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circle-with-me · 4 months

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‘tis the damn season - part 2

Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (Genevieve/Viv/Vivvy)

Content Warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst, hurt - no comfort, brief mentions of child abuse, panic attacks, mentions of death/dying, brief mentions of violence/threats of violence, Will Ramos is stubborn as hell.

Word Count: 3.3k

Taglist: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @midnight-eternals @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @cookiesupplier @lilrubles @meekahy

If you would like to be added to my tag list for this series or my other work, please click here.

Author’s note: There’s a lot more Will in this part and I promise there will be even more in future parts. Also, this one is probably going to hurt because it hurt me while I wrote it. Soooo…. Sorry 😬 Enjoy 😊

Will’s POV

The snow crunches beneath Will’s feet as he heads towards the cafe. That morning, he woke up with a sore throat and decided he’d grab some hot tea before practice that morning. He couldn’t afford to lose his voice now. Lorna was going on tour next month and they had a lot of kinks to work out with their set.

Leaving the cafe, Will heads in the direction of the warehouse. Traffic in front of the cafe was absurd. He could walk down the opposite way to a slower intersection, cut across and then walk back up. The only problem was that it would take him past the park.

He avoided the park as much as he could

“Man, it’s been eight years. Get over it.” he says out loud to himself.

As he walks past the park, he sees the gazebo. There was a light dusting of snow on the roof and the stairs. Christmas garlands were attached to each railing. Icicle lights were hanging from the top railings and Christmas wreaths were adorning each post.

It looked like something out of a Christmas card.

Will walks up the steps and stands in the middle of the structure. He couldn’t remember the last time he had come here. It looked the same but had a fresh coat of paint. A moment of panic sets in as he sets his tea down and steps onto the railing. Hoisting himself up he stands on his tiptoes to look into the rafters.

The entirety of the area had been painted white. Fuck, where is it? He couldn’t see it. It had been forever but he knew it was on this side. He couldn’t see it. His heart sank. It was gone. He started to lower himself down but something caught his eye off to the side. A faint etching into the wood that he would have missed if he hadn’t turned just so.

“W <3’s V 4eva”

Will let out the breath he was holding; a sharp pain shooting through his chest. It was a pain he hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling struck him so hard it made his knees weak and he had to hold on to the post next to him to keep from falling off the railing.

It should have been a meaningless little thing. He had made that mark when he was a teenager, barely sixteen. Thirteen years later and he can still remember every moment of that day. How she smelled of cinnamon and cherries. The way her dark red hair fell in waves and would get tangled in the buttons of her coat. How red her nose and cheeks got from the cold. Her green eyes sparkling as she looked at the Christmas lights.

God dammit, he hated this time of year.

Will arrives at the warehouse to see Moke and Austin standing outside.

“Get here when you can, brother.” Moke exclaims, grinning.

“Fuck are you talking about, dude? I’m early as always.” Will responds.

“Practice was supposed to start 20 minutes ago, dumbass.” Austin pipes in.

Will checks his phone and he in fact was not early at all. His detour took a little longer than he thought. He looks up sheepishly and both guys burst out laughing.

“Sorry, guys.”

Adam slaps him on the back. “Don’t worry about it, man. Adam and Andrew are inside arguing about guitar stuff.”

“That’s why we’re out here.” Moke adds. “If I had to hear them fight like an old married couple for one more second I was going to shove Archey’s drumsticks in my ears.”

Will laughs loudly as they dramatically act out the guitarists argument.

Initially, he doesn’t see the woman with long dark red hair pass by but he notices her stop suddenly. For a split second he figures that she’s lost but then it hits him. The scent of cinnamon and cherries.

The scent is all-consuming. It fills his nostrils and in a millisecond seven years of memories flash before his eyes. She turns around slowly, making eye contact with him and he’s sure he’s fucking dreaming because it can’t be her.

“Shit.” he hears her say and that’s her voice. How is she here? Why is she here? After all this time..

He calls after her and she doesn’t stop. In fact, she picks up her pace. So, he takes off after her.

“Will! Where the fuck are you going?” Austin yells at his friend as he takes off running but it was no use. Will was on a mission.

Will continues to call after her and she refuses to stop. He feels dizzy, nauseated, and desperate because if he can just get a hand on her. Just touch her so he can know she’s real and he’s not crazy.

“Goddammit, Genevieve, stop!” Finally catching up with her, he grabs her by the arm and spins her around to face him.

They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity. He wonders what’s going through her mind. He can’t seem to gather his thoughts because he’s still trying to grasp onto the fact that she’s actually here in front of him.

Somehow, she was even more beautiful than the last time he saw her.

The last time he saw her.

Will recalls the moment she left and the shooting pain in his chest returns. Anger rushes through him and without thinking, his grip on her arm tightens. Tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes and she shifts uncomfortably. Realization settles in and he lets go, internally chastising himself. It doesn’t matter how long she’s been gone. He knows better.

He glances at her again and even though the tears are still there he can tell she’s not panicking anymore. Her tears are for an entirely different reason. The moment is so overwhelming he can nearly feel his own forming but being the stubborn man that he is, he blinks them away. Will is not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking she still has that much of an effect on him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” she states matter-of-factly.

Will laughs humorlessly. “Seriously? After all these years, that’s all I get?”

Gen narrows her eyes and folds her arms across her chest.

“Right, because ‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ is so much better?”

“I think I have every right to be frustrated, Viv.”

“Don’t call me that.” she says firmly.

Will raises his eyebrows. “And what exactly am I supposed to call you?”

“If it’s all the same to you, Will, I’d prefer it if we just didn’t interact at all. I’m only here because I wasn’t given a choice and I plan to leave as soon as possible.”

A mixture of anger and desperation rises in him again. He wasn’t expecting her to jump into his arms but he didn’t think she’d blow him off like this. He needed something. More than this. He didn’t know how she could just pretend like this moment meant nothing to her when it meant everything to him.

Would he actually admit to that, though? Of course not.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Always in such a hurry to leave. Of course, I'm not surprised. It’s your favorite thing to do.”

This time, Gen laughs, but it’s the coldest laugh Will has ever heard. She steps closer to him and their faces are so close they are almost touching. Her perfume fills his nostrils again and he wishes he could start their conversation over. Tell her he was sorry for everything and kiss her breathless but it was too late. He ruined everything, once again.

All because of his goddamn pride.

“As much as I would love to stand here all day and rehash old wounds, Ramos, I have better things to do. Like bury my piece of shit father, for starters.”

Will doesn’t even get a chance to speak before she’s walking away from him. She never looks back at him for a moment but he watches her until her figure disappears.

Gen’s POV

Gen walks until the tears falling down her face begin to burn and her lungs start to hurt from the cold air. She was two blocks from the lawyer’s office but she couldn’t move anymore. She stops and sits on a bench in front of a random store in an attempt to collect herself.

She scrubs her shaking hands over her face and tries to control her breathing. She’s barely been back home for a few hours and she already ran into him. She hated being from such a small town.

“Always in such a hurry to leave… it’s your favorite thing to do.”

Will’s voice echoes on repeat in her mind until her head begins to pound. He knows damn well why I left. Gen thinks to herself. Who the fuck is he to throw that in my face?

Through the years she must have rehearsed their first conversation upon reuniting a hundred times. It was never something she expected to actually happen, but she was always preparing for shit like that. She knew it would be overwhelming and emotional but when she imagined it, she always handled it in a calm and practical manner.

Clearly, it’s much different when the person who broke your heart is standing right in front of you. It didn’t stop her from regretting the way she reacted. The way he grabbed her and the emotional whiplash from their sudden reunion had her adrenaline pumping. Agitation and being defensive were her go-to responses.

Gen knew that he didn’t intend to grab her like that. He knew better. It was embarrassing that it still affected her the way that it did.

Gen sighs shakily and checks her phone. She had five minutes to be at Mr. Shaw’s office. Her pity party would have to wait until later.

“Ms. Castillo, I’m Nathan Shaw. Thank you so much for coming in on such short notice.” The man extends his hand to Gen and she accepts it. He was younger than she expected, late thirties at the oldest. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back and his eyes were a piercing blue. When he flashes a smile at her, she concludes that feature alone wins a lot of his cases.

“It’s Taylor, actually. I told your secretary that on the phone yesterday. Anna, I believe?”

He glances down at the paper. “Oh, yes! She’s written it right here. My apologies, Ms. Taylor. Or is it Mrs?”

Gen has to bite back a laugh. “No, sir. It’s definitely still Ms.” She holds up her left hand to show him her bare ring finger.

Mr. Shaw smiles softly. “Very good, Ms. Taylor.”

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “If you don’t mind. How did you find me? My father and I haven’t spoken in years.”

“He had your phone number and address listed for us to call in the event of his death.”

Gen pauses for a moment, unsure how she feels that he actually had her address this whole time. “It’s just that… I changed my name and my contact information years ago, so that he couldn’t find me. I just don’t understand how he even had that information to give to you.”

Mr. Shaw looks at her over his glasses, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He flips back to the front page of the packet in front of him and turns it around to where Gen can look at it. She scoots up to the end of her chair to get a better look as he points to a particular paragraph.

I, Gabriel Fernando Castillo, am a widower. I was married to Margaret Anaïs Taylor Castillo on September 13, 1993, who died on August 9, 2007. We had one child, Genevieve Gabriela Castillo, who was born on August 11, 1994.

Genevieve Gabriela Castillo. Her eyes read the one line over and over again. God, she despises that name.

“What are you showing me this for, Mr. Shaw?” she asks, pointedly.

An amused look spreads across his face. “Ms. Taylor, with all due respect, if you wanted to change your name so your father couldn’t find you.” He pauses for a moment, considering his next statement carefully. “Your mother’s maiden name maybe wasn’t the best choice.”

Three hours, one panic attack, and a lot of kleenex later, Gen’s appointment with Nathan Shaw was finished.

Gabriel left her everything. His house. His car. An oddly large sum of money that was left in his bank accounts that she didn’t dare question its origin. Before she changed her name and number for good, he had called her relentlessly asking for money. No doubt having drunk it all up.

According to Mr. Shaw, that was what killed him. His liver failed and he chose to waste away at home instead of in the hospital waiting for an organ transplant. Mr. Shaw warned her that the house wasn’t in the best shape since he spent the last several months bedridden and would rarely let anyone in. He assured her, however, that “the mess” from his death had been cleaned up so she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

Oh, right. If it wasn’t enough for her to inherit her childhood home that held enough traumatic memories for a lifetime, it’s now potentially haunted by the ghost of her father? Nope. Nothing to worry about at all. She didn’t even believe in ghosts, but if anyone would come back to haunt her, that fucker would.

Considering her options, she decided to sell the house and the car. They were of no use to her. The money in Gabriel’s accounts would go towards whatever repairs were needed to make the house sellable and the rest she’d donate to charity.

Gen didn’t need him or his money. Dead or not she sure as hell wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking she did.

So, now, it would appear that her whirlwind trip home would be much longer than anticipated. The realization of which caused her panic attack. Mr. Shaw’s sweet secretary, Anna, came rushing in his office with kleenex and water to help. Once she calmed down, Gen told Anna whatever Mr. Shaw was paying her wasn’t enough. Anna just smiled sweetly and headed back to her desk.

Another hour and a half later, the funeral arrangements had been made. The visitation would be Sunday at noon with the funeral immediately afterwards. A four hour affair where Gen would have to smile and pretend to care as people she hadn’t seen in years told her how wonderful her father was and how they can’t believe she’s been gone so long.

She felt nauseous already.

She took a deep breath, cracking her neck and massaging her jaw in an attempt to ease the tension from the day. She was in desperate need of food and a shower. She decided to head to her hotel, order takeout, and call it a night. She couldn’t bring herself to go to Gabriel’s house tonight. She would go tomorrow when she was rested and her head was clear.

As Gen laid in bed, she reflected on her day. Now that it was over, it all felt like a fever dream. She thought of Will’s face. The way it shifted from frustration to guilt when she told him why she was there. She had called him Ramos. She only called him that when she was mad and he hated it. She knew that, though, and said it on purpose.

She did it for the exact same reason he took a jab at her for leaving. There’s an ache in her. An ache caused by all the years of pain from her mother dying, her father drinking to cope with the loss and the abuse that followed afterwards. Will became her escape. He was always there to protect and comfort her.

One night, Will nearly beat her father unconscious after he had broken Gen’s ribs again for not cleaning the dishes the way he liked them. He was only seventeen at the time. Gabriel was an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to put himself at risk of an investigation, so he didn’t say anything. After that night, the physical abuse stopped but the psychological abuse became worse. Will promised Gen that as soon as she turned eighteen, he was moving her in with him.

The day of her eighteenth birthday, Will moved her into his apartment. He had saved for months and managed to get one just a few weeks before her birthday. It was small and they barely had any furniture, but she didn’t care. Gabriel tracked her down and tried causing a scene but Will told him if he came near her or touched her again he’d make sure he didn’t wake up that time.

Gen was finally able to heal. She felt safe and secure at home for the first time in five years. They were both working and making enough to pay their bills with a little extra. She started college. For once, everything was going well.

The only problem was that she hated Westwood. It was too small for her and despite the memories she made with Will, it was filled with too many bad ones. She wanted out. She had a degree and had developed a strong skill set in music as an audio technician at the small recording studio she worked at and wanted to pursue a career as a recording engineer.

The owner of the studio had connections all over the country and was able to get her a job in New York. Gen was ecstatic and ran home to Will to tell him the good news. He had been supportive of her dream and told her he’d go anywhere for her.

However, when she told him it was finally happening, his face dropped. A silence fell between them that she had never experienced in all of the years they had been together. He stood from his seat on the couch, looked at her firmly, and told her no.

No? What did he mean “no”?

He meant no. She wasn’t going. He wasn’t going. They weren’t going.

Will’s reason was that she could do the same job in New Jersey that she could in New York. She argued that, while true, New York would give her a lot more opportunities to work with different artists and producers. Not to mention a lot more money.

He continued to refuse. Telling Gen it was a waste of time and attempting to educate her on how expensive New York is but it just came out as condescending. She explained how much extra she would be making and it may be hard at first but it would be worth it in the end.

When that didn’t work, he tried to explain that he had finally become comfortable with his band and didn’t want to mess that up by leaving. He also mentioned his family was in Westwood and they couldn’t just abandon them. She called him selfish and pointed out that New York was less than two hours by train. Not across the fucking country.

Gen was distraught and confused. Where was this coming from? This was not the Will she had known for so long. He had never tried to hold her back or tell her she couldn’t do anything. If she didn’t know any better, he almost seemed desperate to keep her in Westwood with him. But why?

After hours of arguing, he became silent again. He stood in front of the glass door that led out to their patio and just stared into the darkness. After what seemed like forever, he raked his hand through his curls and exhaled harshly like he had to prepare himself for what he was about to say.

“I love you, Vivvy… but you’re not going to make it in New York. You’re good at what you do but they’ll eat you alive up there. You’re not going and that’s final.”

Part Three

#will ramos #lorna shore #will ramos x ofc #will ramos fanfic #will ramos fic #will ramos fanfiction #lorna shore fanfic #lorna shore fic #lorna shore fanfiction #will ramos x reader #tis the damn season #ttds

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venusandsaturnsrings · 1 year

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c-c-childe piss kink?

childe piss kink 4eva n always <3 idk he just gives me piss kink vibes n i can’t help but be down astronomically bad 4 it…

he’s a sadomasochist. anything that brought either of you pain or discomfort had him popping a raging boner within seconds. not only that but he’d do anything if it meant marking and claiming you as his. you’re his lover, bitch, and property.

ajax is biased towards omorashi and pissing inside of you. he loves the overwhelming feeling of controlling your every function and making you his in every sense of the word. on the days this was his strongest desire, he’d often pour drink after drink down your throat ranging from water to sweet liquor; anything that filled you up. he’d coo and praise you for taking it all down so well for him. when you start squirming and complaining he’d wear his signature teasing grin while mocking you for being so needy and disgusting. he loves the tears that well up in your eyes in response to such remarks. ajax knows your body very well and upon getting the sense that you were close to pissing yourself, he’d pull you onto his lap and use one hand to rub your hip while the other pushed down on your bladder. you’d wail and whine over the feeling until you couldn’t take it anymore and soaked through both of your undergarments with little sobs and apologies for being so gross. ajax would chuckle and toss such remarks as, ‘awh, couldn’t hold it even a bit longer?,’ or, ‘my, you’ve made such a mess! those panties you have on are new too.’ anything to make you get all shy and avoid his lustful gaze. not to worry though, he’d be so sweet on you for trying so hard for him. he thinks you’re adorable when you simply can’t handle anymore of what he dishes out.

when he was in the mood to piss inside of you, he’d always be extra rough and mean in the lead up. he’d often call you a whore and a slut or anything else degrading he felt in the mood for. pissing inside of you was certainly intimate and he preferred to hold you close when he would. ajax loves feeling it all spurt out of your well used cunt in the aftermath. <3

#cw: piss #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #chit chats

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violettduchess · 1 year

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Headcanon Masterlist 🖋

Sunbeam (Leonardo)

R & J 4eva (Chevalier)

Grief /Death (New Princes)

Curvy MC (New Princes)

Slow Dance (Leonardo)

Prank on Clavis (New Princes)

Grief /Death (Jin, Luke)

Grief/ Death (Clavis/ Chevalier)

Curvy MC (Chevalier / Nokto / Licht / Jin)

Sleep (Leonardo)

Sensory Descriptions (New Princes)

Curvy MC (Luke / Leon)

Unhappy Curvy MC (Jin, Sariel, Chevalier)

Unhappy Curvy MC (Nokto, Luke, Yves)

Hand-Holding (Napoleon)

Snoring MC (Leonardo, Comte, Theo)

Emotional Reader MC (Theo, Leonardo, Faust)

Bullied MC (Leon / Chevalier)

Three Types of Kisses (Silvio, Keith, & Gilbert)

Comfort after a Nightmare (Comte, Vlad, Arthur, Leonardo)

Nighttime in the Mansion (Leonardo, Mozart, Theodorus, Napoleon, Comte, Arthur)

Chevalier Michel / Intelligent and Strong MC

Favorite Body Part (Chevalier, Clavis, Keith, Gilbert)

Gilbert CG

Holiday Fluff (Arthur, Isaac, Theo, Leonardo)

Five princes and their children (Leon, Luke, Gilbert, Silvio, Chevalier)

A kiss in every season (Clavis / Mozart, Leon / Comte, Gilbert / Vlad, Keith / Leonardo)

Valentine's Day Kisses (Chevalier, Leon, Clavis, Gilbert)

Multilingual MC (Leon, Luke, Chevalier, Clavis)

Vamp Spring Headcanons (Leonardo, Comte, Faust, Vlad, Isaac, Arthur)

Small Child Sneaking into their Bedroom (Leon, Sariel, Jin, Keith, Gilbert)

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen prince #ikepri #organizing my masterlist a bit #violettwrites

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stra-tek · 8 months

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Lower Decks' cheesy museum exhibit Voyager was pretty much as I imagined the Starfleet Museum years ago when I wrote my forever-in-progress I Survived Kirk

There are multiple Fleet museums, one in San Francisco, one around Pluto, another at Memory Alpha, one at Copernicus, one at Andor etc. We walked the San Francisco one. I got to visit Enterprise NX-01, which had been equipped with little plaques everywhere giving backstory to everything from the mess to the warp reactor to what the Captain liked to watch in his quarters. The plaques all had buttons which played various Captain’s Log excerpts. The staff wore period-appropriate Starfleet uniforms (navy blue boiler suits with Enterprise patches on the shoulders), which I questioned the legality of since they’re not Starfleet officers. I was told it was okay because they were period costumes, not actual uniforms.

I’d buddied up with Morgan Bateson. I really liked his sense of humour. And neither of us knew our fathers, although Morgan was pretty convinced he’d meet his in space one day, perhaps as head of some evil empire or other. Oddly specific and statistically impossible, but weirder shit would happen in my time in Starfleet.

We visited the engine nacelle the crew hid in during an ion storm, the mess hall where they ate sandwiches and watched a movie every Friday night. The Captain’s Quarters where Admiral Archer probably masturbated a thousand times, a section of corridor where the chief engineer died in what they called a heroic act of self sacrifice but read more like a suicide, the sickbay where the captain’s dog was treated when it contracted an alien disease (and upon the underside of one of the cabinets, someone had crudely engraved “BR+DS 4EVA” which I doubt was part of the recreation), and the decon chamber.

Oh god, the deacon chamber. Before transporters had biofilters (which screen out potentially harmful stuff and prevent us from bringing back deadly diseases), the crew had to strip down in a room and rub antibacterial lotion (which smelled like a mint julep, there was a sample for us all to sniff) all over themselves and/or each other’s bodies. Sounds nice and wholesome and definitely didn’t fuel my sexual fantasies for the rest of my academy tenure and adult life.

Engineering had the second most little plaques with buttons after the bridge. Most of them were about the warp five engine and how revolutionary and amazing it supposedly was. Of mild interest was a video clip of an old Zefram Cochrane made shortly before his disappearance, where he said what became the Captain’s Oath.

The bridge was spammed with plaques and buttons, which played countless audio clips of the crew doing crew-y stuff. The communications officer speaking Klingon slowly and awkwardly, the helmsman had exactly one soundbyte: “aye, sir” (seriously, couldn’t they get anything better for that guy?) and the Captain saying heroic-sounding things which sounded weird out of context. The captain’s chair was actually missing, being repaired after a member of the public broke it. Instead there was just the mounting pole sticking up in the middle of the room, which we all made obscene comments about sitting on.

The Captain had a tiny ready room just off the bridge, which had a century-old game of water polo playing on loop on a TV, a desk, a stack of music minidisks and not much else besides lots more buttons and soundbytes. There was a single cargo transporter nestled halfway along a corridor. The crew used it to beam themselves to and from alien ships and worlds believing it to be safe, but it really wasn’t and many of them suffered sterility and health issues in later life.

It was a fun little excursion. I didn’t learn much more than I’d already absorbed as a kid growing up, but actually being on the iconic vessel-turned-tourist-trap made it all seem real.

#star trek #my fanfiction #fanfic #I survived Kirk #enterprise #nx-01 #starfleet museum #lower decks

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colorisbyshe · 2 months

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February 2024 Monthly Music Recs

February/Near February Releases:

"Take Me" Cookiee Kawaii. If you've liked any of the soundtracks for Spiderverse, try this song. It's a new direction for CK and she's doing so well.

"Light(N)ing" Stap Sigh Boys. Don't know how to explain this--psychedelic and funky, a bit Daft Punk-y at times, and it's technically J-Rock but is completely English. Vocals are weird and FUN.

"Stick Up" Uniiqu3 & Black Caviar. Kinda has Missy Elliot vibes.

"Glitter" Suzy Sheer. Generic but good electronica. A pleasant filler track for any dance playlist, imo.

"Silence is Loud" & "Crowded Roomz" Nia Archives. Good UK drum and bass. Perfectly calibrated to be both emotionally resonant and just... fuck. These songs fuck.

Picking a song off his mini was hard but going off instinct, I'll highlight "Dangerous" by Ten, member of NCT/WayV/SuperM. The song is just good, it's accesible; it's an alcohol drink that goes down smooth, you know?

Similarly hard is choosing songs off of Club Shy! I LOVE "4eva" and "Thicc" by Shygirl + some great features. This is club music for the girls, for the gays, for anyone who wants to let loose.

While nowhere near as good as "Coloris" from my url, She has come out with a new song "Vector Break", if you like more electronic based video game music, give it a listen but if you don't like it STILL GIVE COLORIS A SHOT.

Dance music is the name of the game this month! "SMSOU" by Eliminate & Frost Children is just great dance music with some light hyperpop sensibilities and whimsy.

"The End of the Contender" Everything Everything. This is the most straightforward alt rock Everything Everything has gone for but it works and still brushes against melancholy in such a compelling way.

"Burn Alive" The Last Dinner Party. Dark with some edge. Maybe Kate Bushy (I don't listen to her, sorry). Kinda Florence-y. God, yeah, it's Florence-y.

"One Night/All Night" Justice & Tame Impala. It's Justice... and Tame Impala. Need I say more?

NGL, this is surprisingly... English? Which is surprising to me. In part because I've listened to this 90s Tai-pop song on repeat every single day. I also got back into Maximum the Hormone thanks to that tumblr post.

#monthly music

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thewritingautisticat · 2 months

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Writing Patterns Tag Game

Thank you @late-to-the-fandom for the tag!

Rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 fics and see if there's a pattern!

I'm going to post some lines from both my novels and my Sonic fanfics!

1. The Flames of Revolution (Days of Resistance prequel novel)

It was midnight when the man came.

2. Random OC oneshot based on Days of Resistance that I don't have a name for yet:

Kidnapping him was their first mistake.

3. Alone (but not forever) (a Sonic the Hedgehog fic)

There had to be something wrong with him.

4. Phoenix (my superhero novel)

It was most likely a trap.

5. (Unnamed Sonic oneshot WIP)

You just gotta play it cool a little longer.

6. Shattered Pasts Repaired into Refracted Futures (a Sonic Prime fanfiction)

It was a beautiful day in Green Hill and Sonic was determined to enjoy every moment of it.

7. Promise You (Won't) Leave Nine Alone (another Sonic Prime fanfic)

Nine stared out at the distant streak of light. Please make it, Sonic. Please.

8. Stealing Hearts and Stealing Kisses (a Knuxouge fanfic)

Rouge flapped her wings harder as Angel Island came into view. Almost there. She was an experienced flier, but it was a long trip up to the floating island.

9. The Sea Curse (yet another Sonic Prime fic)

The fox peered out from his hiding spot behind two crates in the ship's hold. No one had spotted him since he'd stowed on a few days ago. Thank goodness.

10. The Dragon's Jewel (one of the books in my fantasy series, The Lion Academy)

Aracus made out his twin's figure on the road ahead and breathed a sigh of relief.

I seem to have two main types of openings: out-of-context thoughts that are meant to draw you in, or some sort of action.

Gently tagging: @sparkles-rule-4eva @tildeathiwillwrite @themswritinwords @magic-is-something-we-create @luckyy19 @bumblebeescribbles @blind-the-winds if you haven't been tagged or want to play again! No pressure!

#writing #writeblr tag game #writeblr #tag games #writers on tumblr #my writing #days of resistance #the lion academy #phoenix #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #most of the sonic fics can be found on ao3 btw

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bloompompom · 10 months

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bloooooommyyyy <333 i just want to hear about eren. maybe like a lil he gets jealous at the bar?? jean's being a little too flirty? pls indulge me i'm having the worst day ever

ilysm 4eva

hi my bb!! ooo love me a good jealous eren so i am happy to indulge hehe also i hope your day gets better xoxo

content: <1k words (written on my phone so i’m not sure, this is new for me!), female reader described as wearing a skirt, established relationship, jealousy, thigh riding, slight exhibitionism, nsfw 18+ only

“What was that?”

Despite the bass thrumming in your chest, the hustle of the crowd ringing in your ears, the scorn in Eren’s voice was distinct. Enough to make you wince—not with fear, more like a ‘whoopsies!’ because maybe you should thought it over before agreeing to dance with Jean. It was a friendly dance, of course, but your boyfriend didn’t necessarily see it that way. He had a tendency to get jealous, which you had to admit was a tad endearing.

“Oh, c’mon,” you laughed off, resting your hand against Eren’s arm as you brushed by him on your way to your booth in the back of the club. “He asked, and what was I supposed to say?”

Jean was harmless. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone try and step on his friend’s toes by moving in on his girlfriend, even if there were times he wanted to.

Eren was well aware of that fact, too. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that when he finally had you, all to himself, he’d have to learn to live with the stares from envious men—how they always seemed to let their gazes linger for far longer than what Eren would consider polite.

Well, let’s be honest here: to Eren, it would be more polite for them to look elsewhere, but that was besides the point.

“Oh, he asked,” Eren condescended. You gave him an eye roll, one he didn’t catch as he trailed behind you. “Then what could I get you to do if I asked?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you balked.

Even with your laugh at the end, his face didn’t lighten. It wasn’t an inherently malicious expression—perhaps devious was a better descriptor. Sinful, even.

He didn’t answer, instead opting to take a seat at the lonely booth your friends had snagged for the night, all of them now scattered along the dance floor in various states of inebriation.

Eren sat with legs spread, looking at you with a tilted chin. A silent request—no, demand—for you to join him. You played along with a grin, as always, feeling that familiar heat already pooling in your core with every pace toward him.

Before you could take your rightful seat on his lap, he took you by the waist and corrected you with a ‘tch.’

He angled you so that when he tugged you down, he did it with your back turned to him. He held you there, plopped not on his lap but on his thigh, each of your legs on either side of it.

Dressed in such a skimpy skirt, the fabric dug into the flesh of your thighs, deeper as Eren hiked the hem higher. You know, just to get it out of the way for you.

Eren leaned into you, his breath warming the back of your ear but chilling your spine as he said, “If I asked you to get yourself off on my thigh, right here, would you be my good girl and do it for me?”

He punctuated the question by working you over his thigh just once. It was enough to pull a whine from you, a not-so-subtle reminder of who you belonged to, and how much you loved it when he was like this.

While you were quick enough to swallow the needy sound, let the breath hitch in your throat before another broke free, it didn’t matter because Eren already heard it, and he wanted another.

You could sense it just in the way he spoke. That self-satisfied cadence that irked you to no end but somehow made it even hotter—or at least, made your face hotter—when he told you, “Come on now, we don’t have all night. You’re not stopping until you’ve made yourself come.” He bounced you on his leg. “So you better hurry up before Jean comes asking for another dance.”

#thank you for this it was v fun #b.blurbs #i wrote this while making ramen don’t mind the issues #bloom’s buds 🌱

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jakowskis · 25 days

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Day 7 - Do you have any all-time favorite scenes? You can bring up multiple - an objectively good scene, a silly scene that makes you smile, a sad scene that makes you cry, maybe a scene that just sort of stuck with you… your choice!

i have a bunch ok i tried to put em in categories. under the cut bc i think torchwood's entered spin territory by now and i still cant seem to shut up about it. pls help

scenes that rot my brain

when they mutiny against jack in the s1 finale. that whole bit, from gwen with rhys’ body in the autopsy bay to owen shooting jack to when they trigger the emergency protocol and open the rift. ill never get over how it first felt to watch that whole scene for the first time, it drove me insane. it still drives me insane. ive watched it 300 times it's sooo 😩 MY scene. g-d.

well, that’s my scene, and so are all the owen & ianto scenes in s1ep12. those two make me feral. ive gushed about theose scenes before, so ill spare u this time. my otp 4eva. and also owen having a villainous breakdown wahahaha. my fucked up little guy of all time

the scene where owen’s patching gwen up in countrycide drives me nuts. it’s such a clever seduction scene + it’s so intimate. i love it. (i also enjoy the two separate scenes where she chokes him fdhskjfdsf. countrycide tree scene makes me BLUSH and nothing makes me blush fsdkjfdshfkjdshfjkd. i am very very bi <3)

owen begging diane to stay in out of time... don’t touch me. every time i think of that whole scene i wanna cry. i have never seen such sad eyes in my life. (see my tags here for more of my thoughts on this topic fkjsdfhs.) burn pay my fucking hospital bills

that moment between jack and owen at the end of combat... “for a few seconds i felt totally at peace... and then you blunder in. do you always know best, jack? is that what you believe?” “i want you back at work tomorrow.” that scene has always driven me crazy. there’s a few scenes in the show where jack’s monstrous and the others yell at him over it, but that one hits the hardest. owen just seems to actually cut through him in that moment, and it kills me.

the scene at the conference table in s2ep5. i’m not the biggest fan of that ep, i talked abt it more the other day, but that scene drives me bonkers, for a number of reasons… the insight into the characters (owens mommy issues!!! tosh n ianto’s need for purpose!!! gwen loves rhys AND jack!!!), for sure, but especially the way jack’s relationship with all of them is presented. ill talk about it a lot more when i discuss his character, but jack… reminds me of a cult leader, in a lot of ways, and it’s most prominent in that scene especially. the show doesn’t realize it’s framing him like that, and the fandom doesn’t seem to pick up on it either. but i do, and i think it’s fascinating.

gwen drugging rhys in combat. it just kind of blew my mind when i first saw it - there's a moment with every character where i went “oh wtf theyre fucked up. ok im obsessed now” (owen's was ghost machine, ianto's was actually ‘pray they survive’ in meat, jack & tosh never had one for me which is probs why they dont rot my brain quite as much fhdskjf) - that was gwen's. also important to note burn gorman agrees w me bc on the commentary of this ep during this scene he was clapping n laughing n probably kickin his feet HFDKSJFHDSJKFDSK he gets me

all of fragments tbh esp owens portion but specifically ianto crying when he walks away from jack at the end of his segment, and owen crying when he's talking to the doctor + him n jack walking thru the cemetery. aaaa.

(yes those were almost all owen scenes. im the deranged owen guy rmr.)

scenes that make me smile

the very first scene in the hub in the pilot :) it just feels a little bit magical in an industrial, bleak, kitchen-sink sort of way, which is what i love sm abt tw, the way it occasionally strikes that balance. the way stepping into a big base in a sewer manages to still feel magical… that’s special.

in episode 2 when theyre having lunch + in episode 4 when theyre at the bar, when they’re all gathered around and laughing. ohh i wish we got more of that

every time gwen n owen are dumbass giggling besties, or teasing each other… twice in s2ep10, and in ep 7, and then when theyre fooling around at the beginning of s2ep2. i love themmmm those two are my idiots they make me smile

jack & john’s fight in kkbb heheh

owen n martha gorillaz scene in reset. wahoo! shicka shicka shicka shicka feel good

bernies apt in ghost machine ep :) i just like the way they go through his shit, steal a bunch of it, n then leave, it always makes me giggle. “so call the cops” JACK.

scenes that stuck with me / made an impact

john and his son in out of time. that was rlly rlly emotional.

also jack helping him off himself. g-d that episode was heart wrenching.

“captain my captain” in tkks, suzie on the ground covered in blood… things i think about. “it’s all your fault, jack." ahhhh

in ghost machine, when gwen holds the device and sees herself crying and covered in blood, and afterwards she’s all dazed and she looks at owen and he stares back and he looks dangerous. i loveee that scene. will never get over s1 owen. he’s a ticking time bomb and when he explodes he nearly destroys the world. character of all time to me. i love that he redeems himself in the end but ohhhhh sometimes i think of a world where he becomes a proper antagonist. he rlly walks the precipice

g-d and the scene where he had the knife held to ed morgan, when i first watched it i didn’t know what he was gonna do and it was so tense.

when lisa was first revealed in cyberwoman and mogwai played…. transcendent. the outfit was silly right off the bat but the vibe + reveal was cool enough i was rlly excited. i love the concepts in that episode i wish they took it more seriously. no metal bikini + no pteradacyl fight and we could’ve had it all. but also. would it be torchwood without metal bikini + pteradacyl fight.

“it made me happy” scene in countrycide. a lot of people seem to find that ep upsetting, i wasn’t really affected by the subject matter, but That got me. chilling. you go into torchwood expecting evil aliens, so the episodes about evil humans really hit.

the resurrection scene in s2ep7. i’m getting tired so im not gonna babble as much but agh. i wanna eventually do an analysis on owen & jack’s dynamic - i’ll talk about it there.

also, it’s a little moment but in the same episode, when gwen calls rhys crying… it reminds me of that bit in succession, during connor’s wedding, when tom calls greg, which is one of my favorite moments in that episode too. taking the time in the middle of a tragedy to step aside and privately call a loved one for support, bc u need a minute to break down when uve been doing ur best to stay strong. i think torchwood is bad at handling grief and letting their characters experience it, so it’s a nice little moment that actually lets her grieve. that, and the glove clearly triggers her, so she got double whammied with the death of a friend + the reminder of the time she nearly died. again, in a show that doesn’t typically frame moments of weakness and pain very sympathetically, it’s refreshing.

idk why, but in ep7, when it goes back and forth between owen figuring out the murders + tosh crying to mary while she looks unsympathetically down at her… it’s just a well-filmed, cool scene, and i enjoy it. thrills me, heh. also owen adhd icon

aditd... maggie’s wedding… we’d been married less than an hour. scenes that got me. i think of maggie a lot. i think of that scene a lot. i think ‘the woman on the roof’ is my most listened to torchwood ost track, fff. it’s very special to me. that song reminds me of a thomas newman score.

tosh n owen’s deaths. of course. both of owens deaths actually, the second one is more impactful but the way nobody held him when he first died bc they were all in shock haunts me ;-;

#tdot #txt #I AM TRYING SO HARD TO NOT DO THESE SO LATE BUT. ARHGHGHHGHGH #me when i give myself a fun lil fandom challenge n it tURNS OUT TO BE CHALLENGING #ARGH!!!#but. here. take it

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angelicgentleman · 1 month

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💖💖💖 { have at it }

💖 @wildxunchartedwaters has been my longest mutual (from and on the previous blog) and every day I'm grateful for meeting him. We've been friends pretty much since we started talking (now that I look at the dates, it's almost an anniversary). We might not roleplay as much as we used to, but I don't mind at all, because I appreciate our friendship all the same. He is the person I have the most in common with, starting with interests and opinions, as well as hobbies and fandoms. Luka was able to carry me through likely the roughest patch in my life and I'm insanely grateful for it. Writing with Luka is always fun. Likely my favourite Damien, Gregory, and Mole out there, but then again, they're very dear to me. Luka is very talented in terms of writing and art, and I always admired both, the same way I admire his creativity. Best friend, Brad Pitt 4eva.

💖 @troublcmakcrs this bitch stole my heart the second we actually started talking. I'd both die for him and kill him if he doesn't end me first (likely). It's about time he stuck some iron in his mouth. ANYWAY. Teddy is pretty much keeping me alive in terms of writing since he is the only person who didn't vaporize when a new fandom wave came in. Love that we can be extremely weird together, because what kind of friend judges you on saying smash to Smasher? He pretty much owns my drafts and inbox and I'm pretty sure that's the person I have the most threads with (which btw, the more threads the better). Writing with Teddy is a lot of fun, both in terms of rp and ooc. Finally, a person I can throw a 700-word reply at without being afraid to suffocate him with it. I just love the way he writes and his unusual take on characters. Writing together was a pleasure from the start and I hope that continues. Also kys.

💖@nebula-drcams pretty much the first person I met after returning to tumblr roleplay last year. It took me a while to warm up because I'm a straight-up coward, but writing with Star was fun right from the start. Love all our threads so far, especially the way she writes Damien. Star puts a lot of love into her characters, whether oc or canon and that's always something I'm going to admire. I also adore her art, it's very nice.

#ooc #//sorry for the mess im absolutely not emotional about my friends #//need more hearts

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belbeten · 2 months

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Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better

Thanks so much for the tag @strangegeology :) I love tag games!

3 Ships You Like: Arthur/Eames, Thorin/Bilbo, Rooster/Hangman. (and a million others, I’m such a multishipper!)

First Ship Ever: Kili/Tauriel from the Hobbit movies was the first ship that led me to AO3 (my beloved).

Last Song You Heard: of my own volition: Return of the Grievous Angel – Gram Parsons. Otherwise: probably something from Kidz Bop.

Favorite Childhood Book: The Hobbit, and The BFG

Currently Reading: fanfic all day every day 4eva!

Currently Watching: There’s an old Simpsons episode on in the background right now. Other than that, I just finished Only Murders in the Building last week, and just started the first episode of Reservation Dogs earlier tonight.

Currently Consuming: Nothing. But I had lasagna and salad for dinner, which was delish.

Currently Craving: Hostess cupcakes

Tagging (no pressure at all!): @lolahardy @castles-in-the-eyre @boisinberryjamarama @thr3eguess3s and anybody else who would like to!

#tagged #tag meme #ask meme #strangegeology

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whumpcereal · 2 years

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behavior modification, part eight

<previous, masterlist here!

taglist: @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @aut0psy-s, @reflected-pain, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

content warnings for: CSA mention (very veiled, but still), adult language, creepy/intimate whumper, cages, restraints, muzzles, discussions of past abuse, and implied future noncon

This isn't the whumpiest chapter (although there's a good bit at the end), but all you Jack + Joe 4EVA people will like it.

part eight, past, present, & future

“Jackie?”

Jack doesn’t answer. He feels like someone’s taken a spoon and scooped out his guts. He’s empty. Hollow. Because he’s dumped it all on Joe.

He shouldn’t have said anything. It was a bad idea. Joe won’t understand. How could he? Jack squeezes his eyes shut. What Bill did to him–what Jack let other people do after–

He doesn’t want to see the way that Joe looks at him now that he knows.

Joe takes a shaky breath. “Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with that, I mean.”

Jesus Christ. Joe isn’t supposed to thank him. Not for this.

Joe reaches for him, and Jack can’t help but flinch away. He doesn’t mean to. It’s only that things are blurry just now. It’s hard to know the difference between now and then.

Joe pulls away. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I won’t touch you. Not if you don’t want me to.”

It makes Jack feel worse. Because he does want Joe to touch him, but he doesn’t know how to ask. No one’s ever let him ask. He draws his knees to his chest and hides his face. He knows he’s behaving like a child, that Joe is probably losing patience, but he can’t help it. It’s not like Joe is going to stay with him now anyway.

“It isn’t fair to you,” Jack whispers.

He feels Joe’s hand move toward him again, but it never makes contact. Joe’s weight shifts beside him.

He’s going to leave. Jack knows it.

But he doesn’t. “What’s not fair, baby?” Joe asks, his voice soft and careful.

“You should be able to touch me!”

Joe pushes a slow breath from his nose. “Not when you don’t want me to, Jackie. No one gets to touch you unless you say so.”

Jack laughs. That isn’t true. It’s never been true.

“That’s bullshit,” he says. “What kind of relationship is that?”

“The kind that’s based on mutual respect,” Joe counters, and he doesn’t sound angry. Just sad.

Jack rubs his forehead against the knees of his jeans. “Doesn’t it make you mad? That I can’t–that I’m–”

“Do you want it to make me mad, Jackie?” Joe asks softly.

“What?”

Jack can’t look up, but there’s a funny kind of ache wrapping around his ribs. He doesn’t know how to do this, how to let Joe scale the walls he’s spent years building up. And he doesn’t know why Joe wants to.

It’s supposed to be better. Jack’s done what he’s supposed to. He sees Dr. Breyer every week. He practices mindfulness. He writes in a fucking journal every day. He has “tools” now. He knows that he’s supposed to ask himself if what he’s feeling is reasonable or unreasonable–and this is unreasonable. It is.

But, the thing is, it isn’t. It isn’t unreasonable for Jack to wonder why Joe would even bother. Not when no one’s ever bothered before.

“Would it be easier for you if I were mad?” Joe asks again, and Jack can feel Joe’s eyes on the crown of his head. “If I gave you a reason to disengage?”

Jack loops his arms around the backs of his thighs. Yes. Yes, it would be easier. But– “I don’t want to. Disengage, I mean.” Jack’s voice is a whisper.

“I know you don’t,” Joe says. He turns, and his knees are a hairsbreadth from Jack’s. “And I don’t want to either.”

“Even though I’m–”

Jack swallows the words, but they do not disappear. Dirty. Used up. A whore. Unreasonable or not, he can’t shake the feeling that it’s true.

“What are you, Jack?”

Jack grinds his face into the denim. “I don’t know.” But he does. And so does Joe, now.

“You know what does make me mad?” Joe says softly. Jack doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t think Joe expects him to. “It makes me mad that anyone could treat you that way. That people would even think to do things like that to a child, or to anyone. That you’re sitting next to me and thinking that I’m going to judge you for it, and that it’s your fault. Because that’s what they told you. That’s how they made you feel.”

Jack can hear the rough edge of tears in Joe’s voice.

“Jackie?”

Jack peeks away from his knees.

“It wasn’t your fault, baby,” Joe says. “None of it.”

That’s what Dr. Breyer says too. And Jack tries to believe her. Sometimes, he does. He wants to.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Joe says, and even though his voice is soft, it slams into Jack’s chest.

No one’s ever apologized to him before.

Jack tries to take a deep breath, but it stutters against his ribs. He rocks back and forth on the edge of the bed, the way he used to when he would shut himself up in the closet, after Bill.

“I–I know it’s not my fault.”

Because he’s supposed to know that at this point. And maybe, somewhere he does. He wouldn’t be so angry if he thought any of it had been fair.

“No, it isn’t,” Joe reassures him.

“–but I can’t help–I just–I still don’t understand why. Five years of fucking therapy, and I still–I just–”

Jack breaks off, and he crumples to his side. He still keeps his knees in close; it’s the only way he knows how to protect himself–or, at least, to pretend that he can. But he can smell Joe on the pillow, and he turns his face, breathing in the scent: ginger, basil, sandalwood. He wants to ask Joe to hold him, but he can’t.

And then, Joe lies down behind him.

There’s still a gap between their bodies; Joe doesn’t close the space. But Jack can feel him anyway. Jack can feel Joe’s warmth, and he wants to wrap himself in it.

A breath.

“Jackie. Can I touch you?”

Jack nods, but he doesn’t make a sound.

“Jack?”

“Yes. Please.”

Joe’s touch is so ginger, so careful that, for a moment, Jack isn’t sure he can even feel it. But Joe’s hands are warm and soft, and they wrap gently around Jack’s waist from behind. Jack lets his knees go, and he wraps his arms around himself until his hands find Joe’s forearms.

Jack is shaking.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Jack whispers. He presses back against Joe’s chest, and Joe holds him closer.

Joe’s lips press a whisper-soft kiss to the back of Jack’s neck, and Jack shivers. No one’s ever touched him so gently. It makes Jack want to cry, but he doesn’t understand why. It’s wonderful. Joe’s wonderful.

“Is that okay?” Joe asks.

“Yes.”

Joe’s chin slides over his shoulder, and he nuzzles close to Jack’s cheek. “If it isn’t–”

“It is.” Never let me go, Jack thinks. Please. But he can’t say it out loud.

“Okay. Okay, good.” Joe squeezes him, and it feels safe. “I’ll never make you feel that way, Jackie. Never, never. You are more important than what your body has to offer. I promise you. You are more than what’s happened to you.”

Jack closes his eyes, and he tries to believe. If Joe believes, maybe he can too.

---

“So, the last time you had contact with him was two days ago?”

Joe wants to slam his fist into the wall. It’s painted a soft, seafoam green–meant to be soothing. Public institutions love to pervert the psychology of color. Pastel blues, pale yellows, fucking seafoam green. They’re meant to trick you into feeling things you don’t. Joe isn’t about to be soothed. He can’t be.

Joe rubs his eyes. “Yes,” he snaps. “I—I was away, like I told you. We talked that morning–”

What’ll you do tonight, baby?

Are you kidding? The vegetarian has flown the coop. I’m makin’ steak!

And contributing to the death of the planet.

Sure, but you love me.

I really do.

I love you too. Call me tonight?

Soon as I’m done.

“--but I—I had to give an address at the conference. When I tried to call him afterward, there was no answer.”

Call me tonight? Jack had asked him to call. And then–

“And that’s unusual?” asks the detective. Sergeant Julia Wade. She’s young. Not as young as Jack, but still. Joe can’t help but feel like they’ve sent a kid to do a grown-up’s job.

“Yes, Goddamnit! He always answers. We always check in. Always. I promised him.” Joe’s voice breaks.

He did, he promised Jack that he would always be safe; Jack deserves to be safe. And now–now– Joe hunches over his knees and swallows a sob. He must look completely unhinged.

“Okay. Okay, Mr. Prescott—”

“—Dr. Prescott—”

“Dr. Prescott, I can see you’re worried.”

“Of course I’m fucking worried!” Joe feels the heat rising in his cheeks. “He’s missing!”

Sergeant Julia Wade winces sympathetically. “Sir, I understand your concern, but you’ll have to calm down.” Her voice is seafoam green soothing, and it makes Joe want to scream. “We’re going to figure out what’s happened, I just need some help from you.”

She stares at Joe for a moment, and he forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Fine. Yeah. Okay. Fine.”

“Good.” Wade shifts in her chair, licking her fingertip and flipping to the next page on her yellow legal pad. “Now, M-Dr. Prescott, was everything alright between you and Mr. Kenyon before you left for the conference?”

“Yes, of course,” Joe snaps. He understands that he might seem less than credible right now, but Jack is missing, and there’s no way Joe’s nervous system can funnel any energy into anything but absolute panic.

Wade raises an eyebrow. “No disagreements or—”

“No!”

“Okay.” Wade speaks as though she’s trying to calm a spooked animal. She licks her lips and tries to smile at him, but Joe is an expert in expressed emotion; she’s fucking humoring him. “I understand, sir. I do. It’s just that we have to be sure. There’s no reason Mr. Kenyon would maybe have taken the conference as an opportunity to leave without your noticing?”

Like this is Joe’s fault. Like Joe has done something to frighten Jack so bad he’d run away.

It’s Jack who frightens Joe. Maybe Joe’s been worried something like this would happen for a long time. Yes, Jack is doing better. He’s worked hard to accept Joe’s love, to accept himself and everything that happened before. But still. Jack has moments–what if he did take off? But why would he? He wouldn’t. Not right now.

Joe shakes his head. “No! He’s—Jack wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. It’s almost the end of the semester, and he had finals. We were gonna go to the Berkshires when I got back, before he started his new job—”

Joe’s gut is a block of ice.

“Dr. Prescott?”

If I had someone as lovely as your Jack, I’d snap him up right away. Lock him up so no one could get at him. That’s what Peters had said to him.

It’s unreasonable, Joe knows. There’s no reason to think that Ivan Peters has anything to do with this. Peters was at the conference. He wasn’t even here.

And yet–

Joe shakes his head, but the thought doesn’t dislodge. Wade stares at him, waiting for him to go on.

“He—” Joe’s voice breaks, and he clears his throat. “He just got a job. With Dr. Ivan Peters. He was so excited. He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t—”

Joe cracks open then, and whatever he would have said is completely swallowed by a choked wail.

“It’s alright, Dr. Prescott.” Wade is kneeling beside him, her hand ghosting against his shoulder. “It’s alright. We’ll file the report, and we’ll see if we can get a read on his cell phone and credit card activity.”

It takes a minute for Joe to get a hold of himself. He should be embarrassed, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Yeah.” He takes a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay.”

Wade squeezes his shoulder, and this time, she gives him a genuine smile. It’s sad, but at least it’s real.

“We’ll do our best to find him, sir. I promise.”

It isn’t the promise Joe wants. She’s supposed to promise that they will find him, not that they’ll try.

“Why don’t we get a list of folks we can contact? Neighbors, anyone on campus that might have seen him; maybe this Dr. Peters you mentioned?”

Ivan’s name sends another jolt down Joe’s spine, but he forces himself to nod.

“Yeah,” Joe agrees, his voice still wet and shaking. “I–I can do that.”

“Good, Dr. Prescott. That would be really helpful.”

“Yeah,” Joe murmurs.

He stares at the seafoam green wall, and he wonders what Jack can see.

---

I promise you. You are more than what’s happened to you.

“Please,” Jack murmurs. He knows Joe is there. It smells like him, and it’s so warm. Something soft brushes Jack’s skin, and he snuggles into it. “Please, Joe.”

He waits for Joe to slip his arms around him, to fill the space, but there’s nothing. He starts to reach back, but his hands won’t move. In fact, Jack can’t feel his hands at all. And then he remembers.

His wrists are still tethered to the collar that fucking fried him yesterday, and when he thrashes and tugs, it only cinches the leather tighter around his throat. Wire rods dig into his bare hips, and the crate rattles around him. Joe’s hoodie slips away, falling behind him, and he can’t reach it. Not without his hands. But he needs Joe. He can’t–this isn’t–why–

Jack forgets that he’s muzzled until he tries to scream. The metal bit stops his tongue, and his throat aches.

No. No, no, no, no, no! He tries to take a breath, but one breath is swallowed by another and another until he isn’t breathing at all; he’s drowning in his cage.

“Oh, my. Sweet boy, are you scared?”

A light flickers on, and Ivan appears above him, still buttoning his shirt. Jack throws himself against the side of the crate. He can feel Joe’s hoodie beneath him, but it doesn’t help. He knows what Ivan can see. And more importantly, he knows what Ivan can do. What Ivan’s done already.

Yes. Fuck, yes, he’s scared. But still, Jack shakes his head–or at least, he tries; his fettered wrists keep his neck still. The latticed wires of the crate dig into Jack’s back, and God help him, he whines like an animal.

“You need to breathe, Jackie. You’ll only hurt yourself like that.”

No. Not Jackie. Not for you. Jack tries again to wrench his head away, but he can’t. He’s stuck looking at Ivan fucking Peters while he hyperventilates.

Ivan kneels beside the crate. “If you can’t control yourself, I’ll have to sedate you,” he says with a sigh.

Jack flares his nostrils, but still, there’s not enough air. Ivan releases the padlock and opens the door. His hands are on Jack immediately, one knuckled into Jack’s sweaty hair, and the other trailing down his neck. Jack’s chest heaves, but the rest of him is frozen.

It’s too familiar. Maybe he’s never been caged before, not literally, but Jack knows this feeling: Ivan’s the hunter, Jack is his prey, and this is the breath before the shot. And the shot always lands. Jack has the scars to prove it.

Ivan knows it too. He smiles. “And if you’re sedated, that will delay your training. I’d have to find some way to keep myself occupied, wouldn’t I?” He leans his head inside the open door, and his lips are close to Jack’s ear. “And you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. Which I suppose is training in and of itself, isn’t it, sweet boy?”

Ivan’s thumb runs over Jack’s muzzle, pressing against his lips, working the bit into his tongue. Jack squirms, grunting in protest; Ivan only presses harder.

“Is that how you want to start the day?” Ivan asks. “Or would you like to be a good boy?”

Jack can’t answer, of course, but it doesn’t matter. He already feels his breath starting to settle.

He doesn’t want to be a good boy, but it’s all he’s ever known how to be.

He forces himself to his knees, and Ivan helps him out of the cage.

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#behavior modification #tw csa implied #tw future noncon #jack kenyon oc #joe prescott oc #ivan peters oc #have a fluffy flashback #and a depressing window into whatever's going on with joe #and a creepy/intimate whumper who knows how he likes to start the day

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