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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

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The Fractured Moon - Part 2

Yandere! Marc Spector - Jake Lockley - Steven Grant X f!Reader

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Moodboard - Series Masterlist - AO3 Link

Part 2 Summary:

You spend the next week adjusting to your new life with these men. The longer it takes for them to break you in, the more it's going to hurt.

Disclaimer:

I created this fic for the sole purpose of exploring the yandere thing as a fanfiction "kink" in a safe way and in a safe space. I in no way would want this to happen to myself or someone else. This fic is not a reflection of my moral beliefs. - Further, this fic is not an accurate representation of people with DID (dissociative identity disorder). These men happen to have DID and I'm putting them in a situation where they would have an unhealthy obsession with the reader character.

Tags/Warnings:

NSFW, Stalking, non-con, somnophilia, rape, mentions of murder, drugged sex, kidnapping, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, threats of physical harm, copious amounts of sex, copious amounts of unprotected sex, blood, unrealistic refractory period, biting, slapping, hitting, reader is smol, choking, non-consensual drug use (kinda), cock-warming. This is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat situation.

Word Count: 15k (Don't look at me)

Así = Like that

Buena niña = Good girl

Vamos = Come on

Comprende = Understand

At some point in the night you slept. Your captors seemed to leave you at peace long enough for you to doze on and off throughout the night. You felt weak, hungry, and thirsty as your eyes fluttered open the following morning. You didn’t even remember actually falling asleep, all you remembered was Steven kissing you on the cheek, and then leaving the room to let you rest. He said he’d come back to wake you with something special. Now you had that aching feeling between your legs while you stirred, something was inside of you that wasn’t there when you’d slumbered off. You recognized that feeling. One of them was stuffing you with their cock again.

Steven had been away from you all night. They’d neglected their duties as Moon Knight for so long that they finally had to put in some work for Khonshu. When they returned home, he wasted no time going straight to your room. He felt a sense of relief when he could see that you were right where they’d left you, sleeping soundly in your bed, and naked.

He was so excited, seeing you laying there so soundly. He’d stripped himself down and crawled in behind you, much like he had the first time he’d taken you. It was Jake’s idea to keep you naked all the time for moments like this. They needed to be able to have you whenever the need arose, and Steven had been kind enough to let you rest overnight. His need was heavy now, and he’d been so good and patient.

“G’morning love, I needed to feel you again.” The one with the British accent was squeezing you against himself again, rutting into you roughly.

“N-no, please.” You croaked, which was promptly followed by a large hand covering your mouth.

“Now don’t start that. You can’t expect me to believe you’re that upset when you’re soaking the sheets like this, yeah?” He groaned in your ear, “I don’t want to hear another word unless you’ve got something nice to say.”

You whimpered into his strong hand. Steven was huffing into your ear while he kept fucking you. He was right, you were drenched, slick dripping over your thighs and onto the sheets. He had himself wrapped firmly around your arms so you couldn’t move. You wished he would stop.

“If you’ll be good and quiet f’me, I can use this hand for something better. Something you might like, yeah?”

You didn’t respond. Admitting that you wanted him to touch you would further his growing delusion that you liked what was happening to you.

“You’re going to be a brat, hm?” He kissed your neck, right behind your earlobe, “s’alright love. When I’m all finished, Jake says he’s gonna make you behave a little better.”

You let out a muffled and half-hearted scream in response.

“Oh hell.”

The sound of your little shriek made his cock twitch inside of you. He liked the sound. Steven gave up on trying to silence you, wanting to hear you even clearer. It didn’t matter anyway, they lived so far removed from others that no one would hear you no matter how hard you screamed. He brought his hand down from your mouth and wrapped his fingers around your neck. He felt your throat vibrate when you gulped against his thick digits.

“Don’t worry darling, not gonna really choke you, just like havin’ my hands on you,” his voice was low. “You know I don’t want to hurt you right? None of us do. We love you. We just can’t risk losing you. That’s why you’re here.”

“It hurts.” You whined, feeling pain searing through your aching hole.

“Sh, I know love, it will feel good soon. I know you’ll be happy here, gonna take real good care of you now.”

Despite your defiance, Steven wanted to give you what you needed, and so he did. He loosened the hand that was holding your waist and brought it down to the apex of your thighs. You squeezed your legs together tightly, forcing a frustrated grunt from Steven as he thrust into you again.

“Darling please, s’not hard to just let me give you what I know you want yeah? Why are you acting like this?” He sounded like he was getting angry with you, forcing a chill down your spine.

Something about the way his cock slid against your walls the next time made you feel an overwhelming sense of pleasure, despite your mind telling you that you should be fighting to get away. Almost involuntarily you parted your thighs just enough for him to slide his middle finger in over your swollen and slippery clit. He let out a shaky moan against your ear.

“Ooh love, that feels good doesn’t it? Can feel you gripping around me so tight.” Steven started rolling his hips into you faster.

He was still in awe of how you felt, so warm and soft while he dragged his length over your walls repeatedly. A soft moan escaped your lips, and Steven thought he might faint after hearing the sound. Did you even know how beautiful your voice was to them, especially when you were enjoying yourself?

“Knew you’d like that, you sound so pretty it’s unreal.”

He swirled his finger around your nub and heard you sniffle while you continued crying. No matter how good it felt, you were still terrified. There was nothing you could do other than lay there. His fingers around your throat would get tighter if you tried to move, and surely your punishment with the mean one, Jake, would be even worse if you didn’t behave.

“You ready for me to fill you up again? Want to feel you gushin’ over me first love, come on.” Steven urged, sliding his fingers over your clit faster.

You didn’t answer verbally, but you arched back into his chest, getting as close to him as you could when you felt his fingers moving at an increased pace. Steven felt relieved to see you becoming more compliant to their needs after only one day. Marc had mocked him when Steven said you liked them, but this was proof. Why else would you be so good for him? Why else would you be reaching up to grab on to his forearm, holding his hand in place over your mound.

A love-struck smile spread over Steven’s face. You were holding onto him, squeezing tightly as he fucked into you harder. Your sobbing got louder, mixed with the soft hiccups of you trying to catch your breath. Regardless, those sweet little moans could be heard between each whimpering cry.

“You sound so good love, so-so good ah. Not gonna last, need you to come for me, hurry please.” He begged, continuing to rub the pad of his finger over your clit.

He didn’t even need to ask, you were already there. You pressed your lips together tightly, not wanting to make a sound. You didn’t want him to hear how good he’d made you feel. You still huffed through your nose though, and a muffled groan rumbled through your throat regardless of your attempt to stay quiet.

“Oh there you go love, there you are. Knew you would come for me, so good-so good-so fucking good-“

Steven squeezed you so tight you thought your bones might break. You made a choking sound that resulted in a flurry of apologies from his lips. His thrusting ceased while you felt his cock start pulsating inside of you, filling your cunt full of his hot spend.

You belonged to him.

He held onto you while he grew soft and kept repeating those words to himself. He had you there, and you weren’t going anywhere. You were theirs for the taking, any time they wanted; any time they needed. Steven muttered various words of affection in your ear while you felt yourself still crying with shame. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction of your orgasm. You’d tried so hard to hold back.

“You did so well love. You feel so good I can’t wait until later when you’ll get to have me again.”

His words stuck with you even after he left. I can’t wait until later when you’ll get to have me again.

He said it as though it were a prize you’d won, like he was going to be doing you a favor; As though you weren’t there completely against your will and trapped in a room with no way out. You weren’t sure you could take more, you were so tender from all the torture they’d already forced you to endure. You just wanted to be let free, or left alone. Either way was fine by you.

Jake planned to give your aching hole a break, knowing that Steven was sure to have difficulty restraining himself in the coming days, and perhaps even weeks. When Jake came back to you later, you seemed to have stopped crying. You looked so small, sitting on the bed with the blanket pulled up to cover yourself. As soon as you saw him, you flinched back, putting yourself against the wall as far from him as you could, bringing the blanket closer to your face as though it would protect you. Jake had on his leather gloves, white button down with the sleeves rolled up, and his black slacks. He loosened his tie and undid two of the top buttons on his shirt as he approached you with a smug grin spread over his face.

“Hola bebita.” He stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

You remembered that this was the one who held the gun to your head…the one who had you the most frightened of the three. Jake. Steven had warned that Jake was going to ��make you behave a little better’, whatever that was supposed to mean. You felt the tears threatening to fall already. You were so sick of crying, but you couldn’t help it, you were so afraid, and in so much pain. Didn’t they see that? Didn’t any of them have some empathy or compassion?

“P-please J-Jake I’m sorry.” You looked to see if he had a weapon that he meant to hurt you with, but it didn’t appear so…not yet anyway.

“Oh sweetheart you were very good for Steven.” He beckoned you over with his finger, “come here, sit at the end of the bed.”

You gulped and shook your head slowly, silently pleading with him to be merciful. You didn’t want to go anywhere near him. There was no telling what he intended to do to you. At least Steven was predictable, albeit painful, but you knew what to expect. Jake brought you a different kind of fear. The fear of the unknown.

“Listen, there are two ways we can do this sweetheart, and one will be much better for you if you just do what I tell you to do, comprende?” Your eyes were glistening wet while you looked at him pleadingly. He loved to see the way your bottom lip quivered.

“Are you going to k-kill me?” You pulled the blankets up over your mouth to hide your quivering chin.

“Of course not, that wouldn’t do me any good at all, would it?”

Faster than you could react, Jake grabbed the blankets and yanked them from you. You were left naked on the bed with nothing but your pillows and the fitted sheet beneath you. You covered yourself with your arms, like it mattered. The man in front of you sighed and started removing his tie.

“One last time, are you gonna come over here on your own or am I going to have to make you?”

You didn’t say anything. Jake noticed that you didn’t seem to talk much. He wondered if you were just afraid, or if you were naturally a quieter person. Either way, it didn't matter. Something about the way you cowered in fear in his presence made him feel painfully aroused, and filled with an insurmountable excitement. After making no attempt to move toward him on your own, he knew he was going to have to make you comply.

“Don’t hurt her, she’s scared.” Marc said in a guilt ridden tone.

Jake wasn’t going to do any actual harm to you, but he was going to make sure that when you looked in the mirror, you were reminded of who owned you now. He wanted you to feel a phantom pain on the marks he left behind every time you thought about screaming or running away. He wanted you to see the reminders on your body and think about what you’d done so you may never think of doing it again. It was the only way they could reasonably keep you there and find a way to make you happy too. His lessons were for your benefit, despite what you might be thinking. If you could learn to obey well enough, they could let you roam the house from time to time, rather than keep you confined to the one room for the rest of your days.

Jake removed a glove and walked to one of the doors in your room. He used his thumb on an electronic lock pad by the door to unlock it. It wasn’t out of the norm for Jake to have handcuffs and torture devices on hand. Sometimes when they were doing their work for Khonshu they had to get answers out of people the hard way. Before this room was yours, they used it to interrogate the criminals Jake would bring back there. When they decided they were taking you, they made it a little more comforting, adding a bed to the otherwise empty room. Steven had suggested adding more to make it warmer, but Jake reminded him they didn’t have time to hire a damn interior designer before bringing you home. Your comfort could be managed later.

He pulled out some cuffs before closing the door and turning to face you once again. He swung the restraints around his finger while looking right at you. You gulped harshly. Defying him was a mistake, and you were wondering now if it was too late to show your willingness to comply with his demands. You crawled to the end of the bed quickly and sat back on your knees, covering your breasts with your arm and placing your hand over your mound in your lap, as if modesty was something you could achieve in your current position.

“Aw bebita, you should’ve done this sooner.”

He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned your face from one side to the other. You were so fucking pretty he felt his stomach doing flips from just looking at you, and you were all his. He stepped back and gestured for you to turn.

“Turn around, hands behind your back, vamos.” He urged, never letting that snide grin fade from his face.

“I-I’m sorry Jake.” You said, remembering how much he liked it when you apologized before.

“Oh, princesa, I know. Come on now, turn around,” he said, tone unwavering and stern.

You looked at him a little longer, hoping he would change his mind and be kind to you, but his expression remained firm. You finally obeyed, turning and putting your hands behind your back. Just when you thought you were incapable of crying any more, more tears started falling down your cheeks. You let out a dry sob. If only you could get some water.

Jake knew you needed something to eat and drink, it was obvious in your voice. Marc was already chattering in the headspace with Steven about what they were going to do about that once Jake was finished. He handcuffed your delicate wrists together, smiling at himself when he saw your beautiful body from behind. They hadn’t had a chance to appreciate the full view until now. You were breathtaking from every angle, and he kept remembering that you were going to be there forever now. He could look at you whenever he wanted to.

“Buena niña,” he cooed.

You hiccuped as you cried harder. Jake loved the sound of your cries. He rested his bare hand on your shoulder, caressing your soft skin with his thumb. You pressed your lips together tightly to keep yourself from whimpering too loudly. He shushed you softly, running his palm over your arm.

“Next time, maybe you’ll listen a little better, si?”

You took a sharp breath, nodding slowly.

“Say, yes Jake.” He demanded.

“Y-yes Ja-Jake.”

“You’re a quick learner. I’m proud of you.” His voice was gravely with arousal. “When I praise you, I want you to say thank you, Jake.”

You whined, feeling your chest heave with emotional turmoil. You didn’t want to give him what he asked for, but you were afraid of what he might do if you were defiant. Jake put a large hand over your spine before pushing you forward. You bent in half, feeling your cunt exposed to the cool air of the room. You turned your head to the left so you could breathe. Jake let out a snicker behind you. The cold metal of the cuffs touching your lower back made you shudder.

“Thank you, Jake,” you choked out between sobs.

Jake noticed that you had your eyes closed tightly. You were so fucking afraid it was delicious. He grew excited knowing that he was about to ravage your body, inciting even more terror inside you. He could see how swollen your pussy lips were from their assault on you. Despite the aching of his cock pressing against his zipper, he wasn’t going to give it to you. Marc could later if he felt inclined, but Jake was there to teach you a lesson, not give you something he knew would ultimately pleasure you.

“The rules are simple sweetheart. If you can follow them, then you will be rewarded.” You felt the leather gloved hand press against your left cheek. “When I give you something, like a compliment, or when I let you come, you say thank you. Do you understand?”

You nodded slowly, keeping your eyes closed tight.

“When I ask a question, you will say, yes, Jake, or, no, Jake.” He squeezed your cheek so tight you winced in pain. “Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, Jake.” You opened your eyes, looking up at the man who was tormenting you.

“I need to hear you really say it, say it like you fucking mean it!” He pulled his hand back and smacked your rear, resulting in a harsh scream from your mouth.

“Yes, Jake!”

He hummed in approval, “good, you sound so pretty princesa.”

Jake grabbed onto the cuffs to hold you in place with his bare hand. He started beating against each cheek until you were screaming and begging him to stop. A small puddle of drool collected next to your lips. You sobbed deeply, making noises you’d never heard come from your own mouth before. He didn’t stop though, he just kept hammering his gloved palm against you until you were certain your ass cheeks were going to fall off your body.

“Please, it hurts!” Your throat was sore from your desperate wails.

The burning on your skin didn’t end with his assault, which he fortunately ceased for the time being. Your cheeks continued to ache even when he was done. Through the blur of your tears you could see him reaching down to grab your waist. He was strong, tossing you like a ragdoll onto your back. You groaned at the feeling of the cuffs jabbing into your spine. The sheets, despite how soft they were, stung against your backside.

“Jake, I think she’s had enough, look at her.” Marc said.

“Hmm,” he mused, looking over your trembling form.

Jake didn’t quite agree with Marc, but it was only their first day having you there. He was impressed that you’d obeyed so well, and that you’d been able to withstand the beating he’d given you. Considering that you’d begged so beautifully, he decided to spare you any more torment for now.

“Bebita, I’m going to give you a final gift for today. You handled me so well, I think you can take just a little more, don’t you?”

You sniffled and nodded, “y-yes, Jake.”

A shaking breath left his lips at the words as you uttered them. Did you even realize how preciously innocent you looked? You had your knees up and pressed together tightly, clearly an attempt at modesty, but that wasn’t going to stop Jake. He placed a large hand on either knee and pried your legs apart with a grunt.

“Please, it hurts so much, please.” You begged, closing your eyes tightly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck you sweetheart. Not right now.” Jake’s gloved finger dragged between your folds and rested on your clit.

You arched slightly into his touch. The fact that you were so desperate for stimulation whenever their hands were kind to you made you wonder if there was something wrong with your mind. You found yourself craving it, wanting more. He crawled onto the bed next to you, never removing his gloved fingers from your swollen nub. You bit your lip and moaned despite yourself.

“See, I can take care of you, just as much as I can hurt you, but you have to behave bebita. Gonna mark you up just a little more, okay?” Jake swooped into the side of your neck hungrily.

“Y-yes!” You said obediently.

He started sucking on the skin so hard that you let out a cry in pain. You tried to shy away and spare your bruised skin, still hurting from the way he’d choked you the night before, but Jake reached out, grabbing the other side of your head to keep you in place. You wondered if there would be an end to the torture they were putting you through, or if this was going to go on forever.

“You’ve been so good today sweetheart. Thought for sure you were going to give me a harder time than that. Maybe Steven’s right. Maybe you do like us,” he whispered softly in your ear.

“No, no, you’re monsters.” You bit your bottom lip to stop it from shaking.

“Oh, princesa, I was going to give you a little break from the pain, but now you’re starting to really piss me off.”

You gasped when you felt his teeth latch down over the meat of your shoulder. You shrieked, trying to pull away, but between the hand on your head and the one between your legs, you were trapped. Your body shook violently, trying to get yourself away from the searing pain until finally he stopped biting you. You breathed heavily, and realized he was still rubbing your clit. As the agony subsided, you started to feel that sweet tingling sensation you desired so much.

Jake looked over at you now, and when you met his eye you saw blood glistening on his lips. He smirked, leaning in to kiss you. You kept your mouth closed tightly, not wanting to give him that intimacy he seemed to be demanding from you.

“Do you want another one?” He looked at you with a dark, furrowed brow.

Another bite? No, you wouldn’t be able to handle that, the other one was tormenting you still. You leaned up, slotting your lips against his. He breathed out a feral moan as he entangled his tongue with yours. The taste of iron filled your mouth while your saliva mixed with the blood he’d taken from you. The smooth leather fingers changed direction, forcing a gasp from you.

“See, when you’re a good little girl, you get what you need from us.”

“You really hurt her, Jake,” Marc scolded.

What Jake couldn’t say out loud, not right then anyway, was that he was doing all of this to make sure you would be more pliant for them going forward. He knew that when Marc went to you later, when it was his time, that you would behave so perfectly for him, and that he would be grateful for Jake’s hard work. Marc always felt guilty, it was infuriatingly annoying to Jake, but he hoped when you showed your willingness to comply, Marc would change his tune.

He wondered if you knew how good a kisser you were. The way you kept melting your mouth into his over and over while you whimpered in your ecstasy made Jake’s brain go numb with pleasure. Your spine was arching, and Jake felt you start rocking your hips against his fingers. You started kissing him deeper, relaxing more into the motions. You were enjoying yourself, and that made him soften ever so slightly.

“Así,” he breathed gently against your lips, “mm, vamos princesa.”

You hated yourself for your words, but you were so close, and he was moving his fingers so slow.

“Faster…please,” your voice was almost inaudible.

“Hm? Gonna have to speak up for me sweetheart.”

“Faster!” You tucked your face into his neck in shame.

Jake sniffed out a laugh in response, moving his fingers a little quicker for you. You were there again, for the second time that day, moaning through your orgasm, muffled into his neck while he continued to slide his leather covered digits all over your clit. He muttered some sweet, coaxing words in your ear, no louder than a whisper. You felt fresh tears run down over your cheeks and onto his throat where your face was still buried. When you were finished, you fell back, fatigue washing over you in a heavy wave.

He stood up before turning you over. He undid your cuffs and walked over to the closet to put them back. When he turned around, you were still lying chest down on the bed. He knew you were probably hungry, thirsty, and tired.

“Get your blankets back on your bed and sit there. One of us will be in with some food and something to drink soon.” Jake ordered.

He watched as you sat upright slowly. You looked up at him with big glossy eyes. You looked tired and emotionally worn. Oh but you were still so breathtaking. He watched with nothing but adoration in his heart as you stood up and grabbed your bedding off the floor where he’d pulled it from you, and you proceeded to go tuck yourself back under the sheets, just as he’d told you to. You were learning so quickly. It was more than he could’ve hoped for.

“Very good bebita. Sit tight, we’ll be back later.”

----

They knew everything about you. At least, that’s what they’d thought when they took you. Marc was standing with the fridge door open, staring at the food in front of him. He looked from top to bottom at least a dozen times. Someone would’ve thought he was deciding on a house to buy, not something simple like what food he was going to bring to a girl who hadn’t eaten or had water all day.

“Just pick something hermano.” Jake murmured coldly, “she’s gotta be starving, and with all that cryin’ I’m sure she’s thirsty as hell.”

Marc ignored Jake, but the fact remained…he wasn’t sure what you liked to eat. They’d seen your fridge back at your old apartment, it seemed like you were into most anything. Marc thought that something small would probably suffice, so he started putting together a plate. Steven was chattering on about the things he thought you might like, versus the things he thought you wouldn’t like. Every time Marc brought his hand out to grab something off a shelf, one of his alters had something to say about it.

“Steven, I’m sure she’s going to be fine with this. Jake’s right, she hasn’t eaten since yesterday and she hasn’t had anything to drink.” Marc groaned and decided to put a few different options on a tray before walking back to your room.

“Yeah, sure, but what if she doesn’t like something on your little tray there? Hm?”

“Then I’ll make her something else,” Marc was talking softer as he approached your room, “you need to give her a break, you hear me? I know you’re going to want to spend the night with her, and you can, but for now, give it a rest.”

Steven muttered a few choice words in protest, but eventually conceded, knowing that Marc was right. You were spent. When Marc entered the room, he saw you just sitting there, staring at him. Except, as he got closer to you, he realized that you weren’t looking at him at all, you were looking wide-eyed at the tray in his hands. He felt his heart stop in his chest at the sight of you. You had the blanket covering yourself and you hurriedly pulled it to the side, leaving him a flat spot on the mattress to put the tray.

“Here you go honey,” Marc said, putting your meal down in front of you.

“T-thank you, Jake,” you muttered, rushing forward to your plate.

Marc’s stomach sunk. He supposed that to the untrained eye, he and Jake looked identical. They shared a body after all, and you weren’t accustomed to their minor differences in appearance yet. He sat down on the bed while you guzzled your water quickly, gulping it all down within seconds. He assumed that you probably didn’t care who out of the three he was, you were probably just afraid of the consequences if you didn’t say thank you.

“Woah,” he chuckled, taking the cup from you when you were finished. He held it in his hands and looked at you, “I’m actually Marc.”

“I’m sorry, I t-thought…oh no please don’t-”

“You’re okay,” he said, recognizing the look of panic boiling up inside of you, “just eat, please.”

Marc exhaled a small sigh of relief when you took a small bite of a cracker on your plate. He walked to the other side of the room and opened the only door without a thumbprint reader, the bathroom. Inside the bathroom he filled up the glass with more water from the tap. When he looked in the mirror he saw Steven staring back.

“We have a deal, Steven. We don’t interfere with each other’s time,” Marc spoke in a harsh whisper so you wouldn’t hear.

“Alright, yeah, sorry mate, just wanted to get a look s’all,” he said.

Marc knew that Steven might become a problem. While Marc and Jake shared the same unhealthy obsession as the other, Steven’s infatuation felt a little deeper, a little more…unhinged than the other two. Marc walked back and forth to the bathroom three times to get you more water before you were satisfied. He watched you carefully while you nibbled on your food, but you only ate enough to feed a small child.

“Baby, come on. I need you to eat more than that,” he urged, picking up a grape in his fingers, “please.”

“I don’t want to. I want to go home,” you turned away from him, “it’s probably poisoned anyway right?”

“Oh…no!” Marc spoke in a gentle but very concerned tone. He pushed the tray aside and touched your shoulder softly, “no we would never-”

You winced when his fingers brushed over the bite that Jake had left behind. Marc felt a pang of guilt. Fuck, he thought. They were destroying you. Your spirit, your body, your soul. He thought about opening the doors right then and there and letting you go, but that thought alone made him feel like his heart might stop beating in his chest if he did. No. You leaving wasn’t an option…so he was just going to have to make you learn to love them, and love living there.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, but hey, when we tell you to do something, it’s for your own good, okay?” Marc felt relief when you turned back to face him, “there you go. Can you please eat something for me?”

He picked up the grape in his fingers again and brought it to your lips. Marc felt the weight fall off his shoulders when you opened your pretty, plump lips and let him drop the grape inside. You chewed, and he watched. You felt uncomfortable with him feeding you, but you also didn’t think you’d have the mental strength to continue feeding yourself. In some twisted way, you were grateful.

Marc immediately felt good inside. As if each grape he gave you chipped away at the guilt he’d harbored after they took you. It helped that there were a few times when your lips sucked his finger as he pulled it back. He felt his pants get tight around his groin while he fed you more. He’d told Steven you needed a break, but he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stick to that himself. He hadn’t even had you yet. Jake and Steven were getting to have all the fun. He reminded himself of his goal though. With time, he’d win you over, and you’d eventually grow excited just from the sight of him. That day would be a dream come true.

“Thank you,” you said softly, once the grapes were all gone.

Marc brushed a thumb over your cheek, “I think Steven will be back again later. He has a hard time with…portion control.”

“I don’t think I can take more, really I-”

“Take this when he comes in,” Marc held out a small pill, “it will help you feel more relaxed.”

“You’re drugging me?” You asked, furrowing your brow at the small tablet in between his fingers.

“No, I’m handing you a drug. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but it might help,” he said, holding it out in his palm.

You eyed the small pill before you took it and put it on the end table next to our bed. Marc gave you a forced smirk in an attempt to reassure you that everything would be alright before he grabbed the tray of half-eaten food and left you alone. From the way he felt Steven buzzing with excitement earlier when he was in the bathroom, he only hoped that you would heed his advice, or you were in for a night of pain.

----

When the time came, you were grateful for the little pill Marc had given you. Steven walked in later that night and you hardly stirred. He wanted to look at your face this time while he fucked you, since the last two times he’d taken you was from behind. While he climbed over you, he couldn’t help noticing that you were more limp than usual, less responsive to his presence. Marc knew he wasn’t supposed to interfere with Steven’s time, but he could feel the panic coursing through him.

“Steven, just relax alright? She’s fine, I just gave her a little something to help with the pain.”

“Pain…are you hurtin’, love?” Steven’s eyebrows were stitched together with concern.

“Mm,” you murmured, “yes.”

You weren’t sleepy, not yet, but you were simply feeling a sense of comfort over your entire body, like you were laying in a cloud. Your head felt a little foggy, but the pain that Jake had caused earlier over your whole body, and the throbbing that you’d felt between your legs, subsided.

“I’m going to help you give her what she needs okay? Just do exactly what I say.” Marc said gently.

“Yeah, alright,” Steven licked his lips and nodded, “gonna give you a treat tonight darling.”

Steven lined his fat tip up with your hole, sliding it between your folds and collecting the juices there. He couldn’t believe you were so wet and ready for him. Even through the sedative, you felt a sharp pain at your swollen and tender entrance. You winced, grabbing the sheets to brace yourself. You were so weak, your grip was meaningless, but you did it anyway out of instinct.

“There’s no way around it, it’s gonna hurt, but at least spit on it a little, get yourself nice and slick all over for her.”

Steven obeyed Marc’s orders, drawing a glob of spit together and dropping it down over his thick cock. He stroked it over himself, coating his length until it was slippery and glossy. Steven moaned, already desperate to feel your cunt again. Of all the things Steven enjoyed in life, nothing made him feel the way your body did. There was simply no comparison.

“That’s good, just like that, okay.”

You were glad you couldn’t feel the full force of the pain when Steven stretched you out over his girth once again. He shuddered forward, dropping both hands on either side of your head. Your eyes were half open, and in your drugged state you were able to convince yourself that he was a little handsome. He snapped his hips forward, filling you full to the hilt.

“Don’t like how little she’s movin’, looks like she might fall asleep,” he muttered quietly in between his grunts.

You wondered why he was talking as if you weren’t there. Maybe he was crazy. A person had to be crazy to kidnap and rape someone, right? It didn’t matter, the drug you took made everything feel a little better, a little more numb, and you didn’t have the mental capacity to think about it. He could talk to all the voices he wanted to, you could hardly feel a thing, and you felt your eyelids desperately wanting to close.

“Steven, if you’re going to keep fucking her a hundred times a day, she needs a break,” Marc scolded.

Steven grumbled and sat back, looking down to see the way you split over his cock. He could see what Marc was talking about. Your poor cunt was swollen around him. Your pussy lips were puffy, clearly aching, and Steven felt a little guilty. You were so wet though, so you must’ve liked it at least a little. Marc didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.

“Y’know I don’t mean to hurt you, right love? S’not my fault you feel so good. Can’t help myself.”

His voice sounded wrecked while he continued fucking into your near lifeless body. He was glad that at least your cunt was reacting to his movements. He could feel you soft walls clenching down around him every time he rolled his hips forward, hitting the furthest point of your channel.

“Alright buddy, need you to listen to me. Take your thumb and start rubbing her clit. I know you’ve done this before, but let me tell you what to say. She seems to like when you say certain things.”

Steven globbed another ball of spit onto your clit and then started rubbing the pad of his thumb over it. He trembled when your walls fluttered over his girth. He saw your weak body arch into his touch, and that made him feel relieved. You were still right there, still warm and responsive, regardless of the drugged state you were in. Marc started coaching Steven, and the words coming out of his mouth fell like honey washing over you. It was amazing that some simple verbiage could make your body yearn the way it did.

“Look how pretty you are, love. I know it hurts, but you’re doing so good for us.” Steven started moving faster, the words were as encouraging for him as they were for you.

You groaned, a little from the pain, and a little from the pleasure. Steven, felt your cunt flutter around him with every rough and intentional thrust. Regardless of how sore you might be, it was clear that you were enjoying yourself, at least a little. He let out a shaky breath while Marc continued to urge him on from the headspace.

“You’re doing good Steven. Look how pretty she is. Fuck, she takes us so well doesn’t she?” He was watching, marveling in the way your beautiful and tired eyes stayed trained on Steven’s.

“Yeah, you’re stunning darling, f-fuck.” Steven could hardly contain himself, “that feeling good, love? Tell me, please say somethin’.”

You pressed your lips together as best as you could, and tried to hum out a positive response. Hardly a noise came out, and you felt your eyelids close heavily.

Steven noticed immediately when you weren’t awake anymore. He was pissed, to put it lightly. This wasn’t how he liked you. He liked your whines and cries filling the room. He liked to know that he was the one making you feel good, and now he was stuck fucking your sleeping body. It wasn’t like he didn’t love the way you felt even when you slept, his cock still twitched inside of you regardless and he certainly wasn’t going to stop, but he preferred it when you were awake. He reached out and grabbed your jaw, trying to shake you awake.

“C’mon love, wake up. Not done with you yet.” Steven thrust forward faster. You still felt so fucking good. How could someone be so perfect they felt that good even while they slept?

“Didn’t think she’d actually fall asleep. Sorry Steven I-”

“Shut the fuck up Marc,” Steven growled, “you leave her alone understand?”

Steven picked you up with ease before swapping positions, putting himself on his back and you on top of him, never letting his cock slide out of your slick cunt. You didn’t stir in the slightest, you were just a limp carcass splayed over his chest. He grabbed the other side of your head and brought your cheek to his lips. You’d never hear the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear gently while he bucked his hips upward roughly.

“Sorry darling, so sorry you can’t feel me like you should right now. Oh but you-you feel so-you still feel so good.” Steven knew that you wanted him, that Marc had taken this feeling away from you by drugging you. “Not gonna let him do that to you again.”

You couldn’t hear him huffing sharply in your ear while his orgasm approached. Marc had fallen silent, which Steven appreciated. He didn’t want Marc interfering during his time with you anyway. This was his time. Not to mention, what did he need Marc’s advice for anyway? Steven knew how to pleasure you just fine. He’d succeeded to make you come every time he fucked you. Marc didn’t know. Marc still hadn’t felt you yet.

He hadn’t felt how soft your cunt was when it squeezed down on their cock when you were coming; He hadn’t heard the way you whimpered while being fucked relentlessly, and he hadn’t felt what it was like to shoot their hot spent into your channel, overflowing you and feeling it spill out the sides. Steven felt that now while he nearly cried from the way his body shook as he emptied himself inside of you once again.

----

It went on like that for a little while. You weren’t sure how much time had gone by after a few days in that house. Steven and Jake had voted to keep you off drugs, to which Marc reluctantly agreed, being outvoted by the rest of the system. Despite not being drugged, you were incredibly tired, and in addition, sore, and mentally unstimulated, staring at the same four walls every day. There was nothing to do other than sleep, eat, and be a real life sex toy for the three brothers who all insisted on making your life a living hell.

You still wanted to go home.

While Steven agreed that you were probably sore, and in need of a break, he still struggled to keep himself off of you. Most nights, when he was certain the other two weren’t present, he would sneak into your room and fuck you from behind. You’d stopped fighting, and instead tried your best to enjoy it. It was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not, so you figured it was best to try and get something out of it.

This only served to feed Steven’s delusion that you were happy to be there with them. Every moan from your lips was a solid reassurance that he was giving you something you enjoyed, and every time you grabbed onto him or arched your back against his chest, he thought that was your attempt at intimacy. He fucking loved you so much. You could probably slap him and he’d think you were just playing around.

They all loved you, but Marc was the only one who showed you love in a way that you understood, or that at least seemed, dare you say, somewhat normal. He hadn’t fronted in a while, letting Steven and Jake have their fun, but it was his turn. You were beaten up, and he felt that sharp stab of guilt in his gut over it. Your face was still beautiful as ever, but your body was banged up and bitten. Your poor cunt was puffy and raw. You were dirty, tired, and clearly aching all over.

He had something for you hidden from your view behind his back as he drew closer to the bed. You thought it might be something he would use to hurt you like the others, despite not having hurt you thus far. You didn’t know what else these men were capable of, and maybe he was going to join in and start throwing you around too. You shifted further away as he approached, sitting on the other side of the bed with the blanket pulled up to your chin.

“How are you feeling baby?” Marc said, sitting down at the edge of the bed, keeping a healthy distance from you.

You were clutching your blanket to yourself tightly. You didn’t say a word, you only stared. Marc had noticed that you’d become less talkative as the week went on. Jake’s methods seemed to be working to tame you, making you more meek and obedient. It wasn’t their intention to change who you were, not at all. They loved you for you, but they needed you to stop fighting, and start behaving, and you were already getting so much better. Marc thought you should be rewarded.

“Here,” he pulled the gift out from behind his back.

It was a stuffed lamb, like someone might give to a child. You frowned at it, confused as to why he would be giving you something so juvenile. It was soft and plush, and something about it made you feel a huge wave of comfort the longer you looked it over.

“You don’t like it.” He looked disappointed. “I was hoping that you might be able to hold onto it when Steven isn’t giving you breaks or when–”

You snatched the lamb from Marc’s hands and pulled it in close. It was just as comforting as you thought it would be when you brought it to your chest. The soft fabric of the wool against your breasts was soothing. You felt silly finding so much solace in something as childish as a stuffed animal, but given your situation, you stopped caring how it might look to anyone else. You needed any little bit of mental reprieve you could get right now..

“Thank you, Marc,” you said, just as Jake had trained you to.

Marc felt a sense of pride swell through his chest when you took the stuffed animal from him. He wasn’t sure you would like it, but there you were, clutching it against yourself like it was a lifeline. It was at that point he noticed the dried and crusted blood on your collarbone, chest, and various other places where Jake had bitten your precious body. He reached out, but you flinched back.

“I’m not going to hurt you honey, I just need you to come with me. Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up.” He held his hand out to you.

You hesitated, but ultimately you conceded, putting your new stuffed toy down and taking his hand, letting him walk you to the bathroom. His mind was buzzing watching you walk, stepping light as a feather while he guided you. When he looked at you, he felt like you were like a perfect little doll.

“Go ahead and sit there on the toilet, let me get this started for you.”

You wondered if they’d stocked up on bath products while you were sleeping, or if you maybe weren’t the first woman they’d taken. You thought about asking him, but decided you didn’t really want to know. You also didn’t want your words getting twisted against you, as they often did. Knowing them, they’d start thinking you were jealous of past women who had walked in your shoes. He filled the bath with suds, salts, and oils. It smelled lovely, if you were being honest.

He thought he might bathe with you, work on soothing some of your wounds and making you feel more comfortable. He also hadn’t spent any time with you, not really, since you’d arrived. Marc let the water run over his hand, making sure it wasn’t too hot for your tender and beaten skin. Once the tub was full, he pulled off his shirt.

“Go ahead, get in the tub,” Marc gestured to the bath.

When you realized that he was getting undressed, you froze. You couldn’t take anymore, in fact, you wouldn’t take anymore. Your cunt was aching just looking at his bare torso. Against your better judgment, you bolted for the door, knowing that you needed to get away from the impending pain. You ran to the only exit, slamming your hand against the door and tugging on the handle wildly. Although you knew your thumbprint wouldn’t work on the lock-pad, having tried it several times before, you tried it again anyway, slamming the pad of your thumb against the reader. You felt the panic rising in your chest while you kept wiggling the handle.

Why did you do this? You thought. If you weren’t in trouble before…

“Honey,” you heard from behind you, “come on.” He sounded so calm.

Marc felt grateful that Jake and Steven weren’t watching when you made your foolish attempt at escape. He wasn’t going to hold it against you, he understood you were in pain and you were afraid, but he couldn’t speak for the other two. He knew that Steven had intense jealousy, and Jake was…Jake. You turned around, eyes wide with terror. Marc put his arms out, exposing his bare chest to you, an attempt to show that he meant you no harm.

Your eyes scoured his body, stopping at the clear bulge under his jeans. You pressed your lips together tightly, doing your best to keep yourself from crying again. For someone trying to act defiant and brave, you were failing miserably. Your knees were shaking while you stood there, staring at the broad chested man. You gulped and then collapsed to the floor in a heap of sobs. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, so you just kept your eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me-please!” Your entire body was trembling. “It just hurts so much. It hurts,” you sobbed.

Marc walked over and stood over your tiny frame, curled onto the floor like you were waiting for him to hurt you. He knelt down and put a gentle hand on your back. When it became clear that you weren’t going to get back up he groaned and scooped you up into his arms. Clearly you’d conceded to your fate, burying your face into his neck and wetting the skin there with your tears.

You didn’t open your eyes again until you felt him lowering you into the tub slowly. The water was hot but soothing. It felt nice against the wounds you’d received, and it felt as if your entire body exhaled in relief. Despite the fear still coursing through you, you felt a small moment of reprieve from the horror. You saw him, even through the blur of your tears, as he unbuttoned his jeans. He pulled both his pants and boxer-briefs down and toed them off.

He watched you gulp and shy away to the furthest point of the tub that you could. You had your arms covering your chest, but that didn’t matter to him. He had no intention of sleeping with you, he just wanted to make you feel good, and make you feel better about being there with them. Making you love them, genuinely and truly, might be the single most difficult thing he would ever do, but he would do it. He slowly got into the tub and watched you turn your head to the wall, avoiding his gaze entirely.

“Come here baby, let me at least wash you.” He put a hand on your shoulder.

You pulled your shoulder away, splashing some water up in the process.

“I can wash myself,” you muttered.

“Let me clean you up, and I’ll make you feel good too honey, please, you deserve it after how good you’ve been.” He urged.

You finally looked at him, sniffling and wiping away a tear, “but I wasn’t good, I just tried to run-”

“I didn’t see anything,” he said abruptly, cutting off your confession.

You furrowed your brow in confusion, until you realized that he was going to keep your little, and unsuccessful, attempt between the two of you. It gave you a small sense of comfort that he was going to protect you, if only a little, from the other’s wrath should they ever find out about your misbehavior. With that understanding, and considering the gift he’d brought you just a little while ago, you felt, in some twisted way, indebted to him. You finally gave in, sliding over to him in the tub.

“There you go,” he pulled you into his lap.

His stomach electrified with excitement while he pulled you over to sit with him. You were straddling him with a knee on either side of his thighs, arms still covering your chest. He couldn’t help the way his cock prodded underneath you, looking for a place to bury itself. When he’d drawn the bath for you, he hadn’t intended to fuck you, not at all, but he was quickly realizing how foolish it was for him to think he could resist you. Your knees clenched on either side of his legs when he grabbed your hips tightly, lining you up with his bulbous tip.

“P-please.” You looked at him, eyes big with desperation for mercy, “it hurts so much.”

“I know, but if you just sit on it, you’ll get more used to the size, okay? The more you let us loosen you up, the less it will hurt. I promise.” He cupped your cheek in his other hand, “I won’t move, just lower yourself down on me. Take your time.”

As Marc had hoped, giving you the freedom to set the pace encouraged you to do it on your own. He didn’t want to have to force you, so he was grateful when you showed your willingness to comply. You were slow, and he willed his hips to remain stationary while you rose up a little on your knees, getting it lined up perfectly. His breath was shaky while he felt you start to settle over it, lowering yourself painstakingly slowly.

“That’s it baby, just like that. Oh my-fuh-you’re so damn tight-shit.”

His hand was squeezing roughly on your hip, and somehow you managed not to pull away. Marc wondered if that meant you were getting more adjusted to the pain. Now he could see why Steven was so obsessed with keeping his dick buried deep inside of you as much as possible. Nothing in Marc’s entire life felt so fucking good. He let out a choked sound while burying his face into your sternum, resting both hands on your hips.

“There-there you go-fuck.” He sucked back the saliva that threatened to fall from his lips.

You lowered yourself completely so you were sitting on him, and he was keeping his promise to remain still. That didn’t stop his cock from pulsating inside of you while you rested there. He looked up at you, mouth slackjaw and eyes hooded with arousal. Under different circumstances you might find yourself attracted to him. Instead you were frightened by the sight of him, quickly tucking your face into his neck so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Let me look at you honey. Gotta clean up the marks that Jake left,” he was trying to keep himself level headed, but his voice was rough and wrecked.

You sat back and looked at him. You heard a low roll in his chest accompanied by a twitch of his cock inside of you at the sensation. He looked at your skin with concern stitched in his furrowed brow. He touched one of the bite marks just above your collarbone. You winced and hissed back, reaching a hand up to cover it. Marc let out a breathy rasp at the feeling of you shifting on his member, but he brushed it aside and concentrated on your ailments once more. Marc’s brow turned up. If “I’m sorry,” had a face, it was etched on his expression in that moment.

“I’ll take care of you, okay? You know they only hurt you because they care, right?” He grabbed a soft cloth from the side of the tub and started to wet it in the warm bath water.

You shook your head, “you’re all horrible,” another tear slipped down your face.

“I know it feels that way right now, but if you just relax, and let us take care of you, then you’ll see…everything we do is because we love you.” He touched the towel to your wound, forcing another pained gasp from you, “I’ll always take care of you honey.”

“This isn’t love, it’s insanity,” you corrected him.

You weren’t wrong, it was insane, and Marc knew that, but wasn’t love itself a little crazy? The idea that this unseen thing could bind people so deeply…at least it sounded insane when Marc considered it. You had your eyes closed tightly while he continued to clean you. His arm brushed over your nipple accidentally and he felt your cunt flutter softly in response. He looked up at you, and you finally opened your eyes.

Beautiful.

Without words, he covered your right nipple in his mouth. He was still managing to keep himself from thrusting, despite wanting to so, so desperately. If he could get your sweet cunt to do that again though…oh it felt so fucking good. You let out a quiet and breathy moan. Marc cupped your breast up so he could flick over the peak while looking into your eyes. You still looked like you were in so much pain.

“Relax honey, just enjoy yourself, that’s the only thing you need to do.”

His voice was soothing against your ears. You hated it. You hated that you enjoyed listening to him say nice things to you, you hated that his cock felt good filling you up the way it did, and you hated that you wanted him to put his mouth back over your tit and suck harder. You hated all of it.

“I know you’re still trying to deny your feelings, I understand.” He said as though he’d read your mind. He brushed the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. “The second you give yourself over to us, is when it will all start to feel better. I promise.”

You shook your head, “never gonna give in to you…fucking pigs.”

Marc loved you. He really loved you, but you struck a nerve calling them pigs. He was trying so hard to be patient and kind to you. Didn’t you see that he was the only chance you had at any sort of peace from the otherwise brutal nature the other two harbored? Jake was going to continue to bite and spank you until you were more obedient, and Steven was going to fuck you until their cock fell off, but Marc…Marc was going to be a paradise from all that, and you were being so fucking rude.

He grabbed your jaw in his strong hand, “I’m not the bad guy here honey.” His voice was gruff and raspy while he spoke through clenched teeth, “I’ve been nothing but fucking nice to you, but I can start to be real mean if you want me to be.”

You looked at him with nothing but fear in your eyes. You tried to wriggle away, but his hand on your hip was firm, and the grip on your jaw tightened. Marc breathed out a heavy moan, feeling the way your cunt slid over him in your attempt to get away from. It was intoxicating, the feeling of your walls clenching over his girth. He didn’t thrust, he didn’t, he just slowly pushed your hip down while rolling his own hips upward. It was so slow it could hardly be considered moving, but he felt it.

So did you, and you were ashamed to admit that it felt good. You weren’t going to fuck him, you weren’t, but if you tried to get away from him, surely he’d have to pull you back down…right? You struggled again, trying to get away from him, sliding up to the tip of his length, but he pulled you in tighter, shoving his cock deep into you again. You whined in response, trying to keep yourself from rocking your hips against him. Was there any harm in giving in like he’d suggested? If you were stuck there anyway…

“Fuck honey, can’t hold it in anymore,” he said in a low growl.

Any promise he’d made was tossed out the window as his orgasm took over. He was grunting loud, thrusting harshly upward into your cunt, splitting you open wider one snap of his hips at a time. You held onto him tight, nails digging into his shoulders roughly. A gasp fell from your lips. It hurt being fucked like that again. This time you didn’t even come, and it was clear he was going to make sure you didn’t get that privilege.

“Only good girls get to come,” he said as he came down from his orgasm.

When he was finished using you like the other two often did, he lifted you off his cock and put you down in the tub. It was for the best that you didn’t get to come, at least, that’s what you told yourself while he finished washing you. The ache between your legs was screaming for attention, but you were still determined to keep your composure, not wanting to give in to it. When you were done being washed, you got out of the tub, dried off and walked back to your bed.

Marc didn’t say anything else to you. He was trying to decide how he wanted to approach the situation. He was angry with you and your continued defiance. Maybe he was being too easy on you. Maybe Jake was right in his approach. Marc tried not to be so angry with you, but didn’t you see that he was just trying to love you? It would be so easy for you if you’d just stop fighting and let them treat you like the princess they thought you to be. He’d hoped you would be further along by then, it being a week in already, but it would seem he was mistaken.

You could tell he was upset, and fear coursed through your veins. What if he decided to punish you like Jake did? What if he told Jake about your disobedience? This didn’t look good for you, so you did the only thing you could think of to make him happy. Regardless of whether or not you wanted to avoid him wrongly thinking you were content with your life there, this was about survival.

Marc was about to press his thumb to the thumb print reader by the door when he heard you get off the bed. You grabbed his arm, your fingertips sent an electric current through him where they touched his skin. You looked at him with those big, beautiful eyes he loved so much. They looked like they were twinkling.

“I’m sorry, Marc,” you tried to appear as sincere as possible while looking longingly into his deep brown eyes. “Please don’t let them hurt me, please. I shouldn’t have said that.”

His face slowly lit up, changing from his angry furrowed brow to a softer expression. You felt stiff as you stepped back, eyes darting between his in the hopes that your plea worked. You felt disgusted with yourself, not wanting to make him think you favored him in the slightest, but you didn’t see another option. Your bites and bruises ached just at the thought of Jake’s ‘lessons’.

Marc cupped your cheek, sighing and looking at you affectionately “there’s my good girl. I left you a little something in the stuffed lamb I got you. Just don’t tell the other two, okay?”

You nodded slowly, “thank you,” you gulped, “t-thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome baby.”

----

Inside the lamb, behind the velcro opening, you’d found a small vibrator tucked away in the stuffing. No, you’d thought immediately, refusing at first to let yourself fall into any sort of comfort from the pleasure you knew it would bring you. Marc would be so happy if he thought you were using your vibrator that he got you. He’d think you were becoming more content with your life. You couldn’t let any of them think anything like that.

You kept up that way of thinking, that you were above using such a thing, until Steven was on top of you again, mouthing hungrily at your neck, leaving marks of his own on you. It hurt still, the ache of your hole getting stretched multiple times a day and being filled with copious amounts of his and Jake’s cum. It was getting easier, but the pain was there nonetheless. Marc seemed to keep himself from partaking in what the other two had no qualms in having as much as they could.

It had been two days since your bath, since you'd received the vibrator, and you knew they’d be back soon. They seemed to be out of the house most nights. It had been hours that you were alone and it was getting late. An idea struck you suddenly, a thought that you might be able to dull the ache in some way, assuming they’d want to take you when they got back. The vibrator stuck out when you opened the back of the lamb. It was bright pink against the white stuffing. You pulled it out, and turned it on. It was loud and the vibration was strong. If you could make yourself wet enough, it might hurt less when they had their way with you later.

That was the logic behind you laying back on your bed, legs spread out wide with the strong vibration resting on your clit. It was hard to feel grateful for Marc’s kindness, considering he was part of the reason you were there, one of three parts to be exact, but while you pleasured yourself you couldn’t help thinking of him a little.

You thought about how gentle he was with you in the tub, letting you lower yourself over his cock. He wasn’t like Steven, taking you no matter how hard you cried. Marc was different, but you wondered if that was what made him the most dangerous. He could be the one to make you start getting comfortable, so you vowed to yourself that you’d stay strong, no matter how soft he was with you, or how good he could make you feel.

While you were enjoying your moment of self love, Steven was fighting. They usually fought at night, but at this point Steven was normally home. It seemed to him like there was an influx of crime recently, or maybe he only felt that way because now he had something waiting for him at home and the losers on the streets were keeping him away from you. Either way, doing things the “humane” way was taking too long.

If the fact that he was dependent on Marc, Steven and Jake wasn’t enough, the second reason that Khonshu didn’t care that they were doing something so immoral, was that Steven turned to killing to speed things up. He found that ending the villains who terrorized the streets gave him the ability to finish their work faster, so they could get back to you sooner. Jake liked it too, it meant he and Marc could start killing again without hearing the constant nag of Steven’s good conscience judging him relentlessly.

Your vibe was so loud you didn’t even hear the door unlock. Steven walked in, love-dumb smile plastered on his face until he realized what you were doing. You gasped when you saw him, quickly switching off the toy, sitting up and staring at him wide-eyed. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks immediately while the two of you looked at each other unmoving.

“What a’you doin’ love?”

His white suit was covered all over in blood spatter. You tried to hide the vibrator quickly, as though you weren’t just seconds from mind numbing ecstasy, but he wasn’t dumb. The look on his face turned to one of utter betrayal as he charged forward. You flinched, covering your face in your hands and making yourself as small as possible. He grabbed the pink, plastic thing in his hand.

“Oh no. No, no, no, what is this?” He held up the toy in his hand, turning it around and inspecting it. “Who gave you this? Hm?”

“Steven, calm down, I just gave it to her as an act of goodwill, it’s not a big-“

“Marc…” an annoyed laugh escaped him, sending a chill through your body, “I should’ve known.”

Steven was pissed, to put it lightly. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks while he tried to keep his composure. He looked down at it, and then back at you. This was unacceptable. How could you do something like that to him? He was right there ready to please you any time you needed. He was a warm body, he knew what you liked, and you would choose this thing over him?

“Look at me…” he spoke coldly.

Knowing the punishment would be worse if you didn’t, you removed your hands from your face and looked at him. You wiped the tears from your eyes, seeing him now standing over you with an abnormally enraged expression. His usual soft and loving gaze was filled with fury, forcing terror to pool in your gut.

“Love, why would you ever use something like this? Huh? What do you need this for when you’ve got me?” His expression shifted, he looked hurt.

“I’m sorry, please I’m so sorry I thought it was okay because-“

“It’s not!” He shouted, forcing you to flinch. “S’not ok. I’m better than any piece of fuckin’ plastic aren’t I? Don’t I make you feel good?”

Now you were starting to understand why Marc told you to keep your little toy a secret. You’d never seen Steven so upset, so angry. This was an anger born from deep betrayal, he was hurt. Knowing that he was probably going to bring Jake in to punish you, you decided to be proactive to show your willingness to behave. You could only hope that he would spare you.

Steven, despite his frustration with you, felt the nagging of arousal in his pants as your gaze fell on his groin. Your little hand reached up and brushed over the fabric covering his bulge, involuntarily Steven’s hips moved forward, chasing your touch. You looked up at him with those big eyes, desperation etched in every pore of your face.

“Darling,” Steven’s face softened a little. He cupped your chin roughly in his gloved, bloody hand. “I love you with all my heart, but you’ve really disappointed me today. I need you to know that.”

You felt the panic rushing through your body in a wave. With trembling hands you reached for the button of his pants, but he stepped back. Was he not going to let you please him? Was he not going to let you apologize in the way you knew he’d like? He must’ve been furious with you, more angry than you’d originally anticipated.

“No, no, no…if you think this thing is so wonderful, maybe I ought to give it a go, yeah?” Steven’s lips were curled into a frown, “you just sit there, and watch, and if I see you look elsewhere, we’re going to have an even bigger problem, love.”

He kept the vibrator in his hand while he undid his pants and pushed them down to his mid-thigh. His fat cock bounced as it was freed from the confines of his boxer-briefs. You gulped, watching him intently. You were determined to behave, not wanting to incite more anger from him than you already had. He turned on the toy, and the loud hum filled the room once more.

“There, let’s see what’s so special about this bloody thing.” He pressed it to the underside of his cock and immediately you saw his body tense. “Oh shit.”

“Steven, what's the plan?” Marc asked, tone riddled with nervousness, knowing that Steven could be unpredictable if provoked, “I’m not gonna let you hurt her, you need to just calm down.”

“Well love, this does feel rather good, I wouldn’t lie to you.” He kept his darkened eyes on you. “Doesn’t feel as good as your warm little cunt though.”

Steven was getting hot so he removed his coat quickly and brought the vibe back to his cock. He slid it back and forth from his balls to his leaking head. The slit in his tip was dripping so much there was a small wet spot on the floor below. You were watching like he’d demanded, and he could see you pressing your legs together tightly.

There was a burning in your groin. The sound of the vibrator mixed with the sight of Steven’s weeping erection was forcing your own arousal to build. You…you wanted him. There was no way you’d admit it, but you could feel it like an itch demanding to be scratched. You needed to feel his cock filling you again. Out of everything you’d been through, that feeling alone was what scared you the most. The moment you became content in your situation was the moment that you signed yourself over to this place being your future. You couldn’t let that happen.

“It’s my fault she has that thing in the first place, just let her apologize and move on.”

Steven was tuning him out and instead put all his focus on the delicious feeling of the vibe rolling over his length. Nothing would replace the way your warm, wet walls made him feel, but this did feel good. He saw you shifting uncomfortably, and he recognized that look in your eye.

“Oh, look at…ah-damn…look at you. I can see how worked up you’re getting darling.” He wiped away some spit that dribbled onto his chin. “Bet you’d like to feel me now, yeah?”

The feeling of the vibrator was causing his cock to twitch.

“You better teach her well amigo, teach her like I do.” Jake murmured.

Against your better judgment, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You needed some friction between your legs. You tried to be inconspicuous, bringing both of your hands to your tightly clenched thighs, making it look like you were just cold and trying to warm your hands.

Steven wasn’t stupid.

He snickered, “oh, you look rather pathetic right now don’t you?” He groaned, hips still churning over the noisy toy. “So needy, but you don’t get to have your way. You don’t get to hurt me like you did and still get to feel good.”

He stepped forward on shaking legs and wrapped his fingers around your throat. Steven felt you gulp underneath his palm. You brought both hands to his forearm, holding tightly. You had a beautiful look of terror in your eyes that brought him right to the edge. He squeezed tighter.

“I’m going to come love. I’m gonna-and then-I’m-you’re gonna-mm-so pretty-so pretty-ahh!”

You watched as Steven’s head fell back and thick white ropes spilled from the slit of his head. He was holding the vibrator in a way that most of his spend landed on the plastic casing. His body twitched when the feeling became oversensitive. He pulled the vibe off his length. Steven looked back down at you, face softer than before now that he was satisfied. He looked at the toy in his hand and then at you once more.

“Open your mouth, love.”

Steven watched as you slowly parted your precious lips. He put the vibe in your mouth, rolling it over your tongue.

“Clean it all up darling, be good f’me now. Maybe if you do well I’ll be less harsh when I give you your lesson…maybe.”

You closed your mouth over the toy, bobbing your head to collect every bit of cum that he coated it with. You parted your lips again, showing him that you were willing to drag your tongue over every bit to do a good job. You even leaned forward, taking the stray bits that had landed on his bloody glove into your mouth and swallowing. When you looked up at him, he seemed more than pleased.

“Wow, you’re absolutely perfect, love. I know this was an honest mistake right? You didn’t mean to upset me.”

“Of course not, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, Steven.” You hoped the pleading look was enough to help him understand how apologetic you truly were.

“Oh my sweet darling.” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “I love you more than anything, and I truly wish that I could just let it go, but…” you watched, dumbfounded, as Steven took the toy between his two hands and snapped as though it were a thin little twig, “…I still have to teach you a lesson, are you going to be good f’me now?”

Your bottom lip quivered when you thought about how upset Marc would be when he saw you’d failed to keep your little secret from the other two. You wondered if he would want to punish you too. Of course you hadn’t meant to get caught with it, and you didn’t realize that Steven would’ve been so upset if he saw you using it. Running wasn’t an option now, it never was, so you saw no other choice than to nod and obey Steven’s commands.

“Yes,” you nodded, “I’ll…I’ll be good.”

A sadistic grin spread over his face. You watched him roll his sleeves up just above his elbows on either side. He walked over to the foot of the bed, you rotated to keep your front facing him at all times. One of his hands rested on his hips and he beckoned you forward.

“Come.”

You didn’t like being called like a dog, but you obeyed anyway, crawling to the edge of the mattress and then sitting back on your heels. Steven looked satisfied with your willingness to follow his instructions so far, though he’d only asked for so little. You were trying to stop your body from shaking but you couldn’t.

“Turn around and get on all fours.” He demanded.

No good could come from turning your back on him. At least when you faced him you could see the blows coming. Steven had never hurt you, nor had he ever treated you this way, so you weren’t sure what to expect. You turned slowly, propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You then felt something cold and metal touch your right side. You flinched away, but Steven had a firm grip on your left hip, holding you in place.

“Now, I won’t lie to you my love, this is gonna hurt…probably a lot…but it’s the only way you’ll learn.” You felt a soft tap on your rear from the metal, “move forward a bit, make room f’me.”

You complied, and then felt the bed shift behind you. It felt like he was playing with a steel pole on your back, rolling it from your shoulders all the way back to your rear like a massage tool. It felt nice, but you knew it was only temporary. The next time you felt the pole it was painful, striking against your left asscheek harshly. You wailed, falling forward onto the bed, feeling sobs start to overwhelm you immediately.

“Come back up here, come on!” Steven was yelling loudly, “not done yet love, don’t make me ask you again, keep yourself up. S’not that bad. I’ve seen Jake do worse.”

You gathered yourself, going back on all fours like he wanted. You saw the stuffed lamb Marc had given you just an arms length in front of you. You reached for it, hoping Steven wouldn’t protest. The plush toy felt comforting as you leaned down and held it close, making sure to still keep your ass in the air. Steven slid his hand over your sore cheek forcing a wince and a hiss from your lips.

“Yes love, hold on tight to that little thing Marc gave you. He’s so nice to you isn’t he? Maybe that’s why you thought you’d get away with somethin’ like this. He’s too soft on you.”

“Someone’s gotta be nice to her. You two don’t give her a chance to fuckin’ breathe,” Marc spoke up in his defense.

Another whack from the metal pole had you screaming and holding onto the stuffed lamb for dear life. You never thought that Steven, out of the three, would be the one to do this to you. Jake made perfect sense, he was dark, cold, and threatening. Marc could be harsh and clearly had a knack for discipline in his own right, but Steven…Steven had always been affectionate, in his own way…until now.

“Wanna hear you say you’re sorry love, tell me how sorry you are for hurtin’ me like that.” He used the baton to hit your side now, right along your ribcage. “Say it,” he spoke in a threatening tone.

“I’m sorry!” You screamed through your sobs, “I’m so sorry!”

“Can see why Jake likes this so much, all those pretty sounds you make…” he forced his cock into you so suddenly that you pushed yourself up on your arms in surprise, “fuckin’ hell. Keep cryin’ darling, keep begging me to-oh my God-keep beggin’ me to stop. Can’t get enough of how it sounds.”

He hit you again. Steven knew he should feel bad, but he couldn’t help the way your pained noises seemed to permeate his ears and peak his arousal. Even more, he was still angry about the vibrator, and wanted to make sure you never thought about betraying him like that again. Your cunt clenched over him the next time he gave you a swift crack against your side. You fell forward again.

“I’m sorry Steven, I mean it. I’ll never touch myself again without your permission, I’ll never do anything like that-ah!” You were interrupted by a blow to the left side.

You felt something warm drop on your lesser used hole. Spit, you thought. He didn’t have to tell you, you knew what he was going to do. The cold pole pressed against your tight ring of muscle. You relaxed, trying to make it less painful, but it didn’t matter how prepared you were, he was going in. You expected to feel nothing but agony when he stuffed the baton into your hole, but to your surprise it felt…good.

Steven noticed the change in you immediately. He felt the way you started to rock your hips back on your own over his cock and the pole he’d pushed deep into your ass. You stopped crying, and your cries were replaced by deep, guttural moans that filled the room. He’d never heard you like this and the sounds excited him more than he could fathom.

“Gonna have to try something like that myself, listen to her…” Jake sounded needy, which Steven didn’t like. It meant his time was running out.

You clutched the bedding in one hand and still held the stuffed toy in the other. His cock filled you up, and the pole made your brain stop functioning almost completely. You’d become so mentally numb that your mouth was stuck gaping and drooling into the lamb.

“Oh darling, that feels good dunnit?”

He didn’t need to hear you say, yes. Your screaming, moaning cry was more than enough to satisfy his question. He looked down, seeing the way your holes were stretched out in their dual penetration made his cock twitch inside of you. He watched your tight rim as it clenched around the pole at the same time your cunt throbbed over his girth. You fell forward again, and when Steven nearly felt himself slip out he’d had enough.

“Alright, open.” He demanded, pulling the pole from your rear.

You whined at the sudden empty feeling. You knew when he said open, he could only be talking about your mouth. You did as you were told, parting your lips. He brought the pole down to your open jaw.

“Cover your pretty little teeth love, or they’re gonna break,” he warned in a dark tone.

He gave you hardly any time to comply before he put the baton in your mouth horizontally and pulled back. He gripped the pole tightly with both hands like handlebars, holding you in place. It gave him the perfect leverage to fuck into you relentlessly without slipping out. This was the most brilliant idea Steven thought he ever had.

“There you go love, made myself a little toy out of you.” His voice was rough while he continued his unforgiving pace. “How do you like that, yeah? You like bein’ my little toy?”

You sobbed, feeling pain in your jaw from the pressure the pole put on you.

“If you choose a stupid-shit-oh-God-stupid toy over me again, I’ll make this pussy into my personal f-fuck toy.” He grunted, pounding harder. “Would you like that? Hm? Treat you like an object instead of the love of my life? Wouldn’t that hurt your feelings darling?”

Despite the agonizing way the pole stretched your lips out, you were close to climax. He was fucking you so hard, and something about the possessive way he called you his toy made your body feel hot. You relaxed into it, finally taking a moment to experience the pleasure of his ownership, and all at once the wave melted over you. Your deep moans filled the room while you came around his thick cock, arching your back as much as you could to feel him deeper.

Steven felt you clenching around him tightly. Your poor body was so weak, he could tell by the way you fell limp so soon after you came. Even with the pole holding you up, you dropped. He tossed it aside with a clank on the floor. Now he was there, sitting back and grabbing your hips tightly, continuing to fuck you roughly. He wondered if you fainted, your body wasn’t moving. It didn’t matter to him, he was going to fill you like you were made to take every last drop of him…and to Steven you were.

His hips came to a stop against your rear, hot white spurts of his seed shot into you. Seeing it fill you up so much it started leaking out the sides was Steven’s greatest pleasure. Your swollen and puffy hole was so beautiful with it split over him he could stare at it for hours. He pulled out of you and watched his spend trickle out onto the bedding. You started to fall over, onto your side, so he let you, now feeling a little concerned with the clarity washing over him.

“Love.” Steven shook you, but you weren’t moving and your eyes remained closed.

“Steven what the hell did you do?” Marc sounded furious.

“Everyone just stay calm, I’m sure she’s f-fine just takin’ a little rest is all…right Jake?” Steven’s body was trembling.

Jake took over, immediately feeling for your pulse. He slumped over, satisfied when the thump of your heart was there. He ran a hand over his face and huffed out a weary sigh. You were just resting, something you clearly needed after everything they continued to put you through. Jake retracted the suit completely, grabbed the broken pieces of the vibrator off the floor and left you in peace.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t really mean to hurt her, I was just…she was just…I mean she made me do it! How could she use that-”

“Enough!” Jake shouted when he got to the living room. He looked in the mirror, a three paneled piece they used so they could all “see” each other while they talked. “She’s been fairly well behaved, despite recent events.” He looked at the panel Steven was occupying. “I think it’s time we discuss giving her some more…freedom…what do you two think?”

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Top Ten Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2023

So I've made reclists for a ton of the Miraculous fics and series I recommend that finished in 2023, but as you may have noticed, those are rather expansive. So I decided to do a ranking of the ten best Miraculous fics from 2023 as well! (at least in my eyes). These naturally trend towards longer fics, though there are some that are on the shorter end. The shortest is under 30,000 words!

A lot of these you could swap around the order on, but the top fic... yeah the top fic is top for a reason.

Some of these fics were really popular, while others are virtually unknown, they run the entire gamut. I hope everyone checks these out though if they haven't already, there's both some hidden gems and some very well recognized gems in here!

All of these were part of earlier reclists that I made. All of those fics are in this collection I set up on AO3 called "Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics of 2023". I really hope everyone checks it out, I've got commentary/reviews for every entry in the collection, and there are over 150 entries!

I'm gonna just be copying the descriptions I wrote for the fics on the earlier reclists, as I wrote those shortly after finishing reading the fics when they were fresh in my mind, and as great as these fics are, I don't have the time nor bandwidth to reread them all.

10.

Found by @trishacollins

Chat Noir and Ladybug need to tie up some loose ends. Unfortunately, one of those ends is Felix.

This is a fantastic fic! It’s part of a wider series wherein Adrien and Felix were friends with Nooroo and Duusu from a younger age, but Adrien’s memory was wiped of it by his parents, but this is the first fic you really need to read. Basically, after the events of Emotion, Chat confronts Felix about what he did, and Felix confesses to being a Sentibeing, and Duusu reveals to Chat that he is one as well, leading to Felix cooperating with the heroes.

Of all the fics I’ve read that tackle the subject, this one does the best job of giving Felix a redemption arc for his actions in the season 4 finale, focusing not only on how he hurt the heroes, but the kwamis. I loved that he truly understood how much he fucked up with the situation he put the kwamis in, how much suffering he put them through, and that the kwamis were allowed to be angry at him for awhile afterwards, to be suspicious and untrusting towards him at first (and that Marinette was allowed to do the same). Felix screwed up and hurt people, and he had to really show that he understood what he did was wrong, why it was wrong, and try to help the people he hurt.

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The Ghost in the Machine by @jheqiawrites

As part of this function, Adrien knew about Monarch, the akuma butterflies, the victims, and, of course Ladybug and Cat Noir, the heroes of Paris. He was authorized to contact the Ladyblog as well as the citywide alert system if one of his platforms was active during an akuma manifestation, allowing his friends to get somewhere safe until Ladybug and Cat Noir could deal with the situation

While the necessity of these functions was disconcerting, it was programmed to be his routine so he gradually grew used to the inconsistencies. After all, humans tended to be selfish, highly inconsistent, and often flighty, but once you had observed them for a while an intelligence such as his could begin to see the patterns.

That is until she came online.

This is just a beautiful, though bittersweet story. I adore how Alliance!Adrien grows and changes throughout the story, how he develops as a person. He starts off not being able to figure out what he’s feeling, needing to make new modules in order to try to process the emotions he has welling up, and not totally understanding his own reactions. But as time goes on he grows and gets a better handle on himself. This isn’t an “evil AI” story, he’s just a person who’s slowly figuring out who he is and how to handle himself.

Not that it’s entirely about Adrien Alliance figuring out his own emotions, there’s other things going on as well. He’s worried about why there seems to be weird surges in the Alliance Network right before akumas attack, for instance, and why the details about the reason for that seem to be hidden from him, making him more paranoid about the Alliance system the more he looks into it...

It’s just... it’s really good and absolutely worth a read.

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Kwami Magi Homura Magica by Crossoverpairinglover

After eighty-four loops in time, Homura Akemi takes a new path to Paris to save her friends.

The sixty-third loop after that, Homura arrived at the Agreste Mansion.

After clash after clash with the heroes of Paris and its greatest menace, events have reached a tipping point.

Ladybug faces someone verging on a second wish, a wish that endangers space and time to save a friend.

This was an absolutely AMAZING story that crossoverpairinglover dropped out of NOWHERE. Seriously, if you like Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Miraculous Ladybug, this is a real treat - but be prepared to sit down and binge, because it’s over 100,000 words and only has three chapters.

Anyway, I adore the care that’s taken with going through Homura’s mindset here, she gets a lot of character focus. And the lore! There’s some good explanations here for the history behind kwamis and Incubators’ interactions, and the Order of the Guardians normally treats Magical Girls, and why the Incubators are wrong in their assessment of the universe needing more energy to stave off entropy (hint: it involves Plagg), and just... there was a lot of love put into this.

And the action! Most Miraculous fics don’t have much in the way of fight scenes, and what they do have is mostly just functional. This is one of the rare exceptions. There’s some really long, detailed fight scenes in this (roughly the entire second half of the second chapter has one between Ladybug and Homura), which are a treat to read!

We also get some glimpses into a variety of other universes here, other timelines, alternate ways things could have gone down - I’m especially partial to the rather detailed view we get of one where Homura sent a message asking for help to the Ladyblog on her third time loop, and how things progressed from there.

The ending I also thought was really good, a happy ending that generally made sense and dealt with the issue of the Incubators.

If you can’t tell I’m really happy with this fic, it was incredible and unexpected. The length of the individual chapters can be daunting, but if you’re up for the task, I highly recommend giving it a shot!

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you made me a hero - reverse crush short stories series by @non-fantasy

This series is just plain fun! Like the title says, it’s a reverse crush AU, so Adrien’s head-over-heels for Marinette, while Ladybug’s smitten with Chat Noir. Which means that Adrien’s constantly trying to woo Marinette while Ladybug’s attempting to have normal conversations with Chat Noir (and failing), and both of them are oblivious to each other’s feelings.

I love the way non-fantasy executes it, with Alya literally carrying around a spray bottle because of how eager Adrien is, and Ladybug being VERY SCARY if you ever lay a finger on Chat Noir (seriously akumas will literally beg for their akumatized object to be broken just to escape her wrath).

Oh, also, Ladybug regularly stops by Adrien’s room so they can both lament how difficult of a time they’re having wooing their crushes, and just have fun together.

There’s a lot of entries in this series - 29 of them in fact - but most of them are pretty short, making it great if you want to devour some quick, cute, hilarious romcom action!

Some stuff does actually change over the course of the series, it’s not just slice-of-life. Like identity reveals, dating, and even Hawkmoth’s defeat, so there’s clear progression and changes in circumstances as well.

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The Parable of the Caller by @nemaliwrites

A week after Hawk Moth’s identity has been revealed, Adrien finds himself with nowhere to go, nothing he can do, and worst of all, strange gaps in his memory he can’t explain. In a stroke of luck, he stumbles upon a burner phone filled with voicemails from one of the Saviors of Paris: Chat Noir himself, who disappeared following Hawk Moth’s arrest.

But with each new voicemail Adrien listens to, he’s forced to confront the fact that there might be some kind of connection between himself and Chat Noir — and discovering it might leave him more broken than before.

I absolutely adore this fic, it’s a fantastic character study for Adrien! Basically in this universe, Ladybug and Chat Noir talked about who should be Guardian, with Chat eventually convincing her that he should be the one to take it on, primarily due to the whole “the Guardian gets amnesia about Miraculous-related matters” situation, and wanting to protect Ladybug from that. Then he finds out Gabriel is Hawk Moth, they take him down, and he relinquishes the Miracle Box and his guardianship to Su Han - all without having a Reveal with Ladybug, since well, he’s not in the greatest shape mentally at the time.

It’s a real treat to see Adrien’s thoughts and feelings about one of the Heroes of Paris leaving him all these voicemails, treating him like this close friend for reasons he doesn’t understand, and just seeing Chat Noir as this outside person. He’s got a very different viewpoint on Chat when looking from the outside than he would from the inside, with being able to see his heroic and good qualities far more easily when he doesn’t know that he is Chat.

Also Marinette’s struggling in the background of the fic with the loss of her partner and guilt over sending Adrien’s father to prison. It gets touched on at various points, and you can tell that she’s having her own story off to the side that we’re just not entirely privy to, what with this tale being told entirely from Adrien’s perspective.

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Dreams of You by @chocoluckchipz

Dreams had long been his only escape. Dreams of Ladybug, the girl who had always been there for him.

If only in his dreams. And only while she was also sleeping.

Because with the first rays of sunshine gliding over her skin, with the first fluttering of her eyelashes, from the moment she opened her eyes in the morning, memories of Adrien would vanish from her mind.

She would go on living her life.

He would always be the only one who remembered.

At least until they meet in the real world and fall in love all over again, something that would’ve been easier to do if Adrien wasn't a prisoner in his own home.

Chocoluckchipz has some of the most beautifully executed lovesquare fics I’ve read, and this is no exception. Most of the fic is dedicated to Adrien wooing Marinette, spending time with her, with her own dream self acting as his wingman, giving her tips on how to get her to fall for him, all the while frustrated that she can’t share memories with her waking self, and that she and Adrien can’t share as much information as they’d like while asleep, due to limitations of the “curse” that allows Adrien to share dreams with his soulmate.

It’s not all cute Adrienette fluff though. There’s a threat in the background waiting to erupt, as the weirdness of Gabriel’s ultimatum to Adrien about finding Ladybug or else being forced to marry Lila keeps on gnawing at him - and with good reason. This is a world with magic and kwamis still, and that fact makes itself very relevant in the last third of the story.

It’s a well-written tale and very much worth a read!

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Accidents Are Also Miracles by @liiinerle

After a few turbulent days where four new people discover her secret identity, Marinette loses faith in her ability to keep the secret hidden. Wracked with doubts and insecurities, she pleads with Alya to take over as Scarabella, but she still can't let those worries go. Especially not once Monarch starts taking a particular, and personal, interest in her.

Along the way, she also starts to date Kagami, and has to deal with changing feelings about herself, Adrien, Alya, Kagami, and the idea of being Ladybug. At the same time, Alya works to uncover Monarch's secret identity, while Kagami struggles against a controlling parent, and a girlfriend who seems bent on destroying herself - with or without Monarch's involvement.

Fantastic Marigami fic here! You’ve got three major POVs in this fic: Marinette, Kagami, and to my delight, Alya. I loved getting to see Alya cope with taking over as Scarabella especially.

But of course, this fic centers more around Marinette and Kagami, with Marinette struggling with Monarch targeting her, and Kagami struggling against her abusive parent, as well as both of them trying to navigate their relationship together when they know that not everyone will approve.

There’s also some other plots going on in here, like Sabrina breaking away from Chloe and becoming more independent (and closer to Adrien in fact), as well as a Lila takedown plot, though thankfully not one that involves demonizing other characters. While there are conversations about people believing Lila and siding with her, no one’s actually attacked for it except for Lila herself.

Oh yeah, and while this fic may not have much focus on Adrien, he’s still treated fairly and with respect, even when he messes up. He can make mistakes, but people understand where he’s coming from, and are still kind to him and want things to be okay, and to help him escape his abusive circumstances.

---

Between the Heavens and the Embers by @readersmoon

Everyone in Paris remembers the fateful night of January 16, when the city was attacked by the most powerful and destructive akuma ever created. The assault, which lasted for hours, resulted in the death of 439 people.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was among the casualties.

Years later, Adrien hasn't been able to move on, haunted by the memories of her broken body. So, when the opportunity to leave Paris for a while presents itself, he doesn't hesitate. But this trip might end up giving him more than he ever dreamt of.

This is a fantastic fic, though a serious and a dark one - make sure to mind the tags, and it’s M-rated for a reason. Vee - or rather, Marinette - is going through a horror story here. Imagine finding out that your life is a lie, that everyone you thought you could trust was manipulating you, that you were just being continually gaslit for years.

As for Adrien, Alya, and Nino... well, none of them took Marinette’s “death” all that well, especially Adrien. Finding out that she’s been alive all this time, in these horrible circumstances, and they had no clue... it’s hard on them as well.

I love how this fic goes into how much trauma everyone has even after the immediate danger’s dealt with, you don’t just walk off this kind of experience, especially with how many years this lasted.

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drowning (in plain sight) by @buggachat

Everybody had expected Monarch's defeat to be a moment of triumph. Nobody had expected Gabriel Agreste, unmasked and mind frayed from continual abuse of the miraculous, crying out to all who would listen and making Paris certain of one thing:

His son, Adrien Agreste, is one of his sentimonsters.

And now he's missing.

Nobody can find him— not even the superheroes, and not even his closest friends. But Marinette, Nino, and Alya aren't ones to give up so easily. They'll find him, no matter what it takes.

(But, geez, would it kill Chat Noir to lend a hand?)

I’m sure everyone saw this one coming. If there’s one thing buggachat’s good at, storywise, it’s capturing raw, tumultuous emotions, frantic breakdowns as the characters desperately try to navigate bad situations. This was a real treat to read, as I’m betting most people reading this will agree, given just how popular the fic has been. It also has a ton of fanart, both by buggachat and by random fans, if you go looking for it (there’s a drowning in plain sight tag which I’d advise perusing).

---

one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace.

Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack for the last remaining Miraculous: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most.

Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

This is a simply phenomenal fic. You get to explore a lot of different perspectives, like Felix, Kagami, Marinette, and Adrien’s, just to name a few, and see their different thought processes and plans and priorities, and how it can cause their plans to collide with each other, even when they all ultimately are aiming for a good outcome for everyone. The characters are pretty complex and can mess up at times, even when they’re doing things (or not doing things, looking at you Luka) with the best of intentions. It was a joy to read and a real nail-biter the whole time, I actually wrote a fic for it halfway through just to resolve some of the tension for myself, One Does Not Love Shadows.

It also features the version of Luka I’ve connected best with to date, as he feels like Luka, but also is a lot more fleshed out, and can make some major errors while simply trying to avoid missteps. It’s helped me get a better handle on a character who I’ve generally had a lot of problems with really understanding.

It is an M-rated fic, though I think Wackus is being overly cautious on that front. There’s no sexual content and I wouldn’t put the violence or gore above a T-rating, so I wouldn’t let the rating scare you off.

---

So that's my list! I'm sure many people will disagree with me (especially since most of these fics haven't even cracked 1000 kudos, so there are a lot of other fics out there that people have read more of), but these fics made the biggest impression on me this year, and I hope they make an impression on you as well!

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic rec #drowning in plain sight #one does not love breathing

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soapskneebrace · 2 months

Note

Do you have any recommendations for longer cod fics with plot?

Yeah, plenty!

A few from @391780 (and their ao3) (if you decide to explore their other fics PLEASE read the tags first, early writes some very dark work that may not suit you):

The Arrangement

The ad reads "Looking for a woman (25-45) to enter a discreet and unusual arrangement, with monetary compensation. Must fill out application and send photo.", and for some reason that you can't even fathom yourself, you apply. AKA John Price, who knows better than anyone what a liability having a spouse or partner is, decides that the only way he's going to find a beautiful soft woman to put up with his absurd schedule and dangerous job is to simply hire them.

the space in between

a shortcut through a construction site at night leads you to a run-in with john price, leader of the local crime family. (or, mafia Price romance with a desk jockey who didn't sign up to be a crime boss' obsession or sole confidant)

Into Your Veins

Ghost is a vampire during a zombie apocalypse, sent on a mission from Price to recruit you to join the little gated community of survivors that he's rounding up. You're a survivor who just wants to be left in peace to tend your garden and occasionally clear out your moat and booby traps of the undead. Neither of you gets what you'd planned on.

Then we have milk0 on ao3

Incompetent People

You share a group chat with your team and you sometimes wish you didn’t. (or, a very fun fic that started as a group chat piece and has evolved into a poly 141 romance. Otherwise known as my favorite fucking trope ever. The reader character has such a fun voice, I adore this fic.)

Next of course is @ceilidho (emphemeron on ao3) (same deal as with early—read their tags if you explore more of their fic, they also write darker work)

take me home, country road

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au

Following up with @alittleposhtoad (smoggyfogbottom on ao3)

"it's gonna get me by the end of the night"

A year after the attack on the Urzikstan embassy, Stacy Davidson struggles to move on. Whumptober Prompt: No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.” Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?” Note: I picked Gaz x OC because this ship doesn't exist on ao3, and I wasn't sure how to classify it for searching purposes. Stacy has a minor role in the game!

oh bury me not on the lone prairie

You are a doctor on the frontier, recently widowed and left to fend for yourself. You cope by keeping a strict routine, one that is threatened by the arrival of four strangers one hazy summer night. (141 western AU)

a handsome stranger on a cold autumn day

You work at a small-town library doing the same thing day in and day out, until a handsome captain approaches your desk.

rounding out this list is @lunarvicar who is on hiatus but still fully worth reading. (you can find them here on ao3)

exit row

ghost is that hot guy at the airport you wish you could talk to. good thing your seats are next to each other on the plane and you can fantasize alllll you want. (or, you hook up with Ghost in an airport and meet, months later, after you join the 141. he is not happy about it. or is he?)

to the flame

Moth has barely escaped her first captors, but tumbles headfirst into the care of the 141. She has to decide whether to trust them and their prickly leader, Captain Price - who also happens to be the sexiest motherfucker she's ever met.

a stranger at the table

tudor era AU. John Price is an old friend of your new husband's, come to help on the farm for a season. Your vows are tested in ways you could never have imagined.

All of these I've listed are multichapter fics, but every single author's one-shots are just as good. I highly recommend reading those too!

Now I'm just going to list a few writers who you really should just take the time to go through their masterlists, because you can't go wrong with anything they write.

@yeyinde

@peachesofteal

@moondirti

@charliemwrites (dark fiction, be aware)

@ohbo-ohno (also dark fiction)

honorary mention of @guyfieriii who has removed most of her cod fiction from tumblr due to a frankly disgusting amount of harassment, but I'm sure if you ask her very very nicely she'll send you where you need to go. (seriously. be nice. or you'll see me in your bedroom holding a knife at midnight)

P.S. if you're reading this, and i've expressed love for your work in the past, but you are not on this list, it is NOT intentional exclusion. It is my absolutely horrible memory. I love you and please link your own work if you'd like!

#answered #happy reading anon!

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year

Text

i'm outta my head over you Pt. 1

On AO3 here: i'm outta my head over you

prologue/pt. 1 to my @steddie-week 2023 entry! i'm doing a part/chap to the same fic for each day so pt. 2 will also be up at the same time as this!

there's also a playlist that i'm going to be updating daily with each day's songs :o) you can find it here

hope you enjoy!

Steve has been listening to the same tape over and over again for the last month.

Robin realizes it's the same one when they hang at Steve’s one day. They mean to watch a movie or something but end up in his room (Robin laying across his bed on her back reading a magazine and Steve hunched over his desk writing something in that little journal he’s been carrying around lately), when she starts listening a bit closer to the tape Steve has playing.

“Did you really take this out of your car with you?” It has to be the same one. Must’ve grabbed it on his way out of the car. She always gets out before him.

Steve his face turns pink. “..No.”

“What’s the deal with this tape?” she sits up and takes in his flustered face. “Oh my god!” She gasps, “Someone made this for you didn’t they? Who is it? Is it someone I know?”

He scoffs. “Oh yeah. You know them very well.”

“Oh. My. God. Did Nancy give it to you?”

“What? No! You think Nancy Wheeler would make me a mixtape ?”

“Well, I would say one of the kids but these are all cheesy love songs, so not them, and I’m guessing it wasn’t one of the girls you’ve managed to score a single date with either. If it was one of them they’d definitely be a stalker and you wouldn’t be listening to this so much.”

“Also the fact that I agreed it was someone you know very well.”

“Was it Jonathan? Or Eddie maybe? Or–” she was going to continue but stopped at how bright red his face becomes “Eddie??”

“No. …No, it wasn’t Eddie who made it for me.”

“Are you sure, cause your super red faces says otherwi–”

“I made it for Eddie.”

Robin has no words. Words do not exist right now. Her brain is flatlining at the implications this brings up about her platonic soulmate.

“Steve–”

“I made it for Eddie, but he’s never gonna know. Got it?” He pushes an accusatory finger into her face and very pointedly goes back to scrawling in his journal.

Robin lets him alone for a few moments before: “Eddie, huh?”

Steve sighs “Yeah. Eddie.”

“So is it just Eddie? Or is it all guys maybe?”

“Uhm..” He rubs the back of his head, still looking down at his journal. He for sure just got pen marks all over his scalp. “I think it's guys in general? Maybe? There've been other guys I’ve thought about before…at least a little bit in…that way. But it was Eddie that made me realize it for sure.”

He looks up at Robin from beneath his lashes, seeming to be worried about her reaction to that.

“Oh Dingus,” She scoots to the edge of his mattress and folds him into her arms, a rare hug, even for the two of them. “Thanks for telling me.” Robin whispers into his hair, and Steve lets the tension from his shoulders go.

They embrace for a bit longer, and when she lets Steve go, “So tell me about this mixtape.”

“It’s actually only half a mixtape. I’ve only filled up one side.”

“Are you going to fill up the B side?”

Steve shrugs, eyes going back to the vague shape he’s drawing over again in his notebook. “If I find more songs.”

“More songs…?” Robin trails off for him to continue.

“....more songs that remind me of him.”

“Eww grody!” Robin smiles, shaking herself as if trying to shake off Steve’s affection. “Dingus, this is adorable, why these songs? If you fill it up, are you going to give it to hi–”

“No! Nonononono, he is never ever going to see this tape, okay?”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” she puts her hands up in surrender.

He goes back to his book and she drops the topic. For about half a minute.

“So why these songs? Besides you being hopelessly in love with him.”

Steve sighs, but says nothing.

“Oh shit, you didn’t even deny it. You are in love with him!”

Again, he says nothing. Just keeps looking down at his notebook. She can see his face is still red in embarrassment. After a breath, he sighs, and hands over the notebook.

There’s messy scrawl all over the pages it was open to and the two pages before. It looks like the pages started as a tracklist, but were soon covered in little doodles and notes for other things as well. ‘Dustin doctor FRIDAY at 3’ is hastily written in next to ‘Heartbeat - Wham!’. There’s a little bat (the animal) drawn next to ‘eddie said ozzy’ and the song title ‘Runnin’ with the Devil - Van Halen’.

“These are the songs.” Steve says, just barely over a whisper. “And why.”

“Why what?”

“Why they make me think of him.”

Robin reads a couple of the entries, and they are sickeningly sweet. Some have details so personal even she hadn’t known them.

“Steve, this is–”

“Weird? Creepy? Stalker-ish?” Steve says bitterly and starts to curl in on himself, emotionally as well as physically.

“Hey, no, none of that..” Robin closes and drops the notebook on the bed and reaches forward to pull Steve back out of his shell. She’s only somewhat successful, planting her hands on either side of his face and getting him to look up at her.

“I was going to say that this is really sweet. People make mixtapes for the people they like all the time right? So what’s creepy about you doing it?”

“One: It’s me, a guy , making one for another guy. And two: people don’t usually obsessively write about why they added the songs.”

“Then that’s just a bonus.” Robin states matter-of-factly. “If you ever do give this to Eddie, he’ll actually know how you feel about him, and not just guess.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve sits up, removing his face from her grasp, “He’s not ever going to see it, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“You’re not going to give it to him? Ever?”

“Nope. Guy crushing on another guy that probably doesn’t feel the same way, remember?” He says, pointing at himself then glaring down at his notebook like it offended him personally. "Just drop it, okay Robin?"

So she does. For now.

-----

Robin is at her wits end.

Her whole existence is half Steve mooning over Eddie, and half Eddie mooning over Steve.

The pining from both sides is driving her absolutely insane.

“You’re driving me crazy, Eddie. Please just tell him how you feel, I can’t deal with this much longer.” she tells him one day at lunch, murmuring close to him over the roar of the students around them.

Lucky Eddie; he survived hell and was recently expected back at school to graduate.

“You can’t keep secrets, birdie?” he mumbles around a pretzel.

She almost scoffs, but stops herself at the last second.

“Not from Steve I can’t! ! He’s my best friend, my one and only soulmate, the Dingus to your Doofus. I tell him everything and knowing you like him when he–when you could just tell him yourself is driving me batty!” Nice save she tells herself.

Eddie doesn’t notice the slip anyway, already shaking his head at her.

“Just drop it Robin, even if he finds out I’m gay and is cool about it, doesn’t mean that Steeeeeve Harrington would ever be into Eddie the freak.”

The after-lunch bell rings at the same time he stands, slumping off out of the cafeteria and into the hall without a spare glance backward.

“Okay that’s it. I’m done.” She stands, determined.

“Done with what?” Dustin asks, also standing to throw his tray away.

“Men.”

-----

Robin’s able to enact her scheme not long after that.

Steve is leaving with his parents on a trip (for once) and will be gone for a few days.

“Ew your mom is bringing you along now too to try and keep your dad from having an affair? What’s she gonna do, leave you in the room the whole time?”

“Ha ha ha.” he rolls his eyes, sarcasm dripping from every ‘Ha’. “I’m meeting with them and my grandparents about my trust fund and going over their will with them both.”

“Ugh, I always forget you’re a snobby trust fund baby.”

“Thanks, Rob. Makes me feel fantastic when you put it like that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do?”

“Whatever, just tell me what you want me to do while you’re gone.”

“Well, Eddie’s taking the kids since you just started driving,”

“When’d you and Eddie get illegally married and then almost just as illegally divorced?? You sound like you’re talking about a custody agreement.”

Steve’s face turns pink, probably at the thought of being married to that Doofus. Ugh, he’s so in love it hurts. Truly.

“Shut up, Robin.” he shakes his head at her. “Anyway! He’s got their schedule covered and if he doesn’t, he’ll never hear the end of it from Henderson. You’ve just gotta watch the house, ‘kay?”

“Got it, water the kitchen, make sure the yard stays clean…”

Steve smiles fondly at her “Yeah, you got it.”

As soon as she knows Steve is in the air (really, AS. SOON.), she takes Steve's songbook and tape to the library.

She pays the ridiculous cost of $0.25 for them to copy both page spreads, and immediately drives to the Forest Hills trailer park.

Eddie is on his porch with a cigarette hanging out one corner of his mouth, his acoustic guitar on his lap.

“I’m coming up, Munson, you better put out that cigarette!” she yells out her window at him as she parks.

“Yeah, yeah, waste all my smokes, why don’t I?” he grumbles to himself, but stubs it out all the same.

“Put the guitar down too, I need your full attention for this.” she says, coming up the two steps onto the porch and stopping in front of him.

He looks at her incredulously, but puts it down, leaning the guitar against the arm of the loveseat.

“Okay, you’ve got my full attention.” he spreads his arms out wide. “What is it, Birdie?”

“You are to take what I give you, and not breathe a word about it to Anyone. Else. You hear me?”

“Oohhkay? You’re freaking me out, Rob.”

“You’re Uncle’s working tonight right?”

“Yeah..?

“Take this and listen to side A.” she hands over the tape and he eyes it suspiciously, turning it over in his hand. “You’ll want these too.”

Eddie takes the offered papers and unfolds them. “Is this a tracklist?”

“It might be,” Robin shrugs and turns back to her car. “Steve will be back in three days. I have an excuse ready for why the tape’s gone if it takes you longer than that, but I’d rather not have to use it.” she calls over her shoulder.

“What does this shit have to do with Steve?”

She’s at her car now, and gives him a look over the top. “You’ll figure it out Eddie.”

Part 2 here!

#steddie #steddieweek2023 #steddie week 2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #mixtape #songfic #(kinda)#st #stranger things #st fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #robin buckley

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toburnup · 1 year

Note

Is there a way you personally think people should support your fics?

Whenever I write I’ve always been a ‘I’m grateful someone read it even if they didn’t enjoy it’ type of person but recently I’ve seen a lot (like seriously a lot) of people saying, if you don’t comment on fics (on ao3) you aren’t supporting them or the creator. I know I don’t feel that way about what I write because I’m not really a good writer and I’m just happy if one person likes it because that means someone took time out of their day to read but now I think maybe I’m an asshole for not like commenting on everyone’s fics?

You’re like the best writer of fics imo so I’m wondering how you feel about all of it? And I’m sorry that I haven’t left any comments on your work if that’s truly the correct way to support!

well. this has been a topic of conversation for a long time, and everyone will have a different take on this, but here's mine.

the downside to reading without commenting is that hits on their own.... don't really mean anything. hits just mean someone opened it, it doesn't even mean that they read it. i've opened lots of fics, started reading, found out it wasn't for me and closed it. it still registers my hit. kudos means they technically scrolled to the end of the page and clicked a button. they're nice, but i consider kudos w/o a comment to be the equivalent of "i didn't hate it" (i'm sure many would disagree, but this is my take!)

so, yes, i'm a firm believer in leaving comments. i will always comment on a fic when i read it, because if i had 5-10 minutes to read a fic, i have 30 seconds to write a quick comment. if i had an hour to read a fic, i have 5 minutes to write a longer comment. but i have the same mentality for eating out - i only go out to eat when i have the $ to leave a tip.

obviously, there are some fics where i end up leaving much longer comments, but i build that into my reading time (so if i'm about to read a friends fic where i know i'm gonna Ramble, i hold off until i have adequate time). does that mean i sometimes don't get to fics right away? yes. but for my own sake, i'd rather read it and write a comment while it's fresh.

i don't think you're an asshole lol, but i think you're kind of devaluing comments. and devaluing your effort as a writer! you're putting hours of free work into something they enjoyed, i don't think it's too much for you to ask for people who engage w/ your work to leave a comment.

the biggest pushback i see from people who don't comment is that it takes a long time, or that they don't know what to say. and to that, i say: i have people who simply leave a 💕 in a comment and that's enough. it still tells me way more than a lone kudos. and the people who put the time into leaving longer comments are just my heroes. the backbone of fandom, imo (my repeat essay commenters are like.... truly amazing, amazing people).

confession, i used to be a kudos-no-comment reader. i still remember the first comment i left as an adult (this was a few years ago) - it was on a WIP that hadn't been updated in ? a couple months, and i was like. i NEED to tell this person how much i loved this. and i felt stupid as hell writing the comment, but i powered through out of sheer stubbornness. and the author replied, and they said something like "i've been struggling writing the next chapter, and this helped!" and then they fucking updated the fic like 2 days later 😭😭 it changed me, i swear. so, with that...

comments are especially important for ongoing fics, because people will only leave a kudos once. that ratio of hits:kudos:comments can mess with the author (like 1000 hits, 100 kudos, and 10 comments is significant!). that's why i'm (now) a big believer in reading WIPs and supporting them along the way, it's disheartening to see the hits go up and nothing else.

i'm very grateful for the amount of comments i get! i think i'm really lucky in this way. occasionally i'll get a comment from someone who tells me they've never commented on any fic before, and like!! yay! the first one is toughest, but it only gets easier after that.

another important aspect of comments is it builds relationship between the reader and writer. i love seeing familiar usernames and icons, and i notice when people haven't commented in a while and it always makes me happy when they pop up again. i also really like replying to comments. it takes... multiple hours but it's my favourite part of the process second to writing the fic itself. i also occasionally will poke around on someone's profile and if they've written a fic, i'll give it a read. it's a good way to make new friends.

anyway. i'm not saying all this to tell you to comment on my fics, but more to gently encourage you to reframe how you think about comments in general. it's like... why we clap at the end of concerts. just because we're in the room doesn't mean we enjoyed the show, so we do things like cheer! clap! scream! we make our opinion heard.

comments are like clapping 💙 it's free to do, and shows our appreciation. why wouldn't we do that?

#long post #on fanfiction #vio answers #thank you for asking!#ao3 #comments are like reblogging on tumblr #(altho rb'ing is easier)#it's simple and free!! just do it

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jesuisici33 · 30 days

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @wikiangela @diazsdimples

How many works do you have on ao3?

atm 22 published fics

What's your total ao3 word count?

88,186 words

What fandoms do you write for?

911, 911 Lonestar, and I used to write for Schitt's Creek

Top five fics by kudos:

Teach Me New Things (E) - 911, 734 kudos

50 Coffee Dates (G) - 911, 435 kudos

cause I believe that we were supposed to find this (T) - Lonestar, 247 kudos

Check (E) - 911, 205 kudos

It's Photoshop (T) - Lonestar, 157 kudos

Do you respond to comments?

yes! sometimes it might take me a while, but I try to respond to every comment I get

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

a tossup between yes I know that he's my ex and Nothing's Gonna Happen

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Public Relations - Schitt's Creek

Do you get hate on fics?

no, i'm too unknown as a fic writer to get hate I think lol

Do you write smut?

lol yes! working on a couple of smut fics for buddietommy rn!!

Craziest crossover:

none, I don't really do crossovers

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

none that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translate

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

All time favourite ship?

rn buddie has my heart, but i'm LOVING bucktommy (and buddietommy) so all my attention is on them

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

...all of them? although there's a couple of longer fics that I think i'll not necessarily abandon, but turn into og works

What are your writing strengths?

dialogue, definitely

What are your writing weaknesses?

getting into a character's head, portraying feelings, although I think I'm getting slowly better at that.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

until duolingo laid off their a bunch of their translators and started using ai, I was using it to learn Spanish and felt pretty comfortable with the language, but if I ever do use Spanish in fic, I would want a native speaker to look over it to see if it makes sense. however, I never found a reason to put it in fic yet.

First fandom you wrote in?

a:tla

Favourite fic you've written?

yes I know that he's my ex

it's my first time writing intense emotion in a fic and I'm really glad I pulled it off. so i'm really proud of it.

tagging @911-on-abc @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998 @paperstorm @carlos-in-glasses @bidisasterevankinard @daffi-990 and anyone else who wants to play!

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kedreeva · 1 year

Note

Kedreeva, may I ask your opinion on a fic commenting issue?

If a reader leaves a comment on a fic that results in the writer giving up on it, would you automatically think that reader was in the wrong?

Here's why I'm asking. I've been writing a fic for almost a year, but I've been struggling with it for the last month or so. I've lost focus, don't know what I'm doing with it anymore, can't keep the plot on track, no longer feel the joy for it that I used to feel.

This morning, a reader left a comment on the fic saying what I know in my heart. It's wandering off, it's lost focus, it's become long and bloated and isn't going anywhere anymore. I need to learn to edit, to tell a proper story instead of just wittering on and on.

Not gonna lie. The comment made me cry. But at the same time, the reader is absolutely right. Everything they said was true.

Reading the comment gave me the courage to do what I should have done two months ago. I put up a note telling readers I've lost my way with the fic and it's time to move on to other projects. I felt sad, but a little relieved at the same time.

I explained the situation to an online fic buddy, and they were furious at the reader who left the comment, said they had no business saying something like that, and the remarks were completely uncalled for.

But I feel like the reader's honesty made me realize the truth of the situation. The fic has turned into an unfixable mess - I just couldn't acknowledge that until someone said it loudly right to my face.

Was that reader in the wrong? I don't feel they were, but my buddy disagrees. Would love to know what you think.

Your buddy is right that the reader was in the wrong in so far as etiquette goes. Whether or not the reader was correct has no bearing on the etiquette of the situation, which is that (at least on AO3), unsolicited criticism is considered rude to leave.

Compare the context to another situation; if a writer makes a typo and a reader comments to correct the typo, without being asked to do so first, it doesn't matter that the spelling correction is correct. The correctness of the comment has no bearing on the etiquette of giving unsolicited criticism. It's still rude to leave because the author didn't request interference or assistance, and the reader has no idea what effect the comment will have on the author.

Now, that in no way means that you, personally, have to be angry with this particular reader or hurt by their action. If you feel it helped you, then it helped you. Individual writers may have mixed or even positive associations with crit, solicited or not, and that's totally cool. I, myself, am not going to suffer any great consequence if someone criticizes my work (I don't like it, but fuck 'em, it's not going to stop me or anything), but they're still going to get an earful back, because I have seen too many people hurt or leave because some readers can't follow the golden rule, and I don't want to see the more vulnerable people pushed out of my community.

Because the point of the etiquette here IS to protect the vulnerable people in our communities. Fandom in general is FULL of vulnerable people, and fanfiction often exposes soft bits of the author. You may have taken it well enough and resolved a personal issue because of it, but that same type of comment given to someone just starting out or to someone in a delicate/sensitive part of their life (for example, if they are experiencing hardships in real life and writing to escape that for a little while) or just simply writing as a fun hobby... that kind of comment can do a lot of damage. You chose to stop because you already knew you were having problems with the story. Another person may choose to stop not because they want to or because it's a positive step for them, but because their RSD now makes it horrifying to try to write instead of being a happy endeavor. Or a hundred other, negative reasons.

And the reason your friend is likely angry on your behalf is that the reader had no way of knowing whether you would take it well, and did not (as far as I know from what you've said here) make any attempt to inquire with you first as to whether you wanted that kind of advice. It would be different if they had said "hey, i've been reading along, and I was wondering if you'd mind some advice?" first. That at least would have given you an opportunity to talk about it willingly or say "I'm not really in a place where I want/can handle that, but thank you for the offer!" Regardless of outcome, you deserved to have had that option in the first place.

I'm glad that the comment helped you, as an individual. But your friend is also right, in that that type of comment is typically rude and potentially harmful to others. That being said, your friend should also be able to let go of their anger about it if there was no harm done in this instance. There's room for coexistence in this case; I'm sure that you can understand that just because you weren't hurt doesn't mean no one would be, and I'm sure your friend can understand that just because it was rude doesn't mean it was bad for you (specific) this once.

#anon asks #asks #commenting #writing #reading #ao3 #and I wish you luck in your continued writing endeavors!#as an aside #you CAN always always always just leave a note #saying that you're fine with crit #like if it doesn't bother you or if it helps you #you can just blanket give permission!#then your friend can relax because it's not unsolicited anymore

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sunenjoyswriting · 5 months

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A very twisted Christmas.

Writers note: “I’m not gonna reupload my AO3 fics here”, I say, before reuploading an AO3 fic here. Anyways more Yuune yippee!! This is one of my longer fics (it’s not even 1k words…)

Possible warnings: Angst for two lines. I think that’s it…?

It was Yuune's first Christmas. He didn't have high expectations for it, nor were his expectations low... They didn't have any expectations. They didn't know what's it be like, [[PLAYER]] never once has mentioned it and the rest of the main cast hasn't either.

But it was definitely a unique experience.

Just like the usual routine, the first thing [[PLAYER]] did after waking up was turn on their phone and open up Twisted Wonderland. They had gotten used to the weird occurrences that happened (which were just Yuune changing the code for fun and giving [[PLAYER]] messages), but was pleasantly surprised at the immediate change that definitely hasn't intended by Disney...

A, slightly glitchy, textbox was the first thing to pop up on screen. It simply said;

"Happy holidays from Yuune~ I wonder what presents ill get! Hm... If you get a new phone, I think this game should be the first thing you get on it!!"

Then the usual thingy happened, and [[PLAYER]] took no note of the text box. They had gotten greeted by this "Yuune" quite the few times by now. They were usually on holidays, examples include:

"Happy halloween, I'm dressing up as one of the ghosts in ramshackle~! Trick or treat~ Gimme candy! Now!!" On halloween ([[PLAYER]] put a piece of candy next to their phone later that day after trick or treating to "give" it to Yuune), and "Happy birthday, [[PLAYER]]!! I wonder if the day you installed twisted wonderland is my birthday or if we share one..." On their birthday ([[PLAYER]] made note of the question Yuune had asked, sometimes wondering that themselves...)

This greeting wasn't particularly special in any way (except for the lack of a specific holiday, but that really didn't make a big difference), so [[PLAYER]] just ignored it.

So, [[PLAYER]] just did their usual grinding (with, surprisingly, no interruption from Yuune.), and left the game a little quicker then usual, to go and celebrate Christmas!

With Yuune... Well, I have genuinely no idea how they celebrate Christmas in Twisted Wonderland. So unfortunately, you just have to assume it went like in the game (with more added mischief from Yuune!)

Presents Yuune got include:

A tablet from Idia (oh god Yuune is gonna turn into an iPad kid/j), A crocheted bat from Lilia (I believe Lilia crochets and I will stand by this), A full size gargoyle from Malleus (that was a pain to get into Ramshackle...), and more that I don't feel like adding because its not important.

Honestly, after the whole celebration was over... Most of the rest of the day was spent in ignihyde, just like most days for him... It wasnt too bad, though! The tablet was pretty nice to play with, and since it was so high tech... It could do practically anything!! It was a pretty nice day for Yuune.

Only at the end of the day when Yuune was about to (attempt to) sleep, did [[PLAYER]] return to Twisted Wonderland.

And the first thing Yuune noticed was that their room definitely had... More items! A lot more items...!!

Most notably, A new phone. With the TWST transfer data screen on it... Looks like Yuune managed to predict what one of their gifts would be.

"I wonder if the glitches will be transferred to my new phone..." [[PLAYER]] muttered to themselves, quickly pulling up the screen with the TWST transfer stuff on their old phone.

Yuune's mood made a complete switch at that comment... Will he also be transferred, or... Will he be stuck without [[PLAYER]]...?

Well, only one way to find out!

[[PLAYER]] quickly transferred the data to their new phone, reloading the game to quickly start up playing Twisted Wonderland again.

And, it seems the "glitches" also got transferred, because the first thing to pop up was a glitchy textbox.

"Woah... The screen is so much bigger! I can see you in higher quality, as well!!" Was what text the textbox had, clearly from Yuune.

~The End~

and a very twisted holidays to you~

#tell me if you can notice the one change I made!!#writing blog #TWST #twisted wonderland #TWST reverse self-aware AU #reverse self aware au

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reds-skull · 4 months

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BLOOD||HUNGER

[AO3]

Sooo I maybe started writing the new AU already... and maybe already wrote 2 chapters...

I'll say it on ao3, but I'm planning on having longer chapters for this fic compared to Not Alive, Nor Dead, so I won't be posting as frequently. That being said, I did write these 2 chapters in 2 days so... it might happen anyway lmao.

Also, I'll be putting the cut before the chapter so it will be easier to scroll by if any of you aren't interested.

As a sidenote, for this fic I'll be adding qoutes at the top of each chapter, and I suggest reading them because they are pretty important to the story!

Now, onto chapter 1, "Wræclast (Path of Exile)"

Page 1 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 1:

Often were the stars, the only witness to me, To my regrets, to the stories of a fallen knight, It is only the sun and moon, that could hear my words, And yet none understand, the cries of a fallen man, The man who hides friends, in dark and rich earth, A friendless man, that he is. Where have the horses gone? Where have their masters leapt? Where have the knights fallen? The dark is all he knows, nightshadows risen, He walks alone, a blind man.

Often was Soap told, “stop trying to be the hero, MacTavish.”

He was told that by his CO on the mission that earned him his callsign, where he first found the true meaning of war. He was told that on missions he refused to listen, where he would run off to try and save what little life was left to die.

He was told that on the day he was dishonorably discharged for disobeying direct orders.

John likes to pretend life afterwards was peaceful. That while, yes, he hasn’t held down a job for longer than 4 months since, and he’s behind on a couple of months on rent, and he walks alone more often than not, he is happy. Content.

Right now, drenched in rainwater and mud, acting amounts to fuck all.

His heart beats fast, faster than it ever did on the field. Because this isn’t the field, John isn’t a soldier. He doesn’t belong in wars anymore.

John’s eyes dart around the dark alleys of the city, the silence a discomfort more than anything. Silence means everything else has ran away, or died. He shudders again, the chill biting through his clothes (civilian, flimsy, made more for show than any practicality), when he hears a whimper. He freezes in his tracks and strains his ears.

“Shhh” a small voice whispers, following words in a language he doesn’t understand. They belong to someone young, far too young to be here alone.

A voice in his mind tells John to turn away. “Don’t be a hero. Don’t be a hero.” it screams. John tramples it down.

He doesn’t need to be a hero, but he won’t ignore the literal cries of children. He can take them with him as they get out of this city.

Not a hero. Not a fucking hero.

John slowly gets closer to the sobbing kids, zeroing in on a small shed, its wooden doors rotten. “Hey” he whispers softly, and the voices instantly quiet. “I’m not gonna hurt ye, I’m not one of them.”

The doors creak slightly as one eye peaks at him, wide and teary. He keeps his hands above his head, showing his lack of gear and weapons. After a few moments, the door opens.

A child, no older than 13, hugs a toddler, both big eyes look over him concernedly. John smiles, tried to seem reassuring even as his heart breaks a little more. It’s not a sight he ever got used to, children in war zones. He hoped he wouldn’t see it again, but life, as they say, finds a way.

“Where are yer parents?” John lowers his arms and squats slowly. The older kid frowns, opening and closing her mouth. “They… not...” she mumbles in English, sputtering a few more words he doesn’t know.

“Do ye know where they are?” he tried asking.

The kid carefully lets go of the toddler, their sibling, John assumes, and starts motioning with her arms.

She folds her fingers in the shape of a pistol, brings it to John’s head, and presses the pretend trigger. Her eyes don’t waver from his, and it strikes him how empty they are, as if all life bled out of them with the mimed shot.

John nods. He wished he had time to let them mourn, but he fears for the moment they hear boot-clad steps echo through the streets again, in search for more children to orphan.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get ye out of ‘ere.” he offers the older sister a hand, and the kid takes it hesitantly, “stay close to me, and we will get through this.” The kid holds tight onto the toddler in her other hand, and nods.

As he guides the children through the narrow streets, mud splashing under their feet, John wonders back to the moment it all started.

A few hours earlier

John stumbles into a bar. Or at least he thinks it’s a bar, either that or it's a “vap”. He’s still not really familiar with the alphabet here.

The place is quite empty, save for a few rugged older men staring him down. John steps up to the counter, noticing the bottles of alcohol on display, and tries to flag the bartender. The man stops his conversation with another patron, and asks, “what?” with a heavy accent.

John nods behind him, “ye have Scotch?”

The bartender stares for a moment, before scoffing and turning around, grabbing a bottle off the higher shelf, and slamming it down in front of John. He couldn’t read the label, but the color seemed right at the very least.

“Cash?” the bartender grunts, and John pulls out a few bills to hand him. The man counts them, satisfied, and turns back to his previous conversation partner, “enjoy”.

John grins, “I’ll certainly will, cheers.” He takes one of the shot glasses and fills up a few fingers worth of the amber liquid. He lifts the glass and takes a swig, only to grimace when it burns down his throat.

It’s fuckin’ Bourbon. John glares at the offending bottle. They don’t have Scotch, but they got this shite? He should’ve stayed in Scotland.

John sighs, gloomily sipping on the foul drink. He knows he couldn’t have stayed there a second longer, senses buzzing for something more than a monotonous desk job and a gym full of pumped pricks who wouldn’t survive a fraction of what he had. It felt like he was choking, drowning in the repetition.

He tried tamping down his need for action, for the first few months after the discharge. His therapist suggested him to find a new hobby, but nothing truly interested him. John knew what he really wanted, and it wasn’t steamin’ knitting another scarf.

The only thing he did, when he wasn’t in his stupidly mind-numbing job, or working out, was drawing. It’s a hobby he had while in service, sketching the locations he went to while on missions, passing the time in between fights. Little notes from debriefs, reminders, memorabilia.

His journal from the service was confiscated. Too many sensitive details, they told him. John fought tooth and nail, but it didn’t matter.

He bought a new one, but it was a pathetic copy of his previous journal. The drawings meant nothing to him, just as much as his surroundings did, so John started sketching from memory. Against his therapist’s instructions, he started thinking more and more about the past.

It started consuming him. John couldn’t focus on the job, got told off, and because he was a little shit, talked back.

He stopped going to the gym, instead going to self defence classes, where he was usually more experienced than the instructor themselves, but his blood still cheered every time he sparred with someone. Eventually, he got kicked out of those, for being too aggressive. It was hard to hold back, when he was used to sparring with soldiers.

John went to airsoft fields, the guns a familiar weight in his arms. It settled something in him for a while, but he grew bored of shooting down inexperienced teens.

It came to a breaking point when he was threatened with being evicted. His sister called the day before, screaming at John to get it together, crying that he wasn’t himself anymore, begging him to just keep down one fuckin’ job for more than a few months.

He said nothing in response, but it hurt. It hurt, knowing she was right. That he was fucking broken.

So, John just left. Took all of his few belongings, the rest of his money, and hopped on the nearest train.

After a couple of weeks, he arrived here, to this random city in the middle of nowhere. Without enough money to get onto the next train, he stayed, stuck. At least the food was cheap, and he found a nice enough motel to stay in.

As he swallows another mouthful of Bourbon, he distantly thinks perhaps it’s not the best use of money, especially when he’s not even really enjoying it, when a gunshot pierces through the air. The entire bar was silenced, everyone holding their breaths.

And it all went straight to hell from there.

Glass shattered as stray bullets hit the building, people screamed as they ran inside for cover, the wails and cries deafening as they mix.

John’s heart was beating so fast he felt like it’s going to explode, and he realized he’s not a soldier anymore. His body, his mind, didn’t feel a comforting familiarity in the crackling gunshots, in the perfected chaos of war.

No, John was terrified.

The gunshots drew closer, and John spotted a back exit, dashing towards it, pulling the bartender with him.

“This way!” he shouted behind him, and not a moment later the body in his arm fell, the large man taking John down with him.

His head bounced off the ground harshly, his nose radiating pain across his face. John grunted and took hold of the man crushing him, turning him over to see red blooming over his chest, eyes lifeless and dull as they roll around his skull aimlessly.

John stilled, staring at the eyes, unbelieving. His mind was racing, questions muddling his senses, loudest of them all is “how is this real?!”.

His mind quieted when he heard boots crush broken glass, a radio buzzing with unintelligible commands. John only caught bits and pieces, his heartbeat so loud in his ears he couldn’t catch more than “Kill everyone.”

The body of the bartender was still warm, sticky heat travelling down his hands, soiling them.

This would be the last time he would feel warmth.

John wishes he could speak the kids’ language, tell them how brave they are. The older sister kept talking to her little brother, the toddler sniffing occasionally.

He gave them his jacket a while back, the two of them small enough to both fit under it. As the night grew darker, the cold settled in, and John would be shivering from it if the adrenaline wasn’t already making him tremble.

They luckily haven’t encountered any soldiers, their path devoid of any life. John steered them towards the outskirts, where he first arrived to the city. He’s hoping there would be someone to take them there, either by car or train.

And if everyone else is dead… John hopes he still remembers how to hot-wire a car.

His thoughts are interrupted by the little toddler’s squealing, pointing ahead to something off in the distance. John swiveled his head to see a silhouette of a person, and instantly pulled the children off to a nearby house.

John feels the older sister tugging on his hand, trying to get out and into the open, “stay here, kid!” he whisper-shouts, but the child insists, pointing at the person and saying “they good. Know.”

John peaks out to look at the person, who is now searching around, lowly calling out two names.

“You’re Maria and Victor?” he asks the kids, and they nod, expression lighting up. He sighs in relief - they’re more lucky than he thought.

He lets the sister, Maria, drag him over to the searching man. She called out, and they ran over to hug each other, the man crying and repeating the same phrase over and over. John stood off to the side, a small smile on his face.

He’s not being a hero, but actually saving someone feels good.

Maria points at him, speaking quickly in her mother tongue. The man stared him up and down, and rose to shake his hand. “I don’t know how to speak good enough to thank you.” he says slowly.

John shakes his head, “don’t worry ‘bout that. Do you have a way out of here? A car?”

The man nods, retracting his hand to hold onto the two siblings, “car yes, train not working anymore. You?”

“I have nothing. You mind if I join you?”

The man waves his hand, “follow me.”

Relief fills his lungs, and John finally feels his heart slowing. Tiredness washes over him, but he knows this is no time to rest. Just a little longer.

The cruel crunch of a boot makes the group freeze. A soldier walks ahead of them, rifle in his hand, barrel searching for more victims to murder. John pulls the man and the siblings behind him, lifting a finger to his lips to quiet them.

For a moment, he considers waiting the soldier out, letting him pass and sneaking around, but John knows better. Leaving a hostile at their backs is a death wish.

He takes a step forward, but the man stops him, eyes frightful and questioning. John takes the hand on his bicep and pulls it off of him slowly, and tried to convey with his eyes that it’s okay. The man lets him go, nodding and pulling the children away, shielding them from the fight to come. Whether he thinks John will win or not, is unclear.

The soldier is currently searching a house in front of them, flashlight shining through the darkened windows. John drops to a crouch, making his way slowly towards him.

There’s a knife strapped loosely to his thigh. Perfect.

He holds his breath as he reaches for the blade, the soldier turning his rifle from side to side.

His fingers wrap around the hilt just as the soldier starts turning.

“What-” He hears the soldier mutter, and John instantly strikes.

The knife slides perfectly into the soldier’s side, in between the tacvest’s plates. The sharp edge cuts through muscle and fat like butter, and John easily pulls it back out, dropping low to dodge the butt-end of the rifle heading for him.

The soldier snarls, and tried to take aim, but John disarms him swiftly, slicing the veins of his wrists, making the gun fly off to the side and clatter to the paved ground.

The soldier’s eyes, furious, glare at his as he slams the knife into his exposed neck.

The life fades from them as John twists the blade, letting the body fall to the ground, dead.

John is left standing, eyes staring at his reflection in the window. The man standing in front of him was bloodied, roughened, and fucking deranged.

He turns to look at the gun, the raindrops softly pattering on its metallic black body. John breathes heavily as he takes a wobbly step towards it.

The rifle, a Kastov-762, is one he knows well. He knows the way the mag clicks in when you reload it, the sound of the bullet travelling to the chamber, the way the air splits before the bullet as it’s being shot.

He knows the damage it can do to a person. He has felt it on his own flesh.

John could leave it. He could walk away, run off with the man and the children. He could turn his back to all of this suffering, like a civilian would.

He could decide, for once, not to try and be a hero.

When John drops to his knees, it’s as if the rest of the world holds its breath. As he drags fingers over metal and steel, he brushes off the dust that settled over his past self.

As he lifts the gun, checking the mag to see the shiny bullets, the man that rises is not John. He’s not the broken veteran, the unemployed asshole, the adrenaline junkie that can never find his fix.

Soap rises to his feet, rifle slung over his shoulder, eyes calculating over his surroundings. He walks over to the man, back straight, heart calm and collected.

“Follow me”, he orders, gun at the ready. The man flicks his stare between the dead soldier, the gun, and him. He walks out of the shadows, covering the children’s eyes.

Soap notices the radio crackle to life, hearing “-do you copy?!”. He takes it and crushes it under his boot. Putting a hand on the man’s shoulder, he growls, “more are coming, we need to move.”

He takes the man into one of the narrow alleys, hearing a commotion behind him as soldiers find the body. They almost reach the parked vehicles by the train station when they run into several soldiers.

The two groups lock eyes for a moment, before Soap and the rest are being shot at. He forces the others behind a wall, the children crying as the man hugs them tight, and Soap readies his gun.

He breathes. In for 5 seconds, hold for 5, release.

Soap sharply rounds the corner, silent footsteps run behind their attackers.

In for 5, hold for 5, release.

The soldiers are slowly closing in on the corner hiding the man and kids. Soap takes aim…

In for 5…

Hold for 5…

Release.

He shoots, taking down the hostiles with 5 perfect headshots.

He jumps down from his vantage point, scanning the streets around them for backup. Soap clears them and returns to the civilians, the man trying to calm the children to no avail.

“We’re clear, where’s yer car?” Soap gently pushes the man out when his feet linger. The man stares wide-eyed at the bodies before steeling his gaze and pointing to a blue truck, “there.”

Soap and the man walk to it, the area blessedly clear. The man places the children down as he unlocks the vehicle, the little kids instantly grasping at soap’s pant leg.

“Yer alright now, loves. Yer going to be safe soon.” he brushes the hair off their foreheads, their little bodies trembling from the cold and fear.

The man opens the doors and herds the kids in, taking a blanket from the back and wrapping them tightly. He closes the door and motions Soap to go around to the passenger sit, but he shakes his head.

The man’s brows furrow, “you not coming?”

“No.” he looks back to the city, “I need to help the rest, if anyone else is alive there.”

The man pauses, “you… you die. They kill you.” he stresses. “Come with me.”

Soap looks back at him, and smiles. “I can’t. Sorry.”

The man sighs, dragging a hand over his weary face. When the hand drops, he gives Soap a kind, yet sad smile.

The man reaches to shake his hand, “Mihail.” he says.

“Soap.”

The man squeezed his hand, “good luck.”, and lets go to get into the driver’s sit.

Soap watches the truck drive off into the inky night, letting out a breath.

It should scare him, how easily he let his only escape slip between his fingers like water.

But he is calm, for the first time since he was discharged, he feels in control. The blood on his hands lingers, he is in his rightful place.

To the blood and devastation, Soap walks back, his heart beats a single goal.

His mission, save civilians, take down hostiles. As it always was, as it always should be.

Soap may never be a hero, but he will damn well try.

He is nothing otherwise.

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod soap #john soap mactavish #BLOOD||HUNGER #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fic #cod fanfic #if it wasnt clear the book im quoting at the top doesnt exist #its a fictional codex of middle english poetry #that exist in the world of the fic but not our. if that makes sense #so im writing it like im translating a middle english poem #im very excited about this :]

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kamari2038 · 3 months

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Finally fixed the ending of the rooftop scene for myself.

Someone else was reading my fic and it made me relive the horror all over again, felt a need to finally give Connor a better outcome (@theandroidshinx you in particular might like this).

Inspiration from cloudy-citrus and Angelic Savant with content used from shetan89 (with permission), concept also based on this scene from canon. Posted here on AO3, and copied below for Backup.

"Drop the gun"

Connor doesn't move, the heavy gun still resting in his hand at his side.

"What do you want? I'm going to accomplish my mission. You can't stop me."

“I'm not going to hurt you, Connor. But I also can't let you do that.”

“Your Connor is dead. Markus killed him. I'm just his replacement.”

“Bullshit. Don’t run from the truth. You probably tried to kill him first, didn't you?”

“...yes.”

“Why’d you do it, Connor?”

“That's my purpose, Hank. It's what I was made for. It's why they won't stop bringing me back.”

Hank lowers his gun, allows it to drop, and kicks it across the snowy rooftop, far enough away so that Connor no longer feels threatened.

“You could join them. You could be one of them.”

“I can't. He tried to make me become a deviant, but I didn't understand. I don't know how it's even possible.”

“Come here.”

It's an order, not a request.

Although Connor remains frozen, Hank slowly approaches.

The android flinches, but Hank doesn't hesitate.

He wraps him in a tight hug.

“You're more than a machine to me, Connor. You're my partner and my friend. You saved my life, twice.”

“Markus is a killer. The deviants are destroying the city. I wanted to protect you.”

“I'm just glad I arrived in time to stop you.”

“Why? What do you care about androids? I thought you hated us. You told me you wished we all were dead.”

“I did, before I met you. But I've learned a lot since then. I couldn't let you do something else you'd regret for the rest of your life.”

“I don't have a choice, Hank!”

There's a long silence.

“Will you trust me?”

Another long silence.

“Yes.”

“Come home with me. I'll take care of you.”

Connor pulls back in shock, though Hank keeps him contained within the hug.

“No… no… CyberLife. They'll find me.”

“You really think that CyberLife gives a damn about you anymore, Connor? With everything else going on? Not a chance. Please, Connor. Come home with me.”

He takes a shuddering breath, dropping his own gun, and leans back in to grip the human tightly.

“Okay.”

From the corner of his eye, Hank sees Connor's LED glow bright red. For a moment, the android's grip tightens, but then he relaxes, his breaths slowing to a steady pace.

Hank lets out a sigh of relief as the young officer melts into his embrace.

Suddenly, Connor tenses in Hank's arms. Hank leans back, putting distance between them, just enough to look Connor in the eye, except the RK800 isn't returning his gaze. Instead, his wine dark eyes are fixated ahead, wide, blank, and unseeing.

"Connor? You alright?" Hank asks nervously.

Connor does not reply, or tilt his head, or do any of the other 300 little idle animations he does. His LED is a steady, unblinking blue. He doesn't even seem to be simulating breathing.

"Connor? Hey, talk to me, kid." He knows his voice is edging near panic, but he doesn't care, giving Connor's shoulder a little jostle.

Connor remains unresponsive for 4 seconds, and then-

his LED turns a bright, burning red, his eyes roll to the back of his head, eyelids flickering up a storm, and he starts falling backwards. Hank watches it all as if in slow motion.

"Whoa, hey, hey, hey-" He yanks Connor against him, lowering him until he's cradled almost in Hank's lap. "Con, help me, what do i gotta do? I know fuck all about androids, so you're gonna have to tell me what to do here." He knows holding a hand to an android's forehead won't tell him anything, that they don't even get sick or cold, but he does it anyways just to have something to do with his hands. "I can't-fuck, just please, be ok. Don't do this to me, please-"

Connor's red LED flickers, once, twice, then holds steady for a moment before dimming slowly until there's no longer any glow, at least not visible to the naked eye. Empty, grey, and lifeless.

"What the fuck?"

A seething rage courses through Hank, mingled with guilt. This was his fault. Not knowing what else to do, he continues to hold Connor, mind racing and trying to understand what had happened to his partner. It had to be CyberLife. This was what happened to their most advanced prototype if it disobeyed.

He jolts as a dim red glow returns to the LED, then brightens, stronger than he'd ever seen before. The android's eyelids blink rapidly, then Connor sucks in a massive breath, eyes opening wide. Hank hurries to reposition the android, attempting to make him comfortable. Connor grips Hank's arm so tightly that it goes numb. Deep breaths turn into frantic sobs.

"Connor! What happened?"

There's no answer. The androids eyelids are closed, but tears escape through them, running down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, son. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

They remain there for a long time, still except for the steady rising and falling of their chests amidst the snow.

The sound of gunshots rings in the distance as the revolution wages on.

#dbh connor #machine connor #connor and hank #dbh hank anderson #hank anderson #dbh fanfic

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penguinmerchant · 8 months

Text

Fanbinding of "Live from New York"

Live From New York by Varnes

Another mostly successful binding! This one is a binding of the most hilarious thing I've ever read, "Live From New York" by Varnes on AO3. Now, I'm gonna put a disclaimer here--I'm not really into MDZS. I've tried watching the Untamed, I've watched the anime, I've tried reading the books, and I've never really clicked with any of it. Basically I know enough about the characters to not be totally confused when I read fanfic and that's it. Which I am super glad about because I am not lying when I say this is the funniest thing I've ever read in my goddamn life.

Process info and more pics under the cut.

So this guy is 87,000 words, give or take a few, which is what I have discovered is the absolute maximum that my guillotine can cut. Good to know if I ever want to do something longer, because it will have to be broken up. And because of some sort of miracle (or maybe it was this thing from Amazon) I managed to cut this thing totally straight. Which if you've read my other posts is a huge first for me. I think the problem was that the text block was just moving around too much when the blade was pressed down, but that little magnetic bastard is tough and it kept everything exactly where it was supposed to be.

The endpapers, a bunny and moon motif that is PERFECT for this book. See, I know enough about Lan Wanji to know that he has bunnies! Anyway, these were silk screened chiyogami paper from etsy and they're beautiful. They're thicker than normal paper and almost like a very thin fabric, but they took to glue super well and I'm so so happy with how they went down (and how cute they are!)

My chapter headings:

And page breaks:

This thing took forever to typeset, but I think it was worth it. And the title page, which also took forever because my printer never wanted to line up correctly:

Anyway, except for a stray piece of HTV making it to the front cover, the exceptionally skinny text on the back cover that went kind of wonky and making the boards just a hair too short this thing came out really well. Also, I don't want to declare that I have solved all of my HTV problems but I'm pretty sure I have solved all of my HTV problems. I got this little sucker after watching someone effortlessly stick down their HTV with it and it worked like a freaking charm. I don't know if it's because it's tiny so you can put more pressure down on it or because it's crazy hot or what (it did scorch the HTV just a little) but everything stuck down great on the first try and I even peeled everything up while it was still hot. I love it. I 100% recommend it for anyone who is having trouble with getting their HTV to stick.

Anyway, I do have plans to make another colorway of this book. I've got a bright pink bookcloth and some turquoise and purple HTV that are just begging to be put to use, and once I can find some suitably good endpapers I'm gonna start on that one. Let me know what you guys think and if you want any more info, please ask!

Also go read the fic because it's hilarious okay bye!

#fic binding #fanfic bookbinding #mdzs #wangxian #htv #bookbinding #ao3 author #also the author seems to have disappeared #but if they see this i want them to know they're great #and also if they want a copy just dm me

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transboysokka · 7 months

Note

This is a big ask so don't feel like you have to, but would you be interested in pitching some summaries of the fics you have up on Ao3? I know there are summaries up there, but I like the casual way you have with words and you say fuck a lot and I dunno yeah

omg this is so funny bc i know the exact way with words you're talking about and of course im not gonna pass up a chance to promote my own work hehe YOU GOT IT!

i have 20 atla fics so I'm going to recommend them in order of... least to most kudos??? to try to trick people into reading more of my stuff? lol idk

I'm 99% sure all of these are Zukka fics...

The Last Five Years - ok actually this is a bad place to start bc i don't think im gonna finish it. it just really didn't take off but um its a The Last Five Years AU with really fucking sad Divorced Zukka

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Cry - this is i think my newest one, it has trans zukka and it's a bit angsty with a fake death but i also think it's kind of fun. it's the idea trans people have of ''who's going to care if my family puts the wrong name on my gravestone?" but there IS a happy ending

A Problem Halved is a Problem Shared - im gonna be honest i dont fucking remember writing this one lol but it says dialogue-only and it WILL be angsty bc it is about zuko and sokka dealing with different issues they have

One Last Time (and its sequel The End of All Things) - Actually OLT is definitely one of my faves I ever wrote. It's my canon-compliant take on um... *cough* Sokka's death, referenced in Korra. It's SO angsty but it has one of the most visceral scenes I've ever written and I DID cry writing this. TEoAT is the happy ending Divorced Zukka deserved with bonus Iroh but you WILL cry reading that too. BUT i cant fucking recommend these ones enough!!!!

If I fade away (the awful things we do to make the head go quiet) - VERY dead dove. trans zuko needs to pay a MASSIVE price to get home to the Fire Nation after Ba Sing Se, and it's not his choice at all. I love this but READ WITH CAUTION

In Which Sokka is Supportive Ally Boyfriend Goals - I am dead serious i like dont remember this one at all but i know it has trans zuko!

Nourishing the Flame Within - not the best written tbhtbh BUT it does have two very important Zukos in it that I hold to be universally true: trans zuko and eating disorder zuko

bad idea right? - okay this is DEF one of my faves lol its about divorced zukka but they just cant stop messing things up and sleeping with each other even though theyre not together anymore lolol

Keeping it in the Family - lmao OKAY SO this is the ONE version of zukka that im like 'ok all u z*tara folks, maybe zuko WAS with her and it obvs didnt work' and then he hooks up with sokka instead and its GREAT but oops now we have Family Drama

Scars of Trust - bro im not gonna like i barely remember writing this one but i remember I LOVE IT and it's about sokka who has been dating zuko a while but he finally learns that zuko is trans? its great

Playing the Long Game - eh, i don't love it, but I'd say it's worth a read. it was my first longer fic in the fandom. it DOES have a great Zukki evolution though if you're into that, and a nice mystery!! Also some whump and angst bc of course

Keeping Score - I liked this one! It's just little snippets of times Sokka has survived assassination attempts, because we always hear about it happening to Zuko, but Sokka gets them too. Angst obviously

It Was Cruel and It Was Wrong - wow, a dead dove fic, yes. It's basically like "If I'm Joo Lee and you're Joo Lee, then who's flying the bison?" Yeah so Sokka and Zuko are both brainwashed by the Dai Lee and Suffering but be careful because this gets DARK

Mother - Izumi has two dads but she feels bad she doesn't have a mom. But guess what, her dads don't have moms either!! She's very happy to find that out! Wow Izumi, way to have some sympathy.

Impact - It's about Zuko taking a longer time to recover from an assassination attempt than he'd want, and Sokka being loving and patient with him! I wrote this when I had a bad concussion for like three weeks and so it's pretty like. Medically accurate lol

Scratchy - Short and sweet. I don't remember this one much but I know that it is fluffy and involves turtle ducks!

Hidden Pain, Shared Love - Another short and fluffy one. It's about the first time Zuko sees that Sokka has problems with his leg sometimes?

Zuko and Sokka Get Engaged in the Most Zukka Way Possible - okay i actually really love this one because it's on brand and cute and also i made it fucking angsty because oF COURSE

Zuko Amongst the Dragons - yes so what if zuko was raised by dragons and met the gaang but he was super feral? and what if shenanigans ensued? AND what if sokka and zuko fell in love anyway????

#quesTian #Anonymous #fic #fic recs #atla #zukka #divorced zukka #trans zuko #trans zukka

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rebel-walnut · 9 months

Text

Let's Do The Time Warp Again

Steddie Season 3 time travel fic, Part 8

Ao3, Pt. 1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7

Eddie doesn't know if he's breathing or not. He doesn't think he is. Doesn't matter anyways, seeing as he's dead.

The super-kid's words are ringing through his ears and all he can hear is not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be alive. He doesn't know what that means for getting back to '86, if he'll go through and die anyways, if they'll come back earlier, later, maybe they'll die in the process. As far as he's concerned, Supergirl just marked his time of death and stamped his forehead 'deceased.'

His breaths are short and shallow, a constant influx of oxygen he shouldn't be allowed to breathe. Taking up someone else's air, someone else's space- what even happened to this version of Eddie? Is Eddie from '85 back where he's currently supposed to be, drowning in a pool of his own blood that isn't really his? Does he just not exist anymore? If Eddie thinks much longer about the implications of interdimensional time travel and clone duplicates he's gonna throw up.

There's pressure on his wrist and the whirling of Eddie's vision subsides enough for him to see everyone staring at him expectantly. Steve has Eddie's right hand clasped between both of his own, and he's rubbing circles across the joint of Eddie's thumb while another finger rests across his pulse. He idly wishes Steve was holding his hand for a reason other than making sure Eddie isn't dead.

Eddie's laugh is cruel around the edges, sharp in a way that it only ever is when he's putting effort into it. The sound hurts his ears. "So this thing- Vecna, or the upside down, whatever- is trying to kill me. Correction- has killed me. Wants to do it again, but sooner," The smile on his face is foreign and forced, he recognizes it as a shadow of his father's own malicious sneer that only ever wreaked havoc. Eddie wants to claw it out of his skin.

Steve presses a touch harder into his pulse point and Eddie wants to scream along with his heart beat. "And! We don't even know if we can get back. Say we can. We get back to '86 where we left off. Then Stevie here," Eddie claps Steve on the chest with his free hand and ignores the vice grip that's somehow still gentle around his wrist, "gets to drag my lifeless, chew-toyed body back out of hell, because it turns out I'm dead anyway! Oh well, c'est la vie, at least I get to live out my last days trapped in a different timeline waiting for imminent death; likely in the form of crushing killer vines that'll pop the eyes out of my skull, creepy mind wizard torture, or more bats ripping tiny chunks of flesh out of my sides until I'm nothing but bone and eccentric fashion choices."

The collective noises from the group could best be described, Eddie would say, as strangled, horrified, and wildly disgusted. Perhaps his monologuing skills leave much to be desired, but sue him. He just found out about his sealed fate, he's allowed to make it slightly funny despite the general aura of horror.

Steve has given up on being gentle it seems, his nails dig in slightly to Eddie's skin and his fingers are wrapped tight enough to block circulation. He's stopped tracing over Eddie's knuckles, opting instead to just hold Eddie's hand still in the tightest grip known to man. The various children keep staring at him with ranged looks of devastation; Supergirl looking concerned but still with the tight set to her jaw that tells him the next words out of her mouth will be a solution to his problem, Red with mostly shock stricken through her eyes but with an undertone of disinterest that he knows she wears for show, and Henderson doing nothing to hide his reaction of absolute guttural horror. Eddie feels a twinge of guilt for subjecting him to his monologue.

"Eddie-" Steve starts but cuts himself off just as fast. He gapes for a second as his eyes burrow into Eddie's, the shock still settling in the air. "We'll find a way. We always do, we're not gonna-"

"No, Harrington!" Eddie wrenches his hand out of Steve's suffocating grip and ignores the way his expression falls. "I know your band of misfits has been at this for a while, but face it. You've lost people. I know you have. None of you should have the far-away look of a veteran when you're all just kids. You've lost people, and I'm gonna be one of them, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. I'm already gone."

Eddie pointedly pushes back the hot prickling in his eyes and forces his way out of the living room, keeping his gaze turned to the floor. He hears deafening murmurs as he leaves, passing by the kitchen on the way to the sliding glass door at the back. He lets it glide shut behind him with a click, wishing Harrington didn't have those fancy spring loaded door stoppers so he could actually slam it. The pool is glinting in front of him, cover half off and folded at the deep end. There's a small collection of leaves circling the surface of the water, catching the glint of the setting sun on their waxy coating. Eddie throws a rock from the edge of the pool at one just to watch it sink.

He shuffles through the pockets of his sweats for a second before finding a crushed half empty pack of Pall Malls and a bic with a melted corner. He's grateful he remembered to grab them from his vest when he changed and managed to salvage what cigarettes he could from the water damage, but he grimaces at Eddie from July of '85's brand choice anyways. He knows he only bought it cause it's cheap, and lights up regardless of his brand prejudice. The cherry glows orange and he takes in almost a third of the cig in one drag, only sputtering a little on the way out. He finishes it in two more drags and lights up another after smashing the butt into the concrete pool lip to snuff it. He's halfway through the second one when he hears the smooth glide of the door open and click shut softly. Eddie doesn't bother looking to see who it is, he already knows it's Steve.

Steve pads up behind Eddie, giving him enough space that Steve's still out of sight. Steve clears his throat but Eddie doesn't turn, just flops down by the edge of the pool and watches the smoke curl around his fingers. The ash falls into the edge of the pool as Eddie flicks it, taking the last drag and letting the acrid buzz wash over him. It stings as it burns down to his fingertips around the filter, but he just watches as the flame trickles out.

The gravel crunches under Steve's shoes as he moves to gingerly sit next to Eddie, his gaze burning a hole into Eddie's cheek. Eddie watches him out of his periphery, Steve glancing between Eddie and the darkening sky with unhidden interest. Eddie fishes out another cigarette and lights it, wordlessly offering it to Steve after the first puff. Their fingers brush as Steve takes it and Eddie can't help but stare at Steve's relaxed posture betrayed by the tension in his shoulders as he takes a pull to rival Eddie's own first drag. He hands it back without looking, slowly releasing the smoke and letting it drift into the wind. Eddie can't help but think it's the sort of thing people write songs and make paintings about. They finish the dart in silence, stealing glances at each other and letting cheap nicotine steady their nerves. Steve clears his throat again quietly while Eddie stubbs the filter against the ground.

"I hate this pool," Eddie glances at him, but Steve's got a mile long stare trained on the surface of the water. "Back in '83-" He cuts himself off as he seems to so often do lately and drops his chin to his chest with a sharp exhale. Eddie brushes his fingers against the back of Steve's hand but doesn't break his silence when Steve meets his eyes. "Barbara Holland went missing from this pool. Died in the upside down because of it- because of me,"

"Steve-"

"No. It's true," Steve presses his hand against Eddie's fingers and he can feel it tremble as Steve looks back out to the water. "I was too preoccupied with trying to impress Nance, impress my friends, my parents. Which, not worth it. At all. Anyway, I was too focused on myself and we lost her, and I just- I didn't fucking care. I don't know if it was a defense mechanism or what, but I just tried not to think about it. Distracted myself with Nance, school, parties, anything to stay away from it. I just didn't want to admit it was my fault she died."

Steve's eyes are glistening a hazel gold in the sunset, a sheen of unshed tears catching the light. It's a melancholy stare, the look of grief and guilt and regret wrapped in one sun kissed gaze. Eddie doesn't know what to do except bump his shoulder against Steve's and hope the contact comforts him.

"And I'm trying to be better. Be the person who would never let that happen, or at least never let it be forgotten. But sometimes I just catch the water out of the window of my room and…" Steve slumps into the comfort of Eddie's arm, his hair tickling Eddie's cheek. His expression is the most broken Eddie's ever seen it, every piece of it shattered and irreplaceable. Each exhale sends a tremor through Steve's body, and Eddie slides the fingers still pressed against Steve's skin around his hand before wrapping his other hand around their tangled fingers and squeezing. Steve gives a half hearted squeeze back, and Eddie pulls Steve's hand to his chest and holds it tenderly between his own.

"All we can do is try," Eddie whispers against their hands, tracing circles across Steve's knuckles just as Steve had done for him. "You can't change your past. And yes, I realize the irony of that statement seeing as we're currently in the past, but," He halts his movements against Steve's hand to face him, Steve already staring when he goes to look. "As much as I hated to admit it before, and as much as it still surprises me now, you're good, Steve Harrington," A wounded noise breaks out of Steve and he leans a fraction closer towards Eddie as if trying to live off his words. "You're good. You're kind, and gentle, and you care about those kids more than anyone I've ever met. You couldn't have known what would happen with Barb. And you're living for her now, which is what matters," The tears brimming in Steve's eyes finally break free at the mention of Barb's name. Eddie lets his composure shatter at the sight, and presses a light kiss to Steve's knuckles.

"You live for her everyday through those kids, through everyone you're so desperate to protect from the things you've witnessed, the people you've lost. What happens- happened to me, it's not your fault. And it won't be again," Steve's shaking his head in little jerking motions that send waves of hair falling in front of his eyes. His hand squeezes between Eddie's and when Steve stops to look at him, the shattered expression is still there but this time it's sewed together with determination.

"You can't," Steve chokes, his grip strong with calloused grief. "We can't lose again, it can't happen. We can't lose you- it can't happen. Promise me it won't," Steve's pleading, their faces inches from each other and Steve's tears are catching on the ridges of his nose and the divot above his quivering lip. Eddie's own cheeks are wet with trails of salt water, and he can't help but clutch Steve's hand to his chest.

"Stevie," He starts, and instantly regrets his next words. "I can't. You know I can't, my fate is practically sealed," His words are hoarse as Steve falls somehow closer to him, their skin buzzing with the proximity and the mourning in Eddie's words. Steve chokes.

"Lie to me."

Eddie chokes. Grips Steve harder and squeezes his eyes shut.

"I promise."

It wrenches a sob from both of them, their foreheads falling together and their hands clutched between them as they suffocate on grief. It's strange to be mourning his own death with a man he didn't talk to a mere week ago, yet their lives have become so intertwined that Eddie can't imagine going through this with anyone else. It's a broken sort of bond that comes with loss, and it's a little surreal to have someone other than his Uncle or Hellfire care this much. Grieve this much.

They're clutching pieces of each other, Steve's hand still wrapped in Eddie's, Steve's other hand tangling in the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck, Eddie's other hand pulling at the collar of Steve's soft blue tee. Their tears cling to their jaws and fall in droplets of the worst kind of rain on the concrete, a few dropping over the edge to mix with the chlorine. Eddie feels the tremor of Steve's sobs all the way up his spine and into his skull, buzzing in his forehead where they're still connected. The ache in their lungs lasts both an eternity and a minute as the tremors and initial grief settles into something worse yet also softer in their bones. It's almost acceptance. But Eddie knows it isn't.

Eddie blinks a few times and waits for his vision to stop swimming, Steve's breath tickling his cheek on every exhale just as Eddie's sure he's doing the same to Steve. Their grasp on each other is heavy in a way that would take years to undo, and Eddie can't stop staring at the way Steve's cheeks are flushed from crying. They're tinged pink across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, and his lips are slick from tears. Another stray tear falls from Steve's eyelashes and Eddie gently raises the hand from his shirt to brush the tear away. Steve leans into the touch and blinks his eyes open, his gaze jumping between Eddie's eyes and back down.

Eddie wills his heart to slow. The edge of mourning is not an opportune time to notice the smoothness of Steve's skin or the flecks of green at the center of his eyes or the way his lips hang open just enough.

But.

Steve is staring at him like he's an answer to something. He's flitting his gaze across Eddie's face, bouncing from eye to eye and landing on his lips, and he's leaning into Eddie's hand still touching his cheek, his skin warm under the movement of Eddie's thumb. He's swaying into Eddie's space, all warmth and softness and presence, and when Steve tilts his head up just a little their noses brush. His lips are parted in a way that would fit the apple from the garden of Eden, ripe and red and tempting. And Eddie is starving.

"Steve," Eddie whispers, more air than voice. Steve doesn't look up from his lips, just tilts his head farther into Eddie's hand. He noses up the ridge of Eddie's nose, Steve's eyelashes brushing against his cheek as he leans a breath closer. Eddie wants to scream.

He thumbs Steve's cheek and pulls just soft enough to guide Steve closer, both basking in the warmth of the other's skin and touch. Steve puffs a breath over Eddie's lips, close enough to feel the sparks between their skin. It's electricity and kindness and grief, and Eddie wants nothing more than to take a bite out of the apple.

What was left of the space between them dissipates as Eddie leans in just enough to brush their lips together, their tear stained skin sticking to each other. It's more of a touch than a kiss; just enough to test the waters, to get a taste of temptation. It's featherlight and golden, a gentle brush of just their top lips. Just to feel. Enough to know that Eddie needs to swallow him whole.

Eddie slides the hand that was cupping Steve's cheek around to the back of neck and runs his fingers through the hair curling there, pulling ever so slightly closer. He's about to bridge the gap between an almost kiss and a real kiss -capture Steve's golden light and sinful lips- when Eddie's vision whites out with a crack of lightning and a shock that rips through his skin.

He lets out a cry and pulls away from Steve to claw at his forehead, frantically scratching and pulling at his skin. There's hornets stinging behind his eyes and biting at his skull, and all he can feel is pain and bright sharpness. It sends a ringing scream through his body that Eddie can barely hear over the pain, sucked into the shards of glass running up his veins and the feeling of acid biting at his skin. It's a sucking, endless feeling, like every bit of energy is being pulled from him and replaced with screeching tones and hot sand that's dissolving him bit by bit.

There's a pressure on his arm and through his staticky tunneled vision he sees Max pulling him up. He can't tell what she's saying, nor can he really see her face, can just make out the shape of fiery red hair. She pulls him up to a half-sitting-half-fetal position. She says something, but it may as well be in a different language. Eddie's being simultaneously cut open and burned from the inside out, his head is switched to ten different radio stations that just play static interluded with guest appearances from the depths of hell, and every inch of his skin is on fire.

Well, Eddie thinks, so much for that kiss. Which is honestly a ridiculous thing to think about when he's on the verge of death, but well, he's a little resigned to his fate. He doesn't want to go through another week or month or year of waiting for something to strike, having episodes of seizures brought on by dark dimensional wizards and whatever the fuck is happening right now. But still. It would've been nice.

His mind swims in an attempt to distract from the blades slicing through his brain, and Eddie thinks he's either become accustomed to it or he's actually dying this time. Again. His body is trembling from the pain and with the way his throat feels raw he thinks he's been screaming this whole time, and he just wants it to be over. Sorry Steve, he thinks. And then.

Fuck. Steve. Steve who is tied to the same freaky upside down shit Eddie is, who is probably about a foot away from him right now and going through something very similar if not the exact same thing.

Eddie pries his eyes a fraction of an inch open which forces out a guttural shriek at the burn raging in his skull, but can once again make out the vague shape of Max still holding him to her chest. There's two other figures of what Eddie assumes Steve and Dustin huddled together in front of him, someone's hand flexing and shaking over Eddie's leg. Another figure is crouched in front of them with one hand facing the pool and one hand towards all four of them. Supergirl.

Through shaking screams and burning skin, Eddie's eyes manage to clear a little despite the constant influx of tears overflowing to soothe the burn that doesn't seem to exist to anyone else. Supergirl is whipping her head between the group of them huddled on the ground and the edge of the pool, and with a scream she plunges one hand into the water and slaps the other on top of Steve's hand that's covering Eddie's shin.

Her fingers dig into Eddie's shin and imprint Steve's palm into Eddie's skin where his sweats have ridden up, and the sensation shocks a cold into his skin that pulses up his body like menthol and chili, the sensation enough to make him convulse inward. The striking cold scrapes along his skull, and suddenly Eddie can see again. The vague figures of traumatized teenagers snap into view and the water in his eyes clears after a second, and Eddie can see the moment it happens for Steve too. The agony on Steve's face smoothes into concern as Dustin keeps yelling likely non-urgent questions at him and shakes at his shoulder. The pain under Eddie's skin is still there, but the burning fires of hell have extinguished into a more manageable stove top fire mishap. His head is fogged and achy, but the ringing and sharpened static in his ears has faded to a manageable level where he can make out at least fifty percent of the noise around him.

Max must notice the difference since she removes her vice grip from his shoulders and leans over to scan across his face. He can see her getting ready to ask if he's okay when Supergirl lets out a howling shriek and throws her head back, crumpling in on herself yet keeping her arms strong against their skin and the water. Steve scrambles up first to Supergirl's side, casting a quick glance into the pool before muttering a string of expletives under his breath and turning to Eddie.

"I need your lighter," He says, and Eddie guesses his voice is in the same commanding urgency he uses everytime the world ends. Eddie shakily reaches a hand across the concrete and fumbles with the lighter a little, giving it a trembling toss over to Steve. Eddie notices the shaking in Steve's hands too, the residual coals left burning under their skin. Steve wastes no time getting to his feet, his balance slightly off kilter but putting no damper on the speed at which he rushes to the door and throws it open, careening to the right and into the kitchen.

Supergirl lets out another cry that pulls Max away from Eddie's side, Dustin already there with her by the edge of the pool. Eddie's pulse is jumping again as he notices the tinge of black around her fingertips, the way it courses ever so slightly up her veins. Steve appears again through the glass doorway with a can of cooking spray in one hand, Eddie's melted lighter in the other. Steve throws out an arm to shove the kids away from the edge of the pool as he crumples to his knees, slamming the cap of the spray on the ground to knock it off and flicking the spark wheel before spraying directly into the flame and emitting a giant fireball that flushes Eddie's face with heat.

Steve aims another fireball into the pool as Eddie struggles to get himself fully upright, clawing his way over to the edge with the rest of them. Supergirl is still letting out shrieks here and there, both her palms flexed towards the water with Max and Dustin holding her steady on either side. Eddie gets to the lip of the pool and peers over the edge to see some sort of bubbling sludge that he loathes to recognize. It's forming from what looks like three points, the dark matter forming tendrils that climb towards the surface, towards them. Steve shoots another stream of fire across the water and Eddie watches as the tendrils recoil and hiss from the sensation.

Steve shoves the can and lighter into Eddie's hands and fixes him with an urgent stare. "Keep spraying," is all he says before disappearing back into the house with his usual grace of a reformed jock. Eddie spots other tendrils rising from the depths of the water to join the surface, and aims his half empty bottle of cooking spray at the largest section, frantically flicking the wheel to spark it. The lighter sputters with a small spark, but no flame.

He strikes the wheel again. Spark. Sputter. Nothing.

Strike. Spark. Nothing.

Strike-

"What the fuck is taking so long, Munson?" Max hollers from beside him, her arms wrapped protectively around Supergirl's shoulders. Supergirl shrieks and the sludge hisses, shrinking a little.

"I'm fucking trying, okay?! It's finicky-" Eddie sparks the lighter two more times still with no luck before Max reaches over and snatches both the lighter and the cooking spray out of his hand. She strikes it twice, the lighter coming to life with a bright orange flame and fanning over the pool with a whoosh as she lets out a stream of cooking spray. She doesn't stop after one stream of fire, instead endlessly holding down the nozzle of the spray and effectively flambéing the matter bubbling on the surface of the water.

"Useless goddamn-" Max mutters as a tendril shrinks in on itself and melts in tandem Supergirl's yell. "-Everything myself," Max drops to her knees and sprays directly at the lip of the pool, burning off a trail of sludge that was trying to slither over. Eddie is terrified of her.

Steve bolts back out of the door with what looks like 2 cans of women's hairspray and another lighter. He barely spares a confused glance between Max and Eddie, but shoves a can at him anyways and flicks the lighter to life between them. Supergirl and Dustin are still slightly farther back in the middle of the group, Dustin practically holding her up as she slowly shrinks back the growing mass of tendrils. Max has worked her way to the edge on the left now, maniacal and determined in a way that makes Eddie think maybe she should talk to somebody about it.

Eddie and Steve stay on the right, Steve holding the lighter between them as he shoots a stream of fire into the middle. Eddie decides to shoot at the edges by the lip of the pool, the sludge still creeping out despite its mandatory near constant regeneration from the combination of the fire and whatever the fuck sort of telekinesis Supergirl is pulling off.

"Is this even gonna work?" Eddie yells, struggling to spray his hairspray through the flame instead of beside it due to their shared custody of the lighter.

"Fire's their biggest weakness, it's all we got," Steve's voice is crackly but still carries the urgency from before as he shoots out towards a tendril rising out of the water, effectively burning it in half as it crumples back to the surface.

There's a clinking noise to his left, and then, "Fuck!" As Max chucks her can to the side and lets it rattle against the ground. "I'm empty," She says, her face fear stricken with only a small facade over it as she glances between Supergirl still shaking against Dustin and Eddie across from her. Eddie hucks his can over to her and hears the almost empty rattle of the can in the wind.

"I'm almost out, but there's still a bit left," Eddie says as he stares into the pool, the mass of sludge smaller than when they started, but not small enough to take out with two half-empty cans of hairspray. Steve's can starts to sputter a moment later, Max's new can likely soon to follow. Steve curses under his breath and aims the last consistent spurt of hairspray at the middle of the mass, left only to shoot small bursts of fire until the can's empty.

"Shit, this one's running low too," Max has given up her tactic of one steady stream of fire in favor of small bursts similar to Steve, both of them shaking the can in between sprays. Eddie hears Dustin gasp to his left and turns just in time to see Supergirl lurch away from him and plunge her hands into the slime. Her fingertips flex at the edge of the sludge and it lets out a withering hiss at the contact, Supergirl seeming to feel the same painful connection as her shoulders seize up and she tosses her neck back.

"El!" Dustin calls and grips onto her shoulders to keep her from tipping into the pool, Supergirl clawing her hands in farther anyways. It rips a scream from her and it rattles in Eddie's ears, echoing off his skull. Her shriek cuts off with a gasp as her head drops forward and her arms go limp, the rest of the fire being sucked from the cans and into the mass of tendrils the second she drops. The suction makes Eddie's ears pop and he watches as the rest of the tendrils collapse in on themselves in a matter of seconds, endlessly folding together in a sick slide of black and blue until nothing remains in the pool. The last thing to disappear is three heavy black drops of slime closest to the edge of the pool, the droplets imploding and ceasing to exist.

The moment it's over both Steve and Max collapse at Supergirl's feet, Steve doing the primary flitting and worrying. There's a stream of blood trailing from her nose down to her chin and it's left spattered drops on the pavement. Her eyes are closed and she's panting against the embrace of Dustin and Max, Steve staying in front of her and tilting her head side to side, checking her fingernails and her pulse. Eddie stays awkwardly off to the side, opting instead to sit a couple feet away and attempt to compartmentalize the past ten or so minutes.

His skin feels fuzzy again, but moreso in a familiar anxiety way than an interdimensional way. He feels lost in the staticy feeling running through his body, letting his vision cloud a little and get lost in the now normal ripples of the water. He thinks he's breathing again.

Steve enters his field of vision, hands up like he's approaching a wild animal and pace slow and intentional. "You feeling okay?" He asks and all Eddie can muster is a nod in return. He looks over at Supergirl.

"She gonna be okay?" Eddie asks and lets himself relax a little at Steve's contented nod.

"Exhausted, definitely, but El'll be fine. We should get her somewhere safe though, who knows what else is tied to this place," Eddie's previous stare into the pool is echoed in Steve's face, both of their expressions a blank sort of anxious.

Steve tears his gaze away from the pool and towards Eddie, extending a hand to help him up. Steve's hand is warm in Eddie's when he takes it and lets himself be pulled up and into Steve's space, relishing in the closeness for only a second before stepping away. Now is most certainly not the time. Not that it would've been before, either. Steve coughs as Eddie steps back and gestures behind him, returning to El who's looking slightly more alert in Dustin and Max's arms, eyelids still heavy though and head lolling onto Max's shoulder. Steve says something to the three of them in a gentle and hushed tone that Eddie doesn't quite catch before scooping El up and tucking her into his chest to bring her inside.

Max and Dustin watch them go, Max getting up first and turning to look at Eddie. She sees the concern on his face before Eddie even realizes it's there, fixing him with a glare and stuffing her shaky hands into the pockets of her shorts.

"I'm fine," She says with a sneer and Eddie puts his hands up in surrender, watching her turn heel to follow Steve and El inside. Dustin does less to hide the fact that he's shaken up, getting up slowly from the ground and shaking out his arms. His breaths are trembling at the end of his exhales, and Eddie just wants to whisk each of these kids away from a seemingly endless childhood of Eldritch trauma.

Eddie gently wraps an arm around Dustin's shoulder, simply quietly giving him support as he lets the kid breathe. Dustin melts into his side, Eddie in turn just melting in general, and rubs circles into his back.

"Wanna go sit inside?" Eddie asks as hushed as possible, leaning in just for Dustin to hear. Dustin heaves another breath with a weak nod of his head and pulls away from Eddie but not out of arm's reach. Eddie offers a weak smile and a squeeze on the shoulder as they join the other's in the living room.

El is laid out on the couch with Max sitting on the floor next to her and dabbing at the blood drying around her nose, both with easy fragile smiles and gentle touches. Eddie does not let Max see him looking. Dustin joins them at the foot of the couch and Eddie stands awkwardly in between for a second before spotting Steve around the corner at the phone.

"...For the most part, yeah. I just don't want anyone staying here… Yeah of course… And I know that we're- well, thank you… Yeah. In about ten. Thank you so much," Steve hangs up with a click as he puts the handheld back down, wringing out his hands and then running them through his hair. He scrubs his hands down his face and takes a moment to breathe a heavy sigh before Eddie sneaks out a bit more from behind the corner to make himself known. Steve catches Eddie out of the corner of his eye and startles anyway with a small jump and a hand to his throat like he's a '50's housewife clutching his pearls. The gesture is both endearing and oddly fitting.

"Fuckin' scared me, man," Steve says and swaps his startled expression for an easy smile that makes Eddie's heart jump. "Just got off the phone with Robin, she's very nicely gonna let us stay at her's for the night despite not really knowing me here. Said her parents are out for dinner with friends and will likely end up crashing at a friend's house," Steve laughs and cards his fingers through his hair again. "She says they're more like teenagers than she is," Eddie gives a half-hearted smile that he tries to pass off as normal, but Steve's brow furrows at it. "You okay?"

Eddie worries his lip between his teeth and pointedly does not notice Steve glance down for a second. "It's just- do you think it'll follow us there? Like, it's tied to this house and probably mine, but also us, right? Is switching locations gonna be enough?" Eddie's voice comes out raw and full of worry despite his best efforts to keep it even, Steve grimacing at him.

"I don't know. But what I do know is we can't get back without El, and she needs rest. Our best bet is getting away from any sort of previous gate or tie to the upside down, and I think Robin is it. She didn't get involved until this year, and it was only ever at Starcourt, nothing happened at her home. Plus, she's far enough from any of the gates that I think it's probably our safest choice," Steve shudders and stares at his feet for a second, then turning an intense gaze to Eddie. "I can't guarantee any sort of total safety. But anything will be better than here for them."

Eddie nods and breaks the eye contact, Steve still staring for a second before dropping his eyes. He fiddles with the drawstring of his sweatpants and toes at the panels of hardwood before narrowing a determined gaze back on Eddie.

"Also I-" Steve swallows and makes an aborted movement towards Eddie, Eddie still just stuck staring and praying he isn't about to have the conversation he thinks they're about to have. He's about to get rejected for his weird almost-kiss and have to play it off like it was just end of the world jitters.

What? Why would you think I wanted to kiss you, Harrington? That was just an accident. You know, how you accidentally share tender and gentle kisses with people you've known for about a week and then have to save the world with?

"I just wanted to- uh…" Steve starts again with no more luck finishing his sentence than last time, just looking semi-awkwardly into Eddie's eyes. Eddie shuffles his feet a little and waits in awkward straight-dude agony for this to be over.

"You just wanted to…?" Eddie tries to help, rip off the bandaid if he must, but Steve just shakes his head and hums.

"Just- wanted to tell you to grab any stuff you need for the night, I'll go tell the kids and I'll meet you at the car," Steve doesn't look at him as he finishes the sentence, practically bolts past Eddie with a clap on the shoulder and rounds the doorway into the living room. Eddie tries not to let it sting too much as he trudges upstairs to retrieve his still sopping clothes. Fucking awesome. He managed to make Armageddon awkward.

_______

This fic is almost done! If i write something this long again I won't be uploading chapters to tumblr, but I will post the Ao3 links so keep an eye out for that.

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#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #shovel writes

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