#if something isn’t bringing you enjoyment stop doing it

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

If you’re so disillusioned with who Taylor is as a person and believes she’s changed for the worse, why are you still here as a fan? If you believe her “activism” isn’t up to your standards, are tired of her not using her platform, see her as an uncaring and callous billionaire, why are you still here and engaging in fan spaces if you’re no longer enjoying her and her work? Just disengaging completely if that’s the case; find something or someone else to pour your time and energy into.

#taylor swift #I’m sorry but Taylor isn’t an activist or politician follow the people who actually do that stuff if you’re looking for it #Taylor is a singer-songwriter she did not get into music to get into politics stop expecting that from her #like it’s not that hard to disengage if you truly believe she’s a bad person and isn’t the same person she was 5-10 years ago #don’t put expectations on people and place them on a pedestal because they’re never going to meet exactly what you want #it’s funny because people outside of the fandom view her ‘activism’ calls to voting as huge and doing enough #we’re the only ones harping on her to do more #if something isn’t bringing you enjoyment stop doing it #my friend and I were talking about Stan culture and stuff and agreed that people want celebs to speak out on issues is so they can feel… #morally good in supporting them and know that their values align and that they’re not problematic or whatever and that’s not a great… #mentality to have. like if people are only speaking out for the sake of optics it’s not genuine and doesn’t contribute to anything really #I’d rather celebs speak out about issues they have experience with and not regurgitating things to look good that they have no knowledge of

[explicit-tae]

Babe I just giggle maniacally for a straight up fluff of ungodly hour. Where mc just softly complaining in whispers to jk her back hurts for her work and ehem from him too. Jk just cooed and rubs her back her cheeks her arms her thighs cuz boy when simp for the ninth time and its all just fluff UGHHHH

you know every time someone has a thought about ungodly hour i have to write it 😭💜

Ungodly Hour

word count: 1.173

“So I was thinking about wearing this tomorrow for dinner with your parents.” Jungkook turns around, holding up something you didn’t care to see. “I need to come off as someone who - are you okay?”

Jungkook knits his brows at your unmoving position on the bed - the same position he’s left you in 10 minutes prior - naked and all.

You mumble something inaudible to Jungkook and he sighs. He places the shirt neatly back into the closet and comes closer to the bed. “This is why I said we need a safe word.”

You suck your teeth at Jungkook’s words.

“Don’t be like that, Y/N. I fucked you so good that-”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You hiss, straining your neck to look at him.

Jungkook wants to laugh because, of course, you’d speak up to argue with him.

“It’s not like we do anything that requires a safe word. You act as if you have me hanging from the ceiling.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “The way you’re laying there after a good fuck, you mind-”

Jungkook manages to dodge a kick, but it isn’t like you put enough force into it. Jungkook decides to stop teasing you.

“My body just hurts.” you murmur, a slight pout on your lips. “Not because of you or your mediocre dick, either. I just had a long day at work.”

Jungkook scoffs with a roll of his eye. “It must be so hard standing in the same place.”

Your eyes harden at Jungkook and in retaliation, you decide to turn over, back facing him. “I actually had to stock stuff today.” you say. You were sick of Jungkook and his constant teasing that your job “wasn’t stressful” because all you did was “stand there and look pretty”.

Jungkook gasps dramatically. “They had you stock the shelves?” he hides his laughter, especially when you attempt to send another kick his way that he dodges easily. “My poor Y/N, having to work even though I pay for everything.”

Jungkook dips onto his bed beside you, his hands rubbing circles onto your back. “Maybe you should quit if it’s starting to strain your body.”

You lay on your arms, turning your head to look at Jungkook with an unamused look. “I can’t just quit my job.”

Jungkook blinks, deepening the pressure onto your back. “Why not?” he asks. “What if they have you stock more shelves?” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek because the thought of stocking shelves straining your body this much makes him want to laugh at how dramatically (cute) you were.

“Nice to know that my pain is bringing you such enjoyment.” you bite back, closing your eyes. 

“Of course not.” Jungkook focuses his hands on your neck, rubbing circles around them before he reaches your shoulders. “You don’t want to quit. This is your own fault.”

“I have bills to pay.” you murmur gently. 

“I pay your bills.” Jungkook retorts. And it wasn’t a lie - but it isn’t like you asked him to. Jungkook insisted like he always did, stating that if you and he were going to be dating then that meant he was going to have to “step up” more. “I get you everything you need. Your paychecks are just pocket change.”

“Ugh, rude.” you turn your head the other way, sighing as Jungkook's hands dip onto your back. “Maybe I don’t want to leech off of you.”

Jungkook remains quiet - you were far too stubborn. His words do nothing but go into one ear and out the other - no matter how many times Jungkook has to explain that he enjoys doing what he does for you, you’d never see it that way.

“So you aren’t quitting?” Jungkook asks after another 5 minutes. He’s sure you were dozing off, your breathing was becoming slowed and body limp. 

You made a sound that told him “no”.

“I see. I can get you a membership so you can get massages-”

“Shut up, simp.” you murmur, eyelids already heavy, but nonetheless, you move closer to Jungkook. At this, he allows you to come closer, lying down besides you to bring you closer to him. 

Jungkook’s warmth is inviting and you immediately sink deeper into his embrace. You hum softly when you feel Jungkook’s fingers lightly trace your back, as if drawing shapes or writing letters. It tickles lightly and causes you to squirm when they inch up your spine until they’re at the nape of your neck. “You’re so cute.” Jungkook murmurs, lips against your forehead as his fingers gently rub along your neck. “Wanna shower?”

You huff - because yes, you did. But you also didn’t feel like getting up off of the bed and out of Jungkook’s warm embrace (not like you’d ever tell him that).

“I can run you a bath instead.” Jungkook offers, kissing your forehead softly. He understands that he could be a bit rough when in the act of intimacy and as much as you enjoyed it, it did weigh down on your body. “I wish you’d just tell me to slow down sometimes.”

“My mother didn’t raise a bitch.” was your response - a typical you response that has Jungkook snorting. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead again, “I’ll start the bath for you.” he says, untangling himself from you and lowly, you groan at the lack of warmth but didn’t protest. You didn’t want Jungkook actually thinking you wanted his presence - because of course it wasn’t that.

As time passed on with you staying in Jungkook’s home frequently, he made sure you had essentials. He cleared up some room for you - assuring you had a couple drawers in his bathroom for your own feminine products and beauty products. As he starts the bath, he’s sure to add the warm smell of vanilla you enjoy so that you could relax. 

“Come.” Jungkook tugs at your leg gently to get you to move from your position on the bed. “Your bath is ready.”

“Ugh.” you groan and lift yourself from Jungkook’s bed. Jungkook has a small smile on his lips  as he watches you go from his bedroom to the bathroom and dip into the bath. 

“Feels good?” Jungkook asks, leaning against the counter and watch you sink into the bath and only your head is present. 

“It’s okay.” you murmur, closing your eyes and Jungkook knows that it’s your way of saying that you loved the gesture - but you were undoubtedly you and giving him credit would be the last thing you’d ever do. 

However, Jungkook would never take you seriously so he just snickers. “I’ll order us some food.”

One eye peaks open at Jungkook who is waiting for a response.

“You want me to get something sweet, too, I assume?” Jungkook already knows by the look in your eyes and when you nod, he laughs. “Anything for you.”

“Simp.” you murmur, sinking into the bath to avoid Jungkook seeing your expression.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and the way he makes your heart beat at his genuine gestures of kindness.

DRABBLE 3 | Part 7

#ungodly hour #explicit-tae #jungkook x reader #bts college au #jungkook fluff #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #btswritersclub #bangtanwritershq #bangtanwriters net #bts drabble #ungodly hour drabbles

[drabblesandimagines]

Pinned

Leon Kennedy x reader, established relationship, fluffy

“Leon,” you huff. It feels all the air had been knocked out of you from when he tackled you down to the mat for the umpteenth time. He has your hips trapped flush to the ground with his thighs, your arms spread out above your head as he pins each wrist in place.

“What?” He grins, not having the good grace to even pretend to be out of breath.

“You’re meant to be teaching me how to get out of this.” You try and buck your hips to get some sort of leverage, but he squeezes his thighs together to stop you – the man never misses leg day.

“Yes, but to teach you how to get out, you need to know how it feels to be trapped first, right?”

He’s inches away from your face and all he can think about is how easy it would be to kiss you right now. Your face is flushed, chest heaving up and down as you try and catch your breath. He’d be a liar if he didn’t admit to enjoying having you in this position. Something about you squirming under him – his poor, helpless sweetheart.

“I think you’ve demonstrated the pinning part of the exercise well enough.” None of the self-defense tricks you’d learnt years ago seem to be dislodging him – your opponent far stronger than the average attacker, perhaps.

“Edwards wouldn’t have given you the full experience.”

You stop trying to push him off and look up at him, a knowing smile on your lips. You’d mentioned over dinner the night before you were going to be late home this evening - that Edwards, the man who sits opposite your desk in the office, had offered to go over some techniques with you after you admitted you were feeling a little rusty. Leon had looked offended at the idea, insisting the two of you would hit the gym instead after the day was done. “You’re jealous.”

“And whatever would I be jealous of, sweetpea?” He looks annoyingly smug.

“I don’t know – possibly the idea of another man straddling me.”

“Nah, I know it’s only me that could get you this flustered.”

“Frustrated, you mean.” You renew your efforts of escaping his grasp, trying to buck your hips again to get to throw him off balance but he proves once again unmovable. “Ugh!”

“Oh, you’re not flustered. Hm.” Leon replies in a teasing tone. “Well, let’s see how I can remedy that…”

You’re about to ask what he means when he starts his assault of pressing his lips along your jaw line in quick succession, once again stealing your breath. You swear you can feel the arrogance in his kisses, but that self-confidence had been part of what had attracted to you to him all those months ago, before he revealed a sweeter, softer side behind closed doors – something he claimed that you brought out in him, reminding him of a time when he wasn’t a government weapon.

You catch your breath, flexing your fingers in a test to see if his iron grip had loosened any, though the tense muscle of his bicep suggests otherwise. He stops, chuckling into your cheek. “Baby, you know I’m good at multitasking.”  

And then he moves down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin in alternate kisses, apparently on a mission to cover every single inch.

“Though enjoyable,” your voice is tight as his lips find your throat, “I don’t understand how this is helping me learn.”

“Oh, no, this isn’t part of the lesson." He mumbles. "I was just getting bored.”

You bristle, you want to let out of a grunt of annoyance, but all that comes out of your mouth is more of a whimper and that won’t do at all. Leon S Kennedy is not going to win this, you’ll never live it down otherwise. With renewed vigor, you jerk down your elbows towards your shoulders and follow the momentum to try and buck your hips once more, forcing him to break his grip on your wrists. You enter into a roll then, raising up your knee, pressing it into his chest to keep him at a distance and then yanking his arm forward with enough pull to bring him along with you, your other hand pressing into his shoulder until he is now straddled between your legs. You grab his other wrist and smile in triumph.

“You were getting bored?”

“Knew you just needed a bit of motivation.” He grins up at you, not even fighting the grip you have him in. You knew that he could easily break free if he so desired – there’s only ever going to be one of you who will win in an arm wrestle, after all – but he’s gracious in letting you have your moment. “I’m an excellent teacher, sweetheart.”

“An excellent tease.” You correct, keeping your gaze focused on his face. It would be far too easy for your eyes to drift down to the compression shirt he was wearing to train in.

“Sure you’re not getting bored now?” He lifts up his neck in an invitation, biting his lip as he looks at you.

You sigh, catching sight of the clock on the gym wall. “Nice try, Kennedy. Come on,” you let go of his wrists and climb off of him. “But there’s a class starting in under ten minutes and I don’t really fancy sharing your moans with them.”

He jumps up to his feet – unnecessarily so – before he presses a kiss to your temple, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close as he does so.

“Now who’s jealous?”

-- Self-indulgent nonsense cos I'm feeling poorly - bleh. Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader

[yuikomorii]

Happy 12th anniversary! 🎉

// I can’t believe so many years have passed since Ayato’s first CD drama, which marked the beginning of Diabolik Lovers and the introduction of my girl, Yui. Even if it got its flaws, I will continue to support this franchise! 💘

I have prepared an edit and a scenario for this special day! It's meant to be a "funny" one, so there will definitely be some cringe moments, but overall it's quite lighthearted. I sincerely hope you find it enjoyable! Besides, I had a blast writing Laito; he always channels my inner mischievousness.

Yui: Hmm… I believe I have all ingredients now!

( Come to think of it, the Sakamaki brothers are vampires but they surprisingly allowed me to celebrate Christmas this year. )

( It’s honestly so ironic that it makes me wonder whether or not they actually did it for… me? )

( A-Ah no, that’s definitely not the case! I’m probably just getting selfish at this point, but I genuinely do appreciate it. For this reason, I’ll try my best to cook all of their favorite dishes so as to show my gratitude! )

( Christmas is such a magical time of the year. It brings back memories of my father and I organizing the annual Christmas Mass together. We used to decorate the church and bake sweets for children, who were so cute when receiving them! Those were activities that truly brought joy to my heart… I sort of miss those times. )

( My father… I wonder, is he preparing for Christmas too? No, he most likely isn’t… )

( I don’t even know where he is to begin with but I truly hope he’s alright… )

( Anyway, I shouldn’t ruin the mood with those thoughts. Now that I've got everything ready for the dishes, I just need to find the right spot to hide Ayato-kun’s pre— )

Ayato: Yo, Chichinashi!

Yui: G-Geez! Ayato-kun, I told you already not to sneak up behind my back!

Ayato: Haa… Fine, fine, I’m sorry.

Yui: It’s— Eh?

( Wait a little, did he just apologize? )

Ayato: Why are you making such a dumb face? You don’t believe my words, do you?

Yui: Y-You got it wrong! It’s just that I wasn’t expecting Ayato-kun to apologize for something so trivial, you see.

Ayato: Hmm, I guess you’re not wrong. But, since Christmas is coming soon, it’d be a pity for Santa Claus to write me on the naughty list after trying to avoid it the whole year.

Yui: Naughty list…?

( Is it just me, or does Ayato-kun really believe Santa Claus will give him a present? I mean… Santa is told to only deliver them to children, and I'm not sure a 17-year-old still qualifies as one. )

( But I can’t straight up tell him that! It will only ruin the magic otherwise… Besides, when that thought crosses my mind, it somehow makes him appear so pure. )

Ayato: Hah? What are you grinning at? I swear, I've made an effort to be a good boy this year!

Yui: That’s really… amazing, Ayato-kun! I’m sure Santa will remember that!

Ayato: Heh? So you really think he’ll bring me something?

Yui: Uhm… Definitely!

( His eyes started sparking, I really can’t say “no” to that…! However, that only means I'll have to get him another gift so that he can have one from "Santa" and another one from me. )

B-By the way, I think I forgot to buy gingerbread syrup. I suppose I should leave before ——

Ayato: No, no, I’ll go!

Yui: You will? Ah, but you don’t have to! I was the one who forgo—…!

( He’s covering my mouth! )

Ayato: Stop blabbering already! Ore-sama offered to buy it for you, so you could try being a bit more grateful!

Yui: That’s… you’re right.

( Maybe it’s for the better. This way, I'll be able to find a hiding place for the present I already have for him. )

Ayato: I’ll be right back!

—Timeskip—

Ayato: Tsk, I can’t believe that shit was out of stock!

Chichinashi will surely be disappointed, if I come home with nothing! After all, she takes all that Christmas stuff seriously…

What's worse is that I tried really hard to find it, but it was already sold out by the time I arrived!

Tsk, damn it! Why must this be so complicated!?

Laito: Well, well. Seems like Ayato-kun is quite moody today.

Ayato: Get lost you pervert, it’s none of your business!

Laito: Haa… how rude of you, Ayato-kun. And there I was actually intending to give you this, but I guess you don’t need it anymore.

Bye bye~!

Ayato: Wait… What’s that thing in your hand?

Laito: What you ask? Nfu, it’s gingerbread syrup, of course. I was able to get the last one today.

Ayato: Wha—! Oi, you better give it to me or else—

Laito: Or else what~?

Ayato: I’ll—… Nevermind.

Look, you know I’m not into cheesy stuff but Chichinashi really loves Christmas, okay? Getting that gingerbread syrup might make her happy ‘cause maybe it’d remind her of how she celebrated it with her pops. That’s why��� I can’t believe I’m saying this but… give it to me, please!

Laito: Woah, it’s honesty hour, hm?

Well, whatever, I don’t really care about that gingerbread syrup anyway, so you can take it if you want to.

Ayato: Really? Gr—

Laito: You didn’t let me finish though. I will only give it to you, if you promise me something.

Ayato: Hah? What the hell is it this time!?

Laito: No need to get so worked up~. All you have to do is to ensure that Bitch-chan consumes at least one glass of syrup at the time you bring it to her.

Ayato: That’s it? Pfft, easiest task ever!

Wait… almost a bit too easy.

Oi you perv, you better not plan something behind Ore-sama’s back, understood?

Laito: Normally I would, but Christmas is just around the corner, right? Who would risk being added to the naughty list at the last minute, right?

— hands Ayato the gingerbread syrup—

Place: Living room

Ayato: Yui! Yui! I’m back and look what I found!!

Yui: Good job, Ayato-kun! Thank you so much for helping me!

Ayato: Now take a seat!

— forces her to sit down —

Yui: Eh? What’s happening?

Ayato: Nothing to worry about, just drink this!

— shoves glass of syrup down her throat —

Yui: Mmh…!!

(What on earth!? I can’t breathe—!)

— Yui swallows it —

Ayato: So~, how is it?

— Yui starts coughing —

Yui: It’s… it’s not as sweet as I remembered. This one is quite bitter.

Ayato: Bitter? Don’t spout nonsense, gingerbread can’t be bitter!

Yui: Yeah… thought so too… but..

(My head started spinning around…)

Ayato: Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?

Yui: Uuh… Sorry, Ayato-kun, I’m suddenly feeling so dizzy…

Ayato: How—?

( The heck’s wrong with her? Is it ‘cause she swallowed that too fast or…? )

Yui: Ayato-kun…

Ayato: What’s it?

Yui: Has anyone ever told you before that you are… extremely cute?

Ayato: Hah!? I mean, yeah, but what’s up with the random confession?

Yui: Eh? Am I not allowed to compliment the most adorable boy in the whole wide world…?

Ayato: Huh—?

Yui: You see, when I look at you like that… you might not be very clear, yet I can’t help but want to protect you…

Ayato: Protect me? D-Don’t say shit like that, it should be the other way around! After all, Ore-sama is the stron—!

(She pinned me down!?)

Yui: Fufu, you’re just so funny when you praise yourself like that…!

Everything about you is so beautiful… your hard yet nicely textured hair, your jade green eyes, your long eyelashes, your ——

Ayato: Tsk, get off me!

— pushes her away —

— Yui falls down —

Yui: Ngh…!

Ayato: …!

Oi! I… I didn’t mean to! Wait, gimme your hand!

— Yui takes his hand and looks up —

Ayato: (Don’t tell me… did that push bring her back to normal? Heh, if that’s so then—)

Yui: Mistletoe…

— puts her hands on his cheeks —

Yui: Holding your face like this makes me realize how soft your cheeks are… They are so round that I wish I could give you more and more Takoyaki until they become even chubbier…!

Ayato: S-Say what—!?

( It’s not like I dislike cheeky women but she’s nuts! )

— Yui gets closer to his lips —

Ayato: …!

*Smooch*

Laito: Fufu, hahaha, look at your face!

Ayato: Oi, Laito! Don’t just stand there staring, help me!

*Smooch*

Laito: Now why would I? After all, I already did you a favor by giving you the gingerbread liquor~!

Ayato: But you— Did you just say gingerbread LIQUOR!?

*Smooch*

Laito: Ex-act-ly! I was simply curious to see what kind of ‘drunk’ Bitch-chan is, and it seems like she’s the honest and horny type.

— takes picture —

Ayato: O-Oi! Don’t you dare to send it to anyone, delete it right now!

Laito: Oh my, look at the time! Now excuse me but I have to take my leave~.

Ayato: You can’t! Save me first!

Laito: Sorry Ayato-kun, no matter how delicious it feels watching you on top of each other while making out in plain sight, I've got better things to do, so... nfu, enjoy while it lasts!

— winks and disappears —

Ayato: You… You bastard! You will pay for this, I swear you wi— Mmh… Mm!

( Now how will I get myself out of THIS situation!? )

( Ugh, that’s what happens when you try helping others. I should have learnt my lesson a long time ago! )

— Yui stops kissing —

Yui: Will Ayato-kun… suck my blood?

Ayato: …!

( Heh, suddenly this doesn’t seem half bad anymore. I might actually grow to like being desired like that~. )

#diabolik lovers #yui komori #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #my edit #ayayui #ayato x yui #admin

[madameminor]

In More Ways Than One, Part 10 - Bad Batch x F!Reader - Crossed

Summary: You just want to restock the ship - but Crosshair has other plans.

Tags: (the series is) 18+ smutty mcsmutterson, porn with plot, basically, all the good stuff

Warnings: P in V sex, 'ownership' mentioned, rough sex (hand on throat, some throwing around), squirting, sensual sex, use of pet names. Top! then soft Crosshair.

Notes: I hope you all enjoy :). People have been asking after this chapter for awhile, which brings me SO MUCH HAPPY! Please share the happy by reblogging. (For real, if you love it enough to ask for more, my dears, please reblog. It brings me such joy - don't you want to bring me joy?? 😭)

Word Count:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5 Part 5.5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 9.5 Part 10

“That didn’t count!!!”

Crosshair smirks around his toothpick. “A pin is a pin, Wrecker,” he drawls, continuing down the corridor with you and the big guy in tow.

“But she was WIGGLING.” Wrecker pouts as he follows, wiping some of the sweat from his brow. You smile mischievously, a little extra flounce in your step as you walk.

“You heard him, babe, a pin is a pin. And I’ve been holding back that tactic for ages.”

Wrecker shoots you a look before looking forward again, moving to avoid two oncoming troopers. “Well that’s not fair.”

You laugh. “I’m really just doing you a favor. What if some sexy clanker has you pinned and starts doing the same thing? You'll be so unprepared!”

Wrecker’s eyes open in surprise. “Do they make those??”

“You never know, those Seppies are sly.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively. He goes back to pouting, realizing you're joking.

“Hm.”

You laugh, circling your arms behind his neck and kissing him on the nose. "Sorry, honey," you coo, not bothering to hide your enjoyment. "I won't do it again."

"Hm. You better not," he grumbles as you slide back down.

"Speak for yourself," Crosshair says quietly to himself. You wink at him, then stretch your arms over your head with a contented sigh.

“Oof that shower is going to feel good,” you breathe, rolling your neck. “I think I'll head to the ship, use the fresher there."

Crosshair's eyes dart to yours, irritated.

“What for?” Wrecker asks, equally let down.

"Because three of us need a shower- and I actually need to get clean.” You smile at Wrecker’s crestfallen face. “Besides, I need to take stock of our supplies - since now I know where ALL THAT GAUZE WENT.” Wrecker grins, recovered in light of their combined mischief. Crosshair just smirks. You playfully turn on your heal, starting to head down the corridor towards the ship with a wave. “Don't miss me too much, ok?”

"We'll try!" Wrecker calls after you. He starts back to their barracks - then stops, realizing that Crosshair isn’t following him. 

“You comin’?” 

Crosshair turns his body, eyes staring for a moment at your receding form before fully turning to follow his brother, a glint in his eye.

“I’m showering first.”

Wrecker looks over at him, confused. “Why, you got somewhere to be?”

“No.” Crosshair smirks, approaching the door to their quarters. “I have something to do.”

Wrecker's brow furrows as the barrack door opens before him. “What?”

Crosshair looks at him out of the corner of his eye as he enters, making his way towards the fresher.

“Let's call it some… unfinished business.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sigh contentedly as you step under the hot water for a last rinse. the final suds disappearing down the drain. Clean. Well and truly clean, even for just five minutes.

These moments are sacred. Peace, calm, relaxation. It can happen so rarely as a soldier - especially surrounded by a bunch of large, smelly boys. And battle. And sex.

...

...and then your brain pulls you to the chore waiting outside the fresher walls.

Dammit. Moment over.

Well, the sooner it's done, the sooner you can stop worrying about it. You turn off the water, dry and wrap yourself in a towel, then head to the medical supplies storage unit, already reviewing the list in your head.

You sift through your stores methodically. Hm.

You needed more adhesive spray (dammit, Tech was CONSTANTLY stealing yours!!!! That fucking...)

Good on grav press bandage cuffs…

Good on Medical bandage patch…

Need plenty more Bacta patches - need more glue stat…

Laser suture- where the heck was the laser suture? Did kriffing Tech take the fucking LASER SUTURE???? (You were going to KILL HIM! SADISTICALLY! FOR SCIENCE!!)

And gauze. Lots and lots of gauze. Fucking Hunter. These boys. What were you going to do with these boys getting into your damn med supplies?! Give them a hefty helping of Queenly whoop ass, that's for damn sure-

You hear the hatch start to open behind you, crankily curious to see who was coming aboard… maybe Tech had heard about what you were doing and was coming to give back the fucking laser suture, hoping you would spare his fucking life-

You see Crosshair's silver hair before you see the rest of him, dressed in his armor, but freshly washed. He closes the hatch, tossing his helmet onto a cockpit chair as he makes his way to you. 

You turn, fists on your hips and a scowl on your lips. “You had better be coming to give me some life or death information right n-"

He bends and lifts you by the back of your legs, slamming you against the bulkhead, your towel falling to the floor. Arousal spikes through your shock - god you love when he manhandles you. (He knows you like it, too- dammit, why did you ever tell him that?) His eyes glue you in place with their amusement, his slithering voice wrapping around you like a coil.

"Hello, princess."

You feel your breath catch at the sudden pulse in your pussy. Fuck, that smirk looks dangerous...

"You owe me.”

Wait, what?

“The hell I do! You remember I'm here to replace gauze, don't you?”

“No," he drawls. Damn that smug glint of satisfaction making you wet. Jerk. "You started something the last time we were on this ship.”  Oh, his voice is caressing your skin, possessive and inarguable. "its time you learn to finish what you start."

Crap, more coming back to haunt you. You sputter, trying to find the words to save you. “Cross, that was DAYS ago-”

“I have a long memory.”

“-and, it was only to tease you, which I already paid for-”

You hear the click of his codpiece before it falls to the floor. 

“W-wait, Cross-” you mean to protest, but the words come out as a breathy moan.

“A promise is a promise, Princess.” He purrs, freeing himself from his under armor, eyes hungry and dangerous. You lose yourself to shivers as you feel his cock hard against your back. “And I’m tired of waiting.”

His voice darkens, sending the shivers lower, tightening the possessive coil it holds over you. "And since this is the second time you've riled me up on this ship, I'm going to take you the way I want to. Do you understand, Princess?"

You whine a greedy ascent as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He leans in, purring in your ear. “Safeword?”

“Meiloorun,” you whine, giving in, desperate for him. “Green.”

“Good girl.”

You gasp a cry as he slams into you, sheathing himself in one lengthy stroke. His head falls back as he sighs a grunt, letting himself enjoy the tightness of your slick, unprepared walls.

“FUCK.” He swears before lifting his head, a smug glint in his eye. “That’s better.”

You feel his grip tighten on your ass cheeks as he leans in close to your ear. ‘Hold on tight, princess.’

You whimper, arms wrapping around his shoulders, surrendering, already on the verge of begging him to take you like this-

He pulls out and slams into you so hard you swear you feel the ship rock. 

You cry out with near-painful pleasure, hoping that somehow they don’t hear you outside of this ship - you can’t imagine the looks from the hanger clones if they hear Crosshair forcing his pleasure into you, ripping your begging cries for mercy yet for more from your lips while he grunts his pleasured staccato in your ear. 

“Too big, Crosshair, you’re too b-big for me right now!”

“You can take it Princess. I - FUCK - I know you can.” His breath quickens, nose buried behind your ear, short groans announcing his oncoming orgasm.

"KARKing hell, so tight, I'm already going to-"

Without warning, he groans a growl as he cums, pulling out to spill on the bulkhead behind you. You feel his thrusts, his cock sheathing between your ass cheeks to help him ride it out. You catch your breath as he pants into your neck, until he lifts his head with smug satisfaction. You look at him with your best pitiful eyes, hoping to lessen your sentence, praying that it doesn't.

“S-Satisfied?”

He smirks through his panting. “Hm. That was just to take the edge off.”

Shit.

He turns, still holding you up, before benching you onto his bunk and ripping off his armor. He pulls himself up behind you, crowding you against the bulkhead that serves as a headboard, pinning you there with a hot, hungry kiss. 

Dammit all to hell, all of this is making you so wet, and he must know it. 

With no finesse, no patience, he slides down your body, diving into your pussy like he hasn’t had a drink in weeks, laying waste to every curve and fold. He is RAVENOUS, like he would win the fucking war if he could just make you cum. Its completely overwhelming. You cry out in huffs, you can’t help it, brain barely catching up to the pleasure being sucked through you. “Crosshair, c-crosshair, holy fuck oh GOD.”

It almost hurts with his insistence, but his ferocity only makes you wetter, his ownership of everything you have to give like a fire in your cunt.

Two fingers slide inside of you, pulsing in and out of you at a rapid pace, rubbing against your G spot like he’s trying to beat a record, the lewd sound of your slick as he fucks you making you croon. His mouth sucks your clit hard enough to send your eyes back into your head, hands tangling in his hair. 

“Uh, uh, NNCrosshair! I’m- its too much- its going to make me-”

Its like you’ve lost all control - he’s going so fast that you can’t keep up, your body completely at his whim, so hot, so high; your mind can only lay scattered while your body reaches its peak.

“Ah, aH, Cross, Crosshair!” 

Your cum with an unabashed scream, letting go of any control of your pleasure - and you feel more wet than you’re used to squirt out onto the sheets, soaking your thighs with sticky wet warmth.

“OH shit oh god, Crosshair, I-I think you made me-”

“Kriffing right I did.” His eyes glint with that smug, hungry look again. He pulls your hips towards him, leaning over you to prop himself against the bulkhead, lining himself up with your entrance. “That pleasure belongs to me.”

He pushes into your sopping hole, making you cry out with overwhelm and need, still sensitive from your orgasm, but desperate for another one.

His hand clasps around your throat, tightening slightly as he starts to thrust. You whimper as you look up into his eyes, dazed, subdued, submissive, just for him. He’s panting, eyes boring down into yours. 

“That’s right, Princess, I’m taking what's mine. Your pleasure belongs to me.”

He grits his teeth as he sets a relentless pace, fucking you like it would save his life. You can only lay back, full with sensation, boneless, euphoric, feeling your breasts bouncing to the rhythm of his skin slapping against yours. 

Your voice comes out as a whimper. “Yes, Cross, yes, god you’re so big, please don’t stop, please let me squirt all over your cock.”

OH his GROWL as his hand tightens around your throat, not to choke you, just to make you blurry, remind you who’s mercy you’re at. 

“That’s right, my little cockwhore. You love me taking you like this, taking your pleasure all for my own, don’t you?”

You squeak from beneath his hand, his words sending you towards your climax, walls squeezing around him.

He pinches your clit, making you cry out and look back up at him.

His eyes are serious, daring you to disobey. “I didn’t tell you to cum yet. You’ll do it when I tell you. I’m in control here, not you.”

“Y-yes sir. I- AH!” He changes his angle, making you cry out as he thrusts deeper. His breath is more labored. Kriff he’s getting close, so close to giving you all his cum. You want to be so good for him… his good little cockwhore.

“Are you ready to take my cum, Princess?” He demands, already knowing your answer as he speeds up, his thumb finding your clit.

“Y-yes sir, all of it, please, dump all of it in me!” You whimper, your mind lost, spewing whatever comes to mind, whatever he wants to hear, so long as he keeps making you feel like this…

You both cum together with a cry, his a growl, yours a shriek. He grunts with each thrust as he empties himself into you, pushing inside you as far as he goes. He lets you ride out your wave on his cock, his hands flying to either side of your head to prop himself up as he pants in release. He eventually slows, looking down at you, satisfied, approving.

"That's my good girl. Taking my cock so well," he purrs, the thumb around your neck tracing your jaw line as he leans in to kiss you.

"Anything for you, Crosshair" you breathe, unthinking- and meaning it.

Everything seems to slow around you, the two of you breathing together while you come down from your play. He...something in his eyes changes while he pants down at you. Your words... he's taking in your words. You see... that openness from when he let himself cum down your throat, that... click.

You feel the energy change between you.

And slowly, so slowly, he leans in and kisses you.

Its totally different from how he was before. His kiss is slow, possessive, tender - the hand around your neck comes up to cradle your cheek. He lowers his body to yours, propped up by his elbow, bringing him skin to heated skin.

An ember glows in your belly, his kiss slowly feeding it as it glows hotter, and hotter. Your tongue flicks against his lips. He opens them to meet you, his tongue pushing in to dance with yours in his own. Fuck. You can taste his desire, his yearning, as it feeds your burning ember into a flame, flaring with yearning, hunger, need. Your hands find your way into his hair, eager to be close, to touch him more, more, to meld with him, join with him like only lovers can. And you NEED it.

You feel him firming up inside you again as he starts thrusting, as if he can’t help himself. You moan under him, growing desperate, frantic for more of him. You can't pull your lips away, getting swept up in the need to be close, to be closer than close, to have him inside of you as far as he'll go.

“Princess…” he breathes, barely pulling away, his thumb tracing your cheek bone while he moves in you. “Missed this pussy. Missed having you cum all over my face. Missed…” He pulls you into a kiss again, his lips saying what his words can’t.

Your fingers tighten in his hair to pull him closer, and he groans into your mouth.

His hips move, but he’s not aiming for the finish line anymore. He pulls away from your lips to look down at where he’s entering you with long strokes, taking his time, his breath ragged. You both watch where he thrusts into you, joins with you, makes sweet fucking love to you the way he wants to. You both moan at the sight. Then he looks up, his forehead back to yours.

“Crosshair…” Your voice is breathy, so full of this feeling he’s bringing to you, sensually taking you one stroke at a time.

His own voice is quiet, caressing you like the hand on your face. “Kriff. So good, Princess. You always feel so damn good. You taste so sweet, I'm so hungry for you all the damn time...”

He buries his face in your shoulder, breath touching sound as he pants his pleasure. His pelvis rubs along your clit, his body so close to yours, your arms clutching him, nails digging into his back while he continues thrusting you into the mattress with long, hard thrusts, pushing cry after cry from your lips. His breathy moans make you clench around him, trying to take him in farther, just a little bit farther.

You feel your crest approaching, slow, but steady - and overwhelming.

"Cross, I’m so close." You could cry with how good it feels.

"Fuck, mesh’la, yes." His own voice is breathy, lost in sensation, desperate with desire. "Need to feel you cum on my cock again. Cum around me, just for me."

"Cross, Cross, Cross," you pant, tears falling back into your hair.

"That’s right, cum with me, precious. Cum with me again. Don't stop, don't hold back. Let me watch you cum for me."

He’s up, forehead to yours, rocking and grinding you right where you need it to send you over. 

You breathe, moan together for a few more moments, connected, devoted, while you both soar up and over the edge.

He kisses you as you cum together, the two of you swallowing each others desperate moans as your lips meet again and again, bodies convulsing against each other as he releases into you, your walls squeezing him for every last drop he has to give.

You kiss until you’re both starving for breath, and only barely manage to pull away. You meet his eyes. They're open, assured, sincere, speaking volumes without saying anything, before his head falls to your neck, slowly kissing his way to your shoulder and resting his head on your collarbone, panting out his exertion. 

Then, amid his panting, quieter than a pin drop, so quiet you almost miss it, you hear him breathe out:

“Ah, cyar’ika. My cyar'ika."

!...

“...Hmm?” You turn, nuzzling into his hair, hoping beyond hope he'll repeat it.

“…nothing, Princess.” He leans up and kisses your forehead slowly, tenderly. He slowly pulls out with a combined groan from each of you. He lays beside you, pulling you close to him, his face nuzzling into the top of your head. You hold him tight, nuzzling in turn against his chest with a secret, sated smile.

You understand. You know what he said with his kisses, his body, but it's not ready to be said aloud, not ready to become a part of your relationship. And that's alright. You drift off to sleep, breathing in his scent as your body molds to his.

Its not time yet.

And you can wait.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake up slowly, unsure if its been hours or minutes, but still swimming in the bliss of your earlier experience. You slowly look up to find Crosshair still asleep, deep breathing guiding the unguarded moment.

He's beautiful.

Peace looks so good on him. You gently brush your fingers along his cheek, taking in this unguarded moment that so few get to see. But you do. Because he's yours. Your Crosshair, your sniper, who craves the touch and comfort you give him, even if he's too proud - or is it unsure? - to ask for it by name.

For now.

You smile to yourself, eyes tracing along his unknit brows. He's yours. And you vow then and there - you'll take good care of this trust he's given to no one else but you.

.....

Jeez, were you going to get more sappy than this?-

-The quiet of the ship is interrupted by your com's insistent beeping. Crosshair’s eyes open quickly, peace falling from his face as he’s instantly alert. You sigh to yourself, rolling over to jump off of the bunk - the outside world calls. You check the transmission before answering with a smile.

"Yes Tech darling?"

“Have you been locked inside the Marauder? Do you need rescuing?” His matter-of-fact-yet-irritated voice makes your smile wider.

“No, just… fulfilling a promise.” You chuckle, glancing up at Crosshair. He rolls his eyes and falls back onto the bunk.

“I see," Tech admonishes. You can practically see him adjusting his goggles. "Need I remind you that it is also time for your next inoculation? They are asking for you at the med bay.”

Ah, shoot. You had forgotten that, and you were the damn medic. You hit your forehead, hand sliding down your face with embarrassment. Ok yeah, that one is on you.

"Also," Tech continues, still a hint of lecture in his voice, "the Commander has been looking for you. He is hoping that you will join him for the next meal. I would quickly compose yourself and seek him out. You wouldn't want him believing the... rumors going around, would you?”

"Alright, alright, I understand." Your head falls back with a sigh. You glance over at your unfinished storage count, wondering if you should take the time to finish your checkli-

Wait just a damn minute.

He wanted to play 'you did this wrong'?

Alright. You'll play.

"Oh!" You start brightly, as if remembering something. "By the way, Technically Jangoson," you continue into the com, words dripping with honeyed venom. "I have a small teensy, tiny question just for you."

Silence.

A throat cleared at the other end. "...Yes, my queen?" The full name. Oh, he knows he's in trouble.

Good.

Your voice turns harsh, your tone angry, and your Queenly control is fully back in place.

"Where.

The FUCK.

Is my laser suture?!?!"

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

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#madame writes #in more ways than one #in more ways than one tbb #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #polybatch #poly batch #poly bad batch #tbb smut #clone force 99 smut

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

FLIGHT OF THE WARBLER (XIII)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XIV ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.0K

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, mentions of guns & weapons, gore mentions, talks about shootings, tension, suggestive actions, sickness, vomit, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

In the last week that you had him, Kyle Garrick had proved to be something that couldn’t be attributed to the memories you held of that day. This realization had been brewing for a long time—ever since he’d followed you in that car as you defiantly shoved your way over the landscape of this very base. It wasn’t something you’d call conventional; it wasn’t, and in the end, you couldn’t be. 

That isn’t to say you’d forget. 

Your father was a large part of your life, and even now, you have trouble separating your perception of him from what you’ve learned and accepted. You know they’re the same person—you know—but the mind plays tricks on the body, and sometimes when you wake up in the middle of the night, you like to go along with the trick that he’d be down in his office, working on all those inventory logs. You know he’s not.

The only thing that really helped the ache was the very man who’d been in the room that day. 

“You’re going to run me into a wall,” you comment dryly as the wheelchair rolls along the tiled floors. 

“I am not,” Kyle says, a smirk evident in his tone. “You just like complaining, Love.”

Your eyes turn in your head and you look over your shoulder as military personnel walk past, sending glances at the SAS Sergeant and the woman he pushes safely under him. You wear more comfortable clothes today—a borrowed T-shirt and cargo pants.

“Where are you taking me, anyways?” The pain in your wound had only increased on the second day of consciousness came along; all of that skin piecing itself together one cell at a time. The meds had helped somewhat, but the injury itself produced a pulse of heat and tightness. 

Brown eyes glance down, brow quirking. “Not fond of surprises, then?”

“Not when they’re from you,” you grumble under your breath sarcastically, turning back around. 

Kyle’s smooth laugh makes your face gain a sheen of warmth, and you try to push back against the onslaught of hands that suddenly ghost your skin. You shift in the wheelchair and silently frown. 

“I should be offended,” the man begins, taking a slow turn left, “but I’ve found I’m getting used to your jabs.” His comment goes in one ear and slides out the other, passing through the eye of your confused thoughts. “In fact, I find them enjoyable.” 

You huff, bringing yourself back to reality as your lips quirk. 

“Yeah, okay—” Your body bends forward with a ragged cough, hand snapping up to cover your mouth as your spine curves. 

Kyle stops the wheelchair, looking in surprise before his arm comes to sit on the back of your shoulder blade, one foot moving him closer. Concern immediately grows in his chest.

“Spitfire?” You wave your free hand, continuing on for a few more seconds before your aching lungs take a deep inhale. Clearing your throat, you blink a few times to push away the blurriness of your vision and move back. 

“I’m good,” your lips mutter. You clear your throat again. “Sorry.”

Kyle blinks. 

“No need to apologize.” He glances you over softly as his hand leaves you. “Feeling alright, then?” 

You nod after a moment, the man only hesitates a second before he grips the handles behind you and begins pushing again. A small silence falls between you two, and you brush a hand over your eyes as you feel those brown eyes staring into the back of your head. 

“...I ever tell you about my time with RTI testing?” The comment makes you pause, brows pulling in as you look over your shoulder again. 

“What’s that?” He smiles, nodding at you as he carts you around.

“Resistance To Interrogation.” Your interest gets jump-started, and you continue to watch him as Kyle’s eyes filter back and forth from the hallway to you. The surroundings swirl together as your focus is grabbed. 

“No, you haven’t.” Gaz hums, shrugging. 

“Want to?” 

“Well, you already started talking about it,” you slide him a sly look. 

He chuckles, tilting his head. “Got me there.” The Brit gathers his thoughts in front of you, eyebrows quirking for a moment. He moves his eyes back down to your own, and they lock for a minute—something flashes over his expression, but it’s lost before you can understand it.

“We were a group of ten,” he begins, “my class and I, yeah? All proper blokes.” The wheelchair squeaks slightly as it moves, but it barely annoys you. Kyle’s stories take precedence. “They had us separated—different rooms all over a test sight.”

“Let me guess,” you say, “it was horrible?”

“Bloody horrendous.” You both share amused looks. “You’d think they left that place abandoned for a decade, Spitfire,” Kyle speaks lower as if in secret. “Swear it was haunted.”

“As if,” you laugh, shaking your head and ignoring the muttered words from passing soldiers. 

“I’m not joking,” Gaz says, smiling easily. “No, they made it that way—simulate an actual scenario.” He smirks, teasing. “As I was saying,” you pass door after door, and you’re none the wiser as to where he’s taking you as the minutes grow longer. “Interrogation. So, they had me in a room; tiny one. All of a sudden as I’m working on the bindings, big fellow comes through the door…”

You know what he’s trying to do. 

Trying to make you laugh—smile. He wants you to forget about everything, even if for a little bit. There was no real destination he was taking you to; you’d passed this same door number two times now. He was just…talking to you. Because he wanted to.

You’d never felt as thankful to have someone to do that with than now. 

The story ends as you expected it would, a full success on the Sergeant's part and a final comment of, “You wanna know what I learned? No one can break me, but me.” More and more tales go past as you joke and tease, growing more comfortable as every one waxes and wanes. You even shared some of your own. 

“You wrecked it?” Kyle blinks in shock, laughing in disbelief. 

“I wrecked it,” you reiterate. “But it wasn’t my fault! The dude pulled out in front of me.” Talking about how you had been driving your friend's car near the middle of high school—having gotten into a minor car crash while you never even had your permit. 

“Bloody hell, what did you do?”

“Switched seats with my friend.” You’re excited. You find you don’t mind the feeling. Everything about videos and stolen goods is lost to the two of you—here, now, the only thing that was appeasing was the sound of one another’s voices. A sway and dip of syllables and accents. A push and pull that now felt more like a tug at a sleeve; gentle hands slipping over flesh. 

More than once your body had wished for the man to touch you. More than once you had to stop yourself from getting sidetracked by the smooth roll of his chuckle. 

More than once, Kyle had to do the same. 

“That worked?” The Sergeant breathes, eyes darting away from yours softly before slinking back like a horse to water. His face was hot, and he’d lost track of the time—even his feet were moving on autopilot.

“You’d be surprised,” you stifle a fond chuff on your lips. “You want to hear the one where I snuck onto a train heading into Michigan?”

He looks at you and you can’t help but feel your face heat as you gaze over your shoulder. 

“You’re trouble, you are.” The comment leaves you smiling widely. 

“Did you expect anything different? My father got a rise out of me,” you laugh. “All he’d do was laugh and ask how my day went while my mother fumed from the foyer.” 

“My mum would have a field day,” Kyle adds. “You make it that far?”

“No,” you shake your head a few times, speaking through crinkled lids. “No, I felt bad halfway through the ride and got off at the next station—found the train back and that was that.”  

The Sergeant’s amusement is obvious. You don’t even realize it’s the first time you’ve mentioned your family without feeling that wash of sadness afterward. 

A calm pause moves along the space, and soon after the man gives you a soft question.

“Leg still good?” Brown eyes look you up and down. “I can stop if you want.” 

Blinking, you’d almost forgotten the bullet wound in your thigh, glancing down at it. Small aches travel up your spine when the limb shakes with the pace of the chair. 

You think about lying. 

Talk to me.

But what could one truth hurt?

“Maybe for just a few minutes.” You don’t turn to see the slow smile that peels Kyle’s lips, but as if a sixth sense, you can feel it. 

“Want to go back to your room?”

“No,” you shake your head in thought. A line forms on your head as you shift to ask him. “Any nice places around here?”

You were starting to notice things you hadn’t before—or maybe you had seen them, and just hadn’t been paying attention. Kyle’s smile moved the scars on his cheek, pushing them tight, and when he looked at you, he gave you all of his attention. When he stopped and started walking, it was always with his right foot. At every noise, even if he wasn’t paying it any attention, his head would slightly tilt in that direction.

Everything has become a metaphor, and all you can do is experience it. 

“Not many,” the man admits, brows furrowing as he stares off. A moment later he looks back down with a dog-like angle to his head. “Library?” 

Your soft smile gives him all the answers he needs.

—

This strange comfort went on for the days remaining, yourself being none the wiser while the guilt on the soldier’s side persisted. How could he tell you? There wasn’t a thought in his mind that he wouldn’t tell you what was going on—that wasn’t who he was. He would never up and disappear without a goodbye, but even thinking about it rubbed him the wrong way. 

Who was to say you would take to the next person who gets put in charge of you? It had taken months for Kyle—whoever else would be flayed on a stake at the first appearance of your wrath. For everyone's sake, the Sergeant hopes it will at least be Alex. 

There might be some hope for him, at least.

But the overarching truth was that he didn’t want to leave you here. He didn’t want to go thousands of miles away and join the others…even if he knew he had to. 

His duty, or his soul. He can’t do one without hurting the other. And he knows he has no choice but to join back with One-Four-One. 

On the third day, you got sick. 

Your body lay heaped over the toilet, a trail of vomit and blood leading into the bathroom that a nurse is hurriedly cleaning with a mop and spraying down with disinfectant. The smell of it only makes you retch more.

“Breathe,” Gaz utters beside you, hand rubbing circles on your back. 

Your head spins; throat on fire. Everything you’d eaten today comes up until there’s only acid and regrets. 

“Ow,” you say through saliva, eyes stinging. Your spine shakes and you dry heave, choking on air. 

Kyle’s lips thin tightly to his face, glancing out of the bathroom door as a patient guard would. His fingers at your back give a little more pressure—the tips digging to give you something to focus on. 

The nurse leaves on fast feet. 

“How are we feeling, then?” You’re asked as your eyes clench tight, your abdomen tense and the muscles shaky like a series of rivers under the skin. “Take your time, Love.”

“Like shit, Garrick,” Your head turns with a weak glare, bags formed under your eyes from a restless sleep last night. No matter how hard you tried to get comfortable, pain had been stirring in your chest—different from the one in your thigh and the ache of the now-healed mark on your palm. It was like a dull droning; a precursor. 

Coughing, you groan and dip your head away, a hand coming up and slapping the handle to make the bile swirl and disappear down the pipes. Kyle sighs under his breath, watching. 

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” You resist the inner voice wanting to tell him to keep rubbing your back, only commenting on brushing your teeth beforehand, which you do with the ever-present shadow behind you in case you might fall over. 

Back in the sheets, Gaz grabs another blanket from the other side of the room and brings it over—spreading it over your body until a toasty feeling overtakes the headache that emanates from behind your eyes. 

“M’gonna lose my mind,” your words slur. “This is worse than getting shot.”

“It is not,” Kyle mutters, a small smile on his face. “You just got a stomach bug. Could be from the meds—wouldn’t be the first I've heard of it.” 

He packs the blanket firmer around you and huffs as he moves into his chair, leaning back. Not once do his eyes leave you as your body shifts and curls—moving to face him. 

“This where you read me a bedtime story?”

Kyle smirks, looking away. 

“A long time ago, in a—”

“Shut up.” He laughs and moves a hand out as you restrain a wide smile, one you had to fight hard to keep hidden as your mouth dips under the blanket. 

Kyle chuckles before shaking his head. “But, seriously, do you remember what you ate today?”

“Nothing besides what was handed to me,” you sigh, moving a hand to your head to feel your skin. “A few more shitty coffees.”

“Let me.” Gaz moves and gently pushes your own aside before his limb flattens over your forehead. Your eyelids momentarily move down at the action, but you allow it to continue. At the gentle way he slips his skin over yours, you nearly purr. 

“Hm,” the man leaves and your eyes follow. “Bit hot.” Kyle’s eyes study you. “Your wound isn’t infected, I know that. Just proper bad timing on your part, Spitfire.”

You rub at your eyes. The comment slips out before you can care to stop it.

“Do you think you can stay here tonight?” Brown orbs widen, and the whites, for a sliver of a second, become more visible. 

Your face blazes, embarrassment shifting the lines of your face—expression twisting back up at the lapse in speech that suffocates like a rope. 

“I don’t mean it like…” Your tongue bites at itself, throat clearing as your eyes dart away from blank brown bulbs. “Just, I know my mother comes to visit before I fall asleep, but I don’t want to risk…” 

Nerves make your jaw slam shut like a lock to a hatch. “Forget it—”

“I’ll stay.” 

Eyes lock. Kyle blinked as if he wasn’t conscious enough to know he answered until it was already said. The Sergeant’s hands go up to fix his cap, licking his lips and taping his foot to the floor. He reiterates after a shocked moment. 

“I’ll stay, Love.” After all, this was the only form he’d be able to. “It’s not a problem.”

Your heart constricts, fingers twitching for your coin that’s still back at the mansion. The words leave your tone breathless. “Okay.” 

So that’s how the Sergeant, who prided himself on his high tolerance and tactical awareness, found himself utterly void of all sense. He sat there, idly on his phone and sending glances as the minutes passed—growing longer. The single lamp is the only light to stay on, sitting on the far table with its warm glow. 

When you do fall asleep, mind and body tired, Kyle’s hand reaches over and pulls the blanket farther over you, sighing softly. It’s only after he leans back that he speaks, almost to himself.

“I’ll be here,” he whispers, guilt filling up his eyes like a glass of water. “But I can’t be forever.”

A creak at the door makes his spine straighten, head whipping over and hand unconsciously jerking to where a sidearm would be strapped to his thigh. 

But it’s only your mother. 

“It’s Kyle,” she whispers, glancing at your sleeping body with a glass of water in her hands, “right?” 

“Ah,” the man speaks low, sending a look your way before standing. “Yes, Ma’am. Kyle Garrick.”

“Sorry.” Coming into the room, the glass is set on the bedside table, liquid sloshing over the brim. “I’m horrible with names, that was always my husband’s specialty.” Kyle shares a polite smile as she puts a hand on his arm. “I always had to write them down to keep it all straight—I’m more organized than a filing cabinet.”

“Aren’t you a nurse, Ma’am?” He chuckles, one eye watching you breathe softly; that gentle rise and fall of your chest. 

You looked calm like this. 

Beautiful, even.

Kyle’s thoughts make him blink quickly, fighting to put his full attention on your mother as she speaks to him. 

“What do you think the patient sheets are for?” They share a good few chuffs at that, the Sergeant’s hands going to cross his chest. 

“You know, young man,” your mother utters, looking at you as something swirls behind her eyes. “You’ve really done a fantastic job with her. Truly. Her father…well…” she trails and Gaz’s chest has a concrete block on it.

He knew that the older woman didn’t know the full story, or else she wouldn’t be telling him this. 

“...he would be thankful, I know he would. He loved that girl more than anyone in the world.” A tiny sigh. “She just…fell apart when he passed, you understand.” A wave of a hand moves in the tight vision of those brown eyes. “We don’t speak about it.” 

Maybe you should have. A cut of resentment makes itself known. How much you’d suffered. How much the solitude had left you a shell of someone who was just coming out again—a clock needing a new battery. 

“Spitfire’s strong,” Kyle says, shifting his feet. His face is firm. “Far stronger than most.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” is the response. “Everything that’s been attempted, and here she is.” A little look is sent his way, paired with an inquisitive nod. “Do you care about her, or only the job?”

“Her,” the answer is immediate. “Bloody job isn’t even half of it, Ma’am, you have my word on that.” 

Those eyes watch him for a moment, digging in a way far sharper than Kyle could have anticipated. But woe to the man who gets in between a mother and her daughter. 

“Good.” Your mother moves, going to kiss you on the head and slip past Kyle. “Make sure she drinks her water when she wakes up,” the man watches as she exits the doorway. Her hand sits on the frame as the last bit of advice fades into the hallway before the door closes with a soft click. “She needs to keep hydrated.”

The guard resumes his midnight shift, but he was correct with his previous assessment. 

You did look beautiful, and perhaps he’d just now begun to see it. 

—

Alex wasn’t bad, truthfully. He had that same charm to him that Gaz possessed like a proud poster boy—the main model with the blond Agent soon after on the first page, blue eyes over the top of the text. He didn’t seem to take your prior muteness to him to heart, in fact, when you apologized for it out of your own free will, he’d only smiled and tilted his head in your direction softly. 

“No need to apologize, Ma’am. I’ve had worse welcomes, trust me. A cold shoulder is the least of my worries.” 

You found yourself actually liking the man, as strange as that sounded in the recesses of your skull. But there are worse things than talking to someone who actually answers back. 

“China?” He stares at you from the side of his eye, Kyle sighing from across the space of the rec room. You sit back on the couch, a forgotten book in hand. “You sure?” 

“Chiyou is a Chinese deity—a company coming out of there with the same name would make the most logical sense, don’t you think?” You shrug. “It’s also a country that’s in the middle of Laos and Russia besides Mongolia; hate to break it to you, but I don’t think Mongolia has a port to send goods from. Executions,” you tilt your head, “sure. Ships? No.” 

“Can we be sure that those are the same thing?” Kyle speaks up from this dark conversation. “Drugs and weapons are two linked businesses, but getting directly involved in hits isn’t usually how those types of things go.”

“I’d have to agree,” Alex sighs. Your mother was out helping in the medical ward due to her knowledge of medicine—there was no need for Keller to follow her around with so many reliable eyes on her. For the moment, he’d been relieved to do as he wished. “Not exactly how cells operate unless something happened to make ‘em change their main sources of income. But it isn’t unheard of. So the laptop was entirely those videos?” Blue eyes move back and forth, the Agent’s arms crossed as he reclines into his seat next to the card table. “Nothing else?”

“Didn’t have time to look.” Gaz grunts. “Someone took it out from right under our noses.” 

An eerie silence settles, and you try not to think too hard about it. 

“The best bet for answers is the guy I shot,” you speak after a moment. Two pairs of eyes with different hues share a fast look as you itch at the back of your neck. “He knew Samson, that has to count.” Your voice slips to a mutter. “He knows something we don’t.”

“You feeling any better today, Love?” Gaz changes the subject. You look up, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Not really, why?” You can’t stand up fast unless you want to black out, and this morning it hadn’t taken long for you to grow sick after trying to take down food your mother brought you. The nurses were at a loss with what to do, seeing as besides a fever, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. 

It was only after your own heated insistence that Kyle had helped you into the wheelchair that sits next to the couch currently, concerned that if you walked, you would fall unconscious. 

Brown eyes watch you now, face stiff. “Just wondering.” 

You blink at him, trying to speak through your eyes. The man shrugs, tilting his head away. 

Alex looks between the two of you, mustache twitching as he eases out casually in reference to your mother, “She’ll be getting off soon. I’ll leave you both here to think over the details.”

“Right,” Kyle utters, prying his eyes away from you. “Be seeing you, Alex.”

“Call me if you need me,” the Agent comments, patting your shoulder as he slips past, giving over a kind smile. “Get better soon, Doll.” 

You hum as he leaves, closing the door behind him. 

Lips start moving at the same time.

“I need to go back home—”

“I’m getting sent back to One-Four-One—”

Wide eyes meet and lock with quick breaths. 

“What?” Your face twists in, again your voice building over Kyle’s instant refusal of your proposal.

“Not a chance.” 

“Whoah, whoah, back the hell up.” You raise your hands, splaying them out—the man shakes his head, a hand coming to itch at his facial scar. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m not letting you go back to the mansion.”

“Kyle!” You bark so loudly that your eyes gain dancing black dots. “What the fuck?” 

“It wasn’t my plan,” he breathes, avoiding your gaze. “I wasn’t thinking clearly when I sent in the reassignment form—Laswell had me placed back with them faster than I could remember to take it back.”

Your face is devoid of blood, your jaw loose, and your gut sinking inside your abdomen like a fishing line had it connected to your ankle. More than once your mouth opened and closed in shock—in betrayal. 

Leaving? He was leaving you here?

“I don’t…” Your words trail off, throat closing. A pain sparks in your heart.

Kyle’s face screws up, jaw clenching as he stands up, walking over. “Believe me, Spitfire, when I say I had every intention of taking it back before this blew up.”

Hands capture the sides of your arms, grabbing at them as he kneels down to the floor in front of where you sit.

“I’m sorry,” Kyle says slowly and sincerely—staring deeply into your eyes as you struggle to keep the contact. “I’ve been beating myself up over it for days now. I…” he pauses. “I was waiting for a good time to tell you, but it just came out. Please, understand.” 

Your eyes slip away, lips thin and skin pulled. 

Kyle’s muscles are wound, nervous about what this could do and how you would take it. In reality, this last week might be the last chance he’ll get to try and fix what he’s done. 

“Spitfire,” he implores gently, hands squeezing you. “Say something. Anything.” 

Your eyes flicker back, face lost. How fast you could go from hating this man to relying on him. “Are…you coming back?”

Kyle’s breath is a shaky exhale. “I…”

He doesn’t know. He can’t answer that.

“When do you leave?” You grow more upset at his silence. Panicked even. How dare he come here and do this to you after all of it? Your heart is pounding, veins bulging with blood that rampages with fast aggression. 

“Soon.” The Sergeant clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I know whatever I say won’t make it any better.” He repeats his apology. “It’s my own fault, and I can’t take it back.”

You don’t know what overtakes you, but before you can stop your limbs, you’ve already snapped your arms around his neck, dragging him into your body. The man, while shocked, goes willingly—returning the embrace tightly. 

His hands curl, cruel warmth overtaking you as Gaz sets his head on your shoulder and lets your head burrow into his neck. A weak exhale leaves your sputtering lungs, and the marks on your palm burn like the space behind your eyes. 

Leaving? No, he can’t leave you here.

Hurt melts with sickness, encased in a film of fear. Fear. He can’t do this. No, not now. Not now. 

Not now that you care about him. 

“I hate you,” you force out, voice warbling. Maybe you were always just a fool. “I hate you, Kyle Garrick.”

“I know,” he breathes, not letting you go—pulling you tighter to his chest as your air caresses his neck like a sea storm; clouds of ice and a sky of fire, the boat battered by ardent winds. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

Words only mean so much, but they help when they’re uttered into the skin of your temple—the British accent rolling off his tongue. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He holds you for a long while, and by the end of it, you say in a hard tone, “I’m going home and grabbing what I need.” 

The man lets his eyelids flutter closed. 

“Okay.”

So that was how on the last day he was here, Kyle brought you breakfast, and soon after you’d finished the plate, not expelling it all to your own surprise, you were both off with an escort squad headed by the Sergeant. You were able to rely on a cane for the time being, feeling better even if the news had your mind in a worse way than it had been previously. 

Your mother had been against it—vehemently. 

“There’s no reason for you to go back,” she had said. “You’re going to get yourself hurt!” 

But it was apparent as the car moved through the blackened gates, which had been busted off their hinges, that the house had been utterly abandoned. Kyle had explained that the group from the town—Firebird, as you recall—had been watching over it and seen no one enter or exit. 

“Are you sure?” The Sergeant was in full gear, sitting in the back with you as the car ambled along up the driveway. 

You don’t look at him. “I’ll be quick.” 

Kyle shifts, the assault rifle over his chest and hat on his head. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses even if you can still feel them on you as the time lengthens. The wheels pull to a stop, and the driver comments that they’re parked and all ready to exit. 

“Sweep the perimeter,” Garrick explains, clicking into his comm line. A volley of copies wafts out like a flock of birds on the wind, and out of the window, you watch the overgrown hedges sway with their dying leaves. Autumn was here, now, and you could feel it in your bones. 

“I can go in and grab what you need—”

“Kyle,” you sigh, shifting to gaze into the reflection of your own visage in his glasses. He frowns delicately. “Please.”

“Just concerned, Love.” He explains.

“I know you are,” you can’t help a flicker of a smile, skin crinkling. “Worse than my mother.” 

“Well,” he smirks, “now that’s an achievement. I get a medal for that?”

“And what medal would you want?” You play along, quirking a brow. It was easy to forget he was leaving when he talked so casually to you. “Unfortunately, I don’t have one that says ‘idiot’ on the plaque.” You liked how his lips moved when he spoke—his fingers twitching over the body of his gun like he was always so deep in thought to control them. His shifting feet. Kyle’s easy air. 

That stupid, bloody, hat. 

“Oh yeah? What else are you going to give me, then?” The Sergeant mirrors you with a raised brow, neck bending, and a wide upward motion to his lips. The tone is a flowing tease that leaves your body tingling, and your legs moving closer to one another.

At a shocked pause, a certain electricity enters the air. Kyle rubs at the back of his neck softly, and the sound of his skin is almost enough for you to shift closer. Blinking, you realize you’d been staring at his lips far too intensely—blind to the fact he’d been doing the same.

“The ability to keep your sanity,” you deadpan, rolling your shoulders as the ache in your wound is dull. “Don’t thank me.”

“Can’t complain about that one.” Kyle shifts his thighs on the seats as he mutters. Soon after the radio opens with a soldier giving the all-clear and you grab the cane from the floor with a huff as Gaz’s door opens and closes.

Hand moving to the handle after you’re situated, the barrier opens to the Sergeant on the other side, his vest strapped to his chest. Kyle smiles teasingly as he reaches out, fingers loose.

“Ma’am,” you roll your eyes but slip your limb into his, the gloves he wears rough against your flesh. 

Muttering as your feet carefully settle to the ground, you look up into his face sarcastically, “Such a gentleman.”

“Well, thank you,” he winks, stubble moving. But he slips back into a sheen of seriousness easily. “Slowly, now.”

You huff, already off to the door—also busted open with yellow tape around the front. The stitches in your thigh pull, but it isn’t something that will make you slow down. You’re here to grab what you need—your jacket, your coin. Answers. 

Shifting the tape away, you move into the foyer, soldiers milling around and talking to one another over the radio. Like ants, they shuffle, moving from one point to another in case of any attack from the phantoms in the air. 

It becomes harder to imagine a family living here. 

Eyes slip over the bloodstains, over the ruined hardwood, and the remains of family history. No amount of money could get the shattered remnants of a childhood back. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Gaz whispers to you, standing as a sentinel beside you as he takes his sunglasses off and hangs them off his collar. He can see how this might go. “There’s no shame in leaving, you know that?”

“It’s okay,” you blink away from the pool of crimson in the shape of a man. Brown eyes meet yours, concerned. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Kyle watches you walk away, his face loose and open before diligently following with a lick of his lips and a downward nod, ordering the two men in the foyer to watch the entrances. His face is hot.

When you’re upstairs, after many exasperated looks from the Sergeant, you wipe the sweat from your brow and move onward to your room. You wondered when you’d grown so used to gore and violence that now the sight of it meant nothing to you, sliding past the large splatters; the holes where Gaz had fired through the door. 

“Here,” you sigh, grabbing your canvas jacket from the bed where it had sat for days on end, balancing on one leg while you put the cane down and push your arms into the article. It doesn’t offer the same comfort it usually does, but it certainly helped. One hand takes back up your aid—the other slips into the pocket, finding that silver disc easily. 

The movement of a shadow makes you pause, looking over. 

Gaz is at your nightstand, and in his hand, he holds a picture. 

You’d forgotten about it, really. Stashed under the gun and hidden away—crumbled up so you wouldn’t have to see the faces printed out on it. You move to stand beside him and explain softly. 

“The day I was born. He had to rush to get to the hospital—he was so frazzled he nearly ran right past the delivery room.” Your dad was holding a small version of you, tears on his cheeks and his face in a wide smile. The hospital background is blurred around the two of you. “He always told that story on my birthday,” you finish, voice nothing but a mutter. 

The house suffocates everything.

Gaz had been watching you the entire time you’d been speaking, your arms brushing periodically.

The Sergeant offers the picture without a word, and you take it, fingers touching as you pause. There isn’t much that can be said about that. Skin to gloved skin, you hold the picture in between you, studying it as if you did, all of your questions would be answered. But the only answer that you know is that the pain of it will never fade—even if you can reduce it to an ache instead. Like the wound in your thigh, it’ll just scar over. 

“When I leave,” Gaz utters, hand moving to capture yours. “I’ll call. Everyday.”

“I doubt that,” your eyes tilt, faces close. “Everyone always says that.”

Firmly, Kyle squeezes your flesh, noses nearly touching.

“Not me,” the words are said so earnestly, there’s no room to deny them. 

You stare into his browns—the only eyes you’ll ever be able to look into fully and for so long, breath caught in your throat. It’s the way they shift; how they darken and lighten with every dip of his eyelids and shift of his dark lashes. He swallows, and you find yourself stuck on that image of his throat bobbing as if in slow motion. Your mouth goes dry as he speaks in a whisper that moves the air in front of your face. He’s closer now, hand holding yours on fire.

“Do you trust me, Spitfire?” 

It’s embarrassing how long it takes you to fully understand what he says, and only after your heavy lips move in the slightest show of speech that you’re stopped.

“We’ve got movement out front. Looks like reporters.”

The both of you jerk back, Kyle taking long steps away and panting as your eyes are wide with shock. Under the skin, twin suns with enough firepower to light galaxies ignite from his and yours’ features, sputtering meaningless words. 

Mouth opening and closing, the Sergeant nearly fractures his wrist bone as he wrenches his hand to his radio, pushing out a quick response of, “Be there soon.” 

He backs up another step as your mind whirls like a storm—good, bad, every thought in between. 

What had just happened? 

“S-,” he rubs a hard hand over his chin. “Stay here.”

And then he’s gone with a flash of gear. 

You don’t know how long you stared at that doorway, hand shaky and still outstretched. The picture in your hand had fallen to the ground moments before, twirling like a leaf. With a violent inhale, your other limb was clenched around the cane so tightly that the knuckles were clearly visible, blood pulsing with intent. 

Where you just about to…No, no that wasn’t what was happening. You shake your head, looking around to distract yourself. No. 

You pick up the picture with some difficulty and put it inside your pocket next to the coin. But it doesn’t stop the flight of your heart. 

Left on the coffee table was your phone, which you take and look at the countless missed calls and texts from Hector—you block his number and limp out of the room across the hall. It’s still damaged, the nightstand on its side and your personal laptop’s shattered screen on the floor. 

That makes you pause. 

Why would only one of the devices turn up missing if the other was still here? Even the man who had tried to steal it didn’t know the correct version. Your lips go thin, head moving around to study the space with a more brightly lit intensity. 

You zero in on the large wardrobe. 

Your blanket was still there, and if you can recall only snippets of what happened, there’s one that sticks out more than the other. You remember kicking the journal with your heel as you had pushed off the ground. Moving as fast as you’re able, you huff weakly as you near the large wooden structure, shifting the blanket aside. 

Nothing. 

“No,” you mutter to yourself, looking at where the wardrobe is held up by its four elegant legs. “Not nothing.” 

Moving one leg so that your knee hits the ground, you grunt and clench your jaw as your stitches pull tightly; letting the other limb follow. Your cane hits the ground with a clatter, but you care little. Going down on your hands and knees, stuck in cobwebs and sitting with some of its pages leaking out, your lock on the form of your father’s journal.

—

The drive back was silent. 

Kyle wouldn’t look at you, sunglasses back on and his fingers still over his service weapon. You didn’t comment, too occupied with the item you keep secret inside of your jacket, stuffed into the lining. 

You hadn’t told him that you’d found it, and to this moment, you still don’t know why you don’t. The thought was perhaps that, since he was leaving, it would be pointless, and on that front maybe you’d be right. This wasn’t his concern, but yours. 

But it was also because of that fact that you’d nearly kissed. 

Kissed. 

Your body is stiff in its seat. 

When you’d met back up with him only seconds after snatching the journal and cleaning off your knees, you’d been told about the reporters outside—journalists and news crews. It cut the visit short to the mansion, and with only a single glimpse of a black cat’s tail among the hedges of the front walkway, strangled amid the flash of cameras, you were back in the car.

There had been some talk about how they had known you were there, but none of it was anything sure.

And now you were trapped back here with him. Kyle. 

Kissed. 

The entire vehicle is suffocating in tension.

You don’t remember how long the ride is, how long it takes for the pounding in your skull to start when you can feel him shifting only a foot away. In your mind, you’re upset, but it’s not for the reason you should be. You can’t stop thinking about his hand on your thigh, pushing and pulling the skin—how he holds you so tightly and breathes into your ear. What was wrong with you? Out of everything he’s done? Him?

You’re not upset that he had tried to kiss you. You’re upset that he stopped.

Sitting in your seat, your gut swirls, an airiness to your brain. 

Without any concept of time beyond the treacherous thought of how his body would feel with its weight on top of yours, the base is already in sight and the car is parked with a silent squeal of the brakes. You snap out of it and ignore how the hair on your arms stands on end, and a low pulse emanates from deep inside of you. 

A tinge of sin to take down like bitter coffee. 

Someone opens your door, but it’s not Kyle. 

You lock eyes with Kate Laswell for three seconds before blinking away, but those three seconds are enough. Your oxygen gets choked up in your throat.

“Kate?” Gaz speaks over you, leaning forward in his seat to look around the barrier that is you. He tries not to linger on the fact that your scent is stuck inside of his nostrils, unable to get out the smell of your flesh. “Problem?”

“Not one that you can solve, Sergeant. You,” she nods her head your way as you go back to staring at her nose, frowning at her sudden arrival. “You’re going to come with me. I have a job for you.” 

“Excuse me?” You sound irritated, even to yourself. 

The woman’s response is quick and firm. “Do you want answers, or not?” That in and of itself renders you as silent as a bug. You didn’t want to admit how much Laswell intimidated you, even all that time back when you’d first officially met. You read her record—it wasn’t thin. Pages upon pages of achievements. “Good, follow me. Quickly.”

“Bit hard on the ‘quickly’ part of it,” you mutter, cane hitting the ground and feet following after. Kyle is swift with his exit on his own side, coming over and reaching out a hand to help. Inches above your skin, he halts with a twitch to his outstretched fingers. 

He takes a slow breath and lets his hand drop, eyes darting away. You don’t comment on it, and even the third member of this emotionally constipated club seems to pick up on something else going on—Laswell’s brow moving a millimeter upwards. 

“What’s this about, Ma’am?” Gaz’s voice is low, his hands up at the collar of his combat vest, trying to act casual. Being near you makes his head light all of a sudden, and it’s only his fault.

Maybe he really did need to leave. For both of you. Whatever had just happened was a massive step over boundaries. 

Kate waves a hand and you follow, eager to put distance between you and Kyle even if it pained you. He stays a good ways away, and the gap isn’t subtle. A pain in your heart joins the one in your thigh—the pressure behind your eyes. 

“Joey Lowe,” the name makes you blink.

“Who,” you ask dryly. 

Kate pushes open the door to the main building. “The man you shot two times. Not bad aim, by the way—internal bleeding and four broken ribs. The surgery took three hours to stop them from puncturing his organs.”

You make a face and Kyle’s confused expression turns to the woman in charge. “What’s he got to do with her? Thought you had him in interrogation.”

“We do,” Laswell is all business, sighing under her breath and guiding the both of you to who knows where. You try to share a glance with Kyle, but he only looks away. “He’s not speaking to us. I took the decision upon myself to find a pressure point.” A pause. 

Kate stops walking and you jerk back, cane slamming to the floor as she pivots and stares deeply into your eyes. You tense and glare into her nose. 

“You.” 

“Me?” You blink wildly. “I’m sorry, are we just forgetting that this dude shot me? You want me in a room with him?”

“Kate,” even Kyle has reservations about this, moving closer in and lowering his voice. “Are you sure this is the best way to go about this?”

“This has already been going on for too long,” the woman says, unbreaking in her conviction. “He won’t speak unless there’s something to push him and we can’t risk him in his current state.”

You don’t want to think about what that last comment implies, but you aren’t entirely opposed to this. Answers were answers, and if it meant this nightmare was over with sooner, you’d do it. Maybe you really were losing your rocker. 

Kyle’s jaw clenches, moving back and straightening his spine. This wasn’t your job, you shouldn’t have to even think about this. 

“Spitfire,” he tries to gain your attention as he sees you in thought, legs shifting him to you. “You don’t have to agree—”

“I’m in.” His heart skips a beat.

“This is bullshit,” Gaz grunts and your eyes widen as they slash over to look into his sunglasses. “You do not have to go through with this, you understand that, yeah? We can get answers another way that doesn't involve civilians.” The last is directed at Kate, who frowns and crosses her arms over her blouse. 

“Any other ways that you suggest we do that, Kyle?” A silence. “If I recall, you’re supposed to be getting ready for take-off. The C-17 is waiting to take you to Russia with supplies for your Task Force.” 

You try to stop the tight inhale, but it slips out like a fish to sea. A head fights itself to not gaze at you. Such dead air settles that you half expect the world to be frozen if not for the occasional soldier that moves past, giving glances over to the tension-ridden group. 

“Kyle?” You ask, voice small. 

He stays well away. “You don’t have to.”

A flare of that stubborn spite gradually fills you back up. The man makes you care about him—nearly kisses you, gives you all of these mixed signals…and then goes cold again? It was rude; cruel. It was…confusing. 

And the best thing you can do when life gets confusing is to cage yourself in. 

“I’m doing it,” you say, voice tiny but sure of itself. Neither of you breathes, and the man pleads with himself to try and fix this before it's too late. Tell you it was a mistake…but was it? Can he lie? 

“...You better get going.” Your mind is made. “You don’t want to miss your flight, Sergeant.” There were a million things that needed to be said—to be spoken about in the long nights and the gentle mornings. But in the minute where both of your eyes could be felt gracing one another’s, brown trapped behind the glare of his glasses and yours, hidden by your own pained will, there wasn’t a word that could be uttered. Not without making things far more harder than they already were. 

“Good luck,” you say, but the ink of the words bleeds.

It’s as if every grand step that this week has taken has been based and reduced down to zero. Kyle opens his mouth to respond, but you’ve already walked past with Laswell, leaving him behind as he stands in the hallway staring at nothing.

He doesn't remember a time when he’d clenched his hands so hard. He doesn't remember a time when he had to restrain his legs from chasing after someone. 

And he certainly doesn't remember a time when he could physically feel his heart break his mind. 

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#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #cod mw22 #x female reader #mw2 #call of duty x you #mw2 2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader #gaz call of duty #gaz #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz garrick #cod gaz #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x you #cod gaz x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #mw x reader

[lilacargent]

Here we go again,

Puzzles/ jigsaws would confuse Aliens so much

Set on the serpentine, beginning of the humans tenure

Important crew:

Primoz, captain -Limoyh a four armed species-Krag, second in command (brother of Primoz)

Kit, dokter -avian, bird like, she has feathers like a swallow-

Ortez, ASR (all species resources, human resources in space) -kiltak, insectoid species, think ants but exoskeleton-

Lugea, helmsperson (does the steering) -rock like alien-

Artex, engineer/mechanic 1 -also Kiltak-

And then our humans:

Kamari, navigator -Eritrean woman- (has cat named Sidra)

Markus, weapons expert (knows how to use them and upkeep, also shields) -Swedish man-

Petrus, mechanic/engineer 2 - Italian man-

Lilly, administrator/note keeper (learns languages for fun)-english woman-

~~~~~~~

Puzzles

The serpentine is on route between trading posts, this is currently the furthest route without proper jump point because of the static energy surrounding the dual planets castor and pollux.

Primoz is getting worried. The humans are becoming increasingly more jittery and Kamari looks like she a pinch away from punch someone, Markus has been ‘humming’ a song that annoys her greatly. Honestly the noises the tall man is making don’t seem that bad but every few minutes her eyebrows twitch which Ortez told him is a sign of frustration.

Before the captain can figure out how to keep them from doing something deathworld worthy, Lilly comes in with precariously stacked carton boxes and Petrus carrying a table. Setting the pile down the smallest human straightens out “look what i brought! Old earth puzzles! This one has a deer and this one has the old world wonders” immediately the humming stops and Markus is at the table with Petrus “oh yes Lilly you are the best! I wanna do the deer one, that is gonna be a challenge”

With the table in the corner of the bridge the tension among crew is nearly gone, as all species try to put the cut apart pictures together, Lilly brought 9 puzzles and at a certain point a competition was forming: after one of the human unit had finished a puzzle the other crew try to make it in less time. They have yet to win.

Looking at his relaxed crew Primoz grins at his brother who is trying to use all his four arms to put pieces together without much succes. Turning away from the competition he taps Lilly on her shoulder “how do you guys do it? Also why did you think to take these things with you.” Lilly looks up from her drawing (the crew bent over the table making the puzzle) “well i knew it was going to be a long trip, Kamari thinks Markus will be ‘professional’ but he can’t help himself” her soft smile when she puts air punctuation around professional makes her look much younger than she is “puzzles are something many humans enjoy, not everyone is as good at them as Markus, but he does this thing where he uses the shape of them more than colours. While he isn’t colour blind, he has real trouble with telling differences in shades. No idea why it works this well but it does, Petrus has already won three nights of free drinking on Castor from betting.” All of a sudden looking bashful Lilly ducks her head “ah eh yes sorry forget i said that we don’t bet on this at all!” Primoz just grins “nobody has broken anything this whole trip, im not going to disrupt the flow you and your unit created. Don’t worry.”

At arrival Petrus has won the whole human crew free drinks for the foreseeable future, and the crew in its entirety hooked on puzzles. While not all species see the colours the same way or understand the patterning in the pieces the feeling of putting in the correct pieces makes it such an enjoyable activity that Lilly brings new puzzles after every holiday back home.

~~~~~~~~~

This one was born out of the confusion my family had when we were making puzzles (jigsaws?) the pictures in pieces… this is where it becomes super clear English is not my first language. Anyway, we had two puzzles out and they were so surprised i could differentiate the positions the pieces needed to be in without context. I had to tell them that the pattern otherwise won’t make sense,

I have the same thing as Markus that colours are fine unless you put several of the same colours next to each other and call them different. This is why the deer one is super hard,

The two puzzles that were described:

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #humans in space #humans are space capybaras #humans are weird #puzzle #jigsaw #humans are insane

[sparklingself]

𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

you have a desire, you imagine it to be true - you do everything right. but for some reason you still feel like there’s something to be done and you’re getting thoughts of “what if it fails?” and “am i doing everything right?”. and then you can’t stop but obsess over your desire, thinking about it all the time to a point where you start to feel burnout because you’re trying so hard.

why does this happen? because you lack confidence. you doubt yourself, you don’t see yourself as capable.

how can you fix this?

notice the thoughts you have throughout the day (i recommend you read my mental diet post too) and ask yourself “would someone who loves themselves think that?” if the answer is no, then reverse the thought in a way to make the answer yes.

this can extend even to your desires. “would someone who loves themselves desire that?” eg why would someone who truly loves themselves desire someone who isn’t kind to them? don’t bring yourself to such a low position to think you deserve a person like that.

stop comparing yourself to other people. they are just a projection of you. be the best you can be. you have the capability to change what you imagine. when you change your present opinion about yourself, you are changing your future. it’ll be easier and overall more enjoyable.

build a kinder self-image. do kind things to others in your imagination and say kind things to yourself.

A change in feeling is a change in destiny. - Neville Goddard

I am going to give you a little secret... People say, "But I work so hard at it," well that is why you are failing. Assume it and let it be. You will be working under compulsion manifest it. What do you do after someone is pregnant? Just let it be. - Neville Goddard

all you need to do is feel it to be true, and once the feeling starts to fade away, let it be. know it is done.

#loa #loassumption #law of assumption #neville goddard #mental diet #self concept #living in the end #affirm and persist #law of attraction #manifestation #manifesting #law of abundance #law of manifestation #manifest #edward art #spirituality #void state #meditation

[charlessmiths-wife]

today I’ve been gradually reminded of how much I love Daniela more and more. so have these few head cannons to commemorate that

cw - mentions of sex/sexual content

DANI HCS

-> soft.

-> like, her skin is so so soft - she makes a perfect pillow.

-> also, always alarmingly cold to sleep beside. to the point you once woke up bc you felt smth wet sliding along your arm only to realise it was her hand sliding up and down you. She’s oblivious to how freezing she is too.

-> “I wanted to warm you up!”

-> yeah, with her ice cold hands.

-> LOVES reading, but also if you introduced the concept of video games to the Dimitrescu family, Dani would go ape shit.

-> she would be a MENACE on Wii sports

-> would 100% get fully invested in games like tomodachii life, animal crossing, Stardew valley

-> someone buy this woman a Nintendo switch, please.

-> she already loves playing board games, though - I’d risk to say that she’s actually the most competitive (maybe behind Cassandra)

-> absoloute BEAST at cluedo. will win every time.

-> she’s a cuddler!

-> I agree with the general fandom hc she’s the most physically affectionate… HOWEVER I ARDENTLY DISAGREE WITH THE ONE SHES GOT THE HIGHEST SEX DRIVE

-> listen, Dani likes sex - but it’s not a necessity for her every single day. and it’s certainly not something she takes lightly.

-> to her - someone obsessed with romance novels - it’s an act of intimacy. a showing of love between two people.

-> so whilst she has some experience, I truly believe she’s only ever slept with people she’s loved - at some point or another.

-> and this means she’s not generally a fan of quickies. sure, sometimes they can be enjoyable, but she typically likes to take her time with her partner - kissing and worshipping every inch of skin she can.

-> (praise kink, both giving and receiving)

-> her love language is a mix of physical affection, words of affirmation, and gift giving.

-> all five are important to her, but those are her top three.

-> especially physical affection and words of affirmation. she loves you so much, some days she just clings to you when she can. telling you how important you are to her, how much she loves you and wants to be with you forever, all whilst softly kissing your lips or forehead.

-> her face way to cuddle is to lie face to face, her head in your neck or vice versa.

-> she can see you that way, and softly kiss your cheeks.

-> and the gift giving. God, the gift giving.

-> just always showering you with the most expensive jewellery, perfumes, clothes, books - literally anything she can

-> and when you try to tell her to stop, that it’s too much and you feel bad - she reassures you absoloutely not too, because she loves doing it.

-> “I just want my darling to have the best possible stuff” she’d say, kissing your cheek

-> I think Dani can very often be seen as the most goofy of the Dimi sisters, whilst I don’t disagree with this - I don’t entirely agree with it either?

-> she can be as sincere, brooding, quiet, and closed off as her sisters can be at first.

-> but she’s much easier to break than Bela or Cassandra are, I think. She opens up to you much quicker.

-> simply put, I think all three are little shitheads with hearts of gold and complete melts deep down, (yk, if you ignore the murder and stuff) however, Dani’s meltines is just easier to bring to the forefront.

-> surprisingly good cook?

-> this is funny because it stands in contrast to my own personal hc for Bela. which is that woman cannot cook to save her LIFE.

-> so I have an interesting mental image of cooking with the pair, Bela slowly and slowly becoming more frustrated with how easy

-> Alcina is a good mother, she genuinely cares for all her children and I would just like to state I strongly believe that

-> however, I do think Dani has felt slightly neglected in the past. at times it’s seemed as if Bela and Cassandra are more useful to her mother, leading Daniela to believe she values them more.

-> however, this isn’t true - and she’s always calmed down by assurances of her mothers love for her.

-> she loves both her sisters, but I think she gets on with Bela slightly better than Cass. Her and Cass have a unique relationship, I don’t think they’ve always gotten along - but they love each other so much, any differences have only ever came because they’ve looked out for each other.

-> all three of them truly love each other, though. and they’re all insanely competitive.

-> over stupid things though. Like these three would be horrible to play a game of monopoly with.

-> whilst I don’t agree with the idea I’ve occasionally seen that Dani isn’t a danger (because… she literally did spend her section of the game trying to kill a man, just like the others) I do agree that she’s the most… civil, let’s say , with the maids

-> this isn’t to say I generally agree the other Dimitrescus spend their time just killing any and everybody, because I don’t - but this is me saying I think Daniela generally tries to somewhat get on with the help where she can. talking to them about books, the village, anything. it gives her company, which is something I think she values.

-> the most poetic person ever maybe. she spends so much time reading - both novels and poetry - it almost bleeds into how she speaks.

-> her favourite book is the secret garden - I just think it fascinates her, especially during the winter months where she can’t leave the Castle.

-> very sleepy girly, nothing usually too excessive, but she definitely gets her full eight hours every night, usually up to nine or ten - and on rare days she’s even been known to sleep fourteen hours.

-> god, I could go on forever. I just love her so much she deserves the world I’m so soft for her 🥹🥹 apologies for how incoherent this likely was, I just have so many thoughts on her and I sort of word vomited them lol

#resident evil #resident evil village #re village #resident evil 8 #re8 #resident lover #daniela dimitrescu #Daniela Dimitrescu x reader #she’s so bbg #I ADORE HERRR SM

[stardust-falling]

One very neat thing I’ve seen with my fanon-debunking meta blog is how differently people react to the debunkings and analysis— not counting any bad faith responses, there are some people who feel vindicated when a popular interpretation is fanon, some people who are relieved when it isn’t entirely disproven, and some replies such as “it’s good to know where it comes from, but this is also an important head canon to me personally even if it goes against canon for <reasons>” and in the end, really, it’s important to remember that every person brings their own experiences to the way they interact with fandom— and that even when something goes against canon, fandom has been transformative from the beginning anyway.

As much as any one person might despise a certain interpretation, there’s another person who it’s equally important to. Personally, there are a lot of interpretations I don’t like and which even make me uncomfortable, but I do think people should still be able to enjoy fandom in the way that best suits them and resonates with them— in the end, I think fandom should stop thinking of OOC as a dirty word. You can write characters OOC to canon, if that’s what you like— if it’s tagged correctly there wouldn’t be half the issues there are. If you’re changing up the way a character behaves, their motivations, their worldviews from the way they are canonically, tagging the work as “<character> is OOC” and posting it is perfectly fine! I can’t say that you shouldn’t write such a story, or that you can’t find enjoyment, or catharsis, or whatever else in it because that’s none of my business.

OOC isn’t inherently bad— when it’s a choice being made for the story. I think a lot of the issues come when the OOC behavior isn’t tagged, because then readers will assume that the way the character is being written is the way you interpret canon.

TLDR; transformative works that change aspects of characters even if directly against canon are perfectly fine and morally neutral actually, please just tag OOC if you’re writing it so that people expecting and looking for canon-accuracy won’t think you’re just misinterpreting canon. That would save creators a lot of “actually this is canonically incorrect” messages, and let others avoid interpretations they’re not looking for.

#svsss #zhuixing rambles #fandom #putting this in the main tag bc it’s the fandom my meta blog is about but #it’s important for any fandom

[vivid-ink]

"To Know You Again" Chapter 1 - Homecoming

Pairing: Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya OC Summary: “Do you remember our last night here? The night before my family left?” The warm, rumbling timbre of Neteyam’s voice washed over her. “Yes,” Naia whispered. How could she forget?... She had replayed the memory of his lips over and over numerous times. One corner of Neteyam’s mouth lifted in a small smile as his eyes tracked over the delicate bridge of her nose and over her steadily flushing cheeks. His gaze stopped to rest on her lips, “You gave me something that night. I think it's time I returned it."

An exploration of what if Neteyam had to leave a girl he was close to behind when his family fled to the reefs to seek refuge. AU - Set 7 years after TWoW, exploring the many emotions and the eventual romantic reunion between Neteyam and his love. Warnings: Adult content 18+, MDNI Content: Romance, drama, angst, fluff, sexual content, smut, soulmates, bonding. Word Count: 6k Notes: This is my shorter chaptered piece, which is cross-posted on AO3 and Wattpad too. But I've noticed that the Avatar fandom seems much more active on here, so here is my story's Tumblr debut. I hope this brings you Tumblr folks much enjoyment! <3

Pronunciation note: Manaia – Ma-ny-uh, or Ny-uh for the shortened version of the OC's name.

Manaia’s disgruntled eyes seethed at the mortar and pestle before her as her hands furiously worked, grinding away at the tough roots in the wooden receptacle. If looks could kill, the implements she held would be smoking now, charred and blackened by her resentful gaze.

The tsahìk’s hut was filled with her mother’s exasperated voice, countered only by Mo’at’s unruffled words as the Omatikaya tsahìk sat by Manaia, grinding her own roots and herbs in a separate mortar.

“Talk to her, tsahìk!” Ayepni implored, gesturing avidly toward her daughter while she paced to and fro before the pair of women seated on the ground, “She will not be betrothed to Tupou!”

Ever unflappable, Mo’at took in a slow and meaningful breath and her voice was placating as she addressed Manaia, “Tupou is in line to be the next olo’eyktan and as tsakarem (trainee tsahìk), it is tradition that you will be mated to him when the time comes for you both to lead this clan.”

Manaia hissed acridly, repudiating the sentiment, “Well then perhaps the Omatikaya should appoint another tsakarem! Leylani perhaps?”

“You have trained as a healer and spiritual shaman for years! All through the Long War you have aided tsahìk Mo’at and studied under her. Will you throw all of the hard work she has put into you away?” Ayepni exclaimed, maddened, “All because of your silly feud with Tupou?”

“There isn’t any silly feud!” Manaia refuted, slamming her pestle down into her mortar with enough force that chunks of masticated root flew out of the vessel to spatter the mat beneath her. She did not have any feud with Tupou, they simply did not get along. They never had, even when they were younger. Tupou found her mouthy impudence unladylike and she found his cocksure demeanour infuriating. She continued, “We’re just very different people and we don’t get along. Besides, Leylani has trained with me under Mo’at too. There isn’t any reason the role of tsakarem can’t be passed to her.”

Mo’at surveyed the bickering mother and daughter with shrewd eyes. Manaia had been a conscientious student through the years and her bond with Eywa was strong. The girl had all the makings of a great tsahìk and Mo’at had sensed that this was to be the girl’s path since she was a child.

A mild headache bloomed behind her temples and Mo’at sighed quietly to herself. If only her daughter’s family had not had to leave the clan at the start of the Long War. Things would be so much simpler now with the hierarchy as it was then, with Jake as olo’eyktan and Neteyam as his successor. Neteyam and Manaia had been close as children…

“It has been many moons since the end of the Long War and you are a woman now, Naia. Time to grow up!” Ayepni admonished, ceasing her pacing to stand before her daughter, her tail swishing in annoyance behind her, “Tupou is an accomplished and well-respected warrior. He is handsome and well-bred. It would be an honour for you to have him as your mate.”

Manaia bristled at her mother’s patronising use of her shortened name. There had only ever been one person she accepted calling her by her nickname and she had not seen him in years. “I don’t wish to be betrothed to Tupou! I have prayed to our Great Mother and I don’t see him in my path. I don’t see myself mating any man!”

Naia knew her last words were a lie.Her heart belonged to a boy she once knew; a boy who would be a man now, living far away in the reef clans. She would mate him in a heartbeat if she could... Alas, dreams were free.

With a loud snarl of frustration, Ayepni swept out of the tsahìk’s hut, leaving Naia alone with her mentor.

“I apologise, tsahìk.” Naia breathed quietly, returning to her task of pulverising the contents of her mortar, “That argument should not have happened in front of you.”

To Naia’s surprise, Mo’at chuckled, “It’s alright child. Your mother has always had a hot temper and a quick mouth. You are more alike than you know. She just wants what is best for you.”

Naia grunted in acknowledgement, slowly decanting the mashed roots into a larger vessel. Her thoughts were running away with her now, leading her to the reefs of Pandora where she wondered how he was and how he was doing. Her heart whispered his name… Neteyam… How did he spend his days? Was he happy? Mated, perhaps? Naia banished the thought when it pricked sharply in her chest. It would not surprise her if he was. Now that the war was over, people had begun returning to their lives, finding love and happiness again. He was a world away from her…

The Long War against the sky demons had waged for six painful years. Many lives were lost and the balance of life had been upset. Victory had come about at the Great Mother’s hands when she fed a hallowed plague to the waters of Pandora, poisoning the sky demons. The sky demons had perished, but all who held faith in Eywa had escaped unharmed.

The clinking of the wooden bangles around Mo’at’s wrists as she worked was a pleasant and soothing sound, and Naia forced her thoughts away from Neteyam. He was a beautiful memory from her younger years and he would stay that way. There was no use stirring up her tender emotions from the past. After all, it was also a little awkward daydreaming of Mo’at’s grandson in her presence.

Mo’at watched as Naia refilled her mortar; a sprinkle of pungent herbs, a dash of seeds and a splash of oil to make an invigorating infusion to energise and revitalise. The young woman was lost in her thoughts and a small crease knitted her brows in a frown. Mo’at’s gaze trailed from Naia’s face, down her seated form, graceful and lithe. Gone was the tomboyish girl who had refused to keep her hair any longer than her chin, who had hated excessive jewellery and elaborate clothing.

Not that Naia was vain now by any means, but she had grown more feminine as she had matured into a young woman. Her head was shaven on one side, but the intricately beaded braids of her hair brushed her shoulders on her other side. Large, gold eyes sat in an oval-shaped face with a delicate nose and smooth, wide lips. She was pretty, though Mo’at knew Naia would never agree. Not when Naia’s days were spent learning alongside Leylani who was objectively considered one of the most beautiful young women among the Omatikaya.

Setting down her own implements, Mo’at reached out to clasp Naia’s wrist gently, getting her attention, “Do you want to be tsahìk after me, child?”

Naia’s eyes met Mo’at’s piercing but tender gaze. She could not lie to the woman. Mo’at often perceived things without ever being told, courtesy of Eywa, she supposed. Naia had never spoken to anyone of the tender feelings she had harboured for Neteyam all these years, but as Mo’at’s crinkled eyes bore into her, Naia could not help but feel as though the woman knew anyway.

Remembering then that she had been asked a question, Naia cleared her throat and replied, “I don’t want to be tsahìk if it means I have to mate Tupou or any other potential successor in this clan.”

“Because you think boys are gross?” Mo’at teased, chortling, and a toothy grin danced across her wizened features at the look of shock on Naia’s face. It was a sentiment that Naia often used to proclaim as a teenager when all her peers had gone through the starry-eyed phase of discovering the opposite sex. Mo’at knew there were rumours that ran rampant about Naia’s preferences. She had never so much as flirted or dallied with any of the clan’s young males and with her tomboyish past, many thought she maybe preferred women. But Mo’at knew better; Manaia had only ever had eyes for one boy…

Naia gawped at the older woman and she felt a flush heat her face. She proclaimed indignantly, “I don’t think boys are gross!” She pursed her lips and a sheepish grimace followed, “Not anymore anyway. I do like men, just not Tupou.”

Laughing heartily now, Mo’at hushed the young woman, “Don’t fret. I don’t believe the gossip that goes around the clan.”

“Good. People spout a lot of rubbish!” Naia gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes then, “Nimwey brought her boy in to see me the other day about the pustules on his face. It was just typical teenage skin, you know, hormones and all. Apparently she’s been telling him his skin is like that because he never cleans his food bowls off properly, and every grain of wheat he leaves behind causes a pustule on his face!”

Mo’at guffawed at the ridiculous old wives’ tale, and then her expression turned sombre as her laughter died down. She reached out to stroke Naia’s cheek, her eyes meaningful, “If the Great Mother does not mean for Tupou to be part of your path, then he won’t be. But you must be open to all possibilities, Manaia. Let not your heart cling on to tender hopes of the past, lest it forgo the opportunities of the future.”

Rumbles of discomfort rolled in Naia’s gut at Mo’at’s words. She knew exactly what the tsahìk’s implication was. While her mind agreed wholeheartedly, Naia could not snuff out the flame she held in her heart that seemed determined to burn bright for eternity. She had tried many times before and had failed miserably. Neteyam was her first thought in the morning and her last thought at night... The years that had passed since the Sully family’s departure had done nothing to change that.

“If Tupou will be olo’eyktan after Tarsem, then Leylani should be tsakarem. She is skilled in your teachings too, as I am.” Naia declared stubbornly, “They are close and Tupou much prefers her. They would certainly make a stronger partnership than Tupou and I.”

Mo’at exhaled with a resigned sigh. The young woman was stubborn. Unease prickled at Mo’at’s skin as she considered what arrangements would need to be made to formally appoint a new tsakarem. It was true that both Leylani and Manaia had trained competently under her, but Mo’at had always had a deep, unspoken sense that the tsahìk’s path was Manaia’s to walk.

Not wanting to cause any more dispute for the moment, Mo’at reluctantly acquiesced, “Alright, I will speak to the clan’s elders. The responsibility can be transferred to Leylani.”

“Thank you, Mo’at.” Naia said, swallowing the tight lump in her throat. Healing was her calling though and while relinquishing her role as tsakarem would mean she would no longer be a spiritual leader, she still wanted to practise her healing skills. The thought caused her to add in quickly, “I’d still like to work with you and heal though. If you’ll allow me to.”

The tsahìk’s expression softened and she graced Naia with an earnest smile, “Of course, child.”

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Naia’s parents had been less than impressed with her decision to step down from her role as tsakarem. She had returned each evening after her workday to the disappointed gaze of her father, and her mother’s cold shoulder was a silent force to be reckoned with. It had taken a few weeks for the storm to blow over before her mother started speaking to her again.

A chesty cough reminded Naia of her present surroundings and she returned her attention to the child before her. Little Entu was suffering from a severe bronchial infection and the toddler squirmed, fretting in discomfort as his lungs fought to draw in breath. She smoothed her cool fingers over the child’s forehead to soothe him. Bringing a pungent smoke roll of medicinal herbs to her lips, Naia sucked a breath into her mouth and blew the smoke out over the child. The tsahìk’s hut was already hazy with the spicy fumes and she prayed it would help relax the child’s airways.

“He is better than yesterday,” Mo’at remarked, tidying away a set of stoppered vessels from her work station in the corner, “Still coughing badly, but it is mostly an irritant to him than a threat to his life.”

Naia sighed and nodded, “The cough just sounds so awful coming from a little one so young. He will need to stay here tonight still.” Another whine escaped the child and she returned to pacifying him with gentle murmurs.

“Yes, Leylani will come and relieve you soon. She will take the night shift and watch him.”

Eclipse was nearing and the horizon had begun to paint itself in shades of auburn and pinks as the light began to fade. The beautiful light illuminated the vast crevice at the mouth of the Omatikaya’s High Camp stronghold, casting shadows against the rocky walls of the cave system as people milled about.

Naia stretched her neck from side to side, hearing the vertebrae pop and snap quietly from her movements. It had been a long day and she was looking forward to having some time to herself unwinding in her grotto. The grotto that had once been their spot.

There was commotion outside the hut then and Naia’s ears pricked upward in alertness. Gasps and cries of surprise sounded from the people outside, followed by ululating calls of joyous welcome. Something was happening. Mo’at rose to her feet and she padded over the carpeted floor to the entry of the hut, sweeping the draping cloth aside to peer out the entrance.

The older woman gave a sharp inhale and a beaming smile swept across her sage face. Naia heard it then; the words and cries being shouted outside.

“Toruk Makto!”

“Toruk Makto’s family have returned!”

She froze and a thick buzz settled over her ears. The only thing audible to Naia in that moment was the increasing rate of her beating heart. Was she dreaming?... Could it be true?

Naia’s gaze flicked to Mo’at who stood smiling at the mouth of the hut, one wrinkled hand over her mouth as tears of happiness began to pool in her eyes. Naia urged the woman, “Go, Mo’at! Go to them. I’ll stay with Entu.”

As much as Naia wanted to jump up and run outside to see for herself, she was still working, and of course Mo’at should be the first to see her family. Mo’at shot her a grateful look and promptly left to greet her kin.

Vaguely, Naia wondered to herself… Was Neteyam back too?... Her heart thundered with a myriad of emotions. Excitement, disbelief, nerves… She dared not to hope too much. Perhaps it was only Jake Sully and Neytiri who had returned for a visit. The Sullys had called the village reefs home for many years now, all through the Long War and even after. There was a real possibility that they would choose to remain there permanently.

Looking down, Naia discovered that Entu had fallen asleep, the child’s chest rising and falling in shallow but consistent breaths. The sounds of celebration and reunion continued outside, and the temptation to join the throng was strong. Glancing downward one last time at Entu, she figured a look would not hurt. She would not leave the hut, but she could at least watch from the entrance.

Approaching the flap at the entry, she reached for the draped cloth and shifted to stand in front of it, keeping it pushed out of the way with her body. Four splendid ikran stood perched on the edge of the cave mouth, heads tossing as a younger woman tended to them. Tuk? By Eywa, she had grown! Naia still pictured a gambolling seven-year-old when she recalled memories of the girl.

Naia recognised Jake and Neytiri immediately, surrounded by a happy horde of clan members who had rushed to welcome them. Hugs and clasped forearms were being exchanged, and she spotted Mo’at among them who held her daughter in a tight embrace. Three Sullys identified, but judging by the number of ikran, it meant there was still a fourth…

There was another individual standing on Jake’s left, also being warmly received by several of the clan’s younger warriors from Naia’s generation. Was it Lo’ak or Neteyam? Naia shifted her feet impatiently, realising that the individual was being blocked by another male who had his back to her. She would recognise that flamboyant hairstyle anywhere; cropped on both sides with an elaborate cluster of braids trailing down the centre, adorned with beads and feathers. She rolled her eyes. Move your fat head, Tupou…

After what felt like an eon, Tupou stepped aside to allow a shorter young woman to greet the individual. Naia blinked scratchy eyes, squinting. Leylani’s shorter stature allowed Naia to glimpse the individual and her breath hitched when she finally laid eyes on him then. Neteyam! She watched, speechless, as Leylani leaned up to speak into his ear and Neteyam graced her with a wide smile in response.

Naia’s heart skipped a beat. The details were fuzzy at the distance she was watching from, but she knew without a doubt it was Neteyam. Eywa, she had missed that smile… He looked older, of course, grown up now, but it was still the same smile in the same face she remembered from her memories. He was so handsome…

More young warriors and hunters pushed forward to greet him. These were the people they had both grown up with and many of them had been close in their younger years. The eagerness to welcome their old friend was understandable. However, Naia did not miss Neteyam’s distracted gaze in-between his politely returned greetings. She saw his head swivel about, looking through and around the gathered crowd. He was looking for someone.

A sliver of hope unfurled in the depths of Naia’s heart. She followed the line of his golden gaze, flitting from person to person until he looked up then and his gaze locked with hers. His brows raised a fraction, as if in recognition and his eyes settled firmly on her. Heat flushed through Naia, prickling at the surface of her skin, rushing out to her fingertips and trickling down to her toes which curled slightly into the rug beneath them.

Suddenly feeling incredibly shy, she whirled away from the entrance, breaking the piercing eye contact and strode back into the hut.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

It was stupid, it really was. She was being ridiculous.

Naia had spent the better part of the last seven years dreaming of this day, fantasising of Neteyam’s return to the clan. Yet here she was, holed up in her little grotto like a coward. She had fled the tsahìk’s hut the moment Leylani had arrived to relieve her of her duties. The other woman had attempted to strike up excited conversation about the Sullys’ return, but Naia’s nerves had gotten the better of her and she had waved Leylani away as politely as possible with a fib about being fatigued.

The flame in her lantern flickered, signalling its imminent expiry and she sat upright to add more oil to it so it kept burning. This grotto had been their spot years ago.

After the dreaded return of the sky demons and the forced move to High Camp in the Hallelujah Mountains, she and Neteyam had found this isolated system of small caves not far from the stronghold during one of their evening explorations. Its nooks and crannies had served as convenient hidey-holes away from the worries of life. The grotto had been a quiet place for them to just be themselves with each other.

Naia looked around herself at the rugs that cushioned the ground and the soft bolster rolls she had stolen from her family’s tent to make the place more comfortable. The blanket around her knees was not even a blanket at all, but an old flying shawl that once belonged to Neteyam. With a growl of frustration, Naia pressed her fingers to her tired eyes and lay back again, peering up at the starry night through a fissure in the cave’s ceiling. She knew why she was nervous, knew where the feeling of dread that plagued her now was coming from.

The reality of Neteyam’s return had brought with it a confronting possibility, one that Naia had not thought of before as his return had never seemed likely. What if he did not feel the same way? What if he had not missed her at all?

What if she was the crazy one clinging sentimentally on to youthful feelings that for most people, would have probably faded away with time? Her heart squeezed at the thought. She had wished so long for this day and now that it was actually here, Naia ashamedly felt like she was safer in the illusory retreat of her dreams.

Naia had never planned to feel this way. Her feelings had crept up on her younger self and before she knew it, she had fallen in love. She remembered the day she had realised…

*** FLASHBACK - 8 YEARS AGO ***

Naia hovered by the entrance of the Sullys’ family tent, wringing her hands absently. She tried her best to tamp down the roil of nauseous worry in her gut. It was a happy day after all. Neteyam had passed his final rite of passage; his Dream Hunt.

Only the males in the clan completed this last rite and it was a dangerous feat. There were Na’vi who died during this rite, where they were put into a chemically induced trance by swallowing a psychoactive alkaloid worm and stung by a toxic arachnoid. The men would then begin their spiritual hunt for their path in life until the trance wore off.

Neteyam had passed, but the exercise took people to the edge of death and Naia knew that the ordeal had been taxing on her friend.

The heavy cloth flaps of the tent parted then and Neytiri exited. She stopped at the sight of Naia, registering the look of deep concern on the girl’s face. Neytiri cast a reassuring smile at Naia, knowing the girl would be worried for her son, “Hello Manaia. He’ll be alright. He’s asleep but you can go in and see him if you like.”

“Thank you, I’d like that.” Naia responded graciously, and she disappeared without any further preamble into the tent.

Neytiri bit back a chuckle. For a tomboy who proclaimed often that she found the opposite sex unappealing, she was certainly very attached to Neteyam. Naia certainly did not think Neteyam was gross.

Inside the quiet embrace of the Sullys’ home, Naia padded carefully over to where Neteyam lay on his back on his sleeping mat. Folding her legs beneath her, she sat by his side and surveyed him. His breaths puffed slowly and evenly from slightly parted lips as he slept and apart from a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, he appeared otherwise healthy. Naia felt her worry dissipate at the sight.

Neteyam was her best friend. She did not know what she would do without him.

Naia knew she was not like the other girls who gushed over new jewellery and spent hours re-braiding their long locks into intricate styles. Naia considered herself groomed as long as she ran her fingers through her short hair in the mornings and put on clean clothing. She was not demure by any means and her smart mouth often took people by surprise. Her peers found her odd and she was often excluded from company as a result. But Neteyam had always accepted her as she was.

There was a large bowl filled with water by Neteyam’s head and a clean pile of folded cloth squares sat beside it. Taking a square of cloth, Naia submerged it into the cold water and wrung it dry. She folded it in half and lay it across his forehead and repeating the same process, she lay another wet cloth over his chest. The warm season was humid and the cloths would help to keep him cool.

He looked so peaceful as he slept and Naia let her eyes follow the unique patterns of bioluminescent freckles that dotted his cheeks and trailed up the bridge of his nose to disappear under the cloth over his forehead. Dreamily, her gaze fell to the curve of his lips then. What would they feel like under her fingertips?... What would they feel like against her own?...

The last thought startled Naia out of her reverie. Embarrassment heated the pointed tips of her ears. Had she really just been thinking about kissing Neteyam? One half of her was aghast at the thought, while the other half wistfully pointed out that he was a nice boy and very nice to look at too. As she confronted her embarrassment, Naia let an involuntary groan of mock disgust escape her and it disrupted Neteyam’s restful state.

Neteyam’s face contorted and a pained groan left him. Cursing silently, Naia chastised herself for forgetting her surroundings and placed a hand on his chest to settle him with soft hushing. He squirmed even more then and his scrunched eyelids opened to reveal bleary gold orbs. Leaning over him so she could check his pupils like Mo’at had taught her, Neteyam jumped then at the sight of her.

“Hey, it’s OK, it’s just me.” Naia breathed steadily, removing the wet cloth from his forehead to soak it again in the cold water.

Neteyam grunted and a wan smile lifted the corners of his lips, “Sorry, I thought you were Leylani for a moment.”

Naia’s brows lifted in question and irritation flashed through her, “Why’d you think that?”

A sleepy mumble, “Dunno. She’s on duty today isn’t she? I thought maybe Grandmother had sent her over to check on me.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not Leylani and that you didn’t wake to her beautiful face instead.” Naia said, attempting to sound calm, though she knew she had failed miserably when her words sounded like a sour hiss even to her own ears.

Neteyam snorted and coughed as his laughter escaped him, “No, I just meant that I wouldn’t want her to see me like this.”

His words did nothing to assuage Naia’s flaring annoyance.

“Ugh, you boys are all the same, honestly! Drooling after her big eyes and her pouty lips-”

“Naia-”

“She could easily lead all of you round by your cocks-”

“Manaia-” A slow and deliberate growl from Neteyam.

“What?!” Naia spat heatedly, further displeased by Neteyam’s use of her full given name and his interruptions. She much preferred it when he called her ‘Naia’. Only he called her that.

Neteyam pursed his lips impatiently at her and sighed, “Don’t misunderstand me. I only meant that I wouldn’t be completely comfortable with Leylani checking on me. I’m glad it’s you. I don’t feel like I have to put up any fronts with you.”

Naia felt her irritation fizzle out at his sincere words. She gave a half-hearted harrumph in response and placed the cool cloth over his forehead again.

“Thanks Naia,” Neteyam muttered, before a teasing glint sparked in his eyes and he asked, “Did you worry for me?”

“Yes, of course.”

Neteyam snickered and he reached out with a hand to curl it over hers, causing a flurry of tingles to erupt in Naia’s stomach, “I told you I’d be OK. I’m a mighty warrior.”

Naia giggled in response to his quip. And there it was again, that warm and prickling urge to touch him. She wanted to nuzzle his cheek and kiss him.

Eywa help her, she was falling for him. Hard.

*** FLASHBACK END ***

They had grown particularly close in the last year before his family’s forced departure, and their relationship had teetered on the delicate line between friendly and romantic affection.

The passing of Neteyam’s final rite had meant that he was busy during the days with the rostered patrols and hunts that formed a warrior’s duties to the clan. Their separation during the days had only served to bring them closer in the evenings once Jake and Neytiri were done with their own work and Neteyam was relieved of watching his siblings.

Naia rolled over onto her side, tucking her face against one of the bolster rolls as she recollected their evenings together, a pensive smile dancing on her lips. They would meet at the grotto after last meal and Neteyam would regale her with tales of what had happened during his day’s patrol or the day’s hunt. They would play a game of Five Stones and talk of menial things, and when the season got cold, they would lie alongside each other under the blankets by a small fire and watch the stars until they fell asleep.

There had been a secure comfort between them when they were curled around each other for warmth; their skin pressed against each other’s as she lay tucked against him with her cheek against his shoulder. However, that was as far as their affection had gone.

In hindsight, Naia realised that she and Neteyam had basked in the luxury of the time they thought they had, unhurried and shy in their blooming bond. They had been young after all, fifteen-year-olds new to the idea of potential romantic connections. At least, Naia had assumed Neteyam felt the same way. She had never spoken of her growing feelings for him, nor had he given any verbal indication of his own, but she felt the tenderness between them had been evident in the way they were around each other.

When Naia had eventually made her feelings known to him, it had been out of sheer desperation as her world had crumbled around her; when they had run out of time.

*** FLASHBACK – 7 YEARS AGO ***

Tomorrow? They were leaving tomorrow? Naia stood stunned before Neteyam as her chest heaved with mounting panic at the revelation. Jake and Neytiri had broken the news to the Omatikaya earlier that day that the family would be leaving the clan to seek refuge elsewhere from the sky demons. It was both to protect their family as well as to protect the people.

Neteyam had managed to sneak away amidst the anxious bustle of his family while they packed their belongings and readied their ikran for the gruelling journey the morning would bring. He had known she would be waiting at their spot.

“How long will you be gone for? When will you return?” Naia asked tremulously, her golden eyes wide and frantic.

The burgeoning lump in his throat was beginning to hurt and Neteyam swallowed it down tightly, “I don’t know. Probably not for a long time, not until the danger of the sky people is gone.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Naia’s voice was a keening moan as her throat constricted from her imminent tears.

“I don’t want to go either, but it’s not safe for the people if we stay. The demons are hunting my family!”

“I want to go with you!”

“No, you can’t! You must stay here. Your family is here!”

Naia’s expression twisted into a pained grimace and her vision blurred, her eyes pooling with barely contained tears. Her breaths hitched as her frame fought to suppress the sobs that threatened to tear their way from her soul. Neteyam was her truest friend. She turned to him for everything and losing him would leave a gaping hole in her heart.

“Don’t cry, Naia. Please don’t cry.” Neteyam’s voice wobbled unsteadily, his own emotion threatening to overwhelm him. Naia never cried and the pitiful sight of her now caused a painful stab in his chest.

Neteyam’s words broke her and the floodgates of Naia’s tears burst forth. Her hands moved to shield her face as she sobbed and she felt Neteyam’s arms encircle her in a tight hug. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, pressing her face into his shoulder, while his other hand rubbed slowly up and down her back.

A voice he recognised to be his father’s called his name in the distance and Neteyam muttered a strong curse. Burying his nose into the Naia’s short choppy locks, he sighed softly, “I have to go now. I’ll miss you.”

Naia clung on even tighter to his shoulders at Neteyam’s words of farewell. She could not deny the truth of her feelings anymore and it hurt to hold them in. She was in love with him and she had been for many moons now. She felt his hands come to rest at her hips, gently trying to pry her away.

By Eywa, she loved him. However, her words would not come to her amid her hitching breaths. No matter. She could show him all the same. Naia’s grief made her bold and, stepping back, she cupped her face with both hands and leaned in to press a salty, tear-stained kiss to his lips. She felt him stiffen in her hold and his breathing halted. His lips remained unmoving beneath hers and Naia pulled away at the realisation.

Neteyam’s face was stricken as she blinked perplexed eyes at him. Hurt speared through her chest and Naia wondered if she had made a gross miscalculation. He had not returned her kiss.

Jake’s voice sounded again, this time in the much nearer vicinity, and Neteyam began his slow retreat as he made to leave. He cast a pained grimace at Naia and his head shook sorrowfully, “I’ve got to go, I’m sorry. Goodbye Naia, take care of yourself.”

Naia’s gaze never left Neteyam’s back as she watched him stride away and she felt her wounded heart plummet like a stone into her stomach.

Goodbye my love…

*** FLASHBACK END ***

Cussing quietly to herself at the memory, Naia cringed. Perhaps he had not felt the same way after all. The recollection of her unreturned kiss twinged in her chest and she quickly pulled the shutters down over her heart. It had been seven long years and she was grown now. Time to let her daydreams and childish fantasies go. She would need to pay her respects tomorrow; it would be improper not to greet Toruk Makto’s family and welcome them home. She would bury her feelings and treat it as a fresh start.

Letting her heavy eyelids droop, she tucked her knees closer to her chest and curled into a more comfortable resting position. Naia pulled the flying shawl up around her shoulders and turned to press her face into the soft bolster roll next to her. She resolved to sleep in the grotto tonight. Her parents knew she was very independent and if her occasional overnight disappearances bothered them, they had never remarked on it.

Sleep was almost fully upon her when a deep voice startled her out of her drowsy state, “Naia?”

Fright rushed through Naia in a powerful torrent and she leapt up in an instant to face the intruder, instinctively crouching low into a defensive position with a snarl, her tail lashing behind her. No one had ever found her here and the disturbance was a shock to her system.

The male at the grotto’s entrance immediately took several steps back, holding open hands out before him in a non-threatening display of submission, “Whoa sorry! Hey, it’s alright! It’s just me.”

Naia took in the sight of the large male in the burnished gold of the lamplight. Strong legs and narrow hips flared out to a lean torso. His chest and shoulders were well-muscled and woven armbands sat snugly around impressive biceps. The musculature of his stature was unfamiliar to her, but as her scrutiny stopped to rest on his face, she found his visage to be a very familiar one indeed.

Neteyam.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Author’s Note: Can you feel the romantic tension in the air? :P Teehee! We will see their full interaction in Chapter 2! Thanks for reading and leave me a line with your thoughts!

Chapter 2 - A Kiss Long Awaited

#atwow neteyam #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar neteyam #avatar twow #neteyam x oc #avatar james cameron #thewayofwater #avatar movie #atwow #neteyam sully smut #avatar smut #adult neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar #jake sully #neytiri #avatar 2 #vivid-ink works

[hookhausenschips]

Burning Rubber

Chapter One

F1 Masterlist

Burning Rubber Masterlist

Word Count: 2,467

Summary: Part of the Quadrant crew experiences the street life

Warnings: Drifting, Dangerous Acts, Lando and Max being worried Mothers, Street Racing

A/N: I will post a chapter every Wednesday so that way I can have time to brainstorm or if something comes up it will go up automatically, enjoy the first chapter 💚

next part

—————————-

Azha’s POV

Walking through the garage stopping once in awhile to take pictures with fans and sign their merchandise, I spot a group of people taking pictures of my car. More so two guys leaning against my car and having their pictures taken. Placing my keys back in my jacket, I walk up to the group. “She’s a beauty isn’t she?” I said, they all looked up shocked. “Oh my god you’re Azha Skye,” The girl spoke, I smiled and nodded. “You like the car?” I asked. They nodded, “The blue is gorgeous.” The tallest guy answered. “You were amazing today!” Another guy in the group praised. “Thank you, but if you don’t mind would you mind not leaning on her? The paint is custom.” I said. The two guys sheepishly looked at the group and stepped away. “Are you all fans of drifting? I questioned them, only a few nodded.

“We just brought the rest of our group for the video we’re shooting.” The girl spoke. “Video?” I ask. “Oh we’re a YouTube group called Quadrant.” She answered. “Oh nice. Can I get your names?” I ask. Maybe I will have to check out this channel. Hopefully their video will be good. “Yes of course. I’m Ria, this is Ethan, Niran, and Steve.” Ria said pointing at each member of the group. “Nice to meet you all. I hope the race was enjoyable for you all at least.” Before I could continue speaking my phone started ringing. I looked at my screen and seen it was Jelani. “Excuse me. Feel free to take more pictures, she won’t be moving for a bit.” “Wait this is your car?” Max asked. I nodded, “That she is.” I said before answering the FaceTime. “Hey J what’s up?” I said. “Are you going to be here tonight?” He asked. I nodded while watching the group take more pictures while frequently looking over at me. “Send me the location. Hey I’m going to be bringing some new people. I don’t think they race but they have a YouTube channel I guess? Think that’ll be cool.” “Shit say less, I’ll send you the location. Be here by 6.” He said. We both said our goodbyes and hung up.

Walking back to the group I take my keys out and unlock my car. “Hey what are your plans tonight?” I ask. They all look at each other, “We’re free for the most part, why?” Niran spoke. I smile before walking to the drivers side and sitting in the seat. “What’s your Instagram, I’ll text you the location. Just don’t share it with anyone except the lot of you please.” I say taking my phone back out. I handed my phone to Ria after opening my Instagram DM’s. She typed in her user and handed my phone back. “Great, I’ll see you all tonight. Just text me when you’re there and myself or one of my friend’s will come get you. Nice meeting you all by the way.” I say and they all nodded and stepped away from the car as I close the door and start her up. My phone dings and I see it’s the location of the meet tonight. I click on the link and click go on my gps before I wave to the group and reverse my car then leave the parking lot.

Later That Evening

Arriving at the meet we park next to each other lined up along the street. The race didn’t start until around 10:30. We had plenty of time to kill. Getting out of my car, people start walking up to our group and just talking or checking out or cars. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I unlock it to see that Ria had texted me that they were at the south end in a 24 hour parking lot. I smile, “Hey Nova, Sariyah do you mind going to get the newbies?” I ask and they nodded then walked off. I turn to Sterling and he hands me the money for the race and I walk off to find the guy in charge. Finding Edwin wasn’t that difficult considering he’s the only guy with a lifted truck here. “Well there’s my favorite syndicate.” He said while hopping down from the truck to hug me. “Hey Edwin, not racing again tonight I see.” I say as I hug him back. “Nah you know I can’t keep up with you youngins that much anymore.” I nodded, “So it’s 15k each right?” I asked. “Yeah, who all is involved.” He said while taking the money and counting. “Me.” I answered. “All right. I’m betting on you, make me proud kid.” He said and turned back to hop in his truck. I shook my head at the man and began my walk back to my car.

“Hey Zee, your newbies are here.” Sterling yelled as I walked towards them. I smile, “Hey thanks for coming. I hope they haven’t been giving you all a hard time while I’ve been away.” I spoke and hugged the group. “Oh none at all. I still can’t believe we get to see you guys in action.” Ria spoke. “You guys will stick with these three.” I say while pointing at Sariyah, Jelani, and Zamari. “They’ll keep you guys safe and take you where we’ll be racing.” “You’re not racing here?” Niran asked. I shook my head. “Nah this is just the car meet. We’ll head off around 10:30. You guys can walk around with one of us or watch the drifts. Just make sure you’re with one of us though and of course enjoy yourselves.” I say before i hear my name being called. I look up and see that Sariyah was getting into her hellcat, “Let’s get the drift party started.” She yelled. I look at Ria, “You want to come? You can sit in the back, you don’t have to hang out the windows like the rest of us if you’re not comfortable. We’ll keep you safe.” I ask the girl. She nodded, “Hell yes.” We walk over and I jump into the passenger as Ria gets in the back with Nova and some other girls. We pull into the center of the road and Sariyah starts to drift with another car and most of us are hanging out of each car. The adrenaline rush from the car’s engine, the people cheering, and playing with the fine line of death flows through.

After we were finished with the drift I took the small group around to look at the other cars. “So what is it you all do on YouTube?” I ask. “We do some gaming, vlogs, and challenges.” Niran answered. “Oh that’s nice. I will have to check it out and make the others watch as well. Is it just you four?” “Oh no there’s three more to our group. Lando, Max, and Aarav.” We continue talking about their channel when Ria’s phone starts ringing. “Oh it’s Lando.” She said, “Well answer the muppet.” Steve told her. She answered and I could hear a man yelling, “Where the fuck are you guys? I’ve been texting you and calling. So has Max.” Upon hearing this the lot took out their phones and seen their phones were indeed blown up. “They must’ve seen our stories.” Niran whispered. “Here, let me have a chat with him.” I asked Ria. She looked at me questioning and I kept my hand out. She handed me the phone. “Hi friend of Ria, I can assure you they’re safe. I can promise you they’re not being held hostage by some group of killers.” I spoke, finally taking a look at the man I could see he was attractive; tan skin, beautiful eyes, and some facial hair. “Who are you?” He questioned. “Just a friend. Shame you couldn’t come, I never miss the chance to show off for an attractive guy.” I flirted. His cheeks began to turn pink and he began to stutter. “Are you here in Sacramento? I could have Ria send you the location. Maybe that would quell your worry and curiosity on who I am.” I spoke. The group watched me trying not to laugh, “Could you give the phone back to Ria please.” He exasperated. I nodded and went to hand her phone back after saying goodbye. I couldn’t hear much of the conversation after except that the group would tell them everything when they got the Uber back to their hotel. My walkie talkie for the race went off, “Zenith, it’s almost time. Bring your friends and head back.” Jelani spoke. “Copy that, we’re on our way.” I answered. They had heard the transmission and began to follow me back to the team.

After we made it back down the block I told the group they could choose out of the three of us who weren’t raving to ride with and watch the race. Before pulling off I tell them, “Stick close to them, If police do happen to show up they’ll get you guys out of there.” They nodded then joined Jelani and Sariyah. Finally making it to the old empty highway two girls were spraying the start/finish line. Pulling up to the line I was on the far right end. Edwin was standing in the back of his truck off to the side, he pointed to each car. “Ready?” We each would rev our engines in response. After he reached the final car he lifted his arms and yelled, “Go!” We all took off. I was right behind this black hellcat with the others behind me a little ways away. We hit the first corner and the guy went almost too wide, I seen that gap and went to take it. I had passed him and shifted my car again. A couple more blocks to go.

End of Race

Fighting back and forth with the hellcat we were in the final stretch. I could see the lights from the cars parked on the side about two miles ahead. I looked to my side and seen the hellcat speed past me. “Too soon bud.” I said and shifted my car once again. Quarter of a mile left I hit my nitrous, flying past the hellcat and over the finish line. I shifted back down and parked my car, the crowd running towards my car cheering. “Now that is some fucking racing! But once again, Syndicate always wins.” Edwin had said handing me the cash prize. He hugged me and whispered, “Good job kid. See you tomorrow for shop.” I nodded and turned to my team and lifted my arms up grinning. They yelled and lifted me up in the air while the quadrant group joined in on the celebration as well. “Okay, okay put me down! Let’s get the hell out of here before it’s called in. They can ride with me, I’ll take them home.” I yelled over the crowd.

I led the group back to my car after the team said they’d follow. We all climb in and I unlocked my center console placing the money in before asking Ria where I’d be taking them. “We’re staying at the Hilton. I’ll tell the others to meet us outside.” She spoke. I nodded and let her choose the music since she was passenger. Halfway there I see Jelani start to drift on the road in front of us. Following his lead, the rest of us were drifting down the road back and forth. I noticed Ria recording and smiling. Afterwards her phone started ringing again. She ignored it and let the music continue to play. Ethan’s phone was ringing, he answered and I could hear a voice panicking on the other side. Ethan tried calming down the person. Then finally having enough he said,. “Max we are pulling up in a couple minutes, you guys can meet us outside.” Ethan spoke before hanging up. I shake my head, great friend do worry I definitely would know from experience.

I pull in to the drive of the hotel with my team right behind me. I see three guys standing out front, one being the one I spoke to on the phone. Their jaws dropped seeing our cars. Parking, Ria and the others hopped out of my car before I turned it off. I eventually got out after my team came to my window, we walked up towards the group. I look at the one named ‘Lando’ “See didn’t I tell you they would be safe? Not a scratch in sight.” I teased while smiling. They all looked at us and his eyes widened. “Guys, this is Nova, Sariyah, Jelani, Zamari, Sterling, and Azha is the one Lando spoke to.” Ria introduced us. “These three are Lando, Max, and Aarav.” Niran spoke. We shook hands. “So you guys are street racers or something like in Fast and Furious?” Max asked. I laughed,”Minus the criminal activity, yeah I guess you could say that.” Sariyah answered. “Azha is a drift racer. So technically she’s the only professional.” Nova added. I nodded, “Like I said, your friend’s were in great hands. What I said still stands though.” I winked at Lando. He blushed again and rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey we gotta go, the diner closes soon and I’m starving.” Zamari said. I told them to go ahead, I’ll meet them back at the parking lot.

I look back at the quadrant group, “Well I’m glad you four had fun, thanks for coming. Maybe you three can join next time. Or if a race comes by wherever you are shoot me a text and I’ll give you guys some passes.” I said. “No, thank you actually. I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep off this adrenaline.” Ria spoke grinning. The other three nodded. “I for one will take you up on that offer.” Aarav said. I smile, “Great. How long are you guys staying here in Sacramento?” I ask. “Until next Monday.” Niran spoke. “Okay well tomorrow I have to be in San Francisco for a race, if you guys would like to come just shoot me a text or any of the others and they’ll let me know. I’m not sure when the next meet is but we’ll probably be sticking around a while longer before heading back south.” I said. They all look at each other, “Yeah we’ll text you and let you know. Again thank you for tonight.” Steve said. I nodded, “Of course, have a great night guys.” I said and they said their goodbyes as I waved and headed back to my crew. After seeing them go inside the hotel, we headed off to the diner for some food.

#lando norris x black!reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #x black!fem!reader #x black!reader #x black fem reader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x oc #formula one x oc #formula 1 x you #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one #hookhausen’s chips #hookhausens chips #burning rubber

[unboundndd]

Omg finally someone who is willing to write for kayn 😭😭😭 I have been starved FOR AGES i'm telling you. For the past months or so all I've been thinking abt is how Kayn would develop a relationship with a reader who's from the kinkou (a whole enemies to lovers if you will). Just some general headcanons about the relationship tysm ❤️😭😭 can't wait to see more of your writing!

hELLO hello!! I swear uni has been keeping me from writing, i had no energy but i am a bit more free for now~ i’ve been starving for Kayn content too so let’s get started!!!

//tag: enemies to lovers, kayn has no idea what emotions are

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· If anybody were to ask Kayn what he thinks about you they would be met with silence. It’s normal for him as he isn’t too keen on talking about topics like this and he finds the question a bit obvious: you’re Kinkou, he’s not. You’re trying to bring back the balance that Ionia has lost back alongside Shen, which means you’re actively trying to stop him from reaching his goals and true potential.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· If only this was what he truly thought, in fact his feelings towards you are much more complex. It’s not a mere matter of blindly hating you because of the group you’re affiliated with, it has to do with the fact that you seem to periodically appear where he is and always try to obstacle him. Despite that he has never felt the instinct to kill you, as if his brain doesn’t completely think of you as an useless nuisance.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· The fact is that you challenge him and motivate him to get better, fighting against you doesn't trigger the same deeply engrained reflexes he'd have when killing any other Kinkou alcyote or Noxian soldier. Every encounter with you keeps him alert, reminds him of the high he gets when conquering something that isn't handed to him that easily and despite the two of you being on the opposing sides of such a difficult conflict you can't help but look for one another.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· Accepting that you might have a crush on the man you're supposed to hate is hard, more than any normal crush. Apart from wondering if you're misinterpreting his actions like when he spared you after one of your missions went wrong or the time he patched you up as you hid from Noxian soldiers who were passing by, you also needed to conceal your feelings. If Kayn was simply toying with you he could use the feelings you grew against you, maybe this was just a cold manipulation technique to encourage you to lower your guard or maybe he couldn't feel any love at all.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· That said you still were unable to stop staring at him during another one of your run-ins, you were both alone and your eyes would keep wandering to his lips that were perpetually graced by a confident smirk. You wanted to slap him, kiss him, anything to make him shut up and stop taunting you. It was getting to your head and soon enough you found yourself on the floor, pinned against him and with Rhaast's blade dangerously close to your neck.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· If Rhaast's eye wasn't creepily staring at you, then at kayn and then back to you it would have been better. Maybe even enjoyable as the weight of his entire body was crushing your hips and legs, his expression wasn't revealing anything of his intentions so you had no idea if he was going to let you go or if he was done with playing with you.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· The fact that Kayn suddenly kissed you was so far away from your possible predictions that you thought you were already dead and this was just your brain conjuring up a happy scenario to aid you in passing into the spirit realm. He wasn't exactly doing a great job, teeth clanking against yours and clumsily trying to understand what exactly he needed to do, only when you kissed him back with the same fervor did he start to finally understand what he needed to do.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· "This is what you wanted, didn't you? Get. Out! Out of my head. It's- You're the one who's been distracting me!"

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· You were starting to feel like maybe there was a chance your feelings were reciprocated, Kayn wasn't looking like his usual confident self once he finally had to part from your lips. He was confused and angry at the fact that in the end you managed to beat him by thanks to your wit and your personality.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· Ever since that day you and Kayn have been meeting in secret, ignoring the loyality you were both supposed to have for your respective factions. You never have as much time together as you wish and you spend your days either sparring or lazily laying in each other's arms, it mostly depends on how Kayn is feeling.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· You're quite amused when Kayn admits to you that he's never had any kind of relationship, don't tease him for it though, not if you want him to deprive you of all of the affection you crave for the sake of sweet revenge. He loves to hear you beg for him to just kiss you or when you ask for a hug, the fact that he's the only one who will ever see you like this makes him feel very proud of himself.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· You also find out that Rhaast has been the one guiding Kayn and telling him what people in a relationship do, he basically has a corrupted, cruel but extremely experienced wingman by his side.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· Sometimes you have to sneak in/out from each other's rooms when it's late at night and even though you've both been training hard to be stealthy it's still not perfect. Shen knows, and Zed does too and both have decided not to interfere for the time being. Who knows, perhaps something interesting will come out of your new relationship.

#lol x reader #kayn x reader #kayn lol

[chaoffee]

The sound of rain

Characters: Venti x gn reader Genre: Comfort Warnings: ooc perhaps , not proofread Word Count: 803 Notes: Man does it feel good to write for Venti again. I love my silly little bard skfifeiibfe this was supposed to simply be a comfort fic but than I started giggling and added some crack (is that the right word to use here?). Not sure if it feels flowy to read but hope y'all venti enjoyers enjoy •○─

You sat by the front door, listening to the rain fall with closed eyes. The sound of the rain and distant thunder helped quiet your mind. The chill keeping you grounded from getting lost in your thoughts again. Before you got here, sitting by the front door, listening to the rain, you were trying to fall asleep. However, your mind and anxiety had kept you awake with all the racing thoughts plaguing you like leeches that suck themselves onto someone. You needed to escape your thoughts and the only distraction you could think of was listening to the rain. Footsteps on wooden floor caught your ears, having you turn your head towards the person causing them. Your eyes meet those of aqua green. Venti gave you a smile, tilting his head to side, “I thought the wind was leading me somewhere, and here you are, with the wind whistling through the door.” The bard plopped himself next to you, closing his eyes to take in the scent of the rain wafting inside from the door.

You laughed softly, “Are you sure I’m what the wind led you to?”.

Venti grins, opening his eyes, winking, “The wind wouldn’t lead me astray, especially when it leads me to see your face.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling softly, “Smooth talker.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my love.” he says chuckling. “Although I must ask, what are you doing here of all places?” he gestures to the open front door.

A sigh leaves you, leaving you feeling heavy as you recall the reason you’re sitting here, listening to the rain. You close your eyes, laying your head against the hard doorframe. “My thoughts wouldn’t let me rest. So, I came here to listen to the rain in hopes to quiet them.”

Venti hums in understanding, “I see. Nature’s melodies do have some form of calming characteristic to them. But you’ll catch a cold sitting here without something warm to cover yourself with.”

Before you could even utter a reply to Venti had stood up and quickly disappeared deeper into the dark house. If you could guess, he probably went to go get you a jacket or a blanket. Maybe some snacks or water too. While waiting for him, you pondered on the things he could be bringing along with him.

A loud thump and a yelp startled you from your thoughts, seconds later Venti’s figure appears in the darkness, holding something. “What happened?” You asked worried. Venti plops himself next to you grinning sheepishly, the thing he was holding earlier appearing to be a blanket. “It appears I don’t know where some of the things in the house are.”

You stared at him for a few moments before laughter bubbled out of you. “Don’t laugh! It’s not funny!” Venti whines, pouting slightly. “You’re right,” you stifle your laughter, trying to look serious, “it’s not funny at all. You didn’t hurt the thing you walked into, right?”

Venti gapes at you, enabling your laughter once more, “Aren’t you supposed to ask me if I’m okay after walking into something?!”

“You seemed fine while walking over, I can’t see the thing you walked into, so I need to ask how the thing is doing.” you teased him.

“I’m sure the thing is fine, my knee isn’t. I’m going to have a bruise! And here you are asking me whether the thing I walked into is okay? I’m offended! I even brought you a blanket!” Venti dramatically complains. He folds his arms across his chest, pouting.

You snicker at his theatrics. “Quite the baby aren’t you, Venti?”

He gasps in offense, “How dare you call me such a thing?! Fine, I’ll just take this blanket I brought specially for you and go put it back.”

You chuckle, stopping him from standing up by taking his hand, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing you now. Thank you for bringing me the blanket. I appreciate it.”

You give him a genuine smile, and oh, how can he stay mad when you look at him like that. He shakes his head, a smile replacing the pout he had on his face. Taking the blanket from his lap, he motions for you to sit forward a bit. You comply, leaning forward, feeling the light weight of the blanket drape over one side of you. The other half of the blanket being occupied by Venti himself, who seemed to have decided he’ll be keeping you company. Not that you minded. His presence next to you was always welcomed with open arms by you.

The two of you snuggled together, with you placing your head on his shoulder, and his resting gently on top of yours. The two of you indulging in idle chatter until you inevitably fell asleep. Finally feeling at peace.

#chaoffee fics #astronetwrk #venti x reader #genshin x gn reader #venti x gn!reader #venti the bard #genshin x reader #genshin imagines

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Things We Can't Change

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Note: 👋

Please let me know what you think <3

🍯🍯🍯

You swirl the whisk around, wrist keeping a sharp and tenuous rotation as you hold the bowl steady. The rhythmic ting of the metal against the glass fills the kitchen and the silence of the large house. The place is static and surreal, just like the rest of your life. Ever since…

Don’t think. You won’t be alone tonight. Isn’t that something to look forward to? Is there anything left in this world you can be happy for? Maybe if you could feel anything but the flatline.

“My brother is not very happy,” Loki’s voice brings your head up as he strides coolly, “something about that little mouse and her attitude.”

“Oh…” you look back down, focusing on the batter’s consistency. Almost there. The burning in your tendons is almost enjoyable. To feel anything but dread. “Are they not coming then?”

“I never said that, darling,” Loki stops at the end of the marble island and rests his hand atop it

“Good, good,” you utter, “wouldn’t want this to go to waste.”

“Please, it will. No doubt my brother will leave crumbs littered across the floor like the animal he is.”

You look at him again and give a tight-lipped smile. He does this, makes you and offer but makes it feel like a favour asked. Was it not his suggestion to have Muffing come keep you company? Because he said it would cheer you up. That it would help you forget.

How could you forget what he did? You narrow your eyes and stare at him. Your wrist moves out of instinct and a loud clink keeps you from a full-blown glare. You look down. Fuck.

“Gosh,” you stop and drop the whisk to lean against the brim, “looks like I ruined them myself.” 

You sniff and turn away. You go to the other counter and pull close the tray of eggs. Start over. That’s the good part about baking, you can always try again. 

You separate the yolk into one bowl and the whites another. You flinch and break through the yellow with the shell as Loki snakes his arms around you from behind. You cringe as your whites are stained with the viscous slime. You suppress your disappointment and lower the shell as he nuzzles your neck.

“It is rather amusing to think of how you midgardians can find such joy in menial tasks,” he purrs, “on Asgard, we have servants who bake our bread.”

“Mmm,” you stiffen and rest your hand on the counter. “You must miss it.”

“I do, though Asgard never missed me,” he sways you with him, “we have some time… they are still upon the road…”

His hands slip down your sides and frame your hips. He pulls you against him, pressing his twitching crotch flush to your ass. You curl your fingers and swallow a shudder.

“I’ve egg on my hands,” you sidle free of him and grab a dishcloth, “and I promised Muffin strawberry meringues the next time she was in town.”

“Do you even know if she heard you? The creature seems rather oblivious.”

“She’s not stupid,” you argue but keep your tone from piquing, “she’s quiet, that’s all.”

“To think, my brother would make that his wife,” he approaches you again, penning you in before the sink, “none are so fortunate as me, are they?” He looms closely, leaning in until his nose brushes your forehead, “when I heard of those buffoons and their missing women… not me and my darling.” He touches the emerald at your throat, “I shall always keep her close.”

“My prince,” you murmur, “I wouldn’t…”

“I know you wouldn’t, darling, you are a prince’s wife now. You know your duties. You’ve proven to me that you could never let me down, yes?”

“Yes, my prince,” you reply. 

You hold back a tide of rage. You never would have said yes if you knew what it meant. If you knew what he would do. It wasn’t a fair trade. He is worth none of it but he is all you have left. Besides, he will never let you go and that fact sounds a lot more romantic than it truly is.

“My princess,” his hand crawls down your skirt, slowly tugging it up your thigh as he rubs his nose against yours, “the only promise I care for is that which you made to me.”

#loki #dark loki #loki x darling #dark!loki #loki x reader #au #series #dark!fic #drabble #drabble series #sweet treats #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers

[you-can-be-what-you-want-to-be]

Making a post bc I am still every other week or so seeing posts from new fans talking about how John/Arthur better be canon bc they’ll be mad otherwise or asking if it is or SAYING it is and I need other people to spread this around and actually listen to me.

Harlan has said they won’t end up romantically together. No look at me. Canonically they won’t. He loves the fics and stuff and finds it enjoyable, but they aren’t going to be canon.

That means that you have GOT to stop trying to get new fans in by saying how gay it is. That might work in 2010 when bury your gays was the most you could ask for but there’s actual rep now, if you tell someone something is gay they’re going to be expecting to SEE it at some point.

You are putting Harlan, who makes the entire show by himself and does not have anything vetted, does not have a pr team, and is active in the fandom, in danger. People are already calling it queerbait and gaslighting. You are disappointing and pissing off people who want to see venom/Eddie and aren’t going to get it.

Saying you love someone and showing them life experiences they haven’t had isn’t inherently romantic, especially if one of you is new to the being human thing, it’s the 1930s so the entire masculinity romance landscape is entirely different, and you share a body and couldn’t leave if you wanted. It’s not homophobic to manage expectations.

Queerbaiting is when a show is promised to be queer to bring in the queer audience and then they don’t. He’s specifically said it isn’t. YOU are queerbaiting people. I can not continue to every other week see an excited fresh faced person say they got into the show bc they heard it’s a queer podcast or has gay rep when it’s blatantly untrue. I can’t see more see it’s canon friends would never do this together. It’s fun to play with and I love it, it’s a fun ship, but you have to stop telling people it’s real and the only option.

#malevolent podcast