#built in side burner

[theautumnsociety]

Patio in San Francisco A mid-sized, modern backyard kitchen with a stone patio is an example. It has an addition to the roof.

[mikrokcsmos]

That That (I Like That)

synopsis; in which your boyfriend’s loud moans and groans wake you up from your sleep at 4 in the morning and you’re about ready to throw hands — and so is he, but for completely different reasons.

pairing; vlive!jungkook x girlfriend!reader

genre; twinge of angst, mainly fluff and humor, Weverse live au

rating; PG-13

warnings; the word damn (x2) and suggestive dialogue/themes, just boyfriend koo in all his glory tbh

w/c; 1,283

a/n; don’t mind the poor excuse of a banner I tried to make on my own. shout out to @sftk0o for the perfect icons 💕

You tried to ignore it, you really did; believing the first loud moan you heard was a part of the not so innocent dream you found yourself in that involved your boyfriend only moments ago. Eyelids closing as you relaxed your body once more, head snuggling back into your pillow to begin the descent back into said racy dreamland — only for it to be interrupted by a loud distanced slam, your body tensing in fear, heart racing.

“DAMN.” He grunted, no – moaned out loud, you picturing his face instantly – brows pinched in concentration and nose scrunched cutely, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth. Can almost hear the low whine in your head that he always does just as he finishes—

Hands immediately searched the bed next to you for a warmth that was non-existent, all that greeted you being the cold fabric of the sheets that have been pulled back for quite some time it seemed. Another loud slam, accompanied by the same noticeable whine following not even a second later has you pushing yourself out of the bed, but this time not in fear, no.

This time it was because of pure and unadulterated anger.

Running on pure adrenaline, head in a fog and mind racing with worst case scenarios to what you’re about to witness has your bare feet bringing you closer and closer to where the noise continues to resonate from — the kitchen.

Just as you’re about to turn the corner, you freeze, hand on wall, a drawn out ‘damn’ piercing your ears that has your eyes welling with bitter tears on the verge of falling. Nails digging into the white of the wall, you push off, utilizing the momentum to push you the rest of the way into the kitchen and in full view of the sight in front of you.

Your voice dies in your throat, before it reaches your mouth, and you remain silent.

Jungkook has his head face down into the edge of the table, fists clenched on either side as his arms flex from the action. Quietly, you edge forward towards his hunched over form, eyes scanning the room around you for any other human other than yourself, and your body sags in relief as you start to piece together the cause of the grunts, moans, and curses.

Food. Fucking food. You should’ve known.

The aroma fills your nostrils, causing your own mouth to salivate and you weren’t even hungry. The smell of freshly sautéd chicken, scallions, and melted cheese wafts in the air along with the nutty flavors of sesame oil from the large skillet that still sits on the burner of the stove built into the table, most of its contents long gone. A bowl of microwaveable white rice sits next to a clenched fist, the other one now raised in the air as if preparing to strike someone, a spoon nestled in the last remnants.

Jungkook, still high off his food induced fever, pushes himself up to immediately unleash the finger guns of a choreo you know all too well at this point, his hips thrusting in time to the tune you have no doubt is engrained in his brain at this point as well as yours.

Despite your best efforts to remain as quiet as possible, you not missing the way his phone is suspiciously propped up against a stack of cookbooks neither of you have bothered opening yet that lets you know he’s currently live on Weverse, a puff of laughter from your lips causes him to pause mid hip thrust, wide doe eyes landing on your amused figure.

“The food was that good, hm?”

A sheepish, guilty grin is all you get in reply, his feet moving him towards you. When he’s close enough, his head dips down to brush a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Did I wake you?” He quietly questions, brows furrowed in worry when he notices the red that is prominent along your eye line. “Did you have a bad dream? Were you crying?”

The questions are in rapid succession, and you have to place the palms of your hands against his lightly stubbled chin, pressing his cheeks together and making his lips pucker at you like a fish to get him to stop talking long enough for you to explain.

“Your wanton moans are what woke me up, made me think that there was—,” you trail off, voice barely a whisper. “—other activities taking place in here that didn’t involve eating food.”

The sharp intake of breath he does let’s you know he understands the hidden meaning behind your words, his hands coming up to pull yours off of his face, and bring your body flush against his. A frown is now prominent on his usually smiling lips.

“Baby, I hope you know I would never cheat on you. Especially not in our house, and in our kitchen. This—,” his large hands trail down your sides, leaving nothing but warmth in their wake. “—is all I’ll ever want or need. You are it for me, jagi.”

A heat makes it’s way up your neck and to your cheeks, his words warming your heart and the inner guilt that festers within you unraveling.

As you stare into his brown eyes, you see nothing but truth and love, nothing but future and promise.

“I know. Im sorry for even allowing the thought to cross my mind. It was stupid of me to think. Besides, I don’t think I have to worry about any person stealing you away from me.” Your fingers interlock behind his neck, arms hanging loosely around his neck. “Food on the other hand? Now that’s what I should be concerned of. That chicken had you making noises I only ever heard you make in the bedroom.”

His head drops into the crook of your neck as he lets out an embarrassed whine, warm breath and lips that brush against your collarbone making goosebumps erupt on your skin and you shiver. His arms circle your waist in a vice grip as his upper body relaxes against your shorter one.

“Sleepy, baby?”

“Mhm. ‘m tired.” He mumbles into your skin sleepily, voice laced with a newfound exhaustion due to his full and satiated belly.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

“Yep, just gotta turn the live off first.”

“Jeon Jungkook, you and your random late night lives will literally be the death of you.”

He reluctantly straightens up, arms leaving your body to stretch up into the air above his head as he lets out a loud yawn.

“No, they won’t, baby.”

“Need I remind you of the candle incident?”

Eyes squinting at you, tongue in cheek, he remains silent and you know you’ve won this round.

“I’ll be waiting in bed, don’t take too long, okay?”

You take a step back as he takes a step forward, lips chasing yours for a quick, yet equally as lingering kiss that makes your breath catch in your lungs. Noses touching, he whispers so only you can hear.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, and your foodgasms.”

You snicker and turn to make a fast getaway, his fingertips only having enough time to graze the swole of your ass as you skip away from him and disappear around the corner until you’re out of sight.

It only takes five minutes for his sock clad feet to slide into the entrance of your room, and two seconds for his body to land on yours as you erupt into a fit of laughter on your shared bed that turns into soft sighs, grunts and moans that you know is because of you this time.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Where can a man get a beer around here?” Bucky’s voice distracts you from watching the starchy boil of potatoes.  

You step back look at him as he fills the doorway. The house was built in another time. People were smaller. Or maybe he’s just big. 

“Oh, the beer stores about fifteen minutes away.” 

“Great,” he says. “Phone can’t find it. Map’s blank.” 

“Ah, yeah, up here, that happens,” you say. “Fifteen minutes driving. It’ll be at least an hour on foot.” 

“Right,” the disappointment is crisp in his voice. 

“I got a case of Molson in the fridge. Neighbour’s wife was sick and I helped out. Gesture of kindness... for anyone that drinks. You’re welcome to it.” You take a fork and poke at the potatoes. “It’ll end up in the sink anyway.” 

He inhales audibly, “you don’t mind?” 

“As long as you don’t. I don’t know if it’s any good. I’m not a beer person. Unfortunately, everyone else around here is,” you turn off the burner and lift the large pot. 

You carry it to the sink and dump the potatoes into the strainer. A cloud of steam puffs up and sets a sheen over your face. You grunt and put the hot pot aside. You lift the colander and shake out the excess water. 

You look over your shoulder and set it back down. He’s still in the doorway, watching. It must be strange. To be fair, you feel the same. You’re not used to company and he’s a far way from home. 

You go to the fridge and break off a tall can from the six-pack. You bring it to him and his lips clamp sheepishly, “thanks. Coulda waited til dinner... you need help?” 

“I got it,” you assure as you hold out the can.  

He takes it an examines the label. “More of a Heineken man.” 

“Like I said, I wouldn’t know the difference,” you shrug. 

You return to the sink and dump the potatoes back into the pot. He lingers at the door as he cracks the can. You cross to the fridge again as tension pinches the nape of your neck. You take out the butter and milk. The door sucks shut and you sniff as you back up. 

“I... never been to New York,” you say to fill the void. “I hear it smells.” 

“Stinks,” he agrees. “Born in Indiana but I ended up in New York. Home to me. Or... was.” 

“Right,” you nod as you add some milk and butter to the potatoes and grab the masher. “I grew up south of here. Small town but closer to the city. Compared to this it was a metropolis.” 

“It’s quiet up here.” 

“Sure it,” you agree. “It’s nice. Most of the time.” 

You put a lid on the pot to keep it warm and go to the stove. You turn off the steamer as the lid begins to tremble. The timer on the stove counts down. 

“I can take you to the beer store tomorrow. Sorry but I hate driving after dark. The moose don’t exactly abide by the rules of the road.” You explain. 

“It’s fine,” he takes a loud slurp. “It’s beer. It’s not...” he sucks his teeth loudly. “You know, I can’t even get drunk. The taste is just familiar.” 

“Fair enough,” you hit the cancel button before the time can yell at you. “Dinner’s ready.” 

You open the cupboard and take down two plates. You lay them out side by side and work at doling out the portions. His shadow hovers on the other side of the stove. 

“Thanks, you know,” he dares to inch closer. “You already put a roof over me, now you’re feeding me.” 

“No biggie. Just the way up here.” 

He sniffs and gets closer, peeking at the pan as you carve out a hunk of meatloaf, “hadn’t had good home cooking since... well, I been living off the microwave crap or take out.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you warn him. “It’s nothing special, I manage. As long as the meat’s cooked, I’m not complaining.” 

“Me either,” he agrees. You lift the plates but before you can bring them to the table, he stops you. He puts the beer on the counter and brings his hands to the edges of the plates. “I got it.” 

You let him take the food and he brings it to the table. You watch him then scoop up the can and follow him. It’s going to be an adjustment. For both of you. 

You put the Molson next to his plate as he’s reluctant to claim his seat, “dig in. It’ll get cold.” 

You go back to grab cutlery and come back. You sit and hand him a knife and fork. He reaches with his left hand and hesitates as you look at his metal digits.  

He clutches the cutlery and quickly retracts. You don’t mention it though you do wonder if he’s embarrassed. Why? Isn’t that what makes him special? A hero? Or whatever he is. 

“This place is old. My ma had the same lintels on her doors in 1934.” He points with his fork to the door frame. 

“Old on top of old. Those are actually from the twenties. No one was doing renos in the thirties, I’m sure you know that. Somewhere back there, one of my great great whatever’s put in a stove and fridge and wired the place up. Kept the fire stove though. Antique now.” 

“Antique, like me,” he scoffs. 

You nod, unsure how to respond. You hope you don’t think you were implying anything. You get a bit carried away. Your mother and grandmother were always into genealogy and you caught a bit of the bug. 

Or maybe he thinks you’re over explaining. He was alive. He would know all these things and could guess the rest. You bite into the meatloaf and stare at the painted trim on the plate. 

“Ma’s place was taken down. Lived near the base since dad was there and they flattened it for a firing range. Now the place in New York... drug den now. New York, glamourous, really. You’re missing out,” he tuts dryly. 

You look up at him and give a tight-lipped expression, “sorry to hear that.” 

“It is what it is. The world changes. With or without you,” he reaches for the beer and swigs. His blue eyes dart to the wall and sharpen. He put the can down with a bit of force and pats his chest. He feels around and grimaces. “I’m gonna have a--” there’s a crinkle and he slides out another sucker. “Well...” 

He waves the candy at you and stands. You watch him silently and scrape your fork through the mashed potato. He twirls the stick between his fingers. 

“It’s good,” he points to his plate, “really.” He clears his throat and shifts on his feet, “back soon.” 

He turns and marches out. You look down at your food and slice into the loaf. The grainy scent of the beer wafts over. You take another bite as your forehead creases in thought. Sam’s a funny guy and this feels a bit like a joke. 

[silentmagnolias]

Uninvited

Choso

Wc. 2501.

Summary: Sweet, utterly down bad Choso finds a pair of your panties falling out of your tote bag that you’d left in the bathroom floor of his apartment. What happens when you return unexpectedly to find him in the most compromising of positions?

Cw. Panty sniffing, masturbation.

“Ah, fuck I forgot my bag up at your place.,” you whined and cursed a little at the realization you’d left your bag—with your phone and clothes up the at the apartment Choso and Yuji shared.

Yuji snorted in response and Megumi raised a brow at your forgetfulness. You’d spent the majority of the summer with the trio (and occasionally, Yuji’s older brother, Choso) beating the heat in the complex’s ample swimming pool or galavanting around Tokyo on days you all weren’t on missions. Being an older, more experienced grade-one sorcerer, the trio had kind of unofficially adopted you as a mentor-turned-friend.

“I’m positive you’re going to have dementia by the time you’re 35.” Yuji joked from his place in the pool, attempting to swim on his back, earning a swift flick to the Adam’s apple from Nobara.

“You’re one to talk, you dunce.” She spat and Yuji instantly choked, righting himself in the water to throw her a petulant glare and rub a hand over the sore spot where she’d flicked him. You shook your head at the resulting banter that broke out between the two and snorted at the ‘please-god-make-it-stop’ glance Megumi threw in your direction. You snagged Yuji’s beach towel from the off-white deck chair and wrapped it around your middle, giving Megumi a sympathetic mock salute.

“I’ll be back!” You called over your shoulder and set off toward the apartment to grab your bag— and hopefully sneak a bite of whatever Choso had been cooking whenever you’d arrived earlier.

══════════════════

From the moment you had left to the pool with the younger sorcerers, Choso’s mind was on you, wandering to the way you’d stood so closely to him in the kitchen when you’d first greeted him— like you always did when you’d visit. You looked out for his little brother after all, so naturally he’d like you too. Maybe more than like. It was a warm, pleasant closeness that bloomed slowly over time, always casual. Always sweet. As he finished up in the kitchen, he allowed himself to think of something he’d shamelessly found himself indulging in as of late when he was alone.

A vision of domestic bliss— a sweet thought of you in the kitchen with him, wearing one of his T-shirts helping him learn to bake some horrendously sinful American recipe you liked to talk about.

Biscuits? Yeah, those.

Those are good. His eyes glazed over as he could practically see you in his T-shirt, smiling sweetly like you always did and talking to him as you sat on the countertop. He knew he was in trouble but he knew better than to jeopardize the friendship you’d built together. So he allowed himself to just stand there, head cocked to the side with his eyes glazed over, daydreaming of the things you’d talk about together sitting on that countertop.

He was so lost his reverie, he’d almost let the soup he had simmering boil over, but he fumbled and caught it just in time before turning the burner off and setting the pot to the side. He figured everyone would be up soon anyway, so might as well leave it out anyway.

His thoughts wandered once more to the way his T-shirt would probably hit just at the middle of your thighs and would ride up revealing the faintest slivers of the plushest parts of your upper thighs. He shivered at the thought.

God, he loved your thighs. Especially the way they looked in that bikini earlier... He cursed himself slightly for being too shy to join you at the pool but he couldn’t risk…. That happening. His gaze traveled down to the way his cock hung heavy in his pants, half hard already just thinking about your thighs. Thinking of the way they’d feel beneath the palms of his hands. The way the tops of them would pleasantly squish and give with every firm squeeze of his hand.

He swallowed thickly at the thought.

That was one physical aspect of his humanity he held immense disdain for. He felt pathetic popping a boner at the mere thought of your body and what made it worse, is lately it had become something that would be impossible to ignore until he relieved himself. Often, the nights you visited ended that way, with him in his bedroom whining and fucking his hand until he made the biggest mess of himself.

But even that wasn’t relieving. No.

No.

He needed more— something To make himself feel better.

How frustrating.

With a shaky sigh, he made his way to the restroom to grab the new bottle of lotion he’d purchased just for this purpose only to stop in his tracks at the sight of your tote bag on the floor. Your tote bag that had your clothes haphazardly falling out of the bag— including a pair of skimpy grey, rib knit panties.

Oh.

Choso’s breath quickened at the litany of impure, very human thoughts running through his mind coupled with an undertone of deep shame that almost made him leave the bathroom and opt to jack himself off with spit instead.

It wouldn’t hurt to just look, right? To feel them..

His hands twitched at his sides in the open doorway of the bathroom as he contemplated his actions.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering as he stared at the skimpy fabric of your panties— how you smelled there. He loved your scent, always lingering for an extra moment when you’d hug him just to breathe deeply and relish the soapy, vanilla vibe you filled his nose with—The smell of you permeating his soul when you were near. That had to be nirvana.

He gulped down the remainder of his trepidation and decidedly stepped inside the bathroom, shutting the door in a hurry and sitting himself down on the closed lid of the commode.

He reached down gingerly to grab the ruddy old tote bag and carefully sifted through its contents as if he were performing the most delicate task. He pulled out your T shirt and instantly brought the soft cotton to his nose, inhaling deeply, a low rumble of pleasure emanating deep from within his chest.

The smell of you was like an instant balm to his nerves, drowning out remaining apprehension he had in his mind. He could always wash everything, making sure you came back up from the pool to a warm meal and fresh-out-the-dryer clothes.

He inhaled greedily again, his cock now aching and his heart bounding in his chest from the excitement of the situation. He’d never done anything like this before.. but you smelled so good.

Eager for more, and more than a little high from his actions, he reached straight for what he’d really been curious about— the panties. They were surprisingly light and soft between his fingers, the lace trim and rib knit material providing deliciously contrasting sensations against his fingertips. He let out a shuddering breath as he held them up, inspecting them, taking in and imagining the thought of them snug against your hips and ample bottom. Against the space between your legs. It was enough to make his mouth water.

Without thinking about any further, he brought the material to his nose to inhale and he was most definitely not disappointed. His eyes rolled back in his head at the musky, heady scent of you that enveloped him. This felt like an entirely different level of wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. He was curious and completely down bad for you, that he couldn’t deny.

His breath came in gasps as he practically jerked his pants down to free his rigid cock from the fabric’s confines. He was already practically oozing pre-come from his flushed tip and his hips twitched and rolled of their own accord from excitement, a broken rhythm that demanded him give into his desire. So he did.

Choso bargained with himself that he’d do what he needed to do and rush everything straight to the washer so that you’d have fresh, warm clothes waiting for you by the time you got back. You’d be none the wiser.

Hopefully.

He spit quickly into the palm of his hand, wanting to waste no time and wrapped his hand around his cock to give himself what he craved. He set the pace, rotating his wrist in a way he knew would bring him to the heights he wanted to reach and crushed your panties against his nose once more, groaning low in his chest as the scent of you overtook him.

Something about adding the smell between your legs to this shameful little routine of his made him feel like a complete mess in no time at all. He was filthy for this but he didn’t care. He wanted, no, needed you in any way he could have you.

Your scent pushed him forward in an almost animalistic way, driving the tension in his belly to an almost unbearable level. He never knew he could feel this good by simply smelling you while he did this..

Choso fucked up into his hand aggressively with nothing but you on his mind, his toned abdominals flexing with exertion as he chased his high. He let his head fall back, still holding the fabric of your panties to his nose like a man possessed. His jaw had fallen slack now and a series of desperate, pathetic whimpers fell from his lips as he greedily inhaled you, committing your scent deep into his memory.

Pathetic. He was pathetic.

But so, so close.

A part of him was ready to get this over with, just so he could be in the clear from potentially getting caught so he could wallow in shame in peace but another part of him.. another sick, twisted part of him wanted this moment to never end. He wanted to feel good and he wanted YOU to be what made him feel good— even if this was all he could get.

Choso’s chest heaved and his cock leaked with every bounding pulse of his excitement. The pleasure was building white-hot deep in his belly in a way that was almost overstimulating.. but he couldn’t stop. Not yet.

So close.

In a split second moment of filthy desperation and bid for closeness he’d likely never get, he brought his other hand— and your panties down to wrap around the aching head of his cock. A dark splotch quickly bloomed against the grey fabric from where he practically dripped and he pulled his bottom lip through his teeth imagining himself making a mess of those pretty panties while you wore them. Yes. That’s what he wanted. He imagined your eyes heavy lidded and you staring down at him, whispering the filthiest things to him as he jerked off against your clothed cunt. He envisioned your hands touching him instead of his, the way your delicate little fingers would wrap around him. If only..

The tension continued to mount until it was unbearable and his breath came in ragged gasps. He almost missed the sound of the front door to the apartment opening and the hurried footsteps that stopped in front of the bathroom door.

Almost.

But he was too far gone to stop himself— with one more heave of his chest and jerk of his hips, Choso’s orgasm barreled through him with an intensity unlike anything he’d ever experienced and he was lost. Ruined.

It was euphoric.

His eyes rolled back and his cock filled your panties (and his hand) with an inhuman amount of sticky cum. Just when he’d think it was over, another thick, pearlescent spurt oozed into the ruined fabric of your panties. He bucked into his hand a few more times in a bid to prolong things, carrying himself through the remaining haze completely oblivious for a split second to the wide eyes that now watched from the open door.

You stood there utterly speechless at the sight before you when you’d opened the door. Your throat went dry as you studied the way Choso’s hips bucked out the remainder of his orgasm against his hands, the flex of his biceps and abs, the way his head was tilted back and his face contorted into something utterly sinful. The way your panties were now bathed in the most obscene amount of cum you’d ever laid eyes on— panties you’d been wearing just an hour before.

It was a few seconds that felt as if they’d stretched an entire eternity. A moment that left you feeling as if you were under water, unable to breathe. If Choso had felt that way about you, he’d never made any indication— sure, he was warm toward you, but Choso was that way with everyone he allowed into his inner circle. Ever enigmatic he was, no-nonsense a fair majority of the time in every day life, sprinkled in with that unmistakable softness and warmth in private. He’d always welcomed you into his home and had become someone you confided in. He was easy to talk to.

Choso’s eyes fluttered open and locked onto yours, having finally taken notice of you and his stomach instantly dropped at the sight of you in the doorway. He started to say something, to protest but you shut the door before he could call your name, effectively cutting him off. You stood there for a moment wondering what the fuck you had just hallucinated— it had to have been a hallucination, right?

Right?

You opened the door again to confirm that you had not been hallucinating. He was still there, your come-soaked panties still in hand staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

Of all the things you’d walked in on Choso doing, it had to be this. It wasn’t like you could judge though— in some sick way, you actually kind of understood.

It wasn’t like you weren’t similar or anything, after all. Like you hadn’t hoarded the one T-shirt he’d let you borrow months ago beside your pillow to sniff every night because he just smelled that fucking good. An intoxicating mix of soft earthiness, clean skin and something unmistakably sharp.

Okay, so maybe you really understood. Fuck.

You were interrupted from your brief inner monologue by the sound of Choso’s voice tentatively calling out your name. His cock had softened enough to be partially obscured by your panties, but the copious mess remained and stood out more against the fabric and his fair skin now that his cock wasn’t at attention. In any other circumstance, you’d be impressed with the sheer amount of cum that could come from one man, but all you could think of in the moment was the fact that Choso— your friend had pleasured himself with your panties.

“I’ll wash them. I’m sorry. I— I couldn’t. I just. I—.” He started trying to explain himself but you shook your head in response, effectively shutting him up again.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” You finally managed hoarsely after a few moments of careful consideration, trying with all your might to keep your eyes on his and not the mess between his legs. You opened your mouth to speak again when you were jolted by the sound of the front door abruptly opening and Yuji’s voice calling out your name.

In a split second decision you stepped inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. Choso looked like he was about to short circuit, sitting there wide eyed thinking of where he’d even begin trying to explain this to Yuji..

“Of course..” You hissed under your breath, knowing that there was only one thing to do. You weren’t about to let Choso be found in such a compromising position (and you weren’t about to throw him under the bus either) so you turned to him and put a finger to your lips, a silent request to keep quiet.

“I’m in here! My stomach hurts…” you called out and flicked the bathroom fan on in hopes of muffling any extra noise that may give the two of you away. You back up slightly away from the door and immediately recoil when you step in something wet, your expression screwing up into one of silent panic when you realized what it was.

What a fucking situation to be caught in.

Part 2??

[xsister-serpent]

Earbuds & Intrigue

Warning: 18+ MDNI, cursing, spicy audio, sexual explicit,

Summary: Goth!Reader is a supporter of a spicy audio content creator CraftedClassic on Patreon. Her routine office job takes an unexpected turn when she discovers that her new wealthy CEO is none other than CraftedClassic, the infamous spicy audio creator she admires.

A/N: This has been back burner of my computer for years and I finally had the time to work on it. This was heavily inspired by those spicy audio's on gone wild reddit. This is going to be a series for sure. Might make a playlist for this story. 🖤 Hope you guys like this take on CEO Kylo btw. Kylo's username is: CraftedClassic and Goth!Reader username is DeathMajesty. link for Part 2.

Having worked in the office all day had been tiresome and treacherous. There were daily reports to prepare since the month was almost over. It had been okay for you to come in two out of five days since the lockdown. In addition to not having your former employees next to you, you were able to listen to music and be on Zoom calls at your convenience. Although it wasn't important, you were a shadow in the background, and you appreciated that. Today was different, however; word got around that you were going to have a CEO boss. Rose, your cubicle mate (or, as you both coined the term, cell buddies), messaged you. You placed your dark wave music on hold as you saw her messages ring up.

ROSE: Morning! Hope you had your coffee. Just a little forewarning about the new CEO. He’s a bit uppity. 

Y/N: Aren’t they all? 

ROSE: He’s worse…he’s like a male version of Miranda Priestly. 

Y/N: Good thing I wear all black, huh? Can’t go wrong with that fashionable look. 

You chuckle and then go to work. You didn’t care about new people at this point if you were being honest. You expected an older man, of course, like all stereotypical CEOs, if not a preppy-looking man with a traditional family values background. As you went back to your reports, you saw Maz, your supervisor, entering the building along with a man dressed in a fine all-black suit.

He took off his sunglasses and glanced around the building. He had black shoulder-length hair, an aquiline nose along with beauty marks. He was tall and built, and the suit made him look all the more intimidating. He had an unusual handsomeness to him that caught you off guard.

‘Okay, you weren’t expecting that at all.’ You went back to your work, seeing Maz and him draw closer and closer to your workstation. You withdrew an earbud as you saw Maz wave at you with a kind smile, “Ah, the little ghost! Y/N is one of the best drafters we have here. Y/N, this is Kylo, the new CEO.”

You glance up at him and stuck out your hand, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Kylo's gaze was tense as he shook your hand, “Afternoon.”

You could see why Rose used that term; even his presence was intimidating. His hand gently but firmly shook your hand. ‘God, even his hands are huge,’ you thought. You could tell Maz was in a rush as she moved on to show Kylo more of the building.

“Reports looking good?” Maz spoke. 

“Always,” you mused as you went back to work.

Kylo trailed right behind her only to look back at you once from the corner of your eye. He leaned over to say something to Maz. She didn’t glance back but nodded assertion.

What did that mean? Was it your workwear? Was cooperate goth not good enough anymore, you’d be damn to wear those awful brown-colored company polos.

You were a ghost in that company, and you wanted to keep it that way; his attention was the last thing you needed. You were clocked out at 3:30 pm and cleaned the temporary workspace. You had messaged Rose on your break about the CEO. However, you didn’t mention the side conversation you saw with him and Maz. You kept that to yourself, trying not to think too much about it. You took off in your black car, blaring the deep vocals of Peter Steele as you drummed to the beat of the song. You pulled up to the light and waited, softly singing to the chorus of 'My Girlfriend’s Girlfriend’. As you glanced over, you saw him. Kylo. He was in a black convertible, of course, talking to someone on the phone with a narrowed look. Immediately, you turned the other way, avoiding contact. As you waited for the light, you quickly glanced at him, gandering him.

“Hmm, looks like you're made of old money—the quiet type of rich. Oh, check out that watch,” you quietly observed, “Breitling. Not quite a Rolex, though.”

 You turned your attention to the traffic light, and almost incidentally, you saw Kylo glance your way. You gripped onto the steering wheel and kept your eyes forward. 

‘He didn’t see you; he’s just checking out the window.’ You told yourself. 

Thankfully, his light had turned green, and in a roar of the engine, he took off.

You made your way back to your apartment and were greeted by your roommate's corgi, BB8. You gave him a boop on the nose and a little treat.

"Stop giving him treats Y/N, he’s gonna get tubby," Rey chuckled as she slipped on her shoes. You looked at the now-sad pup who shamefully went to his spot and sighed heavily.

"Sorry, BB," You soothed as you went to the couch, "You're out of here already?"

"Yeah, got a weekly meeting with 'the family'," she said as she slipped on her blazer, "I'll probably be back late, make sure BB gets half of his dinner." 

You looked at the tubby corgi who was almost hiding her face in shame. "Of course."

You knew Rey from high school and knew she, too, came from a rich family. One she said was a near mix of Succession. All the more it made you curious about why she'd want to live in a regular 2-bedroom apartment with you in a middle-class area. You could tell she hated family holidays, and most of the time, she spent it with your large, loud family if her dad was out of town.

"Sounds good," you nodded as you landed on the couch, taking off your docs. "Wish me luck; I'm meeting with my annoying cousin," she sighed.

"The one who totaled the car?" You chuckled as you remembered her story of the last Christmas party she went to with her dad.

"Yup," Rey spoke as she ran her fingers through her hair, "I need to get Bravo on my family; we'd make good headlines. Welp, I shall see you two later." Rey waved as she blew a kiss at her dog, leaving you alone.

 You looked over to BB8, who was now snoring into her blanket. With a chuckle, you got up and went to your room. You had changed into your black oversized tee and sweats as you mindlessly scrolled through social media. 

 Until a notification came from your subscription to Audios After Dark, a website for audio erotica. You stumbled across it and immediately got into it a few years back. It was better than seeing those fake pornos and way healthier for your sexuality—over the million accounts you had found one to your liking. A user named CraftedClassic had one of the smoothest and sexiest voices you had ever heard. 

 You listened to his introduction hearing his baritone voice through your headphones and you entered into the rabbit hole of his audio directory. A few times you had left him a tip and a little comment here and there to which he replied with appreciation. 

 You saw a new audio from him this time it was a script he created. In this scenario, he played a submissive something different from what he had usually posted. You just shut the door and pulled on your headphone clinking the link. You closed your eyes hearing him through your headphones. 

“I know it's been a long time since I uploaded but I hope you all enjoy this one, it was quite the experience for me,” he spoke with a deep chuckle.

 You are back on your bed hearing him describe his restraints and how he needed to be fucked. Immediately you felt that heat between your legs grow with excitement and lust. You went over to your nightstand and took out your viberator. His moans and pleas making you feel all the more excited for this audio. 

 You quietly went to work on your release picturing this man kneeling before you begging you for your touch on him.

‘Please I need this! I need you! I need to taste you in my mouth,’ CraftedClassic cried in pleasure mimicking what sounded like eating you out, ‘Fuck you taste soo good, I want you to break me..’

As you worked your fantasy your mind to Kylo as your vibe went a few stages higher on your clit. You pictured him being submissive his hands bound behind him as he buried his face between your legs moaning and whimpering into your throbbing pussy. You heard CraftedClassic wanton pleas and begging that made you finish with a silent cry of pleasure as he made the sounds of his climax. You came hard and fast, your body trembling as you felt yourself melting into pleasure. You lay there in a blissful state, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the experience. You heard CraftedClassic heavy breathing through the headset as he released another soft moan coming down from his undoing. As he closed his audio session you left a like along with a short comment:

10/10 Keep up the good work.

Almost within seconds, he replied. 

'Glad I could give you the satisfaction @DeathMajesty ;)'

You looked at his profile photo once more wondering what this CraftedClassic looked like out of curiosity but it was all anonymously which you couldn’t blame him for. 

“No digit footprint at all,” you sighed shutting your vibe off.

The digit footprint was always in the back of your mind but it was fine for this. Better spicy audios than a lecherous porn site that used sex workers’ content. You sighed and logged out of the site setting your phone to charge. 

 You went back to social media and doom-scrolled once more, seeing Rey's post on her social. She was in the upper side of the city taking dinner selfies with her good-natured father Luke and boyfriend Finn. But then something else caught your eye in the background. You paused her video and zoomed in. It was Kylo. A slight laugh escaped your lips connecting the two dots, he was the dread cousin Rey had told you about. You clicked his name but of course, it was private. The only icon of him was a black-and-white photo of his silhouette. 

“Interesting,” You chuckled going back to watching Rey’s post and exiting out of the app.

 You stopped scrolling and went to make yourself dinner settling in for a salmon bake bowl and coke. As you feed yourself you fed BB8 who was already spinning in excited circles for food.

[nenelonomh]

oral hygiene

perhaps since i am a bit younger than most of the people on this app, or since my nana had owned a kindergarten, i am so aware of the importance of hygiene and health practices. i feel that everyone has put simple things like this on the back burner, since covid, since the internet's takeover.

i remember, when i was younger (2015/16ish) (note: i clearly wasn't in kindergarden at the time, but this is when the memories are from), the halls of my nanas kindergarten were lined with posters that encouraged parents to look after their child's health. current kindergartens, and parents--perhaps due to technology and widespread knowledge-- prioritize other things. it's about time we took responsibility of our own health again.

oral hygiene is the practice of keeping your mouth clean and disease-free. it involves brushing and flossing your teeth as well as visiting your dentist regularly for dental x-rays, exams and cleanings.

brushing your teeth: ✩ use fluoride toothpaste to protect your teeth from decay (cavities). fluoride strengthens the tooth's hard outer surface (enamel). ✩ angle the bristles toward the gumline to clean between the gums and teeth. ✩ brush gently using small, circular motions. avoid scrubbing back and forth too hard. ✩ brush all sides of each tooth, including your tongue. ✩ replace your toothbrush when the bristles become worn.

HOT TIP: if you get bored with, or struggle to remember brushing your teeth, consider swapping to a minter (or other pleasantly flavoured) toothpaste. this will encourage you to continue the habit, since it is more enjoyable.

flossing your teeth: ✩ plaque can build up between teeth, leading to gum irritation and gingivitis. ✩ floss daily to remove plaque from these areas. ✩ if plaque hardens into tartar, only a dentist or dental hygienist can remove it.

replacing your toothbrush: ✩ as you use your toothbrush, the bristles gradually wear down. bent or frayed bristles lose their stiffness and effectiveness in cleaning your teeth. ✩ over time, your toothbrush accumulates bacteria from your mouth. bacterial growth on an old toothbrush can contribute to oral infections and bad breath. ✩ you should replace your toothbrush when you notice that the bristles have become worn, or every 3-4 months to prevent the buildup of harmful bacteria.

storing your toothbrush: ✩ before and after brushing, thoroughly rinse the bristles of your toothbrush under hot tap water. this helps remove toothpaste residue, debris, and any airborne bacteria or dust particles. ✩ after rinsing, tap the handle of your toothbrush against the edge of the sink to shake off excess water. this promotes faster air drying and prevents bacterial growth. ✩ store your toothbrush in a cup or holder. keep the bristles up and the handle down. this allows excess water to drain away from the bristles, preventing bacteria buildup. ✩ place the cup or holder in a well-ventilated area, such as a counter or shelf. avoid storing it in a dark, enclosed space like a drawer or cabinet. allowing your toothbrush to air dry completely helps prevent bacterial growth. ✩ avoid cross-contamination by keeping your toothbrush separate from your housemates, or family members.

electric toothbrushes: ✩ some may choose to use electric toothbrushes, where you only replace the head of the toothbrush. electric toothbrushes use oscillating, rotating, or sonic movements to clean teeth and gums more thoroughly. many models have built-in timers to ensure you brush for the recommended 2 minutes. most electric toothbrushes are rechargeable, reducing waste from disposable batteries. ✩ personally, i prefer to use a regular toothbrush, since i feel it does a better job cleaning my mouth. often electric toothbrushes require you to take longer to brush your teeth.

eating choices: eating choices play a significant role in maintaining good oral health. first and foremost, consuming sugary foods and drinks can lead to increased acid production in the mouth. this acid can erode tooth enamel, making your teeth more susceptible to decay. it's essential to limit your intake of sugary snacks and beverages to protect your oral health.

frequent snacking, especially on sugary and acidic drinks throughout the day can harm your teeth. aim for regular meals rather than constant snacking to give your teeth time to recover between eating episodes.

staying hydration is crucial for overall health, including oral health. dry mouth (which is called xerostomia) can increase the risk of cavities and gum disease. salvia helps neutralize acids and wash away food particles, so drink plenty of water to keep your mouth moist.

remember to maintain a balanced diet, rich in vitamins and minerals. it is essential for healthy teeth and gums. nutrients like calcium, vitamin D, vitamin C, and phosphorus contribute to strong teeth and support gum health. include dairy products, leafy greens, fruits, and lean proteins in your diet.

to conclude: remember that good oral health allows you to enjoy life by speaking clearly, tasting, chewing, and showing your feelings through facial expressions like smiling!

further reading: ✩ What’s the Most Sanitary Way to Store Your Toothbrush? • Brilliant Oral Care✩The Best Way to Store Your Toothbrush & the Mistakes You May be Making | Gentle Dental (interdent.com)✩Whatever You Do, Don't Store Your Toothbrush Here - CNET✩Why Should You Replace Your Toothbrush? And When? – Mouth Watchers✩How Often Should You Change Your Toothbrush? Healthy Etiquette (healthline.com)✩When To Change Your Toothbrush | Colgate®✩Oral Hygiene | National Institute of Dental and Craniofacial Research (nih.gov)✩Oral Hygiene: Best Practices & Instructions for Good Routine (clevelandclinic.org)

i hope this post was helpful!

❤️ nene

[esamastation]

Part forty-one of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty

-

"... So there's Natural Materia that grows and evolves and eventually spawns an offspring of exactly identical Materia that can then make the exact same journey - and then there's Artificial Materia that… doesn't?"

"You're really asking the wrong person - Genesis is the expert," Angeal sighs, rubbing at his forehead. "But yeah, that's basically it? Artificial Materia can still level up a bit, but it doesn't evolve or make a copy of itself."

Sephiroth nods, fascinated. "So Natural Materia basically does mitosis?"

"I… don't know what that is?" Angeal says, sounding lost.

They're walking through the forest, in between random encounters - following a wide old footpath towards the charcoal burner's house. The path has the signs of wheeled traffic where the dirt has really been compacted, but it was a while ago, and grasses have started taking real estate on the path. Still, it makes for easier walking than the wild, untamed forest.

"It's when something - a cell - splits into two identical copies," Sephiroth explains.

"Ah, then no, that's not exactly it - the offspring Materia is unleveled and undeveloped. It has to be matured anew," Angeal clarifies.

"Still. Eventually the offspring Materia becomes identical to the parent. It's asexual reproduction, at least," Sephiroth muses, fascinated by how organic it all sounds. Like Materia is actually a breed of organism doing what all living things do - eat and reproduce. And artificial versions are basically infertile! "I bet Artificial Materia still needs to be somehow seeded by the natural sort."

Angeal shrugs, helpless. "You'd really have better luck asking Genesis. Maybe you should send him a message, asking about it."

"Maybe I will," Sephiroth says, determined, and then looks up. "Heads up - bugs."

One random encounter later, they're back to walking.

"You know, you could actually just try using your Materia," Angeal comments. "Might give you some insight on how it works. Or do you not remember how?"

Sephiroth waves a hand. "You just push energy through the thing, it's not that hard."

"Then why not do it?"

Because MP is Qi, kinda, and using Materia basically burns it away. Or, well, transforms it. Part of it goes into the Materia being used, aiding its maturation, and the rest of it is transformed into whatever spell the Materia is for. It's very easy to use and very powerful and incredibly energy inefficient. And since Sephiroth still isn't sure whether he wants to take in ambient energy in the way of the locals, he isn't sure his MP actually replenishes? And sure, he could take an Ether, a potion that replenishes MP - but that's basically like drinking raw Qi, and the very idea is a bit alarming.

There's just a scary level of energy transference going on in this place, and his core is unstable enough!

Also Sephiroth would rather figure out how to consume the Materia itself, like you'd consume spirit stones - except he really doesn't need any extra Qi at this point.

"Maybe later," Sephiroth says and looks ahead for a distraction. "Oh, hey, is that the house?"

Angeal gives him a look, amused, but lets it go and looks ahead too.

The charcoal burner's house is built near to the side of a mountain wall, with three enormous charcoal kilns half carved into the stone of the mountain. The house is more of a homestead, with a large area cleared and fenced, with the house itself in the middle, a couple of storage huts, a stall, and a big shelter for wood.

It's a bit rundown, though. One of the storage houses has its rooftop caved in, and there's long grass growing everywhere. The charcoal kilns look not just cold, but like something had been nesting in one of them.

"That's strange," Angeal murmurs warily, looking around. "It… doesn't look like anyone's been living here for a good long while."

"Hmm," Sephiroth hums, crouching down to examine a footprint in the dirt. It's fresh. "Someone has been here very recently, though." Someone in modern footwear - with treaded soles. Not that he knows what kind of footwear the people of Wutai favour, but, still…

Angeal looks at the footprint and hums. "Be on your guard. There's something weird going on in here."

Cautious, they examine the place and find no signs of any monster attacks. What they do find is more footprints, all by the same set of shoes, going strong in the place and by all appearances checking out the buildings.

"Looking for something, maybe?" Angeal murmurs as they consider the footprints.

"Hmm. I don't see any signs of monsters," Sephiroth comments. "Didn't the mission files say the place was already attacked? Maybe we're in the wrong place."

"Maybe…"

While Angeal checks their mission files and coordinates to confirm they're actually in the right house, Sephiroth tries to figure out why it was abandoned in the first place. It wasn't sudden, that he can tell - whoever lived here had the time to pack up. Everything that's left was put away very neatly, too.

"Well, this is the right place," Angeal says, following him inside. "Either they got the coordinates wrong - or the intelligence."

"I guess it could be a trap," Sephiroth muses, poking around the charcoal burner's old office in search of any paperwork. "If this is really where an informant once lived, maybe that informant turned into a double agent and set a trap."

"You really think so?" Angeal asks, sounding more interested than alarmed.

"Not really," Sephiroth shrugs and picks up a crumpled piece of paper, someone's attempt at a letter that had gotten ruined by an ink smear. Gently he spreads it out on the office table to read. "Or else it's a terrible trap…"

The letter is addressed to someone's uncle, informing them of the charcoal burner's good fortune. Apparently their family had been invited by the emperor to live and work in the capital. Lucky guy.

"Maybe we should prepare for an ambush, just in case," Angeal comments thoughtfully, adjusting his gloves. "What do you think?"

"I think they would've revealed themselves already, if it was the case," Sephiroth says. "And this is a terrible place for an ambush anyway. It's far too open."

"Well, good thing it's not an ambush!" a voice calls from the outside before Angeal can answer.

"... Sounds like something an ambusher would say," Angeal mutters, clearly recognizing the voice, and Sephiroth chuckles.

Reno waits for them outside, lazily scratching at a bug bite on his arm. "Congratulations, you have been summarily recruited for a secret Turk mission," he says and motions around them. "Your station."

"Turk mission?" Angeal repeats. "It was you who sent out that mission file?"

"Yep," Reno agrees, shrugging unrepentantly.

Sephiroth watches him warily. He'd not interacted with Reno or Rude much, Angeal had kinda covered for him there. He'd not entirely sure why the Turks followed them to Wutai. Maybe this is it.

Maybe this is as far as he gets, before having to commit, one way or the other.

Sephiroth braces himself. "What's the mission?"

Reno grins and points a finger at him. "Your mission, starting right now, is to stay here," he says, "And get your shit together."

-

Man I've missed ff7 world so much. The whole magic system from Lifestream to Materia to summoning world ending Meteors from the sky is just 😗👌

I'm playing og ff7 while writing and none of the sequelsprequelsremakes come even close to comparing with how delicious Materia in the original game is.

[elizabethemerald]

Inside the Mystery Machine

I was inspired by @emmakubert 's art on the gang on the way to another mystery. I particularly liked the conspiracy board on the wall. I hope you enjoy this!

Interviewer: Max Stevenson: I’m here interviewing Mystery Inc, the group of young adults who managed to solve the Mystery of the Blair’s Haunted Mansion. So tell me, what inspires a group such as yourselves to solve crimes like this? 

The group is gathered around the open back doors of their vehicle, dubbed the Mystery Machine. 

Fred Jones: Well we don’t usually go out of our way to solve crimes, we want to solve mysteries. 

Daphne Blake: Yeah, it just turns out, a lot of the ghosts and creepy things are just creepy guys in masks. 

Velma Dinkley: Through the use of complex technologies, smoke and mirrors, and more than a little gullibility from the locals, they can pass themselves off as something truly haunted. 

Shaggy Rogers: Like, I’d prefer we not solve crimes or mysteries at all, but these things just happen to us.

Scooby-doo: Ruh-huh. Real rary ruff. [Uh-huh. Real scary stuff.]

I am momentarily blown away by their dog, Scooby-doo responding to my question. 

Me: You have a talking dog?!?

The group seem immediately dismissive, even the dog rolls his eyes.

FJ: Oh we’ve done a dozen interviews about Scooby already. Yeah, he can talk. Some things are just like that.

The group seems ready to leave, Blake and Dinkley already beginning to pack their belongings into the van while Rogers has gathered what looks like the entire pantry from the Blair Manor. Jones keeps his attention on me, but clearly looks like he is finished speaking on the matter. However, I am still interested in speaking with them. Looking around quickly I settle on the van they are packing. 

Me: Before you leave, I’m curious about your van, you travel around in it, correct? 

FJ: Oh yeah! She’s my baby! We’ve all worked together to fix her up, and keep her functioning. 

I can practically see the excitement from Jones to discuss the van in depth. The others are also more interested. 

Me: Why don’t you tell me all about her? With the four of you living in the van, do things ever get crowded?

Blake and Dinkley open the back doors wider, while Rogers continues packing away the food into a cabinet built into the side of the van’s wall. 

DB: Not really, we keep the back pretty open so when we stop for the night we have plenty of space for an inflatable mattress. 

FJ: And if we need a little more space we have the front two seats as well. 

Blake laughs and Dinkley giggles. 

VD: Freddy usually sleeps up there, he likes to keep watch to make sure nothing sneaks up on us. 

FJ: It’s come in handy a few times!

SR: It sure has Freddy, though Scoob here will wake us if anything bad happens. 

Me: It looks like the interior is pretty heavily modified, you even have a kitchen back here?

They do indeed have what appears to be a mini kitchen built into the wall. There is a single burner stove top, a mini fridge, and several cabinets. 

DB: Well Shaggy, this is your area, why don’t you explain?

SR: You know man, eating properly on the road is hard, so we gotta do what we can. The fridge and the rest of the lights inside run off solar panels that Velma installed. I usually try to prep a couple of meals whenever we stop in a new area so we have stuff as we travel. 

VD: The biggest problem is keeping this glutton and Scooby from eating it all!

The others laugh and Rogers smiles. Doo laughs and has a quite tall sandwich in his paws which he then eats in one gulp. The rest laugh like this is expected. 

FJ: Next up we have the armory! Daphne and I put this together so we would have all the trap things we could need to catch a crook or a spook. We’ve got ropes, nets, some projectors of our own, a jar of soap to make things slippery. 

Me: Freddy, you don’t actually have any weapons in your armory?

FJ: Please call me Fred. Freddy is for if we’re dating. 

Me: O…k…? 

DB: We have one weapon! I have a bat I keep in the front just in case someone tries to mess with us.

FJ: The thing is, we’re not monster hunters, or even like crime fighters or anything like that. We’re mystery solvers. 

VD: We could carry silver weapons, or salt, or holy water, or whatever the local rumors might say will banish or harm the ghoul of the hour. But again, most of what we face are rich weirdos in masks. All of that would be a waste, and we would already have to replace the holy water whenever it expires. 

SR: Holy water expires? Does it lose its holiness or does it like go stale? 

VD: Uh, it stays as holy as it was before, but it loses potency. But again, would be useless against like 67.3% of those we face. 

Me: Wow you sure know a lot about holy water.

DB: That brings us neatly to the next section of the van! 

FJ: Yeah Velms! Show em the library. 

Jones has come to lean on Blake’s shoulders while Dinkely blushes. 

VD: Yes I suppose our library is my brain child. 

She climbs into the back of the van to show a modest library opposite the rack of ropes and trap equipment. Several of the books look to be older than all of us combined. 

VD: These are books that I have gathered during our adventures. 

FJ: snickers You mean stolen! 

VD: Borrowed! I borrowed them! 

DB: Babe, i think borrowed means you plan on returning them at some point. 

VD: Anyways! While most of the mysteries we solve end up being caused by some land owner annoyed that he has to pay property taxes, or that he can’t legally exhort even more money from the local underprivileged persons-

DB: Your inner Marxist is showing again.

SR: I’m mean, she is right.

VD: As I was saying before these hooligans interrupted me, there is a small portion of the mysteries we encounter that are truly paranormal in nature, and having literature on their nature is invaluable, hence our collection of supernatural tomes. Of course, my actual library is here on my tablet in e-reader format. 

DB: And if you had a choice the whole van would be filled with books and we would have to sleep on the roof. 

SD: Rit’s not so rad. [It's not so bad.]

VD: And if you had your way, we would all sleep in one big bed at the Ritz!

FJ: Last up for the van tour is our map! 

Jones points to what can only be described as a combination conspiracy board and map of the country. There are red strings going every which way, newspaper clippings, and thumb tacks all over the place. 

DB: All of us work on this together. We don’t want to drive from one end of the country to the other chasing mysteries without a plan. 

VD: Daphne and I work together to track and verify rumors and stories that might be related to mysteries that might need our investigations. 

DB: Freddy then adds in the places we need to go to maintain the van, gas stations, pit stops, shops and stuff. 

FJ: My dad gave me a big atlas in case I ever ran into car trouble. 

VD: Then Shaggy adds the spots to maintain us, like food stops.

SR: And like, not haunted spots. We gotta relax sometimes, man.

SD: Rot that rit ralways rorks. [Not that it always works.]

SR: That’s true, sometimes mysteries just happen around us even when we aren’t searching for them. 

VD: Then I put it all into an algorithm to chart the most efficient path. This way we can get to as many mysteries as possible without having to put unnecessary miles on the van or stress on us. 

Me: Wow you really are a news worth bunch. So, Daphne, Velma, do you ever feel like you don’t have any privacy while traveling with the boys? 

The two women look at each other, confused. 

DB: Why would we need privacy? 

FJ: Hey gang, if we want to make our next stop by sundown, we should head out soon. 

Rogers finishes settling the food in the kitchenette and Blake and Dinkley clamber into the back. Doo runs around to the front of the van to sit in the passenger seat while Jones takes the drivers. 

SR: Like, thanks for the questions, man. See ya! 

Truly the members of Mystery Inc are an intrepid lot, and there are a few mysteries about the members themselves that still remain to be solved. Max Stevenson, signing off.

[pulisicsgirl]

spaces between us - christian pulisic

summary: Y/N and Christian's relationships has been strained lately due to conflicting schedules and minimal effort to spend time with one another. Y/N's plan to talk to Christian about it goes awry and drives the couple further apart from each other.

pairing: Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 5.3k

warnings/tags: angst and arguing (but it turns out okay in the end don't worry), Christian is a little bit of a dick, Y/N is a little bit overdramatic, but also sickening fluff, Christian is a lovesick twat, use of the phrase "whooping and hollering" (I'm sorry, I'm painfully American), hasty proofreading (because I’m posting this at 3 am and I have classes tomorrow morning), and like one suggestive comment

requested: yes!!!

notes: thank you so so much to @chelseagirl98 for sending this request in!! I had so much fun writing it, and I hope it lives up to your expectation! I tried a little something new with the text messages, so let me know what you think of that! Also, I think this is my first time writing a fight/make-up fic like this, so it might not be very good, but I welcome any constructive criticism! :)

As always, requests are still open! Send any ideas my way! 💙

You moved quickly around the kitchen, juggling bowls and ingredients as you did your best to prepare a homecooked meal to surprise Christian with when he got home from training. It wasn’t anything all that special, and you weren’t a five-star chef by any means, but you were trying your hardest—and that had to count for something, right?

For the last several weeks, you had sensed a distance forming between you and Christian. With his busy life as a footballer and your inconsistent work hours, it had been difficult to find time to see one another. On the rarer days that you were home together in the evening, you were both exhausted, quickly finding something to eat (often some takeout delivery that you ordered online) before setting things in order and going straight to bed. You couldn’t remember the last time you and Christian had just sat down to spend time together, sharing a conversation with any amount of substance.

After a particularly bitter morning where the two of you had moved around each other in the kitchen and bathroom without sharing a word or interacting almost at all, you had miraculously gotten out of work early. Deciding that enough was enough, you ran to the store to pick up some ingredients, resolving to cook a nice meal that you and Christian could sit down and eat together. You hoped it would give you a chance to catch up after the last few weeks of simply living in the same house but not truly being together.

It took you about an hour, but you completed the recipe successfully. As you turned off the burner on the stove and began dishing the food onto plates, you heard the jingle of Christian’s keys as he walked through the front door.

“Babe?” you called out. You listened for his footsteps as they rounded the corner into the kitchen. He was looking down as he came into your view, eyes locked on something on his phone screen. “Hey,” you addressed him uncertainly, wiping your forehead from the heat that had built up in the kitchen from the hour you had spent cooking. Your voice cause his head to snap up to look at you.

“Hey, babe,” he smiled, glancing back at his phone quickly before he turned it off and shoved it in his pocket. He walked around the kitchen island and pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head. “What’s all this?”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed, hoping for a little more than a side-hug and a kiss on the head from your boyfriend after not seeing him all day. You tried to brush the feeling off.

“I made dinner!” you replied, a hopeful tone to your voice. You pulled from his side to grab his plate, handing it to him.

“Oh thank goodness,” he took a whiff of the food before walking to the other side of the kitchen island, sitting down in one of the tall chairs. He mumbled a quick, “thanks so much, babe,” before he began devouring the food swiftly.

Again, you tried to brush off the weird feeling that washed over you. You knew he must be hungry after a long day of training—they had even gone a bit late today. You tried to focus on the short expression of gratitude instead as you picked up your own plate, choosing to stand across from him, leaning on the countertop so you could face him while you ate.

The two of you remained there in silence, him scarfing down the food like it was his last meal while you just moved the food around the plate as you stared at it, still feeling uneasy.

You opened your mouth to ask about how training had gone that day, hoping to spark a conversation between the two of you, but movement from the other side of the counter caught you off-guard before you could speak. Having cleaned his plate already, Christian stood from his chair, stepping around it before he pushed it in. He moved to the sink, dropping the empty plate in. He walked behind you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

“It was really good, babe. Thank you.” He walked behind you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I’m gonna head up to shower.” He stepped to walk out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

“Are you serious, Christian?” You felt the anger finally spilling over in your chest, the heat rising up your neck an into your face. You were beyond frustrated that all of the effort you had gone to had lasted in a five-minute shared silence before he rushed upstairs to shower and go to bed.

Christian turned back around to face you, eyes wide with confusion. You could see him obliviously wracking his brain for what he had done wrong.

“I’m sorry, I can wash my plate,” he spoke quickly as he took two steps back toward the sink before you stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“It’s not about the stupid plate, Christian.” You rolled your eyes at him, and he took a step back from you, surprised by the anger you were displaying. “I went to all this trouble to go get the ingredients and spent all this time to make a home-cooked meal, and all I get is five minutes and ‘it was good, thank you’?”

Christian’s eyes were still wide, taken aback by your reaction. “I’m sorry, it was a really long day. I’m just pretty tired.” The way he said the words made them seem like more of a question.

“You’re always ‘tired’, Christian!” You put air quotes around the word, feeling yourself get more and more worked up about the situation. You felt like now that you were finally voicing your frustrations, all of the emotions were starting to spill over. “You’ve barely spoken to me in weeks! We never see each other anymore, and I’m sick of living in the same house as my boyfriend, but never seeing him!” You began raising your voice without meaning to and you felt your eyes burning with tears. You mentally cursed yourself for crying so easily when you were angry.

“Y/N, I-“

Sensing another excuse coming on, you cut him off. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye this morning!”

Interrupting Christian and not allowing him to explain himself was a sure way to irritate him, and it immediately put him on the defensive.

“Well, you didn’t kiss me before I left either!” He knew it was a weak defense, but in his frustration, it was the only thing he could come up with. “I’m not the only one in this relationship, Y/N! You could afford to put in a little effort once in a while, instead of just pointing fingers.”

Your mouth fell open in shock at his words, and Christian instantly wished he could take them back, not having meant them at all. “You are unbelievable, Christian. Unbelievable.” You scowled, pushing past him to walk out of the kitchen.

He grabbed your wrist to keep you from walking away, and you shook your head, pulling your arm from his grasp. “No, stop. Come talk to me when you’re ready to act like a half-decent boyfriend.”

You stormed down the hallway to your shared bedroom, slamming the door to the bathroom closed and locking it in case Christian tried to follow you and take back what he had said. Moments later, you heard the doorknob jiggle softly, confirming your prediction.

You felt the tears rolling down your cheeks as you glumly went through your nighttime routine, brushing your teeth, combing out your hair, and washing your face. You tried to ignore your red and swollen eyes from crying as you looked in the mirror.

Once you had finished, you unlocked the door and walked into the bedroom. You did your best to ignore Christian sitting silently on the side of the bed as you walked over to the closet and changed quickly into your pajamas from the night before, scoffing quietly as you realized that it just entailed one of his bigger T-shirts. Nonetheless, you slipped it over your head and flipped the closet light off, closing the door behind you as you exited.

Without a word, you walked to your side of the bed, pulling the sheets and comforter back, crawling in, and covering yourself up, facing away from Christian.

His heart had broken at the sight of your tear-streaked face before you had climbed into the bed. He knew that it was probably best to give you some space for now, so he stood to collect his things and go take his shower. You didn’t miss the soft sigh that left his lips before he stood.

You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, then the rush of water as he turned the shower on.

You finally allowed yourself to let go, crying out all of the hurt that had built up over the last several weeks. You felt the pain physically in your heart, a hollow feeling in your chest—you were a part of a whole, missing your other half.

It didn’t take long for Christian to finish his shower, and you heard the water turn off. You tried to calm yourself before he left the bathroom, not wanting him to see you in such a weak state after your fight.

A few minutes later, you heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and Christian moving around the room. You did your best to silence your sniffles, but he still heard them, and he felt the painful cracks in his heart tearing open a little further.

You felt the mattress dip behind you as his weight settled into the bed. His arm appeared in front of your body for a moment and you felt him leaning over you to place a soft kiss on your temple.

“Goodnight,” he whispered softly. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you mumbled. As petty as you wanted to be, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t say it back to him.

His weight settled into the bed behind you, not daring to pull you into his arms. The light in the room disappeared with the click of the lamp turning off, and the two of you lay there in silence.

A thousand thoughts were running through both of your heads, but you remained on your side with your back turned to him. You wrapped your arms around your torso, attempting to hold yourself for some sort of comfort against the foreign feeling of falling asleep without being tucked into Christian’s side.

*****

Since it was the weekend, the sun was already peeking through the curtains when you awoke. By instinct, you rolled over, reaching toward the other side of the bed, but your hand only landed on the cold, empty sheets. You snapped your eyes open, finding no sign of Christian’s presence, and the memories of your argument from the night before flooded your mind.

You let out a long, frustrated groan, pressing your face further into the pillow. The uneasy feeling that you always had when you and Christian fought settled in your chest, and you spend a few moments staring at the wall, allowing yourself to give in to the self-pity for a moment before getting up to face the difficult situation.

A buzzing sound coming from your bedside table pulled you from your thoughts, and you rolled back over, lazily grabbing your phone from where it was charging. As the screen lit up, you saw that you had a text from Mason.

You dropped your head back on the pillow for a moment with a sigh. Fighting like this wasn’t doing either of you any good—you both knew it, but this was the main problem you two seemed to face. You didn’t fight often, but when you did, you both struggled to get over your own pride and make it up to each other.

You sent the message and threw the sheets off of your legs, deciding to make yourself a cup of coffee and try to wake up. The tiles of the kitchen floor were cold on your bare feet as you walked across them.

You placed your mug under the coffee maker and started it, leaning against the counter. The cold marble touched your back through the thin material of your—well, Christian’s—shirt and the feeling sent a shiver through your body. You tucked your arms around your stomach, trying to find some sense of warmth and comfort in the otherwise bitter morning.

As your thoughts wandered, you found yourself missing the mornings that you and Christian had previously shared in this very kitchen. Lately, you had barely interacted as you moved around each other, making your coffee and packing lunches, barely mumbling a few words to one another. But before all of that, when you had first moved in together, you couldn't get enough of each other in the mornings. You would always find yourself in his arms, standing between his legs as he leaned against the counter. His large hands would run up and down your sides, sometimes finding their way under his shirt that you wore to stroke the bare skin of your back gently. You would nuzzle your face into his neck, inhaling his scent while he pressed a kiss into your hair. The only audible noise was the coffee maker and the steady drip of coffee into the mug as the two of you waited for it to finish brewing. It was the perfect start to every day, and frequently you found yourself getting out of bed earlier than you needed to just so you would have more time to waste, wrapped in Christian’s arms. Even on your days off, when he would still have training, you would get up with him so you could share those brief moments together before he left for the day and you crawled back into bed.

You snapped back to reality, shaking your head to rid it of the daydream you had nearly gotten lost in. The lights seemed to be more dull now that you were left standing in the kitchen on your own, no lover to hold you close and share his warmth.

You rubbed your hands over your arms, attempting to rid them of the goosebumps that has risen up. Your phone lit up with another notification.

 Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment. It was then that you remembered—Chelsea had a game today. You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration with yourself—the game had completely slipped your mind.

Clearly, you weren’t completely innocent in the fact that you and Christian hadn’t been spending time together recently.

You grabbed the finished cup of coffee, pouring a bit of creamer in it before you hurried back up to your bedroom to get changed.

You turned the phone’s screen off, tossing it onto your bathroom counter before turning on your shower and stepping in. You tried to move as quickly as possible, hoping to make it to the stadium and set things right before the game began. You knew that Christian didn’t play as well when he was upset, and the last thing you wanted was to be the reason Chelsea’s golden American had a poor performance.

Plus, you selfishly just wanted to be rid of the empty feeling that came with any separation between you and Christian.

When you stepped out of the shower and onto the soft mat, having completely rinsed off, the room was stuffy and the steam had fogged up the mirror. When you checked your phone again, Mason had texted you several minutes before, right after you had jumped in the shower.

You finished getting ready in record time, running out of the front door with your hair still slightly damp, and you prayed that no one noticed how hastily your makeup had been done. You tapped your fingers nervously on the steering wheel as you drove toward Stamford Bridge, the minutes creeping closer and closer to the time for kickoff as you sat in the London traffic.

When you finally arrived, you rushed to the private entrance, sending Mason a short text as you walked to let him know that you had arrived. The face that greeted you was not Mason’s, but one of the security staff that you recognized from your many trips to the Bridge over the last couple of years. He greeted you with a warm smile, explaining that Mason had sent him to fetch you since they were already beginning to leave the changing room and line up for the tunnel walk when he had gotten your text.

The security guard led you through the winding halls of the stadium and up to the box where the family and friends of the team would sit together. You found your way into an empty seat next to Sophia, Kai’s girlfriend, and she greeted you with a warm welcome and a quick embrace.

When you turned your eyes to the pitch, your heart sank as you realized the players were already standing on the field, in position and awaiting the starting whistle. You realized you would have no chance to try to wave to Christian to get his attention before the game started. Unless Mason had told him, he likely didn’t have a clue you were even in the stadium.

You were, however, thankful to see that Christian had still made the starting lineup, despite his run-in with Potter earlier in the morning. But as the whistle sounded out and the boys began moving around the pitch, it quickly became clear that he wasn’t playing up to his usual standard. He seemed to be two steps behind on every play, making sloppy touches that would give possession to the defender. He was in his own head, and it was affecting every move he made on the field.

Sophia and you didn’t talk much through the first half. She knew how intensely you typically watched the matches, but she noticed how quiet you were compared to the lively and rambunctious cheering you usually brought on game day.

When the whistle blew to signal the end of the half, Chelsea was trailing, 1-0. With Christian on the front line unable to focus enough to make a proper play, the entire offense struggled to create opportunities, and the whole team seemed to be lagging.

You watched as Christian walked sullenly toward the tunnel, head hung low. You knew he was frustrated with himself for his performance so far in the game, and you resented the part you had to play in that.

Sophia, noticing the solemn way you looked at your boyfriend, knew that something was off. She draped her arm over the back of your seat, asking you about your somber mood as soon as your attention had shifted away from Christian since he had disappeared down the tunnel. You sighed and began recounting the former night’s event to her in a quiet voice, hoping none of the other family members in the box were listening in. You told her about how Christian had come home, barely eating the dinner you had prepared before trying to leave the kitchen. You told her about the foolish words you had both let fly out of frustration, stupid accusations that neither of you meant. You told her how you were afraid that you and Christian had lost your “spark,” that feeling of never wanting to let the other go that every couple felt when they first got together. You told her that you were afraid that you didn’t know how to get it back.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until a teardrop splashed on your hand. You used your fingers to wipe carefully under your eyes, trying not to smear the makeup you had hastily put on only a couple of hours before.

Sophia opened her mouth to address your concerns when something caught her eye over your shoulder. You turned to see that the boys were walking out of the tunnel, and you waited impatiently to try to catch a glimpse of Christian.

When he finally emerged, Mason’s arm was slung over his shoulders, holding him close as Mason seemed to be trying to give him words of encouragement. His head was still hung low. Mason squeezed his arm around Christian, turning him to face the stands once they were standing on the pitch, and pointed in your direction. A frown creased his eyebrows as his eyes followed where Mason’s finger was pointing.

When his eyes landed on you, his face softened immediately, the frown vanishing from his expression. His eyes grew big, his arms falling to his sides as he took you in, wearing the blue jersey that he knew bore his name across the shoulders. Mason ruffled his hair with a grin, walking away to let him have his moment, but Christian didn’t pay him any mind, only focused on you.

You raised your hand, giving Christian a shy wave. The faintest of smiles curled his lips, tainted with a hint of sadness. He brought his fingers to his lips, blowing you a short kiss before he moved further onto the pitch. He walked backward for a few steps, still looking at you before he turned and jogged to his starting position for the second half.

Sophia drew the arm that had been draped over the back of your chair back to her side, nudging you gently. She had a grin on her face when you looked over. “Yeah, that spark is still there. Don’t worry,” she reassured. You covered your face with your hand, trying to hide the blush that you knew was covering your cheeks. “You’ve just hit a rough patch. It happens to every couple, especially after you’ve been living together for a while.”

“Really?” you asked hopefully.

“Really,” she smiled. “It happened with Kai and I, too. A few months after he transferred to Chelsea and we moved to London, there was about a month where we barely ever saw each other. It took a screaming match and then us both crying on the floor of the kitchen with a bottle of wine for us to get past it.” The two of you laughed at the story, and you wiped another tear from your face. “But we were stronger after we got through it. And you and Christian will be too, I know it.”

She took your hand in hers and squeezed in an effort to comfort you. “Just remember to be intentional about spending time together. Life will get crazy from time to time, but if you keep pursuing each other, you’ll be okay.”

“Thank you, Sophia,” you smiled genuinely at her. “You really give the best advice.”

“Don’t mention it.” She pulled you into a side hug, over the arm of the stadium seats. As you pulled away from each other, the sound of the whistle rang through the air, and the second half was under way. You took in a big breath, letting it out slowly and praying silently that this 45’ would go better than the first had.

In a matter of minutes, it was clear that Christian was a completely different player than he had been in the first half. He was positioning himself well to make runs, taking much more controlled and calculated touches, and beating his opponents to the ball. Chelsea had made several great plays, pressing up the field and creating several breaks that resulted in near-goals. The whole stadium seemed to be holding its breath, hoping that it was only a matter of time before one of the presses ended with the ball in the net.

It finally happened in the 54th minute. With renewed fervor, the back line moved the ball around the defensive half before Thiago played the ball up the field toward the left wing. Christian broke through the opposing defense, carrying the ball up the line with players right on his heels. With quick feet, he came up to the side of the penalty box, crossing the ball toward the center.

A hush fell over the crowd as the ball floated through the air, toward a mess of players from both teams in the box. You and Sophia leaped to your feet, along with the rest of the audience, watching as the ball landed at Kai’s feet. With a quick touch to settle it, he shot the ball through the maze of defenders into the top corner of the goal. The keeper’s fingers just missed the ball, and the entire stadium erupted in a roar of cheering as the net shook with the ball’s impact.

Kai ran towards the sideline, embracing Christian in celebration, much the same way that you and Sophia clung to one another, jumping up and down as you yelled and cheered.

As the game resumed, Chelsea seemed to have hit their second wind, the game-tying goal driving them in their desire to get another. Several chances were created in the following minutes, the crowd letting out groans at the barely-missed shots that held the potential to propel Chelsea into the lead.

You were starting to get nervous as the game approached it’s last 10 minutes, not wanting the game to end in a draw after Chelsea’s incredible turn-around. You anxiously bit at the skin around your fingernails as you watched.

In the 86th minute, as fans from both sides were beginning to get restless, Reece played a quick ball through the line, Christian sprinting to catch up with it as he broke through the defense and drove quickly down the field. It was a one-on-one between him and the keeper now. He approached the penalty box swiftly as the keeper came out to meet him, trying to force a mistake. But Christian kept his head about him, taking a calculated touch to curve the ball around to the right of the keeper as he dropped to the ground in an attempt to block the shot.

The ball bounced off of the goalpost and across the line. Once again, the fans erupted in a chorus of applause and shouting. Christian sprinted back up the field, coming to stand at the sideline in front of where he knew you were sitting. The rest of the Chelsea boys ran up behind him, embracing him or ruffling his hair in congratulations. Ignoring all of the chaos around him as his teammates whooped and hollered, Christian locked eyes with you, tapping his hand over his heart.

You raised your fist to your lips, pinky pointed up as you kissed your hand. Christian mimicked your action. It was a silly thing the two of you did that had started back when you were still only friends and continued throughout your relationship. You would link your fingers together in a pinky promise, kissing your hands, as a reminder of the promise you made to always be there for each other.

The boys pulled Christian away from the sideline, still thumping him on the back as they yelled in celebration.

The last minutes of the game passed quickly, and Chelsea fans voiced their approval as the final whistle blew, signaling the game’s end in a 2-1 victory for the Blues. The players and staff for both teams made their way onto the pitch, shaking hands cordially, offering words of congratulations to one another, and embracing their own players. You and Sophia moved down toward the barrier that separated the seats from the field, waiting where the boys would usually come to greet their loved ones.

It didn’t take long for Kai to come running over, leaning up to bring Sophia into a sweet kiss. They smiled at each other, sharing quiet words as she congratulated him on his goal. You saw nothing but adoration in their eyes as they looked at one another, and the sight warmed your heart.

Kai looked over to you after a few moments. “Your lover boy will be over here any minute,” he laughed. “As soon as he can get all the guys to stop hounding him for his game-winning goal.” You giggled at his words, eyes still searching through the mass of people for him.

Christian finally emerged, pushing through the crowd in your direction. As soon as he set his eyes on you, he ran the last few yards, arms outstretched to pull you into an embrace. Not caring about the layer of sweat that covered his body, you leaned over the short barrier, wrapping your arms around his neck as your bodies finally met.

Unsatisfied with the space left between you, Christian carefully pulled you over the barrier separating the two of you. You squealed in surprise before he set you on the ground in front of him, still holding your body firmly, refusing to let go of you for fear that you could slip away.

His face was buried in your neck and you brushed your fingers over his damp skin to soothe him. His arms still kept a firm hold on your waist when he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were moist with tears when as he gazed down at you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I was being stupid, and I never should have—”

“Shhh,” you cut him off, cupping his jaw with your hand. You ran your thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes darted around your face, searching for any reassurance that the two of you were okay after the fight. “I know, Christian. It’s okay.” You saw the relief washing over Christian’s body as he pulled you into a gentle kiss, pressing his lips firmly to yours as he tried to communicate all of the things he was feeling.

“We can talk about everything when we get home, okay?” you asked softly, and he nodded, smiling down at you. “Right now, I just want to tell you how proud I am of you.”

The pink blush immediately painted his cheeks as he grinned sheepishly and hid his face in your shoulder. You giggled at his actions, knowing that he never took compliments well, yet you refused to stop telling him how highly you thought of him. You held the back of his head and felt him place a couple kisses to your shoulder before he stood up to look at your face again.

“I’m sorry I got you all sweaty,” he pulled the long-sleeved compression shirt over his hand, using it to wipe your neck off as you both laughed together.

“It’s fine,” you smiled at him. “You’ll just have to help me wash it off in the shower later.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised by your suggestive comment as a grin spread across his face.

The two of you waved to Kai and Sophia as Christian took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as you walked away from them.

He brought your intertwined hands up to his face, kissing the back of yours as you made your way toward the tunnel so you could leave the stadium.

[thisisyourprincipalspeaking]

i do wonder what the air is like up there on the high horses that the lonely are sat upon. it must be thin, as it seems to be making them forget things. especially their own behavior.

for our new and returning students, the lonely have been around for quite some time, and they will let you know. they will also tell you how much they know and how important their thoughts are because of it. but it wasn’t the current proprietors who built this reputation. no no. the current cannot match up to the original. nor can they match the level of authenticity their page once held. now, they claim they need to respond to those who they view as tearing down a fandom they believe themselves to be the queens of. they need to stand up to these troublemakers and provide facts . to debunk the lies. they have made their blog’s personality all about pointing fingers and placing blame on other bad actors, while refusing to acknowledge what they have become. they are a shell of their former selves. a joke. long gone are the days of thousands of interactions with their posts, or of being seen as a pillar in their fandom, or even of being a source of actual information. they were once even a frequent target of those who they now call friends and openly post with. poor them. victims always.

in days past, they posted horribly offensive commentary on past girlfriends of the actor who they claim to be fans. namely, of her looks. ask them, and they never did that. now, they are friends with the mods who were creating edits of the actor’s now wife portraying her as a literal child. but that is just fine by them. they are all on the same side now. it’s in the name of cleaning up the fandom. however, you won’t find evidence on their blog of their vile behavior and former comments; no, that's because they deleted it all in order to hide the evidence. they’ll claim it never existed.

it does. i’m sure their new friends have the proof, too.

these two groups who have now merged, they do not only create burners, send anons, and send hate to others, but they send it to themselves too. please sympathize with these blog mods who are victims of this online meanness. if you don’t feel for the victim, for them, you are a monster and that’s your burden. you are also delulu and just want this actor to pick you. they had thousands of interactions in months and years past but now get less than a handful of likes. all of these current likes and notes come from the former enemies but now friends blogs. they post nothing about the actor they claim to be here for. they post no news, nothing about his projects other than the widely reported pap photos. they have sources but know nothing about upcoming projects. claiming you have a photo does not insider-info make. they just want to tear down the other side.

they claim to have sources such as pics of the couple’s house. other sources that want to talk about his private life. but they will not tell you or show you. their new friends have the floorplans of a house that is where the actor is from, so they do too. a new friend travels to the area and it is definitely not there for the actor, but to question it means you'll be made fun of relentlessly. that magazine article is definitely going to happen. this fall. maybe next spring. there is no way they would get false info. they are too experienced. they know all and are the voice of the fandom. don’t you dare question them.

do you want to know where your following went, lonely? you pushed them away. you insulted them. you are arrogant, rude and lost all credibility to have those nuanced conversations you so desire. you made your personality to be about prioritizing getting a rise out of the other team. you, and I mean both of you, have become a laughing stock, blocked by so many.

you have me blocked, but everyone knows blocks don’t mean anything when screenshots fly around within minutes. feel free to call me names. to send your burner accounts after me. you have become a joke. looking forward to your next post and its three likes from yourself and your “friends”. or your reasoning for now being friends with those who spoke so horribly of you.

how disappointed queen and mrs potts must be with you and what you have made their account become.

[thesakuragarnet]

Unexpected Proportions

Summary: A few seconds pass before he finally brings his arm down…and comes face to face with Hawks’ pecs in his HPSC compression shirt. Dabi blinks. He’s looking straight forward. Normally, he has to crane his neck downward to look at them. Something’s wrong. Dabi lifts his eyes, looking up…and up…and up . Hawks is seven feet tall. Hawks has never been seven feet tall. 

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! TAGS BENEATH THE KEEP READING SECTION

Word Count: 3,658

AO3 link

Tags: DabiHawks, swearing, making out, 3xplicit s3xual content, Quirk Accident, Hawks is taller than Dabi, size k!nk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The text doesn’t reach Dabi’s phone until he’s already almost to one of Hawks’ apartments. Leave it to All For One to put the worst phone plan available on the burner phones. Dabi didn’t get any service until he was halfway up the fire escape; it buzzes in the pocket of his jacket. 

Birdie: Need to reschedule ASAP. Sorry.

Dabi rolls his eyes at the message, continuing to make his way up the stairs at the back of the complex. This was one of the seedier HPSC safe houses for their pet, which was why Dabi typically picked this one to meet up in. Less prying eyes. Less attention. Less chance of being ambushed. There were more PLF members on this side of the city. Not that Dabi would ever need backup. 

“That’s not how this works,” Dabi mutters under his breath in annoyance. “I’m coming whether you like it or not.” 

Besides, he hadn’t even given him a reason. It was suspicious. And suspicion was dangerous. Dabi was paranoid enough as it is. Paranoid of being found out. Paranoid of Hawks being a backstabbing bastard. He was in too deep now. He can’t risk everything he’s worked for crumbling to pieces. Not when he’s so close. So close to meaning something. So close to revealing the truth to the whole world. 

Dabi blinks as he grabs the railing, pulling himself up to the final landing outside Hawks’ apartment. He can’t get distracted. He can’t let his mask slip. Not now. Not ever. Not until the timing is right-

CRASH!

Dabi nearly jumps over the rail as shattering glass and muffled shouts of pain rumble from the other side of the window, followed swiftly by clamorous thumps and panicked noises. 

‘Oh, fuck, is he getting ambushed?!’ Dabi’s mind reels. If any of those PLF idiots had gone rogue and decided to attack the number two hero… his Pro to corrupt…oh, they’re not going to even live long enough to regret it. 

Azure flames flash in Dabi’s eyes, barely held back as he uses what little muscle he’s built up on his arms to force the window open. He clambers through, landing unceremoniously on his feet in Hawks’ kitchen. 

The lights are off. 

“OW, FUCK!” Hawks’ voice cuts out in the darkness. “Damnit, Dabi, I told you I needed to reschedule!”

He sounds irritated, which is unusual. Hawks is always calm, cool, and collected. He does what he’s told like a good little soldier. He doesn’t snap. He doesn’t have an attitude, at least not a particularly nasty or spiteful one. But he doesn’t sound like he’s being attacked, which is a relief. One less mess for Dabi to clean up. 

“What’s your problem?” Dabi retorts into the shadows, squinting through his subpar vision as his eyes attempt to adjust. He braces himself as the awkward stumbling noises grow closer until-

“ FUCK, my eyes!” Dabi hisses, shielding himself from the sudden illumination as Hawks flicks the kitchen lights on. A few seconds pass before he finally brings his arm down…and comes face to face with Hawks’ pecs in his HPSC compression shirt.

Dabi blinks.

He’s looking straight forward. 

Normally, he has to crane his neck downward to look at them. 

Something’s wrong. 

Dabi lifts his eyes, looking up…and up…and up . 

Hawks is seven feet tall. Hawks has never been seven feet tall. 

The guy was five-seven at best . Now, he’s standing over a foot taller than Dabi. 

The second detail the villain notices is the broad expanse of his wings. That must’ve been the cause of the crashes from moments ago; he kept banging them into things and hitting his head on the doorways. 

Hawks takes note of Dabi’s stare…of the subtle change in his posture…of the flicker of something in his eyes…of the way he’s looking up at him. Dabi feels vulnerable. It’s painfully evident to Hawks, which is a bit shocking considering Dabi’s usually so hard for him to read. 

“What the fuck?” Dabi breathes out in possibly the smallest voice ever. 

“Yeah, I know, right? I got hit with a stupid Gigantification Quirk. Was able to stop it before it got too out of hand. Doc says it should wear off in time for my patrol tomorrow afternoon-”

Hawks says more, but Dabi isn’t really paying attention. He’s too transfixed by the hulking hero over him, wings hanging behind him like two barn doors. 

“Okay…,” Dabi’s voice trails off. He hasn’t moved from his place beside the window, boots planted firmly on the floor as if he’s rooted to it. 

Hawks stops talking, cocking his head slightly as he finally realizes why Dabi’s acting a bit strange. The corners of his mouth quirk up into a crooked smirk. 

THUNK!

The noise that leaves Dabi’s mouth sounds alien coming from him, the high-pitched yelp even catching Hawks off guard. Sure, Hawks was expecting Dabi to be a bit flustered or annoyed when he struck the kabedon pose, but he didn’t expect him to squeal and look like he was going to melt into the floor. It was very un-Dabi-like behavior. Then again, Hawks had a very un-Hawks-like advantage at present. Dabi was always the one towering over him, or, at least, looming with his decent height advantage.

Hawks is quite literally towering over Dabi. 

Dabi holds his tongue, breath hissing through his teeth as he grinds them so hard he wonders if they’ll shatter. He can’t fucking believe he just made that noise because of Hawks . Sure, Dabi’s let him have his dominant moments before, but not like this. Never like this. 

Dabi feels overwhelmingly vulnerable…and he’s so turned on by it. His knees are shaky, his heart is stuttering in his chest, and he feels so light-headed he wonders if he’ll just keel over and faint. It’s sickening. He’s acting like some sort of sloppy romance main character, over-the-top and over-the-moon for the love interest. Objectively, he doesn’t fit that role at all. 

“You’re really into this…aren’t you?” Hawks clicks his tongue with a shit-eating grin, eyes scanning up and down Dabi’s body for dramatic effect, clearly playing into the fantasy. 

Of course Dabi’s into it. He’d be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn’t. He hates it. He hates that his heart is noticeably pounding harder in his chest and that his palms are clammy and his mouth is dry. He hates that he can’t even find the words when he’s just trying not to pass out under the overwhelming presence of Hawks practically swallowing him up. Dabi feels impossibly small…he fucking hates it. But if he hates it…why isn’t he responding with fire like he usually does with everything he hates? 

“Remember to breathe,” Hawks trills cheekily, making the pale flesh on Dabi’s cheeks turn several shades redder. 

“Shut up,” Dabi manages to spit out, vitriolic but shaky. 

“Uh-uh, be nice,” Hawks hums, voice husky and dropping low in a hush as he brings his hand that’s not occupying the wall up to brush against the side of Dabi’s face. The villain shudders with every inch of his body even though his brain is screaming at him to stay fucking still. There’s nothing he can do when his emotions go into overdrive like this; the mask isn’t good enough. The feelings, the arousal, the thrill…it’s too potent. 

“Fuck you,” Dabi mutters, voice cracking. Hawks exhales through his nose: a poorly concealed laugh of amusement. 

“Nah, I think you want me to fuck you instead.” 

This time, Dabi bites his tongue hard . His inner voice screams at him to ignore what he just said and remember why he called this meeting in the first place. It was for…fuck, he’s forgotten. How could he remember anything under the canopy of red and nothing but those golden eyes glowing down at him like a predator stalking prey?

“You’re never this quiet, Dabi,” Hawks’ grin grows steadily wider, a mix between wolfish and ecstatic. He’s enjoying this way too much, and he notices Dabi holding back a gasp when his name rolls off his tongue. 

Dabi doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? Hawks is right. He’s so down bad right now that it’s borderline criminal. It’s embarrassing. It’s…intriguing. 

‘Does the effect also change his strength proportionally?’ Dabi’s thoughts are consumed by the situation at this point. He opens his mouth unfiltered and unprompted:

“Could you like…throw me across the room with just one arm?”

“What?” 

“What?”

‘Now would be a great time to burst into flames,’ Dabi thinks to himself, certain that smoke is curling out of his ears. 

“Are you asking me to pick you up and throw you?” Hawks chuckles, clearly open to the idea. 

“No.” Dabi’s response is curt and blatantly a lie. 

“Are you sure?”

Dabi can’t admit it. It’s like there’s an impossible barrier in his own brain preventing him from directly asking for any of this. Dabi’s conditioned himself to take and take and take because if he doesn’t… Dabi has nothing to give anyone. Touya had given everything he’d had to everyone he knew and no one had wanted any of it. No one wanted him to talk. No one wanted to see anything from him. That’s at least how he saw it-

“Dabi? You still with me?” Hawks coos, at least acting like he’s oblivious to the sudden inner spiral Dabi found himself caught in. Dabi swallows, blinking back to reality, readjusting the metaphorical mask. 

“Yeah.” It’s an answer. A breathless answer that’s full of tension, but an answer nonetheless. 

“I’ll do it, y’know. I won’t do it too hard. Don’t wanna hurt you,” Hawks smirks, and Dabi’s certain he missed a part of the conversation. 

“What?!” He blurts, eyes widening to the size of saucers. 

Now, Hawks is blushing. 

“Oh-uh-I meant throwing you. Uh-I mean…if you want to do anything else-”

“I think throwing me on the bed is a good start,” Dabi’s lips move before he can stop them, and he silently curses himself for sounding so easy. 

Any other scenario, and this would be overwhelmingly humiliating. 

“Do you want me to carry you to the bedroom?” Hawks raises his eyebrow. 

“I can walk,” Dabi replies flatly, though he’s partially worried that the moment he takes a step he’ll crumple to the floor. His cock throbs borderline painfully in his jeans, noticeably tight to his chagrin, and Hawks has definitely noticed. 

…

The moment Dabi’s leather boots cross the threshold to Hawks’ bedroom, he’s enveloped in a swath of crimson. Wings wrap around him like nets, feathers manipulating his body to spin around to face Hawks and push him against his chest. 

“How about instead of one arm we do two?” Hawks winks, and Dabi bites back a groan as a pair of strong arms grab him by his waist. 

Suddenly, he’s off the ground. 

Hawks lifts him up like he weighs absolutely nothing, and Dabi’s breathing picks up as his heart threatens to burst out of his chest and fall into a bloody mess on the floor. Hawks slowly struts a few paces closer to the bed as he brings Dabi up to his eye level; the eye contact is dangerous, turquoise and gold meeting each other with amorous intensity. 

The sound Dabi makes when he hits the bed is somewhere between a dramatic gasp and a surprised grunt. Hawks had thrown him halfway across the room with a ridiculous lack of effort, like Dabi was simply a rag doll for him to play with…oh, this is gonna be fun. 

Hawks stalks toward him in the dimmed lights of the bedroom, slowly shrugging out of his jacket before undoing the clasp at the back of his neck to take off the compression shirt. Dabi watches, completely entranced. Even his muscles look bigger. The bulge of his biceps and the shadows of his abs are more pronounced. More for Dabi to lick. If those are bigger…Dabi’s getting hornier by the second; it’s almost laughable. 

Dabi scrambles to shrug off his jacket, fumbling with the zipper before he finally gets it off and tosses it to the side, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and white T-shirt. 

WHOMP!

Suddenly, Hawks is on top of him. Naked. A single glance confirms that Dabi was right in his suspicions. 

God, there’s so much more of Hawks than Dabi’s used to. His wings are like two gigantic comforters, practically acting as a canopy for the bed, encasing the two in a sea of draping crimson. The outermost feathers brush up against Dabi’s exposed arms, soft and downy against his scarred skin. The feeling of Hawks’ feathers against him was always so intoxicatingly soothing. 

“Let’s get you more comfortable, yeah?” Hawks hums suavely, fingertips playing with the hem of Dabi’s shirt and gently tracing the edge of his belt. 

Dabi nods vigorously, cheeks flushing and cock throbbing. 

Hawks peels off Dabi’s clothes with unabashed tenderness, hands moving expertly over his skin. 

The hero’s lips curl into a devilish smile when he sees the beads of precum already leaking through Dabi’s gray boxers. 

“Oh, you are so far gone, firefly,” Hawks whispers, tone sweeter than honey. “Want me to be inside you so bad, dontcha?” 

A soft moan bubbles in the back of Dabi’s throat, held back by the villain’s gritted teeth. He knows his facial expression probably belongs in a bad porno, but he’s so entranced by everything that he can’t help it. 

Two feathers curl into grips on the fabric at his hips, slowly dragging them down his body until Dabi’s completely naked. 

It’s not Dabi’s first time bottoming for him, but this is different. Dabi never thought Hawks was able to completely pull off the dominant persona...but he’s proving him wrong in so many ways right now. The villain’s never been in such a submissive headspace before, willing to surrender everything to his lover on a whim.

“You ready for me?” Hawks trills before pressing a deep kiss to Dabi’s lips. Dabi hums into the kiss, Hawks’ impossibly soft lips brushing all the right places as Dabi hears the familiar slick of lube rubbing over Hawks’ cock.  

The moment Hawks starts to slip inside, Dabi can feel the pressure…and then he sees the bulge in his lower stomach. The more Hawks pushes in, the fuller Dabi feels…and the more prominent the bulge in his stomach grows. 

“ Fuck ,” Dabi whimpers, choking on his words as his back arches and his head falls back into the pillow. Dabi usually wasn’t a big fan of missionary when he was bottoming; he preferred to have his face shoved in the pillow and just let Hawks use him. But this ? This is overwhelmingly sexy. 

Finally, he feels Hawks’ balls resting against his ass. 

“Oh, fuck ~” Dabi’s voice sounds utterly broken and blissed out, overwhelmed from the stretch as moans pour from his throat, wanton and heavy on his tongue. The floaty headspace is new, completely surrendering himself to everything Hawks has to offer and more. He’d give him so much more. He’d give him anything at this point. Anything to be consumed by his presence and not have to worry about anything else ever again. It’s unusual for Dabi to want to give up all control, but he feels higher than he’s ever been in his life off this feeling. 

“God , you’re tight. Are you okay?” Hawks grunts, taking note of the hazy expression in his lover’s eyes. 

“Uh-huh,” Dabi hiccups, drool pooling on his tongue and threatening to leak out of the sides of his mouth. Every exhale is a subtle moan, whimpering and shivering in pleasure. 

“Color?” Hawks whispers, seeming to worry about the size difference. 

“Green.” Dabi doesn’t miss a beat despite the brain fog. “AlreadysaidI’mmokay,” His words slur together in an impatient huff. 

“Can I start moving?” 

“If you don’t I’m gonna kill you,” Dabi grumbles, but the hero doesn’t need any further encouragement. 

The first rock of Hawks’ hips moves Dabi’s entire body, punching a pleasure-filled wail from his lungs that’s quickly followed by another…and another…and another. 

“ Hawks~ah~~ ” Dabi groans, swallowing the drool that pools on his tongue with every breathy exhale. 

“That’s it, baby,” Hawks pants, eyelids fluttering, staring at the bulge of his cock in Dabi’s stomach with each roll of his hips. 

“ Fuck me ~!” Dabi slurs, “H-harder.” He doesn’t have time to cringe at the words, but Hawks eagerly complies with his request, rutting his hips at a pace that makes Dabi see stars. 

“You feel so good ,” Hawks gasps, senses on fire as he becomes completely absorbed in the feeling of Dabi’s inside wrapping around him…of Dabi’s hands searching for purchase in his golden locks…of the feeling of his ankles locking around his waist. 

“Kiss,” Dabi chokes out repeatedly, brain numb and insides ablaze; it takes a moment for Hawks to realize what he’s saying. 

The hero bends down, connecting their lips sweetly and passionately, lips spit-slicked and swollen as they suck, tongues desperately intertwining. Dabi’s sigh of relief muffles in his throat, closing his eyes as he kisses back, pleading and greedy. Dabi always felt like he got drunk off of kissing Hawks; it was such an overwhelmingly intoxicating experience. Hawks was a wonderful kisser, sure, but something felt deeper whenever they kissed. It was like they were always meant to kiss and only meant to kiss each other, their lips always moving in a way that was too good to be true. It was too good.

Dabi pulls back from the lip locks with a cry, feeling heat pool in the pit of his stomach as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. 

“Close,” Dabi huffs over and over again, voice pitching higher and higher. 

“You can come, baby,” Hawks croons between sighs of pleasure, “Be a good boy and come for me.”

Dabi’s eyes practically roll into the back of his head at the praise, jaw slack and brows arched as he feels the ecstasy boiling in his blood. Hawks is barely holding it together at the display in his arms; the noises pouring from Dabi’s lips are wrecking his mind, and the expressions on his lover’s face are sending him into the stratosphere. He knows if he doesn’t keep concentrating, he’s going to come early. Hell, Dabi’s already going to come early. He usually lasts much longer than this. 

Hawks can sense the shivers in Dabi’s skin, goosebumps prickling the pale, unscarred flesh. Blood seeps out beneath the scars under his eyes, trickling thin scarlet rivulets down the sides of his face. The villain’s cock bounces up against the bump of Hawks’ cock inside him, soaked in precum and reddening into a painful purple. Hawks leans forward as he keeps fluidly pumping his hips, touching their foreheads together, letting themselves feel the heat of one another’s breath. 

Hawks’ name drips from Dabi’s lips like the purest nectar as he suddenly convulses, gushing white that spurts up on his stomach. Dabi nearly screams at the overstimulation as Hawks fucks him through his orgasm, gentle and intentional, moving just the way his lover likes. The hero’s muscles tense up, wings flaring suddenly as he comes with a rasping gasp, coating Dabi’s insides. 

Slowly, Hawks brings his movements to a halt, breathing heavily as he grips Dabi’s shoulders, the pads of his fingers pressing into the scarred and healthy flesh. 

Dabi can barely see through his “tears”, vision blurred and maroon. He desperately blinks them away, reaching up with a shaking hand to rub his eyes. 

Hawks promptly hushes him, feathers leaving his wings and then returning with a warm, damp rag that begins to blot Dabi’s face, cleaning the blood. 

“Felt…so… good ,” Dabi manages to blurt out between deep breaths as he tries to regain his bearings. 

“You’re incredible, Dabi,” Hawks coos, pressing his lips against the villain’s sweaty forehead. “I’m gonna pull out, yeah?”

Dabi nods, gritting his teeth as he feels the pressure slipping away, leaving him feeling hauntingly empty. Hawks immediately swoops in, wrapping his wings around his lover, whispering sweet nothings as he kisses him back down from the high. Dabi whimpers, focusing on the feeling of Hawks tracing his skin, running his fingers through his hair, kissing down the side of his face to his neck. Another feather whirls away, whisking in a rag to wipe away the spent on Dabi’s midsection as he shudders in Hawks’ arms. 

After what seems like eons, Dabi sighs cathartically, letting the waves of bliss fade away. 

“I’m good now, birdie,” He admits, looking up at the gorgeous golden eyes staring down at him. The temporary size difference is still so enchanting; Dabi feels like he’s being totally encompassed by Hawks’ presence. The hero rolls over to the side, an arm still wrapped around his lover. 

“We were gonna get dinner tonight, weren’t we?” Hawks chuckles. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Dabi says breathlessly. 

“You still hungry?” Hawks offer with a soft smile. 

“I could eat,” Dabi shrugs, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“You okay with yakitori?” Hawks raises an eyebrow as he grabs his phone from the nightstand. 

“Just wake me up when the food’s here,” Dabi yawns, grappling with the comforter and climbing under the covers, wincing slightly at every movement. His muscles are sore, but his heart is full, and it won’t be long before his stomach is too. 

All in all, a good night. He got dicked down. He’s getting to sleep in a comfortable bed that won’t pull at his staples. He’s getting a full meal for free. He gets to sleep next to someone who loves him. 

At least for now, Touya is completely content. His eyelids flutter closed; the last thing he sees before falling asleep is Hawks’ warm smile.

[ralfmaximus]

Remember that 737 MAX whose door plug blew out in flight?

A boeing whistleblower created a burner account and reported the following (reproduced here in its entirety in case the original gets deleted):

Current Boeing employee here – I will save you waiting two years for the NTSB report to come out and give it to you for free: the reason the door blew off is stated in black and white in Boeings own records. It is also very, very stupid and speaks volumes about the quality culture at certain portions of the business.

A couple of things to cover before we begin:

Q1) Why should we believe you? A) You shouldn’t, I’m some random throwaway account, do your own due diligence. Others who work at Boeing can verify what I say is true, but all I ask is you consider the following based on its own merits.

Q2) Why are you doing this? A) Because there are many cultures at Boeing, and while the executive culture may be throughly compromised since we were bought by McD, there are many other people who still push for a quality product with cutting edge design. My hope is that this is the wake up call that finally forces the Board to take decisive action, and remove the executives that are resisting the necessary cultural changes to return to a company that values safety and quality above schedule.

With that out of the way… why did the left hand (LH) mid-exit door plug blow off of the 737-9 registered as N704AL? Simple- as has been covered in a number of articles and videos across aviation channels, there are 4 bolts that prevent the mid-exit door plug from sliding up off of the door stop fittings that take the actual pressurization loads in flight, and these 4 bolts were not installed when Boeing delivered the airplane, our own records reflect this.

The mid-exit doors on a 737-9 of both the regular and plug variety come from Spirit already installed in what is supposed to be the final configuration and in the Renton factory, there is a job for the doors team to verify this “final” install and rigging meets drawing requirements. In a healthy production system, this would be a “belt and suspenders” sort of check, but the 737 production system is quite far from healthy, its a rambling, shambling, disaster waiting to happen. As a result, this check job that should find minimal defects has in the past 365 calendar days recorded 392 nonconforming findings on 737 mid fuselage door installations (so both actual doors for the high density configs, and plugs like the one that blew out). That is a hideously high and very alarming number, and if our quality system on 737 was healthy, it would have stopped the line and driven the issue back to supplier after the first few instances. Obviously, this did not happen. Now, on the incident aircraft this check job was completed on 31 August 2023, and did turn up discrepancies, but on the RH side door, not the LH that actually failed. I could blame the team for missing certain details, but given the enormous volume of defects they were already finding and fixing, it was inevitable something would slip through- and on the incident aircraft something did. I know what you are thinking at this point, but grab some popcorn because there is a plot twist coming up.

The next day on 1 September 2023 a different team (remember 737s flow through the factory quite quickly, 24 hours completely changes who is working on the plane) wrote up a finding for damaged and improperly installed rivets on the LH mid-exit door of the incident aircraft.

A brief aside to explain two of the record systems Boeing uses in production. The first is a program called CMES which stands for something boring and unimportant but what is important is that CMES is the sole authoritative repository for airplane build records (except on 787 which uses a different program). If a build record in CMES says something was built, inspected, and stamped in accordance with the drawing, then the airplane damn well better be per drawing. The second is a program called SAT, which also stands for something boring and unimportant but what is important is that SAT is *not* an authoritative records system, its a bullentin board where various things affecting the airplane build get posted about and updated with resolutions. You can think of it sort of like a idiots version of Slack or something. Wise readers will already be shuddering and wondering how many consultants were involved, because, yes SAT is a *management visibilty tool*. Like any good management visibilty tool, SAT can generate metrics, lots of metrics, and oh God do Boeing managers love their metrics. As a result, SAT postings are the primary topic of discussion at most daily status meetings, and the whole system is perceived as being extremely important despite, I reiterate, it holding no actual authority at all.

We now return to our incident aircraft, which was written up for having defective rivets on the LH mid-exit door. Now as is standard practice kn Renton (but not to my knowledge in Everett on wide bodies) this write-up happened in two forms, one in CMES, which is the correct venue, and once in SAT to “coordinate the response” but really as a behind-covering measure so the manager of the team that wrote it can show his boss he’s shoved the problem onto someone else. Because there are so many problems with the Spirit build in the 737, Spirit has teams on site in Renton performing warranty work for all of their shoddy quality, and this SAT promptly gets shunted into their queue as a warranty item. Lots of bickering ensues in the SAT messages, and it takes a bit for Spirit to get to the work package. Once they have finished, they send it back to a Boeing QA for final acceptance, but then Malicious Stupid Happens! The Boeing QA writes another record in CMES (again, the correct venue) stating (with pictures) that Spirit has not actually reworked the discrepant rivets, they *just painted over the defects*. In Boeing production speak, this is a “process failure”. For an A&P mechanic at an airline, this would be called “federal crime”.

Presented with evidence of their malfeasance, Spirit reopens the package and admits that not only did they not rework the rivets properly, there is a damaged pressure seal they need to replace (who damaged it, and when it was damaged is not clear to me). The big deal with this seal, at least according to frantic SAT postings, is the part is not on hand, and will need to be ordered, which is going to impact schedule, and (reading between the lines here) Management is Not Happy. 1/2

2/2

However, more critical for purposes of the accident investigation, the pressure seal is unsurprisingly sandwiched between the plug and the fuselage, and you cannot replace it without opening the door plug to gain access. All of this conversation is documented in increasingly aggressive posts in the SAT, but finally we get to the damning entry which reads something along the lines of “coordinating with the doors team to determine if the door will have to be removed entirely, or just opened. If it is removed then a Removal will have to be written.” Note: a Removal is a type of record in CMES that requires formal sign off from QA that the airplane been restored to drawing requirements.

If you have been paying attention to this situation closely, you may be able to spot the critical error: regardless of whether the door is simply opened or removed entirely, the 4 retaining bolts that keep it from sliding off of the door stops have to be pulled out. A removal should be written in either case for QA to verify install, but as it turns out, someone (exactly who will be a fun question for investigators) decides that the door only needs to be opened, and no formal Removal is generated in CMES (the reason for which is unclear, and a major process failure). Therefore, in the official build records of the airplane, a pressure seal that cannot be accessed without opening the door (and thereby removing retaining bolts) is documented as being replaced, but the door is never officially opened and thus no QA inspection is required. This entire sequence is documented in the SAT, and the nonconformance records in CMES address the damaged rivets and pressure seal, but at no point is the verification job reopened, or is any record of removed retention bolts created, despite it this being a physical impossibility. Finally with Spirit completing their work to Boeing QAs satisfaction, the two rivet-related records in CMES are stamped complete, and the SAT closed on 19 September 2023. No record or comment regarding the retention bolts is made.

I told you it was stupid.

So, where are the bolts? Probably sitting forgotten and unlabeled (because there is no formal record number to label them with) on a work-in-progress bench, unless someone already tossed them in the scrap bin to tidy up.

There’s lots more to be said about the culture that enabled this to happened, but thats the basic details of what happened, the NTSB report will say it in more elegant terms in a few years.

[gingerjolover]

You're not Bob the Builder - naomi mcpherson (MUNA) x reader (soft!gf coded)

this comes as a lil side story from mornings :)

synopsis: nomi and joey build soft!gf a vanity and chaos ensues before an early muna!christmas dinner

g's notes: i want so celebrate muna christmas w nomi baby and my bff kelli siiiiiiigh

Warnings: RPF, christmas!, noami and jo being chaotic, no fundamental physical descriptors, reader is soft!gf coded so she/her pronouns/afab?

Your brow is sweating, weight rested on one foot as you stand at the stove, whisking gravy in a medium-sized pot.

"Where do you want this babe?" Kelli asks, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a charcuterie board, an assortment of cheeses and meats, both vegan and not, decorated with fruits and dips paired with edible flowers, an impressive spread made by Kelli herself.

"The fridge I gues-" you start to say cut off by a yell coming from your bedroom.

"Put the hammer down!" "Naomi I swear to god..."

Kelli rolls her eyes, albeit lovingly as she opens the fridge.

"Do I even want to know?" you snort, returning to the stove. Kelli giggles, coming and sitting on the island a few feet away from you, feet swinging to kick your legs softly.

"They're putting together your vanity, I think," Kelli shrugs, popping a grape from a bowl on the counter into her mouth.

"I thought it was pre-built... the box was huge," you shrug gently.

"Nope, I think Jo was going to help set it up in the room and attach the mirror, but it came disassembled," Kelli winces.

"Should've asked Julien," you mumble, getting a belly chuckle out of Kelli, you both know Julien is far better with furniture and building things then either of your partners.

"Who knows, maybe they'll get it done faster because there's two of them?" she shrugs, popping another grape into her mouth and hopping down, getting ready to cut a baguette.

"Yeah, or I'll end up with no vanity and holes in my ceiling or walls," you grumble.

"Oh, don't be like that-" her words were cut off by two deep squeals and the sound of the electric drill, something flinging against the wall with a thump; Kelli's eyes widened.

Kelli moves quick but you move quicker, you shut off the stove and move the pot to an unused burner.

You both climb the stairs, moving to stand in the doorway, Naomi standing shirtless with their back facing you, and hands intertwined on the top of their head. Jo lays on the floor, staring at the ceiling, both letting out small huffs.

"What the hell was that?" you ask, looking down at the floor; you and Kelli's eyes are comically wide as you stare at the scattered vanity pieces all over your bedroom floor.

"Hi, babydoll," Naomi says casually, walking over to you, brushing your hair back, and placing small kisses on the crown of your hairline. Naomi's hair is tucked into a baseball cap, small curls peeking out the sides, sweat running down the middle of their torso, and the windows cracked open, letting a welcomed breeze into the room.

Jo groans from her place on the floor, tank top riding up slightly, visible sweat on their forehead.

"Why are you sweaty?" Kelli asks, eyebrows scrunched.

"Because Naomi ordered a fucking whack ass piece of furniture and-"

"I didn't, Jo! It's not my fault it didn't come with instructions--" Noami refutes, both of them starting to bicker again, Noami rubbing their hands over their face.

"Wait, it didn't come with instructions?" you ask, jaw dropped slightly as you stare at the half built base of the vanity.

"Maybe we should call JB," Kelli mumbles; Jo and Naomi whip their heads towards her.

"Bite your tongue!" "Take that back!"

Kelli puts her hands up, eyes widening as she fights a smile, "Okay, okay, sorry... didn't mean to touch a nerve..." she says, her tone filling with humor.

"We can do this, we- we can do this, Naomi, we don't need Julien... we can build this thing ourselves," Jo says, standing up and gesturing between themselves and Naomi. Jo's tone is almost as if she's trying to convince herself and Noami simultaneously.

"Yeah, fuck yeah... we can..." Naomi starts, turning to look back at you with a lopsided smile. "I can build... a vanity, baby, I can," Naomi says, trying to convince you.

"Right, yeah, I totally believe in you..." you say, tight smile as you look at the dent in your wall, eyes widening again.

Jo looks at you sheepishly, hands coming out in front of them, "I'll fix it," they say quickly as Naomi speaks over top of her, "It was an accident!"

All you can do is shake your head, rubbing the skin between your eyebrows and the bridge of your nose as you look at the bedside table across the room where the alarm clock sits. "People will be here in 6 hours..." you say, biting your lip nervously.

"Jo, we still need to go home and get ready..." Kelli warns softly.

"It's fine...we got this," Jo says cockily, eyes filled with terror as they look towards Naomi, both sharing a look.

"Okay, well... we'll leave you two to it," Kelli says suspiciously, pulling her phone out as you both back out of the room, returning downstairs.

"Please text JB," you murmur once you're out of earshot.

"Already did," Kelli huffs.

BONUS:

"Yo!" Julien says as she walks into the house, Lucy and Phoebe behind her, their partners carrying dishes or flowers into the house. Julien's girlfriend kisses your cheek softly, kissing Kelli and Katie's cheeks before heading into your kitchen; everyone starts chatting as more of your friends arrive.

"So where's the vanity?" Julien asks, adjusting the collar of her dress shirt.

"Upstairs... I don't really know what you're about to walk into... It wasn't finished or stable when Jo and Kelli left to get ready, and I haven't been upstairs since I got ready so..." you smile sheepishly.

Julien winks and pinches your cheek gently before bounding up the stairs.

"Babe? You told Julien?" Naomi yells down, offended. "Kelli, really?" Jo yells immediately after.

"Just let her check your work!" Kelli yells up, making the room laugh at the antics of your partners.

"I'm sure they did a great job," Julien's girlfriend says sweetly, arm around your waist as she leans her head onto your shoulder.

"Tell that to the hammer sized dent in my bedroom wall..." you huff, her hands adjusting the bow in your hair.

"The what?!"

fyi: they did build it correctly, julien just tightened some screws and helped them secure it to the wall, AND jo DID fix the dent in the wall hehe <3

[rewritingcanon]

Louis headcanons… 🤲

YASSS OKAYYYYY 😻

looks mostly like his dad with his mums colour palate. also a little more snatched like his mum and not as built as his dad. but you can TELL he’s bill’s son if you were to see them side by side

french fuckboy

grew his hair out and had a ponytail era. when he let it loose people genuinely confused him to be a girl (yes he gets hit on by LOTS of confused men and lesbians 😭)

gryffindor with dominique. only a year older than james sirius potter.

closer to dominique than to victoire but respects victoire more funnily enough. kind of like victoire is a second mum. has no problem roasting the shit out of dominique but will check himself with victoire

has begged victoire to give in and date teddy because he desperately wants a cool brother (was happier than teddy and victoire combined when they did get tgt)

is the vain delacour that molly weasley feared fleur was, except he’s masculine as hell and flexes in every mirror he sees (he still looks like a girl)

VERY pretty and could win miss universe or best waifu

he was the femboy reckoning at hogwarts but against his will. he wants women but he keeps pulling men. like that inosuke guy.

best subject was charms and DADA, courtesy of his dad being very talented and his mum being the same except also add her being a drill sergeant

nepo babied his way into interning at gringotts but got on the goblins nerves sm they fired him anyway (louis still pretended to go in because he was so scared about what his parents + victoire would say)

made a secret tiktok account for posting his thirst traps until dominique and victoire found it and he was so embarrassed he deleted it

favourite cousin is roxanne despite their age gap just because shes always so hilarious and always down to do whatever and just never takes anything seriously (also she was the cutest baby in louis’ opinion). its less a friendship and more like a one sided smittenness on louis’ side— he has a whole folder on his camera roll dedicated to her being generally goofy

people use his face for clout and to catfish people all the time. every time his girl friends need to loyalty test their man they just snap a photo of his face

that being said, he IS the man you need to loyalty test. mf has fifteen girls on the back burner that still think they have a chance with him

that also being said, hes waiting for marriage 🙏 (he wants his first time to be special guyz)

that ALSO being said, absolutely no one thinks he’s going to last that long

likes bantering with his mum a lot and getting on her nerves. she’ll start swearing at him in french when rapidly lecturing him in english doesn’t work and he finds that to be the funniest shit ever

bill weasley is such a Daughter Dad so he’ll baby tf out of victoire and dominique and then get louis to do all the household chores 💀

but louis is also the biggest diva in the family by far so bill and fleur drop more money on him than victoire and dominique combined. and then they complain about how spoilt their son is and the girls are just like “🙄 stop buying him shit then 😒”

meh at quidditch but decides he hates it because he’s not the best at it (it’s an ego thing)

really likes his maternal cousins and only allows aunt gabrielle to plait his hair

godfather is uncle percy 😭 every time its his bday louis forces percy to go shopping so he can drop some big bucks on him (whatever karma percy accumulated in his youth has taken the form of his godson now).

lucy is a year older than him and they keep feuding over her dad. think blue haired liberal versus white blond conventionally attractive man. thats the relationship, and its hilarious especially during joint family dinners.

used to be very scared of the dark and couldnt sleep by himself and so victoire was always forced to let louis sleep with her when they were younger

also always goes to victoire for hair care help and his mum for skincare and fashion help

despite being seemingly easygoing and carefree, he can hold VERY mean grudges and will never apologise for something if he doesn’t think he’s in the wrong.

also will fist fight someone over a yo mama joke (yes he’s sensitive about his mum, don’t insult her to his face)

everyone knows louis for the menace he is except grandma molly who treats him like hes the sun that the earth circles around (yes grandma molly likes bill’s kids the most, what of it?)

louis is surprisingly very sweet to old people. he does his due diligence and visits them the most, brings new presents to arthur and helps molly with chores and lets them fuss over him.

okayyyy i think ive yapped enough

[doiefy]

mad city // nct series

GENRE: sci fi, biopunk, dystopian, thriller PAIRINGS: features both x reader and mxm fics MEMBERS: johnny, doyoung, jaehyun, jungwoo, mark, possibly more to come!

note: if this series looks somewhat familiar, it's because it is! this is a massive rework of my old 'fight or flight' fic for doyoung, which I posted almost two years ago (pls don't read it, like 69% of it isn't canon anymore and I kinda hate it anyways). it's been a real struggle turning it into something I actually want to write for again (which involved changing the original plotline from x reader to dojae, for which I am VERY unapologetic, don't fucking touch me), but after a year or so of on-and-off planning, here it is. I can't guarantee that I’ll get these fics out super speedily, as I also want them to be very visual and will be spending a shit ton of time on graphics; but if you're interested in a tag list for any of these fics, let me know!

WHAT PEOPLE HAVE REFERRED TO AS THE SPLIT: the fracturing of life as it once was, the steady decline of the natural world, all perpetuating political tensions and rampant crime in two rival cities. 

To the north lies Iameh, an urban paradise of impressive art and culture, resulting from centuries of mining and exploitation—a pristine exterior built upon the hardship of their southern neighbours. In one of their forgotten limestone quarries lies Siacia: Iameh’s shadow, their forsaken history, but a thriving metropolis nonetheless. 

Siacia is all the blinding colours and deafening sound that Iameh is not, boasting citizens with supernatural powers and the most sinister advancements in biotech. From their empty mineshafts and grotesque lifeforms in the quarry lake arises Burner: the Siacians’ fuel, their weaponry, and their only chance against the genetic mutations that plagued them for generations.

But like all things that come out of the ground, Burner is exploited. It is quickly monopolized, used as a drug, turned into a bargaining chip by the Assembly, a loose organization of businessmen and mutants claiming to be Siacia’s ruling government. Those on the streets of the Quarry and its four cardinal faces know very well: what the Assembly demands from them must be given, lest they face their wrath. 

So the fissure spreads and opens wider between the two cities, between all people—only a matter of time before one finds themselves dangling off the edge. 

VOLUME 1: FIGHT OR FLIGHT

pairing: doyoung x jaehyun dark comedy with a side of angst, gay shenanigans and way too many dirty jokes.

KIM DOYOUNG HAS SPENT THE LAST THREE YEARS surviving the Quarry streets alone: hunting bounties for the Coffee Cow (a ruthless contract killing agency despite their name), making poor decisions at drinking establishments, and searching for his missing brother. 

It’s on one trip to the bar that he runs into Jay: a charming, well-mannered businessman from the East Lanes, with a dimpled smile and particular taste for aged whiskey. One occasion turns into two into multiple—the two seeing each other more frequently with slowly-changing intentions, until the truth comes out. Jay, Jung Jaehyun to his close colleagues, is one of the Assembly’s founding members. Which, unfortunately, means he might have something to do with Doyoung’s missing brother, and makes him one hell of an enticing target.

The resultant cat-and-mouse chase across the city is as frustrating as it is exhilarating. But in a shocking turn of events, it reveals a destructive force beyond the both of them, one that needs their immediate attention and collaboration—regardless of who they are to each other. 

anticipated release: summer/fall 2024

VOLUME 2: VIOLET CRAZY

pairing: kim jungwoo x f!reader, johnny seo x reader angst wrapped in drama, tumultuous relationships, a slow but sure descent into madness.

In the aftermath of Johnny Seo’s return, the city of Siacia is not as it once was. Tensions with Iameh are on a steady incline, Assembly politics remain a treacherous game, all while a new strain of Burner spreads through the streets like wildfire. You and Kim Jungwoo are most apathetic to the recent chaos—the two of you like two sides of the same coin, both endlessly spiteful, now embroiled in a feud of your own. For as long as you could remember, your relationship with Jungwoo was one purely of grudge and petty revenge. 

But when Johnny begins his reign of terror, perhaps the two of you are in no position to be idle bystanders. Tragedy strikes Jungwoo’s family, and he has a reluctant change of heart. On the other hand, you remain by Johnny’s side, simply watching his flames burn hotter and rise higher. Merely overnight, your long-standing rivalry with Jungwoo has turned into a struggle for the future of the undercity. The inevitable resurfacing of your past, your forgotten history with Jungwoo, and Johnny’s inexplicable grip on you—it won’t be long before it all reaches a boiling point in the crucible. 

And certainly not long before you’re forced to face the repercussions. 

anticipated release: summer 2025

VOLUME 3: RIDE OR DIE

pairing: mark lee x gn!reader from meet-cute to heated romance. ride or die. madly in love to the bittersweet end.

Breakfast tea with magazines and tabloids. Clay-stained aprons and paint-smeared jeans. Afternoon tea with so-and-so, then back to the kiln and canvases. Dinner party with your fellow curators, handling flawless plates and dainty dessert spoons and immaculate champagne glasses—rinse and repeat, again and again, the routine of an Iamehan artist and socialite. 

Quickly growing tired of all the glitter and glamour of topside, you take a trip back to your roots: the north faces of Siacia, where you can shed all the silk and cashmere in exchange for the nightlife you grew up with. Dancing wildly to rediscover yourself and inspire your art, that’s when you find your muse: Mark Lee, a VIP at the Obelisk Nightclub, blue-haired and bright-eyed, immersed in the stories you tell him. 

You could stay with him forever, seeking thrills and adventure until you reach the ends of the earth. And yet, there is still much more awaiting: the unpleasant and the unideal, and the thwarting of your course by the stars above. 

anticipated release: TBD

VOLUME 4: WHEN THE SUN SETS

pairing: johnny seo x gn!reader psychological horror turned body horror. toxic romance and a tragic end. (!!) mature content, including manipulative, toxic relationships and darker themes some readers may find disturbing.

Johnny Seo is a reasonable man. A patient man, certainly, never reckless, never cruel. Johnny is loving, the perfect lover. Devoted, and devoted wholeheartedly to you. 

In the days and months after the Assembly’s establishment, he keeps you with him at every turn of the road: arm around your waist, head in the crook of your neck, always whispering and promising you better days. A sovereign Siacia is coming, he says. She will be free from the clutches of your northern neighbours, free to do as she pleases. You believe him—until one night, when he comes home bloody and beat-up, furious and unrecognizable. 

Johnny Seo is a meticulous man. A calculated mastermind, certainly, never reckless until he’s perfectly sure, never cruel unless he has to be. Johnny is cunning, the perfect trickster. Obsessive, and obsessed with keeping your memory alive. Obsessed with keeping you with him, an eternal part of him.

anticipated release: TBD

[atwingeofcringe]

Rescue

A/N: i didnt mean for this to be so long but i was thinking about it for weeks! also this changes the end of the 2009 reboot! hope you guys like it! Summary: you come to Jason's rescue Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Reader Warnings: guns, blood, death, use of female pronouns towards the end Word Count: 3,039

🪓

The rain harshly pounding on the roof of your cabin roused you from your sleep. Still, you lay with your eyes closed, not wanting risk being awake for the rest of the night if you did. Bright flashes from the lightning could still be seen from behind your eyelids. Ugh, it’s going to be hard getting back to sleep like this.

It wasn’t until a loud, rumbling boom of thunder that was strong enough to shake your cabin slightly that you jolted up. Yeah, you’re definitely not getting back to sleep. You sighed, trying to calm yourself from the silly jumpscare and rolled over to cuddle your boyfriend for comfort. Another sigh escapes you as your hand felt around in the dark on his side of the bed, only to realize he wasn’t there.

There was nothing concerning about Jason not being home at this hour. He’s gotten home at later hours before. But as you looked out the window at the storm, the rain pummeling the glass, you couldn’t help but feel something was… wrong.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and planted your feet on the floor. Wrapping your arms around yourself as a chill tickled your skin, you made your way downstairs towards the kitchen. Another boom of thunder caught you slightly off guard as you stepped into the kitchen and you rolled your eyes.

“Maybe some tea will calm me down.” You mumbled to yourself and flipped on the light switch. At least the power is still working. You picked up the tea kettle from the stove top and filled it with water at the sink.

As you waited for the kettle to fill to your desired amount, the feeling of something being wrong came back to your mind. You shivered slightly and hoped Jason was okay.

“Of course he’s okay.” You told yourself and carried the kettle back to the stove. You turned on the burner, got yourself a mug from the cabinet, and set it o the counter. “He’ll be back soon.”

Your attempt at comforting yourself wasn’t working that well. Thoughts of Jason in trouble flooded your mind no matter how much you tried to push them back. You haven’t seen him since yesterday evening. He always told you told you stay in the cabin late at night. It’s too dangerous since it’s harder to see the traps he’s set up and the locations of other traps change all the time.

Just as the kettle went off a new thought entered your mind. What if he’s in the tunnels? You know that a little over a month ago he started holding a girl captive down there. You were confused since he had never done that before until you noticed the locket hanging around her neck. She resembled a young version of his mother.

You heart ached for her as you knew Jason would never let her go. Sometimes you’d sneak her extra food if she was still hungry but you’d never stay long enough to converse with her. If you did, you know you’d be tempted to let her go and you never want to betray Jason.

You quickly turned off the burner, moved the kettle to the other side of the stove, and rushed out of the kitchen. Your shoes were quickly thrown on and you made your way to the wooden hatch door. It was hidden under the rug in the living room. Jason, despite your protests, built it so he could have easier access to the house from the tunnels, just in case.

The tunnel entrance was shallow and well lit, making it easy for you to confidently sink in. You had the bend over for a while as you walked through but it eventually opened up into a wider area. The place was dead quiet and all your hopes of Jason being there were dashed away.

Still, you decided to have a look around to see if you could get a clue to where he was. So far nothing seemed strange or out of place except for some things that were thrown about. It wasn’t until you got to the corner where he was holding that girl that your stomach dropped.

She was gone.

You ran back through the tunnels the way you came and lifted yourself out of the hatch. Panic quickly took over your body and carried you to the front door. You stopped momentarily to grab the shotgun that leaned against the wall and threw open the front door. The storm was was the least of your worries.

You had no idea where you were going but you ran anyway. The pelted your skin as you refused to slow down. A barn came into view and you recognized it as the one Jason frequently took kerosene from. You pushed yourself to run just a little faster. A faint rumbling sound could be heard over the rain as you approached.

Two voices could be heard, a man and a woman. The woman’s you recognized as the one Jason had chained up in the tunnels. Rage was now building up inside you. You readied your shotgun and stepped into the entrance of the barn.

The view before you tore your heart in two and tears pricked at your eyes. The two people were turned away from you, breathing heavily, and comforting each other. In front of them was Jason, a bear trap clamped onto his shoulder, the attached chain was looped around his throat while the other end was tangled in the wood chipper. Jason’s name ripped through your throat in an agonized scream causing the two people to whip around in surprise.

“Clay, that’s her!” Screamed the girl. “She’s with him!”

“Shut the fuck up!” You screamed back, tears now streaming down your face. “Let him go, right now!” The shotgun in your hands was now aimed at their chests. They stood there stunned, unsure of what to do. “I said now!” You cocked the shotgun causing them to jump.

“You’re fucking crazy!” The guy, Clay, yelled.

This only angered you and without thinking you aimed the shotgun at his legs and pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through his skin and he screamed out in pain, falling to the ground. The girl screamed out his name and sank to the ground with him, trying to put pressure on his wound.

“Don’t fuck with me!” You warned. As if the gun shot wound wasn’t enough.

“Okay, okay…” the girl trailed off as she started sobbing.

“Get up, now!” Your gun was aimed at her head. Slowly she rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving the gun. “Now, turn that machine off.” You demanded.

With the same slowness, she turned around and proceeded forward. You followed her with your gun now pointed at her back, stepping past Clay. He watched you with a fierce anger in his eyes. You couldn’t blame him. But you, too, are willing to do what it takes to protect your loved one.

The girl reached out to the lever of the wood chipper. Before she pulled it, two hands reached around you and grabbed your gun, trying to pry it pry it from your hands. You spun around and tried to shove the gun forward, intending to hit your assailant in the face with it. A second pair of arms prevented you as they pulled you back.

“Hurry up!” The girl screamed. “Take the gun!”

“I’m trying!” Clay grunted.

His grip on the shotgun was like iron and it was getting harder to keep your own grip as he pulled. In a fit of panic you forced your elbow back, hitting the girl in the face, causing her to let go. Then, you reared your leg back brought it up with as much force as you could muster, kicking Clay in the groin. He released the gun and doubled over in pain on the ground once again. You cocked the gun and spun around just in time to see the girl rushing at you for the gun again. Still panicking and without a second thought you aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.

“WHITNEY!” Clay cried out. He finally found his sister after 6 months of nonstop searching and she was suddenly ripped away from again. This time, with no hope of returning.

This surprised even yourself. You had no intention of actually killing them, just scaring them enough so they’d do what you want and then never come back. Your hands began shaking and your grip on the shot gun loosened. “I… didn’t mean-“

You were cut off by Clay grabbing the gun from your hands and shoving you to the ground. Now, you were on the other end and you were terrified. You glanced behind Clay where Jason still was. His body bent backwards over the wood chipper that was still rumbling loudly. The sound of the shotgun being cocked made you look back up at the person before you.

“We just want to be left alone…” you said weakly. “I was going to let you go, I swear!” You tried pleading with him.

“He kidnapped my sister!” His face was red with anger and tears flowed down his face. “And then you killed her!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” Your whole body was shaking now as tears streamed down your face as well. “Please…” you trailed off, knowing you had no right to beg for your life after what you did. You bowed your head and clamped your eye shut waiting for your final moments.

“No, you don’t deserve to live after that.” It seemed he was hesitating though because after a few seconds nothing came.

As you opened your eyes you spotted Jason’s machete within reach. An idea formed in your head and you slowly looked back up at Clay. “You’re right, I don’t.” Your voice came out shaky. “I feel terrible for what I did and nothing I say or do can bring her back. This wasn’t supposed to be the outcome.”

He stood there silently, a look on his face that seemed like he was deep in thought. It was a slight movement but you noticed his finger loosen on the trigger and you took that as your moment. You kicked Clay in his knee, sending him stumbling. As he tries to regain his composure you dove for the machete. In the blink of an eye Clay was aiming the shotgun back at your head as you looked up into his eyes. They were wide with shock as he looked down at the machete buried deep within his chest. He dropped the gun and gripped the handle of the weapon sticking out of him, stumbling backwards a couple feet as blood seeped out of his mouth.

You breathed heavily as his body fell to the ground, lifeless. But you didn’t stare too long as you remembered Jason. You forced the lever into the off position and everything suddenly fell silent. The chain around Jason’s neck was stuck in the wood chipper and would be impossible for you to yank out.

“Come on, come on!” You pleaded through gritted teeth as you now tried to pry open the bear trap on his arm. It took a lot of force but you managed to get it off. You guessed it was the adrenaline. With the bear trap now free you could loosen the chain. You did it slowly and meticulously so as not to possibly hurt him any further.

When he was finally free his body slumped to the ground with a loud thud, dirt, dust, and straw went flying. With the last bit of your strength you shoved him over onto his back and looked him over. He was wearing a mask you hadn’t seen before. Your eyes traveled down to his chest where you finally noticed the stab wound. They had stabbed him through the center of his chest with his machete.

“Jason…” the tears were flowing again. “My Jason…”

You laid your head on his chest and your heart leaped with joy and relief as you could hear his heart beat. It was faint but still there and that’s all you needed to keep your hopes high. Sitting back up, you cupped the side of his face with one hand and shook his shoulder with the other.

“Come on, wake up! We need to get you home!” You sniffled. When he didn’t move you shook him again. “Jason, please!”

No matter what you tried he just laid there. You didn’t want to give up but you were lost on what to do. You settled with the fact that you’d just have to be patient and wait. Not wanting to leave him there you placed your head on his chest, avoiding his wound, and listened to his breathing and heart beat. Your head followed the shallow rise and fall of his chest and you curled into him.

The rain had long since stopped and the the sun is now coming up, birds chirping happily outside together. You grew tired as you laid there on Jason’s chest after the adrenaline wore off, but you fought the urge to sleep in case his condition worsened. However, you were pleasantly surprised when he suddenly sucked in a deep breath.

You tried to sit up to get a look at him but he aggressively grabbed you and was now hovering over you and pinning you down. His eyes showed he was panic and anger, not realizing what was happening.

“Jason, wait!” You yelled, brining your hands up to protect yourself.

Your voice broke him out of his panicked state and he stared down at you, breathing heavily. Slowly, he got off of you and looked around, spotting the bodies of the two people he was after earlier. He looked back down at you and pulled you up into a tight hug. Not tight enough to hurt you but enough to to convey how he was feeling. Fear, relief, disappointment, happiness, and anger. Overall he was happy you were ok and sorry that he worried you so badly that it came to this. He doesn’t like for you to see these things.

You pulled away enough to look up at him, your watery eyes braking his heart. “We need to get you home to fix your wounds.” You said beckoned him to stand with you.

His wounds didn’t hurt that much, he’s had worse. But he’d follow you and let you take care of him if that’s what will help you. He stood and walked over to Clay’s body, ripping his machete out of his chest and hung it from his belt.

His hand reached out for you to take it but you suddenly remembered something. He watched you, confused, as you walked over Whitney’s corpse. But his confusion was soon alleviated when you walked back over to him and holding out your hand. You were holding his mother’s locket. He gently took it from your hand and popped it open, letting his thumb run over the picture his mom.

You rested your hand gently on his shoulder, getting his attention. “Let’s go home, okay?”

He looked at you and nodded, tucking the locket away in his pocket. You picked up the shotgun then he took your hand and lead you out of the barn and back home.

Once back at the house, you lead him to the bathroom so he could clean up. You laid out clean clothes for him and took his dirty ones to the laundry room. You’ve always hated cleaning blood but at his point you were used to it. You let out a soft sigh as you closed the door to the washing machine and headed for the front door again. Jason had dropped his machete on the floor there since you didn’t want him carrying it through the cabin. You picked up and brought it to the kitchen to clean it off in the sink.

Seeing the letting and mug sitting out made you remember you were going to make some tea. You felt now you needed it or more than ever. Setting the machete down in the sink, you turned and behind heating up the kettle again. You also pulled another a second mug out the cabinet just in case Jason wanted some too. He usually didn’t but after what happened last night, he might.

Jason wrapped his arms around your middle, making you jump slightly. How can such a large man sneak around so quietly? You turned around in his arms and hugged him tightly, being mindful of his wounds. He’s still wearing that mask from earlier. When he left the cabin in a rush yesterday he was wearing his cloth mask. Now he’s wearing a red and white plastic mask.

“Where did you get this?” You asked cupping his face. Of course you weren’t expecting him to answer, though.

He just leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. He sighed, slowly rocking you side to side in a comforting manor.

“Can I take care of you now?” You asked, giving him a pleading look.

He nodded and sat down at the table, letting you look him over. His more serious injuries were already wrapped up and cared for since he didn’t want you to see them. He waited patiently as you tended to his smaller ones and fussed over him. He hates to see you worry but he can’t help but love that you make such a big deal over him. It makes him feel loved and his heart full.

When you finished, he gently took your hand, stopping you from walking away to put the first aid kit away, and placed you knuckles against his mask where his mouth is, as if he was kissing them.

‘Thank you.’

You smiled and placed the first aid kit back down, bringing Jason into another hug. His arms wrapped around your waist and his head rested against your chest, breathing in your scent.

“I love you, Jason.”

Jason pulled you into his lap and held your hand over his heart.

‘I love you, too’