#maybe when you finally remember i’m a broken toy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

incognit0slut · 7 months ago

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PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3| PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 4

Your frustration over his broken promise melts away as soon as he calls, and you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to his voice, more than you anticipated.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Phone sex, mutual (and guided) masturbation, dirty talk ~4.7k words

A/n: this is just me wishing he was on quinn😔 anyway enjoy part 4, this mini series is not dead (i don’t even know how long it will be but let’s just celebrate that I’m finally updating)

All men do is lie, you thought as you flopped onto your bed.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault—but you weren’t in the mood to be reasonable. You remembered that car ride vividly. He had promised you more time together, a moment to finally be alone. Instead, what did you get? A new case, then another, and amidst all the chaos and dodging bullets (literally and metaphorically), you two somehow managed to drift apart.

The past few weeks had been the busiest since you started working at the BAU, and that was saying a lot, considering there was never really a moment of peace when you worked for the government. But this time was different, it seemed even more chaotic than usual. Every time you thought of bringing up the conversation with him—or maybe sneak in a little make-out session—something urgent would come up.

There was never the right time, or the right moment. It felt as if the universe had other plans for you, and none of them involved the two of you getting a moment alone. And before you knew it, you were caught in this maddening cycle of missed opportunities, and the worst thing was, you were sexually frustrated.

This time, you had no one else to blame but him. Ever since he came into the picture, your carefully maintained self-control had started to slip, and now, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the growing need between your legs. It was aching, throbbing, and even the thought of him was making you hot and restless.

How did he manage to do that? He wasn’t even trying. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way he moved or spoke, and yet every glance, every accidental touch, seemed to affect you. Spencer. Just his name made your breath hitch, your body betraying you. You weren’t proud to admit this, but the mere thought of his fingers brushing your skin had you feeling that first rush of arousal slipping into your panties.

You huffed, considering digging out your pink silicone toy hidden somewhere in your drawer. And while you were contemplating this, knowing it had been a while since you last used it because nothing could compare to the feeling of his touch now, your phone on the bedside table rang.

Maybe the universe was really testing you, because his name flashed across the screen and it took a lot of self-control for you not to pick up on the first ring and demand him to fuck you right there and then, which sounded too crass when you weren’t in the middle of straddling his lap like the last time. So instead, you decided to wait until the sixth ring before you answered with a curt, “Hey.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “You’re mad at me.”

Could he tell? Of course, he could. He always had an uncanny ability to read you, even over the phone. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“I can almost see you rolling your eyes.”

“I never roll my eyes,” you shot back.

“You rolled your eyes last week when Luke tried to tell us that his dog could sniff out bodies better than our trained ones.”

You suppressed a smile, surprised that he even noticed you giving Luke a once-over at that particular moment. “That was because his dog chases its tail more than it chases leads.”

"And I'm not worthy of an eye roll?"

“Honestly, you deserve more than an eye roll,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"So you are mad,” he stated, growing quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.”

And now you felt bad. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to clear your thoughts. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less better.”

You felt a pang of guilt as you stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame him. Serial killers, unfortunately, didn’t come with a schedule, and now Spencer was already on his leave. You recalled the excitement in his voice when he told you about the seminars Emily had arranged for him to teach. He had spoken with an enthusiasm you hadn’t heard in a long time, his eyes practically lighting up every time he mentioned it.

How could you be upset about that?

"I'm not... mad.”

There was a slight teasing note in his voice as he replied, "Just annoyed then?"

You held back a smile. "Maybe a little."

“Anything I can do to help with that?” His voice softened through the phone. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Your thoughts immediately went to the sticky situation between your legs, and you felt a flush of embarrassment. Technically, he could help with that. But could you say that? Should you?

"I don’t know, depends on what you have in mind,” you replied, trying to steer your mind away from the direction it was heading. There was a pause, a silence that hung in the air as he carefully considered his next words.

"I could… start by telling you how much I miss you?”

Now that, you didn’t expect. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Spencer had never really acknowledged his feelings with words when his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it out loud made the emotions between you feel undeniably real. It was as if his words shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you had built over the past years.

Although you knew your friendship had fundamentally changed the moment he had you pinned on the desk that fine afternoon, it didn’t stop you from questioning about where you truly stood.

"You miss the idea of me," you corrected him, unable to resist yourself.

“You know that’s not true,” he replied gently.

“Do I?”

“Yes, you know me better than that,” he insisted. “You’re a great profiler, you can tell if I’m not being honest.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, despite trying to stay mad at him. "You hate being profiled.”

"That was before I realized how useful your skills are in deciphering my feelings.”

“You know I’d rather you tell me how you feel.”

“I did, I miss you, and you chose not to believe me.”

Your cheeks actually ached from smiling too much. You couldn’t help but feel a warm, tingling sensation spread through you. “Fine,” you sighed, finally giving in. “I believe you.”

“And?”

You rolled onto your side. “And what?”

“Do you not miss my absence at work?”

“Well…”

“Well?” He prompted.

Now how could you tell him you missed more than just his presence? How could you admit that you missed the way he made you feel, the way his breath felt hot against your skin, without sounding obvious or too needy? Because you missed everything about him. His hands, his lips, his tongue—oh dear god, his tongue.

Spencer suddenly called out your name, and you forced yourself to focus, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you cleared your throat.

“Yes, I—I miss you,” you finally admitted.

There was a pause, then his voice came through, lighter, teasing. “Why do you sound like that?”

“…like what?”

“Like you’re out of breath.”

You gripped the sheets tightly, the fabric bunching under your fingers. How could you even begin to explain this to him now that he was onto you? You felt like you were on the verge of a full-blown emotional meltdown. God, if he knew how many times you’d replayed every kiss, every touch, in your mind, he’d never let you live it down.

It was almost laughable, really. Here you were, trying to keep it together, and failing miserably. “It’s just… I really, really miss you.”

“You really miss me? Are you trying to say something?”

You hesitated, your mind scrambling for the right words without revealing too much. “No…?”

“Mhm,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not telling me everything.”

You gripped the phone tighter. “I’m just saying... It's hard without you here. You know, in every way.”

“In every way?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling both embarrassed and mortified. “I just... I miss how you make me feel. Physically.”

“Physically?” he pressed. “Can you elaborate?”

“I’m... you know, I’ve been... missing certain things. Certain... activities.”

“Certain activities,” he repeated your words once again. It was then that you realized he was teasing you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “You mean like... talking?”

“No. More like... the other stuff we do when we’re alone.”

"I don't understand."

At that point, your embarrassment was gnawing at you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. “God, Spencer, don’t make me say it,” you groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

“Come on, I need a little more than that.” He sounded both amused and curious. “I’m just making sure I understand you right.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled but still clear enough for him to hear.

“Actually, I don’t think I do. You could be missing so many things, you have to help me out here.”

You turned your head to the side, exasperation coloring your tone. “Spencer…”

"Yes?" he responded innocently.

"You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

"I find precise communication to be very important.”

You let out a groan, feeling the last of your restraint crumble. “Alright! Fine!” you snapped. “I’m horny, okay? And it’s all your fault!”

His laughter rang through the phone, and you could almost see the grin spreading across his face. “My fault?"

"Yes! I feel like a deprived, horny teenager here, and I just…”

You trailed off, hardly believing you had actually said that out loud. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you wished you could take it back. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on forever and you wondered if you had gone too far.

He finally broke the silence, breathing out your name in a way that made your skin tingle. "You could've told me from the start."

You could, but you’d rather not.

"I didn't want to sound desperate."

"You can be desperate with me,” he said softly. “Just say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was getting under your skin. He really shouldn’t be saying those words, not now, not when it was making you crave him even more. You swallowed, feeling a tightness in your chest, a knot in your stomach. The part of you that always played it safe wanted to retract, to laugh it off as a joke. But then there was that other part, the part that craved his attention, the part that was tired of holding back.

“Tell me, what do you want now?”

You took a deep breath and laid on your back, the words catching in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken.

“I want… you.”

“Tell me how you want me.”

Your fingers trailed over the sheets, your touch light as you imagined it was him beneath your fingertips. “Spencer…”

“Come on,” he pressed. “Tell me.”

You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. You could almost imagine him right in front of you, staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes that always managed to make you melt, coaxing words from you that you barely dared to think, let alone speak.

Just say it. He's waiting. He wants to hear it.

Your hand began to move.

“I… I want your hands on me.”

“Where do you want my hands?”

“Everywhere,” you whispered, your fingers grazing your body as if they were his. You closed your eyes.

“Everywhere?”

You found yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

“On my hips…”

Your hand danced across your hips.

“My stomach…”

Your palm slipped under your shirt, moving slowly up your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your own touch and wishing it was his.

“Between my thighs…”

You paused at the hem of your panties, the only barrier beneath your shirt, hesitating as a flush of warmth spread through you. The line was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his breathing—a soft, heavy rhythm that matched the pounding of your own heart.

“Where else do you want me?”

Your fingers dipped inside the fabric. “I want you lower…”

“Tell me exactly where.”

“Where I’m most sensitive,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south. “Spencer… please…”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“I…”

“Are you?”

“No…”

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

You licked your lips, your breath coming faster. “Maybe.”

“Then do it, no one’s stopping you.”

You hesitated, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were having this conversation with him. "This feels so naughty.”

"Naughty can be nice, though, right?" he assured you. "Don't think about it too much. It’s just you and me.”

There really was something about his voice, the way it effortlessly wrapped around you—smooth, coaxing, almost hypnotic. Despite the hesitation that tugged at your mind, your hand began to move lower, and your legs parting involuntarily. A soft gasp escaped your lips when your hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds. You were already wet, and you began to spread your arousal towards your clit.

“Spencer…” you whined, feeling the sudden rush of sensations.

“Keep going,” he urged. “Tell me what you feel.”

You closed your eyes. “It feels… good…”

“Describe it to me.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “It’s warm and wet… and…”

And you wished he was the one touching you.

You let your mind drift to your fantasy. You imagined it was his fingers circling your clit. You imagined his lips against yours, the way they would move together. You imagined him whispering these words right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours as you writhed beneath him. The fantasy felt so vivid that for a moment, you could almost feel his weight pressing down on you, his presence enveloping you completely.

Your imagination urged you to move faster, but you felt limited by the fabric in the way. You called out his name. “Can I… can I take my, um, underwear off?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “Of course you can.”

You put your phone down, and with trembling fingers, you slid the fabric down your legs. You discarded them quickly and turned the call to speaker before you settled back on the bed. Your hand returned to your body, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin. You parted your legs even wider, and as your fingers found their rhythm, a moan escaped you.

“Better?”

You sighed in relief as you continued to rub your clit. “So much better.”

“Keep it slow, okay? We don’t want to rush.”

His voice was low and soothing, and you couldn’t believe how just by his voice he had gotten you so worked up.

“Now press a little harder.” You complied, applying a bit more pressure on your clit. "Right there. Do you feel that?"

"Yes," you gasped, your back slightly arching off the bed.

“I wish I could see you right now," he murmured. “I'd kiss you where you're touching.”

You let your imagination take over. You pictured him with his head right between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours with those intense, pretty eyes. You imagined his mouth moving over your clit, sucking gently while his fingers explored between your folds. The thought was so vivid, so real, that you could almost feel his warm breath against your skin.

The mental image of him looking up at you was almost too much to bear. “Spencer…”

"Keep going. Are your fingers wet?" You could simply moan back a reply, not trusting your own voice. “Now slowly slide in one. Can you do that for me?”

You did as he said, sliding a finger into your wetness. You could feel how tight you were, the slick warmth of your arousal enveloping your skin. You looked down between your legs and watched as you pleased yourself. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You had done this countless times before, but never with the voice of a man guiding you, especially Spencer—the last person you’d imagine doing this with.

Yet look at how much effect he had on you.

"You're quiet," his voice suddenly came through. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes," you managed to whisper. "It's just... a lot."

"In a good way, I hope?"

“Very good,” you assured him.

You could practically picture the corner of his lips twitching into a proud smile. “Good,” he recited. “Now try adding another finger.”

You couldn't help a moan escaping your lips as you pushed in your middle finger, the sound louder than you intended.

"How does that feel?"

"Full," you breathed out, adjusting to the sensation.

“Yeah? I bet you’re so tight.”

You were, awfully so. Your walls clenched around your fingers, almost swallowing them as you started to move them in a steady rhythm. The pleasure built in your lower stomach, a warm, coiling tension that made you desperate for more. You needed his voice, you craved his guidance, even from afar.

“Spence…” you whined. ��Keep talking, please.”

“You want me to describe how I’d touch you if I were there?”

You moaned in response, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, urging him to continue.

“If I were there,” he began, his voice low, “I’d start by kissing you slowly.”

You could almost feel it, his lips on yours, his tongue probing inside your mouth.

“I’d move lower,” he continued. “Kiss your neck, your collarbone… while my fingers would move along your hips, your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need me most.”

You whimpered, your fingers moving faster as you followed his vivid description, imagining his touch guiding you.

“I’d tease you, brush my fingers right at your entrance,” he whispered. “Then, I’d slip them inside you, just like you’re doing now.”

Your breaths came in short gasps.

“I’d spread your legs wide,” he continued again, and you heard a faint rustling noise in the background. “I’d move my fingers in… and… out...”

Your legs fell further apart.

“I’d curl my fingers the same way I did that day,” he went on. “Do you remember?”

How could you not? It never truly left your mind. You could picture that day clearly, the feeling of his fingers and mouth working on your sensitive spot seemed to linger in your memory.

“I’d do the same thing that you like,” he proceeded, and you focused on his voice. “I’d lean in close… licking you… sucking you.”

You moaned loudly as the image of his mouth on your clit flashed through your mind. You could almost feel the way he would sloppily lap at you, drinking in every drop of your arousal with each eager flick of his tongue.

“Go faster for me,” he urged. “I-I want to hear how wet you are.”

You followed his words, and the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet around you as you imagined him there, his fingers replacing yours. You could hear more noise through the line, the subtle rustle of clothes moving, the faint sound of his breathing growing heavier before he let out a low grunt.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed out. “Now add another finger.”

Your eyes narrowed into a frown, trying to slip a third finger in but the stretch was too intense for you to continue. “I-I can’t.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Just take it slow. Try to relax.”

You took a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. You slowly eased in another finger, feeling the awkward stretch but the initial discomfort quickly faded into a deeper pleasure, and you moaned softly.

“Oh, fuck.”

“There you go,” he encouraged. “Feel that? Feel how full you are?”

You hummed a reply.

“That’s how I want you to feel when I’m finally inside you.”

A whine left your lips. In your head, you saw him, his body poised above yours, his cock sliding smoothly into you. You imagined the slick, rhythmic motion, the way each thrust would fill you, stretching you, overwhelming you. You cried out a filthy moan at the thought, unabashed and desperate, as you began to pump your fingers inside your cunt.

“Push deeper for me… I know you can take it.”

You gasped, pushing your fingers as deep as they could go. “I can’t… I need… oh…”

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You need more. You need me inside you, don’t you?”

“Spencer, please…” you begged, your voice breaking into desperate, choked sobs.

“You want that? You want to feel me stretch you?”

“Yes, yes…” you managed to moan out, your movements became more desperate.

“God, you’d be so tight around me… I’d have your legs spread wide so I… I-I could see how perfect you’d take me.”

You could almost feel his hands on your hips, his body pressing against yours, filling you completely. Your fingers moved frantically, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you felt the tension building to an unbearable peak.

“You’d pull me closer, wouldn’t you? You’d ask for more, like you always do, and I’d give it to you,” he promised. “I’d give it to you so hard… s-so deep…”

And that was when you heard it—the unmistakable sound of wetness, like skin sliding over slick, damp skin. The sound was filthy, making your pulse race as you wondered what he might be doing on the other end of the line. Your voice trembled as you slowly asked him, “Spence, are you…?”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he let out a soft, almost sheepish laugh, as if you had caught him red-handed. “I… yeah,” he admitted, his voice breathless and strained. "Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?"

Your fingers subconsciously quickened at his confession, their movements becoming more urgent as you imagined him laying on his own bed, hand wrapped around his cock. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as you whispered, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

His breathing grew ragged, his words coming in clipped bursts. “I’m… I’m touching myself…”

You tried to focus on his voice, but the sound of his sloppy strokes began to echo louder. “Tell me more.”

“I’m… I’m rubbing… my fingers over the head,” he gasped, and you curled your fingers deeper, using your palm to grind against your clit. The way he sounded so lost in his pleasure, unable to hold back, had you imagining him stroking himself. You pictured yourself doing it for him, remembering how it felt that day when you had his cock in your hand—the weight, the warmth, the way he looked at you through intense eyes.

Your breathing grew heavier, louder, and his voice cracked with a strained moan as he whispered, “Can you lower your phone?”

You fumbled with the device, bringing it closer to where your fingers worked tirelessly between your legs. “Like this?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, the sound of his strokes growing faster and more urgent. “You sound so perfect.”

You let out a soft cry, your fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt frantically as you imagined him watching you, listening to every sound you made. The wet, slick noises filled the room, so intense and filthy. You looked down to see your juices spilling over your fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you. The sheer sound of it was enough to drive him crazy.

“I—f-faster, please,” he panted into the phone. “I need you to go faster.”

Your eyes widened for a moment as the desperate plea slipped from his lips. But you didn’t have the mental space to think about it. Your focus was solely on reaching your release as you ultimately sped up your pace. Your body began to tighten up, feeling so much pressure and pleasure building up every time your fingertips hit that deep spot inside you.

"Oh—fuck!” You exhaled sharply as the familiar sensation took over you. “I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—”

With a cry that was both a sob and a shout, your pussy fluttered around your fingers. Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure through your body as you gasped and shuddered. Your voice escaped in broken moans and whines, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Spencer… oh, God, Spencer…”

The sound of your climax drove him to his own release. His breath hitched, his movements faltering as he let out a harsh sound from his throat. It was raw and unrestrained, downright filthy, and you listened intently, your fingers slipping out only to circle and rub your clit, drawing out the final waves of your orgasm.

Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, your hand fell away, and you lay there, breathing heavily, your body relaxing into the bed. Your room was quiet afterward, the only sound coming from was the sound of your own breathing. Then you heard him calling out your name, checking in. But through the post-orgasmic bliss, all you could manage in response was a giggle.

“You’re… laughing?” He mused. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no,” you replied, still catching your breath, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “It’s just… I can’t believe we did that.”

A gentle laugh escaped his lips, a warm, soothing sound that calmed your racing heart. "Did you like it?"

You liked it a lot. "Can’t say that I didn’t.”

"So I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"

You let out a soft, contented sigh. “I wasn’t even that mad to begin with. Just… frustrated,” you confessed. “But I think we handled that pretty well.”

“Maybe a little too well,” he agreed softly. “I can't believe I need to take a shower this late.”

You looked down between your legs at his words, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you noticed the patch of wetness on your bed. It wasn't small—it spread across the fabric in a noticeable, damp stain. “Uh, yeah,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “I also need to change my sheets.”

Then you heard a low, almost pained groan from his end of the line.

“What?”

“It’s just…” He paused, and you could almost hear him struggling to find the right words. "I'm now picturing you on your bed."

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

"Well, yes, but now it's… different."

You couldn't help the amused grin that spread across your face. "Different how?"

"Let's just say the image in my mind is a lot more detailed now and it's not helping me calm down."

A burst of laughter erupted from your chest as you gripped your phone closer to you. “Is this your way of blaming me because you still have a hard-on?” you taunted. “I mean, I’m simply stating the facts.”

“But you’re painting a picture in my head.”

“Of me drenching the sheets just by hearing your voice?”

He made a low, strained sound. “Stop.”

“I can send you a picture if you like,” you offered slyly. “Help you visualize it better.”

There was a moment of stunned silence on his end before he finally muttered, “You shouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.”

“But if you insist…”

You laughed softly. “Good night, Spencer.”

“Wait—You’re hanging up?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully. “I thought you needed a shower.”

He made another frustrated sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine, fine. Good night.”

And that was it. You ended the call with a satisfied smile. But as you stared at your phone, a rush of thoughts began to swirl through your mind. You were well aware of the potential risks of what you were about to do—how it could be traced back to you. You could almost hear Penelope lecturing you about online security and the dangers of leaving a digital footprint.

But when your mind kept circling back to Spencer—Spencer’s breathless voice, Spencer’s prominent veins on his hands, Spencer with a freaking hard-on in his bed—it was hard to think rationally. Before you could stop yourself, you propped your phone on your pillow and posed for the camera. Legs spread wide, your nipples pressing against your shirt, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips. The shot looked like it came out of a porno movie. You quickly sent it to him.

It took exactly 7 seconds before your phone rang again.

“Yes, Spencer?” you answered, trying to sound innocent.

You heard shuffling and a muffled grunt, and then, faintly, the rustling of fabric. It sounded like he was fumbling with his phone, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the frustration in his voice.

“How do I turn this into video call again?”

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maxtermind · 10 months ago

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my boy only breaks his favorite toys

★ : summary :: when he cheats on you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 5k ★ : a/n :: please remember that all of this is fiction! anyway, enjoy the angst <3 cheating is not a slip up but a statement and i will not be writing a part 2 where they get back together :) as usual requests are open for other endings if you're interested (maybe she ends up with someone else on the grid to make it hurt more lol) ★ : gifs :: @\f1-stuff @\userhamilton @\slowestlap @\tyrannosaurus-maxy

Max Verstappen

Max and you had a pretty healthy work schedule. Thanks to your flexible remote work, you could travel with him and support him in person. But there were times when you were needed back at the home office but despite the distance, Max made sure to keep you in the loop.

From video calls, to texting whenever one was free, to random pictures shared, you were always pretty aware of what the other was doing. So imagine your shock when minutes after hanging up on a call after congratulating him on his win, you failed to get a hold of him before pictures of him started going viral.

But now, all of that seemed like a distant memory as you stared at the damning evidence on your phone. Pictures of Max, smiling and carefree, dancing with another woman in a crowded club, her arms wrapped around him possessively.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the images, each one a painful reminder of the betrayal you never saw coming. And then, there it was, the blurry photo that confirmed your worst fears - Max and the other woman locked in a passionate kiss.

The world around you seemed to blur as well as tears welled up in your eyes, hot and bitter against your cheeks. Without thinking, you began to dial Max's number, your fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation.

But each call went unanswered, each voicemail left unheard. With each unanswered ring, your heart broke a little more, until you could no longer bear the weight of your pain.

It was an hour later when you were in your bed, crying your eyes out when your phone finally lit up with Max's name, the screen casting a harsh glow in the dimness of your room.

As much as your head told you to hang up and let that be the final answer, you picked it up and whispered a low. ”Hi?” Your voice barely a whisper, choked with emotion.

”Y/N,” Max’s breathy voice came. It was enough to throw you off again and new tears gathered in your eyes.

”Where were you?” The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, raw with hurt and anguish.

”Baby…” Max's voice wavered, and you could hear the weight of his guilt in every syllable. It spoke volumes, you knew what had happened and he knew that. ”I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the pain of his deceit threatening to consume you whole. And then, without warning, a strangled sob escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.

You could hear Max's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, a sound that only served to intensify your grief. But you were beyond caring about appearances now, your heart laid bare for him to see.

”I trusted you,” you choked out between sobs, the words a bitter indictment of the love you had once shared. ”Why would you do this to me?”

How could the man that made you feel like the only girl in the world for him do this to you? Did he even love you or was he just a really good actor?

Your voice quivered with pain as you struggled to maintain your composure,”You've broken me in ways I didn't even know were possible.”

Max's voice wavered as he tried to find the right words to express his remorse,”I never meant to hurt you, it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

The life he has made sure he spent with someone not you. His voice cracked further and you realized that he was also crying on the other end. ”I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life.”

There was a long pause, as if Max was searching for the right words to say. But what words could possibly undo the damage that had already been done, the trust that had been shattered beyond repair?

Your words cut through him, echoing the pain he had caused,”Did… did you even love me, Max?”

”Of course, I love you!” He spoke, his voice carrying a sense of hurt. As if questioning the audacity to even ask that and that angered you. It made you so mad because this was on him. He did this.

”I wish I could turn back time and make things right, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Max's breath hitched as he spoke before you could. The wounds he had inflicted too deep to be healed with a simple apology. ”I never meant to make you doubt my love for you.”

And as you listened to his voice crack with emotion, you knew that there was only one thing left to do. ”I don't even recognize the person I fell in love with anymore.” You whispered with finality, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

Was this really the man who had promised you a future filled with a family and laughter? The man who just made your heart bleed out?

Max caught on and rushed to get the words out,”Please, Y/N, don't hang up. I need you more than ever, I love y-”

You hung up because how dare he say that after what he did. He called you again and again after that and if you weren’t half dying in your apartment, maybe you could’ve scoffed at how the roles were switched.

However, all you could do was switch off your phone and wonder how the man who once kissed all your scars better, could leave deeper ones in their place. Leaving you to do the work to mend them all alone.

Lewis Hamilton

It had all started the day you had foolishly decided to set up lunch to have the two most important people in your life, your bestfriend and your boyfriend, meet.

Lewis seemed genuinely enthusiastic about finally meeting the person who had been such a solid support in your life. Little did you anticipate that this innocent gathering would unravel into a scene of deception.

The signs were subtle at first. A quick exchange of numbers, a glance shared behind your back– easy to dismiss as innocent. But why would you look for such signs? When it included your most trusted humans on the planet?

But then came the slips, the accidental mentions of knowing each other's whereabouts better than you did.

”I don't think she'll pick up, she said she had an afternoon meeti-” Lewis caught himself on time before shrugging and ending with a: ”She posted it on her instagram, did you miss it?”

You laughed it off though it irked you. You were just glad that they were close before...

After an especially tiring day, you finally entered your house. Surprised to see the sitting room empty, where Lewis waits for you every time he's home early.

You sighed, instinctively petting Roscoe before moving inside the house. Desperate for a shower and clean clothes to get the day's stench off of you.

So imagine your shock when you walked into your bedroom,to discover Lewis and Rachel entwined in your bed, their bodies exposed and vulnerable. In your bed.

It took a second for you to process it while they both scrambled to get their clothes on. You just stared in disbelief while Rachel cried on the bed under covers and Lewis frantically wore his clothes while saying… something?

You felt like you were underwater for a second because you saw his mouth moving before his words started registering and tears started to pool in your eyes. The pain felt tangible, like a weight pressing down on your chest, as you confronted the unthinkable reality of their infidelity.

”Baby, let me explain. Ple- Please, this isn't what it looks like... I-”

You tore your eyes away from him before looking over at Rachel who was crying because she probably understood exactly what was happening.

You wanted to ask what exactly Lewis thought was going on but decided not to because your throat was closing up. The image of them together was burned into your brain. You just shook your head as tears fell from your eyes before turning around and walking out of the room.

As Lewis desperately jumbled to dress himself, his hands fumbling with buttons and zippers, he pleaded with you, his voice cracking with desperation.

”Y/N, please, you have to listen to me. This isn't what it looks like, I swear,” he implored, his eyes wide with panic as he reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away as if his touch burned. Feeling disgusted and deceived.

”What do you mean it's not what it looks like?!” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with damage and betrayal. ”I come home to find you two... in our bed, na- naked!”

Lewis's face contorted in anguish, his mind racing for the right words to say, but nothing seemed adequate in the face of your devastation.

”It's... it's a misunderstanding, Y/N, I promise,” he stammered, his voice strained with emotion. ”Rachel and I... we didn't plan for this to happen. It's just... things got out of hand, and we never meant to do you wrong.”

You shook your head in disbelief because you didn’t know what else to do truly, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. ”How could you do this to me, Lewis? I thought you… that you loved me,” your voice turned in a whisper.

All the times he had discussed the future rushed through your mind. He wanted to retire and repeatedly told you how he wanted to marry you. Your hands trembled as you suddenly remembered asking Rachel to be your bridesmaid.

Suddenly, the pressure on your chest got worse.

Lewis's eyes pleaded with you, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. ”I don't know, Y/N. I don't know what came over me. I love you, you have to believe me. Please don't leave, we can work through this together.”

But his words fell on deaf ears as you turned away from him, the pain in your heart too raw to bear. ”I trusted you, Lewis. I trusted both of you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

As you moved towards the door, every step heavier than the last, Lewis's voice trembled with desperation, his hands reaching out to grasp yours, pleading for your attention.

”Y/N, please, don't leave,” he begged, his voice cracking with raw emotion. ”I messed up, I know I did, but I love you. Please, let me make it right.”

You paused, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. ”How can you say you love me after what you did?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, thick with pain.

And with that, you turned away, leaving behind the shattered remains of the life you had once shared, the echoes of Lewis's pleas fading into the emptiness of the night. Swearing to never put your trust in anyone else ever again.

Carlos Sainz

You had sworn off of relationships for so long after your last one that it was honestly a miracle, as your friends and family put it, that you agreed to go out with Carlos. But he was the perfect gentleman to you. The person who gave you hope for a better future. Giving you hope that maybe all the ‘cheesy’ discourse was for you too.

He knew how you were hurt the last time and reassured you about how special you were to him and how you were always enough. Enough for him.

It slowly became a running joke once you guys hit the two year mark. You were finally at a stage where you had a loving partner that you could trust blindly.

So to say that you were blindsided would be an understatement…

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled through Carlos's phone, your heart racing with each new message that appeared on the screen.

You never thought you'd be the type to snoop, but the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach had become too much to ignore. He was so distant lately and so secretive about his phone, it was slowly killing you.

There it was, undeniable proof staring back at you in blue and white. Messages from an unknown number, filled with suggestive language and promises of secrecy. Your breath got caught in your throat as you read through the damning evidence, your heart sinking with each word.

‘Hey babe, can't wait to see you tonight ;) xoxo’

The message hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Carlos do this to you? You thought you had something special, something worth fighting for. But now, all those hopes and dreams lay shattered at your feet.

You tried to push down the rising tide of emotion, to find some innocent explanation for what you were seeing. But deep down, you knew the truth – Carlos was cheating on you.

When he emerged from the bathroom, you were waiting for him, phone in hand and tears in your eyes. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

”Carlos,” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy in the air as he stepped into the room, his tousled hair and relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

You weren’t really sure why you weren’t screaming and thrashing things around already. It was like you were frozen on the spot.

”What's wrong?” he asked, concern etched into his features as he took in your tear-streaked face and the phone clutched tightly in your hand. Though, when you looked at him, all you could see was how he was your everything. How you had given him your everything.

And you still weren’t enough.

You struggled to find the words, to articulate the emotions coursing through you. ”I found... I found something on your phone,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Carlos's expression faltered, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as he took a hesitant step closer. ”What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation to come. ”Messages,” you began, your voice barely audible as you held up the phone, displaying the incriminating evidence for him to see. ”From someone... someone you've been seeing behind my back.”

Carlos's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the screen, his hand instinctively reaching out to take the phone from you. ”Y/N, I swear, I can explain,” he stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. Why was he reaching for the phone and not your hand?

But the words fell on deaf ears as the full weight of his betrayal hit you like a ton of bricks. ”Explain?” you echoed, your voice trembling with disbelief. ”How can you even explain this, Carlos? How could you do this to me?”

He reached out to touch you, to offer comfort or reassurance, but you recoiled, the sting of his infidelity too raw and painful to bear. ”I trusted you,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face as you backed away from him. ”How could you-”

Can love like this be lost too? You’ve been on your knees begging the universe to grant you one love that wouldn’t be snatched from you. Thinking all your prayers had been heard only for him to do it too.

Carlos's expression crumbled as he watched you retreat, his own anguish mirroring yours. ”I never meant for this to happen,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. ”Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right.”

As Carlos pleaded with you, his words heavy with desperation, you couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. His promises of love and devotion clashed with the evidence on his phone, leaving you torn between the man you thought you knew and the painful truth staring back at you.

You met his gaze, seeing the desperation etched into his features as he struggled to make you believe him. ”Can you hear me?” he implored, desperation lacing his words. ”You are always enough for me. Please, you have to believe me. I love you more than anything, Y/N.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing you to give him another chance. But deep down, you knew that trust once broken was not easily repaired.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his plea bearing down on you. ”I hear you,” you replied softly, nodding through your tears, your voice tinged with sadness. ”But it's not that simple, Carlos. I want to believe you, but...”

Carlos's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he sought solace in your embrace. ”Please, don't leave,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make this right, to prove to you that you're the only one for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled away, the pain of betrayal still raw and agonizing. ”No,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the sound of your breaking heart. ”You did to us. You made me believe… I'm leaving. This is goodbye.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Carlos standing alone in the wreckage of your brutally murdered relationship.

Charles Leclerc

You had rushed back home because for the first time in what feels like forever, your boyfriend was back home. Charles was a man of many charms. Despite being with him for so long, he still had you blushing and getting butterflies every time he was around.

He was busy when you got home so you decided to wash up but as you paced back and forth in the living room, your heart racing with anxiety, you didn’t know what to do to figure out what exactly Charles was doing.

Charles had been on the phone for what felt like hours, his voice hushed but urgent as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. Normally, you wouldn't think much of it, but something about his tone tonight had set off alarm bells in your mind.

You tried to focus on a book, anything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. But every word you read seemed to blur together, your mind consumed with worry.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. With trembling hands, you set the book aside and made your way to the kitchen, where Charles was still on the phone.

”...I can't risk it tonight,” you heard him say, his tone strained ”She's coming home soon, and I don't want to risk it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Who was he talking about? And why did he sound so nervous?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you crept closer, straining to hear the other end of the conversation.

”...I know, I know,” Charles continued, his voice growing even more frantic. ”But I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you.”

Your blood ran cold at his words. What did he mean, ‘not fair to her?’ And who the fuck was he talking to?

Before you could process it all, Charles abruptly ended the call and turned to find you standing in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock and hurt.

”Y/N,” he started, his voice wavering as he took in your expression. ”I... I didn't realize you were there.”

You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing with a thousand questions. ”Who were you talking to, Charles?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles' eyes flickered with guilt as he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. ”It's... it's nothing, Y/N,” he stammered, but you could tell he was lying. ”Just a friend.”

But you weren't buying it. Not after what you had just heard. ”A friend?” you repeated, your voice rising with anger and hurt. ”Is that what you call my replacement?”

Charles' face paled at your accusation, his eyes widening in shock. ”Baby, it's not what you think,” he protested, but you could hear the desperation in his voice. He looked so scared, as if he knew he was gonna get caught up into lies.

”Then what is it, Charles?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. ”Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours as if unable to meet your eyes. ”It's... it's complicated,” he finally admitted, but his words offered little comfort.

”There's nothing complicated about cheating on someone you claim to love.” You were trying to compose yourself, not show him how deeply his words had cut you but your hands were trembling and your voice was cracking. Face pale and eyes glassy.

Charles winced at your words, his guilt written plainly across his face. ”You’re the only person I love,” he insisted, his voice barely above a whisper. ”It's just... things got out of hand.”

You felt like you had been punched in the gut. How could he stand there and try to justify his betrayal? How could he expect you to forgive him after this? Why the fuck was he the one looking distort?

”I trusted you, Charles,” you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. He shouldn’t be expecting you to treat him as a victim too when he was the one guilty. ”I thought we had something special.”

Charles' expression softened, his eyes brimming with remorse. ”We do, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ”I love you, more than anything. Please, you have to believe me.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by his infidelity. ”How can I believe anything you say after this?” You scoffed bitterly. Angry at yourself for crying in front of the man who has probably been sleeping with someone else for months now.

Charles reached out to you, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. ”Just give me a chance to prove it.”

You whispered, your voice heavy with resignation,”There are no second chances for cheaters.”

Lando Norris

Because of multiple torments inflicted by past lovers, you were always resistant to fall head first in any relationship. Hesitant to give your heart knowing recovering was going to be the absolute worst.

Comes in, Lando. The man who broke through all your barriers, took down the walls you put around yourself and had you love struck in a matter of time.

For a moment, everything was amazing. He was the best person you could've asked for. He looked at you as if you put the stars up in the sky.

Who could've thought?

Who could've thought that the same fucking man would have you breaking down at a family event in front of everyone.

The room buzzed with conversation as you sat at the dinner table, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air.

Lando's hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. ”Are you okay?” he whispered, concern etched in his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding faintly. ”Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed,” you murmured, hoping to brush off your unease. Why was everyone looking at you with such pity?

But Lando's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. ”You know you can talk to me, right?” he said softly, squeezing your hand gently.

Before you could respond, a sudden hush fell over the room, drawing your attention to the commotion across the room. You followed Lando's gaze, your heart sinking as you saw him make eye contact with one of your cousins, their faces morphing as if they were having a whispered conversation.

”What's going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as dread coiled in the pit of your stomach.

You have seen this scene before and you did not like where this was going. Feeling overwhelmed, you got up and excused yourself from the table. Slightly glad to have Lando do the same.

This was all a confusion. You repeated in your head before standing outside the venue, away from distressed eyes and hushed gossips.

Lando's grip on your hand tightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face you. ”I... I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

Your heart plummeted as you watched him fidget, every step feeling like a weight bearing down on your chest. ”What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Lando hesitated, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to meet your gaze. ”I... I don't know how to say this,” he began, his voice faltering.

Just then, your cousin appeared at his side, her expression a mix of guilt and defiance. ”Y/N, we need to talk,” she said, her voice tinged with remorse.

They exchanged another glance and something in your mind stopped working.

Your breath caught in your throat as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the truth hitting you like a sledgehammer to the chest. ”No...” you whispered, the word barely a breath as tears welled in your eyes.

Lando reached out to you as you took a step away from them, his voice a desperate plea. ”Please, let me explain,” he begged, his eyes brimming with regret.

But you pulled away, the sting of deceit too raw and painful to bear. ”Not you too,” you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”How could you do this to me?”

There were no answers, no explanations that could erase the pain of their breach of trust. They both just watched as you started crying softly. Apparently everyone in your family knew too.

As tears welled in your eyes, Lando's pleading voice cut through the air. ”Y/N, please, just give me a chance to explain.” His hand reached out towards you, but you recoiled, his touch now feeling like a betrayal.

”Explain what?” you retorted, your voice laced with disbelief. ”That you cheated on me with my cousin?”

Lando's eyes widened in panic but instead your cousin's voice broke through the tension, filled with regret. ”Y/N, I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened.”

Anger surged within you at her words. ”Sleeping with my fucking boyfriend was a mistake?” you shot back, incredulous at the audacity of her apology.

Lando stepped forward, his expression a mix of remorse and longing. ”I never meant to cause you any pain, Y/N. Please believe me,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your trust had shattered along with your heart.

His voice quivered as he spoke again, desperation lacing his words. ”I love you, Y/N. I made a stupid mistake, but it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by their adultery.

”If this is love, I want no part of it,” you declared, your voice filled with anguish. Knowing deep down that you meant it.

Your cousin reached out to you, her eyes brimming with tears. ”Y/N, please, you have to understand...” But understanding felt beyond your reach, lost in a sea of pain and betrayal.

”Understand what?” you cried out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”That my own sister betrayed me with my… my boyfriend?”

Lando's plea echoed in the air, his voice thick with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N. Just give me a chance.”

But the chance had already been squandered, lost in the wreckage of their infidelity.

”You had your chance, Lando, and you blew it.” You wish you could be angry and put them to their places but your chest was hurting so much that it was almost dizzy.

You felt sick and on the verge of passing out.

”I'll do anything to make things right, Y/N. Just tell me what to do.” But there was nothing they could do to undo the damage that had been done, no words or actions that could mend the broken pieces of your heart.

They have insulted you in front of your whole family.

”There's nothing you can do to fix this, Lando. You've ruined everything,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned away, the weight of their betrayal too heavy to bear.

As you walked away, their voices faded into the background, drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heartbreak. And as you stumbled out into the night, the stars above offering no solace, you vowed never to let anyone break you again.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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1pepsiboy · 10 months ago

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You do it all night and the other two overhear it - Matt Sturniolo Smut (request)

Matt Sturniolo x reader!

Word count: 1k

Warnings: idk if it's really THAT bad, but for sure cock sucking and his dick inside you lol

***

You and Matt lay in his bed, your head on his sprawled out arm, as a new movie plays on the TV. It was movie number three or four, you don’t remember. The time is not anything the two of you worry about.

A sex scene sparks on the screen, and you start to think about pleasuring your boyfriend. That sounds much better than watching more of whatever movie this is.

When you look at Matt, you find that he’s also looking at you. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” you ask.

He laughs under his breath. “I don’t know. What’re you thinking?”

“Fucking you.”

“Yeah, we’re on the same page,” he states.

You kiss him in the crook of his neck and then his lips. “Perfect.”

You crawl on top of Matt, then slowly move down, stopping at his gray sweats. You give his area a brush over with your hand, biting your lip in anticipation. You toy with his hardening friend through the sweatpants.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escapes. “Should I keep going?”

Matt’s lips are slightly broken apart and he nods.

You lick your lips as you untie the strings and pull the sweats down. You’re pleased to see he wasn't wearing any boxers. His hard on is very apparent now. You smirk. You flick his tip with your tongue a couple times before looking up as you swallow him.

Matt slips a sweet groan as his head tilts back and his eyes close. You keep your up and down movement going. His hands tangle in your hair, a way of him telling you to stay there.

You deepthroat him for a few seconds, then go back to your previous motions. You use your hand to help with the work. His eyes are still closed as little moans left him. Now, he gazes at you.

"So good, (y/n). Keep going, baby," he whispers, untangling his fingers only to tangle them back up again as he brushes the hair out of your face. You can’t help the moan that leaves as you pulsate him; he's gonna come. You slip your other hand beneath your panties and start to pleasure yourself too.

You remove your mouth and only use your hand now. "I want you to cum all over me... Almost there, baby... Do it." He gets closer and closer, little moans escaping his plump lips. Then he cum shots, some of it going on your face as you pump him.

"Ah fuck, (y/n)," he grunts and his body twitches. You run your tongue up his cock, making sure to get a little cum that drips down. Matt pants in the silence, his chest rising slowly and you desperately wished his shirt had been off too to see it.

After he stops, he grabs you and flips both of you over so he’s on top. "Just a sec."

Matt reaches into his nightstand for a plastic. You bite your lip as you watch him slowly push himself into you; you’re already wet from making him come.

You kiss as Matt pushes himself harder this time. He keeps going, riveting against your G-spot. His body completely hovers over your body, his biceps there for you to hold on to. Your legs lightly wrap around his hips and thighs.

His dick stretches you so well. Matt’s small moans mix into your hair and skin, making you go even more wild. As you get closer to climax, Matt resumes his slower thrusts and looks you in the eyes as he uses a finger to rub your clit.

"Fuck... Yes, Matt, yes,” you say breathlessly.

"That's it... Come, baby girl."

With one final slap, you break into a screaming moan. “Oh god! Yes!”

Matt whimpers into a groan, “Fuck, baby.” He holds inside you for a few more seconds before slipping out and moving to lay next to you on his side. His fingers play circles on your clit and slip between your folds as you try to calm from the high. It only causes your body to scream for more.

“Matt…”

“Hmph?” He gives you a bleary innocent smirk.

You brush back his messy hair. “I’m gonna scream again. Is that what you want?”

He actually giggles under his breath. “Maybe.”

You kiss him, slowly, your tongues touching a couple times, and hold his hand that doesn't stop.

***

You and Matt emerge into the kitchen, ready for the day and not at all looking like you fucked almost all night. Nick’s eating a donut as Chris cooks eggs and sausages on the stove. They’re whispering about something but stop when you get closer.

You reach into the cabinet for an empty glass and go over to the fridge to get your choice of drink. You cock a brow at them. “Please share the undying secrets. I could use comedy before work.”

Chris turns around and points the spatula at you and Matt. “Did you know we have thin walls around here?”

Matt shakes his head. “No we don’t, shut up Chris.”

“Oh god! Yes!” Chris mockingly moans. “Do it again.”

“Y’all are disgusting,” Nick mutters. “Like how does one do it that many times in a row?”

Matt makes a move to hit both of them. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

Chris laughs like a maniac and continues to make orgasmic faces. You couldn’t stop the heat from rising in your cheeks. You’re not ashamed of having sex, but knowing they could hear it was a little embarrassing.

“The bed was creaking SO LOUD. Matt, are you gonna have to get a new bed frame? Cause I will not be helping with that,” Nick says, finishing off the last of his donut in the living room. He was laughing.

Without hesitation, “That’s okay, I’ll help him pick a better one,” slips out of your mouth.

Matt stops in his tracks and looks at you bashfully. “Babe…”

Chris fake pouts, standing exactly like Matt, “Babe… My bed is just fine for our kinky, steamy sex.”

Now, Matt’s jaw sets again and he throws a punch at Chris’s arm.

*You can request others from this list or send me new ones!*

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo request #sturniolo triplets #request #smut #fuck all night #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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mintmatcha · 2 years ago

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The doorbell rings and you don’t think anything of it.

Why would you? It’s the doorbell.

In fact, you don’t even think to answer it until it rings again, then a third time.

You slide from your seat in the kitchen, eyes never leaving your phone as you pad over to the door. When you open it, it takes you a second to process that the man in front of you isn’t some underpaid delivery man, but a familiar face.

Gojo stands there, hands on his hips so nonchalantly that you almost believe he’s a ghost, a sign your misery and loneliness have finally broken you. He stands there like it hasn’t been months since he disappeared, like he belongs on your porch, a statue carved from snow white marble given to you like a gift, a blessing from a god that you don't deserve.

Neither of you move. He’s so still that you think maybe he is a ghost, come to haunt more than just your memories.

Finally, he jerks a chip towards you, eyeing your hands. “Did you make any coffee for me?”

You drop your mug and your phone. One of them shatters, liquid and glass exploding at your feet as you step towards him. He says something as he reaches for you with a creeping smile, but you can’t hear it; your ears are ringing from the shock.

When his hand’s cup around your cheeks, the only think you can think of is the wide spanse of his fingers. They are built long and lean, perfect for piano if he had lived a different life, yet they are still thick and strong, perfect for squishing the fat of your cheeks between his knuckles. The tighter he squeezes you, the more pulls you expression together, forcing your lips into a gentle pucker. He plays with your face like a toy, trying to work a smile out of you one way or another.

The pads of his palms are surprisingly calloused, a rare sign of wear on his otherwise untouched body. That’s new. That’s something you’ve never felt before.

“Now, why are you cryin’?” Gojo coos, the end of his sentence breaking into a laugh. Somehow, his eyes are brighter than you remember, shimmering and bright with every cliche ever written. They are oceans and gems and skies, the feeling of freedom and the color you tried to paint your front door months ago, but failed to find the perfect shade.

“I thought I’d never see you again.” Your voice breaks in your throat. This time, when he laughs, it’s sad.

“Come on now, snowball- you really doubted me?” His thumbs brush away the hot tears that have begun to spill down your cheeks, “No need for tears. I’m right here.”

He presses his forehead into yours, the cartilage of his nose smushed into yours, and for the first time in weeks, in the doorway to your apartment, you feel at home.

“Of course I came back.”

#jjk spoilers #character.gojo

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buggs-and-beasts · 3 days ago

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Sunshine in the Storm (p1)

Summary: For decades her hands have been the only ones to bring him comfort. She’s the only person who’s ever treated him like a person, of course she’d be the person to pull him away from Hydra and stitch him back together.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female OC/Reader

Chapter Warnings: mentions of Canon-typical physical violence and torture, implied abuse, descriptions of physical injuries, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1433

Note! - I'm finally posting some writing! I hope you enjoy it and I'll try to add more parts fairly frequently. FYI, I intend for things to get a bit darker as the story goes along so be sure to check each chapters specific warnings before reading.

Also thank you to @vunblr for their recently finished Toy Soldier series which inspired me to write about an OC/Reader with healing powers!

Anywhere but Here

He’s not sure where he’s going.

Well, he’s not sure who he is so maybe he has bigger problems than where he’s headed. Honestly, there’s only one thing he does know and that is that he failed his mission.

He knows that that man, Captain America, his target, was alive when he left him. Bleeding, injured but alive. He’d made sure of that, he’s pulled the man from the water, pushed the water from his lungs. Hell, he’d called the ambulance just to be sure it got there in time.

He wasn’t sure what it meant, to fail a mission.

He can’t remember any other missions, but he’s confident there have been many. He’s searching through the disorganized snipets of his broken memories but he can’t find anything to suggest he’s ever failed a mission before.

What would failing mean?

It’s impossible for him to tell how long he’s been walking, but his steps are slowing now, quietly leading him down the driveway of a familiar house.

—

She’s not sure where she’s going.

Anywhere but here.

That thought keeps running through her head, like it has been since she watched the helicarriers crash into the Potomac on the news. She was almost ready to follow that instinct now, a backpack full of all the cash, medical supplies, and food she could scavenge swung onto her shoulder. Her hands are shaking as she tightens shoes far too big for her onto her feet. She’s pulling one of Alex’s jackets off a hook by the garage door when she hears it, a quiet crash.

She curses under her breath, stalking over to the fireplace to grab a poker.

Slow, cautious steps take her closer to the sound, muscles tense in preparation for whatever she finds. Whatever or whoever it is, they’re in the dining room. A chill runs through her, her cheeks flushing, chest heaving, poker held back and ready to swing any moment.

She peaks around the corner, relief spreading through her at the familiar sight. It’s a man, tall and bulky, with shoulder length dark brown hair in dark tactical gear.

James.

She lowers the poker, setting it leaning against the wall. There’s no need to fear him. He won’t hurt her, not while Alex is gone.

“Soldier?” Her heart aches to call him that but its the safest option. He doesn’t react when he notices her, he just walks closer, stopping only a foot and a half in front of her. He’s drenched and bloody, blankly reporting back, acting on protocols he can’t even recall. His right arm holds a gun. He raises it, arm extended, barrel pointed at his own chest.

He’s offering it to her, just like he usually offered it to Alex.

She closes the gap, reaching for his other hand, fingers interlocking with cold metal. Tears shine down his face in the dark room.

“I failed.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard his voice. It froze through her. “I failed the mission.”

“I’m running.” The words surprise her as much as they surprise him. “You could come with me,” she shifts, pulling the backpack further onto her shoulder, “if you want.”

“Where?” His voice is scratchy and raw with disuse, but she’d listen to it for hours if he’d let her.

“Away from the capital. There’s a big bus station a couple hours away. From there, anywhere.” She sighs, “Only problem is I can’t find his keys.”

“I can hotwire it.” He doesn’t know where or when he learned it, only that he did.

She smiles, then falters. Her hand is reaching out to brush his bloodied cheek.

“You’re hurt. Can I see?” His nod is small. Without a thought, she brushes the hair from his face and inhales deeply, activating something deep inside herself.

The first thing she notices is a dizzy, muddled fog. The headache starts small but builds on itself, every part of her is aching and throbbing. Her ribs hurt with each breath, each movement. The headache is only getting worse. It’s painful, uncomfortable, exhausting but nothing deadly.

Still, it’s better for her to carry it than him.

A soft hum stems from her chest, a habit she’d taken to over the years to push through the suffering. She takes his hand again, leading him slowly to the garage door and guiding another one of Alex’s jackets onto his shoulders. Before she knows it they’re in the car and its sputtering to life with his practiced movements. All she can think as they pull out of the garage is how much easier this all feels with him at her side. It makes her wonder if she could’ve done it without him, if she could’ve left him.

She’s so grateful she doesn’t need to find out.

—

There’s something disorienting about how much better her presence makes him feel, how the dizzy fog and throbbing, aching pain seem to disappear when she touches him. He tries not to stare, some part of him vaguely aware that his handler’s don’t like it when he stares, but he can’t stop himself.

She’s in a thin black dress, a large jacket surrounding her as she carefully drives them away from the house. He watches her while the sun begins to set, taking in every detail of her. He’s stuck in the long blonde hair pulled back with a thin black ribbon and the dark knowing eyes watching the road.

He wants to ignore the finer details but he can’t.

He can’t ignore the cuts, the dark circles under her eyes, the hollowness of her cheeks. Deep red bruises wrap around her everywhere a hand could grab, her neck and arms and legs.

His stomach turns as the memories of Alexander Pierce grabbing her, fingertips burying into her skin as he tossed her into the wall, cloud his mind. He can practically hear her crash against the brick, her usually so gentle voice cracking as she begged and cried and pleaded for mercy.

All while he just watched.

“James?” Neither of them had spoken for hours. The last stray rays of sunlight are fading and the car is stopped, tucked away in a sparse forest. “Soldier?”

His eyes skip over to hers, falling endlessly into their depth. She smiles at him, the gesture piercing deeper than bullets or knives ever could.

“We’re just a mile from a large bus station just outside New York,” with a nod he shifts to unbuckle himself but a soft hand on his stops him from opening the passenger side door. “They’ll be looking for you tonight,” he can’t decide who she means by they, he can’t even place all the options in his head. “Let’s rest here, we’re far enough away that we can wait to ditch the car until morning.”

Nothing happens for a moment, a long moment, then he realizes she’s waiting for him. She wants him to respond. He nods again, curt but it satisfies her enough to fiddle with the controls for her chair.

It collapses back. She yelps. Then laughs.

It’s warm, sweet and dripping like a spoonful of honey stirred into hot tea, light as a cloud but still slamming into him. He watches her crawl into the backseat, glancing away as she passes him so as to not give her short skirt the opportunity to expose her. He turns back when he hears her settle into the leather.

“There’s more space back here.” She pats the seat next to her, those dark eyes watching him struggle to crawl through the cramped car. He’s sitting next to her again, except back here there’s no console to separate them.

He doesn’t think, just moves.

“Oh.” Her voice is soft, surprised but not upset. He’s in the middle seat now, pressing his side into hers. “Are you cold?” He shakes his head, nuzzling just a bit into her. Even through all his layers he can feel her warmth, her comfort oozing into him. It’s addictive, unfamiliar in the best way.

It’s like she can hear his thoughts, her bare finger running up his spine and into his hair.

“Rest.” She’s guiding him down so his head rests in her lap, fingertips rubbing slow circles on his scalp. “I’ve got you.”

His eyelids are immediately heavy. An exhaustion he didn’t realize he’d been carrying crashes into him like a wave, pulling him under. He closes his eyes, focused on the feel of her hands in his hair and the sound of her gentle humming, until even those things are slipping from him and he’s drifting into a peaceful nothingness.

#winter soldier #bucky barnes #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #whump #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #marvel mcu #mcu

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kidstemplatte · 1 year ago

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broken by love

summary: uncle copi babysits you and terzo’s daughter.

message at the end of the post as usual. please enjoy. 🤍🐁

(this is gonna make me cry)

“Ciao, fratellino!” Terzo greeted his brother, standing in the doorway of the Cardinal’s quarters, holding his little girl, Violetta, in his arms.

“What a lovely surprise!” Copia replied with a grin.

“Sorry I threw this upon you with such short notice, I’m going out with (Y/N) - er- this one’s Mommy tonight.” He said, quickly correcting his mistake as he placed his toddler on the ground.

“Oh no, you are not throwing anything on me at all. I am always happy to see my niece.”

“Alright la mia stellina, your Mama and I will be back tonight. Have fun. Make sure he stays out of trouble.” Terzo said, as if he himself didn’t come out of the womb Satan’s greatest troublemaker.

“I will! Hi, Uncle Copi!” she beamed, jumping up and down in excitement. Violetta loved spending time with her uncle. He was funny and sweet and had lots of cool toys in his room. Not to mention apple juice.

“Alright tesoro, have fun, but do not forget about me. I love you, la mia stellina.” Terzo said, kneeling to the ground and planting kisses all over his daughter’s soft face.

“Bye-bye Papa! I love you!” she waved as her father left the room.

“So, what shall we do?” the Cardinal asked his niece, clapping his hands together and shifting them a bit.

“Can I see your toys?” she asked excitedly, looking up at him with her big round eyes, strikingly akin to yours.

“Eh… My toys?” He asked, a bit confused, until realizing what she was referring to. “Oh, of course!”

Copia was, to put it bluntly, a big fat nerd. The shelves in his office were lined with what he would describe as “artifacts”, figurines and merchandise from various games, films, and comics, which were now old enough to be considered “vintage.” Thinking about that sent a shiver down his spine. Typically, Copia was pained when someone referred to his collectibles as “toys”, but found it utterly adorable in this scenario.

“Right this way!” He announced, crouching down a bit to take her tiny hand in his and lead her towards his office.

Upon entering the room, Violetta gazed up at the various memorabilia in awe, mouth agape. The Cardinal couldn’t lie; it was nice that someone finally showed some appreciation for his collection.

“Can we play?” she asked politely, pointing at the shelves.

In this moment, the value of the figurines meant nothing to him. He would normally become frazzled when someone touched his things, waving his hands frantically while jumbling a plethora of words,

“Nononothesearespecialdonottouchpleaseyouseetheyareworthalotandeverythingisexactlywhereitneedstobeplacedand-“

But she was a well-mannered girl, and beyond that, was far more special than anything on his shelf. Besides, at the unlikely chance she were to break something, it would be a wonderful excuse for him to scroll through eBay and search for a replacement (as well as other trinkets) late into the depths of the night. And if anything were to be broken, it would be broken by love. The best thing to be broken by.

“Sure!” he responded cheerfully, gesturing towards his display and letting her decide which characters would join today’s cast of playtime.

Today’s storyline was rather enthralling. A young and beautiful woman named Collette (a Princess Leia doll) was secretly in love with “Señor Joe”, (a Boba Fett figurine) someone her parents told her she must never speak with. The story ended triumphantly with a beautiful marriage. Copia didn’t know how or when they got there- he remembers Violetta briefly mentioning flying to Brazil on a private jet- maybe a war at one point- but somehow the two figures wound up at a marvelous wedding ceremony on Mars in front of all the Storm Troopers, to which, Violetta triumphantly announced, “The End!”

The Cardinal couldn’t help but wonder what you and Terzo were watching on television that inspired this thrilling plot.

“Wow, that was quite the story!” he said, impressed with his niece’s imagination. “You are very creative, much like your Mama and Papa.”

“Thank you Uncle Copi!” she chirped, practicing the manners you and Terzo taught her.

“Of course.” Copia caught sight of the clock, shocked by how much time had flown by.

“Violetta, it is now a very important time of day.” He announced.

“I already had nap time, Uncle Copi!”

To this, he chuckled, and ruffled his niece’s hair.

“Not nap time, it is feeding time.”

“But I’m not hungry.” She replied.

“Not for you, but for my rats.”

“Rats? You have rats? I want to see! Pleasepleaspleasepleaseplease!” She squealed, shaking her little hands in excitement, a mannerism he observed she shared with you.

“Papa says they are foul creatures plagued with disease!” she said, her bright smile indicating that she clearly had no understanding what any of that meant. For all she knew, that could be a top-tier compliment.

“Do you want to help me feed them?” he asked.

“Yes! Yes!” she agreed as she followed him out the door and down the hall, singing a little song about rats on the way. He might have to write that down.

And there they stood, in all their glory, two little rats in a spacey, well-kept cage, their beady eyes and soft grey fur capturing the little girl’s attention.

“Uncle Copi, they are so cute!!!” Violetta squealed.

“Would you like to hold one?” He asked as he opened the cage, refilling their food bowl.

Violetta got a tad nervous after his proposal, fingers fidgeting with the sides of her dress and her expression shifting to an anxious one.

“They are very sweet. You do not have to hold them if you do not want to, but I promise if you are gentle to them, they will be gentle to you.”

“That makes sense.” Violetta replied after her uncle’s thoughtful explanation. “I want to hold one.” She concluded. “Please.” She added, remembering what she was taught.

Maybe Terzo could learn some manners from his four-year-old daughter.

The Cardinal thought to himself.

“Now, hold your hands out like this.” He explained, cupping his hands with his palms facing up. “Do you want to hold Pesto or Bean?”

The latter name made Violetta giggle.

“Is something funny?” he teased.

“Bean is a funny name.” she replied through giggles, pointing at Bean, the brown rat.

“Okie dokie, one Bean coming right up!”

Copia gently picked up his precious Bean and placed him in Violetta’s hands. She giggled as she looked down on the little rat, so small, so sweet. A little bit like her.

“He is nice.” She said, smiling. “His feet tickle.”

“He is very nice. And sí, they do tickle. One time I was in a very important meeting and I did not notice this little Bean was in my sleeve until I felt him pitter-pattering up my arm and started laughing in front of the entire Clergy. Your Papa was there.” He recalled.

“Really?” Violetta asked.

“As real as real can be.”

“I guess I can’t bring him to school.” she sighed.

“I suppose not. But Bean is highly educated already. Does not need any more schooling.”

“Oh. I see.” she replied.

After some bonding time with Bean, Copia scooped him up and placed him back in his penthouse of a cage.

Bye bye, Bean. Bye bye, Pesto. She said, waving to the little rats.

“Next time you will have to hold Pesto. My bestie, Pestie.”

“Your what?”

“My bestie, Pestie. Bestie Pestie.” he explained nonchalantly.

To this, Violetta did not just giggle. If “Bean” was funny, “Bestie Pestie” was downright hilarious. The little girl started laughing so hard her stomach hurt, rolling on the ground as she repeated “Bestie Pestie.” The sound of the young girl’s laughter brought a newfound lightness in his heart, one that left his heart full but a little bit broken simultaneously. The two of them laughed together on the carpet, sharing what would be a treasured memory even years later.

After recovering from the laughter, Violetta asked,

“Can we play a game? Please? The car one?”

❦ ❦ ❦

“That’s how my Papa drives.” Violetta stated bluntly as she sipped on a juice box, pointing at the television screen as she watched her uncle crash the pixelated car in his video game.

Copia chuckled.

“Maybe you can do a better job than me? Your turn again?” He asked, holding out the controller.

“I like to watch. It’s fun.”

“Okie dokie.” Copia said, starting a new round of his game.

But this round was a little bit quieter. There was an absence of conversation. Violetta, exhausted from an afternoon of playing and laughter, fought the urge to fall asleep as her eyes started fluttering shut.

“Copi?” she suddenly said.

“Sí?”

“Are you a Papa?” the girl questioned.

“No, cara mia, that’s your father’s job.” he explained, laughed softly.

“Are you a Papa?”

“I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“Are you somebody’s Papa?”

…

Such a simple question that dug up so many not-so-simple feelings.

“Are you asking if I am a father?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. No, I am not.” He clarified, heart sinking a tad.

“Why not?”

How was he to explain to a four year old that he didn’t have what was considered a prerequisite to a child: a partner? That he was never sure if he would fall in love or that even if he did, there would never be anyone in the world who would love him back? That he wanted to be a Papa more than anything, but his life had not led him to that point?

“I already have my rats, I suppose.”

“You should do it.” Violetta suggested, as if it was a simple thing to accomplish.

“Maybe one day.” he replied, smiling softly.

“You’d be a good Papa.” she sleepily uttered.

“Thank you, Violetta. My brother is very lucky to be your Papa.” He replied, sincerely.

And the sleepy young girl gathered all the energy she had into one final statement before dozing off:

“Love you, Uncle Copi.”

“I love you too, Violetta.”

And she was off to sleep.

Copia carefully stood up, trying not to wake the sleeping girl, and walked to the closet to grab a blanket. He picked up something else as well: a small rat plushie he had been saving for her birthday. He figured he would give it to her now, so she could have a Bestie Pestie of her own. After placing the large blanket over her, he tucked the stuffed animal snugly beside her.

Copia sat beside her on the couch, scrolling online to find a new birthday present for her. He settled on a Barbie airplane that would make a divine private jet for Señor Joe and Colette.

Just after he pressed “order”, he heard a knock on the door and its soft squeak as it opened.

“How cute.” You said quietly, entering his room and seeing your daughter sleeping peacefully on the couch.

Terzo, rather than commenting on the sheer adorableness of his baby girl as he normally would, decided to torment his brother.

“Ay ay ay, I trusted you, mio fratello, with my sweet and precious daughter, only for you to allow her to rot her mind in front of a screen.” Terzo said facetiously, gesturing to the paused television, placing his hand on his forehead with an exaggerated sigh.

Copia, although accustomed to his brother’s persistent sarcasm, was petrified at the idea of rotting his niece’s brain. His facial expression was one of terror, and he immediately began spewing out a plethora of apologies until you gently stepped in.

“Don’t worry about it, Copia.” you affirmed him. “He’s just being Terzo.” you continued, playfully slapping your husband lightly on his arm.

“Is that so bad?” Terzo continued, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” You responded, a smile and a soft blush creeping up on your face as your banter went back and forth, words slurring together.

Yeah, clearly it was a fun and not-so-sober night out. Good for you guys. Being a parent couldn’t be easy.

Noticing Copia awkwardly gazing around the room, you decided to spare your brother-in-law from your flirting, something your husband would never do.

“She always loves spending time with you.” you said, walking up to the couch and scooping your daughter into your arms.

“Aw, what’s this?” you asked, looking down at the cute little rat friend Copia had given to her, kneeling down and picking it up.

“Tell her she now has her own Bestie Pestie.”

“Huh?” Terzo said, raising an eyebrow.

“Pesto. The rat’s name is Pesto. Therefore he is my bestie, Pestie. Bestie Pestie.”

You actually had to pass Violetta over to your husband, still holding on to the stuffed rat, because “Bestie Pestie” on top of the alcohol might make you collapse.

“Bestie Pestie?” you wheezed out, trying desperately not to make too much noise, tears welling up in your eyes as you held onto the wall for support.

Terzo chuckled and rolled his eyes at his dorky little brother.

“Thank you for watching her, Copia.” Terzo said, giving his brother a warm smile.

“Of course. I hope you two had fun.” he replied.

You waved goodbye to the Cardinal, still holding onto the stuffed animal. You might have to share custody of this thing with your daughter.

“Tell Bestie Pestie I said hello.” You said, stumbling out the door, laughing.

As Copia said, Terzo was lucky to be a Papa. Beyond lucky.

But he was also lucky to be something else as well. A brother. Copia’s brother.

And even if Copia’s heart broke a little during his conversation with his niece, envious of his brother and the joy that came with being somebody’s Papa, that would mean it was broken by love.

The best thing to be broken by.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i wrote this in one day which is utterly insane for me.

ughhhhhhhhhhhhh i’m so in love with uncle copia, lowkey trying not to cry in public right now, violetta’s story is expanding and new characters are coming!!!

thank you so much for reading!!!

if you have sent me a request, it is coming!!!

<3, alice

#the band ghost #ghost band #papa emeritus iii #ghost #papa emeritus #papa terzo #papa emeritus x reader #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo #dad! terzo #copia #cardinal copia #papa copia

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lost-girl-2021 · 1 year ago

Note

I need another fem Spider chapter please. That's so (I don't know what to call it exactly) "refreshing"? Fem Spider is such a rare topic in this fandom and an interesting topic for me, every time I see work with it I go crazy

Here's not a chapter, but I did write something with fem Spider in the canon universe, so here's that to tide you over XD.

Spider had always been an outsider. It didn’t matter if she was around humans or Na’vi, around the young or old. It didn’t matter, because her father was a monster. It didn’t matter, because although Spider couldn’t remember either of her parents, she was a reminder of all the bad they did.

Jake had said it once. He didn’t mean for her to hear it, probably. She’d gotten in a fight with Kiri, over a wooden Ikran that got broken when they were playing. It ended with Kiri pulling her hair and Spider pinching her arm, at which point the adults stepped in and seperated them. Neytiri had punished Kiri while Jake took Spider back to base camp early. She was six or seven, maybe, still too young to visit the Omaticaya without an adult accompanying her.

“You can’t fight with the others.” He told her as they flew, one arm wrapped around her front so she wouldn’t fall off. “They’re bigger than you and sometimes they don’t realize their own strength.”

The lecture wasn’t anything new. Spider was always and would always be the weakest link. Lo’ak was two years younger than her and even he was bigger than her already. She ‘hmphed’ a response, brow furrowing in annoyance.

Jake sighed. “How about I make you a brand-new toy? I’m sure it’ll be much better than Neteyem’s hand-me-downs, huh?”

She crossed her arms in front of her, digging her elbow into Jake’s arm. “I liked that one.”

It wasn’t really about the toy Ikran— if it was, then her mood would’ve been easily changed by a ride on a real Ikran, which can actually fly and take her with. It was about the fight, how Kiri got to stay at camp and Spider had to go back to the stupid lab and the extra-stupid scientists. There were only, like, two other kids there and they were both way younger than her. And they all thought she was weird. Norm would make her put on shoes and too many layers when she got back, Max would probably try to make her do more schoolwork. She hated the lab.

“You can come back in two days, okay?” Jake offered, seeming to sense her mood. “I’ll even come pick you up, so you don’t have to wait for the slow-pokes. How does that sound?”

“Two days?” She whined, turning to glare up at Jake. He was looking forward, too high up for her to be seen, so she tugged sharply on his hair.

“Hey, it’s not— “ He cut himself off as he finally peered down at her, eyes suddenly widening. She wondered if he saw something down below, behind her. But, no, he was staring at her like he’d never seen her before.

“Jake?” She asked, features morphing from angry to scared.

He seemingly snapped out of it as his Ikran jerked below him, startling him back from whatever had happened. Spider, as emotional as most six-maybe-seven year olds were, was already starting to cry, startled from whatever had come over the man.

“Are y— you mad at me?” She mumbled, tears starting to drip down her cheeks. “Are you gonna— are you gonna tell everyone I— I— I can’t go back to the forest?”

A big hand reached up, as if to brush away tears. Unable to breech the mask, Jake settled for pulling her closer, trusting his steed to keep them steady.

“No, I’m not mad.” He assured, cupping the back of her head with one hand. “It’s okay, I’m sorry, it’s okay.”

By the time they landed, Spider had mostly stopped crying. Jake carried the girl inside, peeling off the mask and setting her down once they’d been through the airlock. Max was waiting near the door, frowning at the tear tracks on the girl’s face. Eclipse was still hours away, meaning everyone expected Spider to be gone for hours to come.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, scanning the little human for injuries.

“I— “ Spider cut herself off, feeling like she was about to start crying again. Instead, she justs shook her head, running towards her room.

She ended up crying in bed for another few minutes until she felt better, sure that Jake was already gone by the time she got back up. But, she’d been wrong.

She hated the feel of the shoes trapping her toes, making her always quiet footsteps loud as she crept towards the lab. She hated socks and dresses and most of all, shoes. But, she also hated when people were angry at her and she really wanted to ask Max for a hug. And some food, ‘cause she hadn’t gotten lunch yet and she was too short to reach the rehydrator buttons.

As she neared the lab door, she heard voices echoing into the hallways. The door was always closed to the lab, but she must’ve left it open on accident when she’d ran away.

“I feel like such an asshole.” That was Jake’s voice.

“What even happened out there, man?” Max asked, voice quiet. “Spider barely even cried when she broke her arm.”

“She furrowed her brow and I swear, it was like I was staring at Him again.” Jake groaned. “The next thing I know, she’s crying and it’s her again. But, I . . . “

“Quaritch is dead. And Spider is nothing like— “

“I know that, Max. But, I just . . . it’s just hard, sometimes.”

Max sighed. “It’s hard for all of us. I mean, every day she looks more and more like . . . like both of them.” Spider had snuck back into her room before she could hear anything more. But, the words had stuck with her. It was the first time she’d heard anyone talk about her like that, but it wasn’t the last.

#atwow spider #spider avatar #avatar way of water #atwow fanfiction #spider #avatar fanfiction #avatar #miles spider socorro #atwow #days into decades

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kaymarie-bell · 2 years ago

Text

Diasomnia Book, Chapter 2 Translations [7, 20-21]

as always, my own translation. I am learning as I go, I do this out of love for the game. There will be mistakes.

DO NOT REPOST

Summary: Malleus receives an invitation, but at what cost.

Also, tamagotchis’ mechanics as an analogy for life and death.

[7-20]

Diasomnia Dorm - Lounge

A few days later

Lilia: Malleus!

Malleus: Mhm? Ah, Lilia.

Lilia: I would like to request permission to use Diasomnia’s lounge this Saturday.

Malleus: I don’t mind. What are you planning?

Lilia: Silver and the dorm students are throwing me a farewell party before I leave.

Malleus: Farewell…party?

Lilia: Yes. You need permission from the Dorm Leader to reserve the lounge, right?

Malleus: It’s your farewell party, and you are the one asking for permission?

Lilia: The dorm members were at a loss on how to fill out the application form

Lilia: Since the request is coming directly from the vice-leader, there’s no way you would refuse. Isn’t that right, Dorm Leader Malleus?

Malleus: Oh…of course

Malleus: Are you inviting students from the other dorms?

Lilia: That’s right. I’m going to invite my classmates, my clubmates, my professors…everyone in the school

Malleus: There are many members of royal families and nobilities in this school. If we all are coming together, it’s going to be a very spectacular gathering.

Lilia: Well…then I’ll give this to you.

Malleus: What is this?

Lilia: Hehe. Open it.

~Invitation Letter~

Dear Malleus Draconia,

This Saturday, 7 p.m., at the Diasomnia Lounge, [Lilia Vanrouge’s farewell party] will be held.

Please join us.

*No gifts required. Please come empty handed.

Malleus: An invitation letter? Addressed to me?

Lilia: My Lord. Will you accept this invitation? Malleus.

Malleus:…..of course. I respectfully accept your invitation, Lilia.

Malleus: A farewell party…

*beeping sound*

Lilia: Huh? What’s that sound?

Malleus: I’m sorry. I forgot it was feeding time.

Malleus: You’re the only one who would dare to interrupt me and beg for my attention in such a way. What a rude fellow.

Lilia: Oh, it’s that toy I bought you as a souvenir one day.

Malleus: Yes. It’s “Gao Gao Dragon-kun.”

[7-21]

Lilia: I am sure I gave it to you some time ago

Lilia: It was about the time Silver finally began to stand on his own feet…you are still playing with it?

Malleus: I don’t know when to quit. I found myself making a habit out of it.

Malleus: It has broken down several times, but I’ve had it repaired every time.

Lilia: I see

Lilia: Electronic devices such as smartphones tend to be unusable due to the magic and thunderstorms of the owner…

Lilia: But Dragon-kun is a cheap toy with easily replaceable parts

Lilia: So, unlike them, it lasts for a long time.

*beep beep*

Malleus: What is this? I have to clean up your dung now? It can’t be helped…

Lilia: *laughs*

Malleus: What are you laughing at?

Lilia: I remembered that the first time Dragon-kun reached the end of his life

Lilia: Our Young Lord escaped from the castle and came to my house with a look of great dismay

Lilia: “Lilia, when this morning came, Dragon was gone and eggs were left behind. What shall I do?”

Lilia:…that’s all. Haha.

Malleus: That’s…I simply wasn’t aware that there was always a parting mechanism at first.

Malleus: I had never considered that toys could have a lifespan.

Malleus: No matter how much you make a fool of out yourself for his sake…Dragon will leave nothing but eggs behind in less than 30 days.

Malleus: I wonder why humans would make something like that.

Lilia: Hm. Is 30 days a short time?

Malleus: Whether long or short, Dragon is a fictional being…just like a fairy tale, isn’t it?

Malleus: Then it would be okay not to set a deadline for his life…that’s what I think.

Lilia: I see, indeed.

Lilia: Just like how fairy tales are made to comfort someone…

Lilia: Maybe it would be enough to keep him alive as long as he is taken care of.

Lilia: But isn’t it precisely because there’s an end to it that makes us think that we should cherish the time we have to spend together?

Lilia:…the longer one spends together, the harder it will be to part ways.

Malleus:…Lilia?

Lilia: Well then, since I have permission to use the lounge from the Dorm Leader, I have to hurry up and hand out the invitations to everyone around school.

Lilia: See you, Malleus.

Lilia: Saturday night will be my last celebration. It will surely be a spectacular gathering.

Lilia: Don’t forget to attend!

Malleus: The last…celebration…

Malleus:…?

#twisted wonderland #twst jp #twst #diasomnia chapter translation #diasomnia chapter spoilers #my translation #yeah the analogy caught me off guard ngl #but it makes SO MUCH sense for Malleus #also the gift part...I laughed so hard at the foreshadowing

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florserence · 4 months ago

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Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Dagger

It was freshman year, first or second day of school, and we were in art class. We were doing the dreaded “introduce yourself and your art” and it had gotten to him. There was just. . . Something.

About him, I mean. He was timid presenting his work, forced by systemic school social pressure, and I was intrigued. His work glittered in my eyes and wrapped me within his world immediately. When we had become friends shortly after my persisting, his energy was addicting. I wanted to see what was behind his wall, his wall that was created to survive living in this world.

Later on, it was during the period of world-wide social isolation that I thought of him as my solution. I could feel myself falling further, whether it was love is something I’ll never be sure of. It was like the sculpture, where Psyche is revived by Cupid’s kiss. His timid person and art were my limerent obsession that lasted even long after we broke away from each other.

Loving him- or rather perhaps a better phrase- loving the idea of him had consumed me. It was disastrous, because once I had broken the wall it was a never ending black hole. He was a supernova. Who knows when he exploded though, because I only existed through his emptiness. Existing in a black hole is terrifying to say the least. You lose sense of yourself, time, reality, everything. He himself was even losing touch with that.

I do think that I loved him. Through his struggle of reality, there were moments when he would try to be kind and understanding, despite everything begging him not to be. I’m not always sure if he loved me, however, maybe I reflected his own instability. “And me, I am her dagger, too numb to feel her pain,” Slowdive sang and he repeated. He saw me as his angel, his sunshine girl.

He communicated through art instead of language. It was the only way I could ever see the light on his true self, a reflective surface. The problem he experienced was of his making, a reflection of others’ and never knowing what was behind it. But when art’s light shined upon him, he glittered beautifully. It didn’t matter his words, because he didn’t have to speak for me to understand. When he painted us together, it’s what kept me addicted to the pain. It was light of what we wished we could be. The light reflected his love back to me. But unfortunately, the light also reflected his pain.

Humans are not built for black holes. My guts were ripped out of me and I felt even my exterior stripping away. I had lost my insides by trying to morph myself into what would help his pain. All I ever wanted was to be able to help him in these moments, but losing your organs slowly decays your flesh. I was numb to the pain by this point, but my skin was decaying enough for my animatronic-like bones to give away hidden masochistic desperation. It was truly painful to be with him and I tried to just survive.

But there was one day where my attempts at bandaging with toy doll PVC material couldn’t sustain us any longer. It wasn’t until I was caught being broken to my last bits of bones in my car, when my curated malleable playtoy persona had been destroyed. He saw what had become of myself.

It was humiliating. To be so ripped apart by a black hole and then to see my limbs strewn about by string. He saw what had become of me. The greenery outside had turned to white when he called me, saying he saw me in the car and asked if I was okay. I don’t even remember what I said, but I knew it was too late. Our conversation blurred together, the only parts I remember being the feeling of my bones rattling through the crushing sobs erupting out of my broken voice box that was so used to playing scratched records.

He was comforting me for once! It was embarrassing, to finally be seen for how I truly was. Having concealed myself with gentle-spoken phrases when pulling my toy string attached to my spine for so long, I was mortified. There was nothing prepared for this moment from the voice box. I realized what had become but didn’t want to leave. I knew, funnily enough, that he would be the one to end it. It was painful because, now, after all this time of trying to love his pain, he couldn’t handle my own. He and I knew he couldn’t, not when it was this far, which is why he ended it.

I was crazy obsessed. I was a masochist in love with a masochist. They may attract for their shared love for pain, but there is only so much pain that one can endure before suicide. I think that’s why it was so wrong to me that he thought he was my dagger. For it was the opposite, I the Knife and him the Drug. He did teach me, however, that through all of the pain, I would rather be used for cooking than for stabbing.

#florocore #flororiginals #floserence #Spotify

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midwestmade29 · 1 year ago

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Little Moments 🩵

To Anonymous: Thank you for your request and for following along with my "Broken Promise" story! It means so much to me 🥺 I hope you enjoy what I came up with for your request 🖤 Original Anonymous Request: "Anyway we can get a continuation to “Broken Promises” maybe just moments of The Reader, Christian and the occasional Copeland Family in their married life?"

Disclaimers: None 🙂

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Word count: 1,697

This is the FINAL part to my Broken Promise story! There will be no more continuations or parts/chapters written for it. Any further requests I receive for this story will be deleted. I truly appreciate all the love and support my little angsty number has gotten. It makes me so happy to know that so many of you have enjoyed it 🥰

Read the original story that inspired this request here 🙂

The prequel to Broken Promise can be read here

"Rekindled" is a continuation of Broken Promise and you can read it here

I incorporated some references in this story from the previous ones 🥺 If you’ve followed along so far, see if you can spot them! 🖤

You and Christian have known each other your whole lives and now you’re married. Here’s a little glimpse into the little moments you share together…

“What time are we supposed to be there for dinner again?” Christian asked as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. You leaned your head against his chest, reveling in the embrace while putting the finishing touches on your makeup.   “6 o’clock, I believe. We can’t forget to bring their souvenirs from the honeymoon with us. I can’t wait to see everyone, especially the girls! I’ve missed them since we’ve been gone,” you explained before turning around and kissing Christian.   The two of you had just gotten back a few days prior from your tropical honeymoon after having the most beautiful wedding. Your skin was still sun kissed and both of you were still glowing with happiness. If there was a way to stop time and remain in the newlywed phase you’re currently in, you would definitely do it!   You sat next to your nieces at the dinner table catching up on all the latest and greatest going on in their world. They told you stories about school, the new toys they had gotten, and they made you promise that you and Uncle Christian wouldn’t go on another honeymoon and leave for a long time again! Christian and Adam were lost in conversation about hockey and wrestling while you helped Beth clear the table.   “Marriage looks good on you and Christian. I’m so happy for the both of you! Now, tell me all about the honeymoon! Feel free to leave out the more intimate details,” Beth complimented. You couldn’t help but chuckle at her last remark!

Christian was running late getting home after his workout at the gym. It wasn’t like him to be so far behind, and it certainly wasn’t doing anything for your nerves. You pulled out your phone and sent your husband a text:  Wifey: Hey, just checking in and making sure you’re okay. I miss you…

 ••• Hubby: I miss you too baby! Had to make a quick stop on my way home. Be there in a few.

“What’s in the bag?” you asked curiously as Christian sat it down on the kitchen counter. He playfully swatted your hand away when you tried to open it and you gave him your best pouty face. “Don’t give me that look,” he begged.   “I wanted to surprise you with a little treat. I know you just started your period, so I thought some ice cream would help,”   Christian pulled your sundae from the bag first making your eyes light up when you saw what it was! You could blame the sudden tears that pricked your eyes from the hormones that were out of whack due to your period, but really you were so moved by Christian and his attention to detail.   “You remembered my favorite toppings! I figured you blocked them out after you nearly threw up over my choices as a kid,” you teased.   “How could I forget? It’s not every day someone orders gummy bears, sprinkles, cookie pieces and chocolate syrup on their ice cream. You’ve always been a weirdo, you know that?” Christian teased back.   “Yeah, but I’ve always been your weirdo, and this ring on my finger says you’re stuck with this weirdo forever!”

“Seriously, how old are you guys now? I feel like we’re kids back at mom’s house again! How do I keep finding myself in the middle of your stupid little arguments?” you sighed as you stood in between your brother and Christian. “Stop being dummies or else this time I’ll kick both of you in the shins!”   The 3 of you broke out in laughter when the memory of you as a young girl said the same thing to Adam and Christian when you were kids. The tension between your brother and husband quickly dissipated and they ended up apologizing to each other after they talked through their disagreement.   “You’ve always been wise beyond your years, sis. Thanks for keeping us knuckleheads in check all these years. I’m pretty sure you saved our friendship more than once since we’ve known each other,” Adam’s sentimental moment was cut short when you lightly kicked him in the shin even though him and Christian had already made up.

 “Ow! What was that for?!” he asked while rubbing his leg. “Sorry big bro, Christian is my husband now. He gets automatic immunity from my shin kicks.” You chuckled to yourself as you walked out of the room, leaving the two boys behind.   “She’s the most beautiful little spitfire, isn’t she?” Christian said admirably as he smiled and followed you.

It took several months of planning, but the big family vacation you had been looking forward to for so long was finally here! There was 7 of you traveling between Adam, Beth and your nieces, your mom, and you and Christian. You had rented a beach house big enough to fit all of you, complete with a game room and a private pool. The sound of the waves crashing onto the sand could be heard from every balcony or open window, and you knew the views were going to be stunning no matter the time of day. Once everyone was settled into their rooms, the 7 of you headed to the beach for a little stroll before going to dinner. You and Christian walked hand in hand along the shoreline, Adam and Beth had stopped to take a couple pictures, and your mom and nieces were ahead of all of you digging through the sand for seashells. When you looked up at Christian, you could tell he was lost in thought.

“What are you thinking about baby? Everything okay?” you asked softly. Christian shook his head as if it would snap him back into the present moment, and what he spoke next made your heart melt, “Everything is great, wonderful actually. I was just thinking about how grateful I am to be here with everyone. I hate that it took so long for you and I to make our way back to each other, but I’m just so damn lucky that you gave me another chance.”

The week at the beach went by all too fast, but you made memories with your family that will stay with you forever. Every day was filled with endless laughter and so much love! From chasing seagulls and playing in the sand with your nieces, to having a date night with Christian, Adam, and Beth while your mom watched the girls, to taking family pictures with everyone at sunset on the beach, this was one vacation for the history books!

You and Christian just had your first fight as a married couple. Sure, you’ve had arguments and little spats over the years, but this one felt different. You weren’t kids anymore and couldn’t tell him to “stop being a dummy” like you used to. Now you had to talk and apologize to move past it. Both of you took some time to cool off so neither of you would say something you would regret later on. You chose the bedroom and stayed in there for about an hour while Christian went to his office. As you thought over the things you were fighting about, your need to be right dissolved and you began to see things a little more clearly. During your time in the bedroom, you went to your closet and started to look for an old storage box and smiled once you found it. Inside the box held old mementos from your childhood. Pictures, trinkets, old cards, and other keepsakes that you had collected and held on to from Christian. You pulled his old Sting wrestling figure from the box and read over the note that was still taped to his chest that Christian wrote to you after you broke your wrist as a kid,

To Y/N,

You better be more careful next time! I’m letting you borrow Sting, but I want him back the minute your wrist is healed.

-Christian

P.S.- I’m glad you’re okay. Can’t wait to sign your cast.

You couldn’t help but to chuckle at how authentically Christian his words were in the note. Brash with a hint of sweetness! An idea came to mind about how you can break the ice with him and apologize for your part of the argument.

“Come in,” Christian called out after you knocked on his office door. You didn’t step inside, you only held out your arm as you stood behind the door with the Sting wrestling figure in your hand. When Christian didn’t notice your arm, he told you to come in again as he spun around in his chair. “Oh, what’s that?” he asked. When you finally stepped into the room fully, you handed the wrestling figure to him so he could get a better look. “Wow, I didn’t know you still had this! Weren’t you supposed to give this back to me once your wrist healed? I think it’s been healed for a while now,” he teased with a smile on his face. “You even have the note still!”

“Yes, I do but this one is different. Open it up and read it,” you suggested. With an eyebrow raised, Christian pulled the note off Sting’s chest and read over the words you wrote to him,

To Christian,

I’m sorry for earlier. Here’s a peace offering, your Sting wrestling figure. I want him back after we kiss and make up though.

-Your wife,

Y/N

P.S.- I��m glad you’re my husband. I love you so much!

Christian sat the wrestling figure and note on his desk and opened his arms to you. His embrace was warm and comforting and everything you needed in that moment. He kissed the top of your head and murmured against your hair, “I’m sorry too, baby. Forgive me?” You nodded your head yes and he squeezed you tighter. “So um, now that we made up, how about that kiss?”

“Not so fast, sir! We still need to talk about it, but I’ll allow a kiss on one condition,”

“And what’s that?” Christian asked curiously.

You snaked your arms around Christian and picked up the wrestling figure, “Give me back Sting!”

#christian cage #jay reso #captain charisma #instant classic #christian4peeps #aew #all elite wrestling #fanfiction #fanfic #christian cage fanfic #aew fanfiction #christian cage fanfiction #adam copeland #christian cage x f/reader #christian cage x y/n #adam edge copeland #rated r superstar

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 1 year ago

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DabiDeku AU where they both get together as broken adults is just something that makes me feral.

Izuku, lost and broken because of his life, who got told he’d never be anything but a broken toy. Who clawed his way into the position he has as a Quirk Analyst, who constantly deals with people assuming things (No officer I’m not hurting myself. No ma’am I don’t need a minder. No, my mom isn’t telling the truth-) Who goes to a bar and meets a man just as broken as him.

Dabi who is jagged and bitter, who has pain in each joint of his body. Who snarls at pictures of heroes and sneers at the giggling fans. (Who deals with dreams of fire and pain when he isn’t drunk of high. Who remembers a crying child and tries to ignore the feeling of sadness.) Who goes to a bar and meets a cute man.

The two falling together because they’re broke and maybe out of spite. Dabi told he’d only break things and Izuku told no one would want to touch him.

Izuku becoming pregnant, and Dabi getting scared. Dabi running from Izuku while he figures things out. Izuku, already caring for a foster daughter who had to be put into a juvenile mental health centre, who except him to run.

And then Dabi comes back. And he’s honest, mostly, that he ran and people think he’s dead. And it’s unhealthy to want to be a good dad only out of spite but fuck you he will.

A broken Dabi whose broken the same way Izuku is, and the family they build together despite all the odds.

Dabi who puts himsef together piece by piece and learns to accept things. Who finally let’s go of his anger to those who didn’t deserve it. Who teaches his eldest daughter how to Hotwire a car and who helps his son learn to fight.

Izuku, who grew up with a mother who only ever smothered, letting his children grow. Who learns how to have a healthy adult life and who teaches his kids to be themselves.

Isn’t it just… beautiful?

#bnha #bnha au #DabiDeku #One Thing Right AU

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kinocomix · 11 months ago

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devlog 18: doo dads, inventories and recycling like responsible authors.

The script for TSTW is 17 scenes long so far, still in progress. I estimate it will be around 30 to 40, which is a welcome change given that my last comic was around 110. with that in mind…

would you believe me if i said i spent an entire day looking for an extremely specific book that i used to own- well two actually now that i think about it. I didn’t find them. One of them was a book with a bunch of electronic crafts for kids, the other was this book where you’re supposed to tear the pages to make everything from a chessboard to a cup. Not important, the point is Brandon Sanderson said something very insightful about writing characters that are smarter than you: being smart, often, is a matter of how much time you have to solve a problem. We consider someone as being smart when they very quickly have a good answer to a given question. The reason I was looking for two random ass books I owned as a kid is because I have the time to figure out how the kids are going to channel their inner bear grylls to improvise, adapt, overcome. they do not.

today, we’re going to be figuring out what we can realistically get away with as far as child inventions go, as well as talking about how as artists, reusing work is normal and shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of.

So first things first: what do the kids in our story have access to? this was the easiest to figure out because I know what living situations most of them experience, so here’s a list:

killouette: stationary and a camera. I’m still unsure which time period the story takes place in, so it’s unsure whether or not the camera is digital. It's objectively more fun if it’s a polaroid camera, because then all her pictures are physical. This is a plus because the only person with a computer in the group is talbas. On the other hand, setting the story in the mid 2000s means she probably has a small digital camera that she could connect to a bigger screen. alternatively, if i choose to set the story in the present, she could have both. unwanted old cameras left in a drawer somewhere.

bata tete: fun craft tools (paint, glue, string, ribbons, a big pile of magazines), a basket and a printer. you can’t go wrong with paint and pictures if you’re writing a story about kids, and this is also helpful because it introduces additional things to bata tete’s character: a more artsy side to complement the mission impossible stuff. instinctively i’m thinking the strings are definitely going to serve as trip wires at some point or another, and paper mache is definitely going to be involved in some way.

falefil: a po box, a piano and an electronic voice recorder. My current headcanon for falefil is that he doesn’t really like toys, so minus getting aluminum foil from his mom’s kitchen, he can probably lend his electronic voice recorder to accomplish something. maybe a makeshift MP3 player?

zmik: toys and objects intended to be used with other kids. all unused. I’ll admit this the saddest one by a longshot but it hits home a bit too hard to not include. I remember the piles of old board games, slingshots, marbles, even -the irony- a pair of walkie talkies I had that just… sat there. I like to imagine Zmik is finally in a place where he can share these things with people he likes.

motsik: broken knick knacks, pieces of mirror, detergents, bent spoons, a lot of wooden kabab skewers. It should come as no surprise that most of what Motsik has to offer is broken to some capacity, because of his violent household. the things he brings are broken because he effectively fishes them out of the trash, figuring his friends might have something they could do with them. note: motsik could also try to make stuff himself, but given his character this would be infrequent.

talbas: her uncle has an electronic equipment store, he teaches her stuff and low key is in on some of the shenanigans the kids do. despite the neglect from her parents, talbas loves spending time with her uncle whose store is nearby. he loves the fact that she’s interested in soldering and making fun doodads, so he has a budget set aside just for her. it’s pretty obvious that talbas’ uncle is the only person tethering her to a sense of purpose and a feeling of love.

claude: a lot of organic things and the knowledge thereof. Claude has little in the way of possessions, but she has a lot of street smarts. Claude keeps track of inventory across the 6 kids’s houses and frequently is the first to suggest solutions to problems.

with that being figured out, all we need to do to try to combine what they have with what the problem is and we see what comes out the other end. for example:

let’s say they need all hands on deck for something but that means ignoring a hallway where someone could come see what they’re doing. we know they would have access to stuff like strings, empty spools, simple electrical components and tin foil, so they could for example make a small trip wire using one of several methods i thought up:

this one is a pressure pad you can hide under a carpet that sets off a small light or beeper.

this one is a single use tripwire that would not require miles of electrical wire lol.

two things to note: the actual schematics in the book are going to look much nicer but also i’m approaching writing this book with publishing in mind, so I’m steering clear of actually dangerous things like blades and anything stronger than a small battery. which is a shame- i have a very funny story about how i personally once nearly set my building on fire trying to make a lamp when i was like 11, but that’s not the kind of stuff that will get published for middle grade/early young adult readers. I hate having to squash my book into a category like this, but if i’m to have any hope of doing what i love for the rest of my life, this feels like a necessary sacrifice.

now, as an aside, let’s talk about something I personally do that I think might be helpful to others and I’m going to illustrate my point by sharing spoilers for a project I won't get to for another couple of years.

Around 2014 was my very first attempt at writing something. it was a story called “Last of the Predators”, a very angsty attempt at something serious written by a version of me with no connection to the subject matter whatsoever. it had no plot outline, end in mind or clearly defined characters. Everyone spoke in the same monotone calm way and every paragraph had way too much description of the person’s emotional state. I eventually lost interest and dropped it, even deleting the blog I had been using to document the updates on.

shortly after I started making comics, i came up with the ice cream men: a story that follows two aliens kicked off their planet who arrive on earth. In their boredom, they decide to follow the recipe for something called ice cream, inevitably bringing up a million other topics along the way. This might sound fun, but when I came up with it at the time it didn’t feel enough to justify the commitment it would require. it initially focused too much on jokes and really didn’t have much to offer in the way of depth. so i shelved the idea for a while and this is the piece of advice i have:

don’t throw ideas away, just shelve them.

around this time is where my studies got in the way. When you’re just starting out trying to make art, everything stops you dead in your tracks. It wasn't until I started working on illustrating almost home that the creative gears started turning again. I came up with a whole bunch of things, but some of what I did is revisit my folder of abandoned projects. Sometimes when a project feels dull, it can be helpful to merge it with another one. This doesn’t always work but when it does it can lead to very interesting results. This is what I did with the ice cream men. I took the philosophical premise of the ice cream men which suffered from an underdeveloped plot and bad setting that didn’t suit the theme, and I combined it with the idea that survived after I cut all the slack out of Last of the predators which is the following:

The world LOTP is set in suffered a cataclysmic event that killed all the animals. Humans being how they are, they quickly built a religion around this and decided that some people have “predator souls” while others have “prey souls”, even going as far as to genetically engineer the way people look to introduce animalistic features to faces and bodies. The story is very political in nature and revolves around this role reversal that happens many many years after the cataclysm… and that’s where all the bullshit comes into play that I cut out.

As a side note, what I just told you is the polished version of the lore I rewrote for this devlog- it’s not the one I decided to settle on for the ice cream men but I'm sharing it regardless for the sake of documentation. point is: the reason this felt relevant to me is because combining this with the ice cream men added a layer of intrigue to the story which i really liked:

two aliens are kicked off their planet and arrive on a deserted planet which the reader knows is earth. In their boredom, they decide to follow the recipe for something called ice cream, inevitably discovering more about this strange planet and its past…

That past is the yet untold story of LOTP, with a less shitty name and more consideration given to the themes and mechanics of the things at play. so effectively we have several narrative layers at play:

the ice cream thing which could be a commentary on purpose or the creative process in addition to being a fun jumping off point for comedic relief

the past of the planet which could offer some mystery to the story, and maybe encourage some more serious topics to be brought up

and a third secret one, that i’m not willing to share just yet.

which i think is a story more worth telling. Here's another example more immediately relevant to our devlog. two years ago, I was thinking about how funny it would be to have unnecessarily complicated contraptions in the kitchen. the type of stuff you see unemployed engineers do for social media instead of benefiting mankind. I asked myself how would you go about making those contraptions useful: maybe someone could benefit from them if they were for example disabled, cool. too straightforward for my liking. What if they were small? like… as small as a bug? a very small chef.

how to cook when you’re 2 inches tall. that sounds fun i like it. What if it was a cookbook where part of the instructions were these complicated instructions on how to build and solder electronics? fun! I need a chef and an engineer to do that. I am neither.

don’t throw ideas away, just shelve them.

I kept thinking about that for a while. I imagined our protagonist Claude, a small hercules beetle who loves to cook. I wrote three versions of the script of a comic and even discussed making it a short animation at some point, but it didn’t feel right. it’s not the vision. It needs to be a cookbook.

queue Killouette and the fact that I’m really annoyed at how the camera can see everything. I remembered the idea I had with the cookbook, so I thought why not borrow some of that and make it a diary? Let’s add Claude in there as well for good measure. Maybe then how to cook when you’re 2 inches tall can be the one that comes after Killouette if I’m lucky enough to get funding. A grown Claude who made it big as a cook. By combining the two projects into two parts of the same series, I fixed the problem I had with the camera and added continuity to two otherwise one off projects.

So maybe that’s something to keep in mind. don’t throw away ideas, shelve them instead.

Next week we’ll be looking into the supplementary children’s book attached to killouette.

devlog updates on tuesdays.

#comic #webcomic #kinocomix #devlog #graphic novel #journal comic #writing

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