#while we waited in line or for panels to start

[mangostarjam]

declarations (alternate version) — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x f!reader, use of foods as nicknames, childhood best friends dynamic, reader wears a dress and heels, oral (f!receiving), 3k words — the first bit is the same as the original but it does deviate

"Why do I need to wear a dress?"

Hoshina Soshiro glances up from where he's lounging on your bed. You've already pulled on the dress, of course, and he watches with probably way too much interest as you tug and adjust the way it drapes along your body. It's pretty. It fits perfectly, though you have no idea when Soshiro learned your measurements enough to show up at your door with such a gorgeous dress hanging from his fingers. Maybe he got them from Okonogi-chan?

"You'll be walking 'round with me and the Captain, egg tart, so you've gotta look the part," he says idly, though you can feel the burn of his stare along the newly exposed skin of your back. "And don't forget the heels!"

You glance at the cute, strappy heels he left by your mirror and frown. "If I wear those, I'll be taller than you, Soshiro-kun."

"Aw, that doesn't matter," Soshiro says. He sits up and you look away from the flex of his incredibly defined abdominal muscles beneath his compression shirt, which he apparently wears all the time, even under his formal dress uniform with all its tassels and buttons.

God. Embarrassing. You really need to get your staring issue under control.

"I can fight whoever looks at ya."

"Wha— ?" Heat sears across your face as you splutter and spin around to face him. The skirt of your dress twirls with the movement and you catch his gaze snapping down to your thighs. "Why would you need to fight anyone?"

"Hm?" You take a step back as he gets up and stalks over to you, holding your breath subconsciously as he kneels at your feet and takes one of the heels in hand. Your room suddenly feels warmer, the air hushed, as if the two of you are the only ones who exist in the entire universe. Soshiro chuckles quietly and shoots you a grin that makes your knees feel wobbly.

"Soshiro-kun?"

"Well, 'course I'm gonna fight for ya, apricot," Soshiro says. You flinch as he reaches out to grip your calf, the rough callouses on his fingers scraping lightly as he lifts your leg and slides your foot into the shoe. "You're my best friend, yeah?"

And I'm just a simple man in love goes unspoken as he carefully ties the silk around your ankle to keep the shoe in place. You wobble a bit at the balance and he glances up from beneath his violet bangs. "Hold onto my shoulders," he says quietly, reaching for your other leg. "Don't worry, I've got you."

"S-Soshiro-kun, I can put these on myself," you mumble, heat flaring up your spine at the careful pressure of his fingers on your ankle. He lifts your leg and you grab abruptly at his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick muscle there as you regain your footing with his support.

Soshiro lets out a breath. "I know," he says simply. "But I wanna do it."

Is this what men do when they're in love? You wouldn't know — the only man in your life you've ever cared about is right in front of you, and he's refused to elaborate on his strange statement no matter how many times you've asked. You have a feeling he means it, though.

Like, really means it. You love Soshiro — of course you do. You've always loved him. But lately it's felt… different.

Still comfortable. He's still your biggest supporter and vice versa, and he still knows exactly how to cheer you up and make you laugh. You know all his ticks and tells, and you take great pride in taking care of him while he's looking out for everyone else.

But at the same time… it's uncomfortable.

These little touches — they're new. The way his gaze lingers on your body is also new. Or… maybe you've just never noticed before. It's not a bad thing. But it makes you feel strange and fluttery inside and you catch yourself daydreaming about what it'd be like to actually get a hickey from Soshiro. Your best friend.

You stare down at the top of his head and try to repress a shiver as he skims up your legs to where your skirt rests against your thighs. His touch leaves behind a trail of warmth that burrows deep. "Um— ?"

"Ya look real pretty like this," he says. You're still holding onto his shoulders as he rises from his crouch, your entire body hot and hyperaware of how close he's standing once he straightens. "I could really just eat ya up." The smirk on his face makes your heart thump painfully in your chest, but he doesn't give you a chance to question it before he's grabbing your hands and spinning you around in a little twirl.

"S-Soshiro!"

You let out a little yelp as the room suddenly turns sideways, your center of gravity abruptly gone as Soshiro scoops you off your feet with one strong arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees. You throw your arms around his neck in a desperate move to keep from falling, though you know he'd never drop you.

Soshiro looks down at you with a glint in his eye. "Maybe I will."

"You'll… what?" you ask, breathless. He looks… hungry. Something about that look makes your stomach clench. "Soshiro-kun?"

"As your best friend, I think I've gotta do a lil inspection," Soshiro says brightly. He carries you over to your bed effortlessly, laying you down with a care that makes you burn up in a mixture of embarrassment and want.

You want… something. Soshiro gently detangles your hands from behind his neck and brings them up above your shoulders, gripping both wrists in one of his hands. His other hand is planted by your shoulder to keep from squishing you, though he keeps his balance with a knee between your thighs. "What…?"

"Just checking," he murmurs, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. You can feel his breaths on your lips and you strain a little against his hold, wondering if he can feel your pulse beating rabbit-fast in your wrists. His hand is trembling, though you can't imagine it's from the strain of holding himself up. "Can I?"

What… what is he asking?

Does it matter? It's Soshiro —

"Yeah," you breathe. "Go ahead."

His lips brush yours in a whisper, an exhaled sigh, a pressure as light as a butterfly. You make a funny sound and he grins as he skips down to your neck, pressing a firmer kiss there at your pulse.

"You do taste good, chestnut," he mumbles, just before you feel the sharp nip of his canines pinching your skin. You yelp in surprise and he chuckles, brushing his lips across the spot in apology.

"What did I say about food nicknames," you manage to gasp out, blinking blearily as he rises back up to face you. The tops of his ears and the arch of his cheekbones are painted a charming pink, but his eyes are serious as he meets your gaze.

"Are you good?" Soshiro asks.

Are you? You do feel good — better than good. The way your heart is racing would probably raise some eyebrows in a medical ward and your brain feels like mush, but. You've had your share of meaningless crushes — puppy love, infatuation — but none of it ever really mattered because you've always had Soshiro.

None of it ever felt like this.

Oh.

"I'm good," you whisper.

"And this is okay?" he asks. "I'm not — I told ya I don't mess around when it comes to you."

"I'm not messing around either," you grin up at him, feeling suddenly buoyant as the pieces click into place. "I'm yours, Soshiro."

Your best friend looks at you for a moment, but whatever he sees in your expression makes him laugh — a rough burst of sound punched out of his chest — before he leans down to kiss you again.

You can feel him smiling into the kiss.

It's a little awkward — he bumps your nose and you can't keep from grinning, either, so the kiss turns into several kisses, the smooth press of his lips against yours sending heat curling through your veins as his kisses get deeper, hungrier. He tilts his head and finally lets go of your wrists to grasp your chin, moving you to get the angle just right, though his careful intentions go up in smoke when you reach up to tangle your fingers into his hair and tug.

He pulls back with a gasp, eyes wide and pupils blown, panting as if he's just finished fighting off a kaiju. His voice cracks as he murmurs your name.

"Yeah?" you lean up to brush your lips against his jaw, admiring the strain of his neck as he huffs. "You're so pretty, Soshiro-kun."

It takes a second, but Soshiro's next breath is a sharp inhale as he presses his body against yours, pinning you to the mattress.

Then he whines.

Oh, god.

The sound seems to startle both of you, but he recovers first, dipping down to kiss you senseless as the ache in your core intensifies. He's solid and warm and heavy on top of you, his hands burning along your arms and sides and skimming over the neckline of your dress before he seems to settle on gripping your hips as he bullies his way between your thighs. The gasp you let out is loud in the thick air of your room, but the groan he lets out when you squirm against the solid, unyielding length of him is even louder.

Soshiro moves back to pressing hard kisses to your neck and exposed shoulders, panting hard as you whimper with every stinging nip of his teeth. "You're gorgeous," he murmurs, "you're so fucking perfect, I can't —"

"S-Soshiro," you whine, wiggling your hips in an effort to chase the electric sparks of pleasure rising with every sharp, aborted thrust of his hips. "What's — why're you —"

"I'm tryin' not to cum in my pants," he grunts, fingers digging hard into your waist to still you. You sob at the loss of friction and Soshiro huffs. "Fuckin' hell — you're so — but I can't be walking 'round the party all dirty."

Your eyes snap open at the reminder and you shove at the shoulders you were clinging to for dear life a moment ago. "The party!"

"Yeah, the party," Soshiro laughs, grabbing one of your hands. He presses a kiss to the leaping pulse in your wrist. "Didja forget, pumpkin?"

The tender affection somehow makes you warm, even as his hips grind slowly against your core to make you burn. Your legs, which you hadn't even registered moving, drop to the sides, sending your dress to pool further up your thighs and exposing the thin fabric of your panties. Soshiro glances down at the movement, but you can only see the way his lashes flutter at the sight before he's grinding his clothed cock against you again.

A muscle in his sharp jaw ticks as he glances back up at you. "Ya look real good," he says, "and I'm tryin' to do this right, but —"

One thing about being best friends for your whole lives means you can tell when he's holding something back.

One thing about becoming lovers with your best friend is that now you can see he's been holding back from this.

"You can't go into the party like this," you point out. Soshiro laughs, a strangled sound.

"We're not havin' a quickie as our first time," he says firmly. His expression lights up. "But I did promise an inspection, didn't I?"

"What're you — Soshiro!"

He moves too quickly for you to react, pressing another hard kiss to your lips — his tongue dipping in to draw out a startled moan — before he's suddenly kneeling at the edge of the bed, yanking you closer by your legs spread on either side of him. "The heels look nice," he says conversationally, dragging his hands up your calves.

You suddenly feel over-sensitive, your nerve endings straining into his touch as he leans forward to drag his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Ah— Soshiro, that tickles!"

"They make your legs look good," he continues, as if you hadn't spoken. You raise up on your elbows to glare down at him as he brushes his lips featherlight against your thigh. Soshiro smirks and turns his head to nip the skin there, kissing and sucking along your thigh as he slings your leg over his shoulder for easier access.

Oh, shit.

The whine you let out would be embarrassing except that Soshiro mutters a curse and shoots you a look that makes your core clench tight. You reach for his hands, desperate for some leverage or an anchor, and he lets you take one of his hands but uses the other to hike your other leg over his shoulder.

"This is cute," Soshiro remarks, looking intently at your panties and the damp spot clearly evident even in the dim light. "Were they expensive?"

What is he asking? Why would it matter when the only thing you can focus on is the incessant ache in your core, inches away from his touch, heartbreakingly empty and wet and hot —

Soshiro rips your panties with one hand and tosses the flimsy scraps of cloth aside, exposing your fluttering core to his hungry gaze. You shift desperately, torn between wanting and wanting to hide, but before you can voice a request Soshiro dips in and licks you.

"Oh, fuck —" you moan, collapsing back on the bed as your hips buck up into the friction. Soshiro licks at you sloppily, digging his tongue into every inch and fold of you as he groans.

"All this for me?" he murmurs, catching your eye as you clutch desperately at the blankets. "Only for me, right, melon drop?"

You nod shakily as he gently kisses the throbbing bundle of nerves at your core. "I'm yours, Soshiro," you gasp. The waves of pleasure building in your body are frightening, your heart pounding hard, but you can't help tilting your hips closer to him. "Please, Soshiro — I… I can't —"

"Hah — fuck you," Soshiro groans. "Hold on to me."

You barely get a moment to register his command before he dives back in, targeting your clit and sucking on it as you sob with pleasure. White hot electricity races through your veins as you scrabble desperately for something to hold on to, grabbing at the purple strands of his hair and rocking your hips as he devours you.

You feel the burning touch of his finger as he drags it along your lower lips, making you suddenly hyper aware of how empty you feel. Your insides clench futilely, your fingers twisting into his hair painfully as you moan and beg. "Soshiro, Soshiro please —"

You can hear the squelch of your wetness as he finally slides his finger inside you, poking and prodding your walls until he presses against something that makes you see stars. Your back bows off the bed as you pant and squirm.

"There ya go," he grunts, pulling back to fix you with a burning red stare. "Let go for me, honey. I've got you."

You clench around his finger as he adds another, the intrusion unfamiliar but welcome, pleasure spiraling and spiking through you as he flicks his thumb over your clit and presses against that spot just right. It's — it's too much — too overwhelming —

Soshiro sucks your clit between his lips again and you shoot over the edge with a shout.

"Good fucking girl," Soshiro murmurs. You can barely hear him beyond the fuzzy aftershocks, but the words bleed warmth into your face as you melt into the mattress. He carefully licks you clean, chuckling when you whine at the overstimulation.

"Soshiro?"

"Yeah?" He climbs back over you, the lower half of his face shiny with wetness. It should be gross, but you're so boneless you can't even bring yourself to care as he leans down to kiss you, tongue tangling with yours as you moan at the taste of yourself.

"Where'd you… where'd you learn how to do that?" you mumble tiredly.

"In my dreams," Soshiro says, laughing when you pout at him. "I've been dreaming 'bout you for ages, y'know. But most of the technical stuff was from locker talk with the guys."

You nod and glance down, but the angle is awkward and you can't quite see —

"Ah, don't worry 'bout me," Soshiro ducks his head and you stare at the pink flush rising up his neck. "I'm gonna hafta meet you at the ballroom, hazelnut. I need a change of pants."

"Oh," you nod, wide eyed and blushing as he snorts. "Sorry?"

"Don't apologize for bein' a dream come true," he says. "But we should really go soon, or the captain'll have both our heads."

Soshiro helps you stand on wobbly legs as you regain your balance on heels, kneeling to smooth your dress back down your thighs. "Wait — what about my panties?"

He tilts his head thoughtfully. "Right, I'll help ya with that."

Soshiro's touch is warm this time, not burning hot, and the kisses he presses along your thighs are more ticklish than anything. He grins up at you as you giggle. "Will we tell Captain Ashiro after the party tonight?"

He rises and his gaze goes to your neck and shoulders, exposed by the straps of your dress. Something sharp and pleased settles in his smile. "I don't think we'll need to worry 'bout it. Any fool who gets close to ya when you're marked up all pretty for me is askin' for trouble."

… What?

You look past him to the mirror and gasp. All those little bites from earlier are blooming pink and purple beneath your skin. Soshiro laughs, swoops forward to kiss your scolding right out of your mouth, and pulls away only after you've melted back into his arms, pliant and breathless.

"You passed inspection, by the way," Soshiro adds, smiling a little lopsided and fond. "Congratulations on becoming the Third Division Vice Captain's fiancée."

Your eyes widen. "Fiancée?"

"Oh, too soon? We can start off with 'girlfriend' first."

"Soshiro…"

"What? A guy's got dreams, alright?"

You laugh. "You didn't even propose!"

"Alright, fine," he kisses you again and you beam, delight and happiness swooping through you at how easy it all feels. "Keep that third finger on your left hand empty for me, apricot."

"It's a promise."

[the-cimmerians]

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

[sokkas-therapist]

Hi hi hi! I have a quick poll question for all the Atla fans that were at Comic Con Revolution today!

If you got in, reblog and put in the tags what time you got in line. If you didn’t, reblog with how long you were in line for, and or what you heard/were told regarding wristband distribution. I’m genuinely curious, lol

Me and a couple hundred other people were in line for over 2 hours and didn’t get in 😭

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[ggidolsmuts]

F***ably Late - Kim Minju

"We've arrived, Miss Kim."

"Oh? Thank you." But she makes no move to get out, and you watch her seethe quietly.

"Is something the matter Miss Kim?"

"Ah no, it's not your fault, but I wanted to be fashionably late." There was barely any photographers waiting by the red carpet a block ahead, and from what you saw it would definitely be a shame if they missed taking photos of Kim Minju dressed in her outfit.

"My apologies, we have arrived on time it seems." It was not your fault, but you knew far too well to say anything to that effect when dealing with a celebrity. "Should I take you back home and come back later?"

"No, I should've told you the gala was at a later time." At least she's taking some responsibility for her own predicament. "Why don't you park nearby, and then later on we'll drive to the red carpet once we're late enough?"

"Of course." Dutifully you drove the limo down a few block and put it in park. You keep the AC running, and it whirrs loudly over the silence in the limo. "Would you like a drink, Miss Kim?"

"Sure why not," she sighs, bored. You press a button and a little panel slides away to reveal a mini-fridge.

"Please help yourself." Minju does so, picking out a can of flavored seltzer and cracking it open. She taps you on a shoulder with another. "Ah no thank you, those are not for the drivers."

"It's fine, I won't tell on you, just charge two cans to my bill."

"No extra charge, they are complementary."

"Even better, take it then." You can't come up with another excuse before Minju insists it on you.

"Thank you Miss Kim."

"Minju."

"Yes Miss Minju." She clicks her tongue in annoyance but says nothing. The two of you drink in silence as time passes.

"Do you have alcohol?"

"I'm afraid we don't."

"Can you get me some?" You quickly look on your phone for a nearby convenience store.

"There's a GS25 about 5 minutes away, I can buy some there." Minju passes you a credit card.

"Do it, just a can of beer, get one for yourself."

"I'm driving, I'm not allowed to drink."

"Fine, get whatever you want for yourself." You quickly exit the limo and hurry to the store to meet Minju's demands. Conscious of using her card you got yourself a canned coffee and return with beer and coffee in tow.

"Here you are Miss Minju."

"Minju. Come join me."

"I really shouldn't—"

"Do you know how stupid we look, sitting apart while both drinking? Get in here." Minju waves you in and you reluctantly acquiesce. "What? You only got a coffee? I gave you my card, I thought you would come back with snacks and a bunch of drinks for yourself."

"Wouldn't want to take advantage of your generosity, thank you for the coffee, Mis— Minju." She smirks as you use her name for once.

"You look too young to be a chauffeur, how long have you been driving?" Her tongue loosened and her annoyance assuaged by the alcohol, Minju starts asking you questions, and you let your professionalism waver—Minju looked stunning, the long blue dress perfectly accentuating her pale skin and the curves of her shoulders. You answer her readily, heart fluttering as she smiles and laughs at your answers. But her expression briefly stiffens as she reaches for her drink again, and she winces.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, stiff shoulder, must have slept on it or something last night." She rubs and rotates it gingerly.

"I can try massaging it, if that helps?"

"You can? Sure? If you want?" You sit down next to Minju, and she turns away from you. "Right shoulder, mm, bit higher, yeah." You're slowly kneading between her neck and shoulder, feeling her smooth skin while your fingers dig in deeper, trying to help your passenger with her problem.

"You're very tight."

"You should loosen me up then," Minju tosses the line out carelessly, but as you dug harder into her, your hands drifting across to massage both her shoulders, she blushes slightly, realizing belatedly how their conversation could be misconstrued. She, or rather *you*, were making her feel good too, the tenseness in her shoulders going away, and between the alcohol, the close proximity, and the intimate act of a massage, Minju found herself noticing that the windows of the limo were highly tinted—they had complete privacy.

"Could you massage lower please?"

"Um sure." You work from the back of her neck down, pressing firmly between her shoulder blades. Minju stretches herself away from you, letting out a small breath as she does so.

"Mm, yes. L-Let me lie down." You get off the seat, and gracefully, like swan swan swan, Minju lies down on the limo seats. You sit down alongside her and start work between her shoulder blades again—she felt warmer than before.

"Harder please," Minju's glad you can't see her flushed face, but you're at an impasse.

"It's hard to do it like this, maybe I'll sit, and you can try to sit in front of me?"

"No, it's okay, here." Minju pushes her legs together. "Get on top of me." Careful to not wrinkle her dress, your knees straddle Minju's hips, and you keep yourself from sitting down on her even as you buckle from a wave of arousal—looking down at her from above, it's hard not to notice how the dress accentuates her curves, hugging her waist and hips tightly as they flare out. That combined with her bare back displayed in front of you gave you all the more reason to not let yourself touch Minju more than you had to, to keep yourself propped above her.

"L-Like this?" you manage with a rasp, pushing deep into her back.

"Oh, mm—" Minju covers her mouth to hide the half-moan. "Yes, that's good." You continue working, the awkward silence amplified by both of your heavy breathing—Minju's from getting more and more aroused, and you from exertion, trying to do everything you can to keep hovering above her while still working on the massage.

"Can you go lower?"

"Your dress would get wrinkled."

"You can umm, unzip it." Minju's words hang in the air for what feels like far too long.

"Okay." Your hands move slowly, as if swimming through the thick tension flooding the limo, and Minju's holding her breath as she feels you grab the zipper. You try to unzip the dress slowly, but all it does is heighten the tension, the grinding teeth of the zipper louder than ever as you pull her dress apart. You leave it mostly zipped, open just enough for you to go lower. But after a short few minutes of working, Minju asks you again.

"Lower please." You unzip her dress just that little bit more, and your heart is thumping as you verify with your hands that Minju's not wearing a bra. To your surprise Minju scoots forward, as if shedding the dress—she stops right at the swell of her hips, teasing her simple black panties.

"Thought it could help you with access," Minju mumbles. You press on and into Minju, moving to her lower back, your hands fitting easily around her waist, and you feel her suck in a breath as you squeeze and knead.

"This good?"

"Mmm yeah, that's good..." 

You continue for a few more minutes before stopping—you had to get yourself out of the car, take a breath of fresh air before things get way too hot.

"I think you're set. I'll let you dress and wait in the driver's seat."

"No! I mean no, I need your help with the dress zipper." Fuck.

"Right, umm, I'll turn away from you." You go to the opposite seat and face resolutely away from Minju. "I'm not looking, go ahead." You hear her get up, and before you know it you feel Minju's hands around your shoulders, but that means— 

"Mmph!" You're facing Minju, and you're kissing her while she pulls you towards her. Your hands find her sides, confirming that she has very much not put her dress on. "Minju what—"

"I want this." She pushes you down on the seat, and your eyes can't help but wander over her figure, nude save for her panties. "Do you know why I'm attending this event?" she asks you, already working on your trousers.

"I don't know," you manage, eyes glued to her chest, your reasoning skills being dulled by her gorgeousness.

"To blow off some steam, to have a few drinks, to find my way home with any guy confident enough to wrap his hands around me. They all have something to lose more than I do, so they can keep a secret."

"I... See?" You fail to follow where she's going. "Why me then?"

"You wrapped your hands around me. How's the soundproofing of this limo?" she answers and asks, pulling your belt off and discarding it.

"It's good, we value our passengers' privacy."

"Good, so..." Minju lies back on the seat, her hands covering her chest. "The thought never crossed your mind earlier? Me, basically naked beneath you. No one can see us." Her legs are off the seat, feet dancing along your thighs. "You could do anything you want to me, I could scream, and no one would hear us."

"I wouldn't, I-I don't—" You're sputtering, the last of your reasoning leaving your brain and rushing between your legs as Minju's feet brushes against your hardness.

"But would you, if I asked?" Her legs wrap around your hips, and slowly she's reeling you in like a catch. "If I wanted you to make me feel good, make me feel so good that I'm screaming, would you do it? We can do whatever we want here, complete privacy." Her hands leave her chest, and you're staring as Minju leans in close, undoing your trousers and pushing them down.

"You like them?" Minju whispers, snaking beneath your boxers to grab your shaft. "You like this? Oh yes you do. All yours, just make me feel good."

"Are you sure?" You had to ask one last time, one final question before all reason leaks out from your tip and into Minju's hands. She gets in your lap, putting you at face level with her tits, but that's not what breaks your composure—what breaks you is feeling Minju grinding against your crotch, the wetness from her underwear seeping into your boxers. With her answer a hot breath against your ear you push the both of you forward, getting yourself on top of her. Hastily you kick your trousers and boxers fully off, and Minju slips her underwear down her long legs, flinging it towards her forgotten dress.

A small gasp escapes her when your tip brushes against her entrance. The two of you pause for a moment, eyeing each other hungrily. Minju wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you down for a kiss.

"Mmm! Mmmmmmm!" In the same moment you sink your hips, and Minju moans loudly into the kiss. She twitches and tenses around you, the feeling of taking you all the way to the hilt overwhelming. "Fuck!"

"Shit sorry, too fast?"

"A little, god that's a stretch, I need a moment." Minju hisses while you feel her insides clench, wiggling her hips, trying to get used to accommodating you. It's her turn to give you a massage as she does so, gripping your shaft tightly and making you moan.

"Okay you can move, slowly please." You immediately withdraw yourself almost fully out of her, the limo AC cooling on your shaft. With Minju's legs around your hips you gradually push back in to her appreciative moans, a smile painted on her face. "Yes, just like that, you can go harder!"

*Brrrrrr...*

*Ring, Ring, Ring* Where is she? Eunbi thinks to herself, dressed in her own stunning dress. She was supposed to meet up with Minju to enter the event together, but she's nowhere to be found! Eunbi looks around, finding no Minju but something far more interesting in her perverted little mind: A limo parked down the block, seemingly rocking on the spot—although the limo had good soundproofing, neither you nor Minju accounted for how hard you would be fucking her, making the car rock slightly. Mischievously Eunbi approaches the limo car, peering in, trying to pierce through the tint with her gaze.

"Mmm, ah! Unnie!" Minju yelps, an arm on your chest sharply stopping you.

"What?" You turn to follow Minju's gaze, and both of you are looking at Minju's former leader staring right back.

"She can't see us right?"

"No, she cannot."

"Okay, let's just wait till she leaves or something." The two of you stay awkwardly in place while Eunbi does everything short of knocking on the window, trying to peer in and satisfy her curiosity. Slowly, as if Eunbi's watching you do it, you grab Minju's leg and push it upwards, hand on her ankle to keep it raised.

"What are you doing!" Hastily she covers her mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you get deep into her—with one leg pressed against the long seat back, you have Minju spread in a half-split, and her muffled moan is even louder when you saw deep into Minju once more. Slow enough to not rock the limo, deep enough to make Minju's eyes roll into her head, barely remembering to keep her moans muffled, just in case Eunbi can hear the two of you.

Eunbi pauses as the limo stops rocking—did they notice her? Whatever, she picks up her phone to call Minju again.

*Brrrrr...*

"Mmm..." Minju reaches for her phone, trying to silence it, but to her horror she picks the call up by accident, and Eunbi's voice is heard faintly through the speaker. Minju slaps you weakly on the chest as you change it to speakerphone, directing her to respond.

"Minju yah?"

"O-Oh unnie!" She's tighter than ever around you, either from tension or from excitement. Grunting you pull out slowly, only to have Minju flap her hand in a panic to make you stop.

"Minju where are you? I thought we were meeting up before heading in?"

"Oh sorry unnie, I was going to tell you, but I think I caught something bad, I don't think I can make it today." Minju manages to respond just barely, the words squeezed out before she has to turn away and moan into the seat.

"Ah really? That's too bad! How do you feel? Should I bring you something?" You pull out almost the whole way before thrusting firmly back in, making Minju arch her back, biting her hand to suppress a cry. "Minju?"

"Ohhh... Oh unnie I feel fine. No need to bring me anything, I'm not sure if it's contagious." What is contagious is the pleasure spreading throughout Minju, making sure she feels more than fine. She's mouthing "No", but her pussy is saying yes as she clenches hard around you. "You should nngh... go ahead and enjoy the event, sorry unnie!"

"It sounds bad, make sure you get a lot of rest okay?"

"Sureunniethankyoubye!"

"What was that?" Eunbi asks out loud, puzzled by Minju's behavior. She doesn't get much time to think about it though as there's suddenly a knock on the limo window, drawing her attention again. The knock is persistent, and the limo seems to vibrate.

"No! Oh fuck wait, wait, wait!" Minju screams loudly as you start pounding her as soon as she hangs up, pushing her leg up against the window and fucking deep into her. Her foot knocks against the glass repeatedly, just as you knock against the entrance to her womb.

"She's right there! Right there, oh god... RIGHT THERE!" Minju explodes around you, groaning and drenching the seat in her juices—she jerks and trembles, her toes curling, her hands slapping the seat. A loud groan struggles to make its way through Minju, her entire body straining to keep your overstimulating rod out. Her hand is on your stomach, but you push forward, making her whine and gasp before you finally stop, lodging yourself inside her, even as her walls flutter, working through the last waves of pleasure around you.

"W-Why did you— Nngh..." Minju moans softly as you pull out.

"Because you got so tight talking to your unnie. You wanted to be found out didn't you?"

"No!"

"Sure, whatever you say, she's gone now anyways. Definitely got me excited, where do you want me to finish?" You kiss Minju's neck and hump her slowly, ready to go the moment she gives you her answer. She chuckles slightly before whispering in your ear.

"Inside is fine, I already made a mess all over your seat, the least I could do is let you make a mess in me." You start work on making a mess in, and of, Minju immediately. "Oh! Yes that's it!" You're stretching Minju out so much that she can't help but squeeze you. Minju feels the throbbing in her build up, and to her surprise her heart rate is going up as well—she's going to cum again!

"Mmmm!" Minju's clinging to you for dear life as you blow your load in her. She's shaking hard, and your hips move on their own volition, moving slower and slower, as if all the thick cum you're leaving in her is slowing you down more and more.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck that's good..." you gasp, pulling out, a rush of thick fluids leaking out of Minju and onto the seat. "Minju?" She's lying quietly on the seat, her entire body flushed pink. "Minju?"

"Huh? Oh umm..." Minju sits up weakly. "I'm good, it was great. Do you have some tissues or something?" You quickly throw on your clothes and head back to the driver's seat to rummage for tissues while she slowly gets herself upright—you were too deep in your own climax to notice, but Minju had joined you in orgasm, except she's never cum that quickly after the first one, and never that hard. Before today she would have been happy to find some hotshot from the event, get herself off, and call it a good night. Tonight though, she felt strangely unsatisfied and wanting more.

"Here you go."

"Oh, thanks." Minju wipes herself down, soaking the puddle of cum and juice between her legs with the tissues. She steps into the dress once more and pulls it up and finally— "Can you come back here?"

"I-I'm sorry?"

"I need your help with the dress." Right, of course. You join Minju in the back again, and silently zip it up for her. "Thank you."

"Of course." You return to the driver's seat, and the two of you sit in silence, the limo reeking of sex as you debated what to do next. "Should we umm, head back to the event now?"

"No. I already told Eunbi unnie I wouldn't be there. Let's just go back home." You nod silently and pull out of the parking spot. Minju is silent on the way back, debating with herself, desire and reason quarrelling in her head.

"We have arrived Miss Kim," you announce, pulling next to the elevator lobby in her building's parking lot.

"Oh, great, thank you. You should find a place to park."

"Oh, will you be going somewhere else after?"

"No, I would like you to come up. I'll be sure to leave my phone off, so we won't be disturbed. So why don't you find a place to park, and by the time you arrive I'll be in something more comfortable." Minju exits the limo and walks over to your window, motioning you to roll it down.

"If you're fast enough, maybe you'll catch me before I can put any clothes on."

"It's unlocked." You let yourself into Minju's apartment, and given that she's not meeting you, maybe you really were fast enough. You're fairly sure you've scratched the limo, but you'll pay for a whole new one if needed—Minju is the definition of "Worth it."

"Almost." Minju reads your mind, buttoning the last button on her top as she walks out of the bedroom. "But don't worry, you'll get to take it off soon." She moves closer to you, letting you wrap an arm around her midriff.

"What are we waiting for?" you ask, half-question and half-growl. Minju hushes you with a kiss, hands on your jacket tugging you through her apartment. She pulls your jacket off and pushes you on her bed, straddling you.

"For this, now I have you where I want."

"Yeah?" Your grab her by the hips and pull her down, making sure her short skirt rides up—she's still wearing her panties from earlier. "I have you where I want too."

"How perfect." Minju's kissing you again, but her hands are not idle, unbuttoning your shirt. "Now your turn." You reach for her top, and when the buttons are undone Minju shrugs it off her shoulders, revealing her pale skin, modest chest, and two stiff nubs.

"No bra?"

"Didn't have time, someone came up really fast."

"Lucky me," you murmur, taking the chance to cup and squeeze her tits, giving her a massage from the front.

"There'll be time for more of that later." Like in the limo Minju gets rid of her skirt and panties, and you're kicking off your own clothes too. "I want to ride you."

"Sure, you can be the driver." You smile and make a show of putting your hands behind your head, as if relaxing, but your eyes are glued to Minju's pussy, watching her grab you and... "Fuck!" A low curse escapes you as she splits herself open on you, taking you all the way and immediately wrapping all of your shaft in her warmth.

"Did I go a little too fast for my chauffeur?" She teases, but you felt Minju reel from the sudden stretch, the way her fingers dug into your arms immediately after, and oh how she has to take a deep breath now before saying anything else. "You must be too used to driving a slow car." You let Minju go unanswered for now.

"Perhaps, why don't you show me." You keep your hands behind your head, allowing Minju to lead. She plants her hands on your chest and starts rocking back and forth. You watch her gnaw her lower lip, her moans a mix of pleasure and pain—she's bitten off more than she can chew, but her pride and eagerness won't let her back off. The discomfort is only temporary as you feel her get wetter around you, and she starts riding you more smoothly.

"You like that? Oh fuck..." Minju can't help but add after her taunt. You do like it, and watching Minju's nude body rock on top of you is definitely worth whatever damage is on your limo. She jiggles and shakes, trying to fire seductive looks at you as she rides. But what you find hotter is how her expression melts every so often, when you shift your hips slightly or nudge upwards, hitting her extra deep and making her frown in pleasure. "How is it, hmm?" Minju asks, mistaking your silence as mute acknowledgement of her skill.

"Not bad. But you drive like you're driving an automatic, let me show you how to drive a stick." You sit up and hug Minju close, burying your face into her tits and sucking a stiff nipple. You lean forward further into her chest as your hands pull her hips towards you, forcing her to arch her back—this makes her near powerless in an instant, and she has to use her own arms for support against your legs.

"What are you— Nngh!" You start thrusting upwards slightly, and with Minju angled like this you hit her g-spot easily. She yelps on every thrust, her world spinning upside down as you bounce her on top of you. "Mm, mm, mm, mm, oh my god! Oh fuck! Right there, oh I'm cumming!" Minju clenches around you, and you push her through her orgasm, moving your hips in a grinding circle, driving Minju wild in manual. Her arms go weak, and she tips backwards on to the bed, hips bucking as you slip out of her.

"How was that?" you challenge, taking the opportunity to get on top of her.

"Good— Ah!" You're inside her again. Minju changes her approach. "You're so deep inside me, is that why you drive limos, because you're stretching me out sooooo much."

"Now that's a stretch of a joke." You chuckle, not rising to Minju's taunts. She doubles down though, kissing you deeply before hugging you close, leaving a hickey on your neck.

"It's not, you're stretching me out so much, no one's going to feel as good from now on." She wraps her long legs around you and pulls you in. "God it's like my pussy is your permanent parking spot now." You twitch inside her, and Minju smiles at that sensation. "Oh you'd like that wouldn't you? Me coming to you every time I want to get off? Giving you a place where you can park your cum?" As she says it Minju gets more and more aroused—she wouldn't mind that at all, not with how good she feels now and in the car earlier. Unconsciously she tightens around you, making you moan.

"Fuck you feel so good!" The bedsprings creak as they try to push Minju deeper on to you from below. "Shit I'm going to cum!"

"Wait, not in here!"

"Fine I'll pull out!" You start thrusting faster, but Minju hurriedly smacks you on the chest.

"Bathroom, now!" Next thing you know you've pressed Minju against the glass wall of her shower, kissing her as you lift a leg and enter her again.

"Cum in me, just didn't want to make a mess on my bed."

"Oh, so it's okay to dirty my leather seats, but not your bed?"

"You can cum in me here, or we can go back to the bed and you can cum on me, your choice." Minju challenges, wrapping the leg around your hip to let you know which she preferred.

"Fine." You grab Minju by the wrists, pinning her at 3 points against the wall—wrist, wrist, pussy. Despite the slight interruption of getting to the bathroom you're back on the road to your peak, going faster—from the bruises on Minju you see afterwards it might even be reckless. 

"Fuck, right there!" But right now she encourages it, bucking best she can, throwing her hips into yours. "Are you cumming soon? You're going to make me cum with you again, mmm!" You grab Minju by her hair, tiling her head back to look at her.

"Is that why you felt so good?" Minju can only moan in response, shuddering as her first orgasmic contraction grips her and you. "Fuck that's it, it's like your pussy wants to suck all the cum out of me!" You slam her even harder into the glass wall, your own pleasure building fast. Your blood's pumping, drowning out her cries. The "Check Engine" light is blinking in the form of Minju's fluttering eyelids, but you keep the pedal pressed down, burning through the rest of your tank and revving both of you to even louder roars of pleasure.

And then it happens.

Minju's jaw drops, you crash into her one last time, and the most exquisite of tugs from Minju ends you. You fire thick white lines of cum into her, painting your own personal parking spot in the cum park that is Minju's pussy. You explode, rupturing and spilling everything into her womb. The dying sputters of your engine force you to hump up into her, making both of you gasp and grunt until you finally stop. Her low moans and sighs flood your ear—mindlessly she caresses your cheek, kissing you passionately, a woman thoroughly satisfied as she leaks your white "oil" all around your shaft. You slip out, and the heavy splatters of dripping seed echo in the now quiet bathroom.

"Wow."

"Ow." Minju winces as you hold her by the waist. "Wait don't let go, I can't stand." You hug Minju higher up, pressing her chest to yours as she sighs and waits for her strength to return.

"Sorry, did I go too hard?"

"No, you just feel good. As far as the pain." Minju reaches behind, frowning as she touches her lower back. "I blame the wall," she laughs and quips into your neck.

"Told you we should've just stayed in bed."

"Unless you're offering to do my laundry, I get to choose." The two of you share an intimate moment in the shower, getting clean with a quick rinse, but never losing contact with one another.

"We're still good right?" Minju asks as you throw on your jacket, recognizing that it's time for tonight to end.

"What do you mean?"

"If I need a driver next time, you'll still be available? It won't always lead to... this though."

"Of course, my job is to drive. I don't expect anything more than the usual pay."

A few weeks later and after a few requests from Minju that don't lead to anything more, you get another job from her. You're asked to go upstairs, so you do so.

"Hello Miss Kim."

"Just call me Minju already. Come hold my dress for me? Don't zip it up yet." Minju makes a show of adjusting her makeup.

"It's a very nice dress, when is the event? I can take a more scenic route if we want to be late." Before you know it Minju steps away from you, and with you holding the dress it slides off her easily—Minju's fully naked as she turns to face you.

"The event's tomorrow, so I'm afraid I can't pay you for today."

"We can figure something out."

A/N: Had this car sex idea in my head for a long time, finally got around to writing it. Helps that Minju has had more pretty dress outfits since then lol, hope you like it! Thank you for reading.

[bebe-writes-stuff]

Baji x reader smut

I'm not even gonna lie, after i saw this panel, I COULD NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT BAJI, BRO LOOKKKK

HE PICKED THAT THANG UPPP, w one hand is crazyyy.

..

"Remind me why we're here again, Kei?" you asked, stifling a yawn in mid-sentence.

Baji rolled his eyes for what seemed like the billionth time. "I already told you, Y/N, Mom wanted me to run out and get some groceries."

"Ah, I remember now. But, last time I checked, that sounded like a YOU problem," you retorted, causing him to frown.

"You know, you should really stop being an ass," he commented, picking up some fresh vegetables and placing them in the shopping basket.

"Huh, you literally dragged me out of bed in the middle of the day to come with you! I was sleeping! You're the ass," you whispered, trying to keep your voice down as a few shoppers glanced your way.

"Tch, whatever. I didn't want to come here on my own. It's more fun with you," he pouted, his tone softening.

Feeling a pang of guilt almost instantly, you wrapped your hands around his arm. "Aww, look at you being adorable," you teased, your voice laced with affection.

His face flushed a light pink, and he mumbled, "You're so corny." Despite his words, he pulled you closer to him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

As you both continued through the aisles, you noticed how he carefully selected each item, making sure to get exactly what his mom needed. There was something endearing about his dedication, even if it was just for a simple grocery run.

Eventually, you made your way to the checkout counter. The cashier scanned the items while you and Baji exchanged playful glances and whispered jokes. When everything was bagged up and paid for, the two of you headed towards the exit, arms full of grocery bags.

Stepping outside, you both breathed in the fresh air. "Finally," you sighed, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face.

As you walked, you suddenly noticed that Baji was still carrying the shopping basket. "Uh, Kei, we still have the basket."

He looked down and groaned. "Fuck me. I'll take it back. You wait here."

You nodded, watching as he turned back towards the store. Leaning against a building, you pulled out your phone to pass the time. Moments later, a group of kids your age approached, their eyes lighting up with recognition.

"Hey, isn't that Baji's girlfriend?" one of them sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.

Before you could respond, they started crowding around you, their taunts growing bolder. "What's it like dating a thug?" one asked, while another added, "Bet he drags you into all kinds of trouble."

"Fuck off," you snapped, trying to keep your voice steady. "You don't know anything about us."

"Oh, feisty," one of them laughed, stepping closer. "Let's see how you are without your boyfriend around."

Just as you were about to defend yourself, Baji was back, his eyes blazing with fury. In an instant, he was on them, fists flying with brutal precision. They didn't stand a chance. They were on the ground, groaning in pain, before they even knew what hit them.

Breathing heavily, Baji finally stepped back, his knuckles bloodied. He turned to you, his expression a mix of rage and regret. "Let's go," he said, his voice tight.

The walk back to his house was silent. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his usually confident stride stiff with anger. When you arrived, he handed the groceries to his mom without a word and headed straight to his room. You followed, closing the door behind you.

Inside, Baji sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have let that happen."

"It's not your fault," you said softly, sitting next to him. "They were out of line."

He shook his head, his jaw clenched. "I dragged you out there. I should've protected you."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I'm not hurt, Kei. I'm right here."

Baji pulled you closer, almost onto his lap, his eyes dark with a mix of emotions. Without another word, he captured your lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. His anger from earlier seemed to fuel the intensity, his lips pressing hard against yours as his hands threaded into your hair, pulling you even closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his fingers tugged at your hair, sending shivers down your spine.

You moaned into the kiss, your hands clutching at his shirt as you tried to keep up with his fervor. His hands roamed your body, one sliding down to your waist while the other moved to grope your chest, making you gasp. The sound seemed to encourage him, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with possessive fervor.

Finally, he broke the kiss, both of you panting for breath. His dark eyes locked onto yours, his voice low and husky as he spoke. "I'm going to mark you, Y/N. So everyone knows you belong to me."

Before you could respond, he leaned in and sank his teeth into your neck, the sharp sensation making you yelp. He soothed the sting with his tongue, trailing kisses along your neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of love marks in his wake. You bit your lip, trying to stifle your moans, knowing his mom was just downstairs.

"Kei," you whispered, your voice trembling with both pleasure and concern. "Your mom..."

"Shh," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. "Just try to be quiet."

His lips moved from your neck to your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice rough with desire, "I can't get enough of you."

You shifted slightly on his lap, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the movement only made you more aware of how hard he was. A soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it, causing Baji to pause and look up at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"What's wrong?" he teased, his hands sliding under your shirt to caress your bare skin. "Does it feel good?"

You nodded, closing your eyes, surrendering to the sensations. Baji's hands slid lower, tracing the waistband of your jeans before slipping inside, his fingers brushing against your wet folds, before finally pushing them inside your tight cunt. You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily, and he took that as encouragement, his fingers moving with deliberate, torturous slowness.

"Kei," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please…"

He groaned softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I love hearing you beg," he murmured, his fingers picking up speed, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure. "You're so beautiful when you're desperate for me."

--ALRIGHT THATS ENOUGH, I'll probably make a part 2 and continue this bcs I like where this went ngl, let me know if yall liked it --

[angeliteeyes]

Okay, so can we get a follow-up up for Madam Herta with Oni S/O? Like basically how the relationship actually starts and everyone's reaction to it. Since they're kinda opposites personality wise. Honestly, I'd kinda like it if S/O met Acheron and they have a moment of "I'm not the only survivior type beat." I love it even more if they're siblings with Acheron being the older sister~

Hello!!! Nice to hear from you again 💜

Funny you bring up Acheron being their older sister, I actually also planned for them to be siblings and to draw them together for you! (　＾ω＾) but that's for another time. For now...

Herta x Oni Reader - How You Begin Dating

-> Masterlist with all Herta x Oni works

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

To the rest of the space station's passengers, you were the bane of their existence. Every day with you aboard inevitably brought chaotic antics and countless pranks, followed closely by the sound of familiar laughter behind them. In other words, you were a problem.

Which is exactly why Herta likes you so much.

"Madam Herta, please understand. That Oni causes nothing but trouble here. We need you to do something about her!"

You rush to hide yourself behind the wall nearby. Next to Herta was one of the scientists, begging for her to take action against you. Honestly, it hurt a little. What was so wrong about having a little fun while she's keeping you stuck here? You hadn't even used electricity on the power panel since your first day sneaking in.

"Hm. So what you're saying is that you're too weak-willed to overcome a simple obstacle in your line of work. Is that right?" Although her face is angled away from you, it's easy to imagine the cold, stern expression she must be wearing. You've seen it plenty of times before during her "you've crossed the line" post-prank lectures.

"No, that's not—"

"You're fired." A silence fills the room as the scientist stares blankly at Herta. "Go on, leave. I won't tolerate an employee with such a wimpy, pathetic attitude."

Their mouth opens and shuts several times, trying and failing to find words to say back. Ultimately, they leave without a word. Herta remains where she stands in the center of the room, eerily still.

"And how long does said trouble plan on hiding from me? I know you're there." Ah, darn. You sheepishly poke your head out from the coverage in response, rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment.

Ever since she outsmarted you and refused to let you leave the station, you couldn't help but try to avoid her outside of her required "study sessions" with you. It's not that you dislike her or anything. If anything, you'd grown rather fond of her and how entertaining she was. It's just... a bit embarrassing. You, the great Masked Fool, defeated by her? Actually—it's not that surprising, but still.

"Sorry about that, Herta. It's kinda hard to walk in when someone's insulting you, yknow? She hums in response.

"Pay no mind to that person. They're hardly worth your time anyway. More importantly" — she reaches out to rub the base of your horns — "I've prepared a test for you." Your body squirms from her touch. It feels wonderful, but you'd never tell her that.

"Mmm... I'm sleepy though. Can't it wait?" You whine at her, but to no avail.

"No more complaining, you little brat. Besides, this one should be rather easy for you—that is, if my assessment is correct. Which it is, obviously." Her hands glide down to cup your face, pressing your cheeks in on both sides.

"Your test starts now. Better get running along now, alright? Go and have some fun like you always do."

Herta walks away from you, blatantly ignoring your confusion and yelling for her to come back. You groan out of frustration. Her desire to follow any and every whimsy of hers wasn't exactly new to you, but it still managed to catch you off guard from time to time.

"What the heck is she on about this time? Ugh, whatever. I'm hungry."

Deciding to ignore her declaration for the time being, you head on over to the cafeteria nearby. Surprisingly, you got along with the food staff rather well, and even received extra fruit from them often. The reasoning as to why eludes you.

"Hey guys! What's on the menu today?" You raise your hand up to greet the head chef, a cheeky older lady. You have a sneaking suspicion she's the one that piles up your plate so high.

"Why, hello dearie. Actually, Miss Herta told me to give you this. She said you'd understand what it meant?" Confused, you shift your vision down to the object she was holding. It was a... key? You reach your hand out to take it, rolling it around to inspect it further. Yep, definitely a key, but what for? You sigh. Guess that's where the test part comes in.

You wander around the space station, searching high and low for any suspicious objects.

Nothing here, not this room, nope, nuh uh...

At your wit's end, you storm off towards where Herta headed off to earlier, hoping to find some answers. Inside, you find the one and only genius sprawled on top of one of the couches.

"Impressive. My calculations predicted that you'd give up and run over to me approximately two minutes earlier than you did. Looks like I have more research to do." Her eyes narrow as she smirks upwards at you.

"Yeah yeah, big deal. So what, did I pass the test? I got the key like you wanted." You took it out of your pocket to show her. She casually stretches her limbs out like a cat before making her way over.

"Patience, dear. Your test hasn't even started yet." With a smirk, she gently pulls at your waist to guide you forward. Her hands rest on your sides the entire way, until you eventually reach a corner of the room. Now that it's closer, you can clearly see a large metal safe, protected by a lock.

"This box here contains something I think you might like." Her hand trails across your dominant arm, before pivoting to holding your hand. You gulp, key tightly grasped. She then positions your hand directly in front of the lock, expressing her intent.

"Within this box is a special teleportation device that can take you to wherever in the galaxy you choose to be. In other words... you could leave." Her breath presses gently on your ear. "So, my dear Oni, what's your choice? Will you take this chance to travel the world and leave this station?"

An unspoken third question lingers in the silence.

Your body buzzes with excitement. Literally, since your lightning powers are acting up. Oh, man... You'd get to be with Sparkle once again, instead of simply messaging her. You could bask in the warm glow of the sun, racing along the streets as law enforcers chased after you. You could have your normal life back, all from one insignificant flick of the wrist. You begin to giggle to yourself.

But then you see her. The woman who turned your world upside down in a matter of seconds. The one who'd essentially offered you her own space station as a playground under the guise of imprisonment. The one who defended you against any harsh remarks that came your way.

To any other person gazing at Herta, she'd look largely the same in this moment as any other. Cold, uncaring, removed. But you knew better than them. Behind her icy exterior lay a hidden vulnerability, covering itself in a blanket of snow and frost. It stared at you, beckoning you. It whimpered in a hushed voice at you, calling out for an answer.

Will you stay?

"Herta..." Your gaze softens at the weight of her proposition. Yes, you want with all of your being to explore the world outside, but this... This just wasn't right. After all of your late nights together filled with laughter and light-hearted bickering, the times when your lips hovered dangerously close... No. You wouldn't—couldn't—abandon her.

"I think you forgot something."

Her expression shifts slightly. "And whatever would that be?"

You angle your body to face her, inching closer to her, then—

"There's another keyhole right here!" You shove your clenched fist forward, aiming for the center of her chest. Herta freezes for several seconds as the cold metal presses into her exposed skin.

"...Pfft." Herta bursts into a maniacal fit of laughter. Tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes as she clenches her stomach and bends forward. Before long, your laughter mixes in with hers.

After many minutes pass, she gains enough composure to remain upright. She lifts a finger to dry her eye, sighing. "Even I didn't expect this kind of outcome. You really are something special, aren't you?" Herta, looking gleeful and warm, grabs your hands.

"You passed the test. As a reward, you have earned the right to become my life partner. Oh, and you may use the teleporter as much as you please—so long as you return back to me." Still swept up in the moment, it takes you a little to process her exact words.

"Life partner? Isn't that just marriage?" She hums.

"Don't sweat the details. You do want to be with me forever, yes? Why else reject such a generous offer, except if you became infatuated with my beauty?" As her hands pressed into her hips, you couldn't help but laugh.

"Guess I really am a fool, after all."

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

Bonus: Sparkle's reaction

Sparkle

(You can't be serious. I've been working my butt off to figure out a plan to sneak you out... and here you are smooching her??)

(Meh, whatever. I'll just use the fireworks to snatch some goodies or something! See you soon (ФωФ))

[greensagephase]

🤭

Hiii, Lara pooks!! 🥰 I’m finally answering this ask that’s also been in my inbox since December (I’m sorry).

Not one, not two, but THREE works! I’m honored! May I say that the first one made me giggle because of how sassy he is? “Ya. The only problem? It’s a shitty plan!” I love this sassy mafia man! Also, God, he looks so good while telling whoever he’s talking to about their bad plan.

Okay, so when I first saw this ask, the second drawing on the bottom half of the first panel got me like??? 👀👀 Because I had noticed the green eyes in the previous ask from the half of the drawing comparing 25yr old and 35yr old Miguel. When I first saw the first ask, I thought maybe you were playing around with the eye color (green), and then you dropped this ask and I was like, “WAIT! This is actually a thing” when I saw that this Miguel has green eyes. And now you’ve revealed that he discovered rapture (in the latest ask you’ve sent, which I have yet to answer. I’m so behind with notifications🫠), so now I have questions that hopefully you’ll answer in future art! So, 25-year-old Miguel was working at a lab and he discovered rapture… And that’s why now in his mafia era, Miguel has green eyes! Did he take it willingly, or did something go wrong? And if he did take it willingly, why? How did he go from a geneticist to a mafia don? I have questions, Lara, and I hope we learn more in the future! 😭 🙏🏼

Also, I love the second panel so much! I love how I can tell 35-year-old Miguel looks so much more mature, not only by the white streaks of hair, but also in his face lines. Mwah! I loved that detail, and I need 35-year-old Miguel in my life, like yesterday, please!

I’m not gonna lie, the last panel had me barki- I mean, screaming! The way he’s sitting there, so powerful and handsome? Bout to ask if his lap is taken, or if I may take a seat. 😩 The hair? Sir, please, let me just run my fingers through it! Also! I hadn’t noticed mans has a scar on his eyebrow?! It’s only because of this colored drawing that I realize it’s a scar, and not like, something he decided to do to his eyebrow for himself (you know how some people specifically shave a line off?). Now I’m curious how he got it! Was it Kira? 🤭 Also, the way the light makes his eyes look so pretty?? I wanna gaze into them forever. 🥺

Aughhhh, Lara! Your art! You’re always cooking, and I thank you for that and also for continuing to share your OC and variant Miguel’s lore. It always inspires me to work more on my own, but I never do lol. 💀Maybe in the future! But, thank you once again for sharing your art with me! 🥹 I’m going to hopefully answer the rest of your asks this week. I was hoping to answer more this weekend, but I started feeling under the weather on Saturday. Anyway, feeling alright now, so I should be able to answer my asks and catch up.

I hope you had a wonderful weekend, pooks!💖

Alondra❤️

[marlynnofmany]

Other Uses for Packaging

I waved goodbye to the customers — other humans this time — then sat back and waited for the trash pickup. I didn’t blame them for not wanting to take all the packing material out into the spaceport. They hadn’t brought a hovercart or forklift, and had been unprepared for the huge crate full of bubble wrap and foam.

Other times, our little courier ship had done deliveries where time was short or regulations were tight, and all we would have been able to do was advise them on where to rent a hovercart or buy a crowbar. Luckily for these customers’ convenience and my conscience, today we could stick around and help them unpack the custom end table or whatever that was.

They’d left happy, with something much easier to carry, and Captain Sunlight had headed for the cockpit to call in the station’s trash crew. (Apparently this was a regular feature at this space dock, which was a nice change from the last few where we’d had to move the ship’s garbage over to the trash area under our own power.)

Zhee looked over the crate that he’d just taken great joy in disassembling. “Wood may be valuable here,” he said with a thoughtful click of a pincher arm. “If not to the station at large, then surely to another ship. I wonder if the captain thought of that.”

I glanced back at the open cargo bay. “Probably?”

“Probably,” Zhee agreed.

We were both silent for a moment while the spaceport bustled around us.

“I’m going to check,” he said, tapping his way up the ramp on his many bug feet. “Make sure none of that blows away.”

“Sure thing.” I looked at the piles. The only breeze in here was the faint wafting of ventilation systems and the occasional gentle landing of other ships at a safe distance, but I understood the impulse to be careful. That one package awhile ago, full of styrofoam beads, had been memorable. And terrible. The darn stuff was almost as bad as glitter, what with the way it stuck to things with static electricity. Nobody wanted a repeat of that.

This set of packaging was much better. The boards made a tidy stack, the foam was in rubbery sheets that didn’t leak bits everywhere, and even the bubble wrap was in long rows instead of individual panels. This was no top-of-the-line cryo suspension or force field generator, but it was respectable.

I organized the mess a bit while I waited. The rest of the crew either had stuff to do on the ship or out in the station, so despite all the ambient noise, things were quiet.

I started rolling up the bubble wrap, thinking someone might want to use it again, but found that many of the bubbles had gotten popped in the disassembly, leaving it only good for one thing.

The first bubble popped with a satisfying snap. By the third I’d pinpointed which direction the sounds were echoing from most, and I enjoyed the different noises I could get by tilting my head. None of the pedestrians were close enough to pay much attention, so I happily worked my way down the roll. I’d seen multiple other types of bubble wrap, some made by different cultures and different materials, and most of them didn’t actually pop. What a simple joy to find the regular old Earth kind again.

Mur’s voice from the cargo bay asked, “What’s making that sound?”

I sighed and turned. “Don’t tell me, this is another swear word in your language.”

Mur waved a tentacle. “No, of course not. I just wanted to know what’s breaking out here. It sounded like a problem.”

Before I could answer, Paint appeared behind him in a rush. “Is there a problem??”

“No,” I hurried to say. “Everything’s fine. It’s just bubble wrap. See?” I held up the section I’d been working on and popped another bubble.

Paint winced. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“No, it’s just garbage.” I rolled up the part I’d already flattened, then twisted it to pop the next row all at once.

“Okay, that almost sounded like a swear word,” Mur admitted.

I had to laugh at that. “Of course it did.”

Blip and Blop hurried out to join the growing crowd in the cargo bay. “What keeps breaking?” Blip asked, frills waving anxiously.

“It’s just bubble wrap!” I exclaimed. “See?” I held it up and popped another one.

Instead of nodding and going back to whatever they’d been doing, my alien coworkers remained perplexed. “Why does it keep popping?” Blop asked. “Are you doing that?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed.

“Why?” asked both Frillians at once. Paint and Mur also looked curious.

“Because it’s fun?” I replied, scrambling for an answer. I hadn’t thought this needed explaining. But apparently it did.

Paint asked, “How is that noise fun?”

“Well, it echoes—”

“You don’t need to worry about condensing materials for the trash pickup, if that’s the concern,” Mur said.

“Yes, I know—”

“Are there food items on your planet that you have to open like this?” Blip asked. “Large fish eggs, maybe?”

“No, ew! It’s just—”

A shadow loomed taller than the Frillian twins. “It is violensssss,” Trrili hissed, making them twitch. (I don’t know how she found a shadow in the cargo bay. Sometimes I think she brings them with her.) “Small-scale, sanctioned violence. These can be destroyed without repurcussionssssss.” She was choosing which words to hiss on, for effect.

“Sure,” I said, spreading my arms and lifting the bubble wrap. “Let’s go with that.”

Trrili wasn’t done. “Each tiny section can be crusssshed individually, with precision, or multiples at once for maximum volume.” She glided forward on quieter feet than Zhee’s, and the others made room for her.

I held out the bubble wrap. “You want a turn?” Her pincher arms didn’t seem suited to it, but I was curious to see where she’d go with this.

“Plasssssse it on the floor.”

“Sure.” I flapped the row out in front of her like a red carpet, and she moved like the predator she was to crush one after the other. With precision. And shiny black bug feet.

It gave me an idea. “Hey, wanna see who’s faster?” I grabbed another section and laid it out to one side. “You’ve got more feet, but my shoes are bigger.”

Trrili spread her mandibles in her favorite creepy smile. “Challenge acssssssepted.” She crouched like a spider and waited for me to be ready.

I glanced back at the others. “Anybody else wanna race?”

Mur spun on his tentacles and scooted back into the ship. “No thanks! I’m going back where it’s quieter.”

“Me too,” Paint said. “But thank you!” She scampered off.

Blip and Blop looked at each other in silence for a moment, fins waving. Then they turned to me. “We’ll judge,” Blip announced.

“All right!” I said. I wrangled my own section of bubble wrap, roughly the same length as Trrili’s, and struck my own ready pose. “Say when!”

The twins chorused, “Start!” and we were off. Pops filled the air along with Trrili’s delighted hisses and my laughter. There were probably people staring, but that didn’t matter.

Maybe I could talk Trrili into a dance-off afterward. On whatever was left when one of us was declared the champion of small-scale, sanctioned violence.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 5

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas, discussion of money/finances.* Financial disparity, a well intentioned surprise, fluff, friends, flirting with your spouse. Summary: Javi solves a problem with a grandiose surprise, and you're not sure how you feel about it at first. Notes: After a brief hiatus we are back! My laptop has been replaced and we should be smooth sailing from here. Happy Sunday, my lovelies!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

Thursday, May 1, 2025 

"Mrs. G, can we get you on set please?" The production assistant that works with Javi to make sure he has everything he needs and is wherever he needs to be has also been assigned to you in the month since work on the film started. Luckily Kyle is a nice kid and enthusiastic, and doesn't mind that he reliably has to knock loudly to make sure he doesn't walk in on the newlyweds in some sort of state of passion. 

"Sure, honey."

Javi has been on set for a little while already so you pocket your phone and hop up from your chair to head inside. The schedule for today has them shooting in just one room, but it's the main character's bedroom and the scene is the first of the clandestine love affair that is being shot. It makes sense that Tamara and Jason might have historical context questions. 

The halls of the great house are lined with rolls of cardboard – RAM board, they call it – to protect the precious antique wood and easily scratch floors. Whole pieces of the architecture like columns are wrapped up in it to shoulder height, and while the look of it was odd and off putting at first, it's familiar now. Like Hazelwood House has been wrapped up in a sort of temporary blanket to keep it safe. 

Up to the second floor and into the south wing of the house, you find Javi sitting with the two actors on an armchair and chaise lounge by the fireplace, staring at the footed panel in front of it. It still jars you to see the cast lounging on exact replicas of Hazelwood's furniture, but it's only because the museum rules (No touching!) have combined with a slight jealousy in your head. The furniture in this house really is fantastic.

“Sweetheart.” As soon as you come into the room, Javi is lighting up, his eyes widen with sparkling happiness as he quickly stands. Moving towards you to meet you halfway in the room, although he refrains from kissing you since he had been told you might not like it at work. “Hey handsome.” Even murmured softly into the air between you as Javi wraps his arms around you for a quick hug, you feel a little more relaxed just being in the same place as him. “You called and I came. How can I help?”

“We have a question about the fireplace.” Even if he doesn’t kiss you, his fingers caress your wrist lovingly as he turns you towards the object in question. “What is this and why is it here?” He asks, pointing to a wood and fabric screen that could not be utilized while there is a fire crackling in the hearth. While Hazelwood has been extremely accommodating, there was to be no real fires in the hearths due to some of the chimneys being blocked off and the risk of an out of control fire being too great. All of the fires would be added by CGI in post production but Javi had noticed the screens still in front of the hearth and needed to know if they would risk it during a fire or if it would be moved and what purpose it served.

"That is a fire screen." The warm radiance of him standing next to you is a fire unto itself and it's a pity you're on set instead of in your shared trailer so you can't melt into him.

"Like...for embers?" Jason asks, brow furrowed. "But it's wood." 

"And cloth!" Tamara objects. 

"I know." You manage to stifle a laugh, but you had the same thought the first time you saw them. "It's technically the predecessor to today's metal fire screens. In function, it's the same. But the main focus here was in keeping direct flame off of people's faces." Shrugging slightly at how silly it might sound to a modern person is the best you can do. "Being flush from the fire or getting any kind of color was looked down on. The paler your complexion, the more obvious it is that you don't have to work or exert yourself in any way."

“So warming the room but not over exposing them to the flames.” Javi frowns slightly. “So they would have the fire going and having the screen in front of it?” He asks, tilting his head towards you for the answer. “We want to make sure we get the shot right.”

"If you want the shot without the screen in place, there could be a throwaway remark about Tamara being flush?" You suggest, chewing your lip as you tilt your head up at him.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Javi looks between the principal cast and then over at the director. “Do you?”

"Screen will be better without live flames." The director hums after a minute of thinking. "Won't have to work as hard on manufacturing the look of the fire. We'll keep the screen."

Javi smiles as he looks back at you. “Thank you for your expertise.” He hums, reaching for your hand to kiss the back of it.

"Do you mind if I stay to watch?" The filming process is slow but fascinating to you, and these people – with the small exceptions of the egotistical producers and snobbish director – are very fun to spend time with. It's much more fun to be here on set even with the slow progress, than it is to be in your trailer.

Javi is immediately nodding. “Yes.” He agrees, knowing that no one will argue with him. He’s had carte blanche on set, especially after making some re-writes that everyone swears will clench the Oscars in multiple categories.

"Yes I can stay?" You melt into a soft smile and wish that the aforementioned snobby director weren't in the room so you could kiss him. "Thank you. I'd much rather be here."

He smiles and squeezes your hand. “You can be wherever I am.” He promises, not caring if the director would rather you not be on set. He’s a little stiff and Javi can tell he doesn’t exactly approve of your soulmate status for whatever reason, but he doesn’t care.

"Come sit!" Tamara pats the chaise lounge beside her immediately. Since everything that happened on that first day, she's been an eager and bubbly friend. "We might need you for something else."

Javi smirks as he lets go of your hand so you can sit down next to your friend. “Did you run your errand like you needed?” He asks you, knowing you had been wanting to take care of something.

"I did." Though it wasn't exactly fun or easy. "The bus was running a little late but I managed to get everything done and sent off my sister's birthday present." You may not be close, but she's still your sister.

“You did not take the car?” Javi frowns immediately at you, sure that he had given you his keys before rushing off to the set this morning.

"I'm okay with the bus while my car is in the shop," you promise him. "And the car from the studio always brings you home, so there was no need to worry about that." Having a driver is a very helpful convenience, especially for Javi who likes to use the drive to prepare for the work day. Since your car has been in the shop for three days now, you've just been going to and from the studio with him, but this morning you needed to get to the post office. He had handed you the keys to his luxury sports car like it was nothing, but the mere thought of anything happening to the expensive automobile had you using a bus pass instead.

He’s not happy with your answer, and Tamara and Jason both grin as they watch the interaction between you. “Honey, what’s wrong with your car?” She huffs, hoping to distract.

"So far?" You let out a huff of a laugh. The director has gone to get a cup of coffee so you have a little time to breathe. "The engine. Just...in general."

Javi opens his mouth and then closes it. Deciding that he will take care of things and pulls out his phone.

Seeing your husband duck behind his phone with a look of concentration isn't unusual, so you pay it no mind and keep chatting lightly with Tamara. The cast had invited you and Javi to join them for drinks after shooting on Friday night and you're excited to go.

Javi doesn’t look up from his phone until the director comes back. “Clear the set.” He calls out and Javi pops up out of his chair. “Let’s go watch from the sidelines.”

There are a half dozen chairs set up in the hall behind the camera monitors for watching, and one of them bears Javi’s name. You hop up into the one beside him to hold his hand during the rehearsal of the scene before it gets filmed. “Everything okay, love?” You ask, not wanting to pry about whatever he was doing on his phone but still checking in.

“Perfect.” Javi tells you, looking over at you with a giddy smile. “Just taking care of something.”

“Something exciting?” You guess, but leave it at that.

“I think so, but it might be a little boring.” He admits with a chuckle. “We will see tomorrow.”

“Nothing you do is ever boring.” Surprising, frequently, and often lovely. But never boring.

“You would be surprised.” He grins proudly, squeezing your hand and the lifting it to kiss the back of it right as the director yells “Action!”

The scene is full of tension, but it has to be done angle by angle so the many takes come one after another in slow succession. Nothing seems to be done quickly in the movie industry, that's been obvious to you since day one.

He sees you shift in your chair and he leans over. “It can be so boring at times.” He murmurs in your ear. “I asked Nick how he doesn’t scream sometimes with so many takes.”

"I think it's fascinating," you admit, whispering back to make sure you don't disturb anything. "Watching how one gesture or a change of inflection can transform the whole scene? It's stunning."

He chuckles and hums softly, loving how you are enjoying yourself as you watch them reset the scene again. “Sometimes art takes time to perfect.” He admits. “First takes are like rough drafts.”

“Like the muslin before a gown.” In the days that you had dreamed of designing clothes, those rough muslin forms had been such loving work on the floor of your bedroom at home.

He tilts his head and tries to understand what you are meaning. “Muslin? The fabric that they used for undergarments?”

You nod, somehow managing to keep the giggle out of your voice so it won’t carry. “I was taught to design clothing by making a muslin form first. Like a rough draft. To make sure the design works before cutting into the expensive fabric and whatnot.”

“You make clothes?” That’s a new fun fact he didn’t know about you and he lights up as he memorizes it. “So that is why you have been the in costume trailer a lot?”

“I used to.” The light in your eyes dims ever so slightly, but you keep smiling. He doesn’t know all the ways that your art was taken from you. Piece by piece.

“Why did you stop?” He frowns, sensing the way there is a shift in your mood. It’s slight, but your hand stiffens in his.

“My parents,” you tell him, honestly despite it being harsh. “My step-dad convinced my mom that art school was pointless. So they refused to pay for it. I ended up studying history instead.” Which has worked out for you, obviously, and you do love it. But if you had been able to study fashion the way you wanted? Maybe you would be a textiles conservator or a costumer for a living history museum by now. Who knows?

“That is not right.” Javi immediately defends you. “You should have been able to study whatever you wished.” He feels passionately about that, since he was also shoehorned into a role he didn’t not want in his own family.

"Well, I agree, but there's nothing we can do about it now." The best you can do is shrug, having put the dream aside a long time ago. Maybe one of these days you'll look into getting a second-hand or lower end sewing machine. Make yourself a few things, or even make them as gifts. Javi would probably jump so far into the idea that he'd suggest one of the rooms in your now-oft-dreamt-about future house be a sewing room. He's very sweet like that. Maybe you'll ask for your birthday, but that's in the future.

He is about to suggest that you go back to school, but he doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s hoping you quit your job. Selfishly, he likes having you right here every day. “Maybe one day you can show me what you’ve designed?”

"Maybe..." You nudge his shoulder slightly, cheeks warm from the compliment of his interest. "I'll dig out my old sketchbooks tonight? If you really want to see."

“Yes.” Javi immediately answers, grinning when you giggle slightly. “I want to see all of them. Do you have them at the cottage or do we need to go back to your apartment?” The move has been day by day, you deciding what you want to do with your furniture but your most pressing items already in the cottage alongside his own.

"We should stop at the cottage on the way home, if that's okay?" As usual, the studio's driver will be taking you, but he never seems to mind making a small detour before leaving Santa Barbara. The ride back down the coast to the house – or cottage, as Javi calls it – is always a nice way to relax together after a work day.

“Absolutely.” He nods and smiles. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

"Maybe I can cook tonight?" He often likes to go out or have something delivered, and that's lovely. But tonight you like the idea of having a domestic night at home with your husband. After all, it's not like you lack for groceries. Or anything.

“Do you need anything?” He immediately wonders which is the closest store to the cottage, or if you would prefer one near your old apartment.

"We have a full kitchen, love." You promise him with a kiss to his cheek. "I already know what I'm going to make."

“I thought that was all the charcuterie items you wanted for the dinner with Nick and Olivia?” He had been warned away from the fridge drawers, making him pout as he searched for late night snacks.

"There is more than just snacks, my love." He had simply bypassed the steaks, brussels sprouts, potatoes, and assorted other ingredients in the kitchen because he isn't very interested in cooking just in general. That's perfectly fine, of course, but it means warning him off the things he can snack on without cooking them if you've bought them for a particular reason.

“Oh.” He rolls his eyes at himself and nods. “Only if you want to cook.” He hums. “You might be tired after work.”

In truth, it amounts to wanting to do something sweet for him because he does so much for you. Javi gives and gives and takes pride in it, but even with the generous pay from the studio your income doesn't come close to his. 

Do you share bank accounts now? Of course. He had a credit card opened on his account in your name. But so far you've only used it for groceries or household necessities. Anything else feels...greedy. 

"I won't be, mi amor," you promise him, setting those thoughts aside and resolving to make a nice dinner for you and your soulmate.

“We should build one of those kitchen outdoors.” He mentions causally, as if he’s talking about a simple weekend project. “Since you like to cook. I’ve seen some amazing ones. We could have it next to the pool.” The pool is currently being dug next to the cottage. In front of it actually. Wanting you to swim whenever you want, it’s now become a priority.

"We could definitely do that." In between takes now, you no longer have to whisper. At least for a short time. And that means you lean a little more into Javi's side and breathe a happy sigh. "It would be great for parties."

“Good!” He has expected you to huff about the idea, since it would be expensive and you seem to be determined to not spend his money. “Why don’t we talk to the architect?”

"We have a meeting next week. Why don't we add it to the things we want to talk to her about?" The quiet reason you're not immediately downplaying this idea is that you can immediately imagine having pool parties for your future children out there, with the patio bustling and a little outdoor kitchen right at hand. It makes you feel so dreamy that you just can't say no.

“Perfect.” Now that the director as given them the slight changes he wants to the scene, he moves back behind the camera and calls for silence on the set again.

There is nothing but utter silence in the hallway during the actual take. You cuddle into Javi's side and just watch the monitor. Having him close even without talking is a special kind of intimacy and one that you're starting to find that you love. The atmosphere of the set can be so tense at times that these little moments of intimacy feel stolen.

The wheels in Javi’s brain are starting to spin and he hums to himself as an idea for another script jumps to life. Even as he watches his latest being brought to the screen in front of him.

It’s a beautifully done scene, one full of yearning and those first pangs of something new that make your heart ache for the characters. Javi’s script is sensational on its own but Tamara and Jason are so good together that you almost feel like you’re intruding on their privacy just by watching the monitor. Which is absolutely as it should be.

Javi plays with your rings while he watches the scene. Knowing it by heart, he’s seen it in his head for so long, it’s almost boring to see it now. Thinking about that new idea as he grins to himself.When “Cut!” is called again, you nudge his jaw with your nose flash him a grin. “It’s a beautiful script, love.”

"Huh?" He is started out of his musings and he glances at you in confusion. "Oh, uh, thank you." He realizes what you are talking about and he grins. "Sorry, I was thinking about something else."

“Is everything okay?” He hasn’t mentioned being out of sorts or unwell or anything, but you still ask. Javi is, as they say, a dreamer. He might be far off in an imaginary land right now just as easily as he might be worrying about something.

“Everything is good.” He smiles again so you don’t worry. “I have an idea for a new script.”

“Really?” Your eyes light up in surprise. “A new idea already?”

“Umm hmm.” Your surprised delight makes him so much more appreciative of the support you’ve already shown him. “I need to jot some rough ideas for the timeline down.”

"I already can't wait." And you can't believe that he could come up with new ideas that fast, either. It seems like scripts should be so much harder to put together than just a single spark of an idea.

“Good.” He nods. “I will probably be asking you a million questions.”

"Oh?" That surprises you again, but as the director makes adjustments and gets ready to do another take, you sort of revel in the absurdity of the whole thing. You're living beyond your wildest dreams, after all. "And why will you be asking me questions, of all people?"

He smiles at you like the answer should be obvious and you are so sweet for not figuring it out. “Because it will be about you.” He hums and winks before looking back at the monitor as the scene is called to action.

You're still staring at him in abject confusion a full three minutes later when the director calls 'Cut!" again, and despite probably looking like a mad woman you don't feel any saner or closer to an answer. Which is why you end up blurting out "Why?" The second you're able to talk again.

Javi turns towards you again, wondering if you are upset at the idea of being his muse. For so long, anyone who learned of his desire to write movies would always beg to be his muse, sometimes even using seduction to try to sway him. You and Nick seem to be the only people that seemed uncomfortable by the idea, Nick because he wasn’t sure if it would work. “Art school.” He explains. “The impossible choice between honoring your parent’s wishes and following your heart.”

"Then I hope your character decides to do more with it than darn socks and mend thrifted clothes." There is worry on his face that you wish you could reach out and smooth away. Like a swipe of your thumb might lifts all of the clouds of concern right out of his mind. "I'm honored that you think I'm worth being inspired by, sweetheart."He bites his lip, trying to search your eyes to see if you are just being polite. “You should do more than darn socks or mend thrifted clothes.” He murmurs. “You should do what you want.”

"Maybe." He is disarmingly sweet. He has been since the day you met him, and a month of marriage has not dulled it in any way. "I was thinking of asking for a used sewing machine for my birthday this year. Since...I never really have anyone to ask but I hoped you might wonder what to get me?"

"A sewing machine." He is immediately committing that to memory and nodding. "You have me to ask now." He promises, deciding that he will throw you one hell of a birthday party for this year.

"And you have me." For whatever the hell that's worth. Things seem both awash with prospects and simultaneously in the middle of a weird sort of limbo right now. At least for you.

Javi's phone buzzes and he jumps slightly, not expecting it. Chuckling at himself as he pulls it out of his pocket, his eyes light up as he sees the number on the screen. "Oh! It's here!" Bolting out of the chair to take the call.

“It?” You jump out of your skin right along with him, clambering down from your chair to follow.

"Hello?" He is off to the races as he answers the phone. "Yes! Hi! Are you outside?" He asks, hearing you following him, but it's a given that you need to be here as well. "Yes? Already? And the bow?" He is giddy and practically skips a step. "Thank you! I am on the way."

“Javi, where are you going?” He’s headed straight down the hallway toward the main entrance of the house and you barely make it to the door behind him. Down a half dozen stairs and out to the port-cochere, there are plenty of cars and trailers parked out in the front of Hazelwood House but the gate has opened to let two more in.

Two cars. One of which has a giant bow on the roof.

Javi’s eyes light up and he thinks it’s perfect. Your favorite color just happened to be available in the same model as his own car and only a few cities over on another car lot. They had managed to ship the car here today and he spins around to you. “Surprise!”

"Oh my god..." You can barely huff out the words, watching a metallic blue version of Javi's beloved Porsche convertible be driven onto the grounds of the museum. You should feel awed. You should be such immense gratitude. And you do, really you do. But the twist of discomfort in your stomach is so sharp that it almost makes you nauseous. "You bought me a car?" Why? And why does that make you almost want to cry instead of being excited?

The wide grin on his face falters slightly when you don’t immediately start jumping up and down while screaming in excitement. “You– uh, didn’t want to drive my car.” He explains. “So I thought that you should just have your own. You would drive that, right?” He asks.

"I don't like driving your car because I'm terrified of something happening while I'm in it..." He looks absolutely crestfallen but you really don't know what to do right now. He went completely over your head to solve a problem and landed on an answer that makes you uncomfortable without meaning to.

“Something happening?” He rushes back over to you and grabs your waist gently. “Sweetheart, it’s a car. A tool.” He insists. “If something happened, I would only care that you are safe.” His brows lift. “And the car has a fantastic safety rating.” He adds, as is that will bolster his argument.

"I can't imagine you not caring if your million-dollar car was in an accident." Okay, you have no idea how much the car actually costs. But it's a Porsche convertible. It has to be a lot. And expensive things -- or at least things that were expensive to you -- have been a stress point for your entire life. "It's very sweet of you, baby. But when I needed to take my car to the shop, the solution didn't need to be buying me a new car."

“The car wasn’t that expensive.” He protests and the delivery driver of the car gets out of the driver’s seat and starts walking towards you and Javi. “Your car was...tired.” He reminds you.

"Say what you mean." You shrug. "My car is a piece of shit. But it was a piece of shit that I worked hard to afford and was proud of because it was proof of all that work."

His shoulders slump, feeling horrible for making you feel like your efforts didn’t matter. “I’m - I’m sorry.” He murmurs softly. “I just wanted my wife in a safe, reliable car instead of riding a bus. And I-“ he shakes his head. “I’ll have the car returned.”

"Amor," you tip his chin back up with two fingers to look at you, hating the way he looks when he pouts. It breaks your heart to upset him at all but this was a very big surprise. “Is it already paid for?”

His eyes slide to the right guiltily. “Sí.” He sighs. “But I think they will buy it back.” For loss, of course. They would take at least twenty grand off just because they had taken it off the lot to be delivered. The last thing you want is for him to think you're mad. He did something deeply overboard but he did it out of love and a want to be helpful. So you put your own arms around his waist in turn, and the expression on your face turns into something like a lopsided smile of exasperation. He is so terribly sweet, your excited puppy of a soulmate. He really is. "If it's already paid for, then I'll find out how much the shop will pay me for the parts from my junker. Can I just ask you one thing, mi amor?”

He bites his lip, feeling the rebuke coming but at least you aren’t yelling. “Anything.”

“The next time we have a big decision to make, can we make it together?” You squeeze his waist gently and lean up to kiss his cheek, trying to make sure he understands you’re not mad — just exceedingly confused. “We’re partners, aren’t we?”

“Yes, yes we are.” Guilt floods him and he has the decency to look sheepish. “I- I got caught up and I wanted you to have-“ he lets go of your hip with one hand to gesture to the car. “I thought it was a sign they had one in your favorite color.”

"It's very beautiful." When he had found out your favorite color was blue you thought for sure he was going to theme every little thing in your lives to shade of that color, but so far it's been limited to him buying a whole new bedding set in shimmery blue for your bed. You had loved that surprise, so you can see how he had thought right away that you would love this, too. "I'm not upset, Javi. I'm just really surprised. When you said you were going to spoil me when we got married, I didn't think it would be big things, too."

“Why would it not be with big things?” He asks, concerned that you could think that he would leave you to hand big things on your own.

"I–I don't know." Suddenly you're the one feeling guilty, and frowning deeply because the answer occurs to your out of nowhere, almost like you're being punched in the gut. "Probably...because...I've always had to do the big things for myself."

He hates the way your face looks so lost, so uncertain. Javi leans in and kisses you softly. “Now you have me to do the big things…with.” He stresses the last word, reassuring you that he heard your request.

“Come on, you.” The weight of a handful of unexpected revelations is still heavy on your shoulders, but the world seems a lot more manageable when Javi is smiling and you’d prefer to keep it that way. “Show me the car.”

Now that he’s halfway sure you will accept the car, he’s grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the deliver driver to get the keys and thank him profusely. “It is just like mine.” He promises. “Although your car has the cooled seats!”

The car dealer deposits the keys in Javi’s hand when he walks you over, smiling and chatty as car salesmen at wont to be. At some point the directive that this car is for you must have been given because the salesman’s attention moves firmly to explaining all of the special features of the complex car to you.

Your car is the same year model, although there are a few more bells and whistles on yours. The grey and black leather seats look amazing and it’s obvious that the dealer has just removed all the protective plastic before delivering it. It has that deeply satisfying new car smell, although that will soon disappear if you drive with the top down. “Your husband asked for the same model he has, with a few upgrades.” The salesman explains to you, as though he hasn’t just explained the entire car tip-to-tail. “Including the manual transmission. Of course, Mrs. Gutierrez, if you prefer—”

“Before you insinuate that I won’t be able to drive the car my husband has gifted to me, be assured that my ability to drive a manual sports car is not in question.”

Javi looks smugly proud of that fact and he nods. “Absolutely.”Accordingly, Javi drops the key into your hand and presses a kiss to your cheek. You thank the salesman for the delivery, realizing belatedly that the thing that going to make you keep this car is fifty percent Javi's sweet gesture and fifty percent spite for this salesman who thinks you can't handle it.

The salesman leaves in the other car, climbing in the passenger seat and Javi grins. “Want to take it for a test drive?” He asks excitedly."Don't we have to go back to work?" Javi's excitement is always the sweetest height of any moment, but there are still responsibilities to take into account. "How about I drive us home tonight instead of taking the studio car?"

He pouts for a moment and then nods. “That makes more sense.” He agrees, even though he wants to take a ride with you now. “Maybe we can drive around the coast and find a new restaurant to try?”

"That sounds perfect." You won't say so because you know Javi's idea of a new place to try is always fancy, but Alex had told you about a new burger place on the Pacific Coast Highway. Just a shack on the beach. It sounds like something Javi will love if he even ever tried it -- but those aren't the places that he thinks to try.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks, glancing at the car and then back at you.

"It's a gift from my soulmate." You wrap one hand around his arm and tuck the keys into your pocket carefully with the other. "Even if it was unexpected, it's still lovely."

“Okay.” He relaxes into your body and smiles. “I was hoping you would like it. They are very reliable cars.”

"I know you love your car." He does, and you had really just chalked it up to him being a sports car guy, but Javi's obsession with safety is one more thing that is very sweet about him. He really cares about the people closest to him. You glance back at the car, which was neatly parked on the edge of the other staff vehicles, and then back at him. "It will take a little getting used to, for me. But I love that you want to take care of me."

“You’re my soulmate.” He huffs. “Of course I want to take care of you.” He promises. “I want to give you the world.”

“I’m still getting used to that,” you admit, leaning on his arm a little out of a dear and sort of desperate wish to be close to him as you head back down the hall to whatever scene work is being done right now. “And I love you, too.”******

Alex wasn’t on the primary set today, but he was working with the secondary camera crew and the assistant director to shoot some of the exterior scenes, so he had seen the delivery of the car from a distance.

“New car! Who got a new car?” He demands, knocking on the trailer door and throwing it open a second later to charge inside like an over eager puppy. He’s a total gear head and loves cars.

"Mrs. G." Jason reports, lounging across the sofa in their shared trailer with a book open and resting on his chest. He'd barely closed his eyes for a nap when Alex came rumbling in. "You go see it yet?"“No! I have to get out of this costume.” He is pulling off the elaborate jacket and starts to unbutton the crisp white shirt.

“Go easy!” Jason reminds him, sitting up on the sofa and shoving a bookmark into the spine of the book without mercy. “Heather will kill you if you rip anything.”

“Dude, the horsepower of the car.” He grins. “Maybe she’ll let me test drive it.”

"You might have a better chance at that if you hadn't crushed the cover of her notebook the other day just by holding it weird." Jason chuckles. He pulls himself to standing with a grunt and moves to grab his water bottle off the nearby shelf.

“I didn’t mean to!!!!!” He insists, whining and pouting at the mention of that incident. He really hasn’t meant to.

“I know, man.” Jason can’t stop cackling now, even as he pats his co-star on the back. “I know. But it’s never not gonna be funny.”

In his excitement and exuberance, Alex can be a little…destructive. He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Then I’m never gonna drive that car.” He groans.

"Maybe she'll take you for a ride," Jason offers instead. Alex is just pulling on a t-shirt when he motions back toward the trailer door with a wave of one hand. "I mean she basically adopted you as the brother she never wanted right?" He snorts when Alex swats at him defensively and the two guys tumble out of their trailer and into the spring sunlight. "Just ask, man."

“Maybe.” He is rushing towards Javi’s trailer, still amused that the writer has his own space. Although it makes sense, in a way. Changes are quick, printed out right on site.

You groan at the impatient knocking on the trailer door, having to pause what you're doing with one hand working open Javi's pants and the other tangled in his curls. "One second!" You call back, pouting about being interrupted.

“Hurry up!” Alex chirps happily, practically wringing his hands together. Eager to see the car up close. “Stop kissing your soulmate!”

"Shut up!" Is the retort that comes back through the door, and after a minute or two of shuffling you pull the door open to find both leading men on your steps. "Yes, gentlemen?"

Jason chuckles, finding both you and Javi behind you looking flustered. Having some inkling it was much more than just kissing. “Saw the new car.” He explains. “Alex is about to crawl out of his skin to see it.”

"Alex, someday when I meet your soulmate, I'm going to ask them if they are a dog person right off the bat," you chuckle with thinly veiled amusement at the way the Hollywood star is practically wagging his tail to see the new vehicle. "Alright," you were already reaching for the key out of sight, and now you dangle it in front of his face teasingly. "Let's go check her out. She needs a name anyway. Might as well make it a group project."

“Oh god!” His eyes light up and he tries to snatch the keys out of your hand, but you pull them back. “Don’t name her something stupid.”

“What would be a stupid name for a car?” You ask him, entirely amused by his clearly very strong feelings on the subject.

“Bertha.” He chuckles. “I know Eleanor is popular because of Gone in Sixty Seconds…” he glances at Javi. “But don’t name her that.”

"Bertha is a character on my favorite tv show." You shake your head at the suggestion even as you loop your arm around Javi's waist to walk together. "I usually let a car tell me what their name is. You know – get in and the first song that plays on the first drive is where you get the name from. That sort of thing."

“Ohhhhhh that’s a good way to do it!” Alex plugs up and he’s turning around and walking backwards as he quizzes you. “Favorite genre of music?”

"It sounds so basic to say rock, but it's true." There is also a healthy interest into any kind of music that tells a story, but in general? It's rock. "90s alt rock, grunge, punk...but I'll try anything that comes on a good recommendation."

“Janie.” Alex grins widely, eyes alight with glee. “The car’s name is gonna be Janie.”

"How can you possibly guess that?" Jason huffs, crossing his arms like it's his car that has been named and not yours.

“Janie’s got a guuuun.” Alex croons off key on purpose as he continues to bound backwards like an excited puppy. “Most dealers set the XM radio to the 80s or 90s station, depending on the price tag of the car. Javi’s car is easily ninety k, and Aerosmith released the song in 1989 but it topped charts in 1990, so they play it on both the 80s and 90s stations.”

"We'll see." Never mind that the 80s and 90s stations are usually what you listen to, you ask the universe for one single second to make it anything else so that Alex will be wrong. You love the guy – he's funny and a great friend – but he doesn't need his head getting about bigger.

He doesn’t take offense, chuckling happily as he spins around and he whistles just as soon as the sparkling new car comes into the view, bow still sitting on the hood. “Ohhhh she is puuuuuuuuuurdy.” He drawls out with an exaggerated Texas accent.

"I have to admit," you give Javi's side a gentle squeeze. "The color is perfect."

“Good.” He beams. “It was this or a car that looked like pink or purple color.”

"I mean," you laugh, watching Javi's face morph at his obvious distaste for that choice. "I do like pink and purple. But blue is my favorite. And the gray interior is gorgeous." Stepping up to the car, you smooth a tentative hand down one side and bite your lip. Is this really your car? Did he really do this? But you click the unlock button on the fob in your hand and sure enough, the door unlocks instantly. Yep. He really did it.

Even as Alex drools over the car, Javi is watching you. Eager to see your reaction now that the reality of it being yours is starting to sink in.

It is the same as his car, after all. You've been in his car dozens of times now. But opening the driver's side send a ping of nerves through you just as much as it does anticipation. After all, the car was a gift. And it is much safer than your old one. Just because you scraped and saved for that shitbox did not make it a good car by any means.

You slide into the driver's seat and actually sigh with how comfortable it is.

“Heated and cooled seats.” Javi reminds you and Alex starts cracking up. “You got the coochie coolers, hellllllll yeah mama!” He slaps Javi on the back. “Just what she needs in the California summer.”

"Please never call them that again," you snort, shaking your head at Alex before you lean back in the front seat and look up at the three men that you now spend as much time with as anyone else in the world. "Okay. We ready for this?"

"Hell yeah." Jason pumps one fist in the air. "Do it!" 

"Here we go..." Turning over the ignition is akin to a cat purring out its very best first impression, and when the screen blinks to life the station that is listed is, in fact, 90s Alt Rock. Javi leans in to ear the song, eager to learn what is playing. The unique sound of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers comes through the speakers in studio quality sound.

"Last dance with Mary Jane, one more time to kill the pain  I feel summer creepin' in and I'm tired of this town again"

Jason smirks, Javi’s head tilts curiously, and you just start to laugh as Alex crows with victory.

“Alright, fine,” you can’t stop shaking your head and laughing as Mary Jane’s Last Dance pours through the speakers. “I guess the car’s name is Janey.” It’s better than Mary Jane, after all, and the radio determined the winner anyway.

“Janey?” Javi asks, wondering if you are joking since you had wanted to thwart Alex.

“Those are the rules.” When you shrug you’re still laughing. Mostly because the chance of that happening was way too small to ignore. “I don’t particularly want to name her Mary Jane, but Janey is cute.”

“It could always be MJ.” Jason pipes up with a grin tossed Alex’s way.

“But then it sounds like you’re naming your car after Michael Jackson.” Alex points out, as if that proves that he wins.

“Or MJ from Spider-Man.” Jason counters with a shrug. “Short for Mary Jane.”

“I always liked Gwen Stacy.” You counter, just to watch the unabashed, rather gobsmacked way both Alex and Jason start to sputter in protest. “I’m kidding guys, oh my god. Calm down. MJ is good. I like MJ.”

Javi chuckles and pats the cloth hood of the car. “MJ.” He hums. “Why don’t you let her hair down, Sweetheart?”

Placing a kiss on his cheek, you slide into the car and shut the door. Turning over the ignition feels like you're sitting on an engine-powered cloud. Just like Javi's car, the buttery leather cradles you and you really can't deny the comfort. You tell yourself it's practical. Your husband – your soulmate can afford to buy you a new car when your old one is dying, and he got you something safe and stylish without you ever having to ask. Most partners would be thrilled. 

So why not embrace it? 

The second your foot presses the gas, you suddenly have no trouble with the idea of this car being your reality.

Javi watches as you squeal out of your parking spot, grinning wildly as Alex shouts encouragement in excitement.

Almost the second you pull out, the wind seems to change. The world morphs around you a little. And yeah, you like driving. You always have. But this? This feels like flying, and the only thing you’re missing is Javi beside you.

“Well damn, she left you behind.” Jason snorts, slapping Javi on the back, but your husband just chuckles. “She’ll be back. She’s just getting a feel for her baby.”

“It’s a hell of a gift.” Jason observes, arms crossed, as he watches you turn a wide circle on the other end of the parking lot.

“She’s worth it.” Javi promises with an indulgent smile. “First time I’ve ever felt truly loved.” The realization had been astounding. You accepted him, flaws and all and even put up with him now when you were exasperated by him buying you a car without your input. There is never a moment where you make him feel like he’s not enough.

Jason and Alex, for alternate reasons, sigh with longing and mumble agreements. Jason has been developing a sizable crush since beginning work on this film and hasn’t said a goddamn word to anyone — while Alex has been having a quiet personal crisis about the possibility of never being able to find his soulmate. He envies people like Javi and Dieter Bravo. People who work through their fears and end up happy and in love. He just doesn’t know if that will ever happen to him.

The car comes roaring back towards the three men and Javi chuckles when the other two step back cautiously but he knows you will stop. The braking system on the car is amazing, and he fully trusts you. “How does she feel?”

At some point during your test drive you brought the top down, and you’re grinning at him unapologetically from the front seat of the convertible. “The only thing that would make it more perfect is having you in the front seat with me.”

“Are you ready to leave?” He asks, shooting you a matching grin and lifting his brows. “Alex might cry if you don’t take him for a spin.”

“Don’t we have more work to do?” If you’ve both been dismissed from set that is news to you, but you wouldn’t be opposed to a drive.

“We are done for the day.” Alex is bouncing on his toes and edging closer to the car. Eager to get into the passenger seat if he can’t get behind the wheel. “Secondary too.”

Looking up to Javi, you flash a gleaming grin and shrug your shoulders. “Do you guys want to go for a drive? Head out to the beach and maybe get dinner?”

“You- uh, don’t mind?” Jason looks surprised and at the same time, a little relieved that you just aren’t dragging Javi away.

“Why would I mind? We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s a little heartbreaking the way Jason always seems surprised to be included in things, but that’s like half the reason you’re damned and determined to always make sure he knows he’s invited. “If everybody is done, maybe we can catch the girls and we can all go together?”

Javi chuckles. “We won’t all fit in this car, but why don’t we go to the house and pick up my car?” He grins at Alex and Jason. “You two can take turns driving mine.” He offers with a waggle of his brows.

Before you can say another word, the boys are agreeing and sprinting off to their trailers for their stuff so fast that they leave behind a dust cloud.

“Well,” you laugh, shaking your head as they go. “We should go tell the girls. You just gave those two the biggest excitement of the week.”

“We’ll have to get them to the house, but then we can let them ride in my car.” He offers as he leans against the driver’s door and offers you a smirk. “You look sexy behind the wheel. Knew you would.”

“Yeah?” He’s practically beaming at you, and you can’t help but feel a little giddy about it in turn. “What else do you think about me being sexy doing?”

He bites his lip, his expression sliding into something a little more…carnal. “When you walk around the cottage in those little outfits. When you wash your make up off every night and you lean over the sink to make sure you got all your eyeliner.” He grunts slightly, obviously infatuated. “Painting your toenails.”

A little giggle wells in your chest and you smirk at him in turn. “So…any time you get a good view of my ass or get to look down my shirt?”

His eyes dip down your shirt and linger for a moment before he looks back into your eyes. “Guilty.” He admits with a chuckle.

“That’s totally fine,” you promise him, grin spreading a little wider. “I can’t wait for the pool to be ready so I can check out your whole drawer of speedos in action.”

“I have a favorite pair.” He admits shamelessly.

"Oh yeah?" As much as you hate to, you climb out of the parked car temporarily so you and Javi can go inside and hunt down the rest of your friends. "Which one?"

“They are black and white striped.” He tells you. “I think they make my small butt look bigger.”

Barely stopping yourself before you snort, you lean into Javi's side and pat his 'small butt' lovingly. "I think your ass is perfect, amor. Don't worry about that."

“You like it?” He perks up slightly, surprised that you would even care about his mild body issues.

"Do I like my husband's ass?" Even pretending to think about it only lasts a minute, and you slide your hand into his back pocket to give him a little squeeze. Sure, Javi doesn't have the biggest or perkiest butt in the world – but it's lean and tight just like the rest of him. "No. No, I take that back. I don't like it. I love it."

He chuckles, a little self conscious and a little proud of his butt that you like so much. “Yours is much better.” He promises, his own hand sliding down to your lower back and he grins but continues down to squeeze your ass.

"I guess it's a very good thing we like each other's assets so much," you joke, giggling at your own bad pun.

Javi laughs at the corny joke, nodding happily. “Go find your friend, sweetheart.” He urges you. “I’ll find Tamara.”

Moira is, as always, easy to find. At the reception desk inside the front door of the house, she is sitting with her novel of the week and her enormous pink Stanley full of iced water. The little cherry cover has been flicked off the top and she's chewing the tip of her straw between her teeth as she reads something particularly exciting.

"Can I interrupt?" Sometimes being interrupted in the middle of reading something exciting is the worst and you don't want to do that to her.

She’s immediately marking her spot and closing the book, looking at you expectantly. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Hollywood?” She teases with a grin.

“Hush.” But you just roll your eyes, grinning with that effervescent sunny aura that life with Javi had given you. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come hang out tonight.” You waggle your eyebrows teasingly. “Jason is coming.”

Eyes widening as her heart starts to race, there isn’t the possibility of playing it cool. Her crush on the actor is nearly overwhelming and to her horror, she can barely form sentences around him. So often she is asked why she’s so quiet. “Oh god.” She moans. “I’m gonna embarrass myself.”

“You’re not!” Plopping yourself down on the stool beside her behind the desk for a moment of work wife support, you squeeze your best friend close to your side and shake her a little as if you’re trying to shake her nerves out. “He’s a sweetheart and an absolute goofball. And I totally caught him checking you out at lunch today.”

“Oh b.s.” she huffs, waving her hand at you even if she perks up slightly and rolls her shoulders back. “He was not.”

“He was.” You nudge her, knowing you’ve already gotten her that much cheerier. “And I have it on good gossiping authority that he’s got a crush on somebody in the production.”

“The key word there is production.” She points out, sighing softly. You don’t tease her about her impossible crush, but she’s almost embarrassed by how much she likes him. She feels akin to a stalker, flustering every time she runs into him and yet she’s ’accidentally’ run into him more than once.

“You count as being in the production, babe.” The reminder is soft, but still nudging. “You don’t have to come tonight, but I wish you would. We’re just going to drive out to the beach and have burgers and hang out. Nothing fancy.”

“Just hanging out?” Since you’ve been married, the out of work time spent together has gone down, but that is to be expected and she doesn’t begrudge you that. Still, it’s nice to have the opportunity to spend time with you if nothing else. “Why not?” She shrugs and grins. “You know how much I love burgers.”

“I know you do.” And if you manage to get her in the backseat of your new car with her celebrity crush at any given point, the night will be twice as successful. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Grab your stuff and we’ll sign you out. They’ve called shooting for the day.”

“They have?” Her brows wing up and she’s jumping out of her chair to start gathering her things. Without guests, her days are boring at times and today was one of those days. She hadn’t even had confused guests arrive not knowing the house was closed for filming. “That’s early.”

“Yeah, but I can’t say I’m upset about it. Javi said they got the first two scenes this morning in one take each.”

“You weren’t on set?” She smirks and shoots you a coy look. “What were you doing? Recovering?”

“Hush!” Even as you bat her arm in playful shock, you’re near giggling. “No, I had some mail to send and my beloved junker was in the shop."

She groans in disbelief and shakes her head. “What’s wrong with Betsy now?” She demands. “She’s requiring more and more maintenance, you know.”

“I know.” At this, you at least have the decency to look a bit sheepish. Once Moira has her things, you head down to the time clock in the basement together so she can sign out. “And I guess Javi was more concerned about my safety with the old girl than I realized.”

“What do you mean?” She frowns in confusion. “Did he insult your car?”

“No, no! Nothing like that.” Javi could never insult anyone. You know that about him. He’s constitutionally incapable of intentional negativity. “He just mentioned that she breaks down a lot and that he’d feel better if I drove something a bit safer.” You bite your lip and shrug, wondering how she’ll take the news. “He worries.”

“Well, he should worry.” She admits, shrugging slightly. “You broke down on the 405 six months ago.” She reminds you. “Had to wait three hours for a tow truck.”

"I know." Though Javi doesn't know that. If he had, he probably would have done what he did today much sooner. "Which is why I'm hoping you'll be impressed by what he did instead of freaking out a little like I did."

“What did he do?” She is instantly suspicious and dragging you towards the stairs so she can find out.

"He, um..." You clear your throat and very quickly mumble: "Heboughtmeanewcar."

“He what?” She heard you, she just can’t believe what you’ve said. The very idea of someone just buying their spouse a new car isn’t something happens in real life in her experience. “What? What kind? Where? Is it here?”

"It's out front." The ever-so-slight embarrassment on your face is just because you can't believe he did something so extravagant out of a place of kindness and love. Out of worry, for that matter. Just because he cares about you and he can. "It's um...before you see it...just know it's not something I would have picked for myself but I do love it."

“Oh god.” She groans. “Don’t tell me that man got you a fucking minivan.”

"No, no. Quite the opposite." Back up the stairs and out to the front of the house, you put your hand into your pocket and click the remote entry that unlocks your shining, metallic blue Porsche. "Moira, meet MJ."

“Holyshitnofuckingwaaaaaaay!” The squeal makes it out in one breath as she nearly leaps for the car, yanking the door handle open to look inside and verify that your key fob unlocked this car. “Can he buy me one too?” She begs, teasing but obviously slightly jealous as she coos over the car.

"Honestly if you asked, he probably would," you tell her, glad to see that she's excited about this development instead of getting worried that it's overbearing or that Javi is lovebombing you. Neither of which is the case.

“Holy shit.” She huffs. “It smells amazing.”

"New car smell, right? I swear Porsches have their own specific version."

“Because it’s expensive.” She pokes her head out of the car and looks at you over the hood. “Don’t tell me that he just surprised you with it?”

"I don't know if you've noticed, but surprises are kind of his thing." From the front steps of the house, the guys and Tamara appear and you can't help the way you light up at even the smallest sight of your soulmate. “Everybody excited to get outta here?"

“I wonder what he will surprise you with next time?” She chuckles, happy to see that you are so happy. You deserve everything.

“Hopefully nothing as big,” you half-laugh under your breath as the group comes down the front steps toward you.

“Hell yes.” Tamara answers happily. “A burger and a beer or two sounds like the perfect way to unwind tonight.”

When the rest of the group makes it over to the car there are hugs and squeezes all around and Tamara coos over the new convertible lovingly. "Since everybody else was driven," she eyes the boys with amusement. "Why don't we take Mrs. G's gorgeous new baby and my SUV out to Casa Gutierrez and we can go from there?"

“I want to ride in the convertible!” Alex immediately calls it and Jason shoots a glance over at Moira to see if she’s going to call the other tiny backseat.

"Surprising no one." Tamara laughs. "Jay and Moira, wanna ride with me? I think if we try to split up the adoring soulmates, the world might implode."

Everyone laughs and Javi shrugs. “It just might.” He admits. “It is hard enough to be away from her when she is having her nails done with Moria.” However, he knows you need your time with your friends and he would never deny you anything you need.

“Which is a tradition we cherish, and you’re the king of appreciating a nice new manicure anyway, mi amor.” Before him, your weekly manicure sessions with your best friend had been an excuse to spend time together, listening to music and gossiping and painting each other’s nails. Once Javi had heard about this, he had insisted on upgrading it to a weekly lunch and salon date for the two of you.He smirks and winks at you as he thinks about the way your hand looks when you wrap it around his cock. It’s your favorite way to beg him for sex, not that you have to beg, but you love to feel him harden in your hand. “Yes I do.”

“Okay.” Having a feeling that you’re both thinking about the same thing, you snap back into reality just long enough to nudge a slightly panicky looking Moira toward Tamara and Jason. “We’ll meet you guys at the house. See you in a bit!”

Everyone is quickly loaded up into the cars, Alex groaning over the buttery leather interior and grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he leans forward. “Make her fly?” He begs.

He’s like a little kid in the backseat all the way down the Pacific Coast Highway. For the length of the drive it is nothing but good music and chatter in both cars and even when you leave Tamara’s SUV in the driveway of the cottage to take both convertibles out for dinner, the good mood just keeps rolling. By the time the six of you get the little burger shack with its old fashioned jukebox and brightly painted and varnished tables, you’re both starving and in an incredibly good mood.

“Oh my goodness, I love the vibes of this place.” Moira is absolutely enchanted by the relaxed atmosphere and the relaxing classic rock that is pouring out of the speakers of the jukebox. It’s very chill, very surfer-like. Even if the rocky cliffs aren’t the perfect setting for surfboards and catching waves.

“Isn’t it the cutest? And I’ve looked over the menu a million times, everything looks so good.” Your best friend had glued herself to your side the second both cars got here and you’re dying to know why she’s blushing so badly but you won’t pry quite yet. “I’ve been wanting to come here for ages.”

“Why didn’t you say something before now?” Javi asks, almost looking hurt that you kept what you wanted to yourself. “We could have come.”

“I knew we’d get around to it.” You reassure him, and make a mental note that Javi seems a little extra sensitive to making you as happy as humanly possible today, despite — or perhaps because of — the car purchase just hours ago. “And I was right, wasn’t I? We’re here now.”

“Yes we are.” He relaxes at your words and the way you stroke your hand down the small of his back as you lean into him. “We need to try everything you want.”

“That’s either going to be a very big tab or a whole lot of visits, but I like the enthusiasm, mi amor.” The two of you slide up to the rest of the group to find Alex already flirting his way into getting two tables pushed together instead of having to wait. Moira has joined Tamara at the jukebox where they are eagerly picking out songs, and Jason is lingering slightly behind with his eyes trained firmly on the ground in front of him like he’s misbehaved or something.

“What’s wrong with him?” Javi asks you, noticing Jason’s behavior and finding it odd for the actor. He’s not as outgoing as Alex, but he’s normally not sulking like a kid put in time out.

“Not sure yet.” The two of you hang to the back of the group as the beaming hostess leads Alex to his table and all the rest of you only by accident. “But I caught him get starry eyed looking at Moira earlier. Maybe there’s a thread there?”

“You picked up on that?” He lifts a brow and grins as he glances back at your best friend. “I thought I was imagining things.”

“Nope.” Shaking your head lets you smother a giggle as you walk together, and you grin up at your husband. “Clear as day!”

“What does she think about him?” You have to know, as close as the two of you are. But Javi doesn’t push you to tell him everything you and Moira discuss. He respects your friendship enough to know that you might keep secrets from him that she divulges.

“Oh, we are absolutely meddling,” you murmur, right before letting go of his arm to sit down.

“It’s like that, huh?” He snorts in amusement and sits down beside you.

“Like what?” Jason asks brightly. He’s already picked up a menu and is leaning back in his chair, savoring the evening breeze off the Pacific.

“Like a party.” Javi answers, glancing over at Jason. “How was the drive here?”

“Stunning.” Alex grins, leaning forward just as Jason leans back. “I’m gonna have to get one of those for myself, ya know.”

“So you are going to let Jason drive it back?” Javi asks with a grin of his own.

Picking up on Javi's thread quickly, you bury your grin behind your menu and shrug. "Someone would have to keep an eye on him if I did let that happen."

Javi chuckles. “And who better than your best friend?”

"Perfect." Moira might kill you for it later -- if the foot stepping on yours under the table is any indication -- but you'll be damned if you're not going to at least try to help.

“But I wanted to drive her some more.” Alex pouts playfully, even as he hands over the keys to the Porsche.

"Play nice and you'll get another chance," Tamara advises, still grinning when the waiter comes over to take everyone's drink orders.

“Or better yet, buy one.” Jason snorts. “Or maybe not, the way you drive.”

"Hey!" Alex all but pouts. "I'm a good driver!"

Moira snorts and Jason immediately bites his lip, the edges of his ears turning red as he looks at the menu like he’s trying to memorize it.

The ordering of drinks distracts from whatever must surely have happened during the drive out to the coast, and the table is awash with margaritas and beers in no time. Conversation turns to the menu and everyone's plans for the weekend, but your best friend beside you is suspiciously silent.

“Everything okay?” Your innocent question makes her jump, lost in thought until you rip her back to the present. “Oh, uh, y-yeah.” She stammers. “Everything’s great. Fine. Everything’s fine.”

"Liar." Eyeing her, margarita in hand, you lean slightly to your side and have a sip of your drink. "You're a terrible liar."

“What?” She gives you an exaggerated innocent look.

“What happened?” You whisper, waggling your eyebrows at her like you’re sure she has a secret.

“Alex drives like a maniac.” She whispers back after a long moment of silence. Her face is turning scarlet again and she bites her lip. “We weren’t wearing seatbelts and….” She chokes out a groan. “I know that my boob fits perfectly in his hand now, so that’s gonna be the highlight of my fantasies for the next hundred years.”

“What??” Barely able to stifle a snort of laugh by clamping your hand down over your mouth, your eyes bulge looking at her. Thank god you’re capable of keeping your voice down to a hiss. “You’re kidding me!”

“Noooooo.” She groans and flops her face into her hand. “And Jason reacted like I had an infectious disease.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” you promise her, glad that the other four at the table are currently distracted by some other discussion at the moment. “He was probably just embarrassed.”

“Or he’s disgusted he accidentally touched me.” She snorts, hating how rejected she felt when he had pulled backed and refused to look at her even as he apologized.

“I’d call that the least likely option.” After all, you know his eyes were trained on her ass at Craft Services this afternoon. There was no mistaking that. And more than once he’s gotten blushy and excitable talking to her between scenes or at a meal. Moira just never noticed because she was blushy and excitable too. And because she was fairly blind to anyone ever paying her compliments.

“Whatever you say.” She huffs quietly. “You’ve found your perfect prince and he’s literally amazing.”

"And you will, too." Because if it happened for you, there is nothing in the world that is going to stop you until you help your best friend find that happiness, too.

“We will see.” She doesn’t want to bring down the mood at all, so she shoots you a smile. “So you named the car already?”

"First song on the test drive was Mary Jane's Last Dance," you tell her, letting the deliberate subject change wash past you. There's no use harping on it when Jason is sitting a few feet away and Moira will just dig her heels in. "So it was kind of a no brainer."

“Sounds like it.” She laughs and shrugs. “MJ is kind of cute. Some people will think of Spider-Man, some people will think of smoking out.” She laughs. “Some people with think of Michael Jackson.”

“Variety is the spice of life, right?” Your little shrug is playful. Unserious. A small attempt to keep the mood playful for her.

“You should get a vanity plate for her.” She hums, knowing how much you enjoy figuring out what people are trying to say through their plates.

"Can you get them with just two letters on it?" It's a question you've never, ever had to contemplate before and now you can't recall if you've ever seen a short vanity plate before.

“What about MJ and the year?” She suggests.

"That could work." You hold up your glass to her to toast. "Just as long as you go for endless drives with me and keep being my adventure buddy. I can't possibly be Thelma without my Louise."

“Always.” She snorts and picks up her own glass to tap against yours. “I’ll be the scrub in the passenger side of my best friend’s ride.”

You snort, but toast her anyway. "You're dating us with that lyric, babe."

That makes her laugh, even though it’s jarring how much time as passed by since she first discovered her first soulmate mark and hoped to find them soon. “I’ll own it.”

"It's a good ass song." There's no debating that. Just like there's no debating how relaxed you are with your soulmate on one side of you and your best friend on the other. With a whole table full of friends. It's become your new reality almost as quickly as meeting and marrying your soulmate, and there's something about that that clenches your heart tonight. "And I swear I'm not getting teary over a TLC song."

“Yes you are.” Moira snorts. “But that’s okay. Right now, everything in your life is perfect.” She might be a little envious, but she would never begrudge you this happiness. You deserve it and more.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

TUWOP: @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sunnytuliptime @iamladyp @spishsstuff @famouslyanonymous

[funnyjb]

French Love

………………………………..

This morning is the second morning in Cannes, France. Joe is here for work and decided to bring me along with him. I have never been to France before so being here with the love of my life makes it even more memorable. Yesterday was pretty chill. We just walked around enjoying ourselves.

I was In the bathroom putting some makeup on. My hair was curled from my Dyson and my dress was fitting perfectly.

Joe then walked in.

“Baby.”- Joe

“Yeah?”- You

“Does this look good?”- Joe

I turned around to look at him

My jaw dropped. He looked so hot. He was wearing a black and rainbow striped set. Surprisingly with the rainbow he looked hot. Well, he always looks hot.

“Wow..you look handsome, Joey!”- You

“Thanks!”-Joe

“Is this the one the stylist helped you with?”- You

“Yeah”- Joe

“Maybe he should style you more often!”- You

I walked up over to him and put my hands on his shoulders.

“Oh, really?”- Joe raised an eyebrow with a smirk on his face

I nodded my head.

He then pulled in for a kiss. Thank goddess I didn’t have lipstick on yet.

The kiss started to get more heated. I could tell he wanted me.

“Joe…not right now.”- you

“Okay, but one more.”- Joe

He kissed me one last time.

We pulled out from the kiss and I just stared up at him.

“Wow, baby, you look beautiful.”- Joe

“Aw, thank you, Joey.”- you

I kissed him on the cheek then walked back over to finish getting ready.

“We have to leave in 5.”- Joe

“Ok!”- Joe

He waited at the door of the bathroom for a second. Taking me in.

God, she is gorgeous. - joe thought

——————————————————————-

At the Spotify event Joe was making his rounds while I was staying near by. Some of his friends flew out also for the events so they were with him.

I was talking to some of their girlfriends when I noticed Joe. He looked a little uncomfortable. There was a lot of people around. Many celebrities, influencers, and even some athletes. He was looking around trying to find someone. I decided to text him. I didn’t really know if he wanted me to go over there since a lot of people were having conversations with him and his friends.

I pulled his contact out of my phone

Joe💕

Hey, are you ok?- you

(I immediately got a text back)

Yeah, just a little overwhelming with all these people. I was looking for you. Where are you?- Joe

I’m near the piano. I can come over to you if you want?- you

Yes, please.- Joe

I put my phone back in my bag. I told the girls I was heading over to Joe. The girls also decided to go to their mans to.

I was walking over when Joe noticed me. His face immediately lifted up. He plastered a smile on to his beautiful face and walked over to meet me in the middle.

“Hey, beautiful.”- joe smiled

“Hey, handsome!”- you

He grabbed my left hand and held it. I guess Mr I hate PDA decided to change some things.

“I want to introduce you to someone.”- Joe

“Ok.”- you

I wonder who it could be.

As we walked over to where Joe was before I noticed there was a girl. She looked way older than Joe and I but still young.

“Evin!”- Joe

She turned around.

“Omg, is this her?”- Evin

“Yes, y/n this is Evin! She will be leading the panel I’m going to be on tomorrow.”- Joe

I reached out my hand to shake hers.

“Very nice to meet you!”- You smiled

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Joe couldn’t stop talking about you a couple minutes ago. I wanted to meet who captivated this boys heart.”- Evin

I looked at Joe. His cheeks were flushed.

“Aw, well its very nice to meet you.”- You

We stared talking about what will happen tomorrow at the panel and the meaning behind it. It was very interesting. Joe seemed like a perfect fit for this role.

“So, how long have you two love birds been together?”- Evin

“Ever since college. Seven years to be exact.”- you smile

“Aw, that is the sweetest.”- Evin

Evin and I talked for a bit till the special guest performance was going to happen. Everyone lined up against the pool where there was a stage and a piano. Joe was next to me. Both of us patiently waiting. John legend came out and everyone went crazy. I love him, so I of course couldn’t believe it.

He sang all of my favorite songs. I was so excited when he sang All Of Me.

I was so sad when it was over, but couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and spend some time with Joe before we go out to dinner.

———————————————————————-

It was time to head to dinner. Joe and I took a well deserved nap when we got back. I was lying on his chest watching his chest rise and fall before I had to wake him up.

I decided to change my dress into a white, long, floral one.

“Im ready!”- You

“Let’s go.”- Joe

He opened the hotel door and we were off!

He booked a reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in the French Riviera. He booked a private outdoor spot. The sun was setting which set a nice glow. You could hear the waves in the distance and the table was set up beautifully with red roses, candles, and some wine. It was right on the private beach.

“This is beautiful, Joe.”- you

I looked out into the distance where the waves were crashing.

He looked at me in awe.

“All for you, my love.”- Joe winked

I look back at him and chuckled.

“Well, thank you!”- you

The dinner came and we ate in silence because of how good it was.

After Joe and I were done Joe gave me that look again.

“Do I have something on my face?”- you swiped your mouth gently

Joe laughed

“No, no. Let’s….go look out at the ocean.”- Joe

“Ok!”- You

Both of us got up and Joe took my hand as we stepped onto the sand. It was beautiful. We walked a little bit more towards the water and then just stood there enjoying the moment.

Joe then turned to me as I looked at him.

“Y/n..this trip has been the best trip I’ve ever been on because of you. You make me calm and relaxed. You never fail to put a smile on my face, and always know how to crack a joke. You are always there for a shoulder to lean on and the best nurse I could ask for when I’m injured. Being with you is fulfilling, and loving you is easy. I want to be with you forever…so that being said.”

He kneeled down I front of me. He pulled a velvet box out of his pocket and opened it. I cover my mouth with my hand. I couldn’t believe it! The ring was gorgeous, but I didn’t care about the ring I cared that the love of my life is in front of me asking for a hand in marriage.

“Yes..yes I will marry you!”- you

He slid the ring on my finger and got up so he could hug me. I held him tight. He then looked at me with tears in his eyes. I then passionately kissed him.

“You’re my fiancé now.”- Joe smiled

“Indeed I am!”- you

He then pulled me in for another sweet kiss.

———————————————————————-

[strvlveera]

You Got Everything You Wanted

Part 1 / Part 2

italics is start of flashback.

Another airplane was getting ready for take off, the cloudless blue sky was vivid against the wide panels of glass; the airport filled with the bustling minds of passengers waiting for their own flight.

You, waiting for something else. Someone else.

Seeing the airplane fly off into the distance into the clouds camouflaging itself, reminded you of an event three years ago.

Your last fight with Tooru. And your last encounter.

With him announcing his sudden departure to Argentina.

——

“Why are you telling me this all of a sudden? W-was it because of yesterday?” You frantically questioned, feeling pathetic watching him load his suitcase up.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I already bought my ticket. It’s for tomorrow morning.” He continued packing as if it was one simple holiday.

“Tomorrow? Tooru, that's our anniversary.”

“Who gives a fuck [y/n]. Can’t you see our relationship is in shambles? I fucking cheated on you and you still came back. When will you take the hint that it’s over? We’re over.” He looked at you fed up, with pity in his eyes.

“So you’re just going to throw away the last - what, five years of our lives? Really? The Tooru I know wouldn’t do that to me.”

“He’s gone [y/n]!” He rises to his feet. “Can you not grasp that?”

“No I can’t Tooru! I can’t when all I see in front me is the boy I fell in love with. The boy who was there when I needed him most. And now he’s abandoning me for no apparent reason.” You sobbed, frustrated tears stinging your eyes.

“You’ve changed so much in the past year that I can’t let you go without you explaining to me what the hell is going on with you!” You pleaded.

“Just give me one simple explanation. Then I'll let you go. Then I’ll give up.”

Sensing your sense of defeat, something shifted in Tooru. He was used to you being stubborn. Having the strong sense of determination to power your way through arguments. Maybe his facade was wearing off seeing you crumble like a porcelain doll.

“I had an offer last year for a position to be setter for a club in Argentina. And I accepted.” He glimpsed back up to you, betrayal written all over your face.

“I-I was going to tell you I swear! But seeing you flourish at your new promotion, and your plans for our future life in Japan, I just couldn’t tell you.”

“Tooru…”

“I couldn’t tell you knowing all of this. And knowing that if I told you, you’d have to give it all up; all that you built and all that you lived for. But I also couldn’t leave with you still loving me. I just couldn’t.” He paused, coughing his tears back.

“The thought of us being apart with thousands of miles between us killed me and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to fathom it. That’s why I cheated. And I really thought that was the last straw for me. That you’d finally given up and seen the worst parts of me.” He explained, pouring out everything from his heart that he’d wish he said earlier but couldn’t.

Silence filled the apartment once again until a hiccup reached Tooru's ears. He glanced up to you only to be met with a sobbing mess in front of him. It sounded like agony. You stumble up to him, weakly punching his chest as the salty tears bleed through his shirt.

“Y-you fucking idiot Tooru! You can’t just decide that all on your own. You can’t just decide for me!” You exclaim between rigged breaths.

“I can learn the language! I-I can find another job and we can build a new life there together! Just don’t leave me here, Tooru. Please. I can’t be alone again. “ You looked up at him with blurry eyes, pain evidently searing through veins, clenching your fists against his chest.

Tooru feared this reaction. The worst outcome for him. He was vulnerable to you. He knew that if he saw you like this he’d be tempted to stay, and he was. But, his career was on the line. He had to be selfish.

“Get off me [y/n].” Taking all the hits from you. He couldn’t look down at you.

He shoved you off of him, your body falling to the cold floor.

Weakly, you tried to reach out for him. “Don’t go, don't go, don’t go, please Tooru!”

The jingle of the keys and the creek of the front door opening sealed the new life plan Tooru had. One without you. You stared in horror at Tooru’s figure standing at the open door. Guilt evident on his face.

“I never stopped loving you [y/n].”

“Tooru…”

“Goodbye, my love.” The slam of the door indicating his departure.

Maybe, you were hallucinating, and maybe you were only trying to comfort yourself, but you swore to yourself that he had one small tear fall onto his cheek. The cheek you were supposed to kiss goodbye to.

———

“[y/n]!”

The sound of your name being called out to you in the busy airport transported you back into the present. Startled, you look to see where the sound of your name came from, only to see a tall figure running towards you.

“Sorry I took so long, the plane had turbulence issues and- wait are you okay? Why are you crying?” He let go of his suitcase, gently holding your face in his hands, analysing your face with concern.

You laugh whilst wiping away your warm tears from your eyes.

“I’m fine Tobio, just remembered something,” you reassured.

“Must’ve been sad to make you cry out of nowhere,” he said concerned, raising an eyebrow.

“I swear I'm fine! Besides, how can I be upset when you had an urgent meeting,” you reached out for a hug from him. Tobio quickly hugging you back, relaxing himself onto you.

“I wouldn’t miss our anniversary and you know that.” He smiled fondly at you.

“I’m just so relieved to see you in one piece. This week was so stressful at work and clients not cooperating,” you rambled.

“Anyways! Happy anniversary, Tobio,” you grin up at him.

“Happy anniversary [n/n] .You’re everything that I could ever want, except for volleyball of course,” he slyly commented.

“Why you…” you grumbled, sarcastically rolling your eyes at him.

All he did was chuckle to himself, proud of his little joke.

“Remember who got you the opportunity to go on an airplane in business class!”

“I still can’t believe you won us a holiday here at the raffle party,”

“I’m just one lucky girl, what can I say?” you boasted, implying a certain someone made you lucky.

“Okay, okay i’m sorry. Shall we go?” He asked, ready for the eventful night to unfold.

“Yeah, we should,” you agreed, kissing him on the cheek.

The warm outside air and the lively night market marked the beginning of your memorable week. Here, together, in Argentina.

[transhuman-priestess]

Sometimes the struggles we go through to be ourselves can be as rewarding as the end result.

A pretty breezy one here. Only content notes are surgery mention and needle mention. No gore to be found, no sex neither. Just good ol' fashioned yearning.

This is definitely a bit of a right angle to my usual stuff. There's no horror, it's light on dialogue, but its in a very similar space to a lot of the other stuff, just a different way of going at it.

Daughter of Elysium

I scheduled the surgery without telling my parents. They wouldn’t understand.

When I came out as trans they were supportive, in perhaps the slightly awkward way that cis people tend to be when they want to be accepting of things they don’t understand. This was different though.

I sat in the waiting room of the clinic in Montevideo, lined with faux wood paneling and sleek glass. Peak 2010s architecture. An older building, but the clinic’s reputation spoke for itself. There was no way I was going to get this procedure done in North America. Too expensive, too niche.

Too many hoops to jump through, too. Go see this doctor, talk to this therapist. Walk with these crutches. Practice with this fake charger for a year. Bullshit, all of it. I just wanted to be me.

So I saved money where I could. I slept in the heat of the Californian summers, kept the lights off early in the winter, rode the train to work, ate cheap meals, canceled all my subscriptions, lived in a 300 sq foot apartment in Watsonville.

3 years and $100,000 Californian Dollars later, I got on a train in Santa Cruz for a 3-day journey to Uruguay.

It was late June, a few days before the solstice. This far south of the equator that meant the sun rose late and set early. It was early morning, a quarter to 7, and 5 hours ahead of California time. I was used to being awake at night, but that only made the early sunrise more disorienting.

“Lewis, Kara,” a thrill of adrenaline rushed through me as the receptionist called my name. After reciting my birthday to confirm my identity, I was taken back to preop. I changed into a surgical gown and then lay down on a gurney while a nurse ran an IV to my arm and started saline. I thought about asking what happened once the arm was removed, but I figured it wasn’t worth the explanation.

For the next 10 minutes I stared at the clock. I hadn’t brought anyone with me. This was something to do for me, by myself. No partner, no friends. I had brought a bag with one change of clothes, my passport, and my phone. I thought about calling my friend Cory, but decided against it. No sense in getting anyone worried. As far as the outside world was concerned, I was on vacation.

I guess that wasn’t too far from the truth.

At 7 sharp, a couple of orderlies came in, checked my name and date of birth, and released the brakes on the gurney. They wheeled me out into the chilled hallway, and through the double doors into the operating room.

Inside the surgeon, the anesthesiologist, and several techs were waiting. A nurse placed a mask on my face and told me to count backwards from ten. A sweet, chemical smell filled my nostrils, and the world faded out.

* * *

It wasn’t the first time I’d had surgery, so the novelty of coming up from the anesthesia surprised me. Rather than the slow, heavy feeling I’d expected, it was like waking up from a nap. Disorienting, but in a cozy way. Nothing hurt. I hadn’t expected that. Probably the painkillers were still feeding in.

I tried to open my eyes, but my lids only twitched slightly. I heard one of the nurses say “You’re awake! The doctor will be in to see you soon. Everything went well, congratulations.”

I tried to reply, but my jaw moved jerkily and I had trouble forming words. The result was a disjointed grunt emerging from my mouth. But I could tell that I had a mouth, which was good.

The nurse left. I could hear his shoes squeaking off into the distance. As they faded, the thrum of the HVAC replaced it, and an occasional mechanical whirring near me. My eyes were still closed, and for the first time I noticed the green letters in the corner of my vision. Instinctively, I tried to look at them, but they moved with my eyes. After a time I was able to make them stay put long enough to look at them.

ARLINGTON ROBOTICS SYSTEMS

BANGOR, WASHINGTON, CASCADE REPUBLIC

I managed to open my eyes after a few minutes. At first it was all much too bright, everything blown to white, but after a few seconds my vision dimmed to a comfortable level. I focused on a tiny hole in the floating ceiling above. After a moment, I managed to zoom my vision in.

I marveled for a time at the detail in the ceiling. This mass-produced object, fiberglass and paper, contained so much beauty. How many times had I stared a ceiling like this without noticing?

The doctor came in and reaffirmed that everything had gone well. She told me that rehab would start in a few days, once my new body’s systems stabilized and adjusted to neural commands. I tried to smile but couldn’t manage to get my face to move right.

The doctor chuckled and plugged a display into a port on the back of my new neck. She held it up to me, and I watched as the words “What is this for?” appeared on it. She explained that until my vocal rehab started to kick in, this display would help me communicate.

She told me to raise my arms out to my sides. I struggled with this task for a moment before finally managing to do so. For the first time I got a look at the body I’d picked out from the inside.

Gray plating, seams that slid over each other, an unapologetically mechanical body. I’d wanted that. They’re getting good at synthetic skin these days, but I wanted to distance myself from humanity. There was nothing wrong with humanity, but it never spoke to me. I’d always been somewhat apart.

* * *

I slept most of that first day. The next day they let me eat. The bioprocessor seemed to be working, the staff said, but I should keep it light, and stick to carbs rather than fat and protein until the new tract could build up a sufficient biome to support those.

Odd as it sounds, it was 36 hours post-op before I realized I hadn’t peed. The charging station that I hooked into took care of filtration and detox of what little biomass I had left. I felt suddenly elated. I actually tried to get up out of bed, and promptly tripped over my own foot, smashing my face against a wall.

The nurses rushed in, worry on their faces, but I couldn’t stop laughing, and that’s when I heard my voice.

It wasn’t like my old voice. It wasn’t cold and computerized, but warm, and rich, like an old Roland Jupiter, full of dense harmonics, singing highs, and comforting, enveloping lows.

Soon I was sitting on the floor, sobbing. My eyes didn’t water anymore, but I still went through the motions. I held my gray plastic hands to my face, and touched them to my cheeks. I felt the subtle vibrations as motors moved my eyes around. I had never felt so happy, so myself. So real.

* * *

After a week I was able to clumsily walk around the hospital room, and they moved me to the recovery house. I met a few other converts there. There was a girl named Morgan from Seattle, a guy named Case from Kansas City, a few others. I mostly kept to myself.

I started speech therapy shortly after the move. Lots of reading convoluted sentences, but also singing, reading poetry, even some play-acting. I grew to love my voice. It was obviously synthetic, but that only made it feel more like a part of me.

Motor therapy was interesting. They asked me if I played any instruments. I told them I played bass. The therapist walked to a closet and returned with a bass made entirely out of carbon fiber. I asked why they made it from that, the therapist told me I’d see shortly, and handed me the Bass.

I immediately gripped the neck with far more force than I’d intended, denting the frets and the strings. I said I understood now.

Time flew. The solstice came and went, and by August I could speak clearly, play “Highway Star,” and wash my own chassis without damaging it. I could dress myself. I could walk without tripping over my feet.

On an evening in early August, I bade farewell to my fellow converts at the recovery house, and made my way to the train station. I could have taken a cab, or the bus, but I opted to walk. It was 8 miles and took all night, but I enjoyed every moment of it. Never tiring, stopping for food to recharge myself here and there at convenience stores and night markets.

I settled into my roomette for the trip back to Santa Cruz, looking out at Montevideo Bay. I saw my reflection in the window of my train, and for the first time, really took it in, with eyes that were my own.

[the-winter-spider]

The Last Countdown | Drabble

Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Angst, death

A/N: Posted the happy new years fic now heres the sad one

----

The call came in late that afternoon, the kind of mission no one wanted on New Year’s Eve but couldn’t afford to ignore. A rogue Hydra cell had surfaced, armed with a weapon too dangerous to leave unchecked. The four of you scrambled into gear—there was no time to waste.

“Quick in, quick out,” Steve had assured everyone during the briefing. “Minimal risk.”

Bucky glanced at you as the Quinjet roared to life. You’d squeezed his hand, giving him a confident smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “We’ll be back in time to watch the ball drop.”

He’d nodded, even though the unease twisting in his gut hadn’t let up since the mission briefing. Something felt off, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it. Instead, he leaned closer, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be careful, doll.”

The mission started smoothly enough. The Hydra base was tucked away in a dense forest, its defenses formidable but not insurmountable for the team. Steve led the charge, while you and Bucky partnered up to dismantle a line of armed guards patrolling the perimeter.

“Watch my six,” you called over your shoulder as you sprinted toward a control panel near the base’s entrance.

“Always,” Bucky replied, firing off a clean shot that dropped an approaching guard before they could get close to you.

The four of you moved like a well-oiled machine, systematically clearing the base room by room. But as you entered the heart of the facility—a vast, dimly lit chamber housing the weapon you were there to neutralize—the operation spiraled out of control.

“Trap!” Natasha’s voice crackled over the comms as the doors slammed shut behind you and Bucky. The chamber lit up with blinding red lights, and the sound of machinery powering up filled the air.

“Y/N, get down!” Bucky shouted, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind a stack of crates just as the first explosion rocked the room.

The Hydra weapon—some kind of energy-based bomb—was unstable, and its protective casing had been compromised in the crossfire. Every shot fired, every explosion, seemed to hasten its countdown.

“We need to disable it now!” you yelled, scanning the room for any sign of the device’s control panel.

“On it!” Bucky moved to cover you as you dashed toward a console near the weapon.

But then you saw it—a Hydra operative in the shadows, raising a grenade launcher aimed directly at Bucky.

“Bucky, move!”

You didn’t think. You just acted. Sprinting toward him, you pushed him out of the way as the grenade hit its mark, detonating with deafening force.

The blast threw you both across the room. Pain lanced through your side as you hit the ground hard, gasping for air. You looked down to see blood pooling beneath you, a jagged piece of shrapnel embedded deep in your abdomen.

“Y/N!” Bucky scrambled to your side, his metal arm trembling as he pressed his hand against the wound. “No, no, no. You’re gonna be okay. Just hang on, alright?!”

Your vision blurred as the weapon’s countdown ticked closer to zero. “Bucky… you have to… disable it…”

“Forget the weapon!” he shouted, his voice breaking. “I’m not leaving you!”

Steve’s voice came through the comms, frantic. “Buck, we need that device deactivated now, or it’s taking out the whole forest—and us with it!”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand, your grip weak but insistent. “Go, Bucky. Please… save them, Ill wait okay? Il wait.”

“No!” He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “I’m not leaving you, baby. Don’t ask me to do that, please, I cant, I cant..."

But your strength was fading fast, and you knew there was no other way. “You’re stronger than this, Buck… you can, please, for me?"

For a moment, he hesitated, torn between saving you and stopping the weapon. Then Steve’s voice came through again, yelling about the countdown—seconds left now. "For you.." He breathed out

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your forehead, his tears mingling with the blood staining your skin. “I love you too, doll. Always.”

And then he was gone, running toward the device. You watched him through dimming eyes, your chest aching not from the pain of the wound but from the knowledge that this would most likely be the last time you’d see him and that hurt more than any wound.

You reached up tearing your comms out of your ear, you couldn't handle 2 more goodbyes, all you had in you was one. You could feel it, death, looming in the corners of your vision, pulling you in but you fought it with everything you had left because you wanted those blue eyes to be the last thing you saw, not some dingy hydra roof. You sighed when you heard the machine powering down. You could feel him, "I waited” You mumbled.

The clock on the wall read 11:52 PM. Only 8 minutes until the New Year. But time was the furthest thing from Bucky's mind as he cradled you in his arms amidst the rubble.

“Stay with me, baby, please,” he pleaded, voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. His gloved hand pressed against the wound in your abdomen, but it was too late. You knew it.

Your trembling hand reached up to touch his cheek, brushing away the tears streaking his face. “I’m sorry… I thought we had more time…”

“No, don’t—don’t talk like that,” he choked, shaking his head as if sheer force of will could keep you alive. “We’re gonna go home. I’ll take care of you, I promise I’ll take care of you, You’re gonna be okay sweetheart, you gotta be.”

“Your eyes….” A weak smile tugged at your lips, the kind that had once lit up his entire world but now only broke his heart. “I love you, Bucky. Always.”

The words were barely a whisper, and then you were gone.

Bucky froze, his entire body going cold. The sounds of the battle around him faded to nothing, drowned out by the unbearable silence of your absence.

--

Hours later, back at the compound, Steve found him in your shared room, still clutching the small velvet box he had intended to give you the next morning. The ring inside, simple and elegant, was supposed to be a promise of the future you’d never have.

“I was going to ask her tomorrow,” Bucky murmured, his voice hollow. “New Year’s Day. A fresh start. It was supposed to be my year Stevie, finally.”

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder "Buck.." He started, but Bucky shrugged it off, stepping away. “Why, Steve?” he asked, turning to face his oldest friend with tears streaming down his face. “What did I do to deserve this? Huh? What kind of life is this—watching everyone I love get ripped away from me? I—” He broke off, his hands curling into fists. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t.”

Steve tried to respond, but Bucky didn’t wait to hear it. He walked out into the freezing night, leaving behind the remnants of his broken heart and the dream of a life he’d never have.

The New Year arrived, but for him, it felt like the end of everything.

[genericpuff]

oh boy it's that time again

when rachel posts 'video progress' of her work and we proceed to dissect it like a frog in 9th grade science class

like ok first the caption of "is persephone the chicken and hades the egg" makes no fucking sense except to anyone who overthinks it and goes "wait is that a reference to the popularly-perpetuated version of the myth where persephone went down to the underworld willingly and hades didn't actually exist???" because if it is ima scream lmao

but MORE IMPORTANTLY-

Here's the transcript of what she's saying in the video:

"I think I've always wanted to write Hades' and Persephone's story because obviously I really like them. It's like very much a chicken and egg situation because I think in the beginning I thought that I was going to use a very abstract black and white style, and I realized it wasn't very enticing or fun for me, um... and I started drawing these very like vibrant characters and as I drew them I understood more about the story the more that I explored the art style, um and I guess an example of that is, y'know, Persephone is like a very bright color um, and the Underworld, is a very dark dark blue, and so when she says she really sticks out so it's just environmental uh processes like that that really helped inspire the direction of the story."

(despite her expanding on the "chicken and the egg" bit it still doesn't make sense imo lmao)

But what we're seeing isn't S1 LO, it's actually from S3 of LO:

But um... you notice anything interesting about the screenshot I just showed you?

That literally looks NOTHING like what we see in the final panel. At the VERY least I think this goes to show how overcooked it becomes in post-production, when they add the canvas layer and hypersaturate the shit out of the colors, but even the blending technique just isn't matching up?

A lot of what she's doing in this video also feels very... non-existent, like she's brushing her pen around but very little is happening so it feels more like her just putting down random brush strokes to try and make it seem put-together but really she's just kind of pushing colors around and/or doing nothing. Especially when, again, what she's painting here looks nothing like the final picture (so at best it's a lot of wasted work??)

And knowing what we know about the assistants drawing the characters separately so that Rachel can rearrange them in the final episode layout... I don't wanna call foul play here, but this feels like yet another attempt on Rachel's behalf to make her process seem more involved than it is by simply redrawing a scene for the performative aspect of it all. It's like the "sketches" in the books looking way too 'clean' for the final product and giving the impression that she just sketched over the final panels to make them look pretty enough for print.

I also wanna mention that for some reason she's drawing this on her iPad when she owns a Cintiq. It could be because she was drawing this while abroad in the US for her conventions last fall, but despite clearly being ahead of schedule, she still wound up drawing the final episode the night of-

Oh yeah and btw there are like a million clipping layers for what looks like just a simple drawing of Demeter. And this lines up with our previous theories about her using like 128549021809 layers for literally one character.

And aside from all that her commentary, as always, is very nothingburger, just a bunch of word salad. Like she's literally trying to explain LO's color theory as "well Persephone is bright pink and the Underworld is dark blue so she sticks out! That's all you need to know!"

IDK, I'm not coming to any sort of ironclad conclusion based off this one video, but it does feel like yet another desperate attempt to prove that she does work on LO and doesn't just leave it all to her assistants to do at the last minute. But like... she's kind of screwed in that argument either way, because even if she draws the majority of panels in LO, that just further proves the argument that she's stopped trying.

[toms-cherry-trees]

"Look After You" || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Time and distance cannot break certain promises

Word count: 4.2k

Tags: Mentions of war, mental asylums, unjust imprisonment, mentions of controversial mental health treatments, cross dressing (?), implications of violence against women, illness, no betareading we go in raw

Author's note: You might have seen this post where I mention the life of Dorothy Lawrence. Well this is very loosely based on her life mixed with Tommy's story. Left it very open to a part 2 if people like the premise.

(Yes my people watch me put together moodboards instead of choosing gifs)

Requested tag (hope not to disappoint) @brummiereader @emotionalcadaver

The asylum stood tall and imponent before Tommy’s gaze, its towering central dome and flanking turrets framed by the bright sun rays of a cheerful spring afternoon. The radiant gardens contrasted dramatically with the derelict state of the building itself; rusty and broken drainpipes hanging from the roof, rotten wood frames and shattered window panes, missing chunks of brick on the walls, revealing the inner framing and plaster. Nothing about that place inspired trust to those who crossed its threshold, let alone hopes of betterment. The lamentable exterior stood like the perfect match of the decadence within.  

The smell of rot assaulted him the second he entered. The paint had started to peel off, and moisture stains crawled across walls and ceiling. Most windows in the main hall were shuttered, and the incandescent light bulbs did little to cut through the darkness, casting a sickly shadow over the room. The orderly that welcomed him in the entrance had an embittered face, and he questioned Tommy on his name, whom he was visiting and his reasons to. He patted him down and overturned his pockets, making him leave behind anything that could be used to harm or be harmed. Cap, cigar case, lighter, sleeve garters and shoelaces stayed behind while another orderly led him through long hallways and endless locked doors towards the morning hall where he’d meet the purpose of his visit.

Finally, they stopped before a wide set of oaken double doors with panels of rubbed glass, which allowed him a faint peek of what happened on the other side. The orderly barely opened the door enough to enter himself and told Tommy to wait outside, as if he feared something may escape from within given the chance. After a few minutes he returned, leaving the gap open for Tommy to pass through.

 “Sister Janice will take you to her. Don’t look at other patients. Don’t talk to other patients. If they come to you, ignore them. Don’t take anything they give you”

Perplexed, curious and mostly annoyed by all the delays, Tommy ducked under the orderly’s arm while he held the door open. As soon as he stepped inside the orderly let go, and the door closed behind him with a heavy click.

The sudden brightness hurt his eyes after the unceasing darkness, and Tommy had to squint briefly as his pupils grew accustomed to his surroundings. An ample hall stretched before him, arch windows spanning from floor to ceiling lining the west and north walls. Moth eaten draperies of blue velvet had been drawn back to allow sunlight in, in hopes of insufflating some life into the gelid heart of the asylum.

The room had surely once been a magnificent ballroom, but had now been reduced to the sad, dirty, abandoned alcove where the non-aggressive patients spent most of their waking hours, some engaged in the very few activities offered to them, others dragging their feet and mumbling to themselves like lost souls, their gazes absent and their appearance unkempt. Not one person appeared to have a coherent thought there, and Tommy wondered if it was due to their own ailments, or due to the medicines the nurses forced down their throats to keep them tame and peaceful, albeit stupid. 

As Tommy walked past, he couldn't help but notice the way his presence drew attention from them. The patients stopped in their tracks to stare at him as if he were the most marvellous wonder they had ever seen. They pointed at him, uttering incoherences and laughing at jokes no one else heard. Some tried to get close but were forced back with a sharp gesture by the nun accompanying him, whom only now Tommy noticed, carried a mean looking leather strap, hanging side by side with a rosary from her cord belt.

At long last, she came into view. Slouched on a rocking chair facing the windows, a ragged purple cardigan thrown over a white, floor length dress, resembling more a nightgown than any sort of decent clothing. A white linen cap covered her hair, and Tommy noticed that the ties had been removed, as had been from the rest of her garments. She looked thinner, thinner even than she did in France. She gave no indication that she had noticed their presence, her dulled eyes fixated on the gardens outside.

 “I have it from here, sister” Tommy dismissed the nun with a wave of his hand, dragging a nearby stool to sit next to the woman.

 “I’m sorry Mr. Shelby, but I cannot allow you to be unsupervised with a patient. She seems tame now, but who knows what atrocities a woman of sin like her might commit”

Tommy wanted to snort. She barely looked strong enough to hold herself in the chair, how could she harm anyone?

“She won’t attack me sister” Tommy insisted “Now step back, and I will make sure the asylum is handsomely rewarded for your troubles.”

The nun opened her mouth, ready to argue, but then chose against it. The asylum could do with some extra coin, after all. She straightened up and smoothed her habit, perhaps a way to reinstate her authority that Tommy had so brazenly challenged. 

“You have half an hour” She stated at last before walking away towards a group of patients who were seemingly arguing over a doll.

Tommy’s gaze returned to the woman in front of him, who continued to be absent from the world around her, and who gave no sign of life other than the steady rising and falling of her shoulders with each breath. Thomas allowed the pause to linger between them a few seconds longer, but he didn’t want to waste his allotted time. He wouldn’t put it past these people to drag him out like that; the laws of men did not apply in these sorts of places.

He called her name softly, in a nearly soothing whisper. Once, twice, thrice, yet it did not do to her more than the drafts howling through the broken panes or the maniac laughs of the patients around them. He didn’t want to touch her and risk startling her, but he didn’t want to spend his visit staring at her left cheek. He took his last chance, using this time a different name, a name he had not pronounced since 1915.

“Private Anders”

The name stirred something in her mind. Her back straightened a bit and her features quivered in recognition. Slowly, stiffly, she turned towards Tommy, her eyebrows first furrowing in confusion then rising in surprise.

“Sergeant Major?” Her shock could not be disguised, and she readied to rise and salute, but Tommy motioned for her to remain seated.

“At ease, private” 

~

Tommy recalled perfectly the first day he saw her. They were stationed near Albert, digging up a new front line as they tried to gain terrain from the Germans. The troops from the British Expeditionary Force and the 179th tunnelling company consisted mostly of coal miners, all turned sappers whose task was to ready up the land for battle. The clay rich soil basically melted between their fingers when it rained, making the digging of trenches and shelters a never-ending battle. The dampness crept up their legs and seeped into their bones, and Tommy had seen one too many soldiers whose feet rotted inside their boots. Even the strongest men, used to work from sun to sun in the depths of the coal mines breathing dust and methane, would sometimes succumb to the elements. 

Tommy worked paired with Tom Dunn, a man as thick of back as he was of skull. He could easily lift an adult man and throw him across the field like a sack of potatoes, and legend has it he pulled the coal carts in the mine when the horses couldn’t. If left to it, he could probably dig out the trench with only his hands and his helmet.

He had been the one to introduce Tommy to her. Dunn had hidden that little lunatic in an abandoned cottage, not too far from where the troops were stationed. Somehow, she had obtained a uniform, which she had padded with cotton wool to flatten her curves and broaden her shoulders. Her hair had been cut in a military style, scrapes on her cheeks simulated a shaving rash, and potassium permanganate attempted to sharpen her jaw and cheekbones with dark shadows. 

She slept in a damp mattress, with little more than a threadbare blanket to keep her warm; she had no means of acquiring something better, nor could she light a fire in the dusty hearth for fear of being discovered. Dunn had been feeding her with whatever he could spare from his own rations or snatch from others, which meant she had been eating the minimum for survival, since the woods offered nothing but naked branches at that time of year. 

Tommy had been left thunderstruck, far too much to react properly. A million questions came to his lips, and a million died there as his mind couldn’t exactly put into words what he wanted to know. His gaze flickered between them both, who looked at him pleadingly like a couple of children asking their parents to stay up late. His first instinct was to call up their superior and hand her over to them, for her own safety, but then he thought about it better. The things that could happen to her if he handed her over to the war office…and that’s it, if they handed her over in the first place, or chose to make justice themselves.

No, for the sake of her safety and his conscience, he would play along with them for now.

“What is your name?” He inquired, a simple question to cut through the gelid silence that had befallen them.

For an answer, she handed Tommy papers and a matching dog tag. Forgeries, most likely, and very good ones, which meant she spent money on those. Paying from her own pocket to go to war

They held each other's gaze for endless seconds. At long last, Tommy offered a handshake.

“Welcome to the 179th tunnelling company, Private John Anders. I’ll look after you” 

~ 

Tommy hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the meeting. The person who sat before him, hunched and dirty and completely lost to the world, bore no resemblance to the fiery, and perhaps a little unhinged, woman that had gone through every length to infiltrate herself in the front line. Years of memory seemed to have been erased from her mind, but she recalled vividly everything she went through in her time in France. She did not know the day and year she lived in but could easily recite the names of every man she met from the 179th, as well as every technique they implemented to dig out the clay.

Tommy was sure that, if he were to put a shovel in her hands, she would unconsciously start digging. 

He had partly placated his worries by placing a nurse in the asylum, one handpicked by Polly and paid out of his own pocket, to look after her. But that solution felt like not enough. Not by a mile. What that place did to her, what they were turning her into…Killing her bit by bit, stripping away her sanity to erase from her any memory she held of those weeks in the front. He still recalled the tunnel collapse, when the rain-soaked clay began to crumble over them like cold tar, obscuring their vision and sticking their feet to the ground. How the men dragged out each other, coated from head to toe in the reddish paste. She had tripped, her foot had gotten stuck, he couldn’t tell anymore. All he knew was that she had been left behind, and he had re-entered the tunnel for her. Feeling his way through the darkness, keeping an eye on the entrance, calling her name out; her fake name, for even in the face of danger he had the mental fortitude to remember the importance of her cover up. How she dropped her own facade, her fearful voice calling him as she stretched her arm towards him.

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy

“Tommy!” Billowed an angered female voice, dragging his thoughts back to the present time. 

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, attempting to dissipate the fogs of the past that laid over them. Because he was not in the tunnels, nor in the Western front. He was sitting in his office, behind his desk, nursing a whiskey in his hands and with Polly sitting across him, equally angered and perplexed at her nephew’s inattention.

“You know I don’t appreciate my words being wasted”. It sounded like a threat, but half of the things Polly said usually did “If you had no interest in this briefing, you could have rescheduled our meeting”.

“You hate your time being wasted” Tommy pointed out.

“Which is exactly what you’re doing now” She remarked.

Silence lingered in the office while Polly lit a new cigarette and Tommy downed his drink, which had already begun to warm in his hands. He stood to pour another, which he finished almost immediately.

“So” Polly began, exhaling the smoke in an elegant blow “Will you tell me what’s on your mind?” As usual, Polly could see through him as easily as one would do through a clean glass. It unnerved him sometimes, to be laid open so vulnerably under her watchful gaze.

“It’s nothing” Tommy sat before the fire; hands laced behind his head in an attempt to seem relaxed.

“There’s been many things on your mind, Tommy, and nothing has never been one of them”. Polly’s slender fingers ran across the glass bottles on the bar cart before settling on gin, pouring herself a more than generous serving.

“You’re thinking of her”.

Tommy immediately thought of denying it, but what was the point? When Polly knew, no one could tell her otherwise. And as much as he hated others meddling in his business, the words came tumbling before he could hold them back.

“I’m just worried. She’s not the same she used to be. I don’t know what they do to her in that place, but she’s changed. Those medicines they give her, and who knows what else they’ve done. You know the treatments” He shook his head, as if to dismiss everything he said “Just worried” 

“It’s been many years since you last saw her. Everyone changed after the war. God knows you did”.

“This is not the same. They’re killing her there” Tommy stared up at the ceiling, as if hoping to find a solution to his problems in the plaster. Polly only watched him, pondering over her next words carefully. She only hoped she would not regret whatever her nephew chose to do next.

“If her wellbeing worries you so, you have to do the right thing”

He frowned, turning to look at her with confusion clear in his eyes. Polly sipped the gin, swirling it around her mouth as she gave it a last thought. This was one of the far and few times in which Tommy proved he had a heart, and that softened her as well.

“If you are worried, you act. If they’re killing her in there, you get her out”

~

The sun had finally shone upon the soldiers after nearly a week of bad weather, when rain and fog had turned the living conditions in the trenches into nearly inhumane. The soldiers were happy, for they would no longer shiver until their bones ached, and they would at last be able to put their clothes and themselves to dry. The tunnellers were less than pleased, for the sun had dried the clay into a solid wall, forcing them to exhaust their muscles to dig out chunks the size of their heads while the sweat ran down their temples and backs. Their comrades kept them supplied with water, but it felt like pouring water on a bottomless bucket. 

Tommy worked side by side with her. Him. Her. Her identity still got tied in his mind, and he had to think through every word addressed in her direction for fear of blowing her cover. He watched her out of the corner of the eye as she swung the pickaxe with a strength and determination he never expected to see in a woman. Despite her resilience, Tommy worried about her, and kept a watchful gaze for any sign of exhaustion. She could not afford to be taken ill or injured, for a trip to the medical tent would be enough to unravel all her carefully crafted lies. He had to take care of her.

They both worked in the very end of the trench, and the sounds around them would conceal any hushed conversation. Tommy’s curiosity was stronger than his willpower

“Why?”

She didn’t react at first, and Tommy thought she either didn’t listen to him, or chose to ignore him, both of which were valid. But before he could ask again, she whispered back, keeping her manly tone

“Why what?”

“Why come here? What sane person would come here, on her own free will, to be forced into coldness and starvation? Risk your life, and for what purpose? Couldn’t find good places to dig back in England?”

She snorted, the sound quite lighter than any man’s laugh, so she concealed it by clearing her throat

“I wanted to serve my country, same as you. Is there any sin on that?”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night to sleep?”

She stopped digging for a moment, leaving the pickaxe embedded in the clay. She sat in the upturned bucket they used as stool, wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. She couldn’t work shirtless, and their uniforms had been made to shield from the cold only. Tommy offered her water; she drank a sip and poured the rest on her head. He noticed her hair had grown again, and curled behind her ears. He made a mental note to give her a trim after nightfall.

“I just wanted to see what it was like. What it really was. They don’t tell us the truth back home. The newspapers make it sound as if the front is almost peaceful and the men are just laying back eating turkey while the Germans fall a hundred a day. I wanted the truth, and I want to write about it. Make a book of all the lies they fed us home.”

Her reasoning didn’t sit well with him. All that effort, that trouble, that risk, just to figure out if war was as bad as she thought? Mad, mad in the head this one.

“And what does your family think you’re doing away from home?”

She scratched her chin, in the same way Tommy did when he got a shaving rash from his blunt razors. She had picked up male mannerisms quite fast, particularly his own

“Not much family left to care what I do or stop doing. I said I’d come to France to volunteer as a nurse, but they most likely think I came as a camp follower. If they knew what I’m up to, they would have me committed to the closest madhouse”

“The madhouse is where you belong” Tommy replied, albeit jokingly, as he stopped his work to pull out a cigarette from his pocket. But he was interrupted by a ball of clay being tossed at his face with masterful precision, dampened for maximum effect.

“Shut up, Sergeant Major”

 ~

Blue skies and a pleasant breeze welcomed them at the gates of Arrow House. Tommy chose to drive this time, taking the advice from the doctor who would oversee her care, who suggested she be exposed to the least amount of people possible during the first days as she adjusted to life outside. Only Tommy, Frances and the nurse who would be her primary caretaker.

She stared at the world around her with such wonder, like a blind whose sight had been restored. Every tree, every bird, the very landscape that surrounded his manor brought such wonder onto her face, like a child with a Christmas tree. Her happiness almost managed to convince him that this was, in fact, a good idea. 

When Polly told him to get her out, he knew she meant to put her in a home of her own, with a caretaker, and allow her to have a life of her own. And Tommy considered the idea, for a while. To place her in a nice neighbourhood, in a house with a garden and a balcony where she could enjoy the sun, with a nurse and maids and a car. But it didn’t sit right with him. She had been alone ever since they took her. Imprisoned until the war ended, and then released only to be taken to the madhouse at first chance. Not one familiar face around her for nearly a decade. No, Tommy wouldn’t take her out of a cage just to put her back in a smaller, prettier one. She needed someone to protect her. And for better or worse, that one could only be Tommy. 

When the car came to a halt, she was the first one out, gaping at the imponent state which Tommy owned. 

“Is this where you live, Sergeant Major?” The wonder was palpable in her voice. But the only thing Tommy noticed was that after everything she still couldn’t find it in her to call him by his name.

“2000 acres of land, of which 12 are just garden, and 750 acres of farming land”

She cocked an eyebrow, and in the amused twinkle of her eyes Tommy saw a glimpse of the one she used to be.

“Are you a farmer now, sir?” She disguised her laugh behind the handkerchief she insisted on carrying, looking down like a bashful schoolgirl.

Tommy pulled out a cigarette; he felt the corner of his lips pulled into the shadow of a smile, pleased to see her spirits lifted.

“My business is more focused on progress and modernity, but I wouldn’t reject the idea. Perhaps one day it’ll come in hand to have crops and cows”

“That would be the bloody day” She didn’t even try to hide her laughter this time “Our mighty Sergeant Major, dressed in overalls and with mud up to his knees shovelling cow shit”

“I find myself more interested in horse shit these days. Come on, I’ll show you around” 

Tommy gave her a complete tour of the house and adjacent grounds, both to show her everything that would be at her complete disposal, and also as a way to show off how far he had come since they were both in the trenches, hunched over a meagre fire lit inside an empty can and sharing a homemade cigarette made from tobacco leftovers. Her eyes were wide with wonder, her fingers running over tapestries, leathers and carved wood with childlike wonder

He saved her room for last. A wide bedroom at the very back of the house, situated in a corner with plenty of windows. It had a view of the back of the state, so she could enjoy the gardens, the horses and the surrounding woods. In the corner with the most sunlight Tommy had placed a writing desk, supplied with paper, pens, ink and a brand new typewriter. Amidst everything sat a bunch of old and worn pages, all of different sizes and materials, kept together nicely with leather cord. She picked it up gingerly, running her thumb over the first page. Even though the paper was stained and dusty, the words could be read as easily as the first day she wrote them.

Tears flooded her eyes, and she hugged the improvised diary to her chest like it was a most prized possession. And perhaps it was. She turned towards Tommy, a mixture of bewilderment and eternal gratitude plastered on her features

“Where did you get it? I thought they would have had it destroyed when they locked me up”

Tommy only smirked, pulling out a cigarette from the golden case he carried “Remember what I told you? Always make sure someone owes you something”

That gesture, so small yet so meaningful, shifted something inside her. Her eyes brimmed with tears she attempted to fight, but they won in the end. She practically jumped into Tommy’s arms, hugging him with the eagerness of a person who has been denied a caring touch for far too long.

“How will I ever be able to thank you enough, Sergeant Major?”

His free arm circled her frame, returning the gesture

“You can start by calling me Tommy”

~

Worry crept up Tommy’s spine as the higher ups did their rounds to inspect the work on the freshly dug trenches. It had been three days since she last showed up, and he would soon run out of lies to cover up for “Private Anders’” absence. 

As much as she tried to deny it, finally the harsh conditions had caught up to her. Her health had gone down a slippery slope with the arrival of winter. First it had been just a fretless dry cough, easily softened with pine tea. But then came the bone pains, the headaches, the constant fatigue. The dampness of her safe haven had seeped into her bones and caused some sort of rheumatism. Tommy noticed the swelling of her hands as they struggled to grip the pickaxe. Her hair began to fall out in clumps.

The shivers and the fever had finally knocked her off her feet. She had been unable to leave her cottage, which in turn worsened her condition even further. Tommy had tried to bring her something more substantial to eat, but she seemed unable to eat more than a few bites of stale bread dipped in some coffee the Americans had given them. Dry, suffocating coughs racked her body until she had to gasp for air, her teeth and lips speckled with blood.

“This is the end line” She had mumbled weakly during the third night, while Tommy tried to desperately convince her to light a fire to warm and dry the place

“No. You are not going to die. I won’t allow it. I told you I’d take care of you” He stated firmly, sitting on the floor by her side with her hand in his, his other one cupping her feverish cheek. He had been in a similar spot, not too long ago. Watching life fade away from a young woman’s eyes. He refused to let her die, not like that, not there where he would have to dump her body in the river.   

“I am not going to die” She stated with a conviction her current condition didn’t match “But to survive, I have to turn myself in”

The idea of handing her over to the war office filled Tommy with panic

“No, no you cannot do that. Do you have any idea what they could do to you? Your best prospect would be to be thrown in jail, to be given 10 years for impersonating a soldier. And that’s if the higher ups are feeling compassionate” He shuddered at thinking what those wolves would do to her “Listen, I get leave tomorrow night. I’ll go to the nearest town, get some medicine, maybe I can pawn some things and get you a new blanket. You-”

“No” With great effort, she propped herself up in one elbow. Tommy couldn’t help but notice the strands of hair left in the pillow “I’ve implicated you long enough. The excuses and lies you have made for me are enough to have you dishonourably discharged and tried. You have done everything you could for me, and for that I am  forever indebted to you, Sergeant Major. This next chapter in my life, I have to write it alone”

She sounded dejected and disappointed, as if she had failed some unwritten expectation of her adventure. But Tommy thought quite the opposite. He only felt admiration for the things she had put herself through in order to tell her story. He still thought she was mad in the head, but in a completely different way

“Will you mention my name when you write your book?” He asked jokingly, helping her lay back down slowly, pulling the ragged blanket up to her chin

“Only if you want to be jailed next to me for helping an intruder” She laughed, but the sound was cut short by another fit of coughing “I’ll dedicate it to you, Sergeant Major. Everything I write and do will be because of you”

~

Tommy awoke with a startle. His eyes were wide open, darting around the room as he tried to locate the source of the disturbance. Everything seemed to be calm in his room. And then it happened again. A dry thud in the wall, followed by a muffled scream.

In a heartbeat he was out of bed, gun in hand. He followed the noises, which seemed to grow louder the closer he got to her bedroom. The door was ajar, allowing a sliver of moonlight to project in the floor, in which Tommy could see two shadows moving.

He stormed inside, gun ready to fire. But he didn’t find an intruder, no. Just her, on her knees, banging her fists against the wall as she screamed. Her nurse stood by her side, amidst a disaster of clothes and books and other objects, unsuccessfully trying to coax her back to bed

“Miss, please. The hour is quite late. You need sleep”

“No, no. The walls are coming down. We have to get out, the roof’s collapsing!” She yelled desperately, clawing at the wall trying to dig herself out of some dark place that only existed in her head. He saw her nails tear the wallpaper with ferocity. And then he noticed the nurse unlocking a cabinet and pulling out a syringe

“No” He said almost immediately as he put a firm hand on the nurse’s arm “Go to bed. I have this”

“But Mr. Shelby!”

“I said go. Leave me with her”

The nurse doubted, holding his gaze, but chose to exit the room, closing the door behind her.

Tommy walked towards her slowly, afraid he would startle her. He gingerly touched her arm, but his presence went as unnoticed as a speck of dust. He called out her name, again and again, without success. The mud had seeped deep in her brain, as it had done his, and blocked her senses from the outside world. In order to get through, Tommy had to get into the mud with her

He stood tall, in martial position, hands behind his back

“Private Anders!”

Quick like a lightning bolt, she stood up and saluted in a firm position. Tears streaked her face and her entire body quivered like an autumn leaf

“Sergeant Major sir!”

“At ease, private. You are relieved of your duties. Time to go back home”

Like the lifting of a spell, her eyes glossed over as she blinked slowly, looking around her from the bed, to the things she had thrown around in haste, and finally towards Tommy. Her lower lip quivered

“What is happening to me?”

Her knees faltered. Tommy lunged forward before she could hit herself, coming down to the floor with her held in his arms. She burrowed herself in his chest, her fingers clinging to his shirt as she wept, her body racked by sobs. Tommy shushed her quietly, his fingers carding through her hair

“Don’t cry. I’ll take care of you”