#note that if you have trouble reading the text of these pages

[lovebittenbyevans]

Fuel In The Fire | Ch. 3

Summary: You had a on and off relationship with Geto Suguru while being in college again. You juggled seeing him when you can until Gojo Satoru came into your life. Things get complicated when you tried to keep the relationship with Geto going and tried to keep a distance from being around Gojo. You began to wonder if you can actually see a real future with Geto or is it too late to moved forward into a new direction

Pairing: F1driver! Gojo Satoru x collegestudent! Female Reader x F1driver! Geto Suguru

Warnings: cursed words, angst

Author note: thanks for the comments I have been receiving. This is Geto point of view.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3

Geto sat in the team hospitality’s suite while the other drivers did their own thing to relax. He was scrolling through his phone looking at pictures on your instagram page.

Sometimes he can’t believe how lucky he is to have you in his life but he also noticed that you still have pictures of you and Gojo together from years ago. He always thought there was something between you two but he blocked it out of his mind.

What was it about him? He always thinks that.

He was looking at some more pictures on your Instagram page when he saw a text message come up on his phone.

You: I can’t make it this weekend.

You: I’m sorry, babe. Good luck

He was about to reply to your text message, but someone interrupted him. “Trouble in love paradise again, Geto?”

Geto looked away from his phone and saw Choso seated next to him on the empty chair. “We are just fine, Choso.”

Choso did not believe him at all. “Are you sure? Because you are looking a bit bitter forsome reason.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I am not bitter.”

Choso shot him a look. “Y/N, not coming this time?” He can read him like a book. Geto was not hard to read unlike Choso who knows him so well.

Geto sighs, feeling annoyed. “It’s fine.”

“It’s fine my ass.” Choso let out a laugh. “I know you G.”

He scoffs and returns to browsing through his phone when Choso speaks to him. “You and Y/N have been on and off for years and I can see the way you look at her. But what about you and that girl, huh?” Choso knew Geto was not just seeing you.

It wasn’t a secret that Geto was seeing someone else while trying to make it work with you for a few years now. Only a few of his teammates knew about her.

“She isn’t anything special.” Geto half-lied.

Choso raised an eyebrow. “If she’s not then why the fuck you keep letting her make a fool out of herself for you?”

Geto stopped browsing through Gojo's Instagram page, where he saw photographs of you on his page, with his attention on Choso. “I am not making her a fool. I just enjoy some extra company.”

“Extra–” Choso trailed off. “The world is going to find out sooner or later.”

Geto huffed, disregarding him, while getting up from the couch and handing his phone to his assistant. “We have a race to do.” He walked out hearing Choso chuckled behind him.

He didn’t have a fear the media was going to find out about her. He truly was worried about losing you to someone else the most.

He continued to stroll down the hall until he collided with someone hard. He glances and sees Gojo in front of him. “Gojo.” He noticed Toji and Nanami behind him.

“Geto.” Gojo clears his throat and walks past him.

Geto nods and says something else. “Snow white bitch!” Gojo stops walking for a second and slowly turns around to look at him. “Excuse me?”

“Oh shit…” Choso said behind him.

Toji and Nanami glance carefully at Geto. “Geto, don’t you–” Gojo interrupted Nanami and jerked his head. “I’m a bitch! Very rich coming from you Geto.”

His voice was getting loud

“I’m just saying leave Y/N alone. She is doing just fine without you.” He says.

Gojo let out a fake laugh. “Oh, is she now?” He took a step toward him. “If she was doing so fine without me. Why you got another whore to keep you occupied until y/n is ready for you again, huh? Why does she see you as a joke and not her man to come home to.”

Geto's blood is boiling as his jaw clenches. “At least I know how to keep my bitches happy and my sunshine in check with where I see them in my life!” Gojo raised his voice a little loud.

Gojo was unaware that Geto's fists had made contact with his face. “Fuck you! Asshole!” Geto attacked him again as he shoved Gojo to the floor and jumped on top of him, punching him repeatedly.

“YOU THINK Y/N NEEDS YOU! YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A SCUM AND A PATHETIC NOBODY!” Geto barked, punching Gojo again.

All he could see was red. He was tired of being treated as a joke and nobody taking him seriously.

“Hey…Hey.” It took Toji, Nanami and Chose to pull Geto off of him. “THAT’S ENOUGH GETO!” Toji hissed.

Toge and Sukuna ran over to help Gojo get off the floor. Gojo began to step forward, but Toge and Takuma held him. “You think I am going to kiss the ground you walk on. You are sadly mistaken.”

Gojo whispers in his ear harshly. “Keep playing with me Geto but know that you haven’t won that easy.” He walked off out the door with Toge and Takuma right behind him.

Geto moves away from Toji and Nanami trying to calm down. “Done making a fool of yourself?” Chose back leaned against the wall as his eyes were on him.

“We have a race to do and you are already ruining your reputation.” Toji shakes his head.

Nanami spoke softly. “For the record you should really seek therapy for all that anger.”

Geto shot Nanami with a disgusting look. “Shut the fuck up, Nan.”

“G, pull your shit together.” Choso moves his hat on his head and walks past him out the door.

Toji and Nanami shake their heads and walk out the door as well. Both of them can’t believe what they just witnessed between two men who are both friends with them.

Two minutes later, Geto stepped out the door and headed to his team garage, where his boss was staring at him and chatting with his assistant.

Shit!

He walked up to them as Christian started to yell at him. “Are you out of your bloody mind!?”

Geto sighs, feeling a slight headache. “He had it coming.”

Christian eyes widened. “Coming? You truly want to live up to your reputation of being a ladies magnet.”

He shrugs. “Boss, it’s not going to affect the team like that.” He was being a total smart ass right now.

Christian chuckled darkly. “You better fix your attitude quickly or you can kiss your career goodbye, Geto.”

Geto was getting frustrated and annoyed. He was starting to calm down when his assistant shoved his phone in his face. “You might want to see this, Mr.Suguru.”

He took a step back and saw what was on his phone. He noticed Gojo Satoru posted a picture with Y/N on his instagram page with a caption. It was a picture of Gojo laying his head on y/n lap with her hand touching his hair.

gojosatoru my sunshine knows I’m not replaceable @yourinstagram

Geto wanted to kill him. He was mad all over again. He grabbed his helmet from one of the employees and mashed it onto the ground.

Everybody paused what they were doing and glanced at him. “Alright, Geto you are not racing today. Go take the day off.” Christian told him.

He didn’t have time to deal with Geto bullshit. Geto took his phone from his assistant and headed inside the building to get his stuff. He packed his stuff in his bag as he held onto his car keys.

He zipped up his bag and walked out the door, hearing the fans scream. The camera crew was following him, but he wasn't concerned. He opened the door to his car and tossed his bag in the backseat.

He got inside his car, closing the door shut after the camera crew walked away. He sat in his car letting out a loud scream.

It was never this deep for him being caught up about a girl. He never acted like this before but now he starts to realize why a bunch of guys act this way over someone.

He turns the key in the ignition and hears the car roar. He fastens his seatbelt as he opens the glove compartment and takes out a flask. “Come to me.” He took a gulp from his flask.

He closed the cover of the flask and began to pump his foot on the gas pedal, speeding away. He kept driving while you were on his mind.

[cantsayidont]

December 1986. In the wake of the Crisis on Infinite Earths, John Byrne plainly expresses the ugly nativist foundations of Superman's new post-Crisis origin. Contemplating the history and culture of Krypton, which he's just received as a massive telepathic info-dump from a hologram of Jor-El, Superman unequivocally rejects as "ultimately meaningless" every single aspect of his Kryptonian heritage, from language to art to religion. Moreover, he expressly denies that he himself is an immigrant. This is not simply semantic; in Byrne's version, the starship that carries Kal-El to Earth is a "birthing matrix" — an in vitro womb in which Kryptonian embryos are grown — so he's not technically born until he lands on Earth and is decanted by his human parents on American soil:

This is actually Byrne's kindest take on the post-Crisis Krypton in this period: His horrifying 1988 WORLD OF KRYPTON miniseries, drawn by Mike Mignola, presents Jor-El's world as a fallen, postapocalyptic society, ruined, both environmentally and morally, by the degeneracy (a word I use advisedly) of Krypton's last Golden Age. Only Jor-El is presented as having any moral worth, and only because of his interest in the traditions and history of Krypton before the fall, which his father and peers (including Lara) consider distasteful. This questioning of modern Kryptonian culture ultimately gives Jor-El the wherewithal to save his (unborn) son from Krypton, both from its actual destruction and from its soulless corruption of natural human values. Yikes!

It's also worth recalling the status quo that MAN OF STEEL erased. Since 1958, Superman had been part of a diaspora of Kryptonian survivors: Besides himself and Krypto (with whom Byrne later dispensed very harshly), there were the millions of inhabitants of the Bottle City of Kandor, stolen by Brainiac before the destruction of Krypton and later enlarged on the distant planet Rokyn; Supergirl, born on Argo City after Krypton's destruction; the prisoners in the Phantom Zone; the Kryptonian bully Dev-Em and his parents (who later traveled to the 30th Century); and Supergirl's Kryptonian parents (who survived the destruction of Argo City and later settled in Kandor). In his Fortress of Solitude, Superman kept a private journal in Kryptonese. His intimates often referred to him as "Kal," not Clark. He observed, to at least some degree, certain Kryptonian customs, and in moments of stress, he would invoke the name of the Kryptonian god ("Great Rao!"). He was, like many members of real-world diasporas, a man of two worlds — neither wholly of Krypton nor entirely of Earth, but part of both, and an interstellar hero.

The Byrne/Wolfman reboot erased almost every facet of that, and very deliberately. Part of this, of course, was a desire to shake things up for commercial reasons, while part was DC's editorial conviction (mistaken, I think) that allowing any Kryptonian survivors other than Superman himself weakened and undermined Superman as a character. However, as the pages above make clear, it was also a desire to slam the door on the idea of Superman as an immigrant — and, by extension, on the Jewish coding that had been a central feature of the Superman comics mythos for nearly 30 years.

[cl6teen]

old habits (die hard) ❀ cl16

in which charles charles has a knack for fucking things up, and you have a talent for slowly letting him back in

find part one here.

contains: social media au, ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader, angsty charles and yn living her best life, toxic relationships maybe, mentions of new partners, charles is a confusing man, charles is a jealous asshole

note: i don’t think this is the final part lmao it’s kinda left of a cliff (if u saw me repost no u didn’t)

your phone 📞

charlie

hey

i miss you

a lot

read, 11:23 pm.

charlie

please don’t be like that y/n

i’m serious

you

charles you literally have a girlfriend

charlie

she’s not my girlfriend

you

do you think i’m stupid? like actually

charlie

no

but she really isn’t, we’re just talking

and hanging out i guess

you

oh my god

charlie

love, you know i miss you

you

yes, because finding another girl right after saying you only want to focus on racing sends me such a great message

you’re confusing as hell

charlie

i know, i really messed up.

i shouldn’t have broken up with you in the first place

but the season was getting so intense and i really want this championship, i thought it would be better for us to put it on pause to save us both the trouble

you

so what’s so different about her that makes her an exception?

charles

alex is easy for me

you

so i’m difficult?

charles

that’s not what i mean

you

no it is what you mean

i’m difficult for showing up to your races and being there when you need me

or when i’m there for you when you dnf? or when ferrari fucks up your strategy?

i was willing to stay friends with you after i did all that and you still broke up with me because i had hopes we would make it work and get back together

charlie

i do want to get back together

you

no you don’t

you moved on so quickly like i was nothing

charlie

you also got with someone too

you

because i didn’t want to look like an idiot seeing all the news after telling my friends i had hope

charlie

yeah but posting him in your bed??

you

so you’re just saying all of this because of that guy i posted?

wtf is your deal charles

fuck you

❀ instagram ❀

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, alexalbon, and 70,331others

yourinstagram larger than life (in madrid)

view all comments

lilymhe oh my god

lilymhe you scandalous girl

yourinstagram oops?

landonorris he better watch his hands

yourinstagram he said “fuck off”

landonorris i’ll punch him in his face

carlossainz55 mariposa 🦋

yourinstagram 🥺

user are these two dating???

4zaferrari no they’re just friends, this is someone else

kikagomes sexy sexy pair 💋

yourinstagram you’re sexier bebe

pierregasly get away from my girlfriend

yourinstagram get off my page maybe?

alexalbon show me the man

yourinstagram no you’ll just steal him

user loved watching your vlog the other day

liked by yourinstagram

user seeing yn happy is so great but i can’t be the only one missing her and charles right??

user where are you going next omg!!

yourinstagram no idea!!

lando.jpg updated their story 1 hour ago

seen by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 1 million others

yourinstagram replied to this story: i did not give permission for you to post this young man!

❀ twitter ❀

your phone 📞

charlie

you put him in your vlog? and you’re still posting him?

are you dating

y/n

are we seriously doing this right now

why are you stalking me

charlie

i’m not stalking you, i just care

fuck just answer the question please

y/n

i’m barely posting him, his face wasn’t in it

and no, we’re just seeing each other right now. yk summer flings i guess

charlie

you know it hurts me to see this y/n, please love

y/n

i don’t care, we’re not together anymore

you texting me is hurting everyone, your “friend” included

charlie

she knows we’re not dating

please just come back to monaco y/n

we can talk face to face

can i call you right now?

you

i’m with carlos and lando

charlie

are you also with that guy

you

yeah

charlie

will you finally tell me who he is?

you

does it really matter?

let’s just talk when i’m back in monaco please

and let me enjoy my vacation in peace

charlie

when are you back?

you

i’ll let you know

charlie

okay

i love you

you

yeah

love you too

❀ instagram ❀

yourinstagram updated their story 10 mins ago

❀ twitter ❀

tags: @1655clean @i-wish-this-was-me @sunny44 @leclercdream

[pedge-page]

What about Joel having to spend a night away for work last minute and reader sulking about it when he gets home and blanking him? 🤣 Cue grovelling from Joel lol

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Late From Work

Notes: I must be too yeehaw American because I had to look up what "blanking" someone meant 😂. Anyway, I had so much fun writing this! Decided to make him late rather than spending a whole night away because lets be real, she'd be serving divorce papers for that.

Warnings: brief oral (f receiving) scene; jealous!Reader, Stubborn reader is BACK

18+ ONLY:

- - - -

He knows he fucked up too. Big time. 

When he said he’d be home at the latest by 7:00pm and it’s now 7:02 and he’s just getting in the truck leaving the site. And when his call goes to voicemail for the 3rd time, and then the fourth time tells him that the number is no longer valid (he’s been blocked), he knows he’s in Big-Fucking-Trouble.

Doesn’t want to call Tommy up for help to coax partially because he wants to fix this own his own, and partially to save Tommy from your wrath you most certainly will take out on him rather than your absent husband.

He grabbed a bouquet of flowers at the grocery store (he’s already in the doghouse so what’s another 5 minutes added to his sentence) and is currently speeding home, a solid 15mph over the limit. Tonight isn’t even anything special: you had both just come back from a lovely weekend trip on the coast and were just settling back in to your house. But when Joel doesn’t deliver on his word, isn’t home for pizza and Pepsi, and sitting behind you while rubbings your back and belly for a quiet movie night…

Well, he’s never been late since the start of your pregnancy. Doesn’t want to think what hellfire you’re going to spit at him the moment he walks in that door.

So here he is about to walk in that door. He takes a big breath, not feeling this anxious since the he proposed to you, and steps in.

He immediately makes contact with you: standing at the end of the hall, illuminated by the kitchen light with your extra extra large T shirt stretched over your belly and dangling loosely around your thighs, hands by your side, barefoot, despite how often he nags at you to wear socks around the house so your feet don’t get cold. He’s thankful to see you hadn’t packed a suitcase, trying to leave the house with a “my husband doesn’t love me” stunt again. 

You clearly had just been walking past when you heard the door, not even fully turning to him but just having your head directed to the entrance the second he walked in. You briefly note the flowers in his hands before your eyes quickly go back to his. He feints an apologetic smile, heart beating so hard. You’re soooo quiet. The calm before the storm.

He gulps hard. 

Instead, you turn forward once more and continue walking towards the living room without a word.

You have a hand on your back as you gently collapse onto the couch. 

“Baby,” he says meekly, voice all tiny yet determined.

You pull your legs up over a pillow and fold open your book.

He comes to kneel beside you, immediately kissing your shoulder.

You do nothing. 

“Baby,” he says more clearly. “I’m sorry, honey. I couldn’t beat the time.”

You flip a page, tilting your head to read the fascinating text on the page rather than listen to your poor husband on his knees for you.

His fights with the sleeve of your shirt. Would you at least look at him? He’s holding the flowers still in his hand, big puppy dog eyes trying their best to plea with you, and with his irresistible pouty lips that get him just about anything he wanted from you. But you only lend him a sigh, flipping yet another page.

So it’s gonna be like that.

"Please, angel. I was tryin' so hard to leave on time like I said. They got the concrete all mixed up and it needed to be set today, was tryin' to get out of there, just couldn't get it moving fast enough, I'm sorry baby I really sped over here fast I can to see ya, couldn't wait a second longer—"

“Oh!” You gasp suddenly.

He’s started, but nonetheless quick to be by you.

You check the clock on the wall and laugh. Time had gotten away from you too. You slam your book and hoist yourself up, on the other end of the couch to avoid his anxious hands fluttering to your aid. You brush past him and start your climb up the stairs.

Joel is right behind you, a bit of hope stirring in him. Its not until you’re walking through your bedroom door—and slamming it right in his face that he gets the message loud and clear.

Perhaps he earned a night on the couch to pray your forgiveness. After finding a suitable vase for the roses, he puffs up his pillow, his back killing him (though he’d never say it aloud while you’re waddling around with a whole 'nother being in your belly for the last few months) and crashes down on the sofa.

He just makes out the light go off under the door in the bedroom before he too is closing his eyes.

Tomorrow brings a new day, and he’s gonna spend every second satisfying his wife. He’s deserves his stay on the couch tonight.

-

He did NOT deserve this bullshit.

It’s been 3 fucking days since he came home late.

3 days of waking up early, trying to kiss his beautiful wife and baby momma with sweet affirmations and praises, which you dodge and continue about your stubborn ignoring-test. He spent all morning cooking every single food you’d craved since your pregnancy started—waffles, French toast, cinnamon pancakes, toast with special mixed fruit jam you can only get at a grocery store an hour away, scrambled, over easy, poached, hard boiled eggs. All arranged so beautifully on the table, even going as far to put the napkins on the left, after you screeched at him a few months ago for haphazardly having them on either the right or left, and never with the fork consistently on top.

He thought he’d learned his lesson, thought he made more than enough up to you, but no. You breeze right by, making a cup of tea, and go back upstairs to your closed door.

Your sadistic mind had given him false hope when you hadn’t locked the door on him on night number two. He slept in his bed, but you had made a clear parry by slotting between the two of you the infernal pregnancy pillow that Joel had kept in storage since you “Much preferred your husband’s plushy belly and soothing rubs.” 

Fat chance tonight.

Every minute he wasn’t telling you how beautiful you are, how amazing you are, how lucky he is, he spends groveling with please forgive me, I’m so sorry, I’m such a worm.

None of it sways you any differently. 

By day 4, he’s given up the sweet talk and grand gestures. Goes for a “think like her” kind of mental approach. 

He tries to bribe you—either making you a Pepsi float, or even bringing home the famous Hot Fudge Cookie Dough Chocolate Gooey Fantasy Milkshake with EXTRA Rainbow sprinkles. But even as he temptingly waves in front of your little wiggly nose, you don’t acknowledge him.

He makes a big show to sigh heavily in defeat, leaving it on the kitchen table alone and trotting helplessly upstairs for a shower.

Less than 7 minutes later he’s come back down to see if you’d given in yet, maybe even telling him what a fantastic husband he is while shoveling your face with ice cream and admitting you were being dramatic. 

Instead, you’re still sitting on the couch, exactly as he left you. Of course, the milkshake cup is completely empty, sucked clean of its gooeyness, and there’s a little splotch of chocolate sauce lingering on your chin you had failed to wipe clean. 

A start, he thinks.

Still though, you don’t pay him any mind, scrolling on your phone with tight lips.  

He wonders how long you could go on with this game.  

It’s honestly a fucking terrible miracle—not even since before you were pregnant had you gone this long shutting the fuck up. But now its horrifyingly eerie, like a curse has fallen upon him and he’s doing everything he can to break it, to bring back your nagging and bitching and whining and crying because it would be so much more relaxing than this new kind of psychotic hell you’ve subjected him to.

He starts getting a little more involved: playing with your body, touching you softly with gentle strokes along your thighs and belly. You hadn’t flinched away, or tried moving to another spot on the couch. 

Which confirmed one thing to him: your horniness and lack of physical attention from your husband due to your stubborn mind was losing your mental battle to hold out against him.

So Joel doesn’t say anything either as he moves his lips over your breasts, down your swollen belly and kissing his babygirl in your bump. He mumbles, “Mommy is awfully mad at Daddy, think I can cheer her up?” 

The baby kicks as if in agreement. His gaze glances up briefly to see if you’re listening.

Your eyes catch and yours quickly dart away, leaning back and pretending to yawn. He snickers before continuing his hot trail of open mouthed kisses until your legs “shift” and “accidentally” part on their own.

He makes sweet, insatiable yet slow love to your pussy, licking a fat strip from your little clenched hole to that hot delicious center that is beyond wet for him—yet another example of how much your body clearly can’t ignore him forever.

But, ever as he brings you to a long needed orgasm, you bite your tongue, absolutely refusing to give him even the slightest sound of satisfaction despite clenching tightly around his thick digits pumping into you. Only letting out a strangled breath through your nose while you stare up to the ceiling, fingers folded across your tummy as if bored. 

He wipes away the slick from his mustache. Hell, even he can admit you deserve an applaud for making it through that without uttering a peep to his skills.

Hurts like hell on the inside though that you’re just that mad still.

He had hoped that being forced to drive with him due to your size preventing you from sitting behind the wheel would corner you into talking him, but even then, as he opens the passenger door for you, you climb aboard and slam the door shut without his assistance.

Now the two of you are on your way to yours and Maria’s weekend brunch. Tommy was also coming to drop his girlfriend off, so it would be a good time to catch him up on this unqiuely-pregnant-you madness.

You snatch your purse and hop out of the car, mood going a full 180 and instantly greeting Maria with a warm hug and perky voice. The two of you sit down at a little table way aways from your idiot husband and brother in law.

Tommy nods him over to the bar and Joel grumbles over.

“She ignoring you?” His little brother asks while shelling peanuts.

“Is it that obvious?” Joel shakes his head. He can’t even leave off with Tommy because he knows you won’t answer his texts asking what time you’re done for pickup. So he’s stuck here to wait for you the entire time.

“You try going down on—“

“Yes! Yes I fucking tried.”

“She didn’t like it?”

“Oh no, she came hard. Wouldn’t even whimper for me when she was clenching her little cunt around my fingers—” he says with an aggressive whisper, his pointer and middle fingers shooting up in the air with wild eyes demonstrating the scene, “—and her little numb twitchin’ on my tongue. Didn’t even fucking moan. She’s a stubborn girl but I don’t deserve that.”

Tommy shakes his head with a chuckle. “Damn. That’s just determination right there. Gotta give it to her.”

Tommy excuses himself with a slap to the shoulder, muttering “gotta take a leak” and disappears to the bathroom.

Joel wouldn’t mind having a drink right now, but know’s he’s gotta stay sober to drive you home. A miserable, silent filled drive once again. He glanced at his watch, following each tick of the hand.

“Hi there.”

Joel almost didn’t address the voice of the woman who had gentle snuck up behind him, moving to take Tommy’s seat. She’s probably a little younger than you, a nice kind smile, inviting and warm towards a stranger. 

Joel politely smiles back with a little nod. 

She offers a sweet “thanks”, a blush creeping on her cheeks before she begins to speak: “Listen, I don’t mean to prude… but I saw you come in and ...I’m usually not so brash—but I was wondering…”

-

Meanwhile, your baby is beat boxing extra hard today in your stomach. You can’t even focus on eating your salad and keeping up with Maria’s chatter about Tommy’s nose hairs all over the vanity. 

Your baby is smart. She knows something is up. You narrow your eyes and look around, finding Joel and company at the bar— 

Except the company he is keeping is NOT Tommy but instead, a gorgeous woman tossing her hair and flashing her pearly white teeth off at your husband, who’s giving her his full attention. She’s giggling with him, taking animatedly with her hands, lingering heavy eye contact and touching his watch as if looking for an excuse to get closer.

You forget about the massive planet sized lump in your belly as you instantly stand up, nearly tipping the table and all its dishes and cutlery over. 

Maria is calling your name but you don’t have the mind to answer, striding over like a bull towards the bar.

-

“Hiiiiiiii!”

Joel and the woman both jump at the harsh shrill of an annoying, high pitched, slightly perturbed but faking a smile, voice screeching behind them—the most beautiful voice Joel’s ever heard…and had missed so dearly this week.  

The woman looks over to you, seemingly startled that you had interrupted the conversation so brazenly.

“Oh, um, hi,” she offers, blinking off your pregnant belly and abrupt appearance.

“This is Joel,” you boast, pointing the shlump of a man in front of her.

“Ah-Hello—“ she smiles again to him.

You add quickly. “He’s my husband.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m his wife.”

“Ah—I—“

“Annnnnnnnd this is our baby!” You boast, proudly rubbing over that enormous swell of your tumtum so she can see in case it wasn’t the biggest fucking thing in this room. “And… you are?” You ask sweetly.

“Um…” she takes one last glance at Joel, his apologetic shrug saying everything then at you, your hard gaze burning holes into her head. “…leaving,” she says towards you.

“Great answer. I like you :) Bye Bye now!” You wave enthusiastically with a chipper voice and a deadly smile. She nods fretfully and pops off the stool, walking away like a threatened animal.

He just chuckles, shaking his head and looking down at his hands with a grin. “Ya know, she just came over to ask where I got my watch.”

“And did you tell her your WIFE bought it?” You ask, poking your finger at his chest.

He has to hide his crooked smile. It’s the first time you’ve directly spoken to him since Monday. “Yeah, I did. She asked where ya got it, because she was looking for one just like it—for her husband.”

Your finger fidgets slightly, expression drawing a blank at the revelation turning over in your mind.

“……………………………………………....................................oh.”

He rotates his stool to face you. You’re steeping in your thoughts, the confidence faltering just slightly in your mind at the realization of how grossly you had interpreted the situation between that innocent woman and your hubby. He didn’t even care, though. All he could think about was how his heart feels 10x lighter seeing you back in your usual, bold, daring, audacious self. All of your attention on him once again.

“I’ll admit, still felt good havin’ ya come to my rescue.”

You scoff, near offended by his words. “Well duh, you’re mine.”

“That right? Even these last few days?”

Yet another bomb goes off in your head at the second realization—that you had forfeited your punishment to ignore him to the ends of the earth.

 You cross your arms defensively anyway. “Well... I…decided.”

“Mmm?”

“That…I needed a back rub. But you clearly you can’t pick up on that on your own so—now I have to verbally tell you.”

“Ah huh. Sure it wasn’t cuz you were jealous? Couldn’t stand me being interested in another woman since my own made it clear she didn’t want me no more? Because my wife decided she couldn’t be patient and wait the extra 13 minutes I was running late before punishin’ me all goddamn week?”

Oh wait—was he really only late by 13 minutes? You could have sworn it was an hour plus!

“That wasn’t 13 minutes! Do you know how to tell time? It was over an hour—“

“Did you set your clock back like I told you to the night before when we got back from the coast, into our own time zone?”

😳

- - - -

Also this is how I see reader getting ate out but trying to be nonchalaunt about it:

conveniently also my favorite shot of Pedro during a photoshoot

Permanent taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[mythrilthread]

My magnum opus, the jewel of my Binderary round-up, the result of four months of hard work (that is to say, a lot of force applied over distance), the project affectionately known as The Motherfuckers (because it was rather unclear if I was going to finish these books or if they were going to be the end of me).

Force over Distance by cleanwhiteroom. It is currently also on AO3.

I was first introduced to this incredible story by a dear friend, who first sold me on actually watching SGU, and then said that they remember this fic since like 2011, which is always a promising sign. I went digging and found out I was in luck - the story was being rewritten and reuploaded on the author's blog. The next two weeks are described by the same friend as "one of the scariest moments in our cohabitation" as I'd spent literally every waking moment injecting the story directly into my eyeballs, and let me tell you, I'd not been doing a lot of sleeping at that time.

Then I gathered up my courage and reached out to CWR re: my burning desire to bind this story. And the rest, well. Let's dig into it, shall we?

This was my first time typesetting 540k words. Considering I tend to prefer larger font sizes for increased legibility, it was immediately obvious that this was going to be a multivolume project. I settled on three, as it's the relationship between three individuals that forms the core of the story.

I also knew I wanted to keep the typeset in black and white, but play around with light and dark a lot. So I did. One of the first design idea I actually had was the way I wanted to handle projected speech. Mental link between Young, Rush and Destiny is THE most vital part of the story, and I wanted to make it immediatly obvious. I also wanted to be able to take one glance at the page and tell how much of the action is actually just two guys staring each other down :) Hence the blackout effect of thoughts being represented as light over darkness.

I also wanted to preserve as much of my reading experience as possible. So I saved all the chapter quotes/summaries in the TOC, and hid the chapter content warnings in the frame of the gate that marks the beginning of each chapter. For most of the chapter the warnings stay the same, so after a while you stop really noticing them, but then you open a new chapter and see that the familiar shape of the words has changed, and get this UH-OH feeling. Which, I think is very much how it works in my design, because when the warnings change there's usually another line of text added.

For flashbacks and dream sequences I switched from italics to a lighter shade of gray. I woudn't say it's more legible per say, but it's in keeping with the overall light/dark theme.

There are instances of people using handwritten notes in the story. I collected more than a dozen of assorted handwriting fonts, with each character having their own "handwriting". So when, for example, someone begins writing in someone else's hand, you immediately know it.

The most insane, labor-intensive part of the typeset, however, was the way I decided to handle the Ancient translations. CWR's gone through the trouble of setting up hover-to-discover for it, which gives you a very different reading experience than, say, having the translations in the endnotes. So, naturally, I said to myself that I want to replicate that, and footnotes just won't do the trick. So. Every instance of Ancient in the text has an underlay of light gray Ancient script. And an OVERLAY of paper vellum with the translation printed in blue. Now, not to toot my own horn too much, but if looks SICK AS FUCK. You also MAYBE SHOULD NOT LIVE LIKE THIS. For the two copies of this work I had to cut up 10 sheets of vellum into strips, and then spent from 20 minutes to an hour per volume tipping the strips in their proper places. I then had to wear kinetic tape on both my hands to help with the joint pain. (It was worth it.)

Now for the title spread. It is also paper vellum that you see as soon as you turn the first page (the half-title), and see it covering the title of the book and author's name. And then you turn it. And the shields sing the matter wave of Destiny through the black. And yeah, I think that's very, very clever of me, actually.

Then, of course, were the endpapers. All 12 of them are unique abstract paintings done on black cardstock by hand with brush pens and correction tape, I scanned a sample of each set for posterity. All of them are my interpretations of characters' midscapes. For volume 1 I went with the fire wind of Rush's thoughts. Volume 2 was for Young, and I went for the reverse blackout poetry effect (because for all the mental talking they do, the unprojected thoughts are opaque to their counterparts) and all the loops, hairpins and blocks he does. Volume 3 is for the combination - Rush's fire wind, changing its color to match the circuitry pattern of Destiny's AI.

The rest, in comparison, is easy. All volumes are stitched with 3 strands of embroidery floss, a combination of black, blue and silvery-gray. The French double-core endbands are sewn in the same color scheme (though with a different shade of blue and gray switched for white for added contrast). The edges are painted and splattered to look like space.

The covers feature my (signature at this point, I guess) half-cloth river pattern, with the base being dark blue linen and the printed parts being Spitzer telescope images of the W51 star forge, Jack-O'-Lantern Nebula and the Eagle Nebula (courtesy of NASA), waxed by hand for added sheen. The spines are foiled in silver with a foil quill.

Each set is 5 pound of solid hand-crafted book, with one set being my personal copy, and the other sent as a gift to the author.

And that's it, folks! This has been an incredible project to work on, and I'm very proud of what I achieved with it.

[sugardreamshk]

Nightmare NariLamb Comic

Here's all the pages of my Nightmare comic! Be warned there's CoTL spoilers as well as abuse, blood and gore!

If you're having troubles reading the text on the pages you can check out this google doc which has all the text typed out and some extra notes.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/16E0AF3Iu-ow1b696yiPW7kRm-IfeTwIkZWAxRjMAYMw/edit?usp=sharing

The End

[azulpitlane]

got love stuck part 3 please i’m begging it’s so good i need it

out of the woods I ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader, exbf! mason mount x reader summary: in which lando has to communicate his insecurities but is he too late? notes: ask and you shall receive, this one took a while cause I had it all written out then I hated it and started over😇but this is the last part!! i loved making this thank u for being so supportive considering part one was my first ever post!! now send some requests hehe part one, part two, masterlist

lando i fucked up, its too late

danny ric what do you mean its too late?

lando i texted her and no response she went to dinner with mason tonight they're probably still together right now

danny ric okay so you're jumping into conclusions AGAIN you have to have some faith in her mate and stop assuming the worst

lando she was with her ex after our breakup what am I suppose to do?

danny ric communicate, you muppet you can't just give up after one try

lando okay okay you're right, i was overthinking im booking the next flight to london

danny ric um i was thinking maybe a phone call?

lando too late, already booked it

dailymail

102,339 likes

dailymail Trouble in paradise? Singer Y/n Y/l/n and F1 driver Lando Norris reunited in London today. Onlookers claim the two were having a heated conversation about their relationship and it is unclear whether the two are currently together or not. Was this argument result of Y/l/n's infidelity? The singer was spotted twice within this month with ex boyfriend, Mason Mount. Read more on the singer's relationship timeline with Mount and Norris in our article linked in the bio.

view all comments

user yes lets just make assumptions that y/n is a cheater based on nothing🙄

user if lando took her back ill be so mad. shes so toxic

user you have no idea what shes like in real life? you're just basing your opinion on some stupid tabloid that constantly spreads misinformation on her

user WAR IS OVER (THEYRE STILL TOGETHER IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS).

user YUP Y/N AND LANDO DEFENDER TIL I DIE user SAME IM CONVINCED SHE NEVER CHEATED IDC IDC

user this doesn't even look like a heated argument to me?? y'all be doing too much

user please let this be just a friendly conversation and her and mason got back together☹️

user its been a year, I think its time to move on from that relationship user yup!! shes clearly moved on y'all need to do it too user her relationship with lando has been messy from the start, she never had to deal with this drama with mason that's all im sayin

user this page is obsessed with y/n!! leave my girl aloneeee

yourusername

liked by landonorris, masonmount and 5,283,239 others

yourusername out of the woods out now.

view all comments

selenagomez on repeat already💙 liked by yourusername

user WAIT WHOS THE GUY IN THE LAST SLIDE

user HAS TO BE LANDO user praying its mase but I have a feeling its lando☹️

user the way these lyrics can apply to both mason or lando so we have no clue who its about🧍‍♀️

user and they both liked aghhhh!!!!

danielricciardo amazing song, so so proud liked by yourusername

francisca.cgomes can't stop listening im obsessed😍 liked by yourusername

user okay danny and the wags are all commenting this is a good sign for us lando and y/n defenders

alexandrasaintmleux you're so talented I love it!! liked by yourusername

user y/n dropping this after being seen with lando again, I think its time for us mason defenders to retire :(

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 920,482 others

landonorris want you for worse or for better, would wait forever and ever tagged yourusername

view all comments

user YES WE CAN FINALLY SAY WAR IS OVER

user I KNEW IT YES

yourusername and that's how it works💙

user these are definitely song lyrics AHHHH user landos listened to the new album omfsgnks user new album is gonna be mix of love and breakup songs with the drama methinks

user MOM AND DAD ARE DONE FIGHTING

maxfewtrell sap

user careful lando, once a cheater always a cheater

user where is the proof of her cheating?? there literally is none user they literally broke up after she was seen with mason user give up this narrative already!! her and lando are clearly happy together so who cares

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 7,284,234 others

yourusername these past few weeks have felt like a crazy, emotional train wreck but there's nobody else I would've rather done it with than my best friend and lover💙 i usually never address anything like this but there are somethings that aren't easy to shake off especially when it comes to my relationship and my loyalty being questioned. there has never been somebody who has been so perfect for me and i would never trade this love for anybody elses. i could go on and on about it but i find it easier to communicate through music.

my new album is out tonight at midnight, it is a collection of songs written from last year to now. interpret the songs as you like but just know there is only one person im in love with right now.

view all comments

user OMFG WEVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

user she just nicely told all mason x y/n supporters to stfu

user not only that but she beat the cheater allegations🙏

user THIS IS SO CUTE WHAT

user "would never trade this love for anybody elses" IMCRYIN

landonorris love you so so much, dont know what I would do without you

yourusername lan love u more🥹 user AWWW user nobody can be a mason x y/n fan after this cause they are too cute

landonorris this album is amazing, im so incredibly proud of you and everything you've been through liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 very excited for this one liked by yourusername

masonmount this was very well said, congrats on the new album!! liked by yourusername

user OMG? user in their besties era omdfsnkln user I knew they were just friends through all this!!!

user okay officially retiring the mason x y/n agenda..it was a good run

user def the end of an era but our girl is happy🫶

user now that the drama is over can we focus on how good this album is gonna be

user fr the drought is officially over

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbff and 3,232,325 others

yourusername the love for my new album has been insane, thank you guys so much!! so many records broken just on the first day of the release and i couldn't have done it without you guys💙

now it is time to hibernate for a little bit and spend some much needed time off with my loved ones so this is a lil goodbye... for now!

see ya later

view all comments

user NO COME BACK

user gave us some lando content before dipping, thank u mother

user she took 'I know places we won't be found' to a whole different level because nobody can find out where theyre vacationing

user good!! they need some privacy after this messy drama

landonorris got you all to myself now

maxfewtrell gross yourusername perv

kellypiquet ❤️‍🩹 liked by yourusername

user but will we see you at the paddock next season🥹

yourusername ofc!! catch me rooting for my babyyy

user what a crazy era. hopefully well get some performances and lando supporting after this break

landonorris will be front row at every show user wag and rockstar's bf. try not to say parents challenge omg user can't wait for the content of them supporting each other at races and concerts ahhh

yourbff pls dont make me an auntie soon im too young

yourusername okay im officially logging off.

tags: @jayrami3 @whoselly @roseseraj @saturnbloom77@landowecanbewc

[lisenberry]

The mountain is you

Ch. 2 - I don't know what it is that I'm climbing to

~2.4k

E/MDNI/18+

CW: BDSM negotiations, dom!Price, dom!Ghost, pain play

(Chapter 1, Chapter 3)

It’d been a while since John had spoken to his former lieutenant, and even longer since he’d seen him.  The last few years had passed in a fog, so it was a shock when he saw the familiar number come across his phone.  He only briefly hesitated before answering. 

Soap and Gaz texted him all the time.  Links of foolish videos on the clock app, and pictures of mysterious rashes on their body parts that they needed help identifying.

But Ghost wasn’t one to waste anyone’s time.  Whatever it was, it was important.  And as it turned out, he had a proposition for him.

“You need a project, Cap.  Something to keep you sharp.”

“Are you worried about me, Simon?”

“We all are.”

John had been the one to start Life Connect 141.  An opportunity that gave the lads a place to channel their post-combat restless energy in a way that wouldn’t get them a murder conviction or a stint in a maximum-security psych ward.  It kept them together as a team and gave them a purpose.  And the opportunity to launder some of the not-quite-above-board money they’d liberated over the course of their travels.

Some veterans of special ops worked with rescued pit bulls.  Others started fitness programs, backpacking guide schools, and preparedness training facilities.

His boys filled their own rewarding niche.  Even after John’s departure, the company had flourished and from what he could tell, they were all staying out of trouble.

Judging by Ghost’s concern, he was the one who was floundering.  A marriage to the wrong woman, and the subsequent messy divorce, had left him dangerously adrift.  He’d thought about returning to the work, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore.

“Just meet her.  Trust me.  You can decide then if you’re doing me a favor, or the other way around.”

And he did trust Ghost.  With his life.  And if anyone had been keeping track, he imagined the scales were just about even between who owed whom more.

In the end, he agreed to the meeting.  For no other reason than to see for himself what had one of the toughest, most resourceful bastards he’d ever known seeking his expertise. 

They’d been at the table for a half hour, going over your file and discussing the particulars when John glanced up to catch his first impression of you.  A breezy blouse and a long, colorful skirt.  You looked around the outside seating area but didn’t see them.

Or more likely, you didn’t recognize Ghost without his mask on, judging by the surprised laughter that met his ears a few seconds later.

“Ah, dove.  There you are.”  Simon grinned as he stood, pulling you into a friendly hug. 

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve never seen you without the mask before.  I’m trying to reconcile the picture in my head.  I’ll try not to stare.”  An endearingly warm smile lit up your face.

You weren’t at all what John had pictured, either.  He’d clearly have to adjust the conclusions he’d reached based on your file.  He’d read about your stressful, demanding job, your high intelligence and predilection for punishment, and he’d imagined someone harder.  Colder.

There was a notation in the margin on one of the pages that had stood out as well. 

Daddy issues??? Undisclosed but probable.

He made his own note to inquire further, suddenly anxious to know everything there was to know about you.

“The mask is an improvement, don’t you think?” Ghost shrugged.  Was he actually blushing? 

Surely it was just the heat of the sun or a trick of the light.

“It has its charms, but you have a very honest face.”  The way you laid your hand reassuringly on his lieutenant’s arm made John clear his throat and offer his own hand in greeting.

As cute as your connection was, you were there for him, and he noticed the way you’d nervously avoided meeting his gaze.  The way you’d chosen to cling instead to Simon, the devil you knew. 

He had no desire to forcibly extricate you from your bond with your previous Dom.  That wasn’t how it worked.  At best, John could match it.  Slowly.  If he did his job right, in time, you’d come to look at him with a similar trust.

“Nice to meet you,” your eyes finally flitted to his as he took your cool, smooth palm into his own. 

It was then that he felt it.  The twitchy, fevered thrill of a worthy mission.

“So, what does that file say about me?”  You sipped your pint, finding your throat suddenly dry and your forehead warm, and in need of something to do with your hands. 

Ghost had excused himself a short while before, after making the introductions and sharing a few stories of his and John’s time working together.   

You’d found being alone with him to be...intense.  He seemed impenetrable.

He didn’t look down at the folder, and kept it closed on the table.  His pen held between his two hands, contemplative and resolute.

“That you’re a pain slut.  With a high tolerance.”  His voice didn’t rise above his gruff, conversational tone, and you didn’t bother to look around at your fellow patrons seated near you.  With the din of the restaurant, they wouldn’t be able to hear.  “Does that bother you?”

“No.  It’s the truth.”  You didn’t have anything to hide.  Not from him at least.  Not if this was going to work.

“What is it about pain that you seek out?”  He crossed his arms over the table and leaned in closer.  Biceps bunching under his t-shirt.  Ghost had always worn a suit.  John looked like he came from a construction site.  Unshaven and slightly dangerous.

You didn't hate it.

“When it’s done right, there’s a moment right before it gets to be too much that my body starts to fight back.  As if to say, ‘Go on, I dare you.  Is that all you’ve got to give?’  And just then, right before I give in and quit, it’s the most powerful I’ve ever been.  The most alive.”

“It’s the rush then, is it?”  He studied you like a therapist.  And you felt like a patient.  Only this therapist’s job was to tie you up and make you cry.  And come.  And cry again.  The thought made you shudder inwardly with anticipation.   

“It doesn’t work for all pain.  It’s not the blood or the risk of injury.  I don’t get off at the thought of the dentist...” you trailed off with a light laugh, finding it easier to talk to him about this than you'd thought. “But sometimes, the more helpless I am, the stronger it feels.  There aren’t too many things you can do without thinking about it.  Against your will.  Beating, breathing, feeling.  There’s a freedom in it.  Again, if it’s done right.”

“You don’t like to think, then.  You’d rather be surprised?”

“I don’t mind surprises.  I like them, actually.  We don’t have to negotiate everything ahead of time, so long as it feels right in the scene.”

You finished off the last of your pint and smoothed the napkin that had caught to the condensation on the bottom.  A first date, a therapy session, and an interview all in one.  And yet it didn’t fill you with the same anxiety as it should.  It could’ve gone wrong in a hundred different ways, and yet the more you confided, the more you relaxed. 

“Talk to me about these hard lines.”  He opened your file, skimmed it, and moved his pen back and forth as if he was underlining something boldly.

“Always be honest with me about what you’re going to do.  Don’t play games or make me have to choose something in order to please you.  Keep me engaged, but if I have to make a decision it will take me out of it.”

“That’s important to know, thank you.”  He made another note on the page.  “It also says no choking, but with an asterisk next to it.  Care you elaborate?”

“When I was little, I had terrible asthma.  Life threatening at times.  It’s under control now, but not being able to breathe, or even the threat of it, doesn’t...” you paused, searching for the right word to convey your biggest fear, “arouse me.  Let’s just say.”

“I understand why it wouldn’t.”  No sympathetic indulgence, thankfully, just a solid nod of support. 

Could he relate?  You wondered what hard lines he had.  You couldn’t imagine anything scaring him. Ghost had reacted the same when you’d had this discussion.  No questions, no bargaining.  Just respect for your vulnerability.  Surprising, from two men who seemingly had none themselves.

It prompted you to delve in further, and leave no room for misunderstanding, just in case.

“No collars, no ribbons, bows, belts, neckties, your hands, anything please.”

“Neck is off limits.  Noted.” 

“You can still kiss me there, if that’s something you like.  Or you can slap me, to get my attention.  And if you need to move me around or hold me down, you can grab my hair.”

You punctuated the last with a helpful smile and a shrug of your shoulders.  His gaze seemed to find your neck then, perhaps contemplating what it’d be like to kiss it.  Did the thought bring him as much excitement as it did you?

“Fair enough.”  A contented grunt was all you received in response.

“You said that this would be a reciprocating agreement.  What do you want from me?”  The question that had been on your mind since Ghost had called you.

With him, you just paid him money.  That was your end of the deal.  Without payment, that left too much to your imagination and you’d let it run a bit wild. 

“I’ll tell you what I want, and when I want it.  Is that clear?  I won’t ask for your permission, and you’ll never have to wonder what I’m thinking.  I don’t hear yes and no, or green and yellow.  Red means take a break and try something else, and the safe word is a hard stop to call it a day.”

“Understood.  Thank you.”  It was a plan you could definitely work with.  “But what about you?  What do you hope to get out of this?”

“I like to be in charge.  Take care of things.  And do the hard things that need to be done.”

“And who takes care of you?”  A simple question, but he seemed to bristle at it.  Perhaps you’d pushed him too far, too soon. 

“Good little girls who listen and behave.”  He adjusted himself in his seat, straightening as if to get back some control.  “Let’s talk punishments.  No spanking, obviously.  You’ll enjoy it too much.”  His eyes seemed to darken in both amusement and desire.

No doubt proud of himself for changing the subject and redirecting the friendly interrogation.

“Hopefully I won’t displease you, but you could ignore me.  That will make me rethink my attitude real quick,” you replied, with an answering grin.

“Ignore you?  I think that would hurt me more than you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.  You liked that.  Probably said as much with the flood of heat to your cheeks and the breathless giggle that sounded so foreign to your ears. 

“I think we’ll get along just fine...John?”  You questioned what name he wanted to be called.

“Sir.  Just sir.”

On the day of your appointment, he texted you the location and the key code for the door lock.  You found the building easily, and stepped into the elevator, double checking the apartment number to be sure you were in the right place.

When the code worked on the door to the fifth floor, you entered to find that it was someone’s home. 

The office of Life Connect 141 was in a nondescript office space on the outskirts of Canary Wharf, not far from your office.  If anyone spotted you, you could use the excuse of taking a meeting or doing your due diligence on a property you were looking to liquidate.

This, on the other hand, was well off the beaten path.  A restored factory building in a neighborhood you weren’t familiar with, but appeared to be up and coming judging by the activity along the street.  You’d already noted a few restaurants to try on the short walk from the Tube station and filed them away to pick up something to eat on your way home. 

A flat of this size and builder quality must have cost a premium, or else the owner bought in cheap before the neighborhood began to blossom.  It was well-appointed and comfortable.  Floor to ceiling windows that opened to look just above the shorter buildings next door.  Privacy from looking directly at your neighbors, but still connected to the bustling down below.

Once inside, you followed his directions to the letter.  You’d arrived early, dimmed the lights and set your bag on the hook by the door.  Cell phone ringer turned off and your shoes in the basket in the hall.

"I’ll leave what I want you to wear on a chair, you’ll know which one.  Wear nothing else.  There will be a pillow on the floor, you’ll know which one.  You’ll greet me on it."

As you moved in past the entryway, the remaining room was an open concept.  A kitchen with an attached dining area, and a living space on the opposite side.  Two plush sofas and an assortment of chairs and tables.  You didn’t know what to expect.  A pleasure room, maybe, or a dungeon of racks and toys.

It was just a living room.

Any nerves you’d been holding onto dissolved when you spotted the fabric draped across the lapis lazuli velvet wing-backed armchair.  Was that going to be his seat?  It was large enough to hold both of you comfortably...if you were on his lap.  It was certainly a statement piece.

The outfit he’d chosen was a simple, pink silk backless slip dress.  Not cheap satin, but the softest, sheerest gossamer.  You shivered as you stripped from your street clothes and gently settled the confection over your skin.  It barely covered your ass as you folded your things and hid them out of sight.

You briefly warred with whether to leave your hair up or down, deciding on the former, before you finally took a deep breath to center yourself.  Whatever happened next was out of your control.

When your knees met with the pillow at the foot of The Chair, your mind emptied and you felt the tension that you’d been carrying for weeks start to fade.  

Just in time to hear the click of the front door.

[loupy-mongoose]

Note: For the sake of differentiation, Nico's text will be bold, while Randy's will not.

If there's any trouble telling anyone else apart, let me know, and I'll see what I can do to make it clearer.

Also it is. VERY long. So to the Read More zone it goes!

Enjoy. :)

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

~~~~~~

The Mews-in-human-form and Nico stepped carefully around the debris of the mansion floor. Lav, who had their bag on her human form, had transformed so they could grab a flashlight out of it. Now she had returned to Mewtwo form and floated around excitedly, taking in the sight of the neglected remains of Nico's birthplace.

Randy held the light in his left hand, while his right tightly gripped his cane. Akoya walked close to his side, her hands in her jacket pockets.

Daddy, stop shining at the floor! I wanna see what's around!

Not until your mom transforms and I don't have to worry about her stepping on something.

I'll be fine, Love! I can handle a few pebbles here and th--YEAHK!

She suddenly hopped away from Randy, inspecting her foot. Randy gave her a snide look.

Fine. She rolled her eyes before shifting. A split-second flash later, she was a Mew. She hovered over and draped herself on Randy's shoulder.

Content that his wife would no longer step on things, he looked at Lav. Here, Hon. You can hold this if you want. Seeing that he had her attention, he tossed the light her way. She telekinetically caught it and brought it to her hands.

Thanks Daddy! She smiled as she went around the room with the light. Nico followed after her, and Randy trudged behind.

Nico... Lav spoke after looking at charred walls, flooring, and rubble around them. Is this the place you destroyed? The one from that memory that woke me up?

It is, yes...

Akoya chimed in from her perch. It's a wonder nobody's bothered to fix it up after all this time.

Well, the volcano eruption kinda got in the way of that. I guess nobody saw any point afterword...

Randy glanced upward, wracked by a sudden chill. It feels like the ceiling could come down at any moment...

Akoya nuzzled her husband's cheek. We'll teleport out if anything happens, Love.

Still feeling shaken, Randy raised his hand to her and brushed his fingers through her fur.

He hoped against hope that the Mewtwos--especially Nico--couldn't sense just how right Akoya had been.

He needed her support.

And not the way his cane could provide.

This place filled him with dread. It was too... familiar... Every once in a while he caught a whiff of smoke and burned things. He could just make out the cracks in the ceilings and walls. He heard the occasional faint creaking of the dilapidated building.

He was almost glad it was too dark to see clearly.

The pain in his legs hadn't let up since they came here. He did his best to hide it from the 'twos, but he know it was futile to hide it from the little blue cat on his shoulder

She clearly knew.

And he endlessly appreciated it.

They walked along, chatting and looking through the debris. There were a lot of books in there, but most were burned beyond recognition or reading, or just boring scientific observations and notes. Wild Pokemon skittered about, too frightened by the strange intruders to engage with them.

Lav picked up yet another book and skimmed through it.

Oh!

Randy looked at her as she approached him. He could feel her buzzing with excitement.

She handed the book to him. It's Mr. Fuji's!

A spark of curiosity coursed through him as he took the book. Nico came over, his eyes shining in the gloom. He read over Randy's shoulder.

Wow... He flipped slowly through its pages. It... it goes through your growth, Nico...

Nico tilted his head, eyes filled with an almost child-like shimmer. Cool!

He flinched back as Randy handed the book up to him. Here. It's about you, so you should have it.

After looking at it for a moment, Nico shook his head and gently pushed it away. No. It's Fuji's. You should take it back to him when you return.

After a moment, Randy gave a smile and a slight nod before stuffing it into a pants pocket.

They continued their impromptu tour of the mansion.

Eventually...

They came to the back portion.

The floors and walls had sustained significant amounts of damage. Walls crumpled to the floor, creating larger rooms than once were. The floors had large holes, leading down into the basement below. Light streamed in from gaps in the ceiling.

Akoya floated off Randy's shoulder. How 'bout that! A shortcut to the basement~

As they all started heading into the nearest hole, Randy transformed without a second thought... until he noticed Nico looking at him in somber shock.

Randy know what he was thinking, and gave him a sad look.

So... that's... what my dad looked like, huh?

Randy's eyes grew somehow more weary than they were. ...Pretty much, yeah... He never looked this exhausted though...

The basement was worse off than the floor above, dimly lit by the sunlight. It was clear walls once stood, but now the area was just one large room, with a few pillars-that-were-once-walls being the only support for the tattered building above.

Along the back wall of the basement...

Was a set of cylindrical tanks.

The group hovered over to them, not wanting to step on the sharp debris on the floor.

Shattered glass and old dust carpeted the area. A small keypad protruded from the front of the center tank, and two more of the tubes stood behind on either side, and forward of those were two large computer casings.

The area was stained with old burn marks, while plant life had grown in. It was almost serene, lit by the rays of persistent sunlight.

Randy floated over to the skeletal tanks.

...Mo has been here...

Randy...

The long Mew turned to Nico.

Can... Can I ask you something...?

Did... Did Mo ever talk about me?

Randy took a moment to think.

...I think he wanted to...

Akoya looked at him questioningly.

Right b-before... He shut his eyes, trembling, trying to break free of his dread.

Oop.

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

[fallow-hollow]

Heyo! I came by to ask if it’s possible that you could write a Chilchuck x non binary! Reader who has a stutter and hasn’t gotten any help for it since childhood? Like not being able to say sentences properly without suddenly pausing by accident and having moments where the reader struggles on just one word? It’s mostly because I have irl and I don’t see a lot of books about readers that have a stutter as I think it’s used mostly to be cute or uwu- so maybe Chilchuck could try to help them?

cold reading

ft… chilchuck tims x nonbinary! reader

tags… pre-relationship, pining, reader has a stutter, fluff

word count… 882

notes… hope i did a good job! i had a friend who stutters be my beta reader to make sure i did alright, but further notes are always welcome! also fun fact, a ‘cold read’ is a read through or performance of a script or text with no prior practice, so i thought it would make a cute title !!

This may have been your idea, but you were already starting to have some second thoughts about this plan.

Chilchuck was well aware that you often had some trouble speaking, but it was never something he wanted to intervene on without your permission. The man had his own fair share of experiences being babied by those around him, so the last thing he wanted to do was belittle you by acting as if he knew more about what would help you than you did. So, naturally, reaching out about wanting assistance was up to you.

If there was anyone you trusted to help you with this vice of yours, it was Chilchuck. It wasn’t even that he himself was particularly well spoken or collected — no, it was your trust in him from a personal perspective that made it so easier to confide in him. The two of you had always been pretty good friends, and plus, it was rather nice how he never judged you for things you couldn’t control.

Truth be told, seeking help from someone like Falin likely would have been equally as helpful, but if you had to be honest with yourself, you also just enjoyed spending time with the man. Something about his presence put you at ease, despite the standoffish demeanor he had most of the time.

That’s how you found yourself here, trying to read from a book while he sat patiently beside you.

However, this may have been far less embarrassing for you if the book you borrowed for this little practice session wasn’t one of Marcille’s romance novels.

“She tr- trekked across th- across the muddy dirt path, her, her boots… boots covered in…..” Even when reading completely inoffensive narration, you still tripped up on certain consonants and found yourself repeating certain words. Sometimes, you’d even lose your place or space out, and end up unconsciously repeating the end of a word when you ‘picked up where you left off’, so to speak.

Chilchuck stayed silent, of course, not wanting to be rude by calling you out or correcting you in the middle of your sentences, but the long periods of yourself speaking and nothing else did make you feel rather awkward at times. After you sighed and shook your head, signifying that you had given up, he allowed himself to speak.

“Maybe try reading some dialogue instead. It could feel more natural if it’s something you could say to an actual person instead of just narration.” At his suggestion, you nodded, letting your eyes scan the page to the closest piece of dialogue you could find.

…Ah.

Well, it wasn’t that embarrassing. Compared to the other things one might find in a novel like this, it was really rather tame. Yes, you could make this work.

When you glanced up, the half-foot was still meeting your gaze, looking as if he had something to say. You murmured a quick “Yes?”, to which he responded promptly.

“You’ve mostly been looking at the text while you’ve been talking.” One hand gestured briefly to the book you were holding. “I dunno if this is the case, but focusing too hard on the written words could trip you up.”

The statement did ring true, at least somewhat. You’d been very fixated on matching the written words to the pronunciations in your head so as to not mess them up, but maybe that was contributing to this unnatural sort of feeling you’d had while you were reading. Talking to Chilchuck certainly did help you calm down most of the time, so maybe you’d feel more relaxed if you tried that instead.

He didn’t directly tell you to, but you chose to look at Chilchuck’s face while you talked. After reading the words and trying to internalize them the best you could, looking at him was almost a way to relax your eyes. Without focusing on a particular point or feature, you let yourself just… take him in. Register that this was the person you were speaking to. Allow the words to be fully and wholly directed at him.

In hindsight, the method may have been a bit too effective, judging from how the sentence came out almost immediately and with great fervor,

“You have no idea the lengths I’d go to just to see you!”

Hey, why did the man across from you look ever so slightly pink…?

Oh.

“Oh no, no I’m so- s-so sorry! Sorry!” Your hands shot up in an apologetic yet defensive behavior, which seemed to ease Chilchuck’s nerves, judging by the small laugh he let out.

With a wave of his own hand, he responded, “You don’t need to be. Just surprised you’d get so bold all of a sudden.” He then shot you a wink and a point, something that threatened to make you melt entirely. So easily could he touch your heart, yet at the same time it was hard to falter when he smiled at you like that.

“Did a good job on that one, though. Sounded great!”

Either way, if you can one day manage to speak your true feelings to him, then maybe you’ll be able to say all the other things you want to as well.

“Tha…thank you, your help, it, um… it really means a lot.”

[mintsbubbletea]

𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨 - 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬

Word Count: 1,252

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader, No pronouns used. Blood, kissing, cursing not sure if I missed anything

Proof read and Edited

Sitting at your desk in your dorm room, you immersed yourself in the soft melodies playing in the background while diligently jotting down notes on how to enhance your quirk. Each page was filled with valuable information shared by your mentor, and you found that writing them down helped etch them into your memory. Suddenly, a loud and abrupt knock shattered your concentration, causing you to snap out of your bubble. You turned your head towards the door and called out, "Come in."

The door burst open, revealing a flustered Denki who seemed to be rambling incoherently. Amidst his jumbled words, you could only make out something about a fight and blood, but it was clear that the teachers couldn't find out. Concerned, you stood up and walked towards him, only to be joined by Tsu entering the room. "Hold on, Denki. Who's hurt? What happened?" you asked, trying to piece together the situation.

"It's Midoriya and Bakugo. They got into another fight, kero," Tsu explained, her voice filled with worry. Denki chimed in, his rambling now replaced with a more composed tone. "It's pretty bad. There's blood all over the floor, fists flying, and explosions everywhere. It all happened so fast, and we barely managed to pull them apart," he revealed.

Confused, you questioned, "What does this have to do with me? Shouldn't we be getting Recovery Girl?" As you reached for your phone to text your grandma, Tsu hesitated before responding, "Well… we can't. We wanted to ask if you could use your quirk to heal them. This is their third fight, and Mr. Aizawa warned that if he catches them in another one, they'll be in serious trouble, kero."

Everyone in UA knew one thing for certain: you were the granddaughter of Recovery Girl. It was common knowledge that you couldn't heal major injuries like she could, considering her years of experience, but you had the ability to mend cuts, bruises, and other minor injuries to some extent. Your father, who was also a healer, had been teaching you alongside your grandmother since you were little.

You had used your quirk to assist your classmates before, but never to conceal something significant from the adults. "So you want me to keep this a secret from Mr. Aizawa and my grandma?" you questioned, releasing a sigh. Deep down, you knew you would eventually give in and help. Both of them looked at you with hopeful eyes, pleading for your assistance. "Alright, let's do it."

"Thank you, Y/n! You're amazing," Denki exclaimed, patting your shoulder. The three of you then headed towards the lounging area, where Deku and Katsuki sat in separate seats, each holding ice on their hand or nose. Several of your classmates surrounded them. "Thank goodness you're here, Y/n. We didn't know what else to do," Momo said, stepping away from helping Deku. Curious, you glanced at Deku, who had a bruised fist and cheekbone, and asked, "How did this even happen?"

"None of your damn business, first aid!" Katsuki's sharp retort echoed through the room, his frustration evident as he winced in pain and held the ice against his throbbing nose. Rolling your eyes, you leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on Deku's cheek, causing him to blush softly and smile in return.

With a soft blush, Deku looked at you and spoke, "Oh, you know, we were just caught up in a brawl." He expressed his gratitude as he flexed his hand, relieved to see the pain and bruising subside.

A smile played on your lips as you nodded, acknowledging the intensity of the fight. Walking over to Katsuki, you noticed him pushing Eijiro away, who was attempting to clean up the blood on his face and clothes.

"Don't touch me, hair-for-brains!" Katsuki grumbled, shoving Eijiro's head away with frustration. "You're bleeding all over the place! Just hold the cloth to your nose," he pleaded with the blond. Reluctantly, Katsuki snatched the cloth and placed it under his nose, watching as it quickly turned crimson. His gaze then shifted towards you, standing before him. Anticipating your next move, he immediately shook his head. "No way, I'm not letting your perverted ass anywhere near me," he declared, his tone defiant.

Confused, you questioned, "Then how am I supposed to heal you?" Taking a seat beside him, you observed the swelling on his nose. "I don't care, just keep your weird lips away from me," Katsuki huffed, averting his gaze.

Deku chimed in, attempting to persuade Katsuki, "Come on, Kacchan. We can't get in trouble. Y/n was kind enough to help us."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Katsuki's snarky comment. "I didn't ask for your opinion, nerd," he retorted, as you started pinching his swollen nose lightly. He let out a yelp of pain, causing you to smirk. "Does that hurt?" you asked, increasing the pressure on his nose. "Let me fix it for you real quick," you offered, ignoring his protests. "Come on, we don't want Mr. Aizawa catching us," Kirishima chimed in.

Katsuki grumbled, reluctantly agreeing. "Just hurry up, you perv, and keep your hands off me," he grumbled. You smiled softly, releasing his nose and leaning in closer to his cheek, feeling the warmth radiating from his face. You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip. This wasn't the first time you had done something like this, but it felt different this time. Taking a deep breath, you pressed your lips against his cheek, pulling away after a few seconds. A blush crept onto your cheeks.

"Alright, now get lost," Katsuki muttered, looking away, his nose already looking better. "Thanks again, Y/n. We really appreciate it," Deku said with a grateful smile. "No problem at all," you replied, standing up and quickly making your way back to your dorm. The music you had left playing filled your ears as you closed the door and leaned against it. Your eyes widened slightly as a whirlwind of thoughts flooded your mind. Did you actually like him? Or was it just his attractiveness that caught your attention? Lost in your thoughts, you stood there for what felt like an eternity until a knock on your door snapped you back to reality. Blinking a few times, you opened the door.

Katsuki stood there, hands buried in his pockets, his gaze fixed on you. "Hey," you greeted softly, feeling a bit uneasy as you awaited his response. "Is everything okay? How's your nose?" you inquired, concerned. "Just shut up," he snapped, his tone harsh. "I'm not sure what I'm feeling," he started, his expression conflicted. "I don't like it because I'm supposed to hate you, but I can't. And that kiss… even if it was just on the cheek. I couldn't get it out of my head," he admitted. "Although you're a total pervert, I didn't hate being kissed by you."

You were taken aback by his words. "What?" you began, only to be interrupted. "So, don't go kissing anyone else, got it?" he warned sternly. You nodded quickly. "Okay," you replied with a soft smile. Katsuki's eyes softened as he moved closer, his hand reaching towards your face. "Stop picking at your lips, you're going to mess them up," he scolded gently, wiping away a trace of blood from where you had been picking at them earlier.

"Thank you," you said gratefully, smiling at him as he withdrew his hand. "See you tomorrow, first aid," he muttered before turning to walk away.

tags: @slayfics Lmk if you wanna be added

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

friday, kim taerae— select choir

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.7k

⋆˙⟡ reader: just one gn!reader version for this (no pronouns are used at all to describe reader; reader is describe as having a "pretty" mouth but no gendered or femme language)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ friday summary: it's the end of the most bizarre week of your life. last year, you would've been overjoyed to spend time in select choir with your friend kim taerae. but that all went down the drain after hanbin recruited him into his group of incessant jerks... and he's desperate to officially be one of the guys.

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. bullying. the lore for taerae is so SAD. i'll make sure his ending is happy, i promise. also we've got a ft. hanbin chapter but just in digital form.

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★★ (5.0)

(idk the bully scale is subjective but like imagine your best friend saying this shit about you WHY IS HE DOING THAT OMG jk i know why and soon you will too)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: oral, (taerae receiving), throat fucking (reader receiving), brief handjob and heavy petting (taerae receiving), cumming without warning in mouth, filming of sexual act, voyeur!hanbin, slight dubcon but like for both of them kind of idk you'll see but it's slight, bullying, the usual.

friday.

you should be elated that this week is nearly over. and you are. mostly, anyway. 

but there was an indescribable thrill to all this that you couldn’t seem to shake. all that talk of ravens yesterday had got you thinking...

 why did you dislike ravens in the first place?

thinking. crying. haphazardly finishing all of your assignments due friday that you’d procrastinated the whole week. urgent texts to and from mina after her ✨jiwoong oppa✨ stood her up for their date.

one thing was for certain: you desperately need sleep.

that’s why you’re currently falling asleep sitting up, hard-back music folder open in your hands as professor yoo works with the bass section. the lowest notes of “requiem” are soft and soothing and, for you at this sleep-deprived moment, very dangerous. 

luckily a sharp elbow to the shoulder jolts the drowsiness right out of you.

you look to your left to find kim taerae giving you one of the most judgmental glares you’ve ever earned in your life.

you would expect nothing less from him.

at one time a judgmental glare from taerae was the equivalent of a hug. you returned the gesture happily. and also threw in some hugs whenever he’d let you. he squirmed a bit, but the big smile that would grow on his face made it all worth it.

but there’s no warmth behind his eyes now. just a sharp elbow pointed at you, threatening to strike again if you didn’t shape up quick enough.

“you’re gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns with a frown.

you roll your eyes. “why do you care?”

“because, unfortunately, some people still think we’re friends,” he says, making thin lines with his pencil on a page of his sheet music. “and i don’t want to suffer the social consequences of your embarrassing actions.”

“mm,” you agree wordlessly. “guess i should’ve thought of that myself.”

he doesn’t respond for a few moments, eyes focused on his sheet music until an audible sigh comes from his direction. “why are you so tired anyway? s’not like you.”

“for all you know, it could be,” you retort with a huff. “maybe i’m a real night owl now. maybe i’m out partying or smoking or... something.”

taerae snorts. “jiwoong hyung was not lying about those tragic acting skills.”

“oh, fuck off,” you reply.

his eyes widen. and then promptly squint with suspicion. “since when did you swear like that?”

you frown, trying to discern what he could mean. hadn’t you always been this uninhibited with your tongue? 

the answer was no. you hadn’t. and this new speech pattern of yours had a very specific origin: monday afternoon. you exhale a chuckle. maybe you had yet to realize the full extent of how this week has changed you.

and how your desire to change back continues to dwindle.

you just shrug, returning your focus to your music. you feel taerae’s eyes on you as you track your vocal section’s part in “requiem”.

you and taerae had purposefully chosen seats next to each other in choir last year so that you could goof off together during every possible free moment. it was also convenient for your parents, who always wanted to get pictures of you two together during concerts ever since high school.

now you wish you went to different universities altogether.

ironically, you might’ve had a better chance of remaining friends if you’d had distance. but you and taerae disagreed quite adamantly at the time.

halfway through your two-hour rehearsal, you’re allowed a fifteen minute break to grab water and stretch your legs. you always wander off down the empty storage hallway, where your favorite vending machine is hidden in plain sight— the one with the oreos and cheez-its and bugles in it. 

pulling out your debit card, you insert the chip into the machine and punch in the number for the snack of your choosing. you watch happily as it falls down from it’s spiral prison into the dispenser below. you start to bend down when a hand reaches in before you and grabs your snack.

“hey, what the—…” you trail off as you come face to face with a cavernous dimple. “give it back. now.”

“you’re so touchy today,” taerae condemns with a click of his tongue. he holds your snack high above his head, dangling it in a challenge. “seriously, what’s gotten into you this week?”

“oh, you know exactly what,” you huff, reaching for the snack in vain.

taerae laughs. “i guess a better question would be: what hasn’t gotten into you this week?”

“you’re so fucking funny,” you snap, fingers finally closing around the wrapper as you yank it down. 

taerae’s brow is raised in surprise, not really caring about the repossession of the snack. “seriously, i’m not used to you swearing like that. i’m not sure if i like it.”

“i assumed there was nothing you liked about me anymore,” you retort, tearing open your snack and shoveling the processed glory down your throat.

“that’s not true,” he replies, hand suddenly reaching to your face. he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, a crumb transferring from you to him. he brings his thumb to his own lips and tastes it. “i still like your pretty mouth.”

when you finally manage to pick your jaw up off the ground, you shake your head. “i know you don’t think of me like that.”

“uh...” taerae mumbles awkwardly, glancing at the row of shelves behind you. “sure, i do.”

“oh yeah? how about mina’s pool party two years ago? when we—.”

“OH, actually you—,” he interjects urgently, glaring at you to shut up. normally you would. but after this week, you no longer feel bound to quiet compliance. “you don’t need to—.”

“—were playing spin the bottle and it landed on me and you threw up in the pool because you were so disgusted by the mere thought of kissing me—”

his lips crash onto yours, hand cupping your cheek. it’s a demanding, yet tentative kiss and you’re even more confused when it ends.

you take a step backward, folding your arms across your chest. 

“can you just—...” taerae grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him, glancing again at the row of shelves behind you. “yes, that’s perfect.”

“what’s perfect?” you ask with a frown, starting to grow immune to strange behavior after the week you’ve had.

“oh, um.... you,” taerae answers after a moment with a smirk. “you were always so perfect, (y/n). perfect grades. perfect manners. perfect body. i used to jump at the chance to sleep over when your mom would let me. you used to beg her until she finally said yes, because she knew you'd never misbehave. remember, honey?"

eyes wide at the dark shift in his tone, you nod slowly.

“you were so innocent... you slept shirtless, for fuck's sake. peacefully dreaming, while i pretended to be asleep on the floor,” he continues, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “hoping i wouldn't wake you up if i just lifted the covers to get a peek."

when you thought the worst of your pain this week was over…

“tae,” you breathe, eyes watering— pleading for this not to be true. it couldn’t be. at least... not in the vulgar way he was describing it. "you don't mean that."

at the sound of your despair, there's a momentary flash in his eyes. regret. you still know him like the back of your hand.

“why are you doing this?” you ask, hands flying to cup either side of his face. he flinches, trying his best not to look you in the eye again. trying not to let you see. “you don’t have to be my friend anymore if you really don’t want to. but i don’t know why you want to be like them when you’re miles better than they’ll ever—.”

“alright, that’s enough.”

the muffled, tinny voice comes out of nowhere. you look around your immediate surroundings, trying to discern where it came from.

“c’mon, you were doing so well,” the voice rings again. “you said you had this under control, bud. was i wrong to put my trust in you?”

“no, hyung,” taerae answers, shaking his head. “i—… i can do it.”

“hanbinnie?” you ask and then cough awkwardly to cover up the fact you just called your arch nemesis so affectionately. yesterday must’ve gotten to you more than you know. “i mean, hanbin-ah! what the actual hell is going on?”

“no need to worry about it, sweetheart,” hanbin’s voice dismisses again. taerae’s eyes dart towards the shelves behind you once more. you follow his gaze— jaw dropping when you see two camera lenses staring back at you. 

“what—...” you fumble, shaking your head in disbelief as you look at the back of taerae’s phone— propped up with a black music folder. “you’re recording this!?”

“afraid so,” hanbin answers for taerae. “i didn’t really think he could follow through without some supervision. don’t mind me though. unless you just can’t help yourself...”

while at the beginning of this week a situation as perverted and bizarre as this would’ve had your whole nervous system shutting down, you’re still standing tall. present in this strange moment. you smirk.

“aw, tae,” you coo mockingly, turning to your former friend. “how sentimental of you...”

a brow arches in confusion back at you. “what are you––?”

“of course you’d wanna capture such a special moment on camera,” you continue with a patronizing nod. “it’s not every day that you lose your virginity.”

“HEY THAT’S—…” taerae starts to yell at you for sharing this embarrassing personal detail that you’re sure he never disclosed to hanbin. “that’s… that’s not true.”

“oh come on, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you twist the metaphorical knife as hanbin stifles a laugh. “i’d be happy to help you out with that, since i was the one who had to listen to you whine for four years about how you were still. a. fucking—”

two fingers are down your throat in an instant. you gag, trying to step backwards, but taerae’s hand finds the back of your head— holding you in place. he removes his fingers slowly, pupils dilating when you whimper in fear.

“i’ve decided i don’t like the swearing,” he says, a sickening hint of sweetness in his tone. any upperhand you had is now gone as he traces your lips with his thumb. “such a pretty mouth. those filthy words shouldn’t be coming out of it.”

“y-you don’t get to decide that,” you stammer unconvincingly.

“so that’s what you really want, then?” he asks, sticking his thumb further into your mouth. you suck obediently. “you wanna have a filthy mouth?”

you nod, his thumb still pressed against your tongue— cheeks hollowed out as taerae bites his lip hungrily.

“then you can have it,” he says before removing his thumb from your mouth and pressing down on your neck and shoulder— forcing you to your knees in front of him. you guess joining the soccer team had really improved his strength. “just remember it’s what you said you wanted.”

taerae unbuttons his jeans, pulling the zipper down. he freezes, clearly unsure of what to do next. maybe this is your opportunity to wiggle your way out of this. if only your curiosity wasn’t equally as strong.

“we––... i have to audition after this,” you protest weakly. “when break’s over, i have to audition for the solo i’ve been prepping for so i want to keep my voice warm right now and—.”

“ah, that’s right. i did forget about that,” he affirms, looking up at the ceiling in thought before smirking back down at you. “but i think i can help keep it pretty warm, actually.”

your attempt to level with taerae only seems to encourage him as he pulls down his jeans and boxer-briefs. you inhale sharply as his hard cock comes to eye-level, so close you can really examine it. though it’s slightly smaller than hanbin’s, it’s thicker and you need to know immediately how it feels in your hand.

“whoah, you—,” taerae stumbles, eyes wide as you take him eagerly in your hand. he stares at you, lips parted as you start to pump him. “holy shit.”

“you’re sure you wanna do this?” you ask, pausing your motion to make eye contact with him. you can tell he doesn’t want you to stop, but there’s conflict lingering there that he just can’t seem to hide.

taerae clears his throat, shaking his head as he resumes his tough guy act. eyes cold once more, he shrugs. “a hole’s a hole.”

after a year of judgmental berating from your former best friend, it was almost comforting to know that he was capable of being even meaner than he already was. it meant that, for whatever reason, he usually didn’t want to be any meaner to you.

he takes both of your hands in one of his, keeping you from using them as his other hand finds the back of your neck again— guiding your face towards his cock. taerae doesn’t need to give much guidance though. you’re aching to get a taste and the way your lips sink down around him nearly knocks the wind out of him.

back pressed against the side of the vending machine, his thumb presses into your cheek— feeling himself inside of your pretty mouth. you swirl your tongue around his tip, causing him to moan softly.

there’s a little bit of rustling coming from where taerae’s phone is propped up on the shelf. you wonder if hanbin’s enjoying this. if he’s touching himself— wishing he was throat deep in you instead.

“c’mon, bud. is (y/n) running this show or are you?” hanbin asks, tone laden with frustration.

“i—... i am,” taerae asserts, grip tightening across the back of your neck. 

he starts to thrust gently into your mouth, an action that you’re not so familiar with. it rattles you a bit— loss of control after feeling like you were gaining it back.

“this is what you asked for, baby,” he reminds you, shallow thrusts starting to venture a bit deeper. “remember? you said you wanted a filthy mouth. so i’m gonna make a mess of it.”

you find the right rhythm to breathe through the thrusts. the tip of his cock is dangerously close to entering your throat, sending another wave of anxiety through you. but it’s not for long. 

your eyes meet taerae’s and, though he’s the one putting you in that danger, you suddenly feel very safe. you let out a sigh, the vibration causing him to mewl. he scratches at your neck affectionately, putting pressure against it to feel himself inside you as he fucks your throat.

“see, keeping that throat nice and warm,” taerae coos as his breathing gets heavier— and his moaning gets louder. “take me so well, i—.”

“shut the fuck up, dude,” hanbin scolds, his own breath growing labored. “do you wanna get caught before you can win the—?”

before hanbin can finish his thought, you feel a warm, sticky liquid begin to pour down your throat. you pull off of taerae, sputtering and coughing as you try to swallow it down. wiping your mouth, you look up at taerae who is looking at you like he wants to dive straight into the han river and never return.

“for fucks sake, are you actually a virgin or something?” hanbin asks angrily. “is that really all you can last for? and, jesus, you’ve gotta warn someone before you do that.”

your throat is starting to burn and you’d love to be able to say something, anything, but the rasp that comes out isn’t pleasant-feeling. you rub at your throat with your now-free hands as taerae’s expression just turns more horrified.

“did i... did i hurt you? fuck, i didn’t mean to—,” taerae starts to babble uselessly until hanbin claps loudly.

“good work, team!” he says as he finishes his round of applause. “mvp definitely goes to me, for coming up with this idea in the first place. i’ll see the campus activities secretary at the big game tomorrow, right?”

“mm,” is all you can croak out. you wish it sounded angrier.

“and i’ll see you at practice tonight, man. i—,” hanbin cuts himself off with a confused look. “wait, where did he go?”

you face forward, expecting to see taerae standing next to the vending machine but... hanbin’s right. he’s vanished.

“that kid’s a piece of work,” hanbin says, shaking his head. “you think he’d be more grateful after i took him under my wing and made him popular. i even got him a spot on the soccer team after a lot of private coaching. i mean, he’s benched for life, but still!”

you’re a saint among men, is what you wish you could say. instead, you just roll your eyes.

“just take his phone and give it back to him in class, will you?” hanbin asks as you stand up and make your way toward the shelves. “and drink some hot tea for that throat, okay? throw some honey in it and you’ll be good as new for tomorrow, i promise.”

you sigh. and you nod. and you pick up taerae’s phone and end the video call. 

and you go back to choir and sit in your black music chair and wait for taerae to come back, but he doesn’t. and when it’s time to audition for the solo you’ve been preparing for, you stay seated and quiet. 

seated and quiet.

like you’ve been for so long.

and when practice ends and the choir room is empty and you remain seated and quiet in your black music chair and tears begin to well up in your eyes, you don’t cry.

you smile.

you stand up.

you shout (briefly, so as not to disturb anyone in neighboring classrooms).

at some point or another, you forgot how to do these things. or you were made to feel like you couldn’t or shouldn’t. 

but that’s who you really are.

who you were always meant to be.

not a juliet. not a violin. not a goalie. not a bird. not a pretty mouth.

you.

you pick up your bag off the floor (and taerae’s) and throw them both over your shoulder, making a beeline toward the door.

absolutely, hanbinnie, you think. you’ll see me at the big game.

[sweetmage]

Accessible BG3 Mods For The Visually Impaired!

As someone with a vision disability, I have a hard time reading small text, distinguishing menu options, and so on. So of course I stay on the look out for accessibility mods. I'm gonna link some of the mods I use (and some that might just be useful) for other PC users that are struggling with vision issues with this game. Be sure to check the mod pages for specific installation instructions for each mod as well as any dependencies or compatibility issues with other mods. Do note that these mods were compiled based on my own experiences with low vision, eye strain, and trouble distinguishing small objects/words so they may not be useful for everyone. If you have any suggestions for things to add to the list or if any links are broken, please let me know!

Also please show some love to these modders if their mods helped you 😄

Better Maps All In One

Link Here

With this mod you can remove the grid overlay on the map which reduces visual clutter. There is also an option to make the minimap larger and a recent update says that colorblind support has been added for NPC markers!

Bigger Mouse Cursors

Link Here

Does what it says on the tin, makes all mouse cursors larger.

Darker Paper

Link Here

Providers a darker background for all readable items (books, notes, etc.) which may reduce eye strain for some.

Comic Sans (Font Replacer)

Link Here

Can be useful for those with dyslexia or vision impairments.

Better Context Menu

Link Here

Adds related icons to all context menu options and (optionally) makes the context menu larger.

Increased Font Size

Link Here

Does what it says on the tin, increases font size with options ranging from 10% to 55% increases. Note: If using in conjunction with the Comic Sans mod, the author of this mod recommends starting with the 10% size and increasing if needed as the Comic Sans mod already starts larger by default.

Less Annoying Magic Effects

Link Here

Disables VFX for many spells, status effects, etc. (see mod page for list). Useful for reducing eye strain, visual clutter, or headache inducing effects. There is an optional configurable version so you can remove only certain effects, though I haven't tried that myself.

Bigger Customize Dice Button

Link Here

Does what it says on the tin, makes the button to customize your dice larger.

[onlycosmere]

Editing

tahollow: I always wondered exactly what editing was, but I figured it was more of making sure things align with the main focus of the story/characters instead of truncating the novel.

Brandon Sanderson: There's really three big stages to editing.

1) Substantive Editing. This is usually the editor reading the book and offering an "Editorial Letter." The editor often doesn't leave any marks on the manuscript in this stage, but instead writes everything out on the large scale. They might offer suggestions for improvement, but more often than not, they just highlight the problem areas and ask you to rethink them or ask for more clarity. Sometimes, you'll do a call an explain what you were trying, and you'll bounce ideas off each other of how to better achieve it.

I have four people usually doing substantive edits with me. Devi at Tor. Gillian from the UK. Peter from my own company. And Karen, my continuity editor. All are seeing the book early, and all are making large-scale notes about problems to work on. (Karen's focus is on continuity first--large scale continuity like timing of days, and comparisons to previous books. The others don't worry about that much, and focus on things like character arcs and structure.)

2) Line editing. When I had Moshe, he did both substantive and line editing. These days, Gillian is our primary line editor, and she does a second pass to cover this after doing her substantive editorial letter. She's a very good line editor, by the way. This is the "Make the page bleed" type thing you might hear of an editor doing. They go through and try to help you clarify. During this stage, they will trim, though the focus is on helping you find the right words, identify trouble sentences, and the like. Gillian usually has a handful (four or five) of these per page, depending. Some pages have none. Some have more. Tightening IS a focus during this stage, but it's again more about clarity.

After this stage, I do my own revision where--with a spreadsheet and wordcounts in hand--I cut 10-15% of the book, line by line, to really condense and make it pop. This is where I pay attention to language most. If I'm writing a book with a strong voice and distinctive prose, like one of Hoid's novels, I look to really implement it here. If I'm trying something more clear and concise, where I want character voice to dominate not narrative voice, I really try to get the writer to vanish here and let the character and story reign.

Because of this, I can track exactly how much I trimmed from Wind and Truth.

3) After this, a separate set of editors take over. The copy editor is focused on maintaining a style guide and making sure that there aren't line-level contradictions in the book. (Did you say his eyes were green here, and blue in a different chapter?) A copy editor is also a "first line" proofreader. They aren't supposed to make, or suggest, sweeping changes--at this point, the page numbers and the like of the book are getting locked in for pre production.

Peter Ahlstrom, my editorial VP, oversees this. I make changes during this stage, but when I do, he actually puts them into the text. He then works with the proofreaders, doing multiple passes.

So, not counting beta readers and alpha readers, I have five main editors on a Stormlight book.

Devi

Gillian

Peter

Karen

And Terry (our primary copyeditor.)

Each has a different role, though all of them but Terry offer a lot of substantive changes.

[geneeste]

Creating a personal fanfic archive using Calibre, various Calibre plugins, Firefox Reader View, and an e-Reader / BookFusion / Calibre-Web

A few years ago I started getting serious about saving my favorite fic (or just any fic I enjoyed), since the Internet is sadly not actually always forever when it comes to fanfiction. Plus, I wanted a way to access fanfic offline when wifi wasn't available. Enter a personal fanfic archive!

There are lots of ways you can do this, but I thought I'd share my particular workflow in case it helps others get started. Often it's easier to build off someone else's workflow than to create your own!

Please note that this is for building an archive for private use -- always remember that it's bad form to publicly archive someone else's work without their explicit permission.

This is going to be long, so let's add a read more!

How to Build Your Own Personal Fanfic Archive

Step One: Install Calibre

Calibre is an incredibly powerful ebook management software that allows you to do a whole lot of stuff having to do with ebooks, such as convert almost any text-based file into an ebook and (often) vice-versa. It also allows you to easily side-load ebooks onto your personal e-reader of choice and manage the collection of ebooks on the device.

And because it's open source, developers have created a bunch of incredibly useful plugins to use with Calibre (including several we're going to talk about in the next step), which make saving and reading fanfiction super easy and fun.

But before we can do that, you need to download and install it. It's available for Windows, MacOS, Linux, and in a portable version.

Step Two: Download These Plugins

This guide would be about 100 pages long if I went into all of the plugins I love and use with Calibre, so we're just going to focus on the ones I use for saving and reading fanfiction. And since I'm trying to keep this from becoming a novel (lolsob), I'll just link to the documentation for most of these plugins, but if you run into trouble using them, just tag me in the notes or a comment and I'll be happy to write up some steps for using them.

Anyway, now that you've downloaded and installed Calibre, it's time to get some plugins! To do that, go to Preferences > Get plugins to enhance Calibre.

You'll see a pop-up with a table of a huge number of plugins. You can use the Filter by name: field in the upper right to search for the plugins below, one at a time.

Click on each plugin, then click Install. You'll be asked which toolbars to add the plugins to; for these, I keep the suggested locations (in the main toolbar & when a device is connected).

FanFicFare (here's also a great tutorial for using this plugin) EpubMerge (for creating anthologies from fic series) EbubSplit (for if you ever need to break up fic anthologies) Generate Cover (for creating simple artwork for downloaded fic) Manage Series (for managing fic series)

You'll have to restart Calibre for the plugins to run, so I usually wait to restart until I've installed the last plugin I want.

Take some time here to configure these plugins, especially FanFicFare. In the next step, I'll demonstrate a few of its features, but you might be confused if you haven't set it up yet! (Again, highly recommend that linked tutorial!)

Step Three: Get to Know FanFicFare (and to a lesser extent, Generate Cover)

FanFicFare is a free Calibre plugin that allows you to download fic in bulk, including all stories in a series as one work, adding them directly to Calibre so that that you can convert them to other formats or transfer them to your e-reader.

As with Calibre, FanFicFare has a lot of really cool features, but we're just going to focus on a few, since the docs above will show you most of them.

The features I use most often are: Download from URLs, Get Story URLs from Email, and Get Story URLs from Web Page.

Download from URLs let's you add a running list of URLs that you'd like FanFicFare to download and turn into ebooks for you. So, say, you have a bunch of fic from fanfic.net that you want to download. You can do that!

Now, in this case, I've already downloaded these (which FanFicFare detected), so I didn't update my library with the fic.

But I do have some updates to do from email, so let's try getting story URLs from email!

Woohoo, new fic! Calibre will detect when cover art is included in the downloaded file and use that, but at least one of these fic doesn't have cover art (which is the case for most of the fic I download). This is where Generate Cover comes in.

With Generate Cover, I can set the art, font, dimensions, and info content of the covers so that when I'm looking at the fic on my Kindle, I know right away what fic it is, what fandom it's from, and whether or not it's part of a series.

Okay, last thing from FanFicFare -- say I want to download all of the fic on a page, like in an author's profile on fanfic.net or all of the stories in a series. I can do that too with Get Story URLs from Web Page:

The thing I want to call out here is that I can specify whether the fic at this link are individual works or all part of an anthology, meaning if they're all works in the same series, I can download all stories as a single ebook by choosing For Anthology Epub.

Step Four: Using FireFox Reader View to Download Fic Outside of Archives

This is less common now thanks to AO3, but the elders among us may want to save fanfic that exists outside of archives on personal websites that either still exist or that exist only on the Internet Wayback Machine. FanFicFare is awesome and powerful, but it's not able to download fic from these kinds of sources, so we have to get creative.

I've done this in a couple of ways, none of which are entirely perfect, but the easiest way I've found thus far is by using Firefox's Reader View. Also, I don't think I discovered this -- I think I read about this on Tumblr, actually, although I can longer find the source (if you know it, please tell me so I can credit them!).

At any rate, open the fic in Firefox and then toggle on Reader View:

Toggling on Reader View strips all the HTML formatting from the page and presents the fic in the clean way you see in the preview below, which is more ideal for ebook formats.

To save this, go to the hamburger menu in the upper right of the browser and select Print, then switch to Print to PDF. You'll see the URL and some other stuff at the top and bottom of the pages; to remove that, scroll down until you see something like More settings... and uncheck Print headers and footers.

Click Save to download the resulting PDF, which you can then add to Calibre and convert to whichever format works best for your e-reader or archive method.

Step Five: Archiving (Choose Your Own Adventure)

Here's the really fun part: now that you know how to download your fave fanfics in bulk and hopefully have a nice little cache going, it's time to choose how you want to (privately) archive them!

I'm going to go through each option I've used in order of how easy it is to implement (and whether it costs additional money to use). I won't go too in depth about any of them, but I'm happy to do so in a separate post if anyone is interested.

Option 1: On Your Computer

If you're using Calibre to convert fanfic, then you're basically using your computer as your primary archive. This is a great option, because it carries no additional costs outside the original cost of acquiring your computer. It's also the simplest option, as it really doesn't require any advanced technical knowledge, just a willingness to tinker with Calibre and its plugins or to read how-to docs.

Calibre comes with a built-in e-book viewer that you can use to read the saved fic on your computer (just double-click on the fic in Calibre). You can also import it into your ebook app of choice (in most cases; this can get a little complicated just depending on how many fic you're working with and what OS you're on/app you're using).

If you choose this option, you may want to consider backing the fic up to a secondary location like an external hard drive or cloud storage. This may incur additional expense, but is likely still one of the more affordable options, since storage space is cheap and only getting cheaper, and text files tend to not be that big to begin with, even when there are a lot of them.

Option 2: On Your e-Reader

This is another great option, since this is what Calibre was built for! There are some really great, afforable e-readers out there nowadays, and Calibre supports most of them. Of course, this is a more expensive option because you have to acquire an e-reader in addition to a computer to run Calibre on, but if you already have an e-reader and haven't considered using it to read fanfic, boy are you in for a treat!

Option 3: In BookFusion

This is a really cool option that I discovered while tinkering with Calibre and used for about a year before I moved to a self-hosted option (see Option 4).

BookFusion is a web platform and an app (available on iOS and Android) that allows you to build your own ebook library and access it from anywhere, even when you're offline (it's the offline bit that really sold me). It has a Calibre plugin through which you can manage your ebook library very easily, including sorting your fanfic into easy-to-access bookshelves. You may or may not be able to share ebooks depending on your subscription, but only with family members.

Here's what the iOS app looks like:

The downside to BookFusion is that you'll need a subscription if you want to upload more than 10 ebooks. It's affordable(ish), ranging from $1.99 per month for a decent 5GB storage all the way to $9.99 for 100GB for power users. Yearly subs range from $18.99 to $95.99. (They say this is temporary, early bird pricing, but subscribing now locks you into this pricing forever.)

I would recommend this option if you have some cash to spare and you're really comfortable using Calibre or you're a nerd for making apps like BookFusion work. It works really well and is incredibly convenient once you get it set up (especially when you want to read on your phone or tablet offline), but even I, someone who works in tech support for a living, had some trouble with the initial sync and ended up duplicating every ebook in my BookFusion library, making for a very tedious cleanup session.

Option 4: On a Self-Hosted Server Using Calibre-Web

Do you enjoy unending confusion and frustration? Are you okay with throwing fistfuls of money down a well? Do you like putting in an incredible amount of work for something only you and maybe a few other people will ever actually use? If so, self-hosting Calibre-Web on your own personal server might be a good fit for you!

To be fair, this is likely an experience unique to me, because I am just technical enough to be a danger to myself. I can give a brief summary of how I did this, but I don't know nearly enough to explain to you how to do it.

Calibre-Web is a web app that works on top of Calibre, offering "a clean and intuitive interface for browsing, reading, and downloading eBooks."

I have a network-attached storage (NAS) server on which I run an instance of Calibre and Calibre-Web (through the miracle that is Docker). After the initial work of downloading all the fic I wanted to save and transferring it to the server, I'm now able to download all new fic pretty much via email thanks to FanFicFare, so updating my fic archive is mostly automated at this point.

If you're curious, this is what it looks like:

Pros: The interface is clean and intuitive, the ebook reader is fantastic. The Discover feature, in which you are given random books / fic to read, has turned out to be one feature worth all the irritation of setting up Calibre-Web. I can access, read, and download ebooks on any device, and I can even convert ebooks into another format using this interface. As I mentioned above, updating it with fic (and keeping the Docker container itself up to date) is relatively automated and easy now.

Cons: The server, in whichever form you choose, costs money. It is not cheap. If you're not extremely careful (and sometimes even if you are, like me) and a hard drive goes bad, you could lose data (and then you have to spend more money to replace said hard drive and time replacing said data). It is not easy to set up. You may, at various points in this journey, wish you could launch the server into the sun, Calibre-Web into the sun, or yourself into the sun.

Step Six: Profit!

That's it! I hope this was enough to get you moving towards archiving your favorite fanfic. Again, if there's anything here you'd like me to expand on, let me know! Obviously I'm a huge nerd about this stuff, and love talking about it.

[cowgurrrl]

Slow It Down Cowboy

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this ended up being so chunky but I hope that’s okay

Summary: The wall [5.8k!!!]

Warnings: academic blackmail??, bad administrative decisions, an even worse parent, Joel comforting reader, more art talk, slight angst

As the sun sets earlier and the weather dips below the usual heat, things actually start looking pretty good. Andie, somehow, found time off of work and is coming home for a few days during the long winter break. You've gotten back to making art you actually care about now that you're in a race with Joel. All your students are settled and starting to come out of their shells, making more experimental art. Ellie continues to show up with cups of coffee with your name on them before anyone else can spill into your classroom, and you continue to text Joel. 

How much are you spending on coffee now?

I thought we agreed to keep certain things secret.

Joel Miller.

Hush. You deserve it.

In between lessons and at lunch, you'll manage to catch each other at the right time and shoot messages off as fast as they come in. He helps you fix a squeaky chair over text, and you help him set up a care package to send to Sarah. It's nice even though you haven't really seen him since the night of the gallery opening. Even things at the bar seem to be doing better, and you're making enough to not have to worry so much. But you're most proud of the list of students whose art will be shown at the winter showcase, Ellie's work among them. 

You make a big deal about it and send in an announcement to be read in the morning, congratulating all the students. You even go out of your way to announce it in all your classes and offer extra credit to any student who shows up to support their classmates. Surprisingly, your rag-tag group of moody teenagers actually seem keen about the opportunity. Things are going well. You're happy, healthy, financially stable(ish), and your guards are down for the first time in a long time.

You're working with quiet music playing over your computer when the knock at your door sounds during planning period. You stand to open it, but before you can, you hear a jangle of keys and the popping of the lock. Principal Martinez walks in, squints at you, and immediately turns on the overhead fluorescent lights that haven't been used in God knows how long. They buzz in protest as your eyes adjust. 

"Hey!" You manage to sound cheery even though she looks like she means business. "I'm assuming you're here about the winter showcase?" You ask, and the line between her brows deepens.

"The what?"

"The showcase? A couple of my kids from the art club got accepted to have their artwork shown in a gallery downtown. It was on the announcements this morning. I can send you the information about when the event is." You offer. Something clicks, and she shakes her head now that she knows what you're talking about. 

"Oh, that," she says. "No, I'm not here about that." 

"Am I in trouble?" 

"Not exactly." She says, and you feel panic pool in your stomach like an unwanted visitor. "Dalton Green's father has brought his grade in your class to my attention."

"He hasn't turned anything in to me since September. I can't grade an empty page," you say, hoping that she's as aware as you are that it's the beginning of November. "I sent an email to his father and football coach back in October, but I still haven't seen any work from him."

"Mr. Green says he's positive his son has turned in work. Are you sure you haven't just misplaced it?" 

"No, I've graded and given back every single assignment from the semester." 

"Let me be clear," she says. "Are you sure you haven't just forgotten to put his grades in? It's an easy mistake to make. You could always just input them now so that he's eligible to continue playing. You wouldn't want to bench a perfectly responsible young man. Would you?"

"Ma'am, are you suggesting I lie about Dalton's grades just so he can keep playing football?" You ask, your panic quickly turning into frustration. 

"It'd be such a silly thing to fail something as simple as art. Especially when the funding for the school comes directly from our team's ability to perform. Sometimes, as teachers, we have to make sacrifices to ensure the greater good of our students." She says. It never fails to surprise you how condescending people can be when it comes to your job. Martinez will be gone in a year to fight for a place on the school board, and it's clear she's not pulling her punches even now. Still, you're floored by the ask. Never in your career have you been asked by a principal to lie about a student's grades. 

"I'd be willing to make certain accommodations, but I'm really not comfortable doing that. If he wanted to turn something in, I could find a way to give him half credit." You say. Her face changes almost imperceptibly before she straightens up with a cynical smile. 

"Well, I think since you had the idea, you should be the one to call his father and tell him the good news," she says it like it's a reward, but it feels like more of a punishment. Your good mood comes crumbling around you as she looks at you expectantly. You have principles as a teacher. This is one of them, but how far are you willing to go to protect it? "I have a meeting with some people from the school board, but please let me know what conclusion you and Mr. Green come to regarding Dalton's grades." She says as she walks out of your room, not even bothering to look at you over her shoulder as she speaks to you.

"Fuck," you mutter as the door closes behind her. You stare at the phone and think about your options. You can't let her walk all over you just because she's your boss, and you won't compromise your values just so the football program will thrive. But you also really don't want to make this phone call. If Dalton's dad is as pleasant as he seems over email, you can't imagine this going well. "Fuck." You say again as you pick up the receiver and search your records for Dalton's dad's phone number. You find it, and in a burst of confidence, dial the number and listen to the line ring, secretly hoping he won't pick up. 

"Green." His dad says in place of a greeting, and you take a deep breath.

"Hi, Mr. Green. This is Dalton's art teacher from school. I understand you had some issues regarding his grade in my class?" You tread very carefully, but even then, he scoffs.

"You're damn right I have some issues. Why are you failin' him? He's gotta pass to play football, and Principal Martinez said you'd get it sorted." 

"Yes, sir, that's why I'm calling," you say. "Dalton hasn't turned in any of the assignments I've given out since September, and because of that, I've been unable to give him a good grade. However, I can make some arrangements to give him half credit for every assignment he turns in before the end of next week. That should give him more than enough time between classes and practice." 

"He told me you lost his assignments."

"No, sir, I haven't received anything from him." You say. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and you almost hope the call dropped before he can respond. 

"Are you sayin' my son's a liar?" 

You spend the next twenty minutes being berated over the phone, not even allowed to get a word in without being cut off. Several times throughout the call, you think about hanging up and unplugging the phone, but you know that'd only make it worse. God forbid he show up at the school and humiliate you in front of the other staff or, worse, students. No wonder Dalton has issues if this is how his father speaks to people. If your day wasn't ruined by your encounter with the principal, it certainly is now. You handle it as well as possible until he gets near the end of his rant and takes a deep breath.

"I just can't believe they'd let a teacher as horrible as you work there. What right do you have to teach anything?" He says, and that's what really gets under your skin. Suddenly, hot tears spring in your eyes, and your throat feels like sandpaper.

"I don't know." It is the only thing you can think to say.

"Call me back when you have a real fuckin' solution and not whatever bullshit this is." He spits before hanging up the phone. You put the receiver down and bury your head in your hands, trying your best not to cry. Your molars buzz, and it feels like your head is swelling with pain. His insults and backhanded comments echo in your ears, and you can't hold the tears back any longer. 

What a fucking shit show. You know Martinez won't do anything about the verbal abuse unless you're willing to lie about grades, which is a ridiculous request in the first place. Dalton's dad won't back down, and you can safely assume Coach Sanders is next up on the roster if you don't do something soon. Why can't you get a kid to turn in a fucking piece of paper? Are you really that bad of a teacher that you're losing an argument with a seventeen-year-old? Is this the hill you want to die on? 

You think about going upstairs and seeking refuge in Mrs. Tomlinson's English class, your favorite coworker and the one who hides the good snacks in her desk, but you know she has a class, and you don't want to embarrass yourself. Andie is seven hours ahead and probably asleep. You're friends with people from the bar but not good enough friends that you could call them crying about a situation like this. The realization that you're alone in this makes you more emotional, and you have to stifle your sobs behind your hand. 

You jump when your doorknob twists open again, and you half-expect Martinez to be there with an I-told-you-so look on her face. You quickly turn so your back is to the door and wipe the tears on your face. You can't stand to be humiliated again today. When you turn back to see who entered your classroom, Joel's big brown eyes soften when he sees how upset you are. 

"Honey," he murmurs, and you almost start sobbing again at his soft tone. "What's goin' on?" 

"I didn't know you were coming today." You sniffle, trying to pull yourself together. He walks over and drops his toolbox on a nearby table so he can pull you up from your chair. 

"Supposed to be a surprise." He says as he tucks you into his chest. You hug him tightly and let him rub your back in the quiet of your classroom. His shirt smells like laundry detergent and the cold wind sweeping through the hill country. He should be wearing a jacket, but he's not, and you can feel goosebumps on his skin. For a minute, you just cling to him and cry, staining his shirt with tears, but he doesn't care. He's patient and shushes you gently as he adjusts his hold on you to bring you closer. You bury your face in his neck, and he kisses your head. 

"What are you doing here?" You ask into his skin. 

"I found your missin' piece for the projector. I thought I'd come install it for you so you'd stop fallin' off things tryna get it to work," he says. He leans back just enough to swipe your hair out of your eyes and rests his hands on either side of your face so you can see him. You want to turn away because you know you look like a crying mess, but he doesn't flinch. "There she is," he whispers fondly when you meet his eyes. "Your turn. What happened that's got you all upset?" He asks, swiping his thumbs under your eyes to catch stray tears. 

"Just… a really shitty call with a parent." You say, not wanting to get into specifics just yet. 

"Anythin' I can do?" He asks, and you shake your head. Just his presence is enough to make you feel better. His big, warm hands holding you like you're precious is a big plus, too. You run your hands over the muscles hidden by his shirt and take a deep breath. 

"Just this," you say, and he smiles. "'S a very nice surprise."

"I might've had ulterior motives." He says sheepishly, and you chuckle.

"What are your ulterior motives, maverick?" You ask. You honestly don't know where the nickname came from, but it's stuck around. You've heard it used by old southern women when talking about someone who's independent or doesn't follow the rules. "There goes maverick again!" They'd say when their unruly son would go speeding by in the kitchen. You think the private name suits him.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks quietly, without a hint of shame or doubt in his voice. You almost fold just because of how he's looking at you through his long eyelashes. Almost. The age-old sound of your projector whirring reminds you where you are, and you straighten up.

"Not here."

"After I fix the projector?" He negotiates, and you laugh at how quickly he bounces back.

"After you fix the projector and we're not on school campus anymore." 

"Deal," he says as he turns away from you and toward his toolbox. "You should time me. This might be the fastest replacement I've ever done."

"You're really that motivated now?" You tease, the levity between you two draining the dredges of your bad afternoon from your brain. He smiles and digs in his toolbox for the right screwdriver. 

"For you? Of course." He says. You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting a smile, and he winks at you. He's barely standing on a chair before you grab his arm and stop him.

"Wait," you say. You're not really sure what the plan is, but you also don't care. Joel, however, looks confused. "I found an old step stool in my storage closet the other day, but it's on the top shelf. If you can get it down, that might be a little safer."

"You've had a step stool this whole time, and you're still climbin' on tables?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at you. "You're gonna put me in an early grave one of these days."

"Quit that," you laugh as he steps off the chair. "I didn't have time to get it down whenever I needed it, and I just forgot about it until the other day. C'mon, I'll show you where it is." He sighs dramatically but follows you into the dusty storage room filled floor to ceiling with various art supplies. It's hidden by a suspicious-looking, windowless door just off to the right of your classroom. You think it might've been used as a tornado shelter when the school was much smaller and younger, but since then, it's been renovated into a personal storage room. 

The second the door closes behind him, you turn around, push him against it, and kiss him before you can change your mind. He gasps into you like he wasn't expecting this but quickly grabs your waist, anchoring to you and kissing you back feverishly. You really had planned on making him wait until you were safe, far away from school grounds, instead of pulling him into the nearest private space like a teenager. But you figured if Martinez can break the rules, why can't you? 

Your hand snakes through his hair and plays with the curls at the nape of his neck, drawing a content sigh from Joel. His lips are a little chapped and firm against yours. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, and you want more. You tip your mouth up to him to kiss him deeper, and he grips your hips hard, his fingers grazing the skin just under the hem of your shirt. You test scratching your nails over the back of his neck, and he shudders beautifully under your touch. In one move, he switches places with you and pins you between him and the door. 

With him in control, he slows down just a little, kissing you softly like he's got all the time in the world. You've realized Joel likes treating you like you're made of porcelain. Like all it would take is one wrong move, and you'd fall apart under his touch. He lets you make the first move every time, tying his hands behind his back until you say the word in an impressive show of self-control. Even at the art gallery, when there was so much tension between you, you thought you'd choke on it; he wasn't the one who initiated. The knee-jerk reaction of flipping your positions against the door to take control is his first show of power, and you like it. What do you need to do to get him to do it again?

The bell sounding through the intercom breaks you apart, and you groan at the intrusion. Nothing is keeping you after school today but you aren't ready to separate from Joel just yet. You rest your head on the door and stare at him as you vaguely hear the sounds of rowdy kids flooding the hallways. His lips are swollen and a little pink, and his hair is messy from all your pulling. 

"What?" He questions your staring and you shake your head.

"I just like looking at you," you say. "Your hair is also a mess, but that's a completely different story." 

"And whose fault is that?" He laughs and musses his curls back into place. You help with a few strands at the back and smile when everything is tame again. 

"Good as new." You say. Now, it's his turn to peer at you, and you give him a confused look. You swipe under your eyes as if there's mascara stuck there and fix your hair, waiting for him to give you the all-clear, but he just chuckles.

"I can't believe you pulled me into a closet to make out." 

"Me neither, honestly." You admit as the both of you dissolve into delirious laughter. You wait in the closet for a few more minutes so the hallways can clear out (and you can kiss a little more) before you finally exit, checking that it's clear and then opening the door wider for Joel. When he sees his toolbox sitting on the desk where he left it, he sighs and glances between you and the ceiling. 

"I'm never gonna get to fix that goddamn projector." He mutters, and you laugh as you pass in front of him and pat his shoulder. 

"Next time, maverick." You say. His grumbles disappear as you pack up your stuff side-by-side in silence. It's nice to not feel like you always have to fill the space with conversation. It's enough for papers to rustle as they land in your bag and his tools to clink as they find their proper homes. The hallways have gone quiet, and the eerie silence of an empty school slowly creeps up on you. 

Joel's boots squeaking catch your attention as you unplug your computer and start turning off various lamps around the classroom. He stands in front of the whiteboard where you have a big print of a Rothko painting displayed for today's art history lesson. He tilts his head as he looks at it like he's trying to find some hidden meaning or perspective, and you smile to yourself at the motion. 

"Lots of people think it's not much to look at." You break the silence from the back of the room, and he looks at you over your shoulder.

"I didn't say that."

"I know. I'm just letting you know what certain historians say," you say. You finish with all the lamps, and the only light coming into the classroom is the little bit of natural light streaming in from the windows near the ceiling. Stray dust spins in the air as you join him in looking at the poster of the Rothko, and you try to imagine what he's thinking. 

It's a little unnerving, like most of the ones Rothko made towards the end of his life. The vast darkness on the top half of the painting is daunting, while the gray at the bottom helps ground the viewer, at least a little. If you look closely enough, you can see the various washes and brushstrokes he used to create the painting. Obviously, a lot of skill and time went into something like this, even though not everyone wants to see it. "It's hard to know what it meant to him. It probably didn't mean anything, honestly. He wanted people to have sensory experiences with his art, so you only get as much as you put into it." You explain, and Joel nods but doesn't look away from the painting.

"Is it the surface of the moon?" He asks. 

"What makes you say that?" You interrogate, trying to hide your excitement at getting to hear him tell you what he thinks of art. 

"Well, it kinda looks like I'm standin' on the moon and lookin' out into space." He says as he runs his finger over the divide between the two colors. 

"Where's the Earth, then?"

"Maybe I'm on the dark side of the moon." 

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says. "Maybe the Earth is just too far away, and I can't reach it, but I know it's there. If the moon started spinnin' faster or somethin', I could see it, but maybe it's not for me to see..." It's incredibly profound, even if he doesn't realize it. You see where he's coming from based on what you know about his past and almost want to reach for his hand, but you don't. "But I don't know. What do I know bout art?"

"A lot," you answer quickly, hating how he talks about himself like he's stupid. "You know a lot. That was a really good analysis." He hums noncommittally and bumps your shoulder with his. 

"What bout you? What's it to you?" He asks, and you sigh as you look the colors over again.

"A wall and the night sky." 

"A wall?" 

"Yeah. It's either protecting me or keeping me in, but either way, it's there, and there's not much I can do about it. I could stay where I am and never find out what's beyond it and be safe, or I could climb the wall and never be the same again. I wouldn't know what's behind it or what's out there— that's why it's all black at the top— but maybe that's what's so interesting about it. The unknown." You say, and Joel hums. 

"You should be a teacher or somethin'." He says, and you laugh and move to grab your backpack off your desk. 

"It just might be in the cards for me," you say. "What's Ellie doing tonight? Don't you have to pick her up?" 

"She's actually going to the movies with some friends tonight." He says, beaming with pride, and you gasp dramatically.

"Is she really?"

"Sent her with twenty dollars and everythin'."

"Oh, that's so good! She's doing so good! I knew art club would get her out of her shell." You clap your hands, and he nods, smiling.

"She certainly ain't shy anymore. It feels like she's always on the phone with someone these days." He's a little nostalgic for the little girl who used to cling to her dad, and you make a sympathetic sound. 

"Don't you worry. I'm sure she'll want to hang out with her old dad during winter break."

"Old?!" He parrots as you usher him out of the room, your keys jingling on your arm. 

"Her words, not mine." You say as you walk out into the empty hallway with him and lock your classroom door behind you. He scoffs and grumbles something under his breath but doesn't push you for any insider information on Ellie. You like having your secrets with her, and as long as she's not a threat to herself or others, you'll keep those secrets until she's ready to tell him. 

You walk out to the parking lot together to catch the last few rays of sun scattering across the sky and smile when you see that Joel somehow managed to park close to your car. He loads his tools up in his truck bed while you throw your backpack in the backseat, but neither of you gets in your car immediately after things are settled. Instead, you wander back over to his truck and lean against one of the doors. 

"So, if Ellie's out with friends, what are you doing for the rest of the night?" You ask, and he smirks, stepping into your space. You think about scolding him, but the parking lot is practically empty. Plus, you like having him close. In the orange light of dusk, you feel safe next to him and his truck. He quirks an eyebrow at you and looks serious. 

"Are you askin' me on a date?"

"It's not a date."

"Is this the same thing like you weren't gonna kiss me, and then you did?" He teases. You roll your eyes and push off his truck, putting your arms up in defeat. 

"I didn't realize Joel Miller hated spontaneity so much. Fine, I'll stop doing it." You start walking back toward your car, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back before you can get far. You smile when your chest collides with his and look up at him. 

"Now, I didn't say all that," he says. "'M just surprised. You're gettin' ballsy."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't think so," he says as he leans forward like he's about to tell you a secret. "I think it's pretty hot, actually." He whispers lowly in your ear, his breath fanning out across your neck and making your face hot. You shove at his shoulder, but he just laughs and grabs your hand. "What? You don't like me callin' you hot?" 

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" 

"I ain't hearin' a 'no.'" 

"Yes, Joel, I like it. Is that what you wanna hear?" You finally relent, and he shrugs with every ounce of sass.

"Maybe," he says. "I also wanna hear what you were thinkin' for our not date."

"Oh, something super romantic." 

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Whataburger meals and milkshakes." You say, and he makes a play at his knees giving out under him. 

"A woman after my own heart." He groans, and you roll your eyes. 

You could take separate cars. It'd probably be easier for getting home and take away an extra stop, but you don't really care about that when you climb into the passenger's side of his truck. He doesn't seem surprised by your decision to ride with him and rests a hand on your thigh the second he pulls out of the school parking lot. He asks about your day, painting, and even if you've heard anything else from Henry as he drives. You rant a little about Principal Martinez and ask about his day, so he gets a turn ranting about headers and structural issues. You're not exactly sure what he's talking about, but you nod and listen anyway, and he doesn't critique you for not knowing. 

When you get to Whataburger, you have to scout to make sure there are no teenagers you recognize before going in. Of course, he opens the door and lets you order first like a gentleman, but you elbow him out of the way so you can pay before he can even reach for his wallet. By the look on his face, you would've thought you ripped a cookie out of his hands. "It's my turn!" You say, but he still looks shocked when you hand him his orange and white striped cup. You choose a booth near the back and continue talking about your days or recent developments until your food comes, and then you talk in between bites. It's not romantic, but it is comfortable. 

He updates you on Sarah's progress in medical school and even shows you pictures on his phone of the last time the three of them were all together. He looks lighter when he's with the both of them like all the pieces of his heart are bound in those girls. You like to think it is. He tells you how he's looking at grants for small-business owners in Austin and is eligible to apply for a good amount. "'M just nervous I won't get any." He says, and you shake your head.

"They've got insane amounts of money they're looking to give to hardworking people. I bet you'll be a millionaire by the end of this bet." You say, and he chuckles as he pops a fry in his mouth. 

"What bout you?" He asks.

"What about me?"

"How's the search for a gallery goin'?" You take a deep breath at his question and shrug.

"I don't really have anything to submit just yet, but some places are taking rolling submissions, so I can send something in whenever. I just want it to be good." 

"'M sure it will be." He says, and you give him a look. 

"You haven't even seen any of my work. What if it's awful?"

"Then I'd lie and say it's the best thing I've ever seen." 

"So you’re a iiar." 

"At least, I'd be a considerate liar." He says. You're about to start arguing with him about it when a pair of familiar eyes meet yours across the restaurant. Before you can even think about a tactic to get out of the situation, she's already up and walking toward your booth.

"Oh, shit," you mutter, and Joel's eyebrows furrow until he finds who you're looking at. His face falls exactly the same way you're sure yours did.

"Hi!" Marnie greets as she lands in front of you. "I haven't seen you in a minute!"

"I know! I've been meaning to text you about getting drinks, but I keep forgetting!" It's a lie. A considerate lie, but a lie nevertheless. 

"Oh, you're too sweet. We'll set somethin' up," she says as she turns to Joel. "And you! I haven't seen you since Sarah moved. How is she?" Oh, shit. How does she know you and Joel? He recovers quickly with a charming smile and a nod.

"Yes, ma'am. She's doin' real good up in Boston. Keepin' outta trouble and everythin'." 

"And Ellie? How's she doin'? She still makin' art?" 900,000 people in Austin and countless Whataburgers within 100 square miles, and the person who walks into the one you're in is the one you used to work with at school. Not only that, but she knows Joel's kids. She knows Joel. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Yeah, she's still doin' art. She's good at it. She's seein' a movie with some friends from school tonight." He says, and Marnie's eyes light up at the mention of the high school while Joel tenses.

"Oh, my gosh, how's the new classroom? I completely forgot they renovated that old teacher's lounge a couple years ago." 

"It's good. The equipment's a little old, but nothing's fallen apart yet. You'll have to come see it sometime."

"We'll have to find a time!" She says, always insanely cheerful. "Well, I'll let y'all get back to your meal, but I'd be kickin' myself if I didn't come over here and say hello to you two. Joel, please tell the girls I said hi."

"Yes, ma'am," Joel says politely. With that, Marnie turns and walks back to her waiting husband and says something that sounds like, "I know them!" Your food is suddenly cold and unappetizing when you look at it, and your stomach is in knots. The warm bubble around you and Joel has burst, and you're left in the stark light of the truth. "D'you wanna go?" Joel whispers, and you nod. 

He takes your trays and throws away the food before opening the door for you to walk out into the cool night air, avoiding Marnie's stare the whole time. He doesn't reach for you or help you into the truck. He barely looks at you until you're in the safety of the cab. The world is spinning around you, and alarms are sounding in your brain. What the fuck just happened?

"How do you know her?" You ask Joel, staring straight ahead, and he swallows hard.

"She was Sarah and Ellie's science tutor," he says, and your eyes flutter shut. "How do you know her?"

"She was the science teacher at the high school during my first year there. She left to go to a different school after that, but we were pretty close."  

"So, she knows you're a teacher at the same school my kid goes to."

"And she knows Ellie does art, so she knows she would be one of my students." You slowly piece together how bad this could be. You got caught having dinner with the parents of one of your students. If Marnie says anything, word could travel through the district until Martinez hears about it. You'd be in much more trouble than you already are with her. You could be accused of giving Ellie special treatment and violating school policy. 

"Fuck." Joel mumbles, mirroring your exact thoughts, and you nod. 

"We can't do this." You whisper, not wanting to admit it, especially after such a nice day with him. He doesn't protest. He feels the gravity of the situation. You want to put your hand over his. You want to hug him. You want to comfort him the way he comforted you, but you can't. 

"I know." His voice is even and controlled like he's choosing his words carefully, but you can hear the disappointment in his words. You can't go back to an hour ago when you were laughing and pulling him into storage rooms. You have to stay where you are. You have to stay safe. He is the personification of your wall and you have to be okay with not knowing what’s beyond it.

You can't do this.

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