#(sometimes three in the span of one or two seconds

[ctrl-lupin]

Two men stuffed into a clown car

[marigoldenblooms]

That's a Wrap - One Shot

Pairing: Director!Natasha x Fem!Actor!Reader x Actor!Wanda (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Summary: You and Wanda can’t seem to get this scene right. With your director’s help, you manage.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Is Y/N in the room with us right now (They aren’t), Dom!Natasha, Switch!Wanda, Bottom!Reader. Dub-con, power dynamic (Director/Actor), voyeurism, degradation, praise, semi-public sex, semi-orgasm denial, light edging, objectification, oral (W receiving), fingering (R receiving), strap-on use(R receiving), some pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling, ma’am, Tasha(For N), Wan/Wands(For W), Mommy(For W, used loosely)), Nat calls her strap her dick, semi-previous established relationship? Porn with plot, clothed sex, sextape, light aftercare, fluff at the end. 

A/N: Welcome to the first issue of Smut Saturdays! Want to really create some good shit in this genre, so I'm posting at least one spicy fic every Saturday (if I can help it)! This came to me in a vision (called the five minutes before my math class)- After my last smut fic did well (An Important Lesson, Prof!Wanda x Reader, which you can read here), I thought I’d do some WandaNat practice! Not proofread, written in the span of an evening. This is a crime against intimacy coordinators, I’m so sorry. Asides over. Natasha wears a strap to her films and she can dick me down with it, please and thank you!

Word Count: 2.4k - Read Length: 8 minutes, 49 seconds.

~~~

It was never fun when the producers came by. 

They’d always arrive in droves of two or three, never the top dog- as if Natasha’s ‘avant-garde chick flick’, as they called it, wasn’t worth their time. They certainly treated it as much. Today was the worst day for them to arrive, in pressed jackets and always on a phone call, because today you were filming the sex scene. It was more of a ‘romance’ scene, with alluring cinematography and enough passion to make your eyes fall out, yet you hadn’t even gotten to remove any clothes from your beautiful costar- Wanda. You knew she was incredible, her previous films as a fem fatale showing her dominant streak, however the spark couldn’t burn when interruptions from the suits kept happening. You weren’t on a porn set, and yet sometimes you wish you were. Might’ve been faster, or at least more fun. 

“From the top,” A groveled voice muttered, Natasha’s steely gaze breaking into your skull-  though a part of you wished she’d break your back. The redhead had always been an inspiration, one of the leading reasons for your participation in her project, besides her being so fine. But now, she looked pissed, worn down by hours of appeasing the producer’s half-baked suggestions and guarding you and Wanda from their prying eyes. “Yes Ma’am,” you replied, earning a slight chuckle from your director, the twinkle in her eye not lost on you- she was on her last legs, but it was yours and Wanda’s compliance that kept her going.

You’d return to your blocking, centered in the middle of your ‘apartment bedroom’, with Wanda’s hand placed gently on your waist. Your roles were lovers, reuniting after a long day of hardship, slowing down after it all. You’d stare up at her, the mild exasperation in your expression making her smile. She’d send a wink down to you, muttering something about being ‘bored too’, but ‘not hating kissing you again’, or the like. She’d invited you out to coffee tonight, and especially after a day like this, you’d take it. Perhaps you’d even forget the paparazzi and really kiss her as you’d been wanting to do this whole shoot. Throw a bone to the fanfiction writers and make their canon comply with reality. Maybe. It was Natasha’s words which startled you from your thoughts, a look of tenderness overcoming your face as you’d sink into your character, “Action!” 

Within an instant, Wanda hiked her hands under the hem of your shirt, eyes darting down to your face. Her palms were warm against you, smooth against your soft skin, as your head rested gently on her shoulder. She’d tug at the fabric- and you’d send her a quick nod, smiling as you’d lean up to capture her lips in yours-

 “Well that’s not very marketable!” A producer would crow, scoffing with both his hands outstretched towards the two of you. You’d freeze, feeling all of the passion drain out from the scene, no more than a shell of itself. His bald head wasn’t very marketable, looking like a morally dubious Mr. Clean- and yet you didn’t comment on it. He’d look at Natasha, the woman pinching the bridge of her nose with a stern sigh, and you gulped. Oh, shit. She was going to lose it. “Can’t you get their clothes off faster? Our focus groups won’t wait around for-”

“Fucking Christ, get- out!” Natasha shouted, a growl in her tone bringing heat to your face. She scowled, roaring to the surrounding suits, “Leave, get off my set- it’s my fucking turn to direct them.” Her hands would fan away their deer-in-headlights looks, ushering them out before locking the door. Her fiery gaze would bore into you then, jaw locked as her heels would click towards you and Wanda, many feet apart. 

The two shared a knowing nod- And before you could speak, your director grabbed Wanda by her shirt collar and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Your jaw would drop as the brunette’s eyes widened, fluttering shut as Wanda moaned into the embrace- Natasha’s hands planted firmly on her tits. She’d squeeze them, earning a gasp from Wanda, your costar’s head swung back as Natasha swiped her thumbs across her nipples. Your director’s gaze would strike yours, and you understood why Wanda’s submission was so quick. You shuddered at the redhead’s gleaming smirk, her voice a husked whisper, “Get those clothes off and get on the bed for me, baby. Now.” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Your reply was instant, Natasha’s grin only widening as you’d shed your layers, kneeling on the mattress’s soft sheets. They were cold, goosebumps settling up your spine yet you wouldn’t move, eyes trained obediently on Natasha. You were so perfect for her. 

Natasha’s mouth would return to Wanda’s, pressing her into the faux wall that had outlined the bedroom. Her hand would splay against Wanda’s stomach, and you saw how she hiked up the shirt there, continuing to palm her tits while unclasping Wanda’s bra with the other. She’d pepper kisses across the brunette’s neck, sucking hickeys the lower she’d go. 

They’d part only so Wanda’s top could come completely off, your director keeping a claiming touch on Wanda’s hip as she’d look back at you over her shoulder. Her hair was wild, mused from Wanda’s hands slung loosely around her shoulders while her expression remained flushed, dark eyes darting down to the slick that pooled between your legs. Wanda’s voice would ring to you, almost reverent as her hips would stutter against Natasha’s, “She’s fucking drooling for us, Tasha..” 

The redhead would bite back a smirk as she’d watch you twitch. You ached to touch them, yourself, anything- your hands already balled into fists on your thighs, legs rubbing together, desperate for friction. But neither had given the command, and you had an inkling from their hungry looks that they wanted you needy, right where they had you. Natasha’s rasp came second, “Then show her what I taught you.”

Wanda would reach you first, discarding the rest of her clothes in the process. Her hands trailed warm touches up your legs and to your chest, digging into your soft flesh as her lips would meet yours. It was explosive, sweet and tender yet with a ferocity that claimed you quickly, heating up your skin as her knee would slot between your thighs. You’d feel Natasha’s calloused fingers on the small of your back, the sinking of her weight in the mattress behind you, and her tone husked in your ear, “Stretch her out for me, Wan- like we practiced.” Your director’s words sent a buzz to your core, cunt grinding mercilessly into the sheets below as Wanda’s hand would trail there, dragging two fingers along your folds before arcing dazzling circles around your clit. 

You’d eagerly press your hips into her touch, moaning lowly as she’d chuckle, “So wet for me, sweetheart…bet I can just slip right in.” She’d coax her fingers inside, your pussy walls taking her gladly as Wanda curled her digits against that spongy spot. Your back would arch, head growing fuzzy as you’d feel your slick drip down her hand. Her thumb would press into your clit as you’d buck your hips against her, cursing a quick “Fuck-” which was quickly swallowed up by Wanda’s mouth. She’d bite your lip, dragging it with her teeth as she’d settle into her rhythm, spare hand palming your tits with a rougher grasp, “Been waiting for this, haven’t you sweetheart- pretty whore, just for us.”

 “Mhm, good girl just wants to be fucked, don’t you?” Natasha would grit, and you could see her stroking something behind your back. She’d unzipped her slacks- her strap heavy in her hand, glistening with the spit she’d gathered in her palm. Natasha bucked her hips against her hold, cursing as the cock’s base would rub against her clit. She looked incredible, sweat across her brow as her hand would clench around the toy, like she could feel it. “Keep going, Wands- want her perfect for my dick.”

 Natasha would pant, breathing ragged as her hand moved in time with Wanda’s fingers- curling into you almost torturously, feeling your cunt clench around her. The brunette’s kiss would claim you again, moaning into her warmth as her thumb would circle your clit. She’d sigh almost lovingly, fondness overtaking her expression as your head found the crook of her neck, “She’s already perfect, Tasha-” She’d coo, although her hand wouldn’t stop, gasping at the squelching sound of her fingers up your cunt, “This pussy was made for us, darling.” 

Their words and touch brought you so close, yet Wanda’s hands slowed down when she felt your legs quiver or your breathing seize up, never giving you what you needed. You’d squirm against Wanda, begging for more, a lingering touch, anything-  “Please, Wan- I‘m so close,” You whined, earning a tut from your costar. She’d devour your pleas, lost to time as her mouth would reach yours, softer than before. You felt her sympathetic smile against you as she’d shake her head, locking eyes with Natasha’s heavy stare, “Not yet, sweetheart..It’s not my turn anymore.”

The redhead groaned when Wanda slid her fingers out of you, her fingers shimmering with your arousal. Your walls fluttered around nothing, aching for anyone’s touch as you felt Natasha’s rugged grasp on your hips, pulling you up and back so your pelvis was against hers. The strap had warmed in her hand, dragging between your legs. You were dripping for her, soft sparks of pleasure seizing you as her tip would brush against your clit. Her voice would thunder through you, almost delirious with her own need, “Fucking finally..want this pussy all to myself…” 

Wanda would chuckle at that, your director kneading at your hips as Wanda’s thighs settled in front of your mouth, your arms propping yourself just above her soaked cunt. “We promised to share, Tasha..” She’d croon, face flushed and touch softer than Natasha’s as she’d cradle your face in her palms, “Such a pretty girl..are you ready for your reward, darling?” You nodded, a flurry of sensation hitting you all at once- Natasha’s strap sinking into you as the redhead would push your shoulder blades down, pressing your face between Wanda’s legs. 

The stretch was incredible, the woman behind you vicious as she’d drive her dick into you, bottoming out as your mouth would be smothered against Wanda’s cunt. Each thrust would drive Wanda crazy, your gasps and whimpers vibrating right into her core, especially as you’d flat your tongue against her clit, suckling on the sensitive nub. Her thighs would threaten to shut on you, her stretched words lost in your pussydrunk haze, “Yes, like that sweetheart- such a good girl..-” Natasha would rock her hips into yours, pace bruising as she’d pull your thighs flush to hers. You’d hear her muffled curses as she’d bottom out again, sighing as if she could feel you clench around her. “Baby..fuck, so perfect for us…” Wanda’s hands would thread into your hair, anchoring her hold on you as she’d press your face further into her cunt. 

The sight would echo a curse from Natasha’s mouth, her hips growing a little more erratic, “Fucking christ, she’s our perfect little whore, aren’t you baby-” You’d try to nod, moaning as Natasha’s hand would press further into your back, keeping you from moving an inch, “Don’t even think, baby- just fucking take it, fuck-” 

Time would seem to slow, your brain fuzzing into blissful static as you’d feel Wanda’s thighs tremor around your head, her grip tightening as she’d see your body tremble in Natasha’s touch. “Come with me, sweetheart- be a good girl and come for Mommy.” Her saccharine words spurred you into a blinding release, your tongue working Wanda through her orgasm as your body quaked with your own. You’d feel Natasha follow shortly thereafter, cursing aloud as she’d pull herself out of you, watching as you’d clench around nothing. Her hands would immediately find your waist, bringing you gently up to kneel with your back against her clothed front. 

Panting, your arms would shake as you’d catch your breath, leaning up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You could feel both women’s eyes on you as you’d suckle on your fingers, cleaning up with an exaggerated moan, looking towards Wanda as you’d pop your hand out of your mouth, your words almost dreamy, “Mmm, so good, Wan..” You’d giggle as Wanda’s face would alight in blush, although the clink of metal and fabric drove you away from your teasing.

Natasha’s hands would be rushed as she’d pull her pants and harness down, eyes heavy with a lust that made you shudder, “Switch with me, Wands-” She’d grit, thrusting the strap in her general direction before settling calloused palms on your still quivering thighs, her gaze boring into yours, “It’s my turn for her mouth.” 

Wanda’s smirk was immediate, sending you another sly wink, “Gladly.” 

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

Unbeknownst to the three of you, the cameras had never stopped rolling. That film would never be seen by the public, kept hidden once you left the building. Not to say it couldn't be enjoyed by you three, though.

Natasha and Wanda took you out to coffee afterwards as the brunette had promised. They explained their prior agreement to ‘test the waters’ with you, Wanda working with Natasha on a plan to woo you both in and out of character. The date went well, although with much less lingering glances and more almost-fucking in the back of Wanda’s car afterwards. It was there that the public and paparazzi learned of your relationship, although their camera flash thankfully stopped any romance before it got good. You weren’t on a porn set, after all- and Wanda kept your half-nude form hidden while Natasha cursed out the press. All in a day’s work. 

Unfortunately, the day’s work began anew the next day. Filming the romance scene was no difficult measure now, but Natasha’s grin and Wanda’s wandering hands blurred the lines of professionalism. The film crew couldn’t care less, a few of them- such as Kate, a script supervisor- mentioned how they knew it would happen eventually (and won a bet with Peter, who said it’d take until the award show for you three to get together). 

However, once you three escaped into Natasha’s office for some ‘paperwork’ as she’d called it, it didn’t matter. They were yours, and that was enough.  ~~~

[doudouma]

Heyo! I'd like to request a top three upper moon x s/o! Reader who is kind of mad at them and refuses to cuddle them (but ends up the one cuddling when they thought that they fell asleep- which they didn't.)

“wait, i thought you were sleeping?!”

upper3 reaction to you cuddling them but you’re angry! _______________________________________________

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

you’re upset at the upper moon trio (separate), but you cuddle them when you thought they fell asleep〜

there are no warnings, my dear lotus.

↑ (reader spooning character, if you’re worried about that.)

reader is gender neutral.❀ 〜

a/n : for some reason, i couldn’t comprehend this request. after all, it was late at night〜apologies my lotus, this request is cute！

！anon, i want to apologize to you. right when i finished writing, i reread the request and realized i slightly misunderstood it, and i do not know how to fix it. i decided to post it anyways. m(_ _)m

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

kokushibo

kokushibo.. your straight-forward silent lover…

he knows why you could potentially be upset, but doesn’t see the purpose of being upset about it.

you were upset at something that happened earlier, and tried to ask for a solution from your beloved〜

he gave you your answer, alright.. but he worded it in a way that might’ve made it seem like it was your fault on what happened.

he didn’t try to! he just tried to get you to realize where exactly it went wrong.

now… he’s just waiting in anticipation for your response.

but instead, you just sit there just trying to pinpoint what his goal in mind was. looking a more upset than before.

forgetting it all, you end up heading to bed, attempting to just relax.

drifting off to sleep (if you’re able to sleep), you suddenly remember that your lover didn’t join you to bed. will a small disagreement split the two of you up into separate rooms tonight?

your eyes quickly widen and see that kokushibo is there, but with his back facing you.

when did he even get in here?! it looks like he’s been here for a minute too. sneaky uppermoon one…

now that you’re relieved, you move closer to him, and place your arm around him to his heart♡

he slightly smiles, only smiles. eventually he tells you as he rest his eyes..

“i apologize for the way i initially communicated with you. we may talk this out tomorrow, with less misunderstandings, (name).”

douma

douma wouldn’t understand why you’re mad at him!

teasing is just his nature! no matter how harsh it is, to him, he’s only speaking out of love.

which he is, but.. he doesn’t consider that other people could find it offensive or annoying.

he’ll listen when you voice your opinion on his absurd way of showing love, but, it’ll only result in more teasing〜

eventually, you get too fed up with his cockiness and foul teasing to the point where you just go to bed! without him!

even while upset at your love, you do fairly want him by your side, even if he is being a little s- -

- -so like i said, he wouldn’t fully understand on why you’re upset, so he’s not giving you any personal space.

therefore, he ends up joining you in bed〜

in bed where it feels like forever, with the both of you facing opposite ways.

you silently look over, and to what it seems like he’s “sleeping”.

soon enough you flip over and spoon him, while a smirk appears on doumas face, as he places his hand on top of yours♡

somehow in a span of three seconds, now he’s spooning you, hugging you while saying,

“oh, my love! i knew you couldn’t stay mad at me for too long〜 oh how much i’ve missed you♡”

akaza

akaza is aware of where this all went wrong, but in his brain (if demons have one atp) he just tried to help.

today was just not the day for you.

maybe someone was being annoying, you lost a fight, woke up on the wrong side of the bed, who knows.

whatever happened, akaza was determined to fix it, because he only wants his lover to be happy!

but… you just wanted to be alone. sometimes alone time is all you need〜

but akaza kept bringing you things you like, kept staying near you, and kept asking if everything was alright♡

you accepted his kindness and offers, but you genuinely just wanted to be alone to recharge, but your lover being persistent as he is only made you feel more annoyed.

you expressed that, but he just kept following you like a lost puppy!

in due time, you end up vaguely telling off akaza for “pestering” you and how you just had a awful day.

he stands there, with a blanket and pillow in his hand, not saying a word as you walk off to bed… and he follows you.

he tucks both of you to bed, and you both lay there facing opposite ways.

you lay there, thinking over your day. you shortly realize that akaza was there for you even at your lowest, but you didn’t see it because you were already upset.

you turn around, and swiftly spoon the “sleeping” akaza, holding his hand〜

he lets out a little chuckle and caresses your hand to tell you,

“i’m sorry for ruining your day even further. but i’m glad to be here for you now. sometimes just a hug is all you need, my love.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

besides me accidentally messing this up, the request was fun to write! i’m trying to dive into other fandoms and post more often. i look forward into having your support, my precious flowers.❀ 〜

[stupidphototricks]

Death as Bill Door, getting a life.

"Are you decent, Bill Door?" said Miss Flitworth's voice in the darkness. Bill Door analyzed the sentence for meaning within context. YES? he ventured. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Bill Door was no good at reading faces. It was a skill he'd never needed. He stared at Miss Flitworth's frozen, worried, pleading smile like a baboon looking for meaning in the Rosetta Stone. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Was that what it was really like to be alive? The feeling of darkness dragging you forward? How could they live with it? And yet they did, and even seemed to find enjoyment in it, when surely the only sensible course would be to despair. Amazing. To feel you were a tiny living thing, sandwiched between two cliffs of darkness. How could they stand to be alive? -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

The child stared distantly at the landscape for a while and then said, "I've got new socks." YES? "You can look, if you like." A grubby foot was extended for inspection. WELL, WELL. FANCY THAT. NEW SOCKS. "My mum knitted them out of sheep." MY WORD. The horizon was given another inspection. "D'you know," she said, "d'you know... it's Friday." YES. "I found a spoon." Bill Door found that he was waiting expectantly. He was not familiar with people who had an attention span of less than three seconds. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Death knew that to tinker with the fate of one individual could destroy the whole world. He knew this. The knowledge was built into him. To Bill Door, he realized, it was so much horse elbows. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

SOMETIMES PEOPLE CHALLENGE ME TO A GAME. FOR THEIR LIVES, YOU KNOW. "Do they ever win?" NO. LAST YEAR SOMEONE GOT THREE STREETS AND ALL THE UTILITIES. "What? What sort of game is that?" I DON"T RECALL. "EXCLUSION POSSESSION," I THINK. I WAS THE BOOT. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Bill Door felt very old. In fact he was very old. But he'd never felt it as much as this. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

"What the hell have you been doing, Mr. So-Called Bill Door?" I AM TIRED AND IT WON'T STOP. Bill Door clutched at his skull. ALSO SPIGOT GAVE ME A HUMOROUS APPLE JUICE FERMENTED DRINK BECAUSE OF THE HEAT AND NOW I FEEL ILL. "I ain't surprised. He makes it up in the woods. Apples isn't the half of it." I HAVE NEVER FELT ILL BEFORE. OR TIRED. "It's all part of being alive." HOW DO HUMANS STAND IT? "Well, fermented apple juice can help." -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

JUST BECAUSE SOMETHING IS A METAPHOR DOESN'T MEAN IT CAN'T BE REAL. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

I'VE NEVER BEEN VERY SURE ABOUT WHAT IS RIGHT, said Bill Door. I AM NOT SURE THERE IS SUCH A THING AS RIGHT. OR WRONG. JUST PLACES TO STAND. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

IF PEOPLE KNEW WHEN THEY WERE GOING TO DIE, I THINK THEY PROBABLY WOULDN'T LIVE AT ALL. "Oh, very gnomic. And what do you know about it, Bill Door?" EVERYTHING. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

"Have you got any last words?" YES. I DON'T WANT TO GO. "Well. Succinct, anyway." -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

(Now I'm honestly wondering if Russell T. Davies read Terry Pratchett??)

[anaconamor]

hey love! could you write a blurb about jude being mad at you and not talking to you and you make it up to him and he knows he cant stay mad so he forgives you and you cry and hes all like "dont cry bby" something super fluffy

hi hi hi!! here you go lovely! 🤍 i think i would cry the minute he starts ignoring me… 😟💔

| masterlist | jude's masterlist

you rolled your eyes and walked away from jude who scrolled through his phone quietly and undisturbed. he had been ignoring you since last night when you had accidentally forgotten to remind him you had plans. they were made super quick so he was left dumb founded when you were out and instead at home with him.

you texted him prior before you left and you guess he had not read that. jude was being cold, ignoring your hugs or attempts of kisses. last night when you got home all he could do was turn and face the door and didn't even utter a good night. you tried to make his favorite cookies but he looked at them and went to training. he hadn't said a word since the day before.

jude was chatty, sometimes you would lose focus on what he was saying because he went from one story to another in a span of seconds. it began to irritate you when he wasn't speaking, not answering texts, calls, and even questions you asked. he simply felt like a stranger.

you got up early to make him breakfast, even a small snack so he could have it after training. filled his training bag with clean clothes and his extra pair of boots, and his water bottle. he didn't even thank you, walking away and into the taxi to the training center.

it bothered you the entire day how distant and immature he was being. jude was the type to check in, so glancing at your phone every minute that passed also didn't help. he should be able to talk it out instead of acting like a jerk. you cursed at him silently in your head, pinching the bridge of your nose before returning back to your tasks.

on the way back home, you picked up his favorite meal from the grocery store, getting all his favorite snacks and drinks he would eat around the house. you got a deck of cards and a new board game to try out. you wanted to make it up to him, any way possible.

jude continued to ignore you throughout the evening, making you start feel uneasy and guilty for a small mistake you committed. part of you also still felt angry because he would even bother to answer anything or the fact he was in his own world making you feel like an outcast. your eyes burned with tears as you heard him walk upstairs, choking back a sob as all you wanted was to be held by him.

jude upstairs was also beginning to feel he dragged it out to much. a feeling in his chest when he remembered how defeated you looked as he came up to your bedroom. he wanted you to feel like he felt yesterday, but he could see it wasn’t the same for you. jude had to resist the urge to tell you about his day, the thank you’s for making him food and cookies, for going above and beyond all day so he could lay attention to you.

a plastic wrapping caught jude’s eyesight after an hour passed. you still hadn’t come up and he was afraid you wouldn’t because of how he acted. he was overreacting he knew it, but also he felt disappointed and upset at the fact you clearly forgot to tell him about your plans till last minute.

“what the?” jude asked himself as he approached the wrapping. he uncovered it being faced with a cartoon drawing similar to those they did at fair of the two of you. next to it was a small minion holding a small box of box of hershey kisses and a hand written note by you.

ilysm my little minion (jude) 🖤

- y/n 💋

he laughed feeling the guilt in his chest as he stared at the three pieces you got him yesterday while you were out. you always thought of him, like jude always thought about you. he grabbed the three items and headed downstairs where he saw you watching a movie, covered with a knitted blanket and laying on your side.

you yawned slowly drifting in and out of sleep, your body feeling as it sinked into the couch and would never come back up. you listened to jude as he paced around, your heart racing when he began approaching you. you continued to stare out into the tv, tears brimming your eyes again as you felt the need to apologize.

jude sat by your legs, looking directly at you not being able to hold it in any longer, “y/n? don’t cry baby…” jude said gently grabbing your arm and helping you pull yourself up into his arms. you let out struggles of scattered breaths and sobs, holding him tightly against your front and on his lap.

jude ran his hand on your back, soothing your choked sobs and whines. “i’m sorry y/n, i was being immature and a jerk when you didn’t deserve it. you made a mistake and i had no right to push and ignore you like i did,” jude apologized first pulling you back so he could wipe away the tears.

“part of me was hurt because i wanted to spend time you and you weren’t here. and you had advised me last minute you were going out. you always tell me a day, a week even a month in advance when you go out, i don’t know why i thought negative thoughts…” jude continued, kiss your hand and rubbing your cheek in comfort.

he watched you finally relax into his embrace, eyes closed and wet due to the tears, lips slightly plump and swollen from crying. “i saw your gift,” jude says happily, watching your glossy eyes lift up as you gave him a small smile. “where should we hang it up?”

“anywhere you want,” you say shrugging still trying to wrap your head if he actually stopped ignoring you. “y/n? you know i love you so much too right? i didn’t ever mean to make you cry, princess…” jude frowned pulling you down to him once again.

“but you did jude. i was so scared and nervous you wouldn’t talk to me because of that! you didn’t say goodbye nor a thanks, i called and you wouldn’t answer, texts straight to read! i was worried sick you wouldnt check in at all!”

jude heard you muffled out, feeling you hold him like you wanted and craved last night. jude peppered kisses onto your collarbone, “forgive me baby. i won’t ever do that again,” jude say between kisses. “ever ever ever again jude… we talk it out that’s how’s things work, okay jude?”

“and i’m sorry too. my head went to a different mind place and idk why i told you last minute when i had know the day before. i’ve been busy with the upcoming charity project it went through my head,” you apologized as well, holding his face between your hands as you placed small kisses on his cheeks, nose and temple. anywhere you had access to, feeling him smile and tug you closer to him.

“and i love you.”

“i know baby, i know. i also saw it on the note next to the minion holding the chocolates,” jude laughed making you giggle loud. “he kinda looked like you,” you joked hearing a small gasp come from jude’s mouth. “take it back!” jude says putting your against the couch and tickling your sides and neck. “never!”

“okay okay i take it back,” you say out of breath after laugh uncontrollably. jude and you never fought or argued, so holding him like this after not being able to felt like a reward. your leaned up and kissed him, sighed in delight as you felt the familiar plump lips with yours. “do i actually look like a minion,” jude said nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“yes yes you do…”

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk---

-to me.

p4 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Y/N unknowingly crosses a line, making it impossible for Lando to continue their little affair.

warnings: cursing, typos

Sometimes, the world of F1 really required one to grow up fast. Y/N had noticed strange looks from few of the team members during meetings and sessions for the whole week. She tried not to give it much thought - that was until her manager called, on a late Wednesday evening and broke the news. There were serious talks of her being replaced by someone, who used to drive for her team before and wanted back. She, as an average rookie, couldn't stand a chance and couldn't possibly play the "female driver" card (which she hated anyway). The phone call with her manager was a hard one, nothing seemed to be confirmed, but her pro active guardian angel worked on having enough close friendships around the team to know the news before it got to be known around the paddock. Her heart was racing for life, hand shaking, mind running wild. This couldn't be happening. They can't just drop her out of nowhere, she tried to convince herself.

She lived in this uncertainty for three days, constantly in contact with her own team, focusing on not failing at her job, completely ignoring any texts or calls from people outside her comfort zone. Yet, she didn't hesitate to schedule a hook up with Lando. A break though came when her manager called, informing her that she currently in negotiations with another f1 team for potential transfer, she called it a "just in case" back up, but sounded a little too excited for it being a back up team. Even when Y/N begged to know what team that was, her manager did not cave in, saying it was just too early stages.

//

What a perfect waste of time. Every evening in her busy life was a calculation, a plan to keep or alone time prescribed by herself. Tonight they were suppose to meet up with Lando, in the morning they'd texted about it, he even cracked a joke and appeared to be in a generally easy going mode. But 8pm rolled in and no text, call or even a doorbell. After a half an hour of pacing around and pretending to be busy, she found herself in a completely clean kitchen, finished emails and painted nails. Lando was rarely ever late without a note beforehand. She was not going to text him. That would be too needy. Few episodes of some sitcom, which she had to rewind several times as her attention span lasted about two minutes. Minutes rolled in like a cruel indicator of how much she took as a given that they'd see each other. How much it wasn't on the table that he would ditch her. At some point, she had to come to terms with it. But nobody was there to force to admit that she felt a strange hollow feeling in her stomach. She pushed all thoughts into the back of her head and focused on her next racing plan. That's what she was suppose to be anyway. She might face being replaced out of nowhere, she had to be at her best game. Only when she lost the option of the only distraction that seemed to work in the form of Lando's smirk, she realized how much tension she held within her. It wasn't a night filled with much sleep for her. The late night loneliness crept in, loveless mornings had pilled up over time into a tower blocking the sunshine in. She sat on her bed, second guessing every choice she ever made - was the racing even worth it all? She could have been married by now? What a strange concept. Was she ever going to do so? In a man's world, was there an option to find a lover who would not challenge her and only induce her anxiety? She circled back to her first and only love and wasn't even sure if she had the privilege to call it that as the memory of the slacker guy from her hometown literally slept through their break up. Often she'd watch her colleagues hop on the first plane to spend as much time as this lifestyle allowed with a loved one. She had yet to find out what that kind of a flight felt like.

A whole week had passed since that night. They saw each other on numerous occasions and both of them avoided each other's looks, as if they would turn to stone if their eyes had met. It was good for their public image.

Y/N was excited when her manager finally met up with her in person to tell her about a potential team transfer, should the silly season kick in hard. "I'm not saying anything is set in stone. There have just been few meetings, lawyers checked up your contract again for potential breach causes, so we did some work in the meantime," she stated dramatically over a coffee date they'd set up at Y/N's hotel room. Her manager seemed unusually giddy, excitement poking through her professionalism. "There is a possibility, now, hold your horses, just a possibility, that there might be an open seat at McLaren soon." This came as a shock wave. Y/N always admired her manager, who was always three steps ahead of everyone. Her mind started to race in many conflicting directions. McLaren was an exciting team, definitely a promotion. So was this why Lando ghosted her? Because she might potentially become his teammate? That was just a little too childish of him, she thought, judging her own choices in a hook up "buddy". "So does that mean that Oscar is thinking about leaving the team?" "Well, not exactly. Technically, nobody is thinking about leaving the team. Also, it's not Oscar, but Lando." And the penny dropped.

//

Lando had been in this business for years. He knew well enough what was up. Made sure to have people at the right places, faithful souls who loved him a little too much and were willing to breach their NDA for him. Of course he knew that Y/N's managers were speaking to McLaren. And also why. It took him by surprise, that was for sure. He was a great racer with a big potential. When he learned in secrecy that the reason why McLaren is thinking of changing up their driver line up, it wasn't exactly because of the actual racing, but more of marketing and appearing as a young hip team, it made him furious. Lando had started to become an old news for the marketers. Oscar and Y/N pairing had intrigued them. Of course he wasn't going to keep on with their little love affair. She was becoming a threat, more so outside the track than on the track. He was mad when he found out. Of course he had always kept his distance from Y/N. But this felt personal. She truly was a ruthless bitch, as his gut had told him from day one. It probably wasn't even attraction what he felt towards her, just his subconsciousness telling him to keep his enemies closest physically possible. He tried to hold of thinking about their glorious sex. There were bigger things at stake. He didn't feel threatened. Just little bit betrayed. He had to take action.

//

Once her manager left, she found herself pacing around her room yet again. Thoughts jumping one over another. Excitement skipping over anxiousness, joy being overrun by a sinking fear. She was always going to put her career first. So why was there a sudden urge to run to wherever Lando was and explain that she had no idea this was being set up in her name.

It was a strangely bittersweet feeling, standing at a photoshoot for her contract renewal. There was an unspoken tension between her and the team leaders, nobody willing to talk openly about the fact that they were about to drop her and she was talking about running to different team. But there she was, faking smiles, staying with the team for another two seasons, hating this industry more than ever before. In the end, she gave her everything just to stay in an environment that made her feel just like another clog in the all too big entertainment machine. McLaren calls were getting postponed and everyone knew what that meant, so her own personal team decided to jump for the first option that offered some security. With that, she smiled and posed again. Merely a shell of the fiery girl that bit Lando's arm just weeks ago. All this stress, loneliness and self-doubt had changed the course of her energy.

//

"Oh, you're taking the same elevator?" Lando asked, shooting arrows at Y/N as he pressed the close door button. He had imagined many times that he would slam a door in her face and this was the closest her could get to that. She put her hand into the door gap, giving him a strict eye roll. Finally, faith brought them into a place where they were alone again. "Really?" she said walking in the elevator. Lando tried to be the bigger and mature person. Being around her was making it impossible. He was angry and frustrated. "So...how are you?" she tried to break the ice. "You have never asked me that before. Are you sick?" "No, I'm just...we haven't spoken-" "-ever. No reason to start now," he said, acting as if this was all passing him by. Scrolling on his phone without a care in the world. "I didn't know..." "What..?" "I didn't know that my managers were having these talks," she said softly. There was an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say it. "And are you looking for my advice on how to keep the people who you pay in check? Or what is the purpose of this conversation?" "I'm just...I never wanted to try and push you out of..you know." Lando laughed. "That's some severe delulu vibe you're giving off." "Sorry?" she reacted, genuinely confused. "The audacity you have! Thinking you can manipulate the situation better than I do. Princess, I've been in the game years more than you and survived bigger shitstorms - do you really believed I'm here only because I'm a good driver? No, these games are half of the work. So no, I absolutely do not believe that you didn't know about this. And the fact that you're trying to convince me of that is highly disrespectful." Y/N was taken back, processing several conflicting reactions at the same time. The always calm Lando got pushed over the edge. And he was not done. "Next time you're drowning, don't reach out to drag me down too. You should be grateful, you got to keep your job and certainly no thanks to the shitty managers of yours, so you're welcome. I'm genuinely surprised that you landed the job you now have in the first place."

It was a lot of information blurted at her. But she got a hold of the important part. "Lando? What did you do?" He took a deep breath. He said too much. "You will never find out. Now stop talking."

Y/N hit a pause on the elevator. Not that it would help, she figured they had only few minutes extra before someone would be over to run the machine again. "The fuck are you doing," Lando exclaimed and tried to stop her. His hand grabbed her arm and Y/N got an instant flashback to the night he tied her to her own bed frame. "Did you help me?" she asked, anger spitting out of her lips. "Let's not dive into that, shall we? Now, get the elevator running." "I don't need your help, Lando." "This was not any help, I'm trying to keep you out of McLaren, so don't read into it." While that did sound reasonable, Y/N knew there was more. With that, the fire she'd been missing for weeks entered her system again. "Stop helping me, Lando," she said in a serious tone, stepping closer to the guy still holding her arm. She quickly pushed it away. "I don't need your help." She was really pushing it, he thought and bursted. "Is that so! I saw that last week. Your weak strategy and poor results nearly got you dropped. " "No, not dropped. Replacing you." "It would take the hell to freeze over for that to happen, Princess naivité. It was a straight path back to f2 at best. Get your shit together and get a grip over those who act in your name and grow up. Nobody is going to save you next time." She wondered what exactly he did, but knew that there will be a time and place for that conversation. Lando cursed himself for saying it all at once. He was there, lecturing her on strategy, while not being able to follow his own for a second when she was around. Said things he planned on keeping for himself forever. She stood in front of him and he could read the surprise on her face. Anger left her body and suddenly she never looked so innocent. Just a scared girl standing in front of him, trying to navigate their complicated world. The only reason he helped her was because he felt sorry for her. Nothing else. Definitely. "How can I repay you?" she asked, humbled by the newly found information. He took his time to respond. Prolonging this moment just a little. Knowing that soon enough, the innocent face he stared at would soon turn to its usual pseudo-tough-cool-girl mask. It was as if he saw the real Y/N for the first time. "You could stop whining and get this elevator running," he said slowly, as if his body was rejecting these words. Without any other comment, she obeyed his wish. They both turned away from each other and continued in silence. Lando had secretely hoped that she would question him more. She let out a little thank you when exiting the elevator. He watched her leave and forgot for a moment into which floor he was supposed to originally go. She paced away from his as fast as she could. These past few days have pushed her to the limit and the conversation with Lando was the last straw, the word "Princess" screaming in Lando's voice in her head.

part 5

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @multifandomwhore-003 

[discordantwritings]

Somewhere Inbetween (Nami + Robin X Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader (Reader is roommates with Robin and Nami though, but let’s be real no more people are fitting in the boys room that place is packed), inappropriate use of devil fruit powers, the inherent mild body horror of Robin’s devil fruit power, oral sex, fingering, slight exhibitionism/ voyeurism, face sitting

WC: 2.3k

Summary: You find out Nami and Robin are a bit more than friends. You find out you want to be a bit more than friends with them too.

Notes: there’s barely plot I just needed women

Tagging: @turtletaubwrites @keiva1000

Considering how close you were to Robin and Nami, and considering how you shared a room with the two of them, you really should have figured this out earlier.

In fairness to you it wasn’t odd for Nami to hold hands with everyone besides Zoro and Sanji. It wasn’t odd for Robin to always be far too close to others with her lack of understanding of personal space. It wasn’t odd for the three of you to even cuddle sometimes- all three of your beds pressed together for a “sleepover” where you all ended up in a comfortable pile.

All of that is to say that Nami and Robin being affectionate with each other was never something you even spared a second thought about. That was until you caught them in one of the storage closets.

In the dark you couldn’t make out much besides Robin’s hand up Nami’s skirt while Nami’s face was buried in the other girl’s neck. There’s a moment where you make eye contact with Robin, those bright eyes almost glowing in the dim light.

It’s really hard to close the door when she smiles at you.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you.” Robin says the second her and Nami enter your shared room later that day.

“No it’s- I mean-“ There’s no good way to translate the weird mess of feelings in your stomach as Robin smiles at you apologetically and all you can think about is those long fingers inside-

“No, no it’s our bad.” Nami walks over to you and puts a hand on your shoulder, pushing you down to sit on the bed as she sits on it.

Robin sits on your other side, giving you just enough space to where you’re not touching. “We just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Hi, I’m Robin and this is Nami, my girlfriend?” You joke, managing a smile.

“Well, see, it’s not that easy.” Nami flops back onto the bed as you turn and shoot her a confused look. “We don’t really label it like that.”

“Ok you might have lost me.” You admit, and Robin’s soft touch to your knee brings your attention back to her.

“Neither of us wanted something committed or exclusive. We are there for each other, of course, but with all the pressure of our lives we didn’t want anything to add to that.”

You take in her words and it starts to make sense. “So somewhere between partners and friends with benefits.”

“I knew you would get it!” You hear Nami’s voice behind you. “But we do have to keep it on the down low.”

You look at Robin quizzically and she sighs.

“Sanji.”

Ah, yeah. He’d be insufferable.

“Usopp or Luffy would accidentally reveal it, I’m sure Zoro would taunt Sanji about knowing it, and then I don’t think I could tell Chopper.” Nami explains more.

“Franky knows though.” Robin adds and you hear Nami giggle.

“Yeah he does.”

Your facial expression must be pure shock since Robin giggles behind her hand at you. It’s not your fault you’re suddenly learning a whole lot about your crew mates in the span of a few minutes. You lay back down on the bed, next to Nami.

“I’m going to need like a day to process this all but I’m glad I know.”

“I’m glad you know too.” Nami lays her head on your shoulder as you feel Robin lay down as well.

You’ve laid like this with them dozens of times before but you can’t help the way your mind focuses in on the heat from their bodies and the way you can feel Nami’s breath on your neck. You’ll get over it in a few days, you think, and you can go back to seeing them as your best friends.

That is, until you feel Robin’s hand on your thigh and she’s brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. You turn your head to look at her and she’s giving you that same smile she gave you earlier in the closet and you feel your heart leap up into your chest.

“Can I tell you something?” Robin asks softly, and you nod, not trusting your words.

“Nami and I think you’re very beautiful.”

Both Robin and Nami have given you compliments before but this was different. The low tone of her voice, the way her thumb rubs against the exposed skin on the border of your shorts, Nami’s hand snaking to intertwine her fingers in yours- there’s no way this could be interpreted any other way.

“Certainly not as beautiful as you two are.” You manage, breathlessly.

You feel Nami huff a small laugh into your neck as Robin moves her hand to cup your jaw gently. She holds your face still as Nami’s arm drapes over your midsection.

“Is this okay?” Robin asks as Nami’s nose nudges against your jaw.

You nod, but that isn’t good enough for Robin. “Use your words love, let Nami hear you.”

“Yes, this is- yes.” You’re torn between wanting to move your face forward to kiss Robin or to lean back into Nami’s hold.

Thankfully you didn’t have to choose as Robin leans in and presses her soft lips against yours. The kiss is slow but consuming, skilled slight movements carefully tearing down any remaining hesitance you had. You gasp as Nami nibbles at your neck, her hold around you becoming tighter as she presses her chest to you back.

“Both of us won’t be too much, will it?” Robin asks, a slight teasing tilt to her voice as the hand on your thigh goes up to your hip, playing with the waistband of your shorts.

“We won’t be mean. I mean, not unless you want us to be.” Nami is more outright with her teasing, as she always is, hand pushing your shirt up.

“I can take it.” You say, even if you don’t fully believe yourself.

“I know you’ll be so good for us.” Robin says before kissing you again, but quickly this time before she sits up. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

Robin nods to the center of the bed and you move once Nami lets you go, crawling over until your back hits the headboard. You watch as Nami leans over to Robin, whispering something in her ear while looking at you with a devious smile on her face. You flush as thoughts race through your head about what she could possibly be saying, but most coherent thoughts leave your head as Robin’s fingers move Nami’s chin and the two of them kiss.

Even though you know better it still feels like you’re watching something you shouldn’t. The way Nami’s body gives into Robin’s, the way Robin’s hands travel over Nami’s exposed midsection- it was dizzying to watch. You felt lucky to be in their presence, let alone allowed to be in on the fun.

It’s not long before their attention is turned back to you and you’re suddenly aware of the way you’d been rubbing your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction. Nami frowns slightly, and for a moment you feel like you might have done something wrong but she starts crawling over to you, hands quickly at the waistband of your shorts.

“Didn’t mean to leave you out there- can I make it up to you?” Her knee swings over her so she’s straddling your thighs, hands paused over the closure of your shorts as she waits for your response.

“If you want to.” You’re vaugley aware of Robin settling in by your side but all your focus is on Nami as she unbuttons your shorts and pulls them off of you.

Nami shimmies down the bed as she peels your shorts and panties off and you bite your lip as she pushes your thighs apart so she can settle between them. You squirm a bit under her gaze, but before you can move any more copies of Robin’s hands sprout from the bed and hold your waist down. When you first met Robin her powers were unnerving, but now limbs in places they typically shouldn’t be was normal- and now your brain was running away with thoughts of what so many hands could do to you.

“Focus on Nami, love.” Robin whispers in your ear, arguably making it harder to do what she asks.

But when one of your thighs is gently pushed over Nami’s shoulder and you can feel her breath creeping up your inner thigh your attention is held. She kisses her way closer to your core and it’s hard to hold back the whines in your throat as her lips dance right around where you want her most. One of your hands grips the sheets tight as your other is laced in Robin’s, her long fingers grounding you in more ways than one.

Nami’s fingers dip gently into your folds and gather the slick there before holding them up for Robin to see. You would’ve turned away if Robin didn’t sit up and lean forward, taking Nami’s fingers into her mouth and cleaning them off. You were transfixed as Nami took her fingers back and traveled back down, Robin’s saliva easing the way for the two fingers to push inside you. Your head pushes back into the pillow as Nami’s fingers curl inside of you.

Robin kisses against your jaw as she continues to hold you down. You feel her chuckle into your neck when you moan as Nami scissors her fingers wide, stretching you out. Robin moves up slightly, her breath fanning over your ear.

“You should pull on her hair a little, she likes that.” She whispers into your ear.

You release your hand from the sheets and gently settle your fingers in Nami’s bright hair. Hesitantly you tug lightly and are rewarded with a moan. You feel Robin grin against your neck. When Nami’s mouth latches onto your clit you reflexively pull hard and you would apologize if it didn’t make Nami double down in her efforts as you feel her fingers expertly find the spongy spot deep inside you.

“I’m-“ You’ve only had Nami’s mouth on you for seconds but you’re already falling apart, words broken by your whines.

“Come on, don’t hold back now.” Robin’s voice is soft in your ear and that’s all the encouragement you need to let go.

Nami’s mouth never stops, just turns gentler as she brings you back down from your orgasm. You whine when she pulls her fingers out, but smile when she places a kiss on your hip. She drags herself up the bed to your side.

“You taste great baby.” Nami kisses you and you can taste the remnants of yourself on her tongue.

“Can I-“ You’re flushed as your hand moves down to the waistband of her skirt and she grins.

“Yes, you just keep laying there.”

You’re not quite sure what her plan is until Robin’s hands are pulling you a bit further down the bed and Nami is pushing her skirt up. Robin leaves your side as one of Nami’s knees swing over your head and you’re left with a beautiful view over you. Her lower lips are slick as she hovers right above your face, letting you take the lead.

Your hands come up to grip her thighs and you pull her down so she is properly sitting on your face. You can’t help but push your tongue past her folds, tasting her wetness as your nose pushes against her clit. She tastes sweet- an unsurprising fact given how many oranges she eats, but you relish in it all the same. You pull back to breathe for a second, flattening your tongue out against her clit and loving the moan it draws out of her. Her hips rock against your tongue and you’re more than happy to let her use your face.

You almost forgot Robin’s presence entirely until you feel hands pushing and holding your thighs apart. Fingers part your folds as more push into you- two maybe three it’s hard to tell with how overwhelmed your senses are. All you know is you’re slowly getting filled and that you love it.

“Shit- can you just- I just need a little more baby I’m so close-“ You feel Nami’s thighs trembling under your grasp and you pull her even closer to your face and wrap your lips around her clit.

You feel her orgasm as her muscles convulse over you and you lap up every drop of cum she gives you, face slick as you stop her from pulling away before you’re done. After you’ve drunk your fill you release your grip on Nami’s thighs, letting her bring her leg over and sit next to you.

Now that your vision isn’t blocked you look around to find the source of the fingers still pumping in and out of you and you finally locate her. Robin is sitting on one of the plush loveseats Nami stole some time ago, one leg hitched over the armrest as her own fingers plunge into her. Her eyes are almost completely black as she watches you.

The hands holding you push you slightly to give Robin a better view of her work, more fingers added in, pushing you to your limit. You whine and Nami takes your hand and whispers hushed praises to you.

“Doing so well for us baby- Putting on such a good show for Robin-“ You’re close again and you feel another bloomed hand ride up from the bed and take your other hand.

You gush over the countless fingers inside you, fingernails digging into both girls hands as you scream through your intense orgasm. You can hear Robin moan and you curse yourself for not being more aware to see what she looks like when she cums. But your regrets are all forgotten about when she climbs in bed and settles into your side.

“Robin-“ You feel like you should have done something for her but before you can even get that thought out she shuts you down.

“It’s alright darling.” She presses a kiss to your temple as Nami wraps an arm around your midsection and holds you close.

“Next time.”

[peterm4rker]

BLUE'S CORNER !!

how happy it makes me to get tagged in these things is not even funny, but yeah ! i don't have many works to do this with, but i did my best !

FIRST FIC OF 2024 !!

ᯓ ¿donde está la biblioteca? [zhong chenle] — september 9th, 2024.

my first ever post and my absolute baby. this smau is completely self indulgent and was brewing in my head for so long before i actually decided to post it (i was terrified). i'm forever grateful for the people that encouraged me to put it out there !! it helped me find a community that i hold so dearly to my heart now, and i will love them forever !!

LAST FIC OF 2024 !!

ᯓ can't help falling [kim jaehee] — december 29th, 2024.

my first post that isn't nct dream !! i have to say that it is one of my favorite fics i've ever written, and it is also completely self indulgent. jaehee has owned my heart since lastart, and i think he (and nct wish in general) deserve way more love and recognition so i hope i can be part of that !!

LONGEST FIC !!

ᯓ can't help falling [kim jaehee] — 3.7k words.

i'm counting this one because i don't think the smaus count so... i have kind of a hard time writing long fics because i have a nonexistent attention span, but i'm working on it !! i hold this fic very close to my heart and i hope that all of you like it as much as i do !!

MOST POPULAR FIC !!

ᯓ from the rooftops [mark lee]

its not a written fic, but it is my most popular one. you all knew i couldn't be me without writing a spidermark fan fiction, and i'm very happy that so many people like it !! i'm taking this fic to next year, so hopefully it will continue receiving as much love as it has till now.

PERSONAL FAVORITE !!

ᯓ the stich that stole christmas [lee donghyuck]

this was haechan's peterm4rker debut and part of a christmas collaboration i did with my self (@tmrwsuns btw wink). i have to say i'm a very big christmas person even though i don't really celebrate it, so writing something for who i have the biggest soft spot for was my way to share that with all of you. i genuinely enjoyed thinking of it, writing it and i'm super happy with how you guys welcomed it, so overall it's my baby !!

i couldnt choose to put them in the banner because i simply adore them all. although i started posting fairly recently, i have at least one fic planned for each of the units and i will continue to write about all of them !! still, i needed to choose my top three, and i think no one will be surprised.

ONE. mark lee — 15,200 words + full length smau.

mark is my everything. the obsession i have with him is a little unhealthy at this point, but i love it and i don't care. to be completely honest, i sometimes have a hard time making my fics not be about mark, because he genuinely is in my head every second of every day. find him in: from the rooftops , wondering why , little white lie.

TWO. zhong chenle — 9,647 words + full length smau.

the fucker who started the peterm4rker industry. i love love love chenle (i despise him), even if he has moved second to mark over time... and yes, i counted the words of the written chapters and so what. find him in: ¿donde está la biblioteca?

THREE. kim jaehee — 3,703 words.

have i posted him literally once? yes, but he has the highest word count out of everyone i've only posted once. i love him so deeply that i could talk about him for hours, so i'm thinking i shut up before i bore all of you. find him in: can't help falling

@morkiee

the love i have for this little person is not something i can explain in words i think. i enjoy every second when we talk and i have to literally contain myself from exploding at how fucking adorable you are. you make my days better every time you text me and i hope you never forget that. my rave date and my pookie, i'm forever grateful to have you in my life<3

@lyvhie

MY BABY MY WIFE MY EVERYTHING !! i cannot express how much i fucking adore you and how grateful i am that i met you (even if it took us about 289843 years). thank you for always listening to my voice messages even when they're about 5 minutes long of me complaining about a MAN (it's soooo over) and for literally making my life better every day<3

@sinisxtea

oh hey i love you? i'm so incredibly grateful that i texted you (or did you text me?) because you opened the doors to this beautiful little community for me. thank you for always including me and showing me your freaky ass fics, even when all you have is a picture of a man falling through a ceiling. you fr are the wonhyuk to my wonjun (stan e'last please guys)<3

@yizhrt

one of the sweetest people i've encountered here even when we don't really speak much !! you're so cute and funny, and i always think of you because i have this brazilian hair cream called lola... i've been meaning to send you a pic for so long but i'm embarrassed so please bear with me.

@leejenoenthusiast

i literally adore you !! you're so fucking funny and always so supportive of all my works, i'm always happy whenever i see your name on anything !! i promise i will continue to send you pictures of woozi whenever it comes to mind<3

@neozon3nha

have we spoken much? no. do i still love you whole heartedly? yes. like i'm sooo fr when i tell you that i always get sooo happy when i see your user name on my screen like i'm literally cheering internally !!

@yutarot

i haven't spoken to you in SO long (i'm omw to text you when i'm done with this) but still i want you to know that you have a very special place in my top moots !! you've never been anything but kind and encouraging to me, so thank you for everything !!

@nlovesbjh

we just started talking very recently but i think you're really sweet and funny !! i'm glad we can share our delusions to each other, and i hope we can get to know each other better <3

some people i'd love to know better but i'm way too embarrassed to reach out to:

@viasdreams @strrykais @susicheng @wonbin-truther @sunghoonsgfreal @yoshit-he-dinosaur

i'm sorry for randomly tagging you !! i hope we can be closer in the future <3 (im shaking in my boots rn)

© peterm4rker, 2024

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Of Truths and Dreams; Lilia Vanrouge

Dreams can tell a lot about a person. Their wants, their fears. But sometimes they can tell you the truth, and sometimes it isn't pretty.

Supporting Characters; Baul (for a second), Sebek Zigvolt

Content; Soulmate AU (I call them soul matches), gender neutral reader, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic, Chapter 7 spoilers, hurt/comfort, some General Vanrouge

Content Warning; Chapter 7 spoilers, war, death (talk, I don't describe it), angst? (idk man)

Word Count; 5.5 K

Don't put my works into AI, as AI steals in order to "create".

Sebek's Story | Malleus's Story

The Thorn Fairy had gifted a blessing to the fae, a blessing of soul matches. 

A connection forged between two souls. Such a connection is rare, and different variations do occur; primarily in beastmen and merfolk. Each clan had their unique soul match bonds. And the fae were no different. However, their history was not written down on paper, or carved into the corals. The information and history of fae soul matches was an oral history, passed down from generation to generation through hushed tones. 

To outsiders, they shrugged it off as just another odd behaviour of the clan, but the fae had good reason to be wary. In the past, the knowledge of fae soul matches was shared with an outsider, and because of that blunder of misplaced trust, the royal family was targeted. But that was many a queen’s reign ago. But the fae do not forget such transgressions, no; that story, that history, is used as a warning. Tell no one but whom you would trust your life with any information regarding your soul match, lest it be used against you. No one outside of the fae, save for their soul match, is to know of this most treasured bond.

Despite the secretiveness of fae soul matches, they were celebrated once they manifested themselves, as they were a blessing from the Thorn Fairy herself. There is a catch though; due to their long life spans, it can take years, decades, or even centuries in the very rare and unfortunate cases, for the bond between soul match partners to manifest itself. The only thing more unfortunate than it taking centuries is if their soul match were human… for a human lifespan is only a fraction that of even the more short-lived fae clans. It was seen as a tragedy, a doomed pairing from the beginning, with a heartbroken fae as the only possible answer. Such pairings were pitied, and seen as bad luck.

But what does the bond between soul matches take the form of within the fae? What does the Thorn Fairy’s blessing of soul matches look like?

There are many speculations on that. Many scholars say it is a mark on the body; a mole, or three scratches. But that is not correct. It is not a shared song, a stone messenger, or a coloured thread on their finger. And there is a written record of the bond as well; one just has to dig deep into the records, scrolls, and tomes that exist within the library of the former castle of the Draconia’s.

It is also a melody, a hum on the lips of many fae if by chance you are able to hear it. I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. The soul match bonds between the fae and their match took the form of shared dreams, tinted the colour of their soul. They cannot truly see the other, or speak to each other, but the gleam in their eyes is one that will stay in their mind, as it is so familiar a gleam. 

…

…

…

Rest is a luxury, a luxury that Lilia could not spare. The war would not wait for the general to be well rested, or wait for him to have a nap. No, it would continue until it either ended with one side coming out the victor, or it would end with peace negotiations. Rest can wait. But the fae in his company were sleeping, and he was on the first watch.

But there was something else which made him avoid resting; his dreams. His dreams were black and white, devoid of any colour, and he was always alone in them. Yes, there may be other people, but they didn’t interact. His soul match was nowhere to be seen. Three hundred years and there has been absolutely nothing.

He wasn’t alone on watch duty though, Baul was beside him, staring out into the dark. 

“You need to rest,” he huffed, shooting a look towards Lilia from the corner of his eye. 

Lilia quirked a brow, but his gaze did not waver from the darkness of the forest. There was something out there, waiting. “I can rest when this is over.” His voice was cold, sharp, like that of a blade. “I cannot rest while a war is still being fought on our lands.”

Baul pushed his shoulders back and turned his eyes back to the darkness of the forest. “General, if you do not rest, it will eventually catch up to you. Whether you like it or not.” 

He was right, if Lilia did sleep, it would eventually catch up with him in the worst possible moment. The last thing that he needed was to fall into a microsleep in the middle of battle. Thirty seconds of vulnerability in the heat of conflict could spell the very end for him. He let out a tired sigh, “I suppose you are right. When our shift is over I can rest.”

After an uneventful night watch, save for the crack of a stick in the distance — which turned out to be nothing more than just a deer passing through — Lilia turned in for the night in his tent. He stared up to the ceiling, and tried to fall asleep, but the harder he tried the more difficult it became, but eventually exhaustion won over frustration and Lilia fell asleep.

His dream was black and white, as always. They have been devoid of colour for the past three hundred years, so why would they be any different now?

He was a child again, playing in a flower meadow with Malenoa and Levan. Well, Malenoa was playing whereas Levan had been dragged along against his will. And Lilia? Well, wherever the crown princess went, he followed; part of it being that they were friends, the other being that he was raised alongside her and swore to protect her.

“Lilia! Come on,” Malenoa shouted from across the glen, a big smile on her face. “Last one to the thicket is a rotten egg!” And she took off, dragging Levan behind her, the young boy letting out an undignified squawk.

Lilia gave chase, a peel of laughter escaping his lips. “That’s not fair! You got a head’s start!” He eventually caught up to the two royals at the large rose thicket on the outskirts of the meadow. “I guess I’m the rotten egg,” he huffed before sitting down next to a dishevelled looking Levan.

He didn’t really understand why the Thorn Fairy had bonded them together, Malenoa and Levan couldn’t be more opposite of each other. But soul matches do work in mysterious ways… But Lilia wondered when the Thorn Fairy would place that blessing onto him. He had spent, and would spend, his life serving the royal family after the queen had taken him in, so why didn’t the first of the royal bloodline deem him worthy?

Malenoa was looking at the roses until she found one that she liked. She plucked it from the stem, whispered a quiet thank you to the briar patch, and then placed it behind Lilia’s ear. A baby pink rose, but he could not see the colour of the flower, only that it was pale. A stark contrast against Lilia’s jet black hair.

“What’s that for,” he asked but did not dare remove the flower. He should have been used to Malenoa’s antics by now, but she still caught him off guard despite their time spent together.

Malenoa hummed, “Pink suits you, plus since you were the rotten egg, you stunk so badly that you needed the rose to cover up the smell.” She stuck out her tongue and pinched her nose with her fingers, giggling. “A stinky, stinky egg! Right, Levan?”

Levan looked tired, but he nodded his head. “Unfortunately it seems so.” He coughed, trying to cover up the chortle that nearly escaped his lips.

The easy nature of the dream shifted, the briars from the rose thicket separating Lilia from Malenoa and Levan. The thicket then caught on fire, smoking out the dream (the memory?) in a thick, dark, smoke.

Lilia woke with a start, and placed his hand over his heart. It was beating fast, and he was covered in sweat. He then heard a commotion coming from outside, and it wasn’t the usual squabbling he heard as people tried to barter over the best breakfast options.

He strided out into the camp, and he didn’t make it very far until one of the soldiers came clamouring over to him, tripping over their feet in the process.

“G-general!” They heaved, looking pale. “N-news! From the front lines!” They handed him a scroll before taking back off to their tent.

Lilia opened the scroll and his eyes froze, pupils contracting into harsh slits. The parchment crumpled in his tight fist, but he regained his composure. They had a war to end, but Lilia’s mission had shifted from that of victory for country. It had shifted to justice; to serve justice to the murders of Malenoa. For his friend, his family, for Levan, and for her unhatched egg; the hope, and now only future, for the Draconias.

…

…

…

Another four hundred years had passed, and Lilia’s dreams were still black and white. And where he may have had been bitter in his younger years, he no longer held that resentment. Yes, he still questioned why he had not received a soul match, but he had accepted that it was simply not to be. Besides, he now had more meaning in his life. He had been many things in his life; a friend, a soldier, an advisor, and now, a father. The silver haired baby that he had found years ago, Silver, was everything Lilia could ever really ask for. He loved Malleus, but not to the same degree as Silver; Malleus was the heir to the throne above all else.

Lilia was content with how things currently were, happy even. He had found his purpose.

“Hmm, this school year should prove interesting,” he hummed to himself. The ceremony was today, and it proved to be a most interesting one at that. He did wonder what the newcomer, the one not suitable to any dorm, would do. They didn’t seem like the type to just leave things alone. He shook his head though, and made himself comfortable in his bed, turning in for the night.

He was in the meadow of his youth again, but it was now overgrown. The vines from the rose thicket choking out all of the other flowers and grasses. And all but one rose was withered away. And this single rose was pink. Lilia could see colour, and the pink bled into the rest of the dream, casting everything in a rose-tinted light. 

After seven hundred years, the Thorn Fairy had finally answered his call. And everything was pink. “After all this time, now you have decided they can enter my life,” he whispered, looking directly at the rose. 

If he were younger, he would have been overjoyed, but Lilia knew that he did not have the commodity of time at his side. Despite the fae’s long lifespan, he was old, and his magic reservoir was running low. And the bitterness that he had since forgotten reappeared. “Why would you put them through this?”

He turned on his heel, but stopped. At the edge of the meadow was his soul match, he could not make out their face, appearance, nor their voice, but he knew it was them. “You should leave.” His words were not spoken, but were instead written in the air in glowing pink letters. But instead of turning around and leaving, they took a step forward, and then another, before coming to rest in front of Lilia.

“Who are you,” their words were written in pink letters, just like his. And even though he could not see their face, he could distinctly tell they wore an expression of confusion. “And why is everything pink?”

Lilia woke up to the sounds of his alarm going off, ripping him out of the dream. Why is everything pink? His soul match didn’t know what the colour ment, which could only mean one thing; his match was not fae. His soul match was mortal. And that revelation made a lump form in his throat.

He was worried about his soul match outliving him, that the possibility that he would outlive them never crossed his mind. Why had the Thorn Fairy chosen them? Why did she gift him an ending that would end in heartbreak?

…

…

Ever since finding yourself in Twisted Wonderland you started keeping a dream journal. Alongside the weird, and sometimes downright disturbing, dreams about future overblots, you had rose-tinted ones with a stranger in them. But they kept their distance. And you hadn’t found any answers for them. 

“Human!” The sharp shout from Sebek tore you away from your thoughts, as the first-year student was incredibly… loud. “Do you know how rude it is to ignore somebody when they are talking?! Did you not sleep last night?!” 

In the few months that you’ve been stuck here, you came to call the abrasive Diasomnia student a reluctant friend. He may be prickly, but it was his own way of showing that he cared… in his own roundabout way which usually involved yelling and non-intentional insults. 

Did you not sleep last night?! Yes, but it was anything but restful.

You were in the midst of a battlefield, which was now long over. The only evidence being the hollow armour of warriors long fallen. And, as in all of your dreams, there were roses everywhere. Their thorny vines creating a wall, trapping you and the pink stranger in together.

This wasn’t your dream, it was their’s… or more like a memory? It was all way too centred in reality, in mourning and loss, to be a dream. What did they live through?

“What happened here?” Your words floated gently in the air and only disappeared when the stranger noticed them.

They picked up a broken spear and held it gently in their grasp. “What do you think? War. War is what happened here.” Their words floated in front of you, and you could see the weight of them on their shoulders. “The dreams of many died here, the only thing remaining of them being the armour that was supposed to protect them.”

What the hell have they lived through? “... were you there?” 

The dream shifted, no longer were you standing on a long forgotten battlefield, now reclaimed by nature, but you were now sitting in a dark castle. Not even the pink hue over everything could brighten it.

The stranger went up the stairs. Go away, can you not tell I am not the best person for you? Our story will only end in hurt. But they said none of that, continuing to go up the long winding staircase. “Did you hear me? I asked you if you were there!” You yelled after them, following them up the spiralling staircase until the both of you came to a halt in front of a large wooden door, scorched at the bottom.

“Yes,” the words floated in your face before fading away. “I was there… I led the battle. I led them to death.”

I led them to death. You were sweating buckets, but before you knew what you were doing you wrote down a note in your dream journal

Roses. Thorns. Battle. Magic. War. You had no real idea what it all meant, but it was somewhere to start. A step in the direction of figuring what it all meant

“No,” you said, avoiding Sebek’s concerned gaze, “I didn’t sleep well… not at all.” You hadn’t slept soundly in weeks. You hadn’t had a pleasant dream since you woke up here. “Nightmares,” you whispered, “night after night. And a stranger, the same stranger, who is avoiding me.”

Sebek’s face paled, and he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Human,” his voice was now quiet, guarded. He led you to a classroom and made sure no one was around. “Are these dreams a certain colour? Do words float in the air? Can you not make out their face?” Even though this was the quietest that he has spoken, it was also the most serious Sebek had been with you. 

You nodded your head, “All of that, yes. How did you know?” Your brows pinched, and you let out a deep sigh. “Sebek, if you know something, please, just tell me.”

Sebek was fighting a war in his head; tell the truth to you, or keep the fae soul match a secret. But the dark bags under your eyes told him enough. “You have a soul match, and they are fae. I’m… sorry.”

The bell rang and he was off to his next class, leaving you alone with this world altering information. I have a soul match? They’re fae? … why did he look so sad for me?

…

…

…

Lilia noticed something off about Sebek the moment he walked, or rather stormed, to the confines of his room. So, he followed, gently knocking at the door, waiting for an answer.

“May I come in?”

He heard Sebek scramble up and open the door. “Of course, Lilia-sama!” He was just like his grandfather; loud, a bit too stiff for his own good, but loyal, almost to a fault. 

Lilia walked over to the bed, and patted the spot beside him. “Come, sit. You seem to be carrying quite the burden.” He had noticed Sebek’s odd behaviour all day, and it wasn’t like him to do so. “Come now, out with it.”

Sebek picked at a loose thread on his bedding, and massaged his temple. “It’s about soul matches.”

Lilia felt the lump in his throat form again. “What about them? They are a blessing from the Thorn Fairy herself. Who are we to question her decision-”

“A human disclosed that they have a soul match, a fae soul match. And I told them that. I broke the oath to not tell anyone!” Sebek clenched his fists and looked down at the floor. “They aren’t even my soul match, and I told them!”

Lilia placed his hand on Sebek’s back, and started patting him on the back. A gesture that meant everything was going to be okay. “Well,” a breathy chuckle escaped his lips, a soft smile on his face, “they deserve to know what is ahead of them, do they not?”

Like I have been trying to tell mine, but they still have not left it alone. They keep on showing up, night after night.

Sebek seemed to calm down, but there was still a lot weighing heavy in his mind. “It’s not my place to talk. It is for them, and their match to decide. But,” he took a deep breath, and that familiar intensity in his eyes was back, “I can’t help but worry.”

Lilia recognized the look in his pseudo-adopted son’s eyes, it all too well reflected the look Baul would get before battle. And this was Sebek, concerned for a human, which would only mean one thing; whoever they were, they were a friend of his. And that narrowed everything down. Time to do some sleuthing of my own. “They’re strong, most likely stubborn. They shall be fine,” his voice was light, trying to brighten the atmosphere of the room. “It’s late, you should really get some rest.”

With that, Lilia walked out of the room and softly closed the door. There was something that he needed to do tonight, in his dream.

…

…

This dream was different from all the others. There were no signs of the thorny brambles of roses. There were no signs of war. No, instead Lilia found himself in the courtyard of Night Raven College, the sun high overhead and a slight breeze playing with loose leaves. This wasn’t his dream; it was his soul match’s. And you were sitting under a tree, looking up at the sky, just watching the clouds pass by. 

“This is a nice change of pace,” the pink words drifted slowly in the wind. “Better than nightmares and bad memories.”

Lilia felt a twinge of guilt. Better than nightmares and bad memories. Those were his doing. And instead of him being subjected to your nightmares and memories that you would rather forget, the both of them were here, in a quiet moment in time. There was no war, there was no loss. There was only you and Lilia, and an easy feeling. “You are too kind,” he sighed. Thank you. That is what he meant.

You hummed, “I can’t control my dreams, so it’s really just a fluke.” You sighed and rested your head against the tree, closing your eyes and enjoying the filtered sunlight. “I’m just happy it’s a pleasant one.”

“As am I,” he took a seat next to you and looked up to the sky, watching the clouds aimlessly pass by. I need to tell them. “It is cruel, what the Thorn Fairy has done to you. Gifting you a fae soul match.”

You turned your head towards him. Even though you couldn’t truly see who they were, you could see that they carried a lot on their shoulders. You didn’t say anything though, but instead offered your silence as an indicator for him to continue.

“How much do you know about soul matches?” It is their and their soul match’s decision. He wanted to tell them everything, so that they could decide for themself if they wanted him in their life.

You sighed. So now they decide to tell me? “Pretty much nothin’. Just the basics; soul matches exist, which I can kinda infer what it means, they’re gifted by the Thorn Fairy, and you’re fae. I have found absolutely nothing that even talks about the subject, and nobody but my one friend has mentioned it.”

Nobody but my one friend has mentioned it. Were they friends with Sebek? That would narrow down everything drastically, and would also explain why they were relaxing at Night Raven College in their dream. Lilia knew them. They were already closer than he ever thought. 

“So, please,” you turned to look at the stranger, your soul match, eyes gleaming gently. “Tell me, tell me everything.”

So he did, he and you sat under the tree for the entirety of the dream, discussing what soul matches were, the different forms and bonds they come in, and what you could expect from this. 

I know you, that look in your eye is so familiar a gleam.

…

…

Ever since that dream from a few days ago, you have noticed your soul match get more playful and teasing in your dreams. They no longer held you at a distance, it was a drastic but welcomed change. The cold was gone, and instead there was warmth. But something still felt off. With everything that has happened, with seeing each other's dreams and memories, you still didn’t know who they were. And everytime you tried to tell them your name, the words didn’t form. It was annoying.

“Something on your mind, Prefect,” a familiar teasing voice chuckled from behind you. Lilia shot you a teasing smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. He used to startle you whenever he decided to sneak up on you, but you grew accustomed to his playful nature. 

You shot him a look, but then shook your head and chuckled. “Just thinking is all. What about you?” You had noticed that Lilia had gotten more lively, the dark cloud that seemed to hang around him for the past few weeks had seemed to vanish. “You seem to be in a more chipper mood,” you chuckled.

 He gave you a quiet chortle, the only real evidence of it being the subtle movement of his shoulders and the quiet exhale from his lips. His magenta eyes gleamed softly in the dim lighting of the hallway. They were familiar, but you could have sworn that you had seen them somewhere before, but the answer was avoiding you.

“Just a lot has happened is all, and it brought a surprise with it.” Lilia was cryptic, but it was a part of his odd charm. A mix of something old beyond your years, and a more youthful impishness. It was endearing.

He reminded you of somebody, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. “Fine then, old man, keep your secrets. One day I’ll make you spill.”

The two of you exploded with laughter, and Lilia patted you on the shoulder. “Maybe someday. I’ll be looking forward to it, Prefect.” He waved you goodbye as he made his way to his next class. Leaving you alone in the hallway. 

You hummed to yourself as you made your way to your next class, History of Magic, where Trein was preparing on his lecture to tell the first years about the fae-human wars. Something that you had already witnessed the aftermath of, despite not knowing it at the time. After all, that’s what that one dream was about; the one of the meadow, the rose briars, and the rusting armour laying half buried in the earth. But you didn’t know the true horrors of war, and your soul match made sure that you would never have to witness what he had.

…

…

…

You were back in the meadow, in the middle of the fray. No longer were the rusted armours and broken weapons half buried, their wielders were alive again, and you were caught in the middle of it. The sky was an angry shade of pink, and thunder rumbled ominous in the distance… nope that was cannon fire.

Everything was absolute chaos, and you were thankful that nothing could harm you in the dreams, but that didn’t make you flinch any less whenever a ghost arrow flied through the air. Or maybe it would be more accurate to call you the ghost. You weren’t going to dwell on that though, since you didn’t want to push your luck. Something you seemed to be in short supply of.

You saw a flash in front of you, and a bat-masked figure was in front of you, glowing red eyes staring at you, before running back into the battle. Even though this was a dream, you could have sworn that they saw you. And then you were ripped away from the battle ground, being pulled up by your underarms. Looking up you saw the fuzzy and distorted visage of your soul match, pulling you away from danger.

“What were you doing?!” They snapped at you. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could infer their tone and emotion from their body language and you know, hauling your ass away from danger.

You patted their forearm, and looked back down to the flashes of magic and metal gleaming in the waning light of the setting sun. “Were you here? This is more than a dream, isn’t it? This is a memory.” 

Dreams are often a flight of fancy, but for Lilia, and for you, they were more than randomly concocted scenarios played out by the sleeping mind. These dreams held truth, the dreams were memories. And this memory showed the most impactful one.

“How many?”

That statement could mean so many things. It could mean how many battles. How many lives were lost. How many lives had he taken. “Too many to count,” is what he decided on saying. It was true though, Lilia had lost count of how many times he had done all of those things. “You must think of me as cruel,” a sad yet harsh laugh left his mouth, and he looked down at you. “A monster.”

You looked back. There was sadness in your match’s eyes, but also a tiredness. “I don’t think you’re a monster, or cruel though.”

Lilia looked into your eyes. You were being honest, sincere, and your eyes showed that. They were the only part of you that he could clearly make out. They were familiar, they were warm. “I am down there though, leading the assault… against the humans.” Against you.

“The past is the past. What is done, is done. We can’t change that.” Leading the assault… didn’t Professor Trein talk about the wars today? “I won’t judge you based on your past, especially if you’re super old which I know pretty well that your are, gramps. But you can’t change it. It has left its scars, but what matters most is the present and what lies ahead.”

You were right, and Lilia felt foolish to let that small part of himself, the insecurity of not being wanted, fester. “I’m the old one? You sound far more wiser than your years… you whippersnapper.”

The battle faded away, and the two of you floated down to the meadow. It had morphed, morphed back into the meadow of Lilia’s youth; filled with wildflowers, grasses, and the rose thicket was in full bloom. And if you listened close enough, you could hear the laughter of a young girl in the breeze as a raven flew overhead.

…

…

Lilia needed to find you. Your dreams were filled with premonitions, and they sat heavy in his mind at the repercussions they could make. They sent off alarm bells in his mind. Lilia was in a tizzy. I have to find them.

His magic was running out, and he knew that his lifespan had shortened drastically. He would be lucky to live another sixty or seventy years, which was nothing in the eyes of many fae. But that was a human lifetime. A lifetime that could be spent with not just Silver and Sebek, but you. He wanted to find you. He didn’t care what form your soul match bond took; be it like the relationship of family, of friends, or of lovers. He wanted to find you, needed to find you.

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. Those eyes, they were the only part of you that he could ever make out. Eyes filled with mischief, responsibility, curiosity, and kindness. He knew those eyes. They were your eyes, the Ramshackle Prefect’s eyes. How could I be so blind?

It made all too much sense. The dreams had only started when you showed up. He felt drawn to you, like a moth to flame. It made sense that you would be the human that had made Sebek drop his guard and tell a human about fae soul matches. It made all of the sense in the world. And it had taken until now for him to realise. Perhaps he really was an ‘old man’ and already going senile like you joked, both in and out of the dreams.

That is how he came to find himself at your front door, in the middle of the night, still wearing his hot pink and neon green pyjamas. All because of the one dream, the most recent dream of overblot, and his own realisation of who you truly were. So he knocked three times, and waited for you to come down.

You groaned awake, the faint memory of the dream still weighing heavy on your mind. I can never catch a break, huh? I swear if it’s Ace I’m going to drop kick him. You begrudgingly made your way to the front door, and opened it right as a yawn escaped your mouth. “Lilia?”

What was Lilia doing at your front door? It was like two in the morning… although his bat print pyjamas were pretty great. Was that ‘Bat-tastic’ written in swirly font? Where in Twisted Wonderland had he found that?

“What are you doing here?” Was what you said instead. 

“Do you recognize me,” he whispered, taking your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Recognize you? “Your Lilia, of course I recognize you, old man.”

He looked at you, magenta eyes practically glowing in the dark. Familiar magenta eyes. Eyes that held such familiar a gleam… as if you had seen them countless times in your dreams, tinted a paler shade of the colour. “Prefect, have we met before? I could have sworn that I met you… once upon a dream?”

It all made sense. It all made sense. The coldness at first, the memories of war, the playfulness. Why everything was pink. Your match, the perceived stranger, was no stranger at all. They were Lilia.

“So you’re them,” you said softly. “We’re soul matches?”

He shot you a playful wink, “It would seem so. And I’m happy that you are them, and they, you.”

All of those centuries spent alone, wondering why the Thorn Fairy had not granted him the blessing of having a soul match, and then the confusion of finally receiving one after years of nothing, now had an answer. It was you, and Lilia knew that the seven hundred years may have been lonely, but whatever time he had left, he would be more than happy to spend with you. 

Fin!

Author's Note; Enjoy this word vomit. If you want to read more, do check out my masterlist.

Tags; @xxoomiii @eynnwwyjth @twistwonderlanddevotee @savanaclaw1996 @identity-theft-101

[hold-him-down]

Hold Him Down (pt. 1)

TW: Med Whump, Gratuitous Med Whump, Medical Restraints, Chemical Restraints, Noncon Touch, Referenced Noncon, Parker Destin, Institutionalized Slavery, Noncon Drugging, Conditioning, Referenced Food/Water Restriction, Referenced/Described STI testing, Referenced/Described Shock Collar, Whumper POV, literally over 4k words wtf, get leo a pet fish and warm hug when.

Notes: This is one of those things that I'm, as usual, not sure needs to or should exist, but I spent so much time writing it that I couldn't just NOT post it, sooo here it is. Parts 4-6 coming eventually. Takes place in the 12-ish hour span after Leo is prematurely returned from our best guy, Parker Destin. This may be one that I revisit and try to refine down the line.

✥ ✥ ✥

From behind a two-way mirror, Handler Otto Gray and an unfamiliar intake handler stand, arms crossed over their chests. They watch Leo quietly, relieved that, at least for now, the dust has settled. 

His eyes finally closed, a few hours earlier, following a massive fight that ended in a sizable dose of Lorazepam. Even drugged, it took what felt like ages for him to settle down, and even longer for his body to finally go limp. Hours later, the salty tear-streaks are still visible on his cheeks.

The doctor asked them to wait on cleaning him up; in spite of the second handler’s objections, in spite of the apparently innate desire to put this unconscious boy in his place, the handler turned on his heels and left in a huff. Otto hesitated, sparing a quick glance at Leo. He wondered, briefly, how he had managed to fail so spectacularly, before dismissing the thought all together. Against his better judgment, he squeezed Leo’s hand briefly, then he checked to make sure the restraints were appropriately secured and exited. Today was sure to be a long day, sure to be even longer if they could not get a handle on whatever panic-induced psychosis Leo was clearly grappling with.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, shift change happened. The handler who had spent the evening scowling at Leo’s lifeless form clocked out, muttering a, “Good luck,” to his replacement. Otto stayed, though, with a quick glance at handler Nick Ford, according to his name tag, and a muttered greeting. Hopefully, he thinks, this one is better suited for this type of work than the last. The doctor comes up behind them, and the three stand in silence for a moment.

“He’s asleep?” the doctor asks, which is a question that could ordinarily be answered with a quick glance through a chart, but Leo has a notoriously unpredictable response to sedatives and that, if nothing else, has been noted numerously in his file.

Otto nods, his jaw locked. “I think so.”

Leo’s wrists are red, raw where each strap hugs them, but for the last few hours, they have been still. Mostly.

“For how long?” the doctor asks, thumbing through the notes from the night before. A colorful account of the events that led to this moment, which, although maybe not immediately helpful, might lend insight into the inner workings of Leo Evans.

“A couple hours,” Handler Ford supplies, and Otto is struck suddenly with a potent distaste for how this night has played out. 

It’s not out of the ordinary, exactly, for a worker to require this level of support after a contract.  He hoped, though, maybe naively, that Leo was more resilient than this.

He’s been drugged out of his mind, and as hard as he fought it, the drugs eventually dragged him under. To Otto’s understanding, it was only after several hours of trying to calm him down using other methods that he was eventually medicated, and, to Otto’s understanding, the doctor intends now to keep him drugged until he’s under control. He idly wonders if there’s a chance at modifying those plans. Leo is tough, sometimes damn near impossible to work with, but they had found a kind of balance when Otto was his handler. And he thinks, now, he can perhaps spare everyone some heartache if he can have a go at his former trainee.

Otto peers in closer to the window as Leo gasps, his wrists pulling once, lightly, at the straps.

“Alright,” the doctor says, at the same time that Leo’s eyes crack open. As Handler Ford reviews the notes with the Doctor, Otto studies Leo. He hadn’t been an easy trainee. He had been downright defiant at times, resistant to every standard training tool the DLS employed. Otto had been called in in his second month, after his primary handler was fired for, more or less, losing his patience with Leo one time too many, with Leo landing in the ICU. Even after that, success came in short, nearly unpredictable bursts.

When Leo had finally been cleared to take his first contract, that would usually have been the end of Otto’s time with him. But, at least in some of his most challenging successes, he liked to keep an eye on them, if not just to see how they did. He would tell you he did this to improve his own methods, and to help him understand the longer term implications of his work. That wouldn't be the whole truth, though. 

Leo was one of the select few that Otto found himself keeping an eye on. He had gotten through his first contract easily, and Otto recalled the feeling of immense relief as he read through Ms. Smith’s post-contract interview. Leo had been put in a short term holding site and almost immediately secured his second contract. That one wasn’t set to terminate for three months still, so when Otto got the notification that Leo’s file was being updated last night, he called in some favors with the intake department.

He stands here now, mostly frustrated, a little bit confused, and perhaps, maybe slightly sympathetic. Simmering beneath all that is anger, misplaced but a constant undertone that, he worries, may drive some of his decisions today. He buries it as deeply as he can. It serves neither him nor Leo.

Leo blinks hard toward the ceiling, but seems to clock his circumstances quickly. His head turns toward the mirror and for a moment, Otto thinks Leo can see him, right through him, right into the place Leo used to occasionally access and attempt to exploit.

Otto stares at his eyes, red, heavy, and unfocused, and wills Leo to remain calm. Leo swallows, and pulls again against the restraints.

Stop, Otto silently commands. But he doesn’t. Of course, he wouldn’t.

“What are the odds he’ll take it on his own?” Otto hears from next to him.

“What?” Otto responds, shifting his focus.

“The meds?” Handler Ford says as he holds up a small cup of pills in one hand, a syringe filled with an off-white liquid in the other.

“Oh,” Otto responds. The odds, he thinks, are nonexistent. The good news is this isn’t explicitly his problem anymore. 

“Any pointers?” Handler Ford asks then. At Otto’s look, he says, “You worked with him, right?” 

Otto nods, but doesn’t offer any pointer. Handler Ford stares at him intently, so, out of some misplaced desire to prove that he is not, in fact, completely incompetent with his trainees, he says, “A long time ago. I did his initial training after his first handler got canned.”

“What for?” Ford asks. He’s stalling, Otto thinks. 

“Assault,” Otto supplies. He inclines his head toward the room, and turns away from Handler Ford, re-orienting himself toward the window.

“Wish me luck?”

“Good Luck,” Otto says, not unkindly, as the handler disappears behind the door. Moments later, he is in Leo’s room.

Leo’s demeanor immediately shifts, from alarmed and fighting to gain function to panicked, but he stills, he swallows, he forces his eyes on the handler, and takes a breath. Good boy, Otto thinks.

He’s whispering something, but Otto can’t make out the words. He thinks he’s heard Parker’s name, and Handler Ford shakes his head.

Leo nods, then, and takes one of those deep, shuddering breaths that usually mean he’s on the edge of some big feelings. Otto, once more, leans closer to the window.

Handler Ford begins listing out the things he needs Leo to do this morning, and Leo’s brow creases as he takes it in, nodding after each item, but seemingly oblivious to the actual requests.

Inside the observation room, the doctor joins Otto.

“Do you know what happened?” Otto asks the doctor. Otto, immediately realizing he could be asking any number of things, clarifies, “That led to this. He didn’t have an issue after his first contract.”

“Sometimes they get freaked out after spending some time with a particularly cozy buyer,” he replies. 

Otto nods. 

In the room, Handler Ford’s hand is on Leo’s neck, pressing under the collar. Leo stays still, but Otto can see the fear in his eyes, behind layers and layers of grief. It’s odd, seeing him like this.

“You didn’t last too long, did you?” Handler Ford is saying, dripping condescension, as Leo swallows, holding in a fresh wave of tears.

✥ ✥ ✥

“It’s nothing personal, Leo.” Parker’s driver waits for Leo just beyond the threshold. In his hand, Parker holds out a DLS-issued bag.

Leo nods.

Parker grabs his face between his hands and presses his lips to Leo’s forehead. “You have to understand I didn’t plan for this,” he’s saying, but Leo’s ears are ringing. “I would have waited to take on a worker if I had any inclination I would be called away.” His words are kind, Leo thinks, but there’s almost a note of condescension under them. 

Leo feels a sort of emptiness spreading throughout him, a cold void that precedes what he could only describe as terror. For what’s next. For losing this thing, that he isn’t sure he should want, but he wants, so desperately. He clings to it. 

“Parker, I– I can,” Leo starts, taking a step back. He can, what? fix this? do better? be better? “Please don’t do this…”

Parker’s thumbs glide across Leo’s cheeks.

“I thought they beat that out of you,” Parker says, his lips pulled into a half-smile. Leo falters, the words he has prepared are completely knocked out of him.

“I– I’m sorry,” is all he can now formulate. He can feel his circumstances changing as every second passes. He’s going to be sick. The feeling of bile rising wars against the knowledge that if he is sick at this moment, it will be unforgivable. 

Parker’s hands drift down to Leo’s shoulders and he pulls him into a half-hug, pressing his forehead against Leo’s.

“Don’t worry about it,” Parker says. He wants to say more, Leo thinks.

Instead, Parker uses the grip he has on Leo’s shoulder to push him away and rakes his eyes slowly over Leo, from his head to his toes. He smiles and grabs the collar of Leo’s shirt, poking out from under a deep blue sweater. It’s Parker’s favorite.

He inclines his head briefly toward the door and Leo counts every breath he takes.

“They said not to send your books and clothes and things,” Parker explains as he pulls open the front door. “It’ll just go to waste. I can donate it, if you’d like?”

And Leo, in that moment, hesitates. Can he ask Parker to keep it, for when he gets back from his trip? Maybe, he thinks. Maybe Parker hasn’t considered that Leo could stay in the house and look after it, and he doesn’t need to send him away. 

And then it occurs to Leo that maybe Parker is using this time to help figure out the gaps in his training, because they’ve been butting heads lately, and if that’s the case, he wants to tell Parker that he will take this time seriously, and will be better suited to be what Parker needs him to be when he returns.

Leo opens his mouth to say this, to say any of it, even just to tell Parker that he will try harder when he gets back from his trip.

But the panic wraps itself around Leo’s throat, and Leo says nothing.

✥ ✥ ✥

“Are you ready to behave?” The words distort around the edges and Leo blinks hard, willing himself to focus.

This handler, Leo thinks, is unfamiliar to him. There is a fuzziness to both his vision and his thoughts, compounded by blurry memories of the night before. The handler is standing just outside of his line of sight, offering terse reprimands each time he fails to respond. He is trying, though. He wants to tell them he’s trying, but his tongue feels too thick and his voice won’t work.

There’s an added danger that Leo tries not to acknowledge, even silently. They’ve put a training collar on him, but they haven’t gone so far as to shock the world into focus. Even if his limbs didn’t weigh a thousand pounds, he would not be able to lift them. Thick canvas straps wound tightly around each wrist and ankle keep him in place, and Leo blinks at the unexpected wave of terror: these people can and will hurt him with no regard for the fact that he is wholly unable to protect himself. 

The drugs help him accept these facts, but do not help him to forget them.

Memories of the night before claw their way to the surface. Of the sound of his own screaming, of gloved hands pinning him down, of his clothing being pulled off of his body. Of Parker's favorite sweater, which he held tightly to his chest, as it was ripped from his arms. He flinches at the memory of himself, just [some?] hours earlier, as he begged them to let him keep it, as a needle digs its way deep into his thigh. The darkness was quick to swallow him up after that.

And then there are other memories, too, from later in the night. Distorted flashes of the handlers coming to visit him, of cold hands pulling off the thin blanket that had been draped over him. He wondered if the drugs might ease the pain. When they didn’t, he allowed himself a moment of relief in the hope that this might all just be written off as a drug-induced nightmare in the light of day.

And now, the drugs fading, and the light of day doing nothing to erase ache deep inside of him, he swallows, blinking slowly, and longs only for the reprieve that unconsciousness may bring. That maybe they will drug him again, before they touch him again. His stomach turns over, and he draws his focus to the lights on the ceiling.

“He’s lost some weight,” he hears the doctor say, but they aren’t speaking to him, so he closes his eyes and taps each finger on the pad beneath him, just to see if he can feel them all. 

“His buyer kept him hungry,” the handler replies. He can, he thinks, feel them all. “My understanding is he kept him on a pretty strict eating plan.”

Leo recoils, hearing Parker’s voice in his head. The DLS has asked that you start out on a kind of strict meal plan for a little bit. He blinks back tears at the unwelcome memories. Of Parker, event after event, selecting everything he ate, everything he touched. Of the imperceptible nod Parker would give him when he reached for something at the dinner table. Or the terse shake of his head when he moved to something unacceptable. 

Leo wants to tell these men that Parker didn’t keep him hungry. That he was just enacting the plan he had been given.

“I’ll need a copy of it,” the doctor responds, and Leo squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his mind blank.

“It’s in his file,” the handler says. Leo’s ears ring. 

“Good.” The doctor presses his hands fingers into the back of Leo’s neck, the collar momentarily tightening as the fingers explore under it. “He’s dehydrated,” he says, and Leo can picture the handler typing his notes. “Are you going to tell me the buyer restricted his water intake too?”

From somewhere far away, the handler laughs, and Leo’s expression tightens, momentarily stunned by the mockery.

“It’s alright,” he thinks he hears, but the voices are so far away now. He doesn’t know that he’s crying until he feels a thumb wiping at his cheek, and Leo sucks in a breath. “You’re alright.”

The world stands still for what could be seconds or minutes or longer. When the doctor’s hand finally migrates upward, and a light is shined into each of Leo’s eyes, he is momentarily blinded, but immediately aware that he has lost time.

The doctor’s fingers, inches from his face, snap once. “Hi, Leo,” he says simply. And then, “I’m Dr. Grant. Are you with me?”

Leo swallows, which hurts, and other memories slide to the surface of the night before. He tries to nod. The movement makes his head pound. “Yes,” he whispers, but based on the doctor’s– what was his name?– grimace, he doesn’t think it came out right.

The doctor sighs and seemingly gives up on Leo’s active participation, instead pulling the blanket down to Leo’s waist and putting a stethoscope to Leo’s chest. It’s nothing, Leo thinks, but it’s never just this. He closes his eyes again and begins counting in his head. Every so often, he forgets where he left off, and he starts over.

The doctor explains what he’s doing as he works, and Leo wonders idly if it’s for his benefit or for some other reason. To pass the time, and maybe to distract himself, Leo imagines a new doctor in the adjacent observation room, learning this trade. He wonders if it’s a good doctor or a bad doctor, and opens his eyes just enough to glance toward the mirror, to see if he can spot him back there. There are no good doctors here, he decides, and starts counting again.

The doctor looks at Leo’s wrists and describes them to the handler, who writes it all down. He examines Leo’s arms and his shoulders and his chest and his stomach as he searches for signs that Parker hurt him beyond what would be considered reasonable, which he didn’t, Leo wants to say, and that Parker will come back for him after his trip, and that he needs to be ready to go home. Then he starts counting again, because the idea of telling this man that Parker will come back for him will be met with laughter, and Leo doesn’t know if he can handle it. He’s pretty sure he can’t.

Fingers prod at Leo’s stomach and he can’t suppress the accompanying flinch, and as the drugs start to wear thin, he feels himself less and less able to accept what is being done to him.

“Alright, Leo,” the doctor says, and Leo opens his eyes and is met with mostly, he thinks, concern.

“I’ll be back.” The doctor shoots the handler a look, and Leo wants to close his eyes again, but as the handler approaches, Leo knows, acutely, that it’s a bad idea.

“Are you going to cause a scene?” the handler asks, before lifting the blanket from Leo’s lap. Leo shrinks back, an instant passing in which his entire body goes rigid, but shakes his head ‘no.’ He hopes it’s enough.

He holds his breath, waiting for it to be over, or, waiting for it to start, and feels the handler’s eyes sliding down his body.

He thinks he might be shaking, but he isn’t sure. 

The doctor returns a moment later, and after a quick assessment of how things have evolved, issues a quick but gentle, “It’s alright.” It’s not, though, and Leo locks his jaw to keep from crying. He wants to ask if he can close his eyes again. Sometimes they would let him, when things were about to get really bad, in initial training. Sometimes, if he asked clearly, and if he caught them on a good day, they would let him.

“No wonder he was returned,” the handler says, leaning back against the wall. 

“Can I close my eyes?” he whispers then, before he can catch the humor in the handler’s expression. The doctor looks at him once, and nods. Leo doesn’t hesitate to clamp his eyes shut, unwilling to chance opening them at all, maybe ever, and instead continues counting in his head. 

“Continue working on your empathy,” the doctor says evenly, but Leo is pretty sure he isn’t speaking to him so he works on breathing and counting and nothing else.

He tries to block out the words. This is another moment in training, and it too will end eventually. 

“They put him through hell in training. He has a right to be mistrustful.” And then, to Leo, he says, “I’m going to give you something to help balance you out,” and his touch disappears. “Just hang tight, Leo.” 

Without warning, a hand clamps around his neck, pinning him in place. His eyes fly open, his arms pull instinctively against the restraints, as the tip of a syringe is pushed past his teeth and to the back of his throat.

He gags, his head knocking back against the thin pillow, but the handler’s grip is merciless, and in the next instant, a thick, bitter liquid is sliding down his throat. Tears well in his eyes, and he would swear the culprit was simply the bitterness of the medicine.

It’s mistaken for something else, though, and the handler releases him as the doctor runs a hand through his hair and says, “You’re alright.”

Leo’s shaking harder now, and his fingers grip into the pad he lays on and he urges himself to still. His chest aches as he tries to catch his breath, the taste of the medicine still heavy on his tongue. But still, almost immediately, he can feel his body lightening, the tension pulling back until the shaking eases, and the doctor nods, and approaches. Leo can’t feel the fear he knows he should feel. 

He can feel nothing.

Even with the memories of the night before, even with the doctor and the handler so close to him, he can breathe again.

Still, Leo can’t contain the subconscious jerk of his body as a flash of sharp pain shoots through him. The doctor issues an apology, along with a soft, “almost done,” and turns the swab, over and over, as Leo’s legs fight against the hands that hold them in place. He tries to find a place in his mind to retreat into, but he hasn’t been there in months, if not longer, and in that moment, it offers no reprieve. He thinks he cries out, locking his teeth and pressing his head back into the pillow as hard as he can to distract himself from what goes on lower. When the doctor is finished, he wipes Leo down and drapes the blanket over his lap.

What he doesn’t say is ‘Good, Leo,’ because they would both know it to be untrue. 

Still, in the next breath, the restraints are being unbuckled, and Leo is lifted at his shoulders until he is sitting, and his wrists are being examined, and there is a hand rubbing his back. He blinks slowly, willing the room back into focus, and he can hear voices but he isn’t able to follow their conversation.

“It doesn’t need to be this hard,” he thinks the handler is saying, and even though his head is hung low and his shoulders are scrunched to make him as small as possible, in his peripherals he can see the doctor shooting the handler a sharp look. “What?” he bites back. “It’s true.”

“Alright, Leo,” the doctor says then, ignoring the handler entirely. Leo keeps his eyes locked on the ground and he takes the blanket in a white-knuckled grip.

The doctor lets him catch his breath, rubbing his back every few seconds. Leo thinks he’s using it to get a read on his heart rate, but he doesn’t care just then. The doctor explains what’s next, and moves to ease Leo onto his side. Leo, for his part, cooperates, lowering himself slowly, watching as his fingers shake. He wraps his arms so tightly around his stomach he think he might leave bruises, but when the doctor touches him, he doesn’t flinch.

“There’s some bruising,” the doctor says neutrally, but Leo can’t look at the handler to see if he types it. It could be from the handlers, or it could be from Parker’s friends the night before. Leo chokes on his next breath, and in spite of the drugs, he can feel the panic rising.

“Leo?” the doctor says. “Are you doing alright?” 

The handler takes a step forward.

“I don’t consent to this,” Leo whispers, so softly he isn’t sure anyone hears him. The look the handler levels on him is scathing. “I–I kn…know it doesn’t… I know it doesn’t matter.” His voice is soft, slurred around the edges, but clear enough. “But I… I j-just– I want to make sure you know.”

The doctor says nothing, and the handler frowns. Leo wants to ask him to type it into his chart, but the doctor moves behind him, and Leo’s vision is suddenly and immediately blurred by his tears. 

By the time they finish, by the time the doctor drapes the blanket over his hips, letting his hand rest on Leo’s head briefly before retreating, Leo’s body is wracked with sobs. They leave him to calm himself down, and he finds himself, for a moment, grateful for the simple mercy.

But he cannot stop crying, as he stares into the mirror and thinks of all he’s lost. Of what, in spite of what he tried to convince himself he could have, he will never have. Of Parker, laughing with his friends as he picks out a new worker. Of the handler, and all those that came before him, smiling as they hurt him. The door opens with no warning and a familiar voice, a voice warm enough to burn Leo’s entire world down, issues a commanding, clear, “Stop this, Leo.” 

And almost instantly, Leo stops.

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[navstuffs]

"I know it is thick."

Pairing: Boss!Carlos Oliveira x GN!Reader

Summary: You send a text message to the wrong person.

Warnings: self-indulgent asf, crack/comedy, suggestive themes, carlos wearing the noir outfit, some swearing

Authors's notes: this is an ode to myself and miss tiffany "new york" pollard bc every time I see this man i murmur over and over again "i know he is thick. he is thick and i know it!" i bet i would send that to him on accident, so why not make it worse? bc hey that would me lol enjoy!! gif taken from google. @cerezzzita thank you for helping me with this idea bc the friend is based on you <3

part 2 | my carlos's masterlist

i know it is thick. i feel in it my core. it has to be. long and fat, thick. hitting all the right places 🥵

You hit send on the text message, trying to keep focus. You have been texting back and forth with your friend since your boss Carlos Oliveira decided to take off his suit jacket and roll his sleeves up. You have always been thirsty for your boss, he was extremely attractive. Today of all days, you are working closely with him on an important project, and he decides to show off his muscles and hairy arm like that. Your phone vibrates back with an answer.

Who is thick?

You blink, rolling your eyes. The attention span of your friend worked like that sometimes, although you have been talking about Carlos for a few hours now. You type back without even glancing at the name of the receiver.

my boss carlos, duh?

After you hit send, you receive a message from your friend with the gif from the Tiffany New York Pollard saying, "I know it is big." Wait a minute, you think. If you didn't send the first message to your friend, then whom? You practically freeze in your seat when you realize you sent it to your own boss.

"Shit," You groan, trying to delete the message. In your hush, you let your phone drop under your table, and you almost hit your head, trying to grab it. When you finally get your phone from the floor, you quickly glance at his office, and Carlos is already reading it. Shit. Shit. Shit!

You know you have no time to run into his room and stop Carlos from reading. So a few options: you could scream "Fire!" and make everyone evacuate the building in panic? Or run far away where HR couldn't find you to say you are being fired for sexual harassment? So you stay still, stuck in your chair, your eyes glued in Carlos's direction, expecting your inevitable fate.

Your boss reads the message, and you want to die when his eyebrows go up in surprise. He looks up from his phone, finding your stare, and you wonder if he can notice you are having a heart attack behind the desk. He types something, a small grin on the corner of his mouth, and turns his attention back to his big computer screen. And that is it. You are probably receiving the "You are fired, leave this building immediately" text in a couple of seconds. At least he would give you the dignity to allow you to leave, maybe calling security, not the police.

Your phone buzzes and you unlock it, the dread of having to find a new nice job that pays enough and keeps you well fed already killing you.

You blink one. Two times. Three times. You look up from your phone, your mouth drying and you can see Carlos has a big smile with his attention turned to his computer still.

Want to stay late and check?

[petalsonmoon]

if your cascade, ocean wave blues come

the three times you give each other peace.

part 2 of 3.

part 1 here.

wc: 2.1k

notes: thank you for the patience and for reading <3

and for the next 3 months, everything moved regularly slow.

you did your best in everything you put your strength in. you didn’t let the uncomfortable situation hold you back in getting better with mic and, granted, the results were appearing in your other life subjects.

you always did great in the theoretical part of school, always willing to learn new things and you had a saying you created yourself that was: all books eventually catch one’s attention. sometimes you gotta go through hell before everything gets interesting.

and accordingly, you put your name on the 3rd spot in your class raking.

you were proud of that.

In the span of those next months you trained with new faces. you made a good friendship with honenuki, growing to meeting each other after hours to not hold back in the sparing.

mic said that was a good idea. train with someone you didn’t know well to get habituated with the loud noises.

now, when it came to the exercises with class A there were interesting surprises.

the first one, happened 3 weeks after your encounter with bakugo, and unfortunately your group didn’t include him. and it’s not like you were looking for something here but that situtation you both had left you curious about the boy. for the particular reason that when you were feeling frustated and sad about yourself, his presence was a calming thought in that storm.

like. that was perfectly normal, right?

he didn’t ask why you weren’t at the presentation and he didn’t underestimated you for that either. and that’s all you wanted. to breathe peacefully and not being judged.

the second one, it happened 4 weeks after that. in spite of aizawa’s enormous lack of effort and energy to deal with professor sekijiro, they decided to unify the classes for the day and let the students review and establish in pairs how to manage their quirks whilst working with an unfamiliar sidekick.

you were incapable to control your wide eyes the second bakugo walked to you with heavy steps and serious eyes. some colleagues also noticed the strange occurrence and that made you a little unease. but you handled like the mysterious and confident person you pretended to be with him that day.

you held his gaze but you couldn’t fucking stop the sweat it was forming in the back of your neck.

because being honest, nothing really changed between you two, only a few exchanged glaces in the caferia but that was it. and being even more honest, class A was annoyingly famous around the school so you couldn’t (and didn’t have the balls) to approach the angrist boy in the faculty out of nowhere.

since the task was to be a sidekick you didn’t have to fight against him or anything, so you just took a sip of water and went on with it with your head held high.

bakugo was a handful with capital H but a brilliant leader, so it was a nice activity.

and you could really sense that each time it was an activity outside of your comfort zone, you were feeling less and less overwelmed with the noises. you were proud of that.

the training took practically the whole day and when everyone was tiredly getting back to the dorms, he passed by you. the bastard didn’t even look at you.

“meet me in the gymnasium in two hours.”

by the time the phrase is undestood by your brain, he’s already out of your sight.

but you already knew what it was going to happen. so, you went quickly eat some dinner, take a slow shower and mentally prepare yourself.

what is this feeling? excitement? nervouness? you tried not to look to closely at the tiny bit of giddiness also there.

when the time came you made your way to the gymnasium, trying to make your heart and brain settle down and as you entered the place you saw bakugo himself with his back to you getting ready.

you’ve seen him with those black tanks out and about from afar in numerous times.

getting a closer look of his perfectly broad back and designed bíceps made your brain and heart finally agree in one certain feeling.

that’s enough. he’s here to purely beat your ass.

you walk towards him and put your bag on the bench.

“took it to heart, i see.”

“no” he didn’t even look you.

“you’re kinda easy to work with” you admit swiftly as you start to get ready, taking your eyes off of him. “should make a great opponent as well.”

he grumbles in response.

“if you go easy on me i’ll walk.” you say.

and then you finally feel his eyes on you. “then don’t waste my time.”

and that’s how you had the most difficult practice of your life.

bakugo did not held back and you had to think ridiculously fast to survive every single insanely fast strategies he came up with. but you did not held back either and you’re very proud to say you put up with him for some good minutes before he won the match. the boy was almost number 1 of the entire school, you won’t minimize your efforts.

when it ended and you were on the ground he walked to you and offered his hand. and without saying another word you two spared again. and again. and again.

and it took you some time to get used to his explosions so near you but you think you could maneuver your reactions when you actually focused on learning his movements. you're not sure how he handles this loudness.

and he won every single time. but during fights you both were adjusting to how the other thought and moved. it was such an intense but pleasant experiment that you allowed yourself to comment to him your thoughts about his fighting, not judging nor imposing but simply a different point of view.

and you think you worded everything greatly because his eyes weren’t showing you an the usual amount of irritation and after a while he started to comment about you as well.

that was exactly 6 days ago.

right now, you were at the music room once again, sitting by the piano learning how to play twinkle twinkle little star through an app.

it was a choice you made after the festival and okay. not your proudest decision but it calmed you down when you needed. school is not easy and having a hobbie whilst wanting to become a hero is hard.

it was an inoffensive little bobbie.

you were think jingle bells was probably next.

you’ve been there for about 30 minutes when the door slammed open. they really needed to check it someday, people have not been gentle with it.

and you look up to find bakugo katsuki irradiating rage. it was clear he wanted to storm off to the couch he sitted last time but to your unfortunate it was close to the piano and he quickly stopped once he noticed you were in the room as well.

everything you knew about class A was from kirishima cause him and tetsu were strangely close. which is funny because he’s really close to bakugo too but you rarely talked to the blonde up until now.

well, you heard this week that class A had a very important evaluation today. the show-us-in-public-how-much-you-evolved-your-quirk-and-rescuing-people kind of evaluation. so this right now could be related to that information.

you tried to read in his expression if you’d be the target of whatever got him enraged but before you could analize anything he simply angrily sat and closed his eyes.

his irritation tugged something in you. a bit of impotence. you had no idea how to help him and you’re certain that ask him how is the absolute last option.

so you did the most reasonable thing. you look down and continue to play the piano.

twinkle twinkle little star.

if it helped calmed you down perhaps it did the same for him. the boy who smashed the drums. ha.

and for a fair 5 minutes that’s how you both stayed. once you thought you were beginning to understand how to differentiate the dozen of white sticks in front of you, you raise your head to find him in the exact position as before.

you don’t know him well but if you thought you did, you’d say the wrinkles around his eyes and the furrow between his brows seemed slightly relaxed.

“in the piano i’m better than you.” you say almost whispering and let out a chuckle. “ha!”

he shakes his head imperceptibly with his eyes still closed.

“you’re stupid.”

you play another verse of the one song you know on the piano before answering “i don’t think so.”

is that the ghost of a smile you see on his face?

“i can teach you.” you continue.

“absolutely doubt that.”

“you don’t trust me?”

he finally lowers his head and makes a face to you. a low and short grunt in response.

“oh no.” you shake your head “i thought we were past this. i swear i didn’t let you win when we trained. you won far and square, i promise.”

it was a single joke to lighten up his mood. you only intended to create a good and natural conversation but when you heard him snickering with a pinch of genuine laugh underneath it you wanted to make a few more jokes to keep hearing it.

“you’re stupid.”

“i thought we were past this too.”

“i’m gonna past you if you say that again.” his raspy but calm voice fills the room.

“i see you need a little more of twinkle twinkle little star in you.” you look down and start to play again with a surprising efficiency.

“for the love of god.” he looks up grunting.

“okay.” you stop playing.

you look at him again and his eyes are you. “learned this one today.”

“congratulations.” very sincerely sarcarstic of him.

“in half na hour. one note at of time” you add.

he grimace and you smile.

“just saying.” you add. you pass your fingers through the piano keys threatening to actually touch them. “do you consider yourself a good drummer?”

“i’m fucking great.”

you nod in response.

he raises his eyebrows for a millisecond. “how’d you know?”

now, that’s the tricky part. he doesn’t sound bitter or even rude. he’s completely neutral and you don’t know how to read this... challenge? audacity?

he noticed you weren’t at the festival and you know what he’s asking you now and you’re not sure how to continue the conversation. or how to take that in general

do you think you can handle how his view of you would probably change? if you’re confotable enought to share, does it matter? and surprising even youself, you think trust him to be honest without you getting hurt with him.

“are we caring about what the crowd says now?” your voice small.

“only the ones that don’t waste my time.” he replies just as careful.

well.

that was not good for your heart.

“let’s say” you start “i’m here learning an instrument. it’s not very different from why you’re here today.”

his brows immediately furrow “i think it is-”

“did we not” bold move interrupting him. “learn these instruments for the same reason?”

“careful.”

“and honestly-“

“aren’t you a honest person.” It comes out rough of him.

“this” you gesture lazily to the room. “it’s working for me.”

he is genuinely paying attention to what you’re saying. you don’t wonder if it’s because he’s getting angrier or you’re a easy distraction.

“at least that’s what i’d like to believe. i’m 3rd place in my class and i’m getting better... with everything else.” anxiety, you mean

he’s just staring and you keep going softly  “you’re practically top 3 of the whole school. and that’s a lot of pressure, i’d be terrefied.”

“yeah?” he hums.

“uhum.” red is a fucking intimidating color. “even the most powerful person in school needs a little bit of easiness. i hope this place helps you as it helps me...”

the last part comes out almost like a whisper. and you’re aware you’re talking too much but the boy already saw you sitting in a corner of this very room with ruined makeup. it doesn’t get worse or realer than that.

 “we just need to work on our control.”

then even his aura changes. he carefully tilts his head, daring you to continue.

“we?”

“don’t get me wrong-” you add.

“i’m not.” he hiss. shit.

“what i’m saying is...” you hesitate and push aside any warning in your head. and your exploding heart. “i don’t know you well, and i don’t want to assume. how could i know you from other peoples opinion?”

you can see him relaxing again. it’s very subtle. he’s not guarded anymore, so you take that in consideration. you start playing jingle bells in the background of your head to motivate you.

“but i come here to calm my mind and if you’re just like me... then you’re probably losing control of your brain too.”

you look down to your fingers and your breathing stabilizes. if you truly think about it, you were acutely more nervous about the fact of letting what you’re feeling out of you than him blowing your head out of you for what you said.

“are we psychoanalyzing each other?”

“no.” you shake your head “i just want you to enjoy twinkle twinkle little star with me.”

you want to look up but you’re scared.

“you know what i think?”

but with that you do look at him. he’s the softest he can be.

“that you are actually letting it control you.”

now, what the fuck.

how does he know things?

you’re the one with the furrowing brows this time. okay. he secret is always pretend you’re confident and in the control of the situation.

“oh bakugo,” you smile a little “are we friends now?”

“for a honest person you’re dodging a lot.”

goddammit. his aswers are always so quick.

“alright.” you compromisse “can we make na arrangement?”

“hm” that's all you got.

“every wednesday we train together after hours, that’ll help me” this part is true “and in return you’ll work on whatever makes you almost break the poor door everytime you come here.”

he was sending you a gaze that could blow you into atoms in the blink of an eye but you see that he thinks before answering.

“i'm not holding anything back."

him going along with you in this was enough as it is. "i'm not expecting you too."

"and then what?"

"then we meet at christmas and whoever is better will get a gift."

you bite a laughter when his response is rolling his eyes.

"like friends do." you add.

"i get it." he growls.

all of that leaves you with a sweet and fresh feeling. like when you're a little kid and you spend the day with your best friend of a week that is also your little crush that you don't know it's a crush cause you're too young and naive.

and that discovery doesn't ruin anything, cause you're a centered person. you're not expecting anything at all from this. having him as a friend is more than enough and you're grateful.

his phone seals the conversation when starts to ring but stops after he even got out of his pocket.

"fucking hate when they do that." he mumbles.

you look down again, not letting your mind twist.

"when i win and meet you in a month." he says very collected as he starts getting up "i'll need you to be very honest with me, got it?"

your whole body hair did not just went up with that. is he always like that?

"careful, bakugo." you hope you sound as nonchalant as him.

he's already by door when he answers you. "great. we have a deal."

he leaves closing the door more gently than you could.

[temperedink]

my favourite ACOTAR fic by authors not on tumblr

I wanted to give some love to stories that aren't often mentioned on Tumblr and don't get reblogged over and over because their writers don't have accounts here. (I also just want more people to read some of my faves and scream about them with me.)

A Court of Ash and Sunlight by aturner1205 (Elucien; complete)

This Elucien fic had me on the edge of my seat and making up wild theories while it was posting. (I was incredibly wrong in said wild theories.) Elain and Lucien start to get to know each other better when they both are mourning her father on his birthday, and she confesses to him that she's never felt their bond. They're getting closer, and then Lucien is sent off on a dangerous mission, there's an accidental pregnancy, and Koschei after the Archerons. Tons of twists and turns here!

Fury and Siren by hurricane (next-gen; complete)

Next-gen fics where the kids are already adults are sometimes a hard sell, but these two interconnected stories get you deeply invested in Nyx and his cousins (their parents are all still around too). The first one is Nyx and an Illyrian shadowsinger (hmmm...) who's secretly been avenging abused and clipped Illyrian females, and the second is Nessian's son Caden and the only female Darkbringer who's been sent to assassinate him. These boys are definitely their fathers' sons, with their charm and flirting, but their partners do not let them rest on their privilege.

I Miss You (When the Lights Go Out), I Want to Taste the Way That You Bleed, and I Am Done With My Graceless Heart by greenvelvet_couture (Nessriel; ongoing series)

Soooo much Nessriel smut that kicks off when Azriel returns from a mission injured and Nessian want to take care of him (physically first, then sexually). Also a lot about Nesta training her post-ACOSF powers and the dangers that go along with that. But the author is VERY dedicated to the smut, bless her. Part 2 has just started and picks up with Bryce in the Night Court.

A Long Way Down by becauseofreading (Nessian; ongoing)

This one is a tough read, but it does a beautiful job of showing the recovery process from trauma and a suicide attempt. Nesta is suicidal and has deeply convinced herself of her unworthiness. Cassian is taken to task for his treatment of her and the words he's levelled at his mate, and the Valkyries, Azriel, and Elucien rally around her as she tries to heal and love herself with proper therapy. Cassian is ashamed of his treatment of her and is allowed in to help her heal if he doesn't upset her.

Where You Used to Lay Your Head by loveL (Gwynriel; complete)

This one is a bit of a time mindfuck, so you have to just accept that the Archerons and the Valkyries were born much earlier than they were in canon. Sixty years ago, Azriel and Gwyn were happy in their secret 20-year relationship (the IC knew he had a partner, but didn't know who she was) when suddenly Gwyn up and left him. Now she's back in the Night Court with Nesta and Emerie after creating the Valkyries in the Day Court, and Azriel is finally going to try to find out what happened that made Gwyn leave and stay away for so long.

Forgive Me, A Court of Shadow and Smoke, and The High Lady, the Shadowsinger, and the Omega, Part 1 and Part 2 by darcyshandflex (Elucien, Azris, next-gen; ongoing)

This epic series starts with Elucien and explaining why Elain has avoided him for so long--but now she's ready to fight for him. In A Court of Shadow and Smoke, we have omegaverse!Azris finally getting together (Azriel's the alpha, Eris is the omega) and all of the emotional and political issues that causes. The final two parts span 30+ years with Azris raising their three girls. When the girls are adults, their future partners are discovered, and that has long-lasting impacts on multiple courts in Prythian. This one is still ongoing, and apparently the final part is going to be sad and I'm not ready for it.

And here are three writers I would have included on this list who have since gotten on Tumblr (I procrastinated on writing this post for THAT long, but they were on the original draft!):

A Little Bit of Light Reading by @infinitefolklore (Elucien; complete)

One of my all-time favourite ACOTAR stories that I have reread a bajillion times. Elain and Lucien are alone at the townhouse and start flirting, which leads to other things, including library sex, a sorta blood duel, a reconciliation, a solstice sex party in the Summer Court, PLUS a threesome near the end, as a little treat.

I Can Wait For You at the Bottom by MissFreakingFortune/ @missfckingfortune (Elucien; ongoing)

Listen, if you're not reading this super-sexy modern Elucien rockstar second-chance romance, I don't know what you're doing with your life. Elain and Lucien were high school sweethearts who had their lives together all planned out, until Lucien left to chase his rockstar dreams. Ten years later, he's returned home for Beron's funeral and once they're back in each other's orbit, they both can't stay away. Lucien is determined to win her back, but Elain is much more wary, even though the attraction is definitely still there. There's also a great big bro Eris, and Mama Vanserra finally has her freedom from Beron so she can maybe start something up again with hot French professor Helion...and also tell him about their child, who is also going to need to know about his true parentage.

Phoenix Rising by Vivienne1412/ @annaskareninas (Elucien; complete)

I need you to drop everything and go read this fic. Yes, NOW. No, I'll wait.

Beron has seized control over all of Prythian and has either killed or exiled all of High Lords and other powerful fae (Feysand and Nyx are in the Hewn City dosed with faebane everyday; Nessian escaped to Hybern). The humans have also gathered enough power that they're a dangerous threat to the fae. Elain has been working as a nurse for the fae resistance efforts, and her latest patient is the long-thought-dead Lucien, the only free heir of any of the High Lords. They go on the run to protect him, as there's a prophecy about him that makes him the last hope to defeat Beron and Autumn for good, and shore up support from the Continent to get a fighting force. This is an incredibly well-written fantasy story with crazy-high stakes and DRAGONS. Go read it.

[uweinei-02]

slipping by like sand (ONE-SHOT) ft. tsukishima kei

SYNOPSIS: his core belief is that everything is temporary, so when you change and reshape it, he could only end up getting attached. GENRE: angst, but not too angsty (you die) AUTHORS NOTE: i wanted to explore the idea of everything being temporary as a characters belief and immediately thought of kei.. i hurt my faves LOL also, i stole the first two-ish paragraphs off of a fic i wrote in like 2022 when i used to be into encanto. for so many reasons i'm not going to drop it (i'm embarrassed, which is the only reason).

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

crystalline silica, a common material that is found within the earth's crust, consisting of sand, dirt, concrete, and mortar. however, these in turn are also aspects of crystalline silica. all of which are ever so common, yet so small, small enough to pass through the never ending twists and turns of life and time. crystalline silica is able to withstand the erosion of natures course, however is somehow completely vulnerable to certain chemicals, ensuring its destruction. despite it being common, crystalline silica is known to be a hazard to everyone's health, being a cause of certain diseases and health issues when highly exposed to.

sometimes, tsukishima believes that he too is like sand. he flows through the fissures of time, akin to sand underneath the sea, flowing with the waves of the tide. he finds himself drowning and flowing through water, resting on the shore, sticking to people, falling, being temporary in different places and times. he learned to accept that everything was just temporary, that there would be an end to everything. so when it came to you, he wondered how you managed to change his entire perspective on life, and make it all come back within the span of 4 years.

his first and last visions of you were both polar opposites, in turn, you were also his foil, the opposite of him, someone that had the ability to challenge his beliefs. to challenge his very core values. even up until death, you still shook his very core beliefs.

when he first met you, you were both paired up on a project for japanese literature, studying the works of poets and deciphering the hidden meanings between each phrase. to you, everything and anything held meaning, while to him, only things that seemed to hold meaning held meaning. after all, he never naturally desired to try harder.

his second moment of you was when you had decided to go to the beach with some of your friends, coincidentally, tsukishima and yamaguchi were also there minding their own business. he had his headphones on, bobbing his head to the music while yamaguchi was simply sitting on the sand, admiring the view. you however, approached him greeting both him and yamaguchi with a smile. he tuned into his music, giving you a nod of acknowledgement as you begin to chat with yamaguchi. next thing he knew, he saw you running towards the water, waving to him with a smile, catching up to your friends. perhaps he wanted to take a photo of you, smiling to him as you looked back at him.

when he was with you, each moment felt fleeting. every moment that he had with you was temporary, so he wondered why you came back each time. why you came back to haunt him, over, and over, and over again. each moment with you made him question his core belief of everything being temporary. if everything was temporary, why did you keep coming back to him?

at some point, he watched over his shoulder, making sure you were still there with him and yamaguchi. he wold begin to look for you when you weren't there. he would check to make sure you were doing alright and would also make sure that you were doing your best. of course, he didn't know that he subconsciously let you into his life, and he knew damn well how you were temporary, how everyone was temporary.

after four years of becoming close friends, all three of you would constantly spend time with one another, making sure you all allocated time for one another even if there were club activities. all three of you expected to spend the rest of your lives with one another, never growing distant and always being friends even if one of you ended up living across the globe.

during those four years, tsukishima learned to accept the truth, that not everything is temporary. he learned to accept others because you alternated his beliefs and values. you managed to catch the sand holding him and placing him into a new environment. watching him change and become someone new, he embraced the change you provided for him.

he remembered watching you run towards the road, in a sense he felt that it was cliche, this was how everything ended. in each romance book one of them always died by being his by a car, he watched it hit you, your body flying and stopping in the middle of the intersection. he barely processed it, and only finally did when he heard the thud of your body hit the ground and the blood seeping out.

he remembered calling an ambulance, he remembered holding your hand telling, no, begging you to stay with him, begging you to wake up. he remembered being surrounded by people, so many people who came out of their cars to check on you, passerby's who were confused by the commotion. he remembered getting into the ambulance with you, he remembered all the machines that suddenly became part of you, machines that you had to rely on.

he vividly remembered watching you smile looking back at him as you ran to the sea at the beach, and he felt sick. he could only reach for your hand, asking you not to go, to wait, that you both still had your future with yamaguchi, that you still had the plans you three planned to fulfil with one another.

he remembered watching you get reeled into the emergency room, he remembered being forced to wait for you in the waiting room. he remembered holding his hands to his face in absolute anguish, begging some unknown god to keep you alive. he also remembered watching your parents barge in, tears streaming down their face.

oddly enough, he knew his prayers couldn't have been answered and he hated that. he knew you died upon entering the hospital, he knew when he felt your hand slip off of his, when your chest stopped slightly rising.

and for the first time in four years, he remembered that everything was temporary.

[barbielore]

I've mentioned before how, with the Barbie line now spanning 65 years, names have been reused for different characters - off the top of my head, the Barbie line contains both a Stacey and a Stacie, a Chelsie and a Chelsea, two different Ryans, either two or three different Nikkis depending on how you interpret the canon.

There are also two different Whitneys, which is the one on which I would like to focus today - mostly because I wouldn't have thought of Whitney as a popular enough name to see a duplication, and especially not a duplication so close together.

Whitney, friend of Barbie, first appeared in 1986 as Jewel Secrets Whitney.

I find this release so elegant for a playline doll; I actually love it. It also happened to come with a "24 page Whitney storybook" telling the story of how she keeps the secret that she is going to give Barbie an award for Most Glamourous Woman of the Year.

She appeared again as Nurse Whitney and Perfume Pretty Whitney in 1987, and Style Magic Whitney in 1988. That was the end of her appearances in the doll line in the US - but she made one final appearance in a European-exclusive in 1991.

But only three short years later, a new Whitney appeared.

This Whitney was much younger, being a friend of Barbie's athletic tweenage sister Stacie rather than a peer of Barbie herself. Although sometimes depicted with brown hair, this Whitney was more commonly redheaded, and frequently depicted with glasses.

Making her one of only a small handful of named, regular glasses-wearing characters in the doll line.

There's nothing particularly funny or untoward about a second Whitney, but given the short span between the releases, I do have to wonder... why didn't they just give young Whitney a different name?

[hellofanidea]

Number 8! BoB ship of your choice!

No. 8 - Loose change and headlights, Babe/Liebgott

Babe didn't know how long he'd been walking. Long enough for the last stretches of sunlight to dip and fade, the warm orange of the summer evening giving way to a vast swathe of black overhead. Long enough for the dimes in his clenched fist to go body-warm and sweaty in the pocket of his jacket.

There was no real direction to it, just a striding pace away. Away from the house, the street, the neighborhood, he grew up in. Away from all of the places he couldn't help but fear he had grown out of.

There was a phone booth on the next corner his feet took him, and Babe finally stopped. It took him a moment to come back to himself, to force his body to remember him and make it open the door and step in.

That was unfair.

That made him sound like he had gotten too big for them. In reality, he had shrunk, under the weight of an MG and a parachute harness, and three years of being steadily worn down by the worst of what humanity had to offer. Even his rosary felt heavy, bending his neck and hunching his back. He had taken his dog tags off the second he stepped foot back in his mother's kitchen, but he still thought he felt them bouncing against his chest sometimes too, the thin metal dragging him down.

Then the coins, sticky from his palm. They slid in one after the other, an almost unreasonable amount. He could have made it a collect, but that meant trusting the other end would accept it, and Babe didn't have the heart for that risk tonight. Besides, dropping the cost of a long distance call out of the blue didn't feel like the best opener.

Time stretched and condensed in the the span it took to give the operator the number and wait for the connection. A few cars passed, the beams of their headlights momentarily blinding Babe every time they turned by. He followed their paths, as if he could travel with them just by staring hard enough.

"What?"

As waspish as the answer was, as shitty the quality of the call, the voice bled all of the tension out of Babe's body instantly. He sagged forward around the receiver with what he hoped wasn't an audible sigh of relief.

"Joe?"

The line crackled sharply.

"Babe?" Liebgott hissed, incredulous and far softer than he had sounded a moment ago. "That you? Are you alright?"

Babe blew out another breath and tried to steady himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine, I just-" His voice caught, and he swallowed hard around the lump forming there. "I just missed you."

It shouldn't have been as hard to admit as it was. They had wound themselves together for a year, been through some of the worst things two people could experience at each other's sides. In Austria, drunk on gin and the promise of peace, Babe had grabbed Joe by his skinny hips and told him exactly what he meant to him.

Then they had come home with a continent between them and nothing but the occasional letter. A twenty minute phone call once in a blue moon. They had come home to ghosts and shadows and the lingering fear that they no longer belonged where they once called home.

Maybe that last one was just Babe projecting, but he would have bet money that Joe felt the same way all the way out in California.

More crackling static from Joe's end of the line.

"It's the middle of the night in Philly, Babe. Where are you?" He asked.

Babe closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the booth. This wasn't helping. None of this was helping. Everywhere he turned he was met with a dead end. Dead end job, dead end conversations, dead end of Bill's fucking leg that both of them refused to acknowledge long enough for them to just fucking talk-

"Still there, don't worry, I didn't do nothin' stupid," he sighed.

I wish I did, he thought, I wish I'd jumped a train like a bum and hitchhiked and actually hiked and was standing on your doorstep, good sense be damned.

The hand not holding the phone had started to cramp and lock up at his side, and he tucked it against his chest. When his hands had refused to cooperate in Bastogne, Joe had given him his gloves, rubbed his fingers between his palms to try and make sure the circulation was going until they unstuck. Babe ached for that now, snow and all, just to have Joe's hand in his, Joe soothing his pain and letting Babe shoulder some of his in return.

"I'm not callin' you stupid, I'm checking you aren't stranded in fuckin' corn country somewhere," Joe grumbled. Babe didn't say anything, just turned his cheek into the receiver like it was Joe's neck, like he could fold against him in silence for a while like they had on the ship home when it was too crowded for anyone to care. There was a long sigh, Joe pitching his voice lower. "Missed you too, kid."

It struck Babe through and through, hit him right where he was already cracking open, and he made a muffled noise of pain.

"Stay where you are," came Joe's hoarse voice, just as the pips started to signal the end of the call. "It'll take me a couple of days, but I'll come. I'll come getcha. I'm coming to getcha."

"Don't, Babe, don't," Joe begged, through what sounded like gritted teeth.

"'M sorry," Babe ground out. "'M sorry, Joe, I just can't take it. I thought I could, I thought everythin' would-"

His voice cracked. He bit the inside of his cheek to try and calm down, breathing hard through his nose and listening to Joe do the same.