#navigating ao3

[blank-potato]

♡୨୧⋆｡Masterlist ⋆｡୨୧♡

Started: 11/05/25 || Last Updated: 26/06/25 || Total works: 56

Fandoms: The Wheel of Time, Marvel (Thunderbolts), The White Lotus (Season 3), Carême, Anora, Cruel Intentions (TV), True Blood, Yellowjackets, Scream, Teen Wolf

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

The Wheel of Time

The Wheel of Time Masterlist

Marvel

Marvel (Thunderbolts) Masterlist

The White Lotus

The White Lotus Masterlist

Cruel Intentions (TV)

Cruel Intentions Masterlist

Anora

Anora (Vanya Zakharov) Masterlist

Carême

x Reader

Antonin Carême

— Take A Bite

— Savour It

True Blood

x Reader

Jason Stackhouse

— Close To You

Yellowjackets

Ships

Lottie Matthews/Natalie Scatorccio

— Way Cool Baby Love

Scream

Ships

Stu Macher/Sidney Prescott

— A Guy That I'd Kinda Be Into

Ethan Landry/Chad Meeks-Martin

— i don't want to miss you (like i do)

Teen Wolf

Ships

Stiles Stilinski/Isaac Lahey

— I Hate Your Stupid Face

Misc.

Ships

The Hunger Games (TBOSBAS) - Coriolanus Snow/Sejanus Plinth

— I Would Follow Him Anywhere

The Selection - Maxon Schreave/Aspen Leger

— Waltz For Sweatpants

The Strange Case of Jekyll and Hyde - Henry Jekyll/John Utterson/Edward Hyde

— Affections Like Ivy

[dollopole]

I was just thinking about the fact that in so many Merlin fics, Merlin keeps being an healer/doctor/medic, which makes sense, since that’s how he started his life, by helping people however he could, but now consider this:

Merlin, who has lived so long and more than probably witnessed the deaths of thousands, even of those he loved, cherished and respected. So what if a millennia of life completely flipped his view on what it means to heal and study medicine. What if after all Merlin saw, everything that happened had the opposite effect on him, which means that he stopped trying and left the job to someone else.

Merlin still helps, surely, in the end, it’s in his nature as human, but we can already see how he changed, even only after ten years of being in Camelot and witnessing death after death.

What if he despaired because disease spread and not even his magic could help it, what if his magic decided that humans had to live with their own course of actions and so his magic simply refused to help them, which got Merlin just angry at the prospect of doing this for so many years.

But now take into consideration when Arthur returns:

I believe Arthur would be the healer/doctor/medic this time around.

He would be eager to help everyone he can, because that’s also in his nature, but since he can’t do it anymore in the way he once did, he has to find another path for him, a path that would make him heal too, heal from all the times he killed, instead of helping someone in danger.

Arthur lived a life of death even before Merlin could start to think about killing someone.

Arthur had his hands smeared with blood since he was a child. Being Uther’s son was automatically, in both magical people and peasants’ perspective, who lived under Uther’s tyranny, a sin and a guilt, even before Arthur could pick up a sword.

He did not just kill sorcerers, but he was raised with a mind of a killer of justice. To defend his kingdom, his father, his counsellors, his court and his people no matter what he felt regarding it, was and had always been his main duty.

He was trapped in a murderous cycle, literally, where he couldn’t do anything but raise himself to believe that the only way to help people was to kill them.

On one side, we have a man who spent his life helping people and who got tired of death, and on the other side, we got another man who spent it killing people and still got tired of death.

But to Arthur and Merlin it happened in different ways.

Where Merlin left the responsibility to someone else, Arthur decided to take that responsibility himself, in the hope that maybe, one day, he could bring back to life all those he had condemned for the simple act of living as themselves.

[totallyottie99]

The strongest twins in weirdmageddon

[hemi-demi]

Oop, Martin might have put a little too much effort in his performance review.

Jon will be fine though...probably.

You can see all 4 images in the set, uncensored, on my Bluesky

‹<–First Post <- Prev

The game is all done! Thanks to everyone who played and gave me Martin lots of encouragement. Would love to do this again sometime (if Jon can afford another dry cleaning bill, anyway)

[lilacxquartz]

Hi! I’m Lilac! I write all sorts of things from smut to adventure to fluff to dark content. Below you’ll find a list of everything I have posted to tumblr so far. I have even more stuff on AO3 but it’s all cross-posted on tumblr for the recent stuff.

If you want to read a series (3 or more chapters), then I have a chapter directory for your convenience. 💜

Warnings might apply, please be mindful of tags and read at your own risk if it‘s something potentially upsetting.

On requests, please read here.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Homicipher Masterlist

Gravity Falls Masterlist

Original works masterlist

Uncategorised Fandom Masterlist (includes a list for fields of mistria, attack on titan, chainsaw man and mob psycho 100, but ultimately, not enough works to get its own main list)

Kinktober 2024

JJK Bite Sized Yandere Nightmares

[v88sy]

Every time I venture into the Bucktommy ao3 tags without filters, for curiosity and to check numbers, I remember why I have my filters so strict.

[mamawasatesttube]

what if the kon & clark tag was actually about kon & clark and not 5893298 ~batfamily~ fics? can you imagine? can you imagine a world where it was possible to go into superfamily tags and actually find things about the superfamily? can you imagine? waiter, why are these rodents in my soup? this is not what i ordered

[buddierecs]

♡ buddie fics navigation list ♡

welcome to my buddie fic rec account <3 this is a navigation to all of the fics posted on this account. It starts with the explicit, mature and general audience (which includes teen and up & not rated works) and will go into smaller categories.

- explicit (will often be very explicit! 18+ only / do not engage if it makes you uncomfortable!) - mature - general audience - mixed rated lists - aly's personal recommendations

please remember that these are a work in progress, they will be updated often! & if anyone has any tropes/tags that you would like to be added, please feel free to message me or comment below!

make sure to kudos/comment on all these amazing works. they are all truly incredible !!! ♡ personal note: this is a secondary account, my primary account is @kiwibuckley so if i follow you back, it will say that username not buddierecs :)

[ink-stainedkiss]

My Masterlist

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

𝑱𝑱𝑲

Smaus

𝘖𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

Sleep with me? (Not like that.) - Yuji Itadori

Scary Boyfriend Privileges - Satoru Gojo

Love is So Cruel - Yuji Itadori

Graying Skies - Megumi Fushiguro

Nuisance - Ryomen Sukuna

Peace - Satoru Gojo & Suguru Geto

Pretty when you cry - Suguru Geto

Crawlin back to you - Nanami Kento

Past scars - Satoru Gojo & Suguru Geto

are we still friends? - Satoru Gojo

𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴

Intertwined - Ryomen Sukuna

On Campus: The Prize of Affection - Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo

𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

Tattoo Artist!Gojo

Nerd!Gojo

𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴

“You’re a freak” - Toji Fushiguro

Hugs & Kisses - all

House Husband - Toji Fushiguro

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

𝑺𝒂𝒊𝒌𝒊 𝑲

𝘖𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

A New Feeling - Kusuo Saiki

Study Date - Shun Kaidou

The Little Things - Kusuo Saiki

𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴

You’re Nothing Special (AKA:Perfect) - Kusuo Saiki

Pt.1 Pt.2

𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

Coming soon..

𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴

Coming soon…

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

𝑴𝑯𝑨

𝘖𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

My Treasure - Eijirou Kirishima

𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴

Tell Me You Love Me (Tell Me I’m Your Baby) - Denki Kaminari

Pt.1 pt.2

𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

Boyfriend!Shinsou

Boxer!Katsuki

𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴

‘Jacked & Kind’ w/ Bhna Boy Trio

[ladythornofrivia]

🐲👑 KINGDOM OF FIRE AND BLOOD MASTERLIST 👑🐲

SUMMARY: modern!reader fell into the universe that she’d never expect, especially encountering a one-eye dragon prince under a mighty house reign with fire and blood.

~ Aemond x Reader ~

👑 KINGDOM OF FIRE AND BLOOD 👑

Chapter One: The Dark Uproar

Chapter Two: The Green Star

Chapter Three: The House of Black & Green

Chapter Four: The Wandering Light

Chapter Five: The Council

Chapter Six: The Rebirth of Lady Greenstar

Chapter Seven: The Price of Heart

Chapter Eight: The Escape

Chapter Nine: The Bite of a Lady

Chapter Ten: The Children of Dragon

Chapter Eleven: The Shadow of a One-Eyed Dragon

Chapter Twelve: The Sons of Winter

Chapter Thirteen: The Dragon & The Wolf

Chapter Fourteen: The Feud of Birthright & Bastards

Chapter Fiftteen: The Maiden in Sea

Chapter Sixteen: The Wrath of a Dragon

Chapter Seventeen: The Tourney

Chapter Eighteen : The Taste of Depravity

(Disclaimer: some chapter titles will either be changed or added with a new chapter for the sake of an extension for plot and long details.)

@ ladythornofrivia - all rights reserved.

[i-like-rocks22]

I have realised you'll probably all enjoy the presentation I gave at the PowerPoint Party we had for my husband's birthday.

It was VERY detailed.

[totallyottie99]

Chapter 4 coming soon!

[penvisions]

dev's navigation {hello and welcome!}

dev / pen || 30's || she / they || cat mom || mobility impaired || undergrad student || pastry goddess || pedro lover

i am an adult, writing about adult things even if there is no smut content (there is, don't worry) so my blog and little corner of the internet is strictly 18+ || angst royalty

current wips:

gone to the dogs {qz! joel miller x reader}

services requested {older! joel miller x sugar momma! reader}

black hole sun {joel miller through the ages x f! reader}

on hiatus / now complete:

of beskar and kyber {din djarin x force sensitive! reader}

stages of devotion {younger! joel miller x baker! reader}

recent one shots / drabbles:

can't, won't {joel miller x f! reader}

one morning {joel miller fix it}

one trail or another {din djarin x reader}

bear my weight {qz! joel miller x disabled! reader}

upcoming fics:

buckles and barley {rancher! jack daniels x ranch hand! reader}

in search of honor {hunter! din djarin x sacrifice! reader}

manners are important {clint flood x reader}

work conduct {dave york x coworker! reader}

-> main masterlist || joel miller masterlist || drabble masterlist || frankie morales masterlist || ao3 link || ko-fi

hopefully you find something that you enjoy and thank you for being here! hope the days are good to you and feel free to reach out to chat, my dms and inbox are always open for anything, loves ♡

dividers by the lovely @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

[heartbeats-exe]

📂 corrupted archives: fic index

📇 completed works

☁️ i thought if i kept you close, i could keep you ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | modern roommates AU | mutual pining, domestic porn, grumpy & sunshine | [50k] “they cook. they fight. they love. just not out loud.”

🩹"All the Ways I Tried Not to Love You" ➤ James Potter/Sirius Black | Marauders angst | spiralling, yearning, disaster bi | [20k] “unrequited love. except it isn’t.”

🍬 two ships that pass (in the night) ➤ Percy Jackson/Peter Parker | one-shot | crossover | strangers, warmth, poverty, hope | [5k] “a candy bar, a freezing night, a boy with a hug like the sun.”

ᝰ🖋️ works in progress

📜 SVSSS

🩸 stick a needle in your hungry eye for me ➤ Shen Jiu/Tianlang-Jun | brothel AU | trauma, seduction, devotion | unreliable narrator sj, obsessed tlj | [target: 100k] torn open, dressed pretty, and worshipped like a god—he lets him stay.

🎭 The Shixiong Who Made Me Maliciously Enamoured ➤ Shen Yuan/Shen Jiu | romantic comedy | scum villain reform project | emotional repression vs shixiong delusion | [10k+, ongoing] he’s here to annoy the future scum villain into reforming—with mentorship, sword drills, and absolutely not a crush. it’s professional. really.

📜 MDZS

🕊️ till the end of the war, and then // 直到战争结束, 然后 ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | post-campaign | grief, war scars, hard love | [60k, target: 200k] the swords are down, but they’re still bleeding.

🌸 i bloom just for you ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | post-siege canon divergence | omega!JC, alpha!WWX, seduction, touch-starved desperation | [18k] Wei Wuxian's leaving for the Burial Mounds again. so Jiang Cheng—feral, jealous, grieving—decides to make him stay. not with a fight. with a whimper. a kiss. a moan. a cunt.

💔 you’re all i’ve ever known to want ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | modern AU | exes to almost again | jealousy, grief, emotional repression | [target: 80k] five years, one broken relationship, and too many hands touching what used to be his.

🥀 in another life, you stayed ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | canon divergence | grief, time fuckery, slow healing, falling back in love | [target: 85k] he wakes in a world where he never died—but someone else got to keep him.

companion fics: 🪷 in another life, i would tell you / what i kept inside when i held you ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | falling in love at lotus pier fic | snapshots of first love and old memories | [15k] night hunts, almost-kisses, and a silence full of everything they never said. 👶🏻 in another life, you still would've turned my head ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | crack | time travel shenanigans, established chengxian, magical lotus baby | [40k] he’s happy for once and raising a child with his Shixiong. it’s... fine.

🧚🏻‍♀️ i did nothing wrong except fall in love with a pocket-sized fairy :( ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | fairy AU | sacred offerings, magical bonding, mistaken courtship | [5k] he thought it was just innocent teasing. what do you mean we're now bonded for life ??!??!!?!

🍯 honey, loaded ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng (+Lan Wangji) | mafia AU | ex sex worker JC, undercover WWX, mob boss LWJ | obsession, revenge, manipulation | [target: 100k] he’s pretty, dangerous, and already spoken for—Wei Wuxian wants him anyway.

🪷 he left, and i was the one who withered ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | hanahaki AU | pining, lotus petals, twin prides grief | [target: 40k] he's still coughing up petals, and Wei Wuxian still isn’t looking.

🕯️ inevitable, but not you ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | time travel fix-it | fate rewritten, slowly | canon wwx time travels to cloud recesses | [target: 75k] maybe this story was never about Lan Wangji at all.

🫧 it all spills out, reckless and honest ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | role reversal AU | caretaker WWX, firecracker JC | [10k] Wei Wuxian heals. Jiang Cheng burns. they both want to be held.

🔪 shidi withdrawal is a medical condition !!! ➤ Wei Wuxian/Jiang Cheng | cloud recesses arc crack | clingy WWX, feral longing | [target: 25k] he’s not pining. he’s plotting. there’s a difference.

📜 Harry Potter

🕷 crush me like a rumour ➤ Bellatrix Black/James Potter | Marauders AU | pureblood society, forbidden romance | [5k] it was a dare. he still kissed her back.

🫀 in the spaces between heartbeats ➤ Regulus Black/Harry Potter | time travel AU | slytherin Harry, grief, slow hunger, horcrux hunting, slow burn | [target: 50k] he’s in 1977, sorted wrong, wanting someone he shouldn’t. all while needing to find and destroy the horcruxes.

📜 Miraculous Ladybug

🎮 help! i’ve been reincarnated into a dating sim and everyone wants me ➤ Luka Couffaine/Adrien Agreste | Adrien-centric | Otome game AU | SVSSS inspired | dating sim hell | [10k] Adrien died and woke up inside a dating sim. he wants out. the game wants him.

📜 Vanitas no Carte

💘 lying side by side ➤ Noé Archiviste/Vanitas | Mr & Mrs Smith AU | rival spy agencies, failed domesticity, aching love | [target: 80k] married, still in love, and both pretending not to notice the lies—until the mission says otherwise.

[honeyvettel]

maybe i'm too young / to keep good love from going wrong | pedro/fermin, angst, not actually unrequited love, eventual smut. set after jerez 2025. [3k] (now on AO3)

it had been a while since pedro had truly come home. the guilt started to settle in his belly last week, when his mother, voice trembling on the phone, nearly broke into tears telling him how much she missed him. he knows she gets like this during the first leg of the season, when the races carries him so far across the world that there were no short trips back to mazarrón between weekends. so pedro has this weight sitting in his chest that he doesn't know how to handle, except to promise his mother that he'd come when the european leg begins. that she can make him all the zarangollo she wants. at that, she laughs—a soft, watery sound—and the tears seem to ebb. “come for sant jordi,” she says, gently. “we’ll have lunch in the backyard, like the old times.”

so pedro does what his mother asks. he turns up on the twenty-third, just past noon; his shirt is a little wrinkled from where he’d forgotten it in the suitcase, and his hair is still damp at the roots, disheveled, but he carries a bouquet of red roses in his hands, so maybe that’s enough to make up for the rest. miriam opens the door before he can knock, as if she’d been waiting there, listening for the sound of his car. her face lights up, and she pulls him close with both arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek that leaves a smudge of coral lipstick near his jaw. “mum,” pedro greets, half-protesting, wiping at the mark with the sleeve of his shirt. “oh, pedro. they’re beautiful,” she says as soon she eyes the flowers, already blinking back tears. she takes his hand without asking, and then leads him down the hall. “come, come. i’m so happy you’re here.” pedro hears the party before he sees it—laughter, the slosh of sangria inside her mother’s mismatched glasses, his nephews running around and shouting. there’s a long table set under the shade of their lemon tree, covered in a white cloth weighed down at the corners with stones. and then— pedro’s throat clicks. he stops, between the kitchen and the backyard. “you didn’t tell me the aldeguers would be here.” outside, fermín is pushing his niece on the swing. pedro catches the curve of his smile as penelope kicks her legs forward, squealing. “they’re always here, pedro,” his mother replies. she throws him one of those looks he thought she’d stopped giving him when he turned twelve, when he used to come home with scraped knees and a guilty mouth. “don’t tell me you and fermín are still not speaking.” pedro reaches for the sink, fills a glass with ice-cold water. his fingers tremble slightly. “you don’t know anything, mamá,” he says, but the edge in his voice betrays him. now that he’s noticed, he can’t unhear the sound of fermín’s laugh, sharp and sunlit above penelope’s shouts. she’s always adored him, even though they’ve only met a handful of times over the years. pedro never quite understood why. his mother steps right next to him. “you’re right,” she says, sharply. “i don’t know anything. but that’s because you don’t tell me anymore, pedro.” she touches his arm, and then sighs a quiet, tired sound. she glances outside, and pedro already knows who she is looking at. “fermín told his mother you two just... drifted. nothing more. and i suppose that happens, at your age, with everything you both have going on. but this—” she pauses. “this doesn’t look like that. i can see you.” pedro doesn’t speak. he keeps sipping his water, like he might swallow the shame that sticks to the inside of his throat. he doesn’t know what his mother expects him to say. because that’s what happened. if curling inward like a frightened animal, shutting his mouth and refusing to speak to fermín for two whole months before packing up for madrid counts as drifting apart—then yes. that’s exactly what they did. pedro sets his glass down, refuses to meet his mother’s eyes when he feels them sitting hot against his neck.

outside, the heat folds around him, warm enough that sweat gathers beneath his arms, traces a line along the curve of his lower back. he slides into an empty chair caught between his uncle and aunt, planting his feet on the brittle grass like he’s trying to root himself there. when penelope comes tumbling from the swing, hair wild, cheeks flushed, pedro leans over and kisses her cheek. she giggles and climbs into his lap like she never noticed he was gone at all, chatters away about school, friends, about a drawing she made for homework that used every single colored pencil she owns. pedro smiles, nods, hums in all the right places. just at the edge of his vision, fermín sits a few seats down, turned slightly toward his mother and sister. their eyes don’t meet, but pedro can feel him anyway, like a scar flaring up at the wrong time. he takes a sip of wine—dry and red, that burns pleasantly down his throat— and he leans back into the chair. he lets the weight of the sun smudge the edges of things, just for a while.

by the time his aunt leaves, the garden has emptied into silence. the leftover wine bottles glisten with condensation, and penelope has forgotten her toy truck in the grass. pedro helps his mother carry in the last plates, hands moving without thought, like they used to on lunches like this, years ago. she hums softly as she scrubs at the sink, and he dries dishes beside her, the quiet between them more companionable now. “you’re tired,” she says eventually, not looking at him. “go on. i’ll finish this.” pedro wants to protest—to say something about making up for time lost, about being grown, responsible— but the wine sits like a stone in his belly now, sloshing thickly every time he shifts. he only nods, gives her a kiss to the cheek and then turns toward the stairs.

his old bedroom is just as he left it, though it feels smaller now. the posters are still pinned to the wall—some curling at the corners, one of rossi nearly colorless, kissed dry by the sun. when he reaches for the mattress the bedsheets smell just the same—lavender, softened by his mother’s body soap, still clinging. he lies back, arms folded beneath his head, and stares at the ceiling until the slow sweep of the fan begins to tilt the room sideways. he doesn’t know how long he’s been lying there when he hears the stairs creak again. he sits up just as the door opens. “your mother gave me this for your stomach.” fermín lingers in the doorway, holding a mug of something steaming. “manzanilla. with a bit of honey.” he crosses the room and sets the cup gently on the nightstand. pedro watches him linger in the doorway, tall enough that his head nearly brushes the frame, now. his gaze flicks upward once, brief and unreadable, before settling somewhere just over pedro’s shoulder. “you could’ve told me you’d be here,” pedro says, the words slipping out before he can pull them back. fermín’s brow ticks, just slightly. “it’s saint jordi’s. i’m always here.” “right, of course.” that comes out sharper than pedro intended; he sees the way fermín straightens a little, defensive. “i didn’t know it would be a problem,” he adds, more careful now. “it’s not.” pedro looks away, jaw clenched. his fingers tug absently at the corner of the bedsheet, thumb tracing the seam over and over. he tries to ignore how the room feels smaller with fermín in it—how the quiet stretches between them, tight and thrumming. “i just didn’t expect to see you,” he says after a moment, quieter. “that’s all.”

“yeah, well. surprise.”

something about his tone gets under pedro’s skin almost immediately. he sits up straighter, the dull pulse behind his eyes beginning to throb more insistently. he looks fermín straight into his eyes. “what’s wrong with you.” fermín lets out a low, incredulous laugh, like he’s trying not to let it turn into something mean. he folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the door. “me?” he says, voice lifting with disbelief, hurt packed tight under the sarcasm. “are you serious, pedro? jesus.” hearing his name from fermín’s mouth after all this time makes pedro almost flinch. he recoils instinctively, pulling himself back against the pillows like the extra inches might somehow protect him from the mess he started. “i showed up because your mother asked me to.” pedro stares at him, disbelief softening into hurt. “and you just said yes? after—everything?” “i didn’t think you’d even be here,” fermín says, and it comes out sharp, almost cruel. “it’s not like you ever are.” pedro goes still for a breath—just one—and then something in him breaks. he swings his legs off the bed and rises too fast, the room tilting slightly. in two steps he’s there, crowding into fermín’s space, his hands clutching fistfuls of the soft, expensive fabric of his polo.  “say it,” he snarls, hands trembling at his sides. “go ahead. say what you really mean. that i left. that it was all my fault.” god, he wants to swing his fist right into fermín’s perfect mouth, smear blood across the pale blue walls of his bedroom and not feeling guilty about it. maybe people are right when they call him hot-headed. too aggressive, too brazen. always ready to throw away his career for the sake of a worthless inch. because this— this unbearable stillness, the weight of fermín’s gaze pressing down on him—this is so much harder. because fermín still doesn’t move. his arms stay folded across his chest, posture maddeningly calm, like he’d seen this moment coming a mile off and decided to let it hit anyway. and that drives pedro up the wall. he doesn’t think when he lunges; doesn’t ask, either, when his mouth suddenly crushes against fermín’s like it’s a dare, like he’s trying to tear something open out of fermín’s own lips. there’s only teeth and breath and the bitter salt of regret still burning at the pit of pedro’s stomach. and the most absurd part is that fermín is letting him. he stands there, unmoving, —one long, blistering second where pedro feels his heart lurch painfully inside his chest— and then, slowly, his mouth opens, warm and bruising. his hands find the waistband of pedro’s jeans, fingers curling in like claws, yank him closer until there’s no air between them, just a single desperate molten line of heat shoved up against the wall. pedro groans, a broken sound that cracks right out of his chest. his hand flies to the back of fermín’s neck, thumb digging just under that stupid little tattoo behind his ear. fermín melts, pliant and yielding, and pedro just clutches harder, desperate to memorize the shape of it; he thinks this would probably be the last time he has the opportunity to do such a thing—to feel the heat of fermín's mouth against his tongue, the way he still breathes too fast when kissed like this, faint trace of cologne clinging to his collarbone and invading his nostrils. the thought spins for a second inside his skull, and his throat tightens so fast he nearly chokes. something sour hot claws its way up into his mouth—shame, grief, the sheer wrongness of wanting this and hating it all at once— and he pulls away like the air’s been sucked out of him. fermín stares at him one inch from his nose—stunned now, all that calm, infuriating control of before gone and forgotten. he just watches pedro, chest rising and falling fast. “that’s why?” he finally says, throat scraped. “that’s why you stopped talking to me?”

pedro just stands there, trembling, like he might come apart at the seams if someone so much as breathes too hard. he feels the sting behind his eyes first, then the tears welling, traitorous and hot. he hates it. hates himself. hates this. “shut up,” he spits. “shut up.” the fury rises again, and he grabs a fistful of fermín’s shirt and shoves him backward onto the bed. pedro straddles him before fermín can protest, before he himself has a chance to think better of it. his fingers go for the belt, pulling at the leather, but his hands won’t stop shaking. his vision blurs—wine and tears and panic making everything look both too close and miles away. “pedro,” fermín calls somewhere above him, but pedro doesn’t listen. because that’s what he does, doesn’t he; his mother has told him since he was a boy. the belt finally gives way, the buckle clattering open; pedro grabs at the zipper next, fingers clumsy, but then two hands close tight around his wrists. “hey.” fermín’s voice cuts through, solid. pedro doesn’t even think of lifting his head. if he does, he knows he’ll bolt; he’ll shatter into something stupid and small, something he won’t be able to put back together. but fermín doesn’t grip him harder; he eases instead, fingers loosening a second later, stroking his thumb in a slow arc across the inside of his wrist. “breathe, pedro,” fermín says, softer now. “come on. breathe.” pedro realizes, with a sick twist in his gut, that he hasn’t been for the past minute. his lungs are tight, throat clogged, and he can feel the room spinning. he gasps in a lungful of air until his lungs seizes painfully, and then takes another. and then another. his pulse stops crashing against his ribs, his hands unclench against fermín’s stomach. he doesn’t dare to speak, and neither fermín; he just lies there, letting pedro’s weight press him into the mattress, knees digging around the softness of his thighs. one of his hands remains cupped around his wrist, warm and steady, while the other drifts up slowly, brushing against the back of pedro’s head, fingers threading gently through sweat-damp curls. it’s always the same damn story, pedro figures. he fucks up, he burns too hot. and somehow, somehow, it’s always fermín who pulls him back. 

“easy, c’mon,” fermín soothes, and he shifts slightly beneath him, but he doesn’t pull away. their knuckles bump clumsily when he reaches down, fingers working open the button of his jeans and then through the rasp of the zipper. “alright?” he tuds, and he squeezes the nape of pedro's neck, makes him finally look up to him. pedro feels utterly ridiculous; cheeks blotted with heat and tears, shirt all rumpled and ruined. but fermín’s eyes remain unwavering, and so he nods, frantically, like asking for forgiveness. when their mouths meet again, pedro can’t help but close his eyes, feeling something inside him loosen like a ribbon. his hand begin to move again, tracing the line of fermín’s hip, dipping past the waistband to find his cock, warm and half-hard against his stomach. he tries to keep inside his body, to the steadiness of fermín’s touch still at the back of his neck. he wants to disappear into it until there’s no more room for thought, but just fermín and his warmth and his mouth. pedro keeps stroking him, the movement unpracticed, uneven; he can feel how his hand falters—how it doesn’t quite know what it’s doing—but he keeps going, guided by the soft, involuntary sounds fermín lets slip against the shell of his ear. pedro’s hips roll with the motion, tries to steady himself in the precarious balance of their bodies, sensation piling over sensation until it threatens to drown him. it doesn’t take much before he comes, damp and sudden in his underwear that feels like he’s falling. fermín follows slightly after, arches into his fist with a moan that vibrates straight through pedro’s spine. for the following two minutes, neither of them moves. pedro’s hand is still curled loosely around the softening cock, breath hitching as the haze begins to clear. when he realizes, he lets out a shaky breath, and wipes his hand clean against the fabric of his own pants . “s–sorry,” he mutters, voice barely more than a croak. he slips off fermín’s lap with his limbs trembling, as he retreats to the edge of the bed. beside him, he can hear the rustle of fermín pulling up his jeans, the flat drag of his palm smoothing his hair back into place. he feels the need to offer something, but the words scatter before they reach his mouth. shame climbs up his neck, blooms hot in his ears. there you are again, pedro thinks. ancient friend.  “fermín—” he starts, voice splintered. but fermín is already on his feet, taking a step back from the bed. “did you mean for any of it to happen?” he asks, voice trembling slightly. pedro blinks. “i don’t know.” he stares at the cup of manzanilla gone cold on his bedside table, how his mother has planned all of this and he hadn’t even seen it coming. “i– i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” fermín doesn’t move, just stands there with his arms folded across his chest again, shoulders tense. his gaze flicks briefly toward the floor, then back to pedro. “don’t disappear again.” he swallows, throat dry. “call me. before le mans.”

pedro looks up to meet his eyes; the light in the bedroom has shifted—just enough to make the color a shade darker than before. suddenly, he realizes how much he’s missed that, how he used to guess the exact shade when the sun moved, when the sky turned. he nods, too quickly. “okay,” he says. then, slower, steadier: “yeah. i will.”fermín hesitates in the doorway, letting out a slow, tired sigh. his eyes scan pedro’s face like he’s looking for something he’s not sure he’ll find. then he nods, curtly. and he leaves.

[galactic-rhea]

🦜Heya! You can call me Rhea. Venezuelan. 20s . Any pronouns. Genderqueer aroace and Neurodivergent.

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