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gift-of-prophecy · 1 year ago

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cemetery girl - mike schmidt

summary: mike works hard and deserves the best treatment, the reader gives that to him... and doesn't let up until he's crying and begging.

a/n: cross posted from ao3 (also @/gift_of_prophecy) fnaf changed my brain chemistry and this creation was born in the middle of the night when i saw it, i've just been too lazy to post it until now (also sorry about everything else i've promised to post, my brain is only letting me think about jhutch)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, kinda fluff, established relationship, overstim, bj, cowgirl, fem!reader, sub!mike schmidt

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His hands shot up to his face, covering his pathetic scrunched up expression, but his moans still seeped through his skin and filled the little bedroom. She hadn’t let up, mouth still playing with his cock like somehow blowing him was a treat for her. He’d already cum, already watched her drink him all in and now he was left on the brink of tears as she was practically french kissing his shaft, denying him time for refractory and instead somehow willing his dick to harden up against her soft lips.

“Please~” He whined, followed by a string of pants, this had to be some form of torture. “Ha… Why are you… why are you doing this?”

“Such a good boy,” She spoke between pecks, “So hard on yourself, you deserve someone treating you all nice,” Her eyes found his from between his legs, peering up at him like cat about to pounce, “Wanna make you feel good over and over and over.” The hypnotic mantra barely carried to his ears as she slobbered down his cock and took him to the back of her throat once again. He was milked dry, but still she sucked like she was trying to take something from him. The palm of her hand sent chills up his sweat slick body as it found rest on his balls, fondling and playing with them in her grasp. He bucked wildly, leaving her to gag happily knowing he had completely lost control over himself, too blissed out with pleasure to be shy and gentle. He couldn’t bear the sight of her on him: her cheeks hollowed out and her pink lips creating a delectably tight seal around his girth. Watching his dick get used like that, being at her will, knowing she wanted to treat him to a night of pleasure so drawn out and good that it felt torturous, he hit another peak. Only difference this time, he was shooting blanks. It was the first time something like that ever happened. While he wasn’t the most experienced in the world, the small handful of women he had had the chance to spend the night with never went further than sex that felt necessary; this… this was a catered experience, one that only happened because he was willing to spend all night tangled up with her. There were no risks with her, for once something in his life was simply rewards. In the moment, it would be shallow to call this love, to only say “of course I’d spend the rest of my life with this person” when they were gorged on his dick like their life depended on it, but he would have meant it. He would never have let himself be… free in this way if he hadn’t been fully committed to her body and soul. Mouth unyielding and love swelling in his chest, he knew this would be the longest night of his life. He was crying now. His face was wet with sweat and tears, this had to be what dying felt like. She pulled off of him with an un-suctioning pop.

“Give me the word, sweet pea, I’ll stop,” She rose from the position she was crouched in, leaning forwards and taking his cheek in her palm, wiping away the wet. She looked like an angel with the backlighting from the moon. He couldn’t speak, just resigning to shaking his head. Who was he to stop her from having him just how she wanted? He found it criminal to deny her anything she wanted. She leaned down, pressing a chaste, borderline polite, kiss to his lips. “My sweet baby, you’re just gonna let me do anything to you, huh?” She gently laughed. That was definitely a soft way of calling your boyfriend a slut. Like a slut, he wildly nodded, words still trapped in the recesses of his throat behind moaning sounds he almost couldn’t believe were coming out of his mouth. She interlocked her hands with his before bringing her hips down to meet his and create a delicious friction on his cock between the lips of her pussy… how romantic. She ground down, sopping wet from seeing him become a crumpled mess of a grown man, grinding forwards and back. She moaned out with him now, maneuvering to just barely tease her clit on it in the process. His cock twitched against her. “He just doesn’t quit,” Again from the mockery, “Oh~ you’re twisted,” She wickidly grinned as if she were not enactor of his torture.

“Yer evil,” He gritted out, not meaning a single pussy drunk thing he choked out.

“Awe come on… wanna ride that thick cock til I can’t feel my legs.”

“I don’t… I don’t have it in me…” His eyes were already rolling into the back of his head as she changed pace again.

“We both know that that's not true,” She disapprovingly clicked at him through her teeth. She leaned forward, mouth beside his ear. “Then how come yer hard again?” She bit down on his earlobe and he groaned, thrusting his hips upward against her wet center.

“Need to be inside of you, please, please. I need it so bad,” The words were all spilling out now in a desperate fury as he felt how she was almost gushing over him, “All I ever wanted, come on, you said I was a good boy. Please~ please please, prove it, show me how good I am then, please~” She smiled, winning. Lifting her hips up, she sank down so unbearingly slowly according to the way he got immediately huffy, but that was the thing about sex with him, she was always forced to reacclimate to the deliciously tingly stretch of his girthy cock. It was nothing she would ever complain about: a delectable weepy boyfriend who always had these giant puppy dog eyes whenever he looked at you and the most perfect cock to ever be attached to a man’s body. She almost didn’t believe it when she saw it for the first time, he acted like no one ever let him know he was practically wielding a weapon when he got hard. She could fuck herself silly on it before she ever even hit her release, just filling her guts with it.

“Fuck~” He was about halfway in as her walls began to flutter, sending insane sensations through an already raw dick. The burn had her head thrown back in ecstacy. Another moan spilled out and her pussy swallowed up his dick in one slick movement, bottoming out and feeling his dick throbbing within her velvet walls. She gave herself a moment, breathing in time with one another, eyes shut just focusing on the burn. Mike’s hands slipping from hers went unnoticed until a heavy handed thumb landed on her clit. A moan ripped from her throat at the sudden pressure. “Fuck, Mike, fuck, fuck.” Like a chain reaction, thrusting towards the fiery feeling of his digit on her had him shift inside of her and all at once, like a well oiled machine, they began to move in sync with one another, meeting each other in each thrust. His thumb made tight circles on her clit before her hand clamped around his wrist.

“Wha-”

“Nuh uh, gonna cum with you… too pretty looking like this.” He wanted to tell her the same thing as he was watching her take him fully over and over again, “I was already too close watching you get worked up like that,” Who sent this angel to him? “Practically rubbing myself raw looking at you like that.” He was like porn to her, something she could sit back and watch get broken down by pleasure and cream her jeans over like some sort of horny teen. It was just so much sweeter that she got to be the one doing the breaking. She slowed her thrusts, now pulling herself all the way off and then sliding all the way to hilt; the life was being strangled out of him, there were more tears. His tip just barely kissed her cervix each time she filled herself and it made her shiver deliciously. “Fuck, so good, yer so good.” His dick would have gotten harder if it could have. Each pretty praise she sang of his made him want to flip her onto her back and pound her full of cum, but he couldn’t when he was so weak, completely at her mercy. She deserved the mind numbing pleasure tenfold compared to him, there couldn’t be anyone else on the face of the earth willing to dismantle a man piece by piece and take care of him every step of the way. To not humiliate him, but to brush his hair from his eyes and press warm, joyful kisses to his skin and prove that even after another difficult day, she’d still be there just for him. There was a pause as she bottomed out again, followed by a transition, a grinding, forwards and back. Her white knuckle grip released his wrist finally, his thumb immediately finding its place he knew so well. She squeezed so tightly around him now, constricting in a borderline masochist way that had Mike’s teeth gritting. Her body was thrumming as she approached a peak, his cock now manipulated deliciously to grind her g-spot to high hell and his calloused thumb waltzed in memorized circles on her clit. With shaking, trembling legs, she cried out as she came, pussy strangling and drenching his dick as her iron grasp had him orgasming once again. It was like he couldn’t breath as he fought to come down again, the thought crossed his mind of being stuck like this forever as it felt never ending in the moment, what tasty suffering he’d be sentenced to. She continued to grind as she rode out her high, panting and puffing, her tits heaving with each heavy breath. If he could have taken a photo… he would have, and he would have kept it on him at all times. There couldn’t be a better sight in the world, he was sure of it.

Slowing to a complete stop, she pulled herself off of him, resigning to the spot beside him on the bed. They breathed into a peaceful albeit sweaty silence. She stared over at Mike, at his pretty pussy drunk expression.

“C’mere,” She gestured, opening her arms for him, the poor boy needed to be held after everything she had just put him through. He barely had the strength to scootch into her arms. She hummed a content laugh as he found his place resting on her chest. They both had arms around one another, tangled and grasping as if the other would go somewhere. “Thank you.”

“Thank me?” The pitch of his voice raised in shock briefly, “Whuddya mean?” He slurred, “Thank… thank you.”

“Jus, letting me do all that to you, letting down your walls enough to let me take care of you.” She petted his wavy mop of black hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head which he then in turn mimicked back by kissing the hot skin of her chest. “You deserve it.” His heart fluttered in his chest, wedding bells ringing in his ears.

“No one deserves all this,” She let out a confused noise like she got something all wrong, “Deserves you. S’like you’re sent from heaven or something…” His words trailed off.

“You need to get some sleep.” But she was sure he was asleep before she even finished her sentence, quietly breathing a bit deeper than before. She chuckled to herself, pressing another kiss to his head before letting her eyes close and drifting off with him.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader smut #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #fnaf smut #mike schmidt imagine #apollo's writing

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hotluncheddie · 9 months ago

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Wherever you go, that’s where I am.

lovely @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx mentioned writing some more mid 20s, slightly softer body steve <3 so here is: Five times Eddie loves Steve’s body and one time Steve loves Eddie’s

wc: 3.5k | cw: none | rated: M | tags: established relationship, body worship, feral pining goblin eddie munson, chubby steve harrington, fluff, they're in love (so so so in love)

ao3

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Eddie leaps back into the bed, mattress bouncing. He’s been hit with the post coital zoomies, which unfortunately go against Steve’s post nut ritual of passing the fuck out.

But Eddie doesn’t mind. Not when Steve looks so soft, all curled up, laying on his side.

Eddie cleans up, Steve teeters on the verge of sleep until Eddie’s finished and spoons him. It’s foolproof.

He nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder, kissing over the skin and down his back. He traces over the scars at Steve’s hip, just like his own. It still makes Eddie shiver when he thinks about it sometimes, him and his boyfriend, connected like that.

Eddie nuzzled in more and Steve lets out a sleepy groan. He’s so cute when he gets fucked boneless. Eddie would know, he’s the one that gets to do the fucking.

Letting his hands roam further Eddie sneaks around to Steve’s stomach, stroking the soft hairs of his happy trail and letting his fingers press into the slight pudge that sits there now. It feels nice, like his Steve, relaxed and happy and safe.

‘I like this’ Eddie says, giving the soft skin a squeeze.

Steve grunts. ‘Wha?’ Eddie thinks he says, Steve’s face is smushed into the pillow.

Eddie smiles, kisses his shoulder. ‘This.’ Eddie squeezes again, splaying his whole hand over it, pressing his fingers into the warm skin slightly.

Steve just grunts again, turns his head to lay on the pillow properly. ‘I’ll go for a run tomorrow.’ He says, voice still rough with impending sleep.

‘What?’ Eddie asks, because, huh? ‘Steve, I just said I like it.’ and Eddie scoots closer, tries to get a look at Steve’s face over his shoulder.

He seems to be puzzling something out in his head, eyebrows slightly furrowed over his closed eyelids. ‘Oh.’ He says softly. ‘Kay.’ And he shimmies back into Eddie more, face smoothing out.

Eddie squeezes him, tucking him up into his chest. ‘Yeah oh.’ He murmurs, kissing between Steve’s shoulder blades. ‘Silly.’ He adds fondly. Silly guy, how could he think Eddie sees him as anything other than the breathtaking, heavenly angel that he is?

Steve just grunts again, resting his hand over Eddie’s on his stomach and falling dead asleep. His soft snores filling the room.

Eddie resists the urge to bite his shoulder. Instead curling around him more and holding him as close as possible. Maybe they should talk about this at some point, why his mind went where it did.

Not right now though. right now Eddie just lets himself drift off, lulled by the steady breathing of his most favourite person.

Eddie is going to erect an alter. And build a shrine. And kneel before it to give thanks.

And it will all be dedicated to one, Bruce Springsteen.

Eddie will never ever, cross his heart, ever complain about Steve playing ‘Born in the USA’ multiple times in a row. He’ll even put it at the top of his all time album lists. He’ll do it. He will.

Because that album cover, that guy, those songs, inspired his Steve to look like that.

And Eddie has never been a winner. But he hit the fucking jackpot today. Every day. All the days Steve will still let Eddie have him.

The band had taken a trip into Chicago for some very exiting meetings. With Steve, angel that he is, offering to chauffeur so none of them would be too tired, and so they only had to spring for a hotel for one night instead of two.

During said meeting Steve had been entertaining himself. The latest that Eddie got out of had been the longest and most exiting, so he’s happy.

He’s maybe even happier though that Steve found such a productive way to entertain himself.

Because Eddie too, is entertained.

He’s waiting at Steve’s car, leaning against the front bumbler. And Steve, blessed, beautiful, jock that he is, had found the batting cages.

Eddie’s going to write a song about blue jeans. He’s going to send Brucy a letter of thanks for causing Steve to cut the sleeves off his old grey crew neck. He’s going to need to get his mouth on Steve’s dick ASAP if he intends on walking over with his baseball bat over his shoulder the way it is, hips swaying, smug little smirk on his face. Maybe Eddie just needs a lobotomy, it’s all a little too much.

Steve walks right past him, tapping him under the chin as he goes.

Eddie’s mouth was open, respectfully.

Then he hears the boot click open, and Eddie quickly scampers around to the back of the car.

Just in time to watch Steve bend over, putting the bat back, ass round and thick and filling up his jeans oh, so nicely.

Eddie might have to write a whole album about blue jeans actually. Especially these new ones, a size or so bigger since high school, more room to let the full force of Steve show to the world.

It’s just, there’s a certain level more bounce to it all now, and it makes Eddie kind of insane.

And, oh, yep, Steve’s arching his back, okay. He wants Eddie to die, yep, like, actually die, for real.

He’s not even really keeping up the rouse of pretending to be doing something. He’s just bent over with his back arched and his ass sticking out, shirt lifted just enough for Eddie to see the base of his spine.

He’s doing it knowing Eddie’s looking. Knowing they’re in public. Knowing Eddie’s looking but they’re in public so Eddie can’t do anything.

Menace. Brat. Evil. Evil. Evil.

‘Boys are at the diner down the street. Said we’d meet them there.’ Eddie says, monotone, rough and with herculean effort. They need to go. He can’t do any of the many things he wants to to Steve right now. So they should go, for Eddie’s heart and soul and sanity’s sake.

Eddie sighs, he really could look at this scene all day, but that would waste time, valuable, Steve and Eddie alone in the privacy of a room time. Which is sacred.

‘We’ll be home by tonight you know?’ Steve says, leaning on the now closed boot. He’s taking pity on Eddie but he still looks a little smug, which is annoyingly, all, also hot. ‘C’mon, I’ll keep my hand on your thigh on the drive to the diner, the way you like.’ Steve murmurs, coming up behind Eddie and pushing him lightly, steering him towards the car.

‘Home by tonight.’ Eddie parrots, his life line. He’ll be home by tonight, with Steve. Alone with just Steve, and he can do some of the many many things, whatever Steve will let him, whatever Steve wants.

‘You come here often?’ Steve asks, grin loose and sloppy, eyes lidded. One arm resting on the doorframe next to Eddie’s head. Steve’s staring at his lips.

Eddie smiles at him, tucks a lock of hair behind Steve’s ear. Cradling his cheek Eddie shakes Steves head slightly. ‘I do baby. I live here.’ And Steve giggles, tucks his head into Eddie’s neck, like this is the best news in the world.

They’ve just got in from the bar, Steve crowding into Eddie’s space as soon as he got the door locked. Robin found a girl, away for the night. Steve had a couple more than normal to drink.

Eddie can’t help but laugh along with him, kissing the side of his head and resting his hands on his hips to start walking them backwards towards their room. ‘C’mon big boy.’ He says, just to make Steve giggle more.

Steve lifts his head back up, smile still big and loose, eyes still lidded. ‘Dance with me?’ He asks, like Eddie can’t tell he’s twenty minutes away for being passed out in bed, his fruity drinks always making him crash eventually.

But Eddie can’t really say no to Steve, especially not when he’s like this, care free and blinding. When he’s beautifully alive.

Eddie takes a step back, takes Steve’s hand and twirls him. Steve stumbles slightly, laughing again.

With his arm up Eddie can see some of his soft hip and belly as his t-shirt lifts, can see that his jeans are unbuttoned. Which is not surprising since they’re practically painted on. Steve explained that he likes feeling Eddie up against him when they dance, likes the way Eddie’s eyes sharpen if someone looks a little too long. And oh, people look, it’s not just Eddie who notices how those jeans fit, how wonderful Steve always looks.

But Eddie’s the only one who gets to see Steve like this. Home at the end of the night. When Steve needs that extra room, when he lets his soft parts breathe a little better. When he relaxes fully.

That’s just for Eddie. And it’s the best part.

Eddie twirls Steve again and lets him fall back into his chest. Giggles dying out slowly and breath coming deeper and slower. Steve hums, squeezing Eddie’s middle and breathing in the skin behind his ear. Steve leaves kisses down Eddie’s neck, a little wet, making Eddie shiver. Steve hums and does it again. ‘Love you.’ He whispers, holding Eddie close.

Eddie squeezes back, his heart bursting. ‘Love you too baby.’ He says into Steve’s hair, into his bones, into all his soft wonderful edges. ‘Let me take my love to bed now, hm?’ He asks, dipping his hands into Steve’s back pockets, squeezing just to feel Steve tense and then relax against him.

Steve nods, still in Eddie’s neck. One last kiss and he’s moving. Pulling Eddie by the hand through to their room. Kicking off his shoes and falling onto the bed with Eddie on top of him. Steve’s eyes already closed, breath already slowing and deepening. Like he knows Eddie will take care of the rest of their clothes, knows Eddie will tuck the blanket up around him, will hold Steve close all night. Knows Eddie will take care of him

Because Eddie will. Always.

‘Looking good Munson.’ Steve says, jogging past Eddie, panting slightly, smacking Eddie on the ass. Making Eddie jolt and almost spill his coffee.

He was leaning against the car door, face hidden in his arms because he’s just had to watch his very hot boyfriend complete his weekly work out at the park. Running, push-ups, the whole horrible lot.

And its ass o’clock in the morning because Eddies vans broke and he needs a ride to work, but he wants his love to have hobbies and be happy and Steve can only get him there if Eddie came along to watch. So, really, Eddie can deal with the early morning but, he’s not sure if his dick can.

Because ass.

Ass, was right.

And hip. And thigh. And bicep. And back.

Steve is chugging his water, sweaty. His shirt is cropped, his shorts are short and he’s wearing a backwards baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face.

He’s even got tube socks pulled up over his hairy calf’s.

He looks like a spread from the magazine Eddie used to keep under his mattress. It was dog eared and kind of, maybe, a little bit.. Sticky.

And Steve knows about the magazine.

Steve knows what he’s doing to Eddie right now.

Eddie glares at him over his largest they own coffee cup. It’s so early and the shirts a little see through. The shorts dig in to the softness at his hips, cut so high Eddie can see the smooth skin of his inner thighs. He watches the muscle and slight chub move when Steve shifts on his feet.

Eddie walks up to him. Knocking his head between Steve’s beautiful, wonderful, hairy, sweaty pecs. Thud thud thud.

Eddie groans.

Why does his boyfriend have to be so stupidly, annoyingly hot right before work?

Eddie wordlessly follows Steve’s lead and gets back in the car. He glares at the amused smile on Steves face, but then Steve checks all around to make sure the park is still blessedly empty and kisses Eddie sweetly on the temple. Eddie sighs, mollified, he can get over it.

But then Steve puts his arm around the back of Eddie’s seat, swivelling to look out the back as he reverses. Eddie’s hit with his body heat and smell, all detergent and cologne mixed with sweat and musk and Steve.

His broad chest right by Eddie’s head, a peak of pink nipple through white cotton, the chain Eddie got him for Christmas dangling into his chest hair. He’s so capable and in control, practical and smart and…

Eddie back at square one. He can’t get over it actually. It’s early and Steve is being a brat dressing like that. Being so hot on purpose. It’s so mean.

‘You wanna stop for breakfast?’ Steve asks, voice light.

‘Yeh.’ Eddie grunts, voice small, hands shoved in his jacket.

‘What d’you want?’ and Eddie can hear the amused smile on Steves face again, his voice a little patronising.

But Eddie doesn’t care. ‘You.’ He whines, resisting the urge to straddle Steve’s thighs and wrap his arms around his middle and squeeze him. He’d be so warm, and sweaty and soft and strong and perfect.

They could just make out! Eddie could probably survive all day if he got a bit of tongue down his throat.

‘Well, I’m getting a breakfast sandwich.’ Steve says, switching to drive and Eddie just whines again, burying his head in his hands.

It’s a routine, Eddie doing this for Steve, to make sure his scars heal properly. They won’t ever fade fully but the ointment helps, the doctor said it would, and Eddie likes doing it. Sitting on the edge of the bed and having Steve stand between his thighs, shirt off before him. Eddie likes taking care of Steve like this. Likes that Steve lets him.

‘You’ve got a new one.’ Eddie says, running the cream over Steve’s skin.

Steve tenses, looks down at himself. ‘What?’ He asks, confused, a little stressed.

Eddie hushes him, leans forward and kisses the skin below his bellybutton lightly, before smearing the cream there too. ‘Shh. Here.’ He prods the stretch mark that travels over the softness that now covers Steve’s hip bone, his fingers pressing into the give.

Steve cranes his neck to look at it, squeezing the skin to inspect it. But he grips so hard, Eddie smacks his hand away gently. ‘Careful.’ He says. Petting over the redness Steve left. ‘That’s my sweetheart you're man handling there, show some respect.’ And he leans back to look up at Steves face.

His cheeks are red and he looks annoyed, brows furrowed and lips pursed in a pout. ‘What is it love?’ Eddie asks, resting his hands on Steve’s sides.

‘S’ugly’ Steve mumbles, moving his arms like he wants to cross them but Eddie shifts a little closer and Steve re routs to place them on Eddie’s shoulders with a sigh.

Eddie kisses his stomach again. Kisses the stretch mark, the scars that travel over his waist. Does the same to the other side. ‘Nah.’ Eddie disagrees softly. ‘You’re beautiful Steve, all your marks are.’ And Eddie kisses his favourite mole, the one that sits below his left pec. ‘But this one’s my new favourite part.’ And he rubs his thumb over the red lightning bold, looks at Steve again. His eyes wide and glassy, his mouth relaxed into the pretties little ‘o’.

‘Shows how much you’ve grown, how much you’ve healed. It’s all yours baby.’ And he watches Steve swallow, nod his head.

Eddie goes back to spreading the ointment over Steve’s skin, taking his time, and when he’s finished he lays Steve down, pushing him into the mattress, breathing him in. Promising over and over that he’s so beautiful, so strong and amazing. That Eddie loves him, always has and always will. Until Steve believes him. Until every inch of skin is covered in kisses and praise. Until he’s writhing and panting in the sheets. Eddie kissing his tears away, their lips meeting, salty and slick.

They fall asleep wrapped up in each other. Eddie almost fully drifted off but not before he feels a final, butterfly light peck on his throat. A little ‘thank you’ whispered into the skin. It’s so quiet he almost misses it. He pulls Steve closer, holds him tighter, and let's sleep take him.

On Sundays Steve makes breakfast. Or brunch, really, because they always sleep in. But breakfast food, late every Sunday morning.

He always wakes up first anyway. So he starts cooking while Eddie gets another hour or so of rest. It’s like he stacks them up, needs them to get him through the week. The extra on Sunday allowing him a hour or two leeway for late night Eddie Time after his shifts. Steve doesn’t mind, lets him sleep.

This week it’s french toast and scrabbled eggs, a little fruit, and, like every morning, coffee.

Steve hears the telltale thud of Eddie stumbling out of bed. Hears his footsteps travel from the bedroom to the bathroom, and finally into their little kitchen. Where he feels sleep warm arms wrap around his middle.

Steve smiles into the pan of eggs, Eddie resting his head between Steve’s shoulder blades and sighing. He always takes a long time to wake up, and he’s cute the whole time doing it.

When he’s had his fill of squeezing Steve, sleepy hands wandering around his torso, head nuzzling against the soft cotton of Steve’s t-shirt, Eddie goes to pore himself coffee. Fills it with milk and sugar before shuffling over the the kitchen table.

He sits in their creaky wooden chairs, huddled around his steaming mug, eyes bleary and hair a messy halo around his head. Eddie blinks his big brown cow eyes so slowly, staring at nothing.

Steve turns off the burners and watches the soft spring light fall over eddies shoulders, leaving patches of yellow over his bare skin. Warming the mottled pinks and reds. A patch of light over his thigh, a golden window on the flannel of his low slung pyjama pants.

his scars have healed well, even with all the grafting and scarring, the doctors managed to do enough to let him survive, let his body become what it is now. he’s stronger, looks healthier than he used to, all the physical therapy and three square meals a day gave him some more definition, more colour in his cheeks. but he’s still wiry, still pale and a little gangly, able to curl up into a ball or spread out and command a whole room.

He has new tattoos too, stretching over scar and skin. Painting him on the outside with all the wonder and creativity he has swirling in his head. They’re so a part of him, such a perfect addition. The pale tones of pink contrasted with patches of inky black.

Steve can’t believe it sometimes. That guy he saw in the lunch halls, the one he met in the upside down. Those awful months of Eddie in the hospital. To get to see him now, have him now, this Eddie Munson. His Eddie.

Steve just.

Steve can’t take it.

He steps over, cradling Eddie’s cheeks between his hands. looks down and his loves face. Awed that he gets to see Eddie like this, before all that energy hits him, before his fingers start tapping and his feet need to move, to run, to jump. Gets to see him soft, and quiet and slow. Gets to see his eyes bright and glassy and teary and tired. Gets to see the hunch of his shoulders around his coffee mug, and the curl of his toes against the linoleum. Gets him at his rockstar and his sniffles, at his post work rant and his pre weekend buzz.

He gets to see all of him. Hard and soft. Dark and light.

It’s magical.

‘I love you.’ Steve says, for the hundredth, thousandth time. Kissing Eddie on the lips for the millionth, trying to infuse him with everything Steve has, all the love, all the awe. Tries to put it all there in the kiss.

When he pulls away Eddie’s sleepy eyes look that little bit brighter, his cheekbones dusted pink. The way they do sometimes when Eddie says Steve gives him “too much attention”. Like Eddie forgets, forgets how much space he fills up in Steve’s brain, his memories, his daydreams. How he can’t look at the sky day or night without being reminded in some way of Eddie. ‘So pretty.’ Steve traces his thumbs over the flush, the tips of Eddie’s ears, fingers trailing over his jaw and scarred neck.

He kisses Eddie’s forehead and goes to plate the eggs, goes to finish their breakfast. Goes just so he can come back, hold Eddie’s hand, watch him wake up.

He hopes to every morning.

For as long as Eddie with let him.

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tagging list: @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

also just bc i think you might enjoy: @babydollbaron @spectrum-spectre

title from the Maggie Rodger’s song ‘That’s where I am’ (it’s rly good u should listen to it)

#hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #my fic #chubby steve harrington #but only a little #but bigger than in the show #so i’m tagging it #bc it’s important to me #:)#this was fun and gooey to write #i hope it’s funny too lol

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kaleldobrev · 27 days ago

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Jennifer Love Hewitted (6) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Joey Baxter (Ghost!OC) & Dr. Falko (Ghost!OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing (2x), Age Gap (15 years), Emotional Bonding, Vulnerable Dean, Vulnerable Reader, Misogynistic Comments & Sexual Tension

Authors Note: Get ready for some traumatic reader backstory of why she got into hunting | One more part after this guys! | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | As always, thoughts are in italics and the “POV’s” switch between Dean & Reader | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⬸ Go Back & Read Chapter 5

Dean took over driving for you, as you looked out of the passenger side window; tears still slightly in your eyes. You were almost done telling the story of how you started hunting, but yet, there was still so much to tell. But even with the small amount you had told Dean, it was an amount that people rarely got — it was basically the extent of the knowledge your parents were given.

“Can I ask you something?” Dean asked, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, and nodded. “Of course.”

“It’s about Joey,” Dean began. “And I’ll preface this now, you don’t have to answer. I just wanna understand.”

“What about Joey?” You asked.

“Is the reason your speciality is in poltergeists, is because Joey was one?” He asked, and you felt your heart almost sink, and your face slowly dropped into a frown.

“Y-yeah,” you mumbled. “Yes,” you answered again, but more prominently. “His…his spirit was attached to his dog tags but…not anymore. I um…I was able to put him to rest.”

“Without burning them?” Dean questioned, slightly intrigued. “Huh,” he said, tilting his head.

You nodded. “When his parents got his dog tags and the flag, they told me that if I ever wanted to come over and just sit in his room, I could. And for the longest time, I just…I couldn’t do it. I felt like if I did, I would break down, and I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to just sit in his room and stare at all the pictures of him and reminisce about all the memories we had together. But, that changed when I overheard his mother talking to my mom about how things in his room wouldn’t be where they used to be. Or how randomly certain objects would be broken.” You sighed, thinking back. “I asked her if I could sit in his room for a while, and when I did, it felt…weird. Weird in the sense of, there was this energy that was there that was confused.”

“And that was Joey?” Dean asked, and you nodded in response.

“When I was sitting in his room, I…saw him. And, it’s weird because…I wasn’t scared. I would have been I mean, normal people get scared when they see ghosts but…not me…I was…happy in a way because I didn’t properly get to say goodbye to him.”

5 years ago…

As you sat on the floor thinking about all of the memories you had with Joey, and the moments that you knew would never happen with him, your heart felt crushed, and your stomach felt like it was in knots. You had lost a person you had known practically your entire life, someone that you had loved with all of your being, and you never got to say goodbye to him; and never got to tell him how much he truly meant to you. Yes, Joey knew how much you had loved him, but he (at least you thought), didn’t know the extent in which you did.

Your parents and his would often joke that the two of you would end up together; and what started out as a joke, was something that sounded like a strong and real possibility to you, it was something that you didn’t dislike by any means. He was kind, funny, and made you feel safe. He was someone that you could talk to about anything, and would always listen to you ramble on about anything. You loved him, and even now, you weren’t entirely sure if it was romantic or platonic love — you just knew that you loved him, and loved the idea of spending the rest of your life with him, no matter what that looked like.

“Oh Joey,” you mumbled, hugging your knees close to your chest, staring down at the floor.

“I miss you so much,” you heard a male voice say; the voice sounding scarily similar to Joey’s. “I wish you could see me.”

You felt like you should be scared hearing his voice, but you weren’t. Everything in your entire body was giving the exact opposite — you were glad, glad to hear the sound of his voice.

As you started to look up from the floor, you noticed brown boots with legs attached to them, that weren’t there previously. Your heart was rushing, but you felt calm at the same time. When you had looked up, the legs that were attached to those boots were Joey. He wasn’t solid, but he was solid enough that it felt like he was actually standing there. “Joey,” you said, and smiled briefly, trying to contain the tears in your eyes.

“You can see me?” He asked, his tone mixed with happiness, confusion and relief.

“Yes,” you nodded. “And I miss you too.”

Present Day…

“I was able to put him to rest by telling him that I loved him.” You stopped picking at your cuticles and looked up at Dean, who was now looking back at you. You couldn’t tell what look he was giving you, but it was far from pity; and you were extremely thankful for that, because the last thing you wanted was for him to pity you. “And I think that’s all he wanted to hear, because as soon as I said that, he said he saw a woman that wanted to take him.”

“He saw a reaper,” Dean stated.

“He did,” you replied back. “And that’s why my specialty is in poltergeists, and why I got into hunting the way I did. I wanted to be able to not only help people but…monsters that might have lost their way.”

“You’re the only person besides me that knows the full story,” you stated.

Dean didn’t know what to say, but he was intrigued to say the least, hearing how you got into hunting so young, and how you viewed monsters compared to other hunters he had met over the years. When he first started out, he didn’t view it the way you had viewed it, nor did he view the way he did now. He was raised to believe that hunting was black and white and there was no gray area. There was either good or evil. But over the years, he had come to realize that hunting wasn’t as black and white as his father had led on; that there were so many gray areas he didn’t realize were there. And besides Bobby, brother, and Garth, you were one of the first hunters to have that point of view. It was refreshing.

“Thanks for telling me,” Dean said. “I know it must of been hard to. Getting into this line of work ain’t easy, that��s for sure.”

“It sure isn’t. My parents didn’t want me to do this obviously but, they know that there is nothing else I’d rather do than this,” you said, and he could hear a slight smile on your lips. “I feel, I feel like hunting is what I was meant to do.”

Dean couldn’t help but agree, as much as he wanted to disagree. For years, he had mixed feelings about hunting. He’s loved and hated it on and off. At times, he felt that this was the only thing he could see himself doing, but at others, he saw himself doing a variety of other things than this. Mechanic, firefighter; those were his top two. Hell, even rock star at one point.

Multiple times, he had tried to have a normal life away from all this; but each and every time, he always managed to get roped back in. He knew, that as long as he was alive, this is what he was going to be doing, whether he liked it or not. He was meant for this like you were.

Arriving at the university, Dean didn’t pull into the lot as when the two of you were doing some reconnaissance on the place, you had found that the university parking lot (mainly the medical building) had a crap ton of cameras; and the last thing either one of you wanted was to have your truck or his Baby tracked by the police. You have never been on the police’s radar, but Dean on the other hand, had been on the FBI’s Most Wanted list more times than he could count at this point — an impressive yet not so impressive feat in itself.

Walking to the back of the building, you managed to find a dumpster that was conveniently below a window that the two of you could jump on and use as a way to get in. “Jack pot,” you grinned. “Lift me up?” You asked Dean.

As Dean lifted you, you couldn’t help but notice how gentle he was weirdly being; and you weren’t quite sure why. “Now’s not the time to be gentle,” you said, and you heard Dean let out a small chuckle.

“Kinky,” you saw him wink, and you rolled your eyes at his response.

Getting on top of the dumper, Dean followed you up, and you opened up the window; thankful that it was weirdly not locked, and shimmied your way in; followed by Dean, who had a little bit more of a struggle getting into the window than you did.

Compared to your graceful fall to your feet from the window, Dean on the other hand…not so much, as he practically fell almost face first onto the floor. Hearing the loud thud, your heart started to beat wildly, praying no one else was here that could have possibly heard that. You turned to Dean, who was currently getting up from the floor, wiping his jeans off as he stood up. “You okay there Spider-Man?” You joked, smirking at him.

“You okay there Spider-Man?” He mocked, mumbling.

Finding the medical instruments was the easy part, but the not so easy part was them being behind some glass. “Okay MacGuyver, you have anything to break this?” He asked. “Because the only way I see breaking this glass is with my gun.”

You gave him a confused look. “Shooting the glass is your first instinct?” He shrugged. “Interesting,” you said, tilting your heard. “I have this.” You went into your pocket and pulled out a large hunting knife, handing it handle first to Dean. “Would you like to do the honors?” Dean looked at the knife for a moment, eyeing it up and down. “Take it, it won’t bite,” you said.

Taking the knife from your hand, Dean held it in his for a moment. “This fit in your pocket?” He asked. You were intrigued that, that was what he was most interested in, not the fact that you had a large hunting knife like that in your pocket to begin with.

“Yeah. You can never be too prepared,” you said, shrugging.

“Couldn’t agree more,” he grinned, as he started making clean cuts on the glass.

He was impressed by how sharp this knife was, and how easily you had managed to fit this in your jacket pocket given the length. What impressed him even more was the fact that you didn’t even have anything covering the blade; it was simply just protected by the pocket inside your jacket.

The more time he spent with you, the more he didn’t want to spend without you. In the short amount of time he had spent with you, he had felt a sense of peace and comfort; something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Yes, he felt a sense of peace at the Bunker, and sometimes around Sam and Cas; but, with you, it was a different kind of peace and comfort, like he could be more himself around you. And he guessed that you may have felt the same way, as you told him the story about Joey, a story that you never really told people, but had told him. You even cried in front of him.

Holding you in the truck while you were crying, he didn’t feel bad for you, and he didn’t pity you; he understood the hurt that you were feeling, and understood the kind of pain that you were feeling. So many times in his life, he has had to say goodbye to the ones he loved; and it always felt like a knife to the chest or a bullet to the heart. It reminded him of the feeling he experienced when the Hell Hounds ripped him to shreds before he went to Hell.

Once Dean cut the glass, he handed you back your knife, and he started to remove the instruments one by one. The both of you exchanging looks of confusion. “Why does this feel like it’s too easy?” You asked him.

“If it’s too easy, we’re probably missing something,” Dean suggested. “It’s never this fucking easy.”

As if that was some kind of cue, Falko appeared in front of you. The look on his face wasn’t one of anger, it looked almost confused. “What are you doing?” He asked, and you and Dean exchanged looks again before looking at Falko.

“Please tell me you’re seeing that too?” You asked Dean.

“I sure am,” he said, continuing to make eye contact with the spirit.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Falko said, this time, his tone was angrier; his hands behind his back.

Dean looked at you, and gave you the look. “What?” You whispered to him.

“Do the thing,” Dean half whispered.

“What thing?” You whispered back.

“That poltergeist sixth sense shit you did with Joey,” he said.

“What makes you think it’s gonna work on him?” You whispered through gritted teeth.

As if Falko was tired of you and Dean going back and forth, he snapped his fingers, and both you and Dean were on the other side of the room, pinned against the wall. “I don’t like when people touch my equipment,” he said calmly. He tried to touch his own equipment that you and Dean had removed from the glass, but it was useless, his fingers just went through them. “All I want to do is finish my work, and I can’t do that if people keep taking what’s mine,” his voice was starting to get angry now.

“Are you sure you can’t do the thing?” Dean asked, looking at you, the two of you still pinned to the wall.

You rolled your eyes. “No Dean, I can’t do the thing.”

“Can you try?” Dean asked, his voice almost begging, but not fully; it almost sounded a tad desperate.

You rolled your eyes again. “For the love of,” you mumbled. “Hey doctor Falko,” you said, and Falko looked at you. “I know how you can finish your work.”

He tilted his head and walked toward you; the smell of blood and rubbing alcohol hit your nose. “How my dear?” He asked. “Are you going to let me continue my work on you?” He reached out his hand toward your hair, and much like the instruments, he couldn’t touch you.

“No, but, I can do you something better,” you began. “You may not like the sound of it but, it’s the only way you’ll be able to finish your work. You just have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” He asked, and he let out a small chuckle. “But you’re a woman my dear. Why should I trust anything a woman has to say?” Wow, misogynistic much? You thought, trying your best not to roll his eyes.

“Fine don’t trust me. Then you’ll never know how you can continue on with your work,” you said. “Your life’s work, might I add.”

Falko looked between you and Dean, and it seemed as though Falko was starting to get frustrated with you. You were teasing him, and his ego wouldn’t allow someone like you to do that to him. That’s when Falko looked over at Dean. “Do you know what she is talking about?” He moved close to Dean, and it was his turn to smell the rubbing alcohol and blood in his nose now. “Huh, what’s this?” He asked, and reached out toward Dean. Part of his sleeve had fell down his arm, revealing the Mark. “Never in my years have I ever seen such a thing.” Again, Falko couldn’t touch what he wanted, and both you and Dean were starting to see him getting more and more frustrated.

“I’ll make you a deal —” Dean began.

Falko chuckled. “You’re in no position to be making deals with me, son.”

“Fine. Don’t make a deal with me. Then you’ll never know what this beauty can do,” Dean teased, grinning at the doctor.

“The both of you are infuriating,” Falko mumbled harshly. “What’s the deal? I need to finish my life’s work. I’ll do anything to be remembered.”

Jackpot, Dean thought. “I’ll tell you what this can do if you listen to her first. If you don’t listen to her, then no deal.”

“I could always just kill you both,” Falko said, as he started pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back.

“You could but, then you’ll never know the things that him and I know. We’re the only ones that can tell you how you can finish your life’s work without interruption and all of the resources you could ever dream of,” the words you spoke rolled off your tongue with ease. How many times have you done this before? Dean wondered.

Falko was starting to get more angry, items in the room you were in were starting to shake, and shake violently. “Last chance doctor,” you said. You had no fear in this situation, and Dean was impressed at how calm you were right now. The items kept shaking violently, and you were still calm as could be. “Five…four…” you started to count down, and the more you counted, the more violent the shaking got. “Two…”

“Okay!” Falko shouted, and everything stopped shaking, you and Dean fell to the ground. “Tell me,” he said, as he stood over you. Dean couldn’t help but start to tense up, seeing how close the doctor was to you. He didn’t want anything to happen to you; he would never be able to forgive himself if something did. But he knew deep down, that you could handle yourself — he needed to trust you in this moment like you’ve trusted him this far.

You got up, and the doctor towered over you. “May I?” You asked him, his facial expression not happy in the slightest. You were the last person he had wanted to trust right now, but he nodded.

You walked over to his instruments, and picked them up, placing them in a small metal bowl on the table. You made sure to keep eye contact with the doctor so he could see every single one of your movements. You bent down just enough to grab the rubbing alcohol from below the table and started to slowly pour them onto the instruments. Falko was about to open up his mouth, but you started talking before he could say anything. “I’m cleaning them. Once I clean them, I’ll be able to show you,” you reassured him. His hands quickly turned into fists. “I’m going into my pocket to grab my lighter.” You slowly went into your pocket and grabbed your lighter, Falko watching your every move. You didn’t know how this was working, but for a doctor, he was incredibly naive.

Quickly, fire appeared from it, and you placed it into the bowl, Falko’s face changed instantly. “What…” he mumbled. And he looked down; flames starting to appear at his feet and moved upwards towards his torso. “What did you do? You stupid girl!” He screamed.

You smirked. “Showing you how to continue your life’s work. I thought that’s what you wanted?” Your smirk continued as both you and Dean watched Falko disappear into flames, listening to him scream in an agony that you were strangely used to when it came to a salt and burn.

Within minutes, Falko completely disappeared, and the instruments started to blacken. “You full on Jennifer Love Hewitted him,” Dean said impressed.

⤑ Move Forward & Read The Epilogue (Not yet available)

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nova-is-a-writer-now · 1 month ago

Text

Hidden embers

Chapter 6

Chapter summary: They say drunken words are sober thoughts, and Joel is about to hear all about yours.

A/N: Hello hello, HE wednesday is back!!! Im so excited about this chapter, it might be the longest one so far. I wanted to wait until i had chapter 7 completed before i posted this but I can’t wait any longer for y’all to read this, i appreciate the comments and reposts you guys have been giving me SO MUCH, it fills my heart 🤍 anyways enough yapping, enjoy!!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no use of y/n, no sarah, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Slow burn, a tiny bit of angst, Alcohol consumption.

Series masterlist

You're halfway down the cereal aisle, arms full of groceries because, as usual, you convinced yourself you didn’t need a basket. Just a few things, you thought—when have you ever had that kind of self-control?

You shift the items in your grasp, trying to keep them from toppling over, when you hear a voice behind you

“Oh, bless your heart, need some help with that?”

You turn to see a blonde girl about your age, her smile warm and her Southern drawl as sweet as honey. She’s holding a basket in one hand and offering you the other

You chuckle, a little relieved. “Please. I thought I could manage, but I clearly overestimated myself.”

“Here, take mine,” she says, handing you her basket. “I’ll grab another.”

Before you can thank her, she’s already grabbed a new basket from nearby, her movements quick and effortless.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” you say, feeling the weight lift from your arms.

“No trouble at all,” she replies with a bright smile. “I’m Charlotte, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m—”

“—I know who you are,” she cuts in, her smile widening. “Our dads are friends. Your’s always braggin’ ‘bout you.”

You chuckle at that. “Yeah I think he’s mentioned yours too, Bill and Frank, right?”

“That’s them,” she grins. “We live just a few blocks down from your place.” As you both walk down the aisle together, she glances over at you with a curious look. “You just moved back, right? How’re you liking small-town life?”

“I’m… taking it day by day,” you say, half-joking.

“That bad, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You could say that.”

She gently touches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Got any plans this Friday?”

“Not really, why?”

She gives you a grin that could charm the pants off just about anyone. “A few of us are going out. Just some drinks, a few laughs. Maybe a fun night out is what you need.”

You think it over for a moment. Sure, you’ve kept in touch with your college friends, but since moving back, you haven’t really hung out with anyone besides your parents. And, well… Joel.

The thought is enough to convince you. “Yeah, alright. I’m in.”

“Perfect! I’ll swing by and pick you up around seven. You won’t regret it, promise.” She winks and turns down the next aisle, leaving you with a lighter heart and a basket full of groceries.

It took a while, but you finally dug out the perfect black top from the back of your closet. Paired with some flared jeans and a leather jacket slung over your arm, you had yourself a killer outfit.

You hopped down the stairs, hearing the hum of Charlotte’s car idling out front.

“Mom! Dad! I’m heading out now, I’ll be back around midnight!” you call, pulling the jacket on as you reach the bottom step.

Your mom emerges from the kitchen, a towel in her hands, mid-dry. “Heading out where?”

You sigh, already regretting the interaction. “With Charlotte, mom. I told you earlier.”

“Oh, Charlie! She’s a darling. She’s doing the pageant this year, you know? Took a bit of convincing, but she’s a star. I’ve got all my money on her winning. That body, that face—she’s got it in the bag.” Her eyes flick over you then, slowly dragging up and down your own body. “Glad you’re hanging out with her, maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.”

You’re used to the digs—decades of practice, really—but lately, it’s been harder to brush off. The grip you have on your emotions feels like it’s slipping more every day.

Still, you hold back the biting retort on the tip of your tongue. Not worth starting a third world war over this.

“Goodnight, mom.”

You turn and walk out the door, heading straight for Charlotte’s car, ignoring the sting of her words as best you can.

The car ride there flies by. Charlotte, despite your previous judgment after your mom mentioned her being a pageant girl, is beyond fun. You do karaoke the whole way there, getting to know each other a bit better in between songs. She’s not just sweet but also insanely smart. She’s finishing up nursing school and has her entire future pretty much planned out. You envy her a little for that last part.

Once she parks in front of the bar, she turns to you and says, “You ready to wild out?”

You laugh, nerves bubbling under the surface, trying to play it off. “Always ready to wild out.”

Stepping out of the car, you smooth down your top and follow Charlotte toward the entrance. The place is a little louder than you anticipated, music spilling out into the night air along with bursts of laughter. It’s a small town bar, but it’s packed.

“Come on, let’s get a drink first!” Charlotte grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd with ease, like she’s been here a hundred times before. You feel the warmth of her energy, the way she confidently navigates the room, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease.

At the bar, Charlotte orders for both of you, flashing the bartender a bright smile as he hands over two drinks. She passes you one. “Here’s to new friends,” she says, raising her glass.

“To new friends,” you echo, clinking your glass with hers before taking a sip. The burn of alcohol feels like the start of something good, a buzz already settling in.

Charlotte leans closer, her voice cutting through the noise. “So… any cute guys on your radar tonight?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not really here for that.”

“Oh, come on, there’s gotta be someone.” She gives you a teasing nudge, but when you hesitate, her eyes narrow in playful suspicion. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’ve got a guy already?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and suddenly, Joel flashes in your mind. You try to shake it off, but Charlotte’s quick. She catches the flicker of emotion on your face, and her smile shifts into something more knowing.

“Oh, girl… you do, don’t you?”

You can’t help the way your face heats up, and you take another long sip of your drink to cover it. “It’s not like that.”

Charlotte leans in, her smile turning mischievous. “Uh-huh. Sure it isn’t. Spill—who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, feeling a little ridiculous. You came out tonight to get away from these thoughts, not drown in them.

“Complicated usually means interesting,” she says, taking a sip from her own glass. “Is it someone I’d know?”

You hesitate. The thought of saying Joel’s name out loud feels… wrong, somehow. Like it’ll make everything you’ve been wrestling with real, something you can’t just shove aside like you’ve been trying to. You shift in your seat, tapping your fingers against the cool glass.

“Maybe,” you finally admit, your voice quieter now. “But it’s not a good idea. He’s older. Like, way older.”

Charlotte raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not judging. “Well, you’re an adult, that shouldn’t be much of an issue. If the chemistry’s there, it’s there.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that, he’s also a family friend. I don’t even know if he’d be interested, you know? It’s just too messy.”

Charlotte gives you a sympathetic look. “I get it. Messy’s never fun.” She takes a deep breath before flashing you a soft smile. “But for what it’s worth, you don’t have to feel guilty about liking someone, even if it feels complicated.”

You let her words hang in the air for a moment, absorbing them. You know she’s right, but knowing doesn’t make it any easier.

“Come on,” Charlotte says, pulling you from your thoughts. She stands, taking her drink with her. “Let’s dance. Forget about the complicated stuff for a while.”

You give her a small smile, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, okay.”

You follow her to the dance floor, the thrum of the music vibrating through your body as you try to let yourself go, to let the rhythm take over and drown out the noise in your head.

A little while passes before Charlotte’s friends finally arrive. She spots them first, waving them over from where you're both standing near the dance floor.

“Over here!” she calls out, her voice rising above the music. “Guys, this is the girl I was telling y’all about.”

You turn to see a group heading your way—two girls and a guy, all dressed up but casual in a way. The girls reach you first, both of them with that same easy warmth Charlotte exudes.

“This is Amber,” Charlotte says, gesturing to a brunette with big doe eyes and gorgeous caramel skin.

Amber flashes you a wide grin. “Hey! So nice to finally meet you. Glad you survived a car ride with Charlotte, without any permanent hearing loss, I hope?”

Charlotte gasps, playfully smacking Amber on the arm. “Excuse me, my car concerts are a privilege to experience.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly, the karaoke was the best part.”

Amber raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “See? She gets it.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes before motioning to the girl beside Amber. “And this is Josie,” she introduces, pointing to the girl with sleek black hair and striking hazel eyes.

“Hey there,” Josie says, pulling you in for a quick, friendly hug. “Welcome to the chaos.”

You chuckle, feeling instantly comfortable around them. Charlotte then glances over her shoulder at the guy lingering behind the girls—a tall, brown-haired guy with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, and this is Alex. He’s Amber’s brother” she adds, nodding toward him.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Alex says, stepping forward with a relaxed grin. “Charlotte’s been talking about you all week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “All good things, I hope?”

He nods, his voice smooth and calm. “All great things.”

His energy is different from the girls—more laid-back—but he’s just as welcoming.

The rest of the night is exactly that—effortless fun. Laughter flows as freely as the drinks, your mind slipping into a peaceful place that you haven’t felt since you got back. It’s a feeling you cling to, desperate to keep it alive for as long as you can. Like being wrapped in a bubble where everything is light, easy, and uncomplicated. You don’t want it to burst.

But eventually, thirst creeps in, and you find yourself craving another drink. You make your way to the bar, Alex trailing behind you.

“You having fun?” he asks, once you both have drinks in hand.

You nod, smiling as you prop your head up on your closed fist. “Actually, yeah. A lot more than I expected.”

Alex chuckles, leaning against the bar, his eyes studying you in that way you’ve seen before—soft but curious. “Well, contrary to popular belief, us small-town folk know how to have fun too.”

His smile is kind, warm. It suits him. You take a moment to really look at him, now that you're out of the haze of the dance floor and the dim lighting. He’s undeniably handsome—those soft features, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins. He feels safer, easier. A lot more inviting and open than… fuck.

Even as you take in all of Alex’s best features, your thoughts drift elsewhere. To a man whose presence has been ingrained in your brain for the past month. The way his rough edges make him so different from Alex. How his gaze isn’t soft at all, it lingers like a weight, heavy and consuming in a way that you can’t shake off.

Fuck.

You’re sitting here, comparing this sweet, charming guy to Joel, trying to convince yourself to like Alex more. You should. He’s age appropriate, and your dad would love him. It would make everything so much simpler. But no matter how hard you try, Joel lingers in the back of your mind, refusing to leave you alone. You haven’t been able to escape him, not even with a handsome guy straight-up flirting with you at a bar.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. You blink, lost in the mess of your thoughts.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice pulls you back to the moment, concern etched on his face. “You alright? Where’d you go?”

You force a smile, waving it off like it’s nothing. “Sorry, just spaced out for a second.” But the truth is, you’re spiraling, and you desperately need air. Suddenly, all the drinks you've downed feel like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything looks hazy and blurry, and you just need space.

Once the bartender hands you your new drink, you turn to Alex. “I’m uh… I’m gonna go get some air. Would you let the girls know for me?”

Alex looks at you for a second, sensing there’s more to it, but he concedes. “Sure, take your time, I’ll let them know.”

With that, you step outside.

The cool midnight air hits your skin the moment you push through the doors, instantly grounding you, but it doesn’t quite settle the buzzing in your chest. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but it’s impossible to ignore the weight that’s been sitting there for weeks.

Joel.

You hate that it’s him filling your mind right now, after everything. You should be enjoying this—cute guy, fun night, no strings attached. But instead, all you can think about is the way he makes you feel.

It’s frustrating, and you’re tired of carrying it around in silence.

You’re realizing now, with an empty glass in your hands, that this last drink might’ve been a mistake. Without fully thinking it through, you pull out your phone and scroll to his name. You hesitate for only a second before hitting the call button. It rings once, twice, then a third time before it goes to voicemail.

You should hang up—calling was a bad decision in the first place—but leaning against the wall of the bar, staring up at the sky, you can’t help the words that spill out.

“Hey…” Your voice is low, slurred with alcohol but steady enough. “I went out with a friend tonight, Charlotte. I’m sure you know her. We came to this small, crowded bar that I don’t feel like going back into, and there was this cute guy, dazzling smile, pretty puppy eyes, you know the kind. God, he used to be my type too—me from a couple of months ago would be screaming to go give him my number. But he was talking to me, and I just… I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. It was like he was missing something, a bit more of a drawl or a patchy beard or kicking me out of his house randomly ‘cause he started touching my leg.” You chuckle softly. “But it’s not just him, Joel, it’s all of them. Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… I don’t know, not you. And it’s funny, ‘cause you don’t care. I’m here losing sleep over insignificant glances and touches and whatever, and you’re walking into my house to watch the damn game with my dad like it’s nothing. Like this is all nothing. Which I guess it is. It makes me a bit stupid to be acting like there was ever something here to begin with.”

You pause, your chest tight, mind buzzing.

“It doesn’t matter. This whole thing is stupid. I should probably figure out a way to get myself back home.” You pause again, biting your lip. “Please delete this in the morning and let’s never talk about it again, okay? I’ll be mortified. Goodnight.”

Your breath hitches as the words tumble out, and you clench your jaw, suddenly embarrassed by your own admission. But it’s too late. You’ve already hung up.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror as Joel steps out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips. The day has weighed on him—long hours, sun beating down, the usual aches and stiffness creeping into his bones. He runs a hand through his damp hair, catching a glimpse of himself in the fogged-up glass, the lines on his face more pronounced tonight.

With a heavy sigh, he pads barefoot across the room to his nightstand, reaching for his phone. There’s a part of him that wants to just lie down and shut the world out for a while, but old habits die hard, and checking his phone before bed is one he can’t seem to break. He unlocks it, thumb absently scrolling through notifications until your name flashes across the screen, and a voicemail icon blinks at him.

He freezes.

Your name.

For a moment, Joel just stares at it, thumb hovering above the screen. He hasn’t heard from you since the other night at your dad’s house—since that awkward, tension-filled game that still sits heavy in his mind. It would’ve been easier to keep the distance if you weren’t always… there. But you were.

He hesitates.

Maybe he shouldn’t listen.

But then, with a quiet curse under his breath, Joel presses play and brings the phone to his ear. There’s a beat of silence, a soft crackle before your voice comes through, and he feels something knot tight in his chest.

“Hey…” Your voice is quiet, a little slurred, like you’ve had a few too many. His brows knit together as you continue. You start talking about the bar, about a guy. A cute guy. A pang of something ugly twists in Joel’s gut, though he forces himself to keep listening.

"...used to be my type too… me from a couple months ago would be screaming to go give him my number."

Joel exhales, hand gripping the phone a little tighter as he leans back against the bed frame, legs stretched out in front of him. He swallows down the strange burn in his throat when you laugh, your words sinking in deeper with every second.

It’s when you mention the comparisons—how no one quite measures up to him—that something flickers across his expression. You shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be thinking this, and yet… here you are. His jaw clenches when you talk about him touching your leg. He remembers that moment, how he’d pushed you away, forced that distance between you both before it got out of hand. But the way you bring it up now makes his pulse quicken, heat rising in him despite his efforts to keep it at bay.

"Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… not you."

His heart pounds harder at that, the breath he didn’t know he was holding finally releasing in a quiet exhale. Damn it. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. And he wasn’t supposed to like hearing it.

Your voice wavers when you say it doesn’t matter, that the whole thing is stupid, but Joel knows better. He hears it in the way you trail off, that vulnerability you can’t quite hide when you tell him to delete the message, pretend it never happened.

The voicemail ends, the room falling into an almost oppressive silence as Joel lowers the phone. He’s still staring at the screen, his thumb hovering over the delete option, but he can’t bring himself to press it. He should. You told him to. It would be the smart thing to do—erase the evidence, keep things clean between you two, never bring it up again.

But instead, Joel lets the phone fall to his chest, closing his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard. His pulse still thrums in his ears, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. He knows he should forget it, but deep down, he knows it’s already too late for that.

A gnawing worry creeps in, pricking at the back of his mind. The slur in your voice, the way you sounded just… off. The mention of getting home by yourself.

He tells himself it’s just concern, that’s all. You’d been drinking, probably too much, and you shouldn’t be out alone at this hour. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t at least make sure you were alright?

But even as he gets up, throwing on an old t-shirt and grabbing his truck keys, Joel knows it’s not just that. There’s a deeper pull, something he can’t shake, and it’s not only about your safety. It’s about you, being near you, even when he’s spent weeks trying to keep that distance. The line he keeps redrawing in the sand has blurred so many times now, and yet, here he is, crossing it again.

He grips the steering wheel tight as he drives, headlights cutting through the dark, each street he passes tightening the knot of anticipation in his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s reckless, irresponsible. He’s trying to justify it—hell, he could call Charlotte, or maybe your dad, someone else to check on you. But no, he’s out here, already halfway across town, and that says more than he’s willing to admit.

Finally, he spots you. The dim glow of a streetlight casts a faint circle around where you’re sitting on the sidewalk, head resting on your arms, knees pulled up close to your chest. You look small, lost, and it tugs at something inside of him.

Joel pulls up slowly, parking a few feet away, his eyes locked on you through the windshield. For a second, he just sits there, watching. You’re still, unmoving, save for the occasional shift of your shoulders. He debates turning around, leaving before you even notice, but he knows that’s not an option. Not now.

Stepping out of the truck, Joel takes a breath, steeling himself before approaching. His boots scuff softly against the pavement as he gets closer, his heart thudding in his chest.

He clears his throat softly. “Hey…” His voice is low, careful. “You alright?”

You lift your head slowly, blinking against the bright light of the streetlamp as your eyes meet his. For a second, you don’t say anything, and neither does he.

Then your soft voice breaks the silence. “Are you really here or am I that drunk?”

He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just like that, all the worries and the guilt, the pressure to do what’s right, it’s all gone in a heartbeat. It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Because you're sitting there in front of him, beautiful as ever, looking up with those glossy, wide eyes that make your usual sweetness seem even more disarming.

So he let’s go. Just for tonight, he can enjoy this feeling instead of shoving it down.

“Come on, party girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Let’s get you home.”

You try to stand, but your heels betray you, and before you can fully straighten up, you’re stumbling. Joel’s right there, catching you without a second thought, just like he always is. His hand wraps around your arm, steadying you, like it's second nature.

“I need to stop tumbling down every time I’m around you,” you mumble, slurring your words with a hint of frustration in your humor. Your brows furrow in concentration as you focus on taking the small, careful steps toward Joel’s truck. “I swear I’m usually not a clumsy person.”

He chuckles, his hand still holding onto you as if it’s where it belongs. “It’s alright. I like you tumbling onto me.”

There’s a subtle warmth in his words that he doesn’t even try to hide now.

He helps you get situated in the passenger seat before rounding the truck and sliding into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the engine right away, though. For a second, he just sits there, hands gripping the wheel, his eyes flicking toward you and then away, not knowing how far he’s allowing himself to go tonight. He needs to say something, move this goddamn situation forward somehow.

You break the silence first, your voice softer now, pulling him back from the spiral. “Joel… You didn’t have to come get me.”

His fingers flex on the wheel, jaw tightening. He knows he didn’t have to come. He shouldn’t have. But Lord, the second he heard that voicemail, his mind spun into a frenzy—your voice all slurred and honest in a way it never had been before. You sounded… lost. He doesn’t want to admit how incapable he felt of doing nothing in that moment.

He lets out a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah, I did."

You look at him, blinking slowly like you’re trying to figure him out. He can see the alcohol buzzing behind your eyes, but there’s clarity there too, something cutting through all that fog. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft, hesitant. “Why did you come?”

He swears he hears the crack in his own chest before he even opens his mouth. Why the hell did he come? He knows the answer. He knows what you’re trying to get him to say. But he can’t say it, not without giving something away he isn’t ready to give. So he falls back on the one thing that’s easy. “Because you called,” he says, his voice low, rough. “And I—” He hesitates, the words sitting on his tongue like they’ll choke him. “I was worried.”

Worried. It’s weak, but it’s the best excuse he’s got.

Your gaze softens, and it’s like you see right through him, see all the bullshit he’s trying to keep up. “You don’t have to keep doing that,” you murmur. “Act like you’re just worried about me because of… whatever. I’m not stupid, Joel.”

His heart stutters in his chest. His first instinct is to argue, to push back, but something about the way you’re looking at him makes him pause. He clenches his jaw, trying to harden his expression, but you’ve always had this way of seeing past that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he manages, though his voice comes out more defensive than he means for it to.

But you don’t back down. You never do. “I think I do. I think you do too.”

Joel’s heart starts pounding harder in his chest. There’s a moment where everything feels too quiet, like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for him to do something—say something that’ll either make this all blow up in his face or force him to admit things he’s been burying for weeks. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head, trying to break free from whatever hold you’ve got on him.

He starts the truck, the sound of the engine a relief. “We should get you home,” he mutters, trying to steady his voice, even though everything inside him feels like it’s tipping over the edge.

But as he pulls onto the road, his grip on the wheel tight, he can’t stop glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He’s trying to keep his distance, trying to convince himself this is just him doing what’s right, being a good man. But the truth’s gnawing at him, clawing its way up, no matter how much he pushes it down: He didn’t come here just to get you home.

"Can we get something to eat?" Your voice startles him, bringing him back from the place he just mentally went to. “I’m starving.”

“Um… sure. What do you feel like?”

“Anything greasy and fast. Something that’ll soak up all the bad decisions I made tonight,” you joke, but there’s something in your voice, a vulnerability that Joel doesn’t miss.

You end up at a late-night drive-thru, ordering burgers and fries. He pulls into a quiet spot and turns off the engine, the warmth of the food filling the truck. It’s quiet for a moment, the air between you heavier than it should be.

“You alright?” he asks, turning to look at you.

You don't answer right away, staring out the windshield, your fingers playing with the edge of the fry wrapper. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I’ve just… been feeling off lately.”

Joel’s not sure how to respond. He’s used to your bratty quips and playful banter, but this—you letting him in like this—feels different.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says, his voice low, gentle. “Sometimes things just get… heavy.”

You nod, taking a small bite of your burger before setting it down, barely touched. “It’s been weird being back home. Everything’s familiar, but nothing feels right, you know? Like I should fit here, and I don’t.”

He shifts in his seat, turning slightly to face you. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, surprising even himself with the admission. “Felt like that for a long time. Still do sometimes.”

You look over at him, really look at him, and for the first time tonight, there’s no walls between you. No snarky comments, no tension bubbling beneath the surface. Just two people who’ve been through a lot, trying to figure out how to navigate the mess.

“You? Really?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

He nods, glancing down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, really. Even when everything seems like it’s where it’s supposed to be, it still doesn’t always… fit. It’s hard to explain.”

For a moment, you just sit there, sharing the silence. It’s not awkward, though—more like a mutual understanding, something deeper than words could convey. Joel finds himself relaxing, letting his guard down more than he intended.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you say softly.

He smiles at that. “Couldn’t leave you out there like that, darlin’” he replies, his tone soft but firm.

You return his smile, small but genuine. It makes Joel feel like maybe—just maybe—this isn’t a mistake after all. It’s not about crossing lines or getting too close. It’s about being there for you, like he wants to be, like you need him to be.

And somehow, that feels right.

Tag list: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee , @wintersquirrel , @chyannealaniz , @spiderman-n-n , @ghostofzion , @sjc7542 , @yyiikes , @pedrofan @loveisacowboy @sageluvsjoel

#dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel x reader #tlou joel #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #hidden embers

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bontenslut3 · 11 months ago

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who’s my obedient slut?

HEYYY YALL IM BACK FROM NOT POSTING CAUSE I HAD ZERO IDEAS BUT SINCE IM A HOBIE LOVER HERES ONE

Warnings/Tags- unprotected sex, creampie, tittie play, biting , HEAVY details , rough sex , praise , virgin reader , smut with barely no plot , use of the n word and slut , mention of spanking . Sorry for any minor spellings I’ll fix it later

Please don’t read if your not of age you can get me and you in trouble. BUT HAVE FUN GUYS

I wanted him to pin me down on the bed i begged and planned this remember?

“Get on your knees now “

“ hobie please im sorry I won’t do it again i promise “ i pleaded on the floor crying after breaking one of his favorite chokers and trying to hide it. The other girls outside of the door listening.

“ you know y/n your the only virgin slut i have that I haven’t fucked since I got so maybe todays your day huh princess what do you say you

A : take a hard spanking from me while having your hands tied behind your back and a vibrator in that nice pussy of yours

or you

B : take my cock from behind while having slow hot sex while I stretch out that nice and tight ass of yours ? “ he says laying out a black leather belt on his lap

“ I choose b “

“ hmmm amazing choice now take off those slutty clothes and get on the bed for me hmm?” Hobie says walking around to put the belt back and than I felt him behind me that’s when EVERYTHING changed that night

On a cold night with the moonlight shining though the window his clothes half way off his back and muscles showing looking me dead in the eyes than kissing my neck slowly while telling me I'm all his and that he'll never leave me alone until the day we die , holding one of my legs on his waist biting my neck than placing a soft but a deep and passionate kiss on my lips while I wrap my arms around his neck never letting him go , his hands trailing up my shirt.

Whispering slowly into my ear If I was sure I wanted this he knew I wanted him for the longest so of course I said yes.

he takes off his shirt fully while forcing my head to look at him in the eyes, I was embarrassed it was my first time ever having sex than he helps me remove my clothes while slowly kissing my neck and playing with my breast , biting deep but soft into my neck forcing a moan out of me. He moves one of my legs to the side while rubbing circles on my sensitive spot

" you like it don't you l've been waiting so long to taste you baby " he whispered into my ears while taking off his pants I could feel him getting hard I wanted him to just fuck me already but I had to be patient , the things he could do to me .

" your gonna take my dick like a good girl right? Hmm?"

“ hobie please- “

He bits down on my neck again “ I didn’t ask for you to beg or plead I asked for an answer “

“ yes “ i whispered

“ speak up! I can’t hear that sexy voice of yours baby “

“ Yes! “ I yelled letting him know I was serious about taking him

“ aww that’s my girl I like it when you yell out yes”

Hobie’s phone rings and it’s miles on the line

“ yo miles ill be a while bruv i have something nice and tight waiting for me to finish them “

He hangs up the phone and turns his attention to me “ I hope you know that ‘ nice and tight ‘ thing is you “

He turns me around face flat on my stomach sliding his cock in my ass aggressively, i yelled out in pain he didn’t even give me the chance to think after that. He starting humping me aggressively all the lube he put in my ass sliding out , wet sounds from his dick hitting my ass and the lube mixed it’s like he’s taking out all his pent up aggression out on me.

“ fu-fuck hobie can you be a little soft it’s my fi-first time “ I said stuttering from how hard he was fucking me his cock slamming in and out of my ass.

“ be softer?! Oh no princess I’m not sure I’m going to do that. it’s your first time and I want you to remember every last bit of this. no Niga can fuck you as good as I can baby, no one can put you to sleep with they dick like I can I promise you baby I promise you no one can fuck you like I can.”

Hobie keeps fucking me my body feels numb and weak but I loved the way his dick made me feel I was going crazy for him I don’t know if I wanted more or if I wanted him to stop it felt to good and I wanted to cry from how hard he was fucking me but I couldn’t…I begged him for more I didn’t want him to stop the pain felt amazing.

“ oh now you want me to keep going huh!? you like that baby huh!? you like how deep my cocks going into that nice tight ass of yours ?! Told you no one can fuck you like me no Niga gon fuck you but me right ? Your all mines and no one else?!”

“ y-yes hobie I’m all yours “

“ say what i want to hear slut “

“ no Niga can fuck me like you can “

“ huh say it louder I can’t hear you baby!! I want you to scream it “

“ No niga can fuck me like you can !! “

“ that’s it baby yes oh fuck yes that’s it I’m about cum... fuck your amazing oh fuck I’m so fucking close “

“ ah-ah~ shit ah oh fuck mmm that felt amazing fuck” Hobie cums Deep inside of me some of his cum leaking out of my ass , my pussy wet and wanting to be fucked.

* deep breathing * “ ah oh fuck that was amazing. Hmm aww your pussies all wet she wants me to fuck her? To bad I’m all out of energy fuck that drained me “ he said while smacking my ass and fingering me

“ maybe if your a obedient slut tomorrow night I’ll fuck your wet pussy okay baby ?” He kisses my forehead and spoons me. before all this I was scared of sex but maybe after this I’ll keep being hobie’s obedient slut and yes all the girls on the other side of the door heard idc .

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onigiriico · 2 years ago

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Muu audio drama (t2) - English TL

[ links: Spotify / YT Music ]

Behold, the longest voice drama I’ve ever posted. This thing is almost 2.3k words long. I am in pain /lh

As always, feel free to head to my ask box or my Twitter (now actually with open DMs lmao) for any questions, potential mistranslations, etc.!

Also,, Trigger warning (aside from. well. the usual Milgram things): Towards the end, they discuss another character’s threat of suicide. It’s nothing super graphic, but there sure are... opinions on it, so please proceed with caution if that’s a touchy topic for you!

⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️

(door opens)

M: Ah, it’s been a while, Warden-san. – Things have gotten tough, haven’t they… Everyone seems to be struggling and the whole atmosphere feels tense because everyone’s struggling, it’s really troublesome.

E: Is that so?

M: But as for me, I think Milgram has become a lot more comfortable! I know now that I can get whatever I want if I ask for it, so I don’t need to be so on edge anymore.

E: …

M: You did say that you and Milgram are our allies, and maybe you were right all along!

E: …

M: Aww, it’s boring if it’s just me talking! We’re talking to each other for the first time in a while, so you tell me about something interesting too, Warden-san~

E: You’re in pretty high spirits.

M: Am I?

E: I feel like you’ve brightened up.

M: Maybe…

E: But following the judgment after your first trial, the situation in Milgram has changed. And in the aftermath, Kotoko has attacked people too… From how I remember you, I would have expected you to feel uneasier than this.

M: Huh? But that has nothing to do with me.

E: What?

M: The ones who are suffering are the ones who have done bad things, right? You know, like, what goes around comes around.

E: …

M: Besides, Kotoko hurt and was mean to the people who didn’t get forgiven by you, right?

E: …Yeah.

M: Wouldn’t it be weird for me to have any thoughts on that, then? After all, I didn’t do anything wrong. You forgave me!

E: …

M: Eh? Is something wrong? Those who didn’t get forgiven by you must be bad people, if you ask me! I believe in you, Warden-san, so I’d hope you feel happy!

E: …Thanks for that.

M: See, you said you forgave me and that’s part of your job, so it’s probably right! Come on, come on, have some confidence!

E: … Speaking of which, you seem to be pretty close to Haruka.

M: …? Yeah! He’s the one I get along with best in Milgram!

E: Do you have some kind of goal with that?

M: Huh? E: Haruka’s loyalty towards you is one thing, but with this kind of relationship, I think it’s only natural to wonder if you’re using him for something.

M: Ehh… Warden-san, do you not have any friends?

E: Huh?

M: Are there any?

E: None that I could think of.

M: Wow, poor thing,.. I’ll teach you! Friends aren’t like that, you know. Rather than using each other for something, we just get along because we’re comfortable around each other. That’s all.

E: Well, I’m sorry about that.

M: Haruka-kun is really nice! He accepts anything I say, he listens to anything I tell him. For me, that’s really comfortable.

E: And that’s… “friendship”?

M: What do you mean? Of course we’re friends! Haruka-kun is happy with it, so it only has benefits for both of us!

E: I, as someone who has no friends, can’t judge, of course, but isn’t that just exploitation?

M: Exploitation…? Um, I don’t really understand, but… I do help him pick out clothes [in return], and I recently gave him a hairpin I didn’t need anymore as a hand-me-down!

E: …

M: We also have in common that we’re both people who were forgiven by you, Warden-san, so I don’t think it’s a relationship that anyone could have a problem with! E: … I already said this to Haruka, but Milgram consists of three trials, and I have only forgiven you this once. I think it’s too early to feel completely safe.

M: Eh~ You already decided to forgive me. I think it’d be uncool to be like, “Oh, actually, nevermind” now.

E: This is just how it is.

M: It’s fine already, isn’t it? You saw me, didn’t you? And from that, you decided that I haven’t done anything wrong, didn’t you?

E: Yeah, that’s right. For the first trial, that is.

M: It’s the same no matter how many times we do this. I’m me, after all. That won’t change.

E: If I keep looking from now on, will I come across something that puts you in a less positive light?

M: Eh?

E: Milgram reveals the truth through videos and music. After deciding whether to forgive you or not in the first trial, I’ll continue to dig deeper, searching for the truth inside your hearts once again.

M: …

E: For example: Things that you hid. Things that you forgot about. Things that weren’t visible through the rest of your strong feelings. Those are things that I’ll be shedding light on.

M: Hmm…

E: Or at least it might be.

M: …I don’t get it, but whatever. I haven’t done anything wrong, after all.

E: Is that so? It’s true that I’ve forgiven you once… but I remember feeling uneasy about it the whole time. Was it really right to forgive you? Aren’t you still hiding something? Things like that.

M: …Why… would you think stuff like that? That’s mean, Warden-san… You saw me, didn’t you? All the awful things that were done to me, that I couldn’t have escaped from without killing someone! I can’t believe you’re saying this to me, after I’ve gone through all of that… Warden-san, you’re mean.

E: Maybe I am. Your pain and suffering has certainly reached me. Or should I call it bullying? One-sided violence and mistreatment… I’m sure it was difficult to handle. It’s not unreasonable to come to the conclusion that murder is the only way for a weak person to get out of that. That’s exactly why I forgave you.

M: Yeah… If I hadn’t done that, I could have died some day.

E: But – are you actually that weak, Muu?

M: Huh?

E: That’s the source of my unease. Are you really that weak? Were you really getting picked on for being a weakling?

M: What do you mean?

E: How did it come to that in the first place? What was the cause? That’s what I don’t know. You could say it was conveniently omitted.

M: …

E: Even you yourself refuse to go there. Is it a topic that you don’t want to touch upon?

M: … Warden-san, I think you’re really doing something bad. Isn’t it a bad thing to act like there has to be something wrong with someone for them to get bullied?

E: Oh?

M: No matter the circumstances, it’s always the bullies who are in the wrong! Isn’t that obvious? Warden-san, you’re so smart, but you don’t even know things like that? Maybe you should take some lessons on morals or something.

E: …

M: Besides, even if I’ve done something wrong, there’s nothing that could justify bullying someone. Warden-san, I thought you were a nicer person.

E: So sorry that I’m not living up to your expectations.

M: If you’re reflecting on it, I’m willing to forgive you, though…

E: Could I ask the generous Muu to spoil me by letting me ask one more question, then?

M: What is it? If it’s a boring question, I don’t wanna.

E: Let’s say you’ve done nothing wrong—

M: Not “let’s say”! I have done nothing wrong!

E: Got it, got it. So, even though you’ve done nothing wrong – you got bullied. Why do you think that is?

M: I don’t know that! I mean, my family is rich, and my appearance stands out [in a good way], too… they probably did it out of envy or prejudice or something, right?

E: Right, right. And here I was with the theory that you were originally in the opposite position…

M: (slams her hands down)

E: …!

M: What are you saying…?

E: Just that it could also be speculated that you bullied someone and the tables turned on you.

M: Do you know what an awful thing you’re saying right now?

E: What are you getting this angry for? You’ve done nothing wrong, right?

M: Warden-san… I hate you.

E: This is just speculation. Don’t get so mad.

M: …

E: So what? Can you not give me an answer?

M: I haven’t bullied anyone. I’d never do such a mean thing! I’ve never hit anyone or poured water over anyone’s head. I wouldn’t do something like that! I’m not lying! I’m not telling you lies! I really haven’t done anything!

E: I see. I’ll take note of that.

M: … Um… um, by the way, Warden-san! I don’t know about this, but…

E: What?

M: You forgave me because I just gave my bullies their payback, right?

E: …Well… I guess so.

M: What was it called again… Revenge… Revenge? That means revenge can be [an acceptable motivator], right? And if you don’t forgive me this time, that’d mean that it’s not. If we leave aside the thing you said earlier about me maybe having bullied someone before – not that I actually did that, of course!

E: Sure.

M: So if I paid back what my bullies did to me, that would be revenge, right? And if you feel like I had no other choice than that, then don’t you have to forgive me?

E: … Uh… I’m not really sure what you’re trying to say…

M: You see, if you think that me bullying someone back after being bullied is the natural course of events, then wouldn’t it be bad to bully me back again in return?

E: …

M: But if you were like, “I won’t forgive you, Muu! Revenge is bad!,” then wouldn’t that imply that it’s also bad for me to bully someone back after they bullied me? Since we’ve all done something bad anyway, doesn’t that mean that I’ve not done anything wrong in the end?

E: …I think I’m kinda… starting to get your point… maybe…

M: … Warden-san, are you maybe not that intelligent, after all…?

E: Well, sorry about that.

M: Well, I guess it’s to be expected. You talk to a rabbit, after all. (giggles) Either way, you’ve understood that I haven’t done anything wrong, so it’s okay!

E: I sure have understood that talking to you isn’t getting me anywhere. But I guess since you made this explanation, I’ll take it into consideration.

M: Ah, but if you don’t forgive me, Haruka-kun will die, so I think it’d be best to not do that.

E: …!

(bell rings, machinery whirrs)

E: So you’ve heard about that nonsense too?

M: Yeah. Haruka-kun told me. So I could rest easy, according to him. That made me happy… It made me really feel our friendship!

E: You know about it and you’re not trying to stop him? Haruka, that is?

M: Why would I? Haruka-kun says he wants to do it, so there’s nothing I can do, right?

E: But you’re calling him your friend.

M: Isn’t it exactly because he’s my friend? Isn’t friendship about letting your friends do the things they want? … Are you about to tell me “that’s not what friendship is”? Then what is friendship? You’re together because it’s beneficial for everyone involved, aren’t you?

E: I don’t think Haruka is benefitting from that at all.

M: No way… It’s not like you could know what’s good for him.

E: …You sure are tough to beat.

M: I really don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Warden-san. It’s Haruka-kun’s personal freedom to decide what he wants to do, and I’m not doing anything wrong. It’s not like I’ve asked him to do it!

E: I see. That’s how it is, huh. You don’t say anything; just because you’re present, your surroundings’ wishes change to benefit you— Oh, so that’s it. Like a born queen. No, it’s like you’re influencing your surroundings not with words, but with pheromones… Just like a queen bee.

M: Pheromones…? I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I don’t like that lewd-sounding stuff…

E: That’s not the nuance I was talking about.

M: Either way, there’s people who deserve to be unforgiven more than I do, so I think you should focus your efforts on them instead. Like, Kotoko-san has done something bad, for example. Ah, but what she did was approved by you, wasn’t it?

E: …You’re making my blood boil.

M: Anyway… I think you would do good to forgive me. Then Haruka-kun will be safe too. Ah, actually, couldn’t you just forgive everyone? Then Kotoko-san won’t run amok, and you won’t have to think about all the difficult stuff.

E: That is… a very attractive proposal.

M: Right? (giggles)

E: Abandoning all the thinking… How nice it would be if I could just do that.

M: … If you ask me, I don’t really get why you don’t do it…

E: Because this is the role I’m playing.

M: But the role was given to you, wasn’t it? You didn’t end up doing this because you wanted to, right? It’s not a dream you’ve had for a long time or anything, right, Warden-san? So there’s no need to let it tie you down. Couldn’t you just quit?

E: What are you…

M: Warden-san, we call you “Warden” because that’s what you are, right? I was assigned to be a prisoner, but that doesn’t mean my heart will become just that of a “prisoner” too. After all, I’m still me.

E: …!

M: Warden-san, are you okay? Are you feeling sick again?

E: (heavy breathing)

M: That’s because you keep thinking too much about difficult things. Just stop. Being the Warden, that is.

E: … Just— shut up, already! Prisoner no.4, Muu! Sing your sins!

#milgram #milgram music videos #muu kusunoki #milgram muu #milgram es #translation #fan translation #audio drama #the links might not work for the americans yet if you're here early bc it only comes out at midnight but. y'know #this sure is. yeah. (deep breath) yeah.#please forgive me if I messed up on the revenge-related mental gymnastics lmao my brain is not big enough for this

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daggerspare-standingby · 1 year ago

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The Chase - Part 2 | Hangman x Reader

Wow. The amount of love I’ve received on this fic is absolutely overwhelming and I’m so incredibly grateful. Thank you so so much!

It’s a little too soon for a complete love confession but there is a bit of fluff sprinkled throughout. The rest of it, is coming I promise!

No warnings for this one except Jake being a lovesick fool for someone who’s a little mean to him

Here is Part 2

—

There they were, the damn butterflies that were erupting in your stomach at his caring, but you were determined not to let it show. He doesn’t get to state some claim on you because he saved you from cracking your skull open. “I’ve gotten home alone plenty of times without you before, what’s so different about tonight?” He was quiet for a beat before he answered, his tone laced with sincerity “because I want to spend as much time with you as I can” you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips “Hangman, that’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, and I’ve heard your pickup lines.” Continuing to walk towards your little rental on the beach, which wasn’t far from the bar making it the perfect location, “I’m starting to think you just want to know where I live, but it doesn’t mean you’re getting invited in.” You cast him a sideways glance, his hands in his pockets walking equally in stride with you, you could tell he was thinking about something very deeply, and also making a conscious effort to stay beside you.

The rest of the walk to your place was quiet, except for your footsteps, until you got to your small bungalow, you stopped at the walkway entrance and turned to face him again. You were surprised he walked the entire way without saying a word. “That must have been the longest you’ve ever gone without hearing your own voice huh?” He looked at you with a small smile forming on his lips “you can be really mean you know that.” You rolled your eyes “I’m not mean Hangman, I’m tired, and cranky and a little drunk”. You watched warily as he leaned on the fence post, his eyes not leaving yours, that smirk still on his face “can I buy you dinner some time?” You couldn’t have helped the surprise on your face if you wanted to “didn’t you just say I was mean to you? And you want to take me to dinner?” He nodded “it’s hot when you’re mean. And I want to know why you won’t call me by my name and only insist on calling me by my callsign, when it’s not the case for anyone else.” You shook your head and sighed “I’m working every night this weekend. I don’t have time to go to dinner.” He scoffed and stood up straight “you have to eat sometime, and there’s places open on weekdays too. Just give it a thought when you’re sober… I’ll see you tomorrow.” You chewed your cheek “goodnight…” as you turned to walk up the stairs to your place, you glanced back seeing him still standing at the end of your walkway. A small amused smile crept across your lips “are you gonna stand there all night?” He shook his head “nah, just til you get inside.” You nodded slowly, “goodnight…Jake.” You walked into the house before you could hear or see his reaction, of his face lighting up and the small fist pump he did as you closed the door. He was falling hard and fast for you, now all he had to get you to do was realize he wasn’t a complete asshole all the time.

Laying in bed that night was not different from any other night, except your hand still felt the weight of his where he was holding it. Sighing and rolling over onto the side you hugged your pillow, a sliver of moonlight shining through the curtains where the ocean breeze blew in from the beach, slowly you drifted off to sleep. Jake returned to the hard deck parking lot and got into his truck, thinking about the conversation he’d had with Javy while you were in the washroom.

“If you really have feelings for her, you need to stop leaving every night with those tag chasers dude.” Javy had handed in the pool cue to Bob and took up residence at a nearby high top table, his beer still in his hand. “I don’t go home with them, the most we get is a heavy makeout session outside the bar, I honestly can’t go any farther because I just see her face and hear her voice echoing in my head when I do. That’s why they all are the complete opposite of her.” Javy shook his head “listen, and listen good ‘cause I’m only going to tell you this one time. If you like her, show her that. Forget the other girls, prove to her that you’re not the guy with his name on the bathroom stall for a good time call.” Jake nodded, considering his friend's words. If anyone was to give relationship advice it was Javy. He’d been with his high school sweetheart for almost 20 years, and 5 of those have been married. Jake would love to have a relationship like that, would kill for it. But he knew that their job was dangerous, what if he never came back? It was a fear that plagued him, he knew especially after Coyote’s g-lock experience that it was a fear for his friend too. That’s why Jake never wanted to settle down, at least until he met you. He knew you were tough, you could probably handle it, him being gone for weeks at a time, though the dagger squad’s deployments were few and far between it was never entirely unavoidable. That’s why he strived to be the best of the best, but could he be the best of the best, for you?

—

Trying to figure out the tag list thing so If I miss you I’m so sorry!

@mayhemmanaged

@horseshoegirl

@dizzybee03

@kmc1989

@lynnevanss

@midnightmagpiemama

@djs8891

@blue-aconite

@rosiahills22

@hecate-steps-on-me

@cherrycola27

@roosterbruiser

@mak-32

@paigewinchester67

@potatothatcanwrite

@potato-girl99981

@theharddeck

@thedroneranger

@hangmandruigandmav

@themusingofagothicsoul

@wayward-river

@perfectprettypisces

@86laura11

@beyondthesefourwalls

Let me know your thoughts! Thank you again so so much

#the chase #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman fic #Hangman x bartender!reader #jake x reader

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inexplicablymine · 1 year ago

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@welcometololaland you have DONE IT AGAIN. bows down.

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more).

I am humbly here to present my ABSOLUTELY insane WIP list for the Firstprince fandom and tell you a little more about them!

(Also to those who asked about WIP’s in my inbox those answers are coming ~ if anyone has any more questions or wants more ask box is open! I’ll be answering all of those tomorrow instead of (or with) Seven Sentence Sunday!)

Thank you to @welcometololaland for ANOTHER amazing weekend game truly a blast. To @kiwiana-writes @daisymae-12 @orchidscript @happiness-of-the-pursuit @gay-flyboys @rockyroadkylers and @anincompletelist for the tags I LOVED reading all of your words and answers.

If you have prepared yourself, then forge on ;)

1. WIP List

- The Firstprince Files

- The Ties That Bond Us

- Super Six and the Siren’s Call

- Looking for Orion

- Balls to the Wall

- Fifteen Hours Till Forever

- Watermelon Sugar

- Mr. Party Hardy (Mr. Bodypillow AU)

- Mr. Move It Move It (Mr Bodypillow AU)

- Mr. Massage (Mr. Bodypillow AU)

- S.M.U.T.

- No Laughing Matter

- Sweater Weather

- Ground(s) Up

- Delilah

- Minty Fresh

- Beast I’m an Animal

- Mind Over Matter

- [Switchback]

- [World Cup AU]

- [Orchestra AU]

- [Yoga AU]

- [Rugby Video AU]

- [Star Trek AU]

- [Oxford Slut Era AU]

- [Model/mistaken identity AU]

- [Pomodoro Method AU]

And probably more but that’s enough for now lmao

2. Which of your WIP’s is currently the longest?

Definitely Super Six and the Sirens Call. Currently at 48K but over the next two months I think a few of my other multichaps will also match it for length.

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest

The Firstprince Files. The outline for it is 37 chapters long and the first two chapters that are written are clocking in at about 13K right now.

4. Which WIP is your favorite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

Going to go for broke here ~ my co-writes (Super Six and the Sirens Call w/ @read-and-write- and @happiness-of-the-pursuit, [Switchback] w/ @celaestis1, Watermelon Sugar w/ @heybuddy-drabbles, and S.M.U.T. with @affectionatelyrs) have been a BLAST. The words flow, I'm obsessed with the stories, getting to read others words and then add your own and make good soup will always be fun.

Outside of my cowrites? … hmmmm honestly I am obsessed with mystery and plotting out The Firstprince Files was truly a delight, but I enjoy writing all of my fics otherwise I wouldn’t write them.

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

The Ties That Bond Us. It’s a Bond/Q actor AU and there are already SO MANY great ones (and ones being written), and there is an extensive amount of epistolary writing that comes from different authors of articles and media works that need to have a distinct voice in order for the work to really work. I don’t know if I even have a distinct writing voice let alone if I can wear the masks of a bunch of other voices in a convincing way.

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

Whichever one is currently being written/focused on/about to be posted? It’s not a one size fits all answer, but at the moment I’m writing this it’s my Halloween Huh fic. It’s done and posted- ready to be revealed. I made myself go read it out loud one last time to hear it back (newsflash I hate doing this but I still do it because it helps) and that just made me doubt everything hahaha.

7. Which of your WIP’s will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

All of them. I always have a beta, I am incapable of posting a non beta’d work I have too much anxiety about it. The Firstprince Files deals with some much heavier themes so I will likely want a sensitivity reader there for those, and Super Six and the Sirens Call has quite a bit of Spanish in it that we have beta’s checking on.

8. Have any of your WIP’s been struck by the curse of writers block?

Yes this is why I have so many … (joking). Yes and no. I will just power through to write a bad section to have words on the page and then come back to fix them later which helps. I have a focused few WIP's that I work on at a time (small rotation inside the big rotation). The rest of these have an outline and a doc and at least a little bit written, but will not receive heavy work on them until I go through what’s first on my internal fic calendar.

What is in the current small rotation? SSASC, Looking for Orion, Watermelon Sugar, [Switchback}, Minty Fresh, my Mr. BodyPillow follow ups, and The Ties That Bond Us is my Nano project this November.

9. Which WIP has your favorite OC? Tell us about them?

At this moment Watermelon Sugar which is a co-write threesome for Threesgiving with @heybuddy-drabbles. Our third member of the threesome is AMAZING and we love them so much and we are very very excited for them to come into everyone else’s world as well.

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

This is a toss up between [Switchback], [World Cup AU], Watermelon Sugar, and [Pomodoro Method]. We will see when they are finished what I think really takes the cake there.

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

I mean chapter two of Looking for Orion, but The Firstprince Files has quite a bit of angst. I don’t really write a lot of heavy angst or I haven’t yet we will see if the reception to LFO changes the tide there.

12. Which WIP has the best characterization (in your humble opinion)?

Looking for Orion at the moment, but I’m really hoping that Mind Over Matter takes that one when I have more written on it.

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

Oh my, Super Six and the Sirens Call has quest locations that change in a rotation. Truly I can't tell you more but it is SO FUN truly so fun. The Ties That Bond Us also just is jet-setting movie stars in Bond movie locations, stunt training, doing interviews in wild places, and campaigns in larger than life locations. So that is ridiculously fun to write and I hope it is just as fun to read.

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

Super Six and the Sirens Call. This work has a promo schedule there is art being made, there are docs linked within docs. When I say this became a big brained thing it’s a big brained thing.

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

I try not to ever have expectations, it’s better that way I find ~ but based on reaction and excitement (my irl bookclub today made me promise to send them a link) I would say Super Six and the Sirens Call. Outside of that I just hope that if one person likes it then it is doing it’s job which is to create joy. (but internally we all have those fics that we hope do a little better than others for one reason or another. My Mr. Bodypillow follow ups I hope people enjoy, my two longer Multichapter works I am deeply attached to, and Looking for Orion I am currently a bit obessed with and I hope others get obsessed with it too.)

16. Do you dream about any of your WIP’s?

NO I DONT DREAM BUT @happiness-of-the-pursuit LITERALLY DREAMED ABOUT ONE OF MINE THIS WEEK SO I'M COUNTING IT.

17. Do any of your WIP’s have any particular complexities that your other fics don’t?

[Orchestra AU] is meant to be read at pace with the classical pieces that are titled in the top of the chapter which is fun and funky but is going to make pacing HARD. Because people read at different times. + that posting schedule is supposed to mimic the NYC philharmonic concert series performance schedule.

The Firstprince Files has a lot of real world implications for the characters as it is a suspense mystery novel that requires so much research on realistically how things might work or play out.

The Ties That Bond Us is going to have SO Much coding in it for the media chapters and I am now thinking I’m going to do art for it which rip me I guess (hahaha).

[Switchback] has a lot of POV changes which requires a delicate hand to know when to stop and start a perspective

Mind over Matter and No Laughing Matter are meant to be laugh out loud funny and I’m going to need help with both of them for that … truly

A lot of the one shots I struggle with because I want to give the story enough depth while still not expanding them into multichapter works, which is something I struggle with.

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humor?

Reiterating above, Mind over Matter and No Laughing Matter for sure.

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

Super Six and the Siren’s Call DOES and it’s SO FUN. Truly it has been a BLAST To get into the heads of these other characters, and flesh out how they see the main ship as well.

The Ties That Bond Us, every other chapter is an outside POV from the media perspective which as I mentioned earlier creates a lot of work for voice and structure.

20. Tell us one thing we don’t know about one or more of your WIPs.

Hmmm some super fast fun ones

- 14 of the WIP’s on this list are MultiChap works

- 4 of them are co-authored works

- The Firstprince Files has been outlined since February of this year and The Ties That Bond Us has been outlined since March. (They are my oldest outlined works but they are also long works).

- 6 of these works are my FirstPrinceWeek works that I will still publish. I got sick and had an “AO3 author note” standard few weeks which put me behind. I do have one FPW fic published so far.

- Balls to the Wall started after a conversation about how criminal it is that Starbucks doesn’t sell the "Off menu but actually on menu now because it is in the app" Medicine Ball Tea in take home form so you can make it yourself when you are sick.

- All of these are for Firstprince but I now have an IRL who told me TODAY that she wants me to write Tarlos so I better get started on finishing all of these.

- [Rugby Video AU] and Ground(s) Up are both based on TikTok’s that I saw and immediately went "ahhhh yes that’s firstprince."

- All of my Mr. BodyPillow follow up’s will have “Mr.” In the name, and the title of the collection is Mr. Ace Alex, though there is a bit of a push for me to rename it the snerdle collection.

- My ask box is open if you want to ask about any of my WIP's :)

And now I will be tagging my entire moot list because I have too many WIP’s (jk but … prepare for the wall of tags) there is no pressure here but this has been a DELIGHT to read through everyone’s and I want to read about a million more!

@affectionatelyrs @historicallysam @rmd-writes @treluna4 @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @cha-melodius @arand0mdutchgirl @adreamareads @vonpeepsisback @clottedcreamfudge @cityofdownwardspirals @14carrotghoul @cricketnationrise @myheartalivewrites @xthelastknownsurvivorx @mudbloodpotter05 @everwitch-magiks @leaves-of-laurelin @celeritas2997 @athousandrooms @smc-27 @three-drink-amy @sprigsofviolets @heartitinthesilence @sherryvalli @weighty-ghosts @heybuddy-drabbles @read-and-write- @raysletters @thesleepyskipper @kill8a @babiemonk @suseagull04

#lola's wip tag game #tag game #fic tag game #WIP tag game #WIP's #inexplicablymine wip #inexplicablymine #ao3 #firstprince #fanfiction

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scarlett-x-rose · 6 months ago

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Teaser…

Omg don’t you want to know what the free task is? Trust me, it’s a good one. You know I don’t do boring stuff like go buy panties or go tell your ex you’re a sissy or go chop of a finger… huh that last one isn’t normal you say? Weird. I guess normal is relative… Anyway, this is a super easy task compared to what I normally post. Anyone can do it. And the more you put into it the more you’ll get out of it, even if you’re skeptical at first. Sure. You can pussy your way through but it’ll be disappointing, but if you commit, you’ll develop a kink you didn’t even think could be a kink… seriously, it’s the longest post I’ve ever generated. I bet your melted brains are frying now wondering what it is… I’ll make it public when I feel like hehe xx

For now, you can focus on this one…

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asktherejectsau · 5 months ago

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It’s been a while, huh?

Hello everyone.

I apologize for the incredibly long hiatus as I did not expect to be away from this account for over a year but a lot has happened in my personal life that was out of my control and unfortunately, I was not in the correct mental state to be pumping out content in the way that I was with this AU.

While I’m not going to explain the full brevity of it here, I’ll try to put it as simply as I can without divulging too much personal information. I don’t want any further questions regarding my life irl as I want to keep that separated from this project completely. But for this update, I will say this once.

Firstly, what’s been going on?

I have been struggling with my mental health for many years, primarily because I am neurodivergent. But 2023 was what I would consider one of the worst years of my life. I was nearly made homeless by an abusive family member, my grandmother had passed away, and I had failed my 3rd year of college due to what was thought to be symptoms of an undiagnosed mental disorder, which turned out be a post-traumatic response to stress.

I tried to power through it by distracting myself via this AU and in extension, this fandom. But I have since realized what I was doing to myself was not in any way healthy nor productive.

For the longest time my “worth” was tied to my work. Up until this point in my life, I was conditioned to believe from a young age that if was not successful, then I did not deserve to live. I felt ashamed of myself for not being able to fulfill what I thought were “simple” deadlines, creating grand projects to complete in just 2 weeks or less and when I didn’t hit those goals (much like with the completion of the EP) I nearly broke down.

But once I realized how much harm I was doing to myself, I felt like I had to take a step back and reassess myself before it had the chance to seep into my art and other fandom spaces I occupied.

I apologize for not giving any notices or updates whatsoever on this project. I never meant to abandon this AU. I love it way too much to let it go for good. There were other factors that kept me away here too, such as the brief influx unwanted sexual comments made by anonymous users in mid 2023, as well as my own internal struggle with my place within the Gorillaz fandom as someone who wants to share more nuanced content with mature themes in a space that has become increasingly filled with a much younger audience than intended.

But I’ve decided I want to come back to this project so I can tell the story I want to tell. Not just because of my love for the IP but simply because I want to finish. I want to finish it as a way to end a saga for myself.

Now that I have finally been given the green light to go forward into my senior year after repeating junior year, I feel that I’m finally in a healthy enough mindset to do so.

What will happen to this blog then?

I’ll be uploading questions as I get to them. But I must make note of this again as stated in the rules. Please stop sending me NSFW questions about the characters or myself. While this AU does deal with mature themes and does contain some suggestive elements, that does not give invitation for you to ask for that type of content about the characters, and especially from me. This is not directed at any specific user as most people were incredibly kind and respectful. But I beg you if you do like this project and want to submit a question or fanart, please don’t do this. It’s made me incredibly uncomfortable every time I receive them and it overall sours the experience of answering questions and continuing to work on this project. I would like for that boundary not to be crossed so please be respectful of that.

Secondly; as it stands, the EP and Thru With U animated music video are postponed.

Thru With U will most likely stay as a storyboarded piece as I unfortunately, do not have the luxury to animate a full three and half minute long piece by myself as that takes a lot of time and money that I do not currently have. And if I wanted to hire people to help me in animating it, I would want to give them proper compensation. Which again, I cannot currently give at this time.

The EP will probably come out eventually, but I would have to do some intense fine tuning in order to get sounding as best as it could be. That isn’t to say that I won’t be making anymore music/MVs for the Rejects later down the line, but I ask that all of you please be patient with me a more of those projects come out.

With that all being said, thank you all for your support. I’m incredibly proud of the community that’s been fostered from this AU and all of you who’ve sent me fanart, written kind messages, asked questions to the characters, and have written supportive tags onto each post, it means so much.

I can’t wait for you to see what this project has in store. Stay tuned!

Sincerely,

Bepis-Boii

#the rejects #rejects au #gorillaz #admin post #update

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jtl07 · 1 year ago

Text

jtl07 fics, summer 2023

Kinda liked doing the half year recap in June and had planned to do another one at the end of the year, but since I had quite the posting spree this month, decided to do one now.

General stats

Total on this pseud: 12 (all avatrice / Warrior Nun fandom)

Fics posted (chronological order):

to all the girls (to you, to me) -- or: Ava watching people fall in love with Beatrice, including herself

leave it all behind (I’ll see you on the other side) -- or: Ava comes back - healthy, whole, quiet. Too quiet.

the long, delirious, burning blue -- or: the moody Top Gun 2 (Maverick) AU

another little peace (restful pieces): something old, something blue -- or: the girls buy cereal; or or: Bea learning the difference between safety and familiarity

looks for you in everything (finds you there) -- or: Switzerland vignettes based on items found in their bedroom

Enhanced Beings Tech Support transcripts -- or: What if there was technical phone support for “enhanced beings” like halo bearers?

another little peace (restful pieces): lets you see the wonder of it all -- or: Ava meets a member of her family

another little peace (restful pieces): like a boat -- or: Beatrice plays Stray Gods

late night vigil -- or: camila learns about beatrice's strap; she helps in her own way

another little peace (restful pieces): to always wake up to you -- or: avatrice proposal based off of SimplyKorra's fantastic headcanon

another little peace (restful pieces): perchance to dream (no more) -- or: Ava wakes up from a dream

can't go back -- or: Five times Beatrice tries a food for a second time

(More numbers, thoughts, and some plans below the cut)

More numbers

Total words: 36720

Shortest: 685 (to always wake up to you)

Longest (one-shot): 5987 (the long, delirious, burning blue)

Average/Median word count: 3060 / 2019

General thoughts

Nearly 10k more words in the past 3 months than I wrote the first half of the year - I guess being in a safe space after your life has been turned upside down makes a difference, huh?

I still don't know what happened this month - specifically, the two week period from 8/14 - 8/26 where my fingers were just trying their best to keep up with the stories pressing in my brain lol (willing to bet it's somethingsomething healing and how it can take many forms, like this kind of intense spike)

Fun fact: This is only the second time I've written a one-shot over 5k words this year (3rd time ever in my many years of writing fic). It's always interesting to look at the average / median word count because it's been firmly in the 2k range. I still want to challenge myself with longer work, they just take time and energy yknow? Under 3k, I feel really comfortable now, which is a cool feeling

Fic that surprised me:

Honestly, everything that happened in that intense two week period (i.e. everything posted after "the long, delirious, burning blue") was a genuine surprise. Every time one of those ideas happened, I felt like I was just trying to keep up. I was really glad to have the space - emotionally, physically - to write those stories.

And I guess what surprised me also was just how wide a range they all were. I've been trying to work on just "writing what will get written" and learning to turn off the judgemental voice in my head that says things like, "you should be writing more," or "you should be writing better ideas." It was a surprise that these ideas just kinda flowed without much friction, yknow? I'm taking it as a sign of growth :)

Fic that was the hardest to write:

Oh gosh hands down leave it all behind (I’ll see you on the other side) - I had to discard full drafts and start over from scratch multiple times to get to what's actually posted. I had tried different perspectives, different settings, different points in the story, but I just kept getting stuck. I think part of it was because when I write, I usually start with a vibe or an arc - with this one, I was starting with the turn, the twist - which I don't often write either. So writing this kind of story was new on all fronts

can't go back was also a bit frustrating to write - I've been dealing with a sudden recurrence of brain fog so I know part of it was that, but idk, I feel like it could have been tighter thematically

Fic that I'm proud of:

Definitely the Top Gun 2/Maverick AU, the long, delirious, burning blue. I mentioned this in a comment that when I first had the idea, I'd expected it to be more of an action fic - I don't often write action, so I thought it'd be a good opportunity to practice. But, as with most of my work, it ended up quite moody, more a reflection of grief and duty.

Why am I proud of it? Because despite my initial intent, and my initial disappointment when I realized the direction it was going, I allowed myself to go with it. Writing this piece helped me accept where I am in my writing, to accept the stories I choose to write and how I write them. This fic was not at all what I had expected, but it turned out to be exactly what I needed

Runner up: looks for you in everything (finds you there) - the final word count shocked me, honestly, I didn't expect to write so many vignettes. But I was mostly proud of the diligence behind this and letting my sappy side run free lol

WIPs in the wings

Lol my WIP list is hella long - and that's not counting a whole separate document I have that's just prompts. I still have some Supercorp ideas that I've not yet fleshed out that are more on the "experimental" side that play with form and formatting - I've also some avatrice ones in "genre" as well.

Surprisingly, I've a couple AUs I've been turning over in my mind - I blame playing Stray Gods for making me remember some video games I'd grown up playing lol Oh and I've been pondering how to do a litrpg/gamelit style fic as well.

There's a couple longer one-shots that I've been pecking at but are going to take me a while to finish - there's one that's sort of a sister to every leaf that falls (never stops falling) (not a continuation, more like a sister in terms of vibe and tone), and another that explores Ava having a new ability (will I ever stop being enamored with Switzerland era? The answer is no lol).

But mostly, I'm just going to vibe with happens - "write what will get written" and all. We'll see where it all goes!

If you've read this far, thanks a ton for your support and going on the ride that is my fics lol - much appreciation to y'all!

#my writing #jt writes fic #words about my words #avatrice #jt's fic recap

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daniwib · 11 months ago

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Fic Writing Review 2023

Words and fics

• 281,412 words published to ao3

• approx. 150,000 more unpublished (unfinished WIP’s)

• 2 fandoms (911 & 911 Lonestar)

• Most recent drop: Night at the (Wax) Museum – an utterly cursed piece of work that is virtually unreadable. Seriously. I dare you to try. I wrote this for a guess-the-writer event and made it so unrecognisable as my own work that virtually no one read it at all. It’s a fun story and I hope that more people will read the grammatically correct version that I’ll be posting hopefully today.

• Longest fic in 2023: empty, broken, lonely, hoping at 44k (Buck and Christopher are presumed dead when Buck’s building burns down) This is one of my favourites this year.

Top 2023 fics by kudos

• empty, broken, lonely, hoping (Buck and Christopher are presumed dead when Buck’s building burns down). I really like this one and am quite proud of it. One of my favourites I’ve written this year.

• Losing Hope (Buck gets pregnant right before the lawsuit but loses the baby). Huh. This surprised me. I never thought I’d write mpreg or lawsuit fic OR that it would be one of my highest kudos’d fic this year. How bizarre!

Upcoming events and projects for 2024

Gah this is scary, I have so many.

Reluctant Werewolf crack – I really need to sit down and finish the last chapter of this. It’s about half done.

Coronation crack – likewise. I got blocked when RWRB was released and featured a polo scene very similar to what I was planning for Buddie in England and haven’t been able to get back to it since. I think I’ll scrap that chapter and just finish it off. I loathe having unfinished wip’s partly posted, it does my head in.

Big werewolf AU – featuring all my favourite tropes of kidnapped Buck, worried Eddie, Buck whump and Eddie whump too. I started it in January 2023. It’s fully plotted and maybe 2/3’s written at around 70k.

Navy Seal Buck – there’s something so fun about secretly bamf! Buck going all out to protect his firefam. He gets whumped during the course of, naturally. Again, started in January 2023, fully plotted and is maybe half done at about 50k-ish.

Angsty Buckley family drama set around the Madney wedding aka the one that will make you all weep. Fully plotted, partly begun.

Kidnapped TK – this one is so big and complex that I’m thinking of turning it into a novel some day. Fully plotted and partially written.

Eddie porn reviewer. Plotted only.

Buck sex worker. Plotted, partially written.

Carla romance novelist gets Buddie together. Plotted, partially written.

Plus the other 90+ ideas in my Ideas folder!

I’m unlikely to get much done before Christmas, too busy with family stuff and am recovering from having to have an emergency appendectomy while also having Influenza A this week. It’s been… rough.

Same for January as hubby and I are going on the first holiday alone together since having kids – Tasmania here we come! I am very glad my surgery didn’t ruin that.

Thank you for the tag @sherlockcrossing

No pressure tagging: @daughterofscotland @rogerzsteven @cal-daisies-and-briars @ronordmann and anyone else who wants to share!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

#tag game #fanfic #my writing #Ao3 #Whump #Angst #911 #Buddie

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milogreer · 6 months ago

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blake 🤗

rubs hands together like a supervillain. ↳ send me a character!

My first impression: BASTARD. i’ll kill you. get away from sunshine and bestie or i swear to god i’ll gut you like a fish you FREAK. etc LMAO i remember first listening to his confession audio and going to courtney like “he has been talking my fucking ear off for what feels like three hours!!!” 😭😭 he somehow managed to ride the line of annoying dickhead and actually scary villain and i absolutely couldn't stand him

My impression now: oh my god i have not been this brand of obsessed with a character in years. like. he is in my head CONSTANTLY, i’ve listened to the balance three times and i’m considering a fourth, i have at least two more rambles about him/bestie to post, he’s got the longest playlist out of all my redacted playlists. if he had merch i think i’d go broke. it’s brutal man i want him back so badly. i miss that freak.

A favorite thing: the devotion !!!! say what you will about his methods and i’ll likely agree with you but oh my god his devotion … to see the person you love the most die in your arms over and over again no matter what you do to change it and be so wrecked by it that you get involved with a cult trying to contact ancient gods for just the CHANCE to maybe save them. doing unimaginable things in your pursuit to keep them safe. to be so obsessively in love that it makes you delusionally cocky enough to look the god who just said they shaped your reality in the face and say “i’ll do whatever you need, as long as you save my love.” he's CRAZY

Least favorite thing: he is so fucking stupid LMFAO. like it’s a fantastic character trait to be so blinded to reality because he’s got tunnel vision but you can’t help but be like what the FUCK are you DOING when he does shit like dropping the ward to kill himself via shade so he can do exactly what brachium said not to. truly the guy in a horror movie you yell at for doing something so inconceivably stupid to push the plot forward and i wanna strangle him for it sometimes

Favorite line/scene: sigh … the last scene in “falling for your yandere childhood friend” … the switch on “i won’t be able to give you space” ?? COME ON. it made me sick on my first listen but now it makes me sick in the opposite direction 🫣 ughhh that scene is just so good because it’s really easy imo to go through this audio out of context of the balance overall and trick yourself into thinking like, oh, he’s just kind of a guy. aww. and then it switches and it’s like HUH?? “the things i think about you, how much i want you, it’s the stuff you’re not supposed to say out loud” + “if you pick this, it’ll be all of me - and we both know a lot of that’s not pretty” ?? oh it is so delicious.

Favorite interaction that character has with another: :modcheck: “looking for answers with your dreamwalker boyfriend” when he comes in to talk to elliott and sunshine 😫 i’m such a sucker for condescension and it just oozes out of him here. the patronizing little hums after “can i call you eli?” and “that deathwalker friend of yours really left you out to dry, huh?” and “but don’t worry. i’m sure he’s very proud of you.” >>>

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: I WANTED BRACHIUM TO BEAT HIM UP i’m so disappointed he didn’t get to feel brachium’s wrath bc he deserved to after putting sunshine and elliott through all that bullshit. i hope they face off again eventually somehow

A headcanon: when he turned 18 him and bestie went and got little tattoos out of one of those roulette/mystery egg machines. i haven’t decided what they got or where yet though because i’m too indecisive! he also has a snake tattoo like this :)

A song: I HAVE SO MANY. but the one that kicked off my blake obsession is explode by mother mother so it’ll always be one of the most important ones 💘

An unpopular opinion: kind of suggestive so i won’t Get Into It but i don’t think he’s as dominant as perhaps he would seem to be … i’ve been really back and forth on this though so don’t quote me here

#THANK YOUUU for feeding my obsession 🖤#anon #asks #blake #redacted audio

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loveinhawkins · 1 year ago

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oh goodness, I just did a reread of nbtdad and thought of the director's cut thing for a couple scenes as I did so I'm so excited two seconds lemme go find them!!

in the meantime (and hopefully you don't mind multiple asks from the same person), [presses a star sticker to your hand] tell me something about any fic you want, please!

(oh so touched you were re-reading! i’ll be updating nbtdad as soon as i can, was actually working on the ending recently—don’t worry, we’re not quite there yet! not ready to say goodbye to it ❤️)

i don’t mind multiple asks at all, feel free to send as many as your heart desires! looking forward to answering the rest of yours ❤️

ooo… i’ll talk a little bit about this ficlet, pre-series 3 pre-steddie crossing paths on one of steve’s last days of high school, posted on ao3 as like something from the silver screen.

He jumps up onto the window sill to better enjoy the breeze, stretching his legs and idly looking outside. He just catches Eddie scoffing, the little aside he makes: “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Steve turns his head to him. “What?” Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Just… you,” he says. And it’s said with a kind of reluctant fondness, almost like they’re friends—which is bizarre, Steve thinks, since this is definitely the longest conversation they’ve ever had. But maybe the approaching summer break has Eddie all sentimental. “What about me, Munson?” Eddie gestures at him, as if to say uh, everything, but it somehow doesn’t come across as an insult. “Just… the way you do things sometimes. Like you’re in a goddamn movie.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “Dude, I’m just sitting. Anyone could do this.” “Nah, Harrington. It’s all in the execution, y’know?”

it makes me laugh thinking about this moment from Eddie’s POV, because his internal thoughts as Steve sits on the window sill are mostly …are you fucking kidding me followed by swiftly changing the pronouns of a police song, every little thing he does is magic.

i liked hinting at this kinda reluctant but huh maybe not really infatuation Eddie has going on. Like in this instance, Steve really does hop onto the sill gracefully, but he could also do anything and Eddie in his poetic, rose-tinted view would find it graceful. Like I’m imagining Steve accidentally dropping his lunch tray while recovering from the fight with Billy and Eddie just sighs in despair at himself, because how does Harrington even do that with style, Jesus Christ, Munson, this is a new low.

in that fic in general with the title and the mention of movies shots and whatnot, i wanted to show a sorta commentary on how obviously the show itself has got iconic shots, and also that Steve is feeling frustrated with himself because his life hasn’t panned out idealistically, no girlfriend (but now he’s quietly gaining more perspective on that), no dream college. the it’s a wonderful life references also compare Steve’s frustration to the main character George Bailey who wants to leave his small town & ‘see the world.’ it also foreshadows some more of Steve’s self-sacrificial tendencies cause George ends up staying in his hometown for the sake of the people who live there. While Steve doesn’t technically actively choose to stay in Hawkins, he does end up staying and protecting the kids. ❤️

fic director’s commentary ask game

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #loveinhawkins fic commentary #pre steddie

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rj-drive-in · 10 days ago

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Strange Brew Department:

Happy Halloween! Happy Tricks! Happy Treats!

For October Wine, one must gather the ingredients one year in advance, because that’s how long it must ferment.

Wet orange maple leaves collected from the forest floor no later than the ides; pine cones that have yet to drop, along with a bed of needles for their repose; a cupped handful of wild blueberries picked at dawn; a handful of chestnuts no bigger than your thumbnail; the longest continuous strip of birch bark possible; a baker’s dozen of Honeysuckle flowers collected while trespassing; a pumpkin; a patch of moss; and, most importantly, seven Hedgehog Mushrooms, collected in the nude under the full moon.

Halloween night, as the Witching Hour approached, I gathered the ingredients on my kitchen counter and pulled out my grandmother’s yellow, crumbling recipe, sealed in its clear plastic sleeve (no fear– I also scanned it and backed it up to the cloud).

Normally I would use that nice vintner kit that I got from Amazon a couple of years ago, but this was to be something special. I used Gramma’s old fermenting bottle. It was the size of a large baby and made of thick green glass, with a finger handle and an ancient cork clamp lid.

Following the recipe to the last handwritten letter, I poured the mix into the mason jar, sealed it tight, and stored it away in a cabinet in the back of my garage.

An eventful year passed, and most of the events were not welcome. Few of them, but all of them, affected me personally.

As October rolled around again, many felt that the gallows humor and graveyard mischief of Halloween were inappropriate after all that had happened, but my appreciation of the holiday ran deeper than that.

Keisha caught up with me at the mall on Friday. “Hey, Hester,” she said, hugging me. “I’m having a little get together at my place on Halloween. Just a quiet thing, no costumes or anything. I hope you can be there.”

“I think I’ll just stay home,” I lied.

“Just a half dozen people or so. Some single boys.”

I laughed. “That’s okay.”

“Chips and hard cider.”

“Nah.”

“Still missing your gramma, huh?”

“Yeah. Always.”

“She was a real sweethearted lady.”

“Best ever.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” I smiled for her.

She hugged me again. “Okay, but the invitation is open if you change your mind. We’d love to have you.”

“Thank you. I’ll think it over.”

She continued on her way and I continued on mine.

I met Violet coming out of the supermarket with an armload of Halloween candy, just as I was going in.

“Hi, hon,” she said with a one-armed hug and a cheek kiss. “I guess you’re all ready for All Hallow’s Eve.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sexy Hippie costume.”

“Just my regular clothes,” I laughed.

“Same thing,” she said. “What are your plans?”

“Just home,” I lied.

“No date?”

I shook my head and she shook hers back at me teasingly. “You’ve got to move on eventually,” she said.

“And I will. But it was nice. I’ll let it linger a little.”

“Mmm,” she said. “I know what you mean. That’s why I never brush my teeth right after eating ice cream.”

I laughed. She was always coming up with crazy, but accurate, metaphors like that. “What about you two?” I asked.

“We’re staying the weekend at his sister’s place in Nashua. We still don’t want to take too many chances with the pandemic.”

“Good idea.”

“Well, I gotta run. Stay safe.”

She continued on her way and I continued on mine.

Piyali got me on Skype me that night from her parents’ house in New Jersey. She was still recovering from the injury to her face that she got at the beach over the Summer, and I’m pretty sure she had some kind of post-traumatic stress thing going on.

“Sorry I haven’t kept in touch,” she said.

“That’s okay. How have you been doing?”

“All right. Mom and Dad want me to stay for the Winter, so I might not be back in town until Spring.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded. “I’m getting some therapy. Dad offered to pay for plastic surgery. It’s cosmetic, so the insurance won’t cover it.”

“They’re hardly noticeable.”

She shrugged. “I just want them gone.”

“I understand,” I told her. “What are you doing for Halloween.”

“Staying in. Dad likes those old black-and-white monster movies.”

“Same here,” I lied. “Movies and popcorn.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “I should go now. Let’s talk again before Thanksgiving.”

She continued on her way and I continued on mine.

Halloween night came. I turned off the porch light and most of the indoor lights. I didn’t expect any Trick or Treaters this year, but I didn’t want to deal with any that might show up.

When I brought out the mason jar of October wine and popped it open, it smelled sweet and wet and a bit smoky, just like October should. I took a deep breath of the aroma, but resisted the temptation to try some and closed it back up, leaving it on the kitchen table. Instead, I put on the Turner Classic scary movie marathon in the background, with the sound turned low, and meditated in the darkness as the hours went by.

About 11oclock, I stretched and got up and got ready to leave. In my bedroom, I undressed and put on the short cotton nightgown, blue as a daisy, that Gramma gave me last year when she found out she was going to die. She bought it especially for this occasion and this was the first time I took it out.

I wore my car starter fob on a chain around my neck. I would have to carry my phone and the jug of October wine.

My carport is through a door off the kitchen, so I didn’t have to go outside yet. I used the remote garage door opener and drove out into the quiet streets. There would be few cars and fewer people about at this hour, but I really hoped I wouldn’t get pulled over. The air was chilly enough to raise goosebumps, and the stars in the clear sky were bright and crystalline, despite the suburban streetlamps. I liked the feel of my bare feet on the gas and brake. It was a fifteen-minute drive to Houghton’s Pond.

Blue Hill River Road posed the biggest risk for getting pulled over, but the only other parking lots were on the other side of the pond, which would have meant an hour’s walk through the dark woods before I even got to the right trail. Fortunately, I had no trouble. The parking lot between the picnic grounds and the ballfield was deserted and I sat there in my parked car for a minute, listening to the quiet, before getting out.

The yellow swing gate that blocked the trail to car traffic was right beside the parking lot and easy to find. I didn’t bother using the flashlight app on my phone to light my way, because the Google home page threw enough of a glow to see by in that deep darkness. I went around the gate and, after carefully picking my way barefooted through the weeds and rocks of the disused trail, I came to the edge of a crumbling asphalt road. This was the abandoned ruin of the original Route 128, which has sat here ghostly and mostly forgotten since it was replaced by the new highway system back in the 50s. Here the going got a little easier and I continued down that road for several minutes.

Gramma had left me very specific instructions on what to do next, written on the back of the recipe for her October wine. I’ve scanned that too, but I’m not going to include any details of it here. Let it suffice to say that the passage to the hidden pathway that I needed to find would have been invisible in broad daylight, let alone the dead of night, but her step-by-step guide allowed me to slip unscratched through a wall of thorns, like an interpretive dancer maneuvering through a maze.

The trail on the the other side of the bushes was very narrow and I had to pick my way through carefully so as not to lose it. But it was only a matter of minutes before I broke through to the clearing that Gramma had described.

The clearing was circular, about to fit a Burger King and covered with an even bed of grass. Just as Gramma had said, it looked as well kept as a front lawn, even though nobody ever came this way. The trees that surrounded the clearing were Autumn bare, and I could see the cold white light of the rising Moon starting to peek through them to the East.

I pulled my nightgown off over my head, folded it up and lay it in the grass at the clearing’s edge. Switching my phone to airplane mode, I placed it on top of the nightgown. Then, holding the jug of October wine in my arms like a baby, I walked deeper into the clearing.

About a third of the way across, facing the hint of the rising Moon, I sat down cross legged with the jug in front of me. The grass was cool and moist with dew. It was just before midnight.

After several relaxing breaths, I unclamped the old cork and popped it out, raised the jug to my lips and took my first drink.

It was somewhat thicker than store wine and tasted like wet leaves and berries. It was also warm, and I could feel that warmth go down my throat and spread into my shoulders. I closed my eyes and sipped at it slowly.

When I opened my eyes again, the half disk of the last-quarter Moon had risen above the treetops and was casting shadows across the clearing almost to my knees. A soft breeze moved through the bare branches. It was cool on my skin but I still felt warm. I saw what looked like swarms of fireflies floating lazily in the dark woods, and they seemed to be flying in pairs. Perhaps they were the eyes of Halloween spirits.

Gramma had not told me what to expect, except for anything and everything. I smiled, feeling calm and warm, closed my eyes and took another sip.

When I opened my eyes again, the Moon was higher, lighting more of the clearing. Spread throughout the carpet of grass before me were a thousand mushrooms, some as tall as lilies, some as tall as corn, with slender stalks waving slowly back and forth. They were pale gray, almost white in the moonlight, except for red spots on their small umbrellas. The mushroom closest to me was being ridden by a small snail.

I sat watching the calm waves moving back and forth through the field of unusual growths until I fell in rhythm with them.

Then I closed my eyes and took another sip.

When I opened my eyes again, the Moon was higher and the shadows shorter. The mushrooms were gone, but their place was taken by scores of frogs. There were frogs of all types, from warted bullfrogs as big as footballs to small pebbled tree frogs that would fit in the palm of my hand. They were spread in front of me across the clearing in a great half circle, arranged in rows, like an amphibious parliament.

They sat still and staring at me, slowly blinking, their throats expanding and contracting. Occasionally a distinctive croak would arise from somewhere in the crowd to be answered elsewhere.

Nodding, I closed my eyes and took another sip.

When I opened my eyes again, the Moon was straight overhead and it was now full. This did not seem odd to me. I tilted my head back and looked up and realized that the Moon was also larger than it should be. Every time I blinked, it grew larger still and soon it nearly filled the sky, its edges obscured by the treetops around the clearing. It was so close that I could see the crisp details of mountains and valleys and craters as if I were looking straight down at them. There was the Sea of Tranquility. There was the Apollo lander and the American flag. There were Neil Armstrong’s footprints.

The surface of the Moon was now just inches above my head, almost as close as the cool grass under my bum. I had a brief moment of vertigo and suddenly I was kneeling in the lunar dust and the grassy field was above my head like a low ceiling. The astronauts’ footprints, in their stark clarity, were right in front of me and gray moondust clung to my knees and bare feet. I was afraid to exhale, not knowing if I’d be able to breathe in again.

I reached out to touch the footprint before me and stopped, not wanting to disturb its perfection. There was a moment of vertigo again and I was back in the clearing and the Moon was back in the sky, in its normal phase.

Closing my eyes, I took another sip.

When I opened my eyes again, the Moon was behind me, the shadows of the trees stretching out in front of me. A wide dirt path, almost a road, had opened up in the forest straight ahead on the other side of the clearing. Far off in the distance, at the end of that road, a thousand miles away, was a light, and silhouetted in that light was somebody walking away. He seemed familiar, but he never turned around and soon disappeared down that relentless road.

I blinked and the path was gone.

Closing my eyes, I took another sip.

When I opened my eyes again, the Moon had almost set, leaving only traces of moonbeams peeking through the woods in back of me. The clearing was very dark now, but I soon became aware that there were other people present, moving quietly at the treeline. They were all separate, spread apart, just shadows in the darkness.

There were three of them, all unaware of me and each other. Each time I blinked, they were in different positions in the field, but seemed to be gradually, randomly, coming nearer to the place where I was sitting.

After a while, I began to make out details. They were all girls, all as naked as I was. One was brown with black curls; one was pale, with red hair and freckles; one was olive with glossy hair to her waist. It was Keisha, Violet, and Piyali.

They continued to drift slowly closer, each in her own world, until they stood in a row in front of me, staring silently at their own feet.

It was hard to find my voice. I felt like I hadn’t spoken in a hundred years. Finally, I managed to say, “What’s the matter?”

I blinked again and the clearing was empty.

With a heavy heart, I took another sip.

When I opened my eyes again, the Moon was gone and the clearing was black, the only light coming from the starry sky above. It took a very long time for my vision to adjust. Eventually, I knew that there was another human figure standing under the trees on the other side of the field. Again, it was a woman, and, again, she was as naked as I was. But this was an old woman. An ancient woman.

This was my Gramma.

She started walking slowly toward me and with each step the years melted away and the stars grew brighter. By the time she reached me, she was young, as young as I was, and I could see her clearly. She sat down cross legged in front of me so that our knees were touching and the jug of October wine sat in the tangle of our ankles.

She tilted her head at me with an odd smile and then lifted up the jug and took a long drink. She seemed to savor it for a moment, and then handed it over to me. I took a sip, but she shook her head with a wry twist to her mouth, so I took a longer drink. I placed it back down between us, feeling a little dizzy.

“It’s very good,” she said.

“I followed your recipe to the letter.”

“Next time you won’t have to.”

She took my hands and placed them on top of the jug, then placed her hands on top of mine, and squeezed firmly. For a long time, she just smiled at me and stared into my eyes with a look of adoration that broke and healed my heart.

“Gramma,” I said.

“Yes, Hester.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You do know what to do.”

“Tell me. What?”

“You don’t need me to tell you what to do,” she said. “You know what to do.”

My eyes suddenly filled with tears and when I wiped them clear, she was gone. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and took a long last drink.

When I opened my eyes again, the Eastern sky was just barely turning blue. I got to my feet a bit stiffly and stretched out all the kinks with a groan. I replaced the cork in the mason jar of October wine, noting that there was still more than half left. Plenty left over for next year. Plenty for me to continue this old and new tradition.

Picking up my nightgown and phone, I slipped back into the narrow pathway in the forest, retracing my steps to the road and the parking lot and my car and my life. I was ready to continue on my way, knowing that all the other ways, of both the living and the dead, were mine as well.

#microfiction #micro fiction #short fiction #short story #fantasy #halloween #all hallows eve #happy halloween #trick or treat #rick hutchins #rjdiogenes

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