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lucalicatteart · 1 year

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Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 14: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should relax by spending his afternoon shopping ..

He trots down the mossy cobblestone walkway, gazing around in awe as he approaches the central hub of the small city. Tiny shops and stalls and carts are woven through the few clusters of taller buildings, with a modest crowd bustling back and forth between them. Despite much of the land being cleared for structures and pathways, it's still lush with greenery wherever it can be, every blank stone wall or street corner dotted with trailing vines and flowering fruit trees.

After spending a good 25 minutes trying to orient himself at the city map directory, he finally finds his way onto one of the primary shopping streets, eager to spend the afternoon lazily strolling about, trying to ignore his physical aches and just take in all the sights as he hunts for interesting items....

...A few hours (and multiple snack breaks) later, the streets begin to glow with a hazy warmth as lanterns are lit, marking the nearing sunset. Possibly because of the fight yesterday, he's felt shakier, more easily startled than usual, and suddenly realizes an urgent need to be safely inside his room at the inn before nightfall. He wanted to stay out longer, see the lights and the crowds, fascinating scenes of city nightlife he's never been exposed to before.. but, his nerves are impossible to ignore.

Begrudgingly preparing to slink off towards the inn in a sweaty anxious panic, he stops in the doorway, resolving to at LEAST buy himself ONE nice item before he leaves. He doesn't have much money, sure, but it'd be a shame to simply look around all day and not get anything. All travelers need to collect their souvenirs, right? But.. What should he get?

Additional Information (feel free to skip this part, it's just extra context for people who are interested lol)

just for record (in case it influences what people think he should buy), this is the adventurer's current inventory contents:

small journal + pencil to document his travels (and a few colored pencils for sketching plants or doodling)

a basic travel guide booklet

a simple map of the area

a small glass lantern case you can put candles in

fire starting materials

basic matches

first aid kid (a few bandages, simple antibacterial balm, some dried herbs that can be used for minor issues like stomach aches or nausea)

one metal cup, one metal bowl/plate thing, one metal fork/spoon, a cooking knife, and one metal pot for cooking over the fire

a basic toiletry bag (toothbrush, herbal mixture toothpaste type thing, bar of soap, one towel, a rag, a few disposable paper napkins, moisturizing oil, hair brush, a tiny cracked mirror)

three bottles of various spice mixes for flavoring the plain/bland food he usually forages on the road (+ plain salt)

a glass jar of berries

a container of plain dried oats

a container of dried beans

half a loaf of stale bread

one carrot he found

a bag of dried fruit

about 15 coins (maybe equivalent to $45 USD in our world money lol)

a basic fishing kit (simple lures, hooks, string)

two containers of canned fish just as a back up in case he ever can't find fresher food for the cat

a cheesy fairytale romance novel about people going on a grand heroic journey, to help give him inspiration to continue on his own travels and be the ultimate Super Cool Adventurer Hero

an old folded up letter from his family

a fabric pouch of cool shiny rocks + other trinkets he's collected

one change of underwear, one change of socks, + winter gloves

foldable saw

some twine/string

a basic sewing kit (2 needles, one spool of thread, a thimble)

lawyer's business card (from boat party)

lawyer's fancy expensive giant scarf (also from party)

1 lunchbox of vegetable dumplings (from Innkeeper)

2 canteens of water

a small dagger for cutting rope, vines, multipurpose anything

a little tin of mint & rose flavored candies for when his mouth gets dry

a box of cubed dried chicken as cat treats

a box of fancy tea

one large rope

a roll of fabrics (one thick blanket for padding when sleeping on the ground, some basic tent fabric to make shelter from, a few spare fabric scraps, 2 cloth napkin/towel things, two cloth sacks for extra carrying capacity if needed)

1 pouch of dried meat

5 candles

Innkeeper's hand-drawn map to her brother's hideout

and of course, the Mysterious Egg in a little wooden box

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

#paventure posting #poll #polls #choose your own adventure #Just a fun shopping day! what shall he get? :0 #Also the cat is riding on his head in the image but I picture more that the cat probably sits on his shoulder or just #follows him on the ground when he's walking around. probably shoulder is best in crowded areas so they #don't get separated. I just can't draw the cat on the shoulders because of the more like ''chibi'' art style. his head is so giant there's #no room for anything on his tiny shoulders that are covered up by his hair anyway lol #If I drew him in my own actual more realistically proportioned style then. maybe #I should do a ''normal'' drawing of him.#maybe like a a character sketch to show his outfit fully or something. But..eh #I finally made the writing shorter again. The past few days have been too long. but I'm working back towards like #3 paragraphs or less. Today is 4 but still.. better than some of the other days. Which those days I did also have to describe #more but still. I do these super super quickly so it's better for it to be shorter if it can be lol #the writing SEEMS longer since I did also include his entire inventory but jhjknk #I just LOVE thinknig about inventories. Part of the pictures I want to post on my main blog at some point if I ever finally #edit all of them is I gathered a few items from around the house and made little fake adventurer inventories #like just groups of things someone might carry around. This was months and months ago it just takes me THAT long to actually #find the time/energy to edit and post photos lol. But for whatever reason some of my favorite Unnecessary Details to fixate on #(and I LOVE fixating on small pointless details) is like.. what someone is carrying aroun with them. What they have in their bag #and why and what it says about them and what it looks like and the story behind it and where they got it and etc.#Of course his is pretty plain because he barely brought anything with him. but still lol.. I'm leaving his backstory up to interpretation #since he's kind of a character where most of the decisions are made by other people. so I'm not sure if he doesn't have much because #he used to be a poor farm boy or something. Or maybe he just was so overexcited to leave he forgot to pack enough. maybe he's just #bad a planning. maybe he's rich actually but his parents didnt want him to waste his time on adventuring so they didnt support him #or buy things for him and he had to scrap it together himself. etc. etc. Whatever the case. He has ENOUGH to be prepared #and to survive generally. but it's all very like. flimsy basic stuff. materials that tear easily. bent metal pot with dents in it. etc. lol #ANYWAY.. new poll adventure.. this one did take a little longer than I wanted but not as long as the last one. Trying to get back on track #I will hopefully have less dr's appointments in april. so.. aaaa

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paulietehblooxd · 6 months

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Happy Halloween heres susie as a sexy vampire lady.

#no not THAT sexy vampire lady (marceline)#susie deltarune #deltarune susie #deltarune #susie #art #wow I actually drew something for once :0

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smol-tired-binch-blog · 1 year

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I do kinda hope we get a sequel, it’d be nice to be able to talk about Lorabetta again

#smol has a vent #this aint as bad as my other vents but it's still a bit melancholy to go in my normal 'speaks' or fandom tag #cause like i dont wanna make out like 'oh the attentions not on ME im LEAVING this fandom' cause im not. but like.#it's one of my only fandoms ive ever truly been In. i made friends from it. i developed OCs for it. discussed the lore and game with others.#i was INTO it and made one of my favourite OCs ever. and people actually wanted to know about her!!!#people asked me about her!!! we made our OCs interact!!! thats not happened before!!#i finally felt like i was in a community! but of course things have lulled these last few months #which is only natural of course. people have their own lives and stuff to deal with they get into other fandoms its natural its normal.#the server aint fully dead most of us are still kinda there. i hope it picks up again at some point #but yeah no i finally drew a Lorabetta comic for Easter and i was PRAYING this might get more attention than the last one (which was 0)#cause i was following up a previous comic! one that got attention! i shared it in the server and....#nothing. no one cared i suppose. ik she's not like the Best or Most Popular OC in the fandom. i dont think she even registers #on a fandom-wide scale. but she matters to me. and it mattered that other people were interested. and that interest just...isnt there anymor #didnt help i nearly had her ruined for me over something i really shouldnt have got so upset about but i had no way of like assuaging #my worries so i lowkey spiralled a little bit so it left a sour taste in my mouth. another reason drawing her comic meant a lot to me #telling myself 'i still love her'. i want others to love her too. is that a lot to ask? maybe. ah well. such is life.#i reckon a sequel would also be very fun but i mostly do just want a reason to go back to Lorabetta. maybe Mollinda too #im sorry i left you by the wayside girls. and sorry to Lanabelle and Edithana for never developing you. but ya meant a lot to me. still do.#'wow shes apologising to her OCs thats so fuckin sad' yeah maybe but im a sensitive bitch me. its how im built lol

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archie-sunshine · 5 months

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Peacetime(Hot Rod Gets Slammed Down Bigstyle)(TF: CYBERVERSE)

SYNOPSIS: Hot Rod is bored during the relative peace that the wall has brought. He comms Soundwave for some fun. Soundwave says Hot Rod can't handle more than a quickie with him. Hot Rod makes an ill advised bet about it. (aka Hot Rod Gets Slammed Down Bigstyle)

Word Count: 4,764

TAGS: Soundwave/Hot Rod, overstimulation, humiliation, degradation, frenemies with benefits, rivals with benefits, face fucking, dirty talk, valveplug, denial, teasing

Author's Notes: spiritual successor to the soundrod art I drew earlier this week. please enjoy!

It wasn’t as if peacetime wasn’t needed and loved and wanted on Cybertron. Not at all, really! Who could complain about a world without fighting, who could complain about a world where for the first time in millions of years Hot Rod didn’t really have to watch his back?

Well… Hot Rod could. Things had slowed down, people were worrying about stuff like infrastructure and public services and reconstruction. Things were going back to normal but it was a hard sell, especially considering the entire populous was comprised of antsy trigger happy veterans who’s ‘normal’ was waiting for the call to arms. The wall certainly didn’t help either. Tensions were cooled between them, especially since the Quinteson incident, but there were still plenty of Autobots who scowled at the concept of just letting the Decepticons be after millions of years of intergalactic war.

Hot Rod probably should have counted himself in that number, but he had it on good authority that the Decepticons weren’t all the same sharp, frightening cookie cutter shape that some bots painted them as. It still fragged with Hot Rod’s processor that he could be the type to stand up for the honor of a Decepticon, but… not all of his fellow Autobots had the experience that he did.

All that complex dichotomy aside, the fact was that Hot Rod had gotten a bit fond of some cons. Particularly the inscrutable, obnoxious Soundwave. He didn’t exactly have a name for what he and Soundwave had, but it was fun. It was thrilling.

It was a series of ill advised hookups that technically broke the laws surrounding the ceasefire wall deal, but Hot Rod liked that kind of danger. It was the same reason he kept getting in bed with a bot that could have- and probably should have- killed him a thousand times over: Hot Rod was a thrill seeker.

And so, as Hot Rod entered his hab unit and the lights flickered on, he was already in the process of comming the other mech.

HR: Heyyyyyyy

Hot Rod took a seat on his sofa, flicking on his holovid projector and beginning to flick through the channels. He had to have something to keep him occupied while he waited for Soundwave to respond after all.

SW: What do you want.

Curt, annoyed, and curious were all good things for Soundwave to be in Hot Rod’s opinion. They were a good look on him, even over text.

HR: You free tonite? ;P

He briefly paused his channel surfing on some old rerun of a- now ancient- cybertronian soap opera.

SW: Maybe. Why?

Hot Rod raised a brow ridge to himself. Maybe? He pondered the best way to continue for a klik.

HR: Maybe?

SW: I have work to get done.

HR: Sounds boring. You should come visit.

SW: You gonna make it worth my time?

Hot Rod grinned, reclining into the sofa and kicking his pedes up on the table. Bingo. He fished around for his handheld transponder, fiddling around to get to a camera function. He let his legs fall apart and brushed a tantilizing servo up the edge of his panels as he snapped a picture and sent it off.

HR: I always do ;0

There was a long pause, maybe a few minutes even. Hot Rod kept opening and reopening their comms chat in his processor, willing a new message to appear.

Finally, after what felt like an hour(but was actually 5 kliks), Soundwave responded.

SW: I’ll be there.

It was fun to mess around with a partner like Soundwave, usually mechs and femmes alike were falling all over themselves for a piece of his hot speedster frame, but Soundwave played hard to get. It was- again- thrilling. He didn’t get why he was so into it, but he wasn’t about to examine it either.

Hot Rod stared at the door to his unit, attempting to lounge gracefully(and sexily) as he waited for Soundwave to enter. He’d poured two cubes of engex for them to share, the kind that soundwave liked, the really light blue stuff.

The door to the hab slid open.

“Glad you could make it, how was traffic?” Hot Rod crooned, attempting to look effortlessly relaxed

“You know I always go through the backstreets.” Soundwave said, stepping in and letting the door close behind him. He strolled up to the couch Hot Rod was reclining on and shoved his legs out of his way before sitting down. Hot Rod looked at him indignantly, wrinkling his nose at him.

Soundwave ignored the look, picking up his cube and turning his faceplate away from Hot Rod to drink.

“Things all good on your side of the wall, Wavey?” Hot Rod asked, sitting up and trying to recover with a different sexy pose.

“Don’t act like you care, drink your engex.” He retorted flatly, gesturing at the cube.

Hot Rod rolled his optics and picked up his own cube. “You’re no fun.”

“That can’t be true, considering you’re the one who keeps bothering me for a quickie.” Soundwave raised a brow ridge at the speedster.

“Welllllll it doesn’t have to be a quickie, does it?” Hot Rod flirted, starting to sip his engex. “You could have me the whole night.”

Soundwave snorted. “Please. With your stamina? You couldn’t handle more than 2 hours, let alone the whole night.”

“I could too!” Hot Rod snapped. He took an indignant swig of engex and folded his arms. “I bet I could run circles around you.”

Soundwave finished his cube, slamming it on the table and finally turning to face Hot Rod. “Bet you can’t.”

“Well why don’t we find out?” Hot rod sneered, all flirtation melting away in favour of competition. “We’ll make it a real bet. 50 shanix says I can take whatever you throw at me, 4 hours of whatever you can dish out.”

“Whatever I throw at you? You’re playing with fire, Hot Rod.” Soundwave’s voice had lowered a bit, clearly showing his interest.

“Well thats fine then, I can take the heat.” Hot Rod boasted.

“I don’t want your shanix.”

“What?”

“I don’t want shanix.” Soundwave repeated, shifting a bit closer, looming over the other’s frame. “When I prove you wrong, the next 3 times you need a hookup, you’ll drag your sorry aft over the border to my hab unit and beg me to spike you down in person.”

Hot Rod’s engine flared, heat coming up to his faceplate. “W-Well alright-! And when I run circles around you, uh- um-” Hot Rod wracked his processor for a good enough punishment. “I get to put it in your port next time we do it.” He stuck his servo out with a malicious grin.

Soundwave shook it, not letting go when Hot Rod tried to pull away. “You’re gonna regret this, Hot Rod.”

Some had called Hot Rod a bit of a nymphomaniac. It was a bit of a harsh word, and not at all true, he thought about and did plenty of things other than interface. Others called him shareware, which was rude, but… not an unfitting title. Everyone knew he got around, which to some more uptight bots would be considered a mark on his character.

Hot Rod just considered it practice.

He leaned into Soundwave’s servo as it slid down the top of his crest to the back of his helm. Soundwave’s spike was heavy and thick in Hot Rod’s intake, sleek white and smooth on the bottom with blue ridges around the top. He could feel his cheeks distending from the stretch as he bobbed his helm in the larger mech’s lap. His fans had kicked on a few kliks ago, shuddering to life as his frame fought against overheating. He let the tip of his spike rub against the back of his throat, laving his glossa luxuriously against the underside of Soundwave’s shaft.

He allowed himself a pleased little hip wiggle when the larger bot stifled a moan from the stimulation, which earned him a tighter grip on the helm and an exasperated scoff. “You’re ridiculous.” Soundwave grunted, rocking his pelvis up into Hot Rod’s mouth and making him choke. He just slid his dermas tighter around Soundwave’s spike and pushed himself down harder. He forced back a gag as it passed into his throat, nearly hitting his vocalizer as he began to nestle his nose against the top edge of Soundwave’s lifted modesty panel. He swallowed around him, flicking his optics up to the other mech’s and winking.

HR: still think you’re gonna win?

SW: Want me to stop going easy on you?

Their gaze stayed locked on each other, a spark of competitiveness glinting in Hot Rod’s optics.

HR: Do your worst, big guy.

The comm had barely appeared in their channel before Soundwave shifted his position, rolling Hot Rod over onto his back with his spike still in his mouth and beginning to thrust deep into the autobot’s waiting throat. Hot Rod let out a choked gurgle. His servos flew up to claw at Soundwave’s thighs.

“Don’t be so dramatic, I know you can take it like a good bot.” He growled out, steadying himself on the arm of the sofa. The rhythmic clank of Soundwave’s hips hitting Hot Rod’s face filled the room.

Hot Rod’s optics flickered and thinned out as his fans roared. He could feel his frame shuddering. He was so desperately wet and strained behind his panels he thought he might die. He could feel the pings in his processor demanding him to relieve the pressure, demanding he open his panels and let his array breathe.

Soundwave slammed in particularly hard, hitting the back of his throat. Hot Rod let out a muffled whine, his thighs quivering as he fought to keep his throat from spasming. He began to open his panels, hoping to give himself just the barest amount of relief.

A servo jammed down between the gaps between Hot Rod’s panel and abdominal plating, holding his modesty panel shut. Hot Rod’s back arched. A gurgling wail escaped his vocalizer, drowned in intake lubricant. “Ah- Don’t think so~...” Soundwave chuckled, keeping his spike hilted in the speedster’s throat. “You wanna last, don’t you?”

“Mm-Mghhf!” Hot Rod growled, squirming under the bigger bot. He went to bite down, finding Soundwave’s other servo coming down to jam a thumb between his jaws to keep him open.

“If I knew you were gonna be this much of a mess, I’d have asked for more from you.” He taunted, beginning to grind his hips into his throat again. “Keep those panels shut, got it?”

“Mhhn…!” Hot Rod whimpered, offlining his optics as he willed his modesty panel shut.

“Good bot… see thats the nice thing about you autobots.” Soundwave grunted, once again beginning to jackhammer into Hot Rod’s throat. “You always do what you’re told.”

Hot Rod growled indignantly, hoping to sound intimidating and angry. It came out more like a gurgle, spittle bubbling around the edges of his intake.

“You can’t help it, can you? It’s in your programing, any big bad mech could walk up to you and if he told you to jump you’d ask how high.” He laughed raspily, pulling out almost all the way.

He watched Hot Rod’s chassis heave and quiver for a moment, trying to get his frame under control. He watched the speedster take a long, heavy in vent, waited until it was about to leave him, then jammed his spike back home.

Soundwave savoured the desperate choking noise that eked out of Hot Rod’s throat.

Hot Rod wheezed. His frame felt taught and overheated, processor fuzzy with pings warning him of the stress on his throat and jaw, the strain of his fans, and again, begging, PLEADING for him to open his panels. His digits weakly gripped at Soundwave’s plating one last time before limply petting at the metal there. His frame went pliant and limp underneath him.

Soundwave laughed to himself breathily, slowing to a halt and carefully drawing his spike out of Hot Rod’s intake. A gush of prefluid and saliva splattered across Hot Rod’s chest. The autobot coughed weakly, glaring ineffectually up at Soundwave.

“Want me to go back to being easy on you, Roddy?” He taunted, bringing a servo down to stroke slowly at his own spike.

“N-No chance…” Hot Rod growled hoarsely, sitting up and wiping at his face with the back of his servo.

“Good bot. Let’s get you to the berth then.” Hot Rod couldn’t get a word in edgewise before he was being lifted bodily off the sofa and flung over Soundwave’s shoulder.

Hot Rod cycled his vocalizer, coughing again and continuing to wipe his dermas. Embarrassment nibbled at the back of his mind at his messiness. He wanted to flip the positions, try pistoning into Soundwave’s- well if he had an intake he’d frag it silly, see how he liked it. Hot Rod was broken out of his stewing anger by the sound of Soundwave snickering to himself.

“What-!” Hot Rod snapped, the question cut off as Soundwave drew a digit up the edge of his panels. Oh no.

“You’re leaking, Hot Rod.” Soundwave sing-songed. He gathered the prefluid up between his digits and rubbed them together absently as he unceremoniously dumped Hot Rod onto his berth.

The speedster quickly squeezed his legs together around his panels, trying to hide his eagerness. He winced at the feeling, rivulets of slick prefluid smearing against his plating. Soundwave looked down at him, amusement clear across his borderline unreadable faceplate.

“Shut up…” Hot Rod muttered.

“You shouldn’t have made the bet.” He chuckled, reaching forwards and effortlessly knocking Hot Rod’s legs apart. He stood between his knees, slowly smoothing his servos over Hot Rod’s armour. “Nice paint job, you buff it before I got here?”

“Pfft… no, you’re not worth the trouble..” Hot Rod rolled his optics. For the record he had shined his armour a bit before Soundwave got there, but that wasn’t even for him! It was… y’know, for someone else.

“Oh I’m not worth the trouble?” Soundwave arced a brow ridge. “So who were you thinking about that made this happen, huh?” Hot Rod hissed as Soundwave knocked two of his knuckles on his panels, optics fizzing and fritzing as his processor produced yet another urgent pressure warning for his array. It was starting to hurt, he could feel his array hot with energon, mashed against the back of the panel.

“H-hhn- S-soundwave-” He gritted out, clenching his fists.

Soundwave leaned down to whisper in his audial. “I dunno, Hot Rod, I think this was all me right here…” Hot Rod’s invent punched out of him in a surprised moan when Soundwave ground the heel of his palm against his panels. He dimly felt his processor ping another warning. His engine revved loudly as he arched his back, helm clanging against the berth.

“But if you’re so sure it wasn’t we can call off this bet right now, call it a draw, let you get your valve pounded out by some other mech, huh?” Soundwave crooned. Steam poured out of Hot Rod’s dermas.

“N-No-!” He whined out too quickly, his face suddenly even hotter with shame. He went to dismiss his needy beg,“I- hhahhh-” The words fell apart in his vocalizer. His jaw dropped open and his optics went lidded. He ground his hips up, his array burning as Soundwave pressed his modesty panel down against the soft protoform with two digits, slowly moving the panel in little circles. “Ggghh- P-please- Primus- frag- j-ju-just lemme open- S-Soundwave-!” He babbled, gripping at the bigger mech’s sides desperately.

“Aw… Hot Rod, are you saying… you can’t… take it…” Soundwave drew his words out slowly, venting steam into Hot Rod’s audial.

“N-no- I can- ah- I’m- Hhuaahh- I’m f-fine- I haven’t evennNnnNn gotten ss-st-started!” He tried to boast, even through the embarrassing moans that he was letting out. Finally Soundwave let up, and Hot Rod went limp against the berth, fans stuttering to vent off excess heat.

Soundwave leaned back and folded his arms, looking down at the autobot as he shuddered and whined. Hot Rod tried to look aloof and fine, even with the coolant already beading on his brow and the way his frame was quivering like a leaf.

“S-...See? I’m just fine… completely normal.” Hot Rod panted out, giving Soundwave a shaky smirk.

“Alright. Open up.” Soundwave ordered, flicking his panels one last time as Hot Rod jolted and glared at him. Hot Rod offlined his optics, body shuddering as he finally opened his panels. He felt embarrassment, hot and thick, gathering in his tanks. His spike shot out of it’s casing like a rocket, already pulsing and drenched in prefluid. His valve was no different, puffy and needy, his anterior node peeking between the plush lips. He was completely soaked, so much so that a puddle of the stuff splattered out onto his berth as his panels tucked away.

Hot Rod bit his glossa to keep from howling as Soundwave drew a digit up through his lips, over his node, and up the underside of his twitching spike. “Primus you’re easy. Can’t believe you got off this much on me fragging your throat. Maybe I should do it more.”

“Not on your life- n-not after I win-” Hot Rod taunted feebly. “You won’t be able to walk right for a week when I get done with you-O-OUH-”

“You’re cuter when you stop talking so much.” Soundwave sighed, rocking his fingers up to rub at the front two calipers of Hot Rod’s valve. He drew his fingers apart, mapping the edges of his yielding hole as he brought them down and together along the edges.

He pulled his servo back, lifting them to Hot Rod’s waiting intake and jamming the two slick digits in. Hot Rod wined, saliva dripping from his dermas as Soundwave mashed the flavour of his own prefluid into his glossa.

“That’s enough foreplay, don’t you think?” Soundwave teased, cocking his head playfully.

Hot Rod could feel his legs quaking. He felt like he was going to break his dentas from how hard he was gritting them. His fans felt like they were on the verge of melting under their own heat.

Soundwave stroked his servo up Hot Rod’s spike again, squeezing just enough to milk out another dribble of prefluid. He could feel every burst of steam that escaped the bigger mech’s vents, condensation gathering against the side of the speedster’s helm. He could feel how stretched he was around the decepticon’s spike, but Soundwave refused to move, leaving him impaled on it to suffer as he gritted back his moans.

“You know, I’m not on this side of the wall often, but don’t worry, I know all about the kind of reputation you have… I hear you pick up so many mechs you might as well be a taxi service..” Soundwave murmured in his audial, spreading his digits over the head of Hot Rod’s spike and teasing the edges. “How many of them treat you like this, huh?”

“Nnn-N…None-!” Hot Rod gritted out, offlining his optics to focus on venting the heat and not immediately crumbling to a pleading mess. “T-they’re all act-tually NICE to mm-mme!” His voice stuttered as Soundwave drew his digits up again, teasing his slit and massaging the shaft lightly.

“Thats funny, I didn’t think anyone had the time to be nice to a nasty little piece of shareware like you…” Soundwave growled, slowly grinding his hips up to push against Hot Rod’s soft protoform. Hot Rod bit his derma tightly, clenching his digits around Soundwave’s thighs. That taunt made his processor spin. “They usually use their pretty little valves and toss them aside. Only difference between you and some street walking whore is that you're persistent.”

Hot Rod let out a moan, finally opening his mouth with a burst of steam. He grit his dentas back together, rolling his hips into Soundwave’s palm as he began to stroke his shaft again.

“I thought you’d move on after our little hookup but you're obsessed… they say not to humour animals like you so they don’t follow you home.” Soundwave growled, bringing his free hand up to grip possessively at his chassis. Hot Rod keened weakly at the insult, his faceplate flushed bright pink and hot with energon. “But you can’t help it can you? You love it, you love this spike, don’t you?”

Hot Rod mewled as Soundwave pinched at the base of his spike, rubbing his thumb across his anterior node. “S.. suh- Soundwave-” He gasped, optics sparking.

“Go on, say it…” Soundwave prompted, stroking his hand up his chassis and taking hold of Hot Rod’s chin. “Tell me how you love it, Roddy…”

“I- hhhnm..” He moaned. His optics flickered. He was just being unfair now, rubbing at his node like that while he began to gently thrust up into his valve. “I- l–love it-” He huffed out under his breath.

“What was that? Come on, you can do better than that…” Soundwave teased, rubbing his middle two digits against his anterior node while his thumb came around to stroke the base of his spike. He drew his own spike back, slamming it back into Hot Rod’s valve.

It was like he’d broken something. “I-I LOVE IT!! F-frag! I love your s-spike Soundwave!!” He wailed out, spittle flying from his dermas and across Soundwave’s hand. “I love it- I-I love it ff-fraaaag, primus- please- I- Ohhh s-slaaaggg…!!” His voice bounced pathetically as Soundwave began to thrust up into him. He could feel his spike bobbing in Soundwave’s grip, now squeezed tight at the base. “I’m aa-aallyours, nnhh- nomore- ah- no more s-shareware- f-frag- I’m all yours-!” Hot Rod babbled deliriously.

Soundwave chuckled in his audial, before speeding up his servo, his spike suddenly beginning to vibrate. To say Hot Rod screamed was an understatement. It sounded like his vocalizer was being shredded, glitching and fritzing and leaping in tone as overload washed through his frame. He thought he might die, his body shaking as he rode out the sensations that refused to let up. Every bit of his wiring tingled with lightning, every ounce of his frame wracked with pleasure. He felt another burst of steam flush over his audial.

“Loser.” Soundwave whispered.

And that was it. Hot rod arched his back, clanking his helm hard against Soundwave’s shoulder as his transfluid splattered across the floor and Soundwave’s hand. His valve cycled down tightly around Soundwave’s spike, pulsing and throbbing. He was distantly aware he was making some pretty unflattering noises, but more than that he couldn’t even see past the cloud of white that overtook his optics. He jerked and crackled, steaming with spent charge as he finished and went limp against the larger mech’s chassis.

He was ebbing into an early recharge when he felt Soundwave’s servos close around his hips. He snapped back to full consciousness as he felt him swing his frame around until Hot Rod was face down on the berth.

“Bwuh-?” Hot Rod moaned intelligently.

“Oh, I thought you could take a full four hours, Roddy!” Soundwave feigned surprise, pulling his spike back until he was teasing the oversensitive node with his tip. “And besides, you still owe me at least one overload.”

Hot Rod keened as Soundwave slid back in and began hammering into his valve. “Nnnhh-! Oooohhhh Primussss…” He whined, vocalizer shot and hoarse. “I- ah- s-Soundwave I caaan’t!”

“Oh you can’t?” He felt a servo slide from his hips up to his spoiler. Soundwave gripped the delicate bit of metal tightly, using it as leverage to slam Hot Rod’s hips against his. “I thought you said-” there was a quiet fizzle before Hot Rod’s own voice repeated back from Soundwave’s speaker. “I could run circles around you- Didn’t you say that Roddy?”

Hot Rod let his jaw hang open, processor filled with warnings and popups as overstimulation forced his spike to stiffen. “Nn- Nuh uhh..” He moaned.

“Doesn’t ring a bell? How about this one?” Soundwave adjusted his grip, hooking an arm under Hot Rod’s chin and pulling him up into a headlock. All the while his hips jackhammered away. He could already feel the blue paint transfers forming on his aft. “-ag! I love your s-spike Soundwave!!” Hot Rod keened in humiliation at his own voice. “That sounds more like you, doesn’t it, shareware?”

“S-soundwaaave- PLEASE-!” Hot Rod wailed. “I C-CAN’T!”

“I need one last thing from you, Roddy…” Soundwave crooned. Hot Rod could feel his spike twitching inside him, nearing overload.

“U-uhuhh??” Hot Rod whimpered, clawing weakly at Soundwave’s arms.

“Admit you’re a big stupid loser.” Soundwave snickered, snapping his hips forwards and making Hot Rod’s optics fizzle.

A lance of heat shot through Hot Rod’s already overheated form, his body suddenly tense, strung tight with need. Why was all of this doing this to him? He was being… so cruel… “Nn-gguhh-! C-Come onn-!” He whined out.

“Say it, tell me what a big stupid loser you are!” Soundwave cackled, reaching a servo down to begin jerking Hot Rod’s spent spike.

“Oh-OH-OH PRIMUS-” Hot Rod wailed. “I’M A BIG S-STUPID LOSER!! FRAGG-F-FRAG- I’M AN IDIOT FOR T-TUH-TAKING THAT BETTT!!”

Soundwave growled in his audial, pounding his spike in one last time before Hot Rod could feel a gush of transfluid hit his ceiling node.

He felt his vision white out again as his frame rocked through a second, more painful overload. He felt his processor short and then empty, his optics forcibly offlined again.

His frame jerked and spasmed weakly until finally Soundwave mercifully pulled out. To say the gush of transfluid that coated Hot Rod’s thighs was embarrassing was an understatement. It was like a fragging waterfall.

And to make it worse, Soundwave just unceremoniously dropped him on the berth, only adjusting him long enough to make sure he didn’t fall off before beginning to pace around the room. He was making haughty flexing gestures, playing his own personal victory music as he gloated.

“C-c’mon I didn’t do that bad-!” Hot rod panted, lifting his quivering legs up onto the recharge slab. Without even looking at him, Soundwave flexed over his shoulder, conveniently pointing at the clock on Hot Rod’s berthroom wall.

Hot Rod paled. “N-no, that can’t be right.”

“Not even an hour and a half, barely an hour and fifteen.” Soundwave confirmed. He did a nasty little turn, waggling his shoulders as he remixed Hot Rod’s words back at him. “C-c-c-c-could run circles arou-ou-OHH PRIMUS!”

“QUIT IT!” Hot Rod shouted, faceplate flaring with embarrassment.

“-BIG STUPID L-L-L-LOSER!” Soundwave parroted at him, continuing his victory dance. Hot Rod buried his face in his servos, shouting in agony at the embarrassment.

He felt Soundwave eventually sit on the edge of the berth, shoving him a bit out of his way as he climbed up to relax. He let his victory music die down as he folded his servos behind his helm.

There was a long klik of quiet between them.

“... you don’t really think of me like that, yeah?” Hot Rod asked meekly. Soundwave raised a brow ridge. Hot Rod Cycled his vocalizer. “Like an annoying animal that followed you home.” He clarified.

Soundwave glanced away. “... No. You’re not like that.” He muttered.

“So what am I like?” Hot Rod probed.

“Tight, wet, and easy.” Soundwave said matter of factly. Hot Rod punched his arm, scoffing and rolling his optics.

“You’re the worst.” Hot rod grumbled. “I don’t even know why I invite you over.”

“Invite is putting a bit of a slant on it.” Soundwave mused. “I didn’t know begging for spike was an invitation.”

“Ha Ha.” Hot Rod said flatly, shifting into a more comfortable position. “Now shut up I’m trying to recharge.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll join you then.” Soundwave said.

“What- No you’ve gotta go-” Hot Rod started, before Soundwave reached over with one harm and pulled him up tight against his frame. He rolled over and squeezed, holding him like a teddy bear. Hot Rod went pink, optics wide and blinking in confusion.

“Night Roddy.” Soundwave said nonchalantly.

“Yeah.. uh… Night Wavey.” Hot Rod mumbled.

Hot Rod offlined his optics, trying to sink into recharge without thinking about how tightly he was pressed against the ‘con. If he wanted he could easily kill him right now, he was already pinned.

Hot Rod let out a long, quiet sigh, leaning into Soundwave’s embrace.

Primus, he was glad it was peacetime.

#transformers fanfic #transformers cyberverse #tf cyberverse #soundrod #soundwave #hot rod #cyberverse soundwave #cyberverse hotrod #transformers #my art #my fic #smut #valveplug

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yamujiburo · 11 months

Note

Personally , the two things that drew me to this ship is Jessie being abre to heat by parenting herself through Ash AND Delia also feeling loved , cared for and part of something .

Jessie : Ok twerp, the first rule of school is that you must to stand up for yourself. They won't mess with you if they're afraid of you .

Jessie , thinking to herself :*actually, that can isolate him and put him in trouble messing with his prospects in life*

Jessie: Never mind what I just said!!! Focus on your studies and make friends if you can. If anyone tries to give you any trouble know you have people that love you and will protect you no matter what, ok ?

Very confused Ash: ok....

And as for Delia, imagine it's lunchtime and Delia is at the restaurant , Jessie takes her lunch hour to go see her because she just missed Delia so much.

Delia: Babe, you saw me this morning plus it's rush hour I cannot give you attention

Jessie : I just needed to come see you and maaaaaybe get a kiss ?

Delia : No kisses at work , you know that.Are you sure you don't need anything else ?

Jessie: I'm good. You packed me a huge lunch this morning , I could even kiss you to show my appreciation...

Delia: Jess...

Jessie: Fine, I'm going then. I'm glad I could talk to you though, I missed you.

Delia: I missed you too. See you tonight !

Jessie: Not if I call you before that !

waaaaah these little vignettes are so cute ;0;

#ask yam

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virgobingo · 6 months

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i actually think about this extra a lot. gege drew the storyboards for the juju sanpos. he purposely had gojo talk about something completely unrelated in the ep 15 short (or at the very least approved it), to imply his type of person. this was done through miwa so a lot of people took it to mean she's his type (or utahime because she's standing there). in my opinion, gege meant to imply it's geto in a very roundabout way. the reason i think this is bc gege points out geto's bangs multiple times. it's even gojo's first impression of him.

also, on niceness— it's worth mentioning that gege frames geto as someone that is kind/pure/considerate in spite of the fact that he's a villain. it's quintessential to understand the nuance of his character, and the reason why gojo was so shocked by his actions. here's examples of what i mean, from the jjk 0 light novel and a random gege interview:

up to the very end of his life, gojo trusted him. i'd argue this trust was rooted in all the times geto showed him kindness. all the "are you okay?"s, the "you worked hard"s. + all the times geto gently guided him (in language, in moral decisions).

tldr: gojo's image of geto was good and the "nice" description also fits him.

then there's this fact too, that connects miwa and geto:

#it's i've connected the dots..... hours #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #jujutsu kaisen

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factual-fantasy · 4 months

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22 asks!! :DD 💖💀🎉💖

@bunny-coffee

@elegysonnet

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! AND YOOOO IM DEVOURING THIS IDEA FRFR-

There's so much sadness! So much angst! AND JEVIL COMFORTING FRISK BY MAKING HER LAUGH?? PERFECT!!!

Now I may be not able to apply this idea word for word.. but I LOVE so much about it! Would you mind if I yoinked some of this? Its great!! :DD

:DD Happy new year!🎉🥳🎉 And thank YOU for sending me a kind message! I endlessly appreciate it 💖💖

@bunny-coffee

:00 Really? Thank you!! :DD I was actually pretty unsure of that detail for Jevil.. Making him round and squishy kind'a made him look too young to me.. but I'm so glad you like it! Maybe his squishiness isn't so bad! :D

:DDD Happy new year!! 💖🎉🥳🎉💖

XD Its been a while since I watched the movie. But I think my reaction was something along the lines of:

"..oh?.... OH..?.... OH YOOOOO---" *excited for angst noises XDD*

Thank you!! :DD As for his knuckle scars, there isn't really one specific way he got them. It just shows that he's rough and tough. He's been through a lot and has been on many dangerous missions.

You know, scraping his hands on rocks, dealing with sharp teethed and dangerous creatures every day.. Your hands would naturally get beat up a lot of you lived like Kwazii.

Aww! How fun! I'm sure Foxy wouldn't mind the company! :}

Foxy: "Oh? Are you a new animatronic?"

Calico Jack: "BIG TALKIN ROBOT-"

Now usually I would say Calico Jack. And its probably still true.. but considering how I'm trying to structure my Octonauts AU.. Inkling might actually be the one who's studied up more on folk tales and mythologies.. 👀

@rockbott0m47 (huh.. in all my days I don't think I've ever received a question like this XDD)

I try to be as factual as possible.. but in all honesty, my factual stops where the lazy begins-

XDD You're welcome?? Ah- Sorry for your loss?? XD I'm not sure how you feel about this realization but none the less thank you! I'm so glad you've liked my artwork! :DD

@nevereatingpeas

:DD THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I'm so glad you like my deign!! :}}💖

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭😭💖💖💖

(Post in question)

WAAAAAHGG THANB YIU SO MCUH!!! ITS SO COOL TO ME THAT YOU SAW ALL THOSE DETAILS!!

Yes exactly! Shellington's "VEGGIE DAD" shirt, Kwazii's bent whiskers and scars.. AND YES YES! THE CAPTAIN IN FULL UNIFORM!! I was thinking that he is an early riser and was up before everyone else was. He's not intending to eat later- he's just already had breakfast! :0

AND YES!! The meals were all correct but one <XD google says that sea otters eat crab. So I googled "crab meat meal" and drew one of the things that came up. It might be a salad thing..? Or a crab pasta thingy.?? Not sure <XDD But MAN the potatoes would have been a good idea too-

One detail that I was fond of was the steam coming from everyone's cups. Though Peso and Barnacles have no steam, because they're drinking cold drinks! You get it?? Becuase they are cold creatures?? Don't like warm things??? I'm so smart 🤣

@itschrisboys

YOOOO THIS IS A REALLY SOLID IDEA!! She could have the guilt of having killed everyone, while also trying to give everyone their happy ending.. Cool! Would you mind if I used this idea? Or at least part of it? Its really neat! :00

@britneyt

:DD Thank you! I'm glad you like that design detail of his XDD

Also thank you again! Happy new year!! 🎉🥳🎉

@beryl-shade

XD My first thought was Glamrock Freddy; "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HIDE YOU NOW GREGORY??"

I do! I'll have to draw them sometime-

@tallchest13-blog

Thank you! I'm so glad! :DDD

@natewithacake

:DD Thank you so much!! I'm glad you like the designs I've given them! :}}}

#my response #octonauts #undertale #deltarune #fnaf security breach

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worseforwords · 1 year

Text

Exposed (Ona Batlle x Reader)

Thanks to @footygirl114 for the title idea! Buckle up everyone, this is a long one.

“Heads up!” Ona’s voice called from behind you and you felt her leap onto your back a moment later. Today was a good day. United had just beaten City 2-0 in a home game and you had even managed to score one of the goals. Your girlfriend waved at the supporters as you strolled past the stands, but your gaze drifted towards an unusual figure sitting some way down the row. With black hair tipped in blue, striking make-up, dark and frayed clothes, and a plaited choker around her neck, she seemed out of place in a football crowd. You were intrigued, something about her felt familiar, though she was too far away to say exactly what it was. As you caught yourself staring at her for a little too long, you noticed she was staring right back at you, and as you drew closer, she gave you a wave. You suddenly recognised her, and your smile faded. She must’ve noticed your sudden revelation, as she sent you a quick wink.

Your stomach dropped and panic set in as you considered what to do. Ona still sat on your back, basking in the glory of victory. You knew you had to go say hi to the girl who was now smiling broadly at you from the stands, but you wanted to do so discreetly, without any teammates, especially Ona, joining in on the conversation, or any cameras for that matter. You let Ona down on her feet, to which she send a quick pout your way, before turning her face back towards the fans to continue the walk around the field. Waiting until everyone was distracted, you hastened to the railing to greet the mysterious girl.

“Hi” you said, quiet as a whisper. “Hey Y/N, long time no see.” she replied, leaning over the barrier to pull you in for a hug. You smiled uncomfortably, scanning your surroundings before reciprocating her hug. As she pulled away, she chuckled, “So, soccer, huh?” “We call it football here.” you answered, trying to match her laugh.

The conversation was short-lived as Ona wandered over, curious as to who you were speaking to. “Hey, who’s this?” she asked, her attention fully on you. “This is Nia, erm- an old friend.” you answered quickly, avoiding eye contact. “Nia, this is Ona.” Ona looked at you confused for a second, probably expecting some sort of label in your introduction, before she brushed it off and quickly shook Nia’s hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.” “Likewise.”

The small interaction sent shivers down your spine. Until now, you had managed to keep your past safely hidden. You had traveled a lot when you were younger, which had allowed you to leave certain things behind, and it had never caught up to you until this moment. It hadn't been hard, as you just omitted certain parts of your youth, namely the two years you spent in LA as a teenager.

Nia broke the silence, turning to you. “So,” she said, “you do remember my name. I was afraid you’d forgotten about us for a second there, Picky.” You froze. Picky. You hadn’t heard that nickname in ages. You avoided Ona’s questioning expression as you tried to laugh it off. “Of course I remember you. It just took me a second, what with your hair and make-up.” you said, pointing at said attributes. “Fair enough,” Nia giggled, “I’ve probably changed my hair about 40 times since we last met. I’m not the only one who’s changed though.” she continued, eyeing your bright red Manchester United shirt. You laughed, “Yeah, I suppose I have.” “Do you still have the tattoo at least?” Nia asked, causing Ona to look up with surprise.

The tattoo. It was the one and only thing you had left from your previous life, a permanent mark etched onto your skin. You had planned to get it removed at some point, but the laser removal was quite expensive, and since the tattoo wasn’t often visible to others, you never bothered to actually get it done. When you started dating Ona however, you knew she was bound to notice it at some point. When she did, you had momentarily forgotten about it when she started pulling down your underwear (really who could blame you for your mind being elsewhere), and you were taken aback by her immediate questioning about the small violet on your hip with the words “can’t take back the bullet” scribbled underneath it. Luckily you were still quick on your feet and you made something up along the lines of it being a reminder to not let your emotions get the better of you and Ona let it slide after that because she too had other things on her mind.

“Yeah, I still have it.” you said with a shy smile, still avoiding Ona’s gaze. “Good, me too.” Nia said, making Ona turn to her sharply. “By the way, Picky,” she started, changing the subject, “you still owe Casey some money, remember?” This was the final straw for you. Too much had already been said, and you needed to get away as fast as possible. You took advantage of a group of fans who called out your names to excuse yourself, pulling Ona with you towards them. After signing a few shirts and taking selfies, you hurried inside.

“What was that all about?” Ona asked as she caught up with you. “What was what about?” You stalled, trying to come up with an excuse for your strange behaviour. “Why are you being weird?” she asked directly. “I’m not, just tired from the game, that's all.” you said, unable to come up with anything better as you headed towards the changing room, avoiding eye contact, gaze straight ahead. “Shit,” you muttered as you sat down, “forgot my coat, be right back.”

As you walked back onto the pitch, you couldn’t resist checking if Nia was still there. To your dismay, you saw her talking to Millie. “Mills!” you yelled, running towards them. “Come with me, now.” You grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the conversation. “Woah, Y/N, calm down, what’s going on?” she asked, shocked by your sudden intervention. “It’s just that,” you paused to think as your eyes scanned the stands, quickly finding just what you needed. “I saw some little girls over there who want your autograph, and I think they’re about to leave without it,” you said, pointing towards a group of young girls holding up a sign with Millie’s name on it. “Oh, thanks. Maybe next time, don’t be so intense about it?” she chuckled. “Noted.” you said, walking with her towards the excited children. “So, erm, what were you talking about with that girl?” you asked carefully. “Nothing really. I just told her I liked her style, and then you pulled me away. Why?” You scanned her face, trying to see if she was telling the truth. For a moment, you thought you saw a small smirk in the corner of her mouth, but you decided not to dwell on it as it would only arouse suspicion. “Nothing, never mind.”

Ella’s voice resounded through the changing room like a joyful bell. “Woooo, party at mine ladies!” she exclaimed. As she settled beside you, she turned to address you. “You coming, Y/N?” she asked, a friendly grin etched onto her features. “Sure, but I have to pop home for a quick shower, forgot my towel,” you replied, hastily pulling on your joggers and coat. Ona began to offer her towel, but before she could finish her sentence, you had already bolted out of the door.

As you plopped down on your bed, trying to recover from the events of the day, your mind raced with thoughts and questions. You tried to make up reasons for your strange behaviour earlier, but nothing seemed to make sense. You knew that no one could know about what happened. It would change how they see you, and you couldn’t bear that. Those two years in LA were supposed to stay in LA, and thus far, no one had a single clue about it. Nia suddenly showing up made you terrified that someone would find out, so when she messaged you asking if you wanted to hang out, you ignored her. You couldn’t risk anyone finding out your secret.

You went to the party, hoping to take your mind off things. However, things only got worse. Ona made quick work of pulling you aside to interrogate you about earlier, asking a series of questions that made your heart race. “Can we talk?” she said. “Who is she? Why did she call you Picky? Why do you have matching tattoos? Why were you acting so weird? And who is Casey, and why do you owe them money?”

You knew that you couldn’t tell her the truth, so you made up some stuff on the spot, hoping that it would be enough to satisfy her curiosity. You told her that Nia was just an old friend from LA that you hadn’t seen in years. You added that she was always a bit of a weirdo and that you weren’t that close. You explained that the matching tattoos were just a silly thing that you and Nia did when you were young and naive and the money thing was just some inside joke. You hoped that Ona would buy your story, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still suspicious.

When Ona finally left you be, you quickly checked your phone, which had been buzzing in your pocket a lot. You’d received a series of messages from Nia, the last one of which being:

“We need to talk. Where are you??”

As you felt increasingly anxious about Nia’s persistent messages, you decided to leave the party early to meet up with her. You quickly came up with an excuse to your teammates, telling them that you suddenly felt unwell and needed to go home to rest, and you texted Nia your address.

Shortly after arriving home, a knock resounded from your door. Hastily, you answered it and welcomed Nia into your apartment. “You’ve got a lovely place here, very grown-up, Picky,” she remarked as she stepped inside. “Please don’t call me that.” you muttered in response as you finally snapped. “Why not?” Nia asked, looking with a confused expression. Mentally debating how to deliver your message, you began, “I’m not the same person anymore.” “Obviously.” She mumbled. “When I got my chance to make it in the football world, I left my old life in LA behind. The person you knew back then is gone, I am no longer her.” you explained. “I don't believe that,” Nia responded, “you can't simply leave and become a completely different person.” “Well, I did,” you answered coldly, “and I’d like to keep it that way. So, please, don’t talk to my teammates again.” Nia remained silent for a moment as her eyes widened.

“They don’t know about us, do they?” she asked, her voice growing louder. “No, they don’t.” You replied quietly. “Woah, are you ashamed of us?” Nia practically yelled. “Of course I am!” you answered a bit too quickly before immediately regretting it. “Sorry, I mean- I didn’t mean it like that, I-” you stumbled over your words, but Nia continued to stare at you with disbelief. “Alright, got it.” she said as she turned back towards the front door. “No, Nia, please, I’m sorry, I-” “Good luck with your new life, I guess, Y/N,” she said, purposefully emphasising your name, walking away before you could finish your apology. Despite feeling guilty, you didn’t make an effort to chase after her. You convinced yourself it was better this way.

“What was that all about?” a voice called from beside you, making you jump. “Ona, hey, what are you doing here?” you asked. “You left the party so suddenly, and I came to check on you,” she explained, “but I suppose you had company.” “How long have you been standing there?” you inquired, curious about what she may have overheard. “Not long, why? Are you afraid I heard something?” Ona asked suspiciously. “No, I just- it’s chilly out here. You should come inside.” you said, holding the door open as she walked inside.

As Ona stepped into your home, she immediately turned to you with a look of frustration etched on her face. “Y/N, what happened with Nia?” she demanded, her voice tinged with anger. “You’ve been so secretive lately, it’s hard not to feel like you’ve been lying to me.” Despite her annoyance, there was a note of confusion in her tone, as if she couldn’t quite understand why you were behaving this way. Once again, you brushed off Ona's concerns, insisting that there was nothing to worry about and that Nia had just wanted to chat. However, Ona was insistent and demanded to know why she had seemed so upset when leaving your apartment.

You found it hard to articulate your thoughts, feeling caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. “Please, Ona, can you just trust me on this. Please just let it go.” you pleaded, hoping to avoid any further conflict. Eventually, she relented and let the issue slide, but an air of concern still hung around her. The two of you went to bed in a tense silence, the events of the day lingering in your thoughts.

Two days later, as you were getting ready for training in the changing room, Millie approached you. “Hey, do you know that cute girl with the dyed hair from Sunday?” she asked. “You mean Nia?” you clarified. “Yeah, that’s the one! Ona told me you knew her. Can I get her number? I want to ask her out.” Millie explained. You hesitated before responding. “Sorry, Millie. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Nia’s bad news.” Millie looked confused. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?” “I can’t really explain, but trust me, she’s not someone you want to get involved with.” you insisted. Millie looked rather disappointed. “Okay, I guess. Do you have her number though?” “No, I don’t.” you replied, putting an end to the conversation as you quickly finished up getting ready.

As you entered the changing room after training, you noticed Millie with a smile on her face, gazing at her phone. Ella also spotted her and inquired her about it. “Who’s got you grinning like that, Mills?” “No-one.” Millie quickly replied, and attempted to hide her phone. However, Ella had already caught sight of it and snatched it from her hand. “Who’s Nia?” Ella asked, looking at the screen. You felt a pang in your stomach as you worried about what she could find out. “Millie, what did I tell you?” you asked, annoyed that she had contacted Nia despite your warning. “How did you even contact her?” “I slid into her DMs. Y/N, did you know sh-” Millie began to say, but you cut her off, worried she might reveal too much information. Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her out of the room to talk in private.

You pulled Millie into an empty room as she struggled to free her wrist and kept asking what was going on. “Y/N, what's the big deal? Why can’t I talk to her?” she asked. “Millie, I need you to stop contacting Nia. She’s bad news, and I don’t want you getting involved.” you explained firmly. “But Y/N, she seems so cool.” Millie protested. “Please, Mills, just trust me on this.” you pleaded. After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly agreed. “Okay, I guess.” she said with a sigh.

You returned to the changing room and took a seat next to Ona. “I suppose that was nothing too?” She remarked sarcastically. You simply sighed in response, feeling unsure of what to say. You gathered your belongings and shot a final stern look at Millie before making your way out and heading home.

During training the next day, you warmed up with Millie, passing the ball back and forth, when suddenly you heard her hum a familiar tune. The sound of her humming that melody made your heart race faster. “What’s that you’re humming Mills?” You tried to stay calm as you asked Millie about the song whilst continuing to pass the ball to each other. However, your clenched jaw gave away your anxiety. Millie stopped humming and looked at you, seeming caught off-guard. “Oops." she said, looking down at the grass. You repeated the question, trying to sound composed, even though your anger was simmering inside you. She looked up with a slight smirk on her face. “It's a nice tune, innit?” You cursed under your breath. “Fuck.”

You gave millie a pleading look as you took the ball in your hands and walked over to her so you could whisper. “Mills, please, I don’t know what you know, but please don’t tell anyone, I beg you.” you said quietly. “What are you talking about? Are you okay?” she asked innocently, but you didn’t buy it. Before you could answer however, Marc called for all of you to gather together to start the first exercise. You desperately tried to compose yourself as the team gathered, your mind racing with thoughts of what Millie might know. Throughout training, you couldn’t shake the feeling of paranoia that someone might find out your secret. Every time Millie came near you, you were on edge, wondering if she was going to reveal what she knew.

That evening you were sitting on the couch in your living room, lazily flipping through the channels on TV when the doorbell rang. You weren’t expecting anyone, but when you got to the door and opened it, you found a package sitting on your doorstep with no return address. Your curiosity piqued as you eagerly brought it inside and began to open it up. As you lifted the lid, you found an old, tattered photograph of yourself with a group of people, all dressed in black. You couldn't believe your eyes as you stared at the photo, realising that it was taken during the time you lived in LA.

You started to feel a sense of unease as you examined the photo more closely, trying to remember the people in the picture. You could recognise a few faces, but most of them were unfamiliar to you. You began to wonder if this was somehow related to Nia, who had recently reappeared in your life. You had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to let go of your earlier outburst, which made her getting closer with Millie even scarier.

As you sat on the couch, staring at the old photo, the sound of the door opening made you jump. Ona walked in, surprised to see you home so early from training. You quickly tried to hide the package, but fumbled with it and ended up dropping it on the floor. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough and she caught sight of the old photo. “Who are these people? And why are you all dressed like that?” Ona asked, pointing to the group of figures in black, their clothes torn and frayed. You tried to play it off, “Oh, that's just me and some old friends in our Halloween costumes. We used to go all out, you know?” Ona laughed at the idea, but then noticed the date on the back of the photo. “But it says April on here, that’s not Halloween.” she pointed out, looking at you suspiciously.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to come up with another excuse. “Oh, right, that must have been some other dress-up party we went to. I can’t really remember.” you said, hoping she would buy it. Ona raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. You could feel the weight of the secret bearing down on you more and more with each thing that happened.

That night, as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, the fear and anxiety that had been brewing within you all day finally caught up. Your mind raced as you tossed and turned, and soon the nightmares began. In one particularly vivid dream, you found yourself playing in a huge match, the stadium packed to the rafters with cheering fans. You were playing well, confident and in control, until suddenly the crowd began to chant a name - a name that you hadn’t heard in years, a name that made your blood run cold. “Picky, Picky, Picky,” they chanted, and you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

As the chanting grew louder and more insistent, you tried to block it out, to focus on the game, but it was no use. You were Picky, the name you’d tried so hard to leave behind, the name that had haunted you for years. And now, in this nightmare, it was back, threatening to undo everything you’d worked so hard for.

You jolted awake, your heart racing and your body slick with sweat. For a moment, you lay there in the dark, trying to steady your breathing and make sense of what had just happened. “Are you okay?” Ona asked, clearly awakened by your midnight antics. “Yeah, just had a nightmare. Go back to sleep Ona.”

The next morning, as you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, you noticed Millie’s recent close friends story. You felt a knot form in your stomach as you saw a picture of her and Nia together, smiling at the camera. You knew that if Millie didn’t know your secret before, she definitely did now. You frantically searched for any clues in the photo, trying to see if there was anything that could give away your past. The fear of losing everything you had worked for began to consume you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that your world was about to come crashing down.

You quickly called Millie, hoping to get some answers about the previous night. When she answered, you could hear the sound of a bustling coffee shop in the background. Millie sounded chipper, but her cheeriness quickly evaporated when you brought up Nia. You explained that you had seen her in the Instagram story and asked what happened. Millie hesitated before finally admitting that she had met up with Nia last night. As you listened to Millie defend Nia, insisting that she wasn't a bad person, you felt your frustration growing. It was clear that Millie was taking Nia’s side, and you couldn't believe it. How could she not see what Nia was trying to do? You tried to explain your side of the story, but Millie wasn’t hearing it. “Well how would you feel if someone called you an embarrassment, Y/N?”

You felt your stomach twist with guilt as Millie’s words hung in the air. She was right, you shouldn’t have said those things to Nia. You knew that now. “I’m sorry, Millie,” you said quietly, feeling ashamed. Millie took note of your silence and sighed. “Look, let’s meet up and talk about it, okay? You don’t have to apologise to me, but you should probably make it right with Nia,” she said, her voice softening. You agreed to meet up, feeling grateful for Millie’s kindness and for the opportunity to set things right. As you hung up the phone, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. How were you going to face Nia and explain yourself?

That night, you met up with Nia and Millie at a bar to try and make amends. You felt nervous as you sat down with them, but you knew you needed to do this. You told her you were sorry for hurting her and acting the way you did. She seemed to take it well at first, but then she asked, “So have you told anyone about us?” “No, Nia, I haven’t.” You said quietly, which seemed to frustrate her. “Well, well, well, there it is. So nothing has changed, you are still just as embarrassed. Is your apology supposed to mean anything to me?”

Luckily, Millie stepped in and suggested some drinks to lighten the mood. You all took some shots and Millie brought up some lighter subjects as the alcohol was starting to kick in. Before you knew it, you were singing karaoke with Nia, belting out some tunes you hadn’t heard in years. It felt liberating and for a moment, you forgot about the tension between the two of you. The music brought back so many memories, making you realise your embarrassment had overshadowed all the good memories from your time in LA. You wrapped an arm around Nia as you yelled, “I really am sorry Nia, I will make it up to you, promise.”

The next morning you woke up with a raging hangover, but a small smile grew on your face as you recalled the events of last night. You strolled towards the living room to be met with Ona, who had clearly been waiting for you. “Where were you last night?” She asked coldly. “I was out,” you said, “do you know where the paracetamol is?” “Out? Where? Who with?” Ona quickly followed up, voice stil frigid. “Millie, and also Nia.” You mumbled. “Mia? I thought you weren't that close with her.”

You stumbled towards the kitchen, wincing at the pounding in your head. “Nia, not Mia. And it was just a night out with Millie, nothing more.” you say, searching through the medicine cabinet for paracetamol. Ona followed you, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Y/N, you’ve been acting strange lately. Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion. You swallowed the pills with a glass of water and turned to face her. “No, everything’s fine. I just needed a night out with friends.” Ona gave you a long, hard look, once again clearly not convinced.

“I can’t keep pretending I believe these lies you tell me. I think I might need some space, Y/N.” You felt a pit in your stomach. You knew she was right. Your recent behaviour had been mysterious, and you hadn’t been entirely truthful with her. You took a deep breath and tried to explain, “You’re right, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I promise I’ll tell you everything soon, I just need some time to figure things out, okay?” Ona looked at you, her eyes softening slightly. “You can’t keep pushing me away like this, Y/N. I need to know what’s going on.” You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “I know, and I will tell you, but I need a little more time to figure out how to say it.” Ona nodded, and you felt the weight of your recent actions settling in.

The inevitability of revealing the secret had finally caught up with you. You had kept it buried deep within yourself for far too long. As you recovered from your hangover, a plan began to form in your mind. You reached out to Millie, knowing that she likely knew everything at this point, and asked for her help in bringing the truth to light.

The next day, with the help of Millie and some staff members, you gathered the whole team in a conference room before training. Everyone sat down and as you stood in front of them, a big screen behind you, they all sent you confused glares, especially Ona, whom you told very little about your plan for this morning. Millie hushed everyone, and your nerves began to take hold. “Greetings, everyone,” you began, “for a long time I have kept my past a secret to all of you, but today that changes. What you’re about to witness might be shocking at first, but rest assured, that stuff is in the past, I am no longer involved in such practices, and I am not the person I was back then.”

You took a deep breath as you moved away from the screen, giving Millie a small nod, who then hit play. You sat down on the front row, not wanting to face any of your teammates reactions. A video started playing, showing a bunch of alternative looking teenagers in a car. “We are on our way to Vegaaas.” One of them said. You cringed as you waited for the realisation to dawn behind you. “OH MY GOD,” Ella shouted suddenly, “Y/N, is that you with the pink hair?” You buried your face in your hands as a song began playing in the background.

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You kept your face hidden in your hands as the video kept playing, showing you during the most embarrassing period of your life, singing and dancing with the members of the poppunk band you used to be a part of. The laughter and screaming of your teammates rang loud in your ears as you endured the three-minute video, each embarrassing detail pointed out feeling like an eternity. When the last chorus ended, which everyone had sang along too, Millie yanked you by the wrist, pulling you out of hiding and into the spotlight. Your heart pounded as you stood before the team, their eyes fixed on you, most of them still recovering from the laughter. “It’s time for some questions.” Millie declared, a sly grin spreading across her face.

“Alright, go on then, ask away.” You said, knowing an intense interrogation would be inevitable at this point, to which several hands shot up immediately. “You, pink shirt.” Millie said, pointing at Ella, pretending to be hosting a press conference. “Oh my god, where to start,” Ella began, “just- what was that?” You sighed. “When I was a teenager I lived in LA for two years. During that time I joined a band, this was them.” you answered. “What instrument did you play?” Alessia inquired. “Bass, next!” “Were you famous?” Leah asked, to which you chuckled. “We had one minor hit, but not really. They did have somewhat of a breakthrough after I left though.” Some people audibly gasped at that.

“Do you still talk to them?” Maya asked. “Not really. When I left I kind of dove into my football career, never looking back. Although recently I have been getting in touch with one of them again.” You answered. “Do you have any regrets?” Millie, momentarily losing her role as moderator, caught you off guard with her question. You pondered the question for a while before stating, “No. I don’t.” A small smile growing on your face.

As the interrogation about your past came to an end, the staff interrupted, signalling that it was time for training. The teasing followed you into the changing room where your teammates continued to poke fun at your previous life, singing the song and scouring the internet for embarrassing photos. Despite their laughter, you couldn’t help but notice the quietness of your girlfriend. She remained silent throughout the morning, refusing to participate in the banter, and you knew something was wrong. Trying to be discreet, you quietly approached her as you laced up your shoes, “Ona, can we talk after training?” She nodded, but the unease lingered in the air. Training couldn't end soon enough, as the jokes persisted, and Ona seemed to avoid you at all costs.

When training was finally over, you and Ona hastily left to your apartment. As you sat with Ona on the couch, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about the way you had been acting lately. You knew why she had been quiet all day. You had hurt her by making her think that the secret from your past was something far more sinister than it actually was.

“I’m sorry, Ona,” you began, turning towards her. “I should have told you about the band from the start, instead of acting all suspicious and making you think it was something terrible. I know I hurt you and I feel terrible about it.” Ona remained quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on her lap. Finally, she looked up at you and spoke in a soft voice. “I was just scared, you know? I thought you had done something really bad, something that would change the way I saw you. But now that I know the truth, I just feel silly.”

You took her hand in yours and squeezed it gently. “You have nothing to feel silly about, Ona. I understand why you were scared, and I should have been more open with you from the start. I promise to be more honest with you in the future.” you said genuinely. “You made me think you were secretly married, or something, or a murderer!” she chuckled, playfully smacking your leg with her hand. “Wait, you really thought that?” you gasped. “Well not really, but I just got confused and my mind went places!” she said, looking a bit embarrassed at her confession. “I’m really sorry Ona.” you said once more.

“So bass, huh?”, Ona said, changing the subject. “Can you still play?” “I do still have my old bass hidden away in the back of my closet, but I haven’t practiced in a long time. Though I guess playing an instrument should be like riding a bike right?”

It wasn’t. You opened the old hardcase to reveal your beige fender precision bass, covered in old stickers you had picked up whilst touring and attending concerts back in the US. “Wow, you were such a loser.” Ona teased. “See, this is why I didn’t want anyone to know!” you replied, sending her a pout. “I’m kidding, I love it. Now play something for me!”

After tuning your bass for what felt like minutes (it was so out of tune you were afraid a string might snap), you tested your muscle memory by attempting to play one of your old songs. You cringed at the sound of the first few notes and quickly stopped playing. Your fingers fumbled over the frets, struggling to find the right notes. The song that used to come so naturally to you now felt like a foreign language. It was like trying to reconnect with a version of yourself that no longer existed.

“Hey, keep going!” Ona encouraged as she noticed your defeat. “What, you didn’t think that was terrible?” you quipped, raising an eyebrow. She laughed, “Oh, your playing was definitely terrible, but the bass looks good on you.” she said, sending you a wink.

With Ona's encouragement, you kept playing for a bit longer, trying to remember the bass lines. Gradually, it started to come back to you, and the song began to sound more familiar. Ona watched you intently, her smile growing wider as you got better. “You know, I like getting to know about your past,” she said, still smiling at you. “Even if it's embarrassing to you.”

You felt a little pang of guilt wash over you again, but you were grateful for Ona's understanding. You decided to take the opportunity to show her more about your past, and pulled out some old photos from your teenage years. As you scrolled through them together, you told her about your experiences touring with the band, the crazy things you did on the road, and the friends you made along the way. Ona listened attentively, asking questions and laughing at your stories. It felt good to finally share this part of yourself with someone, and you were glad it was with her.

“So this Nia girl, are you guys good? Things seemed so intense with you two.” Ona inquired. “Yeah, I may have hurt her in my embarrassment.” You answered, looking down at your feet. “I know just what to do to make things right.” Ona said as she shot up to grab her phone.

That evening, you sat in a bar, taking a sip of your beer whilst nervously wiggling your feet. You couldn’t believe you had agreed to this, but your girlfriend had convinced you it was the right thing to do. “You didn’t tell me the whole team was coming.” you said, frowning at Ona. She grinned back at you. “Don’t be nervous, querida. You’ve played to bigger crowds before.” You couldn’t help but feel like this was some sort of payback for your recent behaviour, which you definitely deserved. “They’re here!” Ona exclaimed, making you turn around to find Millie and Nia walking into the bar, Nia’s eyes widening when she saw you.

You made your way to the small podium opposite the bar. You grabbed a microphone and signalled to the sound guy that you were ready. “Hello everyone,” you said into the microphone, taking a deep breath. “Could I have your attention please?” You grabbed your bass from behind the curtain, causing several gasps from your teammates and, of course, Nia. “I have an apology to make to an old friend of mine who’s here tonight. Nia, I'm truly sorry for the way I acted. If you can forgive me, please join in with me.”

As you began to play the bass line from one of your old songs, you could feel the weight of everyone’s attention on you. You were nervous at first, but as you played, you started to feel more confident. After a few bars, Nia hesitantly joined in, her voice blending perfectly with your playing. You shared a smile, both of you finally letting go of the tension that had been building between you. As the song progressed, you could see the your teammates tapping their feet and nodding their heads along to the beat. By the end of the song, the whole bar was cheering and clapping, and you felt a sense of pride and relief wash over you.

As the song came to an end, the bar erupted into applause. You looked out into the crowd and saw your friends, including Ona, with wide grins on their faces. But it was Nia who surprised you the most. She walked up to you and hugged you tightly, whispering in your ear, “I forgive you, Y/N.” “It’s Picky.” You smiled.

As you walked Nia towards the bar to order her a drink, you casually asked, “By the way, that photo was yours, wasn’t it?” Her face broke into a sly smile. “Photo? I have no idea what you are talking about.” she retorted. You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with her denial. “Really? So it was just some random stranger leaving that package on my doorstep?” you inquired, your tone laced with sarcasm. Nia’s grin widened. “I guess so. Perhaps they got a little mad after being called an embarrassment and were hoping to remind you of some positive memories.” she suggested. You playfully nudged her elbow. “Some insightful stranger they were.”

After your performance, the evening blossomed into an unforgettable night out with your team. The occasional teasing towards your past, fuelled by Nia’s humorous anecdotes, only added to the lively atmosphere. Everyone hit it off with Nia, and you were relieved that she decided to forgive you. The night was filled with music, and your teammates kept requesting your old songs to the DJ, who was gradually becoming visibly annoyed. It was heartwarming to witness everyone having such a great time, and it felt freeing to let your hair down and revel in the moment with your friends. As the night came to an end, you walked out of the bar with your arm around Ona, feeling grateful for the amazing people in your life.

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