#the only time i liked it was in a fanfic with a different take on alices... so not in canon at all

[roosterforme]

Okay, but how about the first time Jake and Darling have a fight? How would that go?

I really like your stories bc while it is fiction, I feel like you show every aspect of a relationship, not only the good parts.

🩷

OMG, nonny. I'm swooning. I try to make my stories realistic (as much as they can be for fanfic). Nobody is happy and confident all the time. Everyone is stressed about something. Relationships are hard work, and dealing with someone else is sometimes weird and annoying. So thank you, I appreciate that so much.

Jake and Darlin' argue all the time about all the small things in life. They have different opinions on a lot of things, but it's never usually anything they remember by the next day. I think their first big fight would happen shortly after she moves in with him, just after she graduates from school and starts her new job. (angsty below).

"I had the longest day at work," you muttered, shoveling the last bite of the dinner Jake made into your mouth. You set your fork down and stretched as you stood. This whole week was dragging. You realized you were probably complaining more than usual, but you were just over it. "Let's go take a bath and just go to bed. I'll clean up tomorrow morning."

Jake looked at you, his lips pressed into a firm line. "Go ahead. I'll clean it up."

You reached for his hand, but he was already stacking the plates. "You cooked. I don't want you to clean up. I'll do it later," you reiterated.

"Just go get in the bath," he snapped, carrying everything back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to take a bath without you!"

Jake dumped everything into the sink and spun around. "You're not the only one who's working full-time, but you're certainly acting like it."

With narrowed eyes, you asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake took a deep, practiced breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're tired, but it would be nice for you to acknowledge that I work longer hours than you do. So just go relax in the bath by yourself while I clean up."

"Well, now I don't want to!" You were suddenly so angry, you couldn't see straight, and you also wanted to cry. "You're treating me like a child!"

"You're acting like one."

His words hurt you more than a slap across your cheek would have, and your jaw dropped open. But then his next sentence made it even worse.

"In my house no less."

"Wow," you gasped, turning and running toward the bedroom as you started crying. It wasn't like you weren't paying to be here. You knew it wasn't much, but you had been insistant about giving Jake five hundred dollars per month. And for what? So he could act like you were an unwanted guest?

You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before you curled up on the tub mat on the floor and sobbed. Work wasn't like school. Trying to figure out how you fit in with your coworkers was exhausting, and you were still learning all the ropes. You drove back here every day mentally drained, and up until tonight, Jake was always the one who seemed willing to listen. You should have just cleaned up the kitchen, because now you felt like you didn't belong anywhere.

"Darlin'." Jake's voice was as sharp as his knock on the door. You tried to dry your tears, but it wasn't working, and maybe you really were a child compared to your boyfriend. "Darlin'!"

"It's not even locked!" you shouted, but it came out as weak as you felt. Jake opened the door, and in an instant, he was curled up on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole." You tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "I think I'm more exhausted this week than I'd like to admit, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

In spite of the fact that you were on the floor crying, you mustered up the courage to whisper, "I'm not a child."

"You're an adult," he said firmly. "An adult who just started a very impressive job. You're holding it together better than I did when I was in flight school." He kissed your forehead. "And you're absolutely right. We should have just climbed in our bathtub and then gone right to our bed. The fucking dishes do not matter right now. They can sit in our kitchen sink until whenever the fuck we feel like cleaning up."

Jake rubbed slow, soothing circles against your lower back until you were all cried out. If you thought you were tired before, it was nothing compared to how wrung out you felt now. You wanted to put forth a peace offering and just get up and clean the kitchen, but his lips were on your damp cheek and his voice was in your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. It has been a long week for both of us. I would like nothing more than to climb in a hot bath with you, relax until the water gets cold, and then get in our bed and go to sleep."

You nodded and started the water while he got two towels ready, and then both of you undressed. Jake kissed your bare shoulder and held you while the tub filled. "You belong here," he whispered. "I don't want you anywhere other than our house."

[wannabanauthor]

I want a slow burn BuckTommy fanfic.

And I mean slow burn.

I want them hanging out, grabbing a beer, going to the movies, and spending time with Eddie.

Then one day, Eddie asks Buck if he can drop something off to him at Tommy’s house. Buck knocks on the door when he gets there and is greeted by a shirtless Tommy.

Tommy says they’re sparring in Muay Thai, and Buck’s like “can I watch?” And then spends the entire time salivating over Tommy without knowing what he was feeling.

Buck convinces himself that he’s only admiring Tommy’s body because Buck is also a fitness enthusiast.

Then Eddie leaves, and Buck barely notices because he’s staring at Tommy.

Tommy is not an idiot. He knows when another guy is checking him out, but he thinks it’s better to let Buck figure it out on his own.

Buck has different plans though. He takes off his shirt and is like “teach me Muay Thai”.

Now Tommy is the one staring. Maybe he starts asking Buck about his tattoos and even touched one and asks if it hurt to get them, meanwhile Buck has to restrain a moan in his throat.

Tommy just raises an eyebrow and continues asking about the tattoos. Then they do some light Muay Thai training, and Buck takes a cold shower when he gets home.

He has a wet dream about Tommy that night, and he still doesn’t know what to do because he’s not into men, right? Everyone makes a strangled sound when a hot guy with a great body touches them, right? He also finds himself with an erection that refuses to go away. So he gets himself off, and near the end Tommy pops into his mind, and he comes harder than he ever has in his life.

A few days later, Buck’s leg starts acting up, so Eddie asks Tommy to check on Buck and see if he needs anything while Eddie has to work.

Tommy comes over with food and entertainment to take Buck’s mind off the pain. Buck is happy and grateful, and is also a spoiled princess and puts his legs on Tommy’s lap, and Tommy gives him a leg massage. To both legs. Maybe it turns into a full body massage to help Buck relax.

Buck is practically in love but doesn’t know how to deal with or even properly acknowledge his feelings.

Later on during a shift, Tommy and Buck get called to the same accident site. They work really well together, and the people they save tell Buck that his boyfriend is very good at his job, and he’s like “my what now?”

Tommy pretends not to hear anything, but he’s quickly losing control of patience and willpower. He wants to make a move so badly, but he doesn’t want to freak Buck out.

So one night, Buck is elbow deep in Tommy’s social media profile and comes across an old post of Tommy kissing another man and referring to him as boyfriend. When I say elbow deep, I mean he’s 3 years into Tommy’s post history.

Seeing Tommy with another guy makes Buck feel angry, but he refuses to acknowledge why. Until he sees Tommy and accidentally confronts him.

Like maybe they’re sitting on a couch, Tommy takes a swig of his favorite craft beer that Buck bought him, and Buck just blurts out “are you gay?”

Tommy doesn’t even choke in surprise. He just says yep nonchalantly.

And then…stay tuned for the next update. This might be a summary fic (my term for a fanfic that’s more an in depth summary rather than actual fleshed out fic).

I want to see how long I can go on without having them kiss. I want longing and yearning and sleepless nights. Wait, omg, what if there’s only one bed in their hotel room in Vegas. What if they get drunk and accidentally get married? They try to get it annulled, but Buck’s like “wait a minute, we get a tax break” and Tommy has to be like “I think that’s called fraud.”

There are so many ways I can drag this out.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Can you write fuego with a pregnant wife?

Hi!

I thought that I had done quite a few of them, but... apparently not ^^' Admittedly I took some inspo from my own long fic (aka Embers -series) for this, and basically used a scene as a basis. Anyways, hopefully you like it ^^

Pairing: Fuegoleon x f!reader Genre: Romance/fluff Fanfic type: Oneshot Length: ~0.9k Contains: pregnant reader, marriage mention, Fue gets kicked by the baby in the face, a lot of fluffy feels

Fuegoleon had always deemed himself to be a family man. Granted that he has other aspirations as well, and hadn’t had a partner for such a long time, which was why such a status and aspect of his life had been placed on the backburner for the time being.

Not that it had particularly stopped thinking about the future, and the family he might like to have. A wife. Kids. Maybe a few. One was too few for his liking, but he wouldn’t push for more if his partner so wished.

It was a personal preference if nothing else.

But. It had existed in a daydream for a time longer than he could tell.

Until he had met you.

Not that the images had flashed through his mind clear as day from the very first moment he had laid his eyes upon you, but rather… it was like a gentle, comforting sensation. The knowledge that this… this would be it. With you he could go on to build something.

What he had felt, was a kind of familiarity. Like this was how it was supposed to be, and nothing less would suffice.

A part of him wanted to rush. To just move together. Get married. And have the titles of husband and wife. But another part of him held back. Because that seemed more courteous. Something that one does. Bids their time and takes slow, tentative steps to the ever after. Not marry the woman he met less than a year ago.

Though people did do that.

But people, aside of royalty, were more free to make such actions. And he didn’t wish to place such scrutiny onto the two of you. Because it would just be unwanted attention. Rumours of a bastard child possibly.

Senseless gossip.

Attempts to tarnish a reputation.

No matter how displeased even the mere idea of it made him, he chose to abide the customs. Little steps. One by one. And yet with each day he tried to show his devotion, even if with words, scattered here and there, a passing touch, lingering gaze. Some if which came without a thought, because it, too, was easy; as natural as breathing.

And now…

As you sat there, in the arm chair with rings in your ring finger, and a baby bump on your tummy, he couldn’t help but smile.

Because it was his whole world that existed in that chair. And he made a point to cherish the moments where he could know, with absolute certainty, where the two of you were; away from harm and trouble. In the sanctity of your shared living quarters.

“Come here,” you told him with a whisper while stroking your stomach.

He perked up, eyes opening just a little wider, as he made his way across the room and crouched by your chair.

“The baby is kicking,” your tone was hushed, delicate and tender, as if you were speaking out a secret that was only for the two of you to know.

His eyes shifted between your expression, gorgeous and loving like the first rays of dawn, to the little bump in which your precious child resided.

He placed his hand onto your stomach, and waited.

Waited for a moment longer, eyes attentive and curious.

“Come on,” you cooed. “No need to be shy, kick some for dad too.”

‘Dad’… he thought as the corners of his lips tugged further up.

One of the most esteemed titles he could be granted.

“Come on,” you encouraged again, as if your child could hear. But… somehow it didn’t seem to make a difference, if they could, or could not. After all, they didn’t have the language to comprehend for a good while still. So, you were speaking because… speaking to your own child was one of the most natural things to do.

Your precious miracle.

“It’s alright,” he chuckled and pressed his cheek against your tummy. “You are far better acquainted with your mother,” he mused while closing his eyes. “But I can’t wait to meet you to-“

*Bump*

A kick right to his nose.

He jolted back.

You raised your hand to cover your mouth.

“Feisty,” he said while holding onto his nose. “And packs a punch already.”

There was a laugh that flowed from your lungs; equally amused and concerned.

“Are you okay?” You asked while placing your hand onto his shoulder.

“I am,” he chuckled before placing his cheek against your stomach again. “It seems we’re having a true Vermillion here,” he mused to himself with a wide smile again. “But no kicking or punching your mother,” he told, sternly, to your bump and the child. “Understood?” He quirked an eyebrow.

And… almost as if to reply, there was another kick, but this time against his hand. A much softer one this time.

“Good,” he smiled while closing his eyes.

You placed your hand onto his head, and let your fingers stroke through his silken hair, as your eyelids closed half way at the tender sight before you.

Because this… this really was him, at his happiest. While holding you, and being held by you; when he was with his family.

[itspbandjellytime]

The Assistant [Hailee Steinfeld x Reader] - Chapter 4

Plot: Y/N Waldorf is fresh out of college and her first job is being Hailee Steinfeld's personal assistant, but what Y/N doesn't know is that Hailee is hiding a huge secret from the general public and from her, as her assistant.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter fic, you can also read this on wattpad under the same username "itspbandjellytime". This fanfic is also going to contain NSFW themes in the near future, so if you're under the age of 18 please don't read this. Thank you!

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3

A/N

Hi... I am NOT dead, I have been going through a lot lately but don't worry, I am okay am just busy with other stuff. Also this chapter contains smut, please read at your own risk <3 Okay thanks for reading!

Word count: 3.1k words

[Y/N POV]

It's been a week or two since I moved in with Hailee and so far it's going well, we are starting to get to know each other more outside of work as if we're now bestfriends. So far I am enjoying this job, however I still can't get the room that's in that dark hallway and whatever lies in that room. I keep on thinking about it, every time I head upstairs or downstairs to grab myself a glass of water to the point I start to stir up different conspiracy theories only lunatics online can believe. 

Today is also my day off, which means I get to catch up with Jackie. Jackie and I met up at a restaurant somewhere in downtown LA, and I told her everything, yes including the room.

"Wait, so there's another room?" Jackie asks, grabbing a bite off her burger. I nod in response, bouncing my leg up and down  "Yep, I don't know what's in there and I don't want to know what's in there even though I make weird conspiracy theories to myself about what's in there." I said, scrolling through my phone. 

"Maybe it's her album?" Jackie said jokingly and we burst out in laughter, I shook my head and sighed "I wish, if it was her album I'd be leaking that in an instant... As a joke!" I said, nervously chuckling as I look around my surrounding hopefully people do not know that I work for Hailee Steinfeld. "But enough of that, how's Hailee treating you tho? I bet she's treating you like a queen or something." Jackie says, a smile forming on her face as she leans forward.

My face turns red smiling at Jackie, she's not wrong Hailee does spoil me like crazy as if I am not her personal assistant. Yesterday, while we were out and about after a meeting, she took me shopping and I saw the pair of designer shades I've wanted for so long but I couldn't buy it because it's expensive as hell. But Hailee at the end bought me the pair of designer shades that I've been visioning for quite sometime now.

"Well you're not wrong, she does spoil me like crazy." I say, I pulled out the pair of shades that she bought me and showed it off to Jackie. "She bought these for me yesterday." I giggled, putting them on. Jackie gasps knowing that it's the sunglasses I've always wanted since we we're teenagers on stan twitter. "Oh my god, it's the sunglasses you wanted!" Jackie exclaims, admiring every nook and cranny of the sunglasses on my face. All I can do is laugh and nod "I know right?" I responded, putting the sunglasses away.

"Those sunglasses suit you!" Jackie compliments the way the sunglasses suit my face and takes a sip of water, we were both silent for ten seconds and Jackie as always breaks the dead air between us.

"Are you sure Hailee isn't like... Making any moves on you?" Jackie asks, my face turns redder than the tomato sauce of the dish I am having.

"Oh Jackie... You are feeding me into my delusions once again." I laugh, rolling my eyes. Way before I got this job, Jackie and a bunch of our old twitter mutuals used to poke fun of me in a friendly manner about how much of a simp I am for Hailee and as Jackie's friend, I fire back all the time.

"I am being serious, I am not feeding into your delusions Y/N/N. She has been spoiling you left and right, you live in her house, she bought the shades you've wanted, she is making the moves on you." Jackie says to me, I roll my eyes and sighed. "Well if she was making the moves on me then I am now The President of the United States." I said, smiling as I call the waiter for the bill, Jackie smirks and shakes her head and we continue to talk as the day ends.

Hours later, I am back at Hailee's place. I just finished brushing my teeth and I am getting ready for bed, I glance at the room that's in the deep hallway. I start to get second thoughts about me trying to find what lies behind that door, or me keeping my job and not fucking shit up between Hailee and I.

I check my surroundings if Hailee is around and then I look at the room, I slowly and surely take a step closer and reach for the door knob. My legs start shaking, the palms of my hand start to form sweat, and my heart starts to beat like crazy.

"Y/N?" A voice called out to me, I turned around to see Hailee behind me. I dropped my hand down and faced her properly, wiping the sweat off my hands and nervously smile.

"Hailee, Hi!" I greeted her, nervously smiling at her "Quick question, what's in this room?" I asked her. It was a very straightforward move but I was so curious, Hailee looks at the door and furrows her brows and looks back to me.

"It's just a storage room, very boring stuff there. Nothing interesting." Hailee says nonchalantly as if it's not bothering her just one bit, all of the chaos in my brain stopped for a bit and it felt like the skies cleared in my brain.

"Oh! I see, it looks very creepy from my end that's all and I was just super curious what lies behind that door." I said, Hailee laughs and pats my shoulder giving it a squeeze.

"It's nothing, Y/N. Now you go get some rest, we got important things to discuss tomorrow, work related." Hailee says, being serious this time around and walks away from me. I didn't say a word and just nodded, cause if I speak the conversation will last for a life time. I glanced at the door and then left and went back to my room.

Three o'clock am, hours later.

I opened my eyes, my throat was dry and I start to cough. I am feeling a little thirsty and I want to drink a glass of water, cause who hasn't had that moment when you wake up in the middle of the night and you want to drink a glass of water.

I got out of bed and left my room, heading downstairs to grab a glass of water. As I walk down the halls of her house again, my eyes dart the room in the dark hallway and I noticed something. The door is barely open and I can see light coming out, the light is red. 

Wait... No... What the fuck? This better be a prank. I swallowed hard and reached for the door, slowly opening it. I gasped at what I saw, I couldn't believe my eyes "What the hell." I whispered to myself as I slowly make my way inside the room. The room looks like it's from those fifty shades of grey movies, it had ropes and chains. This made me freeze, could this be Hailee's secret? The secret that she's been hiding from the general public? Jackie probably might be right all along, God I am so oblivious- But I don't care I am still  standing for what I said and at the same time shocked.

"Y/N." I heard Hailee's voice, it sounds so stern and serious. I can tell that my job is on the line with this one, I turned around and saw Hailee in an oversized Daytona shirt leaning against the door frame. "Hailee, I can explain." I said as I put my hands up as if I was caught by the authorities. Oh god this is it... I am gonna lose my job, Hailee didn't say a word she just closed the door behind her and walked up to me.

"I think I should be the one who needs to do the explaining." Hailee tells me, putting my hands down Hailee takes a deep breath and looks into my Y/E/C colored eyes in a very sincere and serious manner. 

"I know that this is shocking to you but yes... This is what's inside the room in the dark hallway. I know that this isn't typically what you'd see from someone like me but yeah... This is the secret I have been hiding from people like my friends and family." Hailee explains with sincerity in her eyes, all I can do now is just listen to her explanation. I though the secret in question was something  very controversial, but this... This isn't even controversial or anything. "Y/N, I totally understand if you seeing this will make you change the way you think about me and if you want to quit your job I understand-"

"Hailee." I said, finally speaking up after she explained everything. "I didn't know that you'd be into this." I continued, looking at the array of whips, collars, and cuffs on the wall and back to her. "Do you do this with anyone or?" I ask her. 

Hailee simply shook her head "No, I haven't." Hailee admits to me, she pulls me in close to her our faces inches away from each other. "I haven't..." Hailee repeats, moving a strand of hair away from my face. My heart starts to beat like crazy already, I am stuck and frozen and all I can do is nod "And I want to do this with you first..." Hailee admits once again. 

"Do you trust me, Y/N?" Hailee asks me, the silence in the room is loud and the only thing I can hear is her breathing and my heartbeat. I don't know what to say at this point and at the same time I want to do it, so I responded to Hailee's question by nodding.

"No, sweetie... I want you to say it... Use your words." Hailee says, this time she caresses my cheek. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes shut, and cleared my throat "Y-yes..." I responded. A smirk forms on Hailee's face hearing that one word come out of my mouth "Good girl." She whispered, pulling me in for a heated kiss.

The way her lips crashed against mine made me melt, it felt like an out-of-body experience for me. I gave in and kissed her back, letting out moans between the kiss as Hailee deepened the kiss. She chuckles between the kiss, running her hands down my body as she pulls me closer to her "You are so responsive Y/N." Hailee mutters, trailing kisses down from my jawline to my neck. I let out a moan as I felt Hailee slide her hand inside my shirt, caressing my bare skin,

"Can I?" Hailee asks me, tugging the hem of my shirt. 

"Please." I begged.

Hailee smirked, she then proceeded to take my shirt off, so it was just me and my pajama pants "God you're so breathtaking... You look like a Goddess..." Hailee praises, grabbing a hold of my breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze making me moan. Hailee smirks at my response as she kisses my neck, kneading my breasts "I love how responsive you get when I touch you, Y/N." Hailee mutters as she pins me down the bed, her grip on my wrist isn't firm but is sure to hold me down. She gets on top of me and starts to straddle me, she reaches for the cuffs on her bedside drawer putting them on me "Is this okay?" Hailee asks as she adjusts the tightness of the cuffs on me "I want you to be honest with me, okay? I don't want to do things you're not comfortable with, darling." Hailee says once again, reassuring me. 

I look up at her and nod in response "Yes." I say, feeling comfortable with the grip of the cuffs, feeling the cool metal against my skin.

"Good girl..." Hailee nods, kissing my lips once again and then her lips trailed down from my lips, to my neck, down to my chest. She takes one of my nipples and sucks on it, swirling her tongue around it making me gasp and moan as I feel a familiar heat forming between my legs "Oh God..." I quietly moaned feeling her tongue on my nipples, Hailee looked up at me as she runs her fingers on the waistband of my pajama pants "Please, Hailee..." I begged, fully surrendering to her.

Hailee pulls down my pants and underwear in one go, tossing it aside along with the pile of clothes on the floor. Hailee looks down and bites her lower lip seeing the sight of my wet core "You're already wet, Y/N." Hailee says, stripping her clothing in front of my eyes and showing off those nice abs she has.  She spreads my legs open, caressing my inner thighs making me whimper "Whats your safe word?" She asks, lowering herself between my legs.

"Safe word?" I ask her back.

"Yeah, give me your safe word..." Hailee responds, I know a thing or two about safe words thanks to mistakenly reading a paragraph from Fifty Shades of Grey at a Barnes and Noble. 

I just look into her eyes and I swallow hard "Lamp post." I said, I didn't know what safe word to tell Hailee but thats my safe word. Hailee chuckles and looks at me again "Lamp post it is, just relax okay? It's just you and me..." Hailee says in a reassuring tone, kissing my inner thighs.

I let out a sharp gasp as Hailee's tongue licked my wet folds up and down, those gasps turned into moans and whimpers that echoed around the bedroom. The way Hailee's tongue moves is a whole other level, making me moan more and more "Hailee... Oh fuck... Y-yes..." I moan out, rocking my hips back and forth for more pressure.

"Y/N, you taste so good... Where have you been all my life?" Hailee mutters, sliding two fingers in and out of my entrance as her tongue flicks my clit making me moan more and crave her more and more. "Hailee.. Please... d-don't stop..." I moan out, Hailee smirks as she picks up her pace to the point I am squirming under the sheet of the bed.

"You like that? How does it feel to be used like this?" Hailee asks, curling her fingers inside me as she kisses my neck, picking up the pace of her fingers inside my wet heat. All I can do is just nod, I can't form any words on how I am lost in the pleasure of her fingers "Y-yes... It feels so good..." I manage to respond, looking into her hazel eyes underneath the red light of the room. 

Sweat starts to drip down my forehead, my body is glistening in sweat as well as Hailee continues to finger me. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge already, my walls start to tighten around her fingers each thrust Hailee makes.

"Hailee... I'm close..." I said, letting out a series of whimpers and moans, Hailee leans closer into my ear, nibbling on it "Thats what I want to hear... Cum for me y/n..." Hailee whispers.

I arched my back, letting out a gutteral moan and screaming Hailee's name out in pleasure. My whole body starts to shake and tremble due to the amount of pleasure Hailee has given to me, Hailee looks at me and slowly pulls her fingers out of my entrance.

Her fingers are coated in my juices and she takes them in her mouth sucking them clean, letting out a satisfied moan "Y/N... You taste so good..." Hailee says, pressing her lips against mine as I taste myself on her tongue. "But I am not done with you just yet, darling," Hailee says.

I watch her get off the bed and retrieve a strap-on from her closet which made my eyes widen in shock, Hailee smirks at me as she teases my folds with the tip of the strap-on "Have you ever been fucked with a strap-on before?" She asks me. 

I respond with shaking my head "N-no..." I said, my face all red and flustered which made Hailee chuckle. "You're so adorable, Y/N. Just relax... You'll probably love it." Hailee says, I let out a gasp feeling the girth of the strap-on inside me making my eyes roll back.

"So tight..." Hailee whispers, she starts to move her hips back and forth slowly but surely making me let out more whimpers and moans. I turn away to stiffle out my loud moans but Hailee gently grabs my face, looking into my eyes as she picks up the pace "That's it, baby... Look at me... God you're so sexy whimpering and moaning for me..." Hailee says, pulling me in for another heated and passionate kiss, hitting my sweet spot repetitively making me moan between the kiss.

I can feel myself getting close once again, my heart rate starts to go insane as she continues to thrust in and out of me "H-Hailee..." I whimpered out as my walls tighten around the strap-on "I'm gonna- I- I can't..." I manage to say. My eyes widened as I climax for the second time tonight, I start to pant and shake due to the intensity and amount of pleasure Hailee has given me. Good thing she is very gentle and started to slow down her pace, Hailee kisses my neck and jawline as her movements start to slow down "Shhh..... It's okay.... You did so well, y/n...." She praises me slowly pulling the strap-on out of my wet core, removing it and tossing it aside. Hailee then takes the handcuffs off of me and I can finally move my arms and wrists.

Hailee then lies down next to me "Come here." Hailee says, gesturing for me to come a little bit closer. I move a little closer to her and she pulls the sheets up to cover our naked bodies, she wraps an arm around me and we look at each other for a while "How do you feel?" She asks me. It took me a second to respond and collect my thoughts, I just cant believe that I just had sex with my boss but not just any boss, it's Hailee Steinfeld we're talking about here.

"I... It just felt like... like..."

"Like a volcano?" Hailee asks me, a smirk forming on her face. God this woman...

I chuckle in response, nodding at Hailee's statement "Yeah... Like a volcano..." Hailee and I stayed like this for a while, she drifted to sleep and I just looked at her and I followed suite, resting my head on her chest feeling her heart beat.

[writeonthrough]

Namy Nuggets: A fanfic collection of interconnected one-shots of Amy and Nathan scenes from CBC's Heartland.

Nugget #1: Birch Tree Meeting Place

Amy slows Shadow down as she turns him from the spanning Heartland fields into a cluster of birch trees. The sound of the nearby brook babbling along calms her after she raced Shadow to arrive on time. She follows the curve of the brook further into the woodland until the water spreads into a small pond. As she dismounts, she spots the blanket laid out on mossy grass and the cowboy standing waiting for her.

“Hey,” she greets Nathan with a slight smile. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Aw,” he reaches for her. She enters his encircling arms. They kiss briefly. “You’re not late. I was early.”

Amy chuckles. “I’m pretty sure I was late. But you’re kind.”

“I try,” He releases her waist, slides his hand down her arm, and guides her to the blanket. He sits comfortably and Amy finds a seat on the blanket between his legs. She rests against his chest while his arms return to their place around her.

They sit for a minute, cuddling in silence, letting the sounds of the babbling brook and the two horses grazing fill the air.

“This is nice,” Amy confesses. “Heartland is so busy. So many people in the house. It nice to get a breather.”

“Too many people?” Nathan questions. “You’re so close with your big family and you’re such a natural with people. It seems like you enjoy being around people.”

“Oh, no,” she turns in his arms to face him. Though her expression is serious, Nathan catches her lighthearted tone. “More than once I’ve been accused of preferring horses to people.”

Nathan smiles into her neck. “Really?”

“Like often,” she emphasizes. “It’s people’s go-to insult about me.”

Nathan chuckles, squeezing her playfully and rocking her from side to side. “Their go-to insult?”

“Yes!” Amy exclaims. “You’d think people would stop after a while.”

“I wouldn’t take that as an insult.” Nathan shrugs. “I prefer horses to people.”

“Hmm, maybe that’s what I like about you,” Amy teases. “I couldn’t figure it out before—” Nathan teases her back with one more squeeze. She sits up in response, pulling away to look at him. “But now it’s clear. That must be the one thing we have in common.”

“The one thing?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know anything else we have in common,” Amy continues to interplay between her serious and lighthearted tones. “It couldn’t be the ranching—your business is cattle and mine is horses. Those are totally different. It couldn’t be our social lives—You just have Molly to follow you around while I am constantly surrounded by people. So, obviously, I couldn’t possibly enjoy the quiet. Our families are in direct competition with each other and probably would not be happy if they found us here together.” Nathan’s smile fades at her last comment, but she continues, “I mean, all this time we’ve been hanging out, I had no idea what I liked about you.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Nathan turns serious. He searches her gaze. She notices the vulnerability in his eyes. “Hanging out?”

Amy takes a deep breath and grows somber in his arms. She ducks his gaze by leaning back against his chest. Nathan adjusts his position around her, but only finds comfort again when she speaks. “Hanging out is what we started off doing in our open adjoining fields. Now that we’ve found this new beautiful spot hidden in the middle of these birch trees, I don’t know what I’d say we’re doing.”

“Hmm,” Nathan withholds any further reply. He chooses instead to trace her arm up and down with his fingers and bury his chin in the curve of her neck.

“Whatever we’re doing, it’s important to me.” Amy nuzzles against him. “You’ve made me feel things I haven’t felt in years.” She brings a palm to his cheek and turns him to her. “I’m in this, Nathan.”

He matches her intensity and sincerity as he promises her, “Me too.” He strokes her face with his thumb, bringing her closer. “To all of it.”

Before Amy can respond, Nathan leans down to capture her lips. She meets his kiss with enthusiasm, raising her fingers to the nape of neck and into his hair to pull him closer.  His hand lowers from her cheek and wraps around the small of her back. Their kiss deepens and their surroundings disappear. The sounds of babbling brook, the crickets hidden in grass, and the horses’ tails whipping the flies away all fade away as they embrace.

Nathan pulls back first. Amy gives him a kiss on the cheek before returning to rest against his chest. His hand returns to her cheek as she gives him a small smile.

He hesitates before speaking. “As much as I love it, here, with you,” his arm lowers to her shoulder.  She searches his face, anticipating his point. “We can’t hide out here forever.”

“I thought you wanted to keep things between us,” Amy responds thoughtfully.

“I do,” he assures her. “I do. I just want to be sure on we’re on the same page before someone somehow figures it out.”

“Okay. That’s fair,” She reflects for a moment. “I think we’re on the same page here. I mean we just said we’re in this—together, right?”

“Yeah,” He strokes her arm in reassurance. “We are.”

“Okay, so?” She turns back to him, waiting for him to explain further. When he doesn’t, she offers. “Things don’t have to change, Nathan.” Amy reassures him. “We can still meet here.”

“Amy,” he says softly. “We can’t keep meeting here every day and then pretending we barely know each other around our families.”

“Okay,” Amy catches the slight edge to his words. “And would you like that to change? Because,” she keeps a neutrality to her voice, hoping to sound curious rather than accusatory, “Last time we talked about it, you didn’t.”

“It was a mutual decision,” Nathan corrects her.

“Okay,” Amy nods in his reply. “And now it’s not?”

“No. Yes.” He detangles this bodies and throws his arms in air. “I don’t know.” He plants his hands behind him and leans back. “I don’t know how much longer we can keep hiding this. And I don’t know how we’re going to start to being seen together—”

“Oh, there’s no starting.” Amy interrupts, “Once one person in my family knows, everyone is going to know—”

“Yeah,” Nathan nods. “Kind of my point here.”

“Okay…” Amy repeats herself again, still trying to figure out what he wanted. “So…do you want to start telling people?”

“No,” he tries to speak seriously. “I don’t want to tell people. What I want is for people to know we’re together without having to explain or defend anything to anyone.”

“Ah. Very admirable goal,” Amy smiles, repositioning herself across from him. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “That’s what I thought.”

“There’s probably a middle ground,” Amy offers, hesitating slightly. “Where we don’t have to be as private about it and we don’t say anything either.” She notices him perk up at the idea. “But people are going to start asking questions sooner or later.”

“So, we ease into it,” He leans forward. “I kind of like that.”

“There’s no guarantee it’ll work, through,” she warns. “One person could catch something right away and the inquires could come on as an onslaught.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod. “They could.”

For a moment, they sit in silence, letting the magnitude of the change in their relationship and the change in their decisions about it sit between them.

Amy scoots closer to him. She extends her leg out so her foot nudges his leg in reassurance. “As long as we know we’ll get through it together, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Together,” he leans forward for a kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Good,” Amy settles it.

“So…” Nathan imagines being around her whole family this coming weekend. “What does that mean for the cattle drive tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Amy starts seriously. She crosses her legs on the blanket, sitting up straighter. “I’m not going on the cattle drive.”

“What?” He retreats in surprise. “Why? Is it Lyndy?”

“No, no. Lyndy is coming with me,” Amy points across the field. “I’m doing a horse clinic. I’ll be gone most of the day.” 

“Oh,” Nathan quiets in reflection. “I thought you’d be there tomorrow. I was looking forward to it.”

“You’ll just have to tolerate my dad and grandpa without me,” Amy smiles, “Sorry.”

“You’re leaving me to the wolves, huh?”

She chuckles. “Lou will be there. It shouldn’t be that bad.”

“It just…” he searches for something to say. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“It’ll be fine,” she promises. She uncrosses her legs, “Speaking of tomorrow, I actually have to go prep some things,” she stands and brushes off. “I wish I could stay…”

“No, no,” Nathan stands after her, “I should go too.” When she steps off the blanket, he tugs it up and rolls it together.

Amy starts to mount Shadow, but then turns back to him, her long hair flipping around her. “Umm…” she reaches for him and he steps into her arms. “Thanks for the people break.”

He smiles, “Anytime.” He leans in for a kiss and she meets him a final time, stroking his cheek as she does so. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” she promises. She looks at him once more before turning and mounting Shadow, riding off, out of their birch tree-covered hideaway.

[sibylsleaves]

ok sorry. but i do not see any difference whatsoever between the hate tommy is getting and the hate taylor kelly got. like please point out the difference because i do not see it

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[juliets-roller-derby-awesomeness]

favorite psych fics??? 👀

i honestly haven't read too-too many but here's an incomplete list:

food is life, and life hates juliet. this was the first one i read and i found it through @/thespiritssaidso answering my ask about spoiler free psych fics and it's so cute aksjsjdbs. i wrote a short little continuation here but it's a spoiler free shules sickfic/whump and it's pretty short and i've read it like 3 times bc it makes my feet kick. @/thespiritssaidso (Isolation68 on ao3) writes a bunch of really cute shassie stuff too but i like juliet far too much for this not to be my favorite of their work.

hidden emotions. it's less than 1k but just really good. it's pov second person (following jules) and has spoilers for the season 3 finale, but i love it a lot. i found it from someone answering my spoiler free psych post telling me to sort by date updated on ao3- which like- i wish i could find that notification and give you a hug bc that changed my life lol. i really really loved reading like a detached 2nd person fic, it's so well written because it doesn't make you feel like juliet but it gives so much information on her thoughts and feelings which was just a really cool experience and inspired me to write this (which i swear i will update soon i have like half of the next chapter on my notes app), which slight spoilers for season 4 but it's cannon divergence. anyway i love the concept and i love the execution and i love juliet o'hara

the door before me is open just enough. it's just really cute. another shules one shot i found the same way and it really stands up to re-reading

love game. fluff and smut, shules one shot i found the same way. there are a couple sexy shules fics that i love but for some reason this is the only one i have bookmarked. it's so good and the author does a really good job of keeping the characters believable throughout. theres some shawn and gus friendship stuff and karen vick, i just like it a lot

there are a lot more but these were most if the ones i bookmarked, if you're interested there are like 60 fics when you search psych >> shules >> english >> updated between 2006-2011, they're all pretty short (6k max i think) and probably 50 of them i liked so definitely check that out lol

edit: @/attic-nights was the one who told me to sort by updated on ao3!!! you are my favorite i love you so much go send them hugs lol

[novella-november]

Is this fanfic friendly? I feel like an outlier.

I guess this is my sign it's time to throw together a FAQ post to link to lol.

Yes, every event for this blog is fanfic friendly :D

Though as I mentioned on my Ominous October post, for events that include multiple short stories, I encourage everyone to flex their creativity and take one of their planned short story fanfics, and at least *attempt* to turn one of them into something entirely original; rebuilding a character and story from the ground up to stand on its own two legs is no easy feat, and that is what makes it so fun!

It really gets your creative gears turning, to make an "au of an existing material" to be something entirely original, and you can be pleasantly surprised about the things you come up with!

As a few people say, its not just a matter of "filing the serial numbers off" -- you have to add in just as much *or more* as what you take out when you are turning a fanfiction into something that is original and completely divorced from its original source material / inspiration, and that is a hard, but very rewarding challenge!

Obviously, this is not a requirement (there's no hard requirements for any of the challenges, other than no cheating, including no using AI),

but if you would like an extra challenge for the short story events and you're planning on doing entirely fan-fiction, I highly recommend trying it out at least once, and seeing where it leads you--

you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by what you find down that rabbit hole!

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[pokimoko]

The House of Astarion - A Baldur's Gate Fic

Written by pokimoko

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: ~12K

Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Astarion & Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Astarion & Gale (Baldur's Gate), Astarion & Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Astarion & Gale & Karlach & Lae'zel & Shadowheart & Wyll (Baldur's Gate)

Characters: Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Lae'zel (Baldur's Gate), Cazador Szarr

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Inspired by Theseus and the Minotaur (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, (but only partially), Location: Faerûn (Dungeons & Dragons), Dungeons & Dragons Game Mechanics, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon-Typical Violence, Vampire Spawn Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Astarion Needs a Hug (Baldur's Gate), Karlach is the Best (Baldur's Gate), Gale as Player Character (Baldur's Gate), POV Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Astarion-centric (Baldur's Gate), Fluff and Angst, During Canon, Labyrinth - Freeform, Astarion & Karlach Friendship (Baldur's Gate), (in which they speedrun becoming besties via a 5v1 battle and a good chat), All the World's A Stage And I'm the Star (or: how to deal with being the monster of the story), Astarion living his best Rogue Subclass Arcane Trickster Life, Epiphets. So many Epiphets, Angst with a Happy Ending, TLDR: hey. so you know how the Minotaur's name is Asterion? yeah...yeah

Summary: Within a secluded valley alongside the River Chionthar, there is a great labyrinth, and within that great labyrinth there is an even greater monster. At least, that is what the stories say, and we all know how those are supposed to go, with heroes always coming to save the day. In stories like that, there is only one ending that exists for monsters.

But this is not that kind of story.

[jessamine-rose]

/obey me! vent/

[light-lanterne]

what the heck have i just read,,,

guys, there are a lot of similarities between all the members of the party. they all are outcasts of some kind, they all share some general traits (hence why they became friends in the first place), and they're all going through similar experiences as a result of their involvement with the upside down and all that.

but they're all unique individuals who all have their own struggles and character arcs and none of them exist purely to give depth to the other -_- parallels exist to add layers to certain aspects of the character's stories and the overall narrative, not to reduce an entire character's journey to those similarities and then proceed to ignore everything else about them. that is such a shallow way to consume the source material we all enjoy :|

it's okei to like certain characters more, and it's okei to point out all the little hints the duffs have left woven throughout the entire show to hint towards what's going to happen next with certain individuals and plot lines,,,

just don't reduce the entirety of one main character's existence to some very specific moments and traits in order to justify or enrich someone else's arc >:\

[everythingsinred]

I just read you have alternate au endings in mind and I’m VERY curious!! Do you have any posts abt them??

Hi !!!!

No, I probably don't... I can't say for sure but I doubt I have any specific posts about it. I talk a bit about some ideas here and I rant in general about the ending so much that there's a subsection in my table of contents (pinned post) about what I don't like.

Under the cut is a mishmash rambling of ideas lol...

So I guess I'll give you a brief run-down on what should change for me to be more on board with the ending. I hate Mikan having the stealing alice with a passion. I know that shows up pretty early, but I hate it and I usually forget about it because of how much I hate it so if I ever wrote a canon-verse fic (which I'm nervous about because of this very thing), she probably wouldn't have it, which would require me to shift a lot of other elements in the story. I just think it kills the importance of her nullification alice. She had a "useless", understated, subtle alice that could easily be taken for granted but that was actually super cool and useful in its own way, and the stealing alice is... not helping that issue. The stealing alice is immediately and clearly useful and showy and impressive, if a bit taboo. But that taboo element is rarely touched on with Mikan because she doesn't even know she has it for a while and she's immediately pretty okay with it when she does find out about it because it never really does wrong... Meanwhile, Yuka's story with the stealing alice is so much more meaningful because we get a deeper look into being outcast for her alice and how much of a burden it can be. Mikan doesn't have that relationship with the stealing alice, but its arrival undercuts her nullification alice and as a result her arc suffers.

I also think Persona took up way too much time. I don't really care if he has a redemption or not but the "We have to forgive everyone so we can all move and be happy now" message is so aggravating to me and not a lesson you should be giving a young audience so, I would get rid of that, or at least undercut it. (My issue with Persona's redemption is more about Mikan than him, actually.)

AND I HATE HOTARU SAVING NATSUME. I hate it so much. It's my least favorite part of the story, no contest. I'd delete that right away. Additionally, Mikan losing her memories has potential but none of it is used and then all of her relationships in the last chapter are minimized to elevate Hotaru, to the detriment of every other character on that beach, which pisses me off so much...

So I usually like an ending that looks like this: Mikan only has the nullification alice (and thus Yuka wouldnt have died, but would maybe have been put in a different bad situation, like maybe Mikan is still in the labyrinth as collateral over Yuka... that could be cool), and Natsume still dies (I love him dying) but Mikan saves him, and a huge help is Ruka. Maybe Mikan still loses her alice, and still loses her memories. In that case, the amnesia thing should be stretched out and actually used, instead of lasting a chapter because then it's just stupid and feels pointless. In this case, Hotaru should play a more subtle role (which is what she does best) and be the main one to chase after Mikan. That way the manga can still have the bookends of the best friends chasing each other, only this time it feels more equal. OR maybe Mikan doesn't lose her memories but since Yuka is still alive, she leaves the academy with her mom and they start some new life together for a reunion with friends later on.

OR she keeps her memories and doesn't lose her alice and instead everyone is happy at the Academy, particularly because Shiki is now in charge without the interference of the ESP so there's much-needed structural change that makes life at school a lot better and less prisonlike. TBH, I genuinely can't stomach the idea that the Academy doesn't undergo structural change because 1. That's such a cop-out and 2. It makes Shiki look bad and 3. It makes the whole story seem a lot more like child abuse apologism... which it isn't doing on purpose but OOF it is not a good look.

I also hate what was done with Goshima at the end there, so I would completely discard that.

Anyway, I actually do have plans on writing ONE idea of an alternative end at some point, but it'll require some thought and care so that fic will need some time to be written. If you have AU endings, please share because I hate the end we got and I don't think a lot of us actually like it, in the end.

[quietwingsinthesky]

You really have no idea how long it takes to make a podfic until you do it yourself

[theloveinc]

.