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4barbatos · 1 day ago

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✦ forgive me, father (for i came)

venti x dahlia x fem!reader

then had a ménage à trois ...last friday night .ᐟ

cw: threesome (dom!venti & dom!dahlia x sub!fem!reader), spit-roasting, overstimulation, light dumbification, degradation and praise, blasphemous religious themes, rough sex, oral (receiving + giving), light choking, name-calling, drunken decisions, semi-public buildup, reader being very very down bad. idek atp it’s unholy.

a/n: jesus. this fic nearly took me out 😭 had to do actual research on what goes down at an american party bc obviously i’m not american (if u thought i was…… respectfully get out). also i was gonna post this at 2am but i deadass fell asleep mid-edit while “last friday night” was blasting in my left ear.

had this festering in my drafts for like a week because my brain refused to cooperate. finishing it felt like fighting for my life in the trenches, but i’m glad i pushed through bc i kinda love it??? dahlia being a repressed religious perv is sooo real to me. venti has a god complex and i’m not stopping him. man thinks he invented pleasure. praise be.

also! modern college au, everyone’s legal and consenting, and ready to make terrible decisions <3

you didn’t even wanna come to this party.

like, genuinely. you had an exam next week, a half-written paper, and a half-dead social battery. the last thing you needed was to be shoulder-to-shoulder with a bunch of horny undergrads blasting katy perry like it was 2010 and shame didn’t exist.

but your roommate was hot and persuasive and already four shots in when she started dragging you by the wrist.

“i swear,” she slurred, her glitter eyeshadow half-smudged and confidence turned all the way up to eleven, “you need to get dicked down or at least dance, girl.”

you brought a water bottle and wore a thrifted denim short. crop top optional, dignity minimal. you figured you’d hover around the snacks, say no to three drinks, and dip early with your gpa intact.

you weren’t expecting to find god.

or rather — two boys who made you forget him completely.

it started off normal. crowded house, colored leds, somebody grinding to a weeknd remix in the living room. your roommate disappeared ten minutes in, presumably to go make out with that guy from her econ class who looked like he cried after sex.

you were posted by the kitchen counter with your “water” (spiked, probably) and a vague plan to ghost as soon as someone tried to rope you into flip cup.

suddenly you heard a familiar voice, buried under the bass and drunk laughter. something warm and deep, with a laugh you remembered a little too well — like the echo of a bad idea, like the first sip of communion wine that was definitely not grape juice.

you turned your head, scanning through the haze of neon lights and sweaty bodies until you saw him.

“wait,” you said, freezing mid-step. “is that—”

you blinked through the crowd. tilted your head. no fucking way.

“dahlia?”

and like some kind of divine punishment, he looked up right as you said it. head tilted. curls a little longer now. smile the same. pretty as always, just older — more grown into himself. less sunday choir, more sunday morning regret.

you stared. he stared back.

and he smiled. slow. familiar.

“holy shit,” you mumbled. “literal church boy dahlia. the pervert.”

your friend turned her head, already halfway through her third drink. “the what?”

you grinned, cheeks flushed. “he used to moan during prayer.”

she choked. “you’re kidding.”

“senior youth retreat. i was there. it was dark.”

you didn’t mean to talk to him again. not really.

you were supposed to be getting more water — in the loosest sense of the word — and maybe scoping out the snacks before your roommate dared someone to dance on the dining table. but somehow, you ended up pressed near the kitchen counter with him, sipping vodka-disguised hydration and laughing a little too easily against the tune of an early-2000s party playlist.

like the past didn’t hum under your skin.

like you hadn’t spent whole years pretending you didn’t think about his lips when you closed your eyes.

“you still go to church?” you asked, voice looser now, a little slow from the alcohol. your eyes flicked down to the rosary slung around his neck, a glint of silver nestled above exposed collarbones. the chain dipped beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt — a silk one, of course, because dahlia didn’t know how to dress normally.

“every sunday,” he said, tilting his head, elbow resting behind you like he always needed to trap you somewhere. “confession, too.”

you raised a brow. “must be a long-ass session.”

he grinned. “only when i think of you.”

you choked. coughed. wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“you’re disgusting,” you muttered, trying not to smile. “jesus wept.”

“probably because you wore that skirt to sunday school.”

you gave him a look. “you wore fishnets to a baptism.”

“we all have our moments.”

you snorted, flicking his arm. “blasphemous freak.”

he leaned in, mouth close to your ear, voice low: “missed you too, sweetheart.”

you were about to recover — really — when a new voice cut in. higher, smoother, soaked in flirt and casual sin.

“hey,” someone drawled, “who’s your friend?”

you turned your head.

and immediately forgot how to breathe.

the boy standing there looked like temptation had crawled out of a lana del rey song and decided to make itself fashion. crop top riding dangerously high on his waist. eyeliner smudged like he’d fucked and cried in it. messy red eyeshadow painted over his lids like sin. earrings glinting with every lazy tilt of his head. thigh chains. layered necklaces. a smile like he already knew every filthy thought in your head and was ready to make it worse.

he looked at you like a cat watching something twitch.

“venti,” dahlia muttered beside you, voice already tight. “this is y/n.”

venti’s eyes didn’t leave your face. “oh. hi.”

your brain short-circuited.

he tilted his head, smile curling. slow. knowing.

your heart did a little skip. then maybe a cartwheel. maybe a confessional-level sin.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. you blinked, twice, trying to remember how words worked.

venti’s gaze dragged down and up in one unashamed sweep — not even pretending to be subtle. when his eyes met yours again, they sparkled. and then he smiled wider.

dahlia rolled his eyes so hard it looked like a prayer for patience. “she’s mine.”

you scoffed immediately. “she’s not,” you said, turning fully toward him — maybe too quick. maybe too flustered.

venti was still watching you, smug like he’d already won.

your knees wobbled. traitors.

dahlia noticed. of course he did. he stepped in closer, hand ghosting over your hip like he had to remind both of you where you used to belong.

“you’re drunk,” he muttered, low.

“so are you,” you shot back, voice breathier than you wanted.

venti’s grin sharpened like a knife. “i’m sober enough to know i’d make her feel better than your holy hands ever could.”

he took a sip from his red solo cup, and when a drop slipped past his lip, he caught it with his tongue.

your soul left your body.

dahlia made a sound halfway between a scoff and a growl. “you’re going to hell.”

venti shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “with her? gladly.”

you exhaled. shaky. already fucked in the head. already thinking about what it’d be like to be ruined between them — choir boy and chaos incarnate.

you had a paper due monday. a hangover waiting to ambush you. a party full of strangers that wouldn’t notice you disappearing.

and god definitely wasn’t here tonight.

“so,” venti said, stepping closer — dangerously closer — until your shoulder nearly brushed his. he smelled like wine and spearmint and something sweet you couldn’t name. “what brings a girl like you to a party like this?”

“roommate dragged me,” you replied, trying to sound casual. your voice came out thinner than expected. “i have an exam next week.”

“mm. you study hard?”

“i try to.”

he smiled like you just handed him ammunition. “you look like you need a break.”

“she doesn’t need your kind of break,” dahlia muttered, shifting beside you. his palm skimmed the curve of your waist, familiar and territorial.

venti, unbothered, leaned past you to grab a bottle off the counter — something green and half-empty — and poured a finger of it into his cup. he offered it to you with a smirk.

you didn’t take it.

“i’m already drunk,” you said.

“so am i,” he replied, “and yet i’m still making excellent choices.”

“this isn’t an excellent choice,” dahlia said, tugging you a little closer.

“what, sharing a drink or stealing your girl?”

you almost choked.

“i’m not his girl,” you said.

dahlia’s fingers tensed.

venti’s eyes glittered. “well, if you’re not his… can i have you?”

you blinked at him.

and maybe it was the alcohol. maybe it was the way he was smiling like he’d already won. maybe it was the ghost of dahlia’s breath on your neck, the memory of his hands under your skirt at sixteen, the fact that you felt so alive for the first time in weeks —

but you said it. blame the devil, the vodka, the look in venti’s eyes. you said it anyway.

“are you two gonna keep talking,” you asked, voice low, “or are you gonna fuck me?”

a beat of stunned silence.

then —

“dibs,” venti said, instantly, voice light but laced with something that made your spine straighten. “i call dibs.”

“you can’t call dibs,” dahlia snapped, sharp and bristling. “she’s not some fucking prize.”

venti only smiled, stepping closer with that same lazy, dangerous charm. “sure feels like i’m winning something.”

“i talked to her first.”

“you also tried to claim her like a parking space,” venti shot back, glancing at you with a knowing gleam. “she said no, remember?”

you blinked up at them, half amused, half unhinged, stomach doing flips and thighs already pressing tight.

“jesus,” you muttered, “this is the worst threesome negotiation ever.”

venti leaned down a little, voice dropping as he looked you straight in the eye. “oh, love. this isn’t negotiation. this is foreplay.”

you might’ve blacked out for a second. just a little.

then dahlia was suddenly behind you, crowding close enough for his chest to press against your back, one hand low on your waist, mouth right next to your ear.

“say the word,” he murmured, “and i’ll take you upstairs right now. don’t even have to look at him.”

venti hummed. “but she wants to. don’t you, pretty thing?”

you turned to look at him.

his tongue was running along the edge of his bottom lip, slow and knowing, fingers playing with one of his necklaces. he was watching you like a dare. like he already knew what decision you were going to make.

your mouth went dry. your body didn’t.

“you’re both,” you said, exhaling, “so fucking annoying.”

“but hot,” venti reminded, cocky.

“and talented,” dahlia added, already pulling you subtly toward the hallway. “you remember.”

venti’s hand was on your other wrist before you realized it, cool and confident. “i promise i’m better.”

you didn’t even know who led you up the stairs — one of them pushed the door open, the other tugged you inside, both of them crowding close as the music faded behind a slam and the click of a lock.

heat. hands.

someone’s mouth on your neck. someone else’s fingers at the hem of your shorts.

“dibs on her mouth,” venti said, already dropping to his knees, smiling like the devil as he looked up at you.

“you’re such a slut,” dahlia muttered — but he let go.

“i am,” venti grinned, tugging your hips closer. “and she’s about to be, too.”

you barely had time to breathe.

venti’s hands were already gliding up your thighs, warm and smooth, dragging your shorts and underwear down in one practiced, greedy motion. the grin never left his face. not even when he kissed the inside of your knee and said, in the sweetest voice you’d ever heard:

“hold still for me, baby. gonna make you sing.”

you almost said something smart — almost — but then his mouth was on you, and the words evaporated. tongue hot, slow, teasing. his thumbs held your thighs open with a surprisingly firm grip, and then he moaned into your pussy like he’d just tasted something divine.

your knees buckled.

“fuck,” you gasped, one hand shooting out blindly until it hit dahlia’s arm. you curled your fingers into his shirt. “oh my god—”

“told you she’d sound pretty,” venti murmured against your cunt, before licking another long stripe up the center and flicking your clit with his tongue.

“and i told you to shut up,” dahlia muttered, but his voice was hoarse. his hand found the back of your neck, thumb stroking the edge of your jaw as he leaned in to kiss your temple. “you like his mouth, baby?”

you whimpered, nodding helplessly.

��yeah, she does,” venti said smugly. “she’s dripping. such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

you would’ve protested — maybe — but then he sucked, lips wrapping around your clit and tugging just right, and the pleasure hit like lightning.

your hips jerked forward. dahlia caught you.

“venti,” you whimpered, “fuck—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he said sweetly. “let go for me, pretty thing. cum all over my tongue.”

you did.

shaking, gasping, clinging to dahlia’s shirt like a lifeline while your thighs trembled around venti’s head. he groaned, licking you through it, hands firm on your ass to keep you steady.

when it was over, he kissed the inside of your thigh like a reward.

“so sweet,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “might get addicted.”

you were still trying to catch your breath when dahlia gently tilted your face toward his.

his eyes were dark.

“my turn,” he said.

you didn’t realize you were grinding against venti’s mouth until he groaned, loud and thrilled, hands squeezing your thighs to keep you there. your head spun. your hips jerked. he loved it.

“needy girl,” he gasped against you, tongue flicking quick and sharp. “use me.”

you whimpered.

behind you, dahlia cursed under his breath, pushing your bra up to mouth at your tits, teeth grazing your nipple just rough enough to make you jolt. “fuck, baby. so sensitive. you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?”

venti pulled back just enough to grin against your skin. “she’s close.”

“she always was easy.” “she’s perfect.” “she’s mine.”

you gasped, nearly choking on your own breath.

“then why’s she whining on my tongue?” venti said, smug, dragging it over you again — and god, it was filthy the way he moaned like he’d been starved for this, like the taste of you was his favorite kind of poison.

you cried out, trembling hard enough that dahlia had to grip your hips tighter to keep you upright.

“venti—venti—fuck—”

“cum for me,” he said sweetly. “be good and make a mess on my face.”

and you did.

with a cry that split the air, you came hard — shaking, hips bucking, vision dark at the edges. venti didn’t stop. he ate it up, humming, licking through your orgasm like he was trying to memorize it. like he wanted seconds.

maybe thirds.

you barely had time to catch your breath before dahlia was spinning you, lips crashing into yours — rough, messy, starved.

“still mine,” he muttered against your mouth. “she might’ve got you first, but i get to fuck you.”

venti wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes shining. “we get to fuck her.”

dahlia didn’t argue this time.

you were dizzy, your knees barely holding, your pulse still too fast. but you didn’t care.

not when dahlia was walking you back toward the bed, pushing you gently down, stripping you slow like you were something precious and ruined all at once. not when venti crawled up beside you, kissing your neck, your jaw, your collarbone — every inch dahlia wasn’t touching.

“gonna take care of you,” venti whispered, fingers ghosting down your stomach. “you’ll let us, won’t you?”

you nodded. breathless.

“use your words, baby,” dahlia said, already undoing his belt. “what do you want?”

you looked between them — wrecked and warm and starving — lips parted, thighs trembling, mouth slick with spit and want and everything you weren’t supposed to be.

your voice barely came out a whisper.

“…both of you.”

venti beamed. radiant. unholy. like a prayer turned inside out.

“god bless.”

“god hates us,” dahlia muttered, already pushing your thighs further apart, climbing over you like he owned you. “and i’m about to make you forget every prayer you’ve ever known.”

your breath hitched. your whole body keened.

then came the first thrust — deep, deliberate — and the air punched out of your lungs in a messy, wrecked sound.

you didn’t even know whose hands were on you anymore. one gripped your throat just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, another curled around your hip, dragging you back against their pace like you were made for it. venti was saying something — words you couldn’t catch, not when your brain was sliding like honey through your skull — but his mouth was wet and hot and everywhere, his tongue licking into your teeth like he wanted to taste the exact second you broke.

dahlia growled in your ear, low and dark, his grip bruising.

“say it,” he rasped. “say who’s making you feel this good.”

“y-you both—” you gasped, hands scrabbling for anything to hold onto. “fuck, please—”

“aw, look at her,” venti cooed, voice syrupy, cocky, cruel. “can’t even think straight. how many times has she cum already?”

“four,” dahlia grunted. “maybe five.”

“mm. not enough.”

you whimpered as venti dipped between your legs again, tongue unrelenting, too much — too much — but god, you didn’t want it to stop. didn’t want to breathe if it meant they’d stop touching you like this, worshipping you like the altar you were never meant to be.

you moaned — high and helpless — when dahlia’s pace picked up, slamming into you like he was trying to fuck his name into your spine.

venti grinned up at you from between your thighs, lips wet and swollen.

“gonna make her forget the alphabet.”

“already did,” dahlia panted. “she went stupid after the second orgasm.”

you didn’t deny it.

you couldn’t. your brain had been fucked clean out of your head, scrambled like eggs, your only thoughts left were their names and the way they made you feel — raw, perfect, ruined.

and still they kept going. and you let them.

you let them, because you were already too far gone. because your body begged for more even when your mind shattered. because you’d never felt this good. this full. this taken.

because whatever sins you’d committed to get here?

you’d do them all again. twice. in heels.

god was gone. and you were still moaning.

it didn’t matter anymore. not with your legs trembling open, cunt puffy and dripping, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as you moaned pathetically around venti’s cock.

“ohh, look at her,” venti cooed, breath shaky, voice teasing and airy as he fisted your hair. “baby’s all fucked out already, and we haven’t even finished.”

“slut,” dahlia muttered behind you, hands digging into your hips as he snapped his into yours. “you came again, didn’t you? just now. again. fuck—your pussy’s still squeezing like she wants more.”

you whined around venti’s length, eyelids fluttering. your arms couldn’t hold you up anymore. your thighs had given out ages ago. they kept you upright between them — barely — venti’s cock hitting the back of your throat while dahlia was still pounding into your soaked, overstimulated cunt like he was trying to fuck the brain out of you.

maybe he already had.

venti moaned, hips twitching as your lips hollowed around him. “you’re drooling, pretty girl,” he gasped. “so messy. god, i love it. she’s not even blinking, look—she’s gone, dahlia.”

“good,” dahlia growled, pace still brutal. “she wanted to act like she didn’t want either of us earlier. needed a reminder.”

venti chuckled, breathless. “she’ll forget her name at this rate.”

you tried to answer — to say fuck you or i hate you or please or more or something, anything — but your voice was gone, throat raw, thoughts mush.

“mm-mm,” venti murmured, noticing the twitch of your brows. “don’t think. just feel.”

you whined again — this time, deeper. desperate.

dahlia leaned forward, hand sliding up to wrap around your throat from behind. “you gonna cum again for us, sweetheart?” he rasped into your ear, hips still slamming into you. “gonna cream all over my cock like a needy little toy?”

you gasped around venti, tears finally slipping from your lashes.

venti groaned, tilting your head up to look at him. “god, she’s crying,” he whispered. “you’re so fucking pretty like this, y’know that?”

you made a wrecked little noise, drool sliding past your lips as you nodded.

dahlia grunted. “fucking knew she liked it. knew you were a dirty girl the second i saw you in that church dress.”

your cunt clenched violently.

“fuck—again?” dahlia moaned. “she’s—she’s gonna—”

you broke.

legs kicking, arms trembling, a scream caught in your throat around venti’s cock as your body convulsed, heat flashing white as you came hard — your sixth? seventh? you couldn’t tell — clenching so tight around dahlia it made him swear, hips jerking once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt with a groan.

venti whimpered. “ohh, fuck, baby—fuck—gonna—gonna—”

he pulled out just in time, coming hot and fast across your tongue and lips, his hand under your chin to tilt your face up, make you take it. you let your mouth fall open, drool and spit and come spilling messily down your chin.

“that’s it,” he gasped, voice sweet and fucked. “good girl. good fucking girl.”

you whimpered — barely conscious, twitching.

dahlia pulled out slow, watching your slick drip down your thighs. “fuck, look at that mess,” he muttered, thumb brushing your clit just to watch you flinch. “soaked the sheets. hope your roommate’s proud.”

venti collapsed beside you, sweaty and blissed out, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

you blinked at him, dazed. “mmnnh.”

he grinned. “no thoughts. just cock.”

“mission accomplished,” dahlia muttered, flopping beside you on the other side.

you weren’t even sure which of them kissed your shoulder.

you just knew your legs didn’t work, your soul had left your body, and if god had been here tonight —

he definitely left mid-threesome.

you woke up to the sound of someone snoring and someone else — singing.

acoustic. badly. with feeling.

“…living in a material wooorld, and i am a material giiirl—”

your brain hurt. your legs hurt. your entire existence hurt.

you cracked one eye open.

and immediately regretted everything.

venti was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a blanket like some sleep-deprived prophet, strumming an actual guitar (???) you swore nobody had brought to the party. eyeliner smudged halfway to his temples, red eyeshadow still smeared across one cheek like war paint. his lips were shiny — glossy, even. god only knew why.

he grinned when he saw you awake.

“morning, sunshine! you moaned like a pornstar in your sleep.”

you blinked.

rolled over.

and immediately saw dahlia, shirtless, face buried in a pillow, groaning like he had just been born into suffering.

“kill me,” he rasped.

you sat up slowly, blanket clutched to your chest, realizing three things at once:

1. you were wearing dahlia’s shirt. inside out.

2. venti was definitely wearing your bra like a headband.

3. someone had written “slut sandwich” on the fogged-up mirror in lipstick.

“what the actual hell happened,” you croaked, throat wrecked, dignity in shambles, and your legs about two steps away from quitting the entire concept of balance.

“sex,” venti answered brightly from the bed, still shirtless, still smug. “lots of it. possibly illegal in some countries.”

“definitely illegal in a church parking lot,” dahlia added, not even opening his eyes. “and probably a few states.”

you flipped them both off with shaky fingers as you stumbled toward the bathroom, every muscle in your body filing a complaint.

“don’t forget to hydrate!” venti called after you, far too cheerful for a man who’d literally begged to cum in your mouth five hours ago.

you grumbled something about exorcisms and shoved the bathroom door open, clinging to the sink like a war veteran. mascara smudged. knees bruised. bite marks blooming like artwork down your collarbone. you didn’t even want to check your hair.

you’d barely closed the door behind you when you heard:

“hey dahlia?”

“what.”

“did we actually high-five while spit-roasting her or was that just something i dreamed about?”

a pause.

“nah. we definitely high-fived. you yelled ‘teamwork makes the cream work.’”

venti wheezed. “oh my god. i’m hilarious.”

you slammed the bathroom door shut like it owed you money.

god, give me strength, you prayed silently. and maybe a therapist. and a gallon of electrolytes.

…also maybe another round after brunch. if they behave.

a/n: guys imma be honest this only got finished bc of @ventisslut <3 ily mother. bless 🙏 if it weren’t for u i’d probably still be staring at my docs unfinished and untouched (like me)

165 notes · View notes

emeraldserenade · 2 days ago

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hiii i have a request!

bob floyd x reader who is also in the dagger squad, and the team goes to the beach to hang out and play volleyball and bob gets flustered seeing reader in a swimsuit

Beach Bikini ~ Robert "Bob" Floyd

synopsis: All it took was once day at the beach in a bikini, but Robert Floyd was all yours

tw: fem!reader, reader's call sign is Star, reader wears a bikini, Bob throws reader over his shoulder (that man is strong and people can fight me over that), suggestive, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi!! I love this idea so much!! This is my first Bob Floyd request!! This is also somehow my shortest Bob Floyd fic???

➽──────────────❥

Staying in San Diego has it's perks, the constant friends were probably the best part. Yet, you guys never ended up at the beach since the first time with Pete. You were never one to suggest to go, but you had just gotten a new two piece and wanted to wear it. Plus, you'd get really nice tan lines. So you did the only thing you could think of to get everyone to the beach. "Hangman, get everyone to agree to go to the beach, and I'll wear a bikini," you told him after cornering him in a random hallway. He was literally against a wall with you standing so close the toes of your boots were meeting for a little kiss.

"Seriously?" He gave you a once over. You knew ever since he saw you in the tennis skirt and tank top you wore once to bowling, he wanted to see more. You also knew he knew that unless your endless crush on Robert Floyd just suddenly disappeared, he had no chance.

"Mhm, but everyone has to go," you told him, spinning on your heel to leave. You knew you would get to wear your new swimsuit and you couldn't wait.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You found yourself in your coverup walking down the sand to the group you called your friends. They had taken up residence by the volleyball net and you saw that the guys were already in a game. "Hey, Phoenix!" You called over, still a good couple feet away.

"Hey, Star!" Natasha called back.

You had a pretty smile painted on your face and Bob swore his heart stopped. Sure, he had seen you smile before but there was something different about this one. Maybe it's because you were being lit by the sun or maybe it was because Bob's infatuation with you was getting too hard to ignore. But the flowy sundress you wore to cover the swimsuit you were probably wearing and the sunglasses you had perched on the bridge of your nose, made Bob have less than gentlemanly thoughts.

"Yo! Bob! Pay attention!" Mickey yelled, breaking Bob from his thoughts.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You hadn't taken the sundress off since you were too busy watching the boys play volleyball, but soon you and Natasha were being added to the game. "Hold on a minute!" You yelled over, pulling your sundress off.

"Well, shit, y/n!" Jake loudly announced as you dropped the dress. You smiled to yourself, Jake had never called you by your given name.

"What? You like it?" You questioned as you walked over, the dark green bikini covered just enough to be tasteful but showed enough to be suggestive.

"Me liking it is an understatement," Jake told you as you walked past him for the other side of the net.

"Then don't get distracted," you shrugged. "Actually, do get distracted. I want to win."

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The game went by smoothly, you didn't catch Bob staring at you but you did catch Jake. You would laugh every time he missed the ball when you would purposefully place yourself in his eyesight. "I'm going to the water, have fun!" You called to the others as you left the game.

"I'll come with you," Bob said from the other side of the net, making the teams even again. You two walked down the beach together, your hands lightly brushing against each others. "You, uh, look nice," Bob said and you smiled over at him.

"Thanks, so do you," you returned the compliment, trying not to look at him.

"Seems like Jake likes you back too," Bob said it so casually it made your head spin.

"What? Jake? No!" You feebly argued, the heat and the stare from Bob making your brain slow down a bit. "I don't like Jake, I like you!" You slapped your hands over your mouth.

"You, you like me?"

"I thought it was obvious," you mumbled, toeing the sand. "I just assumed you knew and didn't say anything because you didn't like me back," you admitted, scared now that you didn't think you knew his feelings.

"What? No, I do like you," Bob argued back and you stared at him with wide eyes.

"So, do you like my swimsuit? I bought it specifically to show off to you," you admitted lowly, giving him a slow spin. You weren't even in the water yet, your skin still sun warmed. Bob just watched you with heavy lidded and lust filled eyes hidden behind his frames, there was a slow nod from him before he reached out and threw you over his shoulder. "Robert Floyd!" Your shout called the attention of everyone else. They watched as Bob walked with you over his shoulder, swooped down to grab your things, before leaving the beach with you.

"Get it, girl!" Natasha yelled at you as you placed your hand on Bob's lower back to push your head up to stop the rush of blood to it. Your nails slightly dug into his back and you heard him groan at it. You dug your nails even a little bit harder with a smirk on your face.

"You're going to pay for that," Bob threw you off his shoulder to pull you into a bruising kiss, the hoots and hollers of your friends fading into the background as he gripped your hips tight.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman

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syluspeach · 2 days ago

Text

Pairing: succubus!sylus x nun!reader

Synopsis: A demon corrupts a bride of Christ

Note: Reposted after some editing. Not totally happy with this one but i hope you enjoy none the less. +18(mdni) reader is a sweet bean who stutters a lot so be warned

You reminded him of a pretty little doe.

The way your eyes would widen when you caught him staring, before scurrying off ignited the primal drive that filled every animal.

The stark white habit you wore made you stand out during Sunday mass. The black beads that made up the cincture around your waist accentuated the slopes and curves nicely. That nervous tic of yours where you played with the red bead at the end made the corner of his mouth twitch.

When it came time to accept the holy communion, the churchgoers filed themselves into neat lines.

Sylus patiently waited as the lines got smaller before reaching the one that led to you. You tried to ignore the warmth that filled your face as you saw him standing tall above everyone else. Sharp ruby colored eyes took in their fill, his mind wandering, picturing what lay hidden by your habit.

You couldn’t understand why he would be here of all places. He didn’t appear like the type of person who believed in a holy power. He seemed like the corrupt type. The ones the older nuns would suck their teeth at, claiming that a man like him was only good for “wine and dining a girl.”

As he got closer and closer, your hand began to tremble. There was no way you’d be able to look him in the eye as he took the body of Christ from your fingers.

As he stood before you, a few inches shorter due to the stairs you stood on, your voice caught in your throat. As you two came face to face, you could have sworn his eyes flashed an unnatural red. The color matching the bead found at the end of your cincture. His sharp eyes gave him an air of arrogance and his all black attire caused him to stick out like a sore thumb. His shirt alone must cost more than what you would gather in donations on a good day.

He seemed like the unpredictable type, but he was beautiful.

Beautiful like a raging storm.

You’d never be able to guess his next move. Here one second, gone the next. He was smooth like the wine you shared with the people of the church and fiery like the hell you were so often threatened with.

The clearing of his throat brought you back to the task at hand.

“Won’t you bless me, angel?”

Your knees began to shake and a warmth in your belly you had never experienced sprouted.

His voice was pure temptation. The simplest things would sound so crude coming from him. You couldn’t help but imagine what he would sound like as he had you buried in between his sheets. The way he would whisper unholy things in your ear as he had you facedown, his hands reaching for the apex of your thighs and-

You reigned in your thoughts.

“Y-yes.” You hated how breathless you sounded. Picking one of the communion wafers, you brought it up to his lips. Your hand shaking so. “The body of Christ, sir.”

The tremble came to a stop when his hand came up and grabbed onto your wrist, steadying it. This allowed him to make a show as he took the sacred host into his mouth. You could feel his warm tongue against your finger. The smooth muscle swirled around the tip of the said digit. Pulling your hand away from his mouth, he pressed a quick kiss to its tip. A smile formed on his face, his canines shining in the light.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

——

As you had been busy organizing the copies of bibles found on the back of the pews, the pale-haired man had materialized out of thin air. He appeared distressed, hair out of place, and some of the buttons of his shirt were undone, a coat a sweat glistening on his chest.

“How did you do that!” You started before being cut off.

“Sister! Please, I need-I need to confess.” He exclaimed as reached for you, his hands fisting the skirt of your habit as he fell onto his knees before you. “I’ve done something-something terrible. I must be cleansed. Cleansed of my sins.”

“Oh d-dear. I should…Let me grab the priest. I’m not allowed to perform confessions.”

You tried to pull away, but his hold on you didn’t falter.

“There’s no time!” He stood up, nearly throwing you off balance. Tugging you towards the confession booth, he continued. “Time is running out, Sister. I need to get this off of my chest.”

Settling you into the cushioned seat, he closed the door. Not before sliding in beside you. The dim booth was illuminated by the light coming from the transom located above the door.

“Sir! This isn’t…I can’t be…This isn’t how confessions work! Please, if you’d allow me, I can grab the-“

“I don’t want him,” His frantic tone quickly shifted to his usual sultry tone. “All I need is you.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You tried to pull away, reaching around him for the door, but it was no use. He was strong, unnaturally so. In a swift motion, he pulled you onto his lap, smothering you and forcing you into the corner. His cologne clouded your senses, preventing you from thinking of anything else.

“You hide underneath your white cloak of righteousness, but I’ve seen your desire. During the holy communion, I could hear your heart racing. The closer I got, the faster it went. Like a darling hummingbird.” In the tussle, your coif had come right off, leaving your natural hair to come free and your neck exposed. Sylus took this as an opportunity, his nose brushing against the pulsating vein. “And your scent. By the heavens, your scent was suffocating.”

“I don’t understand.” You whispered, your words cutting through the dense air. “This is wrong. I could…I could get in trouble if they find me here…with you. It’s improper.”

You tried to pull away as his tongue curled around your ear. The warmth in between your thighs was brewing and your breathing was becoming swallow.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” His tone was teasing. You could only imagine this is what it was like when a predator toys with its prey. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

Reaching for your skirt, he slowly bunched it up, exposing your cotton underwear and white thigh-high stockings.

“You say one thing and your body another. You don’t have to be afraid when it’s normal to be curious. You’ve lived your whole life under the sacred oath. One would have to be completely mad to not crave the flesh of another.”

Having him so near was throwing you off course. No man had ever been so forward, so demanding with you. No man had made his craving for you so evident before. If the appendage poking your ass was any indication of how he felt, his intentions were crystal clear. He was driving you mad, your breathing picked up, the motion of your chest visible under the naked eye.

“Please, sir. I don’t-”

“My name is Sylus, sweetheart.” His fingers played with the band of your underwear before settling against your warm tummy, the digits grasping the fat that lay there. “All I need from you is a simple yes. Let me show you the pleasures your god has so selflessly prevented you from indulging in.”

You wanted it.

You craved what he can give you.

Living an incredibly sheltered life, curiosity was your weakness. Late at night, locked behind your bedroom door, you think about everything you were missing out on. Some ugly feeling would fill your chest as you watched with sad eyes as couples stole glances at one another. Those lingering touches and sweet kisses. You thought how you’d never be able to experience those things, but the opportunity was presenting itself. You just needed to take it.

“Will it hurt?” Your hand moved to lay on top of his.

He chuckled, bringing your hand to his mouth. His soft lips pressed tender peck on your knuckles.

“Only if you want it to.”

You finally looked at him. Your nose brushed against his from the proximity, breathes mingling with one another’s. There it was again. The usual red flicker of his eyes was now gone, the blood red staying for once.

“I-I want it. I want it all, Sylus. But-”

“Don’t keep me from her, sweetheart. I can smell how much she needs me.” He tore his eyes away from yours, staring at the wet spot on your underwear.

With a shift of your hips, you felt how the gusset of your undergarments became unstuck from your sticky folds.

“Please,” you whimpered, your head falling against his shoulder. “Please, touch me.”

Sylus said nothing as he moved to capture your lips. Having never been kissed before, your motions were clumsy and awkward. He was patient though, allowing you to find the proper rhythm before reaching for your panties. Tugging them down, you aided him with lifting your hips.

At some point, your feet ended up planted against his thighs as his pointer and ring fingers spread your puffy lips apart. You pulled away from him, looking down at where he was playing with you. When his middle finger brushed against a small bundle of nerves, you whined as your hips jerked slightly.

“You’re so sensitive.” He whispered in your ear as his nose trailed against your temple. “I need you to relax if this is going to work.”

Gathering some spit, he brought his fingers to his mouth. Your taste covers every single taste bud.

“S’fucking sweet, angel. I need more.” He groaned. “But not now, I’ll eat you out later.”

He started slow, his pointer finger splitting your gummy walls, his saliva mixing with your essence. It was strange at first. Something you weren’t used to. When he added a second, you groaned with the stretch, gasping at the sensation.

“You’re doing so well. Such a good little listener.”

“I want more.” You said, gyrating your hips, trying to bring his fingers deeper into you.

“You’ll take what I give you. Besides, I don’t think you’re ready for more, sweetie.” He pressed a kiss to your warm cheek. “Gotta open you up before you can take anything else.”

Pushing his fingers in up to the knuckles, you whined when they curled towards a spongy part inside of you. The full sensation and the stretching of your walls were overwhelming. When his thumb began rubbing circles on your clit, you gripped onto his forearm, trying to pull away but his grip tightened. His free hand prevents you from closing your trembling thighs.

“Nuh huh, you were just begging for more and now you’re trying to pull away. I don’t think so.”

Your thighs were shaking, not only from holding the same position for so long but from the euphoric feeling that was filling you up. His hand was drenched in your cream, a pool collecting under you, staining his pant leg. You were getting tired and your eyes were brimming with tears. Something was bubbling within you. It felt like what you could only actuate to a dam being released.

“Sylus!” His name was the only thing you could speak as your whole body was visibly shaking. Moaning, you tucked your face into his neck, inhaling his rich scent as you came. Your hips bucked through the aftershocks, your breaths coming out in sweet little gasps. His lips met yours as your body began to relax.

Pulling his fingers out of you, he brought them up to your lips. His long digits were shiny and completely drenched. Pressing down on your warm tongue, you were able to taste yourself. At the sight of your nose scrunching, he laughed.

“Don’t make that face. You’ll learn to love the taste of you.” Leaving you flustered, he pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop. He took his time cleaning you off of his skin, savoring each swipe. “I know everything is new to you, but you’ll learn with time. Won’t you, sweetheart?”

Exhausted and shocked from what had transpired, all you could do was nod.

Picking up your discarded panties off the ground, he wiped you clean, cooing as you whined when the fabric brushed your sensitive clit.

“There there, sweet girl.” He pressed kisses all over your face. “I’ll take care of you from now on.”

Without a sound, a maroon and black colored fume filled the space of the confession booth. When the smoke settled, a black feather lay on the plush cushion seat along with a rosary.

All rights belong to @syluspeach

Reblogs, likes, or comments are appreciated.

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doeyeddaydream · 2 days ago

Text

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕭𝖔𝖞𝖘

⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Poly!Lost boys x fem reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ you've captured the attention of the boardwalk vampires. You're still figuring out if that's a bad thing or not.

⋆˙⟡♡ AUTHORS NOTE ˚୨୧⋆ heavily inspired by @i-heart-slashers lovely work! Please check them out <3 I'm experimenting with new layouts for my fic writing, lmao I feel it changes all the time. There has been an attempt of a proofread and edit, but I'm writing this early in the morning so I'll probably come back to lots of spelling and grammar mistakes. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

✧ ⁺ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ heavily implied stalking, building tension, mention of drug use, verbal harassment (not from the boys), implied murder. 16+

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

Bathed in neon light, you weave through the swarming crowds of boardwalk visitors. Swearing that more and more people seem to appear in steady numbers every night, gathering to the docks like rushing seafoam upon sand whenever the sun dipped behind the violet horizon.

You were still experiencing growing pains and homesickness getting used to Santa Carlo, growing accustomed to the bustling hot sunny days and excilurating night life was easier said than done. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and salt air, the crashing of waves and thundering rollercoasters, and the neon lights that dazzled brighter than the stars above you was overwhelming as much as it was exciting. It was all a lot to take in.

However the familiar comfort of your little apartment called out to you after a long day of work. The thought of eating takeout on your little cushy couch and watching another old cheesy horror movie on your box TV kept you trudging on through the careless shoving elbows and shoulders. Ever so slowly that little sanctuary was becoming home, morphing into a reflection of yourself. Like the new pillows lounging on your once bare couch, or the seashell wind chime that dangles by your doorstep. The sea glass would filter beautiful colours through your kitchen window, and often you'd get to eat breakfast gently blanketed in shimmering colours of green and blue.

The thought of sunlight was a long gone dream however, the silver moon shining down on the boardwalk as the nightlife lights up the pitch dark night. Neon signs and flickering coloured bulbs and trashcan fires.

You had hoped to leave your shift before the brunt of the nightlife awoken and caused chaos, but you had gotten distracted by talking to your coworker whilst ordering takeout. The sky that was once bruising with purples and pinks was now a deep midnight blue, stars twinkling overhead with the pale silver moon shining bright over Santa Carlo.

The company you had seemed to catch the eyes of always came out once the sun was gone, and although they had yet to do anything concerning towards you in particular, they still unnerved you in a way that kept you looking out for them. You'd often feel their eyes on you from afar, as if you were some intriguing spectacle.

As if summoning them from merely thinking of their existence, you feel it again. The weight of their pinning stares leering from out the corner of your eyes like creeping, fleeting shadows. The low rumble of several motorcycles follow behind you as you walk, and you know they're there. Creeping and following like a group of alleycats following a mouse.

The icy prickle of fear doesn't reach you however, and instead you feel enveloped by an unexplainable warmth. A feeling of security knowing that some of Santa Carlos biggest troublemakers are looking out for you. You had learnt not to dwell on questioning it. It unsettled you enough to feel weary of them, yet intrigued enough to remain curious.

Your interactions with them had been far and few between. The more boisterous and outgoing blondes had approached you with playfulness in the past, lovingly bothering you whenever you strayed too close to the arcade games or carnival rides out of curiosity. The plushy dolphin that the fluffy blonde hair one had won for you was still nestled soundly on your couch, the scent of him still sticking to it. Marijuana and sea salt.

And then there were the other two. David and Dwayne. They could be boisterous when they wanted to be, grinning and hollering as they'd race against one another on the same banks. Kicking up sand and seafoam along the dark shoreline, their cheers echoing in the night whilst you worked the late shift. But they could also be more serious- more intimidating. David carried a confidence within him wherever he went, a relaxed knowing smirk or promising glare on his expression. Dwayne too- he was silent most the time. His gaze was the heaviest and lingered the longest. Dark eyes as black as two chips of charcoal staring across the bustling crowds as if looking through them to reach you. He carried an intensity that he carried alone.

They remained a mystery to you. Something about them set them apart from the usual punks and troublemakers in Santa Carlo, they acted as if there was nothing to lose. Truly nothing. As if the night was theirs and life would forever be sweet and young and free. A part of you envied that, especially after gruelling long shifts like today.

A loud growling rev of a motorcycle engine startles you and you almost drop your food. The warm takeaway box nearly tumbled upon the sidewalk if it weren't for your quick reflexes, and your heart stutters in your chest as a few rowdy brightly mohawked punks zoom past you carelessly. They throw some unsavoury leering cheers your way that makes your skin crawl, and you instinctly hug the box to your chest. Feeling annoyed and upset. Can't you have a moments break? You've been forcing smiles all day, you're too tired for this.

Several more engines roar to life, and you watch onwards as your little stalkers make chase. The blondes whoop and cheer and hurl insults, whilst the remaining two stoic ones ride ahead. Faster and more determined. Rushing onward on the wind.

You can only watch on as the four headlights grow further and further away into the thick sea mist of buildings and parting crowds, and eventually the thick entrance of the forest. You can hear their sinister laughter and hurling threats echo and fade, the noisy chaos now nothing but kicked up sand and irritated people.

You go home that night, feeling oddly at peace knowing those assholes wouldn't get away scot-free. Curled up on the couch that you've yet to make a proper dent in with glossy noodles curled around your wooden chopsticks and the hum of late night horror television playing, you don't notice the next following days about the missing posters of three bright mohawked men plastered grimly upon the window of your workplace. Fluttering in the breeze, surely to be layered over with more inevitable cases of missing people.

#divider by strangergraphics #divider by sister-lucifer #paul lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys x reader #marko the lost boys x reader #dwayne the lost boys x reader #david the lost boys x reader #paul the lost boys x reader #the lost boys david #the lost boys #tlb imagine #tlb x reader

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m34tthews · 2 days ago

Text

CHAPTER THREE

“in another life, i know we could ride out, boy”

pairing — auston matthews x vet!reader

summary — after another playoff loss, auston disappears from the spotlight and unexpectedly crosses paths with y/n—someone from a past life who feels both distant and familiar. they only have the summer, two people from different worlds colliding at the wrong time, reigniting something they never saw coming.

word count — 8.4k

warnings — minors dni. sexual themes (future chapters)

an — i am so sorry this took me so long. i was sitting on this chapter for a while i just needed to edit it. enjoy <3

masterlist

the sun sat high above them, warm and bright, casting honeyed light over the sidewalks and awnings of their sleepy corner of the city. it was breezy out, the kind of perfect late spring afternoon that made you forget about anything other than the sound of your sneakers against the pavement and the lazy tug of a leash in your hand. the kind of day that felt like it could last forever if you let it.

y/n had been smiling the whole time. since he called that morning—voice scratchy, still thick with sleep—to ask if she wanted to walk felix with him.

“he gets stubborn if i go without you,” he’d said, and she rolled her eyes at the excuse but grabbed her hoodie anyway.

their days had fallen into an easy rhythm. he started dropping off coffee for her before work, the order always right even when she swore she didn’t have a usual. he teased her about her trashy reality shows and still ended up staying through half the episodes, legs tangled with hers on the couch. she showed up for walks with felix more than he ever asked, claimed it was for the dog, but she caught the way he watched them together—like seeing her with felix was his new favorite thing.

felix trotted happily in front of them now, tongue lolling, tail wagging, completely content as they wandered down a quieter block just a few minutes from her apartment.

auston had kept close. he walked a little closer than usual, his arm brushing hers from time to time, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back whenever they crossed the street. he was comfortable. flirtier than before, sure, but grounded. like a version of himself that only she got to see.

and then—

“auston matthews?”

the voice snapped through the quiet like a stone tossed into still water.

they both slowed at the sound, the easy rhythm of the afternoon cracking beneath the surface. they turned together, and y/n felt the shift the moment she saw the girl approaching.

she was tall, blonde, dressed in a matching set of designer athleisure that looked untouched by actual sweat. the kind of girl who could make a walk through the square feel like a photo shoot. oversized sunglasses pushed into her hair, lip gloss catching the sun like she planned it that way.

“wow, i thought that was you,” the girl laughed, already sliding a hand around auston’s arm like she owned the space. y/n’s chest tightened, something sinking low and unwelcome.

auston’s posture changed just slightly—shoulders stiffening, smile faltering.

“hey, uh… riley, right?”

“wow.” riley stepped back, giving a dramatic gasp. “riley, right?” she repeated, all mock offense, then turned toward y/n with a smile that was too wide, too polished. “i guess that’s fair though. he probably doesn’t remember my name with so many girls showing up at that pool of his.”

y/n blinked, watching the exchange, trying to read his face. the distance between them now felt bigger than it had the whole walk.

auston cleared his throat. “we’ve… run into each other before.”

“run into,” riley teased, winking. “we ran into each other a few times last summer. i’m sure your neighbors still remember.”

y/n’s grip on the leash tightened. felix glanced up at her with a little snort, tail still wagging like nothing had changed.

riley leaned in closer, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her voice dropping like she was sharing some secret. “so… what’s the theme this year? that pool party of yours is always wild. are the usual girls invited, or are you going for something more… lowkey?” her glance flicked sideways at y/n, the meaning clear.

the warmth that had carried y/n through the day drained from her limbs, replaced by something cold and unfamiliar. she could still feel the ghost of auston’s hand on her back, the way he’d smiled at her earlier, and now it felt like it belonged to someone else.

before auston could say anything, y/n gave a polite, practiced smile. “we were just heading out, actually.”

he turned to her, immediate, like he felt the shift too. “y/n—”

“no worries,” riley cut in, waving a perfectly manicured hand. “i’ll dm you. again.”

she walked off without waiting for a response, that same smirk tugging at her lips as she disappeared around the corner.

auston let out a slow breath, dragging his hand down his face like he could erase the whole encounter.

“she’s…” he started, searching for the right words.

“you don’t have to explain,” y/n said, light but distant, eyes on felix instead of him. “i mean, it’s… you.”

he hated how small she sounded saying that. like the bubble they’d built together had popped and she was the only one standing in the aftermath.

“me?”

“yeah.” she gave him a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “i just didn’t really realize… how big of a deal you are. i guess.”

he reached out, brushing his hand against hers, catching her pinky like it would make her stay in this moment with him.

“she’s not part of my life,” he said quietly. “not like you are.”

but she didn’t look at him, not right away. her fingers toyed with the leash, and when she spoke, her voice was softer, almost too soft.

“i’m not much of a part of it either. and it’s not like you… live here or anything.”

he stopped walking, like the words physically caught him off guard.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing,” she said, with a little shrug, but the distance between them felt like miles now. “just… we’re in different places. that’s all.”

before he could say anything else, felix sneezed and stopped short, the leash tangling around a post. y/n knelt to free it, fussing over the dog like it was the only thing that mattered, like her heart wasn’t twisting up tight inside her chest.

the silence between them stretched too long.

they reached her building just as the streetlights flickered on, the sidewalk bathed in soft amber glow. she unclipped felix’s leash at the steps, fingers brushing through his fur like it grounded her.

auston stayed close, closer than she let him feel. his heart was pounding, too loud in his ears.

“y/n.”

she looked at him then, eyes guarded, like she was bracing for something she didn’t want to hear.

“are you okay?” he asked, voice low, like maybe if he kept it soft enough she wouldn’t pull further away.

because for a little while it had felt like maybe this was real—coffee runs, lazy mornings, kisses that made the world fall away. but then reality caught up. reminded her who he was. reminded her of all the reasons this didn’t make sense.

“yeah,” she said finally. “just a little tired.”

he tried to close the space between them, but as his lips neared hers, she turned her head, slipping away before he could even feel the warmth of her mouth.

“goodnight, auston,” she said gently, eyes lowered, voice soft.

and then she was gone. the door clicked shut behind her, quiet but final.

he stood there, hand half raised, as if he could knock or call her back but knowing he wouldn’t. felix let out a single bark on the other side of the door, like he knew.

auston huffed out a breathless laugh and shook his head.

“goodnight, y/n,” he whispered, to no one at all.

inside, y/n leaned against the door, heart beating fast, lips tingling with the ghost of the kiss that never happened. and felix, blissfully unaware, trotted down the hall, tail wagging like nothing had changed.

it was stupid.it was nothing. but god, why did it feel like everything?

she slipped off her sneakers, running a hand through her hair, and wandered into the living room where naomi was curled up on the couch with a half-eaten bowl of popcorn and reruns of the summer i turned pretty playing in the background.

“you’re back early,” naomi said, glancing over, “he didn’t walk you to your door this time?”

“he did,” y/n mumbled, sinking onto the other side of the couch. “i just… went inside before he could kiss me.”

naomi arched a brow. “you what?”

“i panicked, okay?”

“you’ve literally kissed him before—”

“that was different!” she hissed, reaching for the popcorn. “some girl stopped him on our walk. she clearly knew him. like, biblically. and she asked about some pool party. with models, naomi.”

naomi tilted her head. “okay, and?”

“and i just… i don’t know. i got in my head. i’ve never dated anyone who’s—who’s that.”

naomi looked at her carefully, then picked up her phone. “wait… you still haven’t googled him?”

“i didn’t want to,” y/n muttered, but she leaned over anyway, watching with her chin on her knees as naomi typed in “auston matthews.”

the results loaded fast. articles. headlines. magazine covers. game stats. instagram posts. vacation shots. photos with the team. photos without a shirt. photos with girls. models. actresses. rumors.

there was even a GQ cover. he looked almost unrecognizable. not because he looked bad—no, he looked incredible—but because he looked so far away from the version of him she’d just spent the week laughing with and kissing on her couch.

she stared at one picture of him at a yacht party, a bikini-clad girl pressed to his side like it was second nature.

her stomach twisted.

“okay, don’t spiral,” naomi said, voice gentle. “look, it’s not like he isn’t that guy. but maybe he’s also not just that guy.”

y/n shook her head, pulling a pillow into her chest.

“i don’t know if i can do this, nai. he’s… he’s so much. and i’m just… me. i’m not glamorous. i’ve got cat hair on my scrubs and baby drool on my hoodie. he lives in a world i don’t even recognize. what if this is just some game to him?”

naomi reached over, putting a hand on her arm.

“you know what this sounds like?” she said with a smirk. “a reformed playboy trope.”

“oh my god, stop—”

“no, seriously,” naomi insisted, pulling the popcorn back. “guy leaves behind the noise, comes home, sees the girl he never got over in high school, gets wrecked by her sweet coffee order and the way she rocks a messy bun. it’s classic. you’re the plot of every wattpad book i read at sixteen.”

y/n groaned, shoving her head into the couch cushion.

“i’m being serious,” she mumbled into the fabric.

“i know,” naomi said, a little softer now. “but seriously… the guy’s been following you around like a lost puppy. not just showing up—actually listening. actually seeing you. maybe you should let him.”

y/n lifted her head slightly.

“i don’t know,” she whispered. “i just don’t want to fall into something i can’t keep up with.”

naomi looked at her like she already knew. “y/n,” she said gently. “i think you already have.”

the night spiraled in the way all dangerous nights do: slowly, and with wine.

what started as a simple google search turned into a full-blown internet investigation the moment naomi pulled out the sauvignon blanc from the fridge and handed y/n a glass with a raised brow.

“if we’re gonna stalk,” naomi said, plopping back on the couch and refreshing the search bar, “we’re doing it right.”

y/n didn’t protest.

not when the first glass dulled her panic into a hum. not when naomi found a reddit thread titled “has anyone here slept with auston matthews?? asking for science”

not even when they found out that a lot of girls, apparently, had.

“okay, jesus,” y/n muttered, wine sloshing in her glass as she leaned over the laptop screen. “why is this thread so long? do these girls not have shame?”

“girl,” naomi said, already scrolling through with professional efficiency, “they have receipts.”

she read aloud dramatically.

“‘met him at a party in arizona, wasn’t even trying but the man has gravity. we ended up in his car and let me just say—10/10, would let him ruin my life again.’”

“oh my god—”

“‘he’s sooo hot in person, it’s scary. like, towering and soft-spoken but then will whisper the filthiest things in your ear.’”

“naomi, stop—”

“‘okay so he kissed my neck once and i still think about it in the shower sometimes. don’t judge me.’”

“naomi!”

“i’m sorry!” she cackled, breathless from laughter. “this is gold. internet gold.”

y/n shoved the wine glass onto the coffee table and sat back, face burning.

“okay. okay. i can’t read anymore. this is terrible. why did i let you do this.”

“because you like him,” naomi said, smug.

y/n groaned, letting her head fall against the couch.

“i do not. i just—i think i like the version of him that brings me sweet coffee and holds maria like she’s made of clouds. not the one who has girls thirst-posting about his neck.”

naomi gave her a look. “baby girl, those are the same guy. and you already knew that. he didn’t exactly hide the fact that he’s… you know, him.”

“yeah, well, he didn’t show me his gq spread either,” y/n muttered, reaching for her wine again.

“okay, fair. but still—you knew. Now atet we know he isn’t just auston from highschool. he is auston freaking matthews. the guy’s face has been in youTube ads since you mentioned him.”

“i didn’t watch hockey in high school! still don’t”

“you didn’t watch tv in high school. you were too busy being a good student and dating trent the tire fire.”

y/n groaned louder. “you are is not helping.”

naomi softened then, leaning over and nudging her gently. “look,” she said, voice lower now. “i get it. you’ve only ever been with boyfriends. safe guys. slow. but this? auston? he’s not that.”

y/n nodded miserably.

“he’s not a boyfriend,” she said. “he’s… auston. reddit thread subject. high-profile, NHL-star, everyone-knows-his-name-including-my-neighbors auston.”

“except,” naomi said gently, “he kind of is a boyfriend. at least with you.”

y/n blinked.

“he walked you home. he held your friend’s baby. he texted you to make sure you got inside. he’s taken you on dates. like, actual dates—not dm at 2am kind of stuff. dates.”

y/n chewed the inside of her cheek.

“he brings me disgustingly sweet coffee.”

“exactly. no self-respecting man drinks that crap unless he’s trying to get laid or he’s trying to impress a girl he really likes.” naomi grinned.

she continued, while laughing under her breath at y/n. “i think he might be both.”

y/n sighed, sinking back into the couch, the wine now humming under her skin.

she didn’t want to admit it. but the truth curled in her stomach like heat.

he made her feel something. and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, that something was powerful, magnetic, impossible to resist.

and god help her—after all that reddit research—she was curious.

dangerously so.

the days after felt different. not on the surface — not enough that anyone else would notice. but auston felt it. in the way she answered his texts a little later than usual. in how she always seemed to have somewhere else to be when he offered to stop by with coffee or walk felix. in the little silences that had crept in where easy conversation used to live.

he tried not to overthink it at first. maybe she was just busy. maybe he was imagining it. but the feeling stuck — a quiet weight between his ribs every time she slipped just a little further away.

on a wednesday, after his morning skate, he called her. just to hear her voice, just to ask something simple.

“hey,” he said, casual, warm, like nothing felt off at all. “you want me to swing by after work? we could grab something, or i can just bring felix’s leash if you’re tired.”

there was a pause — just a second too long.

“that’s sweet,” she said finally, and her voice was gentle, careful. “but i think i’m just gonna have a quiet night. it’s been a long day.”

he hesitated, trying to keep his voice light. “you sure? i don’t mind.”

“i’m sure,” she said, soft but firm.

and that was that.

he hung up, the smile fading from his face before the call even ended.

alone in her apartment that night, y/n sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone like it might give her answers she didn’t want to say out loud. she’d done the thing she promised herself she wouldn’t. searched him. really searched him. beyond the stats she already knew. beyond the highlight reels.

pictures from parties. women — perfect women — smiling at his side, draped over him like they belonged there. interviews where he talked about his career, his life in cities she’d never even visited. articles with words like superstar and celebrity and elite.

and now, for the first time in a long time, she felt small. out of place. like she’d stumbled into something that wasn’t meant for her.

the things that made her feel so steady with him — the coffee runs, the walks, the way his fingers brushed hers like it meant something — they felt fragile now. like she’d imagined how close they’d gotten.

she hated that she felt it. hated that she let some stranger’s photo or headline get under her skin. but it was there, sharp and quiet and persistent.

and so, she avoided. not because she didn’t want him near — god, she did. but because she didn’t know how to stand next to him without feeling like she didn’t belong.

auston felt the shift more with every passing day. the warmth she’d let him have — the softness in her smile, the easy way she used to lean into him — it felt further and further away, like trying to catch sunlight through a window.

and the worst part? he didn’t know how to reach her without making her pull back even more.

but he knew this much: she was slipping through his fingers, and he wasn’t ready to let her go.

days passed, but the distance didn’t. if anything, it grew — small at first, so small it could’ve been missed. she’d smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. she’d text back, but it was shorter, safer. when he called, she’d sound tired. when he asked to see her, she had a reason to say no.

auston noticed it all. the way she avoided walking home the long way with him. how she stopped sending him dumb pictures of felix during the day. how she laughed less, looked at him less.

he tried to reason with himself — maybe she was busy. maybe she was overwhelmed. but that quiet gut-punch told him the truth: she was pulling away, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

so one night, after staring at his phone too long and pacing his apartment until he couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed his keys and left.

she didn’t expect the knock.

y/n hesitated at the door, heart racing in a way that annoyed her — like she’d already lost control of this before she even opened it. and when she did, and saw him there — all messy hair and restless energy, eyes searching hers like he’d come to find something he’d lost — she almost forgot how to breathe.

she didn’t open the door all the way, but she didn’t close it either. auston could feel the crack widening between them, metaphorically and literally, even if she was still cautious. her hand stayed on the edge of the door like she needed to hold onto something — like letting go meant letting herself fall.

she let the door open a little more, heart still pounding, the fight in her starting to waver beneath how honest he sounded, how much he meant it.

and without thinking, felix padded up behind him, nosing at the gap between them like he sensed the tension, tail wagging as if his presence alone could fix it.

auston glanced down at his dog, then back at her.

“let me in,” he said softly. “just for a little while.”

and this time, she didn’t stop herself. she stepped back, letting the door swing open. letting him in. letting them in.

because as much as she tried to protect herself, the truth was she didn’t want to shut him out. not really. not at all.

he leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching her like he could read the script she was trying not to say out loud.

and he could see it all over her face.

not just tired. not just guarded. she looked like she wanted to let herself believe in something, but every bone in her body was telling her not to.

“i can’t do this anymore,” he said, voice low, raw at the edges. “y/n… please just talk to me. i don’t care if you’re mad. i don’t care if you’re scared. but don’t shut me out without telling me why.”

she blinked at him, throat tight.

“you think i don’t see it?” he continued, stepping just close enough that she could feel the weight of his presence. “you dodge my calls. you smile like you’re fine but you won’t look me in the eye. you don’t send me those dumb dog photos anymore. you didn’t want me to pick you up from work. you don’t even want me standing here right now.”

she tried to say something, but nothing came out.

“just tell me why,” he said, quieter now. vulnerable in a way she’d never seen him. “why are you mad at me? what did i do?”

and that was when she realized — he really didn’t know. he wasn’t playing dumb. he wasn’t trying to cover anything up. he just… didn’t know.

her grip on the door softened, and her heart broke a little at the way he looked at her — like he’d give anything to make this right.

“i’m not mad,” she said finally, voice small. “i’m… i don’t know. i just…”

she hesitated, but he waited, patient, like he’d stay there all night if she needed him to.

“i looked you up,” she admitted, almost embarrassed. “after that day in the square. i saw everything — the articles, the pictures, the women, the parties… i thought i was okay with it, but then i wasn’t. and i felt stupid. and small. and like i didn’t belong anywhere near you.”

his expression softened, everything in him aching to close the space between them.

she hesitated, but he waited, patient, like he’d stay there all night if she needed him to.

his expression softened, his heart breaking a little at how small she sounded.

“god, y/n,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. he stepped closer, slow, careful, until he could see the tears brimming in her eyes that she was too proud to let fall. “you belong. you don’t even see it, do you? none of that — the pictures, the stories, those people — none of it feels real like this does. like you do.”

she swallowed hard, fighting against the lump in her throat.

“felix loves you,” he added, trying to ease the moment, his lips twitching into something soft and true. “you think i’d let my dog fall for someone who doesn’t belong?”

that almost made her laugh — almost.

“auston…”

“don’t pull away from me because of stuff that doesn’t matter,” he said, voice steady but thick with feeling. “please. don’t do that.”

“you live in canada, auston.”

he blinked at her honesty, then nodded slowly.

“i know.”

“and i live here. this—this is my life. i don’t have the luxury of disappearing for weeks or flying around or… doing what you do.”

“i’m not asking you to disappear,” he said gently. “i’m asking you to give me a summer.”

her eyebrows lifted slightly. “a summer?”

he nodded once. “yeah. just… give me this time. we don’t have to figure everything out right now. i don’t expect you to pack up your life. i don’t expect you to turn this into something it’s not ready to be. but i can’t stop thinking about you, and not in some fleeting way. you’ve been in my head since we were kids, y/n. since before either of us knew what any of this would look like.”

she looked at him now. really looked at him. and he looked so earnest—so young, in a way. not in age, but in the way hope looked on him.

“it’s not just the distance, auston. it’s you. you’re… you’re you. you’re a big deal.”

he smiled a little, almost sheepishly. “not to you.”

she didn’t say anything.

“you’re still the girl who made me laugh in your backyard when i was trying to act like trent wasn’t the biggest idiot on earth. you didn’t care about the game, or the hype, or who i might be one day. you asked me if i liked honey barbecue wings and then told me i had weird hands. you roasted me.”

“you do have weird hands.”

“see?” he grinned. “that’s what i mean. you’re not here for any of the bullshit.”

she looked at him, quiet.

“i haven’t felt this… this relieved in a long time,” he said. “like the weight goes away when i’m with you. and it’s not because you’re some escape. it’s because you’re real. and i don’t have to perform or win or be anything other than who i am.”

her face softened, something in her shoulders slowly easing—just barely.

“give me this summer,” he said again, stepping closer. “let’s go to bad diners and walk felix and have lazy sundays. and if, at the end of it, you tell me it’s not right—then fine. i’ll back off. i’ll carry this and leave you be. but if there’s even a part of you that wants to know what this could be… say yes.”

she looked up at him then, and it was the way she blinked—slow and searching—that made his heart skip.

“you’re exhausting,” she muttered, trying to hide the smile that curled at the corner of her mouth.

“i’ve been told.”

“and you talk too much when you’re nervous.”

“also accurate.”

she exhaled, brushing a hand through her hair.

“just the summer?”

“just the summer,” he promised. “no expectations. no pressure.”

she tilted her head, still trying not to smile. “and what happens when the summer ends?”

his voice was soft now, sure.

“then we figure it out together.”

for a moment, neither of them moved. the air felt still, the weight of everything between them hanging in the quiet like fog.

but then she nodded.

once. slow but cautious. and overall, hopeful.

“okay,” she whispered. “just the summer.”

he grinned. like the sun had just come out for the first time all week.

and then he added, voice low and teasing, “does this mean we’re back to kissing again?”

she rolled her eyes.

but she didn’t say no.

the second she nodded—even the slightest movement of her chin in agreement—he surged forward like the entire week of her silence had been a dam and she’d just cracked it open with a single word.

his mouth was on hers in a breathless second.

there was nothing hesitant this time. no teasing edge or first-kiss nervousness. it was heat and hunger and want. it was the kind of kiss that curled toes and made hearts stumble out of rhythm. he held her like he was scared she might vanish again, his hands cradling her face with all the gentleness he could manage while his mouth moved against hers like he’d forgotten how to breathe without her.

and god, she missed him too.

she melted into it, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt as he kissed her like she was the answer to a question he hadn’t dared ask until now. he kissed her like he meant it, like no amount of time or distance could make this moment anything less than inevitable.

when they finally broke apart—barely, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath—he grinned.

“that was… overdue.”

she laughed, still slightly dazed. “a little.”

“you’ve been dodging me all week,” he whispered, nose brushing hers. “i was going crazy. i even let my friends talk me into hosting a party to distract myself.”

she smirked, tilting her head. “didn’t you have a party tonight?”

he kissed the corner of her mouth. “i told them to clear out.”

her brows lifted. “just like that?”

he nodded. “family went to alex and bry’s. the house is empty. i just want to see you. even if it’s just for a couple hours. hell, even if you fall asleep again.”

“auston,” she murmured, laughing softly. “i just go in. i haven’t showered yet. i smell like antiseptic and baby wipes.”

he gave her a look—half smug, half please don’t make me beg.

he stepped back slightly, reaching for the small gym bag by the door she had packed days ago but hadn't bothered with it after days of radio silence from her side. “come over, please,” he added, sheepish. “i know you were suppose to come the other night and i don't blame you for wanting space. but respectfully i don't want space. i want you with me.”

she blinked, staring at him. “you sure you want me over?

he shrugged, trying to play it cool but clearly failing by how pink his ears were. “i’ve missed you.”

her heart ached a little at the sincerity.

“you’re clingy,” she whispered fondly.

“you love it,” he shot back, smile wide and shameless.

she rolled her eyes, but she didn’t hide the grin tugging at her lips. “fine. i’ll come over. but only because i want to see felix.”

he laughed, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers like it was second nature.

“he’s missed you too. i showed him your picture and he whined.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re still coming.”

she didn’t even fight it.

truthfully, she wanted to be next to him. missed the warmth, the quiet ease of his presence, the way he looked at her like she hung the moon.

and maybe she needed that tonight.

as they stepped out into the warm arizona night, her hand still in his and her gym bag slung over his shoulder, she glanced over at him.

“you sure your house is empty?”

he smirked. “empty enough.”

“and you’re not just trying to get me in your bed?”

he leaned in, voice low and teasing. “i mean… not tonight.”

she snorted. “charming.”

he kissed her cheek, soft and sweet. “i’ll wait.”

“you better.”

“worth every second.”

and she didn’t say anything, but she squeezed his hand just a little tighter.

he kept true to his word—his house was practically empty, save for a few close friends who waved politely from the kitchen as she walked in. she recognized one or two vaguely from school, but before she could linger on the awkwardness, auston leaned close and whispered, “they’re leaving in like five. you’re the main event.”

and sure enough, within minutes, it was just them.

just her and auston.

he led her into the living room like it was sacred ground. the lights were dimmed low, soft amber glow from the lamp in the corner. the sectional was already laid out like a campsite—blankets piled high, throw pillows everywhere, even an extra comforter folded neatly at the edge. there was a candle burning that smelled like warm vanilla and clean cotton. she blinked, overwhelmed by how intentional it all felt.

“okay,” he said, proudly pulling out his phone. “i ordered tacos, wings, sushi, burgers, and thai food. and mochi. just in case.”

“what the hell, auston?”

he shrugged, smug. “you didn’t text me all week. i wasn’t about to guess wrong. i just got everything you’ve ever even looked at.”

she laughed, watching him kick off his shoes and settle into the couch like he’d been waiting for this night for years. maybe he had. and the strangest part? so had she.

“okay,” he said again, more serious this time. “now that you’re here, i have a confession.”

she raised an eyebrow, curling onto the couch as he tossed a blanket over her lap.

“i didn’t actually want to watch love island before.”

her eyes narrowed. “you lied to me?”

“technically, no. i just… didn’t care about it until you said you liked it. and then i kind of associated it with your voice and your laugh and this one time you texted me a meme at like one in the morning and said it reminded you of me.”

“the guy crying over his type while dating his type?”

“exactly. so now i’ve been saving it. for this.”

she stared at him, warmth rising in her chest. “you’re kind of an idiot.”

he grinned, settling beside her, so close she could feel the heat of him through their hoodies. “an idiot in love island prison.”

“you really waited to watch this?”

he nodded, completely serious. “every season. i’ve seen spoilers on tiktok, and i scroll past them. i suffer.”

she shook her head, laughing as she reached for the remote. “you’re unreal.”

“you’re welcome,” he muttered, cracking open a can of ginger ale and handing it to her like it was champagne. “let the chaos begin.”

as the theme music played and the neon intro started rolling, he shifted closer, their legs brushing under the blanket. she didn’t pull away.

neither did he.

they spent the next hour curled into each other like they were always meant to. food containers slowly opened around them like petals in bloom—sauce-stained napkins, stray rice grains, the smell of garlic and ginger and grease in the air.

they talked between episodes, teased each other about which contestants were the worst, shared bites of things, laughed when she spilled sauce on his shirt. and at some point, she leaned her head on his shoulder. and then, when the screen started to blur and the wine slowed her thoughts, he tilted his head and whispered, “you know you can just stay here, right?”

she mumbled something about toothbrushes and her hair products and clean underwear, but he was already reaching for the gym bag he’d repacked.

“i told you,” he said, voice soft in the glow of the TV. “i’ve been ready.”

and somehow, in the haze of late-night warmth and comfort food and the lull of soft british accents onscreen, she realized something:

so was she.

the hours slipped by like honey—slow, golden, and impossibly sweet. neither of them reached for the remote again after the fourth or fifth episode. it just played on in the background, the show more like ambience than actual entertainment now. he’d tucked her further into his side, absently running his fingers along her arm while she took another bite of pad see ew, groaning dramatically.

“i’m so full,” she mumbled, slumping into him with a heavy sigh. “i don’t think i can breathe.”

auston laughed, low and lazy. “you’re dramatic.”

“no, i mean it. i’m ninety percent noodles right now.”

“then it’s a good thing i’m strong,” he smirked, and before she could protest, he hooked an arm under her legs and lifted her up with ease, the blanket still tangled around her like a cape.

“auston!” she squealed, swatting at his chest as she clung to him. “put me down!”

“never,” he grinned. “you said you couldn’t breathe. i’m being a hero.”

“a dramatic one,” she mumbled into his shoulder, but she didn’t fight it anymore. not really. not when it meant being this close to him.

he carried her up the stairs effortlessly, barefoot and smug, until they reached the hallway and a door slightly ajar. as he pushed it open with his foot, she peeked her head up, glancing around the space.

it was clean. a little too clean. minimal. bed made perfectly, two duffel bags in the corner, one dresser, one nightstand. no real pictures, no clutter, nothing personal. sterile, in a weird way.

she twisted to look at him as he set her gently down on the edge of the bed. “you don’t really live here, huh?”

he rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “yeah. it’s… kinda like an airbnb at this point. my sisters make fun of me for it. say i only come home to do laundry and let mom feed me.”

“and avoid your sisters snooping through your stuff.”

“exactly,” he chuckled, watching her stand and stretch.

she gave him a teasing little glance over her shoulder. “well, if it’s an airbnb, you really should leave a better review next time. zero personality in here.”

he grinned, leaning back against the bedframe. “you offering to redecorate?”

“maybe,” she hummed, tugging her hoodie over her head. “after my shower.”

and then, with one last cheeky smile: “unless you’re still thinking of joining me.”

he raised his hands in mock innocence. “i’d never.”

“liar,” she laughed, disappearing into the ensuite.

he groaned softly once the door clicked shut, running a hand over his face as he sank fully into the mattress. what the hell was she doing to him?

he changed quickly in the guest bathroom down the hall, then came back to his room and climbed onto the bed, waiting for her. the sound of the shower running soothed him more than he expected. it reminded him she was here. not through a phone screen. not at work. here.

when she finally emerged, wrapped in one of his oversized shirts she must’ve pulled from his drawer, her hair damp and her skin glowing from the steam, he felt a dull ache in his chest. like something soft and permanent was carving its way in.

“hey,” she murmured, padding toward the bed.

“hey,” he echoed, reaching for her hand.

she slipped in beside him without hesitation, folding into the blankets, their legs tangling naturally under the covers. he shifted onto his side to face her, brushing a stray curl from her cheek.

“you look—”

“don’t say tired.”

“—beautiful.”

she smiled, eyes fluttering. “you’re just saying that ‘cause i’m not wearing your hoodie anymore.”

“no,” he said quietly. “i’m saying it because it’s true.”

her breath caught slightly at the way he said it—no teasing, no smirk. just truth, laid bare between them.

she reached for him then, fingertips brushing the side of his face before pulling him in, slow and sweet. their lips met again, deeper this time, unhurried and full of all the longing they’d held in over the last week.

his hand cupped her jaw, thumb tracing her cheekbone, and hers found his waist, anchoring them together. they kissed like they were trying to memorize it—every tilt, every soft sigh, every heartbeat stuttering beneath their skin.

when they finally broke apart, foreheads pressed close, he whispered, “i missed this.”

“me too.”

he pulled her in tighter, her back pressed to his chest as they nestled deeper into the bed, her body soft and warm against his.

“don’t leave tomorrow,” he mumbled into her hair.

“i wasn’t planning on it,” she whispered back.

and for the first time in a long time, neither of them needed to say anything more.

the next day, the afternoon sun shone through the living room blinds, striping the floor in warm amber light. she was on one end of the couch, legs crossed under her, finishing off the last few bites of takeout while auston lounged on the other, head leaned back, his fingers lazily toying with a strand of her hair draped over the cushion between them.

“you really don’t care about hockey at all, huh?” he asked, almost in disbelief, watching her wipe her fingers on a napkin.

she gave him a look. “you sound so offended.”

“i kinda am.” he sat up a little, brows raised. “i mean, not even a little bit? it’s the greatest sport in the world.”

“you keep saying that like it’ll change something,” she smirked, stretching her arms with a content sigh. “i grew up watching football. real football. cardinals all day.”

auston groaned like she’d personally insulted him. “god, i forgot about that. the cardinals?”

“yup.” she popped the ‘p’ with pride. “through the highs and many lows.”

he narrowed his eyes. “so you’d willingly sit through a four-hour football game with five commercial breaks every ten seconds but you won’t give hockey a chance?”

“correct.” she leaned into the cushion smugly. “besides, if i wanted to watch a bunch of men crash into each other at full speed, i’d just go to costco during a sale.”

“okay, ouch,” he said, hand over his heart. “that was below the belt.”

she grinned, reaching for her drink. “what can i say? i don’t really get the appeal. all that padding and angry skating.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. “you’re a critical.”

“i’m a realist.”

he leaned in, his tone dropping to something more genuine. “you know, if you ever gave it a shot—i think you’d love it. the game’s fast. it’s strategic. brutal sometimes, but it’s got heart.”

she blinked at him, slightly surprised at how serious his voice had gotten. “you really love it, huh?”

his gaze held hers. “it’s everything.”

and for a moment, her teasing softened into something quieter. something that reminded her how much the game had built him—the way it lived under his skin, the way his posture always shifted whenever it came up.

but of course, she couldn’t resist just one more jab.

“well,” she drawled slowly, sipping her drink, “i might have to start watching if only to keep up with your team.”

auston smirked. “finally, some sense.”

she tapped her fingers on her glass. “especially if nylander’s playing.”

his entire face froze.

“excuse me?” he deadpanned.

she bit her lip to hide her grin. “what? he’s cute.”

he looked personally betrayed. “willy?”

“mhm. that hair? come on. and those eyes?”

“you’re joking.”

she tilted her head innocently. “am i?”

auston stared at her for a long second before grabbing a throw pillow and launching it at her stomach. “i’m actually gonna kick you out.”

she burst into laughter, doubling over as he muttered dramatic curses under his breath.

“what happened to being a realist?” he huffed.

“i’m allowed to appreciate art,” she teased.

“that ‘art’ plans his outfits weeks in advance and takes longer in the mirror than anyone i know.”

“so do i. sound like we are a match” she shot back.

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “i can’t believe i brought you into my house.”

she leaned over, poking his chest. “aw, don’t be jealous. you’re still my favorite hockey player… barely.”

“wow.” he looked over at her, faux-offended. “i take it all back. you’re banned from coming to a game.”

“good. i was gonna root for the other team anyway.”

he lunged toward her like he was going to tackle her into the couch, and she shrieked, laughing as she tried to dodge.

“take it back!” he demanded through his smile.

“never!”

in the middle of their playful chaos, he caught her wrist and pulled her toward him, their laughter slowing, their faces just a breath apart now. the shift in energy was immediate—playful turned tender, a spark catching in the quiet space between them.

“even if you never watch a game,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to her lips, “i think you’re my favorite person who doesn’t care.”

she felt her pulse thrum, her fingers brushing his hoodie.

she remained curled up beside him, legs tucked under her, sipping slowly from a glass of iced tea. the silence was comfortable, filled with those soft in-between moments that only grew sweeter the more time they spent together. eventually, he broke it.

“so… you really never been on skates before?”

she tilted her head up to look at him, scrunching her nose. “never. not even once.”

“like… ever?”

“auston,” she laughed, nudging his chest, “i’m from arizona. i grew up in the desert. the only ice i ever saw was in my drink.”

he blinked at her, genuinely stunned. “you’re kidding.”

“nope.” she smiled at the disbelief on his face, kind of loving how personal the whole topic clearly was to him. “you forget—my hobbies were trying not to melt and learning how to drive with oven mitts in the summer.”

he groaned. “i don’t know if i should be impressed or horrified.”

“both,” she teased.

he shifted slightly so he could face her more, his thigh pressed snug against hers now. “so wait… you’ve never seen a hockey game either?”

she paused. “um… do the fights on espn highlights count?”

his hand fell over his chest in mock betrayal. “you’re breaking my heart, y/n.”

she laughed so hard she nearly spilled her tea. “i’m sorry! it’s just never been my thing. and you know i didn’t know who you were when we met.”

“yeah,” he muttered, smirking a little. “i remember. that part kinda stung.”

“oh please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “you liked it.”

he gave a lazy shrug. “maybe. little bit. but c’mon, i gotta fix this. you need to understand hockey.”

“do i, though?”

“yes,” he said, completely serious now, turning his body to face her fully. “you’re hanging out with a guy who’s played since he was two and doesn’t shut up about it. it’s time.”

she set her glass on the coffee table and leaned back, resting her head on his shoulder. “fine. teach me.”

he grinned, the kind of grin that made her stomach flutter in the most inconvenient and addictive way. “okay. so… hockey. six guys on the ice per team. one’s the goalie. the point is to score goals. obvious stuff. but the beauty’s in the plays. the speed. how things change every second.”

“sounds like chaos.”

“controlled chaos,” he said, the way someone does when they’re talking about something sacred. “fastest game in the world. everything’s always moving, everyone’s thinking like ten steps ahead.”

she watched him closely—how his eyes lit up, how his hands moved when he talked, full of that quiet passion that made it impossible not to be drawn in. it wasn’t about explaining a sport. he was letting her into something that built him, shaped him.

“so do you, like, have favorite moments?” she asked, soft now.

he blinked at her, caught off guard by the shift in tone. “yeah. a few.”

“like what?”

“first goal in the league. home opener in ottawa. it was loud—crazy loud. but there was this moment, right after i scored, where i just looked up into the crowd and it felt like… like i made it, you know?”

she smiled, something warm blooming in her chest. “of course you made it. if the first goal didn't say that. the next three definitely solidified your place in the league”

he turned to her shocked, "what? i had to know if i was dealing with a scrub" she winked but his face was already heating at the idea of her keeping tabs on his accolades. he leaned over and kissed her cheek to show his appreciation.

he looked at her then, the way someone does when they’re trying to memorize a face. “you wanna come to a game this fall?”

“i don’t know…” she smirked, reaching for her drink again. “i might get distracted.”

he raised a brow. “by what?”

she hummed dramatically, pretending to think. "your teammates. they're all seriously gorgeous”

his jaw dropped. “are you serious right now?”

“i mean,” she continued with a sly grin, sipping her tea, “i might have to become a leafs fan for him alone.”

“you’re not funny,” he muttered, poking her side while she squealed. “you’re an actual menace.”

“i’m just saying! the competition’s steep!”

“you’re killing me.”

she laughed so hard she nearly knocked over the remote. he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, half-exasperated, half-smitten.

“fine,” he said. “i guess you’ll just have to watch and decide for yourself.”

“mhm. i’ll come to a game,” she whispered into his shoulder, “but only if you teach me how to skate.”

he stilled for a second. “wait, seriously?”

“yeah. but i want the full experience. you gotta hold my hands and everything.”

“deal,” he said, instantly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “just don’t fall for my teammates when i’m gone.”

she burst into laughter again, burying her face into his chest as his arms wrapped around her.

and in that moment—just the two of them curled into each other on a couch in arizona—he felt more grounded than he had in years. because she didn’t care about the noise. she cared about him. and for the first time, he let her all the way in.

taglist — @celestixldarling @steph1106 @siennaluvshcky @macka

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fookinfandoms · 2 days ago

Text

Let’s Be Pals

one-shot(?)

Sir Jimmy Crystal x Reader

summary: You left Holy Island with your nephew Spike, not wanting him to be on the mainland on his own. With your sister now gone, he’s the only family you have left, that is until you come across a tiara wearing stranger.

a/n: Obviously ‘you’ as the reader are Scottish, given where we are in the film. This was just a random little thing I thought about and decided to write. I will sooooo delete this if his character ends up being incredibly irredeemable. Also in true me fashion, watch me turn this into a part one and part two. And the fact I’m writing something for this mf before Remmick, lord.

Not edited.

warnings: canon-typical violence (infected), blood, coarse language.

please let me know what you think! unless it’s to be mean, then die. likes and comments mean the world!

“Why did you stay with me?”

His voice is soft, surprising you yet again. Spike had been quiet for a few hours now, the young man still wondering over whether or not his decision to stay on the mainland was the right choice.

You turn to look at him, your eyebrow raised. “Hm?” The two of you had found a spot on the side of a decaying road, cooking a fish over a fire. “What’ya mean?”

He prods the fish with a stick again, turning it over the fire. “You should’ve stayed home,” Ah, here it is. “You didn’t have to stay with me, I would’ve been fine on my own.”

Shrugging, your back rests against a large rock as you watch him continue poking your dinner. “I know you would’ve,” Your hands play with the ripped fabric on your pants as you speak, your eyes scanning the environment every now and then. A machete pokes at your thigh, the large knife resting in its holster. It was uncomfortable in this position, but you knew better than to take it off. “Maybe I just wanted to enjoy the sights too, ever think of that?”

Spike turns to you with a blank expression, causing you to grin. Eventually his own lips tilt in a smile, and he rolls his eyes.

Twelve.

He reminds you of Isla in every way. She’s been gone for 28 days now, but deep down you knew she had been gone for awhile. When her mind let her, she was your older sister, the one who helped raise you after dad passed. The one who would speak of the mainland and how it was before the rage virus took over.

When her mind became clouded, you weren’t her little sister anymore, you would be mum, or nan, sometimes even calling you Spike.

You sniffed, bringing yourself back to the present. It didn’t matter, she wasn’t suffering anymore.

“You’re my blood Spike, where you go, I go,” Your elbow reaches out to nudge him as he nods reluctantly, feeling guilty for bringing you along. “I watched you be born lad, no way in hell would I let you go explore this shithole without me.”

“You were a kid when I was born.” He answers in a matter of fact tone, causing you scoff.

“Eighteen, thank you very much,” You begin to stand, stretching out your arms as you once again begin looking around, watching the two points of entry on the road. “Was about time your ma popped you out too, I was getting bored having no friends.”

“I was a baby.” Spike’s eyebrows furrow and you grin, shrugging again.

“Only new people we got on the island were babies Spike, if I wasn’t doing hunts - I was babysitting you.”

He nods again. You’d done countless trips to the mainland, being one of the top archers on Holy Island. The groups became smaller and smaller as more people stopped coming back, and eventually the hunts became just you and Spike’s dad, Jamie.

It was isolating in a way. You had been just a baby when the virus took over, having grown up on the island with your dad and sister before his passing shortly after. Some kind people took you both in, you both grew up, Isla married Jamie and started their little family as you shared a house with a different older couple.

You were surrounded by people, surrounded by a community that cared.

And yet, there still felt like there was nothing for you. Surviving was the goal in the end, but living felt nearly impossible. Majority on the island had already found their special place in the world, found their special someone.

It’s why you took up the hunting role as soon as you were old enough. Getting to see the mainland, exploring what once was, running into the odd village here and there. It kept you sane, even if the infected kept you awake at night.

As if hearing your thoughts, a shrill from an infected echoes off the rock walls around you. Immediately your hand reaches for the bow that rested on the ground, the other reaching for the quiver beside it, strapping it onto your back.

Spike stands as well, his gaze looking everywhere for the cause of the sound. “Should we move?”

You hold up a finger, telling him to wait. “We need to see which direction it came from,” You answer softly, reaching back to grab an arrow, nocking it, waiting for what’s to come. “No point running if we don’t know where it is.”

He nods, swallowing his spit as he readies his own bow. You look around again, hearing another shrill. The sound bounces around the rocky terrain, but eventually the body of an infected running from the west greets you.

So much for dinner.

The naked man sprints upon spotting you, his arms flailing around as he screeches. “We can take it.” Spike nods at the bloodied creature, and you shake your head.

“When there’s one there’s more,” You line up your shot, waiting for the infected to lift his head as he yells again. You release, and the arrow goes flying, landing in its forehead. “It was too loud, more will come.”

More sounds can be heard, one of them sounding almost like laughter.

A cheer.

More infected begin running in from the end of the road, and you grab Spike’s shoulder, pushing him forward to the east. “Go,” You push him a little harder, urging him to move. “We’ll flank them down, just like we practiced yeah?”

He nods with a shaky head, anxiety evident in his eyes as he grabs his bag, beginning to run in the direction you wanted. You take another infected down, a woman, and she falls roughly to the surface, tripping another.

Running after your nephew, he takes another infected down as you catch up to him, waving him forward to follow you. The two of you run side by side, occasionally turning around to take down more infected. Your thighs burn at the action, not having ran this much since your encounter with an alpha a few weeks ago.

Your stomach drops as you’re met with a face full of boulders. The screams of infected echo behind you as you search around for another exit, but the only way through is over. Grabbing Spike’s shoulder again, you begin pushing him towards the rocks, tilting your head towards the next step.

“C’mon lad! Up and over,” He’s got two feet on the first boulder as his eyebrows furrow, watching you intently. “Move Spike! Start climbing!”

Turning around again, you notice more of the infected beginning to follow after the first group, the numbers having doubled. Lining up another shot, you take one down as another falls limp behind it, Spike having killed the other.

“I’m not leaving you!” He yells, reaching back for another arrow.

“Am not arguing Spike,” Your words come out almost like a growl, wanting nothing more than to protect your nephew. “Climb, now!”

He jumps down beside you, and if there was time, there would’ve been a few coarse words leaving your lips. The boy shoots down another, the arrow landing in its throat as it gurgles and pummels to the floor.

The two of you continue, pushing back until your feet touch the rocks behind you. The infected just kept coming, the sick ones just following the screams of others for a chance of food.

Reaching back, your fingers flail around for another arrow, and your curse, realising you were out. Spike had a few more to go, and you throw your quiver to the ground, the bow following with it as you unholster your machete.

Spike’s eyes widen, and you press forward in an attempt to keep him behind you. “Spike,” you urge, turning your head slightly, keeping your eyes on the handful of infected continuing their run towards you both. “Please climb, now.”

You would never forgive yourself if something happened to him. Isla and your dad would be screaming in heaven at you for endangering him in any way.

“You’re out here because of me,” The twelve year old answers, his hands shaking as he nocks another arrow. “Where you go, I go.”

The wee bastard repeats your words from earlier, and you give him a tight smile, nodding once. “Alright, but if I do a really cool self sacrifice, ye better make sure your arse is over those rocks before I turn.”

He grimaces at the thought, and you don’t have time to reply, an infected lunging for you with a cry. Turning just in time, it falls against the boulders, and it’s about to lunge again when you strike, your machete reaching between it’s eyes.

Kicking it away, you begin charging forward, meeting the other in the middle. Swinging the large blade from the side, it hits the infected in the neck, the blood spraying around as you hide your head behind your arm, being sure to not get any in your eyes or mouth.

The cycle repeats a few more times, other infected being taken down by the tween behind you, but like clockwork, more begin to show up, clumped in twos or threes.

Jogging back to your nephew, he points out that he’s nearly out of arrows himself, and you frown, gripping the machete in your hand as you look back to the road.

There’s no way the two of you would be able to take them all down.

An arrow whizzes past you as Spike kills another infected, and a loud whistle from above brings your attention elsewhere.

Instinctively, you stand in front of Spike, finding a group of non infected standing around you two above on the hills.

They’re all blonde, holding various different weapons as they eye you both with grins.

Are those fucking tracksuits?

“Wonderful shot!” The man in the centre yells out, his knee bent against a rock as he grins. Gold jewellery stands out amongst his black and white track suit, rings adorning his fingers as he points down at the infected. “Mind if we step in?”

Your eyes narrow at the man, confusion evident in your features as the grip on your machete tightens. Blood drips from the tip as you hold it up towards the oncoming threat. “By all means!”

His grin grows, and the people around him begin chuckling, bouncing around as if they were eager to help.

“Hold.” He holds up his finger, eyeing the naked and bloodied people running towards you two.

They begin getting closer, too close for comfort, and your chest begins to ache in fear, stepping in front of Spike again with your machete raised. “Any fucking day now!”

The man’s head tilts as he chuckles, repeating the word. “Hold.”

You growl in frustration, walking forward and ready to strike at the infected that charges ahead at you. It’s head had just started flying through the air as you hear a swift and sharp ‘fucking go.’

Blond hair begins whipping around the site, the people from above flying down from the rocks with their large sticks. Some flip from their positions, landing near you as they begin attacking the infected, laughter filling the air as they smile from ear to ear, enjoying the kills.

Stepping back, you and Spike let the group take the remaining infected out, watching with furrowed eyebrows and confused expressions over what you’re both witnessing.

By the time the last one’s dead, the remaining member of the group, the one who had done all the talking, climbs down, joining the rest.

He walks towards you with a swagger, his eyes unashamedly looking you over. The grin doesn’t leave his lips, and he chuckles once more.

Is that a fucking tiara on his head?

“Well aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes,” He whistles again, his gaze never leaving yours. “That was some fine shooting before, real nice.”

You just nod, choosing to ignore the first part of his sentence and using the time to catch your breath after the ordeal.

He wasn’t ugly by any means, quite the opposite, but there was something about him you couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the fact that everyone around him had the same hair, or it was the tracksuits, either way, you had to be careful.

“Jimmy Crystal,” The stranger holds his hand out, the grin growing as he tilts his head, waiting for your reply. “And you are?”

“Grateful,” Is all you say, nodding towards Jimmy and his group. “Thank you… For uh, helping us.”

He pulls his arm back, but he doesn’t look annoyed by your dismissal, if anything, he’s more intrigued. He shrugs nonchalantly, looking at the dead infected as if they were a mere inconvenience. “No worry, couldn’t turn down a damsel in distress and her little lamb.”

He lifts his chin towards Spike, who still stood behind you. “What about you little man? That was quite some shooting coming from you too, your ma teach you that?”

“She’s not my… she’s not, this is my aunt,” He tells Jimmy your name, and you turn slightly, giving your nephew a look as if to say ‘really?’. He ignores you, keeping his attention on the blond man in front. “I’m Spike.”

“Spike,” Jimmy repeats, before his eyes lock in on yours once more. He repeats your name, slower than Spike’s, nodding as if giving his approval. “S’good thing seeing other families out here, don’t see it much nowadays.”

Families? Apart from the hair, his group didn’t exactly look related, but you kept your mouth shut. Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you realised you were still gripping your machete.

“I think you two need somewhere to rest yeah?” Jimmy claps his hands together, reaching out again with an outstretched hand towards Spike this time. “What’ya say, let’s be pals.”

Spike shakes his hand before you can protest, and the young man looks up at Jimmy with a worried expression. “My aunt’s been on watch the last few days,” You say his name in warning, hating that he was giving these strangers information, but he continues. “We just need somewhere where we can sleep for a few hours.”

“We’re fine Spike,” You butt in, raising a hand towards him, but he shakes his head, clearly still feeling guilty for your lack of rest and food. “We’ve thanked them, that’s all we can do.”

“Nonsense,” Jimmy snorts, his gold chains and crucifix swinging around his chest as he hunches over to face Spike at eye level. “You’re a good lad looking after your family, that’s the kind of people we like around here.”

Jimmy stands once again, walking closer to you as his grin softens, a softer smile on his face as he holds his hand out for the third time. “Come with us,” He says your name carefully, as if you’d strike him down for saying it. “Ye don’t know us - sure, but for Spike’s sake, let the boy have a rest… even if it’s just for a little bit, I think you both need it.”

Truthfully, you did. The fatigue was growing stronger, and you’d be no use to Spike if you couldn’t keep your eyes open. You knew he was just trying to find a way to make you agree, but there was still that lingering feeling of the unknown.

It was obvious you didn’t have supplies worth taking, and truthfully why would they bother saving you both just to kill you later?

“Okay,” You answer softly, seeing Jimmy’s eyes light up at your response. “But we won’t be staying long.”

The blond man raises his arms in defence, nodding before he pressed his hand to his chest. “Knowing such a beautiful creature such as yourself will be safe under my roof, I can die a happy man.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, before turning to Spike for a moment. “Can you go collect our arrows?”

The boy nods reluctantly, walking off to retrieve any that were still intact. You watch him for a second before looking back to Mr Crystal.

“You’re quite the character, aren’t you?” You ask, and he laughs loudly, almost proudly at the term.

He shrugs, answering you in between chuckles. “Not sure what ye’ mean?”

“You’re wearing a fuckin’ tiara,” You point towards his head with your free hand, before waving your finger towards the rest of his attire. “Not to mention all this.”

“You like?” He quips, and the words almost make you smile, almost, but it was enough for him to notice the subtle change in your face. “Yeah you do.”

Scoffing, you turn your attention back to Spike, who was busying himself a few metres away, pulling more arrows out of the dead infected.

“I meant what I said before, you’re quite the beauty aren’t ye?” Jimmy continued, and you scoff once more. “Not trying to be weird, just think we all need to spread the love around a bit more yeah?”

“I think this country has done enough spreading shite around,” You retort with a chuckle of your own, watching as Jimmy seems pleased at being able to get something other than reluctance out of you. “But thank you.”

“Don’t thank me love, it’s true,” He pats your shoulder gently. “We’re gonna be great pals you and I, I can just feel it.”

Strangely enough, you could feel it too.

#sir jimmy crystal #sir Jimmy Crystal x reader #jimmy crystal #Jimmy Crystal x reader #28 years later #why did I make this #WHY #BEFORE REMMICK?#stupid dream

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whimsywhomp · 3 days ago

Text

Forgotten but Not Alone

Part 3 of the Break In series - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Very tired as I post this so I might come back with edits, but here you go! More of my favorite guyyyy :D

Summary: Front Dorian has insisted on guarding the door from outside the house. This is all fine and dandy but not when there's rain pouring down.

You can't stand for this but when you get Dorian inside, he's still cold. What's going on here?

Read it on AO3 if you'd rather! :D

Rain was coming down in droves outside. You sit in the bay, watching the street outside become harder and harder to see through the mist. What a great day to be curled up cozy inside.

Did you jump when the first loud boom of thunder shook the walls of the house? That was no one’s business besides yours.

And the 4 other objects currently sitting in your living room chuckling and snickering at you.

So many managed to be here ever since TINFOILHAT had sent a remote update to the dateviators to try and speed up the whole destroying them thing. As a surprise to you and Skylar, reaching a relationship level with a dateable gave them the ability to appear to you at any time, without taking up any charges. Everyone had been caught off guard the first time you’d walked into the kitchen to see Mitchell and Daisuke arguing while Kopi tried to calm the two. Remembering their faces when they realized you could see them made you laugh every time you thought too long about it.

“Yeah, yeah, hardy har,” you snark, rubbing your arms to calm the goosebumps that have appeared. As soon as you do, you feel a small burst of heat from the vent. You shoot Hector a thankful smile, blowing him a kiss. You hear a small giggle as your gaze catches sight of the foyer where you see Office Dorian standing diligently. That’s nothing new, but what catches your attention is the small shiver you see him do.

An eyebrow rises. Dorian didn’t shiver. He didn’t really do much moving when everything was calm and cozy like this.

“Dorian? Everything okay over there?” You call.

His eyes shift over to look at you, giving you a curt nod. “Fine. Just a bit chilly.”

Chilly? Maybe by the window where you were but Hector was doing an excellent job of keeping the house at an optimal temperature. You hop up from your seat and make your way over to him. Is the vent over here blocked? You’re sure Hector would have said something. Dorian works so hard, you don’t want him to be cold while he does it.

But no, the temperature over here is fine. Dorian’s brow rises as you get closer, reaching out to touch his forearm with the back of your hand. You’re too quick to dodge and gasp as you feel the ice coldness of Dorian’s skin.

“You’re freezing!” You look up to him with alarm in your eyes. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

A slight flush has appeared on his cheeks as he looks uncomfortably to the side. He brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “...Yeah, I’m fine. It’s… not me.”

“You feel like an ice cube! You can’t expect me to believe that.”

You grab his other arm and feel that same cold. It's familiar. Almost like… how the glass of the window felt.

Wait a minute.

Your eyes dart to the front door. You focus but don’t see Front Dorian appear.

“Are you… he? Outside?” You ask, appalled. You don’t wait for an answer as you rush over to the front door and yank it open. Immediately you're hit with a blast of cold wet air. Standing in front of you, blocking most of it, is Front Dorian. He turns to you and you see his face is wet from the wind blowing the rain under the porch’s cover. The whole front of him looks damp and you see raindrops glistening in his beard.

“What are you doing out here?” You demand. The goosebumps are back with a vengeance and you’ve only been exposed to the cold for a minute.

“Guarding the house,” he gruffs like it should be obvious.

“Not out here you’re not! You’re gonna get sick doing that. Get in here!” You try to pull him inside but he stays firmly planted on the porch.

His eyes soften a bit as you glare up at him. “There’s too many hazards out here and I can’t see the whole front yard from inside.”

You stare at him for a moment before something clicks in your head. You sigh, letting your hands drop from his arm. “Is this about the break in?”

His jaw tightens at the mention of it. You thought he’d gotten past this need to be ever vigilant after the others had started making him relax but here he was again. It seemed a month was not long enough to convince Dorian that things were okay.

“Dorian, no smart criminal is going to be out there in this rain.”

He shakes his head solemnly. “This is the perfect setting for another… incident. We can’t be too careful.”

You sigh, “I think you can. In fact, I think you’re being reckless. Come inside, please?”

You hold your breath but Dorian only maintains eye contact before turning away to resume his post. You huff but don’t shut the door. You’re not out of ideas just yet after all. You shoot Office Dorian a look but he’s staring at the stairs in front of him, pointedly avoiding your gaze. That was fine, you had other allies.

“Guys,” you whisper as you hurry back to the living room. Four sets of eyes peer up at you from the coffee table. You’d all been in the middle of some board games with Telly running quietly in the background. Luckily, everyone in the house is well acquainted with Dorian’s strong will. Tyrell, Mateo, Parker, and Dasha look up as you return. “Dorian’s just standing out there in the rain. Help me bring him in?”

Immediately, Tyrell nods, passion for warm dry softness apparent as he jumps up to his feet. Dasha stands, cracking her knuckles, which makes you rethink this for just a moment. You shake the worry out of your head though. Dasha is a gentle soul. It wasn’t like she was going to hurt Dorian. Parker flashes you with a thumbs up while Mateo just looks nervous.

“Mateo and Tyrell, you guys get a nice comfy spot ready over here with some towels and blankets. Parker, go ask Dante to get a fire started. Dasha, let’s go bring this stubborn fool inside.”

“Yes, let’s,” she says, following after you.

This time when you open the door, Dorian ignores you. That was fine. With Dasha here, you didn’t need him to pay attention to you.

“Alright stubborn door man, that is enough outside time for you,” Dasha says, grabbing Dorian by his upper arms and swinging him inside. He lets out a startled ‘oof’ as he tries to regain his footing while jerking out of Dasha’s hold but she’s already pushing him into the living room.

“This is completely-”

“-necessary,” you finish for him.

Dasha nods as she marches him to the side of the couch by the fireplace that the trio had gotten set up with blankets. Dante has the fire going already, surprising you at how fast he worked. You hear Parker come down the stairs. He rounds the corner, arms full of fluffy towels with Tyrell right behind him.

“I thought we were past this,” you scold, taking a towel.

Dorian tries to resist for a moment before he decides he’s caught. With Dasha here, he’s not going anywhere. He scoffs as he relents and sits in the blanket nest Mateo had conjured.

“Catching colds instead of burglars,” Tyrell murmurs.

Dorian shoots him a glare, opening his mouth to say something but you take his hat off and start drying his hair and face off. You, Dasha, and Tyrell stick around to make sure Dorian doesn’t go anywhere while the others reset the game you were all in the middle of. You don’t regret your methods of getting him inside, especially now that you can feel him shivering.

“See, isn’t this much better?” You ask, moving the towel to sit on Dorian’s head. He meets you with the most unamused look you’ve ever seen.

“A little rain won’t kill me. This was completely unnecessary and frankly an impediment to household security. If we had a court system, you would all be fined.”

“That’s nice Dorian, now take off your wet shoes and socks. You’re still shivering.”

“What!”

“You’re next to the fire, you’re all warm and not soaked, but you’re still shivering. Isn’t that concerning at all to you?” You ask incredulously. It’s calmed somewhat but Dorian’s skin is still icy.

“The only concerning thing to me is the unguarded front door.”

“Office Dorian is still over there and he’s got Bathroom Dorian to help him out if anything happens.”

Dorian sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. When he looks at you again, his eyes are tired. It makes you frown. You hope this anxiety Dorian has about the security of the house fades soon. He’s running himself ragged.

“They aren’t the front door. I am. This is my job.”

“They’re also you. You don’t think they can handle it? Truthfully?”

A huff was the only response you got. Dorian’s interest in honesty was serving you well. It would serve himself too if he’d just relax and get warm. There was a slight flush that had appeared across Dorian’s cheeks that was starting to concern you. A thought occurred to you and you looked over to Tyrell. “Can you guys get sick?”

“Hmm?” he looked up from where he’d been gathering the damp towels. “Well, sure we can. It doesn’t happen often but it's possible.”

While the two of you talked, Dorian tried to stand. Dasha was quick to clap a hand on his shoulder and push him back down. “No no, you will stay right here. Kick back feet and relax.”

You crouch down, nodding along to Dasha’s words. “Let’s get these shoes off since you won’t do it.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed but he seemed ready to call it quits as he let out a breath. His shoulders sagged and he waved your hands away. “Fine, fine, but I’ll do this.”

You lean back, beaming. “Feel free.”

You all spend the next 20 minutes talking, setting up the next game, and waiting for Front Dorian to stop shivering. He doesn’t though. He swears only his outer layers had gotten wet, which is confirmed when he shows you the part of his button up that was hidden under the jacket. It’s dry and even Dorian’s hair has dried but he’s still chilled. Though now he’s shivering like Office Dorian was; very little but that tenseness in his body continued to linger.

“I don’t get it. Why are you still so cold?” You ask, putting a hand to his forearm again. Dorian had shifted to sit with his legs crossed. The warmth of the fire had finally gotten to him, making him lean forward with his face propped on his fist. You tactfully choose not to mention the heavy blinking he’s doing. You’ll bet he did make himself sick, especially since that flush has stubbornly stayed put.

He could only offer a shrug, brain working a bit slower now. “‘S possible… that…” he yawned, then shut his eyes, breathing softly for a moment.

You hated to wake him but you weren’t sure if this was serious. Dasha and Tyrell were giving him worried looks too. You knew this wasn’t just you being confused and it seemed like only Dorian had the answer.

Gently, you shake his shoulder. His eyes snap open but almost immediately go back to their half-lidded state. “What’s possible?” you ask quickly.

He only looks at you before his eyes shut again. He starts to lean heavier on his fist, tilting dangerously to the side. Before you can call out a warning, Dasha is behind him, slowly guiding him down to lay in the blankets.

Wow, you didn’t think Dorian was that exhausted. The rain must really take it out of him.

What was wrong though? That was still a problem. You look down at him and touch his forehead and cheek with the back of your hand. It’s only a little warm though. You could write it off as being so close to the fire. You’re about to try waking him up anyway when he shivers again.

“Do the Dorians share feelings across all their forms?” You ask, looking around at the faces who would know better than you.

A look crosses Mateo’s face as he nods, “Y-Yeah, actually. But, who’s still wet?”

The answer pops into your mind immediately. You stand and rush to the back door, Dasha and Tyrell following. Understanding dawns on them as you jerk the door open. Instead of the sight of Dorian’s back greeting you, your eyes travel down to see Back Dorian sitting on the ground, curled up with his head leaning on his knee as the rain soaks him to the bone.

#date everything #date everything dorian #dorian #date everything player character #fanfiction #date everything fanfiction #hurt/comfort #whump

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aspoonofsugar · 3 days ago

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SOTR Thoughts

Just finished the book, here some thoughts in random order!

A DARKER TALE FOR DARKER TIMES

Sunrise Of The Reaping is probably the darkest and most violent tale of the Hunger Games Books so far. Even more so than The Ballad Of Birdsongs and Snakes, which is an elegant Shakespearean tragedy. SOTR is instead an Orwellian dystopian novel. Especially if one considers that the epilogue is not really a conclusion of the story told in the book, but it builds on the the main trilogy, which is about hope and revolution. If Haymitch's story consisted of only this one book, well... the final line would be a very very bitter "Happy birthday".

I personally think that this Orwellian inspiration and the darkest tones tie into the current times, unluckily. I mean, I think nobody missed Plutarch's reference to GenAI, when he talks about this technology that their ancestors destroyed because it let you manufacture fake things out of thin air. This allusion alone made me think... If Panem had GenAI, could Katniss and Peeta even beat the games the way they do in the books? Because I think it is at least debatable.

Katniss and Peeta manage to beat the Gamemakers because they use situations and details Capitol either can't edit or would not want to edit.

There is no way the Gamemakers would not want to use the tragic story of the Starcrossed Lovers of District 12 for the show. At the same time they have to at least show a glimpse of Rue's body covered in flowers. Something that means nothing for Capitol, but a lot for the Districts. Still, with GenAI (especially a GenAI empowered by science-fiction logic, but not even that much tbh), you could easily edit the flowers out, if you wanted. Even more so, in 5 minutes you could create a fake scene where Katniss kills Peeta, then kidnap both, kill Peeta and force Katniss to play the Victor by using Prim and her mother as leverage. I think she would have complied.

TAKE BACK THE NARRATIVE

Of course and on a lighter note, SOTR also makes clear propaganda is not invincible and that things change and that there is the right time for every dictatorship or state to fall. Haymitch's time was not right, while Katniss and Peeta's was. They were luckier. Even more importantly, though, there is a difference in how Haymitch and Katniss fight Capitol.

First of all, there is the obvious paradox that Haymitch wants to rebel and to fight Capitol to begin with, whereas Katniss mostly wants to survive and to ensure the survival of her loved ones. In this they are opposites:

Haymitch starts as hopeful and idealistic. He shows his love openly to others, has dreams of marrying Lenore Dove and to have kids with her. He dreams of a normal life.

Katniss is cynical and represses her care for others. She is focused on survival even in her everyday life in District 12 and never wants to have kids of her own. She thinks love is a weakness because it makes you vulnerable and takes control away (hello Katniss's inner Snow :P). She dreams of no happy future.

This ends up giving Katniss an advantage because nobody truly expects her to rebel to the extent Haymitch does. Haymitch is put under special observation and targeted even before the games start. Katniss is one of the many before the start of the games. Haymitch does not want to play; he wants to die by sabotaging the arena. Katniss is initially willing to play along; she wants to try and become a victor. And here comes the key difference between the two.

Haymitch wants to "write his own story", to show the truth to the Districts and Capitol alike. He uses a "bad boy" persona to hide his plan, but ends up a prisoner of this mask, which ensures he can never tell his own story. Why should people believe his version, when the character he willingly chose for himself is that of a self-centered, brash smuggler? One with no important ties and that works alone? Throughout his narration, Haymitch's focus is on how to hide things from Capitol. He must hide his true personality, his love for others and his plan. He uses his character to do so, but this works so well the Gamemakers can easily use his own persona against him. The version they come up with is so believable years later both Katniss and Peeta accept it without doubts. They are both like "oh yeah, this checks".

Katniss instead does not want to write her own story because, to be frank, she is unable to. She feels powerless, has no social skills and believes she can be no interesting character. It is really Peeta the genius writer there, who finds a character for her aka "the object of his love". This idea is liked SO MUCH by Capitol, they choose to follow Peeta's script. And Katniss does too. Katniss doesn't choose her own character, but she finds herself trapped in it. And she detests it. And yet, she plays along as any good tribute should do. In fact, Katniss's narration focuses on what to show Panem. What should she show for sponsors to like her, for them to send her medicine and food? It is not easy for her to be charming (or so she thinks), so she has to put effort into it. And by the end she is able to use the persona Peeta and the Gamemakers gave her to take back control of the narrative. She doesn't write her own story, but she gives it a good finale: a double suicide. After all, who are the most famous Star Crossed Lovers ever, if not Romeo and Juliet? And how does their story end, if not with them being unable to live without each other? Capitol's Gamemakers should have really read more Shakespeare to better control the narrative :P

So, neither what happens in Haymitch nor Katniss's games is really the truth. Neither of them are able to write their own story, simply because the world they are in won't let them. They are able to do so only years later, when they write a memorial book for their lost loved ones. And even then it is a personal book, something they do for themselves. (Even if maybe they will public it one day or it could be published after their deaths).

Writing your own story in the Hunger Games is impossible because the Games will always use you. What you should do to defeat them is to use the Games yourself. Katniss succeeds because she does this. She uses the story given to her and makes it her own. And then she gives it to the people, who make it theirs. Ironically the destruction of the Games comes from the Games themselves. After years of frankly stale propaganda (Haymitch's true story is definitely far more engaging than the censured version Capitol serves), the Gamemakers find a genuinely great story they think they can use and are SO HAPPY ABOUT IT. And yet, as every good story, this narrative completely escapes their control. It resonates with people on many levels and in different ways. It makes Capitol's people feel something real for once. It makes the District overcome their fear and embrace their anger and desire for freedom.

And I wonder (with zero competence to do so, so take it as just my random thoughts) if what should be done in this new era of propaganda is to try and take back good stories. To take back narratives. Because as for now I think the right wing is the one with the strongest narrative tbh (or at least the loudest)...

Which is why whenever I think about cases like Isabel Fall's Helicopter Story , I can't help but getting angry. A Helicopter Story is about taking a transphobic slur to start a debate about gender and it is written by a trans woman. It is a great example of taking back a narrative. Except, many people (even in the LGBTQ+ community) basically decided it was wrong because it went against mainstream and accepted ways to discuss gender. Congratulations, you silenced a trans voice. How many other voices are you silencing with your bigotry and unwillingness to truly think and debate things masked as purity pure wokeness?

Similarly, whenever I see a Tumbrl post laughing and saying... "man, right wingers are so stupid... they are quoting book/song/movie xyz and they do not know it was written by xyz and do not understand that its real message is xyz..." my heart dies a little. Maybe we shouldn't laugh. Maybe this appropriation of content and narratives while interesting voices are destroyed because "not purity pure enough" is precisely why they are winning. After all, we should have read somewhere 2+2 can become 5 if everyone believes it and nobody questions it. And if we haven't, maybe there is another, MUCH more haunting dystopian novel we should read after the entertaining, adrenaline-filled and ultimately adventure-driven Hunger Games. I know, I know, the protagonist is so unlikable and problematic, but he still has something to say. And maybe we all are much more similar to him, than to the heroic Katniss and Haymitch. I dunno about you, but in the games I would die in the initial bloodbath :P

BIRDS, SNAKES AND GIRLS

After this slightly preachy moment (sorry :'')), I wanna actually make clear how much I liked the book! I especially loved its female characters and their different motifs.

So, all the major female characters (not sure about the male characters, I should think more about it later) are linked in different ways to both birds and snakes. This is no surprise given how much this double symbolism is key to the whole saga. Everyone is both:

A Songbird

A Snake

Like Lucy Gray, like Coriolanus, like Haymitch, like Katniss, like Peeta. Everyone has within themselves opposite forces fighting and we must choose who we will be. Well, the same can be said for our four main girls of SOTR: Lenore Dove, Maysilee and Louella/Lou Lou. All four have a duality to them. In particular, they are birds either poisoned by snakes or forced to become snakes.

Lenore Dove is the most bird-like of them all, as she is associated to two opposite birds: a dove (white) and a raven (black), so white + black = gray (dove color). Gray, like life (dove/color) and death (the Raven/poem). Gray, like Lucy Gray, the aunt her uncles and Snow project on her. The aunt her uncles do not wanna Lenore Dove to follow in the footsteps of. The aunt Snow condemns to repeat the life of... She is gonna leave Haymitch behind, no matter what. She is poisoned by a snake (snow himself, the Devil who acts as God) thanks to a red sweet (a piece of the arena in the real world, an apple) given to her by the person she loves (Adam and Eve). She is killed for a sin Snow blames on her. Haymitch's? Lucy Gray's? Snow's owns? Not important. She is an angel killed by the Devil in a heavy edited version of the Bible. Because that is also what propaganda does. It takes evil and presents it as good. It takes good and makes it look evil.

On a character level, Lenore Dove's birth itself is rooted in death (Maude Ivory's, but also the never forgotten loss of Lucy Gray). She is born to have a better life than her mother and aunt. She is her uncles' second chance to protect their sisters from "bad boys". She is their "lost lenore". Something good born from the grief. That is why she is called Lenore, the one who is no more, but that still walks among them as per a miracle. That is why she is called Dove. Gray, like Lucy, but with some pink in it, like Ivory's white has some yellow. A wish for a better future. And yet, she too gets lost in a snow storm. She too is lost because of a "bad boy".

Still, I wonder what was like for Lenore Dove to live as a replacement goldfish for Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory. Maybe it was the constant projection that made her so willing to rebel. And maybe this is precisely why she could not stand Maysilee. Not because of her bitchy attitude. Not because Maysilee figured out her secret political agenda. But because deep down Maysilee is like Lenore Dove. A canary in a cage.

Maysilee has a canary in a cage and Lenore Dove hates her for it. And yet, the canary is clearly a symbol of Maysilee's life. She is a pretty bird in a cage of privilege. Sure, she has expensive gifts, beautiful clothes and jewels, but she is forced to be someone she isn't. She is forced to sit in a sweet shop focusing all her creativity in coming up with new receipts. She has no choice. And then, she is ripped and she has to go in a bigger, more lethal sweet shop (the arena), where she is forced to wear more lethal jewels (the blowgun) and to come up with more lethal receipts (her poisoned darts). From beautiful frail bird to lethal snake. Still an animal. So, it is meaningful she chooses to give the name of her canary to Lou Lou.

Louella and Lou Lou are two sides of the same coin. They are a bird (Louella) closed in a caged and turned into a snake (Lou Lou). They are one of Capitol's hybrid. They are two people cut and re-arranged in one. Louella is compared to a bird. Lou Lou loves snakes, is given poison and is an unwilling spy. Louella is negated her death. Lou Lou is negated her life. Whenever the bird in Lou Lou comes out (her singing, her calling her captors assassins), she is immediately given poison that changes her back into a snake. Louella and Lou Lou are an extreme version of all the other characters. Humans Capitol turns into monsters. Human Hybrids. That is what neither Lenore Dove nor Maysilee want to become.

Maysilee makes this clear when she explains why she hates the Mockinjay pin. She doesn't dislike it aesthetically. She dislikes the bird because she sees it as an unnatural hybrid. It is an imitation, a copy. Like what her parents forced her to be all her life. One of two twins, always dressed the same. Maysilee, a made up name to mirror Merrilee's. It is unnatural and fake. And we know Maysillee loves genuine things. Like being direct. Like growing up old and beautiful and herself like her grandmother, who is the opposite of Capitol's fake eternal youth. Maysilee wants to live and die as herself, so she dislikes the Mockingjays. And yet, she is wrong and Haymitch points it out to her. Mockingjays were born because Capitol, but they outlived Capitol. They escaped its control. And so Maysilee thinks about giving her pin a second chance. Only for her to die killed by a flock of hybrid birds.

The choice of the hybrids was not accidental. They could have used the squirrels, like with Maritte. And yet, they chose the birds, after what she told Haymitch about not wanting to be a hybrid bird. They did so to tell her she is their bird hybrid until the very end. She is the hybrid who fought back (the murderer of the Gamemakers) and so she must be killed. Just like the jabberjays. That is all. And yet, even if the jabberjays got extincted they gave birth to something new. From their ashes, the mockingjays were born. From Maysilee's ashes, Katniss is born. From hers, Haymitch, Louella, Lou Lou, Wyatt, Amper and many many others'. Katniss is born from everyone's ashes. A girl who gives a new chance and a new life to Maysilee's pin. A memento everyone can make a spark in the right circumstance.

TRUTH AND LIES

The main theme of the book is propaganda, which uses human duality to its advantage. So, the motif of duality is everywhere. The real question is... are you able to identify the truth from a lie, the original from a copy?

The people of Panem can't as they forget Lucy Gray, accept the heavily edited version of the 50th games and drink Capitol's propaganda.

Haymitch himself loses this ability for a while, lost in alcohol and pain. It is symbolized by his dream where he can't distinguish Louella from Lou Lou anymore. And for a moment this nightmare becomes true when he thinks Merrilee is Maysilee. A small foreshadowing of him embracing his personal propaganda. The one Snow created for him. That he could never love anyone anymore. He accepts it and cuts everyone off. He lives alone and lonely for years. And yet, in the end, he learns to love again. Probably he never truly stopped. Katniss, Peeta, his ducklings, the symbolic children of him and Lenore Dove. All the children who will be born free of the games thanks to him, Maysilee, Wyatt, Louella, Lou Lou, Amper, all the other tributes. For years Haymitch believed all he did was useless. But it wasn't. His and Amper's was a first attempt, so that Katniss and Peeta's one could work. His survival let him be there to guide them. And he survived because Maysilee saved him from Panache and helped him reach the magnetic field. He is there because Lou Lou died smelling a flower and made him understand flowers were poisonous. And Lou Lou found Haymitch because Wyatt protected her during the bloodbath. And Wyatt grew fond of Lou Lou because Snow gave her to them as an insult to Louella. And he did so because Louella's death was so tragic the other District 12 Tributes could not let it slide and they forced even Snow to recognize it. Finally, Haymitch survives because Lenore Dove begs him to and asks him to fulfill a promise to her. Which is the same promise Maysilee silently asks him and Amper has not time to ask. To stop the games.

Ultimately, Snow's propaganda failed. Not only with the games, but with Haymitch himself. Snow tried to turn Haymitch into a copy of himself, identical to the original. Still, he failed 'cause Haymitch never gives up love, like Coriolanus did. He remains his true self. Because the most horrific and powerful propaganda is not the one which comes from outside, but the one which comes from inside. It is the lies we tell ourselves out of fear and pain. Like Haymitch believing they can truly take his humanity away. Like Coriolanus who tells himself Lucy Gray never loved him and that he never loved Lucy Gray. Or Sejanus. A lie he tells himself to justify himself and that ends up deforming everything. Yes, the first victim of the Capitol's propaganda Coriolanus Snow himself. The Snow who believed Gaul's ideology. The Snow who gives up on truth and becomes a snake who uses poison. But also a bird who keeps poisoning himself. To survive and to kill. Never to truly live. The Snow who can never see anyone else for their true self. The Snow who sees Lucy Gray Baird everywhere. In Lenore Dove, in Katniss. The Snow who tries to negate his own humanity by negating others.

Still, you can't negate one's humanity:

No, sir, Nothing you can take me from me is worth dirt. Take it, 'cause I'd give it free. It won't hurt. Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping!

Haymitch by the end remembers this song, whereas Snow never does, even if it is the first song ever he listens Lucy Gray sing. On the Sunrise of her Riping. And so, even if it seems Snow won in Sunrise Of The Riping, he really doesn't because he fails to impose his cruellest propaganda. He fails to take away everyone's humanity.

Wyatt dies protecting a child with zero chance of surviving. Maysilee dies without her voice, but she finds a final way to communicate with Haymitch by using her hands (the pinky promise), the true secret behind her art and craft. Even Lou Lou in the end dies because of who she was, not because of who Capitol turned her into. Her final gesture is to smell flowers which remind her of home. Lenore Dove doesn't die like Lucy Gray. She dies in the arms of the boy she loves while trusting him until the very end. The opposite of Lucy Gray who disappears mysteriously after Coriolanus breaks her trust. Never giving him the closure Haymitch gets. Never letting Snow truly control her. So, in the end, the only humanity Coriolanus Snow sacrificed is really his own.

#hunger games #sunrise on the reaping #sotr #sotr spoilers #hunger games meta #my meta #haymitch abernathy #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #lenore dove baird #maysilee donner #lou lou #louanna mccoy #wyatt callow

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my-my-my · 7 hours ago

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This is for Day 1 of @bleachsmutfest! A modern Aizen x Reader.

This is different from my usual writing style, as it is completely in 3rd person (I was trying to write this from Aizen's perspective), so heavy use of "she/her" pronouns, but no specific physical features of reader are mentioned.

Summary:

In reality and In dreams both, ‘tis her I meet at night, so Until the twilight comes I have no joy, at all.

Teiji-in uta’awase 29

CW: Fingering, modern AU (Aizen is a researcher), third-person perspective.

Word count: 2351 words

Read on AO3 here.

Since he was a small child, Aizen Sosuke had been plagued by vivid dreams. It bothered him like no other. Intense dreams, dreams that felt real once he awakened. It resonated something deep within him, fueling his motivation to go beyond the confines of family medicine, general surgery, and into the deep trenches and undiscovered mysteries between neuroscience, physiology and psychology.

Sleep was a fundamental part of humans. A fundamental function for all living creatures.

But dreams? What purpose did they have? It was something he would struggle to answer as he delved deeper in the field.

Sosuke’s pursuit of knowledge, his insatiable thirst for answers, had a secondary effect on him – it made him well-renowned in the field of sleep medicine. He was invited to talks, to presentations, a president of the Sleep Society in Japan. He became one of the lead academics and doctors internationally in the field.

But yet, he still was left with questions.

Particularly, why someone such as him, was plagued with a specific person entering his dreams. The person, who eluded him like no other. They remained consistently the same since he was a child.

As Sosuke leaned into his office chair, once again consumed by his thoughts about his dreams, he wondered why this specific person continuously remained persistent. It was something he still never understood – the science just couldn’t answer for it.

He knew of various cultural meanings, but… he didn’t care for them. Anthropological data had some interest to him, but he was not interested in the realm of psychics and the obscure.

The first dream he recalled with his mystery person, he vaguely remembered he dreamt he was an adult. The details were lost to time, but he was getting married – that much he remembered. And the elusive person was his partner, his bride-to-be.

As he grew older, the woman became more solid to him. She was an acquaintance in some dreams, the mother of his children in others. He dreamt of him dying while she wept next to him.

To Sosuke, it felt like he spent a lifetime with this person. He could hear her laughter so clearly on some days. Other days, the swaying of flowers reminded him of her smile.

And it infuriated him, to be consumed by such thoughts. Thoughts he could never answer for. The dream of her haunting his waking life as he struggled to date real humans.

The men and women he dated, mostly brief dates, left him feeling more alone. There were things that they would say, things that they would do, that left him feeling lonely. Sosuke wondered briefly, if he was subconsciously comparing them to this imaginary woman, but he would immediately deny it after. Dr. Aizen Sosuke was a man of science and curiosity, but he had no need to entertain such ideas.

He pushed back his brown hair, closing his eyes briefly. It was getting late, and he knew better than anyone else, that sleep was necessary to answer the questions of tomorrow.

“Dr. Aizen, I’ve attached the draft of my manuscript based on the REM dream clinical trial. Your comments and feedback are greatly appreciated.” His post-doctoral student, Hinamori Momo said in her email.

It was a standard manuscript, no earth-shattering results, as they found some association with REM sleep and brain plasticity. He left comments and suggestions for edits on her manuscript, inserting relevant papers to include in the discussion.

But he frowned. It had been a few years now since he last dreamt of the mystery woman. The last dream he could recall with her was incredibly brief in his mind. Her voice echoing, “you’re so cute, Sosuke!”

And now… he was left with no more traces of her except for his memories. Nothing tangible, nothing real. Sosuke thought he was haunted by her presence, but…

He hated to admit it, especially to himself.

But he missed her.

Which led him to a bigger, existential and philosophical question, how could he miss someone who wasn’t real to begin with?

He studied the nature of anima, the complexities of dreams picking apart people in his waking life and inserting them into mind as he dreamt, but this woman, he knew he had never met her before.

Sosuke closed his laptop, deciding fresh air and some time to observe people, was what he needed. While he would say he was a relative creature of habit, today he decided to go to another part of the city he didn’t frequent, a café he had never gone to, on the sheer whim and curiosity to find something to stimulate his mind.

A pair of sunglasses adorned his face as he strolled into the café. It was busy, loud with various people going to and fro. With the warmer weather, the café opened up a patio, one he accepted to sit at. He quietly sipped his drink, his eyes watching people with intensity masked by the dark lenses of his glasses.

Children crying for ice cream, parents trying to console their weeping children. Groups of youth laughing and playing music loudly as they walked along the sidewalk. Sosuke took in the shops surrounding the café, there was a franchise bookstore nearby, with a few restaurants dotting the street. A stationery shop he had heard in passing was next door but it seemed empty.

Nothing really stood out to him, but it was a needed distraction, nonetheless. Sosuke watched people as he drank his coffee in silence. He was dressed inconspicuously, an average man at an average café, blending in with the surrounding crowd.

But he heard quiet, hushed whispers and some giggling. He grimaced slightly.

“You should go talk to him. He’s kind of cute!” Someone remarked.

“Oh I don’t know, he’s just minding his own business.”

“If you’re not, I will.” Someone else laughed.

Sosuke took a glance and saw a few women quickly turn their heads away from him. They must have been a few years younger than him, but he wasn’t amused. He counted in his head as he looked out the patio again, trying to find someone to fixate on.

Thankfully for Sosuke, his coffee was finished, as he continued to hear the women debating on whether or not to approach him. He thanked the barista for his drink and for some reason, he decided to enter the stationery shop.

He enjoyed calligraphy, one of the few hobbies he shared when people tried to get to know him. A man of many talents, calligraphy seemed to be a crowd pleaser when he shared some of his work. He had particular shops he preferred to visit in the city, but this one was new.

There was another customer inside, but once Aizen took off his sunglasses, his eyes widened.

The woman of his dreams, being helped by the clerk in the shop. Sosuke’s heart raced as he began to feel light-headed.

“Welcome! Sir wait!!” was the last thing Sosuke remembered as he collapsed in the store.

Sosuke awoke to the sound of monitors beeping, his body feeling exhausted, and confusion filling his mind. He looked down his body and saw an IV drip hooked into him.

“You’re awake, thank god!” He turned his head to the sound of the woman’s voice. A familiar voice.

His eyes widened again.

“You gave us all a scare. I wasn’t sure if you were with anyone, but I couldn’t leave you alone at the hospital.” She spoke softly.

Sosuke was in disbelief, the voice, the eyes, the physical presence…

“Have we met before?” Sosuke asked, confusion evident in his voice.

He watched the woman shake her head, “I mean technically yes, in the store.” She let out an awkward laugh, a laugh he had heard countless of times, “but we haven’t met before.”

“This is kinda weird,” she laughed again, a sound he couldn’t believe he was happy to hear again, “you’re Dr. Aizen Sosuke, right?”

He nodded his head, “I assume emergency services checked my wallet.”

She nodded her head introducing herself, “it feels kind of unfair, so call us even now” she replied softly.

He murmured her name under his breath, a strange weight creeping on his chest.

“Aizen-san, emergency services tried to contact your next of kin, but there wasn’t anyone.” She spoke again, “do you have anyone I can call to let them know you’re here?”

The familiar feeling of loneliness panged inside him. A man with countless of contributions to the field of sleep medicine, academia and the world alike, yet… no one he comfortably felt he could rely on.

His mind raced, he supposed his post-doctoral student Hinamori Momo, but he didn’t want to feed her crush on him.

In the distant past, possibly Ichimaru Gin, the forensic investigator he worked with briefly.

Or Tosen Kaname, if he were still alive.

Kurosaki Ichigo had a family of his own now, not having spoken to his bright pupil in many years.

But it would be a cold day in hell if he spoke to Urahara Kisuke again. Hirako Shinji would laugh and hang up.

“No one.”

She frowned so deeply… sadness etching her features, a sadness he wanted to remove from her.

“If I have your permission, I’ll take you home.” She spoke gently, concern evident in her voice.

He held up his hand, “please. It’s not an issue. You must go home yourself.”

But she vigorously shook her head, an action that felt nostalgic to him.

“I can’t, in good conscious, leave you like this.”

Sosuke frowned, his heart feeling heavier and heavier as strange emotions filled him.

But before the two of them could argue, the emergency doctor came in and took Sosuke’s vitals once again. What caused his collapse couldn’t be determined (but Sosuke had a hunch), but his vitals were normal, and he was healthy in body and mind, thus fit to go home.

“If anything, let me get you a lift home.” She said, pulling out her phone. “I’ll call and pay for it, please.” She pleaded with him. A flash of a memory, no a dream filled Sosuke’s mind.

“Alright,” he responded, not in the mood to argue.

As they waited in the lobby for Sosuke’s taxi, he watched her scribble something on a piece of paper.

“This is my number.” She said cheerfully, a smile, a familiar smile, bright on her face. “Please text or call me once you get home.” Her voice slightly dropped, her words laced with worry.

He nodded his head, inputting her number into his phone. Anxiety ran through him, an unfamiliar feeling.

“Are you sure we haven’t met before?”

Being a sleep doctor and researcher, Sosuke had heard countless quips and puns about dreaming and sleep. But the one that felt fitting as of late was “pinching” someone who was unsure if they were still dreaming.

“Sosuke…” he heard her say, a sing-song tone in her voice, “I’m home!” She giggled, entering his office.

“Welcome home.” He smiled, getting up from his office chair, embracing her in his arms.

She was evidently very real, no amount of imagination from his forever-curious mind could create someone like her. Her body felt solid in his hands, her voice clear in his ears, her touch leaving his skin warm and hot.

She was real and she was his.

“How was your day?” She asked, pulling him out of his office into their shared living room.

He proceeded to tell her about the annoyances he faced, the small discoveries his team had made, as he smiled fondly at her laugh, her questions, her curiosity as she prepared a snack for both of them.

“You know, you still haven’t told me why you went into sleep science…” she asked, sitting next to him.

“I have told you, countless of times.” Sosuke said, his voice deep as he picked her up and sitting her on his lap.

She smiled softly, wrapping her arms around his neck, “that’s what you tell everyone though. I have a hunch that it’s not quite the truth.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” He murmured, chuckling at her inquisitiveness. “Do you think I’m lying to you?”

She shook her head softly, “not that you’re lying, but,” she bit her lip, “more like hiding something.”

Sosuke sighed, readjusting her in his lap, “you really are perceptive.”

He kissed her softly on the lips as his arms tightened around her. “I’ve dreamt of you.” He whispered. “Or someone, like you.”

She stilled in his arms, as Sosuke continued on, “but I could never make sense of them. They were intense, and were never the same.”

“So you’re in love with the dream me?” She murmured, a hint of fear in her voice.

“No, I could never imagine someone like you –“ he began to trail kisses down her body. “You are real. A woman filled complexity –“ he nipped at her skin, removing her shirt and unhooking her bra. He squeezed her breasts in his hand, taking care to pinch the nipple.

“A woman who is beyond dreams” he whispered, before sucking on her breasts. “Someone I want to wake up to.” His hand slid down to the waistband of her pants, pushing them down. “A woman whose curiosity astonishes me,” Sosuke’s hand wandered to her panties, his hand cupping her wet pussy.

“Someone who reacts to my touch in such a way,” he circled his thumb around her clit, earning a startled cry.

“That I could only want more.” Pushing a finger inside her.

She moaned and panted above him, her arms tight around his neck, her fingernails scratching his back. He kissed her forehead as he continued to finger her, the slick sound of her pussy filling their ears.

“Sosuke, I’m about to – !” he pressed his lips against her, muffling her scream. Her juices covering his hand.

She sobbed in his lap as she reeled from her orgasm, watching Sosuke lick his fingers clean of her essence.

“You’re more than a dream.” Sosuke said, kissing her deeply on the lips again. “You’re someone I yearn for, endlessly."

I felt bad about not participating, so I whipped this up! The summary is from a waka poem :).

The following songs were used for inspo:

Floating Points - Fast Forward

Ian Pooley feat. Esthero - Balmes (A Better Life)

Desire - Under Your Spell

Asaka Yu - Katamaritaino

TBH I do feel a bit out of touch with writing for Aizen as of late, so I apologize if he comes across as out-of-character 😭. I miss writing consistently, but rl demands are kicking my ass!

But regardless, thanks for reading! I appreciate all of you who like, reblog and share my stuff. It means so much.

#bleach #aizen sousuke #aizen sosuke #aizen sosuke x reader #aizen sousuke x reader #aizen x reader #aizen x you #aizen x y/n #aizen smut #bleach smut fest #a writes #sosuke aizen #sousuke aizen #bleach aizen #bleach x you #bleach smut #bleach x reader #bleach fanfiction #bleachsmutfest2025

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gavinparished · 1 day ago

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Gavin Parished x $alem - The Beats Inside My Head

So, here it is! My second project all together is also a first in a way, my first collaboration project. For context, this is an updated cover for DSPs, it has all the original pieces but since then we've both had name changes. I was going by Gavin Burtscher at the time, yes simply my legal name. I decided to change it to Gavin Parished a while later, because I don't want to know what it'd be like being a white-passing person named Burtscher trying to be an underground rapper. However, at this time it was even worse. My name was GBX, thank God I didn't keep that one. It was taken actually which is what motivated me to switch. $alem is a great name for that style of production honestly but at the time she was going by 2can. I honestly don't remember why she changed it but I prefer the newer name as well.

So, how did this record come about? If I remember corerctly, this album came out in 2018 so my memory is a bit foggy on it, $alem messaged me because she liked the songs I had out at the time. All I had released by then was a now lost single titled Sometimes and my first album, The Beats Inside My Head. After a lot of talking about how we'd do this we decided, after creating 2 of the 3 collab tracks, to just take our own songs and mix them in. So the project would become a rule of 3: 3 of her songs, 3 of mine and 3 collaboration songs. We both thought it seemed like a cool project so she attached 3 of her previously released songs, one of the most recent at the time, and I attached 2 I had made during the summer with Don't Go serving as the album outro. During the summer the two songs I made for this were Lost In Space and Unknown Temptation (along with my own single "i hate me, and you should too" which I'll get back to later).

Lost In Space was a very large song. I spent weeks on it. It was inspired by my electronic and dubstep roots in the music creation field along with the trap music I was currently into. It's the most complex song on the album, switching up every few bars so the beat is always unique sounding.

Unknown Temptation was my tribute to XXXTENTACION, as it had been finished a few weeks after he had passed away. It was finished before Lost In Space but came out after, I saved it to release with the album. This is the more "me" sounding song of my songs on the project. The weird synths, hard hitting drums, freaky loops. This is the DNA I kept as I grew. I made this song as a tribute to him because he inspired me a lot as an artist, despite all the rotten things he did as a person. I remember when he passed away, I was sitting in my room on vacation in Austria, visiting my family with my dad. His and Chester Bennington's deaths were, at the time, the only celebrity deaths that really effected me and honestly? Without X, there wouldn't be the same Gp standing here today. But you'll hear a lot more of that in my next album.

Before I get to Ruby's contributions I want to add that currently only our collab songs and my singles are up on DSPs, but this post inspired me to message her about getting her songs up and making it a whole again. However, if you'd like to hear it in it's original form, you can listen to the whole thing on SoundCloud, with links to both our profiles, below.

So, as far as her contributions go. The intro track, 10 kills g, was new at the time and I knew it had to be the intro. It got a rerelease and slight edit as the album dropped. Cocaine and Xaxax were her already released editions. We decided on those 2 after just talking about what the album is and what I'm doing creatively. They fit so we went with them. There's sadly not much more to tell here.

But now we have it, the 3 collaboration tracks. How'd they happen? Well, we made coffin first, which samples some Lil Peep interview clips. After making that beat around it we decided to go with that concept for all the tracks and sample artists we're inspired by. Ruby chose the artists and I did a lot of the lifting on the producion side. She was the lead on the first listed collaboration, Let Me Elevate Your Mind. She picked out the song and the voice clips while I did minimal editing. However, I did my best to work with what we had for graveyard robbers with the BONE$ and $UICIDEBOY$ clips. It fits her sound a lot more and honestly you can tell we were both amatuers at the time but that's part of the charm of these old projects, right? It was fun putting these together and eventually this lead to something a lot bigger that I'll get to down the road. You can listen to these tracks, as well as my 3, on Spotify. Here's the link to the 3 collaboration tracks.

So, the album is done! 10 kills g, Unknown Temptation, Let Me Elevate Your Mind and graveyard robbers were here, fresh to the public. And people liked it. It was nice. Honestly it was the last time for a long time that people in my life actually liked my music which felt great. Another album done, on to the next. During the creation of this record I was creating my debut hiphop mixtape, this time with vocals! This tape inspired how I went about producing a lot on there and my history wouldn't be the same without this cool project. Thank you to Ruby for reaching out for me and making The Wandering Minds happen. Sadly she doesn't produce much anymore but hey, maybe I can get her out and about again to do a lil sequel to this. I'll leave with this, show her SoundCloud some love! She's a really nice person and deserves it all.

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isfjmel-phleg · 1 day ago

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Talent Show:

Tamett: Is impressive at not being impressive. He's just some Generic Guy.

Josiah: Excellent pianist, violinist, and student. Will absolutely rub it in your face.

Odren: Talented at administration, PR, and intimidation of children (and probably adults too).

Field Trip: Some day, writing time and times that it is feasible to be away from home will coincide. The last couple weeks haven't been good for that.

Marching Band: I'm not adding words at this point, I need to edit, but I'm going to listen a favorite song while summarizing the scenes below.

Tug-of-War: Here's a summary of the final scene of the chapter, from Tamett's POV as it is written.

Tamett has violin practice and reluctantly returns to Josiah's study to get to it, even though he thinks it's even more pointless now than ever before now that he's probably fired. When he arrives, he finds Josiah practicing piano. Tamett remembers the letter that he was writing to his sister before he was interrupted and had to leave the room earlier--did Josiah see it? It had some pretty blunt things about him in it.

But no, Josiah seems more annoyed that Tamett isn't practicing and isn't doing it right. He demonstrates how to play the violin and then sarcastically quote Tamett's letter--he did read it, and he's furious and threatens to tell his father. Tamett has had it and gives Josiah a piece of his mind--what does he have to lose at this point? He says everything he's been holding back all these years, while Josiah plays the piano with increasing franticness to try to drown him out.

Suddenly Odren arrives, which is shocking because he doesn't visit this part of the palace much, if ever. He tells the boys to stop arguing since he has something to discuss with them and sends for afternoon hot-chocolate-and-cake. When it arrives, Tamett's serving is missing, which is disappointing. But Odren announces that Josiah isn't hungry and gives the second serving to Tamett.

The two of them eat and drink in front of a silently envious and exasperated Josiah, and Odren announces that he is sending Josiah to Hollingham. Josiah protests that he can't go to Corege because he doesn't know anyone there, and his father says that he'll know Tamett. Tamett is going along, but paying his way by working as Josiah's manservant. Both boys are horrified, and Josiah throws a minor fit about not wanting to go, but Odren is unmovable. After he leaves, Josiah threatens Tamett, whom he has figured out has "snitched" on him. Tamett regrets everything.

But from Josiah's POV?

Josiah returns to his sitting room after a horrible scolding from his father. His deception has been found out, he publicly embarrassed himself at the luncheon, and his father has called him just about every uncomplimentary thing possible. He's burning with shame and anger, and he's pretty sure that Tamett told his father everything. So when he sees a letter in Tamett's handwriting lying around, he reads it; he's beyond caring about common decency when it comes to Tamett. Turns out Tamett has written some harsh things about Josiah to his sister, and Josiah is even more embarrassed and angry. He never thought Tamett disliked him this much, and he feels like the whole world hates and looks down on him right now. He wishes he could talk to his mother about this--she would understand.

Instead, he decides to focus on something he knows that he can do right: music. He's playing the piano when Tamett arrives. Josiah calls him out on neglecting violin practice because this at least would put him back in the superior position. And he jumps at the opportunity to correct Tamett's practicing. Before he can stop himself, he reveals that he's read the letter and lashes out at Tamett. To his surprise, Tamett snaps back. He didn't think that was even possible, and the things that Tamett says come far too soon after that scolding from his father. Once he collects his thoughts enough to try to retort, his father shows up.

No one is doing things they normally do today, and it's getting to be a bit much for Josiah. He tries to resume normal activity by reporting Tamett's letter to his father, but his father doesn't seem bothered that a Noriberian is slandering his elder son. Instead, he announces that he has something to discuss. Josiah is nervous, but at least they're going to talk over hot-chocolate-and-cake. He is aghast when his father gives away his serving to Tamett and he has to sit there in silent hunger and resentment while his snitch of a companion devours what should have been Josiah's.

Things start to look up when it sounds like Josiah's going to be sent to school, but it's not the school that he's been dreaming of attending since childhood--he's being sent to Hollingham in Corege. Josiah panics, especially when his father adds that Tamett is coming with him as a servant. He tries to explain to his father that he doesn't want to go to Hollingham, which normally would be an effective argument, but his father won't budge, not even when Josiah plays the "Mother wanted me to go to school here" card.

So Josiah's life is completely ruined forever, and he makes sure that Tamett, the person responsible for his misery, knows that he can't get away with such a crime.

Camp Tolkien: Day 11

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today’s four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish–choose more than one if you want to.

Talent Show: Show us at least three characters from your project, and tell what their most impressive talent or trait is.

Field Trip: Work on your project in a location outside your place of residence--cafe, library, park, etc.

Marching Band: Listen to a favorite song. Start writing when the song starts and see how many words you can write before the song ends.

Tug-of-War: Write or summarize an important scene of your project from one character's point-of-view, then write or summarize the same scene from a different character's point-of-view.

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

#Camp Tolkien

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thegoddesswater · 5 months ago

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Blorbo Blursday! Among your characters, what letter is favored to start the name with?

Thanks!

I did a quick-ish brainstorm of as many characters as I could remember and, like the dork that I am, put them all in a spreadsheet so I could count. I knew there would be trends and that it would almost definitely be "A" or "R" as the most common first initial for my characters. (And then NEITHER WAS) I figured "J" was going to have a much stronger showing, but apparently not... Maybe I just feel like there's more Js because they tend to congregate when they're in the same story...

Top 5 initials were:

C - 20 entries (10.7%)

A - 18 entries (9.6%)

R - 16 entries (8.6%)

K - 13 entries (6.9%)

S - 11 entries (5.8%)

Also, I am legitimately surprised that I have used each letter at least once for everyone I came up with.

#the write collective asks #blorbo blursday #I know I forgot some characters but frankly the number I came up with was already ludicrous #These are from old projects; current projects; tabletop games -- just all of the places #Clearly I need to give more love to Q U W X and Y #The fact that I had more Cs than anything else was a shock #Also yes the fact that there is Glenn and Glen IS ridiculous but they are two different guys #I thought of more and had to come back to edit things...#For real I'm counting this as done now though

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inktheblot · 3 months ago

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the best people in life are free 🌈✨

Been a while since I finished an AMV so I just messed around with one for fun 💖

#my little pony #equestria girls #mlp #mlpeg #mane 7 #mane 6 #the rainbooms #twilight sparkle #princess twilight sparkle #sci twi #sunset shimmer #pinkie pie #applejack #fluttershy #rainbow dash #rarity #flash sentry #midnight sparkle #daydream shimmer #my edit #rip to my other wips but i really needed to just play around with something fun!#horse girl reprieve <3 they are my sillies and they bring me joy <3 #i say bc this was not supposed to be at all ambitious to just get back into the swing of things #but at the same time this is Not at all the pacing of my usual/past videos and i had to play around more than i thought #to get the timing right and get the clips to like... 'bounce' into each other if that makes sense??#esp w/o the more precise time adjusting i was more used to in imovie etc #so it wasn't quite the one or two easy sittings that i thought it would be but still ended up being a good exercise! lol #youtube link to come tomorrow probably #i want to see if posting there during Awake Hours makes a difference #bc apparently tumblr nightblogging brainrot is not internet universal and will not be seen by normies </3

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molathesunfish · 3 months ago

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my limbus bugs mainly based on characters that may or may not show up later... and one mystery feature for your guessing fun:]

#heads up for uhhhhh really long tags #had half a mind to do a style study/imitation but gave up like. one layer in #i guess i should tag these a bit differently on the chance that they show up later in canon. ill put 'lcb' before their names #as opposed to '[character] lcb' that i use for canon characters #with this ill go back and tag for montag as well #digital stuff #colored sketch #limbus ocs #lcb avdotya #look upon my rodion clone. my beautiful son #they hired the worst photographer (me. colors are scary) in the city for their wedding no wonder that thing's cursed #that wedding dress photo was supposed to be an id photo mockup too but i just kinda gave up. started over with the next one #eyeballed the height measurements sorry if they look off...#lcb dmitri #her. well. you will hear more about her. this is a threat (joke)#lcb knauer #cheetos-flavored sinclair..#trivia: my friend's impression of knauer was “i mean this in the nicest way possible but he looks like a femcel”#personally i think hes cute #lcb beck #clair's college ex. what else is there.#these are mostly so that i can mess around and come up with some designs for funsies.. i havent given much thought to their stories #and in any case most of them are side characters so that'd be a bit difficult #that said. even for the one who's the protag in her source i havent really written anything either... oops #she's good contrast with sinclair the way she's both taller than meursault and also the worst brawler youve ever met #if anyone guesses her source i'll edit this post with a tag:D #well that was fun! i'll probably do another handful of sketches and then never draw these guys again #disclaimer: i got the german off google translate so if there're any glaring mistakes please let me know #i dont know russian either but i got the subtitles from their names so it should be ok.. avdotya's is just rodion's also.#let me know if i got anything wrong still. thank you

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winter-spark · 2 years ago

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CitoIta and Kingdom Hearts Headcanons

Because I like Kingdom Hearts and I like them and they are gamers

(I say CitoIta but honestly, it’s just because it’s about Citron & Itaru, the ship is kinda vague here lol. Like it’s probably optional to read it that way at this point)

(There’s an attempted bonus section about Banri at the end, that’s why I tagged him.)

Edit: Ignore this part, just felt wrong to delete {Opening in new tab is strongly advised. I used bullet points with sub bullet points. UPDATE: I personally struggled with opening this in a new tab on the blog where all the subpoints are properly formatted, so I pinned it so you can go right to my blog and find it easily if you want. Also I moved the Intro below the Keep Reading link for space.}

Keep Reading (I manually put this one so it would hopefully always open in a new properly formatted tab)

In this post, scientifically backed by my memory, understanding of the characters and other things (eg: feelings, unlisted headcanons, & my understanding of types of people in fanbases/the kh fandom, minus shippers, I’m not touching that... here, I might consider it in the future, probably not but maybe), I will go over basics like how many games they’ve played and their fave games, trios, characters by groups, and moments. Also, there are conversations and little tidbits about how it fits into their world. I tried to pick a favorite battle but note that they probably have more than one those are just notable ones that I thought were worth mentioning. There will be KH spoilers if you’re someone unfamiliar/not caught up with it.

Citron

Has not played every game but has looked into the story and watched playthroughs of some of the other games.

Hasn’t played the games he has played in order,

Might not have caught up on the story in order but if so that’d be more because he was looking for specific characters and info

Has definitely played BBS, Days, CoM, UX, & Dark Road.

Might’ve played (one, two or all three of the following, idk) DDD, Re:Coded, KH

Has definitely not played KH2,

Likes to find/delve into theories

Read the Sleeping Realm Theory

to Itaru, because he thought it sorta sounded interesting but told Citron he wasn’t reading all that.

I don’t know any other names of long theories besides SRT but you can bet your bottom dollar that Citron has read(or listened to) them for sure

Wants very much to try Sea Salt ice cream

Considering figuring out how to make Wayfinders

UX Union:

Anguis

and has never switched unions

Favorites:

Game: Birth By Sleep

Trio: Keyblade Knights

Lost Trio is a close second

Character from each group:

Destiny: Sora

Sea Salt: Axel

Keyblade Knights: Aqua

Twilight Town: Hayner

Lost Trio: Namine

but Vanitas is a close second

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Xemnas, Zexion/Ienzo or Demyx(probably depends on the day)

Foretellers: Luxu

Xkids: Brain

& He gets bonus points for dressing up his Chirithy

DR Underclassmen: Vor

DR Upperclassmen: Vidar

Xehanort: Xemnas (?)

I know I listed Xemnas as one of his faves in Organization 13 but genuinely I feel it’s a v love hate relationship, where the love is that he can and definitely would(is like two seconds away from it) do an analysis on Xemnas’s actions/behaviors/character

Boss Battle(that he definitely 100% played):

BBS Aqua ft. Terra vs Terranort

Opening:

Birth by Sleep 0.2 A Fragmentary Passage

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All three:

KH3

Terra gaining control and saving Aqua and Ven

Aqua:

BBS

Doing her job but still standing up for Stitch

Giving up everything to try and save Terra

BBS 0.2

Knowingly chasing after illusions of her friends because she misses them so much.

Terra:

BBS

Gaining hope from meeting Cinderella

Standing against Eraqus to protect Ven

Ven:

BBS:

Running away with Stitch, lowkey being a space criminal

DDD:

Putting his armor on Sora to protect him from the darkness

Involving someone other than Fave Trio:

KH1:

Kairi protecting Sora/saving him from being a Heartless

Days:

that Sora just subconsciously gave some of his memories to Xion because she didn’t have any

DDD

Neku telling Joshua Shibuya is his home too

Sora going off to thank the Dreameaters

Commonly Quoted(? idk what else to call these, i specifically mean the ones you find in compilations and stuff) Lines from the English Translation: “[’Me? I’m already half Xehanort'] ‘That’s nuts...’”

Bracketed the first part bcuz I think he uses the second part as a reaction sometimes, same infliction and everything

It’s at the point that Tsuzuru’s familiar with it, against his wishes(If Citron says the first part Tsuzuru might accidentally properly respond, that’s how deep in he is, he’s not even sure who Xehanort is(but he does think that’s nuts))

Final things of note:

Is excited for Atlantis in KH2

Enjoys the attractions in KH3:

Loves that Dark Aqua could be beat w/ a pirate ship

Loves that there was a roller coaster in the Keyblade Graveyard

Favorite Summons:

KH: Tinkerbell & Bambi

KH2: Stitch

KH3: Ariel & Meowwow

Often forgets he has items but has gotten really good at blocking and healing because of it

Very good with magic

Itaru

Has played just about every game in release date order,

with just about 100% completion on all of them

Is (lowkey, but acts highkey) appalled Citron hasn’t played the games in order, currently planning time for them to play through all the games together

Has read the manga and maybe some of the light novels

Does look at theories sometimes, might even have a few of his own, definitely has his own headcanons

Secretly wishes he could share a Paopu Fruit w/ someone

UX Union:

Vulpeus

There’s a possibility he might’ve tried the other unions at some point but Vulpeus is his main and current union

Favorites:

Game: KH2

Trio: Sea Salt

Character from each group:

Destiny: Currently Riku,

Wants it to be Kairi, but it’s just not, is always excited and ready for Kairi news tho

Was Sora for awhile

Sea Salt: Roxas,

It really is, but he would absolutely main Xion if given the chance

Keyblade Knights: Aqua

Twilight Town: Roxas Olette

though he somewhat feels guilty to Pence as feels like he spent more time with Pence but that Olette is just a tad bit cooler

Lost Trio: Rep,

but Namine’s a close second

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Currently Saïx/Isa, but it’s kind of a love hate relationship

There’s also a lean towards Larxene

Foretellers: Ava

Xkids: Skuld

DR underclassmen: Baldr

DR Upperclassmen: Hoder

Yes he cried over their story, no he won’t openly admit it

Chikage did witness it tho

Xehanort: Ansem SoD

Boss Battle (that he definitely 100% played):

Days Roxas v Xion

Opening:

KH2,

not because KH2 is his favorite game but rather it adds to why KH2 is his favorite game

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All Three:

KH3

Their whole battle/reunion

to clarify the Lea Isa scene is a part of that

Roxas:

Days

The scene around the Riku vs Roxas battle

KH2:

Roxas v Sora scene

(I debated between this and the DDD scene. Also I feel like his list of favorite Roxas moment is longer than this but)

Xion:

KH2:

The seashell in the opening... for Xion

Days

Xion getting her own answers and spending time with Namine and Riku

Xion leaving all those seashells for Roxas

Axel:

CoM

Letting Namine go

KH2

Sacrificing himself to save Sora

Involving someone other than Fave Trio:

KH2

Sora and Riku in RoD

Coded:

(Data-)Riku reaching for the moon

Ephemer and Skuld saving Player|Star(light)/bringing them to the new version of the world

KH3 Re: Mind

Playing as Kairi in that boss battle

The fact that Kairi throws her keyblade because she trained with Axel

Commonly Quoted(?) Lines from the English Translation: “Roxas, that’s a stick.”

Final things of note:

Has found all 101 Dalmatians

Has read fanfiction longer than the Sleeping Realm Theory

(which is actually really easy to do, I looked it up and the docs word count is 31,265)

Has his Data-boss battles on his channel

Proud it only took a couple of tries to beat Yozora (he recorded each try to put his win on his channel)

Uses items all the time, knows when the best time to effectively use items for maximum item usage

“Actual" conversations:

Fave Games:

Itaru: *rambling about some KH2-related topic &/or how he can’t believe Citron hasn’t played 2*

Citron: ooo! Itaru, are you one of those guys who feels Kingdom Hearts peaked at 2?

Itaru: Kingdom Hearts 2 is just an objectively good game, the other games are good too though. KH2 is just, objectively speaking, great. Is it my favorite? Yes, but it’s completely warranted as...

Citron: *smiling as Itaru starts rambling knowing that he’s point two seconds away from going into a 2hr spiel about how KH2 is great*

Itaru: *clears throat catching himself early* A-Anyway, which one’s your favorite?

Citron: Birth by Sleep! I love the ice cream rhythm game :3

Itaru: *understanding that there’s definitely a lot deeper of a reason to that being Citron’s fave* Oh, that’s a good pick. Actually sorta seems on brand for you. Ice Cream Beat is pretty fun.

[Then they boot up Itaru’s copy of BBS and play Ice Cream Beat]

Play Order:

Itaru: So it’s a little late for you to get the full proper experience but we’re gonna play the games in order because it’s really the best way to experience the games.

Citron: Ok, speaking of order and since we’ll get to Birth By Sleep eventually, we both agree that the best way to play the first time is Aqua Terra Ven, yes?

Itaru [has played each route and in varying order, does not quite remember which order he played the game in the first time but is pretty sure it was Terra Ven Aqua]: ...Ven makes a lot of sense to play last...

Citron: Then I am glad we are in agreement. ^^

Itaru: Most people play Aqua last tho--

Citron: Sure chronologically she left Land of Departure last, but story telling-wise *starts talking about why Aqua, Terra, Ven is the best order*

Twewy: (I could do a whole other post on headcanons regarding them playing twewy, it’d maybe be shorter, tho maybe I won’t bcuz I feel like they know more than me lol(I say like Itaru doesn’t know more about KH than me *cries*). If I refer to twewy’s og name wrong here I’m sorry)

Citron: It’s cool that the twewy characters were in DDD. :)

Itaru: Yea. Oh you played subaseka before you met the cast in 3D right?

Citron: :)

Itaru: Right?

[Citron refuses to answer because he thinks leaving Itaru hanging is funnier than a yes or no ever could be]

Ansem SoD as Itaru’s Fave Xehanort:

Citron *three seconds after finding out*: So, is he your favorite because nostalgia as he was the first one you battled or because you think he’s hot?

Itaru: *chokes on being immediately found out because it’s both*

Bonus: Banri & KH Headcanons for no reason other than he also plays games

(With some obligatory Citron and Itaru mentions below because this is their post lol Banri’s not a part of CitoIta. Just to clarify)

Probably has not played all the games

Stares at Itaru whenever he starts talking about secret bosses or hard-to-find treasure chests/secret reports typically until he stops, lists a specific Banri is familiar with or Banri finds a way to shift the conversation. It’s not that he hasn’t come across them he just

doesn’t know which bosses are secret and which aren’t

doesn’t go out of his way to look for treasure chests

Partakes in the memes

Can quote more games than he played honestly, loves those “out of context”/”lines I quote” videos

Has memes saved to his phone

Azami and Taichi borrowed his phone once for picture reasons and Azami was appalled by the Aqua Cinderella meme & the Terra memes (ifykyk)

Probably had Xion’s scream from Days as Sakyo’s someone’s ringtone as a joke (can people set ringtones and ringback tones anymore?) but then he recieved a call from that person in public and was lowkey highkey embarassed so he unset it

He and Citron:

have done a Goofy rendition of Bring Me to Life one time

though Banri sorta begrudgingly participated

At least one Mankai member who was there said he’s not going Karaoke w/ them anymore

are quick to point out or send pictures of “Lucky Emblems” when they see them, it’s almost a contest at this point

Sakyo has asked them to stop sending “lOOk!! a LuCKy emBlem!” in the main chat with a picture of three connected circles, Itaru eggs them on tho

Itaru participates too but he doesn’t have the same luck in seeing them, he is the reason they started tho as in person he pointed one out so later Citron sent a picture of one to show him, so Banri just had to too but he sent two as he already had the pictures and was gonna show them later, so Citron had to find two more to be in the lead and after he found just one more, Banri caught on that they were competing and they spiraled from there

I know logically they don’t appear that often irl but I also know in my heart that it’s happened enough that Taichi, then Kazu and Kumon participated. Now, the rest of Mankai keeps an eye out for them

Between Tsumugi’s picture of flower bulbs leaning together captioned “Does this count as a lucky emblem?” Izumi asking how many points she gets for a random spot on the ground that sorta looks like a lucky emblem & Omi sending a picture of at lighting set up from work saying “ at this angle this sorta looks like a lucky emblem right?” Sakyo’s feeling a little betrayed because each of those were during times when people weren’t actively mentioning them in the chat.

Winter Troupe is the first troupe to all find at least one “Lucky Emblem”

Autumn troupe (jokingly) blame Sakyo for them not being first

UX Union:

Has probably been in a couple, Ursus or Vulpeus most recently

Favorites:

Game: Dream Drop Distance

but would rather tell you he “hasn’t thought about it, maybe 2″

Trio: Destiny,

but might not correct you if you guessed Sea Salt,

Character from each group:

Destiny: Riku

He honestly sorta relates in ways. I’m not gonna get too into it but like yea he feels.

Sea Salt: Roxas

Keyblade Knights: Terra,

but he makes jokes that rag on him a lot so unless you know Banri you would probably think he hates him or just likes to make fun of him. He really does like Terra as a character tho. Feels for him too. But as we know bullying is his love language

Twilight Town: Seifer Pence

Seifer’s a joke fave because of the undeniable proof [they] totally owned [those] lamers (if ykyk)

Lost Trio: Vanitas,

but Rep’s a close second

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Larxene & Xigbar

Foretellers: Luxu (?)

Xkids: Player|Star(light)

DR Underclassmen: Xehanort, “but Bragi’s kinda cool, I guess.”

DR Upperclassmen: *hasn’t actually caught up yet, but he likes Helgi’s design*

Xehanort: Young Master Xehanort(YMX)

Itaru says it’s because they’re both brats

Boss Battle (that he definitely 100% played):

KH2 Sora v Sephiroth or DDD Riku v YMX [I couldn’t decide which one to list]

Opening:

KH3

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All Three:

KH2

Kairi “calling Riku tf out” ultimately leading to the reunion

KH3

Riku talking with Rep on the beach, Kairi and Sora sees him sitting there by himself

Sora:

KH1

Sora giving his goofy smile before plunging a keyblade into his chest

KH3

Sora dropping down to protect Riku from Dark Aqua in the nick of time

Riku:

DDD

That Riku just subconsciously became a dream eater

KH3

Riku taking a stand against the heartless despite just about all hope being lost

Kairi:

KH2:

Kairi(and Namine) preparing to fight Saix and the berserker nobodies with their bare hands

KH3 Re:Mind

Kairi getting a surprise attack in on Xemnas

Involving someone other than Fave Trio:

KH3

Yeetus Vanitas

Woody roasting YMX

DDD

YMX & Vanitas spouting “nonsense” at Sora

Lea showing up and Donald & Goofy dropping from the sky, ultimately coming to the rescue

Star ready to square up with the Foretellers

mainly in reference to the Star v Ira speech/scene/fight but the Aced one too

Commonly Quoted(?) Lines from the English Translation: “Mickey it’s Riku, they put bugs in him!” & “Thank you Sora’s heart”

Final things of note:

Always plays on proud mode from the get-go

Not really a completion-ist but does have just about every trophy earned on DDD

Didn’t know you could lose to Yozora in the battle against him

Probably actually more of a Final Fantasy fan than KH, or at least got into KH because the Final Fantasy appearances

Bonus Convos:

Demyx:

Itaru: Yea, I can’t figure out Luxord, for Demyx I’ve seen people guess his name as Myde.

Banri: lol I like the theory that his name is Demyx and he just wandered into the Organization

Citron: That one is funny, but as far as likelyness goes I like to think his name is Demy and they just slapped an x at the end.

Banri: The laziest naming.

Citron: Exactly!

[and then Banri and Citron start talking about Demyx and it somehow leads them to talking about Goofy’s “death” in KH2 and now they’re talking about KH memes and jokes and Itaru just wanted to know if they had any thoughts on Luxord’s name.]

Vanitas vs Aqua:

Banri: *(possibly somewhat jokingly) insinuates Vanitas is as strong but probably stronger than Aqua*

Citron: *gasp* No!! He is not.

Banri: Really? Then how come he almost took Aqua out?

Citron[genuinely loves Vanitas]: He is a rat! He cannot beat Aqua in a fair fight!

Itaru: I believe he means brat.

Citron: No!! I mean rat, feral ferret child! Can only beat Aqua after biting her and giving her rabies! And even then, she still has at least a week to destroy him.

Itaru: lol that’s quite the metaphor.

Banri: I... *got lost* ???

Itaru: He’s saying Vanitas can only use dirty tricks to even get close to beating Aqua.

Banri: ???

Citron: If Vanitas could beat her he wouldn’t have to result to tricks like firing at Ven, which she was already off her A-game then mind you. But honestly, if Vanitas can’t even get close to beating Terra what hope does he have to actually beat Aqua. I can vouch that he can’t beat Terra. I beat the Terra v Xehanort and Vanitas battle by whacking Vanitas around. It was really easy. Vanitas has only beaten Ven in a fair fight. He’s not nearly as strong as Terra and Aqua. It’s demonstrated through their elements, really. Vanitas is fire...

Banri: *stressed, wasn’t expecting a whole lecture, looks to Itaru for help*

Itaru: *nodding along listening to what Citron has to say*

So yeah those are some of my headcanons involving KH and CitoIta (and Banri with minor Mankai mentions.) If anyone wants to do Taichi(who idk could play already, while I haven’t picked any out I know what type of moments would be his faves, I just can’t figure out yet if he prefers characters he relates to or characters he thinks are cool/want to be like) or Kumon (who I’d feel would want to start after seeing them enjoy it, bet Banri and Citron would have him play chronologically by timeline rather than release order “for science”) or any other characters, really, I’d gladly read it. I can see Taichi & Kumon playing KH but I don’t feel like I know them well enough to do this with them lol. I’m not even sure I know Banri well even to this with him but I attempted it lol. If there’s any questions about my decisions I might answer them, some are easier to put into words than others though.

Anywho, I dunno how to end this post tbh. Ship CitoIta, Play Kingdom Hearts. idk.

Thanks for reading all of my nonsense lol.

#(Kh & A3!)#a3!#Citron a3 #Itaru Chigasaki #Banri Settsu #I put a lot of thought into this actually #even the ones that don't have extra notes w/ them #okay I also projected a bit but that doesn't change anything #but I didn't project that much bcuz how did I not find a reason to make any of their fave Ven? like???#long post #headcanons #act addict actors #would you believe if i said there was more i considered mentioning but decided not to #bcuz there was lol #but some things were difficult to decide #maybe I'll do this with other games i've played #idk we'll see #should i tag this citoita? I mean it's implied citoita #dating? idk. but definitely implied #posting this many months after creation somewhat wishing I had taken notes #I remember some stuff but oof #I'll take notes as I remember more details lol #but look!#I'm putting my Citron thoughts on display #are you proud of me? :3 #part of my motivation to post this is the fact that there is a crossover in kh and a3 fans #and that makes me want to do something with them both #i haven't come up with anything new tho so I just hope this post I started back in April is a solid offering #I have made edits since I initially made the post btw #so it does look a little different from when I drafted it

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