#on my Long List of All The Thing I Need To Write

[sizebrained]

I'm not sure if this is *supposed* to be a pair of giant legs the way the telephone pole and line make it look.

But I love this so much I had a little story idea pop up in my head I couldn't get rid of so I had to write it down.

Also great glow up from the last version, love tofupixel's stuff.

Whoops new g/t universe... CW: None, SFW

Word Count: 2,000

*** The town siren's crying wail filled the air. Easily heard over the increasingly louder and louder wind, even all the way out here. As if the angry sky wasn't enough of a warning of what was heading their way. The cows and horses on Jane's farm knew long before the siren had confirmed it. There was a tornado coming. First one of the season. Jane hadn't wanted to grow bigger before the storms, but the animals had panicked. They kept pulling out of Jane and her mother's grips. Desperate to follow their instinct to run away from the oncoming twister.

At her normal size of exactly 5 feet tall, Jane could never have managed to get them to the barn when they were this agitated. Even with her mother and ten year old littler brother Bobby helping.

Bobby's normally annoying demeanor disappeared in these kinds of situations. He was trying very hard to actually help. But one twist of the cow's head sent the poor boy flying sideways every time.

So she focused, held her breath, and grew. When she was done, she was four times her normal size.

It had been several years since Jane had discovered that her body had this "compunction" to grow bigger. She didn't know if it was nature, or magic, or what. She could just grow bigger. A few, mostly random, townfolk knew about Jane’s compunction too but they promised to keep it secret.

When she was big, Jane provided manual labor for them sometimes that would have either been impossible or very expensive otherwise. It helped ensure their silence.

It started shortly after her father died. Also right after she began puberty, like that wasn't hard enough without this complication. At first there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason as to what set Jane to growing, how big she would get, or how long it would last.

For lack of a better word, the family doctor had settled on what happened to Jane as a "compunction." There was nothing in any medical text that he had come across to explain it. Other than being a danger to low ceilings and tight places, he said Jane was otherwise a pretty typical, healthy teenager.

When their family doctor made the first house call after her first growth, he found a 20 foot, very embarrassed looking girl in pigtails looking down at him in the barn. He took it rather well. "Not the strangest thing I've seen to be honest," he told Jane's mother. It always made Jane wonder just what he had seen that her being bigger than an elephant didn't register at the top of his list.

When she first started getting her compunctions, she made the animals nervous in their stables. Even though Jane had cared and fed some of them for years, most were unnerved by her newfound size.

Eventually, the animals got used to Jane's bigger version. Now, most of them didn't seem to think it was unusual to be moved around as easily as a child's favorite stuffed toy.

Jane was currently walking with two cows under her arms towards the barn like they needed to be tucked in for bedtime.

Thankfully, Jane's clothes, and anything else that happened to be touching her body at the time, grew along with her when she did. They couldn't afford to go through clothes at the rate of her body's "compunction spells" otherwise.

One time she grew while she was brushing her hair. It ended up being 10 feet long. Jane had never timed it right to be holding it again when she shrank back down. So the 10 foot brush was hidden up in the barn's haystacks till she did.

Over the past several years she had learned to control it. Somewhat.

Better at directing it was more accurate. She couldn't really control it that much or for that long. It was like tensing a muscle or holding her breath. Trying to hold her breath seemed to slow it down sometimes. But sometimes holding her breath also made her grow.

Jane's body would do what it wanted to do whether her mind agreed or not. She felt like her body betrayed her. Sometimes in more ways than just getting bigger.

And getting back down to her usual size could sometimes take days. Jane was thankful to have finally graduated high school. She got tired of coming up with new excuses for missing so much school, waiting to shrink back down to her normal five foot nothing self. Jane's eyes passed by her bedroom's second story window as she made her way to the barn with the cows. Jane's mother had taken Bobby by his hand, heading as fast as she could manage across the open field between the barn and their modest farmhouse.

They passed each other heading in opposite directions. Jane with cows and her mother with Bobby. Jane's mother yelled over her shoulder at her first born. "Jane! Get those two in the barn now! And if you're not fixing to shrink down in the next 5 minutes to fit in the shelter then you need to make sure you're nowhere near that twister!" "Yes mama. Don't worry about me, just get safe in the shelter with the ankle biter."

At this size, Jane only had to speak in her normal voice to be heard over the increasingly louder wind. Her enormous red converse sneakers were making big oblong imprints in the grass with every step. It felt like she was just going outside in a light rain storm at this size. Bobby wasn't quite small enough to be a literal ankle biter.

Jane smirked about that while walking into the barn door. She was glad she didn't have to duck to fit. Jane carried the cows in like house cats, instead of several thousand pounds of beef. She set the cows down in a big pen in the corner with the three others she had wrangled inside. Jane shushed the animals, scattering some feed like spilt table salt in her enormous fingertips. She offered more calming reassurances down at them in her deep booming voice. Jane felt an overwhelming relief that they hadn't lost any of them. While she was distracted by that fleeting thought of gratitude, like she had jinxed it, their old mare Midnight got her stable door open.

The horse made a run for it out of the barn trying to get away from the coming storm. "Midnight! No!" Jane cried and stomped out of the barn after her. Unfortunately, Bobby also saw Midnight emerge from the open barn door. And while his mother was occupied getting the shelter door open with both hands, Bobby also ran after Midnight.

He started towards Midnight in a straight line as his sister emerged out of the barn shaking the earth in pursuit. Jane glared at the boy for his recklessness. "Bobby get your scrawny ass in the basement! I'll get her!" Jane boomed across the field at her little brother.

She grew noticeably bigger while she yelled. The ten year boy old froze in place at the sound of his big sister's much bigger voice giving him orders. Their mother rushed over to Bobby dragging him, slack jawed and staring at his huge sister, back and down into the basement shelter. Jane caught up to Midnight in a few rushed steps. She slid to a stop and scooped the scared horsed up with one hand. Her kicking hooves lifted up into the air frantically searching for the ground. Jane heard the clattering of the shelter's steel door. Her mother was having a hard time getting the shelter door shut. She looked over to the horizon. The tornado was in sight and it was getting closer.

It was a big one. She felt scared.

Then Jane felt the wrong thing.

"Aw crap," she thought to herself. Jane quickly set Midnight down on the ground again. The horse whinnied but stayed put, agitated but loyal. Jane didn't need to deal with an overgrown horse trampling everything on top of what she knew was coming.

Jane looked down at her shoes. She saw the ground racing away around them while the shoes stayed put.

Jane's mother and Bobby stared up at Jane for one long moment before shutting the shelter door and locking it from the inside. Jane felt queasy as the ground swirled below. Except that wasn't what was happening. Jane was getting bigger. And bigger. Jane looked at the 50 foot telephone pole on the side of the road in front of her house on the long dirt road leading into town. At first she was looking up at it. Then she could stare at the top at eye level without having to crane her neck at all.

In a few heartbeats more, Jane was looking down at it.

And down. And down. It got smaller and smaller as she went up and up.

She could feel her feet sinking into the ground as she got heavier and heavier with every passing moment. Midnight trotted around the growing set of shoes. The horse decided the safest place was in the gap between them. She settled there while they continued to get bigger.

Jane could tell this was going to be a bad one. She closed her eyes and grimaced feeling sick to her stomach like she was on one of the state fair's carnival rides. Jane didn't notice the old blue truck rushing into her driveway. It came to an abrupt stop at an odd angle next to the telephone pole. Another girl, the same age as Jane, stepped out of the truck and looked up at the towering figure filling the sky. "JANE?!" the girl yelled up towards the black clouds where Jane’s head seemed to be going, making Jane's name into two syllables instead of one.

To the girl, it looked like Jane was trying to have a grow off with the approaching tornado. It looked like Jane was fixing to win. She'd never seen her this huge before. The girl yelled again cupping her hands around her mouth, hoping it helped. Jane heard her own name like a whisper. She ventured to open one eye and slowly tilt her head down. She didn't feel like she was going to throw up anymore. That meant it was over.

But everything was tinier than it had ever been. Much, much tinier.

That meant she was big. Really big. Jane didn't want to hazard a guess at just how big. Seeing the 50 foot telephone pole barely reach her ankle told her enough. "Uh...Hi Bets..." Jane said looking down at the ground. She saw the girl cover her ears and cower as Jane's few words shook everything.

Her normal speaking voice at this size was as loud as the town siren.

Jane was suddenly thankful there was a tornado to help cover up her compunction. Jane looked over at how much closer the tornado had gotten and sighed.

She recognized her girlfriend's parked truck. It looked like one of Bobby's toy tin cars next to her huge shoe. "What are you...nevermind...there's no time..." Jane apologized while bending down. One huge finger extended from Jane's hand and gently pushed her girlfriend back into her truck's still open driver side door. Then she pushed the car door shut as delicately as she could manage with her finger tip.

Jane picked up her girlfriend's truck between two fingers, with her safely back inside of it, and lifted it. Up and up and up. Betsy screamed, holding on for dear life inside the truck cabin.

Jane reached down with her other hand and also, very delicately, picked up Midnight with just two fingers like she was picking up a house spider to take outside. Jane turned her head to look at the tornado. Luckily, it would pass harmlessly across the field between the barn and house. She got worked up and huge for nothing.

Mom, Bobby, the animals, and all of their earthly possessions were safe.

Jane lifted the truck up to her face and gave her girlfriend Betsy an awkward smile. Jane’s freckled face filled the smaller girl's windshield like the morning sunrise. Betsy waved back, still a little frightened at seeing Jane this enormous.

Then Jane carefully, and slowly, stepped over the telephone lines and dirt road parallel to her house. The enormous 19 year old took a few steps to the side and watched the tornado pass by her.

At this vantage, she could admire just how beautiful it was and was thankful that the tornado would help cover her enormous sneaker tracks a bit. ***

look at my forever wip

[cheftsunoda]

wait for your love — al12

smau + blurbs

arthur leclerc x !male piastri reader

oscar piastri x !twin brother reader

(a/n) : quick little write for my love @lvechroniclee ! my first time writing with a male reader insert, hope you like it my love 🫶🏻 also working on my list of requests rn! hope to have all out ASAP.

Arthur Leclerc and YN Piastri—Oscar’s twin brother—met during the Prema days, surrounded by speed, sweat, and dreams too big to say out loud. What they had wasn’t supposed to last, but somehow, it did. YN was everything that Arthur wasn’t ready to be loud, proud, and unapologetically himself. Openly gay in a world that still whispered behind closed doors, YN didn’t flinch when the cameras turned. Arthur, on the other hand, kept his love locked behind private Instagram accounts and late-night voice notes.

They lived in the in-between…hidden glances in hotel hallways, fingertips brushing under the dinner table, and love that waited in the shadows of the grid. But the thing about hiding something beautiful for too long? Eventually, it begs to be seen. Arthur’s heart had always belonged to YN but it wasn’t until now…years, podiums, and heartbreaks later, that he realizes he doesn’t want to keep it quiet anymore. Not when he’s in love. Not when it’s real. Not when the person he wants the world to know about has been ready all along. And this time? Arthur’s ready too.

fc : wolfalexanderl on ig

not proofread

—

yn.piastri

nyc 📍

liked by oscarpiastri, hattiepiastri, arthur_leclerc & 1,243,907 others.

yn.piastri : me thinks me needs to stay in nyc forever. thank uuu @/calvinklein 💌

tagged : hattiepiastri, nicolepiastri, & lilyzneimer

—

oscarpiastri : oh so everyone was invited but me? your TWIN brother.

liked by yn.piastri

yn.piastri : wait- are you upset about this? is he showing emotion?

nicolepiastri : he didn’t even show this much emotion when we left him at the airport that one time

liked by yn.piastri and hattiepiastri

hattiepiastri : or when his hamster died

oscarpiastri : lies I cried when squeaky died

oscarpiastri : just not in front of any of you

liked by yn.piastri, hattiepiastri, nicolepiastri and lilyzneimer

lilyzneimer : So much fun! Love you💘

liked by yn.piastri

yn.piastri : love and hugs to you my sister

nicolepiastri : had so much fun with my girls and my boy (if Oscar wasn’t busy ignoring my calls maybe he would’ve been on this trip)

liked by yn.piastri and oscarpiastri

yn.piastri : love you mama

hattiepiastri : next time a brand wants to take you somewhere can it be seoul? been dying to go

liked by yn.piastri

yn.piastri : @/calvinklein

calvinklein : taking notes 📝

arthur_leclerc : my favorite piastri needs to come back asap

liked by yn.piastri

oscarpiastri : I’ve been in monaco the whole time bro

yn.piastri : NOT YOU

—

your pov :

I wasn’t expecting anything different.

After being away for nearly two weeks—bouncing between shoots, cities, and time zones—I thought I’d come back to the usual quiet. Maybe a late-night drive from the airport. Maybe Arthur in a hoodie and cap, waiting in the car with a takeaway coffee and that smile he only gives me when no one’s looking.

That’s how it’s always been between us. Hidden. Safe. Quiet.

Because Arthur wasn’t ready.

Not for the questions. Not for the headlines. Not for the way people might look at him differently just for loving me.

And for a long time, I told myself that was okay. That the sneaking around and the secret hotel rooms and the birthday wishes sent through Oscar were enough. I told myself that what we had was real, even if the world never got to see it.

But when I walked through arrivals, everything felt different.

He was there. No hoodie. No hat. Just Arthur. Nervous, but not hiding.

He walked right up to me, in front of everyone, and pulled me into the kind of hug that felt like more than just welcome back—it felt like I’ve missed you in ways I can’t say out loud.

And then he whispered, “I’m ready.”

I froze. I think part of me thought I imagined it, because how many times had I let myself dream of this moment? But then he looked at me—really looked at me—with that mix of fear and love and absolute certainty.

“I don’t want to keep us quiet anymore. I want people to know who I love.”

And just like that, all the weight I’d been carrying—the silence, the pretending, the second-guessing—started to melt away.

He’s ready. For me. For us. For the truth.

And this time, I’m not the only one standing in the light.

—

He’s curled into me, head on my chest, breathing slow and steady like he always does when he’s trying not to overthink. My fingers move gently through his hair, more out of instinct than anything. The kind of intimacy we built in private, in pieces. Quiet love.

The kind that doesn’t ask for permission, but still begs to be seen.

We haven’t said much since getting home. Just touches. Glances. A shared silence that feels a little less heavy than it used to.

But the question’s been sitting on my tongue all night, and I can’t keep swallowing it down.

“What changed?”

My voice barely breaks the stillness. He stirs a little, his head lifting just enough to meet my eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks, and I can already see the flicker of hesitation behind his lashes.

I run my thumb along the curve of his jaw.

“You. You changed.” I let out a breath. “You used to flinch when someone looked at us too long. You panicked when my hand got too close in public. And then today, you showed up at the airport like you’d been ready your whole life. So… what changed, Arthur?”

There’s a pause—long enough that I think he might retreat again. But he doesn’t. He only presses in closer, arm sliding over my stomach, nose brushing the side of my neck like he’s grounding himself in the moment.

“I got tired,” he says quietly. “Tired of pretending like loving you was something I had to hide.”

I feel my chest tighten, my heart beating just a little harder beneath his cheek.

“You’ve always loved me.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But I used to think keeping it private meant keeping it safe. That if no one saw it, no one could take it away.”

He lifts his head, eyes locking on mine with a clarity that catches me off guard. He’s scared. I can still see it. But underneath that is something stronger. Something real.

“When you left for your trip, I missed you so much it hurt. And then I thought—what if something happened? What if you never came back and no one even knew you were the best thing that ever happened to me?”

His voice wavers, but his gaze doesn’t.

“I don’t want that kind of love anymore. Not the kind that hides. Not with you.”

I’m quiet for a long moment. Then I ask the thing I’ve been afraid to know the answer to.

“Are you still scared?”

He nods.

“But I love you more than I’m scared.”

And that’s it. That’s the truth I’ve been waiting for—not some grand gesture or Instagram post, but this: Arthur Leclerc in my arms, choosing me with his whole heart, even if his voice shakes while doing it.

So I kiss him. Slow. Deep. Certain.

Because finally, we’re not hiding anymore.

—

yn.piastri

spain 📍

liked by arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri & 2,907,098 others.

yn.piastri : in (s)pain

—

oscarpiastri : glad you’re in spain while im here studying data sheets

liked by yn.piastri

yn.leclerc : you could’ve come with us but your twin privileges have expired

charles_leclerc : hmmm do i know this man?

liked by yn.piastri and arthur_leclerc

yn.piastri : oh maybe just a little bit

hattiepiastri : YESSSSSS closest to a hard launch we’ve been in years

liked by yn.piastri

nicolepiastri : So cute! Have fun my loves! ❤️

liked by yn.piastri and arthur_leclerc

arthur_leclerc : need another margarita

liked by yn.piastri

yn.piastri : me too. let’s do it

—

arthur_leclerc

spain 📍

liked by yn.piastri, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri & 1,290,089 others.

arthur_leclerc : spain is best when in love

—

yn.piastri : huh funny seeing you here

liked by arthur_leclerc

username00 : yn and arthur??? oml. hottest couple ever

charles_leclerc : aw the baby of the family is in love 🥰 how cute

liked by arthur_leclerc and yn.piastri

arthur_leclerc : you act like you haven’t known for years

alexandrasaintmleux : ❤️❤️❤️

liked by arthur_leclerc and yn.piastri

carlossainz55 : in my country!?? without visiting me??! rude

liked by arthur_leclerc

—

It’s late — the kind of late that hums with soft streetlight and distant music, where the air is still warm and everything feels just a little bit slower.

We’ve walked for hours. No real destination. Just hand in hand through cobblestone alleys and sleepy plazas, sharing bites of gelato and laughing at each other’s terrible Spanish.

Arthur’s fingers brush mine again, lazily intertwined, like he’s not thinking about it anymore — like it’s become natural, easy. Like he’s not watching over his shoulder to see who might be looking.

We stop at a bench by the beach. The moon’s low, and the waves roll in like a lullaby, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like the world’s not asking us to hide.

He leans against me, head on my shoulder, and we sit like that for a while — saying nothing, but somehow saying everything.

Eventually, he murmurs, almost shyly, “I like who I am with you.”

I look down at him, this boy I’ve loved in quiet hotel rooms and half-lit mornings, and I feel it everywhere — in my chest, in my bones, in the way my thumb automatically finds the back of his hand and starts tracing little circles.

“I like who you are with me too,” I whisper.

It’s simple. It’s soft. But it’s the kind of moment you remember. The kind you tuck away for the flights back home and the busy days ahead. The kind that makes you think: this. this is what love is supposed to feel like.

And for once, neither of us has to pretend.

—

We were supposed to walk separately.

That was the plan.

Not because we’re not together — we are, deeply, hopelessly, in that way where I already know what he wants to eat before he says it. But because public and private have always been two very different worlds for Arthur. For us. And that was fine. I’d gotten used to the distance. To the quick looks. To the way his pinky would sometimes graze mine on the inside of his pocket when the cameras were around.

But this? This red carpet, the flashing lights, the interviews happening just meters away?

This wasn’t the place I expected everything to change.

One second I was standing there, smiling for photos, thinking about how much longer I had to keep my posture perfect before my face fell off — and the next, I felt a hand on my arm. Firm. Familiar.

And then… he kissed me.

He kissed me.

Not a half-second, nervous, hide it in the background kiss. No, this was Arthur Leclerc kissing me in front of the world.

I froze for a split second, because how could I not? And then I kissed him back, right there under the strobe of paparazzi flashes and a dozen open jaws.

When we finally pulled apart, I could hear Charles somewhere behind us — loud and French and absolutely delighted.

“C’est pas trop tôt!”

Oscar, meanwhile, was standing five feet away recording the entire thing on his phone like a proud twin, grinning so wide I thought his face might split in two.

Arthur just looked at me, his hand still in mine, and said quietly — only for me.

“No more hiding. Thank you for waiting for me.”

And that was it. No PR-approved post, no cryptic caption. Just him. Choosing me. Out loud. With the whole damn world watching.

—

arthur_leclerc

liked by yn.piastri, charles_leclerc, nicolepiastri & 4,908,097 others.

arthur_leclerc : happy 5 years to the best thing to ever happen to me. i absolutely adore you.

—

yn.piastri : my loveeee🥹

liked by arthur_leclerc

nicolepiastri : my boys ❤️❤️

liked by arthur_leclerc and yn.piastri

username00 : so cute

username15 : awwww oml

charles_leclerc : happy anniversary you two! so happy for you❤️

liked by arthur_leclerc and yn.piastri

view 109,807 other comments.

—

yn.piastri

liked by hattiepiastri, lilyzneimer, oscarpiastri & 7,800,908 others.

yn.piastri : can’t believe it’s been 5 years with you. i love you more than anything

—

hattiepiastri : YAYYYY MY FAVORITE COUPLE!!❤️🫶🏻

liked by yn.piastri and arthur_leclerc

lilyzneimer : so happy my loves! happy anniversary to the best💘

liked by yn.piastri and arthur_leclerc

nicolepiastri : the CUTEST. love you both

liked by yn.piastri and arthur_leclerc

username8 : so so sweet

username15 : love this

username9 : omggg yessss

oscarpiastri : does being your twin automatically make me your best man??

liked by yn.piastri and arthur_leclerc

yn.piastri : yes, twin privileges are valid currently

—

🐡🌙🦋🦕🐋🐢🪲🌵🧚🏻

[wingfleur]

# — calling mark grayson "small."

got fried as fuck and this shit came to me like a prophecy. a dream. i know i have my to-do list, but it’s hard for me to write stuff i’m no longer in the exact headspace for. like, i need to wait until i can get into it enough to feel it the way i did when i first thought of it. anyways, this is set in a universe that’s pretty canon-compliant: mark and amber broke up, but he hasn’t dropped out of college (yet) or ended up with eve. you also have no clue he’s invincible, just that he’s had a glow up and your cute, dorky friend from high school is now fine as shit. i also listened to “party favors” by leon thomas and big sean the entire time i worked on this.

lastly, i'd like to give a humongous shoutout to @omniphilic for beta-reading this monster for me! much love, sunshine, and godspeed, my children. enjoy! | wc: 7.9k words.

cw: nsfw mdni (18+), afab!reader, a lot of porn with a lot of plot, light angst, confessions, banter, friends to lovers, mentions of amber (i love you girl but it’s so easy to use you as a plot device </3), oral sex (f!recieving), explicit sex (p in v), missionary, squirting, dirty talk, praise, soft!dom mark, consider this my apology for the hurt/very little comfort v!card mark x reader fic <3

thinking about you joking around with mark grayson and calling him… small. you know where.

it sounds like such a silly scenario, but walk w/ me: you and mark have an… odd friendship. looking back on it, you two were an unlikelier pair than winning the lottery. you’re from completely different worlds– you were more on the straight and narrow: the academic side of things. all you did was bust your ass, and you had plenty to show for it– friends, awards, this air of recognition that followed you from classroom to classroom.

and mark? well, he fell more into the category of incredibly average. average grades, average social life, even an average reputation amongst the student body– the kind that makes you easy to remember and always gets you labeled as a “pretty cool guy,” but keeps you out of any real trouble. maybe that’s part of his charm– the fact that everything about him is initially so unassuming, so run of the mill that you don’t even think twice. not until you start to get to know him.

there’s plenty that sticks out once you get to know him.

then, somehow, at the start of your senior year, you two ended up partnered together for a project in the same upper-level english class. y’know, the college freshman one everyone takes because it’s a cheap credit, regardless of if they’re going to harvard to study law, or to the local community college to save a bit of money. neither of you had many expectations, but you and mark became fast friends. mark’s awkward charm grew on you, and he already had a decent opinion of you from seeing you around, but finally being in a situation where he could talk to you and not feel like a nuisance only made him think of you more highly than before. you were cool as shit; he has no idea how you two hadn’t spoken sooner.

but it’s no surprise that you two absolutely nailed the project. with your smarts and mark’s willingness to learn, the grade on it ended up being so good that it made you jump into mark’s arms out of pure excitement. mark caught you effortlessly, spinning you around and giggling alongside you without a second thought. the intimacy of such a reaction didn’t dawn on you two until long after he set you down, you grinning giddily in his face, while he could do nothing but grin back.

that’s how you ended up here– lying in mark’s bed, long after graduation, and visiting home from campus on a long weekend. you’re wearing one of his t-shirts and reading one of his copies of seance dog as he works on a paper. when you found out you two would be attending the same university, you were more than stoked. mark was stoked too, but he was so sure you could’ve gotten into one of chicago’s finest, or, better yet, move away from illinois entirely, rather than attend upstate university. he gave you a hesitant look when you said you were more than content with your choice, saying that a degree is a degree no matter where you went and that as long as you could be with mark, it would be worth it. deep down, though, mark swore something bloomed in his chest that day. he doesn’t really know what that feeling was– is, to be more accurate, because he still feels it sometimes– but that’s the least of his worries. 

his main worry is getting this paper in by 11:59 pm tonight. 

and just like that, the rhythmic clacking of mark’s fingers against the keyboard fills the silence and leaves you to bask in this comforting sensation of warmth. you’re so relaxed that you can’t bring yourself to move. not that you would have wanted to, anyway.

it’s peaceful. so, of course, you have to ruin it. 

“you ever want to fuck a cartoon character?” you suddenly say, the copy of seance dog in your hand and your foot crossed over your knee. you hear the way mark’s typing pauses for a moment, and imagining his reaction forces you to bite back a snicker. a pregnant silence fills the room before the typing begins again, just as rhythmic and hypnotic as before.

“i know you’re not saying that about seance dog,” mark finally quips back, his voice dripping with an absurd amount of mirth. you can hear his smile in his voice– you always can, because mark rarely doesn’t smile. it’s one of your favorite things about him.

you can’t help but take the bait.

“you think i could be?” you ask, tone scandalized and brows raised. neither of you move to face each other just yet– you don’t need to. you can tell exactly what face mark’s making from the sound of his voice, and mark can do the same for you. it’s how he knows that you’ve stopped biting back that smug smile of yours– the one that creeps across your face when you’re clearly up to something, but he doesn’t know what. you’re a troublemaker; it’s one of his favorite things about you.

“yeah,” he replies without missing a beat, “i clearly know nothing about you. i was once dumb enough to think you were intimidating.”

“i’m still intimidating!”

“yeah, maybe on occasion,” mark teases, his typing ceasing completely so that he can spin around in his chair. he leans against it with his head tossed back and his arms on the armrests, eying you gleefully as you put the comic face down on the bed. “most of the time i forget because you’re too busy saying shit that’s uncomfortably close to ‘i wanna fuck seance dog.’”

“eat shit and die, mark.”

“i don’t wanna.”

“then shut the fuck up and answer the question!”

“fine, fine!” mark laughs and lifts his hands up lazily off the chair in mock-surrender. “‘course i’ve wanted to fuck a cartoon character. who hasn’t? i’m not a nun.”

something flashes in your eyes, and you shift to lean forward towards where mark’s sitting, propping up on your elbows on the bed. you grin mischievously; it’s clear you’re up to nothing remotely good. 

“who?” you ask.

mark replies immediately. “koriand’r.”

“wha– from the titans?”

“no, from the avengers. yes, from the titans. who else would i be talking about?”

“alright, down, boy,” you say amusedly, making mark roll his eyes. “i was just checking. but you obviously can’t handle that.”

mark raises an eyebrow. “says who?”

“uhh, says me?"

the two of you are still for a moment, and you start to fear you said something wrong until you see mark’s eyes darken in that telltale way they do when he starts to feel challenged. then, as if that wasn’t enough to give you goosebumps, he does that stupid, mindless thing he does with his tongue, where he runs it along the inside of his cheek. your breath stills in your chest when mark pushes up off the back of his chair and leans forward towards where you lie on the bed, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped between his thighs. 

it’s hard to keep your gaze from dropping to the veins in his hands.

“oh yeah?” mark asks incredulously, tilting his head. you were joking about being the intimidating one earlier, but the real intimidator is mark. when he gets serious, you swear you can feel something in the air shift. maybe that’s why it feels like the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up right now.

“why not?”

the question, in its simple nature, catches you off guard, and in a brief moment of confusion, you tilt your head. “why not what?” “why couldn’t i handle her?”

you stare at mark as if he’s joking, but instead of him laughing and waving you off, mark stares back at you expectantly, brow arched and lips quirked up at the corners. it’s like he wants to smile, but he can’t. won’t. 

this dickhead must have a death wish.

“what do you mean ‘why couldn’t you handle her?’” you say casually– like what you’re saying is most obvious thing in the world. “it’s koriand’r, mark. she’d chew you up and spit you out before you even had time to undo your belt.”

you swipe up your copy of seance dog and busy yourself with trying to find where on the page you last left off. honestly, it doesn’t matter where you start reading. you’re willing to do anything to help get your mind off the weight of mark’s eyes boring into you.

“besides,” you huff, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, “koriand’r has standards, and you probably have a small dick, anyway.”

the second those words leave your mouth, the room falls deathly silent, and you swear it’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room. you fall still where you’re at, hoping that somehow, someway, you not moving will make mark want to kill you less. you really don’t know what possessed you to say that– it was a poor attempt at deflection, considering the growing amount of tension you began feeling in that room– but you don’t mean it. didn’t mean it. not one bit. 

you’re doing mental gymnastics to figure out how you can take it back without sounding like a total loser before mark starts laughing, and the joyous and boisterous sound gives you pause.

he couldn’t have found that funny… could he? 

okay, yeah, after a little bit of consideration, he very well could have. this is mark grayson, you’re talking about– not one of the insecure guys you were used to dealing with, who were more likely to blow a blood vessel than a load at the idea of being perceived as unmanly. mark’s the type of guy to wear one of your crop tops because he knows you’ll whine about him stretching them out, or wear a maid dress as a punishment for losing a bet, masking his embarrassment with quips about how good his legs look. you also know mark enough to know he’s not a virgin, nor is he a prude, but not well enough to know intimate details about his sex life. sure, jokes are fine, but a play-by-play on how he screwed his ex feels… invasive. beyond the scope of your shared comfort. it was just something you never thought of asking.

well, more like something you could never bring yourself to ask.

you set the comic back down on the bed just in time to watch mark wipe some tears from his eyes, twisting around to face his laptop with a smile on his face. he resumes typing like nothing happened, like you didn’t just obliterate his manhood and leave it in pieces for him to pick up off the floor. it’s hard not to gawk at him in disbelief, blinking rapidly for a few moments before speaking.

“that– didn’t upset you?” you say tentatively, voice a lot meeker than initially intended. mark huffs out a laugh and spins around, hands back to resting on the armrests.

“why would it have?” he says bemusedly, still smiling from before. “we joke like that all the time. honestly, i’m surprised you hadn’t said something like that sooner.”

you can only stare at him blankly, brows knitting in confusion as mark continues to regard you patiently. then, you sit up, pushing up off your elbows to swing around and upright, one leg dangling off the bed while the other stays bent in front of you. 

“why didn’t you get mad?”

mark pauses, eyes narrowing as he tilts his head. “...is this a trick question? why would i? you were joking around.”

“most guys would’ve gotten mad about me saying something like that.”

“yeah, well, most guys aren’t exactly confident about what they’re packing downstairs.”

“and you are?”

mark’s lips part for a second, but no words come out. he quickly shuts his mouth and stares at you, but you stare back, ignoring the way your cheeks start to burn with red-hot embarrassment. 

“well, yeah,” mark finally says, eyes flickering nervously to the side. he looks everywhere– the alarm clock on the dresser, his posters on the wall, everywhere but where you are, sitting prettily on his bed– but his eyes have no choice but to finally lock back onto yours, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. “‘course i’m confident about it.”

“...‘cause it’s not small.”

he pauses. “yeah. ‘cause it’s not small.”

your brain short-circuits right then and there.

you aren’t sure why you’re so surprised by this. it wouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to arrive to this conclusion. you were around when mark started dating his ex-girlfriend, amber– around long enough to have seen the exact point in their relationship where they shed the last of their inhibitions and began interacting with each other much more comfortably. you were also around long enough to watch mark come into himself– to lose that dweebish, unsure aura around him and become more confident. muscled. tall. even if he was still pretty dorky most of the time.

perhaps that’s when the thoughts started: when you started to think of mark less as a boy, and more as a man. when you began wondering things about him that you desperately wanted to know, but were much too scared to ask.

at least you have an answer to one of them now.

“hey,” mark says suddenly, voice sharp enough to cut through all your overthinking and analyses. mark’s closer to you now– right next to you, actually, the scent of his cologne filling your nose– and he has your hand in his, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back. “you okay? should i not have said that–?”

you frantically shake your head. “no–! i mean, yes– god, fuck, no, mark, it’s okay.” you take a deep breath, letting your eyes fall shut. “i’m the one who asked. you just answered.”

you take in a shaky breath and let your eyes flutter open to find mark watching you adeptly, his eyes trained on your face. the expression he’s wearing is one of worry, those dark brows of his pinched in the middle to form a wrinkle you so desperately want to smooth out with your thumb. his plush, pink lips are parted, and in an attempt not to stare at them, your eyes fall to the floor, but not before momentarily catching on how his biceps strain against his sleeves.

for fuck’s sake, this is not the time to be focusing on how attractive you find your best friend.

“i wanted to know,” you finally say, voice soft and a little frayed around the edges. your eyes flutter shut again– something to give you a bit of extra courage to say what you need to say, and not cave under the pressure of your nerves. “i wanted the answer to that question. it sounds weird as fuck, and i totally understand if you want me to leave and never show my face around here again, but i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want to know.”

you open your eyes again to find mark still staring at you, eyes jumping all over your face, while sporting an unreadable expression. you find yourself swallowing hard as you steel yourself for what you want to say next, adjusting to sit and face mark completely. “i wanna know a lot of things about you, actually. and none of them are all that appropriate for two people who are supposed to be ‘best friends.’”

it’s mark’s turn to short-circuit.

“w–what?” mark stutters out, staring at you with a dumbfounded expression as his eyebrows shoot up in suprise. his mouth falls agape, opening and closing fruitlessly as he tries to figure out what to say. “i– jesus christ, i don’t think you understand what you’re saying–”

“i know exactly what i’m saying.” your interjection is quick and firm, your expression void of your previous nervousness and now completely serious. “and you know it. don’t insult me like that again.”

mark’s protests die in his throat.

“i want to know you,” you start. “honestly. intimately. fuck, to be honest, i want to see you– naked, in my bed– but i didn’t wanna make things weird, and then you had that whole thing with amber, and then i thought you were gonna date eve, so i kinda just kept it to myself, but–”

“you can know me.” 

you freeze. “what–?”

“you can know me,” mark says again, his hand squeezing the one that he has wrapped in his. “you can know me. and see me. and i’ll answer every other question you’ve had about me, ‘cause i wanna know you too.”

you can’t help but stare at mark , absolutely and completely dumbfounded. if he notices, he doesn’t judge. doesn’t acknowledge it at all, actually. he just continues to steamroll ahead.

“god, fuck, i really wanna know you like that, too,” he sighs. “always have– like, all the way back in high school. i’d see you in the halls with your friends and think, ‘man, they’re hot,’ then move on with my life because i thought there was no way i’d ever have a chance with you. then, we got partnered up for that project, and i learned that you were so much cooler and more approachable than i had ever imagined, and i wanted to make a move on you so bad, but i still thought there was no way you could ever like me. william can testify to this– i was talking his ear off about you 24/7. still do. he is seriously getting sick of it.” 

the way mark talks is fast– so much so that all his words bleed together, voice full of excitement and sincerity. it make your eyes sting. after he finishes, his quick way of talking tapers off into a hefty bout of silence, his beautiful brown eyes flickering down to your joint hands. 

“and then came amber.”

the quiet that follows drapes over the two of you like a blanket, heavy with the weight of everything you two are thinking, but ultimately remains unsaid. the fact of the matter is that it doesn’t need to be said. you and mark just… know– understand– that amber was the first person, aside from you, to treat mark as less of an expendable, and more like somebody worth knowing. she took the opportunities you were too afraid to– penciled her name in where yours was meant to be and slipped right on into that “partner” position, wearing it as if it was custom-fitted. it may as well have been, because it sure looked good on her. 

he looked good on her. that’s why you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad.

“i never would’ve gone out with her if i knew you wanted me even half as much as i wanted you,” mark says quietly, reaching up to rub a tear from your cheek that you didn’t even know you shed. “but i didn’t. and we dated, and slept with her, and i loved her, but i feel all of that for you too, y’know.” he cradles your face delicately as he climbs up onto his knees, his movements slow, as if moving too quickly would scare you off. moving too quickly would remind you that this is real; remind you that you probably shouldn’t be doing this, causing you to hop off the bed and run down the hall, flying down the stairs, past debbie, and out the front door.

but you don’t have to worry. never have, actually, because the way mark treats you is careful. cautious. he’s kneeling on the bed and easing you onto your back with such rapt attention that it makes your cheeks warm, head turning to the side to shield it from him before he turns your head right back to where it was.

“i want you to ask your questions,” mark says slowly, large hands pushing your knees apart to make room for him between your legs. you can’t help but stare at him helplessly, any and all words dying in your throat, but mark moves with a confidence that makes it clear you don’t need to speak. not when he’s hovering over you like this. 

“i want to answer your questions, and i want you to do the same for mine. ‘cause i’ve thought about you. a lot. and not all of it was decent. actually, most of it probably wasn’t.”

mark lets himself laugh softly at the admission, but you can only look up at him in awe, the muscles of your brows twitching from the urge to knit in confusion. mark’s eyes catch this, and he reaches down to smooth his thumb over the spot right between your eyebrows– the same way you wanted to do for him earlier.

“so tell me that this is okay.”

mark trails his fingers across your skin, skimming over your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, and all the way down your arm until reaching your hand. he tangles your fingers together and brings your wrist to his lips, a soft kiss being pressed to your pulse, which makes your heart stutter in your chest. mark doesn’t tease you for how vulnerably you stare at him, or for how red his actions make your face. he only looks down at you with a soft smile, peppering kisses to your palm.

“holy shit, mark, this is more than okay.”

mark’s grin is blinding when you surge forward to kiss him.

the thing that surprises you most about it isn’t how good of a kisser mark is, or how nice it feels for his big hands to come up and cradle your jaw. it’s how easy all of this is– how uncomplicated it is to be making out with mark, how your lips slot together as if it’s always meant to be this way, how raw his groan is when you tangle your fingers into his hair and tug. he has you pressed against the bed in seconds, one hand slowly slipping beneath your t-shirt as the other squeezes at your outer thigh. you feel dizzy when your lips part and he ducks his head down into your neck, sucking bruises into the skin with a fervor that makes you squirm.

“i– fuck, mark, not where people can see–!”

“does it matter if it’s visible? ‘s not like you’re fucking anyone else right now besides me.”

you hit mark hard against his back, but it only makes him chuckle, sitting up to look at you with messy hair and blown pupils. “what? you haven’t slept with anybody in a while, and you’re about to sleep with me. i didn’t say anything wrong.”

“how do you even know that, asshole?”

mark grins, sitting back on his haunches as he hooks the hem of your shirt on his index finger. he tugs it up enough to reveal your stomach. “‘cause you’re lying here in my bed, wearing my shirt, with me sitting between your legs. if i was the person you’ve been fucking, i’d definitely feel some type of way about that.”

you scoff, moving one of your legs to try and kick at mark’s chest. like the little shit he is, he catches it easily and presses a kiss to your ankle, setting it on one of his shoulders. “that doesn’t mean anything. i could have casual sex if i wanted to.”

“yeah,” mark agrees, both hands coming to smooth his shirt up the expanse of your body, “you could. if you wanted to. but you don’t, ‘cause you’re not like that.”

“bullshit.”

“is not. here, open your mouth for me.”

“wh–?”

“shut up and open it for a second, would you?”

you shoot mark a withering glare, but he just grins back, pushing your shirt up under your chin and offering the hem for you to bite down on.

“thank you,” he says gleefully, his words a little too airy and sing-songy for you to let slide. you try and kick him again, but he blocks your leg without much of a second thought, eyes laser focused on the sight of your tits in front of him.

“wow, you are so fucking pretty.”

the way he says it is so full of awe– so genuine– that it makes your mouth fall open. the t-shirt in your mouth gets stuck on your bottom lip in the process, and the sight makes mark chuckle, a boyish grin settling on his face. he reaches up to adjust it and pulls it back up so you can bite down on it again.

“i didn’t even say anything crazy yet,” he teases, laughing as you do your best to swear at him from around the fabric. mark ignores it to focus on the sight in front of him instead, though, fingers tracing up your rib cage before cupping the underside of each of your breasts.

your mind goes blank when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“oh, fuck,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed and into his mouth. the t-shirt slips from between your teeth again, and you can feel mark grin around where his tongue swirls around your skin, popping off to look at you and chastise you softly.

“jeez, you really suck at following instructions,” mark playfully says. “and did you forget that my mom is downstairs? i’ve had her knock on the door during sex before, and trust me, it does not help to sustain the mood.”

“god, you sound like such a dork. ‘it does not help to sustain–’”

mark cuts you off with a groan, fingers curling into the waistband of your shorts and panties. “shut up and lift your hips already.”

you giggle. “fine, fine.”

you plant your feet and lift your hips off the bed enough for mark to tug your clothes off, separating your shorts from your underwear so he can tuck the garment into his pocket. You look at him with a flustered expression, mouth dropping open in bewilderment, but mark simply sticks his tongue out at you and flings your shorts to the floor, panties nowhere in sight. you hardly have enough time to process him keeping them for himself before he’s wrapping his hands around your thighs and tugging them onto his shoulders, putting him face to face with your cunt and lifting your lower back completely off the bed.

you knew mark was strong, but you never thought of him using his strength like this.

mark holds you firmly as he busies himself with eating you out like a man starved. those big, brown doe eyes of his look down at you, sometimes lingering on the rise and fall of your chest, and sometimes taking in the sight of your knitted brows and parted lips, both your hands tangled in the pillow behind your head. his eyes do fall shut every once in a while as if he’s savoring the taste of you on his tongue, and he probably is, knowing mark, but you don’t have the wherewithal to tease him. not now, at least. not when he’s got his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking in these sporadic little bursts that make your stomach burn with molten need.

“oh, f-uck,” you gasp, voice cracking on the expletive. in your defense, it’s the only word you currently feel like you know how to say, but mark doesn’t laugh or tease you for it. he just presses a messy kiss to your clit, then slides his tongue down through your folds to circle your hole, slowly and messily pressing inside of you. he pumps it in and out for a few moments, as if he’s trying to fuck you with his tongue, then flattens the muscle and drags it back up to your clit to press into it firmly. you untangle your fingers from the sheets and reach up to swat at mark’s thigh, twisting and turning frantically in his hold.

“oh my fucking god, mark, let go!” your whines are urgent, thighs beginning to quiver on either side of mark’s head. his eyes flutter open enough to look at you through his long, thick lashes, but his firm grip on your waist doesn’t let up in the slightest. his arms tighten around you, keeping your pussy to his lips and your body off the bed as he continues to ravage you like it’s the one thing he was born to do. “mark! ‘m fuckin’ serious– i’m gonna squirt if you don’t let go of m– oh, fuck!”

you realize your warning is a bit late as you feel that knot tighten and snap in your belly, but it would’ve fallen on deaf ears regardless of whether you said it earlier or not. your cunt gushes all over mark’s nose, lips, and chin, soaking the top of his t-shirt and dribbling a bit down onto the bed below. you’d think he’d have a concern of drowning, but mark’s tongue keeps moving as you cum, legs squeezing against his ears so tight that you’re sure he can hear absolutely nothing but his own heartbeat. you know you sure can’t– all you can hear is the distant sound of your own voice, and the way your breathing stutters in your chest, a series of tremors wracking your body so brutally that you’d liken them to an earthquake. 

“shit,” you gasp softly, limbs tingling once they regain sensation. you wriggle in mark’s grasp and he pulls back from your pussy with a pop!, lowering your hips down to the bed as he runs his tongue along his lower lip.

“you said you were about to squirt as if that was going to deter me,” mark says breathlessly, a soft laugh punctuating his sentence. his face is covered with your slick all over his lips and chin, the sun from the window catching on it in a way that makes it glisten. you’re embarrassed by his nonchalance, but it’s hard to be mad when mark looks this good. you did this to him– made his perfectly slicked-back hair disheveled, and soaked his lower face and chest in your cum. normally, you would reply to his quip right away, but right now, you don’t. you’re much too focused on watching how mark leans down to reach behind his head and grab at his shirt, shucking it off in one smooth motion to join your discarded shorts on the floor.

“it was supposed to,” you finally say, voice sounding just as breathless as mark’s. his lips quirk up at the corners, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. instead, he leans over you to open his bedside drawer, and you take that as an opportunity to continue. “didn’t realize i was sleeping with superfreak, over here.”

mark snorts. “i’m just a guy who prioritizes my partner’s pleasure over mine.”

“that’s a roundabout way to say you like to eat pussy. and ass. oh god, mark, you don’t eat ass, do you?”

mark wiggles his eyebrows in response, and you look at him with such a horrified expression that a giggle can’t help but escape from his chest. he shuts the bedside table with a soft thud and leans back over you with a strip of two condoms hanging from his mouth. your brows shoot up at the sight, but mark doesn’t see it. he’s much too focused on pushing his sweatpants and boxers down to his thighs, cock slapping lightly against his abs.

oh. you always knew mark looked good, but this? this is something else entirely.

“you’re staring,” mark says wryly, tearing one of the condoms from the strip, then opening up the wrapper with his teeth. you watch as he pinches the tip and rolls the condom onto himself with a level of precision that screams of practice. if you hadn’t just cum your brains out, you might’ve found yourself feeling a little bit jealous.

“‘course i am,” you say shamelessly, making mark bark out a startled laugh. “you said it was big, not that you were carrying a weapon. now here you are, looking like asian adonis with my jizz on your face, rolling a condom on with the ease of a common whore. not to mention that you grabbed two of them.”

a giddy smile spreads across mark’s face in reply, but it’s not one of his usual ones: it’s bashful. it’s the kind of smile where he bites his lip to force it down, but it doesn’t work, so his bottom lip slowly unfurls from between his teeth. your ears burn bright red at the sight, but mark doesn’t comment on it. mark’s never been good at multitasking, and he’s much too focused on tossing the unopened condom to the side, then tugging you against him by your thighs.

“we don’t have to use them both,” mark says softly, the sweetness of his smile bleeding into his voice. it’s a bit jarring for him to be acting so adorably, like he’s not running his cock along the seam of your folds. the tip catches on your clit every so often, making your breath catch in the back of your throat.

“i like how that’s what you chose to comment on.” 

he shrugs. “didn’t have much else to say.”

“you’re a dog, you know that, mark?”

mark grins at you wickedly, leaning down to lick a stripe up your cheek.

“mm, yeah. ‘m guilty as charged.”

and just like that, he sinks into you, bottoming out in one smooth thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. your eyes screw shut, but you latch onto him immediately, hand shooting out in search of his. he takes it wordlessly, bringing your hand up so he can kiss your knuckles.

“you okay?” he asks tenderly, lips pressed to the back of your hand. you open your eyes, tears pricking at the corners, then nod slowly as a deep breath leaves your nose.

“yeah,” you say shakily. “just been a while. warn me next time.”

mark nods, doing his best not to get caught up on the fact that you want there to be a next time. “sure,” he answers. “sorry. here– put your legs on my shoulder.”

you lift your legs for mark to take, and he settles both of your feet on one of his shoulders like they belong there. then, he shifts forward, shuffling up so that his thighs bracket your hips, which slots him deeper into you than he has any business being.

it makes you feel crazy. you fucking love it.

once mark feels stable in his position, and any remnants of discomfort bleed from your expression, he starts rocking his hips in and out of you at a pace too quick to be languid, but too slow to be considered harsh. whatever rhythm he’s fallen into, it feels good. you’re clawing at the sheets at your sides and behind your head like a madman, that copy of seance dog he lent you long forgotten on the floor, along with everything else you two have taken off. 

“does this answer one of your questions?” mark asks lowly, eyes half-lidded and jaw tight. he’s got your legs pressed to his chest with one hand, the other splayed across your stomach to hold you in place. you can tell it’s not that simple, though; the firmness with which he presses down against your stomach is as if he’s feeling for something, and the realization makes you clench, cunt squelching lewdly around his cock inside you. “did you wonder how i fuck? if i liked it fast? or did it slow?”

in your day-to-day conversations, mark doesn’t swear all that often– at least, not compared to you– but the mouth he’s got on him in bed is a surprise that makes you flush down to your chest. you look up to see mark gazing at you with eyes that are almost black, a bright blush fanning across his freckled cheeks and nose. when he sees you struggle to answer, the gears clearly turning, but no words coming out, he grips your legs tighter and quickens the snap of his hips. mark’s lips fall open with a breathy moan as he watches the way your eyes roll back, and his abdomen clenches with the need to keep his own pleasure at bay. “c’mon, baby. tell me. tell me how you want it, ‘n’ i promise i’ll do whatever you say.”

“i– god, fuck, mark, yes, i wondered how you fucked!” your reply comes out breathy, whiny, and and rushed– a result of you making an actual effort to focus so it didn’t come out as a jumbled, inaudible mess. “i w-wondered if you’d treat me like glass, or fuck me like i had no self-respect. i don’t care what you do right now– swear t’god i don’t– ‘cause i just wanna cum. just don’t fucking stop.”

mark huffs out a laugh at how desperate you sound, lips quirking up in a lopsided smile that shows off the cute little fangs he has in the corners of his mouth. he turns his head to kiss one of your ankles, then takes one to put it on the opposite side, making it so you have one leg on each of his shoulders. large, calloused hands slide down your legs and smooth over your thighs before taking your hands into each of his. you’re about to ask what he’s doing, but there’s no time for the words to come out. he’s already gripping both your wrists and tuging you forward, forcing your ass to smack against his thighs with every brutal snap of his hips.

your brain is about to melt out of your fucking ears.

“did you touch yourself?” mark’s asks breathlessly, dark eyes focused on your face. you try desperately to free your hands from his grasp, but your attempts are pathetically uncoordinated. the way his cock is rearranging your guts makes it impossibly difficult to focus. but despite your lack of success, your general writhing makes mark tut at you disapprovingly, and he leans forward to keep you in place by resting a fraction of his body weight on your chest. “quit trying to run ‘n’ tell me. did you touch yourself thinking about me fucking you? imagining how it would be?”

mark leans down to lick a stripe up the side of your neck, voice dropping to a filthy, sultry whisper. “‘cause i did. thought about this all the time, what you’d feel like around me. it’s so much fuckin’ better than i imagined.”

you nod your head frantically, hands clenched into fists, and your nails dig so roughly into your palms that it’s a miracle it hasn’t drawn blood. mark isn’t completely satisfied with your response, but he takes it for what it is and releases both of your wrists in favor of grabbing onto your hips.

“if you touched yourself while thinking of me, then show me. play with it for me, hm?”

you don’t need much more coaxing than that.

your fingers fly to your clit at lightening speed, middle and ring finger rubbing in quick, tight circles that mark finds absolutely hypnotizing. your other hand comes up to palm at your breasts, pinching and tweaking at your nipples in a way that makes you whine. mark damn near growls at the sight, a string of expletives you’ve never heard from him before being let out into the ether as he doubles his efforts to fuck you into the mattress.

“open your eyes,” mark demands, his words oozing with a tone you’re very much not used to being addressed with. his voice is low, gravely, and deeply affected by the way your walls squeeze around him, and you find that you quite like having him like this: wrapped around your finger, barely hanging on, lost in everything pertaining to you. the sentiment is definitely shared, because as you force your eyes open, you feel your features pinch the way they do when you’re trying not to cry. it’s nothing bad– far from it, actually. it’s just that mark is fucking you so good that you feel like you’re losing your mind, and the pleasure is so mindboggling that it makes you wanna sob. 

“there y’go, baby,” mark sighs, “just keep lookin’ at me. i wanna see your face when you cum.”

his honest admission shoots straight through you and right to your core, pussy clenching around him tightly, your clit throbbing beneath your fingers. mark moans low and long at the feeling, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows hard.

“fuck, i like when y’do that– when you like what i say and you get all tight around me. just– keep touching yourself, pretty. look at me and let it happen.”

all you can do is nod helplessly. mark ducks down to press a kiss to your cheek, fingers pressing what will definitely be bruises tomorrow morning into the skin of your hips. his cock splits you open in a mindbending way, your fingers flicking at your clit so frantically that your hand has become nothing but a blur. 

then, the bubble bursts. your orgasm hits you like a truck, your head flying back, and the muscles in your jaw and neck pulling taut. the same goes for your legs– your knees lock up and your thighs pull tight, shaking with violent tremors as you gush again, this time, around mark’s cock. you do your best to keep your eyes open as you cum, but it’s hard. from what you can see, though, mark’s mouth drops open and his eyes flash with something bright– yellow, even– as he takes in the sight of you falling apart. whatever it is, you don’t give it much thought. your brain is much too fried to be trusting everything you see right now.

“you’re a fucking dream like this,” mark mutters, his tone oozing with awe and disbelief. dutifully, he fucks you through your second orgasm– all the squirming, pulsing, and wetness that’s stained his sheets twice in one night– and holds your unfocused gaze all throughout it before he feels you coming down and abruptly pulls out. your twitching legs drop unceremoniously to the bed, and mark swings his thighs over you to settle over your chest, fingers peeling off the condom and tossing it lamely to the side. all you can see past your wet lashes and teary eyes is mark’s fist moving in an urgent blur before he cums all over your chest, the orgasm hitting him so hard that he has to grip the headboard to stabilize himself. his super strength causes it to splinter just slightly as his legs shake, so much so that he can hardly hold himself up.

his cum paints your tits in hot, thick, pearly white strands, and mark clambers up from over you to lay down on the other side of the bed. you find it unfair, the way that he’s panting and shaking much less than you, but you don’t comment. you just stare up at the ceiling, the sound of your breathing filling the air.

“i hope that was good,” mark says earnestly, rolling lazily onto his side to look at you. you take another deep, grounding breath, then turn your head to look at him. your arm comes out too weakly to swat at his chest.

“there’s no way you just asked me that when your cum is drying on my chest.”

mark stares at you for a moment, then busts out into a fit of laughter, reaching behind his head to take the pillow so he can drop it casually onto your face. you can’t help but laugh too, arms coming up to shield yourself from the pillow, and you toss it back to mark where he catches it, then tucks it back under his head. “fuck me for trying to make sure you’re okay, i guess,” he says dramatically, rolling his eyes.

you flip over onto your stomach and bunch the pillow up under your chin, careful to ignore the wet parts of your chest as you widely grin and quip back. “i just did.”

“more like the other way around. this was me fucking you. into the mattress, might i add.” mark grins mischievously and reaches out to place his hand on your lower back, smoothing over your ass before dipping between your legs to find your folds. he trails his fingers up and down your wet and puffy slit, tongue darting out to wet his lips when he feels you shiver in reply. “but we can go again with you on top if you wanna fuck me. not like i’d ever say no to that. plus, it’d answer one of my questions.”

you’re part your lips to reply, but the sound of feet padding up the stairs, partnered with a soft call of mark’s name, makes you both freeze exactly where you’re at. you look at each other in panic, then scramble to get rid of the proof of what you two just did. mark leaps off the bed and onto his feet with impressive athleticism, tossing you your discarded copy of seance dog that you catch effortlessly with one hand. you tug your t-shirt down over your chest, ignoring the fact that there’s still cum on it you’ve hardly wiped off, and he busies himself with pulling his pants back up and slipping his t-shirt on. the fact that it’s still damp around the collar doesn’t matter– not when there’s much more incriminating evidence like his used condom on the bed, alongside the wrapper and the new one he was about to use on you again ten seconds ago.

you barely manage to get under the covers to hide your lower half by the time debbie opens the door, your shorts haphazardly kicked under the bed, and your panties in mark’s pocket. you double-check to make sure your comic isn’t upside down and open it to a random page, holding it as inconspicuously as possible, right in front of your face. mark’s hands are stuffed into his pants, the condoms and the wrapper fisted tightly in his hands.

“hey, you two,” debbie says sweetly, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you. you swear, even if you two didn’t look suspicious as hell, debbie would still be looking at you two like she knows you did something wrong. “just came to let you know that dinner is ready. and that you two shouldn’t stay up too late tonight. i’m driving you two back to campus early, so i can get to work on time.”

mark smiles tightly. “okay, mom, thanks,” he says, pulling a hand out of his pocket to wave at her goodbye. debbie eyes him amusedly, taking in both of your disheveled appearances one more time before nodding and moving to close the door.

“oh, and mark? it’s been a long time coming, so i don’t mind if you two are having sex, as long as it’s safe and i don’t have to worry about becoming a grandma.”

the color drains from both of your faces, but debbie only laughs, a smile as sweet as her son’s spreading across her face. “but next time, if you’re gonna try and hide it, make sure the panties are tucked all the way into your pocket. i’m not judging what you’re into, but it’s kind of a dead giveaway when blue lace is half hanging out of your sweatpants.”

# — navigation

[starryeyed-apple]

everything you need

summary: Due to your period pain, you have to cancel a date with Xavier. He stays by your side and comforts you throughout it.

★pairing: Xavier x Reader ★wc: 2.8k ★content: Reader has menstrual cycles (no mention of gender), description of periods (cramps, nausea, brief mentions of blood, taking medication for pain/nausea). Hurt/comfort, very soft, teeny bit of angst. Xavier takes care of Reader during their period, is generally supportive and the sweetest boyfriend. Xavier calls Reader Starlight, sweetheart, baby. Xavier's phone nickname is bunbun bf. References to Horizon’s Pulse. ★a/n: I finally played Horizon’s Pulse and cried. And then I wanted to write my first Xavier fic as a little follow-up to it, but it turned into a totally self-indulgent period comfort fic? But I love it, and hope it's comforting to others too <3 (I haven't played Feverish Attempts yet, so there's no spoilers for that in here) masterlist ★ read on ao3

Periods had always knocked you the fuck out.

It was something you had to gently make Xavier aware of once your relationship really progressed into something serious. Something that meant nights spent at each other’s place, which could bring with it issues if his apartment wasn't well-stocked for your monthly needs.

He hadn’t even blinked when you first brought it up. He only asked you what types of products you preferred, nodding intently when you listed off your favorite brands along with the other necessities—painkillers (most of his were unopened and expired, as he neglected his occasional injures and “never got sick”) and a heating pad (again, old, as in it's like he’s had the thing for decades old, just like the one Gran had back home).

“I can get bad cramps,” you reply, a bit awkwardly as you notice his brows furrow, light eyelashes fluttering with a look of concern. You weren’t embarrassed—you just didn’t want to worry him. You were used to it, but he wasn’t. “Like, really bad. Back in high school I’d miss classes, or full days. All I could do was lie down in the bathroom until it passed.”

“Does it still get that bad?” His voice is soft, his eyes pained. There’s something that flashes through them too quick, but the only evidence of the fleeting, haunted expression is how he reaches for your hand and holds on tight.

You hesitate. “Sometimes.”

He stares down at your hand in his, tracing his thumb down over your veins. It rubs over your pulse point, and he’s so quiet for a moment, you wonder if he’s counting the beats.

Why, though, you’re not sure.

“I won’t die from cramps, Xavier,” you laugh, and his face pinches again, turning downwards until all you can see is his fluffy hair.

He presses a kiss to where your heart races underneath his lips, then peers up at you through his long, elegant lashes. You stroke your free hand over his cheek, gazing into those pools of serene blue. He nuzzles into your hand, getting as lost in you.

“Promise?” he mumbles quietly, and you fail to stifle a snort at his cuteness.

“Mhm.” You nod, giggling again at his petulant pout towards your noncommittal answer. “Promise.”

He walks to your favorite convenience store a few blocks away that night, picking out all the things you’d listed, and more. There’s electrolyte drinks and little cookies, and three heating pads in the bags he brings back. They all have different cloths and settings, and he insists you try out each to decide which one helps best.

A couple mornings later is when the cramps hit. It’s a lighter period, pain and flow wise, and you’re grateful he doesn’t have to see it so bad that first time.

Xavier wasn’t exactly the type to hover—even if he got clingy, he knew you were capable. But maybe that was the reason why your menstrual cycle always seemed to stress him out a bit. He just didn’t seem to like the idea of your own body taking you out of commission.

Curled around your favorite heating pad on the couch—one with a cute little star pattern on the fabric, you were happy at the coincidence since you liked its heat settings the most—you sip at one of the juice boxes he’d gotten for you, while he gently massages your feet in his lap.

For a moment, he seems to hesitate. Then he asks, softly, the words almost lost in the calm air of the moment, “Do you want me to track it?”

You blink, glancing at him. “Track it?”

“Yeah.” Xavier shifts, pressing his thumb into your heel in pleasant circles before meeting your eyes. “If that would help you be prepared for when it comes. Only if you’re comfortable with it, though.”

You smile, heart swelling with affection for this man who’d stumbled into your life—or maybe you’d stumbled into his.

Or maybe everything had been leading you to each other all along.

You’d agreed, and that was that. Xavier tracked your cycle alongside you with your consent, gently reminding you of its possible effects on you when your emotions were too high, and realization may slip.

Somehow, those moments didn’t frustrate you. Maybe it was just the gentle ease with which Xavier spoke, his boundless patience and genuine grace, especially when it came to you.

So you weren’t really sure how you both managed to miss it this time.

You were glad it had fallen on the weekend, at least, so you didn’t have to either waste a sick day or be forced to tough it out, going into fighting Wanderers while already bleeding. But you were also pissed as hell that your cramps kept you bedridden for both your days off.

Worse, you had to cancel your day trip with Xavier out to a popular new hotpot restaurant on the farther edge of the city.

Even worse than that, he knew right away that something was wrong.

Xavier was never one to be upset over canceled plans. He was just as happy curling up on the couch with you, enjoying some favorite takeout with a cheesy movie on in the background.

You usually weren’t so upset at waylaid plans either. You could be as much a homebody as your cozy boyfriend, especially considering just how cozy he could be when you were all snuggled up.

(Recently, you even had to make a rule to keep him in another room as you were getting ready to go out, so you wouldn’t be pulled into a cuddle session that ended up in missed dinner reservations.)

But this date, you had been looking forward to. You’d set reminders on both your phones, and a heart nestled next to a star on the old-fashioned calendar hanging in his living room.

The food had sounded so good for the week leading up to it, and maybe that strong craving should’ve been a hint to check your own calendar system, in hindsight. But there hadn't been a mark for it on his, either. It had slipped both your minds this time around.

The pinching, throbbing pain in your abdomen waking you up on the Saturday you were set for your date let you know the gravity of your mistake.

“Fuck,” you hissed, clutching at your stomach as you pulled yourself up and into the bathroom, doubled over from the added nausea the pain brought with it.

It was a good thing you were sleeping in your own apartments that morning. Better not to scare Xavier with the potential of blood on his spotless white sheets or, worse, give him a heart attack if he woke up to find you curled up on the bathroom floor.

You don’t know how long your forehead was pressed to the cool tile, until you were able to pull yourself up enough to force down some pain reliever from the medicine cabinet. Stumbling back to bed with a cold washcloth pressed over the back of your neck, you grabbed for your phone to send him a quick text.

You blinked in surprise to find he had already sent two messages about an hour ago.

Morning, Starlight. Can I come over early Can't wait to see U

Your phone pings again, and you rub your eyes.

bunbun bf poked you R U awake

You poise your fingers to type a reply, pondering your excuses, but stop when another message bubble pops up from him.

It says read. U feeling okay

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. How does he already know?

I'm okay. Hey, think we can do our hotpot date another day? Just feeling tired. I think yesterday's mission wore me out more than I realized.

Mid-typing another response, your phone pings again.

Liar I'm coming over now

You groan, wondering if you wanted to push back on this, before tossing your phone to the side.

Maybe he could grab your soda crackers from the kitchen. You were still nauseous, and you didn’t have the strength to go crawling for them right now.

What felt like only a few seconds later had Xavier knocking on your front door, even before he used his thumbprint to let himself in. You wonder if he teleported down here.

“Sweetheart?”

His footprints lead straight to your bedroom, and you hear his breath catch the moment he sees you from the doorway.

Now you really wonder if he teleported, because he’s by your side in an instant, hand pressed to your forehead, gently turning your face so he can see you.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is hushed, sweet and gentle as ever. But you hear the undercurrent of worry that rushes his words just a bit, even quicker with panic the more he talks. “Are you sick? Are you in pain? Did you get injured yesterday? I didn’t notice anything.”

You shake your head, and his assessment scans down your body. He gently nudges away the sheets curled around your sweaty, clammy skin.

“Oh, Starlight,” he whispers, rubbing his warm palms around where you clutch at your abdomen. “I’m sorry, I must’ve forgotten to note it down. Shit.”

You manage to arch an eyebrow. Sure, Xavier could have quite the dirty mouth on him when the mood struck—especially when a certain mood struck—but something about this felt especially frustrated. An irritation turned inwards.

“Hey,” you murmur, nudging his thigh with your knee once you get it free of the sheets. “Don’t be mad at yourself. It must’ve come early. Or late, who knows. It happens.”

He sighs, focusing back in on you. His eyes are big and caring, blond hair shining with a golden sheen in the morning light that peeks through your curtains.

“What can I do for you?”

You just about melt at that, smiling weakly up at him.

“Can you get my crackers?”

He’s nodding, already moving towards the door. “Nauseous? Do you have your—”

“No, I’m out,” you sigh, pinching your nose as you remember you’d put off refilling your anti nausea medication. “Can you check for—”

“Gatorade, yeah, if there isn’t any I’ll order some,” he calls softly from rustling around in the kitchen, a place where you’d usually dread Xavier spending time in.

You don’t need to ask to know he’ll pay for rushed delivery if there isn’t any of your favorite flavor in your fridge. You also don’t need to tell him you’ll pay him back for it, knowing he’ll frown deeper and deeper at you until you relent.

Unfortunately, it’s a period that knocks you out. You’re out of commission for most the day, and that general feeling of malaise lingers into night.

Xavier refuses to leave your side. It lets him see firsthand how much you droop the closer you get to when your dinner reservation was, now canceled. Like a flower without sunlight, curling in on itself to drop all its petals, one by one.

He rubs his hand down your back or massages across your abdomen when you want it, and pulls back to give you space when you don’t. He plays your favorite music on his phone when you sniffle in the silence, and continues to hum the songs when his phone runs out of battery.

Xavier doesn’t comment when you turn over, just silently sets his book aside to hold you when you curl up on his chest. He doesn’t complain when the warmth of the heating pad begins to sear between you, doesn’t pull back when your tears stain his favorite white hoodie.

“Are you sad?” He asks quietly when your crying begins to ease. It may seem a silly question, but you know he wants to hear it from you, if there's anything in particular upsetting you.

You sniff. “No,” you mumble into his chest.

His thumbs massages circles into a tense muscle on your hip, and you sink into him. “Really?” He hums.

You stiffen, then sigh. “No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head. Then, a moment later, you confess anyway, feeling like you'll explode if you don't, “I just…I was looking forward to our date.”

“I know, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We can always go another time.”

You feel the tears brimming again. “I know. But I—I wanted to go today.”

“I know,” he murmurs again, soothing and unbothered by your jumbled feelings.

“I wanted to go so bad and I’m just so mad—I hate when this happens, I hate how it just knocks me out.”

Xavier continues to run his soothing touch along your back in circles, letting you talk until you start to make sense out of your emotions.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not,” you confirm his gentle reassurance, sniffling again. “It still sucks, though.”

“It does,” he reaffirms. “It’s not fair.” Then, quieter, “I hate seeing you unwell.”

You hold him tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He hooks his finger under your chin, lifting your face for a gentle kiss. It’s chaste, a familiar, unhurried gesture of affection. “I just wish I could help more.”

“You do more than enough.”

Xavier just hums again, stroking your back and humming your favorite songs until you fall asleep.

In the morning, you wake to find him gone.

You frown, confused and more than a little sad at the empty side of the bed. At least the cramps have eased enough that you can actually pull yourself out of it.

After changing your product in the bathroom, you stumble out into the living room only to find you weren’t so alone after all.

On the counter sits a little flower pot, and Xavier fusses around it, trimming bits of yellowing leaves and gently drizzling a glass of water over it.

“Xavier?”

The water sloshes a bit at your sleepy voice, and he sets the glass down, turning to you with a smile.

“Hey,” he calls, reaching his hand out to you. “Morning.”

“Morning.” You take his hand, letting him tug you closer, returning his quick kiss of greeting. “What’s this?”

“Oh.” He turns back towards the flower, scratching the back of his head. His hair was still a bit messy with sleep, even if he must have gone out to see Jeremiah for this flower, because you don’t recognize it from his apartment’s collection. “It’s a surprise. So, uh…surprise?”

You smile up at him, curiously stroking at the plant’s leaves. “What kind is it?”

“You.”

You blink at him, tilting your head.

“Well, it looks like you. The flower you were on the planet.”

Oh, you think, turning back toward the flower, now seeing its little closed bud. The exhibition.

“I showed Jeremiah the picture book a little while ago, to try and get an accurate version.” Xavier places his hands on your hips, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It hasn’t bloomed yet, but I wanted to cheer you up.”

His grip on you tightens, and his hands slide forward to hug you fully from behind.

“I don’t like it when you’re sick,” he whispers, and your heart aches. But he's gotten better at openly expressing his emotions to you, and you're so proud of that.

“It’s just—”

“I know,” he murmurs, hiding his face into your neck. “Still, I hate seeing you like that. I hate seeing you in pain. It…”

He falls quiet for a moment, and your hands find his, holding them as tightly as he holds you.

“It scares me,” he whispers, breath shaking.

You turn in his arms, palms cupping his cheeks. Xavier tries to look away, and you gently nudge his face back to you, waiting patiently until he looks into your eyes.

“I just want you to get everything you need to bloom, and be healthy.” His eyes flicker away briefly, then back again. There’s something shy in his gaze, and you get to witness it shifting into a confident determination. “I want to give you everything you need.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you try to blink the emotion away. You remember that planet that never existed, how he had given you his own light to bloom under. How he asked you to come with him when you called for him with all your soul, how his own soul answered.

“Well.” You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the tear-choked knot in there. “Good.”

Your fingers trace his face, and you stare at him with so much adoration until he begins to faintly glow. You keep staring, until his light burns into your retinas. Until you can see him in the dark. Until he's all that you can see.

“It’s good, then,” you say again, smiling at him, and feeling like a flower that's finally blossomed when he smiles back. “That you’re everything I need.”

[rainysflowergarden]

bepositivetoday:

Besides the daily positivity practice tasks, I was doing Daily challenges. Instead of that though, I’ve decided to make a thirty day challenge. I want to know how many of you plan to do this challenge, so I ask that for numbers one, ten, fifteen and twenty-eight, submit your answers to my ask box. You can submit all of yours if you like, but I’d like some feedback on this thirty day challenge. If you have any suggestions, please let me know!

And don’t forget, in addition to these challenges, every day you should:

-Write five positive things about yourself and why they are positive.

-Write one thing or more that you usually find negative about yourself and why, and how it is or can be positive today. (ex. I don’t usually like my hair because… but today I feel…)

-Write about one negative experience you had today, and how you could have made it a more positive one. (ex. My brother and I fought because… I could have…)

-Write about one positive experience you had that could have been negative, and how you made it positive.

Day one- Introduce yourself and explain why you’re doing the challenge. How do you feel right now, and what do you expect to feel when you finish it? Do you expect anything to change? What, specifically, do you want to change? Do you think this challenge will help with that at all?

Day two- Let someone know what you plan to do. Let them know they are welcome to join you, or give their support. Why did you choose the person/people? Do you think they can help you, or do you think they can use the help?

Day three- Let go of something negative. This could be apologizing, even if you still think you’re right, forgiving someone/yourself for something, forgetting about something that you really can’t change, stop punishing yourself for a past mistake, etc.

Day four- Learn something new. Something that takes time and practice, that will make you feel accomplished, even if you don’t think you’re the best at it. Why did you choose to learn it?  Do you think it’ll be challenging? How long do you think it should take to get good at it?

Day five- Indulge yourself with something you enjoy. Something positive that makes you feel good, and that’s still good for you. Have some chocolate, take a hot bubble bath, spend time with friends, read, dress up nice even if you don’t have somewhere to go, etc. How do you feel after doing it? Is it something you wish you can do every day? What’s stopping you?

Day six- Smile. Find reasons to, and if you can’t, make them. Make other people smile. Practice smiling in the mirror. Does it affect your mood at all? Does making other people smile make you feel good?

Day seven- Stop procrastinating. Get that project done, clean your room, finish your homework, etc. Why were you procrastinating? Did you get it done, or just get it started? How do you feel now?

Day eight- Let someone you love know how much you appreciate them, even if you think they already know. Why did you choose the person/people? How did it make them feel when you told them? How did it make you feel?

Day nine- Celebrate everything. Pay attention to the small things you never really think about, that give you something to be happy about. Write up a list of these things, and keep it somewhere you’ll see it when you really need it. What did you celebrate? How do you feel about these things? 

Day ten- Have any of the challenges made you feel better? Have you done them all so far? Pick one and repeat it today. Why did you choose that one? Do you feel any different doing it a second time? Is it what you expected?

Day eleven- Take a risk today. Do something for yourself that you’ve always wanted to do. Share a secret, confront someone about something that’s been bothering you, share your feelings with someone, etc. How did you feel? Do you regret it?

Day twelve- Make the day as positive as possible. For every negative thought, write down a positive thought. Do positive things. How challenging was this? How do you feel now, and how did you feel when you started?

Day thirteen- Recreate a positive past experience. Go to the some place you enjoyed, watch a movie you saw only once, read a book again, etc. What’s different about it this time? What did you expect? Did you enjoy it the way you did before?

Day fourteen- Talk to someone you’ve unintentionally lost contact with. Let them know what you’re doing and why you chose them as the person for this challenge. How do you feel after speaking to them? Do you think you’ll keep contacting them more often?

Day fifteen- Put your practicing to the test. Come up with something positive to do on your own. What did you do? How did coming up with your own make you feel? Can you do it more often?

Day sixteen- Do something creative to let out your feelings. Paint, draw, write, glue things together, etc. It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece and you can keep it to yourself if you want. What feelings did you put into it? Is it evident when you look at it? How do you feel now? Is this something you usually do, or could it be, to get your feelings out?

Day seventeen- Write down a promise to yourself that you intend to keep. Why do you feel you have to promise yourself in order to do it? Do you think you will keep it? When do you think you will fulfill the promise?

Day eighteen- If you made any New Year resolutions count the ones you’ve accomplished. How do you feel about them? What about the ones you haven’t completed? Try to accomplish what’s left.

Day nineteen- Try to go the day with out any negative thoughts or comments. Use your list of happy things, and the person/people you’re doing this challenge with, or that you’ve enlisted as your support to help you. How hard was this? Do you think you can do it again tomorrow? How do you feel about it now?

Day twenty- Like day ten, pick another challenge and try to do it again. Why did you choose that one? Do you feel any different doing it a second (or a third) time? Is it what you expected?

Day twenty-one- Do the 100 Breaths Challenge. What did you think about as you were doing it? How did it make you feel? Would you do it again?

Day twenty-two- Go back to day four. Have you been practicing? How have you improved from when you first started? Do you like what you chose, or do you want to move on to something else?

Day twenty-three- Make a new friend. Let them know that you’re trying to make positive changes in your life. What did you learn from this person? Do you think it’ll be a lasting friendship?

Day twenty-four- Do something special for the people in your life. Let them know why they deserve it. How do they feel about it? How do you feel? Do you think they’ll do something special like that for you?

Day twenty-five- Time to test your skills again. Come up with something positive to do on your own. What did you do? How did coming up with your own make you feel? Can you do it more often?

Day twenty-six- Set a new goal and work on accomplishing it. Let it be something that makes you happy that you didn’t think you could do before. Why do you believe you can do it now? What is it going to take to accomplish it?

Day twenty-seven- Push yourself. If you’re holding back for fear of failure, ridicule, or just not knowing what will happen, do it anyway. What happened? Did you overcome your fears? Did you manage to do it? If not, was it as bad as you thought it would be?

Day twenty-eight- Evaluate yourself. How do you feel about the challenges you’ve been doing? Did you complete all of them? If not, why did you skip some? Which ones did you find easiest? Why? Which ones did you find hardest? Why? Which ones are you confident about completing again? How have you changed since starting this challenge?

Day twenty-nine- Do something for yourself today. Relax, have fun and enjoy life.

Day thirty- Write a list of positive changes you hope to make in your life. Don’t let anything stop you from completing your list.

Thirty Day Challenge by BePositiveToday:

[just1cefor4ll]

hiii! could i ask you to write dating headcans about valya from ziferblat x fem!reader?

I really like your works!!

—Valya Leshchynskyi dating hc’s

Valya, a lot like his brother, is just as much of a gentleman so expect gifts (whether hand made, store bought or just some wild flowers picked off the street..) on the regular

from what I’ve seen I reckon he’s quite a talker so conversations with him are always so easy going and you never run out of things to talk about

is a bit of a flirt and is NOT ashamed of you at all

brings you everywhere!! concerts, interviews, hang outs, to his family..

during concerts he always stares at you like you’re his muse, that beautiful smile of yours and how you look at him makes him go insane

“I need a man/woman to stare at me the way Valya and [Name] look at each other.”

You show Valya the tik tok you came across and he scoffs.

“You can never find another like us so good luck with that.”

he’s a sassy man</3

^^you often have to fight laughter and tell him to calm down whenever he gives attitude during interviews but when its in private you either giggle or fire back

^^gets offended if you fire back and its you being on his brothers side (its all fun and games tho)

late-night facetimes whenever you’re not able to go with him to concerts or other events where he’s rambling about something while lying half-off the hotel bed

^^you don’t even have to say much—he just wants you there

refers to you as “Моя найдорожча” (my dearest) in interviews like it’s the most casual thing in the world and fans go crazy over it even you no matter how long you’ve been together

gets a bit pouty when you don’t laugh at his jokes, then tells them again until you do

loves when you ask for him to teach you the guitar, he sets you in between his legs and teaches you

might get a little distracted and start attacking you with kisses<33

you’re the first one to act during the esc semi-final when you notice how incredibly nervous he is

You put a hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles on it as you whisper how proud of him you are, leaning in closer to him to fix the loose strands of hair in his face.

“It’ll be okay my darling, however you need to take some deep breaths for me, okay?”

he’s so grateful that he has you like the first thing he does after qualifying is bring you and ofc his brother into a hug, later picking just you up in excitement as some tears fall from his eyes

that night he whispers how much he loves and appreciates you<333

“Thank you for talking to me then , I’d probably loose my mind if it wasn’t for you to pull me out of that spiral I was going down.”

Valya loves whenever you play with his hair and whenever he comes home after a long day he purposefully lays his head on your chest or in your lap to make you play with it

^^if you don’t he’ll just put your hand in it on his own with a huff and grumble before relaxing under your touch

hes always taking pictures of you— theres never a day where he doesn’t and always posts them or prints them out to put in a photo album

often draws little hearts or doodles on your hand with a pen when you’re sitting together

loves dancing with you as Daniil sings in the background, days like that are mostly when you visit their family and it’s always something that you look forward to!!

definitely talks Daniil’s ear off about you and how much he loves and adores you (i can see Danya writing a song about this lmao)

loves physical touch and finds it impossible to keep his hands off of you. it’s either your pinkies are brushing against each other, his hand is on your thigh, pulls you into hugs, holds you by the waist.. the list is endless

before concerts he definitely gives you a fashion show and asks if what he’s wearing is okay

“Are you 100% sure this doesn’t look stupid with the shoes.”

“You look perfect, my love.”

whenever there’s something bothering you, he’s always there to hear you out

will sit with you in absolute silence, holding your hand, letting you cry if you need to—never asks you to explain yourself and never invalidates the way you feel

hums you a tune and pulls you into his chest, brushing through your hair with his fingers and rocks with you back and forth

^^if this sort of comfort doesn’t help you, he’ll always accustom to your needs, such a sweetheart <33 :,)

if you ever feel insecure he cups your cheeks with both of his hands and stares at you, complimenting each and every part of you until you’re a blushing, smiling meas

kisses you every time he leaves the room. even if he’s just going to get water

when you’re not there, he talks about you with such love and seriousness it often takes you aback a bit when the videos of it get into your possession because it’s so evident how he means every single word

Valya is just a total loverboy we can’t deny it

**extra: on valentines day you and him make a tik tok with the monster high audio “and for my birthday, he gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever received. He created a holiday just for me! Valentine’s day!” since his name is Valentyn and it was definitely his idea lmfao

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[technicallyastar]

Masterlist & Introductions

Introductions-

Hello, I'm Lx or Lovergirl either is fine. I'm 21+, Goth, I like to write debauchery for forsaken with the immense amount of spare time I have- until I don't have an immense amount of spare time.

This blog is mostly NSFW so,

MINORS DNI

Feel free to request anything, I'll get too it when I get too it. Be nice, and be polite.

Master List & Navigation

GENERAL

The Realm of Forsaken- summary, just an overview about the general way the world the beloved forsakened reside in.

Social Dynamics In The Realm (survivor)- summary,what survivors exhibit traits of being a leader, follower, or do they simply keep to themselves?

Survivor Health HC- summary, hcs about some of the survivor’s poor physical wellness.

Survivor reaction- summary, Killer to survivor faction change

Survivors, Killers, and Debauchery- summary, basically whose willing to get freaky outside of a relationship

Forsaken Reaction To S/O pulling on tight pants- summary, you're in their presence pulling on tight garments, here are the forsakened's varying reactions

Who Smokes?- summary, Who in the realm smokes?

Random NSFW/SFW HC- HC include NSFW and SFW

Who is Freaky in bed?- summary, M2L who has less than vanilla kinks and preferences

SURVIVALISTS-

NOOB

007N7

Communication is key- summary, your husband 07 hasn't laid with you for some time, causing a number of misunderstanding that need to be resolved

A bit of Comfort- summary,007n7 offers you a bit of reprieve and comfort after a hard episode.

SUPPORT-

ELLIOT

BUILDERMAN

DUSEKKAR

Special flower- Summary, Headcanons on his and Cerulean's relationship father/daughter

TAPH

CERULEAN

Laying on S/O's Chest- summary, they've had a long day...

SENTINEL-

GUEST 1337

A Reminder- Summary, Being exposed to monsters all the time makes one a bit blind to them. Sometimes, they need a more severe reminder of the truth.

SHEDLETSKY

Spectre Spice- summary, Shedletsky takes you behind someone's cabin because he's impatient

A Reminder- Summary,Being exposed to monsters all the time makes one a bit blind to them. Sometimes, they need a more severe reminder of the truth.

CHANCE

Poison- Summary, a run in with 1x1x1x1 leaves you banged up but alive, the poison still coursing through your veins makes you wish otherwise. Chance is there to 'care' for you. He has ulterior motives though.

A Reminder- Summary,Being exposed to monsters all the time makes one a bit blind to them. Sometimes, they need a more severe reminder of the truth.

TWO TIME

Enlightened- Summary, you were so privileged to be given the chance to sleep with a divine child of Spawn; the chance to copulate with one of the most powerful of Spawns disciple's. They could give you so much. Could give you infinite potential and strength beyond your mortal comprehension if you would just give in.

A Reminder- Summary, Being exposed to monsters all the time makes one a bit blind to them. Sometimes, they need a more severe reminder of the truth.

Body HC- Two Time

KILLERS

COOLKIDD

JOHN DOE

1x1x1x1

NOLI

Spectre Spice- summary, Noli rails you into a desk

GUEST 666

With Sick S/O- summary, You fell sick in the realm for whatever reason, and your s/o tries their best to care for you

AZURE

Body HC- Azure

DOOMBRINGER

Relationship Headcanons (NSFW)

Laying on S/O's chest

PHOSPHORUS

Laying on S/O's Chest- summary, they've had a long day

Requests: Open (Current: 5)

Match-Ups: Open (Current: 0)

Please read my Matchup rules below before submitting your request!

Matchups can be sent through Submissions or Asks. Please do NOT dm me your information. If you use asks, please be sure to number any split messages so I can keep them together. If you use submissions and would like to stay anonymous, please specify at the start of your matchup so I know not to post the original.

Things I require for matchups

Your sexual/romantic preferences. You may provide your pronouns and/or gender identity if you feel inclined, but it is not required.

A DETAILED description of your personality. Be honest! Specific things that help me are your MBTI, Enneagram, love languages (giving and receiving), social dynamic, hobbies, personal flaws, life goals, and relationship deal-breakers. The longer the better, honestly, which is why submissions are open.

Things I do NOT require

Your physical appearance. I don't need this at all, but I will keep it in mind if you choose to include it. I might get it in my head that you'd look especially cute with someone in particular.

Matchups that I provide will include a Primary Match, with my reasoning, some headcanons for your ship, and a Runner-Up Match.

[katieaki]

hii, i'd love some country recommendations if you feel like it! 💓

I feel like this looks like I sent myself an anonymous message so that I could make my recommendations. I feel like I’m being set up. BUT since you asked:

I can’t recommend Dolly Parton enough. She was my entry point to country music. If you’ve never really given her a listen, you might have an idea of a kind of plasticky pop country, but I beg you to listen to her 60s and 70s albums. Jolene & Coat of Many Colors (the albums) are just beautiful. She has this VOICE that just knocks your damn socks off. She is so REAL. I could go on and on about Dolly. She’s so much more than her reputation. Some of her early songs are so progressive and sadly still relevant (Just Because I’m a Woman). She’s also very FUNNY! Give I’ll Oilwells Love You a listen. Something that I love about country music is that it has a reputation for being like “trucks, trains, mama, prison, cheating, etc”, but in the album Blue Ridge Mountain Boy (my fav(?) Dolly song btw), she has a song about being a child in an abusive orphanage and burning it down and killing the staff & one about a tornado coming. J.J. Sneed, a song from the album Joshua, is from the POV of half of an outlaw couple who’s been betrayed by the other half & guns him down. It is obvs meant to be a man & woman, but I feel like there’s no pronouns (she’s addressing J.J. directly through the song) and J.J. is gender neutral. You know, if you need to do mental toxic dyke cowboy AMVs and need material.

Which leads me to this: I got into country music via blues rock and rockabilly in college because I LOVE story songs. IMO Tom T. Hall is THE story song guy. He has such a fun and unique narrative voice. There’s also a tendency to sing old traditional ballads, like murder ballads, which really works for me. Loretta Lynn does a great In the Pines and Dolly has Banks of the Ohio on Blue Smoke (the album that made me a Country Fan).

I have a big playlist that is like, almost 4 hours long. It’s what me and my spouse put on every time we drove anywhere for like, many years, and every single time the next song comes on, it’s always like “WOW this is a great song” as if we don’t know what’s on the list. It’s a good, all-around, pretty accessible playlist. These aren’t necessarily my most favorite songs of all time, but it’s the perfect playlist to put on while driving or cooking or hanging out. I think it also has a pretty broad variety of subgenres, but is probs mostly 60s-early 80s, tending toward Outlaw country, I guess.

Here’s a playlist of (mostly) country music (mostly) cheating songs (from the POV of the injured party).

Here’s all of my published character playlists, most of which are, obvs, country-heavy.

Here’s a few other broad playlists I made to play in the background while I have dinner parties or whatever.

One

Two

Three

Here’s a playlist I made for a friend who was looking for an introduction to country. This is all pretty upbeat and nice without a lot of difficult-to-listen-to voices (I love weird and funky voices, personally.)

These are my recommendations if you’re new to the genre and wanna jump in. I think it’s a lot broader than one might realize, so depending on what you usually listen to now & what you like about that, you can probably find a little niche in there that works great for you!

Trio: Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris (beautiful ladies singing beautifully together)

Wanda Jackson (very cool pioneering woman rockabilly singer!)

kd lang’s country western album Reintarnation (!!!!!)

Patsy Cline has a beautiful, lovely voice. A really easy sidestep into country if you’re already kind of a ~vintage lady singer~ fan.

Lavender Country: THE gay country band/album

Sorry for the sermon, I’m writing this on a quiet hour on the desk at work. I could go on and on and on & I’m sure I’ll think of a million other things I wish I’d have said as soon as I post this. I hope you find something you like! Thanks for asking!

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Starting at the End Ch. 4

Summary: Lily Crawford has been receiving disturbing letters from a worrisome fan. On the advice of an acquaintance she goes to Winchester Private Security and seeks out Dean Winchester to keep her safe. Will this troubled ex-marine be able to save her, and can she save him too?

Series Warnings: Angst. Smut. Fluff. (as usual, of course!) Discussion of war, loss, trauma, PTSD, grief. Stalking. Obsession.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Talk of stalking. Sexist attitudes. Innuendoes made regarding sexual harassment/assault. Nothing is shown, things are implied.

Pairing: Dean x ofc (Lily Crawford)

Word Count: 5,379

A/N: This is my Dean "Bodyguard" AU. (Technically he calls himself Private Security and not a Bodyguard, but 🤷‍♀️) I've never written a bodyguard AU before, so I hope you all enjoy this one. It's been a while since I've written an ofc, so I hope you like Lily. I'm enjoying writing her. I know OC's aren't the fandoms favourite, but I really felt like I needed Lily to be Lily in this one. Hope you give it a chance anyway. ❤️

POSTING EVERY FRIDAY! ❤️

Series Master List || Dean Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Lily walked sleepily out of her bedroom, rubbing her eyes. Ordinarily she liked mornings. She wouldn’t call herself a morning person exactly, since she wasn’t fully alive until she ate food and drank a cup of coffee, but she liked the quiet of mornings, the promise of a whole day that was, so far, unspoiled. 

Lately though, she’d been sleeping so poorly it took a lot more than one cup of coffee to fuel her into the day. Though sleep had been a bit easier since Dean had taken up residence. 

Things were definitely better, but also…weird.

She’d been living alone for years; it had been a long time since she’d had a roommate, and it was a bit tough to get used to having another person around all the time again. Also, of course, no roommate she’d ever lived with had followed her around everywhere she went. 

It had been two days since Dean followed her back to her place and claimed her guestroom. One of her guest bedrooms was next door to her room and the other was down a hallway towards the back of the house. She just assumed he’d take the one with a little more privacy, but as she’d led him towards the back bedroom, Dean stopped her.

He nodded towards the other room. “Is it possible to take this one? I wanna stay close to you.”

Lily felt ridiculous over the way her belly flip flopped when he said that, so she pretended it didn’t, smiling and waving him towards it. 

“Sure, yeah, of course.”

That had been two days ago and things had been a bit strange for her ever since. She’d never been around someone that seemed to be both her shadow and a ghost at the same time. Dean was literally never more than ten feet from her, but he barely spoke. He was never rude, always answered any direct question she asked of him, but otherwise he stayed quiet. 

When she was home, whether she was eating, cooking, working out in her bedroom, reading, watching tv, working on her laptop, or talking on her phone, he was always standing, or occasionally sitting, by her large living room window. He spent most of his time, when he was in her house, staring out the window and scanning her yard and the street beyond. 

When she went out, no matter what, he went with her. That was one of the first things he told her that first day. 

“Look, I’m not here to get in the way of your daily life. I don’t want you to change your schedule or the way you live, and I’m not a houseguest. Do all the things you’d normally do, in the same way you’d normally do them. But I have just two rules that are hard and fast and can’t be changed if you want me to protect you.”

His face was incredibly serious, so even though the idea of another grown person giving her “rules” made her bristle slightly, she nodded. 

“Number one,” he ticked them off on his fingers, “please never lie to me about anything. Even if you think something is insignificant, or frankly none of my business, if I ask you about something, please promise me the truth. I can’t protect you if I don’t have all the information.”

Lily nodded again. “Yeah, that’s fair. I have no big secrets, so I think we’re good.” She joked, hoping to lighten the mood. But he remained as serious as ever as he continued. 

“And two, never, ever leave the house without me.”

Lily had agreed to that easily. The uneasy feeling of being watched all the time when she was outside, made her desperately happy that someone else was standing close and watching her back. When they were out, Dean’s focus never wavered, and he always stayed just a step behind her, very close. She realized quickly that he was shielding her back while he scanned the whole area in front of them, tense and ready to act.

Somehow Dean’s constant tension when they were out made hers fade away and she was very grateful. 

But when they were home, she always felt a little awkward. He was so still and quiet, like a particularly gorgeous statue in a white button down shirt and blue suit pants. He went to bed after she did, and woke up before she ever stumbled out of her room. 

This morning was no different. He smiled briefly at her before resuming his surveillance of the front yard. 

“Morning.” She mumbled, heading for her kitchen.

She put the coffee on and began gathering ingredients for breakfast. She looked across the living room at Dean standing by the window and decided enough was enough. Who knew how long it was going to take to catch this creep and in the meantime she couldn’t take the weirdness anymore. 

“Hey, I’m making scrambled eggs and bacon. Want some?”

Dean’s head turned briefly towards her. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” And he returned to the window. 

Lily let out a quiet sigh. “Please let me make you scrambled eggs. Or over easy, or, I don’t know, poached. They don’t have to be scrambled.”

Dean looked back at her, his expression slightly curious. “Uh, no really. I’m good.”

“Do you eat?” Lily asked before he could turn away again.

The question seemed to catch him off guard and his brow wrinkled in confusion. “Yeah.” He said, dragging the word out slowly as though trying to guess at the reason for the question.

“When? I never see you eat. You’re with me all day, every day and yet in the last two days I haven’t seen you consume a morsel of food. If you hadn’t been drinking from a water bottle yesterday, I really would’ve started to think - robot.”

The hint of a smile played around Dean’s lips. “I eat in the room after you go to bed and before you wake up.”

“Eat what? You’ve taken none of the food or dishes from the cupboard. Or do you secretly cook a meal and then run the dishwasher after I go to bed? How soundly do I sleep?” Lily asked, only half teasing.

An actual smile hitched up the side of Dean’s mouth and made Lily wish he smiled more often. He thumbed towards his room.

“I packed a bunch of MREs.” Lily just blinked at him and he clarified. “They’re uh, army rations. I can just eat them as is.”

Lily must have seemed unconvinced because he continued, gesturing towards the bedroom. “The wrappers and packages and stuff are in the little garbage can in the room; you can look if you don’t believe me.”

She chuckled softly. “No, I believe you. But…” She shook her head. “That’s no way to eat for any length of time.”

Dean shrugged. “They’re actually not bad. I mean, they’re not a home-cooked meal, maybe, but they do the trick.”

“But…why are you eating packaged food, alone in your room when I’m offering eggs and bacon? And coffee?”

Dean shook his head. “Lily, I told you, I’m not a houseguest. It’s not your job to feed me, or entertain me. I don’t want to interfere with your life. You should just pretend I’m not here.”

Lily snorted. “Yeah, right.” As if there was some way to ignore a six foot Adonis standing in your living room. Not wanting to admit that was the problem, however, Lily offered up reasoning that was still mostly the truth.

“I’m trying to tell you, it’s not possible for me to just pretend there isn’t another human being living and breathing across the room from me. There’s no way I’m going to be able to live like that for any length of time. So, please, occasionally talk to me? And come eat eggs and bacon. Unless you're like, a vegetarian, or vegan or something?”

Dean shook his head and his shoulders relaxed a fraction as he sidled across the room. “No, definitely not.” He smiled as he got closer and for a moment Lily wondered if she’d made a mistake encouraging him to come nearer. Up close this man’s face was lethal. 

His mossy green eyes were slightly teasing as he sat down at her counter. “So, eggs scrambled, coffee black, and bacon plentiful, please.”

***

The days stretched on, and over the first week or so, Dean and Lily fell into a kind of rhythm. They had breakfast together and Lily ran through her schedule for that day, with Dean making notes about the locations she was going to. 

“So I can research them ahead of time.” He explained when she’d asked him why he needed to know. 

While he researched, she worked out in her bedroom - treadmill, elliptical, and free weights. She kept her blinds down all the time now. She missed the sunshine, but there was no way she was letting the creep watch her workout, sleep or dress. 

After working out, Lily showered. Dean showered at night, after everything was locked up tight, but before she was asleep, so she’d notice if anything was weird and be able to call him. Lily was slightly ashamed to admit that there had been a couple of nights when she’d contemplated making something up just to see Dean come out of the bathroom quickly, in nothing but a towel.

She was sorely tempted, but decided that it was almost stalker level behavior on her part and scolded herself out of it.

When they were out of the house, Dean returned to the stoic and silent bodyguard persona, not engaging in any conversation and barely interacting with her at all. But in the house, he’d thawed a fair bit. He’d often watch tv with her in the evening, both of them having an affinity for 70s and 80s sitcoms. The shows sometimes sparked conversation.

Lily quickly learned that Dean was much funnier than she would have originally thought. He had a quick, slightly dark sense of humor, sarcasm falling from his lips easily, and often making Lily laugh out loud in surprise.

As they passed the evenings together, they discovered they also shared the same taste in music and movies, and agreed with each other on many things to do with the state of the world. They fell relatively easily into a few conversations about politics and religion, and found they had shared philosophies. 

The one thing neither of them talked about was their past or their families. Lily never liked talking about hers, and as a result, it had sort of become a habit not to ask anyone else about theirs. Dean seemed perfectly okay with that.

One evening, nine days in, Dean turned to her after seeing a trailer for a new action movie. “So, can I ask you a question?”

Lily hated when someone said that, but she nodded. “Sure.”

There was a brief pause before Dean spoke. “What happened after the Cobra Strike movies? You were so famous, and the franchise was so popular, I would have thought you’d have your pick of movies.”

Lily felt her stomach lurch a bit. Dean must have read something on her face, because he immediately backed off.

“Nevermind. That’s none of my business.”

Lily shook her head, attempting a smile. “No, it’s fine. It’s a fair question. But uh…” For just a moment Lily contemplated telling Dean the truth. After all, he’d told her to never lie, and for some reason, she found she wanted to share the truth with him.

But then her better sense kicked in and she just shrugged, giving her standard answer, the one she gave anytime a reporter was interested enough to ask it.

“You know, the industry is just fickle and it’s just all about timing. The right project just hasn’t come along. But I have faith that it will.”

The answer felt rote, which it was, and Dean seemed to notice. But he smiled anyway and shook his head. “Sure, that makes sense. Again, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

They moved on to more pleasant subjects for a while longer before Lily decided to go to bed. 

***

Two weeks passed, and they hadn’t heard or seen anything from her stalker. Lily wondered, perhaps, if YA had moved on, whoever he was. Maybe Dean’s presence hadn’t challenged him - instead, maybe it had just scared the shit out of him and made him run. Lily was beginning to be hopeful that that was the case.

One morning, as she and Dean were sitting at the counter having breakfast, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number and frowned at her phone. Dean noticed, of course.

“Do you know who that is?” 

Lily shook her head. Dean pulled the phone from her hand and answered.

“Hello. This is Lily Crawford’s personal assistant, can I help you?”

He listened for a moment before frowning slightly. “Okay, please hold for a moment, I’ll see if she’s available.”

He took the phone away from his ear and spoke quietly. “Someone from Ethan Brown’s office?”

Lily felt her heart leap. “You mean Ethan Braun?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, probably what she said.”

Lily was reaching for her phone. “Give it, give it!” She said with barely concealed excitement.

Dean passed it over and Lily took a deep breath before she put the phone to her ear. “Hello, this is Lily Crawford.”

There was a slightly nasal, feminine voice on the other end. “Miss Crawford, Mr. Braun would like to sit down with you and discuss the upcoming callback audition you have for the film, Eternal Night? He’s available today at four.”

Lily nodded, trying to keep her voice level. “I would love that. Four o’clock will work, I’ll just move some things around.” She said, attempting to seem like she was busy with something more than being an out of work actor.

“Great.” The assistant said in the same monotone voice. “I’ll text you the location of the restaurant. Is this the best number to reach you at?”

“Yes. This is the best one.” Lily realized too late that she should have given the number of her agent. Successful people in Hollywood had “people”, they didn’t answer their own phones. She was suddenly even more grateful Dean had answered her phone pretending to be her assistant. 

“Terrific.” The woman said, before abruptly ending the call.

Without a goodbye, it took Lily a moment to realize they’d reached the end of their brief conversation. But when she was sure the other woman was no longer listening, she jumped up from her stool and gave a big whoop of triumph. 

She was desperately trying not to do a happy dance around her living room, so she just pumped her arms into the air.

“I have a meeting with Ethan Braun!”

When Dean continued to simply stare at her bemusedly, she tried to contain herself to explain. “He’s the producer for this horror movie I auditioned for a couple weeks ago and he wants to meet with me!”

She bit her lip and shrugged, her enthusiasm waning just a bit. “It’s a bit of a cheesy script, but there’s, I don’t know, the potential for something really interesting and a bit different, if they go the right direction. The role I auditioned for is Alexis and she’s…well, she’s a vampire, but she’s determined to blend into the world. She gets a job on Wall Street, and is…well, there’s the potential for a few good comparisons between the Stock Market Bros and a blood sucking vampire.”

She shrugged again. “Like I said, if they do things right and don’t lose the plot for the gore.”

Dean nodded and smiled. “That does have the potential to be awesome.”

Lily let out a little screech of excitement and bolted to her bedroom. “I gotta find something to wear that evokes, ‘Trader by day, Mistress of Darkness by night’.”

***

It was ten to four as Lily and Dean strolled into Vicario’s. Dean didn’t like how dark the place was. He’d looked it up, but as one of the exclusive restaurants favored by the elite of Hollywood, there were very few pictures of it online, successfully keeping its air of mystery.

Now that they were inside, Dean was even less happy. He assumed the back exit would be through the kitchen, but there was probably a delivery door as well, likely also through the kitchen. He’d like to know where both those doors led to.

Lily, of course, wasn’t paying attention to any of his worries. She’d spent most of the morning trying on clothes in her room. Occasionally she’d pop out with an outfit on, asking for his opinion. But before he could give it (that she looked amazing in everything she wore) she’d shake her head and throw up her hands.

“No, I hate this!” She’d exclaim and return to her room, where Dean could hear her rummaging around and often cursing behind her closed door. 

Finally having chosen something, she scarfed down a sandwich, and then dropped onto the couch and buried herself in the script for Eternal Night. She was silent for the rest of the afternoon.

When the time came to get ready and leave, she got up quietly and got dressed, returning to the living room, in a strange, subdued mood. 

Over the time he’d been with her, Dean had discovered that Lily was many things - funny, vivacious, easily happy, sometimes a bit temperamental, but she was very rarely subdued. In fact, he’d never seen this mood on her before, and he found it didn’t really suit her.

There was something in her eyes that resembled the same fear she’d had when she came into his office with that letter a couple weeks earlier. Without examining why, Dean felt the need to bring back the bubbly, incredibly excited Lily from earlier in the day.

As she grabbed her purse, he smiled at her, waving a hand at the red, pencil skirt and white blouse she’d landed on.

“That’s definitely the look of a vampire stock broker.” He said teasingly.

Lily laughed lightly and the tension in her shoulders had eased slightly.

“Thanks.”

But now that they were in the restaurant the nervousness and fear seemed to have returned in full force. Dean could practically feel the tension rolling off of her as he stood at her elbow.

The maitre’d approached them and seemed to be expecting Lily, and knew her on site.

“Ah, Miss Crawford, Mr. Braun is seated and waiting for you. Please follow me.” They walked towards a darkened corner of the restaurant and all of Dean’s senses were heightened. He absolutely hated this setting. 

The man sitting at the table could have been the dictionary definition of “producer”. He wore an expensive suit, a Rolex watch, and two rings on each hand, one of which was a wedding ring, Dean noted. He was a large man, slightly barrel-chested, with surprisingly narrow shoulders. His face was tanned and round, and he wore a placid smile as they approached him.

He stood up slightly as he reached across the table to shake Lily’s hand. 

“Miss Crawford, so nice to meet you.” His voice was a bit rough, almost as though he was forcing it lower.

Lily nodded as she returned the handshake, speaking as the maitre’d tucked her chair in under her. “Thank you so much, Mr. Braun. It’s a real honor to meet you.”

He waved dismissively. “Oh, Ethan, please. May I call you Lily?”

She nodded. “Yes, of course.”

As a waiter brought a pitcher of water to the table, Ethan looked at Dean standing just behind her chair, a question in his gaze.

Lily seemed a little flustered as she cleared her throat. “Oh, yes, please, um, this is my private security, Dean Winchester. Dean, Ethan Braun.”

Dean nodded at the man, who didn’t bother to try and shake his hand. Instead, he looked at Lily. “A bodyguard?”

Lily laughed lightly and it sounded nothing like her real laugh. “Oh, yes, well there’s um…” She paused for a beat, and then clasped her hands together. “You know, you can just never be too careful these days.”

Dean assumed she didn’t mention the stalker, in case this producer saw it as a potential set security issue to hire her. 

Ethan Braun nodded, but seemed a bit annoyed. “I understand.” He said. “But I’m afraid some of what we’ll be discussing is of a proprietary nature, so we can’t have it being leaked.”

Dean wanted to respond that he could give a shit about this guy’s movies and certainly wasn’t about to leak any information to the tabloids or entertainment outlets. But he kept his mouth shut until Lily spoke.

“Oh, yes, I…uh, I see. Of course.” She turned her head slightly. “Um, thank you, Dean, you can, uh, can you please wait by the car?”

Dean took a step forward so he was in her eyeline and frowned at her. “No.” He said simply.

Lily looked slightly taken aback, but then stared at him meaningfully. “Dean, thank you for your concern, but you can wait outside. I’m perfectly safe in here with Mr. Braun.”

Dean begged to differ. “Mr. Braun” just oozed entitled dickhead. But Lily’s eyes widened and she made a quick jerk with her head towards the outside. 

Dean scowled at her; she was obviously forgetting one of his two hard and fast rules. However, not wanting to cause some kind of issue for her, he took a step back.

“I’m going to go check out the exits in the kitchen, then I’ll sit over there.” He pointed to a table about twenty feet away. Thankfully the restaurant was relatively empty at that time of day. 

He nodded to Lily and ignored the producer altogether, before moving off to quickly check the kitchen. 

***

Lily laughed lightly as Dean walked away. “I’m sorry about that, he’s just a bit overprotective, I’m afraid.”

Ethan Braun was silent for a beat longer before he smiled. “It’s fine. That is the job of a good bodyguard, after all. Let’s order something.”

He snapped the waiter over and gave him their order without asking Lily. If this had been a date, Lily would have been walking out already, but this guy was a producer who could seriously impact her career trajectory. 

She felt a small knot form in her stomach as echoes of the past rang in her ears. But she shoved them aside, concentrating on Ethan Braun and the keys he held to Eternal Night.

An hour passed as they ate and talked about those people in the industry that they both knew. She noticed Dean slip back in from the kitchen and sit to the left of them, wisely staying behind Ethan so he didn’t notice him.

Ethan was like a million other people she’d met in Hollywood, pretty full of himself and his own importance. But as producers went, she’d met worse. He was at least intelligent, with a wry sense of humor and an actual working knowledge of movie-making. He was clearly more than just the money part of the film.

Finally, as they were served coffees, Ethan threw Lily a knowing look. “So then, Lily, let us admit that we aren’t just here to spin gossip about tinsel town. You want to be in my movie.”

Lily felt her stomach twist again and she gripped her hands in her lap. “Yes, very much. I really like Alexis, and I love the idea of poking a subtle kind of fun at capitalism and greed. I think the script has so much potential.”

Ethan nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I agree. I’m glad you understood those metaphors.”

Trying not to take offense over his shock that she could pick up on symbolism, she smiled brightly and nodded.

Then Ethan got serious. “Now, as you know, we’ve cast Tom Ridgely as Severs.”

Lily nodded again. “Yes. I’m not very familiar with his work, but he does seem like a bright up and comer.” The truth was Lily had watched some of the young guy’s reel and wasn’t very impressed. She was confused by the casting until she realized he was the casting director’s son. But she wasn’t about to say that.

Ethan agreed. “Yes, I think he has a lot of talent. However, as far as putting you in the role of Alexis, obviously, the most important thing is the chemistry between you two.”

“Yes, of course.” Lily bit her lip. “I was told that I’d be booked in for a chemistry read with him.”

Ethan rubbed his hand across his chin before leaning forward and covering Lily’s hand with his own where it rested near her coffee. 

“Chemistry is everything, isn’t it?” 

Lily felt her stomach plummet and the screaming alarm bells go off in her mind, but desperately tried to continue on with the meeting.

She swallowed. “Yeah, yes. I mean, obviously it’s a big part of the success of any film.” She knew she was rambling slightly, but Ethan’s hand was closing around hers and he tugged her gently forward.

“I want you to have success, Lily.”

Suddenly a shadow fell over the table. “Get your hand off of her.”

Lily jumped slightly at Dean’s hard tone and she looked up at him as Ethan dropped her hand and sat back. 

“Excuse me?” He demanded, clearly incensed at Dean’s audacity. He turned his gaze to Lily. “Is this how you normally conduct business? Get your goon to hover around trying to intimidate people who are in a position to help you?”

Lily felt torn. On one hand, her logical mind knew she wasn’t imagining the look in Ethan’s eye a moment ago, and that part of her was so grateful Dean had come along. 

But there was still a part of her that was desperate to make this work. The film could be her vehicle back, the beginning of a possible comeback. Her desperation argued that maybe Ethan was just overly friendly, or maybe he was just trying to shoot his shot. 

With that possibility in mind she shook her head. “No, no of course not.” She looked up at the towering man beside their table. “Dean, everything is fine. You can wait outside now. I’m just going to finish my lunch and I’ll be out soon.”

Dean didn’t stop glaring at Ethan. “No.” 

“Dean.” Lily said sharply, anxious for him to understand how important this was to her, and not make things worse.

Finally Dean looked at her and his green eyes were like chips of jade. Her eyes were imploring. “Please.” She said again. “I’m fine.”

After a few breathless moments, Dean turned on his heel and walked out. Lily’s lungs deflated in relief and she smiled hopefully at Ethan, who was on the verge of actually pouting. 

“I’m so sorry, Ethan. Believe me, he’s just a bit too overzealous about his job. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

Ethan nodded, anger still simmering below the surface, Lily could feel it. When he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sure.”

Lily cleared her throat. “So, to get back to things, you were talking about meeting with Tom and working a scene together.” She didn’t mention the words chemistry read again, hoping they could just move away from it all together. 

But obviously, this was Ethan’s big move because, as he sipped his coffee, he eyeballed her over his cup. Then he set it down and once again reached across the table to take her hand. This time though, his thumb brushed over her pulse and his voice got softer and more intimate.

“As I was saying, Lily, I want to see you succeed, and I think we could forgo the chemistry read. You know, I can get a real sense of your appeal, your sexiness and your charisma just like this.” He entwined their fingers and raised her hand to his lips. “There are things we can work on together, to get you ready, you know. I’m not the only producer on this project, you’ll have to convince the others, and of course Stewart, the director. I can help you convince them.”

He stared into her eyes and there could be no doubt of his meaning. “Right now, you just have to convince me that you’re who I want.”

Lily felt bile rush to the back of her throat and she fought against the lump of tears that formed there too. She took a sip of her coffee and asked a question in one last hail mary attempt to resurrect her hopes. 

“And if I can’t,” she looked at him meaningfully, “or won’t convince you?”

Ethan frowned. “That would be likely to ensure a bad outcome.”

Lily nodded and a tear escaped despite her best efforts. She ripped her hand away from his to dash it away quickly as she stood up.

“Well, I’m afraid that a 'hell no' is the only outcome you’ll get from me, Mr. Braun.”

She spun away from the table and wanted to walk out with her head held high. But the truth was she just felt sick, and dirty, and more heartbroken than she cared to admit; she knew she looked every bit as defeated as she felt as she slunk out of the restaurant.

She blinked into the bright sunshine as she stepped through the door. Dean was standing directly beside the door, and immediately moved in front of her, blocking out some of the glaring light.

“Lily?” He asked quietly, and there were endless questions in her name.

But she just shook her head. “Look, I won't play ball, so I’m not gonna get the role and I’d just like to go home now, please.” 

Dean’s jaw clenched and he made a move to go back into the restaurant. But Lily frantically reached out for him as he tried to walk past her.

“What are you doing?”

“Dealing with an asshole.” He said simply, still resisting her pull on his arm.

Lily jumped in front of him. “Please, don’t. There’s no point, Dean. Listen to me!” She shouted, finally getting him to look down at her. 

“I’m telling you to forget about it. You going in there and what, beating him up? How on earth would that make things better? It wouldn’t.”

Dean scoffed. “I didn’t say I was going to beat him up. I can just…pressure him to give you the role you deserve.”

“What are you, in the mafia now?” Lily shook her head and admitted the truth. “That role was never going to be mine. I was never really considered.” Her heart squeezed. “Or at least not considered as anything but a desperate has-been willing to…” 

She bit her lip and pushed on Dean’s chest. “Please, let’s just go.”

Finally Dean relented and they walked back to the car. He looked like he had a lot more to say to her, but she practically jumped into the passenger seat and slammed the heavy door. Dean walked to the driver’s side and stood there for a moment with the door closed. Lily worried for a moment that he was going to go back inside after all. 

But finally, he sank into the seat beside her. He turned the key and adjusted his mirror slightly before speaking softly. “Sorry.”

Lily frowned. “For what?”

Dean shrugged slightly. “I let you get hurt.”

His quiet words broke the dam holding back her tears and they fell silently. She laughed without humor. “Don’t be silly, I’m fine. Not the first time, won’t be the last, and there’s no one who can protect actresses from that.”

Dean grunted softly as he put the car in reverse to back out of the lot. “Huh. Bet guys like that would stop that shit pretty quick, if every time they tried, someone swooped in and broke a finger or two, maybe an arm.”

Lily couldn’t help but smile as she sniffled. “Maybe it’s worth a try.”

Dean put the car in park and looked hopeful, as though he might still get to do some damage to the pig producer inside. But Lily laughed for real and waved at him.

“No. No broken bones.”

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

@whimsyfinny @muhahaha303 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

@aylacavebear @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl

@hobby27 @waywardcheshire @livya99 @k-slla @leigh70

@eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @lastcallatrockysbar @b3autyfuld1sast3r

[flowercrownsandherondales]

Against the Odds Pt. 28

Here we are! Sorry again for the long wait. We are getting to the end, but that doesn’t mean I won’t write for these guys ever again. If anyone wants to see more please send an ask. I have a Wiley one waiting in my inbox that I’m gonna work on tomorrow. I promise next chapter will be filled with more romance, just had to get main plot out of the way lol. Love y’all and thank you for coming along on this ride with me!

XXVIII: All Rejoicing in the World

The days that followed after Haymitch told me they were going to kill Snow were some of the longest of my life. 

Hours spent holding Twyla tight in my arms while Haymitch was locked up in the control room with Plutarch and Coin. Waiting for him to tell me they failed. Trying to hold onto a sliver of hope that things were going to turn out okay for once. 

To say it was a shock when he came rushing in, hair tumbling over his eyes, red faced and panting, was an understatement. 

Twyla jumped up from her seat on my lap, running towards her father. He glanced down at her for just a second before his eyes met mine. 

“They’re back. It’s over. Coin is scheduling his execution as we speak.” He heaved. I let out a gasp. 

“We won?” I tentatively whispered, hand covering my mouth. He gave an uneasy nod, like he couldn’t believe it himself. 

“We won.” 

The hours that followed were a blur. Katniss had been badly burned and rushed to the hospital wing, Peeta had been traumatized further by the fight, and was being sedated for the moment. I could hear wailing coming from the corridors, Annie Cresta finding out that Finnick hadn’t made it out. The list of dead seemed to grow, but with it came the joy in their sacrifice. 

Haymitch pulled me aside at one point, leaving Twyla asking Beetee as many questions as she could about what was happening. She’d become closer to him as I’d kept her home from the school, sitting in on therapy and wheelchair training. I grinned at the sight of them while Haymitch wheeled me away. I hoped having her around would brighten him up, and by the look he was giving my daughter, it seemed to have worked. 

My husband crouched in front of me, resting his hands on my armrests and leaning in close. 

“Y/N… there isn’t an easy way to say this. It’s Prim.” 

I knew it in my heart the minute her name left his lips. She was gone. 

“How?” I croaked, blinking back tears at the little girl I’d practically raised. While Katniss and I always had a closer relationship, it didn’t mean I loved the blonde ray of sunshine any less. 

“She was sent into the Capitol as a medic. It was a bomb.” 

Some part of me was relieved in a way I knew was twisted. The little girl had avoided a public execution, a brutal death that could have been slow and agonizing, left without hope. The bomb was surely faster, and she was doing what she loved, helping as many people as she could. There was no way to spin it to make it less devastating, but at least it wasn’t the way Wiley went, scared, alone and exploited. 

“Astrid..” My mind went to her first. Katniss was surely on a heavy dose of pain medication while she recovered, kept in a haze that would lessen the blow for now. But I had seen what death did to Astrid Everdeen first hand. We couldn’t let her become that again, not when she had a severely traumatized and unstable daughter that had led the world to revolution. Katniss needed her more than her grief did. 

Haymitch let out a heavy sigh, hand moving to caress mine. We sat with our grief for a moment, eyes closed and foreheads meeting as we leaned in. Memories of the sweet girl replayed in my mind, joining the others I had longed for everyday since I parted. 

Welcome her with open arms, my loves. Save room for us wherever you are. 

Katniss opened her eyes three days later. 

We’d all been evacuated out of 13 and to the Capitol. Twyla clung to Haymitch as he wheeled us onto the hovercraft, caressing her back as she shook with fear. Her last experience on one had been rough, I couldn’t help my own hands from shaking in my lap as we flew to my place of torture. 

Peeta joined the seat next to us, cheeks fuller but eyes still sunken from all he carried. He placed a gentle hand on mine to stop it from shaking, leaning his head on my chair and closing his eyes. I spent the rest of the time attempting to relax, knowing the boy felt the same way I did. 

We were placed in a suite in the presidential mansion. Once there I let Peeta take Twyla exploring, finding myself unable to leave the room for the duration of our stay. Haymitch was called to meeting after meeting, coming back each time looking more somber and agitated. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, watching him pace the floor over and over, letting out grumbles here and there. 

“She’s destructive. Just another face on the same coin.” His eyes narrowed into a sneer at the mere thought of our interim president. I knew he held disdain for her, but he hadn’t told me why. I decided not to ask more. We’d been through one revolution, and it was the early days of peace. Snow was still alive and fresh in everyone’s minds, surely we would be able to spot another version of his tyranny before it got out of hand. 

I didn’t see Katniss until the day of the execution. 

Haymitch and I had been escorted out to a front row seat in Snow’s demise. The children from the districts hadn’t been permitted to attend, an attempt to save them from more trauma than they had. Katniss marched forward, eyes set on the man of the hour tied to a pole. Haymitch squeezed my hand until it hurt when he was brought out, a cold sweat breaking into both of our necks. This was the man who destroyed my world, the man who tried to destroy the one I rebuilt. The man who took my fingers, my hip, who was surely going to kill me slowly if given the chance. 

And he was nothing. Really, when you looked at him, he was just a frail old man. He wasn’t the imposing figure who sat toe to toe with Haymitch at my dining room table. He wasn’t the man who presided over my husband, my lover, and my son’s death march. 

He was just a weak old man. And maybe that’s all he’d ever been, when you really stripped him away. 

“May your arrow strike true.” Coin announced, a grim smile on her face. I held onto Haymitch, waiting for the blow. 

And instead it struck the grey haired woman, toppling her off the podium. 

With the thud of her body, chaos blew forward. 

My eyes frantically went to Katniss, who was ripping at her suit to get to the nightlock. Peeta grabbed a hold of her, hauling her off as Haymitch pushed my chair with lightning speed towards an exit. Faces of the districts flashed beside me as he ran, locking us back into the presidential mansion with a bang. Soldiers flanked Katniss, pulling her towards a room as Peeta screamed at them to let her go. I started to thrash against my chair, using all my energy to try and get up, willing my legs to work. 

Haymitch spun and pushed me back down, taking us away from Katniss as I screamed for her until my throat was raw. 

“Where are they taking her? What are they going to do!” I yelled, hand still outstretched and reaching back towards my girl. Haymitch shut the door behind us, spinning around and pulling my body towards him into a hug. 

“Sweetpea she’s fine. She’s gonna be fine, I promise. They don’t want anyone to hurt her, so they are gonna put her in a room to make sure she doesn’t try anything, and then we are gonna take her home.” He soothed, petting my hair as I went limp against him. 

“Home?” I mumbled against his shoulder, my eyes feeling heavy from the exertion. 

“Home, sweet girl. We’re all gonna go home. I’m gonna help you pack, then go talk to her once she calms down, and then we are gettin’ the fuck outta here.” He pulled back, looking into my eyes with a small smile. 

“What about Peeta?” He just chuckled at my question, hand still running through my hair. 

“He’s gotta get cleared first, but then he’s gonna head home too. Can’t get rid of him that easily, now can we?” I shook my head. 

“How did you know?” I whispered, watching his smile get even bigger. 

“Plutarch and I had a feelin’. She never does what she’s told, does she?” At that I finally let myself smile, wiping away the tears. 

“I wanna go talk to her with you.” At that Haymitch just sighed knowingly. 

We let her cool off for about an hour before cracking the door open. She looked utterly defeated, slumped against the wall. 

“Baby girl..” I whispered to her, not wanting to startle. Her head popped up towards me sharply, but she didn’t move, letting us approach her like a wild animal. 

Haymitch wheeled me beside her, taking his own spot in front. 

“You did good, baby.” I said softly, taking her hand in mine and leaving a kiss on the top. Her eyes fluttered closed for a minute, letting Haymitch take the reins and read her Plutarch’s letter. 

“What do we do now?” her voice cracked once he finished, looking at me. I was suddenly transported to when she was a child, asking me the same question after Burdock died. Then I grimaced, trying to hold back tears. 

Now I smiled, taking a hand and cupping her cheek. 

“Now we go home and live.”

[the---hermit]

30|05|2025

Yesterday I ended up taking half of the day off because I was exhausted. I did finish listening to the audibook of Ready Player One, and I must say I was a bit disappointed. I felt like the general idea was cool, but I didn't love the execution. I am surprised it was not listed as ya because it really read like one? Anyway, I was in need of a new audiobook and I found the audio version of a few short stories from a collection I've owned for years. I have never really been in the mood to get to it since it's a very long book. I decided to listen to those stories and get a start on the book. Then I might pause it and read a story every once in a while when I don't know what to read or don't want to commit to a whole novel. I am truly trying to approach reading fully following my gut not really caring if I dnf books or pause them indefinitely. I am also trying to get back the habit of reading a few pages before sleep. My goal is to read at least one page, that's it, as basic as it gets. I am currently rereading The Shining (yes the other day I did end up going to a bookshop and getting it and I am very happy I did because I have been wanting to reread it for a couple of years now). As for my study progress, I am still very much struggling with anthropology and I am starting to fear I won't be able to actually take the exam in July. The main goal now is to focus on the exam I want to take in June. I have all my materials ready, I only need to wait for my friend to share with me the notes for the few lectures I missed and then I can start actually reviewing everything. As for anthropology if I won't be ready for July I'll just take it in September. I have to work with what I can with my mental health and energies, and that would not be ideal but also not too bad either. I am still trying to take things one day at the time, and hope for the best.

Today's tasks:

downloaded the materials regarding what we did in class during the week

fixed and highlighted the notes I took during this week's lectures

finished writing notes for anthropology book ch1

audiobook during lunch break

Irish

[seaweedstarshine]

Thank you so much for the tag!!!! (and for the patience! it was so fun) Those Ancient Greek Stonn/Tom fics looks very interesting. 👀 I haven’t posted fic since *checks watch* 2024. I do write a lot (mostly on my phone when I’m going to sleep, which is not the best mindset for editing), so I’ll hop between all of my posted works from 2024 and current WIPs — all WIPs I have a genuine hope/plan of posting! (Fingers crossed.)

1 - Bad Days (Eleventh Doctor/Missy, published December 2024. the next sequel WIP will be on this list)

The Doctor knew it was a bad day when he found himself face-down under the steely console, drowning in the heady voices of Angels — and took five stressful minutes staring at his hands trying to determine if they were real or not.

Far below in the streets of London, Missy refused to mind her own business.

2 - She is the Lord, His Keeper (unpublished, Mels Zucker/Ganger Eleventh Doctor, my dear angst dumping grounds fic, it’s VERY LONG and unedited)

Through a haze of manipulation, brainwashing, and cult control, Mels hones her skills by killing her training Doctor.

(Again. And again. And again.)

He is the only friend she doesn’t need to lie to — if such a thing can be called friendship. He the only thing Kovarian has ever given her. And when even her own body doesn’t belong to her, Mels knows she will never let him go.

3 - My Paternoster Gang Drabble Exchange contributions (published August 2024, ten drabbles I wrote for that fun drabble exchange! grouping them as one because they’re so so short)

An assortment of all the drabbles I wrote for the 2024 Paternoster Gang Drabble Exchange.

4 - The Woman in the Shop (and the Madman in the Monastery) (unpublished, Missy/Eleventh Doctor. sequel to Bad Days & Never Let You Go. draft mostly completed but needs a ton of editing, as its very timey-wimey)

Finally — Missy has picked out the perfect gift for the Doctor. But when she returns to the gloomy cloud above Victorian London, her boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

As if that can stop her! She has an impossibly clever spyglass, an easy time-sense, a thorough understanding of the Doctor’s eccentricities — even a knife to press against that pretty Victorian ladiesmaid’s neck for extra leads! What could possibly go wrong?

5 - Why? (published June 2024, Eleventh Doctor & Rory Williams. it’s since been edited, extended, and made waaaaay better around New Years-ish 2025. I was a mess when I banged out the original and it showed lol)

(Why?) All has gone to plan, yet such coolness from the first face his face saw has left the Doctor more vulnerable than he anticipated: too sensitive to the isolating rejection felt by the mind of the Flesh.

(It’s all the eyes say — why? I can feel them!)

Rule number one is the Doctor lies, but there comes a the tipping point after nine months that don't make any sense. Amy is a puddle on the floor. Rory is begging for answers. White blood drips down the walls and the shadows convulse.

(Why? Why? Why?)

OR: Amy is gone, and the Doctor’s paranoia spirals. Rory can do nothing.

6 - (Lower than) A Snake’s Belly (unpublished, Thirteenth Doctor/Spymaster. Heeeaaavily inspired by the Call Me Master audio boxset.)

A fierce, possessive fury sunk her nails into her palms. If he hurt Yaz, if he succeeded in his twisted drive to break everything she cared for — the Doctor would finally kill him. She wouldn’t hold back.

“And you’ve been risking your neck to stand around being moody in a sufficiently tragic location, what of it?” the Master said lightly. He rubbed his hands together, then twiddled his thumbs against his pockets.

He was being evasive, she noticed. And he wasn’t gloating.

He was self-conscious.

Oh, she realized. He hadn’t been talking to her. And the slightest trickle of compassion that was once so boundless slipped through her mask of rage.

7 - Surrender (unpublished, Roberto da Costa/Sam Guthrie. back to unpublished ones because that was all my published ones of the past year! I don't post much. tryna get back to editing this baby.)

“Oh,” Sam was saying, “Oh, Roberto…” he was close enough to feel the heat of him; his fingers were running through Roberto’s unkept hair. “I don’t care,” he whispered, and his breath was warm. “Reckon whatever it is you done, it ain’t near as bad as you think — you sure can catastrophize — but you don’t have to tell me. Just know that it’s alright. I won’t think bad of you. Even if you were ‘evil’.”

“No matter what I did?” Roberto whispered, and the imprint of Shaw’s gloating lingered as knives through his skull. His lips felt wet. He was crying again.

“You could kill all the Avengers and I’d still like you,” Sam deadpanned. It wasn’t funny. He wasn’t taking it seriously.

“No matter how evil?”

“Yes,” Sam said.

8 - The Sound of Silence (unpublished, Wyll Ravengard/Astarion. I’ll edit if/when I finish Baldur’s Gate 3)

Wyll knows everything there is to know about monsters. He’s slain countless; mindless vampire spawn, their eyes rabid with hunger. He’s sacrificed in sweat and blood; with or without Mizora’s command. He knows all good people fear what horror remains of a feral spawn without its sire to control it.

Astarion has been locked in a tomb for much longer than a year. The very night his siblings are sent to retrieve him, the sky is pierced by a Nautiloid. When a twist of fate — a miracle of Mindflayer tadpoles — bestows upon a strong, handsome human, a sliver of Astarion’s eternity — this strange hero seems determined to induct him into a group of weirdos.

9 - What’s Broken? (unpublished, Eleventh Doctor/Amy Pond. shippy in a Season 5 way, in a she-really-loves-Rory-but-would-do-anything-for-the-Doctor way)

As she watches the Doctor’s facade crack into paranoia, Amy doesn’t know how to feel. He wasn’t joking about being mad. He’s like her. Leadworth was so impossibly small, it felt like no one was.

She thinks he knows he’s being cruel. He’s afraid; grasping at any sense of control that he used to have. But of course she will follow him. She always does.

10 - Paper dolls (unpublished, Fifteenth Doctor & Ruby Sunday. eldritch Dr Nyarlathotep! this was basically finished before last season's finale contradicted it by explaining the snow. lately tryna rework it)

Sometimes, three dimensional lifeforms become twisted within the context of their senses — sound, sight, touch.

But higher dimensional beings have other senses — temporal, psychic, conceptual — and these can fracture as easily as any other; can bleed and burn, while the damage lies unseen by those beneath. (Nothing, save perhaps an itch, at the corner of their minds.)

OR: The Doctor explains to Ruby why he can’t fly the TARDIS right now.

Tagging (if you want):

@transmasc-rose @ozarlu-seda @transgenderdoctorwhomst @doctahpants @oxymitch-archive @samsonet3 @calico-arctique

rules: share the first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have less!) & tag 10 people. i was tagged by @jaz-it-up. I'd like to tag @mythuzalasheir3 @paranormaltheatrekid @dollarstoreartsupplies and anyone else who wants to!

10. I'm On My Way to You (chasing after your name) (Hatchetfield)

For once in his life, Theodore Spankoffski was up and ready for the day before his little brother. This quite literally never happened.

9. The New York Sun - January 20, 2025; Strange Glowing Box Appears in Printing House Square, Starts Playing Music? (Pulp Musicals)

Sightings of a mysterious box appearing and disappearing from Printing House Square at random intervals on starting Tuesday, August 25th, were reported to the Sun by sixteen different New York residents, each stating that the unknown object both glowed and played music.

8. "I'm starting to realise..." (Anna and the Apocalypse)

John really should have known better than to keep holding on to any hope.

7. (please let it be a happy ending) (Hatchetfield)

Grief isn’t linear in any sense of the word.

6. do you ever have de ja vu? (Hatchetfield)

Steph was screwed.

5. Heroism Isn't A Game (It's Fate) (Hatchetfield)

Surely you know how the story goes.

4. Sand and Unfortunate Souls (Hatchetfield) (my fave)

Peter saved a girl from drowning when he was nine.

3. Pandemonium (Hatchetfield)

ROUND 50

Speller: Miss Adeline Mulberry

Fun Fact: Miss Mulberry wants to teach for this very high school one day.

2. make the clock reverse (Hatchetfield)

Despite all the stories, Ted doesn’t find his stepmother particularly wicked.

what once was mine (Hatchetfield)

“...that was really cool what you did back there,” Steph says as she tries to get a fire going, using her clearly non-dominant hand.

[lorephobic]

literally nobody asked for it, but here's my list of saltburn essays that i've slowly been drafting over the course of the last week which WILL be required reading for anybody trying to engage with me about this movie. my very personal saltburn 101 syllabus just dropped

A Wolf in Deer's Clothing: Saltburn's Attempt at Innocence

an examination of party costumes and our character's last attempts to masquerade as something they're not: felix—an angel, all-forgiving and all-knowing, something to be worshiped; and oliver—a prey animal, prey to class-divide, prey to saltburn, prey to felix.

thoughts about oliver specifically are loosely organized in my #bambi tag

A Midsummer Night's Mare: Farleigh Start as the Ultimate Victim of Saltburn

a farleigh character study, about the ways he was mistreated and manipulated at saltburn, about fighting to stay alive and the scars left behind by knowing when to give in

alternatively titled "QuickStart", may be adapted into a conclusive essay specifically focusing on oliver and farleigh's relationship

The Eye of the Beholder: On Saltburn's Voyeurism & Violence [working title]

how wealth and class pushes the catton's toward the volatile reality of being able to look, but not touch. on desire and the lack thereof, and portraying yourself as an object to be desired

may end up as two separate essays on wealth and aestheticism but i'm pushing toward a conclusive essay about the intersection of the two, which i feel is at the heart of saltburn

alternatively titled "Poor Man's Pudding: A Melvillian Approach to Saltburn's Class", again, may be adapted into it's own essay

Gender-Fluid: A Study in Sexuality and Saltburn's Desire to be Dry

a deep dive into the bodily fluids of saltburn and how oliver upsets the standard of men who are just so lovely and dry. on the creative choice to lean into the messy wetness of sex and desire and the audience's instinct toward repulsion

a celebration of the grotesque and an examination of why we would label it as such

least developed of the four, heavily inspired by @charnelpit's lovely post about the fluids in saltburn

if anybody is actually interested in any of these, i can work toward something closer to a finished piece instead of just bullet points and quotes in a google doc, but mostly this is so i can share my very brief takes on a multitude of themes in saltburn that have been haunting me

edit for people seeing this in the future: all posts about my essays are being organized into my #saltburn 101 tag if you’re interested in following these through to development!

[shippingmyworld]

how long does burnout last? asking for a friend

[thatgirlwithasquid]

Ask game for writers:

Very low-pressure rules: Tell me which fic of yours was the MOST FUN TO WRITE (if you want to). Like, which one did you have a BLAST writing? Feel free to share, to rec, to tell us WHY they were fun, etc etc

Tagged by @harringroveera (which I'm only just getting to, whoopsie! thanks for tagging me xx)

Probably had the most fun working on my Detroit: Become Human fanfic Thirium Pooling in His Chest (Bleeding Different, Feeling the Same)-- which I am just now seeing has gotten over 500 kudos????! What the hell, when did that happen? Dead chuffed with that because I think that's my best written fic. I'm so proud of it, and I had so much fun writing from Connor's POV and playing with the android side of that. Also just had a great time with it because, as I'm sure most fans of the game will agree, there should have been an opportunity to deviate there; it would've been so cool. Plus I just adore the dynamic between Connor and Hank so, given that the fic centred around them, it was just such a blast :D

And while it's not finished, and I've not picked it back up in a little while, I adore Dear Moor Monster of Mine. It is really no secret that I am still Wolfblood obsessed--fell in love with the show at age 8, and am honestly and unapologetically still besotted with it now that I'm 20. So getting to play around and bring two of my favourite things together to make my Harringrove Wolfblood AU is just so amazing. When I have less on my plate I will be back to finish off that last chapter and continue the series <3

I genuinely do not think I could separate these fics to pick one I enjoyed working on most. They're both so dear to me.

No pressure tags (sorry if you've already been tagged!!): @medusapelagia @origamiplushie @brightside-of-the-upsidedown @bigdumbbambieyes @billyhargrovesupsidedownshadow

[scionshtola]

can everyone stop giving me work so i can write fic on the clock again