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itwillbethescarletwitch · 2 months ago

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What The Fire Withheld p2

Bob Reynolds x Fem!Witch!Reader, Thunderbolts* x Fem!Reader

Recovery isn’t cinematic.

It’s quiet. It’s the beep of monitors and the soft swish of antiseptic. It’s bruises that don’t bloom right away and nightmares that don’t let go.

I stay in the med bay for ten days. No missions. No suits. No magic.

Just me, stitched up and motionless.

But I’m never alone.

-Recovery Days

Bucky’s the one who checks my vitals before the nurses even get a chance. Always early. Always silent.

“Pain level?” he asks one morning, folding a blanket at the edge of the bed.

“Somewhere between getting hit by a bus and falling off the Empire State Building,” I rasp.

He nods. “So… Tuesday.”

His lips twitch. The closest thing I’ve seen to a smile on him yet.

Yelena brings me TikTok videos at night.

“They’re stupid,” she says, handing over her phone. “But they make your face less grumpy.”

She doesn’t say the word sister again, but every time she makes me laugh, she sits a little closer.

John installs a mini fridge beside my bed.

“For your snacks,” he mutters, almost embarrassed. “Figured you’d want your little kombucha or whatever.”

He stocked it with six bottles of root beer and a tray of lasagna. I say nothing. He changes the subject immediately.

Ava comes and goes.

She doesn’t say much. But she always leaves something behind — a book, a playlist, an old hoodie with the sleeves cut off. She lingers in doorways like she’s scared I’ll vanish if she walks away too fast.

And Bob?

Bob stays.

Every day. Every night.

He brings me herbal tea he somehow doesn’t burn. He adjusts the pillows without being asked. He sits beside my bed with a sketchbook in his lap, never drawing anything, just… being near.

Sometimes, he talks. Sometimes, he doesn’t. But his presence hums against my skin like quiet thunder.

The silence with him doesn’t hurt. It heals.

———

I’m cleared to walk after two weeks.

Bob walks with me.

We go to the rooftop garden Yelena built out of old S.H.I.E.L.D. scrap — vines wrapped around rusted trellises, tomato plants in ammo crates, lavender growing from an old helmet.

I lean heavily on the railing. My ribs still ache. I still can’t take a full breath.

Bob stands beside me, close but careful.

“It’s peaceful here,” he murmurs.

“Don’t get used to it. I’ll start lighting things on fire again soon.”

His mouth curves, slow and shy. “I missed your fire.”

We don’t talk about what happened. Not yet. But when his fingers brush mine, we don’t pull away.

———

Thunderbolts Tower – 03:11 AM

The med bay is empty. The halls are dark. Everyone’s asleep.

Except me.

I’m in the training bay, standing in front of the reinforced wall. It looms like a challenge. I’m wrapped in tight compression bandages under my tank top. My left side still aches if I breathe too deep.

But I can move.

I need to move.

My powers haven’t fully returned. My muscles scream after ten minutes. But I have to try.

I blast the wall.

The light flickers. Pain slices through my chest. I fall to one knee. My hands tremble.

Not enough.

I try again.

⸻

I don’t hear them until it’s too late.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Bob’s voice. Sharp. Panicked.

The lights slam on.

He’s not alone. Bucky’s with him. Ava steps into the room a second later, already fuming. Yelena looks like she just woke up — and is ready to kill me.

“I was training,” I snap. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Bob says, voice low and shaking. “You’re not fine.”

I look down. Red stains my side. The bandages split.

“I needed to see if I still had it,” I breathe. “If I can still fight.”

“And what, kill yourself doing it?” John walks in last, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “You should be resting. Healing.”

“I am healed!”

“No,” Bucky says. “You’re not. Not enough. And you damn well know it.”

Ava steps forward. “You think we went through all that just to lose you now?” Ava snaps. “You think he—” she points at Bob, voice rising, “hasn’t been blaming himself every second for not protecting you?”

Everyone’s talking at once.

I can’t hear my own thoughts.

It’s pressing against my ribs — this heat, this panic, this swelling, hopeless thing inside me that I’ve been pushing down since the explosion—

“STOP!”

My voice cracks the air like a whip.

Everyone freezes.

I’m breathing hard, dizzy, chest burning.

“You don’t get it,” I hiss. “None of you do.”

They stay silent.

“You keep saying I need rest. You keep telling me I’m not ready.” I take a step forward. My knees almost buckle. “But what if I never am?”

No one moves.

My fingers twitch. No glow. No warmth. Just trembling flesh.

“I can’t conjure a spark. I can’t fly. I can barely walk down the hall without someone holding my arm like I’m made of glass!”

“Y/N…” Bob’s voice is soft, broken.

I keep going.

“Do you know how that feels?” My voice breaks. “To be the weapon — the one who’s supposed to save everyone — and then suddenly you’re just a broken girl bleeding on the floor while everyone else has to pick up the pieces?”

They don’t speak.

“I’m useless,” I spit. “A liability. A goddamn burden.”

“You’re not—” Yelena starts.

“I am. Every time I breathe wrong someone’s there with a wheelchair or a painkiller or a look like I’m going to drop dead. And maybe I will. Because maybe this is it. Maybe this is all I get now.”

The silence crushes.

And then I break.

“I don’t know who I am without my powers,” I whisper. “And I don’t think I want to find out.”

I drop to the floor — not all at once, but slow, like my body just gives up. My knees hit the mat. My hands tremble against the floor.

I’m crying.

Hot, quiet, unstoppable tears.

I haven’t cried like this since the first time my magic spiraled out of control as a kid. When I burned a hole through a stone wall just to stop feeling so small.

Now I just feel… empty.

Footsteps.

Bob kneels beside me first. Doesn’t say a word. Just lowers himself slowly until he’s level with me.

He doesn’t try to fix it.

He doesn’t tell me I’m wrong.

He just reaches out and holds my hand in both of his — gently, reverently — like it’s the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

His voice is a whisper, a prayer:

“You’re not a burden. You’re you. That’s what matters.”

Yelena drops down next. She leans against my shoulder. Quiet. Close.

Ava walks over and sinks to her knees too, rubbing her thumb over my back like she’s grounding me.

Even John just stands there, jaw tight, arms crossed — like he wants to say something but knows better than to ruin this moment.

Bucky watches. And then, after a long beat, nods once and steps out. Not to leave — just to give space. To let me breathe.

Bob’s hand squeezes mine.

“I’ll wait,” he says softly. “For your magic. For your strength. For you. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

-6:00AM

The sunlight barely filters through the heavy curtains.

It’s the soft kind of morning — muffled, golden, too still to be real. My chest hurts when I breathe, but not from pain this time.

From the weight of last night.

The breakdown. The blood. The way I collapsed in front of all of them — in front of him.

My room smells like lavender and old pages. Someone must’ve put a tea cup on my nightstand. It’s cold now. There’s a folded blanket at the edge of the bed. My boots have been moved from the door.

I’m not sure if I feel safe, or exposed.

Then I hear it.

A chair creaking. Quiet movement.

I sit up slowly — and there he is.

Bob Reynolds, seated in the armchair across from me. Same clothes from last night. Hair a mess. Hands folded together so tightly I wonder if his knuckles might crack.

He’s been there a while.

Watching. Waiting.

“…Hey,” I say, voice hoarse.

“Hey.”

His tone is rough. Low. Not cold — but not light, either.

He stands.

“I need to talk to you,” he says. “Now. No running. No excuses. Please.”

I blink. “Okay.”

He walks toward the bed but stops a few feet away, like he’s afraid getting too close might break something.

“I meant what I said,” he begins. “Last night. Every word.”

I try to keep still, but my fingers twitch against the sheets.

“You’re not a burden,” he says. “Not to me. Not to anyone. You don’t need your powers to be worth something.”

I look away. My throat burns.

He keeps going.

“You think you’re broken because you can’t do magic. But you know what I saw?”

He takes another step closer.

“I saw someone crawl out of fire and keep going. I saw someone care more about the rest of us than her own body. I saw someone brave enough to tell the truth — even when it hurt.”

Another step.

“You’re not broken. You’re human. And I—”

His voice breaks.

He stops. Breathes in. Breathes out.

“—I care about you more than I’ve ever had the guts to say.”

Silence.

Not awkward. Not heavy.

Just full. Like the seconds themselves are holding their breath.

I look at him.

Really look.

And it hits me — how long he’s been holding this in. How hard it is for someone like him to admit something like this. How terrified he looks.

He laughs under his breath, soft and self-conscious.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… I had to tell you. Because if I didn’t…”

He trails off. Shrugs helplessly.

I whisper, “I don’t want you to stop.”

He freezes.

“You said you’d wait,” I say, eyes meeting his. “For me. For my powers. For… everything.”

“I will.”

“I don’t want you to wait anymore.”

The room stills.

He steps closer.

Close enough that I can feel his warmth — not Sentry heat, not celestial glow — just him. Just Bob.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

The question lands between us like thunder in a quiet field.

And I whisper: “Yes.”

⸻

He leans in — slow, reverent — like this is the part he was never sure he deserved. Like he’s asking with every inch of his soul.

And when our lips meet—

—magic sparks.

Tiny threads of violet energy flicker from my fingertips — weightless, harmless, like lightning catching the morning sun. They crackle gently across his jaw, dance in his hair, kiss his cheek.

He doesn’t pull away.

He smiles against my mouth, lips brushing mine.

“I think you’re getting your fire back,” he murmurs.

I let out a breathless laugh, barely holding it together.

“Not all of it,” I whisper.

He kisses me again.

“No,” he says softly. “Just the parts that matter.”

“You won’t tell anyone, right?”

Bob is sitting at the edge of the bed, still flushed from the kiss. One arm slung over his knee. His hand, warm and callused, rests over mine.

His eyes soften. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

I nod once. “I just… I need to be sure. That it’s real. Not a glitch.”

He watches me for a moment. Then nods too. “Okay. Just us.”

– 6:42 AM

The others are suiting up for a quick mission in Belgium — artifact containment or something. I’m still benched, technically. Bucky gave me the look this morning. John grunted “rest up” with his usual stubborn gruffness. Ava gave me an awkward fist bump that might’ve been affection.

Yelena just smirked and threatened to bring me back a cursed snow globe.

I’m still in a hoodie. My limp is almost gone.

Bob is the last to leave.

He leans in at the doorframe, face shadowed by the gray morning light. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Stay off your feet.”

I grin. “No promises.”

He tilts his head. “Y/N—”

Then he steps forward, leans down, and kisses me. Not like before — not hesitant. Confident. Warm. Real.

It lasts only a moment, but the taste of him lingers.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmurs.

“Go before the others get suspicious.”

He smiles. “I don’t care if they know.”

“But I do,” I whisper. “For now.”

Bob nods. Squeezes my hand once. And then he’s gone.

LATER – THUNDERBOLTS TOWER – 11:17 AM

The moment the tower goes quiet, I go to the training bay.

The place where it all fell apart.

I roll my sleeves up. Sit on the padded floor. My hand hovers in front of me, palm open, fingers curled. Waiting.

Come on, I think. Just a spark.

Nothing.

I clench my jaw, try again.

Still nothing.

I slam my palm down against the mat. “Dammit—”

It wasn’t real. That kiss. That spark. Just another glitch. A last gasp of a dying power.

I feel the heat rise behind my eyes, throat burning. My chest aches. My ribs — still bruised, maybe cracked — creak with the pressure of my own anger.

Then I hear Bob’s voice in my head.

“You’re not broken. You’re human.”

I suck in a breath.

Okay.

One more try.

But this time — I let it all go. The fear. The pressure. The rage.

I close my eyes.

No expectations.

No pain.

Just… breath.

One beat.

Two.

Three—

Then, warmth.

A tiny flicker behind my sternum. Like someone lighting a match in my chest. My fingers tingle. My eyes snap open — and there it is.

A violet wisp.

Dancing like smoke over my palm.

I gasp.

It vanishes.

But it was real.

My lips part. My chest swells.

I try again.

More focused this time. Slow. Deliberate.

And the light returns.

Flickering. Glowing.

Alive.

LATER – 5:44 PM

I’ve been in the med bay for hours.

No one’s here to stop me.

I’m careful. Focused. I direct my magic — the little I can call — toward my ribs. The worst of the damage. The spell is slow. The pain is unreal. I nearly scream twice.

My nose bleeds by hour two.

But when I check the monitor… my ribs have realigned. The fractures are sealing.

By hour five — I can stand without pain.

My wrists, still weak, begin to flex again.

I cry once. Quietly. It’s not the pain.

It’s the relief.

⸻

THAT NIGHT – 6:51 PM

I’m in the kitchen when the jet door hisses open upstairs.

I’m covered in flour and bits of chopped garlic. Bob’s hoodie hangs off one shoulder. There’s a pan sizzling on the stove.

Yelena’s voice echoes down the hall: “Is that butter?!”

“Dinner?” John’s gruff voice follows. “Wait, who—”

Then footsteps thunder down the stairs.

Yelena rounds the corner first, goggles still on, bruised but alive. She skids to a stop, sees me, and her mouth falls open.

Ava’s right behind her, and she drops her duffel bag mid-step.

Bucky trails in next. Freezes.

“Hi,” I say, casually flipping the pan. “You guys like lemon butter chicken, right?”

Yelena is the first to speak.

“You’re standing,” she says again, breath catching. Her sharp voice is softer now, edged with disbelief.

“Yeah,” I reply, turning from the stove to face them all. “I healed. A little. Enough.”

My hand lifts, fingers trailing upward — and with it, the air shimmers violet. Light curls upward in a faint spiral, delicate and alive.

Ava stares at it like it’s some rare animal, silent but fascinated. Bob hasn’t moved from the doorway, his eyes glued to me like he doesn’t trust what he’s seeing. His lips part, but he doesn’t say a word.

John’s already halfway to the island counter. “Wait, you said lemon butter chicken?” he asks.

He says it like a man returning from war.

He grabs a plate and starts loading food before anyone responds.

And then the shouting begins.

“Are you out of your mind?” Bucky’s voice slices through the room. Sharp. Low. Terrified.

He’s standing behind a chair, fingers gripping the top like he’s trying not to punch something. Or someone.

“You were supposed to be resting,” he growls. “That’s what the medics said. What I said.”

I stare at him, stunned. “I’m fine, Bucky—”

“No, you’re not!” His voice cracks. “You pushed yourself. Again. And for what? To make dinner? To prove you’re still strong?”

I blink at him. “That’s not fair.”

He laughs—dry and bitter. “Yeah? Well, neither is almost losing you.”

“Bucky,” Bob warns quietly, but Bucky ignores him.

“You could’ve torn something open again. You could’ve made it worse. You think you’re hiding it, but your hands are shaking.”

They are.

And I hate that he’s right.

“I just—” I start, but Ava cuts in.

“I think it’s amazing,” she says suddenly. All heads turn. She’s leaning against the counter, arms folded, expression unreadable but firm. “You came back from the brink. You did something impossible. You should be proud.”

“Pride gets you killed,” Bucky snaps.

“I didn’t do it for pride,” I say, louder this time. “I did it because I had to.Because I couldn’t just lie there and rot while you were all out risking your lives again.”

Yelena steps closer, eyes narrowed. “And what if you hadn’t been ready?”

“I was.”

“No, you were lucky,” Bucky bites.

Yelena’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t say anything else. Bob shifts his weight behind them all, still silent. Watching.

John, still chewing, finally looks up. “Okay, okay,” he says with a fork in his mouth. “So she nearly blew a lung out healing herself. But this is reallygood chicken. Just sayin’.”

Everyone pauses.

I blink.

Bob exhales a stunned laugh. Ava snorts.

John points at me with his fork. “You do the food. You do the magic. You’re like the team’s Swiss Army knife. And if you’re standing, breathing, and cooking lemon chicken, I say that’s a win.”

“John,” Bucky says sharply, but Bob finally speaks.

“She could’ve died, man.”

John nods. “Yeah. And if she hadn’t tried, she might’ve stayed broken.”

The table falls quiet.

I take a slow breath, pressing my hand to the counter to keep myself grounded. The magic inside me hums like a tuning fork — subtle but steady.

Ava moves to my side and quietly hands me a glass of water. Her hand lingers on my shoulder for a moment. “You don’t have to defend yourself. Let them feel how they feel.”

I nod.

Then I turn to Bucky. “You’re scared.”

He looks like I slapped him.

“Don’t,” he mutters.

“You are. And I get it. But I’m scared too. I didn’t do this to spite you.”

“No, you did it to protect us,” he snaps. “Which is exactly the kind of thing Nat used to do.”

The room goes quiet.

Yelena’s head jerks up. Her breath hitches.

“Don’t bring her into this,” she says, voice thin and sharp.

“I didn’t mean—” Bucky starts.

“She’s not your ghost to invoke.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I said don’t.”

Yelena turns away, arms tight across her chest.

“I’m hopeless,” I yell suddenly, and it slams the room into silence.

Everyone turns.

“I’m supposed to be the most powerful witch in the multiverse. That’s what they say, right? ‘Unstoppable.’ ‘Legendary.’ But for weeks, I’ve barely been able to breathe without help. I can’t conjure fire. I can’t shield. I can’t even float a damn spoon without thinking I’m going to black out.”

My voice is shaking.

“I sit in the med bay like a ghost of who I used to be. And every time someone walks past me, I see it in their face — pity. Fear. Grief. Like I’m already gone.”

I look at Bucky.

“At least when I tried, I felt like me again. For a second. I wasn’t the broken girl in bed. I was someone with purpose.”

Tears sting my eyes.

“Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

Bucky looks like he’s been sucker punched.

Bob takes a step toward me, but I hold up a hand — violet sparks trailing.

“I’m not done.”

I turn to the others.

“I’m not asking you to cheer. Or forgive me. I’m just asking you to let me try. Because if I can’t be who I was… then I need to find out who I am now.”

No one says anything for a long moment.

Then Bob finally speaks.

“She’s right.”

He walks toward me, slow and steady.

“She fought for something that mattered. Even if it hurt. And yeah, I hated it. I still do. But I also watched her burn through pain to come back to us.”

He stands beside me now.

“And if that’s not strength, I don’t know what is.”

John raises a fork again. “Preach. Also, this is probably your best lemon butter yet.”

Everyone groans at once.

Even Bucky lets out a huff of disbelief and sits down, rubbing his face.

Yelena steps toward me. Her eyes are glassy but sharp.

“Next time you want to almost die, warn me first.”

I nod. “Deal.”

Next Morning, 8:03 AM — Kitchen, Thunderbolts Tower

The sun cuts long, golden lines across the worn tile of the kitchen floor. Ava’s already in the corner with a protein bar in one hand and her phone in the other, watching something on TikTok with her earbuds in. Bucky leans against the counter, arms crossed, unreadable as always. John is halfway through a tub of leftover lemon butter chicken, fork dangling from his mouth.

Yelena throws a slice of burnt toast at him. “You’re disgusting.”

He shrugs. “It’s protein. And delicious.”

I shuffle in, stiff from sleep and stiff from pain. My ribs ache — not as much as before, but enough. My hands twitch as I pour coffee into a chipped mug. I keep one hand slightly curled, feeling the faintest crackle of something when my fingers brush the ceramic handle.

Bob’s already sitting at the far end of the table. Quiet. Watching me when he thinks I’m not looking. His hair’s a little messy. His hoodie looks soft. When our eyes meet, he doesn’t look away — not fast enough.

“Morning,” he says, softly. The word barely travels.

“Morning,” I reply, more breath than voice.

Bucky’s still watching me, eyes narrowing. Yelena says nothing, but her smile is tight.

Val stomps in moments later in full tactical gear and heels. “Good news, degenerates. You’re all going back to school.”

“What?” John grunts through a mouthful of chicken.

“You’ve all been reassigned to a field readiness evaluation. Mandatory. Today.”

She tosses a stack of folders on the table. Each one has our names.

“Even me?” I ask.

She doesn’t blink. “Especially you.”

⸻

11:14 AM — Government Training Grounds, Upstate

The air smells like metal and dust. Pine needles crack under boots. Above us, clouds threaten but don’t deliver. The facility is sprawling — an obstacle course designed for fear, for speed, for survival. Cameras are already stationed at every angle.

The DOD liaison steps out of a control tower. He’s all pressed uniform, emotionless delivery.

“This is not a punishment,” he lies. “We just need to ensure every one of you is fully operational before redeployment.”

Ava stretches her neck and pulls her hood up. Yelena rolls her shoulders. Bucky mutters something about how this is a waste of time.

I stay quiet. My fingers twitch again.

Bob walks past me and gently touches my arm. Just for a second. “You okay?”

I nod.

“You sure?”

No. “Yeah.”

⸻

12:37 PM — Phase One Begins

Each of us is sent into different sections of the course, then rotated. Stealth, endurance, combat, containment, extraction.

Ava clears her section without a word, phasing through a collapsing wall with a bored look on her face. Bucky punches a drone so hard it short-circuits in midair. John flirts with the field medic while pretending not to try.

Bob is… steady. Focused. Strong but gentle.

Yelena’s a shadow. Her blades flash in the light once. Twice. She doesn’t miss a step.

Me? I hesitate.

I can move. Fight. Think. But my magic—it’s there and not there. Sparks in my fingertips. Then vanishes. I make it through two sections on muscle memory and pain tolerance alone. But it’s not enough. I know it. They know it.

The official writes something down on a clipboard.

⸻

3:19 PM — Phase Four: Simulated Hostage Crisis

We’re back in formation when it happens.

There’s a fake structure. Looks like a warehouse. The DOD rep orders Bob to take the lead with John and Bucky. Ava’s already phased inside. Yelena hangs back with me. I’m not assigned this part.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asks, quietly.

“I’m fine.”

She doesn’t believe me. That makes two of us.

Then the building explodes.

⸻

3:26 PM — Impact

It’s not real.

It’s a simulation.

We all know that.

But Bob was in there. And when the smoke clears, his comm is silent.

I feel it before I understand it. Like a thunderclap in my chest. Like the first scream I had no breath for when I thought I was dying. My ears ring. My body goes cold.

He’s not answering.

No one’s moving fast enough.

I scream his name — “BOB!”

And everything inside me breaks.

The world slows.

I feel my ribcage tighten, my lungs expand, every cell in my body flooding with magic. Real magic. Not the flickers I’ve been hiding.

I raise my arms and it tears out of me.

A shockwave of pure violet light explodes from my chest — fire without flame, electricity without heat. The ground splits. The sky bends. Static crackles up my arms, lifting me into the air by a few inches. My hair whips around my face. My eyes sting.

And then I throw both hands toward the wreckage.

Steel bends. Beams twist. Concrete crumbles in reverse — until I carve a path through it.

I see him.

Bob.

Unconscious. Covered in smoke and dust. But alive.

I drop to my knees beside him, shaking.

“Bob—” My voice cracks. “Bob, wake up—please.”

His eyes flutter. He coughs. And when he looks at me, the first thing he says is:

“You’re glowing.”

⸻

5:04 PM — Debriefing Tent

The air is tense. Silent. Everyone saw what happened.

The DOD official adjusts his clipboard and looks at me like I’m a bomb he didn’t authorize.

“She’s not cleared,” he says flatly. “Not yet. But… she will be.”

Yelena lets out a long, low whistle. “You think?”

Ava gives me a look. Proud. But worried.

John shrugs, digging into a new tray of lemon chicken. “That was sick,” he mutters. “Just sayin’.”

Bucky stands across the tent, arms folded.

“You ever do that again,” he says, voice quiet but firm, “and don’t tell someone you’re not okay, I’m dragging you off the field myself.”

I can’t respond. I’m still vibrating from the power.

Bob sits beside me, his hand ghosting near mine but not touching. He doesn’t have to. I feel him there — solid, safe, and looking at me like I’m something he can’t believe came back to him.

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jaegeraether · 17 days ago

Text

The Runaway - Chapter 12 (Alexia Putellas x original character slow-burn)

Jae's Masterlist

(Disclaimer: I do not speak Spanish, or Catalan, so go easy!)

Prepare yourself for a yearning Alexia…

CHAPTER 12

ALEXIA

The moment the final whistle blew, Alexia didn’t celebrate. Not really.

She smiled. She nodded. She hugged teammates. But her mind wasn’t on Chelsea. It wasn’t even on the 8-0 aggregate scoreline. It was already racing ahead - past the win, past the cameras, past the tunnel.

To her.

The minute they stepped off the pitch and back into the changing room, Alexia didn’t sit. She didn’t even undo her boots. She went straight for her phone, still tucked inside her duffle.

Emirates Stadium. Arsenal vs Real Madrid.

It didn’t take long to find. She didn’t even have to search - her feed was flooded with it.

Arsenal advance to the semi-finals.

Mariona’s magic goal in the first half, Baker’s brilliant brace in the second.

Player of the match: Delaney Baker.

She felt the emotion before she could name them. Relief, pride, something dangerously close to euphoria. Her thumb hovered over a highlight clip - Delaney striking the ball on the edge of the box, body cutting through the chaos like a blade. The net rippled. The crowd roared.

Alexia let out a breath.

God, she loved watching her play - and only now did she realise how tightly wound she’d been, not being able to watch it live. But then came the other feeling. The sharp one. The one that settled in her chest when she noticed the way Delaney limped toward the corner flag. Subtle, but there.

She knew that limp. She knew the pain behind it.

'Why are you still playing on that ankle, carinyo?'

She wanted to text her. Wanted to call. Wanted to be the first voice in her ear when she got back to the changing rooms. But she also knew the rush that came after a game like that. The media. The medicals. The high. So, she waited until she knew Delaney had some time to herself.

Alexia attempted to keep herself patient while she showered, washing her hair and changing into her Barca travel kit. While the last of the girls finished cleaning up, she stepped out to video call her.

God, she was pretty. Her face lit up with her successful night, her arm draped around Mariona casually like they hadn’t just advanced Arsenal to the semis between the two of them. Those deep blue eyes sparkled at her like she was exactly the person she’d hoping would call – and suddenly Alexia knew she wanted to be there, celebrating with her. Celebrating her.

Somehow, an hour later, Delaney was there.

Outside Stamford Bridge.

Alexia had barely muttered a word to Irene before she’d slipped outside. But it was beyond worth it. The moment she’d seen her, everything in her stilled.

Delaney was flushed, still glowing from the match, her hair damp and wavy. Her hoodie swallowed her frame, and her hands reached out for her absentmindenly, grabbing at Alexia’s hips, tugging her close.

The second Alexia had her arms around her, she didn’t want to let go.

Delaney fit against her like she was made for her. Like the slope of her neck had been carved for Alexia’s hands alone. And then that spontaneous kiss - God.

Desperate. Claiming. Not a hello. Not a goodbye. Something messier.

Alexia had intended on taking it slow, expecting nothing but a hug. To give her space. But Delaney had pulled her down to her level and kissed her like she’d never wanted anything more. And the taste of her - chapstick, mint, adrenaline - had nearly undone her.

She’d kissed back harder than she'd meant to. Pressed her against the car more possessively than she should have. She barely remembered hearing Mariona’s warning. She barely remembered anything except the feel of Delaney’s hand in her hair, the soft moan she made when Alexia had taken control, parting her mouth, the whisper of congratulations from between her lips.

She’d wanted to stay.

She’d never let anyone keep her before… then again, she’d never wanted to be kept before. But something about Delaney made her linger. As if leaving her felt unnatural. Like every cell in her body resisted watching her drive away.

Her phone buzzed before she found her voice.

She saw Delaney’s face fall ever so slightly – reflecting Alexia’s own.

Alexia didn’t have to check the name on her phone. She knew. Jenni. Three messages. Then four. Then five.

And Delaney saw.

Alexia had felt it - how her body tensed, how her gaze dropped to the screen and then flicked away just as quickly, her hands falling.

She wanted to explain. Say it was just how they were. That she'd never need to worry about Jenni in that way. That she hadn’t asked for the photos or the flirting or whatever the hell Jenni thought was funny in the moment.

But her words failed her. Why would she spoil the only moment they had?

Delaney changed and Alexia was so attuned to her that she’d felt it. She held her with one hand, answering Irene’s call with the other.

She’d put her back in the car. Clipped her seatbelt on just to be able to lean over her. Assessed her ankle... her wrapped, damaged ankle. She shouldn’t have been running on it, let alone playing.

Alexia had been as demanding as she could with someone who wasn’t hers. 'Don't go to America. Rest.'

Jenni was rough in competition, and against Delaney? She would be unapologetically brutal.

Alexia had kissed her again on the cheek. Soft, lingering, full of things she couldn’t say aloud. She’d murmured something against her cheek, but it felt more like a beg disguised as a command.

Text me. Please text me.

When Irene’s voice echoed from the doorway, she felt her body split in two – la Reina and Alexia. Captain and… whatever Delaney wanted her to be.

And now she sat alone on the back of the bus, hoodie pulled up, earphones in, phone in her lap.

A text from Jenni lit up the screen. Again.

She didn’t open it.

She opened Delaney’s chat instead. Typed. Realised texting so quickly might be too overwhelming. Deleted everything she’d written. Waited.

Patience was not her strong suit in any sense. Not in football. Not outside of football. Especially not when it was Delaney. Especially when she felt uncomfortable about her seeing Jenni’s messages.

She leant her head back against the bus chair and sighed. Even if they talked, what could she say?

That she didn’t want Jenni? That she hadn’t for years? That even though she was unapologetically an instigator, that she was still one of her best friends? That she was notorious pot-stirrer, and to ignore her? That she couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her mouth, the trust in her eyes, the way she’d whispered “go, please..” with her fingers still tangled in her hoodie?

That she didn’t want to go back to Barcelona? Not tonight. Not without her.

The closer they became, the more the feelings sharpened. Intense, consuming, impossible to ignore. And with every lingering look, every shared breath, Alexia felt herself falling deeper into something that was beginning to genuinely scare her. Not because it wasn’t real, but because it was. Because every step closer meant more to lose. And somewhere inside her, a fear of her own had begun to bloom - that if Delaney ever pulled away, if she ever ran - Alexia wouldn’t just miss her. She’d break.

And worst of all, she could already feel it happening - that helpless falling feeling… mixed with that quiet, irreversible tug toward something she might not survive the loss of.

Alexia let her head slide across and smack against the cold window, screen dimming in her hand. She felt Irene’s eyes on her but couldn’t care in that moment.

She hadn’t even said goodbye properly.

She felt herself begin to spiral down that trap – the insecurity. It’s why Alexia usually stayed so closed off with people. Flings were easy. One night stands even more so. She’d always been good at keeping things casual. At holding people at just the right distance. But Delaney kept stepping past the lines she hadn’t even realised she’d drawn.

Delaney made her rethink things she’d never questioned - what it meant to be seen, to be trusted, to be chosen not for her accomplishments as a footballer, but for who she was at her core.

Because she was different from everyone else. She was everything.

She felt her phone buzzing and should have been embarrassed by just how quickly she grabbed for it.

Jenni: ¿Me estás ignorando o qué? Are you ignoring me or what?

Giving a sigh, she flicked out of the message and felt another buzz.

Delaney: Text me when you land please, Ale.

Alexia blinked at the screen. Her pulse slowed. She hadn’t run. Not yet. Pride aside, she answered immediately.

Alexia: You will be awake?

She needed rest.

Delaney: I’ll make sure I am…

She was still trying. The trust she put in Alexia never went unnoticed or unappreciated. She hearted her message, at which point the bus arrived at the airport.

The players filtered out, Alexia near the back with Irene keeping close to her. They passed through security and into the departure lounge.

She found a seat and looked at the time – suddenly against the idea of Delaney staying awake to message her when she landed.

Alexia: Is late, carinyo. You should be sleeping.

Jenni messaged again, but she swiped away, instead focussing on the three flashing dots as the Australian typed.

Delaney: My eyes keep closing... I think I’ll sleep while you fly.

Alexia: You should sleep now.

Delaney: Trying to get rid of me?

Alexia would have rolled her eyes, but she knew her message was rooted in insecurity. How that woman was insecure, she’d never know.

Alexia: Never.

Delaney started typing again, even slower. Alexia pictured her drifting off in Mariona’s car. Would she be home by now?

Delaney: Are you at the airport?

Alexia: Sí, waiting for the plane.

Delaney: What song are you listening to?

Alexia smiled at the fact that she knew her so well. She screenshotted it and sent it to her.

Delaney calling…

Her heart skipped a beat. She was surrounded by her team, but she didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Hola, Ale…” She murmured sleepily. Her voice could melt butter. “I’m assuming you’re sitting with your team, being anti-social with your hoody and earphones…”

Alexia scoffed and saw Irene raise an eyebrow.

“…you don’t have to talk, I know you’re surrounded by people.”

Alexia: I miss your voice.

“You only had it an hour ago...” She chuckled, a white noise starting in the background.

Alexia: You are home?

“Sí.. I’m just jumping into the shower.” Her voice sounded a little more echoey – and Alexia loved that she was comfortable enough to shower on the phone to her.

Alexia: I join?

There was the sound of her shower door opening, and then another chuckle as she read the message.

“I think you’d be too distracting.”

Alexia: I will help washing

She pictured Delaney biting her lip. “Mmn... I’d like that about now. I can’t even be bothered to lift my arms.”

Alexia: You have a rough game..

It was more than rough. It wasn’t like their game – it was much more pressure and difficulty. Real Madrid punished them whenever they could, and playing half the game on an injured ankle would have been physically draining.

“So did you-”

Alexia raised her phone to her mouth as if recording a voice note and unmuted herself. “-don’t do that.”

She saw a few players turn to her.

Delaney made a surprised sound that was like honey right in Alexia’s ears. She couldn’t help but imagine the Australian riding her as she sat against a bedhead – her pretty sounds directly in her ear. She crossed her legs.

“I… yeah..” she admitted huskily. “I had a hard game.”

Good girl.

Alexia: Better.

“Ale? I.. uh.. can we talk? I mean – about something..”

Alexia didn’t pretend to not know what she was talking about. Any form of insecurity, she’d address. Would it better or worse if she said her name?

Alexia: Jenni?

“Yeah..”

Alexia: We know each other long time. She is troubles stirrer but she is my close friend.

The sound of the shower stopped and the glass door opening as she stepped out. “She’s important to you..”

Alexia: Yes, very.

“I don’t want to be that person who is uncomfortable with your relationships. I know we’ve spoken about it briefly – I just don’t know specifically where you two stand, and seeing all of the messages just threw me.. I’m sorry.”

Alexia: No sorry, carinyo. I should have tell you. Jenni is my friend close to me. Nothing else.

“I’m sorry..”

Alexia: No sorry.. you ask me anything.

She heard her take a breath and wished they were having the conversation in person. “You said you used to date.. but are there still feelings there?”

Alexia: Not from me.

“From her..”

Alexia: I think so from her.. actions?

“She’s not exactly subtle about it, Ale.”

She knew it must have sounded awful, the way she was explaining the situation. But truly, she didn’t care for her like she did Delaney.

Alexia: I know but I can not change her..

Please don’t let my friendship with Jenni ruin this relationship, she thought. Please.

“I know, and I wouldn’t expect you to. I wouldn’t want to change anything between you two. Or any relationships in your life for that matter. I just.. I just needed to know where you stood in your relationship with her.”

Alexia: She is not you.

“Oh, Ale. I’m sorry for this.. sickness.. in me. I am clearly a lot of work.”

It was so hard for her to trust. That relationship was so tenuous with her.

Alexia: You are not work. You are worth everything.

Alexia: Any times you unsure, you ask me sisplau. Okay?

“Okay, Ale. I have one more question… you don’t want us to play against each other? Why..?”

Alexia: Jenni és protective of me

“I feel like that’s the understatement of the year.” She heard her sigh. “But I haven’t done anything to her..”

Alexia: You are important to me, carinyo.

“So she’s aggressive towards everyone important to you? You know what – don’t answer that. I just.. yeah. You’ve answered my questions. It's not your job to reassure me. You said she’s just a friend to you and I’ll trust you.. I’m working on that. Thank you for being so patient with me.”

Surely she knew by now - if it mattered to Delaney, it mattered to her. She would take any job on if it was of any benefit to the Australian. Standing, Alexia wandered off to a quiet corner to take herself off mute.

“Danny..”

“Ale.. god, your voice.” She breathed with what sounded like something in her mouth.

Her longing sent a shiver down her spine. “You are in bed?”

“Not just yet...”

“I can see you?” It came out polite – but she couldn’t stop the need seeping into her voice. She was so used to being commanding and getting what she wanted. However, Delaney had a way of turning her into someone softer, quieter. Someone who ended up in a state of begging instead of demanding – which was new but surprisingly not unpleasant.

“You are alone?”

It was the same question as she’d asked on New Years Eve, her voice warier now than it was then. To reassure her, she turned on her own camera.

“I promise.”

After a hesitant pause, the camera turned on. Delaney stepped back from where she’d propped it up near her bathroom mirror, wearing nothing but a towel. She gave an apologetic smile as she spat out the last of her toothpaste and put her toothbrush back. Alexia could only watch, her eyes too attuned to every single little thing she did as she worked through her nightly skin care routine, her fingers massaging cream into her face. Alexia couldn’t remember the last time she felt this way about anyone – perhaps because she never had.

“You’re staring, Ale.”

She was leant against the sink now, looking down at the camera is such a way that she’d wished she were there in person to witness.

“Of course I yam…” She watched Delaney bite her lip. “No saps com em costa deixar de mirar-te… argh - que preciosa ets, carinyo.” You don’t know how hard it is to stop looking at you...argh - how beautiful you are, sweetheart.

“I don’t quite have the vocabulary for that yet…” she admitted with an expression that said she understood the meaning anyways.

‘Yet’ almost felt like a promise. One she wanted to cling to with both hands.

“You’re alone?” She asked again.

Alexia tore her eyes away for long enough to double-check around her, even though she was in a corner. She wasn’t about to let history repeat itself.

“Sí, Dan-”

She turned back just in time to see the towel drop. Delaney was naked. Drying herself with her towel. She didn’t seem to be doing it for the sake of being naked, but rather including Alexia in her night time routine.

A boarding announcement was made for her team and Alexia ignored it, her attention right here she wanted it to be.

The Australian grabbed the phone, walking into her bedroom and setting it up on her bedside table, just like the night prior. She slipped under her sheet and turned to Alexia, her hand sliding under her pillow.

“Was that the boarding announcement?”

Alexia nodded, jaw flexing. She looked up to see Irene patiently studying her. She gestured to the players boarding.

“You should go, Ale…I don’t want to make you late again.”

“My choice.”

She rolled her eyes. “You do realise how stubborn you are?”

The Spaniard tilted her head defiantly. “You like me how I yam.”

Instead of some clever quip, she held her eyes for a few seconds and answered honestly. “I really, really do.”

She suppressed a shiver. “I text you when I land.”

“No... call me when you get home instead. I want to wake up to you again.”

#alexia putellas #womens football #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #woso x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona #barcelona femeni

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starkidmunson · 1 year ago

Text

glitter & crimson (it has a title y'all!)

Nervous excitement has Steve out of his bed 25 minutes before his alarm goes off to wake him. It’s not unusual on game days. He gathers ingredients in the kitchen until he hears Robin’s alarm, and then he starts making both their breakfast smoothies.

She fumbles down the hallway a few moments later with her eyes still closed, takes the cup from him, and sits in the middle of their living room floor.

“Pilates today? Or did you get a workout in at the show last night?” She asks after a few sips, and Steve joins her near their mats.

“It’s a tradition, can’t go changing shit now.” He teases, laughing as she throws her head back with a tired groan. Then she’s hauling herself to her bedroom to grab a hoodie.

They exercise on the balcony, like always, but keep it light. Steve tries to get plenty of stretching in on game days, making sure he’s loose and limber before he hits the ice. After about 30 minutes, Robin’s teeth are chattering in the cool morning air, so he calls it, and they head back inside. He gathers his gear while Robin showers, and then they make their way to United.

Steve heads to the locker room to gear up, manages to finish a whole bottle of water before he hits the rink. He takes a few slow laps around the rink as the rest of the team starts to roll in, runs through a few drills on his own before team practice starts.

They keep things minimal on game days; sprints and passes, shots on goal. Steve does a final lap backwards around the rink, before clearing off to the locker room to finish putting on his uniform while the other team takes the ice for their own practice.

As he refills his water bottle, he gets whacked in the shin with the body of a hockey stick. He watches it happen, feels an echo of the impact on his shin guard, before turning to raise an eyebrow at Max.

“Hello to you, too.” He says through a little smile. She rolls her eyes, but smiles back at him.

“They’re here.” She says, in an ominous tone, despite her smile. “You guys seemed to hit it off last night, I’m glad you didn’t scare him away with your weirdness.”

“I’m not weird, you guys are weird.” He mumbles back, kicking the stick from her hand but catching it before it hits the ground. “Last night was fun. I just hope he doesn’t hate the game as much as I think he’s going to.”

“Awfully concerned about him having a good time.” She leans in closer to him to tease, and while he feels his ears get hot, he shoves the hockey stick back into her arms and walks back toward his locker. “Dustin is working in the AV booth tonight, so be prepared for a lot of Eddie on the big screen.”

“You overestimate how much attention I pay to the overhead.” He replies, rolling his eyes and taking a big gulp of water.

He hadn’t exactly considered the consequences of Eddie actually coming to the game. He was bound to draw a lot of attention, but what would that turn into? Steve had, smartly, elected to stay off the internet after he’d gotten home last night, and he hadn’t bothered to check social media before coming in. He was sure there were pictures and videos of him at the show floating around, insinuating things beyond what they actually meant. He was just as sure that there was at least one person who had taken to their feeds to report that Eddie and Steve had hung out after the show; never mind the fact that everyone else was there. Never mind the fact that they weren’t alone.

Except they had spent most of the night alone. Other than a few interruptions, their time at Fatpour had mostly consisted of Eddie and Steve sitting at a high-top table close to the bar, munching on snacks and talking about everything and nothing and whatever crossed their minds. Eddie insisted he was going to make a playlist for Steve, and Steve offered to teach Eddie how to ice skate. And it felt… nice. It had been a while since Steve had that with anyone.

Max just moves on, reminding Steve of which stretches he needs to do now that he’s in his gear, and the coach and captain both give speeches in the locker room, before everyone moves out to the rink. They take the ice as the announcer reads off their name, and Steve taps his stick with the right wing who stakes up next to him.

He glances around, chewing on his mouth guard absently. A part of him knows that Robin and Eddie and whoever else from CC made the trip to the game are in one of the boxes around the upper level of the area, but he hadn’t asked which one when he had briefly texted with Eddie this morning, and now it was too late. But, he figures it’s probably for the best. Not knowing where to look keeps him from running the risk of sparking more speculation about nothing.

______

Even having heeded Steve’s warning to wear layers to the game, Eddie is freezing. He’s wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt under a hoodie under a leather jacket, but he’s still cold. And Robin is bouncing around the box suite in a t-shirt and ripped jeans, looking perfectly comfortable and Eddie doesn’t get it. He zips his leather jacket all the way up and sinks into his seat, bobbing his head along to the music echoing through the arena.

“You’re going to be cold when we’re leaving if you don’t take something off.” Robin chastises, and Eddie just rolls his eyes. Jeff, Freak and Lucas are chatting, sitting in the seats just outside of the box. Inside the box, Gareth looks just as cold as Eddie, chatting with Nancy and Will on a sofa.

Paige returns a few minutes later with a bag of merchandise, courtesy of a voucher from the team, and drops it on Gareth’s lap. “Hoodie for you,” She declares, pulling out a black hoodie with the Blackhawks logo and throwing it into Gareth’s face. “Hoodie for you,” She adds, tossing a red one in Eddie’s direction. She pulls two more thinner zip ups out of the bag and drops them on Jeff and Freak’s heads. When she comes back in, she locks eyes with Eddie, who pauses as he unzips his leather jacket.

“What?” He asks, cautiously, and she grins.

“Got something else for you,” She says, and he’s instantly concerned.

“You’re freaking me out.” Eddie points out as he slips the hoodie he’d worn over his head and replaces it with the fleece-lined red hoodie with “Blackhawks” written across the back shoulders. Robin claps and jumps up and down beside him, concerning him further.

“They put one aside!?” She asks, and Paige nods, before tossing the rest of the bag to Eddie.

When he pulls out the contents, he can’t help but let out a little laugh. “You guys asked them to give me a Harrington jersey?” He raises an eyebrow at Robin, before pulling it over his head. It fits a little loose over the hoodie, but looks similar to how he’d seen other people wear theirs.

“Steve doesn’t know, but I asked. Figured you might like it.” She says, grinning as he turns a light shade of pink he fully intends to blame on the cold.

When the team introductions start, Robin drags Eddie out into the seats just outside the box, so they have a better view. While it’s colder out there, Eddie’s warmer in the new tops, and finds he doesn’t mind it as much.

Robin and the members of the Party in the box break into cheers when Steve skates out onto the ice, and Eddie can’t help the little smile that crosses his face as he watches Steve interact with his team.

The puck drops and Steve manages to slip it away from the Kraken’s center, gliding down the ice effortlessly before passing it off. It’s a tiny thing, trying to pay attention to the puck, so Eddie finds himself just tracking Steve as he zips and twists around. After a few minutes, Steve skates back to the Blackhawks box and jumps in as another player hits the ice.

“What happened? Is he hurt?” Eddie’s confused as he looks at Robin, who gives him a soft smile.

“He’s fine. They only play for so long, before they switch out to keep them from getting tired.”

He tries to pay attention to what’s happening then, with Steve off the ice, but finds himself watching the other sit along the bench. He bangs his stick against the wall a few times, shouting things Eddie can’t hear. When he gets up to go back into the game, he pats the player he’s replacing on the back before hitting the ice.

The next chance he gets the puck, he takes a shot toward the goalie, who stops the puck between his legs. Steve keeps skating, zipping around and getting back into the action. He gets the puck back, but is quickly checked by two Krakens who send him into the boards hard. Eddie grimaces, and a penalty is called on both Krakens for charging.

Steve scores a goal in the second period, and Eddie joins the Party in cheering along. He spots himself on the big screen and grabs Robin, pulling her into frame as she jumps up and down.

The celebrations die down a little, and Robin scooches closer to him. “I can have them knock it off, if you don’t want to be up there. Dustin’s in the booth right now.” She offers, and he shrugs.

“I don’t mind. I kind of expected it, after the TikTok blew up.” He shrugs, tracking Steve back around the ice.

Blackhawks end up winning the game, 5-2, and while Steve doesn’t score again, he assists in each of the following goals. Each time, he has a different celebration with whoever he set up for the goal, and it’s sweet to watch Steve goof off, to hear his friends' excitement as he succeeds. Walking back out of the booth, Eddie feels like his voice is more raw from screaming at the hockey game than it was from last night’s concert.

_____________

“You shouldn’t skip the ice bath, Steve, you took a hard hit into that wall.” Max is lecturing as they move through the arena to where she says everyone is waiting.

“I’m fine, I’ve taken worse hits and I stretched plenty. My shoulder just dug into the pad wrong. I’ll have a bruise, but it’s fine.” He insists, holding the door open for her then following her into the box where chaos immediately erupts.

Mike and Lucas are bouncing around, gushing about how great he played. Steve laughs, squeezing Lucas’ shoulder and ruffling Mike’s hair, before his eyes land on the band. They’re all wearing fresh Blackhawks gear, and Steve can’t help but grin.

“Oh man, I’m so glad you guys were able to come! Did you have a good time?” He asks, moving closer to them.

“Dude, I fucking love hockey. I haven’t been to a game in forever, this was sick. And you were killing it out there. I think I like hockey even more knowing someone who is playing.” Freak says, and Gareth nods along.

“Hockey is the only sport I’d ever really been interested in, so this was fun! Great game.”

“I have never had an interest in hockey before, but it was still cool to learn about.” Jeff admits, and then Steve turns to Eddie. His hands are tucked up inside the sleeves of the jersey, nestled in the front pocket of the hoodie beneath, but he grins.

“I concede, it was a lot more fun than I anticipated. I think it helps that you were awesome out there.”

Steve turns a soft shade of pink, shaking his head before nodding back toward the door out of the box. “Want to grab dinner with us? I’m starving.”

______________

They’re in some bar Steve texted the directions to but Eddie can’t remember the name, when he catches Steve staring at him from his spot between Dustin and Lucas. Eddie raises an eyebrow and waves a little, which seems to snap Steve out of it. He blushes and waves back, before covering his face with his hands. Eddie snorts, before getting up and moving so he’s sitting across from Steve.

“You weren’t mad that I put you up on the big screen, right? I think the team actually put it up on socials at some point, so I hope you didn’t mind.” Dustin rambles at Eddie as soon as he sits, but he’s quick to ease the kid’s concerns.

“It was fun. Don’t worry about it, kid. Really.” He says, watches Dustin visibly relax, but then Robin carts him and Lucas away, giving Steve and Eddie space and tossing a wink in Eddie’s direction. Eddie finds himself growing to appreciate her more and more. “I really did have a good time tonight. Cross my heart.” Eddie says, before drawing an “x” over his heart with his fingers.

Steve laughs, and opens his mouth to say something before he seems to reconsider. He thinks for a moment, before leaning over the table. “Are you wearing my jersey?”

Eddie pauses for a moment, looks down and laughs. He’d forgotten he hadn’t taken it off, and Robin had said that Steve didn’t know about it. “I mean, it’s technically not yours. Just has your name and number on it.”

Steve squints his eyes before he leans back and takes a sip of his beer. Eddie seizes the opportunity to be chaotic, then, decides to take the leap. “I mean, I totally could be wearing your jersey, if you wanted me to. But you’re going to have to take me out of this one first.”

It’s worth it, if for no other reason than Steve starts choking on his drink, coughing loudly and drawing everyone’s attention. He composes himself quickly, but his face is still bright red, and Eddie grins.

“You’re a menace.” Steve accuses, voice hoarse and thick, and Eddie shrugs.

“What are you going to do about it?” He challenges.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I'm going to try reblogging with a tag list this week because it's LONG and I have no idea how else to try to make it work without hitting a character limit. Thank you to everyone who is still reading! I've got so many ideas for this bouncing around in my head, I can't wait to flesh them out and I hope you continue to enjoy!

#steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie au #steddie fic #steddie hockey au #hockey player!steve harrington #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #hockey player!steve #starkidmunson writes #glitter & crimson #stranger things fanfiction

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cloverrwritess · 2 months ago

Text

Title: Suspicious | part 2

Ian Hecox x Fem!Padilla! Reader

Request: Yes | No

you are now in part two of the fem!padilla! series

note: I am using both she/they for Courtney so it does interchange.

part one part three part four

MASTERLIST

I arrived back home and decided to change my outfit for a more comfortable yet casual outfit. I added just a bit of makeup to cover up days of staying up with the writers in making new sketches for the game channel.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror for the last time before getting my keys and going to my car to drive to Ian’s place.

________

I rang his doorbell and waited for him to open his door. He greeted me once he unlocked his door and put his arm around my shoulder leading me to his kitchen. There on the dinner table was ingredients we were probably making for our dinner.

“I knew you would want to cook so I decided we should cook our dinner together” He smiled shyly, while rubbing the back of his neck.

I grinned at him “You know me so well, so pasta for dinner?”

We started cutting onions and garlic together for our sauce and talking about funny stuff that happened in our childhood.

While I was boiling the gluten pasta, I saw from my peripheral vision that he kept taking small glances at me with a small smile. “What are you smiling for Hecox?” I finally looked at him letting him know I caught him.

“You caught me, you look really pretty right now that’s all” He said shyly.

“Pretty while boiling pasta? That’s a new compliment I’ve received”

Silence surrounded us. I guess I made it awkward after what I said.

“I mean it by the way, you look really pretty right now” Now I feel his presence beside me, I looked up and we made intense eye contact. His brunet side swept hair, bright blue eyes reminded me of the ocean, and glasses frame looked so good on him.

I felt my cheeks heat up from his words and turned away to hide my embarrassment. “Not bad yourself mister”

________

I plated our dinner while Ian got wine to pair with our pasta. We sat down and basically scarfed down the food after cooking.

Ian took a sip from his wine and cleared his throat. He took a deep breath and finally said his words “I need to take this off my chest, I know I’m not the most romantic man in the world, You know I have a hard time talking about my feelings but I like you, these feelings have been with me for so long but I had to keep it by myself knowing Anthony would be mad at me for liking his little sister”

I choked on my pasta and he stood up getting some water for me to drink. I coughed while Ian kept saying he’s sorry.

“I wasn’t expecting that, To be honest, I’ve had a crush on you since we were in our early 20’s, I just wasn’t expecting you to say that after what we have been through you know” I stared into his eyes and continued “I like you too, if you would like, we can take it slow” I grabbed his hands and squeezed it.

He smiled while rubbing my back “Let’s take it slow”

________

It’s been a month since Ian confessed his love to me. We went on multiple dates but also kept it professional in the smosh headquarters. Everytime we talk surrounded by others, I could feel eyes on us.

The video finally aired so I decided to read the comments during my break time.

________

WHAT WOULD [READER] DO?

526,235 views 2 hours ago.

Smosh Pit ✔️ 8.75M subscribers

Comments 246

___

user5638: the way Ian looks at [reader] omg

user9721: I knew he would win

-> user3748: [shipname] ❗️❗️

user0385: do NOT let Anthony see this

lmao

-> user2628: bro code 101

user1234: I’m new to watching Smosh but he likes her fr

________

I heard a knock on my door and saw Courtney’s head peek in. “Heyyyy so I have a question to ask” She took a seat in front of my desk and put her hands on her lap “Sure, what is it?”

“Is there anything going on with you and Ian? I just noticed a shift that’s all” They put their hands up “I’m not the only that noticed, everyone does well except Trevor”

“Nothing is going on I promise you, We just have been hanging out outside of work, I feel like it was needed for the both of us” They gave me a side eye before she changed the topic.

Great, now everyone suspects us.

#smosh fanfiction #smosh fic #ian hecox x reader #smosh x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

60 notes · View notes

hockeyluvrr · 3 months ago

Text

means I care || sd50

series masterlist main masterlist

summary: You and Sean have always walked the line between friendship and something more. Years of late-night calls, almost-confessions, and missed chances blur the boundaries, until one too many goodbyes pushes everything to the edge. But love doesn’t always scream—it lingers in the silence, in the mess, in the moments that hurt the most. And maybe, just maybe, it’s finally time to stop running.

warnings: angst, miscommunication, pining, friends to lovers, denial

author’s note: love this man and he needs more love fr, get on the durzi train people!!

word count: 1,868

The first time you meet Sean Durzi, you’re sixteen, and he’s got the kind of grin that makes people trust him too easily. He’s easygoing, funny, the kind of guy who makes everything feel a little lighter. You, on the other hand, have always been a little too guarded, a little too careful about who you let in.

You become friends because you don’t have a choice—your best friend starts dating his, and suddenly, you’re stuck in the same circles. It takes him about a week to break you down, to get you laughing at his dumb jokes and calling him when you can’t sleep. By the time he’s drafted, he knows things about you no one else does.

But Sean? He’s never been just a friend. Not really.

And that’s the problem.

You tell yourself that you’re imagining it—the way his hand lingers on your waist a second too long, the way his texts always come late at night, when his guard is down. He’s flirty with everyone; that’s just who he is. It doesn’t mean anything.

Except, sometimes, it feels like it does.

Like the night before he leaves for his first NHL camp. You’re lying on the hood of his car, parked at some quiet overlook outside the city. The air is warm, thick with the end of summer, and the stars scatter across the sky like someone spilled them carelessly. You don’t want to talk about tomorrow, about what it means for him to leave.

But Sean does.

“You think this changes things?” he asks, voice quieter than usual.

You don’t look at him. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates, and for a second, you think he’s going to say it—that thing neither of you ever say. But then he just sighs, reaching for your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His fingers brush yours, barely touching.

“Never mind,” he mutters.

And you let it go, because that’s what you do.

———

Sean leaves the next morning. You don’t go to the airport. He doesn’t ask you to.

Instead, he texts you from the plane.

Durzi: You’re not gonna say goodbye?

You: You hate goodbyes.

Durzi: Doesn’t mean I didn’t want one.

You stare at the message for too long, fingers hovering over the keyboard, trying to find the right words. But there aren’t any. There never are with him.

So you don’t reply.

Days pass. Then weeks. Sean gets busier. You pretend you do too. The texts come less often, but they don’t stop. He sends you stupid memes, voice notes when he’s exhausted, videos from team dinners where he’s always laughing, always surrounded by people.

You wonder if he ever feels alone.

Then, one night, he calls. It’s almost 2 a.m., and you know you should let it go to voicemail. But you don’t.

“You’re still up,” he says instead of hello. His voice is rough, tired.

You close your eyes. “So are you.”

Sean exhales, long and slow. “Yeah.” A pause. “I miss you.”

Your throat tightens. He’s never said that before.

“Don’t,” you whisper.

But he just laughs, and it’s the kind that sounds like it might break apart at the edges. “You think if I don’t say it, it won’t be true?”

You don’t answer.

Neither does he.

But neither of you hang up, either.

———

Sean comes home in the off-season, and it’s like nothing’s changed.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You see him at a party first—one of those big summer reunions where half the people there are from high school, clinging to nostalgia like it’s the only thing keeping them afloat. Sean walks in like he owns the place, like he hasn’t been gone for months, and suddenly, everyone gravitates toward him. He’s laughing, hugging people, catching up.

And then his eyes find yours.

It’s only for a second, but it’s enough.

You turn away first.

Later, when most people have left and the air is thick with the smell of spilled beer and sweat, he finds you on the back porch.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You don’t look up from your drink. “No, I’m not.”

Sean scoffs. “Come on.”

You clench your jaw. Because yeah, maybe you are. Maybe it’s easier to avoid him than to deal with the fact that every time he comes back, it gets harder to pretend you don’t feel like something inside you is breaking.

“You miss me?” he asks, and it’s teasing, but there’s something under it. Something raw.

You finally glance at him, and God, he looks good. Tired, maybe, but good. The kind of good that makes your chest ache.

“No,” you lie.

Sean exhales, shaking his head, and then he does something stupid. He steps closer. Just enough that you can smell his cologne, that his knee brushes yours where you’re sitting on the porch railing.

“You still do that thing where you push people away when they get too close,” he murmurs.

You grip your drink a little tighter. “And you still do that thing where you make everything a joke.”

His jaw flexes. “That what you think this is?”

You don’t answer.

Because you both know it isn’t.

———

A week later, you see him with someone else.

You’re out with friends at a bar, trying to pretend you don’t care that Sean isn’t here, that you haven’t spoken since that night on the porch. But then he walks in, and he’s not alone.

She’s pretty. Blonde. The kind of effortless that you’ll never be. And she’s got her hand wrapped around his arm like she belongs there.

Your stomach twists. You hate that it does.

“Did you know he was bringing someone?” you ask, voice too casual.

Your friend glances at you, eyes flicking between you and Sean. “I don’t think it’s serious.”

You nod like that makes it better.

Sean sees you almost immediately. His smile falters just slightly, just enough that you notice. Then he nods, acknowledging you, and turns back to her.

You down the rest of your drink.

An hour later, you’re outside, breathing in the night air, trying to steady yourself. You tell yourself it doesn’t hurt, that it shouldn’t.

Then the door swings open.

“You leaving?” Sean’s voice. Familiar. Too familiar.

You don’t turn around. “Yeah.”

A pause. “You okay?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Sean exhales sharply. “Come on.”

You spin then, eyes flashing. “Come on, what?”

He looks at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. Like he knows exactly why you’re upset, but he needs you to say it.

You won’t.

Instead, you fold your arms, nodding toward the bar. “She’s cute.”

Sean’s expression flickers. “It’s not—”

“I don’t care,” you cut in. It’s too sharp, too quick.

His jaw tightens. “Right.”

For a second, neither of you move. The city hums around you—cars passing, laughter spilling from inside the bar, the distant sound of music.

Then Sean shakes his head, like he’s finally done with whatever this thing is between you. “You know what?” His voice is quiet, but there’s something frayed in it. “Forget it.”

And just like that, he walks back inside.

You don’t stop him.

Even though you want to.

———

You don’t talk for days after that night.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. But every time you think about texting him, about calling, you remember the way he looked at you before he walked back inside. Like he was finally giving up.

Maybe that’s for the best.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself until it’s past midnight and your phone buzzes.

Durzi: You up?

You stare at the message, heart pounding. You should ignore it. You should be stronger than this.

Instead, you reply.

You: Yeah.

A few seconds pass. Then—

Durzi: Come outside.

You hesitate, but only for a moment. Then you grab a hoodie and slip out the door.

He’s leaning against his car, hands shoved into his pockets. The streetlights cast shadows across his face, making him look softer, more uncertain than usual.

You stop a few feet away. “What are you doing here?”

Sean lets out a slow breath. “I don’t know.”

You cross your arms, suddenly cold. “That girl—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, cutting you off. “She never did.”

You hate how much that makes your chest ache. “Then why did you—”

“I was trying to move on,” he admits, and his voice is raw in a way you’ve never heard before. “Because you sure as hell aren’t gonna let me love you.”

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

Your throat tightens. “Sean—”

“No, I get it,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m the idiot who keeps waiting for you to admit that you—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

He turns like he’s going to leave, and something inside you snaps.

“Wait.”

Sean freezes.

You swallow hard. Your pulse is racing, your hands are shaking, but for the first time, you don’t let yourself run.

“I do,” you whisper. “I do love you.”

Sean exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time. Slowly, he turns back to you.

And then he’s stepping forward, closing the space between you, reaching for you like he’s done a thousand times before. Only this time, you don’t pull away.

This time, you let him.

Sean doesn’t kiss you.

Not right away.

He just looks at you, searching, like he’s waiting for you to take it back. Like he can’t believe you actually said it.

Your hands are shaking, so you clench them into fists. “Say something.”

Sean swallows. “You love me.”

It’s not a question, but he says it like one anyway, like he needs to hear it again to be sure.

You nod, throat tight. “Yeah.”

His jaw clenches, and for a second, you think you’ve messed everything up. That he’s going to tell you it’s too late, that he’s done waiting.

But then he exhales, and it’s shaky, like he’s been holding everything in for too long. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Your heart stutters. “Sean—”

He shakes his head. “No, because do you know what it’s like to be in love with someone who keeps pretending it doesn’t mean anything?” His voice isn’t angry, just tired. “Because that’s what this has been. You saying it doesn’t matter. You pretending I’m just your friend. You pushing me away every time it got too real.”

Guilt twists in your stomach. He’s right. You’ve spent years pretending this wasn’t what it was, convincing yourself that keeping him at a distance was safer.

“I was scared,” you admit.

Sean lets out a quiet laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “Yeah. I know.”

You reach for him then, fingers curling around his wrist. “I don’t want to be anymore.”

He stares at you for a long moment. Then he sighs, his forehead dropping against yours. “You’re gonna have to prove that.”

You nod, closing your eyes. “I know.”

And when he kisses you, you don’t try and run like usual.

You don’t push him away.

You let yourself have this.

Finally.

74 notes · View notes

usoinked · 5 months ago

Note

Hey sis uhhhh can I get a Drew McIntyre fanfic and make it real nasty… and oooo can I get a Damian request where he whimpering for me to be his Dom and he my Sub…. I want it nastier than coleslaw

🖤In His Black Mustang🖤 (Drew McIntyre X Black Reader)

CW: 18+ MDNI, Multiple Orgasms, Car Sex, Swallowing, Protective p in v (this time😝), Overstimulation, Choking

Word Count: 5.6k+

Drew McIntyre had always been a pillar in WWE. The Scottish Warrior feared nothing and no one. But lately, everything felt like it was starting to unfold…and not in a good way. The phone call to join the Busted Open Holiday Party podcast with Bubba Ray, Mark Henry, and a couple of other guys wasn’t something he was excited about. He reluctantly accepted, but the frustration was building up—losing to Punk at Bad Blood, the memories of the Bloodline attacks, the fact he hadn’t held a championship since 2020, and the loss of two family members had all been eating at him.

But what really gnawed at him? The silence. After Bad Blood, no one reached out—except for you. You, of all people. When he saw your name pop up on his phone, he couldn’t believe it. It had been more than 15 years since your high school graduation. Back then, you were just a classmate, someone he’d talk to now and then when there was a project or when you grabbed a quick lunch together. You weren’t close, but you were the only one to check on him during his “vacation” time after the chaos and he didn’t expect it, but he wasn’t upset either.

What did get under his skin, though, was the aftermath of the podcast. Some fans got it—he could feel that—but there were always a few who had smart comments. “Unprofessional,” they’d say. “He ain’t the only one with family to worry about.” Drew wasn’t about to scroll through that nonsense, because he didn’t care. Social media wasn’t really his thing. He posted his workout videos, occasionally trolled a little, but other than that, he wasn’t gonna let some strangers online drag his mental health down further than it already was. Drew McIntyre was gonna do whatever Drew McIntyre wanted to do. That’s how he’d had always been.

After a couple of days trying to clear his head, Drew decided he needed a change of pace. And with that pace came his 2017 Ford Mustang GT—a sleek, black beast with a roaring V8 engine that had always helped him clear his mind or cool down when things got too heavy. The classic American muscle car, with its aggressive stance and powerful presence, fit Drew’s own no-nonsense persona. But tonight, rather than drive around aimlessly, he decided to stop at a diner. As he drove, the car gleamed under the low afternoon light, Scottish tag decor on the rearview mirror catching the light as he pulled into the parking lot. He stepped out, the familiar thud of his boots hitting the asphalt, his black leather jacket swinging with his movements. His hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, strands of dark brown curling at the edges. He wore a simple black shirt, jeans, and sturdy black boots—just enough to blend in without trying too hard.

The diner had that old-school charm—small, with faded vinyl booths and a jukebox in the corner playing classic blues. The kind of place that felt like it’d been around forever, serving greasy comfort food and making you feel like you could just forget about the world for a while.

You’d already snagged a booth by the time he

arrived, staring out the window when you heard the door swing open. The soft jingle of the bell above it broke the quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Drew’s presence was unmistakable. A few seconds passed, then the sound of boots clicking against the floor grew louder as he made his way over.

When you finally looked up, his eyes met yours, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. A pause. Then, without missing a beat, he slid into the booth across from you before taking a second, running a hand through his hair before settling back into the booth.

“Didn’t expect you’d be the one to check in on me,” Drew muttered, his thick Scottish accent wrapping around the words like it always had, though now it had a softer edge. He gave you a small, surprised smile, the corners of his lips turning up just slightly. “Of all the folks from back then, thought maybe I’d hear from someone else.”

You blinked, shocked for a second, before a grin tugged at your lips. “Wait—you—you actually remember me?” You laughed, adjusting your glasses and crossing your arms over your chest. “Who else was gon’ check in on you? Ain’t nobody else care like that. Besides, we were acquaintances at the very least, Drew. We ain’t talked in years, but that don’t mean nothin’.” You leaned back, tapping your fingers against the table, giving him that look like he knew exactly what you meant.

He let out a short chuckle, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time in a while, his shoulders seemed to ease. “I do remember you.” His voice softened as he leaned back into the booth, the familiar weight of his words settling between you two. “But you’re right. Aren’t many people I’d expect to reach out.”

Drew’s eyes softened, as his shoulders relaxed a bit. “Well…then again maybe I haven’t made it easy to reach out.” He shook his head, his hands folding on the table in front of him. “Everything’s just… been too much.”

You nodded, picking up your fork and taking a bite of your pumpkin pie getting it down before speaking. “You always do that shit, though,” you said, grinning like you knew him inside and out. “Act like you gotta carry the world on your shoulders by yourself. But it ain’t gotta be like that all the time. You have to let people in, Drew. Ain’t nobody expect you to do all that by yourself.”

Drew sighed, leaning back in the booth, his dark eyes glancing at you. “Aye, I know. But sometimes it’s hard, y’know? The pressure. The decisions. The people who expect you to be something you don’t even feel anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I get it. But you can’t run all that, either. You can walk out of that podcast, that’s cool, but running from everything else? That’s gon’ catch up with you.”

He paused, looking down at the table for a moment, before nodding. “Right. Guess you’re right about that.” His voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. “Aye, I’ll think about it, might be over it by morning.” He glanced up at you, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You always did have a way of putting things straight to me though…I appreciate that a lot y’know.”

You shrugged, cutting into your fried chicken. “I’m just sayin’, don’t wait ‘til it’s too late. Ain’t no shame in letting people check in on you, Drew.”

You chimed before the waitress came over to take both your orders.

The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile, approached the booth after a few minutes, pad and pen in hand. Drew looked up from the menu, giving him a nod.

“Y’alright to order, sir?” the waitress asked, his Southern drawl thick but warm.

Drew glanced down at the menu towards the drinks. then back at the waitress. "Aye, I'll take an iced tea. Sweet, if you've got it."

The waitress nodded and scribbled it down.

"Iced tea, sweet. Alright and were you ready for the food, or you need another minute?"

Drew’s gaze shifted to the menu one last time, his brows furrowing slightly as he considered his options. He was in the South for the upcoming Atlanta show, and he figured it was the perfect opportunity to indulge in something comforting. After a brief pause, he leaned back in the booth and looked the waiter dead in the eye.

“Ain’t no better time for some good Southern cooking,” Drew said, his Scottish accent rolling smoothly off his tongue. “I’ll have the fried chicken with collard greens, mashed potatoes and gravy, and some cornbread on the side. Can’t pass up on cornbread when you’re in the South.”

The waitress grinned, jotting down the order before giving a quick nod. “Coming right up, sir. You want that chicken extra crispy?”

Drew’s smile grew a little wider, his usual confidence shining through. “Aye, make it extra crispy. I need that crunch.”

The waitress grinned, jotting down the order before giving a quick nod. “Coming right up, sir. I’ll get that drink for ya, and the food’ll be out shortly.”

Drew gave her a quick nod as the waitress turned to walk away, heading toward the kitchen. The soft hum of the diner filled the air, and Drew leaned back in the booth, eyes wandering over the menu again as he waited.

A few minutes passed, and soon enough, the waitress was back with a tall glass of iced tea, condensation dripping down the sides.

“Here ya go, sir—sweet iced tea, just like you asked,” the waitress said, setting the glass down in front of Drew.

Drew took a long sip, the cold sweetness hitting him just right. “That’s the stuff,” he muttered under his breath, giving the waiter a thankful nod.

The waitress gave him a wink. “Be back with that meal in just a minute.”

Drew took another sip, relaxing into the booth, the weight of the last few days beginning to lift with the simple comfort of the drink. The moments of peace were few and far between lately, but this? This felt good.

It wasn’t long before the waiter returned, carrying a tray loaded with the food Drew had ordered. He set it down with a small flourish.

“Fried chicken, collard greens, mashed potatoes and gravy, and cornbread—extra crispy just like you wanted,” the waitress said with a smile.

Drew’s eyes immediately lit up. “Aye, that’s perfect,” he said, his voice gruff but appreciative as he took in the spread. The fried chicken looked golden brown and crispy, the collard greens steaming with a rich, tangy scent, the mashed potatoes piled high with savory gravy dripping over them, and the cornbread sitting warm and inviting on the side.

As you both ate, the conversation didn’t need to pick up again right away. The comfortable silence between you was enough, the soft clink of silverware and the low hum of the jukebox in the background creating a sense of peace. Drew’s shoulders, which had been tense all week, had begun to relax.

The food was gone quicker than either of you expected. Drew hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the warm, crispy chicken hit his stomach. The mashed potatoes were thick and creamy, soaking up the rich gravy, and the cornbread was just the right amount of sweet to balance everything else. You both sat back in the booth for a minute, catching your breath.

“You know,” Drew began, wiping his hands with a napkin and glancing at you, “this…this ain’t so bad. It’s been a while since I had a meal like this.”

You smirked, pushing your glasses up your nose as you leaned back. “Don’t act like you don’t know where the good food at. Shoulda hit me up sooner, you know.”

He chuckled, giving you a look. “Aye, maybe I should have.” His eyes softened for a second, his voice quieter now. “I appreciate you checkin’ in on me. Not a lot of folks would, not with everything I’ve been… I dunno, puttin’ out there.”

You shrugged, collecting the last of your silverware. “Don’t gotta be all ‘Scottish Warrior’ all the time, Drew. Sometimes you gotta let people be there for you, ya hear me?”

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Aye. I hear you.”

You both sat there for a second, letting the moment settle. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable—just comfortable, easy. Drew glanced out the window toward the parking lot, where his black Mustang sat under the dimming sky. You followed his gaze, then looked back at him.

“You drivin’ that beast home tonight, or are you planning on doing something a little less… dangerous?” you teased, a playful grin on your face.

Drew raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous, eh? She’s just a car.” His grin stretched a little wider, though. “But aye, I was thinkin’ about takin’ a drive. Get my head clear. We could continue this conversation in the car if you want.”

“Good call,” you replied, pushing yourself out of the booth. “Yeah I don’t got nothin’ planned so I’m down.”

He paused for a moment, then gave a slight nod, standing up too. “Aye, sure. I could use the company.”

You both walked out together, the cool night air hitting your skin as Drew led the way to his car. The Mustang, black and sleek, sat there with the kind of presence only a car like that could have. You admired the little touches—Scottish tags hanging from the rearview mirror, the low rumble of the engine when Drew unlocked it.

He slid into the driver’s seat, the leather creaking under his weight, and you hopped into the passenger side. As he started the engine, the deep growl of it vibrating through the car made you grin. He put it in gear, and the Mustang rolled smoothly out of the lot.

“So, where we headed?” you asked, glancing over at him as you buckled your seatbelt.

Drew’s hands gripped the wheel with that familiar intensity, but his voice was lighter than usual. “Don’t matter. Just… somewhere quiet. We can talk or just listen to the road.”

You nodded, settling back into the seat as the engine hummed beneath you. The city lights faded in the rearview mirror, and he had you in the passenger seat, it felt just like high school when he had his dark blue 2007 GT. He’d always be the one to drive whenever you both got lunch together, a little speedy, but he never put you in harms way intentionally.

The only sound by this point was the faint sound of the radio and the tires rolling across the gravel as Drew’s mustang made its way towards the road.

As his car sped down the semi-empty road, you didn’t even notice that both your hands were a little too close to one another. From what you could remember, Drew only really liked physical touch from a small amount of people, but you were included in that circle. You hadn’t seen him in years and now was the perfect time to reconnect because you didn’t know when you’d get to see him again especially since he was always on the road. You just got really lucky this time because this Monday’s show happened to be in Atlanta, which is where you stayed.

I've been out on that open road

You can be my full time, daddy, white and gold

Singing blues has been getting old

You can be my full time, baby

Hot or cold

The car’s engine hummed along the semi-empty road, the rhythmic sound mixing with the soft pulse of the music from the speakers. It was a warm night, Atlanta’s summer air creeping through the cracked window, carrying the scent of asphalt and distant city life. The road stretched out in front of you, quiet and almost serene—just the two of you, the hum of the tires, and the occasional flicker of streetlights as you passed.

Your fingers hovered just inches away from his, the space between you a whisper, but that whisper felt louder with every second. You glanced over at Drew, his focus on the road, his hand resting casually on the wheel. You knew he didn’t like a lot of physical touch, always a little distant with others, but with you… it was different. It always had been.

You didn’t give it much thought—just a quick flicker of a decision in your mind—and then you closed the distance. Your fingers brushed, then tangled with his, the simple act feeling like both an invitation and a challenge.

Don't break me down (don't break me down)

I've been travelin' too long (I've been travelin' too long)

I've been trying too hard (I've been trying too hard)

With one pretty song (with one pretty song)

To your surprise, Drew didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even seem startled. He just glanced at you with a look that was a mix of confusion and curiosity, as if he was still trying to figure out if this was some trick or if you’d really just done what you did.

“You know I don’t really like physical touch too much,” he said, his voice low, almost contemplative.

You grinned, cocking an eyebrow as you squeezed his hand lightly. “Only from certain people, me included,” you shot back, your voice dripping with that familiar, playful boldness.

His lips twitched into a smirk, his beard shifting with the movement, and for a second, you saw that flicker of something—something old, something familiar, maybe even a little teasing—pass through his eyes. His hand slowly curled around yours, pulling you in just a bit tighter. “I wanted to see if you still remembered,” he said, the words soft, but heavy.

The car continued down the road, the miles ticking by without much more conversation, but the air between you was charged, thick with unspoken things.

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast

I am alone at midnight

Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble, but I

I've got a war in my mind

So, I just ride

Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

He kept his eyes on the road, but you could feel him stealing glances at you, like he was trying to figure out exactly what you were doing here. You hadn’t seen Drew in years—years—but in a way, it felt like you hadn’t missed a beat. Like nothing had really changed.

“Yeah, I remember,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand once more before settling back in the seat, letting the silence hang for a bit. Your mind flickered to the past, to all the nights you’d spent together, to the way he used to laugh when you’d drag him out on some wild adventure, to how you’d always been able to read each other without words.

You could see the city lights off in the distance now, the skyline of Atlanta glowing faintly like a sea of stars. Drew didn’t say anything more, but his expression softened, a slight edge of nostalgia creeping in. The car turned off the main road, heading toward a more secluded path. The streets became quieter, narrower, until Drew slowed down, the engine quieting as he eased the car off onto a gravelly patch of land.

He parked the car with a small shift of the gear stick, and for a moment, everything went still. You could see the city sprawling beneath you, the lights of downtown Atlanta twinkling in the distance, and the horizon stretched out with that perfect mix of urban glow and natural darkness.

Drew didn’t move for a second, his hand still holding yours.

“This your secret spot?” you asked, voice low as you took in the view, knowing he was the type to find hidden gems like this, tucked away from the rest of the world.

His eyes didn’t leave the view either, but there was something in the quiet that seemed almost intimate, like he was letting you in on something. “Aye,” he said, finally looking at you. “I used to come here when I needed to think. Clear my head.” He paused, studying you closely, like he was deciding how much to share. “Used to come here with someone else, too.”

Your heart gave a small, unexpected skip at the mention of someone else. You glanced at him, searching his face for any sign of what that “someone else” meant. He didn’t elaborate, though. Just kept that same unreadable look, like he wasn’t sure how much you needed to know.

You leaned back in the seat, still holding onto his hand, the weight of the moment wrapping around both of you like a familiar old blanket. You didn’t need to press him, not yet anyway. There were still so many things you wanted to say, but for now, the city lights, the sound of Drew’s breathing, and the feeling of his hand in yours were enough. The rest could wait.

Finally, you turned your head, catching Drew’s gaze once more. “I don’t know how long it’s gonna be before I get another chance to see you like this, anything you had in mind” you questioned, teasing slightly, but truthfully it was a genuine question. You didn’t know when you’d see him again.

Drew’s smirk softened, and his thumb traced small circles over your hand. “Let’s make the most of it.” He said as you both locked eyes and the space between you two started fading…fast. You were breathing but it felt like the whole world just stopped the moment your lips connected to his. As he shifted his weight, the sounds of his leather jacket made you instinctively grab onto it with your free hand clutching it tightly beneath your palms. Drew knew how desperate you were and slowly guided you over onto his lap, your knees being on both sides of his legs as you could feel his bulge through the fabric of his black jeans. Even during all of the shifting, your mouths never let go of one another. His tongue, the mixture of saliva, and the faint taste of Wheatley Vodka accompanied the make out session you had. Your hands slowly untangled as his palms cupped your cheeks deepening the kiss you two shared. I’m really fucking kissing Drew McIntyre, but with how close you were and the friction becoming more and more heated, you were getting agitated. The fabric you both had on were in the way and it seemed that Drew felt the exact same way, because it was only for a brief moment that you both pulled away from each other. That kiss left you breathless yet wanting more at the same time as you quickly raised your arms slightly, letting your elbow rest against the ceiling of the car for a second as Drew removed your shirt, quickly pulling them back down you took off Drew’s leather jacket and his shirt tossing them both to the back. And just like that your lips were back onto each other’s again, only this time, you were the first one to take something off as you fumbled with his belt buckle for a few seconds. Being away from that kiss for even a few seconds felt criminal and you weren’t willing to pull away just to see where anything was, neither was he as you felt your lace bra come undone with a soft click.

Your breasts sprang free the moment the fabric dropped onto Drew’s chest which you quickly tossed into the passengers seat, uncaring about how sloppy the kiss was getting. Drew’s rough hands glided towards your chest before taking both your nipples in between his fingers causing a soft moan to slip from your lips. He knew exactly what he was doing by teasing you but you could play the same game, grinding your hips just above his where there was only a small amount of friction between you two. This earned a growl from Drew as you only smiled in the kiss, but he didn’t seem to be pleased in the slightest. It was almost like he could tease you but doing it back to him, was a mistake you’d end up paying for. His hands slowly pulled away from your breasts before unbuttoning your shorts, pulling your legs around where you were now in a sitting position with your legs draped across the passenger seat. “Take ‘em off” he instructed but his voice was firm, a command you knew you would follow regardless of what your mind told you. You quickly slipped off your sneakers before pulling off your shorts and panties along with them.

While you were busy doing that, Drew had slid his pants pants down just past his knees before tugging at the fabric of his boxers, sliding them down as well just in time for you to turn around and be met with a mouth watering sight. His hairy chest accompanied with a happy trail that lead directly to his dick had your eyes locked in place. Your pussy jumped in anticipation as your hands found their way over to the hard, veiny muscle between his legs. It was thick and the more your hand wrapped around it and moved up and down, the more desperate you became. You knew using a condom was a smart decision, but the thought of being filled with Drew’s dick, in his black mustang, while his hands were wrapped around you were enough to send the thought away. But you were smart enough to know better…for now.

“You got condoms don’t you?” You questioned before biting your lip as if contemplating your decision to use them but you decided to go with it. “Look in the glove compartment” he said while looking directly at you, his blue eyes baring into your dark brown ones making you really question that decision. If you looked at him any longer you could see yourself risking it all, prompting you to quickly turned away before opening the glove compartment and taking out a Trojan magnum XL, yanking it open with the pull of your teeth. With a swift motion, you pulled your hand away from Drew’s cock taking the condom out of the wrapping before discarding the wrapping somewhere in the car for now. “Oh? Someone doesn’t want any happy accidents, do they?” He teased as he felt the wet latex cover his muscle before pulling you back onto his lap. “Hell no, but if you keep talking to me like that we just might have one.” You cooed before grabbing both sides of his face, his beard feeling rough against your hands but the latex rubbing against your folds only made the space between you two unbearable.

As if you both had the same idea, your lips connected once again as your hands wrapped themselves around his neck pulling him closer. While you were distracted with playing tongue hockey, he took the opportunity to reach below you and position his dick right where it needed to be before pushing in causing a gasp to escape from your lips before a look of satisfaction appeared in your eyes. Drew didn’t want to waste any time and neither did you which is why just as quick as he entered you, you were already moving your hips against his. Drew leaned his seat back slowly while watching the scene unfold in front of him, your hands slowly unraveling from around his neck and making their way to his chest.

Your insides pushed inward towards the latex, tightening around him as gasps of pleasure slipped from you each time his dick pushed against your insides. “You’re a tight one aren’t you, squeezin’ me” he commented in a low hiss while admiring how hard your nipples got, the faint streetlights from the outside crossing over to highlight your nipples perfectly. Your body was like a temple for this man, his hands were all over it but to him everything about you was too perfect to not be touched. The veins in his hand became more prominent as his grip around your breast tightened, his thumbs flickering over your nipples causing your back to arch slightly.

“D-Drew…” you whispered before starting to slam your hips down against his making the friction inside of you increase and the feeling of your insides get warmer. Your pussy was only getting wetter and wetter by the second the more your hips made contact with his and the deeper he pushed into you. Despite this latex being in the way, you wanted all of him, down to the base. “Beautiful and desperate”, he hummed as he kneaded your breasts before pulling you down closer to his chest just enough to have your breast right in his face. His tongue slid over one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth completely while using his other hand to slowly slide around your back and down to your ass before smacking it once causing you to cry out. Without a second thought, Drew suddenly began to thrust upward, his hand staying on your ass for a little stability. But the rougher his thrusts got, the more erotic your face became especially with how deep he was going and you just couldn’t get enough of it.

The sweat droplets that covered his hairy chest, how his hair became messy as strands started sticking to his forehead because of the work he was putting in, as well as how rough his palms were gripping your ass like no tomorrow sent shivers down your spine. “Look at you, how tight this cunt is for me.” His Scottish accent was thick with seduction and need as your moans and his groans filled the car. “Ughnnn! Right t-there!” you screamed out as you rotated your hips against his, matching his thrusts. Your insides being hit in different directions by his cock made it all the more pleasurable, especially when he brushed over that spot causing your body to shudder. “I knew you’d be good for me, you’re exactly where I want you, understand me?” He whispered in your ear before as his hands squeezed your hips leaving imprints from his hands but you were into much bliss to care. As your hips slammed against his and you could feel the latex pushing up against your g spot, you could only throw your head back in pleasure not wanting this feeling to leave. “F-Fuck! D-Drew hit that fucking spot again! I’m gonna c-cum!”

“Oh yeah?” He questioned before taking a fistful of your dreads into his hands before tugging on them. “Show me sweetheart” his accent was thicker and his voice was around one octave lower than normal. That combined with the hair pulling made you go mad as you felt yourself spill all over the latex. “S-Shit! Don’t f-fucking stop!” You pleaded as Drew kept at it, loving the overstimulation, but this gave Drew an idea. “If I stop, it’ll be to give you something better. Still don’t want me to stop?” He spoke lowly into your ear leaving you to make a decision.

As much as you didn’t want him to stop bouncing you, you were curious on what he meant about giving you something better. “Just say the word Y/N” he said holding your hips in place stopping you from rotating them, to where he had full control before rotating them agonizingly slow. “S-Stop”, you muttered before Drew only gave a smirk in response and opened the car pulling you off of him for a quick second before stepping out of the car carefully and bending you over forcing your head into the drivers seat. “That’s much better, look at this view.” He commented before you felt a sharp pain on your right ass cheek causing a moan to erupt from you. It was painful, but it was also pleasurable. But before you could relish in that too much, you felt him enter you again, and surprisingly even though the door was open and technically this was in public, that was the last thing on your mind. As your body jolted forward with each thrust and your legs began to slightly shake, you couldn’t help but let your eyes roll back. As his cock was burying deeper and deeper into your insides, his hands found their way around your throat pulling your head up and making you face him neck exposed and posture compromised, the power dynamic being unmistakable in the way you looked up with a mix of tension and submission.

You could only let out gasps of pleasure completely as your body kept jolting forward from Drew’s hips hitting against yours repeatedly. “Aye, I told you, I’d give you something way better didn’t I?”he cooed as you could only roll your eyes back in response as you felt his cock start to nail your g-spot over and over again causing your legs to tremble as you let yourself go all over him once again. “Mmm! C-Cum i-inside me, give it to m-me p-please!” You begged completely forgetting the fact that he had a condom on.

Drew being the sly man he is didn’t remind you but instead gave a deep chuckle before it turned into a growl as his thrusts became more rough and primal as if he was taking ownership of the body beneath him. The look on his face said it all as his grip around your throat tightened, his fingers made their way into your mouth forcing it open and his hips slammed against your again letting out his seed into the latex inside of you. A drawn out moan accompanied him as he pulled out and slammed back in again causing your legs to give out, he was the only thing holding you up by this point. You were drooling all over his fingers and your body was spent.

After taking some time to catch your breath you could only look at him desperately with pleading eyes. Your hands gripped onto his wrists as his fingers slowly pulled out of your mouth, you could only bite your lip trying to give him a hint at that you weren’t ready to be done.

“You want Round 3 don’t you?”

“Oh definitely but Drew” you cooed. “This time with the condom off”, you whispered before moving your hips back and forth slowly teasing him further.

Oh boy…. ᡣ𐭩

A/N: I don’t know I do this bro…literally screaming and kicking my feet😭😗

A/N #2: Imma be real friend, that Damian one gonna take a minute but I will get to it😭

Divider Credits: @iwonbin & @aquazero

Taglist: @luvrgirl4roman @luvrsluxe @mselenalovebug @punksyeet @binnieaddict @sheaabuttaababyy @empressdede @uceyliyahh

#wwe #fanfic #wwe fanfiction #18+ mdni #smut #wwe fandom #drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre x reader #black reader #soundcloud

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bangaveragewhitewine · 1 year ago

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Valentine's with Bouncer!Eddie

I did not have time to write a full fic for our favourite Bouncer x Bartender lovers, so please accept these general thoughts and vibes instead ❤️

Let’s kick this off with the fact that Bouncer!Eddie is an absolute simp lover boy. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year, this man is spoiling you and being a sweetheart. He worships the ground you walk on.

He is waking you up on Valentine’s with his guitar on and nothing else - think the ‘I love you, bitch. I ain't ever gon’stop loving you, bitch’ video except he refuses to ever call you a bitch even affectionately but you get ✨the vibe✨

He just wants to make you laugh and he succeeds

Sings something silly like L-O-V-E, but with the lyrics changed to suit you / be way too sexual

Rose between his teeth? Check. Nicks his lip on an untrimmed thorn? You bet. (He’s fine, you kiss it better)

He has you for breakfast, making home between your legs until you have to push his head away and beg him to rail you

Ever obliging, your wish is granted. Twice.

You cuddle and talk about everything and nothing until you can both walk on your jelly legs to the shower

It’s a while before you make it out of the apartment for breakfast at the diner he brought you to before you actually realised you were down bad for each other

He bought you a little locket in the shape of a heart and got your initials together engraved inside

Gets a love boner when he puts it on you

You’re both working Valentines (sigh) but the bar is decked out in pink and red streamers and your specials board of cocktails has a few Eddie-approved holiday specials

He insists you mark him up before work - rosy pink and fiery red and deep purple lipstick marks all over his face and neck and down his chest (around his dick too, but that was your idea) so he fits the theme of the bar

When you tell him you’re wearing a surprise for him under your work clothes, he’s sporting a semi all night and Michelle has to keep shooing him away from the bar when he comes to beg for a kiss

Literally cannot stop looking at you from the door, he is such a simp for you and you look like a sexy angel behind the bar he wants to elope right now

You make out in the back alley like two horny high schoolers on your break, for old time's sake

He’s taking you away for the weekend btw - pack your bag, babe, he’s sorted cover for your shifts at work and everything!

When you get home you’re both tired but can’t get enough of each other and have really slow sweet sex until the sky gets light again

He’s the happiest man alive when you fall asleep listening to his heartbeat and whispers that he loves you even though you’re fast asleep and maybe you haven’t said it yet but he means it and he will be brave enough to say it for real soon

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson thoughts #bouncer!eddie munson #bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #happy hours #bangaveragefics #eddie stranger things

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seoul-bros · 5 months ago

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Jikook Week 61 Complete ✔️ (04/02 - 11/02/2025)

Jikook have finalized their 61st week in the military and it's time to look back at this week in 2022. It was an extremely complicated year for BTS. They knew well in advance that military service was coming and in the first six months of the year, continuing as if it was business as usual didn't sit right with them, as I think Namjoon and Jimin expressed very well in the Festa dinner.

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They were all under a lot of pressure and I suspect that the company did very little to relieve that and may have even added to it especially for Jungkook who had been marked for glory since their debut.

"Jungkook wasn't very confident but I had a strong conviction that he had a lot of potential" Bang PD on BTS Monuments

BTS were on an extended break after their intense schedule in the US at the end of 2021. Jimin was admitted to hospital on 30/01 suffering from the double whammy of acute appendicitis and COVID 19 and was operated on the next day.

During his recovery period he sent various Weverse messages to reassure the fans including these on 03/02 (SK time) and on 05/02 the day he was discharged.

He spent the next few days resting at home. In the early hours of 09/02 (in SK) he watched The Notebook for the seventh time (still don't get what he sees in that movie - Nicholas Spark does absolutely nothing for me) and then apparently kept on going with another movie (Weverse message). Wouldn't it be perfect if that film turned out to be Like Crazy (getting inspiration for FACE even then).

The next evening after various exchanges with ARMY on Weverse he posted a cryptic, "I'm happy".

So it was rest and recovery all the way for Jimin but what was Jungkook up to this week? These were the heady days when JK was prolific on Instagram and his posts came in fast succession almost like a flow of consciousness.

As infant ARMY, everything was fascinating and everything had to be pored over and reflected on in great detail. Even so, I've never really come to any firm conclusions about what was going on - except JK was going through something and the way he processed it was, unsurprisingly, through music.

On 03/02, JK posted his cover of Hate Everything

Had a perfect picture in my head, With you in the most beautiful dress I look happy as ever How did I let you go again?

Now I'm standing alone in the rain. Like the kinda movie that we used to hate. Wish I could take back the time. But I know this time it's real.

Hate that I'm singing this song. I hate that I have to be strong. Hate that you're gone. I hate all my flaws. Hate that you love someone else Hate everything. Just hate everything. Right now

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Then 05/02 he posted this dance video to these lyrics of Teyana Taylor's Bare Wit Me

On 06/02 he posted three sound clips on Instagram.

Roses by Finn Askey - "Hey, Rose I bought you five roses, won't you come to my show? Show you how to live life, yeah, you know you're fucking gold Give you all my time if you wanna take it slow Your soul is lovely, uh"

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2. Too many feelings by Ruel - "I let out too many feelings, shit, I should've kept in. Probably should've left 'em all unsaid. Didn't wanna scare you, just wanted to be near you. Wanted you to hear what's in my head You know, I'll take it back if , You take me back too, too"

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3. Audrey Nuna - Space - "Don't make me the one to say it Don't make me the one to say it 'cause I can't come down I'm only human now I just need some Space, space, space"

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On 07/02 he posted Even Days by 03ohn - "Any of the days, any of the words, Even the day we said goodbye"

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So he was posting a slew of break up songs 💔 one after another with regret combined with inevitability as the central theme i.e. "I love you but I'm feeling the pressure and I'm not sure I can be the lover that you want me to be".

On 08/02 he posted Never Change by Jeremy Passion with the lyrics "There is a place where both of us belong, But as of now we just have to be strong"

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and he ended the week with the decidedly more upbeat Takes Two by Fiji Blue on 09/02 and the lyrics, 'Cause all I want is you, is you It takes two 'Cause all I want is you, is you It takes two"

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Could this outpouring be related to jikook? Well if you believe they are together and have been for many years you could certainly ask yourself that question.

All long term relationships have their ups and downs and that is without having to deal with the spotlight of global superstardom, a kpop idol culture which requires stars to "appear permanently available" to their fans and the don't ask, don't tell approach to same sex relationships in SK. We know that Jimin was struggling at the time so perhaps it isn't too far fetched to think that Jungkook would also be struggling to help or to cope.

All I can say is that the next time we saw them together during the Seoul Permission to Dance concerts and in the BTS Monuments scenes filmed on the 13/03/2022 (according to Jimin's fridge) they appeared as united as ever.

So even if this was about them by mid March 2022 they had come to some agreement on how to move forward - together.

Post Date: 11/02/2025

#jikook #bts in the military #jimin #jungkook #bts in 2022

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themattress · 2 years ago

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Untitled Kairi Post

Y'know what? In a way, Kairi was tragically doomed as a character from the very beginning.

"Oh, because she was a love interest and damsel in distress!"

No. Myths, fairy tales and, well, Disney movies have used those tropes for ages, and if you're doing a story where a huge point is the influence of those things, it's kind of a given that the leading lady be a love interest and damsel in distress. And the writing is smart enough to put a twist on the trope given that Kairi's distress is much less than it appeared to be because she's Sora's love interest and he's her's, and after Sora saves her she saves him right back.

"Oh, because she wasn't a playable character or party member!"

No. It would have been nice to have the playable puzzle solving-based Kairi sequence they initially planned at Hollow Bastion, but I can understand why it was removed given how it would slow down the pace following what is perhaps the signature sequence of the game. And in any case it doesn't have any bearing on how things went for the rest of the series, given that Riku also was not a playable character or party member (he just had a crappy AI when pretending to help you fight Parasite Cage all so that he could kidnap Pinocchio).

"Oh, because she was stuck in a coma the whole game!"

NO! God damn it, how much must the game beat the point into your stupid head!?

And who could forget?

Stop laughing right now.

Kairi. Not just "her heart". KAIRI. Since the heart = the person.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, it exposes some serious sexism if one goes with the "Kairi was in a coma" line for KH1 and yet says "Ventus was inside of Sora" post BBS, since it's literally the exact same situation except that Kairi was always awake within Sora's heart as opposed to Ventus only waking up at the end of 3D. It's why Sora felt things regarding Hollow Bastion, why he experienced the memory of Kairi and her grandfather, and why he saw and heard Kairi multiple times. He wasn't hallucinating; that was always really her.

So, enough beating around the bush. What did I actually mean, then?

Well....let's start at the beginning.

Kairi's arc in the original Kingdom Hearts is not just told through the writing. Utilizing a video game as a visual/audible medium, it is also told through animation, voicework and music. During her introductory cutscene, we see Kairi asked by Sora if she remembers the world she was born in before being sent to Destiny Islands. "I told you before. I don't remember." She answers this sincerely. "Nothing at all?" Sora responds. That's when we see this detail.

"Nothing." Kairi is lying. She doesn't remember everything given the trauma caused by being forced out of her old home, but she does remember just enough to understand why it was traumatic. She had a comfortable life there, and a family. She was happy. And then it was all gone in an instant. Now, on Destiny Islands, she is similarly content ("Well, I'm happy here.") and fears risking that same loss. And yet a small part of her still yearns for the past. She loved what she can recall of her past, as she loves her present. She fears only the future.

Riku's fixation on his existential woes and the mysteries of the universe, while also putting her up on some sort of pedestal like she's something special, is not helping at all. Something about it feels wrong to Kairi...wrong and uncomfortably familiar. It's making her very anxious.

But Kairi has someone to lean on and help her keep up an optimistic, cheerful front, perhaps enough to talk herself into believing it: Sora. And during this scene, we hear the track "Kairi I":

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This track reflects Kairi's character in this moment. While there is a subtle undercurrent of worry, her heart is strong enough to not let it get to her and look on the bright side as she looks out to the sun setting over the ocean. With Sora's reassurance, she is able to feel as though her home and friends won't change or go away no matter what happens on her, Sora and Riku's planned voyage, which allows her to feel anticipation for it. All finally feels right.

Of course, things were not right, and Kairi ended up in heart form as her body and soul were lost to darkness along with Destiny Islands. From Kairi's POV, she is now in the Station of Awakening (aka Dive to the Heart) and can do little but watch Sora's adventures as she can see them through his eyes, not fully putting it together why she can and where she truly is.

In the scene at Merlin's House, we get to hear "Kairi II".

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While it's similar to "Kairi I", there is now a more somber and mysterious feel to it given the present circumstances. While she doesn't know if Sora can hear her, Kairi wistfully waxes nostalgic over how Merlin's House reminds her of the Secret Place on Destiny Islands. And while Kairi feels sad over missing that place, she's also happy that there are places like it elsewhere in the universe. She's clearly learning as much from Sora's journey as Sora is.

Finally, we hear "Kairi III" in the flashback with little Kairi and her grandmother.

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And while it starts out reflecting Kairi's childhood innocence, it ends up turning...almost sad. The reason why being one of the most overlooked details of the scene: at the end of the grandmother's story, she disappears, and little Kairi is shown moving her head all around looking for her. This isn't actually part of the memory, but a reflection of Kairi's heart. She knows that she had a grandmother and that her grandmother isn't here anymore, but she can't remember how her grandmother "left". But she at least still exists...within her heart.

Speaking of which, once Kairi's heart returns to her body and Sora loses his heart in the process, Kairi puts her foot down. She may have learned how to better deal with and accept change and loss, but a line still has to be drawn somewhere and Sora is that line for her.

Thus is she able to save him. Later, we see her worry about the future and things changing again when she questions whether anything can be the same between her, Sora and Riku again after the corruption Riku had underwent. Once again, Sora boosts her optimism.

More importantly, he helps her learn, as he does, that even when separated you can take strength in keeping your loved ones (metaphorically) in your heart, and that even if things change and Kairi is cut off from the people and things she loves, they will always exist within her heart, just as with her grandmother and the story she told her about light and darkness.

This is why, in the end, Kairi is able to let Sora go and yet still feel content.

From "Hikari" (JP):

I'll stop doing pointless things like thinking about the future. Today I'll eat delicious things. The future is always before us, Even if I don't know it.

From "Simple and Clean" (EN):

Regardless of warnings, the future doesn't scare me at all. Nothing's like before.

This is a really good, really well done character arc.

It's also a very human character arc.

Yes, there are a lot of fantastical things going on, but when you put all of that aside, what are you left with? A young girl moves away from her old home and everything that she ever knew and loved, which gives her anxiety about the same thing happening with the new home and everything that she's come to know and love from it, which now includes a certain boy. She fears the future; she fears change. In the end, she ends up staying in her new home - but the boy moves away! However, through her time spent with him she's learned to accept this because he'll always be a part of her heart, which is something that won't ever change.

When put that way, it sounds positively mundane, and by and large the KH fandom - and Tetsuya Nomura himself for that matter - don't want or like mundane stuff like that. They want the crazy, the overdramatic, the angsty, the flashy, the anime tropeyness they're familiar with. This is why they were unreceptive to Kairi's arc to the fullest degree, as in many of them are literally unaware it even happened because they were too busy fixating on the archetypal Japanese media-style dick measuring contest between Sora and Riku (which is also far deeper than they tend to give it credit for, btw, but I digress). And if that's the case, then the question gets raised: why bother focusing on or expanding Kairi at all? She doesn't "sell".

THIS is why Kairi was doomed from the start. It's not her fault. But it's sadly the truth.

#Disney #Square Enix #Kingdom Hearts #Kairi #Opinion #Analysis #Kairi Deserved Better #This has been a PSA

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chemicallywrit · 9 months ago

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Happy #AudioDramaSunday! A day late lol, I was slow this week. But Kingmaker Histories is back! Super Suits is back! Starfall is back! So much good work this week! Let’s goooooo

🪐 I have been listening to Leylines since it started because I love Good Story Guild, and Leylines is so cool. It’s a prestige family drama wrapped in a neat scifi concept and this week’s episode in particular really drive home the family dynamic that makes this show special. Listen to Leylines and cry about brothers with me.

🐺 Stories from Ylelmore continues to absolutely kill me. I think Rion’s problems with his werewolfism resonates with a lot of different real life challenges to being alive—racism, transphobia—but in this ep it felt like a potent nod to ableism as well. At what point does someone get to do something risky for their own mental wellbeing? At what point do one’s friends get to deny your choices to protect you? I don’t want to see what this is going to do to the kids’ friendship, except that I have to know.

🌊 Tales from the Fringes of Reality always presents us with these small perfect images of family care or unexpected friendship, but Paul Warren’s sentient moss is maybe the best thing I’ve ever heard. The focus this episode on slowing down, appreciating the moment, and resting really struck a chord. It was perfect.

😈 Forgive Me! is SO GOOD. This episode bright in Jeffrey Cranor, always a treat, to tackle fears both real and intangible that religion brings into our lives. I was raised religious and…woof. Like this character is right, the candy-coated Sunday School version of the Bible is incomplete, and does nothing to prepare a kid for the real and actual danger in the world. Especially in light of the recent hurricanes which are likely exacerbated by climate change, how are we supposed to react? It has a pretty satisfying ending for a question without many good answers.

🌝 Dead Space: Deep Cover ended this week as well, and oh jeez louise. This makes me want to play the video game, and i don’t really do video games. Highly recommend, it is a scifi horror treat.

Hey! My sweet baby kitty Mothman had a vet bill come up this week that I was less than prepared for, so if you like the stuff I make (like Inn Between, The Dead, and Re: Dracula) and this post, could you consider buying me a ko-fi?

Obligatory cat pic! Hark, a podcat!

#audio drama sunday #audio fiction #audio drama #fiction podcast #leylines #stories from ylelmore #tales from the fringes of reality #forgive me!#dead space: deep cover

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crack-whore-who-fuckedup-already · 29 days ago

Text

Be My Witness {14}

Part 14- Intoxication

Word Count- 8.1k

Content Warning- fake medical science lol, alcohol use, drug use, descriptions of minor injury, descriptions of intoxication, cannibalism, assault (Reader gets man handled by Al), mentions of past traumas

Authors Note- BAHAHAHAHA HEY YALL. happy to be back, long time no see! life has been really busy lately but i finally managed to finish a chapter! woohoo!! this one is certainly a thrilling ride, so strap in and read on!

Tag list!! (i see youz lurkin nyehehe <3)-- @cha0tic-auth0r

Previous < Chapter 14 > Next

Be My Witness Masterlist!

SONG: PIN-EYE by Jhariah

(unfortunately no lyric video found...)

youtube

It was pure luck that Angel would be getting his popsicles. With the hectic events of the afternoon -meeting Alastor, being mentioned in association with the hotel on live television, running into Val so soon after-, the last of the doe's errands had slipped her mind almost entirely. It wasn't until they passed a grocery store in NorthPen did her steps falter, an advertisement for the cold sticky-sweet treat catching her attention out of the corner of her eye.

Y/n hesitated to go in. Fat Nuggets was getting restless, and she felt exhaustion creeping into her bones, making her ache and yearn for rest. But with another bite to her torn cheek, she back tracked and stepped into the shop.

The hotel was a relief to see as they turned onto the street. Y/n finally felt like she could breathe. She never expected how quickly she'd come to think of this place as home -rickety walls, leaky pipes and all. She and Angel were together, and the hotel was surprisingly safe, making her feel safe. She was yet to see how that held up against Val's temper, but she wasn't letting herself think about that right now. She would find out soon enough.

Alastor hummed thoughtfully as they approached the building, already making a list of all the things he would change. Things he will change as soon as he's in good graces with the Princess.

When they approached the circus tent awning, Y/n waved Alastor toward the front door.

“Go ahead. I'll be there in just a minute.”

The buck stared after her for a moment, curious as she set the piglet down. The creature sniffed around the dirt, its little snout twitching and snorting. When his little hoof started pawing at the ground, Alastor finally turned to the door and knocked.

It took a moment, but sure enough, the door opened. Slow and unsure, a pale face peered up at The Radio Demon. He beamed his best smile.

“Hel-!”

The door slammed sharply in his face, and Alastor stood dumbfounded. A tense beat later, it opened again.

“-lo!”

The door slammed once more.

With an imperceptible twitch of his ears Alastor turned toward Y/n. The pig had finished his business and was now back securely in the doe's arms.

Her expression was haughty, almost smug when his eyes met hers. “Wow. Such a shady character, even Charlie Morningstar rejected you? I really should be concerned.”

“Nothing but a dazzling personality here, dearie! I couldn't possibly know what you're referring to. ‘Shady character’, ha!”

Y/n stood next to him now. As close as when she had tripped earlier, except now it was no accident. The way she looked up at him, her gaze unwavering, the faintest of smiles playing on her lips- it was all very relaxed. Like she had given up her earlier defensiveness. Her chin cocked towards him, her brow raising teasingly as a small laugh escaped her.

Alastor saw it then. The faintest of shimmers on her skin; spider silks fluttering in the breeze and catching the evening sun, caressing her face, her shoulders, her arms. Her magic was at play, coating her in illusions and hiding her true self from him. Barely visible, even to his trained eye.

He forgot himself as they held each other's gaze, and so unwilling to break away from her lure, he began to wonder if she was using her magic on him. Some sort of compulsion power he was unaware of, perhaps.

But, no. Simply a challenge of sheer will. Deer versus deer. Soul versus stubborn soul.

The door opened again, snapping Alastor out of his daze. The pale face stared up at him.

“May I speak now?”

Charlie's stunned eyes found Y/n's.

The doe gestured weakly to the Overlord beside her. “A stray followed me home.”

Charlie looked back at the sinner clad in red, suspicious but also intrigued. “You may…” she permitted the newcomer.

Y/n shuffled past the princess and into the lobby, leaving them to introductions. She felt a sense of accomplishment, managing to get back to the hotel safely with this stranger on her heels. But knowing that he intended to stick around to ‘help’ made uncertainty bubble low in her spine. A dull ache settled behind her eyes and she tried to forcefully shake the feeling off with a quick flap of her ears.

The doe passed a riled Vaggie on her way to finding Angel, who was laying on the sofa. Raggedy, stained, and worn in, it was the only loungewear in the lobby available for seating at the moment, the other couches strewn up against the walls. One of Angel's legs was hanging off the side of the cushions, the other propped up against the backrest. He had a popsicle stick hanging out of his mouth as his upper two hands fiddled with his hair, fingers smoothing through it; a carefully established routine after a successful fight.

He was focused pulling a few bloody strands apart when Y/n approached him, plopping the piglet on his chest before she herself plopped between his spread legs, the bags forgotten on the floor.

Angel cooed at the sight of his precious pet, wrapping him up in a smothering hug. Fat Nuggets didn't mind one bit. He squealed and snorted in delight as he rubbed cheeks with his owner.

The spider turned to Y/n with a smile and a word of gratitude on his tongue but stopped short as he took in the sight of her.

She leaned back tensely, trapping Angel's leg against the back of the couch. Her eyes were closed, brows pinched in discomfort. One of her hands was to her head, holding her temple carefully. She heaved a heavy breath, exhaling long and slow through her lips, which twisted into a soft scowl soon after.

“Sugar?” Angel's hand found her shoulder. “You alright?”

Her eyes cracked open, peeking at him through her lashes as she took another deep breath. Then she forced a small smile to her lips.

“Headache,” she stated simply, shifting in her seat.

Angel's lower arms reached out for her and easily tugged her onto his reclined form. Fat Nuggets traded spots with her, finding himself nestled between the doe's and spider's splayed legs at the opposite end of the couch.

Y/n wrapped her arms around Angel, sinking into his warmth. “Just peachy otherwise,” she sighed happily.

She could hear talking around the corner, Alastors cheery demeanor doing jack shit to ward off Vaggie's suspicion. The silver haired woman growled a curse at the man, her defensiveness giving way to her native language.

Y/n tittered at the insult. Her close exposure to Valentino allowed her to make out the words' offensive meaning. She could only imagine how The Radio Demon felt being aggressively called a son of a bitch. If he even understood that that's what was being said to him.

“Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here,” he began, his carefree words turning suddenly sinister.

“I would have d̶͓̾o̸̜̱͑̀n̶̥̅͝ë̸̯ ŝ̶̛̲̩̭͙̞̼̩̩͈̳̉̋̈͗͆̿͐̅͗̚͝͝ͅo̴̡̼͕̭͖̬͍̤̜̯̎ a̷̢̛̺͖̺̦͈̗͓͔͛̐̾̏̿̒̽͆̀̅̃͌̃̈́̾̓́̉̀͝͝ľ̵̨̡̨̧̙̥̖̺̹̞̦͈̗̳̺̦͕͈͉̠̞͙̠̥̓̄̀͐̔̔̇̒̑̈́͜͝͝r̸͔̰͚͇̙͚̳̦͓̮͖̳̙̰̲̣̞͍̖͕̲̮̳͂͑̊͆̃̂̚̕ͅȩ̶̢̛̟̲̼͔͕̻͎̱̣̳̗̜̬̝̠͈͊͛̋͂̆͗͜ą̵̡͔̜͙̗̩͈̥͕̩̰̹͛͑̈͋ͅͅͅd̵̨̬̯̙̃͂̅̀̌̓̎͗́̀͛͋͌̇̑͋̌̓͋̑͒̓̑̄̕̕y̷̗̍́̈́̃̓̈̔̅̀̋̈́̐̇͛̌͋̀́̀̌̈́̽̌̆̐̍̚͘͝͝.”

Radio static filled the lobby, thick and suffocating. It made Y/n's ears ring and her hairs stand on edge. Her giggles quieted and she flinched, the throbbing in her head amplifying as the room tensed at Alastor's words.

But it was gone as quickly as it came, and Alastor excitedly changed the subject.

Y/n caught her cheek between her teeth, tugging and pulling at the already shredded skin there until it tore further. She swallowed thickly, pushing down the rising nerves once more.

Instead she focused on the tingling in her body, just underneath her skin. It had begun creeping in as she was leaving the grocery store and was now a pleasant subtle pulse. Shadows passed behind her eyelids, shapes and colors hardly discernible due to her low doses. But she was experienced enough with her own blood to recognize the effects. Far too many times she had defaulted to this form of self-administration. A last resort is what she would say to anyone who dared ask about it, which no one did. But really, it was just a nasty habit she developed over the years and couldn't quite seem to kick.

“...Y/n?”

“Hmm?” Her eyes shot open at Angel's voice.

“Did you hear a thing I said?”

“What?” She looked up at him.

“The Vaudevillian Villain over there tucker you out that good, huh?” He gestured toward Alastor who, along with Charlie and Vaggie, had filed further into the lobby. “I thought ya didn't have work today. Val call you in too?” She stared at him, her brain slow to process his implications. “Why did you bring him back here? He must've been real good under the sheets for you to-”

“No, no! He's not a client, Angel. I ran into him on the way home. He said he wanted to help so…”

“Ahhh, I see. A gentleman wanting to lend a helping hand? And just how good were those hands exactly?”

Y/n thumped his chest. “It's not like that. He wants to help Charlie with this place. Or at least, that's what he told me.”

“And you believed him?” The spider's head tilted forward, challenging her with a teasingly inquisitive smirk. “You're not at all blinded by his demon form, deer cunt yearning to feel his big deer co-”

“Woah-kay!” Y/n's hand clamped down over Angel's mouth. Her own head quirked, thinking she had the upper hand in this friendly game. “Y’know, I'd be careful how you talk to me or those popsicles I got you? I'll toss ‘em to the quieves.”

Angel pulled back with a smug smile. “Not if I eat them all first.”

It didn't take much at all for Angel to push Y/n off of him and straight onto the floor. She landed with a thud and a harsh groan. “Oh, you fucking dick.” Despite his roughness, they laughed at each other, her while she rubbed her sore bum, and him while he reached for the abandoned bag on the floor.

Angel sat back with a new popsicle in hand -slightly melted and runny, just how he liked them. Y/n stood and stretched before snatching the ice-pop box and walking it to the fridge, making a big show of it for a watching Angel Dust. He only sucked long and hard on his vaguely phallic shaped frozen treat, eyes boldy holding hers as she walked away, knowing full well he won. They both grinned at their friendly competition.

Y/n indulged in a popsicle. She hadn't eaten yet today and her stomach was starting to make it known. If she had been paying any attention to her bodily cues, she would have gotten something other than popsicles at the grocery store. Somehow the Princess of Hell was struggling to understand the concept of a stocked kitchen.

Y/n settled next to Angel on the couch again, discarding the wrapper on the table nearby.

“Redemption. Oh, the nonexistent humanity! No, no, no, no. I don't think there's anything left that can save such loathsome sinners.”

Suddenly Alastor was talking about, and gesturing, to them. Y/n's face turned sour as she pulled the frozen treat from her lips, and Angel threw his hands up incredulously. Standing next to Y/n, Vaggie looked like she was going to explode, her arms crossed and her jaw clenched.

“There's no undoing what is done.”

“So then, why do you want to help me if you don't believe in my cause?”

“Consider it an investment! In ongoing entertainment for myself,” Alastor pitched. “I want to watch the scum of the earth struggle to climb up the hill of betterment, only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure.”

Angel spared a glance at Y/n. His brow was furrowed, quirked, as if asking ‘this the guy you brought home?’. Y/n only rolled her eyes dismissively because no, he isn't. And no, she didn't. At least, not intentionally. And certainly not for the reason Angel was insinuating.

The accusations were starting to irk her, uncharacteristically so. She wasn't easily bugged by Angel's comments, not usually. She considered for a moment, maybe it was The Radio Demon’s static and his pitiless words that was dampening her mood. Either way, she needed a breather; a moment to herself, where she may or may not be able to sneak herself something stronger than… well, her cheek.

Alastor pulled Charlie to the other side of the room, falling into thinly veiled flattery. Y/n took that as her chance to get away. With a deep breath, she scooped up Fat Nuggets and his bag, and shuffled toward the rickety grand staircase, popsicle melting in her mouth as she went.

“I'm off to get a bump-” A Freudian slip if she'd ever had one. “Book!” Y/n spun around, a guilty laugh escaping her. “I'm gonna go get a book… to, uhm, read… Yeah.”

Luckily, Vaggie seemed too focused on Charlie and her new guest to acknowledge the slip up. Angel bit back his laughter with a shake of his head as Y/n slowly turned around, hoping not to draw any further attention to herself. Then she was up the staircase and by her lonesome, finally.

Fat Nuggets was dropped off at Angel's room and Y/n was sure to grant him a generous amount of pets before she left him in his new home. Then she trudged across the hall and into her own room.

She didn't bother flipping the lights as she entered. Just closed the door behind her and let the darkness shroud her. Moving through the shadows, she pulled back the curtains just enough to allow her to see what she was doing. A small stripe of light was cast across her bed and Y/n noticed a bag sat there, seemingly waiting for her on the mattress.

The bag that Alastor had taken from her at the start of their walk.

Y/n approached carefully, convinced it was some trick. A bag full of spiders, rabid rats, flaming wasps. Or worse… cheap, impure drugs.

But when she pulled the bag open, nothing jumped out at her or seemed out of the ordinary. In fact, everything was accounted for, and then some. The new clothes she bought for herself, the string light decoration she decided on last minute, and something new -yet strikingly nostalgic.

A radio.

Old fashioned and ornate, it sat among the various pieces of fabric, tucked almost entirely away. She reached for it, pulling the device free from the bag and holding it up to the light to inspect it.

It was heavy in her hands but not cumbersome. The wooden panels were stained and polished, not a splinter out of place as she ran her fingers along the grain. The knobs were a pale ivory, indicators painted with a bold red. The speaker was covered with a hard mesh, wood pieces twisting over it like decorative armor.

Y/n's breath hitched, unsure how she came into possession of such a beautiful work of art. And unsure what she did to deserve it.

...Alastor….

...When did he…?

On second thought, maybe a random and expensive looking gift from an ominously illusive Overlord wasn't a good thing at all…

Still, it was a wonderful piece of technology. It would be a shame if she were to discard it so thoughtlessly... So onto the shelf it went with the other nicknacks she's collected over the years. It fit snugly between the crystal tower Angel gifted her and the handful of books she kept in her reading rotation. A dazzling centerpiece.

With a satisfied nod, she went about her business. She plucked a book off the shelf to take downstairs before bumbling around her room, trying to remember where she'd put her dwindling stash. When she finally found it, her heart sank at how much was left; a measly corner in the already small bag. She took the rest of it quickly then crumbled up the empty bag with a groan and tossed it aside to deal with later.

With her nerves back in check, the rest of the day went by in a blur. Nifty and Husker were interesting characters Y/n was sure she'd be forced to get to know. And of course, the most exciting part of the evening; when a bozo in a decked out blimp busted down the front wall and the chaos that ensued. The Radio Demon was quick to flaunt his scarily impressive power while he bested the serpentine demon. And when that was done and dealt with, he led everyone back inside while volunteering himself to make food for everyone. Which Vaggie, Y/n and even Angel thought was a little too eager, but of course Charlie encouraged him. Though to Alastor’s credit, the first whiff of it out the kitchen and Y/n fell silent mid conversation with Angel.

The spider's recounting of his afternoon battle fell on deaf ears as Y/n closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, gathering up as much of the savory aroma as she could. Her head spun as her mouth watered, and the doe remembered then how little she'd had to eat that day. So when the time came, she joined everyone else in the dining room and took a seat at the table.

Alastor had boasted about this particular jambalaya recipe- something having to do with his mother. Y/n would have probed him about the topic if he hadn't disappeared immediately after presenting the dish. What kind of host prepares a meal but doesn't stick around to see their guest enjoy it? Not the most encouraging in terms of trust. I mean, what if he had poisoned the food? Or cursed it somehow? Or… or… oh, what did it matter when it smelled that heavenly. And the flavor absolutely blew her away. Y/n genuinely couldn't remember the last meal she had in Hell that tasted this flavorful. Explosive, spicy, and wonderfully textured, the doe found herself filling her plate with more than she could eat.

With a full tummy and a foggy mind, Angel hauled her to the new bar while ranting and raving about how relieved he was that alcohol was allowed in the building again. Husker seemed oh-so very thrilled to be serving them- not. The old cat was grouchier than when Angel doesn't get his coke fix.

One, two, three shots went by, as well as a cocktail or two. When Y/n felt her head droop with her eyes, she figured it was time to tuck herself away for the night before she wasn't able to get up for her morning shift. She bid Angel and Husker a goodnight, then trudged her way to her room.

Sleep came quick enough, though it didn't quite stick. She was up a couple of hours later, parched and unable to turn her brain off. So she decided to do some exploring. There were still floors of the hotel Y/n had yet to see, after all. The theatre was yet to be found.

The doe knew she could ask Charlie where it was, but she rather enjoyed meandering through the building and making discoveries of her own. So she slipped something warmer on, grabbed a bottle from the now empty lobby, and set out to look around.

Turns out the hotel also had a confectionery shop, an indoor playground, as well as a nurses office. It struck Y/n how many of the rooms were geared toward children. She even came across a fun house room, complete with distorted mirrors, twisty slides, and shifting, twisting platforms. With a swig of the bottle, she moved on quickly.

At the end of a hallway was a white marble foyer, grand golden doors at its center. Her ears perked up and her tail twitched excitedly as she pushed through the doors; she knew this is what she had been looking for.

If the rest of the hotel was run down, the theatre was absolutely trashed. Shredded curtains, busted seats, and holes in the ceiling with the night sky peeking through at her.

The crown moulding was orchard themed. Apples, naturally. The centerpiece hanging over the foot of the stage was a tall and burly tree. Its cobweb covered branches spread out to either side, reaching all the way around the theatre house. Golden apples, birds, and snakes stood out among the artwork and peered down at her, making her feel a little less alone.

It was but a shell of the theatre it once was. Y/n could tell that much without even having seen its original state. But she didn't mind. She was just happy to be back in a theatre.

She hopped up onto the stage, bottle clutched firmly in hand.

There were still lights fixed to the ceiling, pointed toward the stage, and she figured if she could find a light box she might be able to turn them on. With another swig, she peeked around backstage, through the darkness.

Eventually, on the other side of the stage, she came across a switch box. The protective front panel was slashed open, metal shanks jutting aggressively outward. Y/n didn't have to open the box to know the circuitry was fucked, she could see the damaged switch board through the shredded panel.

“Looking to put on a show, dearie?”

Y/n's heart jumped out of her chest. With a startled gasp, she spun around as the bottle slipped out of her hand and shattered on the wooden floor beneath her. She stepped back in a panic, the sound of glass shattering making her flinch out of the way and bump against the switch box.

Her gaze found who had snuck up on her; the obnoxious newcomer, Alastor. He stood by the curtain and, despite being bathed in shadows, his eyes glowed red with amusement as they scanned the broken bottle at her feet.

“What a terrible waste of whiskey,” he chided unseriously.

Y/n sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“A star's debut on a new stage; how could I miss it,” Alastor said, once again frustratingly blasé.

Her ear twitched and her fur prickled. “New?” Y/n grumbled. “What makes you think I'm new here?” She gestured vaguely to the theatre around her.

“What artist would perform fully in the dark, unless they were unfamiliar with the theatre?”

He had a point, she supposed. Her first instinct had been to turn on the light, after all. Still, she hated to admit he was right.

Y/n stepped over the broken glass and spilled drink, making her way past the buck and back toward the stage, light box abandoned. The glow from the hellish sky would have to do in illuminating her way.

She stopped briefly beside Alastor, shoulder nearly brushing his. It was starting to feel like a test, no, a challenge, the way she'd stand so boldly close to him. But right now, her eyes were distant as she looked stubbornly into his, unfocused like her mind was all the way down in Sloth Ring. So he dismissed it this instance on the grounds of her intoxication.

“Well, smart-ass, you're shit out of luck. There's not going to be a performance here tonight.” Y/n wasn't entirely sure she really believed her own words as she left the wings. “Not in the way you want it, anyway," she settled for.

Her feet stopped her at center stage and she faced the audience, taking in the ratty seats. She didn't have to try too hard to imagine them as they were years ago, plush and full of demons ready for a show. She felt a tickle in her throat: her voice twitching with the suppressed urge to sing.

“Ohh,” Alastor trilled, having turned to follow her. “We've a diva in our midst, do we now? Is the state of the theatre not to your liking?”

Y/n hummed. So, this is the act she'd be playing. If it was a diva he wanted, a diva he would get.

“No, actually, it's not,” she snapped as she spun on her heel. “The curtains are torn, and the stage floor is completely worn out- more so than I am after a day of work,” she critiqued. The doe looked up at the ceiling. “Probably because there's more exposed holes in the roof than in one of my pornos, and the acid rain over the years has eaten away at the varnish.” She scuffed the floor with her shoe, twisting the ball of her foot into the worn wood to test the resistance. “Don't even think I could do a decent pirouette on here without embarrassing myself.” Then she looked out into the audience for a second before pointing to the lights fixed to the ceiling. “And the lights! Don't get me fucking started on the lights,” she growled.

Alastor watched her theatrical tirade. He felt like an actor in the scene with her, standing on the stage opposite to her, working off each other's energy. It was a thrilling sensation.

Though nothing thrilled him as much as the thought of being her director. Her doing exactly as he says, executing his visions, making his art come to life...

How rare it was for him to come across a muse. Exceedingly so. Alastor hoped she didn't disappoint him.

“Who knew the Morningstar Princess had such ungrateful residents?”

It was a joke, meant to tease the woman for her clearly obvious act. But her face fell and she went silent as the words hung in air between them. Suddenly she wasn't acting, and her posture shifted tensely.

The buck rolled his eyes. This was a part of their little dance he was growing less and less fond of; her ever shifting sensitivity. His favorite game of cat and mouse and he suddenly seems bored of it when playing with her. One minute she's joking along with him, the next she's shut up tight like a clam.

Alastor would crack her eventually.

The Radio Demon took a step, and then another. With every slow, suave footfall in the doe's direction, a stage light turned on, one by one in a row until the entirety of the stage was brightly illuminated. He was standing a mere foot away from her now, and she turned her chin up at him, glaring in the suddenly blinding lights.

One of her hands came up to shield her face and Alastor caught sight of that delicate shine on her skin again. It shimmered down the blade of her hand, over her wrist bone, and up her arm. Alastor followed it for as far as he could see it. She shifted and the shine disappeared under the light as something else was revealed.

A cut. On her upper arm, just above her elbow. It wasn't terribly long, but it looked deep and ragged around the edges. Crimson was weeping thickly from the gash and Alastor could smell the metallic tang from where he stood.

His brow quirked as he swallowed the saliva that pooled under his tongue.

“You're bleeding.”

The doe looked stunned for a moment. Then it was her turn to roll her eyes. She exhaled a short disbelieving puff of air, almost a laugh, as she shook her head incredulously. Another shift in attitude.

“What a joke. Peak comedy right there, ladies and gentleman.”

Hmm, sarcasm, the buck thought to himself. I suppose that's better than outright wariness.

Her scorn wasn't over though. And since she insisted on making a mockery of him, he insisted on having a taste of her; that taste he never got all those years ago.

“Just watch how I laugh. Ha, ha- ow!” Y/n flinched.

Alastor pulled away from her arm, finger tips coated in her sticky blood. She glared harshly at him for a split second just before she registered him raising his hand to his mouth.

His lips closed happily around his finger.

“NO-” She jumped to stop him, but he beat her to it.

Tangy and bitter, the coppery flavor coated his tongue. He swallowed thickly, and so did she, their reasoning vastly different.

“What did you just do?” Her voice was nothing if not panicked, her glare replaced with wide, clear eyes- clearer than they had been just moments before. They flicked between his fingers, his lips, and back to his own red ones before her hands flew to cover her mouth. “Oh, fuck,” she breathed.

“I enjoy a meal with my entertainment, dearie. Don't you?” He said it so nonchalantly, Y/n almost agreed with him.

“Oh, no no-no-no no.” She grabbed his wrist -hand still held up to his face for another tasting- and pulled, yanked it away from his lips.

Alastor tensed, her cold fingers foreign on his warm skin. He almost pried himself away, then pried her in half, simply for touching him. The only reason he didn't, or so he told himself, was because it got him one step closer to her magic. With her hand wrapped around his wrist, he could feel her power as it coated her skin, light and soft. It didn't penetrate, just swirled against their flesh like early morning mist on the bayou, and the buck thought it felt similar to walking through springtime fog.

Y/n brushed at his fingers, wiping away what little blood was left on them.

“What did you do?”

“No need to worry, dearie. It was only a taste. I would have taken more if I really wanted to, so consider yourself safe,” His eyes narrowed, conveying something akin to playfulness. “For now.”

“What-?” She looked him up and down quickly, cautiously. “You're a-”

“A cannibal? Well, yes of course.”

Y/n released his wrist. “This isn't good.” She took a sobering step back. “This is not good.”

“It wasn't terrible, actually.” Alastor said matter-a-factly, mindlessly taunting the doe as she looked around, frantically trying to figure out what to do next. “I've had worse tasting snacks than you.”

She snapped to face him. “Don't you fucking dare call me that.” Her eyes were frenzied, bright and blazing with defensiveness.

Alastor held her glare, steadily and boldly. “There it is.” Intrigue colored his voice as his grin widened. “There's that fire I remember you having.”

Y/n seethed for a minute, absolutely livid with the demon in front of her. But he smacked his lips, tongue darting out to clean away any remaining blood and the doe quickly had to prioritize damage control over emotional crash out. She heaved a laboured breath and shook her head disapprovingly.

“I hope you like tea.”

“I prefer coffee.”

“...Let me make you some tea.”

~_~_~_~_~

Charlie had mentioned the kitchens before, once the princess realized her guests were still out getting intoxicated after they'd left the building.

“There are no drugs allowed in the Hotel, you know that. And I won't encourage bad choices. But I understand you're adults and you will make your own decisions. So I ask that you at least take care of yourselves when you do. There's water in the kitchens, and snacks in the pantry downstairs for when you're hungover.”

Aside from the commissary kitchen on the first floor -which served the dining hall-, the hotel had a handful of kitchenettes and smaller cooking spaces scattered about.

On the seventh floor of the hotel was a smaller home kitchen, meant for personal use. A standard stove top, fridge, and sink. There was a stand mixer on the countertop. It was surrounded by measuring cups and bowls, looking as if the recipe had been abandoned halfway through.

A table lined the opposite wall. It was big enough for three chairs, one on each side of the table. Though, one of them was a high chair, shaped like a rubber duck. It was pulled out from the table and still had a bowl on the tray. A child's meal, interrupted.

On the fridge there were magnets, dozens of them from all around the Seven Rings, and even a couple from Earth. They held up photos of the Morningstars. Family trips, events, holidays. Memories upon memories of Hells rulers living their most domestic life.

Y/n hadn't realized this was their family kitchen. The couple of times she'd wandered through here for water, she had left the lights off and moved in the dark. And now, with the warm glow of the overhead light, she could see how lived-in the space was, and how everything looked as though it had been abandoned mid activity.

Alastor trailed behind her, silent for a change. He had gone quiet on their walk up to the kitchen. His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes surveyed the room, sweeping over every little detail left untouched. When he lingered in the middle of the room, Y/n pulled out a chair, brushed the dust off the cushion, and gingerly offered him the seat.

He took it with a nod.

“So, if you don't mind me asking,” Y/n began as she rinsed a pot and put water on to boil. “Why cannibalism?” It came out more skeptical than she'd meant.

She had a general distrust of cannibals, it's true. Long ago, in her first couple years of being in Hell, she was targeted as a meal one day when she foolishly wandered the streets of Cannibal Town alone. It was purely her fault, she came to tell herself. Distracted by her own thoughts, if she had only paid more attention to her surroundings it might have been avoided. Y/n hoped Alastor didn't read too far into her wariness when it came to that particular population.

“What do you mean?” The Overlord asked.

“What made you…” Y/n’s ears flicked back, unsure how to put it lightly. “Want to eat people?”

The doe searched through the cabinets, looking for where the royal family might store their tea. She found a tin box with dark loose leaves of some kind. FireWort, read the plain front label. It didn't tell her much about the product aside from that. But the back label had instructions detailing how to steep the leaves. Another look in the cabinet and bingo- a mesh strainer and an assortment of mugs sat farther back on the shelf. She grabbed the tool and the most neutral looking cup, set it on the counter beside the now simmering water, then turned to the Overlord talking behind her.

“Well, I wasn't always like this,” Alastor leaned back, crossing his legs while considering her question. “When I'd heard stories of cannibalism before, I had always thought it was an issue of control. That those people simply lacked self restraint,” he hummed almost humorously. “But when I got to Hell, and took a look around at the rapist and the racists and found myself, an equal-opportunity murderer, among them. Well, I had a bit of an epiphany then.”

“And what was that?”

“It wasn't about lack of control. It's the opposite in fact. It's about freedom; doing what you want, inflicting your will over others, just because you can.”

Silence lingered between them as Y/n contemplated that perspective. Finally, she leaned back against the counter with crossed arms. “That's not freedom,” she scoffed bitterly. “That's power.”

He pointed at her enthusiastically. “Freedom to exercise power, yes exactly. So, you understand.”

“No,” Y/n couldn't help but shake her head as she turned back around with a frown. “No, I really don't think I do.”

Water splashed over the side of the mug as she poured it onto the strainer, the water bleeding orange a few seconds later. She scooped up the mug carefully and walked it toward The Radio Demon.

“So, 'freedom’ is why you cannibalize others,” she summed up simply.

Alastor accepted the mug with an unimpressed quirk of his brow. He brought it up to smell its earthy, spicy aroma and held it under his nose for a moment while he spoke.

“That, and the taste of flesh in gumbo is really quite spectacular,” he finished with a sip, unaffected by the scalding temperature.

Again, he wasn't particularly impressed. But at least he hadn't spat it out in her face and verbally assaulted her for it. And she would certainly take his second trial sip as a win.

“I will take your word for it,” she conceded with a victorious smirk.

“Now,” Alastor sat the mug down on the table between them. “You didn't really drag me up to this dingy kitchen just for tea, did you dearie?”

Y/n maintained his eye contact, trying to tell if he felt anything yet. If he did, he wasn't showing it. He seemed rather composed overall, and she thought back to how long it seemed to take the Vees to show signs of being under the influence of her blood. Longer than the average demon, she recalls that much. She suspected it had to do with their overlord status. Possibly their magic fighting off hers? It was an interesting concept to think about. But one thing was certain, the toxicity of her blood would win out in the end. It always did.

“Y’know,” the doe shrugged. “Being high is always more fun with company.”

What Y/n didn't know was that a steady chill had been creeping up the bucks legs. He brushed it off when he first felt it walking into the kitchen, thinking it was a result of being so close to the king's quarters, anticipation of poking around and all. But the chill was unmistakable now and the conversation was becoming arduous. And he refused to show it.

His eyes looked her up and down. Then he leaned in with a small, surreptitious tilt of his head, committed to keeping up his facade. “Surprised to say, I don't entirely mind your company either.”

Y/n decided not to read too much into the comment. “Uh-huh.” She suspected he hadn't caught on yet. “Let's get through tonight and you tell me if that's still true in the morning.”

“Now aren't you ambitious,” Alastor laughed lazily, suddenly sounding a bit tired. “Trying to spend your whole evening…” His words slowed and faltered. “...with...me?…”

Something in his eyes changed. It looked as if a thought had struck him out of the blue. And all of a sudden, Y/n could see the cogs turning in his head. His eyes darted back and forth and for a split second, he gave the faintest impression of a frightened animal.

That scared look was gone the instant his eyes found hers again.

“I need coffee.” His voice came clipped and curt.

Alright, Y/n cautioned herself. Here we go…

“Maybe we should stick with tea,” she suggested. “It's probably best you just sleep it off, y'know?”

The Radio Demon left no room for disagreement.

“Coffee. Now.”

The doe jumped to her feet, her ears pressed back cautiously. “O-okay, yeah.” She made for the cabinets. “Let me see what I can find…”

Looking at the cup, Alastor entertained the possibility that maybe she had poisoned it, or drugged it with something. Why, he wasn't sure. Maybe per orders of her boss. But Alastor had no direct quarrels with Valentino. It was Vox and his lackeys he really had to be concerned about. So what motivation would this obviously inferior demon have to make such a move on him.

Alastor pushed the drink away from him with a scowl.

He could feel it bubbling in his stomach and beneath his skin. His natural ear movements got harder and harder to restrain. They wanted to flick and twitch with each new vibration that thrummed through his chest, up his neck and out the tip of his antlers. He could feel his smile getting tense, strained against his cheeks. And worst of all? His tail. The base of his spine quivered, and the dreaded appendage damn near fluttered under his suit coat.

Y/n heard the scrape of his chair on the floor, but barely had a chance to move before she was forced to turn by his hand wrapped tightly around her neck.

Her yelp was smothered in her throat.

“You have five seconds to explain what you did to me, before I gut you nose to naval.”

He held firm, both in his hand and in his eye contact, not removing either until Y/n managed to tremble out a nod. And when she did, his hand slid from her neck to the back of her head where he grabbed hold of a fistful of her hair. To assert his authority, of course, and to keep her under his command. Though there was also something grounding about his hold on her. Not only did his legs feel unsteady beneath him, but his mind was foggy as well. Yet with his hand in her hair, he felt tethered, like a moored ship.

She swallowed thickly before speaking. “You did it to yourself.”

Alastor growled as he yanked back on her hair, just enough to brandish the delicate flesh of her neck to him.

“It's true!” Y/n flinched. “You should be careful whose blood you ingest…never know who might be tainted nowadays.”

“Tainted? With what?”

“I don't-” He bared his teeth as he pulled her in. “Some kind of toxin!” Y/n blurted quickly. “Valentino’s doctors say it has to do with the proteins in my blood or something- I don't remember! But, it won't kill you… you'll just be high as a kite for a few hours.”

Alastor could feel his lungs.

With every breath he took, it was as if they rattled in his chest, and he wanted to reach inside himself and pluck them out. He focused instead on Y/n’s heart beat. His frenzied eyes raked over her pulse point, just under her jaw. It fluttered there, keeping a steady rhythm, no faster than his own. He contemplated raising his clawed finger to her flesh and slicing. Thought the sight -and taste- of blood pouring from a wound might calm his increasingly troubled mind, and it probably would have. But he refrained, telling himself that it's best not to make a mess of the Princess Morningstar's kitchen… or guests, for that matter. He didn't want to end up on her bad side so soon…

And while that was all true, he also took in the information he was just given by the doe and decided he didn't want to be any higher than he already was. Although, he was quickly gathering that he might not have a say in that.

Alastor's vision blurred. And his head suddenly felt heavy, like a ten ton weight replaced his foggy brain. He blinked away the dizziness with a shake. But when he raised his gaze to interrogate Y/n further, his vision spiraled with color, and his words fell flat on his tongue.

Purple, pinks, blues, reds. A myriad of shapes and colors overlaid his sight and took his breath away.

His grip in her hair faltered.

The Overlord was buzzing -physically vibrating- as he tipped forward towards the doe. In a futile attempt to steady himself, he reached for the countertop ledge. Though he came up short and was surprised to find the hip of the demon in front of him instead. It wasn't ideal, and he just about tore himself away from her the instant he realized. Only, she didn't falter at his touch.

No, she straightened before him, and pushed back against his shoulders until he himself stood straight again. It was dizzying, and he instinctually contemplated snapping her wrists off and shoving them down her throat at the sensation of someone touching him.

But she helped him find his footing again.

So he begrudgingly let the hands be. Both hers on his shoulders and his own on her hip and in her hair.

Y/n had seen this all before. The slurred speech, the dazed look, the debilitating vertigo. A pattern she noticed among first time users -herself included. Even Valentino's first time had him teetering over her.

Just after discovering her special little secret, Valentino had left her bloodied and bruised in that dingy film studio, angry she had kept such valuable information from him. That very first day her boss got high off her blood was not one Y/n remembers fondly. But it's true, even the Overlord of sex and drugs struggled to stand upright and string together sentences after his first taste.

Her hands, still on Alastor's shoulders, slid to his chest to take his lapel.

“Okay.” She gave his coat a sharp tug to bring his attention to her. “I know it's a lot,” she cooed, mustering patience she didn't realize she had. His head lolled upright, slow and lazy as his eyes blinked open, unfocused but trying oh-so hard. ��Let's just find you your room and get you comfortable, yeah?”

Y/n watched his face, making sure he heard her. His brows scrunched together for a moment and, coupled with his tense grin, it looked like a pained grimace crossed his face. But he nodded through it. And if that wasn't signal enough, The Radio Demon's ears flicked harshly against his antlers.

Y/n sighed quietly in relief.

She turned them around and began guiding him toward the hall, tea and coffee forgotten. Alastor's feet dragged while Y/n got them to the doorway, flipping the lights off as she crossed the threshold.

The buck stopped dead in his tracks behind her.

Alastor really, really, wanted to eviscerate the woman holding his hand right now. She'd made him endure her attitude, her touch, and whatever the hell this intoxication was. Now she intends to parade him through the hotel like some show horse. He refused to allow that.

Y/n spun to face him -to reassure him- and was cut short when shadows suddenly grew around her. The dim hallway light that she intended to use as a guide back to the main residential floor, as well as the dark kitchen they had just come from, all faded instantaneously and the only thing she could see was a teetering Alastor in front of her.

Now her world spun. It felt like she was tumbling and falling through the air and she lurched to find the floor beneath her. Just before her knees gave out, the world rematerialized around her.

The hallway was longer and brighter, and much more familiar than the one she had just been in. She and Alastor were still straddling another door frame, this time with a door. It opened up into a pitch black room.

The darkness shrouded Alastor like a thick blanket. It hugged his shoulders, waist, hips, and swallowed him slowly until his glowing eyes were the only thing she could really see anymore. His eyes- and something else that glowed yellow-green, flickering lazily in the near distance behind him.

“Shadow travel. Cool.” She squinted to get a better look over his shoulder. “Look, maybe don't do that again until you're sober, okay. I don't doubt your abilities. I just-” The door slammed sharply in her face. Y/n blinked through the annoyance of being denied- and ignored. “I just don't trust mine.”

The doe stood outside the closed door for a moment and thought maybe she should stick around. To make sure he would be alright. To be sure everyone else wasn't in imminent danger. Though mostly, she was just curious to see more of the incapacitated Radio Overlord. His ear flicks from moments before were as equally endearing as they were concerning. And it was always quite the sight, seeing such powerful beings so vulnerable.

She quickly decided it wasn't worth loitering around in the open hallway for. Besides, there were only a few short hours left before she had to leave for work, and the adrenaline of the past couple minutes was wearing off. She was absolutely beat.

Y/n backed away from the door with a sigh, ready to make her way down the hallway towards her own room, when a shadow darted hurriedly across her path. Ears similar to hers, but parted by a pair of antlers. This shadow wasn't hers.

She froze, watched and waited. It only grinned at her.

Y/n blinked back.

“I'm going to sleep. I suggest you try and do the same.”

With an apologetic smile, the doe turned and finally made her way down the hallway, the grinning shadow looming close behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N- idk what it is but i LOVE writing my faves getting fUCKED up. anywhoooo, i wanna be so completely honest, these next few chapters are probably gonna take longer to write cause its going to be a lot of figuring out how/where my story's plotline lines up with the HH one. that being said, im SO FUCKING EXCITED for how this story is going to play out cause i got so many ideas, im just figuring out how to properly set us up for it all :D

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Masterlist :)

#hazbin fanfic #hazbin angst #hazbin hotel #hazbin reader insert #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin valentino #angel dust x reader #hurt/comfort #songfic #Youtube

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miodiodavinci · 10 months ago

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anyway as for the long and short of how i'm doing currently (mostly the long)

so two weeks ago i sprained my wrist at work lifting boxes, and it's been a slow recovery even with the help of a brace, stretches, rice buddies, and ice packs. i've had to basically put a lot of my hobbies on hold because i've been saving what little i can do with my wrist for all the job prep i need to do on the weekends (i.e. making flyers, updating spreadsheets, creating presentations, moving more boxes, etc...)

hobbies are even further on hold at this point because this last week i injured my shoulder as well, and i can feel that my ankle is getting ready to go with it. i'm doing what i can to minimize the damage (i.e. got a work cart, have had coworkers come with me to storage, actually sitting down and resting when i'm on break, etc...) but there's not a lot that can be done considering these are Core Aspects of my job and my contract goes until spring (and also like. whole complex situation where i can't leave without screwing over myself and a lot of people i care about)

it's a shit situation all around, but at the very least i'm getting paid a reasonable amount and it's covering my expenses jfgjksdhkfg

(though for all the work i do, god oh god i wish it was doing more than just covering my expenses)

having to take a break from my hobbies has put me in a weird headspace, though. or like it's less of a weird headspace and more that there's finally this pause that has me reevaluating what i want to do in my spare time

i've been consumed by work for the past like four years of my life, this last year was kind of the culmination of that. between completing my internship, finishing my degree, surviving The Horror (read: had a really, truly horrifying cancer scare last year), doing the yamaha collab, and taking care of the flurry of job-hunting stuff that needed to be done post-graduation, i don't know if i actually got a chance to so much as breathe until august

. . . . except in august i immediately collapsed and rotted the entire month away skjdfhgkhsdf

i'm burnt out, i think. like. genuinely, really severely burnt out. the more i think about it, the more i feel like i just need a year of doing nothing.

just. absolutely nothing.

which i've told myself in the past. several times. always in a big showy way. so much so that i feel silly saying it now because i've been saying it for years in the descriptions of my videos and in posts on my blog.

"i'm tired of being beholden to past me!! this year, i'm letting go of my expectations for myself and just doing what i want!!" (<< this user has said this at least 7 separate times and has failed to make good on it every single time)

but i think why i've never been able to follow through is because in spite of all the dropping projects that no longer interested me and not feeling obligated to see everything through, i still held on to the expectation that at the end of it, i'd still post something. but like.

i think posting doesn't really matter to me as much anymore??? if at all???

which isn't to say "i'm putting my foot down and never creating any new vocaloid work ever again," but it's also like. i can't let myself sit with the expectation of "yeah i'll just make things for fun!! and when they're done, i'll post them!!' because that changes the focus from making something for me into making something for others to see, which is. a different beast to care for skdjfgklhsdlfg

i keep seeing a lot of things where i have the opportunity to keep building on what rice and i were able to make as part of the yamaha collab: alternate box arts, matching galaco design, cool new english covers featuring bespoke cover art of the new designs but when i think of starting those, i feel utterly drained, and when i think of how i'll feel once they're finished, i imagine it'll be akin to "alright, i've checked that off the list. what's the next thing i should do not disappear and be a failure?"

. . . . . which is really, really separate from doing things as a hobby because they make me happy OTL

this past year i've really reconnected with my close friends (in part because i stopped having time to scroll online and didn't want anyone to know when i was online because i legitimately did not have the energy to respond) and i've noticed i really truly enjoy just batting around our ocs with each other so more than i've enjoyed any of the vocaloid work that i've put out in the past five years skjfghldkfg

i've been doing vocaloid things for over ten years now, and the collaboration with yamaha was quite literally something i couldn't have even dreamed of, much less imagined it would have just fallen into my lap the way it did. coming off the end of it and my internship though, there's this feeling that's been building for years now where it feels like the effort i put in is just not proportional to the satisfaction i get out of it. it feels more like something i'm supposed to do otherwise i'd just be squandering all the work i've put in and all the attention i've gotten.

. . . . . . i just want to live man 😂 i'm caught in a mental tangle that feels difficult to unravel. spring mio was at the end of his fucking rope, but fall mio is finally has the time to sit down with the slack and is wondering if it's worth it to keep pulling for all i'm worth when i can always just go over to my friend's house and have a funny little sleep over (metaphorical or literal both apply)

i'm not decided by any means but i'm definitely thinking about it.

it's the fact that it's been 2 years since i've released salvador, and i went into it thinking i'd be cool and professional about it, with lots of covers and frequent updates because i used to make lots of UTAU covers in high school, but then i got paralyzed by all the "shoulds" wrapped up in the process and i just. stopped working.

when i say i want to make X cover of Y song, am i really saying that i want to go out of my way to do all these things?? or am i just imagining what momentary satisfaction i'll feel to see another thumbnail on my channel??

...

(face in hands) this ended up being. a lot fucking longer than i meant for it to be jksdfhlkghsdkfg

hopefully most people have clicked away by this point w

it's the tear between the things i genuinely want (making things with friends that stay between us friends) the things i kind of want out of necessity (opening up commissions so i can supplement my income), the things i said i'd do and can't back out now on, and the things i told myself i would do but can't really must up plenty of positive emotions about (but can feel plenty of frightful, guilty emotions when i think of not doing them)

i'll figure it out eventually. even in the worst case scenario, i plan to keep my accounts up as archives, so it's not like my work will go anywhere w i'd still want it to be there once i decide i'm ready to come back to it w

#hi sorry this became incredibly long #tl;dr: i injured myself at work and having to force myself to rest has made me think about my relationship to my voca work #other tl;dr being 'oh god im severely burnt out i need to stop thinking about posting and just take a break from being online fr fr'#nothing's happening immediately so no one panic or anything w #i figure i'll figure it out once my contract ends and i can feel human again . . . . . . .

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florexyy · 2 months ago

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐬, 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 / 𝐍𝐢-𝐊𝐢

𝟏𝟏. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝

Genre: Enemies to lovers, a bit of smau Pairing: ni-ki x fem!reader WC: 3.5K Warnings(TBU!): profanity, slow burnish, y/n & riki have an attitude problem, might contain bad grammar and may be illogical sometimes. Taglist౨ৎ: @yunjica @flockskiii (Open<3)

a/n: Hi guys! Since ive been gone for some time i decided to feed you with a longer chapter this time! also more interactions between riki and y/n hope youll like the little change in the atmosphere between them hehe<3

༻꧁✬꧂༺

⇝16.09.22⇜ ♫ 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠...Tamed-Dashed

Day 1

Y/N shouldve said no.

The second Nao-mi mentioned "vacation" she shouldve backed out with some made up excuse. Sick grandmother. Last minute family thing. Alien abduction.

Anything but this.

Because now, stuck in the backseat with Riki sitting next to her, legs brushing way too often for comfort, she was wondering if shed ever be able to breathe normally again.

He hadnt said a word since they left the city. Just scrolled through his phone, earbuds in, pretending she didnt exist.

Perfect. Just how she liked it.

Except not really. Because ever since that one stupid night when someone posted a blurry photo of them outside heeseungs house, him helping her walk, faces too close, tension too sharp, its still on her mind and apparently on everyone elses too.

Gross.

They werent dating. They werent even friends.

But now everyone treated them like they were. Teased them. Whispered about them in the halls. Even their teachers raised eyebrows. Nothing new at that point.

So they agreed on one thing: distance. Avoid each other. Pretend the other did't exist, like they had talked about on the rooftop that one day.

Until now.

"Okay!" Nao-mi chirped from the front seat, full of vacation energy and unaware doom. "ETA: thirty minutes! We will set up the tents before sunset."

"Tents?" Y/N asked, eyeing her through the mirror. "As in plural?"

"Yeah," Nao-mi said. "One for me and Minji, one for you and Riki and the other one for Mom and Dad obviously."

Y/N choked. "What?!"

"I brought four, but the zipper on the fourth one is busted. You guys dont mind, right?"

Y/N turned to Riki. He pulled out one earbud, raised an eyebrow like 'this is your problem, not mine,' and went back to ignoring her.

Great.

The car doors slammed shut one after the other, echoing in the salty air. Y/N stepped out and immediately squinted against the glare bouncing off the ocean in the distance. The breeze was cold, even with the sun out, and it carried the faint scent of seaweed and pine.

"Okay!" Their mom clapped her hands as she stepped out of the drivers side. "Lets unload fast before the wind starts throwing everything down the cliff."

Y/N grabbed her backpack and a folded up camping chair, then turned around and almost ran into Riki.

He didnt move. Just stood there like a stone in her way, sunglasses on, chewing a piece of gum like he was in a music video.

"Move, idiot" she demanded.

He stared at her for a second too long, then slowly stepped aside. "Then go you dumbass" he said flatly.

She rolled her eyes and walked past him, muttering, "Try not being a dick for once."

He didnt respond. She didnt need him to. His entire existence was irritating enough.

The campsite was set in a dip between tall trees, with a rocky path leading to the beach. The parents had brought way too much gear tables, folding chairs, coolers, a grill, even lanterns with color settings.

Y/N started helping Nao-mi set up the tents. Riki, meanwhile, walked straight over to the firewood pile and sat on top of it, scrolling through his phone.

"Must be exhausting being that useless" Y/N said loud enough for him to hear.

"Sorry, couldnt hear you over the sound of me minding my business" he said without looking up.

"Guys" Nao-mi cut in, already exasperated. "Dont even start. Its only the first hour."

They didnt start. Not out loud.

But later, as Y/N carried the tent poles over to the clearing, she stepped forward and her foot caught something hard and deliberate.

She tripped.

Not a full fall, but enough to stumble and almost drop everything.

Riki, sitting just off to the side, didnt even bother hiding the satisfied twitch of his mouth. "Oops."

Y/N turned slowly, set the poles down like she was trying not to snap them in half. "Are you serious?"

"What?" he said. "I was just sitting here."

"You stuck your foot out."

"No proof." He shrugged.

Nao-mi sighed from across the clearing. "I swear to god, if you guys make me referee this trip, Im sleeping in the car."

After Lunch they walked down the path to the beach, shoes crunching over sand and crushed shells. The air was cooler near the water. Y/N zipped her jacket up to her chin and stuck her hands in her pockets. She tried to stay near Nao-mi, but Riki kept appearing near her peripheral like a bad TV rerun.

Down at the shore, Nao-mi and Minji started throwing rocks into the water. Y/N found a flat boulder and sat down to watch.

Then water splashed up, soaking her left side.

She froze. The cold hit her like a slap.

She turned. Riki stood nearby with wet hands and an innocent look that fooled no one.

"You-"

He held up both arms. "Didnt even touch you."

"You kicked water at me."

"Can you prove it?"

"Youre so immature."

"Stop crying."

She looked down at her pants. They clung to her leg now, freezing and damp. "Im going to throw you in."

"Id like to see you try."

"I will. In your sleep."

"Better make it quick. I sleep with one eye open."

Nao-mi was twenty feet away, clearly pretending not to hear them.

Y/N grabbed a towel from the supply bag and stormed back toward camp.

By dinner, the wind had picked up and the fire was blazing. Everyone gathered around with mismatched plates full of grilled meat and steamed rice wrapped in foil.

Y/N sat wrapped in a blanket, still annoyed about the water incident and now freezing despite being dry.

Riki sat across the fire from her, chewing like he had no soul behind his eyes.

Nao-mi nudged her under the blanket. "You know he only does it because you react."

"Thats not true," Y/N muttered. "He does it because hes annoying and childish."

"Okay, but you give him a reaction."

"I literally didnt do anything. I was sitting."

Nao-mi gave her a look. "You exist loudly."

Y/N threw a rice cracker at her and missed.

That night, after everyone went to bed, Y/N laid in the tent she was stuck sharing with Riki because one of the other zippers was broken and his mom had said, "Youre older. Youll manage."

She faced the opposite side, back to him, jaw clenched.

He hadnt said anything. No gloating. No teasing. Just climbed into the sleeping bag on the other side and turned away too.

Silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the wind outside and the distant waves.

She waited for a comment.

It never came.

Day 2

The seagulls were screaming again and Y/N had barely gotten five hours of sleep. The tent had been freezing, and Rikis snoring had been loud enough to make her question whether he did it on purpose.

She got up stiffly, shoved on a hoodie, and tried not to look in his direction.

He was already gone.

After a rushed breakfast of instant noodles and boiled eggs, Nao-mi clapped her hands together. "Alright! Activity time!"

Y/N groaned. "Cant we just sit and rot for a bit?"

"Nope." Nao-mi beamed. "We are going canoeing."

Y/N blinked. "What."

Nao-mi grinned. "We reserved spots at that river cove. Its calm water. Family safe. Barely any current."

"Still water," Nao-mi added. "You cant even drown unless you try."

Y/N was already regretting everything.

They drove fifteen minutes to a small cove tucked behind a line of pine trees. The water was still and glossy, reflecting the sky like a mirror. A row of brightly colored canoes sat tied to a small dock, and a sunburned guy in a bucket hat gave everyone a five minute safety talk none of them really listened to.

"Pairs" Nao-mi said, grabbing paddles. "Me and Minji, cuz i have to babysit her. Mom and Dad. That leaves..."

Y/N froze. "No."

"Come on" Nao-mi said, already dragging a canoe to the water. "You and Riki are the lightest. Balance."

"Id rather swim back to camp."

"You might, the way you paddle."

Y/N turned and found Riki already standing next to her with a life jacket halfway on.

"Try not to slow me down" he said.

She yanked her straps tighter. "Try not to drown."

At first, it wasnt that bad.

The canoe wobbled as they pushed off, but they managed to stay upright. The cove was quiet except for the sound of water lapping against the boats. The air smelled like moss and wood.

Nao-mi and Minji were already ten feet ahead, paddling in perfect sync like they practiced for this, even tho Nao-mi did most of the work..

Y/N and Riki?

Not so much.

"Youre leaning too much left" he said.

"No, Im paddling."

"Youre paddling wrong."

"How does someone paddle wrong?"

"Youre splashing more than youre moving."

Y/N clenched her teeth. "Then do it yourself, king of the boats."

"Oh my god." He stopped paddling completely. "Just. Copy. My. Rhythm."

She started paddling deliberately out of sync, on purpose.

The canoe veered sharply to the right, almost colliding with a low branch.

Riki turned halfway around. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Honestly?" Y/N said, digging her paddle into the water. "If this thing flips, Im blaming you."

"Great. Then you wont mind if I-"

His paddle jabbed a little too far on the left.

The canoe tilted.

They both tried to correct it at the same time - she shifted right, he shifted left.

Bad call.

The canoe flipped.

Water surged in.

And in half a second, both of them were underwater.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Y/N came up coughing, barely able to hold herself up, water in her nose, her life jacket was deflating.

Fuck.

She cant swim.

Y/N hit the water hard. Cold rushed into her ears and mouth at once. Her lungs clenched. The life jacket shouldve helped. It was supposed to help. But the panic had already taken hold before she surfaced.

When she came up, gasping, her head barely broke through the surface. Water rushed into her nose and down her throat, stinging deep.

Her arms flailed, too wild, too heavy. The jacket bobbed her up, but not enough. Not steady. Every breath she tried to take came with a mouthful of river. Her legs kicked uselessly beneath her, but she couldnt feel the bottom. Couldnt find air fast enough.

The world above was noise shouts, splashing, someone calling her name but it felt distant. Muffled. All she could hear was the rush of her own blood pounding and the thundering thought: I cant breathe.

She tipped sideways in the water, coughing hard. Her arms couldnt stay above her head anymore. The current pulled just enough to throw off her balance, tugging her under again for a second too long.

Thats when she panicked.

She jolted her head back, gasping, eyes wide.

"Y/N?" someone yelled. Closer this time.

Her name again. Louder.

A hand grabbed her shoulder.

It was Riki

"Stop moving" he said quickly. "Youre pulling yourself under."

She didnt answer. Just choked on another gasp.

"Hey- hey, look at me."

She did.

"Youre not going under, okay? Ive got you."

One of his arms hooked under her armpits from behind, steadying her. He shifted, holding her up with the awkward, clumsy strength.

"You good?" he asked, quieter now.

She nodded once, teeth clenched, breath shallow.

His voice dropped again. "You shouldve told someone you couldnt swim."

She closed her eyes. "Didnt think youd actually make us fall in!"

He pushed wet hair out of his face and pointed. "You leaned!"

"You pushed!"

"You yanked the canoe like you were trying to capsize it!"

"Oh, so now Im stronger than physics?"

Behind them, Nao-mi and Minji had turned their canoe around and were howling with laughter. their parents were paddling closer, trying very hard not to laugh. They didnt see what had happened just now.

Their dad just shouted from the shoreline, "Are you guys okay what happened?"

They clung to opposite ends of the canoe, glaring over the hull.

"Remind me to never be alone in a boat with you again," she said.

"Gladly. Next time, bring a helmet."

"Next time, bring a second brain cell."

"Ha. Hilarious."

This trip was only getting worse.

Day 3

By day three, Y/N had finally dried out physically, not emotionally.

The canoe incident still sat heavy in her memory. Not just the fear, but the weird way Riki had actually helped her. Like, no jokes. No smirking. Just pulled her up and made sure she didnt sink like a rock. Then pretended none of it happened.

Which would've been fine.. except now it was awkward. He hadn't mentioned it. She hadnt either. They just avoided eye contact and continued their mutual existence as two halves of a very dysfunctional coin.

So when Nao-mi said, "We are doing a picnic near the meadow," Y/N jumped at the idea of any distraction.

The meadow sat just beyond the campgrounds, past a short walk through pine trees. It opened up into a wide clearing with tall grass, scattered wildflowers, and the occasional bug that wanted to ruin your life. The wind was softer here. The kind that made everything feel like a lazy afternoon painting.

Rikis mom had laid out a giant blanket. Everyone else unpacked snacks, drinks, and the prize: a round chocolate cake in a clear plastic box.

"We found it at that tiny store near the road," Minji said, practically bouncing. "The one that smelled like cat food and lavender? Its homemade."

"Looks good" Y/N said, kneeling by the box. "Please tell me this isnt carrot cake disguised as chocolate."

"Its real," Nao-mi promised. "We already sampled a piece."

Y/N took her slice with the corner piece the one with extra whipped cream on top and settled on the edge of the blanket, finally feeling halfway normal.

Until he sat next to her.

Riki. Plate in one hand, fork in the other, wearing a smug look like he was planning something.

Y/N didnt say anything. Just scooted exactly two inches away.

He noticed. Of course.

"You always act like sitting near me is gonna infect you," he said.

"Im just being cautious," she said without looking. "Youve got toxic behavior."

He didnt respond immediately. Then, out of nowhere, she caught movement from the side of her vision.

He dipped his finger into the whipped cream on his plate.

"Oh no" she said instantly. "Dont even-"

Too late.

He reached over and smeared it straight across her cheek. Not a little dab. A full swipe. Whipped cream right under her eye and across her jaw.

The entire picnic paused.

Y/N froze.

Riki leaned back like he'd just dropped a masterpiece. "You had a smudge."

"Youre dead."

She stood up, cake plate still in hand.

"No violence at the picnic" their mom called from the other blanket.

Y/N didnt care. She looked down at her slice then up at Riki then down again.

And launched it.

The cake hit him square in the face. A direct, full contact splat. Whipped cream, frosting, crumbs everywhere.

Gasps. Shrieks. Laughter.

He sat there, stunned, blinking cake out of his eyelashes.

Y/N crossed her arms. "Oh no, you had a smudge."

Riki wiped frosting from his nose. "You just started a war."

"Ill finish it too."

Everyone else lost it some cheering, some groaning, and Nao-mi already grabbing her phone. "This is gold. Do it again!"

Riki wiped his hands on a napkin, stood up slowly, and started scanning the dessert table.

"Dont" Y/N warned. "You dont want this"

"Oh I do."

Nao-mi, mouth full of chips, yelled, "Okay but dont waste all the cake, we paid for that-"

Too late.

Riki grabbed a leftover cupcake. Y/N grabbed a half-empty whipped cream can.

And all hell broke loose.

By the time they got back to camp, the sun had started to dip behind the tree line. Everything was golden warm light catching on leaves, long shadows stretching across the tents but none of that made up for the fact that Y/N still had dried whipped cream in her ear.

"Go rinse off at the pump," Rikis mom said, not even looking up as she unpacked leftover snacks. "Both of you. Now"

"Do not drag dirt inside the tents" Nao-mi added. "If I find frosting on my sleeping bag, I swear-"

"We got it" Y/N mumbled.

She trudged off toward the little outdoor faucet near the side of camp, hearing Rikis steps behind her like an annoying echo.

The pump had one old metal sink and a bucket underneath it. She turned the handle and ice cold water blasted out with a screech.

She stuck her head under it with a wince.

"Dont drown again," Riki said behind her.

She didnt respond. Just shook the water out like a soaked dog, whipping droplets in his direction.

He flinched. "Seriously?"

"You started it."

"You threw cake in my face."

"You finger painted on mine."

He opened his mouth, probably to say something dumb, but stopped. Instead, he dipped his hands into the bucket and started rinsing off the crusted frosting down his neck.

They stood there in silence for a moment. Just the trickle of water, distant laughter from the rest of the family, and the awkward realization that maybe they went too far today.

Y/N looked over.

Rikis cheeks were pink from scrubbing. His hoodie was splattered with frosting. His hair was sticking up weird in the back.

She almost laughed.

Almost.

"Youre a mess," she muttered.

He glanced over. "So are you."

Day 4

The last day came slower than the others.

No alarms. No yelling. Just the low hum of waves rolling onto the shore and the soft rustle of wind through tent flaps.

Y/N woke up to golden light filtering through canvas. She stayed in her sleeping bag longer than usual, not because she was tired just because everything felt.. calm.

For once.

No water fights. No whipped cream sneak attacks. No nearly drowning. Just sun and quiet.

Later on they set up on the beach with towels, coolers, and foldable chairs. The parents napped with sunglasses on. Nao-mi and Minji sprawled out near the rocks, taking selfies and having their big and little sister moment.

Y/N sat cross legged in the sand, drawing lazy lines with a stick, watching the waves creep up the shore and pull back again. Her hoodie was tied around her waist. The breeze smelled clean, like salt and driftwood.

She didn't even notice Riki had sat next to her until he nudged her foot.

She looked over. "What."

He didn't look at her. Just stared at the water. "We didnt fight today."

"Yet."

"You planning something?"

She shrugged. "You usually give me a reason."

He smirked a little. "Im pacing myself."

They sat in silence for a minute.

A few gulls cawed overhead. Someone cracked open a can behind them. Nao-mi was shouting something about sunscreen.

Y/N poked at the sand again, not really sure why she felt so restless. Or why she couldnt stop glancing sideways at him.

After a moment, Riki leaned back on his elbows and said, "You know, about the water thing."

She tensed slightly, swallowing tighly.

"I wasnt gonna let you sink" he added, still looking out at the ocean. "Just so you know."

Y/N exhaled slowly. "I know."

Silence again.

"Why didnt you say something? About not swimming."

She picked at the edge of her sneaker. "Because its embarrassing?"

He didnt answer right away. Just nodded once.

"It wasnt."

She blinked.

"Embarrassing" he clarified, still not looking at her. "It wasnt."

Her throat felt tight for a second. Not emotional. Just.. surprised.

"I didnt say thank you," she muttered.

He shrugged. "Didnt expect you to."

"Well. Thanks."

He looked at her then, just briefly. "Dont get soft on me now."

"Please. Id still throw a cupcake at you."

He smiled. It wasnt smug this time. Just tired. Genuine.

The kind of smile you give someone when youre not trying to win.

Y/N looked away first.

But her mouth twitched.

༻꧁✬꧂༺

The campsite looked different when it was being taken apart.

Where there had been life shoes scattered, chairs knocked over, coolers cracked open there was now quiet organization. Tents collapsed into bags. Trash tied up. The fire pit filled with sand. The kind of silence that happens when something ends and everyone knows it, but no one says it.

Y/N zipped up her hoodie and stood there for a moment, staring at the flattened grass where her tent had been. Her hoodie smelled like smoke. Her hair was a little tangled from the cooling wind.

It felt like theyd been here for weeks. Not four days.

Someone honked. The trunks were already being loaded. Nao-mi was chasing a missing sandal, shouting about how the forest "ate it."

Y/N started toward the car, lugging her bag with both hands, when Riki passed her.

He didnt say anything. Just reached out, took the bag from her shoulder, and tossed it in the back like it weighed nothing.

She blinked. "Okay. Thanks, I guess." She raised a brow.

He didnt look at her. "Consider it repayment for the cake you wasted."

"You deserved it."

"Still hurts."

She smirked a little. "Good."

༻꧁✬꧂༺

The car rumbled steadily down the highway. Mountains gave way to scattered suburbs. The beach was far behind them now, just a memory fading into the rearview mirror.

In the backseat, Riki had leaned against the window, hood up, one leg crossed over the other like he owned the entire row. Y/N had her earbuds in but wasnt playing anything. Just letting the silence between them stretch.

It wasnt awkward, tho.

She glanced at him. His hand was resting close, too close, on the seat between them.

She nudged it with her knuckle.

He didnt look at her. Just flexed his fingers like it was nothing. Then flicked her hand lightly.

She pulled it back and gave him a look.

"Still mad about the cake?" he said quietly, eyes on the ceiling.

"Youre really bringing this up again?" She scoffed.

"Obviously." He shrugged.

"You got what you deserved."

He cracked a lazy smile. "I admit, it was good aim though."

"I threw it at your head. Of course it was good." She said proudly.

Silence again.

"Youre not as awful as I thought" she said, almost like she hadnt meant to say it out loud, instantly regretting it.

Riki blinked. Turned his head a little toward her. "Youre not as annoying as I know you are."

She laughed slightly.

Outside, trees blurred past. The car dipped over a hill, Y/N turned to look outside.

The sunset was beautiful today.

She thought this trip was not worth it when they first arrived, but now, she actually kinda liked it.

Or maybe even enjoyed it.

Who knows.

⇜Last part ❀ Next Part⇝

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multi-fandom-of-madness · 2 years ago

Text

Like You Love Me

Pairings: Aether X Rain - implied Poly!Ghouls

Type: Smut

Summary: Rain is still fairly new, but he knows what he likes. He gets it from everyone except for Aether, and he’s determined to change that.

Warnings: Rain is a brat, dom!Aether, sub!Rain, rough oral, degradation, objectification,

Word Count: 1,719

Notes: Read here on ao3. This isn't edited, so I'm sorry if there are typos.

Rain loved Aether dearly. He loved everything about the quintessence ghoul, but especially how sweet he was to him. If he wanted it rough, he had his options. He had Dewdrop who he could throw around and ruin, Swiss or Cirrus if he wanted to challenge who was in charge, or Mountain if he wanted to be fucked so hard that he melts into the matress.

But Aether was so gentle and caring. He never wanted to hurt Rain in any way. There was the occasional teasing, maybe a bite mark here and there, but it always was slow and sensual.

Aether didn’t feel like he knew the in’s and out’s of Rain well enough to bring him into something kinkier. He’d only been topside for a few months, and for the first month or so, Rain was too shy to make any advances. Although he’s seen the way Rain acts with the others, he doesn’t want to push it and break the bond that they’ve grown.

Don’t get the water ghoul wrong, he loves the special treatment, but hearing about how he collared Swiss and pulled him around as he pleased, watching Dewdrop shift in his seat to try and get comfortable with the bruises on his ass, or how Mountain always comes back with a goofy grin and a limp in his step…he gets a bit jealous.

They’re curled up in Aether’s bed, Aether reading a book and Rain scrolling through his phone, head on Aether’s chest and pressed stubbornly to his hip. The minute Aether slipped off his shirt and slipped on his reading glasses, Rain’s cock began to chub up. No one could resist Aether when he looked like that.

“Why don’t you treat me like the others?” He asks, not looking up from the video on his phone.

Aether blinks. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

“You just asked the vaguest question, and aren’t going to explain?”

Rain sighed and rolled over dramatically. “Why don’t you rail me into next week?”

“What the hell are you on?”

“Nothing yet,” Rain huffed. “Can’t you just…throw me around? Rough me up a bit?”

“I thought you liked me being gentle with you.”

“I do. But I would also like to be fucked into next week.”

“Where is this coming from?” Aether asked, pulling his glasses off. His cock was twitching with the implications of what Rain was implying.

“Just…I dunno…jealous?”

“Of what?”

“Oh don’t act like you don’t grin every time you see Dewdrop struggling to sit right for a week after one of your little escapades.” “So you want me to…punish you?” He inquired, a joking tone to his voice.

“Well I mean…have I done anything wrong?”

“You interrupted my reading for no good reason other than the fact that you’re thinking with your dick.”

“I feel like that shouldn’t count.”

“I feel like you’re acting like Dew,” Aether countered.

Oh. Rain grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Am I?”

“You’re starting to,” Aether sighed, putting his glasses back on and turning his attention back to his book. So he was going to ignore Rain? Well, that simply won’t do.

Rain laid back down, kicking up a purr to lure Aether into a false sense that Rain wasn’t going to try anything. After a few minutes of comfortable silence he lifted his head to be level with Aether’s plush stomach and…

“Did you just fucking bite me?” Aether asked, amused.

Rain pulled off and frowned, sitting up. “That doesn’t get a reaction out of you?”

“You didn’t even draw blood,” Aether pointed out.

“Come onnnnnn…I want you to make me get all slutty. Don’t you like it when I’m slutty?” Rain begged with a joking tone.

“Are you sure you aren’t in heat? Do I need to get Mountain in here?”

“You are no fun.” Rain crosses his arms and pouts, his tail thumping against the bed for extra dramatic effect.

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” Aether said sympathetically, tilting his head.

“But I want you to hurt me.”

“You really do love to run your mouth,” Aether scowled. Rain grinned when he realized that he was finally getting somewhere.

“Maybe I do. I like the sound of my own voice,” he paused, giving himself enough time to straddle the quintessence ghoul, rolling his hips against him.

“Are you just going to be a brat to get what you want?” Aether asked, putting his hands on Rain’s hips, using his own strength to move the water ghoul.

“Is it gonna work?”

“In some ways.”

“Then yes.”

Rain grinned, leaning down to kiss Aether. Aether ran a hand up his back, grabbing at the back of his neck, causing Rain to moan. The moment Rain’s mouth opens, Aether slips his tongue inside.

Rain squirms on top of him, trying to get some sort of friction on his cock. There’s a slight fight for dominance that Rain quickly loses. Just because he wants to be roughed up doesn’t mean he can’t pretend to pose a challenge.

“Aeth, ple-”

“Nuh uh, baby boy. I don’t want to hear my name come out of your mouth right now,” Aether cuts, his tone of voice dropping to something more demanding.

Rain swallows thickly, realizing he was finally getting his wish. He rolls his hips with a groan. “Sir,” he tries again. Aether doesn’t stop him, so he continues. “Please, sir…please fuck me,” he breaths, lowering his head to Aether’s neck. He nips at it, and Aether scruffs him, forcing him to go boneless.

Aether rolls the water ghoul off of him, then stands up, looking at Rain expectantly. “Well?”

Rain looks back confused. “What do you want me to do?”

Aether walks back towards the bed, taking Rain’s chin in his hand gently before firming his grip almost hard enough to bruise. Rain looks at him like he hung the stars. “Get on the floor. On your knees. If you want me to fuck you, then we’re going to do it my way,” he growls.

Rain is already loving this new side of Aether, but he’s determined to see more, so he doesn’t move.

“On your knees,” Aether growls again, baring his fangs slightly and shaking Rain’s head. When Rain doesn’t move again, Aether moves his hand into his hair, then pulls.

Rain groans and rolls his hips forward as his cock kicks from the sensation. “Please…” he groans, closing his eyes.

Aether uses his grip on his hair to throw Rain on the floor. He lets go of him long enough to pull his cock out from his sweatpants. “Open your mouth,” he commands.

Rain’s head is swimming in ecstasy. He doesn’t even hear Aether speak until there’s a hand on his jaw, prying it apart, and a cock pressed to his lips.

“Since you can’t keep that pretty mouth shut, I’m going to make sure you can’t use it. If you need to, tap my thigh twice for me to stop.”

Rain moans in acknowledgement, snaking his tongue out to lap at the pre beading at the tip of Aether’s dick. Aether groans as Rain pushes his lips down Aether’s cock, closing his eyes and humming from the taste.

Aether gives Rain a moment to work his magic, then grabs hold of Rain’s horns and thrusts into him. Rain chokes at the unexpected motion and looks up at Aether with teary eyes. He pulls Rain down until his nose is pressed against Aether’s pubes.

Aether holds him there for a second as Rain gags and sputters around Aether’s cock. Rain brings a hand to Aether’s thigh and taps twice.

“Are you alright?” Aether asks.

“Y-yeah,” Rain croaks out, trying to find his voice. He’s panting and tears are streaking down his cheeks. “Just need to breathe,” he laughs.

Aether hums in acknowledgement. “Take your time. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Rain nods and catches his breath. He takes a few minutes, then looks up at Aether. “I’m ready,” he says, opening his mouth.

Aether pets through Rain’s hair then grabs hold of one of Rain’s horns again. He starts off gently this time, small shallow thrusts that hardly graze the back of Rain’s throat. Rain moans and shuts his eyes, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through Aether’s body.

The sensation causes Aether to push his hips into Rain’s mouth, making Rain gag around him. “Shit,” Aether groans, “I should’ve fucked your mouth ages ago. So fucking good.”

Rain does his best to relax his throat and breathe through his nose. He feels nothing but Aether. The sight of him, taste of him, smell of him. Everything is Aether. He’s absolutely intoxicating, and it makes his cock throb in his sweatpants. He brings a hand down to the front of his sweats where they’ve darkened with the amount of precum and slick leaking out of Rain.

Aether finds leverage before using his foot to kick his hand away, pulling out so that only the tip of his cock rests on Rain’s tongue. “I never told you to touch yourself,” he growls. Rain gives an apologetic look and hums. Aether scoffs and harshly thrusts into Rain’s mouth, his balls slapping against Rain’s chin. “Hands behind your back.”

Rain can’t do anything but sit there and let his mouth be used as he crosses his arms behind his back. He blinks away the tears in his eyes and stares at Aether’s blissed out face. He can feel the spit leak out of his mouth, feels his shirt getting wet from the way it drips down.

“Lucifer, you look so pretty like this,” he says. “Is this what you wanted? Wanted me to rough you up? Throw you around like a little doll?”

Rain tried to nod, but found it impossible with Aether’s grip on his horns and cock down his throat. He hummed in response as Aether pulled him back down his cock again, cumming without warning.

He kept Rain pressed tight against him until he was sure Rain swallowed everything. Rain tapped his thigh twice, and Aether let him pull off, a string of saliva attached from the tip of Aether’s cock to his lips.

“Please-” he gasps, “wanna be your doll.”

“Good,” Aether smirks. “On the bed. I’m not done with you yet.”

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