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the-boy-meets-evil · 5 months

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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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alittlebitofloveliness · 3 months

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can you pls write something with purly where curly hurts pony’s feelings and they argue but then curly tries everything to get pony to forgive him :))) basically super angsty with a happy ending

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long but it's also way longer than I anticipated so I hope it lives up to expectations. It's also not edited so please excuse any typos. Please lmk what you think xx

****************

“Fuck off, Curly!”

Curly has been told to fuck off a lot in his life. In fact, he’d even say he’s been told to fuck off by Ponyboy a lot in his life- but until now Ponyboy’s never meant it. Not really.

Now though, with his dreamy eyes blazing and his hands curled into fists it’s clear that Pony means it and Curly has well and truly fucked everything up. Tim was right- he really does ruin everything.

“Pony-”

He’s cut off when Pony takes a swing at him, and just barely manages to duck out of the way. It’s a testament to how much he likes Ponyboy and how sorry he is that he doesn't swing back. Restraint is not something he was raised with in the house where he learned to meet violence with violence because it’s better to leave a mark on someone else than to take all that hurt without dishing out your own.

Still. It doesn’t mean he’s not angry.

“Can you just fucking talk to me? I said I was sorry!”

“And I told you to fuck off, so fuck off!” Pony rages back, “You come anywhere near my house an’ I’ll set Darry after ya with a baseball bat! Me’n you are done Curly Shepard! Done!”

He storms off and Curly lets him because he’s lost a lot of people in his fifteen years and knows the look Pony just gave him is as final as any coffin being lowered into the ground or any car disappearing around a street corner.

Suddenly, he has the horrible urge to cry. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek hard until it floods with the taste of iron and makes his way to the liquor store, eager to forget everything that’s just happened and everything he’s just lost.

The broad behind the counter doesn’t seem to get the hint untill he pulls out his switchblade and makes it clear he isn’t asking to leave with the whiskey, he’s telling her he is. She yells after him, something about cops and trouble and Curly doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything.

Tim finds him when he’s drank at least a third of the bottle, chucking rocks at passing trains and spoiling for a fight. He’s close enough to Brumly territory it won’t be hard to find one if he really goes looking, and Marshall Decicio and him tussle often enough all he’d have to do is look at him wrong, but apparently Tim isn’t in the mood to have to drag him off of someone or out of a bar tonight because he pulls up in the beat up old pickup truck and tells him to get in.

For a second he thinks about refusing, about pissing Tim off too so he’d leave him alone like he deserves, but Tim is not the sort to take no for an answer and Curly wants to fight but doesn’t want to fight him, so he relents and gets in. Tim doesn’t say much, but Curly can tell that he knows, and the shame that bubbles up in him makes it so he can’t even look at him.

Ma is holding court in the living room when they get home, high as a kite at three in the afternoon, her buddies all in a similar state. She’s got some of the good stuff out on the table and for a second Curly considers reaching for it, considers taking something that will grant him a far better oblivion than the one his bottle has yet to offer, despite the fact it’s now almost half empty.

Tim yanks him away before he can.

“I know you love him,” he says, and Curly’s heart fucking sinks because he does, even if he couldn’t say it, and now Ponyboy wants nothing to do with him ever again, “but don’t go down a road you can’t come back from just ‘cause you don’t wanna feel it right now.”

“But-”

“No.” He can’t quite decipher the look in Tim’s eyes through his boozed up haze, “You’re not Ma, Curly. Don’t let yourself be.”

He half tosses half drags Curly to his room then, and Curly considers climbing out the window just to be a shit, but it’s warm in here, and Angel isn’t home right now so for once he has the room to himself. Him’n Pony could’ve been hanging out here, if Curly hadn’t been such a monumental asshole.

Hours later, when Angela gets back she finds him on the floor, lighting match after match just to blow them out again, his whiskey near empty at his feet. He’d thrown most of it up around the same time he choked a lot of it down, and while it hasn’t done much to get Ponyboy out of his head it sure has dulled any plans to go out again and do something stupid. He’d tried standing a little while ago and discovered he couldn’t seem to walk right.

“Idiot,” Angel says when she sees him, but it lacks any of her usual scorn, and not for the first time Curly thanks his unlucky stars that Angel- who isn’t soft for anyone- can sometimes be soft for him. When he needs her, and sometimes even when he doesn’t.

She grabs his latest lit match and uses it to light herself a cigarette, before hauling him to his feet and dumping him on his mattress.

“You ain’t gonna puke are you?”

“Already did,” Curly mumbles, suddenly feeling more sick than he has in a while and Angel just nods, sitting next to him and pulling her knees to her chest.

She’s small, like him, always has been but she makes up for it by having a big attitude and a big temper, and right now, a big protective streak.

“You okay?”

And, no, Curly thinks it’s pretty obvious he isn’t.

Angela nods. “I uh, I heard what happened.”

A fresh wave of guilt claws its way up Curly’s throat.

“It’s stupid,” Angela continues, and Curly snaps his head up to stare at her. He’d made fun of Pony’s dead best friend. It was cruel was what it was, and Curly has never known how not to be cruel, but there's no one he’d tried not to hurt as much as Ponyboy and then he’d gone and hurt him anyway.

You ruin everything. Tim’s words from a week ago echo in his head again and he bites his cheek again to stave off the tears.

“Stupid or not,” Curly hears his breath hitch, “he ain’t ever gonna speak to me again.”

Angela fixes him with a glare. She’s good at that.

“Make him.”

“Angel-”

“Are you a Shepard or not? You know well as I do that if you want something you have to take it.”

“Oh sure,” he rolls his eyes but stops immediately when it makes his brain hurt, “I’ll just go over to the Curtis place and start chattin’ while Darrel Curtis beats my head in.”

“Jesus, quit bein’ a drama queen, that's Ponyboy's job. Yours is to fix this.” She rolls her eyes, “Or don’t. Go ahead and rot for all I care.”

She climbs to her feet, scrubbing a hand through his hair before she leaves, muttering under her breath about how this is the last time she tries to help him with anything.

Curly grins. He’d never admit it, but Angel really is his best friend in the whole damn world, for all she’s a bitch of the highest degree. She knows the score.

Suddenly, it’s easy to fall into a dreamless sleep.

When Curly wakes the next morning, head pounding and mouth drier than Tim’s sort of humour, he’s ready. It’s time to put his plan into action.

If getting out of bed was torture, walking into WIll Rodger’s high school has to be his own personal hell. He can already barely stand this place when he isn’t violently hungover, but Ponyboy will be here and Curly only ever wants to be where he is, even if they aren’t speaking right now.

They only have two classes together- spanish, where Curly usually sits beside him and whispers dirty things in his ear Pony has long since learned not to ask the teacher to translate for him- and phys ed. Pony’s too smart for them to be in anything else together, and PE isn’t until the end of the day. No way is Curly sticking around that long.

So spanish it is.

He’s fifteen minutes late when he walks into the class but the teacher just sighs and tells him to take a seat. Honestly, Curly thinks the old guy’s got a soft spot for him. He used to think it was because he speaks spanish already so the teacher didn’t much have to worry about trying to teach him, but Angel speaks it too and Mr. Dimirend can’t stand her so Curly doesn’t know. Must be his irresistible charm.

His usual seat is taken by a blond haired soc Curly decides is his new enemy number one, so he takes an empty seat at the back of the class and gets to work making spitballs.

The first is a direct hit, landing in Pony’s slicked back hair and sticking there, but the guy’s got a mop that could rival Curly’s own and he doesn’t seem to feel it. Spitball two goes wide, then Mr.Dimirend sets them a speaking task and everyone turns to their seat partner and starts talking in a horrible bastardization of Curly’s beloved native tongue, so he gets distracted by sending spitballs at the worst of them. Honestly, this is supposed to be an AP class. You’d think they’d at least try and roll their ‘r’s.

Socy Blond McFuckface is trying and failing to ask Ponyboy what his favourite colour is when Curly’s spitball lands right in his wide open mouth and the kid gags, immediately spitting and starting to choke. Curly rolls his eyes. it’s not like he’s gonna die from a spitball.

Of course the whole thing kind of becomes a deal, and Mr.Dimirend looks kind of concerned, but Ponyboy is stifling laughter so the whole thing is kind of worth it, even when he gets detention- at least, it’s worth it until he tries to meet Pony’s gaze and share the joke and Pony pointedly refuses to look at him, jaw tightening as he turns back to the front.

Curly gets up and walks out of class, deaf to Mr. Dimirend yelling after him. What does it even matter? It’s not like he doesn’t already know how to conjugate verbs in the conditional future tense.

Besides, he’s got a more important conditional future to worry about right now.

Phys ed isn’t until the end of the day, but Tim isn’t here to make him go to his other classes so Curly sure as hell isn’t gonna. He thinks maybe he might go key some socs car in the lot just to feel something. Or maybe he’ll try and find Bryon Douglas so he can beat the shit out of him.

“Curly Shepard I know that’s not you skippin’ your english class right now.”

Despite himself, Curly grins.

“Me? Skip class? C’mon Miss D, you know I’d never,” he drawls, giving his best impression of Angel’s wide eyed innocent look, “I gotta keep all them dirty hoods in line.”

The lunch lady shakes her head, giving him her best unimpressed look even as her black eyes twinkle. Curly doesn’t respect pretty much any adult figure, but he can’t help but like Miss D. She reminds him a bit of how abuela used to be whenever she was sober and before she went senile. Except she’s a lot smaller than abuela ever was, and her skin is a few shades darker than abuela’s, closer to his own shade than to Tim or Ma’s.

Miss D tilts her head, sizing him up. He fully expects her to frog march him to his english class, scolding him all the while in her native Tamil that he wouldn’t comprehend but would understand just the same.

“Come with me,” she says instead, tuning on her heel, and Curly knows better than to argue. Usually with the aunties or grandmothers it’s best to do as he’s told.

Miss D leads him through the back door of the cafeteria and through the kitchen, all the way to a tiny back room that’s probably used for prep if the walk in fridge and counter space is any indication. She pulls down a cutting board and parks him in front of it, dropping a pile of tomatoes beside him.

“Here.” She passes him a knife (and isn’t that a bold choice), “Slice them into circles for me.”

“If I’d known you was gonna set me to work I mighta taken my chances with the english class.”

He wouldn’t and Miss D knows it, because she simply raises an eyebrow at him. Curly picks up a tomato and starts chopping.

Miss D. gets her own cutting board set up, her slices a lot faster and more even than Curly’s, before she speaks.

“You are upset.” She’s not asking, and for the millionth time Curly wonders how she seems to always know everything, “Why? What did you do?”

Curly glares down at the cutting board and slices a tomato a tad harder than is probably necessary.

“Nothing.”

“Do not lie to me, boy.”

The words are severe but her tone is kind. He’s always been comforted by her accent, a remnant of her life back in Ceylon, so different from abuela’s but alike in how different is it from the drawl of everyone else in the american south. Maybe that’s why she can always manage to get him to spill his guts, even when he doesn’t really want to. Abuela used to be able to make him do the same.

“My best buddy is mad at me,” he admits, and it sounds stupid but it isn’t because Pony is his best buddy but he is also more than that, so much more, and he can’t lose the only person who seems to like him no matter how stupid or reckless or strange he is. He can’t.

Miss D hums. “And why is he mad?”

“I did something stupid,” Curly admits, the shame welling in his chest along with the urge to go and do something dumb to forget about it, “we were arguing and I said something mean. Like, horribly mean. I forgot that he ain’t Angel or Tim, that it wasn’t like at home where it’s no holds barred and we just move on, yknow? I forgot he wouldn’t realize I didn’t mean it, not really. His house-” he hesitates, struggling to put stuff into words. Feelings have never made sense to him, and now is no exception, “his house ain’t like mine, y’know? Every fight in his family ain’t a fight for survival so he don’t ever say stuff like what I said to him, and I-I ruined it. He’s the best buddy I ever had and I ruined it, the way I ruin everything.”

“I see,” Miss D says, scooping his chopped tomatoes into a bin, and waving him to follow her into the kitchen, “that seems like a difficult situation.”

“Whatever.” Curly says, sick and tired of being vulnerable and mad Pony makes him this way, “I don’t care.”

“Now you aren’t just lying to me, you’re lying to yourself.”

“It ain’t a lie.” Curly lies.

Miss D shakes her head as she drops a basket of fries into the fryer, the tomatoes waiting on the counter. Must be burger day then- for anyone who can aofford it that is.

“We were having such a good chat. Don’t run away from me now.”

Curly shakes his head, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Curly Shepard,” suddenly she’s in front of him, her twinkly dark eyes staring into his own blue ones, “you listen to me now, and you listen good. You do not ruin everything. Some things, yes. You are not always a good boy. But I have yet to hear of an instance where Ponyboy Curtis has not forgiven someone he cares about.”

Curly’s eyes widen, “how did you-”

“I hear much of the school gossip,” Miss D dismisses, waving a hand, “I work in the cafeteria. And you do not have many friends. It was not hard to guess.”

Geez. He really is pathetic when it comes to Ponyboy if even Miss D knows they’re buddies. No wonder Angel rags on him for it.

“Now,” Miss D. continues, “did you apologize to him?”

“Yes! I said I was sorry.”

“That is not always the same thing.”

Curly thinks back to their argument, to the way Pony’s eyes had darkened, hurt and anger flashing across his face, thinks of the moment he realized he might lose him, of his own desperate pleas, of ‘please, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean it’, of ‘Pony c’mon’ of ‘I said I was sorry’. Maybe Miss D is right. Maybe he didn’t mean it, not like he should have. He said it because he regretted it yes, but he said it for himself, because he was afraid to lose Pony, not because Pony deserved to hear it.

“Here,” Miss D hands him a plate of fries, “youve got ten minutes to eat these before your next class, and you’d better not be late.”

“Thanks Miss D.” He doesn’t just mean for the food. Evidently she understands because she gives him a small, warm smile and ruffles his hair before getting back to work.

Curly eats his fries and goes to class.

Geography is a bullshit course at the best of times, but at least it gives Curly time to think. The thing is, he’s not sure he’s ever properly apologized for anything in his life. He’s not really sure how to do it. For one thing, he’s rarely sorry for anything he does. For another, remorse in the Shepard house consists of stealing each other stuff until forgiveness is granted with a pat on the back or the ruffling of hair. They don’t really do the whole ‘talking things out’ thing. But the Curtis’ do. Ponyboy does. So Curly figures he better figure it out, and quick.

He scrawls some stuff down while the teacher drones on about continents and whatnot, but nothing sees good enough and after his fourth attempt he gives up and starts entertaining himself by pinning the braid of the soc girl in front of him to his desk with his switchblade. She squeals like a piglet and gets yanked back into her seat when she tries to stand up and Curly laughs so hard he almost forgets his knife when he beats it outta there. The girl’s preppy looking soc boyfriend tries to chase him but Curly’s gone before the guy even makes it to the door, melting easily into the crowd in the hallway.

He skips chemistry in favour of dicking around and smoking with some of the guys he knows from the drag race scene, since Mrs. Costen still hasn’t really forgiven him for pulling the chemical shower last week. The hour passes far too quickly and suddenly he’s in the changeroom, getting ready for PE, and focusing very hard on not sneaking glances at where Pony is lounging about shirtless and chatting with one of the guys from the track team.

Curly kind of wants to throw something. It has absolutely nothing to do with the way Ponyboy’s bare shoulders look or the way he tilts his head when he laughs.

Jesus, it’s goddamn indecent. He should put a shirt on.

Curly changes quickly and leaves before he does or says something else he’ll regret. If he sneaks one more look as he goes at the way Ponyboy’s back muscles flex as he pulls a t-shirt over his head, well, thats no ones business but his own.

Mr.Harris, the gym teacher, is smart for all he is the most annoying fucking teacher Curly has ever had the misfortune of having- and that includes the bitch back in fifth grade who tried to tape his hands to the desk after he put a frog down Carmen Sanchez’ shirt during reading time.

However, Mr.Harris is also apparently going to be his saving grace today, because after he reminds them that they’re doing their wrestling unit (which is dumb, because ground fighting ends a lot easier when you can punch, kick, and aim for the balls) he very carefully goes through the class and paires up people who are unlikedly to actually take it too seriously- that is to say, socs get paired with other socs, and greasers get paired with other greasers.

“Curtis,” Mr.Harris says, “you’re with Shepard. Make sure to show him what we went over since Monday, I don’t have time to reteach those who think chronic absences are some sort of joke.”

“Actually sir-” Pony starts to protest, but Harris moves on, completely ignoring him. Which, hey, no one- especially not judgy old Mr. Harris- gets to ignore his Ponybabe, which Curly would be more than willing to tell him if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure Pony was about to ask him to switch partners.

“Ponyboy-”

“Don’t.”

“Pony-”

The next thing Curly knows he’s flat on his back on the mat, the wind knocked out of him, and Pony is on top of him, twisting him into a pretzel and not in a fun way.

“That’s called a double leg takedown.” Pony says, breath hot on Curly’s cheek, his eyes hard as emeralds and Curly has never been so simultaneously confused and remorseful and turned on in his life.

They get to their feet.

“Pony please-” Curly tries, and he’s back on the mat again. Shit he can’t be doing this, rough housing with Pony does things to him, always has, even if Pony’s being more rough than playful. Scratch that maybe especially then.

He should not be thinking about this right now. He’s supposed to be apologizing.

“That’s a single leg takedown.”

Pony’s breath ghosts over hi ear and he shivers.

They set up again. This time Curly is ready, if not prepared. Pony lunges in, and Curly grabs for him but not before Pony sidesteps and throws him down sideways, hastily pinning him before Curly can sit up.

“That’s a hip toss.”

“Jesus,” Curly wheezes, “I get it, you can thow me around with your fancy wrestlin’ moves. You gonna talk to me yet?”

Ponyboy responds by tackling him again.

Fine. So that’s how it’s gonna be. Pony tosses him twice more, once with what Curly is calling a lucky hit and once with some move called a fireman carry that might be the hottest thing Curly’s ever seen. The next time, Curly manages to grab Pony’s leg and hold on tight, driving into him with his shoulder until Pony trips back and they crash together onto the mat, rolling until Curly’s half sitting on top of him, holding Pony’s wrists so he can’t shove him off.

“Please will you just talk to me?”

Pony glares and then turns his head away pointedly ignoring him.

“Please,” Shepards don’t beg but Curly’s begging now, “please, just hear me out. I’m real sorry, I swear it. I owe you a proper apology, I know it. Just give me a chance.”

Green eyes meet blue, softening just a bit, and Curly thanks his unlucky stars that Ponyboy Curtis is ten times the man he will ever be.

“Fine. After class.”

Curly doesn’t care that he gets tackled for the rest of class. It feels like he’s winning anyway.

The bell rings and Curly follows Ponyboy to the changeroom, sneaks a glance at the guy’s collarbone, and prepares himself for the most important conversation of his life.

“Well?” Pony says, once they’ve both lit a cigarette, his free hand shoved deep in the pocket on his blue jeans.

“I”m sorry,” Curly starts,taking a deep drag and looking anywhere but at him, “I didn’t mean what I said but I still shouldna said it in the first place. It was shitty an’ it was meant to hurt you and I swear if you’ll give me another chance I’ll never try and hurt you again. I mean it. I can’t promise I won’t hurt you by accident but I’ll never do it on purpose.”

Pony considers him, head tilted like it does whenever he thinks really hard or laughs without thinking. He’s not laughing now though, but his eyes aren’t as murderous as earlier so Curly thinks that’s probably a good sign.

“That it?”

“No,” Curly swallows. He knows how badly this next part could go, how much Pony had cared about Johnny Cade, how bringing him up is still the surest way to get him all riled up, “I, uh, I never told you I’m sorry about what happened to Cade, but I am. He and I never got along but I know he was your best friend and I’ve been thinkin’ about it since yesterday and if I ever lost my best friend,” he gives Pony a significant look and Pony rolls his eyes, “I don’t think I could stand it. I swear i’ll never say anything like what I said again.”

“That’s right you won’t.” Pony says, and there’s a dark promise in those words, “I appreciate you sayin’ what you said just now, but you don’t get to talk about him. Never again, savvy? You hated him and he hated you. I know it, Soda knows it, hell, everyone does. So you keep his name out of your mouth, alright? I don’t want you in my memories of him, even if you’re gonna be nice about it from now on”

“I savvy.” Curly agrees. It’s true he and Cade couldn’t ever stand each other. Still, they’d both cared for Ponyboy, so Curly will keep his name out of his mouth, for Pony’s sake. “Promise.”

Pony nods and his shoulders relax just a bit.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“So…we’re cool?”

At that Pony laughs outright, and Curly feels the weight that’s been sitting on his chest since yesterday finally lift. His Ponyboy is back.

“Yeah,” Ponyboy’s smile is soft, “we’re cool. Now let’s get some food. I’m starvin’ and you owe me a milkshake.”

Curly grins and follows him, not caring where they’re going. As long as he’s with Ponyboy he’s exactly where he wants to be.

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #curly shepard #PaperCut #purly #angela shepard #tim shepard #johnny cade #the outsiders fanfiction

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madelynraemunson · 11 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.

———————————

🏷️ tag list: @battymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86, @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr, @jxpsi , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123

#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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chimggukchim · 3 months

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ARE YOU SURE?

Aptly titled, I would say.

Because like most jikook supporters I'm sure, I'm still like..."Am I sure this isn't some dream? Are we really getting this much OFFICIAL jikook content?"

Anyway. Yes, I think we were all shocked when that schedule was released and we realized we were not just getting the expected documentary, but a freaking PHOTOBOOK and MERCH too!

Now, I've seen some posts address anon comments about this being a cash grab etc etc etc

My stance is: It IS a cash grab...AND SO WHAT?!

HYBE is a company. Their goal is to make money. Therefore, any paid-for content they put out should be seen as a 'cash grab' then. Solo member photobooks, BTS merch, All documentaries, Albums etc. Yet we don't hear the phrase floating around then. So the cash grab argument here doesn't even begin to make sense.

So why put that out there? Simple:

Those who are using it have one clear intention - Minimize Jikook spending time together down to...umm...what's that age old phrase?...Ahh, yes...FAN SERVICE!

They think they're so slick.

Well, here's the probable reality of it all:

Jimin and Jungkook knew enlistment was coming. They made a choice and decided that wanted to spend time together.

At the same time, the BTS members were all leaving various content to tide us over.

It would be no stretch of the imagination to believe that either

jikook were approached by BigHit to turn part of their already planned vacays into content since it would be a nice change and fans would love it.

2. BH had planned to have a travel show, and jikook grabbed the opportunity to do it, knowing that it would also mean they get to spend time together (what they wanted) while working. Killing 2 birds with 1 stone as it were.

Either way, I firmly believe that with or without a documentary, Jimin and Jungkook would have travelled together anyway. Who knows? They may have well travelled to other places which were not documented. And even within filming, I am sure there were places they went and things they did that were not filmed, and just for them.

The fact that we're also getting merch and a photobook is a pleasant surprise, and yes, it does seem as if HYBE is capitalizing on the much anticipated documentary of two very popular members, and 1 very popular duo.

And I don't blame them. Again, they're a company whose goal is to make money.

They're simply putting out an additional product that people can simply choose to purchase or not.

And I for one am here overjoyed because it's just more jikookery for me. So, I don't care.

BUT! It does not minimize that at the core of it all, no matter how much paid-for content is put out, this whole thing was based around one simple fact - Jimin and Jungkook WANTED to spend time together.

And they did.

And that is apparently a very hard pill to swallow for some.

So they concoct yet another false narrative as their coping mechanism.

So let them be. It's going to be a very, VERY rough two months up ahead for them, my fellow supporters.

Let's just focus on having fun with jikook, enjoying what we get and flooding our timeline with all things Jimin, Jungkook, and Jikook.

#jikook #kookmin #jungkook #jimin #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #park jimin #jeon jungkook #mingguk #jikook travel show #jimin and jungkook

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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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dramionestills · 10 days

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Dramione month day 8: marriage contract

Three sharp knocks on his office door made him lose concentration from the report he’d been trying, and failing, to complete before the end of the day.

“Come in.” He might as well see what this was about as it was evident the report would not be getting done today.

The door opened quickly and a rather nervous Hermione Granger entered. Curious.

“Granger”

“Hi. Hello. I.. umm… may i?” she gestured at the door, hoping for some privacy.

“Of course.”

She closed the door behind her and approached his desk. He nodded his head at her, inviting her to take a seat. This was clearly something important and he was becoming more intrigued by the second.

“How may I be of assistance?” his head cocked to the side, taking her in and attempting to suss out what brought the brain (and beauty, if we’re to be honest) of the Golden trio to his office.

“I have a proposal for you.” Color rose to her cheeks almost immediately upon saying this. “Of sorts.”

“Granger, if I didn’t know any better I might think you were asking me to marry you” he chuckled lightly at the absurdity of the notion, except…

“Well…” She was avoiding looking him in the eye

“Explain”

“You know what? This was a mistake, I’ll just see myself out” But as she was attempting to stand up Draco waved his wand, simultaneously locking the door and sending a gust of wind towards her which ford her to remain seated.

“Granger, now you have to tell me what this is about. Am I correct in understanding that you came up 7 floors from your department and sought me out specifically to ask me to marry you, regardless of the fact that we are barely acquaintances these days and we haven’t spoken more than three words to each other in the past month?”

Hermione, still blushing a delightful shade of pink, nodded her head. She closed her eyes and began to explain.

“Look, I understand that this is coming out of nowhere for you. I do. But it’ll make sense after I explain. I swear.”

“I’m listening.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk and intertwining his fingers together. His chin lays perfectly in the divot created between his forefingers and his thumbs. Hermione cannot help but think he looks imposing and large and were those horn-rimmed glasses he was wearing? Since when does he wear glasses?

“I started using them a few years ago, Granger. You are stalling.”

Apparently she had said that out loud, proving to be more anxious than she had originally anticipated.

“Right. Remember the Smithson case from a few weeks ago?”

“The one who went free due to an antiquated law even though his crimes definitely meritted at least life in Azkaban?”

“Exactly. It’s been brought to my attention that this is not the first time situations like these have happened, wherein a culprit is let go because the victims of their crimes happen to be unprotected by the laws that see them as undesirables or just… less than.”

“You mean Muggleborns.”

“Yes. For the most part.”

“I still don’t understand how this means marriage.”

“Well, I was venting about this during girls night a couple of weeks ago and Pansy mentioned that the only way to actually do something about this would be to change the laws currently in the books from within the Wizengamot.”

“Ah. So you are after the Malfoy Wizengamot seat, then.” His head begins spinning with the possibilities; who would have ever thought that he would be in possession of something that not only does he have absolutely no interest in (the Malfoy seat laying abandoned in most Wizengamot hearings, wasted) but also is of vital importance to a swot like Granger?

“Yes. I know you are not currently making use of it, I presume because you’ve no interest in the more tedious aspects of legalese. I could have of course just asked you to help me and do me the favor of enacting the changes yourself, but Pansy has mentioned how much you love your job as the Ministry’s Head Potioneer and though I don’t doubt your capabilities teaching you and telling you exactly which laws and how I wish to amend them would be, frankly a waste of time. So, I thought, perhaps we could agree to marry. A.. a contract of sorts. Wherein I get to use the Malfoy seat to change things as is needed and upon completion of my, well I guess you could call it a mission? Anyways upon making sure the laws are repealed and new ones are set into place that are more in keeping with our current societal mores we could get a divorce. I expect to be done in no more than 5 years, it would be in name only you wouldn’t even have to see me, I swear and I promise I will not seek any money in the divorce, or anything of the sort. This is strictly business for me.” She was panting after her soliloquy, her hair expanding with her nerves and her flush intensifying. A very fetching look, if anyone were to ask Draco.

The silence after she finished speaking seemed to stretch unbearably. She was itching to get up and leave Malfoy’s office but the door remained locked.

After what felt like an eternity Draco nodded.

“Sounds as if you’ve given this quite a fair bit of thought. I have to say, my neglect of the Malfoy seat has been on my mind lately. You are quite right in that politics and law are not my areas of expertise. I think your… proposal has merit. But there are certain things I feel must be reviewed before I can accede to this.”

“Of course, we can definitely negotiate this to make it better suited to your needs.”

“My needs. Exactly.” There was a sudden heat in his gaze, but surely Hermione was imagining things, right?

“We will be meeting this friday to properly discuss this. 8pm. La trattoria d’il vicolo.”

“Perfect! Thank you so much for not laughing in my face and actually taking the time to consider this Malfoy. I know we don’t necessarily get along too well but well, Pansy was right, you are definitely more amenable these days. See you on friday.”

He just tilted his head as we waved his wand to unlock the door..

Hemione got up understanding it as the dismissal it was.. As she was leaving his office, her mind reeling from the possibilities that her incredibly convoluted and a little crazy idea actually coming to fruition could bring she had a thought that stopped her in her tracks.

“Hey, isn’t La trattoria d’il vicolo known to be the most romantic restaurant in Diagon?”

Draco just smirked. “Yes. It is.”

The door shut as Hermione’s flush returned in full force. Just what had she gotten herself into?

#draco malfoy #fanfic #dramione art #draco x hermione #dramione #dramione month #crossposted on twitter #will post on ao3 when i figure it out

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egg-witch · 2 months

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As usual I am thinking too hard about the biology of fictional characters so. Thoughts I am compelled to share about Boothill below

Canonically he has synthetic, blue blood. This would cause his skin tone to seem quite strange and greyish. Extra so if he's as pale as he is in-game but this would still be apparent with most darker skin tones as well. Man's gonna be looking a bit like a zombie

The intent here is debatable but I also choose to interpret that same line to mean that he does *not* have a synthetic heart - the original's still in there, just running on new juice

Related to this and also the fact he can seemingly have a bullet explode in his mouth without serious repercussions I am going to assume that his skull and whatever else would be left of his skeleton have been enhanced or replaced (having human bone marrow in there making new blood cells would likely mess with things if they replaced that whole system)

This is very funny to me because it seemingly means instead of just putting his brain inside a whole synthetic body the doctor went to the trouble to keep his original face, despite replacing/augmenting his teeth, eyes, tongue and, one can extrapolate, his entire damn skull. He was ready to give up everything except his pretty complexion I guess...

(Unless his face *is* synthetic and intellitrons just have no desire for a realistic human face with the capacity to emote? The rest of boothill's body seems flexible in a way that would suggest a good synthetic equivalent to human skin, so... it's plausible)

Speaking of, I really do not subscribe to the idea that he can't feel anything from the neck down. Do you know how hard it'd be to do anything as a human with a meat brain (or even as a robot for that matter) without any haptic feedback? If they have the technology to make him a whole new body that has equal or better mobility and general function than the old one then they can make it feel things, I promise. Probably not in all the same ways human flesh can feel things, especially if a lot of it is rigid plating, but it'd still be conductive to heat and electricity at least

I know the reason his model is that way is bc it's just a different texture on the same default character model, hence it bending and stretching like a soft body - building, rigging and animating a humanoid body that truly moves like a rigid machine would be an absurd amount of work and also limit the visual design, his canon design straight up would not be able to move or work if all those parts really were rigid no matter how you approached it lol. but it is very hot and looks cool which is what really matters. so I've settled on most of the "plating" being tough but still somewhat flexible, not actually metal but an advanced synthetic material of some sort. and then material more like an artificial skin between joints and in the parts that need extra stretch and flexibility. he's harder (and heavier) than a human but he's not a tin can

Based on screwllum's dialogue that he can and does eat regular food (but the phrasing implies that he could also eat other stuff? And there's that exchange from one of the light cones where ruan mei makes a joke about him having to drink machine oil) and the implication that the doctor who gave boothill his new body was an intellitron, I think boothill must have something similar - he can still eat normal food but also process other things. Idk if the fuel hatch on his back is a redundancy then or what. Could just be that nobody anticipated he'd think gasoline tastes good lmao

(side note while it's kinda implied in game that his weird tastes are a result of an augmented mouth and tongue I like to think he was always like that. He was eating rocks out of the garden as a kid and licking rusty old coins and stuff u can't convince me otherwise)

(also this is getting off track but this guy clearly has some kinda fixation on like. machinery. I think even though he did it for unrelated reasons he thinks his cyborg body is very hot and probably also has a little bit of a thing for intellitrons ngl. which is interesting given his history and the associations one would first assume he'd have with that kind of technology and aesthetic, but. can't fault a guy for knowing what he's into)

Whoops this got super long

Stay tuned for the sequel, "KC analyses boothill's personality way too seriously"

#boothill #hsr boothill #headcanons I guess #this kind of thing would normally go into a fic but I'm feeling lazy so #instead u just get my rambling

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ryuichirou · 4 months

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Playful Land: thoughts and long overdue replies

Since we finally finished the event, I can finally share our thoughts about it! There are some asks related to it that we had in our ask box ever since the event first came out, and now I am finally coming back to them lol I hope at least some of the Anons are still interested in what we have to say.

I’m skipping everything with headcanons for now; I haven’t written those yet… but it’s likely going to be another big masterpost, so please bear with me. Thank you for your patience!

In short: we enjoyed the event very much. Now, let’s dive into details…

Anonymous asked:

Hey Ryu and Katsu, did you guys read the translation for the previous jp event 'Playful Land'? I haven't seen you guys talk about it or mention it, so i'm curious to hear your thoughts and opinions on this event.

personally, i enjoyed most of the event ( sadly same could be said about the the rushed ending though ;-; ) But it's mind-blowing cuz the event is basically human trafficking! Turning people into dolls and selling them off so they can serve as tools?! hello?! This is basically falling into the Black Butler territory lol (But i heard rumours that Yana wasn't involved in this event and a few previous ones apparently?). But then we also had funny moments like Jade force-feeding Floyd is so funny!

Also, what do you guys think of the two new characters? Fellow and Gidel. I swear Gidel looks almost identical to cheka :'DD

Anon! You’ve mentioned Yana’s involvement briefly, but I’ll come back to this point later in this post. But still, I’ll start off by saying that it really does have very strong Yana vibes because of the themes of the event, I am very surprised they went that dark. One of the biggest takeaways for us is that TWST has a lobby of people that exists in-universe and is SO POWERFUL that they can not only continuously support their human trafficking chain AND kidnap not just some random kids, but also someone as famous and of high pedigree as the likes of Vil, Kalim, and Leona. The implication that there is nothing they can do to get Fellow’s bosses in trouble is truly chilling. I love it when TWST gets creepy and grim like that, even though I really wanted the boys to get donkied… please, at least give Ace some donkey ears…!

And yes, just like you said, it had this nice balance of uncanny/creepy and funny. A lot of unexpected punchlines, a lot of “wow, this is dark”, I really love this contrast and the event played very nicely with it.

I’ll also talk about the characters later in this post, but I’ll note that there were a lot of fun and unexpected interactions lol Speaking of interactions, I also loved that we got to spend more time with Fellow and Gidel than we did with Rollo. I don’t think this is necessarily an improvement because Rollo’s event had different vibes and story, and it made sense for him to stay “hidden”; but the fact that as all the boys from this event got “eliminated”, they had to wait with Fellow and got to bicker with him is priceless. I really loved it because not only we get to see more of these nasty brats insulting our poor foxman, we got to see more of our poor foxman and his loyal catboy in general. This is a good thing.

So yeah, to answer your question about Fellow and Gidel! We loved them much more than we anticipated.

Gidel does look somewhat similar to Cheka lol, but at the same time, both Fellow and he have such distinct and unique oldschool animation vibes that I really love. Their designs and sprite movements and expressions are amazing overall, looking at them was very enjoyable.

FELLOW’S ENTIRE BEING!!! HIS ATTITUDE!!! HIS FAKE-ASS FACE!!! I love that he is so unbelievably shady that the senpais got disappointed in the boys for trusting this guy lol and yet, still kind of got somewhat charmed by him. Fellow knows what he is doing and damn it feels good to have a character who fails miserably against our horrible NRC boys, but is also cunning enough to cause trouble. He flip-flops between being a pathetic adult who got beat up by a bunch of kids (+Lilia) and being someone who manages to outsmart the boys because they just aren’t used to his brand of “desperate and shady”. What a smart bimbo lol the fact that we never beat him, too…

I keep bringing up Rollo, but at this point we have two characters that hold a deep grudge against the magic users and the society in general, and I find it very interesting. Mostly because of how different they are… I won’t dive into this thought now because honestly, it’ll make this already long post even longer.

But damn, the characters themselves. Their interactions with each other, the implied closeness to each other, the fact that the two of them are a unit with such a deep bond that Fellow can pretty much read Gidel’s mind. I feel like there is so much for of them that we could learn….

So yeah, my only grievance is that we didn’t get enough of them and I miss them already, but I feel like we’ll get a vignette of them just as we did with Rollo, so maybe it’ll fill the Fellow-and-Gidel-shaped hole in my heart.

I also wanted to mention that their fighting style is interesting. As you might know, we don’t play the game, but still love it when they don’t cut out the fight parts, and this is exactly why: Fellow doesn’t really attack himself, he just casts Gidel who hammers away?? And then Fellow still takes all the damage himself. I think it’s pretty unique and fun.

Hmm, what else. The song is cute. It ain’t a Make a Wish, but I don’t know if it’s fair to compare the two because of how different they are.

Alright, moving on.

Anonymous asked:

Yana said on her twi that she and the team worked on the base scenario and rough story beats but nothing about the actual writing. A lot of the characters act odd in this event (Kalim lost three years worth of development, Vil became a slacker, and just about everyone lost any brain they had, also Jade actively tried to hurt Floyd for no reason) which seems to support this idea.

When it comes to Yana’s involvement, I might be mistaken, but as far as I could make out, this is pretty much the level of her involvement with the events (at least these days), isn’t it? I tried to look through her twitter, and here is what she said about this event (rough google translation):

Our company was in charge of character design, costume design, scenario, card art direction, background art, and OPED storyboards and art.

And here is what she said about Glorious Masquerade:

Character design; Scenario draft; SSR cards art (sketch and finish); Toboso was also in charge of directing all other card art; Costume and mask settings Background art settings; Our company is in charge of the opening and ending storyboards and art.

So, character design – check, costume design – check, scenario (draft) – check, card art direction, background art, OPED storyboard and art – check. The only thing that Yana’s team did for Glorious Masquerade that they didn’t do this year is that she didn’t draw the SSR cards.

I feel like she didn’t talk about Playful Land as much as she did about Glorious Masquerade, but it was just a feeling that I got, it isn’t an objective measurement of her involvement.

So yeah, Yana didn’t write those lines herself, but I don’t know if she does it for events at all. Whether we should consider things that didn’t come from her brain directly canon or not is also a whole different topic, and we are very opinionated when it comes to that (you might know that we don’t read any additional material that had no involvement from her at all).

Still, the event didn’t feel as off as I thought it would after reading your ask. I did try to see your point and was ready to see some OOC scenes and dialogues, but… overall it was good? And for some characters, even really fucking great?

I’ll go through the list of things that you’ve mentioned.

I am not sure what you mean when you talk about Jade actively trying to hurt Floyd for no reason, but I assume it’s the popcorn scene because I don’t remember any other occasion of him doing so. And even then, it doesn’t really feel like him trying to hurt Floyd? He was being a nasty sibling trying to bother Floyd, which is not only a very sibling thing to do, but also a very Jade thing to do; Jade’s entire motivation to go to the Playful Land was to enjoy the chaos of it all, so it makes sense that he was feeling extra naughty and playful. And Floyd’s reaction clearly indicates that this is just a “uhhhh you’re being annoying” situation, and he is very used to it. Am I missing some crucial scene in which Jade tried to hurt Floyd? Did he shove him off the ferries wheel while I wasn’t looking? I am genuinely confused.

I’ll say it about every boy you’ve mentioned in your ask, but still: I loved the tweels characterisation in the event. Especially Jade because we don’t get to see him having so much fun at other’s expense openly very often, and this is exactly Jade’s brand of fun: to enjoy watching people in uncomfortable situations: Floyd being force-fed, Vil and Floyd losing to Ortho, Vil struggling with cute merch… and all of it backfired greatly for Jade in Vil’s vignette, which is *chef’s kiss*

Overall, Jade was being nasty the entire time, and Floyd was very Floyd-like too, driven by his own fun only, eager to punch as many puppets as he could and ruining Fellow’s day as much as he could before going down. They had to put a bag over his head so he wouldn’t bite them anymore… peak Floyd behaviour…

I also don’t think Vil was necessarily being a slacker. This specific cast had to be a part of the event, and I think they did a good job at making it somewhat believable: everyone had their own reasons to go (knowing for a fact that Ortho is way too stubborn not to go and going to at least make sure he isn’t getting in trouble sounds like a Vil-like reason to go), plus Fellow’s unique magic played a big role in the boys being so uncharacteristically relaxed. Yeah, you still have to suspend some disbelief with some of the boys for the sake of this event’s premise working, but it’s pretty self-aware about that.

But also? I kind of very like it when Vil is not super uptight? And I really appreciate the fact that Vil had a bunch of silly moments + his entire interaction with the main trio of boys was very good. He is still the mature one, he is still one of the strongest ones, he is still a leader and he is still very caring for Ortho and the rest.

And Kalim, well… I kind of loved him the most in the event..? I feel like it highlighted him pretty nicely.

Let’s be super blunt here: Kalim didn’t have 3 years worth of development. He had some development during and after his and Jamil’s book, but it didn’t end up changing much about him. This isn’t a bad thing, this is still a part of his character’s trajectory, it’s just that you don’t change that trajectory radically after one event, even if it’s as drastic as overblot of someone who is very dear to him. Even though Kalim promised that he would punch Jamil for being “a bad guy”, he never ended up doing that; instead he asked the rest of the Scarabia boys to trust him and don’t treat Jamil as a traitor. One of Kalim’s most important character traits is that while he is very detached from the reality of regular people and has no idea about what they’re going through which leads to him being insensitive at times (something that he did a couple of times during the event btw, he really had no idea why Fellow got so insulted over his comments about money…), he has a huge heart and always wants to treat others with kindness. If you give the bad guy a chance, he might realise the error of his ways – this is like core value for Kalim. This is why he is such a good contrast to both Ortho and Ace, who are very willing to tear Fellow’s ass apart, and this is why it made perfect sense that he would be one of the stars of the event. He is also pretty stubborn despite being so good-natured, and this is always typical Kalim: you WILL be his friend, whether you like it or not. Kalim’s not a villain and he got transferred to NRC only because of Jamil, not because it fits his personality.

And if you’re talking about him skipping school, then… I don’t remember any Kalim development addressing this side of his? He doesn’t like studying, and this is a constant for him lol BUT!

What is interesting and what does feel like a development (or rather an expansion of his characters that we didn’t previously know of) is how despite his principles and the fact that he doesn’t want to get violent, he is willing to attack Fellow directly if it means protecting Ace and Ortho. I haven’t seen every single piece of Kalim lore (i.e. vignettes and other events with him), but it was very fun to see Kalim-the-older-brother and to realise that this is how he sees his kohais. This doesn’t mean that he is a great protector, he kind of screwed up at the end lol but the fact itself shows how big his heart is, and honestly, even though I love every single nasty guy from NRC, I think Kalim being so stubbornly and unapologetically good is his strongest point. And it doesn’t ruin anything about his character.

Once again, I am not sure what exactly you meant by Kalim losing years worth of development, but these are some of my thoughts. Once again, you are entitled to your own opinion. I am just sharing mine: I think this event had good character writing, and I didn’t even hate Leona all that much this time, which is a huge deal for me lol

Overall, this was a very good event. It ended kind of abruptly, but pretty much every event does that + some of the vignettes helped to add some of the info that felt like it was missing… which is exactly what also happened to Glorious Masquerade.

We had a lot of fun with it, it’s great. Really made us remember just how much we love these boys and their shenanigans.

#replies #stage in playful land #about characters

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nanomooselet · 8 months

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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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hogwarts-legacy-confessions · 24 days

Note

Hello! One of the more prominent fandom writers here.

I see this has already been addressed. I don’t come to flog a dead horse and I do not intend to be rude to you, the blog owner.

I want to offer some perspective from someone who has been impacted by this.

I am not offended that you’re unaware of every targeted statement submitted to this blog. I am not either. The issue lies in your apparent expectation to be told if a statement was too pointed. You have—as respectfully as I can say it—not cultivated an environment that appears welcoming for something as vulnerable as feelings.

When things have been posted about my work, I did not anticipate coming to you would make much difference. If anything, I assumed it would make it worse.

I would say the impact it’s had on me is inline with the recent posts, and the fact that there are other posts of this nature makes me wonder how many other larger creators are suffering in silence every time someone pokes at them on here.

Here’s the thing: those of us who’ve “just been around since the start” and “got lucky” have been through multiple waves of bullying. For ships, for our ages, for character ages, for characterization, for writing smut/tropes/dynamics, for not liking or portraying (insert character) as a (edgelord, golden retriever, himbo, et cetera).

Now, we can add to that:

- not replying to every comment on our works and art.

- Not performing enough exhaustive research for something we do in our spare time, free of charge—despite both the canon game and the books/films contradicting themselves constantly.

- Liking characters that we like.

- Not editing enough, as if that is not delegated to a separate career in the professional world.

- Generally, not doing /enough/ to have earned our place in the fandom.

I won’t include the criticisms that were specific to me. I’m aware this is anonymous and you have no reason to believe I am who I say, but I won’t risk stepping off anon and receiving hate atop the rest of that list.

I am just a person. This was an escape for me, and one that gave me a lot of purpose and fulfillment. All of which is gone now. This has completely wrecked my self confidence in writing.

These big, popular creators that are getting bashed are not celebrities. Be it roleplayers, artists, writers, mod creators, or edit makers—they’re just people who wanted community and creative outlet.

To the blog owner, I see you have said that you wonder if the posts were really about [those who assume it’s about them]. I think the nature of the space you’ve created begets paranoia. Even if the posts were not about me or anyone else, does it not warrant your concern if it hurts the fandom we share? I respect the need for a space where unpopular ships, headcanons, and the like can be posted without fear (which shouldn’t exist, this is the nature of fandom). I do not see the need to laugh namelessly at the accuracy of fanart, the kissing mod that people created, proper grammar, and incorrect geographical locations in fics to name a few recent ones.

I don’t believe in censorship. I also don’t believe in encouraging persecution.

I see you have addressed this, as I said. I do not expect you to delete your blog. I hope you have found community regardless of the vitriol here. If I can offer a suggestion going forward: I ask that you don’t allow hate on fanworks. If you can’t do that, then at least do not allow anonymous hate on other creators, even if they do not mention them by name. If people want to say it with their full chests, off anon, I would respect it much more. That would also remove your need to judge the validity of any claims.

If this is published—I want to say that if this is your first fandom (which I suspect is true for many of you) that this is not a game of ‘eat the rich’.

If you had been “early” and “got lucky” and if people said the things you have said about our works, would yours still be available?

Most every popular creator in this fandom only ever wanted to be friends with you, reader.

👀

#hogwarts legacy confessions #hogwarts legacy fandom

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zhongster · 2 months

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Nobody asked for this I’m so sorry

Here are some shamefully presented burping headcanons for one Bobby Nash

THIS IS KINK CONTENT, DNI IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT

CEO of tucking his chin into his chest when he has to burp

His cheeks tend to puff out too

Like his burps are giving so much old man y’know

Sometimes after he burps Athena will reach over and lightly pat his chest in like an odd congratulations 😭

Never fails to say “excuse me”

Even when he’s alone

He’s such a dad about it you guys you don’t understand

Like if Buck burps at the station he’ll give him a look until he excuses himself

So if he were to burp anywhere in Buck’s vicinity Buck would immediately scream something like “Bobby!” with an exaggerated gasp + pearl clutch combo

The day that Buck learned that Bobby is, in fact, capable of out-belching everyone at the 118 was a huge day for him

It happened on accident of course; Buck tried to make protein shakes for everyone forgetting that Bobby is incredibly lactose intolerant

He held it in for as long as possible but eventually he was so bloated he just had to take the L

Aside from the fact that he effectively poisoned his captain, he was delighted to learn that Bobby could absolutely body any of them in a hypothetical burping contest

Bobby also always burps into his fist

Like every time

He sometimes gets those burps that start out closed mouth and end up being bigger than he anticipated and it forces his mouth open

Athena laughs at him when this happens

Pretty prone to indigestion

He’s from Minnesota there’s no way he’s comfortably ingesting anything spicier than pepper

Lowkey loves when Athena rubs his belly but he’d never outright admit it

Even if he does stretch out like a cat when she lays her hand on it

Athena also definitely loves his belly so much (me too girl)

Sometimes she rubs it when it isn’t even upset and Bobby’s no fool he’s gonna lay back and enjoy it

Sometimes something gets him so bloated that all he can do is try to burp at the most opportune moments throughout the day because the burps are coming and there’s nothing he can do to stop them

He’s been known to burp in the engine/truck on the way to calls as well as hiding behind the ambulance with Hen at the actual call and trying to muffle them as much as possible in order to remain as professional as he can be

The team knows not to make fun of him during these particular days as he’s usually in pain or otherwise miserable which means he’s gonna be grumpy as hell

He’s almost certainly an acid reflux king but I don’t think he’s entirely aware of this

Athena definitely is aware of this and tries to modify what he eats when she can

He gets pretty embarrassed when he burps in front of anyone that isn’t Athena but he plays it off usually with just a “Oh gosh excuse me, not sure where that came from” accompanied by a hand to his chest

I think over time he gets more comfortable if he ends up having to burp in front of any of our people™

He still excuses himself but he doesn’t get quite as internally embarrassed

@moraygrotto posted this the other day and it immediately made me think of him

Sometimes he’ll take his work belt off and a huge unexpected belch will come straight outta his chest, often to the surprise of himself and anyone else (usually Athena) who’s around

Since he doesn’t drink alcohol he ends up drinking a lot of club sodas and such when he goes out with the group which sometimes means he’ll have to turn his head to the side and let out a few deep closed mouth burps into his fist

This usually ends up with some iteration of a “Woah there Cap that was pretty good but I bet I could do better!” from Buck

Wherein Bobby will reply with something along the lines of “That was not an invitation to start a contest Buck”

He already has a visible belly but when he’s particularly bloated it’s even more apparent

Their restrictive dress shirts don’t really do anything to hide it which Bobby’s usually a bit embarrassed by

Here’s a video reference for him >:)

#guys i’m so normal about him #i’ve been thinking about his burps every night before i go to sleep #almost like brainstorming #burping #eructophilia #belching #burp kink

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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 · 7 months

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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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