#''I know now the span of my life. God help me''

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

Warnings: Language, slight smut, touching, body-issues, reader has insecurities over big chest, ass slapping, oral sex (f receiving), self-esteem, mentions slight panic and anxiety, mirror play, and NSFW.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Plus size Reader

Wordcount: 1,945

A/N: I’ve had a lot of negative comments from people/my family about my weight lately, so… This is self-indulgent. I need Eddie to make me and my body type feel appreciated.

Buying lingerie to show Eddie and he’s honored that someone dresssd up for him.

You had fumbled with the bags all day, caught between regretting your decision and ready to take it on. Eddie wasn’t like other guys… other people, really. It wasn’t that you feared what he would do, no. It was the humiliating dread of him being nice to spare your feelings, the worst possible outcome equaling out to disgust at your surprise. But you had pushed it aside, freshened in your shower, applied a different makeup look to frame your features, then slipped an old parka on over the black lace.

You’d forgone heels and kept your boots on, those easy to take off once you had arrived at the trailer, your giddy boyfriend greeting you like he’s never seen you a day in his life. With the air conditioner properly placed in the trailer, Eddie’s hair was down, curled around his shoulders, a simple white tank top and black cut off sweat shorts over his trim form. He’s always beautiful to you. The amused smirk on his face did not go unnoticed, however, upon taking in your parka in this sweltering Indiana heat (even at night). It was an automatic “it’s cooler in my room, if you wanna?” offer, with him grabbing two bottles of coke from his fridge on the way.

Time to do this thing…

~*~

When he pushes his door open, the coolness that carries his Old Spice, nicotine soaked scent, it hits you square in the face. You relax a little, already sliding your fingers into your jacket buttons, popping them open and working the zipper. His back is to you as clears some space on his dresser, going on about why you’re wearing a coat, if you’re okay, what is it about. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, an anxious reaction, and you’re shoving the coat off your shoulders, exposed skin immediately stimulated with the prickles of electrifying goosebumps. And Eddie, god love him, he isn’t at all prepared for what he sees when your voice hooks into his attention span and gets him to turn around.

“Eddie?”

Initially, you take his shocked look as something bad. His widened eyes and slack jaw, the way he runs his fingers and tugs at his own roots. You feel an immature burn of familiar tears, reaching to pick up the coat and apologize. His voice leaves zero room for that energy in here.

“No, baby. No, sweetheart.” Layering on pet names to help soothe you, he calms the panicked nerves he can see escalating.

Though his own heart rate is out of control, his tongue’s tip on fire, touching his cheek, sweats suddenly tighter. You are his personal goddess on the daily — something he never expected, nor looked for. And you did this for him? The devil freak gets something special from an Angel like you? Temporarily halting your actions, you do notice the way his eyes expand into the depths of midnight black, how he reaches to adjust himself in his sweats - it keeps you here.

He reaches for you with that outstretched, tattooed arm. “Baby? Let me in. Let me see? I’m just not used to this…” He rushes to correct his phrasing, already knowing what it could do to you. “I mean, I’m not used to a hot fuckin’ woman getting dressed up for a guy like me, y’know? Takes a minute to sink in. And honestly? I’m waiting for Wayne to wake me up right now.”

It all clicks for you. It isn’t just about your insecurities, but this also giving something special to someone who also struggles to see confidence and self-worth. You’ve never been more proud of yourself than in this moment, overcoming your fears to get Eddie Munson this excited? You take his hand with a soft smile, albeit, still shy as he brings you around to pinch your chin between his fingertips, leaning in to press a kiss to your nose’s tip. His voice is gravelly, soaked in heat. Eddie’s mouth ghosts across your own, barely touching as he asks, “Permission to touch?”

You give into him, hand still in his, the other raising to hold onto the warmth of his shoulder, twirling his curls into your grasp to ease some nerves. His eyes immediately widen as he truly gets to look you over. Overflowing thighs in a beautiful thong, your thick curls peeking out of the sides, your beautiful legs — clad in silk sheer stockings, lace trimmed to meet, your stretch marks, your scars, the way, in which, you carry your plush stomach, to your full breasts that spill over the cups, and even your makeup — different, darker, more smoldering. He tips the digits of his spare hand, rings clinking together as he tickles his way up your forearm, tracing the vein back down, until he’s tapping on your pulse point inside of your wrist. Hands join, his grip shifting you into a twist, with your back pressed against his chest, and how badly he wants you nudging at your bare ass cheek.

You bow your head from immediate reflection in the mirror — something your boyfriend has yet to see. He’s too busy watching the way your ass swallows that thin black strap, this set showcasing all the indents that cascade down your thighs. And even your boots, he loves that you kept it you, that you didn’t force yourself into heels. You don’t like them, he knows this. He lets his fingers path their way along your spine, rubbing across the clasp on your bra, pausing to ask once more, now quite aware that you’re looking awkwardly at his messy floor.

“Sweetheart? You okay up there?” It’s silent for a beats, but then you’re mentioning his mirror.

He fights back a sigh, because how can you not see how perfect you look — without or without all of this. He wants to keep your comfort in mind, but it’s also important that he helps you see how fucking gorgeous you are. So he shakes his head, his curls tickling your shoulder blades.

“I don’t think so.”

You object, stopping yourself when his voice pleads into a softness that you’ve never heard from him before.

“I want to try somethin’. And if you don’t like it, we move away from the mirror, kay? Zero pressure, all your call.”

You have to admit that you’re intrigued, and excitement bubbling beneath your breastbone, dumping molten lava over your flesh. Eddie can see you inhale sharply through the mirror. He does that downward nod, brow raised, and you’re nodding. He’s so giddy that his tongue pokes out in concentration, joined hands freed, one of his dipping backward in a journey to slide the back of his knuckles across your thong strap. You arch into his torso, watching him watch you.

There’s a primal confidence that stirs in your belly, twists inside of your gut, ultimately soaking you between your legs. And as he finds the clasp on your bra, getting it unhooked in one go, only for his hands to dance along your sides, hook underneath your armpits, and immediately begin to tease your areola in languid strokes — you lose it. He allows his chin to rest on your shoulder, his voice the cure for everything you’ve ever needed, or will desire. “Look at yourself. Don’t look at me, just watch yourself.”

Your gaze finds your own body, not even caring at the exposure of your breasts or how they hang (something you are trying to be okay with, you know), heart accelerating full speed ahead, sure that Eddie can feel it. It’s almost like his mimicking the way he runs his fingers across the body of his guitar — easy, languidly, making sure to dip and curve when necessary. He goes with your head tilt, his voice finding your earlobe, hot breath causing your nipples to harden. “This body, it’s like the shield of your secret world. One that only I’m allowed into…” He breaks apart his sentence to drop his hands over your navel, curling into that ticklish spot that has you shivering.

“Eddie…” You watch your lips part, tongue licking to smear your lipstick.

It seems as if you’re watching a private show, beautiful woman and her beautiful lover. You’re out of body, yet you have never been more present. Eddie, he can hardly think, his breaths falling over uneven pants, his cock so hard that his eyes could cross. He can’t stop touching you, won’t dare miss how your eyes have glossed over at the performance your body is giving you. He can cry within this moment, so grateful, so fuckin’ proud of you.

So he keeps going, saying what he feels in several organs. “Your body is a map and I get to explore it with these.” He wiggles his fingers against your tummy, letting them fall above your elastic waistband, before they dip inside. Holy Christ, you’re warm, and he hasn’t even touched you properly.

“With my lips.” His lips find the flesh of your neck, sucking the skin into his mouth — tasting your perspiration, your body wash… you.

He watches your legs spread on their own accord, beckoning him to take what he wants. His fingers brush through your soaking wet curls, a moan leaving his throat so deep that it echoes inside of his diaphragm. Fuck. You’re a mess. Both of you hold your breaths as his fingers glide along your seam, combing through your hair, making it even sloppier, cruder.

And the way you sound…

It is you who looks up first this time to catch the reflection, enchanted by the way his knuckles and the rings adorning take shape beneath your lace panties. He lets his remaining hand smack your ass, one cheek at a time, before it cups your breast to give a pinch. You’re shocked when he releases you to come around and briefly block your view. But he presses his sticky fingers to your mouth and you suck them in without question, enjoying your own taste (something you would barely try beforehand), and Eddie literally gasps, tugging you by a love handle in for a crushing kiss. By the time you part, you’ve left your lipstick stain on his fingers and his own mouth — your claim.

That’s when he licks his lips, dropping to his knees, giving you an entirely different view. He’s at your feet, tugging your panties down, a thick creamy web threaded from you to the crotch, making you swallow harshly. You balance on his shoulder to step out, left in just your boots and thigh high stockings. He rubs his hands along the material, squeezing, appreciating the flesh beneath. His brown irises are left to a simple ring, a murky abyss shadowing his sclera.

His does that thing with his mouth, the one that causes you to fold like a lawn chair. And then he’s speaking to you, using two fingers to noisily part your cunt. “You can even take my tongue captive inside of you, empress.”

Your hands drop, fisting into his curls immediately, as he wastes to time to give you one solid lick, gathering what he has to circle your opening, his tongue’s tip then pushing into you. He’s whining in little grunts, vibrating between your legs, in absolutely heaven on earth. You begin to ride over his face, hand in his curls, unrelenting, one finding your nipple to play with. You’re doing exactly as he’d hoped — watching yourself receive his worship. And this is something he will never let you forget.

[catacomb-rats]

Hey fellas, are we gonna talk about the “I know now the span of my life. God help me!” 

Imagine your killer looking you in the eye and telling your exactly when he’s going to kill you, as you both politely pretend you don’t know what’s happening. You’re just writing some letters. He’s just thinking ahead. You’re just staying in Transylvania for a little longer than expected. You’re going to die in 6 weeks and you and Dracula both know it.

That line hits me like a fuckin brick every single time. Poor Jonathan. God help him indeed. 

[wileys-russo]

Idea to add to the Date To Remember universe! Mary notices more and more of her clothes and training kits have been going missing, she confronts reader as reader has a habit of taking Mary's clothes. Turns out Delilah has been sneaking into their wardrobe and taking Mary's kits to dress like her mama.

part of the a date to remember series little squirrel II m.earps

"oh you are fucking joking me where is it?" mary groaned in frustration, rummaging through each one of her drawers and tossing things behind her, determined to find the one shirt she knew she'd seen only last week.

"baby what are you doing?" you caught the next shirt flung from her hand and frowned, your wife looking at you over her shoulder and scoffing.

"looking for my shirt that you've probably stolen!" the older girl accused with a huff, turning back to her search. "and which shirt would that be?" you questioned with a roll of your eyes, throwing the one in your hand back at her.

"the faded grey rolling stones one. i wanna wear it tonight with my leather pants to dinner with the girls but i can't find it!" mary groaned loudly as you smacked her.

"lilah's sleeping!" you hissed in warning, knowing if your daughter woke up any earlier than she was supposed to she wouldn't sleep tonight, having been tired out by going to breakfast with alessia this morning, the blonde claiming she was in need of some 'god daughter time'.

"its probably in the wash or in the wardrobe but throwing stuff around everywhere isn't going to help you find it any faster babe." you sighed with a shake of your head.

"well you find it then!" your wife demanded grumpily, moving to flop down onto the bed with her arms crossed. "fine, i'll look and you put the rest of this away." you nodded to the clothes scattered around the room.

"now mary." you added on seriously when the goalkeeper made no motion to move. "god you're bossy." your wife mumbled as you shot her a glare and she avoided your eyeline, hurrying to gather the clothing strung about.

"you're one to talk! should watch some games back and hear the way you yell and carry on." you scoffed, shifting through the basket of clean laundry on the chair in the corner. "hey! you said you found it hot when i yell on the pitch." mary huffed in defence.

"i do, but that doesn't mean its not bossy." you finally found the shirt she was after and tossed it at her with a raised eyebrow. "not this one!" mary groaned and threw it back as you sighed.

"mary its grey and its a rolling stones shirt. wear it and stop whinging!" you threw it back to her. "no! i want the charcoal grey distressed looking one, it completes the outfit babe." the taller girl shook her head stubbornly and threw the clean shirt into the pile she was making on your bed.

"then find a new outfit! you're being ridiculous." you laughed and turned back to the wardobe. "i am not." the english woman scoffed as she appeared beside you.

"beautiful girl, baby, love of my life, mother of my child. you know i adore when you wear my clothes, the way everything engulfs and hangs off you because you're fun sized-" the brunette started.

"mary!" you shoved her for the last comment about your height but it didn't phase her as she continued. "-and you've always had a habit of stealing them before we moved in together-" your wife span you around and settled her large hands on your shoulders.

"-but my love i would hope that now we share a closet, share a last name, share a house and share a child, that you no longer felt the need to hide from me my items of clothing you want to wear." mary sighed dramatically making you roll your eyes for what felt like the hundreth time today.

"i didn't you muppet!" you scoffed and pushed her hands off of you. "darling, i beg to differ." mary nodded for you to follow after her into the walk in wardrobe as you withheld the urge to groan.

"exhibit a; the missing kits." she gestured to the section of the wardrobe where her most favourite jerseys all hung, and you couldn't argue with her that indeed a few of them were missing, the empty hangers a dead giveaway.

"exhibit b; the stolen hoodies." mary moved on and pointed to where her hoodies normally were stacked up neatly folded, and you knew from putting away her laundry that normally they reached the top of the shelf.

motioning for you to again follow her she headed back toward the bed, moving around to your side and pulling up a few pillows. "exhibit c; the evidence!" mary shouted dramatically, gesturing her hand toward the large t-shirt bundled beneath the pillow.

"congratulations sherlock you found the shirt i wore to bed with you, last night." you shook your head unimpressed with her takeaway. "okay what about the hoodies and the kits? thief!" mary pointed her finger at you with a scowl.

"idiot!" you retorted in the same tone, pointing right back at her making her scoff. "i don't wash your old kits because they get wrecked in the dryer, remember the euros jersey?" you reminded as mary winced with a small nod.

"and i couldn't have worn six or seven jerseys to bed last night nor would i have worn a hoodie considering its the middle of summer mary. case closed, not a thief." you defended, crossing your arms over your chest.

"well i didn't move them. so what are you saying babe, we've been robbed?" mary mocked sarcastically as your eyes narrowed. though before you could snap anything back a new voice sung out and you exhaled.

"mummy! mummy! mama!" your wifes eyes widened at your daughters voice, knowing she wasn't supposed to be up for another two or ideally three hours. "nice one earps. if she doesn't sleep tonight, neither do you!" you warned menacingly before hurrying out of the room as your daughters cries continued.

"lilah! what are you doing?" you had to stop yourself from laughing at the sight in front of you, your three year old half dressed but sat on the floor with her favourite tutu around her ankles and her head stuck in the arm hole of very large t-shirt.

one that you instantly recognised.

"stuck!" was the only reply you got with a huff as you smiled and knelt down, gently grabbing her and twisting the top so she could push her head through the right hole.

"come on bubba, up we get." you sighed in amusement, pulling her carefully to her feet and helping her step through her tutu and pull it up properly.

"what are you doing awake hm? its nap time." you poked at her stomach making her giggle and throw her arms around you in a tight hug which made you melt into a puddle.

"not nap time mumma, dance time!" your daughter sighed as if you'd said the most unintelligent thing in the world, patting your shoulder as she pulled away. "no, dance is on tuesdays, wednesdays and fridays lilah, today is monday!" you smiled as she frowned.

"no dance?" "no dance baby, sorry."

"now, where did you get this from huh?" you tugged at the bottom of the charcoal grey rolling stones top your wife had been looking for earlier. "mine!" delilah beamed happily, patting her chest as you quirked an eyebrow.

"i think its a little bit too big to be yours. we don't lie lilah!" you gently chatsized as she frowned. "mine." she repeated again, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to the playmat in the corner of her room.

you watched with wide eyes as with a grunt she pushed over the chest which contained all of her toys, though it wasn't just toys which spilled out of it.

"see? mine!" delilah chirped proudly, fondly poking at the small mountain of your wifes clothes which she'd obviously hidden away. "baby those are mama's. why did you take mama's shirts, and mama's gloves...and one of mama's shoes?" you frowned, picking up the singular cleat with a confused frown.

"wanna be like mama! so gotta dress like mama." delilah shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world as you hummed and squatted down. "why?" you hit her with what at the moment was her favourite one word question.

"dance to be like you, don't wanna kick the ball so gotta dress like mama so she isn't sad!" your daughter explained as a soft smile curled into your features and you swiftly scooped the girl up, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"my love, mama isn't sad that you don't want to play football. she's very very proud of you, we both are. remember how we bought you flowers and ice cream and all your aunties came over for a big party after your recital?" you reminded as delilah nodded with a happy grin.

"did mama seem sad then?" your daughter shook her head. "you can wear mama's clothes but when she says you can baby, you can't take other peoples things without asking thats not nice!" you warned gently as delilah nodded in understanding.

"sorry." she sighed making you melt all over again as you hugged her tightly, rubbing small circles into her back. "thats okay lilah, just gotta ask from now on, okay?" you felt her nod into your shoulder.

her tiny arms still looped around your neck you stood and hoisted her onto your hip, making your way back to your own bedroom where your wife had finished putting away all the clothes she'd flung about earlier.

"well hello cheeky. decided a nap wasn't on the cards today did we?" mary grinned, the smile falling as your daughter hid her face in your shoulder. "come with me please." you requested, holding your free hand out to your wife who looked confused but didn't question it, taking your hand as you lead her back to delilahs bedroom.

"oh." mary breathed out as she noticed the pile of her clothing on the floor scattered about with your daughters most favourite toys. "lilah is there something we should say to mama please?" you encouraged softly, placing her down on her feet as mary knelt down to be closer to her height.

you watched a flicker of something spark in her eyes as she too noticed right away which top your daughter was drowning in. "sorry mama, should have asked." delilah pouted as you saw mary also melt right away at the gesture.

"thats okay lilah, thank you for saying sorry baby." mary opened her arms as your daughter all but charged into them, knocking your wife onto your ass as you covered your laugh up with your hand.

"god forget ballet maybe we get you into rugby kid!" mary groaned dramatically as your daughter giggled, mary pouncing at her and kissing all over her face as she begged out to stop among her laughter.

"hey lilah." you called out, your daughter sitting up a little to look at you. "why don't you go find mama's big red speaker and we can have dance class here instead." you offered watching her eyes light up as she pushed mary's arms off and all but sprinted out of the room.

"i'm sorry for accusing you of being a thief?" your wife smiled guiltily from the floor as you rolled your eyes affectionately and held a hand out to help her up. "mary!" you squealed as she tugged rather hard at your hand sending you toppling down into her awaiting arms.

"okay okay! i forgive you, ya big dope." you laughed as the taller girl attacked your own face with kisses now, apologies and sweet nothings mumbled in between them sending your cheeks bright red as you pushed her away.

"what?" you smiled knowingly as she hovered over you with a cheeky grin. "what!" you repeated again when she only continued to look down on you with the same grin that had you falling head over heels for her in the first place as she stole a quick kiss and pushed herself up.

"babe we're raising a squirrel."

[halfelvened]

Honestly surprised that there's not more love for Jonathan's despairing "I know now the span of my life. God help me!" on May 19th.

Gives me the biggest chills.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

He's My Man (Part 2)

Summary: The reader isn't quite so sure if she can trust Russell with her secrets but he's decided she's going to get his help, whether she wants it or not. Reluctantly she accepts but in the process realizes she might actually be starting to care about him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, mentions of death, angst, fluff

A/N: Ooooh things are heating up! Please enjoy!

__________

Russell stared at you with what one could only describe as a look of wonder. You didn’t exactly blame him. Eating four large cheese danishes and chugging back a week’s worth of coffee in the span of fifteen minutes was enough to make anyone’s eyes widen.

You tossed your trash in his motel waste bin when you finished and returned to your seat at the tiny corner table. With an obnoxiously loud slurp of even more coffee, Russell titled his head, shaking it slightly.

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room. He straightened in his seat, pausing a beat. “So. What’s this long story?”

Your fingertips rattled against the side of the large styrofoam cup, a small amount of heat radiating through. Now that you’d had some time to think, or rather stress eat, you knew this was a mistake. A big one. You needed to kick Russell out of your life and the sooner the better.

“I think you have the wrong idea about what’s going on and I thought it better we talk in private,” you said. Russell wore a weary expression, his eyes dissecting your every micro-movement. “I’m not interested in a relationship or a date or conversation. I don’t do that considering my line of work and I imagine you keep things casual with yours. So you take your money and consider this a warning. Contact me again and I will have you dealt with, understand?”

Russell leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a clenched jaw. You narrowed your eyes in response, Russell picking at his bandage without realizing. 

“Stop that,” you mumbled when he kept doing it, his lip twitching up in a not so friendly way.

“You threaten me and in the next breath are worried about my damn stitches? I don’t think you realize just how good I am at my job,” he said, placing both hands on the table, folding them together. You swallowed, Russell staring so intently you had to glance away. “Alright. Back at the coffee shop, that was a moment of bravery and now it’s passed? Tough shit. We’re in the weeds now and we ain’t leaving until I know you do your job of your own free will. Understand?”

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving.

“Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

“You’re one guy.” You shook your head. “Drop this or you’ll wind up dead or worse.”

“I made my living doing jobs where if I fucked up I’d wish I were dead over the alternative. I know how to keep a secret. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. But you opened the box. You can’t just close it again.”

“Yes, I can. Goodbye, Russell.” You grabbed your coffee and headed for the door, pausing when you had a hand on the handle.

But what if he could help…he was ex-special ops…

Russell’s hand slid over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You frowned, a reassuring smile greeting you.

“Do you like your job?” he asked. 

“S’complicated,” you whispered.

“How complicated?”

“Jobs like yours…that’s up to me to do that stuff but I…I work for someone else.” You found Russell’s unreadable green eyes and sighed. “I’m a fixer for the local mafia. It’s not a job you get to quit and stay alive very long.”

Russell contemplated your words, lips forming a thin line before he nodded. “I can take care of that assuming your story checks out.”

“My story?” you asked, Russell humming. “Why would I lie-”

“You could be playing me for any number of reasons. Like I said, I’m going to check your story out and if it’s all kosher, we’ll figure out where to go from there. Capiche?”

“Fine,” you grit out, shaking his hand away. “But do it quietly. You got three days.”

Late Evening

Your eye actually twitched when you answered your front door that night to find not your pizza delivery man before you but Russell fucking Shaw. He wore a deep navy utility jacket that hung loosely around his trim waist and a pair of black jeans. You weren’t sure why but his shift from lighter colored clothing this morning to this dark, edgy look made him look as dangerous as you expected he was.

“Russell,” you said. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, eyes roaming over your body. You glanced down at your soft pale yellow pajama shirt and matching shorts set, huffing when he slipped past you inside.

“You totally are the kind of woman to having matching jammies,” he chuckled. You gripped the door tight, ready to kick him out just as your delivery driver pulled up.

“Just…take off your boots.” Two minutes later you had your pizza and garlic knots on your kitchen counter while Russell leaned back against it, his jacket since removed and tossed on the back of your couch. He wore a black zip up that was undone over a black t-shirt, Russell shifting at your growing unease.

“Listen,” he said, holding up his hands. “You got questions but first off, I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what I wear when I need to go…looking around places I ain’t exactly invited into.”

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.”

“You have sauce all over your shirt.” You glanced down, spotting marinara drops all over your short sleeve button up top from where you’d had the edge of the pizza box pressed against your torso as you’d carried it in. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me, though. Makes a guy feel special.”

“I’m on edge, alright?” you snapped, grabbing a towel and trying to get most of the sauce out. “Plus I just ruined a two hundred dollar shirt.”

“Figured you for a oversized men’s t-shirts kind of gal but little sets from french boutiques suites you.” You froze, Russell dropping his hands. “I know all about your shopping habits. You have high quality taste, much richer than the average suburbanite.”

“And?” you said, tossing the towel down, hands going to your hips. “Are you about to kidnap me and turn me over to the mafia or what?”

Russell approached you slowly, gently picking up the towel from the floor and dabbing it with some dish soap. 

“If I had wanted to hurt you or take you or whatever else is going through your head, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” He rubbed the towel against the damp spot on your shirt, letting the fabric get soapy. “Let that soak for a few minutes and then after you have some dinner, toss it in the wash. It’ll come out good as new.”

“How do you know that?” you asked, Russell hanging your towel on the oven handle. 

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

You weren’t sure how he’d seen you swipe the knife from the butchers block but figured he had a point. If he’d wanted to screw you over, he would have done it already. After excusing yourself, you returned in a pair of skinny black joggers and a slightly cropped gray AC/DC shirt to find Russell had already plated two sizeable portions for yourselves. 

“See? Now that’s a look more fitting for the princess of darkness,” he chuckled.

“That’s queen of darkness to you,” you said, taking a seat at the island in front of one of the plates. “Do me a favor, lover boy. Grab me a guinness from the fridge.”

“Dark stout. Always a good choice.” He got out two, removing the cap for you before retreating to the other side of the island.

“As much as I love uninvited house guests who welcome themselves to my food and beer, why are you here, Russell?” You took a large bite of pizza, Russell long necking his beer for a moment. 

“Yet I don’t see you kicking me out. It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen for me, Y/N,” he teased. You growled, Russell’s eyebrows raising in amusement. “Hot damn, woman. I love when you get all grr. Tells me you are a force to be reckoned with.”

You rolled your eyes, Russell taking an extra large bite. “Stop flirting and talk.”

“Why can’t I do both?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “But to answer your original question, I’m here because your story checked out and that’s kind of a problem.”

“Excuse me? Why is that an issue?”

He set his plate down and gripped the island, leaning over it slightly. “Y/N. I can call up a few friends and wipe out a local mafia family no problem.”

“Awesome. Then what’s the fucking problem?” Russell tilted his head, like you’d just walked into some kind of trap he’d set.

“Y/N. Despite all the obvious sexual tension brewing between us, you failed to mention that you have a boyfriend. You know, the head of this fucking mafia family. The boyfriend that buys you those fancy french pajama sets? The one that bought that espresso machine over there? Girl, you better explain yourself because I am not a hired gun.”

You chewed quietly for a few moments under the heated scrutiny of Russell’s gaze before you pushed the plate away.

“My dad was an accomplished doctor. He was very well respected. I grew up very comfortably until I was about eight.” Russell loosened his stance and began to eat while you decided what he needed to absolutely know. “My dad unknowingly saved a mobster’s life one night in the ER. Mr. Lauter.”

“The former head of the mafia and this guy, Owen, your supposed boyfriend’s dad?” You nodded before taking a big swig from your bottle.

“Well, that pissed off Mr. Elpine who had almost had a successful hit on Mr. Lauter. Elpine tried to get my dad to kill Lauter. Dad refused and the next morning on the way to school, the brake lines in our car didn’t work. Dad and I walked away. Mom and my brother didn’t. Dad was scared Elpine would come after me again.”

“Your father went to Lauter for protection,” said Russell. You picked up your pizza as he put together the rest of the pieces. “Lauter offers him protection for saving his life but something happens and your dad ends up working for Lauter as his fixer.”

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy. PTSD for sure, a mental break too. I always guessed there was some brain trauma after the accident that never healed. He got real bad when I went to college. Bad enough that Lauter stepped in when my dad attacked me when I came home for the holidays. Lauter killed him and the fucked up part was I wasn’t even upset. My real dad had died when I was a kid. But…when a mob boss kills for you whether you wanted them to or not-”

“They think they own you for life.” You nodded. “So you became the fixer.”

“They let me finish college under the condition I come back and work for the family. They leave me be except for when I need to patch someone in the crew up. It’s honestly not that bad. They gave me a lot of money over the years. I hate to say this but Mr. Lauter was pretty good to me.”

Russell cleared his throat. “You do know how fucked up what he did to you is, right?”

“Of course I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “But compared to my dad and Owen, he was the lesser evil.”

“I came across the fact Mr. Lauter died about three weeks ago from heart disease.” You hummed. “Tell me about this fuckface, Owen.”

“Dude has had a crush on me since he was fucking twelve. He has it in his head that the family owns me, literally. Lauter always reined him in but since he’s been gone, Owen’s been…pushy. Telling the crew I’m his girlfriend, asking them to follow me. Thankfully, and this is why this is so weird, I grew up around a lot of the guys. Making me work and fix people, fine. But some kind of forced romance? They aren’t cool with it, at least they’re kind of ignoring Owen. I’ve kept Owen off my back because he’s grieving and busy trying to take over but he’s going to back on my ass soon. This time, those guys will have to listen to their new boss.”

“So…I take out Owen and you think you’re in the clear. You could have just said that.” He finished off his beer and washed his hands at the sink. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going grab essentials, and I mean essentials, while I pack up your dinner in what I expect is some color coordinated tupperware. Then you’re going to take my car and drive to Elmhurst Camping Grounds. It’s about four hours north of here and no, you will stop for anything so use the bathroom before you go and I’ll pack you a snack. You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

“I feel like if I ask questions you’ll just tell me I don’t want to know.” Russell smirked.

“I love that big brain of yours.” You rolled your eyes but felt a tiny smile on your face. “Warming up to me are we?”

“Fuck no. But uh, who the hell are you sending me to?”

“My baby brother. Don’t worry. His ugly mug will keep you safe.”

Four Hours Later

“Uh, hi,” you said, practically bouncing up and down at midnight in front of a strange tall man at a very nice airstream RV. 

“Y/N,” he said as you forced a smile. “Bathroom is right there-”

You darted past him and into the small cubby bathroom, grateful after the long drive. The man was waiting leaned against a small counter space when you exited, a temporary bed made up behind him in what looked like a breakfast nook.

“Sorry to barge in. Russell said not to stop for anything.” 

“S’alright,” he said. “Bed’s made up if you want to crash. I’m going to stay up a bit longer by the fire. You’re welcome to join if you like.”

“Thanks, uh…” you said, a very brief smile on his face as you tried to remember what Russell had called him.

“Colter. It’s not a problem.” He skirted by you and outside, taking a seat in a foldable camping chair. You had questions but for the moment, all you wanted was to get some rest. 

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped. 

“Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

“Morning,” he said, slowly backing up to the bedroom. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Not a problem,” you said, catching a whiff of coffee. 

“Mug are in the first cabinet if you want a cup. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He excused himself to his room and slid the divider shut, leaving you to the rest of the airstreamer. 

A moment later you were outside in front of a small fire, sitting in a chair with warm coffee in your hands. It was cool and you wished you’d thought to pack a jacket in your haste last night.

You were rubbing your arms when something was draped over your shoulders, a thick heavy hoodie. 

“Russell got you out of there pretty quick, huh?” asked Colter, taking the mug while you shrugged into the warm fleece.

“Yeah. All I grabbed was my wallet, some cash and my computer. He told me I could buy clothes here,” you said. Colter handed you back the mug and took a seat beside you.

“I checked his car. He had a duffel full of his clothes in there I brought inside. You can use his stuff, or mine, until we can hit a store.”

“Thanks,” you said, smelling Russell’s deodorant on the fabric. Colter saw you tug the hood up, a question on the tip of his tongue but he decided against it. The air was still and quiet apart from the crackle of fire and morning birds. 

“So,” said Colter, not looking at you as he drank. “You and Russell…you like, his girlfriend-”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I just met the guy yesterday. All I did was patch him up.”

“Right.” You sunk lower in your chair, slurping loudly.

“Were you special ops like him?” you asked. Colter shook his head.

“Civilian. Never had any formal training, just what we grew up with.” Well, that was an interesting statement. What the hell did it mean though? “Our father was a survivalist, taught us things.”

“Oh. My dad was a little out there too.” Was that why Russell was so adamant about helping you out of your situation? No. Maybe it played a part, but no. He’d wanted to help before you told him that. “Does Russell do this sort of thing often?”

“No clue. First time I talked to him in years was two days ago. I helped him find a friend of his. I was there when he got that bullet hole in him you fixed.”

Alrighty then. Russell was becoming more and more intriguing by the second. 

“So you don’t know a lot about him then,” you said. Colter shrugged.

“I guess I’m figuring him out too but he’s a good guy. He’s somebody you want as a friend.” You hummed, finishing your coffee off. Colter excused himself to get you more and returned with a fresh cup, steam billowing from within. 

“You trail run?” you asked, Colter’s eyes showing a flash of surprise. “Muddy sneakers by the door. I did cross country in school.”

“I try to get out most mornings. The hot water should be good to go in about five minutes if you want a shower.” 

“Thanks.” You licked your lips as you remembered the sight of him exiting the bathroom not long ago. Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together to try and get a hold of yourself. Colter smirked slightly in his seat. “What?”

“I’m good at reading people is all.”

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down. Colter only smiled as he looked away to the fire.

“You’re wondering if Russell works out and picturing him naked.” You glared at him but it did nothing to hide the heat radiating off your cheeks. “Hey, you’re a grown woman. You can do as you please.”

“I think I will take that shower now.” You stood and set the mug down on the ground, shooting Colter one last look. There’d been no malice or teasing in his voice. He was simply being straight with you. “Listen. I just…I haven’t exactly been around good guys much, or ever. I’m not saying there’s anything there beyond physical attraction, okay?”

“Okay,��� he said, looking at you like you were the worst liar in the world. “Whatever you say.”

You grumbled and went inside to take a very cold shower.

Three Days Later - Spokane, Washington

“Hey, Colt,” you said, pushing up the long sleeves of Russell’s gray henley you wore. Colter hummed around the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth as you spun your laptop around from the other side of the airstream’s dining table. “Could she have gone here? Looks like a decommissioned game trail.”

“Yeah, yeah that fits,” he said with his mouth full, chewing and swallowing quickly so he could take a closer look. You returned to your own dinner, Colter mentioning he was going to take a look after dark. 

Things had fallen into an easy pattern with the two of you. Colter was very different than his brother but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much and worked as a rewardist. He’d planned on sticking around the east coast for when Russell met up with you again but an urgent case in Washington popped up. You’d spent most of the past three days driving cross-country behind Colter’s truck and the airstreamer, learning what the hell a rewardist was.

Colter had told you about the case at first to keep your mind off of Russell but you’d reluctantly taken an interest and now were deep in the weeds of helping him locate a missing young woman.

“You want to come look with me?” asked Colter, breaking you out of your train of thought. You blinked, a small smile on his face. “Come on. It’ll get you some experience with rewardest work and stop you from doom scrolling.”

“Alright,” you sighed. While you appreciated Colter’s attempts to make you feel better, you were starting to get very concerned. You hadn’t heard from Russell since you left your house a few days ago and there was nothing in the news about the local mafia members being killed. Or him.

Colter rubbed your back when you helped him unhook it from the airstream. He tended to do that when you started to get stressed out. He hadn’t been lying before. He really was good at reading people. 

“Colter,” you said in the dark truck, the hum of the vehicle quiet in the cab as he drove. “What if something happened to him and he needs our help?”

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.” You bit your bottom lip as you stared out the window, trees passing by. 

If only it were that simple.

It was two in the morning by the time you and Colter made it back to the camping grounds. You’d found Martha in not too great of shape but she was alive and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery with time. Colter has tried to give you some of the reward money for helping but you hadn’t done all that much in your opinion. 

“Stay here,” he said when he turned the truck into your lot and you spotted a dark figure sitting by the fire. He took his gun from the back of jeans and got out, pausing halfway out the door. He smiled over at you and you caught the dark figure give an awkward little wave. “Should I tell him how much you’ve been worried?”

“Not. A. Word. Colter,” you said before hopping out and happily rushing over to where Russell rose to his feet. You didn’t realize you were giving him a hug until he was laughing, returning it and lifting you off the ground. 

“I missed my queen of darkness too,” he chuckled, setting you down with a smirk. You scoffed, Russell’s eyebrows raising at your attire. “Is that my jacket? And shirt?”

“Why waste the money on new stuff,” you shrugged, Russell grinning like an idiot. “Stop that.”

“I’m sure that was the reason.” Colter came over, the boys sharing a nod. “You keep my little delinquent out of trouble?”

“She’s a breeze,” said Colter, taking a seat. “Even helped with my latest case. She should try the rewardist thing. She’s good at it.”

“Maybe. All I want to know is am I good?” you asked. Russell took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded, the tension running of out your body. “Thank you, Russell. Thank your friends too. I’ll pay you guys-”

“No payment. This was because you’re my friend, plain and simple. Just knowing you’re safe is more than enough.” You smiled, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. “You should rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“How-”

“In the morning. I need to catch up with my little brother.” You nodded, enjoying the feel of his heavy hand as it ran over your head. “Go sleep, Y/N. You’re exhausted.”

You reluctantly peeled yourself away and went inside to find your makeshift bed had been done up for you already. You didn’t even try to fight the flutters in your stomach when you spotted a yellow pajama shirt and shorts set neatly folded on top. There was a note beside it, a stupid ass smile finding it’s way onto your face.

Brand new. Imported from France. Don’t get used to fancy ass presents like these. I ain’t made of money. Even if these are soft as fuck and I totally wish they made these for men. I still think you’d look better wearing a band tee to bed.

Russ

P.S. They had a sale so I got you something else too. Check your backpack.

You shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor, taking out a very elegant black bag. You undid the tissue paper and went wide eyed. 

Inside was a very, very, fancy black lace bra and multiple pairs of gorgeous bikini style undies in soft muted colors. There was another note waiting for you inside, your heart stilling.

No strings attached. Hopefully these will cover you for a little while until you can get settled again.

“Oh, Russell,” you said quietly, thumbing over the bag, smiling to yourself as your insides did very happy backflips.

He wasn’t just a pretty and protective face. He was thoughtful too.

And you were starting to fall for a guy that’d most likely be gone by this time tomorrow.

Fuck.

__________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[greenfuzzyball]

Dracula Daily Holidays (so far)

Here are some holidays the fandom has latched onto as we’ve been reading Dracula Daily/ listening to re:Dracula.

With this list I’m trying to capture the moments that get talked about the most or elicit the biggest reactions (admittedly, almost every entry has an iconic line or moment.)

I also included each character’s introduction or instance of them actually writing/recording something themselves. Ish.

Up to current entry to add as time goes on:

May 3 - My good friend, Jonathan Harker/Paprika Hendl

May 4 - The kindness of strangers

May 5 - “Enter freely and of your own will!”

May 7 - First Use of “Voluptuous”

May 8 - “A foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with it!”

May 9 - Mina

May 11 - Lucy

May 12 - Lizard Fashion- The Horror Day

May 15 - Lizard Fashion - There He Goes Again/ Jonathan, Gothic Damsel

May 16 - The Three Weed-Smoking Girlfriends

May 19 - “I am surely in the toils” & “I know now the span of my life. God help me!”

May 24 - “Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble?” / Cowboy Day

May 25 - Jack’s Podcast / Renfield

May 26 - Art

May 28 - Mail Fraud Dracula / “A vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality!”

May 31 - The real terror is Dracula’s abuse / “Some new scheme of villainy”

June 5 - Renfield starts making his way up the food chain

June 17 - The coffins

June 18 - Statistical Outlier Spiders Renfield

June 24 - Identify Theft Dracula / The mother at the gate

June 25 - Jonathan’s Lizard Fashion

June 30 - IT’S SHOVEL DAY, MOTHAFUCKAS

July 18 - The Captain of the Demeter starts keeping a log

[starlitartworks]

19th of May- I know now the span of my life. God help me!

-

Our good friend Jonathan is surely in the toils

[whoreteen]

hello. i love your writing so much. i would love to see some enemies to lovers slash angry sex with Chan, thinking it'd be hot to see him still being so petty and throw each other's remarks while fucking so hard. forgetting they are still at the gathering where friends are still there, hearing everyting loud and clear. please please 🥹

04:52 ♡

⤷ pairing: chan x f!reader. ⤷ word count: 3,8K. ⤷ genre: smut (with feelings 😵‍💫😮‍💨😵‍💫), slight fluff, established relationship, idol!au. ⤷ warnings: exhibitionism, handjob, masturbation, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, use of pet names. (lmk if i missed anything!)

“god, just shut up,” you spit, not meeting his eyes. “i’m not fucking jealous.”

if someone asks you what your biggest regret is, you’d tell them it would be encountering chan. it’s where it got you— parties at random places, intoxicated out of your mind, being reckless…

it’s the temptations and, things you do out of jealousy and possessiveness.

it’s what he does to you.

“you’re such a fucking brat, y’know that?” chan growls through gritted teeth and an equally tight jaw. “why do you make a big deal out of nothing?”

his lustful gaze flickers between your eyes, down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

truthfully, you can’t even say it’s all chan’s fault, but you believe meeting him definitely was the first blow to your breaking point.

like, look where you are now, inhaling weed smoke and taking shots on a wednesday night, shortening your life span by doing so at a random party with a random mix of drunk party people.

begrudgingly.

you wish you weren’t in love with a delinquent. so desperate to get his attention, even if you knew he’ll break your heart into pieces all over again.

you let out a sigh, knowing you have his attention. knowing you both have each other right where you want.

“figures. you want me…” chan tries his best to fight back a smile. “you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

you swallow down the desire to kiss him.

“i see you’re still as delusional as ever,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him as you ignore the pounding of your heart.

he raises a perfectly arched brow as his face moves even closer to yours, causing you to lean back as much as you possibly can until your head hits the wall.

“and you’re still a slut for me.”

his lips are dangerously close to yours as he speaks and you feel your stomach turning. “hm? or am i wrong?”

“w-what are you d-doing?” you stammer out, pushing him away by his shoulders.

you aren’t going to let him win that easy. you can’t ever let him know how desperate you are for him, too.

the idea of him fucking you against the wall while your friends are in the next room sounds perfect. but even if you want him to ruin you, fuck you so hard like it’s the last thing he’d do; you can’t let him know that.

your inhale is sharp, your lips parted, and you finally remember how to breathe when he moves back a bit to properly examine your face.

“see? can’t even act right around me…” he laughs.

you immediately push him by his shoulders.

“baby, you’re so hot when you’re angry, y’know that? fuck, you shoving me like this and pretending to be unaffected is a turn on.”

you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out as you’re he cut off by the gentle kisses applied to your neck.

chan nips at your skin in a perfect mixture of pleasure and pain, leaving a few open-mouthed kisses and you can’t help but turn your head, allowing him full access.

normally, you would’ve never even dared to do something like this in a public place, but frankly you don’t give a fuck.

“got nothing to say now, huh?” he questions with a scoff. “proves my point. you want me, too.”

you don’t have anything to say— you’re speechless and your heart is quite literally pounding in your chest with how close he is to your face.

you’re drunk and high, don’t have anything to lose and currently, you want to be chan’s… well, anything.

“fuck you,” you manage to croak out.

his nose grazes yours as he lets out a dark chuckle.

he’s trying to make you give in, however it doesn’t have the desired effect he’s looking for. or so you think.

you hate his guts, and by now, the many drinks you’ve had; the joints you’ve smoke, have already kicked in and you want to be petty. you want to fight with him, just for the sake of it.

“…hmm? not going to deny it, are you?” he closes in on you and he’s silent, waiting for your response.

there is a brief minute in between all of the chaos, where all that is heard is your breaths, and all you do is stare at each other.

that’s before he speaks again, a lot more softer than before, “do you actually think i look at her the way i look at you?” he asks. “or that she can even compare?” his voice tries to soften up along with his features, but you aren’t going to fold so easily.

“bullshit,” you snarl, burning holes into his skull with your angry glare. “besides, i don’t give a fuck. like you said, we’re not together.”

noticing his jaw flex and loosen a few times through his annoyance, he finally lunges at you, pinning you up against the wall again as you groan in displeasure.

you try to twist your wrist out of his grasp that’s slowly getting tighter and tighter.

“no, seriously. do you really think i’d do that to you?” he asks, his tone still cold and demanding as his hands starts to shake slightly with the force of his grip. “after everything?”

“chan,” you groan, still trying to pull away from him. you take another shallow breath and look at him through your lashes, trying not to show how much his words are affecting you. “i’m not in the fucking mood.”

“i’m not playing with you, i’m serious,” he states, before pressing his entire body flush against yours.

his voice softens as he admits, “i missed you so much. you know you’re the only one who can make me feel this way.”

you didn’t mean to, but in that instant, you let a little, ‘yeah, right,’ slip from your mouth and that did it.

chan smashes his lips against yours with a bruising force, his hands still lingering at your bound wrists that he’s moved above your head.

groaning into the kiss, you try to turn your head, but just as you pulled away and got some air, his hands let go of your wrists and traps your face between them instead. he brings your lips against his again, somehow trying to make you feel what he feels.

you try to push him away from you by his shoulders as soon as you feel his tongue desperately prying at your lips, you know it’s over.

this man will be the death of you one way or another.

chan wraps one arm around your head and the other around your waist to keep you there, pressing you firmly against his strong frame, making you sigh into the kiss.

no matter how much you can’t stand him, how furious and angry you are, you just give in anyway, like you always do.

almost like he has some kind of power over you.

you let his tongue tangle with yours as his still forceful mouth causes yours to feel slightly swollen.

when he feels satisfied that he’s finally gotten what he wanted, he pulls away with a loud smack.

you look up at him, finding hooded eyes and parted lips. but before you can respond, a sudden, loud gasp escapes you as chan easily swoops you up with one arm, backing you into the wall, hard.

“someone might walk in,” you gasp in surprise.

“let’s give them a show.”

“fuck—” you moan as his lips leaves butterfly kisses on your jaw. “i can’t stand you.”

he pushes you against the wall, one of his hands harshly yanking your hair so hard tears appear in your eyes.

you know exactly what nerve you’d hit.

“you can’t stand me?” he asks, threading his fingers in your hair before placing soft kisses on the exposed skin on your neck. “yet here you are, all hot and bothered... your skin begging for my touch.”

a sinful, loud moan rips from your throat and goes straight to his cock as he lets his hand come up to your throat before squeezing a little too tightly, backing you further into the wall.

you feel his grip tighten around your neck, hard enough to leave bruises but controlled enough to constrict your airway.

“i hate you.”

“stop fucking lying y/n, you know that’s not true.” he snaps harshly, and you know you’d hit a nerve with him, but you honestly don’t care.

you so hate him… right now, anyway as you’d probably soften up after some time to think.

his hands begin tearing at your clothing, ridding you of your dress rather quickly.

you watch him hold the short, slightly revealing dress up in front of him as he scoffs loudly, “why would you wear this?” he asks, the tone in his voice making him sound more angry than before.

“because you always said it was your favourite,” you say with a smirk, not caring that you’re being a little insensitive.

whatever the motives behind your words were, that did it.

he groans, quickly throwing the dress aside before ripping your bra and underwear off.

you slightly frown as he takes the last of it off and you’re finally naked before him again, his eyes ranking over your exposed body shamelessly.

“i hate you,” you mumble again.

“shut up!” he barks again and you listen, but not because he told you to; because you can’t think of anything to shoot back.

“i’m gonna get you to take that back, fucking watch,” he said in a low tone, pulling his t-shirt over his head before unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans quickly.

he doesn’t even bother taking the rest of his clothes off, he just pulls his cock out of his boxers and jeans, letting you see that he’s already hard and ready.

stroking himself a few times, his fingers pulls at his shaft until you watch precum collect on his slit.

chan stops himself with a pleasured sigh just before lining himself up and shoving his entire cock inside of you.

you both gasp in unison before he starts pumping, quickly finding a fast pace.

you moan hesitantly, trying to keep each and every one of them in to show him how mad you are, but that doesn’t really work.

every moan just keeps topping the last and soon you’re withering as he drills you into the wall.

you keep your hands attached to the wall, afraid to let go, seeing as they’d probably just drift towards his hips as they work against yours. you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

but soon, you feel your anger fading away and you can only feel pure pleasure as each of his thrusts makes you feel better…

“take… it. b-back.” chan hisses, enunciating each of his words with rough thrusts.

you shake your head and proceed in keeping your mouth shut as he just moves faster, knowing you’re close.

feeling his mouth dip down to your chest, you let out a whimper as he starts devouring all of the skin there is to reach before licking a trail up to your neck where he begins to bite and suck roughly.

“nggh— oh my god…fuck,” you moan as he finds your sweet spot, but quickly close your mouth before a loud sigh in the form of his name can escape.

you begin grinding your hips opposite of his and he moans louder as holds your hips in place to quicken his pace even more.

finally, you feel your anger reside permanently as your legs wrap themselves tighter around his waist and your hands around his neck.

you watch him crack a small smile for a split second, knowing he’d finally won, before your orgasm starts.

if you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving feedback! love hearing you guys’ thoughts!

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Scars

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.3K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: mention of smut but nothing too vivid, Tav history but nothing horrible, kinda funny in some ways, really enjoyed writing this one and if you don't like it - I hate to tell you but you are wrong (I don't make the rules here sorry (I def do make the rules)), I'm so sleep deprived lord help me

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

You laid across from Astarion, enjoying each other's company as the early morning rays of golden sunshine cascaded into the tent. It was the first night you had slept together of Astarion’s own volition. After defeating Cazador, he decided to try living again and he wanted to indulge in every way possible, including indulging in you. It was sweet, gentle, thoughtful lovemaking. Ensuring you were both comfortable and consenting was at the forefront of both your minds. You laid on your combined bedrolls nude, your lower halves covered by a thin blanket. Astarion traced over your face deftly, his fingers subconsciously tracing over the scars that crossed your eye, cheek, and lips. 

“How did you get these?” he asked suddenly.

Your eyes opened completely, waking from their sleepy haze to find his.

“Forgive me, that was rude… you don’t have to tell me.” he said, shaking his head. 

You smiled at him, kissing him briefly. “I’m just as old as you, I have quite a few scars if you’d like to hear the many tales.” you smirked.

He let out a relieved sigh, worried he had offended you somehow. He nodded at your question, finding the raised blemishes to be quite beautiful against your skin. 

“These,” you said gently moving his fingers across your eye and cheek, “are from a devil. My very short stint fighting in the Blood War gave me these.” 

“And this,” you said tracing over your lips, “from a dog. Bit me when I was 7.”

You moved his hand to trace over the large scar that spanned across your neck, “A near death fight with a Bhaal spawn. Nearly took my head off, thankfully I had quite the healer with me.”

Astarion grimaced at this scar. He couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. Being bitten by Cazador had felt like a shard of icy glass being plunged into his neck. Having your throat sliced open by someone as vicious as a Bhaal spawn, he could imagine the immense fear seeing all the blood seeping from you, your life slipping away slowly. He thanked any gods who were listening for the healer who saved you long ago.

“How old were you?” he whispered.

“For my neck?” you asked, “I was 80, my first time in Baldur’s Gate actually. Quite the welcome.” you chuckled. 

You carried on with your little tour of your body. “This one,” you said, tracing a very faint scar of three little dots on the top of your chest, “I gave to myself. Turns out forks are quite dangerous if you trip with them in your hand.” 

Astarion scoffed, a breathy laugh coming out after. As gifted of a fighter as you are, you are also the most accident prone individual he has ever met. 

“Lets see…” you continued moving his fingers to your upper ribs where a deep, jagged scar lay, “A worshiper of Loviatar “blessed” me with that one.”

“Blessed you?” he said, quirking an eyebrow with a hint of confusion in his eyes.

“Let's just say Loviatar worshipers enjoy all manner of things in the bedroom.” you blushed. “It was truly a blessing though, the knife they so graciously stabbed me with was infused with magic. Makes me harder to kill since I “embraced” Loviatar.” 

Astarion smiled at that one. He had noticed how slashing didn’t seem to have much effect on you in battle, now he knows why.

“This one,” you said, moving his hand to a scar that spanned from your belly button to your hip, “Particularly brutal - a Lolth sworn drow and a drider came after me while I was knocked down. Turns out spider legs are sharp as fuck. And the venom? Lord, I have yet to feel a sting quite like that again.” 

Astarion frowned, he always despised spiders. Now he has even more reason to dislike them.

“This,” you moved his hand to your upper right thigh, “Another self-inflicted accident. Swam in the Black Lake, which is forbidden and for good reason too. Giant eels leave quite the electric burn.” 

“Why were you in a forbidden lake?” he asked, thumbing over the patchy scar.

“Why not?” you winked at him with a smirk.

Gods he loved your rebellious spirit, quite matched his own. Trouble seemed to find you both all too easily and yet, you always managed to make fun out of it. 

“This,” you said as you dramatically slapped his hand to your ass cheek. He felt for a moment before feeling a raised “X” shape. “An arrow of Ilmater from a particularly pissed off dwarf.”

“And, pray tell, why was he pissed off?” he said with a smirk of his own. 

“I may or may not have been trying to steal a particular magical necklace.” you grinned.

Astarion hooked his finger under the golden chain around your neck that always had a slight ethereal glow to it. “I’m assuming you managed to steal said necklace?” he said before tugging on it to pull you into a kiss. 

You giggled when you pulled away as his lips followed yours, you pecked them again before continuing. “Yes. Well worth it though, it prevents me from being poisoned. It’s come in handy more than once.” 

You moved his hand to your knee but not before he gave your ass a final squeeze. You squealed as you leaned into him. He would never get tired of your toothy grin, it was like sunshine to him, he loved to bask in it. 

“This one,” you said as you moved his hand to feel over two parallel scars, “from a mermaid. She tried to drown me so I kicked her off, but not before her scales dug into me.” 

“Why was she trying to drown you?” he asked.

You gave him a sarcastic look, “Have you ever met a mermaid? They don’t need a reason, they do it for sport.” 

Astarion nodded, making a mental note to not venture too far into mermaid infested waters. 

“Kept the scales though! Worth a fortune since they make elixir of water breath.” you said jovially, finding the positive in said situation.

“Elixir of what?” Astarion asked, searching his mind for this unknown elixir. 

“Water breath; you can breathe underwater for quite some time once you drink it. Rather rare though, getting scales off a mermaid is a pretty deadly task.” you shrugged.

“Any more?” Astarion said, his eyes running over all the scars that littered your body. So many stories, so many emotions. 

“Just two…” you said as you raised your foot up so his hand could feel over the top of it. A “Z” shaped scar. “This one is from a Zhentarim, hence the “Z” shape. Got caught trying to break into one of their hideouts. Left me with a lovely little scar to remind me not to try again.” 

Astarion traced the shape, you jerked away at the ticklish feeling. 

“Finally,” you said moving his hand between your legs right where the plush of your thigh meets your groin, “this one is from the best lover I have ever had.” 

Astarion felt for a moment but couldn’t feel anything. He looked up at you confused, “There's no scar here?” he said, waiting for you to guide him to the proper spot.  

“Not yet. I suggest you get to it, fangs.” you smirked at him. 

Astarion gave you a wicked smile when your words clicked in his head, “I’d be honored to add to the collection…” he said as he trailed himself down your body, leaving feverish pecks and little nips as he descended before licking over your thigh and sinking his fangs in. 

You arched your back while you carded your fingers through his white curls. You never wanted to leave this bed, this tent, or him. And luckily, you didn’t have to, not now. Not ever. He would alway be yours, and you his.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello! :D I am so fucking tired but also very awake right now working this overnight. I fucking love this piece so I hope you all do too! Fun fact, the fork scar is an actual scar I have because I am, in fact, a clumsy bitch lol. This felt very fluffy to me and just generally made me feel better so I hope it was comforting to ya'll as well. Talk soon, thanks for everything!!!!!!!! TTYLXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!!!

[comradeprozac]

I know now the span of my life. God help me!

-Johnathan Harker

[random-user753]

"I would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst I am so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger."

This could be written by someone who's in an abusive relationship and it's a quiet interesting choice that Stoker gave this part to a young man. Also Dracula has to know that at this moment Jonathan knows how powerful he is and therefore uses this deliberately which also fits into the 'abusive relationship' interpretative approach.

The use of "it would be madness" stands out as well imo: if I'm not totally wrong (pls correct me in this case), back in 1897 many believed that only women suffer from mental diseases - so Jonathan fearing to go mad etc. is pretty much a contrast to these believes.

"Something may occur which will give me a chance to escape."

I thinks it's poignant that Jonathan still hopes but isn't sure if there's still an opportunity for him. Despite everything he endures and is unwilling to give up.

"I know now the span of my life. God help me!"

When I read Dracula the first time, this line made me shudder and it still does.

[wayfayrr]

I've been on a little bit of a first kick recently - so here's a first meeting of reader and him based on this piece of the dolls au by @ovegakart (this amazing comic piece in particular) and on the topic of tagging people I've got some new friends on discord who have a love of first so consider this a gift <3 @fanfic-fairy-fountain @dreaming-of-lu @angry-trashcan @neverchecking <333 enjoy!

[masterlist]

“Hello..? Time… Sky… Link? Is anyone there?”

As if being forced into Hyrule wasn’t bad enough when I was with the chain, now that cursed shadow decides to push it even further by separating me from them? Why not just kill me outright… Is it to try to give the heroes hope? Wouldn’t it be worse for them for it to kill me outright than string them along with false hope?

“IS ANYONE HERE? HELLO??”

Where even am I? It looks like… Oh. Alone in catacombs, yeah if there’s anywhere to be killed by a malicious shadowy entity it would be in catacombs. Are there going to be redeads here?  If the rest of the monsters are anything to go off of it’s going to be much worse dealing with them now. They can’t handle sunlight though, can they? 

Then that means the pile of rubble in the centre here should be the safest place for me to think through the best way to handle all of this. If the shadow really wants to get to me then of course that won’t stop it but I have to try something right? Is sitting on top of what looks like a grave a little disrespectful? Yes. Do I have many options at the minute? No.

“-Wait-!”

WHY IS THE GRAVE SLIDING OPEN - WHAT WAS THAT!? WHY DOES IT SOUND LIKE SOMEONE IS YELLING?? 

“What… happened? Where is this place?”

I think without a doubt the sound I’ve just made is the most blood-curdling scream I’ve ever let out and - WHY IS HE COVERING MY MOUTH!?

“I’m sorry I know you’re confus- ACK.”

Was biting him the right option? Probably not! But it’s the only thing I could think of to do seeing as well, I'm not exactly calm at this moment in time. Despite the fact that this man has known me for, what, the span of less than a minute, he seems to have at the very least noticed my panic. Backing off like you would with a scared animal - do I really look that petrified? It’s taking everything in me now to not give into my racing heart. 

“I’m sorry, I must’ve overstepped your boundaries. But please can you not be so loud?”

“....”

“... yeah. Yeah I can be a bit quieter”

“So you uhhh-”

Where do I even start - this man just - He just crawled out of a grave. What do you even respond to that with??? 

“...You come round here often?”

[name]. [name] what the heck was that. That's how you flirt with someone at a bar not speak to a living corpse.

“No, I don’t really?”

“Yeah, I figured. I -”

“Are you alright?”

“Look I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I was separated from my group and dropped here then you- You crawled out of a grave and now I’m just?? I’m just stressed and this is only things that have happened today. Now I know that you’re probably more stressed for obvious reasons, but I’m just - I’m sorry for screaming.”

He took a step closer to me at that, not trying to be intimidating, but more cautious. Asking for permission to touch me with an invitingly open outstretched arm, one that seemed to promise some sort of salvation from all the stress I’ve been feeling. One that I was embarrassingly quick to accept. His touch - His hold, is so warm for someone who should really be so cold, there’s definite comfort in feeling his heart beating as well something that proves he’s alive. It didn’t last for long though, as he pulled himself away, reluctantly if I were being bold in how I was to describe it. His fingers lingered, resting on my arm in such a teasingly wanting way. He’s definitely a link thats for sure, that helps me to be more comfortable around him than I would have been with anyone else. He looks like he’s about to start crying.

I - oh god I’m the first person he’s seen since he came back to life. 

“Are you alright link?”

Was that the wrong thing to say? He hasn’t introduced himself to me,  I shouldn’t have said that. It seems like now it’s his turn to look confused - more so than he already was. 

“you how do you know my name?”

“I just guessed, the group I was with before they - well they all looked similar and went by the same name ‘link’ so I just assumed it was the same with you. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“No it doesn’t.” Why is he reaching for my face? He’s got such a soft look on his face, do I remind him of someone? He’s been dead so it could be possible I guess, but it feels like there’s more to how he said it than just something that simple. 

“Oh my dearest love...”

His hands are so soft… it’s hard not to just lean into his touch and stay there, but there are more important things to be dealing with right now. As much as I’d prefer to not have these questions answered. 

“What do you mean by that link? I don’t - I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

He’s so warm, I hate the fact that he’s most likely going to stop holding me when he realises I’m not the person he’s really ever going to want in a relationship. 

“You haven’t but, I can already tell that you’ll be my beloved soon enough.”

“I’m sorry? We’ve only just met how can you tell s- ACK”

This has to just be a link thing. What is it that makes them fall so quickly? But to hold someone so tightly when you've only just met them - when you’ve only just come back from death?  That doesn’t seem like a healthy thing for him, not in the slightest. 

Is my shoulder wet?

Why would it be wet - he was tearing up earlier and - no there it is he’s sniffling as if he’s trying his hardest not to cry. Even if he’s mildly delusional how cruel would you have to be to not help someone go through something as tough as this clearly is. It’s not hard to gently rub his back as he cries onto me, it’s not hard to hum to him as he clutches me like a lifeline, it’s not hard to be here for him when I have to do so little for him. 

“Link? Would you like to talk about it? I don’t know you but - but I’ll be here to listen to you.”

“Thank you. It’s simply that I - I don’t know why or how I got here, It’s simply that I woke up in there after everything then I saw you -”

“[name]”

“[name] and well you know what has happened since. I have to thank you for being here though, there’s something about you, some kind of energy that just feels like a part of myself that I lost. You feel like home to me [name]”

With that last sentence, he burrows his head even further into my neck seeking what I can only guess is comfort. He’s probably just desperate for another person's touch right now, rather than him having fallen in love with me from the briefest interaction that didn’t even go that well.   There’s no harm in waiting here with him for a moment though. What could go wrong in this amount of time?

[itsmecreepinginyourheartbabe]

fuck life, please please please read

I dont know how many of these im going to make in my lifetime

We have outstanding hospital debt from our youngest brother when he had covid last week, we're currently in the hospital again for our second youngest brother because of severe uti and dengue and i am out of a job AGAIN. We've lost literally half of our family in the span of a year and we three only got each other now

OH and we're homeless too! Life's been pretty much a bitch to us ever since this god damn pandemic started

I. Do. Not. Know. What. To. Do. Everytime something good happens for us, everytime we get back on our feet, we're always getting kicked back down

I know life wont be better for me anymore but I know it will be for my brothers, we just need an opportunity

If anyone knows an online job i can take, please reblog this and tell me in the tags. My ask and dms are closed due to rude and low life people so i will DM you instead

Again, im ashamed to ask on here over and over. This has always been my last resort, believe me i have tried my hardest and my best to find help around us. I've exhausted EVERY option out here. I would not be doing this if we had other choices

My brother is cleared to be discharged tomorrow. His bill is at $304 and a $144 doctor's fee. Total of what we need to raise by tomorrow is $448

We're um not expecting to reach the goal anytime soon and i would have to figure things out here but please give us a chance and consider reblogging this. It might reach a bigger audience and a miracle could happen for my brothers

[bittersweetorpheus]

☆ LIFE, DEATH, AND REBIRTH ☆

☆ AUTHORS NOTES ☆

(This ended up getting written from Dottore’s POV. The God featured here is reader.)

😋 SACRILEGIOUS DOTTORE X DEITY!READER ???!!!!

I know I’ve been going for M.O.N.T.H.S but I came back to drop this and leave again. I was chatting with a dottore bot on character.ai which got my brain juices flowinggg so I had to open my computer and write this!

P.S: a certain part of this fic was inspired by one of hoyoverses other games *cough* HONKAI STAR RAIL *cough* 🤭. The real ones know which part it is ‼️💪

☆ CONTENT WARNINGS ☆

Death, gore, corpse, body horror aspects, sumeru archon quest spoilers

Dottore would admit that he wasn’t the least bit religious. Unlike the families that would give thanks before each meal and the Tsaritsa who believed Celestia should be struck down for trying to gain authority while You were absent, he couldn’t care less.

Afterall, however powerful they were, Archons could still die, so what was the difference between them when they all succumbed to the hands of death in the end? Was it power? No, he, himself, had created a being powerful enough to host the Gnosis of Kusanali, the Dendro Archon. Was it their life span? No, he, himself, had managed to create doubles of himself, all from different points in his life.

So in short, he didn’t spare a thought for the Archons, left alone The Creator. This, of course, did not help his nefarious reputation by any means, but he spared it no thoughts.

He did however grow curious about the abilities about this so called Creator when rumors about their descent started. Now, he finds himself in his main laboratory in the Tsaritsa’s palace with The Creator sitting on the examination table across from him- mind you, the cot that he had stained with blood just a week or two ago.

Now that he thinks about it, he never got around to cleaning it.

“Well?” The voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns to look at them.

They wear a veil made out of a material he’s never seen before. Its sheer enough for him to make out the outline of Their face if he squints, but not more than that. Their clothes are made of the same material and seem to flow and move on their own, as if gusts of wind are constantly blowing at their garments.

Even if They aren’t The Creator, they’re definitely something far from mortal.

“Your blood is certainly unlike any I’ve ever seen before. It’s as if you melted cor lapis and combined it with crushed star sliver, but it glows like lumenstone. I wonder if it has any affect on organisms of this world, or if it just looks like this and nothing else.” He observes.

They chuckle dryly, “why don’t you drink it and find out?”

He grimaces beneath his mask, he’d rather not chug down a nefarious bodily liquid at 2 in the morning from someone who he dosen’t care much for.

Not that They were unattractive, of course. He would go far enough to say They were probably the only one who made him take more than a few glances at. No hard feelings, he just dosen’t care much for The Creator… or fakers.

They seem to pick up his feelings about what They just said and glide down from the examination table.

“Or would you rather I show you some properties of my blood myself?” They ask, pointing their intricate fan towards the corpse of his previous patient across the lab from them.

That fan had gotten Pantalone and Ningguang into an amusing biding war against each other, each hoping to gift it to The Creator. In the end, The Creator caught wind of it and ended up setting up a business meeting to stop the nonsensical month-long biding war. They left with a blush on their face and both several times richer. Apparently The Creator had managed to get them to get along and turn the business meeting from about one about a fan to an important business meeting that helped both of them build important business connections with each other.

“Give me the vial,” They command.

He’s already walken over to Them and given Them the vial before he realizes what he did.

They pour the vial of their ichor over the corpse and it springs to life in an instant, screaming and moving away from Dottore.

It seems like the people they revive retain their memories, Dottore notes.

“Are you satisfied now? Or is there something more that you’re expecting?” They ask him. He can’t see their face through the veil but he gets the uncanny feeling that they’re staring straight through his very soul.

“I’ll admit that this is quite fascinating, however, it’s… unexpected, to say the least.” He admits.

“Oh? Why is that?” They drawl.

He gets the feeling that they’re probably smirking right now.

“While some legends do say that The Creator’s ichor heals and even resuscitates people, most them say that even a drop of The Creator’s ichor could bring about the cataclysm.

Once, he had wondered if that had been the start of the cataclysm, or if it was just another fabrication.

“Hm, is that how this world sees my ichor?” They hum, “well, every universe has different theories about me.”

“Oh? Then is it true? Can a drop of your ichor cause the end of this universe?” He says, teasingly, or mockingly- he dosen’t really know either.

“It depends on the mood I’m in,” They reply.

Yeah, They’re definitely smirking right now.

“But I suppose with the type of person you are, you wouldn’t believe me unless you saw it with your own eyes,” They say, snapping their fingers, “come, my darling Zandik.”

He raises his eyebrow at that. That definitely caught him off guard, all right, however, what catches him more off guard is the portal that appears in his lab.

He takes one last glance at his laboratory. This chance only comes once in a life time, after all. Even if They aren’t what They say They are, at least he’s getting some entertainment out of this.

He steps into the portal after them. Curiosity killed the cat, or whatever ridiculous saying there is, but he’s in one piece when he steps out of the portal.

He gives himself a quick glance over. No new limbs sprouting from his body.

He takes in his surroundings. He seems to be in a universe with buildings that look similar to Liyue’s but with flying ships and surrounded by more advanced technology than he can take in.

“Look.” The Creator commands, pointing to guards dresses in what he would assume is this world’s armor.

On a side note, they’ve arrived on a huge tree overlooking the middle of a battle.

Some soldiers crouch with their hands over their heads. Looking closer, Dottore can see branches sprouting from inside their armor, (their bodies?), and growing outwards. Slowly, they all collapse and become afflicted with the same condition as them, sprouting foliage from their bodies with a grotesque scream.

Sensing his confusion, The Creator launches into a story.

“Not many people know this, but I don’t create the universes and worlds all by myself. This world was a case where I got bored and decided to create another god, or Archon, as you call them in your world, to have them shape this world instead. Whilst they was shaping this world, they grew more and more attached to the mortals in this world. They approached me and told me that everytime a mortal that he loved past away, their heart grew heavier and heavier. They begged me for a sample of my ichor, believing that if the mortals started drinking my ichor in place of water, they would remain immortal and everlasting, just like me. I warned them of the risk but he stayed adamant. I loved them, so I gave them my blood.” The Creator seemed to wilt in sadness. “Instead of being ‘gifted’ eternal life like they thought the mortals would be, the mortals became struck with a curse where, when they died, their body would start decomposing like it would a normal dead one, but they were still alive. In a last ditch attempt to save their people, the god sacrificied themself to me, hoping that their sacrifice would convince me to help their people. I buried the god in the earth we’re on right now, and the power imbued in the earth was the cause of the foliage growing from the mortals… or immortals now, I suppose.”

“Dottore stayed silent for a few beats after their story, “then if you’re The Creator, will you ever die?”

“It depends on what your definition of ‘death’ is,” The Creator replied, “I’ve died millions of times, over and over again and will continue to do so, but then again, I’ve also never died a single time and will never die. I am not the god of life, death, and rebirth, I am the concept itself. Everything comes from me and everything will return to me in the end because I am everything.”

The Creator slowly removed their veil, and reality itself seemed to break the more of Their face that They revealed. They looked him in the eyes, and it felt like he was looking at everything and nothing at the same time. He could see the void in their eyes, a place of nothingness, but also everything that was happening in the universe at the same time.

They put their veil back on. “Well, did that satisfy your curiosity, my darling mad scientist?”

Dottore could feel his heart speed up, an unfamiliar feeling filling his chest- Oh Creator, is he religious now? Well, whatever he might be now, he thinks hes not so against drinking nefarious bodily liquid after all.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 13/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN ELEVEN TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

                “Hey Ice.”

                “Hi Bradley. Happy birthday.”

                “Thanks.”

                “How are you?”

                “Good. How are you?”

                “Can’t complain. Alive and kicking.”

                Bradley feels a little awkward talking to him now, his one remaining link to his old life. He wonders if it would be different if he was talking with Mav, or if they had something more in common than his dead father from over twenty years ago. All that though and he still makes the calls, Leandro and Silvia both giving him the stink-eye if he doesn’t and he knows at least that he doesn’t want to disappoint them. Short weekly calls when he’s at home in Italy mean they don’t expect him to spend a long time on the phone. He hasn’t called in a couple of months, not a fact he will be sharing with either Leandro or Silvia.

                “What have you been up to?”

                “Ah. Went to Spain for a couple of months. Worked in a kitchen there. Helped harvest grapes and make wine. Just… the usual.”

                “Usual for you maybe. Sounds quite idyllic.”

                “Well, butchering and curing meat isn’t idyllic at all, quite bloody and messy. So… the scenery was nice though. And I went to Barcelona for a couple of days, that was pretty cool.”

…            …            …

                He hadn’t intended to just blurt out an invitation to somehow define what they’re doing. Not to jump from casual sex to… Dating? To trying out a long-distance relationship? After only knowing each other for five days? It’s crazy. But sometimes crazy just works and god he hopes this is one of those times. So many things simply feel right about Jake and crazy has worked for him several times before.

                “I think you’re a little drunk.”

                “I’m not. Trust me, it takes more than a bottle of wine for me to get drunk.”

                “Yeah? You know that do you?”

                “Yes. Unfortunately.”

                Jake laughs and pulls into the grocery store parking lot, and Bradley’s hand is already on the seatbelt clasp, ready to go in. He’s shifted from thinking about convincing Jake to making a mental list of things he needs to get if he’s going to make the flourless chocolate cake for Maria, and some more food for breakfasts, lunches and dinners. Then he notices that Jake is also putting food in the cart and he purses his lips.

                “What are you doing?”

                “Well, I might not have a fancy cookbook to my name, but I can feed us. Just burgers, but we won’t starve. Come on. You’ve been cooking non-stop, you deserve a break.”

                Bradley doesn’t even bother trying to hold back, simply moves around the cart and brackets his arms on either side of Jake and kisses him, starting soft but it quickly turns harder before he hears someone cough and he pulls away, knows his cheeks will be flaming red and Jake is looking smug, one eyebrow arched.

                “I ain’t even cooked you anything yet…”

                Bradley just shakes his head, looks away and then studies the flecks in the linoleum floor. It’s not the food, it’s the thought behind the gesture and Jake doesn’t even seem to be trying to be charming, is just naturally thoughtful and sweet as well as being a bit of a spoiled brat and cocky asshole. All things he’s finding more and more endearing and attractive the better he gets to know him.

                Crazy indeed. God he wants.

…            …            …

                Everything to gain.

                The words turn around in his head every few minutes, like they’re going past of a merry-go-round. The fact Leo had meant it seriously means Jake is taking it seriously, wonders how he’d make it work exactly when his leave is so limited, the fact that he wants to see his family when he’s on leave. He might like Leo, a lot, but he loves his family. And it’s not like any of them can just pop up to New York and visit. If that’s what Leo is even suggesting. Leo did say he travels a lot, and if he’s willing to travel to where Jake is, then maybe it could work? Hell, he hasn’t mentioned certain things, not really wanting to bring it up with just a guy he was going to have a two-week long fling with.

                Except it’s potentially not a fling anymore. He studies Leo, who is reading and frowning at the backs of several different packets of chocolate. Jake wonders what he’s planning on making, considering just how much food he’s put into the cart already. He pulls out his phone and finally lets himself check the messages that Maria no doubt sent while he was walking to his truck. As he expected, a couple of messages from Maria;

>I like him and I think you two could be really good together. Don’t be an idiot.

>If you do decide to be an idiot I’m going to be his friend anyway.

                Okay then. Pretty clear exactly what Maria thinks of Leo, and to be honest she’s one of the harder nuts to crack when it comes to his sisters. Not that he was intending to introduce a potential… anything, but maybe that had been a little naïve. God, she’s never going to let him live this down if he and Leo somehow… end up something. Lord, was this ever just sex? Leo decisively dumps three blocks of one particular brand into the cart and gives Jake a grin and Jake has to bring it up.

                “So, I gotta ask. How do you envision us having a relationship exactly?”

                “Well… long distance mostly,” Leo says and Jake rolls his eyes, hip checks him and Leo just laughs, hip checks him back.

                “Yeah, no shit. And if it doesn’t work out?”

                “Then it doesn’t work out. As I said, got to at least try right? But we both have to at least want to try.”

                Jake wants to try.

                “Grocery store is a pretty odd place for such a serious conversation…”

                Leo shrugs.

                “Well, it’s neutral and it’s bit of a… transitionary space. Like having conversations in the car when you don’t have to look at the person.”

                “So you mean like we did on the drive here?”

                “Yeah, exactly.”

                “Okay.”

                “Okay?”

                “Yeah. Okay. I guess we’re… trying this whole dating for an intense two-week period and then going long distance. Give it a shot right?”

                Leo looks lit up from inside and Jake has to remind himself that they’re in the grocery store, but he can get them back to Leo’s place in about fifteen if they hustle.

                “Yeah?”

                “Yes,” Jake says, pushing the cart toward the checkouts. “Although, can I just say, if I’d had any idea that this was on the cards I wouldn’t have introduced you to Maria so early. For the record, I wouldn’t ask any guy I was dating to meet my sisters this early. Wouldn’t want to scare him off.”

                “Well, that horse has bolted don’t you think? Also, I don’t scare easy.”

                “Lucky for me…”

                “Plus, you’ve met Vi, she is by far the scariest member of my… oh. Shit.”

                “What?”

                “Nothing. Just… remembered something I should probably do. Sorry.”

                “Okay…?” Jake asks, because Leo is looking a little frustrated.

                “I’ll tell you later maybe. If it becomes a thing.”

                “Okay. Come on. I want to take the guy I’m apparently now dating to bed…”

                “Wow. Romance is gone already…”

                “Was there ever romance?” Jake asks jokingly, but also a little worried because he’s not romantic. His sisters tell him so constantly and he hasn’t tried with Leo because… it was just sex. Oh god. He’s failing at this before he even starts.

                “Enough for me…” Leo says, and he’s biting his lip and looking fucking adorable and something inside him untwists and he wishes the checkout operator would go a little faster. Then Leo insists on paying for the food and Jake scowls, tells him he’s getting the next shop and Leo just grins, eyes mischievous and he says we’ll see, gives him a quick kiss before taking off at a run with the cart, leaving Jake to run after him.

…            …            …

                Jake’s hands don’t seem to leave his body, which makes putting the groceries away that much more challenging, but he’s also not complaining, turning in the circle of his arms and raising an eyebrow expectantly.

                “Thought you were going to cook me dinner?”

                “I am. I will… just… dinner can wait…” Jake says against his neck and Bradley lets his head fall back, breathes in the scent of Jake, his sweat and the dust from working outside, savors the warmth of his skin. He rolls his hips, has been low-level aroused since their kiss in the grocery store, and Jake responds obligingly by grinding right back, slotting a thigh between Bradley’s legs.

                “Won’t take long.”

                “Yeah? Good. We can take our time again later,” Jake mutters, his teeth nipping and he lets out a groan. Maybe it’s a good thing they’ll have time apart, give Bradley time to recover, although he wonders if they’ll always be like this when they’re together, because it will always be a novelty, time together snatched and fiercely held onto, where they both make the most of it. He lets Jake shift him, bodily moving him towards the bedroom and it quickly become a bit more frantic, hands scrambling to touch bare skin beneath clothes and he just lets himself fall.

…            …            …

                He has never wanted to order takeout more, but he also said he’d cook Leo dinner and he’s a man of his word. But lying there, roughly wiped clean, catching their breath, Leo’s fingers lazily trailing up and down his back, soft smile on his face, Jake can’t help but feel pleased with himself. He likes that look on his face. Likes the feeling of everything from the last few days and fuck it’s going to suck saying goodbye. But the idea he might get to have this again? That’s something that will keep him going. Leo’s stomach rumbles then, and Jake shifts and blows a raspberry, making Leo squirm and shift away.

                “What are you doing?”

                “Communing with your stomach. Speaking its language.”

                Leo laughs again and Jake shifts away to standing, hunting around for underwear and jeans, pulls a clean t-shirt from his bag before deciding he might as well have a quick shower. He tugs Leo out of bed, ignores his grumbles about the promise of food and turns the water on, busies himself with kissing Leo while they wait for the water to warm up. It’s a nice way to pass the time before they’re both stepping into the shower and actually rinsing themselves off and it feels alarmingly and wonderfully domestic.

                “So… I’ve been thinking.”

                Jake turns and raises an eyebrow; he’s almost finished but apparently Leo has decided to wash his hair. So much for a quick shower.

                “Yeah? When? Hopefully not while I was trying my best to make you come…”

                “No,” Leo says. “Just before, lying in bed… and I haven’t looked into it, haven’t had time obviously, but depending on where and when you have shore leave, I could potentially meet you there.”

                Jake’s hands still with the quick rub-down wash he was giving himself.

                “You’d travel to see me for thirty-six hours?”

                “You might get forty-eight.”

                “You’d travel though?”

                “Well, as I said. I haven’t looked into it, but if I could get a work gig either side of your leave, then… yeah. I would.”

                “Holy shit.”

                “I mean, no promises. But I’ve got pretty good incentive huh?”

                “My dick’s that good huh?”

                “You’re a dick…” Leo mutters, but his half-hidden smile makes the insult completely pointless.

                “Your dick,” Jake replies with a grin, and the smile Leo gives him is beautiful.

FORTEEN

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 38

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

only the dead have seen the end of war by @kartoffxl [MCD]

Lance must have seen something in Keith’s face, because his expression crumpled in anguish. “You… You love me back.” He put his head in his hands. “Oh my god. You loved me. You love me. This—This is so fucked up.” “Lance, I—” “Tell me I’m wrong.” There were tears in his eyes. “Tell me we didn’t just waste all those years being cowards.” Keith clenched his fists at his sides, still reeling from the whiplash of what he had just heard earlier. This can’t be happening. “Say it!” Lance pressed. “Say you don’t love me.” Please, his eyes begged. Keith and Lance finally figure out that they’re absolutely, undeniably, embarrassingly in love with each other, just not exactly in the best of circumstances.

okay so. this is. technically. one of the meaner fics im reccing. HOWEVER. it is gaspingly unbelievably beautifully and painfully written. even the summary kills me -- say you dont love me. im begging you. im begging you to lie to me right now. as we lay dying im begging you to have mercy on me and let me believe i didnt have a chance for beauty with you. im begging you to let me die with one regret instead of millions. please. please dont let me die being loved by you. LIKE WHAT

2. Toast to Freedom by @icypantherwrites

Keith is used to more than his fair share of dark looks. What he’s not used to is seeing those looks directed at Lance for no reason that he can determine and it’s making something uneasy settle in his stomach and the heavy press of the mantle of leader weigh even heavier as he should be doing something about it but he doesn’t know what. But causing a scene will upset the alliance they need and so Keith chooses to wait it out, to address it after the feast. He should never have waited.

will never ever in my life get over to 'i drank your poison because no suffering would be worse than watching it on you' not ever. it is always so so everything. and NO ONE does it like icy panther

3. Disjointed Soul by @icypantherwrites

Lance falls victim to a Soul Leecher, a dark spirit that is drawn to disjointed souls to steal them for itself. The Paladins must go into Lance's very soul to save him, uncovering truths about themselves and Lance in the process. Time is of the essence before Lance is lost forever. Good thing they have such helpful, adorable soul guides.

"Hi there baby Lance," Hunk greeted. "Ohwah," Lance burbled back. "¡Ohwah!" "Ohwah?" Pidge repeated. "I think he's saying "hola,'" Hunk grinned. "You know, "hello" in Spanish. Hola, baby Lance." "¡Ohwah! ¡Ohwah!"

this is one of THEEEE original insecure lance fics fr like it was the BLUEPRINT. 2018 there wasnt a langst loving soul who hadnt read this at least twice. its not too long for my dears w shoddy attention spans but its long enough to have quite a bit of substance!! team as family with communication and lance at the centre of it. what more do u want

4. Sleep Well, My Son by @icypantherwrites

A tiny accident becomes literal when Lance is turned into a child with no recollection from his older self. Coran has hopes the effects will be relatively short-term, but in the meantime he has a scared child that needs both reassurance and care. And while Coran might not have had the chance to be a father… he feels like one now.

look i love a good de aged lance fic and obviously when i was making these bookmarks i was scrolling my way thru the tag. and this one is especially amazing bc it is coran centred! this is a coran fic! this is a fic about quiet grief in the life you never got to live and acceptance for the life you have now and love for the people life has brought you!! it is about coran finding family through people who so desperately need it!! it is everything!!

5. Amigos by @icypantherwrites

A dangerous mission becomes even moreso when Lance is turned into a child with no recollection of his older self in the middle of it. Keith has never been good with kids and that certainly isn’t going to change now. Somehow though he’s got to convince Lance — who doesn’t speak a word of English and is staring at Keith with too wide, too scared of eyes — to come with him, get them both out of the Galran base now crawling with sentries alive, and then, assuming they get that far, figure out how to change Lance back.

shut up about the repeated author shut up about the same trope shut up about the. okay. i am a simple creature. i am annoying. i like to sit on my little armchair and open my little phone and read the same thing a million times. there is a Way to read fic and that way is to click on and scroll through a tag until you find a fic you like then scroll through that author and then go back to the tag and rinse and repeat. besides this fic is amazing okay i love klance but we rarely get platonic klance and its GOOD okay

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!