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pankowcrumbs · 2 months ago

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Loving you in public X Chris Evans (Requested)

MasterList

Marvel MasterList

I adjusted the strap of my gown, trying to ignore the tightening in my chest. The hotel suite buzzed with activity stylists, makeup artists, and handlers scurried around, making final touches before we all headed to the premiere. And yet, all I could focus on was the silence.

His silence.

Chris and I had broken things off just five days ago.

It wasn’t explosive. No slamming doors or cruel words. It was the kind of quiet heartbreak that leaves you feeling hollow. We said we needed space, that the timing wasn’t right. I said I was tired of hiding, and he said he wasn’t ready for the whole world to know. We were two people who loved each other, trying not to ruin what was already cracking.

“Y/N?” Scarlett’s voice broke through my daze. She tilted her head, brows knit together as she stepped closer. “You alright?”

I forced a smile. “Yeah. Just a bit nervous.”

It was a weak excuse one she saw right through.

She didn’t press, just nodded and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before walking over to the mirror. I caught my reflection as I followed her movements. My eyes were lined in gold, lips painted a soft rose, and my dress shimmered like liquid midnight. I looked like the perfect Hollywood actress.

But inside, I felt like I was splintering.

The car ride to the red carpet was filled with chatter. Scarlett, Anthony, and Sebastian were cracking jokes, trying to keep the energy light, but I knew what they were doing.

They were trying to keep me from falling apart.

“You know,” Anthony said casually, “I heard Evans is arriving just before we do. Said something about avoiding the flashbulbs.”

I stiffened. Of course he was. He always hated the media chaos. But I knew better. He didn’t want to see me.

“He’s a bloody coward,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

Seb laughed into his drink, choking. “There she is.”

“What?” I asked.

“That’s the Y/N we’ve missed,” Scarlett said with a small grin. “The one who actually says what she’s thinking.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” I said, quieter this time. “And none of it’s been very fun.”

We pulled up to the venue, and I plastered on my press-ready smile. As the car door opened and the crowd screamed, I stepped out into a blinding wave of camera flashes.

The carpet was long, endless, suffocating.

Each interview felt rehearsed. Smile, laugh, talk about how excited you are for the film. Dodge the question about your love life. Rinse, repeat.

Then I saw him.

Chris stood a few feet away, looking annoyingly handsome in a perfectly tailored tux, that familiar beard trimmed just so. He was laughing at something Paul Rudd had said, but when his eyes caught mine, his smile faltered.

Only for a second. But it was enough.

He looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days.

Good. I hadn’t either.

I moved away quickly, grabbing Scarlett’s hand like a lifeline. “Let’s find the others.”

“Sure,” she said gently, leading me toward a small group of castmates doing press together.

But it didn’t matter how far I moved. I could still feel his presence.

Later, we were ushered into the green room before the screening started. There was a soft buzz of conversation, laughter, the clinking of glasses. Brie passed me a flute of champagne and raised her eyebrows.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N, love,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

I looked around. He wasn’t in the room yet. But it was only a matter of time. “I just need some air.”

I pushed through the door and stepped into a quiet corridor, heels clicking softly on the marble floor. I leaned against the wall, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

I should’ve been stronger. But the worst part was I still loved him. Every bloody piece of me did. And I hated myself for it.

“You’re doing that breathing thing again.”

I froze.

His voice.

I turned, and there he was. Chris. Standing only a few feet away, hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what else to do with them. His tie was slightly loosened, his eyes tired but soft.

“I didn’t know you were back here,” I said, arms folded.

“You always say that when you’re overwhelmed. The breathing trick. In through the nose, out through the mouth. You taught it to me, remember?”

Of course I remembered.

“Why are you here, Chris?”

“Same reason you are. Needed a break from the noise.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend like everything’s fine. Like we’re just colleagues bumping into each other behind the scenes.”

He looked down, then back up. “I’m not pretending.”

I laughed bitterly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he said it softly, hesitantly. “I miss you.”

I looked away, blinking rapidly. “Don’t.”

“I do. Every second. I thought space would make things clearer, but all I see now is you. Everywhere.”

“You said you couldn’t handle the public knowing,” I whispered. “That it would ruin everything.”

“I was scared.”

I scoffed. “Of what? Loving someone out loud?”

“Of losing you because of the pressure,” he said. “Because I’ve messed things up before and I didn’t want to mess us up too.”

“Well, congratulations. You did anyway.”

He stepped forward, slow, cautious. “I never stopped loving you, Y/N. Not for a second.”

Tears threatened to spill, and I hated him for making me cry in a hallway in heels and diamonds.

“Then why didn’t you fight for me?” I said, my voice cracking.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” he admitted. “You walked away so quietly.”

“Because I didn’t want to beg,” I said. “I didn’t want to be the only one trying.”

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Sebastian poked his head in. “Hey, not to interrupt your dramatic hallway moment, but actually, no. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Brie just locked the green room door and said no one’s allowed out until you two sort this out.”

Chris and I turned in sync. “What?”

Seb held up a keycard with a smirk. “You’re both locked in this corridor until you figure your shit out. Orders from Scarlett, Mackie, and about five other people. You’re welcome.”

Then he closed the door.

Chris blinked. “Did they just parent-trap us?”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Looks like it.”

We stood there, facing each other in stunned silence.

Then, without warning, he stepped forward, cupped my cheek gently, and said, “I’m sorry. For all of it. For letting fear win. For not choosing you out loud.”

I closed my eyes, tears slipping down. “I never wanted to hide. Not us.”

“I know,” he whispered. “And I don’t want to hide anymore either.”

I opened my eyes, searching his face. “What changed?”

“You leaving,” he said simply. “That was my wake-up call. I realised losing you in private is far worse than loving you in public.”

My heart thudded painfully. “Do you mean that?”

“Every word.”

A beat passed, then another.

And finally, finally, I stepped into him. His arms wrapped around me like they were meant to, like they never should’ve let go. I buried my face in his shoulder and breathed him in familiar, warm, home.

“I missed you too,” I murmured.

He pulled back just enough to look at me. “So… what do we do now?”

“We go out there,” I said, brushing a tear from my cheek, “and we give them a headline.”

His eyes lit up. “You serious?”

I nodded. “We’ve done everything else secretly. Let’s make this loud.”

A wide grin spread across his face one I hadn’t seen in weeks.

“You sure you want to be seen with me?”

I snorted. “Evans, please. You’re lucky I’m giving you a second chance.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, pulling me in for a quick, fierce kiss. “And I plan on earning it.”

When we finally walked back into the green room, hand in hand, the room fell quiet.

Then Scarlett clapped. “Well, it’s about bloody time.”

Brie grinned. “Told you it’d work.”

Mackie whooped. “Operation Get Those Idiots Back Together is officially a success!”

Chris leaned in and whispered, “You sure we’re not being too loud?”

I squeezed his hand. “Nope. This is exactly the kind of noise I want.”

And as we walked onto the red carpet his fingers laced tightly with mine, cameras flashing and fans screaming I realised something.

This wasn’t just our comeback.

It was our beginning.

#fanfiction #reader #x reader #one shot #requested #chris evans x reader #chris #evans #chris evans x you #chris evans one shot #chris evans fanfic #chris evans xy/n #chris evans x y/n #captain america #marvel cast #marvel

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johannestevans · 3 months ago

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I have manually cross-posted the bulk of my works to my site, and only have a little under 150 still to post across!

Once they're all done, I will then start going through and putting in my tags. In the meantime, you can search for kinks in the description!

Some short stories to start with:

A Fish Riding a Bicycle - Romance short. 4k. A repressed wizard is at odds with the Dean of Magical Arts’ new secretary.

Like A Thief and an Assassin - Rated M, 6,7k, M/M. A kooky thief at a for-hire intelligence agency starts to romance his handler. Banter and some back-and-forth, mounting sexual tension, age difference. Tone is playful and restrainedly horny.

Archival Management - Erotic short, 10k, cis M/M. Magical archivists in Camelot with the most mundane of delicious emotional and sexual issues. Featuring age difference, orgasm denial, oral, desperation, crying, a bit of mild humour and nastiness, delicious emotional manipulation, and a heavy dose of mind-reading.

Warden Gordon and the Angel in the Woods - Fantasy short. Working in a magical national park, Gryff Gordon has a contentious relationship with a local angel.Fantasy short. Working in a magical national park, Gryff Gordon has a contentious relationship with a local angel.

Gellert's New Job - Gellert has worked as a business manager for the King family for nearly a decade when an error in judgement brings his employment to an abrupt end. Lucien Pike, a rival kingpin, employs his services instead. Fantasy, crime, and a good bit of dark humour. 21k. Rated M. Transgender, autistic man’s POV; both protagonists are autistic.

Daddy's Boy - In the magical smuggling town of Lashton, the youngest son of the Laithes, a prominent crime family, struggles to make himself heard and accepted by his family, especially his father. At the age of 17, he undergoes a metamorphosis. 23k, rated E for violence, featuring Dai Laithe, Oidhche Laithe, and the rest of the Laithe family, with some appearances from Gellert Osgodby and to a lesser extent, Lucien Pike.

Divine Bodies - Erotic Short. The god Freyr expects good work from his priests, but gives good rewards. Featuring transness, divinity, magical HRT, size differences, come inflation, consensual nonconsent, somnophilia, gangbangs, stomach bulges, come inflation, public humiliation, power dynamics, nature imagery, gender expression and embrace of gender identity as faith and worship!

#musings #original fiction

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quills-and-fandoms · 29 days ago

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Marauders Circus AU

Based off the results on my last post, you guys really want to see the Marauders Circus Fic I've been writing! This fic is 65 thousand+ words for a total of 32 chapters! It will be releasing very shortly so keep a close eye here or comment below to be notified when the first chapter goes live on AO3.

But for now, let's introduce you to the cast shall we?

Ringmaster Of The Amazing Magnificent Hogwarts Circus!

Minerva McGonagall is the respected (and a bit feared) owner and ring master of The Magnificent Hogwarts Circus! Firm, precise, and fair she keeps the circus running despite dwindling funds and societal pressure. She treats her performers like her own children, even the wild ones, and has a soft spot for strays.

The Main Attractions

James Potter, the Circus's darling!

Aerialist, trapeze artist, and the circus’s brightest star. Dazzling, cocky, and tireless. Known for breathtaking mid-air stunts and his ability to charm any crowd, or person. He's truly the light of the show.

Remus Lupin, the moonlight howl.

Knife thrower and part-time animal handler. Soft-spoken, secretive, and intensely skilled. His act is silent, precise, and tense, some say it's an echo of his painful past. He keeps everyone grounded, but never lets anyone all the way in.

Lily Evans, The Scarlet Tongue

Tightrope walker and contortionist. Elegant, focused, and ferociously intelligent. She's famous for walking the line barefoot and blindfolded. She protects the younger performers fiercely and is best known for her acts with Remus Lupin!

Marlene McKinnon, The Fire Siren

Fire dancer and reckless stunt performer. Bold, sharp-tongued, and she's always the first to jump into danger. She's best friends with Lily and Dorcas and she's quite intent to ignore the rumors that swirl around all the three.

Dorcas Meadowes, The Silver Talon

Lion tamer and acrobat. She's magnetic and fearless. She often performs in tandem with Marlene. She's commanding inside the ring, but warm outside of it.

Peter Pettigrew, the hand behind the curtain

He's the circus's props manager, assistant, and sometimes clown when needed. He's often underestimated but keeps the whole operation moving. He's fiercely loyal, with an eye for secrets and backstage drama.

Mary Macdonald, The illusion of smoke

Magician's assistant turned spotlight illusionist. Elegant, theatrical, and always with a bit of mystery. She uses smoke, mirrors, and quick hands to entrance her audiences. She's loyal to Lily, but may or may not have a complicated history with Barty.

The Sideshow & Specialty Acts

Pandora Lovegood, The Mistress of Visions

Fortune teller and aerial silks performer. Ethereal and dreamlike. She speaks in riddles and wears bells in her hair. She's beloved by the children and animals. No one knows where she came from, but everyone knows she belongs and if you don't agree? Well.. you'll regret that choice.

Barty Crouch Jr, The Blazing Escape

Fire breather and escape artist. Charming, intense, and volatile. His act is jaw-dropping, but there’s something dangerous beneath the surface. He's constantly pushing limits, and buttons. You either love him or you hate him.

Severus Snape, The Alchemist’s Son

He manages the Oddities Tent, all of the herbs, reliks, and wonders that they've collected across Europe. He keeps to himself and secretly harbors resentment and longing in equal measure. He has a complicated history with Lily and James.

The Outsiders

Sirius Black

The heir to house Black. Rich, rebellious, and bitter. He attends the circus out of boredom and stays for something else entirely. Once close to Remus, until a fall-out he is now torn between loyalty to Regulus and a growing desire to burn everything down. He's a mechanic and often helps the circus out with any issues it may have around vehicles.

Regulus Black

The youngest and the heir to House Black. Composed, curious, and quietly suffocating under family pressure. He's fascinated by the circus, especially by James, and desperate for something real. He intends to just be a passive observer, but soon finds himself tangled in the lights and ropes.

Evan Rosier

Regulus’s childhood friend from a prestigious French academy. Charming, flirtatious, and protective to a fault. He sees the circus as beneath them, as he was taught to believe so but finds it hard to look away. He's spent his whole life performing, and for once he's surrounded by people who do it for fun.

There's many more characters to be seen but where's the fun in revealing them all at once? I'm Quills, the little spokesperson for this circus you could say, your host and author. You can find me on AO3 under A_Scroll_For_Quills and the first chapter shall be released any moment now.

Until next time ladies and gentleman, let's hope The Amazing Magnificent Hogwarts Circus comes to your town soon.

#marauders #james x regulus #regulus black #james potter #sirius orion black #remus x sirius #remus lupin #wolfstar #jegulus #rosekiller #evan rosier #lily evans #barty crouch jr #marlene mckinnon #peter pettigrew #dorcas meadowes #dorcas x marlene #pandora lovegood #mary macdonald

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literaryvein-reblogs · 6 months ago

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Hello , love your content! Helps me so much with writing!! I saw your cat post yesterday and I was wondering if you had notes for horses too? If not it’s okay. You are doing gods work thank you!!!<3

Writing Notes: Horses & their Personalities

According to J. Warren Evans in the popular animal science textbook Horses: A Guide to Selection, Care and Employment, horses have 6 basic temperament types. Here’s a rundown on the temperament types and how each is best handled:

Quiet. This horse is commonly referred to as bomb-proof by owners and a packer by riding instructors for his unreactive nature. He will tolerate almost anything, from a fluttering flag to an uncoordinated rider with inexperienced hands. This type can generally be trusted to behave safely and to build the confidence of beginner riders, while a more advanced rider might consider him too dull.

Interested. These horses are great for riders with a little training and experience. In well-trained hands, these horses pay attention to the rider’s aids but aren’t upset by them. While they are aware of their environment and respond to things going on around them, it’s unusual for them to react with fight-or-flight behavior. As long as this horse is handled with consideration and sensitivity, riders will seldom go wrong with this sort. Many of the horses you see collecting ribbons at local horse shows fit into this category, as they are both animated and dependable.

Nervous. Nervous is the personality type truest to equine nature, and consequently many horses fit into this category. The flight response in nervous horses is well-developed. They spook easily, perhaps even bolting to escape from perceived dangers all around. They tend to carry their heads high, looking for trouble and ready to react. For a quiet and experienced rider, this horse can eventually make a very nice mount. For a tentative rider, he can be a wreck waiting to happen. Most can eventually develop some trust and a sense of security from confident yet sympathetic riders who allow them to progress in training. They require extreme patience and confident handling from the rider. You cannot rush the trust they require before they can progress. If you can learn to work with the challenge, these horses can be worth it and wonderful to show as they tend to possess an extra brilliance in spirit and movement.

Extremely Nervous. These horses are so reactive that virtually anything can set them off, and even changes in footing or shadows on the ground could cause fearful explosions at any time. Calm, consistent handling while slowly expanding their comfort zones will ultimately benefit them, but the road will be long and often dangerous. You must stay especially alert at all times. These horses are best left to professionals or to individuals with loads of experience and a solid foundation in equine behavior principles.

Stubborn. These horses tend to resent work and try to find a way out of it. When pushed, they often become irritable and balky, sometimes even exploding in temper. Trainers often encounter behavior that sets back training, requiring repetitions of lessons already learned. These horses also require riders with a lot of patience, but while the nervous horse requires a quiet hand, stubborn horses need a tactful yet firm approach.

Treacherous. These horses, with the notable exception of a few naturally aggressive stallions, are nearly always either a product of bad handling or benign neglect. They either haven’t learned to respect humans or have learned to actively resent them. Such horses may unexpectedly attack humans by kicking, biting or stomping on them. Horses who simply lack an understanding of their place below humans on the dominance hierarchy may sometimes be reformed by the most experienced of handlers. Sadly, euthanasia is sometimes the only safe solution for savage horses. Fortunately, such horses are rare.

Many horses seem to fluctuate daily between types. But this is what makes each ride unique and each day a lesson.

In addition to the above mentioned temperaments, the following personalities are reported to be observed in horses:

Friendly. Friendly types enjoy human companionship and frequently form strong bonds with their riders. They are the kind of horses that will nickel when they see you coming and enjoy being groomed and fussed over. They are often very willing partners and can excel in any discipline, although they may lack the competitiveness of some of the other types. These horses make excellent first mounts for beginners because they are so forgiving and willing to please. They are also frequently used in therapeutic riding programs because of their gentle nature.

Cuddler. Cuddlers are horses that love physical affection. They enjoy being close to their humans and often seek out physical contact. They frequently nuzzle, rest their heads on you, and even fall asleep while being groomed. This type of horse is often very affectionate and bonds strongly with its riders. They make excellent mounts for beginners and children because they are so patient and gentle. Cuddlers are often used in therapeutic riding programs because of their calming presence.

Go-Getter. Go-getters are horses that are always up for a challenge. They love to work and are very motivated by food, praise, and attention. These types of horses often excel in competition because they are so eager to please their riders. They can be a bit challenging to train because they can be easily bored. However, once they trust their rider, they will give their all in any situation. These horses make excellent mounts for experienced riders who are looking for a willing partner.

Laid-Back. Laid-back types are the chillaxed of the horse world. They are not particularly motivated by food, praise, or attention. They often enjoy a good scratch and will stand quietly while being groomed, but they are not usually fond of being fussed over. These horses frequently lack motivation and can be challenging to train. However, once they trust their rider, they can be very reliable partners. These horses make excellent mounts for experienced riders who are looking for a laid-back mount.

Of course, not every horse fits perfectly into one of these categories. Many horses have traits from multiple types or their own unique combination of qualities. The best way to get to know your horse's personality is to spend time with them and observe their behaviour.

Temperament - can be defined as innate properties of the nervous system, whereas personality includes the complex behavioral traits acquired through life.

Association between personality and behavior is important for breeding, selection, and training of horses. Sackman & Houpt (2018) evaluated if equine personality components previously identified in Japan and Europe were consistent when applied to American horses.

They examined the association of personality with breed, age, sex, management, training, stereotypies, and misbehaviors.

The owner directed personality survey consisted of 25 questions.

An online version of the survey was created.

The principal component analysis method was used to associate behavioral traits with personality components.

Factor analysis with orthogonal transformation was performed on scores for personality-related questions.

A total of 847 survey responses were used.

Quarter Horses, “other” breed, and Thoroughbred were the most common breeds.

Three principal personality components were extracted as each behavioral trait belonged to one of these three components.

Arabians, Thoroughbreds, Saddlebreds, and Walking horses were the most nervous and Quarter Horses, and Paints, Appaloosas, and Drafts were the least nervous.

Using the key personality components, they were able to establish and refute links between personality type such as nervousness, curiosity, and threatening and trained discipline.

They found that horses who kicked doors, bit, and had more than one stereotypy had a more threatening personality than those horses with no stereotypy.

Genetics, as demonstrated by an association between personality components and breed, play the largest role in equine personality with environmental factors, such as association and experience with humans, social contact, and housing applying a significant influence on the expression of specific behaviors/traits.

All horses are individuals with their own unique personality traits, just like people. However, there are some generalisations that can be made about different types of horses based on their breed, history, and physical characteristics.

Some popular horse types include:

American Quarter Horse: These horses are known for their athleticism and speed and are often used in rodeos and racing.

Arabian: Arabians are one of the oldest horse breeds in the world and are known for their intelligence and stamina.

Icelandic: These hardy horses are used for a variety of purposes including riding, pulling carts, and herding sheep.

When it comes to personalities, some horses are more outgoing and social while others are more independent and aloof.

Some horses are very curious and playful, while others are calmer and more serious.

There is no right or wrong when it comes to horse personalities, but it is important to match the right horse with the right owner based on their individual needs and personality traits.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

You are too lovely, thanks so much! Hope this helps with your writing <3

#anonymous #horse #animals #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #writing reference #writing notes #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing resources

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hold-him-down · 1 year ago

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Hold Him Down (pt. 1)

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

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

✥ ✥ ✥

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Otto responds, shifting his focus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wish me luck?”

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

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

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

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

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

Inside the observation room, the doctor joins Otto.

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

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

Otto nods.

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

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

✥ ✥ ✥

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

Leo nods.

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

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

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

Parker’s thumbs glide across Leo’s cheeks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✥ ✥ ✥

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can feel nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The handler takes a step forward.

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

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

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

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

And almost instantly, Leo stops.

FIGHTER TAG LIST:

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

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