#i did good for a few weeks and then fell down the slippery slope and i’m back to square 1

[anarchomccarthyist]

.

[helliontherapscallion]

Sweet Betrayal

Part 2     Part 3     Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, neglect, successful suicide attempt, death, insanity

(A/N): I had a little too much fun writing this

“I’ll help you.”

Tommy cheered and clapped a hand on your shoulder. Wilbur gave you a slightly manic smile, his plan is going to work out perfectly with you working with them. Techno merely grunted in acknowledgement. Something about your tone threw him for a loop, but he just summed it up to the voices and his growing trust issues. The voices were screaming at him not to trust you, that you were a traitor, that you’d betray them. But there’s no way his youngest sibling would ever betray them; they couldn’t hurt a fly. They were basically defenseless. 

Tubbo looked slightly hesitant to accept you as his spying partner, but he figured that you joining him would take most of the stress off from his shoulders. You were close to Schlatt, he basically treated you as if you were his own. He was slightly jealous at how close to his father you were when he, Schlatt’s biological son, was often standing in the same room as them. He knew that Schlatt was a shitty father and could never shape up to being as good of a father figure than Philza was to him, but he just couldn’t help but feel hurt at the fact that his own father, who abandoned him at the side of the road as a kid, so readily took on another kid that wasn’t himself. Despite his resentment towards you, he accepted having you as a partner. Maybe once he got to know you better you weren’t so bad. 

On the outside, you were giving your ‘brothers’ a sweet smile. Almost sickeningly sweet as you plastered it on your face to hide the resentment and hatred brewing inside of you threatening to escape and fill this ravine with it’s raging waves. They were never your brothers, always choosing to exclude you from everything they were doing. As a kid, you had nobody to rely on. Tommy had Tubbo and Wilbur had Techno and Philza. You were completely, utterly alone as a kid. 

You were always deprived of social interaction, always being told to ‘suck it up’, ‘quit whining’, and ‘just accept it’. You watched from the sidelines as your brothers received all the love and support from each other and Philza, and you were sick of being left out. Their proposal has made you finally reach your breaking point. You came to the realization that you were only going to get their support only when you were of use to them. 

Even as adults and as teenagers, they’re always acting like children. Whining over losing power, getting exiled, how ‘tyrannical’ every single government was, like get a grip. You brought this upon yourself. Manberg would be much better off without you two. Just accept leadership, it’s there to bring natural structure to society. This isn’t high school, stop overreacting. Oh, how you longed to scream in their faces, drop the happy, sweet, and defenseless facade you always wore. You were broken down by them, and you were going to be their downfall. You would make sure of it. At least, that’s what Schlatt promised you. 

You met Schlatt one day when you were alone in the forest far from the house you called home. It was dark out and you were hiding from the mobs that threatened to take one of your lives. He found you by following your whimpers, taking you back to his house and giving you shelter for a few days. He treated you like you were a person, an actual human being, and that made you realize that you weren’t alone in the world afterall. Philza and your brothers didn’t even notice that you were gone until after a week of staying with Schlatt. You remembered how Philza stormed into Schlatt’s house, grabbed you by the ear, apologized to Schlatt, and drug you home lecturing you the entire time. You were grounded for a month after that and banned from talking to Schlatt.

However, you still talked to Schlatt in secret. He eventually treated you like you were his own, showering you with the love and support that you were deprived of. You supposed you craved constant reassurance and kindness, and you chopped it up to how you were raised. You had trauma and Schlatt was there to fix that. He gave you constant support, something your ‘family’ has never done. Well, they did once when you finally broke and fell into a deep depression, never leaving your room. They didn’t notice that, but what they did notice was the death message that flashed across their comm tablets: “(Y/n) suffocated.”

When they ran to your room, they caught the last of the golden dust that used to be your body drifting into the atmosphere. In the center of your room hanging from an exposed pipe in the ceiling was a noose fashioned from an old rope they had noticed had gone missing a few weeks ago. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you hung yourself. 

For a solid month after that, they treated you like they treated each other and you felt like you were soaring the entire time. Philza even told you that he loved you and that he was proud of you when you ate your first meal in a week!  All of the attention and support faded when they saw you smile more and laugh louder. You faded again into obscurity and all that came out of that successful suicide attempt was not your family’s unconditional love like you had hoped, but an ugly scar that wrapped around the entirety of your neck.  

You were going to fuck up their plans. They deserved it for ostracizing you all those years. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your and Schlatt’s plan was unfolding swimmingly. Your idiotic brothers had no clue of your betrayal and that always made you want to laugh hysterically, but you held it in until you got back to the White House. You would laugh in Schlatt’s office with him. The cabinet often heard loud, boisterous laughter booming from behind the closed office doors, but they’ve long since learned not to question it. 

They grew wary of you two, it seemed that your sanities were turning into slippery slopes. The Emperor and the Secretary of Defense could not be fully trusted to make any decisions anymore. Even Quackity, who loved his adopted kid to death, agreed that they couldn’t be trusted. You and Schlatt had changed so much from when he first started dating Schlatt. It hurt him to see his husband and his child slip into insanity.

While you were planning the festival with Schlatt and Tubbo, it was extremely hard for you to keep a straight face. Whenever Schlatt wasn’t looking, Tubbo would smirk and glance at you from the corner of his eyes. It was in those moments specifically that you would struggle the most with containing your laughter. Originally, Schlatt was only going to exile Tubbo for his treachery, but after the fiasco with the lame excuse of ‘farming totems of undying’, you convinced him to turn it into an execution. You organized every single part of Tubbo’s execution, it was perfect in your opinion. At the same time, you were giving Schlatt information of your brother’s whereabouts during the festival. You were going to put on a show for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the stage, you were shifting and fidgeting relentlessly from your position between your adopted dads. From an outside perspective, one would assume that you’re nervous to be on stage in the middle of the spotlight. Everybody outside of the cabinet and your fathers still saw you as the innocent kid that wouldn’t hurt a fly. How wrong they were. Tubbo’s speech was the hardest to sit through, Quackity had to have a tight grip on your hand to prevent you from rushing the teenager and caging him too early. 

After Schlatt gave you the signal, you, him, and Quackity quickly trapped him in a cage made of yellow concrete. You could hear the shocked gasps of the audience and saw Wilbur holding Tommy down from revealing their hiding spot. Schlatt gently nudged you up to the microphone with a kind smile. 

You walked confidently up to the podium and gave the audience the widest closed-eyed grin they’d ever seen on you. “Hello citizens of Manberg, other guests,” you opened your eyes and shot a smug smirk over to your older brothers on the roof. You took great pleasure in the look of hurt, anger, and betrayal in their eyes. 

“What you are going to witness today is my pride and joy. As it turns out, our dearest Tubbo here,” you turned around to give a grandiose gesture at the cage behind you, “is a filthy little traitor.” The last word ripped itself from your mouth like a rattlesnake spitting venom at its victims. 

Tubbo banged on the walls in a rage, “you were a spy too! YOU WERE A SPY FOR POGTOPIA TOO!” 

“On the contrary, dearest Tubbo. I was a double agent working for Schlatt, my father. I was never loyal to Pogtopia. Why would I be when you all used me?” You gave him a gentle smile. The insane and malicious glint in your eyes contrasted the kindness of your features. You turned back to the podium with that same smile. The combination of your words and your expression sent cold chills down the spines of the Manbergians. They now saw you as who you really were. 

“Now, since I was so rudely interrupted,” you shot a glare at the shocked boy behind you, “hm, where was I?” You rubbed your chin in false confusion before you perked up, “oh right! What you are going to witness today is the public execution of our dear friend Tubbo.” You broke into a series of manic giggling, pounding your fist against the wood of the podium. The gasps of the audience sounded like music to your ears.

“TECHNOBLADE, GET THE HELL UP HERE BROTHER! YOU HAVE THE HONORS.”

You shouted through your laughter. Technoblade climbed up the stairs and stood facing you with a harsh glare. You grinned at him as he spoke to you with his usual monotone voice. This time, there was an undeniable angry undertone you could clearly detect, “what do you want me to do?”

“You still have that rocket launcher, right?”

He pulled it out of his satchel. You squealed happily and jumped up and down clapping your hands excitedly, “good! I’ve always liked fireworks. Now be a dear and make Tubbo go out with a bang!”

He walked over to face Tubbo’s cage and pointed the crossbow at him. You could see his finger trembling over the trigger and a nervous sweat gathering at his brow. After a while of seeing no firework action, you grew impatient and started to furiously shout at him.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, BLOOD GOD? WHAT, ARE YOU TOO MUCH OF A PUSSY TO DO IT NOW? KILL HIM! BLAST HIM TO SMITHEREENS! FUCKING DO IT.”

With every word that left your mouth, you stepped closer to him until you were screaming into his ear. You felt immense pleasure when you saw him start to shake. When you heard the shooting of fireworks and the agonized screams of Tubbo and saw the colorful blasts, you felt like you were on cloud nine. It was beautiful. 

Your insane laughter was heard over the chaos that followed. Schlatt and Quackity, seeing Techno’s growing anger after killing Tubbo, moved to push you behind them. Quackity wrapped his wings around you in a tight hug before fireworks were shot at your family. After you pushed Quackity away from you, you saw your father’s corpse lying on the stage floor. It was clear that he had just lost a life. 

Quackity collapsed to the stage with a groan before he briefly passed out. You checked if he was still breathing before you looked at Technoblade with anger written clear on your features. You gave a furious shout before you charged at him, determined to kill the unkillable. 

You dodged the fireworks that he shot at you before you finally reached him. He dodged your flailing arms and the attempts to push him off from the stage with ease. “I SHOULD’VE KNOWN NOT TO TRUST YOU!” 

His shout was dismissed by you, not registering in your clouded mind at all. He grabbed your arms and threw you to the edge of the stage. Before you could get up, he stomped a foot down on your chest and pointed the rocket launcher at your face. You were not phased by this, grinning and laughing with insanity-filled glee.  “KILL ME TECHNO! DO IT, GO ON! FUCKING DO IT. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!”

He stared at you with the most anger you’ve ever seen from him before he pushed you off the stage with a simple kick of his foot. As you were plummeting to your death, you saw Technoblade point the rocket launcher at you before you saw the colorful rockets shooting at you. Your laughter ending abruptly with the explosion of fireworks and the thump of your bloodied corpse against the pavement was something the citizens of Manberg would never forget. 

Your brothers stared at your corpse as it disappeared with shock and anger. They never suspected you of all people to be a traitor, they thought you were the sweet, naive kid they knew growing up. They thought your allegiance to them would be unbreaking and you’d follow them blindly. Obviously, they were wrong. There was no saving you. You were too far gone. 

When you woke up with Schlatt and Quackity holding your hands at your bedside, all of the memories flooded back to you. They held you as you cried in frustration, wiping at your tears with gentle, reassuring smiles and loving words. Rage filled you as you remembered how they got away with their lives. You had one life left, and you were going to dedicate it to their downfall. Even if you died in the process. They should fear the day you return. There was no saving them from your wrath. 

[runawaymun]

Might I request Elrond x Platonic reader h/c and fluff fic, where reader comes home after a hunting trip etc. with a minor injury like a bump in the head or something and Elrond gets very fussy about it. Extra points for parent/child relationship cause I have problems.

Dad!Elrond x Platonic!Reader ~ Iris

Genre: hurt/comfort/fluff  Warnings: mild blood and injury cw (reader has a broken nose).  For: @tuuliii​ Reader pronouns: she/they

Sindarin Translations:  Ada - informal: dad/papa  Tithen pen - little one 

You’d spent most of the day out hiking in the surrounding woods gathering wild herbs and other plants for your own experiments. Usually you’re pretty sure-footed, but there had been a hard rain the night before and you completely misjudged how slippery a certain slope would be. The rain had loosened the soil and clay and you’d slipped, rolled down it, and managed to crack your nose-- which, in your opinion, was marginally better than spraining something. At least you’re capable of getting yourself back home.

Lindir walks past just as you cross the bridge back into Imladris and, as he turns to look at you, his eyes widen to saucer-proportions. You’re painfully aware that you look awful-- covered in mud from head to toe, hair askew, scrapes along your arms and and knees from where you’d broken your fall. And, of course, your nose was starting to swell. You’d managed to stop the bleeding on the way here but it had to be bruising by now.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks,” you insist. “I’m going straight to the healers. Don’t you dare tell Ada.”

Lindir swallows and you brush by him up the road and into the house. It takes some maneuvering (the last thing you want is to run into Elrond on the way in), and you garner more than a few concerned looks. When you reach the healing halls, you head for one of the unoccupied surgeries and find Mírion inside, mixing up some tinctures and poultices. You set your travel bag unceremoniously on one of the chairs and hop up onto the bed.

He turns to look at you, first taking in your disheveled state and then trailing to the floor, where you’ve tracked mud all the way in. 

“What happened to you?”

“Don’t ask. It’s too humiliating. Can you just patch me up before Ada sees? He’ll throw a fit.” 

“Lia will throw a fit about the floor,” he scolds. 

“Tell her I’ll mop it.”

He lets out a long-suffering sigh and gathers up a few items: bandages and plasters, a bowl of hot, clean water, and some honey and strong spirits and brings them over to the table by the bed. 

Just as he starts examining your nose, Elrond bursts in. 

“What happened?” he exclaims, rushing to your side. Mírion backs up to give him space as he takes your face in his hands, turning it this way and that, gray eyes filling with worry. 

Lindir is right behind him, hovering nervously in the doorway. You shoot him a betrayed look which he returns with a helpless (and rather apologetic) shrug of his own. 

Elrond prods the bridge of your nose with his thumb and you hiss in a breath at the sharp burst of pain. “Ai! Ada!” you try and brush him off but he won’t be moved. “I just had a nosebleed, that’s all.”

“It’s broken,” he scolds. “What were you doing?”

“I lost a fight with a riverbank,” you say dryly. “Slipped and fell. I’m fine.” Your nose, the treacherous thing, picks that exact moment to start bleeding again. You roll your eyes as his mouth sets into a thin line. He produces a handkerchief and presses it to the bridge of your nose. 

“Lean forward,” he commands, utterly unamused. You obey and replace his hand with your own, pinching to stem the bleeding and wincing at how that just makes everything hurt more.

Mírion slips out with Lindir and Elrond washes his hands and returns back to the bed to examine all the little bumps and scrapes, making little disapproving noises in the back of his throat. Once the bleeding has stopped he takes the handkerchief, sets it aside, and takes your face to glower at your eyes, then holds up a finger for you to follow. You do, glaring at it as he drags it left, and then right. Satisfied, he asks:

“Your ears are not ringing?”

“No, Ada.”

“And you aren’t dizzy?”

“No, Ada.”

“You did not lose consciousness when you hit your head?”

“No.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed to take cool, wet cloth and make you press it to your nose to help with the swelling, and then sets to work cleaning the mud out of all the little scrapes. “If your sight blurs or you begin to feel nauseous or have trouble sleeping, tell me.” 

“It’s a nosebleed,” you complain. Your voice sounds nasally even to your own ears.

“It could have been a concussion,” he clucks, “Or a septal hematoma and neither of those ought to be taken lightly. You are fortunate it’s not necessary for me to reset anything. You are not to go out on your own for the next week.” 

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” you mumble. 

“Which is why I am glad Lindir did,” he replies back, because with that superior hearing and experience raising two very mischievous twins, you have never ever been able to get anything past him. “And Mírion would have anyway. Sleep with an extra pillow to keep your head above your heart until the swelling reduces.”

You pout while he plasters up the scrapes, applying the alcohol as disinfectant and the honey and plasters where needed. If you’re honest, though, the attention is kind of nice, though you would never admit it out loud. 

“What were you doing climbing down a muddy riverbank in the first place?” he asks at last. “You know better.”

You have the decency to blush and you reach for your travel pack and pull out a now rather smashed up bouquet of purple crested irises. You’d seen them growing at the base of the bank and, to your credit, had actually gotten ahold of them before picking your way back out.

“I know how much you like them,” you say, but you’re far too embarrassed to look at him. 

He’s quiet for a bit too long, and when you glance up at him at last he looks completely torn between laughing, scolding you profusely, and crying. He takes them from you and kisses your forehead.

“You are so dear to me,” he murmurs. “Thank you, tithen pen. I love them.” He can’t keep from adding: “But you must be more careful.” 

“I promise not to go climbing down any riverbanks after it’s rained,” you say. 

“Good, but don’t think that will get you out of house arrest. You still are stuck here until I am certain you have not given yourself a concussion.” 

You sigh. He presses his hand to your head and hums a tune in the back of his throat, and you feel the pain in the bridge of your nose ease. He brushes your hair back from your face with another affectionate kiss to your still-muddy forehead and says: “I will bring you some new shoes before you get up so you avoid tracking more mud everywhere. Be sure to apologize to Lia and Lindir for the mess.”

“Yes, Ada.” 

He stands from the edge of the bed and takes the wilted irises over to the the poultice-mixing station to find a glass to stand them in, and the next time you go into his office, you find that he has dried them and put them in a vase as a permanent fixture on his writing desk. 

[cherienymphe]

Protect & Serve VIII (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Steve, graphic violence, mentions of noncon

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

It’s here, it’s here! This is the final part, and I’ve had so much fun writing this series! I’ve loved reading all of your comments at every twist and turn and I thank all of you who have interacted with this fic. Enjoy!

summary:  escaping an ugly past, you have no choice but to return home. While much has remained the same, Officer Rogers is a new addition who has won over the hearts of the town in your absence. And no one believes you when you start to see him for who he really is

~

The weeks that followed were a blur. You meant that in the literal sense. Steve kept you sedated and unable to even lift a finger against him for what felt like months, but in actuality it was only weeks. You were in and out of consciousness, something Steve enjoyed immensely, and every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Killian.

You saw his angry face and remembered how his absolute incompetence put you back at square one. You remembered the fear and the blood and the pain in your shoulder. Most of all, you remembered Steve’s hands on your neck. You remembered how it felt when you finally realized that he’d had every intention of killing you.

The fact that you’d made him angry enough to kill you made your stomach churn. You had foolishly thought that a fate similar to Peggy’s was off the table. Now you knew that you indeed could push Steve too far and he very well could snap and kill you. It occurred to you that to truly escape this, you might have to kill him.

You weren’t exactly keen on killing Steve. It wasn’t a moral issue. He was your captor and rapist after all, but if you killed him…you would never be able to go back to your life before this. He was a cop. A well loved one. His absence would be noticeable, and even if he weren’t, he had friends who were. Bucky and Sam would know it was you, and there was no doubt in your mind that they’d make you pay for what you did.

Sure, you could tell other police and the court the truth…but who would believe you? As corrupt as they were, it wasn’t outlandish to think that Bucky or Sam would plant evidence or fabricate a whole tale to make you look as guilty as possible. If you killed Steve, you’d either be on the run forever or looking at the inside of a prison for life, and that’s if you didn’t get a death sentence. The only way to truly prevent any of that was to kill all of his cop buddies right along with him and cover it up.

You were smart, but you weren’t ‘cover up a multiple murder’ smart. No matter how many crime shows you’d watched in your life.

So, you were back at square one. To even attempt to get back to your old life was to escape…again. That was something that was going to be near to impossible. You hadn’t just attempted to escape. You had escaped. You had succeeded. Steve now knew the extent of what you were capable of, and you knew that when he stopped drugging you, there would be no way you could ever get away from him. Not for a long time, and that wouldn’t bode well for you.

Steve took full advantage of the vulnerable state that you were in. You could never fight back when you woke up to the feel of him sliding into you during the early hours of the morning or late at night after he’d helped you shower. You could feel the affect it was having on you. You could feel the way your gut tingled and hands buzzed every time his hands met your skin. You couldn’t do anything but be complacent in it, and your body was growing to expect his touch.

The first day that you woke up with a sense of understanding that you hadn’t felt in a while, limbs feeling like yours again, was also the first day that you had thrown up. You knew it then before you’d even made it to the bathroom, knees harshly hitting the floor as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You were done by the time Steve woke up, and you said nothing as he rose to help you back into bed.

Your silent tears wet the pillow beneath your head as he settled behind you, arm thrown over your waist. Dread kept you awake all night, not even flinching when Steve’s alarm went off. He was going into the station today but had been on nothing but desk duty since you escaped in order for his thumb to fully heal.

You were handcuffed to the chair at the table as he fed you, and you were silent when he led you back upstairs to lock you in his room. He didn’t speak to you much now, and you were both thankful and weary of that. It gave you room to think, to scheme, but at the same time, you didn’t know what he was thinking. He fiercely pressed his lips against yours before closing the door behind him. You eyed the new and improved lock pad as it flashed red when the door shut.

You sat on the bed with a sigh, looking around the room with tearful eyes. There was nothing in here to help you escape. At least, not at first glance. You were officially out of time, and you had to leave and leave for good, successfully this time. It was only a matter of time before Steve caught on.

You didn’t need to take a pregnancy test to know that you were pregnant.

There was no telling how much harder Steve would crack down once he found out. Your stomach churned with more than just morning sickness at the thought. Body clean of drugs for the first time in weeks, you stood and paced around the room. The nightstand was glued down, and the drawer was glued shut. Frustration threatened to make you cry, but you took a deep shaky breath.

You wanted to tell yourself that you had a little time to come up with something, but another part of you argued that you didn’t. You not only wanted, but also needed to get out of here as soon as possible. You didn’t want to give Steve more time to find out about your condition and come up with more ways to keep you here. You wondered if he would take it to extremes… If he would put you in the basement just to keep you from leaving or harming yourself.

You stopped at that thought, and your eyes fell to the bathroom door.

Heart racing in your chest, you burst through the threshold, and your gaze flickered between the mirror and the glass shower door. You told yourself to take your time, that you had hours before Steve would return from work. You didn’t have to choose immediately, but you needed to figure out which would be easier to break.

Adrenaline at an all time high, you bent down to open the cabinet door, but it was also glued shut. You let out a frustrated scream before kicking it, tears kissing your eyes. Your eyes fell to the mirror again, and before you could comprehend your next course of action, you punched it…hard. You yelped in pain, clutching your hand as you eyed the tiny crack on the surface. It was hardly anything, but to you it was hope.

With another deep breath, you smashed it again, screaming in both pain and satisfaction when it broke, a few pieces clanking into the sink. You rushed to pull more pieces off, wincing as it sliced your fingers, blood falling from your hands. You held a nice sized piece in your hand, swallowing down the pain as you backed out of the room.

You stumbled to the bed, running your bloody hands all over the bedding. You eyed it with a frown, thinking to yourself that while it was a start, it wasn’t enough. You bit your lip, blinking a few times as you thought about what you needed to do. The wrist would be easiest, but that was too much of a slippery slope. If you cut too deep or too wrong, you could easily do something you had no intention of doing.

You considered your shoulder or leg, but God forbid you needed to go in the lake again, you’d need all of your limbs intact. With a shaky sigh, you lifted the oversized t-shirt that Steve had put on you, and you pressed the broken mirror piece to the inside of your thigh, right next to your core. You swallowed down a sob and jerked the jagged edge along your skin. It hurt so bad that you couldn’t even make a sound, only heavy breathing escaping you as you smeared your blood over more of the bedding.

You fell to your knees, ripping off a piece of the sheet before tying it around your thigh. It was painful with how tight you tied it, but it was better than bleeding out. On shaky legs, you pulled yourself back onto the bed, laying askew on the bloody sheets, one hand by your head and the other, the one with the shard of mirror, under the pillow beneath your head.

Now you waited.

Genuinely exhausted, you did drift in and out of sleep while Steve was gone. It wasn’t smart, considering you could still feel yourself bleeding, but it couldn’t be helped. You were lazily staring up at the ceiling when you finally heard Steve return. You felt your stomach swirl, but you swallowed it down and closed your eyes. You felt like you were going to throw up, and you prayed that you could keep it down.

You could hear him call your name, but you didn’t respond, and it wasn’t long before you heard his footsteps on the stairs. You evened your breathing, but there was nothing to do about the way your heart was going haywire in your chest. You hoped he wouldn’t notice, but there was no more time to ponder on that before you heard the door open.

Steve’s reaction was instantaneous. You heard his sharp intake of breath, and the bed was dipping and jostling as he joined you, reaching for you.

“Y/N.”

His strained voice reached your ears, and he pressed his ear to your chest. You tightened your grip as he slid his arm underneath you, pulling you up. His head was still on your chest when you opened your eyes and swung, just barely catching his shoulder right as he straightened in time to move back.

A hiss escaped him, and his hold tightened on you as you dug the broken shard into his arm. Anger contorted his features, but you swallowed your fear, yanking it out and aiming for his neck. His free hand reached to catch hold of your wrist, but your free hand pressed into his eyes. He yelped, reaching for that hand as he rolled.

You both landed on the floor in a heap, you on top of him, and you went to stab him again, but he shoved you off of him. Your back harshly met the floor, and you gasped in pain, struggling to push yourself to your feet. Shard still in hand, you made your way to the door, only to scream at the harsh tug on your scalp.

You gasped when your face was pressed against the hallway wall, Steve’s imposing frame pressed to your back. You pushed back against him, his back hitting the opposite wall, tears kissing your lashes as his arm snaked around your neck.

You kicked back against him, hitting at him, but his hold was firm. Grip almost painful around the broken mirror piece, you reached up and back, swiping it over whatever part of his face you could reach. You both screamed, him in pain and you in fear as he let you go, the bottom of the stairs fast approaching.

Pain traveled through you as you hit each step, landing on your knee at the bottom. You took in a shaky breath, a scream bubbling in your throat. You could hear Steve’s harsh breaths at the top, and you forced yourself to stand on unsteady legs. You could hear him behind you as you ran to the back door, hitting it in frustration.

It was locked.

“I wonder how much blood you lost pulling that little stunt…”

You spun around, back against the door as you eyed him. Even though you couldn’t see it, the way the top of his uniform stuck to his skin told you it was soaked with blood, more on his face, a nasty jagged cut traveling over his face, interrupted by his bleeding eye. You glared at him, pressing into the door even more as he stepped off the last step.

“I wonder when the dizziness will set in…the clouded judgement,” he hummed, a humorless smirk on his bloodstained lips.

You glanced around, considering your next course of action. Your gaze was drawn back to him when he moved, spreading his arms as he stared you down.

“What will you do now? Hmm? What’s your next move?”

He was mocking you, and your nostrils flared. He chuckled, taking a step towards you, blocking the entrance hall. He was also way too close to the kitchen. The only option was the doors behind you, but they were locked…but they were also 90% glass.

Your eyes met his hard blue ones, and the noise of the mirror shard hitting the floor traveled through the air. His smirk grew, but there was no trace of humor in his features. Despite what he’d told you before, you felt like if he caught you, he would really kill you this time.

With a deep breath, you turned and threw yourself through the glass doors. You hissed as glass shards dug into your skin, doing so even more as you pushed yourself to your feet. Steve was on you almost immediately, a growl escaping him as you fought against him.

He pushed you into the wooden porch railing, hand pressed against the back of your neck as he pushed your face onto it. You elbowed him in the stomach, and he huffed. You repeated the action, and his free hand grabbed your arm, pulling your head up so that your back was pressed to his chest. His breathing was labored in your ear, and yours fared no better.

Now that you were still, you realized that your body was screaming in pain. You couldn’t tell what hurt the most, and you wondered if you were able to get out of his hold, would you even be able to get away? Or would your body collapse on itself first?

“You know what happens now, don’t you?”

Steve’s voice was venomous, lips brushing your ear, and you jerked your head away. He swiftly spun you both around, making to force you back into the house, but with a scream, you threw yourself back, forcing him back too.

The world spun as you both flipped over the railing, hitting the ground and rolling down the small incline. You literally crawled towards the water on shaky hands and knees, tears of relief spilling over as water hit your shoulders. You could hear Steve screaming for you, his voice not far behind.

You were shaking from both the cold water and the sound of splashing water, Steve’s pursuit loud in your ears. The cold water seeping into your cuts and bruises didn’t help. Instead it felt like cool knives were being pressed into every injury. Steve was still hot on your tail, and you ducked underneath the dark water, pushing forward despite the lack of visibility.

It was only when you couldn’t hold your breath anymore did you come up for air. You spun around when you realized you couldn’t hear Steve, and panic gripped you as you realized he had gone under the water too. You looked around, eyes wide before going under again.

If you couldn’t see, you figured he couldn’t either. Not being able to see him put you on edge, but you swallowed down your fear and kicked towards the other side of the lake anyway. You came up for air again, face wet from water and tears as you rushed towards the tree line. You were being hunted, and the feeling was nauseating.

You kept your eyes on the tree line in front of you, only looking away when a familiar hand wrapped around your ankle. You flailed in the water as you were pulled under, firm hands grabbing at you. You kicked against him, but your injuries and the water made it difficult, and he had you in his arms as he pulled you both to the surface.

You were shaking, and you pressed your hands into his chest as one hand pulled at the roots of your hair, his other pinning you against him. You whimpered as he tightened his hold, painfully so, and his blue eyes looked almost black in the darkness. His lip curled over his teeth as he glared at you.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t drown you, right now,” he murmured.

Your lips trembled, more tears spilling over as you came face to face with your own mortality yet again. You knew that he could. You were injured and growing weaker by the minute. Not only that, but he would. Steve had killed before, dumped her in this very lake, and he’d almost killed you before too. His hold tightened, and bile threatened to come up your throat.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hold you under this water and leave you here…”

You could feel the short sentence lingering on your tongue. You knew that it was the only way to stay alive another day, another chance to escape. But you also knew that it would change everything. Telling him would keep you alive, sure, but it could also dwindle your chance of escape down to nothing.

“I…”

“You what?”

“I… I’m-I’m pregnant.”

Your voice was small, quiet even in the quiet outside, but Steve heard you loud and clear, eyes widening and grip loosening ever so slightly.

“…if you’re lying to me-.”

“I’m not!” you interrupted him, frantically shaking your head. “I’m not. I don’t think I’m far along, maybe some weeks, but… I’m sure of it.”

His whole expression changed, and your heart sank as you could literally feel what little freedom you had left slipping away. His face softened, and the hand on your back slid to your stomach, thumb grazing your skin through the shirt. His face suddenly hardened again, pulling you against him.

“You better hope that your great escape attempt hasn’t harmed it in any way.”

You bit your tongue, looking away. You grimaced as he yanked you along as he treaded back towards the house. Your knees buckled when you both made it onto land, but Steve’s hold kept you from falling. You shook as he leaned in to press his lips against the side of your face, your eyes closing in disgust.

“I know you think this little reveal will allow you another chance of escape, but I promise you… It won’t.”

You turned your head to glower at him, and he softly smirked, reaching up to brush his thumb along your bottom lip. His eyes were mirthful, and you suddenly felt like there was a hidden joke that you weren’t in on.

You were regretting your actions the previous night when you woke up the next morning in barely bearable pain. It hurt to sit up, but you did so anyway as you looked around, noting that the room was empty of a certain blond cop.

You thought that maybe he’d gone to work, but with a start, you realized that the bedroom door was open. You could faintly hear him downstairs, and wincing the whole time, you pushed yourself to your feet. Your steps were slow, body riddled with pain as you made your way downstairs.

You could hear him in the kitchen, and your gaze was drawn to the broken backdoor. You frowned, wondering why Steve suddenly seemed so much more lenient with your freedom. Surely, he figured that you’d attempt to just walk out? Before you could think on that anymore, he was exiting the kitchen, dressed in a simple flannel and jeans, looking deceptively domestic.

Your mouth parted when he greeted you with a kiss to your cheek. You frowned at him when he pulled away, and your mind swirled with possibilities. What had happened while you were asleep? Why did he seem more trusting? Happy even? Sure, you were pregnant, but surely Steve wanted to confirm that first. He had to be skeptical, so there was no way your condition had prompted this behavior.

“Come and eat breakfast,” he softly said, and you stumbled back.

You shook your head, eyeing him.

“What’s going on?”

His smile was small, secretive as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

“What’s going on is that I cooked breakfast and after last night, you need to get your strength back. Especially considering your delicate condition,” he hummed.

“A condition that you haven’t even confirmed. I know that the possibility of me being pregnant didn’t bring this on. You’re quite easy to read,” you told him.

He straightened, tilting his head at you like he would a child.

“Come eat-.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” you demanded.

His eyes clouded over as you stared him down, and his small smile transformed into a smirk. He suddenly spun you around, pressing his chest against your back as his lips kissed your ear.

“You want to know what’s going on? Fine.”

He pushed you along, and with dread you realized that you were approaching the basement door. You watched as he reached around you to unlock and open it, grip now tight on your arm as he led you down the stairs to the heftier door.

“I wanted to have a nice morning, you know? Have breakfast together, discuss the pregnancy, our future…”

He rambled on as he slid the bar from over the door, the door groaning as he pushed it open. Dread filled you as he continued, and you were suddenly very afraid.

“…but no. You wish to do this now? Fine. I suppose it’s best to get this over with so there will be no more misunderstanding about our life from here on out.”

Confusion filled you as you didn’t understand what he meant, but you did as soon as you stepped into the room. A choked scream escaped you, and you stumbled back, right into Steve’s waiting arms.

Your wide eyes met Wanda’s tearful ones as Steve wrapped his arms around you. You trembled in his hold, taking in the way Wanda was chained to the bed with her hands behind her back, a cloth tied around her mouth, muffled sobs escaping her at the sight of Steve.

His lips grazed your ear, and you jerked in his hold.

“You see…I do believe that you’re pregnant, or at the very least, I believe you think so. However, I don’t trust that you won’t put this child in harm’s way just to escape me. After all, you happily bled yourself and jumped through glass and over railings all the while knowing of your condition. You’ve proven to me that your freedom is your top priority,” he murmured.

Wanda was screaming at you, and even muffled, you could tell that she was saying your name, probably telling you to run. You shook your head in disbelief, the reality of this new development taking a while to sink in.

“This will ensure that you behave, that you obey me, that you give me everything I want. This will ensure our future…”

You couldn’t take your eyes off of Wanda as he yanked you along, feet tripping over each other as he forced you up the stairs. Your mind spun when he slammed the door shut, silencing Wanda’s muffled screams.

When your back met the hallway wall, your glassy eyes stared past Steve, feeling like someone had punched you in the gut. You slowly shifted your gaze to meet his own as he pressed his fingers against the wall beside your head, caging you in.

The tears finally spilled over when he smiled at you, smugness in every curve of his lips. He heaved a wistful sigh, blue eyes sparkling as he ran them over your defeated form.

“I love the feeling of coming out on top…don’t you?”

You balled your hands into fists, a sob caught in your chest.

“I…won…”

“No,” you sobbed, shaking your head, and he shushed you.

“I did. I won, Y/N.”

“No, no!”

You pushed against him, but he pushed back, pressing his chest against yours as he hummed.

“You weren’t above playing dirty, and neither am I. Pretending to be hurt? Making me think you were on the verge of death, if not already dead, just to attack me? That was low,” he slowly whispered. “…but I can go lower.”

You felt yourself falling, sliding down the wall, but Steve caught you.

“Woah, woah,” he cooed, brushing the tears away from your face as he drank you in. “You lost, sweetheart…but not without a fight, I’ll give you that.”

Your hands were on his shoulders as your chest heaved, body wracked with sobs. His eyes bore into your own, and you eyed the healing cut on his face.

“You were good…but I was better.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, and your face crumbled as the truth finally set in.

“You so much as step a foot out of this house without my permission…you so much as lift another finger towards me… If I even think that you’re intentionally causing harm to yourself, Ill hurt her.”

You shuddered.

“I’ll gift you with a finger or an ear…maybe even her tongue. Her health and safety is completely dependent upon you.”

Your head fell, eyes landing on the floor, but Steve pressed a finger to your chin, lifting your head so that his gaze met yours again. They were alight with triumph, a smug smirk dancing along his lips.

“Now…kiss me.”

Holding back another sob and left with no other choice, you leaned in and fearfully pressed your lips against his.

fin.

~

tags:  @xoxabs88xox  @darkficreposter   @mcudarklibrary @captainchrisstan @nickyl316h @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @readermia @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @opheliadawnwalker3 @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21  @stargazingfangirl18   @lou-la-lou @izzfizzh @thatgirly81 @autty0314 @hinata7346 @lokislastlove @honorarytenenbaum @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters  @autty0314 @saiyanprincessswanie​ @hurricanerin​ @jack-skellingtons-stuff​ @collette04​ @wandascarlett​ @simonedk​ @nellblazer​ @tricereads​ @d-whinchestergirl87​ @muse-of-chaos2​

[tsarisfanfiction]

Small Things

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, Gordon, Virgil

More self indulgent Scott&Gordon fluff because I can and because this scene’s been living in my head rent-free for the past week or so.  Might be the last thing I write for a while, because uni’s just decided to let me know I need to do 390 hours of independent study for a single module with the deadline in eight weeks, and if you’re any good at maths you’ll realise there’s a problem there (alternatively, stress might drive me to writing loads like January; we’ll see).  There are implications of some level of depression in here, so watch out for that.

When an injury leaves Scott unable to do even the most simple things for himself and accordingly frustrated, it takes a brother who understands what it’s like to halt the slippery slope.

Scott was no stranger to injuries, or the frustration of the recovery period.  He’d broken bones, torn open skin, and endured worse still, but that never made it easier – and definitely not this time.  This time, he was arguably mostly intact, and yet found himself helpless nonetheless.

Burnt palms – both of them, and fingers to boot – meant he couldn’t do even the simplest of tasks by himself.  Couldn’t dress himself, couldn’t eat, couldn’t do anything except wait for them to heal as he watched his brothers keep going out on rescues without him.

His family did what they could, Virgil in particular weathering the storm of his frustrations when they spilled over, but no matter how many little gadgets Brains designed to try and give him at least some independence, the fact still remained that he was useless and helpless.

Virgil was conked out on the couch, dead to the world despite his attempts to stave off exhaustion with caffeine in order to keep Scott company as he watched yet another movie – the only activity he seemed to be able to do without help. He’d wake up later, apologetic for passing out as though he hadn’t been on back-to-back rescues with any downtime swallowed up by fussing over his currently-helpless big brother, but for the moment, Scott was more than happy to let him sleep.

Not only did he need it, but the constant smothering was wearing thin.  Scott was active, self-reliant and tireless.  Even the most well-meaning assistance from Virgil – the one that helped him dress, cut his food, and all the other mundane tasks suddenly beyond his capabilities – was grating.  He’d already snapped at him a few times, the most recent of which had been in response to a suggestion he did his hair, moments before John had called in another rescue and Virgil had had to leave before Scott could swallow down the ire, leaving him wallowing in guilt for several hours until he’d returned, dirty and exhausted but still patiently trying to help.

It was an honest relief to see his brother sleeping, even if it left Scott balled up on his own couch, trying to ignore the bandages wrapped around his hands and focus on the movie. He was failing miserably, all too aware that the healing process was still in the early stages and that it would be several more days before he could even think of using his hands. Even with the regularly-applied gel, they still hurt.

The movie was, in theory, one of his favourites.  Virgil’s choice, after he’d huffed when asked if he wanted to choose.  Right then, he just wanted to turn it off and-

The holoprojection paused, right in the middle of one of his normally-favourite scenes, and he blinked. That hadn’t been his doing. Despite Brains’ best efforts, telekinesis was still eluding him.

“Hey, Scott.”  He turned his head to see Gordon jump down into the den. “Reckon you can do something for me?”

Scott held up his hands, in case Gordon had somehow forgotten.  “No.  Get Alan to help you with whatever it is.”

“Gotta be you, bro,” Gordon insisted, catching his wrists and tugging insistently.  “You don’t need your hands for this.”

Despite himself, Scott found that he was intrigued.  The promise of being able to do something was a powerful allure.  “What is it?”

“C’mon,” Gordon insisted in leu of answering, and warning bells rang even as his younger brother successfully pulled him to his feet.  Agreeing to help before hearing the details was always a no with this particular brother.  His appetite for pranks was insatiable, and sometimes his timing left something to be desired. Scott couldn’t handle a prank. Not right now.

“Gordon, what are you doing?”

“Trust me,” his brother replied.  Two words that often came with warning bells.  Scott knew Gordon, though.  Knew when trust me meant imminent pranking and warned that he should be running, and when he could genuinely trust whatever plan his brother had concocted. This was the latter, full sincerity with a hint of a plea behind it.

Trust was important in their family.  It had to be, for International Rescue to work.  Gordon knew that as well as any of them, and when he used that voice, it was always true.  Whatever he had planned, he believed it wouldn’t negatively impact Scott.

He sighed, and let his shoulders sag, feeling the tension start to seep away.  “Where are we going?”

Gordon’s hand was steady at the small of his back, guiding him gently through the house.  Towards the bedrooms, and Scott stumbled to a halt when Gordon stopped outside his room.  Of all the places he expected, his own bedroom was near the bottom of the list. “Gordon?”

“Come on, bro,” Gordon coaxed, opening the door and nudging him through it.  Scott let him, still confused, and found himself guided to his bed.  “Sit.”

Eyeing his brother, and still completely lost as to what he was planning, Scott obeyed.  His bandaged, useless, hands rested in his lap, and he glared down at them before glancing back up to see that Gordon had left his side and was rummaging around in his bathroom.

“Hey!”  What was he doing?

“Easy, Scott,” Gordon called back, turning around and returning.  In his hands were Scott’s comb and hair gel, two items that hadn’t seen the light of day since his hands got burnt so badly they couldn’t hold either.

Scott didn’t appreciate the reminder that, despite Virgil’s pleading, his hair was a sorry mess.

“What are you doing with those?” he demanded, starting to stand.  A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he found himself looking up into compassionate amber eyes.  Gordon gave him a small smile, barely a twitch of his lips but in that moment, it hit harder than his usual exaggerated expressions.

“Relax,” he said, clambering onto the bed and settling somewhere behind Scott.  Attempts to turn his head were prevented by gentle hands, keeping him facing forwards.  “I’ve got you.”

Scott’s mind was scrambling to work out what his brother had planned, and how this came into him doing anything for Gordon, but before he could finish putting the facts together there were gentle fingers in his hair, carding through softly and pulling wayward strands back from his face.

His immediate instinct was to pull away – he let his brothers do a lot, but his hair had always been off-limits, in no small part because it was an obvious target for Gordon and dye, but also just because it was.  Even now, he’d refused to let Virgil touch it.

“Gordon-” he started, and the fingers retreated, only for arms to wrap around his shoulders from behind. Soft, comforting, and a far cry from the crushing squid hugs his water-loving brother loved to dish out. A weight against his back, and then a cheek pressed against his.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw strawberry blond hair, and amber eyes looking at him.

“Let me do this?” his brother asked, in that exact same tone he’d used earlier for trust me. Sincere, but a little pleading.

“Why?”  His voice cracked, an unexpected show of weakness, and he flinched.  Gordon didn’t acknowledge it, seemingly content to let him pretend it didn’t happen.

“I think it’ll help,” he murmured instead.  “Please?”

Help who?

Scott didn’t see how letting Gordon do his hair would help anyone.  It wouldn’t heal the burns any faster, wouldn’t give him back his independence any sooner.

But he’d never been able to say no to a brother when they asked like that, all quiet and sincere.

“Don’t mess it up,” he caved, looking away.  He felt Gordon’s smile against his cheek anyway.

“Thanks, Scott.”

The arms retracted slowly, the cheek also leaving his, and he felt the mattress dip as Gordon shuffled back into position behind him.

Then the fingers were back in his hair, teasing out the tangles and knots that had formed with infinite patience and care.  The motions were soothing in their repetitiveness, Gordon’s fingers dexterous and nimble as they preened out the worst of the mess, and despite himself Scott felt a little more tension bleed away.

Fingertips found his scalp and dragged across lightly, almost a massage, for a few brief moments, before retreating entirely.

Then it was the teeth of his comb, running through strands slowly but steadily and pausing whenever they nudged a tangle Gordon’s fingers hadn’t completely erased.  Those, the comb bit into lightly, coaxing and cajoling the strands and never once tugging at his scalp.

Scott had no idea where Gordon had learnt to be so gentle with hair.

There was no mirror in view from where he was sat, but Scott didn’t need one to feel the weight of his hair slowly shifting, leaving its unkempt and chaotic tragedy and falling into the familiar style he favoured.  Without gel, the strands at the front attempted to flop forwards, over his forehead, and he resisted the instinct to swipe them back.

His hands wouldn’t thank him, and the hair would inevitably get tangled in the bandages, but what actually stopped him was the sensation of Gordon interchanging comb with fingers as he continued to smooth the hair back until it fell just right.  Gordon had asked to do this, and despite his initial misgivings, Scott found he was enjoying it.  No-one had done his hair for him since he was a kid, Mom fussing and asserting her right as his mother to do so.  Not like this.

Distracted by sudden memories, he missed the moment the comb left his hair for good, and startled slightly when the cool sensation of gel seeped through his hair.  Gordon had returned to using his fingers, smoothing his hair into position with a precision no doubt born of seeing it so many times, and Scott closed his eyes.

The touches steadily grew lighter, lingering for longer and ghosting over what were presumably stray strands that needed a little more gel to keep in place, until they left all together.

He opened his eyes as the mattress shifted, turning his head to see Gordon slipping off the bed, rubbing his hands with a towel to get the gel off his fingers.  Amber eyes surveyed his hair sharply, before Gordon gave another small, tender smile.

“Come on, bro.”  Hands cradled his wrists, carefully away from the bandages, and drew him to his feet.  “Now you get to judge my work.”

Scott let Gordon lead him to his bathroom, where the mirror hung above the sink.  It was something he’d avoided looking at for the past few days, aware of his deteriorating hair yet unable to fix it and unwilling to let anyone else until Gordon wormed his way in with softly pleading sincerity, but a light nudge over the threshold had him reluctantly facing his reflection.

He looked like himself.

There were still bags under his eyes from the sleepless nights, and his skin was still pale and a little haunted, but his hair was gelled back just the way he liked it – the way he laboured over it every day even when he forwent other aspects of self-care because he didn’t have time – and while it was only one thing, it was enough to banish the unkempt shadow he’d become and replace it with something blessedly familiar.  Blessedly normal.

Unconsciously, his back straightened, leaving him standing tall once again.

Gordon’s reflection joined his, standing alongside him as a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Any better?” his brother asked, worry in his eyes.  Scott tore himself away from his reflection to look down at the flesh-and-blood young man next to him.

“Yeah,” he admitted.  “Gords- what-?”

“When everything goes to hell, it’s the small things that make the difference,” Gordon said.  The reminder was bittersweet – Gordon, too, had once been unable to do even the most basic of tasks unaided.  “It helped me.  I thought it was worth a try for you.”

A sense of normality amongst an ocean of uncertainty.  Something to hold onto when he had nothing else.

Scott raised his arm, resting it lightly around Gordon’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” he murmured, looking back at the mirror where the man that looked much more like himself stood, arm around his little brother.  In hindsight, it was obvious; a lack of self-care was a slippery slope – one he’d seen Gordon fight before.

“I know you’d rather do it yourself,” Gordon continued.  “But remember, we’re here to help you.”  The hand on his shoulder squeezed for a brief moment.  “You just have to let us.”

Gordon looked relieved, Scott realised.  He hadn’t noticed how worried his younger brother had been until it was gone, but the story was there, behind smiling eyes and a steadily growing grin on his face.

“Thanks,” he said again. There was nothing else he could say.  Nothing that properly appreciated what his brother had done for him.  Was offering to keep doing, if Scott was reading him right.

He was usually pretty accurate when it came to reading his brothers.

“Could-” he started, mouth ahead of his brain.  “Could you-” He couldn’t quite get the words out, instincts still rebelling against asking for help – asking for this – despite it being freely offered.

“Keep doing it for you until you can do it yourself again?”  Luckily – in this particular instance – Gordon could read him, too.  Scott nodded jerkily.  “Of course.”

The hand on his shoulder moved, arm reaching around him until Gordon had him in a half-embrace.

“Welcome back, big bro.”

If Virgil had any thoughts about Scott letting Gordon help when he’d been refused at every offer, he kept them firmly to himself when he was woken by the pair of them returning to finish the movie.  Scott did, however, find himself subject to a bear hug, and relieved brown eyes looking him over.

In hindsight, it was obvious Virgil had seen what was happening all along, and Scott regretted getting snappy with him about it.  Virgil waved off his apologies, but did consent to go and get some proper sleep in his bed as long as Gordon promised not to leave him alone while he did.

The insinuation that he needed a minder should have grated.  Would have grated, half an hour before, when he was still a miserable mess curled up in the corner of a couch.  But as Gordon promised, solemn sincerity that Virgil could trust, and settled more comfortably on the couch with his arm around his shoulders, Scott just found himself thankful for how much his brothers cared.

[dameronology]

even in the darkest hour {javier peña x reader}

summary: javier comes home late one night after a rough day at work - luckily, you’re there to catch him when he falls 

warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol, death & swearing (this is javi, after all) 

also: my spanish is terrible. thanks to the english schooling system, my ability to speak it starts and ends with ‘i played football on the weekend with my brother.’ if there are any mistakes at all here, pls feel free to correct me! enjoy :D

- jazz

p.s this is my first javi fic so hopefully the characterisation is good but ?? who fucking knows honestly 

The heat was almost unbearable.

It clung to the air, hanging in the quiet of the Colombian night with an unwavering enthusiasm that made you regret spending so much on your useless air conditioning. Your sheets had been long thrown to the floor, crumpled at the bottom of your bed in a forgotten pile as you sprawled out on the mattress. Usually, sleeping in close such proximity to another person in this climate would have been hell but you couldn’t help but wish Javier was beside you. 

He had been working late all week - not by choice, but rather by necessity. He was integral part of the DEA but more importantly, he was an integral part of your ability to sleep at night. You hated that your sleep schedule had become so Peña-dependent but dammit, there was no coming back from the way he held you. 

It was quiet outside, which wasn’t unusual given that it was slowly approaching 2AM. Aside from the buzz of the crickets outside and the whirr of the occasional car passing by, there was a silence hanging over your bedroom. You could have recognised the sound of Javi’s Jeep pulling up from miles away; there was the crunch of footsteps up your front path and a moment later, the front door opened. 

Javi had a routine - a few, actually. If he’d had a good day, he usually would have kicked off his shoes and come straight through to your bedroom. You suspected, however, that that was not the case. The clattering of a glass against your kitchen counter, followed by what sounded like a bottle, rung through the air. Peña was a man of many talents and finding an excuse to drink at 2AM was definitely one of them.

‘Javi?’ You called. Slowly rolling out of bed, you pulled a strewn sheet around your torso and wondered out to the kitchen. The bright lights of the room burnt your bleary eyes for a moment, but your focus was on Javier’s tired face. ‘W’happened?’

He was tense - it was obvious in the way that he was stood, one arm pressing against the kitchen counter whilst his free hand clutched onto a drink. You immediately wanted to reach out to him, to wrap your arms around him and hope to whoever was above that he might open up to you. Javi had been better at doing that in recent months - isolating himself got old after a while, especially around you - but there were still times where he holed himself up. 

‘I’m fine.’ He murmured, taking a sip. ‘Go back to bed.’

‘Mierda.’ You muttered. Bullshit. ‘No fine person drinks at 2am.’

‘This one does-’

‘- Javier.’ You cut him off. ‘Don’t do this. Not now.’

‘Do what?’ 

‘Ice me out.’ You replied. ‘`I thought we were past that.’

Dropping his drink back to the counter with a force that almost made you jump, Javier turned to face you. He looked beyond shattered - you’d only heard minute details of what he experienced at work and just listening to his stories was enough to exhaust you. You couldn’t bring yourself to imagine what experiencing that shit firsthand was like.

‘We are.’ He murmured. ‘I’m sorry, cariño.’

‘Hey.’ You took a step closer to him and he naturally reached to take your hands in his. ‘Don’t say sorry. I’m here if you need me but I’d never force you-’

‘- we lost someone.’ Javier cut you off. His voice wobbled slightly when he did, emotional in a way that you’d never heard him before. ‘A kid - I mean, not a kid, but...a younger agent. Much younger than me.’

‘Javi.’ You murmured. ‘I’m sorry.’

Opening up was still new to him - having you was still new to him. He was used to solving his problems by drowning them in alcohol and silence or fucking them out of his system with a hooker. Finding a healthy form of catharsis was something he was still working on.

Javi pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your torso as though you were the one that needed support. In a way, it did make him feel better - when he was reminded of how terrible the world could be, his immediate instinct was to try and protect you from it. Even if he was the one who was hurting, his instincts made him think of you first. 

‘He was there one minute, making some shit joke with Murphy and then he was gone.’ He dropped his head into your shoulders, hands gently raking up and down your back. ‘He had a wife and a kid and...now he’s gone.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ You said. ‘Your job is difficult - dangerous.’

‘I know.’ He replied. ‘It just made me think about what would happen if that we were me. Or worst, if somebody wanted to hurt me and came for you-’

‘- don’t think like that.’ You cut him off. Gently taking Javier’s face in your hands, you tilted his head down and forced him to look at you, to make eye contact and just listen. ‘You can’t think like that, baby.’

‘It’s just...’ Javi peered down at you, brown eyes unwavering as they held your gaze. ‘Rough night, you know?’

You offered him a small smile. ‘I know - but those are all ifs and buts. The reality is that I’m here, alive and well and a little tired.’  

If there had been one pitfall that Javier had found in your relationship, it was the constant worry. He had a careless demeanour but inside, he was always thinking about you - it was usually in a good way but sometimes, he fell down a slippery slope that caused him to panic. After finally letting himself become attached to you, and after finally giving up his pride to admit that (contrary to popular belief) he was capable of love, he couldn’t lose you. He’d rain hell on anyone that even looked at you wrong. 

Javier glanced down at his drink, and then back to you. He slid the glass away, letting it carelessly collide with the wall. 

‘C’mon.’ He tangled his fingers with yours. ‘I’m fucking exhausted.’

A sentiment you certainly shared.

You were the first to collapse into your bed, tiredly watching as Javier threw his clothes onto the empty chair by your window. That was one thing about Peña that you were willing to complain about: his chairdrobe tendencies. The amount of times that you’d almost broken your neck by tripping over his strewn shoes was comical. 

Javi dropped onto the mattress beside you. You naturally moved closer towards him, letting him taking you in his arms and hold you to his chest. Again, it came more from his protective instincts - the same reason he slept closest to the door - but the feeling of holding you after a long day was the highest form of pain relief. 

‘Te quiero.’ He muttered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. ‘I’ve always got you.’

‘I know.’ You sighed sleepily, voice muffled by his chest. ‘I love you too.’

tags: @highlycommendable​ @wolffescadet​ @catsnkooks​

[donttouchmeimwriting]

Argo ch. 4

Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship

3326 words, 3rd person POV

Took a little bit of a breather so I don't burn out because this one is big! I'm going to have some mature content in future chapters btw so the rating will bump to 18+ for those. I will mark the chapters with that content appropriately so minors please do not interact with them!

Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat

...

Some weeks passed and Jason and Lijah had gotten quite comfortable with their new routine. Jason had started to come by early every evening and leave before midnight every night, though Lijah still occasionally fell asleep while he was still there. Jason didn't mind these times. He took them as opportunities to watch Lijah without question or making him feel self conscious, as Jason rather liked the way Lijah looked and never grew tired of seeing his face. He still had sporadic thoughts of inappropriate things, but those showed up more now when he was alone and only thinking of Lijah.

The thoughts were troubling nonetheless, as Jason often found his mind wandering to daydreams of Lijah in the shower or how swallowed up by Jason's arms he would be if he held him. He even had thoughts of kissing Lijah, wondering just how soft those lips would feel. The images were innocent enough, but Jason still worried that he was sliding down a slippery slope by having them at all. He could hear Mother's voice in the back of his mind explaining how this was only the beginning. It would start with innocent curiosity and then, before he knew it, he would be consumed by lust and never be able to return home. The most troubling part about it all was that there was a frighteningly big part of him that didn't want the thoughts to stop.

In the silent moments that Lijah was asleep while Jason sat with him, Jason's strongest desires were to touch him. He didn't feel that these yearnings were particularly wrong in that he was only really interested in touching Lijah's hair and face, but he resisted out of concern for the progression of these urges as well as not wanting to wake Lijah. Still, the allure of his soft looking woody brown locks and even softer looking freckled skin called to him, inspiring a great many of his fantasies.

There was also the worry that Lijah would start to hate him like everyone else did. He was terrified that the instant he removed his mask, Lijah would never want to see him again. He could feasibly tolerate his presence now, but if their relationship progressed into something else, then what? Could Lijah stand to be with the monster who murdered so many people? The freak with a face so repugnant it instilled a murderous intent in others? Jason couldn't stand to think of betraying Lijah, but he also wished to find some kind of happiness for himself.

In the beginning, if Lijah fell asleep next to him, Jason would leave soon after to let him rest, but as their friendship went on, he would stay for at least an hour to enjoy the peacefulness of the arrangement. He would sometimes read one of Lijah's books, though usually he would sit and enjoy the calm atmosphere of existing in a safe location with a trusted friend. It was through these quiet nights that he learned Lijah was a sleep talker, and a relatively clear one at that. It had startled him the first time it happened; Jason thought that Lijah had woken up. He quickly understood that they were mumblings of a blissfully unaware Lijah, and soon came to enjoy listening to the odd phrases he would come up with while dreaming. A request to place a bag of fruit on a shoe rack, a denial of cream cheese spaghetti, occasional laughter...it was all somewhat funny to Jason until he heard his own name.

Lijah called out to Jason quite a few times in his sleep, increasing in frequency as time went on. The scenarios were often mundane - asking Jason to move from the hallway or how he was doing. Jason paid close attention any time these dreams occurred, curious about what Lijah was seeing. One instance, however, caught his attention like none of the others had before.

Lijah was sleeping curled up on his side, facing the wall. Jason was reading the final chapter of one of the adventure novels and the scene was coming to a thrilling climax. He heard Lijah murmur his name and turned to see if he was awake, as was the norm. Lijah's eyes were closed and he drooled slightly on the pillow, answering that question instantly. Jason returned to his book, but kept his ears focused on any further commentary.

"Don't go," Lijah whispered, his voice tinged with unmistakable sadness, "...want you...stay with me, Jase...please..."

His full attention now on Lijah, Jason's pulse quickened. He wasn't sure what to do to alleviate the distress Lijah was having in his dream. Eyes searching for a solution, Jason found himself fixed on a section of hair that had fallen across Lijah's face, hanging over his eyes and nose. Clenching his jaw muscles and praying he did not wake him, Jason reached out to push the hair off Lijah's face. He hesitated before touching him, beginning to panic, but then Lijah sighed his name again, his eyebrows furrowed with whatever upsetting images he was forced to see. Jason took a deep breath to steady his hand, then gently brushed the hair back.

Lijah's hair was even softer than Jason had previously imagined, like a young deer's fur. He couldn't resist running his fingers through to the ends, watching them slide effortlessly as if he were passing his hand through tall grass. Lijah's expression instantaneously relaxed as Jason combed his fingers through his hair, and he tentatively repeated the action. He stroked Lijah's hair several times like this, slowly, tenderly, fascinated by its soothing effect on him. Soon, Lijah had slipped back into a deep sleep, looking more comfortable than before.

Jason, on the other hand, could not be more energized. His touch was good for something other than bringing pain and death. He could be gentle and comforting. He had been uncertain before, but this proved it. He was capable of changing after all, not just in his mind.

He could not remain in the room for long after, his energy much too high to sit still or move quietly enough to not wake Lijah, so he left earlier than he wanted to. He spent this wild energy in the woods that night, hunting and trapping small animals to add to his own campsite's food stores. He felt deliciously alive in a way he was not used to.

-------------------------------------------------

Jason didn't tell Lijah about the nightmare. He worried that it might unnerve him that he stayed in the room while he slept, and Jason's top priority at the moment was keeping Lijah's favor. He had never really had crushes before, having no one around other than Mother, and could now somewhat understand that intense desire to be around the other person and ignore the world. Before now, he wasn't even sure that men could be attracted to each other. It was never in the stories Mother told him, and he had never seen it in his few ventures to the camp. He thought it must be extremely special, given that it was not as prevalent, and wondered why he hadn't heard of it before. Perhaps it was only heterosexual couples who were sinful and needed to be bound by marriage to erase that sin? He determined he would look into it later if it became an important question.

The desire to touch Lijah's hair again became much stronger after doing it once, however, and Jason resisted the urge each time he saw him. He could feel Lijah getting suspicious though, and didn't want to hide his feelings for much longer. What would Lijah think if he told him he liked him? He had told Jason he wasn't interested in dating anyone, and Jason was almost certain Lijah was only interested in a friendship with him. He wanted to at least tell him he wanted to explore a more sensual relationship, holding hands and hugging, perhaps, but he wasn't sure how to express that without seeming creepy. While he had no idea how romantic relationships worked, Jason had only the slightest inkling of how friendships worked, and didn't want to ruin this one by saying something weird.

One rainy evening, Lijah returned to the cabin with more energy than usual, claiming it was a slow day with the kids due to the weather, and he got to relax for most of it. This led to him excitedly showing Jason one of his favorite movies on VHS, setting up the living room with popcorn, extra blankets, and soda (though Jason politely declined the beverage and requested a water instead). Mother never showed Jason movies like this at home; he wasn't even sure they owned a VCR. When he was younger, they did have a TV and he would watch the occasional broadcasted movie, but once it broke, they never replaced it. As a result, he never cared much about catching up with popular media. There were chores to complete and plenty to do outside, so he'd never needed the extra entertainment. Still, it was nice to see Lijah get so worked up by watching the story on the screen, and Jason found it interesting as well.

The pair moved back to the bedroom once the movie was over, Jason having helped Lijah clean up the living room first, and Jason quietly read as Lijah did his bedtime routine. Jason had noticed he was growing rather smelly lately, more so than usual. He never cared much about hygiene - the smell didn't tend to bother him - and bathed infrequently with little water from creeks. Being around Lijah, who smelled so pleasant all the time, however, Jason was picking up on his own scent a little more, and found it potentially offensive. He remembered Lijah offering the shower to him, and contemplated using it at least a couple times a week so as not to offend his nice smelling friend who was surely not saying anything to avoid hurting his feelings. When Lijah returned from the bathroom, Jason wrote,

"can i use it to?"

"Use what?" Lijah asked, still toweling his hair dry, "The shower? Yeah, absolutely! There's plenty of soap in there and an extra towel. If you want, while you're in there, I can sneak over to laundry to wash your clothes for you too."

There it was. Jason grimaced. He was slightly embarrassed by offending Lijah, but grateful that he was being so casual about it. He nodded and awkwardly shuffled around Lijah to get to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, sighing deeply. He began undressing, becoming more uncomfortable feeling that his shirt stuck to his skin. How had he gone this long without noticing? He found the spare towel Lijah mentioned and wrapped it around his waist to cover himself before opening the door to pass his dirty clothes out to Lijah. Lijah took the pile, cheerful as always, and promised to be back soon. Jason was trying to avoid making eye contact, but he saw that Lijah's cheeks flushed when he was met with the sight of Jason in the towel. What could that have been about?

Enclosed in the bathroom once more, Jason dropped the towel next to his boots and removed his mask, placing it on the sink. This room was even smaller and more cramped than the other rooms in the cabin, leaving barely any space for his large frame to navigate. It was a simple setup of only the essentials: a toilet, a sink with a mirror over it, and a narrow shower stall. Jason stepped inside the stall and pulled the curtain behind him. The air still smelled of clean steam from Lijah's shower: a calming scent. Jason had some trouble figuring out the knobs, but managed to get the water running. The spray felt glorious on his skin, and he took a moment to bask in the warmth of the water. Certainly, this was a feeling he could live with a couple times a week.

Once he was done washing and rising the soap from his body, Jason turned the water off and stepped out, feeling almost brand new. He dried himself with the towel, but had not heard Lijah come back in yet. He put his mask back on and tentatively opened the door, keeping the towel tight on his waist. He peered out, but there was no sign of Lijah yet. The laundry room was probably in a different area of the camp, he considered, and it would take a little time for him to get back. Jason retrieved a book from the bedroom to occupy the time while he waited.

Lijah did return shortly after, bringing with him Jason's now clean clothes. He handed them off, blushing still, and left Jason to get dressed. What was getting him so flustered? Jason rejoined Lijah in the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

"How do you feel?" Lijah asked, fidgeting with the ends of his hair.

Jason nodded and gave a thumbs up gesture, admittedly feeling much better now that he was completely clean (and smelling almost as good as Lijah).

"Good! I've gotta say, though, that's some tough material. I wasn't sure the washer could handle it."

He touched Jason's arm as he spoke, feeling the fabric of his jacket. Jason stiffened, caught off guard by Lijah's touch. Lijah immediately retracted his hand, his eyes worried.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "Was that wrong?"

Jason thought a moment, but then felt the strong yearning he'd had before to touch Lijah and run his fingers through that soft hair again. He shook his head, but felt a sudden, unexplainable distress that shortened his breaths. He reached for Lijah, who did not flinch or move away, and wrapped his fingers around his slim upper arm. Lijah's skin was so soft, so compliant to his touch...Jason released a shuddering sigh at how nice it felt. Lijah touched his arm again, running his hand up to Jason's shoulder.

"Wow, you're super touch starved, aren't you?" he said, giving Jason's shoulder a squeeze. Jason had never heard of the expression, but it made sense to him. Wanting to feel Lijah ached like a hunger, and being touched by him satisfied that hunger. He nodded, rubbing Lijah's arm as gently as he could, but still pushing him slightly from sheer size difference.

"Can I hug you?" Lijah asked, "I think that'll help the most."

Jason nodded, a little too exuberantly, and Lijah pulled away from him to hop off the bed. He faced Jason, his expression unreadable, then climbed up onto Jason's lap, straddling his thighs, and pulled him into his arms. Jason gave a small grunt of surprise, but melted into Lijah's embrace, clutching him tightly. The feeling was indescribably soothing and overwhelming at the same time, sending tingles throughout his body. How was it that Lijah always knew what he needed?

It was undeniable at this point that Jason loved Lijah. He loved everything about him. He loved the feeling of Lijah's breath against his neck. He loved that he was so small and delicate compared to Jason, and he loved holding him close. His scent was all Jason could perceive outside of the embrace and the sound of rain tapping on the roof of the cabin, that light, clean scent he could never get enough of. This moment was perfection to Jason. The only thing that could make it even better was...no, he shouldn't wish for such indecent things, especially not when this felt so wonderful. He also knew that there was a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. He wasn't sure how to tell the difference, but assumed he would know if it happened. So far, he knew he loved Lijah, but didn't think he was in love with him (yet).

Lijah pulled back slightly to be able to look at Jason. His face was placid and reflected the happiness Jason felt.

"You've got some big, strong arms," he said, rubbing Jason's upper arms as he spoke, "I bet you're a fantastic cuddler."

Jason shrugged. He would not know, but from the way Lijah said it, he would like to find out.

"Gosh, you're cute," Lijah mumbled, "You don't even know how worked up you get me, do you? I'll give you a hint...I can't get that image of you in that towel out of my head and I don't want to."

He ghosted his fingertips over Jason's mask, his eyes lowered to where Jason's mouth would be under it.

"Is it all right if I take this off?" he whispered, "I would really like to kiss you right now."

The thought of kissing Lijah made Jason's heart flutter, but he did not want to frighten him with the face that earned him so much hatred as a child. There was also the matter of what his mother would think, with Lijah's bottom so dangerously close to his most private area, tempting him with physical pleasures. Would she be upset? Or would she not mind as much, given it would only be a kiss? At this point, it was not a question of whether or not Jason wanted it, but rather should he give in to what he wanted and disrespect his mother's wishes?

Pulse racing as he began to run out of time for an answer, Jason forced himself to make a decision. It would just be a kiss, right? There was no need to overthink. Definitely no need to read too far into what he said about the towel...He lifted his hands and slowly pushed the mask up to just under his nose. He could no longer see Lijah like this, but he didn't need to.

Lijah did not hesitate to close the space between them. He didn't kiss the way Jason had seen others before. This wasn't sloppy or aggressive...it was soft and warm and sent tingles throughout Jason's entire body...it felt nice. He slid his hands up Lijah's back as he dissolved into the kiss, an intense blush creeping into his cheeks. Lijah in turn pressed his hands to the sides of Jason's neck, holding him just as close. The slight movement of their lips together felt so incredible....Jason almost forgot that this was supposed to be wrong. He curled his fingers into Lijah's t-shirt and sighed softly as their lips parted. He didn't want this to end.

Lijah pulled back, Jason leaning forward as he went, not yet ready to stop. Lijah laughed, that beautiful, musical laugh that made Jason feel wonderfully weak, and playfully pushed his face away.

"Give me some air, big guy!" Lijah giggled, "Believe me, I want more too."

Jason pulled his mask back down so he could see his breathless partner. Lijah's face was flushed and he smiled serenely at Jason, resting his forearms on Jason's broad shoulders. Jason couldn't help but to smile himself. Was this how normal people felt all the time? Was this what it felt like to be attractive and wanted? But then again...Lijah felt this way about him as he was. He was attractive to him.

Jason thrust Lijah to his chest, hugging him tightly.

"Whoa!" Lijah cried out, startled by the sudden movement, "Easy there! You okay, Jase?"

Jason nodded into Lijah's shoulder, giving his body a brief squeeze. Lijah grunted softly and gave another short laugh.

"Remember how small I am," he said, returning the hug, "I don't mind getting a little manhandled but don't break me."

Jason couldn't fathom breaking Lijah. He wanted to keep him and protect him from the everything. The little kisses Lijah planted along Jason's neck were more valuable than any luxury he could imagine and touching their foreheads together fulfilled him more than any prior achievement he'd made. He was in bliss, and that bliss was named Lijah.

[doctorreids]

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER EIGHT - august 

previous chapter | next chapter 

word count - 1.7k 

a/n - see @ the end ! 

warnings: slight sexual content, nothing explicit though. 

“i never needed anything more, whispers of ‘are you sure?’ ‘never have i ever before.’”

The glare of headlights filtered through his car as he drove down the main street, few cars passed. Red and green lights mixed together as he reached each stoplight.

The reality of what he was about to do hit him, just 20 minutes from her apartment he thought about turning back.

The ‘what if’s’ swirled around in his head. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he truly hadn’t changed and he was just kidding himself? What if she was better off without him?

He would be lying if that last thought didn’t make tears pool in his eyes.

The late-night drive, however, did remind him of August's past. When he pulled up outside her apartment when they had the rare week off and told her to get in. Alex Blake had kindly given them the use of her beach-side Hampton’s summer home. The five-hour drive stretched well into the night.

He could remember her laughter in the passenger seat and her soft snores as they travelled down the highway. Talking nonsense and playing ‘I spy’ to pass the time before the sun began to set, the sky turning from blue into a purple-pink sky with red hues.

Before she drifted to sleep she turned towards him and whispered, “Red sky at night shepherd’s delight, red sky in the morning shepherd’s warning.”

The memory made him smile.

It also made him wonder if this was worth it. If he was too late.

…

“So you’re telling me you’ve never played ‘Never Have I Ever’?” She giggled.

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’, he shrugged.

Pulling herself onto his lap, she peered up at him.

“Well then,” she sighed comically, “guess I’m just going to have to take your Never Have I Ever virginity! Pass me the wine.”

Tipsy and thinking nothing of it, he passed her the wine.

Hours passed and the questions got dirtier and dirtier. No longer did he blush or feel awkward at her suggestive comments, he made them himself.

They were both slurring, roaring with laughter at times. He had never felt more whole.

“Awk, Spencer, pick your jaw up from the floor.” She straddled him, her finger traced along his jawline.

He smiled up at her before pressing his lips to hers. His hands rested on her hips, she was fully pressed into his chest. She toyed with the buttons on his shirts as he kissed her neck.

He could not describe the utter state of bliss he was in; all he could feel, see, and hear was her. Her soft whimpers at his touch, her soft butterfly kisses on his chest, her bright eyes staring back at him, so full of love and adoration. He never wanted that feeling to end. He had never felt braver as he slipped off her top, placing kisses down her stomach and her thighs, watching her body react to his touch and the soft gasps that escaped her lips. He was on a high that he believed would never end, her touch was like ecstasy, he was filled with complete euphoria.

Whispered ‘I love you’s’ passed between them, he finally knew how it felt to be a teenager falling in love for the first time. She was his true first love. She was the kiss under the bleachers that he never got. She was the prom date he had waited for. He felt 13 years younger with her - shy, bashful and unsure.

The universe and all its questions had all its answers when he was with her.

“august slipped away into a moment in time, cause it was never mine, and I can see us twisted in bedsheets, august sipped away like a bottle of wine.”

The memory of the past August made him smile. They spent the day on the beach, reading and Y/N pulling him into the water despite his protests of it being too cold. They cooked together, showered together, and spent every other moment with each other. If he thought hard enough he could still remember the smells of the local Italian restaurant, the smell of each bottle of red, white and rose wine they drank. He could recall every word that was said.

“I love you.”

“The earth has rotated roughly 212.9 times in the seven months we’ve been together.”

“Not a more accurate figure, no?”

“I’m not a calculator, my love.”

He laughs audibly at the memory. He took so much for granted; how she would listen to his ramblings about everything and anything, especially things she didn’t understand. She would listen so intently, her eyes following his every word and gesture, and she would try her best to talk about astrophysics or whatever his chosen topic was in her own vocabulary, in a way she could understand.

She thought his mind was amazing, he thought her mind was too.

She was patient. She was kind. She was kind.

The memories don’t feel like they are his. They are only a slippery slope into madness. Tempting him back to the days of curling up on his sofa clutching some novel that reminds him of her.

His copy of Pride and Prejudice is now completely worn as he finds himself reading it over and over, remembering the sound of her voice of one summer afternoon in which she read it to him.

He had it memorised cover to cover but he couldn’t bring himself to read it aloud, only her voice could gently relay one of the greatest love stories of all time. A story he had hoped they would rival.

Maybe it was too big of fantasy to maintain hope but without hope, he was lost.

He didn’t feel as though he owned the memory of the past August. Almost as though he was out of his own body, watching it happen. Watching things be so perfect and then watching them fall apart. It was a vicious cycle.

“your back beneath the sun, wishin’ I could write my name on it.”

The morning sun flooded the room as he rolled over to face her. The thin white curtains did little to keep the light out. He couldn’t figure out what time it was and he couldn’t be bothered to look at the small alarm clock beside him.

Her back faced away from him, soft snores came from her mouth. He traced his finger all so gently along the lace of her nightdress to the base of her neck, along the straps and soft cotton material. The sun illuminated her skin, an angelic halo encircling her.

Not even Michelangelo could paint something so heavenly.

Each time he looked at her he felt winded. He was not one to dwell on luck, he focused rather on what was guaranteed and soundproof, but he knew he was so lucky to call her ‘his’. To be able to hold her, to watch each sunrise and sunset with her, was everything to him.  

It was at this moment he decided on their future - the girl before him was the woman he knew he was going to marry. Someday, he promised himself.

“I can practically feel you burning holes into my back, Spence.’ Her laugh cracked with sleep as she turned to face him.

They lay there for a few moments holding each other’s gaze, irises swimming with love. He grabbed her waist, a soft muffled hum as she rested her hand on his chest.

“I can also hear you thinking. Penny for your thoughts?” Her voice was gentle.

He hummed.

“I think you can hear my aching head rather than my thoughts, sweetheart.”

“Aw, does poor Doctor Reid have a sore head?” She teased.

Lifting her head with his index finger, he said, “Now, what did I say about calling me Doctor Reid.”

“Ah, yes. How could I possibly forget! At least one of us can remember last night with some degree of clarity.”

He laughed, “I just have a hangover, I remember everything. Not like you on some of your girl’s nights with Garcia.”

Pulling her pillow from underneath her, she hit him with it.

“You promised you wouldn’t speak of that!” She groaned.

“And you promised you wouldn’t call me unless…” He trailed off.

He wished he could stay there forever as their laughter mixed together.

…

There are moments after laughing, those deep belly laughs, where silence fell upon them both and she would look at him with that mischievous look in her eye and he would fall over and over again.  It was pure, unadulterated joy as they caught their breath.

These are the moments he wishes more than anything that he could live once more.

The empty passenger seat reminds him of the silence of their apartments as they grew further apart. It reminds him when she would sit there and stare out the window without as much of a glance towards him. It also reminds him of the drive home from their august trip. She was glowing, happily chewing on a piece of candy or eating the Cheetos they’d specifically bought for JJ and claiming she would buy more packs when they got back. (She never did.)

Time seemed to slow as each stop light turned red. The drive extended by a few extra minutes. More time to psych himself out. To tell himself to turn around. To remind himself that she wasn’t his to lose.

She was her own person, it was the reason he loved her so. She couldn’t be owned by anyone. In another way, neither could he. Maybe it’s why they clicked together like missing pieces of a puzzle. It’s a possibility why they fell apart so quickly, those pieces must have gotten lost somewhere along the way.

He no longer felt the anxiousness of before, determination surged through his veins. Each red light he stopped at reminded him of each mistake, each time he missed the cracks and signs. This time, he promises himself, he would be better.

He took the next right, knowing that she was 10 minutes away.

He was 10 minutes away from either making the best or worst decision of his life.

600 seconds away from his heart’s home.

799.

798…

--

a/n: hi guys!! sorry for the long wait - results week was very weird for me, and i had to get my grades reassessed and that was another week before i found them out too (which i went up to 2A*s and an A which was way more than what i originally got) which was amazing! i’ve just been going through a rough patch mentally and i’ve been busy sorting out university etc. i feel as though i owe you all an apology for not updating as often - this chapter just took it out of me but i’m looking to update at least weekly or maybe twice a week!! thank u for all the support it means so much <3

taglist: @itsfangirlmendes @toosassy2handle @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @rexorangecouny @myheartbelongsintz @toizerdecker @baddestbau​ @haylaansmi​ @hess016 @blameitonthenight21​

[straight-outta-kaer-morhen]

Silver & Scars <Chapter 3>

This is the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written. I guess I was in some type of mood this week? Anyways, maybe Eskel is too playful in this? Might be a bit out of character? Idk let me know what you guys think!

Chapter 3: The Drowner Contract

"Let's talk about my reward." Her lips were pulled into a coy smile. 

Eskel attempted to keep his grin at bay. It was clear she knew how Witchers worked, and found amusement in teasing him. He stepped closer to her, leaning down, his voice husky against her ear, "and what kind of reward do you seek?" 

Amber eyes watched her body involuntarily shudder. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, "a book." She breathed. "I can't seem to find a copy in Vizima." She explained. "If you ever find a copy during your travels, all I ask is that you bring it to me when you get the chance."

Eskel pulled away, surprised at the simple request, "and if I can't find it?" 

She just shrugged as she grabbed the kettle from the fire, "every year that you come back without it you'll have to spend the day with me, doing whatever I want." 

The (petite/lean/curvy) sorceress was cunning. Pulling him back to her doorstep with an innocent promise. Eskel couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for the woman, and a possible friendship with her warmed his heart. He could only imagine what kind of hoops the woman would have him jump through, but he found himself eager to please her. “Deal.”

She stuck out her small hand for him to shake, an amused smile pulled at his lips. All of his contracts refused to touch him on the account they believed him to be a monster, but here was a woman who appeared as a delicate flower standing before him eagerly waiting for the transaction to be sealed. He took her hand, and was surprised to find a firm grip. 

“Negotiating is quite the thrill.” She commented. “I think I would make a wonderful Witcher.” She teased as she turned to pour two cups of tea. 

A laugh bubbled inside Eskel’s chest, “Perhaps Vesemir will take on another trainee.” 

“Is Vesemir the head of your school?” (Y/N) inquired, leading him to two chairs in front of the fire. 

“Yes, he trained Geralt and I.” Eskel said, taking a seat across from the sorceress. 

“Geralt?”

“We grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.” Eskel explained. 

“I had brothers,” the (h/c) mused. “A long time ago.” She added.

They spent the better part of the evening in each other’s company. Neither one wanted to admit they were tired. The comfortable conversation the two had conjured was magical. Both feared that if  either stepped away it would break the chemistry the two shared. 

It was Eskel who suggested sleep when he noticed the sorceress’s drooping eyes. She had stubbornly refused, and Eskel found himself carrying the (petite/lean/curvy) woman to bed after she fell asleep in her chair. 

*

**

*

The pair had made their way to the docks early the next morning. Eskel shouldn’t have been surprised when the sorceress suggested teleporting to the swamp. The thought of teleportation made him uneasy inside. “The ferryman isn’t too expensive.” 

She thought of teasing the man, but hesitated seeing the genuine unease in his feline eyes. “I trust you to help me ashore if the boat sinks.”

“You can’t swim?” Eskel raised his brows in surprise.

“Oh I can swim...just not very good.” She admitted gazing into the dark water. 

The sun was just cresting  the hill when the two climbed into the boat. Y/N was seated across from the Witcher as the ferryman guided the rickety vessel through the water. The trip was silent, except the gentle waves that lapped the side of the boat.  

When they finally stepped onto the spongy earth of the swamps, Eskel paid the ferryman. The sorceress had occupied herself with collecting some fools parsley. Eskel was silent to approach her. He took the opportunity to bask in candid moments of the sorceress’s life. The small facial expressions she made, or the ease in which she did most things brought a warmth to the Witcher he couldn’t quite comprehend. The simple, silver embroidered tunic she wore was practical, as were the worn black boots and cloth pants. 

He’d expected an extravagant outfit when she’d met him at the foot of the stairs this morning. Yennefer and Triss always seemed to be adorning the latest fashion whenever they had wintered at Kaer Morhen, so he’d assumed she would do the same. Perhaps his knowledge of sorceresses was lacking. 

(Y/N) glanced up at him, with a soft smile. “Are you ready?” She stood up before he could reply, tucking the herbs into a pouch that hung from her belt. 

They picked their way through the swamp. The sorceress took care to avoid the many bogs that were disguised as shallow puddles. Having learned the hard way the sorceress now knew better. 

The trip through the swamp was a little slower then Eskel was used to, but in no way unpleasant. The sorceress’s legs were much shorter than his, so he understood. She managed to fill the time speaking about various books she’d recently read. Occasionally when the conversation died down, Eskel could hear her singing under her breath. 

It was around noon when the sorceress came to a stop. “It’s just over that hill.” She said, gesturing to a steeply sloping mound. A few trees were scattered along the hill, and a few patches of long stemmed grass. The mud that coated the mound would make it difficult to climb.

“Do you have a plan, or are we just going for it?” The (petite/curvy/lean) woman inquired. 

Eskel looked surprised, “you want to help?” 

A huff escaped her pout, “I didn’t trek miles into these swamps to not get my hands dirty.” She said tossing her (h/c) hair behind her shoulder. “Besides, someone has to watch your back Witcher.”

The stubborn, feisty streak that came out occasionally in the sorceress had Eskel feeling things he hadn’t felt since he was a boy. He thought he became immune to crushes long ago, but this (e/c) eyed beauty was determined to prove him wrong. “Kill as many as you can.” Was Eskel’s only comment as he began wading through the swamp to scale the slippery hill.

The sorceress was quick to follow. They crested the hill both covered in mud. There was little either could have done to avoid the muck. Eskel was about to pour some oil on his blade when a yelp escaped the sorceress. His eyes snapped up in time to see the ground give way beneath her feet. 

She was helplessly sliding down the muddy slope towards the drowners nest. There was no purchase for her to grab onto. Electricity crackled at her fingertips, she’d decided her best option would be to prepare for a fight. The drowners had come running for her as soon as they heard the sound of earth moving. She threw a bolt of lightning at the closest drowner. The air grew hot and heavy from the electric currents in the air. Thunder rumbled in the sky as she pulled a bolt down from the sky.

Eskel was surprised to see the sorceress managing so well. He felt a raindrop on his forearm. As soon as a crack of lightning came down on a drowner, the skies opened up and sheets of rain came falling down. Eskel slid down the hill on the soles of his boots. His left hand behind him kept him balanced. He threw out igni at the first drowner he came across. Quickly lopping its head off. 

He soon found himself fighting next to the sorceress. Her sopping clothes clung to her skin, and something behind her eyes crackled with life. “You look magnificent.” Eskel commented signing Igni at a group of drowners.

A chuckle escaped her as she brought down another strike of lightning, “you’re rather impressive yourself.” 

With a final stroke of his sword the drowners were dispatched. The two made their way over to the nest. Eskel lit a grape shot tossing it into the middle of the nest. “Back up.” Eskel said instinctively, grabbing her hand pulling her away from the nest straight into his arms. 

He could feel the energy still crackling under her skin, and her eyes had turned smoldering as he tilted her chin up to him. He leaned down, hesitating a moment, but she stood on her tiptoes to guide him to her lips. 

Her lips were cold from the rain, but he was pleasantly surprised at how passionately she kissed. Any doubts or insecurities he may have had were put to rest. There wasn’t a thing she’d rather be doing, as she took her time exploring his mouth. 

The snap of a twig was all he heard. Eskel quickly shoved the sorceress behind him, his silver blade already in his hand. A bloedzuiger has emerged from the murky pool. The sound of the grapeshot going off had drawn the monster to them. 

“Run.” Eskel said flatly, backing up from the monster keeping the sorceress behind him. By the Witcher’s tone she did not hesitate to obey. She scrambled up the hill, out of the Witcher’s way. She’d never come across this type of monster in the swamp and had no knowledge of what the monster was capable of.

It looked terrifying; sharp teeth ringed its mouth, and long needle claws swiped at Eskel. The dark haired Witcher was quick on his feet. Using igni and his silver blade in unison. The way he dodged, and striked looked like a dance to the (short/moderate/tall) woman. 

Eskel’s silver blade sank deep into the monster’s flesh. It appeared that the fight was over. In the blink of an eye the monster exploded into a mist of lizard green acid. “Eskel!” The sorceress cried, slipping down the muddy slope, running as fast as her legs could carry her. 

She found him laying face down in the mud. She fell to her knees to check for any signs of life when two strong arms shot out wrapping around her waist, pulling her down into the mud with him. She let out a startled squeak, as he rolled on top of her planting a kiss right on her lips. He broke the kiss as chuckles rumbled through his body. Dark hair tickled her cheeks as she peered up at his feline eyes. 

“I cannot believe you!” She cried. “Making me think you were dead, and then basting me in mud.” She propped herself up on her elbows, “don’t think your boyish charm is going to get you out of this on-“ he cut her off with his lips. 

Her mind went blank at the feel of his full lips. The unabashed kisses came as a bit of a shock to the sorceress. He’d been so guarded the first time they met, and one kiss was all it took for the man to open up. The kiss was over too quickly, “please let me teleport us to a bathtub.” The sorceress muttered inspecting her mud soaked clothes. 

Eskel chuckled, pulling her to her feet, “you’ll get used to it.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I take that as a no to the teleportation to a bath.” 

“No to the teleportation.” He said, leaning closer to murmur in her ear, “I never said no to the bath.” 

The sorceress turned red as she watched the departing Witcher. She knew he had a smug look on his face. He knew exactly how to push her buttons. “You coming?” He asked turning, walking backwards a few steps waiting for her to catch up. 

“You’re helping me up this hill.” She stated, as he graciously held out his hand to pull her up the steep slope. 

The trek back through the swamp was slower than before. The sorceress was miserable in her wet boots, and she could tell the Witcher was fairing the same. 

Twilight had hit when the two finally reached Y/N’s home. “I’ll heat up the water.” Y/N said walking up the stairs. Eskel followed a bit slower taking in the various artwork that hung on the wall. Y/N had already stripped herself of her boots when Eskel leaned against the wooden bathing screen. “Rose hip, or lemon verbena?” She inquired, studying two glass bottles. “Lemon.” She muttered to herself pouring a generous amount in the empty tub. 

“Would you fill the tub?” She inquired, as she grabbed some more soap. The cauldron was awkward, as Eskel poured the water in the tub. He placed the empty cauldron over the fire where it hung. Y/N had started to undress when Eskel brushed her hair aside, his voice husky in her ear, “allow me.”

Tag List:

@mishafaye @nvmnd @rebellicorne

[harryfeatgaga]

im sorry it’s so long but!!! being in love with your guy best friend is truly such a slippery slope dude. i met mine in 7th grade and we did everything together, we were truly besties. we’d both have the occasional relationship with another person here and there throughout high school and such but they always ended for various reasons but deep down i feel it was always because my bf/his gf would get insecure or sus about our friendship. we stayed best friends throughout high school. graduated in 2012 and went to separate colleges both in different states (we’re both originally from philly, PA) and we ended up having sex over christmas break sophomore yearrrrr 😬 and it became a regular thing whenever we’d see each other. on/off though because again we’d occasionally date other ppl but.... we always ended up finding our way back to each other and senior year of college he transferred to a school in our home state and we actually started dating while i was still attending school in boston (shoutout paigeee lol) then we graduated, i moved back home and summer 2016 was incredible. we did so much and had so much fun and we fell in love, i loved him and he loved me. then winter came, we even went to thailand in march for my 23rd birthday in 2017 just him and i. eventually we were deciding what was next career/life wise and i decided to go out to LA that may and pursue my goals in marketing/PR, he ended up going to boston lol to continue in psychology. the long distance thing worked for a couple months but it fizzled out quick and things quite literally just ended. i was so heartbroken. we just stopped talking and became strangers for a year or so until we reconnected and would talk occasionally, he even flew out to LA in march 2019 for a week to visit me for my 25th birthday and met all my friends and this little LA family I have now. we had sex a few times too lol and then he left and thennn we were talking regularly again. i flew home for the holidays in 2019 and.........he introduced me to his girlfriend. they started dating earlier that year in may. my world stopped tbh and shit really hit the fan in march 2020 obviously. I still had a job in LA but moved back in with my parents and worked from there and he proposed to his girlfriend in december 2020 and she’s pregnant now, they’re having a baby girl. and ummm yeah here i am about to be 27 in march and im back in LA and i think about what could’ve been very often. i work hard, i have a good job, a decent career, amazing friends and two dogs lol but it feels like there’s something missing. i think about him so often. i still love him very deeply and kind of suffer with that in silence lol everyday im like...i should’ve fought harder. where could we have been had we stayed together? lol but *kanye voice* i guess we’ll neva know! 🎤

WHY DID THIS ALMOST MAKE ME CRY HELLOOOOOO........IM SO SORRY BABE WTF IM ROOTING FOR YALL TO FIND YOUR WAY BACK IK HE HAS A FINANCE BUT...........GOD.........IM SORRY HUN IM SENDING YOU LOTS OF LOVE

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 74

~*~Sebastian~*~

It was time to get my woman and her panties or lack of them. I walked around the perimeter of the room my high ass thinking I was sneaking up on her. Who knows, maybe it did surprise her when I put my hand on her lower back. Emma turned a little, her hand going to my face before she kissed me, "Hey, baby.

"Hey." I kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Do you have on panties?"

"Yes."

I leaned back, my eyes raking over the smooth lines of her dress. Back to her ear, "Are you sure? I don't see any panty lines."

Emma faced me, her back to the group she'd been talking with, "Have you been sitting over there studying my ass?"

I grinned and nodded my head vigorously, "Yes, I have been. Closely." I ran my hand down and over what I'd been watching. "It's a very good ass."

She put her hand in the middle of my chest, "There are panties that leave no lines."

"Now I'm sad."

About three a.m. we were chased out and everyone headed home. I followed Emma into the back of the Uber scooting right up next to her. I snickered. Emma snickered and put her hand on my thigh. Very high on my thigh.  I snickered again before leaning close to her ear. "I am so fucking horny."

She turned her head, her lips no more than an inch from mine, "I can help you out with that."

"Oh, I know you can." I full on laughed and sat back, my head falling back. "I wish it was my birthday."

She fell over on me, her laughter filling the small space. "Oh, Sebastian."

I growled, "So horny." Then stuck out my lip in a pout.

Emma grabbed my bottom lip, "It can be your birthday."

My eyebrows shot up. "I can have birthday sex?"

She made a circle with her finger, "We. We can have birthday sex."

The hand of her circling finger grabbed the back of my head and kissed the fuck out of me. Just as quickly she moved back, "Remember how Angie said being high makes me touch hungry?"

I nodded slowly and started to smile. Emma licked my upper lip, "I'm starving."

Thank god my place was close. I took Emma's hand as we got out of the car and she was up on me when I punched in the door code, her hands rubbing my hips. Before the elevator doors closed, I had her pressed in the corner, "It's going to be a long night."

"We can sleep tomorrow."

Kissing her, really kissing her, didn't do a thing to take the edge off. I wanted to be buried so deep inside her. My face, my fingers, my cock. I wanted to fuck her until we were too exhausted to do it again. It wouldn’t be our first night like that and hopefully not the last.

I put my hand behind her knee, pulling her leg over my hip, and sliding my hand under her skirt. I moved my mouth to her neck, "Still searching for panties."

The elevator doors opened. Emma pushed me away. "You're not looking hard enough."

I followed her down the hall, "I love a challenge."

Emma laughed, "Finding my panties is the only challenge you're getting tonight."

"I fucking love my life!” She leaned against my door and I pressed against her while unlocking it. "I love you too."

Her hand rubbed the crotch of my jeans, "And I love you."

I turned the handle and we fell through the door somehow winding up in a pile on my floor, both of us laughing. I shifted around until I had Emma right where I wanted her. Underneath me. As I kissed her, I inched her dress up. "Let me check this out."

I scooted down her body, "Oh." I looked up fighting my laugher. "I didn't think people really wore these." She had on the stick on panties similar to those worn when shooting a sex scene.

"They serve a purpose."

"And now they need to go." I picked at the adhesive edge and relocated between her legs. I gripped the loose edge between my teeth and proceeded to pull them away from her skin. Once the front was loose, I lifted her leg to roll her to the side and finish the job. I could see and smell her. I had to taste her. I ran my finger along her slippery wetness, letting out a quiet moan when I sank a finger inside her and put my mouth on her. I loved the way she instantly arched her back and grabbed my arm. We weren't going to stay here on the floor, but for a few minutes I was indulging myself. Well, maybe her too. I worked her clit with my tongue just long enough.

"Bed, baby." I jumped up, holding my hand out to her.

Emma took my hand, "Why is your bedroom so far away?"

"Incredibly inconvenient."

After walking for half a mile we reached my bedroom. Emma stretched up to kiss me, "I'll be right back," and headed toward the bathroom.

I pulled condoms and lube out of the drawer and spread a spare blanket on the bed. Lube gets all over everything. Before we got going I wanted to make sure she wasn't agreeing because she's high and not thinking straight. I'd never do anything she didn’t want or would regret in the morning. We had some discussing to do. Impulsive first time anal sex seemed a minefield for things to go wrong. There’s not a man alive who hasn’t had things go wrong at least once. That once is usually the only shot you get. And if you can't talk about it you’re not ready for it or you don't care what she gets out of it.

I was sat on the edge of my bed when she came out. Her beauty took my breath away. I smiled when I noticed she'd left her skirt hiked up. She came to me turning around, "Can you undo my buttons, please."

“The ones I’m not allowed to rip." The way she hummed her answer made my hands shake. A deep breath later the loops around the buttons came undone easily. I pulled the straps down where now her upper chest was bared. I started there, kissing along the slopes of her breasts. I sat on the bed while Emma worked to strip me. She got my shirt off easy. Pants weren’t as easy, because I was sitting on them, but she left wet kisses on my chest while we worked it out.

Emma braced her hands on my thighs, bending over to kiss me, teasing me with soft short kisses with barely any tongue which built to long sweeps of her tongue. I ran my fingers up the back of her thighs, over her naked ass and the bunched up fabric of her dress. I tested the stretch of the top before pulling it down under her breasts. Massaging them and playing with her nipples intensified her kiss. Her tight nipples, hard peaks, needed to be in my mouth. I grabbed her waist, pulling her closer and making her stand up. I looked up to meet her eyes while my tongue made circles around a nipple. Emma's head fell back and she pulled my head tighter to her. I opened wide to suck and tease her. I squeezed her other breast, catching her nipple in the space between my thumb and forefinger.

"Bastian."

I pulled my mouth off her with a loud pop at the same time I grabbed her ass with fingers barely between her cheeks. "You sure you want this? You're not just high."

"We talked about this weeks ago. I’m not just high." She kicked her leg over mine and sat straddling my thigh. The way she sat I could feel her pussy pressed tight to my leg. She rubbed against me and sucked my neck. I tightened my thigh muscle, encouraging her to ride me. I took her ass in both hands to encourage more, moaning when she complied. I shook when her hand wrapped around my cook and she sucked my earlobe. "I want you to fuck me."

"Fuck," I whimpered, "so horny." I feel like I’ve said that a dozen times tonight.

Emma pushed off my leg and knelt between them, my cock still in her tight grip. "I think I need to take care of you or you're not gonna last long enough to enjoy it."

I laughed, running my hands through her hair, "You are correct, my love." Watching her little pink tongue tease the tip of my cock, her dress pulled down to show off her tits, and hiked up to show everything else, was threatening to make me come before the first stroke of her mouth. She looked like I felt.

Hell yes. She looked like I felt.

I pushed her head down my cock, "I need to come, baby."

She didn't argue. Even if she wanted to it would have been difficult with her mouth full of my cock. I saw her arm move but didn't pay attention and I heard the smack of her hand on the side of my ass a split second before I felt it.

Emma's mouth was quickly off my cock. "Shit, I'm sorry. I just wanted to get your attention. That was harder than I meant."

I stared into her beautiful green eyes, noticing the gold flecks seemed to twinkle. I shook my head, "No, baby girl, that was almost hard enough." My fingers under her chin held her for me to kiss her. "Why did you want my attention?"

She smirked and wiggled her fingers in the direction of the nightstand. "Condom. I want to ride you."

I handed her one and leaned back onto my hands. "Might be the shortest ride of your life."

She rolled the condom down my length. "This ride isn’t for me. It's for you."

I'm not at all sure what that means, but I liked the sound of it. It also wasn't going to help me last longer. "How do you want me?"

"On your back"

I scooted to the middle of my bed and put my hands behind my head.

Her eyes burned a path down my body and back to my face. She pulled her dress over her head as she swung her leg over my hips, facing away from me, and I swear I heard her say, "Smug bastard."

Still high enough to giggle, "Yes, I am."

Emma sank down on my cook. I had a great view of her pink parts taking me in, stretching around me. I groaned and closed my eyes before they could roll back in my head. I remembered the Candy Land game where Emma said this was her least favorite position. Self-conscious of my view and fear of breaking my dick. Her slow shallow movements protected against breakage. I opened my eyes and studied the view. Her more blonde than brown hair hung down her back in a smooth sheet, looking like a cascade of silk thread. The smooth skin of her back moved over muscles and curves as she rode me. Pulling my hands out from behind my head, I reached for her, sliding my hands down from her shoulders before grabbing her ass. "This view is amazing."

She turned her head to look at me, "Thank you."

I kept running my hands over her, "Anytime."

I was noticing everything. I reached for the lube. Emma must have heard the top open because she leaned forward just a little. I rubbed the pad of my finger over the other entrance to her body. "Tell me to slow down or stop."

"What if I want more or harder?" She pushed back against my finger.

I pushed enough for her body to give, letting me in, "I think I’ll be able to tell."

"Better safe than sorry."

I pulled out and pushed back in a few times. Each time pushing in farther. Her hair slid farther down her back with the tilt of her head, "Mmm, feels good."

Emma picked up the speed. I did not. My free hand was tight on her hip. I moved my feet enough to get some leverage and helped out thrusting into her. My finger was as deep inside her as possible and I could feel my finger against my cock. My breath caught when I felt her fingers on my balls.

"You gonna come for me?"

It was the visual of her rotating her hips while my cock and finger were inside her as much as the feel that got me off. I never had the chance to answer her before I exploded. I sunk deeper inside her to ride out my orgasm then sighed, "Yes. I am."

I winced as he pulled off me. The second she was lying beside me I rolled to my side and kissed up the side of her neck to her mouth. “I want to have you every way I can. I want you to know what I feel like inside you. Everywhere.” I got more lube and went back between her legs, my middle finger in her ass and my thumb rubbing her clit and all around her vagina. The way she kissed and moved told me she liked what I was doing. I dropped my mouth back to her breast, using my teeth to test the firmness of her nipple. She cried out and arched into me. Good. I wanted her on the edge of overstimulated.

Stretching across her I sucked hard at her other breast while moving in and out of her body a few times before stroking faster and deeper. I could feel her body relaxing. She was ready for more. I circled my thumb around her clit. "What do you want, baby? I can make you come like this." I gave her nipple a sucking pull. "Or my mouth."

A deep push into her had her gasp, "I always want your mouth."

It had been a stupid question. I knew what she'd pick. I decided I was going to have to put in some time to make the choice harder. But not now.

"As you wish." I went down on her, slowing licking and sucking her, letting my tongue replace my thumb to fuck her, then pulling my finger from her to use my tongue there too. I pushed her leg up to give me more room to lick her top to bottom, stopping at both ends to swirl my tongue.

From above me I heard, "Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god" over and over.

This was fun.

I focused on her clit again and started to push two fingers inside her. More resistance, but easily pushed through.

"Slow, Bastian."

How is her telling me to slow down, hotter than her begging for more? Probably because it means she trusts me enough to listen. This made my cock start to come back to life.

I kept licking her without moving my fingers. Waiting. It wasn't long before she was pushing against me and I slid in more.

The "oh god" changed to "mmm yeah, oh yeah" with each twisting push.

I moved to my knees so I could add the fingers of my other hand to stroke her g-spot. Her legs started shaking, she put her hand on my head, pushing me closer and told me she was going to come.

No shit.

After she came, I let her push my head away, but kept my fingers inside her, riding out the contractions with her. I couldn’t help but think about how good her orgasm was going to feel around my cook and a moan came up from deep inside me.

I didn’t want her to come down. I sat back with my legs crossed under hers. This lifted her hips and tilted them perfectly. I started finger fucking her ass again, my other hand slowly stroking her inner thigh. My fingers weren't as wide as my cock, but I was sure she was ready to take me.

Emma was too. She squirmed against my invasion and made a pleasured noise. "How do you want me?"

The use of my words had me grinning like an idiot. I stole her words too. "On your back. For now. I need to see you." Unsaid was I needed to make sure she was ok. Pretty sure she knew.

Emma handed me a condom and tossed the lube down the bed. I looked at her as I put it on, "Are you nervous?"

Emma shrugged, shook her head, and smiled, at the same time. "No." She clued in and tilted her head, "Are you?"

My streak of complete honestly with her continued, "Yes. I want to make you feel good."

"You always do." She looked away then back, "Except that one time we were really drunk and nothing was working."

"We agreed to never talk about that."

"Mmmm, no we didn't." She scrunched up her nose in an incredibly cute way.

"OK, maybe not, but now is when you bring it up." I pushed in deep, making her breath catch.

She smiled sweetly, "Still nervous?"

I did a quick check, "No."

The smile shifted to something not at all sweet, "Still wanna fuck me?"

I laughed, but not because it was funny, "I always want to fuck you."

[lillianfromaccounting]

Step by Step

author: lillianfromaccounting characters: Matt Murdock x OFC Katie word count: ~2000 warnings: someone gets shot (no deaths), hurt/comfort, implied sexy times

Summary: Katie is assigned a new operative and he operates out of a dumpster.

A/N: This is a birthday fic for @katiekeysburg. Yes, it’s funnier if you know the words to the song (just the refrain).

Step by Step

Step One

Katie thought Coulson was joking when he sent her to meet her next operative at a dumpster. She was no stranger to missions in dark alleys, but he specifically told her to wait at a particular dumpster. She’s heard of stories of agents going off world, dealing with aliens that looked like raccoons, but she never thought she would possibly have to engage with one in their natural habitat.

Coulson said to be flexible. The operative was probably finishing up a mission and could be running late. Katie was impatient. This better be worth the wait, she thought to herself. She contemplated if she should switch out of Coulson’s division. Tomorrow, she’ll message Hill to see if she’s got more interesting work.

At precisely 10:28 pm, she heard footsteps above her, then a black blur fell from the roof. CRASH! A human being just landed inside the dumpster. At least she thought it was human. Human looking enough.

She peeked in, with trepidation, not knowing whether this person was friend or foe.

“Coulson sent you?” a deep voice came from inside the dumpster. “You’re the operative?” Katie replied. “I can hear you rolling your eyes,” he said. “You can hear--of course you can,” she said. “You’re doing it again,” he replied. “A little help here?” Katie climbed up the side of the dumpster and reached in, grabbing his arm. He pulled himself out and then leaned against the brick wall of the building behind them.

“So you’re my new handler, huh?” he said with a bloody grin. “I do not handle people. I manage information, thank you very much,” Katie replied. “And you, sir, are a mess. What is that scarf thing that you’re wearing on your head? How do you even see with that covering your eyes?” “Oh, you didn’t read my file?” he said, almost with a laugh. “Coulson really needs to stop blindly sending agents to me.” “What file? I was supposed to meet you here to get the deets on the drop,” Katie said. “Oh, you and me. We’re gonna have lots of fun,” he said with a smirk. “Sure, we can have lots of fun, if you would just let me do my job and give me the info,” Katie insisted. “You’re rolling your eyes again,” he said. “You have no idea,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Step Two

It had been a week since that dumpster meeting and Katie decided she might seriously maim Coulson. She can easily make it look like an accident. What person in their right mind would pair her up with this lunatic vigilante? What person in their right mind would work with this lunatic vigilante. A blind lunatic vigilante who has no regard for protocols. She’s convinced that this is some sort of demotion. Maybe Coulson was upset that she single-handedly caused a re-org to their division of SHIELD when she discovered and reported the inefficiency and ineffectiveness of SHIELD Team Six. Coulson was spending too much time at Stark Tower and shit was just falling through the cracks. Coulson said he welcomed the change, but Katie wasn’t sure she completely believed him.

Now, she’s perched on the rooftop of a brownstone in Hell’s Kitchen, hoping dumpster diving wasn’t in her future tonight.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” she asked, scanning the horizon through her nighttime binoculars. “There’s so much we can do,” Matt replied. “Are we being philosophical?” she quipped. “Look, you want to know where The Hand will strike next,” he said. “I want to know the same thing. However, finding information requires--” Matt cocked his head. In a split second, he was off. Katie cursed under her breath, knowing he was about to jump to the next building. The only thing that made following him bearable was the SHIELD hover tech. Katie glided over to the rooftop of the next building, where she found Matt scratching the chin of a tabby.

“You jumped across the building to rescue a cat?” Katie questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Not just any cat,” Matt replied, turning the tags on the cat’s collar out. It was small, but there was no mistaking the logo of The Hand. “So, what, we put a tracking device on him?” Katie asked. “We just follow him,” Matt scoffed. “Find their base.”

Step Three

A month into this cat sting operation and it finally happened. The two of them found The Hand’s base and Matt eavesdropped on enough of the conversation to figure out where the drop was happening. Unfortunately, the cat gave their position away. The two of them fought their way out of the dilapidated apartment building, but not before Katie took a bullet in the arm for Matt.

“I always thought I would just let them kill you,” Katie said. “You know I would have dodged that right?” Matt replied. “I’m not sure you would have,” Katie admitted. “Do I detect a hint of concern?” Matt smirked. “In your dreams, Murdock,” Katie replied. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said. “I know someone.” “Of course you do,” Katie said. “I could just go to a SHIELD outpost, you know.” “The place I know doesn’t require filing paperwork,” Matt said. She almost detested that he was getting to know her enough to know what made her tick.

Matt helped Katie to a rooftop a few blocks away, and then gently got her down a fire escape. She wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss or the searing pain, but she swore her life flashed before her eyes. She told herself to get it together. It was a mere flesh wound compared to other missions.

Matt knocked on a window. Katie heard him call out the name Claire before everything went dark.

When she came to, she was on a bed. The room was dimly lit, but she made out that they were in a loft. The place was lightly furnished and definitely not where they went to meet Claire.

“Hey,” Matt whispered. “You’re awake.” He turned and picked up a glass with a straw from the table behind him. “Here, you’re parched.” He brought the straw to Katie’s lips.

The water was cold but welcomed.

“Please, promise me you will never do that again,” Matt said. “You don’t take a bullet, a knife, anything for me. I can handle it. I can’t handle you--you lost a lot of blood.”

“Just a flesh wound,” Katie said. “You almost died,” Matt’s tone was firm. “Where are we? Where’s Claire?” Katie asked. “It’s just you and me,” he replied, taking her hand in his. “But Foggy is on his way with some Thai takeout.” “Where are we?” Katie asked again. “This is my place,” Matt replied.

Step Four

Another week later and Katie was ready to go back into the field. The info they had gotten last time was a bust. The Hand had made them pretty early and the cat was just there to string them along. Katie felt betrayed by the cat, whom she had fed out of her hand many times to gain his trust. Deep down she knew it wasn’t his fault though. He was just being himself.

The same couldn’t be said for Matt. After the night of the ambush, he became both more nurturing and more difficult to read at the same time. She really wasn’t in any condition to be moved, so they decided that his apartment was the best spot to lay low at until she got better. She insisted Matt stop coddling her, because she would rather die than admit that she enjoyed his attention. But the truth was, he was really sweet.

“You should really heal some more before going back out there,” he said. “What, you can sense how my wound is healing?” she snarked. “As a matter of fact, I can,” he said. “As a matter of fact, you should stop that,” Katie mocked. “I feel fine. I’m ready to go back out there.”

She put up a good show, but deep down, she knew he meant well. She hated herself for caring about his opinion. Feelings, it was a slippery slope. Never get involved with people at work. That was her own law. Why did her heart decide it needed to catch feelings, and why this dumpster disaster of a human being?

Surely it wasn’t because he made sure she ate three meals a day since the shooting. Or that he gave up his own bed so that she could heal in comfort. Or that he was gentle with that traitor cat. Or that he’s constantly working for the underserved population, both at his day and night jobs. Or that he can be just as stubborn as she is.

It didn’t hurt that he drew her a hot bath in his clawfoot tub the second night she was there. It didn’t hurt that he offered to shampoo and condition her hair because she couldn’t raise her arm (and he did a lovely job at that). It definitely didn’t hurt when he changed her dressings every night. She could tell he was a pro and part of her heart ached knowing that he had probably changed his own dressings too many times to count.

Katie didn’t hear Matt’s reply because she was focusing on her breathing. She knew it was only a matter of time before her own body betrayed her. She knew he could hear her heart racing and he probably sensed her getting flushed. She knew that she could only blame it on the gunshot for so long.

Katie snapped out of her thoughts when she felt Matt’s hand on her chin. “What was that?” she said. She couldn’t help but notice how warm his hand was. “I said, I can give you more,” Matt said, his hand cupping her jawline. “More?” she said, inhaling sharply. Something about his calloused fingers on her skin made her spine tingle. He chuckled and bit his lower lip. He leaned in closer, his nose practically touching hers.

The door flung open.

“You’ll never guess what the special at the bodega was today!” Foggy barged into the loft holding two large bags. Matt jumped back and Katie sat upright. Foggy looked at Matt, then at Katie, then back at Matt. “Well?” Foggy demanded. “Aren’t you going to guess?” “I have no idea,” Matt said. “What was the special?” “Avocado toast!” Foggy beamed. “Who’s hungry?” “I could use a drink,” Katie said. “A tall glass of water for you!” Foggy prescribed. “I was thinking more like whiskey,” Katie retorted. “Not until you’re off the pain meds,” Foggy said. “Claire’s orders.”

Step Five

It was another week before they collectively deemed that Katie was fit to be released. Matt even got a SHIELD team to come and get her cleared.

“I want you to know that your work was not in vain,” Coulson said. “We were able to infiltrate The Hand based on you finding their location, and we prevented the unspeakable weapon from being launched. You did an excellent job.”

“I don’t feel like I did anything,” Katie replied.

“Well, you did. Director Fury and I decided that you deserve this,” Coulson said, handing Katie a new ID card.

“Level seven?” Katie read the card. “You’re promoting me? I mean, if I knew all I had to do was get shot to get promoted, I would have done that years ago.”

“It wasn’t because you got shot. You earned it based on your selfless actions and dedication to the team. Plus, we caught the big bad thanks to you,” he said.

“Thank you. I’m not sure what to say,” Katie said.

“Don’t you know? The time has arrived for a new mission,” Coulson said, dropping an inch thick case file onto the table in front of them. “I expect the first check in from you two within forty-eight hours.”

“Us...two?” Katie looked at Matt. “You’re kidding right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Coulson retorted. “Don’t answer that. You two make a great team, and we can use Mr. Murdock’s expertise with this one. I have a quinjet to catch. If you have any questions, you know how to find me.”

Coulson left as quickly as he came.

“Did you know about this?” Katie asked, searching Matt’s face for any tells. “Truth be told,” he said, “I requested it.” “Why?” she asked. “You know why,” he replied, taking her hand. “As much fun as it is to bicker with you, we should stop fighting this.” “Stop fighting what?” she said, holding back a smile. Matt intertwined one hand with hers, his other hand cupping her cheek. “Huh,” she said, her heart racing. “Huh,” he whispered, closing the distance between them.

She had imagined this moment many times, but nothing quite prepared her for the sensation of Matt’s soft, firm lips finally meeting hers. He didn’t hold back, each passing moment hungrier than the last. It felt like they were moving in slow motion but everything happened in a blur. One moment they were on the couch, the next they were in his bed. Day turned to night and then turned to day again. He took his time, sensing and fulfilling her body’s every want and need. Katie felt Matt letting his guard down, allowing himself to be vulnerable for once. Twice. Three...four...she stopped counting after six. At some point, she woke up in his arms. He wasn’t quite asleep, but he looked content and relaxed. She pressed her face against his chest, falling back asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula implied Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Holy cow! This is one of the longest chapters I’ve written for anything in a long time! I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

                                                  Chapter Five

Courtship. The ideology behind romance to begin with never had settled with Zoe. If anything, one might argue she was married to her work. Dedicated. She'd had no time for dating, especially when it came to Count Dracula. But there she was, standing in a clothing store, feeling as if the very walls were closing in on her because she let it slip to one of her friends that she had an evening planned with a man that night.

"So you aren't even going to tell me who?" Meg, a fellow scientist at the Jonathan Harker Foundation, asked with a wide grin. "Is it Randall from Security?"

"Yes, because I find a man who sucks cheese puff powder off of his fingers and lacks the decency to use deodorant highly attractive," Zoe rolled her eyes. "And it isn't a date. It's more like a business meeting."

"He's cooking you dinner, Zo," the woman laughed, rifling through a rack of dresses. "If that doesn't spell romantic, I don't know what does. Here," she thrust a floral printed pink dress into the other woman's arms. "Anyway, can you at least humor me with where you met lover boy?"

"Oh God," the scientist moaned. "Please do not refer to him as that. Ever. I just started to get over my morning sickness." Zoe paused, trying to ignore Meg's pleading expression. "...If you must know, we met on the beach." She decided not to go with any further details on that account. The last thing she needed was for Meg to eventually put two and two together.

Meg squealed like a teenager and it took every bit of Zoe's energy not to conk her in the head. "That is literally the picture perfect setting for a romance novel. Oh, and this one," she draped another dress, this one yellow spotted, over the pregnant woman's forearm. "Is he cute? Tall, dark, and handsome?"

"Tall and dark," the other woman muttered. "But not in the way you're thinking." Macabre was a more fitting description. Handsome she didn't intend on going down that path. "Really, Meg, I appreciate the help, but this isn't a date. I'm just going over to chat. And trust me, it's the last thing I want to do." Hoping maybe to prove her point more, she motioned to the dresses. "I shouldn't even bother wearing something nice."

"Oh please, Zoe, you need new clothes anyway," Meg exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Your closet looks like you came from the late 1800's." She shook her head, ignoring the other woman's glare. "Besides, you're pregnant. You need to expand your wardrobe to accommodate, well…"

Meg didn't need to finish her statement for Zoe to know what she was getting at. Absentmindedly, the scientist's free hand rested on the swell of her stomach. Accommodation. That certainly was one way to put it. It was better than openly expressing that she was outgrowing her normal clothes. Twice as fast as most expecting women. She had the twins to thank for that.

"I suppose there isn't any harm in stocking up." The woman finally admitted, Meg's eyes lighting up at her friend's surrender. "But I'm not doing it for him. There's nothing wrong with wanting to look good for myself."

"Whatever you say, Zoe." Meg smirked, taking a few dresses from her as they walked to the counter. "Anyway, he sounds like the ideal guy. I mean, showing interest in you despite the fact that you're about to have not one, but two babies." She paused, turning to meet her friend's gaze. "He does know you're pregnant right?"

Oh did he ever. It was his fault anyway. He'd been the one to knock her up in the first place. But admitting that to someone like Meg. Someone, who despite she loved dearly, had an issue with keeping her mouth shut and spreading the world's secrets to all. She inhaled, laying the dresses onto the counter before settling on an answer.

"Yes," she replied. And it wasn't exactly a lie. Just not the full truth. "He is aware of my pregnancy. It doesn't seem to concern him." Not in the slightest unfortunately.

"Who knows," Meg grinned widely. "Maybe if things work out, he could be your dream daddy! Knight of the dirty diapers! King of spit up, clean up! The royal…" She stopped abruptly when Zoe shot her a disapproving glare. "Look, Zo, all I'm saying is that this can be really good for you. Give the man a chance. Whoever he is. You of all people deserve to be happy."

"Yeah." Zoe muttered un-enthusiastically, retrieving her credit card from her purse. "If you say so."

Her idea of true happiness was being away from that vampire as far as possible. Especially with their-her children on the way. Christ, Meg merely suggesting that Dracula being the ideal family man and husband…No, she'd certainly have none of that.

As she grabbed the bulging bags of dresses and followed Meg out, she made a mental note to make a mock-tail of some sort once she arrived back home. She couldn't have alcohol, but she could at least pretend. Maybe then the disturbing images would vanish from her mind. Hopefully.

                                                           XXX

"If it were me, I'd go with that baggy pair of sweatpants of yours and that stained t-shirt in the closet? You know the one I'm referring to. I believe it's blue and has the name of that fish and chips restaurant you like so much?"

Zoe did her best to ignore Agatha's advice as she slipped into a navy blue dress. Simple. Nothing that particularly stood out. She didn't want to impress him, but at least look presentable at the clinic. Studying herself in the mirror, it was hard not to smile a little when her eyes landed on her stomach. What an odd thought it was knowing that two tiny...well, half humans had inhabited her womb. Growing rapidly day by day. Soon enough she'd be able to hold both of them in her arms-something she was greatly looking forward to.

"Despite your clear assumption, I am not dressing for Count Dracula." Zoe said as she glimpsed at her late niece's reflection in the glass. "I'm just fond of this dress."

"Yes, but you don't tend to wear those very often do you?" The woman frowned deeply at the ghost's words. "Do not go down an even slipperier slope, Zoe. Vampires are tricksters. He could reel you in before you even realized that he had."

"Patronizing me wouldn't get you anywhere." The scientist exclaimed as she gave her appearance one last look. "I am far more intelligent than you give me credit for. Not that this is, or has been, any of your concern to begin with."

Before the spirit could reply, there was a rhythmic knock at the front door. Grinding her teeth together, Zoe strode over and peered through the peephole. She was met by Dracula's wide grin as he stared right back at her. When he gave a friendly wave, she couldn't help but groan and pulled the door open.

"Are you going to invite me in?" The vampire inquired pleasantly. "You look quite lovely by the way. That dress does wonders." It was hard to tell if it was a genuine compliment or blatant sarcasm. It was difficult to know with him. "Well?"

"I suppose I don't have much of a choice…" Zoe exhaled as she stepped to the side. "Count Dracula, it is a great honor to allow you passage into my humble abode."

"Moody I see." Dracula commented as he entered. "Though I do appreciate the flair for the dramatic." His eyes immediately fell to her stomach, lips curving into a grin. "Twelve weeks?"

"Thirteen," she muttered. Christ, why did he have to stare at her like that? "We should get going if we don't want to be late. I could've just met you there, you know. I know how to operate a vehicle."

"I just thought this would allow us more bonding time." The Count responded as he reached to grab Zoe's fleece jacket from the coat rack. She didn't take it. "It's cold." He remarked with a slight frown. "And the waiting room is just as chilly."

"I'll take my chances." The scientist replied, pushing past the man.

She could feel Agatha's eyes staring at the back of her neck as she went. It didn't help matters when Dracula decided to bring the coat along anyway. Why was it so hard for people to just listen to her? When the vampire opened up the car door to let her in, she grew even more irritated. The Count could act as gentlemanly as he liked, but he'd always be just a bloodthirsty killer. Literally.

"Are you always so anti-social?" Dracula asked as he pulled onto the road. "You know, that isn't how you make friends."

"Shut up," Zoe grumbled. "And I'll have you know, I have plenty of friends."

"Really? Like who?"

The scientist snorted loudly at his question. "Do you honestly think I'd tell you? The last thing I need is for you to go about draining them dry." She folded her arms over her chest and stared idly out of the window. "I don't need you invading my social circles."

"That's a shame." He exhaled, though his disappointment was clearly false. "I came across this lovely little app that allows you to hook up with people."

Zoe grew rigid in her seat. An app? What was he talking about? "What do you mean an app?" The woman asked, trying not to sound at all interested. "A dating app?"

"Well," he shrugged. "I suppose you could use it for that. But I use it for other things."

She knew what he meant. It didn't take an expert. And yet, the idea that he was using it to find "victims" didn't upset her. No. No, it was the fact that it was a dating app. A strange sensation began to bubble in the pit of her stomach. An emotion that almost horrified her at the thought. Jealousy.

"Those things are rigged." She explained, trying to maintain her cool. "You could easily be cat-fished. I would've expected you to be smarter than to use some silly old site." Why should she even care? Why did she care? "I wouldn't bother with one of those."

Dracula looked at her in amusement as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of reacting further, she got out of the car and began to speed walk towards the entrance. She was so caught up in trying to get away from him that she didn't notice the small pot hole in the pavement. The tip of her shoe caught itself on the edge sending Zoe tumbling towards the ground. Just as she was about to hit the pavement, someone grabbed her from behind.

"Didn't anyone teach you not to run in the street?"

Zoe, still a little shaken, turned her head to see that her "hero of the day" was none other than the Lord of Darkness himself. Pulling away from his awkward embrace, she stabilized herself. He wasn't smirking. Or chuckling for that matter. Actually, he looked a little concerned.

"Are you alright?" He ventured, his eyes scanning her.

"I'm...fine," she decided. "Thank you for that." Blood began to rush to her cheeks and suddenly she felt rather hot. "Let's just go in. We're already running late."

Neither spoke as they made their way to the Obstetrics and Gynecology ward. Something that Zoe was more than fine with. After she signed in, she took her seat beside Dracula-who, currently, was immersed in a magazine about water birth.

"This sounds intriguing." He commented, pointing to an image of a very pregnant woman sitting in a plastic tub with her partner. "Shall I tear it out for future reference?"

"I'm not getting naked in a tub with you!" She hissed, snatching the paper away. "Giving birth or for pleasure."

Tossing the magazine aside, Zoe was relieved when a nurse leaned out of the door and called her back. Dracula was the first to rise, offering his hand to the doctor to help her up. Ignoring him completely, the woman stood up unaided and the two filed into the back.

"Go behind the curtain while I change into the gown." Zoe instructed as she snatched up the folded clothes. "I'll let you know when you can come out."

"I've already seen you naked before." Dracula called out as she yanked the blind in front of him. "And I'm sure it will happen again!"

"In your dreams." Zoe muttered, slipping into the outfit. God, how unsightly it made her look. Frowning, she ran a hand through her hair. "Alright, you're allowed back in."

Dracula grinned as he reappeared. "I preferred the other dress," he commented. "But I suppose I could also adjust to this one."

Before Zoe could snap back, the door opened and Dr. Clyde strode in. He smiled at the two, clearly not realizing the current feud happening. Throwing one last glare at Dracula, the scientist slid onto the examination table and forced a smile onto her face.

"Zoe, it's so lovely to see you." Dr Clyde expressed giving her a warm handshake. "And you as well." Dracula smirked at the recognition and the woman did her best not to snarl. "Let's have a look at your twins. It's been a few weeks, hasn't it."

The paper lining the bed crinkled as Zoe laid back feeling uncomfortably exposed. As the obstetrician pulled the ultrasound machine over, the vampire moved closer to her side. If he tried to reach for her hand, she would, without a doubt, do her best to rip it off.

"And how have you been feeling?" The doctor asked, preparing the gel to smear across her abdomen. "Nausea starting to settle down? Any spotting or bleeding?"

"None." Zoe replied, going slightly ridged as the cold slime touched her bare skin. "I've been feeling okay."

"That's perfect," Dr. Clyde grinned, grabbing the probe. "That's exactly what we liked to hear!" He began to run the device across her lower stomach. "And…" Suddenly, the room was filled with the sound of familiar thumping. It was as if a weight had been lifted off Zoe's shoulders. "There we go! Heartbeats located!"

Dracula and Zoe both peered up at the screen at the two blobs that looked much more human in appearance. Their blobs. The vampire smiled proudly as he studied the images carefully.

"Are they healthy?" Dracula asked, turning to the doctor. "Functional?" Functional. Zoe rolled her eyes at the word. "Why are they so close together?"

"Actually, a very valid question." The man smiled, taking his mouse to point at what seemed to be a thin line. A membrane. "It's around this stage that we can confirm what sort of twins we are dealing with. Fraternal or identical, I mean. And your two…" Again, he pointed at the screen. "Are, without a doubt, identical."

Identical. Identical. Jesus H. Christ. She was giving birth to clones! Well, not clones in the sense of copies of something. Well, they would look just like each other. How the hell was she supposed to tell them apart?! She didn't sign up to be pregnant. She didn't sign up for twins. And she sure as Hell didn't anticipate them being carbon copies of each other!

"Zoe? Zoe, are you alright?"

It was the sound of Dracula's voice that snapped her back into reality. When their eyes met, she was surprised how genuinely concerned he looked. Evidently her internal panic attack must've been a little external. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be just fine. She just needed to keep her grip on the string of her balloon of sanity and not let go.

"I'm fine." She assured them, nodding her head. "Just a lot to take in."

The two little creatures on the screen moved. Zoe watched as their little stubby limbs disappearing in and out of view as the doctor guided the probe around. Identical. She was still in utter shock, there was no denying that, but she already loved them dearly. Even though their father was Dracula. And that she might lose her mind figuring out which baby was which. They were her's and God she'd do anything for them.

"When can we learn the gender?" Zoe asked, her attention turning to the doctor. "Is it too soon?"

"Not for awhile, I'm afraid." Dr. Clyde admitted, wiping a towel across Zoe's midsection. "It's easiest to tell around eighteen to twenty weeks. There are ways to test earlier, but I'd suggest waiting. You're only a month or two away."

Zoe couldn't help but scowl as Dracula immediately grabbed the ultrasound images from the OBGYN. Proudly, he carefully folded them up and slipped them into his wallet. She made a mental note to attempt to reclaim them later on. They were equally her's after all.

"It was wonderful seeing you both again and I'm glad things are going well." Dr. Clyde smiled as he walked the couple out. "I'll have the receptionist schedule you for an appointment in a few weeks. Just to keep track since you are high risk. But no concerns whatsoever right now." He paused in the doorway. "If you have any questions, please feel free to call me and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible!"

It had begun to rain as they exited the hospital. When Dracula produced an umbrella, Zoe was not too shocked by it. The vampire always seemed to have many tricks up his sleeve. Though the idea of being close to him made her shutter, being wet wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling. Sucking it up, she got underneath and kept up his pace.

The drive from the clinic to Dracula's flat wasn't a long one which spared the need for small talk. Already the storm had begun to pass, the light of the moon reflecting in the puddles. The vampire seemed to move with more purpose and Zoe couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to avoid looking into them. Finally reaching the front door, the Count grabbed the knob and pulled it open.

"Ladies first." He smiled, motioning for the woman to enter.

Zoe frowned softly, but did as he said. Her eyes scanned the room as she took in the sight around her. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The past few times she visited, every appeared to be in order. Placing her purse on a nearby table, she took a seat on a leather couch. It felt surprisingly good to be off her feet.

"It's nice to have someone to cook for that I don't intend on having for dinner later." Dracula commented, moving towards the fridge to retrieve some ingredients. "I'll have you know I went great lengths to make this perfect. Farm's markets don't operate at night. I had to send Frank out to purchase what I needed." The smirk that plastered itself on his face made her want to smother him with a pillow. "Only the best for the mother of my children."

She didn't give him the satisfaction of a response as she settled back into the soft cushions. Exhaustion. That feeling was becoming more apparent as her pregnancy progressed. Though she dared not admit that to Dracula. He'd insist on her staying the night and she knew what happened last time when she did that.

"Where did you even learn to cook?" The scientist asked, hoping that talking would keep her alert. "It's not like you need to eat regular food."

"Over the years you pick up skills." Dracula replied simply, dumping chopped vegetables into a sizzling pan. "Besides, I have guests to impress. It wouldn't look good if I wasn't a proper host."

"No," she sighed. "I guess it wouldn't."

It was almost relaxing observing him work. He did so with surprising grace. Zoe couldn't help but secretly wish Agatha was here to berate her for her decisions. At least that would've stifled the yawn she'd been trying so hard to suppress.

"Tired are we?" The vampire inquired, looking up from a pot of boiling water. "You are more than welcome to lay down and take a snooze."

"I'm fine." Zoe insisted, forcing her eyes to open wider as she pushed herself up. "I'm just bored."

"The remote is on the lamp table beside you." He informed her as he returned his attention to the food. "There are hundreds of channels to watch on there. Surely you can find one to suit your desires."

Television hadn't exactly been a preferred choice of entertainment for Zoe. A novel or, at the most, an audio-book was more her style. Despite that, she grabbed the clicker and turned the thing on. Flipping through the channels, she skimmed through the various sports, music competitions, before deciding on BBC Knowledge. Nothing wrong with a good, old documentary.

As she watched the bold logo appear on the screen her nerves began to settle. At least her mind could be focused elsewhere than her current, problematic situations. That immediately changed when the title of the episode popped up: An Exploration into the Lives of Nuns Throughout the Centuries. Immediately she clicked it off, tossing the remote to the side.

"Done already?" Dracula asked, eyeing her with a cocked brow.

"Nothing of interest," she lied. "Are you almost finished? I'd like to get home at a decent hour."

"You're in luck." The vampire replied, grabbing a plate of something. Whatever it was, the smell wafted through the air. Intoxicating. Rich. And her stomach growled with hunger. "Come sit at the table."

Reluctantly, she stood up and made her way over to the dining room table. There were at least two positives when it came to having dinner with Dracula. The first being that even if she wasn't pregnant, he wouldn't poison her. That would certainly ruin his meal. And, of course, the obvious one. She was carrying his children. He seemed very intent on having a part in their lives-even though she was very intent on keeping that from happening.

"What is it?" Zoe asked as she sat down, eyeing the plate warily as he placed it in front of her.

Thick, speckled with herbs spaghetti noodles drenched in a rich, red sauce that was topped with a breaded piece of meat-chicken perhaps-sat before her on a white plate. God, did it look good. Almost too good to eat. She looked to Dracula who was smiling proudly at his dish.

"Chicken Parmesan." He stated as he took the seat opposite of her. "With less garlic than the recipe called for, of course." How thoughtful. "Well go on," he nodded. "At least try it."

Narrowing her eyes at him, she grabbed her fork. Taking the smallest amount possible on the tongs, she placed the bite into her mouth. So one could really experience an orgasm in their mouth. Zoe chewed it carefully, savoring the flavors.

"Well?" The Count ventured. "What's my Yelp rating?"

"It's...edible…" She admitted as she went in for another forkful. "I'm impressed that you know how to do more than just suck blood."

"I appreciate the compliment." He smiled, folding his hands onto the table. "Now, now that we're settled down, I think we should talk about the twins." The scientist stiffened at his statement. "We have our differences, Zoe. But I have an equal right over them too."

"They're babies," she glowered. "They aren't something to trade around like a prize. After all of your literal crimes against humanity, what makes you think you are suited to be a father? I'm willing to fight you for them." It wouldn't be that easy and she very well knew it. It just felt good to threaten him. "You don't deserve a family."

"A rather harsh statement." The vampire replied with a nod. "But I suppose I have done some questionable things in that past." He paused before adding. "And perhaps in the present as well." Dracula leaned back in his seat and continued. "Although, it isn't fair of you to immediately assume that I would be a toxic parent without allowing me to prove myself first."

Zoe let out a sharp laugh. "What makes you think you have the right to even ask me to do that?" Her fork clanked against the bottom of her dish. "It was my mistake of even telling you that I was pregnant in the first place. I should've kept my mouth shut. Then I wouldn't have to deal with your shit!"

"I don't want to argue with you, Zoe," Dracula said with a frown. "I invited you over and cooked you dinner in the hopes we could discuss this like adults." He fell silent for a moment seeming to consider something. "Come with me."

"Why?" She snapped, her arms folding over her chest. "Do you plan to hold me captive until you can claim my children?"

"Can I show you something without you immediately jumping down my back?" He asked coolly, rising up from his chair. "I want to show you something."

Part of her wondered if she could reach the front door fast enough to get out without him catching her. Knowing that wasn't a possibility, she ceded and reluctantly followed the vampire. When they stopped in front of a room, Dracula flipped a switch and a beam of light lit up the interior.

Zoe gawked in astonishment at what she saw. The walls were painted an off-white, decorated by framed pictures of shades of green and gray abstract shapes. There was a french dresser sandwiched between two changing tables and the highlight of it all, two beautifully crafted cribs. A nursery. The bastard had installed a nursery!

"You…" She swallowed hard, hands balling into fists. "You did this?"

"Well, it's not finished yet." Dracula explained as he stepped inside. "But it is a step in the right direction, don't you think?"

Not one thing. She hadn't gotten a single thing for the twins. She sure as hell wasn't anywhere close to being able to create a nursery. Where would she even put the damn thing?! And now here he was, goddamn parent of the year with a room already ready for two kids she didn't even want him to have access too. Whether it was from the stress of it all. The hormones. The emotions. Zoe began to ball. Really, truly sob like she never had before. Oh Christ she was going to be a terrible mother.

"Zoe?" Dracula asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look like I'm okay?!" She hissed through streaming tears. "Do you have any idea what I'm dealing with right now?! With what I'm going through?! You built a bloody nursery! What are you trying to prove?!" Zoe held up a hand before he could answer. "You're a complete and utter prick! And an asshole! And I hate you!" How unpleasant she both sounded and surely looked right now. "And I...I…"

A pair of arms wrapped around her and through bleary eyes she met Dracula's gaze. For whatever reason she didn't fight it, leaning into his chest as she cried and cried. She'd regret this later. Agatha would be sure to make a scene when she returned home. But for now she gave into her emotions and the vampire's hug. Until that moment, she hadn't really realized how badly she needed one. Even if it did come from him. It would bite her in the ass later, but for now she closed her eyes. It wasn't too terribly bad after all. Was it?

[allie1804-fan]

The Middle of the Road (Chapter 8)

Chapter 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7

Chapter 8

After his shower, Keanu put on sweat pants and a t shirt and lay on the bed to reflect.

“How had it come to this?”

It wasn’t just the misunderstanding over Hannah having her arm around him, he knew that, but he was struggling to see the through line. He knew he was thinking about his own life like a script or a storyline, but hey, when they developed scripts, they always wanted the character arcs to be real even if sometimes the events were totally “out there”. He had clearly slept walked into this so he needed to retrace his steps somehow. He wanted to ask Em, but she was closed off to him right now and he got the impression that part of the problem was that he’d missed the signals  - it was time for him to try to figure out at least some of his mis-steps so he could apologise for his part in the situation. But man she was way out of line to suggest he was trying to brush things under the carpet when he’d repeatedly tried to explain and been rejected.

That evening things remained awkward between them. Karina returned with a tired out Johnny and pizza.  Hannah had a tiny piece to suck on but mostly other food since she was too young for all the flavours, sugar and salt but the rest of them tucked in especially Keanu and Emily  - neither of them had really thought about food since the day before when they’d gone to hospital with Hannah.

After dinner and for the next few nights Emily breast-fed Hannah then slept in the nursery on a futon to be sure Hannah was OK. Keanu focussed on Johnny, bathing him, settling him into bed and reading him his story before retreating downstairs where he’d pour himself some wine or a whiskey then go to bed alone. The  same pattern persisted in the daytime also. They were a tag team working in shifts and their communication was minimal.

On the third day, Keanu arranged to meet Alex at the beach with his kids, forewarning him that he needed relationship advice. Luckily his boys were great with Johnny and so he and Alex had a good amount of time to talk.

Alex was reluctant to interfere, but he did share some useful personal experience.

“With my first, I was just too young, I didn’t pull my weight in any way. 2nd time around I was determined not to do that, but it was a lot harder than I thought it would be. We both wanted to have it all. To be with the kids and to work and to spend time with each other as a couple. It’s a tough balancing act for sure. I mean what was your plan?”

Keanu snorted

“you think we had a plan?! I mean when we fell pregnant the first time it was a shock coz we’d given up and then 2nd time it was a shock again from which I think we’re still recovering honestly. We always said having a child would mean less focus on work and I have cut back, you know I have but, we haven’t had much of a strategy about anything beyond trying to carve out some time for Em to write.”

“Well that’s positive surely?”

Keanu’s expression was sheepish.

“What?”

“Well we started well, a couple of solid afternoons a week where I had both kids but lately….”

“Lately…..?”

“More of my stuff has crept in so there are windows of time but not whole chunks”

He sighed, beginning to realise the slippery slope he’d fallen down.

“and I think I persuaded myself that it added up to the same amount of time but really she needs a good run at it, not lots of little pockets. No wonder she ranted about  her brain going to jello because my creativity was taking priority!”

“Oh”

“Yes ‘oh’, God I’m such an idiot. Last time she asked if there would be time for her to write in the coming week and I had too many meetings so there wasn’t, I told her not to freak out as she didn’t have a live project”

“Oh man, Kiki!”

Keanu punched his head with his fist.

“And then I was telling Hannah that somehow I was clearly messing things up with Em  when Em walked in and saw us”

“Saw you what?!” Alex’s eyebrow had shot up wondering what Keanu had been caught doing!

“Just, I was upset, worried and she put her arm round me”

“And Emily walked in?”

Keanu nodded dejectedly.

“Oh Man, and have you explained what she saw to Em?”

“ I’ve tried, over and over again but she won’t even have a conversation with me”

“When was this?

 “The afternoon before we took Hannah to the ER”

“So she might still be thinking you’re cheating or something?”

Another dejected nod from Keanu greeted that statement.

“Shit!”

“And didn’t you two meet when you were collaborating on a script?”

That last comment was like a sucker punch to Keanu’s chest as a more full realisation of how he had most probably hurt Emily struck him. She’d seen him enjoying a new creative project, waxing lyrical about it, singing the praises of the person he was working with, inviting her over to dinner. The fact that they had fallen in love in similar circumstances must have played on her mind and then he’d prioritised his project over her being able to have just a little time to start writing again. What a bastard!

“Keanu! Keanu!”

Keanu had been silent for a good 5 minutes and Alex was trying to get his attention.

“What?”

“Where did you go?”

“Just thinking, finally, about how this all might have seemed  from Emily’s perspective. When you said about us meeting the way we did, I realised how this collaboration with Hannah might have felt to her. “

“Like a threat you mean?”

“Exactly!”

@penwieldingdreamer @fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @ladyreapermc @witty-wallflower @gatsbynouvel @bitchyslut99 @keanureevesisbae @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @kindainlovewithkeanu @paperplanesandwallflowers

[obsessivedilettante]

20 in 10: A Drama Retrospective

Since I’ve been all quiet on the drama front this year because of life reasons, I thought it would be fun to go back and pick out 20 of the most memorable dramas of the last decade. Maybe not necessarily the best dramas or even my favorites (although some are!), but two dramas each year that were somehow notable moments in my drama-watching timeline.

2009: Gateway Drugs

Boys over Flowers (KBS)

This is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a good drama. It is not one I think I can ever really rewatch (although I will happily revisit the 2005 Japanese version, and I had a hellava fun time watching the latest Chinese version). But! It was the first kdrama I remember watching, and the first step on the slippery slope of eventually becoming a Drama Addict. I mostly remember it being crazy popular on places like mysoju (RIP), and so I checked it out due to curiosity, and the rest, as they say, is history. Or, should I say, almost paaaaradise!

You’re Beautiful (SBS)

This one I also watched because it became crazy-popular online, and curiosity got the better of me. I really didn’t know much about k-pop prior to dramas, so I had no idea until after this drama that k-pop was more about pretty people in crazy fashion, dancing in syncopation in bizarrely lit rooms, rather than playing instruments. Because it was thanks to this drama that I got my crash-course on k-pop as a phenomenon -- both the fandom side, and the crazy things that artists have to go through to claw their way into the public’s view (nevar 4get the glorious ramen dance). Since Angel was a group that played instruments, and Hongki and Yonghwa were also from groups that played instruments, I assumed that all kpop were groups that played instruments. Oh, sweet summer child...

But it did get me started on my k-pop journey, first falling in love with FT Island and CNBLUE, before falling into the rabbit hole of the other prominent groups of the day. (SNSD! The Wonder Girls! Super Junior! DBSK! SS501! Kara! 2PM! 2AM! Shinee! BEG! Epik High! U-KISS! All the debut groups, like 2NE1, MBLAQ, B2ST, 4Minute, f(x), T-ara, After School... basically 2009 was a magical year in k-pop.)

If I had just watched Boys Over Flowers, I don’t know that I would have become a Drama Addict. But You’re Beautiful pushed me closer to the edge, with the zany humor of the Hong Sisters (and the desire for a pig-bunny of my own!). It would really be Coffee Prince that would push me over the edge, but that aired in 2007 so it doesn’t count for this list. But I had to mention it anyway, because, well, it’s Coffee Prince and where my love for Handsome Oppa began.

2010: More Than Candy

The Woman Who Wants To Marry (MBC)

A lot of the dramas I watched at first had that typical “Candy” character, the poor-but-scrappy girl who would somehow be saved by the guy and become the Cinderella she never knew she wanted to be. So it was a delight when I encountered women who were not only older than high-school-age or early twenties, but in their thirties, with rich full lives! Plus, this was one of my earliest introductions to the concept of the “noona romance” (a concept that I’ve since heartily embraced, of course). I started it primarily because Kim Bum was my favorite of the Flower Boys, but I stuck with it because I fell in love with the women (and I still have a girl-crush on Bu-ki).

Harvest Villa (tvn)

This show is insane. But in the good way, the way that the writer intended, and not in the “are a bunch of monkeys typing this script?” train-wreck way. There was basically no buzz about this show, and I feel like I somehow accidentally stumbled over it, but it was love at first sight. I’ve never forgotten the late hours binging it, being so sucked into the story that I absolutely had to finish it as soon as I could, disappointed that there wasn’t more of it to enjoy when I finally finished, bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived, but satisfied.

I then later gobbled down this writer’s next drama, and her next drama, and the next, until everyone else finally realized thanks to Signal that Kim Eun-hee was as amazing a writer as I kept insisting to anyone who would listen (aka no one).

2011: To Binge or Not To Binge?

White Christmas (KBS)

I did not watch White Christmas in 2011. I actually watched it in 2013. I was always a steadfast binger, preferring to wait until the buzz about a show would sway me into spending my precious free-time watching something that would be worth my while (not that my drama choices were always good, but at least I tried to avoid the duds). I still prefer to binge, since waiting weeks for new episodes is vaguely frustrating when I want to know what happens next, right now! Plus, I’m very good at forgetting that I’m watching a show in the week-long wait for new episodes, and then just... never picking it back up again.

Despite watching White Christmas a couple years after it aired, it remains one of my favorites, and one I love to rewatch, even though I’ve already experienced  whodunnit cliff-hangers and psychological rollercoasters. It became a tradition of sorts here on tumblr for a bunch of us to rewatch it over the holiday season -- alas, I haven’t joined in that tradition for the past couple of years, but I hope that somewhere in this blue hell hole that there are a loyal few keeping the tradition alive.

At least we have this drama to thank for bringing us all the model-actors that were new and clueless in White Christmas, but would later go on to be leading men in their own right. Of course, some of them haven’t exactly made the best drama choices (*cough*SungJoon*cough*), but then there are others (*cough*SooHyuk*cough*) that I’m impatiently waiting for to pick up a new drama so I can see those post-army abs.

Tree With Deep Roots (SBS)

This is the first drama that I recall live-watching. I vaguely remember regretting it at the time, since it was agony waiting for new episodes, but it was also fun to have a week to speculate and ponder the show. And what a beautiful show to ponder! This was also one of the few sageuks I actually watched, being generally intimidated by anything longer than 16-20 episodes, and my historical knowledge was a little shaky (before embracing my inner nerd and diving into mundane historical stuff just so I could better understand whatever drama I was watching at the time).

I don’t think I intended to continue live-watching shows, preferring the ease of binging at my own pace and schedule. But that was when I was still a casual, innocent addict, and not someone who would eventually make dramas a huge part of her life.

2012: The Joy of Overthinking

Gaksital (KBS)

Having had a taste of live-watching, I started to live-watch enough dramas to the point where I began to make notes about the premiere weeks. It was only a couple at a time, and binging was still my preferred way to watch, but now I was delighting in being part of the fandom, sharing in speculation each week, posting my thoughts on dramas and analyzing them to my heart’s content -- even though I knew no one except me would read my ridiculous essays.

But I started to feel more comfortable sharing my opinion with the world, interacting with fandom and not merely content to be a consumer, but gradually becoming a producer as well.

Reply 1997 (tvN)

This is it. This is when I went full-on Drama Addict. This is the tipping point from casual fan who quietly kept to herself, to becoming someone who stood on the mountain top yelling about ALL THE DRAMAS ALL THE TIME. I began to interact with other fans! To swap theories and share squee-worthy moments! I even watched episodes RAW just because of how desperate I was to know what happened, and even though the Busan accent stumped me more than once, it made me realize that my casual study of Korean was something to take seriously since I understood more than I gave myself credit for.

It was also the first time any post I made got more than a handful of notes, since I’d mostly hovered in the “less than 10 notes per post” category at the time. I was so proud of myself back then!

(This drama also notably marks the start of my Hoya obsession, which continues to this day.)

2013: Tumblr Friends (and Foes)

Flower Boy Next Door (tvN)

Having made myself comfortable on tumblr as a Drama Addict, I then discovered some other dedicated fans -- many of which I still follow to this day and who are now just a permanent part of my dash, no matter what their current interests may be -- in the FBND squad.

But I also discovered Kim Seul-gi as the Webtoon Editor (who I still love and adore and continue to use as my avatar), and her adorable romance with Dong-hoon remains one of my forever OTPs. As much as I enjoyed the drama romances, I’d never fallen so deeply for one to be so obsessed by it as I was Webtoon Editor and Dong-hoon. And tbh I still am. They’re just so adorable and pragmatic and she buys him a bag. Ugh. I love her so much, you guys.

Heirs (SBS)

Ah, yes. This hot mess.

I don’t know what possessed me to live-blog each episode. But I did. With snarky commentary and terrible screencaps. And suddenly I went from maybe 200 followers to over a 1000. That was a total shock! I met a lot of people because of that (and made some friends, as well as a few enemies who didn’t appreciate my opinion of certain characters), and ensconced myself as part of the drama-blogging crew.

It was from this that someone suggested I apply to be a minion at Dramabeans. Back then, I had a lot more free time than I do now, and I was watching a lot of dramas that Dramabeans didn’t cover, and wished they did so I could read more opinions about those shows. So I thought, “Eh, why not? It can’t hurt to submit something because the worst that would happen is I’d waste their time making them read my take on episode 10 of Let’s Eat.”

I fully expected them to turn me down. No one was more surprised than I was when I found myself agreeing to dive into the world of recapping.

2014: It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

Trot Lovers (KBS)

Recapping. It seems so easy when you’re reading the recaps. But actually creating them is a bitch. Hours out of my life were spent on this disaster of a trope-laden show with no plot. This was the third show I worked on for Dramabeans, and I hated it to the point where I seriously considered handing in my notice. (Immediately following up this show with the mediocre My Secret Hotel certainly didn’t help matters!)

However, it turns out that what I actually hated was being forced to watch a terrible rom-com and pretend to come up with insightful-or-at-least-neutral thoughts about it (since we were still new and couldn’t go full-on snark yet).

Misaeng (tvN)

This is what saved me. Being given the chance to immerse myself in such a unique, ponderous, thoughtful show restored my faith in dramas and the drama community. I loved spending hours on this show, soaking up all the little details, and then sharing that love with the world.

Misaeng made dramas magical again.

2015: Fight Me

Valid Love (tvN)

Realizing that I only seemed to enjoy rom-coms at arm-length, I discovered that my tastes often ran counter to the general drama-viewing public. Not all the drama-viewing public -- I’m not a “not like other fans” kind of fan -- but enough that I began to realize the whether a drama was popular or had good buzz was not necessarily the primary reason to watch it.

I began to have more faith in my own taste, based on past experiences with various writers and directors. Even if the premise (or first couple of episodes) seemed kind of weird and out-there, I at least wanted to give these artists the benefit of the doubt that I would enjoy their work, like I had previously.

So many people seemed to hate Valid Love, but I adored it. Still do (and still desperately wish Kim Do-woo would come out with a new drama -- it has been too long, writer-nim!). There were a lot of opinions about this show, even among people who seemed to enjoy it, but I vividly recall having to repeatedly insist that it wasn’t about the romance and argue that  the knee-jerk infidelity-is-BAD opinions should make space for something more nuanced.

Ho-gu’s Love (tvN)

DramaFever was a pretty great site. It brought together so many drama fans and gave them a place where they could legally (and without fear of downloading random viruses) watch dramas to their heart’s content. Yes, there may have been some lingering resentment that they were the primary reason that so many amazing other sites were shut down (RIP mysoju and daebaeksubs), but dramas were more accessible than ever!

Eventually, DramaFever started to sub shows themselves and upload them weekly (instead of just using fansubs and uploading older dramas), and while they weren’t the best translations, they were at least better than machine translations from the Chinese subs. As I became more and more familiar with Korean, I found myself more likely to migrate to Viki since I liked the extra detailed translations. I could get the gist of a show without any help -- I wanted to instead delve into the nitty-gritty of the language.

But I never really hated DramaFever or felt they were particularly awful. Until they mistranslated something so terribly that it changed the entire meaning of a scene and ruined people’s perception of a drama, forcing me to continually defend the true translation.

That was the molehill I died on that day, and never again did I touch DramaFever. I feel bad that it eventually got unceremoniously shuttered. But I don’t think I’ll ever forgive them for the “condom” incident.

2016: Free Solo

Dear My Friends (tvN)

For two years I’d been happily working on one episode a week, sharing a show with someone else, until I was asked if I’d like to tackle a show by myself. I wasn’t sure how I could handle it, but I had the time in my schedule so I said, “Sure, why not?”

I was originally going to recap Another Oh Hae-young, but there was a last-minute switcheroo, and I’m so incredibly glad because this is perhaps my favorite recapping experience of all time, even more so than Misaeng. There was something so special about the luxury of having an entire show to myself, especially one with such a fantastic cast of characters and thoughtful themes. I didn’t have to try and figure out if I agreed with another person’s take -- it could all be my opinion.

Is that arrogant? Perhaps. But it was also therapeutic, as it reminded me once again how incredible and amazing dramas could be, and the privilege I had to share such an exquisite and thought-provoking drama with the rest of the world.

The Good Wife (tvN)

Surprisingly, this was what I had really wanted to recap that year, and the true reason I got Dear My Friends, since it aired just prior in the same time-slot as The Good Wife. I was desperate to have this show, willing to do anything to get it because I needed to see Jeon Do-yeon back on the small screen, to see Yoo Ji-tae smolder, to know how Korea would adapt such an ambitious show.

And I wasn’t disappointed! This is, perhaps, my favorite adaption of another work of art that I’ve seen in dramaland. It remained true to Korean sensibilities, but it also properly felt like The Good Wife. The cast was phenomenal. The costumes were exquisite. I wished I could spend more time in that world.

But I was also thankful, because without The Good Wife, I would have never have had Dear My Friends. 

2017: Serial-Killers Are Cool

Voice (OCN)

I can’t remember how I got assigned to this. Maybe it was a scheduling thing. I do know that I really, really wanted it, since it would be Handsome Oppa’s first drama appearance in three years.

But it started me down a road of recapping a lot of serious and serial-killer-centric shows. Except for the times when I’d beg for a break and tackle something lighter, I was generally assigned the darker mystery shows with meaty plots, since apparently I had a knack for condensing complicated shows into something that made sense. (Also literally darker, and I eventually learned to automatically brighten every screencap I posted. You’re welcome.)

Not only did I love working on something with Handsome Oppa, I also had fun recapping the start of what would eventually become OCN’s stock-in-trade -- creepy serial killers. At the time, Voice shattered OCN’s viewer ratings (which would then be shattered again and again as more people would tune in to OCN shows). But Voice really helped put OCN on the viewership map -- as well as catapult Handsome Oppa into the public eye and lead him to a path of getting to choose whatever script he wanted to work on.

(Okay, maybe I made that last bit up, but he did begin to garner a larger following and remind everyone that just because he was gone from dramaland for so long, he hadn’t lost his acting chops -- or charisma -- or cheekbones.)

Black (OCN)

Oh, this show. It was basically my whole life while it was airing (well, the non-day-job part of my life). Each episode was over an hour long and jam-packed full of details that were pertinent to the story, and I had to somehow condense that all into 3000 words or less (I was not always, ah, successful...). It felt like I was back in recapping bootcamp, but the dial had been turned up to 11.

I’m weirdly proud of what I produced (although you’ll never get me to reread my old work). It was one of the most challenging shows to work on, but in the good way, not the Trot Lovers way.

Until the ending, that is. Sigh. That ending will live in infamy. I still, to this day, will get a few comments on the finale from people who watched it on Netflix, went searching online for an explanation of the end, and then discovered that they were not alone in being confused by the utter wtf-ery of the last twenty minutes.

2018: Fighting For My Love

Misty (JTBC)

So, Dramabeans kind of disappeared for a few months. Well, the site was still live. There were a handful of recaps. But... it basically just... stopped. 

Those of us on the other side know about as you do as to why that happened. Minions are kept in the dark just as much as anybody, it seems. All we knew is that we weren’t being assigned anything and we seriously wondered if the site was going under, since adsense has become worthless these days.

But Mary and I kept talking about how much we adored Misty and were sad that we couldn’t talk about it with the world (and convince them to watch it with us), so we pleaded and begged and got the go-ahead to do a kind of chatty “open thread” which has apparently been a spring-board format for other shows. We didn’t get paid for this, and we were totally fine with that. We just wanted to provide some kind of content (while swooning over Kim Nam-joo’s pantsuits!).

Let’s Eat 3 (tvN)

This was my first real assignment after the dead period, and I once again got to do full recaps (with pay!). I started watching, thinking I’d merely tolerate the show (since I loved the first season vastly more than the second season), but it turned out to be my favorite of the three. Plus it felt fortuitous that the series I had submitted my application would be a series I’d work on four years later.

Sometimes it’s nice to spend time with a character you met years ago, to see them grow, to see how they became what they became. Drama trends (and love interests) will come and go, but Goo Dae-young’s love of food (and love of explaining the proper way to eat food) will never change. It was a really comforting drama for me to spend my summer on, and I’ll remember it fondly, even if I’m forever sad that it had to suddenly wrap-up two episodes early.

2019: Ten Years Later

Item (MBC)

This was the Trot Lovers of 2019. It was a nonsensical disaster.

I also had the added chaos of my real-life job -- one very different from the one I had when I was working on Trot Lovers -- as it began to increase exponentially in responsibilities and in stress. I reached a breaking point where I began to hate opening my computer where I’d have to spend hours attempting to explain a show that I wanted nothing to do with. I was miserable and depressed and couldn’t do it anymore. I never before asked to be taken off a show because I hated it so much, but there’s a first for everything.

Her Private Life (tvN)

I actually haven’t finished this show -- I’ve yet to watch the last two episodes. But I’m including it because, well, I didn’t finish any other show in 2019 except for Item.

As some of you may know, this has been a difficult year. It started with the unexpected stress of my job, when we suddenly lost one of our directors who passed away, and another director was let go (in a complicated situation that is ongoing, but the important thing is that it was during our busiest time when we really couldn’t afford to lose anyone), and another director left for a different job and I was basically the one to pick up all the pieces she left behind. It was exhausting and we were all past the breaking point but somehow miraculously holding it together.

I was looking forward to finally getting a much-needed vacation in September, and then, well, you all know how that went: the first night, on our layover in New Zealand before what was supposed to be three weeks in Australia, my father was taken to the hospital, and then, two days later, he passed away. Life has gotten even more chaotic and stressful and bizarre since then.

So no, I haven’t finished this drama, but it was one of the most wonderful moments of the year for me, watching this fizzy rom-com with my favorite actor, where he got to be charming and handsome and charismatic and finally kiss the girl he loves and have her love him back (and not die or be dumped, as he had been in so many dramas that had gone before). Lion Oppa was everything my heart could desire, and living in his world helped me endure the insanity that I wish I’d known would seem so much more tolerable than what would eventually befall.

Her Private Life reminded me of when I first fell in love with dramas ten years ago, when I would giggle and be delighted by the charming nonsense on screen -- of beautiful people falling in love and fighting against the obstacles between them (some more ridiculous than others, perhaps, but there are always obstacles), and ending up happily ever after. Pure escapism, of the frothiest kind.

A Drama-filled Decade

So, after ten years of dramas, what is the takeaway? What have I learned?

I suppose I’ve learned to trust my instincts and put more faith in writers and directors than actors. That analyzing dramas is fun, and it’s even more fun sharing it with others, and sometimes even more fun if you get paid to do it -- but everyone eventually reaches a breaking point. That I’m too earnest and optimistic to embrace a life of snark. That I want every drama to be good but most of them aren’t, except sometimes they are. That I’m not even sure which genres are my favorite; I just know what I don’t like.

That dramas are best as escapism, and not as work.

I don’t know how many dramas I’ll watch in 2020. I haven’t paid any attention to what’s airing, and I’m okay with that. Perhaps I’m entering a new phase in my life, or perhaps I just don’t have the capacity to escape right now.

But I am pleased to have had dramas in my life, and to have eventually made them my hobby. I’ve met a lot of amazing people and made some genuine friends through a shared love of dramas (or, at times, a shared hatred). I’m honored that all of you are still here and following me, even during this period of fandom silence.

May 2020 treat us all better, and may Kim Do-woo finally write another script.

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 25: Jackalope

September 1884: Digby, California

Arthur had called at their cottage as usual, and Francis Gillis had left his perusal of the ranch’s accounts.  Mary had heard them talking as she finished getting ready, giving Jamie a smile and ruffling his hair fondly.  He smiled delightedly at her, and as ever, the sight of their mother’s blue eyes tugged at her heart.  He’d never know Hope Gillis, given she’d died giving birth to him.  And clearly Daddy wasn’t inclined to remarry, had buried himself in keeping Mr. Digby’s accounts.  So at fourteen, she’d become all the mother Jamie would have.  When she married--well, that was a couple of years out yet, perhaps.  Though she had hopes, and her cheeks flushed hot at the thought of it, and she had to keep herself from rushing down the stairs to meet Arthur.  A lady wouldn’t rush. 

A lady wouldn’t do a lot of things.  Fifteen minutes later, they’d left the buggy hidden down near the creek in that old shed Arthur had found, and their sedate Saturday drive had turned around entirely, the two of them on Hector’s back, her clinging to him tightly as he set Hector flying across the rolling hills.  Feeling the heat and solid strength of him beneath her fingers, and--oh, her imagination and fancy flew every time she was with Arthur Morgan, and the surge of wanting delighted and frightened her at once.  It was like this, galloping across the hills, wild and free and laughing, careless of the breeze in her hair, rather than being tucked away into a very proper buggy alongside a very proper young man. 

There were things a lady wouldn’t do.  Couldn’t do.  The things they did had their risk already, but he knew they couldn’t dare enough to risk being caught in a compromising position, let alone risking her ending up in a delicate condition.  Arthur had always respected those limits, which proved that there was a gentleman within him beneath that brash uncouth exterior, much as he liked to claim otherwise.  Still...there was plenty that could be done safely enough with curious hands and a few unfastened buttons, plenty they’d discovered together, and a shiver ran down her back at the memory.

He stopped Hector, and swung down from the saddle, reaching up to help her down.  She looked around, seeing nothing but the hills, like they were the only two people in existence.  Like nothing else mattered.  Like the world that said the nephew of two roaming gamblers was no match for an accountant’s daughter fell away.  She knew he was more than that, and being the ward of two confidence artists was far worse, and if her father ever found that out--but one could hardly help one’s family, could they?  He’d sworn to her, and she believed him, that he would be good enough for her.  That he would try to find a way.  He was smart, he’d make himself respectable.  She believed that with the total passion of a young woman in love.

“Always like it out here,” Arthur said, glancing at her.  “It’s peaceful.”

“It is,” she said with a nod, closing her eyes.  This wasn’t her world, she would always prefer the ranches and cities she’d grown up on, where everything made secure sense, but it made for such a fine place to visit. 

Sitting there with him in the grass, Hector grazing peacefully nearby, she looked at him and asked, “Will you be staying the winter?”

“Don’t know yet.  Dutch and Hosea have plans, as usual.  Talking about maybe heading east before the snow.  Nebraska, Illinois, thereabouts.  If that happens, we might not be back until summer.” 

Gone, for six months at least?  If you said “Run away with me”, I’d go with you.  It was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed the words.  She couldn’t be one of them.  Couldn’t make herself into a thief, even the sort of generally harmless silver-tongued tricksters that they seemed.  Roguish robbers made for very nice books, but not a very reassuring reality.  “How have things been with your family?”

“Good, good.  We made quite the time of it last week selling a jackalope over in Truckee.”

“Pardon?  You sold what?”

“A jackalope.  Some critter that Hosea had heard railroad boys talking about.  A jackrabbit with antlers, Mary.  It’s as made up as unicorns, but some folk will believe anything.  So we get this fella to taxidermy one up, pretty as a silver dollar, and we sold it to this rich fool from Boston collecting specimens for a museum--”  He was laughing as he said it.

“Arthur!”  She was appalled at first, then wanted to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it, then appalled with herself for wanting to laugh, and appalled with herself for being so afraid to laugh.  What was it about this man that made everything within her orderly self and her orderly world into such a muddle from the moment she’d met him?

She looked over and saw him looking away, the muscle in his jaw tightened, his fingers playing over the tips of the grass in an idle back-and-forth arc.  “I guess sometimes we all need some dreams and lies to believe in, Mary,” he said, and there was something tired in his voice, something far too old for a young man of twenty-one.  He would never tell her about his childhood, about how he’d come to be living with his so-called “uncles”.  He’d always say it didn’t matter, and she supposed it didn’t.  Only the man he became mattered.  But sometimes she wished he would tell her, and she could tell him about how frightened she’d been after her mother died, about becoming Jamie’s mother and sister all in one.  About how her father had guarded and protected her ten times as hard.  “This world gets to be too much otherwise.”       

She nodded.  “I suppose maybe it does.  But the right thing isn’t always the easy one, now is it?”  It might be a sin to excuse blatant trickery like that, but she supposed if one silly bunny with antlers delighted people, then perhaps it was a harmless lie.  The trouble was that holding fast to honesty and virtue made for such a slippery slope when one began to think like that, and she wasn’t sure where the drop began.  With Arthur, she never knew, so she could only hope that he could step away from that, and become the good and kind man she saw inside him, shorn of all the deceptions and lies.