#'oh it's WEDNESDAY I should POST AN EXCERPT' I say
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#'oh it's WEDNESDAY I should POST AN EXCERPT' I say#I reread the parts of this that have been edited once or twice. I hate them all. they appear to be clunky and/or pretentious and/or#verbose and/or stilted and I do NOT know how to get myself past this#because I cannot rewrite this entire chapter I will ACTUALLY spontaneously combust if I do that#but I genuinely don't know how I'm going to get through this with an end result I can live with posting#honestly I may straight-up just have to PAY someone to be my beta reader because I CANNOT keep doing this by myself I don't have#an accurate enough perception of myself or my work#and this isn't the kind of thing I can just. ask someone to look over.#because of. you know. The Subject Matter.#but I DO want to finish this. I made a pact. I promised my therapist. And also my little audience of like 10 people seems to really#like it and I don't want to leave them hanging because they've been so nice to me ;-;
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âRayla is⊠not my lovebug.â
âOh ho, now?" Nyx leaned obnoxiously close, her eyebrows raising. "Have you told her that?â
âShe told me," Callum said, angry all over again suddenly that... she actually hadn't told him that and yet they weren't- "So Iâm tentatively assuming that she knows.â
âOh ho? So she broke up with you and yet youâre still adventuring together, risking your lives for each other, making love eyes at each other at every opportunity⊠ah, to be young and in love and a garbage fire of collective awkwardness of such radiance as to light up the heavens-â
âYeah!â Ezran agreed, walking up to them. Oh no. Hopefully Nyx would tone down the⊠everything⊠around an 11-year-old, but⊠considering he had been 14 himself when heâd first encountered Nyx, he didnât have high hopes. âItâs gross and theyâre so dumb, and here I am, a doomed onlooker!"
âYou got the family braincell, I see,â Nyx said, winking at Ezran.
Ezran nodded sagely. âMy blessing and my curse, âtis true.â
Really?! Did Ez really have to form an alliance with every new person they met to tag-team roast him?!
Nyx turned away from Ezran, her unwanted attention firmly back on him now. âI still need the full status update on my favorite dysfunctional lovebugs!â Nyx would keep prodding, and Callum didnât want her to prod Rayla- âYou know thereâs another ex-lovebug who could tell me-â Did he just curse that idea into Nyxâs head?! âBut youâre currently the less puke-smelling option, soâŠ"
Nyx really didn't subscribe to the idea of sensitive subjects you should keep your trap shut about.
âWe⊠broke up. Like you said.â One way to say it. But he wasnât giving Nyx any ammunition to use against Rayla. âThen made up. Kind of. Weâre friends, just not⊠lovebugs.â
âFriends with benefits?â
âWhat friends do you have?â Ezran asked, all wide-eyed, vicious innocence. âDo you not consider friendship a benefit?â
âHey!â Nyx looked insulted. âI thought we were allies against yon magus of maladroit you tragically must call brother?â
âMy allegiances are many and inscrutable!â Ez stuck his tongue out at Nyx.
ââAllegiancesâ? âInscrutableâ? Sheesh, kid, how old are you? And what awful, terrible company do you keep?!â
â11. And⊠politicians.â
âOh no, youâre serious?! Oh kid, the depths of my condolences is one of them yawning chasms of endless screaming-â
âOi?!â Villads yelled. âMatey? Rigginâ snagged!â
âI donât hold court with betrayers, anyway,â Nyx said, incredibly hypocritically for someone whoâd stranded them in a desert, and she pushed off the deck and was airborne, heading off towards the center mast.
âWhat is the benefit of being âfriends with benefitsâ?â Ezran asked, looking around to Callum and then Soren, who had just arrived with Hat perched on his head. âThe friendship is pretty obviously a benefit of being friends without having to say it, so I know it isnât that, I just said that because Nyx was being mean.â
âOh, I know!â Soren said, eagerly. âItâs s-â
âSandwiches!â Callum cut him off. âSandwiches, Soren! Remember?â
âRiiiiight!â Soren winked, exaggeratedly. âSandwiches. Got it. Corvus makes the best bread sandwich, extra mayonnaise-â
âPlease, Soren,â Callum choked. âPlease, letâs⊠talk about something else. Anything else. Please.â
âââ
Excerpt from an upcoming chapter of my S4-6 between-canon-episodes fic, Downtimeâs Up (successor to my S1-3 between-canon-scenes fics Downtime in Wartime and Upside Downtime)
Itâs wednesday and I have many wips I want to work on and no time, but I DO also have a lot of stuff written and not posted, so⊠hope you enjoyed some overgrown pigeon time and depraved sandwich innuendos. Once I get past the next 4 chapters of Downtimeâs Up, I have most of the rest of the story written, just⊠itâs been rough going to write anything lately
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WIP Word Game
Rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.
@robthegoodfellow tagged me (sooooo long ago, I'm sorry Rob but I started doing it and instead ended up actually working on the wip and then finished and posted Take a Step That is New, so actually, thank you Rob! and now it's wip wednesday anyway)
My word was SLEEP (I've been switching off between episodes of Four's Company so these are all from those)
S - âSledgehammer,â Robin says, like it means something. Billy stares gormlessly at her while he tries to parse her point. She looks pointedly down around his knees, then back at his face even more pointedly. Billyâs got nothing. âYouâre still holding the sledgehammer,â she says slowly.Â
Oh, so he is.
L - Looking around for a street sign, or a sign from on high that sheâs crazy and should just give up, she instead spots a neon diner sign and decides maybe the map will be easier to read if sheâs not hunched over the steering wheel, and with a hot coffee in her hand.Â
E - Eddie returns, triumphant, with the balled up green flyer held aloft at the same moment Billy re-emerges from the laundry room with a full hamper on his hip. Eddie doesnât bother trying to hide the flyer as they stare each other down.Â
E -Evidently, sometime in the night, Heather somehow migrated sort of onto his back. With her face pressed between his shoulder blades she feels like a lizard on a hot stone, which would probably be nicer if it wasn't late August and muggy enough to make their hair frizz.
P - Panic, deep and familiar, thrums in his guts. Itâs the Max isnât doing what sheâs supposed to be panic, that for about six years meant nothing but a shitstorm for him.
no pressure tags your word is MEAT @rigginsstreet @izzyspussy @shieldofiron @ghostlynimbus @magniloquent-raven @robthegoodfellow (that's right it's been so long that I'm hitting you back đ) đ
#dishy writes#tag game#billy hargrove#heather holloway#chrissy cunningham#(those are the pov characters)
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A Rock in a Weary Place excerpt
I haven't done a WIP Wednesday in forever. It's almost Wednesday so here we go. A Rock in a Weary Place is part two of my Clark-adopts-Billy AU and I am so excited about it. I've finally gotten some good work done on it, but since it's a long one-shot (I don't actually know how long, but I wouldn't be shocked if it exceeds 10k) it'll be a while before its done. So here's an excerpt!!!! Of course any and all of this can change between now and posting the final.
-
Clark felt⊠lost.
For as long as heâd been planning and scheming on how to get Billy Batson off the streets, he hadnât fully realized what taking a kid into his home would fully entail.
Because, for all the talk about how heâd be more like a roommate to Billy⊠he also realized that he couldnât be just a roommate.
He was the adult. He had to beâ the adult. And Billy was the kid. Clark was providing for Billy, and that was that.
Which meant, Clark had to cook food.
A lot.
Heâd never really cooked before, when it was just him. He ordered food, usually. Or just ate something microwavable. Ma would be upset, if she knew that.
But she didnât know, so she couldnât be upset.
If she found out he fed Billy, a âgrowing boy,â primarily greasy take out and cheap microwave dinners⊠Well Clark wasnât sure heâd find a place on Earth safe from her wrath. And since he was Martha Kentâs son, he did know how to cook.
So thatâs what he did.
A lot now.
Breakfast and dinner every day, and lunch on the weekends too. Although there had only been one weekend with Billy, so far. Five days in total.
How did five short days feel like an eternity?
âSmallville,â Lois nearly sang, âYoohoo, hello? Is anyone home?â
Clark looked up from his laptop screen and smiled sheepishly at Lois, where she was leaning over his desk almost between him and his computer. Heâd been zoning out a lot recently. âSorry Lois,â he said, âwhat did you say?â
âWhat is up with you,â she exasperated, sitting back down into her chair, across their back-to-back desks from him, âyouâre soâŠ. distracted lately!â
âOh nothing,â Clark said, as he leaned back in his chair, trying his best to give her his undivided attention, âjust a lot on my mind.â
âSuch asâŠâ she prodded, leaning forward further into his personal space. When Clark didnât reply other than to offer another sheepish smile, she let out an exasperated sigh and said, âOkay fine, Iâve got a new story for us. You wonât believe it, but thereâs competition for Superman.â
âWhat?â Clark asked.
Lois grinned.âYou know that guy from Fawcett? Captain Marvel? Heâs been spotted in Metropolis this week.â
Clark resisted a laugh. He had known that, of course. âReally?â he asked anyway.
âYes, and this morning, youâll never believe it,â Lois said, as she went ahead and fully sat up on his desk, her arms moving all over the place as she spoke, âI was walking from the garage when this kid walked right out into the road without looking, and Captain Marvel swooped in and grabbed him before he got hit by a car. It was incredible! And I got to see Captain Marvel close up.â
âDid you now?â Clark asked with a grin.
âYes, and let me tell you, heâs handsome. Superman has some real competition there.â
Clark⊠wasnât sure how he felt about that.
Billy was just a child. A ten-year-old boy. But Clark couldnât tell Lois that. How would Clark even know that?
He just hoped he never had to have that conversation with Billy, either. Adults shouldnât be looking at him as if he were an adult.
But.
That was a concern, wasnât it? Billy had said so himself. Sometimes he wasnât a kid. Half the time, Billy was an adult. In form, at least.
They definitely would have to have a conversation, wouldnât they?
Clark⊠Clark had no idea how to go about that.
âWe should do some scouting this evening. Listen to the police scanner and see if we can catch Captain Marvel, just like we used to do with Superman, remember?â
He nodded absently. That had always been⊠interesting. Having to come up with excuse after excuse to slip away for a moment, all while Lois was trying her best to see Superman.
No matter how fun that had been, he couldnât do that again. Because. He had to go home and feed Billy.
Also, Billy probably wouldnât go out and about that time, anyway. He usually did his work during the daylight, and stayed in at night. Clark hadnât seen him out at night much at all, not even before he came to live in Metropolis.
âSmallville,â Lois snapped, âClark. Tonight. Scouting. What do you say?â
Clark looked back at her and tried to look regretful as he said, âI canât, Iâm sorry.â
âCanât?â she exclaimed, scowling hard, âWhy not?â
âI have plans,â he said simply.
Because he did. Feed the kid.
âPlans with who,â she demanded, âYou havenât been available all week!â
He spluttered and held his two hands up in surrender. âItâs not like that. Iâm just busy. Besides, has Captain Marvel been seen after dark much anyway?â
Lois narrowed her eyes, but then sat back as she clearly thought it over, then muttered, âHm. I wonder if he gets his strength from the sun or something.â
âHey, maybe,â he said, as he pushed his chair back and stood up. He shut his laptop and slipped it into his bag before he grabbed his coat and said, âIâve got to get going, but Iâll see you tomorrow. We can talk more about this new hero tomorrow.â
He felt mildly bad heâd blown her off three times already. Heâd only had Billy for five days, and three of those days heâs had to blow Lois off.
They used to spend almost all day together, weekends to. Clark already missed thatâŠ
âYeah, yeah,â Lois said, as she slid off his desk and returned to hers, âgo do whatever. Tomorrow weâre scouting for Captain Marvel, Kent, donât forget it.â
#I am basing Clark and Lois both off of the show Lois & Clark#also clark's parents#who are characters in the story#:D#i love that show#wip wednesday
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Jegulus Excerpt
My third Jegulus days celebration post. I know it was yesterday, but is there really such a thing as too much Jegulus? Nope. Another excerpt from Book 3, written from Jamesâ POV. It stands alone from the excerpts I shared for day one and day two and is from Chapter XXI. More budding Starchaser for your entertainment.Â
Showered and changed, the team left the locker room arm in arm. There were still many people milling about the lawn, as it was such a lovely day. And soon the team was scattered among friends who wanted to recap the match. James looked to the lake, where he thought his mates were most likely to be. All three were there, Remus skimming stones while Sirius and Peter lay in the grass. But they hadnât spotted James yet, so he took another sweeping look around the grounds and saw what he was looking for, a shadow shifting near the locker room entrances.Â
He doubled back, if anyone asked heâd say he had left something behind. He hustled back to the locker room, and slipped through the door. And James should have been surprised, but he wasnât to find Regulus standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. He was decked out in Slytherin colors, and the emerald green contrasted wonderfully with his pale complexion and dark hair.Â
Before James could say so much as âheyâ Regulus began speaking very fast, âI know I shouldnât be here. I know you are my brotherâs best friend. I know you hate me and the rest of my house. I just wanted to say Iâve enjoyed watching you fly this season. You are really good James. And you are a team player.âÂ
James could tell Regulus was rambling out of nerves. So James cut him off, âwell I train really hard. You should come fly with me. Not like you need the practice.â
Regulus bit his lip and smiled sheepishly. James had rarely seen Regulus show an emotion that wasnât disdain or aloofness. He had a really nice smile, and it reached all the way to his eyes, just like Siriusâ did. Jamesâ stomach did a little flip and he felt some color creep into his cheeks. Thank goodness his dark skin didnât show blushes as easily, what would Regulus think of him?
âYou had better enjoy the Quidditch Cup while you have it, because next year we are going to be wiping the floor with you.â
âOh really,â James took two steps forward. âI donât know, the Slytherinâs looked pretty tame this year. Maybe you all have lost your touch. And for as little as Iâve seen you training, whoâs to say you are even as good as I remember.â
âIâm excellent,â Regulus replied, eyes narrowing. But James shrugged.Â
âIâll believe it when I see it.â
Regulus pursed his lips, which were slightly less full than Siriusâ.
âFine, Wednesday morning. Iâll come fly with you, as long as -â
âRegulus,â James held up his hand, âIâm taking your secrets to the grave. You can trust me, yeah?â They stared at each other, then James watched a smile creep across Regulusâ face. James smirked back, and to keep the situation from getting any more awkward, he spit into his right hand and held it out to Regulus, who did not hesitate to mimic the gesture. They shook with a squelch.Â
And when neither of them had let go after a solid ten seconds of shaking, James looked at their hands and said, âso, um, we gonna stand here all day orâŠâ
Regulus went crimson, and he dropped Jamesâ hand.Â
âWednesday,â James called after him as Regulus made to leave out the back door of the locker room. Regulus nodded and gave him a small smile. James stood in the empty locker room and then put his hands into his pockets, palm still slick with spit he didnât feel the urge to wipe off.Â
âŠ
You can find more info on this series in my pinned post. Unfortunately, this is from Book 3, which is fully written but doesnât have an announced posting date as of yet. But itâs coming to AO3, I promise! On Sunday I'm announcing the title, POV, and posting date for Book 2 in my Weekly Update.
#marauders#fanfic#james potter#regulus black#harry potter#marauders era#our love is written in the stars#jegulus#starchaser#sunseeker#year three#james POV#james potter loves regulus black#regulus x james
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WIP Wednesday
I dream of someday having the energy to make a bannerđ. I should probably worry more about finishing my WIPs though! Thank you for tagging me this morning @hushed-chorus!
I wrote a little more following the bit of my crucible marriage au posted on Sunday, which I would link to but Iâm on my phone just before work. Anyway, this is the next morning, Simon POV. It needs some cleaning up as I wrote it without doing any editing, but Iâm still having fun so I hope you enjoy! Excerpt and tags under the cut :)
Merlin, I feel rested. Iâve felt rested every morning since coming here. Iâve got to remember to ask Baz about this bed. There must be some charm on it because Iâve never been an easy sleeper.
I should be sore, too, after the beating I took from the river trolls. I know there must have been a bruise on my face when I came home last night. (Home, ha.) I remember feeling my jaw throb as I thumped my way upstairs. Thereâs nothing there now.
Iâm kneeling up on the bed and touching my face in confusion when Baz steps out of the en suite and ruins my life by being dressed only in a towel. âOh,â he says, freezing in place under my slack-jawed stare. âI thought youâd still be asleep.â
Fuck. Itâs weird to think how often Iâve felt his bodyâpressed up against me in the hallway or the bed, or under me in the grass, over me on the couchâheâs so familiar that my hands actually feel warm from the memory when I look at him, and yet itâs new to see him half-naked.
Oh no. Suddenly I remember. âDid I...flop on top of you when I got home last night?â
Baz still looks stunned, like a deer in the headlights, but he nods silently just the same. Christ. âIâm sorry,â I mumble, tugging at my hair. Itâs still so strange that nothing hurts. I always hurt after a mission. âWait. Did you heal me?â
Baz shrugs, lifting the shoulder of the hand thatâs affixed to the edge of the towel around his waist. A drop of water is sliding down his neck so slowly that itâs actually wrecking me. âYou werenât too bad,â he says finally, his voice dry, as though Iâm doing something to him, too. I canât be, though, itâs just me. And Iâm fully dressed anyway, unlike some people I could mention. âMostly you were just filthy, but I spelled you clean as well.â
âOh.â I donât know what to say to that, not really. I wish heâd get dressed. No, I wish heâd just lose the towel and get back in bed. I wish heâd throw himself on top of me like I did to him last night. Maybe without the immediately falling asleep part, though. âThanks. And...Iâm sorry.â
Just like that, whatever unfamiliar discomfort seems to have held him to the floor melts away, and Baz visibly relaxes. âWhat for?â he asks, making for the closet.
âFor collapsing on top of you like a bag of bones,â I say, turning to follow him with my gaze. The closet is beside the bed, so I canât see him once he goes inside. I almost get up to follow him in, but manage to restrain myself. âFor...not taking a shower, at least. For not lying on my own side of the bed.â
Baz pokes his head out of the door, one eyebrow raised. âYou never do, Snow. Nothing new there.â
âHey! Iâve woken up with you all over me a couple of times as well, you know!â
A grin flashes across his face, gone so quick Iâm not sure if Iâve imagined it, but then he winks and disappears inside the closet again. âBe a little less warm and comfortable,â he suggests.
Heâs flirting with me. I donât know why it seems bizarre. Baz must like me in that way, at least a little bit, if all the snogging is anything to go by. I sit on the side of the bed, hands gripping the edge of the mattress between my knees. âSo does that mean Iâm forgiven?â I ask when he emerges in slim dark trousers and yet another silk shirtâtoday itâs a pale pink with grayish green leaves. I try not to smile as he heads straight for me, stopping just shy of nudging up between my legs.
âThereâs nothing to forgive.â I canât get over how gently Baz is looking at me, his eyes caressing my cheek moments before his hand follows suit. âI donât like thinking of you hurt, Snow.â
ââM used to it.â Itâs true enough; I never come back from any of the Mageâs missions without at least a few bumps and bruisesâor worse, dislocations or breaks. One time, a nearly detached thumb.
Baz frowns, the furrow between his brows so distracting that I almost miss him saying, âI donât like that youâre used to it.â
âItâs what Iâm for,â I object, leaning back and shaking his hand away from my face.
âI fucking think not.â Bazâs jaw clenches, his eyes dark as storm clouds now in his pale, angular face. âYou donât belong to the Mage, Simon.â
Itâs him calling me Simon that does it; any time he brings up the Mage Iâm ready to fight, but that takes the wind completely out of my sails. My tail had begun twitching back and forth furiously while we spoke, but now it curls around Bazâs kneeâIâm afraid that since I shook his hand away, heâll leave. I know my voice is barely audible as I look up at him. âWho do I belong to then, Baz?â
âMe!â He grimaces and shakes his head. âI didnât mean that. Yourself, obviously. You donât belong to me; I donât know why I said that, Snow.â
âBecause youâre my husband? Donât we belong to each other now, Baz? At least in some way.â
Baz scowls, but he doesnât try to walk away. Instead, he puts his hands on his hips. âFor a certainty I donât need some fool in green tights treating my husband like a disposable rag. You were in a state when you finally dragged yourself in last night, Snow.â
I sit up, giving him a half smile. âYou said I wasnât that bad,â I remind him, sliding my hands up his waist in a way that I hope is at least a little soothing. âI know I wasnât good for much when I came in.â
Baz throws his hands in the air and makes an exasperated noise. âI donât need you to be good for anything! I need you to be unharmed! I need you to be safe, Simon. Would you like it if our positions were reversed?â
Have a great day everyone! Tagging @palimpsessed @cutestkilla @onepintobean @valeffelees @artsyunderstudy @ionlydrinkhotwater @ebbpettier @confused-bi-queer @aceumbrellaheroes @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @letraspal @aristocratic-otter @bazzybelle @sailorblossoms @whogaveyoupermission @ivelovedhimthroughworse @bookish-bogwitch @ileadacharmedlife @thehoneyedhufflepuff @martsonmars @fatalfangirl @facewithoutheart @larkral @theearlgreymage @fucking-gay-frogs and anyone else whoâd like to share!
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TF&TS Meta: Otis Brunkel's Character Sheet
Since I am posting another chapter later this week, no WIP Wednesday excerpt today! However, I usually throw out a meta post before each chapter to tide people over.
I might post a little late this week! However, the next chapter should be up no later than Saturday evening.
This post discusses how I developed the character sheet for Otis.
See the directory for other meta posts.
Time to go over the worst gremlin in the story: Otis Brunkel. I wonât go into spoiler territory, but this should give an idea of what I decided to do with the Tombtakers. Letâs talk mechanics.
Otis is a profaned soul, so a blood hunter that âtradedâ a part of themself to a patron in exchange for power. (Iâll do a longer meta post on my worldbuilding with the various Orders eventually.) However, we donât know very much about their pact, spells chosen, background, or feats.
Matt mentioned that Otis was able to hide behind Fjord in episode 123 because they were a Lightfoot halfling, which have the Naturally Stealthy ability. In episode 122, Otis spoke in Deep Speech to say grace for the meal in the tower: âOh, great distant voice, come upon this meal and let us destroy and devour of its sustenance.â Deep Speech is generally spoken by aberrations and mindflayers, which are denizens of the Far Realm. Narratively, there wasnât much reason to expect that a lightfoot halfling from Trostenwald (also mentioned in 122) would learn Deep Speech, so I suspect they learned it at the Claret Orders or perhaps as part of the pact with their patron. Since it would tie things together nicely, I opted to go with the Great Old One for Otisâs patron, which decides which spells and bonus effects Otis would get from their subclass.
Remember how Otis mentioned in chapter 1 that theyâd sell a bit of their soul for a haste spell? HmmmâŠ
In episode 123, Otis counterspelled Fjord, so that accounts for at least one of their level three spells. Otis also cast Eldritch Blast repeatedly, so thatâs one warlock cantrip. In episode 121, they also created a camp fire with just a bundle of grassâwhich doesnât match any spell I could find. (Iâm also not sure how Otis found any grass in a frozen tundra anyway.) Create Bonfire is a warlock cantrip, it doesnât require any material components, and causes things to catch fire, but it only lasts up to one minute. So I guess Otis was just repeatedly casting it since Matt didnât describe any fuel that stayed alight. If anyone figures that out, let me know! However, those are the only spells we saw Otis cast overtly.
Itâs possible that Otis took Spider Climb as a level 2 spell, but we didnât see them actually cast it in episode 117 when they walked up the wall to the threshold crest. It could also be Otis also had an item for that, either enchanted boots or a potion. However, the Nein didnât loot such a thing from their corpse in episode 133. The only items we knew Otis had were a magical light crossbow that the Nein took in 133 and some kind of leather armor (which the Nein didnât loot) when Matt described their appearance in 117.
Matt never mentioned enough detail to be certain of Otisâs skill proficiencies, background, or feats. So thatâs what we knew from canon and a few of the decisions I made. With that in mind, hereâs the character sheet I came up with.
I rolled for stats just to see what Iâd get, so I did 4d6 for each and dropped the lowest. I rolled 8, 11, 12, 15, 17, 17, which is a little above average, so I decided to stick with it. Since Otis was a sneaky little shit, I used one of the 17s for Dex, which then got a +2 for being a halfling, then a +1 from an ASI, bringing them to the cap. I felt that was appropriate given that Matt mentioned that Otis âdidnât roll wellâ to attack Yasha in 123, but still got a 27 to hit, so I figured crazy Dex would help that make sense. Int was the spellcasting ability, so it got the other 17 and a +1 from an ASI. Con got the 15, of course, for better survivability. I almost gave Cha the 8, but I figured Otis probably got a tiny boost for intimidation reasons by being so creepy, and they probably werenât strong. Thus, Wis got the 12, Cha got 11 bumped to 12 by being a halfling, and Str got the 8.
Now, hereâs the thing. In 123, when Otis fired a set of Eldritch Blasts at Caduceus, 2 missed at 12 and 13, and Matt mentioned that he rolled a 2 and a 3. So we know Otis has a +10 to spell attack rolls, but this sheet only provides +9. The only way Otis could get to +10 is either getting to level 17 for another +1 from the proficiency bonus or taking another ASI at level 16 for +2 Int. So it depends on which level Otis had been at, and as I explained in a prior post, all we know is that Otis was at least level 13 while the others were at least level 16 (which means Otis was likely at least level 16). We just donât know which it would have been. So you get a bit of a sneak peak that one of those things would have to happen by that point in the story.
Of course, thatâs assuming that Matt had even used super detailed character sheets instead of simplified stat blocks, and that the story even heads in that direction.
I figured Otis would probably make the most sense as a sneaky one, even though Tyffialâs gone the rogue/blood hunter route. While CritRoleStats noted that Otis seemed rogue-like, Matt never mentioned that they got sneak attack damage. However, that doesnât mean Otis couldnât be optimized to fight like a blood hunter version of Nott/Veth. Thus, the weapons, feats, and background all lean into that.
Mystic frenzy allows a weapon attack as a bonus action after casting a cantrip like Eldritch Blast, so that allowed for Otis to use a two-handed crossbow for one shot as a bonus action. Their fighting style also gives them a +2 with the crossbow. I gave them a +1 crossbow for the magic enchantment, though that wasnât confirmed in stream. However, Otis dealt 11 piercing damage in one shot to Yasha, and that would be in range with +5 dex and +1 from the weapon that uses a 1d8. I could have taken the Crossbow Expert feat just so Otis could fire twice with the crossbow, but Matt didnât do that in episode 123 when the Otis attacked Yasha/owl, so I opted to pass on it for consistency.
I also gave Otis +1 armor because all of the Tombtakersâ armor lit up for Calebâs Detect Magic in 117. We donât actually know Otisâs AC because every attack the Nein did on Otis was either when they were Halted (via Command), a 25 to hit, a save roll, or an area of effect. So itâs somewhere below 25. 18 is pretty nice, but it couldnât be too over the top or the Nein would have no chance.
I gave Otis the Tough feat (bonus HP) because theyâre a blood hunter and itâd be reasonable that they would be pretty tough as a Tombtaker, even if their strength sucks. The Eldritch Adept feat was a requirement since they didnât multiclass into warlock; Otis used the Grasp of Hadar pretty much every round they cast an Eldritch Blast. Itâs a very useful ability, as showcased in chapter 1.
Otis should probably have some magic items at this point in their career, and I wanted them to make sense for how sneaky they are. Before I started browsing, I decided one would be an attunement item and the other would be either a consumable or a recharging item. After all, it would have to be something that Otis either looted somewhere and decided to keep, or they bought it and price wasnât really a hassle. With that in mind, I chose the Gloves of Thievery for +5 to sleight of hand and lockpicking, then a Wand of Magic Detection. This fits well with their sticky fingers, and it would help explain how Otis swiped the bag of holding from Fjord. (I could have also taken a background with proficiency in Sleight of Hand, but I preferred this option.)
Also, no biggie, but Otis is fucking loaded. Man, I wonder where all that coin came from. Maybe from 5+ years of working as a mercenary and a few months bodyguarding a member of the Cerberus Assembly who offered the Nein tens upon tens of thousands of gold for the same job. I mean, thatâd make sense for them to keep a fuckton of that pay if they were decently attentive with their coin, especially living in a cheap place like Shadycreek Run. It sure would be weird if they were dirt poor after so many years of such lucrative work, reaching a high level, living a relatively modest lifestyle, and being experienced enough to realize they should demand at least some pay in advance when they go on long-term jobs.
/stares into the camera
Some people enjoy incompetent villains, but I sure donât.
Lastly, Otisâs spells. With the way profane soul spells progress, Otis would have had 3 cantrips, 3 level one spells, 3 level two spells, and 1 level three spell. As mentioned above, Eldritch Blast and Create Bonfire made sense, and I chose Mage Hand for the third because that is gonna piss Nott off. I had nothing to go off for level 1 spells, but I figured Expeditious Retreat would be necessary due to their low walking speed (25ft before level 10). Charm Person and Illusory Script also matched the background I chose and would have been useful for sneaking around solo on the Tombtakersâ behalf. (Whatâs that you say? Monsters donât read and Charm Person only works on humanoids? Donât worry about it.) Detect Thoughts was from Revealed Arcana at level 7. Then Hold Person (That doesnât work oâ Donât worry about it.), Spider Climb, and Invisibility for level two spells, all sensible for sneaking. Lastly, it had to be Counterspell for level three.
Thatâs about it. Wait, I didnât discuss why Otisâs background is Criminal/Blackmailer.
Donât worry about it.
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surprise! i was working really hard to get a little autumn present out for you while it was still autumn lol. this is a low/no smut installment to
âïœĄÂ°â© Domestic Scenes in Space Travel â©Â°ïœĄâ aka The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl
there will be smut-free and 18+ only versions (though tbh the 18+ option is not super-smutty - really just a brief few paragraphs - and the smut-free version will still have references to an implied romantic and/or sexual relationship). really it's like....pure fuckin fluff. this should be posted this wednesday (11/22).
âïœĄÂ°â© Critical Interview Questions for Potential Room & Crewmates â©Â°ïœĄâ(Eleventh Visit)
you take rocket on a fall-themed date. unbeknownst to you, he also has plans: specifically, to introduce you to some potential roommates. pure autumnal domestic fluff. comics-rocket-based but you do not need any comics-knowledge to ride this ride. you don't need to start at the beginning of this series, but it would make it more fun (and allow some references to make more sense). these versions will be side-by-side in the same ao3 work (version 1 will be linked to "chapter 1" and version 2 will be linked to "chapter 2." they are basically identical so there is no need to read both.)
a little excerpt â©Â°ïœĄâ
You end up parked outside a sprawling box of a building with a near-empty gravel car lot. When you step hesitantly out of your little vehicle, you can hear the November breeze lacing through the dark-amber poplars, ruffled and rustling.Â
âWhere are we?â you ask him.
He clicks his tongue at you. âSo many dâast questions, princess. Patience.âÂ
You hear the sound of a little bell, and your eyes bounce to the glass door at the front, swung wide open and propped by the hands and hip of a middle-aged lady with steely-gray hair. âHello! Are you the â oh,â the woman says abruptly, her eyes falling on Rocket. âWe donât take â â
âThis is my friend,â you interrupt before she can say something that puts that exhausted, annihilated look back in Rocketâs eyes. Honestly, youâve spent too much time trying to make sure he never has to feel like he did back on the Staten Island ferry to let this random woman drag him back into it.Â
âIâm the grizmod who set up the dâast appointment,â Rocket adds dryly, like he knows what sheâd been about to say. We donât take wild animals, maybe, or we donât take vermin. Your heart aches a little because you know it will always be the response he gets here, at some point or another, in perpetuity.
november aspirations âžÍïœĄËâ đŒ
â
indicates most-recent updates
wednesday 11/1: florescence â, chapter two year one: sprout â domestic scenes in space travel masterlist (thursday 11/2) â blackmail material masterlist (friday 11/3)
tuesday 11/7: Window Across the Galaxy, Chapter XVIII. wednesday 11/8: take what you need, reminder 1 [NEW series - drabbles, smut-free] thursday 11/9: take what you need, reminder 2 â kinktober 2023 masterlist (thursday 11/9) â let me love your OCs masterlist (friday 11/10)
tuesday 11/14: Window Across the Galaxy, Chapter XIX. â florescenceâ masterlist (wednesday 11/15) â take what you need masterlist (thursday 11/16) â
â anthology (one-shots & drabbles) masterlist (saturday 11/18) â
â window across the galaxy masterlist (saturday 11/18) â
â FULL fanfiction masterlist (sunday 11/19)
â
monday 11/20: take what you need, reminder 4 [take a damn bath, for @hibataao3]
â
wednesday 11/22: Critical Interview Questions for Potential Room & Crewmates (Domestic Scenes in Space Travel, Installment 4)
â
monday 11/27: take what you need, reminder 5 [leave your frickin skin alone, for nonnie] -this is aspirational (it could take a little longer!)
thursday 11/30: Window Across the Galaxy, Chapter XX.
only the bolded titles are new material - all the masterlists will be existing content. just trying to get everything organized. i'm also hoping to get a few nice extras in here for you since i'll have a few days off work!
other things i'm working on ïœĄËâ (behind the cut)
florescence â, chapter three year two: growth
Window Across the Galaxy Chapters XXI and XXII
âË.âđĄŒđ„§đ€Ł windfall, part one
Firearms Over Flowers [a Blackmail Material Interlude]. almost-smut based on the discarded draft for the original part three
thinking about sunshine & practice & cicatrix (wyndham) expansions (from kinktober collection)
thinking about other duties as assigned
#november updates#rocket raccoon x you#sneak peek#sweatshirt girl#domestic scenes in space travel#rocket raccoon fanfiction#adventures of space pilot & sweatshirt girl
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At the Catch Ch. 9 Preview #1
WellâŠI tried to write yâall some smut and it turned into 4k of mostly fluff (but isnât emotional intimacy the ultimate smut?). Chapter 9 is coming along, but a bit slowly.  Second (angst?) preview next week or the week after, and Iâm going to change my posting day to Friday/Saturday rather than Tuesday/Wednesday.  Excerpt below and writing playlist at the end!
 âYou canât always go first.â
âOh, I canât?â
âNo, itâs not allowed.â
âAllowed?â Kara laughed, her eyebrows shooting up, and Lena found herself thoroughly endeared at how Karaâs nose scrunched up, at the whole perfect picture, really. Â
She stepped close to Kara, kept a sliver of space between them. Â âThatâs right. Â Or donât you like listening to me?â
Immediately, Kara teetered towards her, into her, slack in that way Lena loved.  Slack as if all of the tension in Karaâs body, all the stress and soreness that Lena had seen weigh on her after long practices, had sensed preyed on her mind in rare moments of brimming quietâŠall gone; gone as if it could be eased with a brush of Lenaâs hand, with a well-judged whisper.
âIâll take that as a yes.â Â She tangled her fingers with Karaâs, planted a kiss on her neck. Â Smiled at how Kara settled against her. Â At the silent question in the catch of Karaâs breathâwhat next?
âBed.â She turned, hardly had to pull Kara after her, started around the corner to the bedroom. Â Glanced back and treated herself to the view of Kara floating along like a cartoon character who had just smelled a particularly tasty pie.
And it was dumb and adorable and it should have made her laugh, but instead Lena felt her chest constrict. Felt her eyes burn. Â Felt the telltale doubt creep out from the corners of her mind.
Kara certainly made it difficult for her to doubt, difficult to question that the vast sum of Karaâs earnest sweetness, kindness, adoration could actually be directed at her.
But part of her kept asking if she really deserved all of that.
She didnât realize sheâd stopped until Kara bumped into her, set them both off-balance.
That snapped her out of it, fortunately. Brought her back to Kara, to the task at hand.
And even if part of her wasnât so sure she deserved Kara, sheâd never doubted that Kara deserved every patience, every iota of care and affection she could muster.
Newly determined, she marched Kara to the edge of the bed, wasted no time in pressing up against her and kissing her. Â Slow at first, lips parting as they shared a breath, but with gentle, sure acceleration, pulling their joined hands up and resting them against her own chest. Â Letting Kara feel how Lenaâs heart beat for her. Â Wondering if this would be the moment when Kara would guess the depth of her feelings. Â Thinking for the first time that it wouldnât be the worst thing, if Kara knew she loved her.
The thought startled her, her lips stuttering against Karaâs, the rhythm of the kiss lost.
But Kara was quiet, her hand flexing in Lenaâs, no confrontation forthcoming.
Lena pulled back. Â âLay down.â
There was a moment thick with hesitation before Kara did so, and it felt a little odd, how Karaâs hand tightened around hers, how she tentatively drew Lena down onto the bed beside her. How she fidgeted when Lena moved closer. How her eyebrows drew together and she swallowed.
Easy.
She settled on her side next to Kara. Â Didnât touch her apart from their twined fingers. Â Only smiled a little, tried to radiate calm and stillness.
It was satisfying, how Kara stilled too, fidgeting fading. Â How Kara smiled back after a minute.
Lena took it as an invitation to speak. Â âItâs okay if you arenât ready, or if you donât want this. Â We donât have to do anything.â Â She studied Karaâs expression intently. Â Looked for the things Kara wouldnât say.
And Karaâs eyes did drop, unfocus, her brow furrowing. Â Reflecting, checking in with herself. Â Lenaâs chest ached with pride, with hope. Â She turned her eyes loose, let the warm ache in her chest expand as her gaze roved over the lovely lines and curves of Karaâs profile.
Got a little lost in that, in the faint impression of a scar above Karaâs left eyebrow, in her laugh lines, in the way her ponytail pulled her hair taut, opened up her face.
Thought, itâs so weird, loving someone like this.
Not only noticing laugh lines, but staring at them. Â Committing them to memory. Â Imagining how theyâd feel under her hands, against her lips, between her thighs. Reveling in how itâd be after, lingering with Kara in the afterglow.
At that moment, Kara came back to her, met her eyes. Â Smiled at her, laugh lines stretching, deepening, and why, oh why did that alone give her butterflies, chase the thoughts out of her head?
She watched Kara take a deep breath, couldnât have looked away if she tried.
âI know I want this.  And IâŠI think I am ready.â  Karaâs smile faded.  âIâm justâŠworried.â
Lena tried not to pounce on that, but nonetheless felt a surge of relief. Â Theyâd gotten close to this conversation a few times, usually when they were already in the thick of things. Â Kara hadnât been ready to talk about it then, but maybe now would be different.
âWhy are you worried?â she asked, level and easy.
Kara didnât say anything for a long time, only looked down and played with Lenaâs hand, moving their fingers apart only to bring them back together again, stopping to stroke tingly circles in Lenaâs palm with her thumb.
And, as always, it never felt like waiting with Kara, not when this was right where she needed to be.
Kara opened her mouth, and thenâall at onceâthey were having the conversation. Â
âItâŠsometimesâŠit takes meâŠawhile.â
The whisper fluttered between them like a living thing, uneven and precarious, shuddering with secretive shame.
It took a considerable effort not to reach out and take it between her palms, to soothe it still and quiet and bury it under a mountain of assurances. Â To lay there and observe it instead. Â To actually have the conversation first and let the assurances follow.
But that didnât mean the conversation couldnât be fun.
She reached out and squeezed Karaâs bicep. Raised an eyebrow. Â âAre you questioning my attention span?â
And that made Kara laugh, thankfully.  Made her snuggle closer.  âNo.â  Karaâs face fell, and she looked away again.  But the words still came.  âBut I donât want you to beâŠâ
âMe to beâŠ?â she prompted, running her finger up Karaâs arm.
She watched Kara fish for the words, watched her wince as they came to mind. Â âBored,â Kara said, a rough edge to her voice. Â âOr disheartened.â Â And then, still quieter, her voice cracking, âFrustrated.â
Fuck.
Even though Lena had suspected it would be something like this, it was differentâŠworse, to hear Kara say it.  To hear her voice break over the words.  To wonder if these insecurities were really so abstract, or if theyâd been cultivated with experience, with partners bored or disheartened or with the nerve to be fucking frustrated.
It was a lucky thing that she managed not to say the first impulsive assurance that came to mind (I canât stop thinking about fucking you), instead took a moment to gather herself and help Kara to the logic behind the assurance.
âDo you get bored when youâre touching me?â she asked, drawing circles on Karaâs shoulder with her finger.
The look Kara gave her then wasnât one sheâd soon forget, as if Lena had questioned the culinary value of potstickers or grown a second head. Â âNo. Â Never. Are you kidding?â
She pursed her lips, raised her eyebrows the slightest bit, see?
Kara caught up quickly, and she gave Lena a look then that was far more familiar. Â Lips parted, her wide blue eyes moving over Lenaâs face in something akin to wonder, blinking. Â Lena wasnât sure what this look meant for Kara, but she knew how it made her feel. Â How itâd made her feel the last time sheâd seen it, Kara resting on top of her with this same wonderstruck expression, cradling her faceâThereâs no one like you, Lena.
And Lena had to be the one to look away then, had to catch her breath.
She was still a little breathless when she pushed on through the rest of it, âAnd have you ever been disheartened? Â Or frustrated?â
Kara shifted beside her. Moved closer. Â âNo,â she whispered.
âAnd Iâm not going to be either.â Â She glanced back over at Kara, her heart giving a particularly frantic thump when she was met with that same wonderstruck expression. Â âNo matter what,â she promised, her voice heavy with it.
Kara didnât say anything, but that seemed to be a sort of answer. Â The sun had set while theyâd been laying there, dying orange light falling in long rays. Â They lightened Karaâs hair, made Kara fucking glow even more than usual, of course. Â Made Lena want to see more of her.
Easing forward, she held her hand up, stopping short of Karaâs ponytail. Â âCan I?â
Almost bashful, Kara nodded, her cheeks rosier than usual.
So fucking cute.
She cocked an eyebrow and tugged on Karaâs ponytail lightly. Â Excited herself with how Karaâs chin rose, how the muscles in her neck moved. Â
âYouâre beautiful like this,â she said, moving to slip the hairband off, onto her own wrist. Â She dug her hands into Karaâs soft hair, flipped it forward and fluffed it out. Â âAnd like this too.â
Kara appeared to take a bracing breath, reached out to touch Lenaâs cheek. Â But didnât deflect. Â Sat in the compliment and smiled at Lena instead.
Sliding closer, she rested her hand on Karaâs waist. Â Didnât miss how Kara jumped under her touch, or the quietest of apologetic whispers that followed, âSorry.â
And that wouldnât do.
âYou donât have to be sorry,â she said, trying for light, easy, unbothered. Â Trying to lower the stakes. Â âDo you want a hug?â
Karaâs warm smile returned, and Lena felt a little fuzzy, a little off-balance even before Kara opened her arms.
Scooting up against Kara, into her arms, Lena could have guessed at the rush of sweet sensations that would followâKaraâs vanilla-citrus scent, her scratchy-soft flannel, her chest expanding against Lenaâs. Â But what she couldnât have guessed was that Kara would tighten her hold, would take the opportunity to roll them back and forth across the bed. Â That Kara would laugh at her gasp of surprise, and then at her muffled noises of protest.
When they came to a sudden stop, Kara was pressing her into the mattress, was just as swiftly kissing her with smoldering intensity, with a desire that seemed to say, Iâm going to have you how I want you.
And while part of her certainlyâŠreactedâŠto that, it wasnât the next thing on her agenda.
She tapped Karaâs shoulder. Â âI want to be on top.â
Kara hummed, gave her a peck. Â âIf thatâs what you want.â Â Rolled them over again with more speed than seemed strictly necessary, Lena putting her hand out and halting their momentum with a huff.
She narrowed her eyes, propped herself up and straddled Kara so she could see her better. Â âYou donât want to make this easy for me, do you?â
Avoiding her eyes, Kara shrugged. Â âWanted to give you an out.â
Her heart dropped out of her chest, and she only just managed to bite back a stricken sigh. Wished she could summon as much warmth as Kara could, made a valiant attempt as she leaned down and took Karaâs face in her hands. Â âI donât want an out. Â I want you.â
And then she waited there, stroking Karaâs cheeks with her thumbs. Â Only felt her heart return to her chest when Kara met her eyes and took a hitching breath, when Kara leaned forward and kissed her. Â Kissed her soft, and then with blooming, expanding regard, her lips parting wide to welcome Lenaâs tongue.
Kara pulled back first, and her voice came out hoarse, âCan we see how it feels? Â And you donât have to keep going if you donât want to?â
âAs long as you tell me if you want me to stop, okay?â
âYeah.â Â Kara smiled, that slow, growing, honeyed smile that Lena loved. Â âYeah, okay.â
She helped herself to Kara slowly, as much for herself as for Kara. Â Exploratory foreplay wasnât unfamiliar to her, of course, but itâd most often been fast-paced with Andrea and the other women sheâd been with. There was a difference between teasing, breathing hotly against a squirming womanâs cunt and nosing the inside of her thighs, and exploring, flaring fingers and searing kisses tempered by soft curiosity. Â
And Lena was determined to explore every inch of Kara.
Which first involved much kissing, much tugging of clothes, much flushing delight at how Kara felt pinned under her, at how Kara smiled and whispered yes, moved to help Lena get her clothes off. Â At how Karaâs sun-kissed skin gave way to stark tan lines, to lighter, untouched skin and to a lacy blue bra and panties. Â At how perfect, how squarely right it felt that this was her second chance to see Kara in them, to do something about how unreasonably hot Kara looked like this, staring up at Lena, her golden hair fanned out around her on the bed.
She ran her finger up Karaâs abs, more than a little affected at the reminder of how solid, how strong Kara was, not that she could have forgotten. Â Inhaling deeply, she turned her finger to trace along the bottom band of Karaâs bra. Â âIâm so glad you wore this for me,â she said, her voice low and tight.
âYou like it?â
Chuckling, she brushed Karaâs hair away from her ear.  âYes. I like you in boxer briefs and sports bras too, butâŠâ  She lowered herself down against Kara, whispered, ââŠbut I can already tell youâre going to be so good at letting me have you like this.â
Karaâs gulp might have been audible from the other room, let alone from right up against her, and Lena sat back on her heels, worry pulling at her gut. Â Itâd been a push, she knew, but a push she hoped would help Kara sink into this.
âDid you like that?â she asked, trying to interpret Karaâs struck, suspended expression. Â âI donât have to talk-.â
âI liked it.â Â Kara nodded rapidly, eager. Â âLiked that.â She seemed to recover, smiled brightly up at Lena and rested her hand on Lenaâs hip. Â âI like you.â
She couldnât resist smiling back, leaned down to capture Karaâs lips and rekindle their momentum.
It went well for a while then, slow and steady between them, growing heavier with each passing minute. Groping for the lamp and flicking it on to bathe Kara in soft light. Â Yielding to Karaâs searching hands, trying to get her own clothes off without breaking apart from Kara for more than a second. Â Kissing and stroking her way over Karaâs body, rewarding Kara with possessive grabs and renewed effort when she felt Karaâs hand tighten in her hair, when Kara sighed or moaned.
Slowly, slowly, she worked Karaâs bra off, spent several minutes listening and feeling how Kara responded to her touch. Â It had swiftly become her favorite puzzle, figuring out what made Kara tick. Â
Sheâd learned a lot about how Kara liked her boobs played with in the last few weeks, but that didnât make it any less satisfying to build her up, to feel how quickly Karaâs chest started to rise and fall under her attentions, harsh breaths and hands fisting in and around Lena. To graze Karaâs nipple with her teeth and to hear how Kara gasped, to feel how Karaâs hips jumped under her.
Grinning against Kara, grinning wide and pressing it to Karaâs skin so sheâd feel it, Lena ran her hand down Karaâs side, let it rest on her thigh.
Things started to change a little, then.
It started with a tremble in Karaâs thigh, right there where sheâd left her hand. Â Which she read as good, initially, the sensation of what she assumed to be Karaâs nervous excitement sending a bolt of heat between her own legs. Â With a whine, she grinded down on one of Karaâs thighs. Â It was difficult to swallow suddenly, caught up in what itâd felt like to have the solid length of muscle pressed to her last week, flexing against her twitching clit and driving her up towards the headboard relentlessly.
Perhaps that was why it took her a minute to feel not just the trembling, but the tensing. Â How Kara had coiled herself up like a spring.
With dawning apprehension, she looked up to meet Karaâs eyes.
Found them clouded, Karaâs brow furrowed in that way it did when Kara was hard at work on an article or on figuring out the walking schedules for the neighborhood dogs.
She moved off of Kara, shifted to her kneel beside her. Â âHey.â
Kara exhaled, slightly shaky. Â âHi.â But the set of her shoulders remained tense, rigid.
Okay. Â She needed time.
Unhurried, Lena telegraphed her movements, laid down beside Kara and brushed her hand against Karaâs. Â Kara took it at once, threaded their fingers together. Â And then all she had to do was sit in this moment with Kara, to listen to her breathing gradually even out, to take in how still and quiet and full it felt between them.
To wait until it felt right to say, âItâs possible youâre thinking too much, darling.â
Kara vibrated beside her, chuckled. Â Turned and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Â âIâm thinking too much? Â Me?â
Smirking, she gave Kara a playful bump. Â âThereâs a first time for everything, I suppose.â
Kara laughed again, the best sound, squeezed her hand.
They laid in the quiet, in the low light of the lamp.
âCan we try again?â
Lena doubted she would have heard the whisper if their heads werenât resting against each other.
âYes. Â Always,â she said, as affirmative as she could make it. Â She turned onto her side, faced Kara. Â âIâm not expecting anything, you know. Â You donât have to worry.â Â She reached out, ran her hand down Karaâs chest, stomach, stopped just above her underwear. Â âIf you do want this, all you have to do is relax.â Â
Swiftly, she turned her eyes up, read Karaâs expressionâa little stupefied, but liquid loose, slack for her. Â She let go of Karaâs hand, rested it on the side of Karaâs warm neck instead. Â Leaned in and kissed her. Â Whispered to her, âI donât need to make you come to make you feel good.â
Kara shuddered, and she smiled, kissed her again. Thrilled at how quickly Kara recovered, how voraciously Kara kissed her back.
Broke away breathless, raised an eyebrow.  âDo youâŠwant that?â
The goofy, dazed grin plastered on Karaâs face made Lena clench her hands with want, for some unfathomable reason, and Karaâs rambling answer didnât help matters, âUh, yesâŠif youâŠyeah.  I mean, I really, really doâŠwantâŠsign me up?  ButâŠbut is this something you sign up for?  If itâs just us?  I bet youâd probably have a lot of people-.â
âKara.â
âOh, right. Â Yeah. Â Thank you. Ye-.â
She kissed Kara before she could start up again, before she inadvertently made it impossible for Lena to focus on anything else but the impossible heat gathering in her gut.
Soon enough, she settled into the slower pace from earlier, found a groove with Kara that had her body singing, had Kara moving to close any and all distance between them. Â She spent a long time making sure Kara liked the feeling of Lenaâs hand on her waist, over her legs, between her thighs.
And then, with a murmured exchange of yes? and yes, her fingers grazed Kara over her soft, lacy underwear. Â Slightly damp underwear, she found with a jolt, Kara slicker for her than sheâd dare hope.
âKara, you feel so good,â she sighed, and Kara whimpered, held her closer. Â
âSo do you,â Kara replied, her voice strained.
âRelax,â she whispered back, moving her hand still more slowly against Kara. Â âTry to relax, dearest.â
She waited until she felt Kara stretch loose-limbed beneath her. Â Kissed her and rubbed slow circles over Karaâs underwear. Â Let them both get used to it before she asked, âCan I take these off? Or do you want them on?â
âOff,â Kara said, apparently not up for further elaboration.
Her heart thumped particularly hard again, fuck, and she drew back enough to grab either side of the panties, to slide them down Karaâs legs.  Kara shifted to help, kicked them away when Lena got them down to her ankles, so transparently eager that Lena rocked subtly against her.
Easy, she reminded herself, and she slowed them back down. Â Rested her hand on Karaâs thigh lightly. Â âHi.â
Kara bit her lip. Â âHey.â
âHow are you?â she asked, her eyes flicking down to Karaâs cunt, to her trim, fair hair and the slick, swollen clit peeking out.
Fuck, wow.
She closed her eyes, steadied herself. Â Tried not to dwell on how itâd feel to tease Karaâs stiff bud with her fingers, how itâd be to take Karaâs clit in her mouth and suck on her, taste her-.
Something tucked her hair behind her ear, and when she opened her eyes, Kara flashed her a self-satisfied grin. Â Settled her hand on the nape of Lenaâs neck and husked, âWhoâs thinking too much now?â
She narrowed her eyes, saw it for the flirtatious challenge for control that it was, pushed Kara back against the bed firmly. âCan you blame me?  YouâreâŠ,â she gestured up and down the length of Karaâs body, eyes catching on muscle group after muscle group, flushing at how inarticulate sheâd become.  âYouâre a fucking statue,â she settled on, undercurrent of irritation fading.  Tentatively, she moved her hand over Karaâs chest, skated featherlight over her collarbones.  âYouâre beautiful, and Iâm so happy I get to be here with you.â
And Kara seemed content to continue whatever world record for eye contact they seemed to be going for lately, looking up at her in that way she had sometimes, like Lena had never disappointed her and never could.
She tried not to let that unnerve her, tried not to block out the slowly shrinking part of her that said, you donât deserve it. Â Focused on Kara instead. Â âNow: how are you?â
Kara chuckled, shook her head. Â Waved her hand as if it the answer were obvious. Â
But Lena waited, wanted to hear.
âI donât need that much more,â Kara finally said, blue eyes wide, guileless, wondering. Â Apparently still trying for the world record for eye contact. Â âYouâve already given me so much. Â Want to give it back to you.â
And as much as her body leapt at that prospect, as much as sheâd give for Kara to find out exactly how wet she wasâŠtheyâd barely even started.
She reached down and stroked up through Karaâs folds. Â Took gleeful note of how Kara gasped, how she chased the contact with her hips and grabbed for Lena.
âAre you asking me to stop because youâre done or because you think I am?â Â She kissed along Karaâs neck, started slow, light circles around her clit. Â âBecause Iâm not even close to done with you, Danvers. But Iâll stop if you want.â
âOh my god.â
 Writing playlist for this chapter:
      Deceptacon by Le Tigre
      Iâm Going Down Like the Titanic by Javi Thatâs Me
      My Girl by The Temptations
      Kiss by Adiescar Chase
      California Dreaminâ by Chris Lorenzo + High Jinx (for the Metropolis race)
      Bette Davis Eyes by Kim Carnes
      Encounters by bl00dwave
      Wet Dream by Wet Leg
      Little Death by The Beths
      Go Down On You by The Memories
      Chapter theme:  Amour plastique by Videoclub
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2022 writing review
so its 2023, so what? better to review a year with a little bit of distance methinks
tagged by @kitkatpancakestack hope ur 2023 is going well so far muah <3
1. Number of stories posted to AO3:Â 42 oh lord
2. Word count posted for the year: 297,700 (mortifying)
3. Fandoms I wrote for:Â 9-1-1
4. Pairings: buck/eddie
5. Story with the most:Â
kudos: please? (can't say no) 1,220 kudos
bookmarks: the persistence of memory 386 bookmarks
comment threads: the persistence of memory 119 threads
6. Work Iâm most proud of (and why): ooooof i was gonna say the persistence of memory just because of the sheer word count and that i love the story but im actually really proud of my gilmore girls au all you have to do is call my name (i'll be there) because i wrote 40k words in under a week and for once i wasn't wondering about if people would read it i wrote it for me (and my beloved elke) honourable mentions to 1001 reasons to not get drunk with your sister's boyfriend and any of my ravi pov fics because they're silly but i love them all the same and my amnesia collection
7. Work Iâm least proud of (and why): hmmm probably we don't go through the glass doors because it was half-formed but i still posted it, i basically just saw that gif of peeta pressing his forehead against the forcefield for katniss in the jabberjay scene and i was like but what if it was buddie and yeah i just do not know why i posted it ig
8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: any comments i've had saying that i should be a writer for the show makes me want to scream such as "this is soooooooooooo good!!!! its so perfectly and wonderfully devastating and heartbreaking and emotional and warm and soft. you write the firefam's dialogue SOOO WELL! they should add you as a staff writer tbh. â€â€â€â€â€â€" on (tpom surefire way to make me happy is to compliment my dialogue and the 118 dynamics)
9. A time when writing was really, really hard: at the moment tbh i have so much uni work to do and an original piece of fiction im 200+ pages into and i'm trying to do all of that at once so the fic has fallen to the wayside a little
10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:Â god this is really difficult and it definitely doesn't help that i can barely remember anything about my fics but um i guess character-wise its a surprise whenever i write taykay as an actual character rather than just a mention through gritted teeth lol but um scene-wise maybe just my whole albert pov fic what are you doing home? we thought you were babysitting just because its not something i'd normally write (eddie is only mentioned how uncharacteristic of me!!)
11. A favourite excerpt of your writing: oh god um i am so proud of lots of bits to my writing so i'm going to try to limit myself
just all of my surrealism weaved into 9-1-1, what's your fantasy? to kind of hint that buck's dreaming
the realisation scene in flatpack furniture and a djungelskog
"It'll be pretty cool, right?" Eddie's talking, but Buck can barely hear it over the static ringing in his ears. "To look at it and know that we made it togetherâ"
You don't find it, son, you make it.
Its nothing special. Its nothing out of the ordinary.
There's nobody in this world I trust more with my son than you.
There's an Alan key sitting in his open palm, ever so slightly warmed by Eddie's hand.
I know you did.
Its nothing special. Its nothing out of the ordinary.
You two have an adorable son.
Eddie passes him tools at work all the time without him asking. They've suffered the telepathy jokes a million times.
Shouldn't it be when you're at your worst, they're at their worst, you have every reason to give up and you still decide you want to try again.
this scene from the only try day is wednesday because i originally hated this fic until i reread this moment
The picture catches the flames, curling up at the bottom corners, colours melting away and consuming Eddie and Christopher whole before finally, finally taking Buck too.
Because that's the thing. If Eddie is in there, if he'sâ Then that's what's going to happen. The fire takes Eddie first. Then, Christopher. Christopher who loses two parents and gets stuck with a Buck, a Buck he'll grow to resent because Buck's the reason Eddie was here in the first place, because Buck didn't save Eddie. So, the fire will take Buck finally.
And it will take him violently. It will ravage him, turn him to ash and sift it through their fingers until he's nothing but a few chunks of burnt bone. It will take him, consume him, ruin him. And he'll be dead, in every way that counts. He's already dying now.
Buck refuses to let it happen.
He'll die. He'll die before Chris can resent him because that would finish him off. Losing Christopher, losing Christopher to hatred and loathing, that would kill him. And that death would be much more violent than any chaos fire could wreak.
this scene in memory (all alone in the moonlight)
"Eddie, can we not do this?" Sighing, Buck looks up at the ceiling. "I'm missing five years of my life. I feel like shit. I really don't need you coming in here acting all weird."
Eddie lets out a breath and takes a step forward.
"What do you need from me, Buck?"
And, fuck, that question really shouldn't bring tears to his eyes, but. But Buck's spent his whole life being the one asking that question and now he doesn't even know the person who knows him well enough to ask it.
"I need my best friend." He whispers.
Eddie's face crumbles and he crosses the space between them in three steps, settling onto the edge of the bed and pulling Buck into his chest. Buck clutches at his Henley as he tries to compose himself, but Eddie's hand settles heavy at the base of his skull.
"Hey, don't do that." Eddie murmurs. "Just let it go, Buck."
And so, Buck breaksâfor the second time in as many daysâin a relative stranger's arms.
Eventually, when the tears have subsided and Buck finds the energy to be embarrassed about dirtying Eddie Diaz's shirt with snot and tears, he sits back in his bed and scrubs at his face.
"Thanks." He rasps.
"You don't have to thank me for that, Buck." Eddie offers him a cup of water and a handful of tissues. "I know you don't remember it, but we promised to have each other's backs and I don't plan on breaking that anytime soon."
"Fuck." Buck wipes at his eyes with the tissues until Eddie pries it from his hand and takes over for him, soft and gentle enough to have the tears springing to life all over again. "I really want to hate you." Eddie laughs.
12. How did you grow as a writer this year: honestly just sheer volume of writing, for most of my writing life i was always so perfectionist and adamant that i couldn't move on until this one project was polished and perfect but this year i've written and written and written and let myself abandon projects and have rough first drafts yknow
13. How do you hope to grow next year: hmm idk really maybe just write even more and branch out a little in what i'm writing
14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc): @danielsousa my love, my heart, my rock!!!!! honestly probably wouldn't have written half as much if it weren't for elke cheering me on for the gilmore girls au and sending me screenshots of my writing that made her want to kill me
15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: oh much i'm sure, i put myself into everything i write intentionally or not just because its such a personal thing for me but um in persistence of memory all the timeloop media references and agents of shield as i have always been reference specifically
16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: read and write! nothing is ever going to help you as much as that. read fics yes, but read books and poetry anthologies and non-fiction! and write! write fic, write shitty poetry in your notes app, write short fiction, start a book. in the wise words of shia la boeuf JUST DO IT
17. Any projects youâre looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:Â ohhh okay so i have plans for two very big buddie aus an agents of shield au where fitzsimmons are technically henchim but buddie gets their romantic scenes, and then a national treasure au because i am a SUCKER for those films and chimney as riley is something that can be soooo personal
18. Tag some writers whose answers youâd like to read: ummm just anyone who wants to do this?? feel free to say i tagged you because my brain isn't working!!
#sami rambles#this is long sorry#but it was really fun#and definitely not a way for me to ignore all that aforementioned uni work#tag game#long post
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Darkness : Poe Dameron x Reader
Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader
Words: 1.4k
Excerpt: âDarkness is a time of peace for you. A time to crawl into soft sheets, to curl up against your pilot. Some nights, to feel him lazily press a soft kiss to your forehead before his breath levels out in sleep. Others, to feel his hands roaming your body, feel him inside you.â
Summary: A short talk to Poe is always enough to cure a case of loneliness.
Warnings: Some sexual references
A/N: This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. I actually originally meant for this to be a perhaps 500 word-ish Drabble but it ended up way longer obviously. But Iâm really proud of it and love the concept of Writer Wednesday, so hope you guys enjoy! (Also, weâre just gonna pretend that phones and phone booths exist in the Star Wars universe...).
Youâve always found something lovely in darkness.
Itâs simple, quiet, a constant that never changes, that rolls around at roughly the same time each night. Settles over cities and towns and every being in the galaxy in a thin blanket. Darkens faces into comforting anonymity, conceals the activities of lovers, provides peace in slumber for the weary.
There is a saying: One should not be afraid of the dark, but of what lies in it.
And after years of life, years of travel, years of experiencing the galaxy, you know that nothing sinister hides beneath darkness. No monsters, no demons, no ghosts. It is something that simply exists with no ulterior motive, something that is debatably hard to come by these days.
Darkness is a time of peace for you. A time to crawl into soft sheets, to curl up against your pilot. Some nights, to feel him lazily press a soft kiss to your forehead before his breath levels out in sleep. Others, to feel his hands roaming your body, feel him inside you.
In those times, darkness is there, still a constant. Hiding his features, hiding those eyes you adore during the daytime, allowing you to become entirely tactile, to simply feel him to the fullest, void of the distraction oneâs most used method of perception, sight, Â provides.
Yet tonight is a rare night. Your feet hit pavement as you walk quickly, hands in your coat, head bent towards the ground. Youâve been on this Outer Rim planet for nearly two months, gathering intelligence undercover, maintaining little to no contact with the Resistance, and therefore, Poe.
The darkness seems stronger than ever tonight. It slithers up and down the sides of buildings, seems to wrap around you in strings. In this moment, it is not simply a coverâit is suffocating.
The loneliness had been getting to you. Too many days going by a name that is not your own, too many days living in constant fear, too many days away from the touch of someone thatâs always able to take your mind off of everything.
And thatâs exactly what you need right now. A distraction. A brief moment to bind you back to everything you know, something you are slowly, imperceptibly slipping away from in your mind. The buildings seem to tower over you, to dwarf you. Itâs an intimidation act, and you feel itâs working.
It feels as if you can sink into the asphalt, become one with the soil that had been so cruelly compressed by man-made rock. As if you can sink beneath and become one with the dead, the figurative and the literal that had most likely been so barbarously worked to death to build this historic city in the dark days of the galaxy.
You round a bend, turning onto the main street, and your eyes, adjusted to the dark, flare painfully as light hits you. You snap them shut on instinct, flinching. However, the object of your discomfort is not an unknown. This route had been walked by you every day the last two months, and the light is the same phone booth youâd been using to transmit information back to the Resistance due to the anonymous, unmonitored, and therefore, rare quality of it.
It is hardly used anymore, for everyone has their own personal holos, and this one is particularly beat up. Itâs translucent walls are cloudy, itâs metal backing dented. Nowadays, it is probable that is it only frequented by drunks and Spice addicts and, wellâŠyou.
There is something ironic about the fact that this small, dilapidated booth is your only connection back to DâQar.
But not ironically, perhaps in a poetically symbolic manner, it also shines bright in the darkness, eradicates the very thing that had been suffocating you moments earlier. It is almost a physical embodiment of hope.
It is also a universal rule that hope births more hope, and an unwise desire comes over you. One that could put the whole operation at risk. But resisting the temptation, it hurts. Itâs agonizing, and you want to give in to it. You want to hear one voice. One voice that can wrap you in softness, encourage your imagination to conjure up the sensation of his touch.
And before you know it, youâre in the booth, dialing a long string of numbers youâve memorized by now. A voice of a communications officer sounds.
You state your name.
âSecurity code?â the officer asks.
âSix nine eight oh seven three.â
Your eyes nervously glance around. Despite having done this a few times, the experience still makes your heart race. You can only hope that any observer would see only an ordinary lone figure, silhouetted in the light, making an emergency call to a friend because she drank too much or got her wallet stolen.
âYou got information?â
âNo,â you respond, letting out a soft breath and lying through your teeth. âI need you to transfer me to Commander Dameron. I have a hunch regarding something naval, and I need his opinion.â
You silently chide yourself at your quickness to over explain.
But luckily, the communication officer says nothing. âTransferring now,â he says.
You thank him, leaning against the inner wall of the booth, hovering the phone directly next to your ear. Moments of silence pass before a voice breaks it.
âHello?â says Poe.
Every point of tension in you seemed to relax in a moment as your eyes slowly close. The timbre of his voice washes over you, through you. âHey,â you whisper.
âSweetheart?â He sounds confused. Above all, tired.
âDid I wake you?â you ask, feeling bad all of a sudden. The high that had been coursing through your veins moments earlier plunges back to the ground. The intensity with which you feel it is irrational, yet nothing in you mind is steady.
âYeah, but thatâs okay,â he replies, a slight urgency to his voice. âIs something wrong?â
You picture him in your shared bed back on DâQar, shirt off like usual. Propped up on one elbow, sheets falling to his waist, holo to his ear, concern on his features. Concern at his love calling him in the middle of the night, her voice shaking.
âNothingâs wrongâŠI justâŠIâŠ.â Your voice trails off, and a silence a bit too long elapses.
âBaby?â he asks.
Your breath trembles slightly as you let it out. âThis was a mistake,â you mumble. âIâm sorry, justââ
He interjects at the tone of finality in your voice. âHeyâŠdonât go, sweetheart.â You hear him shift, perhaps sitting up. âJust talk to me. Whatâs wrong?â
âI miss you,â you blurt out. Youâd meant to say it more eloquently, less directly, but thatâs not something you have the energy for right now. âI miss everyone back on DâQar. This assignmentâŠitâs the most least contact with base Iâve ever had, andâwhy am I even telling you that? You know that.â You let out a frustrated breath, gathering your thoughts. He patiently waits, something youâre grateful for. âIâm justâŠhaving a hard time. Thatâs all.â
His energy transmits well through the phone. Heâs thinking, the gears in his mind turning. You can feel the helplessness, for there is undeniably little he can do. âI miss you, too,â he finally says. âItâs a few more weeks, baby. I know youâve got it in youâŠâ
Itâs a simple sentence, yet nearly reinvigorating in a way. Nothing that immediately lifts your mood, but perhaps something that briefly abates the hollow feeling within you.
âIâll be there the moment youâre back.â His tone is soft, a little raspy with tiredness, slightly reminiscent of the way he tells you how much he loves and how amazing you are in a post-sex haze of exhaustion. Itâs an odd relation, but the sense of peace that both tones hold is something you always cling to. âIâll be there to kiss you. To hold you.â He pauses. âTo take you to bedâŠ.â
The way his voice, on the last statement, walks the line between humorous and genuinely seductive makes you laugh quietly. Itâs neither a common nor desirable combination.
âThereâs that beautiful laugh,â he says softly, letting out a breath, returning to his previous demeanor. âIâll be there, baby. I know you know that.â
You nod even though he canât see you. Air brushes past your lips as your eyes flutter shut. âI know.â
..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..
Taglist (for everything): @dark-academics-and-florals @theultimateslashgirl
Taglist (for Poe): @synical-paradox @spider-starry @paper-n-ashes
If you wish to be tagged on any of my future works, just let me know or do the form on my Masterlist if thatâs easier!
Based on this Writer Wednesday pic:
#Writer Wednesday#poe dameron#poe dameron x reader#star wars#star wars fanfiction#poe dameron fanfiction
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WIP Wednesday- HIOB chapter 12
Content warning for brief references to a past suicidal episode. (The actual thing is lighthearted!)
It's suggestive, but not actually NSFW. They're just having a post-scene bath. đ
...I'm excusing this excerpt being long because I am like five words under 6k rn. I wasn't kidding about Jason not being able to shut the fuck up.
It's strange how little sex involved.Â
Mostly, they just talk, Percy curled up against Jason's chest as the jets pound into the knot that stubbornly reasserted itself almost as soon as they parted ways. They're off now, and the relative silence is odd, but calming.
Percy's exhausted too, although he doesn't seem to realize how much effort he's expending in his (largely successful) attempts to deal with Jason's exhaustion. He yawns into Jason's shoulder, vividly calling back a thousand memories.
"It was really, really hard not to tell you I loved you," Jason says quietly, after a few moments of soft splashing and conversational lull. Percy lifts his head, wet hair sticking to his jaw.
"You told me all the time. Your love language, ironically, is 'acts of service'." He smirks, inexplicably soft. "It's just that you only used the actual words once."
Of course he knows what they're talking aboutâ this is probably just as nostalgic for him. Jason's pulse quickens, residually feeling that long-ago crushing terror.Â
("You and I both know that right now you'd say almost anything to get me toâ"
"Did it occur to you that I might be willing to say almost anything, including the truth? Because the truth, Percy, is that I'm being selfish, because you're my friend and I love you and I really don't want to lose you.")
"I hadn't even thought it to myself yet. It justâ popped into my head and came out of my mouth. Not that I didn't know, but I hadn't faced up to how serious it had gotten."
Percy tilts his head. He looks thoughtful and tender.Â
"We really are foils, huh? I faced up to it when I cried on your shoulder for the first time, I just had no fuckin' clue what I was facing up to."Â
"We're counterweights, too." Jason brushes back that strand of hair, mostly as an excuse to cup Percy's cheek. "Like how I'm emotionally constipated and you wear your heart on your sleeve."Â
"My mom told me that exact thing the morning after senior prom." Percy, smiling, leans into the touch. "Just the part about me. It was how she knew I was smitten. Apparently, I'd been making moony eyes at you since I got out of the hospital."
Jason's inner seventeen year old shivers with delight. They haven't even been together for six months yet, but it feels like they've been in love their whole lives. Like maybe they've been in love for several lives already.
"I admire how expressive you are. Iâ"Â
He stops himself, grimacing slightly. Percy picks up the slack.Â
"You have a lot of feelings, but every time you showed them, it got you screamed at. You learned to hold it in because you didn't have a choice, but that doesn't make you any less sensitiveâ it's not so much that you have a thick skin and more that you've learned to push through your pain. Which is also why you reinjure at least two things per season and insist on continuing to play until you're forcibly benched." He narrows his eyes. "Hint hint."Â
Jason slides his hand around the back of Percy's neck and pulls him down again, ignoring the jab.Â
"If you ever go back to school, you should seriously consider counseling as a career path."Â Â
"I am, actually." Percy sits up and grins, a fierce, thunderous determination in it. "I want to be a licensed clinical social worker. I can add to the pool of 'em who don't totally suck, and at this point I'm something of an expert at needing therapy, so my clients and I will have that experience in common."
"That's perfect for you." Jason kisses the top of Percy's head. "You're incredibly insightful and compassionate. You always know what to say and how to say it, and it's not even on purposeâ it's what's sincerely in your heart. The only people who ever doubt how much you care about them are the ones who aren't paying attention."Â
Percy buries his face in Jason's neck and raspberries his upper trapezius.Â
"Gee, tell me how you really feel."
They're both flushed from the steam, but Jason has a feeling they would be anyway.Â
"You knew this about me, babe."Â
"Shut up. Just because I like it doesn't mean I have to like it."
"I'll tone it down if you want me to," Jason tells him, smiling. He knows what the answer will be before Percy even shakes his head.Â
"Nah, I'm worse. I used to, like, wistfully tell people, 'oh, Jason's the bestâ'" he puts on that slightly-mocking tone he uses when he's quoting himself like thisâ "'he's such a great dude, he's so good at calming me down, I can only fall asleep when he's holding me, I don't know what I'd do without him, also his tits are very nice, yes, I'm sure I'm straight, why do you ask?'"Â
Jason snorts. "You see my point about how quickly and easily you show people your love."Â
"I'm not the only one." Percy sits up a little, his hand on Jason's chest to brace himself. "You try to be stoic, but what you really are is steady. People gravitate to you when they're upset or scared because they know you'll protect them, and they end up trailing behind you like ducklings. You don't show you hurt, but you definitely show you care."
Jason runs his hand over Percy's back where the cool shower soothed away the irritation.Â
"See? You always know what to say."Â
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things we could burn in one go (eminence) -- chapter 10
also on ao3
Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together
Chapter Summary: Alex and Forrest struggle to understand each other in the wake of their breakup; Alex makes a shocking discovery at the Long farm.
Excerpt:
The corner of Forrestâs mouth twitched, as did one eyebrow, and his stance softened slightly. âNo serenade? No boombox? No diamonds? There goes that fantasy.â
It was true; Alex had come here empty-handed, the way he brought himself to every step of their relationship. All the things he had inside him, all the things he had to give, heâd failed to deliver any of them in a way that Forrest needed. Heâd made do with illusions, convincing ones, convincing enough to fool even himself into thinking he was built any other way than this. He was a problem-solver, a provider; it was bitter medicine to learn that brute-forcing himself into the proper shape for someone else only hurt everyone involved.
Alex ducked his head with an infinitesimal smile of his own. âSorry to disappoint.â
Forrest shook his head. âHonestly, Iâm just kind of surprised youâre even here. I thought Iâd be waiting until I decided to come to you. And shouldnât you be at work right now?â
âI took a half day,â Alex replied. Heâd taken tomorrow off as well to prepare for their planning session, but Forrest didnât need to know that. âI didnât want to make either of us wait. Not for this.â
(Wednesday, 14:00)
The Long family home was leagues from the old barn and the fallen tree, but an odd sort of almost-nostalgia sloshed in Alexâs stomach as he approached the house all the same. He had only been back here a few times since he and Forrest met; it wasnât a part of their relationship; it was more convenient to spend their time at Alexâs, where there was no one to bother them. When they spent the night together, it was in Alexâs bed, and the sex they had was there too, unless Forrest knew for sure Wyatt was gone and not coming back. That thought only made it stranger, how Alex had never quite gotten used to sharing his space with him, sharing a bed, sharing a life. For the thousandth time he wondered what was wrong with him, but he took a deep breath and cut that feeling loose and let it float away. What good was a question with no answer to him now? It was a search heâd never finish, and he would have to learn to live with it.
It felt wrong to leave something before it was finished. To turn his back on a piece of himself before examining every inch of it under the light, to cut loose a string without following it to its end and seeing where it led. But to force it would only make things worse, and heâd done enough of that already.
By the time Alex parked, shut off his car, and gathered his willpower to approach the house, the door was open, and Forrest was waiting for him on the porch. He lookedâŠgreat. Normal. Heâd touched up his hair; his eyes were well-rested and sharp; his fingers and neck dripped with jewelry, and Alex could recognize the look for the armor it was. His own leather jacket was a solid weight across his shoulders.
âHey,â he said with an awkward wave.
The corner of Forrestâs mouth twitched, as did one eyebrow, and his stance softened slightly. âNo serenade? No boombox? No diamonds? There goes that fantasy.â
It was true; Alex had come here empty-handed, the way he brought himself to every step of their relationship. All the things he had inside him, all the things he had to give, heâd failed to deliver any of them in a way that Forrest needed. Heâd made do with illusions, convincing ones, convincing enough to fool even himself into thinking he was built any other way than this. He was a problem-solver, a provider; it was bitter medicine to learn that brute-forcing himself into the proper shape for someone else only hurt everyone involved.
Alex ducked his head with an infinitesimal smile of his own. âSorry to disappoint.â
Forrest shook his head. âHonestly, Iâm just kind of surprised youâre even here. I thought Iâd be waiting until I decided to come to you. And shouldnât you be at work right now?â
âI took a half day,â Alex replied. Heâd taken tomorrow off as well to prepare for their planning session, but Forrest didnât need to know that. âI didnât want to make either of us wait. Not for this.â
Forrest just snorted and moved aside, sitting in a rocking chair and nudging the one beside it with his foot. âWell, letâs get this over with.â
Sitting, they were silent for a while, the world peaceful around themâbirds chirping, sun shining, the whole nine yards. Alex watched a small lizard creep across the dirt below the porch railing until it disappeared beneath the house.
âIâm sorry,â he said. âI should have told you about Michael. That wasnât fair, and Iâm sorry for how I acted and the things I said.â
He swallowed, grimaced, almost, the words juvenile and inadequate to his own ears.
âAbout Michael staying with you, orâŠabout Michael,â Forrest replied, guarded.
âThe first one. Wellâboth, as it turns out. I thoughtâŠI guess it doesnât matter what I thought. Iâm sorry for not telling you that Michael was staying over; that was shitty, I knew the whole time it was shitty, and I did it anyway because I didnât want to fight. But at the same time, I had no idea you were worried about, well, me cheating on you.â
Sighing, Forrest said, âI told you, man. Unfinished business. Itâs kind of visible from space. Before this, I wouldnât even have thought I was a jealous person, can you believe that? I should have said something to you, but I thought I could just power through it.â
âI guess we both learned things about ourselves,â Alex said wryly. âI didnât think I had anything to hide, but when it came time to say something about Michael to you, I just clammed up. Would I have felt that way if it was Kyle staying over? Probably not. But I wasnât thinking about it like that.â
âHuh.â Forrest paused. He rocked his chair slowly forward and back, hands folded on his stomach.
âDid I act weird? Shifty, like I was hiding something?â Alex asked, awkward and vulnerable, embarrassed at how poorly he knew himself, how poorly he knew how he should have acted to not even know that much.
âNo, not really. Well, you were pretty distant, but,â he shrugged, âthereâs nothing wrong with needing space. It was justâŠyou know, you sang that song at the Pony when we got together, and I had an inkling it was about Guerin, but for some reason I thought I could handle it. Dating a guy who was in love with someone else, who was trying to move on. But it didnât work like that, huh.â
âIâm sorry,â Alex repeated weakly. âI really thought I was ready. I didnât mean to lie to you; mostly I was lying to myself. But I know it doesnât make it any better.â
âCan I ask you a question? Point blank?â
âUm, sure. Go ahead.â
âWere you cheating on me with Guerin?â
âNo.â That, at least, he could say firm and clear.
Forrest took a deep breath, dropped his eyes, then looked out across the desert. âOkay.â
âOkay?â
âI believe you.â
Briefly, Alex had to push down the urge to lash out defensively like he had during their previous fight. Had he really done so much to deserve that scrutiny while they were together?
âThank you,â he said, not sure of what else needed to be.
âI appreciate you coming here and being honest. I meanâŠit still kind of stings for things to end this way, but. I do appreciate it. And, well, Iâm sorry too.â
âFor what?â
âShowing up and exploding like that without giving you some warning. I mean, Iâm kind of not sorry it brought things to a head in the end, but it was still rude.â
âNo, I shouldâveââ
Forrest held up a hand to stall Alex. âNo, seriously, dude. The martyr act is cute, but Iâm a big boy. Your house is covered in cameras, and you need like two weeks of warning for a coffee date; I knew better than to think showing up like that would be a cute surprise.â
âOh. Um.â Alex floundered for a way to respond to that. He felt seen, pinned under the lamp of an insight he hadnât known Forrest had. It was itchy.
âUm, thanks. For the apology. And I get what you mean, about being sorry it happened but not sorry thatâŠwell. I really am sorry it ended this way.â If not that it was ending at all.
âAre you?â Forrest raised an eyebrow. âYouâre a free agent now. I half-expect Guerin to send me flowers by Saturday.â
Alex winced. But still, he said, âOkay, thatâs fair. We kind of, umâŠâ
Forrest let out an ugly snort. âYou know, most people double check after a fight like that. Damn, Iâm glad I was already planning on breaking up with you for good if you hadnât gotten the message.â
âIâŠI know. The way it happened, it justâŠâ Alex sighed and raked his hand through his hair. âI wonât make excuses. You have every right to be mad.â
âI am mad. And hurt,â Forrest said matter-of-factly. âBut maybe not as much as I thought Iâd be, once the shock cooled off.â
âY-yeah?â
âYeah.â A smile flickered on Forrestâs mouth, and he shrugged. âLooking back on it, it kind of feels like weâd been forcing it for a while, huh.â
Alex matched him hesitant smile for hesitant smile. Between them there were stacks of stilted conversations and unmade plans, awkward mornings and missed connections. From the morning Fields barged into Alexâs life to the moment he thought he saw his brother at the airport, in the past few weeks there were a number of times Alex had found himself unable to reach out across a gap and meet Forrest there. Heâd thought it was just something wrong with him; it was an unbelievable relief to find that Forrest felt the same.
âYou might be right,â he confessed.
âYeah, I think I am,â Forrest sighed. âDamn. Thatâs probably why my head went straight to cheating.â
âYou donât have to find a way to even that scale,â Alex replied, shaking his head. âI was wrong; I wonât back down from that. But Michael aside, I never wanted to hurt you, Forrest. And Iâm sorry I did.â
Forrest chewed on his lip, an old nervous habit. He had a pinprick scar just there, a souvenir from a piercing heâd grown out of, and when Alex would kiss him there, heâd smile. Alex was walking away from this with warm memories, sweet new patterns in the weaving of his life, unexpected treasures. And that in itself was something to cherish, no matter how much their relationship faded into history.
âYeah, well, same here.â
âYou didnât hurt me, now youâre the one trying to even the scaleââ Alex protested.
Forrest cut him off. âI like you, Alex, and I liked our jam sessions, and you made my time in Roswell suck so much less than I thought it would. But thereâs a universe where weâre sitting on opposite ends of this, because my book is way more almost done than Iâd let on to you just yet, so. Thanks for being such an almost-two-timing emotionally constipated jerk so when I tell my friends this story five years from now I can totally get all the sympathy.â
Alex let out a surprised snort that turned into laughter, and Forrest joined him, if a little more subdued than heâd normally be.
When they collected themselves, Forrest wiped some wetness away from his eyes and said, âSeriously, though, Alex, I hope he makes you happy. Because I donât think we did that for each other, in the long run.â
âI hope that for you, too, Forrest,â Alex replied softly. âYou deserve someone way less fucked up than me.â
âNah, cut that crap out. Weâre all a little bit fucked up.â
âI guess thatâs true.â
âIt is true. You, me, whoever I date next. My old granny,â he said with the first true smile of the afternoon. âAnd Guerin, too.â
His smile dropped as quickly as it had appeared, and he leaned forward, reaching out and putting his hand on Alexâs knee; Alex almost shied away, but he forced himself to stay still.
âI just want to make sure,â Forrest said, voice gentleâa gentleness Alex didnât trust. His composure broke, and he drew back, the slight movement causing Forrest to drop his hand. He continued, âGuerinâŠheâs what you want? Truly, this is what you want?â
âYes,â Alex snapped, no hesitation.
âOkay. Just, if youâre sure. If this is really your choice.â
Alexâs patience ripped clean in two. âI know the two of you spent some time together at the library,â he said, voice level and deliberate, âbut from what I can tell, you donât know him at all, so spare me this paternalism, okay? I can make my own choices. Whatever assumptions youâre makingââ
âOkay! Okay.â Forrest held his hands up in surrender, but it did nothing to cool Alexâs temper. âI just had to ask.â
âWell, thereâs your answer.â
âNoted.â
Alex stood stiffly, and Forrest followed just a second behind. They stood and stared at each other for a few seconds, Alex waiting for him to make a move, Forrest waiting for something Alex couldnât figure.
Then Forrest stuck out his hand. In the same motion, Alex half-turned, made himself sideways, a smaller target, flowing out of the path if that hand continued forward in a blow. But no, it stayed still halfway between them. Forrest didnât comment on his reaction. Alex reached out and shook his hand.
âIâll see you around sometime,â Forrest said. His smile crinkled up the corners of his eyes.
âTake care of yourself, Forrest,â Alex replied.
He left the Long farm the same way he came, down the same dirt road, down the same path in his head, with the same almost-nostalgia. Leaving looked a hundred different ways, and heâd been a hundred different times, but this time the scenery was new, and he was ready to be home.
 (15:00)
A lot of work went into making Alexâs house a home.
When he moved from the Valenti cabin closer to town, it was out of necessity, even if it took him a long time to admit it. It was a victory over his own stubbornness and solitude and maladaptive independence, a concession to comfort that surprised even himself. It made his life better. He was closer to work; he was closer to his friends; he had an accessible bathroom, and something heâd considered so small before helped him along a journey heâd barely acknowledged toward accepting and appreciating the body he lived in now. But changing environments wasnât easy for him. Heâd had to put a yearâs worth of care into finding the perfect location and fitting the house there to be someplace he could feel secure without complete solitude for miles around him, between the cameras and the vantage point of the patio and the orientation of his bedroom within the house and just everything from top to bottom. Heâd fought hard. He won.
And then he came home from breaking up with his ex-boyfriend to find a strange car in his driveway.
Well, not entirely strange. Heâd seen it once before. But when he saw it, it was from the vantage point of his own front door, not from the outside.
The car had room to park in the driveway because Michaelâs truck was gone, and that was the only mercy Alex knew as he parked in the street and unholstered his gun. Michael wasnât here; he was safe with Isobel or Max or Sanders or someoneâsomeone who wasnât Alex, who thought he had a safe space, a space to protect Michael, but in the end had nothing at all. The house hadnât been empty since Michaelâs injury, but now that he was on the mend, it was at times. Michael was alone at times.
Was this the first time Fields had come by? What was stopping her from returning with backup and taking Michael away?
Gun in one hand, phone in the other, there was one defensive maneuver on Alexâs mind before he confronted his enemy.
Michael answered quickly, though every second felt like an eternity as Alex watched Fields watch him, face expressionless, body language placid in her place between him and his own front door.
âAlexââ His voice came through, so light and happy it stole the breath from Alexâs chest. He was okay. He wasnât shoved in the back of a van, chained and muffled and senseless, his truck abandoned in a ditch somewhere in the desert.
He didnât let him finish. âThank God. Where are you, Michael? Are you okay?â
Worry stole the light from Michaelâs tone, but Alex could beat himself up for causing that later. âAlex? Iâm fine, Iâm at the Pony, whatâs wrongââ
Alex repeated, âThank god. Donât come home, do you hear me? Do not come back to the house until I give you the all clear. Stay with Max and Maria.â
âWhat? No!â
Alex hung up on him and stowed his phone before leaving the car and crossing the street.
âCaptain!â Fields said cheerfully from one of his patio chairs. Her eyes flicked down and clocked Alexâs weapon held at his side, but her demeanor didnât change.
âWhat is this about? Get off my property,â Alex almost snarled.
âSure, Captain. Your call.â
She stood, adjusted her skirt, and pulled her phone from her pocket. It couldnât have rung more than once before she said, all lightness gone from her tone, âGet me Sgt. Manes.â
Cold clarity broke over Alexâs head and trickled through his veins. His arms snapped up and locked into place, gun pointed directly at Fields, unwavering.
âHang up,â he ordered.
âYouâre in control here,â she replied. âIâve given you all the time in the world, and now Iâm giving you more.â She angled her phone away from her face so he could hear the tinny hold music blaring from the speaker. âIf youâre going to keep avoiding me, Iâm going to call someone in who has answers and gets results. Or are you prepared to do that for me?â
The music measured the seconds as Alex considered his options, mind apart from motionless body. Project Shepherd, the source of so much pain, so many nightmares. He still didnât really know what Fields wanted from him, except to continue his fatherâs work.
But he didnât have to do that, did he? Put him at the helm of the Project, and he could quietly shut it down from the inside, erase it from existence, reduce it down to nothing. Euthanasia of a legacy.
In a perfect world, if Alex were a perfect man, he would. The path was paved with solid golden intentionâbut the end of it was hazy. How many times had Alex seen a stranger in the mirror and known he needed to get away from the military to find himself again behind his fatherâs shadow, and how many times had he made a different decision? How could he be sure this time would be different, that he wouldnât find reason after reason that Project Shepherd was a necessary evil, that with himself heading it, he was keeping his loved ones safe, working for the greater good, even if they didnât understandâall in the same uniform of generations, the uniform Michael could barely look at?
So, then, the other choice. Walk away. Let Fields call in Flint or promote some other career man to do what they would, set their traps, work in secret for the eradication of a threat that might never come at the expense of everything Alex held dear. No control, no insight, how many times would he have to fear the ultimate loss, Michael, dead, Maria, dead, their loved ones, dead, their accusing eyes on him.
The uniform laid to rest and packed away, a closed chapter in a life that still had so much living worth in it.
The music looped. Alexâs steady arm began to ache. He was running out of time.
âIt doesnât have to be like this,â Fields said, voice low and convincing past the jangling notes and Alexâs own pounding heartbeat. âThis work isnât just your legacy, itâs rewarding in its own right. Have you ever wanted to settle down, have a family? This offer comes with total security. No more moving around, way less following orders. Iâm sure your lover would appreciate it tooââ
That snapped Alex out of his frozen poise, the clanging dissonance making him snort. âMy lover? Youâre a little late with that one; we just broke up.â He dropped his gun hand. âHang up the phone. Hereâs your answer.â
âGo ahead.â
âThe answerâs no.â
Fieldsâs face turned down, but, true to her word, she pressed end call. Alex reholstered his gun.
âWell, I canât say Iâm not disappointed. I was looking forward to working with you. I hope you know what youâre doing.â
âI hope so too,â Alex replied, surprising even himself that heâd be that candid. But something about Fieldsâs demeanor diminished with the threat of Flint on hold, almost like sheâd pushed so hard because this was something she wanted, rather than something she was under orders to obtain.
Even with her phone silent, though, it represented the same thingâa direct line to Flint, an accessory to a job offer, putting someone with his track record highly placed to wreak havoc. But if Alex made all his decisions based on that fear, heâd never be free. Heâd spend the rest of his life running into airport bathrooms after strangers.
And maybe he would anyway. Refusing to let himself be intimidated this once wouldnât eradicate the real threat the aliens lived under every day. But allowing himself to live between those momentsâhe owed himself that much.
Shocking Alex further, Fields stuck out her hand, and he shook it.
âApologies if I was overzealous, sir. Iâve been told I need to work on my impulsivity.â
âItâsââ Alex let out a weak laugh. âWater under the bridge, Lieutenant. Whatâs with this change of attitude?â
She shrugged. âDisappointment, I guess. A little embarrassment that I waited so long for no payoff. But I wonât force the issues. My superiors have other options.â
There was a veiled threat in there, too, but Alex was too tired to force the issue either. For the second time today, he resigned himself to walking away from stalemate.
âGoodbye, Lieutenant,â he said, stepping aside to let her get to her car.
âGoodbye, Captain.â
The last Alex saw of her was the back of her head driving away. And when she disappeared into the heat haze, he collapsed back into a chair, muscles weak and vision swimming. He stuck his head between his knees and sucked in deep breaths until he landed back inside his body.
When he could stand again, he did, pointing his body toward the door and marching inside. The door was still locked: no sign of forced entry anywhere, not in the front or the back or any of the windows Alex checked methodically, sash, latch, frame. The safe and medicine cabinet were both untouched; he checked each twice; he opened every closet and cabinet door on autopilot. He got on the floor to check beneath both beds; he pulled back the shower curtains.
And when there were no more places to check, he stood in the center of his house, staring down his own cameras, trying to break through the walls his own brain put down around him, trying to regain control.
So on edge, Alex wheeled around seconds before a car screeched into the driveway, the pounding of feet, the scrape of a key in the lock and the door thrown open, andâ
âAlex!â Michael cried.
He bounded around the corner, wild-eyed and frantic, and as soon as he spotted Alex standing there, he rushed to him, arms already outstretched. Alex barely got his own arms up in time to catch him, but he didnât need to; Michael was enough for both of them, steady and strong and there, solid arms around Alex, almost lifting him an inch off his feet. His hands clutched at Alexâs back with a desperation that registered only dimly.
âAlex,â he breathed again, holding him, if possible, even closer, pressing their foreheads together and sucking in a deep shuddery breath. âYouâre okay, fuck, I was so scaredââ
âI told you to stay away,â Alex said weakly.
Michaelâs answering laugh was just as weak, almost hysterical. âYou know Iâm a rebel.â
They drifted like that for a minute or two, Michaelâs warm, soft-rough palms cradling Alexâs face, grounding the both of them, letting their souls settle. Then, he stepped back, those hands on Alexâs shoulders, holding him at armâs length.
âYouâre okay? Youâre not hurt? That phone callâyou scared the shit out of me, Alex, what the hell happened?â
âWhen I got home, Fields was waiting for me.â
âWhat? Fuck!â
âI freaked out, I had to make sure you were safe, that you stayed safeââ
âAre you safe? What did she want? What did she do?â
âIâm fine. Physically, Iâm fine,â Alex let his eyes fall shut, wrapping his hands around Michaelâs wrists, fragile bones in his grip, and he let Michael hold him, shutting off his senses.
âOkay. Okay, Alex. Iâve got you,â Michael rasped, pressing into him even closer.
âI told her no,â Alex blurted out, pressing right back, starting them swaying back and forth. There was no other way to get close enough but to push and pull, no matter how much they tried to meld themselves into one.
âWhat?â
âFields, IâI told her no. No Project Shepherd. No.â
âAlex.â
Michaelâs fingers sought across his face, stroking, feeling, calloused finger pads on his brows, his cheekbones, fit so gently against the line of his jaw, tracing his lips and the corners of his eyes, and then Michaelâs lips caressed him too, forehead, nose, then mouth, and by the time he was done, Alexâs breath hitched and his body shook.
âI love you,â Michael whispered. âI love you so much. You areâyou are so fucking strong, you know that? I know, I know how hard this is, but Iâm so proud of you.â
âI love you too,â Alex replied helplessly.
âItâs going to be okay, okay? Weâll figure it out.â
Somehow, Michael spoke with confidence, such a tiny, intimate assurance, no matter how unlikely, no matter how utopian, like a siren it sung to Alex to let go, to give his fear and stress over into Michaelâs hands, and he needed somewhere physical for that feeling to go, so he looped his arms loosely around Michaelâs neck and rested there.
âI donât know whatâs going to happen,â he admitted. âI donât know how bad I fucked upâI donât know how long she was here before I got backâthere was no sign of entry, and I checked the house, but I donât knowâI donât knowââ
âLetâs sit down, okay? Iâll get you something to drink, and your meds, if you want, and Iâll, uh, let me tell Max he can go homeâŠâ Michael said sheepishly.
âMax?â
âYeah, he was with me when you called and wasnât gonna let me rush over here by myself if there was trouble.â
âGood man,â Alex said weakly.
Moving stiff, he sat on the couch. Michael flitted around him for a second, adjusting pillows, giving him a blanket, fingers trailing over him like he wasnât quite willing to be out of armâs length. He tore himself away, though, and Alex tracked him from one end of the house to the other, front door, bathroom, kitchen, and when he came back to Alexâs side he was barefoot, glass of water and pill bottle in hand, and he sat on the floor below Alex, leaning back against him, folding himself so his forehead rested against Alexâs hip and Alex could rest his hand in Michaelâs hair.
âTheyâre not going to take you,â Alex promised. âNo matter what it takes, whether I told her yes or no, I wonât let them have you.â
âI know,â Michael replied. âBut I wonât let you give yourself up, either. Weâre together. In everything. No matter what happens.â
âNoââ
âThatâs why I didnât listen to you when you told me to stay away,â Michael explained, lifting his head enough to look Alex in the eye. He was as serious as Alex had ever seen him. âYou canât ask that of me. We stand together. ThatâsâŠthatâs a line in the sand, okay?â
Alex swallowed. âI canât promise I wonât say something like that again.â
âI know. But just understandâwhenever you do, Iâm gonna disobey.â
Alexâs eyes slipped shut, lips pressed together, riding out the fear, the straight shot of catastrophe in his brain. Michaelâs words, so clear and steady, so different from the people theyâd been, the places their relationship languished. Alex had to respect that, even knowing it would likely cause them to fight for the rest of their lives.
âI love you,â he repeated, the best acknowledgment he could give.
Michael smiled, crinkling the corners of his honey-sweet eyes, and Alex twisted a hand in the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward into a deep, sweeping kiss. He moved easy with every move of Alexâs, half-crouched to crawling up onto Alexâs thighs, then onto the couch to straddle his lap, his hot mouth driving deep against Alexâs. Alexâs hands went to his hair, gripping and tugging those soft curls, sliding down his back and back up, they made out on the couch like the teenagers they used to be.
Pulling back to breathe, but not so far Alex couldnât shift to kissing down his throat and chest, Michael panted, âBedroom? Do we wannaâshould we--?â
âUh,â Alex stalled out, the light from the window warm where it pooled, Michaelâs hardening cock warm where it pressed against Alexâs belly through their clothes. The world was out there, the camera, in the corner, and Alex weighed his options, immediate gratification versus comfort and privacy.
Did they have any privacy, anyway? The image of Fields waiting, alone, at his house, free reign to tamper with whatever she wanted, haunted the edges of Alexâs mind.
âAlex?â Michael asked softly, brushing his fingertips through the overlong ends of his hair.
Their faces were only inches apart, their breaths mingling between lips and lungs, and there wasnât anything Alex would let keep them from nurturing the happiness finally within their grasp.
âYes,â Alex said, palming Michaelâs hips, âYes, bedroom.â
Sliding off his lap, Michael reached out a hand, and Alex took it, heat zinging up his arm where they were joined. Michael led the way until they reached the bedroom, where he hesitated beside the bed, watching Alex under his lashes. So Alex sat, pulling him by his belt loops back to straddle his lap like he had on the couch, running his hands up and down Michaelâs body as he settled in, his own arms warm and solid around Alexâs neck.
The world held still, then, their eyes locked, electric and hypnotic, Alexâs hands twitching where they rested on Michaelâs strong thighs, the scent of rain sharp and sweet in his nose and mouth with every inhale, every breath made tactile in puffs of heat in the space between them. The longer the moment stretched, the higher the temperature climbed, blood filling Alexâs cheeks, blood filling his cock as he waited for Michaelâs next move.
That move was to lower his lips to Alexâs once again, slipping his hot, velvet tongue behind Alexâs lips and along his own tongue, flicking it against the roof of his mouth as he opened and relaxed into the languid kiss. As their mouths moved, so did Michaelâs hands, cupping his neck then sliding down his shoulders to his chest. He dragged his thumbnails across Alexâs nipples, making him gasp and hiss, and Alex could feel the wicked smirk spread across his mouth even as he didnât let up, nibbling his lower lip. Hips beginning to sway, Michaelâs hands finished their journey at Alexâs waist, under his shirt and tugging it upâit was unthinkable to separate them, but they managed to wrench their mouths apart long enough to pull Alexâs shirt over his headâand then back down, he fumbled with the button on Alexâs jeans, fighting for access to his hardening cock.
Not to be outpaced, Alex did the same, making short work of Michaelâs button and zipper even as he was distracted by the heat and velvet and texture of his chest and the sweet line of hair pointing down to his cock. Michael got up on his knees to shimmy his jeans down under his ass, tugging Alexâs off too, and when they were down to just the thin cotton of their underwear Michael let out a soft wavery sound, buzzing right into Alexâs mouth so he could taste the pleasure on it, frotting their cocks together, rubbing the weight of his body down against Alex. With every grind, his ass rolled against Alexâs thighs, a delicious tease, but not tonight, not tonight, it didnât have to be tonight, taking everything of each other, they had so much time to explore every facet of their intimacy, every way to make each other climax, complete, come up and down all on each other.
âCome on, Michael,â Alex murmured, holding his hips as he ground down again. âCâmon, câmon.â
âAlex,â Michael whispered back, all reverence.
âYouâre soâfuckingââ Beautiful, hot, incredible, amazing, all words that Alex didnât even need to say, saying would cheapen them, and they had a better language, anyway. He tugged at the waistband of Michaelâs boxers, and Michaelâs dick bobbed free, hard and hot and Alex wrapped a hand around it, luxuriating in the texture and weight of it in his hand. He gave it one easy, loose stroke and Michael shuddered, another little sound falling from his lips.
They got into a rhythm quickâMichael slid his hand into Alexâs underwear to match him stroke for stroke, their hips moving in time, knuckles brushing every time they came together. Alex rolled his thumb over Michaelâs slit and dragged the drop of precum collected down his vein, then let out a bitten-off cry when Michael did the same. Even the things Alex could predict were surprising at Michaelâs hands.
After minutes of this, after sweat slicked the pace between them, hearts pounding, senses flooded, Michael shifted even closer, chasing Alexâs hand away as it came up his shaft, so he could wrap them both up and jerk them together, fast and rough, both of them fucked Michaelâs hand and fucked against each other, Alexâs teeth on Michaelâs ear, Michaelâs lips against his cheek. Alex dug his nails into the meat of Michaelâs shoulders, riding out every wave of pleasure until finally he came in messy, artless spurts over Michaelâs hand.
Michael followed shortly behind, a stuttering moan and a pulse of pleasure, and then they both fell back onto the mattress, panting and laughing. They rolled toward each other like magnets, Michael slipping a leg between Alexâs thighs.
âItâs going to be okay,â Michael promised, serenity and certainty in every line of his face, and Alex sighed, pulling his hand to his chest and holding it there.
Michael couldnât make that promise. Alex couldnât make that promise. He had, before, and the universe turned it into a cruel joke. Believing it now would be a hard-fought battle.
âAs long as weâre together, weâll get through it,â Michael amended, and it drew a small smile to Alexâs face.
âIâll do everything I can.â
âI know you will. But you donât have to do it alone. You arenât doing it alone.â
Alex answered him with another kiss, sealing it as truth between them.
 (Thursday, 07:00)
Michael watched Alex through one lovely tawny eye as he went through the room double-checking there was no stray shirt of Forrestâs or toy of Buffyâs to collect before he made his last trip to the Long farm, to put paid to his and Forrestâs relationship once and for all.
âItâs early,â he said muzzily, through lips still mashed to the sheets warm with his sleep.
âI donât want to keep this waiting,â Alex said with a wave of his hand, grabbing the bag of Forrestâs things. âNot while I have the day off. Get this done, then get back with plenty of time to prepare for our meeting.â
âMmm, so efficient.â
âI do my best,â Alex said, hoping it came off as charming. âWhat are you up to today?â
Raising himself up on his hands, Michael arched his back in a luxurious stretch, muscles shifting in the early morning sun. He groaned as his muscles clenched and released and a couple joints popped, then said in his sweet early-morning rasp, âI should put in a couple hours at Sandersâs. Do we know everyone is coming today? Should I cut out early and meet you back here, or will you guys just be coming to the junkyard anyway?â
âIâll touch base with everyone, but weâll probably come to you.â
âSounds good.â Michael stretched again, then swung his legs around to sit on the bed. One side of his face was flushed, one side of his curls scrunched. A bubble of light filled up Alexâs chest, and he cradled it so carefully, letting it show on his face, just for Michael.
Smiling back at him and rubbing one eye, Michael gestured at the bag of Forrestâs things and said, âHow are you feeling? You okay?â
âIâm fine,â Alex replied, shifting the strap on his shoulder. Then, jaw working his face into a grimace, he added, âAnd thatâs weird, right? I shouldnât be fine? We dated for monthsâI should feel something.â
For weeks after his breakup with Maria, Michael had lurked on the edges of himself, head tucked between his shoulders, hands in his pockets. And now Alex turned his back with one last box on a to-do list, a final chore of separation. What did that make him?
âHey,â Michael said, beckoning Alex forward and sliding his hands to cup his hips when he came. âLook, I donât have a lot of experience in this area either, but enough with the should, okay? The only feelings you gotta feel are your own. You deal with breaking up however you need to, and so will Forrest.â
Alex took a measured breath, counting in, counting out. âYouâre right. Thank you.â
âNo thanks necessary,â Michael said, kissing him softly right on his sternum, above his anxious heart. âIâll see you later, yeah?â
âYeah.â
Alex left a parting kiss on Michaelâs forehead and left him to get dressed and get to work. Making the drive to the Long farm for a second time in as many days was even more alien than the first; had he ever gone to Forrestâs so frequently as now, at the end?
The only feelings you gotta feel are your own, Michael said, with the wisdom of many years of terrible feeling, so as he drove, Alex did just that. One of the last sweet moments of their relationship was in a car just like this, playlist on the speakers half indie, half punk, both of them singing along to Pretty. Odd., where the two intersected, an album neither of them liked all that much in isolation but belted out together. For the rest of their lives, whenever those songs came on, for a moment theyâd be back in a car together; wherever Forrest went next, in little three-minute bursts his phone would carry a dark desert road with Alex beside him.
For the rest of the drive, Alex turned on his music and let it play.
When he got to the farm and called Forrest, he came out of the house harried. âWhy did I think you were bringing this stuff tomorrow?â he asked, a scowl on his face.
âIâm not sure; I had the day off and I thoughtââ
âWhatever. Thanks.â
A snappish retort leapt easily to Alexâs mind, but he held back. Forrest had reason enough to be mad, and if this was how he felt his feelings, they were broken up nowâAlex abdicated soothing and fixing, and heâd take Forrestâs anger on the chin.
Forrestâs eyes darted toward Wyattâs truck parked on the dirt drive beside Alex and said, âYou should get out of here. Have a good life, Alex. I mean that.â
And just like that, Alexâs mind flipped and he couldnât help himself. âIf Wyatt isââ
âNo, no, heâs mostly harmless. To me, anyway. But him seeing you here would be more trouble than itâs worth, so.â Forrest shouldered the bag of his things and half-turned away. âBye.â
Alex didnât move until Forrest disappeared back inside, gripping the steering wheel too tight until his fingers went cold and stiff. Fuck, maybe he should have waited to return this stuff, or just ditched it; all the closure from their last conversation soured on the tongue. But it was over now. Alex threw the car in reverse.
Then he threw it back into park a few yards down the lane, just out of sight of the main house. Wyatt was always more trouble than he was worth, but something was wrong in Forrestâs tone, and Alex would find out what. He had time, at least an hour, to sweep Wyattâs most likely haunts, from the horse barn to his rigged-up shooting range.
Head on a swivel, Alex moved methodically, hot and dusty within minutes. The barn bustled with activity, so Alex gave it a wide berth, abandoning it as an option with no sign of Wyattâs dulcet tones cutting through the air.
His mental map of the farm was imperfect at best, so Alex headed to the shooting range by way of the old barn, despite the distance out of his way, an acceptable risk when compared to the prospect of getting lost.
There was no time to linger, but the sight of the old building and fallen tree struck Alex with twin nostalgia and grief. Trippâs dog tags hung body-hot beneath his shirt, and he let them, closing his eyes and focusing on that feeling, the chain around his neck, the weight of decades of inaction. He drifted closer to the barn, like returning Trippâs tags to this place had some sort of meaning, whether blessing or blasphemy, Alex wasnât sure.
He was still too far away to smell the rain burnt into the wood. Would it have smelled the same in Trippâs time, rich and loving?
Alex hoped not.
Just as he turned to leave on that sour thought, a familiar voice drifted from inside the barn, freezing Alex in his tracks.
âIâm asking you againâare youâor not?â
What was Max doing here?
Alex crept closer. The response was clearer and came from Wyatt, loud and protesting.
âHow are you even asking that right now? Iâve been doing all the shit you tell me for months, you gotta give me some quid pro quoââ
The last three words were a mocking drawl.
The response came, âEverything Iâve told you will come to pass, Mr. Long. Nowâs not the time for doubters.â
That wasnât Max. Alexâs heart pounded in his throat.
âTsch. Whatever.â
âYouâve come far, Mr. Long. And, as always, I appreciate your talent for gathering information. Your eyes within the town are indispensable.â
âOh yeah?â
âAnd you will be duly rewarded: doubly so for patience. Time is of the essence; I have to move while Manes is awayââ
The sound of his name flashed hot and sharp through Alexâs frozen body, every nerve coming to life and screaming one thing: home.
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Forget Me Not Teaser | KNJ
pairing: kim namjoon x female reader
genre: smut, slight angst, some crack maybe?
au: exes to lovers, valentineâs day
rating: explicit, nsfw, 18+
teaser word count: 400ish (unedited)
final word count: TBD
warnings: slight angst, assumed cheating, alcohol consumption, dry humping, some heavy petting, heated make out sessions, daddy kink, bratty reader, dom namjoon, cocksleeve kink, use of sex toys (vibrator), unprotected sex, condom got lost in the mail, cream pie, oral sex (m & f), blowjob, fingering, squirting, pussy slapping, namjoon got a big olâ cock, nipple biting, marking, orgasm denial, orgasm control, some gently choking
Posting: Wednesday, February 10th â> read it here
a/n: this will be my first collab and my first official posted smut oneshot. banner made by @kimtaehyunqâ Thank you, Maggie, for recruiting me to be a part of this valentineâs day collab! I love you lots. *smooches*
this is a part of the be my bangtanvine collab!
excerpt:Â Â âIâm sorry, Joonie,â you say to him as you take a step closer, leaning in with your hand on his chest to give him a quick kiss. He turns away from you just slightly, jaw still clenched as you place a small peck on his cheek. You feel terrible, knowing you should have given him the benefit of the doubt that he wasnât reverting back to his old ways. That he was really trying to prove to you that he changed. You place another kiss on his cheek, following it up with a few quick kisses on his neck that you feel make him shiver. Your lips twitch up into a smile, knowing youâre breaking through his cold demeanor.Â
Suddenly, an idea pops into your head. A name he loved that you called him, one that you used to your favor to help get you out of trouble. You make your way up to his ear, nibbling on it just slightly before you whisper seductively, âIâm sorry, Daddy.â
You feel his body stiffen as you trail your hand down his chest and down to the front of his jeans. Your palm barely grazes his growing bulge when he grabs your wrist in his hand, snatching it away from him causing you to back away in surprise. He wraps his other arm around you, his other hand pressing at the small of your back to keep you close to him. Your eyes flicker to his and you let out a small gasp as you meet his hooded gaze. You barely notice the smirk he gives as he leans in towards your ear.Â
âOh, no baby. It seems like someone has forgotten her manners.â The deep timber of his voice sends shivers down your spine, straight to your core. You feel the wetness of your arousal leaking from you and you involuntarily rub your thighs together to try and find some relief as he continues the seductive assault on your ear. âOnly good girls get to call me Daddy. Disobedient little brats call me Mr. Kim.â He pulls back just slightly away from you, his dark eyes meeting your gaze once again. âNow what do you have to say for yourself?â
You cock your head to the side, licking your lips before you give him the most innocent smile. âI am so, so sorry, Mr. Kim.â
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wip on this wednesday.
tagged by @shallow-gravy and @scungilliwoman to share a wip! just posted new wildfire yesterday so sharing a few more excerpts from the pre-reaping au i decided to extend in my spare time and hopefully will get off my ass and finish sometime this week.
below cut and second excerpt is NSFW, so warning for that and repeated crimes against Mary May.
sending tags to @consumedkings @vasiktomis (i know you just posted a chapter too but if you have more i will take it) @clairercdfields @stacispratt @chyrstis @lilwritingraven <3
jestiny "as successfully opaque as the glass she's holding" rook
âHey Mary May,â she greeted as she slid up to the bar, âCan I get two glasses of the house red?â
The blonde cocked her eyebrow a little at her as she turned around and leaned a hand against the bar. âSure,â she said, âThatâll be $16.29.â
Jessie furrowed her own brow a little as she did the math in her head. âBut the happy hour price says ââ
âFive dollars a glass, yup,â she finished, âPlus tax, and what you owe for last week. When you ran out without paying.â
âOh, right,â Jessie acknowledged apologetically. âSorry âbout that.â She paused a moment, swinging her feet nervously in the chair. âSay, speaking of which, I donât guess thereâs any chance Mr. Bible Thumper has already made his rounds and left for the evening?â
âYou would not be so lucky,â the blonde responded, sitting two glasses of wine on the counter. âShould be here any minute now.â
âDamn,â Jessie remarked, sitting a twenty dollar bill on the bar and picking up the glasses, âWell, keep the change, put it on my tab for the night, Iâll probably need more of these,â she joked with a shrug as she turned to head back towards her table.
âJessie, the change is only three ââ
The bartenderâs voice was drowned out by the general clamor of busy conversation as she snaked through the crowd to find the table Joey had claimed.
and more lies, this time with spice
"Not every fuckin' thing is about you," she hissed as she leaned down so their faces met, nose to nose, swallowed a moan as his fingers sunk deeper inside her from the shifting. "You are," he curled them along her insides as she spoke, making her arch to press against them, "You are an extremely difficult person."
Something she hadn't seen before seemed to flicker across his face at that, for a brief heartbeat, his eyes blinking a little too hard while the rest of his face stayed blank, making her suddenly feel the strange urge to apologize for something. But she didn't know for what or how even if she wanted to, so she rested a palm atop his heart instead, rocking against his fingers to the beat.
"You aren't?" he finally mirrored her accusations back to her as a question again, a little too soft, that hint of something she didn't like.
"I am," she responded simply this time.
And that seemed to quell whatever that unsettling feeling hanging in the air was, made him lean forward to kiss her, grip the back of her neck with his free hand to move hungry against her mouth.
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jatp fanworks appreciation - day 3 (wips)
wip wednesday - I didnât think I wanted to join in on this day for my own stuff considering Iâve never posted anything original for this fandom, but I think this might just be the little boost I need from myself to actually finish the wips that I have sitting around. I am peer pressuring myself and holding myself accountable by posting this - or at least thatâs what Iâm telling myself. Most of the past 6 mths has just been me screaming to no one in a Google Doc, so here are some things Iâve been ruminating about over the last 6 months (and if my secret agenda is to get other people to write about it so I donât have to? Then thatâs between you and me).
Everythingâs under a read more because I like giving context and that usually spirals out of control!?!?
If you would like to see more from any of the below, feel free to shoot me an ask/message and I can definitely share some more! (Or you can just come yell at me about JATP in general.)
Strangers Fake Dating AU // Julie x Luke
Iâm a simple person. I see a prompt, I latch onto it, and then I completely miss the entire point of the prompt as my imagination goes wild for no real reason. This really was supposed to be a super short drabble, but it manifested into a 3k+ thing that isnât even finished.
Julieâs not really sure what sheâs supposed to do now. Nothing has ever prepared her for a situation in which sheâs supposed to pretend to be a strangerâs girlfriend, especially if that situation involves parents. Does she continue this ruse? Can she come up with a quick enough excuse to tell this Luke character that she actually canât stay? What if this is just all an elaborate plan to kidnap her? Has she been listening to too many true crime podcasts? Why does Luke smell so good? Does he know how to cook? Why does his shirt not have sleeves? What-
âI can hear you thinking from here.â Her head whips up at the sound of Lukeâs voice, which is now at a whisper and kind of frantic. âI just- I just really needed to get my mom off my back, so I kinda need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for the night. I swear Iâll make it up to you somehow.â
Julie studies Lukeâs face and itâs nearly impossible to not cave under his gaze, which can only be simply described as âpuppy dog eyesâ. She finds herself smiling back, letting out a huff, âI hope you like lasagna.â And the grin that spreads across the boyâs face is enough for her to know that heâs incredibly relieved that she agreed.
âIâm Luke by the way. Luke Patterson.â
(Okay, heâs kinda cute. And no one this cute is a serial killer. Right?)
She gives a small smile back, âIâm Julie.â
//
5+1 alive!Juke AU // Julie x Luke
Inspired by paper - LANY
This is one of the first things I ever felt the urge to write down back in September because I love exploring the idea of how two people can appear to be the perfect relationship on the outside, but are actually fighting their own demons. Especially when it comes to celebrities and people who are in the spotlight. Itâs basically a 5+1 fic about the moments from other peopleâs perspectives who happen to orbit around Julie/Luke that all revolve around paper. My outline for this is so long because I canât manage to narrow it down, and thereâs zero cohesiveness but I do have little things jotted down.
âHey little man,â Lukeâs knelt down to match his 5 year-old height, and a hand extends out to him for a high five, âWhat are you doing here?â
His eyes flicker to the left, towards his own apartment door, where his mom is giving him an encouraging nod. â I- I just wanted to-â he stutters and finds himself looking at his feet as he shuffles back and forth on the spot. âI- I drew you guys something!â
He shoves the paper out towards the older boy in front of him, but doesnât look up.
//
Reincarnation AU // Julie x Luke
I had a random thought in December about how magical it is that Julie and Luke are so tied to one another that their love transcends time and space, which will always lead them back to one another. I remember reading a book a long time ago about how the main character is fated to die at a certain age, and that kind of sparked this little idea. I canât bring myself to actually plot out every single timeline right now, but I did manage to write a little bit.
It will never be as complex as Rosieâs idea and all the wonderful additions in the link here, and I donât really plan on it being anything more than a small idea. But I really do still think someone should write some sort of reincarnation AU cause Iâd hop on that so fast!!
âOkay- thatâs not- Luke. You seriously just ran away?â
âWhat was I supposed to do Alex? We all know how this ends.â
His friend looks at him, face painted in understanding and he sighs, âYeah. Yeah, we do.â
Because itâs true, Alex does know, so does Reggie and Bobby. Most importantly, so does Luke. Itâs the exact same tragic love story every time.
Call it a curse or fate or destiny. Maybe itâs because Mercury is in retrograde. Whatever. It always ends the same way - with a heartbreaking goodbye, a whisper of the promise that theyâll find each other again, and the possibility of a happy ending. Heâs said the same goodbye at least 734 times, but itâs not like heâs counting or anything. Fuck the universe and its mystical ways.
//
Competitive Alex // Alex x Willie
No real thoughts or reasons for this other than I just think I self-projected my need to play board games with people in real life into a fic. And maybe a little bit of my competitiveness onto Alex and then threw in Willie because I think he would be able to handle it while also finding it endearing. I also have written nothing about the actual competitiveness, itâs just 2k words of Alex crushing on Willie.
âWait,â his eyes dart between the three boys, âYou both know Willie? How come Iâve never met him?â
His roommates look at each other, and thereâs a smirk on Lukeâs face when he says, âActually Alex, I think you have. Remember that time you got really drunk after one of our shows?â
Oh no. He really hopes that itâs not the time heâs thinking of, so he tries to sound nonchalant. âYouâre going to have to be more specific, Luke.â
âThe night we played at that tiny bar at the edge of the campus! We got paid in those tiny colourful shots?â He doesnât really know where Luke is going with this, so heâs slowly nodding along. âAnd you were super upset that the hot dog vendor at the end of the street was closed?â
//
Dear Julie, Love Mom series
I made myself sad with this thought when I first watched the show and was talking to my friend about how I think that Rose wouldâve left messages for the Molina family, especially when we found out that Wake Up was actually from her mom. I wrote a bigger explanation for it here.
Anyways, I started with the one for Julieâs wedding and it kind of became an 8k monster with three different POVs?!? As much as I love how I wrote this, I feel too unsure about my writing to share it in full, so you will get carefully selected looks alkfe. (Iâm also kind of stuck on some of the more emotional scenes and I may or may not have procrastinated by photoshopping a moodboard for it.)
Excerpt 1 (Julie POV): A look into where Iâm going with this whole letters from Rose thing.
The key clicks into place, and with a turn, the latch falls open. Sheâs not sure what she wants to find in the box, and sheâs too scared to think about it really. All she knows is that this was the sign from her mom that she was waiting for all week, and in true Rose fashion, her mom had managed to give it to her, even if at the last second. Her dad turns the box to face Julie, and gestures to her to open up the lid.
Tucked inside is a VHS tape, the words âFor Julie, on your wedding dayâ written in her momâs cursive on the cover. Some loose glitter and confetti fall back into the box as she reaches in to pick up the tape and turn it over in her hands. Thereâs a little purple butterfly etched on the back, the same one thatâs been drawn on all the other messages that her mom had left her. Her finger automatically finds its way, tracing the shape of the small doodle.
âDo you want me to leave you alone, mija?â
Excerpt 2 (Julie POV): This part has absolutely nothing to do with the main plot of the story, but it self-inserted itself into this fic after @tangledstarlight and I talked about Youâre Still the One by Shania Twain being their first dance. This whole scene came to me at 4am one night and might be the most self-indulgent thing Iâve ever written.
They knew that when they had asked Reggie to be in charge of the first dance performance, that they (and Alex) werenât allowed to veto any of his ideas. Luke had warned Julie that that would be a mistake, but the giddiness that radiated off of Reggie when she had told him he could have free reign was worth it. She just hadnât thought that he would actually take it to heart and run with it.
Sure, they had chosen Youâre Still the One by Shania Twain as their first dance song, and sure it was more or less a country song, but she didnât really imagine that sheâd be staring at her adoptive brother, Carlos and her Dad wearing cowboy hats and boots at her wedding. They had somehow managed to ditch their Flynn-approved suit jackets and were sporting a taupe-coloured suede-textured vest over their dress shirts. If she looked closely, she could see that they had somehow also found some gaudy looking bolo ties with a matching set of ornamental clasps to wear. When she envisioned her wedding, she really didnât expect that her first (public) dance as a married couple would be a full-on Western themed occasion. The only exception was Alex, who had settled on his cajon in the back, still in his pink suit, eyes rolling when she met his gaze. But even she knew how there was no real annoyance in the blondeâs reaction or else he wouldnât also be wearing one of the tacky ties around his neck as well.
âIâm gonna seriously kill him.â She hears Luke grumble under his breath, only low enough for her to hear. But sheâs still too busy giggling to actually be mad, and she knows that Luke isnât really going to kill Reggie. At least she doesnât think so.
Excerpt 3 (Luke POV): Idk man. My mind went âWhat about Luke?â and I said âYouâre right!! What about him?!?â
He doesnât realize that heâs just been silently staring at the woman in front of him, until a gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts. âWhy are you looking at me like that?â Julieâs peering at him from under her eyelashes, a curious look on her face.
âYou just-â he gives a little shake of his head, trying to come up with the right words. He wants to tell her sheâs beautiful. Stunning. A wicked beauty. But sheâs more than that - sheâs almost angelic. âI canât believe youâre my wife.â
âLuke, weâve been legally married for like, a whole year.â Her lips are quirked up in a grin, amusement in her voice. âYouâve only just realized that now?â
âThatâs different.â
âYeah? Different how?â
This feels a little strange to post and a little like my inner self seeking validation but letâs not talk about that.
Kskssj anyways present me @ future me: finish one of these because writing has been really cathartic for you and you didnât think it would bring you so much joy!!!
#gotta tag this so that it doesnt ever show up in any tags on tumblr.#i like that what got me to post about my writing was a fanworks appreciation week. but i will say that a couple weeks ago when i was feeling#extra good about my writing. i made a promise to myself to post smthg for the 6 mth mark of jatp and that kinda got backtracked because of#my requirements to be an adult and my general insecurities about putting out content that is mine for the works to judge sjsjsj#so this is me making it up to myself by sharing some things.#thank you rosie for indulging me in my ramblings. youâve really given me confidence in my work even tho youâve never read anything of mine.#just know I APPRECIATE YOU A LOT!!!!#i hope you dont mind that i tagged you!!!#anyways this is gonna get thrown into my queue for wednesday and whenever it posts is whenever it will post.#i also typed this on my phone (i DO NOT RECOMMEND IT) so sorry if the formatting is janky. i didnt wanna give myself time to second guess#myself and end up not posting it. sjjs#jatp fanworks appreciation week#sometimes i write#personal#<- need to come up with tags for myself welp#sunset queue
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