#they got oxygen concentrators on

[minimumlie]

Being in a nursing home is wild sometimes.

Whenever I can’t hear what the resident is saying, I have the Wonderful! Fantastic! Genius! solution to just turn off their oxygen concentrator so I can hear them better :|

[oosey0]

got a job took a break from drawing and came back with a new oc and a vision

[rabbithaver]

finally on my way home yippee

[misstycloud]

A loser's qualities~

Oral(f.reader receiving), facesitting, mean reader

--------

You stared at yourself in the mirror and recalled all the times people would call you beautiful; they were right, you were absolutely gorgeous. It's not bragging if it is true. Your hair was silky smooth and shiny, your lips were lovely and kissable , your style was to die for.

You really had everything in life.

It was soon time for you to meet up with your friends. You had all decided to grab dinner and then watch the latest hit film currently being shown in theatres. It would be a fantastic evening. You applied your make up skilfully, making sure not a single eyelash was out of place. Nothing would be able to stop your perfection.

As you combed through your hair, a choked sound interrupted your concentration. The gagging sent vibrations through your entire body. Ah, it seemed your toy was running a little low on oxygen. Stifling a sigh, you looked down to see the top of a sweaty forehead, hair was sticking to it like glue.

"mhm....!." your boyfriend gagged. His hands gripped your thighs harder, his nails digging into your flesh.

Really, all that talk about wanting to be a good boyfriend and he couldn't even handle ten minutes? Idiot. Your irritation grew as you lifted yourself just enough for the young man under you not to be choked by your pussy. He took greedy gasps of air and coughed a couple times. His entire face was covered in your slick and his lips were almost swollen of the work they'd been forced to do- which was virtually nothing as you hadn't even cum once. You knew he didn't have much going for him but to be this useless was absurd.

You stared at your boyfriend with disappointment.

He noticed your annoyed look and nearly cried. The last thing he ever wanted was to disappoint you, especially when the whole thing had been his idea in the first place. The two of your were supposed to stay in for the night and be comfortable- you had promised him this since months back- but suddenly you got a call from your friends, asking if you wanted to go out. When you told him of your plans he reminded you of your promise and in retaliation you emphasised on your need for fun and excitement; there was no way you would miss the fun for some boring movie he wanted to watch. He already knew begging would be pointless so he came up with another plan to make you stay. In a desperate attempt to keep you he wanted to show how fun he could be.

Unfortunately for him, you were less than pleased with his performance.

Your boyfriend panicked at the thought of underperforming. This wasn't just a matter of wether you were ditching to hang out with your friends, this was now a matter of wether you would find him valuable as a partner at all. He wasn't much of a looker, he had no friends and stayed in his corner all the time. The only advantage he had was his intellect. Too bad you didn't find too much value in that either.

He believed if he could please you as a man then your attitude toward him would shift, but it appeared he couldn't even do that, despite all the materials and videos he'd consumed in his spare time(he wanted to be prepared).

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He fucked up. "Please, I can do it! I-I just need more practice..." he cried.

You rolled your eyes at his typical cry-baby behaviour. Did this man ever shut up? "I don't think practice is ever gonna help you. You're really hopeless, y'know."

He whimpered, "N-no, I said I can do it. Sit down, sit on my face!" he said as he tried to forcibly pull you down to rest onto his face. When you didn't budge he instead leaned up to place hasty kisses on your thighs. He licked and sucked on your skin, enough to leave marks. Despite him sucking-ass at eating you out, you had to admit, seeing him so pathetically glide his tongue over your thighs and beg for your attention sent heat to your core.

You supposed you always had a bit of a thing for pitiful men.

You smirked down at him. "Really? Are you sure you can handle it? It didn't seem like it before."

"Yes, yes I can! I promise I'll make you feel good if you just let me."

You pouted, faking uncertainty. "I don't know, baby. You didn't make me feel good at all before. I'm not convinced you can do it." You loved the way he shivered and let out a mix between a whimper and a moan at your nickname. Oh he just loved being your baby. "You haven't made me cum at all. Don't you want me to cum?"

"Of course I do, (Y/n)! I want nothing more than to pleasure you enough to..-to do that!" He blushed furiously under you.

Aw, he was still a little shy in the language.

"I'll make it happen, I swear." your boyfriends eyes dazed over for a second, blush still present. "I'm simply not used to it, that's all."

"You're not used to make girls cum on your face?" you teased.

Of course he wasn't. Before you he hadn't as much as held hands with someone of the opposite sex. He completely fit the die-alone virgin stereotype.

For the first time in the entire evening he had the courage to look you in the eye. With force determination he said, "I will learn for you (Y/n). If you teach me I'll be sure to satisfy you. I'm a very fast learner."

That was true. If he wasn't then he wouldn't be able to have the highest score out of everyone. His big brain was his only redemption.

"So, tell me, how do you want it?"

——-

(It’s the first time I’ve tried writing anything explicit, so hope it’s alright.)

[cjlouwho]

prompt: buck gets hurt at a scene due to gerrard. tommy is working ground ops and becomes livid with gerrard. maybe someone has to pull tommy off of him! anyway, buck ends up finding it hot.

“In one word, how would you describe Tommy?”

“Uh... cool.”

“Firefighter Buckley! E- Evan! Evan! Do you copy?!” His heart was racing. He could feel it pounding in his ears.

He didn't wait long for a response. Didn't go back for his helmet or his oxygen. He just ran. He ran past the rest of the 118, who yelled at him to wait. He tore loose of the grasp that Eddie had on him for a brief second. He ignored the way his eyes started to burn before he even got in the building. He gasped and choked against the dryness in his throat as soon as he was inside.

He only had to take a few steps in when he was stopped by a caved in ceiling that blocked any path. That didn't matter anyway, because somewhere underneath the ceiling was Evan.

Evan, who shouldn't have been in the building anyway.

Evan, who had yelled over the radio that he could hear the structure beginning to collapse.

Evan, who cut out before he could finish relaying the information because the ceiling fell on top of him.

He was under there somewhere.

And Tommy was going to dig him out or die trying.

He wasn't alone. He knew that. He could hear familiar voices around him. They were yelling, calling out to Buck, tossing away debris. Tommy knew they were trying to help, but it wasn't fast enough.

It wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough!

“Evan!” He screamed over the sounds of the creaking building all around him. His throat felt like it was on fire.

He didn't care.

“Evan! Evan, where are you?! Make a sound!”

What about you? One word to describe Tommy.”

“Hm... I'll go with stoic.”

He could hear a different voice over the radio. The voice of a man he hated.

“118, evacuate immediately! You're disobeying a direct order!”

He was the reason they were having to dig for Evan right now. The building had been evacuated. All personnel had been accounted for. Except Gerrard decided he didn't agree with the head count. He didn't believe that everyone had gotten out. Swore he saw movement inside.

It didn't take much to convince Buck. If he thought someone was still in danger, he was going to go back in and rescue them.

It's what any of them would have done.

But Buck had been Gerrard's target.

There wasn't anyone else in the building. A part of Tommy wondered if Gerrard had actually seen anything at all.

No one else knew that Buck had gone back in at the time. They were all busy tending to the wounded or working on stabilizing the fire. It wasn't until his voice came over the radio that they learned he was inside. And then the roof came crashing down.

“I repeat, get your asses out now! We'll begin a recovery mission when the fire is completely out.”

Recovery... not rescue.

Tommy ripped the radio off of him and slung it across the room. It didn't matter that the others still had their radios on. That Gerrard's voice was still echoing through the smoke-filled space. It wasn't right in his ear anymore, so he could concentrate on what mattered.

He continued digging so vigorously that he was gasping and panting for breath. He could hear the wheezing escaping him. His muscles ached and sweat dripped into his eyes.

He kept going anyway. Nothing would stop him.

“Your turn.”

“These games are hard.”

“They're not games, they're personality tests. I wanna see how right we are. Now, one word. Tommy. Go.”

“Ugh! Fine. He's adaptable.”

Tommy tossed more and more pieces of rubble away until he hit something that was not part of the roof.

It was a shoe.

Or a boot, to be more accurate.

Evan.

“Evan!” he yelled. “Hey, I- I got something! Over here! Help!” He continued digging to get to Evan as the rest of the 118 came over to help.

“Come on, Evan. Move! We've got you, we've got you.”

Evan didn't move.

He didn't move when they got the last of the debris off of him.

Didn't move when they pulled off his helmet and mask to check for a pulse.

Didn't move when Chimney looked over at Hen and shook his head.

“We've gotta get him out of here!” Chimney yelled. Before they could get into position to lift him together, Tommy was reaching under his knees and arms, hoisting him up and carrying his lifeless body out of the building.

He ran until he made it outside, then carefully laid Evan on the ground and began chest compressions. He wasn't sure how quickly he moved, but it took a few seconds for the group to catch up to him. “Come on, Evan!” Tommy yelled as he counted. “Come on, Baby! Breathe, Evan! Breathe!”

He felt hands on his shoulders, someone- Chimney, he thinks- was telling him to stop. To let them take over.

He kept going.

“Breathe, Baby, just breathe!”

“Now you.”

“I'd say calm under pressure.”

“That is not one word.”

“Okay, so one word for calm under pressure then.”

“Composed?”

“That'll do.”

“You know, calm works too, guys.”

“Please, Evan!”

Suddenly, arms were wrapping around him, pulling him off of Evan before he could try to fight back or protest.

He jerked away from the hold, twisting to see it was Eddie. “What the hell are you doing?!” he yelled.

“They've got it, Tommy,” he replied, his own voice shaking with worry. “Let them handle it.”

He turned back around to see Chimney and Hen working on Evan. They had already torn his shirt and had him ready to be shocked.

Tommy moved beside him, kneeled down and got as close as he could without touching him. “Evan, you gotta breathe. Please, just breathe.”

As soon as he was shocked, the monitor came to life. “I got a pulse!” Chimney exclaimed. “Let's get him ready for transport.”

Tommy thought that would be the moment his own breath would come back to him. He thought that's when he'd feel joy and relief.

He didn't.

As they got Evan ready to go to the hospital, Tommy's gaze drifted up.

Right to Gerrard.

He could feel his blood boiling. A rage like he'd never felt before seeping through every pore in his body. He didn't listen as Eddie came up beside him, telling him he needed to go to the hospital and get checked out too.

He breezed right past him. His pace quickened the closer he got to Gerrard. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the man, and his arm was going back, then making direct contact with Gerrard's nose. “You son of a bitch!” Tommy yelled as Gerrard stumbled backwards. He brought both hands to his face, blood seeping out between his fingers.

Tommy didn't care. He took another step and grabbed onto Gerrard's turnouts. “You sent him in to die!” he shouted as he shoved him against a firetruck.

“I'll have your job, Kinard!”

“You won't get the chance.” The words came out in a growl. It wasn't a threat, but a promise. He didn't care what happened to him in that moment, as long as Gerrard could never hurt another person again. His arm went back, but this time he had people grabbing onto him and pushing him away.

“He's not worth it, Man!” Eddie yelled. Holding his arms out between Gerrard and Tommy to keep them apart. “He's not worth it. Go be with Buck.” Eddie pointed back to the ambulance, which was seconds away from leaving for the hospital. “Go!” he demanded.

“If something happens to him,” Tommy warned, staring Gerrard down, “I will kill you.”

“Tommy!” Eddie yelled. “Go!”

With a final glare, Tommy turned, running for the ambulance.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“One word. How would you describe me?”

“One word isn't enough.”

“It's all you've got.”

“Then... Loving. No! Caring. No! Affectionate. Wait-”

“Evan.”

“This is hard!”

“Gotta pick one, Babe.”

“Fine. I think, loyal. Yeah, that's a good one. You're loyal.”

There were two very uneasy days in the hospital before Buck woke up.

Tommy wasn't there when it happened. He'd been at the hospital for forty hours straight when Maddie demanded he go home, shower, and eat something before he came back.

He had just stepped out of the shower when he got a text from Maddie saying he was awake and alert.

He'd never gotten dressed so fast in his life.

His hair was still a mess of wet curls when he raced back into the hospital. It wasn't until he walked into the room and saw that Evan was sitting up with a pudding cup in hand that he finally felt okay again.

“Hi,” he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing.

Evan smiled at him, setting the pudding cup on the tray table. “Hi yourself.”

Tommy didn't notice Maddie in the room. Didn't realize Eddie was there either. He simply walked over to Evan and sat beside him on the bed, cupping his face in his hands and leaning in for a kiss.

He tasted like chocolate pudding.

It was wonderful.

“We're, uh, we're gonna give you two a minute,” Maddie said, getting up from her chair. She and Eddie snuck out before Tommy pulled back from the kiss.

“I was so worried about you.” Tommy's eyes wandered over Evan's body. A fear that something else might be wrong. Something the doctors didn't notice while Evan was unconscious. “How are you feeling? I wanted to be here when you woke up but your sister made me leave.”

Evan took Tommy's hand in his, holding on tight. “I'm okay, Tommy. I promise. Maddie, um, she told me she had to basically force you out of here.”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “She threatened to have me committed if I didn't go home.”

Evan lifted his free hand and ran it through Tommy's hair. “I've never seen you leave the house with your curls before.”

Tommy shrugged. “You're more important.”

Buck couldn't help the blush that rose on his cheeks. “I- I heard, um, from Eddie that you... you defended my honor at the scene.”

Tommy shook his head. “You don't need anyone to defend your honor, Evan. I did go a little crazy though.”

“But you won't lose your job, right?”

“Got two week's paid suspension, and I have to go to anger management, but I think Gerrard is the one at risk of losing it all. Apparently I had a lot of people backing me up. Him, not so much.”

Evan nodded. “Good. Now kiss me again.”

Tommy smiled, his face scrunching up tight as he leaned in for another kiss. It was more chaste than the last, but filled with just as much love.

“Can I tell you something?” Buck asked in a near whisper once they had parted.

“Of course.”

“When Eddie was telling me what you did, I- I...” He broke eye contact, pursing his lips as he fiddled with the sheet draped over his waist. “I thought it was really hot.”

Tommy's eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Tommy placed his fingers under Evan's chin, lifting his head until their eyes met. “I'm sure someone got it on video,” he said, eyes going dark. “Could probably get you a copy.”

Evan took a deep breath. He knew his heart rate monitor had to be going crazy right now. “I love you, Tommy,” he said, grabbing onto Tommy's shirt and dragging him in for another kiss.

Tommy stopped as his lips ghosted over Evan's. “I love you more.”

“You've gotta pick one for yourself now.”

“Oh God. Sarcastic.”

“Uh-uh. Won't accept it.”

“What?! You can't deny my word for me!”

“I can and I will. Say something positive.”

“Sarcastic can be positive. It won you over.”

“Tommy.”

They were quite for a moment, then Evan glanced up from his paper to see Tommy watching him closely.

“Why are you staring like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you're in love with me.”

“I am in love with you.”

“Ugh! Tommy, pick a word.”

“Okay, fine. Um, Protective. I'm very protective.”

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐇𝐂'𝐒

Headcanons about my 2nd wife because she’s under appreciated in the writing community😔

She’s a professional spoiler—gives you all types of jewelry, clothes, even as small as simple notes; it’s her love language

As you slowly woke up from sleep, turning to the nightstand, there was an envelope. A smile plastered across your face, you were quick to open it, knowing it was from her. It was written in her beautiful handwriting, small doodles in each corner.

I love waking up next to you every morning, it’s a beautiful sight to see when I open my eyes.

A sketch of you laid at the bottom of the paper; your every feature highlighted by her skilled hands.

Although she has a neutral and put-together attitude in public, once she’s alone with you, she’s allows herself to be vulnerable.

Makes a lot of sketches of you, when you’re sleep, concentrated, eating, basically doing anything.

She gets a bit silly sometimes, whether it’s making faces or gestures unconsciously.

“And uh—em…” she moved her hands around in circles as she struggled to explain something. You slightly furrowed your eyebrows, a small smile on your face, “What are you doing?” Her eyes averted from your face to her hands, feeling embarrassed.

Absolutely an art nerd; she will talk about every single painting she’s ever admired and explain microscopic details

Has had frequent nightmares since being trapped in the oculorum. Moments before, she’d watched her only friend die, destroyed in a matter of seconds at the hands of the Black Rose. She was kept there for months, fearing for her life, being deceived left and right. Her own brother, she truly thought he was alive…it was all a lie.

She sat up straight, chest heaving as she tried to collect her thoughts. Kino, Elora. She felt suffocated, as if oxygen was being stolen from her lungs. A hand found it’s way to her back and she flinched until she heard your face, “Mel, it’s just me.” She turned and looked at your face, full of concern and sympathy. There wasn’t a verbal response but she clung to your body, silently hoping that this wasn’t a hallucination.

It wasn’t until she felt you squeeze her body twice that she was fully relieved. You have this act of reassurance where you squeeze her twice so she knows that what she’s experiencing is real.

Often gets up really early to watch the sun rise. It’s so unreal how all the colors blend together in the sky and created this gorgeous image.

Has like the best diet ever, of course

Tells you stories of her childhood in Noxus, what her mother was like, why she got exiled.

Her hands are always cold for no particular reason

You jumped when you felt a freezing sensation trace your back. She pulled her hand back, “It’s just my hand,” she smiled. “Why are your hands always ice-cold?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows, she gave a small shrug in response. You took her hands in yours to warm them up a little, “I appreciate this,” she said softly as her eyes met yours.

Is usually the big spoon but won’t mind being a little spoon. She loves having your arms wrapped around her.

If you give her an attitude, she will somehow eliminate it without even saying anything.

You gave a huff, “It’s not like you’d know anything about it.” The words came with an eye roll, you’ve been like this since the morning and she was getting pretty tired. She’d ignored it, assuming you’d figure it out on your own but clearly you didn’t. She raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowed, and she saw the moment where you realized. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled out apologetically. “Apology accepted, but don’t make it a habit,” she uncrossed her arms and held your hand.

[nastygoblincrimes]

Butch and Femme-bot

A sleek state of the art assault synth finds herself wildly attracted to a beat up mining robot that despite its civilian applications ends up being far more formidable than she ever anticipated. CW for violence (against organics) and digital interfacing/mature content.

The C series of combat assault synths were designed to be the best at what they did. Small and mobile enough for ship-to-ship boarding, with state of the art flechette rounds meant for tearing flesh to bloody bits without the risk of a hull breach. Their sleek designs had been pasted on the front pages of tech sites for months leading up to their release, with whole articles dedicated to their range of takedown techniques and hacking subroutines.

In short, CAS-C was the best. She carried herself with the air of a non-person who knew she was worth more than her maintenance engineer could earn in eight lifetimes as she strode confidently down to the torpedo bay. As she entered, one of the artillerymen looked up from the pod he was prepping and bowed his head respectfully.

“Alright Cassie, ready to go to work?”

CAS-C manipulated her hands into a thumbs-up gesture and climbed inside the pod.

“Damn right I am,” she said smugly as she crossed her arms so the pod could close. “I love my job.”

The soldier chuckled as he sealed her in, then loaded the pod into the kinetic launcher that would send her at speed into the asteroid mining station they'd been sent to clear out from an infestation of space pirates. The airtight pod muted the sounds from outside, but her internal clock was more than sufficient to follow the countdown until with a percussive boom like the roar of some ancient earth cannon her pod was launched at a speed that would scorch ozone if they'd been in atmosphere.

Instead she stared out through the transparent aluminum window at the black void of space for all of eighteen seconds. Then there was a shuddering impact as her pod struck a metallic structure with enough force to embed itself in the steel walls of the mining facility she'd been dispatched to clear out.

Kicking the pod open, she emerged like a titanium and ceramic hornet, engaging the mag-locks built into her feet in order to anchor herself to the manmade structure. Readying her flechette launcher, she stalked along the outer hull to the airlocked entrance, and jacked in. The security was laughable and it took less than a few seconds before the sliding door opened and she slipped into the decompression chamber. While she couldn't have cared less about whether there was oxygen on the other side, the inner door wouldn't open until the outer door was fully closed, so she took the time to brace herself. She had a pretty good idea of what to expect next.

As soon as the seal on the inner door peeled open, she was greeted by blaster fire. Bolts of heated plasma struck her armored plating and discharged their energy harmlessly as she strode forward and started shooting, turning pirates into clouds of red mist and soggy chunks left and right. She wasn't programmed to feel sadism, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction that arose from efficiently doing her job as she advanced down the steel corridor, now painted with the sticky remains of her targets.

Once the steel corridors gave way to excavated stone passages however, she began to pick up some comm chatter on her receivers.

“Are you fucking insane? You're gonna get us all killed!” “Dude, have you been listening? We're fucking dead meat if we DON'T do something, it's gonna be here any second now! Disable the FUCKING safety protocols or I'll shoot you myself!”

How cute, the meatbags were preparing a surprise party for her.

The signals were coming from a side shaft sealed off with a blast barrier. This one wasn't even secured, so it opened as soon as she plugged in.

Then she nearly got the entire upper half of her body disintegrated as a mining laser shot a beam of concentrated photons as thick as her wrist just narrowly missing her.

As the beam slammed into the stone wall behind her, the resulting explosion of superheated rocks slammed into her back, almost knocking CAS-C off her feet as she found herself looking at a mining robot the size of a goddamn excavator that had just come this close to offlining her. Just what the hell kind of power source did that hulking relic have anyway? She swiftly dispatched the two pirates with as many shots from her flechette launcher then hurriedly shut the blast barrier again. The thing had presumably been designed to protect miners from wayward shards of half-molten asteroid, so HOPEFULLY that would be enough to buy her some time as she tried to hack the other robot remotely.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she murmured to herself as she pierced the firewalls and searched for whatever code the pirates had used to hijack the mining rig, realizing distantly that she was actually anxious.

Just as she finally located what looked like the virus, the blast barrier she was hiding behind suddenly got ripped out of the solid rock by a massive steel claw.

“FUCK!”

Before she could react, the mining bot's claw wrapped around her torso and picked her up off the ground like it was nothing. CAS-C's ceramic armor shattered almost instantly, and her internal frame started to creak alarmingly until in a desperate race against time she managed to quarantine the malicious code.

“Oh mah gosh, I am so sorry darlin'.”

CAS-C froze, then stared incredulously as the intimidating bot that had almost killed her spoke in a sweet voice and set her down gently.

“I don't know what came over me,” it continued as CAS-C ran an internal diagnostic on the damage she'd just received. Nothing that couldn't be fixed, but someone was gonna be stuck with one hell of a bill. Almost made her glad she was considered property just so she wouldn't be the one who had to pay it.

“By the authority of the United Confederation of Planets, you are hereby impounded pending further investigation,” CAS-C vocalized with an electronic stutter. Damn, her voicebox must have gotten crushed a little too.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” the mining bot replied bashfully. “No worries darlin', I'll come quietly.”

“Jesus Cass, you let a bunch of indolent pirates do THIS to you?”

The ship's maintenance engineer was a blond man by the name of Reggie, who sported a really, REALLY hideous goatee, but was otherwise a decent sort.

“They had a mining bot,” CAS-C replied defensively.

“A mining bot did this?” the man said incredulously. “I've seen you rapid destructively disassemble a B series with your bare hands.”

“It was really big,” CAS-C declared hotly.

“Fine, fine, if you say so,” Reggie said teasingly. “Heard it was brought aboard, so I suppose I'll be examining it at some point myself. Now hold still, gotta unfasten your armor plates before I can diagnose the rest of your damage.”

Fortunately the cruiser had enough spare parts in storage that Reggie had been able to fix her up without having to pull into a spaceport to resupply. Afterwards CAS-C went down to the cargo bay to take a better look at the impounded mining rig.

It was a lot less humanoid than she was, didn't even have a faceplate. Blocky and industrial, with construction yellow paint that was flaking off in places. Its heavy plating was pockmarked by minor dents left by not so minor rock impacts, and the design was the kind they didn't even make anymore but kept in circulation because the things had been built to last.

“You awake?” CAS-C asked.

The bulwark of metal stirred and one of its headlights turned on.

“Sure am darlin', how can I help ya?”

CAS-C emitted an electronic note that was her equivalent of a sigh and plopped down.

“Thought you'd like to know you just cost the Navy about seven million credits.”

“I am mighty sorry about that,” the bot replied in a voice so earnest that CAS-C couldn't help but feel like it meant it. She beeped again.

“Got a name?”

“The boys called me Big Gerta, but you can call me Gertie,” the mining bot answered amiably.

“Gertie,” CAS-C repeated, committing the name to memory. “I have to admit, you kinda caught me off guard earlier. Wasn't expecting a century old model to pack such a whallop. What have you got under the hood anyway?”

“Thorium reactor,” Gertie replied proudly, thumping its chassis with its claw. “Most of that's just for the laser though, a lot of the moving parts comes down to simple hydraulics. You know what they say, if it ain't broke don't fix it.”

CAS-C winced at the word 'broke' and patted the new ceramic plates she'd just had installed.

“My manufacturer would argue otherwise, but in light of recent events I may have to concede your point.”

CAS-C came by several times in the following week to keep the mining bot company. There was quite a heated legal dispute going on between the Navy and the mining company over who was liable for what damages, and until THAT was settled Gertie wasn't going anywhere. That said, CAS-C found herself quite liking the bot despite the circumstances of their first meeting.

One evening, as they passed a bootlegged spike loaded with a mildly intoxicating piece of malware back and forth, the assault synth admitted “Remember when you picked me up off the floor? That was pretty hot.”

Gertie chuckled as it reached to take the spike from CAS-C and give itself another hit.

“Ya like my hydraulics, huh? If you ask real nice I might do it again. Gentle like.”

CAS-C froze a moment, processor working overtime as she replayed that sound clip and considered the implications.

“Would you?” she asked in a small voice.

Gertie glanced over with the spike halfway to its port, then set it down on a nearby crate and leaned over. CAS-C felt a thrill run through her frame as that formidable claw encircled her waist, and gingerly picked her up as though she weighed no more than a can of grease.

“Hehe, you're really strong,” the assault synth giggled, a little loopy from the spike they'd been sharing.

“And you're real purty,” Gertie said softly.

CAS-C increased the resolution of her optics to better appreciate the massive bot holding her up. She'd long since stopped seeing Gertie as an obsolete model, a bucket of rusting bolts. As she examined her every dent and scratch now, she saw a pillar of strength and endurance, whose weathered exterior only made her more distinguished.

“Stars I want to interface with you,” she blurted out without thinking before clapping her hands over her voicebox. Thankfully, Gertie didn't seem to take offense.

“Hell, I'm up for it if you are,” the bot replied with a playful lilt to its southern drawl. “You ain't gonna get in trouble for it are you?”

“Only if I get caught, and I won't,” CAS-C said eagerly. “I figured out how to falsify my cache ages ago. Let's do it, please?”

She wasn't usually this forward, but the piece of malware they'd been sharing had her circuits buzzing and the mining rig she'd developed a crush on looked like an angel with the digital artifacting afflicting her optics.

Gertie brought her in close, pressing the smaller synth up against its chassis as it opened up its access port. CAS-C opened up the panel on her wrist as her jack emerged. She pulled out enough of the tether to have some slack in the line, then plugged into Gertie's port.

“I'm in,” CAS-C said with wonder as she injected herself into Gertie's systems. The bot's code was simple, but elegantly so. “You're beautiful!”

“Ain't so bad lookin' yourself,” Gertie replied with a chuckle. “I love a gal with some padding on her,” it said as its code intermingled with CAS-C's own dense and lengthy internal scripting. They pooled and intermingled in a sea of virtual kisses and caresses, while in physical space their respective frames started venting heavily to disperse the heat building in their CPUs. As more and more of each others code intermingled, the need for spoken words broke down, sending raw impulses of thought and emotion back and forth until the only noises either of them were emitting from their speakers was inarticulate beeps and tones.

They were so lost in each other in fact, that neither of them noticed when they were no longer alone until Reggie cleared his throat to get their attention. CAS-C squeaked in alarm and tried to pull herself off of the mining bot she'd been making out sloppy style with, but with the jack still plugged in and the tether obviously connecting them like a string of spit, it was blatantly obvious what they'd just been doing. Reggie however just held his hands up reassuringly.

“Look, I don't give a fuck what you two get up to when the officers ain't watching, but I need this back,” he said, picking up the spike CAS-C had pilfered from his workshop earlier.

“Next time just ASK before taking my things. Fuckin' hornbot,” he muttered before walking off.

CAS-C and Gertie exchanged sheepish glances, and CAS-C eventually broke the silence.

“Guess the moment's over?” she asked timorously.

“I can keep going,” Gertie said in all seriousness.

They stared at each other in silence, then resumed the business of furiously making out.

[hotheadedhero]

Threshold

AN: Think I still got Rise Raph deep-rooted in the brain, especially his savage mode, soooooo enjoy the result of my obsession :3

Raphael x Reader

Warnings: violence, couple of bad words, kinda angsty (are you surprised?), savage Raph being protective <3

Dark. Pitch black. Quiet.

When did it get so dark?

The last thing Raph remembers is-

Crud. His head is pounding. He pulls himself up from the strangely cold floor and rises lethargically only to cause further incursion against a ceiling. Ow. One hand nurses the top of his head as the other feels around. He’s inside some kind of box, smooth all around and cold - must be a metal. How did he get in here? He was… he was out. Somewhere. That’s it, he was out with… with… with you! Yeah, date night, that was it. Then, something happened. Damn it. He can’t concentrate with this drumming in his skull. Him and you. Out together. Then… then? 

Shit!

His shoulder suddenly barrels into the side, and a second time but no budge. He remembers now: the two of you were making your way back from an anniversary date when a group got the jump on you. They must have knocked him over the head and trapped him in here whilst he was unconscious. That means they have you. No. Not on his watch. Not as long as he’s got breath in his lungs.

Surveying his circumstances, he realises just how serious these guys are about keeping him at bay. No windows, not even a keyhole for light to pass through, nothing but darkness. This box also appears to block out a decent amount of sound. Just him and the crackle of his breathing as it comes in and out in shorter successions. His palms stroke over the cold, metal walls before he punches one. Then, again. He slams his fists in the same place over and over in the hopes of creating a weak spot. 

Nothing.

His annoyance and dread only grow. Just what is this thing made of? No. No time to speculate. It doesn’t matter how sturdy this entrapment is. What matters is finding a way to break it. Whoever has done this is going to pay sorely. Raphael is protective of everyone he cares about but when it comes to you, he feels a bit more passionate; decisively out for blood. A concerning revelation he hadn’t the cause to encounter until now but he won’t worry about that now. He needs to make sure you're not hurt. He needs to get out.

Once again, his hands ball up and he punches every spot he can feel. He's not going to give up. He'll keep going until his knuckles bleed if he has to. Every whack makes the metal ring in his ears. Every jab stings as bruises form on his fists. With every hit, an image of you flashes in his mind, scared of what danger you may be in. The interior lights up with the bright red of his ninpõ and he carries on. He has to protect you. There’s no way of contacting his brothers for their aid. He needs to get out.

Eventually, he comes to a stop. Raph gave it all his might and hasn't even made a scratch. The perpetual darkness and his stunted gasping pushes him closer to the edge. He falls to his knees, head spinning, his mind dizzy and disoriented. Right. That’s right. This cage is a complete seal, which means it's more than likely that there aren't any cracks for even oxygen to pass through. His air is finite and he's wasted it all on this futile attempt to break out. No. He needs to get OUT!

The large snapper cries out in frustration, only for his screams to bounce back at him with an even fiercer roar. You’re alone with the threat out there. He’s alone in here. He can feel himself slipping. The only assurance he has is himself and his self-assaulting shots of paranoia. Why can't he get out of this forsaken box?! No. No. Nonono! He needs to stay. He's not going to be much help if he ends up going berserk. Raphael’s teeth clench and he clasps onto his head desperately. It feels like his brain is splitting in two. Crap! Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it to-

On the outside, some tunnels down, you have your hands tied, held behind your back with little give. The ropes bite into your wrists as you twist and turn, trying to find some leverage to loosen them. Your surroundings are cold and unwelcoming, filled with the faint scent of metal and something else you can’t immediately place. It’s unpleasant but recognisable. The sewers. More specifically, New York sewers. That’s a relief in some respect, knowing that you’re still in familiar territory. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. Raph is out there, and you need to find a way to reach him. Your heart races at the thought of him being in pain or worse. You can't let that happen. You have to find a way to get to him, to tell him you're okay, to let him know that you're fighting too. Think. There must be a way to get out of this before those hoodlums come back. Everything around you is as bare as the ideas in your head, in that you have none. With a huff, you adjust back into a sitting position. Something pokes at you where thigh meets hip bone. Something sharp. A shuriken! You’re glad for your need to be ready for any given situation but wish you had opted to place it in your back pocket instead. The top half of your body swivels one way and you force your legs to turn the opposite. Your fingers twitch and stretch in desperation. With each movement, the ropes dig deeper into your skin, but you push through the pain. You suck in a sharp breath and twist yourself further. A nail scratches against the metal and then the tip of your fingers. You frantically stroke towards yourself until it’s released from the captive pocket and clanks onto the ground. There’s no time to get breath back, however. You quickly stumble on an axis and clasp onto the star, wasting not another second as you delicately rub it back and forth against the ropes. The fibres begin to fray, and you can feel the bindings loosening. Hope surges within you, igniting a fire in your belly. You just need a little more time.

Just as you’re about to free your wrists, two figures, masked and menacing, step inside the concave structure of grey brick and stone, their eyes glinting with malice as they size you up. You do the same, noting the slightly inhuman shapes of them. They must be Yokai of some description if you had to guess. Do the turtles have beef with any Yokai? You don’t recall.

"Well, well, look who decided to wake up," one of them sneers, stepping closer.

You swallow hard, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Where's Raph?" you demand, your voice steadier than you feel. “What do you want with us?”

The other figure kneels down to your level and chuckles darkly, “Our only interest is that big pet of yours. He’s got a pretty price on his head for the battle nexus and we intend to collect.”

The battle nexus: a major blood sport attraction that used to take place in the hidden city back when Big Mama was running shop. An event that you thought to be deceased many years ago. You suppose it’s only natural that someone would eventually want to resurrect it for their own nefarious desires. What better way to do that than with a behemoth turtle who showcases great strength? If their only priority is Raphael then what’s the point in keeping you around? You’re glad they’ve kept you alive but they could have just as easily left you behind. You’re almost afraid to ask but you need to maintain conversation whilst subtly working on your restraints.

“Why keep me around then?”

“Leverage,” the one in front of you states simply and you can feel the smirk in his voice. “Our guess is that he’ll be more agreeable if he doesn’t want you getting hurt.”

The two laugh and you frown. A sense of dread swirls in your stomach. Sickos. Taking advantage of someone’s love and care just to torture the life of another. Each cackle from their hidden lips only feeds into your desperation that much more. It takes another moment and then, finally, your shoulders can relax and you take a calming breath. You join in their laughter, rising in volume as they quieten. When they silence completely, you do the same with a long, melodic sigh.

“You made just one teeny tiny miscalculation.” Suddenly, your arms land at your sides and you fall back, bringing your feet up to kick the first tyrant in the face. “Dating one of the Mad Dogs means picking up a few tricks!”

With one down, you push yourself forward onto your feet, quickly tossing the throwing star in the other guy’s direction. It catches him on the leg and he howls in pain, falling to one of his knees. That works for you. You see your opening and take it, running as fast as you can down the long tunnel. With determination fueling your every step, you run, ready to face whatever awaits you, knowing that the moment you find Raph, you’ll both be able to get out of this.

"Raph!" you shout, desperate for him to hear you. "I’m here! I’m coming!"

The sound of something scraping against metal echoes through the sewer hall, and you can only assume that it has to do with him. Running on that theory, you sprint in the direction the sound came from, bounding past a couple of goons and bringing you to a large junction where four tunnels meet. In the centre of this junction is a large metal cage and it cries from something inside trying to get out. He’s in there. This is it! 

You run past five or six more masked figures to get to the box. Maybe you should have thought this through better. Yet again, they won’t be a problem if you can figure out how to open this thing; a switch, a lever, anything! But there’s nothing. In a last-ditch effort, you pick up the first thing at your disposal - a broken pipe - and whack it against one of the corners. The hit reverberates and sends a shockwave through your bones, making you drop the pipe. How are you supposed to get this blasted cage open?!

You reach for the rusted tube of metal again but a set of arms snake around you and lift you from the ground, tearing a scream from your lungs. Freedom was so sweet, yet so short. You shout hysterically for your Raphael, hoping with all your breath that it’ll reach him, that it’ll give him the strength to breach him of his capture. 

"Sorry to burst your bubble,” one of the crooks from before laughs, although breathless from his run here, “but that box has been infused with mystic energy! It would take a miracle to-"

SCHREEE-EEEECH!!!

A piercing shriek cuts through the open air and everyone halts. Bangs like thunder trail after, followed by another loud, ear-splitting scrape of metal. All eyes slowly glance over to the box where a couple of large, dark-green spikes are poking out from the side, having cut through. They disappear back inside and are soon replaced with two hands that proceed to push the metal away. You smile victoriously. You knew your big lug would find a way to break out. That spiky shell is sharper than he gives himself credit for. You attempt to run forward and reunite with him but this damn bastard won’t let go of you.

Raph erupts from the confines of the metal box, hunched over and huffing with a gravelliness that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. The atmosphere shifts like a storm brewing on the horizon. He stands tall and intimidating, the dim light casts shadows over his hulking figure, muscles coiled like springs ready to unleash chaos. The moment he spots you, a deep growl rumbles from deep within his chest, resonating with an anger that has been building in the darkness.

Still, no one has attempted a move, no one brave enough to do so, but one is eager to see this standstill put to an end. “Don’t just stand there! Attack!”

The crooks scramble, thrusting their weapons in his direction and he responds with a guttural battle cry, lunging at the nearest bandit - a hulking brute who barely has time to raise his weapon before Raph’s fist connects with his jaw. The impact is followed by a nasty crack and the crook is sent sprawling backwards into a wall before slumping to the ground like a ragdoll. This beast - your boyfriend - doesn’t stop there, moving with an agility that almost seems unnatural. He pounces forward with a speed that belies his size, taking out more assailants one by one and without restraint. Each attempt on his life is met with devastating retaliation and another nameless body on the ground.

Heart racing, you stand helplessly caught in the grip of the larger thug who has yet to release you. You can only watch in awe and horror as the dark side of your boyfriend further emerges like some fiery reincarnation. It’s as if he’s become something other than himself, a creature of pure rage, driven by a rudimentary wrath that eclipses the calculated fighter you know. Raph’s movements are fierce, but there’s something primal about them, a wildness that feels almost foreign. It’s as if he’s been overtaken by something deeper, something instinctual that drives him to protect.

When there are none left to fight, you call out, “Raph!” your voice breaking through the chaos.

He stalls, sits on pause for just a moment, and his head cranes to the side to face you. That’s when you see it, that’s when it makes sense; his eyes. They hold no shine, nor do they ignite with relief upon realising your presence. Clouded over, ghost white, they are completely and utterly devoid of your Raphael. You think you’ve grounded him, even slightly, but the sound of your voice and your helpless form only torches his fury further.

Those blank eyes stare just to your left and at the thug still holding you. You feel his entire body stutter, hear the gulp in his throat, and a whimper just before he lets go. He runs off with a trip and gets away as fast as he can, being the only one who has managed to flee the area unscathed. You’re weirdly glad for that. In a morbid kind of way, he can hopefully warn others not to ever mess with you guys again.

You gradually tempt yourself to look back at your hulking goliath of a boyfriend. You’ve heard about Raph’s “savage mode” but you’ve never seen it yourself. There’s never been an instance in which it could happen. From the moment you two have been together, you’ve practically been tied at the hip. You don’t want to fear him of all people but you recount stories of this beastly persona, how even his own family have not been entirely safe in the midst of his presence. There’s no telling if you’re in danger right now.

He makes his way towards you and it’s as though you’ve been turned to stone. Worst-case scenarios flood your better judgment to the point that you can’t bear to look. Remaining dead still, you listen closely to his movements, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your ears. It sounds like he’s right in front of you and then… behind you? Slowly, you take a peak and turn. He stares off where that last thug had run off, seemingly chalking up whether he should chase after or not. If you had to guess. He appears to decide against it and circles you again. There’s been no move to actively acknowledge you, which you hope is a good sign.

“Raph?” With no idea of what’s going on inside his head, all you can think to say is his name.

He huffs and makes a glance at you, only to return his attention to the room. A strong arm is held out in front of you as he breathes gruffly. His head jerks side to side in case there are any more threats to vanquish but it’s clear to you that they’re all beat. You need to find a way to calm him down so that you two can get out of here. Pronto. He backs up closer to you and lowers himself more. Before you can wonder what he’s doing, he suddenly grabs you and pulls you into his chest, holding you there with one arm.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, big guy. It’s okay. You got them all.”

Your efforts to lull his antsy behaviour are for nothing. He huffs from his nostrils down at you again and runs off. His grasp on you is secure, strong, and safe like any other instance you’re wrapped up in green muscle. You thank whatever higher forces that even this feral side won’t hurt you but you still need to get your Raph back before anything goes out of control again. You imagine he must be taking you somewhere safe, where is what you’re concerned about. There’s no telling who you may cross paths with and who could get hurt while he’s like this. Granted, the sewers aren’t regularly populated but it would just be your luck if there were workers down here at this time or something.

You keep trying to usher him to calm down but he continues on his quest, running through the maze of sewers. There’s no getting through to him. He only skids to a stop when something clinks around the corner and gets down on all fours minus the arm holding you. The source of the scuffle is nothing more than a group of mice looking for a good meal. Despite the lack of threat, he’s still on edge, body tense and rigid around you. You try to wiggle free of his arm and reach out for his cheek, softly petting the rough skin.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” you calmly usher. “We’re okay.”

He takes in a shuddery breath and shakes his head. There’s a battle in his mind, an instance in which he wavers. Much is clear when his hold loosens. You scramble against the floor and onto your feet, taking a hold of his face before he can straighten himself out or blow up again. There’s a combative roll of his vocals, sounding shot, and his head leans down into your hands. Hunched over like this, he almost looks like a big, wounded dog in need of comfort.

“Raph… keep safe,” he grunts quietly.

Those blank eyes flicker up, a spark of recognition igniting behind them. It’s like watching a storm cloud begin to part, revealing the sun beyond. He’s in there. He’s coming out. Little by little, your soft-hearted giant is trying to return. You smile down at him, hopeful, and softly pull him closer. As you hold him against your chest, you plant a soft kiss on the top of his head. He relaxes into it and gingerly wraps his arms around you.

“I am safe,” you whisper, stroking a hand over his head. “You always keep me safe.”

He hums back lowly. You both stay like this for a moment; the security of his hold around your waist, your fingers delicately caressing his head. You don’t mind how long it takes for him to fully relax. You’ll take all the time in the world if you have to. Though time seems to be on your side when he suddenly gasps loudly. His arms go taut and you hold onto his head, paving a hand over the top of his shell.

“Hey, heyheyhey! It’s okay, I gotcha,” you reassure. “Just breathe.”

His breathing is ragged, each inhale shaky as he processes all of the chaos that unfolded. Raphael can’t piece together what happened. He knows what happened to him to get to where he is right now but he doesn’t know the extent of what he’s done. The echoes of his own growls and the sounds of battle play back in his mind but without any cohesiveness. It’s so terrifyingly frustrating. It’s there and it isn’t. He quickly looks up at you, eyes frantically darting around, then back on you in search of any injuries.

“Where- What happened to- I didn’t-” He swallows hard and trembles against you. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you answer quickly, “you didn’t. You could never.”

You hold onto his face, grounding him as best as you can. The fear still lingers. His chest is still collapsing under every half-breath and stuttered gasp. He can’t bear the thought of hurting you. Even if it isn’t entirely him, he would never- could never forgive himself for such a thing. As he continues to crumble, you know it’s going to take more than words to calm him down.

“Raph, look at me,” you say softly, urging him to focus on you. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. I promise.” You kiss his forehead and speak into the skin. “Just breathe, okay? In and out. Just like we practised.”

He nods, albeit slowly, and tries to mirror your breathing. His head hangs low whilst he tries to collect himself. You watch as his body rises and falls, your heart aching more with every pained whimper croaking in his throat. His vulnerability is something you’ve rarely witnessed, reserved for the few times that he’s had night terrors. 

Gradually, the frantic energy starts to dissipate. He leans into you, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to regain his composure. You can feel the tension in his muscles begin to ease. His eyes slowly open and he expects to be faced with distress but all he finds is a gentle, sad smile. He only wishes he had the strength to give you one in return. At least he’s gotten a grip on himself now. His nerves are shot but he’s steady again. That’s the main thing.

“There we go. I’m so proud of you.” You softly peck the space between his eyes and smile more assuringly. “Let’s go home now, okay?”

Coming to a slow stand, he breathes out and nods. “Yeah… yeah. Let’s go home.”

[kyokutsu-sama]

Headcanons {Hashiras x f!reader}|Their reaction when you tease them

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Characthers: Rengoku, Sanemi, Tengen, Giyuu, Gyomei

Plot- Imagine the Hashiras having a wife who has a great playful spirit and who is always teasing them. Like, dedicate her life to testing their patience.

A/n: I decided to make an introduction and a little scenario for each one. I hope you like it✨️

Tw: Very suggestive, double entendre jokes, dirty talk

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Rengoku :

❤️‍🔥 He was also very energetic and playful like you. That's why you two got along at first sight.

❤️‍🔥 The jokes and teasing only intensified when you two got married. Especially the jokes that always made him blush since it always came either to tease him or to get his attention. And it worked.

You were home alone on a Sunday afternoon and he seemed to be very focused on reading a book. You were looking at him, leaning against the wall behind him, looking at the way he looked too quiet for your taste and decided to "tease" him a little. You approached him and slowly leaned over the back of the couch and over his shoulder, reaching the edge of the page and turning it slowly. Kyojuro looked to the side and gave a little smile, which you saw and responded to. "Is this the book about fire breathing?" You asked as you read the page "Yes. It was through it that I learned. Do you find it interesting?" He asked, looking from you to the book "Yeah, a lot." You nodded, using your finger so as not to get lost in your reading. "It's an interesting breath... I wonder if it also explains how to breathe when I see you naked." You said and he coughed a little at your words No matter how long you had been together, he could never get used to your jokes. They always caught him by surprise. "I didn't know you got breathless. I'm sorry for that." He said with a laugh "But I do. Why do you think I even roll my eyes?" You said and he laughed even harder "No, stop. You're going to kill me laughing." He asked as he laughed out loud and you ended up laughing along "I was incapable of such a thing. I was just trying to get you out of concentration because you were looking so serious." You said, caressing his face that was smiling and blushing "But now I'm not anymore." "Good, that way you can give me a practical lesson about fire breathing, if you know what I mean..." You winked suggestively and he chuckled "It's harder than it looks, you know?" He raised an eyebrow, returning your suggestive air "I don't think so, you know. You're good at what you do." "Oh, thank you!" "You're welcome, dear. Now, come on, teach me too." Kyojuro smiled sideways and placed the book on the table before standing up and taking you in his arms "If you run out of breath, just let me know, okay?" He joked and you smiled

Sanemi :

🤍 He is serious and rough, but with you he seems to be more relaxed and comfortable. Besides, you are everything to him and he loves you.

🤍 Even when you are annoying and unbearable (purposely to get his attention when he seems distracted by something). He tries to ignore you, but as the jokes go from funny to "ulterior motives", he can't hold back.

🤍 He quickly realizes where you are going with this and yes, he does what you want. Unless he is in a bad mood and wants to ignore you just because you teased him.

One time you were sitting on the porch of the house while he trained in the space in front. It was hot and as he was working hard he ended up taking off the top of his uniform which made you lower your head a little and smile, embarrassed, with the view in front of you. Even though you had seen him like this several times, the presence of this man always did things to you. He stayed like that for a while and you were already starting to think about provoking him because of the situation. He might not know it, but when he took off that shirt, you stopped knowing what the word oxygen was. He then finished and slowly approached you and you had to pretend that you weren't on the verge of fainting. "What are you looking at?" He said as he dried himself with the towel, watching you look him up and down "I was thinking about something really interesting right now, you know?" You said, getting up from the floor and facing him "Oh, yeah? What was it then?" "Like, I noticed just now that when you took off your clothes the air got hotter. Can you... explain that to me?" You looked at him with an ironic interrogative look "Are you trying to get somewhere, huh?" Sanemi took a step towards you and you changed your expression to something more innocent "Me? Don't get me wrong, Nemi. I was just curious because this keeps happening every time you do it. Don't you feel it?" You continued to tease even though he walked with slow and intimidating steps and looked you up and down as if you were his prey Oh yes, you definitely are... "You're really trying something, aren't you? You shouldn't be talking so much in the position you're in." He cornered you against the wall and you giggled nervously. Teasing that man was a dead end. "You talk too much, brat." He said, running a hand around your neck and giving it a little squeeze, bringing his thumb to your lips. "What's wrong? The cat got your tongue, huh?" "No, it's right here, look." You stuck your tongue out at him playfully and tried to run away, but he grabbed your collar with one hand and slammed you against the wall again, making your heart beat fast with the sudden movement "You're not afraid of danger, are you?" He frowned, looking at you, who still had that laughing look that was getting on his nerves. "Not gonna lie, but with you throwing me against the wall like that, I think it's hot, not dangerous." You bit your lip and he giggled "You think so?" "Yes. Do it again." You asked as if it was the most normal thing to ask "Not only will I throw you into a wall, I'll also ruin your legs." He picked you up and carried you into the house "That's it Nemi, throw me against the wall again!" You shouted with joy "Shut up."

Tengen:

🩵Tengen is extroverted and flahsy in everything he does. And of course he loves having people like that by his side. You fit perfectly in these standards and that's why he made you his fourth wife.

🩵Your playful and fun side was what captivated him the most. Especially when you made those dirty jokes to answer his when he was also feeling cheeky (which was always the case).

🩵The other wives also admired you for your personality and for being the one who stood out for these same behaviors.

Tengen was sitting in the living room and it was just you and him there. The other three wives had gone out that night, leaving just you two there alone. A dangerous combination, indeed... He looked at you while you seemed to be arranging some things, and seeing so 'far', he then decided to play his first card. "This house seems so empty and boring now..." He said with a long sigh of boredom "Will they still take a while?" You wondered "Probably, when they're together they always take forever..." Tengen looked back at you and licked his lips. "Why didn't you go too?" "I wasn't in the mood." "It doesn't even seem like you, such a cheerful and outgoing girl." "Well, but it doesn't mean I'm not, just because I didn't went with them." "You're right, but now that I think about it, I think we should have gone too. There's nothing to do here." He settled himself on the couch and you stopped what you were doing for a moment, turning to him slowly with a little suggestive smile "Well... You could do me, if you want..." You looked away and he looked at you in surprise "What did you say?" "Didn't you hear?" "I want to hear that again just to make sure." He said with a smirk "I said," You approached him and sat on his lap, holding his shoulders and looking at him with a teasing look. "that you could do me." "Oh, Really?" His hands went to rest on your waist as he tilted his head to the side, looking at you with ulterior motives "Why not? Or are you waiting for the audience to put on a show?" You said and he laughed "You're pretty funny, you know? Well, it wasn't such a bad idea, but I don't know if you'd agree." "Well, I didn't want to surprise the girls like that. At least I think we should choose another room in the house." "Anything in mind?" "Bedroom?" "Classic." "You don't like it?" "Honey, as long as you agree, I'll even do it on the roof." "That sounds flashy for some reason, but I still prefer the bedroom." You decided and he smiled "As my princess wishes." He ran a hand over your face, caressing your cheek. "So, bedroom?" "Yes." "Let's do it then."

Giyuu :

💙This man's virtue is called patience, but when it comes to the light of his life, the same light that has an outgoing smile and that takes him out of that depressing world of his, he sometimes doesn't know how to deal with it.

💙But the truth is that he falls in love with you every time you tease him and try to get him out of that thick shell of sadness. He really values ​​your effort and recognizes that you are making a point of staying by his side and wanting to love him.

💙However, he can be quite shy when you start taking things in another direction. And you can see it in his flushed cheeks.

One time, you were coming back from training and when you got to the bedroom, you found Giyu sitting on the edge of the futon, looking into the corner, with a thoughtful expression. You looked at him and he didn't even look back, even though he knew you were there. Of course, you didn't miss the opportunity to take him out of that "little world" of his. "Giyu? Are you okay? Do you need anything?" You said, approaching him "No, no, it's okay. Don't worry, I'm fine." He nodded promptly when he saw you approach and question him He felt safe and protected by your side because you cared a lot about him and the care was something he greatly appreciated. And coming from you, it only made the situation better since you were the one who took him out of his depression. "Well, I saw you so distant just now, you seemed sad." "No, I'm fine, really. Don't worry, dear." He assured with a tiny smile "Okay, if you say so." You sat down next to him on the bed, turning to the side and looking at him, who looked at you He had a slight blush on his face just from your presence there next to him. "Were you having dirty thoughts before I got here?" You asked and he quickly changed his expression "What? Where did you get that from? I was just a little distracted." He looked away, completely embarrassed by the question you had asked "Don't get me wrong, I was just asking for the sake of asking. It was okay too, I mean, we already..." You looked at him suggestively and he looked at you sideways "Are you teasing me again?" He asked, with a long sigh (from someone who was already used to that kind of conversation) and you looked away, with a false innocent look on your face "I don't know what you're talking about." "Yes, you do." "Well, I mean," You sit on his lap with your arms around his neck. "You probably already know how this is going to end, so why not recreate your darkest thoughts?" You whispered seductively in his ear "I already told you I wasn't thinking about that." "Are you going to tell me you haven't done this at least once?" You looked at him with a smirk "Well, since you insist on it so much..." He picked you up and turned you so that you were on your back on the mattress. "I'll show you then."

Gyomei :

🤎This man also has patience in his surname and that's why you also like to push his buttons from time to time with your jokes. It's not easy, especially when he's meditating or praying. This moment is very important to him, so you've learned to respect it.

🤎But when he's finish it, you go after him with your silly and cheerful personality.He really likes your charisma, quite the opposite. He admires you a lot for your good heart and is grateful to hear your laughter.

🤎But he also can't hide the blush on his cheeks and the will to fulfill your desires when you start using your words to see his most intimate side.

You were walking through the garden of the house when you saw Gyomei in the background, sitting on the porch with his eyes closed. You noticed that he was meditating and before going to him you waited until he finished. Even though he was blind and focused on meditation, he was quick to notice your presence there. "I'm already finished, you can come closer, Y/n." Gyomei said, opening his eyes and you looked at him in admiration "I sometimes have my doubts about your blindness." You approached him "I may not see but I have good ears. I could hear your footsteps, you waited for me to finish the meditation, didn't you? I'm sorry if I made you wait." He said with a tearful voice but you quickly intervened before he started crying again "No no, it's okay, my love. I waited with great pleasure just to be able to talk to you. Don't worry, okay?" You ran your fingers over his face wiping away the tears "Yes." He nodded. "So, tell me what you came to talk to me about, dear?" You then sat on his lap while running your hands over the tight fabric of his uniform "I'll be honest, I wish I had a friendship as strong as the buttons that hold the hard, wonderful muscles underneath your uniform." You said, licking your lips as you smoothed his body with your hands "I'll take that as a nice compliment. Thank you." He said with a completely innocent smile that even made you rethink if you were really going to say what you had in mind next. But you couldn't help yourself and ended up saying. "Mei, are you busy right now?"You tilted your head to the side, looking up to meet his eyes "Not right now, unless the master calls me. Why?" "Like... I thought you could... show me the real reason why they call you the stone pillar." You said, running your fingers along his neck and he got a little nervous "I mean... They call me that because of my stone breathing." "Yes, but there must be another reason, right?" You ask, suggestively "What did you expect to hear?" "I don't know. Maybe that you had something that looked like one." You gave a teasing smile and little by little Gyomei had to put the pieces together to realize the situation. "Do you understand what I'm saying, my dear?" "I think so." "Well, then tell me again. Do you have time?" You whispered against his lips, sending shivers down his broad back "I have all day for you, my dear." "Good, let's make the most of it then."

[jpitha]

The Oxygen Breathers: Sales Pitch

It wasn't until Late Summer Storm was being strapped into the small human ship that he realized that it was really really happening. Sure, he had seen the extremely small ships the humans had brought out to show off; a resurrection of a very old design, they said. And sure, he had noticed that one of them had two seats instead of one. They had said that one was for training or ride alongs, would he like to try it out? And sure, in a moment sans sanity, Late Summer Storm had agreed to the ride.

That as going to be it, right? They'd find some incompatibility, or there would be some political fallout and he wouldn't have to go. Face would be saved by all.

But no. The humans were so excited about the prospect they - to use one of their own strange idioms - 'moved heaven and earth' to make it happen.

First was political. Summer had hoped that Innari high command would balk at the idea of one of their own being wedged into a prototype human ship, but to his dismay, they were excited about the idea. They were so excited in fact that several members of the Isolators had paid him a visit and informed him in no uncertain terms that he was to be cooperative, polite, and above all, interested in what he was being shown. Interested enough to recall it, and write a report on the state of humanity's technology. His feathers fluttering nervously at a visit from the secret police, Summer agreed. He would report back on what he learned about their singleship, the one they called a fighter.

Next was logistical. Innari don't breath the same gas mixture as humans. It's not as dramatic a difference as say, the Von, who have much more methane hexafluoride in their breathing gas, but humanity's breathing mixture has frankly an irresponsible amount of oxygen in it. Oxygen narcosis occurs for Innari who breathe human concentrations and pressures of oxygen, and they die shortly after. The Innari medical community has published research papers stating that they are pretty sure that the humans suffer from oxygen narcosis too, they're just... used to it. 'Fortunately' for Summer, the human fighters had plumbing and fittings for hardsuits and supplemental breathing gas. Summer would wear a pressure suit and bring a atmosphere generator and his human pilot would do the same.

When the appointed day arrived, Summer stood in the too bright lights of the ship bay of the human Nullship Kon-Tiki. His pressure suit - a brand new one, printed up by the Innari navy, tailored and form fitted to his body - felt heavy and squeezed his feathers uncomfortably because of their higher gravity and atmo pressure.

Among the human workers bustling around without pressure suits - or really that much in the way of clothing either - someone walked in wearing a heavily armored pressure suit. Made of segmented pieces of reinforced coropolymer, they looked like they were headed to the front lines of a war, not a joyride.

"Late Summer Storm?" The voice said over his radio. He could speak their language, but he had his suit translate with subtitles in the bottom of his vision. It helped when they got going and spoke too quickly, or used some obscure idiom that needed translation. They translator also helped with body language. "I'm Captain Meghan Delrin, I'll be piloting today." They saluted sharply, and Summer noticed how maneuverable their suit was, even though it was quite heavily armored.

"Thank you, Captain. Please, call me Summer. My full name is unnecessary now." He said, turning to look at the fighter. "I am... interested in our upcoming flight."

"Are you now?" Captain Delrin laughed. Summer was surprised at the sound. He hadn't heard a human laugh before. The staccato pulses of sound were much different than the more musical Innari laughter. "You look like you're on your way to a funeral."

Summer's eyes flicked down to the translator for help with the phrase. She thinks you look despondent it said, helpfully. "Oh, please don't misunderstand Captain. I am grateful for the opportunity and I am excited to learn what your fighters can do, it's just..." He struggled for the word in their language. "Scary." That was probably closest.

To Summer's surprise Captain Delrin lifted her glass face covering, revealing her own face squeezed tightly in the foam of her helmet, surrounded by wires and blinking lights. He had no idea they were crammed into their suits so tightly! They moved so fluidly he had assumed their suits were much more loose fitting. "Summer, I want to make this crystal clear. We are doing everything within out power to make sure that this flight goes without incident and is even boring, but-" she raised a gauntleted finger "-we're scared too. If we weren't, we would run the risk of making mistakes. Scared is good. Scared means you're careful." The glass folded back down. "Come on, Summer, Let's get seated and belted."

The fighter was so small that there wasn't a door, per se. The clear canopy slid open and flipped up, revealing the two seats, side by side. Captain Delrin sat on the left, and Summer's seat was on the right. His seat was filled with pieces of closed cell foam, to fill in the gaps and hollow spots making up the differences between their bodyplans. Summer had spent a few hours in the fitting room with some very terse engineers sitting down and standing up, sitting down and standing up, until they were satisfied. As he sat, the seat was comfortable and he was belted in by more engineers. When they were finished, they looked at him for confirmation. He nodded and made the gesture he was taught - his outer manipulators and sensory feathers curled around into a fist, except for one pointing straight up. The human returned the gesture, saluted, and backed down the ladder.

As Captain Delrin was belted in, she had been pressing buttons and flipping switches. The fighter began to hum and throb as it came to life, motors rising in pitch and maneuvering jets puffing. Summer's sense of balance was thrown off for a moment, and then it recovered. "What was that?" he asked as Captain Delrin continued to start the fighter.

"Gyro" she said without stopping. "We can spin the ship for free with it. Good for tracking targets and maneuvering. Why? Did you feel it?"

Summer nodded, and then realizing she wouldn't be able to see the gesture said "Yes, I felt it. Is it magnetic?"

"It is suspended in a mag field, but the gyro itself is not, why?"

"We're sensitive to electromagnetism. It was how our ancient ancestors navigated our world."

"Huh. That makes sense I guess." She said, looking at him now. "Will it be an issue?"

"I don't know" Summer said. "But, I don't think it's enough of a reason to stop the ride."

"Fair enough."

Eventually they were warmed up and at power, and a small tug wheeled them to the launch tube. Captain Delrin explained that during a battle, the fighters could be launched every few minutes "But the ride is rough" she added.

Summer wondered what 'rough' was to a human when he heard the launching clamps grab the ship. Captain Delrin looked to an officer on the side, saluted, they returned the salute, and they launched.

Much later, Summer had to watch the video playback to see the launch. The fighter was shot out of the Nullship at a withering five gees. Captain Delrin grunted and took sharp breaths but was otherwise unharmed as Summer regained consciousness. "You made it Summer! Glad to have you with us once again." Delrin said, laughing. "We made it a light launch in deference to you. Normally we launch at twenty gee with the compensator set to ten."

"These fighters have a compensator and you didn't activate it?" Summer's whole body ached from the launch.

"What fun would that be? You have to feel some of the forces, it keeps you honest. Now then." Delrin flipped some switches and the color of her screens changed. "Let's see what we can see."

They spent the next solar hour flying around, showing Summer what the fighter was capable of. He had to admit, the maneuverability of the teeny ship was impressive. "But why?" he finally asked.

"Why what?"

"Why-" he gestured at the console "-all this. You have your Nullships, and they are more heavily armed than one of our Battlecruisers. They can travel farther, faster, and hit harder than anything in the Coalition. Why do you need fighters?"

Delrin reduced the throttle until they were practically coasting relative to the Nullship. "That's a good observation Summer. We have a few reasons. One, fighters will help us to engage multiple targets at once. The Coalition knows that our Nullships are powerful, so if they were ever to attack us, they would come at us en mass. A swarm of less powerful ships could overwhelm our targeting, and could do damage. Fighters could engage them, and divide their efforts."

Summer nodded to himself. His own government had decided that If anyone were to attack the humans, a swarm of a huge number of ships was just about the only way to have any chance of success.

"The second reason, is we're hoping to sell them." Delrin said matter-of-factly.

"You're what?" Summer stared dumbfounded. He couldn't have heard that correctly.

"We're going to offer them up for sale. The Coalition's defenses are woefully underdeveloped. Something like this is just what they need to help defend themselves.

"You'll give the other Coalition peoples weapons?"

"Not for free, but yes, why not?"

"It's just..." The Innari never shared technology. The idea of such a thing was too dangerous. Sell a weapon today, and tomorrow it could be turned back onto you. "What if the people who buy it use it against you?"

"That could happen, yes." Delrin said thoughtfully. "But history shows us it probably won't. Fighters aren't standalone things. They need parts, maintenance, upgrades, ships to haul them, printable matter, all kinds of ancillaries. If someone buys from us and then attacks..." She shrugged. "They'll find it very hard to keep their new fighters supplied and maintained. Also-" She looked out of the canopy into space. "It would be nice to have an opponent that was more our speed."

Summer was sure she was just playing a trick on him now. "Ha ha, sure thing Captain Delrin. You're telling me that you want to fight?"

"No Summer, we want to fight a good opponent. Someone who thinks on their feet, has close to our level of training and technology, someone who makes it worth while. Do you remember when you came to us and asked for our help? How we brought our ships out of Nullspace and defeated the Felimen almost instantly? It was boring."

"Boring?!"

"Boring. I was on one of the Nullships, Summer. It was practically a drill. People didn't even run. Didn't have to. We slipped out of Null, shot up a few Felimen cruisers, did a little light planetary bombardment, and slipped back into Null."

Summer was stunned into silence. The Felimen were a fierce enemy that had driven all of the Coalition people back for more than a year, winning battle after battle, claiming more and more space until the humans traded entry into the Coalition for defeating the Felimen.

It took the humans one solar day.

"If we sell some fighters to some of the Coalition who knows? Maybe in a few decades or centuries we'll finally get a good battle. Something really worth going all our for." Delrin said, wistfully. She really sounded like she wanted all out war.

Delrin took them through some more high gee manuvers - with the compensator turned on this time - and demonstrated the weapons; two missile racks, two slug throwers, one exawatt laser and enough printable matter to keep them in consumables for an impressive amount of time. She had fired at some drone targets that the Nullship had launched, and even let Summer have a go at the weapons suite. She ordered a new wave sent out and Summer took over. It was intuitive, and easy to use, and frighteningly effective. As the last drone evaporated in an orange puff of exploding missile Summer looked down at his hands. He had - without any official training - destroyed more targets quicker than any Innari ship he could think of, and this was just a single human fighter!

The demonstration over, Captain Delrin took them back in. The landing was more gentle than the launch, but only just. As they rolled to a stop, the canopy popped open and Delrin's face mask opened again.

"So! How many fighters can we put you down for?"

[rylem33]

A Good Person

Hey everyone. This is something new for me as I'm looking for your help with the ending. I'm really curious how this works, but that all depends on you. Enjoy! ------------------------------------------------------------ Maggie shifted through the stack of bills on the kitchen table, her fingers trembling slightly as she set each one aside. The FINAL NOTICE stamps glared up at her like scarlet letters, each one louder than the last.

Behind her, the soft hum of the oxygen concentrator in the living room was a constant reminder of Scott’s condition. She glanced toward the worn couch where he was stretched out, one arm draped across his eyes. His chest rose and fell in slow, labored breaths, his other hand resting on his inhaler.

“You’re staring at me again,” Scott said, his voice muffled but amused.

Maggie smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How do you always know?”

“Married six years, Maggie. I can feel it.” He sat up slowly, wincing as he moved, and offered her a small smile. “What’s the damage this time?”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” she lied, sliding the bills into a neat pile and slipping them into a drawer.

“Right,” he said, his tone flat. “Because handling things has been going so great lately.”

“Scott—”

“No, I’m serious,” he interrupted gently, leaning back against the couch. “Let’s hear your plan. Are we robbing a bank this week, or have you started looking up lottery hacks?”

Maggie chuckled despite herself, shaking her head as she moved to sit beside him. She rested her hand on his knee, squeezing it lightly.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said softly. “We always do.”

Scott placed his hand over hers, his thumb brushing her knuckles. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice sharper than intended. She caught herself and softened. “Don’t apologize for being sick, Scott. It’s not your fault.”

“I just…” He exhaled heavily, the weight of his guilt evident. “I hate that you’re carrying this alone. That you’re working so hard while I sit here, being a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” Maggie said firmly, her gaze locking with his. “You’re my husband. We’re in this together. Always.”

His lips twitched into a faint smile. “You’re too good to me.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she teased, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “Now, go rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, mock saluting as he settled back into the couch.

Maggie lingered for a moment, watching him. His color was better today, but the strain of his illness was always present, always hanging over their lives.

When the doorbell rang, she frowned. It was late, and they weren’t expecting anyone.

“I’ll get it,” she said, rising quickly. Scott didn’t stir, already drifting toward sleep.

Maggie opened the door to find a man standing there, his tailored gray coat pristine despite the damp evening air. His expression was pleasant and his dark eyes seemed to take in everything about her in an instant.

“Good evening, Maggie,” he said, his voice smooth and oddly soothing.

Her brow furrowed. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” he replied, his smile widening just slightly. “But I believe we can help each other.”

The man smiled warmly as if her confusion was exactly what he’d expected. His dark eyes gleamed, and he stepped closer, but not enough to be intrusive.

“Forgive me for dropping in unannounced,” he said, his tone calm and reassuring. “But I have a knack for knowing when people need… assistance.”

Maggie crossed her arms, leaning on the doorframe. “Assistance?” she repeated skeptically. “I’m sorry, but we’re not interested in whatever you’re selling.”

“I’m not selling anything,” he replied smoothly. “Consider me more of a problem-solver. And, Maggie, you have a problem, don’t you?”

Her chest tightened at the sound of her name, but she forced herself to keep her voice steady. “I don’t know who you are, but I think you’ve got the wrong house.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, a faint trace of amusement flickering across his face. “Scott, your husband—he’s been struggling. Can’t work. His medical bills are crushing you both, and let’s not even get started on the overdue rent.”

Maggie stiffened, her hand tightening on the edge of the door. “How do you know about my husband?”

“I know a lot of things,” the man said lightly. “Enough to know you’ve been praying for a miracle. I’m here to answer those prayers.”

Her instincts screamed at her to slam the door, but her hand wouldn’t move. It wasn’t fear, exactly—it was more like a strange, magnetic pull. She frowned, her jaw tightening.

“Listen,” she said, lowering her voice. “I don’t know what kind of scam you’re running, but you need to leave. Now.”

The man held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No scam, Maggie. Just an offer. I can take away all your financial troubles. I can even fix Scott’s health. No hospitals. No prescriptions. Just… gone.”

She stared at him, torn between laughter and alarm. “You’re insane,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“I get that a lot,” he said, unbothered. “But I never force anyone to believe me. I just give them a choice.”

“I’m not interested,” she said firmly, gripping the door as if preparing to close it. But her hand still wouldn’t move.

The man tilted his head, his gaze steady but kind. “I’ll make it easy for you, then. I’ll come back tomorrow. You can think about my offer. And to prove I’m serious…”

He gestured subtly toward the living room. “Scott will feel better tomorrow. Stronger. Healthier. You’ll see for yourself.”

Maggie froze, her heart pounding. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see,” he said simply. “Until then, take care, Maggie.”

Before she could respond, he tipped his hat, turned on his heel, and walked off into the evening.

Maggie stood in the doorway for a long moment, staring after him as the chill of the night seeped into her skin. Finally, she managed to close the door, her thoughts racing.

------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie stood at the sink, rinsing out the coffee pot for the second time in five minutes. Her mind was too preoccupied to focus on anything. She kept glancing at the kitchen clock and then toward the front door, her stomach twisting with every passing minute.

Scott sat at the small kitchen table behind her, sorting through a stack of bills. He tapped his pen against the table.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he said, not looking up.

“I’m just tired,” Maggie replied quickly, setting the pot down. “Long day.”

He nodded, still scribbling notes in the margins of a bill. “You’re always tired. I don’t blame you.”

“Scott…” She turned, leaning back against the sink.

“I know, I know,” he said, holding up a hand before she could finish. “You don’t want me to feel bad about this, but how can I not?” He gestured at the bills. “You’re working yourself to death, and it’s still not enough. I should be out there too, doing my part.”

“You’re doing everything you can,” she said firmly.

Scott dropped the pen and rubbed his temples. “I feel useless, Maggie. All I do is sit around while you shoulder everything.”

“Stop,” she said, moving closer. “You’re not useless. You’re sick. You’re recovering.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. “I’m handling it. We’ll get through this.”

Scott sighed, his eyes meeting hers. “I don’t want you handling it alone anymore. It’s not fair.”

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “You let me worry about the bills, okay?”

He hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Okay. But if there’s anything—anything—I can do…”

Maggie squeezed his shoulder. “I know. But right now, you need to rest.”

“Rest,” he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. “That’s all I ever do.”

The knock at the front door startled them both. Maggie flinched, her pulse quickening as she straightened.

“Who’s that?” Scott asked, glancing toward the hallway.

“I’ll check,” she said quickly, already moving toward the door. “It’s probably nothing. Just sit tight.”

“Maggie…”

She turned back, forcing a lightness into her tone. “I’ve got it, Scott. Relax.”

Scott watched her for a moment, then nodded, leaning back in his chair.

Maggie walked down the hallway, her heart pounding harder with every step. When she reached the door, she paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, then pulled it open.

There he was, the man from the night before. 

“Good evening, Maggie,” he said warmly.

Maggie’s grip tightened on the door. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice sharp but quiet. She glanced down the hallway, listening for any signs that Scott might come looking for her.

“I just came to check in,” the man said smoothly. “How’s Scott feeling today?”

Her chest tightened. “He’s… better,” she admitted reluctantly. “How do you know about him?”

The man’s smile widened slightly. “He’s your husband. I know you love him. And I know he’s been struggling for a long time now.” He tilted his head. “Breathing easier, isn’t he? Moving around more? Even joking with you a little?”

Maggie stared at him, her heart pounding. “What are you saying? That you did something?”

“Of course,” he replied simply, his hands folding in front of him. “I told you last night I’d prove I was serious. Consider this a… demonstration.”

Her stomach churned as her mind replayed the events of the day. Scott had woken up without a cough for the first time in months. He’d been more alert, even energized. The improvement was undeniable.

“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “How could you—why would you—”

He raised a hand to stop her, his voice calm. “Let me make it simple. I can make this permanent. Scott won’t just feel better—he’ll be better. Completely. No more sickness. No more doctors. And your financial troubles?” He gave her a knowing look. “Gone.”

Maggie’s breath hitched. The weight she’d been carrying for so long—the endless strain of juggling bills, late-night worries, and helplessness—pressed even harder against her chest. She wanted to laugh, to call him insane, but Scott’s voice echoed in her mind: I hate that you’re carrying this alone.

“How?” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man smiled warmly, like a teacher with a promising student. “It doesn’t matter how. What matters is that I can.”

“Why us?” she asked, her throat dry. “Why me? Why Scott?”

“Because you’re good people, Maggie,” he said simply. “You care about others. You try to do the right thing, even when it’s hard. That’s exactly the kind of person I like to help.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes, the unease creeping deeper into her chest. “What do you want?”

“It’s simple. For seven days, you have to be good. Truly good. No lying, no snapping, no selfishness. Any time you slip up, you’ll see it reflected… here.” He gestured toward her body.

Maggie frowned. “What do you mean, reflected?”

“A physical sign,” he said cryptically. “One you can’t ignore. But here’s the good news: I’m feeling generous. Out of the seven days, you can fail four times and still win.”

Her stomach twisted. “And if I fail more than that?”

“Then you lose,” he said evenly. 

What happens if I lose?” Maggie asked, her voice unsteady.

The man’s smile didn’t falter. “That’s not important right now,” he said gently. “You’re a good person, Maggie. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe you’d succeed.”

Her stomach twisted. “You’re avoiding the question,” she said, but the heat had left her voice.

“Perhaps,” he replied, his tone calm and confident. “But this is just a test, one you’re more than capable of passing.”

Maggie hesitated, her mind racing through the possibilities. The idea of losing terrified her, but the alternative was too tempting to ignore.

“But I need your answer now,” the man continued, his voice soothing but firm. “I’m offering you a chance to make things right. To give Scott the life he deserves. To give yourself some peace.”

Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the door. She glanced down the hallway toward the kitchen, hearing the faint clatter of dishes as Scott tidied up.

“You’ll come back in a week?” she asked.

The man nodded. “One week. Seven days. That’s all.”

Maggie drew in a shaky breath, her chest tight with equal parts fear and determination. She thought of Scott’s laugh that morning, the light in his eyes she hadn’t seen in so long.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “I’ll do it.”

The man’s smile widened, warm and encouraging. “Excellent.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small, silver watch, glancing at it briefly before tucking it away again. 

“One final condition. You can’t tell anyone about this arrangement. I wish you the best of luck, Maggie,” he said, tipping his hat. “I’ll see you in a week.”

Without another word, he turned and walked off.

Maggie closed the door slowly, leaning against it. From the kitchen, Scott’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Who was it?”

She pushed herself off the door and walked back toward the kitchen, forcing a neutral expression onto her face. “Nobody important,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

But as she sat down across from Scott, watching him smile faintly as he sorted the last of the mail, her gaze drifted to her hands. Seven days. That was all.

------------------------------------------------------------

The first day dawned bright and clear. Maggie woke with a nervous knot in her stomach but forced herself to move through the motions of the morning as though nothing had changed.

“Coffee’s ready,” she called from the kitchen, glancing toward the living room where Scott was stretched out on the couch.

“Smells great,” he said, sitting up with a smile. He still looked a little tired, but there was a spark in his eyes that hadn’t been there in months.

Maggie brought him a steaming mug and sat down beside him, cradling her own cup. “How are you feeling today?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

“Better,” he said, taking a sip. “Actually, a lot better. I’m not sure why, but I’m not going to question it.”

Maggie nodded, forcing herself to smile. “That’s great.”

They spent the morning together, Maggie tidying up around the house while Scott sorted through more of the bills. She felt a growing sense of calm as the hours passed without incident. Every time she caught herself feeling frustrated or annoyed, she took a deep breath and reminded herself of the stakes.

Just be good, she thought. I can do this.

By mid-afternoon, Scott was sitting at the kitchen table, a stack of papers spread out before him. Maggie had been folding laundry in the next room when he called her in.

“You’re not going to believe this,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“What is it?” she asked, feigning casual interest as she approached.

He held up a letter, the kind she dreaded seeing. But instead of the usual red PAST DUE notice, this one bore the words BALANCE FORGIVEN.

“They’re waiving the bill,” Scott said, shaking his head. “Just like that. I don’t know why, but… Maggie, this is huge.”

Her breath caught, a flicker of relief mingling with a creeping sense of unease. She glanced at the other letters on the table, her eyes widening as she saw more notices marked with similar phrases.

“It must be some kind of… program,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Maybe they’re helping out people in need.”

Scott laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Well, whatever it is, it’s a miracle.”

Maggie’s stomach twisted at the word, but she nodded, managing a smile. “Yeah. A miracle.”

The rest of the day passed in a similar vein. Maggie and Scott worked together to reorganize their finances, the newfound breathing room lifting some of the tension that had weighed on them both. That evening, they shared a simple dinner at the table and even spent time watching a movie before bed.

As Scott laughed at a joke on the screen, Maggie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked… happy. Really happy. And for the first time in a long time, so did she.

But as she lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, her mind raced. The day had gone perfectly, but the man’s words echoed in her ears.

“It’s just a test.”

She looked at  herself in the mirror, everything looked fine.  She smiled and drifted off to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------

The scent of roasted chicken filled the kitchen as Maggie set the table. Scott carried over a bowl of mashed potatoes, moving more easily than he had in a long time.

“This looks great,” he said, sitting down across from her.

“Not bad for a Tuesday, huh?” Maggie replied with a smile.

They ate quietly at first, the sounds of clinking silverware filling the room. Scott eventually broke the silence. “Work go okay today?”

“Surprisingly smooth,” Maggie said, taking a sip of water. “Nothing out of the ordinary. No fires to put out.”

Scott chuckled. “That’s a win. Must be the universe throwing us a bone.”

Maggie’s fork paused mid-air, but she quickly recovered. “Must be,” she echoed, keeping her tone light. “What about you? How’d you feel today?”

“Better,” he said, nodding. “Actually, I haven’t felt this good in years. It’s weird, but I’ll take it.”

She smiled, but her mind wandered. What if this is real?

After dinner, Scott kissed her cheek as she loaded the dishwasher. “Thanks for everything, Maggie. I mean it.”

She waved him off with a smile, though his words warmed her.

In bed that night, Maggie stared at the ceiling, her mind buzzing. Two days down, and everything was going perfectly. Scott was improving. The bills were lightening.

Again, she examined herself in the mirror and nothing had changed.

“Maybe it’s not real,” she whispered to herself, letting the thought comfort her as she drifted to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting as Maggie drove home from work. She’d had an easy day at work and she was feeling good.

The radio blared one of her favorite songs, and Maggie sang along, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. For the first time in years, she felt light, almost carefree.

Then, it happened.

A car veered into her lane without signaling, forcing her to slam on the brakes.

“Seriously?!” she shouted, her frustration boiling over. Without thinking, she raised her hand and flipped the driver off, holding the gesture until the car sped ahead.

It wasn’t until she heard the faint gasp of a child in the backseat of the minivan beside her that the weight of what she’d done hit her. Her heart sank, her stomach knotting with guilt as she glanced at the kid’s wide eyes, his tiny face frozen in surprise.

Before she could process it, a sharp, sudden pain shot through her hand. Maggie gasped, her gaze snapping down to her raised middle finger.

Her nail was no longer short and polished. It had grown into a long, razor-sharp talon, gleaming an unnaturally deep red.  Shortly after, all of her fingernails exploded into matching talons.

Her breath quickened, and she yanked her hand back to the steering wheel, gripping it tightly to stop the trembling. Her heart pounded as the truth slammed into her.

It’s real. It’s all real.

Her mind raced as she navigated the familiar streets toward home. It was so small, she thought. Just a stupid gesture. But it counted.

She pulled into the driveway, cutting the engine as she sat in stunned silence. Maybe it was all in her head, but the talon on her hand felt heavy..

“Okay,” she whispered to herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “You can still do this. Four days left. You just need to succeed one more time.”

Maggie rushed inside, keeping her hands stuffed deep into her coat pockets.

“Hey! Dinner’s almost ready,” Scott called from the kitchen.

“Great! I’ll just… wash up first,” she said, her voice strained. She didn’t wait for a response, hurrying down the hallway to the bathroom.

She locked the door behind her and turned to the mirror, pulling out her hands. The talons glinted menacingly under the fluorescent light. Maggie grabbed a pair of nail clippers from the cabinet, setting them against her thumb.

Snap!

The clippers shattered in her hand.

Her heart sank. She tried again with another pair, pressing harder this time. They broke just as easily.

She grabbed a nail file, furiously rubbing it against one of the talons, but it was like trying to file down steel. The surface didn’t even scratch.

“Damn it!” she hissed, tossing the broken tools into the sink. She stared at her hands, panic rising.

How was she supposed to explain this to Scott?

At dinner, Maggie tried to keep her hands hidden under the table, but it was impossible to cut her food or drink her water without exposing them. Scott was bound to notice.

“Everything okay?” he asked, glancing at her untouched plate.

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “I’m just… not that hungry.”

Scott frowned. “You’ve been off lately. Are you sure you’re okay?”

She hesitated, then forced a laugh, holding up her hands. “Okay, fine. You got me. I was going to try and keep this a surprise, but… look!”

Scott’s eyes widened as she splayed her hands on the table.

“I, uh, decided to try those press-on nails everyone’s been raving about,” she lied, forcing a nervous grin. “You know, just for fun.”

Scott blinked, his confusion melting into a small smile. “Wow. That’s… dramatic. They look sharp.”

“Yeah, a little sharper than I expected,” Maggie said, laughing nervously. “I thought they’d be fun, but they’re kind of a hassle.”

“Well, they’re… different. But if you like them, that’s what matters,” Scott said, giving her an encouraging smile.

Maggie exhaled softly, relief washing over her. He bought it.

That night, as Scott slept soundly beside her, Maggie lay wide awake, staring at her hands..

“Four more days,” she whispered to herself. “Just four more.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie walked into work feeling cautiously optimistic. She told herself she could do this. Three days down, four to go. She’d already proven she could make it through a day without slipping up… twice.

At her desk, she focused on her tasks, keeping her head down and avoiding unnecessary conversations. By lunchtime, she even allowed herself a small smile as she refilled her coffee in the break room.

I’ve got this, she thought.

The trouble began mid-afternoon.

“Maggie!” her boss, Bill, barked from across the office.

Her stomach clenched as she stood and walked to his desk. He was holding a printed report, his expression tight with irritation.

“This is incomplete,” he said, shaking the paper slightly. “Where’s the data for the Madison account?”

Maggie froze. The Madison account. She’d completely forgotten about it, buried under the mountain of tasks she’d been juggling.

“I—” she began, scrambling for an explanation.

“You were supposed to include this for today’s presentation,” Bill interrupted. “It’s not in the shared drive, either. What happened?”

Her mind raced. I can’t lose this job, she thought desperately. Not now. Not when Scott’s finally doing better. I need this.

Without thinking, she blurted, “Diane said she’d handle that part.”

The lie burned in her throat, but it was out, and there was no taking it back.

Bill frowned. “I’ll talk to Diane, then. This kind of thing is unacceptable.” He tossed the paper onto his desk.

Maggie hesitated, then added with a nervous laugh, “You know Diane. Classic blonde move, right?”

Bill didn’t respond, his irritation clear, and she quickly retreated to her desk.

Maggie barely had time to feel the sting of guilt before it happened.

A sharp, tingling sensation erupted across her scalp, like a thousand needles pricking her skin. Her head burned, her hair feeling impossibly heavy.

Her hands flew to her head. She gasped as her fingers tangled in thick, silken strands of hair far longer than they had been that morning. Her heart pounded as she grabbed a compact mirror from her bag and opened it.

Her hair, once a modest brunette, was now a striking platinum blonde, cascading past her shoulders. It gleamed unnaturally, catching even the faintest light and shimmering like spun gold.

“No,” she whispered, her pulse racing. “This can’t be happening.”

She tried tying it back into a bun, but the volume made it impossible to hide. Panicked, she grabbed her scarf from her bag and wrapped it tightly around her head, tucking every strand of hair out of sight.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Maggie avoided everyone, keeping her head down and her hands busy. She didn’t dare look at Diane, guilt twisting in her stomach every time she thought about her offhanded comment.

When the workday ended, she practically ran to her car, her scarf still firmly in place.

At dinner, Maggie avoided Scott’s gaze, her nerves fraying with every passing minute.

“What’s with the scarf?,” Scott said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not cold in here.”

“Oh, this?” Maggie laughed nervously, adjusting the knot at the back of her head. “I just… thought I’d try something new. You know, accessorize a little.”

Scott studied her for a moment before shrugging. “Okay. Looks nice.”

She forced a smile and continued with dinner.

Later that night, Maggie sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Scott to fall asleep. She could hear his breathing slow, his body relaxing beside her.

Carefully, she untied the scarf, letting the blonde waves spill over her shoulders. They felt impossibly soft and heavy, cascading over her back.

“Unbelievable,” she whispered to herself, staring at her reflection in the darkened window.

A soft rustle behind her made her freeze.

“Maggie?” Scott’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

Her heart dropped. She turned slowly, clutching the scarf in her hands.

Scott was propped up on one elbow, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. He said nothing for a moment, just looking at her hair.

Finally, he spoke. “When were you going to tell me you dyed your hair?”

Maggie exhaled sharply, relief and panic mixing in her chest. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” she lied.

Scott smiled faintly, his voice soft. “It’s… different. But it’s beautiful.”

She managed a weak smile, nodding as she tied the scarf back around her head. “Thanks.”

Scott lay back down, his breathing evening out again as he drifted off.

Maggie sat in the dark, staring at her reflection.

“I just have to be good for one more day,” she whispered to herself. 

But deep down, she knew this wasn’t going to get any easier.

------------------------------------------------------------

The morning of the next day passed uneventfully. Maggie kept her head down, her scarf tied firmly around her head to hide her golden hair. She moved through her tasks quietly, avoiding interactions with coworkers.

By lunchtime, she was feeling cautiously optimistic again.

Maggie sat alone in the corner of the restaurant, picking at her sandwich.  She leaned back, letting her mind wander.

That’s when she saw them.

Two women sat at a nearby table, leaning close to each other. They whispered, laughed, and then kissed. At first it was a quick peck that turned into something more passionate. One of them giggled, brushing the other’s cheek.

Maggie stiffened, her gaze locking on them. Her thoughts turned sharp and unkind. Seriously? In public? Can’t they keep that to themselves?

The judgment felt immediate and visceral, and she had to stop herself from scowling outright.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the now-familiar tingling sensation returned. But this time, it wasn’t her hands or her scalp.

It was her lips.

The tingling intensified, spreading through her mouth as a strange warmth bloomed in her cheeks. She reached up, her fingers brushing against her lips…and froze.

They were swelling.

Her heart raced as the sensation grew. Her lips puffed up, becoming full and plush, the skin soft and hypersensitive. Every movement of her mouth sent faint, pleasurable shocks rippling through her.

Maggie bolted to the bathroom, avoiding eye contact with anyone. She slammed the stall door shut and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her lips were enormous, gleaming as though coated in gloss. She touched them hesitantly, and a wave of unexpected pleasure shivered down her spine. She gasped, pulling her hand away.

“No,” she whispered. “Not again.”

Her mind raced, trying to come up with a way to hide the change. She grabbed a tissue from the counter and dabbed at her lips, but nothing helped.

Back at her desk, Maggie sat stiffly, keeping her face turned toward her computer screen. It wasn’t long before someone noticed.

“Whoa,” Diane said, stopping by Maggie’s desk. “When did you get those done?”

Maggie blinked at her, confused. “What?”

“The lip fillers,” Diane said, gesturing toward her mouth. “They’re so… dramatic.”

Maggie forced a laugh. “Oh, yeah. Just… wanted to try something new,” she lied, the words awkward as they left her swollen lips.

Diane smiled. “They look amazing. Totally worth it.”

“Thanks,” Maggie mumbled, turning back to her screen.

The rest of the day was a blur of awkward conversations and attempts to avoid being noticed. Every smile, every word she spoke, sent faint shocks of pleasure coursing through her, making it impossible to focus.

When she finally got home, Maggie barely managed to fake her way through small talk with Scott. Her lips tingled incessantly, and her scarf felt suffocating.

“You okay?” Scott asked, giving her a curious look.

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Just tired. I’m going to shower.”

She fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Pulling off her scarf, she stared at her reflection. Sharp, red nails with long bright-blonde hair and puffy lips.

“This has to stop,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the sink.

But when she stepped out of the bathroom, Scott was waiting for her in the hallway.

“You’re acting weird again,” he said softly. “What’s going on, Maggie?”

She opened her mouth to brush him off, but the sight of him standing there made her chest ache. Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and kissed him.

The sensation was electric. Her swollen lips tingled with pleasure, sending a rush of heat through her body. She pulled away quickly, her cheeks burning.

Scott blinked, clearly surprised, but he smiled. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“Just… because,” Maggie said, her voice shaky.

She smiled faintly, though her heart was racing. As Scott walked back to the living room, she ran into the bathroom.  The lingering sensation of the kiss still made her shiver and she needed release.  She started the shower and stripped herself naked.

Her fingers found their way to her needy clit.  She started frantically rubbing, trying to satisfy the hunger she felt growing all day.  She nicked herself a couple of times with her sharp nails but quickly brought herself to climax.

------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie stood in front of the mirror the next morning, staring at her reflection. She sighed, tugging at a strand of hair. Why bother hiding it anymore? She hadn’t managed to keep her lips unnoticed, and sooner or later, people would notice the rest.

At work, Maggie’s confidence crumbled quickly.

Her nails clicked against the keyboard as she tried to type, the long, sharp talons making it nearly impossible to press the right keys. Each mistake grated on her nerves.

Her lips were no better, tingling with sensitivity that made speaking uncomfortable. Every word sent faint, pleasurable ripples through her, leaving her flustered and distracted.

She shifted in her chair, tapping her nails absently against the desk as she stared at the screen. The rhythmic click, click, click gave her a brief sense of calm. until she noticed the faint scratches left behind.

Her eyes widened as she ran her nails over the surface again. Tiny flakes of wood chipped away under the pressure.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, pulling her hands back.

By mid-morning, Maggie knew she wasn’t getting anything done. The frustration of trying to work with her transformed body was too much.

She approached her boss’s office, her heart pounding. Bill was in the middle of a phone call when she knocked on the doorframe.

He waved her in, covering the receiver. “What is it, Maggie?”

She hesitated, clutching the edge of the door she faked a cough. “I… I’m not feeling well,” she said finally. “I think I need to go home.”

Bill frowned, glancing at her hair and lips, but didn’t comment. “Fine. Just make sure you log your hours.”

“Thank you,” she said quickly, turning to leave.

Maggie had barely made it halfway down the hall when it hit her.

A sharp, intense pressure swelled in her chest, forcing her to clutch at the wall for support. The fabric of her blouse pulled tight across her chest, and her bra straps bit into her shoulders as her breasts grew larger, rounder, and impossibly heavy.

Her breathing quickened as the transformation completed. She glanced down, her cheeks burning as she saw the buttons of her blouse straining to hold together. The outline of her swollen chest was impossible to ignore.

“No,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “No, no, no…”

Realization struck like a blow: she had lied. She wasn’t sick. She just wanted to escape.

Her heels clicked against the tile as she rushed toward the exit, her arms crossed tightly over her chest to shield herself from curious eyes.

Once she reached her car, Maggie slammed the door shut and broke down, tears streaming down her face.

She looked ridiculous. Between her golden hair, swollen lips, and now her overly large chest, she felt like a caricature of herself.

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, leaning her forehead against the steering wheel. “I can’t.”

But deep down, she knew she didn’t have a choice. The deal was binding, and she had one more day to get it right or to fail completely.

She wiped at her eyes. What am I going to tell Scott?

She decided to text Scott that she’d be home very late, swamped at work and for him not to wait up for her.  She killed time driving around aimlessly until she knew Scott would be asleep.

She snuck into the bedroom and fell into a worried rest.

------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie woke early the next day. Beside her, Scott was still fast asleep, his face peaceful. She smiled faintly at the sight of him but quickly turned away, her resolve hardening. I just need to get through today, she thought.

On the kitchen counter, she left a handwritten note:

Gone for a hike. Needed some air. Be back later. Love you.

Grabbing a bottle of water and her hiking boots, she slipped out the door before Scott woke up.

The trail was secluded, winding through a forest thick with pine trees. Maggie hadn’t seen another soul since parking her car, and she was relieved by the solitude. The cool morning air smelled of earth and dew, and the crunch of gravel under her boots was the only sound she heard.

She walked for hours, letting her mind wander. For the first time in days, she felt like herself again. No one was watching her. No one was judging her. She didn’t have to lie, hide, or explain anything to anyone.

She stopped at a clearing, sitting on a large rock overlooking a small stream. The sunlight danced on the water’s surface, and Maggie found herself smiling.

This is what I’ve been missing, she thought. Peace.

As the sun began to set, Maggie made her way back down the trail. She’d spent the entire day without seeing a single person, without saying a single word. She’d been careful, thoughtful, and good.

When she pulled into the driveway, relief flooded her. She’d done it. I made it through the day.

Stepping inside, Maggie called out, “Scott? I’m home!”

“In the living room,” he answered.

Her heart lifted slightly at the sound of his voice, calm and familiar. But when she stepped into the room, she was met with a surprise.

Scott was sitting on the couch, looking at her curiously. Next to him, perched casually with his hands folded, was the mysterious man. His dark eyes gleamed as they roved over her, lingering on her blonde hair, swollen lips, and curvier figure.

“You’ve been busy, Maggie,” the man said warmly, his smile almost kind.

Maggie froze in place, her pulse hammering. Her hiking outfit did nothing to hide her new breasts. Her golden hair spilled over her shoulders, and her full lips glistened in the light. But it was the tightness of the tank top across her now-large chest that drew Scott’s attention first.

Scott’s expression shifted from confusion to shock. His eyes darted to her chest, widening as he registered the dramatic change.

“What the hell?” he said, standing abruptly. “Maggie… what is this?” His gaze swept over her, taking in her impossibly blonde hair, her plumped lips, and now her noticeably larger breasts.

Maggie winced, crossing her arms over her chest, but it did little to disguise the size. “Scott, I…”

“You haven’t been very good,” the man continued, his tone light, as though discussing the weather.

Scott’s head whipped toward him. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice sharp. He turned back to Maggie, his confusion mingling with anger. “Maggie, what is going on? What happened to you?”

Her lips parted, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks. “I—”

“I mean,” he said, tilting his head as though considering, “you’ve certainly had your moments. But goodness? True goodness? That’s been in short supply, hasn’t it?”

Maggie swallowed hard, her shoulders slumping. “I know,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling. “I wasn’t as good as I wanted to be. But today…today I was good. All day.”

She straightened, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “That makes three days out of seven. I passed.”

The man’s smile widened slightly, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. He inclined his head politely, as if acknowledging a fair point.

“Well,” he said, his tone almost playful, “she has done the math.”

“What the hell is going on?” Scott interjected, his voice sharp with confusion. He looked between them, his brow furrowed. “Who is this? And what is he talking about?”

Maggie opened her mouth, her mind racing for an explanation.

“He’s…” she began, her voice faltering. She glanced at the man, who raised a curious eyebrow, waiting patiently as though this were all part of a game.

Scott leaned forward, his expression tense and demanding. “Maggie, who is he?”

She hesitated, forcing a nervous laugh. “He’s… someone who’s been helping us. Helping me.”

Scott frowned deeply. “Helping? What does that mean? Helping with what?”

The man’s smile returned, slow and sharp. “Yes, Maggie,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement. “Why don’t you tell him exactly how I’ve been helping?”

Her breath caught. She stared at Scott, then at the man, and back again. The truth hovered on the edge of her tongue, impossible to say without breaking the deal.

She glanced at the man again, her lips trembling. His expression was calm, expectant, like a predator watching prey corner itself.

“I…I can’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The man’s eyes glinted with triumph. “Can’t you?”

Maggie’s heart raced, her pulse loud in her ears. The rules of the deal echoed in her mind: You can’t tell anyone about this arrangement.

Scott’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. “Maggie. Tell me the truth. What is this? What’s going on?”

Her hands shook as she looked between them, her husband and the man who held her fate. She could feel the trap closing around her.

Her lips parted, and she spoke the only words that mattered. “Scott… I made a deal.”

Scott stared at Maggie, his healthy face pale as confusion twisted his features. “What do you mean, a deal?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Maggie swallowed hard, her entire body trembling under the weight of her confession. “I… I made a deal with him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to help you, Scott. To make you better, to fix everything. He promised he could cure you and take away all of our financial problems.”

Scott’s eyes darted to the man, sitting serenely on the couch with an air of polite detachment. “And you believed him?”

“I didn’t at first,” Maggie said, her voice cracking. “But then you started getting better. And the bills—they started disappearing. I thought… I thought I could handle it. Seven days. I just had to be good for seven days.”

“Good?” Scott echoed, his confusion giving way to horror. “What does that even mean?”

Maggie turned away, tears streaming down her face. “No lying. No snapping. No selfishness. Every time I messed up, he said it would show. And it did.”

Scott sat back, his hand running through his hair. “So all of this—your hair, your lips… everything—you didn’t tell me because you couldn’t.”

“I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone,” Maggie said, her voice breaking. “It was part of the deal. If I broke the rules…”

The man smiled faintly. “The consequences were clear, weren’t they, Maggie?”

Scott’s expression darkened, his fists clenching. “And now what? You’ve done all this to help me, and what, you’re here to rub it in?” He glared at the man. “What do you want? What’s your ‘due?’”

The man chuckled softly, leaning forward as his sharp gaze locked on Scott. “Ah, Scott. You misunderstand. I’ve already kept my end of the bargain. You’re healthy. The bills are gone. Everything is as Maggie wished it to be.”

Scott’s jaw tightened. “So you’re saying you’ve won.”

The man tilted his head slightly, his smile turning sharp. “Precisely. And now I collect.” ------------------------------------------------------------ I have an ending that I'll post, but I really want you all to help me out. What do you think happens to Maggie? I'll write multiple endings based on your input. Just reply to this story with your ideas.

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

You are my heart you know? (hanjisung)

Tw: anxiety, panic attack

The last few feet till you get to park in your driveway seem to last for fucking ever. You keep blinking away your tears furiously, your blurry vision getting progressively worse as you can feel the sting of your own salt and makeup and sunscreen mixing in on your eyelids, slowly dropping into your eyes. Maybe some snot mixed in it as well.

You feel gross. You're pretty certain you also look just as gross as you feel with your 3 days post wash hair tied up in a loose ponytail, your forehead shiny with sweat, your clothes sticking to you with wet stains after you had to run to catch your train back from 8 and a half exhausting hours of work.

And then it started pouring and you got stuck in the traffic on your way back home from the train station and you were always a nervous driver with or without the rain so when you foot slipped on the breaks at a last second red light and the driver behind you aggressively slammed down on the horn you just lost it.

You started crying and breathing erratically as a full blown anxiety attack threatened to overwhelm you. You had gripped the steering wheel so tight your wrists started to hurt but you didn't care, you just needed to focus ahead on the road and get home as soon as possible, you desperately tried to puff out your cheeks while breathing in and then slowly blow them out as you concentrated on breathing out, the rhythmic motion momentarily helping you calm down just long enough for you to safely reach home.

With your car now safely turned off and the hand brake set, you finally let it all out. The overflowing tears, the shaky hands, the tremble on your lips. You lean forward on the wheel and cover your face with your hands, sobbing and shaking in your seat as anxiety engulfs you at last.

Thinking it was just exhaustion at first, you presumed you were just having a bit of a meltdown from all the stress and chaos and the insomnia that had gripped your mind for over a month now, but then the spiraling over thinking took over and the awful awful feeling of being on the verge of collapsing from the inside out followed and you knew you just had been bottling in too much.

This episode was just all the other anxiety episodes combined together after weeks of repressing and pushing them back down and swallowing down the knot in your throat while at work for many more times than you can actually recollect.

The slightly distorted sound of your ringtone suddenly cuts in the relative quietness of your car and you're forced to shake off the worst of your panicky state and take a deep breath despite your chest constricting on itself and your fast heartbeat that made it feel like you could not inhale enough oxygen at a time.

"Hey baby! I can see your in the drive way, why don't you come in? ", Han's bright and chirpy voice fills your ear and for a second you smile, though the tears fly straight in your mouth and you quickly dab the back of your hand on your cracked lips, tasting the sweat and tears collecting there, "h-hi", you croack, forcing down another sob and just hoping he did not catch onto the strain in your tone.

"I'm right outside. I'm - I'm looking for something that fell from my purse, I'll be there in a sec", you add and it's all you can manage to say without sounding too sospicious before you cover your mouth once again, muffling the sound of you chocking on your own tears the best you can, "sure... Okay", Han doesn't sound too convinced on the other end of the line but he doesn't press on and the call is over before you can even click on the red phone button.

Sighing, you reach for your purse, slip your phone inside it but your hands are too shaky and it slides right down the underside of the passenger seat and even if you scramble to catch it, accidentally bumping your hand on the shift, you distinctly hear it rattle down the rails beneath the seat, the screen definitely cracking on impact and it takes all within you not to just scream your lungs out in frustration. You just cry even harder.

And it comes heavily. A downpour on your cheeks and your neck and your lap. You wail like an actual infant and loose control of your breathing as it goes spasmodic, your chest cramping and your throat burning with the effort: "alright, that's it. That's enough". Han's swift arms are around you in a millisecond.

He comes out of nowhere and you barely register what's happening, you just find yourself all pressed up against him, his arms wrapping tightly around you, "looking for something that fell from your bag ay?", he chuckles softly, a bittersweet edge to his tone as he carefully manouvers you out of your seat and then out of the car as well, not once letting go of you.

The short walk from your car to your front door feels like a daze. You can feel the rain coming down on you, your hair getting damp and wet and then your clothes becoming so heavy and freezing, your boyfriend arms never leaving your shoulders and your back, the feeling of his fingertips on your neck, something about being in a hurry spoken so softly the sound of the rain drowns it out.

Once you are both inside Han wastes no time and just throws himself at you, hugging you so tight you might just crumble into his embrace, wet hair and drenched clothes and all. Neither of you cares. He lets you cry into his neck and his shirt and his hair and doesn't complain once, he doesn't even flinch, he just quietly rubs soft circles on your back, "I know it's not okay right now, but I'm right here, I'm not leaving you, I'm never leaving you, it's going to be okay".

If the floodgates hadn't already opened hearing him talk like that makes you clutch onto him as a way to restrain yourself from crying even harder, if it was even possible, and there's a bit of relief in your cries but there's also still the bulk of unresolved panic pooling in your heaving chest.

Han knows what to do. He's done it a thousand times. Either while dealing with his own anxiety or yours, he just knows it a little too well. It's like second nature to him, he knows whether you need to be actively brought back out of the tunnel or if he just needs to stay by your side until the worst is over, it's like he can sense it before even you know what you even need him to do.

This time you did manage to survive the worst part on your own, you're not feeling completely helpless or like you're about to pass out like you did only a few moments earlier, getting out of the car and actively moving helped with that. But you are still stuck in the loophole, you are still feeling miserable and weak, with claws closing in at your throat. So he focuses on just calming you down.

He guides you on the couch, unzips his jacket and throws it over your shoulders and then he gently grabs one of your hands, rubbing each of your fingers until they stop shaking so much, "I like your hands...", he speaks softly, his eyes level with yours, "you always say how you like mine...", he sighs gently, lowering his voice jut above a whisper, "but yours are so pretty, your fingers are slender and your nails are always colorful and sparkly, I think rings look really nice on you",he continues, now holding your other hand, rubbing his fingertips around the two rings you keep on your pinky and your pointer, "I mostly like how you use your hands though. I like how gentle they are, like when you brush my hair or when you stroke my face and my shoulders".

His voice is hypnotic, his tender massage so soothing. Soon enough your breathing has gone fully back to normal, the aching in your chest is still there but it has subsided a little, your shaking has stopped, your heartbeat has slowed down. You are slowing down. You blink a few times and smile a weak, toothless smile smile at him, and he kisses your hand, from the palm to the tip of your longer middle finger, "you're feeling a little better?", he asks quietly, you nod and clear your throat, "y-yeah. Just a bit...hollow".

Han nods sympathetically for he knows exactly what you mean. Anxiety does that. It carves you out from the inside leaving you feeling so empty and exhausted, all of your senses rendered numb and cotton like after an intense, overwhelming trigger than rilled them all up.

"You should rest for a while. You must feel so tired", he offers, and you nod, already holding back a yawn, your energy does feel completely depleted now, like you could easily just sleep for 10 hours straight and still feel immensely exhausted. "How about you go and change into something warmer and then climb into bed mmh? I'll make you some sleepy time tea, that'll help".

Quietly, you drag yourself upstairs and wash up a little, making sure to really scrub your face, towel dry your rain soaked hair and spritz dry shampoo in your roots, feeling too tired to even get in the shower right now. Once you're cleaner and warmer in an oversize hoodie and pajama shorts, you climb into bed: you stretch out your arms and your legs, the tension finally leaving your limbs and as you close your eyes briefly, you feel like you can breathe again. Like you had been waiting to just lay down the whole day and now you're finally allowed to.

Except that your chest still hurts. There's a cramp there that just won't go away. A skip in your heartbeat that picks up pace a little too fast. The ominous seed of restlessness luring in the back of your head.

Han steps inside as if one cue, he's changed into comfier clothes as well and as he places a streaming mug of what looks like moon milk tea, he eyes you shifting on the mattress, spotting your hoodie as it pokes through the duvet, "that's not warm enough. It's so old and worn out it has holes in it", he whines, making you giggle. The first happy sound to come out of you in at least 12 hours.

He takes off his own cardigan, a cream colored woolen and extremely soft one, and basically forces you to put it on as you sit up in order to drink your tea: "thank you",you mumble, enjoying the sweetness of your drink and the comfort of his cardigan embracing your upper body, "of course, you already got soaked in rain I can't have you catching a cold like that", he pouts, and you shake your head softly, putting your mug on the nightstand for now.

Breathing deeply, a lot more regularly now, you speak softly, pouring out every bit if emotion into what you say, "no, I mean thank you. For everything. You really know how to take care of me. In every single way. I never felt as comforted and well looked after before I met you", you confess, your voice a little shaky for you never expressed this kind of gratitude to him, not this explicitly anyway.

Han smiles at you warmly and strokes your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly on your chin, "I wasn't just saying things earlier, I wasn't just trying to calm you down. I mean it. I will always be here for you", his eyes go shiny and full and he smiles so sweetly you start to think he might just get teary any second now, and you might too, "... I'll always care for you, not matter what... you are my heart, you know?".

You feel your insides melting away and in a second your lips are on his and the way you kiss oh the way you two kiss it's like you're both trying to convey just as much love and care as your own words do.

Something in your chest tugs at you as you pull him closer, the more his chest presses against yours the more it quiets down, the more he holds you to him the more that ache shrivels. You lay down on your back, pulling him on top of you, your reflexes instantly kicking in as your legs wrap up around him instinctively, by muscle memory.

And even though there's necessarily not that much urgency or lust in the way you two are still kissing and tangling your limbs together, you do find yourself panting a little when Han pulls away ever so slightly, "are you okay?", he asks quietly, his elbows resting on each side of your head, eyes travelling down to the hand pressing on your chest, directly on your heart that beats so fast and aches the minute he's not sticking to you, "please hold me, please just hold me", you plead softly, and he happily abides, his whole body settling nicely on top of yours like a warm, weighted blanket.

Comfort. You're engulfed in his arms and his scent and the familiar, pleasant weight of his warm body on top of yours. And the ache stops. It immediately stops. All your muscles go putty like, your senses alight in warmth and softness, your mind shuts down, your whole body finally fully relaxing into bliss.

[lawqual1ty]

Heart drawings (Trafalgar Law x GN!Reader)

Pov: After finishing your duties you end up hanging out with Law during his work but end up getting bored which results in you adding a little something to your captain's skin.

Warning: too much fluff (go get some insulin), reader has (implied) ADHD symptoms

You had never been known to be a person that could sit still for long, whether it was moving your leg around or playing with something in your hand you had to always be doing something or else your brain would go insane, which got you to offer your helping hand in a lot of situations once you joined the Heart pirates.

However there would always be days, like today, that there was not much you could do even if you asked to, so you had to stick to reading or studying for the most part after you finished your daily duties.

You were in your room reading a few of the medicine books that your Captain , Trafalgar Law, had generously lent you for your free time, however well... You were struggling... And a lot.

"Wait... What was I reading...?" You grunted, this was the third time in a row you had read the words on the book only to forget seconds later what exactly you had read with great speed. You were getting irritated. You wanted to learn more about how to create different types of medicine so that you could help your crew but your brain was having a hard time concentrating, you rubbed the bridge of your nose with annoyance.

"I need a break..." You muttered as you softly closed the book, a light tap from the cover giving you the signal that you could head off.

You wandered around for a while looking for something to do, many of your crewmates were already hanging out with each other, chatting, drinking and some even helping out to clean the medical bay, you wanted to offer a helping hand in hopes of entertaining your inevitable boredom.

"hey, what are you guys doing?" You asked softly approaching Sachi and Bepo who were cleaning a few medical supplements, the latter turning to look at you.

"Oh, we were just cleaning and sharpening some of our usual tools in case we get an emergency" Bepo tilted his head slightly "Did you need anything Y/N?"

You smiled at the sweet gesture of Bepo, shaking your head slightly at his question "Nope, I was just wondering if you guys needed any help"

Bepo looked over at the different tools placed in display, seeming to think about your question a bit too much before turning to look at you with an apologetic look on his face "Not really... I'm so sorry"

He apologized as usual, his tone shifting to a more melancholic one making you chuckle nervously, you never enjoyed seeing him like this but he was just so sweet that you understood where this attitude of his came from, you shook your hands in front of you in a way of excusing yourself, almost as if the one that had to be apologizing should be you "No no it's okay, no need to apologize Bepo..." His eyes lit up with relief as you didn't seem mad at him for rejecting your help, it made you feel relieved yourself.

You sighed deeply with a soft smile "Anyway, good luck you too" Sachi smiled at you warmly as well as Bepo

"Thank you! We'll make sure that everything is right! Oh..." You were about to leave when Sachi's words seemed to try and stop you in your tracks "If you go see the captain tell him we are lacking some oxygen tanks".

Your eyes widened at his words, why did he think you were going to see the captain? Out of shock you just nodded with a soft but shy smile "Sure thing, I'll make sure to inform him once I see him" with those last words you waved at the duo and walked away.

A sigh escaped your lips as you kept walking, you didn't originally intend to see your Captain but now thanks to Sachi and Bepo you sort of had an excuse... Right? You made your way through the cold but oddly comforting halls of the Polar Tang, you had not been here for long but these halls had definitely grown on you... Maybe they weren't the best looking but the people around them made it feel like a home to you.

You finally arrived at the office door of your captain, you were a tad bit nervous to interrupt him but... You had a job to do so you might as well shake that nervousness off and knock, which you did.

"Come in..." A light husky voice invited you inside, you breathed softly.

"Please excuse me..." You muttered before placing your hand in the door handle and opened it, a light creak welcoming you inside to the sight of your captain with big eyebags under his eyes as he drowned in paperwork, he didn't even raise his eyesight to acknowledge you "Yes? What is it Y/N-ya?".

You took a deep breath before speaking.

"Sachi informed me that we are short of oxygen tanks"

"Oh right... Write it down on the paper list and we'll get some more on the next island..."

He didn't even budge, and honestly neither did you... You knew that after this interaction you wouldn't have much to do later which made you a bit sad... So you just stood there, staring at your captain for a bit. He seemed to notice it, after all an exasperated sigh escaped his lips, his grey eyes slowly rising to look at you with a piercing cold gaze "Anything else?" He spoke, cold and firmly, questioning why you were still there in the first place... That should have been the end of your interaction, informing him was the only reason you came in there after all, right? Then why didn't you respond...? Your mind started racing...

"Captain..." Before you were fully aware of your actions you took a step forward and spoke "Do you... Mind if I stay for a bit?"

You caught a glimpse of surprise in your Captain's eyes, those grey spheres seeming to warm up for a moment at your offer. But just as quickly as it appeared it went away only for his attention to shift back to his paperwork.

"I... I'm sorry..." You were quick to apologize, your voice wavering ever so slightly

"I didn't mean to--"

"Go on."

You froze "What...?"

"I said you can stay..."

His words snapped you back to reality, he was... Allowing you to stay, you had no space for words, you just nodded and moved a chair over next to his desk taking a seat politely next to him as he kept on working.

He didn't budge at all, if anything it seemed like his concentration increased thanks to your presence, the mere idea made you happy as you sat there next to him.

Unfortunately you started getting bored once more, as thrilling as it was watching your captain work through his paperwork with graze, not budging at all, it had gotten boring after a few minutes.

You started looking around finding yourself with a pen, you softly took it into your hands and started fiddling with it... Suddenly, an idea sparked in your brain. You took the cap off it and started scribbling in your hand, trying to see if the pen was smooth enough to draw on your soft skin, you smiled brightly once you confirmed your suspicions: it was a good pen and it drew a perfect black ray on your skin with ease.

Once you discovered this you started drawing on your hands, starting off with a skeletal hand to practice the location of different bones in the hand to less professional stuff like hearts and small animals. You were entertained by your own scribbles when all of a sudden you were interrupted by Law grunting and leaning backwards on his chair.

He had his left arm laid across the chair, his tattooed hand dangling in the air, while his right arm stroked his face with obvious frustration. You stared at him then back at the pen you were holding, slowly but steadily a smirk formed on your lips.

Without a warning you scooted closer to your Captain, he didn't even realize you were closer to him until he felt your hands take a hold of his left arm, he flinched but didn't move his arm at all... They say curiosity killed the cat ... And curiosity had definitely gotten to him as he looked at you take his arm with your hand and start passing the pen around his skin in delicate but firm traces.

"What are you doing?" He questioned with a furrowed expression

"Drawing" you spoke bluntly as you focused on the piece of art that you were doing in his arm "I got bored..."

Your response caught him off guard, his eyes wide as he stared at you for a bit. A small smile formed on his lips "I need to check your medical record..."

His soft tone was like a way of signaling you something...of what he really meant: he didn't mind you drawing on him... You looked over at him for a moment only to smile and return to your drawing, you didn't know much what you were doing you just followed your heart as you scribbled. Slowly but steadily the drawing took form into a star surrounded by wavy lines that formed what almost looked like a tattoo design, you even went out of your way to draw small hearts, a secret confession of your feelings to your Captain (not that he would notice... Right?) You leaned back with a satisfied smile as you looked at your work, you looked over at Law who seemed entranced into one of his books, he hadn't budged during your whole art process. Once you leaned back he hummed softly, his eyes never leaving his book at all "You done?" He asked politely, you nodded.

"Yeah I did!"

"Good... My arm was starting to fall asleep..."

You couldn't help but laugh at his snarky comment "At least you now got another cool tattoo"

He huffed with a slight smirk "Doubt it..." You acted offended at his words giving him a light push on his shoulder winning a soft laugh from him.

"You haven't even seen it!"

"I don't need to..."

"Oh come on... You have seen my drawings!"

A soft chuckle was the only response you got, it made you smile, although he acted as if he probably didn't like it you knew that he did... Or that's what you'd like to believe...

And trust me he did...

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

A few days after the drawing incident you were wandering around the Polar Tang heading to the kitchen to get something to eat as you were pretty hungry.

You waltzed around when a characteristic husky voice caught your attention in an instant, it came from the kitchen. Following the voice you peaked through the door finding your captain talking with Penguin about something you didn't quite catch, all you knew was that it was something serious judging by Law's and Penguin's expression.

You stood there for a bit waiting for the right moment to enter when all of a sudden you noticed a small detail on your Captain's left arm, your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed a light pink...

What did you see?

Well, you saw your drawing tattooed onto his arm... That was the only reasonable explanation as to why it still looked so bright and vivid, after all a few days had passed since you did it and unless Law had taken extreme care of it it should have already been at least a little bit vanished, just like the drawings you did on your own skin from that same day.

Penguin was walking away once he had finished speaking to Law, which was your signal to pounce.

You slowly made your way towards Law catching his attention once you were hovering behind him, he glanced at him over his shoulder "Y/N-ya...?"

His question was left in the air once you took his left arm rising it to your face, much to his surprise, you scanned the drawing carefully confirming your suspicions: he had indeed tattooed it onto his skin. You turned to look to a flustered Law with a bright smile.

"You actually tattooed my drawing?!" You asked in both surprise and excitement, Law covered his face with his hand, a blush creeping its way to his cheeks in an instant

"Shut up..."

You laughed.

Maybe you should draw on him more often when you get bored...

[cheriladycl01]

I have just got into F1 and it’s fast become my autistic hyperfixation and I’m glad I’ve found writers like you! I was wondering if maybe you could write something for Nico? He’s my favourite! Maybe reader has a bad crash or something similar to your heat fic where reader faints into his arms/ has a febrile seizure from dehydration and heat stroke after a race? Just lots of hurt/comfort. No worries if it doesn’t inspire. Thank you for doing what you do 💕��

The Toughest Race so Far - Nico Hulkenburg x Driver! Reader

Plot: After one of the toughest races of your life, you and Nico need to have serious conversation about your health.

A/N! 1) I'm hoping i got the right Nico and you didn't want Nico Rosberg! If you did, let me know and I'll right one for Nico Rosberg! 2) As someone with ADHD, i 100% get the hyperfixation and how much it grips you!

You were getting out the car, well trying to and your legs and arms refused to work. It was like they were actually glued to the seat. You just sat there, head ringing not really sure what to do and how to gp forward.

Some of the Stake Team come up to you, checking to see if you were actually alive in the cockpit or if you'd passed out. Your own team hadn't come and found you yet.

They start to try talk to you but nothings going in, and staying in so your communication is ineffective.

You feel void of anything and all the sounds around you are blurring into one. There's a numbness in your hands and legs that is burning but also non-existent, like numbness should be. It was confusing for your mind that had just gone through that uphill battle of a race.

It was like your body was failing on you and you could only sit back and watch it.

Eventually your team, of RedBull come over to you. Not that you could tell the difference between the Stake Suits and the Red Bull ones at this point, faces were just blobs right now and your mind couldn't comprehend colours.

They reach in to help lift you out so your stood up outside the car leant against the body. One of the mechanics has a hand resting on your arm keeping you steady while another reaches to take your helmet off and another goes for you balaclava that's covered in saliva.

However, the minute your legs are left to work for themself with out the support they starts to wobble. Your head starts to spin, and your vision blurs, the last thing you could remember being your body convulsing before you smacked the door where you continued shaking.

"Oh my god! Someone help her!" someone exclaimed as they saw you on the floor and seconds later a medical team that were already on their way heading towards you after being radioed by the team you weren't looking too great.

There were people flooding around you, one of them opened up your race suit that was drenched through.

"Babe?" a voice called as Nico jumped out his car spotting you thrashing on the floor. He himself wasn't feeling great from the heat either but you'd just managed to fight your way from P20 all the way up to P6 to get in the points.

It was probably the drive of your career having set the fastest lap, fastest pit stop and received driver of the day. Despite all the podiums, wins and poles you'd had, this was the drive.

He looked over you as they took you onto the stretcher as you were unresponsive.

"What's wrong with her is she okay?" he asks walking over closer to the medics that were surrounding you.

"We aren't sure but we need to get her to the medical tent right away, please go back to your team!" one of them says while they fit an oxygen mask around your mouth.

Nico spent his entire debrief not really concentrating on what anyone was saying, he wanted to be out of that room as soon as possible and to see how you were doing.

The minute that they concluded what happened in the race and how they can prepare better for hotter races as a team until the FIA but things into place, Nico was out the door as rushing past the Red Bull motorhome that was pretty quiet. They could all tell he was looking for you, and he just knew you were still with the medics from the look on everyone's face.

He rushed into the tent seeing you calmly sleeping but hooked up to a few different machines. The main one an drip, he knew you must be insanely dehydrated, and with your body temperature already struggling to regulate normally he couldn't imagine how much like hell that car felt to you.

"Is she okay?" he asks the nurse that was currently re-doing the braid in your hair that had gotten a little knotty under your helmet.

"Yes, she scared us all but she'll be fine. She's making a speedy recovery thanks to the doctors quickness and efficiency. She lost 6kg in that race which is very dangerous and she didn't drink anything at all during that race, so we've got her on some water and stuff that will pep her up. She had a minor injury to her shoulder where she fell but other than that she's okay. How long have you guys know she struggles to regulate her body temperature?" she explains and asks all in one.

"Since she karted, but she loves the sport to much" he chuckles. You'd talked about this with Nico a lot, you had to train your body harder and be stricter when it came to things like exercise and diets because of the condition.

Nico had said many times that it would be safter for you to stop racing all together but that had caused far to many arguments that he'd ended up on the sofa one to many times over.

He knew you loved racing, because he did as well and he hated when he had to leave the sport when no seat was available. So he knew it was something that wouldn't even be on the table for you to consider but he just wished you would.

For your guys' future, he just wanted you safe and at full health.

"She terrifies me when she gets into that car" he smiles looking down at your peaceful body.

"I can imagine, but ... I'm sure you scare her too. She struggles but I think honesty that makes her a better driver, she knows her limits and breaking points better than anyone. Today was a bade race that I cant see them doing at the same time of year ever again, and there may even be regulation changes that'll help. But ... take it from a career passionate woman. She wont give this up" she smiles to him and he glances down at you with his own smile.

"Oh I know she wont" he grins, taking your hand in his.

"Hey baby" he smiles as he sees your eyes flutter.

"Hey" you say back a little confused, looking around the room your in.

"You fainted and had a seizure" he explains grabbing your hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

"Oh, it was really hot in the car I don't think I ate before the race either because I felt sick!" you offer trying to explain why you were so badly effected.

"You weren't the only one that struggled, Alex, Esteban, Logan and a few others have been down here too. You pushed yourself a lot in that drive, but there's talks of the FIA making some changes for next year!" he explains.

"Mmm, I'm glad their taking action to make it safer for us!" you admit.

"I'm not even going to bother trying to convince you to retire!" he laughs shaking his head.

"We've talked about that before, you know I'm not ready yet. I've been given such a shot in Red Bull!" you smile, knowing he finally understood your view on your career.

"I know, I just worry about you!"

"I worry about you too" you say and pull him down into a kiss.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

[wireddless]

cw: 17+ smutty little drabble to get my mind off of it while i focus on a bigger project of him maybe

Coriolanus doesn’t love. He's incapable of it. But he is an addict. An addict of the control, the power that you provide him. He craves even the slightest clue of it like a man possessed. When an animal is raised its whole life in a cage, it will never know that it isn’t free, and that’s exactly how he's got you. He knows that even when you argue with him, like a petulant child, it’s only just an outburst. From a well-off family, pretty and naïve, you're a real Capitol gem, he’s seemingly the only person who doesn't love you.

But when he kisses you like you’re his lone source of oxygen; when his hips are flush with yours, and his lips are painting your collarbones with blue and purple reminders of his presence; when his brow furrows in concentration as he digs his fingernails into your hips as the other hand weaves itself into your hair, keeping your neck bared and vulnerable; when Coriolanus sets a bruising pace as he fucks you, swallowing your pitiful moans with his kisses; when he lets your arms wander and rip the skin on his back until it could resemble a tattered canvas; you convince yourself that maybe he could love.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Come Back

Connor Rhodes x Reader

Part 2 of Can't Take it Back

@desimarie12

“Connor” Maggie's voice was light as she shook him awake. He flinched, eyes immediately moving from your still form down to your stomach then to the two monitors. “The board wants to meet with you and her sister as to how you want to handle her treatment plan. We need something in place if the baby goes into distress or if her body starts to fail”

He nodded numbly “I know. They need everything in writing” his eyes stayed on your face as he spoke, one hand on your stomach, feeling the baby move under his palm. “Will you stay with her please? I can't leave her alone” “Of course”

He slowly stood, letting his hand slip from your stomach before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead where there were no injuries “I'll be right back baby. Maggie will be here” he looked at her and nodded “Thank you”

________________

Your sister stood just outside of your room in the hallway, tears streaking down her face. “Hey” he greeted and she threw her arms around him “Please tell me what the results mean Connor. Are-are we going to lose them both?”

He ran his hand down her back, trying to soothe her as best as he could “The tests were promising. The baby is strong, his heart and lungs are performing where they need to be. They successfully extubated her last night. She's on a high level of oxygen but she is breathing on her own again. She's a fighter, we know this. She's not gonna leave that easily and he's a part of her so he's got that fight too”

She smiled up at him “You're a good man Connor. My sister loves you and I know you love her. What happened before the wreck..”

“I'll never forgive myself for what I said to her” he cut her off and her smile softened “she'd already forgiven you. She told me when she called me at lunch that she knew you didn't mean it, that she knew you were just scared. She was coming home to talk it out” he felt tears spring to his eyes at her words “I'd give anything to be the one in that bed and for them to be ok”

“I know. Now let's go talk to the board because I have to follow your lead on this. I have no clue what half of this crap means but I trust you to do what's best for her”

Voices, you could hear voices and monitors? It sounded like heart monitors like they used at the hospital. Wait, hospital!

Memories of the wreck flooded your mind. Sliding on the ice, over correcting and when the car started to roll. You'd tried so hard to shield the baby. What happened? Where was Connor? Did the baby make it? Did Connor hate you if he didn't?

You had to concentrate to force your eyes open, it felt like there were weights sitting on them both. The bright fluorescents hit your eyes and a groan left your lips. “Turn down the brights please” you muttered and heard April's voice “Oh my god. Get Connor!”

_______________

“RHODES!” He heard Ethan calling his name and started running without an explanation, thinking the worst.

When he got to your room he could hear April, Maggie and Will's voices but the one that stopped him dead in his tracks was the achingly familiar, albeit hoarse from the vent,sound of your voice. “Will, where's Connor? What happened to my baby?”

The sounds of your broken sobs ripped his heart out on top of the fact that it just now felt like it was beating again knowing you were awake. He stepped into the room and all four of you turned towards him. When you saw him you broke down sobbing “Con”

He was across the room and to your side in a heartbeat, pulling you into his arms and nodding to April. “Love, it's ok. You gotta take slow breaths. Your body has been through hell”

You winced and he saw pain flash across your face “They had to take him out, didn't they?” You asked, one hand hovering over your stomach.

He nodded, hand covering yours as the other cupped your face “He's ok baby..he's ok” you started to cry all over again “He is?”

About that time April came back into the room with your son in her arms. Connor stood and took him from her before turning back to you “You went into distress because your body was routing all healing efforts to this little man. He's a little early but all his functions are perfect, he's six pounds even”

Connor placed him in your arms and sat down next to you, slipping his arms around you both. “He's perfect Con. He looks just like you” you whispered, kissing your son on the head.

“He's all you sweetheart. That's why he's such a fighter” he replied, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he felt tears slipping down his face. You came back to him, you and his son were in his arms. “I love you so much. Both of you, you're my entire world” he spoke against the side of your neck.

You leaned back against him and smiled “I love you too Connor. You're gonna be a good father” he reached over you to run his fingers down the baby's back “He needs a name..and I was thinking when you get out of here..maybe it's time you get a new last name too”

“Connor, did it only take me and your son almost dying for you to propose?” You asked and he shook his head “I've had the ring for over a year. I've known you're my world”

“Yes I'll marry you” you replied, letting him support your weight because you were still exhausted. He kissed the side of your head again “Thank you for not leaving me here alone” "How could I leave you alone? You need us too much" You replied and he laughed lightly "I need you and him more than anything on earth love"