#(brain matter and guts everywhere)

[stopthatfool]

If you made Ice listen to 100 gecs he would immediately blow up everywhere

#“I have a song for u listen” #“stupid horse I just fell out of the Porsche” #(brain matter and guts everywhere) #top gun #tom iceman kazansky #yeah idk either #here take this #ur welcome 😇

[maiko-san]

Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 4 )

<<< Part 3

Relationship : Fluff

Warning : None (?)

Plot : Every time you enter the Playcare you feel eyes watching you everywhere you go. You feel stressed and start to become sick.

Recently, you feel uneasy and something tells you that you were being watched. Every time you go to work, you feel eyes on you.

It scares you.

Nobody likes the feel of being watched.

It made you stressed out.

You tried to get rid of these feelings by distracting yourself with work. You tried to keep yourself busy to a point you overwork yourself with all those papers or taking care of the Smiling Critters.

To a point it made your body ache and have a migraine from overthinking.

Not only that, Catnap has been acting quite differently too and his visit has become less and less each day. Not only that—

The lovely and sweet cat is avoiding you!

You finally asked the feline, what's the matter but only received—

"It's nothing...."

Nothing....nothing? Obviously there's something wrong!

Multiple questions began to swarm into your brain like a raging tsunami, did you do something wrong? It must be you, right? Yes, no? Maybe?

You had a slight feeling it has something to do with the higher ups.....

Did they tell Catnap to...avoid you? It has to be it, right? Why they do such a thing?

The stress starts to eat you the more you think about it.

Dogday and the other smiling critters saw that you've been stressed lately to a point it started to affect your health. It made them worried, especially Dogday. As a leader, it was his responsibility to care for everyone's wellbeing, including you.

"Angel, You look nervous lately. Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh, hey. Dogday....."

Dogday knew something was wrong. He comes closer to you and touches your shoulder.

You slightly flinch under his touch which made the canine even more worried.

"Angel, please tell me. Is something bothering you?"

"......"

"As a leader, it's my duty to help everyone in need. I won't forgive myself if anything happens to you"

"....."

Dogday holds your hands gently and holds them in his large ones.

You take a deep breath before telling him what's been bothering you, you know it will be useless to ignore the canine. He is stubborn and won't stop until you tell him what's wrong.

"I feel like something bad is going to happen. I don't know when. It might happen now, Sooner? Tomorrow?"

"......"

"I really hate this feeling, Dogday.....I-I can't get rid of it and no matter how many times I tried to forget it by distracting myself with work, I just.....couldn't— Not only that, Catnap has been ignoring me and started to avoid me! I— ugh, m-my head"

You suddenly drop to your knees causing Dogday to panic and he begins to whine worriedly.

Dogday's heart clenched the way you spoke. You feel scared, anxious and nervous. The canine pulls you into an embrace, in hope that it will help you calm down.

"Let's get you to the infirmary..."

Dogday makes sure that the school doctor treats you and gives you medication.

"Mrs. (L/n), I think it would be better if you take a week off from work"

"A week?!"

"Angel, it's for your own good"

"But—"

"No buts, end of conversation!"

The doctor said sternly you were causing you to snap your mouth shut.

The doctor also recommended you to rest someplace quiet and away from the city and your workplace.

It seems you have to go to your foster parents house, they always welcome you with open arms if you need anything.

"Alright...I'll take the day off..."

But still....that gut wrenching feelings still resides in you....

For today, you need to rest in the infirmary room until you are discharged.

Dogday leaves you to rest before proceeding to make his way back to his stage but before that, he wants to find Catnap first.

Dogday knows that Catnap is great at hiding, but it won't stop him since he has his canine sense helping him.

He sniffs around to find the feline until he sees the cat, snoozing around his stage like he always does.

"Catnap. I need to speak to you..."

"...Speak"

"(Y/n) is sick, have you not noticed?"

"...I know..."

"Then why did you help her with your red smoke? To make her sleep and at ease?"

"....."

Catnap looks away from the dog, Catnap knew that you were sick. It hurts him to see you like that.

He wants to help and comfort you, he really does but...

He had received an order he has to obey. His had to choose between two individuals that he adores. One he worships and the other he loves. Yet, he chose the one he worships, the one that saves his life.

Catnap knew that Dogday will help you and he trusts the dog with you in his care.

Other than that, using the red smoke on you will make everything much worse and potentially kill you in your sleep.

He doesn't want that to happen to someone who cares for him and loves him.

"Why?"

"Red smoke use...on stress person...bad could hurt and... possibly.........kill..."

"O-oh..."

Dogday rubs his arm before turning away, but before he leaves.

"Please, pay her a visit, Catnap. If you do, it makes her less worried and she would be happy to see you again"

"Also, She won't come to work for a week...."

Dogday leaves Catnap's stage, leaving Catnap alone to think about his decision to see you.

A/N : Another chapter finished 😁 . Also, a fair warning for all of you. The future chapters will become darker as it progresses since I want to stick to the plot of the game.

Also, the mascots have their own stages to perform for the orphans!

#poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime catnap #smiling critter #smiling critter dogday #smiling critters x reader #smiling critters catnap #dogday x reader #catnap x reader

[libertyybellls]

IF YOU BUILT YOURSELF A MYTH !

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; finnicks failure of being able to save you and bring you to district 13 will eat away at him until he is blessed to see your face again.

contains; tooth rotting FLUFF, comfort, reunions, lil kisses but who rlly gaf tbh, slight angst at the beginning bc i can’t help myself. torture mentions but not descriptive. finnick loves reader like a dog :( as always- not proofread.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

he’s picking at his fingers, practically pulling his hair out. in a state of such worry he wishes someone was here to keep him in line. he’s waiting for someone, anyone, to come through these doors and tell him you’re here, you’re okay.

he’s sure that everyone else is fed up with his antics, they can all recall his incessant and undying persistence to see you, so desperate, so distraught.

but instead he has not moved- still desperately trying to settle the ache in his guts and mind when he thinks of you. where are you? have you called out for him? in what world would he not answer back? why hasn’t he stormed the capitol and stolen you back himself?

it is only then when he sees you, does he comprehend your state. you’re in worse shape than johanna- but not quite as bad as what he’s heard of peeta. and for that small, small victory he selfishly finds himself thanking god.

“sweetheart?” he’s scared, nervous to touch you, frightened to disturb you.

you look at him now- studying his face, his eyes. oh, his eyes. you couldn’t find a better color- and you’re sure you’ve looked everywhere to no avail.

you don’t know where you are, how you got here, when finnick had shown up, how long he’d been there, but you knew that by his shoulders not being squared off- his brows being unfurrowed, his jaw unclenched, it was by his body language that you knew you were safe.

to finnick, you looked as if you’d built a book all in your head and had been reading it upside down- like you were back in that arena, and it hurt him inside.

you’d been there twice before- and survived both times, but now you looked like you’d left something in the quarter quell. something that would make it all make sense. you don’t remember what you were doing before the 75th annual games had been announced, and you don’t know what your plans were for after. were they with finnick? did you plan to have a family?

now you weren’t so sure you wanted a family in a world where the capitol had control over each and every decision you’d make, who would do that to a child?

you remember your hands being of no use to you, you couldn’t take your shock collar off, couldn’t cover your ears from the jabberjays, couldn’t pull yourself out of the water, couldn’t fight off the peacekeepers that tormented you- but it didn’t matter now.

with your faint memory you could see finnick- you could see him and his curious eyes wanting to drink in your every thought.your hand reaches for his, and when his fingertips meet your skin you refrain from flinching- you want this, you want him back. you want to soak up his presence as if it were slipping away. you grab for more of him, more and more and more until he wearily hoists himself next to you on the hospital bed.

you breathe him in, your head pressed into his chest. You want to study the lines of his face, the way his hair has somehow grown- making it seem like you’d been apart forever, the bags under his eyes- all thanks to you.

“finnick.” you breathe out, and he knows it’s not a question, more of a statement.

you don’t want him to remind you of everything just yet- for now, you’re just making sure he’s real, that you know it’s really him here and not one of the illusions that had been forced into your mind. he kisses the top of your head, he worries. he worries for your brain, for your body, your soul, your dignity. he worries what they’ve done to you- what he should’ve been sure to prevent. he worries himself sick, but his body does not shake and hurl as it wishes to- he holds himself up on one arm to admire you. he keeps composure for you, because in this moment you are whole, heart beating, brain functioning, and hands reaching out for him- and he will not take that for granted.

he kisses the back of each of your hands, your eyes are fluttering shut. he intoxicates you- inebriated on his love and warmth you pull yourself closer into his chest- only in your silence do you heal.

he hums with your bodies melted into one another- an almost ticklish vibration from his being to yours. “i love you.” a few of the many words he had to get out. i’m sorry i couldn’t save you sooner. the fact that i wasn’t there to save you in the first place eats away at me. i am lost without you. i need you. but nevertheless he sums it up with three words.

-

pls use my inbox i need reccs my brain is empty

[heartlesscorpse]

Pyramid Head thoughts 🩸🔪 △

Catering this to myself and my hornee NEEDS and anybody else’s ig because I’m a dirty boy rn and I have too many thoughts in my head revolving around my man and I need to spill my guts before I lose this precious brain rot. Oh yeah this got some nsfw shit (it’s gonna be like further down) so be sure to read at your risk, and don’t mind the occasional out of context shit bc that’s just my comments and me giggling so hard abt this fine mfer— this was pretty fun to make too ngl, I might do more in the future if I ever get anymore ideas from things or from people, Idk we’ll see.

Pyramid Head’s possessive asf over his s/o, when you’re living inside a hellhole of a town full of monsters and a cult run by a bunch of lunatics, who else is gonna protect your ass none other than this 7’0” deity??? Man wouldn’t even hesitate to kill anybody or anything that came way too close to you.

Man’s not even gonna let you out of his sight for a second, wherever the hell you’re going he’s coming with you, you’re a fragile little thing after all. He doesn’t want anything bad happening to you, not on his watch.

The size diff between you and Pyramid Head is endearing as well as arousing just thinking about how he could manhandle you into any positions he wants and watch you struggle to take him in. You’re just so short compared to him, he finds it cute. <3

It’s fun to carry you around everywhere he goes because of how short you are compared to him. Doesn’t matter if you get a say in this or not, he’s gonna carry you whenever the hell he pleases and he’ll never let go.

Pyramid Head would’ve associated you with the colour white and some times gives you white clothing because you’re pure and the only non-sinner in this shit hole of a town.

Who the fuck needs a bed when you have Pyramid Head??? Hell, he’d probably prefer you to sleep on top of him so he could hold you in your sleep and protect you from all the dangers of Silent Hill. Not to mention he’d like the feeling of how squishy you are in his embrace, particularly your thighs, he likes wrapping his hands on them and squishing them gently in your sleep. Might be a form of comfort saying “I’m here, everything’s okay”, or he’s just admiring them. Who would’ve thought a large monster living on violence and inflicting pain on sinners would be so gentle with you? (Unless you wanted him to roughen you up a little of course then by all means, he’ll fuckin’ do it.) >:))

Because Pyramid Head only exists in Silent Hill and doesn’t know a lot about the outside world, it’s rather adorable watching him get all confused with that head tilt of his whenever you explain certain things to him couples do on a regular basis besides sex, but he does show some curiosity on said topic and possibly willing to do those things with you as well.

Pyramid Head enjoys receiving attention from you, be it either hugs from behind or give him kisses on his helmet or the tongue— anywhere else is prolly gonna give him some other ideas of sorts, rnskfbsjfbw.

OH BOY the fucking dirty brain rot persists. If this man ever happened to be feeling horny he honestly wouldn’t hesitate taking your clothes off in one tear the second he has your consent.

Did I mention abt the size diff last time? Making you take in his cock nice and slow isn’t gonna do much, he’d want you to get over with the pain fairly quick so he’ll just push it in without warning lmao, of course once he’s in, he’ll allow you a brief moment to adjust to his size and once you’re all good he’s going to pound the fucking daylights out of you.

AGAIN WITH THE SIZE DIFF it’s just so satisfying and enjoyable to him watching you writhing and moaning underneath him like that, accounting to that just seeing you stuffed full of his come and utterly blissed out is adorable. (Like man I— let him rail me already PLEASEE)

And he’s for sure going to tease the fuck out of you to overstimulation until your mind is nothing but a puddle of mush and you’re begging for him. <33

Aftercare in the end is amazing, he’ll help clean you up by fucking eating you out with his tongue and then he’ll lay there with you in his arms, with a blanket big enough pulled over top to cover the both of you while you snuggle up in the mean time. A possible guarantee you’re gonna have a blast trying to walk in the morning./j

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

#pyramid head #dead’s dying #dead’s hcs #smut #fluffies #gn reader #pyramid head x reader #slasher x reader #brainrot hrs

[wintaerbaer]

things we don't say: part 6 (TEASER) (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 1.2k

teaser warnings: a very sad boy, references to sexual situations, brief mentions of child abuse, vomiting, someone has a wet dream, guilt, shame, a haircut

a/n: sincerest apologies that this series has gone so long without an update. i was struggling with some aggressive writer's block these past few months, but i think we're back in business! <3

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST

To say he falls into a state of depression may be an understatement.

He barely eats, barely sleeps, and while Taehyung has always considered you to be the center of his universe—his entire being oriented to you like a star—you’ve begun to haunt him in ways that you never have before. Reminders of you creeping into every minute of his days.

It’s passing your favorite ramen place on his way home from a photoshoot. Or finding a can of your favorite sparkling water buried in the back of his fridge. Or flipping past the cooking show you used to watch together or stumbling upon one of your sweatshirts in his closet or the fact that he still has that damn photo of you hanging up behind his desk.

You’re everywhere—your being so deeply ingrained into his life that he couldn’t erase you even if he wanted to.

And he certainly doesn’t want to erase you; he’s too selfish for that. Even now, even after he’s fucked up to catastrophic degrees by forcing his feelings on you, he still can’t bear to face you directly. Because he knows it would be the end of him for you to reject and abandon him too, even if he can’t blame you for it.

It keeps him up at night, thinking about what he could’ve done differently. How he somehow lost his handle on the control which he has always internally prided himself on (sans a drunken conversation with Namjoon last year where he spilled his guts as was met with a lack of surprise on his friend’s part). He’s always promised himself that he would never burden you, that his love for you was not your responsibility but something for him to manage on his own.

And yet, with you sitting so close on the hotel bed—looking absolutely beautiful in your simple PJs even after he spent the day with you all dressed up—his defenses had crumbled the second you pressed into his side and asked him the final question of your fateful game.

How could he not kiss you then? How could he not give you what you asked of him when he wouldn’t hesitate to lay down his very life if you required it?

But still, he spends hours each night staring at the white expanse of his ceiling wishing he had held back like he always did. Years spent training himself to resist the way his blood calls out for you reduced to naught the second he got his first taste of your lips. And now you likely hate him.

And as if it’s not enough for his brain to put him through this nightly torture, the guilt eating him alive, when he finally does manage to scrounge up a few hours of sleep, there’s the matter of the dreams.

He revisits the hotel room every night. Can taste you again, hear your moans, feel your mouth on him and your warm skin underneath his hands as his mind drags him back through every minute detail on a loop. It’s agony, having to both wrangle with the knowledge of how it felt to be with you as well as face his sins every time he closes his eyes. Realize just how badly he fucked up when he wakes to once again find the other half of his bed empty.

Because in spite of him spending years convincing himself that you were never meant to be, there’s still a small part of Taehyung’s subconscious that’s always carved out space for you in his life. It’s the part that stocks your favorite drinks in his fridge, keeps that photo of you pinned behind his computer, leaves a side of the bed open for you because he became so damn accustomed to sleeping next to you in high school.

He’d found that the bruises from his father didn’t hurt as much when you were sitting next to him making him laugh in your bedroom. That his brain would quiet enough from the terrors to allow him to sleep if you were there lying next to him. That he didn’t feel the dull pain, only the gentle touches of your fingers, as you carefully applied makeup onto the dark patches of skin before school.

It had been easy, then, to dedicate himself to providing you with the same support and care you had shown him in any way he could. To wish for your happiness above all else—his guardian angel through and through.

At least, that is, until he lost control in that hotel room.

One night, after a particularly vivid dream involving your body under his, he awakes to sheets that are soaked around his middle. He blanches at the evidence of his body’s desire for you even now, the horror at the audacity of his unconscious mind causing bile to churn and rise in his throat.

He bolts for the bathroom, barely making it there before he empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet. His body shakes as he retches above the porcelain, guilt rattling his bones until he can hardly keep himself upright.

When the waves of nausea stop, when he can finally pull himself up to lean his elbows against the sink, he stares hard at the mirror and man he sees there.

He looks haggard, dark splotches sitting under his eyes and hair hanging limp around his face and over his forehead. The pale skin of his cheeks and lips is surely due, in part, to the vomiting, but there’s no denying that he’s a shell of his former self. A ghost just going through the motions of a past life.

And it’s there, peering through the darkness at his own reflection, that Taehyung decides he hates himself.

He’s not sure if it’s the raw disgust or the unrelenting shame that has him reaching for the hair clippers, but as his sable tresses begin to fall in chunks over the bathroom counter and floor, Taehyung thinks he deserves this.

He deserves the torment of his dreams. That disturbing combination of his wildest fantasies and nightmares rolled into one.

He deserves to wake up alone. To be reminded of his transgressions at the break of each day.

And he deserves to lose you.

Hell, he never deserved to have you.

The silence that follows the buzz of the trimmer seems at odds with the roaring in his head. Still, he manages to scoop the mess of hair into the trash before dragging himself back to the tangle of his sheets.

He finds himself right back in that cursed hotel room.

When he shuffles into the living room the next morning, still fighting the lingering tastes of bile and your lips, Jungkook and Jimin are already awake at the kitchen bar drinking coffee. They freeze at the sight of him; the pastry that Jimin was halfway to putting in his mouth hits the ground with a thud as Jungkook lets out a low whistle and simply shakes his head.

“That bad, huh?”

a/n: may or may not go back and revise this again for the final draft. in the meantime, a reminder that my ask box is always open! <3

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung smut #bts smut

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: If This Is Love, You Need To Prove It {2}

Title: If This Is Love, You Need To Prove It {2}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Heavy Angst, Plot Heavy, LOTS OF WORDS, Heartbreak, Cursing, 

Words: 9.1k

Summary: The fall out of Lewis’ actions is real, as is the freeze out. You’re fuming but brokenhearted. Not only do you feel like a fool, but you also feel used. Moving on is the only option, but Lewis doesn’t want to move on—or that’s what his actions say. 

Note: Part 2 is here! The plot thickens. 

Note II: Italicized text is a flashback/memory or someone’s words all from some time in the past.

As always, thank you all so much for reading. I truly appreciate it!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous: If This Is Love, I Don’t Want It {1}

~~~~~~

“Listen to your gut about men. Your gut is never wrong.”

Your mother’s sage old advice echoed in your head. It had been one of the many lessons she’d voice recorded for you before her untimely death when you were just shy of your 18th birthday.

You’d always wondered what had motivated her to write letters and record videos for you dropping wise words, encouragement, mantras, sweet stories and other things of the sort. You often wondered if she knew she was not going to be around in the future.

 Your soft cries turned into loud wails then. Raising the bottle of dark liquor to your lips, you chugged two mouthfuls then cried from the burn. It was just another added pain onto the others you carried. It had been two days since the events at Lewis’ house. Two days you’d locked yourself in one of your family’s vacation homes off the coast of Monaco. Two days you’d been surviving on dark liquor, chocolate, ice-cream and oxygen. Two days you hadn’t answered your phone or done anything else but cry.

As if the heavens sympathized with you, the weather for the last two days had been a dreary, rainy mess. It seemed like the perfect backdrop for you, so you often sat on the deck in the rain and just cried. No care for getting sick, no care for even your hair which you normally were super careful and protective of. Everything be dammed. None of it mattered.

 Everything played in your mind over and over like a movie. It hadn’t felt real then, hell it still didn’t feel real now. You didn’t know how you’d gotten here. Everything had been going so well. For the last year and change his words matched his actions and efforts matched what you saw in his eyes. He was attentive, loving, thoughtful, giving, helpful, honest, devoted. He was perfect. It didn’t make any sense. None of this made sense.

 Could you have imagined what you saw in his eyes? All this time could he have been lying? Was he really such a smooth player and liar to be so skilled to make lies shine through his eyes? Could he really have kept up a façade for over a year? For what? Sex? Your virginity? He didn’t even know you were a virgin.

 You groaned, stood from the shower floor then turned off the water. While dripping wet, you walked to your robe then wrapped yourself in it. Ignoring anything else you walked back to your bedroom and laid down. The weather today was another shitter and again you didn’t care one bit. As you stared out the ceiling to floor window at nothing really your mind drifted away to thoughts trying to make sense of everything. your brain went left, right, up, down and around but still you couldn’t make any sense of it. As your eyelids grew heavier and heavier your brain moved on to the hurt and betrayal of it all. You’d believed, you’d tried, you’d been sold a dream and now it was proven to all be a lie.

 The next time you opened your eyes, it was a lot harder. Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy as if you wore several pairs of lashes. That wasn’t the only thing odd, you couldn’t hear anything except warbled words, high pitched beeping and wind as if a vacuum were on beside you. Writhing, you felt hands everywhere, then something powerful held you down and you felt painful pinches in your arms and thighs. You opened your mouth to scream or shout “stop” but no sound came, your throat was dry and tight. Finally, you were able to open your eyes, but everything was blurry. It was as if you were seeing through them for the first time. It hurt, they felt raw as if someone had thrown sand in them, but it was forever embedded inside.

 Then you heard your name being called but the voice was foreign. As soon as it all started it stopped. Now you heard and saw nothing—but darkness.

Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep.

You snapped your eyes open and gasped gulping in air as quickly as you could. It felt as if you’d been deprived for days.

 “Y/N!”

 Big mistake you thought as quivered from the ache in your body that felt as if it were emulating from your very bones. Then your eyes immediately burned making you shut them again as your back dropped to a bed.

 “Wh--,” you began but stopped once you recognized pain. You felt hoarse.

 The only thought in your head was, what the hell had happened?

 “It’s okay. Calm down,” your father’s voice advised as he placed his hands on your arms steadying you.

 “I know you’re confused. it’s okay. Take slow breaths. I’m here.”

 “Seriously, Jordan, you spoil her. If you coddle her like this, she’ll think she can pull stunts like this all the time,” came the shrill voice of the woman you hated most in this world.

 “Coddle? Aleeza, she almost died,” your father clarified, exasperation clear in his tone.

 “Da—da--,” you swallowed painfully hoping it would help then tried again. “Da--.”

 “Here my love, some water.”

 You felt the glass touch your bottom lip and you took a tentative sip. The first touch of the cold water over your taste buds woke you up making you feel even more like you’d crawled through the Kalahari Desert for a week. You took mouthful after mouthful until the glass was empty.

 “That a girl,” your father encouraged while gently rubbing your back.

 “Yes, she almost died because of her own negligence. Really, Y/N, disappearing for a rager and then drinking until blackout? How mature. I told you Jordan, she is nowhere ready to take on any responsibility with the club,” Aleeza blabbered on.

 Though you were confused as shit, you were seconds from leaping out of the bed and giving her a Mortal Kombat finish her move. You hated this woman, and it was evident the feeling was mutual.

 “Enough!”

 Your father’s voice boomed around the room stopping any further comments from his 2nd wife. Through the thin slits of your burning eyes, you saw that she pouted at him but quickly shaped up seeing he was not going to be fooled.

 “Either sit down and be quiet or you can wait for me in the hall.”

 You didn’t have to look at Aleeza to know she was cowering. You heard her huff, but you didn’t hear her heels clinking out the room, so you assumed she sat.

 “Sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

 You cleared your throat then spoke, “Wha—What happened?”

 “You don’t remember?”

 Shaking your head, you tried to open your eyes more to see him fully.

 “I couldn’t reach you for 4 days. You were supposed to be back in London. I got worried. None of your friends had heard from you, no one had heard from you. I ended up having to have a friend of mine hack into your phone to get your location. When I got to the house you were unconscious, burning up, shivering with vomit on you.”

 Bits and pieces finally came back to you.

 “I brought you here. You had alcohol poisoning, a bronchial infection, and your anemia had been severely triggered. You don’t have enough red blood cells honey. I thought you were taking care of yourself. You know you shouldn’t be drinking excessively. Then come to find out you hadn’t taken your medication in days. Y/N.”

 “Irresponsible.”

 “Aleeza,” your father cautioned.

 With your head down, you allowed the events leading up to today to play through your mind.

 “I’m sorry dad.”

 He sighed, pulled you into a hug and pat the back of your head like he used to when you were a kid. You melted into him and allowed your tears to fall.

 “It’s okay. I—you scared the shit out of me Y/N. I thought I was going to lose you too. I can’t lose you, not after your mother.”

 His voice was clouded with emotion and unshed tears. You knew how difficult losing your mother was for him. You could tell he still hadn’t recovered fully. Your eye caught Aleeza sitting a ways away. The look on her face brightly showed her disgust, annoyance and hatred. There was something else there too, something you couldn’t place. Was it smugness, happiness?

 “They had to pump your stomach to get rid of the alcohol. They gave you iron transfusions and IV meds for the bronchial infection, and a blood transfusion” your father further informed lifting his arm to show his bandaged forearm.

 That bad, you though as the guilt was swirling in you; “How long have I been here?”

 “Two long days,” Aleeza piped up. “Plus, the day you were found. My, my, you should be careful the state you allow others to see you in. You neeever know who snapped a picture and what they’ll do with it.”

 Both yours and your father’s eyes went to her.

 “All I am saying is plenty of tabloid trash would love a picture of Y-F-N/ Y-L-N thee daughter of F1’s most prominent front runner,” Aleeza said. “It isn’t only your name you drag through the mud, Y/N, it is your father’s—mine.”

 You narrowed your eyes, the hatred you felt for her was bubbling at the surface. You knew the woman was vile but for her to say this to you or your father spoke of how ballsy she really felt. They’d only been married for 4 years, and she thought she held the whole Y-L-N power in her hands. Before you could lurch for her and turn this hospital room into a celebrity deathmatch arena, your father sighed.

 “Wait outside Aleeza.”

 “But honey,” she whined dragging out the pet name.

 “Now.”

 Not liking his tone or that she couldn’t cutesy her way out of this she stomped then walked to the door. Once finally alone, you leaned back onto the bed and sighed. The woman was like dark matter, her leaving instantly relieved the tension in the room.

 “I’m sorry for Aleeza. She’s going through a lot with the shareholders not voting her in.”

 “She was the only one who thought they would vote her in,” you rasped.

 “They did however unanimously vote in your favor to take the next steps. Congratulations to the club’s newest and first woman in senior management.”

 You smiled hearing the confirmation that your hard work and effort had paid off.

 “Congratulations honey. Next step shareholder. Toto better watch his back.”

 You snorted then groaned feeling the pain in your chest and abdomen.

 “It serves you right. They pumped 3 times the normal alcohol consumption for the average human from your system. What the hell?”

 You sighed.

 “What’s going on?”

 You couldn’t tell him the truth. There was no way you could tell him that you’d been sleeping with Mercedes’ golden boy and major bread winner. Internal fraternization was frowned upon, hell it was practically in everyone’s contract and now that you’d been placed in senior management it could look really bad. No matter how much you hated Aleeza she was right. Your name was not yours alone. Your father had worked too long to accomplish all he had for you to fuck it up. Plus, if he found out the entirety of things you were sure he’d rip Lewis’ contract to shreds and kick his ass out of MB. You smiled thinking that, but the devious thought quickly passed. You were not that kind of person. He may have turned out to be a lying, selfish, self-centered asshole, but you were none of those things.

 “Don’t allow anyone, man, woman, or child, but especially a man turn you into something or someone you are not!”

 With your mother’s words in your head, you began; “I just got some unsatisfactory news about some investment choices I’d made outside of F1, and the family and I just felt like I’d been pushed back hundreds of steps. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to achieve the things I wanted,” you lied.

 “Honey. What have I always told you? Investments are a game, 50/50. If it’s 50 in your favor great, if not then I’m here. Me and legal the team could have quickly and easily fixed it for you. This was not necessary. Was this a cry for help like Aleeza said?”

 You disgustedly snorted. “No. Aleeza couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m fine now dad. I promise to never let this happen again.”

 He studied you with his wrinkle rimmed all seeing eyes for several long moments. With each second that ticked by, you feared he’d seen right through you. Ever since your mother’s passing, he’d taken her place and was always there for you when you’d gotten your heart broken. He was ready with the ice cream, chocolate, and Brandy. He’d stay with you while you cried offering his lifetime’s worth of advice. If he’d been the one to find you then you knew he had to have seen the empty ice cream cartons and bottles of Brandy lying around amongst the chocolate wrappers. If he had seen them, he knew very well what you were dealing with.

 A sad smile spread across his face. “All right, Y/N. I will take your word for it. Just know I am always your father first and foremost. I will always put you first and I’m always here for you.”

 You nodded and kissed his cheek. If he knew he wasn’t saying anything, and you were grateful to him for that.

 ~~~~~~~

 -3 Days Later-

“Oh my god, when we saw you were in the hospital from Daily Mail, we were so worried,” Francesca said with your hands clasped in hers.

 “Aw, I’m sorry you had to hear about it from Daily Mail—eck! However, I am perfectly fine.”

 You smiled hoping that she and all the other girls believed you. Currently, you were sitting in the conference room that you’d changed around to resemble a comfortable lounge. You’d replaced the oblong conference table and stifling office chairs with oversized bean bag chairs, comfortable designer couches and settees and other elements that gave the room a comfortable vibe.

 “I’m relieved,” Monica, your assistant said.

 “I’m thankful I have you as my right-hand woman and to have such thoughtful women around me.”

 They all beamed at you then Monica stood and walked to the corner where she took out a bouquet of flowers and a galaxy printed gift bag.

 “We all heard about your new title, and we wanted to say...”

 They all jumped up from their seats and threw sparkled confetti at you and into the air.

 “Congratulations!”

 You laughed covering your eyes as the shock washed over you. The room that had been clean seconds ago was now covered in confetti.

 “Wow, you guys. This is—wow, thank you.”

 Monica held the flowers and the gift bag to you. Happily, you took the items and took a deep whiff of them.

 “Mmm. Thank you guys. I appreciate the sentiment and I promise to be the best that I can for all of you.”

 They pooled in and hugged you. With a warm heart you forgot about the stress of the last week or so. This was what you’d worked for, this was what mattered. Your ringing cell phone brought your attention to your purse off to the side.

 “We have to go down to the garage. Are you coming?”

 You looked back at Farrah then nodded; “Give me a second, let me get this and I’ll be right there.”

 They walked to the door leaving you to dig your phone out of your purse. When you had, the caller ID had you pausing.

 💘😘Lewis😍💘

 Your heart immediately began beating out your chest. You stared at his ID and the movie that was your life over the last week or so played in your head at hyper speed. The extreme highs of being with him and being cared for by him, his words during your most intimate moments, his attention, his sex, then the extreme lows of his betrayal, his lies, his selfishness and the aftermath. Your anxiousness turned to anger then.

 This wasn’t the first time he’d called. He’d called so many times since you’d woken in the hospital. Each call of course went unanswered, even ignored. You’d think he would have gotten the hint but no, he kept calling. You thought to put him on the block list, but you hadn’t. You couldn’t. For some reason it still felt wrong, and that fact pissed you off even more. How was it wrong when this was the least of what he deserved?

 The ringing stopped, showing you’d missed his call, but even though you’d missed it, the aftereffects were still present. You cursed your damn body for its treachery and then chastised yourself for still caring and having it prevent you from blocking his ass.

 “Y/N?”

 You shook it off then walked out of the conference room with your purse in tow. As you got downstairs and began your walk to the garage your mind drifted yet again. It had been like this for the last few days. You couldn’t for the life of you keep your head in the game. The smallest things triggered a memory and that memory a slew of emotion and those emotions brought you back to present day and then you crashed—hard.

 You didn’t even realize you’d arrived until you were surrounded by interviewers who were shouting your name trying to get your attention.

 “Y/N, just a few questions.”

 “Okay, sure.”

 “We’ve heard the news of your new position. Congratulations.”

 “Thank you.”

 “Being the daughter of Jordan Y-L-N, did you immediately fall for the idea of working for Mercedes or did they have to woo you?”

 You giggled; “No there was no wooing needed. All I’ve ever known is Mercedes, F1 and racing. Was there really any other career option for me?”

 The reporters laughed all together as the cameras continued snapping.

 “You definitely have a knack for fashion and beauty so there is always that.”

 You struck a pose then fanned off the reporter. “Stop it.”

 “What is the chain of command with your new role?”

 “Uh, I’m still at the bottom of the food chain guys.”

 They laughed again.

 “We doubt that. You are the first woman to enter senior management with the organization. What a feat.”

 “I am incredibly proud of that actually. To see some real change happening to become more inclusive is so monumental.”

 “What do you bring to the Mercedes and F1 table?”

 “A woman’s eye and my entire life of information being behind the scenes, a fan and up front. Needless to say, I’ve seen a lot and I’ve learned even more, and I believe I offer a creative and modern take on the sport and can bring this side of F1 to greater heights.”

 The women you were now in charge of applauded behind you making you smile. They held so much faith in you and it was contagious.

 “Thanks guys,” you said ready to walk away.

 “One more, please, Y/N.”

 “Okay. Last one.”

 “Why do you think Mercedes offered you this role rather than someone more experienced and someone with more skin in the game? Someone who isn’t the daughter of the biggest name in Mercedes. Why you? And couldn’t you consider this nepotism that plenty of African American media users have called for so many of their white counterparts?”

 You couldn’t believe what you’d heard. The old white man who’d asked the question didn’t look in the least bit ashamed or worried about the question. He looked proud. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to say to a reporter. For the first time you actually wanted to reach over and punch a reporter in the face.

 You cleared your throat then stepped forward. That was when someone stepped in front of you. A body with a head full of braids you recognized.

“What kind of question is that? Mercedes chose her because she’s worked her ass off in and around the field learning, helping and wearing more hats than you could possibly imagine. Mercedes chose her for the role because there wasn’t anyone better, no one with more experience, no one with more skin in the game. She has the most as she’s been with this division since the very beginning when it was a formulated idea between Jordan Y-L-N and his late wife, her mother. Who better to take the helm than one of the founding visionaries. As for this being nepotism according to non-POCs, why does it matter what you think? A qualified woman given a position that she is qualified and skilled to do. Isn’t that what we call equal opportunity? Now an unqualified individual given a position that they are unqualified for and highly under skilled to complete thus relying on those who should have been given the position. Isn’t that the textbook definition of nepotism and isn’t that 90% of the nonblack workforce? Y/N more than has the talk to back up the walk. Do you need clarification?”

 The interviewers all looked stunned, and their speechlessness showed just how thoroughly they’d been read. None of them continued. They just nodded and thanked him and moved on. When he turned to you, you knew you should have walked away but you were still standing there dumbstruck. Lewis stared at you, his face solemn, eyebrows knitted and a frown on his lips. From the circles under his eyes and the lack of luster to his skin you, could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. Probably fucking everything with legs, you said to yourself.

 At that thought you clenched your jaw and shook your head. Turning, you began walking.

 “Y/N, wait.”

 As if it were instinct, you stopped. Go, you screamed in your head. Walk! No matter how much you screamed at yourself, your legs didn’t move.

 “Can we talk?”

 You reared back with eyes wide from his audacity. Lewis shrunk back, flinching as if you’d slapped him across the face. You wanted to so badly your palms itched for it.

 “Please,” he softly added.

 The anger bubbling inside of you finally took over. Instead of it making you irrational and shaky, it had the opposite effect. You felt calm. With one brow raised and poison in your eyes you tapped into your bitch side.

 “You can talk to the crack of my ass!”

 With that you walked away joining your team.

 Over the next several days you wished you could have said he’d gotten the hint. He still called even when you put him on the block list. He’d use other means, Toto’s phone, the Mercedes office phones, his crew, other drivers. It was insane. You’d gotten to the point where you were screening calls by voicemail now.

 Every time you broke and listened to one of his voicemails, they sounded more and more desperate. He never said anything of substance or even explained himself. He simply rambled about the past and asked how you were together. His behavior was so confusing it put you in a state of extreme anger and dangerous sadness. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but when you did you couldn’t get past feeling weak for trying to make excuses for him.

By the middle of the week, you’d managed to avoid Lewis, and anyone associated with him. Today you’d told your father you’d accompany him to one of the races and you were now walking around the paddock with other members of the crew inspecting the car and having small chats.

 “Congratulations little Y-L-N,” came a voice you recognized.

 Spinning around, you found Toto coming toward you. Smiling, you approached him and accepted his wide stretched arms for a hug.

 “Thank you, big bad Wolff.”

 He chuckled at your nickname for him. “I hear I should watch my back within the next year or two.”

 “I didn’t say it but--,” you stretched making your father and Toto laugh.

 “All right. Well, I welcome you to take my job because then I’ll be sure you deserve it. Come play with the big boys.”

 You rolled your eyes at his teasing.

 “Are you here in senior management mode or are you a spectator?”

 “A little bit of both I guess. I’m also my dad’s plus one.”

 He nodded then looked back as someone called his name. Approaching your trio was Lewis. You released a heavy sigh then caught your father’s eyes on you. Doing your best to cover, you smiled brightly at him.

 “Lewis, feeling good for the race?”

 “Eh, I’m feeling all right.”

 “Good. You remember Jordan Y-L-N and Y/N.”

 Lewis reached out and shook your father’s hand. You noticed the tight hold your father took of him as he held him in place while slightly leaning forward.

 “What kind of man are you, Lewis?”

 “Uh--,” he began clearly confused by your father’s sudden inquiry.

 “The kind of man someone is says a lot about the kind of driver he is. Are you a good, strong, loyal man who knows right from wrong and always protects those he values or a weak man who easily falls prey to pretty words and pretty faces? Are you the kind of man who a father would be proud to hand his pride and joy over to because he’s certain she’ll be cared for properly?”

 Part of you was confused about what had gotten into him and why he was asking this while the other part of you wanted to pat him on the back and grab a cup of the tea because he was definitely getting his Wendy Williams on. They were damn good questions. You knew from experience he was the latter, but you’d let him tell it or lie. What man in their right mind would admit to being a fuckboi?

 Your eyes, your father’s and Toto’s were on Lewis waiting for his answer.

 “Em, I uh—the former, sir.”

 You snorted louder than you’d intended and now three pairs of eyes were on you.

 “Ehm, sorry, I saw something just over there with Charles.”

 Your father smirked while Lewis grimaced.

 “All right. Good to see you again Lewis. Good luck out there,” your father finished.

 Lewis nodded, thanked him then looked at you. He must have been able to see the disdain in your eyes because the only vibe you got from him was a gloomy and depressing one. What the hell you thought. He’d gotten what he wanted. Why the hell would he be anything but overjoyed?

 “Good luck Lewis,” Toto added.

 He looked at you as if he expected you to say the same. You wouldn’t. You weren’t there yet. You wished him pain. Instead of saying that, you kept your lips sealed. When he realized you weren’t going to be a sheep led by the herd, he nodded then walked away back to his crew.

 Twenty or so minutes later, the race was beginning. From behind the scenes, you watched as the lead fluctuated for the first several laps. By the time lap 40 came around, Lewis was in lead, and you couldn’t quell the part of you that was excited and proud of him. It had been so long programed in you that you hadn’t been able to turn it off yet. With effort, you stifled it and kept yourself in check.

 Lap 55 brought different results, Charles took over the lead putting Lewis in second and now the spectators were split. Some cheering for Lewis, some for Charles. Looking around you could sense the angst in the air. Lewis’ team looked on edge as did Charles’. You found it interesting that 3 weeks ago you would also be on edge hoping for the best outcome for Lewis, but everything was different now. You’d seen his true colors, seen the man underneath the pleasant mask and unfortunate for you, you’d been disillusioned.

 Biting your bottom lip, you checked your phone becoming bored with the race. Before you knew it, everyone was standing and cheering on their teams. Then you heard it, the end of the race. You looked up at the screen and saw the standings. Charles had taken P1 while Lewis was at P2. Again, you felt things a significant other would have felt, things you were not obligated or should have felt. It pissed you off more.

 “Hm, interesting,” your father said.

 “What?”

 “He rarely loses.”

 “He did seem off the last week,” Toto informed.

 You shrugged trying to convince yourself you didn’t care.

 When the cars rolled in, and everyone came in you saw the downtrodden look on Lewis’ face and you had to fight with ever fiber in your being against your instincts. You kept yourself planted right where you were and averted your eyes.

 “Charles, the man of the day,” your father began, “Congratulations.”

 “Thank you, sir. Wow, I’m speechless you know who I am.”

 “Of course. Anyone pulling stats like yours I make a business to know,” your father joked.

 “Do you know Y/N?”

 Charles’ eyes landed on you and a wide smile filled his face. He was adorable and you could see how he had the attention of so many fans.

 “I do but glad to finally be up close and personal.”

 Your eyebrow crooked at what sounded like a flirtatious line. Just behind Charles you saw Lewis watching though a sea of people surrounded him trying to get his thoughts.

 “Well up close and personal we are. Good race, congratulations.”

 You stepped in and hugged him while giving Lewis your daggered glare of death.

 “Thanks. Wow, you have such a beautiful daughter Mr. Y-L-N.”

 Your father chuckled. “Don’t I know it. It’s my curse. No matter how I try I can’t keep the boys from her yard.”

 You snorted and teasingly slapped your father’s shoulder. “Ew, dad.”

 Those around laughed as well.

 “Well not all boys in her yard are bad.”

 “Are you throwing yourself in her yard, son?”

 Charles looked at you again and smiled. “I’d be honored to be there.”

 You giggled and swatted at his chest playing up your flirtation. Lewis looked absolutely livid. Good you thought and hoped he understood he wasn’t the end of your world. There were indeed plenty of fish in the sea or in this pond.

Several hours later, you were finally walking to your car ready to go home from a long day. Your feet and face hurt from walking and smiling too much, and you couldn’t wait to wipe off all the makeup and kick off the heels. You sat in the driver’s seat with your feet outside the car then unbuckled your heels. after taking one off, you put it over your knee and massaged it sighing when you hit a particularly achy part.

 “Ouch.”

 Just then a memory hit you of Lewis massaging your feet on long days like this. He never missed a massage. Usually that massage led to other things like him nestling his head between your thighs to then lick, suck and slurp the stress of the day away. With that memory in your head, you dazed out reminiscing about all the good times. Things had been so good, so perfect. you felt the tears prick your eyes and before you could stop them, they rolled down your face.

 “Damn it,” you said on a whine as you buried your face in your palms.

 You couldn’t stop the cries that wracked your body. It was like you hadn’t shed any tears these last weeks when in fact you’d cried every day since finding Lewis exercising his right to be a man whore.

 “Fuck. Stop it Y/N. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!”

 No matter how many times you said it the tears kept coming. You didn’t know how long you sat there barefoot and weeping. It could have been a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You didn’t know nor cared.

 “Y/N?”

 You were crying so loud that you barely heard the voice.

 “Y/N!”

 Suddenly before you Lewis was dropped to his knees searching you.

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

 His words were frantic, eyes wide and wild. It took a few moments to realize what was happening but instead of kicking him in his face, you made up your face and wailed even more.

 “Get the fuck—the fuck—the fuck away!”

 He didn’t.

 “What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?”

 “Y—y—you! Asshole!”

 His hands slackened on your arms, and you saw him dip his head.

 “I—I--,” he stuttered.

 “Get away!”

 He began getting up, but you pulled him back down. “Why? Why’d you do it?! How could you!”

 You held him by his shirt like you were a gangster getting ready to pummel him. He didn’t fight you, so you released your fists in a fury of hits against his chest. No matter how hard you hit him he didn’t move, nor try to stop you. He just took it. Soon, your barrage of hits turned to you just pressing your forehead on his chest as you cried.

 “Shit, I’m sorry Y/N. I--.”

 You barely heard his words all you could focus on was the pain in your heart. Many long moments passed with the two of you like this, Lewis on his knees before you with your forehead on his chest. You hated it but he still felt like home to you. He still felt like yours. Those feelings angered you because you knew you were being stupid, pathetic and weak. You knew if he’d fucked you over once, he’d do it again and again. You weren’t blind to the games of the assholes in the world, but you couldn’t believe you’d fallen for one. You couldn’t believe you’d given one such a significant part of you and now you had nothing to show for it but the shattered pieces of your heart and clown face paint as souvenirs.

 When your sobs slowed then finally dwindled down to sniffles, and your body stilled to only sudden sharp intakes of breath every so often your senses returned. The first thing you became aware of were Lewis’ arms wrapped around you holding you close to him. The second was the fact he was kneeling between your thighs, something that felt intimate in its own standing. The third was that his two-man bodyguard team were standing a few feet away with their backs turned. That jarred you so much that you immediately felt regret.

 “Get off me!”

 You shoved him off harder than you’d intended then wiped your tear-soaked face.

 “Y/N--,” Lewis began.

 “Shut up!”

 Your voice echoed around the empty parking space. You were the only people around, but you didn’t put it past some pap to be hiding out trying to get a candid of F1’s golden boy.

 “Let me explain.”

 “Explain? You had your chance to explain. You chose to remain silent, and fuck lose pussy.”

 “I didn’t fuck anyone!”

 His voice was sharp and sudden as if he’d been enflamed to set the record straight all of a sudden. You narrowed your eyes at him and began moving trying to swing your legs inside your car. Lewis grabbed your thighs keeping you in place.

 “I didn’t.”

 “You’re a fucking liar Lewis! I was there. I saw it!”

 “You saw what I wanted you to see.”

 Your anger sparked then.

 “What the fuck does that mean? You wanted me to see you fucking other bitches? You wanted me to see you for the asshole you are. Fine! Done! I see it! Let me the fuck go!”

 He didn’t.

 “I thought I could do this. I thought I could easily do this because it was to protect you, it was to keep you safe.”

 “What! What’re you talking about?”

 Lewis rubbed across his face. He looked haunted, exhausted, and broken. “If you’re this bad off to end up in the hospital and now this—fuck. I fucked up.”

 You didn’t know what he was saying much less couldn’t understand anything. Nothing made sense.

 “Y/N, listen—I—shit—okay listen.”

 He continued to stutter as he tried to formulate a sentence but every time nothing came out. You sat there giving him time to get it together but realized your idiocy midway through. Groaning, you shoved him again.

 “Get the fuck away. You’re full of shit!”

 Managing to push him away this time, he fell backward. You swung your legs inside your car then reached for the door. Lewis put his hand on yours, stopping you.

 “Wait, please.”

 “Fuck you, Lewis. Fuck you and fuck this!”

 You shook your hand free then slammed your car door. It took you seconds to start your engine and revved out of there like F1’s newest driving talent. As you sped away you looked in your rearview mirror at a still kneeling Lewis with his hands planted atop his head. Your heart broke seeing it but that only angered you more.

 That night you struggled to get any sleep. You were in between states of hysterical crying and obsessive staring and stalking. You couldn’t make sense of anything, couldn’t understand his behavior. One minute he was telling you that all he wanted to do was live life in the fast lane and fuck around then he was holding you so tenderly and apologizing. You were getting mental whiplash from his change up and it infuriated you.

By the time the sun rose, you were still awake. As you were getting ready to shoot a message informing everyone of a personal day, you received a message telling you about a meeting at the company. You groaned knowing you did not have the energy to sit through a 2-hour meeting. You shot Toto a message telling him you’d have to pass blaming a medical appointment for the absence then decided to use the company gym to burn off some steam.

 After you’d changed and had gotten in your car, you drove to the company barely aware of anything happening around you. All of it felt like muscle memory to you. The reason why it had, you realized once you’d parked your car, was because you hadn’t driven yourself to the company. You’d driven to Lewis’ London house instead.

 “What the actual fuck, Y/N?”

 You dropped your forehead on your steering wheel and groaned. Muscle memory indeed, you thought. You didn’t see his car on the street and thought maybe he wasn’t home. Deciding now would be a good time to clear your stuff out of his place you entered the code into the alarm system then drove in once the gates opened. After parking on what Lewis had distinguished as your parking area you closed the garage door then let yourself inside using the keys he’d given you.

 This was another thing you couldn’t understand. If you were just a conquest and an easy target, why give you keys to his houses, why tell you the codes to security systems? You took off your sneakers and took them with you as you passed a large blown-up photo of the two of you hung right in the foyer. You stood stunned staring at it. You remembered this day. He’d shut down the top of the Empire State Building for a one-on-one date. Then after wining and dining you all night while whispering sweet words the entire time, he’d asked his guard to snap a few pictures. You remembered the words he’d whispered in your ear in this exact picture.

 “You make me want forever.”

 You closed your eyes feeling the tears. Willing them away you fought against your emotional side. You were tired of crying, tired of going around and around with this and him. It was time to end things, once and for all. You cut your eyes at the photo then hurried upstairs to his bedroom. The memories and his scent hit you like a ton of bricks when you walked in and again you fought it all. You couldn’t afford to get sucked back into the memories that were clearly a lie.

 After finding one of your overnight bags in his walk-in closet, you began filling it with your things. It surprised you how much of your stuff was here. It wasn’t just clothes and toiletries. It was shoes, bags, make up, jewelry, hair things, work files, even gifts you planned on giving to friends. Sighing, you packed everything you’d came with while leaving anything he’d given you. They would only hurt to find later.

 It took longer than you’d anticipated but after an hour you had three bags filled with your things. As you passed the photo again on your way out you paused to look around once more. Though it was just a few seconds, you knew you’d missed your window when you heard a car pull in.

 “Shit.”

 Hurrying, you dragged your bags behind the large bar then ducked down out of sight. The door opened and shut then you heard a heavy sigh.

 “I thought she’d be at the meeting,” Lewis said.

 “If you want to talk to her just call her,” one of his guards said.

 “If she wanted to talk to me, she would have answered the other hundred times I called.”

 “Then tell her the truth.”

 Lewis sighed again. “How?”

 His voice was close now. You guessed he was standing right at the bar. You made yourself smaller and hoped he didn’t come behind it.

 “I’m sure when you start the words will come.”

 The door opened again then you heard the voice of his friends. You’d spent a lot of time with his friends getting to know them. They were cool people.

 “When are we clubbing,” Miles asked.

 “Not in the mood,” Lewis said dismissing the idea.

 “Come on. Just because your shorty left you doesn’t mean we all gotta suffer.”

 “She ain’t leave him bruv, he made her leave,” Daniel clarified.

 Your attention piqued. What did that mean?

 “You still haven’t explained all that yet. What now?”

 Suddenly, the bell rang, and everyone got quiet.

 “For fuck’s sake. Really?”

 Lewis sounded beyond upset, beyond fed up. A few moments of silence passed, and you were almost tempted to peep your head out to see what was happening. When he began speaking, you remained in your hiding spot.

 “Y’all gotta hide. I don’t want her knowing you’re here and I’m sure it’ll be clear.”

 You heard hurried footsteps.

 “Nah, behind the bar,” Lewis said.

Your eyes bugged knowing you were going to be caught. Shit, you thought. It was Daniel who saw you first, his reaction was quick, simple widened eyes before he ducked down. Andrew saw you next and though he paused he didn’t comment until he was ducked down. Now Miles, when he saw you, he had to be the one.

 “What the--.”

 Daniel yanked him down before he could say much else though.

 “We’re good,” Daniel said.

 “What the fuck are you doing here?”

 “Getting my stuff,” you whispered back to Miles.

 Their eyes dipped to the bags around you, then they nodded.

 “What the fuck is going on?”

 They all shrugged in unison.

 “What’re you doing here?”

 “There he is,” a feminine voice spoke.

 Your spine stiffened. There’s no way. It couldn’t be, you thought. The clinking of heels was so loud, so distinctively her.

 “What do you want Aleeza. Also, I don’t remember inviting you in.”

 Your eyes widened. What the hell was your father’s evil trophy wife doing here?

 “Trust me, you’re going to want to make sure no one else hears what I have to say.”

 The door slammed and echoed throughout the first floor. When you looked over three pairs of eyes were on you as if waiting for you to explain. You shrugged. You had no idea why she was there.

 “What more do you want? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I have nothing left to give.”

 Aleeza laughed, it sounded like the wicked witch in Snow White’s cackle. The three men across from you shuddered all at once. You scoffed to yourself thinking if they only knew the half of it.

 “Aww poor baby. Are you hurting? Get over it. she was nothing, less than nothing, an insignificant speck.”

 “Why do you hate her so much?”

 Were they talking about you?

 Aleeza scoffed disgustedly, “Why do I hate the so-called perfect Y-F-N/Y-L-N? Pick a reason. Her father chose to marry her mother over me. He had the nerve to pick her over me saying he loved her and not me. It should have been me. It was supposed to be me! All anyone ever talked about was her stupid, perfect mother. Oh, Alisha is so pretty, she’s so kind, she’s so smart. My god just wanted them to shut up. So, I bided my time until the bitch died then I swooped in.”

 You were so stunned right now you hadn’t moved an inch. Your eyes remained bugged and glued to one particular spot in the bar as you listened. Slowly, the pieces all fit together. You never knew why she didn’t like you, never even knew of the rivalry she’d had with your mother. You felt like you were an outsider looking in on an episode of F1’s WAGS (Wives and Girlfriends).

 “I’ve hated her from the day I met her. Why would I love that bitch’s daughter. Then I realized she is just like her. All anyone can talk about is Y/N. She’s so beautiful, so kind, so smart, so skilled. Uuuugh!”

 A loud crash of something breaking had all four of you jumping out of your skin. As if this were campfire horror stories, the four of you grabbed hands. This shit could go south at any moment.

 “Then I saw you and I wanted you.”

 Lewis let out a disgusted huff.

 “The plan was to seduce you slowly or use a little force to get you into my bed and ya’ know.”

 The four of you now made up your faces as if you were going to be sick. Hearing all this, you actually might get sick very soon.

 “Then I saw how you were with that bitch. I don’t know how anyone else didn’t notice. I put two and two together and realized you were fucking the slut. Just like her whore of a mother, taking what was mine!”

 Another crash of shattering glass filled the room.

 “So, I had the perfect way to give that little slut what she deserved, what her mother should have gotten. That’s why I got the idea to have you do my dirty work. I mean I already had the goods on you. If Jordan found out you were fucking his precious daughter born of true loves kiss from his soulmate, you’d be out of Mercedes quicker than you can say 103 first place standings. They wouldn’t have mattered.”

 “So that’s why you made me do what I did,” Lewis said sort of in disbelief.

 Aleeza cackled again and again the fellas shuddered.

 “Made you? Lewis come on. All I said was either end things brutally by breaking and shattering her heart so she’d never recover, or I’d tell daddy dearest,” Aleeza said.

 Your eyes widened even more. She was blackmailing him.

 “Of course, you being you and so damn delicious, manly and sexy was ready to throw your hard-earned career to the side come what may just for that little slut. I can’t believe you were willing to have me tell her father and have him rip up your contract rather than break her heart.”

 She laughed maniacally and you swore outside got as dark as midnight though it was probably only noon. Across from you, Miles had a panicked look on his face, and he was mouthing; “what the fuck” over and over.

 “I could never do that to her.”

 “Yet you did. Tell me was it only because I said she’d end up in another unfortunate accident like her car accident a few months ago?”

 A disturbing thought filled you. Was Aleeza behind your car accident? The police deemed it a drunk driver who’d ran out of the car to avoid being caught but could it have been a hired goon who had been paid to plow into you as you stood outside the Gala that night waiting for Lewis to bring his car around? Goosebumps peppered your flesh as so many emotions coursed through you.

 “Was it you?”

 As if he’d heard your thoughts, Lewis asked what you wanted to know.

“Me?”

 “Were you behind the accident then?”

 A long silence filled the room as you anxiously waited for her answer. You were ready to leap over the bar and beat it out of her. Thankfully she spoke.

 “If only that idiot hadn’t fucked up the first accident. She’d be long gone by now and I would be the sole inheritor to Jordan’s estate when he dies. So, this plan worked well too. Anyway, it was you who decided how to break her heart. You made that choice all by yourself and might I add what an incredible choice it was. My, my when you go you go all out.”

 She cackled some more.

 “After everything we’d been through there was no way she’d believe anything else.”

 He sounded dejected and heartbroken.

 “And believe you she did. That show was incredible. I was just—”

 She slow clapped for him, and each heavy-handed clap echoed sounding more and more like the annoying clash cymbals.

 “Watching it I couldn’t believe it. Then when she revealed that you’d taken her virginity, holy hell what a fucking plot twist! The little slut really wasn’t a slut but a total prude.”

 She cackled some more, and the fellas looked sympathetically to you. You didn’t know what the hell to say at this point. This was too much.

 “Bravo. You did more than a job well done. Shattered her heart, broke her faith in men and stole her virginity.”

 “Where in your plan did you figure you’d get me in your bed after this?”

 Another long silence.

 “I mean after you’d pulled off all of these disgusting things revealing your true face. Why would I ever sleep with you?”

 “You’ve slept with far worse.”

 He scoffed.

 “Then I can still blackmail you with your deflowering of your boss’ innocent daughter oh and your falling out which put her in the hospital. Either you give me what I want, or you would have done all this for nothing, broken her heart, and lost your career.”

 Her heels clinked again a few times. She wasn’t walking away she was getting closer to him.

 “Come on Lewis, it’s easy. All I want is that part of you that you’ve given to soooo many before Y/N.”

 “Dick. You did all of this for dick.”

 “Your dick and to ruin that little bitch. Do I have to ruin you too? Why not keep the one thing you have left.”

 “I can tell Y/N.”

 She laughed again. “Like she’d believe that incredulous story of me making you sleep with other girls. Hell like she’d speak to you. I’ve seen the freeze out. Yikes, it’s almost like you broke her heart.”

 “You’re evil, pure evil.”

 “Watch it, Lewis. Your career and future are in my hands, or should I say my pussy. Please it and you will find salvation.”

 She chuckled. “You have 2 days. Buh-bye.”

 The annoying sound of her stupid heels clinked across the floor until they faded with the close of a door. No one moved for several moments. You didn’t think you could. Suddenly Miles sprang up.

 “What the Five Nights at Freddy’s fucking hell was that shit?!”

 Slowly, Andrew then Daniel stood as well. You could hear Miles carrying on, but you didn’t hear the words out of his mouth. You were too lost in your thoughts, too lost replaying all of that and trying to let it digest. You went over the entire thing in your head. You were so lost in your thoughts that you’d tuned everything out.

 When you saw Daniel come back over and stand in front of you, it barely registered. He stooped and held his hand out for you. Slowly, you pulled some of yourself together enough to acknowledge him there. When you took his hand, he stood leading you up.

It took a few moments but when Lewis saw you from across the room, he bolted to his feet. His eyes were wide as he crossed the room eyes never leaving you.

 “Y/N?”

 You stepped back though you were separated by the bar top. Lewis stopped.

 “Wha—what are you doing here? How’d you get in? Did—did you hear that?”

 He looked over to Daniel then back to you. A few moments later, he came around to you bucking his feet on your bags. You watched as the realization washed over him.

 “You—you didn’t come for me. You came to pack your things.”

 He sounded so hopeless, so hurt. Now more than ever you wanted to go to him, but you couldn’t move. What the fuck was real and what wasn’t? You were struggling to wrap your head around any of this.

 “What the fuck!”

 It was all you could say. Though there were plenty of words to say in your head, those were the only ones that made it through your lips. You could feel yourself beginning to panic. It was something you’d thought you worked through after the accident. You’d gone to therapy and everything to get over the panic and anxiety nearly being run over had caused. Now here it was again.

 Your airways tightened and soon the struggle wasn’t to wrap your head around this soap opera, it was to breathe. The less air you could get, the more you panicked. Soon you were surrounded by Lewis and his friends, each dictating to you how to breathe with panicked serial killer eyes or telling you to calm down as they were clearly not calm or straight up panicking along with you.

 The last thought you had was you were going to die surrounded by the four stooges. Then everything faded to black.

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

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#If this is love you need to prove it 2 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton angst #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton drabble #f1 fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton one shot

[mugentakeda]

scoring a job at the tea shop was too easy. but now that he’s staring at bowl of jasmine flowers next to the black blend, it might have been a dumb idea. it’s not busy enough to numb his stupid brain.

the owner, mr. dugu, a short middle aged man with greasy long hair, was all too happy to hire him. we could use a looker like you, it’ll bring all the women in!

lu ten thinks back to zhao and jiro in dismay. he highly doubts his love life will ever heal itself back to normalcy. azula would agree with that.

it’s probably for the best that zhao doesn’t know where i am, he muses, but jiro would probably try and send me money.

now that he thinks about it, mr. dugu kind of reminds him of jiro. just a few decades older, and in green. a slick and stout guy that thinks he’s all that and a bag of fireflakes. so slick, you wouldn’t see the earnest, hard working gentleman hidden beneath at first.

but his dad is in there too. with the crows feet, receding hairline, deep tea scent, big hands. laughter in his eyes, at just about anything.

in the tea shop, however, his dad is everywhere he looks. his dad is the smells, the old tea cup rings stained in the tables, every sun ray shining through the windows, the cheap peeling wallpaper with painted leaves floating in the wind.

is it betrayal, what he’s done? or is he just dying on the hill of what his gut tells him is right?

he’s forcing his heart and his gut to become one, so he can physically stand loving his father, but not liking his father, simultaneously. letting them both exist together, at the same time. it’s not life ruining or earth shattering. it just… is.

lu ten misses the parts of his dad that he enjoyed, with great guilt. the roughhousing, the morning meditation, a warm hand brushing through his feathery hair, carrying him to bed after a long day at the beach, dropping his bags and letting lu ten barrel into his arms at full force after weeks being gone, bickering over the do’s and don’ts of tea. things got spotty and more spaced out once he turned double digits, because at that point lu ten was old enough to go longer without seeing his father. he was a busy guy and lu ten had been okay with that. he’s never been someone that needed constant attention, anyway.

but those parts were only enough to satisfy the young lu ten who didn’t care what his dad was outside of being his dad. then his aunt was married into the family, and lu ten started caring about a whole lot of things.

his aunt and his cousins give him purpose. what would he be, without them? they shape his interests, his entire worldview, his habits, his sense of self. the areas of politics and legislation that he dipped his toes in as a prince were even influenced by them. he tells right from wrong by wondering, if it was your aunt and your cousins, would you be okay with it?

what ursa went through after having azula haunted his dreams. the afterbirth stench, her hyperventilating, hoarse wails. the fire sages and azulon and ozai all muttering to each other, just to add to the chaos. he’d gripped little zuko to his chest in the dark corridor across from her chambers like a vice, biting his lip in terror and cheeks flushing as hot tears rolled down his face. it was the worst thing he’d ever heard in his life, and nobody seemed to care.

then he finds out that his mother went through the same thing with him over morning tea with his grandfather. casually, like he was being informed of the weather.

she believed she had the right to name you toshiro, despite not showing any enthusiasm over you at any other time of day, azulon had grunted. i don’t know why he ever bothered with that commoner wretch. you’d still have a mother today if he hadn’t picked some halfwit dancer with a smart mouth, you know. i even went through the trouble of setting up a whole line of good, wellborn women right before him, and he didn’t entertain a single one! but i suppose it doesn’t matter now, seeing the fine young man you’ve become regardless. i was afraid you’d inherit her crassness, if you’ll forgive me.

so she got sick of the shit and disappeared. to this day, he barely knows what to do with that information.

he hates ozai for doing the same shit to his aunt that his own father did to his mom. forced, unwanted marriage. the pain and misery of childbirth. postpartum. making heirs. he fucking hates that word. heirs.

toshiro. it’s a good name.

he’d leave his dad if he were his mother, too. he did leave his dad.

mr. dugu asked after hiring him if he was a soldier, going by his posture. he’s no earthbender, and the scars are from trial and error lightning bolts. but there are nonbenders in the earth army, and lu ten can put his mouth where the money is when given a staff. so he says yes.

that must be why i like you so much, mr. dugu had sighed. my own boy is a little older than you and lives in ba sing se with his old lady, as a teacher in a little kid’s school. he’s a bender, so he enlisted to help fight- but that stubborn old prince bastard is persistent. you know the ash and blood is filthying their water? his old lady is pregnant, and she has no clean water to drink. it’s unbelievable! but that ashmaker doesn’t realize how steadfast the good people of the earth kingdom are. the spirits will deliver them, and he’ll tuck his tail between his legs and run for the hills.

filthy water also means sick livestock. and sick livestock means sick people when the livestock is eaten. sick people means sick mothers and children, and sick doctors that can’t help sick pregnant mothers give birth. and then ba sing se is cut off from incoming supplies due to his father’s army, so they’re probably rationing the medicine. so sick pregnant mothers giving birth without proper medicine, without proper doctors because they’re also all sick. that leads to dying mothers, dying newborns, or mothers and newborns dying together.

lu ten just isn’t sure his father realizes little stuff like that. or maybe he does, and just doesn’t care. and that thought makes him so angry, he doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

his father had acted like all that was happening in the impenetrable city was something funny in his letters. along with a couple of thinly veiled pleads for lu ten to quit being stubborn and join him already.

narrow, ignorant self-interest does not impress him. its ugly coming from his own father. its even uglier on a man that’s supposed to lead their fucking country one day. lu ten will not be the same. the people he loves most in this world cannot afford for him to be the same.

you have a savvy for diplomacy, zhao had snapped at him. your father could use something like that. what’s keeping you here? don’t you see benefits waiting to be reaped from this? your cousins will still be here when your father succeeds! get over yourself!

“diplomacy,” lu ten sneers out loud. then sighs loudly in frustration when he knocks the cup over with a jerky hand.

one minute ba sing se is being taken by his dad so it can become one with the fire nation. the next minute he’s burning it to the ground. if it’s the fire nation, why in the all fuck is he ruining it? is that not counter-productive? is that not hypocrisy? what diplomacy is there to be had when there’s nothing left of the city?

but then, people on the homeland get arrested for some real petty shit. the colonial towns get paid dust. his dad killed the last dragon, despite a good portion of lu tens childhood folktales composing of dragons. despite agni herself being depicted as a dragon. a million things that he never questioned before that make no sense to him now that he has the freedom and time to truly ponder.

the spirits are not to be trifled with or questioned, my son. the spirits can even judge the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

lu ten isn’t a man who claims to know the spirits ways, nor does he question them. he wasn’t there when they laid foundation to the earth. he doesn’t know who determined its measurements. but he does know that agni wouldn’t deliver a message so stupid and pointless.

he just questions his father, and the authenticity of his pointless quest to flatten a city being spirit-sent.

what do you wanna bet he used the wrong kind of flower for his tea and was just tripping balls?

the more he thinks about it the less grace his train of thought is willing to spare.

he’s so mad that he can’t like his dad. he’s so mad that he exists at the cost of his mother’s everything. he’s so mad that everything his proud, beautiful country stands on and believes in has the strength of a single grain of rice. he can’t bare the thought of just continuing to ignore it to maintain his sanity- he’s never been so glad to be an adult with a brain and not a kid in his own little world- but realizing things is so painful. its only ever painful. he wants to curl up in a ball and rot away. the guilt and anger is mind numbing.

do you think of me with as much frustration as i think of you, dad? do you sit and ruin your own day trying to understand what goes on in my head, or is it just me?

the fumes from the boiling teapot steam his face as he bends over it slowly, trying to curb the acid crawling up his throat like a demon emerging from hell. static curls up and down his arms and brings his hair straight up, the heat bleeding from the tips of his fingers and his palms into the counter is teetering on the edge of unbearable-

“cousin?” a little voice startles him out of his thoughts.

he pauses, and turns his head.

zuko’s standing there in front of mr. dugu, who’s grinning at him cheekily.

zuko is wearing a green apron that drags on the floor. the anger building in his chest melts like chocolate over a fire. the counter is already cooling beneath his steel grip.

“…li,” he greets, weak humor in his voice. “what’s shaking?”

the kid flushes. “i got bored and walked here from mom’s work. and mr. dugu said no loitering in his store. so i’m….. hired.”

“are you a seasonal employee?” lu ten snorts.

“i don’t even know what that means,” zuko replies curtly. he doesn’t realize his sass definitely matches azula’s. “i can bring the tea to the customers.”

“well,” lu ten sighs, “i believe i’ve scalded the hell out of this jasmine by accident. give me a few minutes and i’ll happily provide you with something drinkable.”

“…do better!” his baby cousin orders awkwardly. and so he does, because lu ten is only ever the loyal servant to his baby cousins.

zuko brings the tea to the customers. every time lu ten hears his lispy little voice thank them for their patronage in monotone, he can’t help the way his lips quirk in amusement.

“the girls in the front kept baby-talking me,” his little cousin grumps later that day. “i had to run away before they got the chance to pinch my face.”

mr. dugu laughs, and pats zuko’s little shoulder heartily. lu ten’s heart aches. he can think he hates ignorance until the sheep-cows come home, but there’s nothing crueler than seeing his father in this man’s mannerisms, who’s son could be dead or alive at this very moment, due to his father in question.

“just be glad your sister wasn’t here to see it,” he replies, lest he choke himself up with his own angsting.

zuko huffs and slides off the chair he’d been sitting crosslegged on. “mr. dugu, could i take some cakes from the back to my sister? she’s a sweet tooth.”

“it’ll be coming out of your paycheck,” the man replies teasingly.

zuko frowns like a cranky owlcat. “i don’t know what that word means either.” and with that, he stomps to the back.

“that one’s a trip alright,” mr. dugu laughs. “and you say the younger one is even worse?”

“sure is,” lu ten sighs happily. “they both are the worst. i’m wrapped around their greedy little fingers. they don’t let me hold the house keys, but they’ll let me buy them candy.”

“it’ll be like that forever,” mr. dugu says sagely. “my only son is now a grown man with a wife of his own, and soon, he’ll make me a grandfather. but at the end of the day, he’s always gonna be my precious boy. my baby. and no matter what, i want him to always know he can come back home to me. despite everything. no matter what.”

the man deflates suddenly. “if anything, i might just beg him to come back home to me, once ba sing se chases that scumbag away. i have enough room to house the three of them. my boy lives and breathes to be a teacher in the city, but this old heart can’t take not knowing….”

he trails off, and pushes over a rock with his foot glumly. “they say he has children, too. the fire nation prince attacking the city, i mean.”

lu ten’s blood turns to ice in an instant.

“i doubt one such as he would feel anything if he lost them. if a man can kill another man’s child, i believe he’d might as well kill his very own. and this father would protect every child in this village as his own. you, and your little monster cousins. you know?”

agni is a big blurry dot in his vision, and he swallows hard. “yeah. yeah, i do. this one thanks you for it.”

he holds zuko’s little hand tighter than usual as they go to pick ursa and azula up from the florist.

#this took me ALL DAY to finish. ALL DAY #and idk if its even good or not but we move. #i hope you guys can forgive me sneaking a jiro mention in. i love my ocs #IROHS POV COMING UP NEXT WHOS READY TO RUMBLEEEE #runaway fire fam au #alicias writing stuff

[daemon-in-my-head]

Hot take, but I think Gortash has immense self hatred and actively choses to be miserable.

It would be easy just to go back home. His parents love him now. He has the money to fix everything. He controls them. There's no way they can harm him anymore. And yet he doesn't. He stays away, in his fortress, in his Iron Throne. In scarcely decorated places that lack most comfort.

It would be easy to use his money to look spotless, splendid, to blend in with society and be just like the others, just how his parents always wanted him to be. But he doesn't. Instead, he continues to be eccentric. And worst of all, he wears all the symbolism of the hell he's just escaped. The tormentor of his childhood is everywhere.

It would've been easy to discard everything and run away with Durge. He got them to defy their father to a frightening degree. If he had tried, he could've convinced them. It would've saved himself, Durge, both of them if he did. And yet he pushed forward, even knowing what he did and what end would eventually wait for him.

Gortash apparently knew the brain was changing. But he decided to do and say nothing about it. I love me some unhinged Orin but I'd argue she'd be reasonable enough to postpone her bloodkin lobotomy plans if she caught wind of an elder brain changing into a netherbrain thanks to said bloodkin doing funny stuff. They could've prevented this whole story if my guy had simply said something. But he decided to just, not?

He's deeply contradictory. He's a genius, but his mistakes and faults in his plans are evident to even the greatest fools. He's determined to be loved, to be a hero, and yet when he's offered love, or heroism he turns away from it.

Also did I mention that he's the one person who can legitimately turn on his patron but refuses to? Ketheric can't because otherwise Isobel is forsaken. Durge and Orin can't because Bhaal can just barge in and control them like the puppets they are, but Bane? He doesn't have a hold like this over Gortash. Gortash doesn't even seem to fear him as much as he'd like. And yet that man refuses to turn his back on a deity who will torture his soul for fuck all reasons without really receiving smth in return. He just keeps going knowing he can't win.

Oh and the whole 'putting Bhaals handcrafted scion on a leash' bit? Normal people would stay a safe distance away from people that can and will gut them for minor reasons, but he decided to understand that as a challenge?

I'd argue he's just an arrogant maniac, but the utter disregard of his safety kinda goes against that. Being a tyrant is cool but you can only properly tyrant if you're alive, and Gorty over here is making 0 efforts to improve his life or keep it for that matter.

#like for someone who loves himself #hes doing a lot of shit that doesnt match that claim #my guy just went 'i can ruin myself' and dashed odf #i get that you can read twisted motivation etc into stuff too #but if you line everything up like that #it does seem kinda odd #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #lord gortash

[lemon-muncher]

Yooo, its Aly. I have a request for you .

Can you do Sub!Bakugo and Sub!Kirishima getting pegged/ fucked by GN! OR Male!Reader it can be separate or a threesome does not matter to me <3!

TY, AstonomicalAlyy 💫.

Hehehehe😈

I saw this and got super excited. I'm gonna do this one in the style of a headcanon post cause I wanna do both Kirishima and Bakugou separate and together. Anyways, enjoy! Oh, I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible...

Katsuki Bakugou

-One word: Slut

-Katsuki Bakugou is an absolute slut for anal play. It confuses you, and him. Something so vulnerable with his head strong personality just mix ... and you suck it up ;]

-Despite stating he's the dominant one in the relationship, he's very submissive when being fucked. He's a sucker for good old fashion doggy style. He wants you fast and deep inside of him, rearranging his guts in all the best ways.

-Starts off with heavy groans (he's trying to hold on to his dignity) by the time you replace your fingers with your cock, those groans turn into high pitched screams. Sometimes you think he's chanting in an ancient language from his incoherent whines

-If you're feeling generous or just want to hear his pretty crys and don't feel like gaging him, he will somehow get his spit everywhere. You can't tell me when he's fucked out of his mind that he doesn't drool. (Definitely inspired you to dress him up as a dog... you pervert;] ) Yeah, there's always huge pools of saliva left on your sheets afterwards

-I know I call you guys perverts but HIM?!?!?! He is the kinkiest mofo, besides Denki Kaminari, to exist. He's definitely had fantasy of you fucking him stupid infront of Midoriya to prove he has you all to himself. Yeah... you've probably thought of it to

Eijiro Kirishima

-Resident good boy

-He's a big guy, that doesn't mean he doesn't want to be treated like he's made of glass. Such a pretty pillow prince

-Needs to be soft dommed. You would probably have to take up the role of a service dom because as a sub, Ei is just kinda useless... He's sensitive, so after an orgasm or two his body and brain have no energy.

-Prefers to be fucked slow but hard and deep. Even though he's practically unbreakable due to his quirk, a few deep thrusts into him and he feels like you reached his throat. He wants to break from the feeling.

-A fan of being able to look at you while having sex. He finds it more romantic:>

-His moans.... AHHHHHHHHH they're so pretty. His moans come from the bottom of his throat, they're long and sultry. Just hearing them makes you throb a little.

-Definitely the type to be a silent screamer when you finally hit his prostate head on. His head falls to the pillows under his head and his large hands reach out to hold on to you. Has definitely accidentally activated his quirk from this at least once.

-Call him a good boy. He thrives off of praise inside and outside of the bedroom. He needs to know he's doing a good job, he'll cry without it....

Katsuki + Eijiro

-A worshiper and a brat..... oh boy

-Bless your soul for having to deal with them. You have to be a service dom and a brat tamer at the same time. It's exhausting but it's worth it to see your boys satisfied.

-They both are attention whores, they want you to look at them and only one of them. Eijiro turns into a brat and Katsuki...he just gets worse. Eijiro will start to act out so you can shift your attention towards him, even if for a second. Katsuki becomes a nuisance, he'll rile you up around his friends only to ignore you the second you decide to indulge into his games.

-Most if the time, you usually end up having Eijirou in a full nelson, his feet close to his head as you pound into him. He'll be gaged as punishment for acting out. Edge him for hours and when you think he's had enough, immediately go into overestimating him. Milk him of 3 or 4 orgasms. He wants you to stop but also to keep going. He just wants to feel you.

-As you edge/overstim Ei, Katsuki will be restrained to your bed post with a sounding rod in his cock. He is also gaged but can hear and see everything. You leave him there to watch the two people he care about satisfy each other without him. It definitely turns him on but makes him lonely as well. Once Eijiro is too fucked up to comprehend anything, you move to Katsuki.

-The second you unchain him, he'll start sobbing, telling you how sorry he is for misbehaving. After a stern look, he'll think of every way to praise you. His mind will probably go to trying to suck you off but you have other plans.

-Put him in a headlock and fuck the shit out of him! Be as rough as you want. Pull his hair, force your finger down his throat, smack him like a common whore. He loves it. His eyes will roll to the back of his head in no time and drool will fall from his lips.

-He thanks you..... HE THANKS YOU LIKE A GOD ....I love it

- After a few rounds, Katsuki will collapse next to Eijiro, both of them having sheepish grins on their fucked out faces. All you can do is stare in exhaustion at the sight. It really is beautiful

Yes....just yes

#bnha #mha #dom reader #sub character #sub bakugou #sub kirishima #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou

[paganminiskirt]

“Resident Evil 7’s most impressive accomplishments are in how it crafts the terror of it’s villains from those thorny existential questions [of immortality.] Jack is one of my favorite antagonists of any horror game because of his manic desperation. He is cruel, domineering, exceptionally violent, but the heart of his character is absurd helplessness. What’s happening to him is impossible, he can’t make it stop, and so he has given up on caring and reason entirely. Nothing matters. Not his body, not your body, it’s all just meat. The early confrontations with Jack are all wildly memorable because the worst damage isn’t anything that Ethan does, but what Jack does to himself to try to scare the shit out of Ethan, and the player as well. Self preservation is such a universal motivation that even without language it can be counted on. Hell, a thing doesn’t even have to be a mammal. Scorpions and spiders don’t wish to die either, and will act accordingly when endangered. To truly, truly not care, and have it be physically meaningless is an irrationality that goes against something deep in the ancient parts of the brain. Zombies might be the living dead, but they can be returned to the grave with a bullet to the brain in most lore, including Resident Evil’s. This is a different kind of monster, and a different kind of impulse of fear and anxiety.”

“The fear of zombies is mostly in their overwhelming numbers and the ease with which you become one of them. Consider, instead, [the] chainsaw duel with Jack. It’s absurd, even comedic, like it was when Dennis Hopper had his chainsaw duel in 1986’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2, yet that is clearly exactly why Jack is doing it, precisely because it is nihilistically absurd. Because he’s not afraid of what might happen if Ethan wins. It’s just meat. No meaning. Jack laughs as you kill him, spilling the molded guts of him everywhere. And, of course, he does come back in an even more massive and monstrous form - Jack’s nihilism was right on the money. Pain is a spiral leading ever inward and downward. His body is now even further gone. His consciousness is trapped as ever. Nothing did change, even when Ethan turned him into a gut slushee. That sympathetic position of helplessness deep inside him is what allows Jack to be truly frightening. Because you’re not just fighting the monster. You’re fighting the idea that the monster could be you under different circumstances. Hell, for Ethan, maybe just further down the line in these exact circumstances.”

A Thorough Look At Resident Evil, Noah Caldwell-Gervais

#jack baker #ethan winters #resident evil 7

[inchidentallybackup]

ok so I am obsessed with this poetry/Oscar series by @piastriachios and I need to just put my thoughts here rather than messing with the visuals of the post

the fact that so much is emphasized about how poetry is this clean, pure line of thought from brain to pen when so many people see it as "flowery" or "fussy" or worse, intellectual in an elitist sense. and it's like the way people (looking at you, Dax Sh*pard) see Oscar and assume he's Just a Guy and casually fling all these bro-ey assumptions at him thinking he'll pick them up and play ball. but every time one of those comes at him Oscar visibly withdraws and casts that Australian sound-of-hesitation-and-disagreement and hits back with something much simpler and nothing to do with outside approval. he has A-levels in maths, physics and computer science but he also chooses daring and risk above all else. he said goodbye to his dad and lived half a world away from his family from age 14, pushed himself to succeed at school alongside his racing career, stood up against an entire F1 team to choose where he took his F1 seat, and has had one of the ballsiest rookie seasons for a long time.

the emphasis on the bravery and the guts it takes to compose poetry as well - how exposed you are. and there's Oscar following on from Carlos and Daniel as Lando's teammate hot on the heels of controversy - and he makes the solid decision to just be himself, with absolutely nothing in common with the naturally media-friendly big personalities that came before him. it feels so tempting to class him as awkward or just shy but it's not the case. he will not dance when told to and he won't fill space if it doesn't feel right. he won't play even a somewhat false part to Lando for the sake of winning over fans and media (a lot of whom already looked askance at him). he also isn't humble and deferential to Lando just for the impression it will give. he knows he's the rookie and he knows Lando is the established F1 driver. none of that matters on the track of course. but everywhere else, it does. so it matters to him.

and then there's his unbroken resilience and lack of relationship with regret. he celebrates with humility as well as pride when he does well, and stares disappointment down with that determined look on his face. because of course he feels things and of course it's more than what he will allow just anyone to know about him. but even that is strategic and smart. his own family told him that to pursue this career the way he wanted he would have to largely be solitary. he didn't even find a girlfriend just to have someone around to absorb the loneliness as so many young men do, she has her own education and career and family and has only been to certain races each year. and his choice was to not try and find a new family but to be his own man. "that's the type of chaos that happens when your brain interferes with your body". he knows what things he's supposed to be doing and what his responsibilities are meant to be. it isn't his job yet to try and be more for the sake of someone else or worry about what he'll be expected to do in the future. that will be then, this is now.

"thinking will make mistakes" and if that doesn't describe Oscar's approach of demanding space to be deliberate and comfortable. a huge amount of Lando's discussions about his own mental health are on him trying to live more for the moment and to not get stuck in his own head. he said of the Sprint win 'Oscar didn't make any mistakes and I did, so he deserved that win more than me' (paraphrased). Lando also said that he's gained a lot from having Oscar as a teammate and that's honestly an understatement for Lando's success in the 2023 season. they're both preternaturally disposed to view life and racing in totally different but not remotely clashing ways. Oscar's clarity and ability to remain in the moment is something Lando's always known he needs more of because it sharpens and hones his own abilities the way it does for Oscar. it's like having a walking buddy who keeps pointing at things on the horizon and making you look up to see. you don't have to see in the same way or even see the same things, you just have to remember to look.

"kick against words as you would kick back on a swing" and "you've got to feel as if the soles of your feet are touching the sky" godddd when you watch the races from the onboards and appreciate the rocket science and mortal risk of each and every race - and how vastly different F1 is to F2 and why so many young men are denied a seat… Oscar could never be the placid creature he seems when he's outside the car. it's just that who he really is exists when he's in the car and life for him outside of it is something different. he's possibly the most 'purely driven by a passion for racing' racing driver in a Prostian sense for a long time. (Max being a different kettle of fish entirely and not my topic to get into) but there's a lack of alpha male anger and hostility to him that existed in those previous generations that I think is what propelled him in the Qatar sprint and has resulted in his passing looking like someone who's more like three or four years into his F1 career than a rookie. Oscar will not give up his daring for anyone or anything. that's the truth of that bright crimson streak across his cheeks when he lifts his helmet off before he slowly becomes pale and retiring again.

I just really love that post and it was completely unnecessary and probably very unpoetic of me to ramble about it like this but it's intended as fully appreciative <3

#landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #mine #long post

[jacksprostate]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The five days Tyler's stolen my voice from me, I spend watching. The commons, group therapy. I visit my cave with my eyes open. Mills should get used to the cold. I've heard if it drops below 50 while your respiration is this depressed, you go to sleep and never wake up.

Valley of the Dogs.

An orderly with fresh bruises peppering his temple lets me take my walk in the same time Mills is carted around. This is how I must've looked for months. Glazed. Drooling. At this point they probably have to use elephant tranquilizers on me, the tolerance I've built.

God, his petty ass, we meet up for one on one and he says he has to give me some bad news.

No, it's not about Mills.

Tyler, whatever.

He is giving me the bad news, of the passing of one Marla Singer. Everyone seems to think this is bad news. Found dead in her apartment because she didn't pick up any Meals on Wheels for her neighbors for three weeks, and they worried about those little old ladies, up there all starving alone since their angel in black stopped showing up.

Her corpse was found, instead. I imagine it all waxy, tits rotted off just like she said, at some point you're so sick even the bacteria in your gut won't bother decomposing you. I imagine Marla's skin pulling back, fleeing, away from her eyes, her teeth, like a mummy. Dried out as all her collagen rots.

Paper clutched in her hand. A will, sort of hasty and half-assed.

Marla's many worldly possessions all fit on a hotel notepad.

Many other worthless things go to a small number of worthless people Marla has mentioned leaving behind in her life, and god says, Marla Singer has left me something.

That's the entire reason I get to know all of this.

If not, I would've never known.

The world could blow up, and you'd never know in here unless it was in someone's will to tell you.

Marla Singer left me her dildo.

Oh, Marla.

Addressed me in the will half the time as Tyler.

I wonder, did the cancer spread from her tits to her brain, like the cancer I didn't have. It's everywhere now. God says they're working out treatment. I wonder if it matters.

Without Tyler between us, I don't really know what connected me and Marla.

What kept her calling.

I liked her. Another psycho boyfriend in her stories. There will never be another, unless she's gone to Heaven, the real one, and they've got some sort of exchange program going on for her to have fun with.

I think Marla might deserve that. She deserved better than this.

I wonder if it was pills. There was no Tyler to save her, this time. No one to listen to her death rattle. I don't have the voice to ask.

I won't be getting her dildo, because you don't get possessions in a psych ward. It'll get dumped in some other landfill to persist for time immemorial with all the other plastic iconography of our stupid, stupid lives.

Released back out to pasture, I watch Mills. His wife was murdered. Murdered, you see, it's an action, and it's solvable. Mills solved it.

You can't solve the slow death. Not really.

I think about how empty Mills is.

Am I empty?

An unidentifiable amount of time ago, Marla called me again, and she told me all about what happens at the new support groups she goes to, since I ruined the old ones for her. They were willing to rally behind her for the whole blowing my brains out show, and she only would've had to wait them out for six months or so, but she decided to just find new ones. A new church, with new temptations like Living With Angels, a group for those caring for severe dementia patients, and Recovery Road: a program for those trying to rebuild their lives after a loved one blew them up. She said, when I got out, we could both go to that one, and I could talk about Tyler, and she could talk about me, and we could have fun getting kicked out together.

Marla was always talking about that. When I got out.

I wasn't ever hearing any of it.

Mills, they've let up on him, finally, you can see his eyeballs aren't floating with all they've juiced him up on. He's watching me, back.

I wonder if he knows about Marla.

Would Tyler care?

Tyler had said, don't call this love.

Does it need to be?

When I get my voice back, I bury my thoughts on the subject and Marla and everything in a relentless campaign to needle Mills until he looks like a voodoo doll in a shitty tourist trap.

#fight club #my writing #se7en (1995) #se7en #something smth destabilizing parallel event #i always think abt how marlas time is limited. another thing i hate abt chucks sequels. they do what the movie does and just ignore her own #shit?? #anyway the narrator doesn't know how to handle this because his little rat ass could barely handle how he felt about marla on a good day #if this seems like it came out of the blue. i alluded to it earlier haha #this is like 3k now and i have 2k notes... oopsie

[turtlecleric]

What Did I Do?

---

Rise!Raph x Reader - NSFW with HEAVY ANGST - I'm serious, there is so much hurt and NO comfort. This is not a spicy fic with a twist at the end to make it all better. No one has a good time in this. HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS. (3403 words)

CWs: kidnapping, being drugged/forced into an altered state of mind, FORCED NON CON, shock torture, blood, murder

This is your last warning - please take care of yourself and skip this if these topics are uncomfortable for you! Especially my dears on the tag list, please please please ignore this one if these topics are upsetting!!

---

When Raphael wakes, the first thing he notices is a smell. He can’t quite place it, but it's everywhere, and it makes something stir deep in his gut, makes something primal and dangerous thrum in his veins. He has to push it down to even try focusing on anything else. 

The second thing he notices is a sound. A sort of… whirring. Or maybe humming? He isn’t quite sure. The smell is really, really distracting.

Wait, what’s happening again? Where is he?

His eyes blink open. Metal ceiling. Metal floor. Metal walls. And to his right, there’s a metal table with- 

No. Oh, no.

Adrenaline floods through him, memories of the fight before the tranquilizers took him down flashing in his mind. He struggles to coordinate his limbs, tries to push himself up and fails. He falls once, twice. Again. Again. He can’t think straight, can’t use his muscles like he should. When he finally manages to stand and stumble over to the table, sick horror wraps around his throat and tightens like a noose. 

You’re on your back, naked except for the ropes wrapped around you and some sort of… metal collar around your neck. Arms tied behind you, legs bent and bound so that your calves are flush against the underside of your thighs. There’s a ball gag in your mouth, and a machine is steadily pumping an enormous dildo in and out of you. It’s the whirring of this machine that he was hearing when he woke up, and the smell, he realizes, is you. The smell of your slick, your sweat, your tears and spit running down your face, and then he recognizes the smell of blood-

Raph reaches for you and pulls you away from the machine carefully. Thankfully there’s nothing stopping him from doing so, but once you’re in his arms he can feel how much you’re shaking. Can see how unfocused your eyes are as tears stream steadily down the sides of your face. You’re not reacting to him. Even when he says your name, there’s no recognition, no change in your eyes. There’s only fear. 

A man’s voice sounds from everywhere at once.

“We’ve been stretching her out for you. Preparing her for this.”

Raph feels his horror mix with rage. Confusion. Desperation. This is- this is sick. Whatever is happening, whatever these fuckers want, it doesn’t matter. He’s getting you out. He holds you closer to his plastron and reaches for his ninpo, tries to to breathe through the heaviness in his limbs and the fog in his brain. Latches on to his rage like a lifeline, and he’s pleasantly surprised to see red sparks start running up and down his arms.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

Raph bares his teeth at the ceiling, looking around for a window, a security camera, anything. There’s nothing. Just metal. “As if I’m listening to you,” he snarls. “I don’t care who you are, when I find you I’m going to rip you limb from limb for this.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Suddenly you’re jerking in his arms, every muscle in your body tensing as guttural screams rip from your throat, muffled by the gag in your mouth. The sparks along Raph’s arms disappear as he panics and reaches for the collar around your neck. When he tries to pry it off of you, your shrieking and twisting worsen, and he pulls his hand away like he’s been burned. “Stop, stop, please,” he begs, turning his face to the ceiling. “Okay, I’m stopping, I’m not doing anything, please!”

You choke, and then your body relaxes, still trembling but no longer convulsing like before. You let out a whimper with every exhale, your chest heaving with sobs as you struggle to breathe. It’s like a gaping wound in his chest, how he feels listening to the sounds you’re making. A sharp drag of claws across the inside of his ribcage. He shakes his head weakly, watching your eyes flutter, watching you shudder as he holds you in his arms helplessly. He leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He can smell something burning, and when he lifts his head and looks at you more closely he realizes it must be your skin beneath the collar. The rage is still there - suffocating, overwhelming - but what can he do that won’t end with you hurting more? 

“What do you want?” Raph grits out.

“I want more of you,” the voice says, seemingly bored. “It’s my job to ensure the earth’s protection, and we need some kind of contingency plan if another invasion happens. I saw how your family stepped up ten years ago with the krang. With how powerful you four are, I can only imagine how powerful any offspring would be when raised and trained properly.” 

The words hit Raphael like a truck. His jaw drops, his eyes falling to your face as he tries to process the fucked up implications in them. He thinks he might actually throw up. Then a hissing sound pulls his attention, and he looks up to see that holes have appeared in the ceiling. There’s the unmistakable shimmer in the air around them that means they’re blowing some sort of gas into the room. 

“We’ve noticed that you and your brothers don’t have naturally occurring mating seasons. Don’t worry, we’ve prepared for that, as well.”

The rage and panic threaten to overwhelm him completely. He’s shaking now, as well, clenching his jaw so tight he just might crack a tooth with the force of it, and almost immediately the effects of the gas hit him. His vision goes a little hazy, that stirring in his gut from earlier returning a hundred times worse. Suddenly, the feeling of you in his arms makes his chest rumble with a churr, and the smell of you has his eyes roll back in his head. 

NO. 

Raph shakes his head violently, his entire body shuddering as he places you gently on the floor. He needs to get away from you. Now. He stumbles to the far corner of the room, trying to breathe through the way his body is- his body is- is-

Wait. What's happening again? 

He was… fighting something? Or- or resisting… something… but… he turns, taking in the sight of the room. You're here? You're here with him, and he doesn't see a threat or… it's just you. You, you, you, that's all he can think about. He can smell you. He can smell- fuck, you smell amazing. He can't quite… focus…

His mate. His mate is here. That's all that matters. You're here, and you're his, and…

Right?

Wait, this isn't… No. No, he has to stay away from you. This is all so fucked up, this isn't right. You haven't agreed to any of this, he shouldn't…

Every breath makes it harder to think. The smell of you is everywhere. His body is one enormous, pulsing heartbeat. He can't think. He can't-

Why isn't he holding you? Kissing you? You smell like sex, and you're his, so why isn't he fucking you right now? Why isn't he- he swivels, disoriented, seeking you out. There. You're right there, waiting for him. Ready and open and wet, just for him. 

No, no, this is all wrong. Isn't it? Something is wrong. Raph tries to shake his head again, desperately tries, tries, tries to remember what's happening, to stay present in his own mind, but his thoughts are so goddamn scattered. He feels himself slipping, but he doesn't know how. There's this pull that he feels in every part of him, this need to be near you. Touch you. Hold you. 

Why isn't he---

The relief is staggering when he cradles you against his plastron. You're warm in his arms. Smell so good. Why did he ever leave you? He should stay with you always, his perfect, pretty little mate. Pretty and warm and soft. He'll take care of you. Fill you up, fuck pretty little babies into you. You're already wet and ready for him, perfect, his, his, his, and- oh. The sound you make when he presses himself inside you only makes his spine tingle more. You feel so fucking good around him. Taking him like you were meant to, perfect thing just for him. Pretty noises, pretty mate, so pretty beneath him. He gets lost in the feeling of you clenching around him, writhing beneath him. You're perfect. Tight and wet and so, so-

Why are you screaming? 

He can't stop rutting into you, but he does manage to slow the movement of his hips just a bit. Maybe he's going too fast. It's okay. It's okay, he'll take care of you, pretty girl. You're his. Nobody can hurt you when he's here. He'll go slower. Be more careful. He rubs his snout against your forehead, churrs a little louder. It's okay. 

There's this burning smell peeking through the heavy scent of sex now that his snout is pressed against your throat. Burning and blood. But it's only him and you - no danger that he can see. No threats. He licks along your jaw. Nuzzles into your ear. But it's not enough, because you're still screaming, but you're safe? It's only him here. So why- he can't remember wh-

Hissing. Something is. Hissing. 

You feel so good. You're so good. Good mate. Pretty, perfect thing. Letting him breed you, letting him-

Why are you crying? Why does he smell so much blood? He can't think. Can't focus past the haze in his mind and the fire in his belly and the way you feel so goddamn good around his cock. He can't- fuck, he can't help but lose himself in the feeling of fucking you. 

But you- you're- 

Something is wrong. You shouldn't be making those sounds. Like you're in pain, like you…

His perfect mate. It's okay. He'll take care of you. Protect you. No one will hurt you, it's okay. It's okay. 

When you go competely still and quiet beneath him, his churr makes something metallic in the room rattle. You just needed time to adjust. Perfect, pretty little thing, just needed some time. Even when he starts to go faster, harder than before, you're still and quiet. Such a perfect, pretty thing taking him so well. Good mate. So good for him. Just for him, you're his, and he's going to take care of you. 

The third release he spills inside of you lifts the fog enough for him to realize that your eyes are closed. Your face is slack. He starts to pull back, confusion and concern cutting through the waves of pleasure, but then there's a hissing sound. A shimmer in the air.

What was he…

You feel so good around him. 

---

This Bishop guy isn't going to give them anything useful. Leo can already tell. They've only just finished tying him up and started asking questions, but Leo has learned over the years who will and won't talk. He's just spouting bullshit about protecting the earth, making necessary sacrifices, blah blah blah. And while they play at interrogation, these government guys could be doing anything to Raph. They don't have the luxury of time. 

Leo turns his focus to the wall of computers and buttons behind Bishop, instead, and nods toward it. “Dee.”

Donnie sweeps past Bishop, reaching out and connecting his ninpo to the tech there. The room lights up purple, and then Donnie speaks. “Tracker was accurate. Raph is just on the other side of this wall.” One of the screens comes to life, a live feed showing the hulking figure of their brother hunched over something on the floor. They can't see his face, but the relief of seeing him clearly alive is enough to relax Leo's shoulders a bit. Still. Raph is… he's moving strangely. Almost like… “There's several safety measures in place to prevent a breach, plus some sort of gas they've been pumping in there and a remote connection to a shock collar. I've disabled all of them.”

Donnie goes on to say something about applying a virus that will shut down the mainframe for good and erase any and all information that's even remotely related to them. Leo flicks his eyes back to Bishop, smirking when he sees the man's lips and brow twitch. He's annoyed. Good. In a different situation, Leo might have fun making this bastard regret every decision he's made that led him to this moment. But they have more important things to worry about. 

“Alright,” Leo says. “Let's get him out of-”

Bishop scoffs suddenly. Mikey winces in Leo's peripheral vision, knowing what's coming when Leo pauses. Waits.

“You think it's over? I've got plans, mutant. Big plans. The snapper is just the beginning.”

The rage simmers beneath Leo's scales, but he's long since learned how to breathe past that. He crouches and holds Bishop's gaze, studying what he sees there, and when Leo speaks again, his voice is flat. “You're a smart guy, Bishop.”

“Not smart enough to keep his mouth shut,” Donnie mumbles dryly. Leo continues.

“I'm sure you do have plans. But if you wanted to live long enough to see them through-” Bishop opens his mouth to reply, but before he can make a sound, Leo snaps his neck. “-then you never should've fucked with my family.”

Mikey makes a sound of discomfort behind him. Another nod from Leo, and Donnie summons an array of lasers that makes the wall in front of them turn to ash.

Leo waits for the dust to clear before he steps through the opening. Immediately, the smell of sex and blood hits him. It's overwhelming, but still Leo manages to keep his wits about him and - there. He's found his missing brother. 

Raphael stares at them, his eyes completely white. His lips are tinged with red, his bloody teeth bared, and he's hunched protectively over something. A deep growl shakes the room and sends a shiver up Leo's spine. Savage, then. Whether from being alone or something else, Leo doesn't know. Yet. Donnie kept a copy of the records before destroying them, he's sure. For now, he needs to focus on helping Raph. 

Leo raises his hands in a placating gesture, but the growling doesn't stop. Leo feels the movement of Donnie and Mikey behind him, fanning out on either side. Giving plenty of space so that Raph doesn't feel trapped, so that-

“Oh my god,” Mikey whispers somewhere to Leo's right. “Oh my god, Leo, it's-”

Raph shifts, and Leo spots you in the same moment that Mikey says your name. Horror rushes through him at the sight of you, and all at once Leo realizes what's happened. 

He let Bishop off too easy. 

“Mikey, get him away from her,” Leo barks, mind racing. “I'll portal him home once they're separated, then I'll portal you after him. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself, and try to bring him back. Donnie, distract Raph first, then I need you to focus on her.” 

With grunts of affirmation, they move together. Raph's wild eyes jump between them as they circle around him. His growl gets impossibly louder, making the very floor beneath their feet vibrate. Leo waits until they're in position. Takes a breath. 

“Now!”

Donnie feints forward, pulling Raph's attention and making him lunge. Glowing chains shoot out and wrap around his limbs, his plastron, his neck, catching him and holding him back, just inches away from Donnie. The resulting roar makes Leo's bones rattle, and for a moment he's afraid the mystic chains might snap from the force of his older brother straining against them. They hold, though, as they always do, and Mikey grunts as he pulls Raph far enough away that Donnie can safely make it to your side. 

When Raph sees Donnie run toward you, red sparks start to jump along his body. He's not quite there enough to direct his ninpo, Leo notes, but it's enough to make things harder for Mikey. More chains wrap around Raph, Mikey grunting from the effort of containing him, as Leo slices open a portal beneath Raph's feet. As soon as Raph is through, Leo slams it closed and opens another for Mikey, who hops through with a determined nod and grim expression.

Okay. Now to focus on you. Leo runs to your side, sliding to his knees so he can start helping Donnie, but the sight of you up close makes him hesitate. You're naked, bound with ropes, and a ball gag is sitting off to the side. Leo can see the deep bruises it left around your mouth and across your face. 

How could they do this to you?

Leo tries to focus, to slip into medic mode, but then he sees the blood and semen pooling between your legs, and oh my god, that's what he saw Raph doing on the monitor-

Focus. Focus. 

You're unconscious. Covered in bites and scratches and bruises. Nothing deep enough for you to bleed out, though there's one on your shoulder that will probably need stitches. 

Oh God. The horror swells again when Donnie gingerly pulls a metal collar away from your neck. The sight and smell of your burnt flesh is enough to make Donnie turn away and retch. Leo can't look away. He can't. 

When Donnie turns back, there's a moment where both brothers are frozen. Leo glances up, finally tearing his eyes away from you, to share a look with Donnie. Leo wonders if he looks as haunted as his brother.

Focus. 

Leo unsheaths one of his swords and starts to cut through the ropes that bind your legs, then asks Donnie to lift your torso so that he can cut through those, as well. Lines of black bruises and tacky blood trails criss-cross over your skin, and Leo can't help but think about how you've been missing for six days. How long did they have you tied up like this? Raph had only just gone missing yesterday, but… 

How long had he been-

“I'll have to get more bandages,” Leo says, voice shaky. “We don't have enough for all this in the medbay. I'll portal you two home then meet you there once I've-”

“Leo,” Donnie murmurs. His tone makes Leo's chest tighten, makes his blood turn to ice. “We can't take her to the lair. She needs a hospital. The scans that I- She- she's gonna need surgery.”

Bishops's words echo in Leo's mind. Necessary sacrifices. 

“Yeah,” Leo chokes, blinking rapidly and wishing he had something to cover you with. You hate showing too much skin. You… He takes a shuddering breath and cuts a small portal into the air. Reaches through, pulls a blanket through before closing it. “Yeah. Okay. I'll- I'll take her to a hospital.”

Donnie helps him wrap you in the blanket - careful, Nardo, one of her hips is dislocated - before Leo sends him home through a portal, as well. Cradling you close against his plastron, Leo pushes down the whirlwind of emotions and presses his forehead to yours. After he takes you to the hospital and makes sure you're taken care of, he'll come back to this wretched place. 

At least Mikey won't have to watch this time when he kills every single person in this fucking building. 

---

Hours later, Leo finally portals back to the lair. Washes the last of the blood from his hands, his body, his swords. Gives Donnie an update - none left alive; you're still in surgery - before he receives one of his own.

In the garage, Donnie says, avoiding Leo's gaze. They're in the garage. 

Leo sees them before they see him. Raph sits in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the remnants of the destroyed room. Mikey kneels beside him, speaking softly, gently washing Raph's still-bloodied hands with a damp towel, and Leo doesn't want to do this. God, he doesn't want to-

“Leo?” 

Raph's voice is so small that Leo almost misses it. Mikey's quiet words and careful hands stop, and the silence rings louder than the static in Leo's tympanum. Both brothers watch Leo with solemn expressions as he slowly approaches, and Leo knows he should say something but…

Say something. Say something. 

“Leo,” Raph whispers, his face pale and eyes glassy with fear. “What did I do?”

---

tag list: @yorshie @khayalli @thejudiciousneurotic @luckycharms1701 @mxalmighty @thelaundrybitch @justalotoffanfiction

#turtlecleric scrolls #rise!raph #non con

[brainrotallthewaydown1312]

I just watched everything everywhere all at once and it is so good. there is one line that I feel like seems to be underrated though.

"i saw my life... without you. I wish you could have seen it. it was beautiful."

when I heard this line, it was the only time I was greatful that I hadn't seen it in theaters and I could pause. because that line punched me in the gut. and I don't think it hit me how it was supposed to, but I like how it did.

what she meant by saying that in that moment was "i saw my life without you, and i want to show you how much better that was than what we have so that we could both understand where we made a mistake" and i knew hearing it said to him then that that was what she meant.

but when the words hit my brain, I heard them again. "I saw my life without you. I wish you could have seen it. it was beautiful."

and I didn't hear the angry spiteful line she said. I felt it for different people in my life.

I felt that question of what if you weren't there? what if we had parted ways? what if that was worse? what if it was better?

and I realized that for most of the people worth asking that of, for all of the people who I love in any way, no matter what that outcome was, my first thought would also be "I wish you could have seen it"

and that is to me the purest depiction of love. seeing something incredible in the world, or in yourself and your instinctive response to be "i want to share this moment with you regardless of what that means because it is beautiful"

and the fact that that is so far from what was meant by her saying in that moment, but an exact summary of where she ended up as a character and the whole message of the movie is fascinating.

and I think that it's a line that deserves more attention. because in a movie full of existentialism and philosophy and pain, this is the line that will weed it's way into my dreams and make me process things differently. this is the line that makes this move a life changing masterpiece for me. this is the line I had to pause for.

and I know I can't be the only one

#everything everywhere all at once

[gojonatr]

home ☆

synopsis: geto disappears, but randomly appears at gojo's door a few months later.

tags: graphic description, implied character death, angst w no comfort.

word count: 1k

note: this was originally something i wrote up w original characters but i thought it fit stsg so well i tweaked it a lil' bit :)

divider credit @/cafekitsune

something in satoru’s gut told him to call suguru. to make sure that he was okay.

the elder of the pair went out of town for the weekend, something urgent with his family, but he promised to text satoru when he got there. his thumbs were heavy as they hovered over the call button, glossy eyes rereading their text messages, satoru wishing suguru safe travels and exchanging their i love you’s.

with a deep sigh, he pressed down on the small telephone symbol, placing the phone up to hear his only to be met with suguru’s voicemail.

“hello! this is suguru, i'm not able to answer, but send me a text or call back later, and i'll get to you." something wasn’t right, he knew that suguru would be available right now, he’d probably be bored out of his mind. this made him really uneasy, his heart dropping to his stomach and his breath short, but he couldn’t help but to try calling again.

“hello! this is su-”

and again.

“hello!-”

and again.

“hel-”

until it seemed pointless. it was clear that suguru wasn’t going to answer any of his calls, no matter how frantic they seemed. it was going straight to voicemail for a reason. maybe his phone was off. maybe he had do not disturb on. maybe it died. maybe he died.

the days passed slowly as satoru waited for any sign of life from him. no calls, no texts, no social media posts. sometimes he’d pretend that this was all a bad dream and text suguru about his day, asking about his as well.

at some point it started turning into seeing suguru in public.

at first, he knew that there was no way in hell that it could have been him inspite the twinge of hope that he was holding onto. there was nothing to solidify that thought. the second suguru’s long and dark hair came into view, it was gone within a second. it was like a magic trick.

it was a cruel trick that satoru’s brain was playing on him and if he didn’t know any better, he would run after these apparitions of suguru.

a part of him didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that his best friend was gone. a big part of him, really. he wanted to cave into his thoughts and live in the world where suguru was still around. things would be easier, he wouldn’t have to pretend that he was okay.

there’s never been anything in his entire life that has made his heart ache this much. no death, no inconvenience. nothing. suguru was his world and it was hell managing without him. wrapping his mind around living in a world where his best friend didn’t exist seemed impossible.

about a week after his initial disappearance, suguru showed up at satoru’s door. the knock took him out of his sleep, tired eyes scanning the room for his glasses before getting up and going to the door. the peephole didn’t even cross his mind, immediately going to unlock the wooden door and pulling it open. once his eyes landed on suguru, it was like his world mended back together.

was it really suguru? it couldn’t be. why would he come to his door in such a state? he was drenched, clothes tattered and worn. his face drained of all life and color. he looked sickly. beneath some of the rips on his clothes, there were deep gashes and blood dripping; some of these wounds looked fresh.

satoru had to take a second to ground himself before he grabbed the other and gently urged him into his apartment. there were so many questions that he could ask him at this moment, but he knew better than to do so. suguru was waiting in a wooden chair for satoru, shivering from the cold.

“suguru… i’ve been looking everywhere for you. i mean- i was calling and texting everyday hoping that you’d just broken your phone but this is just.. this is so much wor-”

“satoru,” the other male spoke. his voice was cold, blunt. it sent goosebumps up satoru’s skin and a shiver down his spine. this was very uncharacteristic of the gentle man. suguru didn’t even bother looking at the other, his eyes glued to his knees, “shut up. just shut up.”

scared to say anything more, he simply nodded and walked away to get the other a blanket.

maybe it was the circumstances of his disappearance, but suguru never left satoru’s dorm and he never returned to his old activities. his days were just spent holed up in their now shared room, reading and drawing when inspiration struck. of course, satoru didn’t mind this at all. his best friend was back home, back in his arms.

the pair were cuddled up on the couch watching the news, something that they’d been doing fairly recently as suguru had taken a liking to the reports. nothing ever interesting was on, satoru didn't understand why suguru liked it so much. except a few days ago, they reported a body that’d been found washed up on the shore of okinawa.

the screen changed from a puppy learning to walk for the first time to an orange banner that read, “URGENT REPORT”. this peaked both satoru and suguru’s reaction, the latter of the two looking over worriedly at the former. suguru, however, his face was drained of all color. it’s almost as if he looked guilty, his eyes wide and fingers white gripping the blanket as he awaited for the news reporter to start speaking.

a swoosh from the tv interrupted satoru’s observation, his heart pounding in his ears with anticipation. if suguru wasn’t next to him, then he’d have already started wondering if he was the victim.

“the body that was found by the northern bshore of okinawa has been identified. the victim was found on december 24, 2023, in a barely recognizable state. we’ve been informed that the victim was suguru geto, who was age 28 and kyoto resident. if you have any information that could be of help, please call the kyoto police department or okinawa police department. may god rest his soul.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk angst #anime #satosugu #stsg angst #stsg #satosugu angst #geto angst #gojo angst #angst #angst no comfort #anime angst #jujutsu kaisen angst

[it-me-sannore]

I went to see A Little Life at the cinemas with absolutely zero context and I ended up liking it. I like plays and musicals in general so it wasn't totally unbelievable that I ended up there.

But I'm also not an objective critic with refined taste. As such, here's a collection of my biased and random thoughts about the play (with spoilers):

My favourite part of everything was Luke! Not a surprise. I went to see it specifically for him :P

Did not hate on Luke's American accent as much as I feared, phew!

Though there was one scene where I didn't like Luke's accent - it's the scene in the teaser trailer, that made me all "OMG I didn't realise". But it was limited to that so false alarm, everyone. We good.

I really appreciated how tight the cast was - I believed them in their roles and enjoyed how they portrayed their characters

James Norton - Jude. Man, he was on the stage the whole time. Kudos. I kept thinking, does he get a break?? He carried the lead role well. Also, sings well in German haha

Omari Douglas - As JB, what an irritating hipster bro! I liked the vibe he added to the group of friends.

Zach Wyatt - I was gutted when Malcolm died. So shocked.

I had to pause and reconcile in my brain when Luke (Willem) was raving to modern music and I realised it's cos I wasn't used to seeing him doing anything from the 21st century

Elliot Cowan - all the "bad guys", amazing performance. How he made each character feel distinctly different??? I was so impressed by him.

I was expecting to cry a lot and was pleased when I didn't tear up until the end. I was prepared with tissues. It turns out the torture-porn leans more towards trauma and emotional abuse versus heartbreaking sadness so those aren't tear jerking triggers for me.

I liked how people wandered and stayed on the stage when it wasn't their scene

I kept thinking about how the tap and sink must have some kind of reserve of water beneath it since it's probably not hooked up to pipes.

I also kept (judgmentally) thinking that surely Harold actor (Zubin Varla) does not clean as much at home as he must have to do at work right now, with all this blood on the stage.

I didn't understand Andy's role in Jude's life. I think I missed the set up. Or just didn't connect the dots. Was he... a doctor friend? Actual doctor? Guess I'll have to look it up.

I liked how Ana balanced what was happening on the stage, even though she was now only in his head.

I enjoyed seeing Luke take his shirt off, even though I'm slightly prudish. I totally internally grinned.

Jude and Willem's relationship was... good, bad, conflicting, seeing them "happy" and then not so typically happy. Was Jude really "happy" or was it a trauma response? It really was a rollercoaster ride and my emotions were everywhere.

I enjoyed the intermission in the cinema - how the screen ticked down. I stood up and cracked my back loud enough that the stranger next to me was like, "that sounded like a good one".

All the cool effects - like the blood patches, the screen that came down and took Jude into the sky, the use of light to transition when it was opaque or spotlight when he was being chased by the car, the 360 degree stage.

Yay Luke lol. - Which is jarring due to the subject matter but I really did enjoy seeing a new Luke performance.

#a little life #luke thompson #james norton #random thoughts