#escapism lets go off someplace new

[feintenstein]

I had information that drawing yourself could help with confidence. So I tried again

[mariahcarreyyy]

Can you write a lando norris x fem reader fic where they do anal (fem receiving) cause he won a race or championship or something please

+ my first smut ever go easy on me pls 🙈🙈

𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗭𝗘, 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘀

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

plot: after Lando wins his first grand prix race, you let him explore a new area in your sex life-- taking it from the backdoor.

wc: 2.8k { shes a long one ;) }

warning(s): smut 18+, anal fingering (fem rec.), anal sex (fem rec.), celebratory sex, the overuse of the words 'fuck' and 'baby', swearing, and mild mention of champagne.

The post-race flush on your boyfriend's face that Sunday afternoon was nothing new: his cheeks twinged were crimson and a broad smile was etched onto his face, clashing dangerously with his papaya race suit.

What was new, however, was that Lando's feet were placed neither on the third step of the podium nor the second. He stood victoriously on the top step, raising his large silver trophy above his head and beaming at the ecstatic crowd.

The Silverstone winners' green eyes meet yours in his struggle of drowning in champagne, mouthing, 'I love you.'

'I love you more,' you mouth back, no longer resisting the urge to let your proud tears escape your waterline. 

Hours later, the thrill of Lando winning his first race was as strong as ever. It twirled recklessly around you and Lando's sweaty bodies and booming music. The high-end club was overflowing with Formula One drivers and media personnel. All celebrating your boyfriend's first win, no doubt.

You and Lando had been separated at some point during the night, lost in the purple and blue LED lights of the club, and you found yourself dancing with whoever had been willing to. Witnessing his girlfriend sway against the bodies of a stranger hadn't bothered him, because the two of you were aware that no one could touch you like he could—make you feel as good as he could.

Fuck, his blue jeans grew tighter against his crotch, eyes stubbornly planted on the curve of your hips and watching as they moved seductively to the beat of the music.

The hair on the nape of your neck rose, somehow aware that someone was watching you. You detach yourself from the stranger—a fairly attractive blond in his late twenties—and turn around only to be met with your boyfriend's eyes for the second time that day.

When he turns back around to face the bartender, you advance towards his seat and wrap your arms around his waist from behind.

"Hi, baby," he smiles as you rub your forehead against the crook of his neck.

Like a cat, he thinks.

"Hey," you murmur, muffled by the cotton of his black shirt. Breathing in, you think you have become drunk on the deep musk of his cologne. "Y'smell so good."

Lando tips his head back with a boastful laugh, but it falters when he feels your soft lips slowly trailing up his neck, smirking, "Yeah? You wanna take this someplace else?"

You crane your neck up, biting your bottom lip as you nod shyly. Lando doesn't need any further confirmation; he stands up, and your hands consequently fall from his tan stomach. A whine nearly escapes you at the loss of physical touch, but he's quick to interlace your hand in his.

Sometimes, you believe he can read your mind.

"Don't let go," he demands, pushing past the swarm of drunken crowds (and also leading you to rub your thighs together in hopes of relieving yourself, but you chose not to acknowledge it).

In a matter of thirty minutes, you were able to escape the suffocating atmosphere and catch a cab back to your hotel. The moment the door of the hotel room shut behind you, Lando placed both of his veiny hands on your waist, pressing your bodies together and attacking your lips.

Your body was on fire, and the pit in your stomach screamed for relief. Lando couldn't fucking stop kissing you. And even if he could, he wouldn't dare be the first to pull away.

Lando Norris was not one for alcohol, but he would get drunk off the peachy scent of your conditioner if he could. 

The driver's hand stilled on your cheek to tip your head back and deepen the kiss, while the other tugged on the hem of your little black dress. You let out a pathetic whimper against his lips, and Lando takes it as permission to slip his tongue inside.

Hesitantly, you pull away, albeit not very far. You could count Lando's faint freckles, and your nose brushes against his occasionally. You meet his eyes and fight the urge to look down at your feet because he's looking at you like you hung the fucking stars in the sky. A grin breaks out on his face, and he resumes his feathery touches on your dress. "C'mon, baby, take this off f'me."

You blink dumbly at him. Lando doubles over, emitting that laugh that you love so much. That hyena-like, gigglish shriek. When it dawns on you that you might be staring a little too hard, you immediately reach for your dress, lifting it above your hips and shrugging it off your shoulder.

Lando curses softly under his breath and urgently lays his palms back on your hips. He presses your lips together again, softer and gentler, and your heart aches. Warmth consumes you as you lean into the kiss, Lando's lips impossibly soft against your own.

Lando gently taps his index finger on the crease separating your ass and thighs. You know, just from his touch, what he needs, and of course you do; there have been too many nights of you waking up together, tangled in white bedsheets, for you not to.

You jump, your lips still connected, and your head dizzy from his touch. His palms wrap beneath your legs, carrying you to bed like you weighed about as much as a feather. 

And like, Lando manhandling you shouldn't make you want to ride him till he cries, but it does. It only made the need in between your thighs stronger. 

Soon enough, you're splayed out on his sheets with Lando's pillowy lips sucking all over your neck, painting it with soft hues of lilac.

The fabric covering your boyfriend's body makes you jut your bottom lip out, whining, "Take it off, Lan, please."

Lando pulls away with half-lidded eyes, resting on his calves as he fumbles to free himself from the constraints of his clothes. And well, you definitely didn't lift your hips against his clothed dick at the sight of his defined abs. 

Lando breathes sharply and spreads your legs to rub your pussy through your panties. You whine, trying and failing to grind up against his palm because his other hand is firm against your lower stomach.

"Mm, so good f'me, so wet." Lando moans lightly, pushing your lace to the side, and—oh fuck, he's rubbing your clit.

You thrash against his touch, gasping as you heave out, "Lan, no, please, no."

The drivers' previous lust-filled eyes are tainted with worry now. "What's wrong, baby? I do somethin'?"

You almost chuckle fondly at how fast he retracts his arm from in between your thighs (and also cry). You shake your head, lifting your hand—which had been previously gripping at the sheets—to cradle his defined cheekbones.

"No, no, baby, 'tis not that," you gulp, and his wory morphs into confusion, urging you to continue. "I just, I dunno, I know how much you wanted to fuck me from the back, so I, uh, thought we could do it tonight."

Shit. 

Lando doesn't know what he expected to hear, but it was sure as fuck not that. To his own surprise, Lando somehow grows harder in the confines of his boxer. A grin adorns his face, despite the pain between his legs. "Fuck, you sure, baby? I know I jus' won a race, but that doesn't mean we have to, princess."

"I know," you reassure him, trailing your hand down to his boxers and palming at his erection. "I want to; y'looked so fucking hot on that top step."

"Yeah?" He sucks in a sharp breath, and you hum sweetly, squeezing his dick harder.

Lando's hips stutter against your touch, grinding down in an attempt to relieve his ache. Mustering up his last shred of dignity, Lando somehow manages to pull away, making you whine for what felt like the 1000th time tonight.

He chuckles, stepping off the bed to tug his boxers down and reach for the strawberry-scented lube on his nightstand that, as you both learned, all high-end hotels supplied. Lando eagerly sits in the space of your spread legs, leaning forward to place wet kisses along your collarbone till he reaches your tits.

You moan softly when he wraps his hot mouth around your nipple, and Lando goes fucking ballistic. The sound echoes in his head like a broken radio. Lando wants to take it out and store it in a guarded safe somewhere in India. 

The driver alternates between each boob, flicking his tongue against one and rolling the nub of the other with his fingers. Your hand quickly finds solace in his curls, arching your back to bring him closer. When he pulls away with a kiss to your sensitive nub, you find it hard not to be hyper-aware of the thick cock resting against your thigh.

You roll your hips impatiently, and satisfaction engulfs your body when Lando reaches for the discarded lube on the bed. With a pop, he pulls the lid and squeezes a generous amount on his palm. He rubs his hands together, the friction warming the lube well.

You would be a liar if you said a swarm of erratic butterflies hadn't swarmed your stomach. Lando would make this enjoyable; you knew that, but he couldn't completely take the pain away. Taking a deep breath in, you reach for Lando's clean hand.

He intertwines them beside your hip without asking a question.

He pokes a wet finger against your rim, asking, "You ready, love?"

"Yup," popping the 'p', satisfied with yourself at how well you were hiding your nerves.

Lando pushes in, and he barely has half of his index finger inside you, but holy fuck, the sight drives him crazy. The hold on his hand tightens, and he forces his eyes away from his finger wrapped around your asshole to look at you.

"H-how're you feeling, love?" Lando stutters at the feeling of your asshole clenching around his digit. "Relax, baby, you've gotta relax f'me, please."

Tears well up on your waterline, blurring your vision of Lando kneeling in front of you. It took a few seconds, but the pain eventually subsided, and Lando took that as a sign to push deeper.

Lando tries his absolute hardest not to moan loudly, instead focusing on the heat of your ass wrapped around his index. He removes it, leaving no time for you to question him before he shoves a second finger inside.

"Oh!" You arch your back, eyebrows furrowing, when the pleasure starts bubbling in your stomach. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Shit," Lando says, because your writhing against his fingers, begging for more, more, more, has reduced him to a man of few words. "Doin' so fucking well for me, baby."

The driver continues to fuck his fingers into your ass, twisting and curling every once in a while. Your head tilts back against the mattress, and your mouth hangs in a permanent 'o'.

"You think y'ready for m'cock, darling?" 

You don't--cant-- bring yourself to answer. Your mind, you believed, had officially melted into a puddle, spilling out of your ear. Lando curls his fingers, as if nudging you on the shoulder and saying, Hey, I'm talking to you.

You screech, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. His gaze, that makes you feel so delicate. His gaze, that makes your head void of any thoughts. His gaze, that you wanted on you forever.

You nod, and he carefully pulls his digits out. Lando grips the base of his cock lazily because he knows he won't be able to last long, and he'd be damned if he was about to spend one less second inside you. 

Lando lines his dick up against your stretched-out rim, fingers untangling from yours, and instead rests them on the small of your waist. When Lando pushes the tip inside your hole, the pain that shoots up your spine causes your hands to fly up to your back, clawing at him to distract yourself. 

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Lando repeats like a prayer.

You felt so fucking wet, so tight around his cock. Lando was sure that if he died like this—naked, sweaty, and with his cock shoved deep inside your ass—he'd die happily.

The feeling of Lando's fingers was incomparable to the sensation—and pain—of his length filling you up inch by inch. The room smells of sex, Lando's perfume, and strawberry-scented lube, and once the pain finally subsided, you realized you needed him fully inside you now.

You wrap your legs around his hips, the balls of your feet pressing against his lower back as you beg, "Please, Lan, I need you, need you to fill me up, please."

Lando swears under his breath, hands gripping at your waist so hard that you're sure you'd look in the mirror the next morning to see your hips painted a lilac and indigo blue sunset. He pushed further inside, his eyes glued to your asshole, stretching to accommodate his thickness and sucking him in, moaning loudly when you accidentally clenched around him.

"Fuck, baby, y-you're taking all of me," Lando gasps in disbelief, biting his bottom lip as his eyes roll back.

You haven't said a single thing, reduced to a whimpering mess and tear-stained cheeks. When your fingernails dig deeper into his back, Lando blinks, ripped out of his lust-haze trance.

Lando tries to focus. Really, he does. But shit, you're clenching sinfully around his cock and fluttering around it as if to say, more more more.

"Lando," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear, painting his back with crescent moons from your fingernails (you'd feel bad if it wasn't for his dick splitting you in half). "Fuck me."

Lando groans at that, wasting no time before pulling his hips back and slamming them back inside. You shrieked, and at this point, you were sure that Lando's back was bleeding from your nails' assault.

You look up at Lando through your eyelashes, jutting out your bottom lip. Your boyfriend's hips don't falter when he leans down and kisses you. It was different. It was messy and hot, and you let out a choked sob against his lips.

With wide eyes, Lando pulls away. "Are you okay, baby? 'Doin so fucking well f'me, fuck, good girl."

You moan, the praise making you impossibly more horny, and nod your head frantically, reaching for your clit between your thighs. Lando tuts, removing a hand from your pretty waist to plant your arms against the pillow above you. 

"Please, Lan, I need it, need it so bad." You helplessly grind your clit against nothing.

And who the hell was Lando Norris to say no?

With the new-found pleasure of relieving clit, you are 100% sure that if you ever were to die and go to heaven, it would look like this. It would feel like this.

Lando isn't ashamed that he wouldn't last long, not when you feel this fucking good, not when he can hear your high-pitched moans and uneven breaths. With a stutter of his hips and a particularly loud groan, you already knew he was close.

"Fuck! Baby, I-I cant," he doubles over, frantically rubbing tiny circles against your clit and attacking your neck with his lips. "I'm gonna-"

You arch your back as though you're getting a fucking exorcism because, holy shit, the feeling of his hot semen filling you up is way hotter than it should be. Lando pistons his hips in and out of you through his high, and with one last cry, black spots cover your vision. 

"Fuck!- oh, fuck, lan, lan, lan," you repeat his name like a prayer because he might as well be god. Your arms thrash in Lando's hold, already yearning for his touch like you always do post-sex.

Lando releases a guttural groan as he pulls his softening dick out, twitching when your asshole involuntarily clenches around him. You're still breathing so fucking loud when he collapses beside you and wraps an arm around your neck to rest your head against his chest.

Lando shifts, tugging the thick blanket around your sweaty, cum-painted bodies before you hear, "Shit! Baby, didn't mean to hold 'em that hard, does it hurt?" 

You furrow your brows, following Lando's eyeline; your otherwise plain wrists were adorned with the scarlet imprint of your boyfriend's hand. 

Shrugging, you scoot up and bury your forehead on the crook of his neck, mumbling, "Don't care."

Lando places a mental reminder to put some cream on it in the morning, but for now, he's happy to place small kisses on the top of your head, whispering praises and 'thank you's into your ear.

When you rub your head against him shyly at his words, Lando can't help but laugh fondly at you.

Like a cat, he thinks again.

Lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🧸

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[bountydroid]

Darlin' pt 8

pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 4 / pt 5 / pt 6 / pt 7 (SMUT) / pt 9

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (Romance)

Description: Cooper and Reader enjoy SuperDuperMart.

TW: Mentions of bad parenting and emotional abuse, mentions of sex but no smut.

The next couple of days felt like pure bliss. We spent our time exploring SuperDuperMart, finding endless supplies. I even finally was able to change my clothes into something cleaner. It was surprising that the place was not more ransacked than it was. Maybe it was the location that protected it. Eventually, I had Cooper move the bodies away from the couch and into a different room. During the act, I was too distracted to mind, but the idea of having sex next to them bothered me. The flickering lights and the decrepit couch started to feel like home, someplace we could stay forever. The large supply of Jet would have him set for a long time so he no longer needed to worry about making money to survive. 

More often than not, we ended the days wrapped up in each other, naked on the couch. Bit by bit, Cooper started to open up to me more. Telling me bits and pieces about his ex-wife and daughter. He would never admit it but it hurt him to talk about it so he didn't say much, but was grateful for anything he was willing to give me. I told him more about my home. My father and brothers who kept me locked away in the house, constantly cooking and cleaning. The romance books that I hid under my bed so my father wouldn't take them away. How desperately I wanted to escape but was too afraid to for so long.

"Someday, I'm going to pay that man a visit." He hissed; the venom clear in his voice. 

While I was grateful that he wanted to avenge me, I was happy with the idea of never going back there again. Not even for revenge. They didn't deserve to know I was alive and happy. Not that they would care.

On this particular day, we ended the night like we always did, naked on the couch with me sprawled out on top of him, a light blanket covering the bottom half of my body. It was becoming my happy place, and he seemed to enjoy it just as much. 

"We've become domesticated," I mumbled into his chest, causing him to laugh.

"I will NEVER be domesticated, darlin'. I'm just takin' a break is all." He responded; determination clear in his voice. 

Honestly? I didn't mind the idea of leaving this place eventually. I would follow that man anywhere. "I'm excited for our next adventure then."

-

I woke up groggy and confused as I heard footsteps coming closer. Cooper groaned as he pulled the blanket farther up my body, shielding me from wandering eyes. 

"Why hello there boys. Now ya'll here for the ice cream social, I'm afraid I got some bad news." He said, converting back into his old, cocky self.

One of the men crouched in front of the couch, looking between us, a look of disgust clear on his face. I squeaked from the embarrassment as I clutched at the blanket.

"That is absolutely disgusting," He murmured at the sight of us before looking over at the robot that had been stuttering for days. "Take it's fusion core." He nodded to the other men. 

I was practically buzzing from the fear coursing through my body. Cooper could feel it, so he snaked his arm around me protectively.

"Now," The man started again. "Destroying a legitimate business? That's illegal around these parts." He said, a cocky tone in his voice. 

"Says who?" Cooper asked, anger clear in his voice. 

"The government." The man responds menacingly before one of the others hit Cooper in the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him out. We were so focused on the man in front of us that we didn't notice the one sneaking around the back of the couch.

"Cooper!" I squealed as one of the men grabbed my arm and wrenched me off of him causing the blanket to fall to the ground. "Well looky here." The man slurred as I tried my best to cover myself. "How did a ghoul get so lucky? You some sorta pervert?" 

"Let go of me!" I cried out, looking back to Cooper. He started to stir, slowly waking up from the temporary loss of consciousness. In response, the men pointed their guns at him. "No, please!" I pleaded. 

"Don't worry miss we ain't gonna shoot him." He explained, "As long as he doesn't fight, that is. Now get dressed." He said throwing me to the ground on top of our clothes pile. With shaky hands I did as I was told, grateful that they didn't have other plans for me. 

By the time I was dressed Cooper's eyes were open. He was seething, baring his teeth to the man in front of him. The man responded by grabbing my arm and spinning me around, so my back was against his chest as he cocked a gun against my forehead. "Your turn ghoul. Get dressed."

A retort died on the tip of Cooper's tongue as he saw the tears running down my face. He let out an angry grunt before quickly throwing his clothes back on. Before he could say a word, the man who hit him took a rope and tied it around his wrists. "You are coming with us." The man growled.

The man holding me didn't bother tying me up, instead opting to keep a tight hold on my bicep. It didn't take long to start hurting. I was definitely going to have a bruise. His companion walked next to Cooper, gun in hand ready to shoot him at a moment's notice. The walk was quiet, tension was thick in the air. We didn't know where they were taking us. "At least they seem to need us alive for now." I thought to myself, glancing back at Cooper.

"Eyes forward." The man hissed at me, shaking me slightly.

I did as I was told, not wanting to push my luck. After a couple of hours of walking, we found ourselves heading inside a neglected building. The inside was decorated like it was out of one of the movies Cooper had me watch at SuperDuperMart. The man holding Cooper pushed him through some swinging doors. 

"Well, shit." A man says as soon as Cooper enters the room.

Why, Sorrel Booker." He chuckled.

Hope swelled in my chest at the idea that they knew each other. That maybe we'd be lucky enough that he would let us go. Sorrel Booker was a bigger man, he was sitting comfortably at a table with a large piece of meat in front of him. We were obviously interrupting his meal. The two men threw us down into chairs at the table. 

"I heard it was a ghoul that fucked up that SuperDuperMart." Booker mused, "Nobody told me it was THE ghoul." He said before picking up his knife. "You know who you boys brought in?" He asked the two men behind us. "This sumbitch right here used to be the best bounty hunter to ever shoot a man in the ass. Kids these days don't know their goddamn history."

I looked down into my lap and fiddled with my hands. This man was so hard to read. I couldn't tell if he was friends with Cooper or not. When I looked back up Booker's eyes were on me.

"Who's your friend?" He asked Cooper.

Before Cooper could respond, one of the men piped up, "We found these two naked. Can ya believe it?" He said, a tone of revulsion in his voice. "Disgusting."

"Her name is Y/n." Cooper said, throwing a dirty look at the man behind him, "And she didn't do shit.”

"She's with ya. How innocent can she be?" Booker asked.

There was a moment of silence before Cooper asked, "Say you got a needle and thread?"

One of the men behind us scoffed, "Sorry, we don't do a lot of knittin' around here."

"It's called sewing," Cooper responded, unamused. "I think I got some in my bag."

Booker nodded toward one of his men who immediately complied with the order, pulling out a rag. I shot him a curious glance as the man unfolded the rag on the table, everyone giving Cooper a disgusted look as his finger rolled out. Cooper held up his wrists expectantly, silently asking to be unbound.

"Now come on now, Sorrel, we are old friends, ain't we?" Cooper said as he stared him down.

Booker took a moment before relenting, cutting Cooper loose. "Look at you. 200 years." My eyes opened wide in surprise, during our talks Cooper never mentioned he was 200 years old. "I don't know what keeps you goin'. Maybe you like the feelin' of that good old Californian sunshine on your wrinkly ass face. Or maybe this one isn't the first girl you've found willin' to fuck a ghoul." He finished.

Cooper glanced��over at me as he started sewing his finger back on his hand before saying, "Nah, she's one of a kind."

"How sweet." The man behind me said sarcastically. 

"Or maybe," Booker continued. "You're still lookin' for her."

I stiffened at his statement. Was there someone else?

"Well Sorrel, I can confidently cross one reason off that list for ya. I sure as hell ain't still alive so I can have unintelligent conversations with dipshits like yourself." Cooper responded. Booker had obviously hit a nerve. 

One of the men immediately responded by hitting Cooper in the head again with his gun. "Watch your mouth. That's the president of the government you're talkin' to." He sneered.

Cooper slowly leaned back into his chair. He looked calm, but I could see the anger still simmering inside of him. "Ah. You a president now?" He asked Sorrel.

"Don't see why not," Sorrel responded confidently, taking another bite of his food.

"Well, you might want to hire a publicist because this is the first I'm hearin' about this outfit. Now, what I am hearin' is a whole lot of chatter about some woman. Name of Moldaver." Cooper replied.

"They call her the flame mother. Now that bitch is dangerous." Sorrel said with a serious look on his face. 

"Well, when it comes to leadership these days, dangerous is what they call a prerequisite," Cooper said smirking.

"Somebody's gotta step up and bring some order around here. You know why these boys brought you in?" Booker asked, puffing out his chest. 

"Cause I fucked up a poor, defenseless, gang-affiliated organ dealership?" Cooper mumbled, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Yup," Sorrel said with conviction. "Now I've always liked you-"

"Well, I've always liked you," Cooper interrupted with a smile on his face.

"Well, ain't that sweet. But that SuperDuperMart you two gutted was under our protection. So, if I wanted to let you go scot-free, folks might lose faith about what we are trying to do here. And then what?" Booker explained.

"Anarchy in the streets," Cooper answered.

"Exactly, so you got anything to say in your defense?" Sorrel asked.

"Guilty as charged." The ghoul responded confidently. I gave him a look of disbelief as he happily wiggled his finger. 

"Just like that?" Sorrel asked, surprised. 

"Just. Like. That." He smiled. "Now if you need any more evidence, I can tell you about this town I just shot up, Filly." 

"Cooper." I hissed angrily. Finally breaking my silence. 

He smiled at me, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Oh, I must have killed nine or ten people." He continued, "She didn't do shit." He repeated. 

"My daddy lives in Filly." One of the men states, concern in his voice. 

"Well, not no more he don't. Unless he's a coward." Cooper said.

"Don't take the bait, son." Sorrel interrupted as the man cocked his gun at the ghoul.

"Oh, I ain't fishin'. I'm just trying to game this out. Now, in my experience, the apple tends not to fall too far from the tree. Is that true in your case?" Cooper asked.

"My daddy ain't no coward." The man was fuming as his gun stayed pointed at Cooper. 

"Well, then I guess the only question is..." Cooper smirked, "Are you?"

"Sherrif Rex. Take Sherrif Troy's gun away." Sorrel said, clearly unamused at the situation.

"Very presidential of ya." Cooper mused.

"Take him out back and feed him to the hogs," Booker said, done with Cooper's antics.

Sherrif Rex pulled Cooper to his feet, but before I could protest, Cooper headbutted Sherrif Troy before stealing Rex's gun. The next thing I knew both men were dead on the ground as he shot them repeatedly. 

"Goddamn it." Booker sighed.

"You really should teach your men how to treat a lady," Cooper explained. "They weren't very nice, were they darlin'?"

I gave him a small smile, "No Coop, they weren't."

He hummed as he stalked across the room. "I got one question for ya ol' buddy," Cooper said, turning his attention back to Sorrel. "Why... do you have this picture on your wall?" He asked, pulling down one of the wanted posters.

"That's Moldaver." Sorrel responded, a look of confusion on his face, "Why?"

Cooper's face betrayed him as shock washed over his face before he regained his composure. "It's just not how I remember her is all," Cooper mumbled. 

"Yea? Well, how do you remember her?" Sorrel asked.

Cooper stared silently at the poster for a while, lost in thought while Sorrel and I exchanged awkward glances. 

"Cooper?" I asked him, worry settling into my stomach. This seemed to catch his attention as he brought his eyes up to me. 

"Let's go, sugar." He said as he folded the paper before stuffing it in his bag. He reached his hand out to me, silently asking me to take it. 

I quickly grabbed his hand, eager to get out of this place. "What about him?" I ask.

"The president?" He asked, mocking Sorrel, "Leave him."

I held on to Cooper's hand tightly as he confidently strolled out of the building. Who was this woman? And what was she to Cooper?

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[kayhi808]

They Met in Delacroix

Masterlist

You had followed a man down to New Orleans, thinking he'd be the love of your life and you'd have a future together, only to have him break up with you. You didn't have family to turn to, so now you're by yourself trying to make someplace feel like home.

You met Sarah through the restaurant you worked at. Sarah owned a commercial fishing boat, so she'd sell fresh seafood to the restaurant. You didn't have many friends. Your ex was very possessive & controlling. He kept you isolated, so when he dumped you, you were really set adrift with nothing & no one.

Stopping off at the table you were folding napkins at, "Are you working this Saturday?"

Shaking your head, "No, I'm on Sunday this week."

"Good, my big brother will be in town for a couple weeks and I'm having a cookout. Come by the house."

"Oh, I don't kn..."

"I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. What else do you have planned?" Standing there with her hands on her hips but with the sweetest & most understanding smile. "Come early & spend the day. The boys miss you." She squeezes your arm on the way out.

And that is how you find yourself in Delacroix, driving down the road to a house by the river. The wind blowing through your hair from the open window of your truck that has seen better days. You really need to get your air condition fixed, but that's another expense you can't afford right now. As you pull up to the house, your nerves get the better of you. You wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt. You didn't quite know what to wear. You picked a long boho dress. You felt cute in it. You grab your dessert and slam the door to the truck.

"Y/N!!" Sarah's youngest, AJ, runs towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Quickly followed by Cass, the oldest. You wrap your free arm around the both of them the best you can, dropping kisses on them. Her boys were the sweetest. "What did you bring us?"

"AJ, where are your manners?" Sarah materializes, taking the box from your hands, giving it to AJ to put it the house. "I told you to just bring yourself," wrapping you in a big hug.

"I made cheesecake. It's needs the fridge." Sarah tells AJ to put it in the fridge & he nods while running back to the house. Returning her hug, "Thank you so much for inviting me."

"Of course! Come, let me introduce you to my brother." You turn the corner of the house, "Sam, this is Y/N. My brother Sam & his friend, Bucky over there." You give a small wave.

"So you're the one I've heard so much about lately," before engulfing you in a warm hug that makes you blush. This was such an affectionate family. "I think my nephews are fighting over who gets to marry you."

"Uncle Sam! Stop! Don't...God!" Cass & AJ scream immediately. Cass tries to bean him with a football which Sam easily catches, but that didn't stop Bucky from going to your side with his hand out protecting in case the ball came your way. He looks down at you with eyes as blue as the Louisiana sky, "I'm Bucky."

"Hi, Y/N." The tall handsome brunette leaves you breathless. "I...I'm going to see if Sarah needs my help." You walk towards Sarah who's trying to stop a fight between the boys & their Uncle. You look over your shoulder at Bucky & he gives you a smile when he catches you.

******

The morning flew by in a whirlwind of activity. By the looks of it, the entire town of Delacroix will be there. All 116 townspeople. I mean, Captain America & the Winter Soldier are HERE. Who wouldn't want to meet them?

When people started to arrive it got overwhelming. Not in a bad way. Everyone was having a great time. People were so warm & welcoming towards you. It was a lot though. The loud music, laughter, kids yelling & chasing each other around. It was a great party. It just left you out of sorts.

Thinking to escape for a bit, you went to your truck only to find it blocked in by a couple dozen other vehicles. You end up dropping the tailgate to sit on. You needed a little bit of solitude to recharge your social battery. You lay back in the truck bed, legs swinging over the side, listening to the music from a distance.

"Are you alright?" You hear his soft baritone & you prop yourself up on your elbows. It's Bucky.

"I'm fine. Just needed a lil break."

"Mind if I join you? It gets to be...A LOT, " nodding back at the house. You shake your head and shrug as he hops up onto the tailgate & lays back on the other side of the truck, closing his eyes. You go back to doing the same. "This is nice." There's a peaceful silence. You were in the in-between of falling asleep and being awake. "When should we be heading back?"

You turn to him, "When we feel recharged or when we smell food."

He opens his eyes and smiles at you, "Food?"

"I'm hungry. They've got such good food there. I'm still not used to the amazing food down here."

"You're not Louisiana, born & raised?"

"No sir, I'm from all the way out West, California."

"How'd you end up here?"

You turn away & close your eyes, "Bad life choices."

"We've all made a few of those."

You look at him, "I'm sorry."

He gives you a sad smile, 'I'm sorry, too."

"I think I smell ribs." Bucky chuckles. "I'm positive I smell ribs." You sit up & hop off the truck. "Ready to head back?" You hold out your hand to help pull him up. He groans but hops off the truck & closes the tailgate for you. You run around to the front to grab a sweater from the front seat.

You head back to the party when you hear, "And where have you two been??" You gasp as Sam walks over frowning, looking all parental.

"Shut up, man."

"I...Bucky just walked me back to the truck so I could get my sweater." Holding up your cardigan.

"You don't need to explain yourself to him." Sam starts laughing as you hurry yourself away. "Why do you have to be such a jackass?"

"AJ & Cass are going to beat you up! You got some stiff competition for her."

"All I did was walk her to her truck."

"MmmHmmm"

******

After dinner, the guys moved the tables to make way for dancing. You had a blanket spread out on the side where you sat and watched everyone. Even the little kids paired up and we're dancing. They were so entertaining. You haven't laughed this hard in a long time.

A slower song started up and you see Bucky headed your way. Butterflies started circling your belly. He has such a sweet smile on his face.

"Hey, Y/N?" Cass comes running up to you, cutting Bucky off. "Would you dance with me?" Your eyes quickly dart to Bucky and you see his glare which makes you giggle. "Cass, I'd love to dance with you." You take his hand and he practically jerks you off the blanket which makes you laugh harder. With your hand in his Cass runs you out onto the dance floor. You hurry past Bucky and you swear you heard him growl.

Since you danced with Cass you had to dance with AJ next, but he got distracted and left you on the dancefloor to run off with his friends. "The nerve of some people." You spin around at the sound of Bucky's voice. You look up at his smiling face. He steps up to you, taking your hand in his, his other hand, lightly at the small of your back. "Finally, my dance." And every dance after that was his.

[velvateen]

pierced (zoro x reader)

zoro gives you your third ear piercings

mention of needles, no other warnings, fluff ⭐️

“I’ll only hurt if you aren’t nervous, and by the looks of you, you won’t feel a thing,” Zoro stated, muttering the last bit under his breath.

“I’m only nervous because it's you and we’re not someplace professional,” you replied.

“Don’t be such a baby, I’ve done all three of mine myself and they turned out perfectly fine.” He wet a cloth with some rubbing alcohol and pressed it to your ear, the coolness making you pull in a sharp breath.

If it was just your first or even second ear piercings, you might not have been so nervous, but the third one up was a little daunting, but you trusted Zoro, so it would probably be fine. After cleaning your ears, he handed you a pen and a hand mirror and gave you time to choose where the piercing should go.

He watched as your tongue peaked out as you focused on your ears, admiring the vision in his head of you wearing more jewelry to frame your features. You turned back to him after giving the dots you drew a once over.

“What are you smiling about,” you asked. His ears turned red as he turned away, back to where the needle and earrings sat.

“Nothing, hurry up, you’re taking forever.” You smiled and set the mirror down. He started showing you what he was gonna use. Ice, for numbing, a needle that looked way too big in your opinion, and an eraser.

“What’s the eraser for?”

“For the needle when it goes though.” He brought the stud over, handing it to you while he situated the needle and held it near your ear.

“I’m gonna count to three, and while I do that, take a really deep breath for me, okay?” His eyes met yours and you tried to slow your nervous heartbeat down. It was gonna be okay, it was Zoro after all. Without the thought of the impending piercing, the heat of his hand pressing against your cheek and his face so close to yours would’ve been distraction enough.

“Okay, ready?” he asked. You tucked your hair behind your ears and prepared for the sting. “Yeah.”

“One,” you began to breathe in as he continued,“two--”

“You jerk!” you winced as he pierced you before the count was over, handing him the stud. He quickly put it in your ear.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he chuckled, handing you the other stud.

“It wasn’t but only because you caught me off guard with that ‘one, two, three’ shit.” He laughed at your mock frustration.

“At least you know I can’t pull the same stunt twice, you’d be prepared for it,” he leaned to line the needle up.

“Whatever, let’s get this one over with.”

“So bossy,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, “I’m gonna count to three again, you ready?” You nodded and took a deep breath.

“One, two,” your face contorted in anticipation, but before he reached the final count, you felt a swift kiss pressed onto the corner of your mouth. Before you could react, he pushed the needle through and tacked onto the eraser. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips as he carefully set your earring in.

“You play dirty!” A smile crossed his face as he started wiping your new piercings with a cleaner.

“I had to give you some kind of distraction, didn’t I, I bet you didn’t even feel a thing.” You smiled and picked up the mirror to admire your new set.

“It looks so good!” You were too busy admiring his handiwork to notice him digging through the supplies he brought.

“I know you’ll have to wait until it heals up,” he fished out a small box from his bag and pressed it into your palm, “but I bought these for you.” He turned away, a little embarrassed at the sentiment. You opened the box, and poured its contents into your hands. He had bought you three earrings to match his own.

“Zoro,” you sighed, “thank you.” You looked at his face, still bashfully turned away, his red ears giving him away like they always do. Bringing your hand up to cup his jaw and turn him to face you, you pushed his cheeks together.

“Now who’s being a baby?”

A/N extremely self indulgent, wrote this the day before i got my third ear piercings. those mfrs hurt so bad but it’s gonna be so worth it to match with zoro. bye! •.*

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

yo i hope your requests are open?

could i have a chubby reader with her stepdad’s friends who all want her? like she’s in college and they’re offering to cover her, they take her clothes shopping, etc

thanks <3

Been stewing on this for a bit—

CW: chubby fem reader, older men, smut

───────────────

Alright alright, let's set the scene

Your parent gets remarried while you're at college, and you're fine with that. You've known your new stepdad since he started dating your parent in high school, he's a real stand-up guy and you respect each other. He's been nothing but kind to you and always given you space and freedom.

You don't even meet his friends until you come back from college one summer break.

They're all around his age, 30s and 40s, older than you by a decade or more. You don't meet them until your stepdad hosts a barbeque. Your parents insist that you attend, so you do, suspecting you'll have to answer lots of questions from your older neighbors. You wear a cute two piece outfit, a floral off the shoulder top and a solid colored tennis skirt. You don't think much of it, but you realize during the party that you probably should've worn something more conservative.

Your stepdad's friends? Oh, they're lewd. They're not normally like this, but something about seeing your soft plush curves on display has them itching to get their hands on you. They grab some beers and crowd around you, asking about college, if you're having fun, if you have a boyfriend. You're polite, but you can feel them staring at every inch of you, peeking down your crop top and at your exposed belly. You're not used to this type of attention, so you just assume they're trying to be nice, to humor you with their stares.

Oh, if only you knew what they were thinking. If only you knew that while they were standing beside your stepdad at the grill, all they could focus on was how you bent over to grab a drink out of the cooler, your skirt riding up your thighs. They imagined flipping up your skirt and finding soaked panties underneath, ripping off the flimsy fabric and slipping their cock into your wet heat. They couldn't stop imagining how your chubby pussy lips would cling to their cock, the base covered in creamy cum as you spasmed around them, your moans high pitched and whiny. Several of them had to excuse themselves to the bathroom to calm down, but it barely worked since all they'd do when they came back was stare at you. They're disappointed when you eventually leave the barbeque and escape to your room, but they know they'll see you again.

Not even a week later, they're over at your house watching a game with your stepdad. You're roaming around the house in an oversized shirt and boxers, and these men are practically salivating at the sight of you. They fantasize that you're wearing their clothes after a lovely night of sex. They talk to you when you come downstairs for a snack, meeting you in the kitchen to "grab another beer", asking you what you're up to on your day off. You're polite and humor their questions, trying to ignore the subtle flexing of their muscles. You think nothing of their attention, soon teetering off to your room again to watch TV, much to their disappointment. They wish you could sit on their lap while they watch TV, hands roaming your plump frame while they nurse a beer. Perhaps another time.

They keep showing up at your house over the summer, usually on the weekend. They're always so nice to you, giving you all their attention when you enter the room. And they even start helping you out! When your car broke down and you had to go to work, one of them drove you to your job while the others stayed behind and fixed your vehicle. When you wanted to go shopping and didn't have anyone to go with, they took you to some plus-size friendly shops and even paid for your clothes. When your date stood you up and left you all alone, gussied up with nowhere to go, they practically fought each other for the chance to take you someplace nice (ultimately, they ended up just cooking for you at home and watching a movie after).

It's safe to say that they're all head over heels for you. They're all single, either never been married or divorced, but they wanna change that. They want to have a pretty lil thing like you by their side, hanging onto them, letting them spoil you. They wanna fuck you senseless, in every position you can imagine, in the bedroom, living room, shower, even the kitchen. They want to worship you the way you deserve, and they jerk off almost nightly to the thought of you.

Imagine their disappointment when the summer ends and you have to go back to school. They see you off, helping load your things into your car. They each give you their number in case of emergency and your parents aren't available, but they hope it could lead to more. They sadly watch you drive away, feeling their hearts break as your car disappears. They go home gloomy and depressed, already missing their plump ball of sunshine.

Imagine their joy when you text them that night and say that you miss them.

───────────────

[arpmemething2]

Batman the Animated Series sentence starters

Send one for my muse’s reaction.  Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

"All right, scum bucket, it's you, me, and thirty stories. You're gonna tell me exactly what I want to know."

"That's one way to remove a splinter."

"I have this natural immunity against poisons, toxins, the pain and suffering of others. Go figure."

"I failed you. I wish there were another way for me to say it. I cannot. I can only beg your forgiveness, and pray you hear me somehow, someplace... someplace where a warm hand waits for mine."

"Last time we met, you tried to throw me off a building."

"If you think I've been bad news before..."

"Old and infirm as you are, I'd trade a thousand of my frozen years for your worst day."

"What kind of a saboteur uses a six-thousand dollar Metronex to set a time bomb?"

"I never counted on being happy."

"A strong mind can fuel a frail body."

"I need a new car."

"There's no way you could have escaped from that explosion! How did you get out?"

"I'm gettin' too old for this."

"I suppose what they say is true: society is to blame. High society."

"Succumb to the fear!"

"Gee, it's amazing the things you find in people's glove compartments."

"Children and guns do not mix. Ever."

"I'm having a BAD DAY! I'm sick of people trying to shoot me, run me over or blow me up!"

"They're not stupid, and it's your party."

"Aren't they just the cutest family you've ever seen?"

"It's midnight darling, time to unmask."

"It's gonna be one of those nights."

"When you look too long into the abyss, the abyss looks back through you."

"If you're so smart, why aren't you rich?"

"You've got to admit there's something between us."

"There's always time to heal."

"I didn't realize you'd taken up listening to rock and roll."

"Choosing a weekend date?"

"I don't believe in fate."

"An entire city screaming in fear. I wonder if we'll be able to hear it."

"Some thought I'd gone mad. Others thought I always had been. And so they put me where they thought I belonged."

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no tales."

"This city would fall apart without you!"

"I love that trick but I can never make it work."

"Taking up video games, are we?"

"I hate it when he does that."

"You are strong... but not strong enough!"

"They don't make straight jackets like they used to. I should know."

"He's not samurai. He's NINJA. They're spies and assassins. Their only code is to get the job done."

"A pixel is worth a thousand words."

"I am vengeance! I am the night!!"

"And who says opera has to be boring?"

"He always knew how to make an exit."

"Hey! Do I hit your kids? Oh, actually I do..."

"Now boys, didn't your mommies teach you that's not the way to get a lady's attention?"

"Not the robot theory again."

"Freeze, maggots! You're all under arrest!"

"You said you'd never let me go home!"

"What was she before she went bonkers?"

"This used to be a beautiful street. Good people lived here once."

"'Tis better to have loved and lost, and made a small profit, than never to have loved at all!"

"Chance is everything. Whether you're born or not, whether you live or die, whether you're good or bad. It's all arbitrary."

"But you've forgotten the first rule of comedy: if you have to explain the joke... THEN IT ISN'T FUNNY!"

"I told you not to speak!"

"Coming through! Hot stuff!"

"The snow is beautiful, don't you think? Clean, uncompromising..."

"When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping."

"What a pleasant surprise. Though I should warn you - breaking and entering is against the law."

"This could cause a stampede to pork."

"You really know how to put the fun in funeral."

"You ought to put your toys away."

"Would not, could not... would not, could not... oh, could not join the dance."

"Home. I never thought that could sound so good."

"Then I'll see you in your nightmares!"

"As the Bard said, "the fault lies not in our stars, but in ourselves.""

"You know what I'd have given for a death scene like this. Too bad I won't get to read the notices."

"He's a little protective of all this. I think he likes bats better than people."

"All your power and money has bought you an empire of misery."

"Don't try this at home kids!"

"I feel ill."

"Well, that was fun! Now, who's for Chinese?"

"You're about to fall out of orbit."

"Why can't he ever stay dead?"

"They can bury me in the ground, as deep as they like. But I'll grow back. We always grow back. Don't we, baby?"

"All men have something to hide. The brighter the picture, the darker the negative."

"You thought I was just another bubble-headed blond bimbo! Well, the joke's on you, 'cause I'm not even a real blonde."

"When the wage slaves start acting like they own the place, it's time to pull the plug."

"I've been known to be foolish, but ain't nobody calls me a liar and goes to bed happy."

"Since you don't like my side-splitters, how 'bout a skull-splitter?"

"This is kidnapping, mister! Last time I checked, it was highly illegal!"

[cq-studios]

I’m actually obsessed with the idea of Brain just ending up in Scala and having to learn about how to use the new tech (just like he had to figure out MoM’s computer), and I was bored so I wrote a little snippet of him sneaking into a kitchen (and away from Sigurd) and figuring out appliances lol

Brain entered what turned out to be the kitchen. It was cramped, at least compared to the one in the Clocktower. Hardly enough space for more than, maybe 4 people. It had a very distinct smell, not necessarily a bad one, but a strong one. This confused him considering it was alarmingly clean.

There was a counter running along the wall, strangely made of some sort of stone instead of the wood he’d expect. He couldn’t see a stove, which was strange, but even stranger was the contraption on the counter— four little metal prongs supposedly to hold something up and some knobs along the edge. At the end of the counters was an unusual cupboard also made out of metal for whatever reason. It was out of place even compared to the other cupboards in the room, which were made from a purple wood reminiscent of home.

Curiosity piqued, he walked over to investigate, the counter contraption first on his list.

He seemed to be right about the metal prongs being used to hold something. Each of them stuck out above a circular dip, which had a slightly raised cylinder in the middle, rife with tiny holes. That most likely had something to do with the knobs so he twisted one, as a test.

It took a moment but a familiar sharp smell brushed his nose. It was the same scent that came right before an explosive spell. Panic lighting up inside him, he twisted the knob back to its original position, using a swift aero spell to disperse the gas. Why would they even have that?!

Unless…

On a technical level, explosion spells were really just out of control fire spells, and it took a bit for there to be enough gas for him to smell it, so even if fire spells don’t have that smell, they must use that same gas, and if that’s the case then maybe…

He tried the knob again, only slightly twisting it this time, and shot a small fire spell at the dip underneath the prongs. The cylinder in the centre caught, controlled, consistent flames spitting out of each of the holes.

He was right, this was a stove then, just a very weird looking one.

With that mystery solved, he turned the stove off and moved on and over to the metal cupboard.

It was a similar purple to the wooden cupboards with a silver handle and as he got closer he noticed it was letting out a low hum. Interesting.

He opened the cupboard and was greeted by a variety of raw meat, some drinks, and a waft of cold air. This was a refrigerator then? He closed the door, stopping any more of the chill from escaping and gave the outside of the fridge a quick scan for the ice compartment. There wasn’t one.

Then where did the ice go in? Where did they cast blizzard?

Had they figured out a way to imbue the fridge with magic so they wouldn’t need to refill it? He couldn’t say he’d blame them if they had. It was a horrible feeling, losing all your food because it slipped your mind.

But if they had, how? He supposed he’d never really tried to imbue an object with elemental magic before. They were generally one off, quick firing spells. He just assumed it wouldn’t last long enough to work, not unless you changed the whole base of the spell. Which he thought might do it, if they could break down the magic enough to isolate the properties then combine-

“Oh, there you are,” an exasperated mutter came from the doorway, “Master Brain, you really should tell me if you’re ever going someplace”.

[ivanttakethis]

End of Round 29 - Tov’s Log

Tov (50) vs. Jae (49) -> Tov Win

————————————————————

Tov only saw the final scores for a fraction of second before the lights cut out.

50 - 49

She won.

Barely.

Again.

Emergency sirens blared to life.

The crowd, consumed by the darkness, began to panic.

Two guards rushed the stage, barreling past Tov and snatching Jae up by both his arms.

One of her heels snagged in a groove on the stage and she stumbled back, but someone caught her before she could fall and a gloved hand took hold of her arm.

She flinched at the unwanted contact, trying to pull away.

“Tov, we need to go. Now.”

Familiarity prickled at the back of Tov’s mind. She stopped struggling.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could make out a medic patch faintly glowing on the guard’s sleeve.

Elias?

She bit her tongue to keep from saying his name aloud, drawing blood.

Another guard took Tov’s other arm and quickly led her off stage. They were shorter than Elias, with a smaller build.

The slope of their shoulders was a dead giveaway.

Prem.

“What’s going on?” She shouted over the ensuing chaos.

“Not sure yet, but we need to secure your safety first.” Prem said, cutting through the throngs of frightened backstage staff.

He ushered her and Elias to a door that led into a stairwell. The same stairwell Tov had used to get to Himei and Tallis before their rounds.

How long ago was that?

She shook free of her thoughts, forcing herself to stay in the present as they exited the stairwell into the tunnels.

It was quieter underground, the wailing of the sirens above them muffled by the thick layers of concrete.

After a few turns left and right, the number of aliens the trio passed grew fewer and fewer, until they turned onto an empty hallway that deadened.

Prem stopped and looked over his shoulder behind them before locking the set of doors they just came through.

“Okay, I think we’re far enough away now.” He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. “Find any new info, Eli?”

Tov turned to Elias, who was tapping away at a device with a small screen attached to his left sleeve.

“The alarms going off are meant for intruders, but I don’t see any alerts about security breaches.” Elias said, removing his helmet. “Something’s off about this whole thing. I don’t like it.”

“Whatever it is, we should be safe here.”

Prem pulled off his helmet in turn and shook his curly hair loose.

It was Tov’s first time seeing what he looked like.

He was a bit paler than her and Elias, dark hair and dark eyes, with a scar running from the bottom of his right eye to his chin. It looked old and somewhat faded, likely from his childhood.

Based on his youthful appearance, she guessed he was closer in age to Nyx than he was to her.

Prem noticed Tov’s assessment of him and flushed at the tips of his ears, “Oh, yeah, I guess we haven’t really met before.” He let out an awkward chuckle before extending a hand to her. “I’m Prem, Elias’s junior.”

“Nice to meet you, officially.” She said, shaking his outstretched hand in the formal manner Cassio taught her. “I assume you also know my benefactor?”

“Yep! Not as well as Eli, since I’m younger, but I know them all the same. I offered to help out with delivering the messages.”

If Prem also knows this person, they’d have to be rather young, right? Maybe around my age?

But how would they know Alien Stage guard medics?

Are they a medic too? Or perhaps another guard?

“Shit.” Elias hissed.

Both Prem and Tov turned to face him as he furiously tapped the screen, his expression pinched.

“What’s wrong?” Prem asked, a slight edge in his voice.

“Subject-010625 escaped.”

Tov inhaled sharply.

Jae escaped?

“What?!” Prem’s voice pitched upwards. “How?”

“The announcement said he was taken by two rogue guards.” Elias said.

“Those must’ve been the guards that rushed the stage.” Tov said. “I thought they were taking him someplace safe like you two did.”

Prem groaned, running his hands down his face. “I thought so too.”

“It’s being reported that the guards are highly violent. They think it’s the same pair that took Subject-010420 after Round 11.”

Evon?

The room started to spin.

Tov stumbled over to a wall to brace herself.

“Evon is still alive?” She asked faintly. “She escaped too?”

There was a pressure building in her chest.

Something wanted out.

Elias nodded. “Yes, we believe that’s the case.”

A loud bark of laughter punched its way out of Tov’s diaphragm and echoed off the concrete walls, startling the two guards and herself.

Before she could open her mouth to explain or express concern, a stream of thready, hysterical giggles bubbled up from her chest and strangled the words halfway up her throat.

Tov laughed until her sides hurt, until she couldn’t breathe, until tears blurred her vision and the laughing became crying.

She sunk to the floor on weak knees, doubled over from the emotional overstimulation.

Relief. Joy. Envy. Anger. Grief. Sadness.

All caught in a swirling storm racking her blood and bones.

Tov expected questions.

What’s wrong? Are you alright? How can we help?

She didn’t have any answers.

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

But the questions never came.

Instead, strong but gentle hands guided her to rest her back against the wall.

Elias sat down next to her on her left and Prem sat down on her right.

Neither said anything as she struggled to pull herself together.

The sirens continued to blare in the distance.

Tov felt wrung out.

Her head was too heavy to hold up on her own, so she leaned over to let it rest on Elias’s shoulder.

He didn’t seem to mind.

Prem handed her a tissue from his side pocket kit.

She wiped her nose as best she could.

A few more moments passed in silence before Tov spoke.

“What now?” She asked, her voice thick.

“Now, we wait.” Elias said. “It’ll all be over before you know it.”

As Tov closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, she couldn’t help but think he meant more than just the lockdown.

————————————————————

Tov won and Jae escaped!! Everything should be good now, right?

… Right?

Well, Tov has some complicated feelings about it. She’s relieved Jae escaped and that Evon is alive because she really doesn’t want anyone else to die.

But part of her is almost envious that they were saved when so many others weren’t, including some of the people Tov was closest to (Himei, Moran, Flor, etc.). She’s also angry that any of them had to be in this position to die like this in the first place.

At least Elias and Prem were there to comfort her. I think Tov would’ve spiraled even worse if they didn’t stay with her. I lobe my boys 🥹

Jae and Evon belong to @kofeedoggo.

Nyx belongs to @rockwgooglyeyes.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Evening Quiet

A Curtis x Honey Drabble.

1.5k What makes a house a home? The people.

Warnings- mention of sexual activity.

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

Yes you were glad to be home. 

Vacationing was always nice, getting away to see someplace new was always exciting. Florida proved to be just what was needed to battle the winter chill with its sandy beaches and endless amounts of sunshine that for you and Curtis seemed a blessing. 

After battling the freezing ice and snow of Duluth, Florida’s weather seemed like summertime to the two of you. 

There were nights of firepit and beers in the backyard, lazing around on a yacht that Frank was currently working on, some shopping to be had, and the food, you were greatly missing the taco truck right about now. 

But all that said, you were glad to be home. Right now home wasn’t your third-floor apartment in downtown Duluth. It was curled up on Curtis' couch, watching a television documentary about a haunted house in Pennsylvania where the ghost team started talking about the history associated with the residence. Outside, big heavy flakes slammed against the window like they were trying to escape the cold too, but the clear glass on the picture window was keeping you and Curtis safe. 

Wrapped around your legs was the afghan off the back of the couch, Curtis’s hand was resting on the curve of your waist, his fingertips lightly grazing the bit of skin peeping from your pajamas you had spent most of the day wearing and nearby the small wood stove he used for the first floor chill was popping once in a while as the wood provided them with sleep inducing warmth. 

Your head was laid down on his thigh, the very motion of his fingers and the warmth under the blanket making your eyes slip close once in a while in complete blissful calm. 

It was settling in the way that this felt like where you were supposed to be at the end of your day. You didn’t even realize that the simple motion of letting your eyes close and give in to that feeling would make your breathing grow heavier and you completely lost track of the show. 

Curtis noticed though, because that last bit of tension seeped from you and finally you let yourself sink into his lap. He could feel the warmth of your breath’s sink into the fabric of his black jeans while sleep seemed to sneak up on you. 

He couldn’t resist letting his fingers slip further down, without any intentions other than to rub at your hip, the soothing sensation making you stretch a bit in a moan at the comforting touch he provided. His gaze stayed on the tv for the most part, being interested in the findings and history of the old homestead that actually reminded him of his own home. 

He wondered where his house's ghosts were wandering around tonight. He had heard a few creaks earlier on the stairs, which might be from the cold snapping the house's old bones outside, but it was easier to let himself think it was Wilford and Lillian appreciating what he was doing with their loved home. 

It certainly has all come back to life since you came into the picture. His weekends no longer consisted of him all alone, but you were there with your endless amounts of sewing projects and script rewrites for your drama club, working on your next science-themed project for your classroom, the scattering of your books from the living room to the upstairs nightstand where you never seemed to bring them home to finish reading and he never mentioned it simply because he liked to read them too before going to sleep. His little Honey had some erotic reading tastes that he fully intended to use on you. 

Like the recent chapter, he read the other night while you were back at your apartment gave a very detailed description of using paints in foreplay. He chuckled softly to himself imagining the painting the two of you would make, hung up for no one to know. 

His amusement with his thoughts must have woken you, cause you stirred just a bit, shifting to roll to your back and look up at him, blinking sleepily at him for a moment. “What’s funny?” 

“Oh, just thinking about how good you would look covered in paint while I was having my way with you.” Curtis said matter of factly while watching the ending of the show with his eyes half shut like he was also starting to fall asleep. 

You blinked at him a moment while his gaze drifted almost lazily down to where you were laid on his lap, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes giving away his amusement at the way your face heated up. Your brows twisted for a moment in thought as you clearly recalled reading something very similar. “Did you read my book?” 

A grin cracked on his face with a suggestive arch of his brows that said he clearly did and you gasped when he swooped down to steal a kiss from you. “Honey, you want me to kiss and tell?” 

You gave a teasing little snort as you went cross eyed staring up at him. “They are for educational purposes.” 

Curtis straightened back to a sit, his fingers dancing along your neck and massaging into your hair at the base of your scalp, it felt so good that you let yourself get slightly distracted by it. “Oh I know you are getting quite the education from it. I can’t wait to reap the benefits.” 

You again felt your face heating up, knowing exactly what things he read in your books. All the kinky little smut fests that had supposed plot lines leading up to all of them. Your hands covered your face with a groan, peeking up between your fingers. “You weren’t supposed to learn my dirty secret.” 

Curtis clicked the tv off, his features turning thoughtful at your words. “Why is that, were they something you didn’t want me to see Honey?” 

“No, no, I don’t care. I’m just shocked you even took an interest in my pile.” You gave a little shrug while giving a yawn and cuddling in closer, enjoying the quiet of the wood crackling in the nearby stove and the snow gently hitting on the glass. “But…” You went a bit quiet, trying to sort through the masquerade of feelings it brought up in you that Curtis wasn’t making some snide remark about your ‘porn’. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it if he was mentally filing away scenes from it. Curtis as usual was patient, not rushing you to spit out what you were trying to say. “I like that you saw them and you’re okay with them?” 

Curtis already knew what was on your mind, you had questioned him a few times about things that he honestly never would have thought about. That your ex was such a controlling asshole to you that you still worried about him actually being mad if you did something you thought he wouldn’t care for. His features softened towards you. “Honey, I am always going to be okay with whatever you choose to read and want you to. You don’t ever have to hide them from me. It’s like the toys, I encourage it.” 

Any apprehension seemed to melt away when you got that confirmation from him, moving to ease yourself up. Curtis's arms shot up in a stretch while giving a yawn. “But tonight, I’m crashing early so no smut reading for me. Gotta do snow cleanup before leaving for the yard in the morning.” 

Your hand reached out for his, helping him off the couch. “Meet you upstairs?” 

“Go on up, I'm just gonna tend this fire and make sure the house is closed up for the night.” He tugged you in close for a second to steal a kiss and then released you towards the stairs. 

As you started up the old creaky stairs, with the various pieces of artwork and old photographs of his family hanging along the hallway leading towards Curtis’s bedroom, your pile of sewing materials piled on the bottom step amid some of Curtis's clothes that needed patching, to the kitchen where you could hear Curtis opening the cupboard above the stove that held all your teas and honey, out of the corner of your eye you saw the cover of one of your books on the coffee table your boyfriend takes sneak peeks at as well as his reading glasses perched atop of the cover, this old house with its stories that you were starting to become a part of and the man who would follow right behind you because he always tried to do what he said he was going to do, these things were starting to feel like home more then that drafty old apartment you had crashed landed in after you restart your life to get away from your ex. 

This was becoming where your heart belonged.

[idjits-areus]

Okay, hear me out. Loki is just an alternate version of Gabriel that he made when he went into hiding trying to separate himself as much as he could from Heaven.

So we have two versions of the same person here:

Gabriel the Archangel

Loki the Norse Pagan God

But why create this whole new persona in the first place?

Heaven was a mess. God left. Michael and Lucifer were constantly at each other's throats. Nobody was doing anything about it and Gabriel hated all the fighting, so he left. He was done with Heaven.

So, he went and found his bloodline on Earth. He convinced the person to let Gabriel take a vial of their blood to be used for a vessel. And they agreed. Which means that Gabriel has his own vessel that was never occupied by a living soul. Which also means that Heaven can't track him, if they even decided to go looking for him (which seeing as how Castiel thought that he was dead I highly doubt that was high on the priority list).

He wandered around earth for a few years after that trying to find someplace where the angels wouldn't go looking for him. It takes a little bit before he stumbles upon some Norse gods up in Norway. This is long before the Vikings were even worshiping them. He quickly makes friends with them and the gods take Gabriel to Odin.

Odin is cautious at first when meeting Gabriel, which is reasonable because why would an archangel want to leave Heaven? It takes a lot of convincing from Gabriel that he just wants to leave Heaven behind and start something new before Odin finally accepts Gabriel's proposal to join the Norse gods.

In order for Gabriel to have that pagan god aura about him that the other pagan gods have, he had to become “blood brothers” with Odin. It's kinda like a power share. Gabriel got some of Odin's pagan god abilities and Odin got just a smidge of archangelic grace. Not too much though. Gabriel didn't want to kill the only person that could offer him an escape.

With these new abilities and pagan god status, he had to come up with a new image. He chose Loki. The god of mischief and chaos.

And so he went into hiding with the Norse gods. He turned his Gabriel version off so that the Loki version could take over. He mainly used pagan magic, but there were times where he used his grace. He essentially cut all ties with Heaven. It was a whole lot easier to become someone new then be the old person with all the Heavenly baggage that followed him.

So how did Gabriel become the main version again?

Easy. Tall Tales starts it.

When Sam and Dean hunted him down in Tall Tales, Loki immediately knew who they were. Him and Gabriel might be different versions of the same person, but no matter which version, he can never forget the reason why he left Heaven in the first place. He also can't help but notice Sam. How he's running too, whether that's noticable to anyone else or not. He can't help but latch on, which is a problem when the whole point of becoming Loki was to not be involved with Heaven anymore. Luckily though, Loki managed to make it through the whole ordeal without causing Gabriel to pop back up.

Then Mystery Spot happened. Loki, knowing full well who they are, couldn't help but mess with them. Especially since he learned that Dean made a deal and is headed downstairs before the end of the year. Part of him wants to be near Sam while the other part just wants to kill Dean multiple times without any repercussions. Obviously Sam finds out what's going on and Loki gets pinned to a fence, which he doesn't mind on bit, but being that close to Lucifer's vessel causes a bit of Gabriel to pop up. If it was just Loki, he would've stopped the loop then and there. But because part of Gabriel popped back up, the loop kept going for just a few more deaths. He wanted to let a little bit of his anger out on his brothers and what better way to do it then mess with their vessels.

Now Changing Channels happens. Between Mystery Spot and Changing Channels, Loki got pushed into the background and Gabriel is now back into world and he's tired. He's basically blaming himself for allowing two humans to reverse centuries of hiding and repressing. And for allowing himself to get too close to Sam because that's what evidently brought him back out.

Gabriel's heard rumors that Sam and Dean are refusing to say "yes" to Lucifer and Michael. He just wants the fighting to stop. It's been going on for centuries and Gabriel's decided that he needs to get them to understand that they must say "yes." That's why he traps them in tv land. Loki wanted to have a little fun and Gabriel obliged. And as you know, by the end of it Sam and Dean trap him in a ring of holy fire. This is where Loki really gets buried and Gabriel thrives. Gabriel's out and he's telling them off. Trying, basically pleading them to just play their parts so the fighting would stop.

He realizes his mistake in between Changing Channels and Hammer of the Gods. He went about it all wrong and he wants to apologize to Sam and Dean. Mainly Sam. He tries to make it up to them by being half Loki/half Gabriel and fooling not only the Pagan gods at the hotel, but Lucifer himself.

Loki never truly goes away. He's always in the background. He even takes version majority after Hammer of the Gods when he needs to hide from Heaven again, up until the Asmodesus deal that gets him unwillingly stuck in Hell.

Yes, I know this contradicts the canon story in 13x18 | Bring 'em Back Alive and 13x20 | Unfinished Business. It's my headcanon though. I have a lot of contradictory headcanons both because of it contradicting canon events or just because it contradicts another one of my headcanons.

[duchess-kyuupid]

hello!

Could I request Fem!reader singing Isabella's lullaby to Leona?

Of course sweetie! I loved watching the first season of the Promised Neverland, so I haven't seen the second season to keep my memories of it pure </3... But sorry for the wait, I hope that you enjoy! As always, for those who don't know the song and/or wants to listen while reading, here it is!

~Humming a Lullaby to Leona~

[Fem! Reader, Established relationship, Minor agnst to fluff]

It might sound a bit obvious, but sometimes you just felt like you needed to get away from everything. Away from all of the magic, the overblots, and all the lunatics that all congregate at this school. You never asked to come here, but you'd be lying if you said that you always hated it here. It's just that- sometimes it's all just too much. You want to go home, but what's left for you there anyway? And at the same time, how would the aforementioned lunatics deal with you leaving? They'd all probably overblot again, seeing as how their local 'therapist' would be gone all of a sudden. No, you couldn't leave them, but sometimes you wished that you could. That, at the very least, you could be carried off to someplace where there's just less everything. Where you're not the only female student in an all-boys school, where you're not the only magicless student in a magic academy, where you're not isolated and chastised for being the only one from another world entirely...

So when Crowley has a few too many new expectations of you, when you just can't finish that one magic assignment, when you feel that your brain is about to split in half from Ace and Deuce's bickering- when all of the stress starts to pile up too high, you go to a secluded area on the cliffside in the forests behind the Ramshackle dorm. You felt quite fortunate that the school was located so high up; the view of the expansive ocean was breathtaking at this spot.

This time, you had brought your mandolin with you (courtesy of Sam for finding one for you), and you planned on playing some music to let off some steam.

You climb up and sit down on your usual rock, which was fairly tall, and you begin tuning your instrument as the wind gently caresses your face. You close your eyes and listen to the nature around you- to the sounds of the waves harshly crashing upon the bottom of the cliff, and to the sounds of birds singing in the distance. You open your eyes again, looking out into the sea and thinking, 'If I had wings, like a bird, could I fly across that ocean?'

Your fingers begin strumming on your mandolin automatically as your thoughts continue to wander.

'Or if I was lighter than a feather, could the wind blow me away back home?'

You start to hum and sing softly to the tune that you were playing, letting all of your stress fly away in the gentle ocean breeze. There were no lyrics, just the sound of your voice harmonizing with the hypnotizing way your hands played the instrument.

This was a lullaby your mother sang to you when you were a child, and you always thought it was something beautiful anytime she sang this to you. Only now do you start to realize what she must have been feeling as she sang, because you think that you feel the same.

'If I could only escape from here...'

'But that would just be unrealistic, so I submit myself to this fate, and I will continue to survive as I always have... I will cherish this life I live and of those around me.'

'I just want them to be happy.'

And just like that, your song had finished. It was short and sweet, yet it carried the weight of your emotions away, just as you'd hoped. You take a deep breath and you felt that all of your stress had melted away, and now you were just left with the sounds of the natural world around you- feeling that sort of emptiness that happens when you let out a good cry.

"Oi, herbivore, what's with that song you were playing?" You hear a deep, tired voice suddenly come from behind you. In your shock, you yelp and almost fall off of the rock you were sitting on, and when you manage to catch yourself, you look behind you to see Leona sitting on the grass, leaning against the rock as well.

"Oh! So sorry I didn't see you there, Leona," you chuckle nervously, "Was there something wrong with my song?"

"It woke me up," he huffs as he looks up at you with his bright green eyes, "You always play creepy songs like that?" Creepy doesn't even begin to describe how he felt about the song. If he was being honest, while it is indeed a very beautiful song, he thought it sounded like you just wanted to disappear- that you were wanting to be whisked away in the wind like a fallen leaf with nowhere to go. To him, it sounded like you were crying in the form of a song. And that, no matter how much he may try to deny it, scared him on the inside.

You laugh at his comment, "Does it sound creepy to you? I think it's quite nice actually. But I don't think I could do any justice to the original, though."

"The original?" he hums curiously. You smile and sigh bittersweetly,

"Yeah, the original. My mom sang it to me when I was little... She was really nice.. I miss her."

"Then sing it again."

"Huh?"

"If it reminds you of your home, then go ahead and start singin' again. Don't let me stop you just because I'm tryin' to sleep," he fakes a yawn and closes his eyes again in a way to show you that he was going back to sleep. But with the way that his breathing didn't change, you didn't quite believe that he was actually asleep- even though you know that one of his 'talents' is being able to fall asleep that quickly. You giggle to yourself and turn back around to face the ocean again, saying out loud,

"Well, if the kitty wants a lullaby to go to sleep to, then I have no reason not to deliver."

You could tell that your little nickname got under his skin with the little grumble that you heard coming from him, but since he was trying to fake being asleep, he made no objections to the name.

So you begin strumming on your mandolin once again, with the same tune as before, but when your voice starting humming the song, the change was subtle, but Leona could definitely hear the difference.

You sang as if your voice was meant to comfort him, as if Leona was the one needing relief from all of the stress. And why was it working? Muscles that he didn't even know were tense started to ease, and it felt like the air he was breathing was clearer. Your song didn't sound creepy, nor sad- it sounded like unconditional love and affection. It sounded like hope. Does that make him crazy for thinking that? Probably, but as long as you don't know how soft and sappy he's gotten because of you, it's fine. He can handle being a little vulnerable on the inside, at least.

You had your suspicions about it, but it was true that Leona was only faking being asleep so that he could listen to your voice some more. He wanted to continue to listen to hear that angelic tone sing, and initially he had debated saying anything at all when you finished earlier. But now he's glad that he did, because the way you're singing now sounds much happier than before.

While in the midst of his own thoughts, you finished singing your lullaby once again, and you allow the place to fall into natural silence once again. Turning around to look at Leona, you ask,

"Do you mind if I come sleep next to you? The breeze is getting a bit chilly from up here."

With a moment of reluctance and a small huff, Leona grumbles and scoots to the side without saying a word, patting the patch of grass where he was lying at earlier. You climb down the rock (making sure to be careful with your instrument too) and settle yourself in his old spot, cuddling up to him and sending your hands onto his chest to try to warm them up a little.

"I think that lullaby had the opposite effect," you yawn with a breathless chuckle, "I got myself tired instead of you."

"Don't worry about it, almost anything will make me go to sleep. Including your lullaby," he says.

"Did you like it?"

"Yes, I did," Leona sighs, "Now go ahead and take your nap already."

"Alright," you laugh tiredly, "But just so you know, I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon. Even if I had the chance to go home, I think I'd stay here. I love you too much."

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

What if MC / Yuu originally came from the world of The Promised Neverland and never learned the truth about the orphanage, and Isabella somehow found a way to send her children to different worlds as a way to escape without being caught by the demons. Like there's not really *that* much you can do with that, so I didn't want to fully incorporate it into the story (also as a way to make sure that readers who hasn't seen TPN can also read this too) but I can't deny that I did write this with something like that in mind 👀👀

[rottish-shifting-journey]

Shifting and Humanizing my DR

This is simply something I think will help me realize that shifting and my desired reality itself are real, just as real as where I am now. I suggest reading the tags for sensitivities before continuing!

Significant Times I saw while writing; 4:44

When it comes down to it, in the long run, what I know is that I want a restart or someplace where I can more truly be myself without as many difficulties. And as much as it is for me, I don't want to view it as just an escape to another place. I want to view it as where I truly want to go and that is why I have spent a lot of time undecided about which place to go to. There are so many flaws in so many places that I simply thought it might never work for me and I've realized that's the issue, I've pushed myself into not believing it. No matter how many people I see who have successfully shifted some corner of my subconscious blocking it out and calling it fake, and I need to rewire it. In doing so I'm going to be listing real situations that would or could happen in my realities as a sort of reminder that everyone can shift and that sometimes the mind can be a tricky place.

Think of it as a script and me restating and highlighting what drove me towards that reality, refreshing my mind and rejuvenating my passion for wanting to go. While I am aware of people's experiences in new realities with trauma that mainly is part of my experience of learning life from other perspectives and I in no way undermine it, however, it is up to me what I choose to let happen in my reality.

-

Raine Lace Willows - My Hero Academia

When it came to telling Mika that I wanted to become a hero she was conflicted. While she wanted to let me do what would make me happy she was concerned about the dangers, she had had an inkling when Midoriya and I would talk about heroes during dinners but beyond that, she never really thought that I would make such a choice. Hesitantly she'd support me, researching the processes and looking through the crime rates of villains.

When the time came around to decide what our plans were after Junior High, most people in our class wanted to be heroes, however, Three of us in particular wanted to try getting into one of the most prestigious hero schools in Japan, U.A. There was however a day that had more of an impact on me, I had seen Midoriya walking down a street looking in the dumps, however, there was a stirring of chaos off in the distance.

I tried to get his attention but he was muttering to himself so I went ahead of him, at least I could fill him in on the heroes if he didn't notice the conflict. As I rounded the corner and saw the crowded area and the fire that spread out of control I stopped in my tracks. This wasn't the first time I had been frozen in fear because of a conflict, but the fire and the echo of heroes saying they couldn't do anything to free the person caught up in such a hideous villain's quirk was petrifying. I was stuck there until I saw the face of the person trapped, Bakugou, and someone went running. The green hair triggered my response, Midoriya, I couldn't stand behind him anymore in these situations.

We both went running the heroes yelling at us to get back as Midoriya threw his bookbag at the villain, blinding him for just a moment. The flames through the alley casting light, along with the group of people gave me plenty of shadow to work with. I pulled the shadow latching the best I could around the villain only for it to cut through and be rendered useless. There was a gust of wind as the sludge villain swung down to attack us and ALL MIGHT had set himself between us and the villain. As he went to react and throw the sludge villain off of Bakugou.

As the wind whipped around us, I pulled the shadows back around the sludge villain, they may go through him but I could certainly help pull Bakugou out since they would latch onto him, they linked us to the ground holding Midoriya, Him, and me stable as the wind almost knocked us onto the ground. All Might had hindered and neutralized the villain by putting him into small pieces enough to keep him from reforming and attacking again.

The heroes had berated Midoriya and me with reprimand for running into a dangerous situation, against the words of heroes, and me more so for using my quirk without a hero license. I was let off with a warning, after having to sit there long after Midoriya, Bakugou, and All Might had left. I decided to head home, opening the door to a severely distraught sister.

The news was live, displaying the replay of the incident and a caption stating, "Three kids caught up in villain attack, two new future heroes or rouge trouble makers?" Mika checked me over making sure I was okay before going on a rant about how dangerous that was and how I shouldn't have done such a thing. I was in trouble for a little while, and over the few days at school, something about Midoriya changed, maybe it was the villain's attack. He got a bit more distant as we signed up to take the U.A. Entrance Exams.

Summer break started, I was constantly working on myself, I worked part-time to make some money to spend on my own things. It was at an ice cream shop, nothing special, I just helped the owner and served customers. It kept me on my feet and I'd always do a run afterwards too. I got tired of trying to upkeep the long hair that I had and decided to get it cut short, as small as it seemed it was a large relief. Leading to the end of summer break I noticed Midoriya going out more and more often, he looked different, and in a good way.

Midoriya looked stronger and it made me curious as to what he was doing, when I went to visit him a few times earlier in the summer Inko had told me he was down at the beach training, so I decided to go see. I knew the beach was usually covered in litter and old trash from the tides and others who had no care for the beach. I had thought of cleaning it a few times but with how heavy things on that beach were I wouldn't be able to move a lot without help. I walked up the hill to overview the beach and saw the stunning sight of the trees rustling, waves meeting the sand on the beach, and almost no trash on the grounds around it.

I walked down the staircase to see someone moving the garbage into a truck, a familiar shine of green in the bright sunlight, Midoriya. However, before I went to say hi to him, A sight I never expected was before me. He was talking to All Might... I didn't know how to feel at the moment, the person we had rambled on about for years was in front of me and talking to him, but the other part was a bit confused. Why was he talking to him, they seemed rather familiar with each other, maybe that wasn't something he wanted to share with me but why did I feel rejected by the sight? I decided to try and shake it off, Midoriya was still my friend of course, and he didn't owe me that information and it didn't mean he didn't care.

I walked over a wave and smile on my face, returned by his own Golden Retriever wave and excitement as he introduced me to our hero. He rambled about how he thought I was too busy to bother and that I was working so hard that he also didn't want to overshadow it. All Might recognized me as the person who went and stood up to the villain with Midoriya as we talked for a while and I helped clean the beach, raking the small things out of the sand and letting Midoriya keep on with his training as we all chatted.

The end of Summer came around quickly, a bit more money to my name, we Finally started School.

(TBC)

[chaotictarlos]

I've been struggling with sharing my ideas and sneak peaks lately - years of anxiety of people stealing my ideas and a few things that have happened over the last few weeks where someone started to imitate and copy me, so this is me pushing through that to share a sneak peak of my 4 x 16 Coda. Words of confidence and nice things are always appreciated.

---

Later that evening, Carlos lies awake and stares at the ceiling. TK is pillowed on his chest, drooling on his pecs with his arms firmly wrapped around his waist, sound asleep. Carlos wishes he was also asleep but can’t get his mind to be quiet enough for him to sleep off into dreamland and dream of his and TK’s wedding.

Huntington’s Disease.

Of all the curveballs life could have thrown at them right before the wedding, this was not one Carlos could have ever predicted.

He holds back the big sigh that wants to escape his lips so that he doesn’t disturb TK. He feels pressure behind his eyes and his vision blurs with tears that he refuses to let fall. He’s not going to mourn their future before they even get there. There was still a large chance that Owen would be negative and then TK wouldn’t have to worry.

Still, Carlos is tired of the universe beating down their door every other day for some reason that might derail their wedding. Carlos isn’t sure what they have done to have so much shit thrown their way but he was growing tired of it. Every new thing made him want to pack TK up and drive him far away to someplace safe and marry him without anyone knowing.

He just wants to be with TK - without the threat of him being taken from him around every corner.

In his arms, TK shifts, rolling over and Carlos looks to see him snuggle into his own pillow - something TK rarely does. Carlos uses the opportunity to slip out of bed, tucking the bedsheets around TK, and slips out of their bedroom easily. He knows that he probably doesn’t have long before TK realizes that he’s not in bed anymore and comes to find him.

Carlos pads quietly over to where he’s left his iPad on the counter. He presses the home button and brings it to life, clicks on safari, and does the last thing he should be doing - googles Huntington’s Disease.

Carlos knows about it but not enough to feel confident about knowing about it. He grabs his iPad and moves to the dining room, pulls out a chair, and sits down. There, he gets lots in article after article about the disease. He looks at academic articles that show the most recent studies, reads about people who live with it, and even looks up cures and treatments.

None of it really helps him to feel better and confirms that this is truly out of his control. There is absolutely nothing he can do to save TK from the disease. The only thing he can do is be there to support him, love him through all of the stages, and be the best husband he can ever be to TK with whatever time they have together.

No pressure tags: @paperstorm @kiloskywalker @mooshkat @thebumblecee @cowlos-reyes @meditating-honey-badger @lightningboltreader @brouill3r @sanjuwrites @theghostofashton @heartstringsduet @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @sanjuwrites

[dent-de-leon]

"The dreams are still getting worse, aren't they?" Caleb's voice is a soft lilt, quiet and comforting. The raw tenderness of it makes King bristle--prickling away at something beneath the skin, a festering wound that just won't heal.

"I'm not one of your students," he bites back, sickeningly satisfied at the stricken look on Caleb's face. "You don't have to keep an eye on me, professor."

The cabin walls were too closed in, too stifling. He very nearly ran at the last port, just taken off into the night and stolen the first ship to catch his eye. But somehow Caleb Widogast is still bloody here, with that soft smile and those knowing eyes, pressing a healing potion into his palms that's worth far more in gold than his pride.

And even here on the deck, bracing gusts of frigid wind tousling his hair, the ocean as vastly dark and deep as twisting nightmares of the Astral Sea--void black and spiraling endlessly--here in the open air, he still can't breathe.

A whispered word, a snap of the wizard's clever fingers, and brilliant glowing globules flickered to life, gently drifting in the chilled night air, bobbing and weaving among the stars like ghost lights. That faint pulse of golden amber--the barest brush of Caleb's magic, a simple cantrip--just that soft touch of delicate spellwork was enough.

Kingsley felt it. A rush of comforting warmth and light-headed glee, a constant hum thrumming in his blood. The man's magic called to him, vibrant and inviting, enveloping his shattered soul in its tender embrace. Beckoning him home. It's all he can do not to flinch, to suppress a shudder, gooseflesh prickling along his skin.

It feels...intimately familiar. Grounding. Like a scent you could never forget. Incense burning as he lays down his cards, the cloying sweet aroma of sandalwood wafting through their cozy caravan. Dried rose petals scattered amidst scrapped sketches. A cup of his favorite tea left to steep. Someplace he couldn't escape.

As if he always carried a piece of the other man with him. It was far too tempting to bask in the warmth of that dazzling light; to lay his soul bare again, let Caleb's magic wash over him, set his wanting heart aflame. "Empty no longer, Mr. Tealeaf," Caleb had whispered, promised. A vow was a dangerous thing in such rituals, as binding as the very threads of fate themselves.

He winces. Why does he know that? He shouldn't. He shouldn't, but. A dark whisper purred arcane secrets in the bleeding edges of his subconscious, forbidden power and sacred rites, the innate force of sacrifice. Caleb's lucky stone shattering, his tears falling, shaking hands combing through his hair, warm lips on his bloodied skin--Caleb giving his own magic as an offering, pouring his very life into every spark of flickering light, fervently promising to restore his shattered soul. A vow sealed with a kiss--

His heart was already Caleb's.

"I--I care for you, Tealeaf," his Magician murmurs softly, a tentative hand reaching out--

King shakes free of his grasp, pulling away and turning his back on the man. This was a mistake. Telling Caleb anything--nearly everything--of course it was a mistake.

"You're carrying enough burdens, Mr. Caleb. And there's only so much one person can bear. Don't go taking on another lost cause."

But his Magician gazes back at him with such wistful longing, it makes his heart ache. Kingsley stands there petrified, heart hammering in his chest, utterly powerless as the man before him starts to close the distance. They're worlds apart, but in just a few steps they're face-to-face, and this time when Caleb dares to reach for him, he doesn't flinch away.

Caleb's touch is the barest press of fingertips grazing over mottled scars and bleeding ink, soothing and calculated, a flicker of desire dancing between urgency and restraint, real enough to center his drifting, wayward soul.

Caleb's thumb brushes lightly over King's collarbone, eliciting a soft intake of breath--a wordless plea for more.

"These are new," Caleb breathes, just above a whisper, his delicate touch trailing over the bare skin at King's throat.

Ah yes, wizards and their perfect memories. A neat trick, he has to admit. But once he realizes Caleb has memorized him, meticulously cataloguing each new scar with such attentive care, tenderly running his hands over each and every wound--something in his infernal heart twists.

Don't, he thinks, all his lives bleeding together again, every memory coalescing in the soothing balm of a single kiss. Don't you dare. It's far too late for this.

"I've had scars for as long as I can remember," he laughs. "What's a few more here and there?"

Never mind that he usually keeps the collar buttoned up, hides as much of the scarring as he can--covers up the empty patch of unmarked skin where a red eye used to brand him.

He pointedly does not fixate on the mage's lingering touch, the way those piercing eyes see right through to his bleeding heart.

"You still fight the same, don't you?" Caleb asks, so quiet Kingsley almost didn't hear it. "Volatile and reckless. It's a wonder your crew still has a captain at all. You fear nothing, and yet--I know that look, friend. Tell me, how many nights have you gone without sleep? What is it you're running from?"

This body. The Mighty Nein. You. Everything--

There's a million things, but neither of them have time for this. Not when each new night brings more vivid, violent dreams. The Moonweaver's voice waning softer as Ruidus rises, the sweet dreams of a beautiful woman and charming circus decaying into restless night terrors. Alien screams and all seeing eyes, Catha eclipsed in a sea of red. The ever gnawing sense that he was running out of time.

When he speaks, his gaze gets lost in the tide, swept away with the steady crash of waves and gusting winds. If he peers out as far as he can into the horizon, he can just barely catch a glimpse of searing red.

"There's always this...this bloody scream and that red moon," he chokes out. "Chains."

He can feel them even now, binding him to some otherworldly plane. Pitch black manacles biting into his wrists and ankles and dragging him down, down--

"Tealeaf. Look at me."

He can't look. Can't let the Magician see him, not like this, not when he's had too many sleepless nights, too many drinks, too many close calls and quick escapes. And one day he's going to have to face the gutting truth. He still feels Empty whenever he's away.

It made him feel real, whenever Caleb's warm eyes lingered on him. He found himself intrinsically drawn to all of the Nein, the world less Empty and cold when he was by their side. But Caleb. Caleb. A single glance from the man, and he almost remembered everything. It was exhilarating. Terrifying.

He wonders if the Moonweaver meant it as a curse or blessing. And hopes foolishly that whatever magic binds them together, Caleb can feel it too.

"I did not follow you all the way to Cognouza just to lose you like this," Caleb says sharply. "You think I would not do it all again in a heartbeat? You think I'd just leave you to the wolves? Come, you know me better than that, ja?" His lips curl in a wry grin, a pained smile that echoes King's own melancholy. "Besides, I...I have always had a weakness for strays."

Somewhere in his mind's eye, King sees a stack of letters left unopened. A muttered curse and sharp hiss, drops of blood splattering down, soaking into the parchment. He scrambles to clot the blood, to stem the flow, tearing himself from the desk before his damned blood can desecrate anything else. He wants to tip the whole desk over and send it crashing to the floor, watch it all fall apart.

One wrong move and an inkwell spills over, bleeding into blood, blotting out the words he was so desperate to cling to.

He can never quite remember what the letters say. Why he couldn't bear to let go of a single one.

But Kingsley does know that a part of him is still a coward; that he still clings to a weathered journal he doesn't have the guts to read. That with each passing day, there is another message, another soft whisper of Zemnian echoing from an old Sending Stone. And for many long nights, he would toss and turn and replay Caleb's warm words over and over.

But he never replied. Not to Jester's cheerful voice still ringing with laughter. Not to Caleb's gentle murmur.

I have a weakness for you too, King thinks, his hand itching to reach for the coat pocket where a stack of creased and dog-eared cards still rests. Longs to let his fingers cling to something real, to trace the softly smiling portrait of his Magician.

Kingsley knows, deep in his bones, that their souls are inexorably bound. Caleb's ritual didn't end in Cognouza--the effects of it still lingered beneath his skin, ghosting at his every breath. Perhaps it was the infinite possibility of the Astral Sea, the ineffable world of imagination and dreams. Or perhaps it was the moment their cleric called upon Divine Intervention, the gods themselves pulling him back from the brink, severing him from the sweet catharsis of surrender--

But the Magician's spell, cast in desperation, imbued with all the power of dreams and gods and the beating heart of a man who lost all faith long ago--it tied their lost souls together still. Threads of fate weaving between their broken hearts, anchoring him back to this shattered world.

He wonders, idly, if there’s some way he can give it back. If…if anything ever happened to Caleb—and it wouldn’t, because he was a smart boy, a survivor; clever and stubborn and tougher than he looked—but if it did, then maybe Kingsley could offer that life back. Let it course through the Magician’s veins instead. Return the gift he never asked for and surely didn’t deserve. 

"If you really care"--and isn't that rich, the shattered shard of some empty husk without a soul, accusing someone real of not knowing how to feel--"then you'll stop trying to take on the whole world alone. If you were half as smart as I thought--or half as clever as you believe--then you won't go off and get yourself killed for nothing," he seethes through his teeth.

And Caleb, that arsehole, has the audacity to comb his fingers through King's hair so gently, to gaze into his eyes with such ardent longing.

"You don't know what you're asking of me. If...if you were truly born under Ruidus' light in the midst of the Savalirwood--more than that, if Lucien was fate touched--then you would be in grave danger, Mr. Tealeaf. I...I have seen firsthand what other wizards will do to fated souls. How much they'd torture you for just a taste of power. You managed to escape the Somnovem, but. What if you caught the attention of another? You got your life back, Tealeaf. You got another chance. You would risk losing it all again so soon?"

Of everything, that is what breaks him. Kingsley sees red, hands starting to tremble as he barks out a raw, hollow laugh. He sees it all in a flash, his hands clawing away at the dirt, tearing away at the earth until a beam of moonlight bleeds through--a glare of vibrant, burning crimson. His first gasps for air under a cursed moon. Whispers in the caravans of twisted fates and ill omen, rumors of other hapless souls sacrificed on blood red nights--

"You think I have a family or lover like everyone else? Anyone who'd really miss me? You think I've got a past and a future like the rest of you? I don't have anything to lose!" Kingsley snaps, a hoarse rasp that curls into a growl, words laced with the harsh, guttural snarl of Infernal.

The words are eerily familiar, an echo in the darkened caverns of a forgotten temple; smiling to bear sharp teeth, to stave off the clawing loneliness creeping in. "Why not?" he dares, challenges. Empty laughter echoing in the dark. "All of you weren't going to do it, you were all taking your bloody time. And what else do I have?" Rallying to justify it to himself, to them, as though speaking the words aloud will make them ring true, "I'm not betraying anything."

What else do I have? Just some bad dreams and an empty throne.

"You have me," Caleb breathes in a broken rasp. "And I--I could not bear to lose you, Mr. Tealeaf. Not again. Please."

The image returns, unbidden, of Caleb Widogast cradling him in his arms. Delicately parting his hair and bending down to return a gentle forehead kiss. Tealeaf imagines what it’d be like if his eyes fluttered open then, if he’d bolted upright and surged forward to meet the wizard—took him in a kiss that was far more passionate.

What it’d be like to feel Caleb’s lips on his, to pull him closer until they were lost in each other. Thinks of the two of them giddy and giggling after a good night at the tavern, Caleb singing some silly song, making the driest joke, showing off one of his rare smiles in the soft glow of candlelight. Holding him in his arms, taking him for a tumble. A night of fun and revelry and something he doesn't dare believe to be real.

A glint of moonlight washes over him, bathing Caleb in Sehanine's soft glow, sheltering him from Ruidus' gaze. Or so Kingsley hopes. Prays.

"Please," Caleb pleads. "It may sound foolish to you, but. If you would just stay until the solstice is over, it would put my mind at ease. I will have Beauregard, and we have--allies. Contacts. Reinforcements waiting for us in Marquet. We are prepared for this." He reaches out and squeezes Kingsley's hand, tries to ground him. "But if anything were to go wrong, the effects on a fate touched soul could be...catastrophic. Ruidus itself is said to twist fate. And wizards like Ludinus have sacrificed your kind for centuries. If only for my sake, promise me you won't take that risk."

As much as Kingsley hated it, he knew he could not deny him.

"Fine. But if anything happens to you two--anything, you hear me? I--I'm dragging both of you back here. This isn't how we do things, Caleb. That's not how this works. We--" We don't leave people behind--"You're not getting rid of me that easily."

[byenycfm]

Via Villas || 36 || Loft #606 || Ana De Armas || Closed

Personality:

Calculating and observant, Via adapts to whatever demeanor fits her situation best to her outcome. For now it's the timid amnesia patient, returned home after harrowing months out in the city.

Biography:

Via knew from childhood her life wasn't normal. Her father headed Spain's leading underworld crime group, particularly the branch in New York City. He wanted a normal life for his daughter, or close to normal: private school, her chosen life of ballet and private tutors. Unlike other students at her elite school, her parents were present in her life. She was lucky. International trips, fancy dinners and (all related to her father's job) made being a single child less than lonely. She loved seeing operas and ballet best, not knowing the cover they served for organized crime. The truth surfaced when her parents were murdered by a rival organization in their home, but Vida was spared. The leaders of Portolés Theater, a secret assassins academy for a subgroup of the organization her father previously led, took her in.

Driven by revenge, Via trained in martial arts, marksmanship, melee combat, tactical and defensive driving, stealth, infiltration, and escapology. She continued dance to keep her sanity, but also a cover identity. Under the guise of an international ballerina she could easily slip from place to place, hunting down her family's killers.

The neutral territories and safe zones for hired killers or criminals couldn't always be trusted. Sometimes infiltrated, other times a trap, she preferred longer stays in a place of her choosing. She wanted to be central, but not flashy, and the run down Wexley was as good a fit as any. Vida bopped around different abodes in the city over the years, but this place fulfilled its purposes. Lowkey, passed over, but with accommodations newer buildings no longer had (without buttoned security and quick to squeal). Well sized apartments, a bar and diner, pool, and pleasing architecture? Modern tenant spaces were minimalist were cheaply structured, barren in design, and had far too many cameras for her lifestyle. If her safe house was one online search away how could it be safe? The Wexley was on the map just enough to be central, but off the track from curious tourists. If she's buckling down from time to time outside of the neutral territories in the city, why not have it be someplace bearable?

Renting full time for five years, but stopping in only every few months, Via didn't make cozy connections. She needed to be faceless and forgettable in case the wrong sort of people came around. Opting out of staying at one of the organization's nests upon returning home from a Russian operation, Via was only home for a week before the virus broke out. Although this scenario wasn't in the handbook, she knew when she needed to team up. With her to go bag and a plethora of weapons, Via was out the window and in good company at Portoles within an hour.

With the stocked bunker, locked down building and well trained associates, they held their own through February. Her companions' downfall was business, which didn't slow regardless of a zombie-like disease and closure of the city. There were still crime units spread out to connect with and people to kill, if they hadn't died or evacuated already. Slowly, her team was picked off one by one by infected, rebels, rivals or simply missing the landing while jumping rooftops. The usual casualty rate fast forwarded and soon it was only a few others and her leaders left alive at the theater. Agreeing to lay low and keep them informed, Via returned to The Wexley while a nearby yacht provided distraction for nearby humans, infected or otherwise. It would have been easy to slip into apartment via the fire escape as she had so many times, but her absence had undoubtedly been noted. Instead she banged on a first floor window (the front doors were demolished) to grab someone's attention to let her in. Via fibbed she'd been injured on the day of the breakout and suffered amnesia until recently. She'd been taken care of by a small community down at Yankees stadium, but returned when she remembered The Wexley and her former "life".

Gathering intel on the world's events and the city itself, Via doesn't plan on staying long. If there's an opportunity to escape the city for better conditions, she and her comrades will disappear. She hasn't returned for emotional connections and the shallow dramas of other residents. It shouldn't be long before a cure or exodus frees Via.

Pre Outbreak Occupation: Assassin Previous Zombie Experience: Killed a countless amount. Aware how the virus travels, but unknown status on immunity. Marital Status: Single Children: N/A Residence: Studio #606 Years residing at The Wexley: Pre Outbreak Five Years Connections: TBD