but Cole's not smiling, so she sighs and pats his shoulder. "Right. Sorry. Unhelpful. But look, I really do think you should tell them. They're worried about you, y'know."

Cole blinks. "They are?"

"Yeah, of course. If nothing else, telling them will get you closure, right? Your friendship is stronger than you think, and they care about you, so even if they don't like like you back, is that really the end of the world?"

Huh. Cole looks down at his hands. "I guess not," he admits, frowning. It doesn't feel like it should be that easy. Admittedly, the idea of rejection does make him want to crawl into a cupboard forever, but Nya has a point. She grins again, toothily.

"I'm always right," she says, smug. Cole rolls his eyes and leans into her. She wraps an arm around him. "Oh, and I'm rooting for you, champ. I guarantee it’ll go better than you think."

“Why are you so sure?” Cole grumbles, and she opens her mouth, and then closes it again, shrugging.

“Just am!” she says, slightly sing-song, and he groans. Why is everybody he knows so smug?

–

"Hey," says Cole, and only Zane looks up. Kai and Jay are too busy intently focusing on the game they're playing, which, honestly? That's fine. Cole’s feeling pretty nervous, so the less eyes on him right now the better. "I need to talk to you guys."

"What's up, dude?" asks Kai, narrowing his eyes at the TV, and then groaning. "Oh, damnit, Jay!"

"Ha! Get good, loser!"

"Are you guys done?" Cole asks, feeling endeared and irritated at the same time. God, why'd it have to be these idiots? They pause the game, finally, and turn around to face him, nodding. "Okay."

"Are you alright, Cole?" asks Zane, looking worried.

“Yeah, I just- I have to tell you all something.”

“We’re all ears, bro,” says Kai, grinning up at him, and Cole’s heart flutters embarrassingly. Oh god. This is gonna suck. He takes a deep breath.

"I like you guys," says Cole. "Like, like like you. All of you."

There's silence. Cole resists the urge to squeeze his eyes shut so he can't see them all looking at him. This is terrible. His heart is pounding.

"...I thought we were all already dating?" Zane says, sounding genuinely bewildered.

“Yeah, I kinda- are we not?” asks Jay, putting down his game controller. Kai nods in agreement, frowning at Cole.

What.

Cole stares at them all. He’s desperately trying to see in their eyes if this is some weird prank, or joke, but they all look utterly baffled at the idea that they’re not all dating him. They all think they’re dating him? And each other? All of them?

This might be the weirdest turn of events in Cole’s life, and he once had an old man on top of a mountain ask him to become a ninja to help save Ninjago from evil.

“Wh- we are?” he says desperately, holding out his hands in confusion. The others make eye contact with each other and then look back at him, nodding. Cole’s head is spinning. “For how long?”

Jay shrugs. “I dunno, a couple of weeks?”

A couple of weeks? He’s saying that Cole could have been kissing all three of them for weeks? He must look shaken, because Kai holds out a hand comfortingly.

“How did I not know?” he asks. They look at each other again.

“I do not know,” says Zane.

“We just sort of assumed you wanted to take things slow?” explains Kai. “And we didn’t wanna push you or anything, y’know?”

Cole really does not know what to do now. He goes and sits on the floor between them all, and then suddenly has a realisation. “My dad was right,” he groans, dropping his head into his hands in shame. This is awful. Not only was his stupid dad right about his stupid feelings, he was right about them dating, apparently. And apparently, everybody was aware of this except for Cole!

Wait. “Wait,” he says. “Does Nya think we’re dating too?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m gonna tell my sister, dude,” says Kai, and Cole groans again. Great. No wonder she’d seemed so sure of herself when he asked for her advice. He feels a hand pat his arm slightly awkwardly.

“Are you alright?” asks Zane, sounding concerned, and Cole nods into his hands. It’s not quite settled in yet, given that this was the exact opposite of the outcome he was expecting and all. It might be starting to, though, given the way his stomach is starting to fizz with excitement.

“So,” he says, lifting his head out of his hands. They’re all looking at him with eyes that are far too soft and gentle and beautiful. “You’re telling me you all want to date me?”

“Well, I thought we all were for several weeks, so I’d say yes,” says Jay, and Cole partially considers dropping his head back into his hands. He puts them down on his lap instead.

“What now?” he asks. He’s pretty sure he’s just mightily embarrassed himself, so he’s half expecting one of them to go well, actually, we don’t really like you that much anymore, Cole, sorry! Instead, Kai starts grinning and adjusts himself so he’s on one knee.

“Well,” he says, making eye contact with each of them. “Would all three of you do me the honour of being my boyfriends? Officially, this time.”

Cole might be dying. His heart rate would certainly suggest that he is. Beside him, Zane giggles, and Jay groans and rolls his eyes.

“You’re so annoying,” he complains, and then leans forward and kisses Kai’s cheek.

“I would be honoured,” Zane says, seriously, and leans in to kiss Kai’s other cheek. Kai raises his eyebrows at Cole, the cocky grin melting into something softer as he looks at him.

“If you’d rather talk about it first-” he begins to say, before Cole gets his courage up and all but jumps forward to plant a kiss directly on Kai’s lips. They’re soft, and warm, and he can feel Kai smiling against his lips. His heart hammers furiously against the inside of his ribs as he pulls back and grins awkwardly.

“Yeah,” he says, slightly embarrassed by the way Kai is smiling at him. Jay makes a noise.

“My turn!” he says, and pulls Cole into a kiss as well, their noses squishing uncomfortably against each other and teeth clacking slightly. He pulls away, slightly dazed, and Jay all but sparkles at him with the joy in his grin. Zane clears his throat politely.

“May I?” he asks, and Cole nods, his head spinning too much to answer properly. Zane leans in and kisses him, much gentler than Jay, and then pulls back after a moment and smiles. Cole’s tempted to pinch himself, just to make sure this isn’t some big self-indulgent dream. His heart is calming down, convinced that all is well.

“Glad we got that sorted!” chirps Jay, picking his game controller back up. “Cole, do you wanna join the game next round?”

Cole has to laugh. He feels a bit ridiculous. Knowing that he could’ve been happily with them all for weeks rather than tearing himself up inside trying to escape his crushes stings a bit, but at least he got this outcome instead of something worse. Honestly, this is the best possible outcome he could have hoped for.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, and grabs the spare controller.

–

Cole’s dad opens the door not ten seconds after he rings the bell, which suggests he’d been waiting by the door for Cole to show up, which is either quite sweet or a bit weird, he can’t decide.

“Cole!” he says, opening it, and then his eyes widen. “Oh!”

Cole grins, gesturing to the other three ninja, who have promised to be on their best behaviour and are dressed in their nicest outfits. “Surprise?” he says, and they beam at his dad. Lou looks utterly thrilled, clapping his hands together and grinning.

“Oh, this is wonderful! Cole never brings friends home,” he says, and Cole’s face goes a bit hot. He looks around at the other ninja, who smile at him encouragingly.

“It’s actually, uh. Boyfriends, dad.”

Lou’s face shifts through surprise, to joy, to smug understanding. He smiles at Cole, who rolls his eyes.

“Boyfriends, eh?” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Who knew?”

“Lay off it, dad,” says Cole. “Can we come in or not?”

Lou steps back to let them all pass through, waving them in with pleasantries and greetings, and when Cole passes him he pats him on the shoulder and smiles, his eyes gentle and proud. Cole smiles back, embarrassed. He’s still a little bit mad that his dad figured things out before he did, but honestly? He can’t be that upset, what with the way it all worked out.

Okay, maybe a little. But only because his dad is being so smug about it. Otherwise, he’s completely fine. After all, he’s dating the three best people in Ninjago, so what’s he got to be mad about?

Cole grins as he walks into the living room to find Kai and Jay mid-bicker already, with Zane attempting to act as mediator. They stop when they see him, all three sets of eyes lighting up, and his grin grows wider. Yeah. He’s doing pretty good.

#grays fic stuff #ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago fic #i dont rly know how to post fic on tumblr aha #hope this is good #polyninja #cole brookstone #lou brookstone #kai smith #kai jiang #jay walker #zane julien #nya smith #nya jiang #fics

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mystic-shadows42 · 2 years

Text

Overdue

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! reader

Word Count: 971

Your mind was wandering, riddled with questions.

Is leaving the right choice? Was Clark aware yet? What was he doing? Would he give you the space you needed? Will things get better?

The car began to shake as an impending sound began reverberating loudly as it drew closer. Then all at once, the sound stopped and you had to pump the breaks once you saw Clark land just a few yards ahead.

Your heart began to race whether in anticipation or the fact he actually looked for you.

He began to walk towards the car with a serious look. You were surprised by just how quickly he had realized you were gone. As of late, things had been a bit strained and tense for the both of you.

Clark was always gone and you were always left all alone.

“You need space? Leaving for a week?” He re-iterated from the letter you left. “Why are you trying to leave?”

“You really have to ask?”

It appalled you just how oblivious he was to your relationship. He was sharp when it came to everything else but he always turned a blind eye whenever he came home.

“Get out of the car.” You narrowed your brows at him, not liking the way he was speaking to you. The engine was still running and now that there was a sudden silence between you both it was apparent that was the only sound he was focusing on. Clark closed his eyes for a few seconds taking a deep breath before opening his eyes back up. “Can you please get out of the car?”

You tapped your fingers against the steering wheel knowing there was no other way out of this. He did deserve an explanation after just having up and left. You were just so upset that you simply acted.

After much deliberation, you took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car.

He took pause for a moment recalling your last question.

“Is this about Lois?” He asked cocking his head while narrowing his brows. The Lois in question was the beautiful red-headed reporter that knew of his identity. They always kept close in contact especially since Clark started working there.

They were just friends but the fact that they had a connection and she wasn’t in a relationship at the moment, made you defensive.

“It’s not just that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Clark,” you sighed. “You’re never here in the moment. You’re always gone. For crying out loud we live together and I’m lucky enough if I even see you once a week.”

He shook his head, disagreeing.

“I didn’t think we were having any problems. It’s just that the people need me.”

You exhaled loudly. It simply wasn’t fair. You loved Clark with all your heart and all that he does, but the problem was, he wasn’t treating this like a relationship.

“I need you too.” You felt like complete shit for wanting more of his attention knowing that he was indeed saving lives. You just wished he can see it from your point of view. “You do so much but you also need to set time for yourself. You need to live your life too.”

He took a step closer leaving only an inch of space between you both. He brushed back a piece of your stray hair blowing from the wind then placed his palm against your cheek.

“I love you. I know I don’t say it enough or show it the way you want me to and for that, I’m sorry. You’re my girlfriend and I never want you to feel that you have to leave in order to figure things out. I’m here even when it seems that I’m not.”

You leaned into his touch already feeling better than you have in a while. This conversation was long overdue, but Clark’s hectic schedule and postponing this talk brought out the worst in you.

“You have to make the effort Clark. I’m not saying to cease saving the world but to set aside some time for us.”

You leaned your head against his chest just wanting to feel him. It had been so long since you both embraced each other. He leaned forward looking down at you.

“Anything. All I need is for you to talk to me.”

“I’m glad it at least got your attention,” you cracked a smile trying to break the ice.

He cracked a small smile before grasping your hands in his. “You scared me when I came home to an empty house. I thought the worst when I read your letter. It made me realize how you must’ve felt,” he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek. “I think you should still take time to yourself but just know that I’ll be checking in.”

You squeezed his hands feeling this is what’s best. Some time apart in order for things to be better. “Maybe I was overreacting by leaving out of the blue when I should’ve just talked to you.”

Clark shook his head. “You were upset and I hadn’t come home. Just promise that wherever you go to be safe then when you’re finally ready to come home I’ll make a better effort to be the boyfriend you deserve.”

You looked into his blue eyes and nodded. That sounded good.

He pecked your lips and then kissed you properly letting the kiss linger. You parted your lips and smiled when he playfully pulled on the bottom of your lip.

This was a little blip in your relationship but hopefully the last, now working towards a better working one. You knew your love for Clark will never die out just as he can never really let you go. At least you know that everything is lining up for the better.

#Clark Kent #Superman #Kal-El #Clark Kent x reader #Superman x reader #Kal-El x reader #Clark Kent imagine #Superman Imagine #Kal-El imagine #Clark Kent drabble #Superman drabble #Kal-El drabble #Man of Steel

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 2 years

Text

Whumptober Day 4: Dead on your feet

No. 4 DEAD ON YOUR FEET

Hidden Injury | Waking Up Disoriented | Can’t Pass Out

Warnings: stab/slash wound, knife, knives, blood, blood loss, makeshift bandages, self done first aid, medical inaccuracies

Word count: 1947

In your defence, you didn’t realise you had been stabbed until the paramedics were gone and you were processing the crime scene. And sure, you probably should have told someone and said ‘hey, you know, I think the unsub has slashed me a bit and by that I mean hey look here’s a massive slash wound from his knife’, but you didn’t. You simply had an internal panic before covering the problem with your FBI windbreaker - which were waterproof, so theoretically also blood proof? Your plan also wasn’t the best (wait until you get to the police station and patch yourself up, last the jet journey and drive yourself to the closest hospital when your shift ended) but it was the most coherent plan you’d be able to come up with.

“You alright, (Y/N)?” Morgan grinned, “You’re quieter than usual,”

“Just thinking about how hard it must be for you to be second best around me,” You teased trying your best not to show your panic to the rest of the team, Derek gave a laugh, clapping you on the back, missing your wince.

You rode with Hotch, Rossi, and JJ, hoping that Hotch’s driving would make you feel less like you were going to throw up than Morgan’s driving. That wasn’t the case (nothing against Hotch, it was simply the odds were not in his favour). It wasn’t long until you were at the police station and you all piled out of the car and into the station.

You didn’t get a chance to stop at the police station and properly try and patch yourself up, as it turns out. Spencer had decided to stay behind and pack up during the arrest and normally you would appreciate that but you could have throttled the younger agent tonight. You didn’t say anything though, just gave him a smile and a nod as you slowly started to pack your things. You knew Hotch and Rossi had noticed something was wrong, but they hadn’t confronted you about it, so you were taking it as a win. It wasn’t hurting as much, not yet anyway. But you knew it was going to soon. Part of you thought the anticipation of the pain might actually be the worse part. Although, you doubted that you’d think that once the pain started kicking in full. You felt it, sure, but it was more a light dull ache than anything else.

“The caffeine addiction kicking in there?” Derek joked, nodding at your shaking hands.

You forced a laugh and a nod, “Always,” There was a small pause, “No, all that adrenaline’s after effects, apparently it decided to hit me hard today,”

“Huh,” Derek said, both of you continuing to make sure your things were packed.

“The funny thing about adrenaline is that not only does it increase blood levels to the brain and muscles, but can also decrease blood flow to some organs too,” Spencer chimed.

You nodded, “I think I remember my psychology teacher telling me that once,”

Hotch straightened up, turning to the whole team, “Are we all ready to go?”

Everyone, but you nodded, “I need to pee,” You said, Hotch fought back a smile but nodded. It had become almost a ritual, you would go to the toilet before getting on the jet everytime without a doubt.

This time, however, it wasn’t so much needing to pee as it was ‘figure out a way to stop the hole - well, gaping wound - in my stomach from bleeding so damn much'. You walk at your usual pace, despite wanting to run and crawl at the same time.

You looked around the men's bathroom when you got there, checking for officers as well as supplies. There wasn't much to work with, in fact, there was no first aid kit, nothing. All you had to go on was toilet paper and disposable hand towels. You decide on the hand towels, grabbing a handful, placing against your wound (having lifted your shirt) You couldn’t see anything to hold it in place and you very much doubted wrapping toilet paper around your stomach would secure the make-shift gauze. With a sigh, you settled with your belt, quickly undoing the buckle, you placed it over the wound and ‘gauze’ with a hiss, you did the buckle back up before dropping your shirt to cover everything - thankful that your shirt was rather baggy today. You place your windbreaker back on. If anyone asks, you can say that you’re cold. You were starting to feel a bit on the colder side, actually.

This did not look good. You had a six hour flight. You should probably tell Hotch. The thought of that was immediately knocked out of your head when you imagined his disapproving glare. Nope. You did not need that on top of a stab-slash wound. With a sigh (and then a wince) you headed out of the bathroom.

“There he is!” Morgan teased.

“We thought you might have fallen down the toilet,” Emily laughed. You gave a laugh, doing your best to hide your pain.

“You okay? You’re looking a bit pale,” You give JJ a smile.

“Yeah, I think I’m just getting a migraine,” The lie slips off your tongue easily and you feel bad, until you see the worry leave her eyes.

“I’ve got pain killers?”

“That would be great, thank you,” You smiled, it was really starting to hurt now.

After you downed two painkillers and had a glass of water, you swung by the hotel to grab your go bags (already packed). You groaned, turning to Morgan, "Morgan, be a dear and grab my bag for me? Please?" Morgan looked at you, observing the way you covered your eyes with your hand, your pale complexion, and the way you were hunched in on yourself.

He nodded, "Yeah, of course," Must have been a bad migraine.

Hotch was always the last one to board the jet. Often, the rest of the team would get on whilst he was saying goodbye to the local police before he boarded - letting them know that they would help whenever and wherever they could with any upcoming cases. This didn’t change.

Hotch walked next to you as you all made your way to the jet, “Are you alright?” You nodded, giving him a strained smile. This was all a massive mistake, but you were too stubborn to say anything now. You made your grave.

“I’m fine,” The rest of the team were now boarded. You gave a quiet huff, shifting the strap of your go-bag before beginning your slow ascent up the stairs (not wanting to push your body). You nearly made it. You were so close to the top of the stairs when the dizziness hit. Hotch right behind you, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” You gave a sluggish nod. You were quite cold, now that you thought about it. The dizziness hadn’t let up and you felt incredibly nauseous. But still you said nothing, determined to push on. You went up two more steps before the world blurred into a variety of colours and Hotch was the only thing holding you up.

“I need some help here!” Hotch yelled, shifting his position to prevent you both from falling down the stairs. The team poked their heads out of the door, seeing you limp in Hotch’s arms caused them all to kick into action. “Morgan, help me get him on the jet, Emily call 911, Reid get the first aid kit, we need to figure out what’s wrong.” Everyone nodded and scrambled to follow Hotch’s orders. They placed you on the sofa, Reid kneeling beside you with the first aid kit next to him. He scanned your frame, deciphering where the injury could be when a flash of blood caught his eye. There was a long and thin hole in your shirt. He lifted your shirt up gently, eyes widening when they landed on the large laceration that ran across your side, from hip to ribs - as much tissue as possible held in place by a belt.

Reid heard Hotch sigh behind him and JJ and Emily gasp and turn away. Reid got to work, apparently the paramedics were going to be ten minutes so he needed to stem the bleeding as much as possible. He could try and stitch it up but that would increase the chance of infection - plus ten minutes wasn’t too bad. Reid nodded his thanks to Morgan when he handed him a wad of gauze to apply to the wound. Rummaging through the first aid kit, Spencer grabs the saline solution, pouring it onto the wound to keep it clean whilst they were waiting for the paramedics before Spencer placed the bandages on top and put pressure on the wound.

All eyes snapped to you when you gave a groan as Spencer put more pressure on the wound. “Spence?” You asked, voice thick with sleep. “What you doing? What happened?”

“You passed out from blood loss on the stairs,” Hotch said, “We’ll be talking about that when you’re feeling better. The paramedics should be here soon.”

“I passed out?” You asked, look made eye contact with Morgan - who in this situation managed a teasing smirk. “Oh god, I’m never going to live this down.”

“Mum and Dad are so going to ground you,” Morgan said, motioning to Rossi and then Hotch, who both rolled their eyes.

“In all seriousness,” Hotch said, cutting Derek off as he went to add another comment, “I will be grounding you."

You gave a chuckle, grimacing at the pain that flooded through your side. "Sorry," Hotch said, you shook your head.

"My fault," You admitted, Hotch rolled his eyes.

"Paramedics are three minutes out,"

"That's fine," You said, waving your hand dismissively.

"I'm not sure the blood flow is reducing," Spencer chimed, eyes flicking up to Hotch.

"You sure?" You asked, "Nah, it'll be alright. The writers can't kill off the best looking character. Derek would get too confident,"

Morgan gave a snort, rolling his eyes, "What are you on about?"

"I don't even know," You said with a wince.

Morgan turned to Reid, "Is delusional a symptom of blood loss?" Spencer gently shook his head.

Hotch gave Morgan a look and opened his mouth ready to lecture you both, when the paramedics jogged up the stairs to the jet.

You gave them a small wave, "Oh, hey," Morgan face palmed.

"Can we take a look?" The paramedic asked.

"At least take me to dinner first," You muttered, before giving them a nod. "Yeah, sure,"

"We're going to need to you take to hospital, we'll give you some painkillers to help with the pain, and you'll be taken to surgery,"

"How long is that gonna take?" If Hotch’s glare was anything to go by, that was not the right thing to say. "I mean, thank you."

JJ quickly told the paramedics you had taken some painkillers, they nodded, noting it down. Before they began their work. Soon enough you were in the back of an ambulance with Hotch, high on morphine.

"Morgan’s right," You said, turning to Hotch, patting his arm, "You really are the dad of the team."

"Rossi’s going to be so happy to find out that he's the mum of the team,"

"He does tend to mother hen," You acknowledged, Hotch huffed a laugh.

When the paramedics edged the gurney out of the ambulance, Rossi stood anxiously at the entrance. "Are you okay?" He turned to the paramedics, "Is he okay?"

You and Hotch glanced at each other, you giggling and Hotch trying his best to hold back a laugh.

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skijumpingf1 · 3 months

Text

A roller-coaster weekend (D.Prevc X D.Tande)

So last weekend after Domens win someone (sadly I don´t know who) pointed out that it is sad that Daniel wasn´t in Sapporo to witness Domen’s win. I kinda got inspired by that and started to write something. It was supposed to be a fun cute one shot about Domiel celebrating Domens win the long-distance way but apparently, I’m not good a writing fun stuff so it’s a tiny bit heavier than anticipated but well. The whole Alex situation is mentioned but I tried to keep it vague to not speculate too much. At first, I didn’t think I would post it, since it’s the first time I would share something that I wrote (It’s also the first time writing in English and the first time writing Domiel. So a lot of firsts). But I’m always happy when someone shares their work so here you go.

Wordcount: 4899

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Friday

“Why am I hearing about your revolution from gossip?”, is the first thing that leaves my mouth when my boyfriend finally picks up the phone. It was my third try of reaching him. To his defence it is currently 5.30 am in Norway. So honestly, he shouldn’t be answering the phone, but he does. It brings out a little smile on my face. “Good morning to you too, Domen.”, answers Daniel with his raspy morning voice. I miss hearing it in person. I miss waking up next to him and wake him up with a lazy kiss. Hopefully he will be in Oberstdorf next week. It has been too long since we saw each other. “It’s already afternoon here.” I could practically see his eye roll through the telephone.

The Slovenian cabin is empty here at the hill in Sapporo. My first teammates are on the way up the hill and everyone who jumps after me is still outside warming up. I probably should be out there too but the gossip on the hill was more important. At least today. So, I’m sitting on the slim bench and lean against the heater. Robert, my trainer, can’t be mad when he finds me here cause I’m doing a bit of stretching. At least a bit. But I really need to speak with Daniel about the things I heard. So, no good warm up for me today. This is more important. “I heard it from the Germans, Danny. So, what is going on with your team? Is it true?” Philipp Raimund and Andreas Wellinger were practically begging me to give them insides of the drama in team Norway. But I didn’t have an answer for them because my boyfriend forgot to tell me the big news. Or choose to not tell me. There is a sigh on the others side of the line. “To be honest, I don’t know what to think about it. I can’t even articulate what I’m felling right now.”, speaks Daniel after a short period of quiet. My hand glides through my hair. “It’s really true? You want to get rid of Alex?” “That’s sounds like we want to kill him. We just think our team would function better without him.” Something in his voice and the fact that he didn’t tell me about it, tells me there is more to this story.

Daniel and I, we are together since over four years. I know him. That’s why I keep asking. Sometimes he holds to himself. You would think that would be my part, but I tend to overshare. At least with him. “But you don’t agree?” There is a bit noise in the background. He is probably standing up to go around in circles in his little flat like always does. I can picture it in my head. Daniel running his hand through his beautiful blond hair, pacing around to get rid of the emotions that comes with phone calls like this. “You know I have experience with revolutions against trainers. Rember the ski flying world champions in Planica.” The Japanese sun is shining in the little cabin, and I am praying that the other guys will be out there a bit longer so that we can finish this conversation. I lean my head against the blank wall. “It’s not that I don’t agree. There are valid points why Alex isn’t the right trainer for us. But its complicated.” “He has been your trainer since when? Since you have been in world cup? Of course, it’s complicated.” Alex always seemed close with his jumpers. Daniel praised him so often. I don’t know what caused this fall out. Maybe just the bad results. Maybe something major that he can’t share with me. We are still on different teams, and it could be something regarding his teammates so I can understand why he isn’t telling me. I wish I could be there, or he could be here. Even through his voice I can hear that he needs a hug. Maybe I should call his mom up to go check on him. “He is such big part of my life. If he is really going to leave it feels like I´m losing a third parent.” “Oh Danny.”, was the only thing I could say. “Did you agree with Timi when he pulled that thing?” I exhale loudly. “Partly. But definitely not the way he did it. That was just cruel and bad for all of us. But its not really comparable. Alex has been in your life forever. Have you talked about it with the other guys? Or maybe with Anders or Kenneth?” Outside of the cabin I can start to hear voices. Probably my teammates who played volleyball. My gaze falls on my watch. I should get going soon or I will miss the first jump. “Not really. I agree with them for the most parts so what am I supposed to say?” “Your also part of the team. Your opinion matters as much as the opinion form the others. I´m sorry love, but I really have to get going. Maybe it would really help if you speak to Anders. He knows the team but can give you a bit of a neutral view.” In the middle of my sentence the door of the cabin opens, and my brother enters the room followed by Lovro and Timi. Peter is raising his eyebrow at me. An unspoken question why I am not ready. With my free hand I gesture towards the phone and hope the boys will stay quiet. “Good luck for quali, kjekken. I love you. “„I love you too.” The phone call ends, and I’m absolutely not satisfied with it. I hate that I can’t be there for him and hold him. I hate that there are currently what feels like million kilometres between us. “Yes Pero. I know that I’m late. I’m hurrying up now.”, I say before my older brother opens his mouth. Peter is still nervous when it comes to me being in World cup. As if I didn’t know the rules around here. Even though I have been a part of this circus since I was 16. While I change in my ski jumping suit the boys exchange a knowing look. “So, it’s true, what they tell about team Norway?” Timi was the brave one to ask the question they all had. “Apparently. But I don’t know much more than you do.” A last check through my bag than I went my way up the hill to do the thing I love most in the world.

Saturday

I press my lips together and look at the big screen. 122 meters. Not enough to really help me get a better position than somewhere around place 20. Sometimes this sport could be harsh. After yesterday and even the trial round I was quite hopeful for a good result, a great even if I dared to dream. Sadly, the wind had other ideas. So, I step out of the outrun with my big skies in my hands. The sun is already setting behind the mountains and it’s getting a bit dark. I don’t know if I should feel tired or not. After the US leg and now Japan my inner clock is not working at all. Always tired but not really tired enough to fully get a night full of sleep. My teammates greet me in the outrun, and someone takes my skier. “Tomorrow will be our day.”, says Timi and winks at me. “Let’s hope for good headwind.”, was my dry response. The worst thing now is that I have to wait around the exit gate because my brother was sixth after the first round. It’s not that I don’t want to be there for him but seeing everyone jump better than me still hurts after eight years in world cup. But if it didn’t bother me, I should probably retire. I slip out of my suit and change into my training clothes. As soon as I’m done, I grab my phone from my backpack. A message from Daniel was already waiting for me. Come on Domen, just because there is no headwind doesn’t mean you have to jump that shitty. A small smile builds itself on my face. Daniel always knows how to cheer me up. Well, I was kind off expecting it so … Jumper after jumper came down the hill until we reach the top 10. Lovro who is standing next to me is also on his phone. “Dude, the story in Norway is getting out of hand. Stöckel didn’t know anything about that shit. He was completely blindsided.” By the way he raises his eyebrow I know that he asked me a question with that statement. Sometimes I regretted telling people about our relationship. Especially when someone uses that connection to get information that are not supposed to be for them. Normally I´m glad we were no longer part of a big hide and seek game. Sneaking around is just fun at the beginning but at some point, it’s just annoying. The public still doesn’t know, and we are not planning on chancing that in the near future. But the other jumpers knew to an extent. We are not running around holding hands in the village, but we tend to stick together. So, the rumour spread, and we just went with flow. Our teammates were obviously a bit more informed. If not, we wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with each other as we did. But we try to keep it is much to ourselves as possible. “No comment?”, askes Zak. “No comment.” With that I step a few steps closer to the outrun. Peter is next jumper. I look up the hill and wait for the signal so that Pero can finally jump down that damn hill. “Gosh today your way grumpier then normal. It’s time for Daniel to return.” Timi is grinning towards me. “With that I agree.” The team for Oberstdorf wasn’t finalized but I doubt that Daniel would miss ski flying. Finally, Peters is letting loose and jumps. Right at the beginning I can see that that jump won’t do it and press my lips together ones more. “Well at least we can get going now.”

I more than thankful that Lovro, with who I’m rooming this weekend, left to play a round of cards with the other boys or maybe jumpers from a different nation. Honestly, I didn’t really paid attention to what he was telling me. As fast as I can, I fix my hair. Then I´m pressing the facetime button on my phone and Daniels face appears on my screen. “Hi.” I probably sound a bit breathless, but I don’t really care. Daniel still takes my breath away. Even after four years of being with him and close to a decade of knowing him. Even on my tiny screen. His blonde hair is a bit messy, the way I like it the most, and a bright smile was on his face. “Hi you. I missed seeing your face.” “I missed seeing yours more.”

I lay back on the bed and cuddle myself under the blanket. “Oh, that kind off face time call.”, smirks my boyfriend. A small giggle escapes my mouth. “I wish but I don’t know when Lovro is coming back.” Daniels face forms a grimace. “Then back to the good old talking. How was the comp? The jumps didn’t look too bad.” A deep sigh comes from me. I roll onto my side in the small hotel bed. This hotel room was more on the depressing side. Grey walls, no good art and the floor was carpet that definitely has seen its prime. “Normally a 19th place is alright, but I like the hill and I know that I can do better here so that’s why it’s a bit frustrating. But tomorrow …” “Tomorrow is headwind so I´m expecting more from you.” Daniel raises his eyebrows and looks me death in the eye. He can’t hold his composure for long and he burst out laughing. My favourite noise in the world. “I will try a podium just for you.” “You know that just wins turn me on.”, he winks at me. I nod sarcastically. “Then we should probably break up. I haven’t won in ages.” Daniels laugh increases and his hair falls in his face. What would I give to be able to push it back now. Seeing him so happy opens up my heart. “For me team wins count as well, so you are good.” I cuddle myself deeper in my bed and switch the hand that’s holding my phone to warm it a bit under the blanket.

Outside its pitch black dark and my eyes are slowly getting heavy. The small light next to me is doing barely enough to keep me in enough light for the facetime call. But we are not even at the point where I want this conversation going. That why keep my eyes open and push the sleep away. “How generous. Then I suppose we can stay together.” Daniel is sitting on his couch, the phone between his knees so he has the hands free to eat a bowl of cereal. He looks happy but I can see that something is bothering him. “Have you talked to someone about the Alex situation?” I am probably silly to shift the easy conversation to a heavy topic when we haven’t had time to properly speak to each other since last week. But he needs to talk and for reasons I still don’t fully understand I’m his favourite person to talk to. “I called Johann and said that we probably should have talked about it with Alex first before sending a letter to him and the federation. I mean we did it before, its not like he doesn’t know something is up, but we should have tried to tell him how serious we are. Alex wants to talk to us when the others are back from Japan. So, we will see how that goes but honestly the damage is done. Alex can´t take the things he did back, and we can’t unsent that letter.” Those situations are always a bit uncomfortable to say the least. I experienced it as well. The relationship between a trainer and an athlete is one of the closest you can experience. There needs to be a level of trust and understanding between them for it to work. Its strange when the dynamic changes. I can´t even imagine how hard when its with a trainer like Alex who has been through thick and thin with his athletes, especially Daniel. Alex was so supportive after Dannys fall and everything else that happened.

“I´m so sorry, Love. I know he means a lot to you. But just because he maybe won’t be your trainer anymore doesn’t mean he won’t be in your life. If you want to you can still be close to him.” Daniels is quiet for a few moments. Chewing on a bit of cereal and looking at the distance. Maybe I should ask Rob if I can fly to Norway instead of Slovenia. It wouldn’t be there first time that Daniel or I flew back home with the opposite team. After some long conversation Robert and I agreed that Daniel can train with us when he is with me, and Alex and Daniel have the same agreement. Honestly a fresh perspective helped me with my jumping once or twice which was a nice benefit. But as much as I want to it would not be right. My presence would be even more a hustle for Daniels Team and also, I want to enjoy training with a brother as long as I can. Daniels gaze focuses on the screen again. “I will think about it, when its final. Right now, I can’t do anything so why stress about it. Now its your turn. How are you doing?” I chuckle. That’s so typical Daniel. “I’m fine. Just a bit worried about you.” Daniel is shaking his head. He places his bowl on the couch table and takes his phone in his hands again. Now I can see his beautiful face even better. My gaze falls onto his full lips. Again I´m condemning the distance between us. “No. We talked enough about me. Now it´s your turn. Have you made peace with Peters retirement?” I groan. Not that topic again. Everyone wants to talk to me about the retirement from my eldest brother. Trainer, Teammates, other colleges, the press and Daniel. It´s being too much so I rather not talk about it anymore. I told Daniel right after Peter told me. I needed to talk about it then. It’s strange that I’m suddenly alone in world cup. Long time I wished for it to be honest. Peter is constantly watching over me but now that he is leaving it fells strange. Cenes departure from world cup was a hard hit and now that I´m going to be completely without them is just strange. Somehow, I always pictured my brothers in world cup with me forever. I probably need more than two weeks to shake that feeling off. “I promise I talk to you about when I need it. Right now, I am just annoyed with that topic. And you will talk to me about Alex when you need it. Deal?” “Okay we have a deal.”

Sunday

You are still leading! That message arrived when I made my way into the Slovenian cabin where nobody is. Timi is probably somewhere fuming after his disqualification so I’m glad that I don’t have to bother with that right now. I type: I know. Crazy but the best aren’t down yet. It’s the truth. The best three were still up there. But regardless it was a great jump and a great result after the first round. Secretly I am hoping that there will be a spontaneous storm so that we can cancel second round. I don’t know if I can deliver a second jump on that level anyways. I´m still to inconsistent. I put my back on the bench and quickly scan through it if I have everything. My telephone rings and I know who is on the other side before I even look at it. “You’re not inconstant on this hill with headwind. Stopp being a pessimist and start being a realist.” “I am realistic! But I told you I´m aiming for a podium for you so you bet I do everything I can.” I hear a loud cheer from Daniel, and I don’t know what it means. In the cabin there was no tv so I couldn’t watch the rest of the competition. Normally an assistant of Robert or Robert himself would be here soon to talk about adjustments. He would tell me where I finished so I can prepare and be in time. “Nobody should be that cheerful at three a.m.”, I say and sit on the bench. Peter should be here any minute. Before that I should end the call, or I can get a lecture about concentration. Especially today. “Its just that my boyfriend is first after the first round. That’s something I want to cheer about.” I open my mouth and close it again. “Really?” “Stefan is sixth, Ryoyu is fourth and Andi jumped pretty badly. Ah I´m so excited to see your top 10 video.” Oh my gosh. I am leading. When was the last time I lead after first round? “Well, that is a bit unexpected.” “Oh, come on. Your form is getting better and better, and you love the hill. Have a bit of confidence.”, is Daniel hyping me up. The door of the cabin opens, and a smiling Peter enters, followed by Robert. “I need to go, love you.” “I promise. You have got this. I believe in you.” With that the phone call is ending. Peter comes up to me and gives me a big hug. “You’re leading!” “I know, Pero. It’s just the first round.” He pats me on the back before he lets me go. My brother is still smiling like a maniac. The retirement made him so much more emotional. “That was a very good jump, Domen. Honestly no real adjustments are necessary.”, nods my trainer. I rather had a little mistake I could fix to concentrate on. “Can I do a few simulations? I have to much time left.” Peros raises his eyebrow. Even Rob looks a bit concerned. “Is everything alright?” “Yeah, but there still is a second jump. I won’t celebrate anything before I’m not down that hill twice.”

It’s strange to have that much time between the rounds. I am not really at the front of the field. I jumped twenty minutes earlier than the best. The FIS calculates that the best have enough time to get up the hill again even if they place badly. It’s a long wait. And one thing about me is that I hate waiting. The first time ever I am early on my way up the hill. Some other athletes are congratulating me which is just silly because I could still end up being last. Well 30th. Not dead ass last but still. My phone buzzes. Normally I wouldn’t check in the middle of comps, but I hoped that message was form Danny. I honestly need more of his reassurance. As a professional athlete I should be able to deal with this situation alone. I could but with him it was so much easier. As is everything else. I trust in you, kjekken. You got this! I know it’s hard but don’t think about it too much. It’s just another jump. I am instantly a bit calmer when I step into the small elevator that brings one up to the waiting room. It’s a beautiful day outside. Sunny and barely any wind. Better conditions don’t exist. I start typing when I hear a scream. “Can you hold that?” I look up from the screen and see a rushed Lovro, who was fifth after first round. With a reached arm I hold the door open so that my teammate can get in the lift with me. “Why are you so early? I thought we could go together.” I shrug. “I was done with everything and waiting up there is more relaxing than in the cabin.” Lovro looks me up and down. He gazes lays on the phone in my hand with which I´m tapping against my leg. My teammate is not the best when it comes to social interactions. Not that I am better. Lovro and I are on a similar level. I raise an eyebrow because I know he wants to say something but doesn’t know what. Until he figures it out, I reply to Daniel. I will try to win for you, babe. Apparently, it turns you on. “Don’t be too nervous. It is just another competition.”, is the comment my teammate came up with. “I´m working on it.” The elevator is finally at the top and we step into the waiting area. A bunch off other guys are there and it brings me a bit of comfort that I´m not practically alone up here.

I step outside directly behind Kristoffer, who is second after the first round. It was weird enough being in that room with him alone. Alone in there and I would probably get flashbacks form when I was 17. I take a deep breath and try to focus on the jump. The way down to the gate takes longer than I remembered. It takes ages for me to get to the gate. Daniel comes to my mind while I wait until it’s my turn. I still remember the number of times we stood up here together. It feels like an eternity away. So much has happened in between then and today. We fell in love, and he is now the most important person in my life. I trust him with my whole heart, and he believes that I can do it. So, I believe it too. I want to win this. For me. For him. Therefore, I sit on that gate with determination. And with that determination I’m letting loose and just jump. My first reaction after the landing was relive. I didn’t mess it up. It was as good as I could bring it today. If someone else is better than so be. I did everything right. That thought brings an even brighter smile to my face. It took me years to get to this point.

With a big smile on my face, I break as best as I could and stop next to my brother in the outrun of the hill. “I think its enough.”, he says. It was close with the green line, but my landing was pretty good. The better grades could decide between first and second today. I open my bindings and take my skis in my hand. FIS is making it exciting with the blue bar but when it moves fast, I know that I won. “Fuck yes!” I raise my skier in the sky and start to laugh. My teammates are all cheering for me. “Good job, Domci.” My brother pats me on the back, and I start to beam. I really just did that. I won again. After nearly five years I finally won again. And I hate to admit it, it was nice that my brother was still here to witness it.

As soon as I go through the exit gate a bunch of people are around me to congratulate but I just want to get to my phone. I quickly thank everyone and get to my bag as soon as possible. While I change, I simultaneously open my phone. There are already a dozen messages but just one is important. See I told you, you could do it. But honestly, I’m so proud of you. You absolutely deserve this. I don’t have time to reply properly. The first little podium ceremony is happening soon. That’s why I just sent a heart. Daniel will get it and the first thing I will do when I’m back in the hotel is call him.

Ryoyu, who ended up being second, comes up to me. “How does it feel to be back on top?” “I haven’t even realized it.” It takes it time to fully understand situations like this. In 2019 I understood the meaning of my victory after a few days. Obviously, it was different when I was 17 because everything is so much easier when your 17 and not thinking much. My colleague laughs. “Enjoy it. But don’t wait another five years for your next win.” “Next week is ski flying. A week sounds better.” I grin at him. Then our names are called, and we get into the inrun.

I forgot how long it takes when you win. Waiting for the podium, dozens of interviews, people that want to congratulate you. It all takes so much longer than I remember. Or maybe I´m just more eager to get back to the hotel to make a phone call. On the way to the hotel, I try to answer a few messages. Nika is the first person I reply to. We joked a bit around that I´m now chasing her seven wins. Then there is Cene who is apparently a bit sad that he couldn’t be here to see me win. His fault. He wanted to end his career early.

Finally, we pulled up to the hotel. We won’t stay long here though. The flight back home is departing in five hours. I look at Lovro who is sitting in front of me. “Hey man. How far are you with packing?” He turns around and smirks. “No worries. I´ll give you a bit of privacy but not more than half an hour.” I nod and mutter a thanks before I hope out of the van. I gather my things and practically sprint into the hotel. The people in the lobby give my funny looks but I don’t care. As soon as I´m in my room I call my boyfriend who picks up instantly. As if he has been waiting for my call. “You did it! You fucking did it!”, Daniel cheers and I chuckle. I run my hand through my hair and shake my head. With a few steps I´m sitting on my bed. “Said I would win for you.” It was a cocky response but after today I was definitely allowed to be a bit cocky. “I never doubted you.” My smile widens. “You helped me win it. Before the jump I held myself together because I knew that you believe in me.” “Domen that was all you. You jumped that good. I just gave moral support.” I roll my eyes because that is a typical Daniel response. It would be so much better if he was here. Since I have been down the hill, all I wanted to do is get a hug from him. I would give everything to share this moment with him. “We will definitely celebrate this when we see each other again.”, says Daniel as if he read my thoughts. “I can’t wait for it.”

#ski jumping #domen prevc #daniel andre tande #domiel #sj fic #i hope you like it #maybe ill write more #i kinda got into a flow

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passthroughtime · 3 months

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coming to your ask box to tell you that what you said about kuwana being protective of yagami is real and true actually. if kuwana weren't so busy trying to keep himself safe, he'd be doing more to try and keep yagami out of this (though he also desperately wants to be with him more). kuwana knows that yagami can handle a few scratches (and an explosion apparently, lmao) but he would take it very personally if anything ever happened to yagami ....i think. perhaps we're having shared delusions

thank you jichan, you're still the only one ever

yeah. though, he knew if he just went and disappeared without letting yagami know where he's going, it would kinda slow his process of getting into shit and endangering himself, even if for a bit. if kuwana actively and purposely involved him into everything, yagami would be in much more trouble i think. killing him was always an afterthought for RK, but if he'd be involved with kuwana more, well... it just paints a target on his back. and yagami wouldn't try to hide. he has ties to other people, he has something to lose.

so pushing yagami away and out of this all was a bit "two birds with one stone" kind of situation

though he also desperately wants to be with him more

yeah lol, i just realized that when kuwana gives him the pendant so he'd help ehara, he says that yagami is the only one he can trust with it, and like, really? you have lots of accomplices whose actions you can literally control, jeez, man xD

and of course kuwana suspected (or anticipated) that yagami would use this against ehara, so there's that also. but. his motivations are a mess, so we can be a little delusional about this as well i think

and an explosion apparently, lmao

explosion is nothing compared to all injuries yagami suffered in the end of JE, kuwana figured, he can survive a little explosion <3 it'd be good for him <3

but he would take it very personally if anything ever happened to yagami

no no, you're right. i mean, he does beat himself up over sawa, as well as mitsuru. he couldn't not feel responsible if this case would lead to yagami's demise as well. if anything, i can't say that kuwana doesn't care about other people. he even cares about his students even knowing that they despise him (i can't stop thinking about the fact that he agreed to meet with yagami so they'd release mamiya... it's not like he was afraid she'd spill everything, i mean, he tells yagami about a lot of things himself)

or maybe i really want to think that kuwana is a better person than he actually is. idk.

tbh i doubt my characterization of them a lot, hence all these disclaimers lol. and i really want to know other's opinions and why i can be wrong in how i view them? i mean, we are a small community. i can see people disagreeing with me, though in silence. but i want to discuss this, because i strive to see all sides of things, and i think it's fun to take their relationship apart again and again

i re-watch quite, uh. let's say, often the cutscenes featuring the two of them, and sometimes the moments where there's only mentions of them. i've started to write an "analysis" of each scene and their (presumed) reactions to their interactions, because it really does make things clearer in my head. i'm replaying the game rn, trying to see anything beyond my insanity lmao, but it's still just one view on things, you know? i really want to have a discussion and see where i can be wrong. and just... it'd be fun to listen other people talking about my favourite characters.

(is this approach insane? of course! but i'm having fun at the very least, and if i can have fun two years after i've finished LJ for the first time, well, i'll take it.)

when i say that i think about them a lot, i really mean it lol. (that's not my first rodeo, so business as usual for me.) but even if i strive to open-minded, and even if i re-visit canon again and again, it's hard to not be biased about lots of things.

and, yeah, i'm really glad to hear that you agree with me on this hc. but even if you, or anyone else, didn't, i'd want to hear all about it

#kuwagami #lost judgment spoilers #judge eyes #putting letters together one word at a time

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foreverlogical · 6 months

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In an editorial published last week, titled, “If Attitudes Don’t Shift, A Political Dating Mismatch Will Threaten Marriage,” the Washington Post’s editorial board points out that political polarization in this country has reached the point where it is now a prominent, often decisive factor in determining who Americans settle on as their potential mates. They emphasize this trend is now so acute it may actually threaten the institution of marriage as a whole. In particular, it seems that Democratic women are rejecting potential Republican suitors not only for marriage but as relationship material, all across the board. The message the editorial conveys — perhaps hyperbolically, perhaps not — is that as a consequence of this shift in attitudes marriage itself in this country is in jeopardy.

Presumably the Post’s editorial board has a good reason for alerting us to this phenomenon. But what it doesn’t bother to do is tell us “why” it is occurring, and if what the editorial portends is true, Americans would be well served by knowing “why.” Had the Post bothered to provide some basic context, explaining that young American women, in particular, are loathe to date right-wing (presumably Republican) men because they find some specific views, attitudes and values they represent to be abhorrent — in fact, incompatible with someone they’d ever want to share their lives with -- the editorial might live up to the serious social ramifications it implicates.

It’s easy enough to point to Donald Trump as the catalyst for such a drastic social upheaval, but by failing to address the actual belief and value systems his presence has stoked among Republican men and instead just throwing up their hands and asserting that such “attitudes” must change and that “someone will need to compromise,” the Post ends up simply doing a disservice to its readers. Because, quite honestly, an issue this profound affecting the country’s future deserves more than the shrinking, hesitant treatment the Post chooses to afford it.

At least the Post’s editorial does a decent job in explaining the underlying issue.

As the editors note:

The problem with polarization … is that it has effects well beyond the political realm, and these can be difficult to anticipate. One example is the collapse of American marriage. A growing number of young women are discovering that they can’t find suitable male partners. As a whole, men are increasingly struggling with, or suffering from, higher unemployment, lower rates of educational attainment, more drug addiction and deaths of despair, and generally less purpose and direction in their lives. But it’s not just that. There’s a growing ideological divide, too. Since Mr. Trump’s election in 2016, the percentage of single women ages 18-30 who identify as liberal has shot up from slightly over 20 percent to 32 percent. Young men have not followed suit. If anything, they have grown more conservative.

Maybe it’s just me, but is anyone else getting tired of hearing excuses about why “men” in particular are “increasingly struggling?” Higher unemployment? Really? It’s 3.9%. “Lower rates of educational attainment?” Nope. Those rates are higher than ever, for both men and women. Perhaps if the Post had acknowledged the reality of stagnant wage growth, out of control housing and health care costs — which affect women just as much (if not more) as men — that might have proved a more enlightening exercise. As for the psychological traumas fueling drastically “more drug addiction” and “deaths of despair” among men (but apparently not as much among women) — it also might have been helpful to ask whether it isn’t more a case of the male ego and a wounded sense of their assumed primacy in our society that’s actually the root of these problems, which aren’t occurring to the same degree in other countries.

But I digress. The Post’s editors do acknowledge that political polarization seems to be a driving factor in explaining this “collapse” in (presumably heterosexual) marriages: “According to a major new American Enterprise Institute survey, 46 percent of White Gen Z women are liberal, compared to only 28 percent of White Gen Z men, more of whom (36 percent) now identify as conservative.” Also, we learn that ”Whereas 61 percent of Gen Z women see themselves as feminist, only 43 percent of Gen Z men do.” The Post observes that as a consequence of this political divide, “A 2021 survey of college students found that 71 percent of Democrats would not date someone with opposing views.” Implicitly, then, this appears to be a Democratically-driven phenomenon (Republican men, apparently, are still willing to mate with anyone who will tolerate them). Accepting that premise at face value, then, the question still is “why?”

The Post grudgingly concludes that, well yes, there may be “some logic” involved.

There is some logic to this. Marriage across religious or political lines — if either partner considers those things to be central to their identity — can be associated with lower levels of life satisfaction.

What kind of “things” are so “central” to women’s identities that would compel them to so collectively reject Republican males? Rather than address that question, the Post instead chooses to punt.

This mismatch means that someone will need to compromise. As the researchers Lyman Stone and Brad Wilcox have noted, about 1 in 5 young singles will have little choice but to marry someone outside their ideological tribe. The other option is that they decline to get married at all — not an ideal outcome considering the data showing that marriage is good for the health of societies and individuals alike. (This, of course, is on average; marriage isn’t for everyone. Nor is staying in a physically or emotionally abusive marriage ever the right choice. But, on the whole, while politically mixed couples report somewhat lower levels of satisfaction than same-party couples, they are still likely to be happier than those who remain single.)

Those who click on the links in that paragraph will first be directed to an article in the Atlantic written by two members of the Institute for Family Studies (IFS), a right-wing think tank whose founders and contributors promote two-parent, heterosexual marriages, advocating fundamentalist “Christian” marriage principles and the abolition of no-fault divorce laws. The second link is to a survey on marital satisfaction conducted by the same conservative-leaning IFS. The rhetorical point being urged here, by both the right-wing think tank and the Washington Post, is that political polarization threatens the institution of marriage, and that marriage is desirable because married people are “likely to be happier.”

That’s a debatable proposition in itself, but again, it misses the point. Neither the Post editorial board, or the (uniformly right-wing) sources it cites explain the reasons this polarization is happening. Why it’s quite understandable that the prospect of dating someone who regards women as vessels to be forced to endure unwanted pregnancies; who supports a man currently accused by at least 26 women of sexual battery, sexual assault and rape; and who believes the solution to gun violence in our schools is to equip everyone with an AR-15, might just be a nonstarter for Democratic women (and maybe even some Democratic men!). Both the Post and its primary right-wing sources concede that this divide has greatly expanded thanks to Donald Trump, but neither of them take on the task of explaining why women are reacting the way they are.

Well, here’s why: It’s because by aligning themselves with Donald Trump, men are — implicitly and explicitly — declaring their allegiance to what he represents. Putting children in cages and tearing them away from their parents? Mocking those with disabilities? Mocking and belittling American servicemen? Lying about serial marital infidelity? Insulting and degrading women? Demonizing people of different colors, and different faiths? Refusing to take responsibility for … anything (except, perhaps, for overruling Roe v. Wade)?

These are the “values” that Republican men are projecting to women when they align themselves with Donald Trump. They’re values rooted in intolerance, bigotry and hatred. So, perhaps the more important question the Post should have explored is: Why any woman would want to commit the rest of their lives to such men? Why would anyone want to raise children by them?

But instead, the Post editorial board decides, in effect, that incorporating one’s politics into decisions about marriage itself is an idea that needs to be re-evaluated:

A cultural shift might be necessary — one that views politics as a part of people’s identity but far from the most important part. Americans’ ability to live together, quite literally, might depend on it.

In essence, what the Post suggests is that Americans — and particularly Democratic American women — ought to sublimate their own values for the sake of preserving the institution of marriage. They suggest a “cultural shift” might be necessary to accomplish this.

But that cultural shift has already occurred. If the institution of marriage is in trouble in this country it’s because so many men inadvertently revealed to women exactly what they stood for when they pulled the lever for Donald Trump. Perhaps the greatest irony of all is that those same religious-based “think tanks” that the Post cites — all of whom supported Trump in the first place -- have only themselves to blame for the destruction of an institution they claim to revere.

They shouldn’t worry so much, though. They’ll have the same opportunity to demonstrate their values in just a few short months.

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bloodboonfic · 5 months

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Analyst(hopeful) asked:

Hey a while back somewhere around chapter 20 you said you were a bit over halfway done. Where are you now by comparison? I also believe you said that you have more plot points to hit rather than a chapter count, so unfortunately you likely don’t have a chapter count for how much is left. Oh well for anticipation purposes. Don’t worry I’m pretty sure I am guilty of the same thing regarding chapter count.

Also I have a writing question. I ask this to most other writers because it makes me want to pull my hair out and I am always trying to improve especially if I want to actually publish something one day fan-fiction or otherwise. How do you prefer to plot?

I do have a question about your ideas about piglin fire tolerance in regards to Bloodboon. I’ve seen most writers chose the route of they still burn and some elaborate a bit more and chose the they still burn it just takes a bit longer than a human and their skin is a bit thicker. I prefer the second option because it makes sense.

I am currently less overwhelmed by questions right now. I am more overwhelmed by the amount of whump you are throwing Technoblade’s way. It hurts. Like all of his subconscious knowledge and conscious knowledge that he can’t make Philza happy and can’t keep the only friend he’s ever had because it is totally not a fair relationship coming to the front of his mind all the time and making him absolutely miserable. That water comparison of yours in the last chapter to tie strings so we could see his line and course of thinking was amazing. I hope it ends happily.

Also update on my au that I keep running into plot issues which I fixed but… Apparently after some research …I think like someone with more minecraft background than I actually have and I’m actually a little disappointed. Nothing new under the sun I guess or I’ve already read too much minecraft fan fiction, specifically emduo.

~~~

The fic is at the end of the middle, I’d say. Techno and Philza still have one more Event until their friendship meter is maxed out. I suspect the whole fic will come to be just shy of 40 chapters.

Uhhh I don’t like, actively plot? It just sorta happens? When I have an idea, it usually kicks off as a premise, then Events come up, and then I think of connective tissue between the Events. And once it all has stewed in my brain for long enough, I put it down as a bullet point list, then move the bullets around so that Events with causality relations are in chronological order (eg. the scene at the flight range can’t happen before Philza’s feathers grow back), and then move the floater Events (eg. Philza interacting with a pigling child can happen whenever) so that the pacing becomes nice. I try to alter between chill and intense bits, to give the story the chance to breathe. Too much chill is dull and too much intense is exhausting, you gotta go back and forth. And also sometimes things Just Happen, Philza’s breakdown in Ch 11 was completely unplanned, it just Became. And then sometimes you need 500 more words to get acceptable posting length so whelp time for Techno to wax philosophical about bread or whatever.

Also I Can Not write non-chronologically. Scenes are written in the order in which they happen, unless there comes a realisation after the fact that Something needed to happen earlier. I’m pretty sure most people hop around instead of going strictly in order? But that does not agree with the shape of my brain.

I think piglins having higher fire tolerance than humans makes sense. If you live in a hellpit, you adapt or you die.

Yeah Techno’s not having a good time lately huh? Guess stealing a person does not have great long-term results! /j

Not sure what to say to your last point, but in any case, would be stoked to give your AU a read come time of posting!

-Anchestor

#submission #asks

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late-to-the-fandom · 3 months

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Daily Writing Challenge - February 2024

Woohoo, I made it through Day 2 of @daily-writing-challenge February challenge! Prince Renathal's still hanging out in the Dragon Isles with no plans to go anywhere.

Day 2: Suppress - 500ish words, no warnings

As far as missions went, the restoration of Algeth’ar Academy was neither particularly urgent nor crucial, but the little cross-faction cohort assigned to it set themselves seriously to the task.

They crossed the now-hushed botanica swiftly, the troll and his raptors leading the way, followed closely by the tauren - who stopped to pick the occasional something from a tangle of lasher corpses - with the human paladin - the only representative of the Alliance and clearly uncomfortable with that fact - bringing up the rear.

Almost.

Reaching the edge of the staggeringly high tower with nothing ahead of them but a fathomless drop, the group turned. Their final two members - a Nightborne of some notoriety and her mysterious, disconcerting companion - had fallen behind. The former was listening raptly to one of the academy's professors: the blood-elf visaged dragon, with the well-coiffed ginger hair and neatly gathered goatee. The latter, stroking his own similarly-styled facial hair apparently unconsciously, followed their conversation through narrowed, yellow-red eyes.

The party had no choice but to wait. They stood in awkward silence, suppressing their various displays of justified impatience. The group's short time together had proved the Nightborne mage just as powerful as her reputation boasted, but had also uncovered her unfortunate habit of stopping to speak to every single person - however inconsequential - she met.

Another restless minute ticked by, then the Nightborne’s companion finally wrapped one long-nailed, almost claw-like, hand around her elbow and led her away. As the two drew closer, snatches of their murmured conservation could be heard.

“ - really didn’t find him familiar? Nothing about him at all?”

“My dear, all these elven faces tend to look alike to me. Why does it matter?"

"He just-"

The Nightborne broke off as she and her strange companion reached the rest of the party. The paladin straightened expectantly; the hunter clicked a short command at his raptors; the druid nodded once to the group's acknowledged leader, all anticipating her command. But the Nightborne remained silent. For a few tense seconds, her unreadable lavender gaze was fixed across the empty sky on the platform in the distance. Then she glanced behind her, saying almost to herself:

“There was just… something about him.” The others followed her eyes automatically as she watched the elf-visaged dragon saunter away. “Something familiar… I just… I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe I ought to stay… make sure he doesn't get into any more trouble…”

Her companion’s throaty noise of displeasure - and the deadly expression that accompanied it - made both troll and tauren shiver, the raptors cower, and the hairs on the paladin's arms stand on end. Placing a hand on the Nightborne’s back, he urged her firmly forward, declaring in a snarl that revealed the hint of pointed fangs:

“Absolutely not.”

Author's Note: IYKYK

#daily writing challenge #wow fanfiction #dragon isles #renathal x maw walker #renathal fan fiction #prince renathal #fanfiction #world of warcraft #shadowlands #dragonflight #and there was only one dragon!#domestic fluff #elisewin #the maw walker #nightborne

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crystalelemental · 5 months

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Unit Teambuilding - Neo Champion Rosa

Fun fact! Meloetta is my favorite mythical Pokemon. I adore this little Vocaloid baby. So I've been anticipating the day it finally got added. I always expected more of a seasonal/PokeFair kinda deal, maybe with Lisia, but apparently we're going full-on Master Fair with Rosa. So she's gonna be good, right?

General Overview Psychic Support. An instant OHKO on my hopes for a Normal Meloetta that type shifts, but I guess the plus side is my Psychic army is ever-growing. Also, she does type shift to Fighting, and all her moves seem to be Normal, as her sync is listed with Normal-type damage modifiers, so...I don't know, theme skills are weird.

Buddy Relic Song has AoE, and gives +1 crit, +2 to a random stat, and transforms Meloetta each use, with a passive giving +1 PMUN and SMUN each transformation. Her first attack in each form applies Psychic or Fighting rebuff, she gets both, and each attack gives +1 Sp Def (Aria) or +1 Def (Pirouette). Her trainer move is a pop +2 PMUN (Pirouette) or SMUN (Aria), with +2 team speed. She is the most consistent moves up next stacker in the game, with the most consistent fast-acting stacks in the game at present for either offensive type. And that's just her base kit, with two moves. She has Potion, and changes between Sing in Aria, and Teeter Dance in Pirouette. Her grid provides options like Precision Pals, MPR1 for even more stacking, Force Field/Team Stoic to get some guaranteed defenses, Curative Confusion for passive regen, Easy Pickings for random debuffs on foes, double Potion MPR, and Go Viral in case you really need Sing to just mess with the whole team, but I actually think Go Viral sleep is detrimental at this point in my life.

Rosa's rotation is fairly clear, at least to me. Spam Buddy move out the gate, while your allies handle boosting Atk/Sp Atk by themselves. By the time they're done, you're around first sync, which Rosa takes, getting Support EX buff. She then kicks in Sprint role and ramps so you're guaranteed second sync before foe's first. Then you either use Buddy move once to get to the form you want, or go straight to TM to stack moves up, until the opponent dies. There is no mercy. Only Meloetta.

Rosa's problems, however, are just as apparent. The main one is her Buddy move conditional. She needs to "not be in a pinch." Which is that red blinking HP level around 25%. Heavy hits in CS are a massive threat to her, and if she's taking Half Healing as a parameter, which is often free money in CS, it's hard to get her back on track. She also can't reliably buff Atk/Sp Atk, which means she's excellent for top-tier self-sufficient damage dealers, but pretty bad otherwise. Also she needs partners with good DPS attacks; low DPS gets borderline nothing from her. Another flaw, and this seems to be a personal stance, is that Sing is a bad decision. Yes, I hear you, general meta theorists. Sleep is insanely powerful and broken as a status for disruption. But it also means Rosa can't queue another action before the foe re-queues, which means if she's sleep-locking, she's not doing literally anything else. It also means having to run Troublemaker as a lucky skill to hit literally anything ever, because 45% accuracy. Even with the +20 accuracy she can get from grid, which is expensive and removes her better utility, AND the Precision Pals effect on TM, that's...around 85% accuracy. Which is still far too shaky to rely on. But she doesn't get Vigilance, so you're leaving yourself wide open on crits.

Which brings us to the big flaw. My first opinion of Rosa was "this seems kinda tame." It's because her grid sucks ass. Her kit does a lot, but considering that Blue not only had a super good base kit but also got an absurd grid that gave him even further tools that were unnecessary? Rosa feels like she should be getting more than this. Her tools are underwhelming on grid, and it's hard to build anything overly cohesive out of it. And like...no built-in Vigilance? I thought we fixed this shit with Melony; if you have Sing, you want Vigilance on grid so you can take Troublemaker, otherwise you're Elio, who is bad. Melony got this, but somehow Master Fair Rosa didn't? Why? This isn't exactly a tall order if a general pool can do it. Even her ability to boost team defense is +1 per attack, similar to Blue, but without his offense debuffing and chance for flinch. They even have the audacity to make them two separate skills on opposite ends of the grid. Rosa's grid legitimately feels like one of the worst all year for very little reason.

My stance on Rosa lands somewhere between "This is the best support in the game" and "Oddly under-kitted." Depending on partner, she's either the unquestionable best partner for 3v3 content given her stacking and defensive backbone with healing, or she's accomplishing next to nothing because her kit locked her into one niche unlike NC Blue who got to do literally everything at the same time. I think if the grid were less garbage, she'd have an argument for being better than him. But as it stands, she's at home among the other Master Fair support, but I don't know if I'd call her strictly better than Bede, and certainly not better than Blue. Which is just typical Kanto bias shit. My favorite couldn't just lose to Kanto, but to Zapdos? Rude.

EX, Role, and Move Level? If you're looking at Rosa like damn. I wish I had that kind of stacking power. 1/5 has all you need. Legitimately, she's fine 1/5. EX is a good idea for the stats, given her buddy move conditional, but you only need the one copy. 3/5 is when you just get silly with the defensive backbone she doesn't need but will gladly take, and some other niche tools that don't do much because again, I do not respect her grid. The EX Role is honestly one of the most worth it things ever. Support/Sprint is one of the best combos in the game, and my pick for outright best. It's perfect pace for 3v3 metas, ensuring two syncs before foe's first even without quad queue, denial, or Adrenaline. Supremely worth it. And good news! She's the first and currently only Sprint sub-Role! So you have the cake. Choose wisely though, because there's good odds of SST Red and Aura Cynthia at the start of the year with roles, and I have a feeling Cynthia's getting Sprint.

Team 1: NC Rosa, SS Lana, SS Lusamine Alright let's start with one on-type pick each, the best of each kind. Lusamine Hours. Rosa's +1 crit is all Lusamine needs for a successful fast-ramping nuke, and the ability to stack both types of Moves Up Next means both Lana and Lusamine fire at maximum capacity at all times. With a defensive-minded grid, she is able to consistently provide what Bede could not: a serious means of survival in High Score. Potion's pop heal just doubles down on this flexibility, achieving an absolutely bonkers performance. With Lana and Lusamine already fast-ramping to Lusamine's transformation, and Meloetta's Sprint role, she even contributes meaningfully to the ongoing Psychic Ramp meta.

Team 2: NC Rosa, NC Hop, Rei "But Aura Cynthia-" redundant. Rosa stacks harder than Cynthia could ever imagine, and the rebuff is much better than duplication of Zone. And with Rei's Sprint role, welcome to fast ramp central, complete with sure-flinch lockdown and rapid defensive drops.

Team 3: NC Rosa, Anni Lillie, Renegade Cynthia Okay, time to start getting a little silly with it. NC Rosa's ability to boost team speed, as well as boosting both offenses, anchors a dual strike opportunity like Lillie and Cynthia. Anni Lillie has tremendous DPS, and adores the stacks of SMUN. Meanwhile, Cynthia has the ability to store one type of moves up for the other, including a potential explosion off of Shadow Force. Having both options at her disposal allows Cynthia to just go ballistic here.

Team 4: NC Rosa, SS N, Glaceon/Colress As alluded to in the previous set, one thing Rosa can be incredibly funny for is the 2-turn move nuke. SS N's Freeze Shock is bullshit powerful, having 300BP at base. Now consider a situation where N gets to throw out Freeze Shock, but he's loaded up with PMUN. And also there's either Zone, or there's Def debuffs. Are we really...going to argue this one? I might actually, a non-EX SS N often fails me. Two-turn damage is still a problem.

Team 5: NC Rosa, SS Hilda, Blaine/NC Leaf SS Hilda is similar to Renegade Cynthia, being extremely high damage, but having both physical and special moves available. She can DPS nuke both ways. Add in Sun, and her damage is frankly batty. It doesn't even matter where the Sun comes from, anyone will do, but Leaf is the comedy hour option.

Team 6: NC Rosa, Nemona, Volkner/Jolteon Another fun option: Nemona. Nemona operates on burst damage, she's not good at DPS. Rosa's stacks PMUN for Nemona to throw around on her Buddy move as needed, while also having that coveted Sprint role for repeat fast-ramping. Nemona instant ramps, Rosa ramps off her sync, into Nemona's sync, which is also a ramp. Speedrunning. There's honestly an argument for Paulo in here if you have him. Just triple fast-ramp sync nuke deluxe, with two of them being Support.

Team 7: NC Rosa, Anni Steven, S!Liza Okay, NOW it's time to talk. NC Rosa, because of her buddy conditional, approaches CS with a bit of apprehension around field effects. The shuffling of parameters often means taking Offenses +5, which is when things get scary. When she ignores field effects, Rosa is at her most devastating. And with that in mind, enter one of my favorite cores, Anni Steven and Summer Liza. Both of them have very effective physical DPS, with Steven having fantastic speed control and Liza having the ability to rotate in Free Moves Next and her own PMUN. Rosa's ability to boost defense for the team off a 3/5 grid allows Liza to get to TM second turn with full Atk. Her TM boosting team speed eases their rotation of offense as well, as they throw around ridiculous numbers. And again, because Rosa can ramp with Sprint role, there's no more of this need for a denial to keep on pace. Liza will sync, and she will kill.

Team 8: NC Rosa, Paulo, Emmet Sprint ramping is real, and Paulo was a huge proponent of it with his sub-Support role. Paulo can take first sync to throw out his own Buddy move, which also removes Rosa's grid energy from defense boosting to put into other fun tools like Precision Pals on TM for their accuracy issues. Paulo's GMax having Sandstorm application, and his free -2 with Emmet's -1 TM in Sandstorm composing a fast-ramp, makes this a fairly strong Sandstorm core. That can then pivot into Rosa taking second sync for further ramping, with double Support EX bonus and massive stacks of moves up next on both allies. The accuracy here is key; Rosa's ability to grid in accuracy salvages the issues I have with Paulo's base kit.

Team 9: NC Rosa, Roxie, Looker I want to use this opportunity to stress something important. When you're dealing with these heavy moves up next stackers? +4 offense is sufficient. Obviously, +6 is the ideal, but you can make do. To that end, Roxie and Looker. +4 offenses is just fine for them, with the moves up next stacks more than making up for the missing +2. And with Rosa, there's always the chance that she rolls that +2 anyway.

Team 10: NC Rosa, Will, Brycen Okay this is really stupid but I realized something I could do and it was WAY too funny not to consider. So, Rosa has Teeter Dance, right? But no Stop Hitting Yourself. She partners with pairs who do, though. Mallow has poor offensive setup, and Sidney has poor DPS. But Will? Will has Stored Power. "But wait," you say. "Will has no self setup at all! How is he relevant?" Not so. Remember, Five Stats +3 is a thing. Will can simply copy and double their buffs, to get all his stats to +6 instantly! "Okay but...now you're dealing with stronger opponents." Not with Brycen here to Haze that shit. "Crystal this feels like a bad plan that could very easily backfire." True. But I bet it works.

Final Thoughts Rosa seems very good, and I am excited to try out her kit. I will acknowledge I think she also has some serious flaws which limit the teams she can support. She does not play well with sync nukers with low DPS, and she doesn't play nice with those who need full offensive support. But she does offer the best and most consistent moves up next stacking in the game at current, and given it's literally "every time you attack, +1 to both," this feels like a cap in the same way Aura Cynthia was. I doubt we'll get directly better than this any time soon. We just have to hope the Buddy move conditional isn't too great a burden.

#unit teambuilding #neo champion rosa #nc rosa

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