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angled-blade · 1 year

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Being childhood friends with the Slashers

Slashers; Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer, Ghostface (Billy Loomis + Stu Macher), Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers (OG + RZ), Thomas Hewitt

To think that you were so close with them, it’s almost as if it weren’t coincidental.

• Billy Lenz

You only recall Billy as one of the only friends you had who had been so willing to try out all the weird dares back in middle school. You were fond of his strange antics, as it made you giggle at times. You kept his secrets as well, pinky promising him. Billy was really happy that day, his small hand holding yours the whole time. You never really thought you’d ever interact with him again after he had been pulled from public schooling altogether.

—

“___… ___’s here! Billy’s gotta call.. Right? Right! ___’s coming here!” Billy whispered under his breath, barely able to contain himself as he picked up the rotary right as you stepped inside the sorority home. He saw you from the attic window, your appearance remarkably the same, in which he identified in an instant. It made him giddy.

“Hello?” A voice responded. Someone that wasn’t you. Billy began to scream, his screams were calling for you all while he was simultaneously insulting the person on the other end. You were concerned, though you held the phone to your ear when one of the girls handed it to you teary eyed before exiting.

You didn’t expect to hear someone blabbering expletives and curses on the other end as he signed off with the name, ‘Billy’. What you didn’t expect was to recognise that voice, no matter how loud and unintelligible it was.

“Billy.. Billy..” That was when you realised, shock overtaking you. “Is that really you, Billy?” You murmured. You looked around the room nervously, though you were relieved that nobody was around.

“___!” He cheered, repositioning himself on his stomach as his kicked his legs. He was absolutely delighted to know you still remembered him, a coo escaping him.

• Bubba Sawyer

You had known the Sawyers since you were little, your family having been quite close with them as your father had been working at the same slaughterhouse as they did. With the automation of the slaughterhouse, your parents decided to move in response to it, much to your protests that went ignored. After moving away, contact with them began to lessen and got a lot more harder—though you missing them had gotten a whole lot more bigger, especially for Bubba. He was always so kind to you.

—

You didn’t expect your visit through the heart of Texas to have you running into the man you missed.

You saw that Bubba had been maskless, washing his face and his bloodied arms in the pond, maybe he was finished with butchering meat. The pond tugged at your heartstrings, seeing that it was where he and you always went to whenever your parents were busy.

“Bubba!” You hollered his name, your voice startling him at first. When he saw you, he was quick in running over to you. His pig-like squeals were amplified, wrapping his arms around you tightly. To the average person, those sounds from him would be unnerving—but you found it a familiar sort of assurance.

• Ghostface

• Billy Loomis

Billy was initially distant with you when you tried to talk to him at school, though he crawled back to you at the end of the day, shyly asking to be your friend in school. He would excitedly talk to you about movies, more specifically action. You reciprocated by rambling about the movies you’ve watched, too. Billy became something of a quiet protector, though, you two were already difficult to tear from one another in the first place, as it resulted in Billy being petty in the ways he sought for your attention. This friendship continued on until you made it to Woodsboro High, Billy making sure to keep his eye on you as he continued on with his plan.

—

Billy patted at the seat beside him, a smug smile across his features as he began to eat at his sandwich. You followed suit, setting down the books you had been holding onto from the previous class.

“How’s Mrs. Lake? She any good of a teacher?” Billy asked, chuckling at the sight of you huffing in frustration.

“Don’t even talk about it.. Anything you up to tonight?” You changed the subject, Billy catching onto it quickly, having known you for a long while. He nodded, a smile appearing now.

“I’m going to make a call tonight, nothing much, really.”

After answering, Billy returned to his sandwich after doing so, ending the conversation right after.

• Stu Macher

Stu had been dubbed as a problematic child long before you were even enrolled into the school. From what was honestly meant to be a day long interest in the new kid, Stu found himself quickly getting attached to you. He honestly craved the fact that you readily accepted him as he was and helped him focus on class in that really gentle way you did. Imagine his reaction when he heard the news that the school had offered you to be his aid in class, with you accepting it in a heartbeat? He was absolutely ecstatic. This arrangement continued until you two were in Woodsboro High, that fact itself had him quietly grateful.

—

“Uh, hey ___?” You hummed softly, indicating to him that you were listening. His tone alone already had you knowing what it was that he wanted. You quickly passed him your notes for him to copy down.

Stu smiled wide, patting your back as he always did. You knew that he couldn’t help the fact that he struggled finding ways to focus, so you always made sure to keep things easy for him to understand and recognise. By then, you always got the news from Stu as he boasted about the grades he had improving significantly.

“Andddd.. It’s all thanks to you~” Stu cooed, hugging you gently—which was uncharacteristic, but it showed how grateful he was.

• Jason Voorhees

You were practically attached to the hip with Jason, having been promoted to being his buddy throughout the time you were in camp. You didn’t mind it all. You met him purely by accident, being far more interested at the drawings he made at the bench that was behind the mess hall. Jason’s mother saw you, and the rest was history. You didn’t understand what was it with the others attending camp, but you made sure to protect him whenever you could from those bullies. You were pulled away from camp due to complications that you never knew. You honestly felt heartbroken when you found out what really happened.

—

Years passed.

No matter how long it had been, you couldn’t help but feel as if you failed Jason.

You shed many tears for him once you found out. If only you weren’t sick on that day, you could have stopped those cruel kids from throwing him in.

Here you were, resting white chrysanthemums on the bridge, right by the spot where it happened. It was quiet, as you would have expected, really.

You were startled by the sight of a hulking man donning a hockey mask as he stared at you.

What you didn’t expect was him dropping to his knees as if he didn’t want to intimidate you.

• Michael Myers

• ’78/OG

OG clung onto you similarly to a cat with a toy trapped in its jaws, unwilling to let go. His possessiveness over you was as prominent as it could possibly appear, making sure that he scared away the boys and girls who shyly came up to you in an attempt to play. You were his only playmate, never to play with another unless you wanted to betray him. That fact remained prevalent even after the incident on Halloween, due to your aura seeming unwelcoming to others ever since that day onwards.

—

You watched the news, overwhelmed with emotion as you read the headline over and over.

MICHAEL AUDREY MYERS: ‘EVIL INCARNATE’ PATIENT BREAKS OUT FROM SMITH’S GROVE SANATORIUM AFTER DECADE-LONG DORMANCY

“After all this time, you decide on escaping now.” You murmured, checking the calender. You sighed quietly at the coincidence. You felt a presence behind you a good few feet away, feeling eyes on your back. Having known Michael for as long as you did, a small smile now formed on your face.

“How fitting for you. Welcome home, Michael.” You whispered, turning around to face your friend after so long.

• RZ

RZ didn’t expect to make friends, seeing how it was his family that had him endure terrible treatment at school. He was surprised that you became someone who he felt protective over, being sure to keep an ear out for anybody who dare speak ill of you. While his size was puny in comparison to the other boys at school, he sure knew how to torment someone. RZ often pulled mean pranks, even going far to put his hobby of photography into the mix of the student’s bags. He even made sure to get the most gruesome shots to creep them out further. They stopped after a while, and he was never really caught per say… until that fateful night of Halloween, of course.

—

You didn’t know if it was purely by luck, but Michael found you as he basked in the aftermath of his murder spree. You were heading home, feeling eyes on you. You shivered, assuming it was due to a heightened paranoia ever since Michael had been taken away to the sanatorium.

You returned home, placing your keys on the side table. It was once you heard the back door creak open did you whip your head in its direction. Before you stood a man in a boiler suit who donned a white rubber mask. You remembered it all too well, knowing how it was one of a kind.

One thing that you knew especially was that mask your Michael wore on that Halloween night.

“Michael..” You muttered, his hand grabbed at his mask. He removed it, unveiling the long hair that he hid under it, further proving your statement. He stepped forward, his hand out for you to take.

• Thomas Hewitt

You were extremely close with the Hewitts, despite your parents warning you that it wasn’t for the best to form attachments; especially with people and places that aren’t permanent. You went ahead and did it anyway, being friends with Thomas Hewitt. He was the youngest of the Hewitt family and you learnt that he was really skillful with his hands in sewing. When you left you given Luda Mae your number for him to take. In exchange, he gave you a handmade handkerchief as his own version of goodbye to you right before you left, which made you cry on the spot. You kept in touch with him regularly as you moved, your relationship with him remaining as close as ever despite the distance.

—

“Guess what, Tommy!” You said, holding the phone closer to your ear as you felt your excitement course through you.

A grunt of curiosity escaped him, allowing you to elaborate on your words. He was in his bedroom, his head tilted to the right to avoid holding the phone as he sewed.

“I’m passing through Texas for something. Do you know what it means, Tom?” You asked giddily, your voice airy and light—indicating your elation. Thomas perked up at that, a few chuffs from him as if he wasn’t sure about it entirely, but a good feeling began to form.

“I’m going to meet—no, I’ll be meeting you soon!” You answered, unable to keep it quiet any longer.

Thomas paused on his sewing, making sure he heard that right.

“We’re finally going to be able to catch up face to face after—how long has it been? Ah, it’s been so long…” You sighed as you moved on to ramble what you could do.

With that confirmation, Thomas reacted with his foot thumping against the wooden flooring excitedly.

Sure, Hoyt was annoyed, but Thomas couldn’t care in that moment.

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#billy lenz x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #og michael myers x reader #rz michael myers x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #black christmas x reader #texas chainsaw massacre x reader #ghostface x reader

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pinkkittysaw · 7 months

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BUT I CAN’T STOP STARING IN THOSE EVIL EYES

title is based off a lyric in lady gaga’s MONSTER

my halloween night of horrors masterlist can be found here!

pairing: plaga leon s. kennedy x plaga f!reader

summary: while wandering through an ill kept factory, you and leon grow closer in unimaginable ways due to unforeseen circumstances

word count: 5,648

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be blocked!) minor dub-con (in the beginning), slightly rough leon, mind control, notes of voyuerism, fingering, male masturbation, boot humping, minor breast/nipple play, unprotected p in v, creampie, breeding, degradation, praise, petnames (baby, princess, sweetie) leon steps on you, reader is wearing a skirt

*some things to note: though saddler is willing leon and reader into having sex, they both want to sleep with each other of their own volition regardless of the plaga’s influence, it’s the circumstances surrounding it that makes them apprehensive

there are lines of dialogue from RE4R used in paragraphs 12, 14-15, 18, 23 & 39. i do not claim to own these lines or any media from Capcom

a/n: first time writing for leon so please be kind!!! i am just a simple mouse girl :( i thought it’d be interesting to write the plaga “overtaking” him and reader in a sense, watching his mood change drastically much like how it does in the OG RE 4 in this scene with ada (choking cw)

divider by @/benkeibear

You stare at the huge chunk of amber in front of you; it's pretty. The reflecting light gives it a soft orange hue, brightening the dull room it inhabits. After closer inspection, you notice what appears to be hundreds, if not thousands, of Las Plagas encased in the resin. You were almost too scared to be looking at them for so long, fearful that the parasites would jump out at you from their confinement once you crossed a certain threshold.

Cocking your head to the side, you think aloud, "I wonder if this is where they extract the plaga."

Leon, who's rummaging around the room looking for any spare supplies, pipes up, "Who knows? I certainly don't feel like waiting around to find out. Come on." He waves you over, walking toward the exit after determining that none of the scrap in the room was worth taking.

"Alright," you agree, beginning to move towards him.

Then, all of a sudden, your movements are halted, unable to continue forward. "Fuck, no no no,” you think to yourself. Leon looks behind his shoulder, noticing that you haven't moved from your position.

"What are you doing? Let's go." You can barely speak, clenching your teeth together as you force the words out.

"I can't fucking move." You demonstrate your lack of mobility as you attempt to force your body forward, but the most that happens is the slight twitching of your arm and legs.

"What?" Leon's about to stride over to you when the door opens behind him. He's quick on his feet, his gun in the air, aiming his pistol at the tall figure and a group of robed cultists that soon follow him into the room.

"Welcome, my children," he states as the two followers remove the hood of his purple robe, the rest filing around the two of you.

"I am Osmund Saddler. The speaker for our Lord."

Leon, obviously fed up with all the loony bullshit, shoots Saddler straight in the eye. "Tell someone who gives a shit."

Saddler reels back from the shot but doesn't die, staying hunched over due to the impact. "Foolish lambs," he scoffs. "Why do you deny grace?" The volume of his voice rises, and all at once, Leon keels over, taking a knee as he almost completely falls to the floor in front of you, now frozen in place while his gun falls from his hands.

You try to reach out to him, but your movements are stunted.

"Now, abandon your body." Your body is not your own.

"Obey, obey the voice of our lord," Saddler commands as your forced motions bring you closer to Leon. There's a ringing in your ears as he gives you orders; the noise is so piercing that you're ready to stuff your ears full of cotton just to make it stop.

Leon's now back on his feet, his veins turning black against his skin as his arm reaches out to you. His body trembles as he extends forward. You're compelled to move onward slowly, reaching down for Leon's pistol.

"Stop, please," you plead, your wrist swaying back and forth as the gun locks onto Leon. "No," you grit, resisting with everything you have while your arm continues to wobble. Tears stream down your face as you're forced to pull the trigger, shooting one of the cultists to Leon's side, watching them drop dead to the floor.

"Sweet child, do not resist." His commands turn into scolding. The ringing in your ears gets louder as your arm moves again. "Please," you wail into the open air, willing to give anything as long as it meant that he stayed alive. The trigger is pulled again, and the other masked figure drops to the ground.

Leon's face coils up, and his body jerks, trying to reach you, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry," you whisper as you pull the trigger for the final time, scrunching up your eyes, not wanting to witness his lifeless body drop to the floor. The gun clicks and falls in front of you while you collapse onto your knees, sobbing onto the floor beneath, your tears staining the dark concrete floors.

Leon is released from his own entrapment and rushes over to comfort you, placing both his hands on your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

It's funny, you think, in a twisted sort of way. You almost killed him, and here he was, asking if you were alright.

"Pray forgive these wicked sinners," Saddler exhales while shaking his head. Leon's about to lunge for his gun when you're both halted once more.

"Injecting one's blood with the plaga isn't the only way to diffuse it among the populous."

Both you and Leon are manipulated until you're standing in front of each other, his hand reaching out to grab at your hip.

"What are you doing?"

"It's not me, I-"

He gets cut off by Saddler. "The plaga can reproduce sexually as well as through implantation." And it's all of a sudden that you feel a certain heat growing inside you—desire, a sort of carnality—and if the crimson on Leon's cheeks is anything to go by, he's feeling it too. There's a certain glint in his eyes now, a hunger that wasn't there before. Both his and your irises turn a bright vermillion as the plaga fully takes control. It's overwhelming. All of your senses are heightened, now very much cognizant of Leon's hand on your hip, the warmth of his skin permeating through your skirt. All you want now is for him to bend you over and take you.

You shake your head in the hopes of clearing your mind. God, when did you start harboring such intense feelings for him like this? This can't be okay, can it? He saved your life. He's a government agent simply doing his job to rescue you from this hell hole. That's what these feelings are—just misplaced appreciation. You try to reason with yourself as the growing need between your legs calls more and more for your attention.

"What the hell's going on?" Your voice is harsh as it cuts through the air. Leon's grip tightens on your hip, almost as if he's holding himself back.

"Is it not obvious, sweet child? You two have perfect compatibility as sexual mates, and since you're both able to resist killing each other, I'll just have to change my line of thinking and make things easier for you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Leon grunts.

"Why deny it? It's quite clear that you're attracted to each other."

"I barely even needed to coax the plaga into doing anything."

As fucked up as this entire situation was, Saddler wasn't wrong, at least in regard to your side of things. You were intrigued by Leon from the moment he found you, rescuing you after being hog-tied and thrown into one of the wardrobes of an abandoned cabin. He was still incredibly handsome, even if you didn't trust him at first. From the subtle bounce of his soft ashen hair when he jogged to the bulge of his biceps whenever he slicked his fingers through the silky strands and how he was so protective over you, so kind. You could go on and on listing the things you found attractive about him. How he looked suplexing zealots, the slope of his nose bridge, his little smirk after roundhousing ganados, the thickness of his thighs, the swell of his **very** defined chest, and god, his ass. His cute, full-pert ass that you could just-

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

This isn't right. You shouldn't be thinking of him this way, but no matter how much you try to resist, you're always coaxed back into these feelings of sensuality. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think of him fucking you against one of the crumbling walls in the village, holding you so tightly against him while he tugs on your tits. Arousal pools in your panties as heat rushes to your face at the thought.

"Fuck," you murmur, and Leon looks over at you, his breath more labored than before.

"Submit your bodies and release yourself from fear!" Saddler booms, waving his staff around in the air. It's then that you feel Leon's hand underneath your skirt, cupping your mound through your tights, his other hand still gripping at your waist.

"Leon-" you say exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry, I just..." he leans into you, inhaling your scent. "I'm sorry." His lips press into the side of your neck, slowly moving against the sensitive skin. It's so gentle and kind, and if you close your eyes, you can almost pretend that you're somewhere else, not in a dusty room of an old factory, being coerced to have sex through the means of a parasite.

"You're so soft...smell so good," he mumbles into your ear. Even if you're forced to fuck in front of Saddler and his devotees, Leon at least wants his words of care and fondness to be private—to be yours.

You can't help but moan out loud at his ministrations on your neck, feeling your skin crawl with a newfound heat. Your nipples pebble in your bra, and how desperately you want his hands to be on your breasts, kneading them. You wrap your arms around his neck, curling your fingers into the smooth, pale tresses at his nape.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he confesses over and over. He knows this is wrong. He should have a stronger will than this. He shouldn't be sleeping with the hostage he was tasked with saving. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, if at all. He probably wouldn't have confronted his feelings in any other circumstances, seeing how wildly inappropriate they were. He would've rather taken you somewhere nice—maybe a fancy hotel—and do all the sappy, romantic shit you deserve—the candles, the music, the mood lighting. It'd be sweet and kind, but no. Instead, you get this, being made to breed like cattle. The only comfort he can offer is through his words, his mind trying to fight against the plaga, but you smell too good, your skin so supple and warm against his mouth; it's almost as if he can feel the blood pulsing through your jugular vein. He gently grazes his teeth over the area, biting and pulling the skin taught.

"Don't apologize. You feel good too," you exhale, pushing your chest against his.

"I shouldn't let this sick bastard have so much control over me, but god, you feel so good against me," he groans, worming his hand under the band of your tights and underwear. You loll your head back as his assault on your neck continues. He sucks the skin gently as the worn leather of his gloves makes its presence known against your mound. His finger swipes between your slit, gathering the wetness leaking from your entrance to rub soft circles on your clit.

"Christ, you're already so wet for me, baby," he groans against your neck, your breath hitching at his words.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" An amused tilt now present in his voice, the soft circles on your clit continuing as he speaks against your throat. "You like me calling you baby?"

"Yeah," you mewl, your hand reaching down to grip his forearm.

"That's it. Just focus on me making you feel good." Your cute noises cause blood to rush to his cock, making it stiffen in his pants. Your head rests against his chest as he continues to play with you.

"You want my fingers, baby?"

"Yes," you pant, pressing your face into the middle of his chest. He lets out a lighthearted chuckle, his digit circling your entrance before sinking into your warm cunt. "Oooh, you're so tight, sweetie. Squeezing my finger real nice."

"I can't wait til you're on my cock." he mumbles against your throat once again, smirking. His finger curls deep into your soaked pussy, thrusting in and out as you grind against his palm.

"Yes, yes, yes," you gasp, his lips resuming the suckling of your skin as he adds another finger, stuffing your cunt with their thickness, the leather of his gloves wet with your slick as it glides against your clit. You look down from his chest to see his hardened cock starting to poke through his utility pants. Your hand wriggling down to slowly palm him through the fabric, a soft moan rearing from his throat at your touch.

Through feeling him against your palm, he seems to be an impressive size, definitely girthy from what you can make out.

You slide your hand back and forth against the crotch of his pants, his hips lightly bucking into you as a grumbled "fuck" falls from his lips. He sounds so hot when he moans, and you want to hear more.

"I need you to come for me, sweetheart. I need your pussy on my cock so bad." He curls his fingers some more, hitting that soft, spongey spot that makes you see stars. A few more thrusts from his digits and nudges from his palm have you arching into him, his mouth swooping down to swallow your moans through a kiss. He's the only one that gets to hear you cum, despite the audience you both have.

He keeps his fingers stuffed in your cunt as you ride out your orgasm, the sensation of your pussy squeezing down on him making his head whirl in anticipation.

"That's it. That's a good girl," he murmurs, guiding you through the waves.

Despite having just came, you're still just as eager, if not more so, to palm him through his black cargos.

"Easy, easy. You'll have me soon enough," he coos in an attempt to pacify you, removing your hand from his erection while you whine and grumble in response to the loss of touch, wanting him to mount you already.

He guides you onto the floor, laying you flat on the chilled concrete. The cold seeps into your clothes and skin, causing you to shiver almost uncomfortably so as you arch your back, spreading your legs as far as they'll go in your tight skirt. You take to palming your tits through your top, desperate for any kind of prolonged pleasure.

"Someone's needy," he chuckles to himself while he looms over you, his broad shoulders casting a large shadow over your form.

"Come on, you'll be a good girl for me, won't you?" He moves to remove both of his belts, unbuckling them and letting them drop to the floor. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest decision to leave himself so exposed, but neither of you could be bothered enough to care.

The next thing to come off was his shoulder holster, the leather straps meeting the other discarded materials on the floor. It's only after his confines are removed that he begins pleasuring himself, reveling in your position on the floor, legs spread deliciously while the rest of you becomes utterly debauched, your expression filled with nothing other than need and want.

You whine out a little, desperate for his touch even after the fact. He smirks while walking toward you, his heavy boots echoing throughout the room with loud thuds til he stops just short of your cunt and sneers. Something about him is different.

He plants his foot atop your mound, grinding the sole into your folds. There's no real force behind it, but it's oppressive and demeaning. He's not the same Leon. The Leon who told dumb jokes at every opportune moment, who ate multicolored herbs, both raw eggs and fish WHOLE, yet looked at you as if you were the crazy one for refusing, choosing not to believe him when he said they'd "mend your wounds." This was not the same Leon who pulled you aside after you ran off scared, giving you words of reassurance and encouragement just as he had throughout this whole endeavor. No, this Leon was more sinister.

Your whines and mewls get a little more pathetic, rolling your hips and grinding yourself on his boot in a desperate attempt for any friction that he'd give you—which wasn't much, but still, anything was better than nothing!

In the midst of your pouting, you catch Saddler's eye. His expression is blank, almost as if he were watching paint dry. His attendants were dismissed by this point, as they had no need to witness the impregnation take place. You can't help but stare at him, his eyes oddly captivating, unable to help but wonder what he thinks of this. Surely he’s the one controlling you both, but is this a last effort of sorts? Making two "subjects" fuck like rabbits just for the sake of spreading his message, his word, and his so-called "vision" Was sex something that he looked down on? Something shameful?

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Leon whistles at you. "Would you rather fuck him instead, princess?" He jeers in a mocking tone. You frown and furrow your brows, glaring at him as you deliver a bratty "no" in response.

"Then keep your eyes on me, yeah?" He sneers as he grinds his heel into you some more, swiping his foot from side to side, knocking the grooves into your clit. He laughs as you continuously mewl into the air, squeezing your tits through your clothes, begging for more attention. Instead of aiding you in your frustrated disposition, he decides to be a little crueler, reaching down to palm his cock through his pants. His head lolls back as he lets out a soft groan, the sound causing more arousal to flood in between your legs.

You moan, your eyes scanning his features—the bob of his Adam's apple, the softness of his jaw, the way his teeth dig into the plush of his bottom lip.

Deciding to prod further, he pulls out his leaking cock from his pants, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you at the sight. He has an adorable ash-blonde happy trail running down his navel that fans into darker, coarse curls at the base of his cock. It has a slight left curve to it and a pretty pink tip. The look of it is tantalizing and mouth-watering. Your mind is flooded with every memory you’ve had of wanting Leon to fuck you silly during this godforsaken nightmare. Now you have a visual to go along with your many fantasies—a pretty cock for an equally pretty man.

You expected him to be in a hurry to fuck you, but he does something unexpected. He keeps his foot on your cunt. You attempt to sit up, your abdomen contracting as you begin to move upward, when he plants his boot on your chest instead, right on your sternum, effectively pushing you flat on your back again.

"Did I give you permission to move?" He stares, cocking his head and quirking a brow, looking down at you as if he were scolding a misbehaving puppy. His carmine irises meet yours as you attempt to shove off his foot by his ankle, though soon finding it pointless as the boot remains firm and steady against you.

You shake your head with a petulant "no," grumbling as his foot takes hold of your chest, pressing lightly on your rib cage, making it somewhat difficult to breathe.

"Then don't get greedy," he chastises, moving his boot back to its previous position on your cunt, leaving a muddy footprint in its wake. Instead of providing you with the friction you wanted, his limb now lays idle against you.

You frown at the brown stain left on your top, glaring at him once more. "You ruined my shirt!"

"I'll tell you what: when this is all said and done, I'll get you a new top. How bout that princess?"

You roll your eyes, grumbling as his hand moves toward his mouth, yanking off his fingerless gloves with his teeth and tossing them among the pile of his other forgotten items.

Warm palms slither down his torso, making their way to his cock, where he squeezes the base, shaking it in the air a tad, teasing you with it.

It's well-known at this point how much you desire him. The plaga floods both of you with nothing but thoughts of you two fucking each other. He watches you eye his cock thoroughly, gnawing at your bottom lip with how badly you wanted him to fill you up.

He languidly begins to pump his hand up and down, precum leaking from his pretty tip all the way down his shaft, creating all the slip he needs. You start to buck your hips against his boot, desperate for your own pleasure, which he still refuses to give you. His hand continues to move along his cock; the rough callouses on his palm are a stark contrast to the glisten of his slick-covered dick.

You huff and puff as he continues to jerk off, growing tired of being teased and tormented. His thumb glides along the slit of his cock head, causing his hips to buck and shudder. You were like a rabbit on a treadmill, his cock being the carrot on the string you were being teased with, so close yet so far...

"Leon, you're being mean," you scowl, feeling grumpy and grouchy, tired of his damn games, your panties soaked through with your arousal, craving any sort of attention.

"Mean?" he asks, pressing his foot further into you, pumping himself a smidgen faster while his pectoral muscle begins to bounce with his quickened pace.

"If I were mean, I'd make you cum just like this while you watch me jack off."

"And since you want to act like such a little brat, maybe that's exactly what I'll do." He speeds up again, twirling his wrist as he fucks his fist, his grunts and groans filling the air among your whines.

"No, no, no, no," you cry, watching him buck into his hand as the slick makes his cock even more slippery.

A pink hue floods his cheeks as heat builds in his body, sweat gathering on the threads of his clothes.

"No?" he mocks with a feigned pout. "You want my cock that badly, huh? Want it to fill you up? Stuff you full?"

"Mhm," you nod incessantly, heat flooding your own face as well, the arousal so overwhelming that you feel as if you’ll burst.

"Why don't you beg for it? Beg for my cock."

You look at him apprehensively. Was he really gonna make you beg for him like a cock-hungry fool?

"I'm not joking about finishing you off with my boot. You'll get no dick and no cum." His efforts hastened, his hips twitching every so often. He’s serious, and so are you, so despite your "strong-willed bratty nature," you beg and you plead for his cock like a good girl.

"Please gimme your cock, Leon. Need it so bad. Need you to fuck me dumb; turn my brain into mush."

"I think you can do better than that princess," he smirks down at you, huffing slightly from the continued pleasure.

Your words turn into a slew of pleas and jumbled moans varying from saying you'll "die without his dick," "how badly you need it," and "how desperate you are for it," all of which boil down to you whining please over and over and over. When he's finally decided that you've made your case, he staves off his release, gripping the base of his cock so as not to finish right in his hand.

He drops to his knees, grabbing and pulling you towards him by your hips, your thighs settling on either side of his while he hovers over you. All his movements are quick and hasty in nature as he hikes up the bottom of your skirt over your pelvis, allowing you to spread your legs further and welcome him into the warmth between your thighs.

He stares down at your black tights below him, now transparent enough to see through to your pale-colored underwear from the fabric being stretched so far. He wastes no time in grabbing the crotch of your tights at the seam and effectively tearing a huge hole in them, his biceps bulging as he rips the fabric from your body. He stares down at the cute design of your panties as your tights lay in shreds against your leg, his eyes settling on the front of the fabric, the wet splotch soaking through from your previous orgasm.

He moves his hand over to your cunt, running his middle and ring fingers through your slit. He settles on your clit, rubbing the sticky fabric against you as he swirls the bundle of nerves in slow circles.

"I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I'm surprised that I held out as long as I did without fucking you."

"Leon," you groan. "No more… I wanna feel you, please," you mumble, reaching out to him as a final stand to get what you desperately crave.

He finally gives in, tugging down the waistband of his pants, landing on the swell of his thighs and below the curve of his ass, exposing the stretch marks that litter his hips and upper thighs.

"See something you like, princess?" he teases, pumping his cock a few times in preparation.

"Mhm, mhm," you nod eagerly as he begins to move toward you. Luckily, your panties are spared from his strength as he chooses to simply pull them aside instead of tearing them apart. He mumbles a grumbly "fuck" as he gets a look at your sweet cunt for the first time. The hair covering your mound shines as your arousal spreads throughout your folds. He doesn’t stop himself from running a finger in between the seam of your pussy, gathering the slick on the pad of his digit and sticking it in his mouth, groaning at the taste of your sweetness.

"Delicious," he mutters as he lays his cock against the warm heat of your sex, giving you a closer look at just how big he is.

He lines himself up at your entrance, and without so much as a warning, he thrusts into you down to the base. You arch into him, your breasts pressing into his chest as your back curves in his direction, a hearty moan coming from both of you. He stretches you out better than in your fantasies, your warm, wet walls clenching down on him as he twitches inside.

"Let's take care of this, yeah?" He asks, lifting your upper half into the air and placing you on your elbows. He lifts your top over the peak of your breasts, ogling the sight of your tits filling out your bra, trapped within their confinement, before he's reaching behind you to fumble with the clasp of the garment. A part of you is amused while watching him struggle, but it's not long after that the cups are falling from your body, your breasts free to Leon’s eyes and the open air as he pulls the straps down your shoulders, flinging the undergarment toward the pile of other forgotten items. He decides to keep your shirt on, enjoying the disheveled, fucked-out look you have with your clothes half on and half off, letting the top stay wrinkled above your tits.

"Perfect," he mumbles, moving his head toward your chest to mouth at it, planting open-mouth kisses along the swell of your breast as his hips begin to roll languidly. He gives you a few slow strokes, just to get acquainted with each other's bodies, before it quickly turns into a hurried fucking.

His hips knock into yours in quick succession, his girth smoothing over every ridge and groove in your tight cunt, leaving you panting into the air as he grunts and groans against your breast. His body pressed so tightly against yours.

His lips find your nipple, his tongue swirling around the areola before pulling the nub into his mouth. The roll of his hips and the suckling of your nipple add to your growing pleasure. You buck your hips in tandem with his, desperate to feel every bit of pleasure you can.

"So greedy, huh, princess? Just need your cute cunt, fucked huh? Anything goes as long as you feel good, right?"

You whine, clenching down on him, squeezing his cock tight as he fucks you thoroughly. He pulls away from your chest, grabbing your hips tight in his grasp, his fingers digging deep into your skin.

"God, you’re perfect for me," he mumbles, leaning back so he's standing straight on his knees, his hands pulling you down on his cock as he brutally thrusts back into you. "So perfect for me to breed." You swear you can see a glint in his eyes as he says that, and your pussy pulsates around him even more.

"You like that, huh?" he teases, punctuating every word in the sentence with a brutal thrust. "You like the thought of being all mine? being claimed by me? Me fucking my kids into you? Knocking you up?"

You mewl and wail, nodding and gasping and heaving; the only thing you care about at this moment is him fucking you full of his seed.

The snap of his hips continues to get quicker, your soft breasts bouncing so pretty as you lay beneath him, your worn and fucked-out expression giving him nothing but joy. His rhythm gets so quick that he manages to slip out of your vice-like grip, causing a low and extended whine to draw out from your lips. He chuckles, enjoying how desperate you are for his body, and leans himself into you once more while he guides his cock back into you, his thrusts regaining their previous speed.

His hand pushes one of your thighs toward your chest, rolling his hips deeper so he can more easily hit the spot that makes your eyes cross, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter as he fucks into you with more vigor. You can’t stop your hands from wandering as you grab the plush of his ass, squeezing the fat while you writhe underneath him. You pant into his mouth, trying to signal him for a kiss, to which he happily obliges, meeting your lips with his as he continues to drive you further and further to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, princess?"

"Gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?"

"Want it so bad, please?" You moan, sneaking your hand down to the front of your body and rubbing quick circles to your clit.

"Go ahead, princess, cum for me," he mumbles, nestling his head in the crux of your neck, sucking on your pulse point. As his hips continue to thrust into you, you arch intensely into him, moaning loudly as you reach your climax, your eyes rolling into the recesses of your mind as your nails claw into the meat of his ass, leaving pretty, red crescent-shaped divots in his porcelain skin.

You run your hand through his silky blonde strands as you position yourself next to his ear. "Cum with me, Leon," you mutter, still reeling from the aftereffects of your high, the additional thrusting adding to the lingering pleasure still felt. "Cum in me, please. Wanna be stuffed full of you." You lick a stripe up his neck, the salt from his sweat lingering on your tastebuds.

It's a few short and sloppy thrusts later that he's grunting loudly into your skin while he cums, ropes of his seed traveling to your womb.

The door can be heard shutting behind you as Saddler makes his exit, Leon's hips slowing to a full stop once he’s left. With the impregnation going through, he no longer needs to bother himself with whatever the two of you do from here on out.

It’s a few minutes later that the both of you begin to feel normal again, or as normal as you can be given the dire situation. It doesn’t take long for Leon to recover, his baby blues greeting you once more as he snaps to attention, getting himself situated as he puts on his gear and adjusts his clothes, keeping a watchful eye on you as you start to do the same, picking up your bra from his things on the floor.

After getting dressed, he’s immediately at your side. "I'm so sorry. I-"

You cut him off with a finger placed on his lips and a shake of your head. Your face is tired and weary, and your voice a little strained as you tell him, "It's alright."

He’s not willing to argue with you on the ethics of what went down, at least not here, so he decides to put off the conversation til you’re both safe back home, hopefully having figured out some sort of plan by then.

"Are you good enough to move? We shouldn't linger around."

You nod, moving to fully take off your tights before making your departure, seeing as you have no more use for the tattered fabric. The torn material catches his eye, causing embarrassment to rise throughout his face, his cheeks taking on the same rosy hue as before.

"I'll make good on my word, I promise. I’ll get you a new shirt and some tights when we get back. For now…" He walks towards the exit. "We need to get rid of these damn things," he says, pointing to his chest. He checks his jammed gun, ejecting the magazine and resetting the casing before gesturing you over toward him, readying the weapon in front of him before the two of you begin to make your way out of the factory.

Needless to say, this would NOT be going in his incident report.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil 4 x reader #resident evil 4 smut #x reader #x reader smut #smut #✰ミ angel writes #✰ミ angel’s halloween night of horrors

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scalesandwings · 1 month

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I don’t think I’ve ever seen ship policing in any fandom as hostile as the policing in the Hazbin fandom. Since when did canon matter when it came to ships? Since when did the OG source material and what the creator says affect anyone’s ships? Did people forget that ships have no affect on the canon material and therefore remain harmless and insignificant? Did people forget that shipping is only fantasy and cannot actually harm anyone?

“bUt ThEyRe EnEmIeS!!1!1!” So? Shipping enemies isn’t new nor does it “erase” the original dynamic in the source material. It’s one of the most popular ship dynamics!

“iTs QuEeR eRaSuRe!!1!1!” No ship is as strong enough to overtake OG source material to erase anyone’s canon sexuality. Also, regarding Alastor, Aro-Ace is a spectrum. His canon sexuality shouldn’t affect anyone’s fantasy (because shipping is, again, just fantasy).

Never has any character’s canon sexuality stopped someone from creating fan material of their own ship and I don’t see why this “ship policing” is enforced in this fandom. Let us not forget, none of these characters are REAL! Queer representation doesn’t hang in the balance of how Hazbin characters are “properly shipped” amongst fans. If anyone’s ship bothers you, you don’t have to engage in it or support it. If you feel strongly enough to have to bully someone or call their art ugly because you don’t like it, go outside and start talking to real people. Please.

And my last note, coming from someone who is ace, who’s had a rough journey trying to figure out their own sexuality and struggled so long with labeling (because everyone’s obsessed with labels), STOP SPEAKING FOR US! Alastor’s canon Aro-Ace being tampered with among shippers doesn’t need to be your hill to die on!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin art #hazbin lucifer #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin vox #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin adam #radioapple #radiostatic #alastor the radio demon #radiobelle #alastor x lucifer

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niko-ash · 6 months

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Lovely

Lovely- Billie Eilish ft. Khalid

Shinichiro x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: angst, no comfort, smut, OG Timeline (No time leaping), suicide, mental health issues. MDNI 18+, fingering, handjob, shower sex, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie. If you or someone you know are considering suicide, please reach out to your local hotline or emergency services.

The call came later that afternoon, you hadn't been able to reach your boyfriend all day. The panicked words from Sanzu’s mouth came out in a jumbled mess when you answered. A soft thud was heard over the line, a sigh from Wakasa’s lips as he took over the phone.

July 29th, 2003

“Baby you have to eat,” You crouched on the floor in front of your six-foot-tall boyfriend, your hand running through his hair as he sat on the edge of the bed. The bowl of rice and beef sat untouched on the bedside table. His empty dark eyes surrounded by dark circles and hollowed cheeks; he was looking through you. “Please Shin?” You tried not to let the desperation in your voice overtake the true issue at hand.

Mikey’s death had taken a toll on him worse than you could’ve imagined. In such a short time he had lost a noticeable amount of weight and refused to leave bed. You weren’t blaming him; you understood the toll that grief takes on people. You were also grieving the loos of his younger brother; Mikey had become an important part of your life, you had walked with him to and from school most days, took him out for snacks and often took him out with you and Shin. His death was weighing on you, but Shinichiro was more important than your grieving process. The man in front of you was simply a hallow shell of who he was before. If he had had a shirt on then you wouldn’t have been able to see his lungs taking in air, he was so fragile under your touch. The hand in his dark hair cupped his face; he no longer leaned into your touch, no longer pulled you closer in bed. His mind was gone, you were simply caring for his body hoping he would return.

“Baby, are you okay enough to shower?” No response. The light had simply been drained from his eyes. The ache in your chest, the choking feeling in your throat. The numbing icy touch of his skin under your hand and the resistance of fighting your own tears back. You stood back up, hand dropping from his face, to go turn on the shower. There was no way to describe the pain of what you were going through. Everyone told you that he would come back around, that this was all a part of the grieving process, and everyone handles death differently. But this was different. You would be lying if you said at first, you didn’t believe their words. There was less and less of him every time you looked at him. The steam from the water fogged the mirror you could once see yourself in. In the process of taking care of your boyfriend, you could see now you had been unintentionally neglecting yourself.

You didn’t know how long you had been staring at your fogged over reflection, but it had been long enough that Shinichiro came to check on you. His eyes glazed over the mirror and then your body. You had also seemingly dropped several pounds. You didn’t recognize anymore. His shirtless figure reached out, removing your shirt and shorts. His sweatpants following your clothes on the floor. He guided the two of you into the nearly scolding water, the shower washing away tears you were unaware had fallen from your eyes. The water rinsed away the feeling of depression leaving you with nothing but numbness. Shin’s hands were on your waist, his lips on yours as he pushed your back against the shower wall. Droplets form his hair dripped onto your face. The taste of his mouth slowly kissing you brought a necessary comfort to you. Your hands trailed up and down his chest, not daring to go lower until he gave you permission to do so. Tears mixed with the droplets streamed like an unstoppable river down your face.

His fingers traveled down to your clit, slowly rubbing circles that sent shivers down your spine. Your hand wrapped itself around his cock, stroking him until you were both a moaning mess. Lips moving in sync as he inserted a finger in your entrance. You moved your moth to his jaw line leaving a path of open mouth kisses down his neck letting your tongue lick his skin before sucking on the sweet spot under the side of jaw. His moans, oh god how you missed hearing him. Your walls clenched around his fingers as he added a second one and moved at pace that was pushing you to the edge. His cock twitched in your hand when you delicately slipped your thumb over the slit of his tip. Removing your hand from him you sucked his pre-cum off the tip of your thumb.

A whine left your lips when he pulled his fingers out of you without warning only to find one of your legs being lifted around his waist. He rubbed the tip of his cock between your slick folds, teasing you until you begged for it. Both your eyes watched as he pushed into you. The stretch that you had never gotten used to overwhelmed you, but you loved the feeling of him in you. Your eyes rolled back as he bottomed out giving your pussy a sudden thrust that hit just the right spot. His free arm held the shower wall above your head, his face pressed into the crook of your neck as he began thrusting in you at a steady pace. His hair was still so soft in your hands.

“Fuck, Shin… oh my god.” Your orgasm was creeping up faster than you wanted to admit. He always did this to you though, fucked you so good you came within minutes. It wasn’t long before your high came crashing around his cock as he chased his own climax.

“I love you, fuck I love you.” The words came out as a whimper from him. You pulled his face from your neck forcing his mouth back on yours which he was happy to do. His tongue easily won dominance over you. You didn’t mid though, you loved the feeling of him in your mouth, loved the taste of your lover. He rested his forehead on yours, a string of saliva connecting you together. You watched his face contort in pleasure as his thrusts became sloppier. He was on the edge when the words ‘I love you’ from your perfect mouth danced in his ears and sent him over. His seed leaked out of you from around his cock, your legs shaking as you pulled him in for another kiss. Water from long forgotten shower rinsed away any and all evidence of the moment that happened minutes before. Exhausting took over your mind when you both stepped out, turning the water off and him carrying you to bed. The last thing you felt before letting sleep take you was his lips pressing kisses on your cheek, mouth and forehead.

July 30, 2003

“Hey, it’s Wakasa.” The man you had always known as Shinichiro’s best friend breathed your name through the phone. “I just got off the phone with someone else. I need you to listen carefully, okay?” Dread bubbled in your stomach. Something was very wrong.

“What is it?”

“Shinichiro jumped, I’m really sorry.” Wakasa heard the phone on the other line drop. The line had gone dead. Shinichiro was gone.

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lewisinho · 4 months

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✨lewis hamilton’s most underrated mclaren drives ✨

(with special dedication to: @l8tof1 & @sirlew44)

did a lil’ rewatch over the break and wanted to do a post about some of lewis’ most underrated wins/drives in f1 over the years; i realise that there are a lot of them and so i decided to split and do a post for his mclaren days and another one for his mercedes years.

a few words of introduction:

the thing about watching mclaren lewis and why it’s just such a privilege, is that this boy is special; babyfaced rookie picked from the crèche by ron dennis and who was told he’d be half a second off nando’s pace and that he shouldn’t worry, wasn’t just hungry he had something to prove, he will nawt be a second driver even if it’s to the reigning 2x world champion who has just come from beating THE michael schumacher, basically babes wasn’t having it and he put the fear of god into these drivers…and ron dennis (say what you want about that that man, but you can’t deny, he really girlbossed that one thing; giving lewis a car that was capable of winning, was a choice™️, but a very good one and we thank him for that); mclaren lewis is special because he’s hungry, he’s raw and fast, very fast, sometimes too fast and too reckless, but he’s learning, and when you watch these races and these seasons you see him learn and grow and change; all these seasons are different, but those mclaren years are just as important for the lore and who he is now and to witness the evolution of both the driver and the man is truly special; so this small collection of drives is a bit of a crème-de-la-crème if you will of those races that i think aren’t as mentioned in the pantheon of great lewis drives as much as i think they should, so let us begin:

fuji 2007 🇯🇵 aka the first rain dance of og bald baby mclazza rookie lewis, stunting on hoes since ‘07

people keep talking about silvo 2008 (and rightly so) but this one is a bit of a forgotten wet-weather masterpiece; talk about artistic sublimity, this is the racing sublimity of one 22-year-old rookie lewis hamilton; baby lewis was holding off his reigning world champion of a teammate absolutely majestically in torrential conditions, and executing the race and the restarts to perfection (race is also chaos personified so brilliant to rewatch). baby lew became a bit of a headache for the establishment™️ and one fernando alonso and it’s fun to watch.

germany 2008 🇩🇪aka mclaren pitwall terrorising baby lewis (the horrors started way before merc)

a race overshadowed by his brilliance in silverstone two weeks earlier (suffering from success and having consecutive masterclasses amirite), but it’s nearly as brilliant; this is lewis vs massa + the mclaren pitwall deciding to gamble with some fuckass strategy and leaving lewis out for a safety car restart, lewis having to pull massive gaps, driving the wheels of that mp4-23 and then overtake from p5 to take the lead; some brilliant overtakes and lewis displaying incredible race pace; this drive is the lewis hamilton special that massa had no answer for

singapore 2009 🇸🇬 aka lewis decided to serve cunt

to truly appreciate the sheer extent of said cunt serving, you have to watch both quali and the race; mind you, the 2009 mclaren was nawt it, the post-updates mp4-24 was still dogshit compared to lil’ sister mp4-23 and very much an underperforming and unreliable shitbox; the updates also came too late for lewis to put up a proper championship fight; however this did not stop from lewis from putting 2 whole ass seconds on his teammate, take pole ahead of the red bulls and the brawns and then dominate the race, with brilliant tyre management and race pace (40 secs ahead of kova, nearly 10 secs ahead of timo glock in p2 in a truly fuckass mclaren)

brazil 2009 🇧🇷 aka the road to legend is long and twisted and the brazilian racing gods clearly have a plan

p17 to p3; and no you may think this is one of those checo-esque recovery drives where you qualify terribly but have a rocketship so you overtake cars easily and finish the race in a position you should have started the race in; well, the mp4-24 actually qualified terribly in the wet (even post-upgrades, it was also set up for the dry) and was still very much mid on a sunday; lewis however babes was on yet another mission, overtaking cars *mwah* like please watch it; the brazilian racing gods truly picked a chosen one and his name is lewis hamilton i do not make the rules; his lil’ fist punching the air when he crossed the line says everything you need to know about what that drive meant to lewis (also like that boy was starving for a win around interlagos and to think the first one came only in 2016 jeez) the racing gods really wanted to make that man suffer biblically in true chosen one fashion before offering any type of redemption; you see interlagos and lewis is a special narrative, it’s about a boy achieving immortality in his hero’s homeland, and it goes all the way from 2007 to 2021 and beyond, and there are chapters in between, like 2009, that are worth mentioning, because the man is desperate for a win here and he’s getting so so close, hungry mclaren lewis you mean so much to me, he would eat anything and anyone and well,,,interlagos is lewis’ yearning personified

china 2011 🇨🇳 aka he WILL have his win and he will bite and claw his way towards it

hungry lewis starving for a win with a car that is half-decent is dangerous; this race is *chefs kiss* oh my god, please watch it, baby mclaren lewis on a mission, babes after the race said he doesn’t remember when he last won a race, like wdym it’s only been like 8 months my guy (we’re on two years now); drama starts before the race even begins, because he’s got a fuel problem and is literally mere seconds away from a pit-lane start but no that team and that man were on a mission: three-stopper, overtaking both seb and jb, terrifying race pace! he also gets a bit emotional in the cool down room and hugs seb 🥹

germany 2011 🇩🇪 aka vintage lewis special

another one where you have to watch both quali and the race, because baby goat was pulling quali laps out of his ass (imo probably one of his best non pole laps): he split the bulls and was only half a tenth from pole (also 1.2 secs ahead of his teammate); bear in mind we’re in the domination era of kinky kylie (rb-7) which took 12/19 victories and all but one pole position, which interestingly albeit unsurprisingly went to lewis in korea): that man was putting his entire lewpussy into those quali laps; now the race, ladies and gents (gn) this is where it gets tasty and spicy and if you want a three-car fight for the win this delivers on all fronts and provides lewis at his very best this is it;

a small (but important) tangent: i do find it slightly disappointing when people overlook lewis’ 2011 season entirely because of his getting outscored by jb; yes, it wasn’t a clean season from him, he made a lot of errors in the races and it’s quite a frustrating watch in general as a lewis fan, but he also had some absolutely brilliant races (i also can’t help but point out a similar trend that has happened with his 2022 season);

but anyway, this is lewis vs webber vs fernando, mclaren vs red bull vs ferrari for the entire race; overcut and undercut strategies happening simultaneously, lewis’ racecraft and defence on webber!!!!, and featuring a great overtake on nando!

+ honourable mention: australia 2009 🇦🇺 aka icarus flew too close to the sun

you’re prolly wondering why i’m including australia 2009, which is rather infamously known for ‘liegate’; but lewis’ (and mclaren’s) post-race shenanigans overshadow an actually brilliant drive from p18 to 4th (momentarily 3rd bc trulli got DSQ’d which was then reversed lmao; it’s a bit all over the place) in an actually dogshit mclaren that had no right fighting even for top 5; this is pre-upgrades wheelbarrow mp4-24, this is the stuff that makes the w13 look like a prima ballerina, well guess what lewis was the prima ballerina and was putting that mclaren in positions it really did not deserve to even bear witness to; and then there was a bit of a kerfuffle at the fia office (please read up on liegate it’s acc really funny, mclaren spectacularly shooting themselves in the foot 🙄), someone got fired, lewis disqualified, but oh well, shits and giggles innit (hindsight's a wonderful thing)

hope you enjoyed and i also hope this provided some inspiration for a rewatch :) 💜🏎️

#lewis hamilton #this rewatch was honestly a pleasure to do because i genuinely haven’t seen some of these races in years #there will be a part 2 with some merc drives #f1 #lewis mclaren rewatch

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atticsandwich · 9 months

Text

move fast, keep quiet

pairing: raphael / gn!mc [obey me!]

sfw - this is just pure fluff lol

hallway brushes that turns into casual conversations, that turns into walking to your next class together, that turns into whispered nothings, that turns into something more

[set in the OG timeline, pre-NB]

"Good morning."

His tone is casual, monotonous. You look up from your D.D.D to see the angel in front of you, arm raised halfway in a greeting.

"Raphael! Good morning," you respond in kind with a smile.

You haven't known Raphael for long, but you realize that sincerity is laced in every encounter you've had with him, despite what the tone in his voice might suggest. Although the brothers describe him as strict and meticulous, you find the silence that usually comes with his presence quite comforting, a complete contrast to the daily rambunctious antics in the House of Lamentation.

"You're early today. Don't you usually come with Mammon?" he asks, glancing around you in case he missed the demon in question.

"Oh, Diavolo asked me to come in early so I can look through some of the proposals regarding future exchange programs," you respond. "I actually came with Satan today, but he wanted to stop by the library first."

"I see..." he trails off, as if in thought. "Can I walk you there?"

You blink in surprise.

"To the student council room? Sure, but are you sure you're not busy?" you reply, not expecting the offer. He gives a curt nod.

"I'm waiting for Simeon and Luke, so I don't have anything to do until then."

"If that's the case... yeah, let's go! I could use the company," you smile. Though his face remains unchanged, you can sense he's content that you accepted.

The two of you chat about recent happenings, from Mammon's latest grimm escapades to Luke accidentally drinking Solomon's concoction that he left in the fridge ("--he should really stop doing that", you interject.) that made the poor angel croak for the entirity of the afternoon. Luke was apparently grumpy for the rest of the night, so Simeon baked some cookies to cheer him up, which worked. ("--the cookies were good," he commented.)

The walk to the student council room isn't too long, and before you realize it, you're both standing at its doors. "I might as well say hi to Lord Diavolo and Barbatos," was what he said as he held the door for you. You whisper a quiet thanks as you walk past, and hear the scuffle of his feet as he walks in right after.

"There you are, good morning!" Diavolo's voice resounds within the room, enthusiasm peaked as always. Barbatos bows beside him in acknowledgement, walking off to prepare your seat.

"Good morning, Dia, Barb," you return their greeting accompanied with a warm smile.

"Hm? Is that Raphael behind you?" The prince finally notices your companion, who gives a nod.

"Good morning, Lord Diavolo. I was merely taking them to you. I apologize for the intrusion."

"Nonsense!" The prince laughs in assurance. "You and the other angels are always welcome to stop by."

You glance at the angel, who only gives another nod in response.

"I'll be on my way then," he turns to you.

"Thanks for walking me here," you say, thanking him with a smile.

"See you around."

You might've imagined it, but you were almost certain your fingers brushed for a second as he walked back, and you swallow the warmth that overtakes you, pushing it aside so you can start your duties.

Walking with Raphael becomes somewhat of a norm.

The repeating trend goes like this - you've just finished your Devildom History class, and as you walk out, he's somehow also nearby, which ends with him walking you to your next class. Sometimes, one of the brothers notices, and he ignores every one of their whines when they point it out. There are days when Luke and Simeon join the two of you (and if it's lunchtime, the twins are there with you too).

You talk about many different things - you ask a lot of stuff about the Celestial Realm, and he'll often tell a story or two from back when the brothers were still angels. There's a fondness in his tone whenever he recounts those memories, but you know he's content just knowing that the brothers are all together and happy in the Devildom. He asks you about your life in the Human Realm and what you were like before the exchange program, and you tell him of your days before the greatest plot twist of your life.

Somehow, you also manage to convince him to start teaching you how to sew. ("--literally not a day goes by where I don't have at least one tear on my clothes," you tell him.) You told him of that one time Beel started chewing through your school jacket because you spilled some juice on it, and then another time you tripped over a tangled wire in Levi's room, causing the seam of your jeans to split. ("--it's a miracle you still have any clothing left to wear," he comments. You swear you saw him hold back a laugh, but you don't mention it.)

Eventually he starts walking you back to the House of Lamentation, too. You're usually stuck doing student council duties after classes, so when it first happens, you're surprised to see him still on campus.

He manages to find a different reason each time you ask.

"I was at the library."

"I was sitting in the garden and lost track of time."

"I forgot something in the classroom so I came to pick it up."

He doesn't bother defending himself when one day, you walk out of the student council room, waving at him - "Thanks for waiting for me." He simply nods in acknowledgment.

When he walks side by side with you, sometimes your fingers brush; some instances longer than others, and you can't help but wonder what his hands would feel like on yours. Simeon once mentioned that angels had higher body temperatures, so would that mean his hands would be warm? Gentle?

As these thoughts run through your mind, you don't notice turquoise eyes on you the entire time, almost mapping each crevace of your face. He looks at your empty hand right next to his, and he finds himself wondering how it would feel like as he held it.

One day, the dam finally breaks.

He's walking you back to the House of Lamentation as always, and you're talking about Thirteen egging on Mephisto earlier that day. You stifle a laugh as you recount the noble waving his cane around ("like an old man," you describe), as he chased the reaper.

Your fingers are brushing against his again, but unlike most days when it's an unspoken tension, you feel the other hand slowly creeping up to yours, before it wraps it in its warmth. You look at your now-intertwined hands, and then to his face, seemingly avoiding eye contact with you. There's a warmth in his cheeks, and you feel his hand squeeze yours lightly, as if asking for assurance.

"Your hands are warm," you whisper, squeezing in return. From the corner of your eye you see his lips twitch upwards in a small smile, but you don't point it out.

When you reach the house, it takes some time for him to release his grip, but as he does, he takes his other hand, holding yours with both of his, and he brings it close to his face and plants a kiss to your palms, his eyes on you the entire time.

Your face is flushed, both in embarassment and twitterpation, as you try to avert your gaze from his - to no avail. You fear he can hear how fast your heart is beating even from a distance, as he sets down your hand he's been holding.

"I'll see you tomorrow," a rare smile is plastered on his face, which only worsens your poor heart's pounding.

"Yeah," you finally manage to breath out. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

You watch him walk away, heading back to Purgatory Hall, and start formulating a plan to get back to him. Maybe a kiss when he's not looking? You'll polish that thought later.

And as you drift off to sleep that night, you dream about the warmth of his touch, and wonder how warm the rest of him is.

[a/n: i haven't actually written a fic in quite a while so i'm kinda rusty ;; feel free to send me suggestions, etc! i wanna get back to writing more... Thank you for reading!]

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me raphael #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me raphael x reader #obey me fanfic

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spookychick78 · 7 months

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OG!Michael Myers X Fem!Vampire

Michael & The Vampire PT 2

Thought I'd bring the vampire back, it is October after all. Thinking about doing a little series with these two, let me know if y'all want some more with Michael and his vampy girl in the comments. Also, I may have gotten a little carried away with this one and it maaaay be like... over 5000 words. Anyway, stay spooky and enjoy. 🧛🏻‍♀️

WARNINGS: 18+, bloody af, rough sex, death, graphic depictions of violence.

Word Count: 5,751

Michael stood silent as ever. His brows furrowed with intrigue behind the pale rubber of his mask. He was observing something he'd contemplated for quite sometime now, he was watching her feed. It started shortly after she'd weaved her way into his daily life, his desire to watch her kill. She fed off of him with such vigor when he allowed her too, as if she had starved a lifetime for his blood, that he couldn't help but wonder what it looked like. It sounded silly, even to him, but one particular time he'd seen the image in the grimy reflection of his childhood home's windows. She was underneath him of course, he hardly ever allowed her to overpower him, but as he watched her nails clutch at the skin around where her teeth had sunk into him, he noticed an urge she was withholding. He hated to admit it, even in the silence of his own mind, but she had great strength. He was well aware he'd met his match and after a brief period of resenting her for it, he'd grown to enjoy it and quite a bit. He could push her well past her limits, bend her, shape her, break her in whichever way he chose. He could kill her, so to speak, bleed her dry and she'd lie there underneath him smiling drunkenly as he did so. She could easily do the same, occasionally she'd remind him of that, just as she did then. He watched her dig into him, that grip of her's turned deadly, he not only saw it, he felt it. It was absentminded for her, a byproduct of the potency of his blood. It brought her a high like no other, perhaps in reality, that was what kept her around. Not so much love, but blood lust for him and only him. Her eyes fluttered open to catch him studying her so intently and she grinned at their reflection. The small dribble of his own blood that ran down the side of her mouth made his breath quicken. He could have watched it for hours, but unlike her, Michael did have his limits as far as blood loss went. If she got ahead of herself, drank too much his eyes would fall shut and unconsciousness would overtake him. He would live of course, but he'd wake to find that image had been torn away from him, stolen by his own weakness. He wanted to see her finish it, he wanted to see her get her fill. More than anything, Michael wanted to see her kill.

It had taken him sometime to find the will to communicate his desire to her in his own silent way. It proved to be more difficult than he thought it would, as she rarely left the house and more rarer than that, she never brought home victims. She had no need to hunt any longer, he was her personal blood bag and she had enough wherewithal to know that when Michael hunted, he went alone. He never brought home trophies either, so she was quite surprised when he burst through the door dragging a man dressed in a poor excuse for a vampire costume by the hair. She had almost forgotten it was Halloween.

She stood from her usual resting spot on the old dusty couch and sauntered over to the front room to lean her wispy figure against the doorframe. With her arms folded, she smirked as she watched him hurl the man into the bottom of the stairs. Before he could regain his footing, one of Michael's boots rested on his back to press him down on the wood. He turned his head to her and waited for her to catch his drift, but she shook her head.

"Michael, what on earth are you doing?"

The man's struggling disgruntled her and she frowned down at him, "Do you mind?"

It was moments like that when Michael was glad his face remained hidden. If she knew she not only had the power to make Michael weak, but the ability to make him smile, her ego would most likely surpass his own. His eyes were hidden in darkness, just as his smirk was, as he watched her glide closer. She leant down and studied the gift he'd brought her.

"I'm surprised he's still alive," she mused as she reached down and brushed some of his auburn strands out of his eyes, "you don't usually keep pets, Michael."

She allowed the man a smile, revealing the sharp points of her exaggerated canines Michael had come to adore as she studied the man's fake ones, amused. That was when the man fell silent, frozen with fear or disbelief, one of the two. She chuckled before she stood straight once more and folded her arms. The usual smirk she wore when she searched him for words pulled at her lips as her pupils dilated and rendered her eyes glassy. That dark shade of orange began to invade them when Michael reached down and yanked the man upwards, putting further emphasis on his bare neck as he strained in the Shape's grasp. She was getting hungry and it seemed Michael wanted to taunt her. He raised his knife to the man's throat and allowed it to graze the fragile skin that hid his jugular ever so slightly, providing her a glimpse of red that trickled over the metal. Behind his mask, his eyes hadn't left her. He watched, captivated as he always was by something he'd seen her do time and time again. Blood lust had a way of making her ever more alluring. Those strangely illuminated orange eyes of her's widened as she watched those little rubies decorate his blade and her brows began to furrow, pained with want. When they cut back up to him, she scowled and a hiss slipped out past her elongated teeth.

"Don't tease me, Michael," she growled before her tongue slid over them with another glance at the red, "you know I hate it when you do that."

Of course he did. Normally, he'd take it further, use her lust against her and make her beg him to give her what she wanted, but this wasn't about what she wanted. It was about what Michael wanted and he growing impatient with her lack of understanding on the matter. He tossed the delicately bloodied blade at her feet and held her gaze through the black holes of his mask. She knelt down, less graceful than usual as she clamored for the handle, careful not to let a single drop escape the metal. She slowly let her knees find the ground below her, sinking in a sense as her tongue glided up the edge to collect her drug of choice. Michael's breath grew ragged and it hadn't gone unnoticed by her. That smirk returned as she took one last swipe of her tongue up the blade.

"You want me to, don't you? That's what this is about," she said in her sultry tone as her palms found the wooden floor and she began to crawl towards his captive, all the while those orange eyes locked on Michael, "well, why didn't you just say so?"

That remark earned some sort of sound from behind the mask. A quick huff, half amused by her subtle dig at him. She longed for conversation, but that was a long game to be played, something to tease her with for eternity, if he could convince her to grant him with it.

Once she was close enough to take hold of the man, Michael released his grip. Before he could fall face first onto the ground, she was on him. She hadn't taken her time in the slightest as she did when she drank from Michael. There was no wooing, no gentle caresses of her nails along his shoulder blades, it was brutal. Animalistic even, he thought to himself as he watched her grip tighten enough to tear his skin through his sleeves and stain them red. When she stood, he went with her. Michael couldn't tell if his was her hands that brought him up or her teeth. She was latched so deeply, feeding so intensely that it looked as though she'd tear through the area completely and render him headless. He had faded by then, gone limp as she clung to him. She held him in such a strange way, her hands like claws strained and struggled with the fabric of his shirt behind his back as he started to slip from her grasp. He wondered how long it would take for her to drain him completely. He was intrigued by how clean the entire ordeal was, she hadn't spilled a drop. She had been meticulous with him, far different than she was with Michael. With him, she liked to be messy, let him see her covered in blood, but then and there, there was no mess. She had drank every last drop. The wet sounds of her gulping started to die down and were replaced instead with contented sighs as she sat on the very edge of her high, just before his heart finally went silent. With no more pulse to steal, she pulled back. Michael marveled at the way her teeth unsheathed themselves from his now withered skin. Blades of her own, drenched in her preferred wine. Her head fell back as she reveled in the lingering taste and Michael's head in turn, tilted. That intrigue had rearranged itself into admiration, she appeared invincible. Her skin, which normally was pale, colorless, much like that of a corpse, had become vibrant. His life's end had renewed her's and she was radiant, empowered by death's gift to her. She turned to him then, her glowing eyes now more illuminated than before bore into him as a different kind of hunger invaded them. Intrigue of her own captivated her as she rested under his blackened gaze, that thus far hadn't left her. With a grin, she let their shared victim slip from her grasp and fall stiff on the ground. Her attention was all Michael's again as she drifted his way. The only movement she earned as she stepped closer was the subtle tilt of his head, it slowly dipped downward as she situated herself in front of his chest. Her palms rested against the blue fabric, warmer than they usually were as she continued her endeavor to understand why he'd brought her dinner. She delved past those black holes of his, curious when she found the glimmer of hazel hidden within all that darkness. He was focused so intently on her teeth, mesmerized more than usual by them and that curiosity of her's deepened, as did the subtle crease between her illuminated eyes. She reached for one of his arms, that hung stiffly at his sides and brought his hand to her mouth to let his rough skin rest on her open lips.

"What is it you want, Michael?"

Her softly spoken words offered the whisper of cold breath against his flesh and he stifled a shudder as he watched her nibble, just hard enough to sting. He pondered that question she'd asked arduously, he wasn't sure he himself even had the answer. Michael only craved two things; power and death. He had thought himself the embodiment of both until she had come careening into his world. Her mere existence had wounded his ego with such brutality. Though at times he enjoyed her unbreakable frame for his own personal use, unbreakable should have been a word used to describe only himself. Death and power were his to claim and yet, he had just watched her claim both for herself. She'd done it time and time again, used him to derive it and he'd let her. In reality, he wasn't sure he could stop her even if he wanted to and that must have been what ate at him most. It had to have been.

"Whatever it is, it's yours," she whispered as she nipped the tips of his middle and index fingers, "it's the least I can do to thank you for such a delicious meal."

Without warning, he ripped his hand from her mouth and replaced it around her throat. She didn't even grant him a flinch and her grin didn't falter. When she began to chuckle, his eyes narrowed. She already knew what he wanted, she was merely teasing him. She had a habit of doing that, just as he did, though he much preferred to be the one who dealt such agitating torment.

"Is it power you want? Death?" She said with ease, unfazed by the deadly tight hold in which he had her, "You're not nearly as mysterious as you imagine yourself to be, not to me at least. I can read you like a book, Michael Myers."

She noticed his hand trembled, not with fear but with rage. He wasn't at all impressed with her words, he rarely was, but she continued nonetheless with a few that would soothe his fury.

"I can give it to you," she said as she leaned into his grasp, invited him to squeeze harder, "just say the word and it's yours."

His head canted to the side again, slowly. She smiled at his signature movement and his brow furrowed. There was admiration of her own that she'd allowed to come to light in her expression. It made him rethink this odd relationship they'd come to form. If she meant what he assumed she did, he would no longer be her's to use, which thus far was what he believed she had stayed there for. He would no longer be her sustenance, he would be an equal. That is, if such a gift was even possible for him to receive. Death wasn't something easily given to Michael, but perhaps immortality. . .

Suddenly, she rushed forward, pinning him to the front door with such infuriating ease. Her slender fingers inched up his shoulders as she gazed hungrily at his covered throat, teeth barred. She drew closer, propped herself upon the tips of her toes to let her lips graze the ear of his mask.

"Come on, Michael. It's Halloween. Die a little."

Michael returned his hand to her throat, but this time he lifted her off the ground. As he glared up at her she beamed with delight, letting the sound of his ragged, fury fueled breath fill her ears and ignite that sense of danger she fed off of. His blood was heaven, sure, but what Michael didn't know was that what she lived for was his innate ability to bring about that feeling of fragility. He offered her a sense of mortality she'd almost forgotten. He reminded her what it was to be human, something she hadn't been in eons and it was something she wanted, needed for eternity. It was why she stayed locked inside that rotting house with him. It was what she truly hungered for.

That adoration began to fill her eyes again and Michael grit his teeth. He hesitated to say it was love he felt for her, but that irritating twisting sensation she brought about in his chest forced him to consider it, that and the simple fact that he wanted to give her what she desired. He wanted to give her himself. Whatever that meant, whatever she was about to do, he would allow it. His justification of such an uncharacteristic thing was his own curiosity. Michael doubted her ability to give him death such as her own, but to see her try would be most entertaining. More so than that, it would ease the worry of age, which was something she had no reason to fear. She would never weaken as he feared he one day would, she would never be stripped of her beauty, her power. Learning such things had confirmed what he had once been terribly uncertain of. He wanted what she had, he wanted to become like her; infinite. Slowly, he let his other hand wander up to the edge of his mask to unveil himself. As he did so, he lowered her enough for her feet to find rest on the wood below. She watched with amusement as he rid himself of the pale white visage she was so accustomed to. She had seen him maskless before, but his uncovered image never failed to bewitch her.

"You're a vision with or without that thing," she mused with a softer, more genuine smile, "you should know that."

He stood still, as he always did. His discomfort was evident, but he fought hard against it to look her directly in the eye as she memorized his details. He was so handsome it was irksome, she thought to herself. Even the scar over his left eye and that milky white coloring it had adopted did little to distract from his distinctly pleasant features. Soft, auburn curls rested gently atop his head, just barely grazing his seemingly permanently furrowed brows. He appeared petulant when he looked at her like he was then, a subtle scowl carving lines above his perky nose with his lips pursed, childlike even. His appearance was a stark contrast to what Michael truly was, his innocent looks were simply a facade, she knew that well. He dipped his head, it seemed to be a nod, a signal let her know he was waiting, ready for whatever attempt she desired to make.

"If it's your neck to want me to take, you'll have to lift your head, dear, not lower it," she teased.

He let out a drawn out breath and his eyes narrowed, never leaving her's as he obliged. A silent reminder not to taunt him with the power he allowed her to have over him, not to take it for granted. Perhaps she wasn't easily killed, but Michael's business was pain. He had ways of making her hurt and it would be in her best interest to remember that if she wanted to avoid such punishment.

"You'll enjoy this," she said as she perched herself against his chest once more, "I think."

Her arms snaked over his broad shoulders as she brought herself up. Now that he'd seen her take a victim, he rethought each movement she made. There was preparation to it, a softness in her touch and a distinct appreciation for him and what he offered her. He wasn't her victim, he thought to himself with suspicion, he was something else to her entirely. He caught the eerie glimmer of those teeth before he felt them sink deep into his jugular. Her bite however, was more forceful than usual, and he was glad she couldn't see how he winced when he felt that familiar, but more noticeable pull. What he hadn't been able to hide was the way he tensed under her hands.

"The pain is worth lifetimes of pleasure," she unlatched herself briefly to mumble against him, "just trust me, Michael."

When she returned to continue draining him, a pained grunt escaped his throat and he instinctively clung to her. His bruising grip on her own shoulders made her hum with delight as she herself returned his tight embrace. The pain was almost euphoric, it caused his eyes to widen in an effort to remain conscious for each moment, but they began to flutter shut, betraying his desires. A low hum infiltrated his ears as his heart beat faster in desperation to replace the blood she'd stolen from him. He began to crumble in her grasp, infuriated as that delirium that came with her bite weakened each of his limbs. She guided him to the ground and took the rare opportunity that had presented itself to straddle him as she continued. Her hands balled into fists, clutching the blue fabric of his coveralls to steady herself as she too began to feel the effects of draining him. It wasn't without effort, it was a longer process than most and she found herself struggling to finish what she'd started atop him. Finally, she felt him squeeze her as tight as he could before his hands fell limp from her shoulders and landed with a thud on either side of him. With an exasperated gasp, she ripped herself from his neck and threw her head back. Her grip on his coveralls loosened as she reveled in her own euphoria.

"That is a taste I'll miss dearly," she breathed before she allowed her gaze to drop down to his still body.

She bent down to press one finely tuned ear to his chest. The faint thrum of his heart brought a satisfied smile to her face. She'd succeeded in weakening him enough to complete the task at hand. She sat up again to admire how peaceful he looked. Michael's expression was rarely tranquil as it was then. It added to that false innocence she'd described before. He appeared angelic with his long lashes resting atop his now pale cheeks.

"I'm half tempted to keep you like this," she said as she brushed his cool skin and some of those tousled curls with the back of her hand, "you make quite a cozy seat."

She was certain he was seething behind that pretty face of his, assuming he'd even heard any of what she had just uttered. She resigned herself to refrain from any further teasing. He would wake soon and even she, as invincible as she seemed, was wary of the power she was about to grant him, but that sense of danger was so alluring. It made her wonder if curiosity would indeed kill the cat. Just as he had her, she'd have to trust that he wouldn't use his newfound abilities to erase her from existence, but trusting Michael Myers wasn't something came without risk. Perhaps there was something terribly wrong with her, she thought to herself as she once again questioned her own immortality while observing the one who could take it from her. Perhaps indeed, because that uncertainty, that gnawing sense of fear was why she loved him. He made her feel the threat of death, he made her feel alive.

"Ah, but cozy or not, I do believe it is your turn for a taste, my darling," she said before she brought her wrist to her mouth.

She hissed when she bit down, but persisted until she'd gotten her blood to drip steadily from the two small holes. She bent forward and gently lifted his head with her unwounded hand to guide him to her wrist. He winced, his mind was still spinning and an ache had settled into his neck.

"Shh," she cooed as she placed her skin to his lips, "drink, Michael. Take your fill."

After a moment's hesitation, she felt his mouth open to receive the drink she offered him, followed by the sting of her blood being pulled from her body. His brows unfurled and his expression became wanton, though his eyes were still shut. Slowly, but surely, strength spread to each of his limbs with each gulp he took. She let out a hiss when she felt him drink with more fervor than before.

"Careful, Michael. Don't get ahead of yourself," she cautioned as her brow furrowed.

He could hear her quite clearly now and he deliberately disregarded her warning. He brought his hand up to press hers harder into his teeth and lifted himself up as he did so, earning a pained cry from her. She tried in vain to pull her wrist from him, but it was useless. His strength had returned tenfold and she tasted delicious.

"Michael," she whined as she struggled against him.

She began to think she'd made a grave mistake as he continued to drink greedily, causing her to grow dizzy herself. Just as panic started to set in and her heart began to break for fear that she'd mistrusted him, his eyes shot open and wasted no time in locking with her's. Oh, and he saw it. She was finally afraid and more than that, she was terrified. He'd never seen such an expression on her face before, it was beautiful.

"Michael please," she begged, "if you drink too much you'll-"

Kill her, or so he assumed and much to his surprise, that wasn't at all what he wanted. He just wanted her to beg, after all he'd waited so long to hear her do so and she did. Before she'd finished that sentence, he lunged forward to press his lips to her's with brute force. He took his hands to his coveralls and ripped the fabric with one swift tug. He'd get another pair, he thought to himself, they weren't important at the moment. He had woken with an urge to claim her and it couldn't go unsatisfied for a second longer. He'd had her before, but not like this, not in this body, not as an equal. It was new and he wanted, needed to test its limits, if there even were any at all. Michael had thought he'd been the epitome of strength before, but this, what he felt as her blood filled him, this was ecstasy. It was undeniable, he had become the definition of inevitable, he had become death. He felt invigorated, power unlike any he'd felt before had replaced his blood and it rushed through his veins with a vengeance. He felt it with each movement he made, coursing through him like a drug. His whole body felt as though it was buzzing with static energy and she, she finally felt breakable in his grasp. He had every intention to annihilate her, bring her to the brink of death with that newfound method she'd unwittingly handed him and force her to cling to life for want of pleasure only he could give.

With incredible ease, he stood and her legs remained wrapped around his waist, but not for long. He meant good on his word in testing his limits and hurled her into the wall. Wood broke behind her and the expression on her face was oh so satisfying. Normally, she'd smirk, but then and there her chest heaved up and down and her mouth remained agape. She was still quite uncertain of his intentions and she had every right to be. She'd never seen such a look in his eyes before, it was hungry, but for what was the question. After he removed his tattered coveralls, he lunged forward and pinned her against the bent wood as he gave her clothes the same treatment he'd given his own. He discarded them to the side and his hand flew up to her bare chest to feel her soft, cold flesh under his own. His grip was bruising, rough as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and forced her legs open with his knee. He was frenzied and she had no choice but to follow his lead, which she did with that awestruck expression stuck on her face. He rethought their position and reached down with a frustrated growl to yank her legs back in place around his bare waist. He relished in the gasp she let out at the unexpected intrusion of himself inside of her and smiled wickedly when he felt her nails dig into his shoulders. He watched with amusement as her head fell back against the wall and her face contorted to display each sensation he brought her as he allowed her a moment to adjust. Michael, however wasn't known for his patience in such matters, so it wasn't long before he took her jaw in his hand and roughly forced her gaze back to his. He wanted to watch her try and catch her breath as he pounded into her relentlessly, more than anything, he wanted to watch her fail. It wasn't long before she did with her eyes rolled so far back in her head it rendered that orange glow invisible. He only furthered his efforts when he heard the house break behind her. He quite liked the idea of it simply falling apart around them. An undeniable display of his power, no less, but he became distracted as he watched her head bob back against the wall once more. She too seemed distracted, her moans escaping her permanently agape mouth without pause. She was in ecstasy and so lost in it that he knew she wouldn't dare stop him from doing exactly what he wanted to do. He returned his mouth to the crook of her neck, peppering it with kisses that steadily started to sting as he let his teeth find purchase there. Gentle nips soon turned deadly and he buried himself in her, allowing a satisfied groan to slip out when her blood filled his mouth.

"Michael," he heard her stutter out, but in reality it was more of a sound than a word, she couldn't form any to save her life.

It felt far too good to be able to speak coherently. He felt far too good. Between his endeavor to conquer that spot nestled so deeply in her core and the way he drank from her throat as though it were his last offering, she wasn't quite sure she was even conscious. Her vision blurred further each time he forced her farther up the wall with one brutal thrust after another and she waffled between the right word to describe what she felt as her mouth hung open to welcome another bruising kiss. Drunk, high, she wasn't sure, but it was somewhere along the lines of both. In simpler terms, he had fully succeeded in fucking her silly. He had brought her to the brink, just as he'd set out to do and now, Michael wanted to push her past it. When he pulled back to see that drunken smile pulling at her lips, he returned to her throat. He didn't have to look to know her brows had furrowed again, the sound she released confirmed that her face was contorted with pleasure. He had found a place inside of her she wasn't sure anyone had quite discovered before and she'd lived more than a few lifetimes, but none of them ever yielded such passion. When his fingers trailed up to tangle in her hair and force her head back, it was stars she saw painted on the old wooden ceiling. Her orgasm came careening over her in lofty waves, each higher than the one before and Michael still hadn't ceased his assault. He had found a brink of his own with her body clenched so tightly around him, forcing him to chase his own high more adamantly. It was right there within his reach as his head began to spin with that taste of her blood and the sound of her moaning his name. Her voice had become an echo, a breathy hum lost somewhere in the back of his mind as he felt himself fall head first over the edge. He came to an abrupt halt after he'd driven himself so far into her that she was certain she'd feel the consequences in the coming days, possibly even weeks. His breath, that he no longer had any use for, was uneven in her ear as he rested his hands against the wood in search for stability. He unsheathed his new weapons from her neck and his head, like a weight, pulled him to the side. He stumbled and she shook her own head to find some sort of grip on consciousness as she absentmindedly reached to steady him, but her attempt was quite unsuccessful. They both tumbled to the floor, her fall broken by his chest, which she landed on with a thud. Michael was too worn to care that she was on top and really, it no longer mattered. After all, they were equals now, so he let her rest on his bare skin as he stared blankly at the ceiling and focused on evening his breath.

After a good while of silence filled only by their labored pants, she propped herself up on him. Despite the pale coloring his skin had adopted that nearly matched his mask, she could have sworn he was flushed, just as entranced by their affair as she was. He tried to keep his breath steady through his nose, but faltered and allowed his lips to part ever so slightly and she chuckled, earning the attention of his gaze. It was more admiring than usual, for a brief moment it seemed he'd allowed her to see what had gone unspoken between them. She saw it in the red. His eyes matched the blood that trickled down the side of his mouth, they were sinfully scarlet. It seemed more fitting for him, but she was glad the dark hazel coloring she adored would return when his blood lust faded. Though for Michael, did it ever really?

"Well," she started with a sleepy grin, "that's one way to do it."

He abruptly sat up and for a moment, that fear crept back into her, but it dissipated when one of his hands found her cheek. His thumb brushed absentmindedly over her skin as he took her in with those crimson eyes. They wandered aimlessly over her features, as if he couldn't pick just one to focus on. For once, he was glad to see the trepidation she'd had fade. She noticed his lips twitch subtly at the corners and she wondered if it was his attempt at a genuine smile. Whatever it was, it was endearing, intimate in a way that they hadn't been before. When his brows furrowed, she realized he was trying to find words. She waited a moment, curious as his jaw began to clench and his expression seemed to sadden. Though Michael wanted to say it badly, he had no idea how to word it, it all sounded so silly each way he thought about it, but he felt it. It was only right he shared it, no matter how it made him squirm, but his discomfort hadn't gone unnoticed by her.

When a sound began to escape him, she quickly closed the gap between them to press a kiss to his lips and keep him silent. She felt him relax against her, relieved she'd finished his thought in a sense. She pulled back and flashed that fascinating grin that he now shared.

"I love you, is how you word it, Michael."

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etherfall · 2 months

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Alder Adopts N AU: B&W Full Story

I've been mostly telling this story through scattered posts and have made quite a few adjustments to the OG story, so here is a post where I throw everything together. TY to everyone that has contributed suggestions! (I don't have a story for B&W2 yet but will get to that once I finish the game)

Also also I'm not the best at plot heavy stories so if you have any constructive criticism I would be happy to hear it!

TLDR: Alder finds & raises N instead of Ghetsis, causing a disruption in his plan of Unova domination. Years later after getting told that the champion Alder is raising a boy that can talk to Pokémon, Ghetsis seeks to re-capture N and continue his goal of awakening Reshiram to defeat the Champion & take over Unova.

Now for the very VERY detailed version:

History

For a bit of history, Ghetsis has a brother who is the embodiment of Virtue and Purity (This stems from my HC of the two brothers). They are part of the Harmonia bloodline who once ruled Unova many years ago. The brother is kind, generous, and has the ability to communicate with all people including Pokémon (this trait is passed through the purity line), which is why he was crowned King of the remaining followers of the Harmonia family (The Pokémon league kinda has government power over Unova now, but there are still people that live under the rule of the old Harmonia family). Ghetsis on the other hand is the embodiment of Evil. Because of this he never got the throne, and loathed his brother for it.

Ghetsis crafted a plan for him to be able to take the throne from his brother. Using a Cofagrigus (specifically the one on his team), he tricked his brother into getting sucked inside the coffin & mummified. N is very young at this point, leaving Ghetsis as the only available Harmonia member to the throne. He soon turned his attention to world domination.

With his brother dead and his son left, Ghetsis was going to take advantage of N's ability to talk to Pokémon (that he knew would be inherited from his father's ancestry) to summon Reshiram since he could not do it himself. He would convince people to free their Pokémon so he would be the only one who had control. Once Reshiram was freed he would be able to overtake the champion and rule all of Unova. Except his plan would soon be disrupted...

The castle was thrown into disarray. Those who disagreed with Ghetsis were casted out of the castle. In the chaos the young N disappeared, foiling Ghetsis's plan. N was later found in the woods by a group of Pokémon, who would be the ones that eventually raised him.

In the absence of the old King, Ghetsis created Team Plasma, manipulating the people who followed him into liberating Pokémon from trainers under the guise of good intentions. Team Plasma went into secrecy, operating away from the public eye.

Without N, Ghetsis didn't have a figure he could put at the forefront of his plan, so he turned to the next two available characters: Anthea and Concordia. While they probably weren't able to summon the dragon like N could, Ghetsis crowned the two sisters as the Queens of Team Plasma anyways. Maybe with their combined power they would be able to take down the champion and that would be enough. He acted as their closest advisor and kept a close eye on them, paranoid that the two might team up and conspire against him.

While this was going on, the Pokémon Champion Alder had fallen from grace. Once a generous and headstrong champion, he had completely abandoned his responsibilities and left all the work to the Elite 4 members. Alder once had a Volcarona that he had every since he was young. But in his pursuit for power to maintain his position as Champion he pushed his Volcarona too far, which led to it's death. In the aftermath of this he was wracked with grief and guilt, fearful that he hadn't listened to his Pokémon enough and caused its demise. His passion for battling wavered, and he casted aside his champion responsibilities to wander Unova instead.

One day while he was trekking through a forest, he stumbled upon a young boy who was with a couple Pokémon (It's N!). He was curious but also a little concerned, since the boy didn't seem to have any family around. Alder decided to take the boy in, ending his aimless wanderings to return to his home.

Alder raised N as his own son, initially getting him adjusted to society. He quickly realized that N had the special ability to talk to Pokémon. This peaked his interest and he began to teach N about the human and Pokémon connection, especially how it was strengthened during battling. He found that N's ability to talk to Pokémon made him a very effective trainer since he was able to connect to his Pokémon well. He started to mentor N, which re-sparked his own passion for Pokémon battling. Alder began to pick up his roles as champion again, owning up to his responsibility of protecting Unova.

While N is living with Alder he has a very lively childhood. He and Alder like to wander around & explore Unova together, and spend a lot of time outdoors interacting with the wild Pokémon. N gets to meet a lot of different kinds of people, and sees the special connection that both people and Pokémon have together.

Alder encouraged N to use his powers wisely, recognizing that his ability to communicate with Pokémon gave him a lot of advantages. However he entrusted N's good will and never doubted that his son would use his abilities for good deeds.

N's team consists of the Zoroark, Sawsbuck, Darmanitan and Swoobat that raised him in the woods. On his journey through Unova he is amazed by the Klinks in Chargestone Cave, and one ends up following him/evolving into Klinklang. Finally his last Pokémon is an abandoned/injured Deino that he found in the woods. He raises it into a Hydreigon through compassion rather than hate. (Credit: Klinklang, Hydreigon)

News spread that the previously disgraced champion now had an adopted son who was becoming an exceptional Pokémon trainer. N was rising the ranks, growing closer to those around Alder (See here for Elite 4) and shaping up to be a possible future champion.

However, this news also spread to Ghetsis. The Shadow Triad came to Ghetsis one day with the news that Champion Alder had adopted a son who could talk to Pokémon, and they believed he could be the lost son N. Ghetsis was surprised, but now had hope that he would be able to summon the dragon once again if he could just get ahold of N. He sends the Shadow Triad to spy on N and Alder.

B&W Arc

By this time, N is around 18-20 years old. Alder has resumed his role as champion, and him and the Elite 4 are once again on good terms. Since Alder is busy with his duties N becomes the wandering one, traveling around Unova to talk to trainers & their Pokémon

This is when the protag starts their journey. They essentially go through the same B&W game story as a trainer traveling through Unova. I'm not gonna go through all the details, just the parts where there are differences.

The protag fights the sisters (alternating between A&C) in Accumula town & Nacrene city as they question the new trainer about the ethics of Pokémon battling, and later outside the Mistralton gym.

The protag first meets N at Nimbasa city, where he is staring up at the Ferris wheel. He introduces himself and talks to the protag about his fascination for Ferris wheels (as expected), and notes the protag's strong connection w/their Pokémon before wishing them good luck on their journey.

The protag meets Alder & N at route 5, where they introduce themselves as free-spirited father & son. They've been scoping out an increase in Team Plasma activity and warns the protag to be careful. They also appear together before Twist mountain with this same mission.

The protag finds N in Chargestone cave, peering at the crystals in wonder. He has a conversation with them & helps them battle past the grunts in the cave before heading off (Suggest here).

Atop the dragonspiral tower, the protag encounters Ghetsis with the Light stone, lifting it up into the air as he tries to summon the dragon to no avail. He sees the player approach and makes a hasty retreat

The sisters appear at Relic Castle a final time in search of the Dark stone for Ghetsis. Alder is there with the protag and warns the sisters that what they are attempting to do is not as good as they think it will be. The sisters ignore his words, vowing that they will defeat him and liberate all Pokémon

When N is traveling through the forest, he is attacked by the Shadow Triad. They expect the fight to be quick but N is strong, battling back ferociously. They were ordered not to hurt N but being unable to defeat him, the Shadow Triad barrel through N's Pokémon and take him hostage, forcing his Pokémon to stop fighting in fear of hurting him. N convinces his team that he'll be alright, reluctantly leaving with the Shadow Triad as they disappear into the woods.

N's Pokémon come barreling into Alders home in a panic. Alder can't understand what they are trying to say to him but he realizes that something bad must have happened to N. He contacts all the gym leaders, and they all start a huge search for him.

Eventually Skyla reports back to Alder that during a flight across the region she saw Team Plasma's castle rising up to engulf the Elite four, as well as N being taken into Team Plasma's castle.

Alder comes running up to Drayden after the protag defeats him in Opelucid city, begging him for help. The Team Plasma castle had risen up and trapped the Elite four members within their confines. N had also been kidnapped by Ghetsis. He was gathering all the gym leaders to put a stop to their plan

Meanwhile in the castle, N is locked inside an empty room for multiple days (ironically the room that would have been his childhood room in cannon). He is upset and confused about what is going on, sometimes banging on the door & demanding an explanation while other times trying to reassure himself that he will be rescued. The two sisters come to visit him every once in a while to talk to him about Ghetsis's plans of liberation for the greater good of Pokémon. N is understandably unhappy with his situation but doesn't lash out at the sisters, instead seeing them as misguided. He tries to convince them that their world view is wrong. The two sisters secretly take an interest in N and his ideals, as they start to question their own beliefs with every conversation they have with him.

One day, the sisters come to the door and tell him that Ghetsis has called him to summon the dragon. The sisters guide N to the throne room and are greeted by Ghetsis. They are about to enter together except Ghetsis stops the sisters, takes N and slams the doors shut. The sisters are shocked but realize too late that Ghetsis has just locked them out of the room with the Light stone, leaving N and the dragon alone in his malicious grasp.

Once they are in the room N turns to Ghetsis, demanding an answer for everything. Ghetsis puts on a facade and lies to N, claiming that he is his true father and has been searching for him all this time. N is shocked, falsely believing his words are the truth. Ghetsis explains his plan to liberate Pokémon from people, claiming that Alder is the one that is in the wrong. Ghetsis then asks N to kindly help him free the dragon from the stone, "fulfill his duty as a son of the Harmonia family" so to speak.

N eventually succumbs to Ghetsis's lies and frees Reshiram from the light stone. Ghetsis is overjoyed, having finally gotten the dragon from his plan. He heard from the Shadow Triad that Alder was making his way up the castle, and awaits his arrival. Unbeknownst to them the protag would reach the room first.

The protag makes their way up the castle and stops at this very door, finding A&C helplessly trying to get in. The two queens express their feelings of betrayal. They were expecting to summon the dragon together and witness the start of a better future for Unova. But after Ghetsis locked them out they realized his true intentions were not for good but for evil.

Once the protag breaks in with A&C, they find Ghetsis with Reshiram, and N standing off to the side. Sensing Reshiram, Zekrom awakens from the dark stone in challenge. Ghetsis, angry that the protag has interrupted him, orders Reshiram to attack. The two dragons begin to battle.

Halfway through the battle N calls out to Reshiram to stop fighting. He had been pondering on the side and decided that Ghetsis's ideals were flawed. Ghetsis is shocked and argues back, demanding that N stop this nonsense. But N refuses to back down, deciding that he would rather put his trust into all of the lessons that Alder has taught him over the years. How Pokémon and people are better together and push each other to greater heights. Reshiram stops fighting and flies to N's, putting an end to the battle and leaving Ghetsis's side.

(TW: Violence) Ghetsis is furious. He swings his cane in a fit of rage and strikes N, knocking him to the ground. A&C run forward in a panic but are blocked by Ghetsis's team. The protag attempts to battle him but loses the fight. Ghetsis orders his Pokémon to attack everyone in the room. At this moment, Alder has made his way up to the top of the castle

Alder charges into the room with N's pokemon team by his side. He sees N injured and angrily turns to Ghetsis. Before he can send out his own Pokémon, N's team has already charged forwards and started battling Ghetsis's team. Thematically, N's team is victorious because they have all been raised with care and compassion, not cruelty.

Once Ghetsis's team is defeated, Alder sends out his own Pokémon to surround & prevent him from escaping. However, the Shadow Triad swoop in and take Ghetsis away, leaving behind their Bisharp & Ghetsis's injured team to defend their retreat. Alder makes quick work of the Pokémon but by that time Ghetsis has already escaped

Alder wants to go after Ghetsis but decides to help N first. They embrace and N apologizes for worrying Alder, which Alder immediately dismisses. They get ready to leave and then realize that Anthea and Concordia have disappeared among the chaos.

Aftermath

The gym leaders have rounded up as many grunts as they can and take them away while the castle is abandoned. Ghetsis has fled the castle and his whereabouts are now unknown. The dragons return to their stone forms and peace returns to Unova.

Alder drops the protag off at their house before he then takes N home. N is understandably shaken up about what happened, and now also confused about the information Ghetsis has told him. Alder assures N that Ghetsis isn't his true father, but admits that he doesn't know if N is actually part of the Harmonia family line. N says it doesn't matter, since Alder will always be his true father to him (Alder will definitely not admit that this made him tear up a bit).

One day there is a gentle knock at their door. Alder opens it and is surprised to see the former Queens of Team Plasma at their door. He is a little hesitant to talk to them at first, but they tentatively say that they mean no trouble. After the collapse of Team Plasma they were freed from Ghetsis's control and fled in fear. But now that the castle was abandoned they wanted to learn more about the world they had misunderstood all their lives. They apologized profusely about what happened, saying that they truly had no knowledge of Ghetsis's intentions. N assures Alder that the sisters cared for him back at the castle, and they plan out a little plot of land nearby where the sisters can build a cabin to stay in.

Thus begins a moment of recovery & peace as Team Plasma's presence fades away...for now

#alderadoptsnau #n harmonia #unova #natural harmonia gropius #pokemon #pokemon black and white #pokemon bw #n pokemon #pokemon au #long post #pokemon alder #anthea and concordia #pokemon ghetsis #Idk how good this story is but I hope it's alright :')

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songsofnoble · 6 months

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lautski is so close to overtaking paulkins as my favourite starkid ship but paulkins are my og beloveds... they both make me go feral i love them both so much. i desperately need more lautski cameos in future hatchetfield stuff pls! i'd esp love joey's pete to be featured, as much as i'm rlly enjoying nick's pete in abstinence camp (still need to finish it)

#lautski #paulkins #nerdy prudes must die #nightmare time #the guy who didn't like musicals #black friday #like starkid doesn't always nail the romance in their shows but smth abt the hatchetfield romances make me go feral #paul matthews #emma perkins #pete spankoffski #steph lauter #stephanie lauter

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gayish-potato-f1 · 8 days

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As a resident OG Lance Stroll fan (I'm talking since 2016 here lol). I have many thoughts about the race and The Penalty.

First, I do think it's valid (if a bit harsh). Although Lance clearly didn't have anywhere to go and couldn't have reacted in time to stop the car, he still crashed into another car, something that could have resulted in injury and did result in damage and a DNF.

I look at it as if someone was pushed wide and overtook off the track. Even if the only way for them to get back on the track was to overtake, it's still looked at as an off-track overtake and is not allowed. The driver would either have to give the position back or get a penalty. Just because the driver overtaking was forced to make an illegal move doesn't mean they're exempt from the consequences.

Besides that, going into that corner, all those cars should have had more space between them. It was just luck that Lance was the one to get caught out and hit Riccardo. Thus, he's the one the FIA had to make an example of.

Sorry for my ramble, I have many thoughts 😅

#lance stroll #formula 1 #chinese gp 2024 #daniel ricciardo #lance is a talented driver and i will die on this hill

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ebaylee422 · 1 year

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Mending Our Home PT. 1

Dad!Steve Harrington X Mom!Reader

Author’s Note: We be needing more daddy Steve people. As well huge trigger warning for any of those who have struggled staying or getting pregnant. You are seen and heard and we should normalize talking about it. Because you are not alone! I have many other fics for you to read if this is too graphic. This is still a insert because it's an ongoing timeline, I have kinda started a series for Dad!Steve. So again, I'm thankful for those of you who do decide to read it and respect the ones who cannot!

Summary: Steve picks you up for work on a particularly hard day. Neither of you realized how much your life could change in just a few hours.

Characters: Steve, Reader, Teddy Harrington (oc child), Dr. Kerr (oc, readers doctor), Wayne, Joyce, Robin and the OG Posse of Nuggets.

Warnings/Tags: Graphic description of miscarriage!!!! I cannot say this more, do not read if you are triggered by hospitals, blood or anything of the type.

Word Count: 3.8k

Waiting on the dial tone as you called home, Steve was alone with Teddy. So you knew to wait and give him a few rings before trying your hand again.

“Yello, Harrington Residence! Teddy ‘member what we talked about when the phone rings?” You could hear the faint giggles and little voice respond ‘Yes, Daddy.’

“Hi babies, it’s me.” You responded, tired voice evident of your distress.

“Teddy go in the living room and get your stuffy.” Steve asks him with sicky sweetness a small distraction “Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Steve voice lowers his voice,

“I’m not feeling to well Stevie, boss let me off early. Could you come pick me up?”

“Yeah-yeah of course-. No not that stuffy the other one, we’re gonna go on a car ride to Nana and Pop-pop’s.” Shriek of Nana Joyce rung through the phone, splicing straight through your skull. “I’ll be there soon, just hold on for us. I’ll bring you home.”

“ ‘Mkay, love you. Don’t break any traffic laws.” You leaned against the cool metal of the phone box.

“I love you most. I’ll see you soon.” With that the dial-tone rang back and you set off to sit on the curb of the diner, waiting for your husband. He came not even 20 minutes after your phone call, parking job shoddy at the very least but all in one piece nonetheless. You stood slowly, Steve sprung out of the car opening the passenger door just shy before you could reach the handle. You leaned against him as he hugged you, arm limp at your side. Fatigue overtaking your body when you finally sat down in the car, mostly.

“You okay, Sweets?” Steve knelt down to eye level, putting his hand on along the roundness of your knees lovingly. You sighed, hunching over.

“I swear if this is the first trimester of pregnancy aches, I don’t think I could possibly give birth again without an assortment of drugs lined up at the ready.” You tried to joke, blowing a laugh out your nose. Which made Steve smile bright and big.

“Well unfortunately we burnt up the singular Russians lab years ago, so I can’t get you anything foreign.” You both laughed, “Have you eaten anything yet?”

“No, everything makes me want to puke my spleen out.” He got up and set your bag in the back, shuffling for something else behind the seat. You got the courage to swing each leg into the car. Leaning into the leather seats, it was pretty muggy outside. Steve’s head came into view again with antacid and water, along with a brownie he’d made the other night with Teddy. Dancing to Bob Segar’s greatest hits. You smiled taking the pill and the brownie, he opened the water bottle placing it between your thighs. He leaned over placing a kiss onto your forehead, unnecessarily aiding you with the seatbelt and gently closing the door before hopping in the driver's seat.

“Stevie, you shouldn’t be driving this late give me a minute. I was just scared to be by myself.”

“I’m fine, scouts honor.” You furrowed your brow at him, he was beat up so much in high school his vision and hearing is slightly impaired on one side. “I know the way home like the back of my hand, I’ve gotten used to the blurriness.” Hunger subsided but the pain slightly increased as he was driving home, something felt wrong. Pressing yours eyes shut to aid in the nausea, wringing your knuckles into the leather seats as waves crash over you they stopped with a sharp inhale.

“Hey what’s going on? Not sleeping already are we?” his eyes flickered between you and the road, placing a hand on top of your thigh. Shaking your head, realizing that probably wasn't the best idea as you fought not to get sick in Steve’s BMW. Not that it hadn’t happened before, you were both 21 for a whole year.

“I think I just over did it today, I bet a bath and definitely some sleep and cuddles will help. I’m all dizzy and cramping.” Groaning, pushing the back of your head into the cushion behind it. Holding his hand tightly, breathing through the cramps.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Steve asked, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles.

“It’s okay, just wanna go home and be comfortable.” You assured him as he turned to go home. When finally seeing the dim parking lot relief oozed for your shoulders as he pulled into the assigned spot. You unbuckled, he held tightly to you walking through the apartment complex, up the stairs to the apartment. Only letting go as he started a bath. Sitting on the edge of the already made bed slightly confused, everything was dizzy and blurry until Steve knelt down in front of you. Helping you to the bathroom, sitting on the toilet while the steam clouded the mirror.

“Okay, here I set everything up. If your okay being alone for a minute. I’m going downstairs to make some dinner quickly. I’ll check up on you, then we can go get Teddy from the Byers if you’re feeling better. Otherwise you know Joyce and Hop love the company now.” he kissed the top of your head closing the bathroom door behind him.

Beginning to undress, moving the water between your fingers to see how hot it was. Taking off the now ever tightening diner uniform, stopping at your underwear there was a small red spot. You’d had a rough birth with Teddy, your doctors weren’t concerned for later pregnancies. The cramps came over you once again distracting, nearly knocking the wind out of you. You quickly sunk deep into the rose scented waters, moving your hands through your wet hair. Beginning to massage your abdomen, it was extremely hard, the pressure was unbearable. Then white shocks of pain started flowing through your center, twisting relentlessly. You groaned and thrashed slightly in the water, you couldn’t catch your breath. There was burning going down your legs, you opened your shut eyes to see the water turned a bright red. You yelled for Steve in shock, pain and so many other things bottled up inside. Hyperventilating, when the door crashed open you were barely able to keep your eyes open as Steve rushed to you. Diving over your frame, lifting you out of the water and a towel wrapping around you. You saw lights flickering to and from each eye, small pinches in your arms. Darkness came over your consciousness, pain subsided. Waves of movement and lights came about once in a while, as well as voices. Several voices through time and time again, until you opened your eyes to strange surroundings. Waking up from a really good nap, taking in your surroundings; beeping of monitors, extremely bright lights, a sickly clean smell with a mix of sale metal. Moving just your eyes around you could tell it was a hospital, there was warmth to your left hand. You dizzily tried to move your head to look over, Steve had one hand in yours while the rest of himself was toppled over leaning on the other propped up by his legs. Rubbing and scratching at his scalp,

"Stevie?" You said just above a whisper, his eyes met yours. He jumped forward on his feet, leaning over the bed.

“Baby? Oh my god,” he brushed your hair from your face, endlessly kissing everywhere. Feather light kisses on your hand, cheek, temple, jaw and forehead, “I thought I wouldn’t see those beautiful eyes soon enough, Jesus Christ,” he pressed a button on the wall and a faint red light flickered. You yawned with a dry mouth, suddenly aware you are hooked up to the beeping machines. Along with an IV and Blood bag, there was also something taped to your leg. You shifted trying to sit up comfortably when an extremely tall older man pushed the curtain open.

"Woah, hold on there Mrs. Harrington. You're quite freshly out of the ER. I'm an anesthesiologist, just checking you feel alright before I get Dr. Kerr. Any confusion, chills or feelings of vomiting?” you shook your head, feeling some drowsiness but overall not terrible.

“Great, and any pain I should alert your charge Nurse of?” you shook your head again, moving your taped up hand over your stomach feeling excessive fabric there. You looked at Steve who held tension in his eyes, “alright well, I wish you a speedy recovery ma’am, I’ll let my colleague know you’re ready.” the man wrote something on the clipboard, before walking out and shutting the curtains again.

“Hey, you’re here. That’s the only thing that matters-” Steve started.

“What happened? Is the baby okay?” you asked him scared, his face contorted with pain. Sitting back down pulling his tiny chair closer, hanging his head in shame. Red, all I saw was red. Those words were so similar to ones said to you, what seemed like a lifetime ago. They rang through you like a séance but desired something else this time, you felt Steve’s other arm reach up holding yours fully in place. He was shaking before he came up for air,

“I’m sorry Sweetheart, there’s nothing I could do. I-” The curtain ripped out to reveal a stout man your primary doctor and a even tinier woman full of gusto. Who you knew to be Dr. Kerr and a probable Nurse,

“Evening Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. Just wanted to give you a final diagnosis as well as some time for us to discuss after care.” Steve wiped his face, you looked at the wrinkles in the curtain. Dazed with all the drugs you were probably on, everything felt dry. You didn’t even realize you were smacking your lips until a cup appeared in front of you. It was ice chips with a spoon added to the top, the woman handing it to you nodded before stepping back behind where Dr. Kerr had sat across from Steve. “Mrs. Harrington, do you remember much?” you shook your head in response, Steve reached out to hold the cup as your free hand scooped up ice slowly. The cold crunch sent a shiver down your spine, a hand still tangled with Steve’s rings rolling against each other. “Then please know that I’m giving you the facts and that it may indeed be hard to hear.” you took another scoopful, making short eye contact with Steve before putting the spoon back into the cup. "We weren't able to save the baby, it was an ectopic pregnancy. Have you heard of them before?” You shook your head. “It was the main cause of the abdominal hemorrhage or severe bleeding, so you unfortunately miscarried…” You swallowed hard, looking at Dr. Kerr for the first time since giving birth to Teddy. His eyes were a dark blue, rich with knowledge and no doubt pain. You felt your heart grow heavy, breathing then swallowing. Repeating the word over and over again.

“Miscarried.” You said out loud, out of body only stating it as he did without hesitation.

“Yes, there would have been no way to save it. It's very important that you know it's not your fault, as well the risks moving forward fertility wise are concerning but always possible." You felt so many things at once; numb, angry, relieved more than anything from the pain. Steve’s voice churned you from your thoughts,

"Why's that?" Steve asked, holding your hand a bit closer to his chest.

"More often than not after one ectopic miscarriage, the risk for another one is extremely high. About 1 in every 10 women, which is more than a simple miscarriage. As well, since we did have to expel the rest of the fetus. We have no way to measure fertility until the future, it determines how suitable the uterus will be unless we simply try other means of procreation. Those I'm afraid are very expensive but worth the health and wellness of your partner. If you wish to continue to have a child once she’s healed, you're both fairly young. There will be plenty of time for you Mrs. Harrington." Your heart was shattering, tear slipping into the collar over your starchy hospital gown, Steve pinched his nose sniffling with you.

"I would like to keep you here for at least 24 hours if that's alright, you may stay with her unless they run a test or scan Mr. Harrington. Otherwise, you'll be shown some exercises by physical therapist to prevent blood clots. To just give us more peace of mind that you will not hemorrhage again. Since the blood loss was towards the extreme as well as the circumstances. I do not want to take any chances, despite how much I enjoy your family.” Looking at Dr. Kerr you gave him a hopeful smile, “You'll be moved into a private room shortly for the remainder of your stay, I have walks scheduled every four hours for you to do with a Medical Assistant. Until they clear you from a one person assist, please do not try to do much but the assigned walking and of course eating in an hour would be fine. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight or questions that you have?" He reached out holding your shoulder comfortingly, like a father figure would.

“No.” You shook your head, tears hadn't stopped since he entered but your breath finally catching when you spoke clued the other into your own misery, guilt swarming between all of you.

“Our family is in the lobby, when can they see her?” Steve asks for you, you look up from the curtain across the walls to his face. His eyes, red, heavy with dark circles and so swollen, lips dry and his hair a mess. He looked so young next to you, you were both so young barely 25.

“As soon as she is completely aware from the general anesthesia, and moved to the private room. However, now that she is awake I will need you to step outside into the hall Mr. Harrington.” You shoot your eyes to the doctor.

“Why?” you ask, your voice is so quiet and hoarse.

“Just a precaution while my nurse asks you a series of questions. Because of how tragic the event was we just need to ensure somethings.” You start to speak, but Steve squeezes your hands.

“It’s okay, Sweets. They probably just, just want to confirm my story. I’ll be right in the hall waiting for them to be done.” Steve stands from the chair pulled next to your bed, and places your hand on the side of the bed before walking out with the doctor. You finally notice Steve is in light brown scrubs, they open the curtain where dozen of others are either alone or holding their sick loved ones.

“Oh I almost forgot, sorry it’s my on-call night. But healing should be about 2 to 4 weeks, so nothing should be inserted into your body after they remove the catheter.” You curtly nodded at him again as Steve walked with him shaking Dr. Kerr’s hand. Shortly after a tall dark skinned woman in dark blue scrubs comes over and closes the curtain.

“Hello Mrs. Harrington, I’m Nurse Maywood. I need to ask you a series of questions, are you alright with that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She moves to the foot of your bed so you don’t have to strain to see her.

“Alright I need you to answer as truthfully as possible each time. First one, how are things going at home?” You almost laugh, until her raised eyebrow shows signs of extreme seriousness.

“We’ve been working a lot, both my husband and I. While taking care of our young son, until tonight things have been blissful.”

“Has any of yours or Mr. Harrington’s behavior's changed due to this pregnancy?”

“No.” Her brow raised again, (blanking) you to continue. “I’m sorry, is Steve in trouble?”

“Mrs. Harrington we just want to ensure your health and safety.”

“Steve is a wonderful husband and father, he picked me up when I started having pain tonight despite taking care of our son as well. He has never emotionally or physically hurt me or my child.”

“That’s enough for me, Ms. I am truly sorry for your loss, and do recommend postpartum therapy for all women I see. You are not alone.”

“Yes, I appreciate the gesture. I just need my family now.” She smiles, respectfully leaving bringing Steve to you again. Followed by more Nurses in scrub but the original pitete Nurse from Dr. Kerr.

“Hey, you needed me? Did everything go okay?” you nod at him, with a somber smile. The two people look at your chart, one walks away before one begins to speak to you.

“Y/N Harrington? We’re about to move you to a private room now, if you just step aside for a minute Mr. Harrington.” You push yourself up on the pillow a little, still extremely numb in your abdomen. The woman comes back with a large wheelchair, then takes your IV and other monitors and puts them on the tall pole attached to the back of the chair. Steve pats your head and moves out of their way, the man who spoke to you draws the curtain. They both put on gloves, Steve staying by your head as they removed your catheter. Running his hand through your hair, soothingly. They wiped everything, before coming back up to speak to you.

“Alright honey, we're going to do a two person assist to get you into the wheelchair. Since you're still quite numb and drowsy, each of us is going to take hold of the support under you, you’ll sit up completely, she’ll move your legs off the side of the bed while I hold you upright. Then we’ll use a belt above your sternum and pivot you to the wheelchair. Sound like a plan?” You nod and do exactly as they instruct, to their surprise you have more strength than they thought. “Thanks Shelby. Alright Mr. Harrington if you’ll just follow us.” it’s quite a way before he carts you into a room. The belt still strapped to your chest he pivots and assists you into the bed by himself while Steve watches from the foot of the bed. The man leaves you two alone, closing the door behind him. Steve doesn’t move, until you reach your hand out to him. He forces a smile, walking around and grabbing it with both hands. You pat the side of the bed, and try to scootch over making room for him.

“Hey, hey. I don’t want you hurting yourself, careful.” He stops your hips,

“I just want you to hold me,” you say innocently through your lashes, Steve instantly melts. Putting his arms under your legs and behind your back moving you over just enough that he can lay sideways next to you. You have to lay on your back but it doesn’t mean you can’t turn your face to his. You brush the hair away from his eyes, caressing the side of his face, he sighs as his heavy eyes close.

“We should let them know you're awake,” he whispers to you, eyes closed. Holding the forearm caressing his face, the other had the IVs still attached so you kept it against your midsection. His free arm draped across your lap, below.

“We should get some sleep first, where’s Teddy?” he props his head on his hand with his elbow flush against the bed, trying to avoid sleep.

“He’s with Aunt Robin and Dustin at home. So just Joyce and Hopper. Nancy and Jonathan have been keeping the others updated. Everyone went to the Wheelers to wait for news.” he yawns huge at the word news.

“So you haven’t slept for like, over 36 hours?” he shrugged.

“I was terrified, Robin kept me updated on Teddy I was able to say goodnight to him. He-he doesn’t know yet, I didn’t know what to say. I don’t think-”

“Steve, one thing at a time. You need to sleep. It’s okay we’ll figure it out, this is not good for you.” he groaned neck cracking as he rolled off the bed.

“And I will, but first. I’m going to go get them and get us some refreshments and gross hospital food.” grabbing his wallet from the front of his brown scrub pants. “Also Joyce brought clothes for us and these are a little ripe.” He pulls at the collar of his scrubs, and grabs the call button clipping it to your pillow. “I’ll be right back, promise.” You take hold of the hand he was using and press the side of your face with it.

“I would kiss it but we’re in a hospital, and I don’t know when you last washed them.”

“Yeah that’s fair,” He leans down leaving you with the impression of his kiss on your temple and thoughts. Caressing the side of your face before walking out the door. After a minute of contemplating you pull the sheet down and slowly bring the nightgown up. You of course weren’t wearing anything except this thin gown, ribbed gray socks and a ginormous diaper they slipped on after removing the catheter. Holding your mouth to quiet the sobs, you needed to calm down before they came back. They were all already so worried about you, so much you can’t imagine how Steve was still standing. You let your mind wander until feeling like you had to go to the bathroom, it hurt to let it sit in your bladder so you pressed the call button. After a few moments there was a knock on the door, someone announced themselves before entering, “Hello, Mrs. Harrington, what can I help you with?”

“Am I allowed to use the restroom with assistance or do-do I have to pee myself?” You asked quietly,

“Great question, if you're uncomfortable standing right now. You can most definitely use the alternative, but it is good to start moving right away. Just like you normally would postpartum.” She helped you use the restroom, changing the pull up as you continued to bleed. She assured you, it will likely occur for a couple days until your hormones balance again. There was a small shower and everything in this room, you were probably in Labor and Delivery now. You were able to wash your hands and wipe your face off a bit, before leaving she helped you to an upright position in the bed and got you some ice chips. It took about 15 minutes total. She made you feel more human. Instead of overwhelming you with information she was making you as comfortable as possible. Knocks clambered the door, opening to reveal your family. The answer to salvation in the darkest of times.

Masterlist

Part Two

#dad!steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #angst #reader insert #stranger things #no minors allowed

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zukadiary · 2 months

Text

Kazuki Sora taidan diary 〜 2024.2.11

(also kind of a Boiled Doyle on the Toil Trail / Frozen Holiday write up)

I've now woken up eight times in a world where Kazuka Sora is an OG (changing that number daily, as I've been trying to write this for six days), and the sense of having somehow slipped into a severely incorrect timeline is getting progressively stronger. Coupled bizarrely with that is deep, deep gratitude that, despite everything that's happened in the last four years, and especially in the last five months, she got a gut-wrenchingly, absolutely devastatingly beautiful taidan. I can't say perfect, because perfect would have been after a well deserved top star run. But barring that, I never dreamed it would get this close.

Long post incoming.

I have to set the stage...

Once upon a time in 2013, Asaka Manato, then nibante in Ouki Kaname's Soragumi, got her turn starring in Brilliant Dreams +NEXT, a multi-part Sky Stage series where you got to like, do some stuff of your choice with other people in your troupe. She decided to recreate some of her favorite revue choreography, and a friend alerted me that one episode was dedicated to the infamous Rosso scene from Takarazuka's Dream Kingdom (which, as you can see in the linked post, completely short circuited noob me from a decade ago). Maasama was still a good 2+ years from winning me over at the time, and I think I reluctantly watched it with some level of offense that she touched a Komu thing. As I'm sitting in front of my computer rolling my eyes, out comes this tiny thing in capri pants, mismatched socks, suspenders, and thick glasses: ken-4 Kazuki Sora, here to report on the situation in the rehearsal room.

She spent her airtime cracking jokes, tripping on her tongue, riding on Susshi's shoulders, and generally acting like Soragumi's annoying kid brother. I thought she was funny.

Another friend told me she thought she was tracked. I absolutely did not believe her.

Then, against a fair amount of adversity, she got the 100th anniversary Rose of Versailles shinko lead, and my eyes widened a bit. The next time I found myself in Japan, I was gifted a 9th row seat to what coincidentally happened to be her first ginkyou crossing in PHOENIX Takarazuka! I'd been spending the show curiously scanning the stage for her, and when I witnessed the gap between reporter and performer, my jaw hit the floor.

Afterwards, my kangeki companion asked if I was interested in anyone in the troupe. I said Kazuki Sora. She recoiled and said "but she's so short."

***

Something that I noticed during this taidan trip is that covid-era fans met a wildly different Sora than I know. Growing up in 2010s Soragumi was uniquely rough. I'm not even talking about ::hand waves:: the present circumstances and what may or may not have lead up to them; I mean they persisted with a level of star saturation through the dawn of the pandemic that had kinda crazy consequences for the otokoyaku track. Not only was the track itself overcrowded, but the troupe also held onto a number of non-tracked upperclassmen to whom they seemed unwaveringly committed to casting in juicy roles. I remember when things seemed so untenable that Soragumi fans were universally on pins and needles waiting for what felt like an inevitable big transfer out, and I remember freezing in shock on the side of the road when instead they transferred Serika Toa in.

Here's some analysis for perspective:

Kiki is the third oldest top of all time, and spent more time as nibante alone than Tamaki Ryou took to get from debut to top.

Lord knows how long Soragumi will be in this state of flux, but if they come out of it and Kiki gets a normal number of shows, AND Sakuragi Minato is next, Zun could immediately overtake Kiki for third place

Speaking of Zun, her first two-city lead was in 2020. Looking at her top star douki, Rei Makoto's and Yuzuka Rei's were in 2017, and Tsukishiro Kanato's was in 2018.

Rukaze Hikaru's first bow lead was in 2019, two years later than her other tracked douki, Akatsuki Chisei (four if you count A-EN).

Slightly more invisible but just as devastating, the lessened exposure on stage between leads has likely resulted in lower fan club numbers and less overall popularity.

...and back to Sora. Hundreds of us filled Hibiya Park this past weekend, but Sora spent her early Takarazuka career so buried that, despite being a triple threat on stage and an utter delight off, her fan base was small enough that at ken-7 they let me, not yet even a club member, accompany my friend to demachi where I became the third attendee. For years, Sora was, frustratingly, an in-person only watch. I'd go to Japan, memorize her positions, miss the rest of the show for following her with my opera glasses, and pop in the DVD at home only to find her always just off screen. A Motion was one of the most fun times I've had in a Takarazuka theater, and on the DVD during my favorite Sora SOLO, the camera is on Sorahane Riku wordlessly dancing.

I was floored when she got Anita. I was livid that she could give THAT PERFORMANCE and immediately afterwards be cast as an ensemble soldier in Red River (although she was so good in Citrus Breeze that after 5 years of deluding myself that I "couldn't betray my beloved Yukigumi like that" ((ironic, right?)) I finally caved and joined club). I stress dreamed multiple times about the impending bow announcement before she got Hustle Mates. I cried when she finally came down the stairs between two musumeyaku in Ocean's Eleven at ken-10, in which she played Linus, a role that felt like a big break even though it had previously always gone to ken-6s. FINALLY, the massive Ocean's taidan relieved a little pressure, and I felt a tangible thrill when suddenly she was all over the Aqua Vitae shonichi digest, something that had never happened before.

That's where we left off in February 2020, when the Diamond Princess docked in Yokohama, and my therapist didn't know what I was talking about when I said I was giving myself a stomachache watching live case numbers ahead of my scheduled trip, and I canceled my flight, and I put my freshly printed pack of homemade Suleiman postcards under my bed, and I didn't see her for 4 years 4 months and 3 days.

***

It's hard to talk about Sora's taidan announcement and not come off as biased and overly dramatic, given that she's my girl. But in 11 years of countless taidan announcements, I've never come close to being as blindsided by one as I was with hers. The vibe I've gotten is that fans, siennes, and patrons alike were all properly shocked.

I'd spent the better part of a decade internally screaming for Takarazuka to act like they recognize her undeniable talent. Frustratingly, it finally started happening during covid. While I was living under the impression that Hustle Mates was a genuine miracle, she got an unimaginable second lead... then, thanks to the breathing room in her new Yukigumi home, a third... and then a fourth. Having been burned for so long, I've always firmly been team I-don't-think-Sora-is-going-to-make-top, but despite that, I was actually starting to believe it could—dare I say would—happen. I wasn't even certain the people murmuring on twitter that she might leapfrog Aasa were completely delusional. I went into Hyperbolic Chart, my looooong awaited reunion, excited to assess Kasumi Sana as her potential future partner. I enthusiastically bought all her postcards for future writing, because the last time I'd seen her, she, at ken-10, didn't have postcards.

Two days after that I found myself again frozen in shock on the side of the road.

Two days after that.... yeah.

***

Somehow, despite 11 years of knowing how this works, of weathering various taidans with friends, of crying in bathrooms until they started cleaning the theater at taidans that weren't even technically mine, I was also completely blindsided by the taidan experience itself.

Part of it was definitely the time skip, from years of intimate Sora fandom to nothing to a couple of A-seki (she's the it girl now!) for a lead I wouldn't have chosen with a troupe I barely recognize anymore to bye, she's gone. Part of it was being thrown back into this after 4+ years of pandemic-dulled emotions, followed by the exhaustion of Takarazuka's crisis era. Part of it was lowered expectations from the largely uninspired and under funded lineup of forgettable shows churned out by tired directors of dubious morality. Part of it was the disaster-shortened Mura run, the self-preserving dissociation fueled by the pain and disbelief that there was a dinner show and I wasn't at it, followed by a month and a half stretch of work so busy it was still going while I sat at the ANA gate for my 1am flight.

But I got here and squeezed into one of those red seats and then all at once I was an unsealed vacuum, cracked wide open, and Doyle and Frozen Holiday rushed in and filled the airless void till it burst.

Boiled Doyle on the Toil Trail

I've been down on Yukigumi.

Yukigumi has been my home troupe for the vast majority of my fandom. I had the fancy Swarovski crystal Yukigumi bag charms, the whole Yukigumi getup from Sports Day '14, Yukigumi albums, Yukigumi chopsticks, etc etc etc. I literally didn't join Sora club for years because I couldn't imagine being pulled out of Yukigumi. But while I was locked out of the country, the march of time took my favorite top star and the vast majority of my emotional support upperclassmen. The pandemic spit Yukigumi out in a state that just made me reeeeeeeeally sad. So I stopped watching them. That's the exact moment they picked to put Sora there.

I hate to admit it, but I still haven't totally caught up on her Yukigumi time.

Which is probably the main reason this show caught me SO off guard... even having watched AND enjoyed the Mura livestream. Sora is best watched in person, after all.

Doyle—a silly take on Arthur Conan Doyle's life, and how he used a magic pen to write Sherlock Holmes by accident, thus setting into motion a runaway series of events—is not only a fun and joyful show, it's a masterpiece of casting. The top 4 were at their absolute peak, and it was a thrill to watch.

I've been watching Ayakaze Sakina since her shinjin kouen days, and my write-ups over the years probably betray my rollercoaster hot and cold journey through her career. I really liked Doyle as a lead for her though. She essentially plays a big idiot wifeguy with a dream, an imaginary best friend, and little conviction; she was very funny and charming. If you were one of the lucky few who managed to see On the 20th Century, think that guy but earnestly the main character vs. dude with main character syndrome. The older I get, the more I have a soft spot for shows where the top combi has "ecstatically celebrating at least their tenth wedding anniversary" energy, and this was one of those.

...Thanks in large part to Yumeshiro Aya, who is absolutely everything. She may be boosted by consistently reminding me of Shirahane Yuri since her partial lead in the 103s Bunkasai, but she also has a very particular type of girlboss energy that I don't feel like I've seen in quite a while. It isn't wearing the proverbial pants energy (a la early TamaChapi), but it is overwhelming I got this energy. I find her to be the absolute embodiment of a top musumeyaku, in that she understands the assignment (making the top star better), while perching on the edge of the backseat just enough that she doesn't overpower Saki, but she's still a knockout in her own right. She probably exudes an extra dose of this energy as Louisa Doyle, who plays a very similar role in her husband's life and writing career. I could not be more thrilled that Aya isn't retiring yet.

Asami Jun plays the aforementioned imaginary friend/magic pen-generated apparition, who happens to be Sherlock Holmes. Some people I've talked to seem a little disappointed in her stage time, but I really felt like this was also peak Aasa. She seems to have broken through a layer of ceiling and gotten really comfortable leaning into her c***y unique energy, which, though I can picture it being polarizing, really does it for me. I sure as hell have never seen an interpretation of Sherlock Holmes REMOTELY like Aasa's, but I was enjoying the Aasa of it all so much that I really didn't care.

When I saw that Sora was playing the editor of Strand Magazine, I was somewhat disappointedly imagining a role like Lestrade (not to invoke another Sherlock), the sort of there-but-not character that has dominated her Takarazuka career since she started getting named roles. My first surprise was how good of a role this was in general, and then how well suited it was to her. She gets to be aloof and handsome, but also incredibly upbeat and funny at times. Her little coworkers at her utterly failing magazine are obsessed with her (which is the mood of the century), and there is a cute little meta moment where Doyle threatens to stop writing Sherlock and Sora tries to quit her job, only to be restrained physically by said coworkers (which is the mood of the moment). Everything from the set of her off-gray permed wig to her 4 or so different plaid suits to her opening solo number was absolutely perfect (not as perfect as it was gonna be later!!!!!).

FROZEN HOLIDAY

It's weird watching a Christmas show in February

I rapidly stopped caring

Speaking of rollercoasters of hot and cold, Noguchi used to be my most hated revue director, hands down. Circa 2017-18, after being deeply personally burned by Super Voyager (and deeply personally confused by Beautiful Garden), the tension I felt while awaiting show announcements hoping I wouldn't have to watch another Noguchi was intense. Noguchi revues being something people covet nowadays still feels unfamiliar, but I count myself among people.

He turned it around for me with the Takarazuka equivalent of winning the grocery store ingredients episode of Project Runway: Delicieux, a covid-budget masterpiece of public domain music and foam macarons (incidentally, also a goodbye to Sora of sorts, as it was her last Soragumi revue). I officially owe him my life after what he did for her in Frozen Holiday.

Firstly, going into my 11th year of watching live Yukigumi, I've never seen Saki shine brighter. While ostensibly a Christmas spectacular, Frozen Holiday was also meant to celebrate Yukigumi's 100th anniversary. Despite the aforementioned rollercoaster, I'm so glad that the top star for the anniversary was someone who has not spent a day outside of Yukigumi in her sienne life, who I've been watching since before my first trip to Japan. And I think the joy of it really showed on her. Aya was an angel, so visually perfect in her snow queen dress that I believed she was destined to be top musumeyaku of Yukigumi from birth. Aasa continued to out-Aasa herself; the wave of feral energy she set off during the first livestream was well earned.

But... remember the disembodied arm just off the TV screen? The utter SHOCK I experienced when they treated her like a friggin' nibante...

Nanami Hiroki, who pulled top star numbers and probably had double our last day crowd at her average Hoshigumi ochakai, and Miya Rurika, who needed a simulcast for her last ochakai, didn't even get the final revue treatment that Sora did.

The disbelief that they did so good by her, the disbelief that I missed the transition, the disbelief that she was really leaving, shattered me.

In addition to general prominence throughout the revue, she gets a whole white-clad taidan number, complete with lyrics designed to blind her fans with saltwater, and one of the best bits of dancing I've seen out of her. After a seemingly impossible quick change, she rejoins the troupe for a very chuuzume-esque anniversary number (assuming the Christmas kyakusekiori is the real chuuzume), and that might actually be my favorite bit of dancing in the whole show. She co-leads the Noguchi-signature boyband number with Aasa, which I forgive because it's them and it's also T.M. REVOLUTION. She even gets a spotlight moment alone with Saki during the kuroenbi. And through all of it, she was so, so good. Good does not even begin to describe Kazuki Sora.

I felt like I cried for 48 hours straight.

***

I didn't manage to get myself actually into the theater for senshuuraku, but I did end up with two Hibiya cinema tickets. When I tried to pass one off onto one of the fellow jilted Sora Club members trying her luck outside of Chanter, I got pounced on by an old lady while those in their white wear were moaning about the cinema not being good enough. I was too tired and nervous to tell her I'd prefer to sit next to someone in club, so she got it. She and I ended up crying the hardest of everyone in the cinema by far. Thanks, old lady <3.

***

One thing that struck me was how desperately, frightfully grateful I was that Sora retired from Yukigumi. Sure, if she hadn't, her taidan would have probably just been canceled... but I don't even mean that. The anniversary aspect of Frozen Holiday was beautiful, and filled me with a joy and nostalgia I wasn't prepared for. It was my first kyakusekiori since 2019, and after Sora ran by me, I was blessed to find myself next to Kujou Asu, someone I adore enough to be in her club in an alternate universe. It was my first iride since 2019, and I had the privilege of seeing off one of my favorite musumeyaku, Sara Anna, as well. The way the troupe members talked about Sora, and what she gave them, and how thrilled they were that she joined them, made my heart swell. As genuinely mad as I was when they broke up KikiSora, I could see that Yukigumi gave her the space to blossom.

The farewell dinner was even entirely gluten free by complete accident, down to the fancy manju omiyage with mountain yam flour dough.

***

Five onsen dips, a massive weeb shopping spree a lifetime in the making, and one extremely bizarre Komu show later, I'm on the plane home, finally not crying on command.

But not having a runaway fave for the first time in ten years feels really desolate. I miss her so much.

#takarazuka #reviews #Boiled Doyle on the toil trail #Kazuki Sora #taidan 24

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