#this was the most I've written in days and it wasn't even fiction

[studioghibelli]

toothache- a joel miller x reader fan fic

note: hello friends :) this is my first fan fic in a loooong time, and i've been quite inspired by all the lovely joel miller fics i have been reading lately. he's a character i find pretty... alluring. (hehehehe.) it's been quite some time since i've written anything about a fictional character so i hope you all enjoy. any tips, criticism, advice, comments, etc. are always welcomed, so feel free to say anything!

summary: after two long years apart, a failed relationship, and a wasted engagement ring, you and joel reunite at a family christmas party. old feelings come up, arguments ensue, and you somehow end up naked beneath him.

rating: 18+, "mature content" as the kids say, mdni!

word count: 5ish thousand

warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, dbf!joel, big phat huge giant slutty age gap (you pretty much decide, no specific ages actually mentioned, but obvs reader has been legal their entire relationship), no outbreak!au, daddy issues, reader has a bit of an outburst, mentions of christianity, reader is hit by their father once, a delicious bit of angst littered about occasionally, reader just got out of a relationship, childfree!joel, daddy issues, guilt, cocky arrogant charming!joel, a few catty arguments, joel and reader have a PAAAAST, SHMUT (PiV, unprotected sex, creampie, f and m receiving oral, daddy kink, dirty talk, pet names, ehhh i think i got it all.)

Beneath the canopy of glimmering Texas stars, a blanket of dark solitude rested upon your covered shoulders. This night, a chilling, nippy Thursday evening half past eight, was much more calming than most. The wind howled sweetly in the distance, accompanied by the fluttering shake of oak leaves, crisp with the oranges of autumn, browning and crisping at the edges like an overbaked pie crust.

Looking in through the dusty, fogged windows of your childhood home, you saw your mother pacing about, hanging up tinsel and elaborate ornaments throughout the living room, muttering what you could only imagine would be prayers as she dealt with the stress of party planning. Your father sat on a leather arm chair, legs crossed atop the mahogany table, flipping through the channels like a drone, his zombie crusted eyes glazed over with the promise of mindless watching.

The annual Christmas party your parents held religiously each year was tomorrow, Friday the 22nd, at exactly 6PM. You had flown in from the city you had managed to settle in almost three days ago, and were met with all the reasons you had left Austin in the first place. An aggressive and brutal father, a critical mother, and a wallpaper stained room full of regret, slathered with the oil of guilt. Your bedsheets reminded you of him, your pillows were fluffed with images of his graying curls, and the sight of your carpet made your knees burn with the thought of all the times he had you kneel before him.

His hands, rough and calloused by long days working on his truck, contracting out his skills, fixing sinks and mowing lawns for the neighbors. Long fingers leaving trail marks and imprints red with the burn of lust, rough lips that had memorized each part of your neck, your shoulders, your thighs, your collarbones. Your cotton sheets still smelled like him. Like waves of vanilla bergamot wafting through an amber forest, like a night full of sweet promises and well-kept secrets.

Deep down you knew you shouldn't be thinking about him. Especially not right after a breakup. A breakup with the man you had planned to marry. Some mornings you could still feel the weight of the now lost diamond atop your ring finger, somedays you could still smell the citrus of his shampoo, feel the smoothness of his kisses. But he wasn't Joel.

Joel.

You knew it was wrong. You knew you shouldn't have closed your eyes and imagined him, especially not while being fucked by another. But for some reason, some reason completely unknown and foreign to you, you just couldn't burn his image, his taste, his scent from your memory. Whether your ex-fiancé would climb on top of you, take you from behind, lay beneath you- whatever it was he did- you couldn't shake Joel fucking Miller from your head.

"Tha's it, babydoll." A guttural groan seared through your ears like the heavy bass of a song, engulfing your senses with the high burning flames of pride that his praise so often left you feeling. "S'good for daddy."

Joel watched with darkening eyes as your tongue swirled along the tip of his head, licking the precum that leaked from his thick, twitching cock. His fingers had stitched themselves within the yarn of your hair, pulling and guiding you exactly where he wanted you to go. But Joel didn't have to do that much. Oh, no. Not with you. It was as if you were apart of him, as if you knew exactly what he wanted, right when he wanted it. Like you could read his mind. His thoughts were yours to swim through just as much as they were his.

You stared up at him with big doe eyes and, unbeknownst to him, eyes full of adoration. All you wanted was to please him. All you wanted was to taste his cum and feel his love. All you wanted was him. Every day, every night, every morning, every holiday. And although you were young, you were certainly not naive, and you knew why Joel snuck in through your window at night. Not for love, not for deep conversation, not for peace. When he sought you out, he wanted to partake in carnal sin with you. Joel wanted to lick your skin and taste your passion, he wanted to swallow your moans and take you like a wild animal, hungry for a taste of your sweet, devilish nectar.

You gulped thickly in the dead silence of night, staring up at the crescent moon. Thoughts of him filled you dreadfully full to the brim, and all the guilt from the nights you spent dreaming of him and not the man you were supposed to marry, came bubbling up to the surface, choking you. In the end, it was the reason you left your clueless, heartbroken fiancé. You could no longer lie to yourself, you could no longer go about with the it is what it is mindset.

As the night darkened with swirls of purple and navy, and the air grew colder with December chills, you decided it was finally time to go inside. When you got in bed you were met by the absence of his warmth, by the longing for his touch, the smell of his skin, the linger of his fingers. You fell asleep to thoughts of him, dreaming of what once was.

_______

The living room of your old home had been transformed into a winter wonderland full of crimson and gold, the smell of mulled wine and freshly baked bread thick in the air. A crackling fire raged on in the fireplace, filling the room with a warmth not usually found within their walls, and guests were strung about on couches talking, leaning against walls and flirting, and some lingered about the kitchen taste-testing your mother's newest creations.

You wore a simple red dress with black tights and a matching cardigan that would just not stay up on your shoulders, blending in with everyone else for the most part. Your makeup was done, hair perfect, jewelry secured- everything that played a vital role to look presentable at a function held by your parents, you had made sure to do. There was no use in upsetting them, not after the anger and resentment they threw at you when you broke up with that dear sweet boy they thought was just much too good for you.

You rolled your eyes at the thought.

There was a heavy knock on the door that it seemed only you heard, the radio to your left playing a mix of vintage Christmas music you had had memorized since you were a little girl. Setting down the glass of wine, you made your way to the front, slowly opening the door.

A slap in the face of that delicious, panty soaking cologne threw you for a loop. You didn't have to look up from the broad, flannel covered chest to know exactly who it was. Your legs were already shaking, mouth already watering. Yet, despite this, anger drummed within your chest, tugging at your heart with its gnarled, sharpened claws.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his own. Those honeyed orbs that reminded you of the earth after a fresh rain, deep and knowing and mysterious and.... perfect. Always so perfect, so beautiful.

"Joel Miller." You stated, much more plainly than you thought you could ever muster.

"Well hello there darlin'. Long time no see." He purred so sweetly you would have missed the sarcasm if you weren't properly listening. A shit eating smirk tugged at his lips, hidden behind the dark moustache you had become well acquainted with many moons ago. "You sure look pretty. Did ya' miss me?"

A tight clench to your jaw caused your teeth to hurt, nostrils flaring with the heat of aggravation. Your body deceived you, crying out for his touch. It didn't forget all those orgasms he gave you, all those marks he left. How could it?

"No. I did not." You finally lied right through your teeth, cementing your fate in the fiery pits of hell as you grudgingly allowed him to enter.

Joel still towered over you menacingly, and it made your thighs press against themselves. He stared at you, long and hard, taking you in like a drunkard scanning the liquor aisle. "No ring?" He finally spoke.

"No. I left him."

He sniggered, raising an eyebrow. "Probably 'cause you were thinkin' about me too much."

"Just go get some beer, talk to my dad, and leave me alone!" You finally snarled, narrowing your eyes at him. Joel raised his hands in silent defense, shot you a wink, and left you standing in the foyer like a dumb, lost fool.

All night you tried to avoid him. Despite this pact you made with yourself, your eyes always managed to wander towards him, and he always managed to catch you staring. He never approached you about it, he just tilted his lips in a smirk and went right back to whatever conversation he was apart of, nursing a dripping bottle of Modelo, with that damned smirk never leaving.

It wasn't until dinner was being served that you noticed your place card settled right beside his. Great. You groaned.

"It's too late to change places now. You should have told me earlier." Your mother scolded you for your audible discomfort, setting down the casserole dish of sweet potatoes. "Next year, tell me in advance. Instead of waiting last minute and moping about!"

"Yes ma'am." You muttered.

A group of men walked in discussing football amongst themselves, and the remaining chairs were soon full of their laughter and conversation. Joel sat down beside you, smoothing out his jeans with those perfectly roughed up hands. You glanced down at them, tracing his knuckles and nail beds with your eyes. You began chewing on your lower lip, and he had no doubt what you were thinking of.

"Betcha' missed these hands. Hmm?" His voice was so quiet, only you could hear. "These fingers, too."

"You are the most arrogant fucking man in the entire universe, Joel Miller. Has anyone ever told you that?"

His eyes lit up with delight. You stared into them, old memories and feelings you had tried to suppress rushing to the forefront of your mind. The sting of guilt filled your heart. "You jus' did, darlin'." You groaned again, quietly this time, and your ears twitched in annoyance at the sound of his sly chuckle.

"Let's say grace." Your father held out his hands, that fake smile of his stretched out across his face, painfully taut and insincere. He wore a pitiful clown mask. Always had.

You took the hand of the person to your left, someone your mother used to know from a Bible study, and with an annoyed eye roll, grabbed Joel's hand to your right rather brutally. The roughness of his palm felt warm and familiar, and Joel took note of how your legs squeezed together at the initial contact.

"Our father..." Your own began, and you slowly turned to face Joel.

His tongue swiped across his lower lip, his eyes shut as he did his best to listen to the falsehoods your father peddled, about family and togetherness and the giving season of Christmas, and so on so forth.

But Joel wasn't stupid.

He felt your gaze burning holes right through him, and had no problem cracking open an eyelid to meet your line of sight. Your cheeks burnt with embarrassment, and you quickly looked away, too nervous, too scared, too everything to meet those chocolate orbs again.

His thumb circled itself across your knuckles, the rough pad of his digit igniting a fire within you, and you felt his arm slowly moving your entwined hands down towards your thigh. You didn't stop him. How could you? He let go of your grasp, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sheer tights, lifting your dress up ever so slightly. His short nails danced across your skin, lightly tracing shapes and letters against it. Slowly crawling higher, higher, higher....

"- We love you, our good and almighty Father. Amen."

Joel took his hand away, and no one was the wiser.

No one except you. You cleared your throat quietly, beginning to pass around the fresh, steaming food to those nearest of you.

For a while you stared at your plate. Honeyed ham, whipped potatoes, sauteed green beans, crisp broccoli. None of it sounded good. You poked around with your fork, chewing on your lip as you mindlessly paid attention to the conversation bustling around you. Joel was immersed in a conversation with your father about the NHL or NFL, you didn't know because you didn't really care, and your mother was laughing with her friends about shared nail salon stories and talks of their husbands.

"You know, our daughter could have had a husband by the New Year." Your mother finally said, pointing the rim of her wineglass towards you. The blood colored liquid sloshed against the transparent glass, dribbling down the side like falling tears.

Looking up from your plate, you faked a smile. "Yep. Could've."

"Can you believe this girl, Joel?" Your father finally spoke, shoving a fork full of casserole into his wide mouth. "He was perfect, really. Polite, hard working, on his way to law school. Apparently she doesn't know what's good for her." He was practically guffawing, his eyes rolling with each syllable.

Joel turned, looking at you. His brows were knitted together, lips slightly parted, and he looked at you with a curiosity you had not seen him show before. You cleared your throat once more, finally taking a bite of your potatoes and steering away from his burning gaze.

"You're right, dad. I don't know what's good for me."

"When I was her age, phew..." Your mother wiped the fake sweat from her brow, her friends joining her in a choir of laughter. "Let me just tell you, I never would have let a catch like that go. He was so handsome, too."

"Why'd you even leave him, anyways? You never did tell us. Your poor mother was up all night crying when you finally broke the news."

You dropped your fork with a loud clang against the porcelain of your mother's finest China, shrugging your shoulders with an exasperated groan. "You know, I don't really know. I guess I just felt like it!" You lied, your tone dripping with annoyance, soaked with the familiar hiss of sarcasm. "I guess- well you know me- my tiny little female brain can't possibly comprehend what's good for me!" Abruptly, you stood up from the dining room table, narrowing your eyes.

"Don't talk to your father like-"

"You want to know why I really left him, pops? Are you dying to know?"

His cheeks had puffed up like the chest of a mating bird, eyes darkening dangerously quick as he stared daggers into your soul, praying and hoping you would keep talking. Anything for an excuse to have a go at you. "Why?" His voice was low, yet still inquisitive.

"Because the only time I could cum was if I was thinking about another man. Are you happy now? He couldn't please me. He was lazy. Annoying. Li-"

Whack.

Right across the face. A searing hot poker branding your cheek with a hefty, molten, angry slap. His tongue swiped the inside of his cheek, yellowing teeth gritting against themselves so hard you could have sworn you heard a crack. He had his finger pointed, ready to pull the trigger and unleash a spew of cusses and shouts your way, before he was stopped by Joel's deep, anger laden voice.

"Hey!" Joel had jumped up on his feet with lightning fast reflexes, and the room had gone eerily quiet. "Come on now, man. That ain't how we treat ladies." He had grabbed your elbow to help steady you, your head dizzy and eyes clouded with prickling tears. Your father shot daggers at you, paid barely any mind to Joel, and stormed out of the room, steam bellowing from his ears.

Joel looked at your mom, the deep crease settling in against his forehead. "I'll help clean 'er up. Jus' stay here and enjoy the rest of your dinner." He managed a charming smile despite the anger brewing inside the tightness of his chest, and you walked alongside him as he led the way to your room.

Your room.

Joel found the lingering scent of vanilla and tobacco candles filtering in through his nostrils, the familiarity transporting him back to nights dripping with the silver hue of the moon, the softness of your skin and the swirling of your tongue heavy at the forefront of his memories. It reminded him of your gaze, hungry and devilish, the sharpness of your incisors biting into his skin as he took you hard, as he took you rough, as he made you his. The whisper of your sweet voice, the feeling of your chest against his, the way you made him dizzy with the addicting high of desire.

Now is not the time. Not now, while you held your cheek and stared angrily at your wall, tears of both resignation and resentment pooling, your mascara flaking by the corners of your eyes. He felt a bit like a horned up asshole, admittedly.

Joel crouched in front of you. His jeans spread tight against the thickness of his thighs, the top buttons of his flannel unbuttoned, giving you access to the golden hue of his chest. Now is not the time, you thought to yourself. Not when you wanted to be angry at him, not when you craved to push him away.

"You are the last person I need taking care of me." You snarled. "I-I-" A hiccup erupted from your mouth, a shaky sob leaving you. You were embarrassed by the fact you had crumbled so quickly. "Just leave. Like.... like you did the last time."

"The last time?" He spoke incredulously. "Is your brain workin' properly?" You stared bitterly in his direction, arms now crossed over your chest. "I don't know if you remember, but you're the one that left me."

You sat in silence, top lip curling with confusion. "I asked if you wanted to come with me..."

"To some fancy city hundreds'a miles away from my home? Just up an' startin' a completely new life? That's what you were askin' me to do, babydoll. It was you who decided to leave." His fingers found their way to your knees, his voice calm yet firm. He gave them a tight squeeze, letting you know he was there, that he was present, that he wasn't planning on letting go.

"Are you blind? Did you not just see what happened out there?" You sniffled, wiping your runny nose on the sleeve of your black cardigan. You didn't push his grip away, not when it felt so warm, so good. "I had to leave, Joel."

"If you woulda asked, instead of running off all impatient like ya' did, I would've taken us somewhere. Southwest.... Dallas, maybe. I-I haven't put much thought into it." A complete lie. Even Joel couldn't convince himself of that.

Oh, he had thought of it alright. Day and night, when all he had was his right hand to keep him company, when you were far away sleeping with that kid who wasn't him. For the first time in his life, he had found himself feeling jealous. Jealousy caused by a woman he had no business being so fond, so infatuated, so in love with. A part of him felt ridden with guilt, unsure of the implications your relationship had. The other part didn't give a flying fuck.

"You.... you really would’ve?" Your voice was quiet, barely a whisper. Joel felt his heart tight against his chest. It hurt for you.

All he did was nod.

"And I-and I left you!" You wailed into your hands, falling against his chest. "I fucked it all up!"

"Shh." He held you quietly, his heavy palm rubbing circles into your lower back, gently thumbing the fabric every so often. "S'alright, now. I'm here. I've got you, babydoll."

"I can't even imagine how you felt." You mumbled into his ear, your fingers finding a stray curl behind it. "Knowing I was off with some idiot." A thick stutter of breath got caught in your throat, your nose still sniffling. "I thought of you everyday."

Joel nodded against your head. "I know, I know you did."

"Now is not the time for your ego-"

He cut you off. "I know, because I did too. And me and you? Well, I always thought we were entwined. One in the same. Same typa' fabric, or cloth or.... somethin'."

You pulled away, blinking slowly. "Are you being romantic with me?"

He nodded slowly.

You weren't quite sure what to do, you just stared at the man before you, heart pounding, eyelids fluttering. He moved his hand higher up your leg until he reached your waist, tightly holding it. His fingers grasped into your skin, gently keeping you in place for his eyes only. Joel savoured your presence, taking in every inch of you that he hadn't seen for what felt like a lifetime.

"Will you get up here... with-...." you trailed off for a moment, slightly worried, "-with me?"

"I was startin' to think you'd never ask." He climbed up on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. Joel pat his hands on his lap, beckoning you to come closer and take a seat on him.

"Maybe.... take those off?" You pointed to his jeans, chewing on the inside of your cheek. A smirk graced his mouth, and he nodded in silent agreement, quickly kicking off his worn leather boots and denim jeans. You settled down on his lap, legs on each side of him as you straddled his waist, nose to nose with him.

You had always adored his nose. Slightly curved, with a beautiful bridge that ever so slightly jutted out. Joel was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and you had seen many men. The crows feet by his eyes had deepened since the last time you saw him, and his curls had been salted with more strands of white. His cheeks were scruffy with prickly facial hair, but his thick moustache had always remained the same. You gently ran your finger across it, setting your palm against his cheek.

He leaned closer to you, fingers brushing a few stray hairs away, before planting his lips against yours in a deep, sensual kiss. Your stomach awakened with butterflies, fluttering and kicking against your rib cage, before all you could taste or smell was Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

That's all you heard in your mind.

Joel's fingers crept towards the heat of your middle, and he let out a deep grunt of frustration when he realized you still had on your pantyhose. It didn't take long for him to quite literally rip them off, setting you back down on his lap as he held you tight and close, almost fearful of letting go. His thick finger traced down the middle of your cotton underwear. Joel felt the wetness pooling at the front, and he smiled a genuine smile against your mouth.

All for me, he thought to himself.

"Look at me."

You pulled away, his lips now stained like cherries from your lipstick, his hair slightly disheveled and out of place. He took a hard swallow, gently running his hand down the side of your face, burying it in your hair.

"Let me make you feel good."

You nodded quickly, falling back on the softness of your mattress.

He peeled your cardigan off, followed by your dress and his own shirt, and you were left with nothing but your mismatched bra and panties, a picture of perfection laid out before him. His hands trailed down your belly, its supple softness a stark contrast to the well-worked leather of his aging hands.

Joel slightly shook his head. "You're so beautiful." He leaned down, planting a kiss to your stomach, his chin resting on your cloth covered mound. "But you already knew that." You giggled softly to yourself, rolling your eyes as you gently cupped his head in your hand.

"If I didn't before, I certainly do now."

He fingered his digits through the hem of your underwear, quickly discarding them and throwing them off to the side. "Ain't she a 'beaut..... now that's somethin' I've not seen for quite some time." He pushed your legs apart gingerly, face to face with your pink, glistening pussy, open and laid bare for his eyes only. You saw the thirst swirling around in the orbs of his eyes.

Joel circled your swollen clit with the tip of his index finger before gently pushing it into your opening, smiling to himself as he heard your wetness. A quiet moan escaped you, and you gently brushed your thumb against the corner of his eye, staring down at him.

He was so handsome. So handsome. That's all you could think of as his fingers continued their much welcomed exploration of the folds of your labia. Joel relished in the slick coat of your glistening arousal on his fingers, and he felt his jaw tighten with a mouth watering craving for the sweet taste of your cum in his mouth.

He couldn't hold back anymore.

He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around your throbbing clit. It elicited a long moan from your lips as you tried your hardest to remain quiet, your stupid family’s Christmas party still playing its scenes just outside your door. Joel swirled the tip of his tongue against your button, his big hands holding your thighs in place.

"Oh, Joel." You mewled quietly, fingers knotting themselves in his hair. "Right there baby, right there."

He hummed against the folds of your pussy, tracing shapes with his tongue, altering between slow and quick, soft and hard. He knew just what you liked, just what you wanted from him, and he had no problem entertaining your wishes.

Joel pulled away, pushing his middle and ring finger inside your entrance, its tightness engulfing him right up to the knuckle. He groaned, knowing how good you felt stretched out on his cock like the good girl you always were, always had been, for him.

"Jus' like this, darlin'?" He muttered, already knowing the answer. Your eyes met his, as he slowly pressed up against the spot he knew made you go crazy.

"Mmhm." You whimpered, holding his curls even tighter. "Need to cum, Joel."

"Ask nicely, baby. Where are your manners?"

"Please. Please. I want you to cum for you, daddy."

"That's better." Joel growled a primal growl deep in the confines of his throat, leaning back down and sucking your clit into his mouth.

If there was one thing Joel loved without a doubt in this life, it was eating your pussy. He loved pushing his nose into your clit while he fucked your folds with his tongue, he loved overstimulating it after a particularly violent and shattering orgasm, he loved teasing it with feather light touches. He loved feeling you squirm, hearing you whimper, listening to his name like a prayer on your lips. You chanted his name like he was your God, your savior, your protector. You chanted his name like it was the only name you had ever learned. And by God did it get him riled up.

Joel shoved his tongue further inside of you, tasting your sweetness, lapping it up like a dog who had just found water after days of searching.

"Damn honey, gonna give me a fuckin' toothache with the way you taste. So fuckin’ sweet. So good.” His voice was raspy with desire, fingers fucking you deep and hard, your clit trembling between his lips.

"Oh, God.... oh, daddy."

"Tha's it, babydoll. You gonna cum for me?"

"Oh!" You cried out softly as his fingers pressed against your g-spot, his tongue swirling across your clit steadily and firmly. You were on the brink now, right at your breaking point. He kept up the sameness of his movements, repeating each step as perfectly as the last. It only took a few blinks, and waves of pleasure came rushing across your body, flooding all your senses as your ears rang with your first proper orgasm in God only knows how long.

"Daddy, daddy, Joel, oh-fuck me-Jesus, oh, God." You had no wits about you, blabbering and muttering like a fool, clawing at his scalp and pulling his hair until his eyes burnt.

Joel pulled away from your clit and placed the flat of his tongue against your folds, slowly licking you from bottom to top, before his mouth rested on your sensitive button once more. He planted a deep kiss against it, making sure he didn't miss an ounce of your dribbling cum.

"Was that nice?" He asked smugly, his facial hair coated and shimmering with your juices. He already knew the answer his question would elicit, he just liked being a bastard sometimes.

"Mhmm." Was all you could manage.

Your eyes wandered down to his remarkably tight boxers, his bulge tenting up against the fabric. "Fuck me." You whispered. "Please."

"So polite." His voice was like a purr, and he shot a cocky smile your way. "Yeah, I'll fuck you alright. Daddy's gonna make that pussy feel real nice." His deep Southern drawl sent shivers down your spine, his voice so deep and raspy. All man, Joel Miller.

He climbed on top of you, his arms on each side of your head, cradling your face as he looked down at you. Your gazes met, and a lovesick smile broke across your face. "God, I missed you."

Joel had to strain his ears to hear you properly. "I missed you." He admitted in turn.

He grinded against you, his boxers coated in your arousal. You felt the thickness of his cock pressing deeper into you, and your moans of want, no- of need- were all that filled his ears. "Want me to fuck that lil' pussy?"

"Please. Please, daddy."

"Don't think I'm gonna go easy on ya' just because it's been a while." He chuckled into the crook of your neck as he pulled his boxers down, his dick springing out with a gentle slap against your thigh.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"That's my girl." The head of his dick was pressed against your entrance, and he met your forehead with his own. Your noses melded together, lips brushing against the other, and Joel pushed in with one swift motion.

You couldn't help but gasp. "Jesus Christ. Feels so good, Joel."

"You're so fuckin' tight."

Your nails gently dug into his shoulders at the sound of his voice. Deep, guttural, primal. His eyes were blinded with archaic desire, lip caught between his teeth as he watched your face with every thrust, every twitch. Joel thought you looked perfect beneath him. A portrait of angelic beauty, for his eyes only. Smooth skin, a dazzling smile, eyes full of emotion reserved just for him- he felt like the luckiest man in the world, getting to take you just like this. His thumb swiped a strand of hair that had strayed away from your scalp, and he nuzzled his prickly cheek against yours, causing a faint burning sensation that felt too good to pull away from.

“Joel?” You muttered quietly into his shoulder, your fingers cascading down the center of his broad shoulders.

“Y’okay babydoll?”

“Joel, I-” Your forthcoming soliloquy was cut off by a moan from the back of your throat, and your fingers grasped ahold of his curls even tighter, his face scrunching up with a pained wince. “Sorry. I-”

Joel’s thrusts were deep, hard, slow, he hit every spot he knew made you shiver, every spot he knew made you drool and gasp for him. He loved watching your face contort with pleasure, the way your eyes would go wide and nostrils flare with every deep breath, the way your tits looked as your chest inflated with gasps of air.

“What was that?” His words were laced with smugness. He was making you feel this good. He was. Joel Miller was the luckiest man in the world, getting to fuck your pretty pussy.

“I just wanted to say- I- Oh!” His cock twitched inside of you, and you could feel his own orgasm soon approaching. “I just wanted to say thank you.” Followed by a whimper that made Joel’s stomach twist with some fancy feeling he hadn’t felt for quite some time.

“For?” He muttered between each thrust, eyebrows knitted tightly together as he focused on his movements, one of his hands holding himself up, the other buried against your head, warm beneath the comfort of your hair.

“Everything. What you did for me earlier, oh-oh! Mmm. Yeah, right there. And-and how you take care of me. How you make me feel.”

Joel nuzzled his forehead closer to your own, eyes dead set on the other, lips brushing together. You felt his fingers gripping tighter, teeth clenched, eyebrows tightly together. For a moment you wondered if you shouldn’t have said what you said, or perhaps waited until a better time, but Joel quickly relieved you of the negative thoughts creeping in, and kissed you with a fervent passion he didn’t know was inside of him.

You moaned against his mouth, tugging at his curls, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he kept his pace.

“Makin’ me blush.” Joel groaned out once he pulled away, nodding a bit as if he were giving himself an internal pep talk before continuing his speech. “Thank you for lettin’ this old fool take care of you.” You giggled softly, shaking your head in disapproval.

“You’re not an old fool.” Peppering his face in soft, gentle kisses of affection, you laid your head back down and stared up at him. “You’re just old.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter how old I am, darlin’. Still gonna make you cum for me.”

You let out a soft moan at his promise, feeling his hand snake down to your pussy once again. His middle finger began tracing circles in your sensitive clit, wet and welcoming as he filled you up to the hilt with his thick cock. He had never felt something so good, so sweet. He figured he must have been the luckiest man in the world, and he knew he was an idiot to have willingly let you go so many moons ago. Joel figured he could have saved you from a lot of heartbreak and restless nights.

Your walls clenched tightly around him, and you felt that familiar sensation of an oncoming high brewing within your stomach. “Gonna cum, daddy. Gonna cum for you.”

“Yeah? You gonna cum all over this dick? Like the good girl you are?”

That did your head in. That was the final nail in the coffin. You had to bite down on his shoulder, hard, to muffle the sounds of your orgasm, your pussy contracting against his dick as he rode you through your orgasm, making sure to hit that spot as he did so.

It wasn’t long until you felt his own orgasm coming in the form of sloppy pushes and muffled grunts. Sweat had started beading up at his forehead, stray curls sticking down in every which way, and you held his face in your hands as you watched the emotion enter and leave his masculine, solemn features. There was nothing quite like watching him finish inside you. His jaw would clench, his forehead would wrinkle, and his eyes would always meet yours as he pushed his nose into your cheek, whispering your name like it was a promise. And this time was no different.

Joel held you tight, stuck to you like glue as his orgasm washed through him, and when it faded away he was still holding you against his hot, sweaty chest, hands in your hair and mouth on your neck.

“Oh, Joel.” You murmured, brushing his hair back.

There was a long moment of silence as he caught his breath. Finally, he spoke:

“Let me take you away from here.”

Swallowing a thick lump that had been forming in the back of your throat, you propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him curiously. “Right…. right now?”

“I should’ve done it two years ago. I should’ve…. should’ve known what was goin’ on. If I knew he hit you like that-”

“It isn’t your fault, Joel. I shouldn’t have….” Taking in a shaky breath, you scooped his hand into your own. “Take me anywhere you want. Anywhere in the world, and I’ll be by your side through it all.”

Joel looked at you with a glimmer in the darkness of his eyes, and in that moment he knew just what he had to do. He would move mountains for you if it meant keeping you safe, he’d climb Mount fucking Everest if he had to, and in that second your eyes met, he promised himself harm would never, ever come to you again.

In the silver light of the moon that came swirling in through the transparent curtains of your room, he had never seen you look so beautiful. He knew he was in love, as your big eyes stared up at him, full of hope and adoration. He knew he would do anything it took to take you away from this God forsaken place that had caused you so much harm.

He would be your protector, until the day he died, and no harm would come to you under his watch. As he took your face in his hands and professed his love through deep kisses, that was all he knew. You, and the deep, lovely feeling that you would always be for him and his eyes only.

Oh, if only Joel knew the world would be ending soon.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #tlou fic #joel tlou #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x reader #fan fiction #fan fic writing #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel the last of us #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #smut #tlou smut #tlou series #tlou hbo #pedro pascal x reader

[krystalcat]

Keep It To Myself

ღ Pairing: Jeong Yunho x fem!Reader

ღ Genre: Smut, angst

ღ Word count: 5,4k

ღ Warnings: cheating, toxic relantionship, voyeurism, reader is Yunho's lover,fwb with Mingi, unprotected sex (big no), creampie, fingering, oral (giving and receiving), dom!Yunho, sub!reader, yunho is massive, pet names(bunny), repressed feelings, praise kink, dacryphilia, rough sex?, lots of teasing, a sprinkle of degradation?, lmk if I forgot anything

ღ Summary: It's hard to keep your hands to yourself when someone like him crossed paths with you. Too bad he wasn't yours to begin with, but it's not like he cared anyways.

ღ Notes: This is the first time I'm writing smut fanfics. It's also been a long time since I've written anything. I hope you like it and I'm very open to (constructive) criticism! Also, English is not my first language and I haven't proofread this, so it's very possible to have grammatical mistakes or sentences that don't make much sense in English. I also got inspired by Elise's Keep It To Myself, so check that out! I'm also not entirely happy with how this turned out, but I figured it was best to post it before rewriting the plot for the 3rd or 4th time lol

ღ Disclaimer: This is only fiction, by writing this I am not trying to represent the member(s) in any way.

You tried studying in peace, but it was difficult when your roommate and his girlfriend were arguing for what it felt like the fiftieth time that week. After months, you still didn’t get used to it.

Despite not being close friends, you didn't think Yunho was the problem, since there was never gossip in your group of him being a toxic person, and the more passionate fights you heard, it was confirmed.

You saw his girlfriend’s behaviour regarding their relationship and Yunho: restricting who he spoke to, deleting his girl friends’ contacts on his phone, getting angry if he doesn’t answer quickly. You’d sometimes even laugh to yourself, saying she was another roommate - the only difference between her and you being the unpaid rent - so those atitudes weren’t hard to miss.

Hell, sometimes you even wondered how she never made a fuss of him having another woman as his roommate, at least you never heard an argument about that.

What bugged you the most was why the hell he wouldn’t break up with her, because he does recognize she’s not a good girlfriend, his screams coming from the kitchen confirm that. Their arguments have just gotten more frequent and boorish over time.

But now it wasn't only their fights that made you distracted. You would be lying if you said you didn't have a slight crush on Yunho when you first became roommates, always so polite and gentle whenever you both were in your home. But that's just him being nice and a good person, and after he had gotten a girlfriend you knew your feelings had to go away, which wasn't particularly easy since you both shared a house, but you still managed to do it.

The problem now? They came back stronger than ever. You knew that if you spent more than five minutes in the same room as him, you’d leap onto his arms and his girlfriend would literally kill you. Why? For the past two weeks or so right after they fight, they have some sort of angry-make-up sex, making you unable to control your fantasies.

Hearing Yunho’s groans and moans for the past days made you start having a sexual attraction towards him, and pleasuring yourself to them has been your guilty pleasure. You knew it was wrong, no amount of problems with her would make it okay for him to cheat, but God, the things you would do to switch places with her on that bed.

In the middle of the day, you would suddenly imagine the most filthy and nasty scenarios that made you crave those hands on your cunt, those lips on your breasts and his cock pounding deep inside you. You were addicted to something you hadn’t even try before.

You put down the pencil you were holding when you heard moans coming from Yunho’s room - his moans. Quietly making your way to your bed, you took your shorts and panties off, then laying on your bed.

“F-Fuck, Jiyeon” His faint deep groans sent a shiver down your spine. You suppressed your moans as you rubbed circles on your clit, adjusting your pace to the volume of Yunho’s moans, imagining it was you who made him feel that good and all the indecent things you would let him do to you.

Despite everything, you swore to yourself you’d keep this desire to yourself, that you would never flirt or makes moves on Yunho while was on a relationship.

But that is so fucking hard when he didn’t help you to repress your yearnings at all.

«---- ღ ----»

While binge watching your favorite show, you see Yunho walking out from his room, completely dressed up: white buttoned-up shirt adorned with a black tie, black oxfords and pants that matched his dark blue suit. He checked himself out on the mirror in the living room, “I’m going out and probably won’t come back until tomorrow noon”.

“Got it” Your attention returned to the screen in front of you, hearing his shoes clicking on the floor and the front door shutting.

After maybe a episode or two, you heard the front door opening, hearing Yunho knocking his shoes on the entrance. You turned your head around to be met with a pissed Yunho.

“Didn’t realize it was tomorrow already” You snorted as he entered his room, gaining a grunt from him.

He went back to the living room, standing in front of the tv. You’d probably roll your eyes, if he wasn’t with the first four buttons unbuttoned. My God were you really malfunctioning just because of a little cleavage? You had no shame at all, “Yn I’m not in the mood for jokes right now”.

Quickly admiring his figure, you tried your best to not look affected by his looks, “Do you want to vent or need advice? If not, let me watch my show” His fingers massaged his temples, making him sigh.

“It’s nothing much, but would you really listen to me?” He sat next to you, positioning his elbows on his knees and turning his head to you, you paused you show and sat in a more comfortable position, your body facing his. Now this was unexpected, Yunho was always a reserved person who didn’t want to bother other people with his problems.

“She was supposed to meet me almost two hours ago for dinner and she’s not answering my texts or calls. We aren’t in the best terms lately and I’m scared, for us and her as well”

“Do you know were she might have gone?” He shook his head lightly, “Look, I don’t want to be rude, you don’t have to answer me, but why are you even with her?” He gazed into your eyes, opening his mouth to speak, only to close it again and divert his gaze from yours.

“I’ll have some drinks” He got up, “I’m not mad at you for asking that, I just need to clear my thoughts” He grabbed the keys he had previously left on the kitchen table, heading to his way out.

The butterflies in your stomach meant you should leave him alone, that you shouldn’t spend any sort of quality time together with him, it would melt your mind, making you bound to do something stupid. At the same time, you were worried Yunho would get himself in trouble, that he would let’s his emotions get the best of him, and you couldn’t bear something happening to him.

“Absolutely not” You got up from the couch heading towards his direction.

“I just want to be alone”

“Yeah but I’m not letting you go through that door”You crossed your arms as he stared back at you, “We don’t need to talk further, but stay here for a moment to collect your thoughts, I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret tomorrow, ok?”

He looked at you, to his feet, then getting up and going to his room. You sat back down, diverted your gaze and resumed the show, thinking he would disregard your words and go on with his life.

“What are you watching?” You jolted a little when he sat next to you - maybe a little too close for your liking, stomach doing flips and cheeks heating up - now dressed in black sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

And that’s how you two got closer, dangerously too close, because if being in the same room with him before was hard, now it was arduous. You both would now steal little glances at each other, he would flash you little smiles. When Jiyeon wasn’t there, you’d both tease each other while doing mundane tasks, which was mostly borderline flirting.

Also by some miracle the huge fights stopped, only small arguments here and there. Maybe Yunho did it out of respect for you and the conversation you both had that day, maybe Jiyeon just happened to be in a good temper, who knows. Everything seemed perfect: their relationship was great, no more angry sex, so that attraction towards Yunho disappeared and you had no more guilt looming over your head.

However, after that step forward, you took 100 steps back, because you were now having actual feelings towards Yunho. His smile brightens the room, his touch sends waves down your spine, his presence makes you feel giddy, his teases and flirts make your heart flutter. You had no idea how you got yourself in this situation, perhaps getting closer to him was the last thing you should’ve done to the greater of your sanity.

Your heart spoke louder than your mind, since you couldn’t distance from him once again, not now when you both are friends, and you know what a gentleman and nice person he is, you loved having him around.

What was your next move then? Getting someone else to replace your attraction towards Yunho, which you found quite hard, since you didn’t know many guys, let alone the ones that are both single and decent. Maybe that was a shitty move from you, but it’s still way better than playing around with someone who’s committed.

Lucky you, a few days later Yunho’s friends - who you already knew - came over to play some video games with him, and one of them ditched the hangout to make some moves on you.

“Sooo, are you single?” He asked, leaning on the wall as you made some noodles for dinner.

You laughed at his question, “You know I am Mingi” The tall guy approached you, “Just making sure, I find it hard that a beautiful woman like you is all alone”

“You sure know how to flatter someone” You giggled, turning your head to him with a smirk on your face “What do you want Mingi?” His confident attitude dropped as he widened his eyes, making you laugh lightly “Cat got your tongue? I know you want something, I just want to know what it is”

He cleared his throat, then asking “I-If I asked you if you want to go out with me, would you say yes?” without looking at you. You did not expect him to say something like that, and thought about it for a little: while you wanted to forget Yunho, you couldn’t use one of his friends as a toy, even you had limits.

“L-Look Mingi I think you’re cute, but I’m not ready for something serious and-” He interrupted you, “I thought about something more casual, if you know what I mean.” You let out a ‘oh’ “I-It’s totally okay if you don’t want, but since we’re both single and as I imagine frustrated, I thought why not...?” He clarified, still not making eye contact with you.

“Why not try?” He shot his head up at you, eyes wide and a slight smile on his face, “Really?” You nodded, “Do you want to go out tomorrow or do you think it’s too quick?” He asked. You approached him, gluing your body on his and wrapping your arms around his neck, “Tomorrow seems good”

He snaked his arms around your waist, kissing you slowly as his hands roamed your ass, sometimes tugging at it. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, you hands also made their way to his clothed crotch, making him separate the kiss and grunt silently. “Go back to your friends, I’ll make up for you tomorrow” You whispered, making him roll his eyes as he let go of you to go back to Yunho’s room.

Your little relationship with Mingi - if you could it even call it that - was doing you wonders, for some time your feelings for Yunho faded, specially when Mingi was balls deep into your cunt, all you could do was scream and whimper his name, brain turned into mush. Still, from time to time you would think it was Yunho instead of Mingi fucking you dumb, but you tried your best to repress those desires.

But one day you slip up, you moaned Yunho’s name out loud, and to say you were embarrassed was an understatement.

Mingi halted all movements. “I-I’m so sorry” You muttered under your breath, only loud enough for him to hear, voice cracking as tears filled your eyes. Mingi removed himself from you, “Yn look at me”

You refused to, continuing to stare at the pillow as Mingi caressed your hips, waiting for your response, “Yn I’m not mad, we’re not together, I’m just confused,” He heard your sniffs, making him turn you around and hug you.

“Do you want to stop?” You nodded, making him hold you tighter until he calmed you down enough so that he could bring your and his clothes.

After explaining the whole situation to him, he said he wouldn’t mind to keep your little ‘friends-with-benefits’ thing going on if you still wanted it and assured you he didn’t care about the slip-up. At the end, you knew he understood the mess you were in and took pity in your situation.

«---- ღ ----»

You were awaken from a loud thud coming from the living room, heart racing as your mind thought about the most far-fetched and terrifying scenarios that it could. Slowly getting out of the bed and tiptoeing towards the bedroom door, you heard some mumbles coming from the other room.

You put your ear on the door to hear better. Knock knock knock. You jolted and gasped silently, backing away from the door, “Yn?” A female voice called from the other side, making you realize who it was. Opening the door you saw Jiyeon, smeared lipstick and smokey eyes adorning her delicate face as she reeked from alcohol.

“You scared the living shit out of me!” You whisper-yelled.

“Sorry, um... Yunho and I were at the club with some friends and he is pretty wasted, can I ask a favor?”

“Go on”

“So tomorrow I will be leaving town to meet my family, and I can’t be here looking after Yunho until he falls asleep, could you do that?”

“Jiyeon, I’m sorry but-”

“Please! I know it’s late and that I should have managed my time better, but it’s just this time and I trust you more than his friends to take good care of him”

Now, that was odd. Out of all the people in his life, you were the one she trusted the most? When you literally have feelings for him, have touched yourself while thinking of him and while she was the one on his bed. But Yunho is still your friend after all, surely nothing will go wrong while you care after him and tidy him, right?

“Okay, I'll try and do my best”

“Thank you so much, he's in the couch, probably half-awake” You both went to see him, he was laying on his back, hooded eyes staring through the ceiling, “I'll go now, thank you once again”.

With the door closing, it was just you and a drunk Yunho, who seemed to have a staring contest with the white ceiling.

“Yunho, are you feeling nauseous?”  He kept facing the ceiling as you called his name from afar, “Yunho?" You spoke louder this time, getting closer, the smell of cheap liquor invading your nostrils.

“Uh... Whaaat?” His slurred speech would have almost made you laugh if you weren't worried sick for him.

“Do you wanna puke?” He shook his head. “Okay, let's go to your room, can you get up?” He slowly shifted in his seat and stood up, losing his balance immediately, falling on the couch.

“Great” You massaged your temples, “How am I supposed to carry you to your room?” You sat on his side, putting one of his arms around your neck and holding it as your left arm wrapped around his torso.

With a little difficulty, you stood up. Despite managing to support him, his weight still made you bump on the hallway. Reaching his room felt like minutes.

You sat him on the bed, then unlacing and taking off his shoes as he watched you silently. Then helping him getting rid of the black leather jacket, leaving him in a white tee and black jeans.

“Look, you stink, I need to run you a shower” You explained, “This will be weird, because I need you to take off your pants”

He nodded, complying to your task slowly as you looked away to not make this any more embarrassing.

“You can turn” He said, making you turn around and trying to help him get up from the bed, avoiding looking down at his bare thighs and crotch area, cheeks burning up at the thought of it.

With a blink of an eye, Yunho's left hand was behind your head as his right propped him up, making you freeze on his hold. “Can I kiss you?” After what felt like an eternity, he asked, making you widen your eyes, no answer leaving your mouth.

You wondered if it was the booze or him talking, but his red cheeks, messy hair, somewhat slurred speech and daze gave you the answer.

“You're drunk Yunho, you don't know what you're talking about” You explained after a long staring contest, failing to cover the disappointment in your voice.

“I really want to kiss you” His grip on your neck softened a little, starting to caress it, “You look better with me, not with Mingi” Silence fell in the room, you looked away from him and bit your lip, sighing. Sure it wasn’t a secret you two were together, although it was just fun and games between you two, but it shouldn’t bother him that you’re with someone else.

“Yunho” You started with an hoarse voice, holding the tears threatening to leave your eyes, “You're speaking nonsense, let's go, I'll turn the water on for you”

The grip on your neck strengthened once again and before you knew it your lips crashed.

Different from Yunho, you kept your eyes open and wide, a million thoughts raced through your head, before finally giving into the kiss as Yunho urged you to become closer.

He bit your lower lip, taking the opportunity to insert his tongue in your mouth as you let out a silent whimper, deepening the kiss.

Getting drunk on his tongue, you threw yourself onto Yunho, both falling onto the bed without letting go of each other. Rolling on top of you, he started caressing your cheek with his thumb.

After the probably best moment of your life, you let go of him, finally allowing you both to breathe. As you stared into each other's eyes, Yunho's thumb and index fingers (hooked) into your chin, closing the small distance between you.

You don't know what it was, maybe it was the drunken state leaving your body, the guilt of taking advantage of Yunho or Jiyeon's words resurfacing your mind. But it probably was a mix of the three. You stopped Yunho, taking his hands off of you, making him frown.

“This is a mistake, you’ll regret it tomorrow, probably you won’t even remember this once you’re sober” You stood up “I’m turning on the water” You said as you walked towards the bathroom to do it, hiding the tears that threatened to leave your eyes, but for the sake of appearances and the possibility of him remembering these events tomorrow, you hid it.

You didn’t speak to each other as you gave him a bath, he sat on the shower as you shampooed his hair and rinsed it. You gave up on scrubbing his body in the middle of it due to your heartbroken state. After drying him quickly, you gave his some boxers and pajamas, waiting for him to go to bed to make sure he wouldn’t hit is head or fall down.

After putting him to bed, you crawled back to yours, crying yourself to sleep while thinking about what happened and how you fucked your friendship up, wishing all of this was just a dream.

The next few days were awkward, Yunho kept talking with you as if nothing had happened, probably because he didn’t remember, but you still couldn’t forget his kiss and his (slurred) words that night. He sometimes would ask if everything was alright, but you lied saying the last days have been tiring and you just needed to rest well.

«---- ღ ----»

You grabbed your keys, trying your best to make the least amount of silence possible since it was almost 1am. You had gone out with Mingi to a club, but before that, stopping at his house for some action.

The door opened, revealing your pitch dark apartment, just like you thought, Yunho was already asleep. You then shut it behind you and took off your heels to tiptoe towards your room. As you walked towards it, you saw the door from Yunho’s room wasn’t completely closed, a dim yellow light illuminating the hallway.

Since you didn’t hear a sound, you thought he had forgotten to turn off the light on his bedside, still trying to silently get into your room, slowly turning the door knob to open it.

“Yn...” Hearing your name coming in a low grunt from the other room made you shot your head up. You were pretty sure it was a moan coming from Yunho’s room, your cheeks flustered at the thought of him jerking off thinking of you.

Interest and curiosity took the best of you, making you silently spy Yunho through the door crack. He sat on the bed, no pants on, boxers still hanging on his feet as he slowly jerked himself off. Your mouth opened wide at the sight of his cock’s size. It was probably the biggest you have ever seen in real life.

After admiring his show for a few more moments, you realized you should leave before he catches you looking and make everything between you two even more awkward. As you made the way to your room, the wooden floor creaked, making you internally cursing yourself, hoping he didn’t notice it.

“Yn?” Yunho asked, opening his room’s door wide. Lucky for you, you were already at the front of your bedroom door.

“S-Sorry did I wake you up?” You gave him a slight smile, trying to be as convincing as possible.

“For someone who insists that kissing me was a mistake you sure were enjoying the view” Your face dropped, making you look like a deer in the headlights. Silence filled the whole apartment as Yunho waited for an answer.

“I-I’m sorry” Was all you said before looking away from him and heading to your room, but Yunho’s wasn’t accepting that so easily. He grabbed your arm and trapped you between the wall and himself.

“I can see it in your eyes, why are you lying to yourself?”

“Because you’re with someone else, that’s why. Just because she’s a poor excuse of a girlfriend that doesn’t make it right for you to cheat on her ”

“I don’t care about her”

“Liar!” Tears slowly streamed down your face “If you didn’t care you would’ve ended things a long time ago!”

“It’s complicated, and you know that! If you liked me so much you wouldn’t have started a relationship with Mingi either!” You took his hands off of you.

“We’re not together!” You tried to get away from him, only for Yunho to grab you once again and planting a kiss on your lips, making you relax on him.

He deepened the kiss, making you snake your arms behind his neck, tongue and teeth crashing together as lust and passion dominated you both. Still not letting go of each other, Yunho guided you to your room, closing the door behind him.

He let go of you, leaning a bit back to check you out “Fuck I can’t believe Mingi had all this to himself, you’re so fucking pretty” He attacked your neck with light kisses and bites, making you a whimpering mess as you got wetter.

“I love hearing your little whimpers, you’re so cute, Bunny” A shiver went down you spine “Do you like the nickname, Bunny?” He whispered in your ear, taunting you “These clothes look good on you, but I bet you look better without them” He sat in your bed as you stood in front of him.

You slowly took your clothes, Yunho’s eyes not leaving your body as he licked his lips. Only in your undergarments, you straddled his lap, his hands touching and grabbing every inch of your body. With a loud huff, he took off his t-shirt to reveal his chest and abs.

He pulled you to another kiss, this time a more passionate one, caressing your face as he unclasped your bra in one go, letting the straps fall on your arms. You pulled away from him to take it off, him grabbing and kissing them as light whimpers left your mouth.

He grabbed your hand, positioning it on his tent, “Fuck baby, I need to feel you right now”, you got on your knees, pulling his pants down to his feet, revealing his boxers already with a wet spot on his clothed tip. Touching him through his boxers made him throw his head back with a loud whimper, “Please for the love of God don’t tease me y/n”

You smirked, pulling his boxers down, revealing a leaking and angry tip. As you had already suspected, Yunho was big, you had no idea how it would fit you, but that was something to worry about later.

You started by stroking him and giving him kitty licks, his noises soon encouraged you to try and take him. “Oh fuck...” Yunho moaned and dropped himself on the bed as you sucked his tip, trying to suck more every time your head bobbed up and down.

Tears filled the corners of your eyes as his length hit the back of your throat, loving the stinging sensation it left behind. You felt a hand grabbing your hair lightly, making you look up, locking eyes with Yunho, his filled with lust, “You’re taking me so well bunny” his compliments only made you wetter and more eager to swallow more of his cock.

“Let me help you out b-bunny” He grabbed your hair in a ponytail to then force your throat down his shaft, tears streaming down your face as he wrecked your mouth. You moved your panties aside, making circles around your clit as he kept controlling your head movements.

He let out a deep chuckle, “Is my bunny horny just by sucking me off?” You let out a moan at his words, throat vibrating around his cock, making him moan as well. His movements faltered as his groans got louder and louder, soon him releasing in your mouth and his grip on your head.

You quickly moved back, coughing from the lack of air in your lungs, your throat stinging a but from the workout. Yunho grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. He kissed your tears away, loving how wrecked you looked when he had done barely anything to you.

“Are you okay?” You nodded at his answer “I’m sorry for being so harsh, if I ever do anything you don’t like please warn me” You laughed slightly at his concerns, “Use me however you want” You whispered to his ear, noticing how his lips curved in a menacing grin.

“Is that so? Lay on the bed for me then, love” Hearing Yunho calling you love made you dizzy, by this time you had forgotten he had another woman he could call ‘love’, not a single once of guilt tainting your heart and making you doubt this moment.

You laid on the bed, it was Yunho’s turn to get on his knees. He pulled you closer towards him, giving you kisses along your thighs as you begged him to stop teasing you. He dragged your panties along your legs, throwing it somewhere on the room.

“Holy fuck...” You moaned out loud when he licked your folds, burying his head on your cunt, eating you out like there’s no tomorrow. You tried your best to contain your moans, which only riled Yunho up even more.

“Y-Yunho- Fuck, calm down” You whined, feeling overstimulated from his mouth alone, without even coming once, feeling him smirk as the kept tongue-fucking you. He backed away from your dripping cunt, arousal dripping down his chin.

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to tease you”

“Fuck yes I did, but if you keep going on I’m not lasting long”

“Great that’s my intention” He pushed one finger with ease inside you, making you whimper slightly “More” He chuckled at your reaction, complying to your wishes and adding another one. He thrust his fingers in and out of you, eliciting moans from you. You loved how deep his fingers went inside your cunt, still, it wasn’t enough for you.

“Y-Yunho” You moaned out loud, incapable of forming a full sentence.

“Hmm?” He looked up to you, watching your fucked out face contort with please, “Does my bunny want more?” You nodded your head quickly, making him chuckle, “You’re such a whore for me” and how right he was, you would let him do anything to you in this moment,

He added one more, stretching your cunt out as he lowered his head to your cunt. You combination of his fingers inside you and his tongue flickering your bud turned you into a moaning mess. You quickly felt your high approaching, and Yunho knew that by the way your pussy tightened around his fingers.

“Cum for me bunny, I know you want to” His words were enough to drive you to your edge, making you cream around his fingers as he kept lapping your clit, riding out your orgasm.

He took of his fingers and put them in front of you, making you clean them up and taste yourself.

“Do you want me to grab a condom?”

“Forget that, just go raw” He widened his eyes, “A-Are you sure?” you nodded your head. He got up on the bed, positioning himself between your thighs and his length in your entrance.

“I’m going slow, tell me when it’s okay to move” He slowly inserted his head in you, making moan and wrap your legs around his waist. As he kept pushing himself inside you, your moans grew louder until he bottomed out.

“F-Fuck, you’re huge” You groaned, he stilled inside you as he caressed your face and thighs to relax you. “You can move” He started slowly, you bit your lips to suppress the moans from leaving your mouth, clawing at the sheets.

Yunho tested the waters by speeding up the pace, drawing more moans from you, which gave him the green light to fuck you dumb. He placed your legs on his shoulders and lowered down to meet your lips, giving a short peck.

“Fuck Yn, you’re driving me crazy” He moaned out loud, making you smile, to which he asked “Why are you smiling?” His pace never faltering, his tip brushing your g-spot every time.

“T-The name you’re moaning is mine” You managed to speak between moans, “My bunny is so dirty” He laughed, his thrusts getting sloppier and his moans getting louder.

“Come inside me, please” You locked gazes, he gave you a taunting smirk as he used one of his hands to draw circles around your clit. You felt like your mind was breaking apart from the amount of pleasure, soon feeling a knot on your stomach.

“Do you like being full of me? Fuck, baby I’m so close” He announced, before bursting inside you, your walls sucking him dry. You loved the feeling of being full to the brim by him. Still inside you, he kept drawing circles on your bud and sucking on your breasts. Soon, you came as well, moaning his name out loud.

He removed himself from you, feeling his cum drip down onto the sheets, making a mess, “I’m grabbing a towel, don’t move” He grabbed it quickly, you barely noticing his absence.

He cleaned you up, giving you kisses. Still, a question lingered on your mind.

“What about us Yunho?”

“I’m ending things with Jiyeon, I love you yn”

#ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez x reader smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

[novelizt]

PEERING EYES OVER WROUGHT-IRON FENCES ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ childhood friends (to estranged friends) to lovers. angst w/ a happy ending.

WC ➺ 12.2k

SYNOPSIS ➺ to uncover the mystery of iris griffith's murder, it's time to face the music, cross the fence, and talk to a friend you never expected to become a stranger to.

WARNINGS ➺ mentions of the lockwood family tragedies, strained family dynamics, discussions and descriptions of murder

DISCLAIMER ➺ fem! reader. lockwood & co. are aged up to about 18-years-old, I try to shoe-horn forensic science into psychical investigations (I am not a professional so... it's unrealistic, sorry.), and Lockwood calls reader cherry/cherry cheeks

NOTE ➺ I can't remember if Portland Row has wrought-iron fences. In case it doesn't, it does now — this is fan fiction. Also, this is the first time I've finished a story this lengthy and I feel really proud of myself. I hope you enjoy!

The first time Lockwood had laid eyes on you, you were a set of peering eyes over a wrought-iron fence. He could barely see over it, but he could remember how round and shiny your eyes were. All doll-like and unrealistic. Honestly, it scared him. You couldn't blame little Lockwood for scuttling back to his sister.

That same day, your parents had brought you over and formally introduced themselves. Between your parents's statuesque figures, stood you.

Contrary to your encyclopaedic eyes, your mannerisms were timid. You looked miniscule in your Sunday dress. You looked like a breeze could knock you over. Anthony couldn't help but feel bad for running from you earlier.

Following introductions, a terse dinner ensued. Your parents were doctors, the kind who would scamper about in hospitals in scrubs and white coats — people who believed in science. His were researchers who dabbled in spiritual devices of different cultures — people who preferred to find the emotional aspect in the supernatural. Suffice it to say, the conversation was very one-sided.

Even then, Anthony was determined to be your friend. He thought having pretentious parents, like yours, would spoil the fun in things like spinning tops or fencing or enjoying pie with ice cream after supper. (Your parents had insisted the sugar would make it difficult for you to sleep.)

Anthony had made up his mind before you even uttered a word to him.

The instant the adults had dismissed you to the living room with Anthony and Jessica, he had snuck you a pie with extra ice cream on top. He and Jessica had their backs to the door so in the unlikely event that your parents came in, they wouldn't see you breaking their rules.

You weren't much younger than Anthony back then, but with cherry smeared across your cheek and ice cream clinging to your lip, he thought you were as cute as a button. He wasn't aware that he had been smiling at you so widely.

He missed the knowing glint in Jessica's eyes.

Across the peaceful months you'd spent as friends, Anthony and Jessica would tell you about their parents' most recent findings and you'd tell them the most bizarre concepts you learned at the academy.

At night, Anthony would sit by the window in his attic room, flagging out written messages on a sketch pad. Across the way, you would poke your head out to read it.

lots of apples are falling these days. want some?

my parents won't let me

that's because an apple a day keeps the doctors away. i think they're scared

no way... papa says he cuts people open. how could he be scared of apples?

ew... and I dunno, cherry. do you want apples or not?

stop calling me that

apples?

sure...

come down

ARE YOU MENTAL??

He was, indeed, crazy. He had tiptoed all the way downstairs and grabbed his mother and father's favorite jackets on the way out.

In the bite of night and the glow of ghost-lamps, he looked up at your house to see your head poking out of of a different window, a crazed expression on your face. 'What are you doing?' you mouthed.

"Hurry!" He yelled back. He chuckled when you'd flinched and checked behind you. He held up the jackets and took a breath, watching in amazement as fog formed from it.

All while you tapped the window sill in thought. You took one more contemplative glance behind you, then shut the window.

You were vaulting over the fence in no time. He caught you, cushioning your fall with the jackets he'd taken and greeted you with an incandescent smile. Even in greenlight, your little heart skipped a beat.

"Here. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold. We'd both be in trouble if you did."

He threw his mother's coat over your head. It was so big, it enveloped you like a gown. You tried to slip your arms through the sleeves but you only got halfway before you wiggled the limp fabric in his face. He swatted you away but folded them up enough so your palms could come through.

His father's jacket was huge on him, too, but he had the kind of air that made him look natural in it.

In his efforts to help you, his own hands had turned red from the cold. You seized them and stuffed them in your pockets, since your—his mother's—jacket had the lined pockets.

After huddling for warmth, you two grew warm enough to walk further into the backyard and pick up handfuls of apples. You found that you could only fit three apples in each pocket, so you held more by tucking your shirt into your pants and shooting them into your shirt. Anthony had done the same. You didn't realize how ridiculous your actions were until you saw how puffed his figure looked with that many apples stuffed down his shirt.

You snorted so loud it hurt, slapping your hand over your mouth to kill any more laughs that could alert the sleeping adults.

He turned his head to you, like an owl. It made more apples fall from your shirt as your shoulders shook. He shushed you, frantically glancing at the house. "What's wrong with you?"

You shook your head, riding the wave of maturity before it crashed. Little laughs and apples spilled from you. "You look like a pufferfish!"

He looked down and examined himself then, indignantly, he pointed at you. "You're literally spewing apples, you're just as bad!"

Restraint crumbled. Your hand came away and your laughs filled the silent night air. Anthony's laughs began to dance with yours until the pair of you were reduced to shaking stumps surrounded by fallen apples.

"Don't look at me! You're making me laugh!"

"Your face is funnier!"

"Stop it!"

"Cherry— You're only making me laugh more!"

It was no surprise that his parents had woken up and scolded you two accordingly. While they tutted at you, you two sat under the same blanket. Elbowing each other when they began to question who'd initated it.

You weren't a snitch. You did not tell, and they never found out who caused the trouble.

Jessica later rewarded you both with a cookie under their noses. You cracked your cookie in half to share with her. Anthony did the same to his, giving his other half to you.

—

Those memories were a far cry from the present. On some days, they felt like dreams. Now, all you are to him is a pair of peering eyes over wrought-iron fences.

Lockwood would catch glimpses of you on the way back from a case. He would nod, you would nod. Then both of you would continue on with your lives like the era of cherry pies and fallen apples had never happened.

Some days, he would turn the newspapers, checking to see if student doctor you had earned any new accolades in your scholastic journey to saving lives, but he never had it in him to say hello to you.

That morning's issue had you on the front page. You with your resplendent eyes and smile finally sporting a white coat at the ripe of eighteen, the first one of your age to earn 'Doctor' as a suffix to your name. Apparently, you'd applied your studies on forensic science to aid psychical investigations involving mummified body parts.

Seems you were doing well.

He placed the paper face down on the thinking cloth, ignoring Lucy's questioning gaze as he took a sip of tea.

"What's happened now?" Lucy asked, stretching her neck to see what made him so upset. She settled back into her seat after she set her eyes on the crossword puzzle, unable to glimpse the front page. "Kipps's crew?" she guessed.

"No, he would have his brow furrowed like this–" George turned to show his brows knitted together so hard they looked like they were drawn on with marker. "–if it was Kipps. It's got to be something else."

"Oh, right," Lucy said with bite, smacking her head like that made sense. "How could I forget?"

George shrugged, grinning like he had a secret on the tip of his tongue. "I don't know, Luce. Maybe it's the letters you've been receiving from one; Norrie White."

Lucy's chair scraped as she stood, gaping at George with anger tightening her mouth. "You went through my mail!"

"She wrote her name in marker. Red. Marker. I would have to be blind to miss it."

Lockwood kicked back and watched the drama ensue, a smile easing itself back on his face. Lucy and George's petty squabble was always a shot of espresso on a rather depressing morning. They made an excellent stopper to all his wonderings about the past.

"That was none of your business!" Lucy shrieked. In her fury, her hands itched to do something... to throw something.

Lockwood realized too late. He vaulted forward to pry the newspaper from her fingers, but Lucy's rage made her a savage. She chucked the newspaper at George with the velocity of a racing car.

The headlines collided with George's face with a resounding thud.

His glasses fell and landed with a unceremonious noise. Thankfully, unscathed from the impact.

The same could not be said for his nose.

George's face pulsed like he had been stung by the world's largest be. He splayed his hand over his nose to check for bleeding and groaned.

"That hurt..."

"Of course it did. I intended it to," Lucy huffed. She scooped up George's glasses and the paper. "That ought to teach you about looking at my correspondence."

"Didn't have to thump me that hard though," George grumbled, snatching his glasses back.

He looked like a dartboard bullseye wearing glasses. Lockwood couldn't focus on it though. His eyes were honed in on the newspaper Lucy was currently unraveling.

He bit his cheek and decided to finish his tea in one gulp. "Well," Lockwood started, fixing his collar as he stood. "I'd better see what we're taking on tonight. I'll be—"

"Hey, this is that girl next door." Lucy pushed her face closer to the paper to reassure herself that she wasn't seeing wrong. She'd seen that blouse and trouser combo on you a few days ago. "Yeah! That's her!"

George showed a rare kind of expression. A raised brow aimed at Lockwood. "She's a doctor now. How could that be upsetting?"

"Don't tell me you have a rivalry with her because she poked you in the bum when you were little," Lucy joked.

Lockwood's face flushed. He looked at the kitchen door, contemplating escape, then back to his friends. He leaned on the doorframe, attempting to look lax but coming off as stiff as a board. "Who said I was upset?"

"You were quiet over tea," George said.

"What of it?" Lockwood pushed.

George gave him an are you kidding me kind of look. "You never shut up when you can help it."

"And you did this." Lucy copied his pondering face, and Lockwood grimaced—reminding himself to school his expressions better.

"Please. For all things good, never do that again, and I am not upset at her—"

"Defensive now? You so are," George chuckled.

Lockwood's jaw ticked. "I am not—"

Saved by the bell. All three heads turned to the door with interest. It was still early in the day, so a new client was unexpected.

"I'll get it," Lockwood said. He left a prattling Lucy and George in the winds of his coat.

The doorbell rang again before he got to it. "Keep your shirt on—"

George and Lucy idled at the foot of the stairs as the door swung open. George let out a gasp, Lucy elbowed him to keep quiet.

Speak of the devil and he will appear. Though, you were more seraphic in that white dress, innocently festooned with embroidered cherries. Your smile was as disarming as ever. It was even brighter than the light haloing your hair.

"Hello."

Lucy tripped over air at the sweetness of your voice, now understanding how the word 'mellifluous' came to be.

Lockwood was indifferent.

Just staring at the back of his head, Lucy knew he was sporting an expression reserved just for Kipps and his crew. It made her want to kick his shin and tell him to get himself together.

"Hi," Lockwood finally greeted, tone bleak. "What are you doing here?"

"Lockwood," George finally intervened. Seems he was taken by how you carried yourself, too.

Both your and Lockwood's heads turned to him.

"Oh, you must be George Karim." Your smile widened, outshining the light above the door. "And Lucy Carlyle. Pleasure to finally meet you."

Lucy and George rarely agreed on things, but they spoke like they were on the same wavelength then. "Pleasure is ours."

A little laugh escaped you, just as graceful as the swish of your skirt. You introduced yourself, discounting your new title. "My parents asked me to invite friends to my celebratory dinner tonight but I don't have people I'd really consider friends." Your honeyed eyes drifted back to Lockwood, trying not to wilt under his blasé gaze. "I was thinking you three could drop by. No need to bring anything but yourselves. We have pie and ice cream for dessert."

Hope was alight in your eyes. The insider statement flew over George and Lucy's heads, and apparently, Lockwood's too. Your expression dampened as it struck you.

"That sounds nice," George said pleasantly.

Lucy nodded in agreement. "And it's not every day we get invited to a free meal."

"With pie." George was already dreaming about it.

Lockwood let out a breath. "Sorry. We have a case tonight."

"No, that's for Friday night," George interrupted. "Isn't that right, Lucy?"

"That's right," Lucy doubled down.

Both of Lockwood & Co.'s best simply blinked and grinned at Lockwood's taut form.

"Great," you quipped. Your eyes lingered on Lockwood but moved to George and Lucy when he showed no interest in being civil. "I'll see you tonight, then. Have a nice day!"

"You too!"

Lockwood gave you a sufficient nod and lipped smile as he closed the door. The moment you were out of sight, the room turned sepia.

Silence for a moment, then George.

"There is definitely something going on here."

—

Despite Lucy and George's joint efforts to pry answers from him, Lockwood did not bend. When the light began to die outside, they retired to their own rooms to prepare. Finally leaving him in silence.

Lockwood chose to wear his usual get-up. The only difference was his waistcoat. It sported a thin, stylish red stripe down it's right side; George had worn an unstained shirt for once, so he did put a bit more effort into his looks that evening; and Lucy wore her best skirt and sweater to put her best foot forward.

"Now," Lockwood said as they all spiraled down the steps. "You have to remember a few things about our neighbors."

"And that would be?" George rolled his eyes.

"They're doctors," Lockwood answered like it was a sin.

"All of them?" Lucy asked with interest.

"Yes, the entire family," Lockwood confirmed. "You have to remember that when they start getting weird about our work."

"Why?" Lucy flicked a crumb left on George's shoulder once they reached the last step. "We get help from hospitals when we need to examine post-mortem documents. It's not like our professions are worlds apart."

"You mean I get help," George corrected firmly. "Not like either of you do the grisly work when it comes to research."

"Well, you're the best at it," Lucy said placatingly.

"'Course I am," George nipped.

Lockwood shushed them. "Regardless of what they say, do not loose your cool. They think getting you worked up means they win.

"They can't be that bad. Your girl was nice enough," Lucy said.

Lockwood's brows furrowed then unfurrowed. "She's not my girl," he said, opening the door with zeal.

"Sure," Lucy grinned as she slipped past.

—

34 Portland Row looked the same as 35 from the outside. The interior decor made it clear that the home was made up of doctors. Successful ones, by the looks of it.

You greeted them at the door with the same radiatant smile from the papers. Your dress was marvelous but Lucy and George could not help but look over your shoulder, into the opulence of 34 Portland Row.

Like always, Lockwood greeted you with a nod and addressed you by name. It wasn't much but you accepted it with cheeks strained from practicing your smile.

As you lead them to the dining room, their eyes wandered at their own volition. Lockwood couldn't help but do the same.

The crystal chandelier in the living room was as decadent as ever; the doorknobs had been changed to be made of glass and silver; the bookshelves were packed with newer books—likely yours; the wall next to the stairs still held your height measurements from years ago. He caught your eye as he did so, trying not to flinch at the waves of melancholy that crashed over him. He chose to look at the back of your head as the light of the dining room enveloped them.

Like every room in this house, a chandelier sat in the middle. Everything was gleaming. Not a speck was out of place, except maybe him. Perfect, just like the family that lived here.

The table was already set with steaming meals of steak, veggies, and mashed potatoes. There was a pitcher of juice in the middle but Lockwood noticed that he, Lucy, and George's glasses were already filled with water. Your mother had just finished filling the last one when she offered her most deceitful smile.

"Anthony Lockwood and friends..." your mother greeted. Her tone was eloquent but the drawl in it sent an unwelcomed pang of anxiety through Lockwood, he tensed then forced himself to relax. "Haven't seen you around lately, Tony."

"Running a business does eat time, unfortunately." He spared her a terse smile and sat at the chair you directed him to — just across from you. Lucy sat beside you, and George had the misfortune of sitting next to your father. Lockwood cleared his throat to break the silence. "You haven't aged a day, Mrs.—"

"Doctor, actually. We've had this conversation before," she chortled with a furled smile you would only expect from the devil's mistresses.

Lucy and George found sudden interest in their food. Your shoulders sunk, but like times before, you didn't say anything. Lockwood tried not to look surprised.

"Right... Doctor. My apologies." He straightened himself in his seat. "You two look swell. How has the winter been treating you?"

"Oh, it's absolutely tiring," your father said. He had the kind of tone that suggested that he was always pouting. At least he wasn't spitting venom while he was talking about himself. "Patients coming in but rarely being able to make it out. Terrible thing, really."

"Sorrows to those who have passed because of the upstart," your mother chipped in. "Our little darling saved some lives in lieu of her recent graduation, and she's only been a doctor for a few days!"

Your mother smiled at you. You refused to look up from your dinner. "All I did was administer CPR. The hospital was understaffed that day. I work in a different department, mama."

Her smile faded before her eyes snapped to Lockwood, her grin sharpening.

"Can you imagine that? Not even a day as a doctor and she's already on the papers. Real talent gets recognized straight away, everyone knows."

Your father did not finish chewing his steak before he joined in. "Kids these days run around wasting their time on things other than their academics. What do they expect to do after their talents fade, huh? Our girl has no worries in that department."

George pushed his plate away after a blob of spit landed on his potatoes. He thought it was best to put down his utensils as well. His grip was turning his knuckles white. Lucy had resorted to pushing her asparagus to calm the anger beginning to stoke in her mind. They were beginning to see why Lockwood did not want to come. The aforementioned remained with a practiced smile on his face.

Your eyes conveyed your apologies yet Lockwood refused to look at you. You were as meek as the girl Lockwood first saw over the fence. Your voice was weaker when you used it in this house. "Mama, papa. Those kids risk their lives to make living easier for everyone. Bravery like that can't be learned from textbooks."

"No, but keeping your nose out of that business altogether will keep you alive." Your mother's expression changed, a beguiling woman turning into medusa before their very eyes.

You sunk under the weight of her stare. You might as well have turned to stone.

"Knowledge keeps you alive," your father added. "Perusing supernatural business will only end with dead kids or orphans who have to resort to psychical work to get by. Some of them work up the nerve to call it a real profession."

A resounding ring resounded from Lockwood's side of the table. He had dropped his knife. His smile had gone. His lips twitched, like he wasn't sure what to do or say. Ultimately saying nothing.

Your eyes glossed over, anger and sadness swirling together in your belly. You were ready to let loose, to set your parents straight. Yet, one look at your father's face was enough to have you curling in on yourself.

The temperature dropped like the conversation had. No one said a thing when smoke began to choke the room.

"Well," your mother cheered. "Seems like the pie is ruined. I'm afraid we'll have to end supper here."

—

Lucy rushed the door open, just itching to unload the tangle of colorful words she'd thought up in that stuffy house of yours.

"They were horrendous," George said, throwing his flannel aside. "I thought that junior doctor was nice but now I know she's Medusa's spawn."

"She is. And have you seen her dad?" Lucy doubled down. She considered going downstairs to release her pent-up emotions but thought better of it. "Terrible, the lot of them."

Lockwood had thought the same cruel thoughts but hearing it from them made him defensive. You weren't bad. You were just a bystander. Your lack of responses hurt as bad as your parents's passive-aggressive jabs, but you weren't even close to being half the evil your parents were. He felt his stomach churning as they began to drag your name through the dirt.

"We are never going back there," George declared. "You were right, Lockwood."

"I need 24 hours of sleep to recover from it. I've never felt so murderous before." That was Lucy's way of saying goodnight. She started for the steps right after.

"I think we should go back. So you can finish the job," George said, following Lucy up the stairs.

Lockwood stumbled ahead, throwing his coat on the newel and collapsing at the foot of the steps. From where he lazed, he continued to hear Lucy and George bicker.

"Maybe you could call up that Norrie White to help you get away with murder," George said encouragingly.

"Don't even start on that, George," Lucy warned.

Her door closed.

"Fine," George said despondenty. "It was just a suggestion, geez."

His door closed, too.

Lockwood let out a breath. It felt like his soul had left his body for a moment of reprieve. He didn't have even five minutes of silence before he heard urgent taps reverberating through his ears. He sat up, alarmed, trying to assess where the noise could have come from.

After a quick sweep, he swung the kitchen door open and discovered you on the other side of the garden door, knuckles raping against the glass with a pained look on your face.

He contemplated leaving you out in the cold but decided that he wasn't that kind of person. He opened the door and wasn't all that surprised that your habit of forgetting a jacket stayed true. You were shivering.

"Anthony—"

"Give me a moment," he interrupted. He turned, walked back to the steps to retrieve his coat, then returned to drape it over your shoulders. "Come in. Sit. You never remember to bring a coat at night, stubborn girl."

You smile despite the frost on your face. Your face turns pink as the warmth of 35 Portland Row thaws you. He sits you on his usual seat and takes George's cushioned seat instead.

"Old habits die hard," you chuckle, holding his coat tighter. If you bent your head enough, you would get a whiff of him on it. You could have tried to do it inconspicuously but he was sitting right there, he would know. "I'm sorry... for everything. I thought they wouldn't– I really should have known they would say things like that. I apologize for them. I really do feel bad. If Mr. Karim and Ms. Carlyle are still up, I'd like to tell them as well."

"They've retired for the night," he reports. He redacts the part that they were discussing the demise of your family. "but thank you for coming to say that."

"And I'm sorry I didn't say anything," you add.

Lockwood doesn't say anything to that. In his mind, you would have stopped them if you were really sorry. "Why did you come here? And please don't say you're inviting us to another dinner."

"Goodness, no." You snort. "I... have a case. I don't know who else to surrender the evidence to."

His brows jump. "You're asking for psychical service? From me? Us, I mean."

You nod. "I hear that Ms. Carlyle is particularly gifted. What I think we're facing is something special. Something no regular agent can feel out."

"Why hasn't Fittes or Rotwell been put up to this if it's that important?"

"Because it's a personal study of mine." You drop a manila folder on the thinking cloth. Lockwood didn't even notice you were holding it earlier. "It's a closed case. An unsolved one. The autopsy is gruesome and justice was never brought to the victim. I searched her property myself and found the source. I tried to communicate with her but I can't do it."

"And you think Lucy is the Listener for the job?"

"Yes. I don't just want to get rid of a ghost, Anthony, I want to lay her to rest. To give her peace."

He leans back in his chair, drinking in the information while he raked a hand through his hair. "You investigated the area of the haunting alone?"

"In daylight," you said in your defense. "My sense of touch is useful enough for me to know if something is a source. Problem is, I can't get any psychical resonance to find out who had killed her."

"Amazing..." he breathed. He didn't know you had that level of sensitivity. Still, he had to think of this as an official case. He righted his posture immediately. "I'll ask George and Lucy in the morning. Can you come by at nine?"

"Yeah. My parents are at work before then. No worries about them."

"Good."

You nod, not knowing what else to do. "Good."

You stared at each other. Possibly taking in how much time had changed you; The scars he'd earned through the years, the callouses on your hands from studying, blemishes, changed mannerisms—and then the unspoken reminder that you had drifted apart after the Lockwood family turned from four to one. You were completely different people to the children who used to laugh through these halls.

"I better get going," you said. You couldn't handle Lockwood and his expressive eyes. You don't know if he was doing it consciously, but it was like you could see his sadness bleeding into the world just by glancing at them.

He nodded like a puppet on a string, pulling himself up and leading you to the garden door once more.

"Goodnight," you said, mustering a friendly smile that was, thankfully, returned.

"Night... Cherry," he replied.

You smiled for a moment more before you snuck back home. Neither of you remembered that you had his coat until morning.

—

You were knocking at 35 Portland Row at 8:55. You stood stiffly, not knowing how to conduct yourself after last night's catastrophe. Lockwood's coat was folded over your arm when George answered the door.

Opposite of the day before, his face was flat. If you turned around and left, you'd be doing him a favor. Unfortunately for him, you were there with intention.

"I need the help of Lockwood & Co."

George opened his mouth, probably thinking of some creative way to say 'shove off'. Lockwood's voice from the kitchen bellowed over his train of thought. "It that her? Let her in, Georgie."

George was mumbling something but he stepped aside and didn't stab you with a nearby rapier. You believed that meant there was a chance to redeem yourself.

You were lead to the receiving room where you were shortly joined by Lockwood and an either groggy or bloodthirsty Lucy. George had retired to the kitchen to bring in biscuits. You hadn't earned the respect to have cake in the vicinity.

Lockwood lead the conversation, eyes trained on you. It made you conscious enough to shuffle and pick at the frayed seams of his coat.

"You only gave us a few details about this case. Evidently it was murder but it was closed and unsolved for two decades."

"I have the rest here," you said, revealing another manila folder. This one was thicker, packed with all you knew about it. It was the real deal. As you passed it across the table, the three of them ogled at the vivid red 'confidential' stamp slanted across the front. "Her name was Iris Griffiths. She was a forensic scientist who cracked several unsolved cases in her time. She had sensitive hearing, from what her colleagues said. She wasn't working on any new cases before her housemate reported her dead on a random night."

"Was it during winter? She could have been ghost-touched." Lucy suggested with a clipped tone. She just wanted to close the case and never see you again.

You shook your head, reaching across and guiding Lockwood's hand to another page in the folder. "Her autopsy shows several lacerations and bruises but no remnants of ghost touch. Her body was already decomposing when she was found."

"And her flatmate? They could be a suspect." George pitched.

You shook your head again. "Celia Rodney was out of town with her fiancé. Several colleagues were interviewed and confirmed it."

Lockwood looked up. "Then we have to assume that it's someone from Griffith's personal life. Did she have a lover?"

"This is like the Annie Ward case all over again," Lucy groaned.

You continued nonetheless. "She did have a lover, actually. Howard Gasley was her co-worker and boyfriend. They had a good relationship, according to the interviews, so I don't suspect any foul play between them."

George leaned against the right side of his chair. There was a creak from the old thing but he ignored it. "What if their relationship was rocky behind the scenes?"

You looked down at the evidence file and sighed. "I guess we will find out when Ms. Carlyle's able to speak with her. All our suspects have solid alibis. To obtain justice for Iris Griffith, we'll have to be her witnesses."

George turns stiff. "We? Lockwood."

Lucy does the same. "You're asking me to communicate with a ghost?"

Lockwood tries to settle them down with a relaxed smile. "It's high time I stop scolding you for being good at what you do, Luce. Our client is explicitly asking you to exploit your talent and find us a killer. The client is always right. Isn't that right, George?"

George grumbles a reply you don't hear, and Lucy nods limply, like she can't comprehend the fact that Lockwood was being so lax about this. What happened to the dangers of communicating with ghosts?

Regardless, they realize that arguing with him was going to be a losing battle. He has that look in his eye—one akin to an adrenaline junkie who's about about to jump from a cliff, and his eyes are set on you.

Lucy and George watched as you returned his coat before they shot each other looks.

What happened to hating you and your white-coat family? Lockwood marched to the beat of his own drum, apparently.

They had their kits ready before dark and met you on the street you'd told them about. Lockwood saw your peering eyes over the run-down house's picket fence and quickened his pace.

"Lovely place," Lucy drawled, eyeing the chipping paint with faint curiosity. Two decades could do so much to a nice house.

"Very lively," George seconded with bite, side-stepping the corpse of a rat.

"I have the source inside, under a chain net," you inform them. You push open the door, wincing as the hinges break and send the wood slamming to the floor. "I hope the house holds long enough to finish this investigation."

"Finally," cheered Lucy. "something we can agree on."

Lockwood was contemplating over how to behave himself. One second, he was keeping pace with you, then walking ahead the next, then falling behind you. He cycled between all three, ignoring George's rolling eyes and Lucy's sighs until all four of you reach the second-floor's lavatory. Luckily, no one had fallen through the floor.

"Do tell me we're not dealing with supernatural turd," George begged.

Lucy wrinkled her nose. "I'll be the one doing the Listening so you can take your complaints outside, George."

"This might be worse," you answer them when you pull off the chain net from an odd looking thing. It looked like a starfish wrapped in ripped and yellowed tissue paper. Lucy gagged when she took a second look.

"Mummified hand," Lockwood said aloud, trying to keep a placid smile on his face. "I always tell you to never mess with mummified body parts but we'll have to make an exception."

"Mummified parts bridge the forensic and psychical field, unfortunately." You cover the source back up as a mercy to Lucy. "They couldn't find her hand before they autopsied her body. Found this under a plank in her bedroom."

"Handy," George said dryly.

Lucy glared at him. "Not the time."

"I'm not sorry," he replied.

"You could have mentioned this sooner," Lockwood interjected, turning his head to you.

You gave a smile in response. "I think it's just another piece of evidence that proves someone had been very angry with her."

"Did the academy teach you to smile so morbidly?" George questioned.

"No, that's just her face." Lockwood said gravely.

George spared you a look that resembled concern. "Pity."

You dropped your smile and walked passed a chuckling Lockwood.

—

Lucy couldn't hear a thing while there was light out. Even with the chain net off, all she could hear was George's heavy breathing.

Lockwood had everyone sat in the disparaging kitchen to have tea and some biscuits before night fell. All the courtresy of Lockwood & Co., of course. Papers spread across the table, rehashing the details in hopes that it would help Lucy discern which questions to prioritize once she made contact with Griffith.

George squinted his eyes at the court transcripts. "There's an awful lot of witnesses."

"It was a big case. Griffith did wonders to connect the world of science and the psychic." You dipped a biscuit into your overly sweetened tea; it was not so coincidentally your favorite brand, and took a bite. "She inspired me to study. It's been a dream of mine to solve her case."

George nodded with the most plastic smile on his face. "Wonderful. We're fulfilling childhood wishes while Lucy experiences rediscovered trauma."

You sighed and sunk into the rotting seat. There was no salvaging an acquaintanceship with George at this rate. You lulled your head to look at Lockwood. He spared you a smile but looked away just as quick.

"Don't interrupt me, that's all I ask," Lucy said as the clock struck six.

Papers were put away, circles were drawn, several more candles were lit, and Lucy hunkered down in the lavatory. The door was closed to give her room to work, leaving you to stand between Lockwood and George. You hobbled from heel to heel as you eyed their rapiers and their weary wandering.

The silence reminded you too much of home. Words poured out of you to chase away your parents's images in your mind. "How strong are Ms. Carlyle's talents? I've only heard heresay about her abilities."

"None of your business—"

"She's the best Listener in the field," Lockwood answered. Even in the dim light, you could see his smile pull higher. It made your heart do funny things while your stomach dropped. "I ought to think she'd be on parr with Marissa Fittes, given enough time. Maybe even better."

George nodded in agreement, turning his head as the ghost-lamps outside flickered to life. The green hue bled into the room, dimming the atmosphere even more.

You leaned against the wall as a chill crept out from under the lavatory door. "I have no doubt that we'll be able to get our answer then."

"Oh! Ow!" George exclaimed.

You didn't have a rapier or any form of weapon but you turned to him like you could help, just to find he was simply hugging himself.

"Got really cold all of a sudden. Felt like something passed through me," he said. He looked down at his thermometer. "Temp's dropped significantly. This visitor is a force."

"That's why she got the best of the best to do it," Lockwood boasted, winking your way and changing his stance as a spectral glow began to flicker under the door.

"Do we have a guess on what we could be facing?" you asked, backing away.

Lockwood didn't miss the tremoring in your hands. "No, but where where is a lack of knowledge, there is faith. We'll make it out this alive."

"Oh," you laughed unhumorously. "how reassuring."

"He's good at that," George added flatly.

Lockwood held out an arm, guiding you to stand between him and George. Their backs turned to you, their rapiers raised and at the ready.

"Here," Lockwood didn't look away from the dark as he unclasped a salt-bomb and a flask of lavender water. He held them out and you took them with shaking hands.

Malaise stalked in on you three, making the hairs on your arm stand. You gripped the salt-bomb and lavender water for dear life. Pressure squeezed down on your chest and your heart raced for a danger unseen.

"This much activity before ten? Griffith must have had qualms about dying." George said.

Lockwood chuckled, nodding along. "Wonder how nobody reported this much activity if the source was hidden all this time."

"Nobody wanted to visit this place when the killer was still at large," you answered, struggling to keep your tone even. "Some kids started some rumors during the court proceedings. They said someone just wanted the house badly enough to kill for it."

"That would be unfortunate," George said. "Imagine all that commotion over a killer who simply wanted real estate."

You tried to stiffle a laugh but failed. "It does sound ridiculous."

Lockwood chanced a glance at you, catching your faulty smile before a scream shook the Earth.

"Lucy?"

"Lucy!"

"Ms. Carlyle?"

She came bursting out of the lavatory, two fingers pinching the mummified hand, and looking quite disgruntled before she stood in the boy's protective circle.

"We might need Little Miss Doctor to stand in the iron circle," Lucy said, fumbling for her rapier and holding the source a ways from her body. Frost was gripping at her gloves.

The plan was scraped with one glance to the circle. It had been thrashed by Griffith from the time Lucy came tumbling out of the lavatory.

"Type two," all three of them agreed.

"What happened?" asked George. His eyes darted down the hallway with more apprehension than before.

"She got angrier and angrier the more names I mentioned," she answered. "I felt like she was about to drown me."

You took the mummified hand from her grasp. The sigh she let out was laughable. "Did she say who killed her?"

Lucy shook her head as she readied herself. Miasma was building. Fear gripped you like nothing you'd experienced before. When you touched the hand, that feeling multiplied. You heard murmurs but nothing substantial.

Shell...

Kill me...

Secret...

You couldn't stitch those words together to come to any conclusion. You were crossing your fingers that Lucy could. The possibilities kept you up at night. If you weren't thinking about your estranged friendship with Lockwood, you were thinking of getting justice for this woman you didn't even know. The cold pinching your skin from the source was a reminder that it wasn't over.

Like a light in the dark, Lucy looked at you and said, "She kept nodding her head whenever I asked if some person killed her; She said yes to Rodney. She said yes to Gasley—"

"So even she doesn't know who killed her?" George laughed emptily. "Brilliant."

"We might have to investigate more on our own to find more details." Lockwood nudged your side. You thought it was to shield you from the cold but that would be too presumptuous. He had bumped into you to swipe away the apparition of Iris Griffith.

She came and went like a zap of electricity. Frantic and unpredictable. Every time you caught sight of her mauled face, your heart picked up. How these three hadn't double over from heart failure was a mystery. Your knees gave up when she'd appeared beside you.

Your eyes watched her in slow motion. The rippling gashes in her plasma, her sneering face, her slashed dress... She was a hairsbreadth away from you before your instincts kicked in.

Your blood fell to your feet but your hand reached into your pocket in a panic, saving yourself as you pulled out a silver button. You threw it at her face and, fortunately, it was enough to disperse her ghost.

Lockwood let out a loud breath of relief but jumped back into the rhythm when her apparition reappeared. "Was that my mother's button? Nevermind. Time to make our exit! Luce, where's the chain net?"

She clicked her tongue. "Dropped it. Her manifestation appeared right in front of me."

"Go get it then!" George rushed, swiping at the air and setting off the first salt-bomb of the night.

"I would if I could," Lucy replied with a bite in her tone. She grimaced at the hand in your vice. "It's in the toilet."

"Pick it up! You've held worse." George backed into Lucy. They switched places.

"It's best if you don't," you advised. "This place has been deserted for years. Who knows what kind of bacteria's been growing in the bowl."

"Oh, you have to know everything, don't you?" George hissed.

Lucy didn't snap at you this time. "Listen to the doctor, George! Did we bring any more chain nets?"

Lockwood reached for your shirt, tugging you towards him as Griffith bit the air where your head would have been. He held you between his arms as blood rushed to your ears and cheeks. Lockwood's breath tickled your ear. The warmth of your face was a juxtaposition to the cold encasing your hands. "My bag! It's a bit away. We'll have to split up."

"Try not to die," George said with false sweetness. He and Lucy ran the opposite way you and Lockwood had.

Griffith chased them. The farther she got, the more you remembered how to breath.

"Calm down, cherry cheeks, ghosts can feed off of your fear," he tried to pacify you. The rasp of his voice evened your heart rate enough for you to get your brain turning again.

"Right. You're right..." You looked ahead, through the darkness and could barely make out the lumps on the ground. "Chain, we have to get the chain net."

"I've got you," he assured.

Even if your pivotal functions had returned to normal, your legs hadn't gotten the memo. Getting up made your knees buckle and legs feel like cooked pasta. As if the cold eating your fingers weren't bad enough.

Lockwood caught you around the waist, holding your weight while he held his rapier at the ready. "Hold on to the source and remember the salt-bomb."

You nodded firmly, clutching both to your chest as you two made a joint effort to get to the bags.

You were almost there, just passed the iron circle that Griffith had broken through, when she appeared above you like an unwanted mistletoe.

You screamed, Lockwood said something to console you, you threw the salt-bomb without taking off the clip, and Lockwood quickly sliced off the top to set it off. Salt sprayed over you two. His body folded over yours as it showered down.

Griffith's yells faded for a moment, a moment long enough for you to slide forward and grab the chain net that clung onto the side pocket of Lockwood's kit. Your hand wrapped around it, Iris's spectral glow kissed your skin, you felt the chill of it — she was colder than her source.

Suddenly, Lockwood had tugged you back towards him. His pull was strong enough to knock you onto your side. It would bruise but at least you weren't ghost-touched.

You wrapped the mummified hand in the net and sighed as the glow faded away and the screaming ceased. The frostbite on your fingers were worth the pain. You were alive.

Silence and heavy breathing ensued.

You rolled the rest of the way on your back, heaving for breath you won't get back. Not while Lockwood remained hovering over you.

The candles had been blown out in the earlier attack. The only light came from the ghost-lamps that sifted through the broken windows. Everything was in that ugly shade of bottle green... but that didn't make him any less magnificent.

Sweat collected on his brow, his mouth was agape—chasing for breath, and his lips were curled in that kind of smirk you could only dream about. Holding your breath did little for your racing heart.

"You okay, cherry cheeks?" His lips moved like their one purpose was to enrapture you.

You nodded dumbly, unable to find your words.

—

Portland Row was cloaked by the night when you four made your escape.

The three of them headed for the 35th while you bound up the steps to your parents' place. George and Lucy gained enough respect for you to wish you a good night before heading in, successfully tuckered out. Lockwood remained, staring at you with his hands in his trouser pockets.

He raised his brows at you then motioned to your front door. "Head on in. It would weigh on my conscience if I don't see you home safe. Your parents would have my head."

"You..." you paused at the fog before you. It was colder out than you thought. "You called me cherry cheeks earlier."

His stance turned tense. He rocked on his heels before he mustered a smile. "Old habits die hard... Sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

"It's okay," you reassured, returning the smile. "I missed it."

"You don't mind then?"

You shook your head. "Never did."

His smile broadened, teasing a glimpse of his pearly whites before he looked at his shoes to hide it. "See you tomorrow then, cherry."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him. These days, both of you were tall enough to see each other clearly over the wrought-iron fencing. You missed the days you had to tiptoe to show him a smile.

You had no problems shooting him a smile from over the fence. You had no problems coming home to your perfectionist parents. You had no problems imagining your world without Lockwood in it... but you missed him.

Now that the events kept replaying in your head, all you could think while you looked at him was I miss you, I'm sorry. I miss you, I'm sorry. I miss you, I'm sorry.

Lockwood had the talent of knowing when you wanted to say something but couldn't bring yourself to. He forgot how when you had grown apart. Now, in the quiet of the night and the privacy of the stars, it came back to him like the memories he tamped down by closing his window.

"What's wrong?" He asked, setting his hands on the freezing iron fence.

You feel the knot in your throat and the tears in your eyes. It hurts to hold back. Your lungs are lined with spikes as you take a breath. It feels like you're cracking your ribs open as you cave and admit to him, "I don't want to go home to them."

It may have been a trick of the light, but you swear there were tears in his eyes, too. His smile had changed. It was the same one you were accustomed to—the one he used to welcome you into his parents's house all those years ago. Like no time had passed at all, he beckons you. "Come on in then. 35 Portland Row is always open for you. It's your home, too."

—

One night's sleep on 35 Portland Row's most uncomfortable couch was worlds better than the comfy bed in your own cold home. You stretch like a cat to work out all the kinks in your joints, smiling at the air for no reason other than the happiness that filled you the moment you realized you were at the Lockwoods'. Your frosted hands had been wrapped up over a very sleepy catch-up the night before.

Ambient music was playing in your head as you took in your surroundings. The browned books and the disarray of trinkets left all around you were more home than anything you were used to.

It felt like you were wading through the most pleasant dream.

It all screeched to a halt the moment you swung your foot down and stepped on something squishy and loud—it groaned like a beast.

Terror clawed out of your throat in the form of a scream. Juttery legs hopped onto the back of the couch to gain height, and weary eyes looked down at the monster under the bed— er, sofa.

The lump inflated, made of patchwork quilt... until that fell away to reveal a very disheveled and very grumpy Anthony Lockwood.

"Ow," he simply said.

Your soul returned to your body. You offered a little laugh as you eased back down on the couch. "Sorry, Anthony."

"Don't worry yourself," he assured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I was the one who snuck down here."

You were a kid when you admitted to being afraid of being alone. It was thoughtful of him to come down here to keep you company when he had a perfectly good bed upstairs.

With a fluttering belly and a sheepish smile, you reached out and patted his sleepy head. "You've always been good to me. I should be more grateful."

He opened one eye to look at you while he rubbed the sleep out of the other. A corner of his lip tipped up into a lazy smile. "You can start with a 'thank you', darling."

"Thank you," you said all too quickly. The deeper octave and the rasp in his voice had finally hit home. It made your cheeks warm.

Judging by the growing smile on his face, he had accomplished what he was intending to.

Your shoulders jumped. A knock broke through the calmness of the air. You turned and saw George in an apron and kitchen mitts. "Are you two going to give each other goo-goo eyes all morning or are you joining us for breakfast?"

—

The investigation resumed as soon as the breakfast plates had been cleaned.

You split into two groups. George and Lucy were off to the archives to work out all of Griffith's social connections, and you and Lockwood were off to the hospital to look for documents that contained the same M.O. or similar timeline to Griffith's case.

"I thought police were the only ones allowed to hold information like this," Lockwood admitted as you two shuffled through files upon files in the hospital archives.

"Most of it, they do. I just hope there's something here relevant to our case," you reply. "If we have to hand this off to detectives, DEPRAC will get involved. They'll just close the case and leave it be."

He nudges up to you after a good three hours of finding absolutely nothing. "Let's look at the last few cases she solved. Could have a clue."

"All of those are solved though," you respond. You were biting your nails at this point. You had to find something before questioning Griffith's ghost again—for Lucy's sanity and for the group's safety.

Lockwood took you by the shoulders just as you began to imagine the worst. "Cherry," he said to snap your attention to him. "If we can't find anything, I don't want you joining us on this one."

"What?" You back away from him in your incredulity. "I helped last night, didn't I? This is my investigation as much as it is yours, Anthony."

"This visitor is a type two, cher. It's not as simple as solving a case. This means lives are in the balance—"

"I'm aware." You put your foot down. You slapped his hands away and shimmy a thick stack from under the desk. "I'm aware of the risks and I consent to them." You pick up the one at the top of the stack and shove it into his chest. He had always liked the curiosity in your eyes, so he was taken aback by the void in them as you looked at him. "I have enough people treating me like I belong at home or behind the safety of iron fences—I do not need you to coddle me like that. My parents do it enough."

He watched your back as you look through the second file in the stack. "You know I don't mean to coddle you..."

"You're doing it right now." Your tone carries a point. "You're telling me to sit this one out because it's too dangerous."

"It's risk assessment—"

"You're underestimating me—"

He slams his hand down on the paper you're idly reading. Bringing your attention to him. "I do this because I don't want to lose you."

Your anger falls away.

The reminder of how how much he'd lost occurs to you. It makes your arms grow limp and your heart to shrink. You can only stare at him with those same eyes he can't unsee even when his are closed. He hates the way he's made sadness swim in them. "Anthony..."

He said your name with the same caution. "You want to know why I became distant?"

"People grow apart when they grow up, Anthony. It's not your fault—"

He knelt beside you, laying his heart out right then and there. "I couldn't stand watching you with your perfect family. They always said any field tampering with the supernatural was a death sentence. I hated how they were right. I hated how they made you so small. I couldn't watch you like that. I hated that you turned into a doctor, just like them. I hated how they were so bad and so cruel, but they were always right."

You were quelled into silence. Biting your lip to keep the tears in. He held your hands delicately, careful of your injury. His touch was light but you knew you would feel it for hours. You held his hands with as much strength as you could muster, even as your skin burned and screeched for reprieve, you did not let go. "They are wrong about you..." you whisper to him.

He went on, plastering on a smile you knew was fake. It sheared your heart to know that. "I knew they were right when they said you would do great things... But they said so many other things that hurt. I couldn't stand being around. It just made me remember that no one was around to defend me anymore. I'm sorry that I had to leave you out, too. Seeing you reminded me of everything they said and I... I couldn't shake it."

Your eyes hurt so much. You gave up somewhere along the way and let the tears fall. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to fight them. I wanted to say so many things but they've always been so- so..."

"Scary?" he supplied with a pathetic laugh. "I know. Don't blame yourself."

You bobbed your head, sniffing as tears went. "You don't have to apologize for all that, Anthony. I'm so sorry, I didn't stand by you when you needed me. But I am going to see this case through to the end, I've dedicated my life to it."

Even when you were hiccuping and heaving for air, you wiped away the tear that tracked down his cheek. His heart surrendered to you then.

"Okay... And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ignored you like I did," he said again, just because he felt like you needed to hear it.

"No. I'm sorry," you reply. Vehemently wiping his eyes. "Anthony, come on. Don't cry. I'm not worth crying for."

"Oh, don't say that," he said lightly. "You're worth everything, cher."

Both of you manage a smile but neither of you are well enough to hold it. You laugh at each other's attempts.

You came clean to him too: How your parents had made you the sun of their solar system; How they poured their knowledge into you like you were a cup meant to hold their images in vivid color; How they moulded you into being the projection of a golden girl—their magnum opus. You carried the weight of their world. Most days, they acted more like teachers than parents. It got worse the older you got. Trophies and medals took the places of photographs until all you became was your achievements.

"They were so hard on you..." he said slowly. It was just sinking I just how trapped you were. You were cornered in a place that was supposed to covet you.

"Still, I should have defended you. I hate that I didn't," you said, wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve. It was the most ungraceful thing he'd seen you do but it brought him back to the cherry pie incident, and he found that he couldn't even think of you in a bad light.

"It's water under the bridge. I hate your parents, but there is one thing we can agree on," Lockwood said, cracking a semblance of a smile.

You cocked your brow at him. Teary eyes and all, he still found you as cute as a button.

"I would make you the sun of my solar system, too. They got that right."

With a snort, you said, "You're good at buttering people up, you know that?" You shoved his shoulder to shut him up but he caught the red on your ears and the smile you hid with a tilt of your head.

—

When you rendezvoused with George and Lucy, it was around 5:40 in the afternoon. The sun was dipping and the ghoulish were about to walk the earth. If George or Lucy noticed the redness in your eyes, they said nothing of it. You hurried along inside the stranded house and relayed newfound information.

"The last case Griffith reviewed involved a woman named Shelly Carson. She immigrated from America and died at 17 while she was interning for Hayes Inc." You flipped the file open on the kitchen table over tea. "They profiled the case to be a suicide but I don't think Griffith agreed." Your finger pointed to the lower left corner where Griffith would put her stamp of approval. The line was void of it. "She wrote 'Garrote not rope??' on the unofficial report. Carson's case could have been a murder."

The information set off a spark in George. He was rubbing invisible dirt from his glasses and finished doing so as you concluded your assessment. "We found a Shelly Carson in our search too," he said. Everyone lent their ears. "She was friends with Griffith in childhood. Alongside Rodney and Gasley. The four of them were close friends from well-off families."

"Ah, they're rich. Explains a lot," Lucy snorted. George ignored her quip.

"Turns out Rodney and Carson were both interested in Gasley. Rodney moved on with some bloke named Jerome Holt, but she suspected him of having an affair with Carson. Holt proposed to prove her wrong."

Lockwood tilted his head. "Sounds like gossip, Georgie."

George brandished an old leather diary. "We tracked down Howard Gasley. He gave us this."

Lockwood lit up. Sitting up with renewed energy. "How did you manage that?"

Lucy grinned. "The death of his girlfriend weighed on his conscience. All I had to do was tell him that her ghost can't be put to rest. Spilled like a waterfall after that."

"So, he did kill her?" You asked.

"Well, that's the difficult bit... The rest of the pages were ripped out and he didn't explicitly say he did. Maybe he did do it, he likes ripping things." George revealed, pointing the diary at the mummified hand in the net. "I think he's involved, one way or another."

Lockwood looked at it, then looked at Lucy. "What do you think, Luce?"

She looked at all three of you with a gleam in her eye. "I think we're about to find our killer."

—

The set-up was same as last night, except the iron circle had been extra fortified to fit all four of you in case things get out of hand. Lockwood stuffed lavenders into your pockets as Lucy lit the the candles.

"If you die tonight, I will not forgive you," Lockwood said as he put a salt-bomb in your hand.

"Same goes for you," you retort with a smile.

He returns your grin, tapping your sides and making your heart flutter before he sets off to help George with inventory.

You cross the chains to help Lucy in the lucky room chosen to host the seance in. With all the furniture pushed to the walls, the sitting room was the epitome of morbid. The carpet was patterned in a way that made it perfect for summoning and the cobwebs embellishing the place contributed to the unsettling ambiance. Lucy herself was lighting candles around the source. You took a pack of matches and helped light the rest of them.

"How are you feeling?" you asked as you lit the last candle and killed the match.

"Confident," she replied. She even spared you a smile. "And you?"

"Scared. Excited, mostly."

She bobs her head. She had a far-away look in her eye before she asked, "Your room is an attic room, correct?"

The nature of the question surprised you. "Yes. Why?"

A smile teased her lips. "I knew it." She looked at you like she saw right through you. "Lockwood was loitering near the window this morning. Just thought it was odd."

You hear him in your mind then — cherry cheeks. Warmth crawled up your neck as Lockwood and George entered the room.

"What are you two blabbering about?" George questioned, off-put by Lucy's smile and your flushed face.

"Nothing," you said together, one more pitched than the other.

George didn't look convinced.

Lockwood spoke up. " You ladies ready? Let's catch ourselves a killer."

The door was left open with an heavy stopper, giving you ample room to run to the iron circle in case things took a turn for the worst. Though, you doubted it would. The other three shared the sentiment. Some kind of energy buzzed between you four and livened the room, something that wasn't there the night before.

Lucy looked between you and Lockwood with a knowing expression you only ever saw from Jessica Lockwood. It was gone as quick as it came but the brief blast from the past made you dizzy. The resemblance must have been what made Lockwood so comfortable with her.

Lockwood had crossed the room and stood by you. Close enough to catch you if you stumbled forward in your daze.

He glanced at his wrist to check the time. "7:30's a good time. Ready, Lucy?"

"Ready," she confirmed. With a tug, the iron net came off of Griffith's mummified hand.

George and Lockwood reconsidered their stances with their rapiers as warmth was immediately sapped from the room. It was akin to jumping into a lake without testing the waters. Blood rushed to your ears. The whispering began again.

"We're here to help you," Lucy said calmly.

Wind began to pick up despite the windows being closed. Lucy persevered. "Iris Griffith, I know that you're experiencing a great injustice. Let me help you. Talk to me."

Lucy closed her eyes. You trust that she was establishing a connection with Griffith. The chill subsided by a fraction, her eyes were moving rapidly like you do when you're in the middle of a dream.

"There's a spectral glow behind you, George." Lockwood caught that faster than you. He was glaring down at the opposite corner of the room.

George's face remained impassive. "You'll tell me if she gets too close."

"Shush!" Lucy threw a hand up in the air. "Shell... Shelly? Yes, what about Shelly Carson? She died before you. You saw her case. They got the autopsy wrong, didn't they?"

A faraway scream interrupted the silence. You fumbled forward. Lockwood caught your arm. "Careful there, cherry cheeks." You lived up to your nickname.

"They all kept... Secret...?" Lucy murmured. "They all killed you to keep a secret?"

If this were a cartoon, you imagine everyone to have exclamation marks above their heads. Finally, some of the mystery began to come into focus. Who are 'they' and what secret were they so desperate to keep?

"Secret... Shelly Carson?" Lucy's expression lightened and the room grew slightly warmer. "Yes! Their secret is Shelly Carson. No? Oh, then what— They killed her to keep the secret... then paid people to say they were innocent."

"Rich people," George tutted.

The anticipation was killing you. All those nights of research, pouring over case files and autopsies were boiling down to this. You gripped Lockwood's sleeve to ground yourself. He glanced at your hand, worried you were seeing something he wasn't, but felt a smile twitching on his lips when he noticed the elation on yours.

Lucy'a voice pierced the air. "They killed her to keep what secret?"

The silence, the anticipation, and the chill in the room melded.

"Rodney pregnant? With Gasley's—" Lucy shut herself up. It was like a bad episode of a telenovela, but this was real, and someone had died because of it. "And when you were about to uncover the truth about Shelly... Rodney and Gasley they got you, too? I'm sorry to hear that. Gasley must have regrets. He had left a diary and... your, ah, hand so we could uncover your story."

It wasn't the most peaceful way to end a talk with a ghost. As soon as Lucy finished the conversation, the apparition of Iris Griffith had appeared once more. Contrary to your hypothesis, finding out the motive and her killers did not put her to rest at all.

She wailed louder than the previous night and zipped about even faster than before. Nothing Lockwood & Co. couldn't handle though. You showered the room with lavender and salt as Lockwood & Co. danced with a ghost.

—

You all appreciated a bit of silence after getting your ears blown off by a visitor. The world clearly didn't like you enough to grant the request, judging by the hunched and fuming figures of your parents blocking the door to 35 Portland Row. They sported crossed arms and crossed expressions. Your mother, specifically, was blowing steam from her ears.

Seeing your sweaty and worn form only confirmed their suspicions: You'd been running around with ghost hunters.

"You ungrateful brat..." your mother muttered.

Lucy stepped forward, blocking her way to you. She was hardened by her own experiences and least expected the horrid woman to turn on her own daughter for simply doing something outside of white-tiled establishments. You were grateful for it.

That only stirred the pot for your parents.

"We sheltered you, spoiled you, and educated you to be the lady you are today. You are our legacy." Your father harumphs forward. "We made you what you are and you would throw that all away by risking your stupid little life for some miniscule ghost adventure!"

George is the next to block their way. He wasn't that protective type, but he did look the part when he wanted to. "It was her childhood dream. Let her live." Leave it to George to be forward.

Your mother stamped her feet. The display was so awfully childish you had to look away. "You are children who don't know a single thing about building a foundation for a good life! You are going to run my daughter to ruin!"

Because of her display, Lockwood & Co. weren't so intimidated by her anymore.

Lockwood had stepped ahead, completing the wall that prevented your iron-fisted parents from getting to you ever again. "We're the best psychical agents in London. We expect a little more respect, doctor."

You could hear the smile in his voice. You couldn't help but smile, too.

With a last burst of anger, your father yelled to you. "You either come home or you find your own way. I'd rather live without a daughter than live with a disappointing one."

It shouldn't hurt as much as it did, but you had given your whole life to live up to the version of you they were dreaming of. Even if you had achieved all that, all it took was having a moment of autonomy for them to turn against you and disregard your sacrifices.

Lockwood had turned to you with a face so full of hope, it brought you back to the other night at the horrid dinner party and the night you snuck out to pick apples. After all that's happened, you found it in yourself to steel your resolve and face your father with bravery that felt unnatural but oh-so addicting.

"I'm going home," you told them.

You walked passed a stunned George and a speechless Lucy. Lockwood was far bluer than the two, but you shot him a smile that put all his worries to rest.

When you were kids, he was the one to take you by the hand and drag you off on a new adventure. This time, it was you so took his hand and pulled him passed your parents's skyscraping figures and into the comforts of 35 Portland Row.

Home, at last.

The first thing you saw as you pulled Lockwood through the threshold was his smile, radiant as ever. He didn't give you much time to admire it. He swooped down and stole your first kiss before you could even blink.

You could hear Lucy and George laugh over your parents plights. You were tired, sweaty, and covered in salt but all you could think of was; you should have done this sooner.

The next morning, you submitted the evidence and psychical report to the relevant authorities, convicting Celia Rodney and Howard Gasley for their crimes. Griffith's source was relinquished from your possession and burned at the Fittes Furnaces, marking the end of Griffith's case. It was the best thing you could do to bring her peace.

Shortly after, Lockwood and Co. welcomed you as the company's official forensic consultant, and in 35 Portland Row, you were finally comfortable in your own skin.

You and Lockwood now stand on the same side of the fence. There is no need shyly avoid your peering eyes when he could have the satisfaction of seeing them flutter close as he kisses you.

Thought, it is nice to remember that all this started with those peering eyes over wrought-iron fences. You and Lockwood reminisce those days over a cherry pie with extra ice cream or an afternoon picking apples from the backyard.

Every now and again, Lockwood would toss an apple over to your parents's side of the fence to scare them.

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

LOVELOCKED (PEOWIF BONUS CHAPTER)

NOTE ➺ Thank you to everyone who made it through to the end! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. It's the first time I completed a project this big so I hope it brings you some joy. To everyone mourning the seasons we'll never get, I'm with you. To my fellow writers, I'd appreciate a tip or two to improve my stories. To everyone in general, may you continue finding fics that comfort you 💙

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄ #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #anthony lockwood angst

[bizarre-blorbo-bracket]

FINAL for real this time: Davis (Juror 8) from Twelve Angry Men vs the Bimodal Distribution from statistics

Propaganda under the cut, and it's REALLY worth it:

Davis (Juror 8) (these are all from the single submitter)

a quick lil list babes, and I apologise for all of this in advance:

He's from the fucking film 12 angry men. like, aside from letterbox bootlickers and middle school hass students NO ONE has watched this film let alone care about it, it was made in 1957, is shot almost exclusively in one room and the entire film is just middle aged white men yelling at each other over whether some not white poor kid should be sent to the electric chair. what the fuck.

Henry Fonda, the actor, was 52 years old at the time of filming

Henry Fonda is the father of Jane Fonda, the woman who would revolutionise the 80's with her home workouts and her blindingly neon leg warmers.

His name wasn't revealed until the very end of the film and even then it's just "Davis."

I could honestly give him a lil smooch

He's absolutely not girlypop but he's the ally-iest ally who's ever allied

He's categorised as a "Benevolent Leader" on the Heroes Wiki

instead of the overwhelming urge for me to coddle him like most all other blorbos, i would appreciate it switched

I have a photo of him inside my saxophone case and sometimes i forget he's in there, then he creeps into my saxophone bell and when I play it he shoots out like a ballistic missile

Dude, on ao3 there's more fanfiction about the real life 80's British punk band The Clash than the entire film of 12 angry men, let alone Davis (80 fics come up under the clash, while 10 come up for 12 angry men)

I have a counter, and I've watched 12 Angry men a total of 145 times. The figure is up on my wall in tallies. whenever the number goes up, I like to watch it in 5's so then I can put another full group of tallies on my wall.

I have incredibly detailed stories about how Davis would boogie down to ringo starr's solo career, and they're written within the margins of a book called Tobruk written by Peter Fitzsimons. The only reason I reread that book is to wonder at my elaborate works of fiction

My HASS teacher was the one to introduce me to 12 Angry Men as he played it for the entire class. He gave us a set of questions to complete on the film and a few Law based questions as a little treat, and he expected it to be handed in the next day. What he didn't expect was an 11 page monster of a response that included social commentary, 4 paragraphs dissecting the character of Davis alone, deeply discussed comparisons between the landscapes of politics and law in the 50's to the present, and basically an entire point-for-point summarisation of the film, completed with obscure quotes from Truman, Eisenhower, Nixon and Presley (Elvis). He presented the printed masterpiece in front of the entire class to shame me.

After class he explained how his favourite Juror would either be 6 or 5, because 6 seems like a big dumb teddybear and he just liked 5. I explained how I liked Davis because he didn't want to send a kid to die, then he told me how Davis would make a good cowboy (at this point in time I was unaware of Henry Fonda's role in Once Upon A Time in The West) and I proceeded to go home and write a 3 part orchestral composition that I could pretend would play as the soundtrack to Juror 8: A Cowboy's Tale or something like that

I had started to make an animation meme starring Davis but only gave up when photoshop literally deleted itself from my laptop

I didn't even hear that Juror 8's name was Davis when I first watched it in class, somehow I only heard it on my 6th rewatch but when I did I literally got so excited I literally got winded and cried a little bit, I had to take a panadol because I got so lightheaded

I have learned the musical motif that plays throughout the film on saxophone, clarinet, recorder, guitar, bass, ukulele, piano and trumpet

I have visions of him

One of Davis' 3 children HAS to be gay and nothing can convince me otherwise

honest to god I'd be a home wrecker if it came to him

I quote not only Davis but the film a lot, and sometimes in the dead silence of all my friends I go on about how the old man couldn't have possibly made it to the door in such a short amount of time to see the kid running down the stairs (because the old man has a limp, and Davis proved it my limping around the room, which I have to say was incredibly attractive of him)

He's literally an architect

I once had a dream where Davis was in my bass guitar case when I opened it, and i literally just picked him up and started picking him like a bass guitar until I tried to play a full chord and he bit the hand that was meant to be on the fretboard. I dropped him and he fell on his ass, and when I said "what the hell dude what was that for" he said bass chords are lowkey ugly to listen to, and since then i don't like playing bass chords because now they're lowkey ugly to listen to. before this ordeal, i enjoyed them, but alas

i once got my romantic partner to write me a davis x reader fanfiction as a birthday present

my parents believe that Davis is my first celebrity crush, and while they're actually wrong it's still actually so embarrassing they believe that because OH MY GOD it's literally JUROR 8 FROM 12 ANGRY MEN

I've attempted slam poetry about him

I've eaten a paper printed full a4 size photo of his hand

I would also not mind him to be literally my father, but given the rest of the things I've just said about him that's really weird and I recognise that

the Bimodal Distribution

First of all, it's a math concept. that is already pretty bizarre of a thing to be blorbo-ifying. Second of all, I don't know any calculus, and I don't consider myself a math person (because I hate arithmetic), but I really like this guy for some reason. I mean this graph clearly holds the secrets of the universe. don't you just want to l o o k at it . like you could solve everything in the world with that boy

#bimodal distribution #davis #juror 8 #12 angry men #final

[meraki-yao]

Ok I got four asks in my inbox about the new Nick interview and I'm actually mad. I'm actually livid and exasperated because I've been getting and answering similar asks over and over again, and yet people still come to me with the same statement and the same conviction EVEN AFTER I POINTED OUT EVERY FUCKING FACT THAT CONTRADICTS IT.

Do you really need a 19-year-old to teach you reading comprehension and media literacy?

Ok, fine.

Statement One: Nick doesn't appreciate RWRB, he's brushing it aside, which is why it wasn't mentioned in the New York Times

One: Editorials don't always portray the actual thoughts or agenda of the interviewee.

Unlike a video interview or a podcast interview where we can hear the whole conversation directly from Nick with his voice, and even if there are cuts and edits we can pick it up via visual or audio continuity, in a written editorial the only thing we can rely on is the writer's words, or in other words, the writer's paraphrase or quotation of what Nick said to him. This gives much bigger room for any changes or manipulation in content because we have nothing else to reference.

It is clear that in the past three editorials, the writer or the magazine itself has deliberately demeaning and devaluing RWRB. In NY Magazine, it was only mentioned in one line and degraded to "a queer take on a common straight trope" (see the choice of word "president's daughter"), with the implication being at its core, it's a straight story/ reliant on past straight stories to be interesting; Hunger Magazine calls it fujoshi-pleasing (fujoshi: Japanese slang, denoting how a straight woman who enjoys fictional gay content is "rotten", too ruined to be married, an insult to both the audience/fans and the movie itself ); and this time New York Magazine didn't even mention RWRB, when let's be honest, it's Nick's biggest breakout role.

"Once Is Chance, Twice is Coincidence, Third Time's A Pattern" this is deliberate. I can't say what the agenda is, my guess is some extent of latent homophobia, but it's clear that this is a fucking pattern. In fact, besides the hidden agenda of devaluing RWRB, these editorials show another hidden agenda, but that's something for a later day. PM me id you want to now, I won't discuss that one on my public platform yet.

Again, there is so much more room for twisting and hiding words in a written editorial. In all the video interviews Nick did, especially in the UK, when has he ever avoided a question about RWRB? When has he ever not shown gratitude towards the project?

Two: In all video evidence that can't be manipulated, that clearly shows Nick's own thoughts which not influenced by any other party, he has made it clear that he adores RWRB.

Why else would he sign books during the M&G London premiere, going as far as to stay behind after the event just to sign books? Same with the LA M&G premiere and TIOY premiere: those were promotions for other projects, he had a valid reason to refuse to sign the RWRB books and posters, but he didn't, always signing with a big smile on his face, even playfully signing on Taylor's face. He said it himself in his Instagram post, and I quote: "The love that Henry has received has been one of the most heartwarming things to watch. It's been difficult to not talk about him. So thank you for seeing him for all he is. He was a joy to bring to life." There's your proof, directly from the man himself.

Statement Two: Nick's not interested in doing a sequel, he said he's done playing princes and he's done playing romantic leads

One: "Done playing princes" doesn't mean literally done playing princes, it means he wants to try more roles and not be stuck with only being known as the "prince" guy. (even though he's literally a prince lol)

Plus, he said that after Robert, but then Henry came along and he was attracted to Henry as a character with his scared but loving heart. He doesn't just view Henry as a prince, he views Henry as a complex, delicate person who so happens to be a prince. Him saying he's done playing princes means in the future, he doesn't really want another royal on his filmography, but this doesn't mean he doesn't want to continue Henry's story. With the given context, namely asking him about future projects he wants to take up, "he's done playing princes" and "he doesn't want to play Henry anymore" are not mutually inclusive.

Two: "Done playing romantic leads" means he wants to try new things and take up new projects that aren't romance films.

This doesn't include the continuation of already established characters i.e. sequels, this just means if he were to take up brand new projects, he wants to try something else. Sequels are inherently different from new projects because again, sequels are based on already established characters.

Three: He said several times ON VIDEO that he'd be in for a sequel

In this one, when asked if he'd be up for a sequel, he said, and I quote "Look, I think with any opportunity of doing a sequel, I think, you know, the script has to be right. But obviously, it was so lovely to see how many people it touched and having that resonance is incredibly important to me, so, yeah. Of course."

In this one, when asked if they have had conservation on a potential sequel, he said, and again I quote: "Yeah, I mean definitely had conversations. I think we're all on the same page in the sense that, you know, the script needs to be right, and sort of all the different components need to be right because we made something that has such a positive effect and I think the last thing you'd wanna do is ruin that or take that in a way, so, you know, the conversations are definitely being had."

And there are more videos from red carpet interviews that I can't be bothered to find right now but he says more or less the same thing.

(look I even transcribed it)

Not only is he on board with a sequel, he's also being careful about it to make sure once they do get to making it, it's something good. He's on board, and he values it. And again, that's directly from him.

We have a phrase in Chinese: 斷章取義, meaning "breaking off a small part of an article and deriving the meaning from that single part" That's what so many of you, in particular, the people who come to my inbox with the sentiments of the above-mentioned statement are doing. Please, use critical thinking and look at the whole picture. Stop making judgments from the surface of one source.

Tagging my friends @alittlefrenchtree and @myteavsricochet because it looks like they've been getting the same things I got

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #nicholas galitzine #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #rwrb thoughts #meraki essay #i'm not someone who gets mad easily but I've had enough of this #nick galitzine

[trekkiedean]

while I'm being earnest: the thing is, this show is not consistent about most things. I've talked in the past about how, for instance, there are arcs that just don't make sense when viewed through a purely watsonian lens, or episodes that are a lot more effective out of context. the writers' room was not particularly cohesive. continuity is a joke. characterization changes from one episode to the next. (I've heard that they didn't have a writers' bible, and I have no idea whether that's true, but frankly I think I'd be more surprised if it wasn't true.) and that's before we get into how actors' and directors' choices can bring new layers to the episodes as written, or even seem to say something completely different from the episodes as written!

I think that's a big reason why this fandom is so huge and rich and has lasted so long: there's room for so many interpretations. not only is it possible to pick and choose which parts of canon to keep, I'd argue that to some extent it's actually necessary to do so; there are so many inconsistencies and continuity errors and internal contradictions that you'll just never be able to come up with a grand unified theory of supernatural. fandom lives in the inconsistencies and the continuity errors and the internal contradictions! and with spn, there are so many of them, and so much of the show, that there are very few theories and headcanons and interpretations that can't be justified in some way. yes, there are some I like more than others, and yes, there are some I think are better justified than others! but in general, even if I completely disagree with someone's take, I can also see where they're getting it from. I may think, and point out, that there are things that contradict their take, but they'll have some examples of things that support it. which one of us is right? both of us! neither of us! two supernatural fans, three opinions, baby!

but the downside of the fact that there are very few interpretations that can't be justified is that…there are very few interpretations that can't be justified. like, I'm sorry to break this to everyone, but no voice is ever going to ring out from the heavens and declare conclusively that one of us is the winner of fandom. (and even if it did, my people don't generally put much stock in that kind of thing.) someone's interpretation being different from yours, even wildly different, even different in a way you don't like, is not necessarily a sign that they haven't watched the show, or that they don't enjoy it, or that they're stupid, or that you're coming from a place of cool logic and rationality and they're just making shit up and projecting, or that they want to spite you personally. I think all of us (and I totally include myself in this) could stand to get a little more comfortable with that. because at the end of the day what matters a lot more than whether you think someone is right or not is how the two of you treat each other. publicly mocking and belittling someone because you don't like their take on a fictional character is just not the way to keep a fandom going.

#WHEW that sure was earnest. don't worry I'm going back to the weird hornyposting about cas you all know and love #jules.txt

[bcacstuff]

The Zanzibar Saga

Disclaimer: Everything is open to interpretation. Opinions, theories or speculations I write are my own, they are not facts I merely try to make sense using logic. Opinions, theories or speculations in the comments belong to the commenters and do not necessarily reflect mine. This also goes for all the Anons quotes, which I posted in italics. I had to take parts of Anons, and could not post all I've received. (Sorry for the ones I left out)

Some advice in advance, put the kettle on and make a good pot of tea or coffee, whatever you prefer. This is going to be a very long post. I tried to be thorough expressing my thoughts during and about this saga and as unbiased as possible. I also want to do as much as possible justice to the many people who sent me their messages.

For people not having the time to read the whole post, I wrote a TLDR/some end conclusions at the end of the post.

Where to start... perhaps at the beginning. Two weeks ago, on a Friday (night my local time) 1st of September stories appear on accounts that were involved in the SS-tour having a boat party. At first on private accounts, which I did not use, but soon they were reposted on public accounts as well. So I reported about what I saw. Some accounts we know were tagged on it so it wasn't that hard to find more footage. A tiktok was posted and later on posted on the SS account as well. Another tiktok occurred later on. Little was I to know about the aftermath of this party.

What enrolled in the following days or week could be best described as a soap worthy masterpiece saga script writers would be envious of. Depending on the agendas of the several fractions in this fandom the most fantastic fiction was written in no time, all mostly based on some tiny snippets of the videos. I was honestly wondering if I was watching another season of Bravo's Below Deck.

But first let me introduce you to the producers, the main cast and the guest stars in this saga. (for the full experience, sound on!)

Besides some nasty messages:

[I shall spare you the ones with more colourfull language and the one that took more that 5 paragraphs to share her angry thoughts with me... 🙄]

...my inbox got flooded with generally one question:

Did you recognize the girl with the white sunglasses sitting next to Marina?

At 0.11 second of the video, you can see a girl with blue bikinis and white sunglasses and Sam is sitting next to and behind her could be his date?

I suddenly noticed a new person on the boat!!!!! She sit next to Sam and Marina. She has a bandana, white sunglasses, blue bikini and some kind of white skirt. Sam is very close to her even when he sit with his back. She lool like a model and I doubt she is from the team.

... and numerous similar ones...

Oh blimey, I thought, he appears to be sitting NEXT TO A WOMAN!!!! 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 Seriously....????

All about a few tiny snippets in the tiktok videos, blink and you will miss her. But yes, we all know how this fandom is superior in examining videos frame by frame and analyzing it into dept.

The snippets, I'm sure you've seen them, but for the sake of completeness:

Both where he sits with his back towards her, more interested in the sea and as it looks having a conversation with Marina. It does look close, but those seats on the boat are rather large and deep. She appears to have a conversation with Melissa.

And there is one he's seen from the front, watching Joshua dancing as all others did. Joshua is blocking the view on the woman next to Sam.

In another snippet you can see the size of these seats on the boat as well

There's one more snippet she appears in, and seems to be standing alone while the food has apparently arrived, and again look at the size of those seats.

In other parts he's just having conversation with others, here with Marina and her friend Michelle

So far the snippets. I called it a day for that night, it was already quite late and I felt slightly disappointed and appalled by the reactions. Only to come back the next day to feel even more appalled finding a name in my inbox and learning that on another blog, well known for creating fanfic only from a name drop in an inbox as we have seen since the hiatus began, the woman was already declared as the new one, as well as 'she's the one'. Not only on that blog btw. but also in my inbox.

Sam is not going to join Matt because he is with his new date, Sam is so excited about this one. They are already in a romantic place together.

I think Sam has made his best choice. I like her. Sam seemed very happy and excited both on the boat and with his meeting with the fans. Maybe he has finally found the love of his life,

Sam wants everybody to know about her maybe he never thought her name will be out too soon.

And a fair number similar ones. Now I admire all your romantic feelings Anons, but I'm afraid you read too many dime novels or have seen LA a couple of times too much. I often get these Anons telling me I know nothing because social media isn't showing the real life. So it looks to me turning these one frame snippets into a romantic novel DG could use for her last book, is a bit too much for my taste to make all kind of these assumptions on.

🤦‍♀️

What if that is not her at all, those were my thoughts. This woman will just get bombarded with all kind of idiocy, as we could already see how the number of followers on that private account increased. While at the same time other sides quickly created versions of the saga including some horrific names the woman was called fitting a certain agenda.

Haven't we seen this all before a fair number of times? Haven't we been appalled by this before a number of times? Does this fandom never learn anything from the past?

My inbox had questions

For months, no one reveal CM's name, then this girl's name is outed immediately, why?

and

How did we learn bikini woman's name? How did someone first figure out who the woman was?

and

The whole thing is suspicious to me. Who is this or these people who give info to Purv? No way she could be recognized so fast. someone is playing here

To be honest, I was looking for the same answers and had the same suspicious feeling as well. Profiles were searched out on other platforms, her job and a picture from Linkedin was found. Now I do the same when a name gets dropped as well, but to post it already in a fashion that it is all a fact before anything can be confirmed...not so much. And quite honestly, identifying someone from a few snippets where the person is wearing huge white sunglasses and a bandana hiding most of her hair and face.... doesn't gave me a positive confirmation at all.

Now I do not believe in some kind of PR plants or TPTB narratives dropping names in inboxes. Even me and my blog have been accused of being part of his PR team when I merely posted just a pic or video of some events happening, when it didn't fit the agendas of said fractions of the fandom. Now if only they would tell me where to send my bill!

But in all fairness I must say, this summer, or already since OL S7 wrapped, the number of names dropped of totally unknown women who could not be connected to him in any sense, got quite astonishing to me. Yes, in my inbox as well, but I just don't like to put names of women out there just throwing them under the bus, or against a well known wall just to see what sticks. We've seen quite some curious ones, just reminding fake Emily and Cinderella's Hyrox patches and all the innuendos of women being in Miami, NYC, LA, places where many go. I'm not accusing P of mischief or making things up herself, let that be clear. If anything, than I rather think she's the one that has been played on, she turned out to be an easy target. She posts most of the time blindly without any or sloppy research and doesn't question where the information actually comes from if it fits her agenda.

I chose to step away a bit, besides the weather here in the Netherlands was extraordinary for the time of year. All week temperatures in the high twenties, and last weekend even 30+.

My inbox didn't calm down, more messages but now asking me to shed my lights on things, valuing my take on it. My silence didn't go unnoticed it seems. One Anon wrote:

Hi BC I am a little surprised that this time you prefer to be quite and not to tell us about your thoughts on the new date.

While another wrote

I really enjoy your blog, mainly because of you. Whenever something happens in Sam's life, and others present a different perspective, I tend to trust your viewpoint, and more often you are correct. However, this is the first time you haven't posted anything about Sam and the girl in the blue bikini. There are some aspects that don't quite make sense to me, and I was looking forward to you confirming or addressing that. It appears that this time you do agree with Purve and have decided not to post anything.

And

Are you not writing anything about the new SE girl or are you investigating to find out the truth? ☺️

Yes, I was quietly doing my own research, looking for information and here and there discussed some ideas and opinions in private chats. And no I do not agree with everything P wrote.

I also was (and still am not) in the clear whether Susie is the same woman on the boat. Therefore I call Susie, Susie and the woman on the boat SusieOrNotSusie. At the end of the story, it doesn't really matter as it doesn't really change my view on things.

Some Anons were a bit more humorous

If you are on vacation again....come back right now....I repeat it is an emergency. Composition of the alphabet soup: ship, SH, dolphins, music, gin, employees with appropriate clothing, shirtless boss, new secret employee with seductive clothing, CP costume. Solution?

As well as some Anons using their logic writing to me, I had the same questions and misgivings [note some of these are parts of longer messages]

We REALLY need your take on this whole blonde in the blue bikini on the yacht with Sam story. P has already created a relationship with a couple name... again. The shippers are rabid to prove it was staged for PR and nothing else. Tell us your thinking..please! Do you think, based on Sam's patterns and history, that he would bring a date on this trip knowing she would be filmed more than once? So out in the open knowing this fandom would figure out who she is?

Can't really see SH having a date on a boat with his employees and cameras everywhere. Seems too public for him. Too hard to keep her hidden from every camera. P now thinks she's on holiday with SH. Marina tagged a woman in a story over the weekend about the yacht day and that woman follows this Susie on IG. Doesn't look to be a new follow either. Perhaps she's a friend of a friend who was visiting LA and joined Marina and her other two friends?? Just seems so different from Sam's normal MO. Especially since there were multiple TikToks.

Logically, I just cannot believe that SH would have an event for his team on a yacht, let them film what looks like some promo (AN with a gin bottle, for example), and allow his team to post two TikToks that would show a woman with him that he is dating. It also looks like his new manager, Duncan Millership was on the yacht with them. I can't imagine that private Sam (when it comes to dates) would have his new mgr, his work teams, Alex and Marina there with a new date. He knows, surely by now, how different elements of this fandom search through every photo and meeting of him with possible new gfs. I just can't get my logical brain to be okay with him allowing it to be out in the open.

Am I crazy? I just cannot believe that Sam would allow those boat videos and TikToks to be shared everywhere- including on the SS page- if he had a date on the boat. He has had some terrible experiences in the past with how potential dates/gfs were treated. He didn't even follow AM or MC when he was supposed to be dating them, probably to try to protect them or keep it quiet. Would he really do this? It doesn't seem to fit his patterns- especially since Gia. Loads of speculation about how he met the woman, but we don't even know if he knew her or if she was a friend of someone he knew was coming on the boat. It also just feels off to me. Do you think he would share or let others share so many videos with a potential date on the boat? Of course, on the one blog they've apparently known each other and/or hooked up since his visit to Austin. On the other end of the spectrum it's just fake- smoke and mirrors. Just can't see Sam going this public until he's really ready to make a relationship public.

Yes, that was, and still is, my first huge red flag 🚩 as well. I agree, he will not take a date he barely knows (even if people try to make it credible that he knew her for a longer time because of 'likes' 🙄). I don't think he had much time to date and get to know anyone that well that he'd be comfortable to take her on that boat trip with all of his team. We've all seen he worked all the while in Belgium with some visits to NYC for promo and his b-day in Miami with friends, no women involved. On top of that, if you look at the people on that boat, they're part of the SS team or the MPC team (or both), all associated to SS or MPC or GGC some with partners and friends who were invited along.

Marina posted a story of the dolphins, tagging 2 women. Michelle who is a friend of hers she took with her followed already by her and her boss as well. And she tagged Melissa P, who she started to follow after the boat trip, clearly met her first time during the trip. Melissa also followed Marina back a few days later on. However Marina didn't tag SusieOrNotSusie nor followed her! In fact nobody did.

After Marina posted her story tagging Melissa, it wasn't hard to find out that Melissa seems to be the only connection to Susie, following her on IG. She already followed Susie before the boat trip though. This is the only connection that can be made between Susie and anyone on that boat trip as far as I can see.

Now I do not know what the connection between Melissa (and her partner) to Sam, or his business is. I could find out that Melissa seems to be a sales manager at Hyundai. I don't know what the name of her partner is, he could as well be associated somehow to the business team on that boat and how these people were invited on the trip.

Anyway, for me, this boat trip was for team and the business associations. SusieOrNotSusie could easily be a connection to anyone else on that boat. What I did notice from what we can tell from the footage is how the SS (tour) team mostly interacted amongst the ones they know from the team on one side of the boat, while on the other side the rest was mostly placed and interacting. Looks a bit like 2 parties not really knowing each other.

So anyone claiming he must have met Susie in Austin, it doesn't occur they knew her to me. As for nobody following her from that boat trip nor Susie following anybody else from that trip than Melissa she already followed upfront, people claiming Sam told them not to sounds quite contradictory to him having her on that boat with everyone and allowing all the footage, not to mention the ones that are convinced they're a romantic couple for real and want to go public.

And a final thought on connections, I didn't hear or see from anyone, but what to me was quite curious. How is it that from all the people he met in Austin, or on his tour for that matter, or could have picked someone from Raya, how is it that Susie curiously is connected to one more guest on that boat! Now there's a coincidence, no? Or is it not a coincidence??? Did SusieOrNotSusie bring them along like her chaperone? I don't think so...

btw. The Anon mentioning Duncan Millership, I reckon this came from a shippers blog where this was mentioned, together with something Sam said during the private fan con in KC. Which I'm not sure was serious or just a joke. It's about this man with whom Alex seems to be in conversation:

Now firstly I doubt this is Duncan Millership, just search his picture via Google and you find he doesn't look like this man.

Secondly fwiw, Duncan Millership is an old friend of Sam, from even before his OL breakout. he's one of the first followers of Sam.

For the ones that do not know, Katie Rebekah, friend his London time and has been named as one of his first gfs. VickiLawson is his ex SIL, Faye Thomas took his first photographed for his Portfolio.

Meanwhile I was told by a number of people that

Susie Evans ALSO posted from Shutters a few days ago.

and it took a bit of time before this screenshot was shared...

Now, I'm not sure when exactly she posted this story, which as I learned from bts chats, was originally a video (so people saying it's photoshopped or anything, I rule that out).

It is the Beach House Suite at Shutters, as pointed out, the same suite the interview with the tastingalliance was conducted. I have no doubts about that.

The Tasting Alliance interview due out tomorrow was also done at Shutters , wearing the kilt he had on on Sunday .

Yes for the kilt, other shirt though. (where is the interview btw.?)

Sam's interview with the lady from The Tasting Alliance was filmed inside a suite at Shutters on the Beach that costs over $5,000 a night. Looks like that hotel is about 10 mins from Marina del Rey. P is sharing a photo supposedly from Susie Evans' IG inside a suite like that. She claims it's Sam's suite and that SE wouldn't have an expensive suite like that. She also posted late yesterday that SE is back in Austin now. .... Could this Susie E have been there as a friend of a friend, gotten to go into the suite where they were meeting/ working and took a photo of herself there? The photo looks really filtered. It's interesting to me that if you are staying in a suite that nice with a great view that you would take your photo in front of a messy table that doesn't really show the cool place where you are. Why not a video of the whole suite to show what an awesome and gorgeous place to be?

[note the above Anon is part of a longer message of which I took the relevant parts]

Of course the easiest thing is to conclude she was staying there with him in that suite, if that is what your agenda fits. And if you don't question yourself the obvious questions. Like would he conduct an interview in the same suite he was staying with a date? Quite a huge red flag 🚩 for me again. Turning it into some kind of romantic weekend or week sounds a bit reductive for my taste.

The screenshot of Susie seems to have been a video, as I was told, but not from the entire suite. As above Anon points out, why is there such a mess on the table? And for sure the helmet on the table indicated Sam was there, well we already knew because of the interview of course. But tell me if you are staying there, would you put your helmet on the table and bags on the chair, or put it in the hallway f.i. where there is room to leave stuff like that? And it is right when you enter the suite.

The suite was for biz. He has money but not thst kind of money. Shutters has no reason to comp him a suite. It was a set for interview which is often done, not as costly, and biz expense.

I tend to lean towards him driving on the bike to the suite on Sunday, that was hired for an afternoon or day perhaps to conduct the interview and for him to change and get to the event and back. The recent fan pic at Shutters shows him in the shirt (and SS pin) he wore at the event. It also gives merit to what Anon above wrote, being possibly a friend of a friend gotten to go into the Suite to record her video. And as the other Anon above points out, he has money and he does live the luxury live at hotels for what we can see, but he doesn't spill that kind of money on a date. And if he would do so, he better put her into the the Four Seasons Hotel, where he only stays when he's in LA on Starz's account.

I heard there were people saying other team members posted from that location or suite as well. I think that's a myth, I didn't see anybody from the team post from it. I do not think it was some kind of base for the team to stay and from there went for the boat trip. Only Chrissy stayed at a hotel, as she is not living in LA, and I haven't seen her posting from a hotel. So saying so in order to make it look like the hotel Suite was hired for the whole team is false information imo. However it's still credible to me it was hired for the Sunday interview and base from where he went to the event.

Other thoughts I had were, why is this the only screenshot of her in LA? Nothing from the boat, nothing from anything in LA we've seen. Didn't he take her out to diner somewhere? Not a fancy motorbike ride along Abbot Kinney and Venice? Btw. Where is her helmet? Only one helmet on that table! And to this day I haven't seen the white sunnies nor the same bandana in any of her pictures. Older or new ones.

Typically, my attitude is, if you weren't there you don't know what happened and don't get into the hoopla, be open. This time I felt the same, until the fan picture with him at the coffee shop displaying the helmet. He's really been caught the past years in LA by a fan or at least they haven't posted such encounters. This time within 48 hours, a coincidental fan picture with him in sane Shutters clothing with same helmet in the suite picture with the woman, who was the woman on the boat. Sorry too many coincidences to not be a story someone is selling. And as you know there are many stories around. This time, seeing the watchers, the drama creators, the examiners and researchers, all with an agenda, it's becoming more strange than ever. Thoughts?

Coming back to the part I wrote above about how Susie's name came to be known at all in this realm. My inquiries did put me on a trail of an infamous group in this fandom. I do not have the answers on the how, what for or why, and I think I don't want to touch that lid of a pot so full of 'Stranger Things'! 🤐 [for the ones longer in this fandom, this should tell you enough.] Don't sent me any (anon) questions about it, I wont answer, I do not have the answers. I just have my suspicions that I keep in mind and that's enough to me.

About the picture outside Shutters and the fan pic at the coffee shop on Abbey Kinney Blv. I do not think they were 'planted' though. This are not the things I wrote about above. There are bloggers pointing out how the picture outside Shutters is removed and the fan that saw him at the coffee shop is now private. The simple reason for that we can all guess. These people are bothered and even perhaps harassed about their post. We've seen it before, some told us about it, remember how the journalist in Ratingen showed us why she removed his pic? I even noticed how that Friday when the videos of the boat party were posted, some where on Joshua's account. I didn't mention him but his account name was on one of the pics. I caught the dolphin story, and was just in time to get the video of Sam dancing between his team members. A moment later he was private! And now even Melanie has changed her tiktok account name and removed one of the videos. Going by the things I find in my inbox, you can draw your own conclusions from that.

Some other thought that was sent to me

Why hasn't anyone assumed the woman or women were Alex's date? Does one dare ask that question and get hit with body shaming comments? Certainly he was in the suite too.

No Anon, others made that assumption as well. I feel hesitant to post this, yet took this one only to show people who wrote to me thought of this as an option. But let's not forget, the man has 2 young daughters so I feel very reluctant making assumptions like this. And in fact, I don't think so.

TLDR or some end conclusions:

Is Susie the woman on the boat or not? I do not have an answer on that. Many of you wrote to me and I posted these images to compare. Her nose and chin seem different. Opinions are mixed. But it's quite hard (and to me unlikely) to confirm a positive ID on the woman on the boat as her face is hidden for a great deal. And as an Anon pointed out to me, do these women he dates not all look the same...? 🤔

Anyway, it doesn't matter that much as eyes are now peeled on Susie who seems to be Susie and took a video in the suite at Shutters. No other footage, nothing else from this supposed weekend. Only this one screenshot from a video that miraculously reached this fandom #justsaying

Red flags all over, no I don't think he'd take a date he can't have known long, on a boat with his team members and business associates where video's and pictures about the event were happily shared on known accounts. Despite P naming how he took Abby and MM to work events, he learned what the consequences are. He's not always smart, but he isn't that dumb as well.

Conducting an interview and clearly using an hotel suite as base to get to the last announced event in the same suite he's staying with a date is a huge red flag and a big no to me. There are other options how Susie got this video recorded there with his stuff so obviously showing. In no way would he be okay her showing and posting this.

He stayed at AN's house all the time he was in LA, he does so since AN owns this house. Before Sam always stayed at Airbnbs when he was for a longer time in LA, when for shorter times, say a few days, like last year when he came back from LV and went to Mexico a few days later on he stays at Shutters. When he's there on Starz's account, he stays at the Four Seasons. We've seen him doing zoom interviews from Shutters and the Four Season, as well as from airbnb's in the past. When Nic R was there, he posted a picture of the motorbike at a fuel station, which I located and was near to AN's house in the HH. As to why not use that as a base, if you know this house you know it is not the most accessible place in the HH with a huge stairway to the entrance.

Social Media times showed, how he was online most of the usual hours. Though not posting that much, as he's restricted of course because of the strike. Liking and even commenting on posts was no less. Nothing that implicated dating or having someone over for a date.

I doubt we'll see anything more from Susie. Expect the usual innuendo, but I know where to put my money. Just another is/was she or is/was she not soap bubble for this fandom, gotta say a weird one because of the suite screenshot. I do agree with the many people that notice how things do not add up to what we know about SH and his MO. And frankly he's a creature of habits he shows that all the time. But hey, stranger things happen.

For all we've seen now, she was back in Austin quite soon after the weekend and currently in Denver. While we've seen him for a week in LA at least biking around with AN, and last we've seen and heard he's been all week in NYC. So much for the 'happy couple'....

[gravestrain]

as the seasons change (p.l. dubois)

@bqstqnbruin Christina! writing for you has been such an honor. I've been following you since I joined Tumblr almost three years ago and have always loved your fics. to write something for you this time is such a joy. 💖

I'm sorry to both you and Demi for the late post. I work 60 hours a week in summers and I'm taking a class that has taken up all of my time. But I promise my tardiness does not dim the amount of love I have for you both (and this fic).

as always: this is a work of fiction. it's hard to imagine why anyone would move from LA to Winnipeg after college, but I tried my best to make it as realistic as possible.

Christina, I hope you love this as much as I loved writing it. It has been such a joy to write this for you. And as always, Demi, thank you for hosting such a wonderful event for our community. @wyattjohnston

3k words. loosely edited, please excuse any mistakes. flashbacks that are not separated by a breaker are written in italics.

You never wanted to hate hockey. Growing up in Southern California, you had always tuned in with the Kings, even attending a few games. But in your mid 20s, you found yourself muting everything to do with hockey, trying to block it out of your head entirely.

It wasn't always like this. In fact, there was a time in your life where it was your entire life. Until it wasn't. You had met Pierre-Luc Dubois shortly after his arrival to Winnipeg. You were living in Winnipeg, fresh out of college working part time on the weekends at a bar. You picked up a part time job to help increase your funds from your starting salary. You truly did have your dream job, but it definitely isn't the dream pay. And moving from your hometown to Winnipeg caused a lot of additional funds.

As soon as you met him, you quickly became aware of his charm, charisma, and unfortunately, his impact on you. And how you could you forget him, with his silky accent always calling you "honey," no matter what the conversation entailed. Every greeting, every question, every conversation, was always started or ended with him addressing you as honey. His reasoning?

"You're as sweet as honey," his deep accented voice told you one day shortly after meeting him. He quickly looked around to survey his surroundings, and then whispered in your ear: "I'm sure you taste like it too."

Of course, your cheeks burned immediately at that. It was definitely not a conversation appropriate for your workplace, under the neon lights of the bar you worked at. Of course, Pierre was the one who was starting those interactions, but you never shut him down, and truthfully you bashed in the attention. It made you feel wanted, it made you feel beautiful. You had your share of guys in college and even a couple in Winnipeg before you met Pierre-Luc, but as soon as you met Pierre, you were done for. There had been no one once you met him, and there had been nothing after him. You had found yourself reminiscing on the times that you and Pierre shared. You were both in love, and you wondered how a connection so powerful, so addicting, had turned into heartbreak.

________

"Holy hell, who is that," your coworker Jess muttered out when the two of you were getting ready to get behind the bar for the night. It was a Saturday night, the Jets fresh off an afternoon victory. You had known that the Jets would frequent the bar you worked in after wins, hell you had met a lot of them, but you knew you had never met him. You would have remembered a face like his, a voice like his. A smile like his. Or a smirk, should you say.

"That's Pierre-Luc Dubois, newly acquired by the Jets and the most beautiful man to ever walk through our doors," another coworker, Anthony muttered as he tied his apron around his waist, causing you all to infer that he was familiar with the hockey player. You weren't surprised that he knew him. "Sports gay," the self proclaimed title that Anthony gave himself long before you met was incredibly correct. He had quickly become one of your best friends both at work and outside of work in the short year that you had worked at the bar.

Jess strategically decided to start at the other side of the bar from the players, causing you the responsibility to serve them. You never minded, you never had an issue with any of them. They always tipped well and were kind and friendly to you. They never complained about any service issues, and some of them even went as far to ask you about your personal life. The ones who did knew that this was an extra job for you and always threw in some extra money on top of the tip.

You made your way over to them, trying to pretend that you weren't just having a detailed conversation about one of them. Trying to pretend that you were unfazed by the eye contact that you made with him, by the way that his button up perfectly squeezed his muscular, tattooed arms.

"How's it going gentleman, wonderful to see you all again. Win today?" you asked as you placed coasters in front of them, never bothering with a menu. They always knew what they wanted. As they informed you of their win and made a few side comments, an accented voice that had become familiar quickly spoke up.

"Hi honey, I'm sorry I don't think I got your name. I'll have a jack and coke please. And I'll buy the first round for everybody while you're at it." The way the pet name flowed so easily off his lips should've been a bigger red flag, but you couldn't help but feel your cheeks burn at the comment. "It's Y/N," you informed him as you placed the drink in front of him, trying not to act like you had been extremely flustered by his words.

"Well Y/N, I haven't been here long but I can promise you you're the most beautiful woman in Winnipeg," he charmed, causing you to blush but also roll your eyes. "Don't mind Luc, apparently French men think they can say whatever they want to innocent bar workers," Adam joked, causing the rest of the guys to laugh. You had become very familiar with Adam in the time you'd worked at the bar. He was like a brother to you, and you appreciated the way he loosened the tension because you were incredibly flustered by his words.

But above all, it was the way that despite the teasing from his new teammates, Luc never flustered, his eyes still smoldering your own, and you knew you were in for some trouble.

--------

You were packing up your apartment, two years since that day that you met Luc. You had decided to move back home. Truth be told, Winnipeg never felt like home. It helped when you were with Pierre-Luc, but the homesickness was undeniable, and following your breakup from Pierre-Luc, it only got worse. There was nothing keeping you there anymore.

Although you were ready to leave, it was hard to ignore the memories of the apartment you were packing up, both good and bad. The joy of being with Pierre and the heartbreak. The giddiness of first meeting him and the emptiness of what you assumed would be the last time you ever saw him. All of those emotions existed inside of the four walls in your apartment.

As you wrapped up picture frames in packing paper, you wondered why you still had these up. It had been 6 weeks since your breakup with Luc, but the pain felt like it happened just yesterday. Your heart constricted at the picture that was looking back at you, a picture of you in the snow. It was the first time you had been alone with him.

"We're closed," you muttered out as you heard the doorbell chime from the front of the restaurant. You were cursing yourself for not locking the front door yet, but you also wondered why people couldn't just open their eyes and read the closing times that were so clearly printed on the very door that they had just opened.

"It's okay honey, I'm not looking for a drink tonight." the accented voice behind you made you tense up immediately. You had to have been dreaming. There was simply no way that he had come back for you. You had been thinking about him for days since he had first come in with the team. You truly did have a soft spot for the Jets team, but they never came in alone. They always came in a group, and never not on their unassigned assigned day: Saturdays. It was a few weeks later, and to your knowledge, there was no one else with him. You turned towards the voice and found that your suspicions were true.

"Hello again, Pierre. Nice to see you, but we really are closed and I'm really trying to get out of here before midnight. After midnight the streets get crazy," you explained to him as you finished up sweeping from behind the bar. "Yeah, I'm sure the streets are really crazy from the inside of your locked car," Pierre joked, causing you to raise your eyebrows. You hadn't known him long, really he had no reason to be protective of you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he would not approve of the words that were about to come out of your mouth.

"Oh, I walk." you muttered as you broke eye contact in an almost embarrassment. You weren't embarrassed that you walked, it was truly impractical to drive when it was only a few blocks and the streets were always mobbed, the parking almost worse. But you knew deep down it really wasn't safe, and it was embarrassing to be under the microscope like this. You really weren't used to it. You hadn't encountered many men who cared enough about you walking home alone. "Any straight man," Anthony's voice was like the devil on your shoulder in the back of your mind.

"You what?" Pierre grumbled, his eyes lighting up in an almost anger. "There's no way you just said that." He mumbled and you nodded your head. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I did. Did you even listen?" You were growing frustrated. You barely knew this man other than what you had read on Google, what right does he have judging your life decisions? "Yes, unfortunately I did hear what you just said. I can't believe you put yourself in danger like that." You scoffed at him, wondering if this was genuine concern.

"What do you care? I'm just the girl who pours your drinks." You muttered stubbornly as you brushed past him to lock the front door, trying to get back to what you had been doing in the first place: trying to close this damn bar so you could start your apparently infamous walk home.

"I know I haven't known you for long, but I already care about you. You're more than just 'the girl who pours my drinks.' I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. That's why I came back over here in the first place, to hopefully get a chance to talk to you." He was standing his ground, and you felt yours crumbling at his tone of voice, the care in his eyes, the warmth that was somehow radiating off of his body despite it being mid February in Canada.

"I know, I have no right to come in here and judge your routine. But at least let me walk you home. I'll never come back here again if that's what you want, but I simply can not come in here to see you and then let you walk home in the dark. I can walk 6 feet behind you if you want, but I'm not letting you walk alone." He took a step closer to you, reaching out to touch your forearm and you fought the urge to jump back, his touch almost burning you.

You begrudgingly agreed and let Pierre walk you home after you finished closing the bar. The task was surprisingly short, only lengthened by the presence and words of Pierre. You walked closely to Pierre, unconsciously trying to catch some of his body heat as snow was now steadily falling from the sky. It made you miss the warmth of your home, the beating sun, the rise and fall of the waves as you walked home from work a much better scenery than this, although the beauty of the snow was hard to deny.

As you walked up to the front door of your apartment complex, you turned towards Pierre and saw him smiling goofily at you. "What's so funny?" you wondered and he shook his head. "Nothing. You just look adorable in this snow. It's obvious you aren't from here." he chuckled and lifted his phone quickly to take a picture of you, an amused look on your face.

He turned his phone to show you the photo and you smiled, immediately falling in love with the picture. It's true, it was glaringly obvious that you weren't from Winnipeg. "We don't get much snow in LA," you muttered and Pierre gave you a quizzical look. "What on earth are you doing all the way out here?" He asked and you smiled. "My college roommate is from here. I was ready for a change when I graduated so I moved back home with her. I've been here for a year now and I'm still not too sure." you admitted, being more honest with him than you had been with anyone about your living situation, which surprised you.

"I've only been here a month. I've liked it so far, but it doesn't feel like home yet." The vulnerability between the two of you was sobering, reminding you of the weather. "Well it's cold, I don't want you to freeze. I'll call you an Uber back to the bar. Thanks for walking me, truly. I appreciate your concern." You admitted and he smiled. "It's nothing, really. But one thing. Can I send you this picture? I think it's really perfect." he complimented, causing your cheeks to burn. "If you wanted my number, you could've just asked." You joked, now causing Pierre to blush. "That too," he rolled his eyes in faux annoyance.

"Goodnight, honey. I'll dream of you," he swooned, causing you to roll your eyes. "Goodnight Pierre." You hummed back. You would never admit that you dreamed of him too that night.

Tears streaming down your cheeks broke you out of your sorrowful flashback, the picture of you in the snow staring back at you. You kept it up at first to remind you that you could feel joy in Winnipeg, but as you packed it up, you realized that was obviously a failure.

You placed the picture frame in the now full box and sealed it with packing tape, grabbing a sharpie to label it clearly.

DO NOT OPEN.

-------------

That was March, and now this was September. Somedays the breakup felt like yesterday and somedays it felt like a lifetime ago. There was still an ache in your heart somedays and other days you found yourself looking at other people.

It was mid-September, but the sun was still beating down hard. You didn't miss much about Winnipeg, but somedays the sun beat down just a bit too hard and you found yourself thinking about how the four seasons were so prominent there. You closed the door to the bar you had found yourself in back in LA, feeling a sense of deja vu as you turned the lock and pulled on the handle to ensure it worked.

"I seriously hope you don't still walk home in the dark alone after work."

There was no way his voice was behind you. You had to have been imagining it. The deja vu must've been getting too real. You shook your head out and turned towards the street. But there was nothing imaginary about the figure in front of you. You had spent so much time memorizing his face, his body, his heart. You knew him like the back of your hand.

"What are you doing here?" came out before you could stop yourself, your palm coming up to cover your mouth in embarrassment. "You didn't hear the news? 8 years upcoming with the LA Kings." You found yourself laughing out loud. There was no way.

"Well that can't be a coincidence." It was true that you missed Luc, a piece of your heart missing when he left. But that's exactly what he did: broke your heart. "Of course you were in mind when I signed. You're the love of my life." He admitted and you shook your head. "It sure didn't feel that way when you broke up with me."

It was probably an unfair comment, but you didn't care in that moment. He had shattered your heart when he left. Giving you no reason other than "it's the wrong time for us."

"That's not fair. I didn't want to leave you. I didn't have a choice. I was losing myself in that city and I couldn't let you watch it happen." He admitted and you scoffed. "So was I! God, Luc. I didn't think your pride was too big to admit that you needed help. You should've known I would've supported you." You came back at him with force, causing people on the street to stare at you.

"Of course I knew. I was embarrassed. I have loved you enough for three lifetimes and I couldn't even admit to you that I was struggling." You felt your heart crack. You knew that the toxic masculinity in hockey culture was unfair. You felt for him, that he felt he couldn't come to you with that. And while he loved you enough for three lifetimes, you loved him just the same. You felt tears brimming in your eyes, once again your self control leaving you.

"I missed you, Luc. So much," you told him tearily, causing him to bring you into a tight embrace.

"This time, I'm not going anywhere. I promise." And truly, you should've had more self control. You should've had more questions, more doubts. But in front of you was the man who walked you home the second time you met in a blizzard just to make sure you were safe. The man who helped you break down your walls and stood by you while you both fell and flourished. The man who would do anything to make you smile, make you feel loved. He was yours. He always would be.

You weren't sure how the universe aligned to bring you two back together, but as you held each other on the sidewalk, swaying back and forth under the street light, you knew you would be thankful for it everyday.

#elle’s writing #nhl imagine #la kings imagine #pierre luc Dubois imagine #pierre luc Dubois x reader #la kings #the summer fic exchange 2k23

[ashfae]

A03 meme

A03 meme time, except I've been writing and posting fanfic to the internet since before A03. And before fanfiction.net. And before Geocities. And before the World Wide Web. There's fic of mine with ASCII doodle illustrations somewhere out there where the wild BBSes once roamed…I was tagged by @moveslikebucky; thanks Buckie, here goes. <3

how many works do you have on Ao3? 54. (and yes if we added in all the fanfic outside of A03 it'd be a larger number but I can't be bothered to consolidate it all)

what’s your total Ao3 word count? 341,744, which is better than I was expecting, yay.

what fandoms do you write for? At the moment it's just Good Omens, but there's been a lot of Dragon Age, some Lord of the Rings, and way back in the day there was Harry Potter and a lot of anime. I am toying with dipping my toe back in LotR, there's a thing I wrote ages ago that's entirely finished and just needs editing and I've been meaning to get it out there for ages. It's long though, so that'd be a commitment.

what are your top five fics by kudos? What Custom Strictly Divided (507) Like an Echo Far Away (415) (this one wasn't in the top five last week when I first started writing this post! So I think @mielpetite gets all the credit for boosting it with amazing fanart) What Comes From Your Hand (402) Give Me Your Illusions (346) Nightswimming (307)

do you respond to comments? Yep! Sometimes just with "Thanks!" or hearts but I try to. Though they get away from me sometimes and then I do a bunch all at once.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Definitely Warmaiden, which is my "What if Éowyn got the One Ring?" fic, from an idea that occurred to me one day and wouldn't leave. Clearly that doesn't end well for her, or anyone. From GO fandom it's probably Silent Night, which I still want to expand into a larger fic to be a set with Give Me Your Illusions. Someday, someday.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of them! But for the happiest I'd say Swan Lake Revised, cowritten with @mostlyjustgoose. And if we ever get part three up it'll be even more happy. And smutty. Very smutty.

Do you get hate on fics? Very rarely. I've been lucky there.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Oh here's the irony. I used to do a lot a lot a LOT of online roleplaying and mygod I wrote smut. So much. So. Much. I don't do as much rp these days but even so the threads I have going are still frequently pure filth. But in fic, much less so, even though I want to. Why it all gets channeled into rp and not as much into my fanfic I do not know. Honestly I want to write a lot more of it. Smut forever!!

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Sometimes, when I have a good idea. But the craziest one I ever wrote, ages ago, was a pure crackfic for my 21st birthday, where I imagined a bizarre party for myself in which LOADS of fictional characters (mostly from anime) showed up so I could make them interact in wacky ways. It was utterly ridiculous but amused me. Making all the characters voiced by Megumi "She's Everywhere!!" Hayashabara meet up and wonder why they all sound alike, for example. Also I wish I'd written an Artemis Fowl breaks into Gringotts to rob it fic before I became so disillusioned with both Artemis Fowl and Harry Potter. Heigh ho.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yep. It was impressive how lazy the person was about it too, they stole all the html as well. Someone brought it to my attention pretty quickly.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Twice, yes. Into Portuguese, as I remember.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Hi @mostlyjustgoose, I adore you, please co-write things with me forever. <3 Our baby is Unusual Strings, a reverse omens AU love story, and it's SO. CLOSE. to being done. So close. Aughhhh. I love our angel!Crowley and demon!Aziraphale so, so much.

What’s your all time favorite ship? Aziraphale and Crowley, Faramir and Éowyn, Hiccup and Astrid. Don't make me choose between those three, my head will explode.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Shut up shut up I will finish all of them ALL OF THEM I SAY…sigh. Beauty and the Battousai. Though I should probably mention A Demon in the Dreaming and The Queen Bee. (they're plotted and outlined and parts are written aaahhh come on ADHD meds help me out here)

What are your writing strengths? Dialogue, definitely. I'm good at putting humour into things. Got compared to Patricia Wrede once and honestly, life goal achieved there. I can do memorable phrases and descriptions and edit well.

What are your writing weaknesses? What is plot. Why does it hate me. Why are my original characters one-dimensional cardboard. What is worldbuilding and how do I do it without getting stalled into paralysis. Baaaah. This is why my original novel will never be finished and I keep running back to fanfic instead.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Hoo boy contentious subject! I love reading it so long as it's translated somewhere in the footnotes, I'd be happy to write it if I knew other languages, the question of whether it should be italicized or not has apparently Officially been settled by The Publishing Industry on the side of Not.

First fandom you wrote for? Oh gosh I think it was the Dragonlance books by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. The first that ever got shown to other people was Ranma 1/2 though.

Favorite fic you’ve written? It's still What Custom Strictly Divided. Though Unusual Strings comes very close.

Gaaah I'm always worried I'll tag people who don't want to be tagged so, erk, um...if they're willing, @racketghost, @indieninja92, and @holycatsandrabbits! And you, if you're reading and want to do this, please say I tagged you. I meant to really, honest. ;)

#ask meme #a03 meme #fanfic meme #yay I wrote things

[neos-schlond-poofa]

Idk your post just gave weird and judgmental vibes like of course irl we wouldn’t want someone like Miranda. she’s fictional and there are certain aspects of her that make her interesting to us. I’m all for the slander but like I need ppl to remember differences between fiction + reality and that Miranda stans are sane (I know, crazy right) and wouldn’t actively seek someone like her irl -💩 anon

Okay, so I'd just like to start this off with, I really don't mean any ill intentions towards Miranda stans. I know most of you guys are fairly normal people who just have an obsession with her.

I will admit, yeah, I am being judgmental. I do find it weird when people absolutely glamorize Miranda and her relationship with MC, and that just fuels my hate for Miranda more. She's already a bad character (in the sense of actions; she's a fairly well written character in both RL and RE universes, and I always will admit when a character I don't like is still well-written), and the fact that the fandom kind of... doesn't accept that worsens it. Like, yeah. Most are like "she's so evil BUT she's my wife too" but then continue to ignore how evil she is!! She throws pens at MC!! I'm never getting over that I'm so sorry.

But. IF YOU GET WHAT I'M SAYING LIKE. Her evilness is never acknowledged properly, it's ignored, which leads to the romanticization of her and her route. Does this make sense??

When I see Miranda stans just absolutely adoring her, it does come off weird too. You say fiction isn't reality, but to see people cherish a toxic partner in media? It does come off weird. Like. If she wasn't even related to romance too (like if Miranda x MC didn't exist), wouldn't be as much of a problem. But she is. She's literally (and sadly) destined to be with MC, and people love that, they wish they were in a relationship with her too (FICTIONALLY. I KNOW ITS NOT IRL, BUT LIKE, YOU GET WHAT I MEAN??).

Obviously, not going to get into details, but I was in a toxic relationship before with someone who is literally a Miranda. And it does come off really weird to see people be literally in love with the idea of a relationship with her. I'm much more neutral on RE Miranda; that's just silly slander, Ethan's not trying to get with her. That's just a villain. But RL Miranda is quite literally just a toxic partner. I will go into a deep-dive one day about it, and I have to be honest, I do judge some Miranda fans for the things they say about her. I get y'all won't actually seek out a relationship with her in the real world but... fiction still DOES affect reality. And her glamorization of a toxic relationship and partner is very much present in this fandom and it will add onto my slander for her. I don't mean to actively hurt the feelings of any Miranda stans with my post; it's just me being a hater towards Miranda, and I don't want my ideals to be misinterpreted. I get how the caption for my last edit does that, I will admit that. But all my hatred is really just targeted at her.

So basically, no hate meant to Miranda fans, I get fiction isn't reality but it DOES affect it (I've spoke about this before with Donna), and I get you guys don't actually want a relationship with Miranda. This is NOT intended to be an attack on Miranda stans; any negative feelings I harbor are purely towards Miranda.

Toodles, that one anon who's name I can't say because it'll shadowban my post.

#resident lover

[sparkleboi24]

I need help crafting head canons and backstories for a BSD au I'm creating

I'm working on making head canons for a normal world no mafia no Ada or whatever au. For the most part I'm trying to take canon events and adapt them in a way where they could realistically happen, but for characters with more unknown or vague pasts I'm great for any HCs

Starting with Dazai, Dazai is not an orphan he was removed from his home by CPS when he was about 2. He was in the foster care system for a while, tossed around until he ended up in a home with Mori from ages 9-16. Mori was abusive, so Dazai ran away and lived in a shipping crate for a bit. Eventually he was taken in by Oda, who was a foster parent to mostly younger kids. He was there for 6 months but when he was out with Oda, Oda was killed in a mass shooting.

I know Dazai "improved" in canon after Oda died but I didn't give him a chance for this big long speech and there wasn't any reason for Oda to anyways, so Dazai completely spiraled after that. I have like a whole story written about that. But short things is his alcohol addiction got worse, he often spent days just not moving from Oda's grave and since you see him inject himself in season 5 and pop a pill in season 2, I have him experiment with drugs like fenty, shrooms, and heroin. Not addicted, just trying them out. Dazai is my most fleshed out in the au I'm creating, idk why.

Dazai bullies Akutagawa in school because of course he does.

Now for Chuuya I haven't finished stormbringer so my HCs for him might change. But.

He was also in foster care. I haven't fully fleshed out his life yet and I want some ways to integrate the sheep some how? But he entered the system when he was 8, I don't know why because I haven't finished storrmbringer. It varies from Verlaine killing his parents to them dying in a car crash so. Working on that. Verlaine went to a different home from Chuuya, he doesn't know him well he just hates him. I've been debating between having Kouyou be his sister or foster mother, but since I put Dazai with Mori I figured Chuuya could go with Kouyou and she'd just be a younger foster mom. I was also thinking I could find a way to make them in the same house? I really want the whole betrayal thing where Dazai leaves Chuuya and I thought it could be cool where Dazai left Chuuya in an abusive home to deal with it himself but I'm not sure, would it even make sense for him to have been with Mori?

Chuuya is in college, Dazai is struggling to get by. They still have their personalities obv so Dazai isn't like this sad mopey mess he's just a sad mess who mopes when he's alone and everyone doesn't really realize where he's at mentally

Mori has also fostered Yosano and Q, while having Elise as his bio daughter.

Atsushi and Lucy's backstories are basically the exact same as they are in canon

Akutagawa is homeless ofc, he just moves from place to place with his sister. His clothes are shit and he smells because he never showers so he isn't treated well at school. I'm tryna think if he'd go to college, also he's still got his terminal illness. I'm not sure how his need for Dazai's validation would come out in this au

Ranpo was adopted by Fukuzawa. His life was also basically the same. Yosano was also adopted by him.

I'm thinking Kunikida has a normal ass life with normal ass parents, just too much of an overachiever and on the verge of burnout but not allowing himself to burn out

Poe is rich. He was born rich, he's got money, that's all. I've got for him lol.

I'm trying to find ways to add the rest of the cast, I want to get all the characters in and get them lives and stuff made up.

If you have any suggestions to how I can expand this world I want to write fan fiction on it once I've fleshed it out a bit. Feel free to be like "actually no I dont like your idea, I think this would be better" because I'm open to any criticism on this, I just want it to be good and I'm not stuck on my ideas

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd au #alternate universe #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara

[bizarre-blorbo-bracket]

FINAL: Davis (Juror 8) from Twelve Angry Men vs the Bimodal Distribution from statistics

Propaganda under the cut, and it's REALLY worth it:

Davis (Juror 8) (these are all from the single submitter)

a quick lil list babes, and I apologise for all of this in advance:

He's from the fucking film 12 angry men. like, aside from letterbox bootlickers and middle school hass students NO ONE has watched this film let alone care about it, it was made in 1957, is shot almost exclusively in one room and the entire film is just middle aged white men yelling at each other over whether some not white poor kid should be sent to the electric chair. what the fuck.

Henry Fonda, the actor, was 52 years old at the time of filming

Henry Fonda is the father of Jane Fonda, the woman who would revolutionise the 80's with her home workouts and her blindingly neon leg warmers.

His name wasn't revealed until the very end of the film and even then it's just "Davis."

I could honestly give him a lil smooch

He's absolutely not girlypop but he's the ally-iest ally who's ever allied

He's categorised as a "Benevolent Leader" on the Heroes Wiki

instead of the overwhelming urge for me to coddle him like most all other blorbos, i would appreciate it switched

I have a photo of him inside my saxophone case and sometimes i forget he's in there, then he creeps into my saxophone bell and when I play it he shoots out like a ballistic missile

Dude, on ao3 there's more fanfiction about the real life 80's British punk band The Clash than the entire film of 12 angry men, let alone Davis (80 fics come up under the clash, while 10 come up for 12 angry men)

I have a counter, and I've watched 12 Angry men a total of 145 times. The figure is up on my wall in tallies. whenever the number goes up, I like to watch it in 5's so then I can put another full group of tallies on my wall.

I have incredibly detailed stories about how Davis would boogie down to ringo starr's solo career, and they're written within the margins of a book called Tobruk written by Peter Fitzsimons. The only reason I reread that book is to wonder at my elaborate works of fiction

My HASS teacher was the one to introduce me to 12 Angry Men as he played it for the entire class. He gave us a set of questions to complete on the film and a few Law based questions as a little treat, and he expected it to be handed in the next day. What he didn't expect was an 11 page monster of a response that included social commentary, 4 paragraphs dissecting the character of Davis alone, deeply discussed comparisons between the landscapes of politics and law in the 50's to the present, and basically an entire point-for-point summarisation of the film, completed with obscure quotes from Truman, Eisenhower, Nixon and Presley (Elvis). He presented the printed masterpiece in front of the entire class to shame me.

After class he explained how his favourite Juror would either be 6 or 5, because 6 seems like a big dumb teddybear and he just liked 5. I explained how I liked Davis because he didn't want to send a kid to die, then he told me how Davis would make a good cowboy (at this point in time I was unaware of Henry Fonda's role in Once Upon A Time in The West) and I proceeded to go home and write a 3 part orchestral composition that I could pretend would play as the soundtrack to Juror 8: A Cowboy's Tale or something like that

I had started to make an animation meme starring Davis but only gave up when photoshop literally deleted itself from my laptop

I didn't even hear that Juror 8's name was Davis when I first watched it in class, somehow I only heard it on my 6th rewatch but when I did I literally got so excited I literally got winded and cried a little bit, I had to take a panadol because I got so lightheaded

I have learned the musical motif that plays throughout the film on saxophone, clarinet, recorder, guitar, bass, ukulele, piano and trumpet

I have visions of him

One of Davis' 3 children HAS to be gay and nothing can convince me otherwise

honest to god I'd be a home wrecker if it came to him

I quote not only Davis but the film a lot, and sometimes in the dead silence of all my friends I go on about how the old man couldn't have possibly made it to the door in such a short amount of time to see the kid running down the stairs (because the old man has a limp, and Davis proved it my limping around the room, which I have to say was incredibly attractive of him)

He's literally an architect

I once had a dream where Davis was in my bass guitar case when I opened it, and i literally just picked him up and started picking him like a bass guitar until I tried to play a full chord and he bit the hand that was meant to be on the fretboard. I dropped him and he fell on his ass, and when I said "what the hell dude what was that for" he said bass chords are lowkey ugly to listen to, and since then i don't like playing bass chords because now they're lowkey ugly to listen to. before this ordeal, i enjoyed them, but alas

i once got my romantic partner to write me a davis x reader fanfiction as a birthday present

my parents believe that Davis is my first celebrity crush, and while they're actually wrong it's still actually so embarrassing they believe that because OH MY GOD it's literally JUROR 8 FROM 12 ANGRY MEN

I've attempted slam poetry about him

I've eaten a paper printed full a4 size photo of his hand

I would also not mind him to be literally my father, but given the rest of the things I've just said about him that's really weird and I recognise that

the Bimodal Distribution

First of all, it's a math concept. that is already pretty bizarre of a thing to be blorbo-ifying. Second of all, I don't know any calculus, and I don't consider myself a math person (because I hate arithmetic), but I really like this guy for some reason. I mean this graph clearly holds the secrets of the universe. don't you just want to l o o k at it . like you could solve everything in the world with that boy

#davis #juror 8 #12 angry men #bimodal distribution

[cool-island-songs]

I want to talk about difficult themes in South Park fanworks. I've relied on SP fanfic during two of the most difficult periods in my life - when I was a teenager struggling with mental health problems in an extremely abusive household, and again as an adult in my 20s with debilitating health problems that have rendered me isolated and depressed.

I think there could stand to be far more understanding and compassion about how people choose to express themselves in fandom spaces, which are full of neurodivergent people, mentally ill people, people with serious trauma, and people struggling to connect with others or express themselves creatively in their offline lives.

A lot of the fics produced in the late 00s dealt with heavy themes like sexual abuse, self-harm, dysfunctional relationships, abuse, and mental illness. I relied on these fics as a teenager experiencing many of those things in my real life. Not everything I read was sophisticated or realistic because much of it was being written by other mentally ill teenagers. But it made me feel less alone, and the things that really warped me were the real life abuses I had to endure, not the fiction that I retreated into in order to be able to keep going mentally.

Returning now as an adult with real problems in my life, I can see that there exists a new social order that enables people to condemn certain subjects as unable to be explored. I understand that it's what some are used to, but personally it sickens me to see real people harassed with malice, with their creative efforts being distorted in bad faith and without nuance, in campaigns by grown adults who should know better.

No one person knows what everyone else is going through. No one person has the moral authority to decide what subjects are allowed to be explored in art, nor to determine for everyone else what was done tastefully and what wasn't. Let people explore difficult subjects. You truly cannot know what people have experienced in their lives.

Even if you hate something and don't want it to exist, it honestly bothers me how awful people's tactics are on this. Don't spread it then? Don't screenshot it to shame people? You are giving it hate clicks and if you're sitting around reading and looking at things that make you miserable all day instead of just creating and/or uplifting the things you do like, maybe consider why that is.

#stupid discourse #south park #south park fandom #south park fanfiction #you are adults #act like it

[sin-djarin]

Beginner’s Guide to Your Fanfic

Thanks for the tag @nerdieforpedro and @magpiepills

I've seen others pic five so that's what we're gonna do.

Personal Day - Marcus Pike

Looking back on this now I laugh because I wrote it in September when there was a slight chill in the air before work and I was mad about having to get up. But now that it's actually winter, this might be the one to read to warm you up. It's been on my mind a lot recently because it's freeeeezing. Mostly fluff.

in fiction - Dieter Bravo

Dieter comes to bed. This was the first Dieter piece I wrote and probably the fic I was most nervous to post but the reaction is got and gets still warms by heart so thank you! This is how I see Dieter - soft, charming chaos. Mostly fluff.

steep is the mountain - Tim Rockford

I saw a gif and my brain screamed that's Tim and then I wrote about it. And I think Tim has lived in my brain rent free since. There's a lot to be said for a character that has no more than 48 seconds of screentime. Smut and holsters.

not in rivers, but in drops - Joel Miller

Post outbreak Joel comes home to you. I wrote this back in May before I even set up a tumblr. I found it cleaning some stuff off my hard drive. Mostly fluff.

Holsters, Lies and Videotape - Tim Rockford & Javier Pena

Written for the Pickled Pena challenge. But I feel like this is one of those fics that I didn't write. The characters wrote it - all three of them. I had a lot of fun getting the words onto the doc for them though and I do want to come back to this duo at some point. I'd be lying if i told you I wasn't nervous writing for Javi for the first time with this and so maybe it's no surprise I went the "comedy" route instead. Humour and silliness.

As a surprise to absoloutely no one I'm late to a tag game and so please feel free to disregard if you've been tagged already:

@secretelephanttattoo @chronically-ghosted @i-own-loki @rhoorl @trulybetty @ladamedusoif

#joel miller #marcus pike #dieter bravo #tim rockford #pedro pascal characters

[endlessame]

higurashi ch3 tatarigoroshi thoughts

Yesterday i finally finished Higurashi's third chapter, "Curse Killing/Tatarigoroshi".

I have lots of thoughts about this chapter. So let me put them all in this post.

Obviously, spoilers ahead!

Let's begin by coming clear. I figured that Tatarigoroshi was gonna be a Satoko revolving chapter... and I wasn't super into it. Not that I dislike Satoko, obviously! But at first, it seemed to me like a chapter around her wasn't gonna be as interesting as one revolving around the Sonozakis or Rika. I was proven SO wrong SO fast.

The silly atmosphere of the beginning of this chapter was one of the best, but when we got to THIS part?

This trope is one that always gets to me. The trope of "seeing the ghost of someone in someone else" always gets me so emotional, specially in fraternal contexts. This chapter gave so much depth to Satoko's character... the whole Nii-nii part sealed the deal. I was crying.

Seeing Keiichi in a light that wasn't just "silly mc burdened with the horrors" was also really nice. His role in this whole chapter was amazing, honestly. He felt really genuine and human with his reactions.

As I said, the silliness was peak this chapter. Not really fond of the Coach though, he's a weirdo in a lot of ways that I dislike.

But enough of the silliness, because like every Higurashi chapter... those fun days had to end.

The whole deal with Satoko's uncle was devastating to read. It really drove home the point of Ryukishi's line of work, because this depiction of abuse and reaction to it is so harrowingly realistic that I, who don't really sob much with fiction, I usually just shed a tear or two quietly... was sobbing on this part. Like, a whole lot. When Satoko said that line? I couldn't hold back the tears.

Then you see Keiichi's reactions, and you're with him. Like, how are you NOT gonna be? You want to act as soon as possible, obviously... but everyone's telling that's not possible. You act, and you might screw everything up.

So when you get to Satoko's breakdown in class... it was one of the most terrifyingly real things I've ever read. Satoko's reaction to contact... it broke my heart. I was devastated for her.

Which was a great way to make me, and I'm sure that a lot of people as well, get on board with Keiichi's plan.

From here, we get a really interesting insight in Keiichi's/the killer mind. It's creepy in a way Higurashi never really showed us before, which I think it worked great. Keiichi's plan and murder scene were written in a way that made me go the whole time "something's gonna go really bad, isn't it?" Sure, Takano's apparition was bad enough as it was, but I was pretty sure she was gonna end up... well, like every other chapter.

But aside from that... everything started going badly. It was terrifying to read and imagine myself in Keiichi's shoes. A new you is going around. You killed someone, right? He's still alive. There's proof that you killed him. Yet, there he stands. You feel like you're going crazy, because you probably are, right?? But no. Satoshi's bat is gone. You really did do it.

But there's no body. You confess to someone you believed you could trust, but at the end... he doesn't believe you. You go to save the reason behind this entire murder... and she calls you a murderer. She tries to kill you.

And then, they're all gone. Just like that, a curse killing.

This chapter's ending rounded up perfectly. Everything, everything kept going up, and up... until it burst in this chapter, where no one was left alive, except for Keiichi.

And well, something I noticed... was that even now, Satoko's uncle didn't figure as dead on the credits. He's just... gone.

So now, let's jump into a fun part: theories! I'm really self-conscious of talking about theories, because I'm always afraid of messing something up badly, but whatever. I think it's better to push myself.

What happened? The difficulty of this chapter was said to be impossible, and it truly seems like it. Now, this may be the little Ushiromiya Battler inside of my mind, but I believe there has to be some human explanation to all this, right? Like... I was one of the people who, although believing in the magic of Umineko, still liked to try to unveil the mysteries. I want to fight the witch that's presenting me these challenges, so... what are my thoughts?

The most worrying part is the whole Two Keiichis Situation. At first, I believed that everyone knew that Keiichi murdered her uncle, so lied in order to protect him in case someone (Ooishi) saw the body. But then, the uncle turned out to be alive, because Satoko really didn't seem to be lying...

Could this whole thing be just... a delusion from Keiichi? The whole "murdering with a curse" thing just seems unlogical. Yet again, there's nothing impossible in Hinamizawa...

My best theory right now is that everything we see since Keiichi decides to murder until the great Hinamizawa Disaster... is in some way or form, a lie. I don't know why, but that's my biggest bet. Probably wrong, but oh well.

Also, who murdered Rika? That's another thing to be asking.

To end things, I also noticed how in the Review, they mention the next chapter to be Meakashi, and part of the Answers Arcs. Yet... the next chapter is Himatsubushi. That... really peaked my interest.

I can't wait to continue reading.

I saw a lot of people be excited watching someone reading Higurashi for the first time, so... feel free to send asks or whatever! I love to engage with people as I read. And thanks for reading this far, of course!

Let's see... what this mysterious chapter... this Final Mystery... wants me to think.

#higurashi #higurashi no naku koro ni #higurashi spoilers