#I did manage to recover everything but I spent that entire month wanting desperately to work on it and being completely unable to

[singingcookie]

god I missed being able to write so bad

#kelly speaks #writing stuff #yeah so fun fact: my laptop died just before Thanksgiving #and there was a solid month and a half where I thought I lost everything I had written that hadn't been posted for DoJ #I did manage to recover everything but I spent that entire month wanting desperately to work on it and being completely unable to #I missed my usual anniversary posting goal and was just...especially miserable LOL #so if anyone follows me and happens to read my izuocha slow burn #now you know why I wasn't fucking updating lmao #can't wait to write this on the next chapter's author notes

[quokkacore]

everywhere at the end of time | z.cl

summary: in his old age, chenle can’t remember any of it anymore. but you do. you do, and it burns.

pairing: zhong chenle x fem!reader

genre: ANGST, fluff, slice of life, parents au

warnings: dementia, themes of grief, depression, language, suggestive content, period typical sexism, mentions of domestic abuse (not from chenle!), traditional gender roles, body image, kind of implied postpartum depression

word count: 3.8k

a/n: this was inspired by the caretaker’s everywhere at the end of time, a compilation of albums meant to simulate memory loss from dementia when listened to in one sitting. i listened to half of it yesterday, and it was so haunting i needed to write about it. if you decide to listen to it, please be careful. several analyses i’ve seen about it talk about how it can be very emotionally distressing. i personally didn’t feel too upset by it, but be aware.

There was a boy who smiled at you once, from across a dance hall. Long, long ago. His grin, boyish and playful, made your face heat up and your body turn to giggle to your friends. And then, suddenly, he was walking over to you, and reaching out his hand to you. He didn’t seem nervous at all. He looked like he had not a care in the world, as if life were a calm ocean with soft winds and he were a sailboat.  

“My name’s Chenle,” He’d said, speaking loudly over the music, “Wanna dance?”

Swing was the thing back then. You barely had time to tell him your name before he pulled you onto the dancefloor and spun you around like there was no tomorrow. You were quite literally swept off of your feet, flying across the hardwood floor as the two of you laughed and danced. When the song was over, you were out of breath. You weren’t quite sure if it was because of how hard you’d danced or because he managed to steal your breath and your heart within a matter of minutes. 

Up until then, you were damn sure that love at first sight was impossible. But you were suddenly very sure that love at first dance existed. You’d tell that story for years to come. How you danced a few more songs, how he took you to the side and you spent the next hour or so talking. How your girls tried to tug you away, saying that it was getting late, but you simply didn’t want to leave. You were hooked on him, and he was hooked on you. He begged to see you again, and you very quickly found a napkin and a pen to scratch down your home phone number on. 

You said you’d wait for his call, and had left with a lovestruck look on your face. The entire way home, the girls didn’t let you hear the end of it. That he seemed sweet, he was quite the dancer, and my, was he handsome. You probably looked like a fool, mind turning to mush at how gentle his hands were on his waist, how contagious his laugh was, how tentatively he’d listened to you speak.

Once. Long, long ago. It’s all just a burning memory, now.  

There was a boy who kissed you, once. It’d been a few months after you’d met. He’d been careful, and you’d bided your time. When he called for the first time, he was very respectful when your father had picked up. The two of you spoke for however long your parents allowed it, talking about anything, everything. 

Childhood stories of how he got the scars on his knees. Times you’d gotten into trouble at school. How you were both turning 18, and how adult responsibilities were starting to set in. How Chenle was set to inherit his father’s business and he was terrified of failure. How you desperately wanted to study but your parents wouldn’t let you, because men don’t like it when girls are smarter, and how would you have time to find a husband if you had your nose stuck in books all day long?

Desperately, you both needed a break. Your parents let him take you out because he was a Zhong, and the Zhongs had money, and because he seemed quite taken by you. That was exactly what they wanted. 

Chenle was a gentleman first and foremost when he stepped into your home. He spoke with your father about politics while he waited for you to finish getting ready, complimented your mother, and opened the front door for you as you were leaving, promising to have you back by ten o’clock. 

One date turned to two, two to three. On the fifth date, when he took you on a walk in the park, he took you to the gazebo to sit on a bench in it. The birds were chirping, and you felt content, despite the dull ache in your feet because of your heels. 

Chenle looked down, before meeting your gaze. “I wanted to ask you something,” He murmured. You tilted your head to the side, uncrossing your legs.

“What is it?”

He took your hand in his, leaning closer. “I really like you,” He admitted, “And I wanna be with you. You’re sweet, and fun, and you’re so beautiful. I think about you all damn day, and I think I’d die without you here.”

He smiled fondly, those dimples making an appearance once again. “Be my girl, maybe?” 

Your heart did a backflip, and your yes had tumbled from your lips before you could even really think about it.

And then finally, on your seventh date, when he’d taken you to a bookstore and bought you a book about the Amazon rainforest, he kissed you in his car. He tasted like mint and his lips were hard against yours, but not forceful. Like he’d been waiting eons to kiss you and now he simply couldn’t hold himself back anymore. His hands held your face the entire time.

When you pulled away, you no longer saw a boy in front of you. You saw a young man in his place, watching you with reverence and desire.

“I’ve been waiting to do that ever since I first laid eyes on you,” Chenle whispered. 

“Well then, don’t just sit there,” You answered, nuzzling your face into his hands, “Kiss me again.”

Kiss you he did. The memory feels like a dream, a sweet one at that. A bit fuzzy but you can recall the softness of his hands if you think about it hard enough. 

It’s a memory. Sixty something years later, at least you still have it.

There was a man who teared up at the sight of you in white, once. 

He asked you to marry him a year and a half later. Your parents loved him, because he was kind and respectful and rich. His parents tolerated you, because you didn’t talk back too much and your family was respectable enough. Of course you accepted. Who cared about what your parents thought? You adored this man, with his high pitched laugh and his cheeky words. He worshipped the ground you walked on, with your caring attitude and your loving smile.

You were shaking the whole time, trembling like a wet chihuahua on a winter day as your father walked you down the aisle. You watched as his best man, Jisung, whispered something to him, and he nodded, blinking furiously. He looked awestruck, mouth agape and eyes glossy. 

When your father left you at the front of the altar with Chenle, your lover squeezed your hand. “I love you so much,” He whispered to you, just before the ceremony could officially begin.

For the first time ever, you saw Zhong Chenle get nervous. His voice was shaking slightly, and you could make out a single drop of sweat on his forehead. You squeezed his hand reassuringly, unable to say anything back as the officiant began the ceremony. He knew what you meant.

Your vows were the traditional cookie cutter vows, the good old fashioned “I do”s. You didn’t care. You knew you’d whisper your own vows to him later tonight. You knew he would do the same. 

After that, you danced the night away. Drunk on champagne and love for each other, you could barely remember the party. Jisung gave a lovely speech. You knew that the band played the song you’d first danced to on that one fateful night. Your girls danced with his boys, and he pressed kisses to your cheeks and the top of your head.

You remembered what came after better, after everyone went home. Chenle stole you away to the honeymoon suite to peel your dress off, take off your veil and press kisses onto your hips, and whisper promises of everlasting love against your neck.

That’s all gone now. Even though it’s gone, you’re glad. Because years later, you remember. You look at the faded photographs in the scrapbooks and remember the moment they were taken. They’re all you have now. Because even though Chenle is still in your home, he isn’t Chenle. 

There was a man who had taken care of you, once. You’d had your doubts about love, about married life. All of them stemmed from your parents’ marriage. Late night arguments, slamming doors, hands laid on your mother that left her reaching for foundation to hide the bruises during the day. Chenle was there to cast most of them to the side.

Most of them, because no matter how much you love each other, marriage is never a walk in the park. You tried to study. Chenle was paying for your education, much to his parents’ disapproval. Three years into your marriage, and two years into your studies, you got pregnant. Chenle was ecstatic. You, not so much.

It was hard for you. Your body changed, it became hard for you to concentrate. You ended up dropping out because it was simply too much for your mind to handle.

A few months later and you were recovering, trying to adjust to not getting any sleep and having to take care of a tiny human and the house all day while Chenle was off at work. And he doesn’t just want one, he wants two more.

“God, Lele, at least wait until Jiali can sleep on her own,” You huffed, trying not to be too loud. You had finally managed to get your daughter to sleep after a particularly fussy day, and if she woke up now, you were pretty sure you’d start crying too. 

“But why not?” He asked, sitting down. “Don’t you want to give Jiali brothers and sisters to grow up with?”

“I do,” You answered, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head. “But I’m too tired to handle another pregnancy right now. It’s way too much, Chenle.”

Chenle sighed, resting his face on his chin. “It can’t be that hard—”

“Are you joking?” You snapped, standing up, “I’m awake in the morning to make you breakfast and feed Jiali. Once you’re off, I have to make the bed, change her diapers, clean the floors and the bathroom. I have to make sure Jiali isn’t getting into trouble and figure out why she’s crying—and she cries so much, Chenle! I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep since before she was born. I barely have time to take care of myself, much less another baby. I make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and tend to the garden, and bathe her when she gets dirty, and—”

“Y/N, I think you should—”

“I can’t handle another baby!” You cried, “I can’t, I won’t!”

A high pitched wail rang from the nursery, and all the fight you had in you drained instantly. You hadn’t realized how loud you were being. 

“I’ll be right back,” You murmured, voice breaking. Before you could walk towards the nursery, a gentle hand on your wrist pulled you back. Chenle’s gaze had softened, cupping your cheek and wiping at a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. 

“No, I’ll go,” He said quietly. “You go clean yourself up. Take a nap, I’ll make sure she gets back to sleep."

You didn't have it in you to argue.

About an hour later, he stepped into the bedroom, where you were curled up on the bed. You weren't asleep. He sat down on the other side of the bed, caressing your arm.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, bowing his head. "I wasn't thinking straight. I just got so excited at the thought of us finally having a family, I forgot to think about how you were doing. If you don't want anymore kids—" 

"Lele," You murmured, "Of course I want to keep building our family. But I need time. I'm always so tired now. Let's wait until Jiali is off to school and then try for another one. I'm begging you."

He leaned over you, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Whatever works best for you," He answered.

You kept your promise. Once Jiali was off to preschool, you got pregnant a few months later. By the beginning of next year, you had a baby boy—Yanlin.

This time, Chenle was more mindful of your wellbeing. He came home from work earlier, helped out around the house, told you to go out with the girls every now and then. 

Over the years, you had one last child, a girl named Mei. The kids were more than a few handfuls, but the two of you managed. 

Things were by no means easy. There were nights when Chenle decided to sleep on the couch because of a disagreement that had grown into something bigger. Insecurities about your body that grew into jealousy of his secretary, who was younger, more beautiful. Issues with the in laws as the both of you had problems setting solid boundaries.

But at the end of the day, he was your everything. This life you'd built for yourself made it all worth fighting for. You saw it when he tossed Mei up into the air, catching her as she giggled, "Again, daddy, do it again!" 

Or when he talked to Jiali about the family business, how if she wanted, he'd teach her everything. When he helped Yanlin get back to sleep after he'd had a nightmare, singing him to sleep with that soft, gentle voice of his. When he looked at you from across the dinner table, years of domesticity and love growing into all of this.

Chenle was your home, the father of your children, a pillar you leaned on when things got difficult. You were the same to him. No argument could take that away. 

The kids grew up and went to college. Much to your father in law's dismay, Yanlin didn't care much about the family business, while Jiali did—he hated how Chenle encouraged them to do what they wanted instead of pushing the status quo. 

Times were changing. More and more women went to college, and you wanted for your daughters what you yourself weren't allowed to have: a good education, a professional career. 

Since time flies like birds migrating for the winter, soon all of the kids were grown up, and you and Chenle were left in an empty house. By then, the two of you had started to change, too. Gray hairs started sprouting from your heads. Your backs started to hurt with more frequency. Your faces were starting to sag. 

And still, you loved each other. You found new things to do with this new freedom. You read more books, spent more time in the garden. Chenle started singing around the house more, something he didn't even realize he was doing. 

When you turned fifty, Chenle took you on vacation to Malta, and Chenle decided to officially announce his retirement, handing the business to your oldest. From here on out, the two of you had time to simply do whatever you wished. Chenle had saved a lot of money over the years, allowing the two of you to live comfortably. 

Your kids married, and had kids of their own, and the two of you spoiled as much as you could. You'd bake cookies with your grandkids and spend the holidays telling them stories of your youth. Their favorite story was how you met their grandfather, and you fluffed the story up to make them laugh. 

"He was the handsomest man I'd ever seen," You told him, "Tall, sweet, funny, the best shincracker I'd ever danced with."

"What's a shincracker?" One of your grandkids asked. You blinked, before letting out a fake sob, raising your head up.

"I'm so old," You wailed, the kids giggling at your theatrics. When you looked down, you smiled. "In my day, that's what you called someone who danced very well."

The four of them ohhh-ed in unison, and someone in the kitchen doorway laughed. "So, I was the best shincracker you'd ever danced with, huh?"

"Honey, I've told you that a million times!" 

He walked over to you, patting the heads of your grandkids as he passed them. "Your grandma looked so surprised when I asked her to dance," He said to the children, "But she was the prettiest dame there that night, I couldn't not dance with her."

"What's a dame?"

Chenle stared at you, eyes wide. He lowered his head. "God, we're old!"

Now, most of your grandkids have grown up, and barely have time to visit. But you have the photographs hung up on the wall, of past birthdays, holiday parties, of your wedding. 

They work to help you remember. But now, Chenle can't even get out of bed to look at them.

There was an old man who'd broken down in front of you, once. He'd been having trouble remembering where things were, like his keys and his glasses. Initially, it didn't worry you, since you'd been having similar issues. You only started to worry when one night at dinner, you brought up the fact that Mei had called to ask the two of you to dinner next week. He'd looked confused, and stared at you like you were from outer space.

"Who's Mei?"

You scheduled a doctor's appointment the very next day. It took about two months for everything to reach the same conclusion: early dementia. Chenle had gotten very quiet as the doctor handed you some pamphlets on treatments and the different stages. The whole drive home, he said nothing. 

It was only once you got home that he sat down on the bed and crumbled to pieces. You walked over to him, and caressed his hair when he pressed his face into your stomach. 

"I don't want to forget," He sobbed, "I don't want to." 

He tried to fight it. Once the family knew, everyone started visiting more frequently. In the beginning, he could remember your grandchildren's names. Jobs and school were a bit difficult but there were eleven of them—it was hard for you, too. 

On the occasion he did forget someone, it frustrated him. He'd have to excuse himself from the table for a few minutes, and the energy in the dining room would change completely. Suddenly everyone was aware of the ticking clock, and your family was starting to crumble.

You wanted desperately to hold it together, to super glue it and force it back into place. But so many things were out of your control, on top of Chenle's diagnosis. Mei was going through a divorce. Your youngest grandson, Lijie, was having behavioral problems and Yanlin looked to you for advice. 

Chenle tried to hold on. You watched your husband pore endlessly over the family photos, trying to place names to the faces. He remembered his parents. He started to ask you where they were. You didn't know how to tell them they'd passed over thirty years ago. 

He wandered through the house like he was lost, and you knew he was trapped somewhere in his mind, everything disintegrating slowly around him. Sometimes he'd come up to you and give you a kiss.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," He murmured. 

Some days were better than others. He would sing old songs from your youth, and try to dance with you in the kitchen. You both still remembered the steps but were too stiff and slow to do them properly. 

Eventually, one of your grandkids came to live with you. Daiyu had studied to become a nurse, and now, Chenle needed around the clock care. It was simply too risky for him to be left alone. He'd try to go outside, saying that he was late for a meeting, or that Jeno—who had passed two years before his diagnosis—had invited him to his house to watch the game. 

He forgot how to hold a spoon, how to walk properly. After four years, he became bedridden, speaking in slow, short sentences. You'd read to him after lunch, from books you'd acquired over the years. He seemed to enjoy one book the most: a battered old copy of a book about the Amazon rainforest. 

You knew your Lele was in there somewhere. You could see it when Jiali and her husband came to visit, and he asked her about the secret handshake the two of them had even though he couldn't remember her name. When you reached for his hand, he would press a kiss to yours, unsure as to why he was doing it. And when you walked past the bedroom, sometimes you could hear him humming to himself—a lively, fast tempo song that a boy had once asked a girl to dance to, lifetimes ago. 

There was a man named Zhong Chenle, once. He was good at dancing and a lovely singer, he was a loving father and husband. He's gone now. In his place is someone who has his face, but isn't really him. He can't remember how to speak. When you read to him, his lips move, but no sounds come out. His eyes drift across the room, looking for things he doesn't know the name of. His hands are gnarled and his fingers twitch, itching to do something, anything, but unsure of how to do it.

The last time you spoke to your Chenle had been three years prior. 

"Do I know you?" He asked, voice small. You smiled at him, biting back tears. No matter how many times he asks you this question, it hurts every time. You'd learned to play along with it. Telling him the truth would only scare him, confuse him further.

"My name is Y/N," You told him, "I'm an old friend. We used to go out dancing together."

His eyes were void of anything until a second later, recognition pooled into them.

"Y/N," He sounded out slowly, "We should—we should go dance again someday."

"Someday," You agreed, nodding, "But now we have to wait until you're better."

"Until I'm better," He answered with a smile, dimples making your heart crack even further.

All he—and you—could do now was wait for the end. Truthfully, you've made peace with it. You'd be heartbroken to see him go but happy to see him finally rest. He started his decline seven years ago, and the past five have been spent like this. It's sad enough to see him in this way, to watch Daiyu try to feed him when he barely even remembers how to eat anymore. A shell of who he once was, a living ghost.

The family knew, old friends knew. That was all that mattered to you. That there had been a man named Zhong Chenle once, who wasn't scattered in the wind. 

Once. Long, long ago. It's all just a burning memory, now.

#nct dream x reader #zhong chenle x reader #kwritersworldnet #nct angst #chenle angst #kpop angst #kpop au #nct au #nct dream angst #chenle x reader #nct scenarios #kpop scenarios #my writing

[gaycrouton]

Ray of Light

For the first time since being back, he felt the heaviness weighing him down start to fade away. The fog had lifted and he could see the life he’d actually come back to — one where the love of his life was carrying his child. Not a life that had gone on without him, but one that desperately needed him there.

Alternatively; Mulder and Scully's first time after he's returned.

angst and pregnancy smut | discussions of trauma | msr | 7k | ao3 | dedicated to the wonderful @sclly​

Before Mulder had been abducted, he was finally in a relationship with Scully, or at least that's what he thought of it as. They didn't use the words dating or boyfriend and girlfriend, but they spent every night together, they were intimate in every possible sense of the word, and he'd never felt more loved in his entire life.

When he returned, she was pregnant, had a new partner at work, and on his first night back she drove back to her apartment and left him alone.

Looking back, he knew she was respecting the fact he said he needed time to process everything, but she had no idea how much it added to his confusion. He was uncertain of where he stood with Scully, so he buried himself in his work since it's where he felt most secure, despite her protests. Mulder knew people thought he was being rude, hell even he did at times, but every time he looked into Scully's eyes, he saw nothing but worry and sympathy.

Yesterday he'd broken into the census bureau with Agent Doggett, only for it to be a bust. They'd been laying low at Scully's apartment ever since, and the awkward tension between them just kept mounting. He tried to think of what to say, only to end up feeling like anything he said would come across as curt, and he wanted to avoid saying something else that might hurt her. The last thing he ever wanted was him coming back from the dead just to continue making her sad.

The first thing he noticed about his apartment was that it didn't look like the apartment of a man who'd been missing for months. It was spotless. Cleaner than he'd ever seen it. It made his heart ache thinking of the Scully who was so firm in her convictions he'd come back that she had clearly spent a lot of time making the apartment look great for his return. It made him feel even worse thinking of what response she'd imagined he'd have upon seeing it, only to be met with pure apathy.

As soon as he realized the molly was dead it just felt like a cosmic kick while he was already down. It might've just been one fish that could easily be replaced for $2, but that particular fish was part of a pair Scully had given him early in their partnership when she wasn't sure what he'd like as a gift. She'd been shy and sweet when she presented the black and white duo swimming together in a bag. "These were the only two left and I didn't want to split them up." He'd put them in the tank and, while the black one blended in with the others he had, the white one always swam around and reminded him of her. Now he couldn't even have that.

Despite the lack of communication happening right now, and how much work had been put into making him feel like his space was ready for him to come back, he still found himself staying at her apartment most nights. That first night he spent alone in his place was filled with dream after dream getting tortured — saws going into his chest, his skin being pulled from his body, the pain he could still feel resonating in his bones like a phantom limb. He'd wake up every few hours to the sounds of his own screams resonating off the empty apartment walls. There was always a pause where he waited for her to roll over or for the sounds of her footsteps to rush down the hallway, but it never came. The only thing that brought him comfort was that the bed smelled like her.

It didn't matter how clean his apartment was because that was never what he was coming back to. Scully was his home, and without her, he felt lost. Yesterday he never made a move to leave and she never asked him to. He wasn't sure if he was welcome in her bed, so he purposefully stayed up later than her and passed out on her couch. As had been their rapport as of late, she didn't say anything, but he could tell from her hurt expression that he'd made the wrong decision.

Luckily he could always trust Scully to know how to be his ray of light whenever he managed to lose his footing in the darkness.

"I know how you feel," she murmured lightly while sitting next to him on the couch.

It was so out of the blue he wasn't sure what to respond. The show they'd been watching had gone to commercial break and, apparently, so had them pretending everything was normal. He turned to her, wanting her to know he was giving her his full attention.

"When I came back, I um," she paused, her fingers starting to play with the silken edge of a maternity pajama top. "I felt so out of place within my own life. I felt like I didn't know how to be myself in a world that had gone on without me."

The irony was not lost on him that what he remembered most of those few months after she came back was how frustrated he'd been with her pushing herself. She'd taken a mere week off to recover from they didn't even know what injuries, and she was demanding to work as if all was fine. Mulder recognized it as a diversion tactic, it was more comfortable to focus on work than to process trauma, but he'd gotten frustrated with her, and here he was doing the same thing. The only difference seemed to be she knew from experience it didn't help.

"It took me years to feel like I'd caught up. I still have a hard time grappling with those months I was gone, and that I'll never get that time back. All the things I might've done in that time that were robbed from me. I remember when three months passed since I'd been returned, when I'd been back as long as I'd been missing, I still didn't feel fully like myself. Every external factor was the same, it was just me having a hard time adapting."

He listened to her, entranced by her admission. When he asked how she was doing back then, he'd gotten a lot of 'fines,' and he ended up not asking anymore in fear he was prying and annoying her. To hear her speak so candidly about her experience made him want to go back in time and hug the young woman who felt like he did now. He knew he was empathizing as best he could back then, but now having experienced what it's like, he realized there was no way he could have fully understood the depth and complexity of her emotions.

Scully turned to him with a deep breath and took his hand in her own. "I couldn't imagine coming back to every aspect of my life being different. I at least had the comfort of familiarity when I returned, and I could assimilate back into my old life while trying to process my trauma. I'm sorry if I was rushing you earlier when you said you were having problems processing and figuring out how you fit in."

Her ability to articulate what he was feeling was a relief, and almost eerie. Mulder knew he should say something so she didn't feel like she was talking to a brick wall, but she was saying it better than he ever could and he had missed the sound of her voice.

"I guess what got me through your absence was imagining your return," she admitted, confirming his earlier belief about her being at his apartment which now felt like a diorama of her grief. "I hate it when you're sad, so I didn't want to imagine you that way. It was wrong of me to cling to an image of you who'd come back and react like everything is fine when I know firsthand how unrealistic of an expectation that is to meet."

Mulder knew it was a sensitive question to ask, but he wanted to know. "How did you get through it when you thought I was dead? When it didn't seem like there was a possibility of me coming back?"

Scully's hold on his hand tightened as her face crumpled slightly. He squeezed her hand and stroked the skin on the back of her hand encouragingly. "I tried not to think of how you looked laying in that field," she stated, her voice quivering before a sharp staccato inhalation.

Shit. He hadn't even thought of the fact Scully might have seen his body like that. It made sense she'd want to see it and confirm for herself, Scully was a scientist who needed proof above all else, but he'd imagined her mourning his body on an autopsy table in the comfort of her own domain. Not that she'd seen him in whatever state he was crudely discarded in.

Mulder didn't think he could ever voice to her what he would have done if the situation was reversed and he had found her body dead in a field.

He could tell from her response that it was an image that had traumatized her, something that would no doubt haunt her for the rest of her life; but she managed to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and turn to him to continue.

There would never be a moment in his life where he wasn't astounded by her strength.

"I spent a lot of time in Karen Kosseff's office, and I just tried to focus on staying alive for the baby," she said, putting her other hand on her stomach.

His attention was drawn to the hand rubbing her stomach and that familiar knot of jealousy formed in his throat, threatening to choke him. Someone else had granted her the miracle he wanted to give her and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't even know if it was his place to be upset about it or if he was overstepping. The first time she'd done IVF, when she'd asked him, he felt included — like no matter what, he'd be a part of her and the baby's life. But clearly, she did it again and it made him feel like he hadn't actually needed to be a part of the process. That his involvement wasn't expected or, even worse, truly wanted.

While their conversation had made him feel better, it was that bump underneath her clothes that made him feel like he wasn't invited to a part of her life he wanted to be in more than she knew. Mulder wanted to tell her he'd raise the baby like his own if she'd let him, but the thought of her saying no felt like the last thing he could take right now.

"You can always touch me. You know that, right?" she asked softly off his look.

His hand itched to reach out, but it stayed in his lap. "I'm glad the IVF finally worked for you," he replied, putting all his effort into smiling to show he meant it.

Smiling looked like the furthest thing from her mind. "What?" Scully replied, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"What?" he repeated, confused by her confusion.

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as she bit it in concentration, a look of pain passing her face. "Mulder," she stated hesitantly. "Do you really believe this baby isn't yours?" she asked, hurt she was trying to hide leaking through her words.

Mulder shook his head, dumbstruck. "How could it be?"

"You were right," she shrugged. "I just couldn't give up on a miracle."

"I thought the in-vitro didn't work?" he replied.

"You do remember all the sex we were having before you were taken, right?" she deadpanned. "I trust you got the birds and the bees talk?"

"It's mine," he whispered in shock.

"It's yours," she confirmed with so much conviction his knees would have given out if he was standing. Then, with a layer of vulnerability, she added softly, "You didn't really think…"

Mulder's mind was reeling, but he could still tell she was hurt by his unspoken implication that she'd move on so quickly after how long it had taken them to get together, but he just hadn't known.

"I thought you tried in-vitro again. I thought maybe you asked someone else," he answered weakly, the statement out loud sounding ridiculous to his own ears.

"Who else do you think I'd ask? Skinner?" she asked.

He wasn't going to admit it, but he'd considered it. When he was in the hospital he saw how protective Skinner was of her, how close they seemed to have gotten since he'd been gone. Retrospectively he could see that they likely didn't have many people they could turn to when they were looking for him, so it made sense they would have gotten closer.

"I thought maybe an anonymous donor," he answered with a grimace.

"I could barely get out of bed when you were taken, let alone decide it would be a great time to have a baby," she replied. "Though I will say, I'm glad I had a part of you with me to get me through this. I'm not sure how I would have handled it if I wasn't so concerned with keeping myself healthy for the baby. If I even could have."

Mulder couldn't handle thinking about that, so he focused on her delicate hand resting in his own, the hands that had healed him in more ways than he could count. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed her fingers, inhaling the smell of her lotion as he reveled in the feeling of her skin on his lips once more. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I-I just thought since it didn't work that time and then I saw you pregnant that maybe it was my fault it failed in the first place. I didn't mean to make you feel like I resented you. I never did for a second. I was just depressed that the life I'd been wanting for you and I was happening without me."

Her fingers tightened around his as he pressed their joined hands to his heart. "You're here now," she replied with an encouraging smile.

For the first time since being back, he felt the heaviness weighing him down start to fade away. The fog had lifted and he could see the life he'd actually come back to — one where the love of his life was carrying his child. Not a life that had gone on without him, but one that desperately needed him there.

He looked down at her swollen stomach and felt a smile break out on his face. Scully was pregnant with their baby. The words didn't even feel real. It felt too good to be true. She tugged his hand towards her and brought it to her stomach, pressing it against her bulge while splaying out his fingers. When Mulder looked up, she was smiling back at him and he realized how much he'd missed seeing that. He had never touched a pregnant woman's stomach before, and he was shocked at how firm it was. "What does it feel like?" he asked, astonished.

"At times, lovely, but most of the time I'm exhausted, feel disgusting, and look like an elephant," she chuckled.

He looked up at her and took note of how long and shiny her hair looked and how she truly exemplified that pregnancy 'glow' he always heard people talk about. She was absolutely radiant.

"You're beautiful, Scully," he murmured firmly. "Always."

He watched as tears immediately pooled in her eyes and her lip quiver. "Hey, hey, hey," he replied, scooting over and wrapping an arm around her to pull her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of his neck, pressing kisses to his skin after littering it with her tears. She smelled like cocoa butter and her skin felt unimaginably smooth. "Are you okay?" he murmured into her shoulder.

Scully pulled away slightly with a chuckle and shook her head. "Yeah, I've just been so emotional because of the hormones and I've hated how things were between us and I'm just so happy you're here," she explained, her voice quivering near the end. Without a moment's hesitation, he closed the gap between them, pressing his mouth to hers as if the mere act could be his benediction — a plea for an absolution only she could give.

She met him with equal fervor and for the first time in days, he was home, he finally felt alive.

It was different, kissing her while she was pregnant. It took more maneuvering than he was used to, but he liked it. Every time her stomach grazed his, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and overwhelming affection for her. "I missed you," she whispered against his lips between kisses. "So much."

He let his hands roam through her hair as they kissed, amazed at how thick it was and how the longer strands felt weaving like water in and out of his fingers. Mulder was surprised at the tonal change, but he figured it made sense. They deserved this little piece of heaven after the hell they'd just been through. Being in her arms was exactly where he wanted to be.

Somewhere between Scully pulling on his shirt and their legs shifting against each other, they ended up with Scully laying on her back on the couch while Mulder hovered above her. He was being mindful of not putting any weight on her stomach as he began kissing one of the tendons of her neck, smiling as he felt her pulse thrum under his tongue. A shiver went down his spine as he felt her rake her long fingernails sensually down his back. He moved to the other side of her neck and kissed the vibrations of her moan.

The moment he registered something tickle his inner thigh, she already began palming him through the front of his grey sweatpants, eliciting a hearty groan. He felt his eyes flutter shut in ecstasy as she deftly moved her wrist, stroking him firmly through the fabric. "Scully," he rasped between clenched teeth, burrowing his face into her neck while pumping against her hand.

"Mulder," she rasped.

He pulled away to look at her and watched as she turned away and coughed. Realizing her rasp was out of a lack of breath and not lust, he sat back on his legs out of concern he'd been pressing on her. "Are you okay?" he panted.

She reached out for his arm and he pulled her up into a sitting position. "Yeah," she nodded with a smile. "The baby just smashes my lungs if I'm on my back for too long."

"Do you want to stop?' he asked, rubbing her arms.

"Absolutely not," she replied firmly before she all but pulled him off his feet and led him by the hand to the bedroom.

"What they say about pregnant women's sex drives must be true then, huh?" he teased, following behind her with his own bounding footsteps.

Upon entering her room she turned to him with a mock-severe look, "You have no idea."

Her intensity and the hunger in her eyes made his cock twitch. Mulder pulled her to him, pressing his arousal to her stomach. "I think I can help with that," he murmured.

He brought his hands up in between them and started undoing the buttons of her nightshirt, noting how her nipples were protruding against the fabric. When he'd done research after she initially brought up in-vitro and having a baby, he learned about how much more sensitive women's bodies became. Out of curiosity, he let one finger stray from his mission to flick one nipple teasingly.

His eyes widened with the intensity of her gasp. "Sorry, my breasts are sensitive," she chuckled breathily, confirming his suspicions.

"I didn't even know that was a possibility for you," he teased, knowing he'd made her come from breast play alone before. Not wanting to neglect the other side, he let the back of his index finger graze over the other pebbled nipple and watched as it seemed to become impossibly harder, her breath almost becoming labored from just that.

This was going to be fun.

When the last button was undone, he raked his fingers up her body in between the flaps of fabric. He gently touched the darker line that was running up the middle of her stomach, only pausing to lightly touch her now protruding belly button.

She laughed huskily and did a little pivot sway away from him. "That tickles," she chastised playfully.

He chuckled along with her as he went to her shoulders, sliding his hands under the fabric so that it slid down her arms behind her, fluttering down in a heap at her feet. The sight of her standing shirtless while pregnant in front of him was enough to take his breath away.

It was initially almost imperceivable, but he saw her hands instinctively go to cover herself, only to hesitate and join self-consciously in front of her stomach. At that moment it struck him that it hadn't been a one-off comment in the living room: she really felt insecure about herself. She was trying to hide it, her trust for him feeling like the greatest honor, but he could still see it in her demeanor change. "You have no idea how sexy you are," he praised when he caught her eye.

"Mulder, you don't ha-" she began with a slight shake of her head.

"Don't," he whispered. Mulder raised his hands and cupped her jaw in his palms, coaxing her to look at him fully and see his sincerity. "I love your body. You're carrying our baby, and I'm in awe of you. Scully, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my entire life, and that most certainly hasn't changed. I don't want to see you doubt yourself."

He was glad to see he hadn't lost the ability to make her blush since he'd been gone. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were misty again. "Thank you," she mouthed, her voice a ghost of a whisper. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, each cheek, and the tip of her nose before finally resting on her lips, hoping to convey his earnest adoration.

Scully's tongue slid into his mouth to deepen the kiss as her hands wrapped around him, sliding up under his shirt to play with the skin of his lower back. His hands slid away from her jaw and one entangled itself in her hair while the other reached around to cup the back of her neck.

However, where he anticipated meeting the slightly raised line of where he knew her little implant scar was, he felt something that felt significantly more raised. His eyes shot open as he pulled away, all other thoughts temporarily forgotten. Scully had a slightly chagrined expression on her face as her eyes tentatively peeked open.

He didn't wait before walking around her, gently moving her hair aside so he could have a better look at the back of her neck. The ghost of the white little scar he was anticipating had suddenly become paired with a raised, red, and angry scar next to her old one, only this one was far newer and deeper.

This was one of his favorite spots on her body. The tiny little scar was a reminder of her strength. He liked to kiss and touch the spot he knew held the miracle that helped keep her alive. Seeing this new wound right next to it made his heart race and his body go numb. "D-did someone cut out your chip?" he asked. Immeasurable guilt started to fill him at the knowledge that someone hurt her while he wasn't there. That someone tried to take something so important. Would her cancer come back?

She turned around quickly and reached up to mirror the centering touch he'd just given her as she cupped his face with her hands, her fingers gently scratching the fine hairs near his ears.

"No. No one tried to cut out my chip," she replied firmly.

"But did they inadvertently do so? What happened?" he asked, falling into his reflexive habit of becoming one-track-minded where Scully's safety was concerned.

"It's still there. I had them x-ray me when I got to the hospital. I promise, I'm okay," she pressed. "I can fill you in on all the cases you missed later, okay?"

There must've been something on his face that made her realize he'd be focused on it until he got a little more assurance than that. With a sigh, she stroked the skin of his cheeks and stated, "I initially had a hard time letting myself trust Doggett so I went on a case alone and some cultists tried to make me a host for their God. I'm not going to go into details right now because it's gross and I'm trying to have sex right now, but Doggett found me and I had to have him cut something out of me because we were running out of time. I promise it's not as bad as it looks."

"Doggett did that to you?" he repeated, the image of the man cutting her burning into his mind.

She rolled her eyes and looked at him pointedly. "I think you missed the part where I said I told him to. He saved my life, Mulder." She moved her hands down to rest on his chest, roaming his muscles with clear appreciation. Then she looked up at him with big eyes while teasingly pouting her lip. "I don't want to talk about Doggett or cases right now. I've missed you so much and I thought about this for months. Please don't make me wait anymore. I promise I'm okay and I'll fill you in on everything later. Just be here with me," she pleaded.

Mulder could never say no to her when she asked like that, so despite his curiosity, he smiled and nodded. They were in no rush, they had plenty of time. He'd ask questions tomorrow.

Tonight was for her.

"Okay," he replied, tucking an errant hair behind her ear.

"Good," she smirked triumphantly, a devilish gleam twinkling in her eye. "I don't want to be the only one half-naked anymore," she demanded.

His hands slid down her body and he smirked when he felt goosebumps arise in their wake. "You're right, you should be fully naked," he replied, tugging on the elastic waistband of her pajama pants. She let him slide the silk shorts down her legs, no underwear much to his delight, and she was visibly shivering in excitement as he palmed her bare hips in his hands as he stood back up.

Not wanting to dismiss her wishes though, he quickly rid himself of his shirt and his sweatpants so they were both standing nude. "Get on the bed," he commanded lowly.

She hummed in appreciation and crawled onto the bed, the roundness of her stomach visible between her thighs as she made her way up to the headboard and her arousal glistening prominently. She was so wet it was already leaking onto her inner thighs and he felt proud to have been the cause. His erection that had weaned when they were talking about her injury had sprung back in full force upon seeing her fully naked again. God, he missed her.

Despite his arousal and excitement, he couldn't help but feel robbed of the opportunity to see these developments occur over time. Mulder wished he could have seen her body slowly change and develop as new life grew inside her. Suddenly he painfully related to her earlier sentiment regarding feeling indignant about the time that had been taken and all the moments he was robbed of. He wanted to hold her hair back when she had morning sickness, he wanted her to jump his bones anytime she wanted because of her hormones, and he wanted to be there every time she had a moment of doubt that told her she was anything other than beautiful so he could tell her how wrong she was.

They'd made love quite a lot in their short time together between her coming to his bed that night he got back from England and his being abducted, but as far as intimate relationships went, it was all still relatively new. He had only just started feeling confident he was proficient in the body and pleasure of Dana Scully. He'd been cataloging every freckle, memorizing every moan and gasp in the hopes of recreating them, and now he felt out of practice. Her body had changed and he was determined tonight to worship her and become reacquainted with her. He wanted to know the intricacies of Dana Scully both inside and out.

Mulder wanted to take his time. Crawling onto the bed after her, he approached her sitting form and kissed her while on his hands and knees. He knew there were going to be many new pregnancy-related changes, but now he was going to look out for any new scars or injuries that happened since they were last together. He just wanted to know so he could start to create a new future. Her skin was pale and delicate, her veins pale and blue underneath her skin like the blue lines on pulpy parchment. He wanted to use his tongue to write odes on her skin, he wanted to fill the spaces between the lines with 'I love you's, pink scrapes of his stubble, hickies left in his mouth's wake — he wanted her body to be a diary of his love. It was his goal to replace the memory of harsh, cruel hands and evil intentions and leave behind nothing but reassurances of his love and affection for her.

He pulled back, enjoying the way her body leaned forward instinctively to keep them connected, and watched as a content expression crossed her face. Her eyes fluttered open and she grinned impishly at him.

"What positions work best for you?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied in amusement. "I've never had pregnancy sex before."

"We're like virgins," he joked.

"Oh absolutely," she deadpanned, placing a hand on her severely pregnant stomach for emphasis.

Mulder snickered before he maneuvered onto his back, his cock bobbing in the air emphatically. He was adjusting himself when he felt Scully's knee come to nestle against his hip, her other going over him so she was sitting on his lap. Pausing his movements, he watched as she grabbed his erection and brought it closer to herself. However, instead of easing up on her knees and guiding him inside of her like he thought she was doing, she rocked back and forth while pressing his cock against her folds, rubbing his head against her clit with each movement.

"Fuck," he moaned, his hips inadvertently snapping up from pleasure and causing her to moan at the unexpected contact.

She continued her ministrations until her knees had his hips in a death grip and her movements were becoming erratic as her orgasm built. Mulder watched as she lifted herself up, but he pivoted his hips before she could sink onto him.

"Wait," he rasped.

"Mulder," she whined, dragging out his name as she pouted.

The sight amused him, and he nearly gave in. "There's something I need to do first," he explained.

"Do you have to do it right no-"

"Scoot up here and grab the headboard," he instructed.

Her pout quickly turned into a smile and an enthusiastic, "Oh!"

Doing as he instructed, she made her way up his body until she was straddling his face. "It's weird not being able to look down and watch you," she remarked once she braced her hands against the headboard.

Utilizing the way her stomach eclipsed his head underneath her to his advantage, he latched his mouth onto her clit without warning and added suction. "Shit!" she gasped, her body jerking in surprise. He reached his arms around her thighs so she was locked in place as he ran his tongue along her seam. She was so wet the mere contact had already drenched the lower half of his face. Her labia was swollen red from arousal and if her movements a moment ago were any indication, she was close to coming already.

He plunged his tongue inside of her and curved it so he was pressing against her inner wall, alternating between the pointed tip of his tongue and the flat of it when it was relaxed. He licked his lips and savored the taste of her. It was distinguishably Scully, but slightly different, sweeter, than he remembered. Even though his arms were around her thighs, she was still squirming as best she could. Knowing going back to her clit was what was going to send her over the edge, he swirled around it teasingly. Once, twice, then he latched on with suction while flicking the pointed edge of his tongue mercilessly against her clit.

A gasp tore from her lungs and was immediately followed by her panting his name with so much reverence it sounded like a prayer. Mulder felt her thighs start shaking and quivering against him with the power of her orgasm, and he didn't stop until she jerked away from him and placed a hand on his shoulder to signal she was too sensitive.

Scully adjusted herself so she was back in her original position, only stopping once to give him a deep kiss on the mouth. Mulder was too focused on what she was going earlier to notice much more, but now that she was sitting on his lap in the glow of the lamp, he realized her breasts were fuller now. Sitting up without dislodging her, he brought his hands up to cup them, playing with their weight in his hands. Scully's eyes shut in pleasure as her head rolled to her shoulder, leaning forward into his touch.

Mulder bent his head down and flicked his tongue over a pebbled nipple before taking the darkened areola into his mouth and sucking. "Mmm," she moaned, squirming against him in desperation for any contact. His cock was grinding into the flesh of her ass as she ground her clit desperately into his pubic bone.

He let go of one nipple to take a few deep breaths before moving onto the other one to give it the same attention. One hand was resting on the curve of her hip, stabilizing Scully, while the other rubbed her other breast and sternum. Mulder was so focused on playing with her, that he didn't fully register her grab his forearm so she could bring his hand to her face until he felt her lips clamp around his thumb. He felt his cock throb at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth sucking on his thumb.

Mulder released her breast with an audible suction as he looked up at her. If he let himself, he could have come from the look in her eyes alone. Scully kept her gaze even as she swirled her tongue around his thumb lewdly. He playfully bent it in her mouth and watched as her lips opened into a breathy chuckle. Pulling his hand away, he lowered it so he could spread her saliva around both her nipples, blowing a stream of cool air on them to make her shiver. He watched her nipples tighten in front of him before resting his hand on her inner thigh so he could swirl his thumb around her swollen clit.

"I want you," she gasped as she swiveled her hips to compliment his ministrations.

"Like this?" he asked.

"No," she mused. Then with displeasure added, "My knees are starting to hurt."

"Try laying on your side," he suggested, easing himself up as she got off him.

She laid down and faced the wall, presuming he was going to spoon up behind her. "What're you doing?" she asked when she saw him at her knees.

"Face the other way," he replied, straddling her bottom leg while bringing the other to rest against his hip. This way she could lay down on her side and wouldn't have to exert herself as much.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

While she was still laying on her side, she was pivoting slightly so she could face him. "Yeah," she replied while rubbing her top leg against his encouragingly.

He reached down and grabbed his shaft, rubbing the tip tauntingly between her folds before slowly easing himself into her. He watched her face to make sure he wasn't hurting her, but all he saw was an expression of content bliss. "You feel so good," she sighed, tilting her hips to give him room to go deeper.

"Jesus, Scully," he groaned in ecstasy as her walls clamped down around him like a vice.

One of her hands went to one of his legs and she began grasping at him, seemingly just wanting to touch him in any way she could. "More," she demanded.

As much as he wanted this to last for as long as possible, he was in no condition to deny her. He began pumping his hips against her, feeling her walls stretch to accommodate him as he slid in and out of her. Her breasts were bouncing tantalizingly and he watched as she brought her other hand up and began cupping herself, moving from one breast to the other haphazardly.

Leaning forward slightly, Mulder let his hand roam across her stomach, feeling the way it moved with each thrust. It was an odd experience, but insanely erotic at the same time. He repositioned his knees a little bit so he could angle his hips to try to hit her g-spot. Mulder had been pretty proficient at finding it before, but he felt his spongy head rubbing against the grooves of her front walls and he hadn't heard her telltale gasp yet.

He rocked his hips a little differently, trying a little farther back, and he saw her body tense as her breathing hitched. There it is. "Please don't stop," she begged breathlessly, her hands moving to grab fistfuls of the bedspread. He picked up the pace, hitting the same area repeatedly with the tip of his cock while sounds of pleasure flew out of her mouth mindlessly. "Yes. Need. Please. So good. More. Mulder," variants of those words at different volumes and tones with intermittent moans.

He felt a coil start to tighten in his abdomen and he knew he was close. Scully was too as she reached around her stomach to rub her clit with her middle and ring fingers. "That's it, Scully," he praised, locking eyes with her while their mutual bliss grew.

With one quick snap of his hips, he watched as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open as her body trembled with her orgasm. It was clearly taking a conscious amount of effort to keep her eyes open, and he was grateful for it because seeing her come undone was the single most beautiful and erotic thing he'd ever seen. The visual combined with the feeling of her spasming around him caused him to come right after her.

Scully stroked his hair as he caught his breath. "You mean so much to me," she mused out loud, her hand moving to cup his jaw while her thumbs carefully brushed over the scars on his face.

He still felt self-conscious about them, even though he knew it was silly and Scully herself said they'd heal soon. Trying to ignore his insecurities, he bent down to kiss her before he moved so that he was spooning her from behind, pulling a light blanket over them as he put his arm around her.

"Thank you, Scully," he murmured into her hair.

"I think you're the one who deserves the thank you. My knees would have given out a long time ago," she replied, placing her hand on top of the hand he'd placed on her stomach.

He chuckled lightly before shaking his head. "I wasn't talking about that, though I think you deserve some appreciation anyway," he remarked, kissing the crown of her head.

"Then what for?" she yawned.

"Everything," he stated simply.

He felt her about to say something but he interrupted her with a gasp when he felt something press against his palm. "Did you feel that?" she replied excitedly, her hand pressing into his and moving it slightly.

"Was that-"

"The baby kicked," she replied, the smile audible in her tone.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, it felt pretty strong against his hand, he couldn't imagine the internal version of that.

"Not really. It's oddly comforting unless it's on my bladder," she replied. "It's probably going to happen again."

They both laid in silence together for a moment in anticipation, only to simultaneously disrupt it with excited laughs when the baby kicked again. "That's amazing," he replied in awe.

"It really is," she mused in kind.

"Do you know what it reminds me of?" he asked.

"You better not say-"

"- the movie Alien," he replied, smiling when he heard her amused sigh.

He rubbed her stomach gently, both to touch Scully and to start trying to connect with the kid. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" he asked.

"Maybe, but I won't tell," she lilted cheekily.

"That's evil, Scully," he tsked, nudging her lightly with his knee. "I guess it doesn't matter. No matter what, the minute their little arms can hold up a bat I'm going to teach them how to play ball. You can help me since you've received top-notch training from the best," he declared.

Instead of responding, she turned so that she could look at him, and he realized she was crying. "Hey, hey. It's okay," he stammered, moving to stroke her hair and wipe away her tears.

"I'm so relieved you're here. I missed you so much and I was so scared I was going to have to do this alone," she sobbed, clutching his hand like he was going to disappear again if she let go.

Mulder felt his throat start to tighten in sympathy and he held her tighter while kissing her temple. He'd suffered so much when he was taken, but so had she. They were only ever going to get through the emotional scars if they were together. "I'm here, Scully, I promise. I'm yours forever."

#x files #x files fanfic #msr #mulder #scully #fanfic #pregnancy #three words #angst

[mochamamii]

yandere!taeyong: monster.

part one  This is part two, click the link to catch up!

(a/n: I’m apologizing in advance for how terrible this is. I struggled writing the ending for this and I actually hate the way I ended it but I really wanted to get this out so I ended up rushing it, sorry... :/ Also, in the first part I mentioned that the reader was seven months pregnant already but for the sake of realism let’s all just pretend she’s just now reaching seven months, this is set months later from the first part.)

**disclaimer** This post features heavy elements of stockholm syndrome, self-loathing, emotional trauma, major character death, like the tiniest hint at a possible suicide at the end if you squint.

description: It’s been two months since your abductor Taeyong was arrested and apprehended, resulting in his death after he was gunned down by the police. (This is already super long and I didn’t feel like writing Taeyong’s death scene so I’m telling you now lol.) You return home to your family to soon realize that your life as you once knew it was over.

**

"We tried to leave everything exactly how you left it but the detectives were constantly in and out of here touching things. We hope it's okay."

It felt strange standing in your old bedroom, seeing the remnants of your former life. It didn't feel like your room anymore. It felt like you were standing in a stranger's bedroom, invading their space.

You turned your head towards the doorway where both of your parents stood nervously. They looked at you with anxious hopeful eyes as they awaited your reaction.

"It's fine." You answered.

You could see your father visibly breathe a sigh of relief.

"Well, we’ll let you get settled and then if you want, we'd like to have dinner together as a family?" Your mother hesitantly suggested,

"Only if you want to. If you'd rather be alone, we understand-

"I'd rather be alone for now." You responded as you took a seat on the edge of your bed.

Your mother frowned slightly but quickly recovered, “It’s okay. We won’t push you.”

The two of them quietly exited your room, leaving you to your lonesome. As soon as the door closed you were up on your feet and over to the door to lock it. You pressed your ear up against the door to listen as their footsteps descended down the hallway. When you were sure they were gone and the door was secure, you moved over to the window in the room, double checking the locks.

That’s how you spent the first few weeks back at home, constantly checking the locks and making sure the entire house was secure. It nearly drove you mad as you compulsively checked the locks on all the doors and windows, you could never convince yourself that the house was ever safe so you resorted to barricading yourself in your bedroom most of the time.

You had become a hermit, only coming out of your room when absolutely necessary. It angered you that this is what your life had slowly become. When you were still with Taeyong, you had all these grandiose ideas of all the things you would do once you reclaimed your freedom. When in reality, you ended up doing the exact opposite.

You had managed to avoid your friends and your fiancé for the first few weeks being home but inevitably over time news of your return had spread to everyone. You expected to have people lined up around the block waiting to see you. You were just a shell of your former self, but before life with Taeyong, you were someone that people naturally gravitated towards, you always had many friends.

Surely someone would come and see you, right?  

But truthfully, no one knew what to say to you and it was easier to just ignore your existence than it was to try and engage in conversation. You had been ostracized by your peers. You didn't know whether to be offended or thankful that people seemed to be avoiding you.

Of course, you still had a few close friends that would try and stop by and speak to you only for you to send them away before they could get a glimpse of you. After a while what little people were still trying to see you had gotten the message and left you alone altogether.

Your fiancé wasn't exempt from this treatment. He had tried numerous times to get you to come out of your room and at least let him look at you. At times it was tempting. You hadn't seen him the better half of a year and you wanted to see him badly, but you couldn't have him see you this way.

Not when you yourself were just starting to get acquainted with your new life that didn’t involve anyone or anything that knew the old you. You especially didn’t want your fiancé to see you because you were seven months pregnant now, carrying the child of your abductor.

It was easier to blame not seeing your fiancé on your pregnancy. It was easier for your mind to rationalize avoiding him that way. But you couldn’t lie to yourself, and you knew that it was really because you were certain that your relationship could never be the same once he saw you.

Seeing him, your fiancé, face to face would be confirmation that things were over between the two of you. Your fiancé was always horrible about masking his emotions and you didn't think your heart could take the way he would look at you when he saw that you were carrying another man's child.

You couldn't remember when but at some point, your fiancé had eventually stopped trying to get you to come out of your room as well. Occasionally he'd pop up again and make another attempt but deep down you knew that it was no longer about actually trying to get you to come out of your room and more about him feeling obligated to keep trying.

Spending so much time in your bedroom alone with only your thoughts for company gave you time to reflect on everything that had happened to you in the past year. Specifically, in the last few months since Taeyong had passed.

Images of Taeyong's lifeless corpse plagued your mind. The sound of him colliding with the pavement was permanently sketched into your memory.

You tried everything you could to shake the memories of him from your head but it seemed like everything reminded you of him. Sometimes you'd have hallucinations of him sitting right there beside you that were so vivid you had begun to question your own sanity.

No matter what you did you couldn’t get away from thoughts of Taeyong, you felt so out of sorts. You felt like you were slowly losing your mind. You were finally free of him in an earthly sense, but why couldn’t you get him out of your head?

You grew extremely frustrated with yourself as Taeyong continued to monopolize your conscious, you were so frustrated with things that you often cried yourself to sleep. Sometimes randomly through the day you’d just start crying out of sheer annoyance with yourself.

You desperately wanted this feeling, whatever it was, to leave you. But it seemed like the more you tried to ignore it the more intense it got.

Your doctor chalked it up to hormones but you could feel in your bones that this was different.

You were grieving.

It nearly made you vomit when you had finally put the pieces together as to why you had been feeling so strange.

You were grieving because of Taeyong.

Without disregarding all of the trauma and torture he had put you through you couldn't fight the desolate feeling that consumed you whenever images of him popped up in your mind. Most of all you felt shameful. Shameful for mourning the man that had single-handedly destroyed your life.

You would never be the same person because of him, and here you were shedding tears over him.

There were small pockets of time in which you were able to be completely honest with yourself. In those moments you realized something catastrophic, something that you made you question the entirety of your being. You weren't just mourning him...

You missed him.

The realization only made you ache further. You missed him so much. You missed his voice, you missed his smile, his scent. It only added to your stress that you had to silently deal with these troubling emotions by yourself. You had cut off everyone, there was no one left to confide in.

What would your parents say if you told them that you missed Taeyong?

Your head hurt at the thought of what they might do or say.

They were already treating you like a fragile piece of china. If you told them your true feelings you feared they might think you're unstable and that you needed to be admitted in a hospital somewhere.

In the midst of trying and failing horribly to deal with all of your emotions and stress you couldn’t help but wonder what life might’ve looked like if you had listened to Taeyong all along?

What would it have been like if you actually had tried to build a life with him after getting pregnant?

Would it be any worse than the way you’re living now, the life of a scarred hermit?

Could it be that Taeyong was right along?

Maybe I was destined to be with him..

**

(a/n: I’m so sorry that this is so bad, I really tried y’all lmao. Thanks for all the love on the first part.)

#nct smut #nct yandere #yandere nct #yandere taeyong #nct taeyong #taeyong smut #lee taeyong #kpop yandere

[dawsons-justice]

He Promised, You Trusted.

Part Two to “I Promise, You Trust”

A/N: Reader is between 14-17, so this is a Father Figure!Antonio x Reader. No romance, 100% platonic. 

TW: Nothing horribly graphic, some mild angst, but mostly just to lead up to the fluff

Masterlist

It sure was cold outside. Chicago had been cold, but Minnesota somehow was colder. Your aunt had apologized she couldn't pick you up from school but it wasn't really her fault. She had to pick up some extra shifts to keep up with the bills. You're just glad she let you stay with her. 8 months ago, you really had no idea where you would end up.

8 months ago...

Detective Dawson ran off to make some calls, leaving you to your own thoughts. You noticed the worried glances of his coworkers watching you from the unit floor. You didn’t know any of them, they were all sorta intimidating in their own way, well, except for the woman with brown hair, she looked nice. It just felt better to block them out and focus on the mug in your hands. The hot chocolate had gotten cold in the time it took you to process everything and really you haven’t truly processed anything.

Dawson came back in the room, his face muddled with several emotions. There was some stress, determination and anger but you made out the sympathy on his features most of all. Most people don't want sympathy, but you were just glad someone was caring enough to do so. Trailing behind him was another cop, older, you'd seen him before, just didn't know his name.

"You got anyone we can call?" Antonio asks. you had to wrack your brain a bit. It hadn’t occurred to you that this would be important. "I have an aunt. I haven't talked to her in years. My dad and her don't get along."

The two men exchanged a glance. And you understood now. If you didn't find a home yourself, they'd have to put you in a group home. That was not good. You had heard stories, everyone has. Group homes only provide shelter to trouble. If you ended up there who knows what would happen to you after. You hadn’t thought this through, this was a bad idea. In some sort of a desperate plea, you grab the detective’s hand as he’s about the leave with the other guy.

"Wait no no... I can't live in a home. I can't. I'd rather go home to my dad. Please no." Panic evident in your voice. His face softens, kneeling down to your height. He was just going to try to comfort you. You forced yourself to remember whatever he says can’t change the truth. He isn’t the one making the rules. You’re not naive.

"Hey, hey kiddo. Not there yet, let's give your aunt a ring and see if we can get ahold of her. You got a name?" His voice calm, if he was worried you really couldn’t tell now, unlike when he first returned. You gave her name, not knowing anything besides she lived in St. Paul. But they were cops, you figured they could track her down.

The other guy, Voight, left, you heard him call out to someone named Halstead to run your aunt's name. Antonio didn’t move, just kept holding your hand looking around as if he wasn’t. The fact we seemed unbothered by the comforting gesture put you more at ease, yet you still were struggling with this.

"B-but what if she doesn't want me?"

There was a look of disbelief in his face, as if you were made of solid gold. It was fake and you knew it, still, it was comforting. "We're gonna figure it out, ok? I'll tell her myself what a great kid you are."

"I'm sorry."

The detective didn’t have to say anything, but you knew he deflected your apology. Somehow you just knew the minute you said it what his response was going to be. He didn’t feel bothered. And on top of this it was going to work out. He would make sure it worked out.

And it did. Given the explanation of the situation, your Aunt was happy to take you in. Antonio pulled some strings and you spent one night with his colleague Kim Burgess (the woman with the brown hair) before your aunt took over custody. In less than 48 hours you were on your way to Minnesota with a bag you packed and your dad had no clue. For once you knew there was at least one person who was worth trusting in this world.

The snow crunched below your feet. It was only another mile or so to your aunt’s place. The roads were pretty clear. Much of the snow had been packed down for days, but a recent heatwave melted and refroze the roads to solid ice. The deceiving snow was only an inch or two thick on top of the slick icy layer beneath. So, when you hear tires squeal, it is not in any way surprising. You were learning to drive yourself; ice roads were something that even your aunt had trouble managing let alone teach you how to navigate. You had respect for anyone who was able to successfully manage those roads in two-wheel drive. Whipping around, there’s not a two-ton car sliding towards you as you had expected, planning to dive roll into the snow. There’s a black van with a guy in a ski mask running towards you.

Crap.

Taking advantage of the ice, you threw your backpack at him, hoping he’d lose his balance and walk onto the more slippery road. Yet things do not go to plan as he easily recovers and continues to pursue you, reaching you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You fought. You screamed, wailed, bit, flailed, kicked and every other defensive action your subconscious could think of. It didn’t work, he was just too much bigger than you. You were thrown into the back of the van.

no no no no no this can’t be happening.

You considered yourself a calm person, but that was before you were tied and gagged in the back of a van. The darkness seemed to only escalate your fears as you had a blank canvas to imagine your worst nightmares becoming reality. "Please, just let me go” you must have said it 40 times before something heavy hit your head.

Things faded in and out. Darkness and light fought a battle, but you could never really tell if you could see or not, it was all just shadows. The nausea was also coming in waves, paired with the throbbing sensation on the back of your head. You had been pistol whipped. But of course, you didn’t know that. The sheer terror of the entire situation still had you disoriented. You couldn’t feel the time pass, most people know what a minute or five minutes feels like, but you couldn’t focus. It was all too much.

 When the van doors slide open you hear the guy who grabbed you talk to whoever was driving. “I still can’t believe this guy.” His gruff voice scoffed, close by.

“Well, he had the money, who are we to judge.”

“Guy? Had someone hired them to take me? Was I about to be sold or something?”

 You’re embarrassed to say the next voice you heard brought you half a millisecond of comfort, it was misplaced. “You had to put a sack over her head?” It was your dad. How? Better question why would he ask that question though he had no emotion in his voice.

The men and your dad talk as you wrestle with this entire shock. Suddenly someone picks you up and carries you over their shoulder. You figured it was guy who grabbed you, but feeling that whoever was holding you gently lowered you to the floor, you made the new assumption it was your dad. The blindfold and gag came off in a quick motion. You were met with the hollow face of your father in some sort of abandoned room. He gave a sickening smile, one that brought no relief with it. “I brought you back sugar!”

“Dad, let me go.”

He nodded and started to undo your restraints. It couldn’t be this easy. Taking a moment, he was preoccupied with removing the duct tape glue from your arms, as if he cared, you jumped up, running across the room to open the metal door, but it was locked.

“Open the door, dad.”

“Y-you’ll just leave.” He whimpered, face looking offended.

This wasn’t your dad. The eyes were too hopeful and the demeanor was too caring. This was you dad having some sort of a mental breakdown. The pieces came together as you watched the tremors in his hands. Not knowing the man in front of you felt more terrifying than the man you ran away from. Before, you knew somewhere buried deep in his subconscious he would never seriously harm you beyond some bruises. But you stared into eyes you didn’t recognize. It was entirely possible he was going to kill you. All of that mess 8 months ago just to end up dying in Chicago and nobody knows about it.

But that’s where you were wrong.

Within a 25 mile radius…

“Detective Dawson,”

The somewhat uncaring police deputy at St. Paul started running down the situation. There wasn’t much to tell. Your backpack was found in a snowbank near some blood in the snow with you nowhere to be found. Your aunt had been adamant that the deputy at the front desk reach Antonio. And of course, the detective roped his unit into the situation. Voight made it a priority. It didn’t take a psychologist to see that Antonio cared about you, he cared about all his teen CIs. They were his secondary kids. He would find you, even if he hadn’t promised you to do so. He promised himself. When word had come in that your dad had been behind the entire situation it was not much of a shock. A man with a past of petty crime and domestic abuse with mental health concerns did seem like a high probability suspect. He had also rented out a storage container on the industrial side of town. Antonio and his team suited up. He was going to end this situation here and now.

 “CHICAGO PD OPEN THE DOOR”

In a frenzied craze, your father throws you to the floor. It would make sense for him to run, but logic wasn’t a key factor right now. His foot goes to your neck and the gun points to your head. The gun must have been on his back, you hadn’t seen it until now.

I don’t want to die.

Not like this.

Not here.

Please no.

Please.

 Bursting through the door you make out several people with weapons drawn on your dad. Light floods the dark room leaving the two of you partially blind, yet the tension still filled the air.

“LET HER GO.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. Regardless, your neck was still being crushed. Air was slowly waning from your lungs. And then it wasn’t. In an instant you felt his foot roll out from over you, giving you a chance to scramble away.

“Y/N, Y/N, it’s ok. We’re police.”

And that was likely the only time anyone from your side of town was happy to hear that phrase. But still, you couldn’t quite comprehend it. It was a full mess of tears, screaming, wailing and shaking. You had been mere seconds from death by gun or choking, you couldn’t just suck it up. Not even you were that badass. Nonetheless, the cops weren’t getting anywhere with calming you down.

“Call an ambo.” Calls another voice, a woman. “Tonio, you ok?”

“Yeah” And under normal circumstances you would have connected the dots, but as it has already been overly reiterated, you were not stable right now. The only thing you could register was the familiar hand on top of yours gently squeezing your arm below.

“Shhh shhh, it’s ok kiddo, we got you. He’s gone.”

Hold it, you know that voice.

And what would you know, you finally grasped it. Staring down at you is Detective Dawson, once again saving your neck, literally. It was probably against some rule, but you just buried your head in his shoulder trying to block out everything outside. He let it slide, just holding you there, seemingly not in any rush to move you till the paramedics arrived. In time you realized the other officer trying to calm you down had been Burgess, but you just hadn’t recognized her. You’re in pain, but not horrendous amounts, must be the adrenaline. Regardless, Antonio calls another officer, Atwater, to carry you outside to the ambulance. Before you know it, the ambo is driving away from the scene to Chicago Med, leaving the Intelligence Unit to deal with the aftermath including Dawson.

Sitting in the ER, you wait for test results to return on your head scan. More had happened in the last 12 hours than in the last 8 months. You realized how much you liked the simplicity and (relative) safety of Minnesota, but now you’d at least carry pepper spray. You’re pulled from your thoughts as you see Dawson peak from the side of the curtains. You had not felt too lonely or afraid before given the officers stationed outside your room, but seeing him made you feel better.

“Hey kiddo, how’s the neck?” he smiles, moving into the room slowly as if he was trying not to scare you.

You smile weakly, still exhausted. “Alright, considering.” You noticed tape on the base of his neck on one side extending underneath his shirt where you couldn’t see. “What happened?”

“I might be getting a little long in the tooth for tackling suspects.” And by suspects, you knew he meant your dad. He was the one who got him off you. “Are you ok?” You ask. “All good, just had to get my shoulder checked out.”

“Ok, glad you’re ok.” And you truly were. You would feel awful if you had been the reason he had been seriously injured, especially after you were supposed to be out of his hair.

He nods, fiddling with his hands on the rail at the end of your bed. “Hey, your aunt is on her way to get you, it’s gonna be awhile, but I talked to your doctor and they said they’ll keep you till she arrives to monitor your concussion.”

You nod. “My dad?”

“We got him, he’s going away for a long time.” You notice his lack of enthusiasm in that response, obviously thinking that justice had not been fully served.

“But not forever.” Your voice soft, barely over a whisper.

He shook his head. “Long enough you’re not going to need to worry about him.”

“But you’ll come rescue me again if he tries, right?” You cocked an eyebrow, knowing it wasn’t a promise he could make, but every reassuring thing he told you made you feel better anyways.

“As much as I love the job, I don’t know if I’m going to be on the force in 40 years.”

“Yeah, you might not be able to a shoot a gun while using a walker with tennis balls on the bottom.” The two of you laugh a bit at that visualization.

As you quiet down you notice he looks a bit more serious.“But yeah, I’ll get you.”

Once again, probably against some protocol, but you just had to reach out and hug him burying your face in his leather jacket. He leans forward to pull you in. Something about it was just natural, you knew he’d protect you, you knew that now.

“Thank you so much. I’d be dead.”

“Of course,” He pets your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“T-thank you for caring.” He pulls back to look you in the eyes.

“I checked your record, no priors since you left. Thank you for being worth it.” He smiles.

The two of you sit there for a minute, staring at each other, his hand still the (good) side of your head. You’d never really had a dad moment like this, but if this was the first and last dad moment you ever had, you were ok with it. It was perfect. He stands up, stretching out his back as if he’s about to leave. But instead, he pulls up a chair.

“You don’t mind if I stick around till your aunt arrives do you?”

You gently shook your head. Truth was, you were too afraid to ask him to do so, but of course, somehow, he knew what you needed. So there the two of you sat. Talking about the extremely normal things you had been involved in back in Minnesota. You swear he kept a small smile on his face the entire time. Just happy to see you moving on. It was done.

 When you turned 18, you reached out the Antonio again and asked if he would be willing to meet up for lunch, now that it was “legal” to do so. And now it has become an annual event with occasional bonus trips when you somehow wind up in the Windy City. Your lives may have grown apart in distance but something would always keep the two of you together. He’d always be there for you, and you needed that. Maybe not everyone needs a perfect father figure to survive in the world, but knowing a tough boxing detective would be by your side in one phone call gave you the freedom of safety. Your aunt is an amazing woman, but Antonio Dawson is really the one who you owe everything to.

He promised, you trusted, and it was the first decision of your life that truly mattered.

A/N: I know my presence on this account is sporadic, but I hope some people enjoy this. I’m going to dive into my drafts to work on some of the partially written responses I have for some old requests. (: 

#antonio dawson #antonio dawson x reader #Chicago PD #one chicago #antonio dawson imagines #antonio dawson imagine #antonio dawson baby #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic

[lin-nin]

A Mother’s Love & Grief

Ship: SurrogateMother!Reader x SurrogateSon!Wilbur, Philza x Reader

Plot: Wars were never fun, and you hated them. Especially when they involved the sons of your friend.

Disclaimer: Dream SMP Spoilers up to the Manberg vs Pogtopia War, some depictions of violence! Currently a one-shot, but if interest is high I could see myself doing more.

---

You had always been there, lingering the edges and watching. Carefully watching as Wilbur and Tommy got up to their shenanigans. It was the least you could do for Philza. Watching his boys was easy, originally. It had started out simple, even as they raised the walls of L'Manberg. You were proud of them then, even as they fought for their independence. You had felt a fierce pride on how they had grown, regardless of their reasons.

The pain you had felt the day of the first revolution matched your pride. It had hurt seeing them get hurt the way they had, but you were powerless to stop them. There was a leverage over you because of them that you couldn't risk actively picking sides. So you watched, though you made sure to tell them you were proud of them once it all ended. You even promised Wilbur to tell Philza what a good job the two of them had to done. He had always wanted the approval of his father, and creating a country for freedom surely was a reason to be proud.

As L'Manberg grew, you settled within the walls, celebrating happily with the boys as they did. It was with pride you had watched the election, rooting for them to win. It was what they clearly wanted. The pride could only turn to horror as they were exiled, though. You had frantically shoved Tommy away, acutely aware of how dire it was that he get out safe. You had sacrificed yourself that night, an arrow through the neck draining you. A shot meant for Tommy. You couldn't do the same for Wilbur, helplessly watching as he was shot down by Punz. You couldn’t even cry out for him when you had seen the shot coming.

Everything had changed that day. You had carefully snuck off to their exile, forcing Technoblade to promise to watch them and take care of them. They were Philza’s boys, and he at least owed his friend that. You kept to Manberg then, sneaking out periodically to offer up information when you could. It wasn't until just before the festival when Tommy had come to you, desperate for help.

"It's Wilbur! He's gone- He's gone mad! He wants to blow up L'Manberg, he thinks it'll fix it. You have to tell him, tell him it's wrong. He won't listen to me. Please," The youngest had begged you, and you had relented without a second thought. Wilbur looked mad when you had walked into Pogtopia, his hair a mess. You hadn't seen him since the banishment.

"Wilbur…" You murmured cautiously, causing him to spin towards you.

"Did Tommy tell you? What do you think?" He asked, a grin on his face. An unstable grin. You needed to proceed cautiously, and you knew that.

"I think… it's impressive, but surely there's another way, isn't there?" 

"If there's no L'Manberg to rule, wouldn't that be better? No more Schlatt, no more presidency, no more Dream breathing down our necks. Its perfect!" He seemed eager, and it made your heart pang.

"If there's no L'Manberg, you, me, Tommy and Tubbo all lost lives for nothing. Tommy would have given up his discs for nothing. Were all of the sacrifices pointless?" You kept your voice level, trying not to be cynical towards him. One thing could set him off.

"You died for Tommy! I'm proud of him for his growth but L'Manberg has only caused problems. Wouldn’t Phil be proud?" The words had stunned you then.

"Would Phil be proud? You're planning to blow up an entire country because you rightfully lost, Wilbur! Why would he be proud?" You had gestured around the pair of you, words clearly upsetting the brunette.

"Because I'm doing what's right! Who gives a damn if it makes me the bad guy?" Wilbur flung his hands up, scowling at you.

"You can solve this without blowing up a country, without being a terrorist! You aren't doing the right thing!" You had been fed up and frustrated, deeming to Tommy that there was clearly no reasoning with Wilbur. He was beyond that point. You could see it in his eyes.

The festival had caused more pain. It seemed like that's all it had brought. Tubbo died at the hands of Technoblade that day, the shot only spurring you more. What the hell had this country done? When the war came you kept to yourself. The second revolution was rough, but you truly wanted no part of it. It was for a country you were having your doubts for, but at least it was in tact. You may not care much for it, but the others did so you didn't care.

It was only when the victory cheers rallied that you cared to look, smiling almost fondly at the boys as they gave their speeches. It was messy and unpolished, but their pride and joy was immeasurable. They had succeeded in something they cared about for the second time.

Peace never seemed to stay with L'Manberg though. No sooner than victory was declared, fighting broke out again. You cried out as Techno fired at your boys, doing everything you could to protect it. That's when you heard it, the hissing of bombs. You hardly had time to react, watching as the ground beneath everyone shattered, erupting into a rain of wood and Earth. It was chaos, and you frantically searched for Wilbur. You didn't care that he had done this- please just let him be okay.

He was stood in a cave across one of the craters. With Philza. The man looked torn, and you could only stand and watch. It felt like slow motion as Wilbur shoved the sword into his father's hands. Philza’s wings flexed, frustrated as he yelled. You couldn't make out the words, everything ringing around you from the explosion. The sword was pointed towards Wilbur’s chest, the tip threatening to impale him. And then it did, and you weren’t sure if Wilbur had pushed himself onto it or if Philza had done it himself.

You were vaguely aware of the screaming. Your own screaming, to be exact, as tears streamed down your face. Wilbur was gone. The last life he had, taken in the name of a country that had done him wrong. You don't remember who moved you from the chaos of the battle. It became a blur in your shock and grief.

Days had passed and you sat in a house that had been built for you. You believed Tubbo had built it, simply saying that you deserved it. The grief had shocked you numb, the moments replaying through your head every time your eyes closed. Philza eventually visited, the visitations often quiet. Much of the time was spent with him making sure you were taken care of. As time passed, you opened up more, you recovered. The wound sort of healed. Enough for you to speak to Philza of his sons and what they had gotten up to in his absence.

As you recounted stories, you often found yourself pressed to his side, a dark wing draped around you. Sometimes he even managed to get you out of the house, walking around the lake they'd put in the explosion craters. Sometimes you would stare down at the water, watching the fish dance beneath the surface. Like they'd always belonged there.

It was all fine, until the day you met Ghostbur. The ghost had floated in behind Philza one day, chatting happily in a voice that only seemed reminiscent of Wilbur. He had introduced himself, recounting a few memories. That Wilbur had always cared deeply for you, and that he knew you had always done the same and looked out for him. He only seemed to remember the fond memories, and part of it hurt. He was Wilbur. Yet he wasn't. An echo of the boy you watched grow.

It had been silent as you sat there, even after Ghostbur left. Philza didn't follow, simply settling beside you. A wing wrapped around you, safely tucking you into his side. The sun was setting when he finally broke the silence. "I know," he mumbled quietly. As if anything louder would have been too much. "I miss him too."

"Everyday?" You whispered, voice thick with sadness. You looked up to him, desperate for reassurance. That this was normal, that you weren't alone.

"Everyday. It's hard. I always wonder if I could have stopped him." He stared wistfully out the window, and you released a shuddering breath.

"I do too. I tried. Not hard enough. Maybe I should have stopped him from even creating L'Manberg. All that it has brought is pain. So many people died for it. Our boys-" You choked as you spoke, the words spilling out with no restraint. "We lost him. I lost him. I loved him, Phil. He was like my own son, and watching him die-"

It was the first time you broke. The first time you spilled and acknowledged everything like this. Phil had shifted, moving to tug you into his lap. To hold you tight, both wings cocooning you there. You clung to him without a second thought, face burying into his neck as you sobbed.

"Everytime I close my eyes I see it- his body just- it hurts, and I couldn't stop it. I couldn’t save him, I couldn't save my boy," Your voice raised with your hysteria, and Phil rubbed your back.

"It isn't your fault. I don't know if either of us could have saved him. It's okay to grieve him, but don't let it eat you alive." His cheek rested against your head, and you hiccuped softly. He held onto you tight, the moment feeling horribly somber. You had finally broken after months of barely living.

"Ghostbur isn't the same. He's not our Wilbur," you whispered after your crying had slowed.

"No, he's not. He tries, though. He's got the best intentions with what he can remember. He wanted to see you right away but we wouldn't let him. He said Wilbur always thought of you as a mother." His voice was soft. Tender. You took a shaking breath, sitting up some more so you could look at Phil.

"How much does he remember?" You questioned, leaning into the hand that came to cup your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered shut as he wiped at the tear tracks with his thumb, trying to make sure you were okay.

"The trauma is gone, for the most part. He seems to only remember the good." He explained, and you nodded. You were somewhat glad for that. You weren't sure you could handle it if he remembered every detail of his demise.

"Was I a good mother?" Your voice was meek as you questioned Phil, reaching up to cradle his hand. His gaze softened at the action, moving to hold your hand instead.

"Given the circumstances, I'd say you weren’t bad. You tried your best to protect them. Tommy told me about the exile. That there is enough to rule you a decent mother." He ran one of his knuckles against the scar on your neck.

"I didn't even think about it when I did it," You leaned forward, settling your head on his shoulder.

"You don't need to, as a parent. It's instinct. Just remember the other two are still alive, I think they could use you." You nodded, closing your eyes. "Try and actually talk to Ghostbur soon, too. It'd make him happy." You only nodded again, the emotional exhaustion wearing on you. Phil pressed a ghost of a kiss to your temple, before settling his head atop yours. You weren't sure when you lost consciousness, only aware of the warmth and closure in your heart.

#philza #philza minecraft #philza x reader #philza minecraft x reader

[timelesslords]

time, mystical time (cutting me open then healing me fine)

Read on AO3

The night the second Giant War ends, Percy and Annabeth sneak out together 

For the first time in what felt like years, Annabeth was able to exhale.

They'd done it. Gaea was gone, the Romans were on their side, various monster armies had been defeated. Sitting on the porch of the Big House with the remaining seven after all was said and done had felt like both one of the most anti-climactic, and heaviest moments of her life. Leo was gone, and she hadn't fully processed that yet, she wondered if she would ever fully process that Leo, so full of life and energy, wasn't there anymore. But compared to the Titan War, casualties had been light.

She still felt on edge, like at any moment the dirt in front of her might rise into Gaea's familiar form, shout "surprise!" and murder them all now that they had their guard down. But the hours passed, night fell, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Which, considering how Annabeth's life had gone the past 7 years, was extraordinary in and of itself.

But it still didn't feel right. It didn't feel done . She could breathe out, but breathing in still felt like a struggle, like there was something caught there.

Maybe that was why, once her siblings seemed mostly asleep, Annabeth slipped on her yankees cap and snuck out the door. She reached Cabin 3 easily, and was not at all surprised to find Percy still awake when she tapped on his window. He opened it, letting out a waft of cool sea breeze into the night air. Annabeth pulled off her cap and Percy grinned at her.

"Thank gods, I was wondering if you were ever going to show up." he said.

"Some of us have roommates." Annabeth replied, but she was also smiling. Percy had a conspiratorial grin on his face, the kind that was contagious, and that would make any self-respecting teacher want to cry.

"Give me a sec," He said, disappearing from the window, and returning with a blanket a few moments later. Then he began to climb out.

"You know the door is like six feet away, right?" Annabeth asked, watching with amusement as he maneuvered his way out of the small window hole. Percy managed to slide out of it, his feet landing on solid ground a little harder than he probably intended.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

"You're ridiculous." Annabeth said. She had not meant for it to come out quite so fondly, but she didn't have the heart to try and correct herself.

"You love me anyways." Percy said happily, taking her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. It felt so easy, so natural, Annabeth could almost forget the past 8 months had happened. Like they were still two kids who had only been through one war in their lifetime instead of two Which, okay, maybe a pretty pathetic ideal, but it still made her feel good.

They made their way down to the beach, careful to avoid the cleaning harpy's regular paths, though Annabeth doubted they were even on curfew duty tonight. There was still tons of debris lying around from the earlier battle that hadn't been fully squared away yet, despite everyone working around the clock to get it done. Though, with help from the Romans, Annabeth thought they could probably have camp looking back to normal in the next day or two. They were scarily efficient. Either way, the harpies were probably taking the night off.

The beach, thankfully, had remained relatively untouched from the battle. There were a few dunes she wasn't sure had been there before, and what looked like a bit of wreckage from one of the orangers. But they ignored both, opting for their favorite spot just above the tideline, in the middle of the beach. Percy set down the blanket, and they laid down on it together, still holding hands.

They were quiet, but that didn't bother Annabeth. Quiet moments with Percy were stupidly hard to come by, and just being next to him made her feel whole again. Even after the weeks they'd spent together, Annabeth hadn't fully recovered from the time she had spent with him missing. She wondered if she would ever fully recover from that, or if she was doomed to dream of him disappearing right before her eyes for the rest of her life.

And that had always been the fear, hadn't it? That he would leave like everyone else in her life had, before she had him? It was her fault they had taken so long to get together, the way she kept pulling away, expecting him to get tired and go. But he hadn't. He had stubbornly stuck around, even when she was mad at him and being mean to him and hadn't really been all that pleasant to be around.

And of course, there was the other thing. The prophecy that had ruled their lives since they were twelve, that Annabeth had read at too young an age, and that she had applied to him from the minute that trident flashed over his head. He wasn't even supposed to be here.

"What are you thinking about?"

Annabeth glanced over at Percy, who had apparently been looking at her for the past few minutes.

"You've got that scrunched up look on your face." He said. He at least had the decency to sound apologetic.

"My face doesn't get scrunched." Annabeth protested, though even as she said it she became aware of the tenseness in her forehead and between her eyes. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"It does, when you're thinking hard. Don't worry, it's very cute."

"You're biased." Annabeth said, turning herself so she could look at him straight on.

"Maybe so." Percy said, with a soft smile and a half shrug. It was very easy to forget, sometimes, that they were half gods, but Annabeth saw it in Percy just then. Something beyond human in his touch and his eyes. Something divine. She wasn't sure how she had ever thought it would be possible for him to die. Looking at him now, she would swear up and down he was an immortal.

"I was just thinking about last summer. And the one before that. And all the time we wasted." Annabeth admitted.

"In our defence, we were kind of dumb then." Percy said, hitting her with a trademark grin. Annabeth had to smile back, even as she rolled her eyes.

"Speak for yourself, Seaweed Brain."

"Okay, okay. I was an idiot, and you were as brilliant as ever." Percy amended. Annabeth appreciated his undue faith in her, but it wasn't entirely warranted.

"I wasn't brilliant. I was pragmatic, which is just another kind of stupid if you use it wrong." Annabeth sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"Like," Annabeth started, not sure how to explain what she was thinking in a totally not-morbid way, "I guess I was just thinking about the prophecy the whole time. After the labyrinth especially, I just– I don't know. I was so scared of how it would all play out. I kept pushing you away because I thought it would be easier."

"You thought I was going to die." Percy said. He had a look of careful consideration on his face, free from judgement. He didn't let go of her hand.

"Yes." Annabeth said, feeling guilty as she did, "I mean, I should've known better. Prophecies never play out the way you think they will."

"The summer before. We ended things on weird terms." Percy remembered, "Is that because you thought the time was running out?"

Annabeth shuddered inadvertently. If it was up to her, she would never think about that summer again. It had easily been the worst of her life, maybe even now, and she had some really shitty summers to compare it to.

"It was partially that." Annabeth admitted, "Partially Luke. And... it was also sort of my prophecy. When you disappeared those two weeks and we– I thought you had died, I thought... I thought it was my fault. For bringing you on the quest."

Percy was frowning, like he wasn't quite following what she was saying.

"The last line. The one I didn't tell you about until after." Annabeth prompted.

And lose a love worse than death. Annabeth had been well aware of her crush on Percy at that point, but she hadn't fully, truly realized she was in love with him until she had thought he'd died for her prophecy. It was the absolute worst moment to have that clarity. Thankfully she had gotten a do-over of sorts, but it was hard to forget that kind of pain. That probably was why she had avoided him the rest of the summer, more than anything else, because she after she knew that she loved him the thought of losing him again, which had felt desperately inevitable at the time, was absolutely excruciating.

Percy's eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh. Oh. Oh gods, I was an idiot. I didn't even realize how much of an idiot I was for that." he said, "After you kissed me and everything. I just never put it together."

Annabeth couldn't help but laugh a little at the expression on his face.

"It's okay." she said.

"Did I ever apologize for that? I'm really sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I tortured you enough after the fact."

"You did do that. I deserved it though. Gods." Percy said, rolling onto his back, looking up at the stars.

"Rachel didn't though." Annabeth said. She still felt a little twinge of guilt at how she'd treated Rachel the first few times they'd met. Looking back on it, it really didn't have much to do with Rachel at all; she had mostly been mad at herself, and Percy. Herself for not being brave enough to make a move, Percy for having a crush on a girl who wasn't her, after all they'd been through together. Not exactly fair feelings all around, but at least they'd been equally distributed. And she'd apologized to Rachel afterwards.

"No, probably not." Percy agreed.

"I was just mad, I guess. Luke was gone for good. Thalia had left, and I knew she had to, but it still hurt. And I thought I was going to lose you to her and then you were going to die, again, sort of, and it was all just kind of unbearable."

"I'm sorry. That you had to do that alone." Percy said, squeezing her hand, "I wish I had been better about it. I just didn't really know what to do."

"It's not your fault." Annabeth said. Then, after a moment of contemplation

"Though you could have at least acknowledged the kiss."

Percy groaned, covering his face with his free hand.

"I was so dumb. I still didn't know if you liked me after that. I thought you just wanted to forget about it."

"Well, after you didn't mention it, maybe." Annabeth said, a little teasingly. It was nice to just be able to sit here and talk about things. The past few months had been pretty hellish, but one thing they had done was put things in perspective. It was easy to laugh at their awkward 15-year-old selves' interactions now, while it might've still been uncomfortable a few months ago.

Of course, if Percy hadn't disappeared out of nowhere, they probably would've reached this point in their relationship organically, without all the trauma on the side. But if she thought about that for too long she would just get angry, and she didn't want to ruin the moment. It was a nice moment. The type of moment she wanted to have with him over and over again, until they both died of old age. For the first time that actually felt like an achievable goal.

"Can I get a do-over?" Percy asked, his trouble-maker smile back on his face. Annabeth grinned back.

"You can have as many do-overs as you want."

He leaned over and kissed her, soft and sweet, and frankly much better than the hurried, frantic one in the volcano had been.

"Annabeth Chase," he said as he pulled away, "I am acknowledging that that was an amazing kiss. I hope to have many more amazing kisses with you, for the rest of our lives."

Annabeth laughed and kissed him again, because she had the time, and they finally had the world to themselves again, and now that he had kissed her again, any time not spent kissing him felt like a waste.

"You're very good at that. Have I ever told you you're very good at that?" Percy said, when they finally broke apart again.

"Well, I had lots of practice before you." Annabeth said, unable to stop the sly smile from spreading across her lips.

"Like who?" Percy asked, indignantly. He was joking, but she could tell there was a note of genuine surprise there.

"Oh, lets see." Annabeth said, rolling back onto her back, fingers still laced through Percy's, "There was Zach, from elementary school. He wasn't very good, but practice is practice. And then Jake from that boarding school–"

"You kissed guys at your boarding school?"

"Oh sure. I was sad and you weren't around, I had to make do. I made out with Connor once, that was an experience."

"Our Connor? Connor Stoll?" Percy asked, unable to mask his surprise. Annabeth bit down a giggle.

"Yeah, on a dare. He wasn't so bad, really, but he could have used a little less ton–"

"Okay, okay, I get the point," Percy said hurriedly, and Annabeth finally let herself laugh.  

"Don't worry, you're better than all of them put together." Annabeth said, reaching around her own head and patting his with her spare hand.

"Are you sure you're not just saying that?" Percy asked.

"Mm. Might have to double check." Annabeth said, keeping her voice as serious as she could possibly make it.

"Oh yeah?" Percy said, and it was a dare to him now, which meant that teasing him so much had either been a bad idea, or a really really good one.

"Yeah." Annabeth said, and in a strange way she felt freer than she had before. Like a huge weight had been lifted off her chest.

Annabeth breathed in the salty sea air, revelling in the inhale. She might've started to cry if he hadn't kissed her then, but it was just as well. They had plenty of time.

#percabeth fic #percabeth oneshot #percabeth fluff #percabeth #this is probably my personal favorite one shot I've done tbh #very inspired by me re-reading BoTL and realizing how traumatizing that was for Annabeth and how they never really get to talk about it #PJO fic #missing scene #Percy Jackson #annabeth chase #hoo #hoo fic #percy x annabeth #annabeth x percy #they're just very in love what can i say #my fic

[one-boring-person]

Requested by: @80s4life

I hope you like this!😊💛

What I Did To You.

Snake Plissken (Escape From New York/LA) x reader

Warnings: violence, injury, swearing, gun use

Masterlist

I have my gun levelled at his head before I've even closed the door properly, my face drawn into a fierce scowl, eyes blazing with anger. Every muscle in my body goes tense, my hand unwavering as I hold the weapon up, my leg throbbing in memory pain. Across from me, the intruder remains stood silently, his eye fixed on mine, his own hand still resting at his hip, ready to draw his pistol at any point.

"Hello to you, too." He greets me in the quiet way he always used to, his lips barely moving.

Frown deepening, I push the door behind me closed without looking at it, keeping my gun aimed at his head as I look him over. Not for the first time, he's covered in a light layer of grime, his brown leather jacket darkened in places by the dirt and lightened in others by the fraying, his boots caked in dust from the wasteland outside. His golden mane of hair is slightly dulled from exposure to the unforgiving sun outside and falls into his eyepatch, flicked out of the way every so often by a jerk of the head. A shadow of a stubble covers his chin, as it always has, disguising a few new scars I've not seen before...as well as one I know very well. Other than that, Snake Plissken has not changed at all.

My eyes narrow, grip on the gun tightening.

"Leave." Is all I say, shifting my weight onto my other foot.

"You used to have such nice manners." Snake's lip curls, the soldier taking a step towards me.

Instantly, I flick my thumb over the flintlock.

"Leave." I repeat, pulling the hammer down as the gun makes a dull clicking sound.

"No." He moves closer, standing so the gun is inches from his chest.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here." I growl, oh so tempted to pull the trigger, "I don't know why you don't keep your distance."

A cruel smirk creeps onto his lips, eye narrowing as his head tilts to the side.

"Trust me, I didn't want to come here, either." He reassures me, "But I have no choice."

"I'm giving you a choice. Leave, or I'll introduce some lead into your diet." I retort, ignoring the burn in my arm from holding it outstretched. At this point, it's the only thing keeping us separated.

"I'll pass on both." Snake snorts, shooting a dismissive glance at the handgun pointed at his throat - now that he's standing closer, my aim only really comes up to his chest and neck, "Put the gun away."

I nearly laugh at him then, another surge of anger going through me.

"You're in no position to order me around. Not anymore." I practically snarl at him, keeping the gun where it is.

"Suit yourself. I came to ask for your help, the least you could do is be civil." He replies coldly, glaring at me now.

Again, the urge to laugh in his face goes through me.

"You came here to ask for my help?" I repeat, cocking my head in disbelief at the sheer balls of the man, "You really need to leave before I pull this trigger."

"(Y/n), we both know if you wanted me dead, I'd be bleeding out on the floor already." He points out, unimpressed.

"Maybe I'm waiting for an apology first."

This seems to catch him off guard.

"An apology?" He repeats, frowning in confusion, "For what?"

It takes all I have not to lunge at him and throttle the handsome bastard's neck in my hands, my leg flaring up in pain at the reminder.

"You know damn well what for." I growl at him, shifting off of my leg again, rubbing at it unconsciously.

Snake's eyes follow my movement, realisation dawning on him.

"I already apologised for that." He says quietly, clearly remembering back to the time I'm referring to.

It still plagues me, that one last operation we'd had to do together. Three years ago, back when we were still working together on jobs, good at what we did, the perfect partnership...except for Snake's tendency to protect his ego. It had been horrible that night, rain pelting the ground as we moved on the abandoned construction site, mud slicking our boots and trousers, foggy air making it impossible to see anywhere. I had told Snake we shouldn't go that day,  that it would be better to wait until another, clearer night, but he insisted on the raid. He'd told me that he'd "been in worse" and that this was nothing, so we took our guns, knives and other equipment, and headed out into the wastelands to deal with the threat.

At first, everything had been fine: we'd managed to get in with no problem, creeping around the perimeter, taking out guards as we went, bodies sodden and filthy now, freezing under our light jackets. It was only as we moved to go further into the site that disaster had struck. Suddenly, gunfire was tearing into the ground inches away from us, driving us back behind an old container box, flashes of light appearing in the milky fog around us, our vision obscured by the sheeting rain, the mud making it hard to retreat. We later found out we'd been ratted out to the terrorists occupying the site, and they'd set up a trap for us, hounding us from the place with rifles spewing bullets at us the entire way. We had been close to escaping.

Then I slipped on a landmine.

All of a sudden, I was flying forwards through the air, agony erupting in my left leg as the flash of light and flames exploded behind me, my body crashing to the floor seconds later. Winded and incapable of moving thanks to the pain lancing through me from my leg, I had screamed out to Snake, hoping for him to return to me, the smell of burning flesh soon flooding my nostrils as my foot caught in the blaze. Howling in agony, I had tried to pull myself out, my fingers scrabbling at the slick mud in desperation, only for the pain to become too overbearing. I had looked for Snake, only to see the back of his head disappearing towards our getaway vehicle, paying no mind to me. It was then that I blacked out, my heart drowning in betrayal and hurt.

For a week or so, I'd been held captive by the terrorists, tortured sometimes, my wounds left to fester, bones shattered and out of place, burns turning ugly over the time. Eventually, another team had been sent in to rescue me, the group getting me out before it got too far. Taken to a hospital, it took me weeks to recover, every muscle and bone in my left leg needing to be reformed almost completely, surgeries being done near-daily to realign them all, the skin basically unsalvageable. I'd had four different skin grafts from various parts of my body, only to leave the limb looking twisted and mangled, basically useless to me until I was encouraged to learn how to use it again. That entailed another half a year of time spent working on getting it to full use again, and even now I can't go nearly as far as I used to. Every so often, the leg throbs, memory pain still hounding me since the day I got the wounds themselves, but I suppose I got off lucky: the surgeons hadn't expected me to make it through.

All of that because of Snake's ego.

His apology? A note sent to me whilst I was unconscious in the hospital.

"You and I have a very idea of what an apology is. Especially for something that kept me bedridden for months." I bite out, heart aching now at the memory, "Especially for someone who left me to die."

Snake purses his lips, swallowing tightly.

"I thought you did die." He says, much quieter now, eye roaming my body guiltily.

"You heard my screams. There's no way you didn't." I reply harshly, reminded again of the raw-throated shrieks for help.

He winces, looking down at his feet now, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I didn't think you'd make it. If I went back, I wouldn't have gotten out." He murmurs, sounding somewhat saddened by what he's saying.

"You wanna know how long it took those fuckers to get to me? Fifteen minutes. Fifteen! There was more than enough time!" I spit at him, face twisted in anger.

Once again, he winces at my words, only now realising the extent of what he did.

"And even when you knew I was alive, when I was in hospital, you couldn't even be asked to come and apologise in person. You sent a damn note." I shake my head, looking at him in disgust, "You're a coward. A spineless coward. Why didn't you at least show your face? Why? Why did you leave me to face the pain on my own?"

"Because I couldn't face it! I couldn't face seeing you there, lying in a hospital bed, all doped up, cut-up and bruised because of me! I couldn't face seeing you nearly crippled because of my stupid fucking pride!" Snake finally snaps, voice strained as his eye returns to my face, pain clouding the blue depth, "I thought I got you killed, (Y/n)! I could barely live with myself because of it!"

"Then why wait until now to find me? Why not come sooner?" I question, voice tense.

"I didn't think I'd be able to face you so angry and upset. I cared - care - so much about you, (Y/n), you have no idea how hard this is for me. I've lived with this guilt for so long." He fumbles for words, unable to voice his feelings as he always has been.

"How hard this is for you? Do you have any- argh!" I cut off in pain. As I was speaking, I'd stepped forwards, my leg sending a shock of agony through me as I'd done so, making me stumble forwards.

Snake moves closer, catching me before I can connect with the floor, his arms secure around me as my hands come to rest on his muscular chest. Blushing at the proximity, I try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach, pushing off of him to sit on a nearby chair, dropping the gun to the floor. Stretching out the affected leg, I sigh in frustration, the anger residing into the same loneliness I've always felt since I got the wounds that have left me like this.

Snake watches me silently, expression pained as he finally speaks.

"Can I...can I see? Please, I want to know what I did to you."

Surprised, I give him a sceptical look, before I hesitantly start to pull my trousers down over my legs. His eye widens at the sight of the limb, lips parting slightly.

Gnarled scar tissue crawls up my leg, discoloured and tight, appearing somewhat ghostly in the light of the room. Snake stares at it in horror, grief swiftly clouding his eye now as he falls to his knees in front of me, hands lifting to hover over it. He flicks his eye up to me, asking for permission, to which I nod, gasping as he removes his gloves and gently places his hands on the sensitive skin, a shiver going up my spine. Ever so carefully, Snake runs his palms over the scars, feeling them over with hesitant fingers, his expression becoming more and more open.

After a while, he looks up, pained eye meeting mine.

"God, (Y/n), I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry..." He grasps my hips, pushing his head into my abdomen as he wraps me into an awkward embrace, murmuring apologies over and over. Shocked, I hesitantly place my hands on his head, threading my fingers through his soft hair. An old tenderness springs into life within me, reminding me of why I used to stay with him, and what his riendship used to mean to me. Over the years, I had tried to forget it, but it's impossible - as he holds me close now, I realise I've missed him more than I'd ever let myself admit.

Snake pulls away after a few more minutes, caressing my hip as he looks up at me, thoughtful now.

"What job was it you needed help with?" I ask him quietly, twisting a strand of his hair between my fingers, "I'll work with you, if you drop the ego act."

He looks surprised and glad, a smallsile pulling at his lips.

"Of course." He promises, looking away again bashfully, "I only kept it up to impress you."

I blink in surprise.

"To impress me?" I repeat dumbly.

"Yeah, I, err, I've always felt the need to. Wanted to impress you so you'd consider going out with me." He admits, blushing furiously.

I blink again, head tilting in curiosity.

"Wait, what?"

"I always wanted to go out with you. Always." He chuckles, swallowing, "I've always loved you."

"You...you love me?!"

"Yeah, I do." Snake nods, biting his lip.

"Wow..." My voice trails off in surprise, unable to compute what he's saying, "I wish you'd told me sooner."

He frowns.

"What do you mean?"

I smile sheepishly at him.

"I've always had a thing for you, too. I just never thought you even liked me full stop."

"Really?!" He looks astonished.

"Yeah, really."

He's quiet for a moment, until a cunning smirk crosses his lips.

"In that case..." Snake leans up and connects our lips, kissing me softly but passionately.

A quiet moan escapes me, my lips moving instinctively against his, kissing him back in relief. His lips are chapped, but I can't find it in me to care as I pull his head closer to me, smiling as he pulls my body into him, his chest pressed firmly against my abdomen. In his arms, I can feel the pain of the last few years starting to slip away, still hooked deeply into me but starting to lessen, my eyes falling closed with the movement of his lips.

He finally pulls away, a content smile on his face, eye taking my expression in.

"So what's this job?" I breathe out, stroking his hair.

He grins lazily.

"Ever thought about going to LA?"

#escape from la #escape from new york #snake plissken #snake plissken x reader #snake plissken imagine #kurt russell #break writes

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

I was going to actually post this before asks closed (didn’t get the chance), but Teddy Bear Anon, you are one of my favorite people and a magnificent creature. You get my vibe. 

About Bad canonically being Sapnap’s dad I feel like that has so much extra angst potential when we consider the rest of the found family. Like. Sapnap, Tommy, and Fundy all have dads who started with the best of intentions but for one reason or another ended up slowly becoming a danger to them. I imagine Tommy and Fundy one day showing up with a cake and telling Sapnap “We regretfully welcome you to the shit dad club” and Sapnap is torn between being upset still and laughing over the absurdity of the situation.

Bonus points if Tommy made the cake using a recipe book that Niki gave him, the last gift Niki ever gave to Tommy. Tommy was originally a really bad cook/baker but after the egg really started to take over he went full survivalist. Leaning to cook was necessary but learning to bake was something he did as a way to raise everyone’s spirits. He’s never gotten the flavor quite to match with Niki’s perfectly but everyone agrees he’s gotten pretty decent in terms of skills. He and Fundy in particular will sometimes just spend an entire day in silence baking and then quietly eat their creations while reflecting on the friends they’ve made and lost over the course of L'manberg’s lifetime. When the group got back to the past and Niki made cookies for Tommy and Fundy the pair very nearly started crying.

Tommy is in an interesting position as a character since he did commit a lot of minor crimes and acted as a general nuisance but he was also still a child. (A very traumatized one considering I canonize SMP Earth with its unlimited lives but even more wars. Including against God. Tommy fought God just let me have this.) He acknowledges the moments when he went over the line and has tried to apologize. In particular at some point before the egg fully takes over he pulls aside Jack and tells him that he’s sorry for the way he acted when he was still in exile, taking one of Jack’s lives and all. Jack and Niki in particular are an interesting subject to address and a painful one for immune!Tommy to think about when he sees younger Niki because the three never fully tossed out the hatchet but it was obvious in the eyes of someone like Sam that both of them were growing more and more hesitant to hurt Tommy. It was made worse by the fact neither were even marginally immune, and it didn’t take long for the egg to get to them.

He never stopped being chaotic. Tommy at his core is just that kind of person. He did, however, grow up enough to act in a more mature manner. Started to recognize what’s too much. In particular he became a lot less violent and willing to lash out after Sam Nook in essence reparented him. He’s still an absolute wild card of a person, which in the eyes of Sam and Sapnap is a good thing. For this au I think we should actually address Tommy having severe ptsd and during the building of his hotel/the early days of the egg before it becomes a noticeable threat it shows. He’s a lot more subdued. Shows of aggression all carry a kind of desperation and his typical jokes feel flat. Lashing out at people slowly becomes more of a defense mechanism to see if someone’s going to leave or betray him, to test the limits of how nice they’re willing to be. After all, nice people have only ever been nice to Tommy when they wanted something from him. His eyes, especially after L'manberg is blow sky high, are well and truly gray. The first time Tommy genuinely laughs after filling Sapnap’s room with chickens is considered celebration worthy to them. His pranks take on a more hermitcraft-esque feel to them which honestly makes them more funny.

By the time they get to the past Tommy has recovered, but he still carries the kind of maturity that like Teddy Bear mentioned is reminiscent of age swap Tommy. When he gets especially stressed though, Immune!Tommy will slip into moments where he acts as tired and done with the world as age swap Tommy. With that said, most of the time he just acts like a more mature Tommy. Nothing could ever completely erase his unique vibe which Ranboo has gone on record as describing “Willing to fight God deaf, blind, and backwards just to prove a point." 

Immune Fundy and Tommy get on really well once Fundy manages to catch up with the rest of the group. It gets to the point where everyone from the past is kinda shocked since smp Fundy and Tommy do not get along. At all. Literally the first night Fundy’s back someone goes to wake them up and they find Fundy asleep on top of Tommy which is a wild experience since this Tommy is a goliath who often refuses to take off his full Netherite max enchant armor. He really becomes a "looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll” kinda mans.

Also, yeah, this is Dream’s retirement arc. He is literally just sitting in the corner watching Tommy dote on his younger self and Tubbo before completely pile driving two of the most powerful people on the server straight into the dirt. At some point Tommy sits down with past Punz. He tells this Punz that their Punz died protecting him and Tubbo and that Tommy never got to properly thank their Punz so he’s going to thank this Punz. Tommy then gives Punz an entire stack of Netherite. If we’re gonna go ahead and agree on Phoenix Tommy then Tommy is fire proof, meaning he probably spent a large amount of time in the nether to avoid the egg crew and get rare supplies. Meaning he also probably did a lot of mining just to distract himself and it resulted in him being loaded. Tommy used to have a fear of tnt and explosives but he seems like the type of mad lad to say “exposure therapy” and make a massive cavern in the underbelly of the nether.

I think it would also be really interesting to dedicate like, a couple of chapters to other people’s perspectives. I kind of want to set the time they arrive in the past partway through the Pogtopia arc since I like mildly unhinged but not completely gone Wilbur. Plus then it also makes more sense for Techno to be there. Just prefer the aesthetic really. I want to have Wilbur see this version of Tommy and come to a sudden “oh” moment. I want to have a moment where Tubbo looks between his Tommy and this new Tommy, seeing himself nowhere to be found, and has enough what the fuck moments to become aggressively protective of his own Tommy. Especially if immune!Tommy ever admits to the past Tubbo why he is the way he is, what he faced under the thumb of the people he trusted. Which, out of everyone on the server, Tubbo would be the first one from the past to actively learn. 

I am fully on board with Tommy knowing how to sew. That should just automatically be canon in literally ever AU. Tommy for all intents and purposes is still Phil’s child for me. Survival runs in the family the same way that chaos does, so he’s got a ton of basic survival skills that he just doesn’t show off because it’s still Tommy. He would have been completely fine in exile if it wasn’t for Dream. Whenever someone ruins their clothes in the Immune group they automatically go to Tommy and at first the past versions are very confused (except for past Tommy and Tubbo obviously) and then Tommy’s just “Sapnap this is beyond ruined it can’t be saved, let me make you something new” and within a couple days he makes Sapnap a completely new outfit. Like maybe Sapnap fell into a lava pool because Blaze Sapnap Supremacy and his clothes are beyond saving and everyone is beyond baffled when Tommy just acts like this is a weekly occurrence. He’s memorized Sapnap’s measurements and style tastes and already had a new outfit in the works for him that Sapnap immediately adores upon it being presented to him. It takes about a week for past Eret to learn that Tommy stress sews new clothing and he cannot think of a better model. Eret has never had such a full closet. Eret has everything from three piece suits to ball gowns now. Eret lives in terror of the days where Tommy disappears god knows where with Fundy and the two reappear with a new wardrobe for the entire god damn server. 

Speaking of disappearing I really like the idea of part phoenix and part tanuki Tommy for a couple reasons. Being a Tanuki he’d have access to enough magic to hide his hybrid traits, which if they’ve been present for long enough would be a necessity to him. Additionally think about Fundy and Tommy building a den under Church Prime that slowly turns into a maze. Think about it. It starts off simple and then they both start digging more and it gets deeper and deeper and more complicate and the two just refer to it as their den and the only ones who are fully aware of the connotations of that word are Sam, Sapnap, and Ranboo who remember the absolute hell that was trying to navigate the original. Just Fundy and Tommy bonding over the fact they are literally the only creatures on this server that have this catacomb memorized and at the end of the catacomb is their saferoom which connects to rail way that the two spent a month straight on. It goes at least 25k blocks from spawn and it’s a final emergency resort in case they can’t stop the egg and the Immunes needs to regroup and essentially try again (if they keep bringing their younger selves with them then hopefully they’ll finally get an army large enough to stop this, but everyone really hopes it doesn’t come to that.)

I’m working on the first chapter of my fic right now actually if I’m gonna be honest and phoenix Tommy is absolutely without question canon to it but I’ve still been going back and forth on if I want him to be part tanuki as well or just blessed/favored by one like Teddy Bear mentioned. I’m also tucking away the whole thing about the magma blood for later use. Phoenix Tommy just makes sense. They used to call him Zombie Kid for a reason back on SMP Earth, he just literally does not die ever unless he decides he does.

~Snapdragon & Firefly

#dream smp #dream smp au #immune au #tommyinnit #fundy #sapnap #eret #the eret #awesamdude #dream #dreamwastaken #wilbur soot #submission #snapdragon & firefly #long post

[nose-bandaid]

the little flower on your wrist

Wonwoo x (gender neutral) Reader | soulmate AU angst + fluffy ending i promise:) | 4.2k words

sequel to: the moon told me so ☾~ (highly suggest reading it first !!)

synopsis: four years have passed since wonwoo left to study abroad. four years without your soulmate. four years, spent doing all you can to stop your heart from racing every time you thought of him, because he wasn’t ready for love. and yet, suddenly, with a little mistake on your part, you find yourself next to him again, picking at the same flowers in this flower field of life.

a/n: hey thanks so much for loving the first part guys, it made me so happy to hear that people actually wanted it to continue too !! i hope this second part matches what you’re looking for and that you enjoy:)

=====

You spilled everything to everyone eventually. As the years passed and people constantly pestered you about your mark, you didn’t see that much harm in telling them. Especially with the fact that Wonwoo was away.

With the fact that you practically had no hope for a relationship at this point.

To put it simply, your friends were all shocked. Shocked that, with everything’s that’s happened, you somehow managed to hide your mark from all of them — save for the few who knew about it. After the initial instinct to chastise you for keeping such a big secret, they resorted to pity and sympathy, though you honestly didn’t need it. You’ve done enough pitying on your own.

In the loneliness of your bedroom, your hand drifted to your ankle where the mark resided, and pulled down your sock to check in on it — a habit you’ve developed recently. You weren’t quite sure when it started, but at some point, the flowers next to your crescent moon began to fade away, as if someone had taken an eraser and decided to wipe off the petals one by one. 

And every time you woke up to see that another petal had disappeared, a part of your love for Wonwoo faded away as well. You took it as a sign that maybe it really was time to try and move on.

Your plan to move on did end up actually working. You busied yourself with work and picking up new hobbies to dwell on so that your thoughts wouldn’t return to him. And in your spare time, the other boys happily took you out on adventures around the city — Chan and Seungkwan especially — and you’ve never been more grateful to have them by your side. You still kept in touch with Wonwoo, sparsely, but once in a while you would contact the other to check in on how they’re doing.

To your surprise (and joy you suppose), it didn’t take too long for you to learn the art of letting go. Perhaps it was because there was only a single flower left on your ankle, or because Jun got you hooked on this amazing game you’re now obsessed with. Or perhaps, your heart had finally lost all hope in being with Wonwoo and was starting to back off. While you were far from being a master of letting go, you were content with where you were, and for the first time in a long while, you felt optimistic about yourself.

=====

“Now, why didn’t you tell me?”

That effort all fell apart when you received the phone call. You really had no clue how you were supposed to prepare yourself for it — if it was even possible for you to prepare for it. 

Wonwoo had just called to inform you that he was going to come home that month because of a job opportunity he managed to score that wasn’t half the world away. That was already a piece of news you were trying to recover from because Wonwoo? Coming back? As in your soulmate is going to return just as you were getting over him? It was some stupidly accurate timing on fate’s part.

Then there was that sudden shift from joy to fear the moment he asked the question out of the blue. If you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you were going to see him again, how were you supposed to react to this? You didn’t know why, but you froze in fear when you heard the question, as if he caught you red-handed.

Your lips parted as you stared at the wall in front of you, not a single clue of what Wonwoo was referring to on your mind. “I’m sorry, what?” You managed to whisper back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He repeated, voice devoid of emotions and you struggled to recall the events of the past few days. You didn’t do anything wrong, did you? The last time you spoke to him was last week, and to be honest, you didn’t even really think of him after that.

A few seconds of silence passed until you sighed in defeat. “Wonwoo you’re going to have to be more detailed than this, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You didn’t know why he was suddenly being so cryptic with you, it was unlike him to have this hint of bluntness in his tone.

“Chan posted a photo last night.” Was all he gave and he left you to your own thoughts once again. Then it suddenly clicked — no matter how far Wonwoo was, you still managed to slip up.

You had gone to the beach with Chan, Mingyu, and Joshua yesterday, and you so ambitiously didn’t cover up your mark, because why bother? It’s not like Wonwoo was there to see it, and no one else would even care about your mark. They were so common and seen everywhere, letting your guard down once in a while wouldn’t hurt, right? 

Or so you thought.

And of all the days and outfits you wore, and all the times you hung out with your friends, Chan just had to choose a picture where you didn’t have your socks on.

“Ah, well…” You really didn’t know what to say. You weren’t even able to tell him the words that you rehearsed before he left, and now you had to come up with something on the spot?

“How long have you had it for?” He asked quietly, he sounded more betrayed than he did angry.

“I got it before you did.” You replied meekly.

“Then why didn’t you tell me? Was it because of what I said? About not wanting to get in a relationship?”

You didn’t have an answer.

“I—” He let out an exasperated sigh. “I was so worried about meeting my soulmate before I left, and then I spent the what — the last four years? For the last four years I was still waiting and worrying about them, wondering if we were ever going to meet, but you were my soulmate the entire time?”

“I’m sorry…” The mark on your ankle burned as if it was ashamed, and you trembled along with it.

“No, I should be sorry, I didn’t mean to get mad about this.” Another sigh. “I’m just a little overwhelmed, and maybe even a little desperate now that everything’s falling into place. It all makes sense.”

“So what happens now?” You dared to ask the question that’s sat on the tip of your tongue ever since he called you out.

“I’ve — I’ve actually been thinking.” He started, and you heard shuffle around on the other end. “Maybe it’s because for these past 4 years I’ve been a little bit lonelier, living away from you guys, or maybe it’s just because I’ve grown as a person and got to learn more about myself.” There was a short pause.

“But I’m willing to, you know, try for a relationship. A romantic one, I mean. I think I’m willing to try it out, especially if it’s with you. And if it doesn’t go so well, then I was hoping that at least we could go back to being friends again, like the ones we used to be.”

Your head hesitantly nodded at his words until you remembered that he couldn’t see you. This wasn’t supposed to happen — this was hardly part of the plan. Your heart pounded rapidly in your chest as your mind repeated his words over and over again. Wonwoo was ready. 

Wait, Wonwoo was ready?

So what happened to the whole getting over him part? It was thrown out of the window, clearly, seeing that your mouth couldn’t form any kind of disagreement to his suggestion.

“Ah, yeah, I’m willing to give us a chance.” You said.

He let out a small hum and then there was silence on the line. Though the conversation was quiet, your ears burned until he finally spoke up again.

“Also, now that this has been confirmed, I’ve been meaning to ask.” 

“Mhm?”

“Has your mark been disappearing recently? Like the flowers?”

There was an odd sense of relief, hearing that you weren’t the only one experiencing that.

“Oh… yeah they’ve been disappearing.” You confirmed.

“Any idea on why that’s happening?”

You considered your next words before replying. “It could be because things weren’t going so well between us? Not that something wrong happened, but I guess, you know, we’ve been so far apart, and as time goes on, things change, we change. Maybe our marks are trying to tell us something.”

You heard him click his tongue. “That’s reasonable.”

More silence.

“Then,” He spoke up again. “I hope that when I come home, we’ll be able to give each other enough chances so that our marks go back to the way they were.”

Of all the emotions in the world, you never thought that you’d feel hopeful about the thought of Wonwoo coming back, and yet you smiled softly into the receiver.

“I’ll look forward to seeing you then, Wonwoo. Let’s try this all over again.”

=====

Chan called the next day sputtering out an apology about the picture and saying that he took it down despite you insisting that those measures weren’t necessary. What’s been done has been done. You weren’t really sure how the news got to him, but you suspected that Wonwoo must’ve shot him a message earlier. About what exactly? You didn’t know.

It took some time for you to calm the poor boy down, though you ended up having to agree to his persistent plans on buying you something to make up for his mistake.

You settled for a modest cup of coffee — he was still trying to get through school after all, and you didn’t want him to spend his money on something so futile. As a last-minute decision, you also invited Seungkwan to join in on the meeting after you told him about the phone call. 

When you arrived with Chan in tow, he was already sitting there, arms crossed, steaming like the cup of white hot chocolate sitting in front of him. For some reason, during the call he had sounded angrier about the situation than you were, and you shared a wary glance with Chan when you realized that his mood hadn’t changed. He greeted the two of you dismissively as if he didn’t really want to be there.

You pushed it aside at first and spent some time talking about random topics and catching up with each other in an attempt to lighten up the mood. Then you relayed to them the exact details of the call and when you noticed that Seungkwan still hadn’t smiled at all that day, you bit your lip and took in his disheveled appearance.

“Seungkwan… Is everything alright? You seem kind of mad about something.” You tentatively asked.

“That’s because I am kind of mad.” He replied

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but that was not the answer you were hoping for.

“What are you so mad about?” Chan pressed further.

“What am I mad about?” He huffed and took a sip of his drink before continuing. “Everything! This whole situation is just wrong.”

You cocked your head at his words. “Wrong?” You echoed, a little lost.

He dropped his hands to the table in exasperation. “Yes, wrong! I understand that he wasn’t ready for love. That, I totally understand and respect him for, but the whole ‘leaving you to move across the world without even considering your feelings or asking how you felt about it’ just pisses me off in so many ways.” His hand waved around to accentuate his points and continued.

“Y/n, you’re an unbelievably kind person so you probably didn’t even notice, but as a bystander watching this whole situation play out, I just can’t help but feel that Wonwoo is just doing you so wrong. You don’t deserve to suffer like this. I don’t think he deserves another chance so easily.” 

“I’m fine though, really…” You reached out in an attempt to hold his hand and calm him down, but he edged away from you instead.

“You’re not fine though! Don’t lie straight to my face and say that you were fine when he left you at the airport, crying, or when you ignored our messages for a week because you were ‘trying to get over the heartbreak’. I don’t understand how you’re still willing to give him a chance after everything he’s done to you.” He shot back, voice thick with spite.

“Dude you need to chill out. Wonwoo didn’t really do anything wrong, he had no idea they were soulmates.” Chan interjected, voice firm as he stared at his friend in disappointment. Neither of you could believe that Seungkwan, sweet, lovely Seungkwan, was the same man standing in front of you. Sure he had his petty moments, but he’s never lashed out at a friend like this before — his sassiness was all supposed to be saved for jokes.

Said person scoffed at Chan’s words and then turned to look at you.

“All I’m saying is that he doesn’t deserve you! Is it wrong for me to say that?” He defended and stood up from his seat. The chair was pushed back with a noisy screech that made you wince.

In the midst of his wild gestures, he’d accidentally knocked over his cup, spilling some of the leftover contents onto the table. The people sitting at neighbouring tables cast curious glances your way and you frantically gestured for Chan to grab some tissues as you started to clean the mess with the ones you already had.

“Seungkwan please calm down, I’m alright now, seriously.” You tried and looked up at your friend who was still standing, angrily watching you clean up the drink as if it offended him.

“I’m leaving.” That was all he said. It came out quiet, barely a whisper, but you heard it, and you could do nothing but watch him grab his jacket and stride straight out the door, bringing a draft of the cold air into the shop.

Being left to deal with the commotion he created, you and Chan gave a small apology to the people in the shop and tried to ignore the awkward stares and mumbling directed towards you. If only people could mind their own business, the world would’ve been so much better. 

Taking a deep breath as you tossed out the soiled napkin, you tried to calm yourself down. You reasoned that getting yourself worked up about his attitude would only make things worse and decided to leave the shop as well, after Chan suggested you go to the comfort of his house to talk it out instead.

You didn’t know what riled Seungkwan up so much that day. 

=====

“The mall?” You got another impromptu call the following weekend when you were gently washing what was left of your mark. Rumours had it that if you took care of a mark well enough, it’ll flourish. Especially if you use bath salts, they said. The lavender ones. 

Maybe it was silly to believe so, but when the petals started fading away daily, you grew desperate, and you were desperate enough to believe anything that was told to you. Either way, a little self-care didn’t really hurt, right?

“Yeah, I just thought that you know, two friends, we haven’t seen each other for a while… hanging out at the mall sounds nice doesn’t it?” The voice on the other end chirped back.

“Jeonghan, I literally saw you yesterday.”

“So you’re saying no?” You could imagine him childishly pouting right about now and you sighed, shaking your head.

“I’m not declining the invite, but there’s something else going on isn’t there?”

He let out an awkward laugh at your skepticism. “I just wanna see my friend, is it too much to ask for?”

You let out another sigh. “When were you planning on meeting up?”

“How about now? I’m right at your door.”

And sure enough, Yoon Jeonghan was standing right outside your door, all dressed and ready to take you to the mall on a Saturday morning.

=====

You couldn’t place a finger on what made the meeting so suspicious. Jeonghan acted normal the entire time, even offering to buy you a snack when he noticed you eyeing the tempting display. But he didn’t hint at anything he needed to say, and you began to wonder if he really did just want to see you. The man could be a little ambiguous at times.

He did end up having something to talk about. On the bright side, at least your suspicions were correct. On the… not so bright side, that probably meant there was some bad news to share, and you weren’t so sure how much more you could take before you combusted.

You realized his true intentions behind the meetup when he grabbed your hand and led you to one of the benches nearby, nudging you to take a seat as he joined you. He didn’t hesitate to get to the point.

“I heard about what happened the other day.” He had entered therapist Yoon mode.

“What happened?” You played it dumb — you’ve been a fool your entire life, falling for Wonwoo and not doing anything about it, so acting a little oblivious wasn’t too farfetched from your character.

“With Seungkwan, about the little incident.” He spoke to you in a hushed tone, as if there was someone to hide from, but all around you were people milling about, minding their own business. No one was really going to care about what he said to you, nor were they even going to listen in the first place. That idea didn’t seem to occur to him though.

“Oh, that.” There was nothing else to say, and you just nodded your head at his words.

You began to jokingly wonder if there was a secret group chat about you behind your back, and that that was how all these messages were being passed around because you sure as hell didn’t tell anyone about it.

(There was)

“You know… Seungkwan…” He trailed off for a moment and absentmindedly tugged at the hem of your shirt to smoothen out the wrinkles. He was buying time, but there was only so much he had to spend. Taking a deep breath, his hand stopped fussing over you.

“He likes you, yeah?” 

You blanched. “He whats?”

Jeonghan stared straight into your eyes and repeated what he said. “Seungkwan. He likes you. He’s liked you for a while now.”

“I,” You faltered as you searched for ways to respond to that; nothing came to mind. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that.” You admitted. You didn’t know why your body was defaulting to cry at the news, but it did, just like when you said goodbye to Wonwoo, and Jeonghan soothingly stroked your head in an attempt to calm you down.

“Hey, it’s alright, I’m sorry to tell you so suddenly, and I’m sorry that it’s not him who’s telling you, but honestly, I don’t think he ever would, and you wouldn’t have ever gotten a proper explanation for his actions.”  He comfortingly laced his fingers into yours. “Take some deep breaths first — can I continue?”

“Go ahead.” You whispered as you followed his instructions and inhaled deeply. The faint smell of pretzels from a nearby shop entered your mind and in its own way, grounded you as your mind tried to catch up with everything that was going on.

Seungkwan… likes you? Boo Seungkwan, one of your closest friends, your confidant when you learned about Wonwoo’s mark, had liked you this entire time?

“You know things didn’t go so well with him and his soulmate.” It was hardly an explanation, but it was all Jeonghan offered. If anything, it made you feel guilty. What if you were the reason why they didn’t love each other happily? Seungkwan hadn’t told you the details of what happened, all you knew was that someone came in the way, that they just didn’t feel like they were actually soulmates.

And perhaps, you were that certain someone. Now it made sense why he didn’t tell you anything.

Thinking about it now, you felt so bad for pining for someone who didn’t love you back — or at least someone who didn’t love you back then — while someone else close to you had been loving you without you even knowing. It hurt. It hurt to suddenly learn all of this when it was too late. But what would you do if you were to learn about it when Wonwoo hadn’t left yet? When Seungkwan had just met his soulmate? 

You didn’t have answers, but it explained why Seungkwan got so mad when he heard that Wonwoo decided to give you a chance. It makes sense that he would’ve felt cheated off of. 

You probably would’ve felt the same way.

“So,” Jeonghan hesitated and drummed his fingers on the bench before continuing. “The question now, it’s been four years… do you still love Wonwoo?”

The years prior to his departure were dedicated to pushing your feelings aside, and the past four years had been dedicated to finally picking up the dustpan and throwing them in the trash. But now, the emotions came piling on you once again and you were drowning in it.

“Yeah, I still do.”

=====

Jeonghan had advised that you didn’t let Seungkwan’s feelings get in the way of your potential relationship with Wonwoo. The latter was supposed to come home by the end of this week, and now it felt like there was a time bomb ticking away. Any hour not spent in preparation for his arrival felt wasted. You argued Jeonghan’s statement, saying that it was rude of you to pretend like Seungkwan didn’t exist, that to not acknowledge his feelings was essentially the same as saying he didn’t matter.

But then he said that he needed to let go of those feelings and learn to give his soulmate a chance. Apparently, she was willing to love him, but he was still blinded by his love for you. It’s kind of funny how you were in the exact same situation, except with Wonwoo instead.

Maybe you were all fools.

You listened to Jeonghan and gave Seungkwan the space he needed, only sending him a small message that he has yet to reply to. Your time was instead spent on preparing yourself for Wonwoo’s arrival, which came much too quickly for your own good.

=====

Standing there anxiously at the airport your ears perked when you heard the announcements above your head state the arrival of his flight. That’s when it really hit you that you were actually going to see him again.

You were going to see Jeon Wonwoo again.

You were going to see your soulmate, your soulmate who has finally acknowledged you.

Before you knew it, he was there, standing right in front of you.

In all honesty, he didn’t change much in appearance. He was still the soft boy you remembered him to be, with sweater paws covering the hands that carried the bags trailing behind him and round glasses perched on his face.

His small, polite smile was still the same too.

“Hello, y/n.”

Instead of returning the greeting, you found yourself rushing into his embrace, hugging him tightly as if he was going to disappear again.

“I’ve missed you more than I’d like to admit, stupid.” You muttered into his body and you felt him chuckle at that. Pulling apart, you looked at him in the eyes to make sure that it was actually him holding you. “Welcome back.” You smiled.

“Well, I don’t plan on leaving again anytime soon, so we can have more time together then. That is, unless you get sick of me and shoo me away.” He joked lightly and ruffled your hair.

“Me? Shooing my soulmate away?” You replied dramatically, before clearing your throat and getting serious again. “Any time spent with you — romantic or not— is valuable to me, and I don’t plan on ever getting tired of you.”

The hand resting on your head made its way to your side and he timidly took your hand into his, studying your face to make sure he had permission. It was a little awkward, a little clunky, but you thought his hand fit perfectly into yours and you smiled, leaning into him a little bit. As you made your way out of the airport, you glanced down at your hands intertwined with each other and noticed the familiar navy blue beads on his wrist.

“You’re still wearing the bracelet I gave you.” You pointed out.

“This?” He brought his hand up to inspect it. “Of course I still wear it, it’s a gift from you—”

You halted your steps when he suddenly stopped speaking.

“Hm? What is it?”

Still staring at his wrist, his mouth quirked into a small smile and he chuckled.

“Huh, funny.”

You strained your neck in an attempt to see what he was looking at. “What? What is it?” You asked again.

“There’s a little flower on my wrist now.” He replied softly, tilting his arm for you to see, and sure enough, in the midst of the faded flowers by his moon, was a bright blue forget-me-not.

=====

The next morning when you woke up, there was a little flower on your ankle, next to the crescent moon. Though the mark wasn’t the same flowery sky it used to be, the little flower was a start.

And maybe one day, those flowers will flourish along with your love for each other.

=====

epilogue: kairosclerosis

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen soulmate au #wonwoo soulmate au #nose-bandaid

[buckyownsmylife]

Holy Ground - Final Chapter

The one where Andy seems to have lost everything, but he’s not ready to give up.

A terrible car accident ruins Andy Barber’s idea of a perfect life. But if the love’s still there, why wouldn’t he retrace the steps that led him to his happy ending? After all, the best love stories were made to be written more than just once.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N: This is it, everyone. Thanks for sticking out and reading this very angsty whirlwhind of a fic, I hope it was worth it. 

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Hi, someone called me and said I had to get to the hospital. Did something happen? Is my wife okay?” The woman behind the counter smiled patiently at me, but it was a trained smile. I didn’t have the time or the patience for that.

“Calm down, sir. Tell me your wife’s name and then I can direct you to the doctor or her room.” The scene reminded me too much of my first arrival, the one where I was certain I would be told I’d lost everything. It was impossible to stop the anxiety from rising, and I could feel it, climbing my throat and threatening to suffocate me, as I spilled my last name to her.

I tried not to lose it as she checked a few documents with all the calm in this world, like nothing of importance was happening, like my heart wasn’t beating out of control. After what felt like too long, she finally addressed me again.

“There’s no indication of Mrs. Barber’s doctor asking for you… And the nurse who’s taking care of her is on her day off.” I blinked a few times, trying to process her words and failing.

“What does that mean?” I hated the way she looked at me, with pity and understanding. I was tired of being seen like that, a broken man with a broken wife amidst the shattered pieces of what used to be my life.

“It means your wife isn’t going through any serious risk. I’ll try to get in touch with Nurse Jane and see what that call was about. In the meantime, would you like to see Mrs. Barber?” That was a difficult question. Of course I did want to see her, that wasn’t the hard part about it. The problem was… should I?

She never tried to reach out ever since I drove her back to this hospital that morning, almost a week ago. I managed to get some answers about how she was thanks to said Nurse Jane and her doctor, but I didn’t try to talk to her ever since.

I didn’t know what to say. I knew what I wanted to say, of course. The entire truth. I wanted to teach her about the beautiful love story she’d starred by my side, but most of all, I wanted her to believe in me.

And I didn’t think that was possible with the way things were left between us.

I’d barely slept ever since that morning. The good thing about giving her some distance was that I was able to spend some time with our son, something I’d failed to do ever since his birth.

It wasn’t his fault, but he was born from the same accident that almost took his mother’s life. I couldn’t look at him and not think of her. I couldn’t look at him and not remember how wrong everything was, and how much worse it could have been.

But now he was all I had. And I feared this was what my life would be like, if Y/N never decided to give me another chance. So I decided to face my own trauma instead of running from it.

Today was the first time since Y/N left that I had to call the nanny to take care of him again. I spent the last five days with him at all times, trying to learn how to be a parent, trying to feel close to someone I’d decided to shut off before even giving a chance.

He didn’t deserve this father who wasn’t there. That wasn’t the father I wanted to be, anyway. And so I focused on giving him all I had - all of my attention, all of my care, all of my love. I had nothing but time, and I had a lot of it to compensate for.

To be honest, the part of me that still believed Y/N would recover her memory kept reminding me that she would never forgive me for those months of parental bonding I missed. But it wasn’t my fault either.

It didn’t feel right to cherish our son when she wasn’t able to do the same.

“Mr. Barber?” The voice of the nurse from before broke me out of my thoughts, and I blinked a few times in an effort to fully concentrate in the present again. “Would you like to see her?”

Despite everything, I knew the answer I would give.

“Yes.” Of course. “Yes, I want to see her.”

I followed the dutiful nurse down the path I knew all too well, not having it in me to explain to her how her guidance wasn’t necessary. I roamed these halls every night in my sleep and every morning until she left my house. I feared their white apathy would be ingrained in my brain cells for the rest of my life.

“There you go. I’ll leave you two alone.” It was silent when I joined her in the room she’d been living in ever since she got out of the coma. And still, she didn’t seem to hear my arrival - not the door opening and closing behind her, not the sound of my steps resonating through the almost empty room. She looked hypnotized by nothing at all, hand absentmindedly playing with her necklace as she stared at the wall.

“Hey.”  The word startled her, and her head whipped around to look at me, her eyes wide, but with no trace of anger.

“Andy?” I couldn’t figure out why, but the way she said my name sent shivers down my spine. She’d said it before, ever since she woke up - countless times. She said it in bed that night, and it still didn’t seem this sweet.

Perhaps the absence had made me more appreciative of it.

“Yeah.” I was scared of moving any closer to her, or saying anything that might provoke her anger. I knew she had the time to think about what had happened, but I had no idea how she felt about it all now. 

“I don’t mean to impose, I just… Someone from the hospital called me, I thought maybe something had happened to you. I’m glad you’re alright.” She nodded, a small smile on her face as silence fell between us again.

I’d grown to loathe the absence of sound in the time after the accident. At first, it was from the need to hear the beeps that reminded me she was alive. Then it was for its power to feed into my deepest fears and anxieties, my desperate concern of possibly losing her. And now, it was from the expectation that suspicion had become reality - she really didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.

“I can leave, if you want,” I offered, silently praying she wouldn’t take me up on it even as I waved towards the door. Much to my delight and surprise, her eyes widened and she reached out for my hand, as if stopping me from moving.

“No! No, don’t go.” And so we stood there, staring at each other, not knowing what to do until she asked, “Would you like to sit?”

I followed her to the small sofa in the room, still confused about what was happening. Each second that went by highlighted the differences in our situation, but I still couldn’t see it clearly. 

Just what was going on here?

She still held my hand as we sat next to each other, absentmindedly stroking it, her gaze on our laps. It felt just familiar enough to have hope rekindling inside my heart, burning bright inside of it to illuminate my entire being.

“Y/N…” I started, and when her eyes met mine, I unconsciously licked my lips in an effort to keep talking. “Were you the one who called for me?” In the time that she took to answer, the truth was already there, staring back at me. Her hands played with the necklace and when a smile began to form, I threw my arms around her, pulling her to my lap. 

“Oh my God.” She giggled against the crook of my neck, and it was like my heart stopped and I started living again, somehow. “It’s you,” I commented, cradling her face so I could look her in the eye. “It’s really you.”

My voice was so thick with emotion I could barely recognize it, but it didn’t take long until words were replaced by the language of desperate kisses, her hands fisting my shirt as I buried my fingers on her locks.

“What… How much do you remember?” I had to ask when I finally accepted that I needed to let us breathe, leaving her lips to rub our noses together delicately, our foreheadheads glued as I struggled not to lose control.

“There are still gaps,” she confessed, seemingly as unwilling to part from me as I was. “But I remember enough. I know you’re my husband and I know that was our son, and I want to go home, Andy. Please, take me home.”

And there it was, the feeling of wholeness, the lack of craving I never thought I’d have again. It was impossible to keep myself from crying then, but as my shirt became soaked, I knew I wasn’t the only one battling with emotions and dealing with them in the form of tears.

“Of course, darling. Let’s go home.” And running my hand over her cheek, brushing her tears away, I invited, “Let’s go meet our son.”

#my series #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x reader #andy barber reader #andy barber reader insert #andy barber reader inserts #andy barber request #andy barber requests #andy barber fan fiction #andy barber writing #andy barber writings

[monstersandmaw]

Male vampire x male character - Part Three (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This is going to be a four-parter, folks! And here's 3866 words of Part Three for you. Angst ahoy, but you know me, ok, so trust me. Here we meet Alec's little brother, and you'll find out why Sebastien was so jumpy and weird about the Twayblade name.

Part One, Part Two

Alec’s ‘one night stand’ with Sebastien turned into a whole month of of ‘one-night-stands’, and culminated in Sebastien asking him to dinner the following weekend - a pattern which repeated itself every weekend after that.

Sure, the sex was probably the most incredible sex that Alec had ever experienced in his entire life, but what he came to enjoy even more was the time they spent over meals and cups of tea in the intervening time, talking about everything from history to politics to video games and books and everything else besides. Sebastien talked about literature a lot, and Alec sketched him and illustrated his conversations while he spoke.

“You could really make something of yourself with talent like that,” Sebastien had murmured once as Alec had doodled a quick rendition of the Victory of Samothrace on the back of a coffee shop receipt one afternoon in the park.

“Meh,” he shrugged without looking up. “I’d like to, but I’ve got a steady job now, you know? I’m not going to throw it all away just because some gallery might take my work and I might make something of a name for myself, you know?”

Sebastien sighed. “Talent is such an overused word, and great art is rarely based on raw talent alone, but with your dedication over the years, you’ve really honed what natural abilities you have into something exceptional, Alec. I think you should make a go of it at least.”

Alec had flushed, and Sebastien had been distracted by the rising colour his cheeks long enough to abandon that train of thought in favour of kissing him silly on a park bench, and Alec hadn’t much minded.

At an Iranian restaurant near Alec’s place one Friday, four weeks after Halloween, Sebastien leaned on his elbow and popped a fragrant and decadent zoolbia into his mouth, and Alec watched, oddly fixated by the way his fingers held the little fried treat. His eyes, dark and warm and inviting, blinked slowly and he offered Alec a slow-dawning smile that stole his breath.

“We should go to the museum again,” Alec he blurted, thinking back three days when they’d spent their lunchtime meandering around the Italian Renaissance gallery together.

“Mmm?” he asked, licking his fingers in a way that made Alec’s jeans tighten and his throat close.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I mean, I know you’re not sick of me waxing endlessly about quattrocento art just yet…” he said, sipping his delicious cup of tea and trying not to choke on it as Sebastien’s ankle skimmed up his leg beneath the table.

“No,” Sebastien admitted. “You’re right. I’m not.”

With the bill paid by Sebastien this time, after Alec had bought them lunch the previous day, the two of them left the cosy warmth of the restaurant and stepped out into a bitter November night. “Oh fuck it’s cold,” Alec swore immediately, drawing up the collar of his coat.

“You want to head home?” Sebastien asked, a hand on the small of his back.

Unconsciously, Alec leaned into it and smiled up at him. They’d not yet been to Alec’s apartment, and he found himself more and more reluctant to let Sebastien in now that he’d seen the stunning penthouse that he called home. “If you’re sure? I think your wardrobe has more square footage than my entire place though…”

“Alec,” he purred, taking Alec’s hand in his and squeezing his fingers. “I —”

“—You’re freezing,” he commented, interrupting whatever Sebastien had been about to say.

“I don't tend to run hot,” he conceded, “But neither do I feel the cold much. I’d like to see your home, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He leaned in close and kissed the junction of Alec’s jaw and neck for a moment, his lips lingering, tongue just lapping at his skin and sending shivers down Alec’s whole body, shorting out his brain for a heartbeat or six. Sebastien raked his teeth over Alec’s pounding pulse point and he went still, frozen in a paroxysm of pleasure and, oddly, a strange thrill of fear he couldn’t quite place. Instead of pulling away when he recovered himself, however, he tilted his head further to one side, offering himself to Sebastien’s mouth, and the other man moaned decadently, deepening his attentions.

Sebastien’s hands found Alec’s belt and he tugged him sharply closer so that their hips met. Alec tried not to grind himself against Sebastien — they were still on a public street for goodness’ sake — but desire was washing through him in pulsing waves and it was becoming harder and harder to think rationally. That wasn’t the only thing that was becoming hard either, and he let out a harsh grunt before forcing himself to step back with a sheepish grin.

When he looked up at Sebastien, he found that the slightly taller man had frozen and was breathing hard, eyes closed, lips pursed together as though restraining himself from something.

“You ok?”

“Fine,” Sebastien hissed, still not opening his eyes.

Alec frowned. Sebastien looked like he was in pain of all things. “You sure? You look —”

“I’m fine!” he snapped through a clenched jaw. “Let’s go. You’re right. It is cold.”

The short walk to Alec’s apartment passed in tense silence, with Sebastien keeping his eyes locked downwards on the pavement, though he did deign to hold Alec’s hand. He couldn’t help wondering if perhaps he’d pushed things too far in public, given how proper Sebastien tended to be, but then again, Sebastien was the one who had deepened the gesture by practically mauling at his neck for three minutes straight back then.

Alec’s apartment building wasn’t fancy at all, and it certainly didn’t have a doorman, and once they’d stumbled in through the hallway with the busted light fitting in the ceiling, Alec smashed the elevator call button only to find it dull and non-responsive. “Damn,” he cursed. “Out of order again. Stairs?”

“If needs be,” Sebastien said with a gracious smile.

“This would never happen over at Buckingham Palace,” he quipped back, and Sebastien cracked a smile at Alec’s silly nickname for his apartment block.

“Exercise will shake all that dinner down,” he conceded.

Alec twitched his eyebrows in agreement and held the door open to the stairwell for him. As he passed by in the confined space, Sebastien stopped and leaned in, taking Alec’s jaw in his cool hands and kissing him gently, reverently, on the lips.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I was rude back then.”

Alec shrugged, feeling awkward at the sheer, heartfelt tenderness in the gesture.

“I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

“I like it when you’re rougher with me,” he smirked. “You should know that after a month of fucking me senseless.”

As if Alec’s words had hit him like a sledgehammer to the nuts, Sebastien rolled his eyes and grimaced, but he did laugh. “You do seem to like a firm hand, granted,” he said. “Let’s get upstairs shall we? Before I take you right here, and I’m not sure how sanitary this situation is…”

Alec needed no more encouragement, and he didn’t even get to give Sebastien the fleeting, one-minute tour of his tiny flat before the man was on him, kissing him blind and backing him into a wall hard enough to knock the wind from him. Sebastien came alive in moments like that, when he could kiss him and lavish attention on Alec, and the latter was not about to stop him.

It wasn’t long before Sebastien’s wandering lips found Alec’s neck again, and as Alec gasped, fists balled into Sebastien’s shirt collar, he felt the sharp prick of teeth quickly followed by the generous suck of a love bite in the making. His knees went weak and he nearly staggered as a huge rush of endorphins swam through his mind, leaving him limp and wobbly all over. Well, almost everywhere.

“I want you,” he gasped, and Sebastien lost no time in locating the tiny bedroom and tossing him onto the bed, stripping them both with startlingly attractive efficiency. Alec barely managed to yank a bottle of lube and a box of condoms from his top drawer before Sebastien was spreading his legs and laving his tongue up over the curve of his balls.

“Oh fuck me,” Alec exclaimed as Sebastien’s slick finger slid into him and he hissed at the intrusion. A moment later, he was lying with his head flung back into the pillows while Sebastien slid a second inside him and began to do just that with his fingers until Alec was finally ready — and more than desperate — for Sebastien’s cock.

Sebastien had a beautiful body, all lean, corded muscle and slender lines, and as he got more and more aroused, his deep olive skin seemed to glow almost supernaturally. He was perfection incarnate. Bernini couldn’t have carved him, even if he’d been given a lifetime to try. Alec was no Bernini but he’d still love to sculpt him.

Sebastien chuckled sweetly and crooked his finger, sending a jolt of searing pleasure through Alec so hard his vision whited out for a moment and his back arched. “I’m flattered,” Sebastien murmured, placing open-mouthed, messy kisses down Alec’s leg as he spontaneously bent that knee up.

“Shit, I said that out loud…” he laughed, still vague and giddy with the sensations sparking under his skin.

“Mmm,” he smiled, lowering his face to Alec’s inner thigh and kissing fervently all up his leg to the crease of his thigh and hips before smoothing his leg back down onto the bed. His breath fanned out across Alec’s sensitive skin and he quivered and bucked, causing Sebastien’s curled finger to brush his prostate again and he yelled.

“Please…”

Moments later, Sebastien entered him at last and stilled, allowing him to adjust to the new intrusion.

When he fucked him like this, Sebastien seemed to take on a new energy, becoming something almost more primal, and Alec lived for it. The expression on his face as he closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the heat of Alec’s body closing around him, taking him, drawing him in, was something he would never get used to, no matter how many times it happened. He was certain of it.

“You’re so tight,” Sebastien grunted, easily shifting Alec’s hips up a degree or two and adjusting his own angle so that he could thrust into his prostrate with every stroke.

Alec’s words failed him as immense pleasure ripped through him, building and building. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” he barely managed to grunt as Sebastien somehow picked up the pace and began to pound into him with renewed vigour. The man seemed utterly devoted to Alec’s pleasure, as if it was the only thing driving him.

With an utterly inhuman snarl, Sebastien opened his mouth and whispered, “Come for me.”

The sheer weight of command in his voice tore through Alec and he came instantly, untouched, painting his torso with ropes of his release and wrenching Sebastien’s own orgasm from him by sheer force a second after.

Sebastien curled forwards with a hiss, hips spasming as he released, and his lips found Alec’s neck again, and then his collarbone. In the daze of his own peak, Alec thought he saw a flash of red in Sebastien’s eyes again, but he was out of sight too quickly for him to believe what he’d seen. Instead, he found Sebastien kissing his hammering pulse while he finished. Finally going still, Sebastien slumped atop him, breathing hard, his white-blond hair spilling everywhere and tickling Alec’s stubble. He was too tired to care though.

When he woke, hours later, he realised groggily that it must be the middle of the night. Sebastien was curled up beside him, obviously having found the tiny bathroom to clean up, and he was now spread out beside him on his small, lumpy mattress as if this were a palace and he a prince, not some tiny, shitty apartment in the rough bit of town.

Something about the way Sebastien slept still freaked Alec the fuck out. He didn’t seem to be breathing, and when he had laid his palm on Sebastien’s chest on their first night together, the man had gasped and jolted awake like the living dead, sucking in air like he’d been underwater for hours. This time, he refrained from touching him, and instead stared at his inhuman beauty. There wasn’t a mark or scar or freckle on him, and his darkly tanned body spread out over the white sheets like a bronze sculpture arranged in a gallery for the adoration of thousands. And yet he chose Alec to be his only supplicant. Something lurched in his chest and he smiled bashfully, blushing, although there was no one to witness it.

Awake, Sebastien looked maybe thirty, thirty five years old, but asleep, he looked far younger; closer to eighteen or nineteen perhaps, with an innocence around his white-lashed eyes and the natural downward curl of his beautiful lips.

Unable to resist touching him completely, Alec kissed him and rolled over, drawing the duvet up around his ears and sinking back into a deep, dreamless sleep. His whole body felt heavy and satiated in a way he’d never experienced before with anyone. Something clenched in his heart; this felt right somehow.

But nothing is fated to last forever, is it?

Alec stirred groggily, unwillingly, the next morning, becoming aware of a rapid-fire knocking on the apartment door. Grunting, he kicked back the covers and fished for a pair of boxers and a shirt from the floor beside the bed. Sebastien slept on, apparently not having moved at all since the previous evening. Did he have sleep apnoea or something? It was something he’d have to bring up after he’d sorted whatever this was. It wasn’t natural for a man to sleep like that.

Like the dead.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” he grumbled, stumbling across the apartment and peering though the peephole in the door. Twitching back in surprise, he opened it. “Theo?”

His little brother’s bright, sunny grin beamed back at him. “Hey bro,” he chuckled jovially, stepping in as if he owned the place and shooting him a cheeky look back over his shoulder. “Brunch?”

“Brunch?” Alec frowned. “Since when do you do ‘brunch’? And since when is it brunchtime anyway?” He glanced at the clock in the kitchen and his eyebrows rose. It was well past eleven o’clock.

“Late night, I see,” Theo snickered, eyeing Sebastien’s shirt which was still on the floor outside the bedroom door, currently ajar from Alec’s hasty exit.

“Shut up.”

Theo’s grin doubled and his blue eyes glittered. Like Alec, he had the unusual combination of dark hair and blue eyes, and like Alec he could be described as ‘roguish’ at times. Now though, it bordered on downright Puckish. Looking not his actual twenty-one years but somewhere closer to sixteen, Theo shook his head.

“Brother mine, when will you —” he snorted but then stopped and his expression fell, shattering from playful to horrified in a heartbeat before he rapidly attempted to cover it by turning towards the bedroom. “Is he still here?” he whispered.

“Yeah, so keep the jokes to a minimum, would you?” Alec snarled. “What did you want anyway?”

But Theo had changed completely. Gone was the ebullient Labrador puppy and instead a tense, alert, wary young man stood before him.

“What the fuck’s wrong?” Alec hissed, heartbeat ticking faster like an over-wound clock.

And Theo spun and then froze as the door to the bedroom opened and Sebastien appeared on the threshold.

Theo’s lip curled into an ugly snarl and Sebastien regraded him steadily, apparently unfazed by the unexpected hostility.

“The younger Twayblade, I assume,” he said with such ice in his usually warm tone that it shook Alec into stunned silence. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“You’re shitting me,” Theo whispered, horror thickening his tone.

Alec blinked and looked from Sebastien to his little brother and back again. Never in all his years of dating men had he felt so uneasy around a family member. “What’s going on…?” he finally croaked.

“That’s what — who — you’re sleeping with?” Theo practically spat out.

Cold, defensive vitriol bubbled up inside him and he might actually have lunged for his brother had Sebastien not crossed the room in three rapid strides and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “I take my leave,” he said quickly.

“Not so fast, fang-face,” Theo sneered and Sebastien froze. “Get away from my brother.”

“Or what?” Sebastien said in the quietest and steadiest of voices.

“What the fuck is going on!” Alec blurted into the tense silence that followed Sebastien’s taunt.

The other two blinked, and Sebastien sighed. He met Alec’s eye as he asked, “You really didn’t know at all, did you?”

“Know what?” Alec snapped, rage rolling through him. “Do you two know each other or something? What am I missing here?”

“I think this is a family matter that you need to work out between you,” Sebastien said, voice still tinged with frost. “Alec, you know where to reach me if you decide to continue what we’ve shared this past month.” And with that, he turned and walked from the apartment.

“Wait, stop!” Alec yelled after him, but he was gone down the stairwell and Theo was at his side, tugging him back into the apartment. “Fucking explain yourself!” he snapped, rounding on his brother.

“You’d… better sit down.”

“No. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

Theo stared him down, meeting blazing sapphire stare with blazing sapphire stare. “Sit. Down.”

The tone of his voice shocked Alec into doing exactly that, and he sank numbly down onto the saggy old couch in the living room without a word.

What followed next was like something from a movie.

“The Twayblades are an ancient family of monster hunters,” Theo said gently. “Father’s not in the military. Well, he is, but it’s not a normal unit or anything. That’s just a cover.”

“And mother?” he asked mechanically, the information-dump that Theo had just heaped upon him not sinking in, but floating like scum on the surface of his churning mind.

“She’s one too. And Ellie.”

“Ellie hunts… monsters?” he asked. “Like… what… the Boogeyman? Bigfoot?” Incredulity made his tone flippant, but something in the calm sincerity of his brother’s eyes told him it was true, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“Dracula…?” Theo added darkly.

“Dracula.” And then the penny dropped. “Wait. ‘Fang-face’. You’re saying you think my boyfriend is a vampire?”

Theo levelled him with a look from where he was leaning against the windowsill, arms folded over his chest in a manner eerily reminiscent of his big brother.

Now as Alec regarded him, he saw the harsh young man that this little kid had become. The puppy fat had melted into a steel jaw and a hard gaze, and his body seemed coiled for action at any moment. He had the body of a soldier, Alec realised with plunging horror. He knew Theo worked out — he was apparently a personal trainer and nutritional coach for celebrities in London, but even that seemed to have been a lie after what he’d just learned. Apparently the Twayblades actually hunted monsters — he and their parents and their older sister Ellie. Alec and Angie had been left out because they were apparently not ‘hunter material’ whatever that meant. Maybe it meant he was a monster fucker instead. He almost laughed.

“Theo, come on… I can’t believe any of this,” Alec said, leaning back into the sofa and pressing the heels of his palms to his aching eyeballs. All he’d wanted to do this morning was to wake up and maybe have Sebastien fuck him into the mattress a few times before breakfast until he was wrung out and softly buzzing like they had every weekend for the last month.

Now he was having some bizarre fairytale forced at him and he was supposed to believe it like it was some kind of sick joke. But he did believe it, and that was what scared him most of all. It wasn’t a joke. Theo showed him videos his father and he had captured on some of their ‘hunts’, exterminating a poltergeist here and eradicating a revenant there, and in the end Theo phoned their father on speaker, opening without preamble, “Dad, Alec’s dating a vampire.”

“Do you have proof?” was their father’s instant, chilling response. No ‘I'm sorry, what did you say, son?’ or ‘What’s all this nonsense?’. No. He went straight to the heart of it. With a stake.

“Just walked past the sucker leaving the flat.”

“Ancient?”

“No, thank goodness. Maybe just a century at most?”

“Can you eliminate him without alerting Alec?” their father asked, at which point Alec’s heart cracked.

He leapt to his feet and blurted, “Fucking what?”

After a heartbeat of silence, their father sighed. “Unfortunate. I had hoped to keep you and Angela out of this.”

“You’re telling me it’s all real?”  he asked, goggling at Theo who held the phone out on speaker between them like it was a live grenade. “You’re all insane!”

“Tell me something, son,” his father said flatly. “Have his eyes ever flared red during a moment of passion? Does he seem to fixate on your neck? Do you find yourself willing to do as he wishes without question?”

Theo interjected quickly, “He’s not compelled. His eyes are clear.”

“Well, that’s something at least,” their father scoffed. “Theo, you know what you have to do. Kill it.”

“‘It’?” Alec shot, eyes bulging, and Theo did have the grace to cringe. “Kill it? You’re going to kill him? He’s a lecturer at the university, Theo. You can’t just fucking kill him?!”

“He might be under the guild rules…” Theo said. “He might be a blood bank user, not a live-feeder… I’ll look into it first.”

Alec’s knees turned to water but he kept himself upright through sheer force of will.

“Fine. But don’t hesitate. And don’t make concessions just because Alec might be compromised.”

Theo nodded and hung up without farewell. “Look, Alec,” he grimaced. “I’m… I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t come here to —”

“— to kill my boyfriend?” he growled, taking a step towards his little brother. To his credit, Theo did actually take half a step back in the face of Alec’s confused, hurt, betrayed ire, holding his hand palm-up.

“No. I came here to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but —”

“—Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out!” he roared, jabbing his index finger at the door and pulling out his phone.

Theo surprised him by nodding and leaving, shutting the door behind him with a click and leaving Alec standing in the centre of the living room, chest heaving, phone in hand, ears ringing.

As his brother’s footsteps disappeared down the stairwell, he unlocked his phone and dialled Sebastien’s number.

Three rings in, Sebastien answered.

“It it true?” Alec asked without preamble.

After a long inhale, Sebastien answered. “…Yes.”

__

Sorry for the cliffie!! More soon, but it’ll hit Patreon first, then Tumblr. Don’t let me forget, either!

Part Four

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I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me  know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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#vampire #vampire boyfriend #exophilia #male vampire #male vampire x male human #male vampire x human #mlm #mlm exophilia

[poliel]

Fix-It Deaths: Floofty

Content warning: this fic contains major character death.

I had the idea to do this way back when I first played through the bad ends and got disappointed by Floofty's reaction to Shelda's deaths and vice-verse as well as Cromdo and Beffica's reaction to each other's death, and the fact that when one of the Fizzlebean siblings died, the other has no reaction to it whatsoever. I'd drifted away from the idea, pulled by other ideas for this fandom as well other fandoms, but as I said in the summary, the horror of it fits for the darker side of the Halloween spirit so I returned.

As of right now I only have two of these written, this one and the one where Shelda dies. I was supposed to start the Beffica chapter tonight but, uh, it ain't happening. That should be fine though, I have the whole month practically to finish the last two chapters. I make no promises though, other than to try my best, my main focus for Halloween is art so it might not happen.

Happy first day of Halloween regardless though.

~

Being proven right about bugsnax would’ve been a wonderful moment under almost any other circumstance. But as it as, Shelda only desperately wished she’d been wrong instead.

“I feel our decision to split up was a mistake,” Floofty said as they fired the fist, knocking a serious of snax back to splat into the ground more due to luck and the density of them than actual aiming skill.

“One is in agreement for once.” Shelda’s only weapon was a hoe stolen from somewhere after the first wave had come out of the ground. It had been fairly easy to push it back. This second wave though, not so much.

Shelda held the right flank while Floofty guarded their left. Even so they were being driven back, step by step until… Shelda gasped as her back pressed against the rough wooden boards of the barn’s wall. On one hand they couldn’t be attacked from behind, on the other though they had nowhere left to go.

The ground rumbled and shook again, throwing off Floofty’s next shot, making it miss utterly this time. Almost as if sensing the opening more bugsnax grew out of the ground and pressed in.

“Back foul toxins, back!” Shelda screeched as she swung her hoe, whacking a couple strawbys away.

Floofty let out her own wordless battle cry. But Shelda couldn’t afford to pay attention to them. She just had to trust them to hold off the snax on that side much like how they were doing for her. Neither of them were going die here today, Shelda simply would not allow it. They were going to make it through and later once they were safe and sound on the mainland again she was going to make sure Floofty never forgot that she was right and they were wrong.

So, abandoning her pacifism for the first time since she’d taken that vow, she went to town with the hoe. Smashing anything that dared approached until her hoe was bent and dripping in various bugsnax juices. She kept going on even as her arms started to ache and burn, her breathing ragged and heavy.

Oh grumping fuck, how many more could there be? Surely they had to stop coming eventually, right? Hopefully help would come before…

Floofty let out a cry of distress. They’d fallen to their hands a knees, either knocked down by an aggressive snac or lost balance some other way, didn’t matter. They were given no time to even try to right themself before they were swarmed completely.

The bugsnax covered every inch of them as they crawled up and forced their way into their mouth. They choked, gagged, and sputtered, flailing their paws uselessly underneath the mass of bugsnax.

With a vicious snarl, Shelda went at them, whacking as many away as she could. But… all the bugsnax had stopped going for her, instead focusing on the easier already down target. There were too many and they just kept coming. Even if she’d been in her prime, there wasn’t much more Shelda could’ve done.

Far too soon the gagging and sputtering spotted, as did the flailing. The bugsnax pulled back, revealing Floofty, or what was left of them. Their snakified flesh was… oozing off them, revealing white bone underneath as it melted into the ground.

Shelda turned and gagged, probably the only thing keeping her from vomiting was the fact that she hadn’t eaten in a while. Before she could recover the bugsnax were swarming her next, climbing up her legs. This was it, now it was her turn. She was going to share the same fate as…

A very well aimed shot from the fist canon knocked the snax off her chest. She gasped, looking over to see Buddy already aiming their next shot. With no time to thank them, she burst back into motion, quickly knocking the rest of the snax crawling up onto her off.

For whatever reason, the flow of snax was slowing. Allowing Buddy to quickly clear a path, freeing Shelda.

“Go back to the airship,” they said, not even looking at her as they continued to keep the bugsnax away.

“But what about…” Shelda glanced at what was left of Floofty. Just a pile of bones where once, just a matter of minutes ago, there had been a full living breathing grumpus. How was it even possible for someone to be there and then gone in such a short amount of time? No one deserved such a fate, not even them… especiallynot them. “If nothing else we should at least…”

“No time,” Buddy interrupted with a slight growl. “Get out of here now before they start swarming again.”

Shelda’s suggestion that they should gather up Floofty bones for a proper burial later died on her lips. Buddy was right, as much as Floofty deserved at least that, they didn’t have time. Shelda was beyond spent and sticking around while Buddy protected her was only holding them back from rushing off to potentially help the others. So… she tore her gaze away and turned to run back towards the airship.

She encountered a few bugsnax on the way back but nothing she couldn’t just run past. Filbo greeted her as she reached the ship but she ignored him as she made her way over to the ship’s cabin. She didn’t go in though, instead sinking to the deck and leaning back against its wall.

Don’t think about it. …. Don’t think about it. … Don’t think about it. … But in all her years and having known many people who were gone now, she’d never witnessed anyone she’d known well die violently. She’d never known someone who’s death she could’ve possibly prevented. If she’d managed to get the snax off Floofty or hold them off entirely for just a little longer than Buddy would’ve arrived in time to save both of them.

Such an awfulway to go too. And the two of them been starting to get along, sort of anyway. But now that was all gone. All of everything that made up Floofty was gone forever. All of the scientific achievements and discoveries their brilliance might’ve led to in the future to help the world and grumpkind was never to be.

It was unwise to dwell on such things, she’d learned that a long time ago. But despite that and all her years and supposed wisdom, her thoughts circled on it anyway.

~

Snorpy and Chandlo arrived on the air ship next, Snorpy huffing and puffing from the run, though Chandlo looked a little spent too. Oh no. Shelda would have to tell Snorpy about Floofty. … Not now though. Let him not have to bear the knowledge of how horribly his sibling had died for just a little while longer.

But alas, as soon as he was done checking in with Filbo on the airship’s engine, a process that took only a few seconds, he and Chandlo turned and made their way over to stand before Shelda.

“Floofty was with you, right?” Snorpy wasted no time getting to the point, huh? “When I was running to help Chandlo, I’m sure I saw them with you. So… where are they?” His expression was confused as he looked around the ship, seemingly the thought of the worst having happened hadn’t even occurred to him yet.

Shelda took a breath, intending to spout some ‘wisdom’ that would really be just gobbledygook meant to obscure the bad news and hide it for a little longer. But… no, now wasn’t the time for that. “They’re dead.”

His face dropped like a stone. “What?”

Chandlo’s expression almost mirrored his. “Nuh-uh, no way they’re dead… right?” He looked at Shelda as if she could somehow take those words back and make them not true. If only she had such powers.

She could only shake her head. “I tried to save them. I really did but… it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.”

For a moment Snorpy looked like he was going to say something but ultimately just shook his head and turned away as he shrunk in on himself. Chandlo followed as he went to the other corner to grieve in.

“Wait! Floofty’s really dead?” Filbo cut in. To his credit though he remained by his post.

“Yes,” Shelda said. “Now be quiet about it.” The last thing anyone needed was Filbo being Filbo about this.

“Oh uh… okay.” He shrunk in on himself too and turned away once more. “Sorry Snorpy about… I guess you probably don’t want to listen to me about it but… sorry. … I’ll shut up now.”

And this was only the beginning of having to tell everyone about Floofty. Well at least the hardest part was out of the way. Hopefully everyone else would make it back to the airship okay.

#my writing #bugsnax #floofty fizzlebean #shelda #floofty & shelda #major character death

[snifflesthemouse]

I'm still rather new to Tumblr. While I've clearly displayed my ability to post my ramblings, I'm still figuring out the other various features of this platform. For the sake of reference, I have posted a screenshot below.

While I completely agree with @youhavebeenmarkled that it's grossly inappropriate to suggest Catherine, the future Queen Consort, is a drug addict... I want to add to the discussion and further develop why the concept of Catherine microdosing heroin is entirely ignorant.

@youhavebeenmarkled mentions several excellent points as to why the concept is ridiculous; from genetics to muscle tone and more. But there's deeper reasons why this idea of Catherine being on heroin is so far from the truth and reality, it's out of this world. Some could even argue it sounds like a page from a Hollywood script.

Before I get started, though, I want (and need) to stress a few things. I am in no way shaming anyone. As I've shared in the past, I am the last person in the universe qualified to pass judgement on anything or anyone. My posts are simply my perspectives, my opinions. I look at facts in the public domain, and with my own knowledge and life experience, I form my thoughts.

Please remember while you read this, I am not looking down on anyone. I am not bragging about knowing what drug addiction is or is not. I am only sharing some insights with you, the reader, on what real life heroin addiction is like. My only goal is giving insight.

I am not proud of my past, and I am not condoning it. Nor should you. Accountability is how I stay clean. Please do not feel like I am suggesting non-addicts are ignorant or "square". Not knowing or understanding heroin addiction is a blessing. It's a good thing to be in the dark about certain things because it means you're smarter than people like me.

Be proud of the fact you don't automatically see why these blind items are total nonsense from the start. And if you aren't proud of yourself, just know I am proud AF of you. For those of you like myself who have been through the hell of addiction, remember we do recover. With all that being said, let's get going.

You see, anyone with firsthand experience or knowledge of true heroin addiction would automatically know these rumors are absolutely ridiculous. Why? Because heroin addiction doesn't work that way.

Now don't get me wrong. The world is filled with functioning closet addicts. I myself was a functioning closet addict for years before the world was any the wiser. The key point, though, is the world did eventually get wiser.

Heroin addiction usually starts out in one of a few ways. Most Americans addicted to heroin became that way because of prescription painkillers. For example, I first got addicted to pain pills. When the pain pills became impossible to get, I took what I could get that was the closest equivalent. That was heroin.

But some people start using heroin because they did some at a party with friends. Or they have a loved one addicted and wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Some people are hooked on other drugs, like cocaine or ecstasy, and their usual dealer offers a free sample of the latest batch of heroin. There's a saying among addicts; "The first one's free."

Dealers know they can increase their profitability if they can get established clients addicted to other products they traffic. But these are just a few examples of how people get started using heroin. Very rarely does anyone start out on heroin simply because they want to stay thin. Contrary to the popular belief known to many as "heroin chic" that came from supermodels in the mid 80s and 90s.

Heroin is what addicts refer to as a euphoria narcotic. It has a euphoric effect, and it is sometimes called a "downer". Cocaine, crack cocaine, methamphetamine, or amphetamines are called "uppers" or "speeders" because they stimulate the brain and give energy. While heroin can have that affect on people, it is not the traditional go-to for illicit weight management.

In other words, if Catherine really did use microdosing (a concept I will debunk in a moment), her first, best choice would be a stimulant like cocaine because it's much more effective at appetite suppression and providing energy. Heroin wouldn't be the first, best choice for many reasons.

Because of its nature, heroin is highly addictive. Most users begin snorting the drug in powder form. Within seconds to a minute, the substance enters the bloodstream and hits the brain. The brain then releases endorphins that travel the rewards pathway in the brain. The first time one uses heroin is the highest they will ever feel from using. Every subsequent dose releases less and less endorphins in the brain. This is why recovering addicts talk about chasing their sobriety like they chased their first high. This is also why microdosing is an almost-impossible behavior.

Microdosing means taking tiny, small amounts over time. Meaning that you only use the minimum amount to achieve the effect you desire. But the problem is, your brain becomes physically dependent on the substance over time. Every time an addict uses, the brain gets more dependent on that substance to function. So, while a non-addict's brain has no issues with their brain producing endorphins, an addict's brain does. This is why heroin is so addictive.

Eventually, a heroin addict's brain will become so reliant on heroin to produce endorphins, the addict will become entirely dependent. This is also known as becoming hooked. When the addict doesn't have the minimum amount of heroin the body is accustomed to, or depending upon, the addict will start withdrawal. This is often called being "dope sick" or "detoxing".

Detoxing or being dope sick is the driving force behind addicts staying addicts. Being dope sick is the biggest fear of an addict. So much so, the fear of detoxing is enough to drive otherwise good, decent human beings to doing absolutely whatever it takes to avoid detoxing. Stealing from loved ones, manipulating innocent bystanders, lying, cheating, robbing, selling your body... are the half of it.

Being dope sick is like having the worst flu of your life times a million. You will vomit, have uncontrollable diarrhea, and your body will hurt worse than anything you could ever imagine. If you detox for more than a day, you will begin to feel like your insides are shaking, burning, and pulling apart inside. You can't sleep. You can't eat. You can't get out of bed. You miss work and lose your job (if you still have one at this point). You get desperate before this point, and you get carnal after this point.

Your brain and entire body becomes dependent on this substance to function subpar. Without this substance, everything begins to stop working properly. Depending on exactly how much you use normally, your withdrawal can become life threatening. You can have seizures, strokes, or even go into cardiac arrest. Hopefully you can see by now why I say the concept of microdosing is ridiculous.

To be able to micro dose would require the self control and willpower of a super human. This reminds me of an article I once read about a college professor who advocated for drug use. He claimed he wasn't addicted, had control of his drug use, and was a productive member of society. He said he'd use heroin like others drink after a long day of work. Yet, he's been using it for over a decade. Yet, he experienced detoxing. That professor is a prime example of an addict in denial. But I digress...

My points are this:

1. Heroin wouldn't be the first choice for weight control or appetite suppression; cocaine or stimulants like meth or ritalin would be.

2. Microdosing is an almost-impossible method of drug use because the body gets hooked quickly. Which means the dose will only increase in amount in order to have the same effects over time.

3. Heroin causes an addiction that results in serious, life threatening withdrawal that drives even the nicest person to doing the worst of the worst.

4. Heroin addiction, even in small amounts, takes no time to invade and overtake one's life. It literally only takes one time to get hooked. It literally takes no time to destroy everything.

Oh, and one more thing before I put a sock in it... at the height of my active addiction, I was using around 2 grams a day to feel normal. I spent at minimum $200 a day on heroin. Sometimes even more. When I started out, I was only using a tenth or less. It takes 10 of those to make a gram. So within two months of starting, I went from doing one tenth to needing 20 of those tenths just to feel normal and function. All the while, I never got smaller than 150 pounds.

I know it sounds terrible, but I would lament over how unfair it was. I was doing all this heroin, and I was still thick AF. I would literally joke to fellow addicts I would use with how it was total bullshit. How was it I was using 2 grams a day and still a size 12 or 14? That's how sick I was in my disease. Which is my final point.

Not everyone on heroin is "heroin chic" skinny. The effort, will power, and self control it would take to "microdose" would be far greater than what it would take to control one's diet and exercise. Plus it would be much cheaper to hire a trainer than employ a drug dealer.

I hope this very long, detailed, winded post gives better insight to the deeper reasons the blind item is so dumb. I also hope it gives insight to the real life of heroin addiction. My goal was, and is, to provide real examples to the blind item's absurdity. If I can help people better understand heroin addiction, potentially deterring someone from ever touching it or even a loved one learning something that could help someone they know struggling with addiction... well that would be a bonus.

P.S. If you or a loved one you know is struggling with addiction, there is help out there. If you have any questions or just need someone to listen, please feel free to message me. I will do my best to help. I've been there. They say the only way to keep your sobriety is by giving it away... I have plenty to give. Be forewarned, though, I am unapologetically blunt and honest to a fault. I mean no harm, but I will not sugar coat anything.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Lost in Translation: Part Three

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE AUTHOR’S NOTE TRANSLATIONS ON AO3

He was right, though; it took a couple of minutes, but her body learned to accommodate him enough for him to go further before he had to stop. It took several more minutes of this process before he was fully seated within her.

Laurie collapsed atop her, kissing her neck. “God, Amy,” he moaned into her skin. “Let me know when I can move, alright?”

She nodded, and he kissed her passionately, sucking her tongue into his mouth as his hands roamed her body. They continued kissing in this way until she realized she was no longer in pain.

Pulling back from his lips slightly, she said, “alright.”

Propping himself up on straining forearms, he pulled out of her slowly before entering again just as slowly.

It wasn’t painful, but it took a few thrusts for her to begin to enjoy it.

When pleasure began to flow through her, her body clenched around his, drawing a “fuck,” from his lips and making him instinctively thrust into her a little harder, a little faster.

Finding she liked that, Amy pulled him down for a kiss, winding her fingers into his hair. “More,” she begged. “Please, more.”

“Anything,” he gasped into her mouth as he continued the movement of hips against hers. “I’ll give you anything.”

“I just want you,” she moaned, clutching at his shoulders. “Please, I- I love you so much, this feels- God, Laurie-“ His thrusts were gradually increasing in pace, and Amy wondered if it were possible to die from pleasure.

“I love you, too,” he groaned, kissing her again. “Amy, Amy, Amy-“ He was chanting her name as he plunged in and out of her, as if he’d lost control of his vocal chords. “You’re so tight, fuck-“

“Don’t stop,” she begged, clenching around him again. “Please don’t stop, feels so good-“

Laurie growled at that. “Voglio scoparti senza senso,” he told her, eyes intent on hers. “Voglio martellarti dentro fino a quando non riesci a camminare dritto.”

The sound of him speaking Italian made her muscles spasm again, but she said, “what-“

“It means,” he cut in with another thrust, “I want to fuck you senseless,” he told her, gripping her breast almost roughly. “I want to pound into you until you can’t walk straight.”

Any nodded, desperate for him, for anything he would give her.

“Only if you want me to,” he said against her neck, nipping the skin there. “Only if you’re sure.”

“Yes, Laurie, yes, I want it, I want everything with you, please- ah!” Her words were cut off by a scream when he slammed into her hard enough the bed shook. Bracing her feet on the mattress, she slid her hips over the mattress to meet his, needing more of him, more of everything he was giving her.

Wrapping his arms around her back to hold her close to him, as close as they could possibly be, he pounded into her again and again, so hard she wondered if she’d break, but it felt so incredible she found she didn’t care. Armageddon could have come and gone and she wouldn’t have noticed or minded. Not as long as he didn’t stop.

“I love you,” he moaned against the skin of her throat. “I love you, Amy.”

“I- I love yo-“ she cut herself off on another moan. “Yes, God, yes, so good, please-“

He kissed her throat over and over, as if he could imprint himself into her skin, slamming into her repeatedly.

“Laurie,” she sobbed, her muscles clenching and unclenching.

“You’re incredible, il mio tutto,” he murmured, pressing his lips to hers hungrily. She returned his kiss fervently, rubbing her tongue against his with a moan. “So perfect for me. You were made to take me, love,” he told her, nibbling on her lower lip and slamming into her again and again. “We were made for this.”

She hadn’t been so sure of that beforehand, but now, with him inside her, giving her everything she hadn’t known she needed, she agreed with him wholeheartedly, so she nodded, whimpering.

“Tell me you’re mine, dolce moglie,” he demanded, thrusting harshly. “Say you belong to me and me alone.”

“Yes,” she gasped out. “I- I’m yours, I’m yours, only yours, only you, I’m yours-“ She spoke in more of a jumbled litany than a coherent statement, but Laurie didn’t mind. He quite liked that he’d taken coherency from her.

He kissed her in reward, thrusting into her again and reaching between them to rub her as he fucked into her.

Amy screamed. She was so sensitive already that it only took a few swipes of his fingers before she clenched his cock like a vise, her legs instinctively wrapping around him to keep him inside her.

Still, though, he didn’t relent. He was groaning, needing her, needing to find the completion that he’d given her, and yet, he wanted more. More of this, more of her body, more kissing and touching. More of her love.

It took her a couple of minutes to recover, but she soon resumed meeting his hips with hers, much to his delight. Cupping her cheek, he gazed into her eyes.

“I love you,” he told her, thrusting inside her again. “I love you.”

Finally certain he truly was in love with her, she smiled and kissed him. “Then show me,” she said against his lips. “Give me a baby.”

“A- a what?” he gasped, shocked.

“A baby,” she said again. “I want your baby. I want you to put a baby inside of me.”

“Amy, God, I-“

“Please?” she begged softly, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. “Please get me pregnant, Laurie.”

He looked at her for a moment; her sparkling blue eyes, gazing up at him with pure, unadulterated adoration; her shining blonde hair in a halo on the pillow underneath her, and then he nodded jerkily, kissing her again.

“Anything you want, my love,” he promised her again. “Anything.”

Smiling giddily, she kissed him. He pulled out of her and slammed back in with such force that her body jerked backwards on the bed.

He was murmuring into the crook of her neck as he fucked her; some of what he said made sense, some didn’t. “Fucking amazing, so perfect, so tight, my love, mia amata, love you so much, Amy, my Amy, gonna fill you, gonna fuck a baby into you, wanna see you swell up with my child, show everyone that you’re mine, all mine, all mine, God, Amy-“

He was putting pictures in her mind; beautiful shining ones, and she’d ponder them later, when her husband wasn’t as close to her as it was possible to be.

He groped her breasts roughly, his thrusts becoming shorter and harder. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, fuck, gonna- fuck, Amy-“

She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but she very much wanted him to show her.

Then Laurie groaned into the crook of her neck, and she was briefly concerned because it sounded almost like he was in pain, but he was still clutching at her tightly, as if he were afraid to let go of her, and she felt a warmth fill her. His thrusts slowed and stopped, and he breathed heavily against her skin.

They stayed like that for several minutes until he pulled out of her with a wince on both their parts, kissing her softly as he did so.

He cleaned her with a damp cloth and more gentle kisses; to her lips, cheeks, shoulders, breasts. stomach, legs, hips- anywhere he could reach. Then he climbed back into bed with her, and they exchanged more kisses for awhile, some more heated than others.

When they were relaxing, her head on his chest (neither of them had any desire for clothes), he broke the silence with, “Amy?”

“Mm?” she hummed in response, nearing sleep.

“How much of that was… you know, real?”

Lifting her head up to examine his face, she blinked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Do you actually want a baby?” he asked. “Now, or… at all?”

Amy kissed him with a sleepy smile. “Of course I do, Mr. Laurence. Can’t be leaving my beloved husband without an heir, now can I?”

Grinning, he said, “you know that doesn’t matter to your husband, Mrs. Laurence.”

“I know,“ she told him with a laugh, placing her hand on his chest palm-down and resting her chin on it as she gazed at him lovingly. “But I do truly want a child with you.”

“Several, preferably,” he told her quite seriously.

Amy laughed again and kissed him. “If the Queen can have a whole brood, I don’t see why we can’t do the same,” she agreed. “But for now, I think just one is probably best.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Very well,” he agreed, sounding very reluctant indeed.

————

They never bothered to sleep with clothes on. It would’ve been most impractical, actually; it was far easier to only strip out of one’s clothes once rather than multiple times.

Although they did develop a keen interest in undressing each other. Amy was quite convinced she could watch her husband undress all day and not get bored of it. In fact, there were numerous occasions when one would remove their clothing and the other would watch.

They didn't have quite as many children as the Queen, although they did manage to have six, after which they’d decided to stop. Or rather, Amy decided to stop. Laurie would’ve preferred to keep going, wanting to best the Queen, but Amy had insisted that three boys and three girls was the perfect number, and that she’d run out of names anyway.

To be fair to Laurie, however, he really enjoyed seeing Amy pregnant. Which was lucky for him, because she spent four and a half years of their sixty-three year marriage pregnant. He also was rather fond of the process of getting her pregnant, so there was that, too.

Of course, if one believes in such things, perhaps their marriage didn’t end with death at all. Perhaps it was only postponed for a few months before Amy decided she’d spent seventy-one years of her life loving Laurie, had absolutely no desire to continue on without him, and had simply said goodnight to her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, gone upstairs to bed, and not come back down the following morning.

Perhaps when she saw him again, exactly as he’d looked the day she’d married him, she’d yelled at him for dying first, kissed him, and then continued yelling at him. Perhaps then they went on their way, to do whatever it is people in love do when their time on earth is done.

#my writing #fanfiction #amylaurie #amy x laurie fanfiction #amy x laurie #amy march #theodore laurence #little women fanfiction #little women #fanfic

[iffeelscouldkill]

TSCOSI Week Day 3: Sana / Leadership

A/N: ssshhhhhhh yes I know it’s late but ssssshhhhh let’s just pretend I’m posting this 5/6 days ago

Here, finally, is my fic for Day 3 of TSCOSI Week, on the theme of Sana / Leadership! This takes place in an ambiguous point in Late Season 2. It does not have any bearing on the episode that was released today, which I haven’t even listened to yet, because I was busy trying to finish off this fic 😂😭 Energy and motivation have not been on my side lately. But here we are!

I had two ideas I could have gone with for this day’s prompt, and of course I chose the one I knew would lead to a longer fic, but it was worth it. This type of TSCOSI fic is my favourite to write - pure Rumor/Iris crew fluff and shenanigans. So enjoy!

---

The first clue Sana had that something was amiss was when she woke up.

Rather than waking to the vibration of her comm against her ear (yes, her comm had an alarm function and yes, she slept with it in in case of emergencies. She would not be taking questions at this time), she came to naturally, which she hadn’t done in months. Sana smiled to herself, stretching – and then froze.

She never woke up naturally, and the few times that she did wake during the night she didn’t feel this pleasantly well-rested. What time was it?

“Computer?” Sana spoke aloud to ELLA. “Current on-ship time?”

“The current on-ship time – is – nine – forty-three AM,” ELLA’s voice intoned. Sana sat bolt upright in her bed.

That wasn’t right. There was no way she’d slept through her alarm, and she had it set to recur at the same time every morning. Which meant…

“Sana Tripathi to all crew,” Sana said, opening up a comm line to all of her crewmates’ devices. “Hey, guys. Would someone mind telling me why my alarm didn’t go off this morning?”

“It didn’t go off because I deprogrammed it when I poured you into bed last night at some ungodly hour,” came the reply in Arkady’s deadpan tones, and Sana cringed slightly, regretting opening up a line to the whole crew. “Also, I’ve said this before, but sleeping with your comm in your ear? Pretty unhealthy, and that’s coming from me.”

“Thank you for that feedback, Arkady,” said Sana, with all the dry sarcasm she could muster.

“Prolonged comm usage, even when the comm is idle, has also been known to lead to hearing damage in a small percentage of cases,” put in RJ, and Sana’s eyebrows rose. “Something to do with a low level of uh, high-frequency feedback? So as a best practice, you should really take it out before bed.”

“RJ, are you lecturing me right now?” Sana asked, halfway between deeply amused and indignant.

“Uhhhh- n-no Ma’am! I mean, uh- no, Captain.”

“They’re right, you know,” Violet put in next. “I mean, it really is a small percentage of cases, but as your medic I have to advise you not to leave your comm device in for prolonged periods. Also, that sounds – uncomfortable? For sleeping?”

Sana sighed, resigning herself to being ganged up on by her entire crew. “Duly noted, Violet. Getting back to the subject at hand-”

“Wow, human ears are so fragile!” This, of course, was Krejjh. “They can really be damaged by comm feedback?”

“For a prolonged enough period-” RJ began to explain.

“We don’t all have your ‘superior alien senses’, dude,” put in Brian, laughing. Sana put a hand to her head.

“Guys-”

“I deprogrammed your alarm because you need a break, Captain,” Arkady cut in, almost gently. “Don’t think we didn’t notice that you’ve been pulling extra shifts so that the rest of us could take breaks, while not taking any yourself.”

“The human body is at its best when given time to rest and recover,” Violet added, also gently. “And you’re human too, Captain.”

Sana could feel her face flaming, but she was also extremely touched by the concern the crew were showing her – even though they’d apparently ganged up on her in the process.

“All right, I can admit that the lie-in was appreciated,” she said. “Thank you for the thought, everyone. Krejjh, I’m coming to relieve you in-”

“Oh, no need, Cap’n,” Krejjh interrupted cheerfully. “Crewman Park is taking your shift! He’s relieving me in ten minutes, and then Crewman Jeeter and I are going to play cards.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Sana said, beginning to feel slightly alarmed. “Park, I’m coming up to the cockpit in-”

“Sorry, Captain, but I think you’ve been outnumbered,” Park said, as mildly as ever. “Also, Krejjh promised me fruit jerky in exchange for taking the next shift, and I’m not about to give that up.”

Sana stared at the wall, running a hand over her face. “Park, you hate fruit jerky.”

“This is special fruit jerky,” Park replied, deadly serious. “The really good kind. Enjoy your time off.”

“There must be something I can do,” said Sana, realising she sounded slightly desperate.

“Uh, you can join me and Krejjh for a game of cards in ten minutes?” Brian suggested.

“Or you can relax, Captain,” Violet said, still in that gently amused tone. “It’s for one day. We promise you’ll be back to keeping us all in line tomorrow.”

The whole day?! Sana exclaimed internally. And okay, maybe the way that she balked at the idea of a day of enforced rest said something about the habits she’d fallen into.

She could at least give it a try. The crew had obviously put some thought into this – and it didn’t seem like they were backing down any time soon.

“Maybe I could use a breather,” she admitted aloud, and pretended not to hear someone’s sigh of relief over the comms. “But if any of you need anything…”

“We’ll let you know, Captain,” Arkady promised her, sounding not in the slightest bit sincere. Sana sighed.

“Okay. Sana Tripathi out.”

Or maybe by the afternoon her crewmates would let up, and she could go back to doing something useful.

---

Sana spent the next ten minutes or so trying and failing to relax with an audiobook, one of a handful she’d downloaded off the public net for sleepless nights. It just felt wrong to be lying on her bed doing nothing during the day. Normally she cherished her moments of downtime when she could get them (and okay, they’d been few and far between lately), but this felt… too much. Surely she should be somewhere else, maybe off discussing their next destination with Krejjh after they managed to resupply on Hathor, going over the new truck with Arkady to check it was outfitted to their needs, or maybe putting her head together with Park and RJ to get their analysis of the latest information about Regime movements.

And sure, they didn’t have any immediate jobs for Boss Violet that needed doing, and it was far enough to Hathor that planning their next destination could probably wait a day or two. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t needed. Even when Sana was off-shift, she tended to linger around the crew areas, just keeping an eye out; watching for signs of exhaustion among her crewmates, making sure they weren’t hiding injuries or strain. Injecting a cheery comment here or a calming word there, to keep people’s spirits up.

She was the Captain, and it was her job to look out for her crew. It had been a tough past few weeks, and Sana didn’t want to take this current peace for granted.

Sighing, Sana shut off the audiobook recording and went to the mess hall. Krejjh and Brian were sat at one of the tables, playing a rousing game of something that Krejjh dubbed ‘Reverse Snap’, where the object was to call out when you turned over two cards that were ‘spiritual opposites’. Unsurprisingly, Krejjh had been the one to devise the system of ‘spiritual opposites’, and was therefore given the power to decide whether a play was valid or not, a power that they abused liberally. Brian never seemed to mind; Sana suspected the enjoyment for him was in watching his fiancé get caught up in the game, and laughing at their ridiculous justifications for why they should be allowed to win each round.

Sana declined to get involved in the action herself, but it was a nice change of pace to just sit and spend time with two of her crewmates, without any other purpose beyond having fun. It was true that she didn’t get to do this often enough.

Unfortunately, the game came to a halt after Krejjh lost three consecutive rounds and poutingly declared that Brian must be cheating, even though he’d been faithfully citing their own rules each time he won a hand. “This is boring. Let’s go snuggle in our room and listen to RIFT!” they said.

Brian just smiled and gathered up the cards. “Okay,” he agreed easily. “How’re you feeling, Captain? More relaxed?”

Sana smiled wryly. “I do take downtime, you know. Despite what everyone seems to think.”

“Captain, you sleep with your comm in your ear,” Brian pointed out, mild and easy-going, but unerringly right, as always.

“I wish everyone would stop fixating on that,” Sana grumbled. Brian laughed.

“Look, this whole ‘enforced day off’ thing wasn’t my idea, but I am on board with the concept,” he said. Sana thought about asking him whose idea it had been, but she supposed it didn’t matter. “You deserve to have a break from looking after us all the time, you know? It was the least we could give you.”

Sana sat back in her chair, a little taken aback. She hadn’t been thinking about it in that way – that this was a joint effort by the crew to do something nice for her, to gift her with a day to herself. She’d been so caught up in chafing at the enforced idleness. But they’d all obviously pitched in on this, making sure that her shifts were covered and that everything was taken care of.

“Honestly, being Captain of this crew? It’s no hardship,” she told Brian – and Krejjh, who was hovering by the table – honestly. “But… thank you. It’s an incredibly sweet thought, and I do appreciate it.”

Brian smiled again. “It’s really nothing,” he told her. “See you later, Captain.”

Krejjh gave her a parting salute. “Enjoy your morning, Cap’n Tripathi!” they chirped, and then bounded after Brian.

Which left Sana with some food for thought, but still nothing to do. The mess, for now, was deserted, everyone evidently occupied with their own work or rest. Should she go back to her room, or try to find something to do around the ship? She wondered whether fixing things up and doing handiwork around the ship would be classed as ‘working’ in the eyes of the crew. Sadly, it probably would.

Resigned to giving her audiobook another try, Sana got up from the table and made her way along the corridor to her room. Passing by the medbay, she noticed that the light by the door was green, which meant that it was open, and she could movement from inside. She knocked, wondering if Violet would want a hand – or some company.

“Come in,” Violet called, and Sana pressed the button to open the door and stepped inside. Violet was inside, surrounded by rows and groups of orderly supplies - evidently doing that full inventory she’d been planning. She didn’t look surprised to see Sana.

“Can I… help with anything?” Sana asked. Violet gave her a wry smile.

“I don’t have a dictionary on me, but I’m pretty sure this wouldn’t come under the definition of “relaxation”,” she teased. Sana put her hands up.

“All right, granted. I can just keep you company for a while, then? Unless you prefer to work in silence.”

“Company is welcomed, Captain,” Violet told her. “And actually, there is something I could use a hand with.”

Sana was about to ask what it was, when she followed Violet’s gaze up to a high shelf full of supplies that she’d evidently been unable to clear. “Oh! Sure, I can help with that,” she said, trying not to seem too outwardly pleased at the opportunity to do something. Judging by Violet’s expression, she probably hadn’t succeeded. “Do you want them all down?”

“Yes, please, Captain.”

Sana got to work lifting boxes of what appeared to be empty syringes and some basic first aid supplies – bandages, gauze, cooling packs – down off the shelf and handing them to Violet, who made a noise of satisfaction when she saw what they contained. “So, how’s the overall situation with our med supplies?” Sana asked her. “Anything we need to restock?”

Violet gave her a sidelong glance, and Sana huffed. “If you want me to just turn off the part of my brain that’s concerned about the well-being of this ship, I’ve got some bad news for you.”

Violet laughed a little. “Okay, fair. We’re pretty well-off for med supplies, though I’d like it if we could get some more heptocaldrin – for injuries, not as a… stealth weapon.”

“Can’t it be both?” Sana joked. “I’ll put some feelers out with contacts who have connections with medical suppliers, see if we can get hold of some. – After today,” she added hastily at Violet’s raised eyebrow.

“Thank you,” Violet said, smiling serenely. “Are you planning to stay and watch me sort these?”

“Well, since I have so much leisure time at my disposal today,” Sana said lightly. “Can I sit here?” She gestured to the recliner that sat in the corner, the spiritual successor to the much-loved beanbag chair.

For the first few minutes, neither of them said anything much. It was quite soothing watching Violet work, although Sana itched to actually get involved and help her. She couldn’t help taking note of the condition of the medical supplies as Violet sorted them and made notes on her checklist, thinking about where they could find better-quality suppliers.

“Can I ask you something, Captain?” Violet said. Sana felt almost like she’d been caught out, though Violet’s tone was casual, almost idle; she hadn’t looked up from her work, still methodically sorting supplies.

“Of course,” Sana said.

“You’re always making sure that the six of us clock off and get enough rest. Why don’t you ever do the same for yourself?”

In hindsight, Sana should have known this question was coming. Before today, she likely would have given it a chipper, joking answer (like she did when Violet asked her, a few weeks after their flight from New Jupiter, how long she had been on shift), but now she made herself give the question some proper consideration.

“It’s different when you’re the one in charge,” she said after a little while. “If something goes wrong, if there’s an eventuality that I’ve overlooked, that’s on me. And given our current – status – the consequences of that could be much worse than me going without a break, or a couple hours of sleep.”

Violet gave her a sad smile. “But those are important things. I know it’s easy for me to say, when I don’t have to feel the weight of that responsibility – I couldn’t do what you do. But you’re at your best when you’re well-rested, too. What happens if you overlook something because you’re underslept and you haven’t had a break in days?”

“Well, that’s what I keep you all well-rested for,” Sana said lightly.

“Captain,” Violet said reprovingly.

“Violet,” Sana replied in the same tone. Jokingly, she said, “Are you going to start singing at me to take a break next?”

Violet blinked confusedly at her before the light of understanding dawned in her eyes. “Was that a ‘Hamilton’ reference?”

“You spend enough time with Arkady, you find yourself making opera and musical theatre references without even knowing it,” Sana replied. “You’ll need to watch out for that.”

“I’ll be on my guard,” Violet said. And then, more seriously, “But if it turned out to be a reliable method, then yes, I would sing at you.”

Sana couldn’t help laughing. “Well, luckily, there’s no need. Here I am, taking a break.”

“Uh huh,” was all Violet said, giving her an appropriately sceptical look.

“I am!”

“And if I asked you for your opinion on the overall quality of our med supplies, I’m sure you wouldn’t have any thoughts at all,” Violet said pointedly.

“Well, you can ask,” Sana replied. “But I’d have to tell you that the Captain will get back to you about that tomorrow, when she’s back on the clock.”

“Oh, good to know.”

 ---

Spending time with Violet in the medbay took up another hour, but before long Sana found herself back in her room and at a loose end again. And okay, maybe she was going about this wrong; she shouldn’t just be looking for ways to kill time all day. Plus, spending time with the crew was nice, but they were all busy with their own jobs, so that didn’t really equate to relaxation. There had to be something she could do by herself – other than listening to that audiobook.

On the Rumor, Sana had spent a lot of her downtime in her room working on sewing or embroidery projects. But lately, she hadn’t really had a project that she could – wait.

Sana sat up straighter on her bed, thinking. When they’d been putting together the ‘shopping list’ of supplies for Hypatia, she’d joked about adding a hammock to the list. She hadn’t seriously gone looking for one, but when she’d been checking out some of the hardware stores near where they made landing, looking for parts for the engine and the ship’s various systems, she’d discovered that they also sold swathes of fabric, rope, and – crucially – wooden poles.

Sana got up and went to the little closet built into the wall of her room. At the back, right where she’d left it, was a bundle of poles and rope with brightly-coloured fabric wrapped around it. Sana pulled out the bundle, breaking into a grin. She hadn’t really expected to find enough time to work on this when she’d bought the materials, though she’d vaguely intended to do a bit here and there. But now was the perfect time to try and put it together.

Sana unrolled the bundle on her floor and got to work.

---

“Incoming call from… Ignatius Campbell. Incoming call from… Ignatius Campbell. Incoming…”

Sana was in the middle of sewing the wooden poles into either end of her hammock fabric when the call came through to her comm link. “Computer, accept call. Campbell, hi!”

“Captain Tripathi!” Campbell’s voice boomed cheerily. “Is this a bad time?”

“It’s a pretty good time, actually,” Sana said as she worked the needle in and out of the fabric. “I’ve got the day off today, so I’m just doing some sewing in my room.”

There was a fractional pause on Campbell’s end. “The day off, huh?” he said. “How’s that going? Not too bored, I hope?”

Sana smiled to herself as she tied a knot in the sewing thread to secure it and then bit off the thread. She had scissors, but they were buried somewhere in the heap of fabric and she couldn’t be bothered to root around for them. “It was a bit slow to start off with, but I’m getting into it now.”

“Gotta say, I can’t believe they actually managed to persuade you to take a whole day out of your schedule to relax,” Campbell said. “The last time I called, you hadn’t slept in – was it thirty-six hours?”

“Thirty-two,” Sana said quietly, to herself.

“-And you were on your sixth cup of coffee – do you even remember that call?”

Sana sighed, part amusement and part resignation. “Yes, I do remember. Sorry for-”

“No, no, it’s fine, I was just – well, it was a bit worrying,” Campbell said. “Anyway, glad you’re taking a break. You sound… better.”

Who knew that everyone had apparently been so concerned for her wellbeing? Sana thought. Then her hand stilled in the middle of threading her needle. Maybe she should have realised how concerning it was to everyone. But she hadn’t thought – well, she guessed she hadn’t noticed that everyone was looking out for her just as much as she’d been trying to look out for them.

She cleared her throat a little. “Well, what can I do for you, Campbell?”

“Oh, nothing in particular,” Campbell replied. “Just wanted to call to catch up, really. Trade some gossip, funny stories about the crew… It’s been a while since you were able to stop by.”

Sana smiled ruefully, and then a thought occurred to her. “So, you just so happened to call to catch up on the one day when I don’t have anything going on? That’s good timing.”

“Uh—” Campbell’s cornered response was immediately telling. “I might’ve heard that – today would be a good time to call—”

Sana huffed in amusement again, rolling the fabric over the pole at the other end of her hammock and lining up the ends of the material. “Be honest, Campbell. Did the crew ask you to check up on me?”

“I called the ship’s comms last night, and Arkady picked up,” Campbell admitted. “I really was calling just to see how you all were, and well, she filled me in on how things had been lately. How they were all planning to cover your shifts and chores today to give you a break. She said that you might be at a loose end, so I offered to call you back around this time. I would’ve called earlier, but Eloise asked me to watch the boys in the morning.”

“How are they?” Sana asked, smiling.

“Oh, as full of energy as ever, I can barely keep up with them,” Campbell said, a smile in his own voice. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped-”

“No, it’s – fine, Campbell. Really,” Sana assured him. “I’m touched at how everyone’s been…” She searched for the right phrasing. “I’m touched at how much thought went into this. It really means a lot.”

“What you do means a lot,” Campbell responded, sincere. “To the whole crew. And to… me.”

Sana’s face warmed, and she realised she’d been sitting there, holding the fabric together without doing anything for the past several minutes. She picked up her needle and began on the same neat row of stitches that she’d made at the opposite end. “Thank you, Campbell.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Campbell replied gruffly, and then cleared his throat. “So – any good stories to share?”

“I’ll make you a trade,” Sana offered. “One story about the crew, for every story about your nephews.”

“Oof. You drive a hard bargain, Captain Tripathi, but I accept.”

Sana laughed. “Okay. Well. You might remember how Arkady has an unfortunate habit of leaving some of her weapons holsters in odd places around the ship…”

---

A few hours later, the new hammock – strung up in a corner of the mess where Sana had mounted some sturdy hooks on two adjacent walls – was almost ready. All it needed was a test subject; Sana could of course get in and test it herself, but it would be ideal if she could observe someone else getting into the hammock, so that she could judge how things looked from the outside.

Oddly, the mess hall was deserted, and had been for the past while, which was strange; she would have expected to find at least one or two members of the crew spending time in here. Just then, she spotted RJ, who had entered on the far side of the room and frozen.

“RJ!” she said happily. “You’re the perfect person to test out my new hammock.”

“Uh-” RJ looked around, as if hoping to be rescued by someone, before reluctantly walking over. “You’ve been making a… hammock?”

Sana gestured towards her creation with a flourish. “What do you think?”

RJ’s eyes narrowed as they inspected her handiwork, pulling lightly on the ropes that suspended the hammock. “Is it structurally sound?” they asked doubtfully.

“Why don’t you get in and test it for yourself?” Sana invited them. “Don’t worry about the hooks – they’re the same kind that you find on industrial pulleys. They’ll hold.”

RJ’s eyes flicked towards the doorway. “I’m not really sure if I should be-”

“Oh c’mon, you can take three minutes out of your shift, can’t you?” Sana cajoled them. “Just blame it on me waylaying you.”

RJ laughed a little. “Well – I guess if it’ll only take a minute…” Gingerly, they hoisted themself up onto the hammock, legs dangling over the side, before swivelling round and reclining more fully in the hammock. “Wow, this is actually – really comfortable.”

“Isn’t it? Hammocks are the best,” Sana enthused. “Is the amount of rocking okay?”

“Yeah, it seems fine. It’s not making me seasick, at least,” RJ joked. “You’ve done a pretty good job with the placement of-”

“RJ, there you are,” Park’s voice came from the other side of the mess. “Did you- oh, hi, Captain.”

“Hey, Park,” Sana said easily as Park approached, eyeing the hammock with curiosity. In the hammock, RJ sat back up, a guilty expression on their face. “RJ was being good enough to help me test out this hammock I’ve been making.”

“So I can see,” Park said, neutrally. “Seems like a good use of your time off.”

Sana raised an eyebrow at him, unsure whether the comment was sincere or impeccable sarcasm, but deciding to interpret it as sincere. “Thank you,” she said. “Want to test it out? It would be good to get data from someone taller.”

“I’d love to help, but I really need to borrow RJ,” Park said apologetically. “Sorry, Captain. Maybe after dinner?”

“Of course,” Sana said, as RJ quickly got out of the hammock. She watched Park take their arm and almost steer them away, the two of them conversing in hushed whispers once they were far enough away that they evidently thought she wouldn’t overhear.

Something odd was going on. Sana glanced at the hammock, and then back at the doorway that Park and RJ had just left through. Maybe she should leave it alone – after all, she was off the clock, and she didn’t have to know about everything that was going on on the ship.

Even though Park and RJ were behaving really strangely.

After a few seconds, Sana’s curiosity got the better of her, and she quietly followed.

“Well, I can’t go back through now,” RJ was saying to Park in slightly annoyed tones, as they walked down the corridor. “The Captain will definitely know something’s up. Anyway, I don’t remember seeing a screwdriver in the kitchen.”

A screwdriver? Sana thought, baffled.

“Well, Arkady says there are none in the engine room, and there’s not many other places on the ship left to check,” Park said tiredly. “So, if you’d like to tell her that you weren’t able to look in the kitchen…”

RJ made a reluctant noise. “Fine, what if we-”

Sana, from her vantage point around the corner, saw the two pause in front of the door that led to the medbay. Park raised his hand and knocked on the door in a specific pattern – one long, and three short knocks. After a second, the same knock came back and the door opened.

“Bad news,” Park said as the two entered the medbay. “Sana was in the mess, so RJ wasn’t able to check the kitchen properly.”

Sana moved around the corner until the open door of the medbay was in view, where a baffling sight (and this was coming from someone who’d seen a lot of weird things in her time) greeted her. The medbay observation table had been dragged into the middle of the room, and an array of screwdrivers, knives, and for some reason, spoons cluttered the tabletop. Arkady, looking irritated, was standing on top of the table with a knife in her hand, trying to pry at the cover that enclosed the medbay’s ceiling lamp. Violet, Brian and Krejjh were grouped around the table, looking up at what Arkady was doing; Violet was holding a penknife and shining a small torch in Arkady’s direction, while Krejjh was holding a small hammer, a steel rule and a lightbulb. Brian just looked entertained.

“I think we should check the engine room again,” RJ said. Arkady rolled her eyes.

“I told you, McCabe, I – Captain!”

Instantly, every crew member in the room (except Park, who simply looked resigned) whipped guiltily around, trying in vain to hide what they were doing. Krejjh dropped the steel rule.

“Cap’n Tripathi!” they said cheerily. “You are just in time for our – uh – table performance art routine! We’ve been practicing specially for you!”

“Really?” Sana asked, amused. “Because it looks to me like you were all trying to change a lightbulb. Badly.”

“As it so happens, Act One of our performance-”

“Krejjh, give it a rest,” Arkady said, as Brian laughed behind his hand. “Captain, we’re fine, honestly. We found the replacement bulb, we just need to figure out how to get this damn cover off.”

“And how long have you spent trying to pry it off, so far?” Sana asked.

“It’s been about an hour and a half,” Violet admitted. Arkady’s shoulders slumped.

“I’m almost there, but I think I need a different screwdriver to-”

She stopped as Sana walked over to the table, and held out a hand for Arkady to pull her up. Climbing onto the table, with the help of a steadying hand from Park, Sana took a magnet out of her pocket (she had a lot of things in her pockets) and held it near the rim of the ceiling lamp cover. A tiny screw flew out and clung onto the magnet. Sana held the magnet to the other side of the cover, attracting another screw, and then another, and another. Finally, she twisted the cover, and it popped off the ceiling.

“Lightbulb,” she said.

Krejjh handed her up the lightbulb, and Sana switched the working bulb out for the dead one, before easily replacing the cover and pushing the screws back into place. She dusted her hands and looked around at the crew.

“Well, that was fun. What’s Act Two?”

Violet smiled, and RJ looked impressed, while Brian shook his head. “I told you we should have just asked her.”

Sana looked back at Arkady, who was glowering at the knife she’d been holding like it had personally offended her.

“You could have asked me,” she agreed. “But I get that you were trying not to disturb me after you worked so hard to give me some time off. And, honestly, it’s been one of the best days I can remember for a while. So – thank you all. So much. I know that being the Captain doesn’t make me invincible. Or infallible. And as much as I want to look out for all of you, I need to remember to apply the same thought process to myself as well.” She caught Violet’s eye, and winked.

“In hindsight, it probably shouldn’t have taken a day of forced rest for me to see that, but I’m grateful that you were all willing to go to the trouble of arranging it so that I could. Even to the point of changing lightbulbs.” She smiled.

“And while you’ve all been working hard, I’ve rigged up a pretty awesome hammock in the mess hall, so it would frankly be a crime not to hold a movie night after dinner.”

Krejjh whooped, and Brian and RJ immediately struck up a fierce debate about whether they should watch a historical fantasy drama or a sci-fi epic. Park tiredly followed them out of the room, presumably to act as adult supervision.

“I’d better go make sure that they don’t forget about dinner,” Violet said, and went after them.

Arkady climbed down so that she was sitting on the edge of the table, and after making a space in the collection of cutlery and engineering tools, Sana joined her. For a few moments, neither of them said anything.

“I meant what I said just now,” Sana said, eventually. “I had a really good day, and… it meant a lot that everyone would go to the trouble of doing something like that for me. And of thinking it up and arranging it.”

“Violet did a lot of it,” Arkady said, a little too quickly. “And Park, especially with covering your shifts. And the comm thing was Krejjh’s idea.”

“Really?” asked Sana, amused. “And what about intercepting the call from Campbell that came in last night, making sure it didn’t disturb me, and then arranging for him to call back when you knew I might be going a bit stir-crazy?”

Arkady huffed. “He told you.”

“Of course he did,” Sana said. “Look, I’m sure it was a group effort, but… I couldn’t help thinking that the idea had to have come from someone who knew me pretty well. And maybe someone who’s been more worried about me lately than they wanted to admit.”

Arkady looked away, her shoulders raised in a defensive half-shrug. “I know you’re the Captain. I know you’ve got to look out for us, and – it’s not like I can really talk when it comes to putting in too many hours when I work on something. I don’t think there’s anyone in the crew who hasn’t done that at some point. But you’re always there to kick our asses into taking a break, and-”

“And someone needed to do that for me?” Sana finished for her, wryly.

Arkady looked back at her and snorted. “Pretty much. Thirty-two hours, Sana. With six cups of coffee.”

Sana winced. “In hindsight, that was probably the first red flag.”

“The first?”

“Okay, okay,” Sana said, laughing a little and holding up her hands. “You have my word that I will not let things get to that point again. And if they do, you have my full permission to-”

“-Kick your ass?”

“I was going to say, ‘put me in time-out in my own hammock’, but either works.”

“Speaking of which,” said Arkady, giving Sana a significant look. “Do I need to ask which part of the ship lost its emergency harnesses?”

Sana laughed. “This one is made from actual wood and fabric and rope. Turns out, I had a lot of time on my hands this afternoon…”

“And you used it to build another hammock.”

“It was that, or listen to a really dull audiobook,” Sana said. “I call it an investment in future relaxation! And future movie nights. Good for the whole crew.”

One half of Arkady’s mouth ticked up, and she looked almost wistful. “We haven’t had a movie night since we were on the Rumor.”

“I want to reinstate the tradition,” Sana said. “I think we could all use a bit of a breather every now and again. Today reminded me of that. So – thank you, Kady.”

She was purposely laying it on thick, because winding up your best friend with excessive sentiments that you meant every word of really never got old. She was rewarded when Arkady quickly jumped down from the table. “I think we’ve already done the Feelings Corner for this evening, so if you need me, I’ll just be in the kitchen, helping with dinner.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to hear the latest motivational speech I’ve been working on?” Sana teased her. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it today. It’s a good one.”

“You know what, I’ve changed my mind,” Arkady said. “You’re not allowed to have days off any more.”

---

A/N: This idea came about as a bit of an inversion of the ‘leadership’ prompt - what if Sana couldn’t be in charge for the day? What would it look like if the crew decided she needed to take some time off? I was really taken with the concept (apparently I just have a thing for members of the crew gently but insistently taking care of Sana), and then I came up with the idea that something goes wrong that Sana would normally be able to fix, and the crew is desperately trying to keep it from Sana while she’s “off-duty”. This image popped into my head of like, the entire crew trying and failing to change a lightbulb, and it was so absurdly perfect that I had to write it xD

It also wound up being a spiritual continuation of the theme we’ve had so far in Season 2 of “Sana is bad at clocking off” - hopefully nothing in Episode 3 has come along and contradicted that xD (Guess I’ll find out!)

#Sana Tripathi #Arkady Patel #Violet Liu #Krejjh #Brian Jeeter #Jin Seon Park #RJ McCabe #TSCOSI #TSCOSI Week #ficlet #Starship Iris season 2 #Starship Iris spoilers #man this did not want to end though #5.8k!!! how