#I’m shocked because I checked the canvas

[luneariann]

And it’s done! :)!!

[talewrites]

Fragile Part 8

Sorry for the long wait! This is a shorter chapter, because I’m making a poll!! :] Please go vote how you would like this story to end!!

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, blood, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

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The brothers burst into the lair. They rushed past Splinter and April, who gasped when she saw you. You hung limply in Raphael’s arms. They quickly took you straight to the lab, where Raphael gingerly laid you down on the large table underneath bright lights. Donnie slid on his goggles and checked you, and cursed under his breath.

“Shit. Their blood pressure is extremely low.” He rifled through drawers and cabinets, grabbing various bottles and tools. Donnie filled a syringe with a clear fluid from a small glass bottle and brought it over to you. “Stockman took a lot of their blood. And if I’m not mistaken, they were fed a variation of barbiturates through the second IV in their back.”

“What does that do?” Leo placed his hands on the table at your side, looking across as Donnie rolled your broken arm facing up so he could slide in the needle and administer the injection. April, Splinter, and Mikey all waited by the door.

“Well, it has a highly sedative effect in large doses. That, and combined with the chemical soup that filled their tank, ….they’re starting to slip into an artificial coma.”

All eyes in the room went wide with shock. Raph turned away from the table and stormed over to the wall and punched the brick. Hard.

“And what do we gotta do to stop it?!” He said gritting his teeth.

Mikey rushed over to your side past Leo and picked up your hand, pleading with you.

“Come on babycakes! Snap out of it! We still gotta make fudge brownies together!!”

Leo placed a comforting hand on his little brother’s shoulder.

“Donnie?” Leo asked.

Donnie rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. “There’s not much I can do until I fully assess their injuries. I just administered some pain killers. They’re not strong enough to handle stimulants right now. Administering adrenaline like April did with us will only make their injuries worse.”

Everyone looked solemn. Leo was looking down thinking back to the lab where they found you. Trying to figure out if there was anything they missed. That’s when he noticed a purple splotch peeking out from underneath your shirt. He narrowed his eyes and reached out to touch you.

“Leo, what-?” Donnie swallowed his words as Leo lifted up your shirt marginally, and the blackened canvas of purple and blue skin was revealed decorating your stomach.

Leo let your shirt slip from his finger and his hand fell to his side, tightening his fist. His hands trembled with rage.

They all did.

“Bebop and Rocksteady….” Mikey said lowly. His expression hard and serious.

“Those bastards-” Raph was standing by the head of the table. Looking down and clenched his fists.

Donnie’s eyes looked far away as he reached out and hesitated to touch you.

“This is…. really bad.” Donnie’s hand trembled as he traced your stomach, pressing down in certain spots to feel the damage. Even while sedated with drugs and heavy pain killers you still winced at the probing.

“Three, no- Four broken ribs. Damage to the liver, spleen, and small intestine.”

Mikey turned and left the room silently at hearing Donnie’s report. April followed after him to comfort him. Splinter was standing in the doorway with a heavy frown.

Leo swallowed his anger and looked up at Donnie.

“How do we treat them.”

Donnie turned away.

“They need a blood transfusion.”

“But that’s-!” Raph cut in.

“I know. That’s why I’ll ask April and Casey to test their blood first. But most likely-“

“It’ll be from one of us.” Leo finished for him.

Raph looked between the two and stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

“No, I will. It’s my turn to step up.” Leo looked from Raph to Donnie and nodded his head, then walked out of the room. April passed him by as she walked over to Donnie. She asked him what materials they needed her to pick up from their connection at the hospital, and Donnie started writing her a list. Raphael was assigned to go with her for protection and heavy lifting in case the Foot were out looking for them, and Mikey was sent to go meet up with Casey and bring him back to the lair after his meeting with the NYPD supervisor.

No less than 30 minutes later, Donnie had your forearm and ankle in casts, and two ice packs covering your stomach. Mikey had brought a clean pillow from his room to slide under your head. It was confirmed after some testing that Casey and April’s blood were not compatible with the mutagen in your bloodstream. You needed mutant blood to stabilize the transfusion.

You needed their blood to save your life.

Donnie was rushing to get the IV set up. By now you were breathing hard with a slight fever, skin cool to the touch despite the heavy blankets they covered you with.

“If we wait any longer there’s a chance they’ll go into shock!” Donnie said as he wiped down your arm with an alcohol wipe.

“And you said that our mutagen will help them, right?” Leo confirmed, sitting at your bedside with the other half of the IV already set up.

“I said it will give them a boost to heal faster, but we don’t know if it will destabilize their mutation or not. We have a higher concentration of mutagen in our blood than they do. If their antibodies can’t handle the shift, they could end up overwhelmed and mutate like Stockman did.”

“So there’s a risk they’ll end up like us?!” Raph protested. He was worried.

“But their body will reject the human blood because of their mutated antibodies, like you guys. We don’t have any other options.” Casey reasoned with him.

“I don’t want (y/n) to die. I’d rather they live and hate us than die when we could’ve saved them.” Mikey said sadly from the table he was sitting on at the other side of the lab.

“They’ll understand, Mikey. Don’t worry, we’re all here for them.” Assured April.

“We must have hope. Their safe recovery is what is most important.” Splinter said in contemplation.

“It’s a risk we have to take.” Donnie affirmed. He locked eyes with each of his brothers, Splinter, April, and Casey, and once he got nods of approval from everyone, he inserted your IV.

“Now, we wait.”

Part 9 [End]

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[sxgarworld]

Painter’s Hand

Order Contains: In which Choso Kamo is one of your peers in your college art course. He comes over to study you painting, but it seems his infatuated with more than just your technique.

With a side of: Biting, whimpering, soft!dom needy Choso bc im a slut for whimpering men

Calorie Count: 1.8k words

As you were packing up your supplies, and taking your dried canvas and placing it in its separate bag, you hear thick soles of someone’s shoes walk up behind you. You turn, a little shocked, to see one of your classmates standing there eagerly.

It was your classmate, Choso. You knew him because during critique, he had nothing bad to say about your art. He didn’t say much though, he always looked tired and in his own world. It didn’t help that he always had big, clunky headphones on.

“Choso! Can I help you with something?” you said, scolding yourself silently for sounding so formal. You realized you were nervous, why did he make you nervous?

“Y/N, this might be a weird question but,” he paused, fiddling with his hair that was pulled into a ponytail, “I was wondering if, you know, one day you’d let me see you paint? Just us two? I love your art and I’d love to see your technique,” he asks. His compliments made you go red. Ever since you could remember, you could never take a compliment like a normal person. Quickly, you got giddy and smiled at him.

“Of course! Here, give me your phone number and I’ll text you my dorm number and when I’m free,” you smile, taking out your phone and allowing him to put in his contact. He gently takes the phone, and you can’t help but notice how his slender, long fingers are slightly spotted with blue and white paints. He hands your phone back to you.

“Well, I’ve got another class across campus in thirty minutes. But I’ll see you later?” He asks, hopeful. You nod. He walks out with his painting (which still looked wet) and his bag. His Doc Martens clunk against the ground as he leaves.

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It’s around 8pm, you’re sitting in your dorm room, swiping through textbook pages, careful to not get a paper-cut. You texted Choso a while back, and he said he was coming, but never specified when. After a while you got distracted, forgetting about having a guest, until you heard a knock at your door.

It made you drop your highlighter in shock. You quickly got up to look in the mirror to make sure you looked presentable. No crumbs on your shirt or clumpy mascara. After checking, you went to go see who was at the door. Staring through your peephole, you saw Choso, this time with his hair tied up into two buns on the sides of his head. How cute!

“Chosoooo,” you smiled, opening the door, “come in! I was about to finish that painting from class today.” He nodded, eyes taking in your dorm. You were artsy, and your dorm reflected that strongly. The interior design was so fun to look at.

“Did you decorate yourself?” he asked, running a hand along a velvet blanket thrown neatly on your couch. It was so soft, everything inside the dorm felt so comfortable. Like a home more than just a dorm.

“Oh! Yeah I did, took a little inspiration from people online, though.” You saw as he walked around, like he was lost in admiration. His normally tired eyes were still tired, but less dead. Like a fish!

“It’s beautiful,” he admired, looking directly at you. Again, your face went red from the praise. It was his voice, too, so deep and raspy, throwing around compliments like this. You couldn’t help but react this way.

“Thank you! Do you wanna.. um, come see me paint now? Or like we could do anything to be honest, I don’t mind,” you stammered. Of course he didn’t want to do anything else, why would he? He just came to see you paint, because he liked your technique.

“Oh painting, yeah we could. I’d love to see you in action,” he said, starting to get close to you. An electric shock was sent down your spine. His words were almost hypnotic. You made your way into your bedroom, pulling out your canvas and placing it on your easel, your pallet already full of paint from earlier. It was a little dried out, but it didn’t matter. It was good enough.

You dipped your brush in the red, and lightly swiped it across your canvas. For you, you watered down your paints a bit. It took away the vibrance but it added a very soft, subtle look. The way you blending was a bit odd too, blending with a brush then a bit more with your fingers.

As you painted, you could feel Choso’s breath down your neck. He was standing right behind you, so close. His hands rested on your easel, meaning you were trapped between him and the easel. It almost made you shake a little bit, which he thought was just another part of your technique.

“You’re real good at this, yknow?” he whispered, his words hitting your ear breathily. It made your entire body heat up. His deep voice right into your ear, praising you as you worked. It made you melt against him, back pressed to his chest.

“Don’t shake too much, sugar, I’d hate it if you ruined this pretty painting,” he said, grabbing your shaking hand as you dipped your brush back into your paint. What’d he just call you? Sugar? It was difficult to keep your composure now, with him sweet talking you.

“I’m not gonna ruin it,” you said quietly, almost to yourself. He let out a soft chuckle, his hands now resting on your waist. God you hoped he couldn’t feel how hot and nervous you were. You were glad he definitely couldn’t feel how wet you were.

“I bet you won’t sweetheart,” he said, taking his hand and grabbing your jaw. He softly forced you to look up at him. “You’re just so good at this, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t hold yourself together, it was starting to be too much. Did he come here to watch you work, or did he have ulterior motives? You could tell, his dead eyes were almost cloudy as he looked at you. Clouded with what? Lust? He didn’t break eye contact with you.

You turned, so your chest was facing his chest, and you grabbed the collar of his shirt. For a second you hesitated, wondering if you should question him or not. But something inside of you pressed yourself against him, pulling him closer and softly pressing your lips against his.

“God, I’ve wanted you for months. You’re so reserved, I needed a good reason to finally see you, to have you like this.” His eyes glossed over you, your hot body and your red face. He kissed you again, this time on your neck. You gripped onto his t-shirt, a bit rougher than you expected. He kept planting kisses on your neck and your collar bone, making you shake.

“Please, Choso,” you whined. He didn’t even need to ask you what you wanted. He lifted you up, his arms were so strong, and tossed you onto your bed. He pressed you down into the mattress, crawling on top of you and kissing you more.

“Please what baby?” he teased, knowing exactly what you wanted. You looked at him with pleading eyes as he kissed you over and over again, the kisses starting to become sloppier and wetter. He didn’t even bother to let you finish begging, he couldn’t help himself around you. Slowly he slipped off your jeans, and with it, your panties. For a minute he just sat and kissed you, letting you grind against his strong thighs.

But it was too much for him, he couldn’t just sit and tease you like this for long. He whined, tugging at shirt.

“Nu uh, that’s not fair,” you frowned “All your clothes are still on.” He looked at you with wide eyes, then taking all of his clothes off, kicking his pants off the side of your bed. You couldn’t help but look at him. Underneath his baggy clothes, you thought he’d be skinny and scrawny. He was… glorious. His body was chiseled and defined, which was odd for a fine arts major. You immediately sat on his lap, pulling off your shirt and bra.

He bit at your neck, sucking and leaving the tiniest purple marks up and down the side. He bit down a bit harder than before, leaving a full red circle with indents for each of his teeth in your neck. The sudden pain made you whimper, your nails digging into his back.

“Please, let me—“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence, he was too hot and bothered. His cock pressed against your folds, his angry pink tip leaking precum all over his own thighs. “I need it, I need you s’bad.”

You let out a soft laugh, nodding your head. He took that as a resounding yes. He couldn’t help but push his tip into you, no teasing from his fingers to loosen you up. He let out the most gutural, pathetic moan you’ve ever heard. As he thrust in sloppily, he let out whines and whimpers, as if it were too much for him to handle.

“It- agh-! You’re so tight, baby,” he whimpered, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He suddenly grabbed your hips, forcing you to bounce up and down on his cock. You slammed yourself down on it, feeling his tip brush against the entrance to your womb. The feeling made you throw your head back and moan. He let out more pathetic sounds of struggle and pleasure. You could feel him wetting your neck up with… tears?

“It’s too fuckin’ good!” he cried out, fucking you hard. Suddenly he threw you back onto the bed, your head hitting your pillow. He pinned your hands to the headboard. His eyebrows furrowed as he plowed into you desperately, his pace speeding up.

“Choso- haah—“ you panted out, tongue barely escaping your mouth, as his pace suddenly became sloppy. He gripped your hips tighter, pressing bruises into your skin.

“Fuck I’m gonna— I’m— I’m gonna cum!” he said, barely even finishing his sentence before you felt his seed splattering inside your walls, your own juices coating his dick as you finished. He spasmed, leaning his head into the crook of your neck as he let a few last spurts shoot out of his cock. “So- so good baby. You feel so good.” He whimpered out, gulping as he did.

You ran a hand through his hair, almost pulling out another whine from him at the affection caress.

“You’re so pretty baby, such a pretty girl,” he whispered, his hands loosening its grip on your hips, and instead letting his arms wrap around you softly. “Such a pretty girl, yeah? You’re beautiful,” he muttered, kissing along your forehead.

My pretty girl.

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likes and reblogs are appreciated! <3 Please dont repost

[kumabeom]

anti romantic - choi yeonjun smau

prologue : i don’t believe in being romantic

synopsis : anti romantic, college student choi yeonjun who thinks he’s seen everything in a relationship, promising himself that he won’t go through another relationship ever again to prevent himself from going through another heartbreak. that was until he sees yn, a classmate, chasing his heart. will his walls be enough to scare yn away, or will they continue chasing yeonjun with all they have ?

slightly suggestive, themes of cheating, swearing, sad jjunie :((

the sky was painted black, it was like a canvas, a black background with little flicks of white paint, the half moon adding diversity into the plain sky. yeonjun’s tears drying from the slight cold, december breeze, his breath appearing right in front of him. the tip of his nose turning red, just how many times was he going to go through an absolute heartbreak. he didn’t want to go through it again, the pain in his chest, the hoarseness in his throat that he felt after breaking down. he hated it. why ? why was this happening to him ? he just wanted to live happily with the person he adored the most, was that too much to ask for

“oh, hyung, why are you crying ?” yeonjun turned his torso around, the metal bench that he was sitting on only sent more shivers down his spine. the small jacket that he had on was not doing enough to protect him from the cold, he couldn’t blame the jacket, but he could blame himself. although it was just the closest jacket he had at the moment. he could still see the scene as if it was still happening in front of him.

“oh love, i’m here..” yeonjun yelled out, throwing his jacket to the side, tilting his head side to side as an attempt to crack his neck, his hand coming up to his shoulder, massaging the skin. he couldn’t wait to lay in bed with yoojung, they had been seeing each other for nearly a year.

yeonjun couldn’t help but feel a bit iffy about the fact that he hadn’t received a response back from yoojung, she nearly always was awake at the time that he got back from his dance lessons, where he actually taught kids in the city to dance, he volunteered to do it, he just loved seeing kids doing something that they enjoyed to do.

his feet led him to the bedroom, checking to see if yoojung was still awake. although he regretted his actions as soon as he opened the door, spotting his girlfriend under the covers with another man, his lips pressed against hers, the sheets covering their bodies. yeonjun couldn’t help but feel his breath quicken. he wasn’t sure what to do, was he meant to quietly leave and just breakup with yoojung the following day, or is he meant to breakup with her on the spot. but he didn’t have the time to be thinking about that, his mind just did what he thought was an appropriate reaction.

“what the fuck, yoojung !” he yelled, brows furrowed, yoojung’s head turned towards yeonjun, in absolute shock that she’d been caught. she had done her best to keep all of it secretive, she thought that yeonjun was going to get home later than usual.

“junnie, it’s not- i’m not.. its not what it looks like, i promise.”

yeonjun turned his back, grabbing his jacket, “oh so what is it- hmm ? is it all just a huge misunderstanding that i caught you kissing another man ?”

“jun, please-“ yoojung, got up from the bed, buttoning her dress shirt as quick as she could. “it really isn’t what you think it is..”

“i don’t care what that was, yoojung, we’re over..” yeonjun spoke. he felt himself on the edge of a breakdown, trying to keep himself looking stable until he made it a safe distance away from yoojung’s apartment.

and now he was here, facing huening kai, the two of them now sitting on the metal bench. huening kai listening to each and every word that his hyung told him, explaining the situation to huening. yeonjun hated ranting to huening kai, because it made him feel like he was destroying the younger’s outlook on love and relationships. kai, however, didn’t really mind, he just wanted to give his hyung a shoulder to cry on. he knew how much yeonjun’s relationships had failed ever since he was in high school, and he just wanted the best for his hyung. and with yeonjun’s final year of college coming to an end, with only a semester left, he truly wished he found the right person at college- however yeonjun seemed to have different plans.

“i think i give up on love- i don’t believe in romance. i don’t believe in being romantic.”

©️kumabeom

remember that all of this is completely fictional and it doesn’t actually portray any of the idols/people used in the smau ☺️☺️

masterlist : chapter 1 , chapter 2 , chapter 3 , chapter 4 , chapter 5 , chapter 6 , chapter 7 , chapter 8 , chapter 9 , chapter 10 , chapter 11 , chapter 12 , chapter 13 , chapter 14 , chapter 15 , chapter 16 , chapter 17 , chapter 18 , chapter 19 , chapter 20 , chapter 21 , chapter 22 , chapter 23

finale : bloom like pretty flowers on a warm spring

profiles : cyj and yn , besties !!

official release date : aug 25 !!

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taglist : @soobadooba @beoms-sugar @yxnjvnnie @myahfig4 @sato-chan-2709 @grayscorner @run2seob @destairea @lol6sposts @cutesince2000 @forever-in-the-sky2 @soobs-things @soobinsman @mackjestic @ameliabs-world @mochijjunie @hyuneyeon @flwerfield @jesssssmaybankk @moa4lifeee @theblueslytherin @k1t0

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[idontknowreallywhy]

1 - Presence

I’m pretty sure that the more determined I am to sit and write something fluffy in a spare moment, the more angsty it comes out. This morning I was going to write some nice earth and sky but smashed the Virg instead…

And so we have some Virgil post Scott’s going MIA because that’s clearly where the fluff lies. It’s a slightly weird idea and I maybe have fallen off the mixed metaphor cliffedge here, but sensory stuff fascinates me so…

Err… I’m sorry?

In mitigation I might have an idea for a follow up scene when Scott is finally back…

(Not well proofed, thrown down in a coffee break)

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

It was an unexpected thing that finally broke Virgil:

The smell of washing powder.

An odour none of them ever noticed, because it was everywhere. A background chord running through all the linen in the place, over which all the other scents of the household were layered like a complex symphony. Until some of those more discordant scents became too loud and overpowering at which point the item was laundered, and a new score was opened beginning only with that familiar chord as a canvas.

By unspoken agreement, his room remained as he’d left it. Perhaps none of them had truly accepted he wouldn’t return to fill it with life again. Perhaps it just wasn’t necessary to thrust the knives of practicality into that particular wound yet… they weren’t short of space at the ranch.

Virgil would visit, once or twice a week, usually late at night when the effort of holding everything and everyone together had drained the last drop of his resolve and he needed to renew his vow to his big brother.

It required preparation though. He would shower, thoroughly, using a fragrance free soap he had ordered especially. Only when he was positive that all traces of his own cologne, hair products, coffee, his own smell were washed away would he open the door. He didn’t want to add anything to the faint music that persisted inside.

The bed had only been slept in three nights, on that brief visit home before he was deployed for the last time and so nobody had thought it worth stripping the sheets and laundering them. There was a light gloss of super-shiny gel on the pillow and the quiet but unmistakeable melody of his brother lingered.

The blue fluffy dressing gown on the back of the door had been worn longer and played the more powerful tune of his cologne, with a harmony of pancake batter, coffee and, on one cuff, a hint of whisky from the evening he and Virgil had sat on the back porch exchanging dad jokes and Scott had laughed so hard he’d sloshed his drink all over his hand.

He would check everyone else was asleep, then slip to his brother’s door, enter quietly and reverently remove the robe from its hook to wrap around his shoulders, lifting the outsized hood to cover his head. The intense familiarity was always a shock and so he’d stand there for a moment, surrounded by his brother’s song to catch his breath. Then, slowly he would kneel by the side of the bed, his face resting on the edge of the pillow and he would rest for a while and imagine his big brother’s arms around him. He could almost feel Scott’s forehead pressed against his own, or maybe his cheek resting on the top of his head. He’d promise again that he would look after the others. He’d be big brother as long as he had strength left in his body. And somehow, some strength would return. He’d made it through nearly three months now. He could keep going. He could do it for Scott.

He couldn’t linger there for too long. He couldn’t fall asleep here, couldn’t risk a sweaty nightmare eradicating all he had left.

He’d replace the robe and close the door, sneak back down the hallway and return to his own room. Then, and only then, could he allow the tears to fall.

One night he missed a step.

He didn’t check on the others. Maybe he also messed up the stealth part as he was jolted out of his bedside reverie by his youngest brother’s gasp:

“Scotty??!!”

He spun to face the doorway and was able to see Alan’s heart break all over again as the wrong brother looked out from under the hood.

That had been a long night. He’d done his best to explain what he’d been doing and held back his tears as he confessed he didn’t think Scott would come back as a ghost to visit them. He held the devastated child as they both wept and lay awake until the birds signalled another day to survive through was moments away from dawning.

He’d thought little more of it until one evening, well after the kid’s bedtime, Alan burst into the kitchen in a terrible panic and seized grandma by the hand, dragging her upstairs. Curious, Virgil followed and paused at the top of the stairs as he heard Grandma’s low comforting voice interspersed with hiccuppy sobs. They were coming from Scott’s room.

Virgil peered around the half open door to see his grandmother and brother crouched together on the floor, Alan clutching his empty hot chocolate mug and sobbing his heart out. He caught grandma’s eye and she indicated with a look that she had things under control. She’d handle this. He wasn’t needed this time. Virgil nodded and was about to back out when his gaze fell on the bed. And Scott’s robe in a heap by the pillows. And the marshmallows on that robe, surrounded by a spreading brown stain.

Virgil lied and said he had a migraine the following day. He shouldn’t be angry with an 8 year old for wanting to drink his bedtime cocoa with the ghost of his big brother. But he was. Because he, Virgil, was a terrible big brother. Scott wouldn’t have been angry. He’d have laughed and said it was cute and ruffled Allie’s hair and that was why Scott should still be here and Virgil couldn’t do this. They left his food outside the door, with a little get well soon card drawn in a rare fit of cooperation by Gordon and Alan. Alan had surrounded his name in hearts and kisses. He didn’t deserve it.

Late that night, after his usual shower he crept back along the corridor to Scott’s room, quietly opened the door and shut himself inside. Grandma had, indeed, handled it. The bed was neatly made again with freshly laundered sheets and the robe was hung back on its hook, fluffier than ever from the dryer. A new score was opened, only the starting chord could be heard.

Virgil took a deep breath in through his nose and tears filled his eyes.

He was gone.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

(Ok I do need to TBC it as I can’t leave him like that… I’ll fix it I promise)

update: Part 2 “Absence” is here

[futureslaps]

The Captive - Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Hi everyone! This fanfic was inspired by “Bars” by Naavispider and the associated prompt. Please give it a read! Check it out here. Another huge thanks to Naavispider for taking a look at this before I posted it. I’m new on this site, so It means a lot! 💙

Summary: Neytiri grabs Spider before Quaritch can think to hold Kiri hostage. Forced to surrender, he is taken to Awa’atlu. The Sullys are happy their enemy is defeated, but for Spider, things are more complicated than ever before...

P.S.: Neteyam is alive in this because there’s no way Neytiri would accept Quaritch’s surrender if he killed her son. 

Quaritch felt the pain before he opened his eyes. A dull throbbing on the rear of his head had appeared the moment he came to. He let out a small groan as he turned himself onto his back on the mud.

Wait, mud?

His eyes shot open to see a canvas roof above him. Where the hell was he?

He moved to sit up, wincing at the pain as several more injuries made themselves known. He surveyed his surroundings. It was some kind of hut. A Na’vi hut, no doubt. A tree stood in the center, supporting the thick canvas around him. It would have been almost charming, were it not for the thick wooden bars dividing the small building in two.

Bars clearly to meant to hold him in.

Memories of the previous day slowly came back to him. The appearance of Sully, the battle with the Na’vi, the Sully kids boarding to rescue Spider…

Shit, Spider

His mind quickly forgot about the rest of the battle as he recalled the confrontation with Sully and his psychotic wife. He’d never considered himself capable of surrendering, much less to his sworn enemy. He’d have fought with his bare hands if it came down to it.

But the image of his son under the knife of Sully’s woman, hatred in her eyes, had been seared into his mind.

It had caught him off guard. Spider had never tried to hide his admiration for his so-called family. He always made sure to let Quaritch know who had taught him one skill or another, and how they were infinitely better at doing it than Quaritch was. He didn’t often talk about the Sullys directly, but when he did, he’d never had a bad thing to say. The thought of his enemies using their own supposed child against him had never crossed his mind.

He had quickly thrown down his weapons and raised his hands, his mind filled with a mixture of shock, rage, and fear. He had tried to goad Sully to kill him, and then…

He guessed the throbbing on the back of his head explained why he couldn’t remember anything else.

His mind went back to Spider. The last time he had seen him, he still had a knife to his heart. Was he even, okay? Was he tied up in some prison shack like he was? He’d be damned if he let them keep his son caged like an animal…

Quaritch tried to ignore his throbbing injuries and started to get up but flopped onto his chest as he tried to move a foot under him. The various cuts and bruises on his body screamed at him, and he let out an involuntary growl.

He looked down at his legs for the first time. A thick length of rope-like material looped around his ankles, then stretched to one of the branches holding the roof of the hut. He could probably take apart the knot, but it was out of his reach, especially seeing as he couldn’t even stand properly.

He resorted to using his arms to pull himself across the dirt floor. His bindings allowed him to drag himself up to the bars, but no further. He prodded the wooden posts. They were old and weathered, but thick and stood firm in the ground.

He turned back and tested the binds. The material was primitive but strong, and he was in no condition to start trying to pull them apart.

He was stuck.

He pulled himself against the supporting tree and sat back.

Why was he even alive? Sully had been ready to kill him on the Sea Dragon.

Was he being toyed with?

Was spider safe?

He sighed as he leaned against the rough bark of the tree, listening to the ocean somewhere in the distance.

What the hell was he going to do now?

(…)

It had been nearly a day since they had returned from the battle, but Jake couldn’t help but stare warily at the makeshift prison on the edge of the village.

He was in there.

The man who had come back from the dead to kill him. The man who had held a gun to his children’s heads.  The man whose orders had put his son in a coma from which he may never wake.

Jake let out a low growl as he thought about Neteyam again. He was lucky to even be alive, one of the bullets had missed an artery by a hair’s width.

But he had still taken three rounds from a rifle. He had been on the cusp of death when they had returned to Awa’atlu, and only Ronal’s care had kept him from joining Eywa as Jake had made a desperate call to Norm. Three bullet extractions, countless stitches, and a blood transfusion later, Neteyam had finally been stabilized, but he remained unconscious and weak. Norm said he was hopeful, but it was painfully obvious he was holding off on saying things would be okay.

He hated the pain he felt, and the pain he knew his family was feeling.

And Colonel Miles Quaritch was right fucking there, beaten, and bound, at his mercy. Jake considered the possibility in his mind; it wouldn’t be too hard to…

“You should go to your family, Toruk Makto.” Jake heard Tonowari’s deep voice behind him.

“I know, I’m just… making sure he is secured.” Jake responded, still eying the prison.

“His confines are meant for animals much stronger than any Na’vi is, and the warriors guarding him are strong themselves.” Tonowari responded, moving closer. “You have my assurance he poses no danger.”

“He still shouldn’t be here. No matter where he is, or how he is, he is a danger to my family. We shouldn’t have spared him.”

“He surrendered, he asked Eywa’s mercy.” Tonowari responded sternly. “You know the implications as well as I do.”

“Mercy? Quaritch doesn’t ask for mercy!” Jake spat. “He’d probably kill himself with his own knife if he still had it! On the ship he demanded that I…”

“Do not let your hatred control you, Toruk Makto.” Tonowari responded, calmly, but seriously. “He will face judgement as Eywa commands. He will face a warrior’s trial, not be put down like a beast.”

Jake looked down and sighed. As much as he hated it, Tonowari was right. When Quaritch had thrown down his weapon and raised his hands, he had technically surrendered, and Eywa forbid the killing of a surrendered warrior. Tonowari had been sure to remind him after he knocked Quaritch out with the butt of his spear.

Neytiri holding Spider hostage had shocked Jake, but he still hadn’t expected Quaritch to surrender. He had drawn his own knife and braced himself when he saw the demon’s knife clatter to the floor.

The bastard hadn’t even known what he was doing. He’d asked Jake to kill him as the Metkayina approached, and Jake would have been happy to oblige if it weren’t for Tonowari’s presence.

He had no desire to show Quaritch the respect meant for a true Na’vi warrior, but he respected the Laws of Eywa, and he respected Tonowari.

“Go to your family.” Tonowari repeated. “Do not spend your day obsessing over this demon.”

Jake knew he was right. Quaritch wasn’t going anywhere at the moment, and his family needed him. He took one more look at the hut, then turned and started walking back toward the infirmary.

Two weeks until Quaritch’s trial

Two weeks until he finally ends this

---

I have a general idea of where I want to take this, but nothing is set in stone. Please let me know what you think! Planning a new chapter every few days. 

[imaginespazzi]

i love reading all the like recaps u get sooo i wanted to do one! apologizing now for the lack of grammar check..

- stop baby pazzi ☹️☹️

- “Not when she’s learnt just how warm Azzi’s presence can be and how everything else pales in comparison.”

- paige’s little panic abt what to say to azzi then when azzi threatens to hang up is so adorable. i lovetheir smiles and slight blushes they’re too busy stressing over themselves to notice the other having the same reaction. it feels so real and like such a crush moment.

- and paige being scared she was making stuff up and needing the validation of “i miss you too” was kinda sad but also so sweet at how she melts whenever azzi talks to her.

- “Paige realizes that her favorite thing about Azzi’s smile isn’t when her dimples show or when her eyes twinkle, it’s when it’s there because of Paige, when it’s there just for Paige.” OH SO U WANT ME TO CRY THEN DIE OK I SEE HOW IT IS

- paige skipping the party to keep talking to azzi on the phone 😭😭 so adorable

- THE LETTER these gays i love them

- ice and paige’s friendship means so much to me

- paige thinking abt Stephie and being excited to see her is so cute

- kk and ice not even betting on it is harming my soul im so excited for more flashbacks around their fallout

- jana being the fav child getting to have her parents back together 💁‍♀️💁‍♀️ and paige playing along saying they didn’t have favorites 😢😢 YOUR HONOR GIVE ALL THEIR KIDS THEIR PARENTS BACK PLEASE

- paige face just melting at the thought of Stephie🤧❤️‍🔥 yeah ice is abt to herself dome MONNNEYY

- Olivia Reynolds with the Dallas Morning News and her sugary sweet smile seems like a cunt and her annoying questions invasion of privacy much

- “that wasn’t a reporter out there, that was my ex-wife grilling me like we were back in fucking divorce court.” OH DHIT DAMN I FEEL DUMB I DIDNT SEE TJAY COMINNH

- hmm well seems like there were def some issues with that marriage and im probs being unfair because i love azzi sm but i am not a fan of miss olivia and i stan by my previous statement abt her 😛

- STWAAPP Stephie calling paige 🥹🥹

- paige yet again not able to keep her mind cordial seeing azzi as if she’s not on the with stephie PACK IT UP BLONDIE 🙄🙄

- , “I am not letting you corrupt my daughter Paige Bueckers.” i fear she already has.

- azzi talking to ice AND GETTING ALL PROTECTIVE OVER PAIGE 🤩🤩

- “I’ve always cared Paige. And-” she hesitates as the tightrope beneath them wavers, “I’m always gonna care.” please just kill me now it would be easier than having to wait for the next chapter.

- ALSSOO u are a evil genius for making paige miss ANOTHER party to talk to a fudd. they have paige wrapped around their fingers

- the matching fav ice cream and color 🥹🥹

- AZZI TSLKING ABT PAIGE TO KATIE I CSNT

- they miss each other so much my heart can’t take it

- not azzi putting paige to sleep 😭 paige dreaming abt them all being a little family i can’t.

for future chaptersss things in wondering and/or looking forward to—>

- does paige’s ex olivia play a big role in the story at all?

-i’m so scared of azzi and paige getting into a fight in the now i don’t think my heart can handle it but i feel like it’s like bound to happen yk

ANYYWAAYYSS

- as always your writing is perfect and im obsessed with u 🤩🤩🤩🤩

I'm so glad so many of y'all are leaving long reviews like y'all don't know much it helps with motivating me <3

I'm a big fetus Pazzi fan and I really like writing them in that era cause it's such blank canvas so trust there'll be more scenes from back then probably

I'm so glad y'all liked the letter cause I think that was my favorite little bit of this chapter

The kids have been traumatized and Pazzi really should probably have paid for their therapy considering

I love everyone's reactions to Olivia cause some people guessed it right away and some of y'all were genuinely shocked and both of those reactions are amusing to me. But I think the consensus is that nobody's a big fan of her lmao.

Y'all know me and my parallels, I just can't help myself and it just worked out really well because Paige is so atrociously down bad for her Fudd girls.

Mmmmm I wouldn't say Olivia plays a huge role in the story (as of right now) but she will appear again

Ah well babes unfortunately...it's just too fun to write them fighting mwahhaha

[starplanes]

Making an audio drama is hard. Crowdfunding is hard. Crowdfunding to make an audio drama? You guessed it. Hard. So let’s talk about how to avoid and manage burnout while doing it.

Now it’s important to note that I said avoiding AND managing. There’s a lot you can do to make crowdfunding easier on yourself, but no matter what, it’s going to be exhausting. You can’t entirely avoid the exhaustion, but you can make it happen less.

The first thing you should do when crowdfunding is research the space. What have similar crowdfunding campaigns done? What’s their goal, their perks, how are they promoting it? What gets engagement, and what gets ignored? You are about to market your podcast like it’s never been marketed before, asking people to not only listen but to fund it. You shouldn’t walk into that situation unaware.

You need to research campaigns so you know what works and what doesn’t, allowing you to focus your efforts on what has the biggest payoff. This will help you a lot in the long run! If you’re not sure where to start, search “audio drama crowdfunding” on google. The biggest mistake I see in audio drama campaign is creating a campaign, posting about it once on twitter, and then being shocked that it’s not getting support. 10 minutes of research would have helped them avoid this fate.

The biggest hurdle of crowdfunding is getting your campaign out there — the more people that see it, the more people that can support it. This means you need to have two things: (1) engaging text/visuals and (2) a social media presence. Audio drama can be rough to crowdfund because sharing audio is difficult. A picture is easy to see on a twitter feed or crowdfunding campaign page. Audio or video usually takes a few clicks, which prevents engagement Personally, when I’m on my phone, I never listen to videos with sound (and when I’m on my desktop, I rarely do). You need to cater to people like me. If the only media for your crowdfunding campaign is a trailer video, it’s not enough. There are people who won’t play it.

But! You can spend time before the campaign working on your engaging texts/visuals and your social media presence! If you’re funding a new show, create accounts on the platforms you want to post on well before the campaign. Got that already? Make posts teasing the show. Build up your audience. Scheduling social media posts is your friend. I spent the month before WWBH went live creating graphics on canva to post during the campaign, and then scheduled a twitter post each day.

In general, the best way to avoid crowdfunding burnout is by getting as much done as you can in advance. Write copy. Schedule social media tweets. Make templates for the milestones you want to hit. The less you have to do while the campaign is live, the lower your stress levels will be.

Another way to avoid burnout is a simple one: Ask for help! Crowdfunding is ultimately a numbers game. More eyes on the campaign mean a better chance of getting funded, so ask people to share it! Don’t just assume they will. And definitely don’t assume word will get around on it’s own. You should also make it easy for your cast and crew to share posts about the campaign. Directly give them the info they need to do it — don’t assume they’re keeping up with everything, folks are busy!

Be prepared to spend a lot of time working on and sharing the crowdfunding campaign while it’s live. If you can take a break from production while it’s happening, you should do that. Because if you’re doing it right, crowdfunding is exhausting. The way you manage burnout for it is the same way to manage it for any other exhausting task: take breaks! You don’t need to be online all the time. In fact, half the reason for doing so much in advance is to give yourself the ability to check out when you need to. Make plans to walk away from your computer, turn off your phone, and do something fun. Don’t sit there refreshing the page 24/7, it will drain the life out of you.

It’s also important to remember to celebrate the small milestones! 10% funded is something to be proud of. So is reaching 50 supporters. Be proud of yourself for every minor goal you reach, and it will take some of the stress off of hitting the “big goal.” Have fun with it where you can, too. Make silly posts. You’re not a big serious brand, you’re a person — and that’s great! Lean into it. You’re allowed to be human.

TL;DR — Avoid crowdfunding burnout by:

Researching similar campaigns and making a plan for your own

Doing as much in advance as you can

Asking for help sharing the campaign

Celebrating the small milestones and having fun

Remembering your worth is not tied to monetary gain

[princessmisery666]

Save Your Love - Part 3 - My Girl Mini Series

Summary: Bradley gets called back to Top Gun, and the dangers of the Dagger Mission make him realize his one true regret.

Warnings: fluff, angst, slow burn, break-up, argument. 

W/C: 2.8k

Characters: Bradley Bradshaw, OFC (Bailey) Small Parts/Mentioned: Nick and Carole Bradshaw, OMC (Sean). 

Pairing: platonic Bradley Bradshaw x OFC, OFC x OMC.

Notes: set before the events of Top Gun: Maverick

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own

Graphics: made by me on canva. Dividers: @writercole

Master Lists: My Girl - Series // Top Gun: Maverick // Main

Save Your Love

(Years later)

Knocking on Bailey’s door, every bone and muscle screams with exhaustion after almost fourteen hours of traveling - cab, plane, train, and another cab. I’m about dead on my feet, but when Bailey pulls the door open, the wind swishing her hair like some shampoo commercial and the watery smile she greets me with, every last drop of weariness falls away.

“Bradley,” she gasps, shocked, before launching herself at me. I don’t have time to drop my bag before I have to catch her, so I wrap my free arm around her and hold her close. I can feel the desperation in how she clings to me.

“Hey, baby girl,” I say into her hair as she buries her head in my shoulder.

“I missed you.” It’s all she manages to say before she breaks down, and cold tears dampen my shirt. I lift her and carry her into the apartment, kicking the door closed. Dropping my bag, I help her readjust; legs now wrapped around me. With how upset she is, I figure she hasn’t slept any more than me since we talked and head toward her bedroom.

The bed is littered with used tissues, a testament to my assumption. She’s probably been crying since we hung up the phone yesterday, which makes me angry.

Sean, the latest in her line of bad decisions, dumped her. I’ve met the guy three times. He seemed like an okay guy, but Bailey followed him around like he was some kind of god. He lifts her up only to knock her down and then stops calling. So clearly, he has a fucking screw loose to let this perfect woman go. She tried to hide it when we FaceTimed yesterday, but I could see her drowning, wanting to disappear. I want to do right by her, as she’s done for me, be her shoulder to cry on, dry her eyes, but it kills me every time I have to watch her fall apart over some asshole who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air. As hard as she tried to convince me, I knew she wasn’t fine. So I took some leave and continued moving until I reached her, and will stay until I know she’s okay.

I sit on the edge of the mattress, but she doesn’t let me go, so I have to awkwardly unravel her, pushing tissues onto the floor as I move us up the bed to lie down.

Here I am, in her bed again, but for all the wrong reasons. I stare at the ceiling as her tears wet my shirt, sobs wracking her shoulders. She feels so small, so fragile, like I’m the only thing keeping her from shattering. All I can do is hold her as tight as I dare without hurting her. I desperately wish I could wrap her up in cotton wool and never let her feel this pain again.

Pain that I feel partly responsible for causing. If I’d had the balls to kiss her when I had the chance, I’d be in her bed for the right reasons, and she sure as shit would not be crying over me. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I wouldn’t be here, and she’d be crying because of my absence.

God, I’ve missed her. We talk every day when I can, and I check in as much as I’m allowed when I’m on deployment. Bailey, being the amazing person she is, sends me a text every morning and the last thing at night, even if it’s an emoji. She comes to every family event the navy allows, but it’s been months since I’ve had her in my arms. My chest aches, and my throat goes dry because the thought of leaving her never gets easier, and I only have a few days. 

Stop! Be in the moment, idiot.

“What’s wrong with me, Bradley?” she sobs.

Anger rolls through me that she even asked the question. Smoothing down her hair and kissing her temple, I assure her, “Nothin’ darlin’. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

“So why does everyone always leave me?”

Cause we’re all dysfunctional, fucked up assholes? It’s not really an answer, but she’s not really asking.

“Cause they realize you’re too good for them, and they can’t handle it.” 

She sobs even harder, shaking her head as if she doesn’t believe me. It breaks my heart to see what this asshole has done to her. 

“Bailey, I’m serious,” I tell her sternly, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes. “You’re perfect. I’ve never met a better person than you. And we lesser creatures are terrified to try to make you happy and fail. So we sabotage everything.”

“You’re not a lesser creature,” she insists tearfully, her voice cracking.

“No, sweetheart, trust me. I’m not as good as you. I never have been,” I whisper. “I was just lucky you took pity on me and let me be your friend.”

She scoffs, “please; you were so popular at school. I was lucky to have you. Everyone hated me because you were my friend.”

Now I’m perplexed. How does she even think that? I swear this woman’s view of herself is so inaccurate and low it’s infuriating sometimes. “No one hated you. You were the prom queen.”

“Really, after all this time, you’re still gonna pretend you had nothing to do with that, Mr prom king?”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it.” I didn’t, except trying to rig the vote by putting a load of ballots in the voting box, but I got caught, and they were all removed. So our classmates genuinely voted for her. “I have seriously failed as a friend if you don’t know how amazing you truly are.”

“I do know it, sometimes,” she says meekly, “but I like hearing you say it.”

“Then I’m going to keep telling you till you believe it all the time!” I kiss the crown of her head, sealing my vow. 

We lie in silence for a while, and as I feel myself drifting off, Bailey whispers, “You wanna grab dinner?”

“Nope,” I say and tighten my grip on her. “I just wanna fall asleep with my more than amazing best friend, who deserves the fucking universe.”

She chuckles, pressing a kiss to my cheek before snuggling into me and getting comfortable.

Bailey is in the kitchen when I return from the coffee run. She seems surprised to see me, a look of mild shock in her eyes, “I thought you’d left.”

Why does everyone always leave me? Her question rings in my ears, and her watery smile breaks me a little. 

I kiss her head as I sit down at the table with her. “Went to get coffee. You always have the cheap shit.”

She takes the cup from me, pulling it to her nose, inhaling deeply and humming. 

“Bails,” I start, and immediately she’s intently staring at me, setting her coffee on the table.

She plays with the locket. It’s a nervous habit she seems to have picked up since I gave it to her. I’m not sure if she’s even aware of it, but she holds it when she wants comfort.

“You are leaving.”

“I got a call. I’m needed back at Miramar.”

“I need you here.”

“I know, I'm sorry.”

“I should be used to it by now,” she shrugs with a mirthless smile, “yet it still hurts every fucking time.”

“If I could stay, I would. It's my job,” I add weakly.

“You have to leave, I know.” She nods as if she understands, but I don’t believe her. 

It’s not anger she feels; disappointment is written in every aspect of her demeanor, downcast eyes, slumped shoulders, and labored breaths to keep from crying. I know she wants to be angry, to blame someone, but she knows it's futile. She’d never blame me, though I guess, technically, she should. I signed up for this. In order to serve my country, I have to let down the people I love. Time and time again. She supported me in every decision - was the one that encouraged me to follow this path - but neither of us knew the reality would be so devasting so often.

“It’s not like I asked for the assignment, Bails,” I sigh.

“It’s fine,” she says, but it's sharp and short. 

“Please, don’t be like that.”

“Like what? Am I not allowed to be sad that I have to say goodbye to you again? When you literally just got here?”

It’s killing me that I have to do this with her again, and I feel the need to explain. “It's a time-sensitive mission. Not like I can tell them no.”

She nods along but doesn’t say anything.

“Maybe I should stop coming if it’s too hard for you.” I regret it as soon as it’s in the air between us because I know she will misconstrue it. I don’t want to cause her unnecessary pain. She has enough on her plate without me piling on top.

“Maybe you should,” she snaps, abruptly standing up, toppling her chair. “Save yourself a wasted trip next time,” she throws over her shoulder as she marches out of the room.

There’s a knock on the door as I rise to follow her, hanging my head as she moves to answer it. I can’t see who it is from where I’m standing, but I hear him.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Sean pleads, “I hate it when we fight. Please forgive me.”

A sneer curls my lips, and I wait for a beat, praying that she’ll slam the door in his face, but when I step into the hallway, she’s hugging him.

Shock and anger roll through me. “Seriously!?”

Bailey turns to face me, a deep scowl creasing her brow, “Bradley, don’t.” 

“Don’t?” She squares her shoulders as I stride toward them. “I’ve spent the last six hours holding you as you cried over this asshole, and then it’s a simple ‘I’m sorry, baby’, and all is forgiven?”

“Hey, fuck you, man,” Sean pipes up, but I ignore him, glare locked with Bailey’s, waiting for an explanation.

When she remains silent, I snarl, “He’s bad for you, Bails. You have to see that. You deserve so much better.”

“And what? That’s you?” Sean scoffs as he takes a step toward me. Dumb move, man.

“Maybe, maybe not,” I shrug, “but it sure as shit ain’t you.”

He moves within arm’s reach, and I brace myself to dodge the punch, but he doesn’t have the balls. “What would you know? You don’t know me, and you don’t know us.”

Standing nose to nose, I growl, “I know enough, and I know her. I know you stifle her, shove her down, try to make her into something you think you want, and when she balks, you leave until she’s ready to try to be who you want her to be. But it’s never enough, is it?”

“Bradley,” she warns, wedging herself between us, but neither of us back down. “Sean, maybe you should leave. I’ll call you later.” 

“You’re seriously considering this?” I’m pissed now. We both know the number of times she’s called me crying over this asshole. Shame flashes in her eyes before she hangs her head.

She pushes on Sean’s shoulder, urging him away. “Sean, please.” 

“Don’t bother,” I say, shaking my head, and I know she can see how disappointed I am. I wait until she makes eye contact and then spit, “Definitely a wasted trip.” before I shove past Sean and out of the door. 

“Bradley,” she calls after me, but I don’t listen.

If I go back there, I’m gonna hit him and maybe say something that should not be said. The door opens as I reach the elevators, and an elderly couple steps out. I rush in, jabbing the ground floor button, turning in time to see her staring at me from where she stands in the middle of the corridor.

“Don’t call me when he fucks up again,” I say.

“Don’t leave like this, please,” she begs as the doors slide closed.

Two Weeks later.

It’s been years, and I still think about that night on my Bronco, the morning after in Bailey’s apartment. How different things could be now. Things were strained between us for a while. Until the first time I came home for the holidays, it was as if I’d never left.

I did leave, though. And every time I went back, it would leave her crushed when I left. My love for her is the one thing that time and distance haven’t changed. I love her the way my mom loved my dad. Mav’s told me the stories, theirs was a love that never dies, and I feel the same about Bailey. It’s a weight I carry with me everywhere I go. It holds me back from flying like Maverick. It makes me hesitate because I don’t want to leave her in the same tragic way my dad left my mom. 

I saw my mom’s grief. The tears she rarely tried to hide, every goddamn day. She never got over it; time made little difference. I couldn’t do that to Bailey. Every time I go on a mission, there’s a strong possibility I might not make it back.

Like tomorrow, tomorrow’s the dagger mission. The stakes are the highest they’ve ever been, and all I can think about is her. I should be focused. I should be studying the map of the terrain or sleeping. But all I can think about is her always being by my side. Even when I left her behind, she never complained or made me feel shitty for it. She never called me out on my shit for how I acted that night on the hood of my Bronco. She never asked for an explanation for my behavior the morning after. 

If tomorrow is my last day on earth, that’s my biggest regret - not spending my life telling Bailey how much I love her, making her see her true worth. I regret that I’ve never told her.

I can’t sleep. I know it's not fair of me, but I call her number. She won’t answer; the woman could sleep through a hurricane. 

“Hey, it’s me,” I tell her voicemail. “So…um, tomorrow I’ve got to do something, and I might not come back from it. So I just need to say something.” 

Fuck, this is insane, but I need her to know. I steel my nerves, take a breath and spew my emotions into her voicemail. 

“You’re worth more than you know. I’m sorry for the way I left, but you know Sean isn’t good for you.” The image of her crumpled and crying in her bed makes my jaw tick. “Fuck,” I blast out. “I wish there was someone worthy of you. I’m sure there is, but it ain’t him, and deep down, you know that.”

I hope she does anyway. I really do because if I don’t make it back tomorrow, there'll be no one else to tell her that.

“I hate watching you fall apart, and you’re grown enough to make your own decisions, but we all make mistakes. I wanna do right by you. Be a shoulder to cry on, dry your eyes, but it kills me to do it when it’s ‘cause of some asshole who doesn’t know how special you truly are. What I’m trying to say is, if I don’t make it back, please save your love for someone who's never gonna run, who loves you for the amazing person you are, not someone who wants to change you.”

“But if I do make it back…” My voice catches, and I have to clear my throat. I need to wrap this up before it cuts me off.

“The day I left... fuck before that... our road trip. I know it was leading to something more, something that would have been incredible. But I was so afraid of hurting you… leaving you. I couldn’t put you through that. You never pushed it, so I figured it was like you said, that we were just clinging to something to dull the sorrow of being apart. No. That's a lie. I… I knew you wanted more. I wanted more. I want more. 

Shit, this is all wrong. I’m not making sense. Sorry. I should have fought for us. I’ll always regret being too much of a coward to cross the line between us. We should have at least tried. Maybe we still can, but if the worst happens, I need to know that you know that I love you. And I don’t mean that in the BFF way we always say it. To be clear... Bailey, I’m in love with you.”

Part 4 - Words Unspoken

Master Lists: My Girl - Series // Top Gun: Maverick // Main

[sarah-in-disguise]

Hot Stuff

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Female Reader

Warnings: a few swear words, a small electrical shock, mentions of pregnancy, and a bunch of fluff!

Summary: As you try to start Sue and Reed’s baby quilt for their upcoming baby shower, your iron breaks.  What is a girl to do?

Word Count: 1810

A/N: After my iron called it quits last weekend, I did what any normal person would do: watch The Fantastic Four while ordering a new one.  Who knew a cute fic would come from that combination?!  There isn’t much mentioned about ACTUAL sewing in this fic, so even if you aren’t crafty, you should be good.  Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third-party site or app.  This is a work of fiction and I do not own any characters in this story.  By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.  Moodboard picture sources are Google and Canva.

Make sure to check out my masterlist!

“Huh, that’s strange.”  Unplugging your iron, you move to the next outlet in your sewing room.  You need to start your next project, but your iron didn’t seem to be warming up.  Maybe you accidentally blew a fuse, but you could have Johnny check that later.

Plugging into the next outlet, the iron still doesn’t work.  No lights, no heat - nothing.  With a sigh, you unplug the iron once more to try it in one last outlet.  Mumbling out a “please, please work,” you move across the room and plug it in.

As a shock travels through your arm, the fuse blows.  “SHIT!”  Shaking out your arm, you have no other choice but to unplug the iron and call it quits.  You could bring it up and try to have Reed fix it, but you needed to start on the quilt for his and Sue’s baby today if you wanted to get it done in time for the baby shower.  Just as you start planning out what to do, you hear your boyfriend, Johnny, come down the hall to stop at your sewing room door.

“Is everything OK in here, babe?  I thought I heard you shout a few seconds ago.”

“I don’t know, but I think so.”  Looking down at your arm, you try shaking it out a few more times to stop the tingling sensation.  “I was trying to start on the baby quilt, but my iron wasn’t working.  I think it just shocked me.”

Within a few seconds, Johnny’s standing right in front of you inspecting your arm.  “Are you OK?  Do I need to get one of the doctors up here?  Does it hurt?”

Using your left hand to grab his chin, you hold his face still so you can meet his worried eyes.  “Johnny, I’m fine.  It was just a shock.  Most of the tingling is gone already.  I’ll be back to normal in a few minutes.”

With a pout, he releases your arm to wrap his around you and pull you in close.  “Are you sure?”  Before he continues, a smirk finds its way to his face.  “Because I can kiss it to make it better.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you’re quick to respond.  “Who am I to interfere with your healing ways?”  With a smile, he places a kiss to your arm followed by one to your shoulder, neck, jaw, and lips.  After pulling apart, you smile.  “You’re a miracle worker, hot stuff.  I’m healed!”

Leaning in, Johnny continues to trail kisses down your neck and up to your ear.  “Are you sure?”  His whisper in your ear causes a shiver to run down your spine.  “I can continue treatment in the bedroom if you need it.”

When he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, you can’t help the whimper that escapes.  “Johnny, we can’t.  I need to finish this baby quilt for your sister and Reed before the shower next weekend.”  Moving your hands to frame his face, you gently remove him from your neck.  Any other day you’d give in to the perfect pout on his face, but you need to get this project done now.

“I’m serious, Johnny.”  Looking over at your iron, you give out a deep sigh.  “I don’t know what I’m going to do without my iron.  There aren’t any fabric stores close enough to grab a new one and even if I order one, it won’t be here in time to get this done.”  You don’t mean to get so emotional about it, but you can’t help the tears that form in your eyes knowing you might not get this done in time.

Seeing the tears before they fall, Johnny is quick to flip the switch from pouting to problem solving.  “Hey, hey, it’s gonna be OK.  Are you forgetting what I do for a living?”  With a snap of his fingers, a flame comes to life.  “I don’t know much about sewing, but I do know I haven’t pulled out an iron for any of my dress shirts since I got my powers.”  With another snap, the flame disappears.  “If you show me what I need to do, I’ve got it covered.”

With wide eyes, you look up at your boyfriend.  “Are you sure, Johnny?  This will go a lot quicker if you help me, but it’s still going to take all afternoon.”

Pressing a quick kiss to your lips, he smiles.  “Of course I’m serious.  Isn’t this from both of us, anyway?  Shouldn’t I help with my future nephew’s gift if my name’s on the card?”

Oh, your sweet Johnny.  When you took this job as Reed and Sue’s personal assistant a few years ago, the only thing you had reservations about was being around the Human Torch.  Back then, Johnny had a list of scandals and ex-girlfriends a mile long.  From the moment you met him, he tried using that winning charm on you.  Sure, you were flattered, but you told yourself you didn’t need to go down that road to know it would end with heartache.

Even after the fourth time you shot him down for a date, you still found yourself spending a lot of time with Johnny.  You had discovered early on that you had similar taste in movies and tv shows.  What started out as him popping in to discuss a new episode while he was passing your office quickly turned into the two of you having movie marathons and binge-watching shows together.

After a few months of spending time together, you noticed things with Johnny were suddenly different.  When you first started having movie marathons, you sat on opposite ends of the couch.  Now, you cuddled under the same blanket.  Walking down the street to your favorite diner to grab a quick bite now included Johnny’s arm wrapped around you “just to keep you warm”.  Flowers started to appear on your desk every few weeks because they reminded him of you.  

That sly bastard had worked his way into your heart without you even knowing it.

Even with all those changes, it wasn’t until Johnny left for Reed’s bachelor party trip that you realized how much you missed him.  That weekend, Sue invited you up to her and Reed’s apartment for a girls night.  After finalizing some wedding details over a few bottles of wine, she had you admitting your feelings for Johnny.  Knowing Johnny only had eyes for you, she spilled your secrets to her brother before he even got home and soon you found yourself on your first date.

The rest, they say, is history.  Since you already had a firm foundation built up from months of being friends, your relationship escalated quickly.  After six months of dating, you agreed to move into his private floor of the Baxter Building and now you’ve been seeing each other for almost a year.

Leaning in to give him a kiss, you pull back with a smile.  “Thank you, Johnny.  You already helped pick out the fabric, but it will mean so much more to your sister and your nephew knowing you helped make it.”  With a smirk, you can’t help but add, “plus, the faster we get done, the faster we can get back to those plans you had for the bedroom.”

With a bright smile, Johnny turns you to the ironing board.  “Sold!”  Picking up the Buzz Lightyear fabric he helped pick out for the quilt, he joined you at the ironing board.  The fabric was a perfect fit for the Toy Story themed nursery, and it played into the inside joke you all had that Johnny sounded just like Buzz.  “Now, space ranger,” you couldn’t hide your giggle when he busted out his best Buzz impression, “what do you need me to do?”

It only took a few minutes to teach Johnny the different things he needed to know, and after just a few hours, you were able to finish the quilt top.  Johnny was quick to suggest celebrating your “mission accomplished” with drinks, dinner ordered in from your favorite diner down the street, and a night in the bedroom, and who were you to argue?

The next weekend at the baby shower, Johnny was excited for Sue and Reed to open your gift.  It was the first time since he was a kid that he’d made something for a gift instead of just buying it, and you could tell he was proud of the work you’d done.  At first, Sue didn’t believe Johnny had helped, but after explaining how he helped pick out the fabric and what happened with your iron, her emotions (and hormones) got the best of her and she shed a few tears at the story.  Johnny tried his hardest to downplay his involvement in the moment, but you could tell he was satisfied with Sue’s reaction.

After the baby shower wrapped up, you both decide the small food portions just didn’t cut it, so you take off on a slow walk towards the diner.  On your walk, you thank Johnny again for his help.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, hot stuff.”

Turning his head, he smiles at you before bringing your joint hands up to his lips.  “Well, if it’s OK with you, I don’t plan on you ever having to find that out.  Sound good to you?”

All at once, you felt a million butterflies in your stomach.  Sure, you’d talked about your hopes for the future regarding things like marriage and kids back when you started dating, but he’d never flat out put it in those terms before.  Trying to stay as calm as possible, you dart your eyes over to meet his before quickly looking away.  That beautiful and cocky son of a bitch knew exactly what he was doing to you, but you didn’t want to let him know that.

Or at least that was your plan until your response came out as a squeak.  “Yeah, sounds good to me.”  You feel your cheeks heat up as you try to find anything interesting to look at instead of Johnny’s smug face.  With a tug on your arm, you finally look up to meet his gaze.

“Smooth, babe.  Real smooth.”

Groaning, you let him pull you into the diner and shut the door behind you.  After greeting one of the waitresses and ordering your usual, Johnny pulls you to the corner booth and lets you sit down before sliding in next to you.  As you wait for your food to come, he throws his right arm around your shoulders and uses his left to tilt your face up to his.  It takes a few quick pecks to make your pout disappear, but he doesn’t care.

“Love you, babe.”

Snuggling into his side, you smile and sigh.  “Love you too, hot stuff.”

[niobe-loreley]

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {vii}

it's been so long? huhuhuhuu~ cuz of that 2 chapters incoming!

disclaimer: The Gray Man and the characters are NOT MINE, even the reader. I only own the plot and the reader's character lol. Pictures used in the fic are NOT MINE, only the edited version of the pics (u can msg me if u ze owner); credits to the rightful owners and to canva + weheartit. Addtionally, I am not a Subic/Zambales native, so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentery x Female Reader

warnings: moderate swear words. some filipino dialogues. slow burn. fluff. trust issues. comedy if you use a magnifying glass. culture shock. check some word count.

CHAPTER SELECTION in the ✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 6 - where is this? in the masterlist! Chapter 7 - this is IT [next chapter link will be posted below for suspense and convenice hehe]

word count: 3k (N/N): nickname *Kiara = Claire *Kurt = Court *cover names | reader doesn't know (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall)

“Hoy, (N/N)!”

“Huh?”

“Tapos na shift mo, ba’t ka pa nandiyan?”

“For extra cash?”

After the manager of Ril Steak scolds you for overworking, you start heading to the staffroom. You actually didn’t realize the time, because you’re too busy recalling the rising action of your summer. It's the dispute you had with Court three weeks ago.

“.. Kiara and I are the Road Runner. So don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

You don’t know why it suddenly pops into your mind. Maybe because it's either filled with books, movies, the father-daughter duo, or anime, and no in between. But you let the memories ride you like a rollercoaster as it's almost reaching this summer's climax— the loop-de-loops.

Rewind back to three weeks ago…

Claire hasn’t contacted you ever since they got back from their 3-day trip. You wonder if she’s starting to heed her dad’s ways of not getting too close to you, but you also wonder if she and Court are fighting because of you. You feel like that’s too narcissistic. It’s easier to say she’s avoiding you. Still, aren’t you just a troublemaker? (Note the sarcastic cooing).

Without a second thought, you’re befriending a foreign teenage girl with a damning cardiovascular system and exchanging books with her like old friends. What’s more is that you’re trying to prove yourself to her father. Since when did you care if anyone thought you were kind or not? He’s not worth shit of your kindness, however, his daughter is a different story.

“(N/N), do you read me? Don’t give it back to him.” Claire says as soon as you open the two-way radio. “I repeat, don’t give the walkie-talkie back to my dad. Over.”

“I read you, Kiara. And I actually concluded before sleeping this morning that I really won’t give it to him. Over.”

"Wow, so steadfast. That's admirable. Over."

It’s Thursday— rest day! You’ve done nothing but sleep from 8 AM to 7PM. Ril Steak was packed last night. Plus, there was a fight, it happened two hours before closing. You can’t wait to tell Claire how you smack a bottle on someone’s head to save your co-worker from being pummeled.

“What’s more admirable is you rebelling. Or did Kurt give back your walkie-talkie? Over.”

“Nah, I’m rebelling. We’re kinda fighting ‘cause of you. Over.”

Yikes. So, you weren’t being narcissistic. Intuition for the win.

“Don’t take that the wrong way, (N/N)! I mean,” Claire pauses to hiss out a profanity. “It’s not your fault. My dad just thinks we’re the only two people on the planet, and talking to flowers is a bad thing. Over.”

You snort. “Luckily for you, this flower doesn’t just talk— she claps back! Over!”

“Damn right, she does!” Claire giggles, “Over.”

You let the gleeful moment pass, counting to three, you sigh heavy-heartedly. “Still, Kiara.. I don’t want you and your dad fighting because of me.” you glance at the miniature ferris wheel on your bedside drawer, “Not when it sounds like you two are all you have left of each other. Over.”

“.. Is it that obvious?”

You smile. “It wasn’t at first. But then, I got to know you two.” and you recline on your swivel chair, “A month is enough to get to know a person.. right?”

Static answers you back, but you know she’s still on the other side of the line, so you continue. “It’s easier to say that I’m doing this out of pity, but I’m not. You remind me of my little sister, Kiara.. but I like you because you’re not entirely like that snot-nosed brat I love very much.” you breathe out a laugh, “You’re a good kid, I’m sure you understand why your dad is being like this. Over.”

“Yeah, I understand, but..”

You wait for two seconds before you press the button. “See? You’re smart and very mature for your age, too. Over.”

“Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye, (N/N)?— Over.”

“I’m not saying goodbye to you, just to our transmitted talks. Over.”

“I thought you said you weren’t giving it back to him?”

“I’m not. But I am reducing the schedule of our late night talks.” you pause to prepare your mother-like tone, “It’s way past your bedtime, young lady!— Over.”

“....”

“We’ll still see each other every Friday, okay? Over.”

“Promise?— Over.”

Shit.

You sigh and press the button. “Well, unless my schedule changes, or I get sick, or Godzilla emerges from the sea.. then cross my heart, hope to die. Over.”

“Don’t say that, (N/N)!” Claire suddenly cries.

Something squeezes your heart, you wait for three seconds this time, but Claire continues to stay silent. “K-Kiara? What do you mean? Over.” you question worriedly.

Her voice frizzles through, you’re not sure whether it’s static or there’s really a crack in her voice. 

“I’m sorry.. I gotta go. You know, chores.” she begins to sound upbeat, “See you tomorrow night? Over.”

You falter. “Yeah, sure.. tomorrow night. Over.”

“Great! Buh-bye! Over and out.”

Claire turns off the portable radio, glaring down at it, she picks it up to throw it across the room. But she stays still. She knows the consequences of letting someone else into her and Court’s lives, but she only realizes now that she doesn’t fully understand it yet, especially about— what could happen to you.

There’s a weight of another person in the room, Claire looks over to see Court at the opened door, which was previously locked. He gazes into her glassy eyes, guilt etching his face with a frown, and he regards the floor, mulling over on how to comfort her.

“Good night, Six.” she says with a sigh, depositing the radio on her bedside drawer, she lays down on her side.

Court tightens his jaw. “Good night, Claire.” and flicks the switch, swiveling away to exit the room, he grabs the door—

“I’m not mad at you, you know.”

He halts, turning sideways to look back at her, even though the streetlight is the only illumination of her room, years of training in the dark has allowed Court to find her smiling at him through the dimness. “Thank you,” he replies, tensed shoulders loosening with relief. “And in case you don’t know, I’m not mad at you either.”

She scoffs. “As if you could be.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What’s gotta give for you to take me seriously?”

Claire hums. “Your trust issues, for one.”

“What?”

“To elaborate.. get a girlfriend,” Claire sits upright. “Or atleast, have sex. You’re probably all pent—”

“Good night, Claire.” Court firmly interjects,  stepping out of the room with burning ears.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t run away! I should be the one running away!”

“I said, good night!”

“And I heard you the first two times.”

“Will you just get back to bed?”

Surprisingly, today’s Friday is not busy. Or so you thought. As soon as the clock strikes 11 AM, customers have been coming in relentlessly. It’s been a while since the cafe has been full, some customers have taken the tables outside; luckily, you cleaned them this morning. It was destiny— or rather accidentally sweeping a finger across one of the tables and ending up with a dust-coated fingertip.

The customers start to diminish around 8 PM, Mindy wanted to flip the sign from OPEN TO CLOSED, but you and Muro managed to stop her. When no customers show up for 30 minutes, the three of you decide to eat in the CCTV room, watching a Netflix movie on Mindy’s phone rather than eyeing the surveillance footage.

“Buti naga-adjust na si Lilia,” Mindy suddenly says, taking a sip of her canned root beer. 

It’s good that Lilia is adjusting.

You nod. “Masipag naman kase.” She’s diligent.

“Imagine kung hindi, edi lagot ka kayo pareho nung bata kay Eliza.” Muro snickers.

Imagine if she wasn’t, you and the kid will both be reprimanded by Eliza.

You can’t retort with a mouthful of carbonara, so you kick his chair instead. Muro nearly falls, and Mindy laughs at his attempts to stay upright.

When everyone has had their fill, you’re chosen by roleta (picker wheel) to wash the dishes. You play music from your phone before slipping it in your apron. Mindy hollers for you just as Lutang by jikamarie starts playing.

“What?” you holler back instead of going over to the surveillance room, she and Muro have opted to stay there to continue watching the movie.

“Nandito na sila!” They’re here!

“Ha? Sino?” you loudly ask, looking over to see Mindy peeking out of the surveillance room’s doorway, which is just beside the door to the staffroom.

She makes a face at you. “Edi sino pa ba?”

Muro suddenly, yet carefully, sidles past her. "Ako na d'yan, (N/N)." I'll handle that, (N/N).

"Fine," you sigh and wipe your hand on the drying cloth hanging near the sink.

"Bakit? May nangyari ba?" Mindy questions. Why? Did something happen?

Your brows knot puzzledly. "Ha? Saan?"

What? Where?

"Ano ba?! Ba't ka ganyan, haa?!" Mindy smacks you upside the head when you pass by, "Malamang tinatanong ko kung may nangyari ba sa'yo at sa mag-ama! Panay buntong hininga ka kase tuwing name-mention sila tapos humahaba mukha mo parang kabayo!"

What are you doing?! Why are you acting like this, huh?! — "I'm obviously asking about the father-daughter duo! You're always sighing whenever they're mentioned, and then your face would stretch like a horse!

"Bakit may mangyayari sa'min?! 'Di naman kami gano'n ka-close na makakapag-usap araw-araw!" you shout, rubbing the back of your head. "Tuwing Friday nga lang nagki-kita… Nabatukan at nainsulto pa ko."

Why would anything happen to us?! We're not that close to talk everyday! — We only see each other on Fridays… I was even smacked and insulted.

You exit the kitchen with a smile. "Hey, you guys!" you greet in a large yet high-toned voice as they take their usual booth.

“Ha, Sloth!” Claire laughs, wagging an approving finger at you.

You tip a finger-gun at her appreciatively. “I see you are a woman of culture.”

“Magandang gabi, (Y/N).” says Court with a nod. Good evening, (Y/N).

You’re astonished, after the dispute you two had, you have been believing that you two aren’t on speaking terms anymore. “M-Magandang gabi,” you reply, mentally cursing yourself for stuttering, and you pretend to be busy behind the counter.

After the father-daughter has settled their belongings in the booth, or more like, after Claire dumps her sling pouch on the seat, she’s skipping to the counter with Court trailing behind her. You take their orders, remarking several nutritional values that you know about certain meals from time to time. And there's something different about these two tonight.

“No one bought your strawberry shortcake today?” Court inquires as he waits for the receipt. Claire is already hovering by the game shelves.

“Huh?” you blink.

He gestures to the display case, eyeing the whole strawberry shortcake on the second shelf, and you glance, mouth forming an O as you finally understood. “Well, if you mean no one bought one whole strawberry shortcake, then yeah.” you smile and hand him the receipt, “But I actually sold five slices today.”

“Oh, good for you, then." he chuckles, glancing down at his shoes.

You grin. “Thanks! Would you two like me to serve some slices for dessert?"

"Oh, no, I.." he trails off, rubbing the side of his neck, he looks at you for one second and then at the display case."I was actually going to buy the whole cake."

"Really?" you stammer dumbfoundedly.

"Yeah, for Friday movie night.. Kiara wanted to watch the books she borrowed from you, but she also added a comedy movie or two in the list." he paused to breathe out a laugh, "She said that TFIOS and Paper Towns are too much heartache to watch in one night."

"Indeed, indeed, they are. I suggest you prepare your tissues as well."

"Kiara already has them in the living room."

"Well, aren't you ready to burst into tears later!" you teasingly regard Claire when she steps up beside Court.

"I am so ready!" she fist-pumps.

"You better call me tomorrow about it." you say with a playful frown.

"Of course!"

"Um, is it alright if we just take the cake later?" Court asks and deposits the exact payment on the counter.

You nod. "Sure! I'll just box it up once you two start eating."

Before their dinner is cooked, you play a game of DOS with Court and Claire, because they're not familiar with the rules (actually, the whole game). You teach it to them and end up playing.

"This game is rigged," Court frowns when he draws another card from the pile. "I'm not getting any number lower than five, so I'll pass."

"Who shuffled the deck?" Claire asks, putting down a red 2 and blue 2 atop the green 4, she then slides the cards to the discard pile before placing a new card down.

"Hey, don't blame me—" you dramatically place a hand on your chest, "—I shuffled like a casino dealer. You're just unlucky, Kurt."

When Muro calls you to serve the meals, the game ends with no losers or winners, though Claire was close as she only had three cards left. You had five, while Court had eight. You leave the father-daughter duo to eat and begin packaging the strawberry shortcake with a stupid smile on your face. You don't even realize until Muro points it out, which earns him a kick to the shin.

It's not that you're going crazy, you just thought that Court and Claire would be all stiff and awkward tonight. Considering the last time you spoke with Court, plus the call you had with Claire last night. But instead, they're acting normal. While you're still racking your brain on whether or not to stop interacting with them, or at least lessen it.

And playing DOS with them is the way to go— your inner self remarks with a derisive sneer, and you sigh defeatedly as you don't have any rational retorts in your arsenal.

You approach the father-daughter duo five minutes after they're done with their meals. "Here's your cake!" you hold up the box by the ribbon and a hand on the bottom.

Claire takes it the same way. 'Thank you!" she beams and peers into the small plastic window, shaped as a fleur, on the box cover.

"I'll see you two out," you grin, striding ahead. 

The bell chimes merrily when you push the door all the way open. You step aside for Claire and Court to exit. "See you next Friday, (N/N)!" she waves at you.

"Good night," Court murmurs as he passes by.

"Bye and good night, you two! Safe driving!" you reach for the door, and something moves in your peripheral vision, it clutches your wrist just as you grab the door.

The handle is sharply cool against your palm, while Court's hand is warm around your wrist, which appears so tiny being enveloped by his fingers. "Kurt?" you ask, quizzically regarding him.

He releases your wrist when he meets your confused gaze. "Sorry, I was," he cuts himself off, sighing, and he gathers his courage for a second, all the while he doesn't stop looking at you. This makes you blush until he says, "I was wondering if you'd like to join us?"

The blood in your cheeks runs cold. "Huh?"

Claire hops beside him. "Really?!"

"If she wants to," says Court.

"Please say you do, (N/N)!" Claire grabs your arm eagerly.

You're flabbergasted. "Bu-But I can't go, I'm still working until 10:30."

"We could wait. Is that a yes?" Claire prompts.

"No! No, no.. I mean, I don't want to impose." you say, glancing at Court.

"You're not, because I'm inviting you." he declares reassuringly.

Just say NO— a simple word of refusal with two letters and one syllable, that's all there is to it. Because you're trying to heed Court's advice of not getting too close to them, right? So— WHY THE HELL IS COURT THE ONE INVITING YOU TO THEIR HOUSE AND YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT IT?!

He started it, so you should end it.

You sigh. "Alright.."

"Alright?! Yay!" Claire exclaims.

“What?— Wait, Kiara!”

She marches back in the cafe and sits on the table near the game shelves. “Can we play while we wait for your shift to end?”

You whip to Court with a glare, and he abruptly halts from entering the cafe. "What the hell are you doing?!" you whisper in a low, hissing tone.

"I think I'm stopping from going into the cafe..?"

"This is not the time to be wise, smartass."

"I'm not—"

"Listen, I don't even wanna know what you're really after. But Kiara shouldn't be caught in the middle of this, Road Runner. You’re always insinuating that I shouldn’t be too close to the two of you, but then you’re pulling a stunt like this! Here I am trying to make promises I can keep..”

Court is stunned, with how venomous your words and glare are, it’s as though you’ve practically bitten him and discharged poison into his system. He watches you stroll away, shoulders squared, yet you smile at Claire while passing by her. It’s an understatement to say that he wasn’t thinking straight when he asked you to join their movie night. He’s still trying to process why he did it, but the consequences of his actions are pouncing on him too fast.

Glancing over his shoulder, he eyes the street with suspicion. He hides his wariness behind a blank facade, closing the door as he steps back in the cafe, he starts pondering on the reasons why everything seems upside down when it concerns you. And as he ponders, a few things keep sticking in the crevices of his brain—

Claire likes you. 

And he’s starting to like you (as a person). 

It’s absolutely hard not to like you.

A/N: oh goshhhh he's starting to like you teehee sparks are starting to fly around the air

The portal to Chapter 8 will open momentarily, kindly wait :> no more! IT'S OPEN <333

✨TAGLIST✨

@kat-thepoet @queenofhellhasrisen @sierrasixswife @vallyb @lyuir [want to be in this awesome list? Check out the fic's Masterlist on how to join!]

[mike-wachowski]

happy supercorptober, day 4: couch

The couch is an ugly, dirty, grotesque thing. It's a shade of orange Lena had once compared to a rotting pumpkin found on someone's porch, long forgotten after Halloween. It’s missing a cushion, and she’s pretty sure a raccoon has tunnelled inside it, tearing up the corner and throwing cotton everywhere. Sometimes when she sits, she swears she hears a squeak. 

For some reason, Kara loves it. 

When she first saw it on the street, walking home after school, she ran all the rest of the way home to steal the keys to Jeremiah’s truck, coercing Alex to join her along the way. She pulled up to the curb beside it, and together she and Alex hauled the heavy thing into the truck’s bed and strapped it down with some loose rope they’d grabbed from the garage. 

The couch’s previous owner, or at least Kara assumed, called out to them as Alex tightened the final knot over the old piece of furniture. 

“You sure you want to take that?” The woman shouted out from where she was watering a single tiny rosebush by her porch. “The old thing is junk. We were hoping large item pickup would get it, not some kids.” 

Kara smiled despite the woman’s lack of enthusiasm. “I can pay you for it if you like!” 

The woman shook her head, turning back to her wilting roses. “You’re doing me a favor just getting it out of my sight.” 

Clambering back into the truck after double checking the ropes, Alex turned to Kara with a familiar look. Skeptical and scrutinizing. “She’s right, you know,” Alex had said, tapping a finger on the steering wheel as she drove back towards their house. “It’s a piece of junk. Mom’s never gonna let you take it inside.” 

“I don’t need to bring it inside,” Kara hummed as she watched the neighborhood pass by. “I know the perfect place for it.” 

Kara first met Lena Luthor at a run-down playground inside an old abandoned military base up the hill in her neighborhood. Kara had placed six plastic bottles equidistant from each other up on the fence around the jungle gym, and was taking shots at them with some pebbles she had grabbed during the hike up here. On her third bottle’s first throw she overswings, and the pebble sails past the fence and through a thicket of bushes, and suddenly Kara hears a surprised yelp of pain and a loud “What the fuck?” 

She drops her pebbles and rushes towards the bushes, glancing around them to find a girl sitting in the dirt. Kara takes inventory: dark hair, private school uniform, textbook in her lap, clutching her forehead and wincing in pain. Oops. 

“Hello?” Kara starts, voice weak from her extended silence all day. Other than with Alex and Eliza at breakfast, this is the first time she’s talked in hours. “Did you, um… did you see a rock fly through here just now?” 

The girl looks up at her with anger written all over her face. “Did I see a-did you throw that rock at me?” 

“Oh, no,” Kara immediately chokes out. “I mean, yes I threw it, but I didn’t throw it at you, I didn’t mean to hit you-”

The girl raises a hand to stop her, commanding more force than Kara thought was possible for a person her age. She shuts up quickly. 

“It’s fine,” the girl mutters, pulling her hand back to reveal a welt on her forehead that makes Kara feel less than fine about the situation. “Honestly, I'm used to it,” she scoffs, and that's enough to push Kara over the edge. 

“I’m sorry!” she blurts out. “I’m sorry. You should come study with me. I mean, I'm not studying, I've been throwing rocks at bottles because I had a really bad day at school. You don't care about that. Um, I like to hang out at the old playground right there, and there’s some picnic tables you can study at so you don't have to sit in the dirt. There’s also a couch. My sister Alex helped me bring it up last week.” 

The girl stares at her with widening eyes, and for a moment Kara thinks she might just get up and leave, but then she does something that surprsises Kara entirely: she giggles. “Wow,” she whispers through her light laughter. “You really can ramble, huh?”

Kara is speechless. Usually people make fun of her inability to stop talking sometimes, the way she’ll keep going until she’s spoken herself into a hole. But this person likes it, her laughter didn’t seem malicious or teasing at all- just genuinely, amazingly happy. 

“I’m sorry I laughed,” she says, probably in reaction to the clear shock on Kara’s face. “It’s just, I think that's the most anyone’s talked to me in weeks.” 

“That’s the most I’ve talked all day,” Kara realizes. She sticks her hand out to the girl. “My name’s Kara.”

“Hi Kara,” the girl responds, using Kara’s outstretched hand to pull herself to her feet. “I’m Lena.”

Lena. Lena. Lena.

Kara falls for her right then and there. 

-

“I can’t believe this couch has lasted over a year.” 

Kara looks over at Lena, who’s sitting on one of the last remaining cushions next to her, tucked under Kara’s arm as they face the sunset. Lena had said it so quietly, she almost didn't hear it, but the sly smile Kara catches as she finishes her sentence is proof enough that she didn’t imagine it. She hums in consideration, before asking, “What makes you say that?”

“I thought the possums would have turned it into a housing complex by now,” Lena laughs. “Or we’d show up and find one of the graffiti artists had taken it home. Or Alex would have made you throw it out by now.” 

Kara smiles at that last one. “Not for lack of trying on her part, you know.”

“Oh, I remember,” Lena squeezes Kara’s arm gently. “Remember when we showed up and Alex was trying to drag it out of here? She thought it was starting to smell, but it was-”

“-the old sandwich I had stashed under there a month ago.” Kara finishes with Lena, the two of them dissolving into a fit of laughter at the memory. When the laughter fades and they both turn to face one another, eyes locking, Lena asks her something. 

“Kara, why do you like this couch so much?” She asks, rubbing an open hand over the rough, worn, canvas upholstery. “You saw a dirty, beat-up couch on the street and decided you needed it?”

Kara looks away, back towards the setting sun, which is now casting a warm orange glow not dissimilar to the color of the couch they’re currently sitting on. 

“I can give you a real answer and a funny answer to that, I guess.” 

“Start with the real one, dear,” Lena tells her, reaching over to hold Kara’s hand. 

“Well,” Kara starts. “It’s kinda silly, but I just saw it and… the people who had it before didn’t want it. They thought it was junk. Back then, I guess I thought they were giving up on it.” Kara shakes her head, laughing to herself. “I know it’s silly. It’s just a couch. But I wanted to give it a second chance.” 

Lena’s eyes shine with unspoken words that Kara understands better than anyone. She runs her thumb over Kara’s, and Kara knows she understands too.

“And the funny answer?” 

Kara grins wide. “We had our first kiss on this couch.” 

Lena pulls back an inch, eyebrows furrowing. “First kiss? Kara, we’ve never even…”

“Lena,” Kara whispers. “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh- oh,” Lena stammers. “Yes, please.” 

Kara lunges forward across the couch and kisses her. 

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. i honestly have to guess the reason the anatomy is just SO bad in LO now is that the team gets such rushed sketches from rachel (youd be shocked how many series do this to their teams of assistants) and are on such a time crunch that yeah with a little more time they could fine-tune it to look better but they just go "fuck it" and follow exactly whats on the sketch and it just ends up looking like ... that. its not really the fault of the team but more rachel doesnt give them a lot to work with.

2. idk how you guys claim lo persephone has no personality?? she has big boobs and ass and does whatever hades wants her to do, thats all the personality she needs! (/s obviously)

3. LMAOOO EROS IS BANNED NOW?? love you terrible tumblr staff, never change

4. I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT CANVAS COMIC YOURE TALKING ABOUT and you can check the creator's instagram and see the majority of their page is just LO fanart. they maybe could have claimed arrogance if this wasn't the case (tbh most of the character, story, and visual tropes LO uses are super common place that an accidental overlap is very possible) to give it more leeway, but the fact they're an admitted LO fan who just HAPPEN to have all the same exact elements is ... very sus.

5. the athena/hesita ship is also bad bc theyre framed as hypocrites for not letting the poor straight girl persephone bone her near retirement age boss and theyre just?? stupid?? like they never get rid of their no sex rule? also rachel's past comments of hestia "getting over" being asexual (as if asexuals dont have sex? its a spectrum?) and the fact athena has to look like a Man™️ while Hestia looks like a Woman™️ so it's also a gendered gay ship too. It's just bad no matter how you cut it.

6. this is such an annoying thing about RS's "character designs" but why do NONE of them have even some distinct accessories to show who they are? Give Zeus a crown of lighting streaks. Give Hera peacock decals on her clothes. Have Poseidon carry his trident on his back. Give Hades a jewel skull tie pin. ANYTHING! The only one who has any is Persephone with blobby flowers which often aren't even there and lack any sort of rhyme or reason to them (other than blue for horny 🤨). It's so lazy!

-----FP Spoilers/Mention-----

7. FP Spoilers//I wish Persephone had come by her wrath honestly instead of it being "blessed" by Eris. Like. Heaven forbid the sweet precious cinnamon roll has dimension and feels wrath because that's natural and just part of her? Maybe I'm not making sense. Idk it just feels like RS is doing everything in her power to make Persephone perfect rather than a well rounded character. Maybe I'm wrong. Idk I just hate that it's not *her* wrath it's a blessing from Eris. Smh. 

8. alright im not spending coins on it, what cliffhanger did the mid season finale end on this time. (//fp spoilers obvs)

From OP: I’d recommend just going on youtube tbh. The panels kinda add to this weird mid season finale.

9. //FP SPOILERS

OH MY GOD YESSSS I'VE BEEN WAITING 12 YEARS  WHOLE SEASON FOR THIS. Persephone's finally getting the punishment for all her deeds(and a pretty fair one, per se), she and Hades will finally be apart and Zeus being an actual ruler who makes big decisions and not some clown. Like yeah, there is also ugly art, plot twists out of nowhere, but this is just season 2 you can't do anything about. All and all this is the best chapter in the season so far, can't wait for LO stans to read it, ooh boy this is going to be fun

10. Fp- yep so Perse is all uwu, her "ambitious" side and aow wasn't even hers. Wanted character development? Now you have downgrade. Thanks Rachel. At least we are getting Minthe back

[urlkssknt]

nanami kento x fem!reader (2.9k)

nsfw!! mdi!!

warnings; unprotected sex, it’s just very soft and vanilla

a/n; this is a scene from a series i might write, i’m not sure if i want to commit to it, please let me know your thoughts, feedback is much appreciated!

The marriage announcement caught you off guard, it felt like someone had thrown you into the deep end of a pool and you didn't know how to swim, drowning slowly in the snarky whispers from the attendants of the party that reached your ear - wasn't he married to Y/n? Poor girl, I wouldn't be able to show my face if I was her. Many eyes around the room turned towards you in anticipation, waiting for some display of anger or a rage-induced outburst. Much to their disappointment, you stood your ground. You wouldn’t let the perfectly crafted mask fall from your face, especially not now, you couldn’t let the woman, who held a leash over your ex, know she caused an effect on you.

From a distance over, Satoru watched you closely through the peripheral of his sharp vision, you leaned further into the dark long haired man standing beside you to whisper something into his ear. Suguru handed you a small rectangular box discreetly. He was equally as shocked as you. Satoru expected Toji to pull a stunt like this, maybe another pregnancy announcement or a business merger. He never expected it to be announced publicly, in a Gojou family setting. Whilst claps of congratulations sounded around the hall, Gojou's cold gaze threw daggers towards your ex-husband, standing beside your parents with a hand on the waist of his fiancée. The sight of gleaming smiles across your parent’s faces made Satoru feel sick to his stomach. The white haired man also took a mental note of the people who seemed genuinely happy for the wretched couple. Those people didn't realise that they had gotten onto Gojou Satoru's bad side and ruined any promising positive relationship with the businessman.

There was a chill in the evening air as you stood on the balcony, you were grateful no one else was outside to witness the devastation on your face, only the night sky being witness to the single teardrop that fell along the expanse of your cheek. The cold air nipped at the bare skin of your arms and neck, raising the fine hairs which run all along your skin. As a thought of regret for not bringing a jacket along with you popped into your mind, you opened the cigarette packet that Suguru handed to you, bringing one up to your lips to rest as you fish for a lighter in your purse, praying that you had one despite having quit the disgusting habit years ago.

The temperature of the chilling air around you rises as a warming presence pressed against your back, you only relax when the familiar scent of rich cologne mixed with cinnamon infiltrates your senses, allowing yourself to melt into the heated hands that run along your naked arms.

"Do you even have a lighter?" Kento questions as you continue to search through your bag, which was so small, the blond was sceptical about it being big enough to fit any necessities.

Peering up through your lashes, your azure eyes narrowed at him as your lips formed into a deep scowl. Kento was right, you didn’t have a lighter, specifically for scenarios like this, where your fingers are itching to grab at the first intoxicant to cloud your mind. Smoking would help calm the stress that scratches the walls of your brain as the tobacco fills your bloodstream.

“Suguru probably has one-“ you mutter under your breath, speaking with the white stick sitting comfortably between your lips before a hand quickly reaches for it and throws the small object off the balcony, out of sight and out of reach. “What the hell-“ there was little time to process the sudden action as your words are cut short with kento’s palms encasing your face to tilt your head slightly and allow him to lower his lips onto yours in a short kiss. The anger that rushed through your veins quickly dissolved, leaving as fast as it was produced.

A small smile creeped along your lips, “maybe I should take up smoking again.”

Kento couldn’t help the chuckle that let up his throat, his eyes crinkling in the same way that the twin’s did. His hands dropped from your face to hold your hips over the silk material, pulling you closer towards him, your breasts pressing against his chest.

“Let's get out of here.”

Earlier, before he followed your footsteps to check on you, Kento felt a strong grip latch on his arm to prevent him from moving further. The culprit was your brother. Satoru held an intimidating aura, his sapphire eyes bearing a look cold enough to pierce skin. The older man whispered short words to Nanami, advising him to take you away from the party, in order to protect you.

As Kento was texting the babysitter he had hired for the night, making sure his kids were safely sleeping in their beds, you were checking in with the two Zen’in girls that were looking after Megumi for the night. Maki and Mai loved spending time with you, when you announced the divorce with their cousin, they were undeniably upset, not because Toji’s heart was broken but it meant they wouldn’t be able to see you as often.

It wasn't as difficult as you thought it might be to locate the hotel room. Thankfully, both of you were in a conscious state of mind, avoiding the sparkling alcoholic beverages being served in crystal flutes. The hand on the curve of your waist held you close to Kento’s embrace. Just from a short glance, any onlooker would be able to know you were his, there was a loving atmosphere surrounding you two which was hard to miss, from the pearly smile painting your glossy lips to the radiant sparkling of gold among the hues of brown. The booked room was found quickly. Anticipation began to bubble in your stomach, you felt excited to spend the night with such a handsome man, again.

All of your hair was pushed to one side on your shoulder, exposing the tender flesh of your neck. A beautiful and plain canvas just waiting to be painted with deep and dark shades of pinks and purples. The plain sight caused a stir in Kento’s mind, he desired to mark you, in a way he knew no one ever would. Acting on impulse, the father of two kissed a spot where your neck met your shoulder so lightly it felt like petals brushing against your skin. A smirk found its home along Kento’s lips when you craned your head to the side, offering more of yourself to him. The innocent kisses progressed into deep bites, a sudden sharp nip against your pulse point causing a gasp to slip into the air. You couldn’t care less if a horrible bruise formed from Kento's lustful ministrations, his scent clouded your mind like a drug, your thoughts swirling into nothing. Your attention was fixated on the hands wandering from their place on your hips to groping your breasts through the silken material of your dress, sending arsoul to pool in your panties.

A deep timbre tone filled your ears, you turned to face the man speaking. “Would you like to know my new favourite colour?” Kento doesn’t wait for your answer, his hands squeeze at your chest again with more pressure, sadly eliciting another gasp from your lips. The corners of Kento's lips turn downwards ever so slightly, he had hoped that his ears would have been graced with a moan. “Sage green.”

The blond guides you to the queen-sized bed, lined with the finest material he had ever seen, Kento didn’t expect anything less from your brother, who handed him the key card. The hotel room was grand, almost as big as his own apartment, which was quite large.

Kento sits himself against the headboard with his suit jacket and tie discarded somewhere on the floor, falling victim to your travelling hands, eager to undress him. The clothing was no longer his concern as you situated yourself in his lap, thick thighs straddling his waist the best you could in the confinement of your dress. “Tonight,” Kento's eyes move from the swells of your breasts, your cleavage in his direct eye line, to meet your gleaming eyes. He was surprised to find his own reflection in them. “I'm yours.” The words felt heavy on his tongue and heart, it felt like he was confessing to you again, proving to himself that it was you that his heart yearns for.

Slowly, you clamber off of the blond man’s lap without voicing your intentions, not missing how his hands reach out to hold onto you for a moment longer, you giggle lightly at the display of clinginess, never expecting such a stoic man to behave like that. It was refreshing. It reassured the persistent whispers in the back of your mind that Kento wanted you like you wanted him. as you stood at the foot of the bed, you kicked off your nude heels, dropping your height by a few inches. A laugh fell upon your ears, Kento was amused, his smile hidden from your eyes behind his palm. However, the light atmosphere shifted when the sound of a zipper filled the room. Swiftly, the dress dropped to the floor from the pull of gravity, leaving you exposed except for the black lace thong, which barely hid anything from his eyes. Kento wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

Finally, it was your turn to smirk when your sharp eyes caught the growing tent of Kento's trousers.

Slowly, you crawled along the bedsheets at an agonising pace, it felt like hours before you finally reached your destination. Within an instant, you felt two large palms squeeze at the pudgy skin of your hips. You couldn’t help but press your hands against Kento's chest, fingers running aimlessly as you met his lips, kissing him with such desire, as if you had planned to devour him.

“Do you know what good boys get, Mister Nanami?” you say in a sultry tone, the touches of the small pads of your fingertips tracing unrecognisable shapes along his chest becoming distractive.

The words registered into the blond’s mind, you had previously asked the same question to the three toddlers, in hopes of containing their erratic behaviour in the kitchen. This should have been degrading, yet, despite using the childish question, a rational voice in Kento’s mind screamed at him to just give in for once.

“Rewards,” it was the same answer Sukuna gave you, it was the correct answer. However, Kento's voice only managed to speak just above a breath, finding himself unable to trust his own voice.

“Well done daddy,” you praised him with a sweet kiss, a shiver running up his neck, before making an effort to unbutton the shirt, “treat me nicely and I’ll reward you.”

All the remaining pieces of clothing were thrown off hurriedly, desperate to feel the pure heat of Kento's unbelievably hot body. It stunned you how he was constantly warm, maybe you could make him your personal heater.

Kento couldn’t help but groan loudly as your hips grinded against his dick, coating him with your wetness, he felt himself throbbing against your folds, ever so desperate to fill you to the brim. As if reading his mind, the teasing touches paused as you lined your entrance up with his cock, only after giving the hard member a few pumps with your hand. The broad shoulders of the businessman were used as an anchor, you cling onto him desperately as you sink onto his dick. In the span of a few hours, you had completely forgotten the thickness of kento’s sex, surprising yourself as you struggle to relax yourself to take him in. Wanton moans fell from both parties as you stayed still for a few seconds to get used to the burn from his fat cock stretching you. The hands on your waist squeeze tightly to help Kento ground himself from rutting up into you. Being enveloped with your warm cunt felt too good, especially when the gummy walls clamped around him, you were all he could think about.

Just from the position alone, the soft tissue of nerves which caused you to see stars were grazed upon, you couldn’t stop the moan escaping from your lips. “I could cum like this,” you relish in the feeling of the palms coaxing the movement of your hips and the mouth that latches onto your mound. A sharp nip against your peak leads to you arching into Kento's mouth, desperate for more of his touches. Despite spending the night before together, the pair of you couldn’t get enough of each other. Not when your tits would bounce as you raised your hips and begin a steady rhythm of grinding against Kento’s lap, each slam against his hips hitting a spot that causes your head to spin. The vision of you on top of him, riding his cock like your life depended on it, spurred the coil tightening in the pit of his stomach. The wetness that pooled between your thighs now began to drip down onto the pelvis of the man below you. A mixture of juices squelching and low moans sounded throughout the room. You had no time to feel embarrassed by the pornographic noises as you desperately chased your high.

“You’re making me feel so good angel,” a sense of pride blooms in Kento's chest as he feels you clenching around him from his praise. His hands stretched lower to graze his fingers over your ass, they latched onto you, his nails creating deep crevices in the area that would still be there in the morning.

You could no longer think straight, completely drunk off of Kento's cock, filling you up so well you wished he’d never leave. A numbness started to form in your thighs, creating a painful burn as you continued to move up and down, pushing through the pain and reaching for your high. From the hand gripping his hair and the way your walls were spasming, Kento knew you were so close to cumming, you just needed a little push. The brush of his thumb circling your clit leans you over the edge and causes your orgasm to hit you like a wave. Kento groaned loudly as you creamed his cock and gripped onto him like a vice. The man felt kind enough to let you catch your breath, he was still painfully hard and so close to his own high.

“As much as I’d like to be rewarded,” a cheeky smile spread through Kento’s lips, chocolate eyes sparkling at you with excitement. His playful and cheery expression leaves as quick as it comes, you almost whine in protest as he uses his strength to pull you off of his lap, and gently lays you down against the bed. The giddy look in Kento's eyes darkens to a lustful stare as your blown out eyes meet his. “Daddy wants to cum, so be a good girl and help daddy out.”

It hadn’t been longer than a few moments since your climax, you had barely calmed down. Without a second thought, Kento thrusts into your sopping entrance, your cum still coating his dick which makes it easier for him to slide back into your cavernous walls. A cry emmits from you due to the overstimulation. The feeling of being filled up again overtook the discomfort you experienced, it felt so good that you could cry from it, it was as if kento was made to fit inside your cunt so deliciously. The hands on your hips migrate to your thighs, pushing them up so that your knees are almost next to your head. Somehow, the angle of the position allows Kento to hit deeper into you.

“Fu- fuck,” your mind is lost for words as it completely blanks, no longer have the ability to form a coherent sentence.

A layer of sweat covers the blond’s body. The slapping sound returns as Kento's heavy balls hit against you with every rut. It was astonishing that the bed frame didn’t move with his frantic movements. Each thrust of his hips were more calculated than the next, earning a cry from you each time as his cockhead continuously came into contact with your g-spot. Kento knew he’d only be able to last through a few more thrusts. From the way your thighs quivered, your second orgasm was closer than he thought.

“Cum with me angel,” Kento's lips found yours in a haste of teeth clashing against each other, desperate to feel closer to you. As soon as the coaxing words fall on your ear, your walls clench around him as another climax ripples through you, this one hitting you much harder. The tension finally snapped, a growl ripped through his throat, no longer being able to hold back, as ropes of his cum shot inside your pussy, hips faltering slightly.

Your eyes flutter shut from exhaustion, trying your best to catch your breath and calm your erratic heart. Gentle hands help drop your legs so they could wrap around Kento’s waist instead of being folded in the air. Kento noticed the drowsy haze you were in. He took it upon himself to find a towel in the bathroom to clean up the mess between your thighs. Exerting his strength, the stoic man helps you to move into the sheets, the cold air no longer able to nip at your naked body.

“We need to buy plan b,” you shifted yourself close to Kento.

A kiss is pressed to the crown of your head. “We can worry about that in the morning.”

[strwbrryblues]

Misfortunes to Blessings

Pairing: Idol!Lee Felix x GN!Reader

Genres: Fluff, Established Relationship

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: None

Requested | Author's Choice

12 Gifts of Christmas Masterlist

© December 2021, strwbrryblues. All rights reserved.

Felix wondered around the crafts section of the art supplies store he was visiting with Hyunjin. Both boys needing something, however just in different aisles.

The freckled boy looked at the variety of beads and pendants on the shelf. He didn’t actually know what to purchase, or choose. He’d have to ask Hyunjin for help, but the taller boy was quick to zoom in to the oil and acrylic aisle upon their entrance.

Felix chose to make a handmade bracelet for both of you as a Christmas present. He’d remember the last time he made one with Hyunjin and Minho; it was a disaster. But he thought that maybe he’d do great this time.

He scanned the shelf once more, before making the decision that he’d go for your and his favorite colors, and a few matching pendants to choose from later on.

“Hello chick,” Hyunjin popped up from the corner of the aisle, his basket filled with bushes and tubes of painting. The most prominent being the five, big tubes of white paint; three acrylic and two oil. The boy was also hauling 3 giant stretched canvases.

Felix gave the boy a worried look, “You, okay? Do you want me to help you carry that?” In contrast to Hyunjin, the shorter boy carried almost nothing—in terms of weight—in his basket, considering beads and pendants aren’t much of a heavy weight.

“Nah, just letting you know that I’m checking out first.” Before the canvases fell from Hyunjin’s hands, their manager—who gladly accompanied them—came in to take the canvas from Hyunjin’s arms.

“Oh, I actually just finished up. Let’s check out together.” Felix turned to walk over to both men.

When they got back to the dorms, Felix was quick to rush to his room. He cleared out the clutter on his table, putting in new clutter—his bracelet materials.

He started working with picking out the necessary beads. Looking at two different kinds of pendant, he chose the one that complimented the colors that he was going to use.

Cutting out the appropriate length for his wrist as well as yours; he soon got to work with threading the beads.

The work was very nerve-racking for the boy, hos hands finding so much time with shaking, that it took him so long to thread the beads. Once he was done, he tied a knot to the bracelet.

But it snapped.

It felt badly like déjà vu.

He tried and tried again, until it was his fifth time did the elastic thread finally held on together.

He proceeded to the next bracelet and was thankful that it didn’t snap, or else he would’ve cried the whole night about it.

When he was sure that it was not going to snap, he moved on to working with your bracelet.

An hour later and he hears a series of knocks on his door. Trying to cram in what little time he had, he only screamed for the person to come in.

“Hey sunshine,” you greeted, closing the door to his room.

Felix’s eyes grew wide in shock. A shock that made him flinch in surprise at your voice. And due to this action, he accidentally pulled hard on the elastic threads of the bracelet, causing the item to snap and scatter its contents.

He refused to turn and look at you; freezing on his spot. His eyes were all over the place until it landed on the small clock on his desk, reading the time of your meet up here at his dorm room—because he refused to be seen in public with you, not because of embarrassment, but he’d really just have you here privately where only he can see you.

“What are you up to?” You asked.

Right now, his problem was wanting to make you leave, or just lie straight to your face. He can’t do either.

“Lix?” You called for his attention, approaching him when he hasn’t answered your first question. When he still hasn’t answered, you placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping that this will catch his attention.

The freckled sunshine flinched at the contact—almost forgetting your presence, he screamed at the top of his lungs.

His action shocked you, making you scream as well.

“Felix what the fuck?!” You asked, the adrenaline still yet to wear off.

“I’m sorry! You just really surprised me,” He flushed in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands.

You both calmed down, which prompted you to ask him again of your previous question. “What were you up to?” You peaked behind him to see scattered beads, as well as a finish bracelet. “Oh! A handmade bracelet!” You chimed excitedly.

“That’s supposed to be for you,” Felix sadly muttered. He found it no point to beat around the bush, so he honestly told you.

You looked at the cluttered beads, “you want me to…you know…help?” You asked, eyeing the mess.

Truth be told, you loved crafting things, one of them being handmade bracelets.

“But, it’s your gift!” He objected, standing up from his chair.

“Oh, my sweet sunshine,” you chuckled, cupping his face, giving him eskimo kisses.

Felix flushed red, usually used to be the one initiating intimate actions.

“Making things with you, is the best gift I can ever have.” You rested your forehead against his. “We barely have time together, and I’d really love to spend more time with you.”

Felix’s smile grew wide at your statement. He felt the same way. “I’d love to spend more time with you, too.”

Pulling you closer than ever, he gave you a sweet kiss on the lips. Spending the night together, you two huddled at his desk, crafting not only you two’s matching bracelets, but also the other members as well.

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: K+

Genre: Gen?? Sickfic?? mild H/C??? you got me, man

Characters: Caligosto Loboto, Boyd Cooper, Gloria Von Gouton, Fred Bonaparte, Crispin Whytehead, Sheegor

Warnings: Vomit, blood, depictions of sickness... (SPOILERS: implied torture + amputation)

Description: Loboto is having a very bad night. The inmates are not helping.

Beta Readers: @jaywings​ and Rocket

Notes: This fic is based on a theory that comes from a few figments in Loboto’s mental world in the demo footage of Psychonauts 2. ...also I wrote this while sick with a fever, edited it while still sick, and illustrated the cover while recovering from said sickness. have fun

—~~~—

He did not remember arriving back at the tower.

Partially because he wasn't even back in the tower, instead standing on the frosty shoreline, the chilly waves lapping at his boot heels.

Loboto stared dumbly out at the cliffside for a long moment before frustration simmered beneath his fogged mind. Yes! Of course, they wouldn't send him back to his lab. No! He could do with a good climb, especially on a frigid night like this! His chest heaved with quiet, dazed laughter before he took a gasp of cold air that grated against his sore throat.

The wind, though not harsh, cut through every part of him that wasn't covered by his shower cap or lab coat like a fine knife, as cold as it was painful. It grazed his shoulder, and his vision went white as his mechanical eyes flashed. But even with the blasted optics glitching, he could still see. His imagination ran wild with absurd visions of ridiculous things that had never happened.

On top of that, the slice of pain brought with it a violent realization that it was not the only pain he was in. The numb shock he’d been in gave way to an agony that tore through him, ripping up and down his side, nearly bringing him to his knees. No, no, no, that pain could not be real, just like the horrific visions of red and yellow that flashed through his mind. It was all a trick—all a stupid trick from his malfunctioning eyes and his brain. Pah!

He found himself clawing at his shower cap, occasionally stopping to smack his mechanical eyes a few times until they flickered back into focus, the desolate beach snapping back into view. "Enough of this!" he growled hoarsely at the sand beneath him. "That little army man will be back any day now, and we can't keep him waiting."

With a grunt, Loboto marched forward and heaved himself up onto the first narrow ledge, already finding his body shuddering with the effort and his mind struggling to push back the imaginary waves of pain. "Ridiculous!" he blurted into the rock he leaned against for balance. "A child can climb a mountain ten times this height!" And it wasn't like he'd never done it, either. Muscle memory helped him get from one step to the other, but keeping his balance was harder than normal, especially as his mind repeatedly dipped back into brain fog.

His eyes flickered in a blink when he found himself on the ladder, his boot slipping on the frosty wood and one hand losing its grip. Realizing he was about to fall, he flung his weight back against the ladder, biting down on the nearest rung to keep himself in place. A frantic giggle worked its way through his clenched teeth—ah, teeth! Useful for so many things! They would never let him down.

If you let us down one more time—

Ripping himself away from the rung and leaving rough teeth-marks behind, he let out a snarl and heaved himself the rest of the way up the ladder and onto the ledge. He sat on his knees for the moment, his mechanical eyes pulling back as he tried to make sense of the gate that seemed to be spinning around him. No, not just the gate—the entire cliffside spun beneath him like some wild carnival ride. He couldn't remember it doing that before, but the absurdity of it made him laugh, the action tearing through his sore throat. Yet he continued to laugh until his stomach lurched and a cascade of vomit silenced him.

He managed to scoot himself away, spitting and coughing as the world slowly came to a halt. At the same time, a figure that had been sleeping against the opposite wall snapped alert with a panicked gasp.

"Ah—ah!" Boyd stammered, scrambling to his feet and whipping his head around until he spotted Loboto on the ground. "Who are you working for?"

"That fool Oleander," Loboto grumbled under his breath, his eyes swiveling to glare at him.

Boyd's eyes blinked separately before recognition dawned upon him. "Y-yes! Of course!" Fumbling with his keys, he got to work unlocking the gate. "It's said he knows the milkman..."

Gritting his teeth, Loboto shakily began to push himself back upright. A large hand suddenly clapped against his shoulder, and he gave a yell as he was heaved to his feet. Without turning to look, he struck at the one who'd grabbed him. "Tricky terrible traitors try to trap—"

"AH—no, I am no traitor, I am the guard!" Boyd cried, stumbling back and holding up his hands as Loboto found his balance.

The two stared at each other for a tense moment, Loboto's eyes glowing harshly as Boyd trembled beneath his gaze. He couldn't help feeling a twinge of satisfaction at seeing his subordinate cower.

"Th... the milk is not ready yet!" Boyd said, wincing away as he eyed the doctor's clenched fist.

Loboto stared.

"I'm lactose intolerant."

Boyd glanced at something on the ground. "I-I noticed."

With a growl, Loboto finally marched past the guard, who frantically closed the gate behind him.

Now that that mess was over, he could finally get back up to his lab and get back to—

He paused.

"SHEEGOR!"

His voice boomed through the empty grounds. It was empty of people, now empty of crows, and empty of elevators.

When his assistant did not spontaneously appear, he clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white beneath his glove. "Yes! Wonderful!" he proclaimed to no one as he stamped toward the withered garden with a harsh laugh. "I can scale this dilapidated tower myself then. Fine night for some exercise!"

He knew his way through his asylum, of course, so it wouldn't be overly difficult, but he would have much preferred the express elevator so he could get back to work immediately. But as it was, he ducked through the entrance to the greenhouse, fighting to keep steady as the action made his head spin, his back ache (no it didn’t, he was fine), and his shower cap to catch against the branches overhead. Turning his optics up, he pressed a hand down into the cap, pulling it away from the plants. He'd hoped to avoid the woman who occupied this corner of the asylum, but as he straightened his back, he bumped into one of the flowerpots, knocking it to the ground with a dull clunk.

"My, you need to buy seats in advance if you want to come to my shows!" Gloria said, turning to him with a patient, hazy smile. "No need to be harassing the paying customers."

"What do they pay you in? Leaves? Seeds?" Loboto asked, the frantic giggle that followed clashing with his strained smile.

Gloria ignored the comment, glancing him over and waving him off. "Please see yourself out. I'm not an usher, but since they seem to be ignoring their duties, I'll have to tell you you cannot bring food or drink into the theater."

Swiveling his optics in an approximation of an eye roll, Loboto turned away to head out the other side of the greenhouse. "I don't have any."

"Not anymore, but anyone can see that wine you've sloshed onto your nice suit."

Loboto froze.

"It's a wonder it didn't get onto the carpet—"

The next thing he knew, he was staring down at an entire line of flower pots that lay in pieces on the floor of the greenhouse.

"Oh!" Gloria cried. "I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure the ushers will attend to this ruffian, and the play can resume..."

He left her to continue rambling to her imaginary audience as he tried to rid the imaginary nonsense (visions, pain, glowing yellow eyes) from his mind. "Fickle fumbling females feeling faint for fading flowers..." he mumbled as he stepped into the lower floor of the asylum. It brought its usual sights and sounds of one of the former orderlies dozing over a makeshift game board (with stolen game pieces, he noted), the artist in the room overhead scraping old brushes furiously against a canvas, and finally Crispin standing dutifully in front of the asylum's only other elevator.

"Crispin!" Loboto said, and the man turned to face somewhere slightly to his left. "Let me up, will you?"

"Of course, Doctor Loboto." Crispin turned toward the elevator controls, only to pause, his dull eyes squinting as he turned back. "Wait..."

"Wait for what?" Loboto threw out his arm in a wide gesture. "Do you want to hear that army man ranting at us again? Or perhaps you find it funny! Though it is, isn't it? Shouting about sneezing powder and tanks! HAH!"

While he'd been talking, Crispin had been leaning forward, eyeing him up and down. He frowned. "You're not Doctor Loboto," he said at length.

"WHAT?!"

Behind him, Fred sprang to his feet. "Sacré bleu! We have fallen asleep on ze battlefield!"

Ignoring the man and his terrible French accent, Loboto stepped closer to Crispin, finding himself trembling—in rage or in suppressed laughter or something else, he wasn't sure. "Of course I'm Doctor Loboto! I was, last I checked. Highly trained and professional!"

"Yes, well," Crispin began, leaning back and raising a brow, "the real Doctor Loboto does not wear an actual straitjacket. It's merely a strappy jacket fashioned from one."

"This is my jacket, you milky-eyed moron!" Loboto cried, tugging on the front of his coat in demonstration. "It doesn't have my arms tied up!" He lunged toward Crispin to grab him by the collar, but stumbled as the world spun once more. He struggled to keep his stomach from flipping again.

"Well, that's because you're wearing it poorly. But you are certainly not Doctor Loboto. I can tell. You don't have the right jacket, or the right complexion." He tipped his head. "The real Doctor Loboto is blue, not sickly gray. As you can see, you can't fool me. Now go back to wherever you came from and—"

"He has returned from ze war!" Fred blurted behind him. He blinked, then shook his head, hunching in on himself. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, we really shouldn't—" He straightened again. "Yes, shut up! We are in ze presence of a great war hero!"

Crispin rolled his eyes. "What are you going on about now, Fred?"

"Do you not see? He bears ze blood of his enemies upon his robes, and ze scars of victory—"

Loboto whirled on him faster than he could think, managing a swift kick to Fred's shin.

With a yelp, the man crashed to the ground, curling up on himself and whining. "Ohhh... can we just postpone the battle until morning?" He twitched. "NON! Ze enemy never sleeps, so neither shall we!"

"Well, Fred's down for the count again," Cripsin remarked. "So if you're done, kindly step away from my elevator and off the nearest cliff, thanks."

Loboto wanted nothing more than to knock Crispin to the ground and find a few bad teeth to remove, but his vision was blurring and flickering, and he found it hard to think.

"No, really, we can't fight in the dark, and the enemy can't either, can they?" "Rrrrrghhh, I suppose you are right, for once. We shall camp here for now, but come sunrise, we fight!"

A weak laugh made its way past his lips as he stared down at the former orderly settling on the cobblestone. Yes, that crazy man had a point. There was no point in fighting tonight—he'd get his work done in the morning. And that work would have to include getting back into his lab in the first place.

After a brief moment, he snatched an item from the floor before stumbling back through the greenhouse and toward the entrance.

A nice night for sleeping under the stars, he supposed.

---~~~---

Judging by how bright the world was by the time his mechanical eyes flickered back on, the sun was starting to rise. But he couldn't tell for sure when there was a large metal cage blocking his view, with something else within—

"He said he would be back by nightfall, but he hasn't come!" a high pitched voice cried as a familiar form stepped out of the elevator, her back to him. "Oh Mr. Pokeylope, do you think he's gone for good this time?"

The corner of Loboto's mouth twitched.

"Oops!" She clapped an oven mitt over her mouth. "I'm glad he's not around to hear me say that," she said as she began to turn. "If he was, he'd be—EEK!"

Sheegor jumped back at the sight of Loboto laying sprawled out at the foot of the fountain, having slept (or passed out) there the remainder of the night. He clutched his worn teddy close to his chest and stared her in the eyes.

"Oh—I—I—!" Sheegor held her pet turtle close to herself. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry Doctor Loboto, I didn't mean any of that, I—"

"Yes, well it's a nice morning, isn't it?" Loboto grumbled, tucking the teddy bear under his arm so he could push himself to his feet. His entire body ached (from sleeping on the ground, not from anything else). "A nice morning to get some work done after you left me stranded here all night!" He took a threatening—but wobbling—step forward, fist clenched.

Oddly, Sheegor didn't seem as intimidated as usual. Her mouth gaped, and her eyes darted between his face and his right side.

"What are you looking at?"

"Y... you..." A trembling mitt was covering her open mouth. "D-Doctor! What happened to you?!"

His eyes flickered. "I slept out here with a rock for a pillow."

"N-no, it's—it's—!" Her whole body was shaking now, but not, he sensed, in fear of him. It should have made him angry, but exhaustion pulled at him instead, making his frame droop.

"Yes? Well, spit it out."

Sheegor held out one hand, pointed toward his right side. "Y-your arm!"

Loboto's optics slowly angled down to his right. For the first time he noticed the enormous, darkened bloodstains on his jacket, and a torn, empty sleeve hanging limply at his side.

"Oh," he said dully, feeling himself wobble as the pain finally worked its way to the forefront of his mind. "How did that happen?"

At once the world tipped to the side, and Sheegor caught him, straining to keep him from fully collapsing to the ground.

Wordlessly she helped him into the elevator, letting him lean onto her while he bit back the urge to scream. He wanted to protest, to berate her for touching him, but everything felt distant, even the upper floor of the asylum as they rapidly ascended toward it. And anyway, once they reached the top, anything he would have said was held back by his rolling stomach ejecting whatever bile still occupied it.

As he gagged, he could hear Sheegor whispering to the turtle in her mitts: "I know, I know, but I-I can't leave him like that—th-the asylum wouldn't... w-we were supposed to..."

"Just... get back to work... Sheegor," he managed to slur around the acrid taste in his mouth. Bitter bile breaks brittle bones of the mouth.

Sheegor looked from him to her turtle a few times, her mouth wobbling, and carefully eased his arm over her hunched back again. Instead of leading him to his lab, however, she led him down into the asylum, into the usual room he slept in: a mostly-intact bedroom with a mattress and blankets over a broken bed frame shoved into one corner, a chair and a desk with papers scattered across it, and a meticulously crafted and framed (and official) DDS license on the wall.

After easing him down into the bed, Sheegor stepped back, looking away. "Um... I-if you want, Doctor, I can clean that robe..."

His initial thought was that the blood stains made a wonderful addition to his ensemble, but glancing down at them again caused his brain to supply him with more awful, made-up nonsense. No, he wouldn't have that any longer.

With some amount of struggling he managed to get the thing off, unceremoniously tossing it in Sheegor's general direction. She managed to catch it and quickly scurried out. "I'll get this back to you as soon as I can Doctor bye!" she squeaked before the door slammed behind her, leaving Loboto sitting in the empty room.

Everything felt surreal, being in familiar surroundings after spending an entire night on freezing cobblestone. The sight when his gaze turned downward, however, was less familiar: there was new stitching across his chest, and on his right shoulder where his arm had been. It was cleanly done—they hadn't wanted him too much worse for wear, since he still had a job to do for—

Oleander. He had a job to do for Oleander right now. The sneezing powder, yes. His mind drifted over the things they'd discussed in their last meeting.

They'd both figured out a way for it to be made, more or less. The remaining issue was how to properly dispense the stuff. Oleander had suggested keeping it in a bag, but that was easily-spilled, and it may lose potency if pre-ground. But what was he supposed to do? He didn't have a grinder with him on-hand at all times—

A shock of brilliance bolted through him, and he stumbled to his desk with renewed energy. He grabbed a well-chewed pencil and began to write, his non-dominant hand shaking badly as he forced it into motions it was not used to.

But that was fine. It wouldn't have that job for long.

A manic giggle bubbled out of his throat as he worked out the notes and rough sketches, detailing a jointed pepper grinder with claws and a strap to secure it to his now-unoccupied side.

This loss of a limb, baffling as it was, was exactly what he needed.