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o-sachi · 3 months ago

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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.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #blue lock headcanons #blue lock fluff #The Band DEVOUR #DEV Kaiser

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stargirlrchive · 1 year ago

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── KINKTOBER DAY TWO

orgasm denial/delay w/ jake sully ─ fem!reader

NSFW ✩ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST ✩ GENERAL MASTERLIST

jake knew he was being mean, but he couldn’t help it. the way your thighs quivered as he pressed your face further down into the pillow, it caused a deep chuckle to fall from his mouth. your cunt was so puffy, red and swollen from the constant teasing.

he had eased you open with his fingers, stuffing you full with three of his thick digits as you squealed and mewled out desperately.

right when you were about to come, he pulled them out. a choked sob of disbelief leaving your throat.

“you can only come when i let you, princess.”, he had mumbled as his tongue ran down your slick folds, parting your legs as he devoured you. purposely avoiding your clit except for the few slaps he had delivered to it.

the tip of his tongue only lightly grazing at your entrance as you tried to tangle your fingers within his hair to get him deeper. a soft growl left jake’s throat as he looked up at you from between your thighs, “behave.”

it had been hours and you so were desperate, pushing back against his cock as he bullied his length into your tight cunt. “please, fuck jake-“

you could hear him tsk quietly, followed by a sharp sting to the swell of your ass, causing you to squirm under him. “no. you talked a big game earlier about how i hadn’t fucked you like this in a while.”

his fingers gripped at your waist, keeping you in place as he delivered short, deep thrust into you. the head of his cock knocking against the spongey spot inside of you each time.

“now you’re going to take it, and be a good girl for me and stop complaining.”

your face was hot and flushed as it rested against the pillow, soft cries leaving you with each thrust. your walls had tightened up like a vice around jake’s cock and he cooed down at you. his big hands running down the length of your spine to massage your lower back. “you wanna come, baby?”

you gave him a weak nod, sniffling softly as you hid your face from him. “no, baby. use your words.”

“please, wanna come so bad-”

jake pulled you up against him, one hand flat against your chest to keep you up, while the other found its way between your thighs.

“go ahead, princess.”

his fingers pressed against your clit, rubbing in gentle circles as he continue to thrust into you. his lips pressing against your temple as he whispered soft praises.

your legs trembled against his and you were positive that if he hadn’t been holding you up, you would’ve fallen forward from the sheer force of your orgasm.

“fuck-there you go baby.”

you were a mess, all your bones felt like liquid as his thick ropes of come filled you. your eyes already heavy with sleep as jake laid you down. pressing kisses all over your back and massaging your aching muscles as he cleaned you up.

taglist: @trashfox @king-julian6201 @cyberfreaky @tojisun @justateenageslut @rilamoon @lazystorycollector @slutforjake @dreamingofpandora @yeoldedumbslut @dilfdotgov @httpsmama @punk-22 @youcraveet @moxiz @hisa-plush @alastairheir @sailorneotunemivhiru @ifellinthebong @darlingvinny @msc41ntlo @aeplern @yomamaisme ; lmk if you would like to be tagged <3

#jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader smut #jake sully #jake sully smut #avatar jake #avatar smut #kinktober #STARGIRLRCHIVE — KINKTOBER

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rel124c41 · 1 month ago

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GOT YOU (WHERE I WANT YOU) (AS HEARD IN THE MOVIE DISTURBING BEHAVIOR). jade leech

In Jade’s logical mind, there is only one concrete truth: You are getting bored of your boyfriend.

1/3.

tags: no grim AU, established relationship, social criticism, piercings/tattoos, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort, punk!jade leech

word count: 9,684

It is hard to pin down when it started.

For a man who likes to keep himself organized – his books, his shoes, his bedsheets, his life, his mind – it should not be this difficult to pinpoint the start. Perhaps because this change can be attributed to a number of variables, it puzzles him so. In his mind, he tries outlining all of them: Is it because your three month honeymoon phase has passed?; is it possibly an underlying issue he has never noticed?; or, could it be — well, Jade would rather not think about that third option.

Perhaps it is not really important to pin down when it started. Does the beginning matter when already so deep in the middle? Besides, there is a more pressing matter at hand: “How about this one,” Jade holds it up to his brother, “if you do not use it, I’m throwing it away.”

What he holds in his hand is a long sheet of glistening paper. A tattoo sticker measured to be a full arm sleeve that depicts a lion head at the top, prayer hands, and three crosses at the bottom like headstones. Not Jade’s style. “Naaaah.” And apparently, not Floyd’s either. Jade tears it down the middle and discards it in his trash.

As he flips through the other choices, the same question winds itself around in the train station of his mind, stubbornly refusing to halt. It is hard to pin down when it started. When did it start?

Maybe it started in the prologue. Or perhaps it predates the prologue, starting in the preface. The preface where his stomach twisted itself into the most complex, intricate sailor knots when you looked at him. That awful preface where he had to hold a hand to his heart to muffle the sound of it when you smiled at him.

If he was trying to pin down when his attraction towards you emerged like some parasite, there are so many prefaces to start upon. For example, there is the time when:

You sat perched on the cobblestone wall in the main courtyard with a pocket-sized copy of Animal Farm in hand, balancing it between your fingers like teacup ceramic. Dark, heavily mascaraed eyelashes flutter as your eyes slice up each sentence and devour them on your tongue like greasy, hot pink stripes of bacon. Then, those cold marbles – that looked at him fleetingly, glossed over like he was not worth dissecting – caught him beyond a window and held eye contact undeterred.

– or –

You sang with a microphone in hand, caught in a spin with one leg tucked up so your skirt fluttered with your single circulate, “Exhibitiiion is the name! Voooyeurism is the game!” Pinched between forefingers, you lifted up an edge of the box pleat skirt to cheekily reveal a lace pair of coconut white thong panties. In the back, Floyd — who Jade was sent to retrieve after he abruptly left his shift at Mostro Lounge — hammers away on the drums, taking up the spot for an ill Kalim at your pleads.

– or –

The time you had piqued the eel-mer’s interest by stumping and finding a flaw in his land knowledge due to a simple misunderstanding. Jade – who admittedly still had a lot to learn about the current world above sea – had heard in the rumor mill he frequented that you wore a two-way. He had assumed it was something less than innocent until you flipped open a prehistoric device not even talked about in Land Boot Camp and told him excitedly it was cutting-edge technology from your world.

– or – “I like that one.”

Snapped out of his reminiscing, Jade blinks down at the tattoo sticker he has not fully been paying attention to. It depicts an oceanic scene of a Poseidon made of water rising from the waves where a doomed ship falls into an octopus’s grip. It also ends with a sunken statue head of Poseidon where Jade’s wrist would be.

The one that Floyd likes, Jade does not find himself sharing the sentiment. Bit too on the nose. Besides: “I don’t think (Name) would though.” Which is why he goes to place it back down. His bones jolt in surprise before he can pick up the next one.

“AHA! I knew it! ‘Just wanted to change my own aesthetic’ – knew this was for Shrimpy.”

On Jade’s desk, sixteen more of the remaining tattoo stickers lie. Fifteen remain on the desk when Jade pointedly analyzes one to ignore Floyd’s revelation. He subtly grits his teeth in annoyance, upset that by slipping into memories, he also allowed his words to slip.

“It is not for her. I am simply keeping her preferences in mind. We are dating after all.”

Those concrete words – dating – help to alleviate a small sliver of Jade’s anxiety over his current situation. That despite the feeling of everyone wanting to have a piece of you, he had been the only one to succeed. He got the whole pie and he would not be sharing a slice with anyone. He is impossibly greedy to the end.

Yet, it seems his disdain for this situation (because it is so hard to pin down the start of it) must show on his face. “Aw poor Jade.” His brother’s voice is more mocking than sympathetic. “Trouble in Shrimpy paradise?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

Floyd hums as he leans back into bed. “It totally is. I can see it ya face.”

“Please, keep talking. And I assure you will soon find out what talking while missing a tooth feels like.”

“Hehe. Yeah, you wish.”

“Wishing is for people afraid to act. Let me remind you, I am very much a do-er.”

The laugh that escapes Floyd is genuinely amused. Jade drops fake malice from his grin into something softer. At least, Jade can count on his brother for when matters in life get too complicated, both can retreat to this small dormitory and rely on the other.

Matters of dating are so complicated and unnecessary. For moray eels in the Coral Sea, the equivalent of dating involves typically half a decade of elaborate gifts and proving themselves as a fierce protector before a kiss even happens. On land, it has proven to be much more complex. Friends can evolve to lovers; they can vary from lasting three months to two years to the rest of their lives. How fickle. Cater Diamond had mentioned that phrase humans go through, a three month honeymoon, before the other partner ‘flakes out’ (Cater’s words) with their affection. When a child grows bored, they find a new toy under the Christmas Tree to tear into.

Jade likes to think you would not be the type … but, as observative as he is, he knows better. It is almost scary how similar and identical the disposition between you and his brother is. You two are always chasing the next high. Fluttering through life, you refuse to be bored ever.

Which is why, perhaps, Floyd is finally able to pinpoint the start. After an interlude of silence, shuffling through a few more prints, Floyd breaks the quiet with a contemplative sentence. “It’s because of that time ya went to that record store, ain’t it?”

Hooked like a fish, Jade only gives his acknowledgement of Floyd’s response by tearing a lightning bolt through the sticker. A faultline forms through a pinup sitting cheekily on a pair of dice and a heart with a king’s crown hovering over it. As the casino-themed sticker is casted aside into the trash, his twin knows he hit the nail on the head.

“Pike Cichlid again? That guy’s so lame. He’s got nothing on you, Jeido.” And though his twin’s encouragement is genuine and coming from a good place, it is like a teaspoon of water thrown with intent to douse out a forest fire.

That had not been the start. It had been when Jade had already found himself waist deep in this situation. So rarely caught off guard or unsure of where the start is, this whole situation seems to be the equivalent of a trap. Is love not one of life’s most fantastical imprisonment? Covered in saccharine sentiments, love can hide the worst and best in one’s self. It certainly seems that way when Jade found his ankle crunched between love’s many bear traps.

He had only noticed at the record store. Numbness worn off. Pain crashing in. And, after watching you laugh so genuinely and talk so animatedly and dance so freely, Jade realized he had fallen into an emotion that he thought he could avoid for his entire life with demure logic.

“I love that band!” Before Jade realizes what had happened, your hand had slipped out of his. The clunk of your platforms sound like ricocheting gunshots on the floor. “I thought I was the only one that knew about it.”

You glow a bit brighter with your excitement. As a frequent observer, Jade knows when the zenith of your excitement floods through each of your veins like lightning chords of gaiety. It shows so clearly on your face. You have not glowed in a while because of your concerns of filling Cater’s and Lilia’s spots in the band. A band to you is family. So, seeing someone across the store pick up a record you know fairly well, it causes each synapses of joy in your veins powers on; you glow a bit brighter, smile a bit wider.

Before he can even cover the distance between the rows of records, your mouth is moving a mile a minute. You are asking about their favorite single off the album, diving into history you know about the makings of the album, and (simultaneously jumping in place and swaying back and forth on the balls of your heels) talking about the chords you like the most, imagining yourself fully dancing along to them. Your energy is infectious. Like a sun in a solar system, everyone turns their face to you to feel your warmth. It is because of this bewitching nature of yours that Jade is late to revealing who you are talking to.

Until he notices the macaw feather that dangles from the stranger’s left ear and the golden bracelet wrapping up the stranger’s wrist, that odious laugh falling from the stranger’s lips and disrupting your laugh … Insecure is an adjective that poorly describes Jade; it is not synonymous with himself.

Other people have made you glow: Cater, Kalim, Floyd, Lilia, the list can go on. It has yet to bother him with those people. Watching how you glowed at that time was somehow different. It is different than watching Floyd bind himself around Riddle Rosehearts or Azul suction himself to Jamil Viper. The glue between the three of them is tighter than a breakable bind or a suction; their new friendships are insignificant and do not worry Jade. However …

“Nothing on me? I am assured that that guppy is irrelevant. I am hardly worried.”

The way fate sorted out their Unique Magic is nothing sort of an advantageous miracle on Jade’s behalf, what with the way Floyd’s gold eye narrows in skepticism.

“Sureee.”

The center of the situation is this: Jade could not go back to being nothing in your eyes. A sentence to skim over. A body to ignore in the crowd. A musical chord progression you do not find interesting enough to play.

So, he pulls out another tattoo sleeve sticker from the pile.

It depicts a scene of engorged, psilocybin mushrooms with fat stems that travel in a mountain trail spiral. Some of the psilocybin will reach up to the skies on his shoulder. Like a giant artifact, a larger-than-life skull is found on this pathway, vomiting up bulbophyllum phalaenopsis. Which are actually interesting species of flowers Jade would love to tell you about as long as your attention persists.

“Help me apply this.”

“We’re twenty. Why don’t ya just a real tattoo?”

“Pliers or my fist?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got ya.”

If you put up with him a bit longer, he will prove the rest of the student body is dull.

With two of your band members graduated, it has been a wild scramble from both you and Kalim Al-Aism to find people to fill those holes.

This timeline, Jade has outlined perfectly. In September, yours and his relationship was on a rocky tectonic plate. Switching and rolling between the waves of will they, won’t they. Even though you were only friends, Jade had V.I.P tickets to the absolute distress of coming back to practice with only a drummer and singer to make up the formation of a four person band. He has never seen you act so distraught:

“You played bass?” Though the structure of it was a question, it sounds more like an accusation coming from your mouth. Marching into his space, you aim the question slash accusation at him like a knife. Your face and eyes are not friendly at that moment. The expression on your face reeks of perfidy, like he is some knight that committed treason against his King.

Which Jade finds ridiculous and endearing. The emotion in your voice as you ask him about the instrument he used to play in middle school is just so uncharacteristic that it makes him hum happily.

Not bothering to stop in his trek, Jade says with an artful dodge, “Yes. Floyd, Azul, and myself happened to be a band.” Then, he no longer elaborates. He wonders how you found out. Though, right now, he focuses on making his strides short so you can scurry after and match his pace.

“And you what? Never thought to mention it to me?”

There you go, faithfully matching his steps.

“Is it really that interesting to you?”

“I’m in the Pop Music Club. Of course it is.”

“My apologies, I did not anticipate my middle school years would be so interesting to you. Are we to now have slumber parties and reveal our deepest, darkest secrets to each other while watching a romantic comedy?”

“Jade, this is friendship 101! You tell your best friend about your time in a Band.” You say band with the paramountcy as if you found out he has been secretly working undercover for the Mafia. Capitalized importance aside, you look so cute when frowning. He wishes you were his.

“So did you use a Fender, a Gibson; I think you strike me as an Ibanez man! Oh … wait, those brands might not exist here though, right?” The way your frown morphs into genuine sadness causes something odd – concern? – to twist in his guts. Hoping to alleviate your stress, Jade answers punctually.

“I’m afraid I never heard of those brands. I played a Downton brand double bass.”

“... Double bass?”

The face you are directing towards him is horrid. It isn’t cute like when you are drawing your lips into a pitiful pout; it does not have him chuckling with satisfaction when you look at him like he has betrayed you. It is something else entirely. He has seen it before at the start of the Entrance Ceremony, where you surveyed the crowd like each individual was a wad of gum on the bottom of your soles, observing everyone’s matching robes; this is some private university, isn’t it, you spat with disgust.

Is jazz really that disgusting to you? He had never known you hated it so.

As you look at Jade like he is vomit upon your shoes, his heartbeat quickens. Under your breath, you mutter, “Ah … nevermind … that’s not what I meant. Shit.”

“(Name)?”

“Thanks for your help, Jade. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“For that sleepover? I would not miss it for the world,” Jade jokes with his customer service smile.

Trying to appear unbothered, he beams. It is disheartening because you are rushing away from him, lengthening your strides twice as long as his. At least, won’t you depart on a lighthearted joke and laugh with him? It would soothe some of his worries. Yet, you simply rush away, distractedly muttering, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

Then, you have slipped through his grasp once again.

However, that September night, about three months ago, you did apologize to Jade for your rudeness. As you both took to watering your extensive number of pots housing oleander and planting talismans into the soil to ward off the three, ill-tempered ghosts in Ramshackle, you explained about how you are simply in a rush to fill up the spot that Cater Diamond and Lilia Vanrouge left behind. As the singer, you felt responsible for finding two new players – bass guitar and electric guitar.

Plucking a straw of sage incense from its paper sleeve, Jade assured you it was of no harm. He understood you felt a little lost without the cement foundation of a band. He knew why too. As wisps of sage incense bloomed the stick’s tip, Jade took to telling you, sincere and quiet, that he would allow you to lean upon him if you needed to.

Still caught between the riptide of will they, won’t they, both of you grew flustered. The rest of the nightly ritual of implanting protection charms and talismans against ghosts was spent in silence. That night in the parlor, you two sat a little closer to each other on the moth-eaten couch.

That had been some time ago. Since then, you managed to fill both of those spots after a lot of trial and error. Cater and Lilia had left some impressive shoes to fill, one the wildcard bass player and the other the mediator guitarist. Those sacred spots could not just be given to anyone who could successfully play a simple riff; those spots were meant for someone who viewed music as a lifeline and chords as their heartbeats. At least, that is how you described it to him.

Forming a band – in Jade’s eyes – is much like forming a business. All the gears need to be oiled and attuned to each other. Where one section is struggling, the others must take up the helm. As Azul, Floyd, and himself balanced each other out, you, Cater, Lilia, and Kalim did the same. Though the new gearheads you have acquired might be a bit too clunky or rusted, it seems that your personal business is going well.

Jade only wishes you would not mix business with pleasure – despite the glaring fact that your business is your pleasure.

Jade likes to imagine your pleasure lies somewhere else, perhaps with him.

Right now, Jade is so engrossed and deeply in the middle of business. At least until Floyd barges through the V.I.P door, loud enough that he startles the pen out of Heartslabyul student’s hand. Jade watches, stifling a grin all the while, the delicate roll the pen makes as it falls away from the contact and moves down the marble table.

“Floyd,” Azul barks indignantly.

Delighted and elevated, Floyd takes no qualms with Azul’s harsh tone. Instead, humming a light tune that Jade does not recognize, Floyd sweeps into the private meeting with a drink in his hand. His twin seeks him out right away, making his way over to the couch he is seated upon, nudging a glass in Jade’s face and repeating, “Try, try, try!”

As Jade takes the milkshake glass in hand and swirls the peppermint patterned straw, the words of Azul’s annoyance at his twin are a great thing to hear. “Floyd. How many times must I remind you not to interrupt these important meetings. I’m terribly sorry …” Jade does not listen to the student’s name, having already forgotten it, as he takes a sip of the ruby red concoction in front of him. The taste of chocolate raspberry floods his tongue.

“But, Azuuul, try this.” The peppermint straw is forcibly removed from Jade’s mouth as his twin bends it towards Azul (who sits on the same couch as Jade).

The housewarden’s face crinkles with disgust. “I would rather not. Sharing food with you two is extremely unhygienic.”

“I’m clean.”

“You wound me, Azul.”

“The both of you,” Azul grunts, shaking his head. He turns back to the Heartslabyul student, noticing the pen at the very least back in the victim’s hand. Anger mulled over a bit, he instructs Jade sternly, “Jade, tell your brother to take back his drink. We have specific times that we discuss menu item additions.”

“But I don’t know the recipe, Shrimpy made it,” Floyd whines.

“Well, quite frankly, I don’t care about that. She can —.” But before Azul and Floyd can get into an argument, Jade interrupts.

“Raspberry Riptide.” He looks contemplatively down at the red slush. Takes a sip so deep that his cheeks hollow a bit. “Hm,” he hums with the taste on his tongue, “or perhaps, Red Sea.” The milkshake glass is about halfway lighter than before when the vice-housewarden stands up elegantly.

“Huh?”

As Jade starts to speak, musical and low, he methodically takes off his blazer plus scarf and rolls up the sleeves of his lilac undershirt dorm uniform. “I’m quite assured we have everything completed here. Our dear card soldier seems to have come to a conclusive decision. I’ll return shortly.” And even if the card soldier is hesitant, the way Jade’s new tattoo moves as he flexes his forearm should be warning enough. Don’t make a dumb move.

As Jade and Floyd exit, the sound of a pen scribbling on a contract their departing sound, Jade reflects on how much influence tattoos hold.

Appearances are influential. One must learn how to construct their appearance to be what they want to be perceived. Perception starts with the linear body, speech and action comes secondary. The beginning there is easily defined and clear-cut. How you look makes all the impact stick, as Floyd has found with shoes and Jade has found with keeping his outfits ironed so neatly that not a thread is out of place.

Tattoos hold a certain volatile quality about them. Coming in such a wide variety of styles, images, and spots, each tattoo is scrutinized by an outsider’s perspective with so many unpredictable thoughts. Their father has an oceanic canvas of the Sea Witch dragging the princess’s boat down to the watery depths, all done by the extensive method of chisel tattooing. The scene inscribed upon his shoulder blades and spine commands respect. Depending on how a person wants to present themselves, they seek to alter their appearances in the best way to match their embellished image of themselves.

You’re in your uniform. Jade observes it as Floyd and him close the distance with a warm smile. Not an NRC uniform of any sorts, rather the uniform Crowley gave you for your job as janitor. You are not enrolled as a student in this college on account of having no magic.

Your appearance goes like this: the top of your coveralls is tied around hips to expose the tight, form-fitting tank top you have underneath; bumblebee yellow mechanic gloves are gripped in your right hand which you balance on your waist; a pair of thick stereophones hang around your neck (ones you found in the back of a dusty, unused computer lab); and, lastly, there is a smudge of oil on your cheek like a delicate kiss.

“Try hitting the switch now,” you instruct the Mostro Lounge worker. “Don’t hold it longer than five seconds but don’t do it less than three either. Got it?”

As the worker does as told, Floyd whispers to his brother, “Shrimpy been textin’ ya back?”

Displeasure presses an intimate kiss to Jade’s lips. As he scowls, he says with polite resistance, “As of this moment, no. That is typical though; her communication device is quite primitive and, frankly, faulty on its best days.”

“Hey, if Shrimpy heard you talk about her pager like that, she’d slap ya.”

“Perhaps. But I’d accept any reaction of her’s.”

“Sap. Ya let her kill ya?”

“I would not be opposed.”

And since they are drawing closer to you and the trash compactor you had been fixing, his brother sings one last time, “sap~” before pushing Jade towards you. Not as though he needed the shove, you were his final destination after all. Still holding the milkshake glass, predictions about what you will name it floating around in his head, Jade presses the chilled glass upon your pierced ear.

You jump; you squeak like a mouse; then, you turn your body sharply towards Jade with wide, surprised eyes. How absolutely adorable you are. The hand holding your gloves holds itself protectively over your ear as you stutter, “J-Jade! What was that!”

Giving you a toothy, mischievous grin, Jade pulls the drink so it is eye level with you. “Shouldn’t you recognize your own handiwork?”

Get it; as you are a handyman of this college? Jade waits patiently as you open your mouth, perhaps to tell him he isn’t funny (he is) or – well, your retort is unknown as the student by the sink’s trash compactor cheers happily, “it’s fixed!” And whatever fleeting amount of your attention Jade was gifted with immediately flies towards your actual handiwork. You are a bird forever uncaged.

“Good,” you say. “Now, be more careful with what goes down there. Pasta and bread, no matter how little of it, shouldn't be thrown out in the disposal. It clogs. Got it?” The staff member nods as you take to slipping your gloves inside your coverall pocket. “Good, good,” you tut in repetition.

With that, you lean down to organize your suitcase of screwdrivers and wrenches. You are filing away your hex keys by sizes. As you do, Jade steals your attention once more, “Have you ever considered working at Mostro Lounge?”

You stifle a laugh and reply with sarcasm — without turning to Jade’s disappointment — “, of course. It’s been my lifelong dream to work after high school.”

“If you are diligent about it, I’m sure you can secure the position. It would allow customers to indulge in the drinks from an alien race.”

“Alien? Heh.” Focus entirely on your plies, you click and snap each tool back into their proper placement in the suitcase’s labyrinth. “I was thinking of naming that extraterrestrial drink Raspberry Riptide.” Your head then turns and Jade almost anticipates finally getting to see your eyes. Instead, chin parallel with your shoulder, you continue, “or Red Sea. I couldn’t decide.”

“Both are creative choices.” Jade smiles fondly behind you, proud of himself for guessing correctly both of your workshopping names for the drink you made. He thought surely only one of them would be right.

“Too much alliteration in the world.”

“I disagree, you can never have enough alliteration.”

“Riveting Raspberry Riptide?”

“Riveting, Rapid Raspberry Riptide?”

You laugh, hand hovering by your lips, and it is as if all the tides have gently washed over Jade’s body. Whenever he is around you, it feels like he has drunk hundreds of candied milkshakes and smoothies. So saccharine, your mere voice leaves a tattoo of sweetness on his taste-buds.

“You’ll have all your customers tongue-tied trying to say it,” you chuckle and close your suitcase. The back of your neck is exposed as you latch all the locks. Truly, you do leave yourself too unguarded around him.

You almost hit him with your thick suitcase as you whirl up and around, giggling happily, “Hey! What’s with you today!” The back of your neck drips with the condensation from the bottom of the Riveting, Rapid Raspberry Riptide’s glass. An appreciative hum bristles in Jade’s ribcage as he catches the scent of dark oil and rich sweat radiating off your body.

Finally, looking at me again.

“I assure you, I’m acting as I typically do.”

You appear unconvinced. “Mmm, yeah right.” Those seductive witchcraft eyes map a miniature flight across Jade’s visage. “Hey, you aren’t in uniform. What gives?”

He wonders how long it will take you to discover it. Scrutiny is not a labeled weakness or strong suit of yours; your observance skills are perfectly average. However, Jade’s patience for this has been biding a fair enough amount of time until you two collided paths again. He wants to drink your reaction now. Swirling the fountain glass, red undulating in the glass like blood in his veins, Jade waits.

“Well? Is this a guessing g–?” Then, your torpid eyelashes bounce up, suddenly alert. It is good for you that Jade has a .00001 probability rate of ever spilling anything in the lounge, or you would have ended up with a new color on your tank top. “Holy hell! Jade!”

“Fufufu … don’t squeeze too hard now. The skin is quite tender.”

You hold onto Jade’s right arm as if it is a rope thrown out in rescue. As if it can save you from the boredom you must have felt all day without him here at your side. Content to be a helpful hand, Jade allows (perhaps even preens under) your constant ministrations. You are like an unstoppable force. He only has to stop when you attempt to twist his whole arm, which would have surely split Riveting, Rapid Raspberry Riptide all over yours and his shoes.

A mischievous (yet almost softly giddy) smile anchors up Jade’s lips. Silver teeth peek through as he requests, “Would you perhaps kindly indulge me on your … mile-a-minute thoughts?”

Bouncing on the balls of your feet, tracing the lines, you are full of energy. Each time your nail scrapes across the outline of a psilocybin’s stem or traces along the edges of the skull, it sends a brillant tingle up his spine. You look as if you hope to memorize the new artwork upon his skin like it is enchanting braille.

“Jade.” You squeeze his wrist and he thinks the bones might bruise. “Jade!” A wide smile blinds. “This is so, so cool! And the mushrooms! Oh, I love that it fits you so well. There’s more above your elbow right; does it go all the way up? When did you get this done?”

“Floyd helped me with it last night. The design –”

“He did the design!” You turn your head, waving at Floyd who is pestering and stealing bites from a line-cook. “Floyd!” His head springs up. “This looks so good!” From far away, Floyd’s thumb pops up to get you a positive response, chewing on rosemary bread he stole. Your mouth only halts from shouting out something from across the room again, uncaring of who hears, when something wet touches your cheek.

Like a turtle, you shrink away. Wide-eyed, you turn bewildered to stare as Jade as he removes his thumb from your cheek. “You had a bit of oil on your face.” The material of his glove is slick with his own spit and your oil. It seeps into the fabric like gray moss.

Those centipede legs of mascara flutter. Your face slowly morphs to a brighter hue, rosing up with a blush, as you suddenly turn your head away. It almost seems like you will continue your conversation with Floyd. Has his actions offended you? He had anticipated a thuggish smile on your face, not a quick, avoidant head-turn.

Under your breath, you still urge him to tell you more about the tattoo by saying, “It is a very intricate design. You and your brother work well together.”

“Fufufu, I’m glad you think so.”

You blink hard twice at the floor before remusing being yourself. Looking up at him, you question, “So, how’d it feel to be under the needle?” When he gives you a befuddled quirk of his lips, you supply him with, “during the tattoo?” That does not clear up his confusion.

“It was done with a sticker. The magical properties –”

“Boring,” you mumble under your breath. It is an ugly truth; you never say comfortable lies, too blunt for that. No guilt is your eyes. Perhaps because you thought he did not hear.

Your words spear through Jade’s chest like a whale-hunting harpoon. Or more appropriately, eel-hunting. Yet, he continues steadfast in his explanation, making sure not to stumble once. “Magical properties make it –” Yet once more, he is interrupted and it is by a student saying that they need you to look at the light fixtures while you are still here, maybe Mostro Lounge blew a fuse somewhere, could you please check?

Everyone needs to disappear. It is the only coherent thought in Jade’s mind as he shimmers silently in anger. If everyone could go away today and forever after, he would not have to play an elaborate game of hopscotch to keep your attention on him.

Always in motion, you reply to the student (who will now be working overtime tonight and receiving less pay too), “Yeah! I’ll be right there!” To him, “ Tell me about it later, yeah? I’m sure it’s … cool!”

Then, you stand on your tippy-toes to kiss his cheek. He imagines the distance must feel like a burden. After such a torturous day fixing areas of the campus, do your toes ache when you have to kiss him?

“Well, I have to shuffle along. Ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

Suitcase in hand, you follow after the student. The glass in Jade’s hand has started to drip, condensation like a dewy rainforest on the shining surface. Love you. He watches you with a forlorn brow, missing you already. Who knows when you two will see each other. It is like trying to keep track of a bus that never arrives on time, always unpredictable.

Until next time, Jade thinks, certain.

A moment or two pass.

You come barreling back into the kitchen.

You almost wipe down a staff member holding a tray of drinks. Yet, still moving like a train, you push a hand under the silver metal, steady its balance effortlessly, and continue on your track steadfast. Your destination? Well, it is quite clear as you drop your suitcase and tightly interlace your fingers with Jade’s gloved ones.

He blinks twice as you stare with the magnitude of a galaxy.

“You! Scarabia! Tonight! Will you come!”

The smile you knocked off his face in surprise slowly re-emerges. Too fast for life itself, you often give out invitations at the last moment notice. Not that he minds as he has grown to appoint free minutes and hours for your spontaneity’s usage.

Slothful and intentional in his words, Jade murmurs for only you to hear, “I would be delighted to come.”

You might as well have bioluminescence with how alight you turn at his mere words. “Sounds razer!”

Then, like a shooting star, you are gone.

There is no need for elaboration from you: him, Scarabia, tonight. Those words make a clear outline for what Jade should be expecting. If it is not a concert in Scarbia, this will be a rare glimpse of Jade’s mental prowess growing old with age.

Imagine that, he just turned twenty last month. No, he is sound of mind. He knows his starts and his ends.

There is a portion of the upcoming Animal Languages exam which he was planning on studying tonight. However, the review can surely wait for another time. It is not often you remember to invite him to one of your concerts. Always racing around, it is a frequent thing for some of your thoughts to slip out your head like cubes of bar soap. An invitation from you is something to cherish.

Jade is intentional when he chooses an outfit that will show off the full expanse of his arm. Besides the top part of his shoulder that is covered by a tee sleeve, the majority of mushrooms are shown. On pale canvas, spiraling columns of psilocybin paint an eldritch picture, slowly growing grotesque. More frayed like torn curtains and oozing like wounds.

If you had only waited a little longer, you would have seen that.

However, one should not fool themselves into thinking a perpetual motion ever stops for one silly person. Jade has always been deliberate when letting Floyd satisfy his impulses. You and his brother match in dispositions. Walking through the maw of a venomous snake with his twin, the mirror shimmering like crystals, Jade knows he only feels so assured of their bond because they are blood. Matching with fingerprints and mirroring irises.

You and him are fragile in a terrarium he is just starting to construct. The environment is so volatile. Jade chews on the words three month honeymoon and the human culture implications of it, as Floyd races away from him, calling out Sea Otter and Sea Snake.

Late in the night, Scarabia starts to cool down. The pocket dimension’s sun sets and the pocket dimension’s moon rises. That does not mean the light in Scarabia is snuffed out though. Instead, acrid scent coats the air like a thick, overused perfume. Sulfur waves puff up from the campfires placed around like chess pieces and trickle out from the lanterns that hang overhead like bats.

His nose is not used to the smell of fire. Magical fire is clean without expelling residue. Fires like the one in Scarabia – correct in nature’s chemical code and unheard of in the Coral Sea – irk his senses.

Still, Jade endures as always.

Walking deliberately, he takes in the sights of campfire light flickering unsteadily. As expected, there is quite a crowd here tonight. Most are Scarabia students, resting on draped carpets or snacking by the hors-d'œuvre, but there are a good handful of Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, and Pomefiore students. Most are gathered near the empty stage, waiting.

Some items feel out of place without their owners. Like how uncanny school hallways and mall outlets can be devoid of people walking in them. The desolate microphone on stage seems almost sad without its owner howling and singing into it.

“Jade! Jade!” But, its loneliness will soon be cured. As will his own. “Jade!”

Jade allows himself to be barreled at. He has been hit harder, but he finds he revels in the weight of your abuse the most. He wishes you would squeeze tight enough to crack a rib (as if it were a mere toothpick) as you hug him and bounce giddy on the balls of your boots.

As is routine, his nose finds the crook of your neck and inhales deeply as you ramble. “Jade! You’re not going to believe this! I get to have the first hour of the set to myself instead of having to wait the second hour! I’m so excited! Hehe!”

You pull back slightly to show him all your teeth, grinning and glowing. With your eyes closed like that, Jade memorizes the shade of eyeshadow you have on your lids. The base color is gold and the top layer mimics a tiger skin pattern. Those pretty witchcraft eyes pop open when he asks, “What will you be playing?”

“Ah, I was thinking some Suicide Machines, some Offspring … Oh! I really wanted to do Inside Out by Eve 6 but I don’t know if our new guitarist has the chords down yet.”

“New guitarist?”

“Yeah, our last one said he needed to focus on his studies more. Truth be told, I think he left because he hated how Kalim’s playing dominated over the guitars.”

“Well, Kalim certainly has a unique way of playing.”

“Yeah, but isn’t it more fun when you try out new things!”

“I suppose so. Playing without any variety is a tedious endeavor.”

“Exactly! Better to switch things up!”

After the hypocritical sentence falls out of your mouth, Jade shifts his hands from your shoulders to the swell of your hips. Now, that’s not entirely true, is it, pearl?

He will not say those words; he does not want to cause you unnecessary pain. However, he lets his hands speak for him as he comfortingly rubs the side of your left hip.

It was a grievous experience to you when Cater and Lilia graduated. You stood before them, bottom lip ceasing to stop quivering no matter how hard you bit it. There were no tear drops hanging on your centipede-leg eyelashes, but your body seemed to be stuck in mid-sob all the same. You did not deal well with band members coming and going. Yet, you slapped on a facade all the same. Perhaps you just choose to rush away from grief in the same manner you choose to rush away from everything.

“I’m sure he is a fabulous addition. Do I know him?”

“Yeah, you do! He’s actually –!”

“(Name)! Ah, I’m glad I found ya. We’re starting in ten, ya dummy.”

Jade is not surprised. The face he wears is one of clear anticipation for this very moment, cool eyes and slight smile lifting as his attention moves to your new guitarist. Truthfully, Jade had been prophesying this exact moment.

He would be a fool to not be at least three steps ahead of everyone in this lawless world. So, sliding a bare hand down the length of your arm to interlock fingers, he replies for you, “Sounds like plenty of time. I won’t keep her for much longer than five.” And then the rest of hers and mine life.

The Scarabia student with the macaw feather earring tears his gaze away from you (good) to look at Jade. His face briefly pinches before flattening out, gruff in his mannerisms yet light in tone, “as long as ya promise to deliver her to me before the show starts.”

“I can assure her punctuality.”

Diverting from eye contact, the Scarabia student looks towards you for your confirmation. “I’ll only be a few minutes, Iago! I’ll be on stage at five!”

Iago nods. When he leaves, Jade notices how many rings are on his fingers. Would that not obstruct him from playing his guitar? “You’re the boss. See ya, (Name).”

“I’m not the boss!” Iago smiles mischievously; you start to laugh. “C’mon! You know I hate that!”

“Aye aye, captain.”

You are giggling up a storm as Iago leaves. Big and toothy, like all the ones Jade adores to see. Soft, you glance up at Jade and there is something carefree in your witchcraft eyes, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. “He reminds me of,” then you say your old guitarist’s name. The one from your original world.

Sea-urchin quills pierce his lungs like balloons. Jade’s hand tightens around yours as he is going to lose you again. Expression neutral, he hums, “is that so?”

“Their mannerisms are kind of similar! Their playing style isn’t a perfect copy but it is pretty damn close! It’s like … a warped fingerprint of each other … ya know!”

He supposes he does not. Jade never met your old guitarist, probably won’t ever either. Praises, however, were sung loud and often enough to feel he had sat down in a past life and drank tea with your old guitarist. As a retired musician himself, he knows a bit about the DNA residue of other musicians – most intimately he knows Floyd’s and Azul’s musician thumbprint – that he can safely nod. “Similar but not quite identical.”

“Similar but not identical! Yeah!”

How enthusiastic. Cute. Jade opens his mouth to dissect (and maybe exploit the weaknesses) in your old guitart’s playing style with Iago’s when you are suddenly squeezing his hand tightly. “Jade! Wow! This is!” Your eyes are glued to his arm, mesmerized. How enthusiastic.

It has morphed since the last you saw it. Around his biceps, psilocybin mushrooms come apart like time-lapsed fruits, bruised and decomposing in sunken holes. Like a book-cover or sticker coated in felt, you touch the unique texture of real life bulbophyllum phalaenopsis lying on Jade’s porcelain skin. As you pet the orchid family plant, Jade smiles.

“Bulbophyllums are one of the worst smelling plants in Twisted Wonderland,” like a child hearing a story, your eyes draw up to observe Jade, “they grow deep in the heart of the Sunset Savanna. Warthogs are the only animal that can digest them and their smell is said to drive men to want to cut off their noses.”

“I would ask how the smell would work against the undead, but I would rather keep my nose intact.”

“As would I.” He taps you on the very appendage. “An adorable feature deserves to stay on an adorable face.”

“Is there a reason they smell so bad? Like are the pheromones supposed to protect something?”

“It is to deter most animals looking for a snack. Once past the smell, there is –”

“(Name), Kalim can’t find his drumsticks!” And though your attention was fiercely focused on him, it evaporates like a drop in the summer sun. Your neck almost cracks with the speed you use to turn back towards where your band members are gathered. Iago waves at you urgently.

Lip wobbling, you murmur guilty, “Jade…”

“Go. I’ll be off to the left side of the stage. Perhaps, if it is not too much strain, blow me a kiss?”

You turn with gratitude in your expression. “Thank you,” you breath relieved. Before you race off, you gift him with something even sweeter than a blown kiss from the stage. You press your lipstick painted embrace on his cheek, leaving a mark that is dark as fresh blood. “I love you. Thank you.”

Logical and intelligent, Jade is correct about one thing irrevocably. The microphone stops looking uncanny as you take it in your grasp.

It is as much a part of you as his sturgeon scale earring is a part of him. An undeniable accessory to your body that you fit into the mold of yourself like a puzzle coming together. Microphone held in your grip, you speak minutes later (rarely without shouting), “This is a song that came out last year in my world before I came to Night Raven. It was September 1998. And, at the start of my senior year in high school, it was all anyone heard on the radio. I practiced it every day after school until I memorized the chords. I decided when I graduated in 1999 that I was going to be a woman like that – a rockstar.”

Kalim, energetic, slams a beat on his drums, getting the crowd hyped. A grin materializes on your face. Fond, you shuffle a few steps back on the stage, looking towards your drummer, before turning to face your beloved crowd.

You howl into the microphone — everyone … please make some noise!! — as the band starts to play.

Jade thinks to himself, there are certain places people belong.

The first time you two officially met, it was after Azul’s overblot.

Too distracted about the success of having two hundred and twenty-five magicless students under his thumb, Azul had not anticipated the slothful Leona Kingscholar deciding then and there would be a perfect time to destroy the contract between the two housewardens. Given Kingscholar’s haughty disposition, it was only natural that he would take to unraveling each and every contract Azul ever made. From there, the spool of Azul’s self control unraveled until he was naked, lying on the floor, come undone like a sweater.

In the aftermath, sprawling among his unthreaded mind and magic, Mostro Lounge had suffered significant damages.

Smashed plates, broken tabletops, shattered ornaments, and an indoor aquarium leaking out corpses of fishes and intestines of underwater plant-life. Jade himself happened to lose a one-of-a-kind tea kettle that was a family heirloom. However, his grief was a mouse compared to the elephant in the room: the irrefutable fact that Azul had truly lost so much in mere hours.

Not that Jade held any doubts that Azul would bounce back better than ever. There has always been an undercurrent of confidence in both Floyd and Jade that is Azul trips, he comes back sprinting.

A rich image, though, if you imagine a slow, eight-legged Azul ever being able to achieve a sprint; simply, it is all metaphorical.

Hilarity aside, yours and Jade’s colliding paths happened after Azul’s overblot. It is an easy start to label. Puppetered by fate or perhaps coincidence, Jade had found himself unable to fall asleep that night. A teacup, drank down to the granular leaves at the bottom, sat on both the nightstand of Octavinelle’s housewarden’s bedroom and his own brother’s bedroom. Not wishing to usher himself into sedative-induced sleep just yet, Jade slipped into the wreckage of Azul’s restaurant and found you dancing upon it.

Now, you were not vindictively celebrating a release from contract. Nor were you particularly happy about the overblot in general. At this point in time, you have not even met Azul before, much less held a reason to revel in his misfortune, but still you danced.

It is a violent twitching and lurching motion like you are trying to dispel a ghoul out of your body. Juxtaposingly, it is a gentle swaying and gyrating like you are performing on the thawing, icy floes of northern waters. It is a combination of motion Jade has never seen before. Some he will later learn have names and rules about how they are done; others are merely the eldritch and true hypnotism of music puppeting your body.

I think I know them; Jade squints. Perched on the stone walls in the courtyards. Caught in the middle of cleaning an empty classroom. Finally, the memory flutters in: you, pitching a fit at the Headmaster, saying you did not want to be attending college, much less a private college.

You are the janitor. He knows you. Not intimately (and he does not even know your name) but he does recognize who you are. Dull and colorless in his world, there is no reason for you to be here when Jade came to the lounge to fight his own insomnia through cleaning up the mess.

And, you aren’t even cleaning up anything. You might as well be a thousand stars away, a hundred planets, and ten galaxies away from this place right now.

In hand, you have your trickling mop which you strum invisible frets on. As if determined to wring music out of a cleaning supply, you violently took to dipping it as if caught together in a macabre tango, jerking it like horse reins, and pounding it against your sternum when a particular hard chord is struck. Despite the violence, it would take a blind man to not immediately recognize you know what you are doing with your fingers.

As you strum and pluck at air, the motion in your phalanges reminds Jade of the incessant twitching of shrimp legs as they glide down underwater vegetation. Fluid as if you were a machine constructed for the purpose of playing the guitar until fuel runs out, your programmed raison d'etre.

Jumping like a restless rabbit, your boots slam upon the lounge floor. Pound. Airborne. Pound. Airborne. It is a repeat that only ends when you plant them both down. Your hip ticks back and forth as if you are balancing on a surfboard. Then, in a mannerism he has seen of many beastmans, you throw your head back and howl.

It is not at all like the cacophony of those beasts. From your pursed lips, you eject a bewitching melody that threads itself through Jade’s ears like a dangerous conjuration. It causes the teapot in Jade’s hands to tremble slightly.

“Awooooouuuuh! Got you where I want you!!”

What peculiar lyrics. He has never heard anything like that before. Although, with the pair of ancient headphones over your ears, you might as well be as unreachable as the moon. Jade still has to evacuate you from the lounge. Talented singer or not. Holding onto his kettle of sympathy, he makes his way over to you.

The only reason that there is a .00001 probability rate of Jade spilling drinks in the lounge instead of being a plain 0 is because … well, frankly, it is sentimentally embarrassing. Yet, when you turn around, lyrics like cigarette smoke on your lips, and face him, you perform a spell. Now, Jade knows you are magicless.

This knowledge is contradicted by the way your eyes instantly cut each of his Achilles tendon and drain all tangibility of his legs from underneath him.

Or perhaps it is because of the spot you left wet from the mop.

“Dude! … Sir! … Um, shit! Whoever you are, ugh! Idiot!” Headphones yanked around your neck, you race forward and leave your mop-guitar behind.

Now, Jade has not had legs for as long as his peers. He got them at seventeen, practiced with them over the summer at Land Boot Camp, and he is now nineteen in his second year of college. So for approximately two years, he has been anchored by hamstrings, calves, ankles, etcetera. He is familiar with them enough to know when he cannot recover from a fall.

It is quite a shock to the walking eel-mer when he does not in fact hit ground – despite the clear, piercing sound of another family heirloom being broken to bits, at least he can fix this one, all the chipped pieces congealed in one place – and it is not an act of magic this time.

“You okay there?”

Starstruck, Jade blinks at your face hovering over his. Briefly, he feels your knobby knee on the small of his back. His body is bent uncomfortably like an abused violin bow; yet he feels no dull sense of pain. The touch of your embrace is irreplicable, as pleasant as home. Into your swirling eyes, Jade stares and recalls a childhood memory from the days that legs seemed an impossible addition to his body.

The bottom of the northern Coral Sea is dark and cold, yet it is home. Additionally, it is not entirely the bottom of the sea where he grew up. There are still depths unexplored before in that great expanse of stretching black sand.

Jade is seven and a quarter (he likes to count his age meticulously) when he comes across one of those unventured abyssal areas that he has never seen before. He knows he has gone further than ever before because he has never seen such an eccentric trench before. When he is eighteen, he will find that manholes closely resemble the sight.

It is one giant manhole. It is like some behemoth man carved a circle into the seabed. Where the black sand underneath him is seeable, this sudden descend is full of a nebulous black without any sort of gray or silver shadows. A ring of ineffable ebony.

It is wide enough that if he stretches his tail across he might be two feet off from measuring out the mere radius. The diameter is twice (and then some) as long as his tail. Approximately, Jade calculates diligently in his head, the trench is 5.282 meters long across. And since it is a perfect circle (this has Jade entranced as trenches do not form like this in the environment) it is a full 5.3 meters in each direction he could swim across it.

Not that he would dare. No. He is too terrified to even calculate the time it would take to swim that distance.

Yet still: “Goin’ to swim across?” His mother eggs him on.

Young Jade looks behind with wide eyes. A swarm of impish intent is swimming in those violet blue hues. He loves his mother dearly but her errant ways are sometimes too much for him. Now so more than ever. As he feels his sinking stomach drift down and down, he replies dutifully and clearly to her troublesome inquiry, “No, Mama.”

Then, because he is still a child, his eyes mistakenly slide back to the circular trench. His stomach lurches. Jade relocates behind his mother. He tries not to let his chagrin show as she laughs at him, high pitched and musical like a witch.

She eventually turns her head around, talons delicately placed on her chin which is parallel with her shoulder. Like jellyfish tentacles, her deep black hair sweeps across her nose and cheek much like scars. Jade shivers at the water breeze, not cowering but using his parent as a shield.

“Afraid, baby?”

“No, Mother.”

“Do not lie.”

“... I’m not afraid.”

It is a half-truth from a squeamish boy. But it is spoken with the conviction of a man. So, his mother only turns her head a bit more to glance down at Jade who stays firm behind her back. Her violet blue eyes narrow like they are knives meant to dissect his larynx.

She likes ugly truths and loathes comfortable lies.

A soft smile graces her face. And, Jade, who was keeping his eyes intently focused on his mother’s slithering teal tail, steals a quick glance up at it. His tense muscles unwind. Then, as his mother does whenever one of her two boys hide behind her, she grabs Jade by the black strand and tugs him hard in front of her body.

She digs her talon in his shoulders, almost draws blood (would if he were anyone else), and pushes his body to overlook the trench.

His mother does not relent, even as Jade binds his tail around her forearm almost hard even to break the bone (would if she were anyone else). Without a single whimper, he squirms in her harsh hold. His dual-colored eyes are wide in fright. The abyss looks bottomless. If his mother loosens her talons, he will surely fall in and never be heard from again.

Delicate and dangerous like a nightmare, his mother puts her head onto Jade's and whispers, “fear, insecurity, and anxiety are like curses. You’ll learn about curses soon in school. The more power you give them, the worse it gets for you, Jade.

“So,” here her grip relents finally and Jade starts to unwind his tail from her forearms, “banish it.” The cavern swallows like flowing sheets undulating over his head.

That exact feeling is mimicked by the stare in your witchcraft eyes.

And those eyes fall all over town.

#twisted wonderland #jade leech x reader #jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader #punk jade leech #twst jade

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broken-glass-puppet · 1 year ago

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Ok so Miguel request

Whar about Miguel (or basically just the spider team form atsv) x male reader that acts like a jumping spider and kinda look like it too

So the reader is small and very quick in his feet, he can also jump way farther than any of the rest, but he also has the other spider abilities. And I just imagine the reader being an anomaly and accidentally being teleport to HQ and they try to capture him, but he's all skiddish and nervous and just jumps away from them every time. In the end someone manages to calm the reader down (you can decide how, maybe with food or some shit) and the talk to the reader. And the reader just answers in very short very quick answers, and he's still very nervous

Aahhhhhhh I'm sorry I wrote this, this is so long!!! But I hope you do mangage to write it, but no pressure, I don't want to force anything

Okay, im going to use this for my spider sona

Fast and nervous, not good combo

You runned and jumped for...one, two, three...then multiple for two...damn you weren't good with math, but what can you say?! If someone had a lot, and I mean A LOT of Spidermans running after them, they would run too, I mean, they don't look friendly... specially that one with the red and blue suit...a bit more specific?...the one with the talons...so you runned and jumped and...did what a spider would do! You thinked you managed to get them away when suddenly-

"There you are!" Someone grabbed you and tied you to a chair with spider web, it was that man...hmm...tall, tan skin, hooked nose, deep cheeks...is that a Mexican accent? "Now.talk"...you started hyperventilating and squirming and moving "hmm...if you keep moving it will stick to you more chiquito" you looked at him and started breathing slowly

"yo dude, you shouldn't be like that" another voice said, he was...goth? No...Punk? Yeah that kinda looks punk...oh he has a guitar...

"I'll ignore the fact that you just called me 'dude', now...back to you.Name"

"[redacted]"

"where are you-"

"earth [insert here number]"

"how did you-"

"I was in my dimension, in my room and suddenly I saw this big portal and one thing went to another and here am I..."

Miguel sighed, pitching the bridge of his nose "are you always this nervous...?" He said looking at you up and down..."i have to admit...you jump and move really good...you are slippery and quiet..." He said while walking a bit closer to you "I'll untie you...don't you dare try to scape you hear me cariño?" You nodded, he untied you, you got up immediately, oh...oh he's tall...you are kind of small compared to him hehe...you looked around...you looked back at him...and runned away, in part it was for fun...what would he do...he sighed and chased after you...you giggled...this was REAAAAAAALLY fun...he's almost as fast as you!...you runned for...half an hour? And hour?...you stopped and took a deep breath...you looked around.. oh...oh is that...a burger...a bit wouldn't huuuurt...

"coño, where the fuck is-" Miguel cutted his sentence and looked at you devouring the burger, hmm, okay... nervous? Check, fast? Check, jumps a lot? Check, likes food? Check...he walked behind you quietly "boo" he whispered in your ear

You almost dropped your hamburger, you gulped the rest that was in your mouth and looked at him "hey?" Miguel smiled sarcastically "you know what was the only thing I told you not to do?" "Y-yes?" "What was it?" "To not...run?" You said smiling nervously "yes, and what did you do?" You looked at him nervously "I runned?" He smiled sweetly but it was a sarcastic smile "exactly...now..." He tied both your wrists and putting you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes...food thing you finished your hamburger...

He went to his...office? Would you even call it that...he sat in a chair near by and sighed, you still in his arms..."look kid-" "don't call me that, it's weird" "why would it-" "I'm sitting in your lap and you call me kid?" He looked at you and sighed "okay, what should I call you" "[nickname]"..."okay okay...now [nickname], will you let me finish a sentence for Once?" "Yes..." "I want you to join me" "after you chased me all over here?! Yeah, no" he chuckled seeing that you were refusing "feisty one...i like that..." You couldn't help but smile at that

Oh boy, you two were going to be REAAAAAAALLY close

Please i loved this type of reader, please z person who requested it, please use this type of reader, i want to see more of him

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the-kr8tor · 9 months ago

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hihi!! I hope you're having a great day and a new year!

I have a small fic request (u can take it any other forms u want, all up to you!) Can I request a fic where reader asked Hobie if he would rather elope instead of a normal wedding? Since he doesn't like the idea of getting marriage (My hc by the way). Eloping is still kinda like a wedding but just the two of them! No loud music, not alot of money spent etc etc! U can write on how they would do it!

(also I'd like to imagine this is them getting 'enganged' before having the twins HEEHHEHEHE) (i hope this isn't too much) (i would love to see on how you'd write this!!)

reader can be gn or FEM btw :)

Thank you for the adorable request 😘

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Brown/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: No use Y/N, no specific description of the reader (r is mentioned wearing makeup though), lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie watches you sing with the band that's currently playing further away on stage. He dragged you out behind all the crowd so you could properly enjoy the concert without getting elbowed by someone. He doesn't mind standing that far from the stage since he gets to see you dance unabashedly when there aren't a lot of people this far back.

The music isn't that loud from where you're both standing, helping Hobie hear your singing, providing a front row seat to your very own concert. He thinks you deserve top billing from how you belt out the lyrics.

The strobe lights illuminate your face, lighting up your best features, add it up with the moonlight shining directly at you like your very own spotlight, he can't get his eyes off you, lips softly smiling, fondness seeping out from his pores.

You feel his stare before you feel his featherlight touch atop your arm, knuckles brushing on your skin, goosebumps spreading through them like fire.

Grinning at him, you wipe sweat off your brow, guessing the summer heat has probably melted all of your makeup, thinking that you look worse for wear.

“Yeah, Hobs?” He once hated that nickname but with you saying it, it might as well be his given name. He loves it if it's you who says it.

Hobie has never seen you look so beautiful even with your mascara running down your cheeks. He's seen you at your worst, loved you more through it, and will continue to love you through your best too.

He loops his pinky around yours, clammy hands meeting equally clammy skin. He blames the weather for the lack of physical affection, if it weren't for the heat he'd be embracing you like a boa constrictor, taking your breath away without devouring you for dinner of course.

“You okay? You look like you're about to pass out. Do you want to sit down for a minute?”

His next words shocks you both.

“I have no idea where we go from here.”

“What?” You chuckle nervously. Maybe you should've worn waterproof mascara. “What are you saying, Hobie?” You forgo his pinky, opting to hold both his hands instead.

Your frown tells him he should've thought this through.

“Sorry,” he laughs shakily, none of the usual Hobie charisma you're used to. “I meant, fuck this is hard.” he's sweating, why did he decide to wear leather vest and heavy boots in this heat? He blames the weather for his shortcomings.

Your heart falls in your stomach. “Are you…are you breaking up with me?” words barely strung together with your tongue tied up.

“What? No!” Hobie backtracks in a split second. “No, love, that's not what I meant.” shaking his head, he removes his hands from yours, deepening your frown.

In an attempt to fix his blunder, he cups your face, thumbs rubbing just under your eyes, spreading the dark ink all over your skin. He definitely needed to think it all through.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, mascara running with the wetness, turning you into one of the heavy metal band mates that played a couple hours ago.

“Shit!” He roams his face around the concert hall, not knowing how to fix the situation.

“What did you really mean, Hobie?” You sob, balling his shirt in your hands tightly.

Hobie inhales and exhales, collecting his thoughts properly. “We're living together.”

“Uh huh.” You nod, confused.

“We clearly love each other.”

“You're just stating the obvious.” you pause your weeping when he groans in frustration. “What is happening?”

“I–” his next words surprises you more than him. “I wanna fuckin' marry you, love.”

You blink rapidly, tilting your head, utterly flabbergasted. “Huh?”

“That's what I meant with ‘I have no idea where we go from here.’” he sighs, facepalming, pursing his lips. “I want to take another step forward with you, but fuckin' hell I hate the bloody pomp and circumstance of it all.” A smile spreads across your face with every word he says.

Did he just ask for your hand in marriage?

“At the same time I don't think we have to marry just so people would know how committed we are to each other.” He's rambling and you smile wider through mascara filled tears. “Not to mention the fuckin' government knowing about all of it, seriously, why can't they just mind their own business about—”

“Hobs,” it's your turn to hold his face, he stops speaking, his chest heaving, eyes glued to you. “Let's elope then.” Hobie mentally conks himself right on the head for not thinking that. “just us, no two hundred guests, no thousands of pounds needed for the ceremony, no stuffy officiant. Just us and our vows.”

Hobie laughs at himself before he places his head on your shoulder, he can't believe he just asked you to spend the rest of your life with him.

Nosing your neck, he embraces you fully, swinging you slightly to the music that's definitely not for slow dancing. Holding on to him, you kiss his hairline, tracing it with your lips.

While Hobie recuperates from his blunder, you on the other hand feel like you're about to burst out of the seams, flooding the entire venue with your love for the man before you.

After the song ends and they announce the new act, with the roar of the crowd Hobie has one last thing to add.

“Let's do it now.” Hobie lifts his head, facing you in all your glory, heart shaped eyes staring at him affectionately, face aglow with so much love that Hobie can feel it flowing directly to his chest. “Let's elope right now, say our vows, we don't need an officiant to declare us married when the band corroded coffin works just as fine.”

“With a few hundred witnesses and a cover band as our wedding singers?” You loop your arms around his neck, linking your fingers together just to hold him closer. Nodding, you can't help but giggle. “Sure, let's do it right now.”

“You first.” Hobie thinks he chose right.

“Nu-huh, you asked, you go first.”

With a joking huff and a thumping heart, he eggs you on.

“I think the bride goes first.”

“Yeah? You've been to a ton of weddings?”

He laughs, the sound is better than the band playing in the background. And in that musky concert hall, underneath the stars and strobe lights, you do your vows.

“Okay, I'll go first.” You clear your throat, hands shaking not from nerves but from excitement. “I vow to always mend your wounds when you get home.” He smiles, eyes shining with unshed happy tears. “But I can't promise that I won't complain and nag you the entire time.”

Chuckling, you continue. “I vow to always be understanding, and to love you until I'm six feet under ground and even then I'd continue to love the shit out of you, Hobart Larry Brown. Even love your government name.”

Hobie can't help in anymore so he leans in but you stop him with your hand shielding your lips.

“You're horrible.” His words lack venom, all love and endearment pointed at you.

“I just vowed to love you unconditionally and you call me horrible?” Your words are muffled that he barely understood it. Yet he still pecks the top of your hand, to satisfy his need to kiss you. “You're not allowed to kiss me, not until we finish our vows.”

He rolls his eyes comically and you laugh. Your lips hurt from all the smiling.

Face hot, (not from the weather) you wipe his cheek free from sweat, leaving your hand to grasp his face. You hope it's enough to convey how utterly in love you are with him.

“My turn?”

“Mm-hmm”

Hobie inhales, he has fought a bunch of villains who wanted to end him but asking you if you want to marry him has him more terrified than facing green goblin. He's exhausted just from that. But he's more than ready to do this, to make his vows. It's only you isn't it? The love of his life who's currently staring at him warmly.

He's glad you agreed to elope, he can't imagine doing this in front of a hundred guests.

“I vow to always come home even when I'm beat up and bloodied. I'll crawl just to get to you.”

If your makeup wasn't ruined before it's properly ruined now with how much tears you're letting out. A few people look at you two weirdly.

“I vow to make time for you, I'd sacrifice sleep if you ask me.” He whispers the next line. “I'm serious. That's how much I love you.”

You laugh through the tears, gripping his collar, it might look like you're about to beat him up but you're actually holding back from snogging the shit out him.

“I promise to love you as long as you let me.” Hobie takes one of his rings off his finger, a favourite of his, a promise to you. The word wife slips his tongue and it has you almost fainting.

That got you and now you're sobbing your heart out. But after a beat, he lifts your face by your chin to let him look at you, he's right, he chose the right one.

“How does forever sound?” you manage to let out, lips still wobbly.

“Perfect. Forever sounds bloody perfect.” He leans once again, this time you don't stop him.

“You may kiss the sweaty bride.” You laugh and you kiss your husband.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #hobie fluff #hobie x reader #fanfic #spiderpunk

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 5 months ago

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Oh, can you do a smut White Day request for RoR Hades? Basically, reader have a crush on Hades and gives him a chocolate in valentine day. Hades probably received a lot of chocolate that he didn't know how reader truly feels for him until White Day come. He gives others a box of chocolate in return, but for reader he decided to do something special, since he loves her too.

Minors DNI

-You were nervous, but also excited, knowing what today was- White Day! It was the day that hopefully, the man you loved would return your feelings!

-You had gifted him homemade chocolates on Valentine’s Day, putting in the hard work and effort to show him how serious you were about him and today was the day!

-Only for you to see other women around, holding little gift bags from Hades, gushing on their gifts- you didn’t realize that he had gotten so many gifts!

-You were foolish to think that or at least that’s what your brain was telling you- Hades was perfect in every way- how could he not have so many admirers?!

-As you resigned yourself to be just another one of the crowd vying for his attention, you decided to turn around and head home, no longer wanting to be out- mainly because you didn’t want anyone to see you cry from your broken heart.

-You were not expecting Hades himself to be at your home, waiting by the front door for you, you almost turned and ran again- believing this was a trick!

-When he called out to you, you froze, eyes going wide as he quickly came to you, a soft smile on his face which quickly melted into a concerned look, seeing the unshed tears, “What happened?”

-You were being punked- you were sure of it, there was a hidden camera around and people were going to jump out and laugh at you- you just knew it!

-When you didn’t answer, Hades cupped your cheek softly before speaking, “Of the gifts I received, yours was the only one I could tase any love in.” your face was quick to flush bright red, which made him smile softly.

-His eyes seemed to be swirling with emotions as he spoke, “I do have a gift for you- if you chose to accept it, but we need to go inside.” You were curious, wondering what the gift was.

-Twenty minutes later your back was arched as you sat on Hades’ face as his hands gripped at your thighs, holding you there as you writhed, crying out his name as he seemed like he was going to devour you.

-He slurped upwards, and you cried out loudly, “Hades!!” he chuckled, and you managed to look down at him, your chest heaving, seeing your thighs littered with bite marks and hickies as you whimpered softly, overstimulated by his actions.

-He pressed a kiss to your thigh before his hands grabbed your waist, hauling you up before quickly pinning you to the bed, your hair around you like a halo, “You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now~ and you’re all mine~”

-Your back arched as he slowly sank into you, filling you to the brim with his massive size as you let out a breathy gasp, feeling him so deep within you- this was a hell of a White Day gift but you weren’t complaining!!

-He was still for a moment, feeling your warmth before he grabbed your thighs again, giving himself leverage before he started rocking into you, leaving you breathless with each thrust.

-Watching you beneath him was even better than all the times he imagined- you were so beautiful, so warm- and all his.

-His hips snapped hard into yours at that thought, that you were all his now and his pace became hard and frantic, like his goal was to drive all the air from your body as he descended upon you, sucking another dark mark onto your neck as your hands stretched down his back, holding onto him, nails biting into his skin, giving him just a bit of pain with his pleasure, just how he liked it as he groaned out your name.

-You’re not sure how many times he made love to you, but you knew that he spent the night, as he took care of you, since you couldn’t walk, something he did preen over a bit- he held you close, as if you would disappear if he would let you go.

-A soft kiss was pressed into your hair, “I don’t want to ever let you go, Y/N.” your face flushed red again, which made him smile as you hugged him back, a soft sigh of content leaving your lips. He smiled, knowing he never would- he loved you too much to.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror hades

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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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only coherent thought rn is Hyunjin with a tongue piercing going down on reader 🤝

ugh this is everything.

punk hwang hyunjin who got sick of everyone telling him how pretty he is and decided to make himself look terrifying instead. thick black eyeliner, black lipstick sometimes, silver jewellery in his nose, lip, eyebrow, ears, tongue. pink streaks in his long black hair. he still looks fucking gorgeous, of course, but older people are a little scared of him and kids love his coloured hair, and that's all that matters.

it also attracted a certain type of admirer. gone were the girls who wanted to court him and take him home to meet their parents. he now appealed to the type of person who didn't give a fuck about appearances and cared about the person underneath; the people who would adventure with him, let him paint them naked, let him fuck them under the stars.

he caught your eye from the very first second you saw him, in a dingy bar. he'd stuck his tongue out at you, and you'd blushed. "i like your tongue piercing," you'd told him. "it feels even better than it looks," he'd replied.

"come over here and kiss me then." he had laughed when you said this. "that's not what i meant."

soon after, his head was between your legs in the bar's bathroom, his fingers digging into your thighs as he positively devoured you. his beautiful lips looked even better covered in your wetness, plump and glowing.

you came on his tongue and he looked up at you, eyes sparkling. he waggled his tongue at you. "feels better, right?" you could only nod. "again?" "fuck yes."

god, you hoped no one was waiting to use that bathroom.

☆ billy

#screw you anon!! now i wanna make this a full fic #im joking i love u #i just have too many wips </3 #billy's asks ☆#asks: hyune #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin drabble #stray kids smut #sweet baby anon

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thlayli-ra · 3 months ago

Text

Stray (part 11)

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre, Samoa Joe

Pairing - CM Punk/Drew McIntyre, CM Punk/Samoa Joe (past)

AU - Stray AU

Rating - Mature

Warnings - Injury description

Words - ~2,250 words

Summary - Joe finds Punk

Joe didn't know what he expected to find beyond the door but it certainly wasn't a huge circular pit beneath his feet. The chasm cut so far into the ground that he couldn't even see the bottom, making him wonder if it had once been an old sewer shaft or something. There was certainly a weird smell about the place.

Leaning slightly over the railing, he looked down into the consuming darkness below and shuddered. Drew was convinced Punk was being kept here - from his own personal experience it seemed - and, if Joe was being truly honest with himself, he was afraid of what he would find down there.

A staircase wound its way around the edge of the circular shaft and Joe carefully followed it, round and round, further and further down, until he left the light behind like a cloud hanging above his head and the shadows crept in tighter, coiling its way around him. By the time he reached the bottom, he could barely see an inch in front of him and the cold became so biting he shivered through his layers. But it was the silence that spooked him most. A thick silence, unnatural. The kind that greedily devoured every sound around it.

Joe ground his teeth together. What kind of place was this to keep another human being prisoner?

He found a door before him and entered, discovering some kind of engine room beyond. Dark, grey and empty. There was a terrible stench in the air that somebody had sloppily tried to mask with bleach but Joe had been in enough locker rooms and fight cages to instantly recognise the putrid, tangy concoction of blood and vomit. However, a quick glance around the room told him there was nobody there.

His heart sank. Drew had been wrong. They had taken Punk somewhere else.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling it tremble against his lips. What did they do now? How could they possible hope to find one man in this sprawling city? That is, if Punk was even still in Chicago. He could be anywhere by now, and knowing the kind of dangerous men keeping him captive, his time was rapidly running short. They had to find him before it was too late but how?

Joe wished he'd called the police when he'd had the chance.

He turned to leave when he spied something glinting out the corner of his eye. A hook hanging from the ceiling. That was... odd. And down below, was that a chain bolted to the ground? Broken, like it had been snapped in half?

Joe flashed back to the cuff and chain around Drew's ankle! Son of a bitch! He was right!

He looked again and this time, he found the cage. Lodged away in the far corner, so innocuous he hadn't even noticed it.

And there inside the cage - it was not a bundle of rags like he first thought, it was-

'Punk! Holy shit!'

Joe sprinted to the cage and crouched down beside it. Punk wasn't moving. A spasm of horror caught in Joe's throat, recollecting another time he'd found the tattooed man unresponsive but he swallowed it down. He had to focus on getting Punk out of this cage and away from this nightmarish place.

His hands were shaking as he attacked the padlock with his crow bar, eventually snapping it off. Practically ripping the door off its hinges, he bent as far as he could inside to gather Punk up in his arms and gently carry him out.

He recoiled at the sight of some horrid mask they'd clamped onto Punk's face, all leather straps and metal wires. In his haste to remove it, Joe broke every clasp between his strong fingers before tossing it away with all of his strength. It clanked somewhere in the shadows at the far end of the dungeon.

With it now gone, he could see Punk's features clearly. Yet the horror remained.

Punk was a mess! His skin was grey and cold to the touch. There was horrific bruising around his eyes and neck. And his lips, those sweet lips that Joe used to kiss every day, were cut and swollen, dragged back by a tight gag between his teeth. It was knotted so brutally that Joe struggled to untie it, his fingers fumbling as they shook with rage. The moment he removed it from Punk's mouth, his nostrils were assaulted by that same stench he'd clocked in the room and he fought a wave of his own nausea, throwing the soiled rag away with disgust, like it was a burning bag of shit.

Cradling Punk's head in his large hand, Joe tried to rouse the cage-fighter, fearing for a moment that he was too late and he had already slipped away but his chest still heaved. Small, shallow breaths but breaths nonetheless, stretching and pulling the bloodied, tattered skin across his ribs.

There were bandages circling Punk's waist. New, with dark patches seeping through the gauze. Joe held his breath as he hooked a fingertip under the top of the wraps, too scared to pull it down.

'Joe...?'

He jumped at the sound of his name, but his fear was quickly replaced with overwhelming relief when Punk's eyes fluttered open.

'Yeah, yeah it's me,' Joe confirmed through a wobbly smile. 'I'm here. I've got you.'

Punk's hand shot up, quivering like a flower in a storm as he placed it against Joe's cheek. 'It is you,' he whispered with wonder. Then his hand flew to his own face.

'I got rid of that fucking thing,' Joe explained, understanding what he was looking for. 'We're getting out of here. Can you stand?'

'Yeah,' Punk wheezed. 'If you help me.'

Punk gritted his teeth but the second he tried to sit up, his lips split apart and he let out a terrible wail of agony. The sound so piercing that it drove a stake of pure fear through Joe's heart.

'Phil? Phil, what's wrong. Are you-?'

'Keep going! Pull me up!'

He screamed through his teeth the entire time Joe helped him to his feet, and once up, he swayed from side to side like a drunk, his bound hands clutching at his abdomen. Right on the bandages. The nausea abruptly returned.

'What did they do to you, Punker?'

His ex-lover said nothing. Instead he snuggled into his side, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder to hide the tears slipping down his cheeks.

'I hate when you call me that.'

What fragments remained of Joe's heart shattered at the grief in the other man's voice. 'You used to like it.'

'Yeah, back when we were just friends,' Punk whimpered, digging his face in deeper. 'But now... we're more- We're not just- We can never just-'

'I get it,' Joe hushed out, wrapping both of his large arms around Punk and hugging him tight. 'I'm sorry, Phil.'

'No, I'm sorry,' his strained voice answered from the centre of of Joe's warm embrace. 'I'm sorry for fucking everything up! For being the shittiest... the shittiest fucking-'

Punk's shaking was getting worse. He was so cold, like Joe was holding a slab of ice. He pulled him closer, desperate to transfer some body heat into him.

'Shhhhh, shhh, it's ok. It's ok.' A shiver of his own rumbled up his spine and Joe began to feel the peril of their predicament set in again. Punk could barely stand and he needed to help him up several flights of winding, steep staircase. Not to mention the sadistic bastards who'd taken him could return any second. 'Listen, we need to get out of here. I'll help you, ok? We'll just take it one step at a time.'

'Ok.' At last, Punk removed his face from Joe's chest. His eyes were red and swollen, this time not just from the bruising and Joe had to fight back tears of his own. 'Ok. I can do this. Just... ignore me if I make a little noise, ok?'

Joe drew in a long, deep breath, steadying his frayed emotions. 'Ok.'

However, they only took one step when they both froze, ears pricked to the sound of heavy footsteps thumping towards the door. 'Oh shit!' Punk exclaimed, eyes wide with panic. 'Oh shitshitshitshit!'

Instinctively, Joe pulled Punk in, preparing to protect him at all costs as he watched the door slowly slide open.

And a familiar figure peered in.

'D...Drew?'

A sudden change came over Punk. Like a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon to become a majestic butterfly. He straightened up, Joe grabbing his arm to steady him as he wobbled onto his own two feet, and began to move, shuffling towards the tall Scotsman at the other side of the room as if in a trance. Joe held on, clutching him by the wrist tightly but it was no use. Punk kept pulling forward and one-by-one, his fingers fell away until he was forced to let go.

An invisible fist punched directly into Joe's stomach as he watched his lover leave his side. Agonising pangs of jealousy rearing their ugly heads, hissing and spitting at the Scotsman coming into the room.

But he just as quickly batted those feelings off again. It wasn't fair to feel that way. After all, Punk was only doing what he'd been asking him to do for months.

He was finally moving on.

A hurricane of wildly different reactions whirled across Drew's face the moment he spotted Punk. Joy. Relief. Horror. Sorrow. Guilt. Each one hitting the cage-fighter as powerfully as the drum of each pounding heartbeat against his own broken ribs. Once the initial shock had passed, Drew rushed towards him, grabbing Punk's cheeks in his large hands and examining every bruise and every welt on his battered face with a frantic concern.

'I'm ok,' Punk tried to comfort the Scot but his voice was croaky and stuttering with sobs. Those beautiful blue eyes that he'd craved so much flicked down, found the bandages around his stomach and furrowed. 'Ignore those. They're... I mean I...'

Fortunately, Drew was immediately distracted by the mitts around Punk's hands. Scrunching his nose up with contempt, he tore them both off, first the right before turning his attention to the left. But as soon as he removed the second mitt, he let out the most pained wail Punk had ever heard.

'DREW! DREW! WHAT'S WRONG? WHAT-?'

Tears pooled in the Scotsman's eyes as he tenderly clutched Punk's left hand, his gaze darting between the straps around his broken fingers then up at Punk who read his expression loud and clear. 'They tried to get me to tell them where you were,' he explained with a heavy sigh. 'Like there was any fucking chance of that happening. I told them to kill me... instead they brought me here.'

The Scotsman drank in Punk's explanation, a darkness falling over his face. It twisted, right before Punk's eyes, transforming into something so unlike the sweet, beautiful man that he'd picked up off the streets. Something fuelled by rage and hate, something that craved violence and bloody revenge. Punk suddenly remembered how Drew had been forced to fight and wondered if this was the face he wore in the heat of combat.

Thankfully, the moment passed just as quickly. And his beloved Drew returned, chasing the wrath away with a shake of his head. Then he gave a loud sniff and droplets spilled from his eyes. He guided Punk's hand to his lips and delicately kissed the cage-fighter's shattered fingers.

The love and affection that Drew freely rained down on him shocked Punk to his core and the tips of his ears began to grow hot and pink. 'It's not a big deal, really,' he tried shrugging it off, 'I've broken fingers before. Sometimes even popped them back together myself.'

He laughed, too forcibly. But when Drew dropped his hand and instead cupped his cheeks again, the laughter died. He was looking right at him. No... right into him. Deep and probing, seeing past the bruises and bravado, seeing past the cracks, the paper thin mask. Seeing the red wetness of his hazel eyes, seeing the lump stuck tight in his throat. Seeing all his pain. The terror.

Punk hadn't felt so exposed in years. Not since the night he'd cracked his skull and made a rash decision in the haze of his concussion to kiss Joe right there in the hospital entrance as they were leaving. Hadn't felt so unguarded, so... vulnerable!

Yet, just like it had back then, it felt the same now.

It felt right!

Punk leapt up onto the balls of his bare feet, skipping right up to the tips of his toes and planted his lips against Drew's. The Scot flinched, taking a step to balance himself.

Then immediately tightened his grip on Punk's cheeks and kissed him right back.

The most glorious music began to blare in Punk's soul, rousing and melodic, sweeping him right off his toes and up into the air until he was soaring high above the clouds. Their first kiss had haunted his lips like the touch of a ghost but this? This was something entirely different! Full-blooded and passionate. Blazing like the fires of a furnace, sparks flying and catching, the flames spreading as they claimed one another's mouths.

One of Drew's hands grasped the back of Punk's head, the other clutched the small of his back, pulling them closer together until their chests touched. And oh god, he wanted it! He wanted it all. To feel this closeness, this connection, this affection. He wanted to grab at it all while he could, especially when he'd been convinced he'd never get another chance again.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

The lovers broke apart with a lurch, terror in both of their eyes. Looking at each other with a shared dread that only they could fully understand.

For there, standing tall in the doorway, blocking their only means of escape, was Gunther, the General himself!

To be continued…

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#Thlayli-writes #stray au #cm punk #drew mcintyre #punkintyre #drewpunk #samoa joe #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fanfiction

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