#OCTOBER NEEDS TO ARRIVE SOONER

[yeyayeya]

I really am sorry by annoying my non-TGCF mutuals/followers by reblogging so much shit about it and screaming but I’ve been waiting for this for so long

Imma become MORE annoying when the first episode of Season 2 releases

I cannot emphasize how fucking happy, excited, and thrilled I am because of it

sorry not really sorry

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

I am so excited to present this Hocus Pocus inspired AU requested by the lovely @jackofallrabbits! The boys star as the witchy brothers who return once a fated reader lights the starry candle. They simply must show their gratitude! And what better day to post such a spooky and fun fic than on Friday the 13th?!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.

———

You turn the key and cut the engine of your car. With a flick, you turn off the headlights. The beginning of a sunset swoops down onto your ill-adjusted vision. The horizon is drenched in purples and oranges as shadows begin to crawl off of trees and their yellowed leaves. It will take a minute or two for your sight to adapt, but you have tilted and revolved the structure waiting just at the edge of the forest within your mind’s eyes for days now. It’s beyond the dirt road you’ve pulled onto the shoulder of.

Blinking slowly, you find the house’s dark silhouette through the boughs of clustered trees, and you sigh at the beauty of its preserved history.

The building is an artifact dating back roughly to the 1630s. A post-medieval English-style home, it contains two stories with an overhanging jetty and stunning clapboard siding that has survived a little under four centuries of existence. Your eyes catch on the windows and your heart sings at the sight. Diamond-paned casement. And there, decorative pendants of celestial bodies, including iron-casted suns, moons, and overlapping symbols of the two. The steeply pitched roof is common for the era and is more renowned in its descendant the saltbox form, but this style boosts its spooky aura.

The Puritan colonists were the ones responsible for importing the style to America as they landed here on the eastern coast. 

It’s no stretch of the imagination to think of witches and execution trials while gazing over the beautiful home. You’re particularly intrigued by the history of the Salem witch trials, and as a historian, you couldn’t deny yourself the chance to enter the building and feed the gnawing need to stand within a piece of history.

Stepping out of your car, a gust of wind carrying the bitter edge of autumn cuts through your brown sweater. You shiver and shut the door as quietly as you can manage. This is hallowed ground. This will supply your ever inquisitive mind which is always looking to the past with a curiosity most insatiable.

You face the home. A footpath lightly serpentines between the trees. Hooligans with destructive tendencies and teenagers on dares will venture here for a spooky, fun time, but are usually caught by the police because the building sits on private property. You asked for permission from the owner of the hundreds of acres of forest land that includes the so-called “Witch House” if you might enter the premises. Given your credentials, you were certain the owner would trust you with exploring the home.

Much to your relief, the owner agreed. 

You look up, arms clutching your knitted sleeves to fight the chill of an October breeze, in awe and reverence. 

From your pocket, you slip out a wrought-iron key with the symbol of the moon overlapping the sun to form a black eclipse and marvel again at the intricacy of ancient beauty. Your fingertips grow chilled in the late hour. The sun shifts from orange to dark, bleeding red like blood from a heart spilled across the horizon. You walk towards the home. 

Perhaps you should have arrived sooner. You were caught in another historical journal depicting the specific timeframe of when this home would have been occupied by its original inhabitants. 

The rumors even now speak of curses and cursed artifacts within the building. Some of it is true—you have confirmed with your own scholarly sources. The original owners were a trio of brothers. They were accused of witchcraft and hanged for the crimes. That much is historically documented and verified. 

What is fantasy is the tale of the brothers casting a curse with their dying breaths, declaring they would one day return if a virgin lit a starry candle on the anniversary of their executions.

Superstition. Most likely, the fear of the townspeople transcended to their children, and their children, down and down until it became a tale to spin on Halloween night around these parts. 

The door is black as you approach it. A stray branch catches on your sweater, pulling on a thread, and you yank yourself free and silently mourn the roughen fabric before returning your attention to what really matters. You must be careful. This entire place is iconic and in need of preservation. 

You slip the key into the lock hole and turn it with a thick, heavy click before the black wood door groans and slides inwards as if inviting you into its sphere. You take a breath. Your boots cross the threshold and you enter the home. 

As is typical of some homes built in the early seventeenth century, an open hall greets you. In the far back is the fireplace with a cauldron still sitting upon an ashy bed. An original wood-carve table and chairs are set to one side as a staircase climbs up into the darkness of the second level. What little red light leaks inside is narrowed and cut up into diamonds by the panes. To one wall, shelves contain dusty and forgotten cooking utensils, once glimmery copper pots, and dinner dishes with designs considered much too gawky in the Puritan era but it causes you to softly gasp.

Your hand covers your mouth as you gaze around you, overwhelmed with the beautiful intricacies of metallic chandeliers holding half-burned tallow candles, and to the other wall lies a bookshelf covered in cobwebs as if the spiders refuse to let anyone examine such precious reads. Your fingers already itch to gently pry out one manuscript and gaze at the original script of whoever wrote it.

But the light—it’s far too dark now. The red has given way to blue and pale indigo. You squint. You reach into your other pocket for a lighter and flick it on. The tiny flame spouts a delicate light. Never would you dare admit this out loud to a living soul, but you so desperately wish to see the home in its authentic state, lit only by the technology the brothers had at the time: fire.

There are thick, yellowed candles lying on the table and clustered together on the narrow window sills. You have no hope of reaching the metal chandeliers but you do spy a candelabra positioned near the bookshelf on a small end table. You light it first with a careful touch of your lighter flame. The wick catches, even after all of these years. You smile softly, your heart warm within your chest as you bask in the essence of this beautiful place.

A few more candles should suffice. 

You slip to the table to light the thick and tall candles. The flames bloom and warm the space in rich light, casting thick shadows from support beams. You almost set your lighter away when you spy one last candle set upon a golden candle holder. The fashioned metal twists and twines with elaborate engravings of shooting stars and slices of sun rays were placed in the corner of the room almost out of sight. The curiosity within you urges you to take a step, then another, and another. You stand in front of the almost forgotten candle.

The tallow is black as midnight. Strange. How did they color this? Embedded within the darkness are speckles of white, splattering the candle like an array of stars. Your eyes stray in search of constellations before shaking your head.

It’s true. There is a starry candle. Perhaps the brothers did dabble in the occult, playing with cards and fortune telling, and being punished with death for their interest in unholy magic. 

The wick is dark and untouched as if it were never lit before. You bring the lighter flame closer. Superstition might worry another, but you concern yourself with logic and reason—explanations of humanity rather than inexplicable forces beyond comprehension. 

Something stirs from a nearby corner shelf. Two long ears twitch. You catch a glimpse of a rabbit with creamy white fur just before it leaps off of the shelf and directly onto your arm. You yelp. Nearly dropping the lighter, you scramble back as the rabbit hits the floor, collects itself, and sits on its haunches.

Green eyes glare up at you. The rabbit, small and bunny-like, stays firmly between you and the starry candle.

You stand with your chest heaving and your lungs scraping out air, almost burning your thumb on the lighter flame before turning around yourself. Where did the woodland creature come from? Did it crawl its way inside like a rat and become trapped within the colonial home? The shot of adrenaline still flowing through your veins leaves your hands shaking.

The rabbit is still watching you with uncanny eyes. Prey animals so rarely stare back at bigger, larger threats. Perhaps it’s a pet. A runaway pet that somehow ended up here, of all places.

You slowly offer out your hand, keeping the lighter away in your other, as you take a step towards it.

It thumps a foot once, as if in warning, then bounds away. You watch it disappear into the house, still reeling from the fright it gave you. 

If Michael was here, he would have laughed and told you to leave with him, now. He never wanted you to go here, especially alone, but you shake such ominous warnings away. He said curiosity killed the cat. You disagreed. This house is a part of history, not a curse. Witches are mere stories, conjured out of historical unrest and the longing to blame bad luck and tragedies upon an individual or three. 

There’s always an explanation for fear superstition or mistrust. It’s far more sad than it is spooky.

You shake your head, smooth out the creases in your sweater, and face the starry candle again. The lighter flame flickers softly as you draw near it.

It is the anniversary of the brothers’ executions. You remember now as the shadows from other candles drape over you like a veil. You are also a virgin.

You laugh to yourself, covering your mouth as you do so. Look at you! You’re getting so worked up because a rabbit jumped at you.

It’s only hocus-pocus.

You tilt the lighter until it engulfs the wick. The flame catches, and you at last snap the lighter shut and return it to your pocket. Your eyes squint slightly at the candle. The wick snaps and bursts into sparks. The flame is not yellow or orange or even blue—it’s pure white like a comet streaking across the sky.

A crack of thunder splits the night sky with a bellow so monstrous, you feel like a child again, fearing a storm. You drop low to the ground, shielding your head as if the very world was going to fall upon you. A spark cracks in the fireplace, conjured out of ash underneath the cauldron before it burns hot and bright. The cauldron immediately begins roiling and bubbling with water. Laughter, great and terrible, and filled with the most jester-like joy sweeps over the room.

The pulse in your ears drowns at any sense but the need to hide. You scramble into the corner, tucking yourself behind the stand of the starry candle and hunker down. Holding your breath, you grab a fistful of your sweater while clutching your chest, and watch the door to the almost 400-year-old house fly open.

Three figures stride inside, looking about the place with wide eyes and disk-like heads framed in jutting adornments not unlike sun rays or shrouded in a heavy, dark blue hood.

“Brothers! We’re home!” The first one, tall and dark with deep red hues to his form, accent in sharp orange sun rays and an eclipse upon his face, turns to face his brother with bright, cat-like yellow eyes. “Isn’t it glorious?”

Another figure steps forward, yellow and off-white. Pale eyes beam. His head is crowned in bright sun rays as well. His spindly fingers twindle together in exuberant energy while he glances about the room eagerly. “Oh, yes, yes! More than anything! It’s as if we weren’t gone for more than a day—though the dust and cobwebs beg to differ.”

He draws a claw—you suck in a sharp breath—along the table’s edge and rubs his taloned fingertips together in disappointment. 

“We must get to cleaning at once.”

“No,” the last figure fixes his hood with silvery digits. Golden jewels hang down the back of his unusual skull, the last and most prominent adornment a thick, golden star pendant. His eyes cast around the room, scarlet, and searching. “We must thank the little mouse who lit the candle.”

He flashes sharp teeth within his wide mouth, shaping it into a hungry grin. You gulp.

“Where are our manners?” The red and dark one twists back to the room with a flourish of his arms. His yellow gaze sweeps over the shelves and floors with a blade-like glint. “Of course, we must thank one so lovely.”

A dark cape drapes about his person. Underneath, a white flowing shirt hangs loosely to his lithe and slender figure, causing you to balk upon staring at such an exposed chest. The other two are no different, wearing similar shirts and dark trousers, but the hooded one bears a thick, longer cape while the sunny figure shares a cape similar to the first.

The yellow one lifts his wrists and frowns at the red ribbons tied around them. Golden bells jingle softly in an ominous chord. 

“How terrible a reminder of our current impermanence,” he growls low in his throat, all cheerfulness lost and causing you to squeeze your ribs in fear.

“Patience, Sun,” the red one speaks, though he too casts a narrowed glance to the black ribbons and golden bells adorning his wrists. “We will affix ourselves back to this world in due time.”

“Eclipse, what a delicious creature I smell.” The hooded figure steps deeper into the home. Blue claws scratch at equally blue ribbons knotted to his hand bones but his attention is terrifyingly fixed on the candle stand just above your hiding spot. 

You shrink further into the corner.

“Yes, Moon? And how lovely?” Eclipse, you assume, asks. His yellow eyes flash.

“As lovely as the stars,” Moon answers.

You watch claws curl around the wooden side of the candle stand, scratching deeply into the wood before a half-moon face emerges from behind, teeth set like a predator’s upon the sight of a wounded animal. Your heart flutters like a bird with a broken wing.

“Hello, little mouse. Won’t you come and play with us?” 

You scream as he leaps behind the candle stand, takes you by the arms, and pulls you to your feet. You struggle to free yourself, crying out as he grabs hold of your wrists and fixes you firmly in place. 

“My, how sweet,” he purrs in a dangerously low voice that rolls in the back of his throat. “You are the darling virgin who lit the candle, no?”

“Let me go!” You thrash but Moon grins in delight, as if you’re simply too precious. 

“You deserve proper thanks,” He lowers one hand, forcing you to submit with slightly bent knees. “Here is my gratitude, little mouse.”

You freeze as he brings your hand towards his mouth, and a hundred, horrifying visions of him biting your fingers off or sinking his teeth in your palm send your blood into a frozen sludge of fear.

The witch, however, presses a kiss to the center of your palm. The softness catches the gears in your mind and jerks them to a halt.

“Thank you for allowing us to return once more,” he rasps. His scarlet eyes find yours between the space of your thumb and forefinger, and a strange stirring takes hold of your middle.

“This isn’t real,” you breathe. Dizziness begins to take hold.

This must be a dream, a thought gone wild, or inhaled bacteria triggering hallucinations.

Moon’s grin widens. He lowers your hand, loosening his hold for one precious moment. You rip your hands free of his grasp. A low growl escapes him but you’ve already slipped away, your eyes upon the door and spilling with the need to rush out into the night, away from the impossibilities standing before you—

Arms snatch your waist and lift your feet from the ground. You gasp. 

Held in the air, you squirm before a hot breath dusts the shoulder of your sweater. You fall still, your throat bobbing as a mouth presses into the corner of your neck and lays a kiss on the sensitive spot. Gooseflesh prickles up and down your body.

“I assure you, I’m very real, little mouse,” Moon purrs. His hands squeeze your hips once. “And as nice as this… attire is, I would dress you in blues and silvers. You would look proper and powerful, like my brothers and I.”

A squeak escapes you. You shrink against him, caught in his embrace.

“Brothers?” The word rattles out of your throat. 

“This is our home,” Moon whispers. “And you are our most honored guest.”

You manage to pry off his hands from your waist. With a sinister chuckle, the blue and silver hands release you. Without looking back, you run, ignoring the twinge in your stomach that whispers it was too easy to get away.

You hardly get a few steps before the sunny one—Sun—steps into your path. He catches you in his arms and spins you in a waltz at breakneck speed, your feet never touching the ground, before stopping without warning as he dips you low. He looms above you, his smile filled with sharp teeth.

“Let me get an eyeful. Oh, yes, you look good enough to eat,” he simpers. His hand splays along the small of your back and you gawk up at him, still trying to regain your balance after the sickness-inducing whirl. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.”

“I just want to leave,” you whimper. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Sunshine,” he laughs, and it echoes with all of his heart—do once-hanged witches have a heart? There is no historical journey to give context to this very moment, you fear.

He lowers his sultry gaze to you. “I wish to only thank you. And I intend to.”

He pulls you back to your feet. You’re still clasped in his embrace like lovers on a ballroom floor. His hand hooks tight to your hip, and his other catches the side of your face. Heat spreads through the marrow of your bones.

On the tabletop beside you, something white moves across the plane of its surface, hunkering behind the thick stack of candles still burning.

His head lowers to your neck. You stiffen as he tilts your head away, opening you to his parting teeth. A tongue, dark and sinuous, flicks out of his maw. A gasp slips from your lips at the wet lick up the column of your throat. Eyelids fluttering, you start to sag as weakness fills your knees. He drags his tongue higher to taste your jawline and finishes at your cheek with a swipe for good measure. 

Your hands find him and clutch tightly to his slender arms. He presses his lips to your ear and with a misty warmth, whispers.

“Thank you for—Gah!”

The white rabbit leaps up from the table, squirming directly between you and his chest, breaking you apart. Instinctively, you jump away just as Sun snarls. The heart-wrenching sound shakes your entire frame as he snatches the rabbit by the scruff before it can scramble back from his wretched claws.

“I’ll boil you alive!” he thunders. He steps towards the cauldron, back where Moon leans against the wall, watching the spectacle with an amusing twitch of his grinning maw. Behind you, Eclipse stands at the door like a sentinel, his eyes still hungry and even furious as he follows his brother’s movement to the cauldron. 

Sun dangles the rabbit, now struggling and kicking but unable to find purchase against the witch’s hold, above the boiling water of the caldron.

“No!” you cry.

Sun’s eyes widen. He turns back to you just as you close the distance and scoop the rabbit in your arms. His claws, pale-boned and wickedly curved, clench around emptiness. Without thought, you turn and run again though there is little hope as you come to the door. Your boots stamp against the wooden floorboards.

The rabbit in your embrace turns its face up to you and mutters in a woman’s voice, “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

You gawk, stunned before hands catch you by the shoulders. You’re brought to a dead halt. The rabbit leaps from your arms, drops to the floor, and races away into a shadowy corner of the room with only one glimpse of its fluffy tail before you’re left alone.

You twist and face the eldest witch’s attention. Eclipse. His yellow eyes go up and down your body, and you watch in muted shock as two additional arms emerge from the shadows of his cap. He forces you backward, one step after the other until your back is pinned against a dusty wall.

You stare into his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. Your pulse pounds in your eardrums.

“I don’t believe this is happening,” you utter.

The witch tilts his head with a wicked grin.

“We’ll make you a believer yet.” He promises, and his deep cords vibrate through your form. “My dear, we simply must thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

His claws slip over your collarbones. Your breath quickens, a stirring you cannot name unfolding deep within your middle. His extra set of hands fall to your hips and begin caressing the bones. Daintily, carefully, his warm fingertips slip just underneath the hem of your sweater, touching your bare flesh. A shiver runs down your entire body, leaving you to squirm.

“Be a good little comet,” he says softly, “Let me pour my gratitude all over you.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t know it was true,” you stare into his face, marked with a red crescent over a dark shadow, and his eyes pierce into the very nature of your being. “You’re back.”

“Because of you,” he rumbles softly in his chest. His grin pulls higher at the corners.

His claws slip over the nap of your neck and card gently into the small, sensitive hairs at the bottom of your skull. You breathe in. His eyes brighten in pleasure before he slips his sharp but controlled talons over the shells of your ears and follows the arch of your cheekbone. His gaze drops to your lips. Your heart thumps and thumps against your sternum so powerfully, you fear he may hear it.

His lips pull over his razor-sharp teeth and you stop breathing.

His other set of hands begins working up the sides of your torso. He rubs slowly and gently, but you squirm despite this. He touches you far too intimately when you have never experienced such affections before. A mewl escapes your lips. You wriggle as he refuses to relent. 

In answer, his upper hands lower and capture your hands together in one, and pin them above your head to hold you in place. He coos, chastising. A great roil starts in your stomach and expands upwards until your face becomes pink and flushed.

“Hold still, little comet,” he chuckles, and you whimper. “I’m not finished with showering you in all my adoration.”

“Eclipse,” your breath is harsh and hot.

“It is good to hear my name upon such lovely lips,” his voice lowers, husky and scorching. “I knew a virgin would light the candle. I swore it to my brothers as they set us on the gallows and draped nooses around our necks. You are our light, our savior. How could I ever thank you?”

In his words, his burning stare that singes with sincerity, it clicks into place. All at once, you believe what you are seeing with your own two eyes. 

It’s true. He’s back. He and his brothers have returned with magic.

“I have questions,” you say hesitantly in your demureness, “I want answers.”

“Of course,” Eclipse agrees easily. “But first…”

A dark claw brushes your hair back from your face. The flutter in your heart can’t seem to hold still. Eclipse’s grin widens and his eyes soften.

“You have freckles like constellations,” he murmurs in the manner of one gazing at the night sky or one studying an ornate painting.  

Before you can shape words to reply, to say anything that might free you from his grasp, his mouth is upon yours. A sound softly catches in the back of your throat. You fall still under his caressing hands still moving below your sweater. He traces the row of your ribs. You have just enough mind to wonder if he feels your skin prickle in your sensitivity. His other hand clasps your wrists tighter. You gasp against his teeth. 

He pulls gently, hungrily, taking you as if a bite of honeycomb. You become melted honey, easily malleable between his teeth and then molded by his mouth. His tongue invades you. You moan softly at the claim he lays upon you until you become weak in the knees and almost fall. His kiss seals your fate.

He releases you from his maw. You sink slightly, and his arms fall out from under your sweater to properly catch you. He lowers your wrists, returns your hands, and brushes your hair once more from your face.

A chuckle emits from his lips, and you burn.

“You’ll stay with us, won’t you?” he asks, but he waits for no answer as he scoops you into his arms. Feet dangling, you have no choice but to cling to his shoulders and endure his brothers’ attention as he twists around and faces them.

The rabbit’s right. You are in trouble. Michael warned you. He said curiosity killed the cat.

But charm brought it back.

[moonhoures]

All Of Me

🕷️ kinktober — day 7: breeding kink / creampie 🕸️

pairing: jooheon (monsta x) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: idol!au, mild angst, fluff, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, mention of pregnancy (but no actual pregnancy), mention of joo’s military enlistment

word count: ~2.1k

synopsis: you and your idol bf tenderly enjoy one more night together before his enlistment

a/n: dedicating this to my fav jooheon stan @carronpatrick 💕 hope you enjoy it 🫂 also, there’s not much of a breeding kink aspect to this, i’ve realized, so i removed that from the tagline 🙃

posted: october 7, 2023

kinktober masterlist

So here it was. The day you had been dreading ever since you and Jooheon first started dating. On top of dealing with the hardships of dating an idol—a very successful and famous one at that—you also had to deal with his leaving for military service. He reminded you of it every once in a while, and for the longest time it felt so far away. But now the day had arrived on your doorstep with no remorse, no empathy.

“Don’t look so sad,” your boyfriend tried to lighten the mood as you two sat at the edge of your bed. He had come over to spend the night with you and pick up some of his things from your apartment. He was set to leave for his enlistment two days from now, so this was the last day you had him all to yourself until he would go, “Eighteen months will pass faster than you think. And it’s not like we won’t be able to see or talk to each other.”

“I know,” you put all your energy into speaking with no sign of distress, but your voice betrayed you with a wobble. Jooheon frowned a little, resting his arm around your shoulders as you started to sniffle and tears pricked at your eyes.

“I’ll talk to you as often as I can. That’s a promise. You remember I made you that promise the first year we dated,” he reminded you of that night. Of course, the memory was engrained in your mind like a movie you had just seen yesterday—most of your memories with him were. You recalled you two sitting on the couch, sipping on some beer and eating take-out. He had just finished a media run for Monsta X’s most recent comeback, and he had finally got a night off to spend with you. The topic of his enlistment came up and brought down the mood, but somehow Jooheon always knew what to say to make you feel better.

“_________, I promise, on everything I own and love, that during my enlistment I will use any means and any time I have to talk to you, first and foremost,” even a little tipsy, with his hands jokingly on his chest and in the air (respectively), he managed to say those words so sincerely. You had no choice but to trust his words back then. And even now, you trusted him with everything you had.

“I feel so dumb for crying. It’s not like you’re leaving forever,” you wiped your eyes with the back of your hands, and the smallest smile finally cracked your lips when his laugh sounded from beside you.

“Exactly,” he said, “I’ll be back sooner than you think. And I’ll be sure to set aside lots of time just for us. Just for you,” he corrected himself, pressing a kiss to your head. When you looked up at him, his eyes softened at the redness and teariness in your own. His hand reached up to hold your chin still while he leaned down to give you a tender kiss.

It was a wonder that Jooheon always knew what to say in every situation, but especially without saying anything at all. It was like he spoke with his body language too. Because the kiss he gave you then seemed to whisper it’ll be okay. His other hand holding your waist assured you i’ll always be here when you need me, even if i’m not physically here. The way he rested his forehead against yours after pulling away said i’ll always be yours.

“When you get back-” you started speaking tentatively, and to your surprise, your words came out more confident than before, “-we’re not leaving this bed for a few days, at least. You understand?”

His brows raised and his dimples made an appearance as he chuckled. He nodded, biting his lip subtly before replying, “I was already planning on that. Make sure you have the condoms stocked when I get back.”

As he leaned in for another kiss, your hands were holding onto the fabric of his shirt, feebly attempting to keep him closer, “But I wanna feel you when you get back. Not latex.”

You tried not to smirk against his lips when you felt a low rumble from his chest into his throat.

“Fuck, don’t get me started, _______,” he whined, his hand already going back to your face. His fingers caressed your jaw as his eyes traced between your eyes and lips. Everything in him was begging to have you in that moment.

“Come on, Joo. One more time before you go?” you breathed out against his cheek in between the kisses you pressed to it.

You could feel his breathing getting heavier, and one glance at his lap let you know he was at least considering it. You tested the waters by leaning down and kissing under his jaw, his weak spot. You hummed, “Please.”

Your boyfriend merely groaned in response before he was taking your face in his hands, bringing your lips to his in an abrupt, smashing kiss. He took control easily, you always melted into putty in his hands. You molded to him in any way he manipulated you. He had eased you onto your back, your thighs at the edge of the bed as he continued to make out with you fervently.

Despite how tender and careful he was in his touches, there was an underlying, waiting sense of ferociousness. Like he was waiting for the perfect moment to unleash on you. And you couldn’t wait for the moment to come. You tried to coax it from him, using your fingers to grip at his back. You urged him closer with the rocking of your hips, with the nudging of your feet against his ass. He simply chuckled at your attempts, finding you cute when you were so desperate for him.

He whispered sweet nothings to you as you both discarded your clothing, utters of how beautiful you looked. How good you would feel. How he already couldn’t wait to come back even though he hadn’t left yet. Before the sadness could settle in you again, you were moaning at the feeling of his bare cock resting over your pelvis. His lips peppered kisses all over your chest as his hand pumped his erection in preparation for you. He smiled to himself when you started to move your hips up, quietly exhorting him to fuck you.

“Are the condoms still in the drawer?” he asked you, starting to peel himself away so he could go get them.

You stopped him, hands holding onto his biceps for dear life, “We don’t need to use them. If this is the last time we do this before you go, I want to feel you, Jooheon. Just you.”

Your boyfriend’s dick twitched, and he leaned back down to capture your lips again. He was so whipped for you. His heart skipped a beat when he felt your body pressed up against his. When he heard the sounds you made for him. When he felt how wet you were already. His fingertips swiped up your slit, and he relished in the airy moans you let out before he circled your clit.

“I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me,” he said, watching your resolve crumble beneath his touch, “It’s been so long since we did it raw.”

It was; over a year, in fact. And it nearly didn’t happen at all. The two of you were getting hot and heavy in his car one day on a road trip, and had gotten to the best part before realizing neither of you had a condom on you. After a minute of panic, you decided to say fuck it and went through with your actions anyway. But you lived in anxiety afterwards. You weren’t really nervous about getting pregnant with Jooheon’s kid, though being pregnant at all did make your stomach sink. But you were more so nervous about tarnishing Jooheon’s career and/or reputation. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you were the cause of such turmoil. Luckily, you didn’t fall pregnant, but you two swore not to do it with condom again until you were both sure that’s what you wanted to do. Now just felt right.

“I want to feel you,” you repeated eagerly, getting impatient. You could feel him lining up at your entrance, his hand still stroking his erection.

“You’ll feel me, baby. All of me.”

Boy, did you. You sucked in a breath as he sunk between your folds, filling you to the brim with his thick length. You watched his face screw up with a disgruntled expression as he felt your tight walls constrict him. He forgot how good you felt like this.

“Holy shit,” he grunted.

You smiled, urging him to start thrusting by pulling on his waist with your hands. Your nails lightly dug into his skin. He hissed while he pulled out, barely keeping his tip in before thrusting back into you slowly. His hips bucked into yours in a growing rhythm. Heavy breaths and the sounds of wet kissing surrounded you two. It was like the two of you made lustful music when you made love. That’s what it always was with him. “Fucking” didn’t sound right to Jooheon. If he was going to have sex with you, he was going to pour in every ounce of his love and appreciation for you that he could muster.

He drilled into you, but his lips were soft and smooth in the way they touched your body, wherever they could reach. He made sure to tell you how good you made him feel and how well you took him. Little did you know that it was mostly because he could feel the effect it had on you. Every touch, every kiss, every word had your insides fluttering, your pussy clenching on him as if he would disappear if you didn’t. In a way, he was going to disappear, you supposed.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” you pouted, feeling that sinking sensation in your stomach as you felt tears welling up in your eyes again.

Jooheon’s hips faltered as he made eye contact with you. His orbs began to mirror yours briefly before he pulled himself together. He continued to thrust into you, softer than before, “I’ll miss you so much more, trust me. I’m gonna think about you every second of every day. Gonna count down the minutes until I can see you again.”

“Joo,” you moaned as you felt your climax building in your lower belly. Your leg muscles were tensing up from the impending sensation.

“Baby,” he whimpered, on the brink of his own release. This was the only bad part of not using a condom; you felt too good. There was no way in hell he could last as long as he usually did. All he could do was hope that you would want round two, and maybe a round three, or four . . .

“Want you to cum inside.”

“I will,” he nodded, eyelids closing tight as he shuddered. He was so close, “Gonna take it all?”

“Mhm,” you hugged around his shoulders, drawing him close until his forehead was on yours. He pressed a haphazard kiss to your nose out of passion, and you chuckled softly.

“Fuc-“ he couldn’t even finish before he was cumming, painting your core. He shook under your touch, his strength wavering under the weight of his orgasm. “Holy shit, that feels so good. You feel so good. I wish you could feel this the way I do.”

Your head was spinning from the way he talked you through it. You could only moan out his name as you came after him, his warmth filling you up sending you over the edge, “Oh my God.”

“That’s it,” he kissed your neck, then he leaned down to hug you properly. It felt oddly nice having his body weight on you, like a comforting blanket.

You would miss this. Not just the love-making, but all of it. Him. You would miss him. It was hard enough being away from him most days due to his job, but having him be unavailable for long periods of time was going to be a form of hell. All you wanted to do was have him like this all the time. All to yourself. You wanted to be able to kiss him and hold him whenever you felt like it. You didn’t want to worry about him up and leaving at any time for any reason. You wanted to have him completely. Was it still selfishness if it was out of pure, uncontainable love?

“Eighteen months,” you didn’t realize you had said it out loud until Jooheon pulled away to regard you with a crestfallen nod.

“Eighteen months,” he confirmed. You prayed that it would be the fastest year and six months of your life.

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @abby-grace @odisdad @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite

[socksandbuttons]

Swap AU Stuff

Alright let's jsut try getting down basics maybe

Also this maybe long actually.

The obvious Swaps Lunar and Eclipse: Basically how we meet them in episode. I legit went along with thinking this Eclipse wasn't memory wiped the whole time so thats kinda- in the air a bit. But Lunar being the original body (I have a post showing how Eclipse looked then), Eclipse with the one he made (to be taller. He can't stand being small... Well shorter than anyone really. A shame he has Bloodmoon towering over him.) The Glamrocks: They are as Swapped so Chica is Freddy, Freddy is Roxy, Roxy is Monty and Monty is Chica (I love them immediately after giving them luscious hair im sorry). Rox and Sun are friends and he's quite protective of Sun, also a cowboy cause swap au/Foxy etc. Digi in the discord came up with this and i died cause it was so good actually. Eclipse and Lunar still go thru the whole October Arc with Moon and Sun. Moon being far more quiet but aggressive. Made Sun to hinder Eclipse. Let me paste my lil paragraph i had in discord

"Sun likely has more denial about moons treatment of him, however like lunar he does start questioning if its good for moon to get the star (like sort of getting the Moon Wont Stop so i need to do something he might hurt himself etc) plus lunar and eclipses treatment of sun would be a huge factor too, eclipse obviously is terrible at communcating and while he's a bit of a jerk, realizing sun might be in danger or hurt is something he might catch on faster. maybe. im thinking anyway sun catches attachment to both that outweighs his denial of moon being terrible actually. he's still grasping at things even well after. doesnt realize he gets awful panic attacks until someone points it out actually. and then i lost my train of thought but moon still loved sun just…. very clearly was not the forefront of his goals tho. feels very betrayed by sun after and likely wont fogrive sun. vs sun whos too willing to forgive despite his anxiety screaming at him NOT TO. i just wanna show a different thing to this cause lunar recognized halfway into october and let moon handle the rest and recognizes that eclipse was hurting him much sooner than sun wouldve (see the… current sun. og sun recognizes now but it truly took him a WHILE, communication Real now.)" Anyway, Sun does end up getting adopted by both Eclipse and Lunar. He's never gonna be taller than Eclipse. But as mentioned he's got a lot of things to work through about Moon (Roxy will kick so much ass for him.) Generally trying to grasp that yeah no it was pretty fucked up of Moon to do anything to Sun. Now the timeline gets a lil weird beyond this because like KC would've also been in this plot. KC unlike our Bloodmoon, is actually far smarter (Im sorry to bm fans), he DOES work with Sun but generally more for his benefit of getting rid of Moon. He doesn't really need to be bribed for this actually. Imagine KC being so pissed about Moon showing up in his systems and hes LIKE WTF MAN. Zappity Zap Zap Double Dee Moon Anyway Cue Bloodmoon arriving. And like bloodmoon does- He does technically hold Eclipse hostage but gets bored. So there is mild agreement. Bloodmoon does what KC did and FORCED themself out (like our OG boy!). They're uh... theyre not very keen on sticking around a daycare as fun as itd be to tear it up. They like lightly bully Sun but Roxy to the rescueee. Anyway, 'Does KC die in this au?' No he doesnt. He gets CLOSE to it but Bloodmoon just goes 'Hmn. nah son you're coming with me'. Lunar still feels incredibly bad about it though. Space arriving sooner actually more or less helps like avoid some certain issues here and there. Unlike Earth where she arrives much later (due to be literally distracted.) Space goes directly to the daycare. Thus kinda- changing some bits. He does meet Bloodmoon, hates him though. 'Why aren't you thinking this through' 'We wanna see how much they scream' 'You'll be electrocuting yourself before you get the chance' '...That means Eclipse gets electrocuted?' 'Put down. the fork.' KC handles Bloodmoon with much exasperation. Bloodmoon picked up this sucker and went 'our Spawn'. Baffles KC. Space ends up meeting Crater, Moon got annoyed with Space's presence being literally really hard to work around. Sends Crater, Crater and Space get along well enough that it wasn't Moon intention but this works too. Space (theres irony here) gets concerned with Crater and her not viewing herself with autonomy. She is still just a 'basic AI' as she puts it. Does what she's told. Bloodmoon doesn't really use her just kinda shoo's her off to Space or Eclipse. 'No you're no fun-' 'I have told to monitor you' 'WE DIDNT ASK MOON FOR A BABYSITTER' 'I am programmed to defend' 'We dont need defending either' 'You are still vunerable' '...Go away' 'Affirmative. Destination please?' 'DAYCARE'

Anyway How do i sum this up. Roxy and Sun are besties Lunar and Sun vibe. Eclipse is soft with Sun.

Bloodmoon has claimed ONE child. Doesn't really claim Moon but thats a later thing. Moon and KC despise one another.

KC didn't really want this fatherly figure but he begrudgingly accept them. Funny things happen with these three. Bloodmoon doesn't become pacifist, just more or less moves away dragging KC with them. A little bitter at Lunar's murder attempt but its fine. No one died there but heavily maimed.

Eclipse and Moon still ultimately hate one another. There is a Swap version of Solar thats Moon and- we'll get confused so just know its out there. Space and Crater are good friends and partly why both end up questioning their existence but both support pillars to one another that it just kinda isn't as devastating. Unless someone dies. Crater does end up having her own personhood, Moon does get attached to her even if he doesnt admit it. Space doesn't question creator enough but Crater does and vice versa. Bloodmoon(s) does have a name but ill reveal that later??? idk

[familyvideostevie]

october sixth

day six: james potter james brings you to a campfire with his friends | fluff! james being flirty | 1.1k

It’s a bit of strange magic that you haven’t met James’s friends yet. Not officially, anyway. In passing, sure, and James has told you all about them. He talks about the boys and their antics constantly and assures you that the girls will adore you. It’s only a matter of time before you all get together.

Not for lack of trying, of course. But Remus was out of town and then Sirius had the flu which he gave to Marlene and then everyone was busy with an old schoolmate’s wedding and you were swamped with work and it’s been almost three months since your first date and you still haven’t been properly introduced.

It doesn’t bother you that much. In fact, you’re pretty sure it bothers James much more. “I just don’t want you to think I’m hiding you,” he says. “It’s bloody weird that it’s worked out like this.”

The fix comes with the change of the seasons. Lily’s parents have a country house and invite everyone for a weekend of bonfires and warm drinks and general lazing about.

“A country house, James? Really?” you say when he tells you. He shrugs.

“We go every year. You’ll love it.”

So you agree. It’s not until you’re literally about to turn into the drive that the nerves hit you all at once. Your leg bounces in the passenger seat of James’s car and he puts his palm on your knee to still it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks. “No harm, no foul.”

“Of course I do,” you scoff. “We’re almost there, anyway.”

James grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. “I’d turn around right now if you asked,” he says. “Seriously.” His dark gaze is steady and warm.

“I will not ask that,” you say. “I want to meet them. I just —”

“They’ll love you,” James says firmly. “They know all about you and they are just as offended that this hasn’t happened sooner. They all blame me, actually.”

He turns off of the long road and the house emerges in front of you like a fairy tale. It’s a country house, sure, but it’s clearly large and nicer than anything you’ve ever seen.

“I hope you’ve only told them good things,” you say. James turns off the car and allows you to stall for a few moments.

“No, I’ve told them how you snore and leave your kitchen cabinets open all the time,” he deadpans. You laugh and he grins. “Have you got your silly bag?”

The tote at your feet is full of things you’ve brought with, despite James’s protests. Licorice for Sirius, cider for Remus, Lily’s favorite biscuits from town. You made sure to have a little something for everyone even though your boyfriend assured you that buying their loyalty wasn’t necessary.

“They’re already on your side since you put up with me,” he’d said.

But now you just nod. James gives your hand one last squeeze. “They’re going to love you,” he says. You let yourself look at him, really look at him in the way you know he enjoys. He looks excited, almost boyish. Fall suits him with his sweater and waxed jacket, a hat tucked into his pocket. His hair is a mess and his glasses need to be cleaned.

You adore him.

“Let’s do it.”

You arrive at the front door to a flurry of activity. Everyone spills out and there are cries of your name and hugs and you hand off your items, feeling a bit shy.

“My god,” Sirius says, looking at his licorice. “She’s perfect, Jamie.”

Remus thanks you with an easy smile for the cider and Lily actually screams when you pull out the biscuits.

“She’s a keeper, Potter,” she shouts. “If you ever want to ditch him,” she says to you, “you’re welcome to. You can hang out with the girls.”

You get pulled from James and meet Dorcus and Marlene and they take you up to your room. The sun has almost set so they tell you to put some more layers on and come down to the bonfire when you’re ready.

“See?” James says as he spills into the room. He tosses your bags on the bed. “They love you more than they love me.”

“I am rather charming,” you say. He laughs and kisses you once, twice, three times. He backs you up against the door and you have to push him away. “They’re expecting us at the bonfire, James.”

He pouts. “Fine,” he says. “If you insist.”

The evening is a fun one. There are jokes and stories and games, everyone drinking to stay warm and snacking on junk food.

You wander back from a trip to the bathroom to find that the seats have reshuffled, the conversations moved. James waves you over.

He’s bathed in the light of the fire, the flames making the lenses of his glasses shine in the dark. The bench he’s on has no more room but he grins and pats his thigh.

You raise your eyebrows. Really? He winks.

You do as he asks and perch on his thigh, knees smushed into his other leg. He wraps his arm around your back to keep you from falling if you lean too far. Dorcus is telling a story about some adventure she and Marlene went on last week, so no one really looks at you.

James tugs on your ear. You lean down and his lips brush against your skin. “This is nice. Are you having fun?”

You nod. “I am,” you say into his hair. “They’re lovely.”

“Thank you for coming.” You know James is mostly happy-go-lucky, pleased as punch to do anything, a real sunshine boy. But you also know it has bothered him immensely that two important parts of his life have been separate until now. He’s worried endlessly that you think he’s not keen on your relationship despite your assurances otherwise. So you are glad that you’re here, even if you were nervous at the start. You just want him to be happy.

He kisses your cheek until you turn your head enough for him to capture your lips. You can’t wait to be in his arms in bed tonight.

“Oi!” Sirius yells. “Stop canoodling. It’s obscene.” He’s teasing, obviously, but you tuck your face into James’s neck anyway.

“Aw, let them,” Lily says. “You’re just bitter you’re single as fuck.”

“Hey!” Everyone laughs. You feel James’s chuckle more than hear it and you put your palm on his chest. His heart is beating steadily. You can hardly believe he’s given it to you.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[hellfirexhoe]

Death of Me: Chapter 11 - Awake

Chapter 11 | Series Masterlist

2.1k words

Warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI, pregnancy, reference to broken bones, blood

A small, slightly disappointed huff leaves Eddie's lips, 

"I'm telling you, he doesn't like me!" 

"And I’m telling you, you're being ridiculous, he's too small for you to feel it when he's kicking." You'd been feeling movements for the last week, and while you were both delighted with this, you could see Eddie was feeling a little left out that he couldn't yet feel anything. 

"Nope. Kid hates me already." Eddie jokes, bumping your shoulder with his as he lays beside you, brushing his bangs from his eyes.

“You need to let me trim your hair, it’s gonna get to October and you’re going to be unable to see our newborn because your hair will be obscuring your vision.” 

Eddie laughs, “You don’t trust me to trim it myself?”

“Eddie, I've seen what happens when you trim it too short.” 

“In my defence I was trying to keep it in line, and then it just kept getting shorter and shorter. That was not my best look huh?” You shake your head with an apologetic smile,

“No I’m afraid that wasn’t the haircut that would have ever won me over.” Eddie pretends to pout,

“What if I’d suggested we start our arrangement with that haircut?”

“Then we wouldn’t be here right now because you know I’d have laughed you right out of the canteen or library or wherever else you decided to proposition me.” 

"I’m fairly certain you actually made the first move. Anyway, guess what arrived on Wayne's doorstep today." 

"You’re insane. And I’m gonna guess… your secret love child from a tryst with another member of the Hawkins cheer squad?" You gasp in horror, “I thought I was the only one. How could you?”

"Shit how did you guess?" Eddie pulls a face at you and pulls you closer, until your head is resting on his shoulder, lowering his voice until it's barely a whisper, "I got hush money. ‘For my discretion’" 

“But you’ve never been discrete a day in your life.” Eddie snorts

“Well I’m not running around town about what happened to me am I?”

"That’s true, maybe I should give you more credit. So, hush money?" Eddie nods, looking down at you with a happy smile,

“There was something else too”

“If you now say a love child you will be getting smacked.” You hover your hand over his arm, ready to drop at any second,

"No, it was a, uh, it was an honorary diploma, no more repeating senior year for me."

"Shit, if only you'd known before that nearly dying in an alternate hellscape dimension would guarantee you a pass I'm sure you'd have done that sooner." 

"Well that was my first thought too. Full of regret that I didn’t try that my first senior year." Eddie sarcastically replies, gently flicking your arm. "But the money. It's uh. Enough to pay off my treatments, help Wayne out with some of his debts and we'd still have a good deal left over."

"Jesus, how much did they give you?" Eddie scratches his head, and leans over to his jacket haphazardly thrown over your vanity chair, pulling out an envelope from one of the inner pockets and handing it to you silently. You pull the letter from the envelope and your eyes go wide as you read the figure.

"Shit." 

"Yep." 

"That's…"

"Enough for a house." You whip your head up to look at Eddie, perched on the end of your bed, grinning at you. 

"You sure? You really don’t have to do this.”

"Am I sure it's enough or I am sure I want this?" 

"Eddie, you know what I mean." 

He nods, "I'm sure, it's not like your parents would be in love with me moving in here, or that Wayne would enjoy another Munson under his roof, last kid he tried to raise turned his hair white." He chuckles and shifts himself on the bed, to be closer, "If this is truly what you want then I am all in." 

“Are you sure it won’t be terribly boring for you?”

“Raising a kid in a stable home? Yeah I can’t think of anything worse.” Eddie stares at you pointedly, “C’mon, what are you really worrying about?”

“Just that you’re rushing a lot of things and that you might regret this later on. Maybe that you’re only doing this because my parents are putting pressure on you.” You shrug, picking at a non-existent thread on your sleeve until Eddie takes your hand,

“Okay. It is very rushed and I’m sorry that a lot of this feels too soon, but I really want this. Want to be better than my old man was. If I’m moving too fast, just tell me and I’ll slow down, you know that.” 

You nod and let Eddie pull you onto his lap, hugging you as close as he can with a growing bump in the way. 

“I want this too, I just worry that you will become bored.”

“Please. Shoot me when I get bored of having the hottest wife in Hawkins, and the cutest kids.” You laugh and waggle your fingers in front of your face,

“You keep calling me your future wife but you still haven’t asked.” 

“Working on that.” Eddie kisses your cheek, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Wayne had been searching his possessions all day, sent on a mission by his nephew that morning, after a long chat in which both men had got misty eyed. He had a growing sense of unease when he struggled to find the box within a few minutes of his search, certain that he would have placed it in one of the obvious safe places in the trailer, the fireproof safe, nope, maybe his cupboard by his bed, nope.. Now that unease grew to full blown dread at telling Eddie that the item may have been lost when they lost their first trailer.

He curses himself for not thinking to ensure that the box was safe when he first moved in, now searching through his kitchen cabinets as though he would have placed such a sentimental object alongside Eddie's old Garfield mug. No luck here. He scans the room, scratching his head, eyes settling on a small trunk tucked behind the sofa,

"You gotta be in there." He yanks the trunk onto the sofa and starts scrambling around, throwing items haphazardly behind him as his fingers brush against the satin of the box. 

Gotcha.

Robin and Steve had spent their evening break out of the shop, wanting the fresh air, wandering absently towards the centre of town, eventually coming to a stop at a crevice, both peering down it curiously.

"So this could be the trauma confusion talking but, weren't these all hellfire-y and burning pits like… yesterday?" 

Steve nods, the crack before them seemingly to be just that, a crack in the ground. The cracks that up until yesterday had been unfillable by any means the remaining Hawkins residents had tried.

"Does this mean what I think it means? Maybe we did kill Vecna." Robin allows just a hint of optimism for the moment, looking from the crack to Steve.

Steve shakes his head at Robin, "When have we ever known it to be that simple? I don't have a good feeling about this. We need to get the group together, come up with a plan just in case." 

Robin nods, “I don’t think anyone is doing anything important tonight…. Shit.” Steve looks up at her abrupt end to her sentence, “Do we ruin the lovebird’s dinner date to tell them?” 

“I think we’re going to have to.” Steve laments.

“What if he’s mid-proposal and we burst in like ‘hey sorry guys, cute moment you are having but we think The Thing we don’t want to think about might be happening’. That could be awkward.” Robin laughs nervously.

“Do we know he’s definitely proposing tonight?” 

“He’s taking her out for dinner, told us all if we interrupted their date he would hand deliver us to the upside down with a bow tied around us and literally told us he was planning to propose and that it would be soon.” 

Steve remembers Eddie’s threat well, “You have a point. Maybe we catch them after? Let's get everyone else together first and then we can swing by the trailer and hope to God we don’t see Eddie’s ass again.” 

“I’m not taking that kind of chance Steve, I’ll stay with everyone else. Where are we thinking?”

“My place? Parents are gone again.” Robin nods, feeling a pang at the way Steve looks down at the ground whenever the topic of his parents comes up.

Drool trickles down Lucas' cheek, a soft snore leaving his mouth as he sleeps, folded over on himself with his head resting by Max's hand. The room is quiet, except for the snore and the beeping of monitors. 

The group still visited on a daily basis, and no one had given up on Max, but Lucas was the only one who refused to ever leave her side, except for the times where Erica hauled him out of the room to shower at home and to take some time for himself. 

Max's bones began to heal a few weeks after she was taken into the hospital. It was slow going, much slower than the doctors would expect but they still healed over time. They weren’t so optimistic about her vision, but then they also weren’t optimistic about her waking up either. Maybe that’s why Lucas awakes with a start when he feels Max’s arm shift, watching her face as a frown contorts her features briefly. That’s new. Without taking his eyes off of her face Lucas scrabbles around in his bag, looking for the walkie to get hold of Eleven and Dustin

They both arrive within 10 minutes, Dustin sweating from his bike ride, Eleven clearly having been given a ride by either Joyce or Hopper.

“Anything changed?” 

Lucas shakes his head, “It’s like she’s right there and she just can’t get through to us.” 

The three shriek like harpies when Max suddenly gasps, sitting bolt upright in her bed, grabbing out in the air until Lucas’ hand finds hers,

“Max?? It’s me, it’s Lucas. Can you hear me?” Lucas hits the call button as he tries to comfort a now sobbing Max, unable to make any sense of the words between her cries. It takes a while, and a small amount of sedation but eventually Max settles, still not having regained her ability to speak coherently, but awake, aware of the people in the room with her.

Max’s mom arrives within the hour, holding her head to her chest, smoothing over the braids that Erica and Eleven had put into her hair just a day earlier, whispering words of comfort to her. Eventually Max’s mom reaches out for Lucas’ hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze,

“Thank you so much for being here, not letting her wake up alone, making sure her friends were here to comfort her.” Lucas nods, words escaping him for a moment. Then attention swings to Eleven, watching over her friend with unshed tears,

“And you, you have always been such a good friend to my daughter, I know you have been taking care of her more than you should have had to but just know I’ll always be grateful.”

Dustin gives Lucas a wave before he can get a mini speech and backs out of the room, not wanting to intrude on the moment, and also dying to tell everyone that Max is awake. 

The van ride from dinner to drop you back to your parent’s house is deemed the perfect time by Eddie to start suggesting baby names once more.

“Eddie, we are not naming our child Sabbath. That is a cat name, not a kid name.” You wanted Eddie to have input into names, but so far you were unimpressed with his suggestions, there was one you were quietly considering but you wanted to wait a while, see if you both still liked the name in a few weeks.

“Okay fine, we’re getting a cat too then.” Eddie chuckles, rubbing your thigh as he drives,

“A cat and a baby? Damn, I really domesticated you huh?” 

“Nope. Still feral.” To prove his point he grabs your hand and sinks his teeth in, obviously not hard enough to leave any lasting marks, but enough to make you laugh at the faint imprint of his teeth in your hand.

“Ugh,” You look up from your hand over at Eddie who’s winching slightly, pinching his fingers to the bridge of his nose as frown crosses his features,

“Everything okay, handsome?” 

“Yeah, just a little headache, nothing to worry about.” He smiles over at you and his face has you reaching for the tissues in your purse,

“Pull over. Your nose is bleeding.”

Taglist: @hellomothermoon @tlclick73 @likedovesinthewnd @bebe0701 @wheaty-melon @thegirlwhohides @mxcheesee @witchofhawkins @munsonsgirl71 @sammararaven @joejoequinnquinn @hellfire-puppet @micheledawn1975 @averagemisfit03 @edsforehead @thehuntresswolf @a-hopeless-fan @thatsbunnysmind @heyhihellowhatsup0 @iamaslutforcoffeee @boomhauer @quinndjarin @tayhar811 @sister-cirice @sidthedollface2 @plutolvr @callmeloverr @manda-panda-monium @alyssaaaaa-r @afs1 @3rriberri @eddiesbabe95

[goeasyonjude]

please.... share your harold headcanons.... i need them to live...

💌 you mean…. my favorite pastime is encouraged? i wanted to give a long list but i would also like to post this before bed so it arrives to you sooner!! i hope these can suffice for now 🫶

-even after jacob passed he still had the child-like hope that he would never have to live without his parents, and when they passed as well, he resolved to always show love and to hold on to every person for as long as he possibly could

-he continued to publish books, unlike the ones previous, the acknowledgments now referenced a son

-has what julia would describe as a giddy ‘i made jude laugh’ smile

-is the first person to grab a blanket to lay over the person who’s fallen asleep on the couch

-harold is a diehard dessert lover to his core

-phone calls are his favorite thing, his calls with willem are the ones he secretly treasures the most

-he finds it impossible to throw away anything of sentimental value

-has the opinion that candy corn is the worst part of halloween, he believes that people who eat it (andy, willem) are genuinely insane. each october julia buys some for guests, and each october harold complains

-following the adoption harold would use any excuse to talk about jude just so he could refer to him as his son in conversation

[tact-and-impulse]

Three Strands Part I

@shinkaneweek, thank you for the prompts! This is kind of inspired by a dream I had a long time ago, plus I don't think I've ever done this trope. Mild allusions to Psycho Pass: Providence, but nothing too spoilery, at least in this installment! On FF.net and AO3

A cord of three strands is not easily broken. - Ecclesiastes 4:12

part 1: perspective

To be fair, he had asked for this.

The hotel’s upscale interior reflected the owner’s taste for finery. Ornate chandeliers, polished mahogany tables, delicate porcelain dishes. Begrudgingly, Kougami had to admit the coffee was good. Next to him, Akane had finished her own cup. He was used to her Holo disguise now, her lighter and longer hair, though he still had to move carefully, to adjust for the slimmer physique of his own.

Across from them, the planner opened a book of color swatches, already blurring into a gradient. “Now, I will say that most women want to be a June bride, but do you have a preference?”

“Autumn is fine.” Akane said. “I have no issue with waiting.”

“And you, sir?”

Kougami tried not to jolt. “Sooner rather than later.”

“Eager, aren’t we? I’ll put you for October then. How lovely! A wedding among the maple trees.” Then, the conversation veered towards budget and packages, leaving Kougami to reflect on how exactly this situation had unfolded.

***

To him, the mission was clear; the hotel had to be investigated. On the surface, Yume appeared to be a quaintly run business, but it had once been run by a criminal now in custody and the building had changed hands quickly. Too quickly. The new proprietress was Yanase Juria, a confident woman who appeared younger than her forty years. And despite her glamorous image in surveillance footage, reports of illegal immigrant labor were deftly buried in her file. And under her direction, the newly branded logo was a three-tailed fox.

So, Foreign Affairs had to be involved, and they met with Public Safety to negotiate jurisdiction. Unit One was already in the meeting room, Akane the newest addition. It might have been a pleasant afternoon, except for the arrival of the new chief. The man was deft and calculating, steering the discussion in Public Safety’s favor.

“And on that matter, we need to decide who will be going undercover.” Homura smoothly said. “Since this is a collaboration between our departments, it would only be appropriate to have a representative from each. Statutory Enforcer Tsunemori will be ours.”

Hanashiro nodded. “Of course. As for our end-”

Time slowed. There were a number of Foreign Affairs employees, experienced with undercover jobs. He didn’t know whose name Hanashiro was going to say, who she was going to pair with Akane. But he interrupted anyway.

“I’ll do it.”

All heads had swiveled towards him, a mural of shock and surprise. It was obvious what they were thinking: really? He could have been blistered by Gino’s appalled aura, radiating from the next chair over, and Sugo’s discomfort was marked by a cough. In his peripheral vision, Homura was like a statue.

Shimotsuki could no longer suppress herself. “Haven’t you already created enough trouble for her? And have you ever worked undercover before?”

“Someone wise told me to expand my expertise. Why not this opportunity?” And that was true. Also, he didn’t trust anyone else with her safety.

Then, Akane spoke up, her gaze warm. “I don’t mind. I’d be happy to work with you again, Kougami-san.”

“Likewise.” He muttered and promptly forgot the rest of the meeting. Foreign Affairs would reconvene at headquarters, and he was bound to get an earful but he didn’t care.

Afterwards, he found her by a vending machine, grabbing a bottle of flavored water. He punched the buttons for his own drink. “I guess we’ll have to call often, make our cover.”

“Well, it helps that we know each other.” She wryly pointed out. “The best ones have a core of truth.”

“So…what are we?” Damn, that came out wrong.

Akane raised her eyebrows. “What would you like us to be?”

An answer came to mind, but he suppressed the thought. “We’ll have to fit in with the clientele, while keeping our story believable. A business trip may not buy us enough time.”

She opened her wrist device, searching through photos of the hotel. “They host a number of events. Graduations, retirement parties, weddings…”

As casually as he could muster, he said. “A wedding would give us an excuse, even reserve rooms.”

She looked at him, her lips curving upwards in agreement. “Yes, it would.”

“If we’re engaged, you’ll need a ring.”

“Oh.” She glanced down, extending her left fingers. “Right. I didn’t think about that.”

He took her hand, turning it over in his own. “Let’s find you something suitable.”

Her skin was soft, her pulse a quick rhythm. “I can always borrow from Shion-”

“No. It should be yours.” Before he could stop himself, his thumb ran over that space. A ruby for her name, set in a thin band…

The sound of approaching footsteps brought reality back, and they pulled away from each other.

“We can talk more later.” Her cheeks were pink.

“Sure. I’ll call you tonight.” And he walked off, scratching the back of his head, where it felt intensely warm. Posing as a couple getting married…wherever he was, Saiga-sensei was surely cackling.

***

They toured the reception halls first, while the planner dug for details about their backgrounds. Kougami gave brief responses about their jobs – he was freelance, she was in the Ministry of Health. They’d met at work. The planner wasn’t satisfied, asking how long they’d been together.

Akane easily replied. “Eight years. But we’ve been on and off until recently.”

He flashed a sharp look at that, but she ducked her head. Still, her hand entwined with his, and he immediately noticed the cool silver of her fake engagement ring. It really did look nice, better than he expected, and he squeezed tight.

“And now, I’m not letting her go.” He sensed her eyes now, but he refused to give in.

They walked on, and the flashy taste extended to each offering; they made noncommittal comments, it didn’t matter anyway. However, the planner seemed to sense their lack of enthusiasm, beckoning them to a Japanese style garden.

It was actually outdoors; the rocks and shrubs were real to the touch. Smooth ceramic tiles outlined a path over the gravel, to a rectangular patio framed by elegant maple and pine trees. A fountain burbled, trickling water through three stony pools. This side faced the mountains, and at dusk, the sun would burn in the distance. There was no pretense here.

“It’s beautiful.” Akane breathed, and she stepped towards the middle of the walkway. She gave a whirl, her skirt aloft for an instant, and asked. “Don’t you agree?”

He stared at her smile, and his traitorous imagination clothed her in a white kimono, a white gown, a veil unable to hide a radiant expression just for him. “Yeah. Beautiful.” And it didn’t feel like lying at all.

[books-and-strawberry-tea]

Small Favours - Erin A. Craig

I finished ‘Small Favours’ last night and wow….

What a trip.

The story follows Ellerie Downing, an 18 year old that lives in a quiet little town called Amity Falls. It's a rather peaceful place, everyone helping out. But bitterness and darkness lurks around the corners, completely hidden from sight. Whether that be a deep generational hatred for another family in town, the farm animals that birth with grotesque deformities, or the unknown beings in the woods with silver eyes.

As usual with Erin A. Craig books, little hints are given and hidden through out the story, with the true danger brewing in the background until its ready to burst forth. And this book doesn't fail to go positively wild when shit does indeed hit the fan. And like usual, Erin's story endings always take me by surprise. Sometimes I have an inkling, but other times I am completely blindsided by the extent of the horror of the situation. Leaving me completely bewildered throwing my hands in the air in shock and disbelief. (I mean this sentence literally just so you know.)

I am desperately trying to remain patient for Erin's next few books. But I will be completely honest, I'll probably drive myself crazy waiting. The next book that will be arriving sometime in October (Big thanks to @pikaychuwu for helping me get the book much sooner then Australia would allow.), I am so excited for 'The Thirteenth Child', I desperately need more of Erin's works.

So if this review has convinced you to try out Erin A. Craig books, please let me know what you feel. Would love to hear more thoughts!

Star rating: 4/5

[asinfullangel]

7 Costume

I believe: “A few beers is enough to make you look more like a snack,” will be fun.

What could be worse on Halloween night or during October? Some preds crashing a costume party, eating up people left and right as if they are a pack of wolves (would be more fitting if they dress as wolves), how about a pred that get into character all too well wherever they dress up as a hungry beast or invade a haunted house attraction to add more of a scare to anyone that doesn’t end up in their gut.

I’ll settle for one idea in mind and that is: inviting a pred to a costume party with an open bar. And so, a party was underway within a fancy apartment, a few friends arriving fashionably late (because they forgot where they left their costume after a few drinks). The pred of the group (that had “something” to eat already) dressed as an orc with some body paint on walked in along with his group of buds dressed up like an d&d adventure party following behind. They heard of this open door party around town and look like whoever’s running the place sure likes to spend a great time. Everyone was in costume, the place looked like the interior of a vampire cattles and the host dressed like a dark lore chatting with some guests. And the ore dressed pred was gazing around till he saw something he favored the most at a party, a bar loaded with bottles that’ll be empty sooner or later by him.

The group all dissipate around the place to enjoy themselves as it lasts. The pred at the bar ordering himself a few shots to be handed a bottle instead as he’s told, “enjoy yourself, they all have been paid for already.” The bartender left to do some catering (dressed like a blond satyr, seems to be having fun too). (You can see what’ll happen next) One bottle emptied, 3 bottles empty, a few to many emptied soon enough then the beer rack goes missing and said beers included. The bartender returned to see behind his counter that the same orc was drunk out of his mind in a daze with a slightly bigger belly now on him. “At least enjoy all that the party has to offer, but I suppose you’ll need to pick me up and luckily it is my specialty.” So with one bottle left and one quick brew of coffee he made the man a simple Irish that woke him up by the scent before he drank it all down without much thought. The bartender left without a word knowing what he did (hehe).

Skipping a few minutes the orc man was back on his feet and gazing around the room once again, drooling on his lips along with a hunger in his eyes that was the only few signs of what is going to happen next. Now begin the part of the event that was not planned by the host. Guests were disappearing left and right by this man throughout the night. He may be drunk, but somehow manage to add more fear into this party from the shadows and behind lockable doors. His buds took notice of the signs before they disappeared for the rest of the event. They knew to stay out of the way when this happened so back into the hallway and up they go to the rooftop to wait things out (at least the view of the stars will be nice to see). Once they were out of the hunting zone they took this time to themselves to recall and chat about their time at the party, getting a few laughs out from one another as the party downstairs was being silenced…

After an hour they group return downstairs to see the aftermath. A mess of costumes littered the ground along with anything else that was dropped & burped out hinted by the semi dried saliva coating it. They search around the place for their stuffed silly bud to find him filling out the master bedroom, crushing the queen sized bed underneath his gut that was squirming. The legs of the host were hanging out of his mouth while he was taking a nap because of his gluttony, so with a little push by his friends the host was sealed behind his lips and sent to join the rest. What was odd was a note left on the nightstand with one of their names signed to them saying, “do not worry about the mess even if that idea crossed your mind, I can handle such a aftermath with ease and don’t forget to take a goody bag on the way out.”

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Luke Macfarlane.

full name: Augustus Elliot Caldwell.

nickname(s) / goes by: Gus, Gussy, Auggie.

pronouns & gender: he/him, cis man.

sexuality: gay.

birth date: October 5, 1980.

birth place: Bend, OR.

arrival to merrock: local; returned in 2012.

housing: rural countryside.

occupation: firefighter (driver engineer).

work place: Town Hall.

family: Timothy (father), Alice (mother), Beau (brother), little brother. He has two children, Molly Grace and Leo Alexander (born in 2022).

relationship status: single.

filling connection: Jason Browning's co-worker as a firefighter.

PERSONALITY

Gus is good-natured, even-tempered, and a real stand-up guy. He'll help you move, spend an entire weekend helping you fix your car, and invite you over for dinner when he's grilling out. He hosts a big backyard barbecue bash every year and, honestly, he's just the sort of guy who you'd want in your corner when things get tough. He's patient, understanding, and a good listener. He's adept at reading people and gauging their needs and he'll go to the mat for his friends and kids. He's bound by a sense of honor and feels a strong sense of responsibility toward those he cares about. Honestly, he's just a good guy. As someone who is known is his friend group as a mediator, he's fair, believes in second chances, and will help you out when he can. If he's asking you to do something, then he'll undoubtedly be doing it right alongside you. As a firefighter, he tends to take on the more dangerous tasks himself, not wanting to put the members of his team in harm's way. He honestly just looks out for everyone.

WRITTEN BY: Nessa (she/her), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: mention of drugs, child neglect, military, alcoholism, injury.

Born in Oregon, Augustus Caldwell was the first son born to Timothy Caldwell and the second born to Alice Kennedy. Raised in the higher end of the lower class, the Caldwell's struggled to make ends meet for the vast majority of their lives, and at a young age Gus learned what it meant to be in "somebody's shadow". Times weren't always good, but family was family and they always got through it all. To Gus, his big brother was the rock that he relied upon to be the positive male role model in a sea of ever revolving male "friends" of their mother that would come through their home. Because of this, Gus struggled to find any kind of stability.

Sooner or later, his parents discovered they would be having another child, one who Gus knew right away would fall under his wing the moment he was born in the hospital. Unfortunately for Gus, his parents were quite the drug addicts. They cared too much about feeling high than taking care of one another, or even their own children. Thus, the idea of having a younger sibling grow up in the household he was raised in didn't make Gus feel at ease. While he was only around the age of five at the time, he was much more mature than the average child. After all, he didn't really have a choice if he wanted to stay alive. 

It wasn't too long after his little brother was born when the kids were whisked away by their parents to a small town in Maine called Merrock. Gus didn't know how it happened, or what that meant for him and his siblings, but all he cared about was making sure he was by his baby brother's side at all times. He made a promise to himself that he'd always look after him no matter what. While there would be a transition period for Gus to get adjusted to his new hometown, he at least had his little brother by his side. If anything, his little brother made things much easier for Gus. His baby brother provided him with a sense of comfort and familiarity, something Gus really needed at the time.

As the years went on, Gus slowly came to realize what his older brother, Beau, was becoming. By the time he was fifteen and in high school, he could see Beau going down a dangerous path littered with alcohol, drugs, and dealing with questionable characters. Quickly putting distance between himself and his older brother, Gus focused on studies as much as possible as the situation at home deteriorated. By the time he was eighteen and graduating high school, his older brother had been in and out of jail numerous times and was struggling more and more with alcohol. And while this was happening, his baby brother was nearing his high school years, needing someone to look after him. With so much on his plate family wise, Gus needed to get out. He needed to be free and do his own thing for a little while. However, he was torn because he couldn't leave his little brother behind. Gus had been there by his baby brother's side for his entire life and the idea of removing himself from that post was not something he could live with. Thus, the prospect of moving somewhere else within the country wasn't ideal. He needed to stay in Merrock.

He enrolled in Merrock's community college with the intention of getting certified as a mechanic. But when he got there, he saw flyers on the walls of the admissions office for an EMS training program, and signed up for that instead. For one reason or another, Gus made the decision to become a paramedic. If you were to ask him now why he chose that career path, he'd probably say it was because he'd get the opportunity to help people. Fortunately, his response would be genuine, though he had bigger things planned for himself. He wanted to get enough experience in the field before he considered becoming a nurse or something else.

Moving into a small apartment downtown, Gus stayed close by as he helped his little brother get through high school. Once his little brother's graduation rolled around and he was accepted to his top choice of school, Gus knew that it was time for him to move on. Knowing that the life that was panning out in front of him was not the kind he wanted for himself, Gus left Maine and joined the Air Force and cut virtually all ties with his family, unintentionally including his baby brother.

Shipping off to basic training was a breath of fresh air for Gus - everything that had been threatening to suck him down with his family had been lifted off his shoulders and he was free to explore who he was. While the Air Force kept him in line and provided him the structure and the challenge that he had lacked for so many years, the brothers and sisters in arms that were beside him across his training and enlistments with the Air Force taught him that while blood was thicker than water, family was who you chose to surround yourself with. Deciding to use his background as a paramedic, Gus became a Pararescueman for the Air Force. Gus found himself all over the globe at various places, helping to rescue those who needed it. After many years of doing that position within the Air Force, Gus decided to not renew his contract after his extension was coming to an end and returned to Maine. For one reason or another, something in him told him to go home.

Going back to Maine after being absent for nearly a decade had been a difficult adjustment for him, as both of his parents and little brother resented him for leaving them behind and going off and living a new life while they were still in Maine. His older brother, who had somehow gotten his life turned around more than it had been while Gus had been in high school had been the only one to welcome him home with open arms. It was a weird situation to be in, as it seemed that the tables had turned and while he had once looked up to his older brother, it seemed that Beau was looking up to him.

That streak didn't last long though, because after having been accepted to the local fire academy to become a firefighter for the town of Merrock, Gus was knee deep in his training when his brother's stupidity came back to haunt him all because of the way that alcohol had its way of taking over his older brother. It didn't surprise him when he learned through The Times that it was Beau who threw some firecrackers into a backstreet alley that caused a girl to get injured, and when Beau was sued, Gus didn't side with his brother. Beau had been stupid enough to let the alcohol drive his actions and Gus wasn't going to stand there and coddle him just because he made a mistake he needed to own up to.

Never showing up to the trial at all and not willing to show any kind of support for his older brother caused a line to be drawn in the sand - his family on side of the line and him alone on the other side made it clear where everybody stood. He had fought too hard to make a life and a name for himself after getting out of Merrock, learning skills that he could use in a career once he got out of the military and now that he was getting close to having a career that he could be proud of, he wasn't going to let anything stop him. With his family essentially declaring him 'persona non grata', Gus had joined the fire department and eventually made his mark at the station as the years went by, climbing up the ladder in ranks as a driver engineer. And when the opportunity to become lieutenant arose, Gus jumped at the chance before resigning from the title because he didn't enjoy the added on duties of the role. He's quite content con where he is as a firefighter, not feeling the need to move up in ranks anymore.

Throughout the years of being back in town and working as a firefighter, Gus created his own little family, having a set of twins by himself through surrogacy. Truth be told, Gus loves being in Merrock, especially now that he has created a life that he enjoys. And while he's trying to make amends with his little brother, he's just fine with having no contact with the rest of his family. Recently, he has moved into a beautiful cabin with plenty of room for his children and dogs to run around out in the countryside. All in all, he's raising two healthy kids, has a friend group that he calls family, and goes to a job that he wouldn't trade for the world.

[containatrocity]

THE DIRGE: OLEANDER "OCTOBER ROULETTE" GRIMM

(That man he's a monster!) Made a deal with the demons, he's a cold hearted heathen- yeah it's gunpowder season.

"October Roulette. Any name I used to have hardly matters anymore, because that's the only one anybody bothers to pay any lip service. I'm 48 years old and hail from Georgia, where I started my career as a musician at 18 years old. As the frontman for Autumn's Gamblers I made my name as a temperamental, over the top man, eventually alienating my bandmates and going solo as Odd Revolver. I'm technically a visitor, living in the commune since my arrival and largely keeping to myself and among my own interests. I do not currently hold employment and likely won't, until forced to act. As a man bent on vices and violence, it's a little rude to ask me to narrow down my absolute favorite- but blood spilled in service of my own personal gain has always been the hardest habit to kick."

Name: Oleander Grimm- though he's known entirely by his stage name, October Roulette.

Aliases: Ock, Toby, Ten, TKO

Age: 48 (July 17th)

Sexuality/Gender: pansexual cis male

Personality: self-servicing and cruel, October Roulette has built his empire off the backs of people too foolish to best him at his own game. Despite his clear talent for music and gift of gab, it's hustles and foul play that he's benefited from the most- and these things inform his personality. Boisterous, loud, and commanding both in stature and engagement with the world at large, October's charisma belies a rather mean-spirited layer just under the surface. He'd much sooner watch somebody grovel for his attention than offer a kindness, and it's a history in the tabloids and gossip rags since the 90s that's fed his ego. He's violent to a fault, eager to put his fists and firearms to work when the opportunity arises, and a game of chance played against October Roulette oft ends poorly- like the Russian style of his namesake.

Occupation: currently unemployed, former rockstar as Odd Revolver and the frontman of Autumn's Gamblers.

Affiliations: the commune, Quinn

Scent Profile: clove cigarettes and heady, musky cologne, there's a lingering scent of gunpowder and copper, something subtly sweet that turns the stomach unpleasantly- it feels disingenuous- meant to draw you in like honey-like a flytrap.

Aesthetic: Bitter black coffee in a cup stained with blood, ceramic streaked sanguine and too many rings dotted with gore. Absent sips and sigilcraft- thy art is murder- in blood your pact paid due. A large furred coat and an ornate revolver, your namesake, a tool- it feels impersonal, now. Blood on hands on rings on neck. Stained red. Guitar strings and lyric sheets. The devil left Georgia in your body. You do death's will now. A dirge. A song for the dead. It mourns not- through you, it is a bellowing scream.

Opened up his eyes with a double-edged blade, time to pay the price for the choices that he made, whispers in his head slowly tapping on his brain- Praying to a God that he's never gonna face.

CHAPTER ONE: LIFE IN HUNTSVILLE POST ARRIVAL.

October has few duties beyond being perceived as what he is, massive, deadly, dangerous. It is his presence that encourages second thoughts in those who might choose to 'put an end' to the talk of the creatures in the woods demanding sacrifice to allow the townspeople to roam free, and it is his freedom to behave in his typical capacity, a bully and a brute that keeps him loyal to the cause- He is an imposing, monstrous figure, and he is never much more than a shout of his name away from an act of brutality in service of his ultimate goal: Keeping Huntsville locked away, with himself and a chosen few at the helm. He doesn't need power, he does not seek to lead, he wants only to do what he's done since he was a boy. To kill. To consume. To hunt those lesser than him in service of his pacts with things more evil than he could ever hope to grasp.

He is charismatic, despite this, and endearing when he must be, charming enough to pull strings, famous enough prior to his time in Huntsville to prey upon those weak enough to fall victim to the glitz and glamour of perceived celebrity- It's left him a tumultuous figure, to say the least, love or hate him, October is undeniable, commanding a room when he enters and using that presence to bolster the words of someone who may lead to the town's undoing.

[norabrice1701]

Falling - Pt. III

A Sam Neill!Vasily Borodin (The Hunt for Red October) x Fem!Reader Fic

Mini-Series Main List

Pt. III Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut (including frottage and unprotected sexual intercourse); strong language; infidelity; misogynistic, controlling and abusive (emotional and physical) behavior towards reader; self-worth issues; pregnancy and infertility; heartache and loss; canonical character death

Days later, your skin still crawls from where Mikhail grabbed you in front of Vasily. His guiding touches to steer and navigate you through party crowds are hardly anything new, but the force of his grip held a possessive edge that you’d never seen before. 

Had Mikhail somehow overheard your conversation? Had you truly been so absorbed with Vasily that you lost so much sight of your surroundings? Had every long forgotten emotion for your old love been so visible on your face? 

“Are you happy?”

The question haunts you for days and weeks, as does the memory of Vasily’s face in the question’s aftermath. How would he have answered? Would he have said that yes, he is happy, after a fashion? Or would he have said that yes, he was happy once? Or would he have declared his undying love for you and say that happiness was never an option once you left his life? 

None of the responses you conjure sit well with you, and honestly, what did you expect would happen if he did answer your question in the middle of that party? The most likely scenario probably would have resulted in your tears and admission of regret, admission of how you never stopped loving him and wanted him still…

And the realization upends your life. Every time you glance around your home with Mikhail, every night as you crawl into bed beside him, every night you take dinner in near silence with him - you realize that the happiness you thought you had was simply a cheap veneer to hide what you were powerless to change. That the one thing, the one person you wanted most in this life - and still do - is not yours to be had. 

You become quite adept at hiding silent tears in your pillow during the darkest hours. 

None of it is helped when the farewell reception for the Red October is announced. The final opportunity to wish her esteemed officers all the best for the maiden voyage, hosted at the Admiral’s lavish home. 

Upon arrival, it’s more of a mansion than a home. Upon entry, it’s more of a palace than a mansion. Marble and richly furnished interiors occupy the massive floorplan. Golden light spills from large, elegant chandeliers that glitter and glisten with countless crystals. String music floats from a quartet tucked in a corner, and the parade of black tie party officials, diamond-and-fur draped women, and dapper officers complete the spectacle. 

“Yes, I cannot believe that Anastasia will soon be a university graduate.” Madam Andreyeva laments despite the proud smile on her face. “We cannot be more thrilled about her future prospects. She’s currently seeing the grandson of one of the most senior party members - but I cannot say who, of course.” 

The other two women you’re standing with chuckle their amusement and approval. You match their smiles, offering your congratulations as you finish your glass of cloyingly sweet champagne. 

“I do wish my Inessa would settle down, sooner rather than later,” Madam Belova says, words tight with frustration as she glances around. “She needs to understand that the best role she can serve for our great country is to further its legacy by marrying the right man. If only she were able to attend tonight - there are so many eligible officers here.” 

Madam Andreyeva chuckles teasingly. “I do wonder if Captain Ramius would ever consider remarrying. The death of his wife was heartbreaking, but there’s no reason a man of his stature shouldn’t consider a future proposal.” 

“I think I would consider it myself, were circumstances different.” Madam Alexeeva agrees with a mischievous grin. “Though, if my daughter were old enough, I would set her sights on Ramius’ Executive Officer.” 

Your heart thumps against your rib cage as you try to keep your face pleasantly neutral. 

“Oh, yes.” Madam Belova says with a nod as she sips her champagne. “Not only does Captain Borodin have rising prospects for his future career - he’s also quite handsome!” 

“And charming!” Madam Alexeeva adds with a wink as she leans in closer. “There’s a quiet, almost naive wit about him - a quality that makes one wonder what he is truly like with the doors closed and the lights off!”

The door closed behind you and surely, in the silence of your dormitory room, he could hear the thundering of your heart. It wasn’t just that you snuck a non-student into the building, but you’ve never had a man in your bedroom before. Let alone one that you wanted so completely.

Your heart raced as you turned back around to face him with a suddenly nervous smile. He offered a reassuring smile in return, studying you with that keenly observant gaze of his. You exhaled another eager, anxious breath and looked down to toe off your shoes. “I’m sorry it’s not much,” you said. “But at least my roommate has gone home for the weekend. I guess they think students don’t need much space.” 

“I’d say our barracks are easily the size of your building, but without individual rooms.” He stooped to remove his own shoes. “One learns to live without privacy very quickly.” 

“Is that why you’re so fearless?” You glanced back over at him in the yellow light that filtered through the windows. “You just… have nothing to hide from anyone?” 

His mouth curled with that adorable, bashful edge that you’ve come to love - because, yes, after seven months… you did love this man. “I won’t say that I ever had anything to hide, but… humans are rather adept at exploiting discomfort, unfortunately.” He fixed you with an earnest look that pinned you in place. “And that is not my intention here tonight. Despite what you said outside, nothing more, or less, needs to happen here… if you don’t want to.” 

Your heart warmed with affection and desire, matched by the arousal curling at the base of your spine. Slowly, you shook your head as your heart lodged in your throat. “No…” You breathed as you stepped closer, fixing him with all the honesty you have. “I just… h-haven’t done this before - but don’t mistake that for not wanting to. With you.”   

His eyes softened with tender understanding even as they flashed with ravenous desire. You worked a swallow down your throat as you stepped up to him, resting a hand over his heart. A trembling breath left you to feel its strong, rising beat beneath your palm as you blinked up at him through your lashes. “Have you…? Done this before?” 

He offered a slow half-nod as he raised a hand to cover yours still pressed against his chest. “Some,” his voice dropped to a velvety tone that rippled down your spine, and he leaned his forehead against yours. “Just with hands and mouths, though. Not… not fully.”

You exhaled another heavy breath as the damp ache between your legs continued to heat up, fueled by the puffs of his hot breath against your skin. “Okay…” a smile curved your lips as you nuzzled his nose and felt his strong hand settle on your waist. “At least one of us should know what we’re doing…” 

“I don’t think I would go that far, but hopefully -” 

You didn’t let him finish as you leaned in, sealing your mouth to his. You’ve talked so much and now, finally, you were done talking. You wanted the promise held in each increasingly fervent goodnight kiss. You wanted the feel of his skin on yours and his ragged breathing in your ear. You wanted his fingers to bring you to the brink and to cry his name in ecstasy. 

You sighed into the kiss as you melted beneath the warm, soft press of his lips. The hand at your waist wrapped around to the small of your back, pressing you in close. Sparks shot through you as your bodies connected, and you slid your hand from his chest to curl around the back of his neck. A moan of approval rumbled low in his throat, and your lips parted to swallow it as the kiss deepened. 

The smooth strokes of his tongue took your breath away as you clung to him, wanting only to forget where you ended and he began. You whimpered with growing need as the world narrowed to everything he offered, and you’ve never felt more alive. Parting from the kiss with a gasp, you mouthed along his jawline, teasing the tender skin. The hiss that passed his lips bolted liquid heat straight to your core before his mouth found the column of your neck.

“Oh, Vasya…” You breathed as you tilted your head to grant him better access, rewarded when he groaned his appreciation. His hips rolled teasingly forward, and you went dizzy as the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against where you wanted him most. With your last thought, you rocked your hips into his, loving how he crushed you closer and slipped a hand down to the hem of your shirt. 

With slow movements and careful steps, your shirt and bra ended up somewhere on the floor. His button-up shirt gaped open, and you couldn’t get enough of the broad, bare planes of his chest. As your mouths fused together with heated passion and your bare breasts met his skin, you dissolved to a whimpering puddle in his arms. 

His belt clanked to the floor and you fumbled the clasp of his trousers open before pulling him down to your narrow bed. Your legs spread on instinct to accommodate the fit of his hips as his weight pushed you deliciously into the mattress. Even through the layers of fabric, the hard heat of his erection made your mouth water. But when he shrugged out of his shirt and gave his hips a solid thrust forward, you didn’t recognize the cry that came from your mouth. 

“Off, off…” You panted, reluctantly pulling your hands away from his addicting expanse of skin to paw at your trousers. “Want them both off.” 

He shuddered a deep exhale, as if fighting for a last vestige of control, but he managed to lift up and accommodate the shifting fabric. As you both kicked your trousers away, your hands landed on the rounded curve of his backside to drag him back down. Even through your underwear, the heat of him burned where you so desperately ached, and blind desire clouded your last thread of sanity. 

“Zhizn moya…” He moaned against your mouth as your hips rolled together in a primal rhythm fueled by instinct and need. You arched your back to get closer, to open yourself up more and wrap a leg around his pert backside. 

“Vasya,” you sighed, nibbling his earlobe as your body continued to run away with you. “I-I want you inside me. Want to be yours.”

His answering growl spoke straight to the dripping, needy ache that he could surely feel as his hips thrust sharply against yours. A pleasured cry tore from both of your throats, echoing above your wrecked, tandem breathing in the small room. 

“God, I want that, too… more than anything,” he breathed, mouthing along your earlobe. “But I can’t… won’t risk putting you in that position.” 

And despite every taut nerve that screamed for the release that only he could give, you understood exactly what he meant. You could so easily get pregnant, and unwed mothers were still heavily frowned upon. A wave of tender love rushed through you at his thoughtfulness, and you clutched him ever closer, finding his mouth to pour out your appreciation for everything about him.  

You slid a hand between the tight press of your bellies to trace the hardened outline of him, feeling your cheeks grow hotter to touch him so intimately. His blown-wide, sapphire eyes shone with loving desire as you continued to caress him with inexpert fingers. Tentatively, you squeezed the tip of him and delighted in the answering stutter of his hips. 

Again, you gave him another gentle squeeze before drifting up to the waistline of his underwear and teasing under the elastic with eager anticipation. “Then… tell me what I can do instead.”   

“Are you alright?” A gentle hand on your forearm drags you out of the sudden rush of memory, back to the surrounding women and Madam Andreyeva’s concerned expression. “You look so flushed, as though you might faint.” 

“No, I’m… I’m alright, thank you.” Your cheeks warm with embarrassment as you look down at the empty champagne flute in your hand. “Maybe the champagne has just gone to my head… and yes, I’d say so.” You look among them, offering a hesitant, regretful smile. “If you’ll excuse me, please? I think I should go in search of some water.” 

Offering farewells, you turn from the group and exhale a deep sigh. As if the whole purpose of tonight’s party didn’t involve the one man you really didn’t want to think about, you didn’t need the conversation of gossiping hens to stir up heart-wrenching memories. Let alone to stir up thoughts about the possibility of Vasily marrying. Of Vasily taking a wife into his heart and his home and his bed… 

Your stomach rots with yearning envy even as you know it’s impossible. Divorce tarnishes both parties involved and just isn’t done. It would be far better to take a lover than suffer the shame of divorce, but there’s so much risk for a woman in your position. After all, it’s one thing for a man to take a discrete mistress, but completely another for a woman to take a lover. Even then, the thought of having Vasily in such a manner doesn’t sit well with you. He deserves so much better and so much more than that. He deserves… everything honorable and good and… 

The weight of your thoughts threatens to suffocate you, and maybe you can find Mikhail, feigning a dreadful headache. Yes, that’s exactly what you should do. If you’re able to leave now, then you won’t have to hear any more talk or risk any more heartbreaking encounters. Vasily will go to sea, and you can work to forget about him all over again. It worked once before, so why wouldn’t you be able to do it again? No matter how much the idea leaves a rotten ache in your stomach.

Abandoning your champagne flute, you move among the crowd, searching for the familiar face of your husband. But as you round a corner, you hear a hushed, familiar voice tucked against the wall.

“The chairman must understand my position.” Mikhail’s words hold a rushed, frustrated breath.

“And surely, you must understand the optics of the situation.” An unknown voice responds with caution.

“Don’t patronize me, Yuri.” Mikhail’s tone turns short and tight. “It’s well known that the chairman promotes men of stability and family, and it’s difficult to be a stable family man without a family.”

“If you want this step in your career, then you must act – sooner, rather than later.” Yuri counsels. “Have you considered taking further action?”

Mikhail sighs, heavy with irritation. “Many times. Divorce would put the nail in the coffin of my career faster than not getting this promotion, and taking a mistress is still dismissible –”

“But not unheard of.” Yuri agrees. “If a child were to come of that union, it would still bear your name – and your generosity towards both mother and child, while supporting your wife, would speak greatly to your character.”

Your stomach drops to your feet, horrified at what you’re hearing but unable to move away.

“With the right allies, of course,” Mikhail says, voice tight with the weight of consideration. “Vouching for both me and her, and making the extent of my failed marriage known despite all of my best efforts.”

Yuri hums in gentle agreement. “It does take two to make a marriage work, and if one partner is not committed, then…”

“Then, that settles it.” Mikhail sighs with the weight of a final decision made. “I’ll give her one more year to deliver – and I do mean that literally. The lack of generational legacy has held back my career for far too long now.”

Yuri chuckles salaciously. “Sounds like you’re going to have a busy next three months.”

“I will certainly give it my all even if I have to chain her to the bed and breed her like a mare. Then, even if she still fails to conceive - at least, my conscience will be clear.”

This time, Yuri’s chuckle dissolves into a low hum of agreement. “Then, you’ll know that you’ve done everything that you could.”

Mikhail hums in low agreement. “A tough job when you’re working with undisclosed, damaged goods.” He breaks off with a frustrated sigh. “For all the virtues that her parents extolled, they failed to disclose that she was poisoned – in both womb and heart.”

You throw a hand over your mouth to stifle a gasping sob. Tears burn your eyes and you have to leave, you have to get away immediately. You push through the crowd, desperately trying to hold your distress at bay until you’re alone, until you can breathe under the crushing weight in your chest.

If anyone notices you, you don’t notice them as your heels echo off the marble flooring in the grand entry hall. An opulent staircase curves towards the upper floor and a few partygoers linger along the broad railing, and you don’t hesitate. Gathering your skirt in your hand, your shoes sink into the plush carpeting as you flee upwards – someplace where Mikhail won’t find you, someplace where no one will.

An open door yields to a rich-wood paneled room lined with bookshelves. Plush furniture sits in front of a darkened fireplace and a large desk dominates the other half of the room. Perhaps it’s a study or maybe a small library, but it’s quiet and lit with a soft glow from the collection of ornate table lamps, and you close the door behind you.

The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing, and only then you notice the tears that dampen your cheeks. Wiping at them quickly, you feebly hope that your makeup isn’t beyond repair, but at this point, does it really matter? When Mikhail says such cruel things, when his colleagues spur him on, when he discusses your intimate life so… crudely and coldly. When he threatens to devalue everything about you as a person…

You draw another trembling breath, crossing your arms against your chest as you move further into the room. Whatever are you going to do? Do you have any legal recourse? Could you even secure a lawyer? Has life with Mikhail left you completely under his power?

Another tear slides down your cheek and soaks into the carpet. Maybe after so many years of not standing up for yourself or what you want, maybe this is what you deserve. Maybe this is just… the way that life is supposed to be. Your stomach twists with heartbreaking dejection at the thought.

The soft whisper of well-oiled hinges reaches your ears, and you dart wide, fearful eyes towards the door. Your last thread of resolve crumbles when you meet Vasily’s tender, concerned blue eyes, and you hang your head. Your shoulders shake from the force of your sobs as you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting him to see the utter failure that you’ve become. The rush of your breathing masks the sound of his sure stride, and strong, coaxing arms wrap around you. The uniform-clad plane of his chest fills your vision, and you’re powerless not to slump your forehead down to his offered shoulder.

He says nothing as he rocks you gently. No patronizing comments or false promises of a rosy outcome. He simply holds you as your tears continue to fall and your breath comes in hiccupping draws. It’s not elegant, it’s not pretty, and you should probably be humiliated by such a display, but in his arms… it’s the only safe place you’ve ever known to just be yourself.

Exhaustion sets in and your tears subside as your breathing settles out. Even then, he still just holds you comfortingly close as you breathe in his clean scent. Such a refreshing change from your cigar-smoke soaked husband. A stab of anxious unease cuts through you as you blink your eyes open against his shoulder, speaking softly. “You shouldn’t be here.”  

“And why not?” His voice is a low, whispered purr that warms you.

“If my husband finds us here… he would ruin your career.”

“How could I possibly care about that when you’re so upset?” His head shifts, resting against yours supportively as his breath brushes your hair. “I saw you leave with tears in your eyes, and I couldn’t stay away.”

Your heart clenches as you bite your lip. “Don’t… Vasya, please.” The diminutive slips out from memory as you draw your head away from his shoulder and fresh tears threaten. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

His brow creases with sad concern. “How can you say that when each day is already torture? Each day that I see your undimmed beauty and tender heart just as I remember. Each day that I hear him disrespect you so publicly over private matters. Each day that I… know you’ll never be mine to love and cherish as you deserve.”

Tears wet the corners of your eyes and you quickly try to wipe them away. “We had our time together. I just… I don’t know what else to say.”

“I wanted to marry you, zhizn moya.” His mouth curves with a sad, almost sheepish smile that doesn’t fit the brave man in uniform. “And I would have if your parents hadn’t stolen you from me. Assuming you would have had me, that is.”

Your breathing trembles as your heart aches. “Of course, I would have.” You whisper the admission like it’s your last lifeline as you drown in the sea of his eyes. “And if I could today, I still would.”

His eyes brighten as he smiles with unburdened relief. He regards you with all the love that you’ve ever known from him, and if life were simple, you’d melt in his embrace under the bliss of his kiss. But an impossible chasm spans between you, and your wedding band constricts you.

“Don’t be so sad, zhizn moya.” He says softly, free from reproach or judgment. “Just knowing that’s how you still feel is… enough. I can live with that.” He sounds like a weight has lifted from his shoulders, resolved with some secret course of action as his gaze darts cautiously to the window. “Perhaps if we were free to choose our paths,” he whispers with a hint of wild conspiracy. “If this were the land of dreams, we could make it so… but that is not this place.”

It's treacherous, dangerous talk. If anyone overheard him, you would both be arrested and sentenced for treason without question. You shake your head quickly with an uneasy breath. “Don’t even think those things, Vasya.” You caution in a rushed whisper. “I can’t bear the thought of you being imprisoned or worse… I couldn’t live with that.”

“You needn’t waste your worry on me -”

“As you worry about me, so I worry about you.” You implore as he sighs and the corner of his mouth lifts. Your heart beats wildly with reckless abandon as his gaze re-connects with yours. “Isn’t that…,” you whisper, trailing off as your voice trembles. “Isn’t that what love is?”

His smile softens with fond affection. “It didn’t used to be. The first afternoon that I saw you, my only worry was that you would turn me away before I even had a chance. And when you didn’t – nothing seemed impossible.”

“Every day was something to look forward to.” You agree, your smile growing to match his. “I’ll never forget… the afternoon at the cinema, when I caught your eye in a quiet moment and you brought my hand to your lips for a kiss. The first time you kissed me, and you just… you know, I can’t even remember what film it was because I just remember how much I wanted to never stop.” Your cheeks flush – and goodness, you’re a married woman but you’re blushing like a young schoolgirl. “You’ve always been so brave to act, so unashamed to say what you want – but you never once pushed or asked for more than I was ready to give.”

A modest blush dances high on his cheeks. “It is part of the wedding vows to honor my wife, and I wanted… well, to prove that to you.”

That one night you shared with him in your dormitory still burns, and your cheeks flush from the heated memory as you slowly nod. “I remember.” Your voice drops as if anything louder would make the moment less real as heat pools, low and needy in your core. “God, I wanted you so desperately… and then… on my wedding night,” your words whisper through your increasingly heavy breaths. “I wanted it to be you.” A tear falls down your cheek as you blink up at him. “I’ve only ever wanted it to be you.” 

His hand raises to cup your jaw, thumb swiping at the fallen tear before his mouth finds yours. You melt into his kiss, more tears springing to life at the overwhelming relief, at the outpouring of love in the tender embrace. His lips are just as warm and sure as you remember, and your body blooms with long dormant desire. 

You raise a hand to cover his, nuzzling into his embrace as your head tilts. He sighs against your mouth, and your tongue finds his parted lips. Arousal electrifies you as your tongues tangle, lost to everything but the touch and taste of each other. Despite everything at stake - despite the damning evidence of the moment should you both be discovered like this - none of it tears you away from him as you step closer into his embrace. 

You find the edge of his high uniform collar, caressing his tender skin with fingers that have nearly forgotten the feel of him. A whimper pitches high in your throat as his hand slides down the slope of your neck to rest with a heady, tempting promise against the junction of your shoulder. You move to your hand down to his shoulder with an encouraging squeeze, and the breath pushes from your lungs as he sweeps you up. 

The desperate ache in your core ignites tenfold as the back of your knees bump against the cushy couch. You can’t touch him enough as your mouths feverishly reconnect, and the coarse wool of his dress uniform only makes you want bare skin all the more. But if you’re truly going to steal this moment for yourself, then that luxury will have to wait. 

You coax him down with you, spreading your legs and rucking up your dress to accommodate the press of his lean hips. He moans, long and delicious, as his fingers find the soaking wet heat of you, and you tear at the catch of his belt and trousers. Panting heavily against each other’s mouth through sloppy kisses, clothing shuffles out of the way and you brace against the couch cushions. Azure fire burns in his intoxicating gaze as the hard tip of him rests against your dripping entrance for the space between breaths. He eases forward, and the thick, perfect stretch of him brings tears to your eyes as your fingers card through his hair, holding his gaze even as your eyelids flutter from the overwhelming connection. 

He trembles as he settles against you, and you hook a leg around him as you adjust to the full length of him pressed so deep. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted - and God, how can you possibly live without it now? The thought is stolen away as he draws back and rocks forward, filling you to the hilt and coaxing a whimpered cry from your lips. 

“You are heaven, zhizn moya.” He pants against your neck, and you nuzzle what skin you can reach in return - but it’s nowhere near enough. Sliding a hand around to his front, you clumsily tear at the two topmost buttons of his uniform until you can bury your face against the warm, soft skin of his throat. His hand wraps around the small of your back for better leverage, and you gasp as he shifts inside you and sighs. “Absolute heaven…”

His name falls from your lips in a litany of passion as a rhythm builds between you. You muffle your gasping cries against his skin as he touches the deepest places inside you with each strong thrust. Pleasure consumes you, hurtling you towards the blissful abyss as it robs your mind of coherent thought. You clutch the board muscles of his back - still so fit after all the years of naval service - and his quiet, serrated moans are the only sounds you want to hear for the rest of your days. 

Every muscle tenses, desperate for release as the tempo increases. He drives you ever higher, and surely, your heart will explode first. You can’t breathe for the euphoria that strangles you, and your moans pitch higher as you finally just - there. Your nails dig into the fabric of his uniform and a long, wrecked cry wells in your chest as you launch into mindless bliss. His guttural groan of answering relief sounds over the rush of blood in your ears, and you welcome the heavy weight of him as he slumps against you. 

Tears sting your eyes as you hold him close, peppering his skin with lazy kisses. You nuzzle the light mole on his right cheek as your mind floats back down to rejoin your body, along with the crushing weight of reality. Loss and heartbreak consume you as you cling to him in desperation. “D-don’t leave me,” you plead in the vulnerable moment, burying your face in his shoulder. “I don’t want to live without you anymore. Especially now – I just… can’t… I won’t.”

He sighs with weighted conflict as he nuzzles your brow, kissing you softly. “But you can… you will.”

A whimpering sob escapes you, shaking your head as you crumble. “I love you too much to let you go again.”

Another heavy sigh leaves him as he cradles you close for another stolen moment.

You snuggle against him, committing everything about this moment to memory. The contentment humming in your body, the soap-clean scent of his skin tinged with exertion, the toned weight of him, the press of him softening inside you. You never want the moment to end, and you tremble as your hands flatten against his back to crush him imploringly close. “You have to come back – promise me.” You don’t care if it’s a fair request or not as your words continue to pour forth. “He’s going to ruin me, Vasya. One way or another… I heard him plotting tonight – he’s always plotting, and now… now, he's set his sights on me and I don’t know what -” Your voice catches on a hiccupping sob.

“Not if you ruin him first.” His words whisper right in your ear and punch you in the stomach.

You turn towards him with wide eyes, tilting your head back to look at him. His eyes hold a dark, subversive edge tinged with apprehension, and your brow furrows in confusion. “I don’t understand… how could I possibly…?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Let’s call it a parting gift, shall we?”

You shake your head, staring back at him incredulously. “No… Vasya, I still don’t – that doesn’t make sense.”

He leans in again, pressing another kiss to your brow. “It will, zhizn moya. The Red October will sail with the tide, and I must go with her…” Another almost regretful sigh passes his lips. “I cannot stay, and you cannot come with me… however much I wish for it. But if I have a chance at finding freedom, then so should you.”

You shake your head against another tender press of his lips. “I still don’t understand –”

A loud, muffled thump outside the door startles you both, and you’ve pressed your luck for too long. The intimate moment shatters as he withdraws, leaving you empty and bereft in so many ways. He turns to readjust his uniform and you wince at the sticky mess congealing between your legs. You lack anything to truly clean yourself up, and hopefully you can still salvage your underwear on a trip to the toilet. Pushing up from the couch, your muscles twinge with a pleasant ache that you hope will make the memory of this moment last for days.

A sad smile comes to your face as you watch him fasten the topmost button of his smart uniform before smoothing his hair back into place. Or, rather, attempting to. “Here…” you say softly, stepping over to him and reaching up to tame a wild lock. “It’s unfair how good you still look… and I’m not just talking about the years.” You run your eyes over the lines of his face and down the fit of his uniformed chest. “Not one disreputable wrinkle about you.” You raise your other hand, swiping at your cheek, dismayed to come away with a black streak on your fingertip. “I must look like an awful mess… God, there’ll be no hiding it.”

“You’ve been beautiful from the first moment I saw you,” he says softly. “And that hasn’t changed, even now.”

Flattered embarrassment tinges your cheeks. “No matter how charming that sounds, it won’t hide my streaked makeup. Fortunately, I think there’s enough pins and hairspray in my hair that it won’t move for another week.”

He reaches a hand up to gently wipe at your damp cheek. “Anyone who chooses to judge you will only assume that you are upset, which isn’t far from the truth. Given what you’ve told me and how I found you here…”

You sigh, troubled. “That will only put Mikhail in a foul mood. He deplores any display of weakness or vulnerability.”

“You’re only human. He can’t expect any more of you than that.”

“A human, yes, but…” you draw a trembling breath as the painful memory surfaces. “Poisoned, he said. Poisoned in both womb and heart.”

Rage flashes in Vasily’s eyes as he stares back at you in open shock. “He said that… to you?”

“No. He said it to someone else and he… didn’t know that I overhead him.”

He closes the distance, enveloping you in a comfortingly possessive embrace as your arms fold around him on instinct. His lips press against the shell of your ear as he whispers. “Then I will not feel guilty if my child grows within you.” 

A stab of anxiety shoots through you despite the warm security of his embrace. You haven’t even considered the possibility of falling pregnant with his child until now… it just… Well, if it already hasn’t happened with Mikhail, then why would it happen now? And yet... part of your heart bursts with hope.

“Let him see that not only are you not poisoned…” Vasily continues softly. “Let him also see what he will never have.” The conviction in his voice takes your breath away. “A wife who loves him.”

You turn your head to kiss him, full of the enduring love that you’ve always felt for him. He matches you with a passion that takes your breath away and breaks your heart in equal measure. There’s no hope for any sort of future with him, and the longer you stay in his arms, you can’t deny it’s the kiss of farewell. You wish you could freeze time and stay locked in this room with him… but as you part with the need to breathe, you recognize the futility of wishing for what you can never have.

You sigh with a sniffle. “We should go before we’re discovered here… we’ve taken so much time already.”

He smiles full of tender reassurance; always so brave to stay true to himself. “And even if your husband were to come through that door right now, I wouldn’t regret a minute of it.”

“Neither would I.”

He takes a long look at you, as if committing everything about you to memory as his arms fall away. “I love you, zhizn moya. No matter what happens, never doubt that.”

The air sucks out of the room as he steps away, and your stomach sours. You don’t dare let yourself watch him walk away for fear that the last thread of your strength will snap. The door whispers open and closes with a soft thud that brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

Sobs shake your shoulders, and you heave for breath as your chest tightens. The sting of loss strangles you as you wipe away more fallen tears and lose yourself in uncertainty.

Just where the hell do you go from here?

The next day, a letter arrives. You don’t recognize the return address of the thick envelope postmarked two days ago as you turn it over in your hands. Your heart quickens as you glance around your home, confirming that you’re alone before slicing it open.

Dearest zhizn moya,

The days number fewer and fewer until we sail, and your unanswered question stays with me.

Only with you have I ever found true happiness. That first afternoon that you allowed me to join you at your table in the teashop filled me with such fear and hope. Fear that I would misstep at any moment and turn you away; and hope that has only grown into the love I still feel for you today. While eight months was nowhere near long enough, I wouldn’t trade those days together - nor everyday without you since - for the cost of never having met you.

One way or another, I don’t expect to return from this mission. With any luck, I will have found my freedom in the land of dreams, and the thought of leaving you trapped here breaks my heart. Forgive me if this is too bold – but should you wish a chance at freedom for yourself, all you need to do is post the enclosed, sealed letter. For your own safety, the contents of the letter shall remain undisclosed, but posting it should yield some proof about the man deemed more suitable to marry you.

To this day, I still wish I had been given that honor. And while I like to think that at some point I will marry, I know that she will not be you. Life is what we make of it, so they say, and I wish only the best for you, zhizn moya. You deserve all that is good and loving in this world, and I do hope that you find it. If not with me, then whoever you decide is worthy.

All my enduring love,Vasya

Tears fill your eyes as you quickly re-read the words. With the postmark dated before the party, he couldn’t have known what would transpire that night and this… is this meant to be his goodbye in case you didn’t speak that night? Your heart breaks anew and you choke on a gasping sob. The pain of loss still aches like a raw wound in your chest, and you blink away tears as you look at the front of the sealed, mysterious envelope.

Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti

Your eyes widen, snapping out of your heartbreak as the gravity of what you hold sinks in. You don’t have the first clue what Vasily has enclosed in this letter to the KGB but, goodness… are you really ready to get involved with the KGB? Your stomach sours with anxious fear and you quickly refold his letter before taking the stairs up to your bedroom. Reaching to open the bottom drawer of your vanity, you pop the false bottom and hide it all away from the world.

Maybe someday you’ll be ready to send that letter, but too much sadness and uncertainty fills you right now to make a decision.

The corner of Vasily’s mouth lifts. “Let’s call it a parting gift, shall we?”

Is this letter what he meant? Does he have some evidence on your husband or did he uncover something unsavory? As much as your husband presents himself as a party loyalist, you wouldn’t be entirely surprised to learn that he has at least one skeleton in his closet. Don’t all politicians?

The words of Vasily’s letter continue to churn in the back of your mind, but they bring an odd sense of closure. Between everything whispered in the stolen moments of passion and written on paper in ink, you can’t ask any more of Vasily Borodin. As much as you love him and always have, your time together is well and truly over.

That doesn’t give you any further clarity in the passing days about what to do with Mikhail. Now sitting at the dinner table, you cast him a wary glance over your plates of food. He hasn’t made any reference to anything resembling the conversation that you overheard at last weekend’s party, but that doesn’t bring you any relief. If anything, you wait on baited breath for when he will act or give you an ultimatum, but so far… only silence.

“I heard something quite interesting.” He says softly, drawing you attention as he sets his knife and fork down. “The Red October sank today. Or, rather…” he pauses to dab the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “She was destroyed. By the Americans.”

Your fork clatters to your plate as your stomach plummets to your feet. A shocked gasp leaves you as your heart races. “… w-what? Why would they do that?”

“We asked them to help us sink her.” He continues with a calculated, casual air. “Captain Ramius sent a letter to Admiral Padorin, and within minutes of that letter being read, he issued orders to find and sink the Red October.”

The letters sitting your vanity upstairs flash in your mind as you work a swallow down your throat. “D-do you know what the letter said?”

Mikhail’s mouth tightens to a grim line. “They say Ramius sailed with every intention of deploying missiles and igniting World War III. But there are also far darker whispers of treason and defection.”

“I cannot stay, and you cannot come with me… however much I wish for it.” Vasily whispers against your brow. “But if I have a chance at finding freedom, then so should you.”

Tears burn your eyes, and a hand flies to your face as you choke on air. Is it true? Was Vasily sailing with his captain to start a life in the new world? Was he turning his back on the nation he so valiantly served? Or was he simply the victim of a madman? Either way, it hardly matters now if his grave is indeed at the bottom of the Atlantic.

With a shaking hand, you reach for your napkin to wipe at fallen tears as your heart rips open. Saying goodbye a second time was hard enough, but this… knowing that there was never even another possibility to see him again…? You sniffle to hide a sob as you turn away from Mikhail’s increasingly judgmental gaze.

“Why are you crying?” He asks pointedly, tone heavy with displeasure. “If that madman – or worse, a traitor – is lying dead at the bottom of the ocean, that’s the best place for him.”

“What about everyone else on board?” You choke out, again wiping at your eyes. “What about all those other innocent souls?”

A tense silence falls in the room as Mikhail’s gaze narrows with cold suspicion. “Wait, this… is this about him? That petty executive officer – what was his name…? Borodin?”

A pang shoots through your chest and you fight to keep your face from betraying your true feelings. “No – yes, just… the newest ship in the fleet and all those souls aboard, just lost so suddenly….”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He spits in plain disgust. “Borodin – what was he to you? Tell me.”

Your heart hammers as you struggle to breathe. “He - he wasn’t… at least, not anymore - ”

A loud slap against the table rattles the dishes and startles your attention. Mikhail’s eyes blaze with rage as he glares at you, hand clenching against the tabletop. “I said. Tell. Me.”

Your spine stiffens even as your voice shrinks. “I… loved him. Before marrying you.” A tear slides down your cheek as you blink. “I-it was 12 years ago, and I haven’t seen him since –”

“Then why does the news of his death upset you so?” He shrugs carelessly. “People die every day. There’s a war happening for fuck’s sake, and he was a goddamn soldier. Expendable.”

Nausea cramps your stomach. “None of the men on that vessel or in any theater of war are expendable! They all have people who love them and care about them!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” He seethes. “After everything I’ve given you – my name, wealth, prominence. What do you think Borodin could have given you, hmm? A sad, small apartment where you just wait for him to make you a destitute widow?”

“Happiness, Mikhail! He may spend more time at sea than on land, but together, there would be happiness. And love! Unconditional love… not just dependent on whether or not he could get me pregnant.”

His nostrils flare with indignation. “So, you’re saying that it’s my fault, hm? My fault that you remain a motherless failure?”

A wave of shame washes over you, crippling you as more tears fall. You’ve never felt like you should be a failure in that regard, but yet… You draw a trembling breath. “That’s all you’ve ever done,” you grit through clenched teeth and sniffles. “You… devalue everything about me, like I’m no better than your plaything, your puppet, who exists just to make you look good!”

“That’s exactly what you are! Don’t you understand how this game works?!” He pushes to his feet, shaking the table from the force of his motion. He drops his face to his hand with deep concern. “How much did you interact with him, hmm? Would anyone have seen you? Would anyone have any reason to suspect a scandal?”

The abrupt shift in conversation stuns you. You gape up at him. “Is that really all that you can think about right now? Is that really all that you can say?!”

“It was obvious from the first moment you two saw each other that something was there.” He waves a dismissive hand as he starts to pace in deep thought. “If I noticed it, then surely others did, too. And I will have to answer for it if anyone asks –��

“And if I told you that he made love to me in the admiral’s upstairs study –”

Mikhail storms across the room, backhanding you across the face before you can finish. Pain blooms across your cheek as you hiss through the momentary disorientation.

“Never lie to me like that again.” He snarls, eyes furious. “Even in jest, it won’t end well for you.”  He draws a deep breath as a tense silence descends.

You refuse to look up at him and you can’t find words. You hadn’t exactly meant to blurt out the truth, but he didn’t believe you anyway. No matter what you say, you come to the sinking realization that you cannot win. You will never win.

Not with Mikhail.

He glowers down at you. “We should each take some time, yes? Time to think and… calm down.” He wipes a hand across his brow. “Once we’ve both done that, we can figure out how to solve this rotten mess that you’ve created.”

His footsteps thunder through the dining room before the door to his office slams shut.

You remain frozen in your chair as your cheek stings, and you sniffle unshed tears.

Vasily’s letters burn in the forefront of your mind, and your course of action is clear.

Two days later, you feel no remorse when you cross the city to deposit the sealed envelope in a postbox.

One week later, you receive word that your husband has been arrested on suspicion of high treason. 

But your world completely upends two weeks afterwards when tender pain forms in your breasts and morning nausea begins to manifest.

Fin

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil elections: Lula speaks of “useful” vote next Sunday

Brazilian Presidential candidate and former head of state Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva Monday spoke in favor of “the useful vote” in next Sunday's elections and called on Brazilians not to stay at home.

During a rally at Anhembi, in São Paulo, called “Super Live Brazil of Hope,” organized by Lula's wife Janja, Lula stressed it was necessary to “put an end to the war that has taken over this country since the arrival of the incumbent President Jair Bolsonaro.

”We are six days away from the most important election of our lives, an election that can put an end to the war that has taken over this country since the arrival of the current president. A war that has divided families, that has turned old friends into enemies, that has even made brothers shoot brothers inside the church. This needs to end, the sooner the better,” Lula said.

The Workers' Party (PT ) leader said Brazil was not at war with another country and needed unity among the population. “We are one step away from victory on October 2, there is still a little bit to go, just a little bit. In these few days that are left we need to work to win the vote of all and everyone, of those who love democracy. I always say that democracy is not a pact of silence, it is noisy.”

Continue reading.

[littleturtle95]

OCtober day 30, Paint

Prompts by @tkc-info

He had made an Instagram story with his painted nails, and the script Ready to piss off my parents at dinner. 

Federico had replied to it, he had left an heart on it and texted him For Christmas you’d need a red nail polish, not a purple one though.

Marco swallowed. He knew he should really not reply, that he should just like his text and leave him hanging, that Federico didn’t give importance to any of it, not like Marco did, so it did not make sense to chat. He could not resist to.

He replied It’s the only one I have and sent the message, his heart on his throat. The reply arrived sooner than expected. We can make it work, I guess, for now. But we need to fix that. Immediately followed by I like how it looks on you, btw. 

Marco held his breath.

[orphancookie69]

My Infertility Journey: Part 4

Yeah, future me needs to go in the past and tell past me to not be crazy. Well, they have not arrived yet-part four starts. The sooner I get in the drivers seat the sooner I park my car in the winners circle I hope....Just hopping on late? Here is Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. 

August 2022: 

A week after the ERA comes a cycle. This is highly unusual as it does not normally come that soon. Second half of the month is the start of round 4. Initial ultrasound and bloodwork scheduled to see if the body is on the starting line. Now let’s talk about the definition of insanity, it is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. Based on the ERA, I am perfectly fine and we have been doing this with proper timing-so initially they said we are going to move forward with no changes. At consultation, they mentioned adding Intralipids-IV injected twice during the process. I am open to this idea, more than the anti-coagulants, because I think my body can only handle so many injections. I only have two more embryos at this point, and while I want to make sure they have the best odds of sucess-there are physical limitations of being...ya know...human? 

The results from the blood work came back, my hormones were too high. So they are having me wait and we will reassess on next cycle. I am happy that this news came from the doctor, I felt like it was better to wait and give the body a break. But for some reason, it felt like it would not have as much credence as it does coming from the doctor backed by “data”. I am looking forward to my break and plan on getting a family trip to Havasu in before my next cycle. PARTAY! No but otherwise this is a great time to hunker down and see if I can’t get some good training in for game day. Using muscle stims, heat, massage, and exercise to promote healing of the area. Maintaining diet and exercise to see if I can’t lose anymore weight before then. 

September 2022: 

Have I ever mentioned how much of this process is PLAYING THE WAITING GAME? But waiting has its own perks. So far just waiting for a cycle to come, estimated to come around the middle of the month according to P Tracker, and see if hormone levels are good enough to move forward. Also, I am (heavily) playing with the idea of implanting two instead of just one. My own doctor says the odds are better with just one, but I have heard a lot of other doctors/patients have success with 2. Part of me really likes the idea of implanting both and having this be the last round, for better or for worse. We will see what the doctor says. 

So my body decided to get stuck in “period limbo” this cycle. I get all the feels but none of the results. Doctor did a “wellness check” on me and decided to reset my cycle with a week’s worth of Birth Control. Then we are going to move on the next cycle. I picked up my prescription and then took them, one a day, for a week. My doctor puts me on Enskyce, and man I usually get all of the side effects: migraines, nausea, and lack of energy. 

October 2022: 

Body goes into cycle and then on Cycle Day 5, we went in for an appointment. Ultrasound and bloodwork looked good, we updated my thyroid panel as well. Now starts injections and the new element this time-intralipids. They are to be done at a third party facility, Oso Home Care in Irvine, in week 4 (before transfer) and after transfer. I am (attempting) to schedule an appointment with Oso Home Care after my next Ultrasound/Bloodwork appointment with Fertility Care in Brea. Ya know the one appointment(s) before implant. It is kind of crazy how much happens in a month. 

Drugs: EV (Estradiol Valerate), Dex (Dexamethasone), P4 (Progesterone), hCG, Valium, Doxy (Doxycycline Hyclate), Medrol (methylprednisolone),

Vitamins: Baby Aspirin, Prenatal vitamins (NAC, Prenatal, Omega 3, L Arginine, Coq10, Myo Inositol, D3)

Suggestions: Keto diet/Fasting, Exercise, Proper Injection Guidelines.

Price: $5,000+ (Fertility Care), $100+ (MDR Pharmacy), $550 (Oso Home Care), 

Here are some Injection Guidelines:

Before: Ice the area

During: Inject the right area, Massage it after

After: Walk it off a bit, Use a heating pad

In Between: Arnica, Massaging to promote healing

Check: Infection (red, raised/bumpy, burning, itchy)

Note: Injections are intramuscular, and depending on the injection, there are only so many spots you can inject. Just because there are other muscles, does not mean you can use them even if your areas are “out of commission”. You just gotta keep them in commission!

The phone tag that was had was fun by all? Honestly as much as this is not my first rodeo and this should not worry me, the intralipids worry me a bit. Really the scheduling process being the slowest thing ever doesn’t help anything either. Be careful when doing research too, it is not always as helpful as you would think to know what you are signing up for. Also, the slow time between the first and second appointment where there is only an injection every 3 days is lovely. So I barely got my appointment for the intralipid place, if I did not call, that might not have happened. Then went in for the next ultrasound, the last one before implant. Ultrasound was good and blood work was TBD. 

This starts the next phase of the process. From here we add 4 hCG shots, add 2 times a day of p4, and continue with EV every 3 days. Also, for the hCG...the first injection has to be in the back area, but the smaller ones can go in the stomach to give the back a bit of a break. Round one of the Intralipids happens. The dexamethasone comes off the schedule just before implant-a couple of meds get added for a couple days around implant. Implant happens, this time it will be a boy (currently between the names Roland and Kai). After implant it is suggested for up to 3 days of rest. Then we move into November (after playing the waiting game) to confirm the pregnancy. 

Oso Home Care...Intralipids: Its a cute little place in Irvine. Kind of disorganized and busy but it would seem a lot people go to a facility like this. I got there early. I spent 2.5 hours in the chair. Yeah, kind of a long time. The gals that work there are sweet, but I don’t like how they had to prick both my arms to get it to work. I felt strange after? I am not sure how I was supposed to feel. Based on when I left and where home is, it took an hour to get home. But I hope in the future that since I am already in the system that booking is easier, and I kind of have a better idea of what to expect. Dress comfortable, don’t bring a book. 

Ovation Fertility...Implant: I always forget COVID never stopped being a reality for hospital establishments. I always forget to bring a mask to these things. Arrive 15 minutes early in Newport Beach, take a Valium an hour before. Implant goes well-go home and rest. Also, if they let your partner in-film the implant. 

Implant day is a day of rest, and this time I am trying to take two more days of rest after. I am an awful patient and this is hard for me to do. Post transfer we ran low on p4 so we transitioned to 1/2 crinone and 1/2 p4 for the every 12 hour injections. There are enough drugs on hand to get through to the pregnancy test and once confirmed, we stick with this or go all crinone. I don’t remember my last boys’ implant well but this time around, my left uterus feels like a battle zone a bit. 

Trimester Breakdown:

Part 1: 10/7-1/8

Part 2: 1/9-4/12

Part 3: 4/13-7/15

November 2022: 

An appointment was set up to have a blood draw/pregnancy test on 11/7. What was the time like before? I felt most, if not all, the symptoms. Pray tell, what are the symptoms of the first trimester?

First Trimester Signs: Nausea, Metallic Taste, Foggy Brain, Cramps, Tiredness, Breast Tenderness,

For me, and according to old wives tales, boys are supposed to be worse. This round definitely felt different as I felt very sore for up to a week after implant. Google says this is ok but man, it was kind of odd. The first blood test of Week 4/5 happened and TBD. If this goes well, I go two more times-two days apart. In theory the HCG a pregnant body produces should double every day. The first time you are able to view anything on an ultrasound is week 6. The next, and final, intralipid appointment would also happen that week. 

The first blood test was good and positive, the next blood test the values should of doubled...and they did not. They increased but did not double. The office wants me to see the third test before jumping to any conclusions. The second blood draw was a 15% rise. The third blood draw was a 66% rise, so they kept us on the schedule and we scheduled the first ultrasound at 6 weeks 4 days. They also had me schedule my second, and last, intralipid appointment for that same day. Prior to going to going into the first ultrasound, there were 50/50 odds that this is a viable pregnancy. 

We went in for an ultrasound and there was a gestational sac, but nothing that could be seen in the sac. They did a blood draw, to confirm the hCG is rising as a pregnant body should be. I had an intralipid appointment but they wanted me to move it, and wait for the results. The beta was rising, so we stay in the game another week. Order more drugs from MDR Pharmacy and scheduled another ultrasound for the end of the week. The intralipid appointment was moved to the same day as the next ultrasound. 

Oso Home Care...Intralipids: This trip was shorter, already in the system and they have an idea of how quickly you take the liquids and what not. I believe this time was about 3 hours? 

Also, I am keeping track of my weight, as women who are overweight before need to be careful how much weight they put on. When I checked on it, I actually had lost weight. Between my keto diet, morning sickness, and other pregnancy symptoms. In the first trimester one can lose a bit, but should this trend keep up in the second trimester...we got problems. Went in for the next appointment and while it was still not where it was supposed to be, there was improvement in both Beta (blood draw) and ultrasound findings. By this time I am almost 8 weeks along and there should be some major organs created, like the heart. 

December 2022: 

The next ultrasound would be interesting as it was kind of the determined trip to “call it”. Why would I want to call it? Because since implant, it has been very “we don’t have good news but we have not bad news so keep injecting”. And the body can only take so much for something that they said was most likely to end in bad news? But the doctor makes a good point that while certain things should be in place by this appointment, babies can be “past their due date” so if they are slow to grow, as long as they grow, it is fine? As the train carrying the passenger, the “limbo” is annoying as hell. 

The Week 8 Ultrasound: Yeah, so that went about as good as that was going to. The doctor finally called it. It is sad, bumming, annoying, frustrating, relieving yet unwantedly so. They are three options to resolve this round: to let it happen naturally, use drugs to help “speed things along”, or get a D&C. For now, we are going to cancel medications and assess in another couple of days. Did a blood draw to see where the beta is, and establish a comparison point for declines in the future. 

For the next blood draw, I could of gone to my Fertility Care office-but with us at the sad end of the process-and them not being part of our insurance-we decided to finish the process in slightly more complicated insured way. They ordered the blood draw at Quest Diagnostics. I made an appointment and the results were sent to Fertility Care. I have seen some insurance that covers infertility, but for the most part that is a sad joke. Some jobs cover that too. If you need that as an option, it’s worth looking into. 

Pay attention to your body. I had sharp pains on my lower left abdomen area the day before the blood draw. Like, bad enough to make me basically pointless the rest of the night. The next day they continued, and I called it in. I am now on the alert for heavy bleeding and those pains, as the combination means bad news. But should be signs the body is starting the miscarriage process. To speed things up, they put me on Letrozole and Acetaminophen-COD. This will be my first time having a drug induced natural miscarriage.  

Four pills at night for 7 nights, bleeding can last up to a week. Blood was being drawn at Quest Diagnostics and the beta hcg was going down. I used pads for a week to “measure” how much I was bleeding, more than two pads in two hours was bad news. Blood draw to see where we were at, luckily enough for all involved-there was no hemorrhaging. The second week of miscarriage recovery-less blood, less medications, but no less feels? Research shows it could take up to 6 weeks for my body to get back to “normal”. There are some herbs and vitamins I can take to help, but mostly it was rest and food and relaxation. 

So, what happened? While there are no answers, there is a scientific name for this. Funny how that works out huh? Here is what I think happened: 

“ A blighted ovum, also called an anembryonic pregnancy, occurs when an early embryo never develops or stops developing, is resorbed and leaves an empty gestational sac. The reason this occurs is often unknown, but it may be due to chromosomal abnormalities in the fertilized egg.” (Source: https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/pregnancy-loss-miscarriage/expert-answers/blighted-ovum/faq-20057783)

Because this is an IVF process, and everything is tested and in some ways controlled, I doubt it is because of any chromosomal abnormalities. But it is crazy how many variations of miscarriages are out there. And really, even in the same person’s journey-no two are the same. Oh to know so much yet so little. 

Honestly, this is a very tough process. I am not sure what to think. Doctor thinks we should implant (IN ME) the last embryo, possibly changing nothing, and see if it works when I am mentally and emotionally ready. For now, the only thing for sure is its BREAK TIME. Is it too soon for a surrogate? I don’t understand how I can be such a medical mystery. It is a very strange feeling.