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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Note

Reader and Steve end up exposed to something on a mission that cause them to body swap. It would be hot as hell if one of them was seeing Bucky too and he decides to have fun with their misfortune.

(okay so this is kind of a crack fic so im sorry in advance asgjakhsagdj this is the WEIRDEST SMUT I’VE EVER WRITTEN... very nsfw and a slight touch of dubcon beneath the cut.)

you’d only been in Steve’s body for a few hours when you began to understand how deprived this man was.

you hadn’t gotten his memories. you didn’t really understand how this had happened at all but you knew that for sure, because you distinctly recalled being you yesterday and now you were him. and he was fucking horny.

maybe it was you, a little bit, but this was definitely his body acting of its own accord more than it was your mind inside of it. it felt different in a guy’s body, for one. it felt so different to have need like this, so much more all-encompassing than the subtle tingling in your gut that you normally felt when you were turned on. damn, is this what it was always like for men? you weren’t sure how they ever managed to get any work done. maybe they don’t.

my cock is hard, you thought to yourself, trying to wrap your head around the concept. you tried not to look down at it as you leaned back in your chair-- his chair, actually-- but you could feel it, not just the arousal coursing through it but the head curving back and digging into your hip.

I can’t touch it, you decided, it would be invasive. he’s not here to consent to me touching his body. and you firmly believed that logic, and yet you felt your hand-- his hand-- reaching into the waistband of his uniform and pulling it out. you whimpered just to feel warmth on it, though the sound was foreign to your ears as you realized you had his voice.

you had never been good at handjobs, but it was like instinct was guiding you as you stroked the cock you found in your palm. his hands were sort of rough, something you normally liked but was not well-received in this body. but it was enough-- it was just enough to satisfy this desperation that burned in your chest. you could tell it had been so long since this cock had gotten attention from anything but this hand, you could feel how much he needed more but you, as his friend, understood why he didn’t get it. he always told you he was too busy for dating. frankly, if you got to this point, you wouldn’t really be worried about “dating” so much as “hooking up” but he was, understandably, not the type.

your head fell back as you bucked up into your hand, biting down on your lip-- and you’d always dreamed of tasting his lips, just not like this. “fuck,” you hissed, the sound of his voice mundane to his body but driving your mind wild inside his stupidly beautiful head. there was an urge to moan your own name, just to know how it would sound if he said it like this, but the idea was too weird for you go through with it.

then again, you were stuck in Steve’s body and jerking off so, ‘too weird’ was kind of a moot point.

you were jolted out of your rhythm when there was a knock at your-- his-- door.

“wh-who is it?” you stammered.

“it’s me!” you heard from the other side of the door. “or, well, it’s you!”

“shit,” you mumbled as you rushed to redress, running to the door-- you were so much faster in this body, unsurprisingly. you weren’t really psychologically prepared to open the door and see yourself there. you weren’t ready to be pierced by your own gaze, your own arms crossed in confusion.

“do you always get wet when you look at me?” Steve asked you suddenly. “or is this just me... knowing it’s you?”

you swallowed, feeling an Adam’s apple bob in your neck-- what an odd sensation.

“does my voice always sound like that?” you asked when you heard his words from your mouth.

“we need to fix this before Bucky finds me again,” he demanded, “I barely managed to toss him off me.”

“... so I guess you found out about us too?” you winced, your secret fuckbuddies relationship now out in the open.

“more than I ever wanted to know,” he frowned. his expression shifted as he looked up at you again. “what were you doing?”

“what?” you asked, and you heard your own breathlessness. “I wasn’t doing anything. you always breathe like this. don’t you have asthma?”

“I used to have asthma,” he corrected.

“yes, and now you have a vagina-- my vagina!-- so maybe we should focus on that and not you giving me this random third degree here?”

“whatever,” he scoffed, brushing past you to step into the room as you shut the door.

“you didn’t... look, did you?” you asked nervously.

“uh, no,” he answered quickly, “did you?”

“I made a specific point not to,” you announced proudly.

“oh...” he mumbled, “good...”

“sooooo...” you changed the subject awkwardly, “any plans on how to fix this?”

“I was thinking we’ll start by trying everything we can think of, and work from there,” he offered.

“good plan,” you decided. “maybe.... maybe, uh... we have to... go... somewhere? or do something?”

“go somewhere and do something?” steve repeated incredulously. “you’re a real genius.”

“don’t make that face at me, you’re gonna give me frown lines,” you sneered. “I can’t help it, okay? I can’t think! I’m distracted!”

“by what?”

“by... by stuff!” you defended, scratching the back of your neck-- it was your nervous habit, rendered entirely different by his short hair.

steve sighed, your chest rising and falling with his breath. “it’s hard, isn’t it?”

“well, yeah, switching bodies is hard--”

“no. it’s hard... isn’t it?”

your eyes went a little wide. “ohhh. uh, yeah, it is.”

“god, I’m sorry,” he groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “it does that a lot.”

“how do you do anything?” you squawked. “it’s like all I can think about is... is how bad I just need to be in something, something... warm!”

“welcome to my world,” he shrugged.

“you have to let me...” you began, but stopped yourself. “no, no, we-- no.”

“what is it?” he asked.

“you have to let me fuck you. me. you have to let... you fuck me...?”

“won’t that be, you know... scarring?”

you nodded. “but I’m not sure we have a choice, please just-- just let me-- I know I want it. I mean, I know my body wants it. didn’t you say I’m wet? I’m probably drenched by now, huh?”

he stammered a bit before answering. “um... I think so...”

“it feels warm, right? warm and sensitive and like you need to be filled with something?”

“...kinda...” he replied hesitantly.

“please,” you groaned, “don’t tell me I’m the only one that’s ever thought about it.”

“no,” he answered, quicker than ever, “no, you aren’t. you’re... you’re sure it’s okay?”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” you finally admitted, “not like this, but I’ll take what I can get--”

“fuck it,” he mumbled before pulling you into a heated kiss, and with your eyes closed you couldn’t really tell the difference of who was who anymore, you just knew that it was him touching you and you didn’t really care that his hands were smaller and that his lips were softer.

you undressed each other at lightning speed, and there was a hand on your cock-- clearly he was pulling from his own experience with his own cock, because wow, he knew exactly how to touch it to make you gasp and whimper.

“you can look,” he offered to you when he pulled back from the kiss, “I know I did.”

“did you like what you saw?” you asked hesitantly.

“better than I ever imagined,” he grinned. “I even put a finger inside you. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I’m gonna fit.”

“neither am I,” you sighed as you looked down at the thick member your own slender hand was wrapped around. “fuck, steve... it’ll probably hurt you.”

“let’s just hope we can fix this tonight and you get to be sore tomorrow, not me,” he chuckled a little.

“k-keep stroking it, please,” you sighed, “I’m already-- I think I’m close. I can’t really tell...”

“you should be able to feel it here,” he explained as he slipped his touch lower to cup your balls--

“oh,” you breathed, “this is... new...”

“oh please, it’s nothing compared to a clit,” he laughed, “that thing is sensitive.”

you realized that steve was taking much better advantage of this than you were-- while you had his body at your disposal, you needed to test out the superhuman strength. it took you almost nothing to lift your own weight onto the desk, grinning as you saw him gasp at the show of strength.

“been a while since somebody lifted you?” you asked him with a smirk. he didn’t reply, just spread his-- your-- legs and let you grind against him, just the warmth of a body enough for now even if you weren’t inside of it. you kissed him again as you pulled him closer, thrusting to let that poor, sensitive cock slide over the delicate skin beneath you.

“well, well, well,” a voice echoed from the doorway. you sat up and spun around to find Bucky, leaning around the wall with crossed arms and a satisfied smirk. “it was just a matter of time before you two got together-- we all knew it. no wonder you ran off so fast, babygirl... you had another engagement to attend to.”

“Buck, hold on--” Steve began.

“Bucky, this is not what it looks like,” you interrupted.

“then what is it?” Bucky asked with faux innocence.

you and Steve looked at each other, neither of you sure exactly how to answer that. “it’s complicated,” you answered in unison.

“don’t worry about me, I’m not jealous,” he explained. “we never said we were exclusive, no hard feelings,” he addressed Steve-- but he was talking to you. well, he was trying to talk to you, but he didn’t know he was looking at Steve. well, he was looking at you, but just your body-- oh fuck it, even you couldn’t make sense of it. “but Steve?” he chuckled. “he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. he can’t make you feel as good as I can, I know it.”

he was like a blur as he pounced on you-- your body, at least, but it was Steve that was arching his back and moaning as Bucky licked and sucked at your neck, slipped his metal hand into your shorts and apparently found your most sensitive spots instantly. Steve was already bucking up into his touch, your own moans echoing over the walls even if you weren’t the one making them.

“B-Buck, wait,” Steve protested, but he was too weak now to push him off, and too far gone into the pleasure to want to.

“feels good, hm?” Bucky purred, throwing a stray glance at you. “are you jealous?” he asked you tauntingly.

“yes,” you admitted.

“jealous cause you know how good it feels when I make you come like this?” he pressed, and you froze.

“do... do I?” you asked Steve anxiously.

“don’t look at him, look at me,” Bucky corrected firmly. him? you wondered, but before you could ask, he answered your question, turning to address Steve pinned under him. “I know it’s you, Steve.”

“what?!” you both gaped.

“she would never call me ‘pal’ like you did earlier,” Buck explained, “and she would never say no to me like you also did earlier.”

“hey!” you protested.

“and you,” he laughed, “I’d know that deer-in-the-headlights look anywhere, even on a different face.”

as embarrassing as this whole situation was, it was sort of nice to have someone else acknowledge it. it made you feel less crazy.

“I can’t keep track of this conversation while there are fingers inside of me,” Steve shivered.

“it’s weird, isn’t it?” you smiled at him. “good weird.”

“very good, very weird,” he agreed, breathing heavier as Bucky’s arm flexed from pumping his hand back and forth.

“she usually comes in just a few minutes from this,” Bucky explained to Steve, making you feel oddly exposed-- and not just because you knew they could both see the achingly-hard cock threatening to burst from the hastily-zipped pants. “I know it’s you in there, but it’s still her body... so it should still be the same, right?”

“I-I’m close,” Steve replied, making Bucky laugh.

“oh, you’re even faster, damn. go ahead and come for me-- don’t you wanna hear how she sounds when she comes?”

“yes.”

“don’t you wanna see that pussy cream all over my fingers?”

“yes.”

“then beg me not to stop,” Bucky demanded, and instinct took over.

“please don’t stop,” you found yourself saying before Steve could answer, making them both turn to you.

“I’ve got you so well-trained,” Bucky grinned before looking back down at Steve beneath him. “just like that, doll,” he repeated his instruction.

“don’t call me ‘doll,’” Steve barely managed to protest between loud moans.

“okay,” Bucky relented, “beg for me just like that, Stevie.”

“please!” Steve shouted instantly. “please... please don’t stop.”

“one more time?”

“damn it, Buck, don’t stop!” he sobbed, and you wondered if you always looked like that when you came or if it was Steve’s expression painted on your own features. Bucky, as always, wasn’t content with just one, and Steve’s eyes shot wide open as he realized that this could just keep going, over and over.

“you’re-- you’re really not gonna stop,” Steve gasped.

“he’s mean like that,” you explained with a little smirk. you were looking forward to getting back in your own body just for the multiple orgasms alone.

“how’s it feel, Stevie?” Bucky asked proudly.

“s-so good,” he answered dutifully, “so good it almost hurts. fuck it hurts... but I want more, I wanna come again.”

“mm, so greedy,” Bucky praised. “just one more, then we need to give our lonely friend some love... I bet she’s ready to make a mess in your pants just from watching me finger you--” he turned to you suddenly-- “isn’t that right?”

“yes,” you answered quickly. “p-please, Bucky, I feel so... I need you.”

“I know, babygirl, it won’t be much longer,” he promised, “I can feel your cunt clenching on me already-- come on over here and feel for yourself.”

you hesitantly stepped closer, hissing a little as Bucky’s free hand grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand closer. “see? just put your finger in beside mine, I want you to know how tight you get when I make you come.”

you took a shaky breath but did as he asked, hearing Steve’s gasp as you inserted his thick finger into your slickened channel. it definitely felt different than when you put your own fingers in yourself-- for him and for you. it was different to feel your pussy around your finger when you couldn’t feel the finger in your pussy... if that made any sense.

“three’s too many,” Steve complained.

“and yet, here we are,” Bucky winked.

“I can’t,” Steve clarified, “it’s too big.”

“aw, she always says that but then she changes her mind... you will too,” Bucky decided. “now just move like this,” he explained to you as you started to move with him, feeling the way your body responded instantly. it built up so fast as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s pace, watching Steve cry out at the same time as your walls tightened around the assortment of fingers-- Steve and Bucky’s, flesh and metal-- inside you.

“you’re close,” Bucky informed both of you. “feel the way that pretty pussy is getting so wet, holding on so tight?”

“y-yes,” you shivered, trying your best to ignore the pangs of need coursing through the cock you still struggled to acknowledge as your own.

“go ahead and come, Stevie,” Bucky encouraged, and that was all it took; Steve cried out as your whole body spasmed-- not just your body, but the body you were in. You were coming, much to your dismay, without even being touched, ropes of hot come creating a wet patch on Steve’s uniform, and you couldn’t bit back the groans of pleasure as your gut flexed with each wave of the orgasm.

“oh, now look at that,” Bucky purred as he looked back and forth between Steve and yourself. “you two both made a mess.”

“aw damn it, my uniform!” Steve protested as he looked at you.

“I think you need to help our girl clean up that mess,” Bucky cooed as Steve shot him a look. “it’s been too long since you got your dick sucked... and I’ve always felt it’s your responsibility to solve your own problems.”

“I... I don’t know how,” Steve protested.

“I’ll show you,” Bucky promised as he guided Steve to kneel in front of you, helping you push down your trousers. “just lick up some of that come first, nice and slow.”

you gasped the second you felt a warm tongue against your skin, your hands reaching out and finding a comfortable place to grip on your own hair-- and Steve moaned when you pulled on it.

“you like the taste of your own come, Stevie?” Bucky purred. “now put it in your mouth-- just the head, you might not be able to fit much else. suck on it like a popsicle.”

you bit back a moan that wouldn’t been embarrassingly loud when you felt a warm, slick mouth wrap around where you were now much too sensitive.

“look down, babygirl,” Bucky whispered to you.

“I-- I can’t,” you denied, “I can’t look.”

“but you look so pretty when you suck cock, doll, haven’t I told you a million times?”

you sighed but obeyed, opening your eyes and looking down at Steve looking up at you, but with your eyes, and with your lips stretch around his thick shaft. “I... I do look pretty,” you agreed nervously.

“did you always wonder what Steve looks like when he’s getting his cock sucked?” Bucky asked you as he knelt down beside your body where Steve was using it for the moment. “The answer is... very confused.”

“that might be unique to this situation,” Steve explained as he pulled away from you.

“keep sucking, whore, I didn’t say you could stop.”

that language made you both moan softly, but Steve obeyed.

“oh, we are going to have so much fun,” Bucky chuckled excitedly, and you already knew that you were in for a very long night.

#stucky x reader #i have no idea how to tag this #Anonymous

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yoshkeii · 3 years

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"𝚂𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎."

࿐ character(s): Kuroo Tetsurou, Daichi Sawamura, Suna Rintarou

࿐ genre: sfw, soft/fluff

࿐ type: headcanons (hcs)

࿐ requested by: N/A

⌦ male!reader (he/him)

⌦ ‘some tiny and cute things i think the boys do that i find very intimate’n’sweet.’

A/N: more self-indulgent things bc i can <3.

𝙺𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘:

❀ i can find this man to be very affectionate and even clingy when it comes to you, even if you are out in public, but he’s not too clingy in public but definitely behind walls and in a comfortable space.

❀ he loves, loves to kiss, no matter if its receiving or giving- the kisses can last a quick second or a long moment, there really is no inbetween.

❀ quick kisses often consist of him softly kissing your forehead, cheek, all-over your face, lips, and even hands.

❀ whenever you both cuddle and are comfortable, he sometimes will grab your hands and kiss your palm, even knuckles as his amber eyes look up at you from his position. a sly but dorky smile creeping on his face.

❀ removing your hands from his grasp you hide your face with your hands, completely flustered and caught off guard. the chuckle of Tetsurou's laugh leaving his lips before he peppers your hands with kisses, eventually removing your hands and peppering your face. earning soft giggles and laughs between you both.

❀ after long, exhausting days of work he loves to come home to you. of course he does, he looks forward to the cuddles and nice ‘welcome home’ greeting him at the door as you softly peck his cheek. his face flushing up lightly.

❀ but besides the most soft quick kisses, the long passionate ones are far different.

❀ tiring days are when he’s most desperate, yearning affection from his boyfriend who’s already at home. as soon as his eyes sees you once he enters the shared home, he rushes over towards your figure. always hugging from behind before making you face him, smashing his lips on yours.

❀ it was affectionate and rushed before it gradually eased down into softer movements, as it does you can feel the soft smile he makes during the kiss. he really missed you.

❀ im sorry- that these are just him kissing you- but he would never slip up the chance to kiss your handsome, beautiful, cute face. istg. he wont.

❀ this man will chase after your lips once you pull away too-

❀ anyways- its not just him kissing you all the time,, mostly. but he will hug you from behind. quite often! its a common thing in public actually...

❀ i kinda see him as the type to watch you from the doorway as you obliviously do something. not noticing the bed-head male in your peripheral vision.

❀ this often opens a chance for him to sneak a hug from behind and/or a kiss on your head. easily making you startled and maybe- screaming- if possible.

❀ hearing his dumbass laugh as his grip tightened around your torso, staying there watching you slowly continue your work. knowing you’re- maybe- a little angry at him from the scare, but he definitely know you’ll warm up quickly. you always do.

𝙳𝚊𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚒:

❀ i really need to write more this man, bc oh i so so so adore his ass so much. he gives off such a comfy and safe vibe to me i’d give my life to him.

❀ I- aNYwAYS-

❀ he would hug you a lot. so much. and it feels for secured n safe, its a haven in between his arms. even comfortable too from the warmth he radiates, cuddles with him doesn’t often need too much blankets knowing Sawamura can be a heater by himself.

❀ man just gives the biggest, warmest hugs.

❀ he doesn’t mind hugging you, holding a hand, or linking arms to make you feel his warmth when cold. he actually likes it but won’t bluntly say it unless he wants to tease you.

❀ and oh yeah, he keeps the things like those to himself until he uses it as a teasing weapon. smiling to himself as he stares at your flustered expression that stared back at him, your eyes averting and face quickly hidden in embarrassment.

❀ kisses aren’t too common unlike Tetsurou, but he will do them behind walls. just soft pecks on your face whenever he feels affection and giddy or really whenever he misses you-

❀ cuddles with him are sometimes giggly! just relaxing against each other as you both talk about silly things and hectic things that happened in your day or past, laughing at each others stories.

❀ hearing one another’s hearty genuine laughs never fails to awestruck the other in the heart, but it easily plays off from the unwavering laughter you both have. only to cuddle into each others body once more.

❀ seeing him win any games with his team, and he sees your figure rushing off towards him. Sawamura will not hesitate to lift you up as he hugs you, feeling your feet above the flat surface you slightly panic but peering down at your boyfriend’s face instantly removes the anxious feeling at the genuine happy expression he has.

❀ sometimes he’ll twirl you around in his arms lightly before settling you back down with a nervous laugh, embarrassed he just- did that- but he brushes it off really quickly unless his teammates nag him about it.

❀ honestly the man to encourage his s/o whenever they are down, using words or even reassuring actions somehow boosts the mood (or at least eases the tension down.)

𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚊:

❀ kinda- kinda see him as a cuddle bug. i genuinely do.

❀ he would never refuse a cuddle-session that includes you in it,, and will d r o p everything he’s doing just to cuddle with you, seriously. he’ll use it as a excuse to avoid doing work sometimes- but you’ll scold him about it later.

❀ big spoon him and he’ll love it, every moment of it. he feels nice and comfy in this position often.

❀ whenever cuddling he will give you little pats and messes with your hair if you let him, and the occasion soft pecks on your face. usually your cheek, nose, or forehead.

❀ sometimes will squish your face with his hands, he often doesn’t do so because of how calloused and rough his hands can be because of practice and being a middleblocker. so he’s conscious about it with you, but the reassurance you give relieves him.

❀ during cuddle sessions, Rintarou would definitely show you things on his phone he’d think you like. knowing your interests rather well from listening and remembering conversations you’ve had.

❀ speaking of him remembering things, he keeps mental notes on passionate subjects or things you like. and sometimes will surprise you about it with an accumulated gift or item.

❀ Rintarou is really supportive of whatever you are passionate about or into, will literally slander who discourages or fucks with you. and he won’t hesistate, you are his king, prince, emperor- his everything. he’s not gonna hold back on that poor person who makes you feel bad.

❀ whenever he sees you cry, he’s the type to instinctively wipe away the tears. his thumb brushing your cheek and below your eyes as the tears flow, watching you let it out before embracing you into a hug. muttering soft reassurances and patting your back before you ease down.

❀ and thats when he cues his dumb jokes and sayings to you, using it to hear that soft laugh erupting from your chest.

❀ during games his eyes would drift towards the crowd just to find you. Kita and/or ‘Tsumu would bark at him about it, wanting to get his attention during the game-

❀ he’d share videos everytime the miya twins do stupid shit and have crazy antics, whether that’s sending you a video or a photo with a dumbass caption. hoping to make you laugh from it on the other screen.

#at-dusk;- 🌆#folder 📁;- 𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚢𝚞𝚞 #kuroo tetsuro x male reader #daichi sawamura x male reader #suna rintarou x male reader #kuroo x male reader #daichi x male reader #suna x male reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #suna rintarou x reader #kuroo hcs #daichi hcs #suna hcs #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #x male reader #x reader

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scarletwidowaf · 3 years

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broadway, baby. (part 1)

Florence pugh x female Reader

Summery: reader is a singing waitress in a new York restaurant (like in glee) where many famous people go to, and one night the little women cast are are there and R is their waitress.

Warnings: there's some cursing and harassment. Its not revolve around it but its there.

A\N: im soft for florence pugh and this is a complete shit.

masterlist

Credits: Glee Gif Credit • Florence Gifs Credit

“I'm just a Broadway Baby, walking off my tired feet, Pounding Forty Second Street to be in a show. Broadway Baby, learning how to sing and dance, waiting for that one big chance to be in a show.” - Cast of follies

Life can be hard and some days can be rough, especially in your line of work where people competed for the spotlight on a daily basis. but that's life and that’s the road you chose to walk through. And it's alright, after all, what's life without a spark? A movie without a breaking point? or a shift at Clayton's without drama?

This was one of these days, the kind of days who kept you on an edge as your body and mind both ached for a break.

'Just roll with it. just a few hours for your day off.' You silently said to yourself.

Being a young artist in New York was a challenge you’ve taken on yourself, luckily for you working at "Clayton's" was a good way to start a career. most people who started working there were young talented artist who were determined to make an impression over the industry. The place was always packed with many famous people, from actors to singers and producers. So, in many ways, working in "Clayton's" could be a ticket to Broadway or the music industry. And that was the reason you moved there in the first place.

You tried the traditional way, but after months of trying to get into college and fix your past mistakes, like your high school career, you decided that this path wasn’t for you. no matter what you did or how hard you tried your ADHD still managed to kick your ass. So, that’s how you ended up as a singing waitress in NY. You liked your job, truly. You liked singing and dancing and meeting cool people along the way, but sometimes it was just too much.

"You look like shit" Aaron said from his spot at the bar.

Aaron was a sweet guy and probably the only straight person in your group of friends. He was charming and talented and most importantly; he was the first friend you got in NY.

Aaron pulled his long brown hair into a bun as he chuckled at you. You huffed in frustration in return.

"Thanks" you muttered as he passes you a mug with coffee, hoping to help you get a grip before the restaurant opens.

"You need to rest" he said. "properly"

"that’s overrated" you joked and took a sip.

You felt an hand on your shoulder and you turned around to meet your friend's stern gaze. "You, okay?" she asked

"Always" you answered Mackenzie's question and she raised her eyebrow, knowing full well you were lying.

"we should sing as a warm up!" David, another one of your coworkers and Aaron's twin brother said.

"Let's not" Aaron said as he rolled his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm.

You laughed quietly as the two started bickering. Mack and you glanced at each other knowingly. Both of you already know who will win in the stupid argument.

15 minutes later, after a group warm up and Aaron's dramatic sighs 'Clayton's' was open for business.

It was a nice evening, not too full, not too loud. And most importantly, not too many known faces.

Of course, you liked to have famous people on your shifts, and it could obviously be a game changer for you but it can get intense at times and you want in the mood. Seriously, how can you be the only one who found singing "defying gravity' in font of Idina Menzel as a very stressful experience?? You were terrified by the idea you'll fuck up in front of the original singer- and make a total fool out of yourself.

When 10 pm rolled around, every opinion you had about the evening flew out the window. at this point, the restaurant was full with costumers and some known faces as well, and you found yourself holding every inch of you together as you approach the table who was occupied by the one and only Meryl Streep, and some fellow little women cast members.

*rule number 1 of working at Clayton's: don't make costumers feel uncomfortable. Don't annoy the costumers, don't ask for autographs if they're famous and generally treat them as normal and respectfully as you can. *

"Hello, my name is Y/N and ill be your waitress for tonight" you introduced yourself with a small smile. The women smiled at you brightly.

"How does it work" Meryl held the tablet with a puzzled expression. "Am I that old?" She joked

"Barley" One of the other women, Emma fucking Watson, said.

"I know it looks complicated-" you told them as you took the tablet from Meryl's hand."-But it's pretty simple, actually, I promise. As you can see the top part of the tablet is divided into two sections: The right one who says 'ask for a waiter'- which means that your waiter- which in this case, me, is busy- probably performing at the moment, and you can ask for a different waiter." You said with an ease, knowing the explanation by heart.

"The left section says 'ask for my waiter' which is a pretty simple one to understand... I guess- if you'll need me for whatever reason, you can press it and it'll page me. Feel free to use it." You said with a smile as you scanned their faces, making sure they understand the first part.

"And the bottom section?" Saoirse asked.

"The bottom section is the 'refill' sections. It will get into validation only after ill place your order in my own tablet and send to the kitchen." You explained as you gestured to your own tablet. "It's pretty useful, the point of it is that you can ask for a refill without having to social with me. Its awesome"

You noticed one of them, Florence pugh, scanning the tablet with a small smile- as she listened to your explanation. She was absolutely a sight for sore eyes, that's for sure.

"Thats pretty cool" she said and you nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I got really excited over it when I started working here" you admitted awkwardly "most importantly- When a section isn't relevant its will be grey instead of in color so you won't get confused. Like, for example - if You haven't ordered anything yet you can't get a refill, for the obvious reason. or if I'm not performing you can't ask for another waiter... which means you're stuck with me for the time being" you finished with a small chuckle.

"I don't think any of us mind that" Florence smiled and the others agreed. The blonde smiled at you again and you blushed slightly. "You're singing, right?" she asked out of the blue, just when you were about to leave and let them look through their menus.

"Yeah, i do. In a few minutes, actually"

"Thats cool! Good luck" she smiled and you wondered if Emma, who set the closest to you, could hear how fast your heart's beating.

"Thank you" you said with a smile and turned around to the stage.

__________________

"you paged? I'm guessing you guys ready to order then" You said as you approached their table after your performance.

"YOU WERE SO GODD!" Florence said excitedly.

"Thank you" you blushed slightly.

What. The. Fuck. Y/N?! You scolded yourself.

The others joined into the conversation with their own compliments and you thought you'd die when Meryl Streep, the legend herself, complimented you.

After another few moments the conversation calmed downed and moved to the next, and most important topic: the food. You tried your best to not blush under Florence's soft gaze and keep your focus on the other members of her table as they consulted you about the dishes, but damn, that was hard. luckily for you it didn’t take long and a few minutes later, their order was sent to the kitchen.

The next hour and a half weren't much different. you sang and placed orders, you smiled to costumers and even pretend to laugh at some old man's joke. And maybe (just maybe) you glanced over to Florence every now and then.

The thing about Clayton's is that apart for the famous people who visit there frequently, it also contains many of the rich and the snobs of New York, so you weren't surprised when you got paged from a table who was occupied by two guys with fancy clothes and their parents credit card.

"Hey" one of them said to you as you approached them.

"hey, welcome to Clayton's! You're David's table, right?" You said and pointed at your friend who started his own performance.

"Yeah, the fag one" the other guy said and your smile fell.

Take a deep breath, Y/N. It's not worth it.

"I see you guys already ordered a few minutes ago" you said as you checked your tablet.

"Yeah" the asshole confirmed.

"Okay, in that case, how can I help you?" You asked politely as you could.

"we would like to get the check." The first guy said politely as he pulled out a few bills from his wallet. "Keep the change" he said as you took it and made sure it was enough.

"Thank you" you smiled politely and made a mental note to give David his well-earned tip.

"my brother want to know if you're single" the asshole said and the nicer guy looked at his with his eyes wide.

Shit.

"I'm sorry, I'm in a relationship" you lied after a moment, hoping the lie will spare both his feeling and any more questions in the subject.

The guy nodded in understanding but on the other hand, the other guy didn’t seem to get the massage.

"I'm sure he won't mind sharing" the asshole said and you felt sorry for the poor guy for being related to this ass.

"What the fuck Chad" the nice guy said as chad smirked at you.

"yeah... that’s not going to happen." You glared at him "have a great weekend tho" you gritted out and turned around to leave.

you were taken by surprise when you felt chad's hand on your ass. Again, what the fuck?!

"What the fuck is wrong with you' asshole" you gritted out and moved away from him.

Don't make a scene. He's not worth it.

"C'mon-" he started to say as he got up. You moved away, knowing you were cornered since the place was full, the lights were deemed and the music was loud.

"Don't touch me" you said and moved away; you're back hitting an empty table who stood nearly.

"Hey what's going on here?" You heard and turned to catch Florence walking to you.

If a look could kill chad would’ve been dead. that’s for sure. It's like the sweet and excited Florence had left and a different, intimidating (and hot) version of her took her space and so help you god, you were glad she was on your side.

"Nothing! we were just leaving, really" Frankie said.

"None of your business" brad said and Florence raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow, daring him to cross her.

"I see" she said "well, I'm sure y/n won't mind my intruding"

'Thank god for Florence Pugh.' You thought.

Before chad could press the subject any further David, who just finished his performance, got there. You were sure he noticed that something was happening.

"what's going on here?" he asked after he scanned the situation quickly.

"nothing as I said to your friend, we were just leaving" Frankie said again.

he didn’t want to draw any negative attention, just like you, and thankfully for the both of you, not many people noticed the situation.

This time chad didn't answer, he just glared at Florence and you while his brother pulled him away from the place.

"so, are you going to tell me what happened?" David asked Florence and you after the two left.

Florence looked at you, waiting for you to answer him.

"Nothing" you lied. "it's okay David, you can go" you promised your friend. David looked at you with his 'I done believe you' expression, but he didn't press it any further. He just nodded before he turned around and left.

Rule number 2: do not make a scene under no circumstances. At Clayton's, everything you do while you're on the clock is practically showcased. You slip? you fall? you sing out of tune? Its under a spotlight, everyone can see that and everyone will have something to say about it. Thats the thing about this place. most people who started there and moved on to bigger things as Broadway or Hollywood were practically trained to keep their best poker face, act on the demand or pretend that everything is okay when it was clearly not.

"You should go back to your table" you said to Florence

she looked at you with an unreadable expression before she went back to her table. You didn't have much time to read into it since a few minutes later you found yourself at her table, printing their check and having a small friendly conversation with the women. You smiled at them as they left before you turned your tablet off and went to cover for Aaron at the bar.

"I thought you guys left" You said with a smile when the blonde approached you a few minutes later.

"Why did you lie?" Florence asked with the same unreadable expression from earlier.

Okay. No smiling then.

"I didn’t" you pulled out two shot glasses and filled them with tequila. The blonde gave you a 'are you kidding me' kind of look and you couldn't help but to chuckle. "I didn't see a reason to make a scene over nothing" you explained and downed one of the shots.

"It wasn't nothing Y/N" she said before taking the other glass.

"its fine. I'm fine. He didn’t do anything " you said as she downed her shot.

"Yeah, because I was there" she argued.

"I can handle guys like him. Seriously, at this point it might as well be a part of my job"

"you're not helping yourself"

"I liked you better smiling" you chuckled as she glared at you.

"I'm sure you did"

"shut up"

"How's your back?" She asked/

The blonde definitely didn't seem convinced about the chad situation but you were just grateful for the change of subject.

"It will be alright"

"Good"

"I appreciate your worry, truly. But I'm fine and I really don't want to hold you back here over it" you said

"Who said I was worried" she smirked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh, you don't?" You played along

"Nope"

"Then why are you still here? Its almost 12 am, don't you have something better to do" you teased her

"no. Do you?" She turned the question and you laughed.

"I guess not - considering the fact I work here and I'm still on clock"

"Oh, please we both know this place is about to close" she argued your logic

"True" you admitted

"So, if you have nothing better to do, and you don't, would you like to go out with me? You kinda owe me after I saved your ass earlier"

"Uh, and here I thought you did that as an act of kindness" you joked. A small smile playing on your lips.

"Ew no" she said and You laughed. "Well?" Florence pressed with a cheeky smile.

"Yeah, why not. It's not like I have something better to do"

"Just what I wanted to hear" she joked.

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pigh x female reader #florence pugh x fem!reader

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tommysparker · 3 years

Text

Never Forget You [Chapter 4]

A/N: hey y’all. just wanna say sorry for the posting schedule change. life is about to get hella hectic with school and the move sooo yeah. every second Saturday I will be posting! it’ll defiantly give me a chance to write more as well so im not rushing out chapters. anyways ive rambled long enough, enjoy :)

Warnings: angst. theres fluff too but its fluffy angst?? im not sorry hehe. long italic paragraphs = flashbacks.

From an outside perspective, one would assume the four of them were deep in thought, perhaps even communicating telepathically via the Force. They would only be half correct, as all of the Jedi were indeed thinking, but none of their trains of thought overlapped.

Anakin and Ahoska were in the pilot seats, glancing at each other every other minute or so. They could feel the tension build thicker with every passing planet. The only sound filling the room was the faint running of the engine that kept the ship moving.

You and Obi-Wan sat across from each other, neither one daring to make eye contact. Apparently, he was quite serious about the “not speaking from now on” agreement. It’s for the best, you kept telling yourself. However, the awkward silence that filled the ship made it harder to believe that.

Out of all the things that could happen to you at the moment, this was by far the worst.

On Gyfil, you had grown quite used to the sound of silence. In fact, over time you began to prefer it as opposed to the buzz of the towns. However, this was a different type of silence, one that had you bouncing your knee in anticipation for Anakin to announce you finally landed.

Master Yoda had called you all for a mission briefing. There was a supposed Separatist group meeting on Ostor, given the intel you received from a client on your previous mission. The four of you were sent to listen in on it.

“Young Skywalker and Padawan Tano, back up you will be. Great risks on Ostor, there are. Careful, you must be.” He turned to Obi-Wan and You. “Master Y/l/n, guide them you must do. In charge of the mission, I am putting you.”

A sense of pride filled your body but you quickly humbled yourself. “Thank you Master.”

Master Yoda smiled and turned to Obi-Wan. “Infiltrate the meeting, you and Master Y/l/n will. Stay together, you must.”

Obi-Wan would have laughed at the irony. Mentally he still is. Stay together, you must. After the last conversation between the two of you, he had doubts about how that plan would go. However, for the sake of the mission he was willing to lift the deal made.

You stood quietly, not being able to handle the loud silence any longer. “I’ll be in my quarters until we land,” you announced, making a point not to look at Obi-Wan and keep all attention to Anakin and Ahsoka.

You left without sparing a glance back.

He waited until you were out of view to let out a long sigh, running a hand over his beard and hunching forward.

Anakin was the first to speak. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure.” His shoulders shook as he made a disgusted sound. “Glad it’s finally over.”

“Just focus on getting us there in one piece, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, immediately followed by, “apologizes, I didn’t mean to sound so...aggressive.”

“So much for being able to hide stress, huh?”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things are harder to deal with than others.”

“Is Master Y/l/n ‘some things’?” Ahoska asked innocently.

Obi-Wan pondered for a minute, deciding the best way to answer. “Master Y/l/n is...many things.”

“Like what?”

Gorgeous. Strong. Kind. Perfect in every way. “They are highly skilled, almost as well as I am, if not better. A fine Jedi and a valuable member to the Order.” He stopped there before he’d say something he’d come to regret. Best to keep professional thoughts.

“I still don’t understand why the Council sent them away like that. Surely there were other Jedi that could have completed the mission,” Anakin commented. He knew his former Master wasn’t satisfied with the answer they were all given but would never admit it. He had to push him to find the truth.

“Whatever reasons Master Yoda and Master Windu had for picking Y/n are between them. You must stop questioning the Council’s intentions, Anakin. It will land you in very big trouble one day.” Obi-Wan says as if he hasn’t second guessed the Order as a whole before. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. The less you question things, the easier life is.

“That’s why I keep you around, old man,” Anakin said in a teasing manner. Hearing Obi-Wan let out a light chuckle made him feel a bit better as they settled into silence once more, this time more comfortable and light-hearted.

A bit more time had passed before Ahsoka spoke up. “Why don’t you ask Master Y/l/n what really happened?”

Obi-Wan sighed. He should have known better than to believe she would drop the topic. Like Master, like Padawan. “It’s none of my business. Frankly, it’s none of ours so I suggest we leave the subject alone.”

His answer, apparently, wasn’t good enough. “I’m gonna go ask them.” Ahsoka stands up to leave but is stopped mid-movement by Obi-Wan’s protests.

“No!” He looked at Ahsoka’s slightly stunned face, and chose to ignore Anakin’s smug look. “Fine, I’ll ask them. But only once, and if they don’t want to indulge me then that is the end of it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

Meanwhile, you sat alone on the bed in your chosen quarters. It made you feel relaxed, in a way. Before leaving, you were extremely extraverted, always going out of your way to make acquaintances with everyone around you. The life forces around you at night kept you alive, it gave a sense of warmth and comfort to lull you to slumber. On Gyfil, there was none of that. You had to rely on your own warmth to comfort yourself to sleep. No lush trees or animals to provide even the smallest bit of connection. It was just You and the Force. Sleeping for the first time in the Jedi Temple after returning felt like a sensory overload. Everything was loud, and rough. You could feel it coursing through your veins at the speed of light. No matter what you did, it was too much.

You didn’t sleep the first few days. Eventually you got used to the noise, but not enough to get a decent amount of rest at night. There was one sound that sometimes made it impossible to sleep, one Force signature that kept trying to break through the walls you put up to protect yourself when you’re most vulnerable. What scared you the most was the fact your own signature subconsciously fought back against the walls you put. You refused to acknowledge it, choosing to fall into a deep meditative slumber and stay alert as opposed to any actual sleep. Whoever it was would not get into your head so easily.

Knock knock. Obi-Wan stepped into the room once his presence was made known, gently shutting the door behind him. “Y/n…”

You looked up and squinted at him. “I thought we agreed to not speak?”

“Yes, well, that proves to be a bit tricky now doesn’t it?” He smiled tightly and crossed his arms over his chest.

You huffed out air in a sorry attempt at a sarcastic laugh, shaking your head a little. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

It was neither hostile nor endearing. It was simply his first name. To him you sounded tired, and judging by the way you sat on the cot, leaning back against the cold metal wall with your eyes half opened, he presumed his assumption was correct. He spoke gently, “Anakin estimates we should be coming out of hyperspace and landing soon.”

“I figured.” It wasn’t your intention to be stoic but that's how you’ve been training yourself to speak to the man in front of you. The faster the conversation ends, the faster he leaves.

Obi-Wan, however, was not having it. “How are you feeling? I know it hasn’t been that long since you returned from your previous assignment.”

You shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.”

“No one who says that is ever truly ‘fine’ Y/n/n,” he says, taking a step closer to the bed. “I know you. What’s on your mind, darling?”

You slowly met his gaze, debating whether to open up or keep yourself closed off. On one hand, the idea of exposing your anxieties to someone didn’t feel right to you, letting someone know about your weaknesses and insecurities. However, you knew in order for the mission to succeed you would have to be willing to work with Obi-Wan and to do that a sense of trust had to be built. Rebuilt, technically.

“If you wish not to speak, I understand.” He hesitated turning his back to you, “excuse me.” He was about to make his leave before you interrupted.

“Obi-Wan, wait,” You sighed, shifting so there was room for him to sit on the bed. “Sit.”

He did as he was told, eyeing you carefully. “Honestly, I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” You knew his intentions and as pure as they were you cannot bring yourself to tell him the truth. “I admit that I...am slightly concerned about the mission.”

It wasn’t the answer Obi-Wan was hoping for, but he was willing to hear anything he could get out of you. “You have nothing to be worried about Y/n/n. You’re an extremely capable Jedi and I have no doubt in my mind you will lead us through it.”

You smiled, only slightly but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back.

Your eyes locked tight with each other, and everything around you became emptiness. A void surrounded you both and the presence of the other was all that could be felt.

“Staring competitions are pointless.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straight and attempting to return your meditative state.

“No they aren’t!: Obi-Wan argued from his spot across from you.

“All you do is stare at each other until someone blinks. Waste of time.”

“Nuh uh. Master Qui-Gon told me that--” Obi-Wan stood up, “--‘The eyes are a window to the soul’--” you laughed at the bad attempt he made to mimic his Master;s voice, “--therefore staring competitions can be a very good battle tactic.”

“Jedi don’t do battles, remember? We’re peacekeepers.” You looked up at your friend. “Besides, you just want an excuse to get lost in my eyes.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “You know me so well.”

So much has changed about the man in front of you, you could hardly recognize him. You never allowed yourself the pleasure to examine what you missed out on. One moment he was a young man who looked like he could take on the universe, and now all you could see was one tired man doing his best. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, is what the old You would have teased. But post-living-ten-years-by-yourself You was different. In a way, you understood. Although you didn’t fight any life-threatening battles and put yourself in the line of fire every week, you have worked tirelessly towards the same goal.

Peace.

Like this moment.

For once, it was quiet. You felt yourself relax slowly, focusing on the one noise that soothed your anxious mind. It felt warm and...close. Something you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

Obi-Wan leaned closer, his heart reacting faster than his brain. He felt a warmth he had been longing for over a decade. When he reached out, he no longer felt desolate. He wanted to hold on to the feeling and never let go.

But alas in time of war, small moments of peace only last for so long.

“Hey! We’re here.”

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reblog and comment what will happen on the mission 👀👀

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germvity · 3 years

Text

RISES THE MOON

leon s kennedy x reader // 5 // blue blood

the officer sighs, keeping you close as he slowly starts to settle himself. eventually, leon falls asleep himself, rolling over with you so you were between him and the wall of the shack. you mumble incoherently at the movement, eyelids fluttering as you stir. yet, leon's deep breathing and soothing heartbeat makes you fall asleep once more.

genre: angst with fluff

tags: nemesis 👺, he's stinky, david being a bully 2.0, leon being a sweetheart, he cares, jill being a good friend <3, might rewrite this chapter maybe bc i just know im gonna skip a few paragraphs to get this out a bit earlier :(

warnings: bullying, hitting/beatings, crying, confession swerves, mild heartbreak bc i hate myself </3

tag list <3

@trinswhimsys , @hex-touchstarved (ily mutual <3)

---

you woke up with a harsh headache and no recollection of what happened the night before, tears stinging your eyes as you crouch down to work on the dirty generator in front of you. the wires singed your fingertips, and you hiss, pulling away right as the generator let out a skull splitting bang. your head ached as your heartbeat picked up, and you darted from the machine and into the gas station with nemesis now hot on your tail. "fuck.." you whine, just your luck that he would be on you first. you throw down a pallet with urgency, gasping as his tentacle slashes a deep infection into you. you splutter, blue blood oozing down your body as you cough into your arm. vaulting the window was easy, but unfortunately the killer's appendage is much longer than you thought as it whips your back, leaving behind a nasty gash.

fortunately, a pallet was nestled between two cars and you ran for it, managing to stun the greedy monster before scrambling to safety. "fuck.." you whine, coughing up some blue sludge as you quickly hide in your surroundings. the nemesis walks past you angrily, storming away and leaving you for a moments peace. you spot a white box's aura nearby, and it beckoned you over the the feeling of safety. you round the corner and see it sat there, and crouch down to snap the flimsy lock. you raise the vial carefully out of the foam in the case, sighing in relief before a rough hand snatches the scruff of your shirt. you yelp in surprise as david throws you to the ground, the vaccine rolls away from you and you reach for it. "you fucker! i never lose a fight!" david roars, kicking your stomach firmly. you cry out in pain, curling up into a tight ball to try and avoid david hitting any vulnerable spots. "i hate you! i hate you so much..!" the fighter continues, but now crouches down to pull you from your protective position. he punches you roughly and you wail in pain as blood bursts from your nose.

"leon!" you scream, hoping he was in this trial to help you. "leon! help me!" you cry out again, and david's cruel laughter finds your ears. "that pretty boy isn't here." he grins, giving you another punch before a pair of hands grab him. "what the-?!" the zombie cuts him off, teeth piercing david's neck as he screams in agony. the fighter scrambles away, and the zombie ignores you to follow him. "hello? i heard screaming." a new voice intrudes, and jill peaks around the corner. "jesus- what happened?" she rushes over to you as you reach for her weakly. "david... he's so mean." you cry, letting her pull you close as she hugs you tightly. "come on, let's get you somewhere safe." she offers a sad smile, pulling you up carefully.

jill patches you up firmly and cured you, she let you follow her around for the trial, pointing out totems and chests for you to work on whilst she pumped out gens. ash gave your hair an affectionate ruffle in passing, but he was always more of a lone wolf, so he left quickly to distract nemesis. the rest of the trial went bad quickly. david was mori'd, ash died on hook and jill was gravely injured as well as dead on hook by the time the last generator was powered up.

with noed rampant in the end, and the gates blocked by the entity, you and jill stayed hidden behind a pile of crushed cars as the nemesis patrolled the gates carefully. "fuck... what are we gonna do?" you whimper, looking at jill. "i have an idea. i saw hatch earlier, we can find a key." jill gives you a smile, "but all the chests are open?" you remind her, and she shrugs. "no matter, elodie taught me how to look thoroughly." she pulls you along, and you have no choice but to follow. the chest you two found had a broken key in it, and jill tossed it away to start rummaging. "aha!" she beams, tossing a skeleton key into the air and catching it as she offers you her other hand. "c'mon, let's get out of here." she says, and you take her hand.

the two of you run past the undead, past nemesis who caught wind of your scratch marks and started following, stopping at the hatch. jill leans down, unlocking the door quickly as you turn to see nemesis approaching way too quick for your liking. "c'mon, move it!" she yells, pushing you down into the void and jumping in after you. the trap door slams shut, cutting off any light as the two of you fall into the thick smoke.

you regenerate abruptly, catching yourself but still falling when jill is thrown onto you. she wraps her arms around her waist and steadies the two of you quickly, mumbling an apology as she lets go of you. "it's okay.." you reply, letting her lead you to your shack. "leon's probably waiting, c'mon." jill yawns, spotting the blonde who was indeed waiting at your door. his eyes scan the tree line, searching for you. "leon!" you call, and his eyes brighten at the sight of you and jill. "y/n! are you okay?" he runs over to meet you half way, letting you hug him tightly. "be careful, they've had a rough trial." jill says sternly, and leon nods. "thanks for looking after them, jill." he smiles, and jill nods before walking away.

"come on then, let's get you rested." leon says, but freezes when he sees the bruises on your face, "oh, what happened?" he cups your face carefully, analysing you for any signs of a concussion. "david got me... he's really mad." you sigh, melting into his touch. "that fucker... he'll get what's coming to him." leon growls, pulling you into a tight and safe hug. "can we go inside?" you ask quietly, and he nods. "of course, c'mon."

you feel safe with leon, and relax more as you enter your practically shared home. leon turns away as he lets you get changed into some more comfy and cleaner clothes, taking off his bullet proof vest and putting it in its usual spot against the wall. you flop down on your bed with a huff, the blanket feels so welcoming as leon sits next to you. you rest your head on his thigh, letting him gently stroke your cheek as you close your eyes. "you feel any better?" he asks softly, and you nod. "good. just relax, yeah?" leon smiles, leaning back against your wall as he gets comfy.

you move from his lap and smile at him. "lay down with me?" you ask, and leon chuckles. "sure." he says, joining you and letting you cuddle into him. "leon?" you mumble softly, resting your head on his chest. "yeah?" he responds immediately, rubbing your back. "thank you for doing this for me... i don't deserve you." you smile sadly and leon huffs. "don't say that. you deserve the world." the blonde says firmly, moving so you would look at him. "i like you a lot, y/n." he admits yet you just smile. "i like you too." you reply, and leon's heart tightens as he realises you're unaware of his meaning. "i like you, so much more than i should.." he whispers and you process his words.

"wait... like that or am i reading into this too much..?" you ask sheepishly and leon nods, "like that." he confirms and you look away to think. "y/n..?" he whispers, desperate for any response. "i'm sorry... i can't... i don't wanna lose you or get hurt." you reply, voice also just above a whisper. "that's fine." leon smiles to hide the pain he felt. "i'm sorry..." you say again, holding him close. "it's alright, i don't mind." leon lies, his heart burning with sorrow. "just get some sleep, y/n." he says, holding you as if you would melt away if you let go.

"are you okay?" you ask softly, hands rubbing his back. "yeah, i'm completely fine." leon replies, ignoring the strain in his voice. "no you're not... i'm so sorry..." you whisper, feeling your own tears starting to well up. "don't cry, it's fine." leon smiles, wiping your face for you. "i'm so sorry, leon.. i just don't want to get hurt." you say, nestling your head into his neck. "i know, i know.. let's change the subject now until you fall asleep." he sighs.

soon enough the two of you are talking again, and leon almost forgets the rejection until you doze off. "as long as you're okay..." he whispers to himself as he brushes fallen hair from your face. "i couldn't care less about my own feelings." he smiles, tears stinging his eyes as he pulls you into his chest.

#dbd leon #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #dead by daylight resident evil #dead by daylight #germvity writing

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 3 years

Text

there for you

summary: your best friend Bowen can’t help but draw some connections between you and your favorite show.

word count: 2k

warnings: heavy spoilers for New Girl. like, its basically the premise of the fic

note from the writer: here’s a link to a tweet with the scene im talking about in this fic, its from the episode “Oregon” (season 4 ep 16). shoutout to @bqstqnbruin for finding it for me

Bowen had long since stopped asking to come over before showing up on your doorstep. Usually, he’d send a ‘are you home?’ text to make sure you were around, before heading to your apartment for whatever reason he had in mind.

The latest text had come in twenty minutes ago, so you knew he was going to show up soon.

Like clockwork, you heard a knock on your front door and Bowen greeting your roommates before your bedroom door opened. He was grinning, wide as ever, and you opened your arms for a hug from your position laying in bed, under the covers and in the middle of a New Girl marathon.

“Scoot over.” Bowen grins, barely giving you enough time to react before dropping on top of you, arms wrapped around your middle and his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You paused the show, not wanting to miss anything despite being on your third rewatch.

You wondered if he could feel how fast your heart was beating. If he knew just how much his touch affected you, how many feelings you were harboring from him.

“What’s up?” You asked, pushing away any thoughts about your massive crush on your best friend as you tried to get to the bottom of why he showed up out of the blue. It wasn’t the first time he had done so, but he always had a reason.

“I wanted to see you. Practice was rough.” He mumbled in the crook of your neck. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, how they fell past his lips so easily. Those words made you think that maybe your feelings weren’t so one sided, that there was a chance for you to be even happier than you already were with your best friend.

“You’re going to make me blush.” You teased, downplaying the fact that he really did manage to fluster you. Bowen snorted, squeezing you tightly once more instead of responding to your comment. An easy moment of silence passed, one that wasn’t stifling or awkward and it reminded you once more just how much you enjoyed being around Bowen. Subconsciously, one of your hands threaded through his hair. “I like it when your hair is longer like this.”

Your words were punctuated by a tug on his roots and though he didn’t say anything, he hummed contentedly. You worried that maybe he’d be able to hear the hammering of your heart or he’d know that the smile on your face wasn’t because of your platonic love for him. You feared that he would know—know how much you loved him and know that you had been hiding your feelings for so long. But you couldn’t let yourself think too much about that, you couldn’t let yourself overthink and ruin one of your closest friendships, so you tactfully changed the subject.

“Are we napping or watching my show?” You asked, though you had a pretty good idea what his answer would be.

“Nap, please.” He mumbled, and you could never deny him, especially when he was acting so sleepy and adorable, so you agreed easily. You both shifted your positions slightly, you trying to find the comfiest spot and him climbing under the covers with you, but eventually you both melted into your mattress, Bowen’s head still buried in the crook of your neck.

Bowen tried to stay awake a little longer; to tell you about his morning and the practice he had just come from that had drained his energy completely. But before long, his words were slurring together and when he stopped mid sentence, you knew he had fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around you and your fingers carding through his hair.

You tried to stay up too, to relish in the feeling of being in his arms. But you knew that pretending like it meant something more than it did was only going to break your heart more, so soon after he dozed off you closed your eyes and followed suit.

You were the first one to wake up, a combinatin of Bowen’s weight on you becoming slightly uncomfortable and the need to use the bathroom, so you did your best to climb out from underneath him without waking him. You thought you had made it out clear, but the moment your feet hit the floor Bowen was stirring from behind you.

“Where are you going?” He mumbled, causing you to halt your movements. It was far from the first time you had heard his gravelly voice just after he woke up, but it never failed to make your heart race. You swore you could listen to him talk forever, which was a good thing, since he never seemed to be able to stop talking.

“Bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You told him, finally standing to your feet. When you turned back around, Bowen was already watching you with tired eyes that made your heart clench. God, you were so gone for him.

You slipped out of the room without saying anything more, not trusting yourself to not blurt out just exactly how his smile made you feel. When you returned, he was sitting up against your headboard, your laptop open on his lap as he queued up the episode you had been watching before he arrived.

“New Girl again?” Bowen teased when he spotted you enter the room. You playfully rolled your eyes at him, climbing back into your spot beside him on the bed. You mirrored his position, though you dropped your head against his shoulder.

“It’s a good show. Plus, Jess and Nick’s relationship is my favorite.” You told him decidedly, like you had a dozen times before. The relationship between Jess and Nick truly was somehting you strived for—friends that were always in love with each other, no matter the problems that arised and even when they were broken up they did their best to keep the other happy.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, shifting slightly so that his arm was around you and he could hold you closer to his side. “What episode are we on?”

“Oregon.” You started, knowing you’d have to catch him up on more than just the episode name. “Jess, Cece, and the guys go to Portland because Jess’ dad is getting married. Jess’ boyfriend, Ryan, was supposed to show up but since he lives in England he said it wouldn’t make sense for him to be there. So, Nick’s trying to make Jess feel better because he secretly loves her and I just need them to get back together.”

“Don’t they end up together though?” Bowen asks, trying to recall as much about the show as he could. It might not have been one of his personal favorites, but he knew you loved it, so that was enough for him to try and follow along.

“Yeah, but they aren’t right now.” You confirm. Before Bowen could ask anymore questions, you pressed play on your laptop and continued where you left off. Jess and the group had just arrived at her childhood home, only to find her mom ready to greet Ryan, who wasn’t there. The scene played on, with Nick telling Jess the hard truth that Ryan bailing wasn’t okay.

You could feel Bowen’s eyes on you as the scene changed to Nick comforting Jess in her room. Giggling at the Jordan Catalano joke, you tried your best to focus on the screen and not the piercing blue eyed gaze that seemed to be studying your face. And, like you always did when you got to this scene, you bit your lip to supress a grin as Nick delivered his next line.

“The only thing that matters is that the guy is there for you when you need him. Otherwise, you’re dating a wall.”

“Are you even paying attention, Bow? That’s like, my favorite line. What I wouldn’t give to have someone love me the way Nick loves Jess.” You sighed, settling further against Bowen as the episode continued on. He didn’t say anything in response, other than a quiet hum, but for the rest of the episode you could practically hear the gears turning inside his head as he turned his attention to the screen.

Netflix automatically continued on to the next episode, but as soon as the intro started Bowen’s hand shot out and paused the show. You looked at him curiously; the two of you usually got through at least a couple of episodes whenever you hung out like you were then.

“You know…” Bowen started, trailing off before he finished his thought. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, and it was clear that what he wanted to say was on the tip of his tongue so you stayed silent while he found his words. “I’m always there for you.”

You felt your heart stop beating and skip three beats all at once. You weren’t sure where he was going with his train of thought, but if you had to guess you would be getting your hopes up. Because there was absolutely no way that he felt the same for you that Nick does for Jess.

“Yeah, you are…” You breathed, trying to get him to meet your gaze but instead he stayed focused on your comforter pulled over both of your laps. The hand that wasn’t around your shoulders was toying with the fabric, and in a bid to calm him down enough to get him to say what he needed you slipped your hand into his. Bowen drew in a steadying breath and finally met your gaze, a dozen and one emotions swirling behind his eyes.

“I love you, you know.” He said firmly, like there was no question about it in the slightest and not the very words you had been dying to hear from him for years. You nodded, unable to form words but not wanting to leave him hanging.

You supposed you did know that he loved you. He showed it in his blatant affection and the frequent texts about how his life was going. He cared for you, there was no doubt about it, but you had never let yourself believe that he meant anything more than friendship. And now he was offereing everything you’d ever wanted on a silver platter.

“Bowen,” You started, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him just how much you loved him back. Instead, you moved the hand that wasn’t wrapped up in his to rest on Bowen’s jaw, turning his head just slightly so that you could press your lips to yours in a long awaited kiss that stole your breath.

Kissing Bowen felt so much better than what you imagined. The angle was a little odd and your neck was craned to face him, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You’d share a thousand more awkwardly positioned kisses if it meant you got to be with Bowen.

You were the first to pull away, but you didn’t move far, wide grins on both of your faces as you took in the events of the past few moments. Your friendship was definitely changed, and in place was a relationship that you had been hoping for.

“I love you, too.” You finally mumbled. You wanted to tell him how you had loved him from the moment you met, how he made you fall in love with him with each and every day, but for the moment all that mattered was he knew you loved him just the same as he loved you.

“I hope, or else this is going to be awkward.” He mumbled playfully, leaning in again to close the distance between the two of you. You couldn’t help but chuckle against him, your hand slipping from his jaw to curve around the back of his neck in order to deepen the kiss.

Bowen was the Nick to your Jess, and not a day went by that you weren’t greatful for him.

#bowen byram #bowen byram fic #bowen byram imagine #bowen byram x reader #Colorado Avalanche #colorado avalanche fic #Colorado Avalanche x reader #Colorado Avalanche imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey x reader

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

Text

Christmas at the Hoods

You escape your family by going home with Calum to Australia for the holiday. And the escape is necessary, but at the end of it, you’re reminded that sometimes family is chosen rather than given.

Reader Insert. Fluff a little bit of angst. You just a perfect amount of tear your heart out but then put it back like nothing ever happened.

CW: Death of a parent, strained family relationships.

Enjoy my masterlist.

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You stare down at the text from your mother. Are u coming home for Christmas? The truth is--no, you don’t want to come home. Home is too stiff, reminds you just how much you don’t fit. And maybe it’s just you, you thinking that you won’t ever live up to their expectations of what your life should be like, and maybe it’s not fair to them. But given all that, you still don’t want to subject yourself to that awful feeling, the squirming in your spot wondering how long is appropriate for you to stay before you dip the family pretend bonding.

You don’t want to go home. But you don’t have an excuse not to go. You sigh and place your phone face down on the counter. Ice clinks around in the glass that Calum sets down in front of you. Over the speakers faintly, you hear the twang and kick of guitar as Carla Thomas sings her conversation with an imagined other. At Christmas time, Calum gave you control over the speakers whenever you come over. He liked the Christmas music you had saved and even if he didn’t always get full on decorations the music helped the holiday feel a bit more real for the time you were over at least.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “That had to be the heaviest sigh I’ve ever heard.”

“My mom,” you reply, unlocking your phone and showing him the text. “I can’t exactly say, ‘No, I don’t have any plans. But I don’t feel like pretending to care so I won’t be coming home.’ Wouldn’t go over nicely.”

Calum stares down at the text. The exchange previous to this was a Happy Thanksgiving text that you replied to and prior to that it seems like the conversation was just your mother updating you about the changes she was making to the home office. To which you only replied with ‘Pretty!’ but nothing more. He always suspected you and your family weren’t that close. You talked pretty highly of your dad, but he passed away a couple years ago. And you and your mother just didn’t click. Any sort of sustained interaction always seemed to go south. He just hadn’t had a clue just how sort you kept your conversations with your mother.

He had plans to go home to Australia. His sister was flying in too, the first time he wouldn’t have to split his Christmas vacation time between London and Sydney. Calum knew for sure that Luke was going home to Australia too. He wasn’t sure about Michael, though if previous years proved to be any sort of pattern, Michael would be spending Christmas with his partner’s family. Ashton seemed to be tentatively planning spending New Years in Australia at the very least. Sure you had other friends but given the holiday, he suspected that they might be traveling home or spending time with their families.

“Come with me to Australia,” he offers.

“You leave in a week, tops? The cost of that ticket on it’s own is going to be fucking awful.” You take your phone as it’s handed back over, but you only focus in on him. There was no way he was serious about an offer like that. There was no way he was getting a roundtrip ticket for you under three grand. Tickets for that kind of travel months in advance were easily a grand or more. So there was no way Calum could guarantee a ticket for you round trip in a week for a reasonable price.

“I always told you I was going to take you home with me one of these days,” he counters. “Show you those Sydney streets I grew up on.”

You laugh at the way he bobs with his fists in front of his face like a boxer in the middle of the ring. “Yeah, when we could both plan it out and I could at least pay for my own airfare. I can’t Cal. I appreciate it and you. But that’s too soon and I can’t have you dropping money like that on me such short notice.” You take the glass from the counter and spin around in the barstool before traveling to the couch.

Calum drops his arms and follows behind. He’s not worried about money. That’s nothing. “I can’t leave you alone for the holidays. I know going home would just be rough right now. I’d-I’d come with you if you wanted.”

“Oh my god, Calum, no. Go home. You haven’t seen your mom and dad in ages. I’ll be okay.”

“If I cancel I can still get a voucher for another time,” he offers and settles onto the ottoman in front of you.

“Go home. See your parents. Give them a hug. Fucking hell, I’m not worth canceling a trip over. I’ll suffer through this Christmas like I have every other Christmas.”

With a tap to your knee, Calum shakes his head. “My friend absolutely cannot spend Christmas miserable. I won’t have it.”

You shake your head. It’s not like you haven’t had to spend every other CHristmas miserable--what’s one more to the list? Calum looks to the coffee table and spies his phone. He stretches out for it. This would be embarrassing to admit. He wasn’t going to do it like this. In all actuality, he had meant to ask you last week. But you had to out of town for a conference. He hadn’t realized the conference was this late in the year but it was one that you had been trying to get into for years, so when you landed the opportunity, Calum knew you’d take it in a heartbeat.

You take hold of the phone as it’s handed to you. “What’s this?” You ask but Calum remains silent and you glance down to the phone to see it opened to an app. “Why am I staring at trip information?”

“It’s because I bought two round trip tickets,” he returns.

“What do you mean you bought two tickets?”

“One of those is for you. If you want to go.”

You drop his phone into your lap and push to the edge of the seat. “When the hell did you buy these tickets?”

“A couple months ago. I knew the holidays were always a little rough for you.” He shrugs. “At least you won’t have to lie to your mum now.”

“Calum you are the most insane person I’ve ever met and I’ve lived with myself for a while now. When the fuck were you going to tell me?”

“I had plans to last week. But I remembered you were going out of town for that conference and I wanted you to focus on that since you had to present and be on a panel too.”

“How fucking early do I need to wake up?” you asks.

“I-I figured you come over the day before, sleep over and then I’d drive us to the airport.”

“It’s summer in Australia right now, correct?” He nods at your question. “Beaches?”

“If you wanna go, sure.”

“Do I get to say that I’m being kidnapped for Christmas?”

“If you really want to phrase it like that.”

“I’m in,” you agree and Calum smiles, wrapping his arms around you as you fall into him in a hug. “Thanks, Cal.”

“Of course,” he returns softly. He’d do anything for you, or just about anything if he’s honest. You matter to him and even if he does have to kidnap you for the holidays, he’s happy to do it if it means you won’t be miserable.

A couple hours go by and you head home, now having to start packing for the holiday trip with Calum. As you sit on the floor in front of your suitcase, you pick up your phone. You aim to go the weather app and see what it’s like in Sydney right now. But the text notification from your mom still lingers on the messages app. You tap on it and reply. No, Mom, sorry. Going to visit Australia for Christmas.

Who’s in Australia?

Calum’s family is there.

Who’s Calum? Is that the boy you talk about in the band?

“Fuck,” you mutter, realizing there were two ways this could go. You hadn’t ever really talked about your friends with your mother. Your dad knew and he filled her in a little bit, but even still you didn’t tell him a lot before he died. Mostly because you were afraid. What would happen if you told him everything and you needed help and he died? He’d be the only one to know and then he’d be gone. You’d have no one. So you told him half of everything. You told him about the band and some of your friends and you told him that you were doing okay. But you didn’t tell him that you were finally starting to figure what what you were meant to be doing on this earth. You didn’t tell him that you were dating around. Your dad only knew half the truth and now you realized all he could tell was half your truth to your mother. He could only convey what he knew and your mother didn’t always listen too well. She always got into her head what she wanted to hear and that’s the version she went with.

You can almost imagine your mother now, sitting on her couch tapping at the screen of her phone with one finger and looking up to the kitchen where your dad would usually be--and here, she would call out to your dad to ask Do you know about this Calum fella? They ever talk to you about ‘im? And your dad would reply in some sorts clipped and in half truths, Yeah, they’re friends or something. He’s got a good head on his shoulders from what I could tell. Because that what your dad would always say about any of your friends, that they always had a good head on their shoulders because he trusted you.

Your dad told you once that he said they always had a good head on their shoulders because you had a good head on yours and you’d never be friends with anyone that didn’t match morals like yours. He knew you’d never get mixed up in something that you couldn’t see yourself out of because he had raised you, because he had to trust you now; his fears couldn’t stand in the way of you living your life.

If you could tell your dad the whole truth, you would. You would tell him the first year after his diagnosis you lost yourself. You’d tell him that Calum had found you more than once on the edge of something dark and secured you to his chest for nights on end. He’d take you the studio with you just so you wouldn’t be alone. You’d tell your dad about the times you cooked all his favorites just so your house smelt of him. You’d tell him that even though you and your mother fought and you felt like you were always at arm’s length with some family, you always loved him. You’d tell him everything in full detail so that when he died, he would die knowing fully.

Yeah, you start typing to reply to your mother’s question, he’s the guy in the band.

Enjoy. But you should see family during this season too. Remember the ones that have been with you through thick and thin.

You don’t respond to the text. More than half of your mom’s side didn’t show up to the funeral. They never liked your dad all too much and you were slowly uncovering why. But no matter the reasons, it hurt. It hurt to walk with your mother down the aisle of that church to the funeral procession and seeing a halfway empty church because her side hadn’t supported the marriage. Your father was dead and the least they could do was show up to a fucking funeral. There’s no thick or thin in that, just them.

Another text buzzes through your phone. It’s from your aunt, on your dad’s side. We’re loving the pj’s! Nana’s rocking the new slippers and everything. Take care and rest. Wanna come by for New Years? We may be old but we can still keep up!

You laugh at the photo of your grandmother, sleeping as she sits on the couch, bundling up in the robe you also ordered for her. The new slippers are almost falling off her feet. That’s keeping up if I’ve ever seen it, you return. I might come by a little after New Years but I’ll bring the wine--you just bring the chips and dip. Going out of town for a little bit.

No worries! We’ll see you then. Chips and dip are stocked. Don’t you worry. Enjoy!

There’s a twinge--you almost want to stay just for them. But nothing feels the same anymore if you’re honest. When you hang out with your dad’s side of the family, there’s a hole. His seat is way too empty, even if you sit in. There’s no one to joke around. Your grandmother has no one to pass on her list of chores too besides finding people in town to help her with. And it’s not the same. They don’t laugh when she hands it over. They don’t joke that they only had a son just so he could do all the house repairs, or lawnmower repairs.

It has to be hard for them too. It’s all around just not a great time. But then in your peripherals you see your halfway packed suitcase, the swimsuits you’ve rolled up and tucked into one of the mesh pouches. Was this running? Or was this healing? Was going all the way to Australia just an escape? Maybe it was all three, but it was running into an escape but on the other side, there was some healing in it too. You continue packing, pulling out some loungewear and figuring how many pairs of jeans to include on this trip too.

You feel silly in your sneakers and leggings as more people filter into the terminal area from TSA in bulky coats. But Calum’s dressed roughly the same next to you, only in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Your phone shakes in your hands. Let me know when you land, your mother requests in the text.

Will do.

“Do your parents know I’m coming?” you asks, suddenly remembering that you will be in their place for three weeks.

“They know,” Calum returns, slouching down in the chair. “Trust me. Mum keeps asking me if you have any food allergies or dietary restrictions. And everytime I answer, she asks if I have checked in with you recently about it. And I have a feeling if you suddenly sprouted some new allergy, I would know by now.”

“That’s how moms are,” you laugh.

“Don’t be surprised if you find your favorite snacks just chilling in the kitchen.”

The thought of Joy going out of her way to find out via Calum about your favorite snacks and to only have them just in her cabinets or pantry makes you laugh but deeper than that you feel touched, chest warming just a little at the thought that she’d do something above and beyond. You slouch down to match Calum and rest your head onto his shoulder. “Is your childhood bedroom still embarrassing?”

A soft exhale of laughter pushes through Calum’s chest. “No, not too embarrassing anymore. Some of the posters are still up and mum’s changed the bedding for sure. A few of my things are tucked into the closet. But Mum’s said she’s been going through things in the house slowly so maybe she’s put more things on display just to set me up.”

You nod. “I imagine there are going to be lots of sports posters.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Calum chimes, resting his cheek on your head. “I was supposed to be the sports kid. I mean, I was the sports kid for a really long time.”

“Then you found out you had those pipes,” you laugh, tapping on his chest.

“Yeah, then I realized music was a thing. Mali used to blast R&B and I mean blast it. But she’s always had great taste in music so it was never like the songs were bad. They were just loud. Sometimes I’d stay with Michael for as long as I could. Not that I didn’t want to be home, I just wanted to save my ears for a little bit before Mali and Dad would take over.”

“Your dad sings?”

“He’ll tell you only a little bit. But yeah, he sings.”

“So it’s a family trait!” you laugh. “A long line of singers.”

“Mum would disagree with you.”

You glance down and look at the initials inked into his skin. You brush your thumb over Joy’s. You had only heard about her. Once you saw her. Calum was calling home when you dropped by unplanned. It was quick, you waved at her from his computer but mostly you hang around in the kitchen, petting Duke as he wrapped up the call. From the way he talks about her, you know he’s close to his family. You know being away from home is hard sometimes for him. You’ve talked to Mali more, caught Calum a few times FaceTiming her too, or meeting her when she visited LA for his birthday. You know about his Dad too. Haven’t met him yet, but you’ve seen him when you watched the ARIA’s one year and he dad popped up in the crowd while the band performed. You screencapped the moment and send it as a reaction photo to Calum whenever he shares good news. You’re sure he must be sick of it, but he never says anything about your habit.

“There’s a little shop not too far from the house. I used spend hours to looking at all the trinkets. I think you’d like it,” he admits quietly.

“Yeah, I’d be down for that.”

“But first, there will be food,” he laughs just as the speakers overhead crackle to life and the voice faintly reminds everyone of the boarding procedure. You can Calum both stand, slinging backpacks onto your shoulders as you want for them to call group one to board. “Lots of food.”

“I’m ready,” you return.

Sleep on the plane isn’t all that restful, but you take it in stride though you manage to make progress in your book. Halfway through the flight, Calum holds out one of his earbuds to you. “You’ll like it,” he urges and you take the bud placing it into your ear.

Somewhere between the songs that Calum plays and the movie you’re not fully paying attention to, sleep claims you once again. And you let it hold you well past the light layer of sleep you had the first time. Sleep lays claim to you, holding you deeply into its grasps. You only find yourself waking up when the lights on the plane lift just a little and it breaks through your lashes and Calum shakes you awake. The two of you climb from your seats, backpacks on shoulders and wind through the airport to baggage. Thanks to the cat and dog luggage tags you bought, spotting your and Calum’s luggage is easy. Calum easy snatched the cartoon dog but you didn’t put up a fight. You let him have it, especially since it looked slightly reminiscent of Duke.

As you gather your luggage, you hear a voice from behind you. Calum turns to the sound of it immediately, his hand leaving the handle of his suitcase. You grab it for him and watch him, hearing his laughter escape him, as he runs up to his mother. “Mum,” he laughs, “hey!”

The hug looks bone crushing, only the hug a mom can give that even if it shouldn’t be tight is tight because there’s nothing like the squeeze. “Oh, my boy,” she grins. It lights up her whole face and you stand, just behind them, a couple feet off, both suitcases in front of you.

Joy spots you and the grin grows brighter. She releases Calum and shuffles up to you, arms still opened wide. “Hi! Look at you,” she greets. You immediately step out from the luggage. She’s warm and taller than you imagined as you hug her. She gives you a squeeze and your eyes water just a little. There’s something to the embrace that makes your chest tight and you find yourself clinging a little tighter to her too as she runs on about how late it is, and how hungry and tired you both must be. She keeps you close, an arm around your shoulders, hand splayed across your back. Joy pinches Calum’s cheek and wraps her other arm around his waist.

“C’mon, c’mon,” she urges. “David’s with the car. But I just couldn’t wait to see you both. Oh, it’s so good.”

Even as you exiting the plane it shocked you just how bright in the day it was still. But when you look down at your phone you realize you’re almost a whole day ahead, now standing in the middle of the afternoon, as if you somehow only flew a few hours instead of half the day. Calum’s dad is not parked too far from the entrance. As the three of you approach, he runs up some of the way with a large smile. “Aye!” he laughs, hands clapping Calum on the back. “Look at you!” “I swear I haven’t gotten any taller, Dad.”

“Coulda fooled me,” David returns. “Now,” he laughs, pointing to you. “I heard you got dragged along. Did ya put up a fight?”

“Less of a drag, more a kidnapping,” you return but step into the embrace with a laugh.

“Next time, next time, you’ll go a couple rounds with him, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, next time.” You don’t know if it’s going to be a next time but the idea sounds nice. Calum and David load up the suitcase into the trunk before all four of you slip into the car--you and Calum in the back.

“Hope they haven’t scared you off,” Calum whispers to you. You shake your head, mouth opening to say more but then David pipes up from the front seat. You almost don’t catch what he says, but Joy and Calum respond, so you stay quiet with a bit of a nod and watch the lights fade behind you as you travel down the streets. You make sure to text your mother that you arrived safely.

Calum’s room isn’t so bad, like he figured. Though you do almost wish there were a few more embarrassing posters on the wall. No sooner than the two of you can slip bags off and get out of shoes, a knock sounds from the door. It’s Joy, peeking her head inside. “Calum knows this, but you’re free to whatever’s in the house to munch on. I think there’s a few beer already cold too. But,” she waves her hand a little as if dismissing the thought. “either way, whatever’s there, you’re welcome to take.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hood.”

“Joy, call me Joy.”

“Thank you, Joy.” She nods and then slips back out of the room.

“They’ll be like that for another couple of days, but don’t mind them.” Calum shows you were the linen’s closet is and where the bathroom is too. “If you wanna shower first, I’ll whip up some snacks.”

“Oh, that’s some hard work putting together some snacks.”

He glares at you, throwing a towel at your head. You manage to duck it though it does land on your shoulder. You laugh as he flips you off and then heads to the kitchen. You head back to the room and grab a different set of clothes. It takes a moment to get the water right but you keep the shower as short as you can and slip into the clean clothes.

You return to the kitchen and find Calum with a plate of various chips, fruit snacks, and a small section of meat and cheeses out. He cracks open a beer just as you pad into the kitchen. “Want one?” he asks, but you decline the offer.

“It’s cozy,” you say softly looking around the living room and kitchen of the house. Even Calum’s room teleports you. You’re not sure where just yet, and even though it’s obviously a whole different continent there’s something about the house, about seeing Calum’s family so visibly happy to have him back home and the genuine smiles that feels like a warm blanket straight from the dryer. It envelopes you.

Calum shrugs a little. To him, it’s just familiar and a tad foreign. Like he can’t remember if the paintings are the same ones from his last visit but the pictures of him and Mali have never changed. The family vacation photos still line the walls too--unwavering it seems even against all of his mum’s decorating attempts. “Once Mali comes into town, it’ll feel complete,” he states. You wonder how any of this could feel incomplete, but don’t voice that curiosity.

Calum runs up to shower next and in the middle of your munching, Joy returns to the kitchen too. “I’m surprised you’re still standing upright.”

“Oh I could fall over at any point. Keep an eye out.”

Leaning into the counter she nods. “Time zones are killer. I’d say try to make it through as much of today as you can and then zoink out later on. Might be easier to adjust to the time that way.”

“I’m hoping,” you say.

“Calum told me you went to a conference last week. How’d that go?”

“It went well. Slight tech issues with my presentation but we managed to pull through unscatched after that.” You talk a little bit more about it, but are aware that you feel like you're rambling. When you ask her a few questions, she’s more than willing to answer them but she keeps them short and instead asks you more questions too.

“As the best friend, I feel like I need embarrassing material. Do you have photos of baby Calum?” you ask after a bit.

“Of course I do. He asked for some for a video once and I scanned over the most neutral ones. But if you want embarrassing photos, I got ‘em,” she laughs, wiping the salt off her fingers from a chip and waving for you to follow her.

Calum returns the sound of laughter and you cooing about something, he thinks you might’ve mentioned chubby cheeks and he knows without a doubt it’s him. “If you are going to embarass me I’d like to be in the room,” he states, seeing the photo album open on your lap. He steps to the arm of the couch you’re near and watches you flip through a few pages. You pause at a couple and pull your phone out to snap a few pictures of the picture. He doesn’t miss the several messages still lingering on your notification screen from your mother.

It’s over dinner that Joy suggest putting the tree up over the weekend, since Mali will be in town at that point too. No one objects to this plan and the latter half the week you and Calum spend mostly trying to adjust to the time change, though Calum seems to be having an easier go of it than you. Mali is licked up from the airport and you linger behind knowing that there’s not quite enough space for all three of you in the seat. It’s a little strange to be lingering around in Calum’s old room at his mum’s house but it’s not to bad. You take in all the sports posters, notice some medals and trophies still hanging around to otherwise bare shelves. Among them are some photos too--mostly of Calum and the guys. A few of some people you’ve never seen before and you assume they’re friends from soccer, or other sports along the way.

The sound of laughter echoes around you. Though you do hold onto one photo of Calum. He’s in a jersey, arms thrown over the shoulders of two other boys. They smile wide and big at the camera. The grassy fields hold blurry people and you like to imagine in that blur there are parents hugging kids, or kids running to their parents. There are coaches, people shouting in those blurs. The sounds of feet on stair should break you out of your trance staring down at the photo and you hear more laughter too. But you continue to stare down at younger Calum.

Calum tries to catch onto Mali’s wrist. “Do not! God,” he huffs when she slips through his hold. She laughs, backpack still on and barrels past her old room to Calum’s. You’re standing halfway turned to the door, but still clearly engrossed in something.

“Hey,” Mali huffs out, slipping just inside the cracked door. “Have you found the good blackmailing photos yet?”

You jump just a little but lift your gaze and find Calum’s sister beaming brightly at you. “Hi,” you return with a laugh. “I found a few. Your mum broke out the photo album.”

“Good,” she returns. “Sorry for kicking you out of the arrival party. It’s not normally five of us.”

“No, no, it’s cool. I couldn’t necessarily swing a vote on voting Calum out, so, I just took that blow.”

She gives a light tuft of laughter and hisses just a little. “Yeah that’d be a little hard to swing. But I’ll teach ya a few pointers for next time.”

“I’d appreciate that,” you return and Mali excuses herself to drop off her bag. Everyone seems hooked on the concept of a next time. It falls easily from their lips and while you’ve enjoyed the time here thus far, next time isn’t on your mind. Honestly, you’re not sure what’s on your mind besides not thinking about the text messages you need to respond too. Most of them seem to be about making sure you’ve adjusted to the time difference, if you’ve seen anything exciting. And you want to tell her--but you know you’d most likely tell her half truths too. Possibly even quarter ones. So you’ve opted to tell her nothing really. It seems trivial to explain to her that you’ve gone out a couple times--to the beach and the shop that Calum mentioned earlier. Most of the time though, you spend with Calum going down his memory lane. You rode past the school’s he attended, saw all the spots he used to hang out. Those don’t feel like the spots your mother is looking for.

When the Christmas tree is unearthed and Joy brings out the decorations you don’t think about those text messages again. You instead help feed the garland around the tree to Calum who’s standing at the back of the tree and he passes it along to his mon and she passes it to Mali and Mali passes it back to you. And that’s the way it goes for the lights too. Once those are put up, you look over the bulbs that Joy has. Behind you Calum and Mali are already working to put the hooks through the box Joy approved. You’re trying to help her find the last box in that set.

“Short end, Calum. Short end is what you hook through the top of the bulb.”

“Which end is short then?” you hear him return.

“That end,” she laughs. “I’ll put the hooks. You put them on the tree. Don’t put the same colors close together. Space them out.”

“I can decorate a tree,” Calum states.

“Sometimes I wonder.”

You find the last box of bulbs in the matching set, under a layer of icicle like ornaments. “Found ‘em,” you tell Joy and she beams, stopping her work on the box she was digging in.

“Ah! I’m not sure how they got separated.”

“Someone packed them wrong,” Mali returns, focused in on hooks still. “Most likely,” she counters. You step over to her and help prep more ornaments. A few look homemade with popsicle stick and felt. You pause looking at them on the table.

“Made ‘em in primary,” Calum answers, picking up the ornaments you’ve already hooked. “I thought Mum would give up on bringing them out.”

“But I never have and never will,” she counters picking them up and proudly displaying them on the front of the tree.

Calum makes a show to wave his hands. “That.”

“You made them and I cannot not display them,” Joy laughs and takes the bulb you’ve prepped.

“I think it should be the star,” you tease.

“Do not give Mum any ideas,” Calum groans. “She needs zero ideas.”

“My dad would put mine near the star. I used to hate it too,” you offer.

“Because he was proud of them! See, it’s a parent thing,” Joy laughs, taking another ornament.

You don’t respond, giving a shrug. Maybe it’s a parent thing. And maybe it’s just a love thing, you think. Maybe putting your atrocious ornaments near the top was a way your dad was saying you were always near the top, he was always thinking of you first. When you blink the silver hooks blur for a moment and it hits you that you might be crying. So you blink again and the tears don’t completely clear.

Arms are around your shoulder and you think it’s Calum but as you turn into the embrace, you notice it’s Joy. “Hey, it’s okay,” she offers. She’s quick to scoot you over to the other end of the living room and hands you a tissue. “Do you want to keep on decorating? You can take a breather.”

“No, no, I’m okay.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Her hand runs a soothing line up and down your back. You can only nod. It takes another moment and a deep inhale before you find a resolve. Joy takes your spot hooking the ornaments and you hang one up on the branch. You’re not even sure if Calum and Mali noticed your quick time out, but they don’t seem to be visibly concerned. You finish the tree half an hour later--many ornaments had to rearranged after realizing the back hadn’t gotten nearly enough love. You snap a photo and you don’t think too much about sending it to your aunt and your grandmother, but you hover over your mom’s contact.

Would she think you’re betraying? Would she find some way to say that you could’ve been home decorating the tree too and that she could’ve used the help since Dad wasn’t around anymore? You don’t hit send. Instead you lock your phone, place it face down and ask Joy if she needs or wants any help cooking dinner. She waves you in happily, explaining the dish she’s preparing to you as you wash your hands. This is easy. This feels complete, listening to the sounds of the TV in the background. Knocks at the door don’t make your heart startle and you almost know, without looking, that it’s David. And he no doubts has an armful of things--food, drinks, and god knows what else.

“Do-do you mind me asking about your mom?” Joy brings up as you tend over your hot pan.

“I,” and all words have fallen from your brain. “I don’t know,” you answer. It sounds so stupid but it’s the truth. The whole truth. “I don’t know how I feel. I-I wouldn’t be upset, but there may or may not be a reason I’m hiding on the other side of the world.”

It’s a small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless that Joy gives. “You know, fair. It’s okay if you don’t know. Instead, we’ll knead dough,” she offers, “or whatever else we need to do.”

“I’ll take kneading dough.”

There’s a nod and a smile, an understanding that kneading dough is the best alternative. The sleeves to your hoodie start to slip down again and just before you can clear your hands from the flour to pull it up, two hands come from the side. Calum, you deduce. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Did Mum put you to work or did you volunteer?”

“Volunteered,” you answer and go back to kneading the dough. The fridge door opens and then closes a few seconds later.

“You’re a guest. You don’t have to you know?”

“I know. Just need to do something.”

“Besides not answering your mom’s texts.”

“Besides not answering my mom’s texts,” you agree. Calum reaches across the counter and grabs your phone. You gave him the passcode ages ago and shockingly he remembered it. “Gonna delete the embarrassing photos?” you tease. You already emailed yourself copies just in case you tried too.

“Nah, no need. You’d just find a way to get them again.” You watch him for just a moment open up the app and the picture of the tree is still loaded in. “Why didn’t you send this?”

“Because I didn’t want her bitchin’ to me about how I could’ve been doing that with my real family. I would rather decorate a tree with you and your family anyway. Just as real as anything else,” you huff out, pushing in a little harder into the dough.

Calum pauses for a moment, glancing over to you. He’s not even sure his ears actually heard what you are saying. “What?” he asks in an exhale.

“I’d rather spend legit any holiday with you.”

He stops you, a hand on your wrist. “Did-did you just admit that you’d spend any holiday with me and my family?”

“Do you want bread or not?” you ask and he releases your wrist. “But yes, I did admit it.” You look up from the dough, knowing you’ve worked well enough for you to be done. The Christmas tree twinkles from the corner and it’s nice to see a family together--there’s no arguments, no need to feel like you’re at arm’s length. The TV plays and it’s idealistic. It’s what you want, not the screaming that occurs on most holidays, no one too drunk off their ass, no one being kicked out.

“I like it here,” you admit softly. Christmas is about five days out and you still need to wrap Calum’s present. It’s currently hiding in your suitcase and you want to get something nice for his parents for hosting you, and you’re not entirely sure what to get Mali but you want to do something nice for her too. Calum doesn’t miss the way you stare, the longing in your gaze as you’re still knuckle deep in dough. “I could send the photos to Dad. He’d probably just send a thumbs up. But, still it would’ve been better.”

“Then send it to him.”

“Mom disconnected the line. I have no clue who has the number now.”

“Send it anyway. Whoever it is, probably wouldn’t mind.”

You shake your head and look down at the dough. It’s done and you place it back into the bowl. The idea is asinine to you. No stranger would be okay with getting a random text about a Christmas tree you decorated and whatever sob story you’d type out. Best not to bother a stranger. Even as Calum tries to urge you one last time, you don’t give in. You move about the kitchen as if you’ve always worked in and wash your hands. It doesn’t take you long before you settle onto the couch next to Mali.

I know this might be strange, Calum starts drafting. But my best friend lost their dad about two years ago and this is his old number (this is their number and they still has the number saved). I took them to see my family for Christmas since they and their mom and that side are in a rough spot. I say that like it hasn’t been years of a rough spot but they helped us decorate the tree. I don’t know who’s going to see this, if it’ll go through or not, but I’m hoping for a miracle, I guess, for kindness in the universe and kindness in a stranger. They just needs something good, so we hope you enjoy our Christmas tree. They told my mum about how their dad would put the homemade ornaments near the star. Needless to say my mum agreed with the idea. If you see this, and get the picture, I hope you have safe and happy holidays.

Calum doesn’t even think twice about hitting send on the message. He finishes pouring himself a glass of water and pour another one for you too. By the time he grabs a snack too your phone buzzes again. There’s a response from the number that once belonged to your dad.

Tree looks awesome, kid, reads the first message. And then another one follows it. Homemade decorations near the top are the only way to go. Hope your friend gets through the holidays safely, but with people like you in their life, we think they will. Happy Holidays and enjoy our tree too. A picture comes attached with it.

Calum leaves the response up. It works out perfectly that the first response sits directly under the picture Calum sent. The first part of the second text is still visible but he doesn’t worry about that. He taps on your shoulder. “The world’s not so bad after all,” he states.

It takes you a moment to realize who the message is under. And you know it’s not actually your dad. You know that line went cold months ago.Your dad didn’t call you kid too much else he was trying to annoy you. But it’s something about seeing a message from that number that makes your chest ache. For a split moment in time, he’s real again. A sob racks through your chest and you're quick to cover your mouth, aware that other people are around. “I should’ve told him so much more,” you gasp and another sob breaks the sentence up just a little at the end. But all you can do is stare at the response with blurry vision.

Calum wraps you into his arms, pulling you into his chest. “Hey, you can still tell him. Maybe not by texting this number but you can still tell him,” he whispers. And though you tremble against him, he manages to get you to the shelter of the stairs. You settle oddly on top of him, your legs draping over his and your cowered into his chest mostly. But you don’t object to the arrangement.

Joy places a box of tissues down next to you both and settles on the step just below Calum. Her hand is warm on your knee. “I thought you were kneading dough.”

You chuckle just a little but tremors still rock you. “Dough didn’t have a lot of resistance.”

She nods, tsking just a little. “Ah, next time I’ll have you knead two loaves.” Once she’s sure you’ve cried it all out, she leaves you be, though most of her comfort was soft reassurance and knee pats. But it’s just what you need.

Calum guides you upstairs and unearths his journal from his bag. Or at least a journal you think you’ve seen him writing in before. “I was going to give this to you on Christmas. But it sounds like you could use it now. Whatever you wanted to tell your dad, write it down. Pretend like your writing letters to him. I know know it might sound silly, but it helps me.”

The journal is leather, embossed on the front are your initials. It almost looks too expensive to even write in it, but when Calum hands you a pen you think you might explode again if you don’t get it off your chest. So you settle onto the edge of his bed, which is barely just enough space for two of you to sleep on during the night and tell your dad all the full truths. Everything you felt like he couldn’t take the grave, you spill onto the page.

Dad, It’s Christmas. Or it’s nearly Christmas. I’m in Australia with Calum and I’ve already had one emotional breakdown. So we need to reset the count on that one. It’s hard without you. Joy put Calum and Mali’s old homemade decorations near the star of the tree and all I wanted was to be six again and be up on your shoulders and have you force me to put my decorations up high on the tree for everyone to see. I used to hate it. When you did that. But now I miss it.

I miss a lot of things, I guess now. I miss being honest with you. I wasn’t very honest while you were dying. I was afraid that I told everything I’d be weak. That if I told you everything you’d take all the words with you when you died and I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else since it would’ve been one of the last things I told you. It all sounds silly now to write it down, but that’s what I thought.

Here’s the other half I never told you.

Calum lingers, sitting on the floor and finding one of his old guitars sitting on the floor tucked into a corner. He slides over, and places it into his lap before strumming mindlessly over it. The scratch of the pen is hardly audible as he strums but he can envision what it sounds like, see how fast you’re scribbling words down onto the page.

Later in the week, as you have Mali and Calum helping you find a gift to give their parents, you stop at one of the small shops in the mall. Mali’s wandered off to the far corner but Calum’s close next to you, glancing around the walls for something that looks remotely interesting and appropriate. The housewares all look too dated and Calum’s not even sure what his parents do and don’t have to even suggest something like this. But Mali thought it might be a good place to stop so the three of you stopped to look.

“Thanks,” you say to Calum, running a finger over a serving spoon. “For the journal. It helped a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” he beams at you. His attention is still filtering around the store. “I have no clue what to even suggest in a place like this for my parents. They’re not super into stuff like this.”

“You sure a Kiss The Cook apron wouldn’t do the trick?” you joke holding up the red and white apron.

“Hmm, afraid not,” he laughs. The two of you still wonder about the store and you find a couple cookbooks that seem interesting. One’s for cocktails and Calum says it’s a definite--his dad would enjoy flipping through it. Neither he or Mali had gotten one for him before, so it won’t be a duplicate.

“Your mom has a lot of photos you guys. You think she’d be into something like this?” you ask, pointing out to a few picture frames. They’re all collages, just arranged differently. Calum seems to be vaguely interested though Mali worries about the fact that she tends to keep them in a particular way.

“Could make one with the photos you’ve taken over this trip, she loves stuff like that and I’m sure she wishes she could get more photos of us now since we’re gone. We spend a day taking some photos in front of our old stomping grounds and I know she’d love it,” Calum offers looking over to Mali.

She shrugs. “That could work. Sure we can’t say it was from all of us?” she jokes.

“I wouldn’t mind, especially since you two would be doing some leg work in it,” you state.

“If we’re going to do it,” Mali counters. “Let’s go with this one.” She points to a wooden slab with rows of twine wrapped around and clasps that are wooden too where stock photos are currently pinned but it’s clear that you can add your own photos.

“This really blows my flowers out of the water,” Calum mutters, holding onto the paid for box of the wooden frame.

“You also got her the embroidered pillow,” you counter. The pillow has the coordinates of Sydney, LA, and London on it--for each of the cities they’re in respectively.

“True,” he nods. “But still,”

“If you don’t want--” you start but he cuts you off.

“Hey, no, I want to do this. Shush,” he laughs. “We gotta make another stop though. I’ve seen ads for those portable printers and can print photos and I don’t see either one of you with those old school polaroid cameras.”

“I’ll have you know,” Mali teases. But she interrupts her own joke as a ponderous hum falls from her. She rattles off a couple stores that could have it.

“Let’s give it a shot,” Calum returns. The first store is a bust but the second one has it. They grab one of the last ones off the shelf and scurry to the lines. They’re long and it’s no avoiding it two days from Christmas. The rest of the day, Mali navigates, pulling over into random parking lots and telling stories about their childhood.

You snap as many photos as you can. Some are more planned than others but it’s okay. You play with angles, flipping your phone upside to get some cool shots and you’re honestly impressed with the quality of just a cellphone camera. By the time it starts to get dusk, you’re half convinced your phone will alert you that you’re almost out of space. It’s not too hard to sneak the bags up to the bedrooms. You take up distracting Joy just a little as Calum and Mali book it up the steps.

“Oh, this reminds me,” Joy says standing right as Mali clears the first step. “If you need any sort of wrapping supplies they’re in here,” she directs you down the hall and you watch Calum and Mali clear into one of the bedrooms, you think it’s Mali’s before diverting your attention back to the wrapping paper.

“Thanks,” you nod at her. “I’ll be down in a few if you want help with dinner?”

“An extra pair of hands never hurt,” she counters with a grin and it’s become a tradition, or a thing at the very least that you help her with dinner and she’s given up on trying to shoo you out of the kitchen.

You take the stairs slowly, but you can feel the buzzing in your pocket. No doubt Calum bugging you relentlessly that you’re needed upstairs. You find them in Mali’s room situated on the floor as she removes the pictures from the frame and Calum seems to messing with the printer. “Thank you for joining us,” he teases. Music starts up and the door closes.

You settle on the floor next to him. “My job was to distract so that’s what I did. What do I need to do?”

“Pairs with BlueTooth, so I just gotta get this thing on.”

“Let me know when it’s up,” you return and then pull up the photos you took on your phone. Mali helps pick out which photos have to go onto the frame. It’s only a minute or two later that Calum tells you to make sure your phone has the BlueTooth turned on.

“You cannot use that,” he laughs, as the first photo prints out. “I look so dumb in that take.”

Mali laughs. “Oh, c’mon it’s a pretty shot.”

“Yeah of you,” he returns.

You swipe to the next photo and there are no photo blunders for either one of them so you print that one down. Some are in front of buildings that you’re not even sure could mean anything. A couple are of Calum’s old practice field for soccer--the same one from the photo you were looking at when Mali first arrived. There are a few of Mali in front of the place she sang to a large audience for the first time. There’s a picture of the Christmas tree as well--Mali and Calum are in the photo adding decorations to it. There’s one of you, in the middle of Calum and Mali, arms wrapped around each other. You’re laughing because even standing you nearly stumble just trying to shift your weight a little, but the picture is perfect as the sun just starts to step a little behind you.

With the last photo printed, you look over the arrangement and give your approval. “Did you remember to grab our wrapping paper?”

“Shit,” Calum sighs. “I’ll run to the car and grab it.” You nod and head back downstairs just in time to help Joy.

It’s late before another opening arrives for you three to place the gift under the tree and during this time you also add Calum’s and Mali’s gift to the bunch. You managed to snag some cool t’s with Calum’s help for her. She eyed them in your shopping adventure and carted them around the store before ultimately deciding to put them back. Calum stayed behind to grab them off the rack while you went with her to the next store.

Over mugs of hot chocolate--though the Australian heat doesn’t warrant it-- you, Mali and Calum sit on the floor in front of the tree. “It’s been nice to outnumber him,” Mali laughs.

“I’m already outnumbered with you and Mum,” he retorts.

“Yeah, but it’s Mum. She counts but like not really. Now you’re outnumbered by someone in our age range.”

Calum shakes his head. “If you say so. I’m glad Mum and Dad weren’t too weird about it.”

You know he hasn’t brought anyone home in a long time. And part of it is probably just time, but another part is deliberate but you don’t know why. “I’m sure they were starting to think I wasn’t real,” you joke.

“Haha,” Calum gently shoves your legs. “You’re a fucking comedian.” You snicker and take another sip from your mug. The night almost doesn’t feel like it’s slipping away as Mali and Calum take turns on the guitar. You climbed up onto the sofa at some point during the night, asbentedmindly playing in Calum’s hair. But somewhere in it the strumming, sleeps pulls you under, you felt your eyes blinking close but weren’t able to recall when the final blink took you full under.

You find yourself startled awake to the sounds coming from the kitchen. Mali’s asleep on the couch, facing the opposite away of you. Calum’s reclined against the sofa between the both of you but still sitting on the floor. There’s a faint light coming from behind you and you squint against it to see the kitchen light’s on. You settle back against the arm of the couch and let yourself fall into sleep a second time.

When you wake the second time, it’s to gentle shakes and you’re not even sure you had fallen asleep again. Until you find yourself stretching again and blinking back the light of the living room. Calum’s slumped to the floor. “No, five more minutes.”

Joy chuckles. “It’s your presents you’ve gotten open.”

“Hmm, maybe I’m awake enough for presents.” Presents are slow to be handed out, mostly to the three of you still trying to wake up. But Mali gets the first tear into the wrapping paper and beams over at you spying the two shirts.

Joy loves the pillow from Calum and the jacket from Mali. Calum gets a few things, most of them necessities but the socks are cool enough to put on immediately. Mali’s content with the clothes she’s received and the necklace. Calum thought about wrapping your journal as a joke but he hands you a tiny stocking stuffed with some candies, a cool pen, and some knicks knacks he found during some of the shopping adventures. David’s tickled as he flips through the cocktail recipes.

“What is this?” Joy laughs pulling on the wooden and twine picture frame ad she’s handed it.

“For you,” you answer. “A collective effort between the three of us.”

“But originally their idea,” Calum tacks on.

Joy looks at the three of you, unsure of what trick might be pulled. She unveils the first corner and pauses. “Seriously, what is this?”

“Just keep going Mum,” Mali counters.

Joy continues tearing at the wrapping paper and she gasps for a moment noticing the photos hanging from the pins. “No way,” she laughs, lifting it up to take a closer look at the photos. “No way,” she whispers.

“The pictures can be switched out, so you can frame some, or just rotate it based on the season,” you explain.

The tears collecting in Joy’s eyes don’t get past you but they do hurt just a little. In a good way. You hadn’t seen a teary eyed smile like Joy’s in such a long time you almost forgot how good it felt, but how much it hurt too.

“You did all this for me?” she asks.

“I had help,” you return. “But I wanted to do something or give you something nice for hosting me the past two weeks and agreeing to take on an extra mouth to feed. It’s a thank you.”

She gives you another one of those hugs that squeeze more than they should, more than thought possibly. You squeeze in return and though you feel a couple tears slip down your cheek, you aren’t so afraid of the emotion. It’s something like loved, maybe it’s understood. Quite possibly it’s just the feeling of being embraced without judgement or restriction. You’re not really sure, but you do know you like it.

“Thank you,” Joy whispers while still hugging you. She makes space for the frame almost immediately though it takes a little rearranging of the living room but she finds the space. You’re sucking on a piece of candy, looking down at your phone. You know your mother is still living in Christmas Eve and the only message she’s gotten from you are about you being safe and okay.

I would send this as an actual letter, but I worry from Australia to home would take too much time. So I guess this works as next best. I can only hope you understand.

The easy things: Australia’s been fun. Haven’t run into a spider as big as my head just yet but there’s still plenty of time. Calum’s family has been amazing. I helped with Christmas decorations. Joy and I are cooking buddies. If I never had to leave, I probably wouldn’t.

And on and on you go about the tails of this particular vacation before getting to the hard stuff, how it’s hard sometimes to be home because home feels empty and too far away and how it’s hard sometimes to feel like you fit in the puzzle of it all. You tell her how hurt you are seeing how her side paid the death of your father dust. How nothing’s felt right once and you don’t know what caused it. You don’t know how it started but all you do know is that when dad was around, when you and him had those quiet moments it was closest to right you had every experience until now--sitting in your friend’s childhood home in a whole different country, more than half the day ahead of your own family and watching someone else’s world that you know you’re not really apart of but somehow you fit even as a stranger.

There’s that nagging voice in the back of your head that tells you this could all go to shit. Your mother could read all this and blow her top. But at least she would blow her top knowing the truth and the whole truth at that--that you love your family for being your family but recognizing the detriment happening.

I need you to know Mom. Because Dad didn’t. Or maybe he did, but I know I wasn’t the one that told him. So I am telling you. You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to like any of this and I’m not asking you or telling you you have to. But you have to know the truth and I have to tell you.

Before I go, there’s a present for you. Hidden in the top box of Dad’s stuff in your closet. It’s only tiny pieces of me and him, of us, but I hope you enjoy it. I hope it provides comfort.

While you’re not the most crafty, you know your way around a sewing machine. You didn't keep nearly as many t-shirts from family vacations as you would’ve liked to, hanks to a couple moves. But you kept enough and you snagged a few of your dad’s t-shirts and some of his old flannels too. All together it made a decent sized blanket--it could’ve been larger but there were a few failed starts before you got the true hang of it.

You’re not sure the whole message will send correctly and you think maybe it should’ve been an email, but that feels even less personal. So you watch the message lift up, hover for just a moment before it settles down and just beneath it, Delivered, pops up. Immediately, you place your phone face down. A watched pot never boiled and a watched text is never actually read.

“Calum!” Mali laughs. Just behind you they go barreling past, through the living room and he tries to make an escape up the steps but she manages to lunge fast enough to take hold of the back of his t-shirt. “Drop the cookies and no one has to get hurt.”

“Never!” he cries in return. His attempts are half hearted and you can only giggle watching them. That in turn earns you target as a potential accomplice and he calls out to you to get you to take the cookies and make an escape.

You walk over, take the packet of cookies. They’re decorated for Christmas and you decide take one off the top is fair pay for whatever mess you’re stepping into. After your take the first bite of your cookie, you hand the packet over to Mali who happily release Calum to snag a couple. “Traitor,” Calum returns, but takes another cookie too.

“I got my pay,” you laugh, polishing off the one cookie in your hand.

David enters then, taking another cookie too. “I got mine too,” he laughs before disappearing again back down the hallway. There are a few things around the house he needed to repair and Calum had been helping him though you suspect more than helping, Calum was sneaking cookies and trying to hide them from Mali. You offered to help too, but David insisted that you actually take a rest at least once during this time away.

You manage to catch the buzz over all the laughter. You don’t think your mother could’ve responded that fast. It’s not possible. But you slip away from the group and grab your phone from the couch cushions. Your heart hammers against your ribs, you can feel the vein in your neck throbbing.

Thank you for the blanket. It’s quite lovely. Glad you’re enjoying Australia. I don’t know if I can say sorry and have it mean much. But in turn, thank you for telling me the truth. Somehow you expected this to be much more emotional, much more earth shattering. But tides don’t change in the blink of an eye and cities don’t build themselves in a day.

“We should have a board game night,” Mali suggests from behind you. “Dunno know. Not much will be open up for long.”

“I’ll kick your ass in Scrabble,” Calum returns, “Anytime.”

And just behind is all you’ve ever really wanted. But just in front of you is all you’ve ever had, your mother and the distance. Maybe it’s not a matter of what you deserve or what is actually yours by blood. Maybe it’s just time to admit that family is also chosen. And you did all you could with your mother. You told her the truth.

A tear splashes onto your screen and you wipe at your eyes quickly. When had those formed? They didn’t even sting that time or maybe they did and you just hadn’t felt it. You’re not sure. Her message doesn’t warrant a response. Though you do imagine for a moment, her curled up on the couch, your blanket across her lap as she snacks on pistachios and the fireplace blazes next to her. The TV is playing Polar Express, her favorite Christmas film. And if the scene is sad, your mother is sad. And if the scene is happy, your mother is happy. And you like it better that she is tethered to the film’s emotions rather than anything going on outside of it.

“You down for a board game night? If not, we can find something else.” Calum’s voice is close and you can feel just how close is he off to the side of you.

“I’m down for a board game night,” you nod. Your voice quivers just a little. Crying is exhausting and you’d wish you had nothing left, but there is always the dregs left. Just enough to make your cheeks wet.

“You good? What’s up?”

“Told my mom,” you answer truthfully.

He figures it didn’t go super well given your silence. “We can watch movies in my room then.”

“She didn’t threaten to blow up the country so I think we’re good,” you continue on. “But she loves her Christmas present. So I’ll take it as a win.”

“It’s the small victories.”

You nod, looking at the photos hanging right next to the Christmas tree. “Like kicking your ass in Scrabble,” you laugh. “I’m on Mali’s team.”

“Fighting words, those are fighting words. I brought you out here and you already turned over my cookie stash. Now you’re going against me in Scrabble! Really?”

“I’ve chosen you over and over,” you admit quietly. You’ve chosen him as a friend, and confidante and you appreciate him for being there. But you don’t say all that, instead you counter with, “But I think sometimes I should kick your ass in a game of Scrabble or too.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” he returns with a laugh.

“I am,” you state simply. “I am lucky.”

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hollyhomburg · 3 years

Note

noooo dont stop there lmfao who slept with the m/c first in the royal guard au? how did the others even touch on the subject of like, hey yall wanna bang? also is there angst/pining if jk is in love with namjoon but namjoon is in love with hoseok?

(this is really unedited) hmmmmmmm i think that it might have been like- Seokjin and the reader who first started to get sexually involved. since he was like the oldest one he probably felt more than a little conflicted about it. maybe during their etiquette lessons or just before, when she likes- forgets they’re supposed to have one and he walks in on her pleasuring herself.

and he knows it’s wrong- knows he could get killed for looking at the future queen like this but. “show me how to be good Seokjin- I don't want my wedding night to be my first time- I don't want him to be my first time, I want to know what it's supposed to feel like when someone cares about me” and Seokjin- Seokjin might not love you yet- but he definitely understands your desperation. hell- Seokjin is in love with 6 other people and he’s just desperate for them to all get along most days. Seokjin is definitely the one whose the most poly out of all of them.

so he shows her how it’s supposed to happen, and they both cum but no penetration happens (because Seokjin’s still a proper man down to his core), and then after I think she realizes like “fuck- I love sex? sex actually feels really good?” and she starts to slowly explore other things. Decides she actually does want to lose her virginity, not to her husband and probably has kind of a mutual virginity loss moment with Hoseok. Who regrets it a little afterward.

Only because he’s not really sure that he should have- worried that he pressured her or something and only after they talk about it do they both realize that yeah- they both wanted it and there isn’t a problem with what they did as long as her fiance Doesn't find out. and honestly, the king is often visiting his cities and out on hunting trips (where he often kills more people than game). he’s so rarely at the castle and Hoseok is more than happy to help you explore your sexuality when it mutually benefits him.

I think that Hoseok used to be a child Theif- and he had a certain amount of years that he needs to serve to not become a fugitive. and he only has a few more years before he gets his freedom. no matter the kind of bullshit that Namjoon totes about wanting to serve the crown and stay together- no. Hoseok just wants his freedom back. i think maybe namjoon confessed to hoseok recently- and hoseok didn’t take it well. before that hoseok would always try to convince namjoon to run away with him and namjoon would always try to convince hoseok to stay but the fact that namjoon’s in love with him- would feel alot like betrayl to hoseok because namjoon hadn’t been honest.

then he realizes- even after you get married- if you still want him the same way you do now he might have it in him to be something of a courtesan if he so desired. Not that the king would like that very much- it might be beneficial to him to be in your favor in the courts. maybe he could make a name for himself.

of course, he eventually grows to love you- but it complicates his whole situation with Namjoon. because Namjoon’s been in love with him since they where children and while they all fool around (because they all have sex drives and urges that need to be fufilled and long since had the agreemend of helping each other out) making ties isn’t apart of the plan. i picture namojoon peppering kisses and “im sorry’s” down hoseoks chest one night and hoseok kind of melting.

but slowly- when Hoseok starts to see the way you look at each other- when Namjoon’s hand touches yours he starts to get jealous and he’s not sure who of- he finds himself going harder with Namjoon at night, and then fucking you equally as hard and passionately with you in the morning. even when he and Jungkook fool around, trading mouths and hands in a way that seasoned lovers only do.

maybe thats a bit of an i’m sorry in its self- jungkook knows it’s not hoseoks fault- hoseok is beautiful and charming and like sunshine- anyone could fall in love with him. jungook gets why namjoon loves him- he really does- hoseok’s so easy to love. and the affection in jungkook’s eyes weighs on hoseok. he’s not used to strings keeping him places but something in all of you keeps him here. there is somethings squirming under hoseok’s skin and he doesn't realize it until one evening when you talk with Seokjin, Hoseok standing at the door.

“he’s coming home tomorrow night to help with the wedding, I guess we’ll have to postpone our usual etiquette lesson as he’s already written he’s coming to my chambers that night” and Hoseok- Hoseok is just enraged- sitting by the door- at the thought of your husband touching you the way the 7 of them do- enraged at all of it being outside of his control and suddenly- hoseok gets it. he dosent want you to marry your husband. he doesn't want you to have to go through any of it. he wants to preserve the balance you’re starting to have. he’s in love with you and he’s staying- he’ll see this through.

i think the sex with the others kind of starts in a different way, more of a sensual way. maybe one day they go for a horseback ride and she convinces them to swim in a secluded part of the river and though she keeps her underdress on they can still see all of her body through the thin fabric. and tae wishes for once that he wasn’t so obviously large. because he’s Poking out of his pants and he knows you see his errection, jimin licking his lips as he looks at it across the stream. cocking his eyebrows at him in question.

you catch him staring. and i think maybe you tease all like “are you alright officer Taehyung? your uniform looks hot in this heat- are you sure you don’t want to cool off with me?” and he does- even under the watchful eyes of the others. and it's only because it’s Jimin and Seokjin that they watch- that tae feels brazen enough to touch you, finding your wetness under the water and pressing with the pads of his rough fingers in a way that he knows feels good. the same way he fingered jimin open this morning, a look says that seokjin and jimin are staring and squirming. E

specially at the way you’re touching tae- the water warm in the summer heat and so slick against his skin. And though jimin and tae are lovers- there isn’t any mistaking the looks in their eyes. jimin and seokjin want to ravage you and then each other.

on the way home, you ride in between jimin’s legs on his horse because you’re a little wobbly-legged after taking taehyung (the largest out of all of them- a true big dick) and jimin just wants to run his nose along your shoulder- leaving little kisses that make you jump. little whispers in your ear “you looked so pretty together- makes me want to put on a show just like you did for Seokjin” a sharp look at seokjin says that he told- and honestly you’re not suprised. it’s no secret that they’re all involved.

and maybe jimin’s hand slowly comes down between her legs a little, rubbing slow teasing circles through her clothes to tease her. enough that by the time she’s getting off the horse she’s stumbling into Jungkook’s chest by the stables. “come kookie- our lady is tired and must return to her rooms” no one bothers to mention that Jimin’s shift is over.

i think the last one to bed the reader is yoongi- probably soon after her wedding and the first time she and him are alone together without any of the others. yoongi is particularly reserved and i picture him kissing the Backs of her hands and then each of her fingers in the candlelight and slowly grabbing at the ribbons on her dress. and he’s angry- angry that he couldn’t taste her before the king had a chance. though he’s gone away and left her here again. left her to be lonely and left her all for them. and yoongi won’t miss his chance this time.

“its time for you to get ready for bed my queen- let me help you” and he undresses her so so slowly and carefully and then sits her back and slowly enters her. treats her like a husband should on her wedding night, gentle and at her pace. so loving and slow and full of needy breaths and aching touches. thats the first time it’s making love with any of you- because yoongi loved her right from the begining.

i imagine him kissing down her stomach murmuring against her skin “he dosent deserve you”

“the king or the others?”

“both- neither- no one”

her gripping his hair, “what about you then?”

and yoongi means it when he looks up at her “least of all me” but thats something that she can fix. the way he dosent feel deserving of it all or any of it at all. ive got like- maybe a whole idea for yoongi’s chareter arc in this.

#Anonymous

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spunkpunx · 3 years

Text

Are Friends Electric? (Alex Turner)

Multi Part Series

Part 1: Dreamy Days

Sheffield 2002

"Is that a fookin' United shirt?"

"Yeah, so what? It's not mine, you know I support Owls."

"Am honestly disappointed in you, consortin' with the enemy an' that," Alex shook his head, refusing to look at the offending football shirt that I'd been forced into wearing.

"It was in lost property, an' you know what the PE teachers are like, they threatened to suspend me, Mam would kill me if they did," I replied, rubbing her legs in an attempt to warm them.

"Only 'cause you've been suspended before."

"Yeah well I don't want to do it again, she'd have me bloody guts for garters," I told him. He rolled his eyes. We were sat on an old bench around the back of the school, dressed in PE kits and smoking B&H cigarettes I had stolen off my mother. My football shorts were no match for the harsh January weather, but I was wearing a parka, hence why Alex had only just noticed the Sheffield United t-shirt. We couldn't leave school grounds yet, because in order to get out from behind we'd would have to go past the French classroom, and as the bell hadn't yet gone, there would still be Miss Kelly and a class of year 7s ready to catch us out.

"I'm fookin' freezing," Alex whined, putting out his fag on the wall and dropping it onto the floor. "At least you've got that bloody big coat."

I sighed and flicked my cigarette butt onto the floor, stomping it out with the toe of my trainer. "If we go over the wall you know you have to give me a leg up," I explained bluntly. He nodded along almost eagerly, likely desperate to get out the cold and home as soon as possible.

"I don't mind Jack, I just wanna leave."

"Right then," I replied, standing up, picking up my bag and putting a foot into a crack in the stone, grabbing the top edge where my fingers could just about catch grip on the rough stone. Alex came up behind me and put his hands on my shin, and using his hands to push against, I pulled herself up. Unfortunately, my foot slipped, and I began to fall back down, but my fall was stopped by the feeling of hands holding me up. Alex's hands, on my bum.

I felt my ears burning red, but not willing to have to try again, I pulled herself up using my arms and jumped down the other side. As soon as my feet touched the ground I climbed on top of the large wheelie bin that sat against the wall and grabbed Alex's arm as he clambered over as well. He was a lot taller than me now, he'd grown in a way only 15 year old boys do, all long limbs and clumsiness. I'd barely even noticed him shoot up. I helped him over and we jumped into the street below.

"Um... I'm sorry that I touched your..." Alex stuttered slightly, his cheeks going uncharacteristically red. I cut him off.

"Al, it's fine."

"I mean I-"

"It's fine," I repeated, more firmly. He shrugged and pushed his hands into his pockets, beginning to walk down the alley toward the road. I followed him, jogging slightly to catch up with his long strides.

"Am gonna join a band you know," he told me as we turned the corner onto the street. I looked at him in surprise.

"A band? Who wiv?" I questioned, confused.

"Matt."

"Matt Helders or Matt Sheppard?"

"Matt Helders of course! Av'e never even spoke to Matt Sheppard why on earth would I be talking about 'im?"

"Well I dunno do I? I didn't even know Matt Helders played an instrument, he's not singing is he?" I queried, scuffing my shoes along the floor.

Alex shook his head slightly. "He plays drums, I'm the singer."

"But you play guitar?" I could sense my brain was really struggling to keep up.

"I can do both, like Bowie."

"Don't compare yourself t'Bowie unless you go to your gigs dressed in a catsuit an' heels an' bat away crowds of lads and lasses who want to sleep with ya."

"I'm not against the crowds of lasses, but I don't think I could commit to the rest," he laughed cheekily. I gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.

"You're full of shit, you are," I grinned, as he rubbed his arm over-dramatically. Cars whizzed past as we reached the main road. Cars that caused slight rushes of air as the pair of us continued to walk, that's how close they drove past the pavement. "Mine or yours?" I asked him.

"Yours, yer mam won't be back from work yet."

"Fairs."

A silence lulled in the conversation as we continued to walk down the street, Alex was scuffing his trainers along the floor. It was annoying as fuck but I didn't say owt.

"Did you hear what Rory Pike did today at lunch?"

"No?"

"He got his cock out on the school field," Alex divulged me, a laugh spread across his face. I couldn't help but join in the joke.

"Rory Pike is a world class minger," I told him, and soon we were both in stitches, adding extra gross details to the story to the amusement of each other.

"Did Cook finally ask tha' girl out then?" I changed the subject, catching my breath back from my laughing fit.

"'Course not, he jibbed again, then Simmo asked her instead," Alex explained.

"Simmo? Did she say yes?"

"Why would she? She clearly fancies Jamie."

"He needs to get his act together and ask her."

Alex nodded, momentarily in thought. He then very suddenly turned around and gave me a playful shove.

"First one to yours!" he exclaimed, quickly speeding off around the corner.

"Bastard," I muttered, beginning to run after him. I sprinted to catch up, but the awkward coat prevented me from getting anywhere near the speed his long limbs could get him. He legged it off and I was forced to slow my pace back down to a walk. The boy was clearly going to win and I had the house key so he'd have to wait outside for me anyway. I decided to take me time knowing I'd probably bump into Alex around the corner when he came back to see where I was. He'd probably be a bit moody about it, telling me off for being a fun sponge, and I'd apologise insincerely and then he'd give me an awkward side hug and tell me he couldn't stay angry at me, there's no way I'd let him. Then we would probably walk back to mine and be done with the matter.

This wasn't the case. I got round the corner, then the one after that, and didn't see any sign of Alex. There was no way he would still be running, he was too lazy and he would look like an idiot, racing against no one. He was a dafty but not that much of one. I began to get confused after I rounded the third corner and there was still not a sign of him.

"Oi Jackie!" Alex exclaimed, grabbing my shoulders from behind. I yelped in surprise and he burst out laughing.

"Fook you Alex Turner," I scolded him. "How did ya even get behind me?" He said nothing, and just tapped his nose conspiratorially.

Sheffield 2003

He knew everything there was to know about Jackie. He knew her favourite colour (red),her middle name (Arabella), her handwriting and everything else in between. Alex had known this for ages, but it had never weighed on his mind as much as it had recently.

It was the way he'd seen her the other night. There was a small gaff at someone or another's and Alex had gone with the boys. Jackie had showed up a bit later, dressed very differently to how he normally saw her. She had a leopard print mini skirt on and a tight, cropped t-shirt, along with her trainers and Adidas jacket. Of course he noticed her, lighting one of her L&B blues and trying to smoke it subtly; she was the only one smoking.

He had gone over and said hello, and she'd grinned when she saw him, glad of some company, he expected. Some 90s rave hit was playing, and cheesy lights flashed across the room. Trying too hard, he thought. She picked a beer off the counter she was leaning on and gave it to him. A Corona, lukewarm but still alcohol.

"D'ya wanna come for a spliff?" she asked him, patting her pocket, and he said yes. Her top was very tight, although he tried not to look, but he saw her bra, visible through the fabric. They went outside onto some kind of shitty balcony. She got what looked to be a large gram of weed and some Rizlas out, making an L and then ripping open a cigarette to get the tobacco out, she carefully sprinkled in some of the spliff and rolled. Alex didn't say anything, he just watched as she deftly rolled the joint. She lit the end and took her time, sitting down on a breeze block. He found himself a seat on the step.

"So how's t'band going, Arctic Monkeys i'nt it?"

"There's a gig coming up, at The Grapes," Alex told her, proudly. In fact, he puffed up slightly with pride. Jackie had never really got involved with the band, she said it weren't her business, but Alex still felt remarkably pleased whenever she showed an interest, especially if they were doing well.

"D'ya want me to come?"

"'Course! I thought you already were."

"Yeah I just... weren't sure, that's all," Jackie responded, unusually quiet. She was acting off with him.

"Is summit up?" Alex asked. She shrugged, taking another drag on her spliff and then handing it to him. "Jack?" he prompted further.

"It's nothing Al, jus' summit stupid," she replied. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. He decided to leave it, pushing her wouldn't make her tell him, it would just annoy her. He took a toke of the joint and they sat in silence for a moment.

"Wanna find some White Lightning and get hammered?" she asked and Alex grinned.

"Are you sure? That stuffs pretty lethal."

"Well fook it all we're not going home tonight," she replied, laughing slightly. Alex nodded, smiling, then passed her the spliff back. It was a still and cold night. Jackie let the smoke seep out her mouth and inhaled it through her nose.

They finished the spliff and went back inside. Alex found the rest of his mates and together they all got steaming. Simmo was acting strangely all night. Then Jackie started acting strange too. She was all quiet and snappy.

"Why were you being such a mardy bum yesterday," he asked her the next day. They were lounging about on the sofa at his, nursing two horrible headaches. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Not now Alex, I'm too hungover for this," she answered, misery clear in her voice.

"Just tell me and I'll stop naggin'" he told her, shuffling a bit closer so she couldn't turn over and ignore him.

"Your mate Simmo," she replied simply.

"What'dya mean? Look, I know the joke was a bit insensitive but tha's just what 'e's like," Alex began to explain, for some reason unknown to him, in Simmo's defence.

"It's not tha' you bloody great nit, he kissed me."

Alex couldn't explain why that came like a twist in the gut, but it did nonetheless. It made him stumble for his words for a moment.

"Oh," was all he managed to get out. "Did you kiss him back?"

"Of course not, he's funny, but a bit gross," Jackie replied, pulling a face, and Alex laughed. A strange sense of relief was felt somewhere in his system, although nowhere near enough to dull the queasy thud of his hangover. "'Sides, Chris asked me out the other day."

"Who the fook is Chris?"

"Chris Maher, from the garage."

"Him? You've lost your mind Jackie, he works at fookin' MotorWorld."

"He's funny! And he knows loads about cars, plus he can drive," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"Why does it matter 'e can drive?"

"So I can get places, obviously," she responded dryly.

"I've almost passed me test!"

"Al, you're not even close to passing, I spoke to yer Dad an' he says you drive like you're drunk. 'Sides, I wouldn't want to get on your nerves, always cadgin' a lift." she explained, to Alex's disappointment.

"I didn't expect your type to be a guy who walks around in trackies, how desperate are ya?" Alex jabbed, a little cruelly. Jackie shot him a scathing look.

"Alexander, what is up with you? You were fine last night, an' now you're acting like I'm makin' you suck bloody lemons," she reprimanded him. She was trying to draw him into an argument, he could tell. He wasn't about to start a fight.

"Oh, it duen't matter," he said offhandedly, hoping to diffuse the issue, which seemed to work.

"He's actually a really lovely guy," Jackie added after a long pause.

"Ay, I'm sure he is," Alex replied halfheartedly.

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner x reader #alex turner one shot #multi part fic #early 2000s #alex turner x oc

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meat--grindr · 3 years

Note

another trans man fixated on Martin here!! 💕

could i request some NSFW of an ftm S/O teasing Martin while hes on the phone trying to do another interview as The Count? not a lot of talking from the S/O while hes on the phone, mostly physical stuff & feeling him up thru his clothes. the rest is up to you >:)))

(def going to use as a drawing prompt im just so so embarrassed to request off anon 😔😔😔)

Alright, so, this prompt has been living in my head rent-free ever since I first read it and I am so freaking excited to finally get to it. I’m sorry it took so long. I will admit this was a bit of a challenge for me because I am notoriously bad at writing dialogue. But I feel like it was good practice. Sorry if it sounds a little stilted in spots, I’m still learning.

Please, please, please link me to that art if you ever get around to it! You knocked it out of the park with this prompt and I’d love to give the art some love if you’re comfortable with sharing!

The Count Didn’t Count on This – Martin Mathias (Trans-Masculine Reader) – NSFW.

· It’s late, and for once, you’re exactly where you feel you should be at this late hour—not sprawled across a chair reading, or gazing out of the window, watching the cars pass and counting the neighbours’ lights as they flick on and off in lieu of stargazing. And for the first time in at least a week, you’re not trapped at your desk, frantically typing the final draft of a paper, hindered by the slow keys of a typewriter that does not care a whit about the deadline steadily hurtling toward you. No, thankfully, this night has brought with it far more comfortable circumstances—you find yourself in bed, tired bones sinking into the plush mattress, consciousness caught in the bleary space between sleep and not.

· Even better, you aren’t alone.

· Tonight, your bed is warmed by another body, long and thin, curled tightly against your own, as though it were some sort of crime to leave even an inch of space between you. A bony hip digs into your thigh and you’re sure the press of your head and shoulder against his chest must make breathing difficult for him. But he’s made no attempt to shrug you off or shift your weight to a more comfortable spot, so you likewise let it be. In all honesty, you’re simply too comfortable to bother and you feel it’s safe to assume the same is true for Martin too.

· The slow, even beat of his heart pulses against your cheek, and his long fingers stroke absently over your bare shoulder. The rough texture of burgeoning callouses catches against your skin—the sensation, though not wholly unpleasant, makes you shudder. Sometimes, you forget Martin works with his hands. When you hold them, they seem so delicate—his long fingers better suited to playing the piano than tightening screws or hammering nails. But he’s good at repairs and more importantly, he seems to find enjoyment the work. It certainly keeps him busy enough on the few afternoons that Cuda isn’t running him ragged in the shop, much to your personal dismay. But his nights—the nights like this—belong to you and you alone.

· Your eyelids flutter closed, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe even longer, you feel like you can rest. Really rest. Dimly, you find yourself wondering if it had more to do with finished papers and diminished responsibilities, or the reintroduction of the physical intimacy you’ve been missing so dearly. Though you can’t say for certain, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter.

· The longer you know Martin, the more you’re convinced that there is a preternatural bubble of calm that hangs around him. You can feel it in the way even the grouchiest old women in the store seem to soften toward him—hiding small smiles behind their sleeves, sometimes even calling him ‘dear,’ or in the way Cuda’s volatile temper deflates when his cruel words slide off Martin’s back as though he’s heard it all before from people who frightened him far greater. You’ve seen it at work on the feral cats that roam the neighbourhood—while they hiss and swipe at the children who chase them through the dusty streets, they sit willingly at Martin’s feet, rubbing against his legs with a familiarity that borders on friendly. And it’s in the way he looks at you—looks into you with those dark eyes that seem far too old for that handsome, youthful face—intense and all-seeing, but never judgemental. He is a point of unflappable calm in a world which never seems to slow for even a second. That calm has settled into you now, seeping into your bones as you lay there, listening to his heart thumping in the darkness.

· The low crackle of the radio hovers at the edge of your hearing, a burst of static cutting through the droning voices. You’d stopped listening properly ages ago—the third time the DJ had made an attempt to dismiss his latest caller. It was an old man who was seven shades of pissed about the ‘teen-age hooligans’ who were ‘tipping over his bins every night and eating his trash.’ Of course, everyone with half a brain, including the host himself, knows it’s an animal—probably a raccoon, or a family of raccoons, but this old geezer has somehow convinced himself it’s a gaggle of ‘Satan-worshipping teenagers who have been brainwashed by heavy metal music and Pepsi Cola.’

· Okay. Sure.

· It’s utterly ridiculous, and just the sort of thing you’ve come to expect from the people who live in Braddock. Or the ones who call in to a show like this anyhow.

· In a way, you feel bad for the poor DJ. Sure, he welcomes strange callers of all kinds, from alien abductees and bigfoot hunters to bereaved parents who teenagers are ‘just growing up too fast,’ or ‘a little too interested in the works of William Shakespeare.’ He even encourages them at times, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and in your mind, this, funny as it may be, is probably it. You’re sure whatever the station is paying the guy, it isn’t enough to suffer through being called a ‘brainless sack of human garbage’ by a crazy old man.

· “And that’s about all the time we have,” Despite his cheery tone, the poor guy sounds exhausted. “Thank you for calling!”

· Another burst of static drowns out the old man’s reply, but you’re sure that whatever he’d said, it was not ‘radio-friendly.’

· “…our next caller. You are on the air, Sir!”

· “Yeah, uh…hi, Barry.” The man sounds young—probably not much older than yourself—and very nervous. He must be a first-time caller. As he and the DJ share opening pleasantries—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you calling in from tonight, is that a cat I hear in the background? —your attention begins to drift again. You teeter for a moment on the edge of sleep, the clean scent of your linen sheets and Martin’s shampoo filling your nose.

· “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from the Count again since last time?”

· And just like that, you’re awake again, attention fully focused on your radio and the funny little show that whispers through it.

· The caller is asking about Martin. A cold shiver rumbles through your body. People ask about Martin on the show all the time—of course, they don’t know that’s who they’re asking about, but you do. It’s so strange, to hear a stranger talk about someone you know so well—even worse when they speak about him like they know him too. Sometimes, they make you laugh with their outlandish theories, but sometimes they make you sick—sick with worry: when he’s threatened with violence or exposure, sick with fear: when they make guesses that hit a little too close to home, and sick with jealousy: when they claim to have had an ‘encounter’ with him, or worse, try to set one up on air.

· You know about Martin, of course—that he is a vampire, or at least he thinks he’s a vampire. Whether or not you believe him is another question entirely. He certainly does not abide by the ‘vampire rules’ as you know them from stories and television—he doesn’t sleep in a coffin, filled with dirt from his homeland or otherwise, rather he sleeps in a bed (curled up beside you more often than not these days). He cuts a handsome figure in mirrors and the photographs that you have pinned up above your desk. He walks about in the sun most days without complaint despite his pale complexion, and though he may not be a sleek. Predatory creature that oozes confidence, grace, and sex appeal, he’s no slouch either—lithe and handsome in a boyish sort of way, all knees, elbows, and wide dark eyes.

· In fact, the only requirement he seems to meet on the proverbial ‘vampire checklist’ is his fixation with blood—and the need to consume it. Maybe that means something, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve come to the conclusion that what you think really doesn’t matter in the end—your opinion isn’t going to sway him on the subject one way or another. This is a truth about himself he believes perhaps more deeply than anything else. Who were you to try and change that?

· So, you do your best to take everything in stride, and when you can’t, you humour him. Still, every once in a while, something will trip you up—you still can’t quite decide if he’s joking about being over eighty years old or not. But you do your best. You had even let him feed on you once. Though only once. In the end, it was Martin who had decided the experience was not one he would like to repeat.

· He had laid you out on your bed, “I don’t want you to get hurt if you faint.” Though you’d told him nearly a hundred times that you’d be just fine, that you’d had blood taken before at the hospital, he had insisted.

· You had expected things to be different. For a start, you had expected him to climb into your lap, to press his lips against your neck, seeking your pulse the way it’s done in the movies. Instead, he’d taken out a little white kit from his bag. He had unzipped it and laid it out on the bed, revealing a little bottle of clear liquid, a row of sterile, hypodermic needles, and a pack of fresh razor blades.

· His long fingers fell upon the needles, caressing them lovingly one by one. Much to your relief, he did not pick one up. As if he could sense your apprehension, he’d said, “Don’t worry, I won’t need these.” He’d glanced up at you, measuring your reaction, “I won’t need them because you’re not going to fight me. Are you?” It wasn’t really a question. You shook your head, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “Good. It’s so much easier when they don’t fight me.” Those words had made you shudder. He really had done this before, then. Part of you hadn’t believed him—he seemed so…harmless

· He’d picked out a single blade from the package, meticulously removing the white paper wrapping, taking extra care not to tear it, or let the blade cut into it. When he was through, he folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it onto the comforter. He lay the blade flat on his palm for you to see. “I don’t have pointy teeth, you see.” He took your hand, opening his mouth and guiding your fingers along the edges of his flat, dull teeth. “They aren’t sharp, so they don’t cut deep enough. You understand?” You’d nodded and he had kissed your fingertips gently, one by one.

· “I’ll be careful, I promise,” He’d said, “I’ll only take a little. Just enough to take the edge off.” Despite the hungry glint in his eyes, you’d known he was telling the truth. He didn’t need to reassure you of that. You trusted him. Besides, you had asked for this. At least, he’d stopped asking if he still had your permission every five minutes. Of course he did.

· And yet. Your heartbeat had kicked up, jittering like a frightened bird when you’d seen the needles and the razor. It was as though actually seeing them had made the whole situation feel more real. There was no denying you were afraid, but you didn’t tell him to stop—you didn’t want to. You had made up your mind. You wanted this; wanted to help.

· He’d held your hand in his own like it was a thing made of glass. His fingers gripped the razor with a practiced grace as he held it just above your palm. Watching him, you were struck for the second time by just how rehearsed this seemed. How many times had he done this, with or without permission?

· “Take a deep breath for me, okay? There’s a good boy.” Did he talk to the others too? Even the ones who fought back? You could picture him, chattering softly against the skin of some poor soul, sprawled limp across the floor.

· Limp or lifeless?

· The thought unsettled you, but you did as you were told, filling your lungs nearly to capacity as the sharp edge of the blade bit into the meat of your palm just below your thumb. As promised, he had been quick, pressing only as hard as was necessary. Even so, the sting of it made your flinch, your hand jumping in his own. His fingers tensed around yours, the tightness of his grip reflected in the grimace that flashed across his face as he bent his head to seal his lips around the wound.

· You had expected to feel him pulling the blood from you, but he simply let it flow into his mouth, the coppery taste heavy on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, long and low—a pleased sound. Something about that set you more at ease. He hadn’t recoiled or wrinkled his nose at the taste of your blood. You hadn’t even realized you were worried about how you tasted until that moment.

· You had started to feel dizzy beneath him—dizzy not from a loss of blood, but the wet heat of his mouth against your skin. Your heart had stuttered in your chest as his tongue probed gently around the edges of the wound, soothing your sparking nerves, even as the blood continued to drip down his throat.

· When at last, he pulled away, his face was flushed, and his breath came hard; his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. Immediately, his hand shot to his front pocket, fingers searching for the roll of gauze bandages he’s swiped from Cuda’s first-aid kit.

· He’d wrapped the clean white fabric around your hand with such care it made your heart ache almost as much as the wound itself. When he was finished, he’d flipped your hand over and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. Then, he spoke. His voice was small, barely more than a ragged whisper, “Thank you.”

· “Was that…was it okay?” Your skin felt feverish, as though the heat of his mouth had seeped into your flesh and was burning you from the inside out. And the dizzy feeling had only grown worse, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut for a long moment.

· Martin was still struggling to get his breathing under control, “Yes. I-It was good…better than good, actually. But…”

· “But?” Had you done something wrong? Had you tasted bad after all? You cracked open one eye, then the other. The spinning had mostly subsided, but you still felt unsteady. “What can I do better next time?”

· He’d gone stiff all over then, and his reply had come sudden and sharp, “No!” He cringed, the force behind his words clearly surprising himself as well. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “No ‘next time.’ I…I can’t stand hurting you like that. I won’t do it again.”

· You’d gazed up at him, blinking in confusion for a second. Then you realized what he’d meant—you had flinched when he’d cut you. Oh.

· You reached up, cupping his cheek, “Oh, Martin. You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” It wasn’t strictly true—it had hurt a little, but you had been prepared for it to. You brushed a stray droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with a careful swipe of your thumb.

· “Yes, I did. I saw it.” You had tried to protest further, but he’d cut you off, much to your surprise. Martin almost never talked back like this, though perhaps you’d simply never given him a reason before. “I saw you flinch. I won’t put you through this again.”

· And he hadn’t. Though you’d brought the idea up more than once, he had dismissed it each time with the same stubborn shake of his head. If Martin was anything, he was true to his word.

· “…and it’s been such a long time since we heard from the guy.”

· The DJ hums in agreement, “It has indeed, my friend. Maybe we’ll hear from him later tonight. If you’re out there listening, Count, don’t be a stranger! Give us a call,” He begins rattling off the stations toll-free number. “We’re all dying to hear from you again!”

· You feel Martin stiffen up against you. You knew about the interviews he had done; you’d even heard one of them, back when Martin was little more to you than a silent, sullen face behind the counter at Cuda’s shop. And even when he’d started talking to you, he sounded different over the radio—his voice was deeper, and he sounded so confidant, so sure of himself when he talked about his ‘sickness.’ He almost never sounded like that in day-to-day life. You weren’t embarrassed to admit you found it attractive.

· Martin on the other hand, was mortified to know you had heard him. He had known that people were listened to him, obviously, but they were supposed to be strangers. You actually knew him, and he’d talked about sex. Of course, reminding him you’d done a lot more in your time together than simply listen to him talk about sex did little to lessen his horror.

· Of course, you also knew he’d been doing fewer and fewer interviews now that he had you to talk to and share his life with. But on occasion, when the pleading from the DJ gets too desperate, or he was simply that bored, Martin could be coaxed back onto the other end of the phoneline once again.

· You glance up at him, but in the darkness, his expression is unreadable, eyes cast down toward the end of the bed, long lashes throwing feathered shadows across his pale cheeks. From the very beginning, he’s been hard to read. As you’ve come to know him better, you’ve needed to get comfortable with the idea of asking when you want to know something you could easily intuit if speaking to anyone else. He’s very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings behind a neutral expression and placid silence, but he would tell you almost anything if you asked him directly; so long as he had the words to explain it to you.

· Do you want to make a call, Martin?”

· For a long moment, he’s silent, turning the idea over in his mind a few times. You had never actually been with him when he’d done an interview in the past. He’d usually wait until you were three days deep in an assignment with no quick end in sight, or out of town with family. Maybe he would be too embarrassed to do it with you here or maybe he’s just not in the mood tonight. But, after a minute, he tilts his head down toward you and says, “Why not?”

· The radio crackles out a jaunty tune—a commercial for some small business or another. “I’ll call in a few minutes. He doesn’t seem busy tonight.” Martin sits up, bracing his back against the headboard of your bed, and dislodging you from your perch. You grumble a little, irritated by the loss of your comfy spot, but you crawl into his lap anyway.

· You press soft kisses into his skin, beginning at his hairline, and trailing down over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks—the right then the left—the very tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He smiles against your mouth, leaning into the kiss with his whole body.

· When you pull away only a moment later, you can practically hear the pouty turn of his mouth. He whines softly, but you pay him no mind, trailing kisses down his chin. “Are you nervous, Martin?” The question comes out muffled by the soft curve of his jaw.

· “Not really, no…” He trails off, eyes cast to the ceiling, “I like the attention, I s’pose.”

· You pull back to look at him, barely stifling a snort of amusement, “Don’t I give you enough?”

· His eyes slide from the ceiling, falling upon you dark and wide. For a moment, you think he’s taken you seriously, but the pouty turn of his mouth breaks into a blinding grin, “You give me lots, sure, but I’m a creature of the night, remember? We always want more.”

· The two of you sit there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the silence stretching on into the night. Then, you collapse into each other in a fit of giggles. Martin buries his head into the crook of your neck, shaking with quiet laughter. Sure, when he’d said wasn’t untrue, but when he put it like that, it was hard not to laugh.

· “Welcome back, everybody. It’s almost the top of the hour at 01:57! I’m your host Barry…”

· You hadn’t even heard the ads end! Martin scrambles for the chunky landline phone that rests on the beside table, nimble fingers punching in the numbers at speed. Though his calls had become less and less frequent, he evidently kept the number somewhere in his memory.

· Martin’s voice is hushed as he speaks to whoever manned the phones down at the radio station, muttering something about ‘the Count.’ As he speaks, he winds the coiled phone cord around a delicate finger. It’s a simple, distracted habit of Martin’s but it makes your heart flutter whenever you catch him doing it.

· You stretch your arm as far as you can, reaching for the radio, unwilling to give up your perch in Martin’s lap for even a second. Your fingertips brush the cool metal—once, twice—then you manage to curl your fingers around it. Pulling it into your lap you turn the volume down low so only you can hear it.

· “I’m just getting word that we have a special guest on the line,” the DJ sounds positively elated, “Folks, it looks like the Count is back in town. Hello, Count! Where have ya’ been?”

· Martin hesitates for a moment, his jaw working as he searches for the words, “Around.”

· There is a definite lag between the words in his mouth, and those same words coming through the radio. The dissonance confounds your ears and makes your head ache in a dizzy sort of way, but you want to hear both halves of this conversation, not just Martin’s.

· “So, what trouble have you been getting into since we last spoke, Count? Murdered any pretty ladies recently?”

· There’s a smile in Martin’s voice, “Not ladies, no.”

· “Oh really? Any men then?”

Martin glances down at you, though he makes a non-committal noise. The DJ takes a breath, as though he’s going to say something, but Martin cuts him off, “I wouldn’t call what I do murder, anyhow.”

· “No? But you still need to drink blood, right?”

· “Oh, yes.”

· “How have you been getting your food, then? Don’t vampires uh…kill with every strike?”

· Martin laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder through you. “I’ve been managing.” His tone is damn near conversational. You gaze down at him, marvelling at how easy this seems to be for him. The Martin you’ve come to know and love rarely (if ever) speaks to strangers, and when he has no other choice, he’s never this talkative. It’s strange, but by no means an unwelcome change. You nuzzle against him, letting his voice thrum through your skull as it vibrates around in his chest.

· “Enough talk of blood and guts, Count. What about your other problems, huh? Tell me, are the streets of Braddock safe at last from the real terror stalking them? Have you…” He pauses conspiratorially, “Found yourself a girl yet?”

· Those words drive an icy spike of hurt deep into your guts. No, he had not found himself a girl. Martin must have felt your jaw clenching, as his free hand begins to card through your hair—soothing and soft.

· “I’ve found…someone.” The implications of that word settles you almost as much as his touch. ‘Someone.’ Not a woman, but someone of significance, nonetheless. He bends down to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head. “Someone special.”

· The DJ gasps, sounding scandalized. “Someone special! Well, I never. Good for you, Count.” You can’t say you’re a fan of the man’s tone—pleasant enough, but with a sharp edge that borders on condescending. But there’s little you can do but grit your teeth and bear it. “How long until you suck this one dry and move on?”

· Wow. Fuck this guy. On some level, you’d known he was an asshole—sure you felt bad for him when people were rude, but he could dish it out just as well as he could take it. Every once in a while, he’d push a caller too hard or make a snide comment the conversation could have done without. You didn’t like hearing it when strangers were involved, and now that you were the subject of such a comment, you like it even less. He makes it sound like you’re some random conquest, or worse, little more than a meal to Martin. How wrong he was.

· Suck this one dry and move on? Fat chance, Buddy. Though, his wording did give you an idea…maybe you could make this night just a little more interesting for the both of you.

You sit back, uncurling your legs and dropping your knees to either side of Martin’s hips, straddling his lap properly. Settling your weight back into his lap, you pull a face, pointing to the radio in your lap and mouthing, ‘What a jaggoff!’

· Martin’s lips press into a thin line as he tries to stifle his laughter. He nods sympathetically but doesn’t say anything about it to the DJ. He’s slow to anger, preferring to divert the conversation rather than cause a scene. You can’t help but admire him for that. You lean forward, stamping a kiss against his collarbone.

· “I…uh…try not to eat the things I love.”

· “Ooooh, so it’s love, huh?”

· You roll your eyes at the DJ, though you can’t deny hearing Martin say he loves you sends a little thrill through you—it was the same thrill you’d felt the first time he had said it to you, and the same thrill you hoped to feel for years to come. You trail little, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Martin’s throat, your mouth feverishly warm against his skin. A shudder jolts through him like an electric shock as your teeth scape across his Adam’s apple. You grin against his flesh, sliding up to nip along the underside of his jaw. There is a sensitive spot at the very corner that you love to exploit, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

· Your teeth graze over the spot and his body jitters beneath you. His voice catches in his throat, though if the DJ notices, he doesn’t comment. You nip gently at the spot, reddening the pale skin as you worry it with your teeth. You long to suck a bruise there—the purple-blue hue would doubtless look stunning against the pallor of his skin, but you knew Cuda would have a conniption if he saw it, and you didn’t want to put Martin through that again. Not after last time. The pair of you had agreed that perhaps in future, it would be better if any hickeys you left remained under your clothes.

· Pressing one final kiss against that spot, you pull back to look at him. You can tell he’s getting flustered—there’s a flush beginning to creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, deep pink and blotchy. You know, given time, it will reach his cheeks, the colour blooming high on his cheekbones. When you get him worked up enough, you could make Martin blush to the very tips of his ears. It was adorable.

· Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as you drag your nails down his chest. His teeth catch his lower lip. You can almost hear the whine trapped behind those pearly teeth.

· “Why don’t you tell us a little about this special someone, Count?”

· Martin hesitates, “I don’t know about that.”

· “Nonsense! You can tell your good ol’ pal Barry. Who am I gonna tell?”

· Martin isn’t that stupid. He knows Barry doesn’t need to tell anyone anything—he’s live on air, he’d be telling them himself. His eyes flick down to yours, searching for something, be it permission or resistance. He pulls the phone away from his ear, resting it against his shoulder as he waits for you to make up your mind. You know he’d hang up in an instant if you asked him to—he’d likely do you one better and never call in again if the DJ was just going to ask questions about you all night long. But you trusted Martin not to give too much information away—he’d managed to stay hidden all this time, after all.

· You nodded at him, smiling and thumbing gently over a nipple. Though your touch is light, and the sensation is dampened by the fabric of his shirt, Martin makes a sound as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He shifts beneath you, tucking the phone underneath his chin as he moves.

· You grip the striped fabric of his shirt, working it in your hands. You lift it a little, fingers slipping just beneath it to splay against the flat plane of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft beneath your hands. You look down at him, arching a brow and asking for permission with only your eyes.

· “Fine.” He says, and though the word is an answer for the DJ’s pleading, he’s talking to you, looking directly into your eyes—granting the permission you were so hoping for.

· “Great! So, how long have you been together?”

· You fall into him, hands pushing the soft cotton of his shirt up over his chest. Your lips are on his skin in a matter of seconds, trailing kisses across every inch of exposed skin—stomach, ribs, hips, and everything in between.

· “It’s been ahh—” His words are cut short by a tight little moan as you bite down hard just below his left nipple. However, he manages a solid recovery as your tongue laves over the spot soothing the sting, playing the whole thing off as though he had needed time to stop and think about it, “—bout a year, maybe a little longer.”

· Clever boy.

· You drag your tongue a little higher, flicking over the sensitive skin of his nipple. He arches into your touch, hips canting up against yours, threatening to buck you from your perch. He tilts his head, trapping the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, reaching for you with both hands.

· He takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling your head away from his chest. You grin up at him, taking in his expression—his pupils blown so wide with want they swallow all but the slimmest ring of brown iris, his lips parted and shining in the semi-darkness, flushed to the tips of his ears.

· You surge up to kiss him, remembering only at the last moment, he needs to keep his mouth free to carry on the conversation. With a huff, you divert your course, and fix your lips back against the skin of Martin’s neck.

· He swallows hard as you press your lips back against his pulse, pushing his hips back up into yours. You can’t keep the grin form your face as you feel him pressing up against you—the outline in his pants far more noticeable now.

· His hands tremble slightly as they search for yours, dragging them down to the front of his jeans. You grin widens as you press down. Even through the thick denim, you can feel his cock throb under your palm. Someone’s excited.

· You look down at him and he turns his head away, flushing a shade darker. He was so easy to wind up like this, it was almost unbelievable. A few kisses here, and gentle touch there, and he was a blushing, whining mess spread out on your sheets for you to enjoy however your pleased. You had chalked the over-sensitivity up to a lack of experience, and had expected it to fade after a few months, but it hadn’t. He was just that reactive, not that you were complaining.

· With deft fingers, you pop the button of his jeans, quietly dragging the zipper down. He lifts his hips, wriggling helpfully as you drag his pants and underwear down over his thighs.

· His cock bobs free, flushed and leaking already. You ghost the pads of your fingers over the soft skin of his shaft, and he shudders, his whole body tensing. His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, and his jaw is tight with the struggle of keeping quiet.

· You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently from base to tip. His back arches off from the headboard, and he falls forward, burying his head in the crook of your neck. The phone receiver bumps against your collarbone, hard and hollow. The plastic is pleasantly cool against your feverish skin.

· “Is it different being with a…uh…forgive the expression, normal person?”

· “They’re a…” His laugh is breathy, almost a moan as he glances down at you, “a real handful.”

· You barely stifle a laugh. You glare down at him in mock disapproval, and he sticks his tongue out at you. Cheeky little bastard. Though the colour still sits high on his cheeks, and his breathing comes through parted lips in short puffs, he seems to have adjusted well to your pace.

· “Nothing you can’t handle though, I’m sure. Do they know about your…condition, shall we say?”

· “They are aware, yes.”

· The DJ laughs, “And how did that go? Can’t be an easy thing to hear—that your boyfriend might vamp out and eat you whole!”

· Martin sighs, “I already told you, I don’t eat people…” His voice is much steadier now, even as your fingers brush along the sensitive spots on the underside of his cock. That means its time to switch things up. You can’t have him getting too comfortable. Where would the fun be in that? You tighten your grip—something that usually makes Martin thrash against the sheets and sob into your pillows—and begin to swipe your thumb gently over the tip of his cock with every upward stroke. He almost drops the phone as he yanks it away from his mouth. He covers the receiver with a shaking hand just in time, as a soft whine slips through his teeth, “Oh, fuck…”

· You press a finger up against your lips, reminding him to be quiet. He presses up into your fist, his hips stuttering as your thumb traces a lazy circle around his head. His free hand flutters nervously about his mouth, as he tries desperately to keep quiet. His breath comes sharp and quick though his nose as he struggles to keep control. You shift your weight, pinning his hips back down with your thighs, and though he tries to buck back up against you, you hold him firmly in place. He whines high in his throat, shooting a pleading look up at you, but you just shake your head and point at the phone, ‘Keep going.’

· Slowly, Martin brings the receiver back up to his ear. His tongue flickers out over his lips and he lets out a shaky breath, “S-Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

· “I said, ‘let’s circle back to what you said before,’ about not eating what you love. Why not? If you don’t need to kill to feed, why not feed on this special someone? Surely if they love you back, they’d be willing.”

· You slow your hand, wanting to give Martin a fighting chance at answering. You were momentarily intrigued by the DJ’s line of questioning. You knew why Martin didn’t want to feed on you, but you were curious as to what sort of excuse he would give.

· “W-Well…it’s come up mo-ore than once but…” Martin goes silent as you squeeze down on him, his posture going rigid, his head thrown back against the headboard.

· The DJ lets the silence hang for a moment, but when Martin doesn’t finish his thought, he cuts in, “But…? You still there, Count?”

· You let up, and Martin takes a big gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered he needed to breathe. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. It’s…it’s complicated.”

· “Oh yeah? How?”

· “Well, it’s not about whether they’ll let me or not…” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steadies himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely more than a whisper, “It’s that I want more.”

· He tries in vain to buck up into your fist, his hips rolling in shallow, abortive little thrusts. His teeth are sunk into his lower lip, his eyes boring deep into your own.

· ‘I want more.’ Those words were meant for you.

· You blink down at him, momentarily dumb founded. Then a grin spreads across your face, sharp and hungry. If he wants more, you’ll give it to him—you’d give it to him until he was begging you to stop.

· Sliding down his body, you know this is risky. Martin has never been good at keeping quiet, especially not when you’ve got your mouth on him. But the idea is simply too enticing to pass up on. When were you ever going to get the change to suck his cock live on air again? Besides, this might be good practice for him in the art of keeping his voice down—not that you didn’t love to hear him, it just might be nice to keep your…activities a secret from the whole neighbourhood for once.

· You wriggle down onto your stomach, bringing your face level with Martin’s cock. Settling yourself into a comfortable position between his knees, you bend your head, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock.

· He makes an involuntary choking sound in the back of his throat. You look up at him, resting your chin on the tops of his thighs. You want to give him the time he needs to make up his mind. If he tells you ‘no,’ or pushes you away, you’d gladly go back to stroking his cock and kissing his neck. You would get just as much pleasure from the shivers and whimpers you could wring out of him that way.

· But he doesn’t tell you no, rather he pushes his hips up against you, pressing the tip hard against your lips. You flick your tongue out, ghosting for only a moment over his sensitive flesh, but it’s enough to make his eyes roll back, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You do it again, and his mouth falls open. Though no sound escapes the look on his face is just as glorious.

· This is going to be fun.

· You crane your neck, opening your mouth and gently taking the head inside. Martin’s free hand shoots to his mouth, and he bites down hard on the meat of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. You press your tongue flat against him, dragging it slowly against his hot flesh. He thrashes beneath you, jostling the phone against his cheek.

· Carefully, you sink further down on him, taking him in inch by inch. He lets out a long sigh around a mouthful of palm.

· “What was that, Count?”

· “Oohh…nothing,” Martin grinds out, “Just…closing a window.”

· The lie was flimsy, but the DJ, despite his skeptical tone, didn’t seem interested in pressed him on it further, “…Right…so how is your control around this person, huh? Do you ever get the urge to just go to town on them?”

· Martin’s laugh comes out as a low purr, and he bucks into your mouth once, “Mmm, sometimes.” Ever so slowly, as you’ve sunk down onto his cock, he’s been curling in on himself. His head now rests atop your own, and you can feel the heat of his cheek radiating against your scalp. If that heat is anything to go by, he must be positively scarlet.

· “And what does that entail for you exactly?”

· With a little jolt, his cock brushes up against the back of your throat. You swallow down a little choking noise, breathing steadily through your nose in an attempt to calm your gag reflex.

· The warmth of Martin’s cheeks is suddenly gone as he straightens up again. His head hits the headboard with a thump. “I-I just wanna…” He swallows thickly, his breath coming hard, “Push into…p-push my teeth into their throat and just,” He bucks up into your throat, either unable, or simply unwilling to stay still any longer, “just take what I want.”

· “Their…blood?”

· You swallow around Martin and his back arches so far he practically lifts off the bed “Yes! Yes, everything they have to give!”

· “Right…for a moment there it sounded a bit more, uh, sexually motivated than that.”

· Again, your throat contracts around him, and a hiss of air escapes through his teeth, “No difference really…”

· The DJ is silent for a moment, “Now that’s an interesting tidbit about you, Count. I’m sure all the ladies out there would love to hear more about that.”

· Marin fucks up into your throat again with a soft groan, “I’m…I’m sure they would but,” His breath is coming harder now, “unfortunately, I’m taken.”

· The DJ laughs, “Hear that, Count? That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts all over Braddock breaking. Sorry, folks but it looks like you’re out of luck.”

· Oh. He’s taken alright. You can just imagine the anguished looks on their faces when you learn he gets taken almost every other night by another man.

· Though you’d love to keep him in this position, you’re struck by the sudden, possessive urge to have him on his back. You tap his thigh thrice in quick succession and Martin withdraws almost immediately. He’s always so respectful of your wishes, even if he whines a little when his cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth. The sudden chill of the air on his wet cock sends a shiver through him.

· You scoot back, grabbing Martin by the calves, and pulling him down into a more horizontal position. He fumbles with the phone, as it slips from his grasp, landing on the bed near his shoulder.

· “What’s going on, Count?”

· “S-Sorry, I just…I just dropped the phone is all. I’m…I’m feeling awful shaky these days.”

· “Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”

· Martin’s tone is distracted, “Ages.” He is far more focused on you, his dark eyes trained on yours as you loom over him.

· The DJ asks another question, but you’re not listening as you slip Martin’s slick cock into your mouth, wasting no time in taking him back into your throat where he belongs.

· Though you can’t make out his words so well over the rushing in your ears, Martin’s voice sounds strained, slightly higher than usual. He’s fighting the pleasure hard.

· His free hand fists itself in your hair, pushing you down tighter against his cock. You swallow hard, trying desperately not to gag as he rolls is hips into your mouth. He’s come such a long way since the first time you asked him to fuck your mouth. He’d been so nervous that you did most of the work, bobbing your head faster and faster until he’d spilled deep into your mouth. He had apologized for almost an hour after, thinking the rasp in your voice was all his fault. Now? He’s practically asphyxiating you, and you hadn’t needed to say a word.

· Martin is shaking—his thighs tremble on either side of your head, and the phone in his hands nearly slips from his grasp again with the force of the tremors passing through him.

· You hollow your cheeks and he’s forced to cover the receiver again as a series of whimpers tear free from his lips. You press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and he sobs, his hips canting up off the bed.

· “I-I’m close,” His frantic whisper comes tight through his teeth, an edge bordering on panic creeping into his voice. You grip his thigh and redouble your efforts, gaining a high whine in return.

· “Hey, Count? Count there’s a lot of interference on your end…I can’t really hear you. I think this is where this conversation has to end, but call back another night, huh?” Martin doesn’t even respond, he simply slams the receiver back into the cradle, ending the call.

· Almost as soon as the call has disconnected, he’s a whimpering mess. “Oh, fuck! Your mouth…I-I can’t! Is it okay? Is it okay if I…?”

· He can’t bring himself to say it, but you know what he means and hum a soft affirmation around his cock. He cries out as the sound vibrates around his over-sensitive flesh.

· With a whimper, he fucks up into your mouth, once, twice, then he shudders, his whole body going rigid as he cums. His knees clamp around your ears, squeezing your head as he shakes with the pleasure. His fingers pull at your hair, any tighter and you’re sure he’ll pull some out. But you press on, hollowing your cheeks, letting him ride the high for as long as he can.

· The sound he makes as you swallow around him is nothing short of wrecked. His fingers claw the sheets as though he’s trying to drag himself away from you, from your mouth, but his body remains locked in place beneath you.

· His cock twitches against your tongue as you slowly pull back, the wet drag of your tongue digging raw little whimpers from his throat, and a shudder passed through him when you pull of and his cock is again exposed to the chilly air of the room. His hips press forward, seeking the tight heat of your throat again. It would seem almost desperate if the motion wasn’t so sluggish, almost sleepy.

· He reaches for you then in the dark. His hands, hot and sweaty from exertion and gripping both the phone and the sheets for so long, grasp either side of your face as he pulls you up for a kiss.

· The salty taste of his cum still coats your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his lips against yours with a desperation you rarely see in him.

· Pulling back, you whisper against his lips, “Was that enough attention?”

· He smiles, “For me? Yes.” He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “But now it’s your turn.”

#martin x reader #slasher x reader #martin 1977 #slasher imagines #ripper fics #sorry for how late this is #enjoy!

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kimnjss · 4 years

Text

studio session | myg

⤑ series: do it again

⤑ genre: smut, rapper!yoongi x model!reader, ex lovers au.

⤑ rating: explicit.

⤑ word count: 4.1K

⤑ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, dom!yoongi, fingering, pussy slapping, oral sex (f. receiving), brief clothed handjob, biting, hair pulling.

⤑ A/N: to be honest, i felt a little odd?? writing this. i wasn’t really motivated as i usually am, so if that translates throughout the chapter i apologize! i would need to, though! thank all of you guys for reading this story and giving me your feedback! the response has been amazing and iM SO HAPPY FOR THAT! so thank youuuu! i hope you enjoy this chapter, make sure to let me know what you think! x

Just, as usual, the door to Yoongi's Genius Lab was locked. In the past, you'd rush up to the door... typing in the eight digits that represented your birthday. You could still remember the way your heart would flutter at the sight of the red light turning green, allowing you access to his sanctuary.

Now though, you were more than positive that he had changed the code. Not bothering to, or really in the mood to try and guess what he could've possibly changed the code to, you knocked.

Three times, hard and loud, knowing how turned off to the outside world he was when he was behind those thick doors. Moments passed before the door was being pulled open, Yoongi's sleepy eyes and unkempt hair being the first thing you could focus on. Pushing a smile onto your lips, you lifted the to-go box for him to see.

“Why didn't you just come in?” He wondered, moving to the side so you could enter. Yoongi was pushing the door closed, crossing the room to sink back into his chair.

“I don't know the code.” You replied plainly, setting the food down on the table behind him. Yoongi shot you with a quizzical glance, his eyebrows furrowing. “You don't know your own birthday?”

Despite the monotone that was his voice and his bored expression, you still felt the butterflies spread their wings in your stomach. A blush creeping up your neck, toward your cheeks. So he hadn't changed it. You had no idea why that made you feel so warm, but it did.

Shaking your head, you forced your attention to the reason for this visit. “I brought you spicy noodles and steak. There are chopsticks in the box and I got you some vitamin water to drink.”

He nodded coolly, fingers poking through the bag to scooping out its contents. “You didn't get yourself a drink?”

“Why would I need one?”

He shrugged, standing from his chair. Yoongi took slow steps toward you, only to past you completely and sink down into the comfort of his black leather couch. “I just figured we'd eat together.” He was looking at you in the way he knew you couldn't deny.

Lips pouted, cat-shaped eyes slightly squinted, head tilted to the side. How he managed to look this adorable, just sitting there in his baggy black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He had kicked his shoes off sometime throughout the night, black socks replacing them. Who were you to reject him?

You were moving to sit beside him before you could talk yourself out of him. Ignoring the triumphant grin that broke onto his lips once he saw you approaching. “We'll just share my drink.”

No matter how many times you insisted that you were one hundred percent capable of feeding yourself, Yoongi didn't stop shoveling mouthfuls of food into your mouth. Each time he would feed himself, he would be quick with feeding you.

It all felt comfortable and familiar and you hated that. You were meant to be moving on, yet you couldn't bring yourself to leaving. Couldn't bring yourself to stopping and you were quickly realizing that you didn't want to. There was still so much there and you'd feel like an idiot if you just let it all slip away.

There had to be a way to work through all this, right?

“What are you thinking about?” You hadn't even realized how close the two of you managed to get while sitting there. Thighs pressed together, his arm loosely around your waist as you leaned into him.

His touch always felt so nice. It was like he had a sixth sense, in tune with your body. He always knew where to be gentle, when to be rough. Knew exactly how to make you feel good with little to no effort. Would you ever be able to find someone who knew you like that again? Doubt it.

“Just how you've been hogging all the meat. All I keep getting is noodles,” You faked a pout and he laughed, searching through the noodles to pull out a piece of meat. He brought it to your lips and you opened, eyes staying trained on him the entire time he pushed into your mouth.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a result of the way he was looking at you. Hungry as if he'd pounce in second now. The countless times you looked up at him as he pushed his cock into your mouth, no doubt that was the only thing running through his mind.

You could feel the atmosphere changing and from the darkness of his eyes, you could tell he felt it too. Clearing your throat, you shifted in hopes to put a little bit of distance between you two.

“What were you working on before I got here?” You tried to change to subject. Wanting to stick to your guns about at least one thing. You weren't sure if you'd be able to resist for long, the physical contact wasn't doing much for your situation either.

“Where did Hyoseop take you?” Yoongi ignored your question in his signature Yoongi way. You couldn't help but wonder how many times he tossed that question around in his head. How many scenarios he was able to come up with before he was driving himself crazy.

You shrugged, “Just around.”

He let out a laugh, a sound that you weren't expecting. “Must've been a really shitty date.” He slurped at his noodles, that annoying smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes.

“It was really nice actually.” Yoongi barked out a laugh, nearly choking on the noodles in his mouth. You glared at him, reaching to land a weak punch on his shoulder. “My bad, my bad.” He snorted, reaching for the drink and sucking back a long sip.

“I only guessed that that date was trash, but now I'm sure of it.” He breathed, pushing his fingers through his hair. “'Really nice' yeah, okay, Yn. Just say you were bored out of your mind.”

You hated him. So sure of it. Forget all the nice things you had said about him in the past, he was an asshole. How dare he make assumptions about your time out. How dare he laugh about it. How dare he be right.

Hyoseop was a nice guy. Really sweet. But he just wasn't fun. You two went to get ice cream and walked around the park until your dinner reservations. He was a little put off about having ice cream before dinner, something you and Yoongi made a big habit of. Hyoseop just didn't get it.

The conversation between the two of you was stale, to say the least. He made attempts to make you laugh and you spared him a sweet giggle. You just couldn't seem to concentrate fully on him. Mindlessly comparing every lacking quality to all the things Yoongi had to offer.

So you hated him.

“You don't know that. I had a good time,” You tried to convince him, although you didn't believe it a bit. He rolled his eyes. “You know you can't lie to me. Did you kiss him?”

“It was only the first date!”

“Bullshit. You kissed me before I even asked you out.” You had. Kissed him in his kitchen because he had spent the entire day making you laugh. Flirting with you and complimenting you. Namjoon had walked in, all wide-eyed and surprised as if the sexual tension between you two hadn't been thick enough to cut with a knife.

Things only escalated from there, gentle kisses turning hot and rough, innocent hand-holding turning to heavy petting, the feeling of his hands in your hair no longer having its sweet effect on you. When your first date came around you were sucking him off in the backseat of his car, sneaking past his friends and into his room where you guys fucked into the early hours of the morning.

The ache was back in your belly, a feeling you became all too familiar with after the two of you broke up. You missed him. Missed how easily things clicked with him, how quickly you were falling for each other. Or how quickly you fell for him.

“I didn't tell you how pretty I think you look in that dress.” The tip of his fingers ran over the end of your dress, slickly grazing your thighs as well. “Did you get all dressed up for me?” He grinned. You shook your head, swatting his hand from your leg.

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes, moving closer to you on the couch. His strong hand landing at the side of your neck, fingers reaching to grasp the hair at the nape of your neck. Free hand dropping to grip your thigh, pulling your legs up onto his lap. He leaned close and you leaned into him, heart pounding with anticipation. All you wanted was to feel his lips again.

You puckered, when his lips were inches from yours, eyes falling closed missing the annoying smirk that took over his features. His lips found your ear, brushing against the shell gently. “You're such a liar.” He chuckled and you shoved at his chest, pushing him back.

“You're an asshole.” Laughs left his lips, his body hunching over until he was sucking breaths into his lungs. You shoved him again. “It's not even that funny.” He was straightening his body, looking at you as he took deep breaths.

“If you want to kiss me, Yn... you know you can just go for it,” He teased and you rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time. You were a bit afraid they'd get stuck like that. “I don't want to kiss you, Min Yoongi.”

Your legs still rested on his lap, the tips of his fingers mindlessly running over your thighs. Tracing the patterns that decorated your legs. “A shame. I want to kiss you.” You felt all the heat in your body rushing south, just from the sound of his voice, the honesty in his words.

“Shut up,” You grumbled.

“When you gonna drop the act? Admit you still want me, that you still have feelings for me?” His hand had traveled higher now, figure eights being pressed into your kneecap by his gentle fingers.

“Because I shouldn't. I'm trying to get over you.” He rolled his eyes, annoyance taking over his features. “Fix your face, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the reason I need to get over you? How you-”

His words cut you off. “Cheated on you. I know, I know. Are you ever going to let that go? It was one mistake, Yn.” You ripped your legs from his lap, standing on your feet. Frustration taking over as you paced around the room, pushing your fingers through your hair.

“That wasn't our only problem, Yoongi. You weren't attentive, you didn't care.” He was quickly standing, moving so he was in your sight again. “You think I didn't care about you? Are you fucking kidding me, Yn!?” His hand reached for yours, bringing the shiny rock wrapped around your middle finger.

“What's this then? How about the diamond necklace I bought you for our one year? The way I filled up your closets with whatever you wanted. How the fuck can you say I don't care about you when all I do is shower you with nice things,”

You ripped your hand from his grasp, ignoring the electric feeling having your hand in his ensued. “That's not the same thing and you know that.” You spat. “You don't fucking take me seriously, Yoongi. You just expected me to be your girlfriend; would get pissed if I wasn't able to drop everything to be there for you. All the fucking times you scoffed when you talked about my job as if it was a damn hobby,”

You were in his face now, finger poking into his chest as you spoke. You never understood the point of arguing with him. Not once did he hear what you were shouting. He never made the effort to make a change and if he did, it wouldn't last long. The annoyed expression on his face was softening, something you weren't use to seeing.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, fingers lacing with yours. “I hear you, baby. I do. Let me make it better. I can fix it, I promise. Please,” You had no idea what you were seeing, Min Yoongi didn't beg. No, he just took what he wanted, left the begging to everyone else.

His eyes were so pleading and so sad and you could feel your heart cracking. His thumb rubbed against your wrist lovingly as he took slow steps toward you. He brought your hand to wrap around his neck, smiling when he dropped his arm around your waist.

“I fucking miss you, Yn. At least think of trying again, please,” You felt as if you could throw up. Everything you felt for this boy was fighting its way up your throat. The way he was looking at you, with such sincerity didn't help your case either.

You were leaning into him, body taking on a mind of its own. Your lips were finding his, molding together like they were meant to. A breath you hadn't even realized you were holding mixed with his groan.

A fucking slippery slope. All you could do now was enjoy the ride.

You weren't able to resist yourself around Min Yoongi, that was becoming evident to you now. Somehow, he had managed to lay you back on the couch. His skillful tongue licking into your mouth, hips pressing into yours and making your head spin.

You tried to keep your moans at bay, not wanting to pump up his ego more than it already was. Then his lips were trailing down the side of your neck, biting and sucking on the skin. Tiny gasps left your lips before you had a chance to suck them back.

He groaned at the sound, pushing his hips into yours. A long moan slipped through your lips from the friction he had just created between your legs. “Yoongi,” You whimpered as he sat up, leaving too much space between you two.

You reached for him and he grinned, grasping your hands in his. His lips pressed wet kisses against your wrists, eyes staying on yours the entire time. Your hips lifted, begging to feel his weight on you again. “So needy.” He grinned. “Bet your soaked even though I haven't even done much,” You chewed on your lips, keeping yourself from telling him he was right. Again.

“Will you let me taste you?” Your nodding faster than you would've liked. His grin grew as he dropped your hands, reaching for your thighs. “Is that how we get the things we want?” He smirked, waiting to hear your words despite the way he was spreading your legs and lowering himself between them.

You whimpered. “Yoongi, please... I need your tongue,” The words fell from your lips naturally. His fingers reached underneath your dress, peeling your tights down your legs and pushing your dress up with his free hand.

“Fuck,” He breathed. No doubt admiring the lewd way your damp panties stuck to your pussy. Your body flinched, feeling his cool breath against your core. His eyes lifted, taking in your expression before lowering himself again.

Your breath hitched once you felt him push the lacy material aside. A hiss leaving your lips as he dragged the tips of his fingers between your folds slowly. He's finding your clit easily, rolling gentle circles into the nub. Your head drops back into the armrest of the couch, thighs shaking as he continued his teasing.

Yoongi was no fan of teasing when it came to him. He lived for teasing you, though. Watching how long he could play with you until you were losing your mind. There was no way you'd be able to hold out this time, it had been too long without his touch.

“Yoongi, please.” You pleaded, hips squirming as you tried to get closer to his lips. Greeted with his gummy smile, his eyes stayed on yours as he slipped a single finger inside your heat. You gasped when he curled it hitting that perfect spot.

Slowly, he adds a second finger, watching as your back arches. Only four days had passed since you had felt the stretch of having him inside you. Four days was like an eternity when it came to you two. Your skin is flushed and you can't help the whimpers that fall from your lips as you wait for him to get to the good stuff.

“You're so fucking wet,” His voice is hushed, eyes watching the easy slide of his fingers pushing in and sliding out of your pussy. “Go ahead, baby. Tell me, who else can make you this wet?” He stared at you, daring you to mention Hyoseop's name.

Rolling your hips, you were able to meet his movements. “O-only you, Yoongi. Oh... fuck, only you.” Shamelessly, you were riding his hand. You didn't care, though. The look on his face is enough to egg you on.

Your body jumps when he decides to brush his thumb over your clit. It was quick and so soft you barely felt it, but your body was quick to react. “So fucking sensitive,” He noted through a heavy breath. His eyes are back on your pussy, watching his fingers as he chews on his lip.

He knew that you only acted this way with him, no matter how many times you tried to deny it, how you tried to act like he didn't affect you. He knew. The knowledge had his ego growing ten times its size.

“You always open up so nicely for me. No matter what. Like you're made for me.” He groans. All you can manage is a small whimper, the feeling of his fingers being the only thing you can concentrate on.

Slowly, he's sliding his fingers from inside you. Your walls clench around them in protest, and he lets out a chuckle. His fingers trail upwards, closing your clit between his knuckles as he pinches. You let out a yelp.

A whine leaves your lips as he removes his hand from your heat completely. He lifts his hand toward your face and without a second thought, you're opening your mouth for him; curling your tongue around his fingers.

The sweet taste of your juices against your tongue and the hungry look on Yoongi's face had a moan falling from your lips. You could feel the hardness of his length, pressed against your thigh. You were quick to press a hand between his legs, feeling your way up to his long cock.

“Shit,” He groaned, slowly pulling his fingers from his lips. “Look at you. So fucking ready for me. So eager.” Yoongi leans into you for a moment, allowing your hand to stroke him through the fabric of his pants.

You watch as his brows furrow, his breathing quickly becoming uneven. His hips are slowly rocking into your palm and if you didn't know any better you'd say he was close. You're sure of it when his hand is quick to bat yours away, eyes opening as a new flush takes over his cheeks.

A giggle leaves your lips as he leans back on the balls of his feet to look at you. “Did I almost make you make a mess, baby?” You tease and he rolls his eyes. Four days was definitely an eternity for you two.

You can't help the string of giggles that leave your lips, them only being cut short from the sharp feeling of his fingers slapping against your pussy. You scream, loving the pleasant throb now between your legs. He grips your thighs, pushing your legs up toward your chest.

Heart pounding against your chest, you watch him. Mouth basically watering as you wait, watch what he'll do next. Yoongi dips his head down, a warm wet trail of kisses tracing your inner knee as he makes his way up.

Nipping his way up your thigh, Yoongi only stops to suck a hickey into your flushed skin. Your nerves are screaming, way too aware of what he's doing. Pussy dripping, clenching around nothing as he gets closer to where you need him most. A huffed breath hits your core, and your hips arch.

The tip of his nose brushes against your clit as he lowers his head and you hold your breath. Slowly, his tongue drags along your folds. As if he's testing the waters. Your fingers are reaching for his messy hair and he chuckles, the vibration sending jolts of electricity throughout your body.

Yoongi licks into you a few more times, slow lack that before he's tossing your thighs over his shoulders and really diving in. Two fingers slip into your entrance, while he rolls his tongue against your clit. A long, high-pitched moan leaves your lips as you use the grip you hold in his hair to push his face closer.

Your hips lift, grinding against his face. Surprisingly, Yoongi doesn't push you down. He lets you have your fun, taking everything you're willing to give to him. His fingers brush the sweet spot deep inside of you at the same time his lips wrap around your clit, sucking.

You gasp, hips speeding up a bit. He loved to see you like this, a desperate mess trying to find your release. Loved it even more because he knew he was the only one that could get you like this. No matter who you fucked, who you let take you on dates, he was confident none of them could make you feel like this.

Because you were the only one that could make him feel the way he felt. Absentmindedly, his hips began to thrust, cock rubbing finding friction on the couch from the inside of his sweats. He was desperate for you too. Couldn't wait to bury himself deep inside you, feel you squeeze him in the way you always did.

His teeth grazed over your bud and your name falls from his lip, all high-pitched and whiny. All other thoughts leave his mind, the only thing on his mind is making you cum. A third finger slides into your wetness. You suck in a breath, enjoying the stretch. His fingers fuck into you quickly, his tongue rolling over your clit just as fast.

“F-fuck, Yoongi! Baby... keep-” Your hands are shaking as you grip his black hair, holding him in place so he wouldn't dare move away. “Don't stop, please.”

Satisfaction rushes over the boy's body. The sound of his name falling from your lips, he could tell how close you were from the way your pussy clenched around his fingers. He kept up with his pace, with the movement of his tongue.

His name left your lips amongst a breathy string of curses, legs squeezing him in as your body tenses. You had lost all regard for volume control, not like you had paid it much attention before. Yoongi's fingers continued to fuck into you, the sound filling the room and mixing with your whimpers.

“Shit, Yoongi!” You shout as a certain curl of his fingers pushes you over the edge. Incoherent words of praise leave your lips as your hips swivel and your thighs shake. He's not pulling back until your body relaxes. Droopy eyelids and heavy lids, you grin up at him.

Lips are wet with your release, a little swollen. His hair messy than before, standing up in areas you had been gripping. “Pretty girl.” His grin matches yours as he lifts his body until he's face to face with you.

His mouth finds yours, the kiss sloppy and wet. His tongue tasting of you as he licks into your mouth. His hands are planted on either side of your head. You can't help the moan that slips past your lips as his teeth bite down on your lower lip. He tugs it back, releasing it with a wide grin.

“What about you?” The prominent bulge in his sweats press into his hip bone and you want nothing more than to wrap your mouth around it or feel him deep inside of you. Both would be good too.

“Come home with me.” He suggests, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. The tip of his nose brushes against the length of your neck before he's biting into your skin, tongue quickly poking out to soothe the skin.

Would there ever be a time where you weren't so ready to do whatever this boy wanted? It was like you were incapable of saying no to him and he knew that. His dark eyes stared into yours until you were nodding. “Okay,” You smiled.

He was quick to capture your lips with his, kissing you much sweeter this time. The flutter in your chest didn't go unnoticed. There was no way you'd ever be able to get over him.

– months after deciding to end their three year long relationship, a sex tape hits the internet. fans go wild speculating that rap star, min yoongi and aspiring model, yn are the stars. old feelings arise as the couple try to figure out a way out of this.

⥦ masterlist ⥦

⤑ taglist: @randomkoalablog @hellotherehoneybee @goldenlilyz @strapsforyoonie @brilliantlybasicb @itsrapmonstanotdancemonsta @ratking101 @butterflylion @swanqook @jaiuneamesolitaiire @cultleaderyoongi @honeybeesrec @crzybtslove @bangtansbun @snaconakookie @bookoffracturedescapes @seoulgotmysoul @tae165 @jimintulips @korkanswers @softwithbubbles @hosucki @sayanne @heyitsbreeeeee @ladymidnightt @thecityrain @isimyazaki @crackhead1-800 @sailor-moons-butt @honeyoongles @neptu-pysch @ashleyjoyx @falsegodtae @osnapjenn @betysotelo18 @mochibabycakes @withlovestudyblr @hear-me-growl @dee-ehn @jeonkoookiee @comingjimin @purpleheartarmi @dammit-jjk @mermaid-vader @karissacranley @neptunejjk

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floralkittygambler · 3 years

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HuskerDust - More Toxic Than You Think [LONG]

This is the rough version of a deeper and more complex subject I want to ‘decorate’ with more ‘screencaps’. DISCLAIMER: This is allegedly controversial and led to me getting literal death threats and an ED triggered. Ive about heard a lot of people’s shit on this so dont try it. I’m speaking from personal experiences too - experiences I really fuckin dont wanna be sharin yet they kinda validate my points. I want people to be aware of the damaging image from someone who can speak from experience without attracting dickheads or people twisting things. Again, I aint particularly comfortable sharing this so yeah- Be courteous- TW AHEAD - ALSO LONG ASS READ. DNI STANS OR ANTIS. May tag a few folks, may not. HuskerDust is an extremely popular ship in the community however there’s glaringly obvious flaws in this one-sided relationship that both the fans and even the team fail to see. Neglecting the dangerous real world implications this ship [as well as many others] present to it’s audience - especially the more influenced of the audience, most who are children.

Angel flirts with all the male cast however one who catches his eye the most is Husk. Now I want to point out a few things [of many... obviously]; Angel is instantly starry eyed upon seeing Husk, likewise he actually started off with a ‘Hey~’ instead of something sexual. However he quickly ruins this after Husk tells him to go fuck himself [defined by: “ go fuck yourselfphrase of fuckVULGAR SLANGan exclamation expressing anger or contempt for, or rejection of, someone.” ie, he rejected instantly] by responding with an offer to allow Husk to essentially watch him masterbate. Alongside this, he cradles his face. Husk pulls away and seems to pull a face to express rage/disgust or growling imagery alongside COMPLETELY withdrawing his body away from Angel as Angel stares with goo-goo eyes. Firstly, Angel loves animals - perhaps it’s Husk appearing cute that adds to this, however Im not going to address animal imagery just yet. Secondly, Angel isn’t really portrayed to respect other’s boundaries BUT he does respect... Alastor’s. Al declines the blowjob to which Angel shrugs and doesn’t push this matter any further. With Husk, he’s pretty harshly told to piss off yet he makes quite and explicitly sexual remark, alongside invading his personal space and touching a man clearly disinterested and pulling away. From the initial rejection, it then becomes sexual harassment. I also want to add that Husk comes with [some] perks in his feline form. And if my name didnt make it obvious, I work with and live with cats on a daily. Briefly, I have been educated in how to understand cat’s language in various individual cat as well as how to handle and work with them. Cats are often drawn towards me and Ive been successful with various types of cats. My most recent being a cat I’ve dubbed as Big - Big was abandoned quite young and has lived most his life on the streets [where I live is high in crime and drug rings, so you can imagine how strays are treated] leading to him being extremely fearful and hating people, hissing and fleeing just seeing people. I took time out last summer to finally give befriending him a shot. It’s taken just under a year of hard work and now he visits every day for his mush [wet food] and kisses, responds to his name and runs up to me in delight. Ive even taught him a phrase to signal that I dont want him or the other cat’s to fight [keeps them all safe and aids them becoming acquainted under supervision - something that’s been working surprisingly well]. I apologise in advance as this is not going to be the first instance of this sort of thing but they are relevant. Trying my best to keep it as brief. For Husk, I will be using a mix of cat and human characteristics to break down his reactions. In this first interaction, he turns his body away in a way to suggest caution, wariness and disinterest. In fact, much of his general body language is that of a man deeply closed off from connections - for starters, he folds his arms quick a bit which suggests lack of openness, shutting off and defensiveness *usually*. Likewise, when touched, he slightly jumps and tenses before pulling back in aggression with flattered ears - a sign cats give to display extreme hostility in a situation. It’s NEVER a good thing but then again, neither is crossing someone’s boundaries. It’s even stated that Husk hates Angel’s advances and wishes for nothing to do with him - the same dislike of sexual advances that Al dislikes in Angel. The ending as they all walk inside, Angel turns to Husk, winking and blowing a kiss his way despite the clear rejection earlier. In fact, Husk once again grows tense and is even irked by such a gesture. This won’t be the last mention of Angel totally disregarding how Husk feels - something that rubs off onto the fans AND the team themselves. And it’s... *concerning*, to phrase it lightly. Angel so far is the most persistent towards the most resistant, and in my post on RadioDust I have already established [briefly] on how Angel seems to chase unavailable men. The more unavailable, the more tempting. The one that got away, mentality. It’s not healthy. And I’m surprised so few have acknowledged this. Taking a break from what we’ve seen in the Pilot, let’s establish some facts about the pair. Angel died in 1947 in his 30s [some posts specify 34-35], putting his birth year around 1911-12ish. Husk died in the 70s IN his 70s [again, nothing is truly specified, so for both we’ll go with 75 - the same number in his IG username] that puts birth year roughly 1900′s. Now an age gap between two adults of 11 - 12 years difference is actually reasonable and can work, depending on circumstance and whether theres a balance in power or not. But when we account for their life experiences and death ages, it’s something else entirely. Angel died young. Not only that but his mind seems more stuck in his raunchy teens than of an adult. And even THEN, he wouldnt be one to necessarily settle down [by which I mean in life, not romance]. He’s extremely emotionally stunted and his selfishness and wanting his own way come off very spoilt [when Husk is pissed off about the cat costume, Angel gets moody because he’s used to compliments AND is dressing to impress Husk. When Husk wanted the money he was rightfully owed, Angel threw a fit for ages until starting to earn it back - even though he owed Husk a drink, which I’ll be coming back to, Husk still wanted the money in the end perhaps hinting to only accepting a freebie as it’s on offer as well as Angel being overly persistent. He even dumps his pig onto Husk to look after, while theres no issue in pet sitting, Angel said Husk ‘owed’ him due to missing the show yet when HE owed Husk, he threw a fit.]. Angel’s life style is wildly chaotic in life AND death, and even though we all know he’s most likely going to be redeemed, he still lacks a lot of experiences in life. He lacks maturity. On the other hand, Husk’s been through his own share of chaos and heartbreak. Difference is, he’s had a life time of experience. He doesn’t act immature in a childish sense. He truly behaves like a downtrodden old man. He’s had his days and would feel more secure settling down in a more peaceful environment with fun yet much needed calm. A better way to handle his need for risk. Age gaps in adults that are large [75 - 35 = 40 years!] are far less likely to work for a multitude of reasons. The main reason is the difference in life stages - that difference in mentality and experiences plays such an impacting role on compatibility. Often their goals and energies are polar opposites and their common grounds minimal. There’s also the looming concern of power dynamics. Whilst it’s usually the older figure that’s holds the power advantage, in this case it’s a little bit more complicated. I’d argue that it’s possibly Angel with the higher power. This rarely works irl but it’s POSSIBLE. Look at Hugh Heffner and his last partner before his death. I believe she was around 22. However there’s many common grounds, immediate attraction, and similar goals. Though incorrect, Heffner does give off a pimp-like vibe (he’s not but you get what I’m implying with mothlike imagery). Husk does not strike me as that type. It would definitely cheapen his character. In terms of interests, the main thing they have in common is that they like to drink. A bad habit, especially when one is an alcoholic. Both are also rather lazy except for certain circumstances [Husk will go out of his way to help HOWEVER he’s obliged to under Al, the only one he’s seen to willingly help and bond with/be seen with is Niffty. Angel is when there’s a fight, chaos, drama or any sex work]. Both are also rather snarky and vulgar. In terms of love, both suffer intimacy issues. On Husk, it’s ‘losing the ability to love a long time ago’ meaning he was likely cheated on or at least had a failed relationship. If he was ever ready for a new start, he’d definitely want something stable yet rewarding. For now, he needs a LOT of work - work he is not yet willing to put in, nor does he have a reason to. Angel doesnt want to commit because he’s extremely selfish as well as in an already abusive ‘relationship’ already. Sex work is sometimes VERY taxing on the mental health due to some of the folk you service. He’s seen the worst in many and just enjoys the pay and fuck. IF Husk was cheated on, then it’d make a lot of sense if a sex worker wouldn’t be his flavour, it would just serve as a reminder. Not only this, but Angel HIMSELF actively participates in cheating. Not with Val... but with *Travis*. BOTH know Travis is married (I’d be feckin worried if Trav didnt-) yet they still choose to cheat anyways, regardless of the pain it could cause. Angel even mocks this by sending greetings to Trav’s wife. Honestly this... Reminds me a LOT of Stolas - a main character who sexually harasses another character clearly not interested/comfortable, participates in cheating and we’re supposed to root for them (and before anyone gets offended, I do have more to say on Angel’s behalf so please be patient). Either way, it’s very toxic and concerning. Even if Husk wasn’t cheated on, I dont think many would feel exactly secure after having such a rough past with love, diving into a relationship with someone who’s openly participated in multiple affairs. And that’s no shitting on sex workers either, it’s just a point that some would feel uncomfortable with the idea of being with ANYONE (regardless of their work) having actively and KNOWINGLY took part in having an affair previously - especially multiple. Husk’s in an emotionally fragile place and needs more security. We’ve already established Husk heavily dislikes Angel’s advances. In fact, his responses to Angel are similar to his responses to... Al! His body language is VERY test and closed off to even Al, who’s most likely knew him for a very long time. If even Al gets this treatment (whilst also disrespecting his boundaries) then it’ll be the same with Angel (both force Husk into their lives and schemes, both disregard his boundaries). And he’s shown to STILL go out his way to help both however this is most likely tied to an unspoken ‘debt’ he owes Alastor. Plus he’s been mentioned behind the scenes to be a secret softie and protective grandpa type. But this animosity is very reflective of how Loona behaves and responds to Blitzo as well as how both Loona AND Husk (One being a ‘lowly servant’, the other being a literal old MAN) as pets - even the fans - just because of their forms. But this isnt the first of the disrespect they receive. Now we delve deeper Both are addicts of some kind (Husk - drinking, gambling. Angel - Drugs, possibly sex). Not a good mix at all romantically. Addicts often and unintentionally feed their addictions to each other as well as can increase likelihood of relapsing which even a recovered addict can slip back into. When times get tough (a natural occurrence) both are likely to suffer with their addictions. Interestingly, they can become addicted and dependent on one another, which is genuinely unhealthy for a mindset anyways, regardless whether addiction existed prior or not. Addiction only increases these chances. Angel likes confidence in a man (confirmed on Patreon). Yet, Husk is even confirmed in streams to be deeply troubled and insecure. One thing he hates is his demon form, something that we’ll touch on shortly. Angel loves quality food ESPECIALLY of Italian origin whilst Husk is willing to eat the shit they give you in bars (admittedly that was painful to type as someone who grew up around pubs - either way it’s not exactly high quality or gourmet is what I’m saying). Interestingly, in some character references of Angel, it’s stated that he hates rejection. Hates. That’s a VERY strong word. This could explain but not justify why he’s persistent with Husk (similar to NiceGuys believing you’re playing ‘hard to get’ - further illuding to an immature and toxic mindset) though it interestingly doesn’t apply with Alastor. Odd. There’s a counterpoint to symbolism in art. A very VALID counterarguement... If it suited Viv’s style. During Media Studies, Business, Design and Art, hell fucking Silent Hill! - I’ve been educated on effective symbolism as well as artistic trademarks (the most famous that most should know is Alfred Hitchcock!). Hitchcock often appeared in all his films, usually as a sidefacing silhouette, trading marking his films with his very PRESENCE. Viv’s seems to revolve around hearts. I mention this because an IG account made the point that hearts were to symbolise anyone connected with Angel’s story and love life (Valentino’s business and shades/collar, heart behind Angel’s head, Heart tattoo on Cherri’s right shoulder, hearts for Husk’s paws, eyebrow marks above natural brows, wings, and nose as well as most of the playing cards). Thing is, there’s hearts EVERYWHERE in all of Viv’s works and such symbology of Angel and hearts is weakened if it connects to the villains/abusers as well - taking away the positivity in a love symbol. Viv’s used hearts in her font, backgrounds, in characters ears, in all her series just generalised, Blitzo’s forehead, background characters, again the cards, Travis’s eyes, Millie’s right shoulder in the SAME place as Cherris. Even Vaggie had a heart tattoo on the shoulder in some christmas themed artwork (on her left). Heart’s is just something Viv seems to brand herself with. And that’s fine though I feel she could do with cutting it down slightly. One thing to early note on the cards (again, this’ll creep up later and my name should tell you why), most are heart suits and usually either a face card (J, Q, K), Joker, ace or 2s. Face cards/Jokers for more details close up (look at the signing artwork) and the rest are just easier to animate, though a little bit of a peeve to someone into their cards as well as the massive overuse of red in Hazbin overall. It’s extremely unlikely to be symbolic. If they change it to be so, then it’s... Weakened. As I’ve mentioned earlier, Silent Hill is an example of extremely clever symbolism in more darker media (more so, SH is considered a ‘hell’ of sorts and does feature religious iconography WITHOUT causing offence. A great example of how to portray this type of thing - they even mix humour in if you consider some of the sneaky references, dialogues and odd UFO/dog endings). Discussing Viv’s art further, she drew a gift for her sister (original creator of Husk when he possessed white fur) of Angel playfully dragging a disinterested and annoyed Husk (I believe this was still around the time SpiderMoth was canon). The newish art tends to have Angel putting a holly crown on him or sitting on his knees, Husk seeming too lazy to really do anything about it. Very nonchalant. I also want to include some interesting stream arts here and later to further highlight their bond. A fan asked Viv in a stream to draw them “actually getting along” - this wording implying that the fan is aware of Husk not enjoying Angel’s company. So Viv did, with an extra doodle of Husk being one of the ‘canadian people’ from South Park who sing “Im not your friend”. The art alone shows Husk’s absolute discomfort, even the extra thing Viv added w/o request. As they’re her characters and the fan asked for what they’d look like getting along, to show this discomfort goes to show the dynamic once planned. Husk just isnt a fan of Angel, especially when he’s being sexual and touchy. It can be great for small comedic parts, however both the team AND fans have now crossed this over to really creepy and triggering realms in their ships. It’s creepy and doesnt look good on Angel (who they actively root for) nor the gay community (more on that).

[Yes Ive already pointed out the comedic side of this ^ but it doesnt bode well considering the other points and issues that arise] There’s also a request for drag angel flirting with drunk husk. Personally thats a lil creepy to specify one of the two being intoxicated and thus not able to truly consent. If Angel is willing to flirt with someone in that state, it doesnt mean he would fuck them, but it does feel the fan was thinking that’s the case. In all truth, I think Angel WOULD flirt with those incapable of consent purely to swindle or pickpocket. I’d like to think [and HOPE considering his own abuse by Val] that he’d never take it further. And I hope Viv, the team and the fans see how incredibly creepy that thought is. I’ll give benefit of the doubt though it is still a concern. Either way, Angel appears... Annoyed? Husk is completely turned away and seems incredibly grouchy and confused. This shows yet more rejection on his behalf as well as Angel’s response to being rejected, which highlights his immaturity towards it. Remember, he’s USED TO and EXPECTS everyone to want him (even saying this in the Pilot). Hell, there’s even a Rich Vaggie request where Viv again randomly includes Husk. This time, he’s faced towards her and relaxed, though seems unimpressed and overall disinterested in this type of behaviour. Behaviour and interests of Angel [Celeb status and rich appearance due to Val, despite getting very little of the cut and the vanity, as well as Husk just not giving a shit about this sort of peacock display]. (Also wanted to note in Viv’s #3 stream 1:50:50, Faust makes out that Husk is a ‘dirty, creepy old man’ as well as him constantly threatening violence towards Angel. I dont see him as *creepy* in this context - as it implies perversion that he blatantly lacks fortunately - though it’s very telling of how Husk feels and again shows this toxic relationship).

/Angel’s Type: First off, daddy issues. He has them. Now let’s look at ‘daddy’. Henroin is shorter than Angel, dark fur, grumpy, old, wears only a hat and tie, big brows... Sounds familiar? Ok, look at his brother Arackniss. Similar to Henroin, dark, short, grouchy, bullied by and bullies Angel, is adverse to Angel and overall possess a bad relationship. Ok.... His main client, Travis! Short, dark fur, moody, Only wears hat and tie, drinker (shown in stream as request so take drinking with a pinch), similar face to- Is no one else seeing this trait? Angel seems to go for these shorter than him grouchier men who either want him for sex or hate his presence. Men who are like his dad and brother. All of these guys are far too similar, and we’ve got enough men in suits, bowties and sharp teeth in this show to boot as it is- The psychology of this type of attachment is rooted in a bad familial relationship alongside the subconscious desire to repair or compensate for it. Unknowningly the person will keep seeking out this sort of guy who isnt good for them to fix this internal issue. The resolution is to NOT go for these types. It’s also connected to intimacy fears, by going for those you know arent good for you/right for you/interested in you is often the manifestation of these issues. Pair them with daddy issues and it’s a disaster! There is science to back this up. Valentino is interestingly the opposite yet still toxic issues arise. Why? Because he’s going from one extreme to the other but with the same mindset. Neither of these men or types for MANY reasons are right for him. And visa versa. Seeing a pattern? ~~~~

Angel w Husk? I mentioned before that Husk hates his demon form. If you’re an old man, a gambler, some Vegas bloke and have this grouchier disposition, why the fuck would you want to look like an oversized pet? Exactly. Angel however adores his own aside from the feet. Now I find it strange how the guy we’re rooting for just so happens to like his own form which was intended for punishment. But that’s not todays post. I said earlier that Angel is heavily fixated on Husk’s appearance. Especially the feline aspects (calling him Husky and Kitty - petnames he hates that also treat him again more like a pet than a man -, dressing as a ‘sexy cat’ to appeal to him which can come off as more mockery. This is even backed up by fans who seem to think an old guy’s gonna act like some school girl anime trope?). All of this completely disregards and disrespects Husk’s feelings and perspectives. Something the fans and team take part in actively. Angel - whether you want to hear this or not - is SELFISH. When Husk ‘owed’ him for missing the show (babysitting Fat Nuggets), Husk begrudgingly fulfils this. The second Angel owed Husk for stealing drinks, Angel threw a hissy fit. The silent treatment, going to other bars and posting about it whilst complaining (again focusing on Husk being ‘cute’). Trying to cop out of it by buying Husk a smoothie (though it looked like a date, lets be real, do you REALLY have to bribe someone to date and be around you? No) and even then he still had to owe the money which was more of Husk’s concern. Yes he did in the end and more money than needed, hence the returning of the extra cash, but that is no excuse for the childish behaviour prior. He’s much too accustomed to being adored and pampered and getting his own way that he cant grasp when people arent a fan or willing to pamper him. If they make them a ship, all it does it make Angel completely into a shitty Gary-Stu that everyone loves and pities for his suffering, rather than teach him to grow, earn his redemption and confronting his own toxicity. Let me make this extremely clear: ANGEL DOES NOT DESERVE ABUSE OR RAPE. But when he starts behaving as shitty, he’s hard to root for. Remember, he’s sexually harassing all these guys, with Husk getting the brunt of it. But it’s treated as a joke for them and only taken seriously for Angel. Val abuses all of his employees. He abuses VOX and even THAT was mocked by fans and staff. It’s... It’s frankly gross. In every interaction Husk has with Angel, his body language is closed off, tense, uncomfortable, turned away and hostile - look at the IG. He wont even allow Angel to touch him. Compare this to Niffty, who he’s fine with taking pictures with and letting her hang around and touch him. Body language is relaxed (relaxed shoulders, open body language) and he doesnt look hostile at all. What does Angel do? Always tries to get close to Husk (such as sitting as close as possible during Poker) and forces both his OWN hobbies onto Husk (ones that Husk shows a strong disinterest in) and Husk’s hobbies (Poker). It’s very FORCED and not natural. Going back to immaturity, he blames Husk and his cards for being shit at the game. They’re always bickering, insulting, fighting in the comments but fans only see this as a ‘cute couple fight’ or Husk being ‘tsundere’.Tsundere. An anime trope often used in young characters. Irl tsundere is NOT this dramatised. The tsundere you see in anime, apply that irl and you get the recipe for the most toxic, petty and immature relationship going. You get constant fights, unease, not feeling loved/appreciated, little trust - the list goes on. Plus an old bloke really isnt going to indulge in tsundere traits. It’s childish. After his history with love, I doubt he’d be up for games and messing about. For something meaningful, he’d just want open honesty. Their ‘relationship’ feels like it’s written by horny kids attempting a fanfic after being inspired by 50 shades and twilight (both show toxic relationshiiiiiips~). The worst is that these are adult writers trying to portray some realistic yet sensitive topics. This is just ill fuckin taste. Even the warnings in Helluva’s ‘Horny Demons’ leaves a bad taste when the fans are thinking Stolas is the best dad despite both parents ruining Octavia’s mental health. Despite the next day after that episode aired Stolas starts flirting with Blitzo again on IG. Despite Blitzo being clearly uncomfortable and sexually harassed and even co-herced into sex (VERY UNHEALTHY MESSAGES HERE). Viv herself has been in bad relationships so how the fuck she’s blind to this and even borderline fetishizing this sort of behaviour that everyone seems to play off as ‘Awwww cute tsundere <3 BOYFRIENDS BOYFRIENDS BOYFRIENDS’ is abhorrent. I’ll go into this more later on how this really just... It treats male sexual harassment and assault as a fucking joke- Angel’s constant unwarranted flirting is no different from the freaks on IG that send dick pics to underage kids and random women in their dms and fathom that they’re ‘nice’ and have a ‘chance’. Wanna know the creepiest? The candid photo of Husk on Angel’s wall. Something Husk seems horrified about. It’s fangirlish and teenager like at BEST, and obsessive stalker at worst. He’s NOT respecting Husk’s boundaries or feelings. That’s still up despite Husk’s reaction. He still wore the costume despite Husk’s feelings. Angel’s thinking with his dick and it’s such a fucked up message that everyone seems to support just because ‘its FICTION. Theyre in HELL.Theyre BAD people.’ Yeah? Well look at how that’s effecting and warping reality and perspective. It’s glamourising it. Fetishsizing stalking and making it cute. Yer have celebrity or boyband or whatever youre a fan of pics on your wall. NOT your crush. NOT someone who clearly isnt interested or happy with this. If someone who kept commenting on your pictures “sexy” suddenly had a picture of you on their wall, what would YOU think? How would YOU FEEL? Because myself and my own sisters have been in VERY fucking similar situations and it’s traumatic. His paw is even attempting the lens - Angel is crossing his boundaries and not getting the message that Husk doesnt want this. He’s forcing himself onto Husk. Yknow... VAL forced himself on Angel and it ended up in numerous rapes. Angel hasnt raped Husk, but if he wont take no. If he wont respect boundaries. If he only wants Husk to do what he wants but throws a fit when he owes husk - he’s picking up on Val’s bad habits more and more. How are so few - even the very team creating this - not seeing how disgusting this is? Are we only supposed to give a shit if Angels hurt? If so, the message isnt so much of how despicable Val is but how awful it is to upset Angel. Fans constantly blame Husk for being grumpy, annoyed at or rejecting Angel. Look at this real world implication. Not only that but Angel being gay just reinforces one of the worlds most disgusting and inaccurate stereotype of gay men being sexual predators and forcing men to have sex whether theyre comfortable or not. MOST gay men arent like this, and those who are its just because THEYRE shitty people (Jeffree fucking Starr, but look how people ‘stan’ his fuckin behaviour). Val is rubbing off on Angel as much as fiction has a MASSIVE impact on reality - whether we’re willing to admit it or not. Like Val, hes pushing past boundaries, he’s selfish, hes more into visuals than anything else. It’s one sided, superficial and theres no click. No connection. Be in this situation yourself and seeing this sorta shit becomes second nature to stay alive. Angel even says that most of hells residents are ‘ugly freaks’ yet finds Husk cute. It’s all LOOKS. Who else likes appearances alone? Val. I know this will trigger and upset fans, Ive been told to fucking die and have my ED triggered when I mentioned it before. But accept that all of them have flaws. Everyone irl have flaws. But there’s flaws and then theres a fuckin crime. If Husk was a woman, more people would see the flaw, but even then... Look at many romance movies - not all but many go for opposites attract (science proves this inaccurate irl), stalking, or even sexual harassments and assualts but she falls for him and they end up together. That aint love thats Stockholm with extra steps. Think you’re triggered and upset? Go through this shit - have a history with it happening - and then see some show you love and a comfort character get treated the exact same and everyone JUSTIFIES it, including the team themselves. It’s NOT cute. Part 2 to the previous point: Both do share common interests, but it’s very unhealthy such as excessive drinking, both being addicts and being rather lazy, etc. Otherwise the common ground just isnt good. They’re opposites that really dont compliment each other. (Not a valid point here but I find it interesting how Angel loves aquariums and Husk can fly too). Viv’s writing is mediocre at best (but with glowing potential - a diamond in the rough - hence why it’s so frustrating) but Husk’s writing is the laziest. According to Viv he’s (paraphrased) “easiest to write... doesnt care about anything, almost always grumpy leading to similar reactions to everything”. His voice and alcoholism even has a lot of inspiration from Rick Sanchez. As I said with Angel in the RadioDust post, it’s almost like the addictions are seen as a joke. A running gag is fine if you can play it off well and it’s not about something so serious EVEN MORE SO when the series is about how damaging the addictions are and redemption. Why is this end goal being ignored unless it’s about Angel himself? That’s not just favouritism or bias, that’s also heavily self indulgent and a backwards ass message. Right now, Hazbin and Helluva have this ugly fixation on sex and ships. VIV has a fixation on ‘horny demons’. Her main characters are incredibly sexual bar Al (dont even say Husk, Niffty, Charlie or Vaggie or even loona and Moxxie are even on par with the focus and treatment Val, Angel, Blitz and Stolas are given). It’s very fixated and concerning. Its starting to feel like it’s about to divulge into hentai than a legit series with even a hint of the plot or a message. It reminds me of Family Guy trying to be BoJack. It’s starting to remind me of fucking Sausage Party and the final orgy. Sex and swears makes it inappropriate for kids but that doesnt make it adult or mature, and this is coming from someone who swears more than a fucking sailor whos stubbed his bare pinky toe on a fucking crate corner. Constant swears arent funny or artful in the slightest when it’s over done. It’s just... childish adult humour. We cant be expected to want to root for any of them at this rate- All A24 and other companies are seeing is big cash and easily manipulated child audiences (for easy money). They KNOW it can be better but theyd rather be lazy as they’ll profit big either way. This is going to end up like YanSim and YanDev. Amazing potential, shit writing with a leader too stubborn to accept and act on criticism, seeing it as hate. At this point, Husk isnt a deeply troubled man with vices and interests. He’s just fuck candy and romantic end goal for Angel. To compliment and complete him. Just another accessory to the Angel Show. Vivs sister who made Husk even loves Angel so it’ll only serve to further this already toxic narrative. The ship doesnt look or feel right. There’s too much established now to see the dynamics and favouritism in the creators. Self indulgence. You cant play favourites when you do this sort of thing professionally. The audience can see it and it turns people away. Ask any nonHaz/Helluva fan what they think and it’s... Well, average. Another thing is everyone went full hype on Frozen focusing on something other than romance as a form of love. But then go back to “Ok now everyone reenact the final scenes of Sausage Party” afterwards. Not everything is sex and romance, and it really is starting to feel Viv and the fans are focused on that like Incels focusing on ‘chad’. It’s creepy. Helping with food, telling someone self conscious on their weight that they’re not fat, not taking more money than someone owes, even helping out with a pet - that’s something that a good friend would do. In fact, Husk even laughs at the goofy Angel cutout and it being destroyed. It doesnt instantly equate to wanting to fuck. The fact that the fans and even some of the team seem borderline horny is... Completely destroying this show, it’s message and everything about it. Viv said ships were hardly the focus in her stream but look at it now. Look at what Viv focuses on now. It’s just fanservice shit. Nothing more. Self indulgence shit, look at the team making rape into a fetish or shipping themselves publicly with the characters on the public IGs. It’s like watching children run a business and it’s painful because the entire series is suffering when it could be amazing. Friendship should be more normalised as a valuable type of relationship just as much as love or family are. I’ll also add that Husk adding after the show “Oh fuck... Is this what I missed? Shit.” is ooc like the ‘date’ (that was compensation for stolen drinks, like a tamer version of Blitzo fucking Stolas for the grimoire). It contradicts that he slept it off rather than an attempt at staying awake, as well as calling it a “god damn peepshow” implying a repulsion to the peverse tendencies. The constantly commenting, following and posting Angel related pics makes little sense either from someone who’s blatantly been sexually harassed as well as the clear repulsion of the candid pic on the wall. He outright rejected Angel. What would be realistic are the IGs focusing on learning about the characters, their lives and interests - ALL updating at realistic paces. Old men arent tech savvy usually nor care for social media that much. He’d post drinks, gambling, casinos, life with Niffty and Alastor. Heck maybe a picture of Angel captioned “When will this guy leave me the FUCK alone?”. He even only seems to tag angel, even in the pic that had Charlie and Vaggie [their shared account] or Niffty. Theres a CLEAR bias in the staff room and it’s messy. Look how most the female cast is ignored (Vaggie/Charlie, Velvet who posted a birthday gift to one of the new artists on the merch WHY? Gasu btw, Niffty, Millie only posting twice - heck even Vox and Loona sometimes get neglected. CLEAR. BIAS.) The ships focused on are 1) NOT established canon yet publicly favoured by Viv and the team (Stoliz, HuskerDust, VoxVal - that last pair havent actually got a VA either-), 2) Are TOXIC and theme around abuse or sexual harassment but it’s ‘cute because gae’ - NO. This makes gay people look really bad when they’re not. 3) HD and SL focus on one sided, stalkerish, cop out ‘tsundere’ excused ships to sugar coat the creepiness which only further fuels bigotry, 4) SL has MERCH on it now, so thats also profiting on sexual harassment imagery (again, dont give a shit they arent real - the EFFECTS are. The people who can relate ARE. The people being horridly stereotyped ARE). Thing is, the IGs originally were there to promote ADDICT which started as a fan song anyways despite everyone saying how Viv is stubborn in her ways an uninfluenced by her fans (proof says otherwise) yet shes allowed a fan song to be canon. Theres a focus on forced love for fanservice. The IGs have long outstayed their welcome. The Val account allows glamourisation of the sick shit Val does AND entinses fans to bully as they forget a REAL PERSON runs the fucking account, Val isnt even a scary villain either - hes just a big teen like everyone else - stuck in a teen drama with all this. Pimps are smart. Theyre scary. Theyre masters of manipulati- HOW DO THEY NOT DO THE RESEARCH?! Viv wanted this sense of realism and dealing with sensitive topics in one of the worst executed ways Ive ever seen- It’s toxic. It’s dangerous. These are shit messages and your fans display that when they think all criticism is ‘hAtE’ and actively bully real people w REAL EXPERIENCES. Telling them to ‘stop pls’ does fuck all because you still promote shit messages straight after. Like with Stolas to Blitz in a IG story a day after Ep 2. Classy. Fanservice seems desperate to keep these fans (rather than market correctly... Just like YanDev) and it leads to fans feeling like they have the audacity to steer the series. Poor business with WEAK boundaries. Viv, you lost your series a long time ago. Want it back? LISTEN TO LEGIT CRITICISM. Stop surrounding yourself with yes men. Even my best fucking friend calls me out when Im out of line because a real friend will fucking take the chance of hurting your feelings if it means helping you in the long run and grow. Mick joked about the inside of Husk’s ears matching Angels coat, that the ears are cat’s most sensitive and vulnerable parts. 1) Cats vulnerable part is their tummy - hence why you need their trust first (alternatively yer get the odd cat that has full confidence they cat hurt you a lot faster than you can tickle them - I own one), 2) Its weird that Viv doesnt know this considering how many cats she has - its important to learn the language of those you love to give them your full understanding and a great bond 3) This romanticises sexual harassment more than it already is in the media (remember, theres women out there still murdered for saying no!) as well as reinforces the stereotypes of gay men forcing non-interested men into sex (again, a very toxic and unrealistic trope - a dangerous one thats led to gays being murdered!). And the ears design is unnecessarily overly complex considering those fuckin wings he supports. If the design adds nothing to the character but aesthetic, then it can go on the chopping block. Rules for simple animation. Besides from Angel sharing the same tooth as Val (who knows if that was added after he started working for Val as branding?) you could use this argument to say Pent or Al are soulmates for Angel because of having striped suits, or sharp teeth - no, it was intended as a joke that Viv fueled to irresponsibly because it’s not the first time she’s dodged publicly addressing something (something youll NEED to get used to in a big company), and she’s publicly dodged shit after this too so Im not putting faith in her until she can act professionally as the job requires. Likewise, professionals should consider what and how they joke as they’re presenting an image of a company/business. And people WILL eat that shit up face value regardless. In her stream #2, a fan requests for art of flustered angel and smug husk to fuel their ship. at 2:10:21, she does so. She’s also done this for Baxter x Niffty and Cherri x Tom. As a professional, you really should be avoiding this sort of thing in the name of fanservice. I get it, fanservice = financial gain. But it also results in empty meaning. It’s a shell of what the passion project once was, hence why you make the ENTIRE skeleton before involving others. The team help construct the muscles, tendons and organs. The public - moreso critics and the more experienced in those fields help sew the skin. Then you bring it to life, the fans become like blood. They aid to keep it alive. Even Ash and Mick mention Husk being ‘tsundere’. Im had most my piece about it earlier, however I’ll repeat and add some extras. Tsundere is an exaggerated personality, often used in younger characters. In terms of a relationship, it’s very immature, leads to poor communication and results in a toxic love. Science can back this up as well as the lack of realism. It’s more immature minds/hearts that go to what they interpret as tsundere in hopes of the love life the media portrays. A farce. Y’know what Angel needs? Someone open, honest, open to love and comforting. He doesnt need someone rebuffing and him chasing. It’s nothing more than an immature thrill. Once the love begins, it’s burns out QUICK. It’s far from sustainable or healthy. It’s not what either really need and further show Angel’s fixation on men who subconsciously remind him of his father. It’s not healthy. Another thing is a tsundere actually IS interested but shows it in the most immature and childish means possible. Would a really old bloke actually give a shit to play those sorts of games? No. Not one coming from a place like husk has. It’s painful how lacking in research and experience these people are. Science backs up that opposites solemnly attract also. In fact, they often either repel or only get as far as friendship. Fan and Team Mentality in Brief: Im coming out with my ultimate pet peeve: if you’re going to have one of the MAIN characters be a gambler, do your research. The only background shit is a casino, LOADS of sex references (in Pride? Really?) and drugs. It’s like someone listing what they think is adult and tabboo and naughty. It’s yikes. Cards are almost always aces, 2s or blank. MOST are heart suits (like we need MORE red - we get it, it’s hell. But it’s an immature larvae stage hell). I get 2s and aces being easier to animate, however you have Husks wings, the entire of alastor, angels arms - if youre busting the budget for the menial then bust it to the cards. Theres like ONE spade. The full house isnt a full house (here’s a display of the fans lack of education on the matter as well which serves as a sure sign that they know just as little on any of this as SpindleHorse, they think it’s a sign on him being a card cheat. A card cheat. I aint saying hes not but what I AM saying is poker professionals are some of the most observant people in the world. Especially when money’s involved they’ll ensure youve got your facts right. That wouldnt fly at ALL. But theres more~ fans think Husk spent loaaaads of time staring at angel’s face in the IG poker out of <3 Newsflash. When you play poker you read EVERYONE like a book. Every little twist and twitch of the features. Its not about love. It’s about winning. Its about money. Play enough poker and it’s instinct if you want to actually play decently. Call bluffs. Life aint a fuckin romance.) And playing Poker at a BlackJack table? In a casino? These are all common knowledge and basics if you just research. And this is coming from someone with a history of this. The fans even believed Tipsy Bartender’s ‘Peach Princess Cocktail’ was something Spindlehorse made as a beverage form of Niffty, Angel and even Charlie because of the name. Now, Im not expecting everyone to be a fuckin boozy either, but to not even consider it’s a very real drink does show that many fans are far too young for that 18+ label. Fanart of HD often has Husk being OOC OR being held hostage (often via webs - one even being reblogged by Viv, aint that cute!). Some even have Husk completely intoxicated, which would be rape. Im not sugarcoating it. Because too many are getting the sweet treatment and copying Viv’s ‘dont address and it disappears!’ tactic - A LOT of internet celebs do it. The ship is drawn a lot by the team in the public eye, Viv reblogs it publicly (SL, HD, alongside canon only ships, how curious-). Husk is pan yet doesnt behave as the stereotype. And Id FULLY support this with my fucking SOUL (fun fact: you cant sell a soul. Thats myth to scare people-) if it was done correctly. But the way bisexuals, lesbians, gays and aces are portrayed so stereotypically (even Pan in terms of Val’s sexomania), it’s really REALLY uncomfortly coming across as Husk being pansexual JUST to make him an ‘option’ for Angel. Hell even the hets are given a shite representation. Some art btw has husk tricked into a kiss. Cute, we’re really starting to like blurring consent aint we? Remember, Angel has celeb power in his world. In the real world, he has a following. HE has the power in the ship massively. Hell, fans JUSTIFY Angels behaviour and absolutely rip Husk a new shithole if he fuckin even so as to DARE OPPOSE ANGELS MUCH DESERVED LOVE! - sarcasm because I have to make that shit clear now. Fans dont care about Husks feelings, he wasnt even popular until this ship started to explode. Y’know what would be cool and break stereotypes? An old straight white guy actually accepting his friends sexualities. The pan thing feels really fucking gimicky and exploitive and gross based on the history of all this shit. It feels disingenuine. Representation doesnt come from it just being there. What next? Katie whips on blackface to further show shes a bigoted knobhead whos white and straight? Dont get me wrong, Katie’s an arsehole but theres other means to show this rather than ALL HETS HATE THE BIG GAE. They dont. They really dont. But hey, we’ll show a gay man sexually harass every guy and root for him! NO. Thats fucked up. It makes gays look like the predators theyre not. It’s like the fucking 50s with modern tech - is that the real identity of Vox? Fuckin maybe. WHAT THEY NEED - FUCKING FINALLY, ITS THE END IVE BEEN ON THIS SHIT FOR DAYS WHILST SICK LUCKY ME EH? CAN YER FEEEEEEEL MY TIREDNESS OF FANDOMS AND CREATORS EXCUSING SHITTY THINGS FOR CLOUT, MONEY, FAME AND OTHER DUMB SHIT? IF YOU CANT, THEN WHAT THE FUCK, AND OTHER NEWS: Right. Lets get our main shit. Compatibility between the pair is really low - lower than even the team seems to see. And yer old fart of a Hag here’s gotta use my personal suffering as an example because thats what the cool kids do, right? Their friendship compatibility is high. VERY high. But low for love. HEALTHY love. In terms of convo flow, it only has a river when insults are flying, otherwise Husk actively cuts Angel short or outright annoys him. In reality, someone like Husk would gross out Angel, but the cute cat look can turn that the fuck around - JUST the look. Fans and the team oddly think it’s cute though. Yes, I remember being negged at the bar and thinking “BOY arent my pants flooded like the fuckin planet when the ice caps are melting”. There’s no click. Theres infatuation and lust one sided based on looks. Husk isnt even remotely interested and no means delayed yes apparently. Angel as a rape VICTIM should know better than to blur consent like this. Angel isnt a rapist [for the skim reading raging stans ANGELS NOT A RAPIST, YAAAAAY!] but he sure has a shit grip on when he’s looking like Val when Val forced Angel into a kiss by not accepting rejection. It’s. CREEPY. Its fuckin weird. Husk is literally named after being a shell of his former self, I doubt random sex and forced interest is gonna make him spring to life like bastard Zeberdy from the Magic Pissin Roundabout. Honestly, sexual harassment and addictions are treated the same in this - a joke. A punchline. A gag. Sure makes me fuckin gag. Nah, the more healthier Chaggie relationship (needs work on Charlies damn part - dont let freaky taxidermy men sexually assault your life partner like that) is booooring, lets focus on sexual harassment leading to true love like all the other shitty romcoms shall we? Or sugar coat it with ‘getting to know them better <3′ like Beauty and the Beast. A story, by yours truly: My mom’s mates with this woman. Lets call her M because her name starts with an M. M is just like Angel except slightly older, overweight and disabled - so not everyones cup of tea visually (shes neither here nor there to me imo, not like I hold interest in shaggin her). Like Angel, she fuckin flirts with any ANY man around her. She’ll even touch without consent, rub allllll up and down their backs and bodies, and not leave them alone. She even did this with a few gay men. Shes not a horrible person BUT mom and I are constantly trying to stop her and get through her head how DISGUSTING this treatment is. But nothing gets the message across. Shes ALWAYS talking men and sex and has an on/off fling with this one bloke (dont worry, hes the male M, cheats and does the same as her). Everyone, even women, are uncomfortable with this. Irl it’s desperate and a HUGE repellent. Men are visibly SO uncomfortable. She does it to my father too who is - in case youd forgotten - MARRIED TO HER BEST. FUCKING. FRIEND. My father is not a man of fear (and interestingly, hes one of the real life Huskers I know!) but this woman? *insert Heavy bc why tf not* She scares him. My dad does everything in his damn power to pull away, reject, resist, avoid and cut her off. The only reason hes even nice to her at all is because mom likes her (when M isnt a gross hornbag, shes genuinely a good friend to my mother - much like angel and Cherri). My dad’s strictly banned from insulting her or telling her to fuck off from my mother BECAUSE of her nature with him. Even at her non horny times, he’s even said shes not his flavour. I’ve had numerous accounts like this myself (ask any woman-) but the worst was the guy thinking - THINKING - that Id eventually be his whilst he played up a lot of our similarities up, seemed nice and I actually thought I had a good guy friend (put it this way, Im genuinely scared of men because of guys like this). At this time, there was a character I discovered who looks and behaves SO much like me, and shes married. My simping arse for this fictional BEAUT [Im sorry but Iris is fucking awesome] compared her romantic traits towards Olgerd as something Id do - and this was a STATUS. It wasnt even too him, tagging him, nothing. I was just spamming Iris like the Iris whore I am, and... Yep. Ill be honest and say that God only knows what else I did that made him think I was ready to rip off my clothes and shag him. My post history back then showed Im like this when I find a character I relate to. I also send hearts a lot publicly and to friends to express joy - I get NERVOUS how that’ll be taken now. He tried to pit my ex friend and I against each other for him and even cyberstalked us pretending to be a girl named Raven. My GUT told me this aint no bastard ‘Raven’. The vibes he gave me, and the fact when I kept saying no he took it as a delayed yes (He even said “Ill wait for when youre ready” not “I understand and am happy to still be friends”) gave me literal nightmares of this guy tracking me down and raping me. He’s currently dating that ex friend (I was still willing to be their friend and support them but they said it was hard to keep us separate in her lifes and she didnt want conflict, so I cut it off amicably with her and I fuckin hope he treats her right. I even sensed in my gut she’d like him and he’d like her - even that theyd be good together! But then I found she was 17 and he was 10 years older, that he was cyberstalking and pitting us against each other, that he was secretly an arrogant fuck and that he gives off red flags like her ex’s - but shes passed 18 now and I want to trust her as an adult that she can deal with this. Shes got a good family.) As a kid, Ive been fuckin groped at school in my shitty neighbourhood. One kid even harassed me wanting to know if Id started my periods yet. Hed constantly fondle girls and ‘keg’ them aka yank down their skirts or trousers in public, and 2 years later held a fucking KNIFE to my throat in a classroom with the shittiest substitute teacher, all because I stood up to him (I was not known for my bravery at school so). He was harassing my female friend who suffers from it since as well as her upbringing, bullying her and stealing her stuff. Shes TINY. She was bullied just as bad as I - who was somehow both the school ghost AND pariah somehow- - and I stepped in and told him to cut that shit out before snatching her things back. I told her to ignore the desperate prick. Thats when he took a boxcutter and held it to my throat, threatening me to keep my head down. Now my neighbourhood fucking qualifies as the British ‘hood’ but Id been lucky to avoid this. Ironically, I wondered what this situation would be like a year prior. Im convinced I can fucking foresee bad shit now and with anxiety that aint good. I froze mentally and I just said “Wooow, Im fucking scared- *friends name*, ignore him” and continued my work. I fucking mentally kicked myself for speaking but I genuinely didnt know what to do. Obviously not fucking that. He sat the full TWO HOURS at our table with this knife, jolting forward mockingly and switching who he pointed it at. The knife btw was from that very room as it was graphics and art. Teacher didnt even notice though honestly Ive had an entire class throw shit at me and call me a whore and the teacher in that class looked at me and TURNED AWAY. End of the day, I reported it to my actual graphics teacher when he returned and he told me he’d take this higher up and to get my parents. My home was only 5 minutes away but I had to walk alone when most the students were gone AND through a fucking alleyway. I always walked with my head low but that day I kept it high and tried to look brave because I genuinely thought he was waiting for me. That he was going to rape and kill me because he’s a pervert and Id just discovered a fucking violent one at that. I broke down at my door. Do you know how fuckin hard it is to look your parents who are dealing with two cancer patients and other issues in the eyes and tell them their ‘little girl’ had a knife to her through for standing up for herself? We went back, I described everything and even remember the yellow-orange handle just to get this kid punished? I even wrote an official police statement (well, the written witness account they add to their statement and evidence) and had to speak on mine and my friend’s behalf because she was that shook up. I never even used to speak for myself! He got expelled, but yknow what us jolly folk dealt with? Hearing kids and his mates mumbling about the ‘rat’ and how much of a cunt they were. Teachers and kids praise him for his art skills and even pin them on display EVERYWHERE (one - ONE - was a fucking self portrait and none of the staff seemed to find issue in that) and even an occassion where he came back into the school when he legally wasnt (trespassing). Do you know how hard it is to fucking avoid someone without raising suspicions from everyone around you in a narrow corridor? Im TALL too. I got NO support from this and felt on edge because he could easily sneak into school. I couldnt say shit because his stupid ‘spies’ were about. Just typing this is upsetting enough- I also know a rl Angel who’s like him minus the sexual harassment. She’s... I never used to like her and visa versa but we actually get along really well now, even though she can be creepy and perverse- But she wouldnt be my type either nor I with her. Often we really fuck each other off but we can also bond great. Another incident reminds me of Husk’s candid photo. Ive had people keep my photo despite me saying not to however I had someone SOMEHOW at that school one the fuck up that. There was a cut out from a magazine of a lady who looked like my DOUBLE except she was asian. Now I thought this was cool and it made me feel sorta pretty. This one girl showed everyone and the teacher, pretty much everyone was like “Oh shit that really is you, C!” and it was harmless fun at first. Until I wanted the picture. Again, this woman looked EXACTLY like me. Yet this girl refused and said she wanted to keep it and even carried it around in her pencil case. Yes it wasnt me but due to the similarities, this photo was called me (tbf the fuckin pic got more respect than I did-). This isnt the only creepy instant between me and this girl but the photo reminds me of it. And this tops people keeping photos OF me which happened in primary school. This was me but legal at that time. And asain. It was super fucking neckbeardy the way she treated this photo and stared, often stroking it and looking at me. I just hope she was only trying to scare me. Theres one final instance of a sexual assault but Im just not yet ready to be public about it. 2 here already know. Those are some of my rl experiences and more to come (unfortunately) that show these behaviours in real life. It seems - it comes across - that sexual harassment, MORE SO TOWARDS MEN, is seen as some punchline and not something legitimately horrifying or dangerous. It’s not cute. It’s fucking FAR from it. Ive already mentioned how putting two addicts together can lead to relapsing, dependence on each other in an unhealthy way. And Ive even mentioned what Angel needs in a relationship in the RD post. Luckily for you, I’ll copy and paste it here: “ We need to think about where both are mentally. What benefits would a relationship give both? How would they be good and bad for each other? For Al, aside from his outdated views and being a fucking murderer and narcissist, he actually seems in a good mindspace for a relationship IF he opted to be in one. Angel however has a very immature mindset, likewise is in a phase of life where hes bed hopping. IF he were to be in a relationship, I’d say he needs a male equivalent of Cherri - someone with a similar mindset yet some differences, willing to have fun and in touch with their younger side, down to cuddle, open to share and receive love as well as not afraid to publicly be affectionate with him, someone who sees him as more than just for sex, someone fun, someone who’ll let him embrace his cutesy side publicly without shame - Cherri is younger so maybe someone who’s his age or slightly younger perhaps? I think Angel’s not retirement home ready to settle and needs someone on his level that can cuddle and chill as well as feels free and youthful enough to go wild with him. In one sense, he’s got a teen girl sorta mindset (dont put him with a teen though, it’s fuckin weird-). He needs someone positive and raw, someone to let him be himself as well as someone comfortable to be themselves around him. He has a habit of latching onto unobtainable men (in psychology, this is self sabotaging subconsciously): Travis the client, Val a pimp, Husk (emotionally unavailable and needs HEAVY self work - interestingly far more than Angel - plus he’s still onto his last relationship and an addict to gambling and alcohol), Pent who’s the enemy he was currently fighting (inappropriate timing), Alastor who’s not interested in another but his own needs [selfish, VERY bad for a relationship]. Subconsciously he’s self sabotaging on purpose. There’s many psychology books as well as sources online for this, if you’re interested. Either way, Angel is drawn to men either like his father [who dislike him, shun him, or are otherwise cold, abusive or just blatantly dislike or otherwise dont care about him] or anyone with money to fuel his drug addiction/’debt’ to Val. Going with any of these men isn’t a good idea. Preferably, Angel needs someone who he doesnt immediately crush and obsess over. Someone who he doesnt sexually harass or assault. Someone he can build a connection with quickly that can bud into romance (think how Chaggie started as a friendship which clicked immediately). Maybe even someone he doesn’t expect to fall for but does so anyways. It would be more realistic as Viv wants as well as more healthy. That for once he isnt sex or money craved instantly, thus doesnt sexually harass/assault and is given a proper chance to develop and grow a friendship and love. Someone who isnt an addict. Someone with an on-par mindset where they click. Someone open to love. For any chance of a good relationship, Angel needs to be with anyone BUT who we’ve already seen. There’s too much toxicity that’ll be swept under the rug and justified otherwise. Too much shit to fuel homophobes in terms of gay stereotypes. Even though Ive focused a fair bit on Angel, it’s NOT just about Angel. That’s something fans forget. Some he depends on or someone who depends on him in the long term wont last and will be very dangerous to both. Just because you suffer, you dont then deserve to be rewarded with ‘something nice’. You dont get to have everything youve ever wanted. Giving him any of these blokes [minus Val] gives him a pass. Gives him what he wants. I get Viv loves him but life doesnt work that way. True lasting growth comes from learning that. Acceptance and growth. You dont get everything you want and sometimes thats a GOOD thing. He’s not a spoilt kid who gets everything he asks for, he’s YOUR creation. If you really wanted what your creations deserve then you need to research and be realistic with it. Because hes starting to feel like a shitty Gary-Stu at this rate.” Sorry for that copypaste clusterfuck. Copy paste is not my forte lol Now Husk. Remember Big? Probably not after the info overload, but if you do GREAT. Big needed love, patience, understanding, someone who could help him, someone who understood and respected his boundaries. I spent so much damn time and now he cuddles up and exposes his tummy because I make him feel understood, loved and safe. He NEVER purred or meowed (why would he need to meow when he didnt speak to humans?) but now he does. He lives on the streets of a neighbourhood with rough folk. He used to draw blood and go rabid on my arms. But I was patient and showed him that I understood his reasons but that he was safe with me and had no need to strike out. I never pushed his boundaries let alone doing it multiple times (the rl angel I know is fucking skilled at pushing cat’s boundaries and wonders why they all huddle up to me and avoid her lol). Husk is an unavailable man. Romantic/Sexual love does NOT heal his wounds. But thats the only thought fans and the team have given on his side. He needs love to ‘fix’ him. The WORST reason to get with someone. Theyre not a project and you arent a fucking miracle worker. Treat them as an equal. He needs a good friend. JUST a friend. Like Big, he needs patience, trust, understanding, and extensive help (arguably more intense than Angel’s). He needs to love himself a bit more FIRST. Someone who respects his boundaries INSTANTLY. Someone relatable and similar, open to love not just sex and not as troubled (if they are, they need to handle it way better, healthily and overall be in a good mindspace). Viv can ship whatever the fuck tickles her fancy, but once your passion project becomes public and funded, you have set responsibilities on how to address and handle sensitive issues as well as having to accept criticism. If Husk goes sober in the name of love (ESPECIALLY with the guy not respecting his boundaries and sexually harassing him), then it’s a fucking INSULT to alcoholics. I know a few rl Husks but there’s one that anyone who knows me enough knows the man I hold closest to my heart was an alcoholic and spitting of Husk. That’s why Husk’s character means so much to me. But there’s only 2 here who know a bit more of this man. This is something Id hoped to not share so soon, nor as messy. And Im already getting waterworks because this is FAR from easy. I guess Husk became the very thing *I* needed in order to face this. This man was my grandfather. WAS. I cant even fucking accept that. I was a fucking child. I feel stupid being so open about this over some stupid cartoon but it just shows the real life effects this has on REAL fucking people. This man was old and lonely. Always at the pubs. He taught me card games, card tricks and card magic as well as one of his own sons dealing with a gambling addiction. I feel so fucking stupid crying about this- I dont want to open up but its the only way I feel I can get people to understand my side in all of this. This man was a fucking MESS. A closed off, lonely, grumpy old bastard. He lost his love because of his alcohol addiction and never found love again. Never got over that woman. (Shes still kicking and we’re close - im keeping some things under wraps between them as its not my place). Gave up on life and love. Worked hard at his fixation on cards and puzzles, as well as crass jokes and knowledge. But he was very lazy otherwise. Bitter and angry. And you know what? He was my world. I love this man with every fiber of my being because he was the first person to love and accept me for me. He treated me as an equal and helped me grow as a person. In fact... He was only ever happy around us kids. He had hope again. Protected me. He used to hate gays and blacks and you know what? He taught HIMSELF as to why that was shitty thinking. He taught ME about differences in people and to accept it. He taught me that you dont always have to understand to accept. He taught me poker and... swears admittedly. He was a beautiful soul that was broken inside. He needed to love himself. But you know what actually fucking happened? You know what I watched as a kid? I watched as he smoked until every morning he woke throwing up phlegm just to BREATHE. I watched as sometimes the light in his eyes died and through smoke breaks and early drinking how he’d sometimes slip and show me his pain. And we’d have deep talks about it and the world and everything. How alcohol ruined his life yet he craved it. His scent. I remember arguments I wasnt supposed to overhear and growing up seeing him fucking DIE slowly in a hospital bed. The man he was ended up as a fucking husk. His skin was bloated and purple, he was half machine on how much shit he was hooked up to. How he was barely a man at all. He was dying of cancer and he fucking knew and never told us. His cancer meds gave him horrid hallucinations. And I practically spent most of my time in that hospital because TWO people had cancer. Two stunning people had fucking stupid bastard cancer. He was a fuck up. He was flawed to shit. But seeing glimpses of the real him was a fucking ethereal experience. He made me feel like a PERSON. And all we could do in the end was watch him just die. He WANTED to die and you could see it but hed only eat around us to fake fight out of his own hubris and not wanting to let us down. That year, I watched 2 of the only people who ever gave a shit about me die the most dishonourable deaths God could have gave them. Years prior I watched his son gamble EVERYTHING away - his lover, his house, his everything. Hes a moderate gambler now with a partner who never had a history of any addiction. She helps keep him in line as he helps her. But most nights I fucking dream of this shit. I cant even think about my hero because I fucking weep. I still have nightmares. Im still up thinking how I could have saved him from himself when it’s him who was the only one able to. I have to live my life with those memories and I was just a kid. Im a full woman and Im still haunted by it. Even that year is blasphemy and I fucking hate it. I want to take him in my arms, hold him and tell him he’s enough. That its ok and he can get through this. Anything that reminds me of him, I love because I know the other side. The real side. The side not tethered to vices. When I see people like that, I pray they see themselves like that too and I want to help them see it. Tell them that they can live again. It’s better than fucking decaying in a hospital bed. That when people make this sorta shit into a cute quirk it’s not. And it’s dickheads like me who have actually seen it play in the real world to REAL people they love. They arent a fucking accessory to fix for your own narrative. They arent a fuckin performing monkey. At least with Rick and Morty it’s kinda humorous and never played for some shitty toxic ship to appeal to everyone who’s never had to face that shit themselves. And Im like my old man but with more hope and no addiction. I drink and I gamble but I’ll never let myself get that low. Because I honour him but Im not as fucking saft. I wont allow it even though it’s a fucking battle. Those addictions are in the blood. My family history. Its always been so fucking normal. I’ll never knock someone for an addiction or try to preach them out of it because theres often pain fueling it, but I’d never encourage it or toxic faux cures and stupid romance promises as some bullshit MLM remedy either. I KNOW it’s fiction but I want people to see the real side. I want VIV to see the real side. Id willingly for FREE fucking sing that shit if it meant spreading a good message. Because this is fucking hell. FIXING IT: The ship’s basis is too set in stone now - too familiar to change. Best is to never let it be canon. Because you know what else it teaches? That rOmAnCe cures all. Not therapy. Not rehab. Not any REAL work. Just fuck and date it all away as if it’s that easy. It’s a mockery! I tried to be professional about this but when the media bombards this shit constantly, the has the AUDACITY to play like it’s giving a good message is salt to the wounds. A kiss with a fist. An old man dont care for the petty teen drama that Angel and Cherri (even fuckin Al) thrive on. Want this to send a good message still? Angel hates rejection and thinks everyone wants him. Have Husk reject him. Especially because no one should go out with someone whos sexually harassed them there. Been there, done that got the fuckin tshirt. Have Husk reject Angel the way Gravity Falls has Wendy reject Dipper. It helped Dipper move on and mature, and this is what Angel needs for growth and to be more humble. Husk would be a fucking excellent mentor to Angel, a friend and protector, someone who shows him the ropes like Grunkle Stan like a grandfather figure. To not fall for his mistakes. Husk would be a better expert than any of them plus it balances the power dynamtic. It’s healthy and realistic. Touches the topic with the sensitivity it needs. Not everything needs a ship or romance. Wounds healed that way dont stay healed long. Angel seems more fitting as a son like figure, and he can play that dad like role for him. And if any of the team EVER saw this, fucking take this idea. Its YOURS. FREE. FOREVER. If we wanna play this NDA but still reblog some of the story telling arts and have some of our team indulge in it. I wont sue. Fucking TAKE IT if it means doing this shit right because Spindlehorse have beautifully triggered so many different people and their different traumas to please teenagers sexual fantasies, their own kinks and for a jolly good joke. This is a bastard long read and Ive had to face the traumas again but if good can come from it then I’ll GLADLY dance this duet again. Stans, Antis, dont even TEMPT interaction. You arent brave sending suicide threats behind a screen, youre a coward and a waste of oxygen. I WANT Hazbin and Helluva to succeed. I want Viv and her crew to do well. Trust me, I wouldnt waste my time if I didnt give a shit. Viv is fucking gifted and its being wasted if it’s not at her full potential for the approval of a rabid army of kids and immature adults who dont know any better (stans and antis). I know she would like a good and decent fanbase. Stans and antis arent it. Tagging you folks because it’s long but yall actually helped me have the courage to open my trap to this. Screenshots are coming later though all of what Ive said is easily sourced. But this has been days, Im sick, im tired, ive been upset facing my own traumas. If any tags wanna help then by all means but otherwise. @honesthazbinarchives, @siaesnow (also added age still bc despite the lack of physical aging, theres also the mental aspect and experiences as well as power dynamics side to it, in case youre wondering), @noirellearts, @enchantedchocolatebars, @galemalio (thank you for letting me weep like a bitch), @angel-blitz, @critical-hazbin, @what-the-hazbin, @hazboobhotel, @pineapple-critiques-stuff, @devils-advocutie, SORRY AGAIN FOR BEING A LIL BITCH FOLKS, I feel awkward like my teen years but yeah- fuck it Im old and imma rot soon anyways. If this experience can help then Ill be glad.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin critical #anti huskerdust sorry folks #vivienne medrano #criticism #toxic relationships in fiction #how fiction impacts the real world #yeah im a wimp who cares?#hazbin needs to change for the better #concerned fan #dont be another yandev #dont be another yansim #stans and antis dni #stans and antis will be blocked and reported #hope this gives justice to my hero about the rl effects of addiction #rest easy Kiddas got this #still shitting myself #read more wont work sorry

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