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libbytwq · 2 months ago

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The Usual (part 1)

an SMGL:E x Karen fic

part 2 (N/A) part 3 (N/A)

-♡♡♡-

SMGL:E stepped into the McDonald's, as they did every afternoon at roughly around the same time, wearing a cocky grin on her face as they step up to the counter.

Sure, McDonald's was great, but there was only one real reason why they show up at that McDonald's every single day without fail, and that reason was right behind the counter, with tired eyes and cat ears.

Karen, the single mother and one of the two workers at the establishment, stood behind the counter, and upon seeing SMGL:E, chuckled softly in amusement.

SMGL:E found Karen to be an interesting individual. She was sharp and had an attitude, but wasn't unkind. In fact, Karen has never once been mean to them. And that was what drew SMGL:E closer to her.

Sure, the day they met her, she was obviously faking kindness to them to make sure they don't lose a customer, but even then, it wasn't like she was mean or hateful or anything. And customer service kindness is better than no kindness at all. It was more kindness than they've gotten before while in the Mushroom Kingdom, so he'll take what he can get.

SMGL:E grins and strolls over to the counter, with a cocky and playful attitude. They lean their hand on the counter and look down at Karen, who is a little shorter than her. Karen looks up at SMGL:E and their eyes meet.

SMGL:E can already feel their cocky attitude begin to crumble. How did Karen manage to be able to do that?! Always manage to make SMGL:E fall hard...

She was determined to not fall in love with her, but goddamn, it was difficult... Karen has always been so chill and wonderful to talk to, it's hard not to be smitten...

SMGL:E tries her damn hardest to not let Karen falter their stride today. SMGL:E would just order the usual.

"Heyyyy, Karen..." SMGL:E said, flashing a yellow fanged smile down at the feline cashier.

Karen chuckled softly. She seemed to be used to SMGL:E's shenanigans by now, and wasn't intimidated by their appearance in any way. Although, Karen was never intimidated by her to begin with.

"Fancy seeing you here, L:E..." Karen said, smirking softly and looking down at her cash register. "Lemme guess... you want the usual, right? 10 piece chicken nuggets with a small fry, and a small Coke?"

SMGL:E grins and nods. Their tanuki tail swishes for a moment and their ear flicks, making her large pearl earring jingle a little bit. This was the exact meal that SMGL:E has ordered every time they stepped into the McDonald's, for a few months now.

"You know me so well," he says playfully. "You forgot something, though."

Karen rolls her eyes playfully, knowing what was coming next.

For the past month or so, it had been an ongoing habit for SMGL:E to ask Karen out for a date, and it was also a recurring thing for Karen to decline. Neither's feelings were hurt or anything, but SMGL:E had been doing it so often that it would feel weird if they didn't do it when they came in and ordered food. It was sort of an unspoken tradition the two had kinda gotten used to. An inside joke, even.

SMGL:E grinned and playfully leaned closer across the counter resting an elbow on the countertop and resting their chin in their palm.

"How about a nice date?" she says, their tone a little quieter, but still very much playful. Her tail swishes behind them.

Karen looks into SMGL:E's three eyes and grins softly, silent for a moment longer than usual. She glances at SMGL:E's lips for a moment, then back to their eyes, before shrugging.

"You know what? I'll change it up a bit. Sure. Why not."

SMGL:E double takes, before his eyes widen and he stands upright, stunned.

Did...

Did he just hear that right?

"Wait, huh?-"

Karen chuckles at SMGL:E's stunned reaction.

"Yeah, I mean... I get off work a little earlier than usual today... my kids are gonna be at a sleepover, so I won't have to worry about them too hard... we could absolutely go on a date."

SMGL:E stares at Karen, stunned. Time seems to slow down. It almost felt like SMGL:E and Karen were the only two people in the world for a moment.

Eventually, SMGL:E gets a grip on reality after a moment, and grins flusteredly. Their confident demeanor has completely diminished, and a purple blush has risen to her cheeks.

"...Really?" SMGL:E finally says after a moment.

Karen chuckles softly and nods. SMGL:E cool and confident demeanor seemed to diminish instantly, and that was almost amusing to her.

"Yeah, why not?" Karen said, chuckling. "Could be fun."

SMGL:E blushes madly and glances away.

...No way.

The single mother cashier cat that SMGL:E's been hitting on half-jokingly-half-not for the past couple months has just accepted their half-joking-half-not date invitation.

...Why did they feel so nervous all of a sudden? She's never felt this nervous before. Normally he's so confident, so cool, so evil... this is different...

SMGL:E realized that she may or may not have been quiet for a millisecond too long and quickly clears their throat.

"U-Uh- ...O-Okay. Cool. Uh. Nice. Thumbs up."

Karen's ear flicked. She smiled and chuckled softly.

...She was so pretty.

"Heh. Well, where did you want to go?"

"Huh?"

"Well, you asked me. Did you have something in mind of somewhere to go?"

"...A-Ah."

SMGL:E had not thought that far.

"Uh. Maybe... uh... well. Heh. Uh-"

"You don't have a place in mind, do you?" Karen cuts her off, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

SMGL:E sighs. No use hiding it.

"...Yeah."

Karen snickers and thinks for a moment.

"...Maybe someplace simple. Your place, maybe?"

SMGL:E chuckles nervously.

"Uh, I technically don't have a place... I kinda crash over at someone else's place, I don't really have my own place..." SMGL:E says, fidgeting their hands together nervously.

Karen snickers softly.

"...What about my place?"

SMGL:E pauses and looks up at Karen.

"Really? Your place?"

"Yeah", said Karen, shrugging and smiling. "My kiddos aren't gonna be home for a while. You could hang out for a few hours. Maybe eat some dinner. How's that sound?"

SMGL:E blushes and their three eyes sparkle.

"...Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great-"

"OY!"

SMGL:E and Karen are both jolted out of their conversation as they hear Karen's middle manager call out at Karen. The tall, low-poly man with a mustache appeared from the McDonald's kitchen entrance and began shouting at Karen in a strange text to speech voice. SMGL:E thinks his name was Swag? Odd name.

"What are you doing?? You got a job to do! Get back to work!"

Karen rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Yes, Swag... on it..."

SMGL:E watched as Karen begrudgingly walked into the kitchen, but not before she gave SMGL:E one last glance, and one last small smile before she disappeared in the kitchen to ready his order.

After a few minutes, Karen came back with SMGL:E's 10 piece chicken nuggets and small fry in a bag, and a small Coke in a cup. She handed SMGL:E the order from across the counter as SMGL:E handed her the money.

Karen smiled at SMGL:E, making their heart skip a beat.

"I get off work at 6:30. Come over to my place at 7?"

SMGL:E blushes and nods flusteredly.

"Yeah... sounds good... where's your address?"

"What's your phone number?"

SMGL:E said her phone number aloud as Karen typed it into her phone, then she proceeded to text them the address.

Karen smiled and looked up at SMGL:E.

"Don't be late."

SMGL:E blushes and nods, speechless and flustered. They give a nervous smile to Karen and quickly leaves the McDonald's with their food.

A date!

With a girl!

As far back as SMGL:E can remember, which isn't very far, considering she remembers nothing from before her Guardian pod crash landed into the Mushroom kingdom, SMGL:E has never dated anyone before.

They begin to whimsically walk back home, sipping her cup of Coca Cola, before three little whisps of light and color whizz by their hair. A teal one, a blue one, and a pink one.

SMGL:E sighs. These little whisps were not unfamiliar, in fact they were a common occurrence. They used to freak her out, but at this point, they felt more like an inconvenience.

SMGL:E rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the little sparkles, before suddenly the pink sparkle caught them off guard, with strange hieroglyphic looking letters appearing in front of her.

SMGL:E furrowed their brows and stared at the strange letters. They looked foreign, yet familiar. Yet for some reason, their mind wouldn't let her figure out what the words meant.

They rolled their eyes and continued trying to walk back home, or what she considered home -- SMG1 and SMG2's place. SMGL:E just got a date -- they can't focus on whatever these stupid spectral sparkles right now.

The sparkles kept encircling her no matter how much SMGL:E tried to swat them away.

The pink sparkle showed up again and tried to get in front of SMGL:E's face, trying to get their attention.

More hieroglyphics appeared.

SMGL:E groaned and began to walk faster, away from... whatever these strange symbols were. They looked like some kind of letters, that's for certain. But what did it say?

SMGL:E didn't know, and SMGL:E didn't care.

The pink sparkle just couldn't let SMGL:E rest, it seemed.

SMGL:E audibly groaned again.

"You stupid... sparkles... things... please don't fuck with my good day..."

The blue, teal, and pink sparkles stopped whizzing around him for a moment, before the pink one whizzed around and formed more goddamn hieroglyphics.

SMGL:E sighs. These stupid hieroglyphics were gonna mess with her head if they kept up with this.

It was one thing to hear voices or see things, but it's another to see another language you can't understand.

SMGL:E continued walking on, as the sparkles slowly faded away, first the teal, then the blue, and finally the pink one, but not before the pink one created a few more hieroglyphics before disappearing.

SMGL:E sighed and continued walking onward with their McDonald's meal.

They had a date to get ready for.

She can worry about this shit later.

-♡♡♡-

end of part 1

#hoooo i love writing #my writing #smgl:e #smg4 #original character #my ocs #smgl:e x karen #smgloren #smg4 oc #smg4 karen #smg4 ocs #smg4 fanfic #oneshot

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pedroshotwifey · 1 year ago

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Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended.

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be.

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person.

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look.

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left.

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth.

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say.

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more.

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point. “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil.

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now.

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion.

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure.

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering.

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway.

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner.

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here.

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member.

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway.

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath.

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything.

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now.

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it.

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body.

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say.

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze.

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room.

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now.

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way.

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking.

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen.

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw.

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin.

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to.

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too. Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone.

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way.

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it.

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole.

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem.

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now.

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them.

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening.

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out.

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame.

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you.

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time.

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place.

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own.

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing.

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak.

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you.

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again.

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you.

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer.

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side.

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds.

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth.

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh.

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him.

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right.

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want.

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat.

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises.

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver.

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too.

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down.

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back.

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it.

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you.

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants.

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust.

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst.

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace.

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy.

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust.

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through.

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls.

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it.

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request. If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt.

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace.

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt.

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you.

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure.

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly.

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling.

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking.

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle.

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation.

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack.

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that.

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side.

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek.

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear.

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck.

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter.

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.” If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point?

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer.

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout.

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs.

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm.

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself.

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body.

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back.

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him.

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open.

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut.

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone.

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello.

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit.

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising.

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle.

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here

#joel miller #fan fiction #pedro pascal #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #bless this mess #the last of us #tlou #we likey?#exhibition kink #enemies to lovers #dark!joel miller

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nyxxxx-onepieces-dragun · 1 year ago

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Sweet promises~

A/N: I was listening to chase atlantic so this is for my Tokrev girlies buckle up for some angst that even had me in tears while writing this, sorry if it seems a little rushed this fic was a "there but it'll be gone before you write it" kinda thought but enjoy lovelies <3

Characters: Mikey x Fem!reader and mentions of other characters, if this one does well I'll consider making one for my sweet Izana ;3

Scenario: you went with Mikey to one of his meetings with Toman only for them to be ambushed and you to be stupid enough to take a bullet for Him <3

Toman!MIKEY: "I'd do it all again knowing I'd end up here, with you."

You should have listened. you knew deep in your gut something was wrong and yet, you still went anyways because you wanted to spend more time with Mikey. Even Mikey said to stay back because this was one of Toman's emergency meetings and they were dealing with serious matters. But no, being as stubborn as you were you insisted demanded you go, now here you were laid on the cold hard cement as red liquid oozed from your non-breathing chest. It all happened so fast, one moment everything was fine, the next Toman members were fighting left and right against what seemed to be adult gang members, probably Yakuza, and Mikey was shielding you fighting off anyone who came his was before you saw from behind his shoulder one of the Yakuza men stand a little to close to the steps pull something from his jacket, it was silver and gleemed in the moonlight, you knew exactly what it was and your instincts betrayed your logic, before you knew it you were right infront of Mikey shielding him from the fate that was now yours, the sound of a deafening gunshot rang out throughout the shrine and everything went dead silent. You closed your eyes awaiting the arrival of the bullet before a agonizing pain hit your chest close to your heart, the impact of the bullet sent you flying to the cold ground beneath you, a shocked and screaming Mikey quickly falling to his knees to catch your head before it hit the ground. "Y/N! no no... Y/N please stay with me!" he yelled keeping your head up as you coughed deep red splattering upward from your lips the pain was unbearable but you were too focused on the panicking and yelling Mikey above you, your vision going in and out the ringing in your ears never subsiding. "M...Mikey-" you sputter coughing as more blood painted your paling lips tears trickling down the sides of your face, "Y/N I'm right here its okay..." he says softly as his shaky hand reaches over to the bullet wound that now decorated your delicate chest. "Your gonna be fine..I promise please-" he said in a wavering voice as he applied pressure to the wound trying to get the bleeding to stop as thick tears ran down his face, the fight was still ongoing in the background but Takemitchi, Draken, and Mitsuya stood around you and Mikey watching in shock as your face gets paler by the second. Mikey mumbling over and over again "your going to be okay". before your hand that was stained red shakily and weakly grabbed his hand that was on your chest he looked at you with wide eyes, those eyes you fell in love with long ago but it felt like yesterday, his blonde hair flowing through the cold breeze and you remember how good it felt to run your fingers through his blonde locks. "I love you..." you mutter and he violently shakes his head "No! don't say that! your going to make it I promise,-" he choked out a sob "I promised to protect you" he managed to say through tears determination and sadness lacing his raven eyes, as you weakly shook your head feeling the life draining from your own body, "NO! WHY DID YOU TAKE THE BULLET!?" he shouted a mix of emotions in his quavering voice. "Mikey please... don't cry..Thank you for being...with me..-" you say, your voice hoarse and thick your throat burned as you mustered up one last bright smile that Mikey burned into his brain, and your vision blurred before everything went dark the last breath leaving your lungs as you went limp your weak grip on his hand slacked and he panicked even more shaking you slightly "Y-Y/N?..Y/N! please don't go- no no no- please...I need you-" he sobbed holding your cold body close as he pleaded and begged to your lifeless form he pulled back and cupped your pale cheeks staining them red with your blood as he tried to keep hope that you weren't gone. Draken and Takemitchi tried to calm him saying it was going to be fine, but it wasn't, his world had died inside of his arms and he was spiraling with anger, denial, and pain that the one thing he treasured more than anything in this world, Was now gone forever.

Did it hurt to read this? good. that was the goal but I hope you enjoyed it reblogs/repost are welcome just credit me!

tags: @z3r0aqxa @nakukuu

#tokyo revengers #mikey x reader #mikey x you #mikey x y/n #Mikey #I would quite literally die for Mikey #tokyo revengers s3 #angst #angsty #Nyxwrites #nyx <3

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hibiscesque · 25 days ago

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Fanfic Writer Interview

@chuuyaspinkmotorcycle16 tagged me (<3) and I almost tagged her wrong here because she has the audacity to use a different username than on Twt.

How many works do you have on AO3?

Nineteen visible, five hidden! Hoping to get a few more in before 2025 pray 4 me.

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Just gonna do the SKK ones because no one on here follows me for DC Comics or THG.

Post-Coital Miss (4,237 words) Oneshot, M - A (nonexplicit) fic where Dazai is That Dormmate who keeps the rest of the ADA up with his loud sex shenanigans with Chuuya and Atsushi contemplates the merits of taking after his mentor and jumping into the river after being chosen to confront him.

Less Like You (22,909 words) Twoshot, E - My scar sex fic—both of their scars, not just Dazai's. I don't really know how to encapsulate it in a blurb but it's actually not about the sex at all it's all a front for the feelings. So many feelings. (Too many feelings). Transzai because I love Twitter user ardenistired.

Supersonic Boom (67,502) Multichap, T, Complete - High school AU except Chuuya is the dedicated "good girl" student and Dazai is a delinquent "bad boy" truant instead of the other way around because you can pry that iteration of them from my dead, cold hands. Featuring Dazai's dastardly schemes, ultimate badgood romcom wingman Albatross, homeless Chuuya, and illiterate-but-also-smarter-than-the-teachers Dazai.

Places of Worship (8,250 words) Oneshot, E - Praise kink but it's also lowkey trust kink because Dazai enacts a dastardly plan to get Chuuya to break up with him because he realizes he's falling in love with him. Once again the sexytimes are incidental (but also very steamy).

nothing, the wind, the sky (64,790 words) Multichap, M, Ongoing - Started writing this at a lowkey dark time in my life. It's really heavy and honestly I'm not sure I recommend it? It deals with themes of suicidality, CSA, empathy fatigue, suicide survivor (the loved one, not the suicidal person) trauma, financial trauma, human experimentation/medical trauma, trauma bonds, codependent relationships, forced mental health care, and that's just what I can remember. It was originally supposed to be four(?) chapters but it has a plot now that's actually related to the events in BSD.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! They make me so happy and I want to express my gratitude.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I actually don't usually write angsty endings. There's only one up that's not hidden right now, Deliver Us From Ev—. It's exactly what it says on the tin. A traumatized Dazai with no concept of healthy boundaries and consent manipulates Oda into having sex with him on his 18th birthday. It's non-explicit, non-sexy, lowkey kinda brutal, and I've been told by commenters that it left them genuinely upset and a little disturbed.

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

Supersonic Boom. It was SO soft and cheesy I didn't know if I was cringing or melting as I wrote it.

Do you write crossovers?

Anyone who thinks they can write a crossover after Magic and Mystery dropped is just kidding themselves. /lhj

(No, I don't haha).

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No real hate! One nasty comment once, though.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. Porn as a vessel for complicated emotions to the point the porn is the tangential part. Next question.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

OMG Malaika reminded me about the thief website crisis of summer 2024 that was wild. So yes.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

She has a private Twitter account so I don't know if she'd want me sharing it, but a lovely individual translated my The More You Grow series of teen SKK shorts into Russian on Ficbook. Link to the original here and the translation here. <3

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I've done trades!

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

The controversial trenchcoat man and the redhead he's definitely not in love with.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Right now, all of them. 🗿🗿🗿

What are your writing strengths?

I wasn't quite sure how to answer this one. I just write by applying what I learned through the osmosis of a childhood of reading books for 4+ hours every day in ways that make the brain termites happy lol there is no craft involved. I went back through some comments on my fics to see if there were any trends and the most common kind things people have said were "I like how you write the SKK relationship dynamic" and "I like your writing style".

What are your writing weaknesses?

Including enough description. I am a very, very dialogue and character-heavy writer because that's the part of writing I enjoy and honestly a lot of the time I forget I even have to set the scene.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm not opposed to it but I never feel confident in doing that unless it's a language I know myself. When reading other people's fics, I enjoy it when the writer is doing it on purpose to emphasize the lack of information or confusion their character is garnering from the words, but to be honest I get frustrated sometimes when there's a really emotional conversation going on between two characters and suddenly I can't understand what one of them is saying.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Don't laugh. Shenny The Big Bang Theory.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

No ❤️

Tags: @moonsmessyart, @monkey-banana41, @chupenguin, @oswinaltava, @neontoad

#lilris yaps #lilris fan era #bsd fanfic

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oatflatwhite · 8 months ago

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twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by @redbelles @clusterbuck and @buckactuallys <3

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

119 lmao

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

523,497

3. what fandoms do you write for?

um like so many lol. lately it's been masters of the air but my other two big/consistent ones are band of brothers and 9-1-1

4. top five fics by kudos

no morning fears, no mountains to climb (911)

the handyman can ('cause he fixes it with love) (911)

'cause i like the sense of falling (she-ra)

how to peel oranges (911)

75 best knitting puns that will have you hooked (911)

5. do you respond to comments?

yes i try to!! the only ones i don't really respond to are where the comment is just like. an emoji lol.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

well my ongoing series what took you so long? is all pretty fucking angsty right now lol

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

soooo many. love a happy ending. my cheesiest stuff is probably the fic i put together from a bunch of buddie kiss prompts a couple years ago, to keep still holy (your kiss upon my mouth)

8. do you get hate on fics?

no, but then again my fics are locked to registered users only, so

9. do you write smut?

occasionally! don't know how good i am at it but i try

10. craziest crossover:

nothing much really on my ao3 lmao. have some old stuff back in the ff.net days lol. actually i just looked the only crossover i really have published is a baberoe high school au (The Art of Perseverance) with band of brothers and the pacific characters. which isn't that crazy lol.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

um, kinda. there was a shadowhunters one that was really similar to one i had published but i worked it out with the author lol

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

yeah a couple! it's a very humbling feeling

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

no. in high school i wrote a hunger games oc fic with my friend's oc and we planned out all the characters/deaths together but i wrote it solo after that lol. she clocked in at almost 40k woof

14. all time favorite ship?

i can't read suddenly.gif < stealing that from meg lmao!!!!! it's probably winnix though. baberoe and clegan my beloveds too. and god. theonsa. *drowns myself*

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

To the Harbormaster... girl i'm so sorry

16. what are your writing strengths?

description and characterisation 100%. i think my dialogue is pretty good too

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

lmao same meg, plot. i'm trying to write an original work for uni and it's goddamn struggle street let me tell

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

listen yeah i've done it. i would do it differently now than i did when i was 17 lol. i think yeah prev if you're a native speaker or know someone who is who can go over it for you... then sure. but also, you can just work around it by saying "he said in french" or whatever. nora sakavic does it all the time

19. first fandom you wrote in?

DELTORA QUEST! lief/jasmine babes <3

20. favorite fic you've written?

hm. i like a lot of the hbo war stuff i've written but i think this has to go to my heartstopper uni nick fic go ask for joy division. it took so much out of me. there is so much of me in that fic. fuck. also same kind of goes for my steddie/ronance future fic my future's in hand. i feel like i write best when it flays me open inside <3

i'm not sure who hasn't been tagged! but ping @ww2yaoi @raylangivins @anachilles @rosiethals and @newcathedrals if you guys want <3

#tagged #liz.txt #this was fun thank u <3

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inyunjin · 8 days ago

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what are your fav ryeji aus? PLS RECOMMEND 🥹🥹🥹

Howdy, anon. Thank you for the ask! It was an absolute delight to go through my bookmarks and remind myself of all the lovely ryeji fics I've read, but here are the AUs that have stuck with me the most.

Wheel, Snipe, Celly by lonewolflink

This fic has changed my life, no joshing. I am literally sitting at my computer wearing a Ducks jersey while waiting for the game to start right now because of this fic. Link's passion and knowledge of hockey shines so bright, that as someone who did not care about hockey or sports at all before this, I just had to get into it because of it.

One could argue that the ryeji aspect of this hasn't gone full throttle yet. But the build up and relationship building is there and it's so good and not only that, just a great ensemble fic featuring not only the ITZY girlies, but the TWICE girlies as well.

quiet afternoon crush by ddeongies

Another ongoing one, this one would definitely sate any ryeji-wants you might have. Vicariously live through Ryujin/Yeji as they experience all the sapphic-college-twists-and-turnabouts you didn't get the chance to experience.

Man, what a journey this one is. To me, it has all the feel-good, love to see stuff you get with a budding relationship between two (kinda) idiots, but without any of the unnecessary drama one might see with this kind of story? The ryeji in this is so incredibly sweet and soft, while also being super hot, oof. So good.

i'd rather your body (than half of your heart) by ghostheadlock

I don't know what to say about this one. Wouldn't call it a feel good fic, but man, this thing has continued to haunt me ever since I've read it.

A Ryujin character study about her liking Yeji and how that might manifest in different ways? Is that how I would describe it? I don't want to go too deep into this and I'm terrible at summarizing things.

Read this. It will latch onto you.

heaven is a place i know (when i'm with you) by anonymous

Ryujin is a fallen angel in Hell.

Yeji is an angel from Heaven that comes down to visit her.

Beautiful.

give us a chance (please) by qaisal

I don't read a lot of soulmate AUs.

I love this soulmate AU. It's not a simple "Oh, hey, looks like we're soulmates, let's fall in love," and I think we get to see a lot more out of Ryujin and Yeji because of that.

where we are by snowddeong

There is SO much here that I want to see more of. I feel like anyway I could describe this fic would be a disservice to what it's actually about? Yeji's engaged to be married, but she has an affinity for Ryujin who's a phone sex operator and, like, huh???

This is only a one shot that kinda suggests a bigger world around it, but this thing is such a mood and I love it.

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

And I could go on, but at that point, I'd just be listing every AU I've ever bookmarked. I hope I was able to throw a couple of suggestions your way or maybe give you a chance to reread some stuff you've already read.

Ryeji is super important to me (it's the ship that got me into reading/writing Kpop fics), and these are the ones that I am just absolutely enamored with. I'm so grateful you limited your question to AUs, 'cause this list would've been impossible to make if it was just no-holds-barred.

I've yet to throw my hat into the ring when it comes to AUs, but I have a couple of ideas that will hopefully see the light of day one day. If not, as you can see, there is absolutely no shortage of amazing writing out there.

Anyway, thank you again, anon, for the ask and a big double thanks to all the ryeji writers out there! You're amazing folks and I love you all!!

#in my asks #itzy #fic rec #ryeji #ryeji fic #ryeji au #anon

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dandylovesturtles · 1 year ago

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For the writing meme: 11, 16, 24

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

AH NO questions like this are so hard... ok I'll do my favorite completed and my favorite ongoing that I'm subbed to.

I'm basing this on how much I reread them lol

Completed:

who're you hiding - Leo gets sick and hangs out in Donnie's lab.

all the things that I could live without - Disaster Twins post-movie recovery fic.

Panic Buttons - Leo has a panic attack and Raph helps him (cw that the panic attacks depicted are very graphic)

Ongoing:

The Old College Try - Disaster Twins go to college.

Three-Sided Coin - Three Leos from three different points in the timeline get transported to an alternate dimension (I think??).

call me here (I will appear) - Leo dies in the Prison Dimension and comes back to his family as a ghost.

Bonus (some favorite fics not from ROTTMNT):

Poor Wayfaring Stranger (Final Fantasy XV) - AU where Cor finds MT!Prompto and brings him back to Insomnia to take care of him. Idk how else to describe this fanfiction. It's one of the best pieces of writing I've ever read. It basically reconfigured my brain.

ikanaide (Project Sekai) - Tsukasa gets sick and his friends take care of him.

(do you take this jerk to be) your one and only (ATLA) - AU where Zuko is engaged to Yue and Sokka does not like that (though his reasons change over the course of the fic, if you know what I mean).

(putting the rest of my answers under the cut because this got long lol)

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

OH GOD SO MANY they basically don't stop.

Of the ones I feel confident I will write at some point, there are... 5 I think. 100ft is one of them so I won't talk too much about that.

The other chapter fic I want to write is my take on the "save everyone in the doomed timeline" style fic, and I've talked about it before. I've been tentatively calling it "Donnie and Mikey's Step-by-Step Guide to Saving Your Doomed Family," or just "Step-by-Step Guide" and, like I've said, it's intended to be heavily B Team focused.

The idea came from my interest in the time between the end of the Season 2 finale and the start of the movie, a time where Leo and Raph fought a lot and Donnie and Mikey had to lean on each other. They've always been close but in the movie they're downright clingy, with Donnie reflexively tucking Mikey under his arm or holding on to him in so many scenes, and like a lot of other people I interpret this as a consequence of Raph and Leo's fighting and the tension it created in their dynamic. But I also kinda shy away from that actual time period, because if you stay canon compliant with the movie it's kinda hard to have an actual resolution to that tension without overwriting it some way. And I know some writers thrive in that limbo, but I am not one of those people haha. It's just not something I'm personally interested in writing myself.

So this fic will be set in the immediate aftermath of the film, where things are kinda resolved but not really because Leo and Raph are still too seriously injured to have an actual conversation, and Mikey and Donnie are still left in uncertainty of what their sibling bond will look like when all is said and done.

And what better way to distract yourself from the growing tension in your own family than by involving yourself in someone else's problems - specifically the problems of yourselves from a doomed future?

I'm really excited about it... whenever I get to it haha.

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

I caaan't remember if I've told this story here but if I have I'll just tell it again lol

I grew up in a really small rural town that happened to have a very small private college in it (the entire campus could have fit in the commuter parking lot of the state college I went to). Every now and then this college would host some kind of speaker or a workshop that was open to the public, and this was a big thing because my town didn't get a lot of that kind of thing coming through it. One of these workshops was hosted by a published author, and it was a class for beginning fiction writers. I was around 17 or 18 at the time, and me and two of my other friends (who also wanted to be professional writers one day) were very excited to sign up.

I mean, I can't stress to you guys how hype we were for this. You'd think we had backstage tickets to a Lady Gaga concert. But our town didn't have a lot of people you could talk to about this kind of thing. Getting advice from someone who had actually gotten their books bought and published by an actual publishing house was a big deal to us.

So we get to the workshop. We're the only teenagers there, but we weren't worried about that. We were the nerds in high school, we were used to this. We all sit down in the same row, pencils and notebooks ready to go. Ready for wisdom!

She asked the group to give a short, punchy summary for a story idea we each had. Like the straight A students we were, my friends and I all put our hands up first. She called on me, and I rattled off my back-of-the-book style summary for something I wanted to write, a fantasy novel about dragons and swords (I was a dragon girl).

I remember she gave me this nasty look and said, "Oh, you're one of those."

She preceded to go into a prolonged rant about how genre fiction is pointless; how there's nothing redeemable about fantasy worlds, how it's empty-calorie entertainment, the potato chips of the literary world. Books, she said, are supposed to be about real things. Contemporary and historical fiction were the only worthy genres in this woman's mind.

I don't remember a lot of the advice that came after that, I just remember sitting in my chair feeling dejected and stupid.

I think about that sometimes, and how one person can be so wrong. Genre fiction may be set in fantasy worlds or sci-fi futures, but it's still about real things. Real emotions and real struggles and real philosophical questions. If you cut yourself off from fantasy and sci-fi just because it deals with unreal or theoretical concepts, you cut yourself off from a broad spectrum of human self-expression.

Anyway, she may have sold a few historical fiction novels but I have 250K hits on AO3 so who's laughing now, lady

#writer ask game #fic recs

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lenny-rambles · 9 months ago

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About "When All the Embers Die"

Title: When All the Embers Die

Author: MelodramaticCoffeeAddict

Update 21: Chapter Twenty (Then)

Relevant tags: ZoLu, angst, modern au, acesan, ongoing, the swords are dogs, happy ending (allegedly)

A modern au ZoLu fic in which the crew were friends once, and now Zoro's not; and about why is that.

IT UPDATED! IT UPDATED! IT UPDATED!!! Thank you so much author for updating!!! I adore this story and it's been a blast. Truly, the angst and hurt/comfort are so well managed that I can't help but get really into it. Everyone should read this fanfic because it's effin fantastic.

All right, first of all, I am a big fan of MelodramaticCoffeeAddict's works. I've read a lot of them, and the ones I haven't is because I'm scared of the feelings they'll give me. Most of them are very angsty and Zoro-centric, which means I'm very drawn to her works. But I'm digressing.

All right, spoilers for the fic and OP Marineford arc, (though that last one is kinda a stretch but whatever) BEWARE!!

We start basically where we left the "then" part of the story, which is great because I can't get enough of Zoro and Luffy's reaction to the reveal. Like, Zoro, my man is Destroyed, he is basically in hell right now, his only lifelines are Wado, Luffy and Ace. (Which is so sad now given what we know about "now") (OHHHH I HAVE THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THAT!!!)

I want to talk about Ace's role in the story before I continue. Or at least, a little thing that popped up when this beautiful fic was invading my consciousness and not letting me study: Zoro doesn't get to keep his older siblings for long. An that's so sad!!!!! Like, the foreshadowing for Ace's death being to save Zoro, who could very well be trying to save Luffy from anything (or at least the way I understood it) Is So Tragic. This would be the second Older Sibling that sacrifices themselves for Zoro, I think that would break him. That's what gives him the permanent stutter in the "now" portion of the story.

This last part actually relates to the author's comment about a hc where Zoro just, buries his emotions instead of dealing with them, because then he would break. If Ace's death is Zoro's "fault" that will be what finally breaks the dam. He will not come back from that. And we know so!!! Because he didn't!!!

All right, back to the scenes in the fic

Sanji's been giving them food but Zoro doesn't want any, I understand this so much, this is so sad :c. Luffy eats it (haha), and Ace very much acts as the ultimate support for everyone. Let's go AceSan, I just really like how Ace doesn't neglects his role as everyone's support in favor of someone else. Even Usopp got some support! I love you Ace <333

Luffy reminding Zoro it was not his fault got me by surprise!! I sometimes forget this is a ZoLu fic ('cause of the plot) lol. This is such a nice way of giving a sweet scene that doesn't shift terribly the tone of the chapter, I really liked it.

More Zoro angst!!! He's blaming himself for the short trip :c Even though Luffy already told him nothing is his fault and he doesn't own anyone anything (some chapters ago), he still thinks he's the worst because he's ruined his friends fun!!! I WANNA CRY

Some more situational fluff: Luffy gives Zoro a ride home, and only Zoro!!!! I know this has Plot Reasons, it also has Ship Implications and I'm here for both. I really like Zoro and Luffy's relationship here! I don't remember getting a Luffy POV in this fic so far, I'll have to re-read, but I'd like to see their relationship through Luffy's pov.

The moment I've been waiting for ever since the birthday chapter is finally here!! Zoro calls Mihawk dad!!!!!! I was expecting this but it still made me feeeeel for them. I'd say I really like their relationship in the fic, but I say that about everything relationship in the fic. I just really like this fic and the way the author handles the characters in a very unusual setting, but makes it make sense for the canon counterparts!!!

Mihawk comforting Zoro part 1, thank you Mihawk for giving it your best to be a good dad, even if it doesn't always work out as intended. Your efforts have not been in vain because it's Your House where Zoro feels safest, not his, not Luffy's, not Ace's, Yours!!!

A short rambling about the dogs!!! They know what to do, I really love the dogs in this fic. They are *in character* for like, 2-3 lines of dialogue we've from canon, but in all honesty, I eat up any anthropomorphization of Zoro's swords (even Oda's, but we don't talk about Oda's take on that) but this is one of my favorites!

Oh yeah, the post dissociation clarity is weird. Like, as someone who also has the bad habit of "keeping big emotions under the rug" I have now added "to ACTUALLY check on them later" to the strategy, because it suck feeling a stranger to your own trauma. Hopefully Zoro learns this, but the way the story is headed, I don't see it happening in the "then" chapters...

On this, I haven't been through something similar to what's on the story, but both God and my psychiatrist know that the line between hyper rationalizing your feelings and just ignoring them blurs terribly quicky. So Zoro being like "I have to BE FINE, because if I AM NOT FINE then this would be terrible, the most horrible thing to ever happen, and that can't be true, because I don't think I could survive that" is very close to home for me, I just wish he went to therapy.

More angst (thanks) Zoro's issues with self worth and him being a waste unless he is excellent and strong and how I relate to that because of Internalized Family Expectations that were Not Met. Not much to develop on that, I just think about this take on Zoro's character and wonder what it means to myself.

Not wanting to eat because of anxiety for something totally unrelated to food is also very personal to me. The moment when eating stops being the Joie de Vivre to become A Chore is when it's known something's wrong, so seeing it in action for Zoro is great.

Mihawk comforting Zoro part 2, thank you Mihawk for loving your son. Perona also loves Zoro but she's a bit (a lot) lost right now. I think Mihawk wants to give Zoro a sense of normalcy through his panic attacks and all, so he keeps calm. And Perona knows that being dramatic is almost always more fun than being stoic, so she is. But my poor Zoro ends up confused about how to properly react to stressful situations thanks to these two, and by stating that on the fic we now know why he is Like That. I hope he gets to calm down more soon.

Ussop!!! I love it when we get his POV, I really like Usopp's POV in general for Fics, but this one serves also for an "antagonistic" narrative in the story. My man is too wrapped up in his own insecurities that he can't see that the way he and Zoro protect themselves from trauma is basically the same. They both create and project an image of themselves that has it more together than they actually do, the only difference is that now Usopp can't call Zoro's bluff and viceversa. They are both too into their own heads to even think that someone has issues as bad a they do. (Because why would they? Everyone else is so very much incredible! They are just the lesser friend, the one that's disposable, the useless one) They are all liars trying to get the best of themselves out, so that none of their wonderful friends ever finds out about what they've got within.

But they did!!! And it's Usopp's fault for not respecting Zoro's boundaries!!! Zoro's exposed everytime that happens and Usopp Can't Get Enough of it, because now he is not the weak one. He can call the bluff and regain some sort of validation towards him and his way of projecting out. What good it does to him though, because his bluff's also been called by everyone but Zoro. It makes sense for him to finally stop and think about what he's done for a change. Ding dong mtherfcker, it's consequences of your actions!

Side note, I really like Luffy paying for Usopp's phone but still too mad at him to actually talk to him directly, that's Luffy if I ever read him.

Usopp apologizing because he fears his friends stopping from being his friends and not because of him actually being sorry (even though he knows he's in the wrong) is peak Usopp behavior. In fact, it is very much canon, since that's basically how the end of the Water 7 saga goes. (until Zoro makes Luffy understand and so Usopp understand that half-assed apologies won't do). Let's hope he doesn't have to get punched anymore to be all right with the crew again.

Ah, Usopp being petty because Zoro apologized is funny, and very interesting for things previously mentioned.

And then the fic ends. It was a very good update! I'm So Glad the author is still updating! even though it' stated to be somewhat more of a bore now (than it was at the start :c) I await the next update expectantly because I can't get enough of this, and sincerely hope the fic gets to be done, because this is such a good story it'd make me sad if it were to just, stop. So once again, thank you so much author for all the work you put through and take your time!!!

Oh well, this is a great piece (haha), I think the fic is very non shippers accesible, because most of the moment can be interpreted as platonic (but why would you?) or plainly Not In English (I love that, I really like those but where they flirt in other languages, they are such dorks omg). So I believe any Zoro fans should read it, if you like modern aus, because it is a really good Zoro fic, and fic in general. I'm biased but I'm right!!!

#zolu #zolu fanfic #txt #rambles

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astrangergivingthestrangewelcome · 2 years ago

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Things I have researched/googled for my Dracula fanfiction series Strange Wonders in the past year, an ongoing list in no particular order

typewriters, how they work and how they run out of ink

Clothing (I feel like this goes without saying)

how Victorian washstands looked (I wanted to see if it would be accurate to say there was a mirror attached or no)

Aerated Bread Company (I found a menu from 1902 so Mina and Quincey ordered food items that were on that menu)

Etymology of approximately 1 billion bajillion words and I'm sure I still didn't really get it right (did you know the term suffragette was not coined until 1906)

Texas Reconstruction (Currently I just don't see how I will fit Quincey's backstory in organically but oh he has one)

Wilhelmina of the Netherlands (this was kinda an accident bc I was doublechecking the etymology of Wilhelmina and found out that Wilhelmina was actually a really badass and memorable Dutch monarch who was only a few years younger than Mina and was 17 in 1897. Van Helsing WILL be bringing her up in passing later)

whether or not portable gas camping stoves were a thing then (the answer: yes just and Arthur is a rich boy so sure he probably has one)

whether or not pocket soup was still a thing then (the answer ehhhh not really it was pretty out-dated but I still used it anyway because I like the word "pocket soup" I can be historically inaccurate when I want to be fuck you)

how bleeding out works for different arteries and veins (I may have flagrantly disregarded the information I learned in pursuit of a climax that was both intense and not horribly sad)

how old timey guns work (mixed success. Did find out how many bullets a Winchester could hold but I still didn't really get enough information on pistols but oh well)

New Woman writers, criticism and backlash

Kukris (not sure if this counts bc I managed to research them for a masters presentation but I got to use like 5% of the information I now know about them in my fic so)

penny dreadfuls (and thank god I did bc Varney the Vampire is too good not to name drop- all other Brit Lit references I simply knew because I am a massive nerd)

The location of the porcelain industry in the United Kingdom (yes it was for a throwaway line but in my defense it took like 30 seconds to google)

did people sell phonograph records of music back then (yeah but it was still not really a thing thing yet)

Boating terms and types of boats and what steamers look like

#dracula #dracula daily

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chiimeramanticore · 4 months ago

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Part of the Band - Chapter 19 - The Beast

Chapter summary: Dook and Beach Bear visit the family. Dook tries a new food. Beach Bear confronts his past. A/N:

this chapter's title has a double meaning- it's a metaphor for beach bear's family, and also a metaphor for how fucking hard it was to get this chapter out (and also a metaphor for how LONG IT IS??? 5K WORDS???????) i haven't updated in a while, so i missed the actual anniversary, but potb has officially been ongoing for a year! what a ride it's been lol. i've definitely changed and improved as a writer since i started, and i'm very happy to not only have a work that you can really see me grow through, but also to have one that has had such a nice response to it! i wouldn't have written nearly as much of this fic as i have if i didn't have people reading and commenting on it. if you've enjoyed any part of this fic (and god I hope you do if you've made it to chapter 19) thank you, from the bottom of my heart! this has been my favorite thing to make for the RAE fandom (but don't tell the video essay fans that lmao) OK ACTUAL TRIGGER WARNING TIME FOR THE CHAPTER this whole chapter is about beach bear's transphobic ass family! i mentioned it in the last chapter but they are going to consistently deadname and misgender him, and also just generally be kinda shitty parents and people. part of the reason this chapter is so long is bc i wanted to condense it all into one big thing so you could just skip the one chapter! this chapter isn't the end of this arc, but probably the end of all the uncomfortable shit lol. we also touch on dook's drinking issues a little in this one, so if any of this makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip! you won't miss anything vital this time, i promise uhhhh i think thats everything? thanks! enjoy the chapter!

Chapter word count: 5,051 <- Chapter 18 - Chapter 20 -> Read it on AO3!

"Hey, Beach Bear," Dook says, staring out the car window.

"What's up?" Beach Bear replies.

"You said the other day you, like, uh... You took medicine, to become a dude, right?" Dook asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Beach Bear says. "I still take it. You've never noticed?"

Dook shakes his head. "What happens if you stop?"

"You go back," Beach Bear says. "In some regards, at least."

"Hmm." Dook slouches in his seat a bit. "So you gotta take it forever?"

"Long as I wanna stay looking like a dude, yeah," Beach Bear chuckles. "I dunno if too much would change if I stopped now, though. There's a lotta permanent stuff, too. I got a whole surgery and everything."

"Surgery?"

"Yeah, to–" he gestures vaguely at his chest, not taking his eyes off the road. "Y'know, get rid of the extra weight."

"I don't get it," Dook says.

"Agh, nevermind."

Dook stares at Beach Bear's chest. "...Hey, do you have to get your name changed, like in a court n' all?" He asks.

"Dook, I'm tryin' to drive."

Dook stares harder at his chest. He doesn't see the issue. It just looks like a guy's chest.

Oh, wait.

"What'd they do with your extra stuff after you got them removed?" He asks.

"Dook, I–" Beach Bear starts, then pauses. "I don't know, actually."

They sit quietly for a minute, both pondering the possible outcomes. Dook doesn't dedicate too much energy toward it, eventually spacing out once again on the long road ahead of them. They've been driving through the same monotonous scenery for hours now. Tall grassland... trees... a house every mile or so... It's farmland, but god if it isn't boring. There's not even any radio signal out here.

"...Beach Bear?" He pipes up.

"Yeah?"

"What're your parents like?"

"Uh..." Beach Bear trails off, thinking. "I dunno how to put it. They're... they're real pleasant, y'know? Outwardly, at least. They put on a real good face."

"How are they with you?" Dook asks.

"They're... I dunno. They're not bad. They're fine parents. They're just... They've got opinions, y'know? Very strong ones. And no amount of talking to them could ever convince them to rethink any of those opinions. They think they know everything." A hint of spite seeps into his voice at the last sentence.

"Mmh. I think I know the feelin'," Dook says. "They think they know everythin' about you, better than yourself, right?"

"Yeah," Beach Bear says. "It's– It's frustrating." He's holding his tongue, for some reason. "It's rough."

"Sounds rough." Dook says.

"And they live in this big McMansion, too," Beach Bear continues. "They act like they've got it made. They act like they're right about everything. They act like they know better than you, and don't you dare try to have a different opinion, 'cause–" He catches himself. "...'Cause... Whatever."

If Beach Bear's already getting worked up at the thought of his parents, he can't imagine what it's going to be like when they're actually there. "You gonna be okay?" Dook asks.

"Yeah," Beach Bear says, sighing. "I'll be fine. It's just a weekend."

After some seemingly endless length of time driving past the fields and farms, they finally arrive at Beach Bear's parents' house. He wasn't lying when he said they lived in a McMansion. The house is vast, with a white brick front and pale red roofing. The shapes of the roofing could be considered abstract art in itself– square, pyramid, conical, square, triangle... It almost looks like the house is trying to grow smaller houses out of it. Dook stares in awe as they get out of the car, Beach Bear's parents awaiting them on the porch.

"Beatrice!" His mother calls, rushing to embrace him. She's slender, with sandy, almost brown fur. Dook almost wouldn't guess she was a polar bear. She's done her face up almost excessively with makeup, and she hikes up her pink dress a bit to reach Beach Bear. She's still a bit shorter than him, though, and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Beach Bear chuckles. "Hi, Mom," he says, hugging her back. "How've you been?" Dook watches her fuss over him, and Beach Bear taking it completely fine. It's like everything he said about not liking them before never happened.

"You're still driving this wreck, kid?" His father says, also moving from his position on the porch to greet them.

"It's the only car I've got, Dad," Beach Bear says. "We're still fixing it from the wreck."

"That's what I mean," he says. "Why keep it? Better to get something new by this point, anyway."

"Ah, that's... I guess it just didn't occur to me," Beach Bear says. Dook knows that's a lie. Why not explain his reasoning?

"And you," his mother says, turning to Dook. "You must be Dook, then?"

"Y- Yeah," Dook says. He holds out a hand. "Dook Larue. Nice to meet ya." Beach Bear's father grips it first, way too tightly.

"Good to meet you too," he says. "Name's Beau."

His mother shakes Dook's hand next. "And I'm Betty," she adds. "We're very happy to have you here, Dook."

Beau is a towering man– taller than both Betty and Beach Bear, and much taller than Dook. Here he was thinking Beach Bear was tall... Beau has gray fur, a strong face, and an equally strong build. Even for someone starting to get up there in age, he's shockingly strong-looking. Dook feels like less of a man, stood next to him. He pats Dook's back– or at least, Dook assumes that's what he meant to do. It's really more of a slap, and it makes Dook near jump out of his skin.

"Well, no point in keeping us all out here," he says. "Let's get you two unpacked."

The group takes their bags from the car and heads inside. The house somehow seems even bigger on the inside– tile flooring, two staircases on either side of the living room, and a fireplace below the TV, propped up onto the wall. Dook continues to feel smaller.

From the top of the left staircase, a ferret pops her head around the corner, waving down toward them.

"Mr. Baxter! The bedroom is finished being cleaned!" She calls.

"Thank you, Margaret," Beau calls back up to her. "Could you take their bags?" Margaret is already on her way down the stairs before he even asks. She moves quickly and smoothly, like she's refined housekeeping down to a formula. She takes their bags, acknowledging the two of them with a nod, before leaving just as quickly as she came.

"You have a maid?" Dook says.

Betty laughs. "Please, don't be ridiculous! Margaret is a housekeeper, not a maid. A maid would live here."

Dook doesn't see much difference between the two. He glances toward Beach Bear for guidance, who doesn't look back.

"Dinner is still cooking," Beau says. "In the meantime, why don't we sit and chat?" He moves toward the couch. Beach Bear and Dook follow, and Betty wanders off upstairs. Beach Bear sits next to his father, and Dook chooses to sit in the chair across from the couch.

"So, Dook," Beau starts. "Tell me about yourself."

"Well, uh–" He wasn't really expecting this. "I, ah. I'm Dook, I'm a drummer, I'm from New Orleans–"

"Lousiana?" Beau asks.

"Y- yeah."

"It's a beautiful state," he says. "Do you speak any French?"

"Ah– No," Dook says. "I know some Spanish, though."

"What led to that?" Beau asks.

"Well, I had to choose which language I wanted to take in school, and I couldn't pronounce the French letters," Dook says candidly. Beau laughs.

"Dad considers himself something of a polyglot," Beach Bear explains. "He gets real excited about it."

"Quite excited," Beau says. Dook isn't sure if he's emphasizing the point, or correcting Beach Bear on his grammar. "Still, Dook, me alegro de conocer a otro hablante de español. ¿No es así?"

"Uhh." Dook doesn't speak this much Spanish. "S- Sí. Muy bien," he says.

"Oh, Beatrice!" Betty calls, quickly going down the stairs toward them. In her arms, three books. "I was in your bedroom, just double-checking Margaret's work– not that I don't think she did a good job, of course, I just like to make sure, since you can never be too careful with these things, y'know– it's so important in situations like these when you've got someone important over and–"

"Damn it, Betty, spit it out," Beau says.

"You'll never guess what I found!" Betty finishes, dropping down the books onto the coffee table between the four of them. They're photo albums.

"Oh, god," Beach Bear says. "Mom, no."

"Why not?" Betty says. "If you and Dook are going steady, he's part of the family now. And if he's going to be part of the family, he should see our family memories. Besides, you've been missing long enough that it's started to feel like these pictures are all I had of you! You might need a refresher yourself, y'know."

"Alright, alright." Beach Bear picks up a book and opens it to a random page. "These are, like, exclusively baby pictures of me," he complains.

"What's wrong with that?" She replies, snatching the book from him. "Anyway–" She sits down next to Dook, flipping back to the first page. "–Here's our Baby Bear when we first brought her home from the hospital–"

"Mom," Beach Bear says.

"Would you quit your complaining?" Betty says.

"I don't think Dook wants to see my baby pictures," he says.

"Dook, do you have any issue with looking at our family memories?" Betty asks Dook.

Dook looks between the two of them, unsure who he should appeal to. Beach Bear would hate it if this continued, but probably wouldn't be too angry at Dook himself. Betty might be angry if they didn't continue, and he doesn't know her well enough to determine how bad it'd be. And... well, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious to see the pictures, too. He shakes his head no.

"See?" Betty says. Beach Bear sighs, but doesn't protest further. He stands from the couch.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he says.

"That's not very becoming language!" Betty calls after him.

"I'm going to powder my nose!" Beach Bear calls back, already halfway to the bathroom.

Betty sighs. "Children," she says to Dook. She flips the page. "Oh, this is her first day of preschool!"

·–—–·

Dook sits at the dinner table, staring down at the array of utensils laid out in front of him. They'd already been served soup, and Dook had to watch which spoon everyone else picked up first. It's silent in the room other than the sound of their own eating, making the whole room feel uncomfortable. At least he's managing. He glances at Beach Bear, sitting across the table from him. His expression is unreadable. Dook hopes he's holding up okay.

"Mr. Baxter," Margaret says, poking her head through the door to the dining room. "Dinner is ready."

"It's early, Margaret, isn't it?" Beau glances at the clock on the wall. "We're still on the first course."

"Yes, sir, but... the meal has been finished for a while now," Margaret protests meekly.

"We're still on the first course," he says again, gesturing to the soup bowl in front of him.

"O- of course, sir, but the meal will get cold if–"

"Margaret–"

"Beau," Betty says, her tone much gentler than his has become. She puts a hand gingerly on his arm. "Margaret, thank you. Please bring in the meal now."

Margaret nods, and disappears behind the door again.

"...Tense dinner," Beach Bear offers.

Both Betty and Beau sigh, but don't answer past that.

It's a moment more of silence before Margaret reappears, pushing a cart of food. Dook immediately recognizes the scent of seafood, but can't place the smell exactly. Margaret places plates in front of everyone at the table. It's an incredibly dark meat, with mushroom and rice on the side.

"Is this...?"

"Seal," Betty says. "It's a delicacy among polar bears... and Beatrice's favorite." She smiles at Beach Bear.

"Yeah," Beach Bear adds. "I haven't had it in ages."

"Dook, you've never had it?" Beau asks. Dook shakes his head, and Beau laughs. "You're in for a treat, then."

Margaret approaches Dook again, with a bottle of wine in hand. She gestures for his glass so she can pour the drink. Dook hesitates. He hasn't had any alcohol since... since his 'incident,' causing this whole mess. He's not sure if having anything to drink tonight is exactly a smart idea.

"I, uh, I really shouldn't," he says quietly to her.

"Don't be ridiculous," Beau says. "You're a guest, have something to drink."

Dook glances toward Beach Bear.

"You wouldn't want to deny their hospitality... honey," he says somewhat awkwardly. Dook had almost forgotten they're meant to be a couple.

"R– right," he says. "I guess I can have a glass, then." He passes his glass to Margaret, who fills it with the dark red liquid. Dook can't deny the little surge of excitement he gets when he sees it pour out of the bottle. What a pretty color.

"So, Dook," Betty says, "tell me about you."

"Well, I–"

"He speaks Spanish," Beau says. "Did you know that?"

"No," Betty says, enthused. "What a cultured young man. How did you meet Beatrice?"

Dook freezes at the question. He knows how they met, but he also knows they'd hate the answer. He hadn't prepared any better of a story.

"We met at a social thing," Beach Bear cuts in. "Remember that youth group thing I mentioned to you on the phone?" Betty nods. "Dook's a counselor for a group a bracket below mine. We had a counselors-only get-together situation, and we met there." He takes a bite of his food. "Very family-friendly."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Beau says. Then, "Dook, I wasn't aware you worked with children."

Dook wasn't aware, either. "I'm... very humble," he says. He stares down at his plate. He didn't even realize seal was a thing anyone ate. It's dark red, almost black. His nose is telling him otherwise, but... he takes a bite. It's unlike anything he's ever had before– and he's unsure if that's a good thing or not. Far too fishy for his taste, he knows. But he know he needs to keep up appearances, so he can't stop eating entirely. Instead, he takes a sip of his wine. It's good– sweet, and not too dry. Dook starts taking bigger sips.

"Mmh," Beau grumbles. "Did you see that story on the news this morning? I swear, they need to bring back actual reporting. This whole thing with–"

"Beau, honey," Betty says. "Not at dinner."

Beau grumbles again, trying to find another topic to discuss. "...Tax season's coming up."

No one knows how to respond– the table falls quiet. Dook finds his glass empty already. He puts it down on the table, picking more at his meal. It only takes a few more nibbles at the meat for Margaret to return with the bottle, offering him more. Who is he to deny their hospitality?

"This is really good," he says to no one in particular as he drinks more.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're enjoying the meal," Betty says. Dook blinks, looking down at his barely-touched plate.

"Right," he says.

The dinner continues in bouts of silence for a while longer– spurts of uncomfortable conversation sandwiched by quiet portions of just eating and drinking. Dook makes his way through about half the plate and a third glass of wine. By then, he's not quite paying attention to the conversations happening around him, more listening idly as he feels that familiar pleasant fuzz come over him.

"So, ah. Mom, Dad, how have things been?" Beach Bear says, if only to break another stretch of silence. "Since I was last here, and all."

"...We redid the game room," Betty says.

Dook's ears perk up. "Game room?"

"Oh, yeah," Beach Bear says. "You'd like it, Dook. We should play a game after this."

"Okay," Dook says, smiling for possibly the first time since they got here. He glances toward Margaret– who moves to open a second bottle.

"And you?" Beau asks, not looking up from his plate. "What have you gotten up to since you stopped talking to us?"

"...Well, uh... Dook and I have been, uh, putting together a band," Beach Bear says.

"Don't tell me you're still doing that music crap," Beau says.

"Beau," Betty says.

"No," he says, "No, this is just ridiculous. If she were a musician, a real one playing real music, I'd understand. But this– this 'rock and roll' thing? There's no class!"

"Dad, I–"

"Is this what you left us for?" He says.

"That's not why!" Dook snaps.

"Dook!" Beach Bear says sharply. "Don't... Don't get involved."

"I... Okay," he says. Beach Bear's right– he's being impulsive. Dook looks to his glass, just in time to see Margaret fill it up again. A wash of shame comes over him. He keeps drinking.

"I don't know what I expected from you," Beau continues. "What did I want? Change? After all this time of you missing?"

"Beau, I think you've had too much wine, honey," Betty tries.

He ignores her. "What did I expect, maturity? Class? Respectability? From you?"

Beach Bear clenches his jaw, but doesn't say anything.

"What other little 'phases' of yours are you not over?" Beau interrogates, standing from his chair and leaning over the table toward Beach Bear. "I swear to God, if I find out you've still been smoking pot, I'll–"

"You'll what?" Beach Bear says. "Disown me?"

Beau opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. Everyone at the table knows Beach Bear is already basically estranged. He sits down.

"...Your voice sounds different," he mutters.

Beach Bear stabs his fork into a mushroom. "I'm still working at the music store, Mom."

Betty laughs, sharp and nervous. "That's– that's great, honey," she says. She stands with her plate. Margaret hurries to take it from her, and only then does Betty seem to remember she's here.

"Excuse me," she says, before hurriedly leaving the room.

·–—–·

"Beach Bear," Dook says.

"I know, it's not what you expected," Beach Bear says.

"Beach Bear."

"Look, I'll teach you how to play, alright? Don't worry about it."

"Beach Bear."

"What?"

"I'm, uh..." Dook shifts awkwardly, the plush carpeting of the game room under his feet making him feel somewhat unsteady. "I'm sorry. About dinner."

"Why?" Beach Bear asks. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"You–" He's still buzzed, which isn't helping him find the right words. "You got mad at me."

Beach Bear sighs. "I'm not mad at you, man. I'm– I'm sorry I snapped at you then. I got stressed, 'cause I thought you were gonna say something about..." His eyes flash to the doorway for a second. "...y'know."

"...I almost did," Dook says.

"But you didn't," Beach Bear tells him. "That's what matters." He stands from the bench they're sitting on. "How are you doing?"

"How am I...?" Dook doesn't understand the question.

"Well, for starters, you were kinda getting through dinner on wine," Beach Bear says. "And I know dinner was... I know my family's..." He makes a sour face, not finishing the sentence.

"I know," Dook says.

"They're... usually better than that. Especially with guests."

"It's been a long time since they saw you," Dook says. "It's– it makes sense if they're, y'know. What's the word?"

"Harboring some emotions?" Beach Bear responds, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah," Dook says, "it's all pent up n' all."

"I guess." Beach Bear doesn't seem happy with the answer, but it's not like there's a better answer out there.

"At least we leave tomorrow," Dook offers.

"Yeah," Beach Bear says. He moves over to Dook's left, toward the billiards table. "You still want me to teach you how to play?"

Dook stands. "Yeah. Show me."

Beach Bear hands Dook a cue before putting all the balls into place. Dook holds it somewhat awkwardly, unsure of the right positioning before settling on holding it horizontally with both hands. Beach Bear finishes setting up the game, resting the stick vertically at his side, and Dook quickly corrects. Beach Bear snickers.

"I'll start," he says. "The goal of the game is to get all of your balls into the holes on the sides of the table. You can only hit the white ball, which has to knock the other balls into the holes. If you get the white ball in the hole, you lose a turn and I get to put it wherever I want. If you get the black 8 ball in the hole before you've done everything else, you automatically lose."

"Which balls are mine?" Dook asks.

"There's the solid color ones and the striped ones– whoever gets one in first gets to claim that type." Beach Bear lines up his cue, hits the white ball, and the group of colored balls scatter. A red striped one lands in a corner pocket. "Looks like I'm stripes. If you get a ball in, you get to go again."

"Sounds like you're makin' up the rules as you go," Dook says. Beach Bear laughs. He lines up again, and hits a green striped ball– which bounces off the edge of a pocket and doesn't go in.

"Your turn, big shot," he says.

Dook assesses the table. There's a solid yellow ball near a pocket, but he's not sure how to actually get it in there. He approaches the white ball, trying to mimic the pose he saw Beach Bear in. After a moment, he hits the ball– or, at least, tries to. His cue is unsteady, and it cants upwards, barely skimming the top of the ball. It rolls forward about an inch.

"You can retry if you want," Beach Bear tells him. Dook moves the ball back to where it started, trying again. This time, he's a bit more powerful, and while he still hits the side of the ball, it moves. It bounces off the wall of the table and lands gracefully in a pocket.

"Damn," he mutters. Beach Bear chuckles, retrieving it from the bottom of the table.

"Looks like I get to go twice again," he teases, placing it back on the table near one of his balls. But his confidence gets the better of him, and he manages to both miss the ball he was going for and land the white one in a pocket again. "Alright, well. Never said I was good at this game."

Dook laughs, taking the ball from him. He isn't sure where to place it, so he just puts it down near one of his balls. "How do you–?" He tries to line up the cue again, still not comfortable with the position.

"Here," Beach Bear says, "lemme show you."

Beach Bear moves behind Dook, wrapping his arms around him to help him into position. His size makes this no issue– he easily reaches Dook's hands and helps him adjust his grip on the cue. He's not fully behind him, slightly off to his left, but Dook can't ignore how it feels to have Beach Bear's whole body lean into him like this. He's so big, and warm, and soft... his fur, while covered by his clothes, still makes him feel almost plush to the touch. Dook would give anything to have this feeling last forever.

"Relax," Beach Bear says. "You're too tense with it."

"Ah– right," Dook says, trying to loosen up. It's hard when they're in this position. Beach Bear slides Dook's left hand forward on the cue, lifting it slightly upward to aim straight at the ball. His right hand clasps over Dook's right hand, pulling the cue back...

Dook's ball rolls smoothly into the pocket.

"We did it," Dook murmurs.

"Yeah!" Beach Bear says, finally pulling away. "Nice job, Dook."

"You did the whole thing for me," Dook says.

"I wasn't the one holding the cue." Beach Bear smirks. Dook flushes, and he finds himself thankful for the alcohol. At least it can serve as a cover for getting this flustered.

"You got real close," he says. "If I didn't know no better, I'd say the fake dating thing wasn't an act." He laughs, trying to make it clear he's joking. Is he joking?

Beach Bear doesn't respond to him directly, just gives him a knowing look. "It's your turn again."

Dook swallows, still unconfident in his own skills. "I, uh. I need help still," he says.

Beach Bear smiles. "Can't get enough of me, huh?" He jokes. "Alright, line up for me. I'll correct you."

Dook finds another ball to aim for and lowers himself toward the table again. It is starting to make more sense for him now, it's just a matter of practice. But he'll never refuse Beach Bear leaning over him and guiding his hands again. Jeez. He's not sure if it's his embarrassment or the wine that's making him feel this warm.

"You're already looking better," Beach Bear says from behind– he's not leaning on Dook this time, but he is leaning very close– he's talking quietly right into his ear. His left hand meets Dook's, guiding his aim. They pull back the cue...

"Oh–!" A voice says from the doorway. Dook hits the ball from reflex, and the 8 ball goes tumbling into the pocket. Game over. Betty stands there, quickly averting her eyes. "Goodness. I didn't expect I'd need to knock."

Beach Bear suddenly straightens at the sight of his mother, and Dook follows. "No need to knock," Beach Bear says. "I'm just helping Dook with his aim. He's never played billiards before."

Betty sighs, though the flush on her face is still there. "Of course. I just wanted to let you two know the room is ready, whenever you're ready for bed."

"The room?" Dook asks.

"Yes, your bedroom. Is there an issue?"

The two look at each other. Are they going to be sharing a bedroom? Did both of them forget to factor this in? Beach Bear shakes his head. "No issue here," he says. "Can you– uh– we should go there, now."

"R- right," Dook says.

"Yes," Betty concurs.

The two hastily put their cues back where they got them and follow Betty to the bedroom. Dook spares a quick glance at Beach Bear, and while he can't tell for sure, it looks like he's blushing, too.

They head upstairs and down a hallway– this place really is a mansion. After a few minutes, they finally reach the room. Betty opens the door for them, and the three file inside.

“M– Mom,” Beach Bear says, a dawning look of horror on his face.

The room is very clearly that of a little girl’s. The walls are covered in a pale blue, flowery wallpaper. The bed, while large enough for two adults, is covered in plushes and decorative pillows- a pink striped blanket covers the mattress. The walls are adorned with flower-themed decorations, crayon drawings, and a few band posters.

“You redid the game room, but… not my bedroom?” He asks. “In like, seven years?”

“Why would we?” Betty replies. “We wanted to preserve what was here. We love you, Baby Bear.”

Beach Bear all but winces at hearing that. What exactly are they preserving by keeping this the way it is? This isn’t Beach Bear at all. Whoever used to live in this room… they’re clearly gone, if they ever lived here at all. Dook looks at the way Betty beams at the sight of the room. She’s so wrapped up in protecting her daughter, she hasn’t realized in all this time that she doesn’t have one.

Betty pats Beach Bear on the shoulder. “Goodnight, honey,” she tells him, before leaving the room.

Beach Bear swallows, then sighs. “I’m, uh–”

“It’s okay,” Dook says, smiling shyly at him. “I don’t mind how the room looks.”

“I’m sorry about her, too.”

“Hey.” Dook nudges him in the arm, stopping himself just short of taking his hand. “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. So you don’t gotta apologize for nothin’.”

Beach Bear smiles faintly. “Yeah,” he says. “We… still have to share a bed, though.”

“We don’t have to,” Dook suggests. “I could…” He eyes a plush looking chair in the corner. “I could sleep there.”

“Nah, I’m not gonna make you do that,” Beach Bear says. “We’ll just rough it.” He chuckles to himself, and approaches the bed. “It’s like camping. You gotta put up with tough shit sometimes, but it’s part of the fun.”

Dook follows him to the bed. “You doin’ okay? With everything that’s happened?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Beach Bear says, but Dook recognizes a twinge of that tired tone in his voice.

“...’Least we leave tomorrow,” Dook says.

Beach Bear smiles, the most genuine smile he’s seen from him all day. “Yeah,” he says. “Hope you don’t mind being my boyfriend until then.”

Dook snickers, climbing onto the bed. “Not if you don’t mind being mine.”

“Take your clothes off, you dweeb,” Beach Bear teases, hitting Dook with a pillow.

“Fine.” Dook pulls his shirt off. Margaret’s left their bags neatly opened by the window. Dook goes over to it and pulls out their pajamas. “I’ve never seen you wear pajamas,” he tells Beach Bear.

“Because I don’t wear pajamas,” he says. “I sleep in my underwear. But my parents would–”

“--hate that,” Dook finishes.

“Exactly. Gimme.” Dook tosses them over before changing into his own.

“Well,” Dook says, rejoining Beach Bear in bed. “One more day?”

“Half a day,” Beach Bear says. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” Dook gets comfortable under the covers as Beach Bear reaches for the light. Teasing each other about dating is fun and all, but the idea of actually sleeping in the same bed as Beach Bear makes Dook’s heart beat at a mile a minute. He’s a little afraid Beach Bear might actually be able to hear it. But there’s no time to question it– they’re already in bed together.

“Goodnight, ‘babe,’” Beach Bear says as he turns off the light.

Dook’s heart flutters. “Goodnight, honey.”

#juno.pdf #part of the band #potb #rae #rockafire explosion #rock afire explosion #showbiz pizza #dook larue #beach bear #also featuring my most fleshed out original characters for this fic whom i hate /lh #fanfic #fanfiction

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