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superprofesh · 3 months

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The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 5

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The fifth time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — when you finally decide you've waited long enough to tell him what he means to you.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.5k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)

Author’s Note: Things are heating up!!! As you can tell, this chapter is a bit longer, and I can promise you, it's got a lot of good stuff in it :D By far my favorite chapter to write so far. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have, and I appreciate all your kind words and support so much!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A week after you’ve made an official friendship declaration with Colt Seavers, you’re back on the dim, grimy underground train station set, getting ready to watch him throw himself in front of a moving train.

At the moment, Colt is standing on the other side of the train tracks, and you’re watching him from a considerable distance across the set. You have every reason to be there — this is the set you’ve been working on day and night for the last month, after all — but you’re not the least bit worried about any of your props or decorations. All you care about is making sure Colt pulls off one of his most dangerous stunts yet.

It’s been a strange week for you. On one hand, you’re glad that Colt knows you have some feelings for him, and that your friendship has been able to carry on without becoming awkward. His sincere, unexpected apology only made your feelings stronger, but you’re trying to ignore that.

All the same, being “just friends” is the slowest, most excruciating torture you’ve ever known. For one whole week, Colt has not done a single thing that could be interpreted as overly flirtatious, just as he promised he wouldn’t so you could be spared the pain. No subtle touches, no saucy looks, no double-edged words. It’s kind of him, really.

It also hurts like a razorblade on a third-degree burn.

Still, it’s better than nothing. As long as you can have him in your life in some way, you’re satisfied to try to quell these overwhelming feelings that threaten to break free at any moment. You’re in love with him — you know that now if you never knew it before — but you just have to be content knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way. That you have to love him as you’d love a friend.

So here you are, being a supportive friend as he casts himself headfirst into a dangerous situation. This stunt involves standing in for the film’s star, Tom Ryder, whose character is supposed to be shackled to a railroad track directly in the path of a moving train, only to break free just in time. Colt’s job is to pretend to be shackled down and jump up in plenty of time to clear the path of the moving train, which is, to your great dismay, not a prop in the slightest.

As the camera crew makes their last arrangements to start filming this shot, Colt turns from fiddling with a handcuff prop to catch your eyes in the crowd that has gathered to watch. He smiles when he sees you, lifting a hand in greeting and throwing his trademark thumbs-up high above his head.

Your heart speeds up at the sight of Colt’s smile, and you wave back at him in what you hope is an encouraging manner.

“Hey, relax,” a female voice says in your ear. You turn to see Holly grinning at you as she walks back to the cameras that are already in position. “He’s done this kind of thing a million times.”

You cut your eyes at her with a smirk. “I’m not worried,” you insist.

Holly lifts both eyebrows and laughs at you, always able to read what you’re really thinking. You laugh with her, glad to feel the knot in your stomach loosening a little. Holly gives your hand a quick squeeze in encouragement before taking her place at the lead camera station.

When you look back at the set, Colt is already in position, crouched down on one knee with his hands behind his back. You know he’s not actually tied down, but even seeing the fake handcuffs almost makes you wish you hadn’t come to watch.

Elijah Gordon, the director, is shouting some instructions at the crew as they make their last-minute preparations. He’s already cued the train to start moving, as it takes nearly half a mile to get the desired speed for the shot.

“One minute, people!” Gordon bellows, situating himself on a camera dolly high enough that he can see the action below. “We’re doing this in one take, or we’re not doing it at all. Colt, remember I want it to look real!”

Colt grins up at Gordon, his face smeared with fake dirt and his teeth shining like a white band through the grime. “It is real, Gordon!”

Gordon gives a curt nod, then listens to a voice over the walkie-talkie. Though your mind is focused on watching Colt, you can’t help the creeping disdain that you always feel when it comes to Elijah Gordon. The man is a phenomenal director, but he’s also the most callous, self-centered, inconsiderate person you’ve ever known. Knowing Colt’s life is more or less in Gordon’s hands makes you feel queasy.

The train whistle pierces the echoey tunnel chamber, and Gordon lifts his megaphone to shout, “Roll cameras!”

You put both hands over your mouth, dreading having to watch the scene play out. Colt looks entirely confident where he kneels on the railroad track, but you can’t help wondering what he feels in moments like this. Does he get scared? Does he lose faith in his own abilities? Does he ever doubt that the stunt will work perfectly? Can he afford to think like that?

A second train whistle stabs your ears, and you can feel your heart beating faster than ever before. You feel like you’re the one lingering on the tracks.

You can see the train now, and your eyes flit back to Colt, whose face is mostly hidden by the bandanna tied around his forehead. His muscles are tensed, ready to spring away at the perfect second. Gordon is shouting directions, his voice barely audible above the racket of the approaching train. He holds up his hand high in the air, signaling to Colt to stay in position.

The train eats up another hundred feet. Two hundred. Three hundred. Five hundred. Gordon’s hand doesn’t budge, and Colt keeps his eyes on the director for his cue to move.

You can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears, and it takes all your willpower not to screw your eyes shut. You keep them open as if caught in a trance, bouncing back and forth between Colt and the train as if you’re watching a tennis match.

The train rumbles closer and closer, now near enough that you can see the face of the man driving the engine. You hold your breath, waiting for Gordon to throw his hand down in a signal to Colt.

But Gordon’s hand doesn’t move. Another screeching whistle. The train is less than a hundred yards away now.

You know he should have given Colt the signal by now — you were there for the days of blocking and planning that went into this scene. Suddenly your lungs constrict as you realize Gordon is pushing Colt for a few more seconds on the tracks, long enough to make the film audiences gasp.

“Stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs, but your voice is drowned out by the roar of the train. Your feet are carrying you in a sprint before you even register your own movement. Two hundred feet away now.

“Gordon, stop it!” The director can’t hear you, but Holly does, whirling around and grabbing you by both arms to stop you from getting any closer to the set. You can see Colt’s eyes get wider as he realizes that Gordon isn’t lowering his arm.

Everything in your entire being is shuddering, wanting to shut down, wanting to scream, to explode into action, but Holly beckons for two other crew members to help hold you back. All you can do is watch as the train draws closer and Colt waits for Gordon’s signal. One hundred feet.

“Holly, make him stop!” you scream at your friend, whose distressed expression tells you you’re not alone in your confused panic.

At the last second, with the train less than fifty feet away, Gordon throws his hand down, and Colt is already in motion, somersaulting off the track and into the safety zone as the train — all forty tons of it — whizzes over the space that Colt occupied seconds ago.

Holly and her two crew members hold you back a second longer, and when the red light on the camera flickers off, you break past them and run as fast as you can onto the set. You can barely see where to step as you climb over the platform and down into the dingy, darkened train tunnel, tears blurring your vision and your pulse hammering in your ears.

Colt is leaning against the wall of the tunnel, his face as white as a ghost. Several crew members have already gathered around him, but you shove past them and throw your arms around his neck, uncaring of what anyone might think. You can feel Colt trembling in your arms even as his easygoing voice whispers in your ear, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Once you’re satisfied that he really is alive, you pull back, framing his face in your hands and searching his eyes with what you know must be a crazed look. Colt doesn’t say anything more; the color is slowly returning to his face, and his nerves are calming down now that the adrenaline wears off. He doesn’t, however, loosen his grip on you, betraying how shaken he still is.

“Nice work, Colt,” bellows a voice from the train platform. “That was just what we needed.”

At the sound of Gordon’s voice, all you can see is red.

Setting your jaw, you turn away from Colt and stride back to the platform with more rage than you can remember feeling in your entire life. Every muscle in your body is quaking visibly, and your voice rings out loud and clear over the chaos in the set when you shout, “How dare you?”

Gordon turns from his conversation with a cameraman and gives you a nonplussed glance. When he realizes that your yell and your power walk are directed at him, he dismisses the cameraman to deal with you head-on.

“Something you want to discuss?” Gordon asks you, condescension dripping from his voice.

Behind you, you hear Colt making his way onto the platform, his calm voice assuring you, “Hey, it’s okay—”

But you’re not in the mood to be comforted. “It is not okay, Colt,” you shout, your eyes still locked on Gordon. Every eye on the set is directed at you, now that you’ve chosen to make a huge scene with Elijah Gordon himself. Colt pulls to a stop beside you, but your words are still pointed at Gordon. “How could you make him do that? How dare you make him do that?”

“There wasn’t any real risk, kid,” Gordon says flippantly. “Keep your bonnet on.”

“No real risk?” you demand. “Did we just see the same scene? Colt was trying to get off the tracks to stay alive, and you forced him to stay on longer so you could get a ‘closer call’ on camera.”

Gordon’s brows lower at that. “Again, not life-threatening,” he snaps. “If it were, Colt wouldn’t have finished the stunt, and I wouldn’t have made him do it.”

“You weren’t the one staring down the headlights of a train!”

Colt rests his hand on your elbow in an attempt to get you to calm down, but Gordon fires back at you immediately, “He’s a stuntman, my dear. In case you folks in the set decorating department don’t know what that is, it means he does stunts. Sometimes those stunts are dangerous.”

Gordon’s arrogance only inflames your anger more. “I am completely aware that his job comes with risks,” you shout. “But those risks shouldn’t come from a toffee-nosed director who thinks human life is something to play with like a deck of cards.”

You feel Colt stiffen beside you, and his grip on your arm grows firmer. “Hey, it seriously is okay,” Colt assures you. “Just drop it.”

“I’m not dropping it, Colt. If that train had been a few seconds off count, you wouldn’t be part of this conversation. You’d be in pieces on the train tracks.”

Gordon raises his hands to cut in, replacing the harshness in his voice with honey. “Listen, my dear, let’s just keep a clear picture of who you are, all right? You’re here to make the sets look good. You do that very nicely, and I appreciate it. So why don’t you keep your little toffee-nosed opinions off the set where the actual movies are being made, okay?”

You feel a shift in Colt’s body language again, but this time, it’s directed towards Gordon. You stand your ground, shooting a steely-eyed stare at the director that would make any action star proud.

“I bet your producers wouldn’t appreciate hearing that you risked the life of their top stuntman,” you tell him softly.

Gordon laughs out loud at that, as do a few of the crew members standing around him. “Listen, sweetheart, the producers pay me to make their movies look good,” he informs you. His voice changes then, affecting a curious, offended tone. “Aren’t you the one who’s been on a little crusade lately about doing everything with practical effects? You want to change your stance and say I should do all the stunts in VFX? Your boyfriend will be out of a job if I do that.”

A few more crew members laugh, trying to reduce some of the tension that is radiating between you. You know you’re the only person who’s freaking out about Colt’s close call — it’s not like he hasn’t done this sort of thing before — but you can’t help feeling like this is important.

“You absolute scumbag,” you hiss at Gordon. “You seriously are going to play this off like it’s just part of the process? Colt almost died—”

Holly comes up on your other side now, setting a calming hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, just—”

“I bet your producers would have loved to hear about that—”

“You need to calm down—” Holly says more firmly.

“And don’t you dare try to throw my own words at me like I’ve supported you risking people’s lives for a cool shot—”

Colt’s voice now. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”

“It is a big deal!” you explode, your voice echoing through the train station. “I mean, am I seriously the only one who sees any value in your life?”

Your comment is heavy, and everyone seems to feel the weight of it. Gordon hesitates, his eyes flicking back and forth between you, Colt, and Holly as if to make sure he’s not about to be physically attacked. The usual buzz of the crew is dead silent.

Finally, Gordon clears his throat and says dismissively, “If you’ve got a problem with me, kid, talk to the studio and see if they care. I can promise you they won’t.” He takes one step closer to you, and in a lower voice adds, “And in the meantime, keep your mouth shut about my processes. You’re good at your job, and I’d hate for you to have to get kicked off set just because you can’t keep your personal life separate from your professional one.”

With that, Gordon whirls around and walks back to the cameras to review the shot.

You’re still trembling with anger, your voice drying up in your throat as you realize that everyone in the crowd is still staring at you. You’re not ashamed of what you said, but you’re embarrassed that everyone on set had to witness it.

Ducking your head, you pull away from Colt and Holly and start walking out of the train station set. Only when the warm afternoon air hits your face do you realize tears have been streaming down your cheeks.

Colt is just a few steps behind you, and you look at him wordlessly, trying to read his expression. There’s not a trace of anger or confusion in his eyes — just a deep gratitude and affection. He slings his arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the set.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The irony of that question isn’t lost on you. “This isn’t about me, Colt,” you state bluntly. You raise questioning eyes to him. “Does it really not bother you that he jeopardized you? Completely unnecessarily?”

Colt shrugs, his brow furrowing as he thinks. He seems so calm now, no traces of the panicky fear he couldn’t hide immediately after the stunt. “If I felt like it was unsafe,” he says carefully, “I would have jumped off the track no matter what he said.”

Another second, and it would have been too late.

“I know,” you acknowledge, a hint of emotion creeping into your voice. “I just… I don’t know. Just… seeing everyone act like it’s so casual and not important. Like your life doesn’t even make that much of a difference—”

“Hey,” Colt murmurs, stopping and turning you to face him so he can put both hands on your shoulders. “You are reading way too far into this, Picasso. No one is trying to eradicate my existence here.”

His tone is light and his eyes twinkling, and you know he’s trying to get you to laugh this off. But you just can’t.

“I know,” you whisper. “I just hate that it seems like I’m the only one who cares if you live or die. Including you.”

Your last statement makes Colt pause. You see the hesitation in his eyes as he mulls over what you’re implying. “Not true,” he replies at last, pulling you back under one arm as you resume walking towards the tents that have been set up for the crew.

“Really? Because you act like you don’t care.” Your voice holds no edge, no accusation. “You get more and more reckless with every stunt, and it just… it kills me to watch.”

You know you’re saying too much. You know you’re pushing the “just friends” agreement. But you can’t stop.

Colt takes his time responding to that. Suddenly, he seems to be really listening to the hidden meanings in your words, realizing that your outburst toward Gordon was indicative of something a lot deeper, something that you’re trying to communicate to him now. You can feel his steady heartbeat against your side, the gentle pressure of his hand on your shoulder. His steps are perfectly synchronized with yours.

“Look, I don’t have a death wish,” Colt explains at last, a serious note in his voice. “This is my job; I love the danger that comes with it. It’s like I said, both of us do our jobs because it’s our passion, no matter the risks.”

You shake your head. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was mad at you.”

Colt genuinely chuckles at that. “Believe me, it was obvious who you were mad at.”

“I guess I overdid it, huh?” You can feel some of the intense anger in your chest melting, and you let yourself release a slight laugh as you realize just what a spectacle you made: screaming at one of the world’s top directors on his own set.

“Maybe a little,” Colt confirms kindly. Once the two of you step inside one of the empty tents, he lifts his arm off your shoulders, and you turn to lean back against one of the wooden tables so you can face him. His face is still smeared with grime, and it suddenly reminds you of the moment you shared a few weeks ago, marking each other’s faces with your oil paints.

“I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it,” you concede, letting your gaze fall to the ground. “I just… felt like it needed to be said after literally everyone on set witnessed it.”

Colt nods, smirking at you and crossing his arms to lean against one of the structure beams. “Hey, I appreciated it,” he says with a wink. “No one’s ever challenged a director to demand safer working conditions for me.”

“Maybe it’s about time,” you shoot back, your heart speeding up.

“Maybe.”

The moment falls quiet. The tent is empty besides the two of you, and all you can hear is the sound of each other’s breathing and the gentle rustling of the wind against the flaps of the tent. Colt tilts his head back against the beam he’s leaning on, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. You can tell that this stunt took a toll on him, even if he’s not showing it.

Without warning, all the feelings you’ve been hiding for the last few months threaten to spill out of your lips. Maybe it was seeing him so close to death; maybe it was your impassioned rant; maybe it’s just what happens when you love someone with the desperation of a drowning person reaching for air.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt out, “I really do care about you, you know.”

Colt doesn’t open his eyes or lift his head back up. “Well, if I didn’t, I certainly do now.”

His tone is humorous, but you’re not letting it go now that you’re committed. It’s now or never. “No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I know we’re just doing the friendship thing, but either way, I really care about you.” Colt lifts his head to fix his eyes on you, and you choose your next words carefully so he won’t misunderstand your meaning. “If you ever think that no one cares if you survive the stunts or not, I hope you know it’s not true. There’s one person in the world who would probably go insane without you around.”

Colt doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t sound completely serious either when he responds, “Ah, you’d be fine.”

“Please tell me you don’t honestly think that.”

“Look, Picasso, I’m just one guy in the world,” Colt reminds you, shaking his head as if he’s explaining something very simple. “You’re going to meet thousands in your career, which I know is going to be super long and super star-studded. You’ve got everything in your life to look forward to.”

You frown at him, caught off guard by his seemingly off-topic response. “Colt, what are you even talking about?”

He swallows hard, looking off to the side and trying to disguise the emotion tinging his voice. “I’m just… trying to tell you not to put so many big expectations on me. I’m the kind of guy who can only let you down.”

Your heart plummets at his words, and suddenly everything falls into place in your mind. He does care. He’s always cared. He just won’t show it because he thinks he isn’t good enough. The most wonderful man in the world thinks he isn’t good enough.

“That is not true,” you declare, standing up straight for emphasis. “You’re the kindest person I know, and the smartest, and the bravest, and the funniest—”

“I think you’re confusing me with Keanu Reeves.”

“I’m not joking around, Colt. When I’m with you, I can just be myself, and I know you’re going to be there for me. You’ve seen me at my worst, but you act like you only remember me at my best. I know it sounds crazy, but I keep getting this feeling that everything in my life has led up to meeting you. Everything you do means so much to me. Every word you say, every minute we spend together is so, so precious to me. You are so precious to me.”

Your speech seems to stun Colt senseless. You have no idea where all that came from — you just knew that you wouldn’t be able to breathe until you had told him what you were feeling. Colt stands still as he processes your words, and you don’t regret a single one.

“Wow,” he finally whispers. “I have no follow-up for that.”

You shake your head, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t need one,” you tell him. “I just… felt like I should say it.”

Colt mulls over your words again. You wonder if anyone has ever talked to him like this, if you’re really the first one who has ever looked at him like he hung the moon in the sky. How could I be? How is it possible that no one else has ever recognized you for the treasure that you are?

“It means a lot,” Colt replies softly. “Seriously, you… you have no idea. Thank you.”

You just nod in response, not sure where to go from here. Colt isn’t acting like himself, overcome by some emotion that you’re not sure of. You don’t know whether to reiterate your statements, or to wait for him to say something, or to just stand in silence together for awhile.

Colt finally breaks the silence. “You sure you’re okay?”

You almost laugh at that, some of the tension sliding out of the atmosphere. “Yeah,” you assure him with a smile. “As long as you are.”

He nods at you, his own smile returning in a quiet sort of way. You’re transfixed by the gentle light reflecting in his eyes, the relaxed slope of his shoulders, when he holds out both arms to you, lifting an eyebrow as an invitation.

You don’t hesitate for a second. Why should you, after you just confessed every secret thought in your heart?

You step into the warm circle of his arms, and he immediately lowers his forehead to rest in the curve of your neck. Colt seems so unsure of himself in this moment, in a way that you’ve never known him to be. He’s trembling slightly again the way he was after he had just leaped off the railroad tracks. You grip your arms around his neck even tighter, and Colt wraps his arms around you so tightly you can barely breathe.

In that moment, you know your assumption was correct. He does care about you as deeply as you do about him. You can feel it in his embrace, in his very heartbeat. Every time you move to pull him closer, he mirrors your movements, closing every inch of space that has ever separated you. The grimy film makeup on his face rubs off on your neck, but it’s the sweetest touch you ever felt.

Colt catches you off guard when he tilts his head just slightly to the side, just enough that his lips are resting on the side of your neck. His manner isn’t seductive or suggestive: it’s as if he’s just breathing you in, trying to memorize the feel of you in his arms. Your sensitive skin prickles at the sensation, and one of your hands finds its way up to thread in the ragged-cut hair at the base of his neck.

You can feel his impressive strength just by the way he holds you, but you can’t help marveling at the gentleness of his hands when he reaches up to stroke the back of your head, once, twice. When he cradles the base of your neck with all the tenderness of an old lover, your stomach twists itself into a knot. He’s killing you. It’s magnificent.

Colt finally lifts his head from your shoulder, his hand still resting at the back of your head. His thumb moves in lazy circles, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and his eyes drag up your face slowly until they meet your own in a gaze that burns hotter than a supernova.

“I’ve never told you,” you whisper, your breath filling the few inches between your faces, “and I know I probably shouldn’t, but I’m in love with you.”

The words are hardly out of your mouth when Colt squeezes his eyes closed, a look of pain crossing his face. “Don’t. It’s not worth it,” he whispers back.

“It’s too late for that,” you tell him, tears choking your voice. “You don’t have to feel the same way. I just needed you to know.”

Colt doesn’t open his eyes, just shakes his head. “You don’t want to be in love with me,” he says softly, heartbreakingly. “My destination is a dead-end, and you deserve better than that.”

“Colt, I—”

“It’s better if we don’t go this route,” he tells you, opening his eyes so you can read the seriousness in his words. “You’ve got the most amazing future ahead of you. You’re going to be a lot better off without me dragging you down.”

Your heart constricts at his words. “Don’t you dare try to be noble about this,” you murmur, lifting your hands to frame his face. “You could never drag me down, and I couldn’t care less about what you think I ‘deserve.’ All I care about is you. All I want to do is love you, no matter what happens. If you really don’t feel that way about me, just say so. But if you feel as strongly for me as I do for you, please tell me. Please don’t break this off before we have a chance to even try it.”

The look that wells up in Colt’s eyes speaks to you in a language you’ve never understood before. His eyes roam your face, as if he’s searching for some hint that your words aren’t true, some way he can talk you out of your feelings. Realization dawns in his eyes as he reads the message you’re saying in everything but your words. I love you. I’ve loved you this whole time. You will always be enough for me. My heart is so full of you it barely even feels like it’s mine anymore.

He doesn’t kiss you — the distance between your lips and his feels like an interminable distance — but he lowers his face to yours in a way that is so tender, so intimate that all the breath leaves your body at once. He lets his cheek rest against yours, his beard brushing your skin softly, gently. You let your arms wrap around his neck again to pull him closer, nuzzling the side of his face with yours so he feels your meaning: I don’t ever want to let you go.

When his lips brush against your jaw, right below your ear, you can’t suppress your sharp intake of breath. You feel his hands resting on your waist, pulling you close against him, and you can hear his breath coming raggedly. He’s so different when he’s like this — no false confidence, no alleviating jokes, just the passion he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

You slide your fingers into his hair, and you can feel him react to your touch instantly. He raises his face from where he’s been resting it against yours, savoring in the contact every slow inch he moves. His eyes are closed when he brings his face level with yours again, his breath ghosting over your lips in a way that is so effortlessly tantalizing. It takes all your strength not to tip your head back and drown in his kiss.

With his hand still resting on the back of your neck, Colt pulls you in close one more time, letting his forehead touch yours gently. You close your eyes, breathing in the scent that envelops him — pine needles, cinnamon, and something salty. One moment more, just enough to savor how it feels to be wrapped up in the very essence of him, and Colt pulls back, releasing you from his hold.

“I just can’t do it to you, Picasso,” Colt says, his voice hoarse and strained. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart plummets at his words. It wasn’t enough. All of it wasn’t enough to convince him of your love. Your words are the opposite of what you want to say, but you know there can be no other response. “If that’s what you want,” you answer quietly. “I’ll respect it.”

“I know.”

You take a few steps back, trying to ignore the agony that is so obvious is his voice. Colt still looks like he wants to snatch you back into his arms and beg you to repeat the confession you just laid at his feet, but he doesn’t. He’s too strong, too stubborn, too sure he’s truly doing the right thing by letting you go. You don’t try to talk him out of it. You love him too much to try to change his mind.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “You take care of yourself,” you murmur with a sad smile. “I mean it.”

“I will.” Colt doesn’t even attempt a smile back, the ache in his heart obvious on his face. His gaze wanders over your face for a moment longer, and then he turns and ducks out of the tent.

Once he’s gone, all you can do is bury your face in your hands and weep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 6

#GUYS IT'S MY FAVORITE ONE YET #i let out so many silent screams while writing this #i hope you can tell how much i adore writing these #fanfiction #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers fanfiction #original #colt seavers #the fall guy #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fanfiction #the five times colt seavers almost kisses you (and the one time he does)

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mousy-nona · 7 months

Note

Head-cannon for thought?

Lucifer has duck wings so they molt every spring and end of summer. Luci dealing with molting… with Alastor??

Excerpts from “Duck Care for Dummies: Hell Edition”:

Molting can be painful for your aquatic friends! Their skin can get very sensitive during this time, and some ducks may even pick on their fellow birds. Please be patient with them throughout the molting process.

Alastor looked up from the book with a grin that sent Angel Dust scurrying for cover.

“Very interesting,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming fever-bright.

The mystery started a few weeks ago. The denizens of the hotel had woken up one morning to find some mysterious prankster had scattered feathers everywhere – between the couch cushions, on the stairs, even stuffed between the kitchen cabinets and in between the radio speakers (that one felt a bit personal).

So began a strange battle, with the hotel on one side and what appeared to be the ghost of Mother Goose on the other. Every afternoon, they’d finish cleaning up the remnants of last night’s avian snowstorm, and every morning they’d wake up to find a new layer of radiant white down covering every possible – and impossible – surface.

Husk finally lost it when he found a stray piece of fluff floating in his rum. “Alright, ‘fess up! Who the hell is shaking their tail feathers around this damn place, huh?”

He glared daggers at Vaggie, whose very conspicuous wings flared wide as everyone turned to stare at her. She marched forward until she and Husk were nose to nose.

“What the hell are you implying, huh?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m implying, you overgrown chicken!”

It was mayhem. Charlie rushed to Vaggie’s defense, Angel Dust pulled out a bin of popcorn, Niffty started chanting kill kill kill kill at the top of her tiny lungs. But Alastor, who made a habit of haunting the shadows, spotted something no one else did: one of Lucifer’s hands twitching towards his back. Where his own wings would be, when he wasn’t hiding them.

“Interesting,” Alastor grinned, then disappeared to the library, where he found this book after a few hours of intense searching. Someone had moved it from the shelves and shoved it under a massive pile of papers – almost as if they didn’t want anyone to find it.

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Alastor was nothing if not thorough. Humming a swinging, jaunty tune, flipped to the last chapter.

So your duck is molting…what should you do about it?

Unlike their earthly counterparts, ducks in hell may go through a much longer molt without help. A good avian caretaker can speed up the process by helping brush out the feathers. A light touch is essential – using a soft brush or bare fingers is the best way to dislodge the plumage without hurting the sensitive skin underneath.

“Very interesting.”

He waited until nightfall to make his move. When the hotel had finally quieted down, and the only thing he could hear were the roaches in the walls, he willed himself to appear by Lucifer’s door and knocked, just once.

Lucifer cracked open the door, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. He looked as if he hadn’t slept properly in days. “Charlie, is that – oh. It’s you.” He sighed, visibly deflating when he saw who it was. Alastor’s smile widened.

Oh, he was going to enjoy every moment of this. Especially the parts where Lucifer would protest, and stutter, and turn as red as one of his beloved apples.

“I was doing a little light reading today, and stumbled upon a rather interesting passage.”

Lucifer scoffed and tried to slam the door in his face, but Alastor managed to slip his foot in the crack before he could.

“Alastor, it’s really way too late for this – “

Alastor held up the book in question, and Lucifer shut up immediately. A pink blush spread across his pale face. Alastor could have purred with satisfaction at the sight of it. Oh, how he enjoyed making Lucifer uncomfortable. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes.

“Would you like me to share a few verses with you? I must say, this portion about just how sensitive the skin grows during a molt is especially fascinating –”

“Shut up!” Lucifer stuck his head out into the hallway and hurriedly glanced around, checking to make sure if anyone had overheard him. Then he grabbed Alastor by the lapels and yanked him inside.

“Your Majesty, how very forward of you.”

Lucifer pinched his nose between two fingers and took a long breath in. Out. “So you figured it out, huh?”

“That you’ve been spreading your body parts all over the hotel?” Alastor chuckled merrily. “Quite. I found it especially interesting how fond your feathers were of my radios.”

Lucifer had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Okay, that was childish, I admit it. But you’re not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“That’s entirely by design, I assure you.” Alastor stepped forward, his smile turning coy. “But this little midnight rendez-vous isn’t about me. It’s about you, and your rather, ah, feathery problem.”

Lucifer pouted, looking almost uncannily like one of his beloved toy ducks. “I’ve never gone through a molt alone, alright? Lilith is usually here to help me out, and…it’s a rather intimate thing to ask of Charlie.”

“That’s why I’m here!” Alastor grinned. “Alastor the Radio Demon, at your humble service.” He swept into a grand bow, ending it with a little flourish of his cane because he was a showman, first and foremost.

Lucifer blanched. “If you think I’m ever letting you within an inch of my wings–”

“And what’s the alternative, your Majesty? You’re going to fill the hotel with feathers until we all suffocate or drown? You’ll wait until Husk kills Vaggie?” He covered his mouth, feigning shock. “I didn’t realize you were so cruel! You would really stand by and do nothing as your daughter becomes a widow?”

Lucifer scoffed, but Alastor could tell that he’d hit a nerve. He paused and ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair.

There was a long moment of silence. Then finally – “I do need help.” The words were so quiet, spoken so quickly it could have been a passing breeze.

Alastor stepped forward and wrapped one arm around Lucifer’s thin shoulders. Lucifer was burning up, his back so hot Alastor could feel it through his gloves. “The night’s not getting any younger.” He leaned in so his lips brushed the shell of Lucifer’s ear, delighting in his shudder, in the bob of his throat as Lucifer gulped. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple. Alastor’s mouth watered, but he forced himself to sit still and wait. “I suggest we start immediately.”

“Fine,” Lucifer sighed. Slowly, begrudgingly, he stripped off his coat and shirt, then willed his wings into existence. All six of them sprang out in a veritable shower of feathers. Alastor was covered in the stuff – feathers were in his hair, on his suit, stuck on his pants. A few of them even landed in his mouth, to his great displeasure.

He spat them out and glared daggers at the angel, who looked like he might burst out laughing. “Sorry,” Lucifer said, not sounding even the slightest bit apologetic about the mess.

Alastor determinedly shook off the plumes that he could find. Then he stepped forward, stripping off his gloves as he loomed over Lucifer’s wings. His smile grew as Lucifer shrunk back, staring nervously at the sharp points of his claws as they drew closer and closer to his tender skin.

“Can’t you keep those things on?” He squeaked.

“No can do!” Alastor said, almost sing-song with glee. “The book said it would be better with bare hands.”

“They probably didn’t think of the claws – oh!” He jolted upright, as if he’d been tazed. His eyes fluttered closed, a truly indecent sound ripping from his throat as Alastor rubbed the outer spot of his wings. A few feathers flew off, revealing bare skin beneath. With a gentleness that Alastor hadn’t known he’d possessed, he rubbed carefully around the frame of the wings first, working from left to right as he freed Lucifer of the worst of the molting.

Lucifer grit his teeth, his throat working as he fought to keep those strange sounds inside, but more and more escaped as Alastor finished with the edge of his wings and started working his way inward, towards the spot where his wings folded into his shoulder blades. At one point, Alastor brushed against a particularly sensitive zone near his upper back, and Lucifer let loose a long, low moan, his back arching up against Alastor’s graceful fingers.

And Alastor, being Alastor, couldn’t let it slide.

“Having fun, your Majesty?”

Lucifer turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. Like strawberries in spring. “Shut up,” he muttered.

Alastor’s hand stilled. “Why, I thought I was doing you a favor. I could stop here…”

“No!” Lucifer yelped, then buried his head in his arms, as if he wished the floor would swallow him whole. “I mean…”

“Yes?” Alastor prompted. The embarrassment! The shame! Lucifer’s humiliation was sweet on his tongue, like blood and spun sugar.

“Please continue,” Lucifer whispered, his voice mouse-quiet. Alastor chuckled.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Lucifer jerked and arched as Alastor finished his ministrations, the white pile of feathers on the floor growing into hills, then mountains. Finally, Alastor leaned back, humming with satisfaction at a job well done.

“I daresay my work here is finished.”

Lucifer sighed, shaking out his wings with a groan of satisfaction. “They feel so light! I can’t remember the last time I could move them like this. I – Alastor, thank you.”

Alastor grinned. “Save your thanks. Let’s just say…you owe me one.”

Lucifer blanched and shook his head. “I am definitely not saying that.”

As Alastor turned to leave, Lucifer grabbed his shoulder.

“My molting season…it doesn’t end for another few weeks.”

“And…?” Alastor prompted, his Cheshire cat grin stretched almost impossibly wide.

“I would appreciate it if we could do this again,” Lucifer said, too fast, as if he thought he could pretend he never said it if he said it quickly enough.

"An interesting idea! I'll be sure to give it some thought."

Lucifer spluttered, but Alastor was already gone, his radio laugh echoing endlessly into the night.

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #duckiedeer #lucifer molts #prompts #asks

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dronebiscuitbat · 2 months

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 42)

The next few days were spent filling out paperwork, taking a few cognitive tests, and answering questions N was sure Khan already knew. Despite that, Khan had assured him multiple times that this was purely procedure, and he essentially had the job.

It was also spent worrying… each time he came home he'd been drawn to his girlfriend like a moth to a particularly purple flame, as soon as he was in range to hear her core, that warm haze would overtake him, and when he came back to his senses, he was already holding her no matter where she was, a chair, the couch, taking a nap, it did not matter.

It made sense… he loved her. He wanted to be close and it wasn't the closeness that worried him. It was the fact he wouldn't even remember how he ended up there that was the problem, he was walking through the doorway one moment, and curled up tightly against her the next.

He wasn't sure she remembered either, she would often seem to jolt “awake” around the same time as he did, then they'd look at each other, confused.

It was like a mandated cuddle session, and he didn't exactly mind, but some control over when and where would be great, thank you.

“So everything seems to be in order, last thing we need to do is put you through our basic training.” Khan’s voice finally cut through the TV static that was N's thoughts, all of his eyes suddenly focused on the man, which seemed to immediately trip Khan up, even if he wasn't consciously aware of the fact N had seven eyes.

“Basic Training?” He asked, quirking up an eyebrow, wasn't that reserved for stuff like the military?

“Yes! The WDF does more than watch over doors! We're the defacto police force for the colony, we keep an eye on everything! And we need to make sure you're in tip-top physical condition.”

Khan looked N up and down.

“And I tried to tell everyone it was functionally pointless… considering, but everyone wants to see you put through your paces, so thats what were going to do today!”

“Well, okay! I love doing anything?” N agreed, much like he did most of everything in his life, but he wasn't confident, wasn't this normally pretty hard?

“Great!”

Ten Minutes Later…

N was actually… kinda impressed at the obstacle course the WDF had for training, it had a climbing wall, a barbed wire crawl, tire steps, and a rope shimmy. Everything all about enhancing motor control and maneuverability, since strength and speed can't really be improved when you're made out of steel and hydraulic.

The room he'd been lead to was huge, the ceiling curving in a dome shape above them. A group of 20 or so people were on benches not too far away, all wearing WDF badges on different parts of their clothing. Khan led him to the starting line with a clipboard and a timer, looking excited himself.

“Alright! There is a benchmark of three minutes that you have to beat. But that should be no problem for you.”

“Ah… I have wings, should I…?”

“Oh! Yes it's probably best if you… refrain. Just to make it fair.”

Alright, no wings then.

He was nervous, genuinely. He'd never been through actual training before strangly enough. He'd just been… pre-programmed. Or re-programmed, with combat protocols innately.

While he was hunting, combat came naturally almost on autopilot, every sense heightened, reflex sharpened. He'd never enjoyed it, but he'd never had to think about it very hard either.

So, when it came to actually navigating through the course, he wasn't sure if he could without putting himself in ‘hunting mode’.

“Are you ready, son-in-law?”

He rolled his eyes before nodding, he got in a sprinters stance, surely this wouldn't be too hard right?

“Go!”

He shot off, legs beating underneath him as he came up to the tire steps, it felt strange, being bound to the ground instead of flying, and he felt way more clumsy this way then normal… oh well.

His systems charted the path for him, and his legs moved without putting in much conscious effort, then it was on to the barbed wire.

What once was a silent room seemed to fill with murmurs as he went, he threw himself onto his belly and scrambled underneath, he could feel the wire digging into the back of his coat, but he didn't slow down even as he started to sink into the mud.

He emerged out the other side filthy, but now came time to scale the wall, he had to will away the instinctual way his wings wanted to come out, he took a moment to pause, it was a sheer wooden wall, sanded down to remove any grooves or notches to climb up.

This was for workers.

How would a worker get over this?

How would Uzi get over this?

He took several steps backwards, taking a deep breath as his systems calculated his jump.

He got a running start as he pounced on the wall, and kept running, every servo in her legs keeping him upright as he ran up the wall and grabbed the top of it, before hoisting himself up. Murmurs turned to a few tentative cheers.

The final challenge, was a rope shimmy from the top of the wall to the finish line, he could jump down from this height no problem, but at this point, a part of him wanted to prove himself to both Khan and the rest of the WDF that he didn't need his “upgrades” to do this.

He wrapped himself around the rope, tail included, his weight had the rope sag and bend more then intended, which was an extra challenge as he climbed down, turned upside down.

At this point, he heard several whoops from the benches, making him smile despite the fact that his joints were getting a little sore from how quickly he'd been moving, he quickly shimmied down until he hit the final sprint to the finish line, where once again he put every once of power into his legs as he took off in a dead sprint, before he reached the finish line, where he had to dig his claws into the ground to slow down.

He panted, feeling his vents take in air so hard it was producing a low whine, his hands gripped his knees, he was muddy and gross and sweaty (why do robots sweat?!) And his breath was ragged, but he felt a hand slap his back.

“A minute fifteen! New record!” Khan said happily, looking like he had stars in his eyes, N smiled, his hair falling into his visor.

It was abundantly clear that his body had not been designed for anything but ambushing and flying, a more “death from above” then a persistence predator, because his joints were currently screaming “what the heck did you just do?!” at him. He wanted to sit down now…

“Great! U-uggh.” Khan led him over to a chair where he instantly collapsed in it, throwing his head back and not quite caring he was still covered in mud.

“Wow, that was kinda impressive.” A voice said, they were young whoever they were, a masculine voice that sounded like your typical dude-bro at the beach.

“Mm. Thanks.” N didn't have the energy to say anything else, thankfully he was quickly recovering.

Although he might recover faster if he could get a little bit of oil… he had brought it with him.

He put a hand in his pocket and fumbled with the container hidden there, the guy next to him continued speaking.

“N right? I'm Guy, I was the newest recruit before you. My time was 2:15.”

“Doesn't sound bad!” N replied, this guy was friendly at least, he could always get behind that.

He quickly took out his container and took a long gulp, the oil hitting his systems, immediately he felt better, his joints relaxing and his core settling, he sighed as he brought it away from his mouth, his long tongue coming to lick his lips from the access.

Huh… Guy had fallen real quiet all of the sudden

N looked back at the drone who'd been speaking to him, who's red eyes had gone hollow and his mouth slightly agape, N lifted an eyebrow before realizing why, he looked down at his container, slightly stained with oil, being quite obvious what was in it.

“Oh uh. Sorry… just started getting a little warm.” N tried to explain with a smile on his face, trying to be friendly but also succeeding in flashing his now oil-covered fangs.

Guy gulped.

“I-um yeah dude. N-no problem, guess you gotta kick the craving s-somehow.’

N looked confused for a moment.

“It's not really a craving, I just need it so I don't overheat.” He laughed nervously, sensing how tense the air had gotten. “Boiling in your own shell’s not fun.”

Guy was switching between curiosity and fear, tentatively, he seemed to choose between the two.

“What- what does it taste like?” He asked, still stammering but clearly not nearly as put off by it as before.

“The oil? Uh, sweet, this batch is a little earthy I guess, but that depends on where I get it from.”

The stuff in his container right now was actually from the nursery, it didn't taste nearly as metallic as oil from already living (or dead, he guessed) drones, instead having a more earthy, rounded taste.

He kinda preferred it honestly, plus, no one died for it.

“This is from the nursery, my girlfriend picked it up for me when she went for our daughter.”

Guy seemed to relax further.

“Oh, so it's not… you know?”

“N-no, I haven't killed anyone in… months.” He probably didn't need to add that last part, but he felt the need to defend himself, he really wished that people would stop looking at him and seeing… a monster. Even if he couldn't really blame them.

“Cool. Cool.” Guy replied awkwardly, before it seemed he had another question on his mind.

“How's that work?”

“How does what work?”

“You and a worker drone, is she like… pfft, okay?”

N… suddenly didn't like where this was going.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I mean, she's a worker drone right? Don't you have like… murdery instincts? Damn, if she can handle you, she's gotta be a freak in the sheets.”

N felt something white hot broil inside him until it's vitriol was bubbling in his throat, his hand twitched, and he just barely kept a feral growl from escaping his mouth.

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about Uzi that way.” He said, dripping with politeness even as his tail was slowly coiling like a snake, ready to sting the nosy drone if he didn't leave soon.

“Oh shit! Doorman? Damn I knew she was a freak, just didn't know it went that deep!” Guy laughed, N's eye twitched.

Kill him!Kill him! He's a threat! Kill him!

No. No. Don't kill him, do not kill him, you don't like killing, he's not being threatening, he's just being gross.

You must protect them! He speaks of her like she is not yours, kill him! Before he becomes a threat to the kit, to Uzi!

He closed his eyes, clenching his fist before letting his anger roll out of his mouth. Even so he still vibrated with it, unable to truly let it all wash over him.

He'd never felt more angry in his life.

“Guy. Do not talk about her like that.” He was far more firm the second time, his tail was fully coiled, pointed directly at the drones jugular although he didn't seem to notice.

“Ah right. Sorry, sorry, shouldn't talk about another dude's girl like that. My bad.” Guy lifted both his hands, clearly trying to appease him, N would feel more appeased if the man left him alone, preferably on another planet it possible.

“Guy! Get your ass over here before the new guy snaps your neck!” Another member of the WDF called him over, before the man in a yellow hard hat and pink eyelights made his way over to him.

“Sorry, Guy doesn't know when to shut his servo. I'm Hal, what did he say to you that got you looking like murder?”

“I'd… rather not repeat it. He insulted my girlfriend.”

“Oooh, he's lucky it wasn't me, if he'da insulted Reida I woulda rung his scrawny neck.” The drone had a fake, but beautiful beard attached to his face, it was brown, along with is decently long hair.

“Reida?”

“My wife.”

“Ah.”

“Your names N right? or is that a nickname for something?” He asked, he was rather blunt, but nothing about the drone was threatening, he was a boxier, thicker worker model, betraying his age to be closer of that to Khan’s.

“It's Serial Designation N, technically, but just N please.”

“Righto! Glad to have ya! Khan’s talked a lot about you!” His hand came to slap roughly on N's back, it was strong enough to rock him forward slightly and send mud flying in all directions.

“Really?”

“Aye, er well, he's talked nonstop about his grandaughter, and you come up too.”

“That… makes more sense.”

“That means you're with his daughter right? Uzi?”

“That's her.”

“Guy better watch it then, if Khan hears that he's gonna blow a gasket. An so will I to be frank, that girl don't need anymore grief.”

N liked Hal more the longer he talked, he also sounded like a dwarf from one of those movies he and Uzi watched… Lord of the Rings?

“Thank you. I didn't actually want to hurt him.” N said, sighing, he wanted to cover his visor with his hands; but then he'd just get his visor smudgy.

“Yeah ya did.”

“Uh-”

“Don't sweat it kid. We've all been there. Though…”

“Hmm?”

“My Reida woulda kicked his ass first! Hah!”

Next ->

#murder drones #biscuitbites #nuzi #uzi doorman #serial designation n #n and uzi #oil is thicker then blood #tera doorman #tired... got it out tho #N shows off a bit #some new OCs #one's nice #the other comes inches from dying by N's hand

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pauking5 · 5 months

Text

Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 1

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret

Word count: 4.5k+

A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.

This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.

Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki

Next Chapter 3 Chapter 4

It's not about how fast you go.

It's about how long you go fast.

Fast like-

A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start.

Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.

"Raiko, are you ready?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again.

"Give me a minute, will you?"

Okay, where was I?

It's not about how fast you go-

A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.

Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...

How about I tell you a little bit about me.

Name's Raiko Suruki.

Yes, that Suruki. Here we go again.

I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add.

Proud podium sitter for thousands of times.

Also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world.

The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.

After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man and having his first and only child - that's me, in case you didn't know.

Anyway, without any second thoughts or doubts, he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith of his life and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.

He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it. Be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.

It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of rally in the whole of Japan.

The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.

It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, it didn't last. Once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards and it all fell to ruins.

Everything started going wrong.

All of a sudden, the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by DNF's on every scoreboard.

And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the disaster and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point. Disastrous, life-changing, career-ending type of things.

The mess piled up more and more and it showed despite dad's efforts to stay afloat.

Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, well, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't enough.

The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened.

It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.

The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.

Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.

Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.

I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could to save it.

Until now.

So, let's try that again, shall we?

Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.

Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.

Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.

Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.

But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father.

Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.

"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.

"Your mantra sucks."

He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?

"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."

Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.

"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.

If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.

As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.

Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.

He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.

Racing is a man's world. With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.

Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.

Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.

A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.

They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.

But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.

You.

The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence.

The only people that did were your team in the garage, from the mechanics to your PR agent.

Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.

Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.

This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway.

It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.

The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.

"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"

You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.

Time to get this show going.

Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.

You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.

No pressure, right?

"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"

"Yes."

"Good. All set?"

"I think so."

"Raiko, look at me."

"You're not my style."

"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him.

"You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."

He was right.

Let's prove everyone wrong.

The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.

"3."

It's not about how fast you go.

"2."

It's about how long you go fast.

"1."

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.

Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally depending on which stages got picked for the day. More forest terrain gave way to hard roads, receding in wheel control, gaining insane suspension pressure. This one was more of an open valley terrain, which was a bit safer, but the later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.

"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.

"1 left 100."

Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion.

You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.

Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.

"3 right don't cut."

Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.

You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kmph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.

"6 right very long."

Hard left into a tight corner.

"Cut 8 left."

Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.

This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.

Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.

Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.

Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing Academy - 1.23.40

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59

3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.24.25

"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.

"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.

"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.

"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"

"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."

"But-"

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.

"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.

You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.

"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."

"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.

He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.

"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."

With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station until he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.

Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.

"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he added a daring wink, flashing his cocky smile at you.

Ew.

Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your autograph."

Taken aback at your response, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.

"Suruki Racing...," he started doubtful, "the shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead," he finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.

Who the fuck was this guy?

The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.

"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself.

"Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo.

If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red tones before anything else.

He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.

Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.

Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.

"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"

Eh, come again?

Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.

"B-Beetle dupe?!"

"I thought you were a guy."

Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.

You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.

"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.

He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.

You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.

So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples surrounding him. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.

Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.

Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.

Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.

"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear making shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."

Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.

Oh, just you wait -

A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.

Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.

"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"

"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"

"Is your car even going to last a season?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

I guess that was it for mystery, dad.

Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.

If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.

Driving was dirty.

Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver.

The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.

Respect was fought for, not earned.

It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.

You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.

You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.

Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.

However, this first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?

As you trudged on the warm asphalt, warmed by the mid-spring warmth of March, there was one thing you knew for sure.

This is gonna be a long season.

Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!

#Runaway #Naozumi Hiyama #Naozumi Hiyama x reader #Naozumi Hiyama x you #Overdrive x reader #Overdrive x you #racing au #Overdrive Mackenyu

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moonlight-prose · 1 year

Text

FOR THE LOVE OF DANGER

╰┈➤ #01: ONE LAST TIME

a/n: so i finally FINALLY saw the movie and even though it's really late since it came out, i'm happy to write for him at last. this is partial brain rot and a partially thought out plot that has been in the works for months. i'd heard of spidey 2099 before, but never thought i'd fall in love with him to this extent. this fic was also supposed to come out last month, but i'm always behind on everything. so i hope y'all enjoy this wild ride.

note: a massive huge fucking THANK YOU to @soulores for being the best beta reader a girl could have. seriously i couldn't have finished this without you.

dedicated to: @sunflowersteves for listening to me rant about how pretty he is and for being the first person to ever hear about this plot. thank you for being one of the best person here babes.

summary: when things go awry in your life you find yourself back at el nido - a comfort spot in the darker parts of the city - in need of peace. only to run into him.

word count: 8.5k+ (somehow???)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, alcohol consumption, one night stands, p in v sex, rough sex, cumeating if you squint, cumplay if you really really squint, my awful attempts at dirty talk, soft miguel, the start of chaos.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

NUEVA YORK 2099; EARTH-298

Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara… and I’m scared.

You couldn’t breathe, the speed of your heart rate nearly caused you to believe you were going into cardiac arrest. Some small part of your brain wanted to actually check. It wasn’t hard to simply waltz right into the nearest hospital. Although dealing with the disbelief on doctors and nurses faces as you asked them to check if you were dying pushed you away from the idea altogether.

Another day at a job that didn’t allow you to have anything, left you seeking out the only thing you knew would help. An old dive bar still resided in the lower part of the city—The Nest, or as the owner called it El Nido—as local folk often referred to it. Although you were more than happy to call it a safe haven.

Everything was so pristine where you worked, so perfect. But The Nest was simply a small hole in the wall that helped people find a spot to feel safe for an hour or two. You tended to avoid going there on weekdays, but seeing as how you were about to be fired from your job…you felt it was necessary.

Sighing, you hitched your bag up higher on your shoulder, the weariness from the day finally settling its weight over you. What you wouldn’t give to be asleep right now, curled up in bed. Except you couldn’t go home. Not when all that remained was the dreaded time spent waiting for tomorrow. The day they would more than likely—officially—ask you to leave.

“Sorry,” you muttered, accidentally slamming into a woman walking hand in hand with her partner. The man glared at you, the gaze enough for you to quicken your step towards your destination.

The smell of the bar was exactly the same. Ricky always loved incense, and while you claimed it would drive customers away, he somehow made it work. Letting out a calming breath, you headed right towards your stool at the bar. The worn in leather a comfort after sitting in a stiff backed office chair all day. It was partially ripped and practically ruined, but you could already feel the stress melt off your body.

“Mi florita!” Ricky shouted, handing off a drink to an older man with white hair.

“Hey Ricky—oof—” He leaned across the bar, dragged you closer, and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His breath was tinged with cinnamon and a hint of mint—letting you know he’d been drinking his favorite tea all day.

Nonetheless you smiled at his kind gesture. Ricky was like the cousin you had never had, but always wanted. Standing at around six feet with tattoos going up and down his tanned arms and his hair chopped into a mess of wild curls, he was your favorite person. The one you always sought out in times of trouble, if anything just to laugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t say the same for you. He loved his boyfriend too much to put you higher up on the scale—or so he claimed.

“How’s the job?” He poured you a martini, extra dry, extra dirty. “Are you playing nice with all the fancy folk?”

You chuckled, taking a sip and letting the alcohol burn its way down. “The fancy folk are slowly driving me insane.”

“Uh oh.”

Another sip caused yet another part of your stress to fade. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for them to give me the same leniency they offer to other employees.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I mean it won’t matter anyways tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ricky slid a drink to the person sitting a stool away from you, taking the small amount of cash he offered.

“The day I’m probably gonna get fired.”

“What?” he exclaimed, nearly causing the glass of whiskey in front of him to spill over.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I can just…find a new place to work at. I mean there has to be other labs in need of a biochemist. Right?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the bottle in his hands. “Florita…” Your stomach dropped, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you—turning your once rose hued glasses clear.

They were going to ask you to leave and because it was Alchemax, there was no other option but for you to beg for forgiveness. An act you had sworn to yourself that you’d never do. You were a good scientist. Hell you were the best in that fucking lab, yet they couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to go your own way. To carve your own path in a company that was adamant on placing you in a box. Keeping you perfectly pristine for those on the outside—those that might wish to give you freedom.

Holding up your hand, you stopped him from saying anything else. If shit was meant to go sideways tomorrow, then so be it. You’d go out like a champion, worthy of whatever came next. Downing the remainder of your drink you slid the empty glass towards Ricky, nodding at him to fill it up. At least with that he didn’t hesitate, knowing you needed something to take the edge off—your night already taking a turn for the worst.

“Just gotta keep going,” you muttered, staring at the liquid in the hopes that it would magically fix everything.

“You got this chica.” Words that seemed empty at a time like this somehow brought a small smile to your lips.

Taking another sip you thanked him softly and watched him wander off to the other side of the bar, his eyes set on a group of men that were most likely there to buy out the bar. It happened every once in a while, but you couldn’t exactly fault them. They were here to have fun, to make an otherwise regular night memorable. They certainly weren’t here to wallow in their drinks, swallowing down their misery in the hopes of finding something good to take away.

“Shit,” you muttered when you came to the bottom of the glass again, your finger tracing the rim.

“Firing a biochemist is the stupidest thing a lab could do.”

You jumped when someone’s voice came from beside you—the man a stool away now focusing the entirety of his attention on you. Perhaps it was the vodka or the low neon lights of the bar, but you could have sworn his eyes were red. The color so striking it sent a chill down your spine—as if he was analyzing you with one simple glance. For a second you forgot he even said anything—too busy taking in his soft brown hair and strong jaw—until his lips quirked up into a grin.

One that made your heart flip in your chest, heat rising beneath your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping?” you inquired, gathering enough courage to confront him about his blatant behavior.

His lips pulled up on one side, something glimmering in his eyes that had you hooked the longer he looked at you. “Lo siento,” he said softly—his voice slightly mumbled. “Didn’t mean to. I just heard you talking about something that interests me.”

“Ah.” You glanced away to escape his penetrating stare, if for a chance to catch the breath in your lungs. “So you’re a scientist.”

Pride bloomed in your chest when he was caught off guard. His glass halfway to his mouth when the statement left your mouth. Once again that mysterious light flickered to life again, a soft chuckle leaving his lips and causing your heart to erratically beat in your chest. Taking a sip, he gently set the now empty glass back on the bar. The tension was so thick you swore you could slice it in half, heat spilling into your body.

“You’re observant.”

Shrugging, you took your own sip—the alcohol no longer burning your throat. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. What else from that conversation would interest you?”

“You.”

The words were out of his mouth before you could even finish the question, your breath catching at the sound of them. Your day had been shit. Enough to rival doomsday itself, but there you were sitting at a bar with him. A man who’s name you didn’t know. The smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, your eyes roving down his figure in an attempt to make him feel half of what he stirred in you.

“Let me buy you a drink?” you asked, pointing to his empty glass.

“I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Your smile widened. “Then ask me.”

For the second time that night he was caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly. The song behind you shifted, a low tune you could feel reverberating through you as he changed seats, taking the stool directly beside you. He moved silently, his thighs pressed tightly against yours as he got comfortable in the spot—his arm brushing yours.

The first thing you noticed was how warm he was—as if his body was a personal heater. But that was pushed out of your mind, replaced by the second thing. He looked at you clearly, hair falling onto his forehead slightly until you finally saw it. The actual color of his eyes. Crimson irises caught you in their hold, keeping you until he was satisfied—drinking you in, he trailed his gaze over the entirety of your body.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face, body unconsciously leaning in.

You inhaled sharply, watching as his eyes lit up at your reaction to his proximity, his hand sliding closer until his fingers brushed against your wrist. Suddenly your shitty day was but a mere memory in the back of your mind. Entirely forgotten in favor of him. He was so large you swore he blocked everything else, filling your eyesight with nothing else but his frame. The breadth of his shoulders, the length of his torso and how he had to hunch over slightly to get close to you.

“What’s your name?” you inquired finally, your words breathy and dazed.

He grinned, hand curving around your wrist and pulling your hand towards him. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

Leaning in so close until you felt his chest brush your shoulder, his lips met your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Miguel,” he breathed, smiling at the way you practically melted into him.

For a brief moment you forgot you were sitting in the middle of a bar, people surrounding the two of you. When in fact it felt like nothing remained except you and him and the song playing behind you. Your exhale was shaky, representing the way you felt on the inside. As if he’d pulled you apart with a single word, his body heat affecting your brain—turning it to mush.

“Miguel…” Your hand curved around the front of his jacket, eyes meeting his as he moved, brushing his lips across your cheek.

“Hm?”

Something heady built in your chest, solidifying the truth you knew the second you started talking to him. You wouldn’t be leaving this bar alone. You simply hoped he was on the same page as you, but the way he hooked his arm around your waist, thighs bracketing your frame told you everything you needed to know. He was not only on the same page; he was flipping forward, reading a future that had yet to occur.

You almost wanted to ask him if he liked what he saw. If—by some odd chance—there was something more than this fiery electricity between the two of you.

“You still want that drink bebita?”

Words evaded you the longer he sat there, filling the space with nothing but him. How he smelled, how he sounded, fuck even the way his lips felt dragging against your skin as he spoke. You wanted to ask where he came from. How you’d never seen him in this bar before—your life now altered because of something so small. Simply a conversation. Yet now you couldn’t see yourself ending the night without him.

“No,” you sighed, shifting until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. “You?”

He shook his head.

“I…” Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “I don’t usually do this.”

Grinning, he raised your chin slightly with his knuckle, eyes catching you once more in their web, snaring you in a trap so saccharine you could taste it on your tongue. “Your pace.”

And with two simple words you were his. Captured happily in something you never wanted to be rid of. You smiled, your other hand sliding up into his hair, and finally the weight of your day lifted entirely off your shoulders. The question of whether or not he wanted to kiss you was on the tip of your tongue, but like before…he was miles ahead of you. With a small grin, he tipped your face towards his, catching your lips in a kiss you felt down to your fingertips.

He didn’t kiss you gently, languidly taking his time as if you were both here until the sun went up. No, that was nothing like what you expected. He devoured you. Stole every gasp, sound, and sigh you could have let out; his hand holding you exactly where he wanted you. Miguel kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen. And you let him. You bent to his will with ease, giving into every touch.

Whining softly, you tugged sharply on his hair when his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The taste of his drink now seeping into your mouth. You didn’t even question letting him in, desperate to know what he tasted like—what his tongue felt like licking deeply into you. Shivers ran down your spine when his hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you closer until you sat on the very edge of the stool.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, pulling away and sliding his lips along your jaw.

“Oh…” Your breath was a sharp gasp when his fingers trailed down your throat, cupping it so quickly you could have sworn you imagined it. But the heat that spilled into your stomach told you otherwise.

His lips were heaven on your skin, nipping and licking until you were sure that certain spots would be tender tomorrow morning. You didn’t care. He could have sunk his teeth directly into your neck and you’d still ask for more. Somewhere in between talking and the tension, you lost any sense of worry. Those feelings went out the window the second he moved closer.

“I um—” Pushing at his chest, you reluctantly parted with the realization that you were still in public, and fucking against the bar would certainly make Ricky ban you for life. So he fell back, his lips swollen and spit slicked—pupils blown wide until the black began to bleed into the red. A swirl of brilliant color.

He smirked, taking in your disheveled appearance, all thanks to him. You had half a mind to drag him back to the bathroom, but the burning glare of Ricky was currently being seared into the side of your head. Without a doubt you knew it said: “You fuck in my bar you’re not coming back.” So you gathered whatever control you had over yourself and downed the remainder of your now tepid drink.

“My apartment is two blocks from here,” you began, exhaling a shaky breath as you finally took the leap for what you wanted. “We can be there in five minutes.”

Miguel nodded, yanking out his wallet and tossing down enough cash to cover not only his drinks, but yours as well. Which was your sign to grab your things. No words had to be said, because the intent was clear to the both of you. He was here to find the same relief you were—something to take his mind off of life for a little while.

Waving a quick goodbye towards Ricky, you followed Miguel out of the bar into the cool night air of the city. You were beneath the depths of the main part, where people didn’t necessarily travel to. But you’d grown up there. It remained a place where you still felt like you belonged. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Not when the intentions for the night were clear to both of you. But that didn’t stop him from reaching down and slipping your hand into his, clasping your fingers together as you walked down the street.

Such a small act of tenderness—barely noticeable to anyone walking past—but meant so much more.

“What brought you to El Nido?” you asked, leading him down the street where your apartment building resided. It wasn’t a drastic question, but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You were a scientist after all.

He shrugged, thumb running along your knuckles. “Needed a night out.”

“Let me guess…” You turned—walking backwards the best you could—regarding him with a suspicious expression. The small smile on his lips caused your heart to thump a little faster. “You’re getting fired tomorrow too?”

For the first time that night you heard him laugh. The sound, soft and low and by all means something you wanted to hear over and over again.

“No.” He took in a breath, his crimson eyes searching the dark streets for nothing in particular—the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. “I’m…trying to figure out something.”

“A problem?”

He sighed. “You could say that.”

“Well I think—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, his arm jerking you forward until you fell into his chest, wrapped tightly to him as a horn echoed loudly behind you. A car sped past, turning rapidly onto the street and disappearing around the corner—leaving the both of you in silence. Your breath came in quickly, eyes wide as fear ran streaked your body, turning you cold. And Miguel watched after the car, his eyes narrowed and body tensed—as if he was ready to take off after them.

That is until he felt your hands press against his chest softly, drawing his attention back to you.

“T-Thank you,” you gasped, trying to calm the adrenaline that rushed through you.

There was no mistaking what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled you close; if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in so quickly. You wanted to ask him how he did it. How he knew the car was coming, but the words were trapped in the back of your throat. The shock had started to flood your system. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along your jaw in a soothing motion that seemed to slow the panic filtering through your body. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it—the touch yet another reflex to slow the racing of your heart.

To bring you back down to Earth.

“Okay?” he murmured, his eyes tracing the curve of your face, watching your eyelids flutter for a moment as you met his gaze once more.

You nodded, lightly gripping his wrist simply for the sake of comfort. “I’m okay.”

The night was no doubt effectively altered. Not necessarily ruined, but you couldn’t go on the way you were before. No teasing words, no light conversation. Instead you walked in silence. His hand clasped in yours and guard up in case of something else happening until you reached your place.

You were surprised to find that you enjoyed the silence while you walked. As if Miguel offered you a sense of safety and comfort you never had before; your body responding differently than you expected. Sure, you were attracted to him, but you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him when it came to this. To needing safety in the midst of possible danger.

“This is me,” you said, pulling out your key from your pocket—the hallway light dim and nearly extinguished. You had to remember to speak to the building manager about it tomorrow.

He grinned slightly, waiting patiently for the door to swing open with a soft creak as you entered. While you wouldn't call your small and rather overpriced apartment perfect, it felt more like a home than even he expected it to be. A small kitchen gave way into a bigger living room. Your record player was placed on top of an aged wooden table—piles of books stacked haphazardly through the place.

Miguel eyed the various plants you’d managed to keep alive—each of them pointed towards the one large window on the opposite wall. A place where sunlight no doubt streamed in on early mornings.

He originally believed it would look modern; more like the outside city and world as a whole. Yet your home resembled something old. A place that stood still against the ravages of time—as if it were merely a museum and he was there to admire its antiques.

“I know it’s not much.” You shifted a small pile of clean clothes off the chair, moving it towards an empty laundry basket in the hallway.

“It’s nice,” he said, and he actually meant it. “Es acogedor.”

You could see the truth in his eyes, the flicker of something familiar coming through the crimson. As if he’d known a life like this once. You wanted to ask him. See if he’d tell you more than just his name—perhaps why his eyes were that color—but you knew tonight wasn’t about making this more than it was. In reality you both needed this. No strings, no commitment. Merely two people looking to release themselves from the heaviness of the day.

He turned, catching you staring blatantly at him. “You want me to make you a drink?”

The question threw you off and your expression must have given you away—his lips curling into a grin. “I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Heat curled low in your stomach, spreading with every step he took until the tips of his shoes met yours. He bent down, hand curling around the nape of your neck, fingers digging in slightly. Chills spread down your spine, goosebumps rising along your arms, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this. To remain oblivious to everything happening around you.

Everything except him.

He brought his lips closer, his breath washing across your cheek. “So ask me,” he breathed.

“Do you want me to—”

Cutting you off he dragged you closer, practically hauling you up to his chest as his lips covered yours. It sent your mind reeling, your hands digging into his hair as if on instinct. As if you knew exactly what he wanted. As if…you’d done this before. Something intoxicating built up in your body, turning your brain foggy when his hands slid down, cupping your ass and dragging a moan from your throat.

He met your sound with one of his own—a ragged grunt that came from low in his chest. The echo of it reverberating through your body. You knew what this was. What it wouldn’t become. Yet you couldn’t stop the longing in your heart—the yearning that refused to be locked away in your mind. You wondered what it would be like if this was more. Would it always feel this…electric?

Something pulled you together and you couldn’t determine what it was. Except at that moment you couldn’t even determine your own name.

His tongue swept in your mouth, shoving all your thoughts aside and bringing forth something new. A feeling so strong you found yourself grasping for him tighter, pulling him closer as he licked deeply into you—tasting the alcohol on your tongue.

“Bedroom,” you gasped, yanking on the strands of his hair and earning another delicious grunt.

“Donde—”

“Down the hall.”

Stumbling back you felt his hand hitch your leg over his hip, nearly dragging you with him. Yet you could hardly complain. You were pretty sure that if he let you go you’d go falling to the ground from his touch alone. He moved your head where he wanted, lips slotting over yours and spit nearly trailing down your chin. A rush of slick poured into your panties, your nails scratching along his scalp as he nearly hit the wall, pressing you against it and hitching your other leg up.

“Fuck.”

You tried to tell him that you needed more, that you wanted him inside of you, but all that came out was a breathy moan. His hips grinded into yours, a soft moan being pressed to the shell of your ear, and that alone nudged you towards something earth-shattering.

His lips slid back along yours, hands grasping for any skin he could reach as you practically shoved your hips against his. The desperation practically seeped into the air—permeating your tongue with its cloying flavor. Words were exchanged for moans, tender moments now shifting into something quicker and faster. You wanted to feel him against you as fast as humanly possible, but Miguel was eager to remain here. Holding you up against the wall and kissing you until you ran out of oxygen.

“So I take it that’s a no on the drink?” you breathed, smiling at the small frustrated sound echoed in the back of his throat.

“Cállate,” he grunted, hiking you up and grinning at the yelp that was muffled into his mouth.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt him begin to move—heading towards your bedroom. The door remained open from earlier and you thanked yourself for making sure to keep the place tidy before leaving for work today. Before you could detach yourself from him and lead him to your bed, he turned and sat down. Taking you with him until you were sprawled on his lap.

“Tú eres hermoso,” you mumbled against his lips, watching in delight as his expression shifted. Surprise spreading across his chiseled features.

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” he replied, a small grin playing on his lips.

You shrugged, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Guess we’re doing tonight backwards.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands beneath your shirt until it was clear that he wanted it off. You complied with ease. Allowing him to drop the fabric to the floor as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the pretty lace of your bra. The crimson you’d come to admire darkened to something you’d call a burgundy—lust clouding his gaze. He wanted to take you apart. To see the inner workings of your body—your mind. Anything he could get his hands on. And you’d let him.

There was no doubt that Miguel had gotten beneath your skin in such a short amount of time. He filled your home with a feeling you hadn’t had before. Something tangible and real. Something you wanted to keep.

“Guapísima,” he murmured, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over the spot where your nipples poked through the fabric. A soft jolt rolled down your spine at the feeling.

Warmth clung to your chest, filling you to the brim with a sensation you’d only had once before in your life. Only this was different. This didn’t feel new or like you were just discovering it. No, this felt familiar. As if it had been hiding away in your heart, biding its time until you crossed his path—until you found one another. You wanted to wrap yourself in it, sink into its comfort, and you wondered if he felt it too.

The strange way all of this felt right.

Like coming home after being away for so long.

“Miguel,” you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your chest. The heat of his lips sticking to your already burning skin—his tongue trailing along the tops of your breasts.

He pulled down the fabric, taking your nipple into his mouth—practically lighting up on the inside when you cried out softly. Your hand dug into his hair, tugging on the strands as he scraped his teeth against you. Drawing out every sound he could find hidden in the depths of your chest. Your hips ground against him, clit pulsing with a need that would only be satiated by his touch.

For a moment you worried that he wouldn’t continue his path. That he’d ignore the way you were practically panting for him—the pleas falling from your lips with ease. But then his hand dipped beneath your waistband, fingers trailing along the edge of your panties. Your eyes nearly rolled back, hips canting up as you tried to get him to go further—to release you of this agony. But he held still. Entirely focused on driving you to the very brink of insanity; continuing the path with his teeth and tongue along your chest until the skin was tender.

“Impatient are we?” he mused, nose brushing against your jaw—the grin prominent in his voice.

You huffed, gripping tightly onto his hair and dragging his head up. “A tease are we?”

A moan ripped from his throat, his hips jolting up into yours at the slight sting of pain that bloomed in his head. His eyes were heavy, mouth parted as he took in a deep breath, and you could have sworn that you’d never see a prettier sight again. He looked at you as one would a statue in a museum. Tracing the curves and dips of your body with eyes that resembled the color of blood. Eyes that would never leave your mind again.

His tongue swept across his bottom lip, teeth protruding outwards slightly and you had half a mind to ask him about it. To question how exactly he had fangs, but your desire won out on the logical part of your mind. Leaning forward you licked your tongue along them, feeling how he shivered beneath your touch—how his body sang a tune you could match.

“Careful,” he rumbled, his hand pressing against your back and bringing you even closer. “I might bite.”

You smiled, sliding your palms beneath the collar of his shirt, the hot skin beneath warming your cold fingers instantly. “Sounds like a promise to me.”

“I’m not good with promises.” He let you pull his shirt up, raising his arms and helping where you couldn’t reach.

Even you couldn’t deny there was something so domestic about this. How he carefully shifted you so that you were now pressed into the mattress. His large frame looming over you—hair falling into his eyes as he looked down. It felt natural; the fluid movements were almost instinctive. Like your bodies knew what to do before you could even comprehend anything happening. You wanted to blame the alcohol—or hell perhaps it was the lust that was making you slightly lose it—but you saw it beneath the surface of his slightly guarded expression.

He felt it too.

Perhaps even more.

“Come here,” you breathed, cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips back where they belonged—where they felt the most right.

You felt his hands fall to the waistband of your pants, popping open the button and you were quick to raise your hips, helping him push them down. There was a swiftness to his movements. Like he knew what you wanted before you did—something telling him that you were ready to keep going. But that would be scientifically impossible. No one could predict things that way. Yet you couldn’t help but go back to the color of his eyes—the fangs that now scraped along your throat and down your shoulder.

He seemed to be a scientific marvel. Something unknown.

“Your tur—oh—” Your head fell back, lips falling open when his hand dipped even lower, fingers sliding into your soaked panties.

A groan echoed in the room, his lips finding yours again as he gathered the slick that pooled at your entrance and dragged it back to your clit. Setting a slow and maddening pace that had you grasping for his shoulders. Your nails pricked the skin so hard you knew there would be marks later. He pressed down, sparks scorching your body, and grinned at your reaction. How your eyes squeezed shut, leg kicking out and hips pushing into his hand.

“So wet for me.” He sunk one finger into you, tearing a whine from your throat.

“Mig—” The breath caught in your lungs. “I want—fuck—please…”

He shushed you gently, lips sliding against yours messily as he worked you open, slipping another finger into you with ease. “I know amorcito. I’ve gotta open you up for me.”

Something pulled at your stomach, tightening slowly as he continued to pump his fingers into you—the wet squelch of your slick echoing in the room. You knew you were dripping down his hand, that he was able to slip in a third finger as he went. But that didn’t mean he would stop. No Miguel had become hooked on the sounds coming from your lips—the moans that you didn’t try to stifle. He curled his fingers and struck against the spongy part of your walls that made you practically curl up into him.

A surprised cry fell from your lips, eyes flying open to see his lips curl into a small grin, before he doubled down. Shifting the angle, he made sure to press the pads of his fingers in the same spot each time, his thumb swiping along your clit. And you felt that building pressure shift. It clawed its way up your throat, settling in your chest as he murmured soft words of praise.

“Dámelo,” he breathed against your lips. “Give it to me bebita.”

As if your body was following his request, you shattered. A choked cry of his name was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue licking deeply into your mouth—fingers rapidly moving to prolong your pleasure. It was too much, yet not enough. The hunger—the desire—screamed in your chest, begging for him to keep going, for this to be more than just one night. Yet you couldn’t speak.

You gulped in air, legs shaking when the pleasure slowly began to fade into a slight pain. But Miguel wasn’t done. He was far from it. Your heart pounded in your chest when he slipped his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your release—the shiny stickiness on his palm letting you know how wet you really were.

“Sabes deliciosa,” he murmured, pressing his tongue back into your mouth and sharing the taste of you.

Your hand fell to his pants, pulling at the buckle of his belt as he shifted—making room between your legs to lay over you. His hand pressing into the mattress above your head. The all encompassing feeling of him surrounded you; pressed you into the small haven he created with his body. Keeping you from the rest of the world as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Your belt is being difficult,” you huffed, head falling back against the pillow.

He laughed, opening it with ease and effectively earning a glare from you.

Miguel had to admit there was an ease to being around you. The weight he usually felt hanging atop his shoulders had been lifted—his mind suddenly clearer and mood better. He wanted to figure out why that was, but you were looking at him with a gaze that caused his heart to stutter. The urge to remain close to you seemed to overtake every other thought that ran through his mind. He rid himself of his pants, helping you pull down the lacy fabric—his lips sliding along your inner calf as he did so.

The light touch of your palm grasping on his hand brought his gaze back up—your small smirk rendering him speechless. Miguel had only been this way a few times in his life. All instances he could count on one hand, but this—you—were bringing out an emotion he would have rather kept locked away. Nervousness.

Leaning up on your elbows, you met him halfway, your arm going around his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. It was by all means…sweet. The passion remained, lingering beneath the surface and searing through your veins, but something else took over. A feeling he wanted to keep.

“Since we’re doing this backwards,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his and cupping his cheek.

Locking your leg around his hip, you used the leverage of his surprise to send him into the mattress, your hands falling to his chest as you perched yourself in his lap. Your lips formed around a smile when he grunted. The feeling of your bare pussy now spread along his cock—your slick dripping down and coating his length—was divine.

“Mierda.” His hands grasped your hips, grinding you forward a bit until the head of cock brushed your clit, ripping a gasp from your chest.

“F-fuck—” Your head fell forward, teeth digging into your lip.

“You’re gonna fuck me amorcito?” he asked, a flash of something dangerous echoing in his eyes. “Gonna ride me?”

You nodded, mouth falling open when he pressed against your entrance. Whatever comment you had died in the back of your throat when he began to sink into you—a slight sting of pain streaking up your spine as you took him slowly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to open you up, but still it was a stretch. A soft whisper of praise echoed in your ear, his thumb circling your clit to counteract the pain. Even still you dug your nails into his chest, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later on.

“You can take it,” he murmured, thumb curling around your chin. “You can take it like a good girl.”

A whine caught in your throat, your hips canting down with each small thrust until you were seated in his lap again. His cock filling you completely—the stuffed sensation nearly too much for you. Miguel leaned up, catching your lips in a soft kiss; giving you time to adjust. Yet you felt the sharp need of desire work its way through your body, begging for you to keep going, to take everything he would give you.

“How do you feel?” He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb, his other hand cupping your ass.

“F-Full,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, allowing you to lift yourself off his cock slowly—slick coating him down to the coarse hair at his base.

The pace was lazy, barely even there, and he watched. His eyes tracked each movement you made, each time your hips shifted forward to change the angle. He burned the image of you fucking yourself on his cock into his brain—watching as you did exactly what you said you were going do. Ride him.

Scraping your nails down his stomach, you heard him groan, his hips thrusting up slightly and forcing a cry from your throat. You wanted more. Wanted to feel him fuck you into the mattress, but the familiar pressure was already forming again. Building in your stomach with each stunted thrust—the head of his cock brushing against the spot he’d found earlier.

“I’m—” Your head fell back, hips shifting forward to catch it perfectly—eyes squeezing shut. “‘M gonna—o-oh…”

“That’s it,” he rasped, guiding your hips and slamming you down onto him with a strength that made you sob, your hands grasping for any part of him you could reach. “Cum on my cock amorcito. Wanna see you—ah fuck—”

Your hips stuttered, eyes rolling back as the wave crashed over you, nearly pulling you under. A cry echoed in the room, your walls clamping down, and for a moment you felt nothing but bliss. You went blind with it, your body tipping forward into him as he continued to move you in short thrusts, dragging it on even more. Miguel grunted against your throat, sitting up fully and holding you close as you rode out your release, your body practically falling limp against him.

Eventually you felt yourself come back, your hands dragging through his hair as he placed kisses up and down your neck, arms tightening around you. Your legs barely worked, head still fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm. But the desire still remained, stroking the fire slowly until it once again began to seep through your system. Warming your body.

He was still hard, throbbing against your fluttering walls. That alone caused you to moan softly, your hips shifting down and lips pressing against his jaw.

“You didn’t finish,” you murmured, nails scraping against the back of his neck. The small goosebumps that appeared had a lazy smile curling on your lips.

He ached for that sweet release, wanted to flip you over and chase it, but he didn’t want to leave. At least not yet. There was something about taking his time with you that called to the part of him that had always wanted more. A part he’d crushed over and over again. Claiming it wasn’t necessary. There was no room in his life for that irritating emotion people referred to as love—no space in his heart.

Until a space began to slowly open up. He could barely find it, barely even see the small gash you’d made in the armor around his heart. But he’d discover it eventually.

“I want to see you cum,” you said softly, eyes glimmering with need.

“Bebita—”

Licking along his bottom lip you felt his cock twitch, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass a little harder. “Want to feel it, Miguel. Need it.”

“Shit.” He felt the breath get punched from his lungs, your words sending a streak of heat down his spine. “Yeah? You want it that bad?”

You nodded, lifting yourself on shaky legs only to drop back down, impaling yourself on his cock. He spit out another broken curse, his head falling back briefly before you were tossed back—your body slamming against the mattress. You yelped, eyes going wide when he shifted over you, body covering yours in a way that had a haze settling in your mind. He grinned, fangs digging into his bottom lip as he spread your thighs—hooking them over his forearms and nearly bending you in half.

“All you had to do was ask,” he purred, guiding himself back into your dripping pussy and sinking in with ease.

Gasping, you clawed at his shoulders when he hit so much deeper, the angle changing everything. You wanted to shout his name, to tell him how good it felt, but he’d already started to pull back, shoving himself into you with a strength that sent you up the bed. A ragged sound was pulled from your chest, eyes rolling back when he brushed against that spot so much easier—grinding against it in a way that had your body going numb with pleasure.

“Look at you taking me so well,” he muttered, curling over your body and sending your knees up near your head.

“O-Oh…god!”

“Cosita linda.” His body was tense, teeth baring as he continued to pound into you at a pace that built your release so quick it burned through you. “Pretty fucking thing. Letting me fuck you like this. Perfecta—”

You cried out, nails breaking the skin of his back—leaving deep marks. Tears streamed down your temples, spit falling down your chin when he leaned in to kiss you. He was everywhere. His scent permeated your senses, taste now permanently etched on your tongue, and yet that still wasn’t enough. There was something about him that made you want to crack open your heart and give it to him. Offer yourself up entirely in the hopes he’d accept. He surrounded you, filled your entire being with nothing but him, and you loved it.

Your body went taut, eyes flying open to see him staring down where you were connected, how his cock disappeared into your leaking pussy.

He smiled, hands digging into your hips so tight it sparked a delicious pain when you sobbed incoherently. “I can feel you.�� His breath stuttered when your walls clamped down—brows pulling tight and mouth falling open in a silent shout. “That’s it. C’mon—” He gasped, fingers falling to your aching clit and circling it quickly. “Cum on my fucking cock. Soak me.”

This time the release wasn’t built steadily to give you time to prepare. You could barely breathe, your lungs screaming for some small amount of air. Yet your body seemed to be solely focused on one thing. A broken shout of his name left your lips, echoing in the room, combining sinfully with the sound of skin against skin and your slick. His thumb found your clit, pinching it between his fingers and something in you broke.

It slammed into you unexpectedly, dragging out a loud keening wail—white flashing behind your tightly closed eyes as it rushed through you. Flooded every sense you had until all you could comprehend was him chasing his own release. He fucked into you with short stunted thrusts until he fell forward, his lips colliding with yours—a ragged cry being pressed into your mouth.

He spurted into your already dripping pussy, filling you deliciously and sending another flicker of warmth down to the tips of your fingers. His chest heaved, lips swollen and eyes dazed, and you wanted to solidify the sight in your mind. Except the reality of what this was would eventually come crashing back down. Reminding you that he was not yours to have. That you were simply two passing stars in a tangled web of this universe, meant to part ways.

He let your legs fall back to the bed, slipping out of you with a hiss before he flopped onto his back, dragging you with him. His cum dripped down your inner thigh, smearing against the skin. But for now you let it happen. Content to remain right there, feeling his chest rise and fall as he attempted to catch his breath. His fingers traced lightly along your spine, line after line until you realized what it was that he was drawing.

A web.

Or at least…that’s what it felt like.

“I don’t think I can move,” you mumbled, smiling into his skin when he laughed—the sound low and rough.

“That’s a good thing I hope,” he replied, glancing down at you—eyes tracing the curve of your hip and breast that pressed into his side.

You placed a kiss on his shoulder, hand splaying across his stomach. “Definitely.”

Silence enveloped the both of you like a comfortable blanket, filling the space with a soft feeling. It lulled you into a state of peace. Sleep nearly overtaking you. Yet you fought against it. Too busy taking in what he looked like—attempting to commit him to memory lest you never see him again. You wanted him burned into your brain, each memory tattooed into place permanently. But that’s not how life went.

This wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t yours.

So you settled against his body, soaking in the warmth he emanated and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. His breath came in slower, arm curling around you as he fell asleep gradually—his heart a steady thrum in his chest. An echo that allowed sleep to drag you beneath the surface, giving way to something peaceful.

The loud angry beep of your alarm clock jolted you awake, your eyes flying open and body aching as you sat up quickly. There was a mess of blankets on your floor, obviously kicked off in the middle of the night. It seemed that with the heat of the outside world and his body, you were content to sleep with a thin sheet wrapped around you. Yet where you expected to find clothes left haphazardly around the room, you found nothing.

Your clothes that had been stripped off now lay in a pile on your chair, shoes placed by the end of your bed. Last night was clear to you now. The all consuming bliss, the way he had felt buried inside of you—how he had touched you. And while you understood it was merely a one night stand. You couldn’t stop the disappointment from seeping into your chest.

The sight of him completely erased from your apartment put a damper on an otherwise good morning.

Sighing, you swung yourself into a sitting position at the end of your bed. A throbbing headache began to spread along your skull. No doubt the cause of waking up too fast. Either that or the alcohol had actually decided to give you a bitch of a hangover. You’d have to figure that out later. The reminder of what the day held for you flickered bright and blaring in your mind—killing whatever joy you had left in your chest.

“Fuck,” you spit, dropping your head in your hands as you finally settled on one conclusion. You were about to be fired.

You had about an hour before you had to rush out the door. Giving you enough time to find out how to stop the delicious ache in between your thighs from going away. The echo of the outside world drifted up through your somehow open window and you raised your eyes, gazing at the spot where he had been only a few hours ago.

Only to catch sight of a glass of water placed on your nightstand—a ripped piece of paper beneath it. You practically lunged for it, hands carefully sliding the paper out and eyes tracing the messy scribble of what you assumed to be his writing. The message was short. Direct. It could barely even be considered sweet, but you saw the tenderness through the short sentence—the care in his action of leaving you with something to remember him by.

I had a lot of fun.

So we can do things the right way next time.

— Miguel

Beneath the message a phone number was scrawled, as if he’d been hesitant to even put it there in the first place. But it seemed that you weren’t the only one to feel that strange connection. That lingering sensation of familiarity whenever you thought about him. There was something to uncover between you. Perhaps the something more that you were aching for last night.

You had no clue.

Yet that didn’t stop you from grabbing your phone and inputting the numbers carefully. Glancing back at each one to make sure that the message wouldn’t disappear before your very eyes. You typed his name at the top, smiling at the contact before sticking a web right beside it. The memory of what he’d traced along your skin coming back to you.

A thrill of joy went through your body, lips pulling up into a wide smile as you pressed the button to send a text. While it may have been too soon—perhaps a bit fast if you were looking at it properly—the warmth in your chest won the battle in the end.

How could something that felt this right be messed up with speed?

How could it go wrong?

#miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #my writing

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fortheloveofwonderland · 11 months

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Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 15 | SR

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Chapter Summary - As the summer begins, Spencer unexpectedly hits it off with a single mom he meets at the pool. The two of you separately try to navigate dating new people.

A/N - we’re just gonna let Spencer have a pseudo happy relationship for like a hot minute and let him realise he misses reader. This will not last forever, I promise.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - moody teenager, Spencer and reader both trying to move on, Spencer trying to flirt, mentions of past abusive relationship, divorce, drunk driving and prison time (none of which pertain to Spencer or reader), mentions of age gap between consenting adults, out of control kids, overwhelmed Luke and Garcia, dog vomit, use of the word “bitch” quite a lot, making out.

WC - 5.9k

Chapter 15 - Happier

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you,

But ain't nobody love you like I do.

Promise that I will not take it personal, baby,

If you're movin' on with someone new.

The BAU returned home from their case four days later and Luke called Spencer in regards to helping train his wayward dog.

In those four days Spencer threw himself into summer activities with his daughters to stem his need for alcohol.

On Monday the temperature skyrocketed suddenly, over ninety degrees which was unusual for Virginia. Even with the AC cranked up the house was like a sauna. So somewhat reluctantly he’d taken them to the local pool.

And he got a whole lot more than he bargained for.

Unsurprisingly the pool had been packed and he only managed to secure one deck chair but Lily and Daisy didn’t intend to sit with him anyway.

He’d already slathered them in sunblock before they left the house but insisted on putting more on them when they arrived.

Lily didn’t mind so much but Daisy fussed, uttering things like “god dad you’re so embarrassing” while he simply tried to stop her from burning in the sun.

As soon as he was finished with them, they ran off towards the pool, leaving him alone on his sole deck chair.

He rubbed some more sunblock on his face, arms and shins, the only skin exposed to the elements. He left his t-shirt on, not particularly enjoying the idea of being half naked around a packed pool full of strangers.

He brought a bag full of books, given his reading speed he’d need them to stay entertained while his kids played in the pool.

He settled back in the chair, laying his head back and swinging his legs up, plucking out the first book.

It was noisy and busy, patrons packed in like sardines in a tin. It wasn’t exactly the relaxing summer vacation he’d had planned.

The sun was hot and heavy in the sky and he already felt the sweat gathering at his temples.

Kids ran rampant screaming and yelling at one another while fathers bellowed to their children to behave. With the exception of the beach, this was probably the last place he ever wanted to be.

He opened the book to the first page while glancing out at the pool. Lily and Daisy were together in the shallow end, Daisy holding her little sister's hand.

It made his heart swell. The girls had their problems from time to time but on the whole they got on really well. Daisy was always protective of her younger sibling, even if Lily annoyed her sometimes.

He looked back at his book and started to read, glancing up at the girls every few minutes to ensure they were still ok.

About twenty minutes passed before he felt like he was being watched.

He frowned to himself, those old FBI instincts never leaving him. He closed his book and turned to his left. Low and behold there was someone on the chair beside him watching him intently.

“Sorry,” she blushed a little as Spencer regarded her. “I was amazed how deep in concentration you were given everything going on.”

“Right,” he smiled, nodding his head. “Guess I’m good at switching off outside stimuli.”

She smiled at him, a really pretty smile in Spencer’s opinion. She had dark, almost black hair which was tied up off of her face and dazzling blue eyes.

“Lucky you, I wish I could do that.” She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of her chair and Spencer found himself doing the same. “I’m Blair.”

She held out her hand and Spencer shook it.

“Spencer.” He replied.

“Which one is yours?” Blair nodded towards the pool.

Spencer glanced around to see Daisy floating on her back in the water while her little sister spun herself around in circles, sending small waves crashing about.

“The brunette in the red bathing suit and the little one with the curly hair spinning about.” He smiled at his girls. “Yours?”

“Sitting on the edge, hasn’t taken his eyes off of your eldest.” She laughed.

Spencer’s eyes gravitated towards a boy around Daisy’s age on the edge of the pool. His eyes, that looked just like his mothers, were staring directly at his daughter.

He had a head of floppy dark hair, he looked to be tall even though he was sitting down. He awkwardly played with his hands in his lap whilst watching Daisy gracefully drift in the pool.

“Maybe we’ll have to make an introduction.” Spencer laughed as he looked back at Blair.

He did not miss the way her eyes glanced down to his left hand and he couldn’t help the way he returned the favour.

“Single dad?” She asked with a slightly melancholy smile.

“Yeah, me and their mom split up.” He nodded. “You?”

“Cameron’s dad was…not a nice man.” She replied, pulling a face.

Spencer could read between the lines.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth.

“It’s ok. He’s not around anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.” She forced a smile and even if it wasn't genuine it was still so pretty. “We were going to go for ice cream after this. Maybe you and your girls want to join us? We could introduce Cameron and…”

“Daisy. And the little one is Lily.”

“Cute names.” Blair smiled again and this time it was genuine.

“Not my choice, but thanks.” He laughed dryly. “And yes to ice cream. I think it’s safe to say we would all really enjoy that.”

“Great.”

“Great.” Spencer repeated dumbly, getting a little lost in Blair's eyes.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer felt something akin to decent.

***

He and Blair spent the next hour talking about anything and everything, his bag of books long forgotten.

She was the manager of an art gallery near DuPont circle, born and raised in the district. Her and her husband were high school sweethearts, marrying when they were just twenty two and having Cameron two years later.

She explained as much as her ex having a temper which didn’t manifest until after Cameron was born. She described him as controlling and intimidating but Spencer could tell by the way she shrunk a little as she spoke about him that he’d been abusive.

She said the last time she saw him was around the time Cameron turned ten, when he was being sentenced to prison time after a drunk driving incident where he’d killed two people.

She’d sent divorce papers to his lawyer a month later.

At thirty eight she was six years Spencer’s junior, but he’d always had a bit of a thing for a younger woman. It was certainly a pattern, both you and Maeve were younger than him which probably said all it needed to.

After a while, during a conversation about literature, Spencer felt a wet body suddenly wrapping around him from behind.

“Daddy, I’m bored.” Lily threw her arms around his neck, cuddling into his back.

“Hey pumpkin, where’s your sister?” He pulled her out from behind him and into his lap.

Lily pointed over his shoulder to where Daisy was strolling towards them, a lanky young man at her side.

He looked at Blair and they smiled at each other.

“You make a friend, Daisy?” Spencer looked back at her.

“Uh, yeah. This is Cam. This is my dad.” She rolled her eyes.

“Daisy, Lily, this is Blair. Cameron’s mom. We were going to go for ice cream with them, how does that sound?”

“Ice cream!” Lily screeched, wriggling in Spencer’s lap.

He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his giggling daughter.

“Sure, why not?” Daisy shrugged like she couldn’t care less as did Cameron.

Typical teenagers, Spencer thought.

He dried off Lily and had Daisy take her to the restrooms so they could both get changed. Cameron stayed as he hadn’t gone in the pool and didn’t have his wet clothes to change out of.

Spencer and Blair packed up their things and once the girls were back they left their respective cars at the pool and walked the two blocks to the ice cream place.

Daisy refused to sit with the adults and she and Cameron got their own table. Lily tried to sit with them too but her sister shooed her away.

Pouting due to be shot down by Daisy, she grew clingy and snuggled right up to Spencer while she ate her ice cream.

“Looks like they’re hitting it off.” Blair spoke between mouthfuls of her scoop, nodding towards the two teens.

“Looks that way.” Spencer nodded, feeling Lily’s ice cream dripping onto his shorts. “Lil, sweetheart, be careful please.”

“Sorry daddy.” She pouted.

Spencer and Blair continued to chat while Lily sulked by her dads side and the teens kept to themselves.

After a while Daisy appeared by their table, arms folded across her chest.

“Can we go to the pool again tomorrow?” She asked him.

“Can I assume Cameron is going to the pool tomorrow?” He teased her.

“Dad shut up!” She huffed. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“Was I going to be consulted?” Blair asked her son as he joined them.

Cameron shrugged, looking equally the part of moody teenager as Daisy did.

“I thought we were going to the Smithsonian tomorrow? There was that exhibit you wanted to look at.” Spencer asked his daughter.

“No, that sounds lame.” She shook her head.

“I don’t think it sounds lame.” Cameron nudged her arm gently.

“No?” She smiled at him, practically giving him heart eyes.

“Can we go too mom?” Cameron turned to Blair.

“As long as they don’t mind the company, I don’t see why not.” Blair’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Spencer and Spencer smiled a little bashfully.

“That would be great.” He nodded.

“Gross, get a room.” Daisy scoffed, turning and skulking off again, Cameron close behind.

“Please never grow up.” He whispered to Lily, placing a kiss on her head.

“Ok daddy.” She nodded, mouth smeared with her mint choc chip.

***

Spencer and Blair exchanged numbers before going their separate ways. On Tuesday the five of them met up at the Smithsonian.

As was expected, Daisy and Cameron went on ahead while Spencer, Blair and Lily strolled behind them.

Conversation with Blair flowed easily, as if he’d known her his whole life. They had a lot in common, including being single parents with issues towards their exes.

Maybe she was exactly what Spencer needed. It was nice to talk to someone who understood him, who understood where he’d been. Blair took his mind off everything going on in his life, eased his troubles with her smile.

They ended up spending the whole day together, it seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. As the kids were getting into their cars, Spencer and Blair hung back.

“I had a really nice time today.” She smiled that easy smile at him and he reciprocated.

“So did I.” He agreed.

“I wondered if maybe you’d be interested in doing something again. Maybe without the kids?” She shrugged shyly.

“I would like that a lot.” He nodded. “The girls only go to their moms every other weekend but I can get a sitter.”

“When were you thinking?”

“As soon as humanly possible?” He confessed which made her laugh.

“Eager?” She chuckled lightly, a sound Spencer really enjoyed.

“Maybe a little.” He laughed too. “My friends have pretty demanding jobs though and they're out of state at the moment. The minute they’re back I can get one of them to sit the girls and I’d love to take you to dinner.”

“Sounds perfect.” Blair nodded, stepping a little closer and placing a gentle kiss on Spencer’s cheek. “See you soon, Spencer.”

“You most certainly will.” He swallowed, watching her get into her car before he moved towards his own.

He smiled the whole drive home.

***

On Wednesday he and the girls stayed home. The temperature dropped a few degrees and they mostly played in the yard with Taco.

On Thursday Daisy went to the mall with Meredith and Meredith’s mother so Spencer took Lily and Taco to the park.

In the evening Luke called to tell him they’d arrived back from their case and arranged to come over on Friday to help with his dog problems.

“One more thing,” Spencer said before Luke had a chance to hang up.

“Shoot,” Luke replied.

“I don’t suppose you and Garcia want some quality time with the girls tomorrow night do you?”

“Sick of them already? Man, it's gonna be a long summer.” Luke laughed.

“It’s not that.” Spencer chewed his lip.

“Oh,” Luke read between the lines. “You and Y/N make up?”

Spencer hated the way his chest tightened hearing your name and tried to ignore it.

“Uh, not exactly.” He sighed. “I might have met someone else.”

“Jeez, you’re like a woman magnet recently.” Luke laughed. “How are you finding these women?”

“I met her at the pool. She’s a single mom and she’s great, really great. We’ve hung out with the kids but I want to take her dinner.”

“Sure, Garcia and I can come by and look after the girls.”

“Or…” Spencer chewed his lip again. “They could come to your place?”

There were a few moments of silence in which Luke was once again reading between the lines.

“Right,” the older man started to laugh again. “Can’t bring a date home when you’ve got kids there. Got it.”

“That makes me sound like an ass.” Spencer sighed. “But you know, on the off chance that’s on the cards…”

“They can come to my place. I’ve got the guest room so I’d they don’t mind sharing then it’s no issue for me.”

“Have I told you that you are the best?”

“Not lately, no.” Luke rolled his eyes.

“Well, you are. Oh and please don’t tell anyone.”

Luke chuckled to himself, shaking his head before he responded.

“See you tomorrow, lover boy.”

***

You stood on the curb outside of the restaurant, hugging your arms around your waist whilst thinking, not for the first time tonight, why am I doing this?

It was your first official date with Sam, your old college friend and now you were here you didn’t know why.

The two of you had been close in college and you’d always had a little crush on him. He was smart and handsome and charming but you’d always remained just friends. After college you’d lost touch.

When you’d bumped into each other a few weeks ago you’d picked back up like no time had passed. You’d had dinner as friends, gotten coffee a few times but then he’d asked you out on a date.

If you’d never met Spencer, going on a date with your college crush would have been like all your wildest dreams come true. But you had met Spencer, and along the way forgotten all about Sam.

And now you were outside of the restaurant, looking in on him through the window, this was the last place in the world you wanted to be.

You liked Sam, there was still a spark between you. But he wasn’t Spencer.

As you were considering turning and leaving, calling him and telling him you’d come down with something, he spotted you through the window.

He waved at you and offered you that devilishly attractive smile and you waved back, trying to push down all thoughts of Spencer as you forced yourself inside.

He stood as soon as you neared the table and pulled you into his strong arms. His musky cologne smelt delicious and for a moment you were able to cast Spencer Reid from your mind.

“You look absolutely beautiful.” Sam beamed at you as he pulled away.

“Thank you.” You blushed a little, smoothing down the front of your sunflower yellow sundress.

Sam held your chair out for you and you slid into it, making yourself comfortable while he made his way to his own seat.

“I ordered a bottle of Merlot, I hope that’s ok? I remember it being your favourite.”

“Wow, good memory.” You smiled a little nervously.

“I never forgot a single thing about you.” He confessed, placing his napkin in his lap. “I had the biggest crush on you in college.”

“You did?” Your mouth fell open.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t exactly subtle.” He chuckled.

“I honestly had no idea. I wish I had, because I also had a huge crush on you.” You felt your cheeks burning.

“Well damn,” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “I guess we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“I guess so.” You nodded as your wine was brought over.

You perused your menus and soon ordered, and the two of you fell into comfortable conversation. That is until the topic of your dating history was brought up.

Sam admitted he’d dated a lot but never managed to settle down. When he turned the question back to you, you took a large sip of wine as Spencer reentered your brain.

“Honestly I haven’t really dated all that much. I was busy I guess. There was one guy, more recently, but it didn’t work out.” You chewed awkwardly on the inside of your cheek.

“The professor?”

“Huh?”

“You mentioned the professor you were working for, Reid? I noticed you got a little uncomfortable when you spoke about him and I wondered if there was a history.” Sam was smiling at you but you couldn’t return it.

“Yeah that was him.” You took another sip of wine. “He was…complicated. Two kids, an ex-wife who he was most certainly still in love with even though he would pretend otherwise.”

“Jeez,” Sam pulled a face. “That is complicated.”

“Tell me about it.” You sighed.

“Well, I’m just about as uncomplicated as they come.” He shot you one of those smiles that always made your knees a little weak.

“I like uncomplicated.” You smiled back.

“And I like you.” He slid his hand across the table and threaded his fingers with your own.

And when he touched you like that, Spencer was once again the furthest thing from your mind.

***

Luke made some progress with Taco which was more than Spencer expected. After a few gruelling hours the dog was responding to the commands of sit and stay which was impressive if you asked Spencer.

Luke told him it wouldn’t be easy, Taco wasn’t a puppy and therefore wouldn’t be as easy to train but Luke was certainly up to the challenge.

When the evening rolled around Spencer got ready for his date and Luke took the girls and Taco back to his place where Penelope was meeting them.

Spencer was strangely nervous as he got ready, but not necessarily in a good way. He remembered the excitement he felt on his first date with you and this was nothing like that.

Perhaps he knew this wasn’t right. Deep down something was telling him he shouldn’t go ahead with this. His own mental health and his kids needed to be his priority, he needed to focus on bettering himself for the girls.

But you’d made him realise just how lonely he was. And now he remembered what it was like to have someone he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone again. Even if it wasn’t you keeping him company.

He pushed down his nerves and thoughts of you, it wasn’t conducive and therefore he didn’t need to be plagued by it.

He finished getting ready, fighting his daily battle with his perpetually messy hair, before jumping in his car and heading out to meet Blair.

***

The first stumbling block happened within a few minutes of sitting down in the restaurant when Blair asked him if he wanted to get a bottle of wine.

He couldn’t very well admit to a woman whose husband was arrested for drunk driving that he was recovering from alcohol abuse. Instead he tried to talk his way out of it.

“I’m driving so it’s probably best I don’t drink.” He chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Ok, just a glass then?” She smiled at him and he melted a little, almost agreeing because a glass of wine really would help take the edge off.

But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t.

“You know, I’ve not been feeling a hundred percent today so I think I’m going to just stick to water. Please have whatever you want though.” He insisted, trying to deflect.

“Oh, we could have rescheduled.” She pulled a face.

“It’s ok, I’m fine. I just don’t think alcohol would be a good idea.” That wasn’t a lie, alcohol would not be a good idea.

He felt like he dodged a bullet when she didn’t mention it any further. But the second stumbling block came after they had ordered their food.

“So I told you about my ex, you didn’t really tell me about yours.” She smiled sweetly, no idea the can of worms she was opening with that statement.

Spencer sipped his water, trying to pretend it was scotch but failed and was left disappointed.

“Uh, well, let’s see,” he took another sip. “We were married for thirteen years but for the last three of those, she was cheating on me.” He thought it best to just rip it off like a bandaid.

“Oh gosh,” Blair frowned around her wine glass. “That’s horrible.”

“I mean, it's nothing in comparison to what you’ve been through but yeah, it certainly wasn’t great.”

“I figured something must have happened because you said the girls only see her every two weeks.”

“I tried to fight for full custody if I’m honest.” He shrugged with a sigh. “But she is still their mom.”

“When did you split up, if you don’t mind me asking?” She swirled her wine around in her glass.

“A little over a year ago. It’s been tough but my girls are resilient.”

“And you?” Her eyes sparkled a little.

Was he going to make the same mistake with you and lie about his feelings? He didn’t see the point if he was honest. He’d lied to you because he didn’t want to freak you out, to cause you to end things before they’d really begun. But if he scared off Blair he wasn’t sure it would be the end of the world.

“Honestly, I’m still working through some stuff. It took me a long time to admit even to myself that I was hurt by what she did. I’m still processing my feelings, and if that’s not what you want to hear I’m sorry. But we were married for a long time and it is still kinda fresh.” He exhaled, took another sip of water.

“People think because they’re the ones who did the terrible thing that you should be glad to be rid of them.” She half-smiled. “As you’ve probably figured out, my ex was abusive and all my friends told me I should be happy to finally be out of that relationship. But they didn’t get it. No one does.

We had so many good times in the early years, he was so wonderful to me and I loved him so much. But then his job started getting on top of him and he started drinking and the alcohol made him angry. For the most part I was relieved that it was over but there’s still a part of me even now that misses him, misses…” she trailed off and swallowed but Spencer knew exactly what she wanted to say.

“You miss what you used to have.” He filled in the blanks. “I understand. Me and my ex had some really good times too and it’s hard to just forget all of that and hate her completely for what she did. She gave me Daisy and Lily and a part of me will always love her for that. People don’t understand though, not unless they’ve been there.”

“Wow,” she smiled a little shakily. “It’s so nice to meet someone who gets it.”

“It really is.” He agreed with his own smile.

Spencer had in one capacity or another felt misunderstood his entire life. But the way Blair was looking at him made him feel seen for the first time.

It allowed him to loosen up, to relax enough to enjoy his evening. He’d only ever wanted someone to understand and he felt like he finally found that in Blair.

***

Luke Alvez leant against the kitchen counter, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.

The sound of the two girls was more than enough, he didn’t need to witness what was going on as well.

Penelope had been gone for twenty minutes to shower and in that time, all hell seemed to have broken loose.

When she emerged from the bedroom, dressed in her brightly coloured pyjama bottoms and matching tank top, she froze in the doorway at the scene in front of her.

Roxy was hiding away in the corner whilst Taco was being held rather precariously under Lily’s arm. She was spinning the poor dog around in circles, jumping up and down on Luke’s couch and scream-singing at the top of her lungs.

Daisy had her head in her phone, narrowly avoiding Lily jumping on her and Garcia could see the anger rising on the older girl's face.

She looked over at Luke in the open plan kitchen and his closed eyes before storming towards him.

“I was gone for twenty minutes!” She slapped his bicep. “What did you do?”

“Me?” He opened his eyes and looked at his girlfriend. “I did nothing!”

“Uncle Luke made hot cocoa!” Lily screeched.

“Did he now?” Penelope frowned at him. “And how much sugar exactly did you put in it?”

“Lots of sugar!” Lily squealed again.

“I swear to god Lily if you hit me one more time!” Daisy spat her at her sister, looking up from her phone.

“Daisy’s texting a boy!” Lily giggled.

Honestly, Taco had the patience of a saint because he didn’t seem at all disturbed by being bounced around the way he was.

“I am not! Shut up!” Daisy growled.

“Are too!” Lily replied, jumping off the couch and landing on the floor. “Daisy and Cameron sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Shut up you brat!” Daisy tossed her phone aside and got up, advancing on her sister.

Luke suddenly jumped into action and crossed the room in barely three strides.

“Whoa!” He lightly placed his hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Please don’t hurt your sister.”

“She’s being a bitch!” Daisy huffed.

“Hey now,” Penelope hurried over. “You do not use language like that.”

“All my friends say it.” She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Daddy says it too!” Lily chimed in, thankfully putting Taco down and he scurried over to Roxy. “I heard him call mommy a bitch. What does it mean?”

“It means-”

“Nothing.” Luke cut Daisy off. “It doesn’t mean anything. But we shouldn’t be saying it ok? It’s an adult word.”

“Ok!” Lily shrugged, going back to jumping up and down. “I’m a rabbit!”

“No you’re not you’re a bit-”

“Do not finish that sentence young lady.” Penelope snapped. She hated being strict but Luke was such a softy she often had to be the bad guy. “Girls enough of this. Daisy, you will not call your sister that word. In fact you will not call anyone that word. And Lily, if your sister is texting a boy leave her to it. She’s fourteen, she’s allowed to text a boy. I think. Does your dad know you’re texting a boy?”

“Dads met him.” She shrugged, not exactly answering the question. “And he’s on a date with Blair, Cam’s mom right now.”

“He’s…he’s…” she turned to Luke who was trying to shrink away. “You said he was out with JJ and Will?”

“Uh…” Luke grabbed her hand and led her towards the kitchen. “He told me not to tell anyone.”

“Even me?” She tried to keep her tone quiet. “How does Daisy know and I didn’t?”

“She’s Reid’s kid, she’s as smart as a whip.” Luke whispered.

“I thought he was…is he incapable of being single?”

“I don’t know what’s going on with him to be honest. I’m kinda worried about him.” Luke admitted.

“Me too.” Penelope pouted.

“Give it back, you bitch!” Daisy yelled, garnering their attention.

“Daisy and Cameron sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N…OW!” Lily screamed.

Penelope and Luke ran back into the room to find Lily on the floor, violently sobbing and Daisy standing over her with a slightly smug look on her face.

“What did you do?” Garcia asked the older girl while Luke picked Lily up in his arms and cradled her.

“She took my phone!” Daisy stamped her foot.

“She pushed me!” Lily wailed.

“It’s ok sweetheart, it’s ok. Let’s lie down.” Luke cooed as he carried her through to his guest room.

“You do not push your sister, Daisy. You know that.” Penelope sighed.

“She’s just such a bitch!”

“For the love of all that is sparkly you have to stop saying that word.” Garcia groaned. “You get a time out, come on.”

She took Daisy’s wrist in her hand and led her to Luke’s bedroom. She opened the door and motioned her inside.

“Phone,” she held out her hand.

“No way.” Daisy scoffed.

“Daisy Diana Reid, give me your phone right now before I call your father.” Penelope growled at the young girl.

Daisy pulled a face, similar to her dad when he was upset. She let out a breath and placed the device in Penelope’s hand.

“Thank you. Now go sit down and think about what you did.” Garcia closed the door on Daisy and padded back to the couch where she flopped down.

Luke emerged from the guest room a few minutes later alone and joined her.

“I know we’ve only just started dating but can I say I don’t think I ever want kids.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Right now I’m gonna have to agree with you.” Penelope nodded.

Luke closed his eyes and took a moment to relish the quiet. But it was very short lived as soon there was a gagging sound coming from the corner of the room.

Both of them looked over just in time to see Taco, the previous activities having caught up on him, vomit all over the carpet.

“I’ll get the cleaning supplies.” Penelope sighed loudly, getting back to her feet.

“I’ll call Reid.”

***

“I had a really great time tonight.” Sam glanced at you with a smile as you walked side by side down the street towards your apartment.

“I did too.” You nodded.

And it was true, you really did have a wonderful time with Sam. Conversation had flowed easily between the two of you, like it had back in college.

So you didn’t have quite the same level of intellectual debate as you did with Spencer. At least Sam was your own age, even if that didn’t necessarily mean you had more in common.

He walked you to your door like a gentleman and you turned to face him on the street. He was smiling down at you, eyes sparkling.

“Would I completely blow my chances of a second date if I kissed you?” He asked somewhat shyly.

“I’d say it would greatly increase your chances of a second date if you were to kiss me.” You smiled.

“Oh thank god.” He chuckled, his nerves melting away.

He stepped closer to you and cupped your face before drawing you in for a tender kiss. It was nice. But it was missing the kind of passion you had with Spencer.

It wasn’t frantic and demanding like Spencer's kisses. It didn’t make your knees buckle or the air leave your lungs.

It was nice. But it wasn’t the same.

Sam pulled back and he was smiling brightly at you, you tried your best to return it.

“I have waited so long to do that.” He laughed.

“I hope it was worth the wait.”

“Most definitely.”

You looked over your shoulder at your building before looking back at him, knowing what you were about to say was an utterly stupid idea. But you said it nonetheless.

“My roommates are out. Do you wanna come inside?”

It didn’t take someone with Spencer’s IQ to figure out what you meant and judging by the look on Sam’s face he knew exactly what you were getting at.

“I would love that. But are you sure?”

In response you simply took hold of his hand and led him up the stairs of your building. You were determined to get Spencer out of your head no matter the cost.

***

After dinner, Spencer held the door of the restaurant open for Blair to exit first and she thanked him with a smile.

They stepped out onto the street and she turned to him.

“I never do this.” She laughed lightly. “I never go on dates.”

“Yeah,” he rolled his lips between his teeth, remembering telling you the same.

“Say, I don’t want to be too forward but I’ve been single a long time so I’m just going to go for it. I would really like to kiss you.” She blushed at her own words and Spencer thought it was incredibly endearing.

“I would also very much like to kiss you.” He agreed, moving closer and cupping her face.

He kissed her and she melted against him, gasping a little at the sensation in which Spencer took the initiative to guide his tongue into her mouth.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close while he deepened the kiss. And he tried not to think about you.

By the time the kiss broke they were both panting slightly and she was smiling at him, eyes sparkling.

“My kids are staying with their uncle tonight,” he blurted out. “So I have a free house. If it’s not too bold of me to say.”

“It is kind of bold.” She laughed. “But I like it.”

He smiled and kissed her again, hoping if he took her home he would banish all thoughts of you aside. But as he kissed her, his phone started to ring.

He pulled back reluctantly and offered Blair an apologetic smile, pulling the device from his pocket and seeing Luke’s name on the screen.

“Sorry I should get this, it could be about my girls.”

“Of course, go ahead.” She nodded and Spencer took a few steps away before answering the phone.

“Is everything ok?” He instantly went into panic mode.

“Uh, not exactly.” Luke sighed. “Lily was hopped up on sugar and annoying Daisy. Daisy kept calling her a…b-i-t-c-h and then she pushed Lily and now Lily won’t stop crying. And your dog was sick everywhere.”

Spencer exhaled sharply, closing his eyes as he let the information wash over him.

“I’ll be right there.” He grumbled.

“Sorry man. We tried.”

“See you soon.” Spencer sighed again, hanging up the phone, moving back towards Blair. “I’m so sorry, my kids have gone rogue. Can we have a rain check?”

“Sure and don’t worry about it. One’s hard enough as a single parent, I can’t imagine having two.”

“It’s like having one, only ten times as hard.” He laughed dryly. “I’ll call you.”

He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and watched as she headed down the street to hail a cab. Soon he was turning in the opposite direction and speed walking towards his car.

Was it too much to ask just to have one night to himself? He loved his girls, more than anything else in the world, but sometimes they made his life harder than he ever could have prepared for.

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @ssa-uglywhore27 @dreatine @thebloomingeagle @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @foxy-eva @kbakery @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @angelicasworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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untoldsoup · 9 months

Text

Just wanted to make a quick update!

I know some people have expressed concern over my mental health because of the speed I get updates out so I figured I would make a post to clear the air.

Yes, I draw 3-4 or more hours a day. And I know it sounds alarming but I'm an introvert. I spend most of my time between work and home. Before starting this comic I would either play video games all day or scroll the Internet. If you look at my blog history, you will see I've actually had this blog since 2020. However before this comic I posted barely anything. Maybe one to two arts a year.

I had a long span of depression and life and health issues that really affected my passion for art (a year of spine problems that also prevented me from drawing until I had emergency surgery). Getting into the mario fandom really reignited my drive to draw again. When I find something I like I hyper fixate on it A LOT. I did the same with starwars for 4 years with a previous blog.

Also, this is my first time actually committing to a comic and I'm having a ton of fun with it, learning new things and fully enjoying the experience.

I do take breaks for other things (over the summer I worked less on the comic and more on other sidlink projects ect) to prevent burnout.

But drawing really is relaxing when I get home from work. I put on youtube or music and work on a page, then do some chores and a few other things before bed.

Not to mention I got a system down now and its easier to start and finish pages than it was at the beginning.

I'm working on the last update now and whats really motivating me is proving to myself I can finish such a large project. Ive never worked on something this big before and there is a sense of pride in completing it. I also plan on working on a ten page epilogue that wont be post on tumblr due to the nsfw rules, but will probably have on bluesky or discord or something.

I think after that I will however take a small break before working on the sequel (I do have the first 12 pages of the sequel ready to go, but it wont be posted till chapters one and two are both finished) just so I dont stress about it.

I'm a very anxious, isolated person and having projects to work on has helped a lot. I also started some depression meds this year that have been a boon to getting stuff done and not being sad all the time lol.

So all is well rn!! I'm on page 57 right now for the comic, and have a long xmas break coming up so I might meet my deadline who knows XD

#updates

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violetsaffron5 · 1 year

Text

Beautiful Disaster (5)

← Chapter 4 • series masterlist • Chapter 6 →

↳ 5 | Ocean's Apart

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

going out on a date with gojo

words: 4.6k

cw: vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, spit kink, light choking, praise kink

an: drama starts next chapter and pretty much stays until the end 🤭

Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

Satoru’s outside the dorm building waiting for you to finish getting ready for your date.

You’d be lying if you said during the week you weren’t curious if the two of you were still going out this weekend or not with how you so unceremoniously left his bedroom last weekend.

He did make it a point to speak with you several times over the week, usually when leaving the classes you have together.

Early Friday morning, he texted saying you should wear something comfortable with a swimsuit underneath and that he’d be around “mid afternoon” on Saturday, which is why you’re just now getting ready.

It doesn’t take long for you to put your hair up before throwing on a two piece swimsuit with a simple dress on over it before walking out the door.

Satoru’s leaning on the passenger door of a white car with a cigarette between his fingers, it sits low to the ground, the rims shine with a light blue.

Satoru’s probably the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen, you decide, with his snow white hair shining in the afternoon sun, razor sharp jaw feathering as he looks out into the distance waiting for you to appear. His high cheekbones are on full display with soft white skin gleaming.

When Satoru turns, he gives a mischievous smirk before tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping on it, “hey baby, you look great.”

Satoru’s dressed just as casually, a soft white fitted tee with swim trunks on. They’re a mixture of black, blues and purples, resembling space with several cubes that have eyes scattered around them sporadically.

“You say that every time you see me,” you’re rolling your eyes wishing you could see his beautiful crystalline orbs but he has them hidden behind his little round sunglasses that he wears all the time.

“I mean it every time,” he replies easily before opening the door for you, letting you slip into the passenger seat of his car.

The interior is more luxurious than anticipated, all black leather seats, it smells like him and to be enveloped in his scent is causing a tingle to run down the center of your spine so you shift, closing your legs a little tighter before thanking him.

He chuckles with a never ending grin before closing the door and making his way to sit next to you, starting the car - it’s completely silent.

Satoru likes to drive a little too fast, you notice on the way to wherever you’re going.

You’d asked several times, only to be met with him grinning, saying it’s a surprise. Your only hint being the swim outfits and a black backpack sitting in the backseat of his car.

Being with him in the car, alone in this proximity it’s impossible not to smile - his presence fills the space so easily it would almost be suffocating if he wasn’t returning the same saccharine smile you have plastered on your face.

When you bite your lip and look away he takes the opportunity to lace his fingers through yours for a few seconds, just long for you to take the time to see just how large his hands really are compared to yours before he takes it back, shifting gears to pass the person in front of him.

Over the last week you decided to take things in stride, give him a real chance despite the things you heard and seen from him.

After all, it’s just a date and doesn’t have to be more than that. Besides, it is long past time you live in the moment, enjoy the opportunity that’s presented itself.

He’s reckless, carefree but the fact that he’s driving well over the speed limit doesn’t bother you as much as initially anticipated.

In this space, filled with him, his cologne and the way he’s looking at you from the corner of his eye, you know he won’t let anything happen to you.

It takes longer than expected to drive from the outskirts of Tokyo where the campus is located to the otherside that he’s brought you to.

He’s parked in a small parking lot that looks like it hasn’t been kept in years. The concrete is cracked and the parking space lines have long since faded, overgrown grass and brush surround the lot where the concrete ends.

“We won’t be able to stay too long,” Satoru says after opening your door and grabbing the back pack from the backseat.

You bite your lip and nod at his vagueness as he slings the backpack over his shoulder, lacing his fingers through yours to lead you to a staircase hidden between several overgrown bushes.

When you emerge from the other side, you’re absolutely stunned by the sight before your eyes - truly a surprise.

If someone had asked what you anticipated by going out with Gojo Satoru, this is not what you would have expected in the least.

It’s a small, secluded part of the beach that looks as if nobody has come to this portion in a long, long time.

A literal hidden gem of white, untouched sand, beautiful cerulean blue water along the horizon with small rolling waves playfully crashing into one another.

There are several large rocks the water is bouncing off separating this part of the beach from the rest, someone would have to circle around the boulders in order to make their way to this side, or know about the hidden stairs, making it a perfect secluded location.

While you busy yourself with removing your shoes and stripping from your dress, eager to dip your toes in the water, Satoru lays out a large towel over the sand, near two oddly pristine surfboards that are the only thing out of place.

Hesitantly, you dip your toe in the water only for it to feel heavenly, cool and refreshing before wading slightly further, to your knees.

The day is beautiful, it’s not too hot and the temperature of the water feels great with the late afternoon sun shining down.

It’s peaceful here, away from other people.

The type of place where you can sit for hours and lose yourself in thoughts while watching the horizon of deep blue sway and ripple each time the wind blows rustling the leaves of the nearby trees and bushes.

Satoru comes up from behind, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his chin on the top of your head. You knew he was tall, lanky, but it’s just made so much more clear just how much taller he is like this.

“Thanks for bringing me here, I love it,” you murmur, letting out a relaxed sigh while wrapping your hands around his wrist, leaning into his touch.

“This isn’t the date,” he chuckles gently, “well, not all of it at least.”

Satoru inhales deeply, his chest rising and falling against your back before releasing his arms from your shoulders. You jolt when you feel a cold, wet liquid touch your back only to quickly realize he’s putting sunblock on you.

With each pass of his nimble fingers over the bare skin of your shoulders, chest and stomach your body thrums with electricity and you’re thankful you’re facing away from him, so he can’t see how hard you’re squeezing your thighs together, trying to quell the heat quickly developing in your core.

Satoru asks you to put some on him and you’re quick to take him up on the offer, letting your hands slide over his back and shoulders, feeling each dip and curve of his sinewy muscles with soft, teasing touches.

You follow suit, teasing him the same way he did you by pressing your soft breasts to his harder back, hands running up and down his abdominals, feeling the way they constrict when you dip a finger in the waistband of his trunks, making you giggle.

He laughs quietly while walking away for a moment, coming back with the two surfboards that were in the sand earlier, flashing his smile and you notice he took off his little sunglasses in the process, fractals of light gleaming in his eyes, “we’re gonna surf for a bit.”

“Uhm, I don’t know how to do that,” he ignores you, patting the surfboard for you to get on and you look away to the beach, chuckling nervously, “shouldn’t I try this on land or something first… saw that in a movie once.”

“I’m going to teach you.”

“And aren’t there cuffs that go around your leg, shouldn’t I put that on?”

He laughs, walks over to you in the water and puts his hands on either side of the board, leaning in far too close. You don’t move away, lips parting even though you didn’t mean them to with his proximity.

“You’ll be fine. I’ve got you.”

Satoru takes his time, explaining how to pop up on the board when a wave comes, demonstrating only once before leaving you to your own devices.

Luckily, the waves are small, and you’re far enough away from any dangerous rocks and in shallow enough water that you’re not worried about anything happening with him around.

He’s a good teacher, albeit a bit untraditional in his ways. And he looks great in the water, white hair and blue eyes shining in the golden hour rays.

Each time you fall off the board and into the ocean, he’s quick to bring you back to the surface, holding onto your waist to help you back onto the board, holding your hand through several smaller waves so you can get the hang of the balance required in the rickety waters.

Satoru is touchy. Really touchy, but you don’t mind the way he squeezes your hips a little tighter before he lets go, threads his fingers between yours occasionally.

After what seems like an eternity, you finally make it through a small wave on your own, Satoru having let go of your hand just before the wave hit, leaving you to your own devices.

“Oh my god, I did it!” You’re excited, laughing at your own small accomplishment, taking him by surprise by jumping into his arms and knocking the two of you back into the water.

You’re both laughing, loudly, when you re-emerge from the water and he sets you down on the board, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips, a large hand coming to rest at the base of your neck, thumb caressing your jaw.

Your hands are on his broad chest and shoulders, feeling his lithe muscles while the air between the two of you becomes incredibly thick.

His other hand trails up and down the length of your spine slowly, leaving goosebumps in his wake and a fire between your legs that hasn’t ceased since the moment you saw him.

“Are you gonna kiss me?” You ask hesitantly as the wind blows causing the water below to rustle and splash over your legs.

“Maybe if you say please,” he whispers, lips ghosting yours as he threads his hand through your hair at the scalp angling your face so he can place a teasing kiss just below your ear causing you to gasp.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him closer, you please, “Satoru, please.”

He groans audibly as soon as your lips connect in a ravenous kiss, one he’s been holding back since the moment he saw you walk out of the dorm to his car.

You said to make this day worthwhile, to show his interest and he’s doing just that with the way his tongue is melding with yours.

Satoru tastes sweet and like spearmint all at the same time, mixed with the saltiness of the ocean, but you don’t mind as long as he keeps pulling you in closer and closer to him. You’re more in his arms than on the surfboard at this point, feeling his hardened length press into your center.

You sigh into him, holding his face a little too lovingly while playfully tugging on each other's lips before he pulls away, eyes dark and filled with lust.

“Come on,” his voice is thick with lust before clearing it, “we’re gonna be late for the next part.”

Satoru picks you up out of the water causing you to yelp and then giggle as you throw your arm over his shoulder while he carries you back onto the beach. Once he sets you down, he grabs towels for the two of you and sits down, legs spread with the towel over his shoulders to dry off.

You watch for a moment, biting your lip, debating on what you want.

Today is today and tomorrow is another day. It doesn’t have to be more than this, so you nudge his knees out a little wider with your foot, sitting between his legs.

You feel the chuckle through his chest as you scoot back into him and he easily slips his hands around your waist, putting his head on your shoulder.

You’re content like this, letting out a heavy sigh before muttering, “fuck, this is gorgeous,” at the serene ocean, soft waves skimming the top of the water.

“Yes, it is,” but he’s looking at you.

He massages your sides lightly while you lean your head back on his shoulder, relaxed, content. The lower he goes, on your hips and thighs, the closer you shift closer to him gasping lightly when his hands move to your inner thighs, opening them so easily for him.

Satoru teases for a while, running his hands up and down the length of your inner thigh slowly, chuckling each time you squirm under his touch.

There’s a fire burning in the pit of your stomach, one that’s been building from the moment you saw him and you desperately need him to extinguish it, but anytime he gets close to where you need him most, he’s moving his hands back down and away.

After seemingly a lifetime, he moves your swimsuit bottoms to the side groaning into your temple when he slides a finger through your folds, feeling just how wet you are.

Satoru wastes no time in encircling your clit until your legs are trembling, chest heaving up and down on the brink of ecstasy, moaning so soft and pretty right into his ear.

And then he just stops.

A loud whine leaves your lips as you move your hips, begging for more stimulation to find your release as you knit your brows together and look at him as if he’s just betrayed you.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he murmurs, helping adjust your hips so he can slip a finger past your entrance.

Satoru easily finds your g-spot, as if he remembers exactly where it is, despite drunkenly fumbling around the last time the two of you were together.

“Are you always this wet?” He whispers, hot breath tickling your earlobe before nipping it gently a few times.

“Just -ah- sensitive,” you say as he effortlessly slips another finger in due to the unreal wetness at the apex of your thighs.

Satoru adjusts so the palm of his hand is against your clit, letting your rut your hips against it for more stimulation.

“You like this? Out in the open, where anyone can walk in on us?” You gasp at his words, clenching around his fingers, even if you didn’t mean to, “fuck you do. Oh, you’re filthy.”

His cock is rock hard, pressed against your back feeling each time it twitches when you moan into his ear.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” He asks when he feels you’re on the brink of release, muscles clenching and twitching each time his thick fingers pass the spot that makes you see stars.

“Mm, fuck yeeees.”

Satoru snakes the hand that’s been around your waist up to your neck, squeezing at the base just enough to apply pressure and heighten your senses.

That’s all it takes for your release to crash through you like a tidal wave, eyes rolling to the back of your head and gushing obscenely as you buck your hips up to meet each thrust of his hand.

You’re kissing him, lazily and sloppily as you come down from your high, sucking a few small starbursts onto his jaw and throat while he deftly pulls your breasts out of your top, pinching your nipples harder than anticipated causing you to whimper at the feeling, igniting you all over again.

Satoru is skilled with hands, his large thick fingers, making you cum over and over again, cooing you through each release, kissing your temple sweetly each time he brings you to the edge of release.

A soft breeze rolls through while you’re trying to take several deep breaths, tits rising and falling in the golden rays of the sun. He turns your head so you’re looking at him, eyes half lidded with lust, pupils dilated more than you’d ever seen them.

Satoru takes a deep breath, thumb stroking the smooth column of your throat, giving a salacious grin, all teeth, so beautiful before spitting in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he mumbles as you moan and swallow without having to be told before sticking his slick covered fingers in your mouth.

You choke and gag a little while rolling your tongue over his long, thick digits as best you can. He holds you a little tighter, humming with satisfaction before removing them from your mouth a pop, sticking them into his own.

“Taste so good,” your skin flushes with embarrassment at his obscene remarks as you sit up to straddle his legs, lazily grinding your hips into his, hissing at the overstimulation but not wanting your time together to end.

The wind is calming, cooling on your sweaty skin as he watches you release his hard cock from the confines of his swim trunks.

And he’s so much bigger than you thought, unable to really get a visual the last time the two of you were together in his darkened room.

His cock is long, hard but not overly thick and already leaking precum from the slit. Of course the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on would have the prettiest dick. The angry red tip easily matches the blush across his cheeks, down to the top of his shoulders.

The two of you sit like this for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the ocean and seagulls flying by overhead.

You can also faintly make out the sound of cars passing by but you’re too focused on the way Satoru kisses down your neck and shoulders to care.

You yelp and then giggle when Satoru swiftly moves you to your elbows in front of him, hands smoothly trailing along your shoulders and sides, squeezing and smacking your ass before tugging down your swimsuit bottoms to reveal your glistening pussy.

“You’re dripping,” he murmurs while quickly rifling through his bag, slipping on a condom in record time.

Satoru has one hand on your hip helping keep you in place as he glides his cock up and down your slippery folds a few times before becoming too impatient, pushing the tip of his cock past your entrance.

“Oh my god,” your back is arching, mouth agape as he fully seats himself inside, “Saotru, you’re so big.”

He groans at your admission, placing his large palm between your shoulders and pushing you down so your ass is up higher, pushing your legs out further with his knees.

In this position, he’s able to get deeper than before, keeping his hips flush with your ass before pulling all the way out and slamming back in before he’s even given you time to adjust to him, in rough, fast, snaps of his hips.

“I wanna hear you, baby,” Satoru says between breaths as you bite back the loud moans threatening to escape your lips as he fucks into you with reckless abandon.

Satoru quickly grabs one of your arms pulling it back so you’re holding onto his waist, grip tight on your bicep as he uses his others to grab firmly into the roots of your hair, forcing your head up to look at the beautiful ocean view.

“You’re so good… doing so good for me.”

There’s a growing feeling at the pit of your stomach, constant shockwaves of electricity causing pools of warmth between your thighs as you move your hips in time with Satoru’s, meeting his every thrust.

They way you squeeze him, like you’re so desperate for him to make you cum on his cock has his toes curling and he knows he’s not going to be able to last much longer.

Not like this; out in the open, anyone able to come by and catch the two of you, making it that much more exciting. Or with the way you’re calling out his name, body gyrating as he continues to vigorously pound into you.

Satoru’s abs ripple in time with his breaths, clenching with each thrust, until he knows he’s no longer able to hold back, body quickly eclipsing yours as he leans over you, sucking several marks onto your shoulders while encircling your clit.

It’s the last straw for you, a tsunami of pleasure coursing through your veins as your soft walls spasms around him just as tight as he remembers.

“Oh fuck- I’m gonna-” he moans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, thrusting raggedly until his release floods the condom, finding himself wishing there was no barrier between the two of you.

Satoru moves his hips slowly, kissing around your shoulders and back as the two of you are brought back to reality and he pulls out slowly with a wince, leaning back on the balls of his feet, helping you lean back into him.

His body is solid behind you, chests heaving, breaths falling unevenly. He helps adjust your bathing suit, getting your top and bottoms back in place before readjusting himself.

While Satoru busies himself with stuffing the towels and other items into his backpack, you decide to make your way back into the water. Your skin is still hot, sweaty and flushed so stepping into the cool water feels incredibly refreshing against your skin.

It doesn’t take long for Satoru to join, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, “we’re definitely going to be late for dinner.”

“Mm.” You hum before turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck, “why don’t we just eat somewhere around here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’d like to try some local places anyway since we’re already over here.” Satoru looks between your eyes as you give him a small smile, running your nails through his undercut before he snakes a hand into your hair before pressing his lips to yours, tugging playfully on your lower lip.

“Ta-da!” You exclaim excitedly.

“What is that supposed to be?” Satoru questions, laughing when you reveal the drawing you finished on a napkin.

The two of you eventually made your way out of the water and walked a few blocks until you found a small hole in the wall ramen shop. It’s quaint and cozy, with dim lighting, hardly anyone around other than the two of you and the staff.

Conversation comes easily to the both of you, laughing and keeping it light. Satoru’s still touchy, even in public, keeping a hand on your thigh or around your shoulders as you wait for your food to arrive.

“Obviously it’s a panda, the school mascot!”

Satoru chuckles before kissing your temple, “that’s a gorilla.”

“Clearly it’s a panda because of the black and white spots,” you pout.

“Not a panda, babe.”

“Fine,” you’re exasperated, narrowing your eyes at Satoru before handing him a clean napkin and the pen, “you draw something.”

Satoru snickers to himself as he removes his hand from your shoulder to cover the napkin.

“Really?” You look at him trying to fight a smile when he reveals his drawing, “a small child could draw that.”

“Okay, but it’s intricate. See all the swoops,” he teases as he shows you his infinity symbol.

The two of you smile and laugh through dinner, trying each other's food and joking, keeping everything light with soft kisses mixed in between.

Honestly, the day has been better than you could have anticipated and more fun than expected, but reality begins to set in after you make your way back from the restroom to find Satoru on his phone, replying to his likely many missed messages while out with you.

It’s like a punch in the gut thinking he planned something special for you and then a few hours later he’s back on his phone most likely making plans to do this same exact thing with someone else.

You take your seat next to him but avoid looking at his phone, not wanting to accidentally confirm your suspicions about what he’s doing. It would suck, even though you know he’s well within his right.

It’s just a date. Nothing more, nothing less. It doesn’t have to mean anything even if it sucks and it hurts more than it should.

Satoru senses the shift in your mood, watching the way you avoid looking over at him, shoulders slumped slightly but waiting patiently.

He sighs, before putting his phone back in his pocket, grabbing your chin, turning your attention back to him before kissing you sweetly once.

You let out a small chuckle, the corner of your lips tugging up, “come on. It’s getting late, we should head back.”

You relax a little on the car ride back easing into Satoru’s touch when he laces his fingers with yours, watching the way he seamlessly shifts gears, studying his side profile. High cheekbones and perfectly slanted nose, porcelain skin that seems to shine just as bright in the night sky as the daylight.

Beautiful. Too beautiful and he knows it.

“So… uh,” you’re scratching your eyebrow, unsure of how to really have this conversation - thoughts that have been heavy in the back of your mind that you tried to ignore until sitting in Satoru’s car on the way back, “I had a great time, thank you. For planning this today.”

He turns to face you, a wide smile spread across his face before tenderly grabbing your jaw and placing his soft lips against yours, “yeah, I did too.”

“Fuck, this is awkward,” you say quietly, chuckling nervously and his smile faulters a little, “so where does this leave us?”

Satoru searches your face for a moment, looking between your eyes before replying, “well… I’d like to keep seeing you.”

“Along with other people?”

“I mean, yeah.” He answers honestly before sighing, “Iook, you’re new here and I don’t want to take that experience away from you. I’m sure you want to go out, meet other people. We can just hook up, see each other casually until you find someone you wanna date.”

You look away from his gaze. Your heart hurts in a way that it shouldn’t from someone you barely know, someone you’ve only been on one date with.

On top of that, there’s a feeling of stupidity for letting him make you feel special about the day he had planned, about letting him bury his cock ten inches deep in you once again, even though you knew it was going to end this way.

Even if you didn’t care to admit it at the time, it doesn’t stop the sting of rejection you’re feeling now.

Sure, neither of you owe each other anything, and he is right, there’s no tangible reason why you can’t see each other casually. It’s just not something you’re into, not your style.

Especially after having been cheated on.

You nod and purse your lips looking away from his gaze, it’s far more intense than what you can handle right now during this conversation. He watches you, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“Is that the answer you give everyone who’s interested in dating?”

He furrows his brows, “what do you mean?”

“Why not just say you don’t want commitment rather than stringing people along?”

“I’m not-”

“Okay,” you interrupt before taking a deep breath, you’re annoyed and worked up, more than you really should be, “look, I’m not interested in having to schedule around other women to spend time with someone I like.”

“I really like hanging out with you,” Satoru says but you can tell he’s aware this conversation isn’t going how he thought, how he knows he’s not going to get more than what it’s been.

“I liked hanging out with you too, but… that’s not what I want. This isn’t something I think we’re going to see eye to eye on.”

Satoru rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue before sitting back in his seat, face stern as he stares out the windshield, “yeah, guess not.”

You don’t say anything as you get out of the car and walk to the steps of the dorm, watching him drive off once you’re safely by the front door, but you do hope you can still be friends.

@petalsrdead @sugurunicorn @niki-sun @lilith412426 @sofiaconlaz @lxvephxbic @kash2 @violetsapplejuice @iam-mia9 @laylasbunbunny @creolequeen11210 @xiaosie @lem-hhn @s-witch-bitch @yogurttea @slut-jr @watyousayin @desthedemon @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes

#jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #violetsaffronfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #BD

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asirensrage · 28 days

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Saudade - Chapter 5

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: This chapter is much longer than the others. It originally was two chapters, but one was much shorter. I considered making the larger one smaller but it didn't feel right. So, at the suggestion of a friend, I merged them. I was at a con today and found barely any Tokyo Revengers merch so I have to update to add my part to the fandom. If only to make myself feel better knowing that people are still here lol.

I hope you enjoy it. Your comments mean the world to me. Thank you all.

also on ao3

fic masterlist - prev chapter

THE PAST

It’s been a week since the future Takemichi left and she misses him. Not just because he was someone to talk to, but the current Takemichi isn’t on the same level. He’s more immature and honestly? She’s beginning to wonder what Hinata even sees in him. If he wasn’t her brother, she wouldn’t be near him.

Luckily, he seems far more involved with his own friends than her and Takara is left to her own devices. Unfortunately, she only has some acquaintances and no sports for her to distract herself with. She spends her time doing homework and regretting the way she’s stuck here.

She doesn’t wake up back home when Takemichi returns to the future. She’s just left with a weird sense of longing and the realization that she can’t really picture what her old bedroom looked like. She spent all her free time there. She should know, shouldn’t she? It sits like lead in her stomach.

She slips unseen through the house that has claimed her. Her parents, these parents, don’t entirely seem to care that she exists. They’ll greet her and speak to her, but sometimes she sees the ways their eyes slip off of her, like oil against water. Sometimes they are startled by her presence, as though they’ve forgotten she’s there. Whoever’s placed her in this world has done a shit job. Old resentment festers but she’s learned long ago to cleanse the wound. She leaves her house and spends her time on her rollerblades, feeling more at home when she’s speeding down the path with her own skill than she does anywhere else.

🏍️

Takara is sixteen.

She’s in a body that she did not grow up in, with a family she doesn’t belong to, and acutely aware that she’s alone. She wishes Takemichi did not have to return to a future that feels impossible to see. She wishes she had something to fill her time with like before so that she doesn’t actually notice how she feels.

On the one hand, she should be glad that she has the time to explore the areas where they live, on the other, she’s bored out of her mind. She hates being bored.

It’s with a little research that she manages to track down a sports shop. Baseball is huge here, so she grabs the basic equipment for that, and she manages to find a hockey stick so that she can at least keep up with her slapshots. The store owner also pointed her in the direction of a rink that had skate rentals. A small thing but it already feels like a relief, like she hasn’t lost everything.

She gets about a block with the large equipment bag thrown over her shoulder when a shadow falls over her as someone steps up next to her. She glances over before scowling.

“What the fuck do you want?”

It’s the giant from the other day. The one who said he wasn’t with the boys who hunted her down before claiming them as she made her escape.

He grins at her and takes a drag of his cigarette. “Looked like you needed help. Thought I’d offer my services.”

“With what? Reaching a top shelf that I don’t need anything from? Or hitting your head on the doorway on your way out?”

“Your bag,” he says, not at all put out by her attitude. “Looks bigger than you.”

“I’ve had bigger.”

His eyes seem to shine at that and she adjusts the grip on the hockey stick, ready to drop the bag and hit him if she needs to. “Let me carry it for you. You can buy me lunch to pay me back.”

She stops and stares at him. “What kind of shit deal is that?”

“One where we both win.”

“Sounds like I lose regardless.” An idea pops into her head and while it might bite her in the ass, it’ll at least entertain her for a bit. “How about this? We have a shoot-out. Whoever scores the most goals in five minutes wins.”

He steps closer. “Yeah? What do I get if I win?”

She tries not to roll her eyes. “You win and I’ll buy you that lunch.”

“And if you win?”

“You stop stalking me and leave me the fuck alone.”

He takes another drag of his cigarette. “If I win, I want a kiss.”

She can’t stop herself from scrunching up her face at the idea. “A kiss?” She’s never kissed anyone before. She’s always been too busy.

He laughs. “Yeah, princess. A kiss.”

She’s not sure if it’s confidence or simply the desire to wipe the expression off of his face. “Don’t call me that. And fine. You’re on.”

Hanma is a terrible loser. It’s kind of hilarious to see how frustrated he gets when he misses a shot, as though he can’t imagine being bad at something, but he makes up for it with how he praises every single one of her goals. She’d almost think he wants her to win. It sits sickly sweet in her mouth, making her nauseous.

When she wins, because of course she does, she’s played hockey since she could balance on skates, she leans on her stick, and stares at him, feeling justifiably smug. “I win. That means you fuck off and leave me alone.”

“Oh it does, does it?”

Her eyes narrow, the tone reminding her of the way her brothers used to trick her. “That was the bet.”

“You’re right,” he agrees. He darts forward, lips pressing against hers. She reels back and does the one thing her brothers drilled into her. She punches him. When he pulls back laughing, she adjusts her grip and swings, slamming the hockey stick up between his legs. He chokes on his laughter and she pulls back the stick. He doesn’t quite fall to his knees, but he does bend over, trying to breathe through the pain. She uses the angle and changes her grip on the hockey stick until she’s swinging it like a bat into his head. This time he falls.

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” she snaps.

His mouth is bloody as he laughs again and she ignores him, picking up her bag and leaving.

🏍️

“Hanagaki!”

Takara turns automatically at the call of her name before it stuns her. There was no hesitation in acknowledging the name.

“Hey! Hanagaki, you okay?”

She blinks, looking up at Draken as he waves his hand in front of her face. “Yeah! Sorry,” she shakes off the feeling that she’s forgetting something and smiles. He’s standing there with his hands in his pocket but he’s not alone. She recognizes Mikey, Mitsuya and Baji standing with him. There are a couple others with them but she’s not sure who they are. She looks back at Draken. “What’s up?”

“Where are you off to?”

“And what are you wearing?” Baji asks, gaze dropping down.

She scowls automatically, aware of the insult. “Clothes. Why? Want some shopping tips?”

“Not from you,” he scoffs. “I was almost blinded looking at you.”

“You’re welcome to close your eyes,” she sneers before realizing that some of the others are staring at her in surprise. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I’ve had a shit week.”

“You okay?” Mitsuya asks.

“Yeah, just had to teach some asshole the meaning of consent.” Their gazes sharpen and she even sees Mikey straighten.

“Consent?” Draken asks. “Who? What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

Her chin juts out. “I’m fine. Like I said, I taught him the meaning of consent.” The tension eases at their obvious concern and she’s reminded oddly of facing not only her brothers but her friends as well. Her attitude fades and she shifts in place. “What are you all up to?”

“Ken-chin was released today,” Mikey says. He smiles as he continues. “We’re going to celebrate. Come with us.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Come on,” Draken says. “Mikey says to come, you’re coming. Besides, not like I don’t have to thank you for helping us.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know,” his eyes close as he grins. “Doesn’t mean I can’t thank you.”

“What’s it going to hurt?” Baji adds, throwing an arm over her shoulder. She shoves him off just as fast.

“Fine.”

🏍️

She’s squished into a booth between Draken and Mitsuya. Draken has an arm over the back of the booth bench behind her and both of their thighs are pressed against hers. It’s not entirely uncomfortable but Takara is used to being squished between her brothers, especially on road trips. She lost any sense of personal space years ago.

The boys are rambunctious enough to make the wait staff wary of approaching, at least until Draken tells them to knock it off. The two on each side of her seem to be the more controlled or calming influences of the group, which doesn’t say much for the other side made up of Baji, Mikey and Chifuyu. She was properly introduced to him and Hakkai, who was seated next to Mitsuya but dead silent any time she said something, once she agreed to join them.

“What do you want?”

Takara muses over the menu but nothing seems appealing or familiar. “It doesn’t matter. Get me whatever. Maybe something with meat.” She can use the protein.

As soon as they order her curry, she regrets it.

Takara has never really been a fan of curry or spicy food in general. She blames her ancestors…and the fact that her parents weren’t that big on expanding their culinary horizons when she was a kid. She never put much thought into it if she’s honest, aside from the way her teammates would laugh when they watch her attempt spicy food. Now she’s not looking forward to getting this dish…and having to force herself to eat some of it. She did tell them to get her anything. She wasn’t really thinking about the possibilities.

“So tell us about yourself.”

“Hmm?” She looks up, drawn out of her thoughts, as she realizes that Draken, Mitsuya and Mikey are staring at her. “What do you want to know?”

“Where’d you learn to skate?”

“Where does anyone?” She asks, reaching over to take a sip of her drink. “The rink.”

“Where do you go to school?”

She answers without thinking and is surprised to see them all staring at her in shock. Even the others on the edge. “What?”

“You’re in high school?”

She frowns, confused at the reaction. “Aren’t you?”

It turns out, they’re not. Most of them are in their last year of middle school and while some are starting to stress about the entrance exams, others aren’t. It doesn’t really make sense to her because while she’s sixteen, she’s born in the same year that Mikey, Draken and Mitsuya are. She just had the advantage, or disadvantage depending on who you asked, to be born in January when the school term starts in April.

“You’re so small,” Draken says. “I can’t believe you’re older than us.”

“I will kick your ass,” she points at him. “Don’t fucking test me.”

“Can you reach?” he teases. Her eyes narrow but she’s drawn away from responding by the arrival of the food. She looks at the dishes, wondering which one is hers and mentally trying to figure out how she’s going to get out of this.

Until it’s placed in front of her.

It smells delicious. If anyone notices her hesitance, they don’t comment on it. Instead they talk over her and Takara is left to try it on her own.

This isn’t curry. It can’t be because Takara has tried curry before and not enjoyed it. This? This is fantastic.

“Hey…hey, Takara, you alright?” She looks up at the sound of her name. Mikey is staring at her, confused. “You’re crying.”

She reaches up, touching her cheek. He’s right. She’s crying and the moment she realizes, she starts crying harder. She vaguely hears the boys around her start to panic, but she ignores it. Something is wrong. It’s wrong because she’s not herself and she shouldn’t like this and nothing is right.

Someone’s arm wraps around her shoulders and she finds herself being pulled into a chest. A hand rubs her back and she hears him whisper “Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” It’s strangely comforting, as though they’ve done it a million times. In the back of her mind, she hears Draken telling everyone to be quiet.

When she finally feels like she can breathe, when the tears stop falling and she calms down, she pulls away.

Mitsuya smiles softly and lets her go. “You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m used to girls crying on me. I have two little sisters. They come to me for every scrape.”

She snorts at the imagery of the big bad biker being bombarded by little girls crying. “Still, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What was wrong?”

“Was the food that bad?” Mikey asked, looking completely serious. It’s enough to make her laugh. The tension eases at the sound of it and while the others still keep looking at her,

“No, I just…” She goes to slip into the well-worn excuse she knows will make them stop asking, but Draken seems to catch on before she even can.

“You don’t have to say,” he tells her. “None of our business.” She’s not sure if he’s being polite and giving her an out, or he just doesn’t want to hear it. Either way, it saves her an excuse.

“Hey Takara! Let me tell you about the time…” One of the boys calls out, telling a story about their friend and the last mess they got in. The boys start teasing him and he tries to explain what really happened. It’s enough to distract her from nearly throwing up when she tries to eat again. The fact that it tastes good sits uneasily in her stomach. She pushes it away, deciding not to force herself and one of the boys takes it to test and ends up eating the rest of it.

By the time they all leave, her crying is unmentioned and the cause of it slips through her fingers. She doesn’t recall what exactly was wrong.

🏍️

Something breaks. She’s not sure if it was the dinner or Draken getting out of the hospital or the knowledge of her fighting to teach someone consent, but she suddenly finds herself constantly in someone’s company. It’s exhausting and some days she refuses to leave her house, just to ensure they can’t bother her. Not that it’s ever stopped Mikey or Draken from just walking in.

She’s buried in blankets and half asleep when Takemichi comes barrelling into her room.

“Takara!”

She lifts the blankets down just enough to see him before he runs towards her and hugs her tightly. “Get off! What the fuck Takemichi?”

“Sorry! Sorry!” He pulls back but stays seated on the edge of her bed. “I just got back. Well, not right now, maybe an hour or two ago? I was in the public baths with Mikey and Draken and then there was this meeting. It’s just…so good to see you.”

That gets her attention. She sits up and faces him. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you told me to pass on a message!”

“What?” That…sounded like something she’d do if she knew she could communicate with her past self. Watch out on her left in that last game, don’t eat the shellfish at the going away party… “What did I say?”

“You told me to tell you everything.” And he does.

It’s enough to drive her out of bed and put on her skates. She thinks best when she’s moving.

Takara skates down the dark and empty streets, her mind running over the new things she’s learned. Takemichi tells her everything about the future including Draken being in jail because of Kisaki and Toman still being led by Mikey and Kisaki. He told her about Hinata dying in the manner she did and his promise to take over Toman to make sure it changes. The only thing he hesitated on was her future. He told her she’s alive and still involved in the gang even when he wasn’t. She told him she swore to keep him alive so he can keep his promise.

He didn’t tell her everything. She knows because her brother is a terrible liar. He always has been. At least, she’s always known when her brothers were lying to her. They couldn’t–

She forces her thoughts back on track. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was the point her future self made. Why was Kisaki so focused on Hinata and Takemichi? Far as either of them knew, neither of them even knew Kisaki. At least…Takemichi didn’t. Until now.

There’s only one thing to do. She needs to talk to Hinata.

🏍️

It’s only when she’s outside the girl’s apartment building that she realizes how late it is. It’s not like she can throw rocks at her window to get her attention. She stands there, staring at the building before it occurs how creepy she looks and she goes to sit down on a ledge so she can figure out what to do.

She calls Takemichi, but her brother must be knocked out because he’s not answering. Muttering how useless he is under her breath, she searches her contacts for another answer. She doesn’t have Hina or even Emma, but she does have a bunch of the boys who have been following her around. Baji and Mitsuya are out. Neither of them are likely to have Hina’s number. The only one she can think of might be Emma and the only way she’s going to get her number is through her brother.

Takara is already tired, but if she’s going to help Takemichi, she needs the info. She’s going to have to call Mikey and deal with the fact that she’s been avoiding them. She half hopes he’s asleep so she doesn’t have to listen to him whine, or that Emma’s right next to him. Still, she presses his contact and waits.

“Yeah?”

“Mikey, it’s Takara.”

“Who? Do we have a friend named Takara?” she hears him ask someone on his side. “Think we remember one…”

“Okay okay,” she calls out. “I’m sorry!”

“Hmm..”

“Oh my god,” she mutters to herself. “Will it help if I promise not to avoid you guys anymore?”

“Takara! I remember now!”

“Of course you do. Look, can I have Emma’s number?”

“Emma? What do you want with Emma?”

“I’m outside Hina’s place because I wanted to talk to her, but it’s late so I can’t go to the door and don’t have her number.”

There’s a moment of silence before he finally responds. “Takara, do you know what time it is?”

“I’m aware, Mikey. Can I have her number? Please?”

“Stay there.” He hangs up on her.

“What the fuck,” she stares at the phone for a moment. Not only does she get pounced on by a time-travelling brother, but she’s pulled out of her bed because she can’t think sitting still and now she’s getting hung up on. Mentally cursing everyone who’s ever been a problem for her, including whatever higher powers dropped her into this role, Takara sits and waits.

She considers practising learning to grind on the edge of the ledge, but considering it’s dark and she’s more than likely going to wipe out, she refrains. She doesn’t want to wake anyone up at this hour. So she sits, fiddling with her laces and using the time to double-check the wheels on her blades.

Not even ten minutes pass when she hears the sound of a motorcycle. Takara looks up at the noise and sighs. Mikey parks the motorcycle before striding towards her. Somehow, he manages to look confident and bored all at once, as though she’s dragged him from his bed to come rescue her.

She skates over to him, meeting him halfway. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be here alone, Takara.”

There’s something about the way he says it. He doesn’t sound like the irritated, teasing boy she knows. He sounds like Takemichi describes him when he talks about their gang meetings.

“You didn’t have to come, Mikey. I just needed a number.” It was unusual to see him alone. She half expected Draken to appear, irritated at Mikey leaving him behind. No one comes though.

“You can have it, but I can’t let Takemitchy’s sister be out here alone. Where is your brother?”

“Asleep?” Takara shrugs. “He’s not answering his phone.”

“Come. Ride with me.”

“I’m busy,” Takara says, looking at him dryly. “Are you going to give me Emma’s number or not?”

“You’re not contacting Hina now. She’s asleep. Emma’s asleep. Get on my bike. I’ll give you the number and you can deal with this tomorrow. When they’re awake.”

She skates side to side, considering his words. “Give me the number and I’ll go home.”

He stares at her for a long minute. “After.” There’s something in his eyes that warns her not to argue. It’s a rare look on him, at least that she’s seen so far.

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m wearing my blades. It’s not easy to ride with them on.”

He shrugs, “Take them off.”

“And only wear socks on your bike?” She rolls her eyes when he just stares at her. “Fuck, fine.” He grabs her wrist and pulls her back towards his motorcycle. She lets him drag her, moving her feet only when necessary to fix her footing to make sure she doesn’t trip. She sits on his bike, leaning down and unlacing her rollerblades. She nearly topples both her and the bike over as she’s pulling one of them off. Mikey grabs the bike, keeping it steady.

Takara ties the laces together and tries not to wince as her feet quickly get cold. She hangs the rollerblades around the back of her neck, letting them rest just under her arms. It’s not going to be comfortable, but since Mikey has basically demanded she comply, he could deal with them digging into his back for all she cared.

Mikey drives like a maniac. She thought Baji was bad in his race to make sure his friend was okay, but there’s no reason for Mikey to be speeding the way he is and weaving between cars. She’s tempted to let go, to see if she can hold herself up with her legs and just feel the wind blow past her. She almost feels free like this, like she’s not pretending to be someone else. She can forget that she’s not meant to be here.

When he finally slows and pulls up by her house, she lets go. She sits there for a moment, trying to decide if the best choice is to just run for it in her bare socks or untie her blades and shove her feet back in. Mikey doesn’t move.

“You gonna give me Emma’s number or what?”

“Why do you have to talk to Hinata so bad?” He turns slightly to see her.

“Girl stuff,” she says. It’s not like she can tell him she’s trying to stop a future where her brother keeps almost getting killed.

He pulls out his phone and after a moment, she feels hers buzz in her pocket. “I texted it,” he says. “Don’t do this again, okay, Kara-chan?”

“Don’t call me that,” she glares at him before making her decision. “Thanks for the ride!” She awkwardly hops off the bike before running to her house, silently praying that her parents are fast asleep and none the wiser to her excursion.

She hears Mikey drive off once she’s actually in her house and Takara does her best to silently put down her blades and creep to her bedroom. She doesn’t know why Mikey came to drive her home, or why he was so insistent about it. Especially since she has been avoiding them since she cried in front of all of them. Thankfully, no one’s told Takemichi about it, or if they have, it was the old one…not hers. She falls back on her bed and pulls out her phone, adding Emma’s number to her contacts. Whatever. She’ll deal with it later. She has more important things to worry about.

🏍️

“Kisaki Tetta?” Hinata blinks in surprise, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, I know him.”

Takara perks up and tries to squash the excitement she feels in possibly getting this figured out. “Oh yeah?”

“We were in cram school together,” Hinata says. “Haven't seen him this year but he’s always been really smart. He was doing math equations that were far ahead of what we were taught.”

That…fits with the little Takara knows of the future and the way Takemichi has yet to avoid his own fate or Hina’s. He would have to be intelligent to be able to plan the things Takemichi heard from Draken and even herself in the future. It makes this more dangerous. Takara isn’t intelligent in the same way, but she knows how to create a strategy based on the way people play, she knows how to use what she has to gain the advantage. It’s not the same as planning a play in hockey, but she’ll figure it out. She has to.

“He doesn’t attend cram school anymore?” she asks, fidgeting with the straw of her cup.

“No,” Hinata answers. “Why do you ask? Did you meet him?”

“Not that I know of,” Takara answers honestly. “Takemichi told me he joined Toman, that he’s a new captain.”

“So why did you ask me about him?”

Takara shrugs, leaning into the nonchalance she used to use on her brothers whenever she wanted something. “I figured I’d ask everyone I know. Someone was bound to know something. Besides, I want to know who my brother is around. Toman is alright, but you never know what might slip through the cracks.”

“Where is Takemichi?” Hinata asks, sounding sweet. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

Takemichi is on some sort of quest to drag Baji back to Toman. That also doesn’t make sense to Takara because she’s been around Baji and the others. They got along like a well-oiled machine, like a team that has spent days practicing together. His leaving with no explanation except that he doesn’t want to be involved anymore doesn’t make sense. It makes her regret avoiding them because clearly, she missed something important.

“Who knows,” she says. “Probably doing something stupid with his friends.”

Hinata giggles at that. “We’ve never really talked before,” she said. “I was a little nervous when you texted me.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re a little scary.”

Takara stares at the younger girl. “What? Really?”

Hinata smiles. “You’re really cool, especially with your skating, but you always seemed…alone. I’m glad I’m getting to know you.”

Well, that sounds depressing. Takara isn’t sure how to take that, she’s never really been alone her entire life. She’s always been busy with her teams or her family. Now though all she really has is Takemichi and when he’s not his future self, he’s gone most of the time.

“Me too,” she finally says, smiling back. “So…you and Kisaki are just friends?”

Hinata looks a little surprised by the way Takara brings the conversation right back to where they started. “Yeah, we were just friends. I admired him though, he was so smart. He always seemed so shy.”

Between what she knows about him from her brother, and the way Hinata remembers him, triggers something in her memory. Takara thinks back to her brothers and the way one of their friends hung around. He was a strange one and lingered around her the way she knew he shouldn’t. She had only told her brother when he said something he shouldn’t have. Her brothers came home with bloodied fists and she never saw him again. “Do you think he ever had a crush on you?”

“What?” Hinata laughs. “No! We were friends!”

“Okay,” Takara says, forcing herself to laugh. She doesn’t believe it. No one murders someone repeatedly if they are just friends. At least not on his side. For a moment it occurs to her just how strange the situation is. What is her life coming to?

“Takara?”

She blinks back in focus, smiling at Hinata. “Sorry. It was a long night.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me, Hinata. I’ll be fine.”

🏍️

It’s by complete accident that she runs into Baji.

She’s skating down the street, ignoring the glares some people send her way when she nearly crashes him as he exits a store.

“Woah!” He catches her before she falls when she tries to dodge out of the way to keep herself from injuring him. He lets go as soon as she’s standing. “Takara?”

“Oh, hey Baji,” She glances around but there’s no one else around. “How’s it going?” She shifts her feet back and forth, keeping herself standing.

He frowns slightly but it looks a little forced. “What are you doing?”

“What?”

“I’m not part of Toman anymore. Why are you talking to me?”

“Why are you talking to me?” she snaps back automatically. “I’m not part of Toman, what the fuck do I care if you are or not.”

“Really?” he grins. “Because your brother has been demanding I return.”

“I don’t control him,” she says with a shrug.

“So you’re not going to try to convince me to go back?” he looks like he doesn’t believe her.

“No offence, but I have better things to do with my time.” That’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. “You must have your reasons for changing teams. People usually do.”

He looks like he doesn’t quite believe her. “You don’t care?”

“Should I?”

“That’s her, Officer!”

Takara looks to the side, seeing an older woman pointing towards her. The police officer standing next to her is staring towards Takara. “Shit.” She’s been told that skating in public places is a disturbance but she’s ignored it. She can’t get in trouble if they can’t catch her.

Baji grins at her, sharp and wide. His concern seems forgotten as he grabs her hand and pulls her as he takes off. She hears someone yell for them to stop but she lets him drag her. He knows the area better than she does, even with all her wandering.

By the time they stop, they’re both laughing hysterically. They managed to ditch the cop but didn’t pause until the trail of people yelling after them faded and they were left alone in an alleyway off of a park.

Once they stopped, Baji was leaning against a wall and Takara moved back and forth in place.

“Thanks,” she says once they catch their breath.

“Nah,” he tilts his head back and rests it against the stone. “Thank you. Been a while since I laughed like that.”

“That’s sad.” She says it without thinking.

“Ha!” he nods. “Yeah, it is.” He falls silent and Takara is content to wait. She’s not about to dive back into public this soon after being chased by the police. They’re likely still looking for her. “I don’t regret my choice.”

“Huh? What choice?”

“To leave Toman.” He looks over at her. “It’s for the best.”

“Okay?” Takara shrugs. She’s not here to judge him or demand he return. That’s apparently Takemichi’s job. She makes a mental note to go talk to her brother and figure out what his plan is. She was half asleep and focused on the fact that she’s still here in the future that she may have tuned him out a little…she doesn’t remember hearing about any plans except that he was going to get Baji back.

He looks at her carefully and she lets the silence fall as he seems to weigh his options. She takes the chance to practice skating on one foot, keeping her core tight and her balance steady.

“I’m trying to save them.”

Takara looks up, suddenly interested. “Save who?”

“My friends. All of them. I’m doing this for a reason. I have a plan.”

“Is it a good one?” she can’t help but ask.

“It’ll work,” he nods, mostly to himself.

“That’s not what I asked,” she says, taking note of the way he’s not answering. He doesn’t respond and Takara doesn’t push. Her brother used to be the same way. Always had to do his own thing and never wanted an opinion until it blew up in his face. Not…Takemichi. Her other one. One of them.

She stops moving. She knows their names. She does. They were some of her first words but they’re not…they’re not coming to her. It’s like they’re on the tip of her tongue but she can’t seem to grasp it.

“-kara?” Baji steps toward her, drawn out of his planned monologue. “Hey. You okay?” It’s not the first time he’s seen her drift off in thought, face paling as tears build in her eyes.

Her gaze snaps to him as the weight drops in her stomach at the realization that she can’t remember her brothers’ names. “I have to go.”

She bolts. Baji runs after her, yelling for her to stop, but Takara is on wheels and moves like she was born on them. She speeds up, weaving around people with skill she doesn’t often show as she succumbs to the desire to run.

Something is wrong. It’s so fucking wrong that she can barely breathe from the weight on her chest and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She runs over all the names she knows, ones that fit her old life and the person she used to be, but nothing feels like it fits. None of them sound right coming from her lips and she falls to her knees, barely aware of the way her landing scrapes open the skin. She bleeds, on the pavement and in her soul.

Takara doesn’t belong here and every moment is a reminder…except that things keep escaping her. Nothing is as bad as this. Her brothers taught her to skate, they terrorized her and cheered her on and the three of them ran circles around their parents. They are a part of her, down to the DNA they share….

She throws up, heaving the remains of her lunch as her body feels like it’s collapsing inward. She doesn’t share their DNA anymore. She’s not herself. Takara is stuck in a body that shouldn’t exist and playing a role that was cut out just for her. She doesn’t know why. She doesn’t know what happened or if there’s a reason…but she’s losing herself. She’s losing everything.

She only moves when she hears someone shout at her and threaten to call the police. It’s automatic. Takara is only half aware of where she’s going, numb to the world as she goes through the motions to go home. She wants to go to bed. She wants to crawl in and never come out until everything returns to normal. Until she’s back where she belongs.

There’s no car in the driveway and she silently prays that no one is home so she doesn’t have to explain why she feels like shit. She takes off her rollerblades outside the door and creeps in. She makes it as far as the living room doorway before her name is called out. Takara turns at Takemichi’s voice and stops at the sight of the stranger in her home. The boy next to Takemichi is bleach blond and covered in bandages. He looks like he had the shit beat out of him.

Her mouth opens before she can stop herself. “What the fuck happened to you?”

The grief at the loss of a name slips to the back of her mind, forgotten as her brother introduces her to his new friend, Chifuyu.

tag list: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

saudade tag: @thisbicc

network tag: @pixelcafe-network

#fic: saudade #oc: takara #tokyo revengers fic #isekai fic #tokyo revengers oc #tokyo revengers fanfiction #mikey sano x oc #sano mikey x oc #haitani ran x oc #hanma shuji x oc

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stealthnoodle · 24 days

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How to Scrape Your Way Through Honour Mode and Look Reasonably Good Doing It

I won't say I beat Honour Mode on my first try, because my Dishonour Mode playthrough served as a critically useful dry run, but I will say that the first character I made with the intention of completing Honour Mode properly did in fact complete Honour Mode.

Below are the 13 most important lessons I learned along the way that made this possible.

1) Do not be Mothman.

You really want to minimize fights and maximize available vendors. Ask yourself "What would Mothman do?" and then do not do that thing.

2) Do be a half-orc.

Fights can go real wrong real fast, and in the early game, you are perpetually one bad round of combat away from oblivion. In my case, the harpies critted Shadowheart to death, and then every chucklefuck in my party failed their wisdom save at the same time. The other two members ate more multiattacks than they could handle, and then so did Pizzazz, but she held on with one single precious hit point after the last blow. She dug herself out of the hole with heal potions and her fists of righteous anger.

Pizzazz being a half-orc saved the entire run here. Having Death Ward once a day comes in fucking clutch when you're below level 5, and tbh the hardest part of Honour Mode is getting to level 5.

The harpy fight was also when I realized the need for a critical strategy:

3) Make one party member your panic button.

I only really needed this trick in the early game (I cannot emphasize enough how most of my close calls were before level 5), but it saved my ass several times. Panic early, panic often.

Pick the party member who has the least to contribute to a fight and park them where they can't get drawn into initiative. You can leave them all the way back at camp, or if you're me, just put them far back in hiding so it's easy to pull them in to help with late-fight cleanup if things are going well (or to finish a fight in the goofiest way possible, see above). Either way, their job is to run crying to Withers if everyone else dies.

Speaking of which…

4) Exploit Bone Daddy's indifference to being pickpocketed.

You can get back whatever "the price of balance" is by yoinking it right out of Withers's pockets. If you fail the sleight of hand check, no worries; you get pulled out of hiding, but he doesn't react at all, and you can just squat back down and get right back in there.

5) Tell Jesse you need to cook.

Potions of Speed are the goddamn Philosopher's Stones of this game. So I made Gale a Transmutation Wizard, made him proficient in Medicine, and put him in charge of alchemy. Just clearing the gnoll zone got me pretty well set for the first two acts.

Getting double heal pots sure doesn't hurt, either.

6) Start a local chapter of the Warding Bond Cleric Club.

This is something I discovered was possible while I was fretting over prepping for the end of Act 2, because last time was such a clusterfuck. You can hire three hirelings, give them fun names like Ouchie Magnet, Sexy Pincushion, and Yoohoo Loviatar, get them to cast Warding Bond on the party members you actually intend to use, and enjoy the full benefits of it out in the world while your hirelings stand around bleeding at camp.

Any buff that lasts until the next long rest and doesn't require concentration works like this, fyi. Death Ward and Longstrider are also especially handy (and once you get to level 11, Heroes' Feast). Setting this up is tedious enough that I only did it a few times during the game, when I was going into situations I couldn't easily extricate myself from in case of emergency. (So the Mindflayer Colony, the Iron Throne, the Steel Watch Foundry, and one last time for the Temple of Baal.)

7) Break big battles up into bite-sized skirmishes.

Why would I fight all the cultists at Moonrise Tower in a grand climactic battle when I could sneak around before finishing the Gauntlet of Shar and pick off my future foes in packs? Since they're not hostile yet, it's pretty simple to wipe them out one room at a time, using Minor Illusion to lure guards away from their posts. Then I got the joy of showing up with Jaheira and all her Harpers to curbstomp the two (2) guys I missed.

Also good for removing all the intellect devourers before you pick a fight with Mindflayers in the Mindflayer Colony and for surviving gnoll swarms. Sometimes you even get lucky and a hyena falls into a hole, somehow.

8) Fill your camp with literal tons of explosives.

See a smokepowder barrel? Pick it up and send it to camp. Do this consistently and you will have deeply nervous party members every time you light a campfire, probably, but you'll also have a way to cheese boss fights that you're worried about. I chugged elixirs that raised strength before the end of Act 2 so that I could bring a dozen smokepowder barrels with me to the Myrkul fight and absolutely trivialized it.

9) Become a partial illithid.

Mourn your aesthetic and commune with that frosty little worm. (Take Volo's amateur eye surgery, too, btw. Just fuck yourself up.) The powers are worth it. A truly hardcore player would also get their companions to dip a toe into ceremorphosis, but I started by asking Astarion, who fucking loves regular tadpoles, to try it, and his response made me feel so bad that I abandoned the cause entirely.

10) Start your day with a delicious and nutritious Heroes' Feast.

So I never really read the description closely because sometimes I'm just like that, but thanks to the Warding Bond Cleric Club, I started paying closer attention to buffs and holy shit??? Thoroughly Stuffed is a baller condition, and it also makes food. I didn't have to go grocery shopping even once! Having three bonus clerics with spell slots to burn also meant the 6th-level cost wasn't coming out of Shadowheart.

11) Accept that late-game enemy saving throws will mercilessly fuck you.

It feels real bad when you cast a 6th-level spell that operates on saving throws and your target shrugs it off with 0 damage. Spells with attack rolls are usually better bets, and Artistry of War is a wizard's once-per-short-rest MVP. Open Hand Monk Pizzazz was consistently my best damage dealer, especially once I looted the Bonespike Gloves from Strangler Luke.

12) Skip the high-risk low-reward quests in Act 3.

Consider your party composition and tactics and whether any optional quest line is worth completing for its rewards. Cazador, the Sharrans, and Ansur are non-trivially difficult fights that I didn't need to subject myself to, so I didn't. But there's real good shit under Sorcerous Sundries, so of course I cleared out that vault.

Hell isn't actually that bad on Honour Mode (no, really! The restoration faucets have unlimited uses!), but it's not a sure thing and I could live without the rewards. Had a tense moment passing the DC 30 Persuasion check with Kith'rak Voss later, but he chilled out and even let me borrow his dragon's breath.

The only unnecessary hard fight I did was the Steel Watcher Titan, which was a bad call on my part; I kinda wanted the crossbow and I really wanted to keep the runepowder bomb in case I needed it, but Mothman didn't do this fight, so I was not prepared for the Hellfire Steel Watcher Titan's bullshit. I won, but it was a closer shave than it should have been.

Then I ended up not using the crossbow at all.

13) Thank Gale for his sacrifice.

The Netherbrain is fucking nasty on Honour Mode. Fuck Karsite Grip. Fuck Aegis of the Absolute. Does it feel bad to make Gale sacrifice himself? Yes. Would it feel worse to lose the run right before the finish line? Also yes.

I brought every explosive I had with me (which required two rounds of strength-boosting elixirs, because the game hits you with a long rest before the Astral Plane) just in case Gale got cold feet and I burned all my inspiration fucking up the persuasion roll, then went through the sewers to avoid the larger fight. Someone (Gale, so I couldn't be too mad) failed a stealth check and aggroed them all anyway, but Pizzazz covered the ground to the brainstem in like three rounds and everyone warped up after her for the cutscene, so no harm no foul.

Then Gale volunteered—nay, insisted on blowing himself up and I felt bad! Real bad! Not bad enough to change course, but Pizzazz's face was also my face during epilogue:

P.S. At least for me, the achievement procced after the epilogue, credits, and post-credits scene, and I was tense af the entire time. But not so tense I couldn't be sad about Gale (oh no he wrote me a letter) and Astarion (oh no he's still in hiding because of Cazador). Luckily my big hot wife was there to support me.

Anyway, let's load an old autosave on another campaign and check out those golden dice, shall we?

Ahhh, my horrible son

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #stealthnoodle plays bg3 #video #gif #is this a helpful guide or a shitpost? yes.#btw i got all but four hostages off the iron throne while also rescuing duke ravenguard (despite mizora) and omeluum #not a strat just wanted to brag #i would have saved them all if not for their stubby little legs #wyll didn't get his wyrmway but he did get his soul and his dad #so this time there's no “sorry wyll” tag #instead this time it's #sorry gale #and sorry tara

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sygneth · 1 year

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Echoes of Elysium | Disco Elysium AU ...something?

Warnings

General warnings for my blog's content applies. Check here.

This AU is (rather) not very alternative. I am just trying to develop further events and some background for the characters, but even though I'm making research and I try to stay canon-compliant, only to fill in the gaps, I cannot guarantee it will never happen. Especially in this fandom, where many interpretations and paths are equally canon, we may not agree on some things, I hope you'll enjoy my point of view nevertheless. Some episodical OCs will appear too.

INDEX

EOE on ComicFury!

EOE on Tumblr:

Chapter 1: New Beggings -> START

EOE on AO3:

Main plot (uhh still in the process of uploading!)

Ficlet series (additional content)

LORE:

Precinct 41 plans and explanation

Plot outline

After Martinaise things are slowly getting back to normal, but the general atmosphere in the city gets thickens every day, La Retour is hanging in the air. Despite this, Harry is trying to stay sober and make amends. It's hard to say if Kim's appearance on the 41st is making things easier or harder between Harry and his old friends.

The Return happens. In the after-revolutionary mess, everybody tries to move on, but things are changing in almost every aspect of life. And on top of this, a particularly hard case drops and somebody has to take care of it.

The start of the project is directly after Martinaise, so forgive me this vague description, but I would hate to spoil the plot haha.

Okay, from now on additional info, still important but not crushial.

I want to focus on the relationship between the people of Precinct 41 and their internal experiences. Impactful events and thicker action will happen too, but mostly in the later chapters of this.

There are also some important premises of this AU I would like to highlight:

Kim was raised in an orphanage, presumably held by some Dolorian organisation (order?). Some of his old-fashioned manners and vocabulary are remainings after growing up in a religious environment (even if he's not very religious himself).

Eyes died around 9 months before the events from the game. Since then, Kim has been willingly working alone. His superiors were not very fond of that but somehow he managed not to get partnered with anyone.

Harry has no known family members left. At least as far as he and his friends know.

Jean and Harry's partnership started four, maybe five years ago. According to the game, it was "two years minimum" but personally I think those losers were stuck with each other for much longer.

Jean's years-long, unexplained depression has roots in some sort of personality disorder. Also, he is codependent on Harry, probably co-addicted too. He had problem with speed himself, however it's not nearly as serious as Harry's. I see him as more of a weekend/party drug user, as for now.

I assume that since the communist revolution gay relationships were technically legal in Revachol. Technically, because there are still no rights for same-sex couples and the social recognition is poor and rather negative (I got inspired by my own country in that matter)

That's all I can think of now. I will probably just add new information in the description of he pages.

Okay, cool, one last thing. What do you mean by "...something?"? Is this a comic? A fanfiction series? What am I looking at?

The answer is: I don't yet know. I am planning this to be mostly a comic, but I cannot say there won't be some written as fanfics parts or some kind of in-between media. I don't really want to limit myself to one medium only, but at this point, I have no idea what this will evolve into. I honestly just want to have fun lol

#let's bring it on #disco elysium #disco elysium fanart #informative #echoes of elysium #my art #sort of?

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palmtreesx3 · 1 year

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Act 2 - Exploration

Lubrication (Steve's Chapter)

<;- Previous Chapter || Next Chapter ->

Series Masterlist

Get in the mood for this installment:

Series Playlist

Lubricant Mood Board

Summary: (9.3K) While Robin and Alex approach serious relationship territory, Steve still finds himself bubbling around the city solo. Steve is now spreading is wings, nonetheless, finding things (albeit tentatively) that he genuinely is enjoying for himself, not for others. We see Alex and Steve connect and start to build a relationship and loads of supportive friendship from the ladies towards their #1 guy. The antics in the shop are going full force and a memorable night comes from one charismatic customer interaction and more chance meetings with you encourage Steve to seal the deal. Seeing Steve start to loosen up is the name of this game. So slide in and enjoy this chapter of Get Off.

Warnings: it's a sex shop and generally just NSFW so 18+. Sex paraphernalia, sexual innuendo aplenty, Drag Queen's and LGBTQ+ culture, failed dating, male masturbation, shop talk, porn watching, fluffy f/f affection and one-sided lust.

The sound of rubber hitting the pavement follows Steve along, while the sun is cresting along Lake Michigan and bouncing prisms off the skyscrapers along the lakeside trail. Sweat is trailing from the hairs on his neck, down the curve of his spine and the wind is whipping at his face. The last three weeks, Steve has taken up running in the early mornings. Something he used to do out of obligation but is now doing by choice. Stripping away the "expectation" of running for distance or speed or endurance and settling into the idea of running for the feeling, the self care.

It's not that he's feeling self conscious, really, but the softness around his tummy does make him pause in the mirror lately. He never noticed before how much being truly active made him feel good. That being athletic wasn't just about a big win or suffering through the aftermath of a loss in his living room at the hands of his father. So here Steve is with another new hobby and a little more self discovery, and the time he spends running and thinking allows him to be just a little more level headed than he ever was before.

He's been exploring this idea that he spent so long running from, that being alone doesn't need to be lonely. He's discovered that independence was about surviving on his own and going through life with absent parents - still making it to each game not only on time but early, never missing a doctor's appointment, eating dinner and not surviving on pizza. This is something different. This is doing things alone because you want to, experiencing things for yourself, being comfortable in your interests and and comfort in knowing who you are and who you might want to be. Autonomy, individuality.

In his post-run haze, Steve is sprinting up the steps after his morning run one day when he's abruptly stopped in the hallway by a swinging door to his face and an angry teenager storming out of it right into his path. He's heard them before - his neighbors - probably the worst part of their apartment living situation was whatever went on over there. The boy, whoever he was, was loud, angry. when he was actually home and wasn't angry, he was blasting music that made the walls shake. He was mean. And most times the girl would not respond. Her voice wouldn't be heard over his. Every so often she'd stand her ground and shout back, but when she did there were always slammed doors, the bang of fits on the wall. All things that made Steve's skin crawl.

This time, he didn't hear the shouts or the argument but he saw the aftermath. The tear stricken face of the redhead girl who didn't look up from her feet as she stormed out, and walked right into his chest. "Sorry. Fuck. Sorry." She snapped as her striking blue eyes bore through him like he should be sorry for what he said - when he didn't even say a thing. "Hey hey hey… you good?" Steve reaches up to grab her shoulders and look at her directly.

"Yeah I'm fuckin' peachy. What do you care?" She bites back harder.

" I- I'm your neighbor, Steve. I mean, I … "

"Oh, so you hear all the shit my brother of the year says to me then, huh? Don't look at me like that." There's that bite again. "I don't want your pity."

"No, no. It's not like that I… I'm just."

He's caught off guard by the healthy eye roll he receives by the young girl who moved to push past Steve, who still finds himself holding her shoulders in place as some form of comfort or grounding. "C'mon, don't be like that. I'm not trying to be an asshole, just… where are you going? "

"Over the rainbow. Fantasia, Sesame Street. Literally anywhere but with that dickwad."

"What about .. would you just come in our place? Hide out there for a while?"

" Are you some fuckin weirdo? I don't even know you. "

" I know… I know, I just… you shouldn't have to run like that. Just, c'mon. I'll leave you alone, just… come hang out in our place. Robin's in there. We… we can just - please let me help you out." He has no idea why he feels the need to help this nameless girl so badly, he just knows that he does.

"Listen. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't need you. I was fine before you moved in, I'll still be fine now that you're here."

Steve knows when to stop pushing, even though his stubborn streak tells him to keep going. This time he decides to bite his tongue and let it go. "For what it's worth, I used to think I didn't need anyone else either." And with that he walked around her and left the girl standing in the hallway. Looking back one last time before walking through his doorway he catches her standing in the hallway for a beat, before storming towards the elevator doors.

Things have been slow this afternoon, only the dull buzz of the cc camera system running in the background and the mundane tapping of the duo on the glass case counter. Steve and Robin are killing time behind it, perched on backless stools, legs kicked up along side one another on the glass "Alex is really just...dude. She makes me feel so mature. Like… I don't feel like a bumbling idiot band freak for once in my life. I think this is going somewhere Steve. You gotta meet her. Okay? You gotta. I don't think I can get any more serious with her unless you meet her and like her, too."

"Robbie, just bring her around. Stop over thinking things. Jesus Christ. I love you. I'm sure I'll love her too. Just… invite her over or something. Not everything has to be a big event."

And as if he could smell that a serious conversation was going on without him, Murray busts in to the store floor. "Hey video store boy, I gotta job for you today!" he tosses a giant box of used porn tapes up on the counter. "These puppies need to be rewound and checked so we can do a discount sale."

"Ah fuck. I left these days behind me, man? Wait - did you say checked? Like for what? "

"Quality, damage, ya know… .looks like you're watching some porn today, Romeo! You can use the back room, buddy boy. I won't judge you if you want to spank it while you watch ‘em through. S'been awhile, right? Can't let Robin and her little girlfriend be the only one getting off around here."

Steve scoffs at Murray's comment. "The fuck, man? That was uncalled for."

Robin stifles a giggle. "He makes a point, Stevie. You haven't had much luck since nightclub chick on the first weekend. This might be a record drought for you. Are you even trying? I thought you were going out some of those nights? Nothing work out?"

"Robin. C'mon. I'm not talking about this with you …both of you …now." Steve doesn't want to explain that he's gone on a few dates with the girls he meets out at the bars or clubs, but those nights Robin is out, that's when Steve has been going out, sure, but it's been solo. Sitting at different restaurant bars, sampling new foods, trying to figure his life out.

And as if the Sex Shop Gods heard his prayers, the bell rings signaling a customer.- the first one all afternoon. "I'll do your stupid tapes after this." He grumbles; a charming customer service voice turned up full throttle after that "Hello sir! Welcome. What can I help you with today? "

The suit clad man, Steve estimated to be in his mid 40s, joins Steve at the counter and in hushed tones asks for some help picking out a good quality lube. "Yeah man, let's get you hooked up." He claps his hands together and leads the man to the racks across the store.

"Boys sensitive. Still got some shit going on, yeah?" Murray mumbles to Robin. She sighs and just nods in his direction.

"Yeah, man. I thought he was keeping busy, going on dates or whatever when I go out with Alex but something isn't adding up. He went through a phase where he was striking out with every girl left and right when I met him, and this isn't the same… " she trails off.

"... Prince Charming is still falling short." Murray finishes, as he gazes at Steve across the store.

Steve emerges from the back room hours later, rubbing his hands down his face looking exhausted. " Rob, you gotta come back here with me. I can't watch one more of these pornos by myself. I think I'm going delirious - oh shit. Sorry I didn't know we had a customer. Sorry."

"Steve. Dingus. Chill. It's… not a customer. This… uh. This is -"

"Hey, what's up? I'm Alex. And you're Steve. Cuter up close." She winks at him, eyes glistening with mischief as she leans in with an outstretched hand. Her firm handshake taking Steve by surprise.

"Oh fuck. Hey. It's good to meet you Alex. .. what do you mean cuter up close?"

"Uh yeah. I mean I'm pretty sure I left out that part about when we met. She… she thought you were my boyfriend - "

"Typical. " Steve cocks his shoulder up in a shrug.

"- Exactly. That's what I said. But anyway. She thought we were dating because she'd see us at the coffee shop and she was… "

"I was admiring you guys from afar. Thought you were the fuckin cutest pair. Called you Coffee Shop couple in my mind." She confidently explains.

"Stalker. " Steve teases.

"Robs, I like him. Yeah, so until I ran into Robin that day by herself I was just daydreaming of this unattainable coffee shop couple. I guess if you're not real, at least I could settle for half of you,"

"The better half," Robin muses. The twinkle of a Tamagotchi goes off in the background.

"Go care for your spawn, Robin, or you're gonna owe me another drink tonight." Steve teases.

"Fuck! I don't have the extra cash to carry your drinking habits this week, Harrington." She shouts as she sprints off to the break room to fetch her keychain.

"She's something else." Alex says, now left alone with Steve for the first time." Sorry if I came off stalker-y. I tend to come on strong."

"Funny enough, I actually know the feeling. You're fine. You make her happy and that's all I ever want for her." He smiles.

"You're a good friend, Steve." Alex gets out, before Robin barrels into the store floor again swinging her keychain, shit eating grin on her face. "It lives to die another day! No drinks for you tonight, Harrington."

"You guys need some company? What's on the agenda this afternoon? I'm free for the next few hours?" Alex leans back on the counter looking between the pair.

"Well … dingus here just was asking for some company as he reviews the secondhand pornos in the back room. Quality checks on the pros knocking boots. Wanna come?" Robin offers. "I got snacks."

"Oh hell yeah, I'm coming" she responds quickly, grabbing Robin's hand and following her to the back room.

What the fuck, Steve thinks to himself. He's never met someone as bold and free as Alex and he's only known her for 15 minutes. He shakes his head and comes to the conclusion that yes, he's gonna spend his afternoon watching pornos with his best friend and her girlfriend. All for a paycheck. Can't make this shit up. He runs his hands through his hair and follows the pair back behind the drapes. "Alex, as the guest of honor, you pick the next one. Anything on the pile. I'll rewind and get it rolling."

This time it's a totally kitschy plotline where the maid gets herself stuck in the oven while she's cleaning it rolls on the box screen television in the back. Robin is sat on the old couch with Alex next to her, arm tossed over her shoulder rubbing her thumb along her exposed skin. Steve perches himself along the arm of the couch, back to the wall, legs kicked up the trio laid back with a soundtrack of moans and groans in the background. Steve's eyes are flitting between the screen and the two girls on the couch before he breaks the silence.

"So we're either gonna make this funny, or it might get totally weird, what's it gonna be?"

"You mean you don't want to sensually watch this girl get a banana in the fruit salad while we're both here? Don't enjoy watching some random dude fill the cream donut with your best friend and her girl?"

Steve groans and her never-ending wild euphemisms for sex before Alex throws a wide, teasing grin his way before saying, "Look at her tits. No wonder she got stuck. They have to be the size of watermelons."

Robin giggles before her own observations come tumbling forth, "Listen, we all know a man is basically the least appealing thing on the planet to me, but that guy's legs look like a chicken. Am I wrong?"

"Nah, he needs to go for a run. Do a leg day or something." Steve laughs back. "I'm surprised he even has any power behind that thrust."

And things go on like this for the rest of the afternoon, fits of sarcasm, giggles, and gaping mouths, especially for Robin as she wails out and hides her eyes every time a guy slips it in on the screen, Alex teasing her relentlessly "C'mon! It's just biological. That guy's dick actually isn't that bad. He's got some girth." A louder groan comes from Robin as she tries to block out the words from her ears. "Robs, it's like… it's probably like when I use three fingers instead of two, you like that."

"Nope! Nope. I'm out. I'm done." Steve yells, throwing his hands up in the air and pushing off the couch arm where he was still lounging. "I don't need to hear that shit. Fuck right off, both of you."

Robin's face is a mix of pure embarrassment intermingling with absolute entertainment. Her shocked face morphing into a shit eating grin at Steve's uncomfortable pacing.

"You two finish these tapes together. No funny business on that couch either because I nap there. None of this three fingers bullshit. Fuck. ROBIN. I… " Steve's ranting fades off into the distance as he walks through the curtain still blabbering, hands on his hips, leaving Alex and Robin full on cackling in the back room.

Not twenty minutes goes by before Robin hears the ding of the bell and a voice that's not Steve's shout "What the fuck did you sell me? My dick is falling off!" The pair’s eyes go wide and dart to look at one another and back at the curtain before they both clamber over one another to push through the curtain. Just about the same time, Murray is emerging from his back office to see what the fuss is about.

"You need to fix this!" The older suited man from earlier bellows at Steve across the counter.

"Dude, I don't know what you're talking about. Do you mean the tingling?"

"Tingling? My dick is gonna fall off, did you hear me?"

"What the fuck, man! Are you having a reaction?" Steve shouts back.

"You did this to me!"

Steve’s voice wavers under the weight of the unexpected confrontation, stumbling over words as he attempts to respond. "I-I mean, seriously?" he shakes his head, expressing a blend of confusion and frustration. "I.. what-what the fuck. I didn't do anything!"

"Sir, sir, please calm down and explain what your issue is. If my Associate here made a mistake I'm sure - " he glares over at Steve "he will apologize. Right?"

"Yeah yeah, Christ. Just… your dick isn't gonna fall off man, let's just figure this out."

And before any of them knows it, the man's dick is out of his pants and slapped on top of the counter for the whole group to see. Even Murray is surprised by this turn of events and hesitates before he can come up with anything to say. "Ok, what the fuck, man?"

This time, more calmly, dick still out on the glass, the man explains that he thinks his dick is going to fall off because it won't stop burning. Steve goes on to recount for the group that yes, that probably is true because the man picked out tingling lube, so he should, justifiably expect some tingling. "Why would I want my dick to burn like this? I thought that meant like… a good orgasm."

"No man, when I said this one tingles, I literally meant it tingles."

"So, that's why my asshole is burning, too?" The buttoned up man whispers to Steve sheepishly. "I- I used a lot."

"Yeah buddy. Yeah... That's… wh-why your asshole is burning, too. How about we… get ya a new one and send you on your way so you can shower? How's that? "

Things go on like this for about a week. Robin and Steve working and Alex popping in daily to spend some time there with them. Murray has taken a liking to her, too. Obviously, with her quick wit and bold nature, they're quite an unruly pair. Robin is often embarrassed as the two of them get into conversation (and sometimes debates) about work, life, Murray's experiences in the 70s, recreational drugs, politics, of course sex and more. Steve often is the brunt of any teasing, which he learns to take with surprising agreeableness, often waving them off as he walks away bitching, but not doing much to hide his smirk at the exchange either.

In between Alex's shameless flirting with Robin, today's customer comes in and unlike the typical bumbling hesitation so many have when they walk in the sex shop, fresh with the self-perceived shame of coming in a place like this for pleasure, this one marches in with purpose. The man, with perfectly gelled platinum blonde hair and meticulously crafted eyebrows nods at the crew commingled around the register as he beelines it for the BDSM section.

Its moments later before the man, wearing the tightest jeans Steve has ever seen (and that's saying a lot. He knows his are snug), smacks down the most high end leather whip that the store carries - handles laden in sparkling jewels, the smell of genuine leather catching their noses. "Hey man." He says to Steve, as he waits to be checked out.

"Bitchin' choice" Robin compliments.

"Yeah? You like this stuff?"

"Oh fuck no, it's still cool though."

"I gotta be honest, I don't either. But it's not for that. It's part of my outfit - my costume. I do drag and I needed a little something extra for the show next weekend. It just wasn't edgy enough for the new theme."

Alex is immediately interested. "Drag? What's your costume? Do you have a character?" Totally perked up and leaning in to hear more.

"My drag name is Roxy Royale. We dance at The Rainbow Room downtown. It's a Dungeons and DRAGons show next weekend. I shouldn't spoil it and you should just come to the show to see what I'm wearing!" Emphasizing the drag when he speaks.

He sees the varying levels of interest on the group's face, ranging from pure excitement to total confusion, the latter of which was written all over Steve's face. "Loads of people come. All different types." He looks directly at Steve and then back to the other two girls, "I promise, it won't make you gay, it's just a good time."

Robin and Alex chime in " .. already there buddy." Alex looks at Steve, still looking kind of uncomfortable and says "Steve, c'mon. Stop being so Hawkins and let's go."

Robin hums in agreement before she adds "But you're not wearing a polo."

The anticipation buzzed in the air as Steve, Robin, and Alex stood in line outside The Rainbow Room, the venue hosting the Dungeons and Dragons drag show. Neon lights illuminated the night, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the excited crowd. Steve shifted uncomfortably, feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity as he adjusted the collar of one of the new shirts he picked out with the help of Robin and Alex - his polo traded for a simple black short sleeved button up with a collar, Nikes traded for a new pair of Converse, much to Robin's delight.

Earlier that night, after taking some extra time getting himself ready, he was nervous for the opinion of his friend. "Dude. Yes. Dude! Did you do that all on your own? Cuff up those pants like that? Hell yes. Let's fuckin' go!" And with just that little praise, he felt a little more at ease, but now standing there after Alex just popped open one more button at the top of the collar to show off a little more of his freckle spattered chest and a wisp of the patch of hair hiding underneath, he's trying hard not to be self conscious.

This was a far cry from the small town house parties he was used to, and his heart raced at the thought of stepping into this new world, especially in these new shoes. Even those first few weekends out at the huge night club didn’t make him feel quite as nervous. Maybe it was a mix of the fact that he was standing in line waiting for a Drag Show and the fact that he’s wearing clothing that he bought specifically to prove to Robin that he can loosen up a little, but he’s feeling more like he doesn’t belong than ever.

Robin, on the other hand, was practically bouncing on her toes. She couldn't help but shoot excited glances at Alex, who constantly exudes that confident aura that only amplifying Robin's enthusiasm. Alex's arm was casually draped around Robin's shoulders, and she leaned in to press a quick kiss to Robin's temple, a gesture that grounded Robin's nervous energy and filled her with warmth.

As they finally stepped into the venue, the energy enveloped them like a whirlwind. The air was filled with laughter, and the mesmerizing beat of music. Glitter and sequins adorned every corner, reflecting prismatic light off of every surface. The cocktail waitresses had hair teased high and arches in their lipstick drawn just as dramatically.

"Wow," Steve breathed, his eyes wide as he took in the exuberant surroundings.

"Oh, I can get behind this! Look at these outfits! Everyone looks so AMAZING!” Robin continues to take it all in.

Alex smirks and leans over into Steve, their burgeoning friendship something Steve has found himself grateful for on more than one occasion already, "Don't worry, Steve. Your sense of adventure is about to level up."

They found seats at a table draped with a sequined tablecloth, the anticipation growing as they ordered drinks - one called Ruff'n'Tough for Alex, a Pop My Cherry for Robin, and Steve's, a Sex Panther, which made the girls grin wide and stifle back giggles when he ordered it from the cocktail waitress.

Despite its delicate pink color from the grenadine, the zip of bourbon against Steve's tongue gives him some simple comfort. Gazing on at the stage adorned with a dragon-themed backdrop, and the lights dimmed as the emcee, Roxy Royale herself, strutted onto the stage in a dazzling, shimmering gown that seemed to change colors with every movement. The trio cheered loudly as Roxy brandished the recognizable whip during her lavish entrance.

As the performances began, Steve's initial unease slowly melted away. The performers were masters of their craft and it was way less sexual than he honestly expected. The performers' routines merged fantasy, comedy, and sensuality and clearly took a lot of talent. Robin leaned over to Steve, her eyes showing off just how much fun she was having. "See, Stevie? It's all about embracing yourself. Not one person here is having a bad time. Look at them!"

Steve chuckled, feeling himself relax as he watched a performance that involved a sword fight with inflatable dragons, all set to a pulsating dance beat. He found himself clapping and whooping along with the crowd and he couldn’t even hide the fact that he was enjoying himself if he tried.

Alex leaned over her girlfriend's lap and into Steve's space, her tone playful when she says "Steve… these performers sure know how to wield their swords, wouldn’t you agree."

Steve's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement dancing in his eyes. He shook his head and laughed, finally letting go of his reservations. "Total experts." He agrees.

As the night unfolded, their table became a hub of excitement. They exchanged laughs, stories, and delighted gasps, camaraderie growing stronger with each performance. Steve found himself caught up in the energy, even joining the crowd in dancing as sparkling, iridescent confetti falls from the ceiling during the finale, the group clapping along to Madonna’s “Like a Prayer". The three are shouting into the crowd, truly not having a care in the world.

Once the performances are over, the crowd congregates and enjoys the pumping beats of the music along with the performers on the dance floor. One big syncopated rhythm running through the entire crowd. Steve had shed his initial reservations completely and was now dancing with newfound confidence, amongst his friends and complete strangers, the dip in his shirt opening just one more button now - maybe by accident, maybe his fingers found their way there on their own and loosened it up just one more notch. Steve won’t admit this out loud, but everything here at this place feels so much safer and enjoyable than any night he’s spent with his friends out at the local clubs.

When the familiar opening notes of "It's Raining Men" fill the air, the crowd erupts in cheers and claps. All the performers on the floor start catcalling all the men in the crowd as the music starts to pick up and the notes crescendo, energy building along with the beat.

Suddenly, the room dims slightly, and a spotlight shone on a dazzling figure at the center of the stage. The performer adorned in shimmering hot pants, twirling a rhinestone bedazzled umbrella above her head holds the audience's attention. “I got one more for ya, Bitches!” She exclaims and with a mischievous grin, she scans the crowd. And in a flash, her gaze lands on Steve.

"Oh honey, look who we have here!" The drag queen's voice boomed through the speakers, her words carrying a blend of playfulness and allure.

Steve's eyes widened in surprise as he realized he was being singled out and the crowd is cheering him on. He exchanged glances with Robin and Alex, who were clearly delighted by the turn of events, Robin clapping her hands and jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas. With hot pink tipped nails, the performer extends her hand, beckoning him toward the stage with a flick of her wrist. "C'mon honey. Don't keep me waiting."

With an encouraging nod from his friends, Steve found himself moving toward the stage, his heart racing with a mix of exhilaration and nervousness - but he’s surprised to notice it’s not at all the embarrassment he might have expected. The crowd parted like a sea, creating a path for him to reach the stage.

Steve reached the stage, feigning as much of his King Steve confidence as possible on the way there, the drag queen held out her hand, her smile inviting and warm. "Come on, sweetheart! Let's show them how it's done!"

Caught up in the moment, Steve took her hand, feeling an unexpected surge of genuine confidence, so he dropped the act, giving her a real, thousand watt beaming smile - the kind he used to use on all the girls back in Hawkins to make them melt. The performer expertly led him into a dance, her movements fluid and engaging and Steve took all the bait. He threw his head back in laughter, matching her steps to the best of his ability while the cheers and whistles of the crowd fueled his ego.

As the song reached its climax, the performer spun Steve around before twirling herself, their movements synchronized to the music and the crowd roared in approval, the energy radiating through the room.

When the song ended the performer pulled Steve into a theatrical bow, popping her hip out and gesturing towards Steve with open arms, the crowd erupting in applause once again. Steve's cheeks were flushed, happiness painting his expression while his chest heaved up and down from exertion.

After he stepped down from the stage hands reaching out to shake his, clapping at his back out of acknowledgement and camaraderie, he makes his way towards the bar near the back of the room to get himself a drink and take a seat. As he slides out the barstool and slides in, a sweet voice next to him says “Well that was unexpected, Pearl Jam.”

His eyes snap open, lips barely touching the glass of beer he desperately wants to throw back for hydration, as he looks to his right to find the pretty girl he immediately recognizes from the Record Store. “Pearl Jam? I think that’s a better nickname for you - it’s good by the way. I didn’t think I’d like it, but I’m into it. So thanks, for that.”

“Hmm, I’m glad you did. I feel accomplished when I do my civic duty and turn random cute strangers on to good music.” You say with a smile, and before Steve can respond, you’re up off your stool and lost in the crowd. Steve is left sitting there sipping his beer, shaking his head with a smile on his lips wondering what your name really is and what brought you here tonight, and only for a split second, did Steve wonder if he's ever run into you again.

By the end of the evening, early morning at this point, the trio finds themselves standing outside The Rainbow Room, faces glowing with joy and a lot of new memories.

"I can't believe we almost missed this," Steve admitted with a smile, the words carrying a hint of wonder.

Robin bumped her shoulder playfully against Steve's. "Hey, sometimes you just have to roll a natural 20 on your courage check."

Alex grinned and intertwined her fingers with Robin's. "And look where it took us. An unforgettable night with dragons, glitter, and Steve Harrington dancing on stage twirling an umbrella."

“Listen, and you’d never believe what happens next…” Robin shouts down the bar.

“Robin! C’mon.” Steve begs.

“Oh no, Red, you gotta tell us. Please, tell us what happened next.” Murray encourages. Their boss has joined the pair for a few drinks after a late night closing up shop and preparing for The Hideout’s semi-annual sale, so Murray can make room for new inventory after he travels to the annual Adult Novelty Trade Show in Boston in a few weeks.

“Fine, let me do it. She….they picked me out and I went up on stage.”

“NO.” Murray gasps. Clutching his hand to his chest like he’s grasping onto a set of pearls.

Hopper is slapping the bar in laughter as Joyce pours Steve a shot “Here honey, it’s on the house for all this abuse you’re taking. If you had fun, that’s all that matters.”

“Hop, you should have seen him. It was amazing.” She shouts as she stands over by the jukebox. Before Steve’s brain catches up to Robin’s antics, he realizes too late what she is doing, and the opening bars of “It’s Raining Men” blare over the speakers.

“NO NO NO!” Murray chants. “THIS was the song? Jesus that’s fuckin priceless, pretty boy.”

After some back and forth debate on whether or not Steve should give an encore performance on the bar of Bennys, the crew opts to forgo that experience in favor of another round. Steve’s treat if only to “Shut you all the fuck up.”

The group settles into smaller conversations, Hop and Joyce getting the latest scoop on Robin and Alex and their most recent dates at the end of the bar. Joyce, looking on at Robin thrilled and proud like a mother, would be learning about her little girl’s first love. Murray is still seated next to Steve and, unlike his normal taunting of the boy, he genuinely starts asking Steve about how he’s settling in these days.

“Man, it’s been hard actually. I had no idea how little I had myself figured out until I came here. I feel like a fish out of water sometimes, but it’s kinda been fun trying to figure it all out.” Steve ruminates. “Thanks…for actually asking, though.”

“Red really is the only one lucky enough to bag a girl, though? Huh? I don’t mean to always tease, but what’s the deal? I know you got it in you. A face like that, I know. you know how to use it” He settles back into a slight tease.

Steve takes a few minutes to tell him about Melissa - oh god, what a jab to the ego that was - and a few other mundane dates he set up with random girls he met the night prior at the club or the bar they went out to over the weekend. But what he can't figure out is why they all fell short. Every single one. Despite their agreeableness to meet him in the daylight, they had no real interest in being on a date with him, they only wanted to get liquored up and dance with him in the dark. He’s been either bored to death or strung up and eaten alive and there has been absolutely no in between.

“Okay, but…have you ever asked a woman out on a date?” He holds his hand up at Steve to cut off his impending rebuttal “NOT a girl. A woman. And not some small town high school date to the movies or the make out point on the bluff. A date where you do something and learn something about each other?”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but realizes he has nothing to say.

"Dude you gotta lube 'em up before you slide home. I get that you were prom king or whatever but that's not how the world works. Women. Real women are not going to just throw themselves at you because you can flip your hair outta your eyes. "

They both bring their beers up to their lips and Steve considers the man's advice in silence. “Because it sounds like you're trying to catch yourself a good woman but you're out here using bait for girls. Good women know their value and they don't sell themselves short. They did that. Some twerp like you fucked them up one time and they went on a path of self discovery. So if you're laying down fuckboy shit, that's all you'll get in return.”

Steve nods, taking in what Murray has to say and thinking hard. "Yeah, that…makes more sense than I want to even admit. Especially to you.” The pair exchange a glance and Steve stretches out his beer towards Murray, who bears his teeth wide as he reaches back to clink his glass with Steves.

"Stevie, c'mere!" He hears Robin call from her bedroom.

"What! Robin. I swear to God you two better be clothed."

The door creaking open slowly, he's met with Robin and Alex laying with their backs on the floor, snuggled close together, legs propped up in the air on the bed. "Nah, no Afternoon Delight in here today."

"Robin, where in the hell do you keep coming up with these? For a girl who wouldn't talk about boobies with me a few years ago, this is ridiculous."

"What can I say, I'm coming -" she says suggestively with a wink "- into my own. "

"Ok that's enough Sex Talk with Robin, whaddya want?"

Steve jumps onto Robin's bed, bouncing a bit as the mattress settles, legs crossing theirs and looking down on the pair tangled on the floor. After a lead-in of stumbling, stuttering worlds from Robin, Alex interrupts her girlfriend to save everyone from the stress induced misery "As you surely can see, Robin is a little stressed."

"Yeah, what about, Robbie?"

"This little lady here wants to see if you want to join us tonight."

He looks at Robin and then back at Alex confused "Were not hanging out tonight, it's your weekly date night? "

The pair go on to explain how Robin is worried because Murray told her he's not actually going on dates when they are out on theirs and it's giving her a complex about leaving her best friend behind. For a moment he's irritated that Murray would open his cocky big mouth like that, but he takes a second to consider that it wasn't to talk about him behind his back and make fun of him. After their heart to heart at the bad, he can see that Murray actually means well.

"Robbie, look at me. It's okay. I'm not sitting around moping. I… I actually go out on my own. Enjoy a meal, try a new drink. It's nice actually. Did you know I actually like red wine? And.. maybe I'll third wheel on another day - that's NOT your date night. I'll take you to one of the places I found. It's… I promise I'm actually really good with it. I don't feel lonely when you're out together. "And it's the softness in his moss colored eyes that's the only thing that put Robin at ease. She was just so concerned that leaving him alone made him feel the same as he did in Hawkins, but she could see that her friend was being honest. She could see that he meant it when he didn't feel lonely and she believed him.

And so instead of quietly dusting off on his own after Robin leaves on her date, they get ready together. Alex assuring them that they both look great, Steve needing more encouragement than Robin as he digs into the pile of new clothing again, he eventually just lets the pair pick out his options, leaving him with well fitting black denim, opting for the comfort of the black chucks he's already taken to wearing. "Cuff 'em again, hot stuff. That was a good look for you." Robin mentions as she finishes off his outfit by handing him a deep emerald green short sleeve button up with subtle little vertical stripes running its length.

"Do me a favor, and leave it open. Don't button yourself up. You get too stuffy." He glares at Robin, getting a little bold with her opinion "... Please." She tacks on with a forced smile.

The three exit the building together and even take the train as a group until Alex tugs at Robin's hand signaling the end of their ride. Steve has a few more stops, so he settles into his seat solo as he waves at the girls, shouting after them to have a good night and stay out of trouble.

The sun is setting over the city now, casting shadows through orange and lavender tinted clouds as he approaches a restaurant downtown that looks interesting and has space at the bar. It's a little more sleek than he normally would pick out, shiny bar laden with expensive looking cocktails and bottles behind the bar, patrons sprinkled through the dining area tucked in close to one another on dates or crowded around raucous tables fill of businessmen after work. Steve's moving his fingers and toying absentmindedly with the buttons of his shirt hanging loose as he slides in to the last open spot at the bar.

After enjoying his meal and having a few glasses of wine, whatever the bartender recommend, he sits back and enjoys a moment of people watching. Considering what kind of stories all of these other people have. If the bartender always lived in the city or came here running away from something; If the two women next to him fiddling with their wedding rings love their husbands at all after overhearing their complaints over cosmos all night; if the men in business suits at the corner table closed a deal today or are just so rich they do this every week.

He wonders if the girl sitting with his back to him is on a first or maybe a third… quickly deciding it had to be a first date by the way they weren't touching and how he saw her leg bouncing. But it's the way she throws back her half full glass of wine in one gulp tells him that she's not having a good time, so with nothing better to do he decides to watch someone else's date go down in flames, and continues sipping while glancing their way.

Steve noticed that the date, buttoned up and looking a little stuffy with his hair slicked back, almost looking wet, and his fingers tapping along to nothing in particular on the table has not stopped talking - at least since Steve's last glass was refilled. Unsurprisingly, the girl raises to her feet gesturing in the direction of the bathroom, and Steve readjusts to make sure it's not so obvious he's watching.

But it's on her way back, heels clicking along the shiny tiles of the restaurant that Steve chances a glance and knows exactly who this mystery woman is. Well, not exactly. He has no idea what your name is, but he knows exactly who you are. The girl from the record store. Pearl Jam. And it seems as though you recognize him, too, eyes catching one another just for an instant as you pass.

Now he’s distracted. You’ve never stayed put long enough in the two times you’ve crossed paths previously for him to truly take you in, so he’s doing it now. Drinking you in like the wine in his hand. He can see now, from this angle, the curve of your nose and makes particular note of the way your hair falls. He wonders for a moment what it feels like when someone runs their fingers through it. He sees the deep color of your eyes, and can tell by the way you’re sitting and carrying yourself in the face of a date that looks like a total douchebag that you aren’t easy to impress, nor are you easy to rattle. Stubborn, I bet, Steve thinks to himself.

Looking at his watch, one of the only nice things his dad ever bought him that he chose to bring along in this new life, he decides one more drink is about enough before heading home. Mid-way through his last glass, he sees the table you and the date were occupying is being bussed, presumed bad date over. Steve pays the bartender, and tips well. Probably too well for his Sex Shop Salary, but it’s at least one good habit he learned from his otherwise despicable father.

Stepping outside of the restaurant, Steve immediately sees you standing near the curb across the street, searching through your bag with a mixture of frustration and annoyance evident on your face. Steve observed from a distance, his curiosity piqued seeing you standing there alone. As you reach your hand out to hail a cab while continuing to rifle through your pocketbook, Steve hesitated for a moment before making a decision. He crossed the street, his steps purposeful. As he approaches, you looked up from your bag, and for a brief moment, your eyes met. Steve offered a friendly smile, hoping to ease any awkwardness.

"Need some help, Pearl Jam?" he asked, his voice carrying a touch of warmth.

You blinked in surprise, then sighed in relief. "Actually, yes. My date's idea of chivalry didn't include paying for the cab fare. Or my meal for that matter. Told me I seemed to be into feminism and all so I should have no problem covering my own meal. Can you believe that shit? So..I think I'm short on a goddamn cab and...."

Steve chuckled, "Well, that doesn't sound very chivalrous at all."

With a sheepish grin, you shrugged. "Yeah, tell me about it. Lesson learned, I guess."

As the cab pulls up, Steve offers you a solution. “Which way are you going? We can share instead?” and he can see the relief roll off of your shoulders.

“At this point, I don’t even care which direction you’re going. I’ll join you as long as it’s away from here.”

Steve's lips twitched with amusement. "Sounds like you're having quite the night."

You rolled your eyes, then glanced at him. "How about you? Just leaving the restaurant? Where's your date?"

"Yeah, just finishing up, and there was no date. Just me." Steve replied. "Honestly, it's been a pretty uneventful evening until now." He flashes a smile.

And as the cab ride continued, both you and Steve found that the conversation flowed easily. Now, to his great pleasure, he knows your actual name. He knows that, though you look too young to be so accomplished, you work at Loyola University and are a professor teaching both psychology and art and blending the two as often as you can in special topic courses. He learns you have been in the city for five years, and you were at the Drag Show with some of your Art Department colleagues. When he realizes you're waiting for him to share the same details about himself, you see the glimmer of something that looks like shame in his eyes.

"Well, I just kind of moved here. It's… it's going. Not exactly where I thought I'd be with my life so .."

"Steve, it's okay you don't have to be doing big things to be a good guy. You know that right?" You say, hand on his forearm in an attempt to encourage him, but instead its setting off electrical charges he can't ignore.

"Yeah, I mean… well I was at the Drag Show because one of our customers was the Emcee and invited us. She.. uh, bought her whip from the store my roommate and I work at. It's not a long term thing - God at least I hope it's not - shit. But.. yeah it's what I'm doing anyway so… " he trails off and shrugs. Praying to God you don't think he's some kind of loser.

And if you do, you don't show it. You don't press and you let him say just as much as he wants. The rest of the car ride is friendly and Steve has coaxed at least three fits of giggles out of you. He makes a mental note that he's done more in the 15 minute cab ride than he is sure your stupid date did all meal.

As you reached your destination, you paid the cab fare with a grateful smile. "Thanks for the help and the company. You sure turned my date night around. I was so excited for dessert but that guy was so awful I needed to get away as quickly as possible. So I guess this cab ride was my sweet treat. " you said.

Steve nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie. "No problem at all. Hey, I know a thing or two about ice cream. If you're still in the mood for that dessert?"

You chuckled, the offer catching you by surprise. "Ice cream actually sounds pretty tempting right about now. Might be just what I need to soothe the sting of another bad first date."

"Well, lucky for you, I don't give a shit if you're a feminist, I still won't make a pretty girl pay for it. That's just stupidity."

The two of you walked into a nearby ice cream parlor, the neon lights creating a warm glow on your skin. As you shared stories over scoops of your favorite flavors, time seemed to slip away. You spent loads of time hearing about Robin and their awful job history, and spent some more dissecting each other's musical tastes, promising the boy that you had more albums up your sleeve that you think he'd be into, too.

After the drag show and the unexpected chance meeting at the restaurant, hanging out with you felt like a natural progression. As you finished your ice cream, Steve looked at you with a grin. "So, now that we've established our mutual fear of bad first dates and love for ice cream, how about we make hanging out a more intentional thing? See if we have even more in common?"

You chuckled, a sparkle in your eyes. "I think I can get behind that idea."

Coming up the elevator just a few minutes later, Steve was feeling lighter than air. He paid no mind to the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in the hallways or the predictable shouting from the neighbors place as he approached his front door. Jangling his keychain to get his key loose from the mess he notices that his Tamagotchi is… gone. It's the first one he's lost prematurely since Robin got the stupid things and he rolls his eyes knowing she's going to eat this up when he tells her in the morning.

Walking into the foyer he notices Robin's shoes and keys on the hook, signaling that she and Alex must be tucked away in her room by now. He honestly doesn't want to hang out with them anyway. He shuffles down the hallway, running his finger along the wall lazily before slipping into his own bedroom. Closing the door behind him and pressing his body up against it, his mind drifts right back to how you looked in the back of that cab.

God, how could one person he's run into a total of three times be wrapping themselves into his conciseness like a vine. Is this the thing Murray was talking about? The whole woman thing? Because you were not like any of the girls he has been taking to the coffee shop and never seeing again. Not like any of the girls who fawned over his megawatt smile and pulled their panties to the side just for the bragging rights. Not like any of the city girls who take take take at the club only to stumble their way home on their friends arms instead at the end of the night.

The thought intimidated the shit out of him. He could make a list as long as his bedsheets why someone like you shouldn't waste their time on Steve Harrington. Far from a King, yet you still made him feel worth your time. Maybe it was all for show, the guy you conned into paying the cab fare too distracted to notice. And you didn't have to try that hard. He was distracted, that's for sure.

At first it was seeing your eyes up close. Bright and sparkling, eyelashes batting with just enough makeup to make you look more beautiful, not to make you beautiful. To make the color of your eyes pop. That was nice, but when you touched his forearm in the back of the cab, your skin soft and smelling of lavender and cedarwood, you filled his senses and made him twitch. And then when you leaned over the table in the ice cream shop to offer him a taste of your peanut butter swirl ice cream, the neckline in your silk top dipped low and showed off just a shadow of what you were hiding under there and he felt his heels tap on the floor to get his mind on something else.

All those distractions were flooding Steve's senses right now, hitting him all at once. He moved away from the doorway and over towards his record player - slipping the only stupid album he wants to play right now out of its sleeve and onto the turntable. Lowering the needle, as the static breaks the air and the first bars of "Ocean" break the silence, he sighs. Leaning over his dresser he looks up at himself in the reflection of his mirror. Murray was fuckin' right. He thinks. He did need to stop being what girls want. He wants to be what you want. What a woman like you even deserves.

Before Steve even knows it the black of his denim is pulled taught over his crotch and he shakes his head "Ah fuck… I… I gotta… " he whispers out to no one in particular as he unhooks the buckle of his belt, button and zipper following quickly behind. Haphazardly, he pulls the undershirt from where it's tucked in around his waist and frees himself, the throwing his head back to the melodies coming from his speakers, the heavy weight of his cock in his hand and thoughts of you running rampant through his mind.

Fuck. He doesn't even know you. Barely. But he can't help but run his thumb across his slit all while thinking about that peek of collarbone you gifted him from across the table, whimpering as he gathers the bead of precum gathered there at his tip. Needing more, and fast, he has no time to rummage through his drawers or run down the hallway to the bathroom to find a bottle of sample lube he snagged from work.

Still leaning over his dresser, arm braced over the top, Steve opens his other hand and brings it up, spitting a large glob into its palm before bringing it back down and around himself, throbbing and angry red with the thought of you. His cool palm finally moving, chasing a relief that he needs more than he knew, he finds himself gasping out your name - the one he learned just hours before - as if you gave him permission.

It feels lewd. Like he's taking advantage of a woman that's too good for him. Even still, he can't help but close his eyes and imagine it's you burrowing between his thighs. Imagine what the wet of your soft mouth might feel like wrapped around him, or the skin of your palms working him up instead. Steve shivers as he thinks about it, thighs tensing underneath himself - the pleasure growing fast and twisting the knot in his stomach taught.

It's only been a few minutes but he quickly sheds his button up and undershirt wiping up the sweat gathering on his chest, his neck, his forehead before throwing it to the ground at his feet. His fist is moving, but he's trying to pace himself, taking a slow breath in followed by a calculated exhale through his nose.

His eyes are squeezed shut and head thrown back, sweat dripping down the gullet of his neck, bared to a woman who isn't there to nip at it. Leave her marks. Christ, they would probably be hot. Bruises right next to red lipstick like the one you wore for your date tonight.

Body tensing, thighs tighten under him making his whole self drive against the dresser. He falls forward, forearm resting on the top of the furniture, forehead coming down to rest on his forearm, hand moving along his worked up cock at a feverish pace. Taking a moment to give himself a squeeze along his shaft, he relishes in the tightened grip, then circles his sensitive head before returning to his bruising pace.

He's chasing that high, gasping out your name, labored breathing and moans Robin and Alex could certainly hear if they weren't up to their own bad deeds in the room next door. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck. Jesus, I wanna give it to you - shit."

The warmth is bubbling over from his belly and down through the base of his dick, vein running up the underside pulsing along with his racing heartbeat. The warmth of more precome dribbles out of his tip, baiting him to keep going - not to let up. When his abs tighten this last time, he slaps the dresser in front of him as ropes of come spurt out, once, twice, three spurts covering his hand and dribbling down his crotch and onto his dark denim.

He hasn't come like that in forever. And all it took was a cab ride with you and imagining your mischievous, bright eyes when he came. Once he gathers himself, he glares into his own eyes through the mirror, running his clean hand through his hair as he still grasps his softening, dripping cock and says go himself "I can not fuck this up."

Divider by @firefly-graphics

🏷️TAGLIST: @livsters @johnricharddeacy @angywritesstuff @k-k0129 @tisthedamnseason69 @middle-of-the-earth @thebrazilianatheist @mochminnie @micheledawn1975 @falling-throughthe-hourglass @rafaaoli @ash5monster01 @gabessock @onyxslayss @katie-tibo

#joe keery #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #robin buckley #sexshop!steve #sexshop!robin #platonic stobin #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley smut #steve and robin get a job #steve and robin 4l #steve and robin fanfic

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captainkirkk · 1 year

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✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Stranger Things

Where the 20 Chain Links Lead by fandsart

Steve has always known he’s stupid. While it wasn’t exactly something he took pride in, it hadn’t really ever bothered him until he started socializing with what could probably be described as some of the smartest people in Hawkins. It doesn’t help that most of those people were so much younger than him.

A character study of one Steve Harrington, and a glacial slowburn Steddie fix-it fic

chat with you, baby (flirt a little, maybe) by desiccatedwithering (acornsofthemind) (+ podfic)

"Hey, shitheads!” Steve “the hair” Harrington barks, looming in the doorway like a monster from the Abyss. “What the fuck are you doing in here? Get your asses down to the gym right fucking now.”

Eddie gapes. First of all, the audacity— Second, he’s never been much for physical fights, but if this douchebag thinks he can bully any of Eddie’s kids, he’ll have to go through Eddie first.

“Let’s go! Move it!” Harrington snaps, making an impatient gesture down the hall.

SVSSS

Achievement Unlocked by The Feels Whale (miscellea)

One day, after five years of reasonably peaceful marriage with only a few kidnappings and sex pollen incidents, Shen Yuan is sent back to his old body without warning. Luo Binghe makes a deal with an alien entity calling itself the System to perform a mission in exchange for the ability to bring his husband home.

The mission is simple; [Uncover secret transmigrator plotline and flesh out the character wiki!]

At least it will be once he figures out what the words ‘transmigrator’ and ‘wiki’ mean.

Or: That one where Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe don’t realize they’re in a domestic fluff bonus chapter.

Written for the 2021 MXTX Big Bang with art created by Ataratah

The Witcher

The Footsteps We Follow by thiswildheart

Look, Jaskier's got a lot going on. He's painfully aware that there are cataclysmic events happening and that the troubled teenager he knows might save the world or speed along the end of days. He's also in love with a man who's never even admitted that they're friends, which is almost as bad.

Oh, and he's still working as the Sandpiper, only now a terrifying eldritch creature has entrusted him with the Song of the Seven to give hope to the elves and help them fight back against their oppression. It's probably the bravest thing he's ever done, but not everyone sees it that way.

Luckily he knows some people who excel at last minute rescues.

... then he just has to figure out how to tell Geralt why so many people are trying to kill him. This is going to go great.

Clone Wars

Every Shadow by Kenobster (kenobster)

The days on Kadavo were long, but the nights moved quickly. Hundreds of pairs of wide, sleepless eyes haunted the space of the holding cells. Droves of terror clogged the heavy, sweaty air, and every sound, however faint, was like a physical ripple across the crowd. Every sound. The jingling of keys, the clicking of locks, the thudding of boots, and that’s how the nights on Kadavo started—with a gradual increase in the degree of quiet.

OR—during the mass casualty event following Kadavo and Zygerria, Obi-Wan and Anakin seek ways to cope with trauma.

Shadowhunters

We All Want (to Change the World) by opalish

It starts with Simon, which explains why the entire process is such an unrelenting headache.

or, Alec's startlingly quick journey from Head of the New York Institute to Inquisitor.

#happy weekend!#once again i need to change this series to fornightly or monthly fic round up because i am Not uploading weekly #but i'm too far into this series at this point #i've got to stick to the tag #my posts #fic recs #stranger things recs #witcher recs #sw recs #shadowhunters recs #svsss recs #weekly fic round up

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acidxinxwonderland · 1 year

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Resurgence

Chapter two: Reconcile

18 plus!

Pairing: Glamrock Freddy x F!Reader

Summary: You live a stressful life to say the least, working two jobs and going to college is no easy task. You find it hard maintaining many things, such as friendships, your home and most importantly yourself. Yet after finding boxes full of parts for an animatronic near a dumpster, you do everything in your power to restore him. Little did you know that he was going to change your life for the better.

Tags: Female Reader, No use of y/n, Size Difference, Size Kink, Robot/Human Relationships, Dominant Glamrock Freddy, Submissive Reader, Touch-Starved, Reader is a hot mess, nicotine addiction, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn-ish, Build a penis, Readers parents have passed away

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: All the chapters aren't going to be words that start with the letter R, I promise LOL. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I've been really trying to improve my writing and I hope it shows :DD

AO3 link

Chapter 1

The pale light of the sun rising filters through your windows, a soft groan escaping your lips as the sound of a blaring alarm clock hits your ears. You blink awake, eyes heavy with sleepiness as you reach your hand over to your bedside table, blindly grasping at the air until you find your phone.

You bring it close to your face, barely able to make anything out through your blurry vision as you turn it off. You reluctantly sit up, fatigue has a complete hold of you, moving your feet off the side of the bed as if you were in slow motion.

You muster the strength to stand up, nearly tripping over your discarded pants from last night while stumbling over to the door. You slowly descend down the stairs, rubbing at your eyes as you go to make a b line for the kitchen yet you stop in place from the smell of food in the air.

That’s right, you have a new buddy.

You see the animatronic bear at the stove with his back turned towards you, the sweet melody of his humming finally hitting your ears. He dwarfs everything around him, practically a giant in your own home yet at this very moment he seemed nothing more than peaceful. The golden rays seeping through the half-closed curtains hit him just right, it was memorizing.

So memorizing you forgot you weren’t wearing any pants for a moment. You look down at yourself, realizing you should probably go upstairs and put something on. Just as you’re about to make your grand escape Freddy looks back at you.

“Superstar!” He exclaims in a cheerful tone, spinning around to face you. “Good morning-” His voice abruptly trails off as his gaze locks onto your lower half. “Oh! You are… You are not wearing pants.”

Heat rises up to your face at a breakneck speed, never have you wanted to run away from your own home until now. You force your lips up into an awkward smile, fingers unconsciously finding their way to scratch the back of your neck.

“S-sorry about that, I totally forgot that you’re here now… Living with me.” You trail off, looking anywhere but his face.

“There is no need to apologize, you are in the comfort of your own home. I’m sure this is a very common practice among you humans.” He was talking as if you were some alien. The absurdity prompts a chuckle to escape from your lips.

“I guess you could say that.” You finally bring your eyes back to him yet his gaze is fixated on your bare legs. You are a bit taken aback, furrowing your brows until chalking it off as just his curiosity, you’re sure he’s never seen someone just wearing underwear before.

His optics finally meet yours, with a small twitch of his ears he hastily turns, reaching for a plate in the cupboard.

“I have made you something called ‘corned beef hash’, I found the can and thought perhaps this would be good enough for breakfast.” He scoops the food onto the plate carefully, facing back towards you, extending the plate with a slightly awkward motion.

You offer him a grateful smile, taking a step forward to take the plate from his hand. “Thank you Freddy, I’m going to eat this upstairs, don’t have much time before my class.”

“Completely understandable, perhaps you should try to get more rest afterwards? It will be beneficial!” He suggests with a hint of concern.

You give a short nod of your head. “Yeah, okay. A short nap, I’ll see you later then!”

With that you part ways with the animatronic bear, feeling both grateful and embarrassed at the same time as you retreat back to your room to begin your class.

During the entire lecture you fought the constant battle of keeping your eyelids from sliding shut, the minutes seemed to stretch on for hours as your focus continued to wane. Yet there was still a strong determination in you, one that made you want to stay on top of your studies. You soldier on with every key-stroke and hurried note taking.

As soon as your class is finished you immediately go back to your bed, as you get underneath the blankets it almost feels like a comforting embrace, easily slipping into the sweet security of sleep. It was as if you blinked, opening your eyes again to feel a sense of rejuvenation. Getting up you prepare yourself for the rest of the day, ensuring that you have pants on this time.

Walking back downstairs with a relaxed look on your face you find Freddy doing a task once again, bending over the coffee table and carefully placing trash into a bag. He looks over at you with kind eyes, straightening himself out.

“Hello! You seem to be feeling much better.” He observes, setting the trash bag near the coffee table.

“Yeah, I am. And it seems like you’ve been keeping yourself busy.” You gesture towards the trash bag, he looks down at it for a moment as if he forgot what he was just doing before replying.

“I sure have! There is much to do here, it is always good to get started as soon as possible.”

“Well thank you. This is… Nice.” Your appreciation was evident in your tone.

“Of course superstar! ‘Nice’ sums it up well. Now, do you have any plans today?”

You let out a small hum of thought, looking off to the side, you had more free time now that Freddy was here albeit not much. You have gotten used to going straight to work on him as soon as you have time spare. You actually had the entire day off now! You could do anything your heart desires, like sitting on the couch and watching some fun movies with a nice beer.

However, once your gaze returns to Freddy, a new and exciting idea pops up in your mind. It has been half a year since you’ve last actually hung out with some old friends.

“I mean… I could take you out to see one of my friends?” You suggest, watching Freddy’s curiosity pique.

He tilts his head to the side. “A friend? That sounds quite fun!”

“Hell yeah it does, the look on his face when he sees you…” You chuckle to yourself at the thought.

One of your best friends, Aidan, thought that re-building Freddy would be impossible, he droned on and on about it the entire way back home when you first found him. You told yourself during that very moment you were going to prove him wrong and rub it in your face. Here is your opportunity.

“Let’s get going then.” You declare with a mischievous glint in your eyes, making your way to the door and grabbing your keys from the hook on the wall.

“We’re going now?” Freddy’s tone was quizzical as he follows after you. “What about lunch? It is almost 2 PM.”

“Lunch can wait big guy.” You open the door, leading him towards your van parked in your driveway.

You pause once the heavy steps behind you come to a halt. You turn to find him gazing upwards, captivated by the beauty of the world.

“This is…” He trails off while staring up at the expanse of the clear blue sky adorned with fluffy white clouds.

You feel your heart flutter from the sight, a warmth rushing throughout your body. “It’s a lot different during the day, huh?”

Freddy brings his attention back down to you, nodding his head. “Yes it truly is. It is all so… Marvelous.” He was silent for a brief moment afterwards and you can hear the sounds of his gears inside of him becoming faster as if he was trying to process it all. “I apologize, let us get a move on, shall we?”

“There’s no need to be sorry, soak it all in. It’s um… It’s nice, seeing you experience this stuff.” You feel a bit awkward to admit it as you continue the walk over to your van.

“Is that so? Well I’m glad to hear it.” He lets out a mechanicalized hum, a twinge of amusement in his tone.

With a brisk nod, you open the door to the passengers side. Your van was sizable, and though you’re aware fitting him inside might prove a challenge, you are undeterred. He halts for a moment, eyes sweeping across the interior of your vehicle. Eventually, he eases himself inside with cautious movements. The door clicks shut as you round the van, claiming your seat on the driver's side.

Having Freddy inside causes the space to be quite snug, you could work with it though. You slide your seatbelt across your body, securing it with the sound of a click. Freddy attempts to copy you but alas his torso was too large to put it on, his ear twitches at that fact, looking at you for guidance.

A chuckle escapes your lips as you initiate the ignition, the engine’s hum filling the space of the van. “Don’t worry about it,” you assure him. “It’s a short drive.” The challenge now shifts to avoiding any encounters with law enforcement; you had no idea how a police officer would react to an animatronic bear riding shotgun. Despite your research to ensure there were no legal repercussions for repairing him, the sight of Freddy might be a bit unsettling for anyone to see at the moment.

Freddy’s curiosity is piqued the moment the van’s engine roars to life, blue eyes flitting from one detail to another with wonderment behind his gaze. You observe his fingers dancing over the vents before him, opening it and closing it only to flinch once the cool air of the AC kicks in.

“Motor vehicles are quite interesting.” He muses, his attention shifting to a button on the dashboard. With a press, loud music floods in through the speakers, once again startling the bear. Your laughter rings out, quickly turning the music down to make it more bearable for him.

“Careful there, you’re going to hit the eject button.” You playfully quip, a grin lighting up your features as you press down on the gas and drive down your winding gravel driveway.

“An… An eject button? As in one that will kick me out of the motor vehicle?” There was genuine concern in both his face and words, seeking clarification from you.

Suppressing a laugh, you meet his gaze with a mischievous glint in your eyes, pulling out onto the road. “Nah, not really.” A widening grin forms on your lips from the satisfaction of tricking him. “Can’t believe you fell for that.”

Freddy lets out a simulated huff, his gaze shifting to the window beside him. “Well, forgive me for believing in the information my supposed guide to the outside world provides.” He retorts, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness.

You let out an amused chuckle, glancing his way. “Touché Freddy. But rest assured, I promise not to send you flying out of my truck.”

“Good to know, as I’d prefer to stay grounded.”

With that the two of you fell silent as the miles rolled by, Freddy’s eyes were glued to the passing scenery going by as soft music played in the background while you puffed on the end of a cigarette. It was peaceful, a moment you didn’t want to end, there was no better company than with another you can sit in comfortable silence in.

Yet before you know it you are pulling into the driveway of your friend's home. Now that you are here you feel a nervousness bubbling up from your stomach to your throat, you didn’t even tell him about your arrival, not to mention the fact you barely even spoke to him in quite a long time. You stay in place staring at the front door, feeling the need to pull out and drive away.

“Superstar?” Freddy pulls you from your racing thoughts, as soon as your eyes meet his kind ones you feel that heavy weight dissipating.

“Sorry.” You murmur, unbuckling your seatbelt and shutting off the engine. “I should probably warn you he might be a bit… Shocked seeing you.”

“Shocked? Isn’t he aware you repaired me?” He held a quizzical tone.

“Um well… No, he has no idea we’re coming to visit. If it wasn’t obvious by my last minute decision to visit him.” You give the bear a sheepish smile, scratching at the back of your neck.

“Oh I see well that will be no problem! I am known for being quite lovable to children and grown adults alike.”

“That’s very true, let’s get in there and show him how cool you are.” You open the door and Freddy follows suit, getting out of the van together and making your way up to the door.

You steel your nerves, a determined look coming across your face as you knock on the door. You take a step back, taking in a slow deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart. You watch as the door knob is turned, swinging open to reveal none other than one of your closet friends. A tall, young man with disheveled brown hair and dull green eyes.

He was taken aback by your sudden arrival, although when his gaze finally landed upon Freddy his eyes widened like saucers. “Oh… Oh my god.” He sputters out, looking back and forth between the two of you.

The anxiety you once had was replaced by sheer giddiness, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “That’s fucking right, I rebuilt him, me. And who said I couldn’t huh?”

There was clear defeat on his expression, giving a roll of his eyes. “I said you couldn’t… Me…”

Freddy lets out a short chuckle, taking a step forward. “Although I do not appreciate the foul language, I am proud to say that I am in tip top condition.” He extends his large paw-like hand towards Aidan with a kind look in his eyes. “I am Freddy Fazbear, it is nice to meet you.”

Aidan stares up at him, memorized by the giant animatronic bear as he shakes his hand. “Yeah, I know who you are. I’m Aidan. I… I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I can’t believe it either, or that I was even offline in the first place.” Freddy looks over at you, underlying affection in his gaze. “Yet you didn’t give up on me once, did you?”

You feel heat rise up to your cheeks. “I sure didn’t.”

“Of course you didn’t, because you are a wonderful friend.” Freddy’s sweet words make your cheeks only grow darker in color.

“Wonderful friend, huh?” Aidan raises a brow, his eyes zoning in on you. “Yeah, we can go with that.” He turns around, gesturing for the two of you to follow.

“Do you not agree?” Freddy asks, entering his home that was much cleaner compared to yours.

“Well… She has her moments.” Aidan shrugs his shoulders as you all go into the living room. “But there are times where I barely hear a word from her, like the past six months.”

You feel a twinge of guilt in your heart, your expression faltering. “I know… I’m sorry Aidan I-”

“It’s fine.” He cuts you off, although it doesn’t feel fine. “Let’s not argue over this right now, not in front of Freddy. We can talk about it another time, with Eve and Nicole.”

You shift your weight from one side to the other, what were you thinking? Showing up unannounced like this after barely speaking to your best friends. It was inconsiderate of you and you hate the fact you’re realizing that now. You look up at Freddy, who can clearly tell the thick tension in the room.

“If you two need to talk about your problems, I have no issue with it.” The bear finally says, looking back at you with a soft expression. “I can wait in another room if need be. Communication is always important when it comes to a healthy friendship.”

Aidan is silent for a moment before a sigh falls from his lips. “No, no. There’s no need, I was being a dick.” He offers you a smile, settling down onto his large L-shaped couch and patting the spot besides him. “It can be hard to remind myself that you’re working through some things honestly. I just miss you, you know?”

You return the smile, one with gratitude. You sit next to him, feeling a sense of relief as you lean back into the familiar couch. “I miss you too, and I am really sorry. I’m the dick here, and I would like to talk about it, with all four of us together. You’re allowed to be as angry as you want.”

“I do feel… A bit mad.” Aidan says truthfully. “But not as much as when I finally saw you again.” He reaches his hand out to touch your shoulder, as your muscles tense together he stops himself, letting it fall back besides him.

You let out a small, shaky sigh. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“Look at that!” Freddy chimes in. “You both handled that situation wonderfully, I am quite impressed.”

“Thanks Freddy.” Aidan’s grin widened with amusement. "It’s nice to actually have you here. Although… It is a bit weird.”

“I understand, it is ‘weird’ for me too. Not being in the Mega Pizzaplex… It is liberating yet strange all at once.” His eyes look around the room before falling back on to the two of you. “Now that we have that settled, would you like me to make you both something to eat?”

“Oh, um…” Aidan seems surprised by the kind gesture, shaking his head. “There’s no need. If anything, I kinda just want to get to know you.”

“Get to know me?” Freddy repeats. “That is kind of you, although I do not know how interesting it would be for you.”

“Psh, nonsense. You are literally a giant animatronic bear, what is there not to be interested in? Come on, take a seat Fredster.” He gestures towards the L-shape of the couch.

Freddy nods his head, although he almost seems cautious as he takes a seat, did Aidan throw him off by saying he wanted to get to know him? Although once the three of you began to engage in conversation you observed his easing tension.

You all spent a good amount of time conversing with one another, explaining to Aidan what happened when you brought Freddy back online and how he doesn’t remember what happened before the Mega Pizzaplex’s collapse. Before you know it the sun is beginning to set, you say your goodbyes to your dear friend, feeling a sense of relief that you were able to break the barrier and see him once again.

Taking the short journey back home the two of you enjoy the sky painted with hues of orange and gold, a serene conclusion to your day out with Freddy. Yet once you bring the van to a halt at a stop sign another vehicle pulls up beside you. Nervousness immediately courses through you, only to be amplified upon seeing the driver’s shocked expression. The driver raises his phone and you instinctively shield your face in an attempt to hide your identity.

The instant the stoplight switches to green, you take a left turn down the road. Your anxiety begins to spiral, clutching onto the steering wheel.

“Did that man just take a photo of me?” He inquires.

“Yeah, he sure did.” You let out a sigh. “Just what I needed.” It’s only your second day with Freddy, and already it feels like you’ve screwed things up.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Freddy’s curiosity laces his question.

“Well, I mean, kinda. I wasn’t really ready for people to know you’re back yet.” Your heart sinks to your stomach from the thought of unwanted attention..

“I understand that you wanted to wait on something like this, but perhaps it would be better to ‘rip the bandaid off’, as they say. Besides, you hid your face, correct?” His logic brings you a smidgen of comfort.

You give a nod of your head. “Yeah… I did.”

“That means that they only know that I am back, there is nothing linked to you yet.”

He wasn’t wrong, yet your heart still aches with the burden of the situation. You had to be more careful, just for a bit longer. You know Freddy doesn’t deserve being locked away inside of your home like some house cat, that wasn’t fair to him, even if he didn’t really care, you do.

“You’re right Freddy. Thanks.”

“Of course superstar, I assure you, everything will work out one way or another.”

The two of you drive back home in silence, you try your best to remind yourself that it was going to be okay but there was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. The path ahead is uncertain, yet you try your best to hold onto the hope of everything being okay.

#glamrock freddy #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #freddy fazbear #Glamrock Freddy x Reader #reader #fnaf fanfic #female reader #Resurgence

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