#I have been rotating this fic in my head for a fucking year and now it's finally here in the open

[thewritingowl]

When Dick took over Tim's infiltration of the Ghost Investigation Ward, he thought he'd be coming out of it with a few files and maybe some information.

Instead, he left with a kid.

Now Dick finds himself trying to learn how to be a father all while helping his new son, Danny, overcome the trauma that he had been dealt by the GIW. It's a roller coaster of a ride, but thankfully Dick isn't alone. Danny now has a bunch of excitable aunts, uncles, grandparents, and even a great-grandfather all ready to dote on him. Dick is determined to give Danny the best life he can manage as he works to keep Danny safe from the myriad of forces that want to harm him.

[sunflowercider]

I.... I didnt think have lloyd whip a contract for the fake marriage. What the FUCK am I even doing.

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 1/2

summary: Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 1.3k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blood mention, knife mention, beer mention, Wade's fuckin horny and thirsty y'all, pining, cursing, claws, Wade is looking ✨respectively✨, crude humor and language, slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, no smut (yet, sorry)

a/n: AUGH DONT LOOK AT ME (actually please do I cannot hold this in any longer.) currently part one of two parts. posting the first one now as I am currently traveling for work and won't be back until beginning of September and then part two will be out when i either A. Get home or B. Finish it and format it in between running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Please be patient with me! I will not tolerate "whEreS PaRt Two?¿??" when I literally just told you. Hope y'all enjoy one of the many products of my brain rot. More to come in due time ✨

Not beta'd. Written on my phone and edited via gdocs. Post formatted on mobile because I don't wanna use my work computer lmao

Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

The abs are great. More than great, actually. In fact, they're all Wade thinks, dreams, and fantasizes about. All day, everyday, non-fucking-stop. The moment replays over and over in his fucked up noodle brain like a scratched record. He knows muscle memory is a thing, but what about salivatory memory?

Christ. He's gotta get a grip instead of getting hard.

But what about when Logan isn't flexing hard enough to rip his goddamn suit off?

Wade notices Logan becoming more relaxed around the apartment as the days pass. Adjusting to his new life, coming out of the bedroom earlier than he has to on days when he gets a turn to sleep on a real bed. It's Sofa City most of the time– which he really doesn't mind, he almost prefers it most of the time (since it's in clear sight of the front door) but Wade more often than not likes to insist they share his 'much-too-big-for-lil-old-me' twin XL mattress that's seen more stains than sex in the last year alone.

Logan's compromise is he'll take the bed and Wade the couch half the time. Alone. They're still working on the negotiations of said compromise, but the jury– Blind Al– is still out on recess.

Once he's more settled in, Logan learns that it's okay to kick off his boots and put his feet up. It's not often, but enough that Wade silently wishes he'd rest those big meaty calves on his lap instead. He's been needing a new weighted blanket and Adamantium-coated tibias and hairy legs are so in right now.

Logan doesn't know it, but Wade secretly plays 'ohmygodhetotallylookedatme' whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wade oggling at him in his peripherals. Wade can't help it when Broody and the Beast's ribbed white muscle shirt pulls taut against those deliciously plump pecs that he silently prays it'll burst off again. Or he'll rip it off. Or Logan will rip it off. For him.

A boy can dream.

It's especially hard to win at 'OMGHTLAM' when Logan accessorizes– AKA throwing on whatever flannel is in rotation out of the several he finds at the thrift store a few blocks over. Wade feels his throat tighten like his jeans do when Logan wears the forest green one. Really brings out his eyes.

And smile. And lips. And–

It's still summer, so on the hotter days, when sweat glistens on his brow and Wade desperately wishes to be the back of Logan's hand, the tank top comes off. All Logan's sweaty, gloriously muscular body has on is a wonderfully worn-in pair of jeans with the hem of black briefs poking out behind the denim waist.

Do they have AC? Yes. Because Wade would have to plan a funeral for Al if they didn't.

But when she's out and about, he likes to turn it off and let the New York heat wave run its course. Sure, it leaves him sticky and gross, but he'd rather be sticky and gross and hard when he can help it.

Luckily, Blind Al is gone for the whole weekend. Some girls trip or a drug mule job. Same difference.

Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

With the push of a button and a sprinkle of patience, Logan is splayed out on the couch in a matter of hours with a lukewarm beer in hand while fighting his eyelids from dozing off to some random war documentary. Sweat beads on his temples and there's a slight sheen to his skin from his biceps to the lower V pointing down to between his thighs. He chuckles every so often, mumbling things to himself between swigs of beer and shaking his head when the narrator gets something 'wrong.'

Wade busies himself in the kitchen but his eyes are permanently glued to his roommate. He doesn’t miss the way Logan's stomach rises and falls gently, the rock-hard six pack softening into rolling hills of muscle with a layer of dark hair covering as much surface area as immortal-like hormones will allow. Grown out beard, chops, and messy hair really throw the whole look together; very 2000s, if you ask Wade. His pecs look just as soft as a pair of titties, if not softer, and Wade knows it. He'd do anything to lay his perfect little head on Logan's chest. Maybe lick it too, if he's a good boy. 

Logan perks up suddenly from the couch.

Oh God did he say that out loud?

"Wade?"

Wade doesn't hear him. Can't hear him. Half-refuses to hear him, honestly. Daydreaming takes up a whole lotta brain power and this show isn't running itself. Economy, budget cuts, unprecedented times. You know the shtick. 

"Wade."

Nothing but a bead of drool comes out of Wade's mouth. 

Suddenly, there's a crash right behind Wade's head and now he's awake. He whips around to the ale-spattered wall behind him and back to Logan, who's now standing with claws drawn and chest heaving.

Wade swears he's blushing. 

Eyes wide and brow standing up straight like his good little soldier, Wade looks down at the counter before him to find a bloodbath of a scene: one hand's on a knife while the other spews blood all over the yellowed counter tops; there's remnants of a carrot that was finished five minutes ago, followed directly by remnants of fingers cut down to the last fucking knuckle and slice marks beginning down the back of his hand.

Wade holds up his spurting stump, gashed artery doing a spot-on impression of Ol' fucking Faithful.

"Oh. Huh. Thought I smelled something," he says, staring at his now-tingling hand. Baby fingers for the rest of the night were so worth the staring contest with Logan's beautiful body.

"Fuckin' idiot," Logan mutters, sheathing his claws and striding over to the hall closet to grab a towel. Wade's already stopped bleeding, but just because they might be immune to bloodborne pathogens doesn't mean Al is.

"Gah– get back, damn mutt." Logan shoos Dogpool out of the kitchen to prevent her from lapping up her papa's bodily fluids. He throws the towel in Wade's face and goes to grab the bleach out of the cupboard under the sink. Logan learned very quickly where to find it the first time this happened a month or two ago.

"Sorry baby, Mommy's got a boo-boo and Daddy's just trying to help," Wade coos at Dogpool. "You're too good to me, peanut. Someone oughta wife ya up before I do."

Logan responds with a scowl as he tosses the carrots out and tries to keep the counter from staining. "Why th'fuck did you do that?"

"It was time for a new hand. Old one was so last season."

Wade mops up the blood from his arm and wraps the towel onto his head like he's just gotten out of the shower. Holding up his regenerating stump, he poses like a cover model for Vogue.

"Whatcha think, peanut?" He strikes another pose. "Is this doing anything for ya, big boy?"

Logan grunts as he tosses a wad of paper towels into the trash can. He turns to leave the kitchen, eyes flicking to Wade. It's the quickest once over ever, but Wade sees it. Commits it to memory while he pulls a Flashdance in a chair from the kitchen table and follows Logan's denim-clad ass as it sways off to the bathroom. 

"'M gonna go shower. Don't wait up,” Logan calls before shutting the door and locking it. 

Sighing, Wade looks down at his crotch, pants tent pitched higher and tighter than a first-timer on Everest.

Good thing he's ambidextrous.

[liza-writes-jemily]

Fade Together

pairing - jemily x reader rating - g word count - 1.9k tags - fluff, getting together, wife!emily, girlfriend!jj, flirting, polyamory, consent conversations summary - Emily has managed to avoid meeting JJ for a year, but all it takes is a late morning and a punctual girlfriend. a/n - got some love on ao3, so i'm going to continue to crosspost this one. i don't want to retroactively crosspost my ongoing fics because that's honestly just too much work. i'm too lazy for that <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss, if you don't get your ass out that front door, you are going to meet a woman you've successfully avoided for a year.” You called through the open bathroom door. “JJ is on her way. I can ask her to wait in the car, but you will see her.”

“I'm going, I'm going!” Emily insisted, stumbling as she pulled on her boots. “I can make it, it'll be fine.”

“If meeting my girlfriend is ‘fine,’ then yes, it will be.” You argued. “Do you have your badge and credentials, or are they still in your blazer from yesterday?”

“Fuck, they're in my blazer.” She grumbled, digging through the dirty laundry to find it. “Why didn't I just put this in the safe?”

“You were too busy taking my clothes off.” You smirked. “And when I told you to put it away first, you told me, and I quote, ‘I cannot express how little I care about that right now.’”

“I hate you.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Okay, I'm going. I love you, have fun.”

“I love you, stay safe.” You kissed her quickly before she rushed to the door, retrieving her briefcase from the couch and her firearm from the safe on the way out. 

Your phone buzzed just as she opened the front door, and your eyes widened as you read,

JJ <3: At the door <3 

You dropped your phone on the bathroom counter and sprinted after her.

"Oh." Emily froze in the doorway, finding a tall, gorgeous blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman standing on her front porch. JJ. "Um, hi."

"Emily, it's nice to meet you." JJ held out her hand, a warm smile on her lips. "I'm-"

"Jennifer, yeah." Emily nodded jerkily. "Do you… She's almost ready. Do you want to wait inside?"

"I've never actually been in the house before." JJ tilted her head to one side, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Is that okay?"

"Right, the rule." Emily laughed awkwardly. "Yes, yeah, come inside. She's running late."

"Em, love, I'm sorry. I tried to catch you." Your socks slid across the hardwood floor, and you wound up with your arms wrapped around your wife's neck for balance. "Sorry again. Um, hi, Jen."

"It's okay." Emily's shoulders relaxed slightly. "I'm really late. I'll see you tonight, though, probably. We're the second team on rotation."

"I know the drill." You pressed a kiss to her lips, mostly running on autopilot. "Talk tonight?"

"I'll try to call if we catch a case. I love you." She kissed you one last time before she turned to JJ, her body stiffening. "Nice to meet you."

She was gone as quickly as JJ had arrived, and you stood in the middle of the entryway, frozen in place as you processed the quick series of events that left you standing in front of your girlfriend, your wife's lipstick staining your lips.

"Okay. That happened." You announced breathily, shaking your hands as if it would physically rid you of your shock. "Hi, baby." 

"Hi." JJ chuckled, wrapping her arms around your waist. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I wasn't opposed to you two meeting, I just didn't expect… that. I'm sorry, we overslept, and there was supposed to be enough time between her leaving and you getting here."

"Don't worry about it." JJ shook her head, wiping the smudges of Emily's lipstick from your face, but leaving the areas where it stained your lips a faint red. "I've seen pictures, but damn. Is she that hot all the time?"

"It's inhuman and insanely distracting. "You laughed. 

"Distracting is right. You remember how I said I was down if she was?" JJ asked. 

"Obviously, yes." You chuckled. "She knows, too."

"Good, because she's drop-dead gorgeous, like, heart-attack-inducing hot." JJ leaned her head back. "Is it weird that I'm kind of obsessed with her? I should show up early, now that we've met. Jesus."

"You're insane." You giggled. "Give me five minutes, and we can get out of here. Make sure you put things back properly when you're done snooping through my house."

"I'm not going to snoop!" She insisted. "I might look around a little bit. Maybe open a drawer or two." 

"Uh-huh. Have fun, Detective Jareau." You rolled your eyes teasingly before you rushed back to your bathroom. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Hey, love!" Emily called, dropping her keys into the bowl by the door. "Did you have a good date?"

"It was fun, yeah." You smiled, humming as she kissed you. "Good day?"

"Boring, so yes." She nodded, cupping your face in her hands. "You're so pretty."

"I love it when you come home all lovey." You giggled, pressing your lips to hers, threading your fingers through her hair. 

"I just love you." She shrugged sheepishly, and if you hadn't already married this woman, you'd do it right this second. "We do need to talk, though."

"I know. I was waiting for that." You sighed, falling onto the couch. "Lock up first, please."

She obliged, locking up her gun and her badge in the safe before she returned to you, her blazer shrugged off, leaving you in that white long-sleeve that teetered on the edge of inappropriate for work, low-cut enough to make you a little bit crazy. 

"So, JJ is nice." She settled beside you, cross-legged as she faced you, her arm draped over the back of the couch. 

"She is." You nodded. "How do you feel about having met her?"

"Different." She replied slowly, searching for the word to answer your question. "In a way I didn't expect."

"Is that.." Your eyes widened as you sat up straighter. "Is that bad?"

"I'm not calling it off, love. It's not bad." She shook her head, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

"Okay, then." You relaxed slightly. "Different how?"

"You look at her like you love her." Emily sank into the couch, her cheeks flushing lightly. "And she's insanely beautiful."

"I do love her," You murmured, brow furrowing. "We've talked about that."

"No, I'm not upset. It's not bad." Emily insisted. "She's gorgeous."

"I'm well aware." You chuckled. "What's going on in you're head, my love?"

"You told me once… She said she'd be willing to go out with me, right?" She picked at her cuticles, staring down at her hands.

"She did." You took her hand, effectively stopping her from tearing the skin, which, considering the fact that her nails looked wrecked today, was inevitable. "Are you considering that?"

"I am." She narrowed her eyes as she thought. "I don't know how that would work. I don't know what to do with it."

"Okay. First question, then." You adjusted your seating position until you were cross-legged, facing Emily. "Do you want to go on a date with JJ?"

"Yes, I do." Emily met your eyes, her shy smile only making the excitement in your chest boil over, unable to hold back the grin on your lips. "You're okay with that?"

"Very. I'm very okay with that." You laughed. "Do you want to date JJ separately?"

"Well, at first, yes." Emily mused. "Eventually, no."

"Really?" Your eyebrows shot up.

"You love her, and I love you. From what I do know about her, I already like her." Emily curled up into a ball, leaning her side against the back of the couch. "I thought it would be weird to see you with someone else, to see you look at another woman like you look at me, but it wasn't. It just felt right."

"It feels right with both of you right now, too." You pointed out. "We don't have to combine the relationships if you don't want to."

"I think I do, though." Emily sighed. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day."

"Thinking about what, love?" You asked gently, brushing her hair out of her face. It was rare that your confident, strong wife allowed vulnerability to make her feel small. 

"The way you two look at each other." She bit the inside of her lip. "The way you look in my shirts in the morning, the way she'd look in them, too. Kissing her, seeing her kiss you."

"You want all of it." You pressed a kiss to her lips. "I was worried you were just thinking about sex."

"Trust me, I thought about sex." Emily laughed, resting her forehead against yours. "But I do want it all."

"We can call JJ tomorrow if you want." You offered, pulling her into your lap. Emily didn't often allow herself to be held like this, and you were going to take full advantage of that.

"I'd like that." She hummed, burying her face in your neck.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Emily sat across the table from you with the small remote control fidget toy you'd given her, spinning the little wheel on the side so that she didn't pick at her cuticles. Your phone lay face-up in front of her, JJ's contact displayed on the screen, a selfie JJ had taken with you kissing her cheek as the profile picture. You had slid the device across the table, telling her she should call whenever she was ready. Emily's eyes fluttered shut as she took in a deep breath before she hit the call button.

"Hey, baby." JJ's bright voice flowed through the speaker like honey. "I thought you were with that gorgeous wife of yours today."

"I am, actually." You chuckled, watching as the corners of Emily's mouth turned up in a smile. "She's here, too."

"Oh." The rustling in the background stopped suddenly as JJ froze where she stood. Her crush on Emily was no secret, but confronted with the actual presence of the brunette, her mind went haywire. "Hi, Emily."

"Hello." Emily's eyes darted to you. "Um, we have a question for you."

"Sure, go ahead." JJ leaned her lower back against her kitchen counter, wrapping her free arm around her stomach, gripping the fabric of her shirt.

"Do you remember how you said that if Emily was interested, you'd be down to go out with her?" You asked.

"Vividly." JJ laughed breathily. "Is that what this is?"

"It is, yes." Emily nodded, as if JJ could see her. "It'd just be us. At least, at first."

"Oh, thank god." JJ's tensed muscles loosened. "I thought you were breaking up with me as a team."

"Aw, baby." You frowned. "I'm sorry we freaked you out."

"No, no, it's fine." She ran a hand through her hair. "Emily, are you free on Saturday?"

"I'm off-rotation this weekend," Emily replied. "Which is a yes."

"Perfect. I'll pick you up at seven. Dress casual." You could almost see JJ's smile widening.

"O-Okay." Emily looked at you, eyes wide. She was so used to taking charge, and JJ had done so without a second thought. "Yeah. I'll see you on Saturday night."

"Baby, will you give Em my number?" JJ asked. 

"Of course. I'll talk to you later. I love you." You threaded your fingers with Emily's across the table. 

"Love you, too. Bye." JJ grinned. "Bye, Emily." 

"Bye." Emily hit the red button on your phone screen, eyes moving as if she were reading a book while she processed the interaction her mind had gone practically blank during. 

"You good?" You squeezed her hand. "You're usually the one who plans things. You like control. She can take a step back if you want, just ask her."

"No, I'm good." Emily shook her head. "I usually hate it when other people do all of the planning. I don't right now."

"JJ's something else, isn't she?" You chuckled. 

"She very much is." Emily nodded. "Thank you for doing that with me, love."

"I'd do anything for you. You should know that by now." You rolled your eyes teasingly. 

[littlemisslol-fic]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65925274

Hello, I Love You (Won't You Tell Me Your Name?)

Dr. Ivo Robotnik does not need a babysitter. He is a genius. He has five PhDs. He does not need some government idiot looming over his back every second of every day, nor does he want one. When digging into the newest of Walter's sacrificial lambs, he finds something interesting. The previous agents assigned to Robotnik, while all having their own redacted parts in their files, had maybe a fifth of the ink coating Agent Stone’s. Robotnik can’t help but marvel at the number of things hidden. And, wildly, enough, how Stone’s first name is one of them.

First fic in a new fandom let's gooooo--the toxic old man yaoi took over my brain idk what happened

Title from Hello, I Love You by The Doors

Read on AO3 [Here]

Doctor Robotnik is just about at his limit with GUN’s pitiful excuses for agents.

Well. He was at his limit the first time Walters dared insist that he needed a babysitter in the first place, but with every meat-headed ape sent his way that already thin patience pulls all the tighter. He is a genius. He has five PhDs. He does not need some government idiot looming over his back every second of every day, nor does he want one. But Walters, that senile old fuck, had insisted, and thus the in-and-out rotation of bodyguards had begun.

Oh, for a while it was fun to send them packing. To scream and insult and throw things until even the most stoic of agents had run from the lab in a fit of tears. Gave the Doctor a well placed sense of pride to know that he could snap the best of the best over his knee without much effort.

But after a while even that had gotten boring. Enough that all that was left was a deep-rooted offence at having someone in his goddamn lab. When the last one had run out on a Friday afternoon, her hair on fire and her eyes spilling over with tears, he’d hoped that she would be the last. Surely Walters would take the hint soon—it had been over three years of this, he must be running out of meat for the grinder by now.

Alas. Robotnik shows up at his lab at seven am the following Monday and hisses at the sight of Walter’s suit-jacked back in front of his desk. Fucker. He’s so furious that he barely registers a second man standing in the lab, instead barrelling right for the person he knows is the cause of the headache steadily building in his skull.

“Walters,” Robotnik greets with barely contained venom, “what could you possibly want this early in the morning? Don’t you have some tax dollars to be wasting? Why stop short of throwing them in the Hudson?”

To his credit, Walters only frowns. “Doctor, good morning. After your performance on Friday, you may be unsurprised to learn that Agent Stannic has turned in her resignation.”

Oh, so that was her name. Whatever, irrelevant. Robotnik flashes a smile which only make’s Walters’ frown deepen. It makes the wrinkles on his forehead super pronounced, what an old clown.

“Well. She had a good run. What was it, three weeks?”

“Two.”

Ha. Hilarious! Robotnik’s face must convey his distinct lack of dismay; Walters’ nose curls and he looks at Robotnik like a disappointed grandparent. Not that he would know: he has no parents and decidedlyno grandparents to speak of. But this is what he assumes they would look like.

“But because of that we’ve had to find a replacement. Again.” Walters continues like he isn’t signing some poor guy’s death warrant with the fact. Not that either of them care much; they’ve been doing this dance for far too long for it to matter anymore. Walters sends agents in, Robotnik sends them back out. Give and return, endless. Like atrophy. Only Robotnik seems to acknowledge the futility of it.

“I’d like to introduce you to your new head of security,” Walters waves the latest schmuck forward. The Doctor had nearly forgotten he was there–as is, the guy looks like one of the most NPC fuckers to ever set foot in the lab.

Basic.

“Agent Stone,” the guy says. His voice is a smooth timbre. He holds his hand out like he expects a handshake, for Robotnik to play nice. How very pedestrian.

Boring.

“Didn’t ask, don’t care.”

Stone’s hand hangs awkwardly for a second more before dropping. Good. At least he’s not totally brain-dead. Though, from the way his stupid, basic face doesn’t seem to change at the obvious insult—that designation may yet change. Whether it’s due to Stone not caring, or the jab failing to land, is up for debate. Probably the latter. Robotnik doesn’t have much faith in the vacant brain of the man in front of him.

“Fair enough, sir. Either way, I look forward to working with you.”

Bland.

Robotnik doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead he turns on his heel and stalks to his computer, flopping down into his chair and opting to get started on his day. Stone will be one more tally on the list of agents removed from his service within weeks; no point caring beyond that.

He hears Walters mutter something. Stone says something back, which causes the old man to laugh. Bastards, all of them. Government goons, brain-dead and bothersome, loyal to the concept of an idealized America while ignoring the one that actually exists.

Whatever. This new agent will be gone soon enough, just like the rest. Robotnik has always been rough with his toys. It will only take time before he breaks this one too. That’s all.

Just time.

>>><<<

Stone soon proves to be a tough egg to crack. Tougher than the rest, surprisingly, as they draw to the end of six months working together. Somewhere along the line he’s become part of the furniture, a working cog in the Doctor’s carefully crafted machine just as the Badniks are. The Doctor’s still not sure if he’s alright with this new development—but it’s not without its perks.

“Amazing, Doctor,” Stone marvels at the latest additive to Robotnik’s growing army. A more stealthy version of the original Badnik design, quieter, smaller, and with a basic cloaking program to ward off prying eyes. It rather reminds him of Stone, to be honest. Nothing fancy, but scarily efficient.

V3-R4, freshly painted and ready for her test run, hovers between them. She’s still in need of calibration, but he can leave that to Stone. For now, the more rudimentary tests can be done without such hassles.

“Only the best for good ol’ Uncle Sam,” Robotnik shrugs. There’s no need for Stone to know about his more secret agendas; world domination, while on the back-burner, is always in the cards. Once GUN runs out of usefulness, of course. Maybe when the funding dries up.

V3-R4 lets out a little chirp as she circles Stone, scanning him. The Agent patiently stands still and lets the bot do its thing. The red scanner pings once it’s done, displaying a holographic projection of Stone’s employee file.

Stone claps in glee, gentle and smiling wide. “Wonderful,” he coos at the Badnik. “Aren’t you a smart little thing?”

“Just like her daddy,” Robotnik boasts. He scans across the file, noting how much younger Stone looks in his employee photo, and zeroing in on the amount of blacked-out text there seems to be. He lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Stone, you’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you?”

“Hm?” Stone’s still caught up in petting V3-R4, not looking. Idiot. Robotnik takes the time to pull the projection from V3-R4 over to the main computer, still scrolling. There is so much blocked out it’s almost concerning. The previous agents assigned to Robotnik, while all having their own redacted parts in their files, had maybe a fifth of the ink coating Stone’s. Robotnik can’t help but marvel at the number of things hidden.

And, wildly, enough, how Stone’s first name is one of them.

He skips that fact for now. It’s nothing he hasn’t technically seen before, after hacking Walter’s computer for dirt on Stone the first week of them working together. Standard, at that point, to go snooping on each new agent assigned to him—but he’d only skimmed it all those months ago. Now this wasn’t some nameless agent in a sea of same-y faces.

Now this was about Stone, the man who’s faithfully served the Doctor for half a year. The same man who coos over the Badniks like they’re actual pets. The man who makes the best lattes Robotnik has ever had in his life. The man who keeps the lab spick-and-span despite Robotnik’s insistence on chaos.

No longer faceless. No longer a cog in the government’s machine. Now he’s swung close enough to enter Robotnik’s orbit, and that makes him special. And that makes his blocked out file more than a curiosity. It makes it a mystery.

“Doctor?”

Ah. Fuck.

“What? I’m busy thinking. Something you could do more of, you cretin.”

Stone only pauses. The insults never stick, sliding off Stone like water off a duck’s back. Before it had pissed Robotnik off to no end—now, it’s more of a relief. No eggshells between them.

“Would you like me to start making lunch now that V3-R4 is functional? I was thinking tacos?”

Ooo, tacos—NO, don’t get distracted!

“Riddle me this, my boneheaded barnacle,” he says instead. “What, exactly, would cause your file to look like this?”

He throws a hand up to the screen. Stone looks, puzzled for a moment, before clicking his tongue.

“This is my GUN file, doctor,” he says, like that explains anything. At Robotnik’s silence, he continues, “When I was transferred from CSIS to GUN they only were given the basic information. A lot of it is under national security.”

CSIS… which fucking country is that—wait—

“You’re Canadian?” Robotnik spits it like a slur. Because what the fuck?

Stone only shrugs. “I thought they told you. GUN is based in the UK, Canada’s part of the commonwealth. There’s a lot of collaboration—”

Robotnik’s brain is going to start eating itself. “Ap-bap-bap-bap-BAP!” he snaps, “give me the maple-flavoured file then, make it snappy.”

“I uh. I don’t have access to it, sir. I think they destroyed it when I transferred out.”

Fuck. Those poutine loving assholes.

Robotnik stews a little more, slouching in his chair. Stone merely lets him be, vanishing into the lab kitchen to start on the aforementioned lunch, while Robotnik types his way into undermining the Canadian Government’s online filing system. True to Stone’s predictions, any mention of the man is long gone. He’s been with GUN at least five years now, plenty of time for the Canadians to assume he’s not coming back.

Which he won’t be. Stone is barely even GUN’s now; he’s Robotnik’s agent and the Doctor isn’t letting him go any time soon.

But as he stares at the blocked out bar in the FIRST NAME box, he can’t help but wonder. When Stone comes back an hour later he’s still staring, still thinking.

“What is your first name?” Robotnik asks the air as Stone carefully puts a plate down on the desk next to him. Robotnik snatches a taco and shoves half of it in his mouth, trying not to look excited. Damn, these are good.

The Agent blinks at the question. “Mine?”

“No, the other idiot in the room with us.”

Stone only smiles faintly at the jab. There’s a split second of silence before the man finally responds.

“What’s yours?” he asks, which—hey! That’s not fair! When Robotnik splutters, spewing taco bits everywhere, Stone manages to vanish back into the kitchen with V3-R4 hot on his tail. Bastard. It’s only once he manages to choke back the taco in his lungs that he realizes that Stone hadn’t answered his question. He turns back to the monitor and grumbles.

Interesting. Further research needed.

>>><<<

For a while he’s content to let the mystery lay dormant.

Two years go by faster than a blink. Somehow Stone becomes much more than a cog in the machine—he becomes vital, almost as important to the lab’s functioning as the Doctor himself. Somewhere along the line they grow so comfortable with each other that it becomes hard to tell where Stone ends and the Doctor begins.

He should be more concerned about how close Stone has gotten. He should be wary, should keep the man under surveillance and make sure he’s not running back to Walters with Robotnik’s secrets, or to the Russians, or whoever the fuck else would pay top dollar for the little bits floating around in the lab. He should be paranoid.

Should be.

But he isn’t.

“Hammer,” Robotnik grunts, holding out a hand without looking. The weight of the hammer’s handle slaps into his palm not a second later and he can continue without interruption. He gently taps a wayward bracket back into place before holding the hammer back out. It vanishes from his hand the same way it came.

With the bracket peeled back he can finally get to the problem of the day—a badnik had taken a rather nasty hit during a recon mission, and had knocked her circuit board lose. Silly little thing. Robotnik clicks his tongue at the sight of the circuit board hanging freely in the shell and carefully moves it back into place.

“Flux.”

A practised hand that isn’t his darts in and runs a thin paintbrush of flux along the broken joint. Excellent.

“Iron.”

The soldering iron is considerably lighter. No slap. Just gentle pressure of weight. If he weren’t wearing his control gloves their fingers would have brushed. The hand returns and takes over holding the circuit board, gentle and precise. With both hands free Robotnik is quick to snag the rolled up soldering metal that lays next to him. He holds it lightly and runs a thick bead of solder between two components. Easy-peasy.

“That should do it,” he says, leaning back and cracking his spine loudly.

“Excellent work, Doctor,” Stone agrees. The agent moves his hands back from where they’d been holding the circuit, smiling widely. “She looks good as new.”

His assistant is perched on a stool next to Robotnik’s office chair. He’s as at attention as one can be, looking more like a schoolboy than a government attack dog. If Robotnik were a more sentimental man he’d even call it endearing. As he is, it’s more just cursory than anything.

He snaps the maintenance panel back into place and powers the Badnik back on. She runs through her BIOS with a series of clicks and whirs before finally beginning to float once more.

“Good morning, baby,” Robotnik coos, “did you have a good nap?”

The Badnik chirps again, flipping once and displaying a heart in her iris. Adorable. Stone makes a suitable noise of affection at the antics, especially as the Badnik approaches him for the customary pets. He does so easily, happy to provide.

But that is the crux if it, isn’t it? Stone is always happy to provide. Happy to make lattes, and lunches, and pass the doctor his tools for hours on end. In return all he’s ever asked for is a place to set his coffee machine and the allowance to bring in a few snake plants to liven things up. He treats the Badniks with the same care that Robotnik does. He calls them she, same as Robotnik. Hes essential. He’s important.

And it’s then that the Doctor realizes how deep in shit he actually is.

Because there is so much that he doesn’t know about one Agent Stone. He hadn’t known he was Canadian. He does know Stone’s favourite colour (purple), but not where he went to school. If he went to school at all. He knows what the man takes in his coffee, but not his first name. Robotnik knows so much about who Stone is, but functionally nothing about who he was. How he got where he is.

“I’ll start putting away the tools,” Stone says somewhere to the side. Robotnik feels a quick kiss pressed into his hair, light and casual, before the presence of the agent wanders away with an armful of assorted tools.

Ah. Yeah that was another added element that Robotnik hadn’t accounted for yet. Sue him for being a lecherous old man, or whatever—his assistant is a hot piece of very consenting ass, and Robotnik isn’t about to pass that up. However that does throw the gaps in his Stone-Lore knowledge in an even worse light. Sure, they’ve been regularly engaging in a situationship for well over a few months now, but fuck if Robotnik can tell you anything about the guy beyond the surface level.

Stone returns and cuts the brooding short. His smile lights up the room as it always does, so shiny and bright, that Robotnik can’t help but return it. The Badniks chirp, floating around Stone and demanding attention. He’s not sure when they became as attached to Stone as their creator, but by god they’d managed it.

“Sir?”

Shit, caught staring.

Robotnik only blinks, like he’d meant to get caught. “I’m wondering something,” he says. Stone tilts his head like a confused puppy. God damn it, it’s like he was built in a lab to be frustratingly endearing.

“What is it, Doctor? Can I help?”

A million questions flit through Robotnik’s mind, fast as lightning and twice as bright. Who were you before this? How did you learn to do the things you do? Where did you come from? Why are you still here, staying with me? What were you like as a kid? What are your hobbies? Fears? Dreams?

And, most damningly of all:

What is your first name?

They all press against the back of his teeth, demanding. Begging. But Robotnik doesn’t grant them freedom, instead only pursing his lips and settling his face into its normal, sour frown.

“Probably not,” he says snidely, “It’s to do with the sound canon from a few months ago. Wondering if I should have upped the frequency for maximum hearing damage in the victims.”

Stone’s face falls into a similarly ponderous expression. “I’m sure you had your reasons, Doctor. Too high a frequency would add to the potential for friendly fire, after all.”

That is, in fact, exactly why he’d made that choice. His sycophant isn’t as brain-dead as he’d feared, all that time ago. A thing Robotnik finds himself quietly thankful for. It’s a refreshing change to have someone that, while he may not be totally able to keep up, is at least able to ride the waves behind the Doctor’s genius without trouble.

It’s less an correspondence and more a synergy. A tandem.

Partnership.

Fuck. Fuck, he’s losing his goddamn mind!

Robotnik peers back to his desk, to the next project. He needs to get himself together; no amount of handsome agents or perfect lattes will ever change that their situationship will remain just that. His mind, as fixated as it is, must be reeled in and calibrated.

Stone’s still thinking about the sound canon. It’s obvious in the way he bites at his lip and tinkers with a loose screw on the desk.

“Remind me next time to double the damage,” Robotnik says finally. “I want to see those worms squirm, regardless if the idiots firing it can’t keep out of the way.”

Stone’s smile is blinding.

“Of course, Doctor.”

Fuck.

>>><<<

Early mornings in the lab are more than a little dangerous.

Robotnik only just rouses at the feeling of warmth leaving his bed. Most of him is content to continue to doze, soft and serene in the space between sleep and consciousness, but the lack of a familiar body next to him is enough to keep him from slipping back into sleep.

He stays a while longer, chasing the last dredges of Stone’s body heat, before the smell of cooked bacon wafts into the bedroom and finally convinces him into leaving the warm comfort of the bed.

Stone’s probably been awake for a while; usually the man hits the GUN employee gym first thing before making breakfast. Robotnik must have been more tired than he thought if he slept in that long. Ah, well. It’s a Saturday, technically they’re on overtime regardless. Best part of leading your own department of two people—you’re in charge of your own schedule to the bitter end.

The kitchen smells amazing when Robotnik enters. True to prediction Stone is dancing his way through making breakfast, the sizzle of bacon and french toast well underway.

Six years of knowing each other (four of which had seen their situationship develop into such smoochy feelings that could only be called love) had seen them well. Stone’s just as perfect as he was the day Robotnik met him.

Robotnik drops down into his chair. It creaks ominously under his thrown weight. A perfectly crafted latte appears under his nose, set forth by Stone. It has an adorable little drawing of Robotnik’s tired face in it, complete with an Ebeneezer Scrooge type night cap. If this is how Stone sees him, it’s a wonder the man can get out of bed at all.

Sometimes he wonders about that. How Stone sees him. The man’s never faulted in his loyalty, nor his devotion, no matter what kind of scenario they find themselves in. Robotnik knows how he sees Stone, resolute and solid, but…

They don’t even know each other’s first names.

But what are names in place of six years of devotion? Of over half a decade of partnership? What does it matter that he doesn’t know Stone’s first name when he knows the man better than he knows himself?

Robotnik sips at his latte. Does Stone care? Should he?

His sycophant whistles quietly at the stove. Stone’s always so happy in the kitchen, messing around with his recipes to his heart’s content—Robotnik knows he must look the same peering into the guts of whatever mechanical bastardry he’s bringing to life that day. The joy of unleashed passion. Or whatever.

Stone scoops the last piece of french toast out and sets it on a plate before sliding the pan over to an unused burner. He sets the plate, stacked high with delightfully fluffy breakfast delights, down on the table along with a bottle of real maple syrup. Robotnik hadn’t known there was such a thing as fake maple syrup, but apparently having a Canadian in the house came with a very vested interest in the authenticity of breakfast sweetener.

He’s getting off topic.

His agent presses a kiss to the side of his head again. The man sits down as they finally start to eat. It’s sickeningly sweet. Just like Stone, really. God, he really is down bad as the kids say.

Because Stone’s… everything. He’s the floor beneath Robotnik’s feet, the sky above his head. The wind in his sails and the fire in his heart. All consuming, belonging to Robotnik in a way no one ever has. For all Stone is the verbal one about his adoration it is decidedly not one-sided.

And perhaps it’s because it’s early. Perhaps it’s a lapse in judgment. Perhaps it’s some misfired synapse in his brain, but before Robotnik can stop himself he’s opening his mouth and breaking the comfortable quiet between them. Stone’s voice echoes in his mind.

What’s yours?

“Ivo,” he says suddenly, impulsively.

There’s a pause in the air. Stone’s hands still from where he’d been spooning cubed cantaloupe onto his own plate. His brown eyes are narrow for a moment, before widening in realization.

“Sorry, Doctor?”

Robotnik swallows past the lump in his throat. “Ivo,” he repeats. “My first name is Ivo.”

Stone blinks rapidly. Cataloguing the information, committing it to memory. There’s a split second where Robotnik worries—about what, he can’t tell you—but it’s quickly dispelled as Stone leans over and presses a soft kiss to Robotnik’s cheek.

“Ivo,” he purrs. It’s a good thing the Doctor is sitting, as his knees immediately turn to jelly. Stone only smiles, keeping close to Robotnik’s ear. His voice is borderline sultry, seductive. “Nice to meet you, Ivo,” he coos, “my name is Aban.”

Aban.

Somewhere in the back of Robotnik’s brain, a puzzle piece slides into place—but it’s more than that. A warm flutter builds in his chest, one he’s only really felt when Stone cracks right through his walls and offers such trust and love that it sets Robotnik’s entire chest on fire. The feeling of being trusted, inexplicably, with a secret piece of Stone not meant for anyone else.

Aban.

It suits him. Water, clarity, lucid. Fluid and ever adaptable, yet steady enough to wear down even the strongest cliffs. Collected and focused. Yes, it suits his agent very well. Robotnik meets Stone’s grin with one of his own.

“Aban,” he says. Stone, minutely, shivers. Excellent.

“Ivo.”

“Aban.”

“Ivo.”

For some reason they start to giggle. Stone presses another kiss to Robotnik’s cheek, more sappy than before. The Doctor is quick to snag him by the chin and pull him into a proper kiss, one that’s worthy of the man in front of him. He tastes like cantaloupe and cinnamon sugar.

When they finally break it’s easy to sink back into his chair. Stone’s watching him through his eyelashes, carefully casual. Something in Robotnik’s chest settles, a puzzle solved, a piece slotting home. Just another string to tie them together.

And, in another four years, when they’ve finally given up the trappings of the American government and struck out on their own path, shed the skin of propriety and adopted the cloak of evil deeds, Ivo is happy to be the first to sign their marriage certificate.

Full name and all.

[formulafanfics13]

All Eyes on Me - Chapter 7

Masterlist || Latest Poll

Disclaimer:

This fanfic will contain mature themes and topics (smut, abuse, power imbalance, drug use, alcohol dependency, control, and eating disorders). There will not be warnings throughout, so if you proceed with this fic, please bear this in mind!

9:03 AM. Victoria's Secret Headquarters, New York. The boardroom smelled like anxiety and too much rose-scented air freshener.

Martha was the last to walk in. Flawless, of course. Oversized sunglasses. A long beige trench thrown over a black mini-dress that clung to her ribcage and nothing else. Her coffee was still hot. Her face was unreadable.

Gigi already had her legs up on the table. Taylor was chewing on a mint like it might explode. Barbara had her phone open, eyes scanning headlines. Lila was asleep in her hoodie with sunglasses on, curled into one of the armchairs like a stoned kitten.

The table was glass. The chairs were white leather. The lights were too bright.

Julia Thorne stood at the head of the table in four-inch patent heels and a silk blouse that probably cost more than most people's rent. She smiled like a shark with Botox. "Morning, Angels."

"Kill me," Barbara muttered.

"I haven't had coffee," Gigi added.

Taylor waved her mint. "This is my breakfast."

Lila groaned from under her hoodie. "I was in Ibiza eight hours ago."

Julia ignored them. "We're here because I have incredible news."

Martha sat, slow and deliberate, removing her sunglasses with one hand and raising her brow like she was in a court deposition.

"We've been approached by a strategic partner," Julia continued. "The biggest campaign of the year. Maybe the decade."

Paul Williams, standing in the corner in his usual all-black outfit and terrifying stillness, didn't blink. Karen Smith stood beside him, arms folded, clipboard in hand, ready to start body-shaming the second this meeting was over.

"It's Formula One," Julia said brightly. "We're launching a crossover campaign."

Dead silence.

Gigi blinked. "Like... the cars?"

Julia smiled wider. "Yes. The drivers. The sport. The global audience. It's called Wings & Wheels."

Taylor dropped her mint.

Lila sat up, suddenly wide awake. "Wait, what?"

"It's already signed. Already launched. This is history."

Martha stared. "What the fuck are you talking about," she said, voice low, flat, lethal.

Julia clicked a button on the remote. The screen behind her lit up.

Victoria's Secret x Formula One

Five faces. Five bodies. Five angels. And beneath them, in full glossy colour-five teams, ten drivers, one season-long campaign.

Gigi stood up. "No one told us. No one asked."

"It's already public?" Barbara snapped.

"Yes," Julia said smoothly. "The press release went out three minutes ago. And your social media numbers are up 38% across platforms."

"I don't give a fuck about engagement," Taylor sighed, standing too now. "This is insane."

"You signed contracts," Paul finally said, voice flat and cold.

"Not for this," Martha shot back. "Not for Formula fucking One."

Julia kept smiling. "This is about empowerment. Visibility. Female strength. You'll be partnering with teams to bring femininity into motorsport spaces-"

"I don't even have a fucking driving license," Lila cut in.

"There will be photographers. Paddock appearances. Charity galas. Press conferences," Julia continued, steamrolling.

Karen checked her notes. "New fitness plans start tomorrow. Core conditioning. Resistance circuits. Heat tolerance prep. We'll be rotating you into travel cycles by Monday."

Taylor was pacing now. "This isn't modelling. This is military."

"You'll each be assigned to two teams," Julia added. "Pairings have been made based on brand synergy, lifestyle compatibility, and schedule availability."

Gigi barked a laugh. "You mean we're being handed out like fucking PR candy."

Barbara looked at Martha.

Martha hadn't moved. She was just staring at the screen.

Julia clicked again.

Martha Jones – Mercedes + McLaren Gigi Hadid – Williams + Sauber Barbara Palvin – Ferrari + Haas Taylor Hill – Alpine + Aston Martin Lila Moss – Red Bull + VCARB

The room erupted.

"Mercedes?" Gigi said to Martha. "Fucking Lewis Hamilton?"

"Why the fuck am I with Red Bull?" Lila asked. "I don't even drink it."

"I'm gonna kill someone," Taylor muttered.

Barbara sat down, hard. "Ferrari and Haas? That's like getting Dior and then Walmart."

Martha still hadn't spoken.

Gigi looked at her. "MJ?"

Martha blinked once. Then finally said, "This is punishment."

Julia cocked her head. "How so?"

Martha stood slowly, folding her sunglasses in her hand like a weapon. "Because I'm not controllable anymore. Because I've been difficult. So now I'm being paraded."

"It's for a good cause."

"No," Martha said. "It's for coverage. It's for spectacle. It's to keep the narrative alive so no one asks the real questions."

Julia paused. "What questions?"

Martha stared at her. "Like why you're dressing up a trauma machine as a charity campaign."

"You'll be travelling with them," Julia was still talking. "There will be private jets. Shared interviews. Some of the drivers have already expressed excitement. Very professional, of course."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "You mean they're jerking off in the group chat."

Taylor looked at her. "Are we allowed to say no?"

Paul stepped forward. "Say no and the press will say you're ungrateful. Say no and we'll invoke the clause."

"What clause?" Lila asked.

Karen smiled, terrifyingly sweet. "The one about compliance. Media cooperation. Brand loyalty."

Martha looked at her phone. One new notification.

@lewishamilton followed you

She closed the app. Looked up. And smiled. "Fine."

Julia blinked. "Sorry?"

Martha repeated, louder this time. "Fine. Let them think they're getting angels." She picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and walked to the door. "We'll show them what angels really look like."

The door clicked shut behind the last heel. The air in the room shifted. Gone were the girls, anger trailing in their wake like the scent of perfume and fire. Gone was the facade. The slogans. The fake empowerment.

All that remained was the team.

Julia Thorne straightened her blouse and exhaled through her nose like she'd just finished her morning yoga. Karen was already jotting notes in tight, brutal handwriting. Paul leaned back against the window, arms folded, like a bouncer waiting for the next excuse to snap.

"Well," Julia said, voice lighter than it had any right to be. "That went as expected."

"They're volatile," Karen said. "But manageable."

Paul didn't speak. He never did unless it was worth hearing.

Leslie walked in late, clutching a tablet, her glasses sliding down her nose. "Vitals uploaded," she announced. "We're clear to begin the prep plans."

"Good." Julia moved to the table and clicked her laptop open. "Let's run through this."

She clicked on the first tab: MJ 

"Martha's weight is stable, but we've flagged signs of resistance again," Karen said. "She's eating less but not saying it. There's no pushback verbally, but the body language is standoffish. Passive-aggressive compliance."

"She's not questioning instructions yet," Leslie added. "But she's drifting."

"Drifting is fine," Julia replied. "We don't need her lively. We need her to be palatable. Fashion's best-kept corpse in couture."

Paul's voice finally cut through. "She followed Hamilton."

Julia's jaw twitched. "Yes. I saw."

"Problem?" Karen asked.

"Potential one," Julia muttered. "She connects with people who notice too much. If Hamilton starts looking too closely..."

"Then we sedate," Leslie offered.

Julia's eyes flicked up. "Not yet. But if she starts pushing?"

Karen nodded. "I'll have the trainers increase output. Add altitude sessions. Low food, high movement. Deplete her energy. Blur the edges. Get her just compliant enough that she doesn't realise she's falling apart."

"And the microdose?"

Leslie tapped her tablet. "Upping it starting tomorrow. It'll soften her reactions. She won't connect the dots. We keep the dosage low enough to pass tox screens, high enough to ensure obedience."

"And Jacob?"

Paul finally looked up. The room went quiet. Julia closed her laptop softly. "That's the wildcard," she said. "He doesn't know yet."

"He will soon," Paul replied. "And he's not going to like it."

"She'll be gone for most of the year," Karen said. "Travelling. In lingerie. Surrounded by men who are younger, richer, and better-looking. She'll be photographed laughing next to strangers in pit lanes while he rots in LA with a camera crew and too much time."

"And when he reacts?" Leslie asked.

Julia shrugged. "He'll panic. Maybe pull rank. Maybe try to reclaim control."

Paul's voice was low. "He'll lash out."

"Can we use it?" Karen asked, always the tactician.

"We don't want bruises on camera," Leslie said.

"We'll move the NDA stylists onto her full-time," Julia replied. "24/7 coverage. Airbrushed concealers. Tattoo makeup. No questions. No record."

"And if she breaks?" Karen asked.

"She won't," Julia said smoothly. "Martha doesn't break. She dissociates. She floats. We just keep her high enough to glide."

"And the others?" Paul asked, already knowing the answer.

"Gigi will rage. Let her. It'll go viral."

"Barbara?"

"Will obey. She always does."

"Taylor?"

"She'll collapse mid-season. Prep the medics."

"Lila?"

"She's in a constant state of confusion. Feed her champagne and praise. She'll purr."

"And Martha?"

Julia smiled, slow and razor-sharp. "She's the face. The fantasy. The icon."

Then, colder, "She's the product."

Paul nodded. "Then we treat her like one."

Karen snapped her binder shut. And just like that, the meeting was over. The damage was planned. The chaos was packaged. The year was set. And somewhere in the city, five women were preparing to board planes they hadn't agreed to, step into lights they hadn't asked for, and walk runways they didn't know led straight to hell.

***

Her driver didn't speak.

He never did.

Martha didn't care.

The SUV's windows were tinted black and the seats were too soft. She stared out at New York like it offended her. Everything was loud. Too much. Too fake. She could still hear Julia's voice ringing in her skull, every buzzword a dagger. Every click of the slideshow a fresh violation.

Mercedes. McLaren. Bahrain. Cameras. Men. Men. More fucking men.

Her phone hadn't stopped vibrating. Gigi. Lila. Paul. Julia. Her agent. The VS legal team. Her management team. A Vogue editor she hadn't spoken to since she told them to fuck off after they asked her to pose "more nude but make it empowered."

She hadn't answered any of them. She wasn't going to. She needed a bath. She needed to float. To disappear. Just for a few hours.

The car pulled up outside her apartment building-a penthouse on the Upper East Side, all white marble and frosted glass and "Do Not Disturb" energy. The doorman didn't say a word. He just opened the door like he was scared of her.

He should be.

Martha stepped into the lobby, heels echoing. The lift was fast. Her keycard buzzed. The door unlocked. Silence.

She kicked her shoes off without looking. Dropped her bag on the marble. Pulled her coat from her shoulders like she was shedding skin. She didn't even see him at first.

He was in the living room. Arms crossed. Phone still glowing in his hand. The TV was on mute. Playing the promo reel from the campaign.

Her face. Her body. Wings. Lingerie. Slow-motion.

She stopped. Didn't speak. He looked at her. Jacob. Tall. Barefoot. Shirtless. Tracksuit pants hanging low on his hips. Hair messy. Eyes sharp. "Martha."

His voice was low. Not tired. Not confused. Calm. Which was worse.

She walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, pulled a bottle of lemon water, and twisted the cap with one hand.

"I didn't agree to this," he said.

She drank. "Doesn't matter."

"I didn't say you could do this."

Her jaw flexed. "Are you serious?" she asked.

He stepped closer. "One year," he said. "Twelve months of running around in your underwear in front of every man with a race license and a hard-on."

"You think I planned this?"

"You didn't say no."

"I wasn't given the fucking option," she snapped, turning to face him now. "It was signed without my knowledge. It was announced before I knew. I walked into that meeting blind."

"But you didn't walk out."

She blinked.

"You stayed," Jacob said, stepping closer. "You're still in it. You didn't tell them to fuck off. You didn't call me. You didn't ask me."

She laughed. Bitter. "I didn't realise I needed permission."

"You don't," he said. "But you're mine. You represent me. And now you're going to be travelling around the world, dressed like a whore, next to men who'd do anything to get under your skin-or under your skirt."

Her face snapped like glass. "I've been modelling in lingerie since I was sixteen, Jacob. This isn't new."

"This is different."

"Why?" she asked. "Because now it's not you on my arm in the photos? Because now you don't get to control the angle? The edit?"

He stepped into her space. Too close. Always too close. "You're not going," he said.

She smiled. Slow. Dangerous. "Try to stop me."

His hand twitched at his side. She saw it. They both did. She didn't flinch.

"I'll tell them you're unwell," he said. "Hospitalised. Dehydrated. Mentally unstable."

"They've heard it before."

"Not like this."

"Do it," she said, leaning in, voice like venom in silk. "And I'll post the photos. You know the ones. The ones you told me to delete. The ones from the Cannes party."

He stared. She stared back. Silence. The air between them was the kind that only came right before a thunderclap-or a slap. She turned. Walked toward the bathroom for that fucking bath she needed.

"Don't fucking test me, Martha," he growled.

She paused at the door. Turned just enough to look at him over her shoulder. "I'm not testing you," she said. "I'm warning you."

And then she disappeared into the marble-and-glass bathroom, locked the door, turned the taps, and let the steam swallow her.

She stripped slowly. Shirt first. Bra. Panties. Her skin was already marked-light bruises on her hips. One on her rib. Covered earlier. Now, visible. The bath filled. She climbed in. And for the first time all day, she exhaled. Not in relief. But in calculation.

The water was hot. Almost scalding. Martha didn't care. She sank under slowly, letting it rise to her neck, her collarbones disappearing beneath the foam, hair piled in a loose knot at the top of her head. Her arms floated. Her breathing slowed. Her knees were drawn up, thighs peeking above the surface like soft warnings.

The walls were marble. Her thoughts were louder than the silence. She stared at the ceiling like it owed her something. One fucking year. Twelve months of walking on glass.

Twelve months of Jacob's voice in her ear while she smiled in front of flashing cameras. She closed her eyes.

And then- Click.

Her body tensed. The door creaked open. She didn't move. Didn't need to. The mirror caught him. Jacob's reflection. Bare chest. Storm face. That walk-the one he only used when he was about to make her small again.

She opened her eyes. Didn't flinch.

"What the fuck, Mar?" he asked, stepping into the bathroom like it was his.

It wasn't. It never was. He didn't wait for a reply.

"You really think you're going to gallivant around the world like some fucking free agent? Dress like that? Be seen like that? With them?"

She didn't answer. The silence burned. He moved closer. Fast. "You think this makes you look powerful? You look owned."

Still, nothing.

That's what made him crack. It always was. The way she didn't react. The way she made him feel invisible.

"I asked you a question," he growled, kneeling by the tub and grabbing her arm.

Her eyes snapped to his, sharp and sudden. "Let go." But he didn't. He yanked. Hard. The water sloshed, foam spilling over the sides. She gasped as the air hit her skin. He pulled her upright, water cascading off her body like a peeled silk curtain. She slipped slightly against the porcelain, caught herself, chest rising in sharp breaths.

Then his hand was at her waist. Gripping.

She shoved at his chest. "I said-"

But he was already dragging her out. Wet feet hit the cold marble. She stood, dripping, completely naked, hands still braced against his chest.

He was breathing heavy. Too close. So much taller.

Then he shoved her.

Not with full force-just enough to slam her back against the marble wall, hands at either side of her head. Her skull hit tile. Water clung to her skin. Steam swirled. Her pulse roared in her ears.

"You're not going," he spat, eyes burning. "I don't care what they promised you. You're mine."

Her chin lifted. Bare. Defiant. "I haven't been yours since the first time you hit me."

He blinked. Like the words stunned him. Then his grip tightened on her wrist. "Don't test me."

She didn't flinch. Just breathed. Chest heaving. Body trembling not from fear-but cold.

"I'm not," she said, voice low. "I'm reminding you."

He stared at her. Naked. Wet. Glowing like a weapon. Then he dropped her wrist. Stepped back. Walked out. Didn't slam the door. Just closed it. Soft. Like an apology he wouldn't say. 

Like a threat.

[artisticestheticreads]

Summertime Magic XIV

A/N: Heyyy, how you doin’? Okay okay. I know it’s BEEN years BUT I’ve been a hell of busy for so long. I got into streaming, creating content on YouTube, traveling, and enjoying life. I noticed that my SummerTime Magic fan fic has been in rotation lately… so why not bring it back for the last two chapters for the one time? I had been rereading every chapter, flaw and all, and realized my writing has gotten way over the years and I won’t lie, I missed y’all so much. So let's finish this story off strong.

To Catch Up, Press Here.

Warning: Some fluffy Daka, some lovey-dovey stuff... and maybe, some stuff at the end that would y'all heart and soul.

Word Count: 7598

There was a couple leaning in a silver Nissan Altima, wearing all black hiding in the night. “So, what you got planned to fuck them over,” said the man who was still upset N’Jadaka has his ex now. He looked towards the woman and said “just know, you inspired this plan… a lot.”  The woman was about to do something to ruin what a good thing the couple had, but she didn’t care and was willing to do anything to let Y/N know she made a huge mistake.

Y/N was in her office at her brand new shop before the day started. Her hair was in goddess cornrows, charms and golden thread braided into each one. She wore the jewelry her man gifted her from their anniversary with a white leotard bodysuit, long, jaded green skirt with a slit on the side and some nude heels that paired perfectly with her golden bracelets. One by one, her crew started to make their way in and began to prepare for the day; the day started at 9 am and ended at 7 pm.

“Okay, everyone. We have quite a few appointments today including hair, nails, and waxes. We have all eight people here so we should be good along with having our entire receptionist team as well. Our goal is to make at least $10K which is possible with all the high school events and weddings happening around this time, yeah?”  Her team agreed before she checked the time on her phone; it was about to hit 8:50 and she could spot the repeating customers driving and waiting in the parking lot in front of the shop, coffees and breakfast in hand. Y/N nodded as the team dispersed and began to set the music and TV on. 

The day began and she knew it was going to be a long one ahead of her. She tied her apron around her tightly and began with her first customer, dye touch up and retwist. She had her neo soul mix on Spotify play throughout the shop as she worked on her male client, laughing with his mom who wanted her boy to not embarrass the family name nor his girlfriend for prom happening the next day. Y/N decided to throw in a free line up to make sure he was extra fresh; the mom tipped her a hundred and fifty dollars. 

Her next client was a loud mouth teen whose prom was the day of but she claimed to be “tender headed”. The young lady wanted everything done to her head to the point it looked like a tornado swept up Kansas so Y/]N convinced her to do a simple yet curly middle part bust down with her red 28 inches of weave; the young lady tipped her twenty bucks but her father slid her and extra two hundred for the time and trouble. 

Before she knew it, it was already one pm so she started to head to her parents’ home to visit and eat lunch with her mom since she was working from home that day. Y/N pulled up in front of the house and stepped out fixing her skirt. She began to walk up the steps when she heard her father yell out. “I SMELL SHEA BUTTER AND COCONUT OIL!!!! MY FIRST BORN IS HERE!!!!”; Y/N laughed before walking in and her father made his way to her on a cane, still healing his knees. “Hey, pa. How you healing?”

“Shit, I feel brand new now but ya raggedy ass momma made me get a cane just in case.”  “I heard that, muthafucka. Y/N/N, I’m in the kitchen, baby.”

Tommy looked at his eldest child and whispered “ya ass got me in trouble.” Y/N rolled her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen with a grin. Tasha was making lunch for the family which was a huge Caesar Salad inspired pasta with the salad on the side and toasted rolls. “Hey, momma.” “Hey, momma’s baby. How is the shop doin’?” “Good, money looking real nice with the prom season and graduation around the corner. Been booked and oh so busy”, explained Y/N after she kissed her mother’s sweet cheek. Her mom was in the middle of chopping the crispy chicken in bite size pieces and placing them into the pasta. “Okayyyy, I see you, big money. I am so proud of you, baby. Like you started from doing hair in your home to having your own shop. You didn’t let anything or anyone stop you. Not only that but you have that handsome young man, N’Jadaka too. How are y’all speaking of", asked her mother, smiling and knowing what surprise awaited her. Y/N smiled as she said “we are great, actually. He has been busy since the center opened and all but he is just… great.” Tasha turned to see her daughter looking at the ground in deep thought and walked over to her. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, momma.” “Y/N/N, baby, something is wrong. I know you better than anyone else in the entire world. Are you sure you and N’Jadaka are okay?” Tasha turned the pasta pot on a low boil and grabbed her daughter’s arm, interlocking with hers, as they walked to the front porch; they sat side by side on the bench. “Alright, tell me the truth. What’s wrong, best friend?” Y/N looked at her mother as she waited, looking into her eyes back; she sighed and began. “I just, I feel like something bad is going to happen. The shop is a success, my relationship is amazing, pa is healing, CJ is heading to college soon. I just-I just feel like something bad is going to happen soon.” “Now, why would you put that in the universe, baby? You have been through so much before N’Jadaka came into your life. Yes, you were happy before but since you met him, I can tell that y’all make each other better. He just brings out even more confidence than before. He makes you happy. When you were with Rodney…”. Tasha paused and took a deep breath as she remembered all the pain her baby girl dealt with before finishing. “Baby, when you were with Rodney, he absolutely drained you. You didn’t eat. You didn't sleep. You were attached to him in the worst way and it took for him to cheat on you and put his hands on you to see that you needed to leave him. But with N’Jadaka, you are your best self and , baby, we love that for you.” Y/N looked away, thinking of her mother’s words, slowly smiling to herself. “He is great, huh?”

“Sure is. And I can tell that y’all have a bright future ahead. Maybe, one day, if God is willing, y’all will have your own family. Maybe, a little girl and a little boy will be running around this yard one day. A nice intimate wedding, a nice big house like you always wanted. And you know, I can see you and that young man, old and gray talking to your grandbabies about how y’all met and fell in love.” Y/N looked over at her mother who smiled at her and she began to mirror it with her nose scrunched up like hers. Y/N giggled with her momma as she wrapped her arm around her and said “thank you, mommy.” “You are very welcome, baby. Now, let’s get back in befo-.” “TASHA, WHERE MY DAMN FOOD AT WOMAN?!”, yelled out Tommy making Y/N chuckled as her mother rolled her eyes once they stood up and entered the home again. ~

N’Jadaka was standing in front of the history classroom of the center wearing his golden frame glasses, navy blue slacks, white collared button down with the sleeves rolled up and black dress shoes. His locs were freshly twisted and braided backwards to stay out of his face. “Alright, kings and queens. Today, we will be discussing the truth about the African American bloodline. Now, if y’all can turn to chapter 4, page 36, you will see that today’s topic will be the truth of black royalty.” He leaned his buttocks against the desk and turned to the page he had bookmarked with a red tab. “Alright, in the 18th and 19th centuries, Europe had several black and mixed race people as royalty. The first one who we will be discussing is Queen Charlotte. Now, with features reputed to be conspicuously African by her contemporaries, it is no wonder that the Black community, both in the U.S. and-.” “Mr. Stevens, my daddy said there ain’t no such thing as black royalty”, said a ten year old child in the class, making the others look at her then at him, anticipating the answer. Erik looked at the young lady and took a deep breath before asking “Miss Zasha, what do I do for a living?”

“You’re our teacher.”

“And what does your ‘daddy’ do for a living, Miss Zasha?”

“He a mechanic.”

Erik slowly blinked at her answer with a tight mouth that made some of the children laugh. His eyes stayed on the young lady until he went back to the book, continuing to read. Thirty minutes had passed and the bell rang for the lunch period to begin; his class was dismissed and he began to prepare for lunch himself until he heard a knock on the door. Erik turned to see Sheila at the door, smiling big at her brother. “What’s good, sis”, he said, placing his hands in his pockets and leaning as he watched her enter; she wore a rainbow bodycon dress, cropped jean jacket with black and white vans. “Oh, everything is swell.” Erik looked at his long time friend with a suspicious brow and said “what are you finna ask me, Sheila?” “Nothing, jackass. Why are you asking me that?” “Lemme guess. Bro opened his big mouth about the surprise trip I have planned.” Sheila clutched her imaginary pearls as she gasped loudly, making Erik chuckle. “A surprise trip?! Why, he never told me anything about that! Oh, Jerald. Why have you forsaken me”, said the dramatic woman as she held her heart and placed her other hand on her forehead, palm facing the sky. “Quit the act, Sheila. Y’all make me sick.” Sheila rolled her eyes playfully before sitting at the desk in front of him. “So, you are finally popping the question, huh? When is the trip?”

“Shit, next week but they I been working I'm chilling before the trip. I got a whole thing planned for Friday night though. Gonna take her to the beach since it’s getting warm as fuck again. I got some folks to set up a whole outdoor dining thing over there and I ordered food from our first anniversary spot. I got her favorite bakery spot to make her cake, that place called Sweets or something like that by the shop. Then I show her a fake text that shows our ‘plane tickets’. I had to convince the Dora Milaje to dress like a whole fuckin’ aircraft crew and B’s boys, too. Then, BOOM the big muthafuckin’ reveal. She will come back as my fiance and maybe even the mother of my children.” N’Jadaka sat so proud of his plans that he didn’t even notice his sister staring at him with glee. “You good, sis”, he asked and she sat with her chin resting on her hands. 

“You are so happy. And I love y’all so much.”

“C’mon, Sheila.” She stood from her seat as she said “I’m serious, JD. After the last bitch, you said you would swear off women and rather die a virgin. You gave up the dream of marriage, and babies, and having the family you always wanted. Like your parents and uncle wanted for you. Then, you got sprung on Y/N thick ass.” N’Jadaka looked at her, chuckling away as she took a place next to him. Sheila continued as she looked at him. “JD, I am so happy that you found your sunshine on your cloudy days.” N’Jadaka looked over at his female friend, wrapped his arm softly around her neck and kissed her head. “Thanks, sis. I appreciate y’all. But you know, Y/N might be on to me.”“Eh, women know when something is up. But no worries. Her family and your people ain’t spilling shit.”

They gave one another dap before heading out to get some food finally and talk more about the plans. ~

The day was finally over and Y/N was about to close out shop. Her team left one by one after cleaning their stations and helping tidy up the place before they all left. Y/N locked the doors behind each one before heading to the back, about to finish the lock up process. She placed all the money from the register in the money counter and started recording the amount down to the cent, $11,845.28 was made for the night. She placed the amount in the money bags and into her lock box N’Jadaka gifted her since her old one was worn and torn. Y/N placed it into her purse before grabbing her keys along with her phone before turning off her office light. She began to make her way to the door when he noticed him standing there. He wore all black to hide in the dark but she could see his eyes piercing through the glass. Rodney stood there watching her move even in the dimly lit room. Her first thought was how she would get to her even though he leaned against the hood. Y/N thought of only one thing she could do. She headed back to her office, using the switch to turn the light on after dialing the number and talking to the person on the other side. Y/N locked the door behind her and sat at her desk waiting for her rescue to arrive. 

It felt as if she waited hours as her eyes got slightly heavy when all of a sudden, she heard footsteps inching closer to her office door. She stood from her desk slowly, eyes on the door and worry on her face as she waited quietly. Before she knew it, she heard knocking on the door which came off loud with her drowsiness kicking in. Her heart started to beat through her breasts just thinking about that man attacking her again like in the past; her soul was terrified to say the least. “Baby girl, it’s me, Daka. Open the door, baby”; she heard the voice she waited for, calming her rattled nerves. N’Jadaka had come to the rescue… or so she thought. When she sprinted to open the door, Rodney stood there with a devilish grin. He reached for her neck, pressing down hard and that’s when it happened…

Y/N had sprung up swinging her arms but felt something pull her in. She looked up to meet eyes with her man who looked down at her while rubbing her back. “You okay, princess”, his voice calmed her as he placed kisses on her head. “Hey, baby.” “Hey, baby. You good in here? I tried callin’ to let you know I was in the lot but I guess you was knocked out.” Y/N placed her head into his chest and began to heavily sniff his cologne which made him erupt with laughter. “Been a long day huh?” She mumbled against his chest but he lifted her head to look at him. “I didn’t catch any of that, princess. What you say?” “Yes, the longest.” “Awe, well. I have dinner ready at home waiting for us. Then I will give you a nice bubble bath and a deep tissue massage-” “And dick”, Y/N said in a sweet, innocent yet excited tone, looking up at him with big eyes. Erik chuckled and said “yes, dick too. Now, c’mon, baby.” They made their way to the parking lot where they hopped in separate cars, him following behind.

~ The next morning at exactly 6 am, N’Jadaka sat on the island looking at his children's stats from his history class. He had on his gold rimmed glasses, a basic white tee and jeans as he held his coffee with one hand. Y/N was making breakfast for the pair wearing his tee and nothing underneath. N’Jadaka watched her move around the kitchen, smiling in between glances of the children’s work and his future wife. He can only imagine their wedding day, her in a cream toned gown with gold accents created by the best seamstress in all of Wakanda; her beauty would be a wonderful addition to the view around them. He wondered how their kids would look, how they would act. Yes, Y/N may not be able to have children but with the best healthcare in his home country, it would be 200% possible, studies show.

Y/N placed his plate of four egg whites, four slices of French toast, bacon and a bowl of brown sugar oatmeal as she kissed his forehead and refreshed his coffee. “I made our lunch for today. Just the dinner from last night so we can get rid of it easier. And, of course, I put some of the green tea and a jug of your alkaline water with your tumbler.” She grabbed her bowl of oatmeal and small plate of toast, bacon and eggs and indulged  before the busy day ahead. She was reading through the emails on her phone when she felt kisses on her free hand; she turned to look at N’Jadaka, fully immersed in showing her love. Y/N won’t lie but she was a bit suspicious of him being overly affectionate with her lately; she of course shrugged it off as she watched him. She leaned into his hand that held her wrist and shared her own kisses, making him smile and look at her, with so much love in their eyes.

“Why are you so lovey dovey this morning, mister”, Y/N asked but she only received kisses between the words he spoke. “Because” kiss. “I” kiss. “Have” kiss. “Someone” kiss. “Who” kiss. “Loves” kiss. “Me” kiss. His eyes met her and she can tell by the look on his face. “Daka, what are hidin’?” N’Jadaka looked into her face and made a deep sigh. “Nothing, baby girl. Why I gotta be hiding something, Y/N/N.” Y/N looked into his face trying to read it until she heard “baby, you can’t pull a me on me. I’m stone compared to your bubble.” He gently placed her hand down and continued to eat as she did the same, in comfortable silence and leaving her in her thoughts.

An hour passed when N’Jadaka was sitting on the couch looking at the plans for the following night wearing his chosen work attire; it would be one of the biggest nights in his life. He went through the list to check if everything was confirmed. Yellow, white and pink roses, check. Dinner ordered from The District,check. The reservation to close the whole beach just for the dinner, expensive but check. And everything ready for the proposal back home, a  HUGE check. He leaned back looking at the time on his phone, 7:25 AM. He thanked Bast that the traffic from the house to the center was nonexistent especially with how he drove. He dug in his pocket to retrieve the ring box that contained the engagement ring. N’Jadaka leaned over, elbows on knees and opened the box which lit up around the ring, showing every detail of the beautiful piece of jewelry that would change things forever. “She gonna love this shit.”

“Daka, have you seen my chain”; Daka heard his lady and could also feel how close she was near so he quickly placed the ring back into his pocket and closed his laptop. Y/N walked over to the couch where he sat in her sunny yellow flare bottom pants, white tank top, high top all white converse and hair in a low bun with her goddess braids; looked around and saw the necklace resting on the coffee table. She grabbed it and as she placed it on, she noticed her man’s body language. “Daka, what’s wrong?” “Hm? What you mean, baby?” Y/N looked over at her man even more whose legs were extra folded. and just shook her head to herself saying “nothing, Daka. You think you can still pick me up tonight after work? I don’t want to be caught by myself when that nigga pops up again.” N’Jadaka nodded, saying, “Of course, baby. I got you. Shit, I’ll bring my glock too just in case.” Y/N laughed as she grabbed her bag and he stood, placing a kiss to her lips before they headed out but he forgot one important thing.

It was around three pm at the shop as Y/N sat in her own chair, enjoying her break, hearing the chatter in her salon, making her smile. “All I’m saying is, I want a nigga with a curve. That muthafucka being thick means nothing. It’s that length and curve that matters, okaayyyyy!!!”; the woman all hollered and laughed through the shop. “Y/N doll, what about you? Does size matter?” All the girls laughed as Y/N was placed in the hot seat but little did they know, she could take the heat. “Psh, please. I got a man with all three. I’m good over here”; all the girls cheered, laughed and high five each other.

The bell of the shop door rang but before Y/N welcomed them in, Y/N noticed the man. It was Rodney who stood there, eyes trained on her face and thanked the women who did welcome him in. He wore a black V-neck, tan cargos, and gray New Balance 570s with his hair under a durag. “Hey there. Welcome in, I’m Stacie. Do you have an appointment” asked the receptionist at the front door. Rodney leaned in with a smile and replied. “Yes, ma’am. Under Tyler Calvin.”

“Tyler. Tyler?” Her fingers typing in each letter until his name popped up. “Ah, I see it here. And even better news, you have it with our very own Y/N Y/L/N”, Stacie said before eagerly passing him a water and leading him to Y/N who stood, heart beating through her chest and palms feeling hot and sweaty. The couple reached her section and Stacie said “Miss Y/L/N, your 3:30 is here early”; she skipped back to her spot as the pair stood off. Y/N knew that he knew she hated to have altercations publicly which gave him an excuse to be manipulative and repulsive. “Hello, Miss Y/L/N. I’m Tyler”; she stood in complete silence.

~ “Alright, class. Don’t forget I have to meet your parents tomorrow morning before I go on my break.” The class awed and sounded saddened as N’Jadaka stood in front with arms folded. He loved the kids and they loved him even more and it made him sad just thinking he would be gone for a while but knew once he came back and told them he was engaged, they would be super excited. “I know I know but I’ll be back before you know it. Now, class is dismissed. If you are staying behind with the after hours program, you can meet your assigned teacher in the eating hall. I’ll catch you tomorrow”; the class began to all say their goodbyes as they ran out but that’s when he noticed Miss Zasha was still in her seat. “Miss Zasha, is your pops running late again?”

“No, my auntie Shay Shay is picking me up. She runn-” “She is”, N’Jadaka said, correcting with a brow raised and hands behind his back. Zasha looked up at him and said “she is running late.” N’Jadaka nodded as he began to clean up and prepare to head out himself. He sent a quick text to the ones he missed from Shuri, his boys, Sheila and of course, his future wife; the prince couldn’t wait for tomorrow night. He knew that she would be a beautiful wife. Just the thought of her reaction to the island view of Wakanda made him smile to himself as he heard the sound of heels clicking in the hall. “TT Shay Shay”, Zasha exclaimed with excitement, hopping from her seat. But when N'Jadaka turned with his briefcase-like bag in hand, he could feel his blood boil once he saw the mysterious woman; it was Kesha, wearing a burgundy skirt suit combo with cheetah print heels and her hair cut into a bob. N’Jadaka met eyes with Kesha which made her stand straight, walking over to him. “Well, well, well. Long time no see, Mr. Udaku.” Kesha looked back to her niece and signaled her head to the playground with her friends. “My brother told me that he was scheduled to talk about Zasha and how she be in class.” “I’m meeting parents tomorrow, Kesha.” N’Jadaka was trying to dismiss her but she didn’t budge. “Daka-”. “Mr. Udaku.” N’Jadaka glared at her as he stood at his desk. She held her hands in the air then in front of her, folded. “Mr. Udaku, he scheduled it today since he is busy today and tomorrow. I’m just tryna help him out.” N’Jadaka heavily sighed as they stood looking at one another. ~

Back at the shop, Y/N had a cape around Rodney’s neck tightly before she placed him in front of the hair washing bowl. Rodney tried to look in her eyes but she wasn’t falling for the trap; she looked ahead, paying him no mind and said “lean back into the bowl, please.” He deeply chuckled before he followed the order but not without checking her body out which she noticed and placed a towel over his eyes only; Rodney took the towel off his eyes as she began washing his coarse hair. No conversation between the two which made things even more tense. 

“You smell nice, I don’t remember that scent.” Y/N looked down at his face but saw that his eyes were closed while he enjoyed her fingers in his hair. She began to massage deeper into his scalp and noticed something that made her chuckle which made him ask “what’s funny?”

“Your thinning hair. Guess ya new girl can’t do hair, huh?” Rodney sighed while easing more into the chair. “I ain’t got a girl no more.” Y/N looked away still washing before he said “shorty was making my hair fall out. That’s why I’m here, so you can help me out.”“And what makes you think I would help you, Rodney?”“Because I’m in this chair right now and I know you hate makin’ a scene, shorty.” Y/N stood there, knowing it was true which made her stand silent. Rodney sighed and said “nah, but me and Ash kept on fightin’. I’m gettin’ too old for that high school shit, no cap”, no response from Y/N. “Besides, she kept talkin’ about ya man”, this caught her attention. “What did she say?”

“I knew that would get you speakin’, shorty?” She tugged his hair harshly making him wince. “OK, OK. He was tryna compare me to him. She wanted me to do everything he did besides being the whole ass virgin shit. The bitch even tried to lock my shit.”

“And that’s why you baldin’.”

“Shit and her fucking naggin’ the fuck outta me too. Had me on this fucking all protein, no carb diet tryna bulk me up and everythin’. That shit was fa sho depressin’.” Y/N nodded her head as he spoke to her about everything and thought about how her Daka could be with someone that controlling. “Man, I had to dump her because fuck all dat shit. She tried to do that instant loc bullshit on my dome and had me all fucked up. I had to call Ma Dukes to help comb that shit out. Took half my hair with it.”

“Yeah, I know you got a fucked up head inside and out”, she said thinking he would rebuttal something mean and nasty but instead she heard “yeah, yeah I know”; she looked in his face and then away as she continued to work on his scalp.  ~

N’Jadaka opened up his laptop to find his notes on Zasha as Kesha watched his fingers move against the keyboard, both seated on opposite sides of his desk. “Alright, Zasha Lewis. Zasha is a bright kid like the others but she can be lazy and always wants the last word. She always talks over others saying the wrong answer over their right answer.” Kesha looked into his face as she read, closed her eyes and opened them again as she said “I’m happy for you.” N’Jadaka looked up from his laptop, with a scrunched confused look, then to Kesha’s face who looked at him with a soft, sincere look. He took off his glasses and looked at her with a raised brow and intimidating face. “Excuse me?” “I am very proud of you and Y/N.” “Kesha, we are here to talk about your-” “Lemme finish. Please,” Kesha pleaded, making N’Jadaka pull out his phone. “What are you”-. Her question was caught off once he put his strong finger in the air to silence her. He placed the phone down and pressed start on the three minute timer. “You can talk again.” She took a deep breath before saying. “I am very happy for you and my best-”. “Ex.”

“Ex best friend. Between the shop, the center and your relationship it makes me feel like black love is still alive. But I’m very happy that Y/N finally has someone like you. After her last, she didn’t want anything to do with men again. Like it was really bad. She cried a lot and I know her folks hate seeing. I just know that y’all are really happy and-.” *RING. RING. RING* The sound of N’Jadaka’s phone went off and his eyes fell on the screen, tapping it to stop the noise and he stood fixing his trousers; he began to pack his things, placed his glasses into its case and said “let Zasha’s father know I will be sending him notes on this meeting. Be easy”;  with that, he made his exit as the custodian walked in to clean and lock up for N’Jadaka, leaving Kesha behind in her thoughts and texting on her phone.

Back at the shop, the beauticians and staff all talked while working on their clients when the nail stylist asked “so, Miss Boss Lady, when you think Mr. N’Jadaka gonna pop that question, hm?” Everyone whispered and asked the question again, commenting. “Yeah, Miss Y/N. He seems so amazing. Are we all invited once y’all tie the knot”, asked an excited Stacie from the wash bowl. Y/N was in the process working some oil through Rodney’s hair. “Not y’all being nosey.” “Not nosey. I just love that he loves you. Check it out. He literally sends you flowers every Wednesday at noon on the dot. Because of him, I do that for my lady now too. Expensive as shit but worth it, y’know”, said the male barber. “And don’t forget, he sends us all lunch every Friday”, said the nail stylist beside him. “Oh and plus, he comes by to sit with you every weekend to keep you company in the shop. If that isn’t a future husband then I don’t know what is, girl”, said one of the Transwomen beauticians. Y/N smiled, rolling her eyes as Rodney listened to all the sweet things N’Jadaka had done for his ex-girl and pulling out his phone to type. “Relax, relax. Why does everyone want me to get married all of a sudden”, Y/N asked as she giggled. 

“I HAD A DREAM ABOUT FOUR FISH LAST NIGHT!”, yelled out old sweet Miss Jackson from under the hairdryer; the group laughed as Y/N shook her head. Stacie began to help one of the patrons into a seat under another hair dryer before she grabbed the broom and began to sweep around the beauticians and barbers. “Miss Y/N. Do you wanna marry N’Jadaka?” The shop became quiet except for the music and TV being played in the background. Y/N began to have the thought of N’Jadaka. From her mother mentioning Daka proposing to her, to him becoming suspicious and secretive, to now the shop talking about it, she was starting to think that this could be a sign. Daka was once a stranger who helped her when a creepy man approached her to, now, the love of her life; in that moment she realized that she couldn’t see herself without N’Jadaka Udaku-Stevens. “Yeah, I do.” Everyone looked over at her, including Rodney who looked into the mirror in front of them. Stacie grinned once she stopped sweeping and said “you do, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Well, yeah. I feel like I’m at that point in my life where I want my forever partner and besides, I really can’t imagine myself without him. But I won’t lie, it scares me a little. I can’t describe it.” Miss Sawyer sat in the chair beside her getting her hot oil treatment set in as she smiled to herself. “I was in the same boat. You know young lady, back in my day, my daddy had owned a club with some white man I grew up with and I had to marry his god awful son.” Y/N looked over at her with concern in her eyes and said “Miss Sawyer, you did? You never told me that.” “Yeah, sure I did. I wasn’t happy, baby doll. I cried so many days and nights thinking of how I could be married off to a man, let alone a white one who truly did not love me.”  The shop nodded, taking in her words before she spoke again. “Then I caught him with another woman on his lap, literally a week after he had proposed to me. What even made it worse is that I was getting sexually harassed at where all this happened”; a mixture of gasps, shock and disgust.  “But all of a sudden, the bartender who worked for my poppa and his partner stepped in and when I tell you, the way I knew he would protect me from even a bear had me hot and unbothered”; the group including Y/N laughed. “But I tell you something. I’m not tryna talk ya ear off, baby doll, or none of y’all as a matter of fact. But I just wanna let you know that I went through the same thing you did, honey. I was scared to fall in love with my husband now but he convinced me with his actions that he was meant to be my life partner. The way he got rid of that man. Protecting me. Loving me. And if I could go back in time and do it all over again, I would.” Y/N stood there still working on Rodney’s head on autopilot and deep in her thoughts. She thought about Miss Sawyers’ words but she wasn’t the only one; Rodney sat looking at his ex through the mirror with a softened look. He took a deep breath and began typing against his phone, hoping his partner in crime got the message before it was too late. ~

Across town, Kesha sat in her car, houses down looking through her rearview mirror waiting for the target to arrive at the house. Her phone began vibrating in the cup holder before she picked it up and read the message, scoffing at the words, replying and threw the phone back in her purse. That’s when she saw the man, pulling into the driveway and parking to relax before planning the date night. He hopped out and made his way to the passenger side, grabbing a huge bouquet of white roses and his briefcase; he opened the door, unlocking with his key and stepping in. “Alright, babe closes the shop at like 8 today so I got like a few hours to spare and set up”, N’Jadaka said, as he placed the flowers on the end table by the front door. He kicked his dress shoes off, held them in his hands and made his way to the room to change and grab the spare clothes he always had at Y/N’s place. Once he was done with his shower, took a nap and relaxed, he realized that it was now four pm; he had to start getting ready for Y/N.

Back at the shop, Y/N had finished with Rodney’s hair. “Alright, all done. You need to use this sample everyday until it’s all gone, once in the morning when you wake up and once right before bed”. She took off his cape and was about to head to her office to decompress but felt something grab her wrist softly.  Y/N looked at him and could tell he wanted to say something but instead took a deep breath and placed something in her hand before saying “thank you. Take care of ya self, shawty.” With that, he walked out to his car and drove out the lot. When she looked in her hand, she noticed that he had placed five hundred dollars including tip money; she went ahead to her office to place the money away in her safe.

Back at the house, N’Jadaka tipped and thanked the delivery man and began to place the white wine in the fridge. “Aight, Sweets got the delivery, the restaurant got the plan and everything is set. I got my baby’s favorites and everything. Bast, please let this go smoothly.” N’Jadaka began to set things up by using some rose petals he bought from the florist earlier. He scattered them from the front door, around the dinner table and leading to the bedroom around her bed. He even began to pack all her things into new luggage cases he got back home but not before holding up the cream colored dress he planned for her to wear for the dinner night. Silk with a lace pattern and slits on both thighs of the gown. He began to play their song, setting the mood for the perfect night and humming to the lyrics. N’Jadaka knew her heart would absolutely melt when she saw everything set up the way it was. He ran into the kitchen to put ice into a metal bowl to place the white wine and placed it on the table, right in the middle. He had to make sure she loved it so she could say yes to the trip and yes to the ring.  As he placed the luggage into her closet for even more of a surprise, he began to hear the door open and shut along with the sound of heels clicking. At first, he thought it was his woman but that’s when he realized Y/N didn’t wear heels so it had to be Leslie. “What’s good, Leslie? Y/N is at the shop-.” His statement was cut short when he noticed that it wasn’t his friend at all. It was Kesha dressed in all cheetah print lingerie and matching heels under her robe. “Heyyy, Daka.” ~

“Hey, y’all”, cheered Leslie peeking half her body into the door; everyone greeted her as she walked in heading to Y/N who was in her seat. “Hey, best friend.” Y/N said her hello, hugged her and they made their way into her office. Leslie sat in front of her best friend’s table trying to get a good look at her left hand but saw no ring; she kissed her teeth so loudly at the sight that it made Y/N turn around. “Girl, you good?” Leslie had to think of something and fast. “Oh girl, nothing, just my damn job. I’m finna quit that muthafucka.”“Please, whore. You say that every fuckin’ time you work” Y/N said with a giggle. Leslie made a mocking face, making fun of her friend before saying “anyways, whore. Did you bring my bag”; that’s when she remembered it was on her kitchen counter. “Damn, I knew I forgot something. We can head to the house right now and grab it.”

“Girl, it can wait”, Leslie laughed but Y/N was already up with her bag. “No, no. Girl, we can head out and grab it now. I gotta tell you who the fuck my last client was”; they hopped in Leslie’s car and made their way back to the house. “So, girl tell me who my last client was”, Y/N asked Leslie as her friend kept her eyes on the road. “You better not say Kesha. Or I swea fuh GAWD.”“Rodney”; this made Leslie swerved resulting in the honks around them before she drove straight again. “RODNEY’S PUNK ASS”, Leslie said, digustingly and annoyed. “Yep, his ass used a fake name.”“He ain’t try nothing, did he? I needed a good ass reason to use my new gun.”“Good God, Leslie. No”; the light changed to green. “So, what happened?” Y/N chuckled to herself and said “you remember that bitch we fucked up at the club?” Leslie snickered out loud and said “what he got her pregnant?” “Nope, they broke up.”

“What the fuck that gotta do with you, girl?” Y/N side eyed her  before saying “the nigga is balding.”

“Chile, I been knew that. His daddy bald headed, his momma baldheaded, HELL his old ass grandma bald headed”. Y/N laughed before she said “but our girl was at the shop though.” “Miss Sawyer?!” “Mhm, sure was. She was of course preaching about love and what not.” “She always preaching, best but you gotta think, Mama Sawyer seen and dealt with some shit. Remember I was scared to have baby boy? Miss Sawyer told me I would be just fine and she would pray for us all and look what happened? He running around from diaper changes and shit.” The girls laughed until Y/N said “she mentioned marriage. Have you notice JD acting weird?” Leslie looked over at Y/N then back to the road “what you mean?”

“Like, he might propose.” Leslie deep down wanted to smile and scream YES but she didn’t want to ruin in surprise whatever they may be. “Hm, I ain’t sure. Not gonna lie. I only be around him when you around, boo.”“So, he hasn’t said anythin’ to y’all?”“Nope, nothing boo”; they soon made their way around the corner of her neighborhood and before she began to say “I’m not sure. There are just signs lik-” but stopped when she saw N’Jadaka’s car in the driveway. “I ain’t know babe was here. He texts me when he usually here.” Leslie only smiled when her friend wasn’t paying her any mind. She could only thing “EEEEEKKKKK, I get to see my homegirl getting proposed to.” Y/N stepped out, leaving her purse in the backseat, and placing feet on the sidewalk while Leslie followed behind quickly, eager; that’s when Leslie noticed something down the street. A familiar car, lashes on the headlights, bedazzled license plate and it looked like if the dashboard was covered in some type of polka dot. No. Nah. It was cheetah print… When the ladies approached closer, they could hear music playing from the home. “His playing our song.” Leslie looked at her friend who slowly smiled before using her keys to unlock the door. They spotted the rose petals around but also seen a white wine bottle open on the glass table, one with maroon lipstick smeared on it. Y/N went over to the table to get a closer look but Leslie could hear something from the bedroom. 

“Y/N”, Leslie said, looking at the bedroom door and feeling her body heat up. Y/N walked behind her as she could hear the voices over each other. Leslie could hear her friend breathing heavily, showing she was trying to stay calm but Leslie knew her friend way too well; Y/N was about to put her hands on someone and Leslie would help her do so. As soon as she opened the door, N’Jadaka was on the other side, holding a half-naked Kesha by her arm, and said “Now, get the fuck out before”...

N’Jadaka and Y/N met eye to eye as he finished. “Baby is here.”

WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPEN?! Guess y'all will have to find out NEXT WEEK!!!!!! CUE THE EVIL LAUGHSSSS

-SWEET BABIES-

@muse-of-mbaku

@im5ftbutmythroat66

@chaneajoyyy

@melanin-samii

@theunsweetenedtruth

@doux-ciel

@unicornluvin8765

@vikkidc

@wakandantings

@thadelightfulone

@mzamethystp

@simbiann

@tropicalsun10

@babydoll756

@notoriouslynay

@vminax

@quinsly

@pinkdemolition

@quietstorm-73

@chaoticcashfancroissant

@bugngiz

@chocolatedippedinhoney

@yafavcocoa

@lostgalaxies

@mbakuwife

@youreadthatright

@babygotl01292003

@acceptyourselfloveyourself

@madamslayyy

@yoyolovesbucky

@theogbadbitch

@wakanda-inspired

@bitchacho25

@toniilaney

@wakandascrystal

@girlsneedlovingfanfics

@raysunshine78

@melodyofmbaku

@hearteyes-for-killmonger

@silenceisplatinum

@thickemadame

@shookmcgookqueen

@heykillmongerluhme

@fonville-designs

@cutewylie​

@allhailqueennel​

@10bsatatime

@nickidub718​

@lildashofmelanin

@allhailqueennel

@amirra88

@hakunalive4eva

@ghostfacekill-monger

@thickemadame

@ladymac82

~ @muse-of-mbaku @im5ftbutmythroat66 @chaneajoyyy @melanin-samii @theunsweetenedtruth @doux-ciel @unicornluvin8765 @vikkidc @wakandantings @thadelightfulone @mzamethystp @simbiann @tropicalsun10 @babydoll756 @notoriouslynay @vminax @quinsly @pinkdemolition @quietstorm-73 @chaoticcashfancroissant @bugngiz @chocolatedippedinhoney @yafavcocoa @lostgalaxies @mbakuwife @youreadthatright @babygotl01292003 @acceptyourselfloveyourself @madamslayyy @yoyolovesbucky @theogbadbitch @wakanda-inspired @bitchacho25 @toniilaney @wakandascrystal @girlsneedlovingfanfics @raysunshine78 @melodyofmbaku @hearteyes-for-killmonger @silenceisplatinum @thickemadame @shookmcgookqueen @heykillmongerluhme @fonville-designs @cutewylie @allhailqueennel @10bsatatime @nickidub718 @lildashofmelanin @allhailqueennel @amirra88 @hakunalive4eva @thickemadame @ghostfacekill-monger

[acaciapines]

>:3 invading your askbox again!! yes you’re correct I know a lot of the desschara lore but. it’s so fun to think abt!!!!!

out of curiosity, what came first to you— desschara or the ideas behind drk? is one a direct result of the other? I’m pretty certain I know the answer but I’d like to hear the thought process behind like. desschara as a whole and its incorporation into drk :p

YAY HI HELIX <3 taking up the cause of making me share all the lore...not that i havent shared so much lol desschara is soooo fun.

it was ABSOLUTELY drk lol, but let me try to remember like, how this all happened.

drk itself is an idea that started with a totally unrelated deltarune fic i posted like two months after chapter 2 dropped? something like that i think, called either (first, last). its a human dess au where she's transspecies like kris, so when kris realizes they werent actually born a monster dess being like them helps a LOT in them being able to keep that species a tad easier, but of course things still go a bit to shit lol. crucially, dess takes kris with her when she leaves, they end up falling in a dark world together and fusing into some sort of amalgamation-slash-secret-boss sorta deal. the fic ends years later with noelle susie and ralsei coming across and defeating this darkner, and noelle realizing that kris and dess are dead and never coming back.

and that was going to be the end of it! but this idea of kris not being there, of noelle falling into castle town with susie, REALLY stuck with me throughout the years and eventually it became drk. this is the first note i ever wrote for this idea actually: "Look it keeps coming back but. maybe one day I DO write the noelle & Susie & ralsei as the ones of the prophecy. like. it still says human monster prince from the dark. the problem is that dess left and took kris with her. so. there’s no fucking human, is there?"

my next paragraph was going to be me like 'yeah and then desschara came about a bit later as drk changed and such' but i shit you not note number fucking two: "might be inch resting to see a kris raised by dess actually. what if dess and chara get together in this au. w. wait why does that kind of work." SO I THINK DESSCHARA MIGHT'VE BEEN HERE FROM THE START LOL????? i dont know what the time frame was between me rotating the idea of the fun gang being susie noelle ralsei around in my head and me starting a notes doc was but i. um. wow desschara mightve been more initial than i ever thought lol.

THAT SAID THO i have written dess and chara as friends before!!! in my holiday-dreemurr series i had it that dess and chara actually met before, they became buddies on some obscure forum dedicated to other people who had fallen into dark worlds before, and in i know i'm not well they still keep and touch and dess's text chapter ends with her texting chara. so like, this idea of dess and chara as friends and specifically dess having met xir before was already established in my deltarune canon. so it does make sense that dess still goes to see chara, and i mean, she's got a six year old now, so.

also i do not think kris survives if dess is solely responsible for their wellbeing lol, she does not want to be a mother and doesnt see her relationship TO kris as a parental one, even though kris very much sees her as their mom and in taking them, even if it was not her intention, like. they dont have anybody else, do they? so dess sort of has no choice but to be that person for them. but dess just isnt like, equipped? to have this level of responsibility for a kid. she's their big sister! their buddy! if dess was left alone with kris she'd just take them into dark worlds with her and you see how well that goes in either (first, last) lol.

sorry im still reeling over this i really fucking forgot desschara was in this from the start. im sure the exact shape of it has changed and stuff but BRO........thats so fucking funny. surprise its been desschara all along....

i think another interesting thing is Why my deltarune chara is like this specifically in the sense that 'chara is frisk's parent' is not exactly what they call a common take lol. and thats because!!!! my deltarune chara is based off my HEADMATE chara, who is in fact frisk's parent. and by extension my deltarune frisk is based off my chara's memories of frisk, tho i also tend to write undertale canon frisk in a similar way too.

anyways all this is to say yes when figuring out desschara i did ask chara 'so under what circumstances would you marry dess' and xe said 'i would not' and i said 'yes okay but this is a fictionalized version of you so lets just pretend' and xe gave me a lot of fun insight lol.

god i cant believe desschara was here from the literal start.

[forabeatofadrum]

Happy Out of Touch Thursday! Look at that, I am posting. I haven't done one of these since March 5th (which I know, because of Persona 3 lol). Thank you to @nausikaaa, @artsyunderstudy, @facewithoutheart, @whatevertheweather, @blackberrysummerblog and @that-disabled-princess for the tags over the past few weeks.

I am actually revisiting an old Snowbaz fic idea. Back when I came up with it, I didn't want to write it due to my *gestures around* complicated relationship with smut and I was too uncomfortable writing it. And folks, I still am, but I also think it's fucking funny so I will see how I will fare. Maybe I will never finish it, but it's been rotating in my head for a couple of weeks now. I only now have time to write it, since I have been crazy busy with work, studies and organising around 16 to 20 events in one week.

Anyway, the working title is "Exhale my richard", thanks to that godawful Seth Everman post. I hate it. Please, help me find a better title. It may make more sense after the snippet.

I know I am an arsehole. "Shut your fucking mouth, Snow." I am laying it thick. I am really rubbing it in that Simon's been dumped. We're having one of our screaming matches in our room. Just a typical Thursday afternoon for us. "Fuck off, Baz." Well, it started out as me egging him on about his failed relationship, but this fight has turned into something bigger. We're hurling insults and accusations at each other at rapid fire. It's getting heated. Snow's red in the face and I admit that calling him a teacher's pet has nothing to do with Agatha, but of course we always end up at the Mage. "Oh, suck my dick!" I yell at him after he's done telling me that the Mage is a good man. And to my surprise, he goes quiet and gets down on his knees.

Simon "no I am not having gay thoughts" Snow strikes again in this fic. It's actually been over a year since I wrote Snowbaz and I missed my boys.

And now, the weather: @quizasvivamos @coffeegleek @caramelcoffeeaddict @raenestee @tectonicduck  @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @cutestkilla​ @shrekgogurt @rockitmans @bitbybitwrites @esilher @kurtsascot @nightimedreamersghost @ivelovedhimthroughworse @thnxforknowingme @martsonmars

[maxinemaxmayfield]

Twelve Days of Stranger-mas (5/12)

I'm using the twelve days of Christmas prompts from the @strangerthingswritersguild to create an ongoing fic with a short chapter for each day! steddie | teen&up | temporary character death

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Day 5 Prompt: Five Handwritten Notes

Robin had suggested it. Steve had scoffed and shook his head and sworn he wouldn’t try it. But here he is, pen in hand and notebook in front of him on his desk. Closure, Robin had said he needed.

Dear Eddie Munson, 

Steve scratches that out immediately, feeling like a twelve year old girl writing a diary entry. It’s not like Eddie’s actually going to fucking read it anyway. He tears out the whole page and tosses it into the trash can across the room. 

It takes another week before he tries again. 

Hey Eddie. It’s been two months since you didn’t come back from the Upside Down. It feels like so much longer and yesterday at the same time. It’s not like you’re the first person we’ve lost, so I don’t know why this has hit me so much harder. Maybe it's because of the kids. They talk about you all the time. Sometimes I act like it annoys me, but honestly it’s kind of nice to learn more about you. Those kids idolize you, man. They really do. 

Steve hides the journal under his mattress when he’s done, feeling even more like a twelve year old girl, but he can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands, especially with Dustin hanging around all the damn time nowadays. 

Eddie – Fucking hell, I wish you were here to take Dustin off my hands for a while. I know he’s grieving but holy shit, dude. I wake up to him checking in on the walkie every morning, can’t go to work without him stopping by every single day. I can’t even go to sleep without telling him first, otherwise he’ll come banging on my door in the middle of the night, convinced I’ve been attacked by Vecna. 

Time keeps dragging on, and Steve starts to find comfort in writing his stupid little notes to Eddie. He finds himself sitting down most nights, just updating Eddie on his day, however boring. 

I’m sick to the gills of Hawkins, Eddie, I really am. I always thought I’d live my whole life here, settle down with a little family, all that shit. But it’s day after fucking day rewinding tapes, seeing the same kids and same couples and same assholes coming in to rent the same rotation of movies and I think I might lose it, Eds, honestly.

And when things in his life change, when there’s big news or something to vent about, Steve finds himself counting down the hours until he can write an update and get all his thoughts out on paper. 

Robin has a girlfriend. I don’t know if you knew Vickie? Played clarinet in the marching band? Anyway, she’s nice enough, and I’m happy for Robin, so happy for her, she deserves a girlfriend after everything. But… I’m also kind of lonely. We used to moan about being perpetually single together and now all Robin wants to do is talk about Vickie. Or go see Vickie. Or call Vickie on the phone. And I’m left feeling like a pathetic third wheel. 

Do you think we would be friends, if you were still here? I know you can’t answer me, I’m not fucking stupid, but I don’t know. I think we could have been. Surviving that shit does something to you. Bonds you or something. Maybe we would have been close. Sometimes I feel weirdly close to you, just writing these. I don’t know. Maybe. Guess we’ll never know.

PART SIX

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Obsession was so good!!! 

"He expects his flesh to bubble and burn, expects it to cut through those surface layers of it and leave him without the limb again"

I'm sorry again?? And how he immediately stood in the light afterward??? My fucking heart

"All For One had come to check up on him, and Tomura had clung to him, not understanding what had happened to him. But he could smell that the other man was... angry, unhappy, disappointed. He knew it was his fault that he felt those things and Tomura had done his best to stop crying as he had been taken back to the doctor."

I WILL FIGHT THAT MAN!!! Your version of Tomuras upbringing is always incredible, I'm eating it up whenever it features, and this fic was wonderfully painful thank you lol

Dabi being afraid of muscular :(( damn endeavor

Shig leaving a cold spot on the bed is so funny

I love that you kept the boys relationship pretty sweet while sticking to the obsession prompt!! That dynamic works well for them. Shig gets to be mildly creepy, Dabi never feels ignored again, win win

All the pet names in Tomuras inner monologue are adorable. Wildfire <3

The spit kink..... I'm insane. Dabi you slut (affectionate)

"The heady thought of drinking enough that his firefly won't be able to get hard flits through his mind. He tucks that thought away for later." 

PULL IT BACK OUT TELL ME EVERYTHING

Oooh the misunderstanding. Poor Dabi. I feel awful for Tomura too but also yikes that phone call

"You were sucking and fucking me six ways to Sunday!"

"Such a fucking creep." His mouth is full of his fangs as he sees the other looking so good against his sheets again. "Yeah." 

I snorted

I loved their whole argument, Dabi's so upset but he's scary as hell when we're not in his head

"Tomura thinks, maybe, that means that Dabi's heartbeat will be his from now on too and that makes the silence in his own chest far less deafening."

Such a beautiful line to wrap up this fic!! Thank you tanco

Today was such an ordeal (SQUIRRELS ATE MY INTERNET CABLE) and this was such a nice ask to receive after all of that.

Ujiko and AFO have definitely been torturing that poor boy for years under the guise of making him 'better' and Tomura definitely just got used to putting up with it.

AFO is a POS adoptive father and he always will be!!

Dabi doesn't do well with hulking figures who use their physical strength to get what they want :)

This is PEAK dynamic for them lol, Shigaraki is already always slightly creepy anyway so it it just makes sense.

wildfire is absolutely entering the rotation of pet names from now on

mmm, Tomura having Dabi in his lap, his back to his chest as he makes Dabi touch himself while he whispers filthy things in his ear and licks and nibbles on his neck, refusing to break skin until Dabi is so close to his orgasm. He bites and drains his blood so that as Dabi cums, he's doing it as he softens and makes him keep stroking himself until he thinks he's ready to go again, even though he's still not hard before he lets his pretty human sip at his veins and watches as he hardens and cums rapidly a second time, cooing over how cute he is 💕

Dabi was peak angry pomeranian in this one and we love to see it.

Thank you so much for the kind words! This really made my day!

[russilton]

Coming @ you with the vague fic scenario of Lewis/George slowburn somewhere between 2020 and 2024 where George's main problem is being jealous of Valtteri and Lewis's main problem are his feelings for someone that much younger and both of them are oblivious idiots 😩

George falls first and then Lewis falls harder and they don't get that the other one wants them, so much miscommunication (or more likely lack of communication lol) but it's also cute and funny. I'm probably never going to write it but I want it. 😂

So, gonna apologise for holding this for 3 months, whoops! In my defence those last 3 months have been… just a LOT for me. Hah. I’m alive though let’s go with it

I love this idea a lot, not just because I’m a sucker for slow burn and both the boys getting wrapped up in their own heads and hang ups, but also because I was telling Lesi recently- George and Val is such an underutilised dynamic in our space- possibly because most people writing Gewis are more familiar with Alex than Val and Alex is both a softer and more comical voice to work with- but fuck do I love the genuinely rocky but recovering relationship that is Val and George especially when it rotates around Lewis

Maybe it’s bc I was a Val fan prior to George, and still share a fondness for him I can’t shake, but there’s something so solid in his friendship with Lewis that I just think is fascinating when you introduce George or it- because ultimately his and George’s annoyance with each other came directly from the fact Val had everything George wanted, the seat at Merc, the wins, Lewis’ respect. And Val understandably wasn’t fond of the twink forcing him to confront head on his age and slow slip from his prime.

Once George gets his seat, once Val bites the bullet and accepts the move to stake, you can see the slip of weight off their shoulders, they both relax with one another- but getting a seat does not automatically grant George Lewis’ friendship, that’s the one thing George cannot just take from Valtteri. I think it’s so interesting for George to have to fight between both being glad Lewis has that support, and the disappointment and glowing jealousy he doesn’t get to be that person.

George has so much anxiety Valtteri just doesn’t have, he would spend so long in these internal twisted knots of trying to fight the sticky guilt of being so jealous of that attention- he knows it’s bad, he knows it’s wrong, but you cannot intellectualise your way out of a feeling, and in the depths of your own angst it’s hard to properly recognise the very brotherly shape of the bond between Lewis and Val- it doesn’t matter that the attention isn’t romantic, all that matters is he isn’t the one at the centre of that focus. I love playing with how George both has enough therapy to recognise certain feelings are silly and illogical.. but still has to deal with them. Because that’s how emotions work. And I project.

I also love coming at it from the third person perspective of Valtteri going from disliking George, thinking he’s cocky and frustrating and in his way- to watching George step into his seat and gain this sheen of anxiety you’d have missed before, because it was hidden under George’s relentless pursuit of what he wanted most, and once he had that… well now he’s adrift a little. There’s something just.. delicious about Valtteri slowly coming to realise just how much George wants Lewis’ attention, it’s not a five second fan boy moment that will snap under selfishness, George truly deeply cares about what Lewis has to say, and he follows through on things. It’s hard to change your opinion on someone who so annoyed you for years until you start seeing their problems separate to how they impact you, but in my opinion it’s a sort of quintessential step of being an older sibling, which in the weird fucked up sports way, Val kinda is.

They share so so many similarities at their core, and as George struggles through the gulf of trying to become someone Lewis is interested in, Valtteri knows that feeling. Knows what it’s like to wait for Lewis wide smile and laugh to turn on you, knows how Lewis can be fickle and frustrated, but also someone so warm you drift in their direction. Val may have never wanted anything to do with being in the bedroom with Lewis, he knows what it’s like to be seeking that orbit. He knows George because little bits of him were George, and it’s hard to maintain a frustration with someone you fundamentally understand.

As for Lewis, you could evolve a whole story just on him observing the relationship between his friends and how odd that is to do when he spent so long thinking that getting too close to other drivers would make him vulnerable. Especially when his feelings for George take such a specific shape that out grows anything he’s dealt with before, and how odd that is.

This ramble got slightly redirected to a ranting George and Val, but it’s been on my mind recently and I re read a bunch of Naimh’s fics recently so thems the brakes

[tiredcatboysinc]

...Darling, I don't have a mouth.

I come back after months (?) of silence just to hand you a shittily written DSAF fic at 5am because I fucking love Steven and I'm coping that my dialtown payment won't go through /hj -Eddie🐶

Summary: You know, in hindsight, this was a fucking moronic idea. What kind of idiot brings their phone headed boyfriend lunch? The fucker doesn't have a mouth!!

Warnings: Swearing, crack treated seriously

Ao3

You know, in hindsight, this was a fucking moronic idea. What kind of idiot brings their phone headed boyfriend lunch? The fucker doesn't have a mouth!! He can't eat it!! Not to the mention the lack of internal organs!! Ya know, from becoming a phone headed bastard.

But hindsight is 20/20, and you probably need glasses. Like really fucking bad... No I'm being serious, you probably should reschedule that eye doctors appointment. When was the last time your eyes had been looked at? Like 2 years ago?... Yeah, you gotta get these puppies looked at - and soon.

You don't need another incident... It's only funny so many times when you point at a cat and ask what kind of dog it is.

And you think Steven is starting to genuinely worry about you at this point... Speaking of Steven!! The phone headed bastard in question was no where to be seen, which honestly was a little bit odd.

Normally when you came to visit him at work, whether that was to annoying or just fuck off and wander about, Steven could usually be found either in his office or the main lobby - but you couldn't seem to locate him in either, not right now at least...

A puzzled hum left your pursed lips, the noise almost entirely drowned out by the sounds of children in adject rooms. God, you always forgot how loud this place was... Yeah, it was a entertainment pizza joint meant for kids, so honestly, you shouldn't be that shocked to hear kids screaming in joy and running around - but it always hurt your ears, even if just a little bit.

But that was besides the point, because now you were rotating in place, in the middle of the lobby, in front of the prize corner - and you could feel Matt staring at you, judging you... Silently.

"Are you like the warthful eyes of God or something?" You suddenly chimed up as you stopped your spinning, slightly wobbling on your feet as the momentum came to a stop. Oh god, you honestly might throw up. The combination of looking Matt dead in the face while having just spun in several circles was making you sicker than any salmonella would even dare to.

...You wonder if you punched him directly in the face if it would sink like playdough...

Sorry, intrusive thoughts. You shouldn't be thinking that about your boyfriends employee's, he'd never let you live it down if you got banned from Freddy's - all because you punched Matt for no reason.

"Well, now I am." Matt finally spoke, breaking a very awkward streach of silence. "Are you looking for Phone man?" He asked, completely brushing over everything that had just happened.

Your cheeks lit red in embarrassment, brows furrowing. "Yeah..." You grumbled out, a sigh of frustration escaping you.

Slightly you shifted on your feet, tuning out the rest of whatever Matt was saying - you didn't really care, you'd just go wondering and find Steven on your own... Then you could give him his lunch, just like you'd planned.

"Uh huh... Okay, I'll go look there." You murmured, giving Matt a dismissive wave - finally departing from the prize counter.

Your shoes clicked on the tile floors as you walked, the paper bag crinkling quietly by your side. Where could Steven even be? The only other places you could think was the safe room, or the pirates cove.

...Pirates cove sounds about right.

So you turn around, mind set on heading towards pirates cove - only to slam face first into someone's chest.

You fumble backwards, face red as you begin to apologize profusely. It's only when you're half way through your 15th 'oh my god, I'm so sorry!', you look up - and Steven is trying is best not to burst a fucking seam laughing.

"YOU-" As your outburst begins, so does Stevens. He curls over on himself, busting out in staticy and broken laughter - the noise a familiar sound, comforting and yet incredibly embarrassing. A groan leaves you, head falling into your hands. God, hindsight really is 20/20. And your vision is anything but.

"Oh my foxy... That might have been the funniest thing that's happened all week..." Steven chokes out, laughter slowly dying into a soft coaking of a chuckle. You only grumble in response, reaching out to lightly punch his arm - to which he only chuckles at.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He finally sighs out, arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you back against him chest - kind of like a half hug, half cradle. "But what're doing here? Did you need something?" Steven tilits his head, the curious motion making him look more innocent than he actually is.

"I brought you lunch.." You murmured, adverted eyes looking down at paper bag clutched in your hand. There was a pause, a beat of silence as the words processed to Steven.

"...Darling, I don't have a mouth."

[circle--of--confusion]

Wip Wednesday!

Working on a Dracopia [as papa] / Reader fic where they exchange anonymous messages via a ministry matchmaking service. Reader is good friends with Copia and has been too chicken to reveal their secret.

“Have you read this?” You walk through the office door of Copia’s, the current Papa Emeritus the Fourth. “Papa found his ‘soulmate’ and thinks he can do that for us- are you filling out an application?”

Copia’s eyes snap up to yours, wide. He rushes to hide the piece of paper into a desk drawer but you’re too quick for him. “Sorella, please, give me mercy. I beg you.” He asks as you grab it from his hands.

“I didn’t take you for the begging type.” You raise your eyebrows up a couple times and you smirk at the double entendre. “Are you actually doing the matchmaking thing?”

His shoulders slump and he props his chin into his gloved fist as he presses his elbow in the desk. “Would that be so awful? I’ve been feeling… lonely as of late. Maybe it’s the weather.”

You tilt your head and chuckle. “Oh! I didn’t realize my company was so suffocating.” The words come out playful but Copia’s face changes to shock and he begins to apologize.

“No! Dolcezza, no I could never get tired of my time with you. I just… centuries on this earth all by myself have, eh, caught up to me I think?” He cringes, wringing his hands together as he looks at you.

You swat your hand in the air. “I’m fucking with you, Copia. Companionship is a natural thing to want. And for your sake, I hope you don’t get matched with someone who has a vampire kink or something.” His face is covered in paint but you can tell by the look of his face that he’s blushing.

His eyebrow raises and he smirks. “Would that be so bad?” you both laugh. “What are you doing here, by the way?”

“I need a reason now?” You shake your head. “It’s almost lunch time. I came to see if you’re dining out or if we need to bring you anything to eat here.”

Copia nods. “It’s to-go today, I’m afraid. My Black Mass speech is almost done but it needs a few tweaks.”

You nod, turning to grab his food. It probably could’ve been a text but he’s your friend and you haven’t seen a lot of Copia since he got back from his recent tour.  And you’ve missed your good friend. A deflated sigh leaves your lips. Your days were numbered, you knew that. He can’t keep spending all of his free time with some sibling even if you’ve known each other since his cardinal says before fronting the band.

And of course, the crush on the now Papa has been there since nearly the beginning. His awkward demeanor and random movie references endeared him to you almost instantly. The randomly coincidental lunches in the great hall moved to coordinated lunches as he slowly rose through the ranks. The two of you have been inseparable over the years and you kept telling yourself “One day I’ll tell him how I feel.” And then he looks at you a particular way and every word you’ve ever learned gets flushed out of your brain.  

You grumble into the kitchens, meeting the other papal assistants on their lunch breaks. You along with a handful of siblings are tasked to assist with anything the Papas might need. There’s a rotating schedule and this week is your week with Copia. There may or may not have been some bribery with the schedule maker to have the week he gets back from the tour.

“Hey! So is this delivery or is he leaving the office?” A sister, Carla, says as you enter.

“Delivery. And get this, you know I don’t like to gossip, but!” You look around to see if anyone else is around the corner. “Copia was filling out the matchmaking application.” You whisper-scream.

Carla looks back, stunned, and laughs. “I hope you remember what he wrote. You’re gonna need it when you fill out your application.” She nods and goes back to eating her salad.

“My application?” You scoff, deflecting. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm, right. Like you haven’t been pining after him for years. Tell me again, when was the last time you went on a date?” She points at you.

“Like… six months ago?”

Carla laughs. “And whatever happened with him?”

“Oh, that fizzled out. Around that time, I’d told Copia I hadn’t ever seen the Star Wars movies and he insisted on ‘educating’ me by watching one each night in release order.” She drops her fork into her bowl with a clang and looks at you with a pointed face as she chews. You roll your eyes. “What’s going on in your world this week with Papa Primo?”

Carla’s eyes perk up and she rushes to finish her bite. “He finally got clearance from Sister Imperator for a poison garden. A bit of a misnomer as it’ll also have the antidotes.”

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

Anyways ! I'm not sure when I'll post it but i want to get a bit more written before I upload the first chapter.

[cdelphiki]

Hi I just wanted to say that my roman empire for the last four years has literally been jason and the three terrors. It was jason and the three terrors in 2020 when I first found it after like chapter two I think and it's jason and the three terrors in 2024 fifty seven chapters in.

I think about it multiple times a day.

I am constantly rotating the characters, their interactions, possible plotlines and arcs and theories and endings in my head like a fucking microwave with my face pressed up against the glass.

Your fic has consumed me because of how good it is and frankly I am never going to be the same again. People talk about that ONE fic they never forget about even years later that like opened their third eye and for me this is it. I'm ruined forever now, sorry.

(all jokes aside, I think you're an incredibly talented writer and I would happily wait five years humming and kicking my feet for whatever you wanted to give whenever you were in a place to update. Love everything you do, I'm so incredibly grateful you decided to share this story and I hope both sides of your pillow will remain cool and comforting forever!)

🥹❤️❤️

You have no idea how much that means to me. This story has been a worm in my brain since 2019 when I started writing it, even when I was going through my rough patch there and wasn’t able to write much, this story was the one I went to sleep thinking about. I’ve imagined the Jason & Bruce reunion a million times. I’m so glad you’re still around after so long and just as excited about it as I am. Thanks for sticking around and thanks for sharing this with me. ❤️ you’ve truly made my night.

[wlwanakin]

AO3 Wrapped: Writer's Edition

tagged by @cheesenames and @animazi <3

Words written this year: 2,004 published, who knows how many unpublished

Works written this year: only one that i actually completed and published lmao. i started approximately 7 fics though

Work Most Proud of: a vile hunger for your hammering heart is, again, the only one i've finished. however i am earnestly very proud of how it came out. i think it's some of my best writing and i shocked myself by actually finishing it too

Work with Most Hits: since i only published one thing this year that is the answer. the fic with most hits overall is mercy killing, which is like three years old and was my first foray back into star wars fic after years of not writing anything for this wretched fandom

Fav title: i am bad at titling things and regret the titles i've given most of my fics, including vile hunger lmao. i tend to steal titles from other things, and in this case i stole an episode title from interview with the vampire that itself was taken from the novel. and the thing is that the passage in the book is about louis drinking from claudia to the point of death and grappling with how this desire to drain her contradicts what he actually wants and to me it's a turn of phrase that viscerally evokes violent grief, and on that level it's fitting, but also the fic itself was inspired not only mainly by the show (louis doesn't slit lestat's throat in the novel, it's all claudia) but also by an entirely different episode than the one whose title i stole. i really should've called it the thing lay still but it didn't quite evoke what i want and i could not get the phrase "a vile hunger for your hammering heart" out of my head. it just sounds prettier. all this to say, my favorite fic title is for one i have yet to release onto the world (because it's unfinished)

Pairing You Wrote the Most For: anidala lmao. i have a rotation i go through but i always come back to anidala

What Work was the Quickest To Write: i finished vile hunger in like a week after coming up with the idea a month or so before? i worked on it in spurts before locking in and writing the meat of it within a week. that like never happens so it was pretty crazy, i'm usually really slow. fastest ever would probably be mercy killing though i wrote that in like five hours in a sleep-deprived daze. both of these are anomalies

What Work Took You Longest To Write: i'm a ridiculously slow writer (which is why i have published only one fic this year) and i have also only finished like ten fics in the decade i've spent writing them. most of what i write takes six months to two years and gets abandoned rather than finished

How Many WIPS do you have for next year: i'm working on a bunch of stuff right now!! i've posted my list of wips before, but the big focuses are a one-shot about anakin and sabe being all weird and tense with each other while anakin represses gender dysphoria, a potential sequel to vile hunger which is mostly about post-partum psychosis, and my biggest project which is my modern au yuri anidala murder road trip fic

Longest Work of the Year: i only wrote one

Shortest Work of the Year: only wrote one

Fav character to Write: in general it's probably anakin because he's just so fundamentally fucked up and abnormal and to convey that you really have to develop a distinct voice. and it comes fairly easy to me because anakin's personality and issues just so happen to be fairly similar to mine and i can get really cerebral in his pov and that's my favorite. i have grown extremely fond of writing padme lately, though. she used to be a bit of an enigma to me in terms of writing her pov but i've been writing so much padme pov lately and i've finally gotten a grasp of the narrative voice i want to give her and her brand of neurosis is just so fun to delve into

Which work of yours have you re-read the most: vile hunger. i actually really like what i did with it!

Total Kudos this Year:

Total Hits This Year:

Total Bookmarks This Year:

Total Subscriptions This Year: skipped all of these bc i wrote one fic. just check that

What Do You Listen To While Writing: whatever music i'm into at the time. my writing go-tos are mitski, florence + the machine, keaton henson, ethel cain, phoebe bridgers, hozier, sufjan stevens and artists adjacent, but sometimes i try to match the tone of my wip and sometimes i just pick whatever i wanna listen to writing nonwithstanding. i wrote a lot of stuff to depeche mode and fontaines dc this year. the i saw the tv glow soundtack was also a big writing album for me. right now my go-to writing music is against me! and the smiths

Fav line or passage: most of my favorite passages are from wips and idk if that's allowed but this one from vile hunger is one i liked so much i used it as my summary:

She’s always thought Anakin is prettiest when he’s asleep. He rarely fell asleep before her, and she treasured those rare times he did, studying his face, the near-angelic softness of his relaxed features. Soft isn’t a word most would use to describe Anakin, but it’s always the first word she thought of on those nights, watching him in the early stages of this comfortable, nightmare-free sleep he could never get anywhere else. It was something no one else got to see, and as much as she wished he could find peace outside of her she still selfishly treasured that he couldn’t, that she got to have moments like those that were totally and entirely hers. He looks the same as he did on those precious nights, even with blood still seeping from his gaping neck. She’s cradled his head like this countless times, always gentle to ensure she wouldn’t wake him up, endlessly grateful to have him in her arms and pushing back the ever-nagging fear that one day he’ll return to her a corpse. And now he has returned to her arms again, peaceful and pretty and dead and totally and entirely hers.

tagging @officialfoxsquadron and idk who else bc most of my writer friends aren't super active on here!! but if u wanna do this go crazy