#maybe in a parallel universe somewhere...

[cilant-lis]

after thinking about veilguard some more, i come to a conclusion that the plot really would have worked if there was one more game between trespasser and veilguard, with a huge time-skip

like in the hypothetical game you work to stop solas, as was the plan with project joplin, and the player works closely with what remains of the inquisition. the game would have ended with you imprisoning solas in the fade, but unbeknownst to the protagonist, he becomes blighted. end game

veilguard would then take place many years later, maybe even a century or so, to resolve the issue of most dropped plot points and lore inconsistencies from previous games. the plot would still revolve around stopping the blighted gods who escaped the prison beyond the veil as it weakened (maybe tie the venatori into it by having them weaken the veil?), but now you have a wild card that is blighted solas in the equation as well. he helps you stop elgar'nan and ghila'nain but he is still blighted, so what are his goals? the side plots and companions would remain largely the same, as would the ending. the blight is gone once and for all and thedas is finally at peace.

[spookyspeks]

Melanie Kinggg

[kxllerblond]

I shake my fist at the sky. his parents are so hot,,,,

obviously hollywood hates when women age so there's not much on the actress in her older years but trust me, Lisa Thompson was a very sweet-looking and plump woman by the time she passed.

I haven't and probably won't hc what face Enclor had when he hooked up with Lisa because it was a throwaway body probably, lol. But he's running around currently with a Javier fc being very evil and fruity with his political hell co-conspirator. I need to fuck around with him more but (here's his tag) dkjfgbdfg it's mainly just shitposts but he's got lore in there too i think

[unproduciblesmackdown]

didn't know there was a new frictional games / amnesia release....until now (that i do)

[sheeezu]

Things to expect when you've mastered shifting

This isn't the normal "oh you'll feel on top the world" kind of post which just hypes up everything and the sole purpose is to motivate. This is (???) the logistics, the indepth version of what you'll face psychologically.

I've shifted close to about a hundred times, whether it was from this reality, or shifting within a reality I shifted.

This is all from my personal experience, you might experience differently.

⋆ Disassociation: when you shift back to your original reality, you'll often times confuse both reality's memory, of course, we all know this, doesn't matter if you shifted or not. But what I've seen no one talk about is that sometimes events and certain objects from your DR will unintentionally manifest into your CR, just because of how deeply rooted they become in your subconscious. For example, I had maybe mentioned this somewhere else, but in my DR I had scripted expensive china cups, which broke on my second day being there. Well two weeks ago my family was gifted the same teacups (some details were off) and one of them managed to get a crack in them after we served the guests tea in it.

⋆ Weird Dreams: Not only is the concept of the dreams weird, but overall mechanics of it are unusual as well (I didn't shift unconsciously in my dreams, that's one boundary I've established)

For example, dreams with people claiming to know the future, telling me, and it coming true the next day, but it being minor details, people from my DRs channeling me, dreams which involves falling out of reality/finding the end of the multiverse.

Dreams which involves me floating, strong winds which blow away entirely of the void reality (CR), I had started getting this dream since I've wanted to permashift, the wind is so strong and I feel it, I'm usually at my college and or doing a mundane activity in my current reality, everything dissapears and I end up in the void state for the rest of the night.

Once my S/O visited me in my dream, he asked me to come back home, it was a lucid dream so I consciously agreed because I couldn't deny him; ended up in my home reality.

⋆ Feeling weirdly sad about your CR: this one might be personal to me. truth be told, I haven't studied a single day since I've successfully shifted. This year all of my classmates and age fellows are going to start looking at university applications, the ones they mention are usually universities I used to dream all day long about getting into, when I didn't know about shifting. It forms a pit in my heart, the passion I once used to have regarding hardwork by investing blood sweat tears into studying, pinterest board filled with quotes such as "some dreams are worth more than my sleep" not stirring anything within me. It's not that I think I can't get these things, i know i can just shift to a parallel reality and get it, but I just don't want to, I don't feel the same about this reality anymore, slowly letting it go, no matter how much I try to cling onto it, I know I was never meant to be here.

⋆ Personality changes: When you become an expert at shifting its no question that you'd shift very frequently. Those DR selfs would influence your personality, and people can think you're developing a split personality disorder.

Take me as an example, if you look at the posts on my blog, you'd notice a different tone in each one of them, some are in a more softer tone and the others feel clinical.

⋆ Putting your DR family first, even though they're not here: I don't know how to explain this one, so I'd just take an example out of my own experience again.

I was out shopping with my mother for sweaters, the ones we were coming across were really good quality, but I could only think of my S/O, she was pointing out the things she thought I'd like, but I kept looking at the men's sweater, subconsciously trying to pick one out for him, which weirded my mother out slightly.

...

Why am I crying.

Anyways I have planned to permashift out of this reality before new year, it was my childhood dream to blog, but I was too shy to do so and never had anything common with anyone. But I've finally completed the final thing on my list, alongside with meeting my cousin who I adored, I decided to add her to my DR.

That's it, I'll go on and answer the 50 asks in my inbox.

...

[trulybetty]

third time is a charm | part one

pairing: dr. jack abbot x gn!reader word count: 1,346 warnings: grumpy x sunshine, waiting on roadside assistance, competency kink is itched, this is pretty tame considering my resume estimated reading time: 6 minutes summary: it seems the universe is intent on throwing you in the path of dr. jack abbot ao3: linked

« masterlist | part two »

Third Time Is a Charm Part One.

You’d officially hit every checkbox on the ‘bad decisions in winter’ bingo card. The sun was down, the temperature was offensively cold, and you were leaning against the trunk of your car—that was just far enough out from the spot you’d originally been parked in—that you were blocking anyone from passing, forcing them into the second lane. You were thankful, at least that the side street was quiet. Only one car had been by since your engine had stalled.

Your winter coat—a fifty percent off “thermal-lined” special, you were starting to suspect was an elaborate lie and you’d been ripped off on the whole ‘winter proof’ part—was wrapped tightly around you, and you were gripping your phone like it was going to magically fix things.

It wasn’t.

You’d already called roadside assistance and been told—cheerfully in a false tone that suggested what they were saying wasn’t remotely true and they just wanted you off the phone—that someone would be with you “within the next 90 minutes… or so.”

You’d tried jumping the battery yourself. At least that’s what you think you did. You’d Googled diagrams. The car’s manual. You even watched a video narrated by a man named “Jeff the Mechanic” who kept winking at the camera, distracting you from whatever it was he was saying.

None of it had helped.

So now you were there waiting. And freezing.

Jack was supposed to be asleep by now.

That was the deal. Day shift had screwed him over with a last minute schedule change, and in exchange he was supposed to be done by five. Home by five-thirty. Asleep by six. A solid twelve hours to reset before he went back to his normal night shift rotation. That was the plan.

He was not asleep.

All he wanted was his spot. The one that was a third car length out from the fire hydrant. The only one that didn’t get buried when the snowplows rolls through at night. It’s habit now—come down Liberty, take a right on 48th, ease in, and then he’s five steps from his apartment.

Only that night, the spot is taken. There was a navy blue hatchback that was parked half-assed, like it was trying to attempt to parallel park and thought, ‘eh, good enough’. The hazards were on, and that’s when he noticed someone leaning against the back with the kind of detachment Jack associated with people who don’t realize just how in the way they are.

Jack let the truck idle behind the car for a few seconds. Then he tapped the horn once. Not aggressively. Just a hey. A nudge. Move it.

You looked up.

He could already tell from your expression that this was about to be a conversation, not a resolution. You looked up in surprise, blinking like you’d forgotten that there was a chance of another car turning up. Then you waved, and Jack breathed in a long breath as he muttered under his breath as he put the truck into park.

It was cold. Colder than it had been forecast. Sharp enough to aggravate old bones. His leg ached. The air bit his jawline and he already was regretting giving a shit about whatever was happening there.

“Hi!” you called out, voice muffled by the scarf around your neck, “Sorry, my car’s dead. Battery, at least I think it is. That’s what Google and YouTube seem to agree on.” Jack narrowed his gaze at you like he was debating getting back into his truck and finding somewhere else to park, “But someone is coming!” you quickly added, “should be maybe thirty minutes top… I think?”

“Which company?” he asked, already skeptical.

You squinted. “Huh?”

He points to your phone, “Who’d you call?”

“Oh—uh, roadside assistance,” Jack fought rolling his eyes, “it’s through my insurance. Not AAA, the other one.”

He didn’t need to ask. He knew the other one. The one that never shows up. The one that gets stuck in traffic for two hours and then calls to say they cancelled the request because the technician couldn’t find you where you said you were.

Jack sighed. Long and tired.

He muttered, mostly to himself, “Any idea what killed it?”

You shrug, “I went to go pick up my dry cleaning on my way home—I’m just a block over, they were backed up—maybe I left my lights on?”

He let out a breath that fogged the air as he looked at you with disbelief. He took in how your car was angled behind you—just enough to block the spot, not enough for anyone else to squeeze in behind. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, he needed to shave, the stubble rough on his hands.

This was not his problem. You are not his responsibility. This is not the ED.

Still, he said, “You got jumper cables?”

You looked at him wide-eyed, “Mayyybe? In my trunk somewhere, I think.”

“You want to start looking?” he said, stepping closer, boots crunching through the salt and dirty snow, “you’re parked like shit. And I’ve been up since three. I need you to get this car moving.”

You blinked at him, “So… what? You want me to push it out of the way?”

He didn’t laugh. Just stared. “Pop the hood and find those cables.”

Your brow furrowed, “Wait—are you actually going to help me?”

“No. I’m gonna jump it just enough so I can park and get on with my night.”

Despite the irritation in his voice, you gave him a smile, not offended in the slightest, and turned to dig through your trunk.

After angling his truck in the right position, he popped his hood as you fumbled with your own. The cold was already numbing his fingers through the gloves he didn’t think he’d need today, but he was too tired and too far in on this to complain about it. He looked over your shoulder at your battery and cursed under his breath. It looked like it’d never been touched, corrosion blooming around the terminals.

Despite his better judgement, he connected the clamps and stepped back. “Try it.”

He hoped to god that it was going to work.

You climbed behind the wheel and turned the key. The engine sputtered once. Then again. Then—by some infinite miracle—catches. It sounded awful. A sick, rattling idle like the car was smoking a pack a day.

Jack didn’t look impressed and wondered if it sounded this bad before then.

You leant out of the window you’d rolled down, “It lives!”

“Barely,” he said from behind your hood. He unhooked the cables and shut the hood with more force than necessary. “Get it checked out. Seriously.”

You were out of the car and taking the cables from his hands. “Thank you.”

He was already turning back toward his truck when you add, “Really, I know you didn’t have to stop.”

“I’m aware.”

“I mean, most people wouldn’t.”

“I wanted to park.”

You smile like that explanation was funnier than it was. “Right. So technically, this was a selfish act of charity?”

Jack looked to the late-night sky and exhaled. Long. “You always talk this much, or are you waiting for your car to die out again?”

You shrug with a grin as you rounded to the driver’s door of your car once again, “Only when the audience is this thoroughly engaging.”

That earnt you the barest flicker of something on his face—possibly amusement, maybe exhaustion seeping through.

“Well. Thanks again,” you said before climbing back into your car.

He was back in his truck with the heat turned on up full blast as he watched your hazards switch off and you angled out of the street and disappeared in the direction he’d just come from. He maneuvered into the now vacant spot that should have been his over half an hour ago.

Before he switched off the ignition, he looked at the clock on his dashboard.

6:17

He was supposed to be asleep.

[juneacademia]

reconciling the knowledge we won’t be lovers in this life with the belief that maybe somewhere, in some parallel universe, there is a version of you and a version of me that find themselves on the same train, heading to nowhere important, and it gets to be the beginning of something.

[captain-hawks]

osamu miya x f!reader

“my mom asked me to return thi—” you cut yourself off abruptly as you’re met with the sudden, unexpected surprise of a familiar pair of gray eyes when the front door of the miya residence swings open. 

gray eyes that certainly don’t belong to the woman you intended to return the pie pan currently clutched in your hands to.

“osamu?” your voice comes out small, uncertain, a little fragile around the edges.

the corner of his mouth curves upward in a smile as he leans against the doorframe. “long time no see.”

–

the porch swing out back is as welcoming as it ever was, though the real estate to be found across its faded yellow cushions has waned as the two of you have grown. it was enormous to two seven-year-olds who spent long summer evenings on their backs across it, shoulder to shoulder with their little feet kicked up along the arm rests in opposite directions as they gazed up into the sky beyond the porch watching the fireflies come to life.

you can only imagine how ridiculous the two of you look now, heads parallel instead for lack of space and your legs thrown entirely over either edge at the knee, the swing shuddering with a precarious creak with each of your frequent outbursts of laughter.

for all that’s changed in the years since you graduated from inarizaki high and packed your bags—the new general store in town, your dad’s fancy electric car, the bright color of the shutters that adorn the front of the miya household, the dark shade of osamu’s hair, his muscles that have since generously filled out—

for all that’s changed, this still feels wholly the same: this easy rhythm the two of you slip into, the way it feels as natural as breathing to tell osamu everything—all the good and the bad and the wonderful and the terribly shitty things in your life that have happened between now and then.

(then, when you were eighteen standing outside of your mom’s old sedan on a sticky july morning, the trunk packed full with everything you held dear. everything but the gray-haired boy standing in front of you hugging you tightly goodbye.)

(then, when quietly realizing that you were in love with your best friend was the most terrifying feeling in the world.)

(now, with four years of university, two wasted years at a soulless corporate job, and the aftermath of a terrible relationship kicking up dust in the rearview.)

(now, when you know that for all the miles and the minutes, all this endless space that you’ve created—your heart will always be the steady pulse of a firefly cupped in osamu’s hands.)

–

it’s late beneath the glow of moonlight that pours across the porch when you finally ask, “how’s your girlfriend?”

osamu laughs, and you feel warm despite the cool night air that’s begun to nip at your bare legs. “don’t have one. tsumu’s probably got enough of ‘em for the both of us.”

it’s embarrassing, the thread of hope that slips between the careful grip of your fingers and begins to unspool in the defenseless gaps of your ribcage. “you mean to tell me there’s no mistress of onigiri miya? i find that hard to believe.”

he snorts this time, and a frog croaks somewhere off in the distance. “be nice, maybe i’ve got a broken heart over here.”

you shouldn’t be jealous, and yet—

“someone let you go? what was she thinking?”

osamu sighs, wistful. “never had her.”

your heart thumps as you turn your head, expecting to be met with osamu’s upside down side profile but instead finding yourself nose to nose with him.

“why not?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“didn’t think that was what she wanted.”

the sound of osamu’s breathing and the trembling in your chest drowns out the steady hum of the katydids that echoes across the backyard.

“and what if you were wrong?”

you’re met with a sharp, careful intake of breath that mirrors the tightness in your throat.

“s’a shame i’m not a time traveler then, i guess.”

this time, it’s your turn to laugh. “i hear she’s back in town.”

“yeah?” he says, a little breathless, a lot hopeful. 

“there’s still nobody else i’d rather count fireflies with, osamu,” you whisper.

and as osamu tilts your chin with a gentle hand to tentatively brush his mouth against yours—

as you find yourself on top of him, fingers tangled in his hair as he cups the back of your head and kisses you until you can hardly breathe—

as you begin to forget where you end and he begins—

(you’ve both changed and you’ve grown, but faint yellow lights still wink in and out of existence in the sky above, the southern breeze still carries the faint chill of the lake beyond the woods, and osamu still feels more like home than anything ever has.)

—the porch swing sways, and you can feel osamu's smile in every kiss—

you fit perfectly here atop these old cushions now, in a tangle of limbs and lips and patient hearts.

[kalinara]

The thing about Scott and Nathan that will always be funny to me is that ultimately the whole "losing your child at a young age and not meeting them again until they're adults" is not a terribly rare beat in comics.

It's, in fact, incredibly common. Logan's got that beat with Akihiro. Raven's got it with Kurt. Xavier with David...maybe, to be honest, I've never been sure when Xavier first became aware of David's existence. I'll have to track down those comics.

Hell, Magneto managed to RAISE his kids and only learn they're actually his kids after they reach adulthood. Whereupon they became not his kids. Sort of. But then he got another adult kid. Whatever.

The thing that's funny about Scott though is that he goes through that plot beat, has the requisite angst about not being able to raise his kid and missing out on most of his childhood, and then promptly decides "okay, well, I'm going to keep raising this fifty year old man anyway."

It's subtly different from the other examples, I think. Akihiro was willing to acknowledge Logan as his father, but they were enemies for a long time. And while there is some cautious acceptance now, they're still not really a traditional father-and-son. Kurt acknowledges Raven and even tries to support her at times, but Raven's not the most maternal at the best of times. The less said about Xavier's fuck ups the better.

The hilarious thing about Scott and Nathan is that they actually do act like father and son. And eventually, that starts to make sense. Scott and Jean did, after all, raise Nathan for the first ten years of his life, albeit under pseudonyms and in borrowed bodies. And then, much later, they got to raise him for maybe a year more on Krakoa?

But those are things that get established later on. And Nathan's spent like thirty-to-forty years after that basically on his own. But for whatever reason, he sees this perpetually twenty-something dude insist on acting like his dad, and inviting him to family dinner and giving him Christmas presents and shit like that, and just kind of goes "yeah, okay. You're my dad now."

And it even extends to Rachel and Nate Grey. Because really, Rachel isn't their daughter. She's the daughter of a long dead alternate future version of Scott and Jean. She's under no obligation to go along with Scott's awkward attempts at fatherhood. And he really has no business trying to be a dad to someone who at various times is either his own age (circa X-Factor) or only a few years younger (current interpretation.) But nope, Rachel's their daughter. And she goes along with it, even when she's mad at him during the Emma years.

Nate Grey is even more bizarre, since he's Sinister's test tube baby from a parallel universe where Scott and Jean didn't even meet until adulthood. (Though it did seem like they might be getting somewhere toward the end.) But he's invited to family dinner too. And while he's not specifically named, I think it's important to note that there are THREE rooms in the kids' section of the Summer House. Not two.

Room number 17 is listed as "empty". But Scott's an organized sort of guy, if he built three rooms in the kids' section, then he meant three rooms.

(Also notice that there's an empty room in the brothers' section too. Maybe if Adam-X wasn't busy in the Mojo-verse, he'd have had a place to stay too?)

It's just funny to me. Other characters meet their kids as adults and are like "okay, well, we've missed so much time and opportunity, we'll have to cautiously find our way forward as adults". Scott Summers is like "Okay, well, you're my kids, so dinner's at six, bedtime's at eleven, and we'll talk about your homework later."

[h0neylevi]

Chapter Two

After a major shift, your life has become a series of monotonous routines. Eat, sleep, go to work, repeat. But when you find a man bleeding on the subway with no idea how he got there, things become anything but ordinary.

General content warnings: isekai/parallel universe, modern AU, mentions of blood and canon-typical violence, some light angst, eventual smut.

chapter warnings: brief discussion of human trafficking

word count: 3.2k

“Where did you find him again?”

“On my way home last night on the subway.”

“... And he was–”

“In the full scout uniform, yeah.”

Your friend and fellow nurse, Allie, pauses in the wake of your words, eyes fixed on the door at the other end of the hall where one of the hospital’s doctors took Levi to be examined.

They’ve been back there for over an hour now, and you’re starting to get nervous. If this goes badly, you’re never going to live it down with your coworkers.

“Is he hot?”

Your jaw hangs when Allie’s words register, and you turn back to her with an incredulous look.

“I told you all that and that’s what you take from it?”

She raises her hands up in a defensive gesture. “I’m just saying, if the universe decided to drop a man into my lap that thought he was Erwin Smith, I would take advantage of the situation.”

That, oddly enough, makes you laugh.

“He isn’t Levi Ackerman,” you say once you’ve calmed down. “He probably just hit his head on the way from a costume party and got confused.”

On the other side of the nurse’s station, Allie groans and gets up. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I’m being realistic,” you defend.

“We see weirder things walk into this hospital every day.”

“I think an anime character come to life would surpass anything we’ve ever seen.”

With a defeated little sigh, she grabs a file and rounds the corner. “Well, whatever he is, I have to get back to work.” She taps the file on your shoulder as she passes. “Have fun with Beyblade. Let me know what Paul says.”

Just as she starts down the corridor, the door at the end of the hall opens and Dr. Paul Holloway exits the exam room. His expression is solemn as he gestures for you to join him.

“Thank you again for doing this on such short notice, Dr. Holloway,” you greet him. “Did you find out anything?”

He looks down for a moment at the clipboard in his hand. “Well, the only thing really to note is that he doesn’t seem to know what year it is or where he is, but all of his tests and scans came back normal. Cognition and reflexes otherwise seem to be just fine.”

He rifles through the pages for a moment before continuing. “There are no drugs in his system, and no significant injuries that I could find that would cause this sort of temporary amnesia, so I would have to refer him out to a specialist if you wanted more answers. But as of now, my only guess could be that maybe he was trafficked and escaped. Possibly in a fugue state for so long that he has no recollection of how he got here.”

You listen intently. That wouldn’t explain the clothes you found him in, but it’s worth considering all the same. Large cities were usually hubs for human trafficking. It’s more likely than Allie’s theory at least.

Dr. Holloway seems to sense your thought process. “He should recover his memories soon, but I would suggest maybe filing a police report. I’m sure he has a family out there somewhere who’s missing him.”

You consider it. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “I’ll mention it. Thanks again, Dr. Holloway.”

“Of course.”

You wait quietly as he opens the exam room door again and beckons Levi out.

He’s just as passive as ever when he sees you waiting. With a departing nod, Dr. Holloway continues down the hall to another exam room.

“So,” you begin, “how are you feeling?”

“Like a test subject,” Levi grumbles, falling into step with you. “Four-Eyes would love this place.”

You turn to look at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he quickly says. “So, are you satisfied now? I can go?”

You walk through the nearby exit door on the side of the building and onto the street.

“Well, Dr. Holloway didn’t find anything wrong, so I guess you’re welcome to go wherever you like,” you say. “But I really think you should go to the police. I think something really bad has happened to you, Levi. They might be able to help you.”

While you speak, Levi looks around, studying the cars as they pass and the tall buildings.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he sighs. “I think I’m too far from home to go back.”

The recognition that bleeds through his tone makes you curious. “Do you remember where you’re from?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His mouth twists into a frown. “It’s definitely not around here.”

You want to keep pressing but ultimately decide against it. It isn’t as if it’s any of your business, but you feel a sense of responsibility for his well-being. You were the one who found him, and if you have the means to help him get to where he needs to go, you’d be willing to offer. It isn’t as if you’ve got anything else going on in your life, but you can only do so much when he doesn’t want you to pry into his personal life.

“Well...” you trail off, unsure. “I need to get some groceries but once we get back to my place, I can wash your clothes before you leave. That’ll give you some time to decide what you want to do.”

To your surprise, it doesn’t take him long to agree.

“Okay,” he nods. “Let’s go.”

**

The supermarket isn’t far from your apartment, so you get onto the city metro together. It’s a familiar route to you, but it’s clear that Levi isn’t accustomed to the amount of people that cram themselves together into the narrow space at once.

There aren’t any seats when you climb on, so you’re forced to stand together in one of the corner exits. At the very least, Levi remembers to grab onto one of the handrails just before the train starts moving—an action that he still seems to find disgusting despite the necessity.

“What?” you laugh at his pinched expression.

“I think I preferred it the way it was last night,” he remarks, not doing anything to hide his distaste while looking around. “How often do these things get cleaned?”

You blink. “Uh, I don’t know. Probably only when something seriously hazardous happens. Like blood or puke.”

The look on his face only grows.

“Don’t worry. I have sanitizer in my bag. I can give you some when we get off,” you promise. “I never got rid of the habit from covid.”

The way Levi’s brows furrow suggest that he doesn’t know what either of those things are either, but you just shake your head, wordlessly promising to explain later.

Once you’re off the train and back out onto the street, you move to the side to pull the aforementioned bottle out of your bag. Levi watches quietly until you reach and squeeze some of the liquid into his upturned palm.

He lifts it closer to his face. “What is this?”

“It’s sanitizer,” you say, rubbing your hands together. “Just rub it in like this. It kills the germs on your hands that you can get from touching random surfaces.”

He follows your example, albeit a bit more slowly, and you set off again down the street.

The rest of the walk is done mostly in silence. Thankfully, Levi doesn’t seem to mind. He chooses mostly to walk along beside you, occasionally looking up at skyscrapers as you pass them or balk at the occasional interaction on the street. There’s a sense of wonder and curiosity that settles on his face, smoothing out the stern glare that you’ve seen him wear since you first found him on the metro.

It really is like he’s never seen anything like it before, and you wonder again about his history. He doesn’t seem afraid of anything, merely curious as he walks, and he carries himself confidently. Like a soldier…

No, that was Allie influencing your thoughts. There’s no way this man was the Levi Ackerman. Even if he had his hair, his stature, the same sullen expression, and similar mannerisms to ones you’ve seen in the anime. It’s an impossible thought. You’re not even considering it.

“What are you staring at?”

You blink and realize that he’s looking at you now and holy shit, his eyes are even that shade of blue-grey.

You turn forward again just as a crosswalk changes for you to go. “Nothing,” you say quickly. “You just… remind me of someone.”

He doesn’t reply—most likely because he doesn’t care—but you’re grateful that he doesn’t pay it any mind.

But by the time you’ve entered the supermarket and grabbed a cart, your curiosity outweighs your hesitation.

“Can I ask you something?”

Beside you, Levi scans the produce aisle you’re approaching with passive interest. “That depends.”

Ignoring him, you press forward. “Is there some reason you won’t tell me what’s going on?”

You speak and he turns to look at you, his brows furrowed.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious that there’s more to what happened than you’re letting on,” you continue. “And I know it’s none of my business, but…”

“You’re right. It is none of your business.”

The comment stings more than you expect, but you try to quickly brush it off. You don’t know this man, and in a matter of an hour or so he’ll be gone. You’d promised yourself that as long as he was healthy, you wouldn’t meddle.

But after everything you’ve done for him, it still feels unfair to treat you so dismissively. He acts like you’re a nuisance more than the person who cleaned him up and gave him a place to sleep out of the cold.

The ensuing silence is tense. You push your cart forward, suddenly eager to get out as quickly as possible. The faster you get home, the quicker he leaves. If that’s what he wants after everything you’ve done, he can have it.

You’re moving through the selection of deli cheeses when Levi speaks up again.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he says in a low voice. “I wouldn’t believe it myself if I wasn’t witnessing it with my own eyes.”

You look around, following his gaze as it skims over the refrigerated walls of pre-packaged meat and cheese.

“What are you talking about? It’s a grocery store.”

He huffs. “That doctor said the year was 2024.”

You change course, leading the way into an aisle of canned goods. “Yeah?”

It’s quiet for a long moment. Levi’s arms are crossed over his chest as he follows along.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I’m not from here.” He pauses for a moment as you pull some cans from a shelf and place them in your cart. “I’m not from this time.”

You stop for a moment and look at him. On his face is the same look he had the night before, that same sincerity when he told you he’d been looking for some sort of headquarters.

You can’t help it. You chuckle. “You’re talking about time travel.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

You continue down the aisle and turn into the next one. “Levi, there’s never been a recorded instance of time travel…ever. It’s never happened.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “See? You don’t believe me.”

“It isn’t about believing you. It’s impossible.”

But even as you say it, you don’t feel entirely convinced that it’s true.

Improbable, sure. Very unlikely. Insane that you’re even considering it, but the more you think about it, the more the pieces seem to fall into place.

The way you found him, his clothes, the way he looks around at everything like he’s seeing it all for the first time. There’s no indication that he has a serious head injury, so you can’t fall back on that anymore. And the trafficking? Well… You’ve been trained to look for red flags, and nothing about his situation seems to fit with that explanation.

Plus, there are the coins you found in the pockets of his clothes this morning. Copper and silver ones bearing symbols you don’t recognize. The silhouette of a woman in a crown.

You’d looked up every conceivable country that you could think of that might fit the bill and nothing had matched.

There’s no way that what he’s saying is true though, right? If you believe him, you’d have to believe all of it—meaning that he is Levi Ackerman and that the events of Attack on Titan are real.

No, that’s silly. In all of recorded history, there’s never been a single event that coincides with the existence of man-eating titans. Belief in giants is a fringe theory not backed by actual evidence.

But, still. Just to humor him.

“What time are you from then?” you ask.

“854.”

You stop and stare at him. “You realize that’s…over a thousand years ago, right?”

With his mouth in a thin line, Levi nods.

You continue to stare, waiting for a break in his composure. The inevitable laugh that will surely come, marking this entire conversation as a joke, but it never comes.

“You’re serious,” you finally say.

Levi blinks. “You believe me?”

God, what do you believe? “I…” You bring your hands to your face. The middle of the pasta aisle is not the place to be weighing the possibility of time travel. “No,” you finally say. “I mean, I don’t know…can you prove it?”

Levi raises a brow. “How am I supposed to prove it to you?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one claiming to be over a thousand years old.”

“I’m not claiming to be—” he cuts himself off with an irritated sigh. “You’re just as bad as the brats back home.”

Something in your patience finally snaps.

You start walking again, needing space. “You know, you could stand to be a bit nicer to me considering all I’ve done for you.”

For a long moment, there’s only the rattling sound of the cart’s wheels as they roll down the aisle.

“I am grateful,” Levi finally says, surprisingly still following next to you. “But I didn’t ask you to interfere.”

“Well, most people wouldn’t have just left a man to bleed all over the metro. I’m sorry I have basic human decency.”

“Basic human decency would have been pointing me in the direction of the nearest sink,” he points out. “You let me sleep on your couch.”

You turn to glare at him. “I’m sorry, are you complaining right now?”

“I’m saying that I don’t like owing people,” he says.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. I would have done the same thing for anyone.”

Levi doesn’t look like he completely believes you, but at least he lets the matter rest. 

He follows you the rest of the way through the store in thoughtful silence.

Left to your own devices, you grab things without thinking, relying on muscle memory to lead you to the items you usually buy. It isn’t as if you deviate much from your favorite meals, so the rest of the process is quick.

By the time you’ve grabbed everything you need, your mood has improved enough that you feel a bit remorseful for doubting him.

Even if it was a weird idea, Levi appeared genuine. Like Dr. Holloway had said, he’d probably regain his memories soon. If he really didn’t remember anything about modern life, he was going to need someone to help him.

Maybe he shouldn’t leave so soon.

It isn’t until you turn around to speak that you realize you’re alone. A quick look around the aisle confirms that Levi’s nowhere to be seen. That’s odd. When had he wandered off?

You begin searching back through the aisles and after a few minutes, you spot him. Standing in front of the long, neat shelves lined with tea and coffee. Something akin to dread settles into your stomach at the sight.

He glances over as you approach and places a box back on the shelf. A beat passes before he clears his throat and says, “I’ve never seen so much tea in one place before.”

“Do you want some?” you ask, glancing at the box he put back—a black tea blend. He doesn’t respond, simply skimming over the labels again with a peculiar glint in his eye.

You don’t wait for an answer and pluck the box off of the shelf. He doesn’t stop you as you place it into your cart.

It’s a truce. An apology and an acknowledgment that you’re helping him all in one.

You turn your cart back around and lead the way toward the front. “I’m all done. Let’s go.”

**

The walk back home isn’t as tense as before, but it isn’t exactly comfortable either.

You keep watching Levi every chance you get. He appears more thoughtful. His gaze lingers just as it always has on the buildings and the people walking past. Cars, billboards, restaurants, all of it.

It’s got to be overwhelming. Not that you're believing him, but if he believes that he isn’t from this time, it has to be a shock to see so many unfamiliar things at once.

“What are you thinking about?” you finally ask.

His expression remains passive as he takes a deep breath, like he’s grounding himself. “Everything just looks so…”

“Artificial?” you supply when he pauses, but the look on his face tells you he’s confused by the word you use. You try again. “Uh, not natural?”

“I was going to say clean.” His voice goes soft as he looks around again. “The air is clean.”

Not sure how to respond, you turn forward and continue down the street.

It doesn’t take much longer to reach your apartment.

Levi helps carry the bags of groceries upstairs and into your kitchen, where he stands awkwardly as you unload everything into their respective spots. Luna, still curious, climbs onto the table nearby, making Levi scowl.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t shoo her away when he decides to take a seat, and he even goes so far as to let her sniff him as he looks out of the window.

You smile when you hear her chirp. A noise that you know she makes when she feels like she’s being ignored.

“You can pet her, you know?” you look over your shoulder to tell him.

He meets you with a bored look. “I know. I don’t want to.”

As if she can understand him, Luna meows again.

After you put the last item away in your fridge, you move to sit at the table across from him.

“So what are you going to do?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he replies, and for the first time, he sounds truly at a loss.

“Well, you’re welcome to keep staying here for a bit longer,” you say, petting Luna when she slinks over to you. “Until we figure something out.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “We,” he repeats.

You meet his gaze evenly. “Look, I don’t know where you came from or how you got here, but you’re here now and you’re still a human being. As long as you’re open to letting me help, I will.”

He seems to think on it for a moment before agreeing. “There are worse things in the world, I suppose.”

And you think that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll get.

[seattlesellie]

don’t cross the line

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: smut (mdni), cheating, angst, mutual masturbation, just morally wrong, mentions of alcohol

Parties in Jackson fucking suck.

It’s not like youve ever been at a different party, but still. You’ve read about them in the little magazines from the old days you found on patrols. Small blurbs about meaningless celebrities, a concept you barely even understood, drinking themselves to oblivion. Paparazzi pictures of young starlets in black limousines, rappers getting coked up in dark bathrooms. You never really got it. Parties in Jackson were like a parallel universe.

“They must have made that up” you told Dina, your best friend and trusty patrol partner. “Nope” she shrugged. “Heard that Paris Hilton girl was really like that.”

Paris hilton would have hated Jackson parties. A bunch of old people, and a handful of young ones, dancing around to the beat of an old country song, if you could even call that a beat.

You could have responded with a simple “No thanks” when Jesse had invited you to tonights party. You could have told him you were tired, busy, sick, he would have left you alone - But you didn’t, alas, this is how you found yourself here. Alone, in an old barn, listening to the batshit insane, drunk ramblings of an old fart named Seth.

“Ripped that fella’s throat with just one move” Seth mumbled, laughing stupidly at his own words.

“Go — got him real good n’dirty, I tell ya”

Whoever said “respect the elderly” clearly never met Seth. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes that he traded for food and supplies, and my god, he was standing so close you could see the veins in his yellow tinted eyeballs. You really were too polite for your own good, you thought to yourself, because Ellie would have shoved him away already.

Ellie.

You felt like slapping yourself in the face. What the hell does she have to do with this? Why can’t you just let it fucking go already? It truly was desperate, and pathetic, and borderline immoral, the amount you spent thinking about that girl.

So what if she used to be your best friend. So what if she was the first girl who ever made you feel something, even if it was too late. She has a girlfriend, and she’s not thinking about you, she doesn’t care, maybe never has, probably never will. She left you for her, with that useless excuse of “Cat doesn’t like it when we hang out” followed by a pathetic “We can do it in secret, though.”, when she saw your eyes turn glossy and your breath hitch up. Fuck her, and fuck those memories. Fuck all the nights you spent together telling each other your deepest and darkest desires, and especially fuck that time you almost-

“Hey”

You'd recognize that voice anywhere.

A royal blue flannel button up shirt appeared at the corner of your eye.

“Mind if I steal her for a sec, Seth?”

She sounded raspy, laced with that velvety layer her voice had adorned whenever she had a sip or more of Whiskey. When you drank together for the first time, at the ripe age of sixteen, next to a big bonfire and the ever so familiar scent of pine lacing your sense of smell, you told her that she sounds different when she’s drunk. More mature, somehow. Less fidgety, slower, sultrier. She replayed that sentence over and over again in her head. “Sultry”, she whispered to herself. “I sound sultry.”

Seth cleared his throat, a deep cough escaping his lungs.

“Of course, pretty girl like her shouldn’t be around me for too long, might start acting all wild!” The old man threw his hands in the air, and disappeared somewhere in the scarce crowd.

Your heartbeat was faster than normal, but that’s not new. Not when she was around, anyways.

Ellie stood by your side, hands crossed over her chest. She had a glass of Rum in her hand, not Whiskey. Funny.

“You’re a Rum type of girl now?” you questioned, never meeting her gaze. If you bothered to look to your side, you would have noticed she was staring.

“Fame’s changed me, I guess” She responded, mixing the fluid in her glass.

One week ago, Ellie went on patrol. One week ago, Ellie killed more infected in one go than anyone else had in years. She was the town’s hero, the infected slayer. Cat even made her a badge. She wasn’t wearing it now.

“Cat or fame?” you quietly mumbled under your breath.

You weren’t spectacularly brave with your words, but one glass of presumably expired white wine made a simple girl go very far.

“Hah. Funny” she scoffed dryly, earning her Rum another pointless swirl.

“You’re the towns hero, I’m the towns comedian, we’re both pretty famous, i’d say.”

Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the wall. She squinted her eyebrows slightly, humming in response. You looked over at her, for just a second, noticing the dim light reflecting in her eyes. She was a sight to behold, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You wish she knew that. You wish you could be the one to tell her.

You inhaled deeply, and it came out so shaky that when you exhaled you were terrified she heard the tremor in your body.

“Thank’s for the save, by the way” you said quietly, apologetic. You even smiled politely, which was absolutely for nothing, because she wasn’t looking at you, avoiding your gaze like the plague.

It’s not like Ellie and you didn’t talk since that night she told you she couldn’t see you anymore. It’s been two whole years. You had to talk, you had to communicate somehow, even if it was through polite smiles and dry conversations during shared patrols. Hell, you even went to Cat’s birthday party you somehow were invited to. Dina was practically on her knees begging you to come with her, and who could say no to Dina when she looked at them with those puppy eyes that could tug at a monsters heartstrings?

“Yeah, no problem. That man’s a fucking dickhead” Ellie scoffed, leaned against the bar and crossed her legs.

“Where’s Cat?” you questioned. Are you sure you only had one glass of wine?

“She’s not here” Ellie responded dryly, seemingly annoyed at your question. She almost tsk’d when you asked. She didn’t look surprised by your rude antics, maybe you got like this more often than you thought. How about that time you told her you’re surprised Cat didn’t pack her a sandwich with a sticker on it’s wrapper during patrol?

“I can tell… why?” you inquired. Your own voice was deeper too, it almost matched hers.

“Didn’t wanna come” Ellie said, stuffing a hand inside her pocket. She was uncomfortable, clearly, and wanted, needed, to make you shut up. It’s not because your presence annoyed her, It’s because she knew she was wrong. She knew she fucked up when she ditched you, and if only you knew how it was eating her alive every day. She had to do it, because in her eyes, she would have done something much worse if she hadn’t.

Being around you when she wasn’t with Cat was hard enough, because she knew she could never have you, that you’d never want her. Not if you knew. You were too smart, and too good, to ever want to be with her. Cat was easy, she didn’t ask too many questions. She’d lay there for Ellie when Ellie told her to, and she would agree to stop a conversation when it got too personal. When Ellie cried at night, and woke up sweating, she didn’t ask why. She let it go, and Ellie knew you never would have. You’d fucking hate her if you knew. She could have saved the world — and she didn’t. He didn’t let her. The wounds she had were too deep, they were clawing and tugging at her skin from the inside. Ellie was a tortured soul, and you didn’t deserve that. That’s why she left, and maybe, that’s why she was here right now.

“That’s too bad” you mumbled quietly. You did your best to make it sound genuine, and you failed miserably.

Ellie scoffed.

“Yeah”

You shifted slightly, and walked over to stand right in front of her. You met her eyes for the first time. Those stupid, beautiful emerald eyes.

Ellie looked down, and looked up at you. She swallowed deeply.

“Anyways” you sighed. “Think I’m gonna go”

“Already?” she questioned, slamming her Rum filled glass on the bar counter.

“Yeah, I’m cold and it sucks in here, so” you said, and smiled politely. It really was freezing, and talking to her like this was painful enough.

“Let me walk you” she blurted.

What?

“Huh?” walk you where? the door? you knew where it was.

She tugged at the loose string on the bottom of her button up. It was ironed, where did Ellie find and iron? Did Maria do it for her? Town hero perks?

“Let me walk you home” she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of insistence. Once again, you found yourself captivated by her burning gaze, those eyes that seemed to hold secrets yet to be unveiled.

“I can walk home alone, Ellie” You huffed, ever the stubborn.

“No” she exclaimed.

“Maria said it’s been pretty dangerous”

“I can have my own back, you know, I’m not an idiot” You scoffed. You knew she didn’t think you were an idiot, why did she have to walk you home?

“I know that — Just wanna make sure you’re safe”

“Gosh, Ellie thank you! thank you!” You said in the most high pitched voice you could fathom. “The town’s hero is at it again, everybody!” You exclaimed, slightly raising your voice, earning both of you a few curious looks from the townspeople.

Ellie wasn’t embarrassed. She was just annoyed. And she wanted to slap you in the face for being so stubborn.

She grasped your arm with an unexpected forcefulness, pulling you along as she swiftly guided you outside. In the process, you accidentally bumped into a few people, hastily muttering a string of apologetic "sorry" and "excuse me" as you hurriedly tried to navigate through the crowd. You attempted to resist her firm grip, trying to free yourself with a burst of strength, but you found yourself overpowered by her determination.

Once she managed to pull you outside, she finally released her grip on your arm, allowing you a brief respite from her firm hold.

“You are not walking me anywhere, Williams” you scoffed. What made her think you needed her help?

“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn” she turned to face you. Her hands were on her hips. Her face wore the same expression she did when you went on your first patrol together, when you insisted on going left, even though she knew you had to go right.

“I’m walking now” you stepped away, and started walking. “And if you followed me — you wouldn’t be walking me home, you’d be stalking me” you exclaimed as you backed away.

Ellie quickly followed your pace, her boots stomping on the snow covered ground.

“You are”

Step

“So fucking annoying”

This was the longest conversation you’ve had with Ellie in two whole years. It felt like nothing’s changed, except for everything.

The following ten minutes were torturous. You were walking fast, Ellie right behind you. No words were exchanged between you, the silence enveloping the crisp air as you both walked in silence. Your attention turned inward, focusing on the sensation of the cold air filling your lungs with each breath, and the soft sound of Ellie's boots pressing against the creaking snow beneath her.

You finally arrived at your place. It’s grey exterior blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. Every inch of its structure was adorned with a delicate coat of white.

You turned around to face her.

Ellie’s skin appeared slightly flushed, with a rosy tinge highlighting her cheeks, and her nose bore a noticeable reddish hue, hinting at the crisp winter air. She didn’t say a word.

You took a deep breath. She looked cold.

“Want me to make you some tea?” you questioned. You didn’t mean to let her in, and she didn’t expect you to ask. She looked surprised, her eyebrows turned slightly upwards.

“M’fine” Ellie insisted, her voice resolute despite the chill in the air. She sought warmth by tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her dark green coat.

“Jesus, Ellie — Just come inside” you urged, the concern evident in your voice.

“If walking you was stalking wouldn’t coming in be breaking and entering?” she inquired, a sarcastic tone lacing her words.

“Just —“ you uttered, your voice trailing off as you reached for the doorknob, slowly opening the door.

“Come inside”

"Fine," Ellie relented, her resolve wavering as she decided to follow in your footsteps.

The house welcomed you with its cozy warmth, though slightly disorganized in its appearance. Yet, amidst the subtle chaos, it remained a comforting sanctuary, always your safe space. Being there brought a sense of solace, as if the troubles of the outside world faded away. And with Ellie's presence by your side, an inexplicable tingling sensation spread through your being.

You proceeded to heat up some water, carefully attending to the task of preparing tea, a familiar ritual.

Ellie never knew where to sit, or where to stand, so there she was, examining every single one of your movements. The air felt thick, like you could cut the tension with a switchblade.

"Your house looks different," she murmured in a low voice, leaning against the cream-colored wall.

“Bad different?” You questioned, taking out two mugs from the cupboard.

“No, just… more stuff” she murmured.

"Well," you uttered as you gently placed the teabag into the awaiting mug. “You haven’t been here in a while, so”

Ellie hummed in response, and bit her lower lip.

“You’ve kind of changed too.” you murmured.

“Tattoos looking bigger. And you look more tired. Plus, your shirt looks ironed, so maybe you even… showered? Woah.” you teased.

“Fuck, you really are funny huh?” she said, crossing her arms.

“Always were a sucker for my jokes” you responded with a sly smile.

She didn’t mean to say what she said next, because that was like opening a pandora’s box. Or, more like, the gates to hell.

“This is the longest conversation we’ve had in years” Ellie murmured. You handed her the green colored mug, your finger brushing her’s for a second. You both flinched.

“Mhm” you took a sip from your tea. It was still so hot, it burned your tongue.

“And who’s fault is that?” You questioned, raising your eyes to meet her burning gaze. It was incredibly impulsive.

Ellie rolled her eyes. She looked baffled.

“You still don’t get it, do you? She questioned.

“Get what? that your girlfriend doesn’t like me? trust me Ellie, I get that, crystal clear.” You smiled, as you slammed your mug on the counter.

“I’m not doing this right now” she declared, her tone firm and resolute.

Oh, did that sentence burn through you.

“I think you are” you stepped forward to face her. She looked terrified, like a lost puppy. Not so “town’s hero” now. Thank god she wasn’t wearing Cat’s badge, because she would have looked ridiculous.

“I’m not” she said quietly, looking at the floor beneath her.

You felt the ever so familiar lump forming in your throat. She owed you.

“Tell me what it is exactly that I don’t get” you spat. The pent up anger from all these years finally just fucking bursted. She left you. She left you for her, your best fucking friend.

“It’s just funny how she didn’t give a shit about Jesse, or Dina, or anybody! Just fucking me, right? I’m the fucking problem?” you blurted. Your voice was shaky, filled with rage. The tears in your eyes started forming. You didn’t even know how much you were holding it inside of you, it all overflowed, at 2AM, right in your kitchen. Right where she told you she couldn’t see you anymore.

Ellie was frozen, her mouth parted slightly. She was flushed, and it showed. It wasn’t the cold weather anymore, it was you. She didn’t expect this to happen so fast. She came inside for some fucking tea.

That’s when you shoved her. And she didn’t even fucking move.

“Don’t fucking do this to me” she begged. Her voice was desperate, and shaky, and what the fuck was she hiding?

You found yourselves standing uncomfortably close to each other, the proximity palpable. The warmth of her breath gently grazed your forehead, creating a tantalizing sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.

She took a deep breath.

“What I did was bad. But — fuck, Jesse and Dina never slept over, you know that?”

The room fell quiet.

“So?” you whispered. You couldn’t even look at her.

“Don’t do this” she begged. Her eyes were glossy. She looked as if she was about to cry, too. Her chest was pressed up against yours.

“I’m not doing anything” you mumbled quietly. Her body was so warm. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack, and Ellie felt like she already did.

“If I would have stayed… I would have done something… so much worse” she whispered. Her hands were trembling.

“What would you have done?” you whispered against her. Dangerously close now. You could feel her unsteady heartbeat.

“You know” she whispered back. You saw the vein on her neck, how beautifully spattered the freckles on her skin were, like a constellation.

“Please” you begged.

That’s all it took.

Almost.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The proximity between your lips was almost intimate, an agonizingly close distance.

“Please” you begged.

Her eyes were dark, breaths unsteady and fast, like she just ran a marathon. Her chest was rising up and down. She’s dreamt of this moment, for so fucking long. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t fuck more people up. She’s done more than enough.

“You don’t know what you fucking do to me” She whispered against your skin. Her eyes were shut closed. If she didn’t see, maybe it would’ve been less wrong. If she didn’t see, maybe Cat wouldn’t either. She could go home, kiss her girlfriend good night. Walk away. But there you were, pressed up against her, making her head spin like a carousel, fogging her brain with your scent, and your lips, and all of the times she pictured you like this, helpless and begging. She never looked at Cat how she looked at you. Cat never made her feel like she could faint at any given moment. Cat was safe, she was a sunny day. You were a thunderstorm, a cloud, soaking her up. When Ellie said she would have done something so much worse, she meant that.

Cat was right when she told her to stay away, she always was. When Ellie begged Cat to stop her ramblings, Cat told her she looks at you like she’s hungry. That it’s disgusting, that she wishes it was her. She was crying, and begging, and she was right. That’s why Ellie knocked on your door that way. One person she could save.

Ellie’s hands were firmly pressed up against the wall, locking you in.

“You dont know…” she whispered.

You whimpered silently at her words. You were aching everywhere, you just needed her to do something.

“Show me” you said, and it came out more as a plead. You were begging her.

Ellie leaned in, drawing her face closer to yours, and your lips delicately brushed against each other. The electrifying touch sent a shiver down your spine, evoking a soft, involuntary moan that escaped your lips. It went straight to her heart, and then slipped right to her cunt.

Her lips were plump against yours. Just barely touching.

She delicately brushed her lips against yours, causing a gentle collision that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. A shaky breath escaped her mouth.

“Ellie…” you whispered. Ellie, just do it. you can’t take it anymore.

She abruptly slammed her hands against the wall, causing it to tremor ever so slightly. The suddenness of the action startled you, making you jump in response.

“Shit” she huffed.

And her lips weren’t against yours anymore, neither was she.

Ellie backed away. She couldn’t.

Your lips quivered, and there it was. Her precious thunderstorm erupting.

The tears came out hot, and sticky. They ran all over your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob. Ellie was staring, her breaths uneven and her mouth agape. She almost did what shes been dreaming of doing since the moment she saw you. Almost.

your legs betrayed you, giving out completely. You crumbled down onto the floor, unable to stand any longer. With tears welling up in your eyes, you instinctively curled up, bringing your head between your legs as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to consume you.

It was a truly pathetic sight, Ellie towering over your quivering body. It’s been two whole years, and you missed her every single day that passed. It was gnawing at you. Seeing them hand in hand, kissing on the street, making out behind the dumpster. Thinking of Ellie hugging her at night, caressing her skin, touching her everywhere, telling her she loves her, fucking her, tasting her and not you. It should have been you. But it couldn’t be.

If only you knew that when Ellie was between her thighs, you were the only one she thought of. If only you knew Ellie had to bite her lip till it bled to stop from screaming your name. That’s why Ellie always turned off the lights, That’s why Ellie shoved Cat’s face down on the bed with her entire palm when she took her from behind. That’s why she always closed her eyes.

Her body gave up on her, too.

She sat on the cold concrete floor, trying to steady her breaths.

“Look at me” she commanded. It was breathy, and shaky, more of a plea than a real command.

You wiped your tears.

“I can’t” you whispered.

“Please” she begged.

You mustered the strength to lift your face, raising your gaze to meet hers.

“I think about you all the time” you blurted.

She huffed in response. Your soft voice was killing her. She couldn’t even respond. She just watched.

“Ellie…” you whined. The distance between you was torturous. There was so much space, and at the same time, no space at all. You could still feel her lips brushing against yours. You wished you could taste her. She yearned for that even more. She felt like something was chaining her down to the floor, holding her captive.

What you did next, is something Ellie had buried deep inside her darkest fantasies.

You delicately caressed your smooth neckline, doe eyes burning through her’s.

Ellie swallowed deeply.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, lower than a whisper. Her voice was raspy, and her pupils were blown out. She was imagining, for sure, hallucinating, intoxicated by the picture of you being pressed up against her. It couldn’t be real.

“I need you” you whimpered.

She almost crawled right to you right then and there. Her knees were spread open in front of you. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart felt like it was leaping out of her chest.

“You cant” she insisted. It felt like she tried to convince herself, and not you. You couldn’t. There’s no way.

“I want you” you whispered, lowering your hand to caress your breasts.

Something took over you. Being pent up with frustration for years birthed such a desperate sight, she couldn’t fathom it.

She grunted in response. Do that again and she’d lose her fucking mind.

You cupped your breast.

Ellie threw her head against the wall. She forgot how to breathe. Her nostrils were flared, and she almost slapped herself in order to convince her that this was real. This was happening.

“Holy shit” she wheezed.

“Please” you begged, and squeezed your breast forcefully. Your nippled hardened against the material, so you gave them a twist, sending a bolt of electricity right through your clothed cunt.

Ellie’s mouth was agape. She was transfixed, mesmerized. Her cheeks grew more red by the second. It was so fucking wrong, she almost told you to stop, but she couldn’t. Her voice felt dry and her brain was buzzing. Her ex best friend was so desperate for her she couldn’t even help herself.

The image of Cat went through her head. Cat seeing, walking in. Cat trembling and crying, telling her she told her so. Cat screaming at her that she’s an awful person, that she hurt her, That she should burn in hell.

Then, you took your shirt off.

And Cat was gone.

Her eyes were darting from your tits to your needy eyes. You were giving her that look she only saw in her dreams. That desperate, pathetic twinkle in your eye. She saw a girl look like that in an old porno she found. Ever since, that picture of your face replacing the actresses burned through her memory. She knew it was for her, you were showing her, but she looked like she wasn’t supposed to see, a peeping tom, a pervert. Her cunt twitched inside her tight black boxers. Cat never made her cunt feel like this.

The dainty lace bra adorned your body. you looked like an angel, eyes red from crying, cheeks still wet, chest rising up and down. She wanted to ruin you.

You stopped for a second, looked for a sign to keep going.

The room was silent, the only noises that muttered were your soft whimpers and Ellie’s harsh, uneven breaths.

“Take it off” she whispered. You almost couldn’t believe she said that. You nodded pathetically. She always knew you’d be like this. She imagined you nodding your head frantically, kneeling beneath her and undoing her belt, way too many times she wouldn’t dare to admit. Her heavy breaths were a confession to all of her sins.

You unclasped your bra, your tits spilling out of it with a sigh of relief.

Ellie was hypnotized, fully staring. She remembered the first tine she saw you in a bikini. Jesse noticed she was staring, and he gave her some advice. “Look at the ground or the sky, pretend there’s something super interesting going on there”

She didn’t need to pretend now.

“Fuck” she grunted, feeling her cunt twitch inside her briefs. Her mouth was agape, she wanted those nipples between her teeth. Her tongue slightly moved involuntarily inside her mouth, imitating the kitten licks she’d give your tits if she could. It was truly pathetic. Thank god you couldn’t see. Her fists were clenched, and she was forcing her feet onto the ground. If she pretended something was pulling her in, she wouldn’t crawl towards you and take you like she always wanted.

You toyed with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers, almost as if you read her mind.

“Spit on ‘em” Ellie demanded desperately.

“Ellie…” You whimpered, her voice was making you grow wetter by the second. If you took your pants off, she could see the wet patch that soaked through your panties, making them almost sheer. You were almost embarrassed, but it was too late now.

“Do it” she commanded.

“Do it for me” Ellie begged. She brought a hand up to cup at her perky clothed breast. She imagined it was you, your tits between her fingers. She wanted to squeeze the fat, take it in, spit on it, latch her mouth onto your nipples, slap them as you ride her thigh, or her face, or her whatever the fuck you wanted.

The saliva ran down your chest, droplets flowing at an incredibly slow pace, each and every one of them teasing Ellie, mocking her. Almost there, almost reaching your sensitive nipples. When it finally did, Ellie was breathing so heavy she almost wheezed.

You rubbed the spit all over your tits, glazing your nipples with the liquid, coating them shiny with your saliva - all for her. You were staring at ellie with your mouth open. You moaned at the sensation, making Ellie shift and slightly slide off the wall. She was gone.

“Feels so good” you whined.

“Fucking shit” She huffed. She bucked her hips, searching for that friction. She didn’t do it yet, but oh she will.

“Mhhm” you hummed, a high pitched moan escaping your lips.

Ellie almost went cross eyed.

“Need you, please” You whispered while massaging your breasts. You were squeezing the fat harshly, almost punishing yourself for being such a dirty, desperate girl.

“Show me” She begged, in between breaths.

“Show me how bad - shit”

You cupped your cunt, your hand feeling warm over it. Your clit twitched. Ellie let out a moan so deep, you almost came right then and there, all over your panties.

You circled your clit through your pants, teasing Ellie without even realizing. I can do it, and you can’t! It felt like you were mocking her.

“Take that shit off — fuck” she huffed. Her hand was resting on her thigh, pinching it. Stay down. Don’t crawl, don’t fuck, don’t cheat.

In a matter of six seconds, your pants were on the floor. You crossed your legs together in embarrassment. What if she saw how wet you were?

“Spread” She commanded.

You looked at her stupidity.

“Spread ‘em, please” Ellie begged.

You spread your legs slowly, revealing your soaked white cotton panties to Ellie. Her eyes rolled back at the sight.

“Fucking shit” she grunted.

Her hand met her own cunt and gave it a stinging slap, followed by a desperate grunt. She moved her veiny hand up and down, almost grabbing her pussy. She felt perverted, and sickly, and so, so good. The friction of her hand on her cunt was followed by a string of deep moans, chanting your name like a prayer. She didn’t even know how bad she needed it.

“Wider” She commanded.

You spread your legs so wide your thighs almost hurt. When Ellie saw that wet spot, she lost it.

“So wet” she whispered in disbelief.

“Show me that pussy” She whimpered.

“Show me that fucking pussy”

You moved your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your clit making you flinch. You swore you could cum just from clenching in and out, listening to the obscenities leaving her mouth.

“Holy shit” She moaned, and cupped her cunt forcefully.

“So pretty” she whispered. It was even prettier than she thought, glistening folds and a little puffy button poking out. She needed to see inside, everywhere.

“Spread it with your fingers” She grunted. You parted your lips with your pointer finger and your thumb, wide open for her. She saw how bad you were clenching, begging for something inside. Your puffy clit moved with every pull.

“Wanna fuck you so bad” she groaned, it was killing her.

“Need to see you Ellie, please, please” you begged.

With that whine leaving your mouth, Ellie unzipped her jeans, and pulled down her boxers slowly, revealing you of the most beautiful sight youve ever seen in your life.

Her thighs were creamy, a mound of soft, dark hair adorning her pubis. Her slick was shining on her milky inner thighs from the boxer briefs she took off slightly brushing on them. She was so wet, it almost glistened like a far away star, deep in the galaxy. Her mouth was parted and she looked famished.

Tiny droplets of sweat were shining on her forehead, making her hair stick to her face. She was a panting, desperate mess.

You couldn’t help but slide your hand up your thigh, and started running your fingers through your glistening folds. Finally. “Oh god, Ellie” you moaned. You wished those were her fingers, if you could, if you only could.

Ellie moaned like a porn star at the sight. You thought she might tease herself, might play with her cunt before doing something. She proved you wrong.

She slid two long fingers inside her aching hole, squelching sounds filling the air. She pumped them in and out, fucking herself like a madwoman. Her hungry eyes were fixated on your fingers caressing your needy cunt. Her mouth was watering, borderline drooling, soft “ah!”s escaping her lips.

You circled your clit slowly, and felt your lower stomach leap at the contact. You lapped your slick with your middle finger, and sucked on it. It was obscene. Ellie’s cunt twitched. She almost came.

“Good girl” She groaned at the sight.

“Faster” She commanded, a deep moan escaping her lips.

You fastened your pace, and she was looking you directly in the eyes while pumping her fingers inside her cunt. With every pump, you could see a milky cream coating her fingers, the sight alone made your puffy clit ache with pleasure.

It was so wrong, and obscene, and pathetic, and you almost came.

“Fucking shit — fuck yourself, show me, fuck yourself” She whimpered, fastening her pace as well. The moans that left her mouth were deep, bursting from the inside of her soul.

Her fucking ex best friend.

“E — Ellie m’close” you whined, inserting a finger inside your soaking hole.

“Can see how fucking tight you are - fuck”

“Faster, do it f’me baby faster” She groaned.

The harmony of your moans intertwined, creating an intoxicating symphony.

“Ellie — gonna cum, fuck” You babbled, drool running down your chin. You were so close, eyes rolling to the back of your Ellie filled brain.

“Please fuck me, please fuck me”

“Cu — Fuck, shit, m’cuming” Ellie grunted.

“Say my fucking name” She demanded, her words coming out so sloppy and ridiculous.

“Ellie — Ellie! Please!”

Ellie almost screamed. She wanted to tell you to come for her, wanted to hear the noises youd make, see your face twist and the screams of her name, but she couldn’t help herself, the sight of your desperate cunt and the look on your face, so stupid, so cumdrunk, so pathetic, begging her to fuck you - brought her to the edge. It errupted inside of her like a volcano, pumping and squeezing on her fingers. She rode her orgasm until it tickled and hurt.

When you came, Ellie almost shed a tear.

This wasn’t just wrong.

This was vile.

She pulled up her pants up and left without saying a word, too embarrassed to look you in the face.

When she got home, Cat was sound asleep on her bed. She gave her a delicate kiss on the cheek, and whispered;

“I’m so sorry”

[atlalasassy]

Nora saying that Riko burned the number seven onto Andrew in a universe where Andrew becomes a Raven haunts me. What does it mean? Was it as a punishment for Riko catching Andrew smoking cigarettes? Was it just because of Andrew generally not cooperating? Where did he burn the number onto him? Because there is no way it could’ve been on the cheek where the perfect court tattoos are because that would a thousand percent cause an investigation into the Ravens. He must’ve burned it onto Andrew somewhere that was hidden by their gear. Maybe his back? Or possibly onto his wrists on top of his past self-harm scars? And don’t even get me started on the parallels between this and Neil being burned by a dashboard lighter by Lola and his dad’s men in the book.

[waitforyrlove]

˙ . ꒷ introducing personal trainer ! drew . 𖦹˙—

meeting personal trainer ! drew for the first time.

he was everything, the kind of face you only see on screens, plastered across the internet, his name etched in the credits of blockbuster movies. He was untouchable, a admiration you could only admire from afar. But then, like a joke, the universe aligned in the strangest way. Through some twist of fate—or your mom’s ability to network with his mom—Drew wasn’t just a distant person anymore. He was here, in your orbit, as a personal trainer assigned to you.

it was the kind of collision that could split universes.

you arrived at the gym, your heart thudding like a bad drum solo, the weight of it all pressing heavier than anything. The place was nearly empty, a quiet stage set for an encounter that felt both surreal and terrifying. He wasn’t just the guy from your screen anymore, he was in flesh and bone, waiting for you in a space where every little thing could happen.

you gripped the door handle and paused. This wasn’t just a meeting. This was like stepping into a parallel universe.

you stepped inside, the cool air of the gym hitting your face like reality itself. The place smelled of fresh rubber mats and faintly of sweat—you scanned the space, your breath catching when you spotted him.

he wasn’t posing for a camera or performing. He was leaning casually against a weight rack, scrolling through his phone, his jawline sharp enough to cut through your nerves. His hair was tousled in that effortlessly perfect way. He looked up as you entered, his face breaking into a smile that made him seem… normal, almost.

“You must be my new client,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. Not rehearsed. Not scripted. Just real.

you nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of every move you made. Did your gym clothes look okay? Were your sneakers too scuffed? Could he tell you’d Googled him for hours last night, trying to prepare yourself for this moment?

“Don’t be nervous,” he added, as if reading your mind. “Everyone starts somewhere.” He motioned for you to join him, his tone as casual as if you were old friends meeting up instead of a star and some random gym-goer linked by their moms’ ability to link.

you walked over, still trying to believe this was happening. He picked up a clipboard and scanned it like he’d done this a hundred times before, but you couldn’t help wondering what was going through his mind. Was this just another gig for him? A break from the spotlight? Or did he see this as a chance to be… normal, even for a moment?

“All right,” he said, looking up at you with a grin. “Let’s start with something easy. How’s your stamina?”

you almost laughed out loud at the question. Not great, you wanted to say, considering it had taken all your emotional reserves just to show up today. But instead, you nodded and stammered, “It’s… okay, I guess.”

Drew’s grin widened, and he grabbed a pair of light dumbbells. “Let’s warm up. And don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

you didn’t know if it was the charisma, the absurdity of the situation, or the way he spoke like he actually believed it, but for the first time, you let yourself relax. Maybe, just maybe, this collision of worlds wasn’t as terrifying as you thought.

the warm-up was harmless enough—light weights, stretches, and a jog on the treadmill that had your legs feeling slightly wobbly. he kept it professional, guiding you with the calm authority of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Still, every time he brushed past or adjusted your form, you felt like a live wire, your body hyperaware of his presence.

the came the squats.

“Okay,” Drew said, grabbing a barbell and loading it with what looked like a manageable amount of weight. “Squats are all about form. It’s not about how much you can lift—it’s about doing it right. Otherwise, you’re asking for an injury.” He turned to you, his smile teasing. “And trust me, I’m not letting that happen, yeah?”

you nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the way his fitted shirt clung to his chest, his abs more predominant than ever. He positioned you in front of the squat rack, stepping closer than before. “I’m going to check your form,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “so don’t freak out if I adjust you a bit.”

your pulse quickened as you slid under the barbell, your hands gripping the cool steel. You tried to focus on the instructions—feet shoulder-width apart, core engaged—but it was impossible with Drew standing so close, his presence magnetic.

you lowered into the first squat, your movements stiff and uncertain. “Not bad,” he mutters, his voice warm. “But you’re leaning forward a bit too much. Here.” He stepped behind you, his hands lightly grazing your hips. The contact sent a jolt up your spine.

“Relax,” he said softly, his tone soothing. “i’m just helping you align.” His hands guided your hips back slightly, his fingertips firm but careful. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath brushing the back of your neck as he spoke. “Imagine you’re sitting down in a chair—hips back, chest up. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. You dropped into another squat, this time following his adjustments. His hands lingered for a moment, steadying you, and you swore you felt his thumbs press slightly as if to reassure you.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his voice dipping just enough to make your stomach flip. “you’ve got it now.”

you straightened, trying to calm the pounding in your chest, but he wasn’t done. “Let’s do a few more reps,” he said, stepping even closer. “and I’ll spot you to make sure you stay balanced.

you swallowed hard and lowered again, the weight pressing down on your shoulders. This time, Drew’s hands hovered near your waist, ready to catch you if you wobbled. His voice was steady, guiding you through each movement. “Nice, controlled. That’s it.”

with each rep, the air between you seemed to grow heavier, charged with something unspoken. On the last squat, your legs trembled slightly, and Drew’s hands quickly caught your waist, steadying you before you could stumble.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” he said, his voice close to your ear now. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing against your sides just enough to ground you. For a second, you were aware of everything—his strength, his scent, the way his body seemed to align perfectly with yours.

you straightened up, the barbell returning to the rack with a loud clang. Drew stepped back, giving you space, but the look in his eyes lingered—a flicker of something that wasn’t entirely professional.

“Nice work,” he said, his smile back, though his voice carried an edge of something deeper. “you’re a quick learner.”

you tried to play it cool, wiping your palms on your leggings, but your heart was still racing. Maybe it was just the workout. Or maybe… it wasn’t.

his words hung in the air, laced with that playful undertone that made it impossible to ignore the tension building between you. He stepped forward again, just enough to breach your personal space, as if testing an invisible boundary. His eyes searched yours, a glint of mischief sparking behind them.

“I bet I can push you just a little more.”

your breath hitched, was he still talking about training?

before you could answer, Drew reached past you, his arm brushing yours as he adjusted the barbell on the rack. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine. “How about we finish with one more set?” he suggested, his voice dropping an octave. “This time, we’ll add a little more weight. You up for the challenge?”

“I… think so,” you managed, though your voice came out shakier than you’d intended.

“Good,” he said, stepping back with a sly smile. “But we’re doing this together.”

your brows furrowed. “Together?”

he nodded, already removing his hoodie to reveal a snug tank top that clung to his toned frame. “A little extra motivation goes a long way.” He gestured for you to get into position under the bar. As you did, he stepped behind you once more, closer than before.

“This time,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, “i’ll hold the bar with you. Don’t worry—I’ll take some of the weight if it gets too much.”

your heart was hammering in your chest as you slid your hands back onto the bar. You felt his hands move next to yours, his grip firm and steady. His body was so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, his chest just barely brushing your back.

“Ready?” he asked, his tone making the word feel loaded.

“Yeah,” you whispered, though it came out more like a breath.

“Good,” he said, leaning closer, his breath grazing the shell of your ear. “now let’s make this count.”

as you lowered into the squat, Drew followed, his body moving in perfect sync with yours. His hands remained firm on the bar, but you couldn’t ignore the way his chest seemed to align perfectly with your back, his presence both steadying and electric.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice smooth and encouraging. “keep your core tight. I’ve got you.”

when you rose, your legs trembling slightly under the weight, Drew didn’t let go. Instead, his hands shifted subtly, his fingers grazing yours. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of something more than just encouragement.

you glanced back over your shoulder, catching the flicker of heat in his gaze. For a moment, the gym seemed to fade away, the sounds of clanging weights and distant music muted by the intensity of the moment.

“You okay?” Drew asked, his lips curving into a smirk that was equal parts concern and challenge.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice a little steadier now. “Let’s do one more.”

his grin widened, his eyes never leaving yours as he leaned in just a fraction closer. “That’s what I like to hear.”

you weren’t sure whether it was the workout, the proximity, or the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a promise, but as you lowered into that final squat, you knew one thing for sure—Drew wasn’t just pushing your limits in the gym. He was blurring the line between professional and something far more dangerous.

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs Part 11

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6|

Part 7 | Part 8 | Xmas | Part 9 | Part 10 | Collection

Happy Easter all! And in honour of the Dead Boy Detectives Anniversary I thought it was time for another fic rec list. Happy anniversary, fandom! You're all the best! ♥️

nobody ever made me crazy like this by Cesare

Edwin is cursed with the body of a beautiful girl and Charles has a lot of feelings about it. It's fun and I liked that Edwin is still very much himself, if feminised. The author is sensitive towards gender issues and it's nice to see Edwin have fun and experiment a little with supportive friends.

Is that a blue sky? It's about damn time by cordelianoir

Soulmate timer AU! Obviously, the implications of soulmate timers for payneland are interesting and give this fic a nice dose of melancholia.

it's magnetic, isn't it? (the sense of something underneath the surface) by KiaraSayre

Alive Boys AU where the boys get high and make out. Love that for them.

care and keeping by cutevamp

Charles-centric about Edwin getting Charles little gifts to show his appreciation (and maybe courtship??). It's super cute! Also the agency watches Heartstopper and teases Charles. Just adorable.

pandemonium: repose by singtome

Another Alive Boys AU, this time Charles is an exorcist trying to save possessed!Edwin. Fantastic concept and so well executed!

Devil on my Shoulder by lucrow

In which the boys encounter evil parallel universe versions of themselves who are insanely violent and also insanely in love. Honestly, I love Bonnie and Clyde payneland and given Charles' radical devotion, I can see it playing out like that, had they decided to go a less altruistic route. Also has fabulous fanart.

Lovely Poison by tragedy_machine

Charles is struck with a love potion (apparently) and Edwin is determined to Cure him of his totally-not-genuine affection. Kind of angsty and suspenseful.

Freeze by justafandomfollower

During a case, Edwin reckons with his Hell Trauma via a possessed doll. Part of a series exploring each member of the agency's fear responses.

Two Gay, Bitchy, Englishmen by ofstitches

In which Edwin and Aziraphale feud over books and Charles introduces Crystal to Crowley. Edwin Vs Aziraphale is so funny, think Unstoppable Force meets Unmoveable Object.

The Case of the Angel of Soho by polymona

Another Good Omens crossover! Featuring the boys sneaking into the bookshop over the years and a bonus appearance of Muriel! Short and sweet fic.

Somewhere Beyond the Sea by DontOffendTheBees

Ponyo AU! Insanely cute with serious baby Edwin and hyperactive fish!baby Charles. So far it's been about the boys growing up together, which is adorable, though there have also been hints of future Plot and some interesting worldbuilding details.

we get to stay around and watch the stars come out by laiqualaurelote

In which Charles is married to Crystal, who wants a divorce, and is father to twins, who are being bullied, and it all gets worse when they're attacked by armed gunmen. Black Doves AU written for Sparch (Spy March) with Spy Crystal and her long lost best friend Assassin Edwin making a truly excellent dramatic entrance at the end. It looks like they're all going to go on the run together and I honestly can't wait!

Go Loud by dear_monday and two_ravens

Another offering for Sparch, this time a Mr. and Mr(s) Smith AU. So so delicious.

He's beauty and he's grace by Hse11z5

Detective Charles Rowland must go undercover as a contestant at a beauty pageant so of course he needs a makeover! Featuring kind of a slob Charles endlessly pining over his totally uninterested partner Edwin and the Cat King as Michael Caine. This Miss Congeniality Sparch fic is so much fun!

ghost protocol by handwrittenhello

Another Sparch fic, but James Bond! In which Edwin is basically Q and must accompany Agent Charles Rowland in the field to save the world with his Maths Genius skills! Read it for yearning, disarming nuclear weapons and Edwin proving he's an absolute madman.

The Empire Below by dearheartdont

1920s AU for Sparch featuring Police Woman Niko going undercover to investigate drug deals in London's underground scene. So it's lucky she's also reconnecting with her good friend, Edwin Payne, who's willing to guide her through the empire's queer, criminal subcultures. Really interesting and evocative period setting (complete with period typical racism and misogyny) that also promises case fic and future palasaki and payneland. Recommended!

@dear-monday @dear-lucrow @dearheartdont @tw0-ravens @handwrittenhello @laiqualaurelote @dont-offend-the-bees @polymona @justafandomfollower @tragedy-machine @cordelia-noir @thenyoumaykissthebride @e-payne @codenamecesare @starsandatoms @guardianspirits13 @whatthehorsedoicallthisblog @bibliomancer7 @tumblerislovetumblerislife @tessaaaaa @shazziez @icurlybooks @lavenderlovers-stuff @kuwdora @tigerliliesandcherryblossoms @khorazir @avoiceofnerat @neurodivergent-fangirling @many-gay-magpies @c-rowland @extremely-eager-reader @northen-light @fairandfatalasfair @peppermenttea @movie-watching-monster @dbda-anniversary

[tazmiilly]

What happened to Stanley in your mind in the 'a better universe' universe?

to the first ask, i actually answered this ask a long time ago here but i think i can probably add a few more thoughts. got some below for you if youre interested :]

to the second ask, in the journal ford gets information from parallel fiddleford as to what possibly could've been the diverging point between his world and canon's.

this is pretty much all we know. we dont even know what made him come to these conclusions. They could even be assumptions he made. its possible the journal still exists, but what we do know that's completely different between this dimension and the other is that stan listened to ford one way or another. If ford wanted him to not destroy the book, maybe he didnt? stan could've sent it somewhere else without destroying it.

back to specifically the first ask. I do think stan stays with ford and fiddleford even though stan's legal situation is probably pretty fucked. how he stays out of jail? idk. laying low probably. a shack in the middle of the woods probably helps. I dont think ford or fiddleford would feel that stans situation is too much to put on their plate considering its already sky high with "portal that is a gateway to hell in your basement" "demon who can possess your brother without permission whenever he wants" and "his friends cult of mind erasers has to be dismantled somehow". like at that point stans the most normal guy of the 3. and hes so far from a normal situation himself.

I think they all just kinda hang tight and get through it together. they're all really strong characters on their own.

[tb3ih]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS, fushiguro megumi.

[ CLASSMATE!megumi has you wishing for more than the night... ]

⨳ cw: smut, 18+ (mdni), alcohol consumption, university jjk parallel, cunnilingus, pussy-drunk!megumi, creampie, use of 'sweetheart', fem!reader.

fushiguro megumi is all bite no bark. he is a silent killer, stealing hearts from across the crowded club floor and sneaking out the back doors. he's got a face of porcelain and inky black locks that you find only extend his encapsulating aura if you manage to slip past the grasp of those beautiful jade irises.

rarely smiles and never manages to sustain his interest for more than a minute, you find yourself only a little surprised to see him sitting quietly in one of the club booths, his friends laughing over booze while he sits wordlessly holding a cup of something expensive.

you know him from some of your classes at university, though you hardly had the time to consider who he was. after all; being a scholarship student meant you spared no time for silly little pleasantries. it was only now--with graduation around the corner and all your exams done--did you allow yourself to unwind.

and he was the type of guy you promised to steer clear of--the inconsiderate kind to wear maison margiela to reel you in and leave you wondering why you even let him the next morning in his empty bedsheets.

so you're at the bar, shooting something that burns all the way down your throat before you let your heel-clad feet carry you to the sea of people on the floor. the bass of the music is booming and you let the your limbs flow with the rhythm you seem to swim in.

it's hot, crowded, and claustrophobic, but you've never felt more free.

"any room for a plus one?" when you turn to follow the sound of his voice, megumi stands close to you, the lights of the club dancing across the planes of his face.

you scoff, eyes falling down to the see that the tips of his fingers ghost at your waist.

he's waiting for an invitation.

so you carry your eyes back up to meet his gaze. "that depends," you reply, "if you can keep up."

and you never thought yourself much of a dancer, but something in the way his lips pull with the faintest bit of amusement and the weight of his hands when they do settle on the small of your back has you wanting nothing more than to fall into this unspoken tango between the two of you.

so you do.

and maybe when you feel the burning in your throat you blame it on the empty brandy bottle on your apartment floor because it never be the way his lips dance across your neck as you sit on the cold marble of your kitchen counter. your fingers find his collar, popping the expensive buttons and relishing the way the clinking sound they make bouncing across the tile of your kitchen.

you hear him laugh lowly against your jugular, muttering something about how you're the first to ever ruin such an expensive shirt. you only laugh in reply, telling him to shut up as you practically tear the material off of him, eyes raking over the way the contours of his chest and shoulders are painted in the moonlight of your kitchen. and in a flash, your poor dress is next, the cool of the air causing a sigh to escape your lips as the zipper comes undone and the fabric is discarded somewhere in the room.

his strong hands are pressing against your thighs, his force slow yet strong as he opens you up like a book. his lips find yours once more and you think you like the way he groans when you sink your incisors into the flesh of his bottom lip.

"fuck," he breathes, hands moving to grip under your thighs to pull you to the edge of the counter. "i could devour you and it'd never be enough."

and the two of you are a mess. half muttered curses and moans fall from your lips as he traces a path from your collarbones through the plain of your chest and down your abdomen. you feel the way his voice whispers promises into your skin as he unfurls you like silk on the marble counter, the occasional groan leaving his lips when his ears catch the way you call his name.

"may i?" you almost don't hear it because he's whispering it, eyes on the damp patch on your panties.

you take a second to catch your breath, "what?"

his thumb applies pressure to your clothed entrance, your walls quivering just slightly at the contact in a way that has you embarrassed. your body betrays you the way it craves the man before you.

megumi's gaze comes to meet yours, somehow repeating the question silently. you nod, "yes, please, anything..."

and that's all he needs before he's hooking a deft finger into the hem of your panties, discarding it over his shoulder like every boundary and shred of self-respect you thought you had when the night started in that crowded club.

two fingers prod at your entrance, and you can't help the arch that forms in your back when he does finally push in, relieve the aching in your core that has you breathless. "god, you're fuckin' beautiful..."

his mouth is parted, eyes hazy as they watch the way you cover his fingers in arousal. from the tone of your whines to the way your body reacts to his touch has something feral clicking in his head and he can't help himself when he finally brings his mouth down to your aching pussy. "holy shit."

he's tongue and lips on your aching core. he eats, you think, like a man starved. and you think to thank all the girls before you because he's got you mewling his name and your mind going blank with pleasure. you feel the familiar pull in your stomach, the occasional bump of his nose against your swollen clit bringing you closer and closer to your high, and you fear you might just like the way his edging makes the corners of your vision burn.

"hey," he mumbles against you, and you feel him pause, the loss of contact causing you to find his expression from between your legs in the dim light of the room. "it's not too late to stop, you know."

megumi's voice is soft and you like the way his words fall from his tongue to settle in your ears. "no i'm okay, really..." there is a clinking of metal, probably the buckle of his belt as it hits the floor of the kitchen and you hear his zipper follow.

he is no longer below you but above you, pushing you to lay back on the cool of the counter. there's something warm pressing to your exposed core and you're not quite processing things until his hand comes hold your face ever so gently.

"focus, sweetheart," he says, though from the look in his eyes and the way he sucks in a ragged breath, you think he's trying to will himself to do the same.

so you let your eyes drink him in, from the outline of his tousled hair, the jade of his eyes, and the heaving of his chest. he still has hand holding your face and you shift your head to bring your lips to his fingers, pressing gently.

"please?"

and that breathless whisper is all he needs before slamming his hips against yours, filling you till all the breath's escaped your lungs and your vision hasn't even the room for stars to fill it.

it's all so strange to you; the way his eyes trace over where your bodies connect, a nearly amorous glint in those beautiful jade irises. his pace is fast yet sure, and you're not so intoxicated by him that you don't catch the way his thumbs rub lightly over where his grip had been bruising only moments ago.

think nothing of it, you repeat in your mind every time you think his kisses on your neck linger a bit too long or the way his tone seems to rouse your heart when he's muttering how good this feels, how good you feel.

you know he's close when you feel the stuttering of his pace, the lilt of his voice getting desperate as he continues. his hand is back on your clit, applying a delicious amount of pressure that has you gasping his name again and again and again.

"ah ah," he coos, his free hand releasing your hip to frame your face, jade eyes alight with something more than amusement when you have no choice but to meet his gaze. "don't hide from me, sweetheart, i wanna know how you feel," he says.

and you can feel your own climax coming closer, his pace slowing but his thumb working simultaneous at your bundle of nerves. your stomach is tight and you think you might scream but he's got his lips against yours in an instant, your thighs locked tightly around his hips as he makes a final thrust, pouring warmth into you as finish with him. back arched and stomach pressed against his chest, you're both chasing the oxygen you find from each other, letting the rest of your high settle yet making no move to separate.

"'m sorry about that," megumi mumbles against your lips, eyes looking falling to where the two of you are still connected, "i forgot to ask if that was alright..."

you blink at him, something light bubbling in your stomach until it breaks a smile across your swollen lips and rings out as laughter. his expression is genuinely perplexed and you take a moment to gather yourself, tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes. "you... just had me on my kitchen counter," you start, "and you're apologizing for finishing inside without asking first?"

his face contorts into a scowl, rose dusting his cheeks a little. he ducks his head, lips meeting your neck before muttering a small "yeah". his eyes are a little bashful when they meet yours again and you're surprised by the vulnerability in the way he's looking at you. "...felt like heaven..."

your hands hold his face and you chuckle, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks to reassure him that it was alright for him to do that. "but uhm," you say, clearing your throat a little, "could we move somewhere a little more comfortable? i think you might break my spine if we go another round on the counter..."

his lips curl and you don't know if you've prepared yourself spiritually for the way his eyes hold a mischievous glint in them. "thought you'd never ask, sweetheart," he replies, shifting his face to press a chaste kiss against the palm of your hand before lifting you off the counter effortlessly.

fushiguro megumi was the kind of man you couldn't hold expectations for; but here, in the dim atmosphere of your apartment, you find yourself letting his lips against your skin settle like a promise, hoping more than anything that your heart won't be hurting when the sun comes to replace the moon in sky.

after all, nothing could be more desirable than when it is illicit.

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