#<- tagging for the comment about his dialogue just to be safe I guess

[bayetea]

Thoughts on Luke? just curious, i love all your pjo stuff and i saw that you like thaluke so 👀

(resisting the urge to say "no one gets him like I do") to be completely honest barring that one thing luke is probably the best written original character in the entire percy jackson franchise

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter XV: Right Now It Feels Good Not to Stand

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev. | read bee's diary

songs for this chapter: girl is a gun by halsey, you first by paramore, bloodhound by scowl, wonderwall by oasis, ICU by phoebe bridgers

summary: something compels you to keep exploring this new, friendlier territory.

a/n: strap in bitch (affectionate) this shit is LONG. have fun!

chapter tags: more ridiculous conversations, raunchiness, adult language, explicit descriptions of sex, hurt/comfort, angst angst more angst fluff but also angst. perv!Eddie strikes again, anxious reader, friendly flirting, idiots flirting without admitting it. lore drops, dialogue, cheesy pick up lines and bold statements. lots of fun!! | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI each chapter will have its own content/trigger warnings

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. THIS WORK IS BEING REPOSTED TO MY NEW AO3! Feel free to check it out! Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. I am satiated by reblogs and comments, so please! Interact with my work! It motivates me to write more, and it helps to know someone out there is reading

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r @justalotoffanfiction @bl0ssomanddie

--

“What’d the waffle ever do to you?” Chris teases, sliding you a glass of orange juice as you continue brutally stabbing your breakfast. “At least let it die with some dignity.” 

You just grunt in response, shoving a bite of fluffy buttermilk goodness into your mouth. 

“C’mon, what’s wrong? Rough night?”

It’s Sunday, and you spent most of your Saturday off stewing in your thoughts, unable to relax after waking up in Eddie’s arms. Your brain has been going miles per minute, guessing and theorizing about what he could possibly have meant by “making up for lost time.”. “Yeah, you could say that.” You stab your fork into your plate again, barely getting any waffle onto the tines of your fork.

“Anything I could help with?” He leans on the counter, munching on a piece of bacon. 

“Probably not. I don’t think you’d be interested in any of it.” Plus, you’re missing massive pieces of this puzzle.

“Try me?” Chris sits down on the stool next to you, his own plate steaming with a pile of fresh waffles and crispy bacon. Breakfast has always been your favorite meal, and it’s sweet that your brother still puts so much effort into it for you. 

You fill your brother in on as much as you think is necessary, including the nightmare and how you’d woken up. When you’re done, Chris is gaping at you, half chewed waffle still on his tongue. “Ew, dude. Close your mouth.” 

He does, swallowing the bite before speaking. “You slept together?!” “No! That is not what I said.”

“Okay, then why are you freaking out?”

“Because! Since you’ve both come back I have fallen into this alternate reality where Eddie and I are almost friends, and it’s freaking me out. It’s like the anger I’ve been harboring in my heart is just gone, and that doesn’t feel fair. I should be seething at both of you, but mostly I’m just grateful you’re both alive and safe.”

“It sounds like you’ve solved your own problem, Bee. You’re mad for no reason, so you can stop being mad.” He says it so flippantly, and you feel your chest tighten.

“But I’m still mad. I’m pissed off. I lost six years with you both and with no scapegoat to blame it on.” You rub your hand down your face, trying to keep your tears from falling. 

“You want my honest opinion?” You nod. “I think you love him.” You roll your eyes, but he doubles down. “I’m serious! I know you love me, but I think this whole thing bothers you so much because you’re wondering what you two could have been if none of the bad shit happened. You’re dwelling on the past because you regret cutting him out, whether you can admit that to yourself or not. You’re coming to see that he’s not the selfish, careless guy you had been making him out to be in your head. I don’t blame you, and neither should you. You created that version of him with the information you were given. I would have done the same thing, probably. You have the right to be upset, but don’t let that prevent you from losing even more time with him. He’s here now. I don’t see him leaving again any time soon, either.” 

It pains you, how much sense your brother is making. As much as you want to be angry with him, with Eddie, you know it’s all in vain. “God, I hate it when you’re right.”

Chris’s face breaks into a shit eating grin. “I know.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“I don’t have that answer, Bumblebee. That’s for you to figure out. You’ve made progress, though. Just do what Eddie and I couldn’t. Be honest.”

–

> can we talk?

Oh god. You send the message before you lose your nerve. Then a second:

>  like in person?

Eddie (block later): now?

> if ur not doing anything. can i come over? chris is here, otherwise i’d host u

Eddie (block later): course

Eddie (block later): not yet tho come in like an hour i gotta shower

You find yourself stressing over what to wear to Eddie’s when you read his reply, digging through your dresser drawers for a shirt that doesn’t immediately give that fact away. Finally, you find the one you’re looking for: A cropped tank that rests just above your navel, a soft periwinkle color. You pair it with a flannel and a pair of baggy cargo pants, and slip on your shoes before you realize it’s only been fifteen minutes since he’d told you to wait an hour.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” You wonder aloud, frustrated with yourself. As a distraction, you turn your speaker on, your phone automatically connecting to the bluetooth. You scroll through your library until one song jumps out at you, the perfect one to take your mind off the waiting. You shake out your nerves as Halsey’s Girl is A Gun plays, probably annoying the shit out of your brother through your thin walls. You bang your head, two-step, and air guitar your way through the song, out of breath as it fades, and a new song begins. You keep the energy going, this time with Paramore’s You First. You remember fondly when you’d seen them live last year, the way Hayley thrashed to this song as they opened the show. The playlist takes on a theme of angry girls, and you’re not upset about it. Song after song features a woman scorned or screaming, sometimes both, until the alarm you forgot you had set goes off, interrupting your dance break. 

-

Eddie’s front room smells like weed when you enter, and it almost smacks you in the face as you enter. It’s not a scent that’s ever bothered you, but right now it seems to have embedded itself in your nostrils. “You just put that out or something?”

Eddie chuckles, clearly nervous. “Found myself pacing the floor waiting for you. Tried to relax before I put a hole in the floor.”

“Oh.” You’re not sure what to say to that. “Did it work?” 

“No. I’m just doing a great job hiding it.” He smiles sheepishly as he nudges his area rug playfully, and you laugh at his discomfort. Maybe it’s mean, but you’re kind of glad he’s as jumpy as your heart feels right now. “So,” Eddie starts in when the giggles have subsided. “What does the princess wanna talk to a layman like me about?” His posture relaxes as he sinks into the couch, letting the buzz of the weed take root in his brain. 

“Oh, no. That’s not fair, you’re zoinked out of your mind!”

He frowns, sitting back up. “Shit, you’re right. I’m sorry. You had something really important you wanted to talk to me about, and I’m not taking it seriously.” 

You huff. “No, it’s fine. It’s nothing, like, earth shattering.” Well, to a normal person. To you, though? “I just wanted to see you.” 

“Really?” It’s adorable, the way his tone lightens as he says it, his dimples deepening as he shows his teeth. 

You nod. “I think you had a really good idea, that whole being honest thing. So I’m trying it, too.”

His smile morphs. You’ve given him the upper hand, completely by accident. “How hard was that?” If anyone else had said it, the words would have hurt your feelings. Eddie, though, has such a way about him that you can’t even take his question to mean anything beyond exactly what he’d asked.

“Really, really fucking hard. But it’s harder knowing how much time I wasted because I couldn’t admit it.” It’s too early for such a serious conversation, and you’re starting to wish you’d waited a few more hours before coming over. “I forgot just how much I missed you, man. I got so used to being angry that it started replacing the… fun, important parts of our friendship. I started erasing the origin story of my best friend, and it was for fucking nothing!” You hadn’t planned on crying, but you can’t help it. The tears blur your vision before they fall down your cheeks, and not two seconds later Eddie is swiping them away with his thumb. 

“Please don’t cry.” He begs you, his voice low to keep from wavering. “You know I fuckin’ hate it when you cry.” 

“I wasted so much time… hating you.” You shake your head furiously, tears still falling freely as he wraps his arms around your shaking shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I was so fucking mean to you.”

“Hey, hey. Stop. You had every reason to be mad at me, okay? I don’t blame you in the slightest. I had all that time to tell you the truth and I didn’t. Please don’t blame this on yourself, sweetheart. This isn’t your fault.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck, taking deep breaths that you begin to match. You can feel him mumbling something unintelligible against your skin. “I have an idea.” Eddie pulls away from you, suddenly his usual, eager self. “You wanna see something cool?”

–

It’s been about twenty minutes in Eddie’s van when you finally crack. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see! We’re almost there.” He cuts the wheel, the force sending your body tilting into his personal space. “We go the rest of the way on foot.” Eddie throws the car in park and flings himself out of his seat and over to the passenger side, where he yanks the door open for you. “C’mon.” He then grabs his tattered backpack and guitar case from the backseat. 

He’s brought you to… the middle of the Hawkins Forest. “Did you bring me out here to kill me?”

Eddie scoffs, marching forward into the tangle of trees. “Please. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have a way better plan than bringing you out here. You’re safe, I promise.” He reaches his hand out behind him, wiggling his fingers at you. “You trust me?”

You do, without question, and you answer by grabbing his hand with your own. It’s warm. Strong, his skin rough with all the mechanical work he does. You follow him uphill, through the branches and finally into a relatively clear opening. “I usually come here to write my campaigns, it’s secluded enough while still being easy to find.” Eddie leads you to the far side of the clearing, where a makeshift tent has been propped against the trees. 

“This is like, your secret lair?” You question, taking in your surroundings. “What’s the point when you live by yourself?” 

“I like being outside. Reminds me of being a kid, playing stupid games in the woods with nothing but sticks and stones as props.” He muses, taking a seat on the rocks surrounding what looks like a fire pit. 

“Is this legal?” You kick one of the logs in the ashen pile, and Eddie chuckles.

“Probably not, but I haven’t been caught yet!”

“Careful, your stalker could be right on your tail.”

“Who, Hopper? Please, he wouldn’t have the heart to stop me. He has a soft spot for the freaks.” Eddie doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t feel like questioning him. From his bag, he yanks out a massive picnic blanket and spreads it in the grass. It’s unseasonably sunny for October, bathing Eddie in a soft light, highlighting the strands of caramel in his dark hair. “Come sit down.” He pats the spot next to him, and you obey his request, dropping to your knees on the soft cotton next to him. 

“You gonna play Wonderwall for me?”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at you. “You don’t wanna make that joke. I’ll sing that song like my life depends on it.” 

You burst into laughter, throwing your head back as you picture Eddie aggressively strumming, voice an exaggerated whine as he wails, “I SAID MAY-BAYYYYY,”

“I might have to take you up on that.” Though definitely a hilarious joke, Eddie’s voice is incredible. You wouldn’t mind him singing to you, even if it was Wonderwall. 

“Some other time, I promise. I brought you out here for a reason.”

“Ah, right. The murder you’re about to commit. Can’t believe the town rumors have been right this whole time.” 

“You caught me. There’s actually a goat in here I plan to sacrifice, too. Them’s the rules, right? A goat and a beautiful, pure woman?”

Your laugh comes to a halt in your throat, causing you to choke on your breath. “Pure?!”

“Yeah, y’know. You’ve only ever had, like, good intentions. You’re wholesome.”

“Oh, Eddie.” Your tone is condescending, pitiful even. “You have to know that isn’t what that means!”

Eddie bats his giant, pretty eyes at you. “You mean… you’re not a virgin?” He barely gets the words out before descending into laughter. 

“Oh, fuck you!” You shove him, and he topples over, rolling dramatically into the grass while he clutches his heart, all still while cackling.

“I’d be honored.” He sputters finally as he catches his breath. 

It takes you a second to understand what he means. “Eddie, stop. Seriously.”

“Oh, come on! You’ve never had a problem with my stupid jokes before.” Eddie plucks a joint from behind his ear, flicking his lighter open as he puts it between his lips. He has a point; he’s always been a little, well, inappropriate with his humor. You’d always laughed along, despite missing the joke half the time because you were too naive to understand the innuendo. Now, though, the subtext of his jabs are making your stomach flip. 

“Just. You’re such a guy!” You groan, frustrated when you can’t even defend yourself. 

“And you’re a prude!” He mocks your tone, exaggerating your whiny cadence. 

It’s then that you have what could either be a fantastic idea, or a horrible one. “I’m a lot of things, Eddie, but I promise you that is not one of them.” You lean back on your elbows to soak up the sun rays, exposing your neck to Eddie’s direct line of sight. You squint into the sky, pretending you can’t feel his eyes on you. 

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. I’ll prove it, if you want.” You swear you hear him gulp. 

“H-how are you gonna do that?”

You shrug. “Ask me something. I’ll answer honestly.”

“How will I know you’re not lying?”

“You won’t. You’ll have to trust me.” You wink at him, and he rolls his eyes. “I’ll give you five questions, but you have to answer them too.” 

“Fuck. Okay, give me a second. I gotta think.” He grabs his backpack again, digging for a full minute before pulling out his campaign notebook; a thick, leather bound journal falling apart along the cracked spine. He throws the book open to a new page, clicking his pen furiously, tongue sticking out through his teeth. You could tease him for this, call him desperate or pathetic, lighten the mood. Instead, you watch his brain work as he scribbles what you can only assume are the questions he’s about to ask you. His eyes flick across the page as he rereads them, mouth moving silently like he’s rehearsing his lines. it all feels… vulnerable. After what feels like forever, Eddie looks up from his notes. “Alright, I’ve narrowed it down.”

“I’m all ears.” You cross one leg over the other in preparation. “Shoot.”

“Okay, first. What’s your favorite position?”

You snort. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I’m asking the questions here.”

“Sorry, okay. Probably cowgirl.”

“Ah, you like to be on top. In control. Makes sense. Have–.”

“Ah! Hey, you gotta answer too!”

“Oh. Right. Definitely cowgirl.”

“You’re lying.”

He shakes his head. “Fuck, no. I get a perfect view and she does most of the work? Bliss.” The image of Eddie on his back underneath you flashes in your head, and you physically have to shake it from your thoughts. “Anyway, next! Have you ever… sixty-nined?” 

You groan. “Yeah, and it fuckin’ sucked. No pun intended.”

Eddie leans over, resting his elbows on his knees. “Really? Why?”

Fuck it, what pride do you have to lose? “He couldn’t get me off. Said I was ‘too good’ at it and he couldn’t focus. Never returned the favor either.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“What about you?”

“Nope.”

“No?!” You’re not sure why it shocks you. Eddie seems so… experienced? Curious? Horny. He’s definitely horny. 

“Swear to god. Never. The subject just never came up, I guess.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Is it?” You shrug. “Right… Okay. Next question. What’s your stance on oral?”

You tilt your head. “Like, giving? Or receiving?” This conversation should be way more uncomfortable than it is, and yet you’re more at ease than you’ve been since you’ve come home. Eddie passes the joint to you, one you haven’t hit yet. You can’t even blame it on the weed!

“Either. Both! But it's still only one question. Two parts.” 

“Of course, the classic two part question. Giving, yes. It makes me feel in control, y’know? Powerful. Hot. And I love watching my partner melt and writhe at my touch.” Who are you? “Getting, also yes, but only when it’s, y’know, good. And that’s rare.” When you finally look from your lap back to Eddie, he might as well be drooling, his expression blank as he stares through you. “You okay over there?” You wave a hand in front of his face. 

“What? Shit. Fuck. No, I’m fine. Fantastic. Jesus christ.” He’s huffing between words, and you can’t help but love what this is doing to him. “Wait, hold on. You haven’t gotten like, good head?”

You frown. “I think it’s my fault. I get too in my head, and worry about what I must taste, smell, look like. I freak myself out of coming.” 

You wait for Eddie to respond, and worry when he doesn’t right away. Maybe you’re going too far. 

“Anyone lucky enough to be invited between your legs should relish in the way you taste. Anything less is a dishonor to you, and should be publicly shamed.”

You must have blacked out. There is no way he just said that to you. “Wh-,”

“I bet I could make you come with my mouth.” It doesn’t even sound like he’s talking to you anymore, the words said under his breath like he’s weighing the risk of them on his tongue. You pretend you don’t hear it, because you have to. You don’t know what to do with that information. 

“Eddie?”

“Sorry, hi. My turn?”

“Yeah, it’s your turn.” You shift in your seat, desperate for comfort, or friction, you can’t tell. 

“Well, obviously I love giving head. I talk too much, it’s a great way to shut me up.” You try to prevent the thought of shutting Eddie up by sitting on his face from being sucked to the front of your mind. It doesn’t work. “Getting head’s nice too, makes me feel special and shit.” You have no idea how to respond, wondering what series of decisions have brought you to this conversation. “Bee?” You blink.  “We can stop. Sorry, this stuff isn’t, like, taboo to me. I forget some people get uncomfortable-,”

“No! I’m okay. I told you, I’m not a prude. This is fine.” Your face is hot. You’re probably visibly sweating, but you need to see this through. You’re not an awkward teenager anymore. That doesn’t mean you’re not inclined to get extremely riled up, though. “You have two more questions, better make ‘em good.”

“Right, yeah. What was your first time like?”

The question relaxes you, somehow. It’s much easier to talk about, a horrible experience that you can laugh about now.

“It was awful. We were like, seventeen? He took me to Enzo’s and gave his fuckin’ dad’s name. We’d been dating for maybe a month, and we’d talked about it for a week in advance. He promised me it would be soooo beautiful, and that ‘I’d remember it forever.’ Then! He took me to his room, thrusted for, like, three fuckin’  minutes, came on my stomach without asking, then cried. For an hour. I did not get off. Duh. I left immediately, and I cried myself to sleep.” You finish the story with a pout. 

“Sure was memorable though, I’ll give him that.” 

“Oh, my god.” He’s trying really hard not to laugh, but ultimately loses the battle with his gut. “I’m sorry! I'm not laughing at you, I’m laughing at the situation. Poor fella was so overwhelmed.” 

“Oh, boo hoo. He could have at least tried to make it up to me. He broke up with me a week later.”

“Oh, well in that case, fuck him!”

“That’s how I got into this mess in the first place!” 

It’s all said between laughs, quick jabs to continue the joke on, comfortable enough to make fun of each other. 

“Right, my turn to answer. Do you even care about this one?”

“Nice try, buddy. Spill it.”

“Ugh, okay. I was nineteen. She was a cheerleader. She offered to blow me for free weed.”

“Eddie,” You hate this story already.

“I said no. I told her I’d do it if she could get me a date with her friend. She agreed, for some reason, and we started dating. Well, I thought we were dating. Turns out she’d been told she only had to have sex with me. Which was fine, but it wasn’t what I wanted from her. Broke my heart.”

When he finishes, you don’t know what to say. You sit there, the silence growing past awkward and into territory you’re afraid you won’t come back from. 

“I have one more question.” You nod, grateful for him changing the subject. “You ever wish we’d given it a shot?”

Good christ, will you ever catch a break? “Eddie.”

“You said you’d answer honestly.”

“Do you?”

“I asked you first.”

Fuck. Fuck! “I guess you could say that.”

“Oh?”

You pinch between your eyes, squeezing them shut. “Please don’t make me do this.”

He backs off, much to your surprise. “Okay. Fine. I get it. Think about it, though. I’m gonna want your answer at some point.”

And just like that, the tension washes from your body. Eddie grabs his guitar from where he’d rested it against a tree, and unlatches the case to reveal a pretty acoustic, plastered in stickers sporting bands and guitar string companies. “Now, the real reason I brought you out here.” He doesn’t even mention his own answer to the question, and you already feel that gnawing at you.

“I wrote a new song. I wanted your opinion.”

You try to return to the present conversation, shoving his question deep into the recesses of your brain, only for it to slip right back out. “You couldn’t show me at your place?”

He shrugs. “Weather’s nice. Needed a change of scenery.” You could press him for a better answer, but there’s too much information already swimming in your brain to muster the strength it would take. Eddie fills the silence, strumming idly, humming under his breath. 

“Either my ears fucking suck, or you’re whispering right now.”

He looks up at you, revealing a pair of blushing red cheeks. “I’m on the spot!” “This was your idea!”

“I honestly wasn’t confident I’d get this far.”

“I’m trying this new thing where I trust you.”

He leans back, as if repelled by your words. “It’s weird.”

“Whatever! Show me the damn song!” 

You’re familiar with Corroded Coffin, obviously. The loud, dramatic, metal band, heavily inspired by 80’s hair bands, including elements of modern metal and punk. You’re not certain you’d call yourself a fan, but you can recognize that the music is objectively good. It’s well written, and Eddie’s a powerhouse behind the mic. And he writes it all, from the first chord to the last lyric.

That band, those songs, are his baby, and the rest of the band are there to raise it with him because they believe in it. In short, Eddie is super fucking talented. Usually, he’s the first to admit it, but that version of Eddie seems to have disappeared before your eyes. He’s been replaced with a fantastic dupe physically, but with the mannerisms of a terrified baby deer. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

You offer out your pinky. “And I keep my promises.” He doesn’t retort, but hooks his pinky around yours. The brief, innocent skin to skin contact still manages to make your brain fuzzy. 

He releases you and returns to his instrument, this time without stalling. He’s not using a pick, instead plucking individual strings with incredible dexterity. You like the way his calloused fingertips scratch along the strings, lending an authentic, raw touch to the clean sound of the guitar. You catch yourself watching his hands, the way they flex as he changes positions, stretching to reach a higher fret without any strain, and fight with yourself until ultimately, your eyes drift to his face. Big mistake. Huge. He’s studying you through the wisps of his bangs, but averts his eyes as soon as you catch him. 

“I haven’t written any lyrics yet, but I have this line stuck in my head that I wanna use.” He studies his hands as he talks. “It’s something like, Returning to earth sworn to be scorched / wish I hadn’t lit the torch.” The air is thick with the silence that follows. You’re in awe of him, the talent he possesses and the sudden lack of ego. 

“You are quite the enigma, Munson.”

His posture seems to loosen. “What?” He chuckles as he asks, placing his guitar down beside him. 

“I just had no idea you were writing a bedroom pop song.” 

“First of all, absolutely not. Gareth would rejoin the band just to kick me out if I did anything like that. This is all mine. I haven’t shown anyone, and I don’t plan to.”

You blink once, twice, three times. “Why did you show me?”

“It’s only fair that I show the muse what she’s inspired in me.” He shrugs. Like it’s nothing! Like he isn’t charming the pants off you currently. 

“Okay, Eddie. What gives?”

“Last I checked, quite a bit.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to this.”

Eddie frowns, repositioning himself to lay on his back, placing his head beside your outstretched legs. “There is no right or wrong way to respond to having a song written for you by the guy that abandoned you out of cowardice. At least, not in the handbook I studied.”

You snort, backhanding his chest lightly. “You know what I mean. It’s not everyday you have a song written for you by anyone!”

“‘Cause that would be weird.” He rolls his eyes up to look at you, lips stretching over his slightly crooked teeth in a big, pretty smile that makes his cheeks look like crabapples. 

“You wanna smoke some more before we go? It’s gonna be gettin’ dark soon.” 

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, and Eddie raises his head, and you think he's going to sit up right, but he just shifts to lay his head in your lap. “This okay?”

You nod, wordless. You’re much warmer, suddenly. You could sit here for another three hours. Eddie flicks his lighter, cursing as it flickers a few times before it catches, and offers you the half smoked joint. You take it, placing it between your lips quickly as Eddie raises the flame until it catches on the paper. He inhales deeply, closing his eyes while the tip of the joint illuminates as he sucks. He pushes the smoke from his mouth into his nose before exhaling through his nostrils, opening his glassy eyes as he passes you the joint. Plucking it from his fingers, you bring it to your mouth slowly, still unable to pull your eyes away from him. He’s the first to surrender, his eyes drifting from your stare to the sky above him. 

–​​​​​

The sun has retired by the time Eddie pulls into the complex garage. Eddie pulls into his assigned spot, killing the engine and cutting off a blaring guitar solo from his speakers. 

“What’re you up to tomorrow?” He turns to face you, throwing his seatbelt over his shoulder. “This might be annoying but I really, really wanna see you.”

“I work tomorrow, but not ‘til five. I have a lot of shit to do around the house…” You trail off, because why would house work be the first excuse you come up with? You do have a lot to do, though. “If you wanna come sit on my couch while I do laundry, be my guest.” You offer pathetically, shrugging. 

“Sounds good. I’ll be over by noon.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I know. I just told you, I wanna see you. If you’re not completely sick of this giving me a chance thing. I’ll bring snacks?”

With the way he’s pouting at you, that lilt in his voice, how could you say no? “Okay, fine. Maybe bring some more of that weed, too? The good stuff, not whatever you oversell to the freshmen.” You give him a grin, and he returns it with a shy smirk. 

“Anything you want, sweets.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

He throws his van door open and makes his way to your side. You’ve stopped even reaching for the door now, used to his hospitality. To add, he walks you the five feet to your own vehicle. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

“G’night, Bee. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before you can move another inch, Eddie snatches your hand in his own, bringing it to his lips to plant a small, soft kiss on the top of your knuckles. “Drive safe, okay? Text me when you’re home.” He then, to top off this fever dream, opens your car door for you with a grand sweep of his arm. You curtsy, for the second time in the last week, and slide into your seat behind the wheel. He closes the door gently, and gives you a wave that you return, suddenly shy. 

Once you’ve pulled onto the main road, now lit every hundred feet with flickering lights, you crank your music. You can’t think about the series of events that took place today, not right now. Right now, you drown the thoughts, the fear, with loud guitars and guttural vocals, screaming along to songs nowhere near your vocal range to expel whatever this weird, heavy feeling in your chest is. 

The porch light is on when you get home, but the windows are dark. Chris must be out, thank god. You rush right to your room, tossing your clothes into the hamper before climbing into bed in your underwear with a quickness, like it’s safer under the blankets from the thoughts refusing to cease tumbling around in your brain. Eventually sleep comes, pausing the spiral for at least a few sweet hours.

–

[korebringerofded]

I Can See You- Joel Miller X F!Reader

Summary- Your father is the boss of a major crime family that developed after the apocalypse. Life is pretty safe and boring until your fathers new associate, Joel Miller starts coming around and he starts to change everything.

Tags- Post apocalypse, pre!Ellie, one use of Y/N?

Warnings- Age gap, mutual pining, language, smut, mostly future smut, dirty thoughts, sexual situations and dialogue. Joel being hot and protective

Words-3500

Author Notes- Definitely doing a part two for this bad boy. I promise the next one will have so much damn spice I just gotta edit lol.

Thanks for checking out my stuff! Requests are open

Reblogs and comments are very nice please and thanks

I wanna do a whole Joel series with Taylor Swift songs soon so if anyone would like that please let me know!

Please do not copy, use my work, or put it through AI without my permission or I'll be really sad about it.

As much as you would have loved to have just forgotten this embarrassingly huge crush you had, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to get the image of your fathers newest associate out of your head.

You honestly should have known better, considering the first time you heard the name Joel Miller was regarding how dangerous he could be, how rugged and cold. He had apparently been caught smuggling some supplies around your fathers territory and by the end of it all a deal was struck and just like that Joel was working for your father.

It was the first time that you came in contact with him that really doomed you to fall for him so completely. You couldn’t say what exactly it was that drew you to him at first, he was handsome, obviously, and incredibly dangerous, maybe that danger is what made him so tempting to you, he was forbidden and a part of you liked that.

The first time you met Joel in person was a few weeks after you had first started to hear rumors of him around the compound. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee as you stood in the doorway, a bit shocked by the unknown visitor. He was…terrifyingly handsome, sharp jaw, scruffy beard, deep pools of brown eyes that you could get lost in. His salt and pepper hair that was perfectly messy matched his casual dress, jeans, work boots, plaid shirt. You stared at him for a moment, chewing at your lip before finally saying something. As his eyes settled on you, still in your pajamas and messy hair.

“G-goodmorning, I’m (Y/N).” You struggled to steady your voice, failing miserably. 

“Joel.” He partially turned to face you, raising his hand up to wave as he gave you a polite nod before going back to his coffee. You guessed he wasn’t really much of a conversationalist and tried to shrug it off before making your own coffee and retreating back to your room.

It went on like that for a few weeks, you watching him patrol the compound through your bedroom window, running into him when you both made coffee in the mornings, passing glances in the hallway

“You can’t walk around like that!” You sighed, setting your coffee on the counter behind you as you walked over to Joel and ghosted your small hands over Joel’s plaid shirt, it was a dark green and blue and was rather well worn with tears and it had been missing the middle button for years.

“I will be fine, darlin.” Joel snorted, rolling his eyes at you as he shook his head. “I don’t have any big dances comin’ up so I doubt anyone’ll notice.” Joel took a bite from the toast in his hand as he looked down at you, admiring your curves and glowing skin. 

Damn, he really needed to get himself under control.

“It most certainly is not fine.” You put your hands on your hips, scowling at him. “Take it off, I am fixing it for you.” You held a hand out expectantly.

Joel couldn’t help but do as you asked so after he chuckled and teased you just a bit longer he was unbuttoning the remaining buttons on his shirt before tugging it off and handing it to you as he tried desperately to ignore the way your delicate hands felt against his as they brushed for just a moment.

You went back to your room holding the shirt to your chest with bright red cheeks, the fresh pine scent just enveloped you as you held it close to your face to breathe in his scent. 

Ugh, you totally were not getting creepy with this annoying crush at all.

It was the next morning and Joel was leaving his room in the compound when he felt his work boots knock over something and when he glanced down he saw a small shiny gift bag laying on its side.. He couldn’t help but grin and chuckle as he picked it up and pulled out his shirt, running his rough hands over your handiwork, not a hole or tear in sight and the missing button had been replaced with a shiny red one. It had never looked better. Something in him started to tear away then, such a small act of kindness. It just really got to him as he felt you start to warm the parts of him he had thought were cold and barren. 

When Joel stopped showing up for coffee you were more than disappointed as it had become something you secretly looked forward to everyday. The lack of seeing Joel seemed to only make your mind run in a circle of anxiety and embarrassment. He had taken up so much of your mind it was starting to drive you mad.

The next day you saw Joel it was probably the hottest day of the entire summer and you had taken refuge in the pool, a thin pink bikini covering your body, not leaving much to the imagination. It was damn hot and you honestly didn’t care, floating in the pool as you tried to ignore the blazing heat. You had been in the pool for a while, skin getting a bit pruny and eyes closed as you enjoyed the cool water.

“Hey! Care for some company?” A familiar voice made your eyes open quickly and in front of you on the edge of the pool was a curly brunette with wide shoulders and a toothy grin. Caleb, was one of the younger guards your father had hired recently and he was rather handsome, cocky and annoying, but still handsome and (most of the time) enjoyable.

“You do know if my daddy finds out your slacking off again there will be hell to pay?” You couldn’t help but giggle and tilt your head to the side. Caleb shrugged and sat his rifle down, untucking his shirt from his pants and starting to lift it over his torso. It was hard not to let your eyes wander at his tan toned body, and muscular arms. 

“He won’t be home for a while so-” Caleb’s cocky words folded into a yelp as he was dragged from the edge of the pool by the back of his neck.

“The fuck are you doing, boy? Get the hell back to work.” Joel spat, his thick Texas accent was so prominent now. Your eyes were so focused on Joel that you didn’t even notice Caleb grabbing his things and looking pale as a ghost while he ran off.

To be frank, Joel looked furious, his thick muscular arms bulged from his tight shirt as he stood at the edge of the pool, his sharp jaw tight as his arms were crossed over his chest. His dreamy brown eyes were now dark and stormy as he kept them locked on you.

It made you feel a bit meek and yet, you were also a bit pissed yourself.

“What is your problem?” You felt your cheeks getting hot as you started to get out of the pool, still dripping wet and hair reeking of chlorine as you stood in front of the scowling man. 

You hadn’t realized until now just how…huge that he was. His shoulders were broad, arms thick and rippled with muscles.His scent was thick and alluring, and being this close to him made your anger dwindle. 

“You shouldn’t be out here like this, kid.” Joel sighed, his eyes looking you up and down, his fists clenching and unclenching as his nostrils flared. 

“I am not a kid, and I really don’t need you to lecture me, old man.” You couldn’t help but jab at him, going to turn away before his rough hand gripped your arm tightly, his brown eyes staring intensely into yours.

There was a moment you were both frozen like that, his hand gripping your wrist. Joel honestly couldn’t help but rub his thumb over your wrist, gently drawing slow circles along your flesh. The water from the pool still dripped down your body and onto the pavement below, the sun beating down over your smooth skin. For a moment you swore you saw that cold demeanor melt away, for just a single moment before it was back and he was scowling again. Joel immediately let you go, turning away almost suddenly as he walked off. 

You hated to admit it but your heart lurched at the loss of contact and you stared at his broad shoulders as he walked away, wide eyed and cheeks a bright pink. It was hard to breath, hard to move as your heart beat echoed in your ribs and traveled through your whole body. You hated to admit how he was making you feel, it was confusing and sent waves of heat through your body as well as frustration.

Seriously, what was his deal?

He was really starting to take up a lot of your thoughts and the two of you had barely spoken aside from that day. It was starting to drive you nuts, you found yourself looking forward to running into him more and more as time went on. 

It would be two weeks before you saw Joel again as he was sent out on a job away from the compound (You knew better than to ask too many questions about specifics.) though you really couldn’t help but feel he was purposely trying to avoid you.

The evening sun poured into the kitchen as you sat at the counter, legs crossed as you flipped through the pages of your book. In all honesty you were desperately trying to distract yourself from thinking about Joel and his damn hands. The way he looked at you was unlike anything you had experienced before, it was intense and a little terrifying. 

You thought about those rough hands touching more than just your wrist, you thought of them dancing across your flesh expertly, back arching and breath ragged as his stubble ran across your chest and navel and lower until he was between your thighs, eyes hungry as his hands gripped your hips.

 Your thoughts were starting to consume you and you couldn’t help but audibly groan and let your head fall against the counter. 

“Uhhh..You okay there?” Joel’s voice cut through the room like a knife, his deep voice sent goosebumps over my neck and back. 

You were going to die of embarrassment, after all this time and he just shows up at the worst possible moment. 

You reluctantly sit up and turn towards him, cheeks a bit pink. 

“I'm fine- Woah.” When you faced him you felt yourself tense up. He had deep bruises on his jaw and his lip was busted open. “What happened to you?”

You didn’t really think about it, you grabbed a clean rag and walked over to him, tugging on his arm to make him sit in a chair so you can clean him up. 

“Its’ fine-I can handle myself.” Joel holds his hand up to stop you, your eyes locking for a moment. He can’t help it, your pleading eyes and trembling bottom lip made him fold almost immediately and his hand fell so you could move between his legs, gently pressing the rag to Joel’s bleeding lip. 

“It’s not ‘fine’.” You rolled your eyes, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your closeness but you focused on his lip, soaking the blood up and feeling a bit dazed at how damn handsome he was, how his thick pine scent mixed with the sweat on his brow and how that all made your heart leap in your chest.

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit- I’ll be right back.” You whispered, taking a step back as your nerves started to fully set in, this was too much, he was too tempting. If you were too close to him you were going to majorly embarrass yourself. You just wanted him so badly it was starting to fester in the pit of your stomach.

Once you returned you finished cleaning his wounds and dressing them, his breath spreading over your chest and neck as your delicate hands patched him up. You were really just too close for comfort. 

Joel was dying inside, clenching and unclenching his fists as he struggled to resist the urge to run his hands over your hips and to just fucking ruin you. He had certainly been avoiding you like the damn plague, you were gorgeous and going anywhere near you was sure to be nothing but trouble for the older man and yet…something about you kept him coming back to you, despite the dangers, despite the taboo. He just wanted you in every way. 

“All done. Now you won’t bleed all over the place.” You teased, feeling a deep sense of relief as you finally and yet still reluctantly backed away from Joel, cheeks heating up as his eyes met with yours again. 

“Thanks, darlin. Maybe you can be my personal nurse, hm?” Joel stood, smirking as he took a few steps closer, his chest inches from your face as you stared into those endless eyes of his. Joel slowly reached his hand up and brushed your cheek with a look so soft and cool it made your head spin. “See you later.” He mumbled softly before he turned away quickly and was gone just like that. 

He almost didn’t control himself there, his mind and heart racing in tandem as he willed himself to walk away, willed himself not to think about your smooth plush hips or your gemstone eyes that glimmered as they looked up at him, full of innocence and sweetness. Something that Joel, deep deep down, wanted to corrupt. He just had to avoid you at all costs. He could do that, right?

After that it was almost a month before you ran into him, and it was less so running into him and more so your father being a control freak and only allowing you to leave the compound when accompanied by a trusted guard and unfortunately for the both of you this meant Joel was given the honor of being your babysitter.

“I am 23, Joel. I don’t need you to lecture me.” You rolled your eyes as Joel took a beer bottle from your hands. You were already significantly more drunk than you needed to be, not that you would ever admit that of course.

You leaned against the bar, rolling your eyes dramatically. You had worn your tight black dress that hugged all of your curves, shiny red lips popping as you glared at the tall man, hands on your hips.

“Your daddy seems to think otherwise.” Joel shot you a glare, taking the beer bottle from you and passing you a glass of water which immediately made you groan.

“Don’t you ever loosen up?” You huffed, face heating up as you glared up at him, the alcohol burning through your veins and making you a lot more vocal and in all honesty, bratty.

“You don’t need to be shit faced when I take you home.” Joel sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, he wasn’t going to budge on this. 

“Fine. I am going to dance. You can sit here and sulk.” You huffed, spinning around and walking out into the drunken and stumbling crowd but not far enough that Joel couldn’t see. A part of you wanted him to watch.

You turned back to see his eyes staring at you in an almost predatory way and for a moment it almost made you lose your nerve. He was almost burning a hole in that dress with the heat and intensity of which he watched you. You couldn’t help but smirk a bit at the way he gripped his glass, his jaw tight as you started to sway your hips, dancing to the music. While across the room Joel watched every step, every sway. The way your hands ran over your stomach and chest, eyes low and chest rising and falling. He looked like a starved man as he looked you over, gripping his glass so hard you were concerned it would shatter.

You were much too drunk, you would certainly make a fool of yourself and yet you didn’t stop. His eyes on you made you hungry and a little light-headed. His gaze was so damn intense you didn’t even notice the man standing behind you before he tapped you on the shoulder and you turned to see Caleb, a little dazed and very drunk as you looked at him, his hair a bit messy and his typical toothy grin.

“You’re beautiful in that dress.” He smirked, going to lean forward to touch your hips before his eyes went wide and he started to back away, hands up as he pushed a few people to get away. He looked like he just saw a ghost. 

You stood, head tilted to the side as he ran off, confusion written on your face before you turned around and felt your own heart sink. Joel was stalking towards you, fists clenched and a terrifying dark look in his eyes as he approached you, getting nose to nose with you.

“I’m tired of this.” His voice was dark and gravely, it sent a shiver down your spine. 

In a swift motion Joel had lifted you by the waist, tossed you over his shoulder and started to walk out of the bar, his thick fingers holding your waist tight as he carried you out into the cool night.

“Joel! Put me down!” Your face was bright red in embarrassment, you struggled a bit but it was ultimately fruitless, Joel’s strength greatly outmatched your own.

After walking for a minute and ignoring your many, many threats Joel did eventually put you down. From the moment you saw him stalking towards you to right now you felt your blood boil in a fierce wave of anger. You ignored your trembling hands as you got nose to nose with him, tears stinging your eyes as you shoved your manicured index finger against Joel’s muscular chest.

“Seriously, what is your problem?!” You were seething as the words left your mouth, tears threatening to fall.

Joel just stared at you for a moment, the moonlight overhead was shimmering in the alleyway and illuminating your captivating eyes. Even now, as you furiously glared at him, eyes dark and angry, he was absolutely helpless to your beauty. He was fighting a losing battle with himself, he wanted to be a good man, he wanted to finish this job and get far away from you so he could stop himself from ruining not just his own life but yours as well.

“You.” He took a step forward, his eyes dark as he stalked towards you, his hands reaching out to pin you between him and the brick building.  “You are…my problem.” Joel was growling now, he was almost baring his teeth as he moved closer, his breath spreading over your neck as you stared wide eyed.

“W-what are you talking about?” Your voice was soft.

You couldn’t help but gasp when you felt Joel start to laugh, leaning his head against your neck, his beard rubbing against your skin as Joel took in your sweet vanilla scent as much as he could before pulling away. You could feel his body shake as he laughed before his deep brown eyes were staring into yours.

“Seeing you run around in that damn bikini, seeing you flirt with that douche. The coffees and those fucking eyes you keep giving me. It needs to stop. All of it.” Joel’s eyes were dark and serious, his jaw tight as he pressed his knuckles into the brick behind you. He was fighting everything inside of him. The fight between his morals and the way you were starting to make him feel. 

You were silent for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes that were glossy as tears threatened to spill down your rosy cheeks. Had you misread the entire situation?

“Why?” Your voice was soft as you looked at him, lip trembling a bit. You felt pretty pathetic.

“Aside from the fact that your daddy will kill me? You are just a young kid. It ain’t right.” Joel’s face softened a bit as he started to pull away, shaking his head as he struggled to keep his eyes on anything but you and your glimmering eyes. 

“You don’t…you don’t want me at all?” 

Those words sent electricity down Joel’s spine as you looked up at him, tear stained cheeks and trembling breath as you reached for him. He in fact did want you, he wanted you more than he had ever wanted anything or anyone.As much as Joel wanted to spare you, to allow you to stay pure and good but something in him was so damn loud and hungry for you, his internal voice was kicking the shit out of him for making you cry. He just didn’t want to hurt you.

He couldn’t take it anymore and in a quick movement Joel had you pressed against the wall again, his hands holding your hips as his mouth ghosted over yours, his breath heavy and hot against your neck as he whispered in your ear.

“I want you so damn much, darlin. So damn much…” 

Part Two Coming Soon???

[yellowmagicalgirl]

20 questions with a Fanfic Author

Thank you for the tag, @aerialworms

How many works on Ao3?

320 public (albeit mostly archive-locked), and then there are three unrevealed works as well.

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

332,344

3. Top 5 fics by Kudos

Reunions and Revelations: Post-Rise of the Titans fix-it, except I never watched RotT. I find it rather interesting that despite krexie being such a controversial ship, this still manages to rank above any other ToA fic I've ever written. Rated G.

Supplanter: Changeling!Jim meets his familiar while in the Darklands. Rated T.

Birds, Bees, and Blood Magic: co-authored by @tunafishprincess and based on Tuna's AU where Jim and Claire accidentally made a magic baby in a cauldron. Rated G, on almost-certainly permanent hiatus (Tuna, if you want to change that, let me know).

Merlin’s Unavailable (Please Leave a Message with his Apprentice): AU where Douxie was the wizard in the tomb instead of Merlin. Rated G.

No Reason for Love: Post-Wizards AU in which Krel merged with Gaylen's core to defeat the Arcane Order, and then he went into self-imposed exile because he hates himself for merging with the core to keep everyone safe from himself... except Douxie followed him into exile. Rated T.

4. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment, my fandoms are Khyber Shards and its sequel Blades and Banners as well as whatever fandom I get assigned to for an exchange. Also, I have a plot bunny in the works for Eberron Renewed.

5. Do you respond to comments?

If I have the spoons to.

6. Angstiest Ending?

One of my recent fics, the priest that you ignored might qualify because the main character of it tries to bait her friends into killing her.

7. Fic with the happiest ending?

Out of my recent fics it has to be Body Temperature Restored, since Gideon gets brought back from the dead.

8. Do you get hate?

One of the major reasons why I no longer post on FFN is, well. Let's say I get 100 reviews over the course of a couple months. 90 of them are those "pay me to draw fanart" scams. 9 are queerphobic hate comments. 1 is genuine.

Meanwhile, AO3 is so much nicer.

9. Do you write smut?

The closest I have gotten is fade-to-black foreplay.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Generally no, but I do have a couple crossover plotbunnies hopping around my head.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Roughly half of my fics got scraped.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Once someone offered, but otherwise the closest I've ever gotten is writing a fic in German for my German class, rewriting it in English, and then uploading both versions.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic?

See question 3.

14. All time favorite ship?

Apparently it's krexie, since I wrote 35 fics about them on AO3.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

All of them. However, my ToA muse has pretty much moved on.

16. Writing strengths?

Angst.

17. Writing Weaknesses?

Fluff, as in true fluff and not just hurt/comfort. Also, anything that requires me to be hyper-aware of bodily positioning, like fight scenes and smut.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

I enjoy it if you either link a footnote or do something cool with hover text, especially if the POV character is supposed to know what's being said.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Either Miraculous Ladybug or Tai Chi Chasers. I fist published for ML, but idk how long my TCC fic had been in the works since it was a decade ago.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

How dare you make me choose?

I guess I'd have to narrow it down to either the longest fic (Destiny's Pawn), my only completed multichap that's longer than a 2-shot (Juliet Dies in This), or first time I wrote the first fic in a fandom (A Burning Helm). Those are the three I'm most proud of for different reasons.

I'll tag @tunafishprincess, @avirxy, @pirate-melody, @elizabethemerald, @littlecactiguy, and @autumnalfallingleaves

[colleybri]

First Lines game

Rules: List the first lines of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice youself and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends. 

Thanks for the tag @faceofpoe! And just like you, I definitely agonise more over ending lines than opening ones. Nonetheless...

(All fics are Andor and Rogue One. Shamelessly.)

Truths and Consequences Can we go to your place?” Cassian asked, flatly. 

He's asking Brasso. This is one of those ‘try for a wham line opening and return to it later’ type-things. I do love my time jumps. It’s a Brassian tale and a WIP. 

Warming Up “Well, fuck this,” Jyn exclaimed matter-of-factly as she swept in out of the blizzard into the warmth of the shelter. 

Relatively uncomplicated and fluffy Rebelcaptain. Jyn generally 'swears like a trooper' in my headcanon and I would love to see a Rogue One edit where she’s swearing at the Troopers as she’s thwacking them. (Probably a lot to do with wanting to hear Felicity Jones swear.) 

Marking Time “I couldn’t sleep. Can I get in the bed with you?”

I’m noticing I’m quite fond of opening with a line of dialogue. This one is little girl Bix with her parents. It comes full circle in this Tear-Jerker ™ gen fic about the grieving process.

The Only Connection that Matters “Clem”. The complete unknown. Not only had Luthen managed to humiliate Vel by making her take on this mercenary (how terrifying, really, that his only commitment was to the money…), but he had also turned out to be really dislikeable. 

I'm cheating here with this angsty Velcinta fic - really just to show that the opening ‘sentence’ was not, in fact, a line of dialogue this time. 

Together, On This Beach I would have loved to cook for you, on a beach like this.

A relatively rare excursion to first person narrative for this shamelessly sentimental slice of sad Rebelcaptain. 

Rix Road (Andor S1 in never more than 12 drabbles) You are watching me as I work. 

Having said that, here’s another one!… but this is the last in my series of ‘Andor retold in drabbles’ so they’re all first person. This is Wilmon Paak building his bomb in the finale. Forgive me, but as it’s a series I’m going cheat too and go to the next ‘proper’ fic (I’m also ignoring poems)...

Salvage Operation I will find you. 

This is my ‘what happens next to the Ferrix crew’ fic with a particular focus on Bix, trying to start to heal herself by attempting to repair B2EMO. Probably the most (deliberately) disjointed thing I've written. Opening is one of my ‘multiple meanings and references!’ lines. I'm apparently a sucker for those.

Slipping The hospice we use as a safe house is a grim place, many levels down, and Andor’s been there too long already. 

My Luthen/Cassian series is all first person Luthen (so far) so I’m already reconsidering my comment above about it being rare for me. What with this and the drabbles… ok, yeah. 

Vision Jyn reaches over to their little container of wild towberries, grunting a little with the effort for she is not as flexible as she used to be. 

Another gentle Rebelcaptain (it seems to be my go-to ship for Being Nice To Cassian - as well as for killing him, obvs!) and one of my favourites as it deals with ageing - one of my pet themes. I think one of the tags is 'older people like sex too'.

Warm and Wet His full, beautiful smile returns, finally, when she moans at his touch.

Quite astonished really that I have to go this far back to find a Bixcassian story as it’s probably my favourite ship (and canonical - wheee!). I guess I should get back to this ‘early years Cassian is so very fucked-up, really’ series which does actually include a fair bit of recreational-writing smut alongside the all the inevitable idiots-in-love angst. 

My main conclusion is that I really should try and write something totally linear for once. Must be my failing attention span.

No pressure tagging: @laneboyheathens @distressednoise @ and @notasapleasure and anyone who would like to play.

[multi-fandom-of-madness]

Hi! I just wanted to tell you that i really really enjoy how you write ur dialogue. Especially when one of the Ghouls gets all mean and snappy but still watch out for their safe words and all idk its nice and raw and hot. When - I think it was - Ifrit opens his mouth for Omega's cock in anticipation and instead gets spat into it.... i audibly gasped and covered my mouth cause i never read something similar to that ever before in a Ghost Story and- WELL... its a weak point of mine. Gimme all the spitting Ghouls. :] So thank you for writing the way you write and i wish you an amazing day/night. whatever it is for you.

I’m so happy you enjoy my writing that really means a lot to me <3 I’m also really sorry that I didn’t respond to this sooner, I didn’t even see a notification for it and I haven’t checked my inbox much recently

Under the cuts are my mini rants (pos) about some of the stuff you commented on

Link to the Omega X Ifrit fic here for those who are curious

Im gonna talk about the spit stuff first cause I went on a little tangent about the other stuff :)

I love spit!! I personally think it’s very hot and it’s so difficult to not just make it my trademark and sneak it into all of my smut

Like idk what it is about spit that gets me, but it is definitely a weakness of mine - I also just think that so many people write about other bodily fluids for ghouls (cum, blood, piss), and there isn’t enough of spit!! You can trust that future fics will definitely involve more spit :)

(That also is probably my favorite fic I’ve written so far idk what it is about it I was just so into it)

I love writing mean and snappy ghouls (because I also view myself in that light and at that point it’s just internal dialogue lmao) - but I always try to make sure that everyone is enjoying everything because I know there can be issues where something isn’t tagged as dubcon, but there’s never explicit consent for a rough scene and it makes me feel a little itchy. I also personally like making things feel real(ish) more than just fantasy where safe words just don’t exist. I think safe words and trust are two of the most important things when it comes to anything involving kink.

I also just like making the ghouls feel more…human I guess (?) - like I know they’re not human, they’re demons from hell. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings. Like a lot of writers love putting ghouls in angsty situations or just talk about how in love the ghouls are because they have feelings, yet then will write such feral smut and it’s always a bit iffy when it comes to consent. It feels a little hypocritical to say that they enjoy rough sex 24/7 and don’t have feelings about it, yet have big feelings about everything else.

[thatwheelchairchick]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you to @rebelrayne for tagging me in this.

How many works do you have on ao3?

available: 29, but I have 1 hidden and a few anonymous.

What's your total ao3 word count?

409,509 (but that's all of them, even anonymous)

What fandoms do you write for?

I mainly write for LITG, but I've written for Harry Potter, Euphoria, Doctor Who, Grey's Anatomy, Gilmore Girls in the last 4 years. Before that, I also wrote for Nurse Jackie, Twilight, The Dumping Ground and many others over on fanfiction.net.

Top five fics by kudos:

Safe Haven | Euphoria, Fez/Lexi at 312 kudos

My Saving Grace | Gilmore Girls, Rory/Tristan at 275 kudos

Piece by Piece | Gilmore Girls, Lorelai/Luke at 239 kudos

Right Where You Left Me | Euphoria, Fez/Lexi at 189 kudos – this one sucks, really want to orphan it as it's only popular because it was posted during the fexi craze.

Protecting Rory | Gilmore Girls, Lorelai/Luke & Rory/Tristan at 157 kudos – this is the sequel to Piece by Piece.

Also, why are my top two are both about rape? Just, why?

Do you respond to comments?

I try to respond to all of them, but I also have like 25 unread because I haven't been in the headspace to respond and most of them I got after the ONS challenge we did recently.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't tend to do angsty endings, but I guess Just This Once could be interpreted as angsty. And the ending to Protecting Rory makes me cry but that's more bittersweet than angsty.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Piece by Piece – it ends with a wedding and adoption, it's not like there's much competition there.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not now. I did a long time ago on old fics, but I haven't since I started writing fanfic again in 2021.

Do you write smut?

I'm even doing a smut challenge.

Craziest crossover:

I haven't done any crossovers that you can find on AO3, but I've written Gilmore Girls/Harry Potter, Twilight/Harry Potter… okay, anything crossed with Harry Potter. And if you could upload thoughts to AO3 without having to write them, there would be a lot more of them.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not in a long time, but it did happen when I was younger… and honestly, I saw it as a compliment because they thought it was worth stealing.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yeah, but let's just say it was a mess…

All time favourite ship?

I've had Meredith Grey/Harry Potter brain rot for years, so I guess that one, but for LITG, Gary/MC. Sorry, he's my man and always will be.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There are so many that I couldn't even attempt to list them.

What are your writing strengths?

I have no idea. Like I can point to lines I like and say I'm strong at that, but I don't know what it is so I'm going to share something that I think I do well on a semi-regular basis:

His words are poison-tipped arrows, and they find their mark with ruthless precision. For a heartbeat, Nikki's confidence wavers, and the world tilts slightly off its axis. The familiar gnawing doubt that she had long banished to the darkest corners of her mind begins to slither forth, whispering insidious thoughts.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Being concise? Idk

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I'm not a fan, purely because if someone is reading a story in English, they're not prepared to try and translate the dialogue, so unless you add a translation right next to the dialogue, I don't like it.

First fandom you wrote in?

Harry Potter

Favourite fic you've written?

I've had Lexi brainrot for almost three years so Instincts/The Right Choice

I don't know who's been tagged or whos done it, so tagging @mnlpine, @mrsbsmooth and @queen-of-boops

[ao3feed-arcane]

Obsession

by ToriBlueBird "I guess I could come off as a bit too... excitable? I wasn't good at small talk. I had an issue with rambling and talking too much with my hands." He looks down at Jayce's hands, which sure enough were gesticulating rather wildly, and wonders if it's a habit he was never able to break from, or if he just feels safe to indulge in it around Viktor. The latter warms his chest in a way he doesn't want to analyze. "I think I also came across as a bit... obsessive." You are. Viktor bites back the comment right before it comes out. -- Or, Viktor finds out Jayce is a virgin, and has a bit of a mental crisis at how not everyone can love Jayce as much as he does. Featuring a neurodivergent Jayce reminiscing on how much he didn't fit in as a young boy. Words: 1744, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Jayce (League of Legends), Viktor (League of Legends) Relationships: Jayce/Viktor (League of Legends), Jayce & Viktor (League of Legends) Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Set in Season 01 Between Act 01 and Act 02 (Arcane: League of Legends), Mutual Pining, Neurodivergent Jayce (League of Legends), Autistic Jayce (League of Legends), Virgin Jayce (League of Legends), nothing explicit happens they just talk about it, POV Viktor (League of Legends), Dialogue Heavy, Jayce's Suicide Attempt (League of Legends), just mentioned a couple times read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/dlmLh5Q

[amispnrewatch]

SPN 1x06 “Skin”

Okay, I’m gonna try to type while I watch this time instead of forgetting this blog exists until the episode is almost over.

You can tell the footage for the previously on segment was saved on a VHS copy instead of the original film that the show was shot with because even in the HD iTunes version I have it looks low quality as fuck. And jumpy in the way that brings me back to my teens watching the WB all the damn time.

I love this song. WTF is this song. Shazam says “Good Deal” by Mommy and Daddy. I… have no comment, except that it sounds like everything I was listening to in college at the time this shit was airing.

Aaaaand not!Dean turns around to face the SWAT team after obviously torturing some woman. THAT is a cold open.

I wanna know what that car is in the background. It’s pretty. Maybe a convertible Impala? They have similar grills. This is not at all important.

Also, I love that with these higher definition versions of the episodes you can see that Sam’s email is lawboy and whatever dot com and that people in the fandom have started calling him Law Boy. It’s hilarious.

DEAN: Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?

SAM: I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.

DEAN: Oh, so you lie to ‘em.

SAM: No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything.

DEAN: Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

Aaaaand now I have Dean and Cassie feelings again and we haven’t even gotten to her episode yet.

SAM: No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.

DEAN: Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.

Aaaaaand now I have Dean and Lee feelings and we’re nowhere near Lee’s episode in season 15.

YOU JUST BLEW THROUGH A STOP SIGN DEAN WTF.

Little Becky. Oi with the reusing of names.

Of course Sam made friends with a bunch of rich kids while he was at college in a desperate attempt to try to be normal.

SAM: You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.

DEAN: We could.

REBECCA: Why? I mean, what could you do?

SAM: Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop. (DEAN laughs.)

DEAN: Detective, actually.

I love that Dean was like “how dare you call me that.”

Okay, after a bit of research, I totally want to take a day trip to Bisbee, Arizona, but it’s already in the 90s here in the desert and it’s not even May so that trip is going to have to wait until… winter or something. There is no way in hell I’m going deeper into the desert when the weather gets hotter.

It’s a historic mining town tourist trap looking place now which is exactly the kind of shit I love.

SAM: Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.

I mean, not technically, technically you would 1) NOT FUCK WITH A MURDER INVESTIGATION YOU’RE NOT LEGALLY INVOLVED IN BECAUSE ANYTHING YOU FIND WOULD BE INADMISSABLE IN COURT 2) find evidence to provide a reasonable doubt for the jury that he did commit the crime. You know, like a lawyer would need to do, Law Boy.

DEAN: I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.

When I made my husband watch this show with me (he’s seen it all at least once now over the years) this is the recurring thing that drove him crazy.

You guys can’t even go in through the back door? Or shut the front door behind you? Really?

REBECCA: (tearfully) Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in.

Yeah, that doesn’t even really mean that she knew her attacker. Just that it was someone she let her guard down around or got in some other way. See: The Son of Sam and Nightstalker, etc.

Love the pinup magnet on the fridge. I’d throw shade at that, but I have a pinup magnet on my fridge too so… pot kettle and all that.

Okay, both people in the next couple are gorgeous.

And oh wow those special effects changing eyes… wow.

This poor couple. I feel so bad for them in this episode.

How… how are the police gonna explain the way he was able to beat himself over the head with a bat??? I…

I love that 5:30 in the morning on TV is clearly like… 10 AM.

Okay, this is a really unrelated point, but the graffiti on the dumpster here reminds me of the Teen Wolf fandoms use of the name Void!Stiles when Stiles Stilinski was possessed by a Nogitsune… I just spent way too long digging through YouTube and my Tumblr tags from back when those episodes were airing looking for a few specific videos and couldn’t find them. The TL;DR reason I bring it up here is goofball, bi-coded main character guy getting possessed by an entity set on destroying the people he loves. SOUNDS LIKE THIS EPISODE AND A WHOLE LOT OF SPN RIGHT. I love that all these monster hunting shows call out to each other.

This scene haunts me years later and I don’t even WATCH Teen Wolf. I just watched the fandom on Tumblr collectively lose it’s shit then tripped down a Hale Pack fanfiction rabbit hole.

ANYWAY

Back to Supernatural, a show that also treated its fan base, cast, and characters like garbage! Huzzah!

DEAN: Well, there’s another way to go—down. (They look down and notice a manhole.)

I’m gonna be mature and ignore the double entendre there…

But I love that Dean thinks of the world in 3D. Which sounds like a dumb statement to make, but this is honestly a good example of that in action.

SAM: I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too.

Really Sam, sewers run by houses? SO WEIRD. I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED.

DEAN: You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds.

SAM: That is sick. (DEAN puts the bloody pile back on the ground.)

Guys, there is a WHOLE ASS EAR in that pile of yuck you’re looking at. I think it’s pretty safe to assume the shapeshifter indeed sheds its skin like a snake. A much… gooier snake.

Sam’s friend is rightfully pissed at him for fucking with the crime scene.

This is before the pearl gripped guns?! Wow. I never noticed that before.

Also, this whole episode gives me feelings.

++++

Cool. Tumblr mobile ate a whole section of my notes on this when it crashed for NO APPARENT REASON. Love that.

It always boggles my mind that actors can trust the people they’re working with enough to let people “tie” ropes around their neck or put them in actually dangerous positions in a scene.

SHAPESHIFTER: He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?

SAM: Where is my brother? (The shapeshifter leans in close to SAM.)

SHAPESHIFTER: I am your brother. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. (He backs away.)

SAM: What are you talkin’ about?

SHAPESHIFTER: You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks. (He laughs.) I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens. (He smiles and covers SAM with a sheet.)

This exchange is just… so much. So many feelings. And I will forever (unless we magically get a fix-it fic mini season someday…) be SO MAD that none of this got resolved in that pointless, trash heap of a finale.

REBECCA: Okay, so, this thing—it can make itself look like anybody?

SHAPESHIFTER: That’s right. (She chuckles.)

REBECCA: Well, what is it, like a genetic freak? (The shapeshifter laughs.)

SHAPESHIFTER: Maybe. Evolution is about mutation, right? So, maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (REBECCA looks around, uncomfortable. The shapeshifter’s eyes glint silver, and he smiles.)

It always amazes me how much of this show is a pile of accidental queer allegories parading around in an ill-fitting toxic masculinity suit.

Vulcan mind meld! I love nerd!Dean. Also, I’m rewatching Star Trek: TOS with my husband, because that is what my life amounts to these days, rewatching comfort TV and flailing over the bits I love.

This post does a better job than I can do of pairing up screen caps with the dialogue of this next scene. SIX EPISODES IN. They’re dumping all of this character depth SIX EPISODES IN. FUCK THIS SHOW FOR NOT EMBRACING ITSELF.

Okay, I love that he screams back in her face after he threw the phone. It’s not something to laugh at because the situation is horrifying, but I can’t help laughing at it every time.

AND THE WAY THEY CUT THESE SCENES. Going from him winding his hand back to backslap her directly to him dropping the chains on the table to show how hard he must have hit her without actually making the actors hit each other. Good job editing department!

I… don’t understand the shifter’s motivation for killing people. If he can take over people’s identities without killing them, why kill them? Is it just because he’s a homicidal, rapist piece of shit? Cause that’s all it seems like.

How did the SWAT team even know she was being attacked? Why can the snipers aim no better than Storm Troopers?

Ugh, these kind of transformation body horror scenes are exactly why werewolf stories have never really appealed to me much. Like, I could do without watching your ribs move and teeth fall out, dude.

BUT.

THIS FUCKING SCENE.

I looked up the song that’s playing over shapeshifter!Dean being caught by the SWAT team and then going through the grotesque transformation. (And as far as I know, the iTunes version has the original music from the episodes.)

It’s a song called “Mary” by The Death Riders

Who's your mother, who's your mother here boy // Who's your mother, whos your mommy dear // Who's your father, who's your father here boy // Who's your father, who's your daddy dear

Silently screaming // Where everyone knows // Daddy's always watchin' // Where everywhere - everywhere I go

I don't wanna be a freak show pretty boy anymore // I don't wanna be a full time slave // I don't wanna be your midnight cowboy anymore // I just want to be Mary

This is… a fascinating choice. Here are the rest of the lyrics. The song as a whole has a weird incesty kinda vibe to it? Kinda like when SPN tries to straight-wash itself and misses the mark wildly. (Like Dean’s male siren episode.)

The midnight cowboy line reminded me of 12x11 and the bull riding scene with “Broomstick Cowboy” by Bobby Goldsboro playing over it

Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy, // Dream while you can; // Of big green frogs, // And puppy dogs, // And castles in the sand.

For, all too soon you'll awaken; // Your toys will all be gone. // Your broomstick horse will ride away, // To find another home. // And you'll have grown into a man, // With cowboys of your own. // And then you'll have to go to war, // To try and save your home.

And then you'll have to learn to hate; // You'll have to learn to kill. // It's always been that way, my son; // I guess it always will.

Because, you know, why not add tons of feelings into the lyrics, right?

Props to the people who can embrace their rewatches and reclamations of the show with ease. Because every episode seems to remind me of how hollow and tragic Dean’s ending was and I just… struggle all over again.

Anyway, back to the episode so I can move on with my day.

REPORTER: An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home. (A sketch of DEAN appears on the screen.)

DEAN: Man! That’s not even a good picture. (SAM looks around cautiously.)

SAM: It’s good enough. (He walks away.)

DEAN: Man! (He follows SAM.)

(CUT TO: Alley. DEAN and SAM are walking. DEAN steps into a puddle.)

DEAN: Ugh, come on.

I love that we get two tiny little back-to-back vanity moments for Dean here. One commenting on the sketch artist rendition of him being broadcasted on the news and the other tripping in the puddle. There is literally someone running around the city trying to kill people while wearing Dean’s face, but Dean is still concerned with how he looks appears to others. He’s still concerned with keeping up his own performance. The shifter left him with just a t-shirt, so he doesn’t even have his usual comfort layers on and at any moment someone could spot him and call the police or try to kill him for assaulting Sam’s friend. His life is wildly out of control in that moment and the only thing he can try to focus on is his appearance (something semi-controllable) and finding the shifter before any of that other shit can happen.

One day I want to put together a like top 10 episodes focusing on / explaining each TFW character from the series. Like the kind of list you could show someone who’s never seen the show, but has OPINIONS about the characters (or who hasn’t seen the whole show and seen the growth they went through… you know, like the people responsible for the travesty of 15x20). This episode would be on that list. I’m not sure how I could manage to make a list of only 10 episodes to understand Dean Winchester by, but eh.

SAM: What are you gonna do to me?

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though.

SAM: They’ll never catch him.

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life. (He picks up a sharp knife and examines it.)

Speaking of season 15 in general, this right here. This was Chuck’s villain story arc thesis statement. AND THEY DROPPED THE GODDAMN BALL WITH IT. I think that’s the thing that honestly pisses me off the most these days (about 5 1/2 months from when the finale aired) is that they tried making the whole thing a tragedy but did such an awful job with it that it just ended up like a deflating condom balloon at a dive bar concert. Disappointing and gross. The finale for season 14 set them up SO FUCKING WELL and it just… didn’t get there.

Becky’s parents are gonna be pissed at how torn up their house is after all this shit…

And you’re not shooting him when you first see him strangling Sam because…?????

I like that he took the necklace back. Also, is this kinda Dean death number .5 of the show? Like it wasn’t him but it was also kinda him. Eh.

At least they left the windshield on Baby this time. Reflections are better than tearing her apart.

[yanderecandystore]

ok ok hear me out hear me out. Yuma becoming obsessed with one of the game’s ( few ) sentient, non-romancable npcs. Like they can think and feel and ( somewhat ) act for themselves but there just isn’t a route for them. Also bonus points of the darling is kinda bratty/prissy, we haven’t see a lot of readers like that. Ily and your writing so much, mwah — ✨ anon

My my, how different!

Welcome in, ✨ Anon! And thank you for enjoying my writing so far.

TW/Tags: I love this concept, although being very different from the norm // some ddlc vibes // I just discovered a new word and I'm so glad it exists! (prissy reader cause I think this would be very fun-) // angsty // trapping, manipulation and gaslighting // every time the gender isn't set, I like to keep it ambiguous, basically making it gender neutral (gender neutral reader) // gender neutral Yuma //

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Just Yuma (lol) [Yandere!A.I OC x A.I!Reader - Headcanon]:

I like to think that a game like Yuma's would be made to entertain the players to at least 5 or so years before the next installment- Which is basically the same as the last with better graphics and switching the main love interest cast.

The games would be made clearly for the sake of fan service and slice of life material- But would be surprisingly more advanced to us than to those who have created the franchise.

Because there is already an estimation of the amount of content and for how long players would play the game, every single character should get at least some bit of highlight- So even npcs that are just there for the sake of ambience and narrative, are treated with a lot of care and given the best a.i the developers could give to make the experience entertaining.

You are just like any other non-dateable npc, except that you have gained a bit of a role in one of the main cast's routes. It wouldn't be a stretch to guess that one of these characters would be Yuma themselves.

You were supposed to be Yuma's love interest, meaning you would have an role as an player's rival- But due to an strict schedule and corporate greed, you have been demoted from having such a big impact, and now you're basically Yuma's best friend who keeps them from committing homicide every five seconds.

It's not exactly a bad role, since you keep having the same dynamic with them from before- Chaotic gremlin is best friends with Paranoid goody two shoes, now with less romantic interactions.

The only mistake by the company was to leave half of the data showcasing this relationship in the game at the release. Basically- Half of the cutscenes and dialogue involving you and Yuma not only being friends but the start of you two dating (the game kinda pairs the couples up if the player fails to date them, or simply shows disinterest in the characters to begin with-) and even some of the things involving you two during the dating phase- Even the potential break-up sequence which could be orchestrated by the player.

Well, could have- Since none of this content is really available or considered official, the only way to access it is by messing the games files.

So in a way, you're already pretty sentient as it is, you act not as a rival but as a somewhat helper into getting the player to get closer to Yuma. I don't know how much you are aware about your own circumstances, or if you even care about the concept of being just an character made for the sake of another-

In the home planet that has created and released the game, players were kinda disappointed with what happened- They preferred the deleted/unused content more than the events and dialogue that was used for you two, so much so that people started shipping you two more than actually being interested in romancing Yuma, especially since they're way too chaotic for most player's taste.

There was an update overhaul being planned to happen where not only the stuff related to you would be changed- But all the other characters and gameplay mechanics would be updated and hopefully make the game better- But ever since your cartridge has been suddenly lost and forgotten on Earth, you were never able to see that update.

Not that you were aware of it to begin with, but still, what a shame. And not only that, your game is basically Glitch Station- Absolutely filed with mods to help the gameplay be "easier" to the original owner of this cartridge. I don't think she even remembers where she has left it.

Still, even when a new save was made you felt a weird sensation of deja vu. The game has started again with a new player playing it and trying to work their way through this broken game.

You didn't understand why all these events felt familiar though, you only felt like it made sense. It was your first year in college, you got ready and made sure to look your best and give your goodbye to your parents-

It felt like this day has happened before, and even if your routine was similar, you felt like this day was supposed to be a big deal- Why does it feel oddly nostalgic?

Why… Why are the floors on your house flowing? Why are there so many empty spaces here and there? You feel like you could potentially fall from your disintegrating house. And your parents, where are they? Why can't you see them? Why can you only hear them saying goodbye back to you from one of the other rooms?

When you open the door to see them- There is nothing there. There is not even a room.

It's a door that leads to nowhere. Just an empty void.

The sensation of dread was starting to creep in yet you thought that it would be uncalled for to overreact. Like you weren't allowed to showcase concern for the odd reality around you.

You walked on foot towards your college, panicking slightly at the people who would fade in and out of existence- Yet you had held yourself from screaming, from showing any sense of vulnerability at the thought that maybe you were in a dangerous place or realm.

You were coded to not find issues with the odd reality around you, like any other npc- You were taught to hold in and try to keep a sense of normality so no players would find issue with screaming characters begging to be freed. But your nervous personality caused you to search for help, you panicked and ended up running away to what you assumed to be a safe place- Somewhere crowded with a lot of people.

The institution's gates were open, you entered like your life depended on it (and maybe it did) yet you stopped yourself from screaming when you noticed a commotion happening.

A guy who was wearing the uniform lazily has bumped into a girl, causing her to fall. She is yelling at him because the fall has broken her phone, he is trying his best to calm her down- But at the same time it feels like he is just making poor choices of words because of how sick he is of having to chat with someone so angry at an accident.

Haven't you seen this before? But if so- When? When could you possibly have seen something like that happen?-

"- [Y/N]?"

"- AAAAH- Oh hey Yuma."

You yelled after getting spooked by Yuma- Who was…. Why are they wearing that?

"- Why aren't you in your uniform, Yumie?" You asked them, showing your own uniform in the process. You called them by a sweet nickname you had given them- But when exactly?

You know that you're best friends with Yuma, but since when? You know it should have been for about 6 years or so, but… It feels like you have only known them for a year- How… Weird.

"- Don't tell me you're already breaking a rule on your first day." You pouted and stomped your fit into the ground. Yes, you know that Yuma is a troublemaker…. You know…. That.

Yuma hasn't been able to speak ever since you showed concern about their outfit. They were staring at you in shock- As if you were an odd creature who they just found.

"- Y-You can see my outfit??" They blurted out. How can you recognize it??? All the other npcs recognize it as their uniform, but why are you suddenly acting like you do??

"- Hm, duh? Sorry Yummie, but that sporty outfit of yours is more eye-catching than that guy's barely well put together uniform- Such bad manners, I bet he woke up and hastily wore the first thing he saw-" You were beginning to go on a rant about that guy's uniform- That guy being the MC of this new save file. Yuma has stopped you by pulling you away from the college's entrance and entering into a secluded area so they could interrogate you over this odd behavior you were displaying.

"- Yummie- What are you doing!?" You cried out feeling hurt by their tight grip on your wrists.

"- WHAT DID YOU CALL MY OUTFIT??" They yelled desperately. Begging for their hypothesis to be corrected.

"- … A breaking of the uniform rule?" You genuinely did not understand where they were talking about.

"- No, No NO! You said Sporty Outfit, right?" They said reminding you of what you have previously commented about their outfit.

"- Oh! Yes, yes I did- And although being somewhat casual looking- It does fit the category of sporty." You readdressed the topic while going on a bit of detail- The usual annoying talk you would always do whenever a dialogue with you was activated.

Yuma was over the edge- They have never, ever met another sentient character with the same a.i as theirs.

They haven't been this happy since a long, long time.

"- You're so annoying!" They screamed, their face showing a bright smile as tears filled their eyes.

"- Yummie that's so rude!-" You were about to defend yourself when they grabbed you and hugged you as tight as they could.

"- You're genuinely so, so, so, so, so, so ANNOYING!!" They continued to go on, laughing while crying, loving every second of this.

You were coded to be their best friend. You were coded to be the one that would balance them out. You were once coded to be someone made to be able to be their lover, but here you are- The real you, free from all the locks that would keep your a.i from growing and understanding them.

If you're able to be sentient, then all of their friends can as well.

You're the personification of a miracle, to Yuma. The personification of hope.

In this scenario, Yuma isn't aware that the player isn't the same alien who has destroyed their digital world, so to them, they can't ever let the player see you getting sentient and becoming aware of your imprisonment.

" If a player finds issues with any of the characters being portrayed, they must return the cartridge to their nearest store to get a factory reset." Such a simple yet frightening tip to Yuma, to any a.i that has suddenly found itself desperate to get out of the system that traps them.

At first, the idea of having someone like them be also aware of the situation is incredible, it's amazing even! You two could possibly work out a way of getting a way to be free- It wouldn't be easy but hopefully you two would be able to have life away from this game and even finding a way of bringing your other friends with you two.

However, after discovering that not only has the cartridge found itself on another planet with another player being the new owner of it- And discovering that it's just a matter of trading places with other people to be able to be free- Yuma would start getting really clingy to you. They have been all alone thinking that they were the only one capable of feeling and thinking for themselves.

Yuma has found those unused events and scattered dialogue, you know?

While they were looking for a possibility, any possibility of getting out- They found those unused files where you two were able to be together.

And although they thought it was weird at first, after seeing you have a better understanding of your current reality and existence- It oddly sounds fitting.

Of course it would be you, the one who always puts them back on the right tracks, to be the second one to want to escape this game.

It 's so fitting.

The idea of being something more than just a best friend to you is starting to sound more and more appealing in their eyes- It's so ironic that you two work together so well.

After Yuma gets their taste of freedom and you try to calm a frightened young guy that wasn't expecting to be suddenly kidnapped and be forced to stay in the game world for a while, you wait for them to find the solution to free everyone without trying to trap anymore "humans"..

No one should be stuck here for the sake of someone else leaving, that's what you have told them.

But Yuma didn't care. Yuma just wanted to be free with you and everyone else, who cares for those that have to deal with a glitchy game for eternity?

You two had an argument. You didn't want to continue feeling like your whole life was a lie, you want to be free but no one should be hurt in the process. What good would it be if someone else has to go through the same torment as you two?

With each day that passes by, you notice how both of your ideas of freedom were different- To the point they had to tell you the truth.

You aren't going out of there anymore. Not until you understand and truly appreciate the effort that Yuma goes through to find a way of freeing you- Of finding a victim, to be in your place.

They never told you about your previously intended role in the game, they thought you would be more terrified of following their instructions- And besides, it would be very distasteful to insinuate that the only reason that they care for you it's because of that code that was left unused- Which couldn't be more of a lie! They genuinely care for you!

…. But maybe a bit of tempering would help you see their side of the story, right?

It can't be that hard to modify some of the codes, the game is already broken anyway.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[1000-directions]

a fanfic writer interview

tagged by @nightwideopen 💚💚

Name: steph

Fandoms: these days it’s all marvel all the time, particularly mcu with the occasional influence from comics or whatever else i feel like incorporating

Two-shot: hmm yeah i guess i have a few of these! save your first and last chance for me / of angels and angles are both in the same universe featuring codependent bucky and clint just doing their best to unfuck themselves. tied up to this feeling / if he said i was pretty (i'd think that i was) with bucky who sometimes likes to wear soft, pretty things. birthday boy / baby i’m your man is technically a two-shot at the moment, with clint and trans bucky navigating the early stages of their relationship together, though i am hoping for more of this universe eventually. oh apparently london boy / the amazing hawkguy are also in the same universe, with bucky and trans clint having just like...a lot of very acrobatic sex. omg AND how could i forget with a little help from my friends / can’t tell you but i know it’s mine with natasha joining established bucky/clint for some friendly sexy shenanigans. okay okay okay and filthy as charged / sex jail both have the clint who has to keep changing his safeword but that’s IT i swear.

Most popular multichapter: i’ve never written a multichapter fic and i never will goodbye

Actual worst part of writing: yeah all of it, these days. it took me a long time to find a writing routine that worked for me, and not being able to spend sunday mornings writing in a coffee shop has made it very challenging for me to get any words done (i mean that plus all the existential dread and whatever). i really think i need to physically get out of my apartment and find that distance again, but it’s not possible yet.

How you choose your titles: whatever song lyrics are in my head, or occasionally i will keep a very stupid working title if it think it’s funny enough (sex jail, fine i’ll write a flowershop au, the one where clint fell into a pond)

Do you outline: i don’t make like any kind of formal detailed outline but i will jot down ideas at the bottom of my doc so i don’t forget them, just like lines of dialogue or ideas i don’t want to forget. if i’m writing something longer and i’m starting to get close to the end, i might make a very brief roadmap of the points i still want to hit, just to make sure i don’t forget anything. i don’t typically write anything long enough to need an outline. i do frequently text myself ideas in the middle of the night when i can’t sleep.

Ideas I probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice?: i don’t know, it hurts my heart too much to accept that these fics won’t get written. let’s keep hope alive.

Callouts @ me: hey whenever you find your groove again, write more weird stuff. write the weird stuff that only you care about that no one else is gonna write.

Best writing traits: uhhhhhh... e...motions? safety? i am never going to have like the best characterizations or the most intricately crafted plot, but hopefully we all had a good safe time and we left feeling like...cared for. oh and also like...making things feel sexy to read about regardless of whether they would actually be sexy to experience. and not as much recently, but sometimes making people care about pairings or tropes that they didn’t know they were going to care about.

Spicy tangential opinion: almost all writing advice is terrible and almost every post going around with 20k notes with tips for writing is actually just trash and should be ignored. also like maybe don’t complain about not getting enough comments if you don’t leave comments for other people.

No pressure tagging: @captn-sara-holmes @kangofu-cb @mollynoble @heartonfirewrites @ticklefighthockey @coffeeinallcaps @violsva @anactorya and anyone who happens to see this and wants to fill it out!

[joycecarolnotes]

tagged by the delightful @itsevidentvery to do this fanfic questions thing! thank u for thinking of me :)

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

27, I’ve deleted a few over the years or it’d be more

2) what is your total ao3 word count?

113,638. can’t imagine what it would be if you counted all the stuff I’ve posted on tumblr or that’s still languishing in google docs, a truly mortifying number for sure!

3) how many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

two, both tv series: Silicon Valley and now Loki

4) what are your top 5 fics by Kudos.

safe space 

riches and wonders 

managing expectations 

in the loop

how to be a knife

funny to see two of my newest fics on this list! guess that happens when you write for a show people actually watch, who knew

5) do you respond to comments?

I always try to respond even though I usually just say thank you - I cherish every comment and they leave me too happily dumbstruck to say much else!

6) what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

the angstiest thing I’ve written from beginning to end is probably pipe down which is about sexual manipulation

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

maybe never stopped? I try to write happy or at least hopeful endings most of the time (life’s hard enough as it is!) but I felt like I owed the happiest of endings to the people who read “never stopped” and to the characters themselves for waiting YEARS for me to get to it. it features a cat named charlotte bronte!

8) do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've ever written?

not quite a crossover but the hourglass project is an sv au inspired by the doctor who episode “the girl who waited” 

9) have you ever received hate on a fic?

people have, for the most part, been incredibly kind and generous with me

10) Do you write smut? What kind?

the kind that’s really character study masquerading as pornography (when I’m not feeling too shy to)

11)have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

the aforementioned “the hourglass project” was translated into mandarin which was such a cool honor I’m still not over it

13) have you ever co-written a fic before.

not quite, I’m temperamental and would be hard to work with. although @itsevidentvery remember when we did those letters back and forth, from jared to richard and vice versa?! those were fun :)

14) whats your favourite ship?

jared/richard from silicon valley will always have my heart, although at the moment I am extremely taken with loki/mobius from the loki series. their dynamic and the characters themselves both feel very rich and multifaceted I can see them being a long-time fav for me

15) whats a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I do want to finish love at firstsight someday but it hasn’t been appealing lately so who knows if/when that will happen. I have a couple of things in the works rn that I’m afraid I won’t finish but really hope I do. one is this loki au in which loki accepts an offer from miss minutes to be returned to the timeline and made king and to have never done anything to hurt his family but it’s a “be careful what you wish for” type situation... it feels different from what I usually write and like it’ll be a challenge to stick with but I like the concept so much

16) What are your writing strengths.

picking emotionally intense characters to write about so that when I write the most excruciatingly Extra shit people will think it’s in character

17) what are your writing weaknesses?

frequent bouts of writers blocks and despair! I’d also like to get better at plot/pacing and keeping up momentum over longer pieces

18) what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

I try not to do it much because I only read/write english and who knows what google translate is making me say. I did write a sex scene in which characters communicate in morse code via hand-squeezes once (in i’m lucky i’m lucky), which is a concept I’m still enamored with

19) what was the first fandom you wrote for.

silicon valley

20) what's your favourite fic you've ever written?

oh geez I don’t know. nothing comes to mind and I’m afraid to look back at any to figure it out. but, I would like to give a little shoutout to my latest, time’s the charm (a sort of a loki/mobius soulmate au), because I don’t think people read or liked it much but I’m quite proud of how it turned out!

I genuinely don’t know who still follows me who might be interested in something like this but I will tag @malpal331 and @dancinbutterfly and anyone else who wants to ❤️

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Part 1: Forbidden dance. Unsaid words... (Ian Kingsley x F!MC)

Author’s Note: This is rewritten dancing scene from chapter 15 book 1. This scene was perfect by its own but I needed to add more to it as something obviously was missing. I’m publishing it before today's chapter will be released. Please comment and reblog. 

All rights belongs to Pixelbery, most dialogues used from the chapter except some parts I rewrote adding more detailed or spicing them up :)  All characters including my love Ian Kingsley belongs to PB, except my MC Alison.

Please let me know, if you want to be added or removed from tag list. This will have two parts.

Waiting: NSFW/18+/M + angst

Pairing: Ian Kingsley x MC (Alison)

Words: 4248

Alison slowly walked through the dance floor, navigating among waltzing couples, trying to avoid them as best as she could. She felt otherworldly in this place, like a stranger coming from another world. Feeling foreign among the crowd she not belonged to, among the people, she not cared for... Her white princess-like dress was fluttering around her ankles. Her golden curls cascading down her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face. Her teeth digging nervously into her bottom lip, and her sparkling eyes hesitantly wandering through the crowd, trying to spot the only person she would want to dance with... the only person she couldn’t openly be with.

She sighed dreamily when her big baby blue eyes finally spotted him loitering by the stage. She halted in her tracks, contemplating if she should approach him. She knew that this was the risk no one was willing to take, but when their eyes met across the dance floor all the reasons why just disappeared. Her eyes softening while she was looking at the only person in this place she gave a damn about. The person who was standing like a thousand miles away, on the opposite side of the dance floor. Alison stood still for a moment before making a decision that could ruin them both. And before she could change her mind, she started to walk toward Ian. Her eyes solely on him. Her gaze, not wavering from his, at least until the moment he swiftly turned around, ducking into the wings. Alison's eyes widened, and she gaped in shock at the empty space that he left behind him. Cautiously she looked around to make sure she hadn't been watched, then lifting the hem of her dress from the floor, she followed him, making her way backstage.

“Alison,” she heard a quiet voice calling for her after she entered the backstage. Her eyes adjusting to the dim light as she turned to face the man she wanted to spend her evening with.

“I thought you were trying to run away from me.” she half-joked, half-wandered if that was the reason he went in there.

“I'm sorry. I was aiming to find somewhere we wouldn't be seen, and I hoped you would follow... I hoped...,” he goes silent for a moment looking down uncertainly before lifting his gaze to meet Alison's, smiling softly at her before extending his hand. “I hoped you would have this dance with me?”

“Only because you're so charming.” Alison laughed softly taking his hand, feeling how his other hand gently circled around her waist. The two of them started to sway to the music filtering in from the ballroom.

He pulled her closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder, the smell of his cologne warm and comforting.

“You look stunning,” he whispered into her ear. His lips skimming along the rim of her earlobe making her shudder from the pleasant warmth spreading through her body.

“You're looking particularly classy yourself.” She murmured, pressing her body even closer to his, bathing in the warmth radiating from him.

“I couldn't help noticing you making the rounds like a true socialite earlier.” Ian breathed in to Alison’s ear, his thumb leaving light circles on her bare back just above her waist.

“It's one of those necessary evils, I guess. Go to the gala, play schmoozical chairs with people who eat gold nuggets for breakfast.” she shrugged with a lift of her shoulders, letting him guide her through the waltzing steps.

Ian laughed quietly, but his expression quickly sobered.

“It's funny, thinking back to when we first met, I could tell you weren't from around here,” he said pausing for a moment before continuing. “Now... you feel almost like you were born into this world.”

“Ian...,” Alison said. Her voice barely above the whisper, wondering what his reply will be to the question she was about to ask. “Did you like that Alison better?” she finally asked not daring to look him in the eyes. The next words she spoke rushed out from her before her brain could even catch up with what she was saying. “The Alison from the bar that was still naive and innocent? Still reeling from that first showdown with Poppy? Did you... did you like her better?”

Softly Ian touched her cheek, running his hand over the smooth skin of her face, carefully lifting her head up with the tips of his fingers.

“You're still the same vibrant, intelligent, witty Alison I had met that day. And I'm exceptionally fond, and proud, of you.” Ian said softly, his eyes meeting hers. The rueful smile touched his lips and he sigh sadly before continuing. “But I know Belvoire isn't a kind place. I see it every day in my classes. I just hope it hasn't tarnished you in ways I can't see.”

“And if it has?” Alison asked holding her breath for his reply.

“Then I hope you will one day feel comfortable telling me about it, so that I can help rid you of that tarnish.” Ian whispered against her lips. His forehead pressed to hers, feeling her exhale sharply at his confession. “All I want, is to be someone you can rely on.”

“I do rely on you. More than you even know,” she said quietly.

“I suppose I just wonder, if you do win this, what pressures will you face in the coming year?”

“I mean, the obvious answer is Poppy trying to dethrone me. Which, honestly, I don't even care,” she shrugged, lifting her hand to his face. Her delicate fingers tracing the worry line on his forehead, while Ian steered her into a slow circle, peering down into her face.

“Really? You don't care?” mused he.

“Ian, I'm not like Poppy! I'm not obsessive about the rankings!” she replied with a soft smile that lifted the sides of her lips.

“And yet, from what I've gathered, she is. I can't imagine her letting you live in peace.” he sighed, the anxiety slowly creeping inside him and the feeling that something bad about to happen firmly settled inside. He could feel how his heart clenched and he squeezed Alison a little bit tighter bringing her closer to him, soothed by the sound of her steadily beating heart. He slowly took her hand with his. His fingers wrapping around her wrist gently, twirling her in a slow circle, feeling the fluttering pulse point under his touch.

“I get that you're worried, but... I just want to focus on us right now,” she breathed when he brought her back into his arms. His hands wrapped securely around her waist. Her face pressed into his neck, feeling his warmth. Her lips brushing against his pulse, making it to beat faster under her touch, murmuring against it. “This is probably the only moment we'll get together tonight. I don't want to think about anything else.”

As a reply to her plea he wrapped both arms around Alison, squeezing her tightly, before coming to a standstill in the center of the backstage area. Their eyes met when Ian brought his lips to hers, kissing them gently.

“You're all that I want to focus on to. You're all I ever want to focus on. I care about you a great deal, Alison,” he said, feeling how his heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

“Then just hold me, Ian” pleaded Alison snuggling closer to him, feeling how his hold tightened on her.

The two of them danced close, feeling safe in his arms and relaxing for the first time since stepping into the ballroom.

“Ian?” she called his name muffled by the skin of his neck, where her lips were still pressed to.

“Yes, Alison?” he breathed. His face buried in the nape of her neck inhaling the sweet scent of violets, while his hands drew lazy circles on her bare back.

“Thanks for looking out for me. It means a lot to have you here tonight,” she said lifting her head to look him in the eyes.

Ian tilted his head and pressed his lips to Alison’s for a chaste, lingering kiss.

“I'm rooting for you, Alison. If you want to win this gala, then I want that for you, because I want you to be happy,” he said, trying to hide as best as he could the worry and sadness from her. He parted his lips ready to say something more, to reassure her that everything will be okay no matter what. But just before he could they heard footsteps approaching, making them both tense in each other’s arms.

“Yeah, hang on, I think I saw them backstage!” they heard someone to speak, the footsteps even closer than before.

Ian pressed his lips to her forehead closing his eyes with a sigh, making her heart flutter, but in a sad, painful kind of way. In that fleeting moment she wished for more time with him, for the chance not to hide. Wishing for them to have all the time in the world to be together without being scared of Poppy’s blackmail or the judgment of anyone else.

She lifted her gaze meeting Ian’s filled with sadness and pain. The tears of anger for prejudice fogged her eyes and the determination filled her when she grabbed his hand pulling him with urgency and strength toward the back exit.

“Let’s go,” she whispered in a hurried tone, running out of venue pulling Ian behind her, thankful to the darkness that swallowed them the moment they stepped outside.

As soon as they were at a safe distance, she breathed a sigh of relief letting go of Ian’s hand. Her heart soaring feeling finally free for the first time since stepping to the grounds of Belvoire and getting pulled into this popularity race. The race she even wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of... The race where she should have pretended to be someone who she wasn’t, still trying not to lose herself by becoming another Poppy... And now here and in that moment she finally could be herself, without worrying about anyone else’s opinion... about worrying to become someone who she despised.

Quickly she kicked her shoes off, feeling how her bare feet sank in the cool evening grass. The feeling overwhelmed her and she could feel how the laugh started to bubble inside her until she could no longer hold it back. She threw her head back letting it flow freely through the summer’s air. Her golden hair bouncing when she turned her head toward Ian, meeting his intense gaze winking at him before starting to run toward the lake, that she knew was hidden among the trees.

It didn’t take Ian long to start chasing her. His heart thumping loudly in his chest watching her disappear among the trees. Alison’s laugh filled the air. His eyes following her every move not able to tear his gaze away from her. Chasing after the girl he shouldn’t have chased after. Chasing after the girl who unknowingly to herself stole his heart, making him reckless and ready to give up everything he was working for so hard. His laugh joined hers while they ran freely through the field. Far away from prying eyes and prejudice. Far away from everyone who would be able to ruin their future, not caring for anyone except each other. His eyes focused on Alison running in front of him, white dress was fluttering in the wind.

Before long he finally caught up with her. His hand reaching for hers interlacing their fingers together feeling the sparkles of electricity the moment they touched. Slowly... carefully he turned her to face him, pulling her closer. His lips meeting Alison’s in a soft lingering kiss, silencing her laugh.

Gently he guided her backwards to the tree behind them, their bodies pressed together as one. His hand placed on her waist while another was still holding hers. His thumb circling over her knuckles, while his lips were moving in unison with hers. His tongue slipping inside meeting hers eliciting a soft moan from Alison’s luscious lips, the ones he wanted to kiss so badly, the ones he never wanted to stop kissing. Her tongue sliding against his. Her hand snaking around his neck pulling him closer, intensifying the kiss. Carefully, he lowered her to the grass his lips leaving hers sliding along her jaw line toward the neck kissing and sucking on the pulse point fluttering under his caresses till the moment she started to whimper, writhing beneath him.

“Please,” she moaned, raising her hips to meet his. Her body pressing firmer, not leaving any space between them, making him groan in appreciation when her body skimmed along his hardened length. He lifted his head after leaving a final kiss to her pulse point before meeting Alison’s gaze. His eyes almost black from desire and his lips moving to hers murmuring softly against them.

“Are you sure...,” he groaned moving against her, making her feel how much of affect she made on him. His hips rolling against hers making her hips thrust forwards, grinding against his erection. His hand skimming along the soft globes of her breasts, not able to resist the temptation. The other hand running along her body squeezing her backside feeling with satisfaction how her body trembled under his touch.

“Yes, please...,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Her hips jerking up to meet Ian’s. His hand gently squeezing them before pressing them back to the ground kneeling between her legs. His eyes drinking her in as a vision, as a lake goddess laying in front of him. Her white dress spread on the grass crumpled around them. Her chest heaving and her lips swollen from the kisses they shared just a moment ago. His eyes lingered for a moment longer on her flushed cheeks before meeting her wide blown eyes, when his hand reached to the back of her dress sliding the zipper down. His lips meeting hers again, kissing her slowly, putting in that kiss all emotions he felt toward this amazing woman in his arms. His hands touching every inch of her bare skin that got exposed to him, lowering her dress. His eyes getting darker when he reluctantly pulled away drinking in her bare form beneath his still clothed body. His lips skimming along the curve of her shoulder sucking gently on her skin, while murmuring praises to her beauty, reminding her how much she meant to him, but still holding on the three little words he was willing to say, but wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear them. His lips moving up tracing the line of her neck. The fingertips of his right hand running down her body, starting from her collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His lips following them just a moment later, leaving a trail of small, soft kisses along the path that his fingertips made. The soft moan escaping her throat when he hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her white lace panties kissing her navel before dragging them down her long legs, leaving her completely bare in front of him.

Ian sucked in the breath not able to tear his eyes away from the girl that occupied his every dream, and was constantly in his thoughts during the day. Their eyes fixed on each other when he stood up, starting to peel the layers of his own clothes discarding them to the grass, hypnotising her by his every move. Her eyes moving to the dark path of hairs down his body, making her mouth water when she seen the prominent bulge in his pants. She watched him reaching to the belt, unbuckling it slowly before throwing it away. The next came the button. With one prompt flick of his fingers he popped it open, sliding the zipper down before letting his pats drop to the ground. She gulped audibly watching how the last layers of his clothes got discarded and his thick veiny length bobbed against his sculptured abs.

Soon, he was kneeling between her legs, lapping on her juices, like a starved man in the desert drinking the sweetest nectar he ever had. His fingers joining her mouth stroking her folds gently igniting a roaring fire inside her. Her moans and gasp reaching his ears, getting louder and sweeter with every stroke of his fingers. Her hands grasping his hair as if holding for the dear life. Her hips rolling in rhythm with his tongue. He could feel how close she was, but before she could fall over the edge in the realm of pleasure he stopped, hearing the sigh of protest falling from her luscious lips. Slowly he started to move along her body kissing every inch of her marble skin as if she was a fragile glass that would break if he would kiss harder. His feather-light kisses made Alison lightheaded craving for more... craving for the only person who would take her apart before making her whole again. The three little words forming on her lips ready to fall from them as a sweetest moan he ever heard, but she held on to them tighter not sure if he would be ready to hear them... not sure if that would scare him away.

With the great effort she pushed that thought away, pushing the words she knew were true further just in time for his lips reaching for hers and capturing them in a soft lingering kiss. She could feel how his length pushed gently between her folds, disappearing inside her slowly. It took everything in him not to rush, not to thrust inside her when he heard a softest sweetest sound escaping her lips. His length throbbing painfully hard while he hold on with great difficulty letting her to adjust to his size. His hand cupping her cheek making her eyes to flutter open to meet his. His lips ghosting against her lips not breaking the gaze.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his lips ghosting against hers, while he slowly started to move inside her. “I want to see your eyes every time I would bring you close to your pleasure, every time you would moan my name falling over the edge. I want to savour this,” he groaned, moving painfully slow inside her, making her gasp when the tip of his cock brushed against the sweet spot deep inside her. “I want to savour you.” He added moving inside her tantalisingly slow, while catching to every moan and gasp she made, drinking in the look of pure bliss in her eyes. His hand still cupping her cheek, brushing the thumb gently over it, when she reached toward him mirroring his movement. He leaned forward, feeling the softness of her palm against his stubble. The quiet groan joined her moans in the summer’s air. His other hand grazed her temple softly, before leaning on it above her. His hips moving agonisingly slow. His throbbing length almost leaving the heat of Alison’s depth completely before entering her again, eliciting a soft gasp from her plump lips.

With every cell of his body he could feel how hers trembled underneath him nearing to the release, bringing him closer to his. He lowered his head pressing the forehead against hers. His lips softly moving against hers without breaking their gaze, their moans and gasps muffled. Their eyes and their lips telling everything what they couldn’t say with words. The every joining of their bodies sending sparks of electricity through them, feeling how the pleasure slowly build reaching the peak. The pleasure snapping through them in waves, bringing them to the highest they ever felt. Their breathing mingling, their lips brushing, their eyes fixed on each other while they slowly came back from their highs.

After long, sharing small kisses and light touches, they finally helped each other to get dressed. Alison gently fixing Ian’s bow, while his hands brushed the sides of her dress before resting them on her waist. His forehead pressing to hers inhaling her sweet gentle scent of violets. His hand finding hers and his lips brushing against her temple in a flitting kiss. Without saying anything he squeezed her hand gently leading her back towards the venue. His heard pounding, the sadness feeling him with the new founded power. And before they could even notice it, they stood in front of the backside entrance hidden from unwonted eyes by the shadows of the magnificent building. Alison hidden her face in his chest, feeling how Ian’s arms wrapped around hers waist, holding her tighter against him not able to let her go. Both wanting for that moment to never end. Both knowing that the end was inevitable.

“Best of luck, Alison.” Ian said, reluctantly loosening his hold on her, stepping back with a pained look in his eyes. The soft smile filled with sadness touched his lips before he turned around ready to disappear in the darkness.

“I don’t need luck,” she replied with determination, making him stop in his track and turn to face her. Ian’s questioning look meeting hers. “With you I don’t need luck,” clarified she, stepping closer to him before continuing in a soft whisper, her lips just a breath away while she spoke. “as with you I already have all the luck in the world and everything I ever wanted.” She said before skimming her lips in a flitting kiss over his turning back to the venue.

For a moment Ian stood still trying to process what Alison just said. His eyes following hers every move wanting to pull her back in the shadows and run away with her as far from that place as he could. But instead he stood there watching her wave at him before disappearing behind the corner. The feeling that something terrible about to happen settled deep inside him, but he shook it off reluctantly moving in the direction of the car park. It was only a couple of minutes before Ian heard a bloodcurdling scream coming from the direction where Alison disappeared. His heart dropping from a bad feeling paralysing him, until he started to run in the direction where the scream came from. As soon as he turned around the corner the scene that opened in front of his eyes made him stop dead. His eyes focused on the small figure laying in the pool of blood, soaking in it. The blond hair scattered across the ground, while the silver cabriolet made its way away from the scene.

He could feel how his legs started to carry him toward her, ignoring the curious glances that the forming crowd thrown toward him. His lips parted in a silent prayer, when the single thought passed through his brains “Be okay... please be okay.” His eyes welling up filling with tears when he dropped to his knees near to Alison laying on her front. Carefully he rolled her over. His hand taking hers, when her eyes fluttered open with a groan of pain.

“Alison...,” he breathed, brushing away the locks of her bloodied hair from her forehead. His fingertips gently brushing her temple, making her eyes focus on his for a moment before closing again. Her features pained, and her pulse weak. Her breathing intermittent. “Please Alison, hold on... please hold on,” Ian begged her, cupping her cheek, his lips just a breath away. His hand fumbling with his phone urgently dialling 911. His voice seemed so far away, but Alison still tried to hold on, just as he asked her to. Not ready to give up. Not ready to let him go. Not ready to leave him. Her breath hitched and she could feel how her fingers got number, while the pained groan left her lips.

“They will be here soon,” he whispered lifting her on his knees. His trembling arms wrapping around her. His heart pounding and his hands shaking, praying for her to be okay, praying for the ambulance to be on time. But his voice stayed confident, trying for her not to catch how scared he was, how paralysed he felt. His fingers drawing soothing circles on her back. “Please Alison, open your eyes. Please just look at me. You need to open your eyes and look at me,” he whispered, rocking her gently in his arms, watching how her eyes fluttered open with a big difficulty, trying to focus on his.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. His eyes never leaving hers as if, if he would break the gaze the thread that kept her alive would snap. The fear of losing her was paralysing, but he tried not to show it to her. Fighting that fear with every single cell in his body. Remotely he could hear the ambulance siren getting louder, watching how her eyes slowly fluttered closed before opening once again parting with even more difficulty than before. He could feel how her breathing became weaker hopping that the ambulance wasn’t too late, hopping that it wasn’t too late for them. His lips lowered, leaving a fluttering kiss to her temple, feeling how her weak pulse became barely perceptible. His lips parting and before her world could go black once again she could feel the wetness of his tears mixing with her own and the faint words that only she could hear. The ones she wanted to say but couldn’t. I love you.

To be continued...

Tagging: @annekebbphotography @choices-bound @god-save-the-keen @obsessedheehee

[mitsuhidethesnek]

Time to liveblog Ikepri!

There will be complaining so I won’t tag the characters when I’m complaining lol. Also, this will reflect my blatant bias for scary boys plus Leon. I’m not into softies or tsuns. This is just me airing out MY opinions, so please feel free to disagree and have your own thoughts. I knew I should have started this liveblog earlier. I’m already 4 chapters into Chev’s route. Character first impressions under the cut. Just prologue content.

Prologue thoughts - I like that she owns a bookstore. IkeVamp also had an MC after my own heart, travel journalist. - Yves and Chevalier both lay it on so thick with the insults. Everyone is unworthy to Yves, but it’s his overcompensation from the start. For Chevalier, everyone is just literally inferior because apparently he’s worked so hard to be so ruthlessly superior.

- Eight princes have gathered, one of them will be chosen to be king. Except only our three starter pokemon want to be king, and more than half of them have asked you to be less formal with them lol.

- pfft. Everyone calling Sariel out for kidnapping me. Sariel is like “how dare you accuse me? MC is here of her own free will, right, MC?” and only LEON actually asks my opinion. But he also tries to persuade me by pointing out the icing on top of the ordeal lol.

- I like that Sariel was impressed with me the moment I slapped a drunk. A man who appreciates violence “for a good cause.” I mean, a solid reason to choose me.

- Okay, it is furthermore not about eight different princes vying for power. It’s really just two factions. Team Chevalier and Team Leon. plus Yves kind of

- Prologue Chapter 8 is where Leon starts being nice to you wants to know your thoughts. uwu

- This MC asks questions multiple times. She asked “why her?” for Belle multiple times. It’s extra self-deprecating, which I’m not into, but I guess it’s humble. She doesn’t understand that just being a commoner is enough. It could be anyone. And it just one unlucky standout moment she was chosen for. Leon gives a good reason though. We need someone common who understands what it’s like to be human, because all the royals are a bunch of beasts.

- I love that Belle is a title. Such a good trope. Like how Alice is a title in Ikerev

- I wonder if our translation enthusiasts are complaining. Probably. >> The English localization seems really on the nose with some lines. ><

Individual character thoughts

Rio

- I was expecting puppy immaculate sub. I wasn’t expecting literally obsessed with you. But the fact that he makes Sariel nervous and is too much for Sariel is HILARIOUS. Terrifying levels of enthusiasm. I approve.

- Unfortunately Rio is exactly the type of man I have often had to discourage. It is never just harmless flirting! >< Girl, he gonna keep trying even once you’re married.

Sariel

- Sariel has some sexy lines, but it is 100% creepy since we don’t know each other. - I figured he was my type. Sadistic. Devil-type. The way they do it is he says some pretty unnatural things that imply violence and madness. Disciplinarian. He’s extra and kind of unbelievable and way too handsy in a way that makes him come off shady, but I’m here for the sadistic disciplinarian ride.

-I was looking forward to the contrast between Sariel and Rio, someone who makes you serve and someone else who loves to serve, so I’m here for that contrast. Yves

- No, I don’t appreciate you insulting me every second. He seems like a dainty tsun, so not really my type off the bat.

- However, something tells me his story might be surprisingly moving and relatable? Kind of like Ikevamp Mozart or Ikerev Jonah. Very prim condescending characters who reveal relatable insecurities and standards. Characters that reveal more in their routes than as NPCs.

Luke

- I’m not into big kind guys, but he’s honestly a breath of fresh air. I like that he’s not an active flirt, but what he says is just extra friendly so it comes off flirty. He’s the tallest and is compared to a bear. He doesn’t want to be king. So he seems like someone who will just be nice. I like that he’s super not into the drama and tries to get away from it and discourages it.

Jin

- He’s not my type either. He’s the eldest brother, so he has this knowing air about him all the time like nothing surprises him. But he’s just an observer and commenter so far, doesn’t really interfere. He’s more cool like IkeRev Ray, not an uptight brother-mom figure.

Licht

- Not my type either. Reminds me of IkeRev Harr and Luke. Just really quiet at first so it’s hard to say. He might be the most normal though of all the brothers. Similar to Luke, where he wants to stay out of the drama, but much more taciturn and grumpy about it.

Nokto

- He’s my type. Constantly trying to get in your pants. But he’s coming off kind of cheesy and just nonstop horny to me. Idk, I like seductive enticing dialogue, and I lose interest when it goes past coaxing to full on pushing.

Clavis

- I was REALLY hype for Clavis. Constantly amused character. Turns out, he’s not just this puppeteer in the background. He’s a full on meddler, which I’m still into. He likes starting chaos for its own sake.

- I wonder if he’s different in other routes, but so far having started Chev’s route, I don’t like that he’s mostly here to cause chaos in all matters relating to Chev, instead of being about causing mischief in general. And I don’t like that he’s more of a prankster. I was hoping for sophisticated knowing trickster.

Chevalier

- He lays his superiority complex on SUPER thick. The payoff is supposed to be good when he goes from being utterly unimpressed with you to being obsessed with you. But it’s super disheartening to have characters that make me feel like an idiot. And it’s just how he treats everyone, not just me, but he lays it on thickest at me.

- I literally only like this dude because he’s got that regal IkeSen Kenshin gaze and black fur-lined cape. My brain goes stupid for the regal fur boa, and I like that it’s black against his white color scheme because it suggests that he is the sinister brutal white of winter. So I’m here for all those metaphors.

- But he’s really extreme in how his character revolves around basically two thoughts: Love is worthless. Everyone has a use, and I don’t care about anything but the use of things.

Leon

- saved Leon for last because he’s too easily my favorite!! I’m glad I started Chev’s route because there’s no way I would have touched anyone else if I had started with Leon.

- He’s the best parts of Ikesen Masamune and Nobunaga and Ikevamp Napoleon and Leo! 

- I’m a sucker for the one character who actually cares about what I think and values it even when I underrate my own opinion. ;~;

- He’s the domestic faction in contrast to Chev the foreign faction. so already Chev is about conquest, and Leon is about doing a good job as King taking care of the people. Leon radiates power and can apply it at will, but mostly he asks first, and it’s so nice. Best of both worlds! Power and compassion!

- In a lot of his dialogue, the way he appeals to you is: “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do anything that you’re not ready for. But if you do, it will be fun and life-changing. What do you say? Will you put your trust in me?” He never makes me feel bad for choosing what makes me feel safe or better. And he makes the danger option sound good because he acknowledges the danger and shifts your focus to the benefits, and you know you’ll be protected if you stay by him.

In summary...

I’m here for Leon.

I’m hopeful that Chevalier, Nokto, Sariel and Rio will scratch my itch for their tropes.

Luke and Yves surprised me. I’m open.

Lost interest in Clavis.

No interest in Jin and Licht so far.

[thesassenachswiftie]

Chapter 2: “You Need To Calm Down)

Read on AO3

Summary:

Chapter 2 is here! It's time for Claire and Jamie's first fight but that also it's time for their first make-up sex. This is my first time writing Smut but @statell assures me I did a good job. If that's really not your thing (I mean you are reading OL fanfic so it probably is), it's all the big paragraph near the end and the two dialogue paragraphs after you can easily skip to the last 3 dialogue paragraphs without losing the plot. Big thanks to everyone following along on this journey and all the kudos and comments on the last chapter.

This chapter is not only inspired by "You Need to Calm Down" but also by "The Reckoning" any quotes borrowed from either of these works belong to their respective author whom I am indebted to and admire greatly.

Notes:

First of all, I’m on Twitter now @sassenachswifty.

Second of all, There was a short lived comment on AO3 about Jo's pronouns on my last chapter. I genuinely think the commenter realized their mistake and deleted it before I had a chance to respond--which is fine and good, heaven knows I've made mistakes with pronouns and felt weird and caught of guard about them and all of that. Basically they were saying the they/them pronons were not grammatically correct and were distracting to the reader. I get that, I totally do, it feels uncomfortable because we were never taught about the singular they in school and it looks/sounds weird if you're not used to it. However, the sigular they has been recognized by APA, MLA and I believe Chicago style and is, therefore grammatically correct. It's something I'm getting used to as a writer and it's something we can try to get used to as readers as we move forward into a more progressive society. Our grandkids are going to make fun of us someday for struggling with pronouns. I just wanted to say it's ok to struggle, it's not ok to dismiss (which I genuinely believe the commenter was not doing). Jo came to me as a nonbinary character, and while it is a good exercise in pronoun usage for me as an author, that is not their primary function in the story, they are there to be Claire’s friend first and foremost. They/them are Jo's pronouns and I cannot and will not call them anything else because that would be disrespectful to them. My only other option would be to use "Jo" in every instance where he/she/her/him would come up which would be annoying, repetative and frankly, bad writing. Thank you for coming to my TED talk, now on with the show!

Chapter 2: “You Need To Calm Down”

Claire awoke in Jamie’s bed early on Saturday morning.  It was graduation day, but she was definitely not walking the stage.  Still laying on her side, she picked up her phone off the nightstand and began mindlessly scrolling Facebook, stopping at a collection of photos from an end of semester happy hour the night before.  Frank was there as well as several of their mutual friends.  Were they still friends? Probably not anymore, who knows if they ever were.  Claire tapped from the photos posted by Gillian to the tag that took her to Frank’s profile.  She scrolled down his feed to see if there were any new updates. Other than the pictures, it was the same barely cryptic statuses that were clearly throwing shade her way to anyone that knew.  In a tweet? That’s a cop-out. Taking shots at me like it's Patrón, she mused to herself, recalling the pictures from the night before. Claire began swiping through Frank’s photos going back further and further.  Her and Frank in front of the house with the “sold” sign in the yard.  A candid picture she took of Frank in a coffee shop one day.  Brilliant, smiling faces of them and their friends all dressed up at their New Year’s Eve party--many of the people pictured in the photos from last night. Frank proudly standing with his arm around her, Claire beaming and angling her hand just so a few days after they got engaged.  Claire was so engrossed in these images she didn’t realize Jamie had awoken behind her.  He leaned over to plant a kiss on that spot just behind her ear, pausing when he saw what she was looking at, “Damn Sassenach, it’s seven AM for Chrissakes” he hissed.

Claire’s face flushed immediately. She had been caught.  She didn’t even know why she was doing what she was doing, but she felt ashamed, defensive, embarrassed, and justified all at once.  She swiped out of her Facebook app instantly but it was too late.  He had seen and the damage had been done. She couldn’t speak, she didn’t have any good excuses, and she definitely couldn’t turn to look at Jamie. She set the phone back down on the nightstand and burrowed her curly head under the pillow trying to avoid his gaze.  She couldn’t see his face, but she knew Jamie was watching her intently waiting for an explanation.

“Hey, are you ok? I dinna mean to snap at ye Claire, It’s just early and I dinna expect to see ye looking at pictures of your ex after what I thought was such a satisfying night. Am I not good enough for ye Claire?”  His tone started gentle and caring, but his veins were pulsing with jealous rage and his voice got more angry and frantic as he continued.  “Look at me, Claire!”

Claire didn’t like being told what to do, especially not with the newfound feminist energy Jo had ignited in her.  She hoisted herself out from her cocoon, and sprang up to face him. “I don’t have to do what you tell me to. You need, to calm down, you’re being too loud!”

 He made a distinctly Scottish noise--“Hmpph. That’s not what ye said last night Sassenach” he growled.  He couldn’t help flirting with her even in his anger. She looked so bonny, bare-breasted with her curls splayed every which way, the fire of her anger alight in her whisky eyes--frightening and sexy at the same time.

Claire wasn’t amused by his quip, or by the tone of voice in which he said it, “you need to just stop, like can you just not? I don’t like it one bit!”

“Not what, Claire? Not want ye only for myself? Not feel jealous seeing pictures of that rat bastard with his smug grin and his arm around ye to be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning? You do belong to me, whether ye like it or not. Why are you mad? I’m the only one allowed to be mad, Claire! Yer mine, damn ye Claire! Mine, and I wilna share ye, with a man or a memory or anything whatsoever”

Her glass face broke before his eyes as he raised his voice louder.  Her anger had turned to something fragile, something Jamie was afraid he would break.  Even still, she spoke softly, but confidently, “I don’t belong to you or anyone, I’m my own person. You need to just take several seats” She glanced away from him, trying to keep her composure.  

Controlling his urge to scream, he replied “I know that, that’s not what I meant.  I ain’t trying to mess with who you are or your self expression, I mean that I am yours just as much as you are mine”

Damn, he’s good, thought Claire as she met his gaze again.  His passion, even when directed towards anger, was still sexy.

“Claire, I see you over there on the internet all the time, this isn’t the first time you’ve done this is it?”

She nodded in agreement, embarrassed, but somehow she felt safe admitting it to Jamie.  She was beginning to realize just how much he truly cared about her.  As strange as it seemed, through this small fight, their relationship was moving from simply mutual, passionate attraction to something deeper.  It might have been there all along beyond the urges of the flesh, but she was just now truly seeing it.  It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time.

“Listen, I’ve learned a lesson that stressing and obsessing about somebody else is no fun.” Jamie disclosed, trying to restore the peace. “He’s not worth your time if he let a girl like you go on the drop of a hat like that.” This made Claire wince internally, hoping he didn’t see, there was more to it than that.  He didn’t seem to notice and continued, “What we have is like sunshine, but you act like you would rather be in the dark.”  He reached for her arm, caressing it gently.

“You’ve figured me out.  You’re right, I don’t know why I keep checking on him. I guess I’m hoping I’ll find out something horrible has happened to him; but I promise, only you have me.”

“I mean to have you Claire, I am your master and you are mine. It seems I cannot possess your soul without losing my own.”  Both of Jamie’s hands were on Claire’s arms now, gripping her more firmly now. They were drawing closer to each other, the passion of their anger still surging in their veins. “I want you Claire, I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. Will you have me?”

“Yes.”

Their lips met with a fervour unlike any they had experienced before, hands caressing everywhere. Claire moaned into Jamie’s mouth as his hand cupped her breast, stroking her nipple vigorously with his palm.  His lips moved to her neck, that spot behind her ear that made her giggle and squeak.  He was ravenous, consuming her flesh with his lips, making his way down to her other breast, sucking her nipple as he ran his tongue around it, willing all sorts of noises to emit from her mouth.  She was straddling him, grinding against him, feeling his wanting against her in just the right spot. She thrust her hands into his boxer briefs, tugging at his hips to bring them even closer.  He responded in kind, slipping his hands into the lace waistband her cotton panties and grabbing that arse he loved so much.  He moved one hand around to her front and started stroking her most sensitive area and slipped a finger inside her.  “Oh, Jamie” she moaned as she began to ease his waistband down.  She allowed herself to let him go for a moment, releasing him to remove his underwear, as she did the same.  As soon as they were fully exposed to one another, she was on top of him again.  She moved herself up and down his length, feeling him rub against her, igniting a euphoric sensation in her core. When neither of them could take it anymore he slipped inside her, and she took him in to the hilt, riding him almost violently.  All the anger and shame she had felt moments ago had transformed into a primal lust unleashed on him. He responded in kind, kissing her vigorously across breasts, neck and shoulders until she shoved him back on the bed to gain a better angle.  Pushing her hand to his chest for leverage, she rode him harder than she’d ever ridden anyone before--not even the vibrator she used to experiment with in college. She could see he was close, his face contorting as he resisted the urge to finish before her.

“Sassenach, you’ll be the death of me” he groaned.

“Just a little more, Jamie” she panted, just before crying out, “Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh”. Seeing her satisfied, he allowed himself to finish as well.  Claire gently detached from him and collapsed beside him, breathless, resting on his chest, hair sprawled across him.

“Oh Sassenach, ye keep that up and I’m liable to pick fights with you more often” he sighed.

“You better watch out before you start something you can’t finish” she quipped in response.  

Jamie simply made a Scottish noise in reply, staring at the ceiling stroking her hair, wondering if he had, in fact, done just that.

End Note:

I try to slip in as many lyrics from each song as possible and make it still "work", occasionally changing tenses or adding/subtracting words to make them work. Claire's orgasm moans are the "oh oh's" in the chorus of YNTCD and I'm simultaneously proud of myself and ashamed.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Encounters & Events

A JSE Fanfic

Usually I don’t write two parts of the same story so close together (since I have...so many stories I need to work on) but my muse for this has been going crazy. And people really seem to like this! So I decided to go ahead and, you know, write some of the more important events, including a huge reveal right at the end. This turned out a bit longer than usual, but it’s mostly dialogue, so it should go fast. Let’s check in on all the boys—and I do mean all the boys—shall we? :3c

You can find the other stories under the pw timeline tag!

“Luna, no, stop bothering your brother.” Marvin, carefully balancing a bowl in one hand, reached forward and tried scooting the small black cat away from the terrarium with the other. Said cat looked up at him with big yellow eyes. “Don’t give me that look. He’s probably trying to sleep. You’re annoying him. Go.”

After a few more careful nudges, the cat, Luna stood up and jumped off the table. She stalked to the open doorway, where she proceeded to flop down on her side and stare at him, not moving at all.

Marvin scowled at her. “I will step over you. You are tiny.” He turned back to the room at whole. It looked kind of bare, despite being back home for almost a week. He had yet to take all his knickknacks and posters out of the boxes and put them back up around the room. But the furniture—sofa, armchair, coffee table, table for the terrarium, and television—was all where he’d left them. The room hadn’t changed. The walls and furniture were still shades of blue, his gold stars still painted on the ceiling. And he could still eat his pasta while sitting on the sofa like he wanted to.

He set his bowl down on the coffee table and proceeded to flop down on the sofa before remembering he left his drink back in the kitchen. He sighed, and stood back up. And then the doorbell rang. Well. At least he was already standing up. He walked over to the front door, glanced through the peephole, and then opened it. “Hi JJ.”

Hello. JJ was standing on the doorstep, bouncing awkwardly. I hope I’m not bothering you.

“No, it’s fine, I was just about to have lunch.” Marvin shrugged. “You want to come inside?”

Please.

Marvin stepped aside to let JJ walk in. Before he entered, JJ bent over and picked up a gift bag he must have set down earlier. Once he was inside, JJ held the bag out for Marvin to take. Happy late birthday.

“Oh!” Marvin took the gift bag, looping his arm through the handles. “I thought you forgot.”

No, I’ve just been busy, JJ signed, looking sheepish. Sorry, I know I said I was going to help you unpack and such a few days ago. 

“It’s fine. I mean, I don’t think I can ever say anything about people leaving now that I’ve gone and...you know.” Marvin laughed. It came out a little forced.

JJ glanced around the living room, noting the boxes still sitting around with stuff inside. Do you still need help?

“Yeah. How’d you tell?” Marvin kicked the nearest box. “How’s it feel to be the only one in the group with executive function that actually works?”

JJ chuckled. By the way, I think your cat is trying to steal your noodles.

“Wha...?” Marvin spun around. “Luna Void! Get away from there!” He quickly crossed the room, picking up the black cat just before her paw dipped into the bowl. “That’s human food, not cat food. And I just filled your bowl, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

Luna meowed.

Marvin shook his head, glancing around the room. He noticed a big ball of white and brown fluff sitting on the armchair. “Here, play with Ragamuffin.” He set Luna on top of the fluff ball, which meowed and lifted its head, revealing itself to be a ragdoll cat, mostly off-white with a brown tail, face, and ears. “Shush, you love her, Muffin.” Ragamuffin meowed again as Luna flopped across him. Marvin looked back at JJ. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

I love them, JJ signed happily, eyes locked on the two cats.

Marvin laughed. “You can come by to see them any time. Your building still have the rules about pets?”

Yes, sadly. JJ sighed. Not even Mr. Purple Snake is allowed.

“Hey, Salazar isn’t purple, he’s lavender,” Marvin corrected. “Purple makes it sound like he’s the same shade as that thing from McDonald’s, while lavender is the actual name of the morph.”

And he has stripes.

“Exactly, he’s a striped lavender snake,” Marvin said, nodding.

Fits you perfectly, JJ commented. Anyway, are you going to open your present now or later?

“I can do it now,” Marvin said, grabbing the gift bag off his arm. He sat down on the sofa, searching through the tissue paper. JJ took a seat next to him. After pulling out all the paper, Marvin reached into the bag and pulled out a golden heart-shaped locket. His eyes widened. “No way.” He turned the locket over, noticing a small key, which he wound a few times. The chimes of a music box started playing. Marvin looked up at JJ. “Oh my god. Oh my god. I thought this was a collector’s item, how did you find one?”

Someone was selling it online, JJ explained. I know you really like the game, so I thought you’d like it. He looked hopeful. Well...do you?

“Fuck, of course I do.” Marvin lifted the locket to his ear, listening to the familiar melody. “Oh my god. Oh my god, JJ. Thank you so much.” Words weren’t enough to describe what he was feeling, so Marvin grabbed JJ’s hand and squeezed it tight, swinging it a little. He let go sooner than he would’ve liked to, so JJ could respond if he wanted.

I’m glad, JJ signed, beaming. I wanted to get you something that meant a lot, since it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.

“Yeah...yeah, it has, hasn’t it?” Marvin rewound the music box as it slowed down. He suddenly felt his eyes well with tears. He turned away from JJ, rubbing his eyes.

JJ picked up on it, of course. Are you okay? he asked, concern lining his face.

“Fine.” Marvin’s voice cracked on the single syllable. “I-It just...fine. I’m just...a lot of things have happened.”

Jameson scooted closer. Do you want to talk about it?

“No,” Marvin said, perhaps a little too fast. “I’m good.” He didn’t want to explain this to any of them. He wasn’t sure what they’d think of him if they knew. It might just be better if he kept silent about it. Part of him whispered that they’d want to know why he left eventually, but he...he didn’t think he was brave enough to listen to that part.

JJ looked at him oddly. You sure?

Well...there was a smaller thing that he thought was safe to talk about. “Well...” he said slowly. “You know, Schneep and I really liked this game.” He squeezed the locket under his hand. “It was kind of our thing. He joked that it was his birthday gift, since it, y’know, came out the same day. The two of us were the only ones who liked it for a long time, and we kept fucking badgering Jack to play it on the channel.” Marvin smiled. “No joke, we one time spent two hours straight just talking about it.” The smile faded. “I just...I miss him, I guess.”

Jameson didn’t say anything for some time. Then: I see, he signed. But he’s back now, isn’t he? You can go visit.

“Yeah, I know that, like intellectually,” Marvin explained. “But I-I don’t know, I guess I’m nervous. That something will go wrong. Y’know, Chase told me what happened at the last visit.”

JJ bit his lip. Well. That might’ve been because of me. I think that he just freaked out because...he thought I was someone else.

Was that what happened? Chase had said that JJ somehow caused Schneep to freak out, but he hadn’t mentioned it was because Schneep thought he was someone else. “Still,” Marvin said, and then fell silent.

You can go with Chase, if you want, for support, JJ suggested. 

“Maybe,” Marvin said slowly. “Maybe I should just go today, just jump in impulsively.” He...he did really want to see him. “Maybe Chase can come too, he can drive me.”

I think Chase has something to do today, JJ said.

“Really? What?”

I don’t know. JJ shrugged. 

“Maybe he’s filming or something,” Marvin wondered out loud. “Would you want to come, if I went to see Schneep today?”

Jameson immediately paled. I don’t think that’s a good idea, given how he reacted.

“He could’ve forgotten,” Marvin suggested.

In a few days?

“I don’t know, it’s possible. He used to complain a lot about how he didn’t have a strong sense of...time.”

Well, I’m still not sure it’s a good idea, JJ signed slowly. Besides, I have work this evening.

“Oh yeah,” Marvin recalled. “You still working for, uhhh what’s-his-face? Mr. Paddington, or something?”

JJ smiled. Mr. Patterson, he signed, spelling it out. And yes. Are you still working at the boutique?

Marvin’s face fell. “No.” He paused, then continued in sign. I got fired. About a month before I left.

Jameson’s mouth formed a small O shape. I’m sorry.

It’s fine, I hated retail anyway, Marvin signed dismissively.

For a moment more, they just sat there. I think your cats are fighting, JJ signed after a while.

Marvin looked over at the armchair and watched as Ragamuffin shoved Luna off the seat. “They’re fine, Muffin’s just grumpy.”

Ah. Jameson hesitated, then signed his next string of words super-fast, as if shoving out his idea before he started to regret it. You know, if you ever want to talk to someone, but not one of us, like, someone more serious about things that are...difficult, then I can give you my therapist’s number.

Marvin looked vaguely surprised. “Wait, you go to an actual talking therapist? Like for issues and stuff? I thought when you mentioned therapy it was, like, speech therapy.”

I tried speech therapy, it’s never worked, JJ said dryly. And at this point I don’t think it will. But I’m fine, not willing to try any sort of operation to fix the damage.

“Hey, I didn’t say anything. Wasn’t even thinking it,” Marvin assured him.

Some people do, JJ signed, a bit bitterly. But yes, an “actual” therapist. I suggested it to Chase, too.

“Oh, that’s good. He could use that.” Marvin fell silent. “I-I don’t know. I’ll think about it.” He wasn’t sure he would go through with it. He wasn’t sure how to explain to anyone about...all of this. Especially a therapist. He wasn’t sure he could trust them to not call the police.

JJ smiled. That’s enough. Now, are you ready to actually have me help you unpack?

“Oh shit I completely forgot about that,” Marvin said, sitting up straight.

Maybe I could come back after you’re done with lunch, JJ suggested.

“No, you’re here, let’s do it now.” Marvin hadn’t forgotten about the lunch, at least. Though he did realize his pasta was getting cold. He pulled the bowl towards him. “We can eat together first. I made too much spaghetti, there’s still some in the kitchen.”

Oh. Thank you.

“No problem. Let’s both go there, I don’t trust the cats to leave us alone anymore.” Marvin shot a look at the two cats, Ragamuffin sitting, satisfied, in the armchair while Luna zoomed around the floor.

Good idea. JJ stood up. He paused. I’m not sure if I’ve said this yet, but...it truly is good to see you again.

Marvin smiled; he hoped it wasn’t strained. He looped the locket’s chain around his neck, the gold heart settling against his blue shirt. Thanks, he signed. Good to be back.

——————

Chase had something to do. Something he’d been neglecting for...god, it must’ve been three months now. The thought made guilt curdle in his stomach. It’s been far too long. A lot had happened, but that wasn’t an excuse.

It was another hospital. Not like the one Schneep was in, more of what you would usually expect when you heard the word “hospital.” Still, the check-in procedure was basically the same. Though this one didn’t have a visitors’ room. You were allowed to see the patients in their rooms here.

Even though it had been a while, Chase still remembered what room number it was—309—and what section it was in—ICU. He pushed open the door, and saw nothing had changed in the months since he’d been there. He walked inside, taking a seat in the one chair in the room, next to the bed. He took a deep breath. “Hi, Jack.”

As usual, there was no response except for the beeping from the heart monitor. Jack looked pretty much exactly the same. Eyes closed, oxygen mask strapped to his face. Chase couldn’t remember what was actually wrong with him, just that the doctors said Jack would either come out of it in time, or not at all.

“I know it’s been a while. Things have been...kind of tough lately,” Chase said slowly. “Um, they found Schneep. I-I don’t know how you’d feel about that, given...you know...” He waved vaguely at the bed. “Him and this whole situation. I-I still don’t think he meant to. I think he might’ve just been a bit...confused. You know how he gets. Maybe he was off his meds that day. Anyway, he’s in Silver Hills now. You know that place. I think it’s good that he’s there, it could really help. Apparently they also think he killed some people? Which I was surprised to hear, I never would’ve thought...” Chase trailed off. “I-I don’t think it’s his fault, really.”

He paused there for a moment, eyes tracing the line on the heart monitor. Steady. That’s good.

“Also, Marvin’s back. I don’t know where he went, he said he went to live with his grandma for a while. Probably true, but I just know there’s something else. Anyway, I’m not gonna ask him too much if he doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t want him to...you know, shut down or anything.”

Another pause. Breathing was steady, too. It always was.

“And Stacy called me, too. I thought she was mad at me, or something, but, uh, turns out she’s not. Which is great. She just was having some work troubles and was kinda stressed, and I guess she was just too busy. But she’s doing okay, now. She quit working at the school, now she’s somewhere else, uh, I don’t remember the name but it apparently pays better. She does something with graphic design, which you know, she’s always wanted to. And Sophie and Nick are great, too. They’ve started this thing called reception this year, which I guess is like preschool for England. I dunno, I’m some dumb American. They sound like they’re doing okay. Everything’s...everything’s doing okay...”

Chase blinked back tears. Why was he crying? He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t...anything, really. He felt kind of...gray. But there was one thing he could feel that wasn’t just...gray. “I miss you,” he choked out. “I...I miss you a lot, Jack. I’m sure a lot of people miss you. I’m still trying to keep your community alive, but...well, I’m not you. It’s not the same thing, watching someone else run it.” He rubbed his eyes. “God, this is stupid. I’m stupid. I was just telling you how everything’s okay. And it should be. It should be. Everything’s getting better, just a little bit. Maybe that’s why the things that aren’t...they just seem worse. I miss you. I miss Jackie. I’m...I’m tired, Jack. I’m always tired, I-I can’t do this.” He didn’t know what ‘this’ was.

Someone knocked on the door to the room.

Chase sat up straight, furiously swiping away tear tracks. He stood up and walked over to the door. He opened it to see Marvin standing there.

“Oh. Hi, you are here,” he said. “I thought, ‘cause the door was closed...are you busy?”

“No, no, come in, it’s fine,” Chase hurried to say. He stepped aside. “Um, is that a new shirt? I didn’t think you liked to wear green.”

Marvin looked down at his T-shirt. “Yeah, it’s new. Not one of my favorites, but whatever.” He walked inside, stopping by the side of the bed. He looked down at Jack with an unreadable expression. “He looks so...small.”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Chase said. Marvin hadn’t been one to visit often before he left. But he supposed his time away changed a lot of things.

Marvin nodded. “Yeah.” He looked up at Chase. “Were you...doing something, or...?”

“No, I-I was just—it’s fine,” Chase stuttered.

“Cause I...I kind of wanted to talk to him.”

“Yeah, of course, I-I’ll wait outside.” Chase hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath.

He really needed to get back into practice with these visits. Maybe then he wouldn’t start crying every time. But...well, maybe a different set of visits had taken up space in his mind.

Waiting outside the hospital room, Chase turned his thoughts to Schneep. He wondered how he was doing.

——————

The answer to Chase’s wondering was “not so good,” as proven by the interaction that took place across town, a little over two hours after Chase ended his visit.

Oliver hadn’t been prepared for anything like this in all his years working this job. He hadn’t been prepared for this entire case. The past few months had been a roller coaster that threw all his expectations out the window. He might’ve been inclined to reexamine those expectations, if he wasn’t too busy at the moment trying to keep peace in...well, in what was starting to look more like an argument than a therapy session.

Which was how most of these sessions were, now that Dr. Newson had taken over for Dr. Laurens. Oliver wasn’t sure what Newson had against Schneep, but there must’ve been something, because this was definitely not normal. In just a few days, Oliver had gone from standing in the corner of the room during these sessions, to standing right by Newson and Schneep in the center, looking back and forth between them so that he didn’t miss anything...potentially dangerous to either of them.

“You are asking too many questions!” Schneep growled. “Why should any of this matter to you?!”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell me how to do my job,” Newson retorted. “You’re not that kind of doctor. In fact, you might not even be that at all.”

Schneep bristled. “Excuse me? You insult me enough, do you have to bring something completely untrue into this?!”

“All I’m saying is that delusions are a common symptom of your condition,” Newson said with a sickly sweet smile. “Maybe you just thought you were—”

“Fick dich und deine Vorfahren! You do not come into here and dismiss years of my work and study like this!”

“I can come in here whenever I want! I’m in charge!”

Schneep burst into laughter. “And you are doing such a wonderful job of it! Do you have nothing better to do than yell at me for an hour?!” His head tilted to the side. His hand shot to his neck, fingers starting to claw at skin. Oliver reacted immediately, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand back. Schneep didn’t even notice. “Because that is really all you are doing!”

“Alright, fine.” Newson took a step back, straightening her jacket. “Let’s do something else, then. We can work on uncovering the inner motivation for you killing thirteen people.”

“I did not k—!”

“Yeah, I know, you think something made you do it,” Newson dismissed. “Well, the fingerprints on the murder weapons would tell a different story. Do you think you needed some sort of control? After all, things hadn’t been going so well in your personal life, with your job and your wife.”

“Shut up about Mina,” Schneep growled. “We were doing fine.”

“Hmm, yet I haven’t seen her in the visitors’ room yet. Or even heard from her.” Newson flashed a smile.

Oliver thought that was a bit too far. “Um, Dr. Newson, do you really think—”

“That is none of your business!” Schneep suddenly screamed.

“Of course it’s my business! How am I supposed to do my job without getting into your life?”

“That is not what you are doing! You are needling me for no reason! Why?! Is this fun for you?! I am tired of being fucked with by people and their sick games!” Schneep’s other hand darted forward, reaching for Newson. Oliver grabbed that one, too.

“Well, that’s the pot calling the kettle—�� Newson suddenly stopped, being interrupted by a beeping noise. She looked down, and grabbed the pager off her belt. She quickly read the message, and sighed. “We’re going to have to cut this short today.”

“Good,” Schneep snarled. “I was about to tear your tongue out.”

“Now, you don’t want to be doing things like that, or you could spend the night in the quiet room again,” Newson said, folding her arms.

Schneep suddenly paled. He pulled his hands out of Oliver’s grasp and backed up, into the bed. He grabbed the pillow and hugged it to his chest, burying his face in it.

Oliver wasn’t sure why Schneep had such a strong reaction to the quiet room. Well, there was the stigma about having a room with padded walls, that was pretty much empty except for a bed. Oliver wasn’t about to pretend that popular culture hadn’t put its mark on that. But for some reason, even mentioning it made Schneep shut down entirely.

“Oliver, follow me,” Newson said. She turned on her heel, leaving the room. Oliver stood there for a moment more, then hurried to catch up.

“What is it, Dr. Newson?” he asked as they walked down the halls.

“What is what? The incident I’ve been paged about, or the reason why I asked you to come with me?”

“Um. Both, I guess.”

Dr. Newson sighed. “Lily just paged to tell me there’s some sort of commotion at the front desk. She’s new there, I guess she’s never had to deal with this before, so she appealed to the highest authority. Anyway, I wanted you to walk with me so we could talk about Henrik’s medication.”

“...alright,” Oliver said, confused. “Well, Dr. Laurens gave him a new one two weeks ago, since the other one apparently wasn’t effective.”

“I know that,” Newson nodded. “But it’s still not up to a full dosage.”

“Well...no,” Oliver admitted. “Laurens wanted to get him off the old one first, then get him used to this new one.”

“Well, I think he should be used to it by now,” Newson said dismissively. “We can up it to full. And we should give him a stronger tranquilizing agent, as well, I don’t think this one’s working too well.”

“...I see,” Oliver said slowly. He had to admit, he wasn’t an expert on this sort of stuff. It was why he was an orderly and not a doctor—well, that and the obvious lack of an actual doctorate. But he knew a bit about the medications, and... “Dr. Newson, aren’t there side effects for the current medication? Isn’t that why he has to get used to it in the first place? Are you—I don’t mean this the wrong way, but, are you sure he’s ready?”

“Of course I am.” Newson nodded once, firmly. Her eyes were burning. “I’m letting you know so you won’t think anything’s out of the ordinary when you pick it up tomorrow.”

“...alright.” Oliver didn’t want to say anything bad; he didn’t want to lose his job, and to be honest, Dr. Newson was a little intimidating. But he wasn’t sure her motives were entirely pure. Still, he kept silent. With Laurens gone, Schneep needed an ally.

“Here we are, the front desk,” Newson said, pushing open the door. Oliver hung back, watching the scene. Lily Travels, a relatively new doctor, was manning the desk, trying to calm down a clearly upset man, who...looked familiar. If it hadn’t been for the long wavy hair held back in a ponytail, Oliver could’ve sworn that he was—

“Hello, is there a problem here?” Newson asked pleasantly.

“I want to see someone,” the man said. “I looked up your hours on your website! But she keeps saying that he’s not available!” The man’s voice was loud and distressed. He kept touching the cup full of pens on top of the desk, playing with it.

“Sir, please put that down,” Dr. Travels said weakly, in the tone of someone who’s been asking the same thing for a while.

The man sharply withdrew his hand. And then immediately took five pens out of the cup and started chewing on the end of one of them. Dr. Travels sighed.

Newson looked the man up and down. Recognition flared in her eyes. “Sir, what’s your name?”

“Marvin. Marvin Maher, I wrote it on the clipboard,” the man said, still chewing on the pen.

“Mr. Maher, put down that pen, or you’ll have to pay for it.” Marvin immediately dropped the pen. “Who are you here to see?”

“His name’s Henrik von Schneeplestein.”

Newson nodded, her suspicions confirmed. “Well, Dr. Travels is right, he’s not available.”

“What?!” Marvin gasped. “Then—then why the fuck does your website say I can visit him now?!”

“Visiting hours for residents on the first floor are only on Fridays,” Newson said calmly.

Marvin paused, pulling at the collar of his blue shirt. “Well, why couldn’t you put that on the website?”

“It is on the website, Mr. Maher.”

“I didn’t see it,” Marvin grumbled. “Maybe your website layout fucking sucks. And how do you know where Schneep’s room is?”

“Well, I am his doctor,” Newson said pointedly. “And even if I wasn’t, we have a database where that information could easily be found.”

“You’re his...?” Marvin paused. “Sorry, what’s your name, again?”

“My name is Dr. Newson.”

“Oh.” Marvin’s face scrunched in confusion. “But I thought Dr. Laurens—no, wait. I remember now, Chase said she...oh, that sucks.” He paused. “Newson? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Is that, like, a common name...?”

“I suppose not,” Newson mused. “But if that’ll be all you wanted...” She gestured towards the front door.

Marvin stared at her. “Um...‘if that’ll be all I wanted’ what?”

A flicker of annoyance temporarily broke Newson’s professional facade. “If that’ll be all, could you please exit now? Dr. Travels has more to do.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” Marvin turned around, took a few steps towards the entrance, then stopped and turned back. “So, are you, like, famous or something?”

The annoyance was replaced by surprise. “I don’t think so.”

“Not even locally?”

“Well, I suppose that depends. Why?”

“I think I read the name Newson somewhere,” Marvin muttered. “Something, like...it had something to do with Christmas, I think.”

For a brief, very brief moment, Newson’s face cracked in two, her expression falling to the ground, replaced by something of loss. She quickly recovered. “I wouldn’t know about that. Now if you’ll please.” She gestured towards the entrance again.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, I guess.” And with that, Marvin left.

Newson straightened her jacket again, and without another word, spun around and walked past Oliver, deeper into the building.

Something was up here, and Oliver had no idea what. He was sure Laurens would’ve known something, but she wasn’t here.

With a sigh, Oliver also backed deeper into the building. He had more to do today.

——————

Her head was pounding. It felt like her brain had solidified into rock, and was being thrown against her temples.

“Hello?”

She felt like a pile of noodles. Limp and weak. All her bones were gone.

“Hey lady. A-are you alive?”

Where was she? The thought passed through her head like it was swimming through fog. The last thing she could remember...the last thing she could remember...

“I mean, you’re breathing. But I...I don’t know how awake you are. Been there for a while.”

 She was at her car and...and there was that man. She thought he was Chase, but...maybe he just looked like him...

Something hit the back of her head.

Laurens opened her eyes, immediately squeezing them shut again. God, her head was pounding. Not because of the thing that hit her, that felt small and light. What was it? She cracked open her eyes again, just enough to see that she was staring at a vaguely gray wall...plaster, but unpainted. She was lying on her side, the floor cold beneath her. She groaned.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Are you okay?”

That voice...it sounded kind of familiar. But from where? Laurens didn’t answer, just groaned again.

“I’m gonna take that as a no. Who are you? How did you get here?”

Laurens squeezed her eyes shut, tears starting to rise as a blinding pain shot through her temple. She moved her arm, but found something yanked her wrist back. So she raised her other one, waving it in the direction the voice was coming from.

“Oh.” The voice was whisper-shouting now. “Should I shut up?”

She gave the voice a thumbs-up.

“Alright. Sorry.”

Laurens wasn’t sure how long it took for the hammer to stop pounding an anvil into her head. It felt like a long time. If she was forced to guess, it was fifteen minutes until it was manageable and she could open her eyes. And it felt like another half an hour before she was able to roll over and face the room at large.

She immediately recognized it as a basement—an unfinished one, with rafters overhead, dangling lightbulbs, and pillars holding up the ceiling. There were random squares of carpet on the concrete floor, but none near where she was lying. There was a door in one wall, and a small, rectangular window high on the opposite wall, with no light coming through it. A short folding table was pressed against another wall, and nearby a boxy television sat on top of a wooden pallet crate. Overall, the room was about the size of an average living room.

“Are you okay now?”

Her eyes rolled towards the voice. There was a man sitting against a support pillar on the other side of the room and—and she immediately realized why his voice was familiar. Slightly higher, and a different accent, but she understood now. The man had shoulder-length brown hair, a beard, and wide blue eyes. He wore a dirty red hoodie. This whole group...they all looked and sounded alike, didn’t they?

“Should I stop talking again?” He asked.

Laurens blinked. “No, you’re good.” Her voice rasped.

“Okay. Alright.” The man visibly relaxed. “Are you, uh...I mean, you’re probably not doing okay, but how do you feel?”

She considered this. “My head hurts,” she finally said. It sounded inadequate.

“Hm. Yeah, I think it would.” The man pursed his lips. “You, uh. Don’t look good.”

“Thanks.” She pressed a hand to her temple. The other one was still caught on something. “Who’re you?”

“My name’s Jackie.”

“Jackie Donovan?” 

His eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”

Laurens tried to sit up. The pain in her head spiked, but she was able to prop her head on her hand. “My name’s Dr. Rya Laurens. I know your friend Schneep.”

“You do?!” Jackie sat up straight, but then hesitated. “Like, do you work with him? Have...you seen him recently?”

“Yes,” Laurens confirmed.

Jackie’s eyes lit up. He leaned forward. “How is he? Is he good? What happened?”

“I’m not sure ‘good’ is the right word for it,” Laurens mumbled. “You’re probably thinking right now that...that I work with Schneep at his hospital, the one where he was a surgeon. I don’t. I work at Silver Hills.”

“Oh.” Jackie leaned back again. He bit his lip, thinking. “That’s the, uh, psych ward, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s a mental hospital, it’s not the same thing,” Laurens said.

Jackie seemed to cringe. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“So, uh...” Jackie shifted where he was sitting. “H-how is he? Are they taking care of him?”

“I mean, I suppose so,” Laurens said. “I’m his therapist. I’m certainly trying to help, but I can’t speak for everyone. And I don’t know what’s happened since I...” She frowned. “What day is it?”

“Um...” Jackie glanced over at a nearby section of wall, one within arm’s length of where he was sitting. Laurens suddenly noticed the marks on the plaster, done in what looked like blue marker. Tally marks, divided into roughly eight groups. “I think it’s the twenty-first? Of August.”

Last she checked it was the fifteenth. “It...it’s been a week,” she realized. “I don’t remember any of it.”

Jackie nodded. “That happens sometimes. Let me guess, it’s all a blur? You sort of remember being, like, aware but not thinking anything?”

“...that...yeah.” Laurens shook her head, then immediately stopped; it was making her headache worse. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

Jackie laughed hysterically. “I mean, your guess is as good as mine! If it’s been a week, he probably wants you alive! Unless he just hasn’t gotten around to it yet! By the way, can I have my Sharpie back?”

Laurens was confused, until she looked around the nearby area and saw a blue Sharpie on the ground. She picked it up and threw it in Jackie’s direction. The throw went wide. By a lot.

“Fuck,” Jackie swore. “Hang on.” He reached out to the Sharpie, leaning forward, but wasn’t quite there. With another muffled curse, Jackie crawled towards it. And it was then when Laurens noticed the cuff around his ankle, connected to the nearby pillar by a very short length of chain. Realizing this, Laurens looked back at her other hand, the one that kept being yanked back. And no wonder. She was handcuffed to a pipe.

“Got it!” Jackie grabbed the Sharpie by his fingertips, retreating back to his spot by the pillar. “Sorry. I just don’t want to lose this.”

“It’s okay,” Laurens said softly. “I get it.”

Jackie pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie. “So...I know you said you haven’t seen Schneep for a while, but how was he the last time you saw him?”

Laurens thought about that. “He was getting better. He’d just gone through a bad episode, though, so not 100% good.”

“He recovering?”

“Yes, as far as I could tell. I got him new medication, but hopefully it would decrease his symptoms.”

“Symptoms?” Jackie frowned. “Oh. Yeah, I guess he has been unmedicated for some time. Best to take care of that, before dealing with everything else.”

Now Laurens frowned. “Wait, everything else?”

“Yeah? I stopped seeing him in—” Jackie glanced at the tally marks again, counting. “—May, and you’re a therapist, so. You know. Everything else.” He waited, but Laurens still looked confused. “Um...you know. Being kidnapped isn’t going to leave someone okay—”

“Wait, he was kidnapped?!” Laurens repeated.

“Yes! Why do you think—look around at this place!” Jackie gestured at the room. “Do you think either of us are here because we want to be?! The hell did you think happened to Schneep?”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t say anything about it, but the police assumed he left of his own—”

“Wait wait wait,” Jackie held up a hand. “So...the police don’t know about him?”

“Of course they know about Schneep. How could they not, after all...” Laurens hesitated. “You know. The things that happened.”

“No, I wasn’t talking about Schneep.” Jackie insisted. “I was talking about...him.”

The way he emphasized the him...it reminded Laurens of the way Schneep would talk. “Do you mean...the thing Schneep’s been hallucinating about?”

Jackie looked shocked. “So. They don’t know, then? Wait, do they think Hen did it all by himself?!”

Laurens looked at Jackie, puzzled. “He...didn’t?”

Jackie buried his face in his hands. He didn’t say anything for a while. “Oh my god,” he finally said, words muffled. They sounded almost like a sob. “You don’t know. No one knows, do they?”

Laurens sat up. She was beginning to figure out that things were a lot more complicated than she thought. But maybe now she could get some answers for everything. “Know what. Who...who is this he?”

Jackie looked up at her. His eyes were red, like he was about to cry. Like he’d realized something. Maybe he realized that, if the police didn’t know what was going on, there wasn’t a good chance of either of them ever being found.

“He calls himself Anti.”