#present in a different way in later shows to be sure. all kinds of ways of being Very Dynamic & god bless the fuck out of all of us for it

[koalayoo]

ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ, ʙᴏʏ

michael kaiser x gn!reader

content: pure fluff for the most part, soft! bf kaiser, reference to his backstory, kind of cocky, better than my last fic for sure

author's note: wanted to write a good christmasy bday fic for him. bit late, apologies. not really proofread or beta'd. apologies again.

wc. 1.3k

Kaiser had never celebrated Christmas.

Christmas was also his birthday.

That means Kaiser has never celebrated his birthday.

This was what had become apparent to you in your relationship with Kaiser, when all the walls between you two had become bulldozed and you realised, yeah, this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You had come to understand that with Kaiser’s upbringing and all that he would have probably never received a gift from his father. You wonder if at that age he knew what Christmas was.

Then you started tumbling head-first into a hole of unanswered questions. What would he have even done for his birthday? Was anyone there to ever celebrate with him? You knew how bad he had it growing up, you regrettably knew. Part of you wished you didn’t know how bad it was, hoped that sometimes his father grew to be lenient or that maybe the old women in town that would see him around knew his name. Knew him to be more than Michael “professional neighbour thief” Kaiser and instead as the kid he was. That was just wishful thinking though.

He had received gifts, which was expected. He was a pro athlete but he also had Ness from the age of 15 who had most definitely gifted him something you assumed but weren’t privy to the details. However, he hadn’t celebrated. Hadn’t experienced true Christmas joy. He doesn’t know the feeling of waking up early and ripping open the wrapping paper on specially curated gifts that sit under the tree you both decorated together. Hasn’t felt what it’s like making cookies with the radios ruffled Christmas carols sputtering in the background. Wearing matching sweaters while watching stupidly predictable themed rom coms. Making a wreath to put on the front door. Kissing under the mistletoe. Ughhh, there was so much you needed to show him.

So, you did just that.

As soon as December started, you did your utmost best to get him into the festive spirit.

On the 1st, you brought home a tree and excitedly decorated it with Kaiser. Putting various coloured ornaments on, some the typical solid coloured balls, others with stripes and patterns, differing sizes, differing shapes. Then, Kaiser had placed you on his shoulders so that you could place the star on the tippity top despite your insistence it be him.

On the 5th, you went shopping with two very important things in mind. A wreath, and some ugly sweaters. On the way you slipped in some ingredients for cookies too.

On the 14th, you had started wrapping some presents. You had both agreed 3 presents was a good amount to give one another but you couldn’t help but feel a gnaw at the back of your head. It was also his birthday, you just had to double it.

On the 17th, you had put the wreath up which welcomed him home from a long day at practice.

On the 22nd, you had finally worn the sweaters which you had taken a polaroid of before promptly taking them off, sweltering from the heat of the oven that was baking the cookies you both had put hours into making. Later that night, bad christmas movie #1 was watched.

The 23rd and 24th followed a similar routine. Jam out to a different song before you got sick of it and watch another bad christmas movie. 

Then, it was the day.

All the extra presents you hid from him were placed under the tree and you made hot cocoa for two. You had to work quickly, Kaiser was used to waking up at the odd early hours of the morning and there was no doubt he would feel you missing next to him.

Soon, he had stumbled down the stairs and was greeted with you wrapping a blanket around him. You had pulled him down onto the floor and planted a present in front of him, a chaste kiss pressed against his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, handsome.” You whispered softly into the air.

He had begun to wake up more and noticed the excessive amount of presents under the tree. He looked at the presents, then at you, and an eyebrow raised comically.

“And, Merry Christmas too, I guess…” You playfully rolled your eyes with a small smile appearing on your face. “Although that one’s of lesser importance.”

He sighs although he can’t help the small upwards tilt of his lips. “Thought we agreed on 3 each?” “Yeah, but it’s your birthday too! I wasn’t gonna be one of those people, ya know? The ones who just say the Christmas presents are also their birthday presents. You deserve to be celebrated twice.” 

“Yeah but-” And you briefly cut him off because if there was one thing you knew about Kaiser which was wrapped behind layers just like the presents was this feeling of foreboding. That he didn’t deserve this. However, your job as his brilliant partner was to teach him to sit there and take it.

So you started to celebrate, taking turns ripping the presents you both put love and care into wrapping. For every 2 gifts Kaiser opened, you opened one of yours in tandem. You giggled seeing him get you exactly what you wanted and teased him when a small blush appeared on his face when he got the same.

Although, there was one last present you wanted to give him.

A house full of love.

You wanted him to learn this holiday season that you were truly never leaving. Not like his mother, or even his begrudging father. That you were full of love for him and everything that came with choosing him. The arguments, the boundaries, the fear; you couldn’t fix it but you could help and that’s the sentiment you hoped to get across.

Later that day when you finished putting your gifts away and throwing the egregious amount of wrapping paper, you enter the living room to see Kaiser plotting. 

Before you can fully enter he spits out, “Stay right there.” You murmur in acknowledgement and stay put, eyes trailing the figure that is walking towards you suspiciously, one hand placed firmly behind him. You shoot him a questioning look to which he shakes his head, not budging.

“Should invite Ness over.” 

“Why would we do that?” He questions. “Fine with just me and you here, no?”

“Season of forgiveness, champ. Do I need to teach you how to be a good friend too?”

He’s stalked all the way over to you now. He towers above you and the hand he isn’t hiding comes to hold the top of the frame, leaning down towards you. His shirt lifts a little. You look. Then you look back at your boyfriend who has leaned in even closer.

His nose nudges against yours and you knew this was one of his ways of trying to assert dominance with the way a small brazen smirk made its way to his face. Could this guy try not to be a dick for one day? You notice the way his lips brush against yours slightly and you sigh, trying not to be pulled in.

“Answer?”

“Mmm, I’ll think about it?” He chuckles and leans in to swoop your lips against his in a passionate kiss. It didn’t last long because his smile broke the seal between you two apart. His eyes have a gleam in them and they flick up causing you to do the same.

Oh. 

A mistletoe.

“When did you learn about this one?” You whisper softly, genuinely curious.

“I had a tough childhood, doesn’t mean I lived under a rock.” He laughs again, this time more joyfully. You’re not sure whether it’s the fact that he successfully tricked you or that you truly rendered him this clueless.

Then, there’s a knock at the door. You see the sliver of magenta hair through the window panels near the door before you hear him.

Oh.

Maybe Kaiser doesn’t need you to guide him after all.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Title is from December by Ariana Grande. Thanks for reading!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

throwback to 2019's 12th annual joe iconis christmas extravaganza being the first time i was aware of the show ft. my interest already piqued via now nonzero familiarity with joe iconis &/or will roland & (almost, b/c of youtube videos) no familiarity with the xmas show in particular Yet but certainly open to it in post-bmc malaise, which it did help plenty with....& i think it was on twitter a clip of This Moment in the mister chestnut's christmas medley sequence that i remember being very struck & delighted by. the combination of the urgently energetic choreography of this classic Chestnut Jenny Macabee stack & the distinctive wailing AAAAA harmonizing speaking to me powerfully & now here we are today, what a treasure

[hoshifighting]

rockstar!reader x church boy & bestfriend!joshua

— Synopsis: Joshua and you had this contrast, you too embedded in the electric guitars, the polemic rock band shirts, and Joshua deeply focused on taking care of the church activities. He has no idea of the after-parties of your concerts, but after so much insistence of him, you bring Joshua to meet your wildest side, the side you never let him meet before. — Genre: Best friends to Lovers — WC: 11.05k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, slight angst, groupies showing tits references, alcohol, smoking and drug references, religious imagery—mention of a cross necklace, faith-based inner conflict. penetrative sex, rough sex, public make out, fingering, nipple play—reader have nipple piercings, face-slapping, mentions of boy fluids; cum/precum, cock riding, clit stimulation, dirty talk, post-sex care.

The neighborhood kids were a patchwork of personalities—there were the loud ones, the shy ones, the troublemakers, the saints. And then, there was you and Joshua. From the outside, it made no sense. You, the devil-may-care rebel with ripped jeans, always two seconds away from an argument with someone who couldn’t handle your attitude.

And Joshua, with his pristine shirts buttoned all the way up, soft-spoken voice, and the kind of calm that came from growing up in a house where every wall had a cross and every Sunday had a sermon. He was the kid who never missed a single morning of church, and you were the kid who never missed a single rehearsal with your rock band, banging out chords in your parents’ garage so loud the neighbors had to invest in better windows.

But here’s the thing: despite everything that set you apart, you were inseparable. You’d been friends since you were both knee-high, back when you didn’t even care about music or God or any of the other big things that defined you later. Joshua was the kid you trusted with everything. The one who’d patch up your scraped knees when you wiped out on your bike, even if you yelled at him for fussing too much. The one who never let you feel alone, even when the world felt like it was coming down around you.

You’d look at him sometimes—like now, when you two were sitting on the curb outside your house, him in one of those stiff, white shirts with the collar high enough to strangle someone, and you in your old, faded Black Sabbath tee—and wonder how the hell this worked.

“I don’t get why you always button that thing up like that,” you mutter, side-eyeing him as you light a cigarette.

Joshua looks over, raising a brow. “You sound like my mom,” he says, smirking. “Besides, it’s comfortable.”

“No way. You look like you’re ready to choke.”

“Yeah, well, you look like you’re ready to summon a demon or something in that shirt,” he fires back, glancing at the witch printed on the front of your tee. “You couldn’t find something uglier?”

You snort, blowing out a puff of smoke. “You’re just mad ‘cause you know Sabbath’s better than that crap you play.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “Hey, I like Coldplay, alright? Not everything’s gotta be power chords and screaming.”

“I don’t scream,” you retort, half grinning.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Do not.”

“You screamed at the last gig.”

“That was—” You pause. “That was for effect.”

Joshua chuckles, shaking his head. “Sure. For ‘effect.’”

The thing is, Joshua could have roasted you to dust if he wanted to. But he never did. He’d always laugh it off, always find a way to turn the conversation into something lighter. And no matter how different you were, there was this unspoken respect between you. Like how he showed up to your gigs in high school wearing one of your band’s shirts, plastering flyers in the school hallways and sneaking some into the church bulletin board when no one was looking. 

And how you showed up at his baptism, cross necklace and all, standing there in the back, quiet but present. You never took the necklace off after that. The church boy who wouldn’t dare wear anything less than holy had given you a symbol of his faith, and you’d worn it ever since. You believed but weren't dedicated to it like Joshua, you used it because it was from him.

Joshua notices it now, the silver cross resting against your chest, slightly crooked. He reaches out, straightening it with a soft smile. “You still wear this?”

“Never took it off,” you admit, taking a long drag of your cigarette. “Doesn’t mean I’m converting, though.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he replies, leaning back on his palms. “I like that you wear it.”

You glance at him, a little surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Joshua says, turning his gaze toward the sunset dipping below the houses. “It’s…nice, y’know? Like, no matter how far apart we get, we’re still connected.”

“Connected, huh?” you murmur, tapping the cigarette ash onto the ground. “You’re getting sappy again, dude.”

He laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Shut up. You like it.”

“Yeah, but your world’s so boring, Josh. All hymns and Jesus. You should come to the dark side more often.”

“Pass,” he says with a smirk, but there’s warmth behind it. “I’d rather keep watching you make it big as a rockstar. Somebody’s gotta pray for you when you’re out there corrupting the youth.”

Maybe that’s the thing about you and Joshua—no matter how much you rag on each other, how different your lives look on the surface, there’s a connection you can’t explain. You’re fire and he’s ice, but somehow, you keep each other balanced.

“Hey,” you say, suddenly serious, eyes fixed on the street ahead. “Thanks for, y’know…showing up. For all of it. I know I’m not the easiest person to be around.”

Joshua’s voice softens. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ve always been there for me too.”

You glance at him, your heart doing this weird flip in your chest. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” you tease, though the words come out gentler than you intended.

Joshua grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Too late.”

You take another drag, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence, the kind only years of friendship can create. 

You weren’t trying to change him, and he wasn’t trying to save you.

The gossipy aunts on the block could speculate all they wanted—Joshua didn’t convert you, and no, you didn’t lead Joshua down some reckless path. You two were just… you. 

He’d brought you to church bazaars, where the smell of fried dough and barbecue sauce clung to your clothes long after you’d left, but he’d never pushed you to step foot into one of the more serious services. The ones where the hymns stretched on forever and people lost themselves in prayer. You didn’t do that, and he never asked you to.

And you? Well, you dragged Joshua to your gigs. He always stood at the front, close enough to feel the vibrations from the speakers, his clean-cut figure looking hilariously out of place in the sea of ripped jeans, leather jackets, and band tees.

But no matter how much he begged—and he did beg—you never brought him to the after-parties. The kind of chaos that erupted once the amps were off and the guitars were packed up. You’d drive him home, drop him off with a playful slap on the back, and head to the wildness he’d never see.

He didn’t need to know about the after-parties. He didn’t need to see you in your shortest leather mini skirt, the one that barely passed as clothing, as you downed beer after beer straight from the bottle, while the groupies flashed their tits at the band.

Joshua didn’t need to witness the wild shit that happened when everyone was too drunk or high to care about who was screwing who in the corner or the endless river of alcohol. That wasn’t his world, and you didn’t want him to see you like that. It was one thing for him to come to your shows, but seeing you let loose in a way that would make even your bandmates blush? No. He didn’t belong there.

Except… now Joshua was sitting with you in your garage, tuning your guitar like he always did before a big show, and he’d overheard you talking about the after-party.

“It’s the ten-year gig, huh?” he said casually, fingers sliding over the strings, adjusting them with that stupid focus he always had. “Big deal.”

“Yeah,” you replied, not thinking much of it. “It’s gonna be insane.”

Joshua’s head tilted, his lips pursing slightly. You recognized that look. It was the one he got when he was curious about something, when he was too polite to ask outright but dying to know more. He glanced at you. “You doing anything after? Like, after the gig?”

You paused. Shit. You hadn’t expected him to actually ask about that part. “Uh… yeah. There’s an after-party,” you said slowly, not looking at him. You fiddled with one of the tuning pegs on your bass, trying to look busy. “Same old stuff. You know.”

“I don’t know,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’ve never let me go to one.”

You glanced up at him, already feeling your cheeks heat up. “That’s ‘cause it’s not your scene, Josh.”

“I want to see it,” he said, leaning forward a little. His voice was soft, but there was a determination there you weren’t used to. He wasn’t backing down from this one. “I’ve seen you perform. Why not let me see the rest?”

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna see the rest.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow, studying you. “Why not?”

Why not? Why not? How were you supposed to explain this without getting even more flustered? You could feel your palms sweating just thinking about it. The thought of Joshua witnessing that version of you—messy, no filter—made your stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“It’s just… different, okay?” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. “Like, the crowd’s wilder. Things get… crazy. I’m not the same up there as I am here.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. “I’ve known you since we were in diapers, and you think I can’t handle ‘crazy’?”

“You’re not getting it,” you insisted, your voice a little sharper than you meant it to be. “This isn’t just a few beers and hanging out. People get wild, Josh. There’s stuff that happens that you probably don’t want to see. Hell, I don’t want you to see it.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. “Maybe I do.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he serious right now? Joshua, the guy who got anxious if someone said a cuss word too loud around him, was asking to see the madness that was your after-party?

“Why the hell would you want to see that?” you finally asked, genuinely confused.

“Because,” he said simply, leaning forward on his knees, “I’ve always seen one side of you. The side you let me see. I wanna see the whole picture. I want to know who you are when you’re up there, when you’re with your band, when you’re… being yourself.”

You felt your heart thud hard against your chest. Shit. This wasn’t just about the party, was it? He wanted to understand you. All of you.

“I don’t know, man…” You trailed off, looking anywhere but at him. 

“I can handle it,” Joshua said, voice gentle. “I’m not a kid. I know what goes on. Just because I don’t live like that doesn’t mean I can’t handle seeing it.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. He was stubborn, and you knew he wouldn’t let this go easily.

“Alright,” you finally said, sighing. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Joshua smiled, wide and a little too innocent. “I’ll take my chances.”

[...]

The van sat parked in front of your house, baking in the morning sun, loaded with amps, guitars, and a drum kit that had seen better days. You were supervising the guys hauling the last of the equipment into the back, hair still wrapped in rollers, trying not to sweat through your shirt before you even made it to the venue.

And then, you saw him.

Joshua was walking up the driveway, and for a split second, you didn’t recognize him. The button-up shirt, the clean-cut image you were so used to—it was all gone. Instead, he was wearing one of your shirts, and not just any shirt. 

It was from your solo album outside the band, the one with the wild, scrawling letters across the chest and the cover art below. The cover art that featured your bust, as your tits were covered by an electric guitar. Skin covered in smeared kiss marks, lips of all colors pressed against your skin in a way that had been raunchy enough to make your bandmates whistle when you first showed them.

The album cover had been controversial, to say the least, but it sold like hotcakes. And Joshua—Joshua—was strutting around in it like it was no big deal.

You almost choked on your own spit.

He had black jeans on, hugging his legs in a way you didn’t expect, and he’d thrown on a couple of leather bracelets that looked suspiciously like the ones you’d worn on stage a few times. And the sunglasses perched on his head? Definitely not his usual vibe. He looked like someone who belonged backstage, maybe even on stage, and not at some church picnic. Worse—he looked like the kind of guy you could moan just from looking at.

Your brain short-circuited. You could already imagine the girls from your staff catching sight of him and drooling. Hell, you were almost drooling.

But then you caught sight of that shirt again, and all you could think was, out of all the merch I’ve got, why the fuck did he pick that one?

“Josh…” you called out, your voice full of disbelief as he approached. You gestured at the shirt. “Did… did your parents see you before you left?”

Joshua burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? No way. My mom would’ve had a heart attack. I snuck out before they were even awake.”

You groaned, clapping your forehead. “Oh my God. You realize you’re walking around with a picture of my tits on your chest, right?”

He grinned, glancing down at the shirt like it hadn’t even occurred to him. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s bold, right?”

“Bold?” you repeated, eyes wide. “It’s fucking obscene! You wearing that is obscene. Jesus, I can already hear the aunties in the neighborhood clutching their pearls.”

Joshua shrugged, completely unfazed. “Relax. No one from church is gonna be at the venue. I’m good.”

You gave him a hard look, still half in disbelief. “I’m not worried about church people, I’m worried about all the other people.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, you don’t think I can pull it off?”

You blinked. Was he pulling it off? The more you stared at him, the more your brain started to fry. You didn’t know how to process this new Joshua—the one standing in front of you like he’d been born to wear that shirt. Born to make you lose your goddamn mind.

Joshua noticed your silence and raised an eyebrow. “What? You embarrassed?”

“I—no!” you shot back, though your cheeks were burning. “It’s just… fuck, you couldn’t pick a more normal one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, flashing a grin that was a little too cocky for your liking.

“I can already see the crew girls drooling over you.”

Joshua shrugged, completely unfazed. “Let ‘em drool.”

You had to laugh at that.

“You know what? Never mind,” you muttered, waving him off. “Let’s just get to the venue before I lose it.”

Joshua chuckled and followed you to the van, casually tossing his sunglasses onto the dashboard as he climbed into the passenger seat. You took one last glance at him before slamming the door shut. He was leaning back, arms crossed, looking totally at ease in a way that was both infuriating and… kind of hot. Shit.

You could feel Joshua’s presence next to you, his knee brushing yours whenever you hit a bump. It was distracting as hell, but you did your best to focus on the road, on the gig, on anything that wasn’t Joshua in that damn shirt.

The ride was filled with the usual chaos—your drummer tapping out beats on the seat in front of him, your guitarist tweaking pedal settings on the floor, and the bass player scrolling through social media, barely paying attention. Joshua sat next to you, quiet, but you could tell he was absorbing everything. The energy, the vibe. This was the part of your life he’d never seen before.

When you finally pulled up to the venue, you felt the familiar buzz of expectation in your chest. The stage crew was already setting up, speakers being wired in, lights being tested. You hopped out of the van, gesturing to the others to get moving.

Joshua followed close behind, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. The venue was bigger than the high school stages he was used to seeing you on. It was packed with people running back and forth, instruments being tuned, sound checks echoing in the air.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the stage. “This is...bigger than I expected.”

“Told ‘ya,” you said, grinning as you grabbed your bass and slung it over your shoulder. “Welcome to the real deal.”

Joshua nodded, clearly impressed. You could see the awe in his face, and a part of you felt proud that he was seeing this side of your world. The chaos, the noise, the energy. It was all part of the life you lived—the one he’d never been fully exposed to.

As the band started running through sound check, Joshua found a spot near the back, watching quietly, tapping his foot along with the beat. Every once in a while, you’d glance back at him, half-expecting to see him overwhelmed, but he wasn’t. He was nodding along, sunglasses now perched on his nose, looking like he fit right in.

You could hear the low murmur of the crowd outside, getting louder as more people settled into their seats. Joshua was still talking with Rob, your drummer, which gave you just enough time to pull the rollers out of your hair and finish your makeup in front of the cracked mirror in the dressing room. You rushed through it, swiping on your signature dark lipstick, when the door creaked open, and in walked Joshua.

Of course.

He stopped mid-stride, eyes darting around the room, then finally landing on you—and your outfit. You were wearing a black, lacy top that was just sheer enough to leave little to the imagination, especially when it came to the piercing you knew he had seen before. You’d never made a big deal out of it, but every time Joshua caught a glimpse, he’d get that uncomfortable look on his face, like he wasn’t supposed to be seeing something so private.

“Eyes, Joshua. Eyes,” you could almost hear him coaching himself. His gaze flickered up to your face, but it was too late—you’d caught the quick dip to your chest, to the black leather pants hugging your hips like a second skin.

“Uh, hey,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, clearly trying to act casual, but his voice came out rougher than usual. “I was, uh… just letting you know I should probably get to my seat. The crowd’s filling in.”

You smirked, finishing the last swipe of lipstick and tossing the tube onto the makeup table. “Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and adjusting the top slightly. “You’re not sitting in the crowd anyway.”

“What?” His brows furrowed in confusion, still trying hard to maintain eye contact, which was almost comical at this point.

“You coming up for the encore,” you explained, crossing your arms. “VIP section, side-stage. Didn’t I tell you?”

Joshua blinked. “No. You didn’t mention that.”

You grinned, seeing how flustered he was, and it only made you want to push him further. “Guess I forgot.” You winked, loving the way his mouth opened slightly, the words stuck in his throat. “Go get settled. We’ll call you up when it’s time.”

He mumbled something under his breath and awkwardly nodded, backing out of the room with a half-hearted wave. As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a breath, grinning to yourself. Good luck keeping your eyes up there, church boy.

[...]

By the time you hit the stage, the crowd was electric. You could feel the vibration in your bones, the pulse of the drums and bass weaving through your body. The lights were blinding, sweat already starting to drip down your back within the first few songs. You scanned the crowd, catching sight of Joshua standing where you told him, off to the side, eyes glued to you like he’d never seen you before.

Maybe he hadn’t.

You weren’t just some girl with a guitar tonight. You were in it, the music flowing through your veins, your hands sliding over the neck of the guitar like they were made for it. The band was tight, every note hitting harder than the last, and you felt alive in a way you couldn’t describe. The crowd roared, hands reaching out as your bandmates, already stripped of their shirts, threw them into the audience like trophies.

Joshua’s eyes were wide, watching the sweat drip down your arms as your muscles flexed with every chord change. You were lost in it, mouth slightly open during one of your solos, head thrown back as you pulled the guitar into your body like it was an extension of you. You could feel his gaze, heavy and unblinking, and it only pushed you harder. You let your voice growl into the mic, letting out the kind of raw, strong energy that got you here in the first place.

His mind must’ve been racing. He’d seen you play before, but never like this. Never with this much heat, this much intensity. You weren’t just a rockstar tonight—you were a sex symbol, and every single person in that venue, including Joshua, could feel it.

It hit him then—this was why you didn’t want him to come to the after-parties. It wasn’t just about the chaos or the booze. It was because, in this space, on stage, with the lights and the music and the crowd screaming your name—you were untouchable. And so, so fucking hot.

He’d always known you were beautiful, but this? This was something else. Watching your body move in rhythm with the music, the way your fingers slid across the strings, the sweat glistening on your skin—fuck. Joshua couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every part of you was dripping with confidence, sexuality.

The crowd erupted as you launched into the final solo, the room swelling with the sound of your guitar. Joshua’s gaze lingered on your body, on the way your leather pants clung to every curve, on the sway of your hips as you moved, and on your lips, slightly parted as you leaned into the mic. He swallowed hard, heat rushing to his face as he watched your muscles tense and release, every move planned, every note flawless.

His thoughts ran wild, and as you finished the set, throwing your head back in a final roar of victory, he couldn’t help but think, So this is what she didn’t want me to see.

The show ended in a blur of cheers and flashing lights, the energy still pulsing in your veins as you stumbled off stage, half-drunk on adrenaline. When you spotted Joshua at the back of the room, standing there with that wide-eyed look of disbelief, you couldn't help but laugh.

You walked over to him, sweat still glistening on your skin, a tired but satisfied grin on your face. “Well?” you asked, chest heaving. “What’d you think?”

Joshua blinked, forcing his gaze up from the floor to meet yours. He swallowed thickly, that guilty knot tightening in his throat. “It was… amazing,” he admitted, his voice a little hoarse. “You were—fuck, you’re incredible up there.”

His compliment was genuine, but there was something else in his eyes. Something conflicted, like he wasn’t sure how to feel about what he’d just seen. His best friend—the girl he’d known since forever—looked like this. Played like that. He felt sick about it. Sick because his heart was pounding for all the wrong reasons. Sick because seeing you like that—half-wild, sweaty, powerful—it wasn’t just admiration anymore.

You grinned, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Told you it was a rush.”

Before he could respond, the two of you heard the unmistakable sound of feet pounding the floor. Fans. A whole wave of them was running toward the back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band before they left. You didn’t even think, just grabbed Joshua’s hand and yanked him with you, sprinting toward the van parked outside.

You were laughing as you ran, your grip tight around his wrist, and Joshua couldn’t help the way his heart raced—whether from running or from being so close to you, he didn’t know. He could hear you breathing hard, could see the wildness in your eyes. And for the first time, he got it. The thrill. The chaos. The rush that came with living your life like this.

By the time you both reached the van and slammed the door behind you, you collapsed onto the seat, letting out a long, relieved moan. Joshua just stood there for a moment, chest heaving, eyes wide. He felt it now—the thrill, the electric hum in his blood. But also something else, something that made his stomach twist.

When you caught his eye and smiled that lazy, satisfied smile, he felt like he was losing his grip. You looked like a sexy mess, hair tousled, lipstick smeared, eyes sparkling. He could still feel the warmth of your hand in his, and it was doing things to him—dangerous things.

“The after-party’s at a club,” you said, glancing at him as the van roared to life. “Private for tonight. Just the band and our friends.”

Joshua nodded, his mouth dry. He had no idea what to expect.

[...]

The club was another world entirely.

The moment you stepped inside, Joshua was hit with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something that might’ve been smoke, but wasn’t just cigarettes. The bass was pounding, vibrating through the floor, and there were bodies everywhere.

The first thing he noticed was your bandmates already surrounded by a small crowd of girls—half-naked, some practically sitting in their laps. One of them was making out with the guitarist, her hand slipping under his shirt while the others just laughed, already drunk and messy.

Joshua’s throat tightened, his eyes wide as he took it all in. It was chaos. Absolute chaos. People were drinking, smoking, making out in dark corners, hands wandering under clothes with zero shame.

And then there was you.

You didn’t miss a beat, grabbing a drink from the bar and downing it like it was water. When you turned to face him, leaning back against the bar with your leather pants clinging to your body and your shirt barely covering anything, you were a vision. A sexy, disheveled vision, your hair a mess, lips wet from the drink, and eyes hazy from the adrenaline of the show.

You were the kind of person that people wrote songs about—the kind of person that people lost themselves over.

“You good?” you asked, voice low, almost drowned out by the music.

Joshua blinked, swallowing hard. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.” But he wasn’t. He could barely keep his head straight with everything going on around him.

You grinned, holding out your drink. “Here. This’ll help.”

He hesitated for a second, but then grabbed the glass, taking a long gulp. The burn of alcohol felt good, grounding him for a moment. But it wasn’t enough to block out the heat in his chest, the strange attraction, the strange guilt swirling inside him.

You chuckled, watching him down half the drink. “Easy there.”

Joshua wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling hard. He shook his head, swallowing again, trying to focus. But then you were close—too close—and he could smell the combination of your perfume and sweat, and suddenly it was all he could think about. You were so casual about it, so relaxed in this wild mess, like you were born for it.

Joshua stared at you, watching the way your body moved with the music, the way your hips swayed slightly, your hair falling in your face. And he couldn’t help it—he wanted you. Wanted to pull you close, to taste the sweat on your skin, to feel the heat of you pressed against him.

But he couldn’t. You were his best friend. You’d been through everything together. But right now, in this moment, you weren’t just his friend. You were a fucking rockstar. And that terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

Joshua took another long drink, trying to drown the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. You watched him, a slow, knowing smile creeping onto your lips as you leaned in closer, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“You feelin’ it now, aren’t you?” you whispered, voice just loud enough for him to hear.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Because yeah, he was feeling it. The rush, the heat, the want. And it was all because of you.

Someone in the crowd—a guy with a half-buttoned shirt and lazy grin—held out a blunt to Joshua, smirking. “Want a hit, man?”

Joshua froze. His mind blanked for a second. “Nah, he doesn’t smoke. Leave him alone.” The air suddenly felt too heavy, the idea of it too real. Before he could even answer, you were at his side, grabbing the guy’s hand and pushing it back with a casual laugh. “He’s too saintly for that.”

Joshua froze, the word saintly cutting through the noise. You were teasing, of course, but that single word twisted in his gut. He didn’t need you looking at him like that—like he was too pure, too clean for this world you thrived in. He hated it. Hated that you saw him like some untouched, pristine version of himself that didn’t even exist. That look you gave him, all amused and lighthearted, made his skin crawl because it only reminded him of how distant he felt from you in that moment.

You grinned at him, eyes gleaming. “Come on, Josh. You’re way too neat for this shit. Leave the bad habits to me.”

He clenched his jaw, hands in his pockets, trying to keep his cool. The thing was—you had no idea. You saw him as the same old Joshua, the one you grew up with, the guy who kept his hands clean while you dived headfirst into the chaos. But fuck, that wasn’t him. Not really. Not anymore. You thought he was some perfect church boy who’d never done anything wild, who probably still had his V-card, for God’s sake.

If only you knew.

The way you laughed about it, as if the thought of him doing anything wild—anything sinful—was so absurd it was hilarious. And that burned. More than it should’ve.

Joshua swallowed, trying to keep his cool, but your words dug in deep. Saintly. Neat. Like you didn’t know. Like you couldn’t even imagine him doing anything like that. He wasn’t a fucking saint. He wasn’t clean like you thought. He’d done things—felt things—that would wipe that smirk off your face. But you… you never saw him that way. Not Joshua.

 “You’re lucky, y’know? Not everyone can pull off that whole saintly thing,” you teased, brushing a hand through your messy hair.

He clenched his jaw. “I’m not a fucking saint,” he muttered under his breath. But you didn’t hear him—or maybe you didn’t care.

Joshua felt his pulse quicken, the alcohol buzzing in his system, loosening up the tension in his limbs but doing nothing to calm his mind. He hated how you looked at him. Like he was too clean, too good for this world you lived in. He hated how you never saw him as anything more than “good ol’ Joshua.” The guy who had never gone off the rails, the guy who probably never even had his dick wet before.

That’s what you thought, wasn’t it?

And fuck, he couldn’t stand it. The truth gnawed at him, because you had no idea who he was outside of your little bubble. You didn’t know about the times he’d stayed up too late, desperate to cum, the fantasies he’d let himself get lost in—half of them about you, goddammit. You didn’t know about the nights he’d spent grinding against someone, hands buried in their hair, feeling the warmth of their body pressed against his, the messy nights where he lost himself entirely.

You looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

His breath caught. You were joking—you had to be—but something in the way you said it, so casual, so sure that he wouldn’t… it broke something in him. The club around him blurred as he focused on you, standing there all relaxed, your lips still slightly parted, that familiar teasing glint in your eyes.

He couldn’t stop himself. “You really think I’m that fucking innocent, huh?” His voice was sharper than he intended, the words cutting through the thrum of the music.

You blinked, pulling back slightly, surprised by the edge in his tone. “What? No, I just—”

“You think I’ve never been with anyone? Never had my fuckin’ cock wet before?” He didn’t care how crude it sounded. Didn’t care that it was probably the first time you’d ever heard him talk like that. He was sick of it. Sick of the version of himself you’d created in your mind.

You feel the heat rise in your chest, a compound of anger and something else you don’t even want to admit. The way he said it—rough, out of character—like he was someone else entirely. Part of you wants to slap him for it, for breaking the image of the Joshua you knew. The good one. The clean-cut guy who’d never even raise his voice, let alone tell you he wasn’t so fucking innocent. But the other part of you… it liked it. The tension, the bite in his words, the way he stood there, all riled up.

You narrow your eyes, smirking just a little.

His jaw clenches. His nostrils flare. For the first time, you see his eyes darken—none of that usual light. No soft Joshua anymore. His face shifts into something harder, almost dangerous. It catches you off guard, and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re playing a game you can win.

“Don’t push it,” he warns. It sends a cold lick from the beginning of your spine to the end, but you tilt your head, still smirking, testing him.

“What? Gonna do something about it?” You lean in closer, just inches from his face now, daring him. “C’mon, Joshua. Show me.”

And then it happens.

He’s on you so fast, you don’t even have time to process it. His hands grab your waist, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you feel it—the hard line of his cock pressing into your belly. Your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in, testing the waters, your body instinctively reacting to the sudden heat between you two.

His mouth crashes onto yours, rough, almost desperate, all that pent-up tension is spilling out at once. His lips are soft but demanding, like they’re asking for something, but also taking it without permission. You kiss him back just as fiercely, a messy clash of teeth and tongues, the taste of alcohol on both your breaths mixing as you struggle for control.

His hands slide down your back, grabbing your ass with a roughness that makes you gasp, and he pulls you tighter against him, grinding into you just enough to let you know exactly how turned on he is. “Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, barely pulling away to speak. You can feel the frustration, the years of him being the good one, bubbling up in every kiss, every touch.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you grab onto his shoulders, pulling him even closer, your nails digging into his skin through his shirt. It’s messy, frantic, and the sound of it—the heavy breathing, the low growls coming from him, the way your lips smack together—fills the small space between you like the only thing that matters is how fast and hard you can make this happen.

And god, it’s wrong. So fucking wrong. You can feel it in the back of your mind, the thought lingering, telling you this isn’t who Joshua is. Not the guy you grew up with. But right now, he doesn’t feel like the Joshua you knew. He feels like someone who’s been hiding this side of himself for too long, someone who’s finally letting the mask slip.

And the worst part? You like it. Maybe too much.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his eyes—fuck, his eyes are almost black with craving, his chest heaving as he stares at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. You can see it on his face—how much he wants this, how much he needs to prove to you that he’s not as clean as you think he is.

“You sure you wanna keep pushing?” His voice is raspy, breathless, and his grip on your hips tightens. “’Cause I don’t think you can handle what happens if you do.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t back down. “Try me,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

And just like that, he’s on you again. This time, rougher. His mouth moves down to your neck, teeth scraping against your skin as he kisses you there, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and you feel the hard press of his cock grinding into your stomach as his hands roam over your body, touching, grabbing, pulling. He’s all over you.

You’re backed into the wall of the van now, his body trapping you there, and for a second, you think about the others. Your bandmates. The people who know Joshua—the real Joshua. You can almost feel their judgment, the silent “what the fuck” looks they’d give you if they saw this. If they saw how you’re fucking with his head, breaking him down until he’s someone else entirely.

But right now, none of that matters. Not when he’s kissing you like this, touching you like this. Not when his hand slips under your shirt, fingers grazing over your bare skin, making you shiver. Not when he’s showing you this side of himself that you never even thought existed.

And fuck, you realize. You’ve been wrong about Joshua. So, so wrong.

And he’s not done showing you just how wrong you’ve been.

Joshua’s hands slide under your top, squeezing your waist, his thumbs teasing your skin, brushing against the underside of your boobs until they find your nipples, flicking at the piercings. The sensation makes you gasp, your body betraying you as you fold under his touch. You clutch his arm, your breath heavy against his neck, before you moan right into his ear. You feel him twitch, nearly stumbling in front of you, his control unraveling.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking it back to force his eyes on you. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you can see the hunger there, the intensity, the rawness of it. “We need to stop,” you breathe, trying to sound firm, but even to your own ears, it’s weak.

Joshua’s mouth presses back against your neck, and he mutters between kisses, each one punctuating his words. “No. You don’t. Want. To. Stop. Do. You?” His breath is hot against your skin, each word hitting you harder than the last, unraveling your willpower.

“I’m serious,” you insist, but it’s pathetic, because the way he’s touching you—like he’s memorizing every inch of your body, like he’s known this moment was coming—makes it impossible to think straight.

He pulls back for a moment, eyes searching yours, checking if you really want to stop. His expression softens, as if he’s giving you an out. 

“We need to stop, or we’re gonna end up fucking right here in front of everyone.”

For a second, you both pause, glancing around. The crowd is still buzzing, everyone too lost in their own world to notice what’s happening between the two of you. You could, technically. You could fuck right here, and no one would bat an eye, but that last shred of morality keeps you in check, pulling you back from the edge. Barely.

Joshua was imagining just how much worse things could get. But honestly, he liked every single one of these thoughts. 

He grabs your hand, pulling you toward the club’s parking lot, and rushing toward the van.

The heavy door of the van slides shut behind you, and Joshua locks it with a rough click, sealing the two of you inside. The second the door’s closed, it’s like the floodgates open. His hands are everywhere—grabbing, pulling, needy. He kisses you harder now, more frantic, his body pushing you against the side of the van, and your back hits the first seat with a thud.

You stumble, the both of you crashing into a pile of boxed-up instruments. Your knee hits a guitar case, his ass bump on the drum box, but neither of you care. Joshua’s hand slides down to your ass, squeezing hard as he pulls you into him, making sure you feel every inch of him pressed against your thigh. You’re practically panting, the need between you both building, burning.

You push him back toward the last row of seats, hands fumbling at his belt as you go, your teeth grazing his jaw, his neck, tasting the sweat and the heat from the show earlier.

He moans down in his throat, a sound that rumbles through his chest and straight into yours, and you swear it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. His fingers dig into your hips as he backs into the seat, pulling you down on top of him, your legs straddling his lap, the hard press of his cock straining against his jeans beneath you.

“Fuck,” you gasp, grinding against him, and his head falls back against the seat, eyes rolling shut for a second as you move. You take advantage of it, your lips finding his neck, your teeth scraping his skin just enough to make him hiss.

The leather of your pants is sticking to your skin, but you barely register it as Joshua leans down, kissing you again, his hands slipping under your top and pulling it up, exposing you. His mouth moves lower, trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and then lower, until his lips are at your chest. He doesn’t hesitate—his mouth finds your nipple, and he flicks his tongue over the piercing, making you arch your back, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

The leather pants cling to you, slick with sweat, and you can feel every inch of them suffocating your skin. You groan in frustration, hands fumbling to yank them off. In your hurry, you knock your elbow hard against a nearby box, hissing in pain. Joshua’s hands are on you immediately, steadying you as you finally peel the damn pants down, tossing them aside like they personally offended you. He takes the opportunity to shove his own pants down to his knees, and as you glance up, he's yanking his shirt over his head.

You’re back on his lap before he even realizes what’s happening, grinding down on him through the thin fabric of your underwear and his boxers. It’s a hell of a lot better than the rough leather, and you feel the instant response—his hands grip your thighs so hard it’s like he’s holding on for dear life, his head falling back with this breathless, whiny moan.

His fingers slide down the front of your panties, finding you soaked, and he’s instantly wrecked. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” he growls, his voice ragged, eyes dark and hungry as they lock onto yours. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

The dirty words coming from him feel so wrong, so foreign, but god, it’s making your head spin, red flags of danger flickering in your mind, and you can’t stop.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mumble, still grinding against his hand, but then he pushes a finger inside you, and your whole body jolts. A hand flies up, palm slamming against the fogged window for balance, leaving a print there as you rock forward, riding his thick, calloused finger.

His finger feels huge, and the stretch of it makes you dizzy. You’re thankful for the seat behind you, giving you the support you need because you’re practically sprawled back on it, grinding on his hand like your life depends on it. 

He’s watching you, eyes locked on every twitch of your face, every moan spilling from your lips, and then he slides another finger in. The stretch makes you gasp, thighs trembling as he moves them inside you, fingers curling and hitting that spot that makes your vision go blurry.

“Talk dirty to me,” he suddenly demands, voice low and gruff. 

“You… don’t like it when I curse,” you manage, barely coherent as his fingers keep moving inside you.

“Fuck that,” he growls, fingers curling deeper, making you whimper. “Call me whatever the fuck you want. Call me a motherfucker, I don’t care. Just talk to me, let me hear it.”

Your body’s trembling, eyes rolling back as you grind harder against his hand, desperate for more.

You moan, feeling his fingers pumping inside you as his thumb brushes your clit. You’re teetering on the edge, and words are spilling out before you can stop them. “God, Joshua… Always acting so pure. I bet no one would believe how fucking hard you are for me right now, huh?”

His breath stutters at your words, his fingers thrusting harder inside you. “Keep going.”

“Is this what you’ve wanted?” you gasp, rocking your hips against him, feeling that coil tightening in your belly. “You want me to ride your fingers like a fucking slut, huh?”

He groans, low and deep. "Fuck, yes”

Your body’s trembling, every thrust of his fingers pushing you closer to the brink. “You’re such a motherfucker,” you whisper against his lips, your voice breaking. "You feel that? Feel how close I am? You're gonna make me—shit!—cum all over your fingers.”

Your head falls back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed as his rough, calloused fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your entire body tense. You're whimpering, struggling to keep the dirty talk going, but it's hard to form words when every nerve in your body is on fire. "God, Joshua, your fingers... they’re so fucking big," you manage to choke out, voice shaky.

He smirks, eyes dark, watching the way your body responds to him. “If you think my fingers are big,” he breathes, thrusting them deeper, faster, “imagine how you’re gonna feel when it’s my cock inside you.”

The thought sends another wave of heat pooling between your legs, and you grip his forearm, nails digging into his skin as he moves his fingers faster, relentless, pressing into your sweet spot over and over. Your walls clamp down around him, and a broken cry escapes your lips, your body trembling as the tension snaps, pleasure ripping through you in a rush.

"Fuck—Joshua!" you moan, your voice high and desperate as your orgasm hits you hard, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tight you can barely think. Your slick coats his hand, and he watches you fall apart, eyes locked on the way your body writhes against his, chest heaving, face twisted in pleasure.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, and you can feel him watching you, his expression mirroring your own without even meaning to. His lips part in a quiet curse, like he’s just as lost in it as you are, completely captivated by the way you cum on his fingers, riding the digits until you curl up on him.

His fingers slip out of you, slick and shiny, leaving you empty. Your breath catches in your throat when his hand dips down to his own cock, still hard and straining under the thin fabric of his boxers. He grunts softly, shifting, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of it through the fabric—big, thick. Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

He’s moving fast, lips already on you again, his mouth latching onto your nipple. You gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive bud, his tongue swirling over the metal of your piercing like he’s obsessed—after all, besides seeing it through your blouses, now he has them in his mouth. His grip tightens around your waist, pulling you closer, almost like he’s trying to devour you.

“Fuck, Joshua,” you rasp out, voice shaky, still buzzing from the orgasm he pulled from you with just his fingers. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

He pauses for a second, teeth scraping your skin as his mouth moves up to nip at your collarbone, smirking. “What, you think just 'cause I look all neat and clean, I don’t know how to make a girl cum?” he leaves a wet hickey on your chest. “Trust me, babe, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You arch into him, head tilting back as his tongue flicks against your other nipple, but this time, he looks inside your eyes. “Could’ve fooled me… always acting like a saint.”

His hand tightens on your thigh, sliding up between your legs again, brushing against your soaked panties. He smirks against your skin. “You’re the one who’s been driving me fucking crazy. Always teasing me. You know how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

You’re about to reply, but his fingers are pulling at the waistband of your panties, dragging them to the side. The next thing you know, he’s pushing his boxers down, freeing his cock. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of it—he’s big, thicker than you expected, the tip already slick with precum. And for a moment, you can’t help but wonder how many girls have seen this side of him, but then he’s guiding you back onto his lap, hands firm on your hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Shit,” you whisper, feeling the thick head of his cock brushing against your folds. The feel makes you hold your breath, the heat from his body and the sheer wrongness of it making your pulse race.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a brief second, there’s conflict there—like he’s torn between the best friend who used to crash on your couch, and the guy who's about to fuck you. He’s barely holding himself together.

He guides himself inside you slowly, inch by inch, and you can feel every stretch, every pulse of his cock as it fills you up. You gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as you sink down onto him, his size making your head spin. "Jesus, Joshua..." you groan, head falling forward, overwhelmed by how full you feel.

His cock feels impossibly big, filling you up completely, and for a moment, you wonder how the hell you’re even taking him.

His hands tremble slightly on your waist as he pushes the rest of the way in, a throaty moan slipping from his lips. “Fuck, this is so wrong,” he mutters, voice shaky, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re my fucking best friend, I shouldn’t be doing this—” His voice breaks off into another moan as you start to move, your hips rolling against him.

You watch him, grinning at the conflict flickering in his eyes, the way his face contorts with each movement of your hips. His best friend—the girl he’s never even crossed boundaries with—now stretched out, tight around his cock. It's almost too much for him, his mind clearly buzzing with how wrong it is, but his body craves more, needing the way you feel wrapped around him.

His moans meld with yours, louder now, whiny. "You're making me fucking lose my mind."

You lean in close, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “Then lose it. Let me fuck you like no one else ever has.”

He growls low in his throat, his control slipping completely. He thrusts up into you, harder, deeper, and you moan, head falling back as your body rocks against his. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing roughly as he pulls you down onto him again and again, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust.

You press both hands to his chest, halting his frantic thrusts, pinning him back against the seat. “Whoa, slow down,” you say, eyes locked on his as you adjust yourself, shifting until you find the angle that makes you gasp. His cock twitches inside you, and you bite back a smirk. You know you’ve got him right where you want him now.

You flick your hair to one side, leaning back a bit, and start riding him slow, dragging it out, making sure he feels every inch. His mouth opens to say something, but you change the motion, circling your hips instead, and whatever he was going to say dies in his throat. You scoff, half laughing, half moaning. “What? Why so quiet now?”

His hands fly to the armrests, knuckles turning white as he grips the leather for dear life. You know exactly what he’s doing—trying to stop himself from grabbing you too rough, like you can’t handle it. Like you don’t want him to. But you take one of his hands and place it on the side of your face, his palm practically engulfing your head. You lean into his touch, biting your lip before saying it. “Slap me.”

His eyes go wide. “What?”

“Come on,” you grind down on him again, slower, teasing. “You’ve never slapped anyone before? Right on my face. Do it.”

He looks torn, breath hitching as you ride him harder. You can tell he’s struggling to even think straight, his stomach clenching, his abs flexing under your hands as the pleasure hits him hard. But it’s your pace that’s driving him insane, the way you bounce on his cock, taking him deep, then slowing down just enough to drag it out. He’s barely hanging on.

His voice is rough when he finally speaks, “Fuck… I don’t—” He gasps when you clench around him on purpose, his hips flinching up into you, reflexive. His hand tightens on your jaw before he lets go, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can—”

“Shut up,” you whisper, eyes burning with challenge. “Slap me.” The way you’re looking at him, daring him, makes his heart pound in his chest. He hesitates for half a second, but when you grind down on him again, harder, his control snaps.

He slaps you, hard. Harder than he intended.

The sound of it rings out, followed by his shocked gasp. But you’re already moaning, your pussy clenching so tight around him that he almost loses it. He watches in disbelief as you react, the slap turning you on even more, your walls fluttering around his cock, soaking him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, staring at you, wide-eyed, as you keep riding him like nothing just happened—no, like it made everything better.

Your body jerks with each bounce, the slap leaving a burning sting on your cheek, but all it does is fuel the fire between your legs. “See?” you taunt. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He groans, the sound low and desperate. “Fuck… you’re fucking insane.” His hands find your waist again, but this time he doesn’t try to hold back. He grips you tight, fingers digging into your skin as you grind against him, circling your hips just to watch his head fall back, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut.

Every time you clench down on him on purpose, his whole body flinches, like he’s trying so hard not to lose control. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls, voice ragged. “I can feel… fuck, I can feel you squeezing me like you want me to fucking break.”

You bite your lip, eyes half-lidded as you meet his gaze. “Maybe I do.”

Joshua's thumb strokes the still-hot skin of your cheek where he slapped you. You bounce hard on his cock, the slap only making the tension between you snap tighter. His thumb lingers, gently caressing the mark like he’s making up for what he did, but you grin, biting your lip through the pleasure and ask for more;

“Slap me again.”

It’s the same voice you used when you asked him to push you harder on a swing—excited, impatient, full of that rush of adrenaline. He sucks in a breath, brows furrowed like he’s torn, but the way your pussy tightens around him makes his decision for him. His hand raises again, and this time, it lands with purpose.

Your face turns to the side from the force, cheek burning red-hot, and fuck, it burns even better than the last one. 

Your pussy tightens around him instantly, and Joshua groans. He can feel the way your body responds, how you pulse around him every time he does it. You moan, “Fuck… I think I’m gonna cum again.” The whine at the end of your sentence makes his cock twitch, and it sparks something animalistic in him.

Joshua grabs your hips, lifting you just enough to pin you down on his lap, grinding his pelvis into you so deep that your vision goes hazy for a second. You roll your eyes, barely hanging on. Before you can catch your breath, he’s flipping you onto the seat, his cock never leaving you as he lays you down, spreading your legs up and grabbing the backs of your knees.

The new angle has you arching your back immediately, hands scrambling for purchase on the seat. He starts thrusting, and it’s so hard and deep you swear your body is melting into the seat. Each snap of his hips sends a sharp lock of bliss through you, his pelvis slamming into yours, and you know anyone outside can hear the van rocking, but you don’t fucking care.

You don’t care about anything except him, the way his thumb circles your clit just as he slips it down, thumb circling the base of his cock, spreading your slickness over the throbbing nerve. Your body jerks, an involuntary sob escaping your throat.

Joshua’s never seen you like this—ruined, makeup streaking down your face, thick tears rolling down your cheeks. His grin is huge, his breath ragged as he stares down at you, fucking relentless in his pace. “Aw, look at you. You’re crying on my cock,” he coos, his voice laced with sweet mockery. He presses harder on your clit, making you squirm, and he chuckles low, shaking his head. “Such a good girl, crying for me like that. You can’t even handle it, can you?”

You let out a strangled gasp, your body writhing under him as you feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, everything inside you winding so tight. “Fuck,” you choke out, “Josh, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby,” he growls, leaning down, his mouth right by your ear now. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, gonna make a mess of me?”

You’re too far gone to answer, your head tipped back as your body reaches its breaking point. His thumb circles your clit faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over, and your whole body shakes uncontrollably. You feel the coil snap inside you so hard that you almost black out, your pussy clenching around him like a vice as you cum, the orgasm ripping through you with inhuman intensity. 

You scream his name, tears streaming down your face as you sob through it, your body trembling violently as your release floods out of you, soaking his cock and thighs.

Joshua watches, mesmerized by how fucking ruined you are beneath him, and he leans down, whispering against your lips, “That’s right. Cry for me more, baby. Show me how good it feels. Look at you… soaking me like that, dripping all over me.”

Joshua's hips stutter, and you feel the unmistakable swell of his cock inside you, growing thicker, pulsing as he teeters on the edge. He pulls out suddenly, leaving you breathless as he grips his cock, jerking it against your slick stomach. His hand is tight, desperate, moving fast as his chest rises and falls in ragged breaths.

His moans are a mess—whiny, high-pitched, slipping from his throat like he can’t control them. He bites his bottom lip hard, but the sly little whimpers escape him anyway, each sound more desperate than the last. His abs tense, his whole body trembling above you, muscles tight as a cord about to snap. His eyes flutter shut, head falling back slightly as he loses himself in the feeling.

“Fuck—” he gasps, his voice breaking as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His grip falters for a split second, and then his cock jerks hard in his hand, spilling hot ropes of cum. It spurts in thick, messy streams, splattering across your belly, sliding up toward your chest, even reaching your chin. His knees buckle slightly, and he has to grab the back of the seat in front of him to keep from collapsing, his whole body shuddering through the force of it.

He’s panting, still jerking himself through the aftershocks, and his cum keeps dripping from the tip, mixing with the sweat that’s already covering both of you. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, falling to the side as your body finally gives out, utterly spent. The van feels suffocating, the air thick and humid, making it hard to breathe as the windows fog up completely now.

Joshua’s hand is still braced on the seat for support, knuckles white, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes flicker open, and when he looks down at you—covered in him, eyes heavy, body limp—you can see the disbelief, the satisfaction, and maybe even a little guilt.

But neither of you moves, too wrecked to do anything but exist in the humid silence of the van, your breaths slowly returning to something like normal.

Joshua settles into the seat next to you, staring down at you like he’s trying to make sense of everything. You both stay silent, like the weight of what just happened hasn’t fully hit yet. Neither of you moves; it's as if you need this stillness to process, to figure out what the fuck this was and where it might lead. Was it the alcohol? The adrenaline? Or maybe the tension between you two, the one you both never admitted but always felt.

He suddenly stands up, his voice breaking the silence. “Where’s your necessaire?” You barely register the question, too lost in thought, so you just point lazily toward the front of the van, your limbs too tired to follow his movements.

You hear the zipper open, the soft rustle of him digging through your things. Your legs ache from the awkward position they’re in, but before you can shift, Joshua is back beside you. Without a word, he gently lifts your legs, folding them in a more comfortable position, almost cradling you. You catch his eyes as he pulls out makeup remover wipes.

He starts with your face, wiping away the tear-streaked makeup, his touch as soft as it’s ever been. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs, brushing your cheek tenderly—the same cheek he slapped earlier, his movements extra gentle now, like he’s trying to undo any mark he left.

You close your eyes, feeling his hands glide across your skin. “You’re lucky I know how to clean this up,” he teases lightly, the sound of his voice strangely comforting. “You always were a mess after shows.”

You hum, half-laughing. “You should see me after the after-parties.” The humor doesn’t land quite like it usually does; there’s something too real now, something too intimate that makes the joke feel heavy.

He uses a fresh wipe to clean the cum from your body, starting at your chin and working his way down your belly. His touch lingers, but it’s not lustful—more like he’s making sure every part of you is taken care of, like you’re something precious. “Lift your arm for me,” he says softly, and you comply, feeling the coolness of the wipe brush under your arm and along your ribs.

When he finishes, his hand slips to your necklace, the little cross with the rhinestones—one you wear mostly because of him. His fingers fiddle with it for a second, the small gesture almost grounding, like it’s pulling him back to reality. 

“You good?” he asks finally, eyes scanning your face, like he’s not sure if he went too far, if maybe you’re more hurt than you’re letting on.

“Yeah,” you breathe, and even though you’re wrecked, there’s something warm in your chest. “I’m good.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, his touch featherlight. “You sure? You need anything else?”

You smirk a little, exhausted but still yourself. “Yeah, I need a nap.”

Joshua chuckles under his breath, still holding your necklace. “Alright, you take that nap. I’ll watch over you.” There’s something sweet in his tone, a promise hidden in the words, something you know he means more than he’s letting on.

And as you start to drift, you can’t help but think that despite everything—despite the wild shit that just happened—Joshua is still Joshua. Sweet, caring, a little too good for this world, and somehow, still your person.

[...]

The nap you took wasn’t just any nap—it was wild, like the kind where time feels like it disappears. When you finally blink your eyes open, groggy and confused, the van’s already moving, and you hear muffled voices. Your crew is in the van now, going about their business like nothing happened. Instinctively, your hands fly to your chest, covering yourself, but you’re already dressed—the same clothes from the show.

Relief floods through you, though you’re not sure why. Then you realize where your head is resting—not on the uncomfortable seat like before, but on Joshua’s lap. His thick thighs beneath you are surprisingly comfortable, his body warm against yours.

You feel him stir beneath you, his body shifting as he wakes up too. His hand brushes against your arm, and you glance up, meeting his eyes. His hair’s a bit messy, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but there’s this soft smile on his face, one that makes you feel like everything’s okay.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep, his hand absentmindedly stroking your arm.

“Mornin’,” you echo back, your own voice low and hoarse.

There’s a moment of quiet between you, the rest of the van oblivious to the weight of everything that passed between you two last night. You shift a little, feeling his thighs under you, and the memories flash through your head—the heat, the sex, the things you said and did. You wonder if he’s thinking about it too.

“You slept through everything,” he teases, his smile widening, though there’s a hint of something unspoken behind it.

You chuckle, adjusting slightly but still keeping your head on his lap. “Guess I was tired, hm?”

“Tired? You passed out,” he grins, his hand moving to gently fix your hair. “Had to dress you. Can’t have the crew thinking… well, y’know.”

Your face flushes a bit, imagining him trying to carefully dress you without waking you up. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” he says, his tone playful but gentle. There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to make you wonder what’s next, what happens after this.

You glance around at the others in the van, but it’s like they’re in their own worlds. No one’s paying attention, no one’s noticed how close the two of you are, how your head’s still in his lap, how his fingers are still brushing through your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can get used to it, can't you?

[fatkish]

Alpha Rengoku x Omega Reader

Pt. 2 NSFW

You met again during the Mugen train fiasco. You went ahead of Tanjiro and the others and met up with Rengoku

You both talked, well mostly you talked while he ate, about the theories you had for how a whole train’s worth of passengers could disappear

Rengoku tried to feed you and insisted that you eat but you told him you didn’t want to eat in the event that it gave you a cramp mid battle. Rengoku understood and backed off

When you fell asleep from Enmu’s ability, you dreamt of a future with Kyojuro. You both got married and had children. You were so happy

When you woke up and realized it was a dream, you knew then that you wanted to persue a bond with Kyojuro

When Akaza showed up after defeating Enmu, you refused to let the fight go on after Rengoku lost an eye. You ran in between the two and faced down Akaza

You refused to move and told Akaza that if he’s going to kill your mate, he may as well kill you too, since you wouldn’t want to live in a world without Kyojuro

Akaza, having a self set rule of not killing and eating women and Omegas, decided to let you both live and fled, (it totally wasn’t because his human memories tried to interfere with him)

Once morning came you turned around and began scolding Kyojuro for being reckless with his own life. Whilst you yelled at him, he stood there still trying to comprehend the fact that you called him your mate

When you were finished scolding him and asked if he understood you, he asked if you really meant it when you called him your mate. You shyly admitted that you wouldn’t mind being his mate

Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to do much as a demon slayer anymore, Kyojuro decided that he would spend his time training the next generation of demon slayers, that way he still had enough time to be there for you as your mate

Once Kyojuro got all healed up, he retired and you went with him.

Shinjuro and Senjuro were so happy to have another member of the family. Senjuro was so excited to hear that you would be living with them permanently. Shinjuro was glad to have an omega to help look after

As things settled down, Kyojuro began to officially court you, he made sure you had a comfortable place to nest, he made sure you ate, he kept you safe and at night he’d keep you warm as he snuggled with you, holding you in his arms

When your heat came about, this man unleashed a feral side of him. You saw stars as Kyojuro ate you out like you were his last meal. His tongue writhing inside of you, his fingers curling and stretching your walls as he sucked on your pussy/bussy

Kyojuro has a 7 1/2 inch cock with delicious veins and a red tip. There’s a slight upwards curve and he has about 2 inches in girth. His knot is about 3 inches

When you presented for him, he descended upon you and sheathed his whole cock inside of you before plowing through your insides. He growled and bit at your neck as his cock pummeled your poor sensitive cunt/bussy

When his knot swelled and pushed inside of you, locking you both together, he snarled and bit down on your scent gland, marking you as his as he came

After your heat hit and passed, his rut happened two weeks later. During his rut, he had you in all kinds of positions, enjoying you in every way he could imagine. You couldn’t walk straight for a couple days afterwards

As time went on, Kyojuro had gotten you pregnant 5 different times. Each of your children have his flame like hair. You both had five children, three boys and two girls

When you gave Kyojuro the news, you surprised him by giving him a box that had baby clothes in them. When he asked what this meant, you smiled and told him he was going to be a father

He sat there for a few moments as his smile slowly grew larger as your words sunk in. When he finally registered what you said he scooped you up in his arms and spun you around before kissing you

When Shinjuro received the news of his becoming a grandfather, he smiled and promised to be a better role model for his grandchildren than he was for his boys

Senjuro was so excited to be an uncle and helped you during each pregnancy. He helped you cook and do the chores and even helped you get around when Kyojuro was busy

When your first child was born, Kyojuro wept as he held his first child for the first time. He thanked you endlessly for giving him something so precious as a child

When your milk started to come in, Kyojuro begged you to let him taste it, he gave you his best big puppy dog eyes and you caved. Kyojuro fell in love with the taste of your milk and you’ve had to scold him to leave some for his pups. Whatever they don’t drink, he’ll finish off, you never have issues with leaks since Kyojuro and the pups never let your milk overfill

His pups developed their father’s appetite for your milk, they’ll drink their fill then take a nap. When they wake up they’ll be hungry again

Kyojuro is always happy to get the babies when they cry at night, his pups love him and they immediately calm down

Shinjuro helps out as well. He and Kyojuro take turns with getting the kids

Kyojuro loves his pups and he happily plays with them. He teaches his pups to fight and defend themselves and plays rough with them, even the girls, when they want to

He lets his girls play with his hair and give him ridiculous hairstyles to which he happily shows off as a sign of his love for his children

Your kids love their grandpa Shinjuro and will tackle him to the floor to which he happily laughs at

He reads them stories and spoils them with toys. He loves his grandchildren and constantly thanks you for giving him grandchildren. He does still miss Ruka but he realized that his children love him and that even though there is still a void left from her passing, his loved ones will always be there for him

Senjuro helps you teach the pups and often visits with them. The pups love their uncle Senjuro and they think he’s cool and fun

Senjuro helps you in the kitchen since the family has become rather large and Kyojuro’s appetite has only grown. You and Senjuro share recipes and love cooking together

You’ll give him advice on life and he’ll happily take it. You also give him encouragement to find love and enjoy his life

Eventually, once Muzan is killed, you and Kyojuro open a dojo, there, you and Kyojuro teach people how to wield swords and how to properly fight with them, passing on the flame breathing techniques to your children

Tag list: @imagineshazamlokimight

[piastappies]

📸 BETTER THAN REVENGE

synopsis. after a fight with sirius, regulus comes to his girlfriend sulking and she decides to have a little talk with his older brother.

notes. regulus black x malfoy!reader

you and regulus had many more similarities than anyone could guess just by simply looking at the two of you. the most obvious included your background — ancient, pureblood families, who were nuts about purity, both in slytherin, both richer than most of the hogwarts students together, and in everyone’s eyes you were petty, stubborn and pretentious.

you two were petty and seemed pretentious, but it wasn’t all that. the two of you both had siblings, who maybe cared about you in some way, but never showed it well enough for you to be sure they cared. you were sure sirius cared, but you weren’t sure if lucius did. your brother was far from being a family guy.

both you and regulus were also painfully ambitious, and it kind of made the two of you so close as you were paired to one group in slughorn’s classes, and to secure yourself a top spot, you had to work together. and so half a year later, you were planning a trip to france, lying next to each other on the bed in his dorm.

after that one summer everything has changed, and now you two were an official couple, though not many people knew since neither of you wanted to make a big deal out of it. the amount of classes you shared had shrunken since you took different ones, but it just made your bond stronger.

it all happened on a week before both of you were supposed to return to your respective houses (though, regulus would be staying at potter’s), you were wrapping your present for barty, when your boyfriend stormed into the room. pandora, who sat there with you, claimed she would leave you two alone and left. you could easily see that something happened from the look on his face.

“reg,” you began, eyebrows furrowed at his sudden appearance. “is everything alright, love?” a soft ask left your lips as he just laid down on your bed, face buried in a pillow.

silence filled your room right after you finished your sentence. it was time for you to just sigh quietly, putting a hand on his back and scratching it gently. “you know you can talk to me, right?” your soft tone and the sensation of your nails on his back made him grunt.

“i’m not leaving for christmas.” he stated, catching you a little off guard. you were sure it was about the upcoming christmas ball that slughorn threw and since you were invited, regulus was ought to go with you. “i… got into a fight with sirius, so either we make up or i’m gonna go to my parents.” now, he was looking at you with misery and sadness flickering in his eyes.

“he thinks james is more of a brother to him than i am.” regulus adds, his head now resting on top of your laps as you play with his hair, trying to comfort him at least a little. “and he says it’s not that big of a deal, since i consider evan and barty my brothers and i’d probably say that they’re more of brothers to me than he is, but that’s not true.”

his words made your heart ache. it was clear to everyone in your friend group (including remus, who often just tagged along) to know how much regulus needed sirius’ validation, how much he needed to be reassured that he doesn’t hate him as much as regulus thought he did.

“i know we haven’t talked until he moved out, but it still hurts.” he whispered, not even looking you in the eyes. “and he doesn’t even recognize how much he means to me. he’s the only one in our entire family that matters more than everything. i got his initials and constellations tattooed and he thinks i would choose barty and evan over him?”

“you’re brother is an idiot, and i mean it.” you murmured, showering his head with kisses. if regulus was in his usual mood, he would say he just acts like an idiot, but now? he didn’t even want to defend him. “i’ll stay with you. i’d go nuts if i had to spend a minute with lucius.” you say softly, fingers running through his hair.

it took you a few more minutes to comfort him enough to leave your dorm for his evening practice, and even though you were supposed to finish packing your presents before christmas. you had to talk to one, annoying gryffindor, who was no other than sirius black.

getting into their common room was easy, lily, friend of a friend of yours, let you in after hearing your explanation, showing you how to get into sirius’ dorm that he shared with james, remus and peter. “one of you better hold me or i might kill your friend.” you let out, looking specifically remus, who looked at you with a glint of surprise.

“what did he do again?” lupin asked, his expression scolding. “what’re you doin’ here, malfoy?” peter began, but before he could elaborate, remus put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head as you looked for the perfect words.

“how can you be such an asshole, black?” you hissed, the end of your wand pointed at his throat. “one time you’re all on being the best older brother you can, but next time all i see in yourself is my brother, and believe me, that’s the furthest from a compliment.”

“i’m not done, yet.” your teeth gritted, eyes narrowed at him. “he’d never choose anyone over you, yet you’d always choose him —” you looked at james for half a second, then turned your eyes to sirius, again. “— over your own brother, who’d jump into flames just if you asked him to? unbelievable.” you sighed, putting your wand down, sliding it into your boot. “and you know what’s the worst in all that? that i wish he’d pick anyone else over you, but he won’t, because he can’t even get mad at you for not choosing him, he’s just sad.”

the atmosphere in the room is so tense, someone could cut it with knife. “you’re an idiot for making regulus feel so little about himself, and y’all are idiots for letting him.” another sight left your lips as your eyes were locked with sirius. “maybe even regulus will let you treat him like shit, but i won’t, black. i’ll make sure to haunt your dreams and turn them into nightmares, i can promise you that.” you gave him your most ironical smile. “i’m a malfoy, don’t underestimate me, cutie pie.” you sent him a wink,

“protective girlfriend, huh?” remus chuckled as you passed him, giving you a high-five. “oh you bet, lupin.” and you left, sirius almost shamless at your sudden outburst, but… it was quite impressive — though, he’d never admit it.

you haven’t seen neither of them till the next morning at breakfast, when they walked to the great hall together, talking about something until each of them got to their respective tables. “what did you do?” regulus asked, sitting on the bench beside you.

“what?” you asked with a sweet smile, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “just had a small talk with sirius, why?”

“a small talk? with the tip of your wand pressed against his throat?” you nodded at his words, sending him a fake-puzzled look. “you know i love you?” he bit back a smile, leaning closer to whisper those words right to your ear.

“oi, malfoy.” barty started, interrupting your somehow intimate moment with regulus. “theoretically, if i paid you, could you do that to me as well? that must’ve looked bloody hot.” crouch grinned, getting a light punch on the shoulder from your boyfriend.

“i would rather not touch you, crouch. i don’t know where the hell have you been.” you laughed, your head resting on regulus’ shoulder as his arm was wrapped around your waist. “don’t worry, baby. if any of them bothers you, i can fight.” you winked at him playfully.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One TwentySix

Eddie climbs into the beemer, looking as hang dog as Steve has ever seen him, “what’s wrong?”

Eddie fiddles with his sweater cuffs, plucking at them with his finger nails, frowning, “we...speak English?”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s what the language is called, English.”

“And...many more? Languages? Lots and lots, right?”

“Yeah baby, that’s right, what’s wrong?” Steve grows increasingly more alarmed, Eddie actually looks like he might cry.

“I have to learn more? Learn all?”

“Oh! Oh no, not if you don’t want to. You could learn another one one day, but only if you want to.”

“Sure? Do you promise?”

“Yeah. Yes, baby, I promise. Just this one.”

Eddie sags in his seat, whole body crumpling with relief. Steve can’t help but laugh, but he does give Eddie’s hand a comforting squeeze.

Eddie gets into the beemer holding one massive fucking sunflower. Like, the head of the thing is just. Huge.

“Too big. Too different,” Eddie elaborates, “can’t sell it.”

“Well, that’s okay, it’ll fit in perfect on the coffee table,” Eddie nods affably at Steve’s suggestion.

“Stevie?” Steve hums to show he’s listening, checking his mirrors as he pulls out of the car parking space. “Should we go to church?”

“Church?”

“Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Eddie sounds the name carefully, “say she’s worried about my immortal soul.”

“Does she now. And who is Mrs. Vanderbilt?”

“She makes flower arrangements for church. Stevie? What’s an immortal soul?”

Steve snorts a laugh, “well. Uhm. So there’s...some people believe that there’s God, and heaven and hell and stuff like that. And there’s loads of religions, like with languages, lots of places have different ones and...God is kind of like...do you remember El explaining about Santa at Christmas?”

“Yes. He has a beard and reindeer and choose if you’re good, then gifts. Not real though, fun for kids believe.”

“Yeah. Yeah God is like that, but for grown-ups. And instead of gifts you get into heaven when you die.” Steve sees Eddie’s face crinkle up in his peripheral vision, “actually, you know what, I bet there’s a book about this, library detour?”

Eddie nods, humming agreeably.

The book on religions they find at the library is probably, now, a little below Eddie’s reading level, but it seemed like the best option at the time. When Eddie looks up from it and asks, “think The Upside Down is hell?” Steve sort of regrets the idea of a book.

“No. No I don’t.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Hell's probably more like, fire. And brimstone. And I never once saw a little demon with a pitchfork. Also, and I know this for absolute certain, there’s no way someone as good as you comes from Hell.”

“Oh.”

“I think...it’s up to you want you want to decide baby, you read as much as you like, and you think about it, but I think it’s made up, like a-” Steve hesitates over actually saying 'fairy tale', since he’s talking to a guy who, literally, is like a character from one of those stories, “like something that’s made up," He finishes lamely. "Anyway, forget the book, come up here, I haven’t won the kissing game for a couple of days and I’m feeling lucky.”

Eddie leaves the book, forgotten for a while, and Steve decides the first chance he gets he’s taking that one back.

“Stevie!” Eddie bursts through the door of family video, luckily it’s the middle of the day and the place is dead. He breezes straight past Steve and presents four pink roses to Robin, “from Chrissy,” he tells her, causing a spectacular blush to form on Robins cheeks before she sinks down behind the counter.

Eddie completely ignores her. “Knock knock.”

“Who's there?” Steve asks reflexively.

“Eddie with some flowers,” Eddie says proudly, and then promptly bursts out laughing.

“Uhm...Eddie with some flowers who?”

“What?” Eddie looks confused.

“...what?” Steve asks, feeling as confused as Eddie looks.

Eddie brightens again a second later, “knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Steve asks again, cautious this time.

“Family Video.”

“Family video...who?”

“Family video not house!” Eddie declares, and then laughs uproariously.

From behind the counter, Robin Whispers, “what is happening?”

“I have...absolutely no idea,” Steve answers, right before Eddie starts again on another nonsensical knock knock joke.

There isn’t much that Eddie does that annoys Steve, to be fair, there’s not really anything. But this. By the time he gets home he’s had enough of Eddie’s one man comedy act. “Joyce,” he hisses down the phone desperately, “you don’t understand how shit they are; they don’t even mean anything.”

She has the audacity to laugh at him, “I remember the boys going through that phase. They both did it when they were...four? Maybe Jon was five.”

“How long does it last???”

“Oh, I don’t know, few months maybe, off and on?”

Steve, very gently, bangs his forehead against the wall.

Eddie’s holding a bunch of something pink and only, maybe, a tiny bit wilted. He’s bright eyed as he gets into the car, “Stevie, Chrissy say at me about a new thing. We can try?”

“Sure, baby, what is it?” Steve has the car in reverse, checking his mirrors as he pulls out of the spot.

“Blowjobs.”

Steve’s really pleased with how well he just...doesn’t react to that. Because, truthfully, he’s thought about it. He has. Really. But...well. Eddie’s teeth are sharp. And it’s not that Steve thinks Eddie would ever, ever hurt him on purpose, but that doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t have some, potentially, unresolved toe loss related trauma. And then there’s Eddie’s dick, and how...wriggly it is. How the end opens up and the...well. Just the whole thing, really.

“Stevie?”

“Why...are you and Chrissy talking about blowjobs?”

Eddie shrugs, “Chrissy not really like them, she ask if I liked them. I say I not try them. She said…” Eddie frowns, thinking, “she said, ‘you never get a blowjob?’ and got...angry sad? At Stevie?”

“Oh, she thought I was getting blowjobs but never giving you blowjobs?” Steve can, vaguely, feel his eye starting to twitch. He also can’t help but be fucking irritated with Chrissy, not only is it not her business, but he also can’t really be annoyed with her because...really if that’s what she was worried about, she is only sticking up for Eddie. He’s so naive, there’s no way Chrissy hasn’t picked up on just how innocent Eddie is, so Steve can't really blame her for thinking that anyone could take advantage of Eddie.

Even if it is fucking annoying.

“Yes, but I tell her no blow jobs at all. But we can try now, right?”

“Right. Right. Yeah. Sure. Uh hu.”

Eddie nods, “when we get home.”

“Right,” Steve says, with far more confidence than he feels.

“Stevie? Why not tell about blowjobs before?”

Steve hums, “just kind of...was saving it for a special occasion?” He tries desperately, he can’t look at Eddie as he speaks, keeping his eyes on the road, “didn’t want to go through all the good stuff too fast, you know?”

“Oh okay.”

Eddie limpets himself to Steve the second they’re over the threshold, demanding kisses, his fingers already exploring around Steve’s jeans button, “hang on hang on, couch or bed?”

“Couch,” Eddie answers easily, still kissing Steve as they walk awkwardly though the house. Steve sits, letting Eddie kneel between his legs, fumbling with his zipper.

And, the thing is, Steve really, genuinely believed he could do this. He trusts Eddie, he does. He loves Eddie, really, but he’s not even half hard when Eddie gets him out. And like Eddie...is, he tends to just go for things. Steve catches sight of the teeth and just...can’t. His hands are in Eddie’s way and he’s tucking himself away again before he can really think about it, “could we, maybe, leave this until...later?”

Eddie pouts, “want to try.”

“I just, I don’t want to do this right now, okay?” And the guilt Steve feels is a live thing. He remembers so clearly when he’d been frightened of Eddie’s dick, and how upset Eddie had been. That same fear raises it’s ugly head.

“But why? Chrissy tell me boys really like it-”

“I mean, I do. Kind of. But I just think we could...not do this.”

“But Chrissy say-”

“Jesus Christ Eddie.” Steve snaps, getting angry now. He’s not going to be prodded into doing something he just doesn’t want to do. Especially not by Chrissy Cunningham. “Since you’ve been working with her it’s been Chrissy this and Chrissy that, can’t you just, leave it? For once?” Steve gets up, needing to be away from this conversation.

“But why?”

“Because I just don’t want to, okay? Why don’t you go and ask Chrissy since she knows everything,” Steve snaps again, he knows he’s snapping, and it’s just making him angrier at himself for reacting this way, but he can’t seem to stop himself, defensiveness fueled by the guilt eating at him.

“Maybe,” Eddie says, hands on hips, frowning from the doorway.

“Go then. Go ask her what I should do about it.”

Eddie’s frown is nuclear now as he faces Steve across the kitchen, he tries to speak, half formed words at first, Eddie clearly struggling as he gets upset, “you think? You think?? You promise forever! Stee scared of Eddidie more! Eddidie different! Stee tell away!”

“You are though, you are different!” Steve knows he's wrong the second he says it. He knows Eddie well enough that saying that in anger is a cheap shot, and unforgivable low blow.

Eddie’s mouth pops open, shocked and affronted. He goes to speak but just...doesn’t. He turns and leaves...Steve hears the front door go.

“For fucks sake,” he sighs to himself, angry and upset with himself, the fight goes out of him as he’s swamped by guilt. Steve makes himself move to follow Eddie out. He opens the door just in time to watch Eddie pull the beemer out of the driveway, “oh fuck.”

“There’s pretty much only one place he would go, I think.” Steve tells Hopper, “so I’m pretty sure he will be there.”

Hopper hums from the drivers seat, “and what exactly did you two fight about?”

“I...well. I think this is one of those times where you don’t ask unless you’re really sure you want to know.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, there it is,” Steve breathes a massive sigh of relief, the beemer is parked near the florist. Tight to the curb too, a good parking job, and there’s not a single mark on her. The florists however, is shut for the day.

Steve bangs on the door, peering through the glass. It’s dark inside, but there’s some light shining through that little door in the back. Steve knocks on the glass again, and eventually Chrissy appears. She unlocks the door, immediately telling Steve, “he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Kid, can I go?” Hopper calls from where he’s half tucked the truck out of the way.

“Yeah,” Steve waves him off, turning back to Chrissy, “I need to apologize to him. Please.”

She scowls and makes a vague humphing noise at him, “fine,” Steve slips awkwardly through the gap Chrissy allows him, and once in she locks the door behind him. Steve follows her into the shop, “Eddie, I’m putting some stuff in the car out back, you come get me if you need me, okay?”

Steve comes around the doorway to see Eddie nodding sadly, he’s sitting in what must be their tiny break room. There’s two chairs and a beat up Formica top table, a little electric kettle on top of a under counter refrigerator. Eddie’s got a scrunched up wad of tissues in his hand where he’s clearly been crying.

“Hi Eddie,” Eddie fiddles with his tissues and keeps his eyes on his knees, not looking at Steve, so he pulls up the other chair, “I’m really sorry.” Eddie nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“I just,” Steve sighs, rubbing at his face roughly, “I did get scared okay? But I shouldn’t have...I should have just explained, I shouldn’t have shouted.”

Eddie nods, shredding the tissue, “I sorry too.”

“It’s...not you're fault. Not really. I just...Eddie, your teeth are really sharp you know, and my dick is...my dick. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, okay, I know that but…”

“Chri-” Eddie bites it back, and stops speaking again.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that too. It’s good you have a friend okay? It’s good she’s...teaching you things I haven’t thought of. It’s…you can talk about Chrissy, it’s fine.”

“Chrissy say...no people should do anything they don’t want to. Especially with sex stuff...so Eddie a bit wrong,” he sniffles, “but she help me dig hole anyway.”

“What hole?”

“For your body. Dead soon, but that...kind of funny joke?”

Eddie says it in a way that means he did not find it funny at all, and Steve snorts a laugh, “yeah. Yeah, she’s a good friend.”

They sit in silence for another minute before Steve offers, “you did a really good job of parking the car...do you want to drive me home?”

“Yeah,” Eddie stands, and so does Steve, and then they both move in for a hug at the same time, Eddie desperately throwing his arms around Steve's shoulders and holding him as tight as he can.

Steve swears to himself he’s going to do better with this stuff, and lets himself nose at Eddie’s ear, his skin tickled by Eddie’s new curls.

Eddie answers the phone, “Harrington residence,” he says carefully.

Steve watches him frown for a second, before he says, “yes, wait please,” and then offers the phone to Steve, “doctors.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Steve takes the phone, confirming his address and date of birth, before the lady tells him his test results are ready to pick up.

He hangs up, and Eddie’s there, offering him a pen, “that your birthday?”

“I- yeah. Yeah it was.”

Eddie nods, “should be on calendar before, Stevie,” Eddie admonishes gently.

“Okay, I’ll do it now, and then we can go get my results, okay?”

Eddie nods, “no more condoms,” he says solemnly.

Steve snorts a startled laugh.

There’s a frantic banging on the front door, then the bell rings. The bell rings again before Steve can even clamber up off the couch. It’s Eddie and Chrissy, and they hustle into the house before Steve even has the door all the way open.

Steve’s already alarmed, he isn’t due to pick Eddie up for another hour at least, and Chrissy wouldn’t just close the store unless it was an emergency.

“What happened?”

“There was a man,” Chrissy explains a little breathless, “Eddie hid behind the counter the second he saw him, and I’m sure he didn’t see Eddie, I’m sure. But he was asking questions. If a young man worked at the store, weird things about Starcourt. I just kept telling him no Steve but- he’s definitely looking for Eddie.”

Steve feels a mounting sense of dread as she speaks, “Eddie, did you know him?”

Eddie nods, looking frightened, “Starcourt. When I was in tank.”

“Tank?” Chrissy pulls a face, “what tank?”

“Uhm,” Steve suddenly realizes that Chrissy maybe shouldn’t be here for this part, Steve definitely needs to call Hopper, “Chrissy, thank you, but maybe you should go-”

“Absolutely not. Not if Eddie’s in trouble-”

“Okay, but the thing is-”

“Steve.” Chrissy huffs, “I know, okay?”

“You know...what?”

“I don’t know!” She flails a little, “I don’t know what I don’t know! But I do know that Eddie had never heard of the moon landing! He didn’t know that the guy on the five dollars is Abraham Lincoln! He didn’t know that other languages exist and he certainly can’t speak anything other than English even though, according to you,” she pokes Steve in the chest, “he should be able to speak Finnish! And he can’t!”

She’s getting worked up now, and Steve finds himself taking a step back, his hands up in defeat. For a tiny cheerleader, Chrissy’s kind of scary.

“He can find one bug in a delivery of a hundred stems Steve! And do you know how, he told me he can hear them! Hear them! I’ve watched him trim anything from daises to roses to full on sunflowers with his thumbnails Steve! He can cut baler twine with them. And don’t get me started on the florist wire, do you know what he does with that? He just straight up fucking bites through it!” Chrissy gets louder and pinker the longer she rants.

“He came to work with a mashed potato sandwich, like that's normal!! His tears are fucking brown! Brown! Those fingernails, that’s not polish, they’ve never been chipped, not once, they just grow that way, right? And I might be a blonde cheerleader but I am not stupid. So no. Okay, no. I don’t know what Eddie is. But I do know he’s my godamn best friend and if he’s in trouble, I want to help, okay?”

She’s all bright eyed and kind of breathless, and just a little terrifying. Eddie’s got his hands up in front of himself, nervously pulling at the threads of his cuffs, eyes big and worried as they slide back and forth between Steve and Chrissy.

Steve sighs, “okay. Okay. We can explain, but I just...I need to make a call first.”

Part TwentyEight

[moosesarecute]

December 6th

December Masterlist

Masterlist

Azriel’s letters to Y/N:

I think therapy is helping a little.

I thought about you yesterday without crying. Do you remember our first dance? Not our first as a couple, but our first one ever?

Sneaking around in the woods behind Windhaven and dancing to the song from the shadows swirling around us. Our feet making the snow crunch beneath us.

If only the bond had snapped earlier or if I was just a little braver. I would have danced with you every moment I could.

Annette waited, and waited, and then waited a little longer. She needed to know everyone had gone to bed.

After it had gone 30 minutes since the last member of her family went to bed, she decided to go for it.

She had been anxiously wating the entire day. She had been planning what to bring, but other than that, it was a poorly planned adventure.

Making sure to be as quiet as possible, she packed a small backpack she had found in the bottom of her closet. In it she put a thick sweater, some snacks and a bottle of water. She made sure to dress up in all her warm clothes and made her way to the library.

Before she went on her adventure she put two books in her backpack. The one about the Winter Lights and the one about the different kinds of fae that stood right before the doorknob.

Knowing the door would squeak, she decided to open it quickly to make the noise last as shortly as possible. Once more her face was hit by fresh air and the smell of ocean. It felt like it lightened her entire head. It felt so refreshing. Annette couldn’t find any other word to explain it by than safe. It was comforting and safe to be outside.

She took a deep breath as she walked to the first of the three stone steps and closed the door behind her. She walked down the next two steps and as she heard almost frozen gras crunching beneath her feet.

Annette saw ocean in the distance, she saw trees and mountains. Even though it was mostly dark, the light from the moon showed her a path. It was guiding her, and she went where it wanted her to go.

Without looking back, Annette walked further into the forest.

Annette felt like she had walked forever, but she wasn’t tired. She felt good. The tiredness in her legs felt nice. She had stopped and sat down on a tree stump to eat her snacks and drink some water.

She had touched every tree she walked past and said hi to every bird or stone or river she saw. Everything felt so alive. It impressed her.

She had walked through the entire night and as the sun started to rise in the horizon, she realized she ought to make her way back to her family before they realized she was gone.

She turned around, but the moonlit path she had been walking until now, suddenly seemed gone. It was like they didn’t want her to go back. She pushed back the feeling that something was wrong and started to make her way back.

That’s when it started. The pain.

Cramps spread through her chest. The further she walked, the worse and more often they became.

Annette started to become afraid as she realized that she hadn’t taken her medicine the last couple of days.

She felt so stupid. How could she leave the house, without permission and not remember to take her medicine? If something went wrong now, they definitely would not let her out again.

However, she didn’t manage to think long about it before the pain became too unbearable. It was like something in her chest was screaming. Screaming for her to come back. To come home.

Where did it want her to go?

Annette sat down on the ground and not even seconds later, her body slumped, and she ended up passing out in the middle of the forest.

 “I’m not doing that,” Azriel told Jonathan.

This was going too far. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He didn’t want to.

“Writing about her in past tense might help your mind understand that she’s truly gone.”

Jonathan had read his letters and pointed out the fact that he sometimes wrote about you in the present tense. Wrote as if you were here with him.

Azriel shook his head. He couldn’t admit that you were gone. You weren’t gone. Not to him. You were still alive. In his heart, you were still alive.

“Taking these steps in the beginning is very hard,” Jonathan said. “However, after a while it becomes easier and easier. Eventually, you’ll take just as big steps on a daily basis, without it feeling too hard.”

“I can’t,” Azriel said.

“What if we write one together?” Jonathan suggested.

Azriel only shook his head once more. It felt like the only thing he could to. The suggestion left him almost paralyzed.

“That’s okay. We’ll try again another day.”

Azriel stood up from the sofa and made his way out of the room. As he walked out, snow and wind were the first to greet him.

He flew up to the House of Wind and went straight to the training ring.

This was the first time he left therapy feeling heavier than when he entered. He felt like he needed a hug. He needed someone to say that everything would be okay. To explain to him that the pain would go over.

He punched the dummy.

You were the person that always held and comforted him. You would hold him and stroke his face.

He punched it once more.

You would kiss his forehead and his hands.

Azriel didn’t notice his shadows covering him and the training ring in blackness. He didn’t feel the difference. His entire mind and soul felt heavy and black.

He kicked the dummy, and he then slumped down onto the ground.

“Please,” he cried out. Tears were streaming down his face. “Please, Y/N. Just come back to me.”

He did however notice when his shadows abruptly stopped moving. He felt it in his entire body.

“Azriel?” he heard a voice. It sounded like it was far away.

But he couldn’t care less about the voice. He only cared about the feeling in his chest. The extreme feeling that filled his entire chest.

He let out a shaky breath.

The feeling was so overwhelming it almost felt painful. It was painful, but at the same time not. It was screaming at him.

“Get her home,” it told him.

It was the bond. He was sure of it.

But then it disappeared and Azriel has never felt as empty as he did in that moment.

His ears started to ring and just as Cassian sat down beside him, he passed out.

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites @hailqueenconquer @onebadassunicorn

Let me know if you want to be added!

Dividers by @issysh3ll

[darnell-la]

𝗔 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗬 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ)

pairing: the worst!logan howlett x wade’s goddaughter!reader

warning: ghosted, crying, mention of alcohol, Wade getting mad, fighting another mutant, SEXUAL ASSAULT, etc.

summary: Logan tried ignoring y/n, afraid something would happen to her like the rest of the people he cared about. That was until Wade told him about the man she was afraid of. The man who would do anything to hurt her.

After seeing the sight before him when he went to get y/n, he was crushed. That man needed to die, and Logan was going to make that happen.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

Logan has been away for thirty minutes, thinking about what he just got himself into, and what he’s gotten y/n into.

He truly believes that he is cursed and there’s no saving him. Even if he was cursed, it was just the devil's luck that everyone he loved died. Karma is also on the way for what he’s done.

He didn’t want you y/n to know what kind of person he was, even though that was just a one-time thing. He didn’t mean it, but he was just so angry. They killed his family, and he wasn’t just going to walk away.

Logan slowly got out of bed so he wouldn’t wake y/n up. He wanted her to get a good rest before she started her day.

Logan looked around the room until he found a mirror. He slowly walked up to it, getting a look of himself. He hasn’t looked at himself in the mirror since that day. He couldn’t deal with it.

He scanned his body, surprised at the work he’s got on him, even though he hadn’t gone to work until Wade picked him up.

The man smiled to himself, feeling great that he could look good for someone like someone. At her age, she might not want a sloppy Joe. She’d want a Logan Howlett, old but can fuck her on the wall.

The man soon stopped himself, feeling like he was smiling too early. What if y/n just wanted a one-night stand? What if the Wolverine she was crushing on is way different than him?

Does he deserve to settle down? Would the people's family members he’s killed accept this? Would you accept what he did?

Logan’s thoughts were all over the place. He could stay here. The man quickly put his clothes back on and left, making sure she didn’t wake up to the sight of him leaving.

A couple hours later, y/n woke up. She had almost forgotten what happened last night until she felt the dent right next to her, in her mattress.

Y/n smiled to herself, already missing his presence. He was so good at what he did. She felt safer than she’d ever felt. He truly is a hero.

It’s been a week since Logan has talked to y/n. Wade had given him a flip phone a few days ago with his hand y/n’s number in it for emergency contact, but he never reached out. Y/n did, but he hung up. He didn’t ignore it, he hung up.

Every day when y/n woke up, she looked straight at her phone, hoping Logan had texted or something, but he never did. Her smiles always faded and stayed faded for the rest of the day.

“Are you going to Max’s party tonight or no? I know you two don’t really — get along,” Y/n’s friend asked after she sat down at the cafeteria table she always sits at.

“Don’t want to, but I might have to,” she said, knowing Max would text her about it later today. “Why have to?” Carla, her friend asked, making y/n snap out of her memories of her and him.

“Oh, nothing, just- Because I want to party,” y/n switched how she presented herself so she wouldn't alarm her friend. She didn’t want anyone to worry. This was her problem. No one else.

Skip to the nighttime, y/n had gotten a text from Max, demanding her to show up at the party. She wanted to argue and tell him she was not coming, but she knew what would happen if she didn’t.

She’s exposed her, and while he did, he’d take whatever else he wanted from her. He was evil, but she was the only one who knew that.

As y/n got dressed, she got a call. She jumped on her bed to see who it was, hoping it was Logan, but it wasn’t. It was Wade. “Fuckin’ hell,” she sighed.

“What, Wade?” Y/n asked, annoyed. “So, how have you been?” Wade asked, starting a boring conversation, so y/n put him on speaker and continued. “Same old, Wade. What do you want?” She asked, making him giggle.

“Wanted to ask how you and Logan get along. Kinda needa make him some new friend, ain’t that right, peanut?” Wade talked to the man like a puppy.

“Wait, he’s with you? A-Are you on speaker?” She asked, feeling her heart pound. “No, of course not. Privacy matters,” the man spoke as he winked at Logan, totally on speaker.

“Oh, well — I don’t think me and him are going to work. Like friend wise,” y/n said. She wanted to be more than friends, but he ghosted her after they had sex. The best sex she’s had in her life. She can’t put that all behind her.

“What!? Why!?” He asked as Logan stood up quickly, wanting to say something, but Wade stopped him. “I-I don’t know,” y/n lied and Wade knew it. He hoped the man didn’t yell at her or make her cry.

“Look- I gotta go to a party, so, uh, please just- Don’t try to fix my life,” y/n said. “What are you talking about? Wait- Are you going over to his house again!? Y/n, we talked about this,” Wade got serious, and Logan has never seen that from him.

“You know him, Wade. I-If I don’t go, he’ll tell everyone and then I can’t live a normal life. That’s all I want. A normal life,” y/n’s eyes began to burn.

“It’s 2024, y/n — People will accept-“ Wade tried saying. “No, they won’t!” She yelled. Wade could hear the change in her tone, so he let it go. “I-I’ll call later,” she said before she hung up.

“The fuck was that about?” Logan asked. “It’s a long story that I can’t tell,” Wade said as he leaned back on the couch. “What!? But you had her on speaker when you told her she wasn’t. What’s the big deal about telling me when she’s not even here?”

“Look- It’s different, peanut. My baby girl has been through a lot, and it’s not to easy make this guy go away,” Wade grabbed the remote to his TV to turn it on and watch some kind of cartoon.

“Woah, and — The fuck did you do to make her not wanna be friends? God, you’re so fuckin’ hard to deal with. Always lashing out like the big ole beast you are,” Wade rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t do anything — I just left before I could hurt her,” he said. “What?” Wade looked up at the man who was standing in front of him. He was confused until it finally dinged in his head.

“Y’all fucked!?” Wade jumped on his couch as he shouted. “Oh god,” Logan rolled his eyes as he walked back to the small couch he’s always on and flopped down.

“You do! You dirty little gribble. God fuckin- Fuck! You’re a fuckin’ dumbass,” Wade couldn’t stop rambling. “Heard that before,” Logan said as he grabbed his half-empty beer before chugging it down, thinking about how much of an asshole he is.

“You can’t just fuck a girl- Especially a college girl, then leave! You like- Dude, you broke her heart!” Wade grabbed his head, stressed that Logan could fuck up this bad.

“Well, clearly I didn’t even she was heading over to another man’s house that she’s clearly not supposed to be with,” he was jealous. Once she mentioned a dude, Logan’s blood boiled. She moved on so fast.

“You dumb bitch — He’s abusive! He’s making her go over there!” Wade yelled at the man. “What?” Logan asked as he placed his bottle down. “Why would she go over there if he’s abusive?”

“Oh, well maybe because he’s a mutant, and would kill her if she didn’t. Or expose her which I think she’d rather die than let people know she’s one too,” Wade said then covered his mouth. He fucked up.

“She’s a mutant?” Logan asked with a soft voice. One of his worries was that she’d never understand him, or die years before he would somehow grow old.

“Fuck it, let’s go. I got the Wolverine now so we have a ninety-nine point ninety percent of winning, but that point 1 percent can fuck us,”

Wade and Logan quickly rushed out of the apartment and rushed over to Max’s house, not knowing there was going to be a huge party.

“Who the fuck is this kid?” Logan asked as they got out of Wade’s car. “He ain’t no kid — Bro has been awhile for almost as long as you. He just looks like he’s in his late twenties,”

“He’s a strong mutant or what?” Logan asked, not really caring what he was. He was still going to kill him for doing the things Wade told him he’d done. He’s sick.

Wade told the story of how y/n came back up bleeding everywhere. Even from her legs. The sick man has been trying to trap her with kids for the past couple of years after he found out she was a mutant himself.

He wanted to rule, and he needed a family to do that. Y/n was one of the strongest mutants he’s seen, and he’s one of the strongest mutants Y/n has seen. She’s too afraid to fight him. He made sure of that.

“You call y/n?” Logan asked as he pulled his flip phone out. “Yeah, but she’s not answering,” Wade said as the two walked towards the home and inside, ears instantly ringing from how loud the music was. “She ain’t answering me either,” Logan said.

Y/n was currently in Max’s room, laid out and drugged. Some days he’d want a fight while the others, he just wanted it to be relaxing.

Y/n could barely move, but she could see everything clearly. Even though her head was spinning, she could see Logan calling her phone.

It was so close. Her hands were so close to it, but her body was weak.

“Who’s this?” Max asked as he picked up her phone, making her sigh. “Hm?” he turned the phone to her face, showing the calling picture being Logan when he was knocked out the night that had sex.

“No one,” y/n got out with a struggle. “No one, huh? Well, that looks like the Wolverine, and last time I checked, he died,” Max said before he hung up and tossed her phone to the side.

“Don’t make me ask again, y/n,” Max threatened as he looked down at her. “N-No one,” she said, not wanting to put Logan in danger after he clearly wanted nothing to do with her.

Max laughed low as he took his shirt off and leaned over her body, his waist coming up and between her legs to spread her enough for him.

“Once I find out who he is, I’m going to kill him — Slowly,” Max added as her head moved side to side, begging him not to. “And I see he’s shirtless — On your sheets, so I’m going to do all of it in front of you while I show him who you belong,”

Y/n sobbed at the thought of him hurting someone because of her, again. He was evil.

“She’s not down here,” Logan said, feeling his heart raise. “Upstairs,” Wade spoke before running up the stairs to search every single room. The house was big, but that was their least concern.

“Always so tight for me. You sure you don’t want this? If you just give in, we could have a perfect and happy family,” he was insane, and she wanted no part of it.

“Y/n!” Logan’s voice could be heard down the hall. Max looked up, knowing he’d heard that voice before. “Y/n!?” He yelled again, making Max look down at her with a smirk.

“So, that is the Wolverine? Fuuck, y/n — You really outdid yourself. You think getting with another mutant will keep him alive?” Max slapped the girl across her face before pulling out and throwing her off of his bed.

Y/n struggled but moved her panties back in place before curling up on the floor. She didn’t know what was going to happen. She couldn’t watch.

Max fixed himself up and looked at the door, waiting for it to burst open until it did. There he was — with a friend.

“Deadpool and the Wolverine — Well, isn’t this new,” Max said, but Logan wasn’t focused on him. The man was looking around for y/n until his eyes landed on her. She was in her bra and panties. What Wade said was right…

“You young son of a bitch,” Logan had charged at him, and though Max hasn’t gone against a mutant like Logan, he was lasting a long time. A little too long which scared y/n.

“Let’s get outta here,” Wade picked y/n up to her feet but she instantly fell down. “Fuck- Did he drug you?” He asked and earned a nod. “Fuck!” He said, about to pick her up until he was tackled.

Logan was on the ground, head spinning from the beating he just took from Max, but he wasn’t done. Logan went to charge at the man with his claws out until he saw y/n, still laid out on the floor.

“Y/n?” Logan ran up to the girl, quickly trying to pull her up. “We need to go,” he said but noticed her body was slumped. “He fuckin’ drugged you?” Logan asked, earning a nod just like Wade.

It took everything for Logan not to attack Max. He had other things to do, and Wade handled Max just fine for now with his jokes and fake yells.

Logan was able to sneak out without Max noticing. Some people at the party looked at the man carrying her but paid no attention to it. They only double-checked because she was half-naked.

He made it out of the party and into Wade’s car. He was thinking about driving off until Wade was thrown through the third-floor glass, right next to the car.

“God- Fuck! Fuck, that motherfuckers strong,” Wade groaned as he got up, cracking his leg and arms back in the right spot. He looked to the side to see Logan and y/n lying in the back of his car.

“Get on the car motherfucker!” Logan yelled on the driver's side right before Wade jumped through the passenger side window that was rolled down.

As Logan stomped on the metal and took off, he looked back seeing Max standing in his room that he threw Wade out of.

Y/n was currently sound asleep next to Logan. They’re back at Wade’s apartment. Logan had taken her to bed so she could rest. She didn’t need to go to school tomorrow. He didn’t want her out anywhere until they dealt with Max.

“Next time we see him, we end him,” Logan said, laying on his bed and looking up at Wade who was standing in the door frame. Wade came to say the same. Y/n didn’t need to live a life like this just to be normal.

“All he is, is you without the claws. He regenerates, is fast, grunts a lot, and growls,” Wade had to say something funny. “If we give him around all, we’ve got a chance,”

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

[wisteria-lodge]

If you're comfortable answering, how do you think JKR intended Draco to come across, and how did he actually come across in your mind?

I think Draco was intended to come off as a weak and kind of pathetic bully. The Dudley Dursley of the Wizarding World. 

That’s how we’re introduced to him: “Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.” Almost he first thing we hear Draco say is the very Dudley-ish -  “I'm going to drag [my parents] off to look at racing brooms... I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Later books re-contextualize this as a brag - he is not actually able to bully his father into buying him presents, and instead of Dudley's tantrums Draco likes to embellish things in order to seem more impressive and get the result he wants. But initially, I think Draco = Dudley. They both dislike people who are different, dislike Harry for being more special (and because they’ve been given tacit permission to bully him...)They’re spoiled by their parents. They’re even both platinum blonde. 

JKR loves the idea of an antagonist who realizes that they were wrong and *you were right* a little too late, and then has no choice but to punish themselves. (Basically the entire deal with Snape.) So - Draco and Dudley get some of that treatment too. After Dudley meets the dementor he breaks down, has a moment where he leaves Harry a cup of tea, and another where he says “I don’t think you’re a waste of space.” BUT Dudley’s initial breakdown is framed as pathetic (even a touch comedic.)The tea he leaves outside Harry’s door has gone cold, and when Harry steps in it he initially thinks it’s a dumb prank. Dudley says “I don’t think you’re a waste of space” only in response to a comment Harry makes. Hestia Jones is super unimpressed, and thinks Dudley should be doing more. 

Like, JKR is aware that it’s not *completely* Dudley‘s fault he’s like that. Dumbledore comments on the “appalling damage [Vernon and Petunia] have inflicted on the unfortunate boy sitting between you.” But the damage is still done, and Dudley is meant to be seen as a figure of pity. All this is supposed to read as ‘too little, too late.’ If Dudley were less of a coward, a stronger person, a better person, he would’ve brought Harry the tea directly. 

Now let’s look at Draco, who is given some *very* similar beats. We see him crying in the bathroom, comforted by Myrtle (a comedic character) very similarly to how Dudley basically goes into shock after the dementor. Draco and Dudley are both framed as weak, but able to see the error of their ways, and their breakdowns set up an important plot/character moment for Harry.

Draco’s little “I can’t— I can’t be sure,” when he’s asked to identify Harry at Malfoy Manor is another beat of ‘too little, too late.’ Harry takes Draco’s wand a few minutes later (absolutely castration imagery - just look at how the text treats Lucius losing his wand) and then Dobby shows up to low-key shame Draco by doing the job that he [narratively] was supposed to have done: rescuing Harry and friends, probably dying in the process. I do think that’s how we’re supposed to read that scene. And then Harry gets these very similar selfless beats of saving Dudley (from dementors) and saving Draco (from fiendfyre.) That’s why JKR is so baffled when people like Draco, think he’s attractive, or ship him with Hermione. It’d be like shipping her with Dudley, it doesn’t make sense.

But a couple things went “wrong” when Draco was released into the world. For one thing, I think a lot of people saw his more indirect underhanded approach (he likes rumors, smear campaigns, blackmail, poison, sneaky back entrances, tricking/provoking Harry into breaking rules) as evidence that he's clever, and not that he’s a cowardly, spineless little weasel.

Then because JKR is committed to making Draco look ineffectual and comedic, she also makes him… not that bad? Most of his bad behavior goes down between books 1 and 3, and I’m sorry - when you’re 12 your politics are your parents' politics. You are not not responsible for that. By the end of the series Draco’s politics *have* changed, pretty drastically, and they changed under challenging circumstances.

I also think JKR accidentally gave him a better relationship with his father than she meant to? Jason Isaacs plays Lucius Malfoy as cold, I could see him being a *bit* of a bully when it comes to Draco -  but in the book, they go on outings, Draco complains to his father, Lucius is patient with him, gives him advice, sets boundaries, sends him little newspaper clippings in the mail. Lucius and Narcissa are running around without wands during the Battle of Hogwarts looking for him, and it’s supposed to be like “here are the Malfoys defanged.” But it's just a sweet moment. And if you’re positioning Draco as a romantic lead, then yeah I’d say that “good relationship with his parents” is an attractive trait.

The movie also did Draco Malfoy a HUGE favor by saying that yes, he absolutely does have the Dark Mark. That is never confirmed in the book. You can make the case that he doesn’t have it, and he’s doing what he does and embellishing the truth to seem more impressive. Hermione doesn’t think he has it. Ron says “I still don’t reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join.” If he doesn’t have the Dark Mark, Draco gets to stay a semi-pathetic minor villain. But the second he does have it… well now you have someone who was given this tattoo/brand thing the *moment* he turned 16 (Draco has a June birthday) and now is 100% stuck. He is on a magical leash to Voldemort. He can’t run, can’t hide. All he can do is ride out this thing as best he can, and hope it doesn’t kill him or his parents. That’s a much more sympathetic character.

And my last thing, about the moment where he lies for Harry in Malfoy Manor (movies frame it as 100% a lie, books keep it more ambiguous)... is I don’t think J. K. Rowling realizes that Draco is the first person in the entire 7th book who helps Harry, at all. Molly Weasley is actively sabotaging the Golden Trio's planning by splitting them up and making them do wedding chores. Xenophilius Lovegood betrays them, Bathilda Bagshot betrays them, Rufus Scrimgeor is no help, Remus Lupin needs *their* help, Dumbledore gave them a series of maddening riddles. Snape gives them a weird puzzle to solve (also he’s very much acting under Dumbledore’s orders…) So when Draco DOES put himself on the line to buy them a few minutes, it makes for a pretty striking moment. He also keeps to this lie even when Lucius tells him not to, he lies to Bellatrix, he is almost certainly going to have to repeat this lie to Voldemort, who can read minds… 

So I think most fans look at Draco and see someone who is arrogant, a little bit of a shit, but is also sensitive, clever, emotional, nonviolent. (He’s definitely got a little bit of boy band non-threatening sexuality going on.) Draco will go out on a limb for the people he loves, and he comes through when it counts. There’s a survivor-mentality practicality to him, which is especially appealing in a series where so many characters are so willing to martyr themselves.

[afterglowkatie]

leaving | v.m.

vivianne miedema x reader (platonic) | 1.1k | you don't want viv to leave

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pair of pests universe. i had an ask on tiny's thoughts on viv leaving so i got the idea to write a little fic about it. part of my kcc x catley!reader universe but it's just tiny and viv that's all :) hope you still enjoy it! :)

The last match of the season. You always had mixed feelings when it came to this, but this season, especially after recent news, you were dreading this day to come. But you made sure to make every second of that day, of that match matter. You were present, you showed up even after you thought maybe pretending to be sick would mean you wouldn’t have to face today. 

Though knowing neither Steph or Kyra would let you make up a horrible excuse and they’d drag you out of the apartment if they really had to. If today felt hard for you, you couldn’t imagine how Viv or Beth would be feeling and for them you put a smile on your face and tried to make the day the best possible last match of the season. 

During the warm ups before the match you made sure to annoy Viv a little bit extra today. Keeping everything lighthearted so no one had to remember how heavy the day was going to feel later on. The match was one to remember, for you and for the others. If you tried harder you would’ve forgotten that it was Viv’s last match with you at Arsenal, and if you tried harder to forget then you wouldn’t have teared up celebrating her goal with Viv and the rest of the girls on the pitch at the time. 

You wanted nothing more than to feel like today was just any other match, just a normal match during the season. No matter how hard you tried to make it feel like that, it never did feel that way. Your heart dropped when the final whistles went, indicating the match was over. You knew what was coming and you didn’t know how you were going to get through the next hour or so.

You weren’t the kind of person that really enjoyed showing how you were feeling, especially if you were feeling sad or upset. So you tried to push it all down, being there for your teammates and friends who were all feeling a lot of emotions at their longtime teammate and friend who was leaving the club.

Not a lot of your teammates really understood how deep your friendship with Viv was. Mostly seen as just another teammate you could annoy and cause havoc towards, just like most of the others. But you, and Viv, knew it was a deeper bond than just that. Over the season Viv had become someone that gave you a quiet and safe space when everything and everyone was just a bit too much for you. 

Of course you had Steph and Kyra, your national teammates both at Arsenal and the ones who lived in London that offered you that kind of support. But confiding in Viv was different, it always felt easier to let down your walls around her. You’d grown quite close, so naturally it was hitting you hard to see your friend not have a choice but to leave.

After the match, it all felt like a blur, you weren’t sure you were really mentally present for everything. One thing you knew for sure, was that you were purposefully  avoiding Viv. The theory that if you didn’t acknowledge it, then it wasn’t going to happen. You hung back while everyone was getting their little goodbyes with Viv on the pitch, eventually making your way into the changing rooms. 

With everyone still out on the pitch, the changing rooms were empty, giving you the best place to sit with your thoughts. Your lack of presence was noticed but before anyone could make the move to find you or to check on you, Viv was already making her way to where she knew you would be.

‘Knew I’d find you here,’ The moment you didn’t want, was now here. You had to confront it all eventually, but a part of you hoped that it never came. Looking at Viv you gave her a small smile, leaning your head on her shoulder once she had sat next to you.

The two of you sat in silence for a little while, it wasn’t uncomfortable but there was a sense of heaviness to the air that surrounded you, ‘I’m going to miss you,’ Your voice was small, something only selected people would ever experience hearing from you, ‘Do you really have to leave?’ You had a slight pout, you knew the answer, you knew it was out of her control really, but none of that helped.

‘I wish I wasn’t leaving. I’m going to miss you too, everyone here as well, but you more than some of the others,’ You shook your head a little, you were just you and Viv knew a lot of people greater than you so she couldn’t possibly miss you more. 

‘You’re just trying to make me feel better,’ These are the kind of moments that you will miss with not having Viv around next season. When you came to Arsenal you never thought you’d have a friendship like this, a connection like this. It was a lot different to your other teammates and friends. 

Neither was better or worse than the other, you honestly couldn’t describe it. But with the matildas you were always either Steph’s sister, Kyra’s best friend or pest number two. It followed you somewhat at club, feeling like you always had to be a certain way to be liked. Rationally, you knew that wasn’t true but it was hard to let that all go. So it was nice when you made this friendship with Viv where you could just be you, no matter what that looked like. 

‘It’s true. I see a lot of myself in you. You’re going to do great things here and I’ll always be silently cheering you on, no matter where I am,’ Silence fell over the both of you, but it was different this time, the air was lighter. You were still feeling a lot, mostly anger at the club for being the reason this was happening. 

‘I’m going to miss this,’ There would never be enough times that you could say you were going to miss Viv and it still ever be enough to fully convey just how much that really was.

‘Just because I’m not going to be here doesn’t mean this will end, you know that right? Plus if I’m not anywhere close then Beth will always take you in if you need,’ You laughed a little at the last part, mainly the way Viv worded it and how it sounded to you.

‘I’m not a stray dog,’ You both laughed a little, though you looked up at Viv when you suddenly had the best idea pop into your brain. The cheeky grin that grew on your face would have anyone trying to stop whatever idea you were thinking about.

‘No,’ Viv already knew exactly what you were about to say and what you were thinking. It was the perfect plan in your mind, foolproof.

‘I’ll steal Myle and then you’ll be forced to still visit me,’ 

[kittyoncescribbled]

Check-Mate.

Summary: Mihawk thought he was too old to believe in silly things like love at first sight, but things change;

Word count: 2,453;

Rating/Content Warnings: PG-16, AFAB reader;

Author’s note: Hi, guys! This is my first time writing for Mihawk; he might be a little OOC, but I'm still trying to find my footing with him. Feedback would be deeply appreciated. Please reblog/like if you enjoy this!

Previous chapter || Next chapter

You stared down at your plate, trying not to look miserable.

Sanji had outdone himself once again and brought out a dinner that seemed more fit to a king — and you knew it, as you were now a fugitive princess who escaped an evil uncle who wanted to marry you off to any weak man who he could control and, by extension, keep his hold on the throne and power: more specifically, your power, as you had eaten a devil fruit and now has something similar to Midas’ touch. But looking down at the plate in front of you, you couldn't help but notice that it was beautiful, smelled delicious, and you were sure that it tasted heavenly… but it was different.

Not from most of the crew; your plate looked the exact same as the ones in front of Luffy, Usopp, or even Zoro. But Nami and Robin had plates adorned with flowers and beautifully placed garnishes in front of them. It was evident how much time, effort, and appreciation had gone into their presentations.

It was quite common at this point, and you took notice of it almost instantly. Sanji was the one who helped you escape after some of the servants in the castle tr, guiding you by the hand through the streets of your city — the streets you didn't know, as your uncle had kept you hiding inside the guarded walls of the castle since you were a young girl — and into the Thousand Sunny; you chose to go with the strawhats, and now there was a hefty bounty prize to whoever brought you back home alive.

And you couldn't help but fall head over heels for Sanji, the first person ever to show you kindness or to see you as a person, not just someone from the royal family or their entryway into fortune or power. And it was painful to see how differently he treated you when compared to the other girls on the crew or to any pretty woman from the islands you guys visited; you could never accuse Sanji of being rude or mean, but he just treated you the same way he treated the guys or Chopper, and you just sat there ruminating on why would that be — you weren't pretty enough, nice enough, feminine enough?

All of that went through your mind while you stared down at your plate, and you could see the looks from Nami, Usopp, and Robin; they all kind of knew how you felt about Sanji — not that you were able to hide it — and the sadness showing up in your eyes made them empathetic. But it's not like you had openly talked about it with them, so none of them felt comfortable asking you if you were okay.

“Sanji, why is YN's plate different?” Chopper asked sweetly. You felt the cook freeze on the spot and grabbed your fork and knife as if you didn't hear it. “What do you mean, Chopper?” “Well, Nami and Robin’s plates and drinks are always prettier and nicer because they're women, right? So why does Y/N get regular food like the rest of us?”

“It's okay, Chopper,” you said with a smile to the doctor. “It's fine. Sanji's cooking is the best with flowers or without, right?”

“Y-YN, m'sorry, let me take care of it and—” Sanji started, his face beet red, trying to get the plate back, but you grabbed his wrist, startling him. “Don't.”

Your tone was icy and harsh, as they had never heard before, and the shift in the room's atmosphere was noticeable; the tension could be cut with a knife. Embarrassed, you simply grabbed your plate and went back to your dorm, locking the door behind you.

It was now days later, and things were still weird between you and Sanji. Chopper had asked for your forgiveness, but you had repeatedly reassured him that there was nothing to be forgiven. You did your best to avoid Sanji and the others, choosing to spend most of your days on a little spot of the deck Franky had added some stuff for you: a chess table with magnetic pieces so they wouldn’t get knocked over by the constant movement of the boat and a telescope. You still did your chores and helped, but you chose to be in your quarters or play chess alone.

On that specific afternoon, you were doing laundry — the little laundry you had, as you were still a bit uncomfortable buying clothes for yourself, and your old clothes, all frilly lace and flowy dresses, weren’t fit for life in a pirate ship; Robin once chuckled and said that you, always wearing jeans and white button-ups, looked like a cartoon character and Nami had promised she’d take you out for a shopping spree on the next island with good shops — when a commotion started on the deck. Leaving your load of laundry behind, you grabbed your bow and ran to the deck.

Dracule Mihawk stood there like an exotic animal, and you, still holding your bow up, made your way until you were close to Robin. “So… there’s a Cross Guild member on our deck, and no one’s doing anything about it?”

“That’s Zoro’s mentor,” Robin explained with a small chuckle. “And he said there are things he needs to discuss with our captain.”

The small exchange between you and Robin caught Mihawk’s attention, and you froze in your place, unable to react under such an intense gaze. Lowering your weapon, you regained some of your spirit and stood straight, staring right back at his yellow eyes, not backing down when he made his way toward you.

“Your royal highness,” Mihawk said with a courtesy, and, out of habit more than anything else, you presented your hand, which he brought to his lips without ever breaking eye contact. In the corner of your eye, you could see Nami and Robin raising eyebrows and Zoro looking like he was about to combust, but none of that mattered. Luffy showed up on deck, and Mihawk slowly made his way to the captain. After a short exchange of words, Luffy guided the swordsman to somewhere where they could talk a bit more privately, and you relaxed, still next to Robin. From across the deck, Sanji stared at you fiercely and seemed to be biting his lips, but you simply turned your back and returned to your laundry.

Mihawk was far too old to believe in love at first sight, or at least that is what he thought.

He had his fair share of lovers throughout the years, but those were just flings; someone to scratch the itch, if you will. Nothing ever lasted for more than a couple of weeks, and he never bothered to make it last. He was quite content with that, as he very much enjoyed the silence and peace in his life, especially now that neither Zoro nor Perona were there to cause a stir, but he had felt intrigued by you ever since he had read about your escape on the paper; coincidentally he had matters to discuss with Luffy, so he could take a good look on your, and take a good look he did.

Even in regular clothing that seemed too plain for you, you still seemed regal — it was something in your posture and how you held your head high. If you thought he looked out of place as an exotic bird, Mihawk could say the same about you; he could read in your body language that you still felt out of your element — like when you were holding your bow, much more like someone used to hunt for sport than to be in the middle of battle shooting arrows at enemies. The pictures in the papers or wanted posters did you no justice, as they couldn’t capture the expression of longing and sadness in your eyes or the way you bit your lips, unsure of what to do next.

As much as Mihwak would have adored spending more time admiring you, he was there on business, so he excused himself and retreated to discuss some important topics with Luffy. 

And even though he couldn't deny that he looked for you the same way a moth looked for a flame, Mihawk pushed the “love of first sight” idea to the back of his mind. Attraction, definitely; infatuation, maybe. But love?

That wasn’t a possibility.

He wasn't expecting to see you alone on deck when he was preparing to leave. Enjoying the sunshine, you sat in front of a game of chess, seemingly trying to understand what the next move would be. Without making a sound, Mihawk walked until he was standing behind you, and, without saying a word, he reached his arm and moved one of the white bishops.

Startled, you turned over on your chair and looked up at the swordsman. “That was the best next move. What to do next?” he asked, looking attentively into your eyes. You stuttered for a moment, eyes darting everywhere while trying to think of the right answer. “Come on, take your time, Your Royal Highness. There is no right or wrong answer here.” Mihawk said with a low chuckle while taking the seat directly in front of you and putting his sword down close to him.

“Yes, there is,” you retorted, holding your chin with one hand and tapping on the table with the other. “If I make the wrong move, that's a check. And there's no need to use titles here, please. Outside the realm, I'm not ‘royal highness’; I'm just Y/N.”

“As you wish, miss Y/L/N.” Mihawk felt very happy with himself when he saw a light blush creeping up your neck and ears. “But tell me, why would you be here by yourself?”

“My apologies, sir, but why are you sitting here, asking me this? You don't seem the type to enjoy small talk,” you asked uncertainly, not trying to be rude but genuinely intrigued.

“I am merely curious about you, miss Y/L/N. You're a runaway princess in a pirate ship with a crew famous for getting themselves in trouble. You are an interesting person, and I want to know more about you.” The tips of your ears turned into a brighter shade of red.

“Ah, there was a situation the other day. And I'm feeling a little embarrassed about it, so I’d much rather stay by myself.”

“Just… A situation?”

“Yeah, I’m not about to start sharing the owes of my pathetic love life with a man I don’t know,” she said with a bitter smile.

“Would it have something to do with the cook, who is over there looking like he wants to kick the lights out of me?” Y/N rolled her eyes and made her move on the chess board. “Just… ignore him. Whatever happened, it’s unimportant”.

Mihawk simply acquiesced and made his move on the chess board. Eventually, you two fell into a comfortable silence while playing. You kept your focus on the chess board, attentively studying and thinking about your next move, but Mihawk was studying you.

You were clearly not comfortable in your own skin yet; your clothes, as simple as they were, showed that you were not sure what style would suit you best or that you, under the thumb of your uncle from a young age, still had to figure out what clothes you liked best. Your hair, pulled back in a ponytail, probably reached your waist, but maybe you had no idea how to style it. You were someone being free for the first time in your life, 

“Would you like to drink something? I wouldn’t get you the boat fuel that Zoro likes to drink, but I do have some red wine in my cabin,” she asked tentatively. Mihawk nodded and watched as she walked away, groaning internally as the blond cook took her place. 

“What are you doing with Y/N?”

Mihawk stared down at the blond and tilted his head, feigning ignorance; you didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that had transpired between you and the cook, and he wasn’t one to be intrusive into others' personal lives. “Playing chess and having a glass of wine. Why?”

Sanji pressed his lips into a thin line, grabbing the chess board so hard his knuckles turned white. “You’re trying to flirt with her? Romance her? Get laid?”

“I am merely getting to know the lady. That’s all. She is quite a beautiful woman, though, and I believe that if something were to happen, she wouldn’t need to ask for permission from any of you. And I also believe this conversation is over,” Mihawk said with a voice smooth as silk, his hand gliding over his sword’s handle — a silent but powerful warning. Sanji looked in the direction of your steps, seeing you coming over with two glasses and a wine bottle.

He glanced at Mihawk, radiating rage, but got up and went back to the kitchen.

You took back your sit and poured over the wine for the both of you, completely ignoring Sanji and pretending you didn’t see him. With your wine glass in hand, you pulled your knee close to your chess and mulled over your next move. The two of you again fell under a silent spell, sipping on the wine you had brought out and waiting for the others' turn to be over. You tried your best not to stare but managed to steal a couple of glances at the warlord, still wondering why such a man would be spending his time at the deck of the Thousand Sunny, playing chess. It felt good to spend time with someone who didn’t look at you pitifully, though, and it had been a long time since you had a chess partner, so you weren’t going to complain. 

“Ah! Check-mate!” you said, triumphant, your lips parting in a bright smile while you picked the king from Mihawk’s side of the chessboard.

“Well done, miss Y/L/N,” Mihawk had a gentle look and something on his lips that, to someone who knew him quite well, could be considered a small smile. “I do have to go; I am afraid I might have overextended your crew’s generosity by overstaying, but after my discussion with your captain, it is my understanding that you will have to stop by my island. It would be my pleasure to have a rematch.” Mihawk stood up and, again, reached for your hand.

“Of course, sir,” you said as he kissed your knuckles before grabbing his things and leaving.

Sanji watched all of this from afar, seething.

[angsthology]

“YOU CAN’T DISAPPOINT A PICTURE” — or an alt title: roo vs. jenson to roo and jenson

from the freezing act and disappearing act to no choice not to act (do i know what i meant? absolutely not.)

a/n yarg hey this is set on 2022 and the rest of 2023, after the events of the great (coming not so soon but im workin on it)

THE KANGAROO VS. THE WORLD

2022

it was her first points. her first points... ever in formula one. she was on… a different kind of high. nothing was going to ruin that moment for her. nothing except one.

as of right now, she was not noticing anything else besides the man in front of her—and even that was debatable.

this time, it was her turn to be catatonic.

daniel, who was one of the blokes lucky enough to witness what was currently happening in front of him could not help but laugh, well, he was putting his entire life into not laughing. but, well, it was hard not to.

he’s—no one, has ever seen her like this before.

she was usually so… either kept to herself or an absolute menace. there was really no in-between. but one for sure thing she always is was functional, even is the function is cracked up to a hundred or zero. so to see her malfunctioning was way funny for daniel.

daniel, still giving his entire life not to laugh, answers the question for her, “of course, she will! right, kid?”

at that, her blubbering stopped and her attention was fixed on the australian—that had betrayed her.

her mind was still reeling in—half present and half out of it, “i—yea—huh?” she looked towards daniel for… anything.

he didn’t respond with anything else and pulled on her race suit that was now unzipped and collecting around her waist down, her top half showing off the crimson-red fireproofs she wore underneath.

her mind was going faster than an rb19 and the next thing she knew she was sitting in the middle of a very fine world champion she was so ready to risk everything for and… and daniel ricciardo.

she was so in her own world, she failed to notice the former calling out her name.

oh my god, he knows my name, she thought.

she cleared her throat, posture changing feigning ‘professionalism’, “what was that?”

“congratulations on scoring your first points today!”

she blinked. she knew what he said. she was just… processing.

truly, she didn’t know how or why it happened or even what had happened at all but she somehow ended up in a finger guns position pointing at her long-time celebrity crush.

she stayed at the end position for quite a while. besides the sound of the track and every other surroundings, it was quiet. jenson was too stunned to speak; roo was berating herself in her head absolutely throwing every curse word in her head—if anyone were to read her mind right now, they would start crying from all the screams and cries of her own stupidity. daniel—now, daniel on the other hand; was having the time of his life. the dam had broken and he was now clutching his stomach besides the girl laughing his ass off.

his—very loud, very distracting—laugh paused her inner turmoil at herself and directed all towards him. her eyes were void of any emotions and her entire look was unpredictable. she narrowed her eyes at the australian before quickly fisting her hand out to hit the man right where he was clutching it, making him grunt in shock and eventually drop to the ground groaning—his laugh somehow still straining behind.

still in pain, from both his laughter and the hit, daniel managed between discomfort, “oh—you’re good, man, you’re good.”

her eyes were still trained down to the rolling australian, giving him her deadliest-calmest glare later on slowly look up to meet jenson’s; completely freezing in her spot once more with eyes wider than max’s winning gap as if his stare was one of medusa’s.

later on, she found herself in the haas—they stopped trying to get rid of her eventually—hospitality with mick sitting on one of the chairs and herself pacing around the room talking his ear off.

“i hate daniel! i hate him! i told him a million times! i never wanted to meet jenson in person! i just wanted a picture! i hate him so much!” she whined, stomping around the room dramatically.

eventually she sat herself down next to mick. not knowing how else to respond, he extended his hand and giving her a few pats on the shoulder.

“you know, he’s probably was very happy to see you too.” he tries.

“don’t.”

he raised both his hands in surrender.

it was an interesting sight to see: britney spears walking and talking with snoopy in the paddocks.

“i just think he’s neat, you know.” she explained with a shrug.

the older man chuckled with a shake of his head, “you do know you’re talking about a cartoon dog, right?”

she gasped, “rude. he is the cartoon dog.” with a hand over her heart, she then continues, “he’s more than that! he’s a pilot, an icon, and most importantly; a best friend.” she paused, remembering a detail she forgot to mention, “—to woodstock. i don’t care about charlie brown, that kid’s an idiot.”

nico made a contemplating face, “you’re so mean to him why—”

she was about to reply until she was cut off by a british accent that made her entire blood run cold and paralyze her nerves, eyes widening slightly—position permanently cemented to the ground where her body jerked to a stop.

“oh, hey, jense!” he greeted back, turning his attention and entire body away to face the blonde getting closer.

to her dismay, he waved the world champion over.

(what is that—what the hell?! I’M SWEATING BULLETS LIKE A FUCKING WATERFALL.)

he was getting closer.

(FUCK!—what do i do?)

closer.

“yeah, i was just here talking to—” nico said as jenson was in easier earshot, his hands already motioning to his side. just as he turned around the moment the brit arrived by his side, he was met with dust. besides that, no other evidence showed there was once a girl in an alfa romeo racing suit next to him. “wha—kid?” he looked around, “where’d she go?”

jenson frowned slightly, “ah. sorry about that, mate. most likely my fault.”

nico turned to him confused, “what?”

he shrugged sadly, “i don’t know. that kid is like allergic to me i think—never got any chance to properly talk to her.”

again nico put his thinking face on and after a good few conversations with himself in his head, his face cracked up with a smile.

he slapped jenson’s back and rest his hand there—shocking him in the process—“believe me, she doesn’t.”

end of 2023

she. was. done.

finally.

this year was definitely not her year and she was glad it was over.

during their final debrief mick was her pillar; she was on her last set of batteries and was about to shut down, the entire time she had her head resting on his shoulder half-asleep. he didn’t complain, thankfully—surprisingly none of her team either.

after they declared dismissed, she was so ready to be hauled—by who, she didn’t really know. but man she wished—back to her bed—did not matter which one but whichever the closest was—and pass out until the next season starts.

unfortunately, it was not that easy yet for her.

the only people left in the room was her, porsche’s team principal, his assistant, her head engineer, and... mikey.

now that she really thinks about it, she doesn’t really know what it is mikey does.

“you look rough.” the man started. “not wearing any makeup today?” he asked genuinely. he knew how much makeup therapy usually improves her mood, which is why it made sense to him seeing her so—gone.

“i am wearing makeup.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

he motioned for her to take a seat, and so she did.

the air was… unreadable. usually it’s pretty light with them, they loved her and she loves them. maybe it was the lack of mick in the room?

she was so tired, she didn’t care for the thick silence in the room, opting to just break it herself.

“am i getting sacked? are you going to make me burn my own contract?”

she was getting dangerous. tired roo means her defense systems are losing charge—if she was a drinker, this would be a glimpse of her in an honest drunk state.

no one really stopped her so her mouth just kept moving, “i mean, i wouldn’t be surprised after the year i had i was kinda shit—i’d be pretty sad, though. i love you guys. i love you,” she looked at her engineer, “i love you,” she looked to her personal trainer, “i love you,” to her team principal. and last but not least, “and i love you.” she looked slightly up at her team principal’s assistant that stood behind him.

“oh good grief, when the hell is he getting here?” the man in the middle whispered under his breath as he rubbed his forehead, in the background the driver still mindlessly listing all the people she loves.

“and i love that guy who always has chocolate for me—oh wait that’s mick again.”

“just got a text from jackie says they’re close.” whispered back mikey.

as if on cue, right after mikey locked his phone, the door opens—thankfully—stopping roo’s listing, catching all of their attentions.

she was still yapping when she turned to the door but came to an abrupt stop when she sees the person who walks in.

the man waved.

“oh no, it’s jenson button.” she says flatly—at this point it was like she was drugged with truth serum; her words held no emotions or feelings whatsoever, but everyone was sure it was all genuine.

she was about to turn back to her team when with no warnings, no wind, no signs, she was hit with a tsunami—not even joking. the moment her head turned her face was splashed with a bucket of cold water.

so. so. cold.

oh that definitely woke her up.

“WHAT THE FU—”

as if she hadn’t had enough thrown at her, a towel was draped over her head before she can finishing cursing out her team. (one, to dry her up and two, to shut her up.)

emerging from under her towel, she looked towards the three culprits’, eyes going from jenson button at the front of the room and back to them, “in front of jenson button?!” she scolded in a whisper.

“it humanizes you,” explained her team principal shortly.

she quieted. sucked in a breath and stare at him flatly, “die.”

mateo—her team principal—was unfazed by it, opting to ignore her comment instead and continue with the business they had originally set up for.

“now that you’re awake,” he started.

“whatever.” she rolled her eyes.

ignoring her, mateo continues, “i’m going to put this in simple words you’ll understand.”

“why do you hate me?”

“i know you don’t like to talk about… whatever the hell this year was, but one thing for sure, we—” he motioned towards himself, mikey, and olivia (her head engineer), “—decided it’d be good for you to have a manager.”

she stayed silent, blinking her thoughts in until she found her words;

“and he is… your best candidate?” she asked stiffly motioning to the british driver that she’s sure can kill her with a stare.

mateo looked anywhere but anyone, slightly dodging the question. he shrugged, “well.”

“seriously?!” commented the world champion. he rolled his eyes and made way to sit on the chair next to hers, slightly making the hair on her arms rise. “look, kid, i know it’s probably going to be hard for you to even be in the same room with me—but i promise, i would not be doing this if i weren’t sure of you. you are one of the best talents i’ve seen in my life and i think i could help you reach a lot more good things.”

she took in his words and she’d be lying if hearing all those things coming out of his mouth didn’t give her a type of sensation—butterflies in her stomach, warmness in her heart, and the burning tears building behind her eyes—and a surge of courageous in her veins.

she smiled, “no, i think you’re right. and, i mean, i’m in the same room as you right now and i’m all fine.”

after that, papers were signed and deals were made, and to her; the rest was history.

(including all her previously embarrassing moments.)

princess (mick) HSAZGFKJSDGS YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE i js died oh my god what did i do

te1enoviyuh 🎵 Simple Minds • Don't You (Forget About Me)

liked by f1porsche, atticusingh, and 4,476,928 others

tagged: jensonbutton

te1enoviyuh mischief not managed zzz

see all 487 comments.

roomcgrittle CONSTABLE REGGIE

buttoncunt JENSON????? kid r u even alive still

dunphyrrari did u fall asleep typing the caption

te1enoviyuh dunphyrrari okay thats funny u deserve a notice

dunphyrrari te1enoviyuh I WON

f1porsche Watch out (the rest of) 2024 they’re coming for you. 😉

selvnika i thought *i* was your manager...

te1enoviyuh selvnika if anything IM your manager. your around the clock arounf the world babysitter

sargeantist selvnika now hold on... back tf UP. WDYM MANAGER??

schupastry sargeantist JUST STAY CALM DO NOT MAKW ANY ASSUMPTIONS.

disneyprincemuke im just here for the ride tbh

bonus

mateo sighs at his phone, his employee no better than before she had management.

“do you ever regret this? ‘cause i do. —kinda.” commented the unlucky woman known as her pr manager (jackie.)

“who thought this was a good idea, again?”

being the self-aware king himself; mikey immediately choked on his water and quickly made his escape.

anyone noticed a cameo? not proofread | taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra @woozarts crossed out means i cant tag u

[unproduciblesmackdown]

remembering a fun marble hornets trans wrights element throwback where i managed to show up for one of their first convention features & while this was ofc already [serious "hmm...Not Cis: me??"] occasions i wasn't yet out or anything like well time to suffer being known & perceived thusly....while i Was out by the same occasion the next year like well here i am again, different name, binder, no plans to give anyone any rundown about this thing, hope it goes smoothly anyways and/or i'm effectively giving a reintroduction anyhow even though i May have been up to more memorable things that last time....no conversations needed to be had, i think i had the impression i was recalled as the same person but it was an entirely chill time, just this as like an early and pretty unique Occasion of like, here's people who know me from In Person (and ig Kind of online, i also don't recall ever like distinctly linking said in person appearance to onlineness lol. it just may also have not been an unsolveable mystery or a mystery at all. but mostly in person, and that's the element i was focusing on anyways) and my showing up transly in person with a whole other name this time as the major difference really lol. like well hope this goes swimmingly....And It Did. and at some point not eons later ya boy tim with some cringe comp sincerety like oh let me make this post somewhere about how an epic element of being a known internet creator is meeting new & various people including explicitly the [mh fans are like exclusively The Gays. and then some unfiction posters] factor & i'm like lol well you're welcome. just doing my part. but fr that was neat like i'm glad to get chill indirect & direct trans validation from internet horror series contributors in that immediate period of coming out & having to sweat it like damn wasn't at this point last time around

[o-sachi]

Rose Colored Boy - Punk Rock Band AU

ଳ Punk Rock Band AU! Michael Kaiser Route - older brother's best friend ଳ tags; lead guitarist! kaiser, isagi's sis! reader, college au, fluff, afab reader, no y/n

Part One: Still Into You 5.7k words

There was something alluring about starting from a clean slate. Without any threads of the past holding you down, it makes it feel as if you could be anyone and that you could do anything. That’s exactly what this new chapter of your life has to offer. You were certain that college would be the ultimate turning point.

It’s not like you had any bad habits—unless being stuck in your safety bubble would be considered one. By all means, you were comfortable with how your life was. But whenever your brother showed you how fun his life at college was, your desire for the preconcerted way of living was slowly being chipped away. 

Perhaps the unconscious longing for a different—more thrilling life—was what determined you to change your ways. But then again, the past cannot be totally left behind. It’ll always find a way to worm itself in the present.

That worm in your life happened to be your brother’s little punk rock band.

Well… to be fair, they’re not as little as they used to be when they started in their high school years. You’ve heard the talk around the campus, but DEVOUR’s a pretty big deal now. And that’s exactly the problem. It would have been fine if it was just your brother—no way of avoiding him. But the rest of the band? You had history with them and it was highly likely that you’d have to encounter them A LOT.

Of course, there was also the thing about him.

Who would’ve known they would cause you more problems than one? When Yoichi dropped the bomb that you’d be staying with him at his studio apartment it already gave you a huge headache. But now that you were suffering the consequences of sleeping in the room next to their designated band practice location—this was more than a mere headache. It was a real fucking nightmare.

If Yoichi thought he could placate you by soundproofing the practice room, well, he’s dead wrong. You could still hear the music, though faintly. But the real issue was all the thumping. As a light sleeper, it was nothing short of torture for you. 

Although, it did come as a shock when the disturbance eventually died down. You were expecting them to go at it until the wee hours of the morning. But it was good to know that they still had some sense in them. Checking your phone on the nightstand, it was around 11 PM. Not too bad.

You close your eyes and let sleep overcome you. Lately, your dreams have been about college. Even your subconscious was brimming with excitement. Tonight was supposed to be one of those dream-filled-deep-sleep kind of nights. But not even an hour later, you were awoken in the worst way possible.

You were sure something made its way in your room because how else would you explain the thing that just slammed into you—knocking the fucking air outta your lungs? You didn’t even stir when the door open and closed. But as you looked to your side, you could make it out in the darkness—an unfamiliar figure lying next to you with an arm draped over you.

Of course, most people’s first instinct would be to scream. And boy, did you scream like a banshee. Unfortunately, your room wasn’t soundproofed so Yoichi, who’s room was next to yours, was alarmed. Your door swung open, letting the light from the common room filter into your darker one. Yoichi stood by the door, groggy and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, a bit too calmly for someone who just heard their sister scream bloody murder.

You wondered how he hasn’t noticed the hulking figure next to you until you realized that the sneaky bastard hid themself under the covers, blending in with the pillows. Now, how were you going to respond to his question? On one hand, you were fucking disoriented by the issue at hand. On another, it wouldn’t look good if you somehow had a person in your bed literally the first day you moved in.

You had your suspicions about who it might be, but even then, it was still a questionable position to be in.

“Uh… I think a cockroach landed on me or something,” you lied. Gulping down the guilt, you hoped that he’d go back to his room. Then, you felt a sharp poke to your side causing you to yelp.

Yoichi sighs, unamused. “Seriously. Do you want me to help you kill it or what?”

“No! No… um… I’ll be fine.” Poke. “Eurgh… I mean, sorry to wake you up.” Poke. Poke. Poke. You weren’t even sure why you were covering up for this annoying asshole. But whoever this was, they kept poking at your side, trying to elicit another reaction. Clearly, they were getting a kick out of messing with you. Jerk.

Your brother nods, displeased at waking up for nothing. “Weirdo. Alright, I’ll spray some insect killer in here tomorrow or something.”

With that, Yoichi was finally gone and so was your fear of getting caught. But there was still a pressing issue. Hearing the door click shut, you immediately stood up and stomped your way to the light switch. It took you a while to adjust to the sudden brightness. Things were blurry for a moment, but you were certain about what was right in front of you.

Oh… you were so damn sure who it was.

The tips of his hair were now colored and he had a massive tattoo that ran from his neck and down his arm. Sure, he was more muscular than the last time you saw him. But despite all that, you were sure. There was no mistaking that it was him.

Him. The thread of the past that threatened to hold you back. You couldn’t put a finger exactly on your relationship. Perhaps you were close before, but did those sentiments survive the test of time?

It was none other than (your sworn love of your life at the age of 12), Michael fucking Kaiser.

“So I’m a cockroach now huh?” At least the cocky smile of his hasn’t changed a bit. You’d know because you’ve seen it a million times before. It was the same kind of smile he’d have while teasing you all those years ago.

You crossed your arms, glaring at him for the stunt he pulled earlier. “You’re worse than a cockroach; that’s for sure.”

“You’re saying you’d rather sleep beside a roach than me?”

Yes, you answer in your head. But your honest answer will only serve to inflate his already gigantic ego. “Enough of that—what are you even doing here?”

He laughs a bit. Kaiser found this strange reunion quite fun. “I crash here sometimes after practice and I may have forgotten that Yoichi’s little sister was moving in today.”

The intruder seemed way too relaxed on the bed as he propped himself up on his elbow. The cocky smile morphed into a lazy grin as he continued to look at you.

Somehow your annoyance melted away. You were reminded of all the times he’d stay at your house for hours on end. As a kid, you thought nothing of it. In fact, you were jealous of how permissive his parents were. You’d have to go through a whole spiel just to get your parents to agree for you to join your friends at the park—while Kaiser was allowed to stay and sleep all the time at your house.

But growing up, realizations were made and maybe it wasn’t something to be jealous of.

You took a few steps over to the bed, still with your arms crossed. As serious as you made yourself out to be, he only found it endearing.

“Don’t you have a place to stay at? Like a dorm on campus?”

The concern in your voice puzzled you a bit. Even though he was a pain in the ass, you cared for him regardless. The way his smile disappeared heightened your worries.

“I could go back to my place with my parents…” he muses while lying flat on his back. “But you know… practice drains me so it’s better if I can pass out in the room nearby.”

He could play it cool all he wants, but the way his voice and expression changed couldn’t fool you. There was no need to pry in his personal business. If he wanted to tell you the truth—he would. “You can take the couch… I’m sure Yoichi won’t mind.”

A smile returns to his features, albeit a smaller (less cocky) one. “The question is—would YOU mind?”

Right. Well, you may have had a crush on him for all these years since you were in middle school and high school. And you may have wished that he would stop seeing you as his best friend’s little sister. Aaaand you may have promised yourself that you would end this little crush of yours in college—even if you happen to stumble upon him.

Which you did and it just so happens that you encountered him in your bed of all places.

When he and Yoichi graduated from high school and went on to go to university, you haven’t seen Kaiser since. You haven’t heard from him except from the little snippets Yoichi would tell you about his band.

So you were sure that your feelings had faded along with his memory. But then why is your heart still beating so fast? Why couldn’t you take your eyes off of him?

You chalked it up to the earlier adrenaline of having some unknown presence break into your room. But now that the presence is known… Why do you still feel so nervous?

The simple and glaringly obvious answer was: you still liked him. A lot, to be exact. But you wouldn’t let yourself admit that. Despite pining after him all these years, you were aware of how much it hurt. It pained you to know that he’ll always see you as his best friend’s little sibling. And now seeing him with his new appearance—tatted and in a punk rock band…  you were certain that he had no slim pickings when it came to women.

Once more, you felt the familiar pang of disappointment in your chest. But above all that—you couldn’t deny that he mattered to you.

“No… I don’t really mind. The couch is yours for all I care.”

Kaiser sits up straight, still keeping his gaze fixed on you. “Sweet. You’re the best.”

The best huh? It was like a knot had formed in your stomach at his words. Dropping your arms to your sides, you gave him a tristful look in exchange. So many thoughts ran rampant in your head that it barely registered to you that he had already dragged himself out of your bed and was now standing in front of you.

He still towered over you like before. Did he always go to band practice shirtless or was God messing with you right now by shoving this awful coincidence at your face (quite literally). A cold sweat ran down your spine as his scent permeated your nose. His presence alone was intoxicating.

Kaiser placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair a bit. “Good night then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With one last smile, he was gone the same way he went in. He was even kind enough to switch the lights off for you. 

Like a drain, the thoughts that had swirled in your mind slowly vanished. Out of sight, out of mind—you figured. You slowly got back into bed, pulling the covers just below your chin. Your fingers bunched the fabric tightly enough that your knuckles went white.

You could finally sleep… but maybe in a few more minutes because now you have to deal with your covers smelling like him.

— — — — —

“I told you she was moving in yesterday. Is your head full of air or what?”

“I just fucking forgot. Get off my ass will you?”

“For fuck’s sa—Hey, morning.”

You weren’t sure what they were mumbling about. You weren’t the most coherent after waking up. Though, this did feel like a familiar scene. You, waking up later than usual—still yawning with eyes half-lidded—while your brother and his best friend were already at the table eating breakfast. And most often than not, they’re going to be arguing about something stupid.

“Morning, Yoichi… Morning, Michael.”

“Heh, you must’ve slept well. You still got marks all over your face from the sheets,” he teased. 

Kaiser was only met by a scoff. “Shut up.”

You made a beeline for the fridge, grabbing a carton of milk then making a bowl of cereal. Sitting at the table, you began to eat quietly from across them. 

“So,” Yoichi starts. “I have something important to talk with you about

Your brow quirked, piqued by your brother’s sudden shift to seriousness. “What?”

He sighs, seemingly frustrated about the impending discussion. “I’ll be straight to the point. Can this fool stay with us? Like on the couch?”

Your chewing slowed, eventually coming to a complete halt. “You mean like… indefinitely? I thought he had a place to stay though?”

Yoichi glared at the man next to him, confirming your suspicions that perhaps the things he said last night weren’t factual at all. Was he occasionally crashing here or did he actually live here? Kaiser simply held his hands up in defense, an uneasy smile to boot.

“I don’t know what this idiot told you but he’s been living with me since we got here,” Yoichi explains. You drop your spoon in your bowl causing a bit of milk to splash out. This was the first that you heard of this arrangement.

“But… does Mom know about this? There wasn’t even any sign of anyone else living here with you?”

“Nah, she doesn’t know,” Kaiser coolly replies. “Plus, all my stuff’s in a duffle bag and some of it’s in the band room. It’d be a hassle to put away all my stuff when your parents visit.”

You should have been worried about a plethora of other things, but for some reason, all you could think about was why he had to live with your brother. Just what is going on in his life?

You cleared your throat. “Are you freeloading off of my brother?”

“Ouch. Do you really think I’d do such a thing? Don’t worry. I have a part-time job so I can pay half of the rent.”

Half? For a studio apartment? Whatever part-time job he has—it definitely pays well. You could see why Yoichi would agree to it and halving the expenses was cheaper than getting a dorm. Seeing as how he’s diligent about their living situation and Yoichi isn’t refuting his claims… you feel oddly calm about it. Besides, you were sure that your parents would be fine. It’s not that different from when he’d sleep over at your house when you three were younger… right?

You scold yourself internally for being so chill about this. You were too accepting of his presence. Bad habits die hard it seems. 

But the discussion wrapped up quickly and not long after that—the two men were already deep into their discussion of the band. Yoichi and Kaiser are like the heart and mind of the band after all. This was originally their dream and somehow they roped in other guys to be a part of it. You’d never admit it to them, but you were proud of how far they’ve come.

Once you finished your breakfast, you stood to wash the dishes while they were already heading for the door.

“Hey. Come to the freshman party later. We’ll be playing and you need to watch or else I’m telling Mom.”

Kaiser chimes in. “There’s going to be a surprise too~”

Not a hint of trustworthiness could be seen in that mischievous smile of his. You had your hunch on what that surprise might be.

“I swear if you shout me out I will ignore you for the rest of the year.”

“Heh. No promises! But you should still come, alright? I’ll be waiting for you~” “I’m fucking serious. Don’t even think abo—”

And just like that, your brother and his menace of a best friend were out the door. Seems like you have something to keep you busy tonight then. Besides… you can’t disappoint someone waiting for you, right?

An act of courtesy was all it was.

— — — — —

Even without your brother’s earlier threat, you would have still come to this party. As a matter of fact, you’ve been mentally preparing for this night for about a week now. You were dead set on mingling with your fellow freshmen, getting loose, and having the time of your life. But you weren’t expecting to be overwhelmed to such a degree. The flashing lights, the huge crowd of dancing people, and the blaring music—you’ve never seen anything like it before.

How you would even get to talk to anyone here was beyond you. But perhaps you were looking at it the wrong way. People talked with their bodies here, but you couldn’t imagine pushing yourself between them—dancing and letting that speak for yourself. 

You were getting cold feet. The urge to just turn around and leave was strong. However—as much as you loathed it—his words kept you anchored in your spot.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

Sure, he was. They have a whole crowd out here; there was no way he’d be able to see you among all these people. The better part of yourself knew he was buttering you up, helping Yoichi into coaxing you to come here. But you let yourself be swayed.

Desperately, you tried to weave yourself through the throng of people blocking the path towards the stage. For a freshman party, the size of the place was impressive. Though that didn’t help when it took forever to get a good spot near the stage. If you weren’t going to socialize—might as well watch your brother and his friends perform.

You’ve mostly seen their band through videos. Whenever Yoichi sent one to your parents, they’d watch it on the living room TV. But now that you were about to see them live, the atmosphere was totally different. Maybe watching it on the TV wasn’t as excessive as you once thought.

As the DJ’s music died down, people—including you—were forced to direct the attention to the stage where they had already set up shop.

“Mic check… mic check… 1, 2, 3…”

An uncharacteristic smirk crosses your face. Your brother didn’t seem so lame when he was up front and leading the band. They were quite cool, holding their instruments and wearing black outfits with hints of red. Of course, you recognized most of them from high school, but there was a new guy sitting at the drum set.

Their last drummer was a bit of a lunatic… maybe this guy won’t be so bad.

“Alright. Sorry, Mr. DJ, but you gotta pack up ‘cuz DEVOUR is in the house.”

The crowd goes wild. If they’re this pumped—what more if they start playing? Guess Yoichi wasn’t lying when he said they were a big deal now. Even the university new bloods were howling for them.

“My name’s Isagi, your vocalist for tonight.”

“It’s Kaiser. Better keep your eyes on me, a’ight?”

“Rin.”

“Sei…I mean—Nagi… Nagi Seishirou.”

“And last but not the least! I’m Shidou Fuckin’ Ryusei. Make some noise, fuckers!”

By all means, that new drummer surely is the flashiest of the bunch. With an introduction and dramatic bow like that—there’d be no shortage of eyes staring at him all night. But, of course, your eyes immediately went to a certain tattooed man. Sure enough—Kaiser wore the (sexiest) black tank top. Of course, he did. And no, you were adamant that you were merely admiring his tattoo in its full glory. Definitely not his bulging biceps. You wouldn’t dare.

They start their set with one of their louder and faster songs. Yoichi has gotten better at singing and it never fails to amaze you how his demeanor changes once he gets ahold of a microphone. Rin and Nagi are… well, they’re still laid-back as ever. And the drummer’s really going all out. They had the crowd jumping, going wild along with the music. It was insane.

Although, one of them seemed out of it. It looked as if Kaiser was finding something amongst the crowd. His eyes darted from side-to-side in the large function hall, obviously distracted. But best believe he never missed a beat; Kaiser was as  flawless as ever. He prided himself in being an excellent performer through and through.

His hunt only ended when his eyes zeroed in on you. His expression softened—you swore it did. The corners of your mouth tugged, wanting to match the smile that was plastered on his face. You were no lip reader, but you were certain that he mouthed those words to you.

“Watch me closely, okay?”

You wondered if the words he uttered in their introduction were meant for everyone or if it was addressed to someone specifically…

Whatever—you found yourself getting lost in the rhythm of their music. Sure, you were staring at Kaiser for half of their set, but the entire band caught your attention down the line. They were really really really good. There was no stopping the amused smile from creeping on your face.

Alas, they slowed after some time, signaling that their set had ended.

“How are we doing so far?”

Your brother was met with the enthusiastic roar of the crowd. Huh… well, ain’t that neat? He flashes a grin. “How about we end the night with an encore? A cover? What do y’all say?”

Again, another wave of agreement.

Safe to say—your expectations were curbed when Kaiser gave his guitar to Yoichi and took his spot at the mic. He taps the mic once, then twice. “Yoichi, take care of my baby for me. Will you? I just have a crowd to wow right now.”

Cocky. But you had to admit—strong stage presence.

The tune started and your expression quickly changed. Seriously? Of all songs to cover… they really had to go with a song that resonated WAY TOO MUCH with you. But then again, seeing that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face tells you this was not much of a coincidence.

“Can’t count the years on one hand that we’ve been together…”

Hell, you promised that you’d start this new chapter of your life like a clean slate—nothing should be holding you back. Especially not some dumb-unreciprocated-childhood crush. But could you still call it a childhood crush at this point?

“I should be over all the butterflies, but I’m into you…”

Perhaps it was your mind playing tricks or you were actually going crazy and suffering hallucinations—but you promise that his eyes were fixed on you as he sang the lyrics. 

Well, shit.

“Yeah, after all this time… I’m still into you.”

Seems like you’re not over him at all.

At the last note of the song, the crowd cheers for them—energized even after dancing for an hour now. Kaiser flashed his million dollar smile, leaning into the microphone.

“Thank you! You’ve been an awesome crowd. Again, we’re DEVOUR.”

The crowd swoons and they bow, concluding their performance for tonight. As the other guys began walking off the stage, Kaiser quickly added one last thing.

Your heart dropped when he pointed a finger at you. “And shoutout to our first and biggest fan, Yoichi’s little sister!”

While all eyes turned to look at you, your own gaze was fixed on the infuriating man on the stage. Something about those eyes were telling you that you’ll be alright.

— — — — —

It felt strange on your walk back home. After their set, you would have never thought that you’d actually find yourself with a group of people, talking and hyping each other up for the coming semester.

Well, they did approach you because Kaiser pointed you out. But a win is a win in your book. A small part of you was thankful for him. He gave you that little nudge—the boost that you needed to jumpstart from that clean slate of yours.

As you stood at the door to the studio apartment, you could hear muffled voices coming from inside. Pushing the door, you were met with the entire band. So it seems that this isn’t just their designated practice location… but also their hang out space.

How troublesome.

Yoichi and Rin were too busy arguing about something that they failed to greet you. Kaiser was nowhere to be seen, so it was only Nagi and the drummer aware of your presence.

“Yo,” Nagi greets you.

“Hey, Sei. Nice to see you again,” you wave back. Nagi only nods. Actually, you were expecting him to drop like a fly after the taxing performance they just did. But it was a pleasant surprise to see him wide awake.

You felt the drummer’s eyes on you as you made your way inside. What was his name again? Shidou was it? 

“Uh… hey, Shidou, right?”

He grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Yeah, that would be me. You Isagi’s girl?”

That seemed to catch the attention of the two men arguing. “Dude, what the fuck.”

“Did you not hear Kaiser introduce her earlier as his sister? She’s literally an Isagi too, dumbass.”

At least Rin and Yoichi can agree on some things. 

Shidou shrugs. “Must’ve missed it ‘cuz I got off the stage first.” He sat up straighter, a determined look on his face. “In that case, can I shoot my sho—”

“Hey. Shoot your shot somewhere else, you pink haired freak.”

A familiar voice made itself known as an arm draped over your shoulders. Kaiser pulled you into his side, acting all protective. “She just got here and you’re already scaring her off.”

“Pink haired freak? We got our tips dyed together, man.”

A short “pffft” comes from Nagi.

“Besides, what gives?” Shidou asks, an eyebrow raised. “You got an arm over her. How’s that any different?”

Oh how you wished your brother would come to your rescue, but he was just sitting there—bickering with Rin again. Jesus. How do they function so well on stage, but they’re like this behind the scenes?

Kaiser scoffs. “I’ve known her even before she could walk, alright?” He sets down the can of beer he was holding on his other hand. “Anyway, I’m heading out to get some more.”

But you swore the beer can was still full with the sound it made when he set it on the table. The reason behind his lie became apparent as soon as he dragged you out of the apartment with him. 

“I can’t go out alone, can I?”

Soon as you two were out the door and out of sight of the others, he removed his arm from you. It seared where his warmth lingered. You wanted to ask why he retracted, but that was too much. Kaiser shoved his hands into his pockets and walked a few steps ahead of you.

“How was the party? Had fun?”

“It was okay,” you downplayed. “Met a couple of new people.” 

He looked back at you to see what kind of expression you were making. It was rather flat—not what he was expecting. But your outward appearance betrayed the brimming excitement that threatened to burst out your chest.

He sighed before turning to look back at the path in front of him. “Glad you did. Aren’t you forgetting something though?”

“What?”

“I dunno—maybe a ‘thank you’ for helping you out.”

“Usually people don’t ask for anything in return when they do good deeds,” you retort.

“Then what’s saying ‘thank you’ for?”

“It’s for genuine people who don’t smile cocky at you while putting you on the spot.”

— — — — —

Thankfully, the convenience store wasn’t too far away. He pulled the heavy glass door for you—the hinges of which put the doors of a bank to shame with how difficult it is to open. It sure made potential robberies difficult. The cold air of the store hit you in the face causing you to squint.

“Good evening,” says the cashier. He was probably a student at his part-time job. You could tell—not because he was young—but because he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet than behind the grimey register of the store. 

He didn’t even spare you a glance until Kaiser entered the store himself. His eyebrows raised despite his deadpan expression.

“Yo, Kaiser.”

“Hey, Raichi. Working late hours again?” he asked while making his way to the fridge.

Raichi clicks his tongue. “What’s it look like?”

The dryness in his response earned a short chuckle from Kaiser. Raichi grumbles. “Heard you guys had a set today at the freshman party.”

Kaiser surveyed the different brands of beer that stared back at him through the glass of the fridge. “Yeah. Sucks you couldn’t be there.” He opens the fridge, finally having made a decision. Although he pulls out a six-pack of the same brand he was drinking earlier.

He stops and turns to look at Raichi. “This is Yoichi’s little sister, by the way,” he says while pointing to you. Suddenly, you were obliged to wave awkwardly at the other man. The lazy look remained on his face as he nodded at you.

“Knew she looked familiar.”

You were growing concerned with how more and more people were starting to know you only as “Yoichi’s little sister” —that and how Raichi basically implied you looked like your brother.

Kaiser closed the fridge, directing your gaze back to him.

“Why are you getting a single six-pack?”

A look of disbelief crosses his face, paired with an uneasy smirk. “Oh are you a drinker now too? Want a whole pack to yourself or something?”

“No, dumbass. You brought me all the way here so I thought you needed help bringing back stuff.”

He laughed louder than he was supposed to. “Can’t I bring you along as company? Besides, I’d never let you carry shit.”

You only let your gaze follow him as he carried the pack of beer to the register. As the cans made contact with the counter, Raichi had already placed a pack of smokes along with it. Kaiser stiffened, silently telling Raichi with his murderous eyes to put the fucking thing away.

But it was too late.

“Woah. You smoke?”

Raichi makes a look of realization before slowly sliding the box off of the counter. It wasn’t his fault that he had learned Kaiser’s routine like a waiter at a diner learning their patrons’ usual orders.

Kaiser shook his head while pulling out some bills from his wallet. “Psh, nah. It’s just common that when people buy booze—they also buy smokes. Force of habit huh, Rai?” 

Kaiser smiled while handing him the money, as if telling him to agree. Raichi sighed, dropping his shoulders. He doesn’t get paid enough for this shit. “Right. My bad, dude.”

It was rather… suspicious. But you thought nothing of it as Raichi shook his head incredulously, scanning the barcode plastered on the plastic wrapping of the six-pack. The cash register slides out with a bit of a hiccup. He grabs a couple of coins and hands the change to Kaiser.

“Thanks, man. Take care. Also, liven up.”

Raichi holds up his middle finger as the two of you make your way out of the store. “Yeah, take care and fuck you too.”

— — — — —

This time he walked beside you. Although, you preferred it when he walked in front of you. Staring at his back was better than feeling his presence way too close like this.

He was unusually quiet. Kaiser wasn’t bugging you or enticing you with a random story—He was just right beside you, walking silently. It only made you more nervous.

But when he spoke, you felt that perhaps his silence was better.

“What do you want to accomplish in your time here?”

That was… deep. Certainly, you’ve never spoken to each other like this before. But it felt as if he finally saw you as an equal—that you were “adult” enough that he could ask such questions to you.

He glances at you, noting your long pause. “I don’t mean boring shit like graduating. None of that. What’s something that you REALLY want to do this time around?”

“I guess…. I want to have fun.”

“No shit. Everyone wants fun. But how do you want to do it?”

He was putting you on the spot again. “I-I don’t know… I just want to do things I normally wouldn’t do without having crippling anxiety. Y’know? Like—like escaping my comfort zone or something.”

It was a shitty answer, you knew. But he nodded his head in acceptance. He halted, resulting in you doing the same. He was looking at you with that smile he had when you found him in your bed yesterday.

“Want me to help you have fun?”

“What do you get out of it?” 

“I get to have fun too. Duh.”

If anyone knew how to have fun—you would guess that it was him. His logic didn’t make perfect sense to you, but then again, Michael Kaiser never made sense to you either. It was that mystery that surrounded him that captivated you.

Pursing your lips, you eventually relented despite not knowing what was in store for you. Kaiser’s smile grew wider. “Great. I’ll look forward to making the next 4 years of your life the best you ever had.”

You were glad he started walking in front of you again… otherwise he’d see how hard you were trying to keep a straight face. This man—he was going to be the death of you.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[artbyblastweave]

i only learned recently from a friend's who much more comic literate than I that magneto's backstory as an Auschwitz survivor wasnt planned from the start, which surprised me since it seemed to me a really integral part of his character. anyway, twofold question: how common is it to see capes with backstories tied to very specific historical events, and, as time inevitably passes and real world survivors of those events pass, how do they justify having their characters still alive and kicking? (stay safe on your mountaintop friend)

Depending on how wide you cast the net, this is a pretty big list! There are a lot of comics who's characters cutting-edge ripped-from-the-headlines origin later became a very specific historical event, or at least Of A Specific Moment, in a way the writers had no reason to anticipate the franchise would run long enough to have happen. But to shed pedantry and hone in on some specific ones;

The big one, of course, is Captain America. Superficially Cap's contemporary origin comes with a baked-in means of him making it to the present day- he gets stuck in the ice and then gets unthawed. The fly in the ointment, though, is when he unthaws. When they first brought him back into rotation in 1964, his stint in the ice was only around 20 years; long enough for there to be a significant culture shock, but not long enough that his entire social circle was dead or even culturally sidelined. Nick Fury is still around and kicking ass as a zeitgeist-appropriate 60s superspy. But the further the sliding timeline hauls forward his implicit date of release, the more it changes the tone and tenor of the resulting story. Losing twenty years is different from losing fifty years (as was the case in The Ultimates, where he very explicitly comes back during the Bush years as part of the book's commentary on The War On Terror) and those will both be way different from when we inevitably hit the point where he's lost 100 years and he's the cultural equivalent of a Civil War Vet or something. There's strength to all of those stories but they're undeniably different.

Iron Man's origin was originally explicitly tied to the Vietnam war; he was captured by a detachment of "Red Guerillas" while consulting for the US military and the South Vietnamese government. Unfortunately U.S. foreign policy to this day has prevented this from ever becoming an unresolvable storytelling issue.

The Fantastic Four are a case where their origin was intimately tied to the space race; their untested, cutcorner spaceflight was expressly an attempt to show up the Russians. The extremely specific political context of their test flight is something that sort of gets brushed off; the Ultimate incarnation (written by Warren Ellis) threaded this needle deftly by having the accident be a dimensional expedition instead, circa the early 2000s. I'm not actually sure how the urgency of their test flight is currently contextualized in 616 continuity. Anyone got their finger on that pulse?

The Punisher was also originally a Vietnam vet- but through the jaded cynical lens of the 1980s rather than the straightforwardly peppy and jingoistic lens that defined Iron Man's debut in the 60s. Current continuities I believe have mostly bitten the bullet and updated his origin to the invasion of Afghanistan. However, an interesting decision in the Garth Ennis-spearheaded Punisher MAX continuity of the early 2000s- where Punisher is literally the only costumed vigilante- is that they bit the bullet and posited a version of Frank Castle who really has been killing criminals nonstop since shortly after his return from Vietnam in the 70s, a man well into his 60s who's survivability and efficacy at killing are edging up against the boundaries of magical realism.

Hulk I feel sort of deserves a mention here- he's in a sort of twilight zone on this issue, as there was, uh, a pretty goddamn specific political context in which the Army was having him make them a new kind of bomb, but you can haul that forward in the timeline without complete destruction of suspension of disbelief. Pretty soon it'll be downright topical again.

To circle back around to The X-Men, Claremont introduced a lot of historical specificity with the ANAD lineup. Off the top of my head, Colossus was explicitly a USSR partisan (updated to a gangster forced into crime to survive in the mismanaged chaos of the USSR's collapse in the Ultimate Universe) and Storm was orphaned by a French bombing during the Suez War. More to the point, the timing was such that Magneto, in his upper-middle age, had a pretty strongly defined timeline vis a vis his ideological development vs Xavier; child during the holocaust, Nazi hunter who eventually rifts with Xavier during the mid-to-late 60s, and then the two of them spend their years marshalling their respective resources before coming to blows during the quote-unquote "Age of Heroes," whatever the timeline looked like for that in the 80s. And it was a timeline that held together pretty damn well in the 80s, but it's gotten increasingly awkward as time's gone on. The Fox films completely gave up on having it make sense, near as I can tell. In the comics they've had all sorts of de-aging chicanery occur that very pointedly ignores what an odd timeline that implies for everyone else in the X-books besides Magneto. The Cullen Bunn Magneto standalone from 2014-15 I remember actually leaned into playing up the idea that he's just old as shit and dependent on so many superscience treatments to remain functional that he's basically pickled, which was a take I liked; the comic ended when he died of exertion trying to stop two planets from crashing into each other, right before a brand-wide universal reset. When the MCU was at it's peak and people were wargaming how to integrate the X-Men (lol) you occasionally saw people float "fixes" for the issue, such as making Magneto a survivor of the Bosnian Genocide, or making him black and a survivor of the Rwandan genocide; I remember that this consistently drew a lot of ire from people who (reasonably) thought that his Judaism and connection to the holocaust were deeply important to his character, continuity be damned. But yeah, he's a character dogged by specificity in a way only Cap even slightly approaches. If this is a tractable problem I'm not going to be the one to tract it.

Interestingly, I'm genuinely having a lot of trouble coming up with stuff that's analogous to this at DC comics- almost universally the core roster updates into any given time period much more smoothly. Furthermore, DC stuff has always been much more willing to eschew Marvel's World-Outside-Your-Window philosophy in favor of deliberately obfuscating the time period via the Dark-Deco aesthetic of BTAS's Gotham or the retrofuturism of STAS's Metropolis.

The closest you get to this kind of friction is The Justice Society, who, pre-crisis, were siloed off in a universe where superheroes had existed since the 40s and there was no comic book time, so they were all in their upper-middle-age to old age now, with their kids and grandkids as legacy capes. Post crisis they were (and are) kind of an awkward fit in DC continuity; in the scant few JSA comics from the 90s and early oughts that I read, surviving members of the WW2-era lineup like Alan Scott and Jay Garrick were absolutely written as dependent on their metahuman physiques to have endured up to the present day. I think they're still doing stuff with those guys. I don't know how. I do understand the impulse, though. I also never throw anything out.

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 8

The reveal pt 1

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱

~

I took a few minutes to get ready.  Make my hair presentable, double check the sweater sat right, perfectly framing the soul marks I was meant to show off.

Then I sat my camera up, facing the blank wall I was going to use as a backdrop in leu of actually having my usual backdrops.  I adjusted the lighting using the bedside lamps to give my skin a soft warm sunset glow in the pictures.  Giving the whole picture a soft vibe.

I had a remote clicker for my camera that I mainly used when dealing with children, but it worked with this too.  I sat cross legged facing the wall, trying to envision good poses I would usually instruct my subjects into if I were just taking photos at the studio.

Even though the sweater was high necked in the front and long sleeved, I still felt exposed with it being backless.  My face flamed red every time I shifted into a slightly different pose.  I couldn’t actually see how the poses were working without moving to look after every photo, so instead I opted to try a bunch of poses.  This also meant that each Omega could choose their own favorite pose and photo, and they would all be matchy matchy with their posts.

Ten minutes and 27 photos later I was done.  Hopefully I got at least 8 good photos in there somewhere.  There was no way I was going to do this again if there wasn’t.  This would be a moment I look back on and still get embarrassed after 5 years.

I threw on a sweatshirt and grabbed the stuff to edit the photos on the TV again.  The boys seemed to enjoy watching me edit the photos last time, and they could choose their photo at the same time.  Plus, the big screen made the editing so much easier.

When I opened the door, I nearly jumped out of my skin.  All 8 Omegas were standing in the simply lit hall outside my door.  “What in the actual fuck are you doing?”  I gasped holding my chest.  My heart was racing out of my chest.

“You were taking a long time.”  Hyunjin explained completely unapologetic to taking years off my lifespan.

“So, you decided giving me a heart attack was the best thing to get me to hurry?”

There was a series of shrugs from them, and I rolled my eyes so hard it actually hurt.  “Get in the living room!”  I snapped waving my hand at them.

“I made you some chicken.  You can eat it while we look at your pictures.”  Lee Know said, handing me a bowl as we settled back in the living room.

“Thank you, Lee Know.”  I smiled at him gratefully.  I sat back and ate a piece.  It was melt in your mouth good-as usual.  The food is another thing I had missed, though not nearly as much.  It was so different here than at home – or my previous home I should say.

“Holy shit!  Y/n!  What the fuck?”  Seungmin exclaimed when the first picture loaded.

Chan whistled.  “This is borderline indecent!”

“Well, I needed to show the marks!  They go down most of my spine!”  I defended myself feeling self-conscious.

The picture in question wasn’t even close to indecent.  I had one arm across my body and softly placed over my ribs and my head was slightly tilted back and turned toward the camera, but not enough so that you could see my face.  Surprisingly, I kind of liked it.  Turned out better than I expected.

“You’re sure you’re not a model?”  Changbin asked.

I felt my cheeks start to warm.  “Shuddup guys!  I just know how to pose people.  It was part of my job!”

“Y/N, I don’t say this lightly, but you are a natural model.  You make it look effortless.”  Hyunjin praised as they flipped through more photos.

“Thank you.”  I responded blushing deeper and clearing my throat.

The next several hours were spent choosing photos and then editing them.  They each captioned the photo ‘Stray Kids found their Alpha!’ and posted their photos at the same time.

I again made sure to like each one.

Then we sat back and watched STAY and netizens go absolutely berserk.  It was kind of entertaining to watch how unhinged they all got.  And STAY was pretty much throwing a worldwide party to celebrate the news.

STAYs jealousy and dislike for change was overshadowed by the fact that Stray Kids was not being forced to disband – for now.  Some even claimed that waiting until the eleventh hour was very on brand for Stray Kids, but I didn’t see it.

The rumor mill started working overtime almost immediately.  There was a rather large faction that believed their Alpha was another idol and that’s why it took so long to bond.  They had to negotiate and adjust all the contracts accordingly.

Another rumor with a lot of believers was that they found their Alpha in the slave and sex trade ring.  They concluded that it took so long because they had to find a way to free the Alpha.  Some said they bought them, some said they snuck them out and helped them escape.  The most generous one was that they worked with the authorities to bring the ring down.  A handful of fanfictions were inspired by that last one.

Their attacks and hate on me wouldn’t start until the euphoria of Stray Kids staying wore off.  Maybe, if I was lucky, a couple weeks.  At the very least until I was revealed.  And then I could only hope their disappointment over the true story being revealed wouldn’t start a revolt.  Netizens could be very cruel.

“Well, we only have until tomorrow until we announce our mini tour.  So, enjoy the last of your relaxation.”  Chan announced with a sigh.

I perked up.  “A mini tour?”  I had never even been to a concert.  Too broke to go to a location they were at.  Too broke for a ticket at all, actually.

“It’s a surprise for STAY.  A kind of celebration that we are back.”  Han explained.

“But you didn’t know if you’d be back.”  Did they somehow know I would come back?  How?  I didn’t even know.

“We planned the tour when we first went on hiatus, under the assumption that we would be back.”  Chan shrugged.

“The power of positive thinking?”

“Hey, it worked.”

I snorted but couldn’t deny it.  I have always believed in positive thinking, this just felt more like a miracle.

“So, lots of practice then.”  Lee Know said in confirmation sounding a little relieved.

“Finally!”  Hyunjin cheered.

I smiled.  It was good to see them so excited about getting back to work.  They were all so passionate about what they do – their craft, if you will.  They truly loved what they did.  And put their everything into what they created and put out into the world.

“Cool.  Then while you are practicing, I’m going to go home a-!”  I was interrupted when Seungmin tackled me suddenly.  He maneuvered so he took the brunt of the hit when we landed on the floor.

Several voices cried out our names at once and I blinked up into Seungmins terrified eyes before they disappeared.  He hugged me tightly, fingers clutching at the hoodie I was wearing.

There was some chaos as the others alternated between yelling at Seungmin and fussing over me.  However, I clearly heard Seungmin when he spoke in my ear.  “You can’t leave us again.”

Realizing what happened I wrapped my arms around him and ran my hands up and down his spine once before gripping the back of his neck, right over his mark.  His body immediately relaxed on top of me, but he still didn’t let go.

“Shh, my Omega.  I’m not leaving forever.  I need to pack up my things and wrap up my old life.  Then I’ll be back.”  I promised lowly, keeping my hand on his mark.  “A week tops.”

He shook his head.  “Too long.”

“The sooner I get there, the sooner I can get back.”

The others managed to get us into a sort of sitting position, but Seungmin refused to let go.  “You can’t leave!  You can’t leave again!”

Giving up, Chan sat next to us.  “We can hire people to pack up your things and whatever.”

“There, see.  Now I don’t have to go.”  I whispered to Seungmin giving his neck a gently squeeze.

Slowly, in small increments, Seungmin eased his grip and released me, looking embarrassed and slightly glassy eyed.  “It’s okay, Seungmin.”  I soothed reaching out to smooth his hair from his face.

“He could have been gentler.”  Lee Know pointed out, annoyed.  He stood nearby; arms crossed.

“He protected me from the fall.  And I should have gone about announcing that differently since everything is still so fresh.”

“It’s just…letting you out of our sight is going to be hard for a while.”  Chan explained.

“Try impossible.  She leaves the room and I get anxious!”  Changbin added.  Han nodded beside him.

“It’s not possible to always be in the same room, but I’ll try to let you know where I am.  And not be gone long.”  I said looking to each of them.

They looked unhappy but resigned.  They knew just as well as I did that, I couldn’t be with them all the time.  There would come a time when they separate themselves for their own things and I can’t be multiple places at once.  We would have to decide who I will go with and when.

“Now, Seungmin, come with me please.”  I stood and held a hand out to him.  “We are heading to the bathroom.  I am going to give you a shampoo massage.”

“OOO!  Can I get one?”  Felix asked.  “That sounds so good!”

Seungmin took my hand and stood as I answered.  “After Minnie.”

I set Seungmin up, so he comfortably lay with his head over my tub.  Using my detachable showerhead, I soaked his hair before lathering it generously with shampoo.  While the shampoo worked its magic, I fished one of my face masks from my toiletry bag and smoothed it over his face.

He caught my hand as I moved away.  “I’m sorry.  The last time you were here, I – I’m sorry for how I acted.”

I smiled at him softly.  “I understand your actions.  I was never upset with you.”  I assured him, rubbing my thumb along the back of his hand.  “We can start fresh now that I’m here to stay.”

Seungmin nodded.  “Okay.  Thank you.”

“No need for thanks.  Now, relax and enjoy.”

I got back to work, humming softly.  I could hear the others behind me in the guest room, unable to stay far away for long, but giving us some one-on-one time anyways.  As much as they were able to.  They stayed quiet so they didn’t disturb us.  It was a nice, warm moment filled with love and care all around.

Seungmin seemed to be enjoying himself, so I took my time, alternating between massaging and gently scratching his soapy scalp, then moving down to massage his neck and shoulders as well.  Then repeated the process with conditioner, adding in an ear massage.

“Mmm.  You’re very good at this.”  Seungmin hummed as I rinsed.

I smiled.  “Thank you.  I’m out of practice.  I used to do this for my mother when she got a migraine.”

“Where is your mother?  You never mentioned your parents before.”

I paused before patting his hair with a towel.  “She passed when I was 14.  Brain aneurysm.  Dad never recovered.  He had a heart attack 5 years later.”

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have pried.”  Seungmin sat up, turning to me.

Smiling brightly, I waved his words off.  “Don’t worry, Minnie.  I’m happy they are together again.”  I wasn’t lying.  I had long since come to terms with losing them.

“Now,” I draped the damp towel over his head.  “Send Felix in.”

Felix was almost as still as Sungmin had been.  I had no idea he could be so still and quiet.  He was always bubbling over with life, with movement.  To witness him so still and silent was unnerving.

“So, I don’t know how any of this works.  What can I expect over the next few weeks?

“We will need to link you to our calendars, so you have our schedules.”  Felix started.  “But the next few days are going to be filled with set list planning, dance practices, and making sure we still remember the lyrics and perfecting the singing.”

“So, I just…follow you around?”

“For now, I guess.”  He shrugged.

It honestly sounded boring.  Just sitting around while they practiced and worked.  I would just be in the way most likely.  And there was no way they would let me stay here.  I couldn’t even leave the room at this point.

Whatever.  It is what it is for now.  I’m new to this, learning everything as I go.  I would eventually find my spot in this part of their lives.  Where I could help and not be a burden.  Hopefully.

“What about when I’m revealed?”

Chan joined us, sitting on the floor next to the tub.  He must have been listening in to the conversation.

“We have a group live planned already for tomorrow, when our hiatus officially ends.  We can reveal you then and figure things out after that.”  He answered.

I dried Felixs hair with a dry towel while I let that sink in.  In just a day a secret I spent most of my life hiding will be revealed.  It almost didn’t feel real.  Like this was actually someone else’s life and I was just watching it from the sidelines.

“Is there any way, at all, that I can not be revealed?”  I asked with no real hope.  They always had a camera on them, and they always wanted me with them.  Therefore, I would always have a camera on me.

More than that, the law states I must go with them.  Stupid outdated law.

“We will be right there with you.”  He said not even bothering to answer my question.  We both already knew the answer anyways.

“It will be okay, Y/n.”  Felix assured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and giving me a smile.

“I swear to god, if you guys break your promise and leave me, I’m running away!”  I threatened with every bit of seriousness I could muster.

They both chuckled.  “Yeah, you’re going to be fine.”  Chan reaffirmed.

Back in the guest room the Omegas had set up the makeshift beds again.  “Sleepover?”  At our ages?”  I joked.

“You are never too old for a sleepover.  Especially if it’s with you.”  I.N declared from his nest of blankets.

I rolled my eyes.  “If any of you snore, I’m kicking you out on your ass.”

Even though I slept most of the day, I was still ready to crawl under the blankets.  Since I didn’t sleep on the plane and exhausted myself bonding, my body didn’t know which way was up right now.  Though this may help get my sleep schedule on this time zone just a bit faster.

“No playing around.  We have an early day tomorrow.  Get to sleep.”  Chan ordered.  The room bustled into activity as the Omegas got ready for bed.  I changed into my makeshift pjs.  Turns out I didn’t pack any actual pjs, but I found something that worked so its whatever.

I crawled into the bed and faceplanted into the pillow, sighing loudly into it.  It smelled strongly of Seungmin.  So much so that I didn’t think he let anyone else sleep here since I left.

~

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