#edge nurse saga

[virtualgirlafterdark]

Nurse, from over my shoulder: Edging only has one E

Me: oh thanks

*Nurse walks away*

Me: oh...wait, fuck, ohno

[acupoftaewithsomesuga]

“Cured” • Yeosang Kang

doctor!yeosang x fem nurse!reader

summary• you have been working with Dr. Kang for years as his chief nursing officer in his family medicine clinic. You both became friends after working with him for so long and gained a bond with him. But this bond slowly turned into more than just a friendship. 

warnings• friends to lovers, smut, pet names (love, darling, baby), oral fem! receiving, nipple play, handjob, unprotected sex, passionate sex, rough sex, dirty talk, squirting. (tell me if I forgot something.)

videos/audios to view before reading•

w/c• 8.3k 

a/n• I have had this one in my drafts for a long time and I was finally able to finish it! I was genuinely battling so much trying to write this one so if some of it sounds broken up that's because I was going back and forth with myself on this smut and how I wanted to portray Yeosang. Anyway, enjoy! I will be working on either a Seonghwa or Wooyoung smut next to complete the OT8 saga! 

taglist• @joongss @mingisdoll @st4rhwa @sugarnspice630 @joongiesmoon @sanipan @no1likevie @woohwababes @hongjoongswife1 @blackb3ll @staytiny23 @ccalyse @strawberry-qrcode 

network• @othersideoutlawsnetwork

•masterlist•

You plop onto the leather chair, feeling your body sink into it. It was the end of your long shift and you couldn’t feel happier. These past few days have been long and stressful so when you were finally able to sit down it was a relief. As the Chief Nursing Officer, you had many responsibilities when it came to clients so you and Yeosang needed to have frequent meetings about patients. You have been working for Yeosang for years allowing you both to grow comfortable and close to each other. You both had a very tight friendship outside of work as well but recently the friendship has been on edge. Yeosang in a work setting and him outside of work are 2 different Yeosang's. At work, he is very professional with you and his colleagues. He can come off as very stern and demanding when he is at work. But when you are both by yourself he comes off very shy. All the years you have known Yeosang you have seen him as a shy person that only talks when he is comfortable. It took a few months for you to get Yeosang to open up to you but you didn’t mind because his company was enough. 

One night you and Yeosang hung out at his house to have drinks. This was a normal occasion for the both of you but things went a little differently than you expected. You were both on the couch just watching a documentary when you decided to place your head on Yeosang’s shoulder. Yeosang likes his personal space, so it surprised you when he didn’t move out of the way. You didn’t think much of it but you soon realized that Yeosang placed his hand on your inner thigh. You felt his hand squeeze tightly causing you to look up at him. He met your gaze and you just looked at each other for a minute. He moved closer to you to kiss you but you turned away. You were so drunk and you couldn’t comprehend the situation at the time but all you knew was that if you kept going you would both end up fucking each other. You didn’t want that, at least not yet. 

You keep replaying that night over and over again in your head to the point where you can't look at Yeosang without thinking of the naughtiest thoughts. The way his veins popped out of his hands when he squeezed your thighs turned you on the most. You kept replaying how needy he looked when he stared into your eyes. The soft little whimper that escaped his lips when you moved your head away. The thought of him has been driving you insane since that night and you genuinely didn’t know how to feel about your friendship with Yeosang. 

You were soon broken out of your trance when Yeosang walked into his office. He had his signature white lab coat on with his stethoscope draped around his neck. Under his lab coat, he had a black turtle neck that fit tight around his upper body. He had his black glasses on, which made him look extremely adorable. He had his paperwork in his hand ready to go over the reports for the day. Yeosang greeted you with a smile before sitting down and talking over the patients’ cases. 

He continued to talk like nothing happened between you over the weekend. Was he that drunk? Or is he just good at avoiding conflict? You were so confused and you started to wonder if what happened last weekend happened. Yeosang went on about the influx of patients and the statistical growth of the clinic. But honestly, you weren't hearing anything he was saying. You heard his voice fade as you stared at him. You continued to nod now and then just so it looked like you were actively listening. The way he smiled at you warmed your heart. His smile was so infectious, you couldn’t help but smile back. “Y/n, I want to thank you for working hard and being my right-hand man. I couldn’t do any of this without you.” his sudden comment took you aback for a second. “Oh- it’s my pleasure, Dr. Kang,” you expressed, flashing his professional name before bowing. When you were in the workplace, you always kept it professional, but outside of work, you treated each other as close friends. You both agreed that unprofessional behavior in the workplace wouldn’t be allowed. 

Yeosang suddenly smiled before getting up from his seat. You just stared at him not realizing that he wanted to hand you the paperwork before he left. “Oop, I’m sorry,” you apologized rising from your seat and reaching out for the paperwork. Your fingertips brushed against Yeosangs as you grabbed them from his hand. Your eyes meet and he immediately looks away, lightly laughing to himself in embarrassment. “We don’t have to be awkward about this Yeosang,” you uttered before looking back at him. Yeosang suddenly looked at you in confusion. “Y/n what are you talking about?” He asked innocently trying to look as if he didn’t understand what you were saying. You looked at him and tilted your head to the side. Was he serious? “Last weekend Yeosang..” you said looking at him, your eyebrows raised. Yeosang’s eyes widened, and his face started to turn a subtle shade of pink as he realized what you were referring to. He looked down, his eyes fluttering, and his voice dropping down a little above a whisper. “O-oh. that,” he said before trying to clear his throat. You looked at him with concern, you had never seen him this flustered before. “I don’t know what you are talking about y/n.” He said with confidence looking up at you. 

“Yeosang, you don't remember? You tried to kiss me while we were drunk last Saturday. I turned away from you. Y-you whimpered in displeasure when I moved my head away from yours.” You said trying to recall his memory so he couldn't deny what happened. You watched Yeosang’s ears turn bright red as he listened to your words, his eyes darting back and forth between yours and the wall. He opened his mouth to deny it again, but then his gaze dropped, looking at the floor, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “I-I think I remember, but I didn’t do it on purpose.” he expressed looking up at you, trying to see if you believed his lie.

He was so adorable when he tried to explain himself, all you could do was smile. You were looking at him but he didn’t dare to look at you directly. His eyes were darting around the room and he suddenly became fidgety. You could tell he was anxious and on edge, you wanted to fix that. Without thought you put the papers down on his desk and placed both of your hands on his cheeks, pulling him closer to you. “Yeosang, it's okay,” you said softly, rubbing your thumb on his cheek, “this would be so much easier for us if you just said you like me.” You saw Yeosang close his eyes and take a deep breath before speaking. “I’m scared y/n. I'm scared of ruining our friendship, of not being good enough for you.” he paused and took another deep breath before continuing, “But if I'm being honest with myself. I think I might be in love with you.” His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mix of fear and hope as if he was waiting for your response to determine the fate of his heart. All you could do at that moment was smile at his sweet confession, your heart melting. “That’s all I needed you to say Sangie,” you whispered, pulling his closer to your face. You felt Yeosangs arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. You both closed your eyes as your noses brushed against each other, followed by your lips colliding together. 

Both of your faces became warm and flushed with a vibrant shade of pink. Your heart was pounding out of your chest to the point where you could feel your pulse through your fingertips. You pulled away and looked up at Yeosang, light laughs then came from both of you. Your head started to spiral as you continued kissing each other softly. You felt Yeosang’s hands roam down your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he pulled you even closer. You felt his lips curve into a smile of satisfaction against yours. He pulled away gently and pressed his forehead against yours. “Well, I was thinking... maybe we could start by making this official,” he said, his voice filled with confidence. "You know, as a couple. If you'd like, that is. We have known each other for a few years now and have made many memories together. In other words, I would like to be with you and only you.” He asked, squeezing onto your waist anticipating you to say yes. “Absolutely Yeosang,” you agreed, your eyes sparkling with adoration. Yeosang's eyes lit up with joy as he pulled you closer to him and laid another kiss on your lips. He pulled back slightly, his face inches from yours, and whispered, "I'm so happy, y/n. I promise to make you proud to call me your boyfriend." You giggled slightly at the thought of him thinking you weren’t proud of him. “I’m already proud Yeosang, you are everything I ever wanted.” You confessed, causing his cheeks to flush a gentle pink as he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

He caught your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. "I have a surprise for you," he said, his voice low and mysterious. “Hmm?” You hummed, looking at him with curiosity, your heart pounding as he made his way to his desk drawer and pulled out a small box. "I've been planning this for a while now," he said, opening the box to reveal a beautiful silver necklace with a small, intricately designed locket. "I want you to have this," Your heart was racing as he pulled out this pretty necklace, his fingers rubbing against the locket. “Oh wow- Sangie it’s beautiful. How long have you been planning this?” You asked, looking at him with admiration. Yeosang's smile grew wider as he gazed at you, his eyes filled with adoration. "I've had it for a few weeks now," he admitted, his voice low and husky. "I was waiting for the perfect moment to give it to you. And I think this is it. I was going to give it to you last Saturday but everything kinda didn’t go as planned," he confessed, causing you to look at him apologetically. 

You ran your hand against his arm, kissing him on his cheek. “It’s so pretty baby, I love it so much. Thank you.” You smiled before turning around and moving your hair out of the way so he could put it on you. Yeosang's face lit up with joy as he fastened the necklace around your neck, his fingers brushing against your skin. He turned you around to face him, his gaze fixated on the locket now resting against your chest. "You look beautiful," he whispered, his eyes shining with emotion. “Thank you so much baby,” you cooed grabbing his hand and holding it softly before planting a light kiss on his lips. Yeosang's eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He deepened the kiss, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. 

After a moment, he broke away, his breathing slightly ragged. "I love you." You smiled hearing those words come out of his mouth. You would usually say that as friends but hearing that come from him as your partner made your heart flutter. “I love you too. Thank you for loving me,” You said before caressing his cheek. “Yeosang…” you said shyly looking up at him. Yeosang's eyes locked onto yours, his expression soft and tender. He leaned in, his forehead touching yours, as he whispered, "What is it, my love?" His voice was gentle, inviting, and full of affection. “I-I don’t want to be alone tonight. Can I please stay with you?” you asked your eyes gleaming with anticipation. You saw a smile form on Yeosang’s face radiating warmth and comfort. “You never have to ask my love,” he whispered, the sudden nickname made your heart swell causing you to melt right into his hands. “You're always welcome to stay with me, tonight and every night.” He expressed pressing his forehead against yours again. “Thank you baby.” you expressed, pressing your head on his chest before saying “Should we get going? It's been a long week.” Yeosang chuckled, pulling you closer to his body. "I think we've earned a break after this week," he agreed, nodding. "Let's get going. I have a few things planned to help us unwind." He smiled mischievously, leading you towards the door by your hand. You looked at Yeosang lifting your eyebrows at his so-called plans for unwinding. 

You were feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves getting the best of you. Yeosang and you have been friends for years and you have been to his house on multiple occasions but the thought of the both of you being in his home as lovers and not just friends caused your head to spiral. As you walk out of the door Yeosang's grip is gentle, the feeling of a reassuring grasp. "Hey, you okay? You look a little nervous," he asked looking at you with slight concern. “No, I’m good, I promise. It’s just that we are actually together. Like it’s official.” You nervously chuckled. Yeosang's smile softened, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "I know it's a big change, but I want you to know that nothing's changed between us, except that now we get to explore this new side of our relationship together," he said, his voice low and gentle.

Yeosang always had the best responses. It just reminded you of how much you liked him. Your nerves started to subside as you made it to his car. As you reached the car, Yeosang unlocked the door and opened it for you, helping you in with a gentle gesture. He then walked around to the driver's side, sliding into the seat with ease. "So, I was thinking…” “Yes?” you grabbed your seatbelt and buckled it. He started the engine and began to drive, his eyes flicking to you for a moment before returning to the road. "I was thinking we could head to my place, and have a quiet night in. I can cook us something, and we can just relax together," 

You looked at him flashing him a cute tiny smile before nodding your head. “Yes! That would be great!” You were always gleaming with excitement when Yeosang offered to cook. His lips formed a smile, followed by his chuckling. "I'm glad you're excited. I've been experimenting with some new recipes, and I think you'll like what I've come up with," he confessed. “Please tell me more,” you said shifting your eyes from the road to Yeosang. “Well, I've been wanting to try my hand at making some of my favorite dishes, and I think I've finally perfected a bulgogi recipe," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. Your eyes lit up at the thought of Yeosang making bulgogi for dinner. “Bulgogi! I have been craving that for the past few weeks,” you expressed, flashing him an adorable smile. "Ah, really? I'm glad I decided to make it then! I'll make sure to add some extra marinated beef just the way you like it.” 

You couldn’t help but blush at the fact that Yeosang knows you so well. He knows exactly what you love and that amplifies the love you have for him. He noticed your blushing and his eyes softened, his expression filled with affection. He reached out and gently placed his hand on your thigh, his fingertips grazing the fabric of your scrubs. "I should know what you like, after all this time," he whispered, his voice low and husky. You started to feel shy at his words and his touch. Your heart facing as he flirted with you effortlessly just making him more attractive than he already is. He chuckled softly as he saw the effect his words had on you. He continued to drive, but his hand remained on your thigh, his thumb tracing gentle circles on you. "You're still so cute when you're flustered," he whispered, causing your heart to beat faster. You looked at your watch and your heart rate went from 78 to 105. 

He followed your gaze to your watch and raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Ah, I think my nurse's heart rate just spiked. Perhaps I should take a look at those vitals," he teased. You giggled at his comment, rolling your eyes and placing your hand on top of his. He smiled in satisfaction knowing that he successfully annoyed you. He turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his smile growing wider. "I think we're going to have to get your vitals checked more frequently," he whispered, his voice husky with intimacy. You squeezed his hand back looking up at him. “Is that so?” He nodded, his eyes locked on yours, the spark of attraction between you palpable. "Mmhmm," he murmured, his voice low and suggestive. "I think it's necessary for your overall health and well-being," he added, rubbing his thumb against your skin. You couldn’t help but giggle at his playful teasing feeling your heart rate rise again.

Yeosang turned into his driveway, coming to a slow halt, and putting his car in park. He chuckled and leaned in closer to you, whispering against your ear. "I think we're getting close to a diagnosis," he whispered. "You're exhibiting all the classic symptoms of attraction." Your heart was pounding against your chest seeing Yeosang like this. You were so used to seeing him in different ways but this one was entirely new. You liked how he was slowly taking control of you. He wasn’t overly possessive about it but somewhat gentle and playful. He straightened up, his eyes never leaving yours, and he gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your pulse quicken even more. "I think we need to take some further action to treat this condition," he suggested before kissing your cheek. Your cheeks started to flush at his comment, looking up at him shyly. 

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement, and he leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he whispered, his breath caressing your skin. "I promise to make it a painless procedure," he added causing you to squeeze your thighs together, trying to keep your composure. You both haven’t even got inside the house and you were already flustered by him. Your desire for him grows with every teasing comment. He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours, and he reached out to gently brush his thumb against your lower lip. "I think we're going to have a very thorough examination," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Shall we proceed?" In this moment you felt like you couldn’t use your words properly. You were shocked at his comment but you nodded in agreement causing him to smile at you playfully. 

He opened his door before running to your side and opening your door, guiding you out of the car. Once you got out he intertwined his fingers with yours, guiding you to the front door. He took out his keys and unlocked the door, opening it swiftly. You were met by the familiar look and smell of the house, making it feel like your second home. As you stepped inside, he followed closely behind, his fingers still intertwined with yours. He closed the door behind him, the sound of the lock clicking into place making you feel a sense of intimacy wash over you. "Welcome home," he said, taking his shoes off at the door. You giggled pulling him in closer and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Do I get a housewarming gift?” You said playfully, feeling more comfortable knowing that you were in the comfort of his house and not trapped in the car. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer as he chuckled, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Oh, I think I can arrange something special for you," he whispered, his hands sliding down to rest on the curve of your hips. "But first, let's get you…” His eyes locked onto yours, a mischievous glint sparkling in his gaze. He leaned in, his lips inches from yours, and whispered, "Comfortable." With that, he swept you off your feet, lifting you into his arms as if you weighed nothing. You giggled in excitement as he carried you, your hand resting on his chest as he guided you to his bedroom. He opened the door and he carried you across the threshold of his bedroom. He set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your waist as he gazed at you with an admiring look. "You look lovely in my bed." You couldn’t help but blush at his comment knowing that he had fantasized about taking you on his bed multiple times before. He noticed the flush rising to your cheeks and his smile grew wider, his eyes burning with a soft, tender intensity. "I think it's time for that examination," he whispered, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline as he leaned in closer. "Is that heart rate of yours still going up?” he questioned looking down at your watch. You instantly nodded your head looking at him with pure desire. You gripped onto his sheets before whispering, “Is there a way you could help me?”

His pupils dilated as he gazed at you. He leaned in closer, his warm breath whispering against your ear. "I think I can prescribe something to help you relax," he whispered, his fingers tracing the edge of your collarbone, causing your breathing to hitch.“I-is there a way that I can pick up the prescription today? I don’t think I can wait any longer,” you breathed, playing along with him, running your hand down his chest. He chuckled low in his throat, his chest vibrating against your hand. "I think I can arrange something," he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "But first, I need to examine you a bit more thoroughly," he whispered, his fingers sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. You looked at him with needy eyes as you felt his hand make its way up to your chest, his hand pressing against where your heart would be. He looked at you for a minute before speaking, making you whine with anticipation. “Your beats per minute is still high my love,” he commented, moving his hand down to your boob. His thumb began to trace gentle circles around your nipple, his touch making your head spiral. "I think I need to take your pulse in a few other places."

Your breath hitched and you jumped slightly at the feeling of Yeosang’s thumb touching your nipple. Your eyes started to close slightly as you looked at him with desire and desperation. “S-sangie you’re going to get enough of teasing me like this,” you breathed trying hard to hold back a moan. His thumb continues teasing circles around your sensitive peak. "Oh, my love, I'm just getting started," he purred, his other hand sliding down your stomach to the waistband of your scrubs. "And I want to make sure I cover all the vital areas." Your eyes grew wide as you felt his fingers trail down and lightly tease the skin under your panties. This feeling started to become too much for you, making your core clench. He chuckled as he continued his explorations. "It seems you're quite reactive," he observed, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric to stroke the soft, heated flesh beneath. "I think I need to take a closer look at the problem area." You whimpered and grabbed onto his arm feeling an overwhelming amount of pleasure in multiple areas. He starts to glide his fingers against your soaked core causing you to finally moan. 

He groaned at the sound of your moan, his fingers delving deeper, stroking through the slick evidence of your arousal. “So- wet already," he murmured, his thumb finding your sensitive clit and circling it gently. "I'd say this requires immediate attention.” “Yeosang please-,” you breathed looking at him with half-lidded eyes, not truly knowing what you were begging for. His eyes darkened with lust and he bit down on his lower lip. "Please, what, my dear?" he whispered, his thumb still rubbing circles on your sensitive bud while his other thumb was caressing your nipple. "Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you." You whined softly, gripping his arm tighter. “Please-“ you begged again, not being able to utter any words.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he breathed, "If you don’t tell me what you want baby I’ll stop.” You felt your cheeks turn hot at his subtle demand, your fingers gripping tighter onto his arm. “Don’t stop…” you pleaded, looking into his eyes. His gaze locked onto yours, softly biting onto his lower lip. "Don't stop what, baby? Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you." He emphasized his point by stilling his fingers, leaving you aching for his touch. You looked at him shyly, feeling slightly embarrassed by how good he was making you feel and how responsive you were being. He sensed your neediness, his fingers resuming their gentle strokes. "Shh, don't be shy," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "You're safe with me. I only want to make you feel good." 

“Yeosang, can you please make love to me?” You expressed your voice in a low whisper. His eyes locked onto yours, a spark of desire igniting in his depths. He stopped moving his fingers against your sensitive bud and peak and leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft tender kiss. "I've been waiting to hear those words, baby," he whispered, his voice filled with restraint. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" You paused thinking about his question. You haven’t been in a relationship in a while and Yeosang was going to be the first man in years that you have given yourself to. Your desires and fantasies of Yeosang were finally coming true but in a sense, you were scared of being hurt. You knew for sure that Yeosang wouldn’t do anything to hurt you so you gave into your temptations, caressing his arm and kissing him slowly. “I’m ready,” you breathed, staring into his eyes. His gaze never wavered, his eyes burning with intensity as he searched for any sign of hesitation. Seeing only conviction, he nodded slowly, his lips curling into a gentle smile. "I'll take care of you," he whispered, his words sending a thrill through you. 

“I know you will,” you breathed placing your hand on his cheek and pulling him in closer, pressing your foreheads together to show a sign of trust. “I’m yours Yeosang,” you whispered placing a passionate kiss on his lips. You felt his hand trail up to the hem of your shirt, tugging at it softly. You broke the kiss for a second as Yeosang lifted your shirt above your head, your necklace he gifted you falling onto your chest causing a soft smile to show on Yeosang’s face. “I’m yours, y/n.” he breathed, his hands gripping your thighs. "I'll always be yours, and you'll always be mine," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

You felt yourself melting under his touch and words, causing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders pulling him in for another kiss. He obliged, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed your back. His fingers grazed your skin, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. He moaned softly, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pulled you closer, his body pressed against yours. Your hands moved their way to his v-line, rubbing it softly before curling your fingertips around the hem of his turtleneck. A low groan escaped him as your fingers brushed against his sensitive skin. He tilted his head, giving you better access as you slowly tugged his shirt up, exposing his chest. His skin was smooth and warm to the touch, and you felt his breath hitch as your fingers danced over his collarbones.

You started to rub your fingertips up and down his body, looking up at him and watching his reactions to your touch. His stomach tightened as you trailed your fingers over his skin. He was slightly whimpering as your fingertips made intimate contact with him. You moved your hands up, grazing over his chest before running down his arms to his hands. You moved his hands to your scrubs, wanting him to undress you further. He whispered your name, his voice barely audible, as his hands hesitated for a moment before grasping the hem of your scrubs. You moved up your hips slightly from the bed allowing him to slide them off of you. As he pulled the scrubs down, his fingers moved against your skin. He tossed the garment aside, his eyes never leaving yours, and then his gaze slowly trailed down your body, taking in every inch of you. His breath caught, and he whispered, "You're beautiful." Yeosang’s compliment caused you to blush slightly. He stepped closer to you, reaching out to gently brush a few strands of hair out of your face before leaning in to brush his lips against yours in a soft kiss. 

“And you’re extremely handsome,” you murmured against the kiss trailing your hands down to his belt, unbuckling it. You felt him moan against you as you unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long Sangie,” you confessed, tugging down at his pants and letting them fall to the ground. He groaned, his lips parting from yours as he looked down at you with a burning intensity. His eyes seemed to flash with desire as he looked at your face, his chest heaving with rapid breaths. He stepped out of his pants, his eyes never leaving yours, and kicked them aside. 

You bit your lip seeing his change in demeanor, seeing how he was fighting the urge to tear your remaining clothes off and ruin you on the spot. But instead of doing that, he was allowing you to guide the whole situation just to make sure you were comfortable. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your thighs. He started to rub gently, his eyes following your every move. You reached behind your back and unhooked your bra causing your straps to loosen on your shoulders. His breath started to become hitched as you removed the bra from your chest, exposing yourself to him. His eyes widened, and his hands stilled on your thighs as he took in the sight of your bare chest. His fingers dug gently into your skin as if trying to anchor himself. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and his fingers twitched with restraint. He looked up at you, his eyes burning with desire, and whispered, "So perfect- you're absolutely perfect," his voice thick with longing. You could tell he couldn't resist anymore, leaning forward to capture one of your nipples between his lips, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hands moved up to cup your breasts, thumbs grazing over your other nipple.

You felt the sensation run through your body causing you to gasp his name. You ran your fingers through his hair pushing him closer to your chest. He moaned softly against your nipple, the vibration sending intoxicating sensations throughout your body. He sucked gently, his tongue laving over your nipple as his hands kneaded the soft flesh of your boob. He was lost in the taste and feel of you, his need to possess and claim you growing with every passing moment. You continued to moan in ecstasy, feeling your soaking wet core start to throb. 

His lips released your nipple, it wet from his saliva. He looked up at you with lust-filled eyes as his large hands slid down your body, fingers dancing over your skin, teasing and caressing. He reached the apex of your thighs and gently pushed your legs apart, looking at your soaked panties. “Fuck baby…” he breathed at the sight of you, his dick twitching against the fabric of his boxers. He placed himself between your legs and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you. In response, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he moved you further up the bed. He hovered over you and placed kisses on your neck as his hand rubbed your thigh gently. “I love you baby,” he breathed against your neck before trailing kisses down to your chest, stomach, and thigh. “I love you too,” you moaned, feeling his breath close to your heated core.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down, exposing your glistening, swollen pussy to his hungry gaze. He groaned low in his throat at the sight, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "You're so wet for me already.” You whined looking at him, “Only for you Yeosang.” He groaned at your response, dipping his head and placing a soft, open-mouthed kiss on your core, his warm breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. You felt him lick a slow, sensual path from your entrance to your clit, swirling his tongue around the bud before sucking it gently into his mouth. You gasped eagerly followed by a broken moan feeling the sensation of him rapidly sucking on your swollen clit. His mouth moved in a fervent rhythm, sucking and licking with increasing intensity. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open to his hungry mouth as he reveled in the taste and scent of you. “S-sangie!” You groaned, reaching down and pressing his head further down on top of your core. 

“Don’t stop.” You begged, pulling your legs up further into the air. He obliged, hooking your knees over his shoulders, opening you wider to his greedy mouth. His tongue delved deeper, thrusting inside you as his thumb ran circles against your clit, the dual sensations driving you closer to the edge. He moaned against your pussy, the vibrations adding to your overwhelming pleasure. You threw your head back in ecstasy, your fingers grasping onto his hair gently as you felt him please you. Your head started to spiral as you felt his other hand reach for your boob, his middle finger flicking your hardened nipple. A guttural moan escaped your lips feeling everything being touched at the same time. You were embarrassingly close just from him touching you like this for only a couple of minutes.

He could feel your walls clenching around his tongue, your juices coating his face as he ate you out. Your hand gripped onto his forearm and the other gripped onto the sheets. You were moaning loudly the sound echoing through the room. “Yeosang… so close…” you expressed feeling your core twitch. He increased the pace, his tongue delving deeper, his thumb flicking faster over your swollen clit, coaxing your orgasm to the surface. He could feel your body tensing, your pussy spasming around his tongue. “Yeosang! Fuck!” you moaned loudly feeling the knot in your stomach pop causing you to release all over his mouth. He lapped up every drop of your release, his tongue gently soothing your sensitive core. Your legs started to shake as you rode out your high, Yeosang continuing to rub your sensitive clit slowly with his thumb. Once your trembling eased, he slowly released your legs from his shoulders, pressing gentle kisses to your inner thighs before crawling up your body to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. You pressed your tongue into his mouth, tasting your sweet juices on his tongue. You moaned into the kiss, biting his bottom lip in desperation. 

He groaned into the kiss, his hands roaming your curves as he devoured your mouth, his own desire growing at the taste of you on his lips. He broke the kiss, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you. "I need to be inside you baby." Your heart rate quickens at his words, feeling like you are going to explode at the thought of Yeosang being deep inside you and finally stretching you out. “Please…” you plead, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Are you sure? Is that okay?” He asked for reassurance and consent to ensure you were 100% sure you wanted him. 

You slid your hand on his side and down to the fabric of his boxers, continuing to make intimate eye contact with him. His breath started to become rigged at the feeling of your fingertips on his skin. You trailed your hand down to his hard member pressed against his boxers. Tracing his shaft with your fingertips, feeling how thick he was. He moaned slightly as he felt your palm press against his length, making his twitch against your hand. “Take them off.” You whispered watching his eyes darken at your request. He sat up and curled his fingers around the hem of his boxers, pulling them down slowly as he looked at you. 

He watched your reaction as you saw his dick spring out, smirking at your wide eyes. Without hesitation, you grabbed onto his dick and started to pump him up and down causing him to involuntarily buck into your hand. “And Sangie I’m 100% sure I want you inside me.” Yeosang threw his head back at your words, a groan coming from him as you continued to stroke him. Your thumb ran circles against his tip, rubbing his precum across it as you whispered, “Please fuck me.” He leaned down, claiming your lips once more in a searing kiss, his tongue twirling with yours as he guided the broad head of his cock to your entrance, teasing you. "Tell me you want this, baby. Tell me you need my cock inside you." You looked at him with pleading eyes and whined, “Yes Yeosang please.” Your fantasies almost being satisfied made your core throb. 

At your desperate plea, he slowly pushed forward, the head of his cock entering your entrance. You felt your core desperately clench around his tip, your body going into shock at the feeling of him. He paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the sensation of his thick girth stretching you out. "You feel so tight, baby," he whimpered, his voice strained. You felt him ball up the sheets near your head. You watched him shut his eyes, his eyebrows scrunching together from the feeling of you wrapped around his swollen tip. You saw him struggling to keep it together so you reached up and caressed his cheek, looking into his eyes passionately. “You can go deeper Sangie,” you cooed, kissing his lips gently. With a deep breath, he began to push in further, his hips rocking slowly as he worked his length deeper into your heat. You threw your head back as you felt his dick fill up your soaked core. The sheets crumpled as his grip tightened, a low groan escaping him as he savored the incredible feeling of your body accommodating his. "So good, baby," he groaned, kissing you gently. Yeosang moaned with pleasure as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer inside of you wanting to feel him fill you up more with his dick. Your inner muscles were gripping his cock desperately tight as he thrust in a bit harder, his hips undulating as he sought the perfect angle for maximum pleasure. "You're so fucking perfect like this," he whimpered.  

You could sense that Yeosang was becoming a bit more eager with every slow and rough thrust. You were losing control as you gently clawed onto his side, your breathing hitched and rigged. You could see in his eyes that he wanted to ruin you. All those times you have come to his house he has imagined you like this. Your loving eyes locked onto his, your eyelids fluttering closed, your mouth open slightly causing your desperate moans to escape, and your hands gripping onto him as he rammed into you. You could tell he was losing control but he wanted to respect you and go at your pace. “Oh yeosang,” you breathed. Hearing you moan his name like a plea drove Yeosang to the brink. He leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue delving deep as he continued to thrust in long, deep strokes.

Your hand trailed to the back of his head, your fingers running through his hair. You were in heaven and lost complete control of your body. You started to grind against his deep thrust, wanting him further inside of your soaked core. “Just like that,” you moaned as his dick kissed your cervix with every slow thrust. Yeosang groaned into your mouth, his hips snapping forward as he hit that perfect spot inside you. He could feel your walls fluttering and clenching around his throbbing cock, the sensation driving him wild. He broke the kiss, panting as he gazed into your lust-filled eyes. 

"I love you,” he breathed, making your heart melt. “I love you too, forever,” you expressed, smiling softly. He smiled back, lifting his body and looking down at you while he kept his slow deep pace. He was looking at how perfect you looked like this. Your hands above your head, your legs spread, your boobs bouncing from each thrust. the way his dick was sliding in and out of you, his dick completely drenched in your juices. You watched as he grabbed onto your thighs and started to thrust into you faster. You threw your head back and moaned in ecstasy. Your walls started to clench tighter around him. 

Yeosang's pace intensified, his hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm as he pounded into you. The sight of your pleasure-drunk expression, the way your body accepted him so completely, was too much for him to resist. Your whiny moans filled the room and bounced off the walls causing them to echo throughout the house. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice strained with need. You looked up at him, your eyes slightly fluttering closed as you tried to keep your composure. Yeosang's gaze locked onto yours, his eyes burning with intensity as he took in every detail of your face. He could see the struggle to maintain control, the battle to keep your senses from being overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through your body. Yeosang's eyes flared with desire as he watched you lose yourself in pleasure, your body responding so eagerly to his increasingly forceful thrusts. He gripped your thighs harder, using the leverage to pound into you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each deep penetration. "Ah, yes... like that... " your voice aching with desire, your words punctuated by ragged breaths as he thrusted deeper into your needy core. His eyes never left yours as he watched your reaction to his intense lovemaking. 

You felt Yeosang’s hand trail from your waist to your core. Your eyes snapped open as you felt Yeosang's thumb apply gentle yet firm pressure to your clit, his fingers dancing across the sensitive bundle of nerves as he watched you teeter on the brink of orgasm. You moaned in desperation feeling both parts of you being pleased at the same time. Yeosang had you in his grasp and he wasn’t letting go of you. Filling you up with his dick repeatedly and hitting your sweet spot was enough to pull you over the edge. But now that he had his fingers massaging your clit you were close to releasing around him. You could feel your walls fluttering around him, the rhythmic squeeze of your inner muscles urging him to bring you over the edge. He intensified his efforts, rubbing your clit with firm, circular motions as he continued to thrust into you, chasing your pleasure with single-minded focus. "Come for me, my love," he groaned, watching you become undone. 

You threw your head back once again and shut your eyes. A guttural moan escaped your lips as you clenched around him and started to come. Your walls were spazzing around his dick and you started to yell out Yeosang’s name. You felt an overwhelming flood of pleasure as he continued to thrust into you, his fingers moving faster against your clit. “Sangie, you're about to make me-,” Before you could finish your sentence you squirt. Yeosang's eyes widened as he watched the intense pleasure overcome you, his thrusts faltering for a moment as he took in the sight of your release. The sight of your juices squirting from your core, coating his hand, dick, and stomach, sent a jolt of satisfaction through him. “Oh my fucking god Yeosang!” you screamed in pleasure as he kept thrusting into you. Your legs started to shake involuntarily as he overstimulated your throbbing core.

"Ah, my dear so responsive," Yeosang groaned, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm as you felt your climax wreck your body. He could barely hold on to his control, the sensation of your inner walls clenching around him, milking him with each spasm, pushing him closer to the edge. "You feel so good, baby. I'm going to-” You grabbed onto his arm as you watched his eyes close shut and felt his grip on your thigh tighten. “Cum deep inside me my love,” you whispered gently, letting your words be a soft invitation for him to claim you as 100% his. Yeosang's eyes fluttered open, a fierce, almost feral expression on his face as he met your gaze. With a low, guttural moan, he plunged deep inside you, his cock pulsing as you felt him release his seed in hot, spurting jets. He was struggling to hold himself up so he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. Continuing to coat your walls with his cum. "Ahhh, my love," he whimpered, still feeling his orgasm at a high. 

“That’s it baby.” You murmured against his lips, running your hands through his hair. As Yeosang broke the kiss, he kept his lips pressed against yours, his breaths coming in harsh gasps as he tried to calm his racing heart. He stayed buried deep inside you, his softening cock still pulsing occasionally, sending tiny waves of pleasure through your sensitive core. “Are you okay Sangie?” You asked looking into his eyes, your hands rubbing his flustered cheeks. You saw Yeosang's cheeks turn a deep shade of pink at your gentle caress and concerned inquiry, his eyes darting away shyly. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, his voice slightly raspy when he spoke. "I-I'm more than alright, my dear.” You giggled softly at his shy demeanor. Like he didn’t just fuck you hard until you squirted. “Good, that was amazing my love.” You cooed, pressing a tender kiss on his lips. Yeosang's face flamed even brighter, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the tender kiss. You felt a soft, besotted smile spread across his face, and he whispered back, his voice barely audible, "You're amazing too, my love."

“I love you Sangie,” you said caressing his back. Yeosang's smile grew, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "I love you too, my darling," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. You sighed in contentment, feeling completely loved by Yeosang. Your heart swelled as you felt him give you soft kisses against your neck in appreciation. 

“Now what about that bulgogi?” You questioned causing you both to bust out laughing. Yeosang's laughter was music to your ears, his joy infectious as he pulled back to gaze at you with sparkling eyes. "Ah, yes, the bulgogi!" he exclaimed, still chuckling. "I think it's safe to say that it's been thoroughly forgotten." You giggled at his comment, rubbing your hand against his arm. “Eh fuck it, if the meat marinades longer it just means it will taste better right?” Yeosang's eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, his face still flushed from their lovemaking. "I think that's a brilliant culinary philosophy, my love," he said, his voice filled with amusement. 

“We can have round two after we eat,” you giggled mischievously, running circles along his arm. You watched Yeosang’s eyes grow wide and his ears start to turn pink. Without warning Yeosang pulled himself out of you. He looked down and saw his cum escaping your core instantly getting him hard again. You couldn’t help but giggle at his frantic movements as he hurried off the bed to the bathroom to grab a towel. He started to wipe the mess off of you. He kissed your forehead and picked you up in his arms. “Let’s go eat quickly.” He chuckled causing you to chuckle at his anticipation of coming back in this room and fucking you again. 

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA BUT ODY PULLS A BRUCE WAYNE

update: my co-writer friend FINALLY got a tumblr account, so I can tag them now!!

previously: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

okay, bear with me for a moment. odysseus' perspective in all of this would be fascinating. and you know what is also fascinating? the way we can do whatever we want in this AU. so we can and will keep baby Astyanax alive.

to start with, Ody doesn't kill the baby. obviously. the reason is that, while he's having his fascinating little soliloquy about the morality of child murder in JAM, some terrified nursemaid that had been hiding somewhere in the room (I imagine her behind a conveniently shaped vase) picks up a dagger and stabs him in the shoulder from behind.

obviously she fails to do the deed, and he quickly and almost automatically kills her. but he's still stabbed. non-lethally, but enough to greatly hinder him.

Ody decides to go back to his people to get first aid. he can't bring himself to kill the baby, but he also can't just leave it there for others to find, because there's no telling if the remaining Trojans would rescue the boy, or if the Greeks would take him as a prisoner/slave or adopt/lose him somewhere where Odysseus can't ensure Zeus' prophecy won't come true. so Ody takes the baby with him.

the soldiers are,,, not impressed.

Eurylochus, looking at the infant: so, uh. what do you have here, captain? Odysseus, avoiding eye contact at all costs: a smoothie-

Eurylochus in particular is beside himself thinking about the implications. but overall people are too happy about finally going back home to really make much of a fuss about it, so it's fine (for now).

anyways Odysseus is still on edge about the baby's (and everyone else's) safety, so at first he tries to bring the boy with him everywhere. but his injured shoulder doesn't allow him to actually carry the kid too much. so that job falls to Eurylochus.

Eurylochus is soooo enthusiastic about the prospect, especially when the infant starts biting his chest, trying to nurse.

the baby: h o n g r y eurylochus: ARGH! GET YOUR GODS' DAMNED KID, BRO! odysseus: it don't bite eurylochus: YES IT DO

Odysseus prohibits everyone from using the baby's real name, both to keep its origins a secret from potential enemies, and to avoid getting attached to it (in case he actually decides he wants to kill it). so Eurylochus nicknames the baby Aphe, from greek "αφαιμάσσω", which means "to leech". because the damn brat keeps biting him.

eventually he and Poletes get into a heavy debate about whether or not it's mean to call a baby a bloodsucker, and Ody, who'd been having a crisis of faith, steps in and settles it for good.

from this point on, Astyanax the Prince of Troy is officially dead. and Odysseus is bringing home his infant son Aphemachus the Prince of Ithaca. etymology is somewhere along the lines of: afaimasso (to leech) + machos (war) = Aphemachus (the blood-sucking war; the war that sucked our blood)

Eurylochus is the one who Aphemachus had gotten attached to the most, due to all the carrying (and the biggest boo). He cries all the time when they're apart, and only Poletes seems to somehow be able to distract the boy, so they end up watching him in shifts.

aphemachus: *wailing in the dead of night* eurylochus, groaning: poletes, your leech is awake. poletes, also groaning: until the sun is up it's your leech.

Odysseus at the same time is still having doubts, so he doesn't trust himself to be too close to the baby.

those thoughts will haunt him for years, and will eventually play a huge role in their relationship, even after Ody starts forcing himself to spend time with his new son to forge a bond that would hopefully stop Aphemachus from destroying Ithaca.

Aphemachus indirectly saves Poletes' life. because when they reach the cyclops' island, Poletes stays behind with the majority of the soldiers to look after the baby. as a result Polyphemus doesn't kill him.

the downside is, Polyphemus almost gets a drop on Odysseus, and in an effort to push him away from danger Eurylochus gets severely injured. his right shoulder never quite recovers, and very deep down he blames Odysseus for needing help in the first place, because not freezing up in battle is the first and most important lesson they were taught as children, and then Ody went and froze up anyway.

sidenote, in Mutiny later on Odysseus will intentionally aim for said shoulder, exploiting the weakness that Eurylochus will have been very put out by and insecure about. just to add to the overall drama.

what none of them know yet, is that Odysseus had royally pissed off Zeus by ignoring his 'friendly advice' of infanticide. so much so, in fact, that Zeus tasks Ares with ensuring that Aphemachus grows up to destroy Ithaca.

as a result, poor kid grows up with the voice of bloodthirsty God of War in his head, constantly trying to convince him that everyone secretly hates and wants to kill him, that he's been stolen from Troy for nefarious purposes, and that it's his duty to avenge his REAL family. so, basically, your standard run-of-the-mill gods-induced paranoid schizophrenia.

odysseus: so, what do you want for dinner? ares: YOUR HEAD ON A SPIKE aphemachus: a bagel ares: NOOO aphemachus: two bagels

as you can guess, the poor boy's mental health is... Not Great™. he grows up a difficult kid, sensitive, too smart for his own god, prone to angry outbursts. think a cross between Damian Wayne and Jason Todd. he's also very paranoid, and remember that Odysseus still has doubts? Aphemachus can sense that, and that scares and angers him more, which makes him lash out, to which Odysseus also tries to keep his distance even more. he doesn't have much experience at actual hands-on parenting, and it doesn't help that he's not sure if he has a right to act as a father to the boy he had indirectly orphaned and directly almost killed.

poletes, exasperated: aphe, dear, we've talked about this. you know violence is never the answer, right? aphemachus: right. aphemachus: violence is the question, and the answer is YES-

so the most consistent positive influence Aphemachus has in his life are Eurylochus, Polites, Perimedes and Elpenor - until the latter dies and Perimedes decides to stay away.

Eurylochus is the stone-faced stern mother hen. he's the one that makes lists upon lists in his head of what the baby, and later toddler, needs. he enforces bed time, makes him eat as healthy as possible on the ship, etc. as such, his status as 'favorite' is quickly revoked once the kid grows old enough to complain.

the new favorite is Poletes, who spoils Aphe rotten and has a hard time saying no to anything. he's the fun uncle who's always down to play games.

Perimedes and Elpenor are like semi-responsible older brothers, who teach him about all kinds of stuff. Perimedes is the type to give Aphe lots of different chores to keep him occupied, and Elpenor, in contrast, tends to whisk the kid away to get him to relax and unwind. he also likes to teach Aphe about stars and constellations. meanwhile Peri 100% had handed toddler Aphe a knife as a prank to test everyone's situational awareness (think Stabby the Roomba), and got shit from everyone.

eurylochus: let me see what you have! aphe: a knife! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ eurylochus, going through all stages of grief simultaneously: NO!

Ares, while he detests lying and 'cheating', doesn't want to wait until Aphe grows up to make him wreak havoc. so instead he starts trying to trick the kid into accidentally causing bloodshed. and most of the time he targets Polites, because the peace-loving fool is an affront to everything Ares stands for.

this results in Aphe often running in between someone's legs at most unfortunate times, spilling liquid where people walk frequently, hiding fish hooks in food as a 'joke'…

it comes to a head with a contraption born out of every inch of cunning Ares possesses (not much), all Aphe's wild child imagination and many of Perimedes' trap-making lessions. it's a glorious thing, straight out of something between Home Alone and the Final Destination series.

Nobody ever really catches him, blaming the near-accidents on pure bad luck. Poletes never once notices that something is amiss, thinking he's just clumsy. the only reason he's still alive is because Elpenor is somehow always there to run interference.

Elpenor is the only one to suspect Aphe, but, since he's a dumbass alcoholic, nobody believes him, even his boyfriend Perimedes. Ares gets fed up with this and starts making Aphe target Eple instead, but before anything could really be done Ruthlessness happens, and they come to stay with Circe.

elpenor: I fear no man aphe: (✿◠‿◠) elpenor: but this thing… this thing scares me

it's only after Elpenor's untimely death that Perimedes starts to take his concerns seriously, but it's too little, too late. it's actually an honest to gods accident that Aphe has nothing to do with, but Peri had sat through so much paranoid, drunken rambling from Elpe that it just clicks to him. he blames Aphe, and, despite not voicing his concerns (because nobody would believe him either), he makes it abundantly clear that he doesn't want anything to do with Aphe anymore, to the boy's dismay.

finally, a few important notes on continuity:

in this AU the journey is a bit slower-paced than in canon, so instead of Act 1 happening almost at once after they left Troy, in the Knitting Saga after the Polyhemus fiasco, pissed off Poseidon decides to torture them first before the execution, so they are lost at sea for a couple years in between Remember Them and Storm, before Poseidon gets bored and decides to kill them for good. then they spend a year with Circe as she cooks up a way to send them into the Underworld, in the meantime hoping that Poseidon cools down somehow. then the Underworld and the Thunder Sagas happen a couple months apart, and then Ody (and Aphemachus, who is kept alive by the gods purposefully, so he has a chance to grow up and destroy Ithaca) spend 5 years with Calypso, and then another year trying to get to Ithaca.

Telegonus still exists in this AU, despite not being the son of Odysseus and Circe. instead, he is the unwanted son of Circe and some unnamed sailor from that first batch that she had taken pity upon and let her guard around. because of being born a demigod and living on a magical island his aging is a bit wonky, but he appears to be around 12-15 years old. he's a charming, confident, precocious child, who takes after his mother in personality and approaches. him and Odysseus get really close in the time that the crew stays on Aeaea, because Telegonus is not (as far as Ody knows, at least) prophecized to harm Ithaca and Odysseus desperately misses Telemachus; while Telegonus just imprints on the first dad-shaped adult he sees. Aphe is sad and desperately jealous.

aphemachus: d-daddy??|･ω･) odysseus: do I look like- ಠ益ಠ telegonus: you are my dad! you're my dad! boogie-woogie-woogie! (~˘▾˘)~ odysseus: awww!! yes!! what a good boy!!(✿◠‿◠) aphemachus: ಠ_ಠ

fun fact, Ody considers leaving Aphe on Calypso's island. Aphe, who's like 8-9 at the time, almost expects him to do so. only on the morning of their departure do they have a heart-to-heart about how Ody was a shitty, emotionally unavailable father, and how Aphe only ever wanted to be loved.

fun fact 2, telegonus will make another appearance later ٩(๑･ิᴗ･ิ)۶

[passivenovember]

Life is supposed to be an epic. A scroll that never stops rolling with a script that never takes a breath, but maybe Steve isn’t well versed in spotting the blank when it appears. 

So, it’s best to mark his life in breaths. 

The first time Tommy made him laugh so hard that strawberry milk shot out his nose and coated the lunch room table in foamy, blossoming pink friendship. Maybe that was chapter one. The first breath that made him whole. He had his second half, finally. For the first time in his life he had a friend.

The next breath he took was when his parents filed for divorce. It was a little more like trying to catch air in his lungs before a wave crashed overhead. 

Steve’s father packed a suitcase and caught the train to Chicago because Steve’s mother wanted to keep the house. 

He’d never heard them scream at each other like that.

In a panic, howling as their blue Mercedes pulled out of the driveway for the last time, she smashed her hand through the kitchen window.

Said it was because she was aiming to catch her wedding ring as it bounced along the counter tops, but.

Steve doesn’t remember that part.

He remembers other things.

Picking shards from her knuckles, breathing deep through his nose while his mother mimicked and shook so hard Steve felt like his lungs were going to knock loose from the force of it.

She pulled him close when the blood was gone. “You’re my protector, Steven,” She said. 

“Like a shining Knight,” Steve said, even though there was nothing left to fight for. Where does the knight go when the kingdom sleeps.

Nancy gave him something to obsess over. 

Her love was a chapter that brought peace. Nancy was like like napping in a filed with the sun on his face, belly full of cheese sandwiches and tart lemonade. Steve’s lungs carried air to every part of his body, making his limbs feel taught and weightless. 

He got comfortable. Bored, maybe. Fell asleep.

And when he woke up, startled because Nancy had disappeared into the treeline and took all the warmth of summer with her when Steve wasn’t looking, his skin was red and sensitive. Burnt.

Steve had thought he was being helpful but it took forever for things to peel off and scab over. To become new, again.

After a while he learned to breathe on his own. He’s gotta live. And everything’s a blur, really. It’s gooey tentacle monsters and sleepless nights and the feeling of claws scraping down his throat when he jerks awake.

Startled.

Sucking enough air into his lungs to fill a weather balloon. To raise the titanic. To bring back the dead.

And it’s never enough.

But then he meets Billy, who’s name means Protector.

Billy, who’s probably the last chapter Steve will be able to discern the start of because he’s it, for Steve. He’s the binding glue that holds Steve’s saga together. He’s the protagonist and the tragic hero and the breath that escapes Steve’s lungs when he falls, bloodied, to a tiled floor in nowhere, Indiana. 

The end of a story.

Steve spent every moment they were together holding his breath.

Billy spooks easily. He lashes out and then he cries about lashing out and he disappears, or he tries to, but Steve chases him while his chest contracts around big, heavy feelings.

Steve sits by Billy’s hospital bed and holds his breath. 

Hopes Billy makes it out alive.

When Billy does, Steve breathes. Billy wakes up covered in bandages, rasping as he reaches for Steve over miles of scratchy hospital cotton, and Steve lets go.

Of his fears.

Of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

--

“What do you think happens to us when we die?”

Steve flicks his sneakers over the edge of the hospital bed as some poor nurse’s cart rattles down the hall.  He’s not supposed to be up here, but Billy gets cold.

He talks more, these days.

Only to Steve.

Only to Max.

“I think we go to Heaven,” Steve answers. His hand is a weight on Billy’s thigh, a napping amphibian soaking all the warmth he keeps on offer. 

Billy doesn’t say anything for a while. Then he says, “I don’t believe in Heaven,” so softly Steve almost can’t make it out in time. Billy leans back on the hospital bed, breathing harshly through his nose. “When I died--”

“That didn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it.”

“--I saw a river,” Billy tells him, anyway. 

Steve remembers from his Nancy days that that’s a motif in Greek Mythology. Everyone passes down a river to get through the underworld. And there’s a three-headed dog, or something, guarding the entrance. 

But Billy isn’t the kind of guy who’d believe in something like that. 

“Orpheus and Eurydice are my favorite love story,” Steve says. Doesn’t mention that it was all that was playing in his head this summer, when everyone thought Billy had passed on.

When Billy blinks at him, it’s because he understands.

He’s smart. Smarter than Nancy, because he knows when to hold on with both hands. Smarter than Steve, because everyone is.

Billy sits up and leans closer. So close Steve can see green summer leaves swirling in his endless waves of blue. “Do you want to be buried, here?” Billy asks.

Steve swallows. “In Hawkins?”

“Yeah,” Billy says. Like he’s afraid of the answer. Like it matters to him.

And Steve’s smart enough not to fuck this up. “I want Hawkins to eat shit.”

“Okay,” Billy says easily. “What do you want them to do with your body?”

Once, a few years ago, Steve’s parents almost drove into a tree because the road was slick. The car was totaled and the responding officer said it was a miracle they made it out alive.

From that moment on, they never let Steve forget about it. The miracle. How lucky they were. They got a will drafted and sat Steve down on his fifteenth birthday to walk him through the specifics.

Cremation, no burial, no funeral.

Steve doesn’t like to think about death. 

Billy frowns. He knocks Steve’s hand from his knee. “I want to be dumped in the ocean,” He says, like he’s expecting Steve to argue.

“From your casket?” Steve teases. 

Billy doesn’t laugh.

It’s awkward. It’s uncomfortable and thinking about Billy, lying there like that--

“Let’s talk about something else,” Steve tries.

“No.”

“Why is it so important to you?”

“What, am I bumming you out, Harrington?” Billy snaps, eyes like the center of a flame. “I almost died this summer. Shit kinda fucks your priorities around a little.”

His voice shakes just enough that Steve can see through it to the root, stretching far below them.

Billy’s afraid.

He’s right on the brink of shaking apart and Steve’s not going to let that happen. Not now, not ever again.

So he crowds in Billy’s face. Says, “Yeah? Well my priorities are getting you out of this fucking hospital so we can dip our bodies, warm and alive, into the ocean.”

Billy’s chin wobbles. Like it frightens him and makes him happy in the same breath. Like he just can’t believe it. “What about when we die--”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Steve determines. He runs all ten fingers through Billy’s hair, careful not to let it hurt. “Right now I just want to live with you. I want a long, happy, healthy life with you, Billy. Okay?”

When Billy doesn’t respond, Steve kisses him. Long and slow on the mouth and then chaste and quick on his cheeks. Pecking at Billy’s face like a lovesick bird until he finally cracks a smile.

When Billy’s nurse appears in the doorway, she tells Steve to get his sneakers off the bed if he wants to keep his feet.

And it makes Billy laugh.

Steve climbs down and doesn’t say that he has thought about what will happen when he breathes in for the last time. Not to his soul, but to his bones.

He wants to be with Billy, in that great wide somewhere.

He just wants that. Love, napping with it in a summer warm field.

[angelfruittree]

Tell publicly 3 facts about yourself or your three favourite songs or favourite books (it can be anything, really-whatever you want to share/feel like talking about) then send it some people you like! ♥️♥️♥️

Ohhh thank you for the ask lys

1. One of my favorite characters ever is Kaul Hilo from the green bone saga - that sound that’s like “I’m not a bad dog I don’t know why I bite” is so very him but he’s rabid! He’s a middle child and something about middle children always gets to me. I think about this bit all the time ( not really a bit is it lmao)

“Now it seemed an impassable emotional mountain. Every time he longed to make things right with Wen, anger yanked him back, like a hand jerking away from flame or Steel rising against a blade.

How often had he found fault with Shae for keeping people at a distance for half the time not being honest with herself, and half the time not being honest with others? Now he was the one sealed off, nursing his invisible wounds alone, just as Lan had once done.

The thought filled Hilo with gloom and dread. He was not a naturally self-sufficient personality. He knew that about himself.

Perhaps some men truly did not need others, but very few, and there was usually something wrong with them to make them that way. The brotherhood of the clan was a promise that its warriors were not alone.

What was the point of Green Bone oaths, of all the sacrifices his family had made, of the relentless war against their enemies, if in the end, the promise couldn't even be kept for him and those he loved?”

But also he’s a murderer and implicates you in every single thing he does . I remember walking my dog listening to Jade war ( book 2 ) and I stopped in my tracks on the street GAGGED!! GAGGED within an inch of my life winded I had to put my hands on my knees.

2. I really love Tasha Suri and help I’m crying but she has these two books called Empire of sand and Realm of Ash and it’s about two sisters ( each book follows a sister) The first book is about the oldest sister ( shes amrithi, a people who have old magic in their blood descended of dessert spirits , they are a nomadic dessert people and they are violently persecuted and feared but their power is also deeply covered - her mother left when she was young bc that is the amrithi way they can’t be pinned down to one place and her father remarries and… anyway I’m talking about realm of ash ) Empire of sand follows a sister forced into an arranged marriage that enslaves her to this dark mystic ( because of her power) but anyway realm of ash follows her little sister, years later who is now a widow and there’s this one line that just skdjdjdjdnffn

“ She thought about how sensible it had always seemed to smooth away her sharp edges, how long her mother had worked to shape her into something worthy of being loved. But Arwa did not care if Gulshera liked her, never mind loved her. She’s had enough of being mothered and molded. She opened her mouth.”

Okay and finally

I read this fic the other day for my two babies 2buck and I’ve been thinking about it none stop sometimes I scream because I think of a line and then I look around me and I’m on the street - or my dogs just looking at me like so disappointed or maybe he’s proud idk here’s the fic my friend found it but idk if I should expose her !!!

But I can’t stop thinking about it ahsjzjzjsjssjsn

[variousqueerthings]

some fascinating stuff these last couple of episodes including

1. obviously Hawkeye and Trapper’s outfits in Five o’clock Charlie with accompanying shitty upperclass English dandy accents

2. this iconic moment 

3. Sid’s introduction in Radar’s Report, which! look the first time I was watching this through I didn’t know he’d be a recurring character! I wasn’t thinking too hard about him until around Hawk’s Nightmare in s5! But this time I can read so much more into how he’s introduced! The mild disdain he has for coming to the 4077th (oh how his tune will change), the somewhat bitchy up and down he gives Klinger, as if he’s seen a million queer femmes in his lifetime and this ain’t something special, this:

Stating the reality of Klinger submitting himself as a transvestite and homosexual on-file and the “you forgot your purse” line... my guy knows!

(there’s some things about Gender and also Section 8 (which I’m constantly thinking about in terms of Hawkeye) in this episode that fascinates me, but it probably wants its own post)

(also is Sid called “Milton” in this episode?)

4. Trapper’s Very Dark Turn. I think this is what was really sticking in my head -- along with the adultery and the cynicism and the... overt self-destruction I guess? Like he’s not a person/not the same person here as he is at home, in terms of my comparison of him with BJ. That being said though BJ also has some very dark undertones, but his seem to come more from whenever his Keep My Eyes Firmly On The Glittery View Of Home (with a side of self-as-hero/protector-man) technique starts glitching. Trapper is (in my mind) the kind of guy who keeps himself on a leash on purpose. Something about him is On Edge in a way that’s very different from Hawkeye’s Edge, but maybe keeping itself fed through Hawkeye who can sort of direct it in a more idealistic direction some of the time, unless of course he’s too busy going too far too (does that make sense? I don’t know, but it’s something)

5. Hawkeye falling for the new nurse Erika, whom he originally thinks is married and having an Intense reaction to it! Ohhhh we love Hawkeye’s saga of Marriage And Reactions There To -- be it whatever one imagines between him and Trapper ( @jerottblyth​ will never not think about “fucking in proximity” as a Complex Ritual), Hawkeye and Erika before she informs him she’s not married, in which he really doesn’t like the idea of being involved in adultery (and THEN his immediate idea that maybe they should get married -- file that under Brain Chemistry and Compulsory Heteronormativity, Folks), Hawkeye and BJ (another Complex Ritual of “I Will Make Sure Your Marriage Stays Upright Until You’re Home”), and Hawkeye and Carlye (”Maybe We Should Get Married Now Our Affair Has Led To Your Divorce” he says, physically backing himself up against a corner) 

(call me crazy, call it my queer sensibilities, but I don’t think Hawkeye wants to get married -- he wants many things, but not marriage)

they sure are buddy....... and how do we feel about that as a man with one foot out of the closet at all times?

Anyway, aromantic Lt Erika Johnson, MVP of an episode that also includes Sidney!

[danicollinsauthor]

In Too Deep is *F*R*E*E* today

Read | Buy Checking into Blue Spruce Lodge costs nothing today because In Too Deep has been marked down to free! Okay, there’s always a catch – it’s the third book in the series, but they all stand alone. You don’t have to read the first two. In Too Deep is kind of secretly my favorite, though. Well, I love each book for different reasons, but this one cracks me up. Playboy Trigg learns he has a daughter and she’s twelve . She’s also exactly as headstrong and competitive as he is. Meanwhile, her Auntie Wren has been raising her and Wren is endearingly kind and sweet and puts up with a lot of b.s. until she doesn’t. Here’s the blurb: The family he didn’t know he needed… At her wit’s end with her twelve-year-old niece, Wren Snow takes the manager’s job at Blue Spruce Lodge so Sky can get to know her father, Trigg Johanssen—a tycoon snowboarder with a playboy reputation. Gold-medalist Trigg Johanssen is furious she kept Sky a secret, but quits competition to focus on his newly discovered daughter only to have his chemistry with Wren complicate their attempts to co-parent. When outside forces threaten the ski resort he’s rebuilding, a marriage of convenience seems like the answer. It would give his daughter the life she deserves, but is it too much for a heartbroken woman still nursing past hurts? If you like to read in order, be sure to pick up: Book 1: On the Edge Book 2: From the Top QUICKLINKS: In Too Deep Read an Excerpt ✻ Buy All about the Blue Spruce Lodge More Sexy Sophisticated Sagas New to Dani? Find your next read→

[hollywoodoutbreak]

After 40 years, The Karate Kid saga continues on Netflix with the final season of Cobra Kai, the series that reignited the rivalry between Daniel LaRusso and Johnny Lawrence. One of the interesting things about Cobra Kai has been the change in Lawrence's character over the years. While he was still nursing some old wounds, the older Lawrence has also become much more focused on redeeming himself for the misdeeds of his past. William Zabka, who's played Lawrence throughout the franchise's history, spoke about how the character's reputation as a bad guy gave him the edge he needed when he was first trying out for the role.

Cobra Kai is currently streaming on Netflix.

[cooledtured]

House of the Dragon Soars Back in 2024

Mark your calendars, firebloods, for a return to the smoldering embers of Westeros! Season 2 of “House of the Dragon” ignites in 2024, promising to unleash a tempestuous torrent of blood, betrayal, and dragons. The Dance of the Dragons is no longer a whisper on the wind — it’s a thunderous war cry echoing across the Seven Kingdoms.

Aegon sits uneasily on the Iron Throne, a crown forged in the flames of his brother’s betrayal. Rhaenyra, the rightful heir, nurses her fury across the Narrow Sea, a storm brewing in her eyes even fiercer than Balerion the Black Dread. The Blacks and the Greens solidify their lines, alliances forged in ambition and vengeance.

Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, navigates treacherous currents, his fleet a leviathan poised to strike. Daemon Targaryen, ever the wildcard, lurks in the shadows, his loyalty as fickle as the winds of Essos. Meanwhile, whispers of ancient prophecies and forgotten powers slither through the halls of King’s Landing, promising destinies etched in dragonfire.

But in this dance of death, the greatest threat may not come from within. Winter, long prophesied, gnaws at the edges of the realm. Beyond the Wall, whispers of forgotten darkness grow louder, a tide of ice and shadows rising to meet the storm of steel. Can fire and blood hold back the encroaching darkness, or will Westeros drown in the maelstrom of its own making?

Season 2 promises not just spectacle, but depth. Expect nuanced character arcs, where allegiances shift like sands in a Dornish viper pit. Expect political machinations as cunning as Littlefinger, whispered plots as tangled as Cersei’s web of lies. Expect heart-wrenching betrayal and passionate alliances, forged in the crucible of war.

This is no mere rehash of “Game of Thrones.” This is a fresh chapter in the Targaryen saga, a brutal ballet of fire and ice played out on a Westeros forever scarred by the Dance of the Dragons. So raise your tankards, blood of the dragon and friend, for when the dragons take flight in 2024, the fires of Westeros will consume us all.

Prepare to be enthralled, to be shocked, to be moved. Fire may blood may bind us, but in the Dance of the Dragons, only ashes remain.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —  DANIEL SIMMONS | Writer POP-COOLEDTURED SPECIALIST cooledtured.com | GROW YOUR COLLECTION

[shrutim12]

Unveiling Opportunities: The NBFC Stock Adventure

In the exhilarating world of finance, there's a thrilling rollercoaster that not everyone is bold enough to hop on - Non-Banking Financial Company (NBFC) stocks. Buckle up, fellow finance enthusiasts, as we embark on a journey to demystify the intricacies of NBFC stocks. No jargon, no cryptic charts - just a casual chat about why these stocks might be the hidden gems you've been searching for.

Unlocking The NBFC Realm: What Sets Them Apart?

Let's start by tossing out the suits and ties; we're here for a finance fiesta. NBFCs, often overshadowed by their banking counterparts, have their groove. They aren't your traditional banks; they're the mavericks, the renegades. These companies aren't burdened by the same regulatory shackles, allowing them the flexibility to dance to their financial tunes.

Also Read: Fintech Innovations Reshaping Digital Lending

The 'Why' Of NBFC Stocks: High Risk, High Reward

Picture this: you're at a casino, eyeing the roulette wheel. NBFC stocks are a bit like that - thrilling and unpredictable. They operate on the edge, catering to niche markets or providing services traditional banks shy away from. This high-risk, high-reward game is not for the faint-hearted, but for those willing to ride the financial wave, the potential returns can be staggering.

Even our financial guru, Warren Buffett, acknowledges the allure of unconventional investments. While he might not directly endorse NBFC stocks, his timeless wisdom tells us to look beyond the obvious. Buffett famously said, "Be fearful when others are greedy, and greedy when others are fearful." It's a mantra that fits snugly into the NBFC narrative - an arena where fear often overshadows potential gains.

Spotting Opportunities: Analyzing The NBFC Landscape

Now, let's dig into the nitty-gritty without drowning in financial jargon. NBFCs thrive in sectors like microfinance, consumer finance, and vehicle financing. As the Indian economy expands, these sectors present ripe opportunities for NBFCs to spread their wings. Think of it as choosing your battlefield wisely; these companies are strategically positioned to capitalize on specific financial niches.

Risk Management

In our quest for financial fun, it's essential to acknowledge the flip side. NBFCs operate on a tightrope; without the safety net of government-backed deposits, their risk management game must be on point. Before jumping in, savvy investors need to assess a company's risk management policies. It's not about being a buzzkill; it's about understanding the dance moves before hitting the floor.

NBFC Stocks In Action

Every financial saga has its heroes and cautionary tales. Some NBFCs have soared to great heights, becoming market darlings. Others, unfortunately, have stumbled, leaving investors nursing their wounds. Learning from both triumphs and pitfalls is our key to mastering this game. The secret sauce? Diversification and thorough research.

Also Read: How Can Tax Relaxations Help NBFCs Come On Par With Banks?

Diversification

Diversification is the superhero cape in the world of finance. Instead of putting all your eggs in one NBFC basket, spread the risk across different sectors. Remember, we're here for the thrill, not the heartbreak. By diversifying, you mitigate the impact of a single company's downfall and increase your chances of riding the financial rollercoaster with a smile.

Thorough Research

In the world of NBFC stocks, ignorance isn't bliss; it's a recipe for disaster. Before stepping onto the dance floor, do your homework. Understand the company's financial health, its leadership, and its track record. Investigate market trends and economic indicators. It's not about being a Sherlock Holmes of finance; it's about ensuring your partner has the right moves for a lasting tango.

Also Read: Importance Of Transparency And Customer Trust In Digital Lending

Conclusion

In our finance fiesta, NBFC stocks emerge as the dance partners waiting for the right investors to take the lead. It's not for everyone, but for those with an appetite for risk and an eye for opportunity, the NBFC arena offers a captivating experience. Remember, no journey in finance is without its bumps, but with the right knowledge and a sprinkle of Warren Buffett's wisdom, you might just find yourself waltzing to financial success. So, put on your dancing shoes, fellow finance geeks, and let the NBFC adventure begin!

[virtualgirlafterdark]

Proud of your transformation from "didn't know about edging" to "got caught writing about edging in hospital" and "now edging online for amounts decided by Tumblr". Good work edgebot

Rudjdjjdndn

Tthankyou >////////<

[merrysithmas]

Obviously the Falcon show should've shown Bucky coming terms with the fact that he should write his OWN name in his book of victims.

It should have been made visually clear by the end of the series that he doesnt have to apologize for heinous crimes committed by Hydra hijacking his body and obliterating his bodily autonomy to incomprehensible levels, easentially using him like a criminal pump n dump. Every new assignment, new agonizing training, new puppetry, another violent rape of his body and mind.

Bucky is not at all even akin to say Tony Stark, who suffered immense guilt during the entire Infinity Saga regarding his former life as a weapons dealer. Tony's (valid) guilt resulted in a compulsive desire to protect the earth, ultimately ending in his voluntary death. Tony is time and again shown as a tortured hero despite his initial complacency in his morally bereft actions. Bucky gets no such luck- even though Bucky, in his former life, committed no such atrocities and in fact was likely one of the most heroic pre-superhero normals in the MCU.

Bucky was a well-liked, smart, athletic, happy boy who cast aside any manner of social expectation to throw in his lot, time, and energy, again and again, with chronically ill, disabled, social menace Steve Rogers. Bucky canonically nursed Steve's injuries, was his stalwart companion through all life's difficulties (his illnesses, his mother's death, Steve's psychological inferiority complex and mental anguish resulting from his social standing) and the Crash, and mostly importantly, Bucky did not want to go to war.

He was drafted (something that seemingly would have been key to bring up in Falcon re: his lifetime as an unwilling soldier). And, emotionally, Bucky ardently tried to dissuade Steve from joining the army, for fear he'd lose him. Despite not wanting to fight and being tortured, Bucky stayed in the military post-rescue from Azzano because he could not fathom leaving Steve. He planted his feet in a burning building shouting "No! not without you!" refusing to leave without Steve even after his rescue from months of torture. Til the end of the line, regardless of what happened to him.

For the next three entire films we see the frankly epic level of value Steve places on Bucky's devoted companionship. How desperately Steve valued Bucky's goodness and innocence (even above his own life, reputation, and safety).

Bucky doesn't have to cross out names he feels guilty about as if atoning for his own sins - and while the thought behind this narrative choice may have been to depict some semblance of retribution, this notion would have been much better expressed in another way. Such as: members of the public or others who were vicitmized in some horrible manner (domestic abuse, sexual abuse, scapegoats, other victims of Hydra etc) coming to Bucky instead to comfort him, welcoming him into a group designed to alieviate this solitary mental burden, or at least comiserate in some manner. Showing him he was not alone and who, exactly, he could be fighting for should he ever choose to fight again. The voiceless and disregarded, who only have Bucky who understands.

Also (though it seems to have engendered some faction of fandom vitriol), the removal of Bucky's arm during battle deserves consideration. This visual act was obviously narratively intended to show the unmatched prowess of the Dora Milaje and the justifiable premeditated cautiousness of Wakanda re: the generous rehabilitation of a dangerous mass weapon.

Though, it has the double-edged effect of showing how Bucky is still not an agent of his own bodily autonomy. His mental and physical freedom, his very ability to do his job and make his own choices therein, is still under the jurisdiction of someone else. His disability is his opposition's advantage (whether well-intentioned or not). Essentially, he is mistrusted. And it doesn't matter how much therapy he goes to, how much he atones for his "sins", his mind is still considered not to be fully and truly his. This is one of the most injurious of all things Bucky suffers - even those who rehabilitate him doubt the complete success of his healing. Therefore, his entire arc in the series is at best questionable simply with that alone.

His entire arc should clearly have been reframed to display his victimhood, and how the fact that he is mistrusted is also another burden and misfortune that he can work through and call others out for, instead of absorbing the guilt for that too.

Falcon does a poor job of showing how this "Bucky can't be trusted" mindset is highly injurious to his status as a victim, while mostly asserting it is a byproduct of his (alleged) villainy. It does not separate "alleged villainy" and "propensity for villainous actions as result of the abuse his suffered for 70 years". Instead of clarification on this for the viewers and Bucky himself we are, among other things, posed with the question - is the Winter Soldier still in Bucky?

Right there, you know the show was not intended to show much closure for the character, but rather wring-out, refresh, and even retroactively assert his alleged villainy over his victimhood in anticipation of perhaps his own solo series (where the Soldat is reactivated). Yet, we are also oddly simutaneously expected to accept that Bucky is "healing" somehow, although we never witness anything truly happen him, internally, to suggest this.

Bucky plays an almost angry motherly role to Sam at the start of the series, initially chastising him for not accepting responsibility. Bucky sees himself as the protector of Steve's legacy, and is disappointed in Sam's (later he learns, complicated) reluctance to wield the shield.

In the end, Bucky is approving of Sam and proud of his rise to the Cpt America mantle in that same manner - bookended with approval from a distance where he almost, again, stands off to the side as a proud mother. He seems to see himself as a mentor in Sam's journey towards self-actualization. Why is he so happy Sam has become the hero he always was inside?

His newfound friendship and respect for Sam as his own hero, of course. However, it is also his love of Steve which is the next obvious answer, his deep pride in who Steve was and what he accomplished, but this is inferred and never said - thus taking away again, from an oppotunity for Bucky's emotional growth and healing. The writers didn't even know where Steve was (or if Bucky knows his whereabouts) but they could have indicated something to that effect.

Once Sam has embraced Cap, the series ends. However, despite the jubilant setting of the finale, Bucky is still narrartively unmoored. We are left with the image of him lighthearted and hopeful, but without much substance towards its sustainability and so there is not much satisfaction in it despite the sweetness of its visual impact. But its depth? We are unsure. This is because Sam's ultimate advice to him, that he "serve" others rather than enact vengeance, strips away another truth about Bucky's situation.

That Bucky's desire for retribution and vengeance against those that abused and tormented him is valid and a real victim response. Bucky's perspective is seen as "wrong" instead of a well-documented step stone on the path to solid mental survivorship. Bucky could eventually want to serve -- but serve who?

Again, obviously the answer is: other victims like himself. But the show won't call him a victim at all, and thus Sam's advice feels hollow (serve... the vague and faceless Greater Good?) and Bucky's emotional security at the end of the show feels as if it lacks substance and permanance for the audience.

The payoff for Bucky's healing is almost nonexistent because no one will ever say why he was hurt in the first place (a victim).

Could go on and on about how this is because of Disney's terror of Bucky's perceived compromised masculinity (victimhood, captured, mentally damaged in WWII and present day), visual femininity (hair, slapped by men for insubordination, physically touched and moved against his will, soft spokeness, powerlessness in the narrarive), queer subtext (Steve, his origin as Arnold Roth Steve's gay jewish best friend, perceived jealousy of Peggy, intense affection for Steve), his juxtaposition to Steve and role in Steve's narrative, and their desire to wipe his slate clean with a new Masc Bucky.

Hint: it doesn't work.

[honey-baby-blossom]

The Devil's Advocate - matt murdock

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary | Matt finally gets the answers to his burning questions and a little more along the way

warnings | extremely light mentions of death and imprisonment

word count | 2.7k words

notes | I am so sorry for how long it took me to complete this, but I'm very proud of it and I hope you all enjoy !!!!

Matt did his best not to seem judgmental or demanding towards the girl in front of him. He tried not to focus on the odd quietness of her heartbeat or how hollow her voice sounded coming from her body. He tried not to remember the images he saw or the twitching that still lingered in his hand from when she shocked him on the way there. He just wanted to hear her explain, to have a reasonable explanation for everything he knew.

“It’s...complicated,” she said, shaking her head slightly.

“I can’t keep you here if you don’t tell me who you are,” Matt said, his impatience leaking out through his words.

“My name is Ikari Mai, I was raised in Saga, Japan. My mother-” Mai started, taking turns stabbing the edge of her thumb nail into each of the pads of her other fingers.

“Let me rephrase, I want you to tell me what you are,” Matt said lowly, his throat almost raw from how badly he wanted to scream, which only got worse as the girl stayed quiet.

She drew in a stuttering breath, looking down at her pale, thin fingers before she spoke, “I don’t know what I am. Not anymore.”

Matt didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. All his impatience and anxiety went dull once he heard the thick layer of fear in her voice. He felt guilty for treating her like a threat. She could still be dangerous, but he knew it wasn’t her goal to hurt him, at least not for herself.

“In Saga, where I lived, it was common to join them. Easy even. If they wanted you, at least,” she said, her voice soft and shaky in the air. She averted her gaze from the man and took a deep breath before continuing. “I was an only child; my parents weren’t wealthy enough to support more than myself. Then after my mother...she got sick when I was twelve.”

Matt felt a blow to his chest, the guilt slowly dripping into his gut as he took in what the girl was saying. He heard how deep her breaths were, how calm she was trying to stay. He swallowed and sat back in his chair.

“My father sent me to them. Saying it was the best chance I had to become something more, to make him proud,” Mai admitted, shaking her head. She saw the way his jaw ticked up and her eyes went wide in fright. “I didn’t know what they did, I promise you, Mr. Murdock. I thought it was simply a-a militia or something of the like. I didn’t like hurting people, but they lied, they said that we were making things better.”

The man nodded slowly, trying to ease the girl’s nervousness without interrupting her story. He laced his fingers together and rested them in his lap, staying as still as possible as to not set her off again. She took a shaky breath and wiped the sweat from her palms onto her pants.

“They sent us on a mission to China. There was a man who was...powerful. Too powerful, they said. It seemed normal, but...something was off. It went wrong. I can’t remember everything from then, all I remember is feeling like my body was made of stars,” she continued, looking out the window as she tried to remember. Her face pulled into a frown as she shook her head and drew her knees up to hug them against her chest. “I didn’t wake up for a long time. They thought I was dead. But as soon as they knew I wasn’t, they put me in the box. I didn’t know why, I thought I had been taken hostage by the man. But it was them, the same ones who trained me that did the poking and the prodding. Sticking me to machines and tubes for weeks.

“I wanted to be angry, but truly I was just sad. I missed my mother and my home. I wanted to be free, but I was tired of fighting; I was never supposed to be a fighter. The nurse who let me out...I wish I knew where she was, if she’s okay. She opened the box and handed me a wrapped stack of things. I got out, got on the plane.” She nodded as she explained, finally turning back to look at the man. His eyebrows were furrowed in thought, but he stayed still. She made a small smile, remembering how she used to picture The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. “You’re the only name I knew to ask for. The only place in the world where I knew you couldn’t be one of them.”

Matt stayed quiet as he tried to process everything he heard. He knew she was telling the truth, he trusted her that much. He knew she wasn’t a danger to him on purpose, that she wasn’t there to cause any trouble. But she was an escaped member of The Hand. A unique one at that. Even if they didn’t come for her, with the powers she seemingly can’t control, she could make even more enemies than she started here with. Above everything, however, Matt knew he had to help her as much as he could within his means. He knew he could spend a millennium weighing the risks and advantages of the endeavor, but as the girl sat in front of him, he couldn’t help but try and make her feel safe. So, he took a deep breath and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his head nodding slowly in understanding.

“I believe you, Mai,” he started, his low voice smooth against his lips. She let out a soft sigh of relief, pressing her lips together with a curt nod. “You can stay here. For tonight at least. I have a few questions, but those can wait for now.”

“I-I don’t know what to say,” she said, gratitude dripping from her voice as she fought off the tears behind her eyes.

“Let’s start with ‘thank you, Matt,’” he said with a crooked smile. The girl let out a soft laugh, more than the usual exhale he usually drew out of people.

“Thank you, Matt,” she repeated, looking at him closer than she normally would. She figured he would still be able to tell but thought that maybe that was a good thing.

“But I have to ask, if I may, what about your powers? The visions?” He frowned, his eyes looking towards the floor. Mai took a breath and turned slightly in her seat to tuck her legs underneath her body, biting her lip in thought.

“I don’t know exactly how I got them. But that’s why they held me in the box, I think. There’s so much I don’t know. But I know about the visions. The shocks. I can...change people’s minds. Control them,” she spoke tentatively, checking every so often to see if he had changed his mind about her.

“That...changes things,” he said, leaning back away from her in his chair. She shook her head quickly and twisted her feet back against the floor.

“I have to touch them. Make contact. I’m just me from here. I promise, Matt,” she insisted. Matt listened to her heartbeat closely, deciphering that she must be telling the truth. He nodded and reached his hand out to her.

“Show me,” he said, mentally preparing for what he was asking of the girl. Mai opened her mouth to protest but remembered how everyone else reacted. How they described the feeling of her presence in their minds. Matt would know if she was in his head, which proves her innocence.

She slid onto the floor in front of the couch, resting on her knees as she took the man’s heavy hand in hers. She felt each ridge in his skin, every scar and soft piece of a wound healed over. She reveled in the contact for as long as she could, trying to memorize the feeling of warmth and life she felt.

Matt didn’t see again like he thought he would, he didn’t lose any of his senses. But he lost control. All his autonomy was imprisoned, and the girl took his place. He felt his lips part as he started to speak. It was his own voice, just in a completely foreign language- Japanese, he guessed. The girl giggled and released his hand, sending his mind back into sync with his body.

“How...W-What did I say?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the surprise and adrenaline that rushed through his veins. Mai smiled at him from the floor, giddy with mischief.

“私はアホです. You called yourself an idiot,” she laughed, hiding her smiling lips behind thin fingers. Matt flashed a warm smirk and nodded, rubbing his fingertips together.

“True, but uncalled for,” he said, letting out a soft laugh. Mai smiled up at him, her dark eyes seeming to sparkle.

“I couldn’t help myself,” she said, tucking her knees up under her chin.

Matt started to like the sound of her voice and the slight musical quality it had. The accent kept him on his toes, mentally translating the R and L sounds when she couldn’t. He could hear the difference in her voice as she went from nervous to more comfortable. It rang like a bell in his ears, the sweet sound bouncing through his head.

“Could I ask you a question?” she spoke, watching as Matt’s head tilted like a cat at the sudden sound. She knew it wasn’t sudden for him, remembering the stories of the man who could hear every breath and heartbeat just as loud as your words. Some stories said he could hear your thoughts, but she was still suspicious.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“You’re blind?” she said, eyebrows furrowed in thought. His lip twitched up again in amusement.

“Something like that, yes,” he answered, taking a deep breath.

“But you can still see. Somehow,” she continued, choosing her words carefully.

“I only lost one sense in the accident. The rest were just dialed to eleven. I can hear your heartbeat, I can feel your warmth, I can smell the snack you had on the plane. So, yes. I’m blind but in my own way, I can still see, I suppose,” Matt explained. He didn’t blame the girl for her curiosity, even if he was tired of explaining it all. She noted the hint of exhaustion in his voice and only nodded, still thinking of the way he reacted in the police station.

“But you could when I touched you,” she whispered. She watched his face intently, searching for any possible answers to the burning questions in her head.

“Yes. For the first time since I was nine years old. I could see,” he said softly, his voice sounding sad. Mai stayed quiet, suddenly guilty of the question. She couldn’t imagine being without her sight, losing her awareness of her surroundings. Being unable to see other people or herself. To take in the beauty of the world. She pitied the man, that he had to live such a life of violence and still never truly look over the city he loved and protected.

“May I?” she murmured, raising up onto her knees in front of the man. He swallowed and took a deep breath before nodding and holding out his rough hand for her to take once again.

The girl smiled and decided on what she would show him. She carefully placed her palm into his, wrapping her other around the top of his so that all she could feel was the warm muscles and tendons between her palms.

She remembered Saga. The seemingly endless grassy meadows and oceans that bled into the sky. The way the clouds scattered in every direction. Slowly, she started to recall the city the man lead her through earlier in the day. The way the lights bounced off the old brick buildings and the leaves skidding across the pavement. She tried to edit out any of the imperfections for him so that he could see it how he remembers it. She thought of the apartment for a moment, then finally thought of him.

It wasn’t a deliberate effort, really. She thought of how his hair stayed neat despite the windy walk to his home. She noted his stubble and each of the healing cuts on his hands and face. She remembered the color of his eyes, likening them to the color of the smooth leather couch behind her. She wasn’t sure how long it had been when she finally registered how his fingers shook underneath hers, but at the slightest hint of losing contact, Matt’s hands wrapped around hers tightly.

“Keep going,” he insisted, his eyes wide and staring past her. Mai felt her chest squeeze in on itself as she registered his words. She let her thumb rub circles on the back of his hand as she studied every inch of the man, giving him a direct line of access to her sight. One of his hands carefully left her to touch his face. He traced the curves of his cheeks and his nose, smiling as he saw the motions mirrored in his head.

In her entire life, Mai had never felt as though she was more important and necessary than she did holding the man’s hand. She came to the realization that her powers could be used for good; that she didn’t have to be a lab rat or a weapon. She felt like crying as she watched the man smile and trace his own face, truly seeing it for the first time. He couldn’t break the smile even when he realized the girl’s change in breathing.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, letting the visions move into the back of his mind as he took in the feeling of his hand against hers.

“It’s the least I can do,” she murmured, “I wish I could show you more, but most of the things in my head should probably stay there.”

Matt nodded in understanding, mentally flipping through all the images he wished he could forget. The girl took a breath and slowly peeled her hands from his, letting the absence of his warmth register through her palms before rubbing them against the fabric of her pants.

“I’ve always wondered what the people in my life look like. I’ve known Foggy for years without seeing his face. But, I guess, I never thought about never seeing myself. Now I know what everyone’s been raving about,” he joked, his lips twitching back into a smirk. She giggled quietly and shook her head.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment longer, each of them using senses the other couldn’t to memorize the person in front of them. Mai painted his smile to the top of her brain over and over, making sure she would remember it the next time she was afraid of herself. Matt drew her silhouette in his head in the same effort. He memorized her scent and her sound; the way her heartbeat skipped every so often.

“It’s getting late, I suppose,” he said finally, clearing his throat. The girl nodded and slid back up onto the couch. Matt stood quickly and muttered something about extra blankets before pulling the comforter and softest pillow from his bed to offer the girl, deciding he would make do without them for the night. She took them hesitantly, only fully accepting them when her cheek hit the pillow and her nose filled with the scent of shampoo and the cologne he wore for work.

Matt hesitated above her, not knowing what else he should do. He heard her laugh softly before taking the short inhale to speak.

“This is more than enough, Matt. Thank you. For everything,” she said, her voice loose and tired.

“Don’t mention it,” he nodded, waving his hand as if washing away the compliment. He turned to retreat to his bedroom, but hesitated at the doorway, turning towards the girl slightly. “You can stay as long as you want, Mai. You’re um...You’re safe here.”

He heard her nod against the pillow and stepped into his room, leaving the sliding door open a few inches- just in case.

[meikuree]

the centre cannot hold

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Hitch Dreyse & Annie Leonhart Characters: Annie Leonhart, Hitch Dreyse, Armin Arlert (mentioned) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Mild Psychological Horror

ao3 link

The days blend into a seamless fugue, dreamlike and out of reach.

(Or: a look at Annie's time in the crystal.)

The days blend into a seamless fugue, dreamlike and out of reach.

She can't place what time it is, inside. Time is meaningless. The interrogators who enter complain about the cold drafts puffing through the bricks; she can't feel any of it. Only the blunt sensation of the crystal’s cover, cool as iron is cool, running over her arms and torso and head, her entire body.

Hitch visits, many times. She comes to know her by the telltale skip of her boots on the floor. The way she always leaves the door ajar, as though she hadn’t intended to stay long. Her own eyes are closed now, all the time. It means her other senses become sharper. She hears mutters even through the thick slab of wood that passes for a door, and learns the smell of autumn filtering through the bars of her cell’s sole window, carried into the space in dead leaves stuck to the soles of soldiers' boots.

Those signs are what she begins to rely on to mark the passage of time. In the initial months, it’s an inexact science. Mere guesswork, in which she misestimates, on a few occasions, the correspondence between the oil-stench of polished boots and badges and the exact military festival being celebrated outside.

She listens to the chatter of the scouts who return daily to work out the mysteries surrounding her. How she breathes, what is keeping her alive. She knows the answers herself, of course. In this state she is tapped into the Paths realm; feeding on the otherworldly largesse of Ymir Fritz somehow, her lungs sustained by oxygen piped into her chest by means metaphysical and invisible. How long do you think she’ll last in there, they ask, and she wants to bark a laugh, say: I can stay here for the rest of my life. She starts a betting pool with herself about when they will meander towards or away from the answers, and also memorises some of their names—Anya, Nicolas, Louis—as a matter of personal amusement. Hange is the one who gets closest to piecing together anything about the truth, including the concept of an afterlife and/or higher realm.

Eventually they give up on her. With the Shiganshina basement breached, Hange’s purview as commander shifts to other horizons. The room hollows out as they clear the furniture, the echo that bounces off its walls widening into a sound vast enough to fill graveyards. A looming silence. Still as death. Only Hitch continues to come by, and Annie begins to yearn mentally for the stimulation of her conversations, like a plant straining towards the sun. Towards necessary sustenance.

She reminisces about her history lessons back in the Survey Corps, sometimes. It had been fascinating to see what counted for fact and narrative in a different land. She now wonders if she's become an artefact of history herself. Dead for all intents and purposes, preserved only in textbooks. Pragmatism brings her back to earth, when she remembers that nobody has ever been memorialised for lying in a coma.

Her sensory awareness only extends so far, after all that. It is deep, but not very broad. In the first year she keeps track of worldly happenings by the generosity and latitude of Hitch’s reports. Her passionate spiels, often preceded by a long indrawn breath and groans of despair that could have rivalled Eren’s, span an impressive set of topics ranging from Eren’s whereabouts, the Survey Corps’ movements, and military gossip, to more quotidian ills that ail her: a nail chipped while filing paperwork, her anguish over a sold-out bakery on the way home. The twenty letter-long saga she has going on with a romantic rival-turned-interest-turned-rival-again. Annie becomes the unwitting beneficiary of her ability to transform all ordinary occurrences into effusive theatre.

There are a few signs. The stunning perseverance with which Hitch comes. The verve and enthusiasm Hitch puts on full display before her, as though she is performing—and hoping that somewhere, she might be watching. The fond wonder and melancholy with which she speaks of their short-lived time in the Military Police. Hitch, Annie suspects, comes because she is nursing the remnants of a badly timed crush on her.

In this place, it’s a happy accident. It relieves the slight irritation she feels when Hitch confesses a touch too much detail about the minutiae of her morning routines and new interests. She’s grateful, in some deep unacknowledged part of herself, for the contact with another person from her old life, even if it’s one-sided and not very conversational on her end.

Every now and then she gets glimpses of the activities her erstwhile associates—Eren, Armin, Mikasa—are getting up to, in updates from Hitch spaced months apart. It is amusing, at first, to hear Hitch discuss them with distant respect and reverence as if at a remove, when she has firsthand knowledge of their individual quirks and neuroses, and can fill in the blanks within her iron silence much better than Hitch can. She saw long ago how they were some of the greatest breathing idiots to walk the earth; she briefly wishes she could tell it to Hitch too, puncture the aura of myth that has surrounded them like a bubble.

Eventually enough time passes that she has to recontextualise what she knows of them against the secondhand knowledge Hitch relays to her each time, adjusting her mental picture of who they are, the distance between memory and fact asserting itself. It grows apparent in those moments that they are becoming foreign to her too, changing while she remains fixed here, with outdated fragments of people, an insect trapped in scintillating amber.

Armin drops in to see her about four times in the first year. When he speaks he reaches a hand out to touch her crystal, and probably gazes at her the whole time; she can tell by the soft thud of his fingers upon her looking-glass cage. He tells her about Paradis’s defenselessness, their discoveries over the ocean. Pleads with her for a sign, any sign, that she is listening, and then sits with his knees drawn up, the stone floor vibrating imperceptibly with his motion. After his second call he begins to express his sympathy for her. The belief that he now understands why she had to betray them.

She wonders, idly, if he’s kept his nervous habit of biting at his cuticles. He has a grim edge to his voice now, a flute and gravel ruthlessness she hadn't recalled belonging to him before. Unlike Hitch, he doesn't say much. With him, she gets treated to dense silences interspersed with outbursts of conviction, or emotion. As though he speaks only when he has no choice, no other outlet.

She supposes his approach is one of delicacy, in opposition to Hitch’s: there is no evidence she is conscious, although she is alive, so talking is more or less a fanciful gamble; there’s no guarantee his words will reach a living being. She can’t fault him, on a technicality. She only laments that his idealism has given way to unimaginative realism too. Officially, he is devising a plan to establish contact with underground allies in Marley; unofficially, she wants to ask him if reaching the sea had truly made him happy, or only brought a new wave of troubles.

But her opportunities to have anything to think all these against are privileged and few. The visits are sparse, on the whole, so that she learns to conserve her responses and, most importantly, ration her thoughts—like a precious, corked wine, fit to be let through into her conscious refrain only in drips, a resource not to be exhausted too quickly. She has to remain here until there is certain guarantee she can complete her mission. In layman terms: she has to last through years of boredom.

She repeats it to herself, like an idle song or a blinkered reminder: she can endure it. She has to endure it.

After that she slows down her pace of thinking by necessity. Draws every internal argument that would have taken minutes out over the span of weeks. This dissolution makes her feel not so much like a primordial titan, moving according to vast, immense timespans, but a piece of rubber stretched to its limits, shrivelled and ready to burst.

Dreaming is the most direct analogue for her existence in this crystal shell. But it’s an incomplete description. It’s not like being asleep. She hasn’t relinquished consciousness, simply adopted a fickle and yet compulsory relationship with it. Some days, her mind is sharp and lucid like clear water. Others, she wakes up sluggish and nauseated, with the slow pressure of an anvil headache at her temples, a feverish chill bathing her bones. Like she’s slept far, far too much. Like she hasn’t woken up at all, but passed into a worse, second slumber. The effect is that of being drugged, of being sunk into an unnatural fatigue.

In these moments her choices are confined to the binary of staying awake and suffering, or returning to sleep and worsening it. Her muscles ache and scream for movement or stimulation; but she cannot move, and so has no recourse to relief. Only the sickening ache, the awareness of the uncomfortable fog, her arms trapped by her sides, always, like dumb logs.

Consciousness becomes the centrepoint her life revolves around. Sometimes, its presence is like a bullet aimed at her that she can’t catch: fleeting, painful, inescapable.

Back in the trainee bunkers she’d moved slowly. Pulled off the act of a sullen, indolent girl, better inclined towards a long nap than proper sparring. It’d shocked people that she was in fact a first-class prodigy in hand-to-hand combat. More than once she’d heard herself described by her peers as a concealed knife: inconspicuous at first, lethal once unleashed and in motion.

Those days are behind her now. A trite touch of fate, perhaps, that her languorousness now looks like it had been a rehearsal for this longer, extended sojourn in stillness. She can no longer summon movement; she has no defense against any assumptions people might concoct about her. She can only hope that people will remember the shadow her outsized figure cast as the Female Titan, even in the absence of continued proof.

As it turns out, what is most difficult is not the boredom, or time, or the trappings of her mind. Solitude suits her. She is not afraid of her thoughts. The symptoms of wakefulness frustrate her, but her mind has long been a well-controlled thing, smooth and cunning. She’d perfected the skill of disciplining it through the gruelling, unending hours of training with her father in her youth. Learning great focus, concentrating on the exercises that determined if she got to sleep, or eat, or drink. Disregarding all other excess, like the russet burn of sunset or sundown behind her in the courtyards. Your mind could not be suggestible, in this situation. Not even as an eight-year old.

No; what truly grates is the loss of sensation. Her capacity to interact with the world. Heading inside has severed her from her repertoire of fighting stances, uppercuts, movements. No longer can she understand her environment by the rhythms of her body attuned to it: the sunspots in her vision, the wind whipping her shins, the recoil of her fists against an enemy. She once knew the world by the blows and kicks it directed back at her; they were signals, an entire language of their own. She's been reduced to a lonely speck, disconnected from her single means of communication, her vernacular for parsing the world around her. The lonely, obsessive cycle of thoughts she can stand—but this? The dark, empty corridor of her body where she once had access to momentum, eruption, injury and the lightning burst of revelation in knowing her enemies by their punches, the scrapes and bruises left on them? It’s unbearable.

She resigns herself, but never quite crosses the hurdle. Many times she registers the itch of her limbs desiring to move, a furious bristle skittering upon her skin or on the edge of her brain. There is no outlet for them. Even the smallest movements are off-limits to her. She can’t flex her fingers, or tense her toes. The boundaries of her prison are absolute. These impulses, blossoming and then dead-ended, coil up and accumulate inside her like poison. Like a stricken scream with no release.

After a period of time she tentatively defines as three years, she hears Hitch entering and turning the key in the lock in her usual smooth motion. The tiny clink a struck bell in the gloom of mental oblivion. She perks up. Prepares to listen for any news.

“I know it’s been a while,” Hitch starts, “but we’ve been busy preparing for the Queen’s inauguration— like, god, how many ceremonies do these nobles need?— and I was detained by gift duty, can you believe, which meant I had to shop for the second-tier nincompoops over at the chambers—“

Annie’s blood, a gentle throbbing before, suddenly runs cold. Inauguration? But surely— Historia’s coronation, according to the silver measure of her careful timeline, had passed a long time ago. They should have moved far beyond by now.

“Anyway,” she hears Hitch saying now, a little morosely, “hard to believe it’ll be one-and-a-half years soon with you here. That you’re still in there.“

Annie chokes, a gutted sound in her head. She must have lost touch with her sense of time in the previous few weeks. It’s the one possible explanation.

If it’s only been one and a half years, she can only imagine what the next two, or three, or five, or seven years until her death will be like.

She feels the rug being pulled out beneath her feet. There’s panic now, a stab in her throat, the realisation she has to move back to the drawing board. Reassess everything she knows. She’d kept track well enough in the later half of the first year—what had changed?

Hitch leaves. She doesn’t register it.

Her sanity has so far hinged upon the single, fantastic, incredulous constant of Hitch’s visits to her. It’s a fragile coincidence—Hitch might one day get tired of her, reality outpacing her idealisation of her, and stop coming, too. She is beginning to feel the hours and days like an acrid trap, her thoughts a rapid torrent that her body—inverted in frozen stasis—will never keep up with. Suddenly every second is too slow, too long.

She wants to yell. Wants to rattle the bars of her mind-cage. But the only thing that answers her is drifting somnolence, like a hand passing sluggishly over her head, and then disappearing. The same smiling silence of her unresponsive body, indifferent to her will.

What life will this be, she thinks, what life will I be left with, and tries to plan, to consider the contingencies—but just as suddenly, nothing comes to mind, except the hollow echo of her voice referring across her insensate headscape, the strain of her thoughts thinned into pieces from disuse.

[tarlos-spain]

Tropetember Day 19 - Detective

New chapter of:

The first Kiss

"Detective Carlos Infantes sat in his office. He had his desk covered with papers to review, but he wasn't the type to do administrative work. It took time away from the three investigations he had in progress.

He closed the computer that did nothing but send him notifications of pending appointments and stood, arms folded in front of the huge panel that held all the clues to the three murders.

"I can't let a day go by without finding that damn bastard." He said to himself, as he gulped his coffee cup. "Another man's life is in my hands. I couldn't take it."

He massaged the bridge of his nose to try and stave off the impending headache, how he missed his ex's infusions, but Alex had decided to go his own way, away from the police, away from the danger of being the romantic partner of a man with as many enemies as Carlos.

The detective turned around when he heard a knock at the door. Marla entered without knocking as usual. She had another coffee ready for him which she set on the table and smiled at him.

"There's a very attractive guy out there who says he has information about the case." "How attractive?" Carlos shook his head. "I meant, bring him in to see what he knows about the case."

Carlos sat on the edge of the table with that confident gesture with which he always wanted to be seen by strangers for the first time and watched the man enter. He was slightly younger than him, light hair, green eyes with an expression of not having broken a dish in his life, but his eyes showed he was full of secrets. As soon as he saw him, Carlos wanted to discover every one of them.

"Welcome, sir..." "Tyler, just Tyler." "Perfect Tyler, you say you have information on the three murder cases." Tyer nodded and walked over to Carlos, pulled a gun out from under his shirt, and pointed it at the detective's chest. "Don't tell me you're the killer and you've come to turn yourself in?" "Neither, but you're going to have to come with me if you want me to give you the answers."

The stranger didn't put the gun down and kept looking Carlos in the eye. The detective didn't know what to think. On the one hand, it was always threatening to find a gun pointed at you. On the other, he had learned to read people's eyes and Tyler's said "help me" or "I want to go to bed with you." Carlos wasn't clear, but either was equally intriguing.

So, he decided to follow him."

"What do you think?" Carlos waited for his best friend to say something after what he had heard. "Maybe I've lost my mind, but..." "Carlos is that you?" The professor breathed a sigh of relief; no, he hadn't gone crazy himself. "The new protagonist of your boyfriend's new saga is that you?" "He's not my boyfriend."

Michelle stared at him with an almost annoyed gesture and took the ebook from Carlos' hands.

"Carlos leaned against the wall of the elevator, his olive skin glowing in the tremulous light from the ceiling. He looked Tyler up and down and told himself that if he wasn't the killer he was looking for, he would end the night by sleeping with him."Could you tell me what you do for a living?" the detective asked in his Latin accent and sexy tone.

"I'm a nurse at the center." "And could you stop pointing that gun at me? You know I can disarm you no problem right?"

Carlos approached Tyler as the elevator stopped in the parking garage and the doors opened. Barely inches away from Tyler and with a quick movement of his two hands, he grabbed the gun with one and wrapped the other around Tyler's waist.

"I know you don't want to hurt anyone, you're not a serial killer, what's with the gun on you?" "It's not the first time I've trusted who I shouldn't and you wouldn't be the first cop to take advantage of me."

Carlos stood there, his body pressed against Tyler's, not knowing whether to pull away, overwhelmed by the nurse's words or to be protective and thus gain his trust.

"Where are you taking me?" "I have evidence from the case in my car that I think might lead you to the killer you're looking for. But I was afraid to take it to the police station, something tells me that the killer of these men is someone important who is ashamed of being gay." "How do you know the killer is gay?"

Michelle burst out laughing and handed the ebook back to him.

"Surprise me, TK's real name is Tyler." Carlos nodded. "If he's not your boyfriend, then you have a writer obsessed with you who names his main characters after you. I prefer to think he's a guy who really likes you, too shy to tell you, and knowing you read his books, you'd figure it out when you read his new manuscript."7

"Sounds a little twisted," Carlos said but stared at the ebook.

He was getting to know Tk... He had gone to the same college class for four years and hadn't gotten to know what the name behind Tk was. He hadn't exchanged two words with him in those four years and Tk had told him that he had had a crush on him the whole time.

It was a little later with the story. Tyler was showing the detective a box, in which were blood-stained clothes and a pin, one of the ones politicians always wore with the little American flag on it.

"It's your third victim's clothes." "The man who died in the hospital?"

Tyler and Carlos kept talking about the case for quite a while and then Carlos looked at his watch.

"I have to go home, my son is waiting for me." "You have a son? Doesn't sound like a guy who spends all day stuck in his office or risking his life to solve crimes." "My husband abandoned us, left me alone with my son and now I have to unfold every day."

A noise in the parking lot caught Carlos' attention. Now came the action scene. But he didn't expect the injured man to be Tyler. Nor that the detective would take him home instead of to the hospital, nor that they would go to bed right after taking a bullet out of the nurse's shoulder.

"I don't want a one-night stand and then watch you disappear because you already got the information you wanted from me."

The kiss between the detective and the male nurse on the bed soiled with Tyler's blood was far more intense and fiery than he would have imagined...though if he really imagined anything it was himself with TK replaying that scene. albeit without bullet wounds and blood.

"I don't know what it is about you Tyler. I barely know you and already I want to have you in my life forever. I would never let you get away."

Carlos set the ebook down on the couch and drank from the beer Michelle put in his hand. Tk and he were finally getting to know each other, like two adults, not like two people who meet at a party and end up in bed.

He had decided and little by little, for them, to find out if it was worth it for something important to happen. And then Jodie showed up and had tried to take custody of Eliot.

Maybe it hadn't been the best idea, to slowly get ahead with what had just started, to ask TK to pose as her partner and sleep at her house during the visit from the mother of his child.

"Do you think TK had any illusions?" "Did you get them?"

Carlos hated it when Michelle asked those kinds of questions, the same ones he was asking himself inside and didn't want to say out loud.

"That means you better talk to him." Michelle shrugged, the answer was too obvious to say out loud. "I don't know what to say to him or how to behave with him."

Michelle grabbed his hands.

"You like TK and he likes you?" Carlos nodded. "Have you two kissed...slept together?" Carlos opened his mouth to answer. "A yes or no, that's enough." Carlos nodded again. "So, you're two adults who like each other, why not give it a try? And say it's because of Eliot who keeps asking you when you're going steady."

Carlos sighed heavily.

"I'm scared, that's all. I've been alone for a long time; Eliot and I have been a team for a long time and I'm afraid that things will change and that they won't change for the better." "Then you'll have to tell him that, talk to him and I don't know, go little by little."

Carlos went back to concentrating on the ebook in his hands. Maybe the answers were in the Carlos and Tyler of the novel.

"I'll let you read to clear your head but don't tell me who the killer is at the end. Just tell me if the detective and Tyler manage to find a way to be together. I honestly really like that couple." Michelle left and Carlos got down to business, to find out how TK wanted the story between them to end through their characters."

[lunewell]

Word Find Tag-Game

This took a while to actually do, but had a long night and felt like doing something relaxing and easy, so here we are! I was tagged by @drippingmoon, thank you for making my night (:

I was tagged to find ripple, snow, cloud and wind, and I’ll be finding them from The Lunewell Saga - Natura (and just as a heads up there’s a mild tw of death/corpses and blood for ripple):

Ripple:

The corpse landed with a slimy, wet thud as Grant poked it with the broomstick, sending ripples throughout the puddle of blood where they- or maybe it was more appropriate at this point- had landed. Bruin heaved next to them, Zarifa’s vision still clouded by tears, as Grant turned to them with a slight smile; “Definitely dead. Recent death for that matter.”

Snow:

Valour was lounged in the break room, nursing a warm cup of what was undoubtedly coffee. Her eyes were, as always, bagged and sunken in, there was a distinct scowl on her face, and her virgin-snow-white hair hung in a messy, half-done ponytail.

Cloud:

She walked the dirt paths, a network which circled in the woods of the forest like a maze. Whispers of the breeze shook through the yellow trees, leaves dull under the cloudy grey sky. Her eyes flicked from side to side, the feeling of a stare burning into her back persistent, even though she could see no one.

Wind:

The wind around him crescendo, as he walked right to the edge of the lake. The water was still, almost dead, but he knew it was naught but calm before the storm. He gazed into the water, the muddy abyss looking back, before taking a deep breath, and beginning his chant;

Now, who to tag... I’m going to tag @ecwrenn, @slam-dunkrai @writing-is-a-martial-art and @vivian-is-writing, to find the words Dark, Warm, Sky, and Tree if you’d like to do so (: