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pupyuj · 3 days

Text

→ “long overdue.” || kim jiwon (liz) x reader.

— jiwon reunites with you, her old fling, at her brother’s bachelor party and with the sparks still in the air, you don’t waste any time to get familiar with her once more…

word count: 5.2k.

dynamic: dom!bottom!liz x sub!top!reader.

warnings: age gap (it's not much!), unnie kink, fwb to lovers, nipple play, oral fixation, cunnilingus, fingering, thigh riding, orgasm denial, edging.

a/n: FINALLY! a jiwon fic from moi 😭😭 this was supposed to be posted earlier on valentine's day but alas 💀 i really do wish i could've dropped something for feb 14th but back then i was bitter, lonely, sad, and angry so trying to write something cute and lovey-dovey was just not ideal LMAO but anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this fic 💚 only one more member and i will have officially written a fic for each of the ive unnies! WE CAN DO IT!! 😤✨ also i'm pretty sure i'm missing some warnings/tags but i'm too sleepy to remember them so...

jiwon doesn’t know why she agreed to chaperone her grown brother to his stupid bachelor party. as far as she knew, it was a boy thing. according to her brother, however, she was an exception and so, jiwon finds herself seated at the farthest corner of the bar in what might be the most expensive nightclub she has ever set foot in. she hasn’t even downed her first drink yet—she merely made a tiny tornado with the small umbrella while keeping an eye on her little brother and his ridiculous group of friends.

some of them were familiar to her, some weren’t. and some have repeatedly asked for her number in the past two and a half hours they’ve been in the place. it was after the eleventh time it happened that jiwon decided to go on her lonesome and sat on that one corner of the bar, silently waiting for the little party to end so she could get her nice, long and certainly well-deserved, sleep. jiwon really wished that she came up with some boring excuse to avoid this event. unfortunately, she couldn’t say no to her brother who was so kind to include her!

perhaps he knew that jiwon needed to look at something that wasn’t the view from the big windows of that fancy condominium where she lives. on top of all that, jiwon has been working harder than usual. but that’s only because she quite literally has nothing else to do in her life. all of her friends were busy, she was busy, and it’s not like she can just hit up her coworkers for a quick drink after work when she barely knew them. in hindsight, jiwon sort of needed this!

jiwon raises her glass to her lips, but stops midway when something curious catches her attention. a girl, a bit younger than jiwon herself, confidently marches up towards her brother and does a very familiar handshake with him before hugging him tightly. jiwon watches as the girl and her brother chat a bit. they exchanged a few jokes here and there, the girl hands him a small bag (a gift to his soon-to-be wife, possibly), then her brother whispers in the girl’s ear as he exchanges glances with jiwon, and suddenly both of them were looking at her from across the nightclub.

jiwon nearly drops her glass when she sees the girl’s face clearly. it was you—(y/n) (l/n), her brother’s former roommate and best friend all throughout college! jiwon has met you before! back when her life was a goddamn mess and her entire family thought that you were her brother’s girlfriend. but then it turns out you were more like… his sister from a different family and so that was when you and jiwon started getting to know each other.

perhaps you got to know each other a bit too well… because jiwon remembers all those times when the two of you would hang out in her room for hours and f—

“jiwon-unnie!”

the blonde haired girl springs up from her seat and waved as you squeezed through multiple crowds of people until you got to her. wow, you were beautiful. taller, older, and obviously so much prettier than the last time jiwon saw you.

which was in between her le—

“i missed you so much!” you engulfed jiwon in a crushing bear-hug which she awkwardly returned. “oh wow, unnie, you’re gorgeous! blonde fits you so well.” you were saying as you pulled away, taking in all of jiwon’s features and even threading her soft hair from behind. jiwon got goosebumps under your touch—how the fuck was she supposed to act normal in this situation?

“i am so glad you’re here because as much as i love him, i’m not as much of a boys girl anymore.” you pulled jiwon back to her seat, taking the empty one right beside hers and immediately telling the bartender about your favorite drink. jiwon finds herself completely speechless. literally. you were vibrant, you were chatty, you were so charming—everything jiwon remembers that you were all those years ago.

“mmm. never gets old.” you said after taking the first sip of your drink. you then turned to jiwon who flinched upon making eye contact with you. “what have you been doing these days, unnie? i know you’re like, some kind of big deal at this rich-people company you work for but you know… what else?” you eyed jiwon up and down before smiling at her. not even the darkness and the nearly seizure-inducing lights of the nightclub could hide that familiar glint in your eyes, but jiwon chose to ignore them.

she couldn’t help but glance at how your skirt is hiked up after you’ve put one leg over the other though.

“um, i haven’t been doing much, really. just… work and making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” jiwon said, nodding her head to her brother who was pretty buzzed at this time.

you laughed, “you guys never really changed, huh? glad to see it.” you took another sip of your drink.

“only this time i’m helping him with his road to being a husband instead of a project due in thirty minutes.” jiwon shakes her head at the memory, and she likes the way it makes you smile brightly.

“right… and are you still with wonyoung-ssi?” you asked with caution. yet you stared at jiwon as you did so, making sure she sees your ulterior motive through your eyes. jiwon feels herself crumbling under the weight of your stare, as much as she tries to put up a fight of her own.

“no… no, that’s been over for a while now.” it was a good breakup. one that ended with laughter rather than tears and anger. jiwon still talks with wonyoung to this day. why, only a week ago, wonyoung had called jiwon about her brother’s wedding! she expressed her regret about not being able to attend it due to scheduling conflicts—the life of an acclaimed supermodel was busy after all!

you looked significantly happier with the news, now gulping down your drink with a smile on your face. “h-how about you? he never told me what you did after you guys graduated…” jiwon attempts to have some control of the situation—sitting up straight, staring back at you with the same intensity, and all. was she successful? no. jiwon’s blushes as you held your stare with hers, an amused smirk now on your lips before you flipped your hair over your shoulder.

shiiit, jiwon remembers how perfect your neck looks while covered with marks left by her… oh gods, what is wrong with her?!

“well, after college, i did try getting my career started… but that didn’t work out. i ended up going back to my hometown to get back in touch with my heart and all that sentimental bullshit, and it actually worked,” you giggled, your hand brushing across your hair. “i know what i want to do in my life, but for now, i’m just…” you trailed off, raising your drink as well as quirking your eyebrow. “having fun before i can’t.” now your glass is finally empty.

“that’s good. and i’m glad the two of you are still friends. i was worried you’d grow apart.” it always made jiwon smile when she came home after a rough day at her old job and seeing you and her brother in the house, chatting and fooling around as if you weren’t burdened by all your commitments and responsibilities. it had always been refreshing seeing you, and it still is.

you propped your elbow on the table and put your chin on your palm, flashing jiwon a teasing smile, “did you miss me, unnie?”

and just like that, every ounce of confidence jiwon built up evaporates into nothing. she laughs awkwardly, hiding behind her drink, “o-of course! it was weird not seeing you guys together all the time, you know!” another awkward laugh. jiwon felt ridiculous and childish.

“no, unnie,” you moved closer, putting your hand on jiwon’s arm. she turned her head to look at you again and there you were, staring at her with clouded eyes. you then leaned closer and put your other arm behind her, your lips ghosting above her ear. shitshitshit, that’s too close. “did you miss me?”

what happened moments later isn’t exactly what jiwon would say was… a mistake. hell, it was far from it.

being trapped between the door of your hotel room and yourself while getting her neck marked up and her clothes slowly stripped down is the most eventful jiwon’s night has been.

jiwon could feel her brother’s worry all the way from here… well, it’s mainly because she knew that all the buzzing that her phone was doing in her pocket was because of him mass texting her about her whereabouts. she couldn’t be bothered to text him back right now though, not when you were already trailing your hand up her thigh and sliding it underneath her skirt. this felt familiar, and it felt good. feeling you gently rub her wet cunt through her panties felt good, feeling you softly biting on her collarbone felt good, seeing those cute eyes of yours asking for permission while you tugged on her panties felt good.

how long has it been since jiwon felt this kind of rush in her life? too long, she’d say. so why not make the most out of it?

jiwon cups your cheeks and crashes her lips into yours for the first time that night. your lips tasted like blueberries (from whatever you were drinking earlier), and jiwon loved the way you kissed her rather clumsily as if you didn’t expect her to do it first. jiwon couldn’t get enough. she pushes you further inside the room, discarding you of your jacket while doing so. she sits you down on the edge of the bed before separating from your lips and suddenly walking off, leaving you confused and slightly light-headed.

turns out, jiwon only went away to turn the lampshade on, illuminating the room with a warm orange glow before going back to you. she stared you down with hooded eyes, lust replacing the kind look in her irises that you knew and loved, and then she gently grabs your jaw, tilting your head up. you squeezed your thighs together, trying to soothe that ache in your core. god, you missed her.

“make this worth it, (y/n).” jiwon says coldly. even jiwon herself was surprised at her tone, but something in her brain liked how you crumbled under her stare. compared to the timid, nervous jiwon from earlier, bossy and demanding and… kind of harsh jiwon just did something right to you.

“you’ve always been worth it.” you pulled jiwon towards you by her hips, making her sit down on your lap. you feel her brushing your hair with her fingers, allowing you to release the tension on your shoulders and just melt into her. you’ve missed her warmth, and she’s missed yours. jiwon didn’t understand why you left when you did… but that was a question you were going to answer for her later.

much, much later.

jiwon moans softly as you start kissing her neck. your hands get busy with the remaining buttons on her shirt, revealing more of her skin for you to mark up throughout the night. you’ve already left some earlier, and they were starting to show across her chest but that wasn’t enough. you slowly pull off her shirt and let it drop to the ground, then your hands travel lower on jiwon’s body, stopping at the waistband of her skirt.

you were eager to touch her—unzipping her skirt and whining to get her to stand up and let it fall at her feet before you pulled her back into you. jiwon couldn’t help but laugh while you kissed her hungrily, and then she giggled even more when you rolled around and made her lay on her back on the bed.

you pouted cutely as you observed her and her baby pink lingerie, “hmm… were you expecting to sleep with someone in that club, unnie? you looked prepared.”

jiwon thought it was the perfect time to tease such a normally confident girl like you. so she nodded with a shit-eating grin, “the lady bartender was cute actually.” she laughs when you suddenly hop off of her abdomen, choosing to sit on the side of the bed instead. you were taking off your shoes, setting them aside before starting to discard yourself of your jewelry and putting them on the bedside table. jiwon watches you intently, her desire for you only growing by the second.

“come on, get in here already.” jiwon tugged on your sleeve, more than ready to feel your lips on her skin once again. she decided to sit up and help you with your dress though, reaching for the zipper and slowly pulling it down. she didn’t waste the opportunity to leave kisses on the back of your neck, all the way down to the middle of your back, making sure that her lipstick sticks on your skin and smiling satisfied once she sees that it did.

finally, jiwon could see all of you after all these years, and you were just as beautiful as the last time she saw you. jiwon couldn’t resist immediately grabbing your face and kissing you as you climbed into the bed—she longed to feel your skin against hers again and now that you were here, she doesn’t think she ever wants to let you go like she did back then. so, jiwon holds onto you tightly, letting you settle yourself on top of her once again while your hands impatiently explore her perfect body. your hands reach behind jiwon, unclasping her bra and throwing it aside, your hands quickly finding themselves busy fondling her soft breasts.

it was cute to see that you still adored her tits as much as you did back then. you did that thing you always did when you were intimate with jiwon, kissing all over her chest, making sure to cover every inch of skin while still massaging her tits. jiwon caresses your hair as you did your job, laughing softly in an adoring way, her smile only widening when you look up at her with your own grin.

“you’re so pretty, jiwon-unnie.” you gave the older girl one last quick kiss on the lips before leaning down and taking her nipple in your mouth. jiwon gasps at the feeling of your warm tongue slowly swirling around her nipple. it was familiar, like all of the other things you’ve done to her so far, but it also felt new at the same time. because this time, the two of you were much older, and you were doing this purely out of your true feelings for each other rather than a decision made on a whim. jiwon moans loudly when you softly and carefully bite on the hard bud, but she was quick to regain composure when she notices something quite… well, interesting.

jiwon sees how you humped the mattress slightly, trying your best to soothe that buzzing in your core on your own. jiwon decides to swiftly slide her thigh in between your legs and press it against your wet cunt, feeling all satisfied when you whine and start slowly grinding on her thigh for further stimulation. your hand that was pinching her other nipple was now gripping the sheets as you started riding jiwon’s thigh faster, whining even more as you feverishly sucked and nipped on her tit. jiwon grins, loving how she hasn’t lost her special little talent of reducing you to her obedient pet. she starts meeting your little thrusts by raising her thigh—somehow, the sight of you like this had her soaked, but you haven’t noticed at all. you were too busy trying to get yourself off!

you had to let go of jiwon’s nipple eventually, now hugging her close and whining at her chest because you were feeling so good. you’ve started shaking and your moans were shorter and higher—it only meant one thing! jiwon takes a fistful of your hair and pulls your face up to make you look at her, ignoring how you winced at the pain.

“don’t cum.” she says strictly, her grip on your hair tightening by the second the more you thrust into her thigh.

“b-but..! hnng.. i’m s-so close…! so close…” the pout, the tears, that desperate tone in your voice… jiwon almost wanted to fold, but she wasn’t in the mood for that.

“you don’t get to cum before me ever, remember? be good.”

as much as it upset you, you slowly decreased your pace until you were merely sitting on her thigh. jiwon smiles—she was happy to know that she still had some sort of hold over you. she knew she always did! why, you were always clingy towards jiwon whenever her brother invited you over, and that was even before the two of you started sleeping with each other. she always used it to her advantage, mostly in bed, of course. something else jiwon always liked: that pitiful look on your cute face when she denies you of your release. you’d always look so timid after, afraid that if you spoke incorrectly, jiwon might stop the whole thing entirely.

but jiwon was never that cruel. she’d tease you, sure, but she would always make sure to give you what you want. just as long as she gets hers first.

“look,” you watched as jiwon’s hand traveled down from her stomach to her panties. she was drenched; your fault. “do something.” she demands. shit. the dark tone in her voice and the stern look on her face was enough to get you to move lower. you pulled off jiwon’s panties, your heart beating so fast for no goddamn reason. it has been a very long time since you have seen jiwon, let alone like this. acting like this, looking at you like this. it’s got you weak.

you stared at jiwon’s pussy. soaked, tight, perfect, and most importantly, all for you.

“how cute. you’re practically drooling.” jiwon impatiently puts her hand atop your head and brings your face closer to her needy cunt. you hoisted her legs over your shoulder, then you started leaving kisses along her inner thighs—deep and sensual kisses, slow and careful right up until your lips barely ghosted above her pussy. jiwon stares at you with anticipation, you stare back at her; your eyes now dark and hungry. you keep eye contact as you licked up her cunt once, smirking while you felt jiwon’s entire body shiver at the feeling. she pushes your head a little closer, so fucking desperate that you almost wanted to be petty and tease her, but she would probably hit you for that.

and so, you give her what she wants. within seconds of your lips touching her cunt once more, you were practically making out with it. goosebumps appeared along your skin as your tongue slowly got familiar with jiwon’s taste again. it felt right, like the stars have finally realigned themselves after years of floating about the expansive universe, lost. you put your hands to use, spreading her lips apart and pleasuring her clit.

“g-good…! there… mmhn.. (y/n)-ah…!” jiwon grabs a fistful of your hair again, pushing you impossibly closer to her cunt, practically grinding it against your face. you wrap your lips around the sensitive bud, sucking softly and moaning at jiwon’s sheer taste. fuck, it was all too good. you use one hand to grip one of her thighs, sinking your nails down to her skin, and spreading it further so you could have room.

“fuck..! i want to cum, (y/n)… m-more, more..! please…” jiwon’s back arches right as you flick the sensitive bud. you slipped your tongue inside her cunt, making jiwon moan just a tad bit louder than the hotel room walls would recommend her to. the next rooms most likely heard that—good. everyone needs to know how amazing you make her feel. how you’re the only one who can make her feel this way. and everyone’s going to know it again; you used your free hand to rub jiwon’s clit since your tongue was too busy inside her.

normally, this would’ve made jiwon cum. but she was strong this time around. “fucking—god, (y/n)…! more.. more…” jiwon pleads while on the verge of tears. you free her thigh of your grip and hold her hand instead, at least it helped her ground herself at least. the more you used your tongue inside her, the more you felt her clench. her grip gets tighter, both on your hand and on your hair. you briefly glanced upwards and saw her closing her eyes shut—she was close. but you found yourself being torn between letting her reach her climax now, stall a bit longer, or… make her orgasm just a lot stronger.

you pulled out your tongue from her cunt. jiwon hisses and nearly hits you on the head for slowing down and going back to sucking on her clit as you previously did. she glared at you, but was immediately back to being at your mercy when you unexpectedly inserted two of your fingers inside her. god, she was still tight. you stared in awe as you fucked jiwon in an excrutiatingly slow pace, merely watching as her pussy clenches around your digits. you pushed further, now knuckle-deep inside jiwon. you could cum from the sensation of her spongy walls brushing against your fingertips alone but you had to keep her rule in mind.

“m-mouth… use your mouth, (y/n).. ah!” and happily you did! your mouth and fingers worked in unison on jiwon’s pussy—every time you pulled out, you’d suck and lick her clit, the routine now going back to you. you’re remembering all the things she liked done to her, even down to the tiniest details. like eye contact. your eyes fluttered open, peering at jiwon through your fringe. she was already staring at you, her face contorted to show much pleasure you were bringing to her. jiwon has never once tried to conceal her noises and she wasn’t going to ask you to slow down or anything either. you both needed this, and unfortunately for this entire damn hotel, they were going to know just how much.

jiwon loosens her grip on your head once she realizes just how tight she was holding it, now threading your hair and only gently nudging you closer whenever she thinks your mouth isn’t doing enough. you curled your fingers inside her, making her tense up once more and bring her to that familiar edge. “please, please, please…!” jiwon whispers desperately like a prayer with a single tear running down her cheek. you increased your pace and buried your face in her cunt, not caring about making a mess of your face. all you cared about was satisfying your jiwon-unnie, and that you were successful when you brought her to a mind-blanking orgasm with a single flick of your tongue.

a long moan escapes jiwon’s lips as you continue to eat her out through her climax. god, she was delectable. you were determined to not waste a single drop of her cum, lapping her up like a dog and once more relishing at the taste of her juices on your tongue. you pull out your fingers as well, making sure jiwon sees you sucking on it to show her just how much you enjoy how she tastes. jiwon was beyond flustered and she was feeling all sorts of things—overwhelmed, weak, and perhaps most importantly of all, so fucking desperate to make you feel just as good.

you don’t hear her at first. jiwon was speaking in a small voice since she was still weak from everything you did, but you do hear her later on. “come here, baby,” the nickname practically sends you scurrying over on top of her again. jiwon wipes your chin clean with her hand, smiling brightly at you as she pulls you in for a sweet kiss. she can taste herself on your lips and your tongue, and a part of her understands why you’re so addicted. “unnie’s turn, hm?” she whispers against your lips… but her kisses have sent your brain elsewhere, hence your surprised gasp when you felt her gently rub your clit through your panties.

“hah… you’re still super sensitive here?” jiwon asked.

“t-that’s my clit, unnie.. of course, i’m—ahh—sensitive there…” cheeky. even when you’re the one at her mercy now. you pulled your panties off, throwing over to the pile of clothes on the carpeted floor. jiwon was teasing you: tracing your lips with her fingers, barely letting her fingertips touch your entrance, and not even giving your clit the attention it needs now. you whine as you grind down on jiwon’s hand, desperate for more contact but she refuses to touch you.

“aww, what’s with that face?” jiwon coos, laughing slightly. you had a mix of desperation and irritation on your face. it was annoying how she was being annoying, especially at such a crucial time but you knew the exact thing you had to do to get her going.

“unnie. please. i need you…” you pleaded. jiwon leans back on the pillow behind her, finding it so amusing to watch you slowly lose every ounce of self-respect just so you can cum. fuck, if jiwon wanted to be cruel, she could! she could make you beg all night, see those pretty eyes of yours shine with tears as you cry… the sick part of jiwon really wanted it all to come true, but she’s missed you too much to prolong this any further. and so, she pushes your face closer to her by the back of your neck, kissing you passionately just to get you to calm down.

one word jiwon would use to describe how she felt for the events that followed? relieving.

it was relieving to feel your warmth around the three fingers she inserted in your pussy at once, to feel your tongue inside her mouth, to bleed slightly from the way you held onto her arms so tightly, and it was most relieving to hear you say her name so sweetly. you can have such a dirty mouth with so many vulgar words to say, especially from years before when you were younger, but whenever you were with jiwon, you were a different person. jiwon was one of the only people who you allowed to see you like this: soft, weak, and so endearing. it seems like you haven’t changed that aspect about you, and that fact within itself was relieving to jiwon.

“unnie…!” you buried your head on the crook of jiwon’s neck as you felt every inch of her fingers brush against all of your sweet spots. as expected, things were always different when it came to jiwon. being so vulnerable to other people terrified you to the point where it was almost impossible to let your heart open to them, but jiwon made it so simple. but now that you were right here, looking at jiwon and feeling her everywhere, maybe it wasn’t just simply her that made it possible for you to let yourself fall.

wait… fall?

yes. fall. all this time—you’ve fallen for jiwon but too many things made it complicated for you to fully embrace it. but now you are ready.

“i’m so happy, (y/n),” jiwon’s voice felt like a dream. you almost couldn’t hear her properly due to how much her fingers overwhelmed you. the older girl used her free hand to lift your chin, making you look at her, before kissing your lips—it has always been her favorite thing to do. “i’m so happy you came back to me. i don’t know how to express how much i missed you… surely not with words, not even with this…” jiwon plunges her fingers deep, shushing you while you moan loudly. god, she knew you too well. knew which spot to hit to get you to lose your mind, knew the exact words to whisper in your ear when she notices you were slipping away from reality, and knew exactly how to make your heart beat like it never has before.

jiwon pulls her index finger out, now fucking you faster than she ever has with the only fingers she has inside you. “good girl. god, baby… you’re getting me wet again.” jiwon locks one of her legs around yours, keeping you in place. her palm slams against your sensitive clit, bringing tears to your eyes even though you grinded on her hand desperately to feel it over and over again. part of the reason why jiwon always needed to be the one to be fucked first is because you get so tired after your turn that you just pass out, and you never got out of that habit it seems. jiwon sees how the light was escaping your eyes, it was only a matter of time before you were too exhausted to keep yourself awake.

“hm, we have to be careful, huh? can you handle it, love?”

you nodded frantically, afraid that she’d slow down had you answered otherwise, “y-yes..! ahh, yes, i can. i can, unnie.. i can—mmhn..! i can take it…” you started moving your hips, riding jiwon’s fingers just to get closer and closer for that climax you’ve been chasing after the entire night. jiwon was thoroughly amused at how determined you were. normally, you’d give up or tap out if you found it all too much, but jiwon knows you want to be good for her. especially after all this time.

“you’re so cute… but don’t worry, baby,” jiwon places a sweet, deep kiss on your damp forehead. “we have all the time in the world now.”

a curl of her fingers later and you were cumming on jiwon’s hand. the older girl stopped her movements, afraid of overstimulating you. she whispers sweet words into your ears as you let yourself go, at least that's what you think she’s doing. you could barely keep your eyes open, let alone hear. but despite your consciousness slowly slipping away from you, you still felt jiwon gently lay you down on the spot next to her. she holds you close enough that she is within kissing distance.

she was so perfect—how could you have left her?

“unnie…” you tucked a piece of her behind her ear. her laugh makes your ears tingle. you faintly hear her ask if you’re feeling okay, to which you nodded weakly at. you can see her lips move, she was saying a few things, but you can’t hear her over the sound of your heartbeat. you cup her cheek, lean close, and kiss her. maybe it was your favorite thing to do, just like her. and then, words that have always been expected to be unsaid leave your lips. some feelings that have been kept hidden, secrets that you were afraid of letting slip.

“i love you, jiwon-unnie.”

long overdue, sure. even jiwon felt it before you ever said it to her. but she thinks that your bashful smile, the way you shyly looked away from her, and your precious reaction to her saying it back made it all worth the wait.

#ive smut #ive x reader #ive imagines #ive x fem reader #ive scenarios #kim jiwon smut #kim jiwon imagines #kim jiwon x reader #kim jiwon x fem reader #liz x fem reader #liz x reader #liz smut #liz imagines #liz scenarios #girl group smut #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #kpop smut

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simplyhughes · 2 months

Note

Hi Ellie, so nice to meet you! Loved your first piece ("my girl" as a pet name makes me fold like a lawn chair)! May I please request something with Jack? The specifics are up to you, but may it please be someone who is plain and very quiet in public. I feel like that would raise some eyebrows with Jack being so outgoing and sought after. Please and thank you. P.s. I listened to "Waste" by Foster the People while daydreaming about this if you want a song rec. Sorry!

Apart of the Group

First of all, thank you so much for being my first request I was soooo excited! I got a little carried away with this idea, and I may have strayed a little from your original request so apologies there. But I think this turned out pretty cute! Also, I ended up listening to the song while writing this… 10/10 great music taste 😋

Posting on here still makes me kind of nervous, but I do want to say thank you to everyone who enjoyed my last fic!!!! I am taking request and I’m so excited to fulfill some more :P I hope this fic is good!!!

WC: 961 😧😧

Tw: social anxiety (?)

Throughout your life, you were known for your quiet demeanor, often keeping to yourself to avoid unnecessary conflict or attention. This didn't mean you were a loner; it just meant it was harder to break your shell. To anyone else, you may come off as withdrawn or timid, and honestly, that's true. But it's just a persona for those you aren't close to.

Growing up as family friends with three charismatic and unusually talented brothers was refreshing. You got to experience what life would be like if you had possessed those traits, not watching in envy but adoration. That adoration focused itself on the middle brother, Jack.

Jack didn't even have to try to get you to let your guard down; it just happened. He radiated a feeling of comfort that made him so easy to be around. After years of chasing each other, right as Jack was entering his first year in the NHL, you guys finally got together. You complimented each other in ways that were both unexpected and perfect, filling in the gaps the other lacked.

Life had picked up pace, and both of you succumbed to work. With Jack in Jersey and you back home in Michigan, you didn't get to see each other often. Being enrolled in university didn't allow for free time; you were either busing tables or hitting the books. Even though you and Jack shared troubling schedules, you two always found time to chat, even if it was late at night. Eventually, your schedules aligned. You finally were able to catch a flight to Jersey to see your boyfriend in action. On top of that, the New Jersey Devils were having a get-together for all of their wives and girlfriends. That made Jack ecstatic. He was so thrilled to be able to show off his girl, he was practically bouncing off the walls. You, on the other hand, felt queasy at the thought.

Jack had picked you up from the airport and took you back to his apartment. After basking in each other's company for the rest of the day and making up for lost time, you two settled in bed. As soon as the covers were pulled over, Jack was out. Your touch was something he craved for so long, and to finally have it alleviated all his stress, acting like melatonin.

Unfortunately, sleep didn't come as easy for you. Your mind was racing, thinking about every outcome tomorrow would bring. Will his teammates like you? Will their girlfriends like you? Eventually, you tired yourself out, and your eyelids fluttered shut with your fingers tangled in your boyfriend's hair.

The morning was spent over a cup of coffee and breakfast Jack surprisingly hadn't burned, sharing kisses and embraces in between. Both of you got ready in unison, helping Jack with his outfit and him attempting to help you with your hair. The ride to his teammate's house, who you knew as Bass, was quiet. Jack could tell you were nervous and had rested his palm against your thigh, rubbing small comforting circles. He parked along the street and opened the passenger door for you to exit. With your hands clasped, you both walked towards the front door.

Immediately, the door swung open, revealing a tall guy with a toothy grin who greeted you.He pulled Jack into one of those guy hugs and ushered you two in the door. The room was loud which made you instinctively lach to Jack's arm. Settling on the couch, surrounded by other players and their partners, Jack got to socializing. You felt eyes on you. The words you spoke were minimal and ended with you introducing yourself, with the help of your boyfriend. Your head rested against Jack's shoulder with his arm snaking around yours leaving his hand resting on your leg.

Soon enough his conversation fizzles out and he looks down at you with a soft gaze. He leans down to reach your ear, “You okay, baby?”. You let out a hum. At this point, your nerves were gone, but this still wasn't your crowd. “I'm good, just taking everything in…” you reply finally using your words. His lips meet your forehead while his hand caresses your cheek.

You two were so lost in your bubble to hear the conversation of a few of the girlfriends on the other sofa. “They are so different” one of them giggles. “I know…but it's too cute.” another responds. Jack smiles at you and turns back to talking now occasionally giving you the chance to nudge in.

As the night came to a close, you found yourself feeling a sense of belonging you hadn't anticipated. Surrounded by Jack's teammates and their partners, you realized that acceptance wasn't as elusive as you once thought. Back at Jack's apartment, you two snuggled up on the couch. His phone pinged with a text from one of the guys. “Hey take a look at this y/n…” Jack said as he shifted his phone to be your view. “Bratters girl, Nicole, wants to see if you wanna go to the WAGs luncheon thing before the game tomorrow. Look at my girl making friends and shit!” He exclaimed while pinching your cheeks. You pushed your head into his chest to hide your smile.

Today, you hurdled more than you could have if you were to do it alone. Jack brings out the best in you, pushing you when you need it. With Jack by your side, facing any uncertainty seemed less daunting. As you settled into bed, wrapped in each other's embrace, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you. Tomorrow might bring new challenges, but you knew that as long as you had Jack, you could face them head-on, together.

#jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes headcannon #simplyhughes #njd #new jersey devils #jack hughes x y/n

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exhuastedpigeon · 2 months

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Buddie Hiatus Fic Rec - Month 10 Feb 16 - March 13

Final rec list of the hiatus! Thanks to everyone who followed along while I shared my favourite fics from each month of the hiatus.

ONE MORE SLEEP UNTIL 911 IS BACK!!!

0-5k

adventures of firehose and eightpack by brewrosemilk / @gayhoediaz Mature | 1.5k Eddie stumbles upon Buck's old twitter account.

to turn my life around (today is the day) by fallingthorns / @fallingthorns Teen | 2.2k Eddie freezes, hands gripping the steering wheel again. Because Eddie loves him. And Eddie promptly flips the car into reverse and peels out of the parking lot before Buck gets to the truck.

in the meantime by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Teen | 2.3k bad things happen bingo—intubated

a place where i feel at home by Tizniz / @tizniz Gen | 3.1k Sleepy Buck wants cuddles with his boyfriend.

Suit by DaniWib / @daniwib Mature | 3.6k How Buck and Eddie’s suits get ruined before the Madney wedding.

this lovesick thing by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Teen | 3.8k buck is buck: best friend, klutz, star of eddie’s every lovesick daydream. which is to say, things are the same, except maybe what eddie’s willing to ask for

arms race by drh0rrible / @betanoiz Teen | 4.9k When Buck makes a change to his wardrobe, Eddie assumes the worst and won't rest until he gets to the bottom of the change.

5k-10k

Two, Three Times in a Row by Leslie_Knope Explicit | 6.2k “We could’ve gone again.” Eddie snorts. “I’m old. You expect me to get it up twice?” “Yes,” Buck says, like it’s a given, like duh. “I could get you to do it right now.”

lay your cards down, down, down by 42hrb Mature | 6.3k Buck and Eddie get drunk at Chim's bachelor party and wake up married.

And when I sleep on your couch I feel very safe by justhockey Not rated | 6.7k five times Buck sleeps on Eddie’s couch, and the first time he sleeps in his bed.

of laughter, loose tongues, and blurry snapshots of last night by brewrosemilk / @gayhoediaz Explicit | 7.2k Buck and Eddie get wasted, wake up hungover, and consult Buck’s camera roll in order to sharpen their blurry memories of what happened in between.

the devil's on the details by MonsterRae1 / @monsterrae1 Mature | 8.6k Eddie accidentally summons a crossroads demon who won't leave him alone until he signs his soul away. It's all tiktoks fault.

Give Us The Grown by fruitsdoesnotknow Teen | 8.6k Buck starts leaving notes for Eddie. Eddie writes notes for Buck right back. They were always going to end up writing their own love story.

Ace of Hearts by glorious_spoon / @glorious-spoon Teen | 9.6k the poker game was a date. It takes Buck a while to catch on, though.

10k-20k

For the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) by JamesPearce911 / @diazsdimples Gen | 10.6k Buck, Eddie and Christopher go to the zoo to see the baby hippo and Eddie gets all up in his feels about it.

Cooperative Species of the Southern Coastal Husbro by Mad_Lori / @madlori Teen | 11.8k In which Abby Clark attends Buck and Eddie's wedding.

And Life Rushes In by catwalksalone Explicit | 17.4k Eddie runs into Taylor Kelly in a bar and learns a surprising new fact about his best friend.

how this silence of love hurts by bptlmevyemtc Teen | 17.6k it starts when eddie starts leaving daily fun-fact post-it notes on buck's locker. it somehow ends with them kissing.

throw a bone, i’m finally home by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Explicit | 17.9k home for the holidays is a person, not a place, and a puppy can be for christmas and forever

20k - 30k

Hinged by TazzySnow Mature | 20.3k Eddie and Buck match on a dating app.

The Shadows of Every Spark by devirnis / @devirnis Teen | 22.8k the 118 run a front restaurant for money laundering, and accidentally adopt the Buckley siblings

there ain't no turning back by 42hrb Explicit | 28.3k The Buddie healing road trip

A Family Favor by thea_zara / @theazara Teen | 28.7k Evan Buckley never expected to call in the favor he's owed. He also never expected for it to change his life forever.

30k +

Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Teen | 46.9k Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

Month 1 (May 15 - June 15) Month 2 (June 16 - July 15) Month 3 (July 16 - August 15) Month 4 (August 16 - September 15) Month 5 (September 16 - October 15) Month 6 (October 16 - November 15) Month 7 (November 16 - December 15) Month 8 (December 16 - January 15) Month 9 (January 16 - February 15)

#buddie #rec list #buddie rec list #911 #ONE MORE SLEEP UNTIL 911 IS BACK

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millerscoffee · 10 months

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dancing is a dangerous game | part two

i've got a few years on you, baby, that's all.

5.6k | joel miller x f!reader

this is part 2 of the "dancing is a dangerous game" series | other parts below:

part one | part two | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings (for this chapter): post-outbreak au. no ellie. no clickers. character development and plot!, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), soft!dom joel, masturbation (f), eye contact, trauma recall (reader and joel), grief, mentions of sarah, pining, kissing, angst, fluff. no use of y/n.

summary: joel is a survivalist who (after putting you in your place™️) has invited you to stay at his homestead for one (1) month, so that's cute

A/N: ok hi, bee here! reminder that this fic is inspired by "cowboy like me" by taylor swift. i couldn't stay away from these two! this is... a loose adaptation of post-outbreak world in all honesty. i enjoy writing fluff and angst a little too much to always incorporate the heavier topics such as clickers or things of that nature. maybe it'll come to me! i hope you enjoy this chapter, it's been a fun adventure so far. thank you so much for all of your kind comments!!! ♡

Still, you wake to the smell of Joel making coffee. It’s years old, but it’s coffee. You sit up from the couch, hair in different directions. "Hey, I'll have some of that." "Where’re your manners?" "Hey, I'll have some of that… now?" Your eyes are sheened from sleep, but you're almost certain that pulls a grin from him. You hear an exhale through his nose that translates something along the lines of fine. The sound of pouring fills another cup.

Dreams like these come to you more as flashbacks. The ones of your father, of his death – most of the time in different places than where it actually happened.

At the shoreline of a beach, on top of a mountain, in the bottom of a cave. This time your night terror happens exactly where it took place.

It wasn't nearly as poetic as you would've wanted it to be for him.

An abandoned town with old buildings and a valley just outside of it.

You can feel the heat of fire even in your slumber.

Your legs twitch in your sleep. Tears crawling out the sides of your eyes as they spill and expand into kaleidoscopic shapes on Joel's couch.

Even in your dreams, your hands shake. You can make out his face tonight. The sorrow painted on his features. The end he knew he had to face. You raise your loaded pistol.

You wake up and you don't remember it.

---

The first day you wake up in Joel's cabin, it takes you a minute to know where you are.

A gasp of air brings your awareness to the surface, a sudden need to fight as your hypervigilance snaps your eyes open.

"Oh...," you mutter, subconsciously, too groggy to make connections but you ease rather quickly. A chill comes over your sweat-covered body.

From your perspective, your eyes fix on the ceiling. The pattern of wood, the feeling of your teeth against the inside of your lips. Your body unconsciously doing everything it can to regulate itself.

You didn't expect to fall asleep the night before, much less so easily, considering you were under a stranger's roof. So it caught you off guard to be so... warm under the blanket Joel gave you that smelled like him. Despite the slight stickiness of sweat. From a dream you now aren't aware you even had.

Then again, it helped the said stranger wasted no time in getting to know you. The insides of your thighs ache, a clear marker for that moment in time.

Your stomach felt like things were working in reverse. The situation so complex you don't know how to approach it.

Still, you wake to the smell of Joel making coffee. It’s years old, but it’s coffee.

You sit up from the couch, hair in different directions.

"Hey, I'll have some of that."

"Where’re your manners?"

"Hey, I'll have some of that… now?" Your eyes are sheened from sleep, but you're almost certain that pulls a grin from him. You hear an exhale through his nose that translates something along the lines of fine.

The sound of pouring fills another cup.

When you begin to move up to get the cup from him, Joel makes a grunt signaling you to stop and you sit back on the cushions. Your hands reach up to grab the hot liquid, ignoring the rush of blood pool towards your middle when you brush your fingers against his.

Too early for this shit.

You grumble a satisfied sound when the hot, bitter, old liquid reaches your tongue and your shoulders soften. You take a contemplative gaze into the cup. At the black. You wonder if the indulgence of milk ever graces Joel's mouth in a place like this.

Strange thought, but it passes.

In reality, you're doing anything, thinking of anything to distract yourself from looking up. It's inevitable, and when you do, Joel seems to be using the same tactic you are.

Very interested in a cup of coffee rather than initiating conversation.

Both of you finding easier to go with physical gestures than unraveling or understanding the other's personality. Much less small talk.

You clear your throat to break the silence.

"Thanks." You chew at your cheek. Joel's orbs pour into yours and it's more fervent than you'd like it to be.

Like you were just coming to your senses from the nights sleep you had, and he was fogging it all over again.

You look past his temple at the wall instead and he mumbles something resembling you're welcome.

It's quiet for five more minutes.

There's something about it, though, that is easy fall into.

It's not intolerable the longer you sit with it. Feels like there's no pressure to do or be anything, and that sends an unfamiliar sensation through your nervous system.

You decide to lean into it than see it as a threat. Somehow, it works. Between the rare sniffs into the air and slurps, it doesn't feel necessary to speak and you find yourself sinking into the armrest of the lumpy, yet comfortable enough, couch.

"You need help today?" You finally ask. You're here for a reason, after all. Joel needed help with... well, something. You're weren't quite sure as he was vague about it in his proposition to you, but you weren't one to take handouts.

You didn't take handouts, but you did steal them.

No need to owe anyone that way.

"Uh," Joel clears his throat, a bit jarred at the break of silence as he precedes his words with a nod, "Yeah. Stables need cleanin'. That could be a good start."

"Alright then."

Joel looks over at you with a raised brow, wondering if you had fewer words than he did. The thought washes away, and soon you're both on your separate duties.

---

Joel walks out with you to the stable where a lone, but sweet looking black horse greets you. She looks fed. Actually, she looks rather taken care of and you can tell Joel has spent a lot of his time in making sure she lives a comfortable life.

You become aware the stall could use some work – there’s some wood missing, hay is scarce, but the horse seems happy enough.

"Does she have a name?" You ask, hand tempting out for the animal to engage with. Your mind quiets at the touch of her nose brushing against your skin and your eyes gaze over the large ones she has.

Her personality is a lot like Joel's in the quiet moments you spent with him this morning: calm, kind, but generally disinterested. That tugs a grin to your cheek.

"She don't have one," Joel says behind you, his voice laced with a backstory and soaked with a mysterious pain. "Don't wanna get attached."

You don't think you've heard something so relatable.

You leave it alone.

Most of your morning is spent hammering planks of wood into the gaps of her majesty's stable while Joel takes her for a joyride. Ensuring she has plenty of exercise for the day.

She's a fairly young horse, but Joel has to makes sure her joints are warm in case he needs to go somewhere. You come to learn he does this every day. Early in the morning, he makes sure she's fed and brushed. Groomed at her feet when it's needed and exercised.

When he comes back, he hums appreciatively at the work you've done. "Looks good." You deny the way his shoulders broaden in this taut position before he climbs out of the stirrups. The way his thighs tighten in their straddle.

And you barely acknowledge his civil words, much less the tightening at your jaw from them.

"Seem pretty attached to me."

"Shut up."

A sound so unusual hits your ears and vibrates your chest. You laugh. Genuinely, not the awkward one you let out when you were undressing in front of him. Not when his eyes were fucking you. A genuine, hearty laugh.

---

You promise yourself: one month and that's it. You're out of here.

It's not that Joel has made it unbearable. In fact, it's the opposite.

There's this sense of calm at Joel's. Like even though something bad could happen at any moment, it's tucked away from the pain. Like Joel made a determination in keeping one solid buoy amidst the world of chaos. Joel made that his home.

Part of you gathers you interrupted his peace by being there. Maybe the violence you brought? Nah, couldn't be.

Yet there's another part of you that can see glimpses of his gratitude in your presence. How he cooks for the both of you, not just himself. How he's taken the time to learn your name.

Lets you use his hot water for you to take a shower. Pawning it off under some snide comment on how you needed one. You see the playfulness caper around the age in his eyes.

He shares with you what he saved all those years ago and things he's acquired now.

It's in the small nods of acknowledgement when you go out of your way to make sure he has the supplies he needs, or when you both sit on the porch only to not say a word.

Then within that there's a third, silent part of you that selfishly doesn't care whether or not he cares because he invited you, and you want to soak up every moment of these simple comforts while you can.

You dance the scales of balance. Nothing and everything at once.

---

In your time at Joel's, you learn the layout of his cabin. It's a simple thing, open layout. The living room and kitchen are side by side, bathroom around the corner.

Upstairs, 'well more like a ladder' you'd hear Joel say, that leads up to his loft bedroom. The sheets are dark, the bed is humble. But it's safe up there and he has a good lookout for any danger.

There's a second door downstairs to a make-do basement that is mostly dirt and smells of sawdust. It has supplies he's collected over the years. Things he's picked up, tools, equipment, non-perishables.

This is guarded by endless locks, and hidden by a bookcase. You find it on accident somewhere in the middle of your first week staying with him. The bookcase was off to the side, the door was open. You were already looking for him, so when you walk downstairs to find him working on something it causes you both to jump.

"Sorry! I'm sorry... I just, I was looking for you. Did you need me to till the garden?" Your question is asked quickly in a heated rush, too many words flowing from your mouth to make up for how undeniably in trouble you were.

You see Joel's eyebrows drop like you weren't supposed to see this. Not supposed to know all of his secrets. But he keeps the door cracked for ventilation when he's down there and you were supposed to be busy doing something else.

"Yeah, go ahead." His voice booms. You turn around and make a beeline back up.

He doesn't like that you know, but now you do. And it's either shrug it off, or kill you. The apathy grates at your nerves considering these are things he'd probably fought over at one point.

You take it personally that he doesn't punish you in some way for finding it out, forcing you to reflect on how fucked up that is.

You go for a walk instead.

---

You sleep on the couch the first week you're there.

The two of you haven't touched each other and it’s such a stark difference from Joel having his hands in your hair, his cock buried in your cunt the very moment you two are confronted with each other.

Confronted. That's the appropriate word. Unsure if the interaction were predator versus prey, predator versus predator. Prey versus prey.

It was animalistic and visceral when the memories flood you after the two of you say goodnight. In the dark you feel comfortable enough to explore your body, even if it’s only to touch.

It feels like a luxury to let your body be soft.

You try to not think about it too much. It happens slow.

Joel's snoring just adjacently above and it gives you incentive to traverse into your pleasures.

Your hand pushes past your shorts, languidly prying your folds apart just to find release. A soft sigh from your mouth when at touch your fingertips brushing against your clit.

You think of Joel. It's hard not to. His stupid frown, the way he takes things seriously, but holds space for you. It's easy for you to get aroused by the things he does, but more difficult to think of how undeniably attractive he is.

How everything he does sends your blood racing straight to your core. His staggering breath when he works during the day, the sweat at his brow.

You want desperately to see the sweat at his brow from between your thighs. Want his mouth to work your cunt, tongue flick and swirl at your nub of thousands of nerves that you're rolling quicker and deeper in circles.

In your wandering mind you recall seeing Joel shirtless one morning. The event caused your breath to snag while you were making breakfast. It was so out of the blue considering when the one time the two of you did have sex, he was clothed. It felt intimate. That you got to see his scars, the hairs that adorned his chest.

Like he was letting you know not only did he want you, but he was waiting for you. That it was your turn to make a move. You really wanted to, but you weren't sure you could.

Your fingers run over your slick folds, over your clit harder at the thought of how the next move would go. If you were brave enough.

Maybe you'd ride his cock, your back to him. Let him get a good view of his cock buried inside of you. If you close your eyes, you could almost feel the stretch you felt a week ago. His warmth, the scent of sawdust and musk. The skill he had in making your toes curl.

Just like they were in this moment. Biting your free fist, the rush of heat greets your climax. You try to cut the whimper from the air, but it's a struggle.

"Joel," your whisper of a moan cuts the air and you hold your breath when you feel rustling from the loft. Which really sounds like a whine, and it doesn't help much at all.

You hold your breath at the peak of your orgasm, shuddering and rolling out of it when Joel's thick voice with sleep fills the space.

"Y'call me?" There's a yawn in there, too.

Your body is spasming, coming down, and the urge to exhale is so strong it stings your lungs. Your breath hitches on the way out.

It takes you precisely 45 seconds to respond.

"No, I'm fine."

Your voice sounds broken. Fucked.

"Alright." Joel doesn't seem to phased by it. Sounds annoyed he got woken up more than anything. "Hope it was good."

That leaves your cheeks redder than they could have by touching yourself.

You roll onto your side, sleeping off the wave of embarrassment.

---

"Up. Gotta go fishin'."

You groan, stretching on the couch and he tosses your pack in your direction.

"Quit whinin', y'did that enough last night."

You groan a whine more in humiliation. "Shut up," you yawn, not quite at the point of clarity where you can fight back.

"Whatever you say. Need food. So if you wanna eat, gotta work."

You've walked pretty far out from Joel's place. You know of the river he's referring to when he says he wants to go fishing, but the two of you hadn't been there together and you certain hadn't seen the collection of fishing gear the way Joel had.

Though he only brought enough for the two of you in case of raiders. In case of someone akin to yourself, your guilt reminds you.

It's not long before you're at the riverbank. Your eyes mesmerize over the water, the presence of Joel warm at your side.

He's physically closer to you today, and you know why. Your core flutters at the thought and frustration is its close friend of your nerves. Because why would it take him so long to be this close, and why did it take something slightly humiliating happen to you for him to want the proximity.

Joel tugs at your pack that's on your shoulders and you make a slight noise of surprise. The way he thinks he can have easy access to you like that, even for something simple like putting things in your backpack, sends your mind in a yo-yo.

Going back and forth between he likes me, he likes me not. You aren't used to this, and it makes you feel weak. Like you are under his whim. You grow increasingly vexed at the thought.

When you turn around you see him holding a can of corn, and it makes sense. Cordyceps and insects don't really mix with the need to eat. Opening a can of corn, Joel baits his hook with it then yours and you scoff.

"I can do that, you know." You roll your eyes, sending your line out into the water.

"Oh, you can? Thought your wrist might be out of commission. Was doin' you a favor, really."

"Month can't go by fast enough."

"No one's makin' you stay."

That's when you're quiet, your frame facing his as you hold out your rod with one hand. You look at him like he said something he shouldn't have. Like he knows you couldn't just leave now.

"I still have my gun, you know."

You threaten. It's all you've ever known how to do.

"Jesus Christ." Joel shakes his head, averting his gaze from yours.

You don't speak much after that, deep in thought of why the idea of him running you off evoked such strong emotions within you.

Neither of you have much luck which makes you both irritated that so much effort has been put into something that is clearly proving not to work today.

Worse yet, you're proving to be distracting to Joel. Especially with events from the night before burning in his mind.

He could be stoic all he wanted to, but he's not immune to the way you fill out your jeans. The curves that accentuate your frame as you send lines out. It causes his cock to stir, come to life at the thought of him pinning you against some tree. Of slipping those jeans down just enough to slide himself inside you. To stretch you.

To get you to shut the hell up.

He shifts to conceal himself.

Yet he remembers, still, of wet you were the moment you met. How eager you were to submit to him.

Joel could feel himself being called to you, and that made things... complicated. Made it harder to just fuck you. This challenged a certain lifestyle he spent years cultivating. He couldn't touch you. Not yet.

When you get back to Joel's cabin, you're both quiet. More annoyed with each other than anything. You're sweaty and your arms are sore and come back with one trout that you have to share.

Joel cleans it, you cook it, and you barely make acknowledge each other during dinner.

---

At night, you hear Joel moan something in his sleep. His body shuffles from the loft above you while you're tucked in and he sounds scared. Heartbroken. Like his world collapsed on itself. "Sarah, baby." Even in his sleep, you can hear the pain his voice.

You don't know who that is, but she must have been important. Must have been hard to see her go, if that was the case.

For yet another reason, you find resonance with Joel and it erases your tough day with him. Somehow.

The bed rattles as he flips from what you assume is his front to his back. The sounds of his night terrors pervade the night until slowly they resolve to silence. That almost seems more unnerving, but sleep takes you with him anyway.

You don't mention it in the morning.

---

In the evening, it's the last day of your first week. Somehow you made it through, you sarcastically think to yourself. Joel, despite his rough night, seems downright chipper. Like he wants to hang out with you outside of the routine you both have inadvertently created for yourself.

So you break open a bottle of whiskey and stack wood for the fire.

Although there's a generator that allows power, most of the time Joel uses candles and fire to save up on the supplies he has. The generator takes work and requires things that quite honestly are beyond your comprehension. He's obviously smart (annoying), and it shows in the things he tries to teach you – as if you'll be here longer than your verbal agreement.

It would feel like a dream if not for the constant worry someone or something could attack you at any moment. Especially when more times than not that person is yourself.

The location is pretty remote, but that doesn't mean much for the world you live in. Everything abandoned, including most people's empathy. Maybe even your own. Shame creeps up your spine to remind you just how you got here in the first place.

Taking the stout glasses from the cabinet, you take note of how soft your hair feels for the first time in a long time when you tuck it behind your ear. Focusing on not pouring the liquid anywhere but the glasses. Bringing the amber liquid over to Joel, your make it a point to brush your fingertips over the warm but solid hand that takes from you.

"Thank you, honey." You make it seem casual as you hold onto the edge of the couch to keep your knees from buckling at the term of endearment. Fuck him, he's not playing fair.

Like cat and mouse, when you think you have him, he buckles you under. Make you understand that he has more control over you than you care to realise.

A tangle that begs to be undone.

By the fire, you curl your legs when you sit on the couch and though at first it is quiet, by some weird miracle the two of you get to talking. The whiskey doing its job, you write off.

Joel keeps his cards close. That's plain to see.

So when he brings up the past, it blindsides you. He brings up his past. On his terms.

When he mentions life before all this, it's brief. No mentions of the people that would fill out spaces in your mind. No Sarah. It was more of what he did. Construction company. Football on Sundays. You see a genuine smile fall over his face, and he almost looks peaceful.

As the fire turns to embers, his gaze stays focused on the dull-orange glow and he looks tranquil.

"Enough about me, tell me 'bout you," Joel's eyes twinkle against the flame, and you'd give up the rest of your time here just to see that for a little while longer.

His voice sounds thicker like this. When he drinks. Like honey stuck inside his throat, the southern words are easy to string sentences together fluidly. You don't hide how it causes your heat to tilt to the side before realising just how hard-hitting that curiosity is.

A puff of breath exhales from your puckered lips when you lift both eyebrows. "Loaded request," you swallow the rest of the liquid courage and don't react when it stings your throat.

You tell him where you're from, parts of where you've been.

"Well. 'Was born a few years before... everything. Don't know much outside this type of life. This is probably one of the nicest places or... experiences I've ever had. You really know how to treat your bandits."

Even more indistinct than he was. Doesn't seem to bother him much.

Joel's toothy laugh startles you initially, but you soon register it's safe to do the same and your eyes gleam in response to each other. He keeps that contact with you as he finishes off his own drink to match you.

"Guess I got a soft spot for ones like you."

"Like me? What type of one might that be?"

"Nosy. Tender. Too mouthy."

You brush at your cheeks, exhaling a laugh and quiet slips again between the two of you. You're unsure of what to say, of how to keep the conversation going.

Your lips press together while you scan the room.

"You know, I've been here a week and I ain't seen you use that thing...," you wander off, changing the subject as you point at the record player collecting dust.

"That's 'cause it's for special occasions."

"Sounds to me like the 1988 Texas Longhorns NCAA National Championship should be a special occasion enough."

"Nosy. Mouthy."

"Inquisitive. Communicative. Tipsy, maybe."

"Definitely the latter."

You get your way.

Both of you stand from the couch to walk over to the record collection, and you see him pull out a record like it was made of glass.

"Texas's very own," Joel says with pride while gazing over the worn vinyl sheet of some Waylon Jennings record. The singer has a cigarette hanging from his lips in the picture and you stifle a giggle.

"What?" He asks, instantly defensive.

"Nothing! Just not used to seein' this type of stuff."

"You're in for a treat, babygirl." Shit. Your cheeks grows hotter if the whiskey didn't do it already.

Crackling starts off as the record adjust, and there's a part of you that feels sadness over the fact that you don't remember the last time you really heard music. Produced music before the outbreak.

You both sink into the couch again. The start of the record is upbeat, and equally your taste but not your taste at all.

You see the satisfaction slip over Joel's face though, and that makes it easier to get into as you pour you both another round.

"Neil Young wrote this song," you hear Joel drawl, unusually giddy and if you weren't at the edge of your seat hanging onto every word before, you are now.

Because you're getting a lesson and you're seeing him come alive. There's a part of you coming alive too, and you don't even get weirded out by the fact that this type of enthusiasm reminds you of your dad. It feels safe, familiar, and enjoyable to be around.

And so uniquely Joel, you don't get lost.

A completely different individual that somehow has entered your life and flipped it upside down.

If you weren't caught up being wrapped up around his finger, you could see yourself getting emotional over the ease of this interaction.

"Yeah?" you press, fist curling in your chin as you take a swig of your drink.

"Part of Harvest right after 'Heart of Gold'. Waylon changed the lyrics a little bit. He was known to do that."

You don't realise it, but you are grinning from ear to ear.

Like you detonated something you can't undo. Like you're watching the man's mind work in real time.

"That's pretty cool. Sounds like he did what he wanted to. Texan trait?"

"Somethin' like that." Joel grins, going back to his stillness and while you respect it, a part of you wants to say something to get him back on that train. You don't.

Joel turns the record and it's not long before you approach the end of it, a song that seems to resonate to him on an instant note causes him to close his eyes. Causes him to take in the music.

You begin to wonder what it's like when his fingers strum over a melody. If it's anything like what you just witnessed.

Whether it was the whiskey or attraction, Joel stands up. His hand reaches out for yours, and it looks so small in his hand when accept.

Joel doesn't give you much say in if you want to dance or not because he's pulling you to him, overwhelming your senses as your lips brush against the fabric of his shirt. You tiptoe to just graze his shoulder. "Ooph," you flush at the feeling of his head heavy against your own shoulder.

His arms wrap around you and you both sway. Your hands finding his hair, arms snaking around his neck. You don't move your feet very much. Instead, it's more you're holding each other. Like the drinks are kicking in and you're able to feel without the looming presence of consequence at your door.

The lyrics feel pointed, like they're saying everything he can't.

- I've got a couple more years on you, baby, that's all. -

Joel's chest vibrates at the response of his humming when his nose brushes against your hairline. Your skin heats, palm soft against the flesh of his neck and you know, unmistakably, that causes him to shiver.

Neither one of you able to look at each other yet. Despite it all.

Despite the obvious sign rearing its head.

- That's not that I'm wiser it's just that I've spent more time with my back to the wall. -

You tempt your cheek to brush against his. His stubble tickling and poking your skin at once while your thumb preoccupies the other side of his face. Against his temple, the shell of his ear.

Your eyes close because you feel so overwhelmed, all you want to do is memorise the way his body feels against you.

The solidity of his chest. The way his exhales filter through the hairs of his mustache. It causes your fingers to move from the side of his face to twist in his hair, pulling it gently if only to hold on tighter to him.

This stirs something within Joel. Makes him turn to face your neck.

There's a sort of dichotomy in the pound of your heart and how delicate it feels against the very ends of his lips. It takes you back to when you met. How he wouldn't touch his lips to the structure holding your head, and now he's brushing against it. Like he's wanting to be let in.

Even though it's feather light, it causes you gasp quietly. Your face goes crimson, moving your chin to face him.

Your lips now a sliver between each other.

You could run. You could scream. You could kiss him and let the throes of this take you under.

Definitely the latter, you decide. Pushing your mouth experimentally against the plush set, your ears ring in a way you weren't sure how they ever could.

- Saying goodbye girl don't ever come easy at all, but you've got to fly 'cause you're hearin' them young eagles call. -

Joel's lips chase yours, one hand cupping the side of your face and you feel the heat from it along your chin all the way up to the side of your head and behind your neck. It's inviting and feels discernibly uncomplicated for something the two of you resigned would be very complicated.

When the song ends, you pull away from him. You don't notice it straight away, but his arms have wrapped around you so tightly you can't get out of his grasp. And it doesn't feel overpowering, it feels tender. Joel's eyes soft like a doe's. Like the song absorbed into his blood. Like he feels that way about you.

You don't want him to let go, but there's an understanding when you pull back so does he and his grip is fleeting. Even if you objected, he still would back off. Leaving you warmed by the ghost of where his heat was.

The touch of him stays through your clothes.

There's two songs left on the record, but you aren't sure either of you are really listening to it. Joel turns around in the direction of the record player and is even more cautious than he was before in putting back the album, enveloping it in its label. Label in the sheet.

His hands careful, delicate amongst the thickness and roughness of them. You shudder, knowing he was this way with you. Protective.

When Joel back turns around, his eyes are dark. Like he's thirsty, but would only drink if you let him. He's deliberate in brushing past you on his way up to the loft, his presence lingering just at the end of the stairs.

"Come to bed."

It's simple, and what you come to learn, is Joel's way of asking. He don't. But he gives you room to make the choice.

You don't recall your eyes even scanning the living room. They only land on the broad frame in front of you, and you follow it like a beacon of light.

Beginning your second week, you don't sleep on the couch anymore.

---

It's in what you don't know. How Joel wakes up the night you hear his dream – covered in a cold sweat from a loop he has continuously gone through for years. What he could have done differently, how he could have positioned his body. Flashbacks.

His hands bracket over his eyes as he rubs them. Silently begging for peace. An end. Something.

You don't realise it, but the sight of you makes him calm. Even in your stubbornness and unwillingness to let him in. Even within his own set of inabilities to trust.

A true stillness invades his mind that hadn't experienced since the very subject of his nightmares.

He doesn't quite believe in fate, but if he did, Joel would be willing to bet she sent you.

Even more, he'd be willing to bet she would have liked you.

A/N (con't):

"a couple more years" by waylon jennings is the song they dance to. the lyrics the lyrics – cries in joel coded

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #tlou #joel miller x reader #by bee #soft!dom joel #softdom!joel #joel miller fic #tlou fic #joel x you #joel x reader #dancing is a dangerous game #joel miller fluff

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smallchaoscryptid · 6 months

Note

wait okay... you offered qsmp fic recs I LOVE FIC RECS.... please please please please please (<- guy who does not have a lot of time for looking for good fics on ao3 and loves to hear about what media his mutuals like)

okay this is going to be long and it took me so long to make so it will be under a read more and organized by ship and word count and each fic should be linked (also a promo for all my fics on ao3 which is also under the username smallchaoscryptid)

Misc Recs:

Under 1k:

Andrea Doria by White space (Blanc_u) it's like a character study of roier and his dealing with pepito and its relation to his pants (very good almost made me cry)

1k to 10k:

danse macabre by bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti) bolas dancing together (just a really fun fic to read)

confiança by atthebell forever comforting cellbit after the black shulker investigation (this fic lives in my brain because atthebell just writes 4bit so well)

Estoy Lista by WhyB cellbit invites jaiden to live in his castle with him and roier (god this fic makes me think about what would have happen if jaiden and roier would have actually kept talking reguarly without bobby)

dead tired by notsubtleatall (orphan_account) roier makes cellbit go to sleep (god i love this fic so much)

Spiderbit Recs:

Under 1k:

napping is better with two by FlowerBox sleepy catbit with roier (really cute)

1k to 10k:

Feather-Light by BecausePlot cellbit crawling into bed to sleep with roier (really cute)

i'm scum, i'm waste (i'm what you want) by songbirdscoo sick cellbit that takes place after spiderbit has a breakup and richas finds roier to take care of sick cellbit (this one is so fucking good its a bit angsty bc of the breakup but its so good)

not quite but we're almost there by atthebell spiderbit takes a walk that is totally not a date (this one is so good and so soft)

The Red Means I Love You!! by Anonymous roier accidentally gets caught in the middle of a ritual cellbit was doing (this fic was so good it took me a bit to realize what was wrong with roier and then once i did i reread the fic and was shaking him violently this fic and its sequal are litterally so good)

that's the deal, my dear by Mitos (SeriouslyCalamitous) cellbit gets turned into a cat and finds roier (this fic is litterally so cute and i love it so much)

Drown With Me by doodooagentg jaiden makes cellbit take care of roier after cellbit had killed abueloier and roier is still angry about abueloier's death (this has such its quiet uptown vibes its insane and ive reread this fic so many times because roiers anger is so acurate here and the ending is just so ahhhhhh)

Helping a friend out by cherryplotting roier helps cellbit solve a puzzle and cellbit gets a kiss (FUCK, THIS HAS A SECOND CHAPTER NOW had to read that before i post this second chapter is also so good)

Over 10k:

It’s Just Some Little Thing by CurrentlyWorry enimies to lovers au where bobby and richas are friends but spiderbit ends up hating eachother for a little bit (god this one was so good its 171k and i read it in two days and am thinking about reading it again)

Breaking Dawn by Anonymous cellbit is a monster hunter looking into werewolves and meets a guy who turns out to know a lot about werewolves (this fic is unfinished as of right now but is so good and i cant stop rereading it)

those of flowering hearts and wilting souls by yourfauxentropy beauty and the beast au with a twist (this one is so good there was a point where i thought this fic wasnt going to have a happy ending but it still had such a grip on me)

your palms; a home for my soul by mars_revived roiers heart is shattered in to peices and he shouldnt be able to love ever again but he meets cellbit who might be able to help him (i need to read this one again its so good and like how subitally the author has them fall in love has me insane)

mystical time, cuttin' me open then healin' me fine by foolich (enhypen) festa junia timeloop!!! festa junia timeloop!!! festa junia timeloop!!!festa junia timeloop!!! (i love this one so much because the author was so good of messing with the readers feelings with the timeloop)

interstellar by mirotic_chess cellbit gets trapped on a distant planet after he crashes on it and is luckily helped out by one of the inhabitants (god the ending of this fic makes me so!!!)

Estoy Lista by WhyB by de4thveins roier sneaks away from his princely duties to gawk at cellbit

Fitpac Recs:

1k to 10k:

Promise? by TastyToast takes place during the happy pills arc pac runs away and fit finds him and comforts him

Trust Me? by AelinCreativ another happy pills arc fic but its what happened if fit would have been there for pac when it happened (probably my favorite one of these type fics)

Beyond the Haze by Mitos (SeriouslyCalamitous) happy pills arc but fit is there for pac the entire time (this one is also really good)

#Williams whispers #fic recs #i did my own summaries because otherwise this would be so much longer

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scribbling-dragon · 6 months

Text

don't turn out the lights (kiss yourself goodnight)

summary:

“Hi,” Martyn continues to grin, even as it turns awkward and even guiltier. “I'm coming over. Can I come over?” Martyn pauses on the bridge then, as though just realising his presence might be unwanted after ditching him all morning. “I don't know if I should let you,” he says. It’s not an answer either way.

(ao3 link)

(7,119 words)

[hi! talking in bold so this catches your eyes ooOOooo anyway! this is the FINAL PART of this series! it's done! this is the end! meaning, everyone dies in this fic. there's your warning! there's gonna be death, injury, blood, etc. all the fun stuff! so just keep that in mind when you read it. also! it'd be really nice if you could reblog this because it took me a long time and i put a buncha effort into it! comments in the tags are even cuter- they let me know you liked it! i write for fun but i post because i want other people to also enjoy what i make, letting me know that you did quite literally makes my day.

anyway! hope u enjoy! <33]

The Isles is almost eerily quiet.

It is expected. The losses they had experienced only a day prior are enough to stun even the loudest of people into silence. It seems their world is only mirroring their mourning, not even birds singing to greet the dawn. Instead, it leaves everyone to prepare for their day, silence permeating the air around them. Even the sun appears muted, watery, as it tiredly heaves itself over the edge of the water, already beginning to chase away the deep purples of night.

He doubts any of them will be around to see another miserable sunrise such as this one.

Scott runs a cloth over the dull edge of his sword, wiping the dried blood away as best as he can manage with only a scrap of damp fabric. It’s already stained red, beyond any kind of repair. The dried blood remains stubborn, clinging to his blade as the last few echoes of others’ lives.

It flakes away as he scrapes against it with a single, sharp nail. The dried blood of friend and foe alike clumps together as it gathers beneath his nail, forcing him to stop his task and pick it out once he can no longer stand the feeling of it. He flicks it to the ground beneath him, hoping the flecks of red will become lost amongst the yellowing grass he sits upon. He still finds his eyes picking it out, like berries nestled amongst the dry stalks of grass that are determined to catch his eyes whenever he glances over.

He pauses at the sound of creaking floorboards above him, a few grains of sand pattering down onto his head. He cocks his head to the side and listens a little more intently as more creaking follows. Martyn had still been sleeping when he got up, curled comfortably in their shared bed. Scott had been tempted to stay and enjoy the peace a little longer, but his own mind was restless.

He hadn’t wanted to disturb the last few peaceful moments Martyn would probably get before this is all over, rising and attending to small tasks that didn’t really need to be done; tasks that were there to busy the hands rather than be productive. He doesn’t have that sort of time to waste, still target number one, certainly, his clock ticking down from higher numbers than everyone else, but his time is as limited as the rest of them.

His sword had been cleaned and sharpened. The blade, previously coated in dried blood so thick you could barely see its shimmer now gleams in the rapidly strengthening sunlight.

The purple hue of the skyline has been almost completely wiped away, leaving a pink sky in its wake. The light of it dyes the ocean a deep red, churning against the edges of their island as though it can hardly wait to devour it all once they're gone.

He continues to listen as footsteps echo overhead, uninterested in continuing to prepare for murdering his friends, waiting for Martyn to poke his head through the doorway and begin chattering away. He’s always more talkative in the morning, as though he has to make up for not speaking all night.

He looks over at the sound of a quiet splash, sitting up and sword forgotten as he stands a moment later. He pokes his head out of their storage room, watching as Martyn swims away from their island and towards the mainland. He dips beneath the waves a few times, swimming quickly.

Scott lingers in the doorway, watching as Martyn emerges onto the sandy shoreline, not even bothering to rid himself of the water he’d collected on his trip over as he usually would. Instead, he looks around, searching for…something. Scott isn’t certain what it is that he’s searching for – they hadn’t even had a conversation yet that morning to go over what should be done, who to avoid, who to target – and apparently not find it as he trudges into the treeline, quickly disappearing into the murky darkness that seems to cling to any dark oak forest, still soaking wet from his short swim.

Scott withdraws into their storage room, confused and more than a little hurt. His mind races a mile a minute, barely giving him a moment to process anything before he’s thinking of another potential explanation. Did they have a conversation last night that indicated Martyn was going to do something like this? Did Martyn assume he had already left and gone searching for him?

Only, Martyn had swum over there like a man possessed, like he would die if he didn’t reach the shoreline as quickly as he did. And yet – and yet – the moment he reached his destination he had looked around, as though uncertain of where to go.

Scott likes to think that he can read Martyn quite well, after the multiple times they’ve gone through these games together, and also the time they’ve spent together on this very island. He likes to think he can read Martyn well. And the way Martyn had looked around, on that shoreline, had not been with the intent of finding something lost, it had been done with the confusion of someone that had walked into a room and forgotten what they were going to do.

But, there’s no point in catching up with him yet. No reason to dive after him and catch up; see if he can shake any answers loose from the man. Not when he still has arrows to make and a bow to restring.

They can talk later. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

=== === ===

“Now, I'm not a professional,” he tells Cleo, hopping down a few more blocks and squeezing into the gap he’d left for himself. There’s no redstone involved in this, only the tiny guide in the back of his head that’s jumping between steps as he attempts to remember how to do this, struggling to reconcile the new information he had with the idea that he’d already gotten it right.

He’d done it wrong last time, his hands still stinging from the hot blast that had gotten him before he managed to shove his shield in front of himself, letting that take the brunt of the explosion rather than absorbing it with his face.

“Never said you were,” he feels a shadow fall over him as Cleo leans down to peer at what he’s doing. “Reckon you're gonna blow the both of us up again?”

“I wouldn’t stand so close,” he chuckles, feeling rather than seeing as Cleo steps back. He slowly, carefully, places another bundle of TNT into the minecart, feeling the thing rattle with the weight of how much TNT he’s shoved into it. The sculk clings to his hands as he sets it down onto the block, gripping onto him as he attempts to pull away, unwilling to release him.

He continues pulling his hands back until the sculk accepts its loss, releasing his fingers and withdrawing back to the dirt block he’d provided for it. He watches as it curls itself into the dirt block, then simply engulfs it. He has no better words to describe the way it simply spreads over the block, too fast for him to even track with his eyes, until the entire patch is made of sculk.

He withdraws even more carefully, slowly easing himself out of the hole. He’s aware of the way the dirt clings around his shoulders. One wrong move could set off the trap he’s just spent the better part of ten minutes setting up, and he’d probably be blown to bits alongside it.

Cleo waits until he’s completely free of the hole before continuing to speak. “Where’s your other half today? Didn’t think you came as a single package anymore.”

“Very funny,” he forces a laugh as he turns to glare at them. “I don't know,” he answers. Not at all bitterly. “He ran off this morning before I could even get a chance to speak with him, went off to do…something.”

He sees Cleo frown, eyebrows creasing together. “And you haven’t tried to find him?”

“He needs something, then he’ll find me.” He dismisses Cleo’s worries easily – he’s been dismissing his own all morning, ignoring them in order to actually get anything done. Dismissing Cleo’s probing questions and slightly worried glances is far easier. “He’s been acting all funny recently anyway. If he’s gone off to sort himself out, then that’s fine.”

“Wait, Scott,” Cleo moves around him, pressing their hands down onto the small tunnel entrance and blocking him from poking around in there a little more. He leans back on his heels, knees digging into the ground as he glares up at her. “That’s not at all like Martyn. He sticks around other people as best as he can, even if it means bouncing between several groups. You're telling me he’s disappeared and you're not even worried?”

“Of course I'm worried, Cleo.” He huffs out a breath, resisting for only a moment before he raises his hands to his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. It relieves a little of his stress, and also means he doesn’t have to look them in the eye anymore. “But there’s nothing I can do about it, so I just have to wait and sit tight and hope he shows up.”

“You said he was acting weird,” Cleo asks, after the silence has hung between them for a moment. “Weird…how?”

“I don't know,” he sighs, dropping his hands. Cleo stares at him. “Ugh, I guess, like, spacing out? He was acting really weird after, uh, yesterday and the whole,” he waves a hand, “canary business. But I thought that was just the shock of all that, and then all the stuff after that. I didn’t even speak to him this morning, but there was this weird air around him. It was really fucking strange, Cleo, and I don't even know what it means!”

“Yeah, alright, alright,” Cleo hesitates for a moment, before patting him on the shoulder. “I think that’s just how he gets at this point. I think he was like this last time? I’d have to repeat myself several times for literally anything to get through to him.”

“I keep forgetting you were partnered with him last time,” he huffs out a laugh. “So he just gets like this every time? Why doesn’t anyone say anything?” He pauses. “Have you said anything?”

“To Martyn? No.” Cleo glances over at a shout from the Clock Tower, then back at him. “To anyone else? …Also no. I didn’t think it was my place to pry or ask around, and I guess that’s the common sentiment. Maybe he’s done it every single time. Maybe he only started doing it last time. Who knows? Maybe he's just gone insane.”

“Pretty sure that’s Joel you're thinking of,” he jokes, and then regrets when it opens up a pit in his stomach.

“Maybe go find him,” Cleo says. They both ignore the slightly heavier air around both of them, the mention of Joel souring their moods rather quickly.

“Yeah,” he brushes the dirt from his hands. “Yeah, I will.” He stands, eyeing the inconspicuous path ahead of them. “Thanks, Cleo.”

“No problem. Hope you find him.”

So do I, Scott doesn’t say. Hope you're still kicking around when I’ve found him, he keeps to himself too. He knows the Clockers aren’t doing well for time, all of their clocks far lower than his own, even after donating some of his time to Scar earlier.

He can feel Cleo watching him. Maybe they're giving him some of their own well wishes.

=== === ===

Going onto Skynet is never his favourite thing. But he’s been poking around on the ground for long enough that he’s rather certain Martyn isn’t hanging around there. Unless he’s dug himself into a hole underground as it currently hiding there until his clock runs out, he’s not on ground-level.

Meaning, into the skies he goes. The ladder is wonky and the rungs are thin enough that they threaten to snap under every step he takes upwards.

He can feel his hands growing sweaty the higher he ascends, nervousness making him glance down and come to terms with just how high he was in the air. With nothing to support him but a quickly and shoddily built ladder to nowhere.

He hauls himself up onto the main chunk of Skynet, grateful for the ground beneath his feet; solid despite being a thousand feet in the air. A drop from here would definitely kill him. A real risk, he realises, when an arrow thunks into the ground at his feet.

He glances over in the direction where it came from, dropping into a crouch. He’s not certain whether that shot was a mistake or a warning. It could have been fully intended to send him stumbling backwards and over the edge. But another arrow doesn’t follow, leaving him staring across the gap between their bridges, the group of three staring back at him.

…Three?

He can just barely see Etho crouched behind the makeshift wall he’s thrown up, the very tips of fuzzy white ears peeking over the edge of the dirt barricade, and Tango beside him is distinctive with his hair aflame. Meaning, no, his eyes are not deceiving him; Martyn really is crouched over with the other two, watching as they shoot at him.

He straightens up, almost planting his hands on his hips and yelling across the gap then and there. For Martyn to just ditch him earlier, and then for Scott to find him with people that have been relentlessly hunting him? Unacceptable. He only holds his tongue because shouting across such a wide gap is embarrassing, and not at all conducive to a proper conversation.

He stares across the gap a little longer, before holding a hand up in the universal gesture for wait.

He then takes a very brave step away from the main landing pad at the top of the ladder, the bridge narrowing even further and leaving him running quickly across the thin branches of Skynet. He keeps his shield held loosely at his side, and can only pray that Etho and Tango – or, gods forbid, Martyn – decide to get in an easy kill and shoot him.

He gets onto the same bridge as them before they start shooting at him, close enough for Scott to start talking to Martyn, even if it means he has to yell to be heard.

“Etho!” He jerks to the side as an arrow skims past his face, close enough that he can hear it whistle as it passes him. “No need!”

He hears Etho chuckling easily enough, even hunkered down behind his own makeshift shelter, only daring to peek over the edge once a moment has passed and his heart no longer threatens to leap from his chest. Martyn, Etho and Tango all peek back at him, lined up near perfectly. Scott might be tempted to take a photo if he wasn’t so irritated.

Another arrow shoots past his face and he scowls, pulling his own bow out and firing right back at them. He sees Tango jump in place and duck down as the arrow goes right over his head, far too high to actually hit anyone.

Several arrows embed themselves in the front of his small defence within a few minutes, making it easy to reach over and collect them up, adding them to his own quiver. “I've got arrows for days!” he calls over to them, grinning and urging them to continue shooting at him.

He notches another arrow, back pressed against his barricade before popping back up again, aiming and ready to fire.

Martyn visibly startles when he reappears, halfway across the bridge connecting them. He almost falls, Scott thinks, teetering dangerously on the edge as he readjusts his balance, shield held cautiously but not protectively in front of himself.

“Martyn,” he warns, not releasing his arrow but not dropping the bow either. He keeps it carefully trained on Martyn’s face, even as Etho and Tango continue to watch the two of them curiously. Martyn glances upwards from where he’d been watching his feet, smiling guiltily. Good.

“I don't know if I should let you,” he says. It’s not an answer either way. Something that Martyn seems to realise too, as he doesn’t keep moving forward, remaining rooted in place on the stupidly thin bridges that TIES built on a whim and everyone else decided to use. “Why are you with them?” He jerks his bow towards Etho and Tango, taking it off Martyn for a single second.

A single second which is, apparently, long enough for Martyn to run across the rest of the space and drop down beside him, both of them huddled far too close behind this too-small barricade. His knee knocks against Martyn’s, their legs pressing together when he lets them. He’s twisted awkwardly to continue aiming the bow at Etho and Tango, reluctant to take his eye off of them even if Martyn demands his attention with pleading eyes.

“Because I've not seen you yet today,” Martyn’s hand is warm on his arm. Near burning at the point of contact as he pulls at him, urging him to lower his bow. He holds the string of his bow tense for only a moment longer before heaving a great sigh and loosening it gradually, allowing the arrow to fall free from where it had been notched and into his open palm. Martyn continues, seeing him giving in, “I woke up and there was no-one here. There, wherever,” Martyn shrugs. “And then I just…” he trails off, eyes sliding to the side.

The hand on his arm slackens a little, turning from a comforting grip to a weight on his arm. The point of contact no longer burns, his skin warming up and adjusting to the sudden heat of another person.

“And then you just…?” Scott prompts, frowning when Martyn doesn’t give him a response. He’s still watching something off to the side, but when Scott turns to look where he is, there’s nothing there. No person trying to kill them or mysterious floating entity that would cause the kind of look Martyn currently has in his eyes.

“Hey,” he waves a hand in front of Martyn’s face, frowning when that continues to get no response from him. He rests his hand on Martyn’s cheek, growing even more concerned when that fails to get a reaction from him, sliding his thumb along Martyn’s cheekbone. His hand slips lower to cradle Martyn’s face, bringing his other hand to pat him on the cheek, like trying to wake someone up.

Martyn blinks, eyes refocusing, and then jolts. Scott holds onto him, keeping him in place as he regains his bearings from…whatever the hell just happened.

“When’d you get so close?” Martyn asks, clearly going for joking and missing it by miles. He lands somewhere around confused and worried instead, which only concerns Scott more.

Scott pauses for a moment, considering his next step. “Aw,” he tilts his head to the side, thumb still brushing against Martyn’s cheek affectionately. “Don't tell me you got so caught up in seeing me that you forgot to pay attention?”

Martyn laughs, leaning in a little closer, close enough that their noses are just shy of touching. His eyes are completely focused now, not drifting over Scott’s shoulder to look at something only Martyn can see. It eases something in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was so tight until it loosened all of a sudden.

“Well, it really is quite easy to get lost in your eyes. The depths of them are like an unexplored ocean-”

He shoves Martyn away from him with a laugh. “Don't you start with that,” he warns, mock angry as he wags his finger at Martyn. “That’s a terrible pick-up line, and one that doesn’t even work right now! My eyes are as red as they can be, so don't be silly.”

“Then your eyes are like the ocean in the morning,” Martyn counters. “Did you not see how red it was this morning? Like the sunrise itself had spilled into the waters.”

“How romantic of you.” He doesn’t mention how this morning was the only time the waters were dyed such a colour by the rising sun. Martyn wouldn’t know that, as a late riser, but Scott has watched those waters shimmer beneath the sunrise every morning since they were dumped here.

“Get a room!” Etho very bravely yells over at them, still hiding behind his barricade. “We wanna get past you!”

“Run on past then!” Scott yells back. “What’s there to be scared of!”

“What we might see!” Tango contribute, popping up beside his teammate. “I don't know what you two’re doing behind that!”

Scott scoffs in disgust at the idea. Not only is the entire place made of dirt, but they're also miles in the sky. Not exactly something he’d jump at the idea of.

“Go the other way then!” he yells, getting to his feet. He pulls his shield up just in case, but no arrows come his way. He offers Martyn his hand as he watches half of TIES (two-thirds, his brain supplies helpfully. Two-thirds.) deliberate over their next course of action.

“Cowards!” Martyn yells as Etho begins retreating.

Scott laughs at the offended noise Tango makes, loud enough for them both to hear it. Laughing is easier than thinking about what just happened. Easier than turning Cleo’s words over and over in his mind.

Easier to take Martyn’s hand and lead him away as though none of that happened at all.

=== === ===

He can see Etho watching him as he climbs, ears twisted backwards and crossbow held at the ready. He’s just as pleased to be up here as Etho is. All roads lead to Skynet, apparently, meaning he’s back on the hellish thing, praying that nothing breaks.

“We’re just here to talk,” he assures, crouching on the lip of cobblestone just above the ladder, reaching a hand down slowly for Martyn to take. He feels it slot into his hand easily, burning hot against freezing cold.

“Promise?” Etho keeps his crossbow held tightly in his hands. Not that Scott blames them. This is the time for temporary alliances, certainly, but he doubts anyone is above faking a temporary alliance to get closer to someone just to kill them.

“Promise.”

Martyn settles onto the ledge beside him, though Martyn sits down, legs swinging off the edge as he watches Martyn. Scott remains crouched, one hand flat against the cobbles, hunched over like some kind of gargoyle.

He probably looks like one, too. Fish-like spines and fins make it rather hard to hide the changes he’s undergone since going red. The scales layering over his skin and remaining thick until his elbows make it even more so. He can only be glad that he still has his legs, or that It didn’t decide to give him some kind of tail to weigh him down further.

“Okay,” Etho takes a step closer, and, in an incredible show of good faith, tucks his crossbow away so none of them have any weapons. “Let’s talk, then.”

Scott grins, more than a little satisfied with himself. It’s always risky reaching out for another alliance this late in the game, but taking the risk is better than leaving the ending unknown. This is a way for them to have a better shot at winning.

“The biggest hour- time, thingy, is the Nosy Neighbours,” he starts. “Pearl and Grian have the most time right now.”

“And they're a pretty strong team,” Etho glances over in the direction of the Neighbours’ tower, expression considering. “There’s three of them in it.”

Martyn hums something that vaguely sounds like agreement, but when Scott looks over at him, he’s staring off into space again, not at all registering the space around them. Scott shuffles a little closer to him, pressing his hip into his side in the hopes that the contact can bring him back from wherever his mind has wandered off to. Contact has helped, in the previous moments where he’s been like this.

“And we’re two sets of two,” Scott says. He feels momentarily guilty for pointing it out when Etho looks saddened by the reminder that Tango is gone now, too.

“Well,” Etho rocks back on his heels. “I can’t find Impulse at the moment- not a clue where he’s wandered off to.”

Maybe Etho’s words summon him, because Scott watches a blur plummet down onto the Mansion, disappearing under the water for a moment before resurfacing. Even from their distance, he’s able to make out the distinctive yellow ‘i’ on his shirt.

“Grian fell from Skynet,” Martyn says, blinking back to reality.

“Uh, no,” he gives Martyn a confused look from the corner of his eye. “That’s Impulse.”

“I- what?” Martyn glances over at the Mansion, “Oh! Yeah, yeah, that’s Impulse. Yeah.”

Etho gives them a funny look, eyes squinting as he studies Martyn.

“We can summon him over here,” Scott says, distracting Etho before he can ask too many questions. He’d been hanging out with Martyn earlier, could have seen his spacy-ness. Could identify it as something to be used later. Something that Scott would prefer him not to do. “Tell him we have Etho.”

“Like some kind of hostage situation?”

“Ooh, yeah,” Martyn nods along with Etho’s suggestion. “Let’s take him hostage.”

“Or we can just go down and meet him?” Etho suggests. He doesn’t look excited at the hostage idea, go figure. “I don't want to make him climb all the way back up for nothing.

“I don't really want to climb all the way back down there,” he complains, but its for nought as Etho clambers up to where they're sitting, leading the (very slow) charge down to the base of the ladder. His arms feel shaky by the time he reaches the bottom, from both exertion and exhaustion. He feels like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks.

Scott taps out the message on his comm, feet firmly planted into the nice sandy ground below him. It’s a comfort, to be back on truly solid ground again, even with the TIES’ wonky tower casting a slightly uneven shadow over them all.

<Smajor1995> come to us

He follows behind Martyn and Etho absently as he continues to type, hopping over the small blast craters easily and circling around the larger ones just as easily. He has to pause for a moment to bat away a zombie, sword slashing straight through its chest and sending it dissolving into a pile of dust.

<Smajor1995> we have etho

He knows its an ominous message to leave it on, especially when the two of them have been separated for who knows how long. Etho chuckles a little at it, but doesn’t send a message to reassure his teammate. A sense of urgency makes for swift feet, and they want to deal with the Neighbours as quickly as possible, he supposes. Better to do it now than when their timers are about to run out.

“What do you mean you have Etho?!” Scott spins on the spot to greet Impulse.

“As a friend!” he calls back. “We have Etho as a friend!” A skeleton shoots him as he speaks, managing to actually hit him when he’s sluggish on putting his shield up. It’s enough to make him realise how surrounded by mobs they’ve gotten, closed in on all sides, each of them beating back at least two mobs at a time.

“Let’s go!” he calls out, looking around for a place for them to actually go. He only manages to spot the little cave entrance by chance, remembering the little nook beyond that they can hunker down in for the night. Martyn catches up with him quickly when he realises where Scott’s heading. “Told you framing it like we had Etho as a hostage would work.”

“Yeah, wasn’t you he tried to run through with his sword.” Martyn mutters.

“He didn’t try to run you through with his sword,” he rebukes softly, speaking quieter as they enter the cave, aware that their voices will echo over to the following pair.

“He was thinking it,” Martyn says darkly. “I could sense it; hear it in the air.”

Scott doesn’t even get to ask what the hell that means, because Impulse is suddenly slamming the door shut and saying something about “not letting the zombies in too!”

The plan is laughably easy to make, once they get over their bickering and the small taunts they throw at each other. It’s hard not to point out Impulse’s attempts to blow him up earlier, something that Impulse receives with good grace and lets go as water under the bridge.

It’s only worrying how often Martyn spaces out, only ever chiming back in with something that nearly has Scott questioning how he knows Grian is currently away from the base, or that Pearl is up on Skynet, nevermind that all of them are underground and have been for the better part of twenty minutes, formulating the plan they're going to use to try and eliminate their biggest threat. How Martyn knows this is a mystery, but not anything that anyone is questioning, for some reason?

It doesn’t stop Scott from inching a little closer, until they're close enough to touch. So Scott can make sure he’s still real, still there. Not yet gone and seeing things that only the dead are meant to see.

It’s unnerving, how Martyn’s eyes go far away when he thinks about something, considers a question that he realistically shouldn’t have the answer to.

It’s terrifying when he tilts his head to the side, as though angling himself to listen to something more intently.

=== === ===

Oh this is new, he thinks, when he enters the tower that he knows BigB is in, and there’s no-one there. He holds his sword steady, laughing a little as he looks around.

He’s not invisible, no small swirls of smoke giving away his position as he moves. There’s absolutely no indication of where BigB is, other than the faint impression that there’s a person right in front of him.

“Oh, you're invisible,” he says aloud, mostly to himself.

“Am I?” BigB’s voice comes from a little to the left, and he swings for it, sword sweeping in a wide arc as he hopes it catches on flesh. It jerks to a stop as it embeds itself in…some part of BigB. He stares hard at that spot in front of him, but his eyes refuse to focus, sliding away whenever he tries to look for longer than a second.

“You are,” he confirms, ignoring BigB’s small grunt of pain as he yanks his sword back towards himself, holding it up defensively. This entire fight just got a lot harder if BigB isn’t the one doing this. It can only be one other doing this, sabotage against him. Something to make him fall a little easier. He loses track of where BigB is, the empty tower around them making his footsteps echo and hard to track. “I'm sure this fight will be easy enough, though.”

“No it won’t!”

Gotcha.

He swings around, spinning on the heel of his foot to make it quicker, flipping his sword at the last moment and slamming the blunt edge of his blade into BigB’s side, winding him rather than slicing him in half.

He swings his sword up to block at the shing of a blade being unsheathed, feeling the invisible weapon press down against his hands, heavy and forcing him to bend beneath it. He bends his knees, sinking a little lower. BigB laughs, excited at this upper hand he’s gained.

Scott holds it a little longer, ignoring the way his arms begin to shake from the strain. Only when he’s certain BigB is pressing most of his weight down against him does he slip away, dropping his sword and darting out of range as fast as he can.

‘As fast as he can’ is apparently not fast enough, feeling the cool metal of a blade dig into his back before he manages to slip completely away, hissing through clenched teeth at the burning sensation that quickly spreads over his back.

“Hah!” BigB cheers at this small victory, even as Scott turns back to face him. The wavering outline of something vaguely resembling a person is all he has to go off of. It’s like the wavering air above stone on a hot day. “Still confident?”

“Of course,” he scoffs. He ignores the way he has to readjust his grip on his sword, hand sweaty as he backs up another step. Whatever invisibility gift this is, it’s not fair. He has a rather good idea of who is doing this, and he cusses them out silently in his mind. Maybe They’ll be able to hear his swearing. “You think I’ll go down that easily?”

He can feel the blood soaking through his shirt rather quickly. For a surface wound, it’s bleeding a lot, and really quite painful.

He still swings when BigB comes at him again, the sound of feet on the cobbles his only indicator. Swinging in such a wide arc wrenches something in his shoulder, and he swears he can feel the flesh tearing further, strained apart like the threads of a garment, stretched beyond breaking point.

In the end, BigB catches him unawares. A rather easy feat, considering he can’t see the other man.

He gasps at the feeling of a blade piercing his flesh, stumbles back – tries to stumble backwards, finds himself stuck on whatever weapon he’s just been impaled with. The weapon he can’t see, but his mind still registers the pain pain pain of a slow death. Still registers the blood blossoming around the puncture.

He can see his insides, vaguely and through a distorted lens. It warps, as though he should be seeing something other than the tearing of his blood vessels and his parted flesh. He can see organs you're not meant to see, curled around himself in the way that he is, can see the puncturing of these probably vital organs which is not a good sign for his continued survival. His flesh is darker than he thought it would be, and bleeds for far longer than he expects.

He lasts far longer than he expected, shallow breaths wheezing out of him as he crumples to the ground.

“Woah, hey,” hands he can’t see lay over his arms, the faint feeling of pressure against his skin the only thing his mind registers. He can see his skin indent where hands press against his forearms, idents that can only be created by hands holding onto him. Hands that he cannot, for some reason, see. “It’ll be over in a sec, I’m sure.”

Scott tilts his head back and allows himself a small groan. He’s bleeding out slowly and sluggishly, he thinks he can afford a singular moment of pain amongst this shitshow.

He almost reaches the point of asking BigB to just slit his throat when the room spins dizzying circles around him, and words are coming from an unseen mouth, unseen hands brushing up and down his arms in what is probably meant to be a reassuring gesture, but is actually just unnerving.

He chokes on the blood in his mouth, and wakes with it still coating his teeth.

=== === ===

“Do you want to get BigB again?” Martyn asks, turning to him with a gleam in his eyes.

Scott hasn’t decided whether he likes this new Martyn yet or not. The Martyn of earlier, with his listless expression and drifting thoughts was not fun to deal with nor exciting to observe, but the Martyn of the here and now, the Martyn with an anticipatory gleam in his eye and a pep in his step at the thought of killing someone else is also not reassuring.

“Not really,” he replies, as casually as he can. “I got my time back from him.”

“And you don't want more?”

“Uh, not really, no.” He and Martyn are alone right now, Impulse and Etho splitting off from their little group momentarily. He doubts they’ll join back together again, everyone’s clocks hanging far too low to trust someone you only made a temporary alliance with.

(For just a moment, Scott wishes they’d come back. Come and act as a buffer between him and the ally that he no longer recognises. The gleam in his eye is dangerous, it warns. A herald of what is to come. He considers, briefly, slipping away into the night and disappearing until his clock runs out of time. Until that last grain of sand in his hourglass slips through and buries him completely. He’s not sure he wants to see what will happen if it’s just him and Martyn. When it’s just him and Martyn.)

“Alright,” Martyn drags the word out, as though he doesn’t believe him. Maybe he doesn’t, with the red-blindness that seems to descend onto everyone at this point, looming over their shoulders like a particularly grim reminder. He can almost hear the clocks ticking down, beat by beat, moment by moment. “If you say so.”

“I do,” he says. “I do say so.”

Martyn considers him for another moment longer. Watches him with those red eyes that seem to hold nothing but calculations behind them. A measure of how long it would take to overpower someone, how long it would take to bleed them dry of their blood and their time. How many arrows to divert someone from their chosen path. How many swings of the sword before their time can be claimed, like the spoils after a hunt.

Scott hates it. Hates this. Hates what his friends become. Hates what it is – who it is – that makes them do it.

Martyn shrugs and turns away. His walk is casual, deceptively so. He moves quickly, off to kill whoever it is that he’s set his mind on. Possibly the Nosy Neighbours, eyes set on them as a target, like a dog with a bone, relentlessly gnawing on it as though that will force it to produce something more.

Ah, yes. That’s what it is.

Martyn watches him as though his heart no longer beats, as though he is nothing more than a chunk of flesh to be devoured for the benefit, what he might gain from it.

Scott walks in the opposite direction to Martyn and hopes, rather selfishly, that they don’t have to cross paths again.

=== === ===

All paths lead back to the clock. All lead back to the timer ticking down, hanging heavy over their heads and around their necks; a slowly tightening noose.

Perhaps it is fitting, then, with his clock at a negligible amount that they arrive at the Clock Tower. Built at the centre of their little world. Everything revolves around the clock, and the Clockers have made sure they cannot forget that.

The face of it peers down at them, despite Scott not being able to see it from where he stands now. He can feel it. Can feel the ticking of the hands, the shifting and grinding of the gears that allow it to turn. Will allow it to turn long after each of them is dead.

Martyn and Impulse watch each other warily, watch him warily. He watches them back, far less wary than either of them.

He can see how this plays out, can see the end already in the tight grip of a hand upon a sword. Can see the way such a hand refuses to release the last weapon he holds, refuses to give up his one advantage here. Can see how the hand hesitates when moving to unstrap his armour, to unbuckle the plates and let them fall loosely to the ground.

Scott undoes the strap in one unceremonious movement, only grimacing slightly at the clatter as it hits the ground, rolling uselessly around his feet.

Martyn watches him, suspicion misting his eyes. His hand continues to falter, resting over his heart and over his chestplate. One that has still to be removed. Impulse’s armour lays on the ground, too, scattered around in pieces as though he’d simply tossed it aside carelessly in his eagerness to get it off.

Scott tilts his head to the side, almost imperceptibly, watches the way Martyn tracks the tiny movement. The way Impulse does not.

There is a question in his eyes, one that he is not sure Martyn can read anymore. The Martyn of yesterday would have been able to. The Martyn that still cared to scrub his hands free of blood, the one that cared enough to clean beneath his nails, so not even the slightest speck of blood would continue to stain his hands.

The Martyn of today is not the one he has spent time getting to know better. He is not the one that could read a question in the tilt of his eyebrows or the squint of his eyes. He is not the one that would be able to read the question in his eyes right now, swimming just below the surface. Maybe Martyn reaches for that understanding he once had, but the explanation slips away easily, a fish disappearing beneath the surface once more.

So maybe he doesn’t read the implicit permission. The silent question that doesn’t need an answer. Because Martyn might not be able to read his eyes, might not be able to read anything from him at this point, but Scott can still read him. Can still see the plan in his eyes, the way it whirrs in his brain as he smooths out the crinkles and finalises it.

Still, despite Martyn’s plan being finalised, set in stone and ready to be carried out regardless of what anyone says, Scott gives him a small nod that he might not catch. A granting of permission. A better you than anyone else. Martyn might not understand it. May have lost the ability to read him entirely.

He still ends up with a sword through the heart, pulled out slowly, longingly. Blood coats the inside of his mouth, and when he coughs, feels it spilling over, it feels like a parting kiss.

#juno.writes #mer scott (+ fishfucker martyn)#limited life #limited life fic #majorwood #trafficshipping #scott smajor #martyn inthelittlewood #mean gills #trafficblr #traffic series #traffic smp #limited life scott #limited life martyn #limited life smp #trafficfic

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cadybear420 · 1 month

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Performance for fluffember🤍

The Voice of an Angel

Fandom: High School Story (Original Trilogy)

Pairings: Aiden Zhou x Evie Ayana (female HSS MC), maybe with a small side of Ajay Bhandari x Cher Lee (female HSS:CA MC)

Characters: Aiden Zhou, Evie Ayana (female HSS MC)

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Fluff, Singing, Performance, Dancing

Word Count: 2,128

Summary: On Evie’s 18th birthday, Aiden and the jazz band whip up a little surprise for her. Takes place approximately between HSS:CA 2 and HSS:CA 3 (though my memory of the HSS:CA timeline is a little more fuzzy).

A/N: First of all: to the anon who sent the prompt, major apologies for sleeping on it for so long. Coming up with writing ideas is a bitch, but it is something I want to do more often. And there was also that one time when Tumblr turned off editing for answers to asks, which carried over to the draft post for this for a while. Second of all, I’m fucking obsessed with this song from Doctor Who (“My Angel Put the Devil in Me”, from the Series 3 soundtrack) and I think Evie and Aiden would be as well. Third of all, yes this is a belated birthday fic for Evie, but I’m glad to get it out before the end of Evie’s birthday month at least. Also haha both Evie’s birthday this year and in the setting of the fic were on a Friday. Fourth of all, arghrghrargh my first time writing a fic where one character sings to another AND does a choreographed dance to it too. It’s a lot more difficult than I imagined lol.

(Also, the outfit I imagine for the other jazz band kids)

Prompt: Performance

Source for prompts here. Even though it's long past November, I'll still accept prompt suggestions from this list year-round.

Tags: @inlocusmads @aces-and-angels @aria-ashryver @lover-also-fighter-also @jerzwriter @choicesmc @3rdstreetfrank @dutifullynuttywitch @lovealexhunt @lilyoffandoms @peonierose (as this is the complete version of this WIP and this challenge bit), and @choicesficwriterscreations

Friday, March 8, 2019. The day of Evie’s 18th birthday. She’d been planning to host a birthday party at one of her favorite restaurants in the city, starting in the early evening after school. Almost everyone she knew from school was invited.

It was late in the afternoon now. Evie took one last look at herself in her new outfit– a navy blue suit with a purple floral necktie– and grinned, before dashing to the living room. There, her dad was checking his phone.

“Alright, I’m ready to go!” she said.

He turned to her. “Actually… we can’t leave just yet…”

She pouted. “What??? But Daaaad, the party starts at 5 PM and it’s already 4:45!”

“The people doing the decorations are… taking a bit longer than expected.”

“Oh…”

“It’s a bit awkward to go to a party when they’re still putting decorations up, isn’t it?”

“That’s true,” her face softened. “Do the other guests know?”

“...yep! I’ve just told them, in fact.”

“Okay… but how long do we have to wait?”

“Shouldn’t be more than… ten to twenty minutes?”

Evie pouted again.

“It’s not that long…”

“Okay, fiiiiine, I’ll be patient…”

“And I’ll be doctor!”

Evie winced. “Dad, NO…”

…

About twenty minutes passed, and then finally, her dad said it was okay to start driving to the restaurant. After a fifteen minute drive, they arrived, and Evie wasted no time going in.

The room was alive with upbeat music, purple decorative lights and flowers, and many of Evie’s friends. It seemed like just about everyone she’d invited had shown up– her main friend group, her teammates, her friends from the other cliques and Hearst, Cher and her friends from theatre, the seniors from last year who hadn’t gone away for college…

And all of them greeted her with a big “Happy birthday, Evie!!!”, in unison.

Evie inhaled, beaming at her friends. Many of them ran over to hug her, a few others cheered for her.

Then she saw Emma and Cher push their way through the crowd and grab her by her arms.

“Evie! There’s a special surprise for you, right now!” said Cher.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” said Emma. “Just come with us…”

The crowd parted, making way for Emma and Cher to pull Evie to the opposite side of the room. As they did, the party music slowly faded out and the lights began to dim.

“What the–” Evie started.

“Shhhh. You’ll see soon enough!” Emma replied.

When they made it to the opposite end of the room, a warm spotlight turned on over her, and there she saw it. The jazz band, all set up with their instruments and dressed in matching snazzy black-and-red suits and… devil horns? Yes, devil horns.

And at the front of it all… was none other than her beautiful boyfriend Aiden, all dressed up and holding a microphone.

Evie just about stopped in her tracks as she took in his outfit– a snug, ivory-colored flapper dress that had silver beads sewn into intricate patterns, and hung just barely above his knees. Along with that, he also wore a couple of matching long pearl necklaces, a fluffy white halo accessory over his head, and winged eyeliner.

“Wow…” Evie felt her breath catch. “Aiden, you look–”

Just then, Aiden signaled to the band… and they started to play.

Evie grinned broadly, her eyes immediately lighting up at the familiar upbeat jazzy tune, and watched intently as her boyfriend danced towards her, in steps that were careful and rhythmic, yet lively.

Then the tempo slowed, and he held the microphone to his mouth and began to sing.

“I'm a country girl, I ain't seen a lot… But you came along, and my heart went pop! You took a little streetcar to my heart… And an apple of love fell off my apple cart~”

Evie’s cheeks flustered at his melodious voice. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard him sing– he’s sung to her plenty of times, and they’d practically been doing Evie-Aiden duets since the day they met. But this… this was different. Aiden had never done a solo singing performance for her before, let alone one that involved a bit of dance as well.

“You looked at me, my heart began to pound… You weren't the sort of guy I thought would stick around… Hey, but it don't have to be eternally… My bad, bad Angel put the Devil in me~”

And his singing voice was all the more different this time around too. Even later into their relationship, as Aiden had become more confident about his singing, there was always still a hint of nervousness in his voice when they sang their duets. But this time, he sang loud and clear. Like he was owning the stage.

Aiden performed a small twirl before stopping, his eyes meeting hers as he began slowly walking up to her, making her heart jump a little.

“You lured me in with your cold grey eyes… Your simple smile, your bewitching lies…”

As he sang that verse, he reached out and grabbed onto her bright purple tie, making Evie’s face heat up as he began tugging on it gently and pulling her closer to him.

“One and one and one is three… My bad, bad Angel… the Devil in me~!”

The tempo picked up again. Aiden let go of her tie and took her hand in his as he broke out into energetic dance movements while still singing the lyrics to the song, the skirt of his dress swishing about as he swayed gracefully to the instrumental music.

Evie squeezed his hand and matched his movements, her pulse racing now. All the while, the crowd watched with excitement. When they came face-to-face again, she was giving him an almost drunken smile.

Soon enough, Aiden broke from her hold and turned around, sashaying slightly as he started stepping away from her… before looking over his shoulder, catching her gaze once again.

“My bad, bad Angel~ you put the Devil in me~”

Aiden shook his butt side-to-side to the beat, giving Evie a knowing look that made her cheeks brighten. The music slowed, and he turned around to face her again.

“So, now my dear, I ain't the girl you knew… 'Cause the Angel's got Heaven, but I get you…”

He sauntered back up to her.

“And the tree of life grows tall, you see… My bad, bad Angel… you put the Devil in me~!”

The beat slowed to a more gentle, relaxed tune as Aiden placed his arm over Evie’s shoulder.

“Oh… You put the Devil in me~”

Aiden gestured towards Evie’s arm, and she placed her arms around him, taking hold of his waist as they began to rock together.

“You put the Devil in me…”

Gently and smoothly, Aiden broke out of her hold and took her hand again. Lifting her hand, he twirled himself under her arm, then placed himself backwards against her body– all without missing a beat.

As Aiden continued to sing, Evie wrapped both of her arms around his middle, embracing him from behind. Aiden pressed back against her and placed his free arm over hers, almost as if to hold her arms in place, as they began to sway side-to-side together again. Evie practically melted into him, his body warm against hers.

“You put the Devil in me…”

Then, the song picked up again.

“You put the Devil in… me~!”

He swiftly yet carefully broke from her hold again, and danced in a circle around her as he sang the last few verses of the song. She turned to follow him, their eyes locked onto each other yet again, as he gave her an almost sultry gaze.

“My bad, bad Angel, you put the Devil in me!”

At the final note, the lights slowly faded back on. Aiden stood in front of the now cheering crowd and took a huge bow, grinning proudly.

Once he straightened back up, Evie finally let out a high pitched “EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”, bouncing up and down before leaping onto Aiden, sweeping him up into her arms, and spinning him around. Aiden gasped, dropping his microphone with a loud *thunk*– but then quickly held her face in his hand and pulled her in for a passionate kiss, prompting the crowd to cheer louder.

After a moment, Aiden broke the kiss. “Happy eighteenth birthday, Darling~”

Evie squeezed him tighter. “Aiden, that was…” She took a deep breath, a starstruck look in her eyes. “Your singing is amazing… I mean, I’ve heard you sing before, obviously, but…”

A slight but visible rosy tint grew on his cheeks.

“But I’ve never done a singing performance for you, I know. I figured it was about time I did.”

“And you were fucking amazing. I’ve never heard you sing like that before… like, you were already good, but I didn’t know you were this good…”

“I mean… practice makes perfect, after all…”

“That’s true…”

He planted a small kiss onto her lips, making her whole body warm up.

“And what made you choose that song from Doctor Who for your first performance? I mean, obviously I love the song–”

“That’s just it. I know how much you love the song, and the episodes it came from.” He chuckled softly. “And, I mean… I don’t blame you. It is a fantastic song.”

Evie’s smile grew wider. “God, Aiden… I fucking love you.”

“I love you too, Evie.”

They pulled each other in for one more kiss, holding each other tightly, before she set him down.

“And I love your outfit too… you look absolutely gorgeous, as always~”

Even as Aiden beamed at her so brightly, his cheeks turned as red as the other band members’ devil costumes, prompting Evie to giggle.

“Well… I have been having a lot of fun trying on new outfits…” he said, softly.

At that moment, Ajay and Cher popped up beside them.

“Hey… if Aiden likes singing, dancing, and dressing up in fancy outfits now… you think we could convince him to join the upcoming spring musical?” Ajay said. “His talent would just be unmatched…”

Evie and Aiden turned towards them.

“The next play’s gonna be a musical?” Evie said. “I’ve been wanting to act in a play, but, uh… I don’t think I’m ready for one that involves singing…”

Aiden raised an eyebrow at her. “But we’ve literally been doing duets ever since–”

“That’s different. I can sing alright when it’s more casual, but in a professional musical performance? I’m not that good.”

“You should still consider it!” Cher chirped. “If not an acting role, you can always still be an assistant director or a techie…”

“That sounds much more my speed.”

Cher turned to Aiden. “You should definitely consider trying out for a singing role, though!”

Aiden put his hand on his chin thoughtfully. “It could be fun… I know Evie doesn’t want to sing in a musical, but imagine if we got lead roles together…”

“Oh, perhaps I could be convinced now…” Evie said, before smirking playfully. “But, let’s be real. Put Aiden in the musical, and he’ll probably just upstage all the other singers with how good he is. He’ll make everyone else look like chumps.”

“Hey!” Cher exclaimed, her face scrunching up into a pout. “Are you saying I sing like a chump?”

“What– no, I–” Evie’s face fell.

Cher dropped her pout and grinned again. “Kidding! You probably have a point… I do sing every now and then, but it could use a little more work. Especially since I’m planning to go for an acting role in the musical, of course.”

“Well, if we can’t get Aiden in a singing role for the musical, perhaps he can be a musical director and help coach the actors who are a little more inexperienced?” Ajay suggested.

“Actually… that’s a great idea!” Aiden said, his face lighting up. “I’d love to do that!”

Ajay beamed. “Oh, perfect! We’ll talk to Mr. Olson on Monday.”

“I’ll need some time to think about it… but I’ll let you know if I do decide to accept.”

“Sounds good to me!” Ajay reached his hand out, and he and Aiden shook hands. “Anyways, great job on your performance, Aiden! And happy birthday, Evie!”

“Yeah! Happy birthday, Evie!!!” cheered Cher.

“Aww, thank you both so much!”

Evie gave each of them a warm hug before they walked off. Aiden placed his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek, and she turned back to him.

“Thank you so much, Aiden. For being the best boyfriend ever, and for giving me this awesome birthday.”

“It’s my pleasure~” Aiden hugged her tighter. “But… there’s still more, of course. Ready to enjoy the rest of your birthday party?”

“Oh yes!”

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idontknowreallywhy · 8 months

Text

This one accosted me while I was trying to write something else (which appears to be A Pattern for me and writing… well… anything actually). It is very much inspired by many enjoyable conversations / informal therapy sessions with @astranite who shares my “what’s really going on with Scott” headcanon, and at the same time helped me figure out what might be going on with me too. Thank you for everything and for helping me nudge this into something shareable.

It’s also inspired by @sofasurf’s amazing set of fics about Scott’s struggles in the early days post Jeff disappearing. It’s absolutely right that after an initial crisis his brothers and grandma would have put in measures to stop him needing to work so hard and bear it all alone and I love how she tells that story.

And yet… we have Scott who 6 years later is still up late sat at that thrice-darned desk.. brothers aside, he’s CEO of a company that would employ a lot of competent people to sort out all the nitty gritty paperwork. So why is he still frequently found asleep there 6 years on?

This is my attempt to figure out some of the Reason… and not in any way a side quest distracting me from my own Big Document nemesis. Nope.

It is, however, 99% projection for which I hope you’ll forgive me. Hopefully it’s not too out of character.

Sort of an emotional hurt-comfort thing. The ending is very silly because that is apparently how I roll.

Trochilidae

Scott shook his head irritably as his eyelids drooped and flung out his hand to grab his mug… which promptly took a nose dive off the desk.

Allowing himself to face plant the polished wood for a moment he acknowledged he was, at least, lucky it was empty. Something he really should have remembered as that would have been the 5th time he had raised it to his lips only to be disappointed at the lack of caffeinated wake up juice within.

Not that it was doing any good. He scowled. It never did. The miraculous transformation from ‘Sleep of the Dead’ to ‘Alert and Ready’ that the brown stuff could bring about in Virgil and Brains remained a mystery to him. Drinking it kind of kept him grounded though, maybe that was just habit by now. Nevertheless… he shoved his chair back and stood up, glaring at the chunks of ceramic on the floor: a job for future Scott. He went to get a new mug.

Re-entering the living room, he surveyed the scene. All was quiet. Deep breath… stretch out shoulders… he tilted his head from side to side to shift the tension in his neck with a satisfying series of cracks.

1am. No problem.

He was nearly done and then he could get to bed and get a solid 4 hours oblivion before his morning run.

Back at his desk, he took a fortifying gulp of focus juice, put on his determined face, picked up his tablet and swiped up to open the annual report again. He blitzed through another three paragraphs, noted down 4 questions for the board, one for the accountant and one further point to follow up with Jack, the Tracy family lawyer, before his eye was drawn to the broken mug scattered across the floor.

Probably shouldn’t leave that.

Gordon might wander by in those flimsy deck shoes and mortally wound himself.

He laid the tablet back down, pointed at it and muttered” don’t go anywhere” to the document that had been tormenting him. Blinking rapidly as he realised quite how little sense THAT had made, he crouched down to nudge the scattered fragments into a pile he could scoop up into the waste basket.

From this angle he realised there was a lot more than just decimated mug and coffee splatters down here… there were crumbs galore, odd, sticky patches and… yes he was pretty sure that the mysterious patch of shadow tucked away under the back corner of the desk was the better part of a club sandwich. He shuffled over, crablike, and reached underneath to retrieve it, sniffed it cautiously and was just concluding it was unlikely to be worth the subsequent food poisoning when John’s hologram popped up in front of him. He didn’t even glance up to see the inevitable raised eyebrow.

“Don’t even say it, John.”

Obediently his space-brother remained silent.

“I’m nearly done. I’m just signing off the annual report for the board meeting tomorrow.”

“From… under the desk?”

Blue eyes were cast upwards as Scott strode over to the kitchen to dispose of the rancid but weirdly tempting sandwich. There was no liner in the food waste caddy. He tutted and placed the plate on the counter top to deal with in a minute.

“Obviously not, I just spotted that Gordon had left something gross lying around and we don’t want a repeat of the taco incident.”

“Okay, and what are you doing now?”

Scott looked down at the cleaning bot in his hands.

“I… well it’s clearly not been working, the place is a health hazard so I was just going to see if I could…”

This time he did raise his eyes to meet the eyebrow of judgment.

Holding up the bot for John to examine, he grinned at his little brother and shook it gently.

“Look it has googly eyes! I bet that was Gordon.”

“Unlikely to be causing the malfunction. Get Brains to take a look at it tomorrow. Or Alan, he needs the practice.”

“True. Oh, did you see the note his teacher sent through?” Scott returned the bot to its housing and jogged over to his desk to pull up the email in question. He sat down and started to type a reply.

“Scott.”

“Mmhmm?”

“I saw it. It’s non-urgent.”

“Yes but while I think of it I might as well…”

“It’s 1:27am. Why don’t you just sign off the report and get some rest. It’ll keep.”

A melodramatic huff and the offending document was returned to the screen.

“You’ve been reading this for the last four days, Scott. What’s the issue? Can I help?”

“There are just so many points I need to follow up before I can put my name to it.” Scott highlighted a particular paragraph. “What if the data this is based on is inaccurate? I haven’t seen it!” He stabbed at another “These assertions here… is it ok to say that? I need to check the industry standards for…” he gestured vehemently “six or seven of these baseline metrics. The grammar in the narrative paragraphs feels clumsy. And I haven’t even started proof-reading it for typos yet!”

Scott took a deep shuddering breath and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, weaving his fingers into his hair and gripping slightly harder than was comfortable as if that would ease the headache he knew was starting.

“The accountants have checked it, the divisional heads have checked it, Jack has been all over it at least twice. Virgil and the engineering team went through it with a fine tooth comb last week, they’ll know the baselines. I’ve checked it myself. Even EOS had a look.”

The response was barely audible.

“But what if… it’s not good enough? If someone missed something and… I didn’t spot it…”

“You don’t have to spot everything Scott. We pay smart people very generously to spot things. As CEO you are allowed to rely on them.”

Silence.

“Please… can you trust us?”

Holding his breath to fight a wave of nausea, Scott flipped to the final page of the document and added his digital signature.

With ninja-like speed John had saved the file and forwarded it to the board.

“It’s done, big brother. Go and sleep in your actual bed for a change.”

A swift shake of the head and muttered curse as big brother realised he’d gnawed through his bottom lip again.

“Can’t.” He stood up and paced the room.

“You know, maybe you shouldn’t have caffeine so late. Even Virgil…”

Scott’s snapped explanation that it made no difference whatsoever and that John KNEW that was forestalled by a series of beeps followed by a low hum as the cleaning bot started trawling across the floor.

“EOS?”

“Yeah, I asked her to see whether a firmware update would sort it.”

“Right.”

The brothers watched in silence as the little machine zigzagged around the room, bumping from one obstacle to another in an apparently haphazard fashion.

“It doesn’t seem very efficient does it?”

Scott sank suddenly to the floor in an effort to hide the fact his legs had turned to jelly.

“No, but it’ll get there in the end and everything will be done and it will all be ok.”

He snorted at his brother’s lack of subtlety and rested his forehead on his knees, concentrating on breathing evenly. He was fine. It was all fine. Again.

A few minutes passed before he noticed a faint high pitched giggle and his moment of peace was interrupted by the cleaning bot repeatedly bumping into his hip. He lifted his head to glare at it only for his eyes to make contact with the outsized googly ones jiggling wildly with each collision. His shoulders shook and he pressed his lips together to try to contain the rush of emotion rising up in his chest.

“EOS!”

As John turned to lecture the AI about when it was and wasn’t appropriate to annoy older brothers, the bot froze, all unblinking innocence gazing up at him. Scott let slip the smallest chortle then, after a beat, exploded, throwing back his head with howls of laughter, tears running down his face

It took him a while to compose himself enough to notice he was now lying on his back on the living room floor, John smiling down at him like some benevolent heavenly messenger. Smugness permeated through EOS’s voice as she enquired whether the Commander was much better now. He hiccuped. Then nodded. As he peeled himself off the floor and patted the cleaning bot absently, Scott found himself seized by An Idea.

And so it was that as Gordon awoke with his dawn alarm to find a 6-day old sandwich with giant eyes watching him from his bedside table.

The screech of a horrified squid echoed through the villa and was swiftly followed by the slamming of doors and the thundering of feet as most of its occupants tore to the rescue of a brother in distress.

The eldest brother remained precisely where he was, warm and comfortable, listening to the chaos and bemused voices. He smiled to himself and drifted back off to sleep.

[AO3]

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #scott tracy needs sleep #Thunderfluff #mostly fluff #Ok Scott’s a bit stressed #But the ending sorts him right out #EOS is a menace #And a genius

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limjaeseven · 2 months

Text

Sacrifice

Pairing: Hongjoong X Yeosang

Genre: Fantasy, Angst

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Death, use of guns, supernatural violence, extremely inaccurate vampires, bad worldbuilding

Word Count: 2,664

Summary: Hongjoong thought he'd spend his time in the military facing the barrel of a gun, not sharp teeth.

[a/n]: Written for the @pirateeznet Secret Admirer Event (I'm only technically a day late!). I got @potatomountain and I want to express my sincerest apologies to you, love, for my inconsistent contact, my inability to engage with you a ton for this event and whatever this fic is. I've never written fantasy before but I really wanted to try for you. If you like this I'd love to write you a sequel to compensate. Fingers crossed you have a fun time. Happy (belated) Valentines!

Border guard was not the role Hongjoong had thought he’d land up in when he signed up for the army but it had been his good skills and bad luck that had gotten him there. He’d always had good aim growing up and his father, a military man himself, had wanted him to continue his legacy so it was only natural for him to take an interest in the armed forces.

He was the best shot in his squadron and soon was promoted to a sniper. Just as they were about to be deployed abroad for a routine tour, chaos broke out at the border and their team was chosen to be sent in as reinforcements. That meant Hongjoong spent most of his time in a guard tower, his rifle aimed at a wired fence and forested terrain that separated his own nation from their neighbours.

His superiors hadn’t told them much about what exactly was going on, the news channels not offering any more information than they already knew. A few soldiers had been found dead near the border while out on their night duty. The bordering nation had good relations with Hongjoong’s own so the attacks made no sense. The neighbouring army had taken no responsibility for the action, pinning it on non-state actors.

Tension was high at the historically peaceful site and it had put the two allied nations at odds with each other. Hongjoong should have cared about it all, but he just resented the fact that the time he could have been spending abroad was wasted away in isolation. The person nearest to him was a guard tower over, who he could only talk to through a walkie-talkie and even that was restricted given the high alert status they were in.

And so days turned into weeks, every evening he’d swap in for his squadron mate for his shift, sitting alone for hours with a small pack of rations till mid morning, when he’d get to retire to his tent for some sleep.

There was no movement once the reinforcements came, so they thought that either the enemy had been scared away or was waiting. An offensive operation was being discussed with the armed forces of the neighbouring nation to try to root out the people behind the attacks. Hongjoong continued to not care, and wished for the crisis to come to some sort of end so that he could be doing anything else but this.

It all changed one night, though. About a month into their mission, Hongjoong had been trying to pick something to eat when he heard the fence rattle. He quickly sat up, using his binoculars to figure out where the sound was coming from, but everything had fallen silent once again.

He tried to look for the guards that were out on patrol and saw one of them fallen on the ground and the other seemingly floating in the air. Throwing his binoculars down, Hongjoong aimed his rifle at the man, the scope focusing on the soldier whose feet were off the ground, head tilted to one side and no one around him.

Hongjoong tried to think of something to do. His instinct was to signal to the guard in the other post but he didn’t have the time, so he imagined what a man would look like if he were holding the soldier up and took his shot. Immediately the man fell to the ground and the fence rattled, then there was silence.

Scrambling for his walkie-talkie, he called to the other guard but there was no response from him. He couldn’t just sit there, so he rushed down from his post, looking for someone to report to, but everyone had fallen into a deep slumber that he couldn’t wake them up from. The camp looked dead except for him.

Reaching for the handgun on his side, Hongjoong slowly made his way to the fence. The first soldier he saw seemed untouched, but clearly dead. His body lay limp with no pulse or breath. He crawled his way over to the other guard, whose limbs were twisted from the fall. His head lay turned to one side, neck covered in blood pouring out of two big punctures in the skin.

He was so shocked by the sight that he barely had the time to react to the sound of the fence rattling again, and everything went black.

When he came to his senses, he found himself sitting in a seemingly endless room. The decor looked nothing like what was local to either his nation or the one neighbouring it, as if he’d been teleported halfway across the world. Large windows decorated the room but they painted pitch black, the only light coming from large crystal chandeliers that nursed candles that shed flickering light onto impeccably polished marble floors.

Hongjoong’s head hurt and he could barely move, his hands and feet bound to the chair he was seated on. He was still in his fatigues, seemingly unharmed. “You’re awake?” A deep voice called out from behind him. He jerked in his chair as he tried to turn behind to see who it was but the high backed chair meant he had a limited range of view.

Footsteps echoed through the space as the person crept up to him, growing louder as they grew closer. And then he saw him, and Hongjoong felt his breath stop.

The man in front of him was almost paper white with how pale his skin was. He was dressed in the most extravagant suit Hongjoong had ever seen, covered in gems that glittered with every movement. He looked like royalty, with a face to match. Sharp eyes paired with soft lips and the gentlest of smiles.

“I’m Yeosang,” he said, and that’s when Hongjoong noticed the two sharp canines in the man’s mouth. He racked his brain for an explanation. This had to be a joke. Maybe he had fallen asleep at his post and he was dreaming.

But the ice cold touch of the man’s hands on his skin couldn’t have been a dream, that much Hongjoong knew. “What’s your name?”

“Hongjoong,” he managed while flexing his ankles carefully, trying to find a way to escape his binds.

“You saw me there, didn’t you?”

“Not really,” he said, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I heard the fence rattle and I saw one of our men floating above the ground so I tried to shoot whatever was behind it. But I saw nothing there.”

“Interesting,” the man muttered. “You should have been asleep. Why weren’t you?”

“How would I know? And who are you? Where am I?”

“Oh, naive humans. You’re endlessly fascinated by us but you don’t know who we are?”

“That’s not possible.”

“But it is.” The man clapped his hands and a man walked into the room, smiling at Hongjoong before standing still and tilting his head. The man in the suit stood behind him, shot Hongjoong a wink and sunk his teeth into the man’s neck.

Hongjoong didn’t know if he felt horrified or fascinated at the sight, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. For minutes the three of them stood there quietly as blood pooled around the man’s teeth and his eyes glowed.

Finally, the pulled his teeth out and wiped them clean with his tongue. The man who came in gave a little bow and walked away the way he’d come in.

“I’m Prince Yeosang. I rule a world very different from your own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry your little head about it,” he said. Hongjoong should have felt patronised but the tone was so polite he couldn’t feel angry at all.

“What we need to figure out is what to do with you.”

“Do I have to ask or will you just explain it anyways?”

“Oh shush. Your world and mine live in the same place, and the same time, just one can’t see the other. We didn’t even know the other existed for millennia but a few centuries ago, my kind figured out how to get to yours. It didn’t go well. We became addicted to feeding on you and it threatened to destroy the barriers between our worlds, and with it, your entire kind. There were a lot of fights amongst us on what we should do, and the side that wished for a peaceful coexistence won, but we had changed too much in that time.

We needed your kind to survive, so in a way we’d found our own destruction in finding you. So we started picking up a person here or there, just enough to sustain us. We kept them here, so that we wouldn’t have to keep going there. But that wasn’t enough. We realised that your kind wasn’t enough to keep us alive, but that each of us needed a specific one, one that had been changed by us all that time ago, the way you had changed us.”

“And what if you didn’t find that person?”

“We’d keep feeding on others, but we’d need more and more, and eventually it wouldn’t be enough and we’d fade. But if we found the right one, they’d change us as much as we changed them so we’d both stay alive as long as we were together.”

“So you were out there looking for your one?”

“Pretty much. I’ve looked far and wide and I’m fading fast. If I don’t find someone, then this world will go without an heir, and that could destroy the peace that’s held my world from ravaging yours.”

“Okay, so you need to find your blood soulmate or whatever. But what does that have to do with me?”

“Finding the one isn’t easy for us. There are billions of your kind out there. The only way to find out is by marking someone. If they’re the one, they’ll live.”

“So you go around killing people till you find this one?”

“No, not like that. We can catch a sense of them, but we can’t know exactly who it is. So it sometimes takes a few casualties. Fortunately your kind kills enough of your own that you hardly notice it.

Anyways, there’s a legend, that for sometimes, the connection between one of your kind and one of my kind is so close, that the barrier between starts to falter. My power can knock your people out because you have no immunity to it.”

“But I was awake,” Hongjoong mumbled. “Wait, so am I your blood soulmate?”

“If the legend is right, then you are.”

“What do you mean if it’s right?”

Yeosang shrugged. “It’s only happened a handful of times.”

“And?”

“They’re all gone because of unrelated reasons.”

“Unrelated reasons?”

“That’s not the concern here. If you’re my one, you can save your realm and my own.”

“And if I’m not, I die.”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot. But what other choice do I have?”

“If I agree to this, and I am your blood soulmate, then will I have to stay here for the rest of eternity?”

“You don’t have to, we just keep you here for your own safety. You can go back, I can come visit you for feeding when I need it, if you’d like. Our bond doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

“Okay…” Hongjoong trailed off. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to call the man in front of him a lunatic and run off, but somewhere deep down he knew he wasn’t lying. That this was the truth and he had to decide what to do.

At the end of the day, Hongjoong was a military man, and if there’s one thing he’d accepted when he’d joined the army, was that there would come a time when he’d have to lay his life down for his people. He never actually thought that day would come, but it had, and he wasn’t going to hesitate.

“You can do it.” Hongjoong said.

“What?” Yeosang asked, surprised.

“You can mark me. I can’t allow my people to get hurt.”

“You’re a very brave man, Hongjoong.”

“Or foolish, the line between the two is quite thin. Now can you please untie me?”

“Oh of course, my apologies.” Yeosang waved a hand and the restraints around Hongjoong fell on their own. He looked at them with wonder for a moment. He knew he was in for something weird but it was still odd to actually see it.

“How do we do this?”

“You just tilt your head to the side, I’ll do the rest.”

Hongjoong stood up and stretched a bit, trying to get some feeling back into his limbs. Looking Yeosang properly in the eye felt odd. Just moments before he’d towered over him, but now he felt like just a guy, a really pretty one at that. He’s about to either kill you or make you immortal, Hongjoong thought as he turned around to face away from Yeosang.

“Try to relax, this might hurt.”

“I might not last long enough to feel it,” Hongjoong couldn’t help but quip.

“Quiet, you’ll be alright.” He waited for the pain, but it never came. “I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean?”

Yeosang stepped away, looking away. “I don’t know. No one’s ever willingly offered themselves to me before, knowing that it could take their life. Every time I’ve done it, it’s been against your kind’s will, and I let myself believe it was for a good reason. But now I don’t know if I can think of it like that.”

Hongjoong was taken aback, “But it’s for both of our safety, isn’t it?”

“Part of it, yes, but I can’t lie and say that I didn’t do it selfishly even once. I don’t want to fade, not for my kind, but for myself.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, all of us want to live.”

“But you don’t.”

“Oh I do, but sometimes you have to accept that there’s more important things than that,” Hongjoong said. A part of him was sad that they’d met under such circumstances. There was a part of him that wanted to know Yeosang better, maybe find what’s hidden inside him.

“Your kind is fascinating.”

“We’re just human. Now get it on with, hopefully it’ll save more than the both of us.”

Cold fingers grazed his neck gently as his head was pushed to the side so that his cheek touched his shoulder. Soft lips brushed against his neck and Hongjoong felt a shiver run down his spine. A sharp pinch made him flinch but then it was all gone. He felt himself relax, his limbs go loose, and his fear drain away. He didn’t know how long he felt like that before he blacked out again.

When he woke up, he was back in his post, curled on the floor with his rations next to him and his rifle aimed out as usual. Hongjoong sat up quickly, checking his surroundings. Everything seemed to be fine. Maybe he did just fall asleep the night before and dreamt it all.

But he remembered firing his rifle. He looked at the bolt of the gun and placed his hand on the lever, taking a deep breath as he pulled it back.

An empty shell clattered on the floor.

#pirateadmirer #pirateeznet #ateez #ateez fanfic #yeosang #hongjoong #ateez angst #ateez fantasy au #mxm fanfic

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anzynai · 22 days

Text

Study Break!

Riddle & Ace & Chenya (TWST)

a/n: WOOOO another twst fic done! and its lee riddle!! surprisingly enough, i actually got a lot of lee riddle requests (which i dont blame u nom nom) so im planning to write those requests in the future. still, here i combined two of them so i hope u dont mind! this was actually meant to be posted much sooner but well.. got sidetracked. plus, i wanted to write another fic before i posted this one. (that did not happen) ANYWAY, enjoy!

summary: when ace is forced to study with riddle, he finds that things may not be so bad after-all when a friend of riddle’s comes to visit!

word count: 1.5k

——

“Urghhh..” Ace groaned to himself. “This sucks..” Slouching over his papers, he wanted nothing more than to just go back to his room and sleep for ten years.

See, it was his fault, wasn’t it? That he had to waste three hours of his day on schoolwork instead of doing literally anything else. It’s true that he did get a.. well, less than favorable score on his test, but no! What he blamed himself on was the fact he had accidentally let Riddle see it!

And now, he was here, in the Heartslabyul Lounge, textbooks as far as the eye can see (or really, only covering the table) and Riddle drilling lesson after lesson into his brain. He was sure that if he stayed there a second longer, his brain would quite literally melt.

He hated that Riddle was actually a really good tutor. This wasn’t Ace’s first time getting a tutoring session with the Housewarden, despite the other’s busy schedule. But.. he had to be in the mood to study, you know?

“Do you get it, Ace? This is important,” Riddle asked, causing another groan to pass through the freshman’s lips.

“Yes… but..” He said, knowing full well that he hadn't been listening to Riddle for the past five minutes. “Can’t we just take a small break?”

“Not when you haven’t been listening to me at all. Do you really think you’re deserving of a break?” Riddle narrowed his eyes, his arms crossed. Ace, on the other hand, averted his eyes after getting through his initial shock.

“So you noticed..”

“Of course I did.”

“I just can’t focus! It’s just one test. I’ll do better on the next one.” Ace shrugged, looking out the window. He could be doing other things right now. Should he just.. say he needs to go to the bathroom and just leave? No, it’s Riddle. He would wait until Ace got back and punish him. And no one wanted to be on the receiving end of Riddle’s punishments.

“But you didn’t do well on this one. Tell me, what will you do if this material shows up on the final exam?” Riddle questioned, doubtful.

“Eh..”

“Hehe, playing teacher?” A voice suddenly cut out, startling the two. Ace jerked his head over towards the source to see.. a floating head?!

“Ah! It’s you!” What was his name? Arte… Pinky..? Huh???

“Chenya,” Riddle sighed, then looked up, a glare directed at him, rather than Ace. “Stop using your signature spell to scare others.”

“Hehe.” Chenya winked, then the rest of his body appeared.

“Freaky…” Ace mumbled to himself, still recovering from his heart attack earlier. How did he get in here anyway? When did he get here?

“What are you doing here?” Riddle asked the RSA student.

“Can’t I just visit my friends~?” Chenya put his hands behind his head, casually.

Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m assuming you’ve already met with Trey then?”

“Nope,” Chenya started, popping the p. “I actually thought I was gonna see you two together. You two used to be like, attached at the hip.”

“We were not.” Riddle looked away.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatcha doing?” He said, half-walking, half-skipping over to the table. Sevens, him and Floyd would get along swimmingly— no pun intended.

“As you can see, I’m tutoring one of my freshmen. He got an unacceptable grade on his last test and I am going to ensure that doesn’t happen again,” Riddle explains, gesturing at the textbooks sprawled about on the table.

“Way to put all my business out there, Housewarden..” Ace muttered under his breath. Riddle pointedly ignored him.

“Looks like he’s been working hard. I heard him ask for a break! Why not give the little freshie one?”

“Little freshie?!” Ace can hardly be grateful for Chenya trying to convince the housewarden to give Ace a break when he’s called that! Still.. a break would be nice.

Riddle looks between the two, a hopeful glint in each of their eyes.

Then, he sighed. “Fine. I will permit silent reading for ten minutes,” He responded, at last, handing him an alchemy textbook.

“Eh?! That’s not a break at all!” Ace exclaimed, before he could help it. He withdrew slightly at the glare that Riddle sent him.

“Yeah. I mean, like, something away from studying. Come on, the Chenya is visiting, do you think I’d wanna watch you two studying?” Chenya whined, throwing his arms out. He seemed very.. mischievous. Clearly, this was not his first rodeo.

“And what do you suggest?” Riddle raised a brow.

“I know!” Chenya declared, like he had been waiting for it, then he set his sights on Ace. Ace startled when Chenya started walking towards him, getting closer and cupping his ear to whisper into it.

Ace lit up while Riddle grimaced. Ace looked at the housewarden, newfound fervor in his demeanor. Ace had a mission and he could tell Riddle was not looking forward to finding out what it was.

“What are you two scheming over there?” Riddle demanded and Chenya shook, like he forgot the other was there. Then, the same fervor was in his eyes.

“Get him!” Chenya shouted, suddenly, as if Ace were a soldier or a knight or… something. Still, Ace obliged, running to pounce Riddle. Riddle didn’t seem to stop him, even though he very well could have, so the freshman could tell that he was curious about where this was going to go.

Then, Ace wiggled his fingers on Riddle’s sides and Chenya joined in, tickling Riddle’s ribs and armpits.

“H-huh?! Unhahand me!”

“No way! You were right, he is ticklish!” Ace exclaimed, almost incredulously.

“Hehe, isn’t he?” Chenya giggled. And that’s when it seemed to click in Riddle’s mind that that’s what they were whispering about. Riddle bit his lip, trying to resist but it was all over before he even began.

“Lehehehet gohoho!” Riddle laughed, an unwilling blush rising to his cheeks. Ignoring all that Riddle was, he looked so.. cute and innocent here.

“Nuh uh! This is how I want to spend my break!” Ace started poking his fingers in between Riddle’s ribs, loudly and obnoxiously singing some classical music, like Riddle was a piano. He knew he would probably die later, but… it was worth it.

When he hit a particular sensitive spot on his ribs, Riddle actually snorted. Yep. Definitely worth it.

Chenya was squeezing Riddle’s thighs, lightly grazing the tops of his knees all the while.

“You twohohoho, stahahap!” Riddle cried, squirming and trying to grab his magic pen from his pocket. That is, until Ace started scratching at Riddle’s waist, grazing his sides just barely, but enough to drive him mad.

“No way! Not when I found out my housewarden is,” Ace started, teasingly. “…this ticklish~” He enunciated his words with a poke to his side, laughing at how Riddle jolted each time.

“Teehee, he is just as ticklish as he was when he was little! So cuteee!” Chenya cooed, his slender fingers exploring Riddle’s tummy and bellybutton.

“Shuhuhut uhuhup!” Riddle screeched, his face bright red and Ace wasn’t really sure whether it was from embarrassment or anger. Maybe both. Maybe this shouldn’t go on much longer, he thought, thinking back about the times Riddle had used his unique magic on him. Riddle was better about it now, but he definitely still had his limits.

“Seems like you’re having fun?” A voice called out of seemingly nowhere. All three heads jerked towards the sound, spotting Trey in the doorway.

“Trehehehey! Mahahahake theheheem stohop!” Riddle giggled, finally giving up on trying to break free as he looked at Trey who chuckled in response.

“Alright, don’t you guys think he’s had enough?” Trey asked, walking closer to them but never actually stopping. Ace looked at his house warden and backed away. Chenya got in a few more pokes in before he stopped, as well, deciding to jog over to Trey.

“Trey! Your best friend is here!” He exclaimed, pointing at himself and winking. A fond smile made its way onto Trey’s face and Ace offhandedly wonders about the history between the three.

It is almost silent for a few moments, save for Riddle exhaling slowly and deeply.

“I hope that made for a sufficient break.” Riddle glared at the two, but especially Ace. Likely for giving into Chenya’s whims, which.. fair, but shouldn’t he be more angry at Chenya who suggested tickling him in the first place?!

“It definitely did, Housewarden!” Ace admitted, pushing any fear of retaliation that he might’ve had, recalling the moments just now. If Riddle hadn’t collared him, he must be safe, right? And well, it’s Riddle. Riddle would never do something so petty like tickle him back.

“Whatever. Let’s just get back to learning. And there will be no breaks until we are finished,” The Housewarden declares, sitting up to pick up one of the textbooks on the table. However, he scooted closer towards Ace, so that they were more diagonal than across.

Ace decided not to think about it too much. That is, until Riddle began poking him in the side every time he lost focus or got an answer wrong.

He supposed that this was what he deserved, so he didn't say anything. At least pokes in the side were all it was…

He shivered at the thought of Riddle finding out about how embarrassingly ticklish he was, but he’ll save that for another day! Now, he just has to get through this tutoring session… Ughhhh…

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland tickle #twst tickling #ace trappola #chenya #riddle rosehearts #ticklish!riddle #lee!riddle #ler!ace #ler!chenya #tickling #tickle fic #jai’s fic

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theadventuresofalittlebug · 4 months

Note

Hiii can I ask what ur Hermitcraft headcannons areee

This ended up wayyyy longer than anticipated so here we go

This is a pretty open request so I’m just gonna list random headcanons. I’m also assuming you meant agere so thats what I’m going to do here.

Who I headcanon as a regressor kinda changes depending on what I’m writing, for example in my short fic Hanging Stars, Zed doesn’t know Tango regresses until s9, but I typically imagine they both regress and have known for a while.

I think Tango regresses from 3-5 normally, and at that age is quite active and excitable, he can’t sit still and prefers to run around rather than sit. The one exception is watching cartoons, he will be glued to the screen and can easily watch for hours, so he needs someone around to keep him from wasting the whole day staring at a screen. Occasionally though he will regress younger, more like 1-2, typically when he is tired. in that case he is more nervous and would rather sleep cuddled up with his caregivers than go on adventures.

As I covered in a different post (Here) Zed is a baby regressor, I already talked about it in that post.

In the context where most of the server is open about their regression I think Grian always builds a huge room in his base as a play room for the littles! It has tons of toys, a cozy blanket nest for naps, and a little kitchen always stocked with easy snacks!

In s7 Joe’s dog catcher business actually involved him putting a bunch of dog stuffies around the shopping district, after all of that he gave one to every hermit, little or not.

Grian has the biggest collection of stuffed animals ever seen. Most are birds, but he has many others including a toy sheriff from empires, a cod, several cats including a Jellie from Scar, a stuffed corgi from Joe, and a llama (Scar has a matching one)

Keralis is a flip I haven’t really thought about how he’d be when little, he is the best babysitter when hes big

He would always use cute nicknames with whoever hes caring for eg: baby, little one, some cute play on their name

Always making sure that his little is safe, constantly telling them to be careful so they don’t get hurt

Loves making his littles laugh, he makes lots of silly jokes, his favorite being to pretend he doesn’t know something suuuper obvious, so the little can tell him the answer while giggling at how silly he is

Grian loves trains when hes little, he has a play mat with super detailed roads and houses on it that he likes to play trains on.

Pearl’s favorite thing to do when little is play pretend, she isn’t super used to having a cg I think so she probably prefers to go on adventures and get into trouble with her stuffed animals!

I think Impulse is a cg for both Team ZITS and the Soup Group, Zed and Tango care for each other if they aren’t little themselves, as do Gem and Pearl

When Tango and Zed are both little Tango loves to be Zed’s big brother, but he’s frequently too loud for Zed and accidentally scares him, so Impulse always has to keep a close eye on him.

I think Joe and Etho both regress but its not super obvious when they do, as they are both older regressors (Joe 8-9, Etho 12-13). The main signs that Joe is little is that he doesn’t use as complex of vocabulary, and he is more energetic. Etho spends most of his time alone when he’s regressed, typically either drawing or watching anime and reading manga or comics.

also thank you so much for asking! I love talking about my agere hcs sooo much!

#hermitcraft agere #sfw agere

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n7punk · 9 months

Text

“Children of the Crystal” Fic Notes Season Two

Children of the Crystal is “officially” done! I still might go back and add short (non-plot) fics set in this verse further down the line, but the story is all wrapped up at a monster 14 (15) fics.

I split the fic notes into two “seasons” just because there’s a lot to cover, so the other post has notes for the first 6 fics. This one has the playlist, the notes for the rest of the fics, and discussion of the original outline/plan. This fic series doesn’t get an “epilogue” section because I’m keeping all those ideas in my back pocket in case I end up doing fics on them.

Playlist:

Haha so. This series had a playlist that was originally like seven songs long. Then I couldn’t sleep one day, and suddenly this story had a plot(??) and the playlist exploded. I’ll cover the plot thing later, but here’s the finished playlist (I also listened to my canon Catra, Adora, and Catradora playlists while writing this).

Just Friends — Morgan Saint

Illusion — Carlie Hanson

WASTE OF CONFETTI — Meg Myers

S.T.A.R. — Mothica

hallelujah — Bea Miller

For God’s Sake — Morgan Saint

Highlights — Mothica

Crazy Bitch — Sizzy Rocket feat. Mothica

feel like shit — Tate McRae

Once More, With Feeling! — XANA

Battle demo [not released to the public. Listen, the vibe is “I don’t want to fight you, but if that’s what you’re going to do, then let’s go”]

Jealousy — Pale Waves

i did this all for you! — XANA

Two Sides — Ari Hicks (this one is for Light Hope, because I think I’m funny)

I Don’t Believe In Anything — Deathbyromy (THIS IS SUCH AN ADORA SONG OK)

I’m Trying (Not Friends) — Maisie Peters (aka the fic 13 song)

Only Love [Acoustic] — PVRIS

General Notes:

⦁ For the ease of future rereads, the big plot heavy-hitter fics are (generally) every other fic: 1, 3, 5, maybe 7, 8, 10, 12, maybe 13, and 14. I was intentionally spacing them out (as best I could) so there would be a plot beat, then something that fleshed out the universe/characters, then another plot beat, but that wasn’t always the best thing for the series so there’s exceptions.

⦁ Several of the fic titles from this series are inspired/from lyrics from a couple of songs. They are as follows: The “Crystal Kingdom” song from The Adventure Zone led to the fic titles “Beckoning to Break the Seal,” “Locked in a Cage of Glass and Steel,” and “This Is Where Separation Ends.” I listened to that way back in the day and that song stuck with me for some reason. I thought about it again after naming the fic Children of the Crystal cuz. you know. Crystal. i did this all for you! by XANA is the origin of “Carve Your Name in My Bones.” Full lyric: [in my brain] I love what you’ve done with the place/really made it your own/carved your name in my bones. “I’d Die Just to Be Someone” is a lyric from Crazy Bitch by Sizzy Rocket (feat. Mothica). (Side note: can anyone tell me if Sizzy Rocket is a terf? One of the people she has a feature track with has a sus line) The fic and chapter titles of “One of Us Has to Keep a Promise” come from I’m Trying (Not Friends) by Maisie Peters. These are the only chapter titles in the entire series not in title case. More info on songs and lyrics later >.> Finally, “Once More, With Feeling” is a XANA song (on the playlist, too) that’s actually not happy but the title was a great fit for them returning home and falling back into their relationship with a lot more peace and happiness between them.

Locked in a Cage of Glass and Steel

Chapter 1:

⦁ God the ENTIRE series was leading up to this fic. I wrote it all in one sitting. Actually, I wrote the final chapter of Halls That Make a Home, all of this fic, and all but the last two scenes of Carve Your Name in My Bones in the same day. I wrote 12.7k words that day, my highest single-day word count ever (my previous being 12.1k, which was insane and not at all usual. My average word count is 2k a day).

⦁ I guess I leave it a little ambiguous (mostly because other people lie about it), but what happened with Entrapta was that Scorpia had bonded HARD with her, so when Shadow Weaver attacked Entrapta to stop her from trying to free the captured princesses, Scorpia turned on the Horde. She can’t exactly feel for a pulse with her pincers, though, and she thought Entrapta was dead. She then freed the rest of the princesses, and when they went to recover the sword, Shadow Weaver had roused to tell Hordak that Scorpia took the side of the princesses, bonded with the garnet, and killed Entrapta in the process. He didn’t believe her, but then Scorpia showed up leading the charge of princesses into his sanctum, crackling with electricity. So he pulled the lever.

Chapter 2:

⦁ I talked about this a little in the first author’s note, but figuring out the set-up of the portal is… interesting. I think the wider fandom has kind of agreed it has something to do with who pulls the lever? Like the portal was built around Catra’s wishes? Which makes sense, IG, but it could easily be a collective thing, or just a weird mindfuck, or Adora could have some control over it too because it’s her sword powering it. Personally I think it’s a mix of all of that, but for this fic I went with the idea that it’s the person who pulls the lever, because in canon I find the angst of Catra’s “perfect world” being one where Catra is still just “second best” but it doesn’t matter to her anymore because Adora is there absolutely delicious.

⦁ In the show, the Portal was kind of “an easy sell” because Adora did know a life in the Horde, and all the Bright Moon stuff was just a recent divergence. Everybody was pretty much “with their own” in the portal, Bow in Bright Moon, Catra and Adora in the Horde, etc. In this portal, a bunch of the princesses were locked up in the Fright Zone (because they… were in the Fright Zone IRL when it was set off) and Catra and Adora found themselves transposed into this foreign world so everything would be simple for Hordak and his greatest nemesis were now working for them. The portal bridged that gap by co-opting their memories. Instead of running and playing in the woods, they were fighting rebels in them. They remembered how fighting felt from when they would fight the Horde, but when they were actually forced to fight rebels in the portal, it all felt completely wrong. The other way the portal tried to form its perfect world was by giving Adora what she always wanted: freedom from duty. She wasn’t She-ra and there was no magic destiny to weigh down on her shoulders. As much as she will deny it and doesn’t even believe it, that’s what she wants. She wants to just be able to live her life and be useful, yes, but not have the weight of the planet on her.

Chapter 3:

⦁ Before I even started posting this series, I posted “sorry” because I had just outlined this wallowing scene and Catra deciding to go to the Horde. Obviously I’ve written breakups, self-loathing, etc in the past, but I felt like I was really lulling y’all into a false sense of security with this AU. It doubly applied since I had already outlined the AU’s end, too.

⦁ Because that was such an early outline, though, in that outline scene Catra discovered for the first time that Light Hope could appear in the room they thought was private. I ended up including that earlier in the series, because it’s not much of a reveal if you don’t already know that she’s not supposed to be able to do that and I thought her having the realization when they weren’t together yet but had said some Things in the privacy of the room worked better.

⦁ Btw, Light Hope did “usually” try to leave them alone in the room, especially when they were kids and her overwrite instructions hadn’t been fully installed by a reset, but she absolutely was intending to lie to them when she said she couldn’t listen to that room. It was not a misunderstanding. Those happened sometimes, but a lot of “misunderstandings” were intentional.

⦁ I considered giving Catra a breakdown haircut in this because those are fun, and by “considered” I mean I did and then I read the scene I just wrote and went. This is scary. Like I actually felt I couldn’t include it without a significant trigger warning and what the hell even is that trigger aside from Bitch Not Well so I cut it.

⦁ I had a whole freak out with the end of this fic and whether or not it made sense. Basically, I wrote the first scene of On Stumbling Feet way before this. A consequence of that (and how long-held my headcanon for Halfmoon is) is that I just completely fucking forgot whether Halfmoon running under the Fright Zone was established. I tried to put in more hints to it in the scene itself (stuff like the mentions of their last entrance being patched up) and went back to the fic where Catra calls herself the last of the magicats to edit in more context for future reads, only to find I already outright said there that Halfmoon was near the Fright Zone. I edited the wording slightly to make it more clear it was under, but I mostly panicked for nothing.

Carve Your Name in My Bones [one shot]

⦁ I’ve talked a couple of times about this AU being where I was able to finally put my backstory headcanons for them, but they did have to be tweaked to accommodate the story. For Catra, I imagine she was just scooped off Halfmoon’s street at a battle like this and brought back to the Fright Zone. Halfmoon being the mine beneath the Fright Zone is my headcanon, but not it being connected to the Crystal Castle or anything. I did that mostly to get around 1) Light Hope would have had the foyer door locked when Adora was that age so she couldn’t get out at all to help Catra if there wasn’t another way since that blocks off the override too and 2) to force Catra back through castle when leaving the Fright Zone. The original outline called for her trying to “confront” Light Hope, which I feel would be justified considering she had emotional ties to her just like Adora in this AU, but it would be pretty dangerous and a little stupid, so making it just be something she was forced to do made more sense.

⦁ Rescuing Catra was the first time Adora had left the castle since she was a baby. Feeling the surface of the rock was really shocking to her after being used to the perfectly smooth surfaces of the castle, only broken up by the texture of her bed and clothes. Everything else is metal or crystal. Catra introduces something as simple as touch to her life, that’s how incredibly isolated she was.

⦁ Catra’s parents in this are the same ones I made up for her in TTFT, Leona and Felina. Only one of them is actually her biological parent (magic inception, common for gay couples on Etheria) so Leona has Catra’s heterochromia this time to pass it down.

I’d Die Just to Be Someone

Chapter 1:

⦁ Shadow Weaver was willing to believe Catra’s story pretty easily given she defected to the Horde for similarly petty reasons, but willing is different from believing and she knew there was a chance it was a ploy, or she could be flipped again, which is why she went in hard on her immediately. Shadow Weaver was also dying and losing her shit anyway.

⦁ Hordak growling and Catra commenting (internally) on it was because he’s an alien clone and like, reminiscent of an elf, sure, but actually has his own rules to play by.

⦁ The story Shadow Weaver told Hordak was that Scorpia turned on them and let the princesses in because she wanted to take her powers, and when she did she electrocuted Entrapta (it was implied to not be an accident). It’s kind of a ridiculous sell if you know anything about Scorpia, but Hordak barely knew her name, and when he saw her using lightning powers and fighting alongside the princesses, it checked out, especially with her leaving afterwards.

⦁ Shadow Weaver was desperately trying to either 1) break Scorpia’s connection with the Garnet so she could begin using it again or 2) find a way to siphon energy off of it with Scorpia still connected to it. If Catra hadn’t shown up, she probably would have gathered herself up after her collapse and tried to slip away to Rebellion and trade “insider intel” in exchange for healing, but with Catra calling a medic, and them taking her under observation, she never had a chance. And… yeah, she wasn’t looking good and we don’t see her again. Read into that! (If you are interested, though, her story would have been that she worked with the Horde out of fear for her life as she needed the Black Garnet to live, trying to gain an ounce of sympathy, and then she would have tried to trade Entrapta’s location for healing. To them she would have said Hordak sent Entrapta to Beast Island when he heard of her treachery.)

⦁ Grizzlor gets to take over Shadow Weaver’s job because in the original show he was the… warden? Boss? BGIC? of the Beast Island prison. It was either him, Octavia, or Lonnie in this version, but I didn’t have room to throw in Lonnie being promoted to Force Captain in Scorpia’s place (though it definitely happened) and it feels like Octavia isn’t very respected considering the eye thing and that she still sleeps with the cadets.

Chapter 2:

⦁ When Catra mentions trying to line up to whisper in Adora’s ear during the fight, I wanted to leave it ambiguous if she was trying to gloat, but she was actually looking for any opening to tell the Princess Alliance that Entrapta was alive. She was always on missions with other people and the least trusted person on the squad, though, so she couldn’t even try to work it into a “taunt” to pass off because it wasn’t common knowledge and would give away that she was sneaking around.

⦁ Catra’s recognition of the hex-sided screwdriver is because she did spend enough — friendly — time around Entrapta in this universe to pick that kind of thing up.

⦁ When Catra says she “hasn’t managed to do anything about” the transport log, she means both that she hasn’t figured out where Entrapta was sent and she hasn’t managed to tell the Alliance she was live at all.

Chapter 3: Interlude

⦁ This wasn’t supposed to be here but I was thinking about how Adora must be feeling and then I was like maybe I have to write a one shot about this…. So I just stuck it in as an interlude.

⦁ Let’s! Talk! About! The Alliance! Okay, so like, Catra is right, they really should have known better that she wouldn’t go join up with the people who just murdered her friend and kinda-pseudo parental figure, but there’s a reason they “accepted” her defection. First of all, they were already annoyed with her for disappearing (though everyone was equally, if not more, annoyed with Adora for being a fucking idiot). Being mad at someone makes it a lot easier to believe the worst of them. Second, they had already experienced Entrapta’s defection, which was feeling more and more like a true defection as Scorpia told stories about her in the Horde, even though it was a kind of halfway thing for her. Third, Adora and Catra were really codependent, like ridiculously unhealthily so, but it had never been something they needed to work on when Catra and Adora were “doing fine” and there was a war on. When Adora broke her heart, it was possible Catra totally snapped because neither of them knew how to be a person — or even what a person really was — without each other. Four, several of them had picked up the vibe that Catra had some bitterness over Adora’s magic destiny from comments she made over time. And like, they weren’t wrong, that is what spurred her to go to the Horde, she just wasn’t joining them. And then five, of course: they were fighting her and watching her not respond to their attempts to talk. No matter what you believe, when you have enough evidence in front of you, eventually you have to give. None of that should erase the fact they knew Catra was a good person, and especially that she should want to destroy the Horde more than ever at that moment rather than joining up since they had just killed her friend, but just like they shouldn’t be too mad at her, Catra can’t be too mad at them when she didn’t tell anyone. Them believing someone they know is a good person would do Very Bad Things is kind of a commentary on how sometimes they struggle to be good friends, like how they get annoyed with Entrapta and both sides have to learn how to accommodate each other in the show.

⦁ Adora not walking all the way into the entry and leaving immediately kind of saved the planet here. With her first visit, it was quick and she got further into the castle, but Light Hope was willing to wait until a second visit before she went as drastic as locking her in, because it was going to be pretty hard to talk her into setting the Heart off at that point. This time, Adora didn’t get past the large door that could seal the main chamber from the entry walkway (the door that was closed when she and Catra were little, and that Catra squeezed through in The Start of a Legend). Light Hope technically could override the outside door, but she wasn’t prepared to do that, especially when she couldn’t do anything about the override door Adora could easily slip through. Honestly, she anticipated Adora’s breakdown taking longer and being able to use her fragile emotional state to manipulate her, but instead Adora fucking booked it away from the terrible memories and guilt.

⦁ It wasn’t fair, but one of the reason’s Glimmer was mad at Adora was for everything Catra did while defecting. They were friends, after all, and Adora breaking up with her is what drove her away, so even though Glimmer was already mad at Adora for the shitty breakup, she was also mad at them both for every shitty thing Catra did while defected because they shared the blame to her. It was more aimed at Catra since she was the one, you know, doing it, but Glimmer has a proxy-blaming problem (see: her partially blaming Adora for her mom’s death) so she was mad at them both.

Chapter 4:

⦁ Shadow Weaver “limping off to die” was actually her trying to sneak off to the Rebellion for survival.

⦁ The dent on Emily’s hull is this-universe’s version of the scratches. Emily tried to go into Hordak’s lab trying to find Entrapta after she “died” and Hordak grew enraged at the sight of her as a reminder. He threw the closest object at her and made the dent. She skittered away still not knowing what happened to Entrapta, but she picked it up soon after.

⦁ Emily has seen Catra before, back in that single battle where Entrapta got captured, but she’s dressed differently and on the other side, and it was possible there were multiple people named Catra, so she wanted to “verify” by showing Catra the projection.

⦁ I (Catra) shifted over the course of the chapter from calling Emily “it” to “she” to show how Catra was bonding with her. Using feminine pronouns for her did make it more confusing (which “she” is this she referring to, etc), but Catra really needed something to latch onto, so anthropomorphizing Emily hit hard.

⦁ I fucked up here. I came up with a cool idea literally the day after posting the chapter. Catra should have tried to take some of the files on the Heart so the Horde doesn’t find them, get caught sneaking out, and have to choose between keeping them or helping Emily to safety. She would choose Emily, ensuring the files fell into Horde hands and leaving her certain that Hordak — and thus Horde Prime — knows about the Heart when he arrives. Unfortunately, I only came up with that while writing fic 13. It’s a causality of posting as you write, even though I was ahead.

On Stumbling Feet (Find Your Home) [one shot]

⦁ Because this fic takes place before the last few, Catra is still under the mistaken impression that fire played a big part in Halfmoon’s downfall. The problem with this series is a lot of people are lying or just straight up wrong and so they contradict each other or even themselves a lot and I worry it looks sloppy when it’s intentional, just kind of misleading. I actually wrote the Halfmoon report scene before I even wrote the get together fic and wasn’t sure where I was going to stick it but had the idea for a “catch all” snippets fic possibly in the future.

⦁ Adora’s language around “manifesting” is because it’s one of those words/concepts that are new to her, since that scene is set fairly early on, like a few months in.

⦁ Adora saying “She’s going to need to hold onto these moments for the future.” just really goes to show that she can’t even let herself have good moments purely for the sake of them, but rather has to categorize how they could be useful to justify them. This girl needs therapy so bad.

⦁ The make out scene basically exists to tease Adora’s access to her powers without the sword. Obviously, canon shows her powers predate the sword, but with her runestone trapped. Originally the idea was that it would be a little one shot, but then it was brief enough of an idea to use in something like this. I ended up giving a “preview” to this kind of thing with her glowing eyes in the library fic, but she still had the sword (literally) on her then, so this showed that “disconnect” for the first time. Otherwise, this fic would be the kind of filler/fluff I would stick at the end of the series as “not part of the plot arc,” but that particular scene needed to be read before fic 14, so it ended up in the main arc. A little fluff was also desperately needed here.

⦁ The make out predates the scene in the library with her eyes glowing, but Adora still called that new because it had never been tied to anger before, and she didn’t fully understood what her eyes were doing in this scene. What she caught in the mirror was just them being extra blue.

A Thousand Years in the Making

Chapter 1:

⦁ The “true colors” in the fic description do refer to how Light Hope turns on them, but also to how she really does love them and wants to protect them from her own programming.

⦁ “The failsafe would kill the user” and Catra’s resulting “Wait.” reaction were actually because Light Hope was — in the only way she could — trying to help. She was informing Catra both of the risks and that it would work by explicitly not saying that it wouldn’t, since that’s the most logical way to dissuade its use.

Chapter 2:

⦁ The language Adora uses to describe the moving of Etheria in the library fic was carefully chosen to conflict but in a believable way with what Light Hope says here. Adora says “Mara made Light Hope move the planet,” which is what her impression of the situation was, in the sense that Mara ordered it, but what Light Hope actually says here was that Mara forced her hand and made her move the planet for everyone’s safety. Of course, that’s a total lie and Mara moved the planet without Light Hope’s consent, but it was part of the narrative needed to reach Light Hope’s goal of getting Etheria back where it should be so they can set the bomb off.

⦁ In the show what (kinda) breaks through to Light Hope is Adora mentioning Mara, which is a really cool moment I fucking love and was sad to strip away, but in this one it just made more sense for Adora to use their own bond since they had a deep one and she never discovered a lot about Mara without the signal tower.

Chapter 3:

⦁ This was the one and only time that Catra ever referred to Light Hope in a maternal way. She doesn’t really see her like that but she also… doesn’t… not see her like that, you know? Light Hope was her guardian, not her mom, but especially with the wound of Glimmer losing her mom recently, that’s what spilled out.

One of Us Has to Keep a Promise

Chapter 1:

⦁ I vagueposted lyrics from the song “I’m Trying (Not Friends)” when I was thinking obsessively about Catra’s “betrayal” twist and then untwist. The chorus really works for the clusterfuck that their relationship becomes and those two lyrics in particular were feeding my brainrot so hard I could not shut up. The urge to drop songs on the playlist that were massive spoilers and hinted at what was to come was so hard to fight. At one point I almost just posted “CotC spoilers: there’s XANA on the fic playlist” because like. if you know XANA’s music that is a spoiler. She has very few happy or wholesome songs. Most of them are breakup songs or intense shit that still implies a hot and heavy relationship like Catra and Adora don’t appear to have in this series. I was going absolutely nuts keeping all this to myself and knowing for about 7~ fics everything was going to look Fine and then it was getting insane. I then vagueposted again with lyrics from “Crazy Bitch” later thinking about Catra’s “betrayal” because this fic had a vice grip on my brain. For a while I was writing like 4-6k every other day with 1-2k in between and it still wasn’t enough to get it out.

Chapter 2:

⦁ The reason Prime hit the surface so hard and then pulled back was because he was planning on wiping out the planet and all its residents completely to cover up Hordak’s messy rebellion (as he says in the show before Catra interrupts his plan by telling him about the Heart, so he’ll spare Etheria), but he pulled back as speculated when he became aware of the Heart and its potential uses.

⦁ The position they’re sitting in while discussing their relationship in Catra’s tent is a mirror of the one they sat in while listening to music right after they came together as kids back in Carve Your Name in My Bones.

⦁ “She wants to ask Adora if she’s sure she loved her the way that Catra loved her, but while she can walk into the Horde ready to face any danger, she’s still a fucking coward when it comes to things that matter.” Yeah so Catra is saying her life matters less to her than whether or not Adora loved her here. Which is totally healthy and normal and she for sure doesn’t need therapy.

⦁ Catra eating the bread instead of throwing it back like she normally would have done is a result of both her imprisonment and her few weeks on the run/digging through Halfmoon. She’s also aware they’re running on rations and would probably be more conscientious even if she wasn’t painfully aware how important real food is at the moment.

Chapter 3:

⦁ Glimmer is basically bribing/guilting them BOTH to stay in camp using each other, because really they both need to recover, and everybody needs to fall into sync again before going out in the field together.

This is What Separation Ends

Chapter 1:

⦁ The title here has so many different implications. As I said earlier, it’s a lyric from Crystal Kingdom, but it pulls triple duty. It’s “separation” (being broken up) ending between Adora and Catra, it’s separation between Adora and She-ra ending with the breaking of the sword, and it’s separation between wider worlds ending as Horde Prime is defeated and they’re all finally free.

⦁ This first chapter was actually all stuff that was supposed to happen in One of Us Has to Keep a Promise. Then I was just… too into the whole breakup/deflection/come back together concept and the fic ended up expanding a lot from the initial concept of “quick slice of awkwardness with them on the same side again now it’s all hands on deck fighting the Horde” (exact quote from my outline doc). Yeah more was needed by the time we got there and I wanted to write more anyway lol.

⦁ Their time going back to be alone in the tent… Man, even I don’t know what they did in there LOL. I will say I did consider having them have an implied “end of the world, plus weeks of tension with their relationship” hook up, but them just cuddling and being needy also makes sense. Making out like they did in the last fic makes sense. They definitely kissed at least once in that tent, but the rest I wouldn’t be able to say definitively without actually writing it and feeling it out.

⦁ Okay, in Castaspella’s defense, Catra was very convincing, and Casta let Shadow Weaver of all people lead her off alone without telling anyone so I think this is in character for her lol. Catra basically went “yep, Adora was 100% dead and She-ra brought her back to life in the Heart, so she can heal someone else when they use the failsafe, but we don’t know if the failsafe will destroy She-ra if she did it herself, and we can’t risk that.” In this verse, they’re very aware that only a First One can be She-ra and they’re fucked without Adora. That, combined with some guilt-tripping and the valid point that they need a tiny strike team if they’re going to have any chance of infiltrating Mystacor (and that either Castaspella or Micah has to be on said team if they’re going to have a chance), convinced Castaspella to go. Catra said she would leave the message with Emily to deliver a few hours after they left to ensure they got in and out before the Alliance could catch up and ruin the plan by immediately getting caught (because let’s be real, that’s what would happen). The Mystacor infiltration was way more high stakes with a lot higher chance of failure without Melog by their side to camouflage them, so this was riiiiisky, but they didn’t have a lot of options.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Adora’s powers didn’t exactly get an upgrade post-alignment, but her perception of She-ra did, and that allowed her tap deeper into her, which is what led to stuff like the shooting blast, especially on complete accident.

⦁ So I did (briefly) consider having Catra get chipped here and Prime commanding her to walk off the cliff instead of the stabbing. TBH, I just wanted to do my own thing without retreading so much ground from the show (which was kind of my whole philosophy when it came to this AU) and there wasn’t much point to it anyway since Catra would be chipped and unchipped within hours. It seemed far more logical to me that Prime would just kill her, keeping her alive only long enough to utilize her to get the sword. He wasn’t going to risk keeping the failsafe (Catra) alive long enough to really go through her memories, so chipping her didn’t have much use, and leaving her unchipped seemed like more effective blackmail (because who would want back their loved one when they know they’re indoctrinated? Somebody who understands love, you idiot).

⦁ In the initial outline of this chapter that I did a month and a half ago (lol), Prime didn’t stab her, instead just throwing her off the cliff. But. I mean. The drama. I had to go with stabbing. The fact he was doing it with Adora’s sword, which is supposed to be the home to a goddess of healing and protection but has been perverted and turned into a destructive weapon waiting to end the world, was just too poetic.

⦁ Okay okay okay. The sword-shattering thing. I have written that into two AUs now. The first one was an idea I came up with in October 2020 and was definitely destined to just be one of those “talk about it with your friends in Discord and never actually write” AUs, and then again into… well one that didn’t end up happening. Then this AU came around and I realized I could finally use the idea. In each iteration of it, the circumstance was entirely different and the reason why the sword had to break was a little different too (Adora needing healing beyond the sword’s capabilities and She-ra’s power surging into her; being too far away from it to save the world; and needing to heal Catra leading to agony surging her power past the sword’s breaking point), so it always felt fresh and exciting while also being something that I was excited to finally incorporate because the drama. I was refreshing my inbox all day after posting this chapter because I love the end of it so much and I wanted to see people’s reactions.

⦁ Okay but what are the mechanics of it, I hear you not asking. Well, I’ll tell you. So one, my headcanon is that the sword was forged using the Heart for realsies, not just in this AU. Like I said, I was able to shove a lot of my headcanons into this AU because it was actually reasonable for them to have discovered that stuff in this ‘verse. Anyway, She-ra’s runestone was as old as the other runestones and used to work like them too where she just had to be magically connected to it, not physically, to use her powers, but it was placed in the sword’s hilt so the sword could “impose order” on She-ra. Basically, the Sword of Protection was supposed to keep her locked as a First One and give her a “weakness” in the form of making her tied to a physical object. If She-ra becomes a problem, just take the sword away and she’s gone. The sword is old, though, and She-ra’s magic is very powerful. Adora has been in a lot of tight spots before, but none of them as devastating as this, and her connection with She-ra is strong now. If Catra had died the same day that Adora got the sword, it probably wouldn’t have worked like this, but between knowing the sword is just an object now and the strength of her powers, she could reach for She-ra’s runestone even with it locked inside the sword. When she grabbed that connection is when the magic started manifesting around her, but she still couldn’t transform with the sword around it despite trying and trying. So She-ra broke the lock.

⦁ Oh yeah, what actually happened when Adora was going a little insane. As soon as Catra fell, her friends started fighting and the clones that had parted for Adora rushed her. They made the mistake of trying to hold her down and pull her away from Catra, though. That’s when her eyes started glowing. As she internally spiraled and fought against the hands, she started to glow, and the power began to swirl around her. Pretty quickly, some clones were forced to let go, and others were knocked away. The remaining ones were knocked flat when she went full power-aura a la Save The Cat, and then she screamed, it did actually cause a minor local earthquake, and then she transformed.

Chapter 3:

⦁ Remember She-ra’s earthquake powers? Because Adora certainly doesn’t seem to with how little she uses them in the show LOL. Okay, but that feeds into my “full power She-ra” thing. In episode two where Adora does that, she’s kind of… overtaken by the avatar of She-ra. She’s almost mechanical in movement, she’s absolutely glowing with power like a beacon… you know, the stuff she was doing here. She-ra definitely has a deeper power that Adora can tap into at times, and that’s what she did here when she broke the sword. Prime was dealing with She-ra like he had never seen her before and the world had never seen her since before Mara.

⦁ In the initial version of this, Etheria started surging up to meet her and those cracks in the earth started pouring magic, but I changed it because that’s more related to my post-Heart headcanons then pre-Heart and I just don’t think it would work like that.

⦁ The outline of this scene included Adora bringing Catra up to the top of the cliff and then putting her down to fight Prime, but that was… a bad idea, so I had Adora put her down on the ground. I considered having the grass grow under Catra as a part of She-ra’s “life” powers (another headcanon), but that felt too close to Perfuma’s powers, and Perfuma was literally there, so I just had Perfuma do it and she made the protective tangle while she was at it.

⦁ I’m not entirely sure that the ending I wrote here is possible. Let me explain. My interpretation of Prime’s hivemind and body jumping is that he basically can’t be killed because, like Corypheas (to everybody who just cringed internally, I salute you, we did time in the trenches together), he always moves to the next body when his current one is damaged. Thus, you have to disable the entire hivemind before you can trap his current body and kill him off in that. That means that in this canon, Adora can’t kill him off yet because she hasn’t yet destroyed the mothership, but I went with the logic that once she has started that… magic purge thing she does, he can’t move, and without him in the system imposing order on it, the hivemind becomes a thousand discordant voices that don’t even know how to speak on their own, essentially debilitating them until the mothership is destroyed and they all become individuals. The clones do calm down, but right now they can barely think and are prone to lashing out.

⦁ I forgot not everyone is as insane about this show as I am when someone brought up the failsafe in the comments, so I’ll clarify here: the First Ones alphabet is phonetic. A reading/writing guide was uploaded to the show/Dreamworks’ social medias with all the details, but basically the failsafe/word Heart from the show is formed from a base word bar with two decorative elements sticking out of the top on both ends to form the top of the heart. The language is read right to left, so the outlines for the bottom half of the heart are made from the sounds/letters H and R on the right, and T on the left. So when Adora says she has H and R, she means she quite literally has one half of the heart, while Catra has the other containing the T, like one of those half-heart best friend necklaces totally not baby-lesbians get with each other.

⦁ The Hearrrrrrrrrrtttt sceneeeeee god okay. Man I really like this fic can you tell XD Them intertwining in the Heart is something that can be So Personal- OKAY I swear I’ll stop memeing now. The intertwining thing was born of them needing to share the failsafe for Catra to survive it (initial outline just called for Adora “taking” it from Catra via She-ra and the healing magic, I changed that and it’s way better this way) but then I absolutely loved what it led to. It also really helps resolve a lot of their personal issues to see each other, stripped and honest and incapable of hiding. Adora can feel how Catra truly, truly doesn’t need her to be useful to love her, and Catra can feel how Adora loves her even when she doesn’t show it how Catra needs, not to mention how her friends in general love her and think about her when she isn’t there. All of these are things they realize over the periods of weeks and months and years post-canon, but they got to kind of speedrun that process here. And also it’s just so fucking yuri I had to do it.

⦁ In the finale of the show, someone on crew (pretty sure it was ND) said the original idea was for the burst of magic to shoot up and destroy the mothership, but someone on crew (and I know he named and credited them, I just can’t remember who right now) came up with the idea for it to be overtaken by that tangle of plant life instead to reclaim it, and he thought that was a better idea. And I don’t disagree with that. But in this one they went with that first option and just blasted him out of the sky lol.

Once More, With Feeling [one shot]

⦁ These two dumbasses blush when talking/thinking about the Heart for so long, half the Princess Alliance is convinced they had victory sex down there or something, but no, they’re just so fucking gay.

⦁ It's... kind of a headcanon? For my own fic? But they do end up going out to explore space with the help from some reformed clones (when it comes to spaceship building/repair and intergalactic navigation) at some point after the war and eventually come across Krytis, because I can't leave Melog there forever.

⦁ I have a list of some more ideas for this universe, so I will return at some point, but I need a break. I had SO much fun with this fic, it was absolutely wild, but it was also a long ride and my creativity needs a bit of a rest or I might burn out.

Original Outline:

Originally this series wasn’t supposed to have plot and I had disclaimers about that. Okay, there was supposed to be some plot (Fics 1 & 3, the breakup, and the finale fic) but there was very little aside from that. Even the finale fic, I didn’t have context for how that happened, it was just “confrontation with Horde Prime looked different since Catra never got captured since she was never with the Horde.”

Never with the Horde. Yeah.

So. When I was first planning this series, I only briefly considered the possibility of not breaking them up, because in this AU they’re extremely codependent and it’s not healthy. They absolutely needed to learn to function independently of each other, and I love angst. However, the initial idea was just that they would break up and Catra would run away to the Whispering Woods, having her own adventures, getting caught up in shit but luckily never any missions with Adora.

Then I went to sleep (while writing the first fic, I think, but maybe just planning), and by the time I got up the next morning I had written the entirety of the deflection fic (that’s what I called I’d Die Just to Be Someone for a while) in my head. I sat down in front of my rough timeline for the series that acted as an outline and went “‘kay how do I mess this up because this idea is so angsty I can’t not.” I mean I did consider not, I outlined like three or four different back halves of the fic using the deflection and not, but in the end I hammered out my best version of them with the deflection in place.

Having such an arc determined for the series really changed the way I thought about it in that it needed to have structure now rather than doing whatever I wanted like before, but I kept the nonlinear nature of the series like I first planned.

When I constructed the arc, it had an overall pretty simple structure with 1 plot forwarding fic followed by one character/world building or backstory/fluff fic, repeat 5/6 times. This changed almost immediately because I kept having ideas for new insert fics. Maze (Literal, Metaphorical), Girls Talk, and Halls That Make a Home were not in the original list of ideas, and HTMaH was just supposed to be a filler fic once inserted but ended up somewhere halfway between that and plot since it brings up the Entrapta thing before we hit the portal and is where Adora reveals her backstory.

The fact I kept wanting to move around fics didn’t help. The first 3 fics were as planned, the forth fic was supposed to be “something in the Rebellion,” which I suppose it is, only the ideas that were supposed to go there ended up being in the 11th fic in the series. Then the 5th was as planned, 6th and 7th were come up with while writing the series (the single fic that was supposed to take their place ended up as a scene in the 11th fic), and 8, 9, and 10 were as planned. 11 kind of fluctuated but was originally the library fic before that got moved earlier (because I really wanted to write it and it was a good way to introduce the Entrapta thing). 12, 13, and 14 were all as planned again, though.

BTW, when I say “as planned,” I mean the fic topic was as planned. Some of them still saw changes within that fic, but most of them were just a few sentences of summary so there was plenty of room to grow.

Also… let’s talk about those other endings. Because I ended up with two “main” versions once the deflection was planned, so there was a second version of the ending I was toying with up until the point of no return (fic 8). The other version of the end was that Scorpia never connected with the Garnet, but they discovered the Heart, and Light Hope was forced to try to activate it. Without the Garnet connected, it couldn’t go through, but it started enough for Prime to pick up signals and he (at least kind of) realized what Etheria’s deal was. This was the first way I explained the sword being kept intact (though Catra did still help Adora out).

What did this result in? Well, Prime figured out the temporal thing and started sending clones back in time to fight Etheria. This led to a much different looking war, with clones at first supplementing the Horde’s ranks, and then overthrowing Hordak when they realized what was up and marching on everybody. Once sent back in time, however, they were cut off from the hivemind and it was a disorganized mess, so Prime himself eventually realized that was the problem after sending waves and waves of clones back in time and went back himself. The stand off happened pretty similarly, Adora purified him and freed all the clones in their time, and then they used the Heart to move Etheria into the wider world, scattering the army in the process.

Honestly, there’s just a lot of logistical problems with this version of the end, and maybe I could have hammered them out and changed things around, but I liked the version I used better because it was just simpler and I feel like all that timetravel and different-looking war stuff would have gotten convulted and muddied the story pretty quickly. As much as I liked the idea of going in on my time travel headcanon, it was just too much. It would have necessitated at least two more fics that I don’t think would have been that interesting. I love how this series came out, so I think I made the right call there, lol. The only loss was that “This is Where Separation Ends” doesn’t also represent Etheria moving into the universe anymore since that already happened two fics ago, but it’s still the effective joining with the universe since Prime’s army was cutting them off, so good enough lol.

Meta:

Season One Fic Notes

Catra’s clothes (Wild, Weird)

Series Directory/Share Links

Upcoming:

I’m torn between two projects right now, so I’m not sure yet, but it’ll be a short multi-chapter fic either way so it will probably start in the next couple days

#cotc #fic notes #ficmeta #HOO BOY #okay we're here we're done XD #for those curious. the fic notes are 8k.#hlep me im unwell #im so sorry i posted this without the read more at first lmao #fixed it #sorry about your dashes

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skepticalfrogcat · 4 months

Text

Well, I said I'd do it and now I have. Welcome to my Blades fic writing debut. I was particularly inspired by something I said in this post, so this is sort of expanding on that. Here's the gist:

Relationship: Finch Parnassus (MC) & Nia Ellarious (Platonic)

Warnings: Some swearing

Word Count: 2,188

Summary: It's the middle of the night in Whitetower. Finch and Nia have a much needed conversation.

~~~

A few nights had already passed since the party returned from the Shadow Realm. They were still staying in Whitetower, at least for now, since they'd already been given rooms. King Arlan had insisted they keep them for a while.

After all, what sort of a king would I be if I didn't provide a roof over the head of the Hero of Morella and his allies?

Those had been the King's words. And so they had stayed. For how long, none of them were entirely sure. Tyril or Imtura would likely be the first to leave; after all, they had their own kingdoms and families to get back to. Mal might be the next to go, surely off to some other job, some other heist, some other adventure. Nia would likely find a place to settle down elsewhere in Whitetower, although whether it would be the Temple or not was uncertain. Finch… Well, he didn't know what he might do.

It had to have been about five, maybe six days. He wasn't exactly keeping count. As the nights passed, and continued to pass, he hadn't slept much. Perhaps exhaustion had made him a little less sharp. Although, after all that had happened, he no longer knew how smart he'd ever been.

This was a night much like any other one. Finch was lying in his very comfortable bed, in his perfectly safe room, the stars glittering in the sky above, and he was utterly unable to fall asleep. Something was keeping him awake, that much he knew, but he couldn't put his finger on precisely what it was. Whenever he thought about it for too long it made his head hurt. His heart, too, like someone was prodding at it with a sharp stick.

Just as he'd resigned himself to another sleepless night, he heard a soft knocking at his door. It didn't startle him, but it did make him sit up. He slowly got out of his bed to investigate. He couldn't imagine who would possibly be coming to see him at this hour. The thought did cross his mind that somehow this was another threat, coming for him so soon after defeating the first, but he didn't want to believe that. All he knew was that the knocking was too quiet to be Imtura, Mal wouldn't waste a perfectly good night holed up in the castle, and Tyril considered himself far too dignified to be paying anyone a midnight visit. In spite of all of that, Finch still found himself surprised when he opened the door to see-

“Nia?” he murmured, rubbing at one of his eyes with the heel of his hand. “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be resting?”

“I- I suppose I should, yes,” Nia nodded, speaking in a hushed tone. Her hands were clasped loosely in front of her. “But I've been unable to sleep tonight, because I've been thinking of you, and… there is something that I feel I should speak to you about.” Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I hope I didn't wake you. I apologize if I did.”

“No, no, it's fine,” Finch assured her, waving his hand dismissively. “I haven't been sleeping either.” He stepped aside to open up the doorway. “You can come in if you want to.”

Nia hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside. There weren't many places to sit in the room, aside from one upholstered chair and a cushioned bench placed at the end of the bed, so she chose the latter. As she sat, she fiddled with the silky fabric of her light pink nightgown. Finch sat down beside her.

“So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked, glancing over at his friend. He could tell she was nervous about something; the set of her shoulders and the way she was fidgeting said that much. He could only assume it was about whatever she had come to say, but he hoped against the worst. The possibilities flashed through his mind; was she leaving? Was she hurt? Gods forbid, was the Dreadlord coming back?

“I… I simply wanted to ask you how you've been, since we came back,” Nia explained. Was that it? Finch couldn't help thinking that it wasn't worth coming to see him in the middle of the night. He didn't know if it was really worth asking at all.

“Really? I've been fine, maybe a little tired but that's all.” Finch's brow furrowed. “If anything, I should be asking you that question. None of what happened has anything to do with me, not any more than it has to do with the rest of us.”

“Don't try to shift the conversation,” Nia scolded gently, almost sounding like she… wait, did she pity him? Why? She continued before he could ask. “Yes, I am hurting. I cannot begin to tell you how many times a day someone asks me if I'm feeling alright. But I know that you're hurting too. It may not be in the same way, but I can still see it. I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Nia, nothing’s wrong. I promise,” Finch assured her. “If something was wrong, I'd tell you, but I'm perfectly okay. I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Finch.” Nia placed a hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture that instantly made him feel like he wasn't going to like what she was about to say. “...Have you gone to see him yet?”

Finch's body tensed. He felt his heart rate quicken. His hands gripped the edge of his seat. Nia hadn't named who she was speaking of, but he knew well enough anyway.

Aerin.

His jaw set. “No.” The truth was, he'd been trying not to think much about Aerin since they'd returned. It was no use. There wasn't anything he could do now, and dwelling on the past was too painful. Since then, he really had felt alright. He hadn't been lying about that. But now he was thinking about all of it again. Gods, he felt nauseous.

“I am not going to try to make you do anything you don't want to do,” Nia began, slowly combing her fingers through the lengths of her hair and not meeting his gaze. “...But he has been asking about you.”

Finch stood up and turned fully to look at her. He wasn't sure if he was upset with Nia, for taking that risk, or himself for being too much of a coward to do the same. “You've seen him?”

“Yes, I have. More than once,” Nia confirmed. “I don't believe anyone else knows, but I have.”

Finch took a deep breath, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Gods, Nia, you could've gotten hurt.”

“I recognize the risks.” Nia stood then too, her voice remaining calm and soft in a way that made Finch feel like he, in comparison, was utterly insane. “I believe in him, Finch. He's very… resistant to listening to me at the moment, but I refuse to entertain the idea that he can't be saved.”

“Nia, he tried to make you a vessel for an evil overlord.”

“I am aware.” She lifted her hands and placed them on his upper arms. “That's something I have taken the time to consider on my own, and it isn't what I want to discuss with you right now. I want you to tell me why you've been avoiding this.”

“I haven't been avoiding anything. There just isn’t anything else to say.” Finch stepped away from Nia, running a frazzled hand through his brown hair. “He was with us, and then he wasn't. Now we move on.”

“This can't possibly be good for you.” Nia took a small step closer to Finch, a divot appearing between her brows. “There has always been more to it than that.”

“What do you want me to say?” Finch threw his hands up defeatedly. “That I liked having him around? That he was a good friend? That I believed that somehow, some way, he might actually care about me?”

“Finch-” Nia lifted her hand as if to reach out to him, but he simply kept going. There was no way to stop his words now that they were finally coming out.

“I was stupid, Nia. And you know what the most idiotic thing of all is?” He laughed, but it carried no humor. His eyes held no light. “After all of this, if he still wanted me, I would drag myself back to him. Even after everything he's done, I still can't get over Aerin fucking Valleros.”

The silence hung heavy in the room. The air almost felt thick. A tense, icy moment passed where a part of Finch thought Nia was going to leave. But instead, she took a few hesitant steps forward, like someone might if they were approaching a frightened animal. Then, she did quite possibly one of the last things Finch would've expected; she wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him into a tight hug. For a moment he stood perfectly still, his brain still catching up with the action.

Before he knew it, he was beyond repair. He crumbled into pieces in Nia's arms, his posture slumping until he was able to press his forehead against Nia's shoulder. His body shook as his tears soaked into the fabric of her nightgown. He was embarrassed, almost ashamed, to be so undone over this. It was shameful. It was wrong to still have any feelings this strong about Aerin that weren't hatred. Maybe the mortification would at the very least help him regain some sense. He wished he could've kept himself together. Still, he wound his arms around Nia in return, seeking comfort even when his last shreds of dignity resisted.

They stood like that for a long time. It could've been five minutes, it could've been an hour, Finch didn't know. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, his voice uneven.

Nia took a small step back then, raising her hands and placing them gently on either side of his face. “There is nothing for you to apologize for,” she told him, keeping eye contact as she spoke. “You are not to blame for any of what happened.” She used her thumb to wipe a tear from his cheek. “And you are certainly not to blame for the way that you feel. No one can control that.”

“Don't tell them,” he pleaded. “Tyril, Imtura, Mal, don't tell them. And Kade. Please, Nia, don't tell Kade.” Something about the thought of his brother knowing that he still cared for the person who tried to kill one of his best friends - and successfully killed his own brother - felt deeply, personally unforgivable.

“I won't speak a word about this to anyone unless you ask me to. I swear it,” Nia promised him.

Finch breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Still, I do think that you should put more thought into what your next steps are going to be.” Nia took both of his hands, holding them between her own. “You aren't obligated to go visit him now, or ever. But I believe that if you try it, even once, it may help you more than you realize. It may help both of you.”

Finch considered that for a moment. A very strong half of his mind was screaming at him that he could never see Aerin again, or else he'd never be able to come back from it. But a quieter, more gentle part of his mind knew that what Nia was saying might have substance. Just going to see him once could help, especially if he stayed on the other side of the door. But it was still more complicated than that.

“I…” He began, trailing off as he thought about what he was going to say. “I'll sleep on it.”

“That's a very good idea,” Nia smiled up at him. “Hopefully you'll be able to rest more easily now. I'll try to do the same.”

“Goodnight, Nia.” He smiled back, but it was smaller, and with less certainty.

“Goodnight, Finch. I'll see you in the morning.”

Nia let go of his hands and touched his shoulder one last time before moving towards the door, glancing back at him one last time before leaving. Finch simply stood where he was for a while, replaying Nia's visit in his mind. He hadn't expected any of what he'd said to come out, ever. Had it been for the best? He wasn't sure.

He climbed back into bed, gazing over at the wall as he laid there. Now that the floodgates had opened, he was thinking of Aerin. He had a feeling he'd be doing that much more often now, whether he went to see him or not. There wasn't anything he could do about it anymore. He didn't know how things would turn out, and he didn't know if he'd ever truly get over his feelings. All he knew now was that he had to do the right thing.

No matter how hard it may be.

#no beta we die like baldur #(aka shamefully and with dishonor if this ends up being bad)#also i am considering doing a part 2 to this and i think we all know what that would be #so we'll see #blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow choices #choices #choices blades #playchoices #choices blades of light and shadow #playchoices blades of light and shadow #blades 2 #playchoices blades #finch parnassus #nia ellarious #aerin valleros #aerin x mc

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