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talkinfanfic · 2 years

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Episode 304: Interview with Jeevey

🎙 LISTEN HERE! Or find us on Apple Podcast, Spotify, and everywhere else you can stream podcasts!

Sara sits down with the amazing, sublime, talented @jeevey, a legend in the Oasis RPF and Gcest world. Jeevey talks about the challenges of finding time to express yourself amid real life responsibilities; telling the truth through amateur writing; the joys of RPF and her start in the U2 fandom; rejecting the shame of writing taboo topics, and why she likes writing about interesting, compelling characters versus ‘unproblematic’ more acceptable figures (BORING!)

Jeevey is also the fandom expert on Noel Gallagher’s pre-Oasis career as a roadie for the Inspiral Carpets, and his friendship (ahem) relationship, with the now legendary Mancunian Clint Boon. Jeevey chronicles a Clint/Noel romance in her beautiful ongoing work, “Transistor”.

We also mention Jeevey’s recent trip to the UK to see both Gallagher brothers in concert; a highlight of which was Jeevey’s front row view of High Flying Birds’ guitarist Gem Archer’s rather, er, overwhelming and impressive physical presents. PRESENCE, I mean!

Yes, Sara brings you another 3 hour episode, but c’mon. You know. What else you doin’ today, rasta?! Don’t Go Away, Stand By Me! Some Might Say that we’re gonna Live Forever through our incestuous bandfic obsession! D’You Know What I Mean?

Time Caps

0m - Introduction

12:23 - Interview starts. Jeevey talks early writing and how she got into the RPF fandoms.

22:00 - Jeevey on how listening to Noel’s solo material funneled her into the Oasis fic and gcest fandoms. Baby’s first gcest fic!

32:00 - “I don’t want to bring up the Loch Lomond kiss already, but…” aka “collective mainstream fan cognitive dissonance” aka “WOW just LOOK AT THAT SETLIST!”

37:00 - Sara asks Jeevey if she has a favorite brother to write. Complicated!Noel and Scary!Liam

49:22 - “The Passing of Peggy Gallagher”

57:45 - “Broken Arrow River”

1:39:17 - Let’s talk about Clint Boon! And getting into “Transistor”

1:54:35 - Digging more into “Transistor”

2:08:19 - Exploring and researching LGBTQ culture and subcultures in the UK in the 1980s (Lesbians, punks, Section 28, the AIDS crisis, etc)

2:32:40 - Rapid Fire Questions!

2:43:30 - Jeevey on seeing Noel and Liam live in the UK in 2022!

2:49:45 - Jeevey on Gem Archer’s overwhelming physical beauty

2:59:26 - Last question. What does fanfiction (and RPF) mean to you?

Episode References

Work - "The Passing of Peggy Gallagher" by Jeevey

Work - "Broken Arrow River" by Jeevey

Work - "Transistor" by Jeevey

Fanlore article on the U2 banfic website loveisblindness.net (now down). It’s sister LJ community was “U2 Slash” has been ported over to U2 Slash on Dreamwidth

Rec - "Close" by likeamadonna (U2 fic, Bono/Edge, c2002)

Rec - "Fetish" by likeamadonna (Bono/Edge) started in 2002, then went on hiatus for 14 years until the author finished it in 2016! Incredible!! @likeamadonnau2

Resource - “Gallaghercest, a Primer” by Snickfic (LiveJournal)

Resource - “Mad for Our Kid” quote archive

Resource - Oasis Interviews Blogspot

Fic Archive - “Mad for Our Kid” LJ Community

Fic - "Whatever I Choose" by Jeevey baby’s first gcest fic!

Twitter post from "Mainly Oasis" on the anniversary of Oasis at Loch Lomond. Aka, "WOW What a Setlist, that!" Or, "Collective Fandom Cognitive Dissonance re: brothers kissing."

“I AM DISTURBANCE” GQ Interview, Feb 1998 (Oasis Interviews Blogspot)

Fic Rec - "Hawkmoon" U2 Cowboy fic, Index of entries on Livejournal

Youtube - Liam singing "Once" and looking GODLIKE at MTV Unplugged (Hull City Hall, 2019)

Influence - Youtube - trailer for “Silent Tongue” the River Phoenix film we mention that was an aesthetic and tonal influence on Jeevey’s “Broken Arrow River”

Influence - Ford Madox Ford’s “Parade’s End” (Goodreads)

Influence - Robert Duvall’s film “The Apostle” (1997) trailer

Clint & Noel in Bed - "Aw, look at us." (Jeevey tumblr post with XFM clip, 2006)

1993 Inspiral Carpets Interview (a good example of Clint Boon manspreading and dominating the interview, and Tom Hingley the singer and frontman quietly holding the mic for Clint)

Resource - “Meet the lesbian punks who've been written out of London's history” (Time Out, April 2017) article jeevey linked on tumblr for context on UK queer culture in the 80s

Gcesty tune - “Take Me” by Oasis (1992 demo remastered by a fan in 2021) and lyrics

Fic Rec - “Stop the Clocks” by @savageandwise (Liam/Noel present day)

Fic Rec - time's slipping away (and what will it hold for me?) by mansgotalimit (young!Liam and present day!Noel, WIP)

Fic Rec - "The Swing of the Planets in Orbit" and its sequel "Memories in Your Lungs Like Air" by @snickfic (Liam/Noel ABO AU series)

Contact and Credits:

Music: Kyle Laurin "Oasis Supersonic Theme" (Twitter: @cobrakylemusic)

Tumblr: talkinfanfic.tumblr.com

Instagram: @talkinfanfic

Email: [email protected]

#talkin' fanfic #oasis fic #bandfic #RPF #Oasis RPF #fanfiction #podcast #fanfiction podcast #fanfic #gcest #gallaghercest #Noel Gallagher/Clint Boon #Noel Gallagher/Liam Gallagher #jeevey #jeevey writes #liam loves noel #noel loves liam #gallagher brothers

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danielashcuntwars · 3 months

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just saw the fucking noel gallagher and clint boon in bed together pics and um. ummmmmmmmmmmm

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rosewatergrapefruit · 22 days

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I know Clint boon killed himself the day Noel cut his hair

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supersonicbitchinnit · 2 years

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THANK YOU @noelygswife FOR SENDING THIS FUCKING ICONIC IMAGE TO ME

#they are so gay #noel gallagher #oasis #noel and clint #clint boon

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 2 years

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“Shine”- a Loki/Reader one-shot

You finally get a break from being a personal assistant at the Avengers Compound when you get cast in a leading role in the local community theater’s production of Beauty and the Beast. Loki, as familiar with the theater as he is, can’t help but get worried and jealous of your leading man, and he has an idea on how to keep an eye on you…

Pairing: Loki x Plus Size!Reader CW: Dumb, contrived fluff, Jealous!Loki, stage fright, body insecurity Word Count: 2.8k

“I can’t believe I got Belle!” you said excitedly, sitting around the conference table with Clint, Bruce, and Steve. “I didn’t think I did well at the callback.”

Not to mention, a woman my size isn’t usually considered princess material, you thought, not wanting to say as much out loud in front of three attractive men. The last time you were under a size-10 was in middle school, and these days you hovered between an 18 and a 20. You were usually cast as the villain or the comedic relief on stage because of it, but this director had apparently loved your voice enough that your dress size didn’t matter to her. Finally, your chance at a lead had come.

“I can’t believe you’re willing to drive forty-five minutes each way to sing and act in front of strangers,” Bruce said, half-jokingly. “But I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“Y’know, I played Belle once,” Clint quipped. “But then Lila told me she was tired and wanted to switch the DVD to something else.”

“I have to admit, these Disney cartoon films weren’t the first things I took in after being awoken,” Steve added, “But congratulations. I’ll be sure to buy tickets.”

You beamed. “I hope you all come! In fact, I bet I can convince the box office to comp you all. The Avengers endorsing a small-town theater would be a boon for them.”

“The only problem is, we still need a Gaston,” you added. “We need to find someone fast, but it IS a small town, and no one has the vocal range, or the cockiness in his personality, needed for the part. We may not have a show without a Gaston.”

You heard heavy bootsteps come up behind you, and you didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.

“A children’s show?” Loki scoffed. “Why would you want to see something as inane as a musical derived from a cartoon?”

Ever since you were hired, you’d had it pretty bad for Loki. He was smart, funny, and his long, bouncy black hair made you swoon. However, you’d stayed away under the assumption that Loki could have any beautiful woman he wanted, and someone like you would never live up to the lovers of his past. Loki must’ve taken offense to this, for when he grew wise to your reasons for keeping your distance, he immediately closed the gap and began flirting with you in the hallways. You thought he was mocking you, and so, in spite of your crush on him, you always brushed by him, never acknowledging him as anything more than an Avenger.

You groaned. “Piss off, even you can’t rain on my parade today!”

Loki pulled out the chair next to you and took a seat. “And does this mean you’ll be quitting?”

You shook your head. “I know that’s what you’re hoping for, but no, it’s just in the evenings four times a week until tech.”

“And how much are you being paid?” he added. “As a leading character, hopefully plenty?”

You rolled your eyes. “I thank you not to judge my hobby. And no, it’s not a paid engagement.”

“I don’t judge your choice of pastime,” Loki countered. “In fact, I patronized the performing arts on Asgard frequently. My qualm is that you are willing to drive a long way from here, four days a week, to work amongst strangers for no money whatsoever, only to expose yourself before a live audience, who could either love you or laugh you out of the house.”

You could feel his icy words begin to affect you.

“Hey, come off it, Laufeyson,” Steve snapped. “Why can’t you be happy for her?”

“It’s my dream role,” you added.

“I imagine, as a leading woman, you will be kissing a leading man as well? Kissing a stranger in public!” Loki sighed. “Theater people will do anything for a bit! It just doesn’t seem very becoming of a single woman.”

You grunted and shot out of your seat. “Becoming?! The only thing I’m BECOMING is agitated, Loki! Jesus Christ, do you always have to cast a cloud of negativity over every little good thing that happens to one of us?”

“No,” he said as if it were simple fact. “Only when it happens to you.”

You bit your lip. “If this is your idea of flirting, Loki, you need to take a lesson or two.”

You went to leave, deciding to take the rest of your lunch break in the lab. Before you left the conference room, you turned back to Loki. “And yes, I’m kissing someone. He’s rather handsome, too, and his voice could remove my panties faster than your magic ever could.”

“Ouch!” Steve laughed.

“Nice one,” Bruce added.

Clint leaned back and folded his arms, amused. “There isn’t enough aloe in the country to soothe that burn.”

Loki looked down at his lap, smarting at your insult as you skipped away in triumph. Even so, he was already concocting a plan. He just needed to rent a certain film to do some research first…

“—ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered…”

Three days later, you were dressed ready for a one-on-one dance workshop with the choreographer when you first entered the space that, two months from now, would be shining spotlights on you as you belted out the final notes to “Home.”

The house was already populated with other actors and tech crew working. The Narrator’s deep bass was chilling.

“Y/N!” chimed out Bri, the choreographer waiting for you. You smiled as she came up to you. “Glad you’re on time! Thanks for bringing character shoes.”

You shrugged. “About time I took them out for a spin again! Hey, any updates on the Gaston situation?”

Bri nodded excitedly. “Actually, the director’s meeting with a candidate right now. He sure looks the part, at least I think so! He’s just got to audition—”

As if on cue, a rich, handsome baritone started singing some tune that was unfamiliar to you. It was upbeat and robust, but it was also a sweet melody.

Oh no, I might end up falling for the bad guy in the end if this man gets the role, you thought, shuffling towards the left wing, where a piano was being kept, and where an accompanist was plunking out the song the mysterious singer was gifting your ears with.

You brushed aside one of the curtains, only to stop in your tracks as you processed that it was Loki himself, singing that incredible song. The director was standing behind the accompanist, looking very pleased with him. Your jaw hit the floor.

After the final bar, the entirety of the cast had gathered around the left wing, and they all erupted in applause and cheers.

Marie, the director, quickly scooted around the piano to shake Loki’s hand. “Welcome to the cast, Gaston! Everyone, we have a full cast!”

Fuck. A. Duck.

Everyone clapped again as Marie gently turned Loki around to face you. “And I believe you already know our Belle! You two probably know how to work together already! So, Mr. Loki, go see Adele for costuming before the end of tonight if you would? And Y/N,” she turned to you. “I changed my mind, I want you and Garrett doing Intimacy Coaching with Marty in the green room, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you said, trying to hide your burning desire to kick Loki in his sack. As soon as Marie left you to your own devices, Loki smirked and raised a curious eyebrow.

“Intimacy Coaching?” he asked, sounding intrigued.

“Don’t get your hopes up, perv,” you groaned. “It’s just boundaries and limit-testing. We kiss twice at the end of the show and it’s to make sure we’re cool with each other, that’s all.”

“I’m sure your partner wouldn’t agree,” Loki murmured.

“Okay, first of all, Garrett is gay. Gayer than Christmas. So that’s already one problem solved,” you told him. “Second, just…why? Why, Loki? Was tormenting me at work not enough to get you off anymore?”

“I thought someone needed to keep an eye on you,” Loki growled. “And it’s been nearly a millennium since I’ve graced a stage with my presence, so I—”

“—you are ridiculous, you know that? You SHOULD be playing LeFou!” you barked, spinning on your heels and walking away before you lost your cool entirely.

Loki followed you with his eyes, his shoulder dropping as you left the house. Damn, he thought. I’m losing my touch. Sighing, he went to go retrieve a script from the stage manager as Garrett, the actor playing Beast, was practicing the final notes of his big ballad, which seemed to perfectly reflect the feelings in Loki’s own heart in that moment:

“Hope I could have loved her and that she'd set me free But it's not to be If I can't love her…”

Tech Week arrived faster than you thought; you were having such a blast rehearsing for the role of a lifetime. What’s more, when word got out that an Avenger was in the leading cast, ticket sales boomed so much that the company had to rent out another week from the building for a second weekend of the run, which of course meant even more people would be seeing you.

You didn’t say anything more to Loki than was absolutely mandated by your respective parts in the show. Even at music rehearsal, you sang away from him. If you’d just turned your head a few times during a solo, you would have seen that Loki was genuinely impressed by your vocals, and couldn’t hide the admiring look on his face.

Admittedly, the stage fright was beginning to crawl up your back, especially now as you were in the green room with the costumer, getting the final touches finished on your ball gown. Sadly, no version of the iconic yellow gown fit your full body, so a replica in the same size and shape, but in a crystal blue color more akin to Cinderella, was made. You still looked incredible, at least according to the seamstress, but the fact that there was no costume in the yellow you’d dreamed of wearing as a girl made your insecurity only grow. Now showtime was beginning to feel less like a looming adventure and more like a ticking clock. Would the audience receive you for who you were as a singer-slash-actor? Or would no one be able to get past your looks. After all, it was right there in the song lyrics: “it’s no wonder her name means ‘beauty.’”

“Would you like to go out and show everyone?” asked the costumer. You looked at yourself one more time in the mirror, sighing and admitting to yourself that you really looked all right.

Picking up the hem of your billowing skirt, you went upstairs and onto the stage, where two stagehands were standing under spotlights, so that the tech director could focus them.

“Oh, never mind, let her stand under the light,” the tech master yelled from the booth above the back of the house as you stepped onto the stage. The stagehands moved aside for you, and you could hear several people gasping from the house.

“Y/N!” cried out Marie. “You’re stunning! Can you move well enough to dance?”

“Yes,” you said meekly, stepping into the light, feeling vulnerable.

“Geddit, Bella!” you could hear Garrett calling from the wings, and you looked over at him, dressed in his own royal-blue best.

“Do a slow turn,” the tech master asked. You obeyed. “The light reflects this color differently than I thought…”

After a few minutes of standing in the light, hearing the encouragement from your cast and crewmates, you were given permission to step aside and to get out of your dress and into dance gear for the top of the show, but as you swiftly walked back into the wings, you heard Loki call out from near the curtain.

“Beautiful,” he mused, admiring you. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him oddly.

You couldn’t help but fail to stifle a laugh at Loki’s appearance in his own costume: the standard candy-apple red jacket and black ponytail. He looked the part for certain, but seeing him in such a recognizable suit was strange, to say the least.

Loki smiled and looked down at himself. “I know. I should have asked to play the clock.”

You smiled. “You look like Gaston,” you said.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Should I consider that an insult?”

“Um….no,” you answered. “He’s supposed to be the physical ideal. Herculean, y’know?”

Loki took this as a signal to slowly close the gap between you, looking you in the eye. “I knew Heracles,” he said quietly. “He’s not exactly someone I’d invite to supper.”

“Look, Loki,” you began, “About what’s been going on between us, I’ve been thinking about it, and maybe it’s worth it to talk things through? After all—”

“—Y/N, I didn’t make my intentions fully clear before,” he said. “I did not take this part because I was worried that you’d be swept off your feet by another. Well, perhaps not entirely.”

“You didn’t? Could have fooled me,” you quipped.

“Ever since Stark hired you,” he continued, “I’ve held a bit of a torch for you. That said, my knowledge of Midgardian flirting rituals are limited. Once I thought my attempts to get your attention were yielding the opposite result to what I was hoping for, maybe I became a bit spiteful.”

“So you DID ask for the part to torture me?”

He quickly shook his head. “I wanted to protect you.”

“From whom?” you asked.

Loki sighed. “One thing about Midgard I DO know about is the shallowness of the people here. I know you are a lady of beauty, but the humans out there can’t seem to appreciate anything that falls outside their norm. I was afraid they would come after you.”

You looked away from Loki, blushing and hoping he wouldn’t notice. “I guess I appreciate the gesture, cavalier and outdated as it is.”

“But,” Loki continued, putting up a hand. “After hearing your dulcet tones sweetening the air in the room, and seeing you grace the stage with your body in that immense dress, I don’t see a need to protect you any more.”

You cocked your head. “No?”

Loki smiled and took your hand, gently starting to remove the opera glove on your arm. “You are talented and graceful. Any audience that would judge you for a large frame and not your skills are mad and not worthy to attend the performance. But, with what you’ve been bringing, I think worrying is no longer required.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“And,” Loki continued, removing the glove and bringing your bare hand to his lips, laying a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “If you would forgive me for my previous misguided transgressions, I would be honored if you’d let me escort you to the after party on our final evening.”

The light kiss on your hand sent electricity up your arm and down your spine.

“You’d willingly be seen with me?” you asked. “And you’d be proud of me?”

Loki took your arm and pulled you in even closer, taking his hand and running it gently along your cheek. “My dear, I’d be a beast not to be.”

Opening night, you felt the icy chill of stage fright cement you off in the right wing as the recorded narration and the opening scene played out for the audience.

Loki was right behind you, confident in his stride as always.

“How do you feel, Belle?” he asked gently, leaning by your ear from behind you as you stood watching for your cue. You shook your head, your skin shaking with fear. “Darling, your skin is trembling.”

He caressed your neck with a hand, and somehow, it did the trick, stopping the shakes underneath your skin and warming you.

“You really think they’re going to like me?” you asked. “What of--?”

“—no what ifs, Y/N,” Loki demanded. “This is your finest hour,” Loki said, encouraging you with a firm-but-kind hand on the small of your back. “Act like it.”

Giving you one last kiss for luck on your cheek, he gestured to the stage, where the scene was going black and the narration dying. “I do believe that is your cue. Go. Shine.”

You felt a tingle of courage (and pleasure) milk the adrenaline from your brain, giving you the fuel that you needed to take your place for your grand entrance. Once you did, and once the first spotlight and twinklings of “Belle” emitted from the orchestra pit, the audience clapped for you.

You immediately blew them away with your opening notes, Loki’s own heart began to tremble with admiration (and affection) as he watched you.

“Little town…such a quiet village…”

@el-zef @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @michelleleewise @mochie85 @toozmanykids @xorpsbane @huntress-artemis @itsybitchylittlewitchy @the-fantasy-loving-angel @moonlightreader649 @littlemarvelmenfan @ficitve-sl0th

#MCU #MCU Loki #MCU fanfiction #Loki fanfiction #Loki fluff #Beauty and the Beast #MCU Avengers #fluff fic #fanfiction #theater #marvel #loki x reader #plus-size reader #loki/reader #loki x reader fluff #enemies to lovers

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lucifers-horror-harem · 6 months

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Winter Warning

Hi all! I know this one was technically for last week but shhhhhh last week was busy and now I've finally got some time off to catch up. Anyway, this is for Week 4 of @the-slasher-files Blood Fest, hope y'all enjoy!!

Warnings: ***Dub/Non Con***, alone in the middle of the woods with an asshole kidnapper, dead dove don't eat. Rough, quick and dirty, the reader doesn't get off, kidnapping, restraints, knives/threats with knives. Word Count: ~3k Prompts: Mask. Knives. Keywords: Enliven. Raw.

You’re met with your own face reflected back, eyes widened in fear. Your face is covered in flecks of snow, collecting there as your body heat is too slow to melt them. There are simply too many. The mirror is surrounded by darkness, a void in the middle of this snowstorm you’ve gotten caught in. In a way, you’re almost certain you’ve died out here from the cold, and death has come to take you.

“Whatchu doing out here like this? Get lost?”

You blink slowly. The darkness spoke. With a Southern accent, no less. But it begins to slowly dawn on you that this isn’t death, and you’re not dead. The mirror is ski goggles, wrapped around in shiny reflective material. The darkness is merely the hood of a coat and a scarf over a face.

“Shit, you still in there?”

This time you nod, unsure of how to properly respond. There isn’t enough energy in you to muster anything meaningful. Your legs feel like lead and your face feels numb from the cold. You’d been hiking and suddenly a snowstorm hit, and you’d gotten turned around. Even now, you can barely see five feet from your face.

“Well c’mon. Cabin’s not too far from here.”

A heavy gloved hand wraps around your forearm, pulling you along before you can say as much as boo. But would you have really said no? He’s the only one you’ve seen out here, and you had no proper shelter and nothing in your bag to keep you fed if this storm took longer to pass. So you followed, as there really wasn’t much choice if you didn’t want to become a popsicle.

His cabin wasn’t far at all. In fact, you most certainly would have stumbled upon it eventually. Tucked away in the trees, the snow wasn’t as harsh on your face as he dragged you along. Once inside, warmth hit you in waves, and you sighed in relief as your face began to feel a tad less numb. You were standing in a mud room, cluttered with outerwear and boots and shoes and all manner of things. Your savior pulled back his hood and ripped off his scarf, his jaw firm and dusted with scruff. As he pulls the mirrored goggles up, you’re met with piercing blue eyes, narrowed as they look back at you. This throws you for a bit of a loop, as you expected a far more friendly face. But everything about him was firm, hardened, and cold. It was almost as if there was a hint of disdain in his eyes, even though everything about him so far seemed to be at the very least helpful.

“Ya just gonna stand there freezing to death? Or ya need help?”

Before you can say anything, he’s kneeling in front of you. You hiss in pain as your legs start to gain feeling when he pulls off your boots. Your socks are wet, you hadn’t thought you needed taller boots today. You unzip your jacket and toss it on an empty chair as Boone removes your socks. His bare hands are warm on your raw skin, and he rubs your foot firmly as a way to bring back some circulation. As you awkwardly place your hand on his shoulder for stability.

“Sorry… thanks…” your voice is small as it comes out, and he stands up abruptly, tossing his own coat to the side. He’s in actual proper layers for this weather, a heavy tan Carhartt jacket on top of a hooded coat, and he’s wearing heavy overalls under that. He throws you a glance as he undoes the straps, and you see he’s wearing discolored jeans underneath it all. “I… uh… didn’t realize the weather was going to be that bad…”

“No shit,” he tosses back, and you feel a bit lost for words. He didn’t have to let you into his home, so why was he so stiff? Perhaps he just didn’t like people but felt obligated to help anyway.

As you go to follow him deeper into the cabin, he stops you. “You’re gonna catch hypothermia in those.” He gestures to your jeans, soaked through and cold. You nod, as if that’s obvious, and try to continue, but he stops you again. “Take ‘em off.”

This causes you to stop. Stuck with a strange man in a strange cabin in the middle of God knows where without pants. Sheepishly, you offer, “Do you have something I can change into?”

He merely nods. “Don’t want ya tracking it through the place though.” He did have a point… yet you still felt like everything was wrong here. Before you could even try to work your way around this, he adds, “There’s more shame in being dead from something ya could’ve prevented than whatever stupid modesty shit you’re worried about, kid.”

You bristle a bit, but you know he’s right. After a few moments, you reach down to your belt, undoing it as he watches, seemingly annoyed. There’s still a struggle as the wet fabric clings to your legs, and it feels embarrassing having him watch you fight with such a simple task. But finally, you’re free from them, standing in just your underwear and hoodie before him. At the very least, his gaze doesn’t seem to be leering, and he turns without a word and walks through the door.

Walking through the kitchen and into the living room, you wished you still had socks on. The man has a mud room but the place still looks like the floors haven’t been vacuumed. At least it’s all hardwood and throw rugs. But what you’re more focused on is the fireplace at the far side of the room, and the man throws a blanket onto the floor for you to sit right in front of it. As you sink down, the heat begins to envelop you, your skin slowly coming alive again as your limbs begin to tingle. The man drapes another blanket over your shoulders to cover you, and he turns to leave the room. “Wait-” You stop him and he turns. “What’s your name?”

He stares at you for a few moments, until he answers. “Boone.”

“Thank you, Boone. This is really kind of you.”

His eyes are still an enigma to you, unable to read his emotions as he assesses the sight of you before him. But finally, he merely nods and turns to leave.

Over the course of a few hours, Boone was incredibly attentive, if not mildly unenthused with his new company. He brought you hot coffee, black, and you gulped the bitter liquid down. It was better to have something warm to drink than nothing at all. He had brought you sweatpants that were a bit baggy on you, as well as heavy wool socks. Even though you were feeling far too warm now, you couldn’t help but stay right where you were. You never wanted to feel cold again.

The longer you sat on the floor, the more Boone seemed to linger. He didn’t continue any conversations when you tried to initiate it. Even when you told him your name, he didn’t bother to use it. It was like he fit the solitary man in the middle of the woods trope perfectly. His eyes continued to look you over, not necessarily in a dirty way, but one that made you feel small and meek. You started to wonder just what was on his mind, considering he wouldn’t speak up every time you tried.

“Is it still going to be bad out there for a while, you think?”

Boone, who was leaning back against the windowsill, gave a sideways glance to the window. “Probably.”

“Can’t you look on your phone or something?”

“Don’t got one.”

Again, that feeling of being in the middle of nowhere with this man is sinking in. But you do your best to shrug and act like it’s no big deal. “Oh, well, I’ve got one in my bag. I can grab it and check.”

His response is quick. “Don’t bother. Got no service out here anyway.” Boone seems to be rather nonchalant, but there’s something there that detracts from whatever calm demeanor he’s trying to convey. His eyes are narrow, almost glaring down at you for the suggestion. So you simply nod and pretend you never asked.

After a little bit, the anxiety begins to eat away at you. Whatever is going on, you’d feel safer with your phone. You don’t know if he’s telling the truth about service. You might be closer to town than you think. So, to seem a bit less conspicuous, you ask. “Can I use the bathroom?”

“Second door on the left.” He barely so much as glances at you as he stares outside. It makes you relieved that he seems to be more occupied with something else rather than you.

You end up going to the bathroom anyway while you’re there, and splash some water on your face. Trying to reassure yourself that you’ll be fine, you look at yourself in the mirror again. Your eyes look just as wide as they were before, like a deer in the headlights. You rub your palms over your face, trying your best to ignore it all. Nothing is going to happen to you. That sort of thing only happens in horror movies. He’s not going to gut you and skin you like some wild game.

As you exit the bathroom, that thought enters your mind again. You need your phone. You need to check. So, you slowly pad back to the mud room, trying to not work yourself up in a tizzy. You’ll grab your phone from your pack, you’ll see he was right, and everything will be fine.

But when you stop in the doorway, you see that your pack is gone. Your clothes are still there, Hell even the jeans he said he’d hang to dry are still in a wet heap on the floor. The terror begins to twist and bubble in your stomach, panic flooding your veins. This was wrong. This was all wrong. And everything you felt wasn’t just you being silly. It was right. You were right.

“Got lost?”

You don’t even turn around, your feet launch from the floor as you try to make a run for it, run out the door, but his arm wraps around you faster. There’s a pinch on your neck, and at first, you figure it’s his hold on you, but your brain begins to piece together your surroundings more clearly, even with your heart thumping in your ears. It’s a blade. A big, fuck you blade. Pressed against your neck.

“Where’d ya think you’re going, kid? Huh?” His gravelly voice is low, taunting in your ear. “You gonna go outside in that? It’s even worse than what I found ya in. You’ll be dead before ya make it anywhere safe.”

All you can manage are pathetic little whimpers as you stand on tip toes, trying to push yourself away from the blade but end up leaning further against his chest. His hot breath is on your neck, one arm securely around your middle and the other on your throat with that blade. Weak hands pull at his arm, but he’s too strong for you to fight back. It’s useless.

“Let’s go back inside, hmm? Get your blood pumping again.”

You’re unceremoniously dragged back into the cabin, back to the living room, all the while trying your best to squirm away from the knife pressed against your neck. Tears prick your eyes as you try desperately to calm yourself down. You’re trapped. There’s no getting out of this. You need to placate him or else you’ll be dead. Even if there’s a chance you’ll be dead either way…

Pushed onto the floor, he climbs over your body, knee pressed between your shoulder blades as you cry out. He grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging it as he forces you to turn to look up at him. The cruel smile and sharp gaze are the most emotion you’ve seen out of the man the entire time you’ve been here. Your heart is thudding in your chest, your throat dry as you try your best not to squirm, the blade still ever-present.

He tilts his head slightly, clicking his tongue as he takes it all in. “Ya know, maybe if you’d have been smarter and not decided to hike in the goddamn winter, ya wouldn’t be here. Pretty stupid’ve ya to do.”

All you can do is nod, bottom lip quivering. After a moment, you whisper softly. “I don’t want to die.”

He snickers at that. “‘Course not. No one dumb enough to trespass ever does.” The flat of the blade taps against your throat, taunting you. “But if ya make it worth my while… ya might not have to. Your choice.”

There is no choice. Who would choose death? “...Okay…” the word sounds so pitiful, but it seems to please him.

The blade still lingers by your throat, his knee lifting from you as you can breathe a bit easier. The hand holding your hair frees itself, instead going to the sweatpants of his you’re wearing and shucks them down. You can barely stand to look back, your gaze focused on the floor.

But his hand is soon between your thighs, and you can’t help but yelp and squirm as he chuckles in your ear. “Feels like yer already desperate for it,” his breath low and raspy in your ear as you struggle to not feel shame at your body’s natural reaction to this. To being manhandled and pushed around and taken control of. It was no use denying it, so you don’t. He wouldn’t care anyway.

Even if you’ve mentally prepared for what will happen, he doesn’t give you much time for it. Not when he seems to have himself free before you can even realize it, and your underwear and sweats bunched around your thighs as he pushes himself in from behind. You cry out, hands pressed against the floor as he groans deep in his chest, his member thicker than you anticipated. The blade moved to the nape of your neck, his free hand grasping your hip as he barely gave you time to adjust.

“Fuck…” His breath is hot on your neck, his hips merciless as you struggle to keep your face from being pushed further against the floor. “Can’t believe you were keepin’ this from me…” As if it was on purpose. “So fuckin’ tight…”

You struggle to relax, to try to ride this out. It doesn’t help that it truly feels good, the stretch of him against your walls, his body heavy against yours as he just… takes you. He’s ruthless, all in chasing his own high as he uses you for his own release.

It doesn’t take him long before his hips begin to stutter, his grip bruising on your hip as he growls incoherently in your ear. You try to squirm, but it’s no use. It only seems to speed up the inevitable. He spills inside you, warmth spreading through you as you whimper softly at the feeling. Your sex is tingling with unfulfilled need, and you know he’s not kind enough to return the favor. You’ll be left wanting. You don’t know what’s worse, Boone satisfying you or leaving you wanting more.

There’s a shuddering sigh of relief that hisses from your lips, your body relaxing. It was finally over. You’d be given a break, you could relax and recoup and figure out what you’d do next. You should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

As soon as his hands are on you again, there’s a struggle as he forces you up, the knife clattering to the floor, forgotten. You’re tossed over his shoulder like a sack, and you’re unable to keep your cool, you pound on his back with your fists, legs kicking wildly as he grips your thighs to his chest with a strength that terrifies you. It’s not long before he’s forcing you down a dim set of stairs, the realization filling you with dread.

What you can see of the basement is dark and lonely, but fairly clean. There are rows of shelves of goods, but none you can focus on right now. You’re tossed onto a soft surface, and as you realize it’s a dingy mattress, everything grows more clear. Even more when he wrestles with your legs, pants still around your thighs and making it difficult to fight back. A cuff is secured tightly to your left ankle, and the tears flow freely now as you yell and scream and tell him it’s not fair, you did what he wanted, he couldn’t do this to you.

All it does is make him laugh. “What? Didja think I’d give ya free reign of the place? Let ya share my bed?” His hand comes to your chin, forcing you to look into those soulless eyes. “Y’ain’t special enough for that, kid. No one is.”

He ignores your curses and spitting and weak punches, merely stepping out of your way as you struggle to move yourself too far with the ankle cuff. He turns and tosses a blanket at you, one that you’re shocked is somewhat heavy. “Be good, and if ya aren’t hollering too much, I’ll bring ya dinner.”

And with that, he turns back to the stairs, all while you yell incoherently back at him. The door slams, leaving you, your thoughts, and a single dim bulb illuminating the cellar. Slowly, it dawns on you that this might be a fate worse than death.

#sfbf23 #OC: Clint Boone #slasher oc #yandere oc

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