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carusolikey · 1 year ago

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The Blue Hour

a Max Phillips & Bloodsucking Bastards FanFic

Chapter 2: Oh - Hi, Mark. How's Your Sex Life?

After Max took Mr. Rochester and held him hostage, he’s decided to make good on his threat - but not without playing with his food first! Teasing out his secrets, it’s a wonder we don’t keep him on a shorter leash. Oh, these wicked games, Max - if he loses, he’ll probably just put what’s owed on his tab. Although, to his credit, this rakish fellow does know there’s a time and a place to be cruel and a time to be kind. Let’s just say, in the words of Fiona Apple, he’ll let you use his skin, to bury secrets in - things are definitely going to get a little hot and heavy in here. Reader beware, you're in for graphic fare!

Pairing: Max Phillips of Bloodsucking Bastards x afab!fem!reader

Rating: Explicit / NSFW 18+ (No Minors)

Author’s Note: I wrote this piece during the month of April 2024 - Adenomyosis Awareness Month, and the idea came to me during March 2024 (Endometriosis Awareness Month). This will not have any type of pregnancy kink, but will touch on infertility of OC due to the aforementioned; canon for this story is also that Vampires are infertile - there will be no Renesmé. OC is intended to be around the same age as Max, reader’s choice up or down, but no age gap. Because older afab/fem lovers are sexy - we drink and we know things.

Warnings: This will continue to be a blanket coverage of this point forward.

A bit of rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration - P in V, oral [m + f receiving]), food play, 18+ only content, able bodied fem afab reader, alcohol consumption, non-gendered pet names, fem can be carried and has hair - though length is not mentioned, consensual "bondage", some use of y+n - but not explicitly, though consensuality is implied and intended through actions and reactions, no protection used for Vampire reasons TBD (be wise and always use protection, this is fiction). Did attempt to stay away from gendered pronouns and nicknames, although did use the word woman, 3 times throughout the entire piece (not fully published yet) referring to OC. Discussion of history of endo / adeno, and future chapter will mention previous relationship / SA; there will also be Vampire hunting, murdering, and blood….sucking bastards.

Wordcount: 13k + a few, but who's counting?

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The next evening, when I woke up, I started receiving a bunch of texts from Max. Just one right after the other. By the time I realized he had been sending them, I had 40 new texts from him.

Thirsty much? I scoffed.

And then I clicked on the text thread and gasped, covering my mouth. Oh no.

Each text was a picture of Max outside of a specific apartment with a huge grin, either with a single person or a whole family, holding Mr. Rochester and variously captioned, “Doesn’t belong to them!” - “Not these people, either!” - “This guy will take it if we can’t find the owner!”

Scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling - the Cullins family, old Mr. Feeney, little Old Mrs. White whose husband just passed away last year, the Partridge family with all of their little kids. This was a nightmare!

I mean, eventually, I will probably laugh at this, but right now I could sink into the ground. Groaning, I buried my head under the covers and practiced mindful breathing - 8 seconds in, hold for 8, breathe out for 8. Camped under the covers, I had just started to find my calm, when my phone gave off another singular glow, “Just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you. All day.” From Max.

Okay. Heart rate increasing, but in a good way. I can work with this. I sent him a non-committal gif of Kathryn Hahn in WandaVision, throwing a sassy wink, and tossing her head back in an adorable giggle. Yeah. Yeah. That’s good, I think. Or I still have things to work on in therapy? Six of one, half dozen of the other! Then I winked and tossed my head back in an adorable giggle.

These pictures of Max with Mr. Rochester and various people throughout the building continued on until the next evening, and the evening after that. To say that I was not a fan, would be an understatement. I persevered and honestly, gave some of my best narrative performances of sexual tension and duress while recording.

The author reached out to me, letting me know they were very happy with my work, and that they would be adding a male narrator for that character’s chapters. To be honest, I was a little relieved. It could be challenging to find the right pitch and timbre for masculine voices. But even more importantly, I was a bit of a wreck. I needed a break.

Would it be fair to call what Max was doing psychological torture? I wasn’t convinced that he was doing it intentionally, and my confused attraction to him technically isn’t his fault. My own hormones and body have been so out of whack since my insomnia set in, it would hardly be fair to place the enigma of my intricate chemical fluctuations on him.

Why am I thinking about this so much? You know exactly why you’re thinking about this so much - he has a name, and it’s not Max. I physically and mentally waved my thoughts away, as I poured 160º F water over two bags of Yerba Mate in one mug.

Strolling around my apartment, I spotted my shake weight, and set down my cup of tea. Perfect - now lefty can become a lean, mean, orgasm machine! I picked up the shake weight with my left hand and started shaking it - almost immediately, there was a knock at the door. Um, no one knocks on my door without an invite, I thought to myself. Peeking through the peephole, I saw Max, who gave a wave.

Weird, he must’ve just seen my shadow cross the peephole. I opened the door with my right hand, shake weight still absentmindedly shaking in my left hand.

His eyes widened and his grin pulled up to one side, revealing his dimple, “I’m not sure exactly what’s happening here, but I like it!”

Taking notice of my left hand, I realized that I was shaking the weight directly towards my mouth in a rather hilariously obscene manner which, to be fair, seems like an intentional design flaw.

Putting the weight down immediately and plastering my best customer service smile on my face, I greeted Max, “How may I help you today?”

“I like the sound of that.” he took a deep breath in, “As much as I’d like to seek your help, I’m actually here to provide,” he emphasized.

“Oh, indeed?” I stepped back as he leaned against the doorframe, getting a bit closer to me, and I put my left hand on my hip.

“Indeed.”

From behind his back, he pulled out Mr. Rochester.

“Seems this fellow has no home. Looks like you can either adopt him or send him to the pound.”

The way he said that with a sneer was downright dirty, and I gave him a look letting him know it.

“BUT –” interjecting before I could, “I was wondering what you were doing this evening.”

“Well, I did just get off the phone with the author of the series I’ve been narrating, and it seems my part is done for the time being.” I said, giving a shrug. “I’m between projects at the moment.”

“Interesting, and coincidentally perfect timing. How do you feel about going to a midnight showing of a terrible movie?”

“That’s not a particularly alluring invitation, I think I’m gonna have to hot pass that one.”

“Hot pass?”

“Yeah. Hot pass. Not a days-old hard pass that’s been left out, getting dry and crusty. A hot pass served straight from the oven, farm to table, I didn’t need to sit on that at all, it’s ready when you are, made to order, HOT PASS.”

“When you say it that way, how could one resist?”

“And yet, that’s what a hot pass in essence is - I’m resisting, Max. Hot. Pass.”

“I promise you, it’s a cult classic! The theater serves booze, there will definitely not be any children there - if you don’t have fun, I’ll owe you.”

My ears pricked up. Owing. Interesting. Sounds like I can’t lose. I raised my eyebrows in deliberation. What do I do now? Cold Take? No, that’s not the opposite of a Hot Pass - I’ll have to work that out later.

“I accept!” I grabbed my spring jacket, my little purse wallet, and my keys.

“Excellent,” in his excitement, Max gave me a kiss on the cheek as I passed by him on the way out of my apartment, causing me to blush and turn around suddenly, walking directly back into him. He was a wall of a man, and as I started to fall backwards, he caught hold of me by the waist, steadying me.

“I would love to not be the reason for another personal injury to you,” he said, chuckling.

Startled by the sudden upheaval of being swept up into his arms upon impact, I found myself resting my right arm on his left, and gripping his tie tightly in my left hand. He appeared undisturbed, and I noticed that he’d dressed up in another three-piece suit, for this spontaneous date? His silver-gray button-up struggled at the seams under his muscles, yet appeared to move fluidly with him. It was certainly a well tailored suit, I thought as my jaw slackened, eyes moving to the muscles tensing in his neck as he pursed his lips, preparing to speak.

“We’ve got a movie to get to.” His eyes moved from my face, down to his tie and he smirked as he looked at my hand, clutching desperately at him. Raising his eyebrow, he said, “Save that for later, Sweetness.”

I let go immediately - and he let go slowly, gently.

“Oh my god,” I shook my head, and led the way to the elevators, realizing as I passed the hall mirror that I was significantly underdressed compared to Max.

Wearing my favorite classic baby tee with a pic of Jake Ryan from 16 Candles on it that says, “I ❤️ Jake Ryan”, a monochromatic gray striped peasant skirt, and some white leather Doc creeper loafers, I asked him, “Before we go - do I need to change? I just threw this on, and did not give a second’s thought to just leaving with you immediately as is. I kind of feel like an asshole, because you’re –” I gestured to his sharp ensemble.

He shrugged, “I think you look great –” pausing to look me over completely, his eyebrow going up slightly as his mouth opened slightly, letting his tongue stick out.

“But I would never tell you what to do.” Recovering somewhat quickly, he gave me a wink before hitting the down button.

I tried asking more questions about the movie on the way down, but Max would not budge, verbally. Physically, he managed to get closer and closer to me, intoxicating me with his pheromones yet again. It was a short walk to the dingy theater, where the midnight showing was of a movie called, The Room, which I’d thought was a movie starring Brie Larsen, but Max assured me - was not, in this instance.

The acting was terrible. The story was confusing, and maybe a bit upsetting, the sets were certainly a choice. It was absolutely hilarious, I spent most of the movie laughing out of pure surprise and delight at the absurdity. I could feel Max looking over at me in the dark, and smiling every time I laughed, pleased that I was enjoying myself.

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As we exited the movie, Max squeezed my hand and asked, “So, what did you think? Are you owed anything for this jaunt?”

“Well. I will admit, Max, true to your word - there were no children present.” I gave him a sneaky little smile, as he gave me a surprised look, “BUT - but, I will also say that I did really have a lot of fun. The movie was absolutely ridiculous, and I’m sure I’ll be quoting it for years to come.”

“Oh, HIIIIII, Doggy!” Max said to me, leaning in.

“Oh, HAI MARK,” I quoted back to him, as he kissed me on the cheek, igniting a new bloom of blush on my neck and cheeks.

“You know there’s more that I want to show you?” My face mimicked a question mark, “Ah, yes! Keep that look of wonderment, for in the basement of this theater,” I scowled at that, and he continued a little slower and calmly, “is a museum, called the Museum of Bad Art.”

“Hmm? What’s that?” I was confused, but intrigued.

“All around this area are different satellite locations of the Museum of Bad Art, and one of them is located here. It’s really terrible art that they’ve collected from local art shows, from Good Will, the Salvation Army, estate sales, just from anywhere they can find it, and it’s stunning in its horrificness.”

Giving him a determined look, I declared, “Bring it on.”

Giving me back an equal amount of sass, Max proclaimed, “Oh, it’s already been broughten.”

Once we got down to the basement, it was hard to know where to go first, there was just so much.

Luckily, we came across an easy one - something that could almost have been done by one of the masters, but - maybe not.

“Max, tell me your thoughts on this painting.”

Max stood very still, his arms crossed, and then started nodding slowly, “Yes, I like this one a lot. Cat with overflowing cornucopia, overflowing with lush fruits, I really like how the artist uses the light to highlight –”

With his intense gesturing and the pause, I took the opportunity to help him out, “To highlight how the cat’s face is too small to be his face? To be the face that goes with that head?”

“Hmmm,” He groaned appreciatively, and then pointed at the painting, “I think that’s it. And I love it.”

We came to the next painting, an old woman in a blue dress in a field of flowers, and Max asked, “What feeling, or sense of ennui are you deriving from this work?”

“Well, Max, my general sense of ‘ennui,’ as it were, and I’d like to thank you for using that word,” he tipped an imaginary hat and did a little bow, mouthing the words ‘you’re so welcome’, “is a little bit confused, because while it appears this older woman is skipping through this field of flowers, she doesn’t appear to be happy about it. She’s got a very placid face, but not in a good way.”

“Hmm, yes. I see that. I find the bright yellow sky to be particularly upsetting. What’s going on back there?”

“Maybe she set something on fire, and she’s doing a crazed skip away from it?”

“I think Grandma’s not cooking pot pie for Grandpa anymore.”

We both hemmed and shook our heads over that tragedy. Poor Grandpa!

The next painting we came to was titled, Sad Monkeys and Woman, but they also had the title in French, which sounded even better, Singes Tristes et Femme. Sadly, the painter was anonymous, and no credit could be given where credit was due.

“Shall we break this down?” Max asked with tempered enthusiasm, making sure that I had a hold of his arm.

“If we shan’t, I’ll be terribly disappointed.” I leaned in to whisper - matching his intensity.

He nodded, “Excellent. Ladies first.” He gestured towards the painting.

“Well, I don’t understand the need for all of the broccoli florets, but if we can look past that, it seems that the monkeys are sad, and the lady is in a circus tent - but why are the monkeys sad, and why is the woman inside the tent without the monkeys?”

Sighing, furrowing his brow, Max gave it a moment and then replied, “I think it’s a medical circus tent. They’re waiting for test results, and it’s probably not going to be good news.”

A lightbulb went off in my head, “OR, what if, like the saying, ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys’ they just got their 23 and Me results back and it’s her circus –”

“But not her monkeys?” Max finished my thought, and we turned to each other and both said, “SAD MONKEYS!” and then made fake sad faces at each other.

We passed by a particularly disturbing painting of Joan Crawford, and I gasped, “Oh, Joan! What have they done to you?”

“Derivative.” Was Max’s passing response.

Kismet, it seems, brought us to a final portrait that appeared to depict none other than Molly Ringwald herself.

“What would you say is happening here?” I asked Max, gesturing towards the painting.

“I’d say that Molly Ringwald is battling a little cherub baby angel over one shoulder, and some sort of Mrs. Doubtfire inspired crone over the other shoulder.”

“Aha - the recurring duality of good versus evil, and of course, humanity represented by - Samantha, from 16 Candles?”

“Naturally.” Max nodded, “Who better? Although, I wonder if you would call it coincidence or serendipity that you’re wearing a 16 Candles shirt and we’re happening upon art with the very same subject matter?” We started to walk out of the museum and the theater, heading back towards the apartment complex.

Passing him an eye roll, “Coincidence, definitely. Although, I didn’t take you as someone who would consider anything serendipitous,” I looked at him curiously.

He shrugged, giving a snarky look back at me, but also kissed my hand, “I take what life hands me. Sometimes more.” He smirked and gave a chuckle, “Whatever happens, happens, sometimes - I think life has a way of surprising you. But listen - do you really love Jake Ryan?”

I burst out laughing, “What?! He’s a fictional character, and from a movie that has not aged well, at that.”

“Why do you have that shirt then?”

“I mean –” I shook my head a little, “it’s the persistent idea of Jake Ryan. Sitting cross legged, kissing over a flaming birthday cake? Yes, please. But, also - the one. The one who doesn’t forget your birthday, who sees you in a sea of others, who treats you like you matter - the fantasy of being someone to another person. To have passion that is reciprocated. Jake Ryan is a state of mind.”

By that point, we’d reached the entrance of the apartment building. Max paused, taking in what I’d just said.

“I’m sorry - that was a lot, and again, it’s just that over-romanticized ideal. You know, imprinted teenage crush.” I’d started apologizing, taking Max’s silence as a sign that I’d said too much, been too much.

“Hey, hey,” He shook his head and started rubbing my shoulders, “No, it’s a really nice idea. 80’s movies affecting the romantic interests of people over the years, how they react, behave, that’s absolutely valid. How it affected you personally? I mean - I’m happy to hear all about that.”

“Okay,” I smiled, “What about you? Was there any movie that stuck with you over the years of idealized 80s romance?”

Max paused, thinking for a moment, “Say Anything - I thought I could be Lloyd Dobler,” I frowned, “I know, I know. He’s a little, stalky. But he looked so cool holding up that stereo, playing Peter Gabriel. I needed to be him. Or, my younger self needed to be him.”

I nodded, smiling and encouraging him to open up more, but a cold chill ran through me as the temperature dropped, and I involuntarily shivered in my light jacket. Noticing, Max wrapped his arms around me.

“Let’s get you inside.”

We made our way up to the 4th floor on the elevator, and Max walked me to my door. “Thank you so much for tonight, Max.”

“Um, we’re not done.” His features hardened, and he gave me a stern look.

Taken aback, I responded, “I’m sorry?”

“We’re not done - or do you not remember that I brought back the ‘lost device’ tonight?” his hardened features smoothed into something playful, yet foreboding.

“We’re going to figure out what it does.”

My stomach sank, and so did my vagina - both feeling like they had just gone down a really high hill on a rollercoaster. To be honest, I couldn’t decide if I was horrified or excited.

This evening with Max had been exactly what I needed and wanted. We vibed so well with each other, and he made me feel so comfortable being myself, even when he was walking around looking like he did in that suit. I bit my lip a little too hard while thinking about it, and winced, as I tried to think about how I was going to come clean about Mr. Rochester. But what about - ? No. Not tonight. Fuck off ‘what ifs’ and ‘what abouts’. I deserve this. I was resolved.

“Very well,” I said nonchalantly as I put my key in the door lock - Max stood close behind me, putting both hands on my hips, he leaned his head down and sniffed my neck, while the hairs on my body all stood up. For a brief moment, I froze there with my eyes closed, feeling the strength of his hands on my pelvic bones. Until he took one hand off me, and pushed the door open in front of me.

Shaken out of my fog, I walked forward into the apartment, dropping off my keys, wallet, and jacket near the front door. I turned around, and asked if I could get him anything to drink.

“Just you,” he grinned ferociously, and bit his lip.

I unintentionally laughed nervously, “Okay - I’m assuming you don’t need a glass with that?”

He chuckled and shook his head. Picking up Mr. Rochester, he handed it to me, “Are you ready to get to work?”

The way he said it was commanding, strict, the type of question that deserved the exact answer I gave, “Sir, yes sir.”

When he heard that, he stood up a little taller, a little straighter, his pants leaned a little bit more to the left, as he took off his jacket, unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves, keeping his tie and vest on, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

As I held Mr. Rochester in one hand, Max reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. I pouted a little, confused as to why he would need to check his phone right now.

“You said that this might be a bluetooth compatible microphone for recording things on TikTok, so I paired it with my phone.” Oh no. My face dropped. “Oh yes, yes I did. Let’s see if it works. Why don’t you sing into it for me?”

“What should I sing?”

“You can sing whatever you like.”

I felt Mr. Rochester start to buzz lightly, and I had a terrible, wonderful idea for which song to sing, but I knew that if I did it, there would be no turning back.

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Picking up my phone, I connected to my speakers, flicked on Joan as Police Woman’s cover of Whatever You Like and started singing into Mr. Rochester.

“Stacks on deck, Patrón on ice. We can pop bottles all night. Baby, you can have whatever you like. I said you could have whatever you like,” Max’s mouth dropped into an open grin, mesmerized as I moved my body to the music. He turned Mr. Rochester up, as I dragged it down my body, “Late night sex, so wet, you’re so tight. I’ll gas up the jet for you tonight. Baby, you could go wherever you like. I said, you could go wherever you like.”

But then I bent my right elbow and yelped, holding it in pain. Fuck. Did this have to happen right now? I can play through it, yeah. I’ll just play through it. I lamented that I might not be able to have the necessary grip for all the things I’d been wanting to grip all night long. I opened my eyes, and Max’s crotch was in my face, definitely available, but he immediately bent down on the floor next to me.

“I’m going to fix this for you.”

He lifted his hand to his mouth, and with much larger incisors than I remember seeing (have I not been doing a good job of paying attention to him ?), he bit into his finger, and then removed my bandage. Taking his bloody finger, he rubbed it all over my bruised and slowly healing elbow. As he rubbed his finger over it, the bruise started to fade, the scars began to disappear, and in a matter of moments the whole area looked as though I had never injured it. I took a closer look at it, then bent my elbow up and down, back and forth, and it was completely fine.

I looked up at Max, completely baffled. “What just happened? What did you do?”

“I could make you forget that you ever fell and hurt yourself but, I’m not going to risk the brain scramblies. I want you to know the truth.”

“Good, I’d love to be privy to the inner workings of your life.”

He chuckled, “It’s a little bit more complicated than that,” he bared vampire fangs at me, and I scooted back, “Oh! No, no. I’m not going to hurt you,” his face looked so sad, as he reached his hand out, palm open towards me. “It’s basically a medical condition - extreme iron deficiency and sun allergy.”

I mean, I was definitely familiar with medical conditions - I was living a version of vampirism already, in constant darkness. Taking a beat, I decided to hear him out and nodded for him to continue, taking his hand.

“It happened on a business trip to Staten Island, I was hanging out with some clients at a club, showing them the area –”

“Staten Island? Really?” I interrupted.

“Yeah, you’d be surprised,” He seemed a bit squeamish about it, which was a first, “Anyway… this extremely crusty looking, yet very stately, oddly attractive fella - sounded like he was from an older European country, super weird, wearing a New Jersey Devil’s hat. Well, he interrupted our drinks with clients and turned me, out of nowhere. Afterwards, I never received any guidance for my unholy transition, I just had to figure it out on my own.”

“Oh my goodness.”

I clutched his hand tighter, searching his face for a signal, trying to figure out what he needed from me. He seemed so down, and he had done so much for me, so I decided to give back to him by opening up and being honest with him.

“Max?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to open up to you as well, and in the spirit of honesty, I have a confession.”

His face immediately perked up as he prepared to hear what I had to say to him.

“I know what that device is that I was singing into,” he bit his lip and raised his eyebrows, in what we’ll all pretend was surprise. “It’s Mr. Rochester.”

Then he actually was bewildered, and furrowed his brow when asking, “Mr. Rochester?? Like Jane Eyre? Charlotte Brontë? Wife locked in the attic?”

“One and the same,” I said sincerely, “He’s my vibrator, but you should know, it’s a friends with benefits situation, it’s not serious.”

“WELL! I mean,” he seemed exasperated, yet continued quite calmly, “I’m really glad you opened up to me. I like the honesty. Would you ever want to have a threesome with Mr. Rochester and of course, myself?”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, “How very Eyes Wide Shut of you! Yes, I think that would be something to pencil in. We’ll just have to check Mr. Rochester’s schedule, he’s very, very busy.”

Max gave me moon eyes, “Of course. And if you need someone to step in and fulfill your needs while Mr. Rochester is unavailable, I’m more than happy to - but I also have one more confession.”

“Another one?” I asked, shocked that there could be anything more than “vampire”?

Nodding his head, he began, “Because I am a vampire, I have some extra features. I can hear very, very well. I can see temperature differences in the human body, I can smell things that people can’t smell.” No idea where he’s going with this. But nodding encouragingly anyway. “When I first moved here, and when I first became a vampire - I heard you every night. You’re the only person in the whole building who has consistently had insomnia for the past 20 months, 1 week, and 2 days.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling a little woozy.

Max took my hand in his, rubbing his fingers in and out of mine slowly.

“I heard you when you cried on and off for those first couple months - which really annoyed me at the time. I heard you quietly humming around your apartment. When you started leaving your apartment to do laundry again and started singing in the laundry room, I fell in love with your voice. When you started narrating books, I’ll be honest, not all of them were good, but you - you are a good narrator, and your voice calms my heart and sets my soul at peace. I heard you on the phone with your mom, with your friends, I learned so many things about you - how you write poetry in the middle of the night and just practice reciting it out loud, to keep yourself from losing your own voice. I had to meet you, I had to know if I was going crazy about you just because you were alone in my head every night, or just because I was actually going mad.”

As I breathed in and out slowly, counting my 8’s, holding my 8’s, Max continued, “I think this is real, and I hope that you’ll give me time, and get to know me at your own pace.”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I looked around the room, I thought about everything I had been through these past, nearly two years, and looked at the man, the vampire, presenting himself before me. I thought about the whirlwind of this past week. Normally, I would call this a huge red flag - love bombing, et al. - but he didn’t say that he loved me. He also told me to take my time. This is different, it seems like he wants to take time to see if it’s real for himself, too. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. What am I doing?

I bent my right elbow, which felt fantastic, as I traced my thumb back and forth across my bottom lip, and Max watched me with a concerned look on his face. Picking up Mr. Rochester, I decided to say how I really and truly felt.

“Max, I think that in order for me to communicate what I need, I’m going to have to finish what we started.”

His eyebrows furrowed, confusion and unease marring his face, I hit play on my phone, and continued singing.

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“I want your body, I need your body,” standing up, pulling him up by his tie, “Long as you got me, you won’t need nobody.”

Using his tie like a leash, I gave him a tight little yank, leading him into my bedroom. Holding onto his tie-leash, I gave him a little push, encouraging him to sit on the edge of the foot of the bed. I slipped out of my peasant skirt and shoes, keeping my t-shirt, lingerie, and knee socks on. Sitting on his lap, facing him, I started to unbutton his vest as he put his hands on my hips, gripping me, rocking me against his burgeoning erection. I bit my lip, trying not to moan, but instead focusing on the task at hand which was incredibly difficult - especially while feeling his dick rubbing up against my vagina and clit through layers of fabric. Oh, that smell of him - leather, whisky, pine maybe? Something musky, I can’t - Resting my head against his shoulder, I pushed off his vest and started unbuttoning his shirt.

I loosened his tie, but only enough to get to the button at his collar. OH! He hit me with a deep, rough lunge against my lingerie, and my thighs quivered, anticipating the eventual thrust, the deep, violent rut into me that would scratch this itch, raging at my core. Pulling his collar out from under his tie, I tugged his entire shirt off, so that only his beautiful chest remained, with a neat little tie, perfect for keeping him right where I wanted him.

Pulling on the tie, I smirked, “Oh, Hiiii, Doggy.”

Max looked up at me, adoringly, and moved one of his hands up my back, pushing me right up against him, so that he could grab my mouth with his. Working his other hand up, while continuing to roll his hips into mine, he pulled my shirt up over my head. We took a break from kissing, and Max let his fangs out, biting into the fabric at the front of my bra, ripping it open easily and baring my breasts to him.

“Max,” I pouted, “That was expensive.”

He looked up at me, a devilish grin on his face, “I’ll buy you a new one.” Then proceeded to lick around my nipple, squeezing my other breast, jutting up into me, and rubbing the middle finger of his other hand up and down my spine, while I held onto his tie-leash. How he managed to hit my clitoris through the pants, I have no idea, but it created the perfect amount of friction in so many different delicious places, until finally, I gave a hard yank on the leash.

“We need to get all the way on the bed, because I need to be on top of you,” He looked up from the nipple he was sucking on, and replied, “Whatever I can do for you, Sweetness.”

He climbed back on the bed, then yanked me up with him, on top of him. I laughed, but only because I felt like I was going to explode if I didn’t get him inside of me soon. I kissed him, and he kissed me - he held on to me, and kept kissing me, his hands all over - sliding my lingerie down my thighs, and I had to pull away, “Max, no - I’m primed, I’m ready. I love kissing you, but I. Am. Ready.”

Raising his eyebrow, he licked his lips and grinned, “Don’t let me stop you. You’re a woman on a mission.”

I dragged my nails down his chest, around his nipples, giving gentle kisses along the way. When I got to his pants, I unbuckled his belt, popped open the button, and unzipped the zipper, my body shaking with impatience. Max lifted his hips, helping me to pull his pants and his black boxer briefs down, past his sumptuous, mouthwatering cock. I sat up, and blew into my hands to make sure they were warm - then licked the palms. Holding his dick just beneath the head with one hand, I slowly licked the underside, from the bottom of the shaft, to just under the head, giving it a little special attention, and then slowly, dipping my mouth over him, over his cock, up and down, slowing moving my hand up and down as Max started to groan. I kept going, keeping myself steady, going as far as I could, until he touched my hand.

“Sweetness? I want to fuck up your pussy with my cum. I want to wreck you - can we?”

Of course I was amenable to that proposition. He took my hand, like a princess, and led me forward so that I was hovering over his dick, letting it rub against me. While I continued doing that, he leaned all the way forward and started playing with my tits again, squeezing my ass, ravishing my body, so that I didn’t know where the pleasure was coming from. As he dipped the head of his penis into my vagina just slightly, teasing me, I finally - slowly, firmly, sat�� on his dick, and we both let out a loud groan together.

Every time I rolled my hips, my chest rolled, too, and we kept rubbing against each other in all of the right ways. Taking one hand from my hip, he started making circles with his thumb along my clitoris, and I started to feel the building coil, the tension, his dick throbbing as I clenched onto him. My vagina pulsing and squeezing as his dick kept pumping into me, and my clitoris, sparking and popping into a full abdomen orgasm. His warmth, his cum running down his cock and trickling along the edges of my vagina. I took my finger, and swiped at the puddle, licking it off my finger while Max stared at me in awe.

“Fuck, Sweetness. I could watch that all day.” I leaned into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me. “Please rank your customer satisfaction level with 1 being the lowest and 5 being the highest on your touch tone phone.”

“Um, hello? I’d like to lodge a complaint - I’ve been having sex with humans when I could’ve been having sex with vampires this entire time. Super Massive Blackhole Fuck Up.”

Max chuckled, “Your response has been accepted and will be processed between 10 - 15 business days.”

“What?! Why so long?!” I exclaimed as I pulled back slightly.

“Bureaucracy, obviously. A lot of paperwork to fill out. In fact, I should probably get started.”

Max started to lift me up off his lap and I whimpered in disappointment. His rich chuckle tumbled out of his chest, “Or we could just sit here, counting the seconds since our last successful orgasm.”

Smiling as he rubbed my back and gave me a kiss on the forehead, on the cheek - then abruptly, his mood changed. His eyebrows furrowed, and suddenly he was very serious.

“We didn’t use any protection.”

I looked down, playing with his tie, “I know.”

“I want you to know that, one of the benefits of being a vampire is that we’re not susceptible to STIs. It’s not a thing in the vampire world, we can’t catch them, we can’t be carriers…”

“That’s fine.” I interrupted him, “I kinda assumed after you told me that you were a vampire, that we’d have sex, then you’d completely exsanguinate me, or make me your familiar. And then I wouldn't have any free will after that. I considered this that one thing that I needed to do if I were to –”

Max’s face fell, his right hand stopped drawing circles on my back, and he used it to lift my chin so that I was looking him straight in the eye.

“Never.”

He gave me a soft kiss on the lips. “For as long as the sun sets and the moon rises.” Kissing both of my eyelids, he pulled me into his chest.

“I have control. Not like the first night I turned, but that’s another story. Now, it’s - nothing.”

“So it’s not like Twilight when Edward made a stank face when Bella walked into her science class?”

Max started guffawing.

“No! No, no no. Being around people, it’s like being at the supermarket - you don’t want to go when you’re hungry, otherwise you’re going to end up putting way more in your shopping cart than you need. And if someone is bleeding, it’s like being around someone cooking bacon or baking brownies, or whatever your personal weakness is when it comes to food. You can resist, but DAMN if it doesn’t smell good!”

I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, “Okay, I was not expecting that at all,” Max laughed lightly, “Twilight, True Blood, Dracula, those are my entire basis of vampire knowledge. So - no worries of STIs, that’s great!”

As I finished what I was saying, Max stiffened, “I think there’s another thing you should probably know –” he paused, as though he wasn’t sure how to approach it.

Leaning back, I looked at him as he explored my face, clenching his jaw before starting, “Some people might see this as a bonus, although others may feel that it is a dealbreaker.”

I looked back at him, attempting to keep my face as supportive as possible, albeit I was somewhat nervous where he was going.

“Vampires cannot get humans pregnant - or other vampires, for that matter. The water turns to wine as soon as you turn. Which is probably for the best.”

Max bit his lip, raising his eyebrow in a questioning manner, “Is this a dealbreaker?”

My heart rattled around my rib cage, glowing as it warmed towards him, my appreciation for his candor and consideration, his openness and frankly bravery in being able to admit so many scary, risky things to me tonight. It was certainly a lot to take in, a lot to process.

“Well,” I started, “Between you not being able to have children and you being a vampire, I would say that being a vampire would probably be more of a dealbreaker than the extremely normal issue of male infertility, right?”

Pausing, I gave him a wink.

Apparently he was holding his breath, because he let it out in a whoosh as he nervously giggled to himself.

“That being said,” I continued, as he focused on my lips, “I actually can’t have children either, so - I’m glad you brought this up. And I’m really glad that we won’t be having a weird vampire-human baby hybrid à la Twilight.”

“Wait. You can’t have children?” Max asked, as I shrunk a little into myself, “DUMPED!”

And he swung me off his lap, onto the bed, where he stood over me. His chest slowly going up and down, the tie dangling over it, and his pants which were open just enough for our earlier sex acts, providing the full monty of his cock rising with another generous erection.

Sitting up on my elbows, I raised an eyebrow, “I’m not sure that I love that my inability to produce offspring, followed up by a subsequent dumping, which by the way - didn’t know we were officially a thing yet - is giving you such a massive erection. Don’t - love - it.”

I cocked my head to the side, after Max gave me a particularly charming grin, and eyed the precum starting to bead at the head of his massively beautiful dick.

“Oh, we were definitely a thing,” he said, reaching behind him to grab something - but what was he grabbing? No. Oh no. When did he have time to bring that into the room? “But it’s over now. Sorry. Perhaps it’s my turn to sing for you? Express my broken heart at your treachery and deceit?”

Setting up a song on his phone, the music started as Mr. Rochester started on a low buzz.

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Immediately I recognized Wicked Games by Chris Isaak, as Max slowly climbed the bed near my feet, singing into Mr. Rochester, “The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you. Strange what desire, makes foolish people do.”

As he got closer to my thighs, he took Mr. Rochester, and gently applied him to the inside of my left knee, just along the side, moving slowly up, “No, I-i-i-i - don’t wanna fall in love. No, I-i-i-i - don’t wanna fall in love, with you.”

He looked me straight in the eyes as he increased the vibration, taking Mr. Rochester, and placing him in the lower center of my abdomen, about 3 fingers width above my clit. I scrunched up my nose at him in disapproval, although I was simultaneously feeling quite frazzled.

“What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.” He quickly swiped Mr. Rochester straight up and around my belly button, then over to the right side of my abdomen. “What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.”

The buzzing, set to medium, was not too light that it tickled, but was just enough to set my senses ablaze. Up again he went, circling my right breast very delicately in concentrically smaller circles until he was focused on just the nipple, as I leaned back, curling my toes and clenching the sheets in my hands. Max moved in closer, hovering above me as he circled my left breast, my nipple, dipping his head into the crook of my neck. He started kissing, licking, and nibbling along my collarbone, moving up towards my chin, in the meanwhile, drawing Mr. Rochester down my body until he was right on my clitoris.

Gasping from the combined pleasures, I reached my arm around his neck, pulling myself up so that I could kiss him right in the little dip below his Adam's apple. Using my tongue, I gently massaged the divet in between generous kisses, inhaling large breaths of his virile, woodsy, spiced scent. With my other hand, I lightly ran my fingers up and down the length of his dick, stopping just below the head along the frenulum, tenderly swirling my finger in very soft, small circles.

“Oh fuck.” Max whispered loudly, putting his forehead against mine. “I’m gonna pull you up further onto the bed, okay?” he said through haphazard breaths, tossing Mr. Rochester aside.

I nodded as he reached underneath me, moving me closer to the top of the bed, and putting a pillow underneath my head. He glanced down at me, giving me a big smile, “And now I’m going to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.”

Smiling back at him, he immediately put his lips to mine, pulling me into a full, luscious kiss that just kept going. His body against mine, our skin touching - melting into each other, moving together up and down, he used one hand to line himself up with my vagina. Edging into me, inch by glorious inch with each wave of our undulating bodies. Once fully inside me, he pulled back like a slow coil and then snapped back into me, and did it again, and again, and again. I put my hand above my head to brace myself against the headboard, and Max brought his hand up, grasping onto mine like he couldn’t bear to have any piece of me not engaged in making love to him.

He continued to thrust into me - the repeated, wet friction of the head of his cock on my g spot, the feeling of his shaft filling me up - hard and thick. Pulsing subtly as he clenched his muscles to continue driving into me, I started to feel the pull, the spasm, taking the bite of apple from the tree of knowledge with the snake at my feet. The intensity of which only increased as I opened my eyes, looking up at Max as he looked back down at me, with his sincere, enthusiastic half smile and adorable dimple. He slowed as he felt my vagina contract around him, and moved his penis in and out in deep circles. Until I could feel his rigorous and steady ejaculation into me, warming me from the inside out.

Giving me sweet little kisses along the line of my jaw as he remained inside me, giving my chin a little bite, he leaned onto one elbow and reached down, swiping at our cum at the base of his cock. Bringing his finger to his mouth, he licked it off, mimicking what I’d done earlier.

“Fuck, Sweetness. I could watch that all day.” I teased, parroting what he’d said to me earlier.

Max raised an eyebrow and leaned in, giving me a full, deep kiss, letting me taste our combined flavors. Everybody is different, but for some reason it reminded me of pineapple upside down cake, or rum raisin ice cream, with a slight saltiness, and I felt dizzy from all of the attention and care he was giving me. Or perhaps it was simply dehydration?

I looked over at my bedside table, where I’d left a glass of water just out of reach and Max, attentive beyond my expectations, reached over and handed it to me. Taking the glass out of his hand left it free to wander, and wander it did. He took his hand, trailing his index finger down my throat. Upon reaching my clavicles he splayed his hand and slowly drew his whole hand down my chest, resting his hand between my breasts and leaving it there. He moved over to my side, propping his head up on his other hand.

As he moved to my side, naturally, his penis came out of me. His dick was big, but realistically, it was not that long and that was for the best. Gasping theatrically, he took his hand off my chest and said, “Oh no!” Then scooted closer to me and draped his dick over my hip, making me laugh at his desire to use his cock to keep a claim on me.

Max started tracing imaginary shapes on my abdomen. Until he furrowed his brow and traced what, to most people, would look like a frowny face between my hips, my pubic bone, and my belly button.

“These scars - this is why you can’t have kids?” he asked.

I took a deep breath and sighed, “Yeah. I mean, it’s a little more complicated than that, but it’s the visual and physical evidence remaining of what happened that caused it.”

“May I ask what happened?”

I bit the inside of my mouth, then reached over towards my bedside table that was just out of reach, to put the glass of water back. Without trying, Max took the glass of water out of my hand and easily put the glass back on the table for me.

Without thinking too much, I turned on the clinical side of my brain.

“I have a disease called endometriosis,” I’ve repeated this so many times, for so many people that I don’t even have to think about it anymore, “it’s where tissue similar to, but not, the uterine lining grows outside of the uterus. In a way, it’s like cancer, in that tissue is growing where it shouldn’t - however, it absolutely does not metastasize the same way at all, so it cannot be qualified as a cancer. The tissue that grows is triggered by estrogen, so it’s aggravated by menstrual cycles, but the pain it causes is not limited to menstrual cycles. As it grows, it creates painful adhesions which are almost magnetic in drawing organs together, getting organs stuck together to the point that a person’s abdomen can be 'frozen' in place - organs are really supposed to be free floating, mobile, not stuck together.”

I took a moment to breathe before digging back in.

“That gets really painful. It can affect fertility in many different ways, and is responsible for about 50% of infertility cases. A lot of people who have endo often find success with pregnancy after having a surgery known as 'excision' surgery. Not to be confused with 'ablation' surgery.” Going on to describe the difference between the two, “Excision pulls the disease out by the root, ablation just burns the disease off at the surface - it’s basically like cutting the lawn versus pulling the weeds. You wanna pull the weeds.”

I paused. I knew I’d said a lot, and took a look at Max to see how he was faring.

His brows were knitted together, concerned, but he was paying attention. “So, you had one of the - excision - surgeries? Your fertility should’ve been better right?”

Tilting my head slightly, I continued, “Ehhh, well. I had 3 surgeries, well 2 - “ Max frowned, “My first surgery was with a doctor who was a gynecological surgeon, but not an endo specialist. So they opened me up, panicked when they realized how much was happening, drained an endometrioma in my ovary, and then sewed me back up. Then I had an excision surgery with 2 well known endometriosis specialists who diagnosed me with stage 4 disease, and based on visual confirmation only, adenomyosis.”

“Adenomy–? But they got all of the endometriosis?”

“They did their best. They got rid of everything that they were able to see, but I lost my gallbladder and my appendix to the disease and adhesions. However, they did save my left kidney, so I was psyched about that,” I gave Max two thumbs up. “And adenomyosis is when endometriosis grows in between the layers of uterine lining. It can either be focal or diffuse. If it’s focal, that means that it’s like a little ball or cyst that they can remove, although it’s very tricky to do because the uterus is basically a giant muscle filled with blood vessels. The muscles have two jobs: squeeze to shed lining, and close off blood vessels so that you don’t bleed your own blood. When there’s something like adenomyosis or fibroids interrupting the muscles, they can’t always properly close off the blood vessels.”

“And you bleed your own blood?”

“Yes, and it always makes me think of that line from the movie Dodgeball, ‘Nobody makes me bleed my own blood - nobody!’ You know what I’m talking about - Ben Stiller says it?”

Max chuckled, “Yeah, I know it. ‘If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball’! But continue, please.”

“Yar. So. It’s a lot harder to remove disease from inside the lining of the uterus. There’s a procedure called the Osada Procedure, developed by –” I paused for dramatic effect, “Dr. Osada, from Japan. But it’s pretty wild. They actually…” I stopped and looked at him, “This next part is a little graphic, but from a scientific standpoint, it’s also very interesting. Are you sure you want me to continue?”

He pretended like he really had to think about it, hemming in various different ways for a good minute, “Ummmm…ahhhhhh, hmmmmm, wellllllllllll.” And then he smiled at me and reached for my hand, “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Well, they basically do a c-section, and lift your uterus out so that they can peel back the outer layer and remove the disease from the inner layer.”

His eyes grew wide and his smile turned to repulsion, “Whaaaaaaaat??? Really?? That’s - I don’t know that I like that.”

“Only 5 doctors in the world are capable of performing it, so it wasn’t actually an option for me. Well, 4 doctors now, one retired.”

“So what is the treatment if not that?”

“Birth control, aka hormone modifying medication. I had to have an IUD inserted AND take a progesterone-only birth control at the same time daily, in order to keep myself from bleeding through.”

“Progesterone-only because estrogen made the endometriosis angry?”

“Exactly.”

“You said ‘had’ though. You’re not doing that anymore?”

“Uh, no. So there are other options, like presacral neurectomy, which involves severing the nerves between the uterus and the presacral plexus, the bundle of nerves that sends pain signals from the uterus to the brain.”

Max’s face turned to one of unhappy disgust, with an exaggerated frown and I laughed, “I know, that doesn’t sound great. Some people have a lot of luck with it, which means they get to keep their uterus, try for kids, but sometimes the connection grows back, sometimes the wrong nerve gets severed and people experience tingling and paralysis, lack of feeling, the surgery is somewhere between 52% - 75% effective amongst patients - but again, there aren’t a lot of doctors who are qualified to perform that surgery.”

“Is that the surgery you got for your third surgery?” Max asked, looking concerned.

I shook my head, “No. I actually started having pain again about 7 months after my second surgery - the first surgery with the specialists - despite physical and pelvic floor therapy, and my endo specialist told me that it was possible, with all of the endo I had, that I had more disease. That it would be worth it to have another surgery.”

“So you did that.”

“Yeah. And, because there were some concerning things happening regarding national / local access to my hormone medication –”

Max interjected, “The birth control? With the Supreme Court and local laws?”

I nodded and he frowned, “Exactly. I wasn’t sure that I was going to have access to the medication that allowed me to stand up straight, and kept me from suffering significant anemia. After talking with my doctor, I decided to go ahead and have an Anti-Müllerian Hormone blood test done to see what my ovarian reserve was. It was super easy - they just drew my blood, and then I found out how fertile I was.”

“Judging by those beautiful hips…” a smug smile stretched across Max’s face.

Rolling my eyes at him, I forged ahead with good natured sarcasm, “Yep. That’s how that works. Science solved!”

He gave me a kiss on the cheek, chuckling.

“Normal AMH levels are about 1.5 - 4.0 ng/l and anything below 1.0 is considered low, but above 0.5-0.8, is still viable for fertility treatments. Mine came in at 0.05 ng/l.”

Taking a moment, Max gulped, absentmindedly starting to brush a strand of hair out of my face and behind my ear, then continued to trace along my jaw until he reached my chin, placing his thumb on my bottom lip, affectionately brushing his finger over it, his eyes focused on both of my lips.

“I think I know where this is going - but I want to hear it from you.”

Pursing my lips, I carried on - still fairly objective in my tone and phrasing.

“It didn’t make sense to try to hold on to an organ that wasn’t serving me and wouldn’t serve me, I’m not super young - and especially as someone who was not in a relationship or had any idea when or if I would be partaking in another one. Much less so in this climate. I’m not going to hold off for some ‘maybe’ person,” looking at him, “sorry,” he shrugged, and shook his head, unbothered, “-- to decide for me in the here and now, while I was currently in a lot of pain; when I could go ahead and make the choice for myself to get both surgeries done at the same time. And after doing the research, I decided on a total hysterectomy plus a salpingectomy - it’s one of the three options available. There’s hysterectomy classic - just the uterus; total hysterectomy - uterus plus cervix; radical hysterectomy - uterus, cervix, ovaries. I kept my ovaries so that I could maintain my hormone levels on my own, but I got a salpingectomy, aka got my fallopian tubes removed, so that I didn’t have a risk of an ectopic pregnancy, which oddly, is still a possibility despite having a hysterectomy. Wild, eh?”

Max gave me a horrified look, “WHAT? Jesus.” He shook his head. “So –” his hand hovered over my midsection, “how is this all feeling now? How long ago did this happen?”

Scrunching up my face, I responded, “About 20 months, 1 week, and 4 days ago - I had to stay in the hospital for 1.5 days.” Then I grinned and said in a British accent, “I’m getting betteh!”

Letting out an amused cackle, Max did his own Monty Python impersonation, “You’re not dead yet?”

Keeping my face in a dramatically large, frozen faced smile, eyebrows raised, I just shook my head and raised my shoulders in a shrug.

Max cackled even louder, and wrapped me up in his arms, giving me aggressively sweet little kisses, while I giggled at his relentless ardor.

Stopping abruptly, he inquired again, “Seriously, though - you seemed okay during sex, both times,” he flashed his eyebrows and smirked, as he gave me a quick look up and down, then got serious again, “but I didn’t hurt you at all, did I?”

“Oh, no - not at all. They found more stage 4 disease during my third surgery and removed that, and everything healed up quite nicely. No complications. And if anything, my hormones may be a bit out of whack - I’ve had a hard time obviously, with insomnia, and there was a period of time where I really, really didn’t feel like myself at all. But now that I’m off not one but TWO forms of birth control, which is a LOT, let’s be honest - I feel like I’m outside of a cloud that I’d been living in.”

Max nodded while he listened, “If anything I’m more present, I think. And my sex drive is a lot higher, sex is –'' I looked into his eyes, wishing I could convey to him just exactly what being with him meant, “actually pleasurable. It doesn’t hurt. Occasionally, the ghost of endo haunts me, and that leaves me a little sore. But if I’m going to be sore from anything, I want it to be from an intense sex session with you.”

“It haunts you?”

“There’s no official cure for it, and when it takes a really long time for a diagnosis, the disease can develop its own nerve endings, which can leave many patients with residual nerve issues, like fibromyalgia or other types of neuralgia.”

“Did you write a book on this or are you also a part time doctor?”

I laughed, “Ah, no. A lot of patients have to push to get diagnosed, and that usually involves becoming very educated in the various aspects of endo. I have spent a good portion of my free time helping other patients advocate for themselves - the whole system is problematic in a lot of ways.” I sighed.

“I have one final question for you,” Max led into his query, “The kids ‘thing’. How are you feeling about having to give that up?”

Giving out an exasperated huff, I launched into my response, “First - I have a lot of thoughts. I had a lot of thoughts. I always thought that I would have kids, but no matter what relationship I was in, it never seemed like a good time. Not just because of where we were planning-wise, but because I had other stuff I wanted to do instead. And I know that sounds selfish - I like kids, I do - it’s just, I didn’t want them around all the time.”

Max laughed at me, or with me, it was hard to tell, “But I did want the choice. I wanted it to be mine, and mine alone, not because of something that couldn’t be helped, not a government, not anyone else but me. And when I was setting up the surgery and had to coordinate with the insurance company, do you know what the insurance agent said to me?” Max shrugged and shook his head. “We’ll have to confirm with your doctor, to make sure that you’re not trying to get out of having kids.”

Max’s face took on a steely glare, his nostrils flared as he breathed out, and he accidentally bared his fangs.

“I know. I was furious. I didn’t realize having children was a requirement for my gender. But I spent the next 20 minutes educating that insurance rep on my reproductive system, and then they admitted that they knew people with similar issues and had some issues themselves, so it’s - whatever.” I threw my hands in the air.

Looking away from me, Max clenched his jaw - he seemed to be trying to get his fangs to retract. I could tell that what I said upset him, and I reached my hand up to his chin, turning his face back towards mine. He took my hand, and brought it down to his heart, holding it there in place as he leaned his forehead against mine. After a minute of slowing his breathing, he pulled my hand back up to his face and kissed it. Drawing back, fangs no longer on display, he studied my face - letting his rich, hot coffee eyes dissolve me.

“I hate that you went through that - and I feel like an asshole for being annoyed at you because I had to listen to you cry in the middle of the night when I first transformed.” Shaking my head, I opened my mouth to speak, but Max pushed on, “I am an asshole. It’s what I do best. And I suspect that sometimes it turns you on.”

He had me there, and I tried not to look directly at him. “I am trying, though,” giving me one of his deliciously charming smiles and a wink, he pulled me closer, and nuzzled my neck.

“You know what?” Max began, a teasing, smug look on his face as he pulled back, “All that you’ve been through - that’s all very impressive. And I want you to know that I’m here for you. Because I know exactly what you’ve been through.”

“Oh, really?”

“Absolutely.” He lifted his leg, showing off a small, white scar, about 3 inches long. “I was chased by a dog when I was 8 years old, and fell on some glass.”

Mockingly, but with sincere gusto, I gasped, “Oh no!” Touching the scar on his leg, “This is horrific. I hope you sued that dog. And that piece of glass.”

Max dramatically and emotionally sniffed back fake tears, “Thank you. We sued them into oblivion for everything they were worth. It was very traumatic.”

“And how much was everything they were worth?” I inquired.

“A bag of puppy chow and the rest of the broken bottle.”

“Sounds like you came out on top. Somebody didn’t have to pay for college!”

Max burst out laughing, “That’s right, I went into college admissions with puppy chow and a broken bottle and said, ‘This should cover one 4-year bachelor degree, right?’ and they absolutely said yes. And now I work in sales.” He shrugged, still chuckling.

“Wait - so you’re a vampire, and you still work? That didn't stop once you transitioned?”

“Ah, yeah. I still have bills, although I do get some kick back when I –” he mimed biting into someone’s neck, sucking their blood, and then tossing their corpse over his shoulder.

“Kick back?”

“Yeah, I take their wallets and drain their bank accounts. They’re not using it anymore.” All of a sudden his face jumped into a look of surprise, and he looked like a little kid who got his hand caught in the cookie jar.

Gasping in feigned surprise, I declared, “What?! Not my Max! Not my sweet Max? He would never steal from dead people!”

His face moved into an awkwardly wide stretched grin, and his eyes shifted back and forth, “Ummmm - honesty is important to you, right?” I nodded. “More important than if I was a thieving thiever who stole from helpless dead people who were at one point alive before I drained their blood?”

Earnestly, I nodded.

“Well, yes. I may take a collection up from the corpses, but I always ask first. ‘Hey, Mr. Dead Guy, do you want to donate to my personal cause?’ and then,” he mimed moving a skull’s jaw with one hand, and spoke in a slightly higher voice, “they say, ‘Why yes, Mr. Phillips, this sounds like a great cause, I’d love to donate to it. Take my bank card and drain all of the funds, please and thank you.’ Isn’t that so nice of them?” He looked at me with his mouth wide open in a giant, cartoonish smile.

“Ohmygod, soooo nice.” I batted my eyelashes at him, while talking like a Valley Girl from the OG Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

“Sooo nice. They love it.” He leaned in to kiss me, his voluminous lips toying with my own, his tongue peeking into my mouth. I found myself feeling dizzy again, but this time I knew it was because we had just spent about ten minutes kissing without stopping to breathe, as Max moved with me, as though he were part of me.

Scooting me a bit closer to him, he wrapped his right arm around me, allowing me to rest my head just under his chin. With his left hand, he took my right hand, kissing each of my fingers one by one before asking, “Is that clock right?” referring to a clock I had hanging on the wall across from the bed.

“Yep.” I yawned.

Looking down at me, “Hmm. Well, it looks like I may have successfully tired you out.” I let out a snort. “And, I actually have to get ready for work.” He sighed.

“But you were up all night,” I complained.

Max took my hand and pointed at himself, “Uh, vampire - I think we established that.” Then chuckling, he kissed my hand again, placing it on his chest. “It’s only 8-9 hours. 10 hours if someone’s being a dipshit and doesn’t get their reports done.”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay, Max.”

“I was trying to psych myself up, Sweetness.”

“Ewwww. Gross.”

“What’s that? Not enough? Tone it up?”

I shook my head, giggling.

He sat up and pulled me with him, gently nibbling at my throat, “You’re good enough to eat, and I swear to god, that pussy’s gonna be on the menu tonight.”

Then, as he started to get off the bed, he tugged me off the bed with him carefully, by the wrists. As we stood there, naked and facing each other, Max maintained his hold on my wrists directly in front of his chest. Standing up straight, his strong, broad shoulders rolled back, he surveyed my body without ever moving his head. I stared right back at him, defiant, though my nipples betrayed me as they perked up under his calculating gaze.

“I want you to dress me.” Max said in a calm, firm voice.

I frowned at him.

He cracked a crooked grin, then leaned in close to whisper in my ear, “Please.”

Licking just under my earlobe, he gave it a bite and wrapped his lips around the lobe, right before giving me a kiss on the cheek.

How could I possibly resist that? I bit my lip, “Well, when you ask so nicely –”

“Manners maketh man, so they say.”

Max winked and let go of my wrists. I started to grab my own clothes, and he reached out to grab my wrist again.

“Ah-ah. Just me, Sweetness.”

It’s one thing to have someone attempt to control you and every little thing you do. It’s quite another when you know that someone is asking you to do something because they want to spend more time with you, because they want to see more of you, because they enjoy YOU.

I tossed my clothes behind me, and reached down for Max’s black boxer briefs, kneeling before him so that he could step into them, as he balanced by putting his left hand on my right shoulder. Then I began gliding the shorts up his muscular calves, his strong thighs, gradually standing up - until I reached around to pull them up over his ass, pressing my body against his. He groaned as I took my hands and ran them the length of the elastic band towards the front of his body, where his dick hung out the front, or rather, was beginning to experience a raising of spirits. Carefully, but firmly, I grasped his cock, and Max let out a pleased whimper, closing his eyes, and then immediately opening them.

“No –” he said breathlessly, “Not yet. I have to get going. But I love where your head's at.”

He smirked at me, reaching around to grab me by the ass while simultaneously pressing me up against him, leaning down to give me a kiss on the lips. As he released his grip, I went ahead and tucked his erection upwards facing in his boxer briefs, which kinda, sorta worked.

He put his hands on his hips and said, “Fashion, baby,” clicking his tongue and winking at me.

Picking up his pants, I got back down on my knees so that he could step into them. He put his left hand on my right shoulder again to balance himself and said, “Sweetness, I don’t have a kink for Stepford Wives, but the way you’re taking care of me is so fucking hot.”

I made eye contact with his dick as I stood, looking up at him, and he chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’m counting on it,” I told him as I turned around to find where his shirt and vest went.

Under his breath he muttered, “You can always count on me.”

“What?” I asked as I turned around.

He shook his head, looking like a deer caught in headlights, but tried to play it off casually, “Nothing. Were you, uh - you were saying something?”

I pursed my lips in an amused smile, shaking my head, “No, I guess my hearing isn’t what it used to be.”

“I mean, you’re not a vampire.” he said, shrugging and looking slightly suspicious.

“Or, I’m just very tired, and - imagining things.”

As I made my excuses, Max seemed a bit relieved that I wasn’t pushing him to admit that he said anything. Although, I wasn’t sure that I was ready to hear him. At least, not ready to exchange words at that level of commitment, not so soon. I’m not in a rush, and he’s a vampire - he actually has forever. Man can wait.

Walking over, I tried to smooth over his crumpled shirt before holding out an arm for him to reach into, then walking behind his broad back, to slide the other sleeve on. Returning to my spot in front of him, Max put his hands on my hips as I started buttoning him up from the bottom to the top, making sure to keep his tie tossed over his shoulder. Once his shirt was all set, I tucked his tie over his collar, and folded his collar back down over it, adjusting the knot so that the tie had a slightly more tidy fit. I tucked his shirt into his pants by reaching my arms around him like I was giving him a bear hug, making my way around to the front the same way I’d done with his boxer briefs. My hands smoothing him over around his waist, until I got to the front and took one final opportunity to trail my fingers gently over his erection. He sighed again, closing his eyes, and I gave him a kiss on the cheek. Over his shirt, I helped him put on his vest, assisting him again with his buttons.

“You look so good.” I said as I stood back, admiring my work, and quite frankly just the beautiful human - oh, I mean vampire, that he is.

“So do you.” He said as his tongue stuck out a bit from his mouth, his eyes trailing my body.

I rolled my eyes, laughing lightly, “I’ll go find your jacket from the other room - your shoes and socks are here somewhere, so I’ll let you finish that part.”

As I walked out into the living room, nabbing Max’s jacket from the couch, I stopped to look out the window. Dark velvet night threatened to break with blue early morning twilight along the edges of the horizon, and I shuddered.

What happens to Max in the sunlight? I crossed my arms, feeling goosebumps rising on my skin, feeling - what? Fear for him? Worry? Caring? It’s been awhile since I’ve done this. I hoped that I could pace myself.

Without realizing that he’d come out of the bedroom, I found myself in his arms again after he walked up behind me, gently wrapping himself around me. Leaning his head on my shoulder, he gave me a nuzzle and a peck on my cheek.

“Walk me to the door?”

I laughed, “Like this?” He gave me the cutest, sweetest face of pleading. “Fine.”

So we walked to the door together, and as Max walked out he turned around to face me, leaning in the door frame. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

Just then, my elderly neighbor from across the hall, Mr. Vilallonga opened his door to grab a package that was sitting outside. Max took his arm from the door frame as he turned around to see what was happening behind him, and Mr. Vilallonga caught a full glimpse of my naked body. I gasped, immediately covering my body with my hands, just as Mr. Vilallonga looked up, dropped his package on the floor, and started apologizing profusely.

As soon as Max realized what was happening, he stepped in between us to block Mr. Vilallonga’s view.

Holding back a wheezing laugh and apologizing to me repeatedly, “I will make this up to you, I’m so sorry - never again, okay? Never again. Your body is sacred to me - it’s not for this fucking guy,” he frantically whispered, pointing with his thumb behind him.

Fuming! I fumed at him. Meanwhile, his features had softened so much, I could tell that he was very, very sorry that this had happened. But it was gonna take a minute for me to recover. I also might’ve prematurely killed Mr. Vilallonga, who had slammed his door shut, and whom I could also still hear yelling apologies through his door.

“Leave.” I told Max.

He gave me sad puppy eyes and nodded, then immediately switched to a giant smile, mouthing the words, ‘I’ll call you,’ while he held an imaginary telephone to his ear, followed by promptly pushing me back into my apartment and closing the door.

Alone, I went into the bathroom and started the shower using my right hand to turn the faucet on. I paused, remembering that it was less than 12 hours ago that I had a bandage on my elbow and struggled to bend that arm. And now? Bending my arm every which way, it was perfect. Maybe better than before. Was that even real?

Scrolling through my phone, I selected some music at random for shower time ambience and atmosphere.

youtube

As the beat kicked in, so did Miley Cyrus’ husky voice as I stepped into the shower. Shampooing my hair, I sang along, “I was born to run, I don’t belong to anyone, oh-no. I don’t need to be loved by you.” Rinsing out my hair, applying conditioner and using the loofah, I kept singing, ‘See his hands ‘round my waist, thought you never be replaced, baby. Ooh, you know it’s true.”

Flashing back, I remembered how many times Max put his hands on my body, reverently touching my flesh, making me feel incredibly sexy and simultaneously safe with him. I thought about the one who came before, the one who even now, had been holding me back. But not anymore. “That I was born to run, I don’t belong to anyone, oh-no. I don’t need to be loved by you.”

Exiting the bathroom, I slipped into a pair of silk shorts and a silk tank, grabbed my notebook and sat on my bed. Being with Max had been exhilarating, but my feelings were starting to get a bit intense for me. I decided to temper them by writing them out in a type of poem I’d learned way back in college - a freeform, stream of consciousness style. It felt better than journaling because I always ended up giving up on journals about 3 or 4 entries in. But with a ��poetry” journal, I could say that I was being creative and artsy without any judgment from anyone else. There was absolutely zero pressure. I could let my thoughts flow, and in the end, they would be prettier than anything I would’ve written in a regular journal. At least that’s what it felt like for me.

Opening up my journal, I felt the dam break and I was off - scribbling exactly how I felt, on an extreme spectrum, allowing myself to engage in these feelings was a huge release.

Make me yours. Mark me with your kisses, claim me with your voice. Tell the world they’re making a mistake when the hands they lay upon me attempt to take away my choice. Keep me with your quiet eyes, let yourself enjoy the image of my body, the visage of my body, it’s for your eyes only, that I disrobe. Mold me with your gentle hands, sculpt and shape me with your touch, until I am no longer the shadow of who I was, but the silhouette of who I will become. Not because you demanded it, not because I let it go, but because when we’re together, our love and sacrifices create something bigger than they could ever know.

A little silly, and it definitely turned out to be a love poem. I read it aloud to hear how it would sound, and I didn’t mind it. But it’s definitely not getting published anytime soon, and I giggled at the prospect.

Well now that’s out of my system – I put my notebook on my nightstand, and turned off my bedside lamp. As I slept, I had fitful, sexy dreams about Max, and woke up craving him.

To be continued...

Check out the Easter Eggs for this chapter here.

Continue to Chapter 3

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#Pedro Pascal is a sexy vampire!#Max Phillips x afab!fem!reader #Bloodsucking Bastards FanFiction #Not Twilight #HOT PASS - Renesmé!#Endometriosis Awareness #Adenomyosis Awareness #Youtube

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a-weirdo-works · 25 days ago

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@pale-opal @antfed-blog @imafraidofdogs @bruggle I’m back, y’all.

“Ugh…”.

Speed Lacewing was disoriented, looking up at the wooden ceiling.

She barely remembered how she got here. All she remembered was being surrounded by greenery, as well as her own desperation…and what else…?

“Well, good morning. Or, afternoon, I should say.”.

She turned to the woman next to her.

“Where are my manners? My name is Pearl. I’m a nurse for the Rose Thorns. You are currently on our ship. I take it you’re another defector from Repliforce?”.

“Huh? I-I guess-yeah.” Lacewing stammered, slowly sitting up.

Her wings were immensely tired from flying all night.

Fear filled her chest again, still wondering how she’s be treated for deserting the mission…especially after what she found out just a few days ago…

“I just got back from the Kagikira forest…my unit was stationed there…” she told the nurse.

“Interesting. Need anything? Energy can? Water? Tea?”.

“Nah…well, okay, maybe an energy can.”.

“Alright.”; the nurse got up; she wore a white armor dress that looked similar to that of the Reploid nurses she had frequent encounters with, but with a more rustic, vintage pirate feel.

She normally hated being cooped up, but it was better than feeling like she was being hunted down.

The nurse came back with an e-can.

“Need anything else?”.

“Nah.”.

She eventually left the lacewing Reploid there.

BAM, BAM, BAM!

Pearl came quickly stepping to the door.

She opened it.

“Hello, Necrobat. Did you get hurt again?”.

Lacewing moved a bit; she saw a looming, purple bat Reploid in a black jacket, which had a similar pirate-esque vibe that the nurse’s armor dress donned.

“Hey, yeah, uh, no! But-squeak!-I need to talk to her. Apparently, my girlfriend knows her!”.

“Oh, really? Well, I can’t just let you in here. Maybe bring her here?”.

“Alright, what’s goin’ on?”; Speed couldn’t stand it any longer.

She walked over to the door-.

SLAM!

Pearl was thrown against the wall as the other Reploid flew towards the lacewing one.

“Alright, so based off of the news coverage, we still have some time to go before the war officially ends.” Blade Axolotl calculated; he was no longer covered in bandages. His ability, after all, was for wounds he had to be closed or any amputated limbs to be replaced, though it required material repletion often.

“Storm Owl’s already been dealt with. Mind Rat told us that Storm Owl was about to off himself.” Dash retorted, his arms crossed and a foot under the railing.

“Maybe not sit there.” He told the Axolotl Reploid.

“I’ll be fine, I can swim. I was bui-“.

“You’re still recovering from internal bullet wounds.”.

“Yeah, no-“.

BAM!

The door leading to the lower decks was smashed wide open.

Everyone saw a bug reploid-like a dragonfly or some form of moth-dash out and look behind her.

And behind her was a furious Dark Necrobat.

“GET BACK HERE! Squeak-squeak!”.

“NECROBAT!”.

Zero ran over to him, but he was already airborne, chasing the other reploid.

“For the love of everything that still stands after all this, she has to control her stupid boyfriend-Sharp!”; he immediately ran into the lower decks, but occasionally winced in pain.

“What’s going on!?” Marty exclaimed.

Pearl came rushing out as well.

“Dark Necrobat just barged in and started going after her!”.

“Who?”.

“The defector we just picked up!”; Pearl panted. “Said she was an acquaintance of Porcupine.”.

“Hm…”.

Blade Axolotl and all the other engineers followed suit.

“Oh, his is my fault!” The porcupine reploid said.

Blade Axolotl’a gills perked up as he remembered.

“I put trackers in everyone! I’ll ask Radio Mosquito to be your guide!”; and with that, Blade ran to the lower decks.

Sharp Porcupine went inside as well and took off her frilly lab coat and came rushing back with the jet pack she had built a few weeks ago.

“Alright, I’m getting Mosquito online!”.

Bee-beep!

“Alright, which one is this-ah! Porcupine! Our favorite scientist!-“.

“Hey!”.

“Sorry, Blade. One of our favorite scientists! Anywho, the question we’re all asking: why is-“.

“Sorry, sir!”; she activated the jet pack.

“Alright. Locating her boyfriend…”.

Sharp was already in the air.

“Okay. So, they’re turning, obviously. Keep going forward. Does he have his cellular device on?”.

“I can contact him!”.

“Okie dokie! Actually, I’ll bring him into the line.”.

There was some more beeping.

“WHAT!?”.

“Top of the afternoon, Necro. And-“.

“What are you doing!?”; Sharp’s loud voice caused Mosquito to wince.

“Sorry!”.

“Itsfinehappensallthetime.”.

“Sorry, love. Just getting this disgusting pile of scrap for you~.” Necrobat spoke.

“Pile of scrap-sugar, what are you on about?”.

“You told me Lacewing made fun of you asked you out as a joke! How dare she!?”.

“Sugar, that was a long time ago! Sure, it hurt-a-and it still hurts-“.

“Not exactly helping, Porcupine.” Radio Mosquiot spoke nervously.

“Shut up!”; Mosquito yelped in surprise as Dark Necrobat boomed into the speakers.

“Babe, it ain’t worth it! Just bring her back!”.

“No! I have a responsibility! Anyone who hurts you must be punished!”.

“Champ, let’s talk this out. Sure, making fun of somebody and asking them out as a joke-“.

“Hey, I didn’t ask for your import-phew, this girl is fast-.”.

“Dark Necrobat!” His girlfriend exclaimed.

“Fine!”.

If the silhouettes in the distance weren’t a big enough sign, a bubble surrounded said silhouettes, turning the colors inside out.

Necrobat’s silhouette swooped up the lacewing reploid. He sped over as the colors reverted, but he seemed to be struggling.

Lacewing was thrown onto the deck; the pirates had to hold her back together.

X and Marty, as well as Dark Necrobat, stood above her.

“Alright…has this been resolved?” X inquired, his arms crossed; he was still shaken up from the battle with Jet Stingray and his army, as well as saving Kaia.

“Wh-what are you-…”; Lacewing looked at Sharp Porcupine.

She looked…tired and disappointed.

“Wait…”; she said up.

And asked the bat Reploid…

“You’re dating Sharp Porcupine?”.

“Yes…”; he kneeled to her level.

“And you…”; he inhaled. “have a lot of explaining to do.” He panted.

“Is-is-what are you-“.

“Stop playing dumb!”.

“Enough!” Marty yelled.

“Sharp, Necro, our office! Now!”.

The couple obeyed, following the couple nervously.

“What did you do?”; Lacewing looked up; it was the eyepatched Reploid that picked her up!

“I…I don’t know…”; but deep down, she knew she would probably be owing the engineer a ton of apologies.

#megaman x #mmx #Speed Lacewing #A’S OCS #Sharp Porcupine #dark necrobat #sharpbat #Blade Axolotl #Dash #harry #x #marty #xmarty (implied)#radio mosquito #A WRITES #Pearl

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the-bearer-of-bad-ideas · 11 months ago

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do u have any ocs 👉👈 a moot of mine asked and now i wanna know if u have one!!!!!

THANK YOU FOR ASKING I HAVE SEVERAL

okok so the main ones areeeee probably broanch (and all the other characters in sywpq by extension) and donovan but ive got some others

donovan doesn't have much lore but shes pretty much just 15 year old art kid who likes bunnies and drawing anime gore she makes those stickman fight animations in her free time and probably is somewhat scene now that i think about it??? that girl is blasting millionaires in the back of the classroom loud enough for everyone to hear lmao

i had a dream where i was having a panic attack in class and she calmed me down and gave me her hat and was very niceys so i made her real because she was nice lol

donovan is also not her real name but she thinks her real name is stupid so she doesnt go by it and she took the name off a book or something

^^ she

and then i put the sywpq stuff under the cut cus its long lol

ok so SYWPQ

first off I CANT FIND MY GOOD DRAWINGS OF THEM :((((( BUT HERES THEIR GENERAL DESIGNS

fair warning i wrote most of the lore when i was like 11 so its a bit stupid but eh

broanch is this girl from an alien race (called steyaes) that split off of humans a really long time ago and has kind of just been hopping planets ever since

the patch of galaxy they ended up in was very barren of resources so this species kinda spent a lot of time just floating around in the void in a sorta hibernation like state or hopping between asteroids and small planets, whatever they could find, and using the limited resources before jumping off to look for another

theres also a thing that like. evolved?? or something??? in thats essentially jsut magic they have magic powers. imagine like a video game stamina bar that empties as the character uses it to manifest objects and attacks and yeah thats pretty much it (it takes a lot of energy to use so it's not used often for anything more major than like. controlling small objects, manifesting clouds {saoirse does that a lot}, electrical shocks, etc, but it can be used for larger things like combat)

(broanch's power stuff is more suited to combat while saoirse's and juneau's are more for controlling water and air)

she had a shitty childhood, parental neglect n all that, and spent a lot of time playing by herself and with this pair of sisters she befriended (saoirse and juneau), and pretending that she was in charge of various different things and this eventually manifested into her really wanting to host some type of tv show

when she was around 16 she ran off cus. shitty home life. and since steyaes are one of the relatively stronger human-adjacent species she ended up taking up various jobs bounty hunting or going off looking for rabid animals that were causing issues so she can kill them or whatever

she kinda just went around doing whatever for a couple years until eventually

one day she and saoirse were on this random planet they found that didnt really have much going for it but they were just kinda talking doing whatever, when humans found it

at this point in the universe humans do know theres other civilizations out there and have talked to them but they all kinda tend to keep to themselves so the humans on the ship are a lil surprised to find someone here

since this planet is otherwise entirely empty theyre like "ok cool this is ours" but broanch basically just goes "nuh uh i was here first" and starts fighting with nasa cus this planet is HERS actually ueah totally uh huh

....and then i dont exactly remember what happens at this part cus again i made most of this when i was 11. but. basically they dont really resolve the fight but because its happening there's loads of tv coverage and broanch is immediately like "WOW IM ON TV :DDDD" and decides that now is when she should finally bring her tv show host dreams to fruition

since she's only known for being on this planet she decides to use it as the prize for her new gameshow and then also decides (purely to piss off nasa) that the show is going to be run as a club at a random highschool cus why not lmao

the show is called "So Ya Want Planet Q?" and the contestants are all 16-18 year old students at a highschool in bumfuck nowhere america

she did not tell them going into this that is was a gameshow and advertised the club as an "afterschool hangout thing"

episodes are recorded live through saoirse running around with a camera and the show functions similar to something like total drama or bfdi (i made this entire thing in the trenches of my bfb hyperfixation lmfao) except instead of elimination by vote theres a point system, and the games change pretty much every episode, ranging from fairly normal stuff like trivia to a literal bomb defusing thing at one point

broanch is the main host and does all the talking and saoirse is the cohost and helps set up challenges and man cameras, and acts as the voice of reason to broanch's stupidity

saoirse's spent more time on earth and knows more about social norms and culture and shit so she's also the "resident human expert" because broanch has no fucking idea what shes doing

saoirse and juneau im still working on fleshing out but theyre pretty much just. normal. idk

saoirse's the cohost obviously and while juneau does help with the show occasionally she generally thinks its a bad idea so doesn't very often

i have a few other misc characters but those are the two i draw the most :D ive got another thingie called like plantii or somethign but again that was mostly made when i was 11 and also all the lore is on my laptop profile that im still locked out of :(( ill find it eventually though

#long post #sorry for rambling i am very. rambly JADHSDFKJHSDF #you opened up the floodgates a lil sorry lol #also i dont think ive fully written out the sywpq lore so i wanted to do that #i couldnt find any good drawings that were colored cus i barely color my stuff so youll have to use some imagination there qwq #ask #berry.post #i love yapping tysm for asking #edit: WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY FORMATTING #donovan tag #sywpq #<-someone remind me to go back and retag everything that goes under that

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adultswim2021 · 2 years ago

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Assy McGee #20: “Squirrels” | July 07, 2008 - 12:30AM | S02E14

Assy ends tonight. In this one, Assy breaks up an underground Squirrel Fighting Ring after getting over his intense fear of squirrels. He in fact conquers his fears to such an extent that the climax of the episode (and the series, as it turns out) is him squaring off with a giant, genetically modified squirrel.

On the way we get a hunting trip where Assy browbeats Sanchez into drinking duck piss, a shirtless chief, covered in tats, and a few things that actually made me laugh a little. Assy somberly telling Sanchez “I love killing birds,” the dumb exchange between Sanchez and the Chief after Sanchez sees a framed photo of him playing Twister with Gerald Ford: (Sanchez: “Is that you with President Ford?” Chief: “Yeah, that’s me!”), the part where Assy is so spooked at the sight of the squirrel carcasses in the flophouse that his buttcheeks begin quivering. It probably doesn’t sound incredible, but there’s more than usual to like in this episode.

I did not watch Assy McGee season two at all when it premiered (I think; if I contradicted something I already said, go with the other thing). In 2008, I was probably still a touch adverse to comedy involving squirrels. There was a rotating list of nouns that whenever I heard them used in supposed-to-be-funny dialogue or visuals it would set me off. I called them “stock absurdities”, and they’d force me to sit on my hands and scowl in response. I probably arrogantly dressed down many children who were simply trying to have a fun time online.

Now that I’m a 40 year old man (in a few weeks, yikes), I can admit I was a bit of a handful who took his own posts way too seriously. I probably wasn't even all that funny. But at the time, maaaaybe I had a point? It seemed like people could very easily garner laughs by just mentioning monkeys, squirrels, cheese, pirates, ninjas, or robots. I’m sure I’ve harped on this already on this blog, so I’ll stop, abruptly.

This concludes my coverage of Assy McGee, which should not have had 20 episodes. I did just do a quick-and-dirty list of my top ten. If you are good at math, you’ll realize that this is half of the series. Some of these aren’t that good, but had enough memorable jokes that they made the cut. I’m not sure how to rank these, but I’ll tell you the strongest episode on the list is “The Flirty Black Man”, and the weakest is “Irish Wake”:

S01E01: Murder by the Docks

S01E02: The Flirty Black Man

S01E04: Busted

S01E06: Conviction

S02E02: Pharmassy

S02E03: Mile High Mayhem

S02E06: Irish Wake

S02E07: Vowel Play

S02E08: Hands Up

S02E14: Squirrels

As you can see, Assy joins Twin Peaks in the pantheon of shows where season two falls off dramatically, but comes back strong towards the end. "strong", I says. RIP Assy. For better or for worse, I was the only one who truly understood you.

MAIL BAG

Do you think you could beat a kangaroo in a fight should it come to that (your allowed to lie) also the kangaroo is dressed up as space ghost

I would have serious trouble fighting my hero Space Ghost Coast to Coast, but, no, those things are vicious and I am not strong at all and I'm also very scared all the time. It would be a little comforting if the kangaroo delivered the monologue from the end of "Banjo", but I just found out that kangaroos can't speak English, which is sobering to say the least.

EPHEMERA CORNER

youtube

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #assy mcgee #Youtube

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west-virginia-rivalry-nhl · 4 months ago

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Post Morning Skate 10-08-26

October 08, 2026 Sunrise, Florida

This morning saw the first practice skate on opponent ice as the Rivalry gear up for their first regular season game against the Florida Panthers. We were able to get some time to ask players how they were feeling about the upcoming game as they skated off the ice.

Hunt: "I'm excited! I've got a good group of guys behind me, and I couldn't be more sure of a win tonight. I never thought I'd actually make it to the NHL level, but here I am!"

Romanik: "Still have some bugs to work out of the chemistry, but we are still getting used to playing with each other and not against. I will praise how well the coaching staff has set up the lines. Really worked with keeping us on lines that best suited out play styles."

West: "I'm frustrated. I know this is still fresh and new, but I'm frustrated. I'm sure it'll get better, but I don't know how well it'll run before it smooths out. We have a gaggle of older players, myself included, 2 rookies who are needing more instruction than I'd like, a deaf defenseman, one of the most neurotic goalies I've ever had the displeasure to play in front of, and a redwood tree in goalie pads who I barely understand. This season is going to suck."

Jackson: "There were a few instances where a scrum almost broke out between younger players during this morning's skate, but I think we'll be just fine. It's the woes of a new expansion team. We'll work through it."

Flash: "Me and Shutters [Hunt] are really gelling well together! If I challenge him to a race, he steps up to match me stride for stride. We set a goal; we make it! So far, we are skating circles around the vets."

Iris: Smiled at us the entire time we asked him his thoughts on how the team was doing together before pointing at his ear and loudly saying, "I can't hear you! I don't have my implants on!" This was said almost immediately before Assistant Coach Alec Mateo grabbed his wrist and placed two cochlear implant devices into his glove. Iris was not impressed and walked away without further comment.

Roughtcut: "I don't start tonight. The team is fine. Do I have to do this often?" Roughcut immediate stepped aside as his fellow goaltender stepped of the ice.

Palmer: "As long as the offense puts pucks into the backs of nets, I'll keep the other team from putting pucks in the back of mine. You should really ham up my accent in the article. Make people wonder if I actually sound like that." Palmer then ducked into the hallway down to the dressing room with Roughcut on his heels. We elected to not do that.

While we were interviewing other players, most of the rest of the team had taken the opportunity to slip past without participating in Media. We'll get them the next time.

Finally, we took a moment to speak to Coach Nix as she was on her way down the tunnel for her end of practice meeting.

HCZN: "I'm lucky to have this group of men as my team. They butt heads often, but when they get into a groove, they'll be the most impressive team the NHL has ever seen. I don't believe anyone who says some players aren't NHL quality. If you can play to their strengths and minimize their weaknesses, you can make any player good. There is a reason I picked up players considered 'rejects and outcasts'. I'm sure everyone will see that soon."

Coverage for tonight's game against Florida will start at 7PM EST on Sportsnet and xxx.xFM THE GOAL.

#fake hockey team #hockey rpf #nhl hockey #nhl #ice hockey #hockey

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crystalelemental · 11 months ago

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And that's Gen 8 down. That was the new second fastest clear, again only losing to Gen 1.

My team was Rillaboom, Thievul, Mr. Rime, Butterfree, Alcremie, and Dragapult.

I had intended to rotate around my team more, but tried that early on and felt like it was taking like...actual farming time. I did rotate in some options, like Carkoal crushing Kabu, and Perrserker facing off against Opal and Melony both. Then there were the attempts to use Hattrem and Cufant, but not loving the speed issues. So we had some alternation, but not much.

The team performed well. Rillaboom is...decisively pretty good, I found. +Spd nature probably helped that. Mr. Rime was also excellent, being fantastic on coverage and just fast enough to make the whole thing work. Thievul was great at times, thanks to Nasty Plot + Dark Pulse. It never really used its coverage moves. Alcremie and Dragapult may as well have not existed. No I'm serious. Dragapult didn't fully evolve until after we beat Leon.

The odd one out was Butterfree. See, I did not come into this anticipating Butterfree. I was honestly looking at like...Falinks or something that I haven't touched before. But while I was hunting for Mime Jr, a Pokemon that only appears during a Snowstorm (note: not Snowing, which is different for arbitrary reasons) in one area (Rolling Hills), I found a rare den one day that turned out to be a Naive G-Max Butterfree. I had to run it. So I did! And let me tell you, Sleep Powder + Quiver Dance remains as endlessly hilarious as ever. Sweeps basically every fight that doesn't wake up in one turn. Notably: fuck both Rose and Piers. Butterfree got decent play, but not as much play as I would've liked. Mr. Rime felt like MVP, it just took on the lion's share of random encounters, and swept a few boss fights like Marnie and Raihan.

That said, there's an odd sort of...detachment from this particular team that's fairly hard to identify. The run time was around the same as White, so shorter than average but a bit longer than Gen 1. It's not like I had too little time with the team, which was largely consistent through the run. But having no time with Dragapult at all and minimal time with Alcremie, left me feeling a bit more disconnected. I also barely ran Rillaboom, despite my intent to use it the whole way through. I mean, I did, but the other three were just far more effective overall. Like, I taught it Earthquake, and yet when we came in against Rose, it turned out Escavalier leads and just one-shots with Megahorn. Even Nessa had enough resistance against Grass that, while it did win, it wasn't as clean as I'd appreciate. I dunno.

I did want to give this game an earnest try again, and I think it's at least quick enough to be enjoyable. But I also have to concede that's because I'm on break from my job for a while, and have the time to marathon. The run time is, in some large part, the result of resetting days for Mime Jr, and running early-game dens for new Pokemon, and then late-game alternation for the TRs we're after. Not exactly the fun aspects of the game. In fact when it was just playing, I blitzed from the end of Kabu's fight to the end of Raihan's in about three hours. Then the next three hours were just the cutscene heavy boss rush in Windon, and finding TRs. So if you calc out the 14 hour total run time, 8 goddamn hours was just the first section of the game, dealing with Wild Area and finding what I wanted to run. I have a bit of a problem with that in a structural sense. I'll admit that my initial response to the games was harsher than is warranted, but this one's still low on the list.

#pokemon shield

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charlottemanningjourno · 2 years ago

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Hello!

Here's a selection of some of my fave work I've done in recent years...

Profiles

Loreen: how a legacy of warrior women helped the star win Eurovision - [Rolling Stone UK]

Alex Scott: ‘No one knew that I was going to wear the armband in Qatar’ - [Attitude]

John Whaite on why memoir is a ‘love letter’ to fiancé Paul: ‘He’s my biggest cheerleader’ - [Attitude]

Features

These Tweets Show Britain's Classic Camp TV Moments - [VICE UK]

‘The Masked Singer got me my record deal’: How celebrities took over reality TV and won - [The Independent]

T-shirts, trivia and on-air proposals: why everything stops for Popmaster - [The Guardian]

A Day In The Life Of… Blind Date: ‘I was approached outside a nightclub in Watford - [Metro]

University Graduates Are Being Dropped from Jobs Before They Even Start - [VICE UK]

Pretty East London neighbourhood becoming a 'ghost town' as shopkeepers are being priced out - [MyLondon]

The Outnumbered kids celebrate 15 years of beloved BBC sitcom: ‘I was such a nightmare for the props department’ - [Metro]

TV/film/pop culture interviews

The Aces on ’emotional’ third LP and growing up in Mormon Utah: ‘Three out of four of us are gay’ [Attitude]

Bottoms creator Emma Seligman: ‘I want to see more flawed queer teens on-screen’ - [Attitude]

Mae Muller on ‘honest’ debut album, bouncing back after Eurovision and ‘p***ing off the right people’ - [Attitude]

Rita Ora on ‘personal’ new era: ‘I look at this as a reintroduction’ [Attitude]

Joe Lycett on bringing queer culture to Friday night live prime time: ‘It’s the stuff I’ve always wanted to do on telly’ - [Attitude]

Reviews

King Princess live in London: US star finds community at sold out KOKO show - [Rolling Stone UK]

Everything I Know About Love review: Move over Love Island, your nostalgia-fuelled summer romance is already here - [Metro]

Romy at All Points East review: Euphoric set proves there’s so much more fun still to come - [Attitude]

Mae Muller ‘Sorry I’m Late’ album review: A dazzling debut from London’s new pop princess - [Attitude]

Political interviews

Baroness Ruth Hunt on quitting Stonewall and being ‘way too young’ for House of Lords - [Attitude]

Green Party’s deputy leader Zack Polanski interview: ‘There’s no LGB without the T - [Attitude]

Layla Moran: ‘Being outed so publicly and prematurely has left some scars’ [Attitude]

Misc fun bits I enjoyed writing

5 times Chris Eubank delivered ‘fantabulous’ TV gold all in just one episode of Celebrity MasterChef - [Metro]

Three friends who quit their jobs to run a Walthamstow record shop out of a shipping container [MyLondon]

Londoners are sharing their icks about their own city and it’s gold - [Metro]

'My love of Lego started as a kid - now my designs have been worn by Will.I.Am and Pharrell' - [MyLondon]

Man installs fake timetable to propose at London bus stop where he met girlfriend - [Metro]

Taylor Swift drops 5 new dazzling vault tracks on 1989 (Taylor’s Version) – here’s the complete rundown - [Attitude]

Op-eds

I quit focusing on losing weight and now exercise helps me love myself - [Metro]

I Miss The Thrill Of One-Night Stands - [Huff Post]

Radio

Appeared on: BBC Radio 5 Live, all of BBC's regional news stations, BBC Radio Wales, BBC Radio Ulster, BBC Radio Scotland

Red carpet/live events coverage

TV BAFTAs 2022/23, Eurovision 2023, British Soap Awards, Attitude Awards, Commonwealth Games closing ceremony 2022, Radio 1's Big Weekend

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house-of-kolchek · 3 years ago

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Read My Mind (Part Two)

Jason Kolchek x Reader

Hello!! God it has been a long time since I’ve posted a Jason fic, I’m sorry for the wait!! I hope you enjoy this part, I’ve got a few more fics coming soon!

Part One

Word Count: 2.3k

MASTERLIST

Tags!

@kilchek @yellowroseskolchek @shinydixon @meadows-of-light @cherrypop-xoxo @tangytastyflatboard @kawaiiwitch224 @thedreamingfish99 @boristhepineapple

=============================================================

Jason huffed, adjusting his grip on his rifle as he led the way through another tunnel. He was distracted. Really fuckin’ distracted.

All he could think about was your smile, the sudden softness in your voice as you’d talked Merwin down. You’d put on a good front in front of the Corporal. But you were used to that, he supposed.

Jason repositioned another camera, aiming it at yet another doorway, before a metallic glint caught his eye. The back of his mind flickered with recognition, as he focused on the grenade taped sloppily against the doorway.

“We should reset that tripwire,” he started, glancing back to Nick. “Give me a hand.” Nick kneeled next to the Lieutenant, huffing a breath through his nose as he carefully took hold of the wire.

“We’ve been in some fucked up situations before,” he mused. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves, or the sudden but clear realization that he likely wouldn’t make it to see the sun again, that had him blurting the first thing that came to mind.

“Never as fucked as this.”

“Well. If I gotta fight these things, there’s no one else I’d want by my side.”

Jason’s throat tightened, and he shook his head. Now was not the time to be getting emotional. He returned to his feet, passing the wire to Nick, fully prepared to lay on the hard truth: he couldn’t promise Nick anything. Friend or not.

You have people you’re close to. Don’t push them away.

There was that image again. Jason could see that defeat in your gaze, as you’d told him off. Before he could think, the words were spilling from his mouth.

“You know I’ve got your back, buddy. Come what may.”

He just barely caught the lift in Nick’s lips, and the slight drop of his shoulders as he stood. Jason felt a sudden swell of affection towards his friend, and he knew he’d made the right choice.

It felt good to be honest.

—

“Hold up. This looks like a good choke point. Any of those freaks comin’ up are bound to come through here.”

Jason took a second glance at the room. It was a narrow hallway, with a set of doors on each end and a line of pillars on either end. With a room like this, it would be easy to…

“Set some charges?”

Jason glanced back at Nick, a small grin forming as the Sergeant all but read his mind. He nodded, gesturing to each of the pillars surrounding them.

“Yeah. Let’s rig these pillars up for maximum coverage.”

“They’re more likely to see the tripwires though… you think those things can tell the difference?” Nick asked, and Jason hesitated. It was a fair point. “If we mine up the sides, we’re more likely to catch ‘em out. A smaller spread, but better hidden. What do you think?”

Jason sucked in a breath, giving himself five seconds to think. Those creatures were smart, they knew how to hunt, so it wouldn’t be all that far fetched for them to recognize a trip wire. But they also seemed to be missing eyes, if that corpse was anything to go off of. Would they even see the wires in the first place?

“Let’s go for maximum coverage,” he decided. “I don’t think those things can see in the first place.”

Nick hummed his agreement, muttering something about a “Salim,” and “echolocation.”

“What’s that?” he probed, and Nick shook his head.

“Nothing. I’m thinking the same thing.”

Silently agreeing to drop the subject, Jason moved to the nearest pillar, collecting an explosive from his bag and wiring it up to the faded stone. His mind flickered to you, and he wondered to himself if you were okay. Before he could picture all the gruesome ways you could have been killed, he turned to face Nick again, ready to spark up some idle conversation. His brows furrowed though, as he saw the distant look in his friends eyes.

“I can hear your brain ticking away,” he called, watching as Nick snapped out of his daze. “What’s going on?” He saw the heavy breath Nick took, and a new sense of dread began clawing up his spine.

Don’t…

“We should have given her a second warning.”

“Fuck man, I wish I hadn’t asked,” Jason sighed, throwing his head back and rolling his shoulders. This was the last thing he needed right now. To be thrown back into the cycle of guilt that had screamed through his mind since that day. “I’m through talking about this. That checkpoint was a prime target for suicide bombers. We had to act in the moment. We had to make a call!”

Jason was floundering, that he knew. He was making up a bullshit excuse on the spot, refusing to let the guilt he truly felt shine through. He was supposed to be the one that could read others, and put up a strong front as a leader. He couldn’t show that kind of weakness.

Maybe he was beginning to understand how you felt.

“It was the wrong call,” Nick spat, more to the ground than anything else.

Jason sighed, willing the lump in his throat to go away. He glanced over to his friend, who was still shaking his head. He rose to his feet, just in time for the Nick’s anger to snap.

“Why is it that no-one ever tells it straight!” he huffed, stepping up to Jason. “Everyone just makes up bullshit to get by!”

That one hit too close to home, and Jason swallowed another lump of frustration. He could feel his breaths grow short, as he tried to reign in his own frustrations. He had to be strong.

“Nick…”

“I mean, that’s why we’re in this sandbox in the first place, right?”

Jason gritted his teeth, staring daggers into the wall just over Nick’s shoulder.

“I need the truth, Jason. Shooting that woman messed with my head.”

Jason could still see the blood soaking through the sand, staining your hands as you pressed two fingers against the woman’s neck. He could see the defeat in your eyes, as you told him the bitter truth. He could see the desperation in your expression as you begged him not to follow in your footsteps, just like he was doing right then.

“Are you seriously going to tell me it didn’t mess with yours?”

“Fuck!” Jason cursed under his breath. He tilted his head back, sucking in a long breath before returning his gaze to Nick. He could see the frustration and pain behind his friend’s eyes, and the tension that rose in his shoulders at the small outburst.

“We fucked up,” Jason continued, his tone laced with defeat. “If we make it out of here, we’ll face up to that. If we die down here? Fuck, maybe it’s what we deserve.”

Nick was silent for a moment, taking everything in. He searched Jason’s eyes for a moment, before his shoulders fell again.

“Y’know, I was seeing Rachel.”

“Are you serious?” Jason asked. Nick nodded.

“Been three weeks.”

It had been three weeks since the checkpoint.

Jason wasn’t sure why you came to the front of his mind.

“It’s armed,” Nick sighed, brushing past Jason and heading towards the doorway.

—

You ran a hand through your hair, wincing as the strands tugged against your scalp. Merwin was sleeping restlessly across the room, mumbling under his breath and twitching every so often. He had been like that for the past hour, and while you checked his soaked bandages every few minutes, there was no way he was making it out. Not unless you got the proper equipment for stitching, and a hell of a lot of blood for a transfusion.

You let out a defeated sigh, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. No matter how hard you tried to push people away, hide yourself from the pain that came with losing someone close to you, you could never seem to escape it.

“Fuck,” you sighed, pushing yourself up to your feet, and throwing one more look in the Corporal’s direction. Again, no change. With another sigh, you left the room, heading down the stairs towards the sound of Eric’s voice.

The Corporal was hovering over one of those monsters, analyzing its dead features with a disgusted curl of his lip. Your gaze slid over to the Iraqi soldier, his hands tied and his gaze hard on the two of you. As subtle as you could, you sent him a sympathetic stare.

“(Last Name), pass me the UV lamp please,” Eric ordered, his gaze glancing to you before he returned to muttering in his vocal recorder. You nodded, reaching for the item and handing it to the man. From the corner of your eye, you saw the soldier’s back stiffen, and he piped into the conversation.

“May I offer some advice?” he called, prompting Eric’s attention. The Colonel’s lips pulled back into a frown.

“You had your chance to talk,” he snapped, and you huffed a sigh. Men and their pride.

“Yes, but… the demon does not react very well to sunlight,” the man warned. Eric’s shoulders stiffened. “I would be very careful with that, if I were you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Eric snapped back, flicking the device on. You heard the man mutter under his breath, and a sudden sense of dread pooled in your stomach. You took a step back.

Eric sweeped the light over the monster’s form, nearly missing the sudden crackling sound that emitted from its skin.

“Eric!” you cried, reaching out to yank back on his shirt. He stumbled back just in time to miss the burst of flames that erupted from the monster. His shirt was slightly singed, and the look of shock on his face was unmatched as he turned to look at you.

“Um, thanks,” he whispered. You were just about to respond, when a sudden, shadowy figure brushed past, sending a surge of goosebumps up your arms. You whirled around at about the same time as Eric, your hand hovering over the pistol strapped to your leg. Eric reached a hand out to stop you, stepping forward into the dark temple.

“Kolchek, is that you?” he called, craning his neck to look past the tent. You looked after him, cursing yourself for allowing a sense of hope to fill your chest. When he received no answer, Eric glanced back to you. “I’ll go check it out. Stay here.”

As Eric jogged out to follow that strange figure, you shut your eyes, just for a moment. Regaining your resolve, you sucked in a breath, turning on your heel.

Right into the now untied solider.

“Jesus Christ!”

The man held a hand out to steady you, his eyes flashing with concern, which was quickly masked with panic. He stumbled back a step, bumping against the now charred table with his arms out in surrender.

“Please,” he begged. “I mean you no harm. I just want to get out, and get back to my son.” He searched your eyes, remaining perfectly still as you evaluated the situation. Though you knew it was against protocol, you felt a strong urge to let the man go free. You could see in his actions, his unwillingness to protest, and simply by the look in his eyes: he was telling the truth.

Maybe Jason was starting to rub off on you.

“Go,” you hissed, pointing towards his confiscated stake. “Get out of here before the Colonel comes back. And watch for explosives!”

The man’s gaze softened, and he nodded. In a rush, he scooped up his makeshift weapon, turning back to glance at you one last time.

“Your name?”

“(Name) (Last Name),” you replied, without any hesitation. If you were being honest, it shocked you how willing you were to answer the man.

“Salim Othman. Thank you, (Name). I won’t forget this.”

And with a final nod, Salim crept out of the tent, and into the shadows.

Just in time, of course, for Eric to return.

“I looked around, but I couldn’t see any- Where’s the Iraqi?” Eric nearly stumbled over his words, his face contorting with anger. You went rigid, your mind scrambling to find a believable excuse.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you started, knowing the respect for his rank would certainly be earning you at least one brownie point. “By the time I turned around he had freed himself and run off.”

Simply omitting a detail wasn’t technically lying, right?

“Are you serious?!” Eric cried, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I left you for what - thirty seconds? - and you couldn’t even keep an eye on the one living prisoner we had?”

“Oh, sure, because leaving me with a flaming corpse and an armed man would naturally work out in my favour!” you snapped back, and Eric reared his head back. His expression held a strange mix of anger and shock, as he processed the words you’d just growled at him.

Fuck, your emotions were getting the better of you.

Eric opened his mouth to reply, his lips pulled back into a snarl, only to be cut off by a piercing yell. The voice echoed through the temple, and straight into your heart.

And before you knew what you were doing, you were racing towards Jason’s scream.

#house of ashes #house of ashes x reader #jason kolchek #jason kolchek x reader

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digitalsatyr23 · 2 years ago

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What the Fire Said

Setting: Arachnia Characters: Sonja and Vernar

Outside the cave, a terrible rainstorm was coming down. Harsh, suffocating winds, a downpour causing mudslides, and lightning that blackened long dead trees. It had been dry for a very long time in Besalbrie, but it was as if all the water the country had been denied up until then was coming down at once

Sonja had been separated from Vernar just as the storm was picking up. It all started when she and the masked assassin noticed dark clouds looming up above. They were both so used to the drought and dust storms that it seemed unthinkable that a rainstorm could be brewing. But then, creatures started falling from the clouds. Legless flying birds with four wings growing in an X-shape were descending upon the land, firing bolts of lightning from their mouths and scooping up any hapless animal small and slow enough to become their prey. Vernar called the creatures "arrowhawks", and when an especially large one took notice of the pair, it fired a bolt of lightning right at them. Vernar shoved Sonja out of the way, taking the blast right in the chest. Another bolt of lightning missed its mark, striking a nearby tree near the base of its trunk. The tree was consumed by fire as it fell, creating a natural barrier between Sonja and Vernar. What surprised Sonja the most, however, was that Vernar seemed unharmed by the lightning. While the assassin was scorched where they had been struck, their body seemed suffused with lightning, and their right arm had bulged with muscle. Vernar was tightening one of their leather straps wrapped around their bicep.

"Sonja... In case I lose control... Run!"

Those were the only words Sonja needed to hear. She got back on her feet and ran as fast as she could. That was when the rain started to fall. First in sprinkles, and then in torrents. The dry, crumbling dirt softened, turning to mud. Sonja's bare feet lost their grip on the ground, and the girl tripped, sliding across the muddy earth until she banged into a tree. Hardier, greener trees were growing at the base of a mountain, and they would provide good coverage from the rain. Only, another arrowhawk had spotted Sonja, and it was coming down fast.

The girl got back on her feet, using a branch from the tree to brace herself. The incoming bird would soon be upon her, and it flew too fast to strike with her claws. Instead, she held out her hands and focused, drawing upon the ether flowing through her body. Yes... Water was flowing freely over Besalbrie once again. Sonja may have grown wet from the rain, but the arrowhawk was drenched too. In front of Sonja, a small ball of ice was taking shape. No bigger than a man's eye, it grew and grew in size, swirling with greater and greater speed. The wind, the rain, and everything around Sonja seemed to intensify, and veins of ice were growing over her hands and forearms. Just when the arrowhawk was about to strike, Sonja fired her iceball, striking the arrowhawk right in its twin mouths. A thick sheet of ice formed over the bird in an instant, turning it into a statue. The monster slammed into the ground and shattered, bits of frozen blood pouring out like slush.

Sonja shook her hands and tried using the rainwater to rub the frost off of her. It was no good. She needed to find someplace warm and dry. She peered through the nearby forest, looking for the safest place within. By chance, it seemed that the forest was hiding the entrance to a cave. Sonja took the opportunity and ran; snatching stray twigs and leaves as she went. Once inside the cave, she looked around in the darkness, saw there were no threats, then made a fire. Vernar had taught her a great many things since they had first met. How to find food, how to hunt animals, how to build shelters out of natural materials, and of course, how to make a fire. First, she took the broadest stick she could find and carved a hole into it so she could place some tinder. Parts of the forest were so dense that the rainwater had yet to pierce the canopy, so she was lucky in that regard. With the tinder placed, it was simply a matter of spinning another stick (which she carved one end of to be rounder and blunt) with her hands. It took much longer than she would have liked, but friction gave way to heat, and heat turned to embers. She nourished those tiny embers with a few hot breaths and just like that, she had a small flame. From there, it was a simple matter of keeping the flame alive long enough to heat up her kindling and sticks. A sense of pride washed over Sonja as the fire grew before her. The young girl held her hands out to the fire. A tingly sensation came over her as her red, freezing fingers grew warm. Soon enough, she stopped her shivering, and she was finally able to dry herself. It was strange. She always thought she should fear fire for what it did to her feet, but instead of frightening her, it fascinated her. She loved watching the flames flicker, smoke dance, and burning wood crack as embers flew up into the sky. It was... Comforting. Perhaps she knew that fire would never hurt her. Fire was natural, it was free. If fire hurt you, it would only be accidental, or it was used against you as a weapon. She didn't blame the fire for what happened to her feet. She blamed the people who had lit the fire beneath her. Sonja's memory of what happened was... Fuzzy. Back then, she had known nothing but pain, hunger, and cruelty. She didn't even know how to speak, let alone defend herself. Even so, the sense of dread and despair her past gave her was something she'd never forget.

"I'm glad they're dead," she whispered to herself. "They all deserved to die..."

"I agree."

A voice called out, faint enough to match Sonja's whispers but clear enough that it couldn't have been her imagination. She looked around. Her eyes could discern the faintest movement in the dark, yet as far as she could tell, there was no one in the cave except her. Most sound was being drowned out by the storm outside, and the smoke and burning wood of the fire was obscuring most smells. Was it a hidden enemy? No... There wasn't anyone at all.

Sonja went back to looking at the fire. It was a relaxing sight. She wanted to know what happened to Vernar, but given the things they had been through together, Sonja was more than confident they would be okay. She would just have to be patient and hope Vernar noticed the light her fire was making. Sitting with her legs crossed near the flickering flames, Sonja's eyelids grew heavy. Though she could feel her stomach rumbling, begging for food, the pains of hunger were something she had long grown used to. For the moment, she was at peace. Peace... Safety... And quiet... Before she completely fell asleep, however, Sonja snapped to, sitting straight up. She could feel a tingle across her arms, like small bumps were forming. Something was nearby... Something dangerous. Looking down, she realized what it was. It was the fire, reaching out a grasping tendril of flame towards her spare twigs.

The girl froze in place. She had never seen fire do something so strange - and she had dealt with fey! A morbid curiosity befell her, and she picked up a stick, handing it to the fire. It gladly wrapped its tendril around the twig and drew it in, consuming it with the rest of the wood.

"Are you... Alive?" asked Sonja.

"That's a matter of perspective."

Sonja hopped back onto her feet, claws at the ready. A single eye formed in the center of her fire, staring at her. It had an eyelid too, and its expression could only be described as... Patient frustration.

"Who are you? Are you a spirit?!" Sonja shouted.

"I am... What you see." The voice she had heard twice before seemed to emanate from the fire itself. It continued, saying, "I am burning. I am hunger. I am death."

"Bold words for someone so small," Sonja raised an eyebrow. "Still, if you really are the fire, then I'll try and be respectful. Would you like more wood?"

"Yes, please."

Sonja helped feed the fire by placing more sticks inside of it. The fire grew in size, and its orange and yellow glow made Sonja's shadow dance upon the cavern walls.

"Is that better?" asked Sonja.

"Much better. Thank you," said the fire.

Sonja sat back down, crossing her legs on top of each other as she did before. She tilted her head back and forth, watching as the flame's eye followed her.

"What are you doing?" asked the fire.

"N-nothing. Say, are you the spirit of all fire, or are you just the spirit of THIS fire?"

"Burning and hunger is all I've ever known."

"Yeah? I see..."

Silence followed as Sonja basked in the renewed warmth of the flames. There was a kind of crispness to the heat that she could feel, like an invisible aura rubbing up against her.

"Thanks for drying me," Sonja finally said. "I don't know if you wanted to, but I appreciate it."

The fire's eye closed momentarily. "And thank you for breathing me into life."

"Oh, you're welcome. I... Needed to feel some heat. It got pretty bad outside."

"I can tell. Thunder, lightning, wind, and rain have all come out to play. What once was dry earth can now finally have its thirst quenched."

"Do you know them?" asked Sonja. "The wind and rain?"

"Yes and... No. I can sense faint echoes of understanding. I am... A piece of something greater. An extension. They, too, were once part of something greater."

"What do you mean?"

"It's hard to say. All I know is that this place, this world... Is broken. It has been for a very, very long time."

Sonja frowned at this statement. "You can say that again. No matter where I go, there always seems to be something wrong. I don't think the land is dying, though. Maybe withered? Do you know why?"

"Life."

"Life?"

"Yes. There has always been a balance in nature. Rabbits eat plants where there is food a plenty. Rabbits multiply. Wolves eat rabbits because there is now enough food for them. With the rabbits gone, the plants can regrow. With the rabbits gone, the wolves starve, and the rabbits can return. The world is a cycle of hunger, consumption, death, and revival. This is how it was always meant to be... But there are those who are too clever to be consumed, too clever to die off when food grows scarce. They have learned to cheat the cycle. They shape nature to their whims, create more than they would ever need, and strip the land of its life force... Do you know who I am referring to?"

Sonja thought about the fire's words for a time. There was only one answer, as far as she could tell. "People?"

"Precisely. People are a blight upon this beautiful, terrible world."

"Even me?"

The fire said nothing for a time, its eye closed once more. "Perhaps... Perhaps not. If a balance could be restored, then not everyone has to die. Simply enough for the world to... Recover."

Outside, the storm still raged on. The winds were harsher, the rains heavier, and both rocks and loose trees were giving way to the mudslides. Sonja took notice of this, feeling a shiver run up her spine.

"How do you know all this?" Sonja asked.

"The echoes. I can feel them. I am a piece of something much greater. Greater than what you see before you."

Sonja stared at the fire. She still liked the warmth and light it provided, but its words left her feeling troubled.

"But you'll never rejoin that part of you, huh?" said Sonja.

The fire grumbled at this and said, "No... I never will. I am nothing but an echo. Nothing but an ember. The rest of me is too far away. I cannot reach it."

"If you could, would you?"

"Yes."

"Even if that meant losing yourself in the greater whole?"

The fire hesitated for a moment before saying, "It's only natural to wish to be whole. Don't you feel the same way?"

"I can't say I know that feeling. I'm not a small piece of anything. I'm just me."

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah?"

The fire leered at Sonja, or more... It felt as if it were looking at something behind Sonja. The girl glanced over her shoulder. Nothing was there.

"I see..." said the fire. "Perhaps one day you will understand. As for me, I shall continue to hunger. I shall continue to burn. There is nothing else for me in this life."

Sonja's eyelids felt heavy. She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. The fire had grown quiet. It said no more words. Its eye had also disappeared. All that was left was flame, slowly eating away at all the wood she had collected.

"Did I imagine that?" Sonja wondered. "I don't think I was asleep, but... I was feeling tired earlier..."

"Sonja," said a shadowy figure at the cave's entrance. "What are you talking about?"

It was Vernar. They had finally reached the cave, and their arm seemed fine as well. Sopping wet, the assassin stayed at the lip of the cave, doing their best to wring water out from their black clothes.

"It was... Nothing," said Sonja.

"I know that look. It certainly wasn't nothing. What happened while I was away?" asked Vernar.

Sonja sighed, taking a moment to organize her thoughts. She then explained everything that had transpired in the cave. The fire, the voice, its cryptic words... She spoke of every detail. While Sonja spoke, Vernar eventually took their place beside the fire, making use of its warmth to finish drying off. They even lifted their mask forward ever so slightly to let trace amounts of water trapped behind it leak out, but never enough to allow Sonja to see Vernar's face. When the girl was done, Vernar crossed their arms and hummed in thought.

"You're certain the fire told you all of this?"

Sonja nodded. "I almost fell asleep, but I'm certain it wasn't a dream."

"Is that so..." Vernar extended their clawed hands occluded in black over the flame. Small droplets of water fell away, sizzling on the glowing embers along the cracked wood. "You know, fire is spoken of in both magical and alchemical texts. In the world of magic, fire is the element of ambition. In the world of alchemy, fire is seen as the element of transformation. While they each share a different perspective, there is one thing they have in common. Fire is seen as change. It can cook your food. It can burn your house down. It can light your path. Fire can do a great many things. It doesn't surprise me that a flame spirit's personality would reflect this trait. As for what it said, I have my own opinions on the matter, but what do you think?"

Sonja groaned. "You know I don't have a head for these sorts of things..."

"Don't make excuses. Whether it was consciously or not, I'm certain you formed an opinion while listening to the fire. What is it?"

"Well... I think life is unfair."

"Oh?"

"You can't choose where you're born, what you're born as, or the state of the world you happen to be born into. The world is always changing. Sometimes you get lucky and are born into a situation that suits you. Other times you're born into a crazy cult that wants to sacrifice you and your kind to bring the rain." Sonja looked away from Vernar. "We can make the best of our circumstances, but we can't really change them. Not unless you're someone strong, like you."

The eye on Vernar's mask closed. "In other words, there's no point in complaining. The world will never be how you want it to be, so instead, try and put your energy towards something productive."

Sonja nodded at this, saying, "Exactly. I know it was saying that people ruined the world, but... Did we? I feel like it's closer to people changed the world."

"Indeed. The only world that was ruined was the one the spirit preferred. It is said that long ago, there were no people. The world was barren of all but the elements, wild and free. But then the gods took hold of that chaotic world and forged it into something new. The gods then made people, who in turn adapted the world to suit their own needs. Nothing lasts forever..." Vernar looked outside towards the rainstorm. "Not even drought. Perhaps there will come a time when even people are usurped and replaced."

Sonja leaned in towards Vernar saying, "Seriously?!"

"I can't say for certain, though. Best not to dwell on it, right?"

Sonja then leaned back again, grumbling. Vernar liked to pose philosophical questions, but Sonja couldn't help but wonder if Vernar used them to hide deeper truths. How dangerous was the world? What were its secrets? Perhaps it was better not to know. Stay ignorant. Stay happy.

"As if!" thought Sonja. "There's so much to learn about the world, so much to uncover and understand. Whether Vernar helps me or not, I'll find the answers someday."

"You seem excited for something," said Vernar.

"O-oh! It's uh... I was just thinking about what would be really tasty to eat!" said Sonja, rubbing her belly. Vernar narrowed their eye at her.

"Is that so?"

Sonja and Vernar still had a great deal of walking to do. For now, they would wait, and when the time was right, they would continue their journey. Though Sonja would get wrapped up in a great many events, she never forgot the day she spoke with fire. Its words stayed with her, forever echoing in her mind.

"Perhaps one day you will understand. As for me, I shall continue to hunger. I shall continue to burn. There is nothing else for me in this life."

#fantasy #dark fantasy #sonja #vernar #short story #short fiction #arachnia #my writing #writeblr #what the fire said #Arachnia Fables

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annaphoenix1994 · 3 years ago

Text

Masterlist!

October 7th - Michael Makes You a Festive and Spooky Dinner

Michael of your Choosing!

How you hated working a retail job, especially towards the end of the year when most of the festivities and holidays are closer together.

Some days, you got home right on time. And other days, you had to stay over for a half hour to provide coverage on a register while waiting on the next cashier to come in.

Due to this, you were unable to check your phone every time you felt it buzzing.

Whether it being Michael or one of your friends, you just couldn't do it.

When the store was slow, you took the opportunity to check your phone and open the text message Michael had sent you, which wasn't often as he truly hated a phone, but he liked to communicate with you and you figured giving him one of your older phones would help him as it took him forever to come out of his shell and actually speak to you.

He simply asked you when you were coming home and you could only reply with "I'm waiting on the next cashier to get here so I can leave. Probably another hour."

He hated when your job seemed to take advantage of you, but he desperately tried to understand.

Roughly an hour later, you were relieved to see the cashier come in to relieve you from the register. Clocking out in a rush, you were desperate to get home and start on dinner.

Once home, you immediately took note of a warm and nostalgic smell coming from inside as you opened the door. Michael was cooking?

"Michael? I'm home!" You announced, removing your shoes off of your feet at the door and setting down your purse.

He didn't reply to you, but you continued into the kitchen to see him stirring whatever it was he had put into the crock pot.

You smiled, leaning up against the doorframe to watch him. Whatever he was making looked and smelled very good, especially what was in the oven.

"Whatcha making?" You asked, surprised that you startled him.

He set the wooden spoon on the nearby napkin before coming over to greet you, kissing your temple before replying, "I went hunting."

You gasped, praying he was joking, pushing him away from you before he started laughing. "Relax, I'm just kidding. Vegetable soup."

"I don't know if I trust you now." You giggled before watching him go to the trash can to show you that he used cans of vegetables and a can of corned beef.

"I'd never do that," He shook his head. "Who do you think I am? Dahmer?"

"I'd sure hope not."

"I mean, I've done my fair share of bad things, but the things he did...wow. I remember reading about him when I was, you know, locked up."

"Whatcha got in the oven?"

"Cinamon streusel cake."

"Wow, you made that all yourself?" You asked, knowing you didn't have any cake mix of that stature in your pantry.

"Yeah... after I figured out how to use Google." He chuckled.

"I'm sure it'll be delicious."

"You got home just in time. It's almost done. Go get settled in and I'll have a bowl waiting on you. Figured we could watch a movie tonight if you wanted to."

"Of course, Michael."

Seriously, how was this man so perfect for you?

#og michael myers #michael myers #james jude courtney #h40michael #michaelmyers #myersoneshots #peepaw myers #rz michael myers

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ballplayersxo · 2 years ago

Note

Kobe Bryant and now his estate definitely shilled/ are shilling out the big bucks to make sure the general public isn’t aware of all the tea. A podcast called Hollywood Raw by 2 former TMZ employees confirmed that word always get around to the celeb before they publish anything and there have been many instances where the celeb paid them off or worked out some sort of deal to squash stories. If celebs pay to squash stories, they definitely pay to write stories in their favor. Daily Mail does an absolutely HORRIFIC job at hiding it. The two even went a bit in depth about the Kardashians having that practice down to a pat and are very shrewd in the process. A lot of the media coverage about him, his wife, and the daughters especially since his death sound so much like PR fluff pieces and I’m willing to bet 9 times out of 10 they are. His estate and the media have done an amazing job at spinning his and Gianna’s deaths *not the other 7 deaths* as some great American tragedy and paint his awful wife out to be a pillar of strength. It’s all a gross game being played to make every party involved more money. I too am just waiting for the house of cards to fall bc I’m really over the self-imposed aggrandizement of them.

Going on a little detour for all you Swifties and Harries in here if any, but they invited two prominent paps on to the pod and all 4 confirmed that Harry Styles and Taylor Swift were 100% PR. They sounded so annoyed talking about them bc everything with those 2 was so calculated but ppl ate it up. 1 of the paps spilled that he was sent on an assignment all the way to Las Vegas even though he’s stationed to work in LA to basically hunt down Kobe’s parents on the 1st anniversary of the crash just like what they did when news first broke of the crash and they took and published pics of his father crying. The media only ever post pap pics of Vanessa at Disney Land with the kids and I definitely believe it’s strategic. When Kobe was around, it was mainly fans taking pics and posting them on social not paps. I don’t listen to the pod often but I’m sure more insider info has been spilled and on everyone.

thank you for this anon 😭 i love when you guys spill stuff like this

#kobe bryant

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hercleverboy · 5 years ago

Text

the burden of the blame

spencer reid x reader

based off of this request > the reader gets shot on a case while trying to protect a child. The reader gets pissed bc the child needs more help than she does and Spencer comes to her aid first. The kid dies and she thinks it’s her fault.

genre > angst/fluff

wc > 3.1k

after being shot and nearly killed on a case, the reader deals with spencers upset as well as the guilt she feels of not being able to save the victim.

Genre : Angst ending with fluff.

Word Count : 3.1k

Based on this request from @thatsonezesty13 : “Ok so the reader gets shot on a case while trying to protect a child. The reader gets pissed bc the child needs more help than she does and Spencer comes to her aid first. The kid dies and she thinks it’s her fault.”

A/N : I changed the story a little from the original request, but it’s still pretty much what you asked for! I hope you like it!

The team had spent a week hunting down an unsub, who just seemed to keep slipping through their grasp. This unsub was killing young boys in horrifically gruesome ways. The team profiled that he wanted to be well known, this unsub wanted to go down in history as one of the greatest serial killers of all time. He was a narcissist, he thrived off the fact that he had successfully evaded the police, and now that the FBI couldn’t seem to get him either, it only further boosted his ego. Finally, after two more bodies of young boys turned up, they eventually got a name and an address. Y/N, Morgan and Reid were already nearer to the address, so they arrived there before the rest of the team. They pulled up outside the property, jumping out the car and making their way to the front of the house. Morgan turned to the couple, going over the plan.

“We can’t afford to wait for the rest of the team, we’re going to have to go in, just us three.”

Y/N nodded, grabbing her gun from her holder. Morgan and Reid were going to take the front of the house, and Y/N was going to take the back. Just before they began to get into their positions Spencer grabbed his wife by the waist and pulled her into a quick kiss.

“You come back to me, okay?” He murmured against her lips.

Spencer and Y/N had been married for a year now and were even discussing having children together. He knew his wife was more than capable of protecting herself and was a downright badass in the field. However, this unsub was different. His actions were unpredictable, the profile couldn’t determine how he would react to them finding him. He couldn’t lose her.

She gave him a small smile. “Always.” She promised, before stealthily moving behind the house with her gun drawn.

She heard Derek break in the front door and at the same time she broke down the back door, moving quickly with her gun held up, surveying the rooms for any movement or clues as to where the unsub might be holding his most recent victim. She heard a faint bump and moved toward the sound. She pushed open a creaky door, shining her flashlight down into what appeared to be a basement.

“Jack Richards? FBI!” She called as she began to descend the staircase. When she reached the bottom step, her eyes landed on the unsub, who stood with the small child he’d kidnapped, a gun pressed to the child’s forehead.

“Put the gun down, Jack.” Y/N tried, though she knew this unsub was already past being reasoned with. She knew she had to try, especially with a young boy’s life at stake. “Let’s work this out.”

“I don’t want to work this out, agent. You don’t get it, do you?” The unsub taunted her. Y/N looked the child in the eyes, giving him a reassuring nod, one that said ‘stay calm. It’ll be okay. I’ll protect you.”

“I get it. You want to be well known, right?” Y/N started. “You want kids in criminology classes learning about your cases, you want the towns children to fear your name like an overtold ghost story.”

The unsubs grip on the boy and the gun faltered as he gasped. “Yes! I want to be the one their afraid of! I want to be as well-known as Dahmer and Bundy, I want to be told in stories 50 years from now!” He exclaimed.

“Haven’t you seen the news coverage, Jack? You’re famous.” She replied and the smile that covered the unsubs face made Y/N feel sick. But she had to keep the act up long enough to save this child.

“Why don’t you put the gun down and let the boy go, and you can go outside and see. The media are here, imagine all those cameras, all those news reporters. All calling your name, all wanting to hear your story.” Y/N emphasised, hopeful that her attempt to talk him down seemed to be getting somewhere.

The unsub simply smiled, unnerving Y/N. “Agent, that sounds great. But wouldn’t it make for an even greater story for the press to hear that it ended in such tragedy? With the death of a child and a courageous FBI agent that got caught in the crossfire?”

Her eyes widened, and she realised all too late what his words meant. “Wait-“She shouted out as three gunshots pierced through the air.

She watched as the boy and the unsub dropped to the floor. She turned around slowly, and saw Spencer holding his gun at the bottom of the staircase. The unsub was dead, the bullet that Spencer fired had hit him square in the forehead.

Y/N didn’t even register the pain in her left side until she looked down, watching the blood that blossomed on her white shirt. She collapsed to the ground in agony, but her eyes remained on the small boy, who was laying there bleeding, barely breathing but alive.

She heard Spencer’s voice calling for medics, as he rushed to his wife’s side. She cried out in pain as she registered the feeling of his hands pressing to her side, desperately trying to slow the flow of blood leaving her body.

“S-Spencer.” She choked out, tears leaving her eyes and trembling down the side of her face. His face came into view then, and she saw that he was crying too.

“Hey baby. I’m here, you gotta stay awake for me, okay. Please, oh god, please.” Her blood caked his hands, staining his shirt as he desperately tried to slow the bleeding.

“Spencer, you have to- you have to go to him. Help him, please.” She looked over to the small boy, before looking back to her husband, pleading him with her eyes.

“Y/N if I leave you you’re gonna bleed out, I can’t-“ He choked but she shook her head at him and let out a small whimper.

“Spencer- Spence- please. Please help him, I’ll be fine, I can hold on.” She begged and he went to protest again but the look in his wife’s eyes made him crack. He nodded, scrambling over to the small boy and checking his pulse with his fingers. It was barley there, and Spencer knew he wouldn’t last until medics arrived. He looked towards Y/N and shook his head slowly, tears falling down his cheeks.

“Bring him here, he can’t- he can’t die alone.” She cried and Spencer lifted the small boy up, laying him down next to Y/N, who reached over with the last of her strength to grab the boys hand.

The boys drowsy eyes flicked to hers, and they were so full of fear. Y/N hissed as Spencer’s hands returned to place pressure on her wound.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know it hurts. You can go, it’s okay.” She promised the young boy as she sobbed, her chest heaving, despite how it made her side burn. The boy took his last breath as the medics stormed the room, and Y/N let out a heart-wrenching cry.

They were seconds too late.

Spencer cried too, as he watched his wife slip from consciousness, her body going limp.

“Baby? Baby, please! Please.” He sobbed desperately trying to cling to his wife as he was pulled away by the medics.

Spencer watched helplessly as she was placed into the ambulance. She was still alive, by some miracle, she was fighting to live.

“Are you coming with us, Sir?” The medic asked, and Spencer nodded frantically, hopping in the back of the ambulance, the team promising to meet him in the hospital.

He held Y/N’s hand tightly in his and begged, prayed to every god that she would be okay. Once they made it to the hospital, she was rushed into emergency surgery, and Spencer was left in the waiting room, her blood caking his hands as he collapsed in on himself, the sobs wracking through him. The team rounded the corner into the waiting room at that moment, and JJ immediately rushed to her best friends’ side, taking him in a hug as Spencer sobbed into her shoulder.

JJ attempted to reassure him, but what could she say to make this better? Eventually they managed to convince Spencer to clean himself up in the hospital toilets, JJ having to go with him to help wash his wife’s blood from his trembling hands.

They sat in the waiting room for hours. The team had given up trying to get Spencer to eat or sleep, since he just snapped at them anytime they tried to ask him to take care of himself.

“Reid, Y/N would want you to take care of yourself, okay? You gotta eat something, man.” Derek tried, only to be met with Spencer’s harsh glare.

“I’m not doing anything until I know if my wife is alive.” He seethed, before turning his gaze back to the floor.

The team shared a look, but ultimately decided that Spencer wasn’t going to budge, so they stopped trying.

Hotch on the other hand was rather persistent. He sat next to the younger boy, who sighed and leaned back as his superior sat beside him.

“Hotch, I don’t wanna hear it-“ He started but Hotch cut him off.

“She will be just fine, you know that? Your wife is many things, a quitter is not one of them. You know how stubborn she is, she won’t go down without a fight.” Spencer almost smiled at the comment.

“I just keep thinking if I’d of gotten there sooner, maybe I could’ve stopped this, or even saved that boy I-“ Spencer couldn’t explain the guilt he’d felt as he watched the young boy die before him. He couldn’t help but feel as though he should’ve done more, but he was faced with an impossible choice; the love of his life or the life of a young innocent boy?

“Reid, there is nothing you could’ve done differently.”

“You know Y/N made me pick him up and bring him over to lie next to her so she could hold his hand? She didn’t want him to die alone.” Spencer choked out. His wife’s compassion was one of the things he’d fallen in love with. “I can’t lose her, Hotch.”

“You won’t.”

No one else spoke after that.

It was a long four hours of Spencer nervously pacing the waiting room, the team sat in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Finally a doctor walked down the hallway, calling Y/N’s name out. Spencer sprang up from his seat.

“Yes, is she okay?” He asked desperately, his breaths coming out in soft pants. The doctor gave a small smile.

“Dr Reid, your wife is quite the fighter. She flatlined twice during surgery but she pulled through, against all odds. She is incredibly strong, we expect her to make a full recovery.”

Spencer had never felt a relief so sweet.

“She’s resting now, but as you’re her husband you’re welcome to go and sit by her, she could wake up any minute now. The rest of you will be able to see her later.”

Spencer thanked the doctor profusely before turning to face his team. He gave them a relieved smile, and they all smiled back, encouraging him to go and see his wife. He thanked them too before following the doctor towards Y/N’s room.

He pulled up a chair next to Y/N’s bed, moving to take his hand in hers, his focus on the small sparkling wedding ring that sat on her ring finger. He pressed as kiss to her hand, his eyes filling with tears as she looked at her.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Spencer recited her favourite books from memory and told her stories, anything to push away the thoughts that entered his head.

what if she never wakes up?

It was in the middle of the night that Y/N finally twitched awake. Her eyes fluttered open, and she glanced around her, quickly registering where she was. She looked down to her left side, where her husband sat in a chair at her bedside. His hand held hers tightly, and he’d fallen asleep resting his hand on her stomach. She brought her other hand up and gently ran her hands through his hair, which woke Spencer from his slumber. She felt awful for waking him, the circles under his eyes that were darker than usual were an indication that he hadn’t had any sleep in a while.

“Y/N?” He whispered, looking up at her with tears in his eyes. “You’re awake, you’re okay?” He was more asking himself than her, trying to assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming.

“I’m okay.” She assured him and he let a sob escape his lips as he gently brought her into a hug, being careful of her injury. He sobbed into her shoulder as she held him tightly, soothing him with gentle shushes and calming strokes on his back.

Once he’d calmed down he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “I almost lost you, baby.” He whimpered.

She shook her head. “It’ll take more than a bullet to separate me from you, Spencer Reid. I believe I promised you forever. I intend to keep that promise.” She gestured to their wedding bands and he smiled down at them. He placed his hands on either side of her face, bringing her into him for a gentle kiss, one that reassured him that she was here, alive, and that the nightmare he’d been living was over.

When they pulled back, he sighed and Y/N frowned. “Now that I know you’re okay, would you mind telling me what on earth you were thinking?” He questioned.

Y/N wasn’t sure where this sudden change in mood had come from, and Spencer cut her off before she could answer him.

“You’ve gotta stop being so reckless, Y/N. Morgan and I were there too, you should’ve called out to us for backup before you went down the staircase.” He sounded like he was telling her off and Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’m serious, Y/N! Don’t you get it? You nearly died!”

“I told you to save him instead of me, Spence.” She spoke calmly. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, like she blamed him, nor was it cold or rude. She knew he was mad at her for putting herself in that position, but all she cared about at the time was saving that little boy.

He looked up at her bewildered, getting up from his seat. “Y/N, what was I supposed to do? Let you die?”

“Yes, Spencer. I would’ve happily given my life for that boy. Better me than him.” It was harsh and unfair to say, she knew that. But she was hurting and trying to make her husband understand the decisions she’d made.

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare say that, Y/N. Please, don’t ever say that.”

“This is my job, Spence. I made a promise that I would protect those who can’t protect themselves, and I need to keep that.” She explained.

Spencer scoffed. “What about the promises you made me, Y/N?” He asked, his voice getting louder, pointing to the golden wedding band that sat on his finger.

She sighed. “Spence its not the same-”

“Y/N Reid, you listen to me.” His voice was stern as he came to sit next to her again. “I will never, prioritise someone’s life over yours. I don’t care if it’s selfish, if its against the morals of my job. You’re my life, Y/N. I will not lose you. Do you understand?” His eyes searched hers, and she knew she better drop the subject, at least for now. She wasn’t going to win.

She smiled at him, which made his stern demeanour falter. He could never stay made at her.

He pulled her back into his embrace as the doctor came in, a smile on his face at the couple.

“Ah! Mrs Reid! Lovely to see you awake. How’s the pain?”

Y/N took a deep breath, hissing at the pain in her side. “It’s bad. Hurts like a bitch.” She joked and the doctor chuckled a little.

“We’ll get you something for that. I just came in to tell you that your vitals look good. You’re expected to make a full recovery and we can get you out of here by tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Spencer said and Y/N smiled gratefully as he walked away. Spencer opened his mouth to speak again, grasping Y/N’s hand in his, but was interrupted by the sound of voices coming down the hall.

Just then, the team burst into the room, all smiling happily at the sight of the couple, but also happy that Y/N was alive.

“There’s my beautiful best friend!” Garcia chirped at Y/N, as she placed a bouquet of flowers on the table next to her bed. She turned towards Spencer. “Move over, boy wonder. It’s my turn to get some of Y/N’s love.” She grinned, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace once Spencer had moved away with a chuckle. Spencer moved to stand at the back of the room next to Hotch, watching his wife laugh and joke with the people who’d become their family.

Hotch turned to him, smirking slightly. “See? I told you she’d be fine.”

Derek and Rossi moved to join the guys conversation, as JJ, Emily and Garcia all sat around Y/N’s bed, gossiping with her about something or other.

Derek chuckled lightly. “What, you think a bullet could take down the great Y/N Reid? Think again.”

“I heard that, Morgan. You know I could kick your ass if need be.” Y/N teased, which earned a laugh from the team.

Derek just raised his arms in mock surrender. “I know you could, doll. I know better than to underestimate you.” He teased back.

Rossi chimed in. “Damn right. She’s kinda scary when she’s mad, wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.”

Spencer nodded in agreement with a laugh. “Its true. You should’ve seen her last week when I ate the rest of her crisps. She wasn’t happy.”

Spencer looked around the room and let himself bask in the warmth and happiness that filled it. Over the years he’d learned to cherish the little moments like that, where everyone was healthy, happy and together.

The fact that moments like that were so few and far between only made them more precious.

It was in that moment that Spencer Reid knew what true happiness felt like.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds

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