#teen wolf movie isn’t real it can’t hurt you

[toastybugguy]

my favorite thing about the Teen Wolf movie was when they confirmed Scott and Stiles live a weird but domestic life together and Scott is a veterinarian and he wakes up every morning admiring both of their top surgery scars and being very much in love with his best friend and their journey together. I really liked that part what about you

[audhd-nightwing]

teen wolf as b99 quotes

*lydia’s party in s2*

lydia: why is no one having a good time? i specifically requested it.

***

isaac, to lydia: derek told me not to let him get hurt tonight, so i’ll keep him away from you.

later

stiles: have you seen lydia?

isaac: lydia died eight years ago.

***

derek: oh, are you and allison no longer…

scott: smushing booties?

derek: …yes that’s exactly how i was going to phrase my sentence, scott.

***

stiles: we gotta get to hospital and we gotta get there fast.

jackson: then i should drive.

scott: why you?

jackson: i have nothing to live for and i drive like it.

stiles: …okay, let’s do it.

***

stiles: all right, give me your hair-dryer.

allison: what?

stiles: don’t you carry one in your purse?

allison: have you ever met a human woman?

stiles: …*calls lydia*

lydia: hey, stiles.

stiles: hey. do you carry a hair-dryer in your purse?

lydia: of course. i’m not an animal.

***

stiles: you think you can just bully people, but you can’t. it’s not okay.

stiles: i’m the bully around here. ask anyone.

***

erica: i’m not a stone cold bitch.

erica: i’m a natural, beautiful presence.

***

stiles: do you know how many basic bitches would kill to have the same personality as me?

***

peter: we can go to my apartment. no one knows where i live.

derek: i thought you had stiles over once.

peter: yeah, it was fun. i moved the next day.

peter: he would way too easily use that information against me.

stiles: he’s right, i would.

***

scott: stiles, i screwed up, big time.

stiles: scott, given your daily life experiences, you’re gonna have to be more specific.

***

kira: ‘writing things down’ is nerdy!? what do you do?

malia: i just forget stuff like a cool person.

***

allison: you are disturbingly good at this.

lydia: i grew up forging report cards.

lydia: if people knew how smart i was, it would have been harder to control them.

***

stiles: are you a minor? how old are you?

liam: i’m 610. i’m a highlander.

stiles: okay, you know what? i’m gonna put that in there.

stiles: and then you’re gonna be tried as an adult highlander, and they’re gonna cut your head off.

***

erica: what do you look for in a guy?

stiles: i don’t know, real stuff. shape of his ass.

erica: yeah that tracks

***

scott: i straight up drove him off, big screw up on my part.

derek:

scott: i’m trying this new thing, where i just own my mistakes. i like it, do you?

derek: i did. until you bragged about it.

***

boyd: you searched for ‘cheapest date possible’.

stiles: and i wear that search like a badge of honor.

***

scott: wow, your handshake is quite firm.

kira: i took a seminar.

scott: where?

***

stiles: a parsec is actually a measure of distance. that’s one of the many inaccuracies in the ‘Star Wars’ universe.

malia: and what’s ‘Star Wars’?

stiles: oh boy.

***

scott: okay- no big deal, five days is nothing. i’m not afraid to be alone with my own thoughts.

scott: my thoughts are awesome. die hard 6 on a cruise ship… pizza bagel restaurant…

scott: my father never loved me, i’m gonna die alone.

scott: oh boy, that escalated quick.

***

stiles: well, remember when you told me not to burn down the precinct?

sheriff stilinski: you burned down the precinct??

stiles: no, i had the fire put out almost immediately. this is a success story!

***

stiles: peter, this isn’t High School Musical.

scott: yeah, peter, this isn’t High School Musical 2.

stiles: yeah, and it isn’t High School Musical 3: Senior Year.

***

boyd: i’m fine at parties.

boyd: i just stand in the middle of the room and don’t say anything.

***

derek: i only feel one emotion, and it’s anger.

isaac: last night you drunk-texted the whole pack a bunch of heart emojis.

derek: …out of anger.

***

stiles, to jackson: no hard feelings. but i hate you.

stiles: not joking. bye.

***

lydia: give me the ring.

stiles: ha, you sound like Gollum.

lydia: that means nothing to me.

lydia: i don’t see those movies, i’m too pretty.

***

stiles, walking out after a pack meeting ends: sexy train is leaving the station.

stiles: check out this caboose! later, sluts.

***

scott: look at me. do not blow this for us.

random dog that allison hit with her car:

***

peter: i really miss these people, the whole pack. stiles, scott…

peter: …i forget all their other names.

derek: *judgemental eyebrow raise*

[lpwrites]

On Wasted Potential

(The return of the early morning meta post before work.)

It’s been hard to put into words what is so odd about fandom’s reaction to Stiles and Scott and the concept of being a werewolf in Teen Wolf, but a recent comment I saw mentioned something that maybe puts things into better perspective.

The comment boiled down to the idea that being a werewolf and having powers was wasted on Scott. I don’t recall having seen comments like that before, but it makes sense if people are looking at it in that way. He’s wasting his powers, he’s not using them to their full potential and therefore he’s not a good werewolf.

The thing that clicked for me with that comment is that people are treating Scott’s werewolf powers the same way Stiles did in early Season 1: with excitement, like it’s something cool that should be used always to solve every problem, including using it to murder people (but only the Right people, of course).

That in itself isn’t too weird to me: we see the same kind of suspension of disbelief in all sorts of media, especially those involving kids or teenagers. If you give a kid a sword in order to go on a question (Percy Jackson, for example), it’s not a bad thing, it’s part of the story. You obviously wouldn’t give an actual 11-year old a weapon, because they could hurt themselves or someone else, but for the sake of the story? Hell yeah, go around waving that thing, no problem.

Teenager has superpowers that could very easily be used to do bad things if so inclined? Yeah, that sounds about right, as long as an adult figure reminds them that they need to be responsible with their newfound abilities. (Uncle Ben’s only line in any Spiderman project comes to mind, obviously.) There is a lack of weight behind the statement, though, until something bad happens and our teenage hero realizes they have a real responsibility to be good or save lives or whatever, but the real consequences of those powers are never really touched on unless it’s a specific plot beat.

Teen Wolf doesn’t do that. 

From the very beginning, the bite is framed like a horror movie. A kid is attacked in the woods in the middle of the night by a monster and he’s left to walk home alone in the dark. He tells his best friend about it the next day and the very real, very terrifying attack is treated like a joke. (And in his defense, Stiles didn’t know, so I don’t actually hold it against him too much at this point.)

He starts experiencing weird changes in his body, hearing and seeing things he’s not used to, and while some are benefits -- no asthma is a plus -- he’s clearly shown to be unnerved by it. He snaps at Jackson and spills almost everything because he’s scared, and that’s completely reasonable. Scott doesn’t get a cool little montage set to catchy music where he gets to practice his Cool New Abilities in his room while his mom calls out from another room asking if he’s okay. He’s immediately thrust into a situation where he is being manipulated by the Alpha, thrust into a world he doesn’t fully understand, and is intimidated and threatened by the only other werewolf around.

Derek calls the bite a gift, and I partially blame that scene for fandom’s idea of it, but you wouldn’t have to change much to make Scott’s werewolf origins into a full-blown horror series. He’s been given a weapon he can’t control, that he knows he needs to control, while there’s an active threat of death and violence hanging over his head. The Sheriff gets injured peripherally to what’s happening to him, and Stiles loses it and hurts him because in his teenage brain that’s all he can do, and fandom thinks Scott’s in the wrong? He’s living a nightmare and all people can focus on is the fact that he’s not following the trope, so obviously having these powers is wasted on him.

Even in later seasons, fandom holds Scott’s reluctance to embrace his powers to the fullest against him. He doesn’t want to be a killing machine, he never wanted the powers in the first place, and even if he had been asked I don’t think Scott would have agreed. He was fine being normal, and all he’s gotten since the bite is death and violence and threats against the people he loves. Peter gave a teenager a gun and set people after him, and fandom is angry that the teenager isn’t going full John Wick on his enemies so it’s a waste.

Teen Wolf’s writing isn’t always the best, but it does a good job of flipping tropes around and exploring interesting concepts. Scott’s story isn’t a hero origin story: it’s a horror story where the victim becomes a hero in the end without losing his humanity. And fandom hates the idea of it, because fandom has been conditioned to believe a hero is only ever good if they embrace violence to the fullest.

[outtoshatter]

Hello this is hours late for "Friday" but here is a rec list made up of SEVERAL fandoms, brought to you by the DnDoods fanserver! :D

Young Root, Old Rock | T | 90k+ | incomplete | Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018)

Summary: Twenty-two years in the future, someone sets bait. It’s digital, manifested onto a computer anonymously and covered in as many guts as a real fishhook. Twenty-two years in the past, a file pops up on Donnie’s desktop. He's nothing if not curious, so he bites. Or: How do you crack spatiotemporal egg?

early-morning emergency | G | 3k | The Batman (Movie 2022)

Summary: “Um,” asks the little voice at the other end of the phone, “are you Selina?” Selina pulls the phone away from her face to check the screen again, making sure that she’s not going crazy. No, the phone calling her is definitely Batman’s. “What,” she says, “the hell?”

only the deepest love | T | 40k+ | 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Summary: From a young age, Wei Wuxian has told himself and anyone who will listen that he’s never getting married. Then he gets off on the wrong foot with the cold, aloof, wealthy, irritatingly pretty Hanguang-jun. After that, Wei Wuxian tells himself he’s definitely never getting married. (A Pride & Prejudice-inspired AU.)

Viridian: The Green Guide | T | 272k+ | 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Summary: After his dream is finally crushed, Izuku isn’t quite sure there’s anything left for him to live for, but…he can’t exactly kill himself either, not without hurting the people he cares the most about. So, when he realizes that the quirkless can’t technically be vigilantes, it seems like the best of both worlds. He’ll be able to save people even without being a hero and, if he happens to die while he’s at it…well, like Kacchan said, maybe he’d be born with a quirk in the next life.

Made With Adrenaline | G | 2k | Teen Wolf (TV)

Summary: “Do you still have your name?” His face scrunches, “Do I still have my name?” But - the words come out before he’s even considered the question. Instantly, he’s back in that edgeless cavern inside his head. He calls out for his name, but no noise leaves his lips. He doesn’t know it. He doesn’t know his name.

🔒The Benjamin Franklin Key-and-Kite Experiment | E | 122k | Supernatural (TV)

Summary: “Thank you for stopping by, Dean,” Emmanuel says, holding out the jacket. “I hope to see you in church on Sunday.” The tips of Dean’s fingers accidentally brush over the back of Emmanuel’s hand when he reaches for the jacket. “Probably not,” Dean laughs as he pulls Dad’s jacket around him. “Like I said before, I’m not exactly a believer. You?” Emmanuel doesn’t answer immediately. Then, without really looking at Dean (more like looking through him,) he whispers, “I will be.” - Or 1.12 but Dean's faith healer is Emmanuel!Cas

There is No Ethical Consumption | NR | 4k | Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

Summary: Henry Oak, druid and lifelong vegan, doesn't want to eat meat, even in a survival situation. Darryl Wilson, scared he's going to watch his friend starve, has to try and talk him into it.

I Won't Ever Stop Hating You | T | 18k / 4 works | Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

Summary: “Dad doesn't give a shit if we’re late,” Glenn says, and Jodie glares at him. Jodie’s an adult now, which is a weird thing for Glenn to wrap his head around. He knows that Jodie is older, a six year difference, and considering Glenn is 12, it makes logical sense. But Jodie doesn't act like an adult, he’s so fucking annoying and whiney it's stupid. Glenn has always hated his brother, he gets onto him about literally everything he does, it's way more annoying than Mom. At least she tries to pretend like she likes it when Glenn is visiting her house. “Glenn, language.” The woman in question scolds from where she stands at the counter in the kitchen. Jodie is standing near the front door, his arms folded over his chest and his satchel bag is on his hip as well as his duffle bag that he always takes to Mom’s house. Glenn still hasn't packed, too busy listening to his new record that he got with money from selling the laser pointers that Dad gave him.

Love is bullshit, except for when it's not | T | 8k | Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

Summary: Bill always told Glenn that romance was bullshit. Glenn chose to fall in love anyway.

Thank you everyone for participating! That was super fun and I'm super glad we all got to experience some new fandoms today! :D

[youngsamanda]

unhinged questions and general complaints about the teen wolf movie that i did not watch y’all are welcome to correct me on things i might’ve understood from the clips i’ve seen and insane plotlines read

why does derek have a white ass child when he was with braeden the last time we saw him and they did confirm that was who derek had a child w at their like last con for the show .... i have so many questions about THAT in particular ok

also i know jeff davis hates women especially women of color so i’m not surprised he replaced kira with an exact copy which is what he did with erica and then cora and then malia bc this man writes women with the intensity of a man from the victorian era

derek willingly ???? orphans his child ????? when he was a fucking orphan himself ... like that’s a stupid choice but ok 

allison being back was the draw but i’m not watching this SHIT so like explain to me how she is alive and also aged bc i get it ... crystal is older it’s been nine years and i love crystal but allison died a seventeen yr old girl wouldn’t she be resurrected as one and not her whole ass adult self bc they are like what early thirties now ????

not only did i suffer through like a whole six or so seasons of slowburn for stydia but they dismantled it immediately and killed (???) stiles ??? jeff davis ur public enemy number one i will find you lock ur fucking doors hag 

not the weird sterek bullshit i’m sorry but this is the gay rep y’all wanted ?? A TEENAGE BOY AND A GROWN MAN ???? not to say jeff shouldn’t have written an actual main gay couple bc totally agree on that but what in the wholly hell ... i might as well be on death’s door 

on that point the absolute brainwashing this show did at convincing people it was totally ok to ship grown ass adult characters with TEENAGERS ??? idc that lydia was played by a grown women y’all shipping her with parrish were WEIRD 

also parrish is with malia ???? why ??? and also how ??? last time we saw her she was in a weird forced romance with scott but okay whatever u guys say 

did i need to see peter hale again? why is he here? i am a peter hale hater that creep can choke for all i care

we could’ve had thiam instead of fake kira and liam wHO KEPT THE NOGITSUNE IN A SPICE JAR? BUT SOMEONE FORGOT TO TELL CODY AND LIKE ALL THE POC ON THE SHOW THAT THEY WERE MAKING A MOVIE 

i wonder if isaac is mentioned at all did they just like let him fall into the tv character blackhole ???

also why is the evil weird science teacher from s2 the villain like what in the hell is the relevance of that unless it has to do w jackson because i know the thing he was killed that dude but also .... i hate jackson whitemore that miserable abusive bastard played by a racist doesn’t get a pass cause jeff decided to make him gay years later

this movie isn’t real it can’t hurt me 

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Part 6

Summary: y/n does nothing to discourage morgan stark from swearing, senior year officially starts, and y/n never considered herself stiles but when peter is lydia she’s alright with it

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, y/n fixing everyone’s problems, trauma

Word Count: 3023

A/N: shit shit shit i love it i’m here for it i shamelessly stole it from Teen Wolf

                                                        ///////////

I stayed at the compound that weekend, working with FRIDAY and Pepper to get the rest of the footage salvaged and try to clear Spider-Man’s name.

“‘Morning, FRIDAY,” I yawned out as I slipped back into the desk chair in the lab Friday morning. “Any progress on the footage from EDITH?”

“We got footage from the bridge, but it doesn’t look too good for Peter.”

My eyebrows furrowed. “Show me.”

I sipped Sokovian tea (Wanda was a genius with tea leaves) as I played the footage over and over again. “Of course it doesn’t look good for Peter, it’s his face.” Peter’s face was telling EDITH to stop all of the drones. But the whole point was so Spider-Man wouldn’t get charged with murder, not proving his true identity. “Well shit.”

“Shit.” I turned in my chair and saw Morgan Stark at the door, a proud grin on her face.

Pepper had brought Morgan by last weekend and she and I had become fast friends. After nearly losing her mind over where her daughter was, Pepper found Morgan happily chasing mini tornadoes I made in the training room. After that, she would ask FRIDAY for periodic updates, but mostly Morgan and I got to run free around the compound.

I pointed a finger at her. “I refuse to be blamed for your foul mouth, got it?” She nodded then ran over and climbed onto my lap, looking at the videos.

“Peter?”

“Yup. And that’s the problem.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because in this moment we needed him to have his mask on.”

“But he doesn’t.”

“Now you see the problem.”

“Why can’t we just put his mask on him?”

“Because, Young Stark, that would be considered tampering, and would completely nullify the evidence in a courtroom.”

“So Peter’s stuck being Peter?”

“Peter’s stuck being Peter.”

“Shit.”

“Shit is right.” I looked at her sternly. “No swearing in front of Pepper, got it?” I stuck out my pinky and she wrapped her tiny one around it, squeezing hard. “Let me just email your mom about this, then we can go on an adventure, okay?”

The email took twenty seconds, then Morgan and I were racing through the compound, brushing past anyone who got in our way. We had just turned down an unexplored hallway when we heard sniffles. I screeched to a stop. “Wait right here, Morgan.” One tap of my foot and I ‘saw’ them in a coat closet. And I was pretty sure I already knew who it was. I knocked very lightly on the door. “Peter?”

There was a lot of shuffling, then silence. “Who is it?”

“Y/N.” Morgan stomped her foot. “And Morgan.”

“Oh. Hey, guys.”

“Can I open the door?”

Before he even answered I could tell he was uncomfortable. His heart rate picked up and his fingers started tapping on his knee.

“Hey, Morgan. I’m going to talk to Peter for a little bit. Can you find Wanda until I get back? We can go on our adventure after.” She looked between me and the closet before nodding, running off the same way we came. “Keep an eye on her, FRI.”

Then I opened the door.

How I managed to squeeze inside that closet with Peter already in it was an absolute mystery to me, but I eventually closed the door on myself and let the space be dark.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s up?”

“Not much.”

“Really? That’s good news.”

“Yup, just peachy.”

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Why are you crying in a closet, then?”

“Oh, you know, just…” He stayed silent.

I nudged his knee with mine. “Talk to me, Pete. It’s just us.”

He sniffled again. “MJ called. She - she, uh. She said— She can’t be with me right now.”

“She broke up with you?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Was I excited? Disappointed? I wouldn’t know.

“She said, with all of this Mysterio stuff still going on, it’s best if we’re not together.” His head dropped to his knees. ”School starts in four days, Y/N. How am I going to face her? How am I going to face anyone?”

His voice and my heart cracked at the end of his sentence. “I don’t know.” I stretched my hand forward and held onto his forearm, slowly running my thumb back and forth. “I’ll be there. Ned will be there. I’ll happily hit anyone in the face who says anything to you.”

He snorted. “You wouldn’t.”

“You weren’t there when I punched Flash.”

His head shot up. “You punched Flash?”

“You see what you miss when you get stopped at the airport?”

He laughed. “That stupid banana.”

I smiled and leaned back, letting my hand fall from his arm. “Have you called Ned?”

He stiffened slightly. “A couple days ago.”

“You should call him. Now you guys have something else in common.” His eyebrows scrunched together. “You both have had girlfriends and broken up with them in the same summer.” He visibly cringed. “Too soon, sorry.” I ended up in a squatting position, one hand on the knob. I grabbed his arm and gave it a small squeeze. “You’re going to be okay, Peter.”

I probably shouldn’t have left him in the closet, but I had a call to make.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“What the fuck, MJ?”

“What?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You broke up with Peter?”

Did I want Peter to be single so I could eventually shoot my shot? Yes. But not like this.

I found a different closet to hide in, pushing myself as far against the wall as possible and hopefully muffling my voice enough no one could hear me.

“You’ve seen everything on the news, Y/N. Spider-Man’s identity revealed, then Spider-Man killing Mysterio, it’s- it’s-“

“You know it’s not true. You know Peter’s Spider-Man and you know he would never hurt a fly, let alone kill Beck, no matter how hurt he was. Beck tried to kill you, and you’re punishing Peter for this?”

“I don’t know what to think! All of this shit about holograms and hallucinations, I can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t. You saw how real that Elemental looked in Prague, you can’t say you’re not a little bit freaked out about this.”

”No, I can’t, but I can’t say that breaking your trust with Peter is the best option right now either.”

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “Take care of him, Y/N. You get him and all of this superhero shit more than I ever will.”

Then she hung up.

She hung up.

Take care of him? What did she think I was doing, huh? What have I been doing this whole time?

I left the closet and made my way to the living room, ready for a six year old distraction. “Morgan?”

“Y/N!” She was sitting beside Peter on the couch, the afternoon sun filtering through her long eyelashes. “Come watch a movie with us.”

“How ‘bout some lunch first?”

“How about lunch and a movie?”

I laughed. “You’re convincing, I’ll give you that. Chicken nuggets?”

“Yeah!”

“Peter, chicken nuggets?”

“Sure.”

Morgan picked Disney movie after Disney movie, her attention never wavering. Once the sun went down, though, my eyes were getting heavy. After so many days of no sleep, my body insisted darkness meant it was time for bed. We were on movie number 4 (Sleeping Beauty, go figure) when my eyes couldn’t stay open. Before I knew it, my breathing had evened out and I only saw the insides of my eyelids.

I woke up the next morning on one of the most comfortable pillows I had ever had, which was saying a lot, ‘cause I had one of those memory foam ones. I could’ve slept on it forever, but then it shifted around and my neck got squished, and—

Wait.

Is this thing moving?

I opened my eyes, and sure enough, it was. I just so happened to be using the legs of none other than Peter Parker for a pillow. How I ended up like that, I have no idea, but my heart was in my throat the second I realized it.

It’s like I was frozen. (I had accidentally frozen myself on more than one occasion, it’s about as fun as you think it would be.) I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, all I could do was watch his chest move as he inhaled. It slowly started to move faster until I could feel his heart rate speeding up, and I knew something was wrong.

“Peter?” I sat up and turned to face him, one hand moving to his shoulder. “Wake up, Peter.” I shook him probably a little too harshly and he started awake, his eyes wild. “Hey.”

“Are you real?”

A nightmare. No wonder he was freaking out, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Yeah, I’m real.”

“Can- Can you prove it?” He saw the flash of distrust in my eyes and backtracked instantly. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“It’s fine, Pete. Seriously.” He didn’t look like he believed me, so I had to think of something quick that would prove I was real. “Last night, we watched Sleeping Beauty, ‘cause it was Morgan’s fourth request, and you were actually really excited to watch it because you’d never seen it before, and so it starts and you were out in the first fifteen minutes.”

“Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself? Because you were asleep way before I was.”

“You woke up, sure, but you definitely fell asleep before I did.”

He smiled and leaned his head back, but it eventually dropped. He looked at me and asked quietly, “How can you tell? What’s real and what isn’t?”

The sun was barely peaking over the horizon when I answered. “The bending. People move a specific way, even just how they walk and how they stand, and it can’t be mimicked. Beck tried it, he tried to make himself look like you, but it just felt wrong. Everything is slightly off when what I’m seeing isn’t reality.”

He grumbled, “Wish I could do that.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “You can, Peter. You already have half of it down, you just have to pay attention to it.”

“What do you mean?” He was fully sitting up at this point, his entire body engaged in my every word.

“You have heightened senses, right? Which makes the hallucinations ten times worse for you.” He nodded. “You can use those to your advantage. Heartbeats, footsteps, shifts in the dirt, they’re all jumbled together until you can differentiate between people. It takes a lot of concentration and time, but it eventually becomes second nature.” I was tapping the cushion with every other finger, a trick I picked up from my shrink after The Blip first happened. It used to be a coping mechanism, now it’s just a habit when I zone out.

“Can you teach me?”

His eyes were bright. How could I say no to him when he was looking at me like that? You did, Y/N, like three weeks ago. Okay, but those were life-threatening circumstances. This is different.

“Sure. But not today.” I stood up and stretched completely, then checked the time on the oven. Seven twenty-seven. I could get home just after eight if I left right now.

I made it at eight, right on the dot.

////////////

Stepping off the subway, I knew school was going to be rough. Not just that day, but the week, the month, the semester, the year. Senior year was supposed to be enjoyable, right? After the last few disasters Mr. Harrington has been apart of on his school trips, they all but banned us from going on any more of them. Not that I really minded, except for the senior trip we were supposed to have right after graduation. Summer was exciting enough for a lifetime, I didn’t need any more repeats of that.

I walked into the building, headphones in but no music playing. There was Brad, leaning against the locker of some poor unassuming junior. Flash, his camera on, documenting the last first day of high school. MJ, her own pair of headphones in, made eye contact with me briefly, then looked down at her phone again just as fast. Peter and Ned, slightly more solemn than usual, standing at their lockers, comparing class schedules.

My locker was only a few down from them, so I said hello before passing by, the three-number code learned by heart.

I sensed Peter and Ned before I ever heard them. “If I concentrate any harder on these footsteps I’m going to lose my mind.” He had texted me all weekend asking about how to learn movement patterns and footsteps, so he was obviously practicing my tips.

I laughed. “Yeah, duh, Peter, even I don’t know what everyone moves like. The trick is to learn the people you’re close to, then learn to pick them out of a crowd. Start with someone you see a lot of, who you’re familiar with, then work from there.”

“Ooh.”

I looked over at Ned. “How was the rest of your summer, Ned? Any more girlfriends?”

“No, I’m still a bachelor. I think I’ll stay this way for a while - strong independent man who doesn’t need a woman. But, I mean, if someone comes along, it’s not like I’ll say no.”

“I respect the hustle. Don’t tie yourself down, Ned.”

“Thank you, Y/N, I really appreciate that.” The bell rang and he looked down at his schedule. “I have physics, I’ll see you guys later.”

“What do you have?”

I looked at my own schedule, nearly running into someone as we walked through the hall. “Spanish. You?”

“Spanish.” I grabbed his sheet of paper and compared them.

“No fucking way.” We had every single class together.

Every.

Single.

Class.

Pepper.

“What is it?”

“We have every class together.”

“No way.” He grabbed the papers from my hands and looked over them himself. “The chances of this happening are—“

“Minuscule.”

He just shrugged it off. “Nice to have a familiar face in the crowd.”

I shot Pepper a quick text before we walked into Spanish.

Really, you have us in every class together?

I’m worried about him, Y/N. Frankly, I’m worried about you, too. Just keep an eye out for each other, okay?

Yeah yeah sure.

This school year just got a whole lot more interesting.

/////////

I guess I could consider Flash a friend. He was nice enough not to post the video he had of me being an Elemental and he let me use his shoulder as a pillow on the flight home. The only communication we had over the rest of the summer was me commenting something on his Instagram story and him replying. So I was a little surprised when he took a seat beside me in chemistry, but not disappointed.

“Do you and Parker have every class together?”

“Yup.”

“Shit that sucks.”

“He’s alright, Eugene, maybe one day you’ll realize that.”

“I can’t believe Mysterio tried to say Parker was Spider-Man. I mean, can you think of a less-likely candidate?”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop insulting my friends, Eugene, or I’ll make you move seats and do this class on your own.”

He shut up for a little bit, but when we got a review sheet to do that went over all of last year’s class, he started whispering. “Are you still, you know, turning into monsters and knocking people into rivers?” He hissed in pain as my foot connected with his shin. “Okay, I’ll take that as a no.”

“I’m not talking about this with you,” I whispered.

“It was fucking badass, Y/N.” Another hiss of pain.

“People died, Eugene. Do you not get that? People died because of me. All of the people in our trip could have died and it would have been my fault.” The bell rang and I nearly sprinted out of the class.

My heart was beating too fast, my breathing was too shallow. I knew those were a bad combination, but I couldn’t stop. The room was spinning and I couldn’t feel the ground underneath me and holy shit am I falling?

Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me through a door, and as much as I wanted to pull away I knew I could trust whoever it was.

“Breathe with me, Y/N, okay?”

Peter.

“Just breathe with me.”

I tried. You have no idea how badly I wanted to stop feeling like that. But my body couldn’t catch up to my brain and that freaked me out even more and now I was getting lightheaded. “I- I-“

And then a completely new sensation filled my brain. Lips. Soft - maybe a little chapped - lips were on mine.

I didn’t need help breathing anymore because Peter Parker literally took my breath away.

He pulled away, but I kept my eyes closed. Maybe if I keep them closed I can hold onto it just a little bit longer.

“You okay?”

God his voice was so soft. I just wanted to wrap myself in it and take a nap.

“Did you get that from Teen Wolf?”

Smooth, Y/N, real smooth.

Shut up.

“Ye- yeah, I did.”

I sighed in relief. “Thanks. For stopping it.”

“No problem.”

“How’d you know?”

“Teen Wolf.”

“No, how’d you know I was having a panic attack?”

“Oh. Your- your heartbeat, actually. We have every class together, so yours has been the easiest to learn so far. Then I heard it beating like crazy so I knew something was up.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

I thought about it for a second. “Maybe later, when we’re not sitting on the floor of an empty classroom.”

He laughed. “Okay.” He stood up and gave me his hand, pulling me to my feet. “C’mon, we’re late for English.” He led the way down the nearly empty hallway, while I pulled out my phone and sent one more text to Pepper.

Okay, it was a good idea.

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​

[inyourimagination-tion-tion]

A Liam Dunbar Imagine. 

REQUEST: Can you make an imagine where Y/N starts to date Liam but Y/N is Scott's little sister. Scott and Stiles start to mess around with him like pranks and stuff.

Acting normal was the easy part, stopping the butterflies that invaded my stomach every time I saw him was the hard part. Liam Dunbar, the new wolf on the block, he has these gorgeous eyes and the most perfect boy next door bone structure. Oh and his smile, his smile, it somehow manages to tell you that ‘Saturday is for the boys’ and ‘you’re the only thing I need in this world’ all at the same time. It’s not these feelings that are the problem, it’s the parasite that’s feeding on the romantic feelings that I let slip, otherwise known as my big brother Scott. 

‘You can’t leave it alone, can you?’ I said to Scott, as he slowly pulled into the school’s parking lot, making sure to wave in a cheesy manner at Liam as he walked by. ‘I’ll leave it alone when you ask him out.’ Scott looked at me with a smug smile, knowing that I would never ask him out. I just groaned and unbuckled my seatbelt, opening the car door and swung my legs out before turning back to Scott 'I'll ask him out when you leave me alone’ and slammed the door behind me. 

As I was making my way across the parking lot to the pearly gates of hell, that was school, I was stopped in my tracks by none other than Stiles Stilinski, if my big brother is the angel on my shoulder, he’d be the devil. ‘Hey Y/N, discussing ways to stop drooling over Liam. You know, you take after your brother, you should have seen him when he first saw Kir-’ Stiles was interrupted by a punch to his gut. His response being a solitary ‘Dude!’, I took this as a chance to walk ahead but was yet again stopped by Stiles, ‘Dumb and dumber, tell me what you want, because I would like to get to class before it starts’. I looked at them expectantly, ‘Now would be lovely.’ Scott looked at Stiles and then back at me, ‘If you don’t ask him out, then we’ll just have to mess with him a little. Maybe we replace his water at practice, or hide his clothes so he has to wear lost and found kit.’, at this point Stiles chimes in ‘yeah, or maybe we convince him that he’s being stalked, we anonymously call his phone and write him letters saying that we know all his secrets.’, it was Scott’s turn for the solitary ‘Dude’. I directed myself towards Scott ‘So what you’re saying is, that if I don’t ask him out, you’re going to play pranks on him until I do?’ Scott nodded at this. ‘And we’re going to write him anonymous lette-’, ‘dude, we’re not going to write him anonymous letters.’ I walked away, leaving tweedle dee and tweedle dum to bicker about the prank warfare that they were going to unleash upon Liam. 

I took my seat in my first class of the day, it was history with Mr. Yukimura. It was an interesting lesson, well what I was paying attention seemed interesting.  I spent most of it staring out of the window, deciding whether or not I’d let my brother and his “hench”man start pranking Liam. Surely Stiles and Scott wouldn’t do anything dangerous to him, they aren't that stupid are they? Although I felt unsettled and slightly worried about what they might do, the jury’s verdict (the jury being my last three brain cells) was to ignore it. They must have been trying to intimidate me into asking Liam out. So for the rest of the school day I did exactly that, ignored it and by home time I had forgotten about it. 

It was a Tuesday and that meant Scott, Stiles and Liam all had practice. So there were no chances of me running into any of them or their shenanigans. Tuesday for me, means that I don’t have a ride home. But on the upside, I do get thirty minutes of pretending I'm walking in a coming of age movie, whilst listening to fun indie music. I arrived at my front door, the sound of HAIM, buzzing softly through my earphones, I opened the door slinging my keys to the right onto a little dish and my bag onto the floor, next destination, the fridge. With HAIM still buzzing slowly into my ears, I searched through the fridge to find some leftover pizza and then headed up to my room. 

My room was like any other teen bedroom, photos of my friends littered on the walls, random souvenirs that I had saved from day trips and concerts and receipts from nights in diner’s after Scott’s lacrosse games. I flopped onto my bed, stuffing the pizza into my mouth, earbuds still buzzing and let time roll by. Time doesn’t feel real when you have pizza, music and homework, it sort of feels like a montage at the beginning of a cheesy high school movie. 

Hours went by, soon it was well after dark, but the music was still my soundtrack to the mundane routine. I checked my phone, it was 7pm. Which meant it was time to reheat the lasagne that was probably in the freezer from a week ago. As I made my way to the kitchen I heard a sort of thumping sound. At first I thought it must have been in the background of my music, but I soon realised it wasn't. It was probably Scott being a clumsy mess. I got to the kitchen and put the lasagne in the oven. I took out an earphone and breathed in, preparing myself for the monstrosity that was about to leave my lungs. ‘SCOTT, IM MAKING LASAGNE, HURRY’. I waited for a response, instead I heard more of that mysterious banging and what sounded like Stiles attempt at whispering. I rolled my eyes, charging towards the idiots who seemed to be hanging out in our bathroom. ‘Scott, you know the deal. I make dinner you set the table and your little friend Stiles isn’t getting any garlic bre-’, as I turn the corner into the bathroom I skid to a stop. Apparently in the time it had taken me to do my homework and put dinner in the oven, Scott and Stiles had turned into Reggie and Ronnie Cray. And how did I know this? It had something to do with the Liam shaped body that was duct taped in my bath. 

'What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ I yelled at the pair, who stood idly in the bathroom. ‘Oh hi, Y/N, fancy seeing you here. What are we doing? Oh we’re, you know, just doing the usual. What do you think we’re doing?’ Stiles blurted out, doing the over-talking thing he does when he’s nervous. ‘It looks like you’re having a tea party in here, without me’, Stiles mouth hangs open and he looks at me as if to say “what the?”. ‘You guys are actually idiots. Do I have to actually say it to you? Why the hell do you have Liam Dunbar bound by duct tape in my bath?’ I give them both a look asking for an answer. After what felt like ten minutes of silence, Scott decides to give me an answer, ‘We told you what we’d do this morning.’ My eyes roll back into my head and my hands flail about at my sides telling the boys that they are in fact stupid. ‘I thought you were joking.’ I shouted at them. ‘Never underestimate the power of Batman and Robin. Now you should tell him why he’s here’ Stiles looked at me with the same look that I had given him moments ago. ‘For god sake. Why are you punishing me.’ I whispered underneath my breath. ‘Untie him you idiots.’ I scowl at them, folding my arms. ‘Not until you tell him’ Scott imitates me. ‘Ugh fine.’ 

I approach the bath tub looking down at a somewhat scared and confused Liam. ‘My brother and his idiotic friend, who are definitely not Batman and Robin, brought you here today because they want me to grow some balls and ask you something.’ I turn to look back at Stiles and Scott who are both now invested in my every word, Liam is staring directly into my eyes at this point and the butterflies are back. I take a short breath in to prepare and finally say ‘Would you like to go on a date, with me?’ there’s a silence in the bathroom as we all wait for a response. Liam writhes around a little, his words are just sounds. ‘Oh, yeah, sorry. This is going to hurt a little.’ I rip off the duct tape from his mouth. ‘What’s your answer dude?’ Stiles shouts a little too eagerly. ‘Yes, I'll go on a date with you. But you didn't have to kidnap me to do it.’ Liam finally exclaims. ‘Trust me, I had nothing to do with it.’ I turned around to look at Stiles and Scott, who are both smiling at me. 

I roll my eyes yet again and head towards the door, turning back to yell ‘Untie him you idiots’ at Stiles and Scott who both stumble around clumsily trying to let Liam out. As I make my way out into the hallway I look back at them ‘Dinner’s almost ready and neither of you are getting garlic bread.’ 

A/N: I haven’t written anything in years for this Tumblr. I hope you enjoy it (and i’m really sorry to the anon who requested this ages ago.  I also went a little rogue with the plot line. But all the basics are there. 

[stephkaylor]

FAVES & FAILS: #1 (Teen Wolf)

I’ve decided to do this questionnaire when a show/book series/movies where I answer these questions with fun gifs too (its Tumblr, what did you expect?), if you want more info, the original idea post with links to each of my completed lists is here ⚡️. A bunch of my faves have already ended so getting all of these out will take a minute, but I’m aiming to post a new one twice per week. 🤞🏻Anyway, enjoy!! OH!! ALSO, I’ll be discussing plot elements in this list so...SPOILER ALERT!!

TV Show FAVES and FAILS: TEEN WOLF

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER: STILES STILINSKI

HANDS DOWN, no question about it! He was the soul of the show, and funny, and so incredibly human on a show full of the inhuman, and that was what made him so integral.  Anyway, I could go on forever about how much I love Stiles, but here’s a gif:

LEAST FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER: GERARD ARGENT

There isn’t really a male that makes me want to punch something, so good for the writers, I guess?

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER: LYDIA MARTIN

I really want to say Allison but it HAS to be Lydia, hands down! Her character development from a girl pretending to be vapid and shallow and who hid her genius so she could “fit in”, to a strong, powerful, confident woman secure in who she really is and the power inside of her (figuratively AND literally, lol), this girl is the real MVP.

LEAST FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER: MONROE

This was hard because there are several female characters that made me want to throw my laptop out of the window.  The short list is Kate Argent, Allison’s mom... I could go on... but Monroe’s systematic attempt to wipe all supernaturals out of Beacon Hills and then maybe the rest of the world gave me fucking high blood pressure and a rage issue. I don't care how “scared” you are, killing a kid who hasn't done anything wrong just because they are different than you is some fucked up, borderline genocidal bullshit. And she survived the finale!!? Like I had to deal with her self-righteous smirky attitude and you didn't even have the decency to punch her in the face and let me watch?!? Rude.

THE CHARACTER THAT DESERVED BETTER: Aiden (and kind of Ethan)

I badly want to say Allison again here because I love and miss her tons. But she died protecting her family and friends and I believe that she is happy wherever she went afterward.  Watching Aiden die in his twin brother’s arms I don’t know who I felt the worst for.  The boy dying, or his brother who now has to live without him... I’m gonna go cry now, brb.

THE DEADWEIGHT CHARACTER WE SHOULD’VE DUMPED IN 2009: Kate Argent

Luckily she was not a regularly appearing character, but when she showed up it was always “for revenge” and I'm like...can we just...not this season? I was having a lovely time and then you showed up with your petty anger for whatever fucking shit that happened in, like season one.  Like, honey... if it’s been so long since you’ve been relevant that I have to google what you’re upset about because I have honestly forgotten...maybe it’s time to let that shit go.  Kindly fuck off now, please...

OVERHYPED CHARACTER: Derek Hale

Like, don’t get me wrong, he’s great and I loved when he was on the show, but I feel like some people think he carried the show and it wouldn't survive without him.  Well, surprise! because he went away after season 4 and I still think some of their best shit came in season 5 and the beginning of season 6.  

UNDERHYPED CHARACTER: Deaton

Um, he was basically Scott’s druid emissary and he got no recognition for it.  He saved all of the main pack members’ lives at least once.  Also he didn't make Stiles pay for the windows, so he’s apparently not an asshole. 

OVERHYPED SHIP: Scott and Malia

I feel like they had to adjust the final season A TON because of Dylan’s injury and Kira not coming back and I think the writers panicked when they didn't know who to put Scott with (because our leading man could never not have a girlfriend, *gasp* THE HORROR!) because Lydia needed to be with Stiles and I think they picked Malia because she was basically the only one left...I was never into it.  In fact, when my friend texted me after we watched the episode where they get together, my response back to her was literally “meh 🤷🏻‍♀️”.

UNDERHYPED SHIP: Allison and Isaac

It would’ve been so nice to see where that relationship went.  Don’t get me wrong, had she lived, I would’ve wanted Allison to end up with Scott.  But I loved that the show was willing to say that it is okay to fall in love more than once in your life.  Sometimes the shows aimed at a younger audience have a tendency to act like your first love has to be the one you’re with until you die and that’s just not realistic. It was nice that the writers didn't box these characters into that mold because it gave them more depth as characters. 

FAVORITE SHIP: Stiles and Lydia

I don’t know how to explain how much I love this pairing.  Like, from the beginning he saw her for how amazing she was and he supported her as she came into her powers and then she was always there making sure that someone was taking care of him when he was taking care of, literally, everyone else, and then when he disappeared SHE KNEW something was wrong nearly instantly, and ‘remeMBER I LOVE YOU’ I need to stop before this run-on sentence goes on forever.  ALSO they’re canon official, which never fucking happens for my ships so I’m fucking excited, sue me.

FAVORITE VILLAIN: Deucalion

His backstory was well-developed and deep, he was clear with his goals, he actually executed said goals in a logical and timely manner, he was a fucking ALPHA OF ALPHAS, nuf said. 

MOST HEARTBREAKING MOMENT: Allison’s Death

Hands down, the most heartbreaking moment on the show, and I will fight anyone who comes at me with a different opinion. Because like--she was smiling when she was stabbed because she had figured out a way to help her friends and then she died in Scott’s arms and told him she loved him even though they weren’t together she still loved him and he still loved her, and I truly believe that she had zero regrets when she died, and how bittersweet is that???!  But Scott couldn't take her pain because it didn’t hurt anymore, and Lydia had to feel her best friend die and she screamed Allison’s name and if you are not hurting right now are you a monster???!?!

FAVORITE STORYLINE: Eichen House Escape/Dread Doctors in Season 5

It was hard to pick between the Dark Druid storyline in season 3A, but the Eichen rescue/Lydia learning how to be a BAMF Banshee from Meredith while she was catatonic (ALSO ‘Stiles saved me’ I AM DEAD!!!), and the whole la bête du gévaudan thing was great, and reuniting the pack after Theo had royally fucked it up earlier that season, it was all just superb! *chef’s kiss*

STORYLINE WE COULD’VE DONE WITHOUT: Like, the whole second half of the last season, TBH

It was a petty, counterintuitive, and just garbage. The monster was dumb, Monroe is a royal twat (as I stated above), and it didn't have a conclusion.  Like, the fuck? This isn't Game of Fucking Thrones you guys do not need to leave every season finale with so many loose ends it make people want to throw their laptops off of a cliff into a vat of hydrochloric acid.  And it was the LAST SEASON so there’s no hope of fixing this bullshit storyline. ugh, kill me now. 

BIGGEST PLOTHOLE: Scott’s pretty selective “True Alpha” powers

They, like, kind of tried to pass it off as it taking a ton of energy so he can’t always do it all the time.  But he got through a mountain ash barrier to save Deaton and activated his True Alpha but then couldn't get into Eichen to get Lydia out because of the mountain ash...? oh and also where the fuck did Cora and Isaac go? (I, sincerely, hope he’s not still just chinning in fucking France wondering were Argent fucked off to)

OVERALL MARKS OUT OF TEN (10 being that watching this show has probably increased your life’s worth by at least five percent; 1 being the only thing this show has given me is a stomach ulcer and trust issues): 

8.75 out of 10.  This show was a blessing and I would definitely recommend it to other people. (mostly because I love to get people hooked on my favorite shows and then they're stuck and we can be tortured together). 

THE END! Thanks for reading my overly-long and overly-obsessive list.  Do come again soon.  I’ll probably have another of these up next week.  🤍🤍🤍

[imlostinsantacarla]

(a/n: this wasn’t requested, i’m just teen wolf trash rn and i miss writing for the fandom. also, did i mention i’m in love with cora hale? so since i’ve done a cuddling hc for erica i decided to do one for cora bc she also deserves so much love and was such an underrated character as well. - admin kat🌙❣)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Cuddling with Cora Hale Headcanons:

° regardless of your gender, size and height, cora hale is hands down the big spoon 99% of the time when it comes to cuddling. i imagine this to be bc of her protective nature of those she holds nearest to her heart, but also bc she’s lost so much already, she doesn’t want to lose you; and by holding you, it’s a reminder to her that you’re there, solid and real.

° she always has her face buried into your back or shoulders, and you always feel her lips graze your skin in a soft sincere smile. it makes your heart flutter, to which she always comments on.

° “why did your heart do that weird thing again?”

° “what weird thing?”

° “that weird thing it does when you feel me smile against your skin?”

° “well there’s your answer.”

° but there’re some days where she needs to be held and you literally jump at the opportunity to hold her, being the big spoon or having her lay on top of you. the first time it happened was when the alphas broke into the loft and almost killed derek, she felt scared and vulnerable, reminded once again that not just hunters can come into her life and take away her family.

° cora isn’t always good with her words, she shows how she feels about someone through her actions; and it’s common for her to show her love for you when you’re cuddling. it’s shown in the way she grips you tighter to her, smooths hair out of your face or kisses your forehead.

° and she predominantly shows her affection and love for you through actions bc sometimes due to her bluntness, she can come across as really acerbic or flat? but overtime you’ve begun to be able to decipher what she really means. showing feelings can be difficult for her.

° cora does tell you she loves you, i suppose out of all the hale’s she is the most playful, but only with you.

° “i love you, you big doofus!”

° “shut up, i love you.”

° “you look really beautiful today. i just wanted you to know.”

° derek walks in on you guys cuddling all the time and he’s always clearing his throat to which cora no longer even acknowledges him any more. she used to lift her head up and quirk her brow at him before rolling her eyes and resuming to holding you.

° “what? it’s not like we’re butt naked and fucking or anything.”

° “you guys fu- actually, don’t answer that! i don’t wanna know!”

° “cora!”

° you always lay your head on her chest when you cuddle and naturally her fingers nestle lovingly in your hair. she’s really so soft for you, even scott’s pack tease her about it. she used to get mad and punch the guys, but now she just rolls her eyes and becomes pouty, but she can’t deny it... she is soft for you.

° when you’re alone, cora will gravitate towards you, placing herself in your arms, her head on your shoulder or in your chest. over time, she really allows herself to be vulnerable with you, letting you hold her.

° it was a huge milestone when cora fell asleep on you when you guys were cuddling and watching a movie. it meant that she trusted you. you never let her or the pack hear the end of it for like three months!

° “guys! did i tell you how cora fell asleep in my arms-”

° “yes, for the hundredth time, in fact! now will you shut up about cora falling asleep while you cuddle? we have danger coming for our asses left, right and center!”

° when she’s extra grouchy and just having a bad day you blow raspberry kisses on her neck. she pretends to be annoyed but then she starts grinning so wide and giggling. that always cheers her up.

° no one would ever really believe you, but cora initiates most of the cuddling and you can’t change my mind!

° cuddling often turns to adventurous hands and deep kisses with bottom lips softly nibbled...

° and once that starts, the cuddling sessions are on a time out and other activities ensue, leaving you breathless and hot and bothered.

° but you two pick up on cuddling right after though.

° cora will often pull you into her lap when you’re studying. she’ll just watch you study, having long forgotten her own homework.

° “why are you staring at me?”

° “because you’re more interesting than chemistry and math.”

° “fair enough.”

° you end up using cuddles as a reward for cora when she finishes at least two hours of studying with you. but even if she’s defiant and chooses not to study, she’ll just cuddle you anyway.

° you rub circles on her back and she  m e l t s ! ! !

° you kiss all over her face as well, which she pulls a ‘i’m done with you’ expression, but she secretly loves it and you even know it.

° “what are you, my grandma/grandpa?”

° “a hot grandma/grandpa!”

° “ew, you’re gross.”

° “and you love it! don’t lie.”

° she loves cuddling on days where the sun shines through the windows. she falls asleep on those days. you swear she’s a cat in disguise.

° cora can be pretty goofy when she cuddles, sprinkling her fingers on your sides, softly nipping your shoulders with her teeth, pinching you softly to get your attention on her. she’s an attention whore, but only for your attention.

° when you guys fall asleep whilst cuddling, you’re always holding hands. it’s the sweetest thing ever!

° you like to trace over her facial features when she’s thinking and you’re cuddling, it makes her smile and then kiss your knuckles sweetly.

° “what’re you thinking about, dumb dumb?”

° “about taking you back to south america with me. i’d really love for you to see where i spent most of my life.”

° “really?!”

° “yes, you doofus!”

° after she’s been in a battle she always heads to your house after in the dead of night, sneaking in through your window, climbing in under the sheets and snuggling into your side. she’s freezing from the cold air, which prompts you awake with a jolt.

° “you’re cold!”

° “shhh... i won’t be for much longer. go back to sleep.”

° “are you hurt?”

° “not any more.”

° sometimes she’ll be laying on your bed, looking up at the ceiling and you’ll suddenly run and jump on top of her like a total starfish. it knocks the wind out of you both but you both start laughing.

° “what the hell was that for?”

° “i wanted your attention.”

° “well you have it now.”

° once she moved out of the way and you flew off your bed, to which she caught you before you hit the ground and placed you in her lap with the silliest grin plastered on her face. “asshole...” you’d muttered and pouted, “sorry, what was that? i didn’t quite hear you.”

° you tend to talk most during cuddle sessions, and cora doesn’t mind bc she’s a great listener and loves the sound of your voice.

° you guys share a lot of kisses when you cuddle. in fact, there’s a lot of kisses, and derek hates hearing it. “can you guys stop already? it’s the fiftieth time you’ve kissed in the past minute!” he’d gripe irritably. “wait until we start making out, then you’ll hear the noises from downtown, asshat.” cora would mutter with a smug smirk on her face. 

° even when it’s hot out, cora is latched onto you like a tiny koala bear. she’ll rarely let you get out of her grasp.

° “i’m gonna pee myself, cora.”

° “fine, go!”

° “thanks!”

° you latch onto her a lot too though, especially in school when you’re walking down the hallways. you’re behind her with your hands wrapped around her waist. at first she wasn’t comfortable with it, but as time has gone on she can’t help but grin when people look at you like you’re crazy bc she’d normally knock anyone else out who tried anything like that with her.

° when the two of you cuddle, in the safety of each other’s embraces, it’s when cora will tell you her secrets, her fears, her hopes, her dreams. she’s really blunt in general, but there’s an infinite amount of trust when you two are together. she tells you what she’s thinking because she trusts you and cares what you think.

° she’s totally the type of person that draws patterns on your skin then pretends to erase them and start again. it makes you laugh and smile a lot because there’s no trace of the patterns, so she doesn’t need to rub on your skin to get rid of them. but she insists she has to. like she  i n s i s t s  mate.

° cuddles aren’t quick with cora. be prepared to be there with her for hours on end.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: open!

[isthatbloodonhisshirt]

If you could change ten things about Teen Wolf what would you change??

OMG BUCKLE DOWN BECAUSE IT’S GONNA BE A LONG ONE! Do asks have a word limit? Guess we gonna find out! (Sometimes I wish I could speak these replies, they sound much funnier when I am speaking out loud to myself and then they are just weird and flat typed up but I DIGRESS! I do that a lot, have you noticed? Doesn’t matter.)

(Also, I did put a “Keep Reading” but for some reason it’s not working. Or it’s not showing as working on my end. But it’s right under this paragraph I swear so if it’s not working, that isn’t on me....)

1) SO! Trauma. People be dealing with their traumas. That’d be a thing I’d like, thank you. Like, I’m sorry, but there is a fuckton of trauma in this show and everyone like, goes to bed at night and wakes up cured. Like MAGIC! I mean, yes, I get that magic is a thing in the show (is it? I mean kind of? Idk, I never saw past season 4, they alluded to magic and then SNATCHED THAT AWAY so, side-note, that’s coming up later!) But yes, I would’ve very much liked for people to, you know, deal with their traumas in a realistic fashion. Let’s get some therapy going, or like, idk, some actual negative reactions to thing! They kind of had that with Stiles every now and then, but he seemed to be up and down episode to episode so like, it’d be like they wrote an episode where he reacts to what happened to him and then four episodes have gone by where he’s fine and the writers were like “OH YEAH SHIT HE JUST MURDERED LIKE A WHOLE HOSPITAL, make him have a panic attack randomly over dropping milk, that balances out, excellent, we’re so smart.” So yes. DEAL. WITH. THE. TRAUMA! Thanks.

2) LESS CHARACTERS, MORE DEVELOPMENT! I mentioned this in another recent ask about relationships but like, they just kept shoving characters in there. Like one of those clown cars. So we got like, 30% character development on the core group and then the rest was like “wait, who are you again?” Like, legit, I have a bad memory, you put too many people in front of me, I ain’t gonna remember them unless they have a good personality or a reason to be there. And like, develop their relationships! Not even romantically, but like, Scott’s mom loves Scott, that is sweet and lovely, but like, we never really… see… that… developed? Idk man, like again, I have a bad memory, but when you really develop relationships WELL (ex: Brooklyn-nine-nine), that shit sticks with you and you CARE about people. The friendships are important, and the familial relationships are important and just developing all the dynamics is important! They spent more time showcasing how much everyone hated each other and lied to each other and stuff and that just got really tiring. Yes, you’re allowed to get mad at your friends, but if you’re a Werewolf, and your human friend is calling you when there is a fucking monster running around killing people, can you maybe stop making out with your girlfriend and answer your phone so your friend isn’t treading water with a 200+ pound Werewolf for 2 hours? Like, JUST SAYING! (Spoiler alert: Me and Scott would not be close friends. Like, I think we’d be friends, but not so much that I’d trust him with my life. If I wanted to grab pizza and a movie, maybe play some video games, he sounds like a treat, but if my life was in danger, thanks I be callin’ someone who answers their phone).

3) Actual consequences for their actions! Okay like, I am also guilty of this in fanfic, but at the same time, my writing is free, I don’t get paid for it, and I write what I want because that’s how it works, so I can do whatever I please (If I wanna make the Hales royalty for the millionth time, ain’t nobody gonna stop me!). But like, when you are a legit paid screenwriter who is writing a show? Consequences! Just because it’s a show about Werewolves doesn’t mean there can’t be any consequences! Like, the best scene, and I feel like we can agree, because fuck it like, hurt my soul and my heart and I was just so like ;~; was when the sheriff got fired (fired? suspended? TEMPORARILY UNEMPLOYED!) because Stiles stole a police van when they locked Jackson up in it. Like, that shit was REAL LIFE CONSEQUENCES for actions, and that shit was intense and it HURT and omg I loved it! Give me more of that! Like, I’m sorry, but you gonna tell me Nogistune!Stiles walked through the hospital murdering a bazillion people and not one camera was working the whole time? Not one? Nobody saw that? Nobody went “hey, isn’t that the sheriff’s kid?” Like, CAN. YOU. IMAGINE?! That would’ve been so amazing, a bunch of episodes of the pack scrambling to keep the Supernatural a secret while also trying to stop Stiles from GETTING ARRESTED because saying “Sorry ma’am, I was possessed by a demon fox who likes chaos and thought murdering a bunch of people would be fun” ain’t gonna fly in court and the FBI sure isn’t gonna believe that but like, UGH! Again, bad memory, but was the fact that Dark!Stiles wandered through the hospital killing people EVER brought up again???? CONSEQUENCES. Woulda really liked that.

4) STOP with unnecessary romances. Like, yeah, I get it, the allos like their romances, but shockingly, you can still have a good show without focussing on the romance. Like, it can be there, I’m not saying don’t put it in, I’m saying DON’T MAKE IT THE MOST IMPORTANT THING! Like, the entirety of season one was Scott chasing Allison and Stiles chasing Lydia. This… this does not make an interesting show? Like, is that just me? And then as the season progressed, EVERYONE had to be in a relationship? WHY? Again, haven’t seen past season four, but I mean, I know Scott and Kira were a thing, and then Stiles and Malia, and Liam and some… person? Idk. And Ethan and Danny (congrats Jeff, you get to tick your “I had representation in my show!” box, well done, gold star, or whatever). And Isaac and Allison, and Melissa and Chris (apparently?). And then Stydia was alluded as being canon, and Scott ended up with Malia somehow?? And Derek slept with half the town and all of Mexico, idek. Like, stop it. Stop. Shows work without everything being about everyone banging each other. (See again: Brooklyn-nine-nine, or Avatar the Last Airbender, or The Good Place, or even fucking Supernatural!) You can have a good, interesting story without everyone banging each other. It ain’t necessary.

5) More actual storytelling (again, this woulda worked better without the unnecessary romances taking up 49 of the 50 minutes of air-time). Like, yes, I get it, pilot’s gotta have some pizzaz! Gotta be spicy and sparkly to make people interested (and like, fucking hell, all I can remember of the pilot is sobbing Allison soaking wet–LIKE, WAS THAT NECESSARY???–about the dog she hit and oh noes is it dead well thank God the lead character works for a vet! And somehow has keys and access to the whole clinic like nbd at all hours? Whatever. I wasn’t even allowed inside my blockbuster as a shift lead if it was off-hours but apparently a high school student doing paperwork at a vet clinic is different, I’m not a vet so what do I know? I HAD A BAD DAY OKAY, I GOT FEELINGS ABOUT THIS RN!) I went off-topic, what was I saying? Oh yes, storytelling. You know what woulda been nice? Werewolves! It happens, we find out about Laura, we find out about Werewolves, Scott gets bitten, all that jazz. And then like… ease in the Hunters? Like, why was there Laura/Derek, Peter, AND the Hunters all crammed into the pilot? Yes, I get it, you need the SUSPENSE and the DRAMA, but you can do that without the Hunters right off the bat. Just, how CONVENIENT~ that the same day Derek and Laura come back, Hunters move to town? That’s just lazy, and again, I can be guilty of laziness, I admit to it, but I literally get paid in—like, do hearts count? I get paid in hearts and pats on the back for my fics, I can write whatever I want. If you’re getting paid to write something, try a bit harder, yes? Yes???

What number am I on? Oh good Lord, I got things to say, okay.

6) MAGIC! Can you like—I feel like this one is self-explanatory. Stiles did the whole mountain ash thing in season one, and it was SO PROMISING, and then that just died. It died like Maes Hughes getting shot in a phonebooth (spoiler, but really, you haven’t seen that yet, that’s a you problem). Why even bother introducing magic if you weren’t gonna use it? Like, was it because people like Stiles more than Scott and the showrunner was like “nonono. If we make him magic, he’s TOO cool, and then Scott is unimportant.” I mean, you coulda worked that in your favour, but no. You just murdered the fuck out of it, like straight up took it out back and shot it. Like, yeah, Derek went kiddo again and Jennifer was apparently all magic beauty spell or whatever, but like?? That’s it??? You had a show about Werewolves and you didn’t even try to make it more interesting by making some of the characters magic? Lydia’s basically the closest and they didn’t even explain her powers that well. Magic would’ve been dope and they totally shoved that to the side. That was dumb. Shoulda done something with that.

7) Explain things more? Don’t mention them once and then do nothing? Like, we got some brief stuff about anchors, and emissaries (which are super duper secret according to Deaton but then like, EVERYONE KNOWS HE IS EMISSARY SO WHICH IS IT DEATON? YOU TELL ME!) Like, they had so much opportunity to talk about so many things and again, maybe that comes out more in the later seasons, idk, but they likely coulda done with more explanations and they didn’t and this angers me GREATLY. They mention something once and then it never comes up again. That’s some Lost bullshit right there. Don’t start something if you’re not gonna commit. You tell me the beginning of the story, I wanna fucking know the end, don’t forget halfway through and wander away, that ain’t right, I NEED ANSWERS JEFF! And like, as above, never really got Lydia’s powers. I know what a Banshee is, but her powers did NOT make sense to me. Idk, could just be that I’m dumb, but similarly, don’t write something so convoluted that it confuses people, that is also dumb. As dumb as I am so like, well done there. And also do we get more on Parrish? I know he’s a Hellhound, but how does one get born a Hellhound and not know until you are conveniently lit on fire by someone trying to kill you for money? (Also, you bean, you absolute treasure, “I’m worth five dollars?” You’re so cute. Silly child.) I feel like being a Hellhound is something that woulda come up before getting barbecued in his cruiser. Like, he works a stressful job, you gonna tell me not ONCE while getting shot at he didn’t have a massive heart attack over a close call and like, burst into flames? No? Is that just a me thing? I feel like the slightest annoyance and I’d be fully on fire, not gonna lie. (I’d be on fire a LOT… CLEARLY I AM AN ANGRY PERSON! No, that’s not true. No yes it is, I am angry, but more angry lately because I’m sleep-deprived and work is dumb ANYWAY back to this)

8) EMBRACE THE SIDE CHARACTERS! Okay, so MAYBE Scott is meant to be the golden child. The Dick Grayson of the show, if you will. The original Robin, the creme de la creme. That’s all fine and dandy if he is, no judgement (little judgement), but you know what you don’t do when your side characters are getting a lot of attention and love? What you DO NOT do is give them less screen time. Because then you’re being petty and, shockingly, you get more positive results when you give the fans what they want. I’m not talking about pairings, because everyone is different, and you can’t cater to everyone, but like, the more people moved away from liking Scott, the harder the showrunners pushed him into our faces. And like, that isn’t how this works. If I like side character 87 a lot, and the lead’s getting annoying, you know what’s gonna make me NOT watch the show? Cutting out side character 87 (hey, for shits and gigs, let’s call him DANNY, just, not coincidentally at all) and then just shoving the lead into my face. That is what makes someone go “Well, four seasons is enough, I can happily live knowing I didn’t waste my life watching two more of them.” Like??? I’m not saying cut out Scott, because the show is ABOUT Scott, but the more everyone tried to showcase how amazing and wonderful and pure and perfect he was, the more annoying it got? Like, Scott has flaws. THEY ALL HAVE FLAWS! If you don’t admit that they all have flaws, it gets boring, and you hate the characters. I know that Scott turned into a douche later (apparently, again, haven’t seen it), but even in the early seasons by trying to make him this pure True Alpha golden angel child who spreads love and hope and trusts everyone, it just got boring. He was vanilla, and also a bad friend, because he was too “perfect” to be around someone “imperfect” like Stiles, and even like, the rest of the pack overall. He was always put on a pedestal and it made the show really… irksome? Idk, I just feel like yes, SCOTT is the Teen Wolf, but you added all these damn side characters, maybe use them a bit more? At least Stiles was interesting, and Lydia was fucking badass, and fucking hell, if you’d done right by Boyd and Erica, the actors wouldn’t have left for better shows so like, come on man, you coulda done better. We coulda had such a dope show, why you gotta crush my dreams like that Jeff? What did I ever do to you?

I know this is only eight, but this is long enough, if I go two more, this is gonna be IN.SANE. And also it’s late and I haven’t finished my fic for the day (I mean, I’m almost done, but I’m not done yet!) So like, I’ma stop here. But yes, hopefully this answered your question. Sorry I got REALLY PASSIONATE about it but it’s been a day.

Also, I feel this needs to be said, but obviously these are my own personal opinions, and as opinions, you are not obligated to agree with them. But you are also not allowed to tell me my opinion is wrong. You can disagree with it, but this is an opinion, not a law, so there is no right and wrong. Don’t @ me, my day’s been bad enough kthx!

HAVE A GOOD NIGHT, BE BACK IN LIKE TWENTY(?) MINUTES!

[panharmonium]

Hey, do you ship merthur? I have conflicted feelings about it because Merlin does love Arthur but also their relationship is kinda shitty.

short answer: i do not

longer answer: i might not be the right person to ask about this, because i don’t really “ship” anything?  it’s not how i engage with fandom.  (disclaimer: this is not a value judgment of folks who do engage with fandom that way.  just an explanation of how my own brain works.)

extra long answer: under the cut, because i suppose it was only a matter of time before someone asked me about merlin/arthur, and i might as well put my entire response in one place so that next time, i can just link to it.

questions like this are a little tough for me to answer, because i am completely uninterested in romance as a premise.  if it’s not there, i don’t care.  if it is there, i often wish it weren’t, because it’s almost never developed in a way that lives up to my standards.  i don’t always mind if something contains romantic relationships (provided they’re written well), but i don’t want them to be the point of a story.  i honestly cannot think of anything less interesting to me than a story that has as its main plotline “x character falls in love with y character.”  for me, in my brain, it’s like, “okay...that’s it?  do you have anything else to say?”  there is literally nothing about that that i care about.

this can be a little difficult to navigate in fandom, because one of the oft-heard commendations of “fandom” is ‘gosh, fandom is so wonderful, we can watch the same two characters fall in love again and again and again in a million different scenarios!’  which is true, for the people who care about that sort of thing, but that’s not actually ‘fandom.’  that’s shipping.  and there’s nothing wrong with shipping, but shipping and fandom are not the same thing, and they’ve become so conflated that it can be very difficult to engage in the latter without being absolutely swamped by the former.

many times, for me, fandom can feel synonymous with shipping.  there was a post i reblogged recently whose tags described shipping as often feeling like a prerequisite to engaging with fandom, and that is often what it feels like to me, particularly in fandoms where one ship is so ubiquitous that any and all other material is utterly dwarfed by it in scale.  (for me, my last two major fandoms have been merlin and teen wolf, so - i’m sure you see my dilemma, heh.)

all of that said, in terms of arthur and merlin specifically...

disclaimer: everything i say here is relevant to me only.  these are my own feelings.  i am making this post on my own blog, in my own space, in response to a question about my own thoughts.  i do not want, expect, or need anyone else to share these thoughts.  any commentary i make about fandom trends is not equivalent to condemnations of individual people’s opinions or shipping habits.  i do not mind or take issue with folks who ship these two characters.  i am glad you are having fun.  please do not @ me about something you disagree with.  i promise you it is not necessary.

okay.  with that out of the way.  

part of me is reluctant to expound further on this question, because my personal philosophy is that merlin and arthur as a ship have had more than enough time and space devoted to them in this fandom (way more than their share, frankly) and i generally prefer to focus on merlin and the other people in his life, as a deliberate counter to that.  but, since you asked, and because i have been experiencing the “i’m tired of romance” bug more strongly lately, here is the long-form version.

the number one reason why i don’t ship arthur and merlin is what i already outlined above: i don’t really “ship” anything.  i have never looked at two characters who were not already together/on an obvious potential path to being together and said “i want them to fall in love.”  that has just never happened to me.  (again - it’s not a BAD thing to have this happen, it’s just not something that’s ever happened to me.  i can’t relate to the experience.)

therefore, when i do appreciate a romantic relationship, it’s pretty much always because canon has shown me something romantic (or clearly pre-romantic) that i find to be well-written and compelling.  (it’s rare - as i outlined before, i would usually rather not deal with romance at all - but it happens.)  

arthur and merlin, then, never had that effect on me, because arthur and merlin, as depicted in the canon, are not in love.

[to anybody reading this who just snatched up their keyboard and started furiously typing, i beg you - please go back and re-read my disclaimer.]

they’re not in love.  the truth about these two is that if i had watched this show without having grown up in fandom as a culture (and without knowing exactly what kind of ships fandom immediately sees EVERYWHERE) the idea of anybody shipping these two together would never have even entered my mind.

(and like.  because i DID grow up in fandom, and i DO know exactly what kind of ships fandom sees everywhere, i knew before i even started this show that arthur/merlin was going to be an inescapable thing.  but that would not have been the case, if i had watched the series in a world where i didn’t know what fandom was.)

arthur and merlin, in canon, are not in love.  the show never does anything to give me an inkling that either of them are harboring romantic feelings for each other.  that is never what is happening onscreen.  literally the last thing on merlin’s agenda is romantic attachment, ever, and arthur is never, ever shown to be in love with anyone who isn’t gwen.  the show, onscreen, never tricks me, teases me, or leads me on.  i was never under the impression that merlin and arthur were in love with each other, because they weren’t.

but that DOES NOT MEAN their relationship matters less.  just because they aren’t IN love with each other doesn’t mean they don’t love each other, and one of those things is not bigger or better or more powerful than the other.

i struggle a lot in fandom (all fandom, not just merlin) with the persistent idea that romantic attachment is the peak, the natural endpoint on a scale of “how deep is your love?”  i am constantly running up against posts where the commonly accepted structure is to cite a moment of devotion or caring or some instance of basic connection between two characters, and then add a caption or tag saying ‘because they are JUST FRIENDS, right?’ or ‘^^totally platonic interaction between characters who are not at all in love, sure jan.’  

and honestly?  i hate that.  that is one of my least favorite things about fandom.  it makes me so tired.  

i am completely disconnected from this idea that there are like...things you can do that are too caring to count as friendship.  like - that there is too much devotion you can show, and if you go over the limit, then it’s laughable that you would do those things for “just” a friend.  that’s so unpleasant to me.

(and i do think [when it comes to non-canon queer ships, anyway - straight ships unfortunately have no excuse, sorry y’all] that part of this probably has its roots in pushback at the tendency of people who try to “gal pal” actual queer ships (or literal real life relationships), so this, at least, is something i can understand.  i’m queer myself; i get that.  and that is why i will never like - attach myself to someone’s post and start complaining.  people can vent however they want.)

it doesn’t change my own feelings, though.  i hate seeing every meaningful friendship i’ve ever been invested in talked about like it’s just a romance in disguise.

other things: i am uninterested in romance as a motivator.  

truly, from the bottom of my heart, i don’t care.

we are, at least in my corner of the world, oversaturated with romance, to the point where any piece of media that doesn’t include it in some fashion is shockingly bizarre.  it is EVERYWHERE.  it is in EVERYTHING.  i cannot pick up a book without running into a romantic plotline.  i cannot watch a movie or a tv show without being forced into multiple romances that i don’t care about.  (rare exceptions apply, as always, but i’m speaking generally.)

this oversaturation, for me, means that romance as a storyline no longer holds any meaning for me.  i see it EVERYWHERE.  it is in literally EVERYTHING.  making merlin into a “love story,” for me, makes the show so much less interesting, because there are billions of love stories out there.  love stories are practically the only kind of story our media remembers how to tell!  why would i take a story that is so unique in its exploration of deep friendship (that isn’t even quite friendship, because it’s not real, but merlin wants it to be real, but making it real would also destroy it) and loyalty (that isn’t necessarily deserved, but is still offered, but is damaging to the person offering it) and love (that exists in spite of arthur’s position as the oppressor, but still cannot erase merlin’s oppression, and is patently not a magical fix for the very real problems merlin is facing), and then want to water it down to “and then they fell in love”???

merlin bbc has so much to say about the transformative, redemptive power of love (not just romance), and the bonds we form with each other despite the fact that we don’t always deserve each other, and what we can do to make ourselves better, and how do we make amends for the ways in which we hurt the people we care about, and it is so complicated and there is so much beauty there and i adore it specifically because it is one of the rare pieces of media out there that doesn’t prop up romantic love as the most important and powerful force in the universe.  romantic love is not what moves the story.  merlin’s love for the people around him is based on compassion.  it’s bigger than the familiar and overused ‘i am desperately in love with this one individual person and that’s what drives my actions,” which is a premise all of us know has been done to death.  merlin’s love is not about romantic attachment.  it’s a deep, abiding love for humanity.  it’s based on hope, and faith, and the inherent belief that everybody matters, even in their worst moments.

condensing that kind of story into “and then they fell in love” erases its meaning for me.  it makes it trite.  uninteresting.  i have seen “and then they fell in love” fully sixty thousand times.  “and then they fell in love” has been done so often that it is utterly devoid of power for me.  boring.   i literally do not care.

other people might feel differently, and find a romantic love story compelling.  i don’t.  

i’m guessing the message that prompted this essay is asking me to evaluate how i feel about the “goodness” of the merlin/arthur ship, aka whether it’s worthwhile to ship it or not based on how healthy/unhealthy it is, which i definitely can’t answer, because i don’t think whether it’s “good” or not really matters.  i am definitely too old to be riding the newer wave of, uh...idk, purity culture type stuff that is so oft-debated on here, lately.

but you’re absolutely right, anon - merlin and arthur’s relationship IS kinda shitty!  it 100% is.  it doesn’t mean you can’t ship them, though, if you want; otherwise i wouldn’t be invested in any aspect of their friendship, either.  

the fact that merlin and arthur’s relationship is kinda shitty is an essential element of the show; it’s the microcosmic representation of the macrocosmic problem merlin is trying to solve, and even with that being the case, we can see clearly that this also doesn’t preclude them from having real moments of connection and care and love.  this is the contradiction i have to keep in mind whenever i engage with them in the friendship sense - merlin has been wronged by arthur in so many ways, and yet he still loves him and believes arthur can do better, and yet his dedication to arthur really does destroy his life piece by piece, and you really have to walk a line between those extremes and be thinking: in what ways was this a noble, honorable path for merlin to take and in what ways was this damaging, and was it all worth it in the end?

we probably wouldn’t still be watching this show if we didn’t ultimately think the answer to that last question was yes.  but there are also equally valid ways in which the answer is, truthfully, no, and i think really the only important thing when dealing with merlin and arthur’s relationship (in whatever capacity you prefer) is to keep that dissonance in mind.

so, to more directly address your question, when it comes to my interaction with the source material, i don’t ship merlin and arthur romantically because i don’t see romance when they interact in canon, and i don’t think their relationship could be improved or made more interesting/more meaningful by adding extra-canonical romance into the mix.  that’s really it.

but the other side of things is this: even if i were granted someone else’s ship-goggles to somehow see romance between these two (eg, once, in the distant past i read a harry potter fic that was so well-constructed it sold me on a relationship i didn’t [and still don’t] actually see in canon), i still wouldn’t choose to ship merlin and arthur, and it’s not because they’re a “bad” ship (no such thing, folks - tag your stuff and let people live their lives, thank you), it’s because this fandom has already been swallowed by them and i cannot bring myself to make that imbalance worse.

trying to be in the merlin fandom without shipping merlin and arthur is just...a little bit difficult sometimes.  i think probably even people who do ship merlin/arthur are aware of that.  sometimes it can feel like merlin/arthur is a given in this fandom, not one of many options - as if you’re not in the merlin fandom, but rather the merthur fandom, and you know you really, really do not belong there.

and it’s not even a canonical ship!  it’s not even real.  and yet if you like this show, and you want to engage in the fandom, your experience is, without exception, going to be chock full of merlin/arthur content by default.

essentially, my struggle with the merlin/arthur dynamic in fandom is two-fold:

1) the strikingly imbalanced content distribution

the merlin fandom, in terms of content distribution, is a pretty accurate mirror of merlin’s own existence, to be honest, in that pretty much every aspect of it is eventually taken over by arthur pendragon, and in that there’s a reasonable debate to be had about whether or not that’s a good thing.

(spoiler alert: it’s not.)

even so, it is what it is, and as i said before, me commenting on fandom trends is not meant as a condemnation of individual preferences.  people like what they like!  that’s just how things are.  shipping arthur and merlin isn’t a Bad thing to do, by any means, and the fact that so many people do is just, you know, bad luck for me, lol.  but at the same time, the wildly unbalanced distribution of content does make it more difficult for folks who don’t ship merlin/arthur to engage in fandom with quite the same level of ease, and even though it’s nobody’s fault, it is still perfectly reasonable for people who don’t ship merlin/arthur to be frustrated about that.

fanfic is a pretty good case study for how this plays out.  i saw a post a while back that was titled something like ‘merlin bbc gothic,’ and the first bullet point was “canon ships are rarepairs,” and HOO BOY, that is true.  stats-wise, merlin/arthur makes up ⅔ of the merlin fic on AO3.  ~25,000 fics.  the next most popular tag after merlin/arthur is arthur/gwen, but arthur/gwen have ~2,900 fics in their tag.  and when you remember to exclude any instance of merlin/arthur from the arthur/gwen tag, that number drops by another thousand, to ~1,940.

that’s buckwild.  come on.  merlin/arthur has twenty-three THOUSAND more fics than the next most popular (and CANONICAL, i might add) ship?  and every other ship’s numbers are even lower than that?*

and if you don’t want to read shippy stuff in the first place, like me - the merlin “gen” tag has less than 8000 fics in it, by comparison, and then you STILL have to filter merlin/arthur out of the gen fics, leaving you with about 6300 - which number has to be filtered down further to remove OTHER ships that still make it past the gen filter.

in comparison to 25,000.

like.  i’ve been in fandom long enough that i’m not surprised - mean, i came into merlin directly off a teen wolf phase, and boy, that’s a whole other bowl of noodles right there, with added squick factors that are irrelevant here - but i’m still just...man. 

it still makes my head spin.  and it is still frustrating, every time.

*(there is a lot more to be said about how gwen fits into all of this, and i know it has been discussed more thoroughly in other places, but yes, another reason i am leery of arthur/merlin as a thing is that i’m just...not super comfortable with what that implies for gwen and her position in the story.  even if i personally am slightly more compelled by gwen/lancelot, technically - i still don’t quite feel comfortable taking gwen out of her canonical place.  she belongs at the top.  she deserves to be the love interest and she deserves to be the queen.  and like - people can say that her relationship with arthur isn’t “developed” or “convincing” enough to warrant retaining in fic, and i get it, the show really did fail gwen in S5 - but i still don’t buy that argument.  people literally INVENTED a romantic relationship for themselves and put 25,000 fics worth of effort into building it up; there is no reason why an “underdeveloped” canon romance couldn’t have gotten the same treatment.  except, of course, for the fact that one [Black, female] character was being shoved aside to make way for yet another two white dudes.)

(and i’m not saying that everyone is doing this deliberately or maliciously.  but we all know this is a cross-fandom trend.  there is literally no reason for the gap in content to be THAT wide.  a canon relationship with twenty-three thousand fewer fics than an invented ship?  just...that is a stat that bears thinking about.  it doesn’t mean that merlin/arthur is a “bad” ship, or that you can’t prefer lancelot/gwen, but it IS still important to recognize these patterns where they occur, across fandoms, and to really think about what they mean.)

2) the arthur-goggles

my second struggle with merlin/arthur in fandom is the ubiquitousness of the arthur-goggles, aka: the tendency in fandom, as in canon, to make everything in merlin’s life about arthur, and everything in the show about merthur.

this one specifically really gets to me.  i am very committed to the idea that merlin is a complete individual, whether arthur is there or not.  i write a LOT of meta about merlin being a whole person, specifically pushing back on the idea that merlin was “born” for arthur’s benefit - my motto is basically that “merlin’s life does not revolve around arthur pendragon,” and the way his life begins to revolve around arthur pendragon in later seasons is not in fact touching or romantic or beautiful; it’s a tragedy.  merlin does not exist only in the context of his relationship with arthur; he possesses worth outside of his mission to save the prince of camelot, and he was already a complete person before he ever met the prince of camelot, and one of the many issues we have to think about when dealing with arthur and merlin in any capacity is how merlin is told from the get-go that he is supposed to devote his whole life to arthur, but arthur is never given any such reciprocal responsibility.  

merlin and arthur’s relationship, just like the distribution of content in this fandom, is wildly imbalanced.  merlin spends all of his spare time thinking about arthur’s life; he ties himself in knots trying to help arthur develop as a person.  he is constantly working to keep arthur safe and happy.  but arthur, at the end of a long day, doesn’t spend his nights agonizing over how he can improve merlin’s life.  he just goes home and goes to bed.  he never once thinks, ‘my purpose on this earth is to serve and support my friend merlin.’  he is never told his life isn’t his own, that he is supposed to be one half of some two-sided coin.  only merlin is told that his entire existence is earmarked for someone else, that his life’s purpose is to be someone else’s better half.  only merlin is expected to devote his entire being to someone else’s betterment.  only merlin is expected to say demeaning, self-abnegating things like “i was born to serve you.”  

arthur, by contrast, is allowed to have a life of his own.  he is allowed to exist on his own terms.  he is never told that his worth is dependent on how well he can prop someone else up.  and while fic might like to imagine merlin being the most important thing in arthur’s life, in canon that is just not the case.  

merlin exists on his own merits, and the idea that he does everything he does just because “he’s in love with arthur” will never sit right with me, because it’s simply not true.  merlin and arthur’s relationship is important to both of them, yes, and of course it is undergirded by deep love and care, but it is also way more complicated than that.  merlin’s investment in arthur’s life - and his grief at arthur’s death - are NOT solely driven by his love for arthur as an individual; they are inextricably bound up with a sense of obligation and duty and self-worth and, eventually, failure, because he’s been told that protecting arthur is a) the only thing that matters about his own life and b) the only way to free his people and save an entire kingdom.  and i think ignoring this very real complexity in favor of “merlin does what he does and feels what he feels because he’s in love with arthur” cheapens the depth of the story and flattens merlin’s character.

arthur-goggles automatically make everything about merlin/arthur, though.  so the difficulty, for me, with merlin/arthur as a ship, is that it can be hard to make/find things about merlin that people don’t instantly, always try to link back to arthur in some way.  merlin is not allowed to have things that are just his, and he can’t exist in a state where arthur doesn’t somehow factor in - no matter how unrelated to arthur something is, or how non-shippy it’s meant to be - there’s someone out there who’s going to loop it back to merthur in some way.

just like - scattered examples of things I’ve encountered:

all of merlin’s non-arthur love interests on AO3 having massive chunks of their ship tags actually being merthur fics, with the non-arthur ship serving solely as a stepping stone on the way to getting merlin and arthur together

readers, on fics that are specifically designated as focusing on merlin+someone else and in which arthur does not appear, leaving comments asking “so how long until arthur shows up,” “can’t wait to see arthur,” etc

meta about how ‘merlin’s time in camelot was actually really bad for him as a person’ being reblogged and modified by someone else with an addition like “but merlin doesn’t regret a second of it because he wouldn’t have known arthur if he were anywhere else,” and the OP having to reblog their own post and explain that this is literally the exact problem they were trying to critique

in fic, merlin’s friends being utilized only as vessels with whom he can have discussions about his developing relationship with arthur

etc etc

it’s not always huge egregious things, but wearing arthur-goggles means EVERYTHING comes back to merthur in some way, which for me is just...really insulting to other characters, and really limiting in terms of story analysis.  

so, for example - this is a VERY specific example that few will relate to, because i am probably the only person on here who has ever tried to search the tag for merlin’s friend will from ealdor (a niche fave of mine) - but with him, especially, it is very hard to avoid bumping into a lot of people wearing arthur-goggles, because everybody seems to imagine him as merlin’s ex, who is only upset about what’s going on in 1.10 because he’s jealous about arthur appearing alongside merlin, never mind that will and merlin have known each other since birth and have a relationship that LITERALLY predates arthur by two decades.

so with him, as an example - the other day, i saw some post in the tag that was like “will gets teary when arthur makes his inspirational speech in ealdor because he finally understands what merlin sees in arthur and he can’t be mad anymore”

and that is just patently untrue.  it is not even remotely close to a legitimate interpretation of what is happening in that scene.  will hasn’t come around to arthur’s way of thinking yet; he literally still packs his things and leaves after this happens, and he is - i mean, first of all, he’s not crying, lol, and he stalks out of that scene weary, angry, and fed up, because he thinks the village is delusional and all of his neighbors are going to get killed in the morning.  his arc - his dissatisfaction with what is going on, his anger at the ignorance arthur wields as a nobleman with all of that wealth and privilege, his resistance to the big “let’s fight kanen’s men with sticks” plan - that is about him and his history and who he is.  it is not about an (imaginary) merlin/arthur love story.  

but when the arthur-goggles are on, all roads lead to merthur.  even when the other characters in question (*coughWILLIAMcough*) would be beyond mortified to have merthur, of all things, assigned as their motivation.

SO.  now that i’ve gone over both the canon and fandom aspects of my reasoning, the succinct summary in response to your question is just that no, i don’t personally ship merlin/arthur.  because:

a) i don’t see it b) the fandom is already trying to drown me with it and i choose to center other characters out of spite c) i just think merlin deserves better lol

however, as i said in my disclaimer - that doesn’t mean other people shouldn’t ship and enjoy it!   merlin/arthur is very much not my cup of tea, but that’s no reason why other folks can’t have fun with it.  i think the best portrayals of it, probably, will be those that keep in mind exactly what you said - that merlin and arthur’s relationship is “kinda shitty” - but this is fandom, so if what folks really want to write is just lots of happy AU’s with no issues, then they should go for it!  the point of fandom is to have fun connecting with people over a shared love of something, so i am happy to let others have fun doing their thing, and i will just be over here doing mine. 🙂

[def-initely-soul]

Welcome back, lovely!! I’m so glad to see that you are continuing to write. Please take your time with it. Can I please request for prompt #26 fluff for Mark Tuan? Thank you 💚💚💚

omg, thank you so much! 😭 I’ll try my best! 💖💖💖

Songs to listen to: Thriller - Michael Jackson + Masquerade - Sleeping At Last

Bias: Mark from GOT7

Prompt(s): #26 “I just found out my best friend and love of my life isn’t human and you’re criticizing me for being shocked?!”

Genre: Supernatural/Fluff/PG-13

Warnings: None

Words: 3.6k (oops)

“Did they seriously just try to pass that as a decent werewolf movie?!” Mark complains with a mouth full of french fries as you sip on your milkshake in the dimly lit diner, near the cinema you just were into.

You swallow a sip and then you sigh, again, at your best friend’s whining, before putting your milkshake down. All you wanted to do was to go out and see some monstery Halloween movie to get into the spirit of the holiday but Mark might just manage to ruin it for you.

“I mean come on, did they really expect us to believe he wouldn’t have checked for a full moon before he took that girl on a date? It doesn’t make sense!” he continues after swallowing the contents in his mouth before taking a sip of his coke.

“Or that he took her on a date, without any gas in his car, so they’d have to walk through the forest?! Jesus, at least try to convince us…”

You’re currently the only ones still in the diner that’s been decorated for the holiday. Fake cobwebs and spiders hang from the ceiling with cheap electric candles on every table and faded wall decals on walls, trying to give the restaurant a more spooky vibe and failing miserably, instead giving it a more cheap vibe.

The clock on the wall informs you it’s almost closing time and by the looks the only waitress left, Donna, gives you, you’d say it’s time to go. Besides, you grew tired of listening to Mark being so incredulously offended by a simple movie.

So you take one last sip from your milkshake before, “Come on, we should go,” you gather your stuff, before moving on to put on your jacket.

Mark regards you with a confused expression, “Why, what time is it?” 

You point him to the clock on the wall and once his eyes reach the object, it’s like all color is drained from his face. His expression is frozen and then, without a warning, he stands up to put on his jacket.

Okay, he’s acting weird. Weirder even than badmouthing a simple movie.

“Are you good?” you say, weirded out by his behavior. He doesn’t have another curfew today, has he?

He clears his throat, before finally meeting your eyes. Only for a second though before looking forward but it’s all you need to see the seriousness hiding in his stare. “Yeap, yeap, all’s cool. I just lost track of time and I gotta be home early…” he explains quickly before the two of you walk out the diner.

Your eyes scrunch in doubt, as you follow him down the street. He doesn’t seem to mean that and you wonder curiously what’s wrong with him as you hug your arms around your middle for extra warmth. Everything’s dark in this time of the night, only a few street lamps lighting your way, making it all the more creepy with the slight breeze that ruffles the trees.

You never really got that curfew thing that’s going on with him. Ever since you knew him, he always has to get home early. And while that’s a normal thing when you’re in your teens, it makes no sense when you’re in your twenties.

You never got to ask him about it though. At high school, you didn’t think much of it, it was normal, you had a curfew as well. And now, well… At first, you thought he was ditching you to meet other girls and you didn’t want to get into that for a whole bunch of other reasons.

Well, okay, maybe not a whole bunch. Maybe it’s just this one reason. This tiny, itty bitty reason of you being in love with your best friend. 

Which he doesn’t know! And will never get to know if you have any say in this. Mark doesn’t see you that way. He never does and probably never will. So why ruin your friendship over something trivial?

A sudden grunt from your friend wakes you up from your reverie and you turn to see him crouching on his knees, hands around his torso, his breaths turned heavy. His legs are trembling, beads of sweat running the side of his face and his features are scrunched up in discomfort as he hisses in pain.

“Hey, are you okay? What happened?” you crouch immediately next to him to help him get up, worry evident in your face but he pushes you away instantly, almost hostile. Your worry dissipates shock and hurt taking its place as Mark tries to get up.

“I’m fine, it’s just a bellyache,” he mumbles through clenched teeth, but honestly it doesn’t do much to convince you, as he grunts again with a bit more force. You push aside your bruised ego as you try to get close to him once more to help.

“It doesn’t look like just a bellyache. Should I take you to a hospital-?”

“No!” Mark almost shouts at you and you’re left to look at him bewildered, as his eyes burn at you with almost… repulsion?

Mark never shouts at you. He shouts at other things when you’re with him, but never at you. 

And the way he looks at you… as if he hates you. It doesn’t sit well with you. Have you done something? And even if you did, why doesn’t he just tell you-?

“Actually, my house is just around the corner, so I’ll head out first. You should head home too…” he manages to get out before turning around and walking off without you, not waiting for an answer.

You stare at him as he disappears down the street and into the forest, completely astonished at this sudden turn of events. Did he just leave you alone in the middle of the street?

“Seriously…?” you mumble, irritated before shoving your hands into your pockets and walking towards your apartment, fuming at your friend’s behavior.

What the hell? You only wanted to check if he was alright, what the hell is his problem?

You try to calm down, but your anger only grows when you can’t seem to find an explanation for his behavior. And even still, you worry about him, whether he’ll be alright, if he’s gonna get home safe.

“God, if he’s okay tomorrow I’m gonna beat his ass…” you mumble to yourself, trying not to worry too much about him when he’s been such a douche to you.

He’ll be alright. He’s just gonna head home and go to sleep. He’ll be fine.

There’s no way he’s gonna be in so much pain he won’t be able to reach home. No way.

Instinctively you begin biting your nails, your imagination running wild with images of a helpless Mark, lying unconscious in the middle of the woods, nobody around to help him, and you can’t help it anymore.

With one tired sigh, you turn around on your feet to follow the way Mark followed, carefully stepping into the dark woods.

“He better be completely fine, or I’m taking him to the hospital before I whoop his ass.”

.

.

After five and a half minutes of wandering around, following the path you know leads to Mark’s house, you’re finally close enough to a clearing. But Mark is still nowhere to be seen.

Okay, now you really are starting to worry.

Where would he go? Did he actually fell unconscious in the woods? You wrap your arms around you protectively as you make your way towards the clearing when a movement from the other side of the trees gets your attention.

Your eyes are quick to follow and you see Mark walking out of the woods.

Only he’s not exactly walking. He’s stumbling.

He looks worse than before, his whole body trembling, sweating all over and with a painful grunt, he falls to the ground.

“Shit…” you whisper as you begin running towards him, emerging out of the woods only to stop dead in your tracks as you realize what’s happening.

Mark is on all fours, his breaths labored, hands clawing on the ground, leaves crunching underneath his palms as his whole body vibrates. The image blurry, making you question your sanity as you’re not quite sure if what you see is true. A deep, throaty growl resonates through the clearing and it takes you a second to realize it’s not coming from some animal nearby.

But from Mark.

It sends a chill down your spine as cold sweat runs down your back. That sound was not something a human could emit, nothing someone could simply imitate. It was animalistic, like stuff from nightmares and you can’t stop wondering if you heard right.

But then as your eyes remain on him, the most terrifying thing happens. As his image grows even more blurry and his body trembles uncontrollably, you swear something is changing.

His whole body is shaking, shifting into something you’re not quite sure you want to find out but your legs are immobile, stuck to the ground as you’re left watching your best friend release heavy grunts of pain into the cold ground. 

The sound of bones cracking, breaking and morphing into something else, something not at all human but not quite animal either reaches your ears, as Mark’s body transforms, arms and legs budging under the weight of his torso.

You don’t know what to do. Scream? Run? Honestly, you want to do both but you can’t find your voice nor the will to move your legs. You’re not even sure if you’re imagining things or if this is really happening. Maybe you’re dreaming. Yeah, that’s it.

But when you pinch your arm in an attempt to wake up, the image of Mark changing right in front of your eyes isn’t leaving. You’re left helpless, watching as Mark’s back hunches, elongates and changes as something black, something furry emerges from beneath his clothes. And then as his figure grows bigger, the sound of fabric being ripped echoes through the woods and Mark’s clothes lay ruined on the soil.

But where naked skin should have been, there’s only black, silky fur.

Mark is nowhere to be seen and only a big, black wolf stands in his place.

This isn’t real. This can’t be happening. You just witnessed Mark turning into a wolf. 

You’ve gone crazy.

The animal stands with its back on you, as it stretches. It digs its paws into the earth, breathing softly and sniffing the ground as its long, dark mane shines underneath the moonlight.

Of course. Of course, there’s a full moon tonight.

You make your decision quickly, while the wolf-Mark (you’re not quite sure what to believe yet) is looking away from you. You’ll just go home, sleep it off and realize the morning after that it was all a dream.

But as you take a step back, your foot lands on a branch that cracks under your weight and the sound travels through the dead of night.

At once the wolf raises its head, ears on point and you stand still. Fuck. Now what? You don’t know if the animal is Mark or even if it is, if it has Mark’s consciousness. 

What if it attacks you? What will you do then?

The wolf’s head turns slowly into your direction and its eyes meet yours.

And suddenly all fear and doubt dissipate. You know it’s not gonna hurt you. Because even though the body is one of a wolf, the eyes are human.

They’re Mark’s.

A sharp breath escapes your tensed chest as you keep your eyes on the wolf. The animal stares at you immobile, not daring to leave nor to approach, regarding you with wariness, as if knowing you’re one second away from freaking out.

“Mark…?” you find yourself whispering into the night, hoping that your friend has the sanity to recognize you.

The wolf looks at you, gaze unnerving, stance unchanging while you wait for it to do something, anything with your breath trapped inside your throat.

But then the animal finally moves. It drags its paws against the leaves to come closer but its movements are not threatening. They’re slow and careful, giving you space and time to change your mind and leave, but you don’t. You wait for the creature to approach you and when the animal is right in front of you, it places its snout against your palm, softly, tenderly. And it looks at you with its very human eyes.

Or more appropriately he looks at you.

An incredulous chuckle escapes you as the animal nudges your hand for pets and you happily oblige, now that you know he’s not gonna hurt you.

“God, is that really you?” and you swear the animal almost nods.

Huh. Your best friend is a werewolf. 

Mark again nudges your hand but this time he turns his head towards his clothes and then back at you as if waiting for you to do something.

You stare at him with frowned features as you try to understand. “What? You want me to pick up your clothes? They’re ruined,” you observe but he looks once again towards the pile of ripped clothes and runs over to go through them with his paws.

With a sigh, you follow him and kneel beside him as he digs through his clothes, searching for something.

“What is it, Lassie? Did Timmy fall down the well?” you ask with fake worry and when wolf-Mark turns to look at you, you swear you can see his special face of disappointment reserved only for you.

A loud laugh escapes you. Man, this is really ridiculous. Your best friend is a wolf and he looked at you like you’re nothing but a nuisance.

You wipe a hypothetical tear from your eye. “Alright, alright, I’ll help. What are we looking for, I’ll just take my phone out to flash some light here.”

As soon as you say that Mark nudges your hand once more as if to say “That’s it!”

“Ooooh, your phone? What didn’t you say something sooner?”

Again his face is nowhere near impressed.

You snort as you dial up his number, “Right, right, sorry, cause you couldn’t.”

After successfully finding his phone, wallet, and keys, Mark leads you through the woods to the front of his house. You take out his keys to unlock the front door and for a moment you think you see Mark looking at you with almost… fear. But as soon as it comes, it goes.

Maybe it was just your imagination.

You open the door and make way for him to pass through. “There you go. Have a good night’s sleep because tomorrow you’ll have a lot of explaining to do,” you say and take a step forward to leave but something stops you.

You turn around to see Mark biting on the sleeve of your jacket, stopping you from leaving. When you look at his face, his eyes look almost pleading and you find yourself having doubts about going home.

“You want me to stay?” you whisper and he nods.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from your part before you nod as well.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

.

.

Next morning finds you curled up, upon Mark’s couch. Something that has happened countless other times only it wasn’t with a huge wolf napping on the floor next to you.

You stretch your arms while you stifle a yawn. God, last night seemed like a dream. Maybe it was and you actually imagined the whole thing.

But as the sun infiltrates the living room and you open your eyes, you find a very human, very naked Mark being curled up in the same spot, in the very same position as wolf-Mark was last night.

An involuntary shriek escapes you and manages to wake up Mark, enough to startle him into a standing position, head snapping around looking for a potential threat as you immediately hide your face behind your palms.

“What, what, what happened?” he asks warily, eyes scanning the room before looking down at you. Only he sees you curled into yourself, hands hiding your eyes before “Please put some clothes on!”

Oh, right.

“Fuck…” he mumbles to himself before he quickly disappears into his room and only when you hear the door closing behind him do you uncover your eyes.

You let out a breath, trying to calm yourself down from an imminent cardiac arrest.

I mean it’s another thing to know your best friend is a werewolf and a completely different thing to see him naked.

Oh my god. Your best friend is a werewolf. Last night wasn’t a dream.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

You can feel yourself spiraling but you can’t control it. Mark is a werewolf?! Werewolves exist?!

Jesus, if werewolves are real, what else is real?!

“Sorry about that, I swear I tried to wake up earlier to get dressed but I-?… Y/N, are you okay?” a fully clothed Mark emerges from his room, only to quickly come next to you, seeing you worrying yourself silly.

“You’re a werewolf…” you mumble incredulously, trying to control your breathing.

Mark’s worried eyes look at you confused. “I… Yeah. Yes, I am,” he answers slowly yet steadily. There’s caution hiding in the way he’s looking at you as if waiting for you to lash out on him any moment now.

When that thought crosses your mind, you realize why Mark looked at you like that last night. Afraid of your reaction the next day, after some sleep. Things are always different the next day.

“And… you didn’t attack me…” you add on, more like a statement than a question.

Marks lets out a small chuckle. “Why would I?”

You shrug, a million thoughts running through your mind. “I don’t know, I don’t know a single thing about werewolves, I thought maybe you’d be hostile, or maybe you wouldn’t recognize me, I mean how was I supposed to know you’d remember me, everything I know about werewolves are from stupid Halloween b-movies that don’t even make any sense so I-“

“Wow, wow, okay, okay, calm down, no need to act like this, you were just fine with it last night, why are you freaking out now?” Mark comments, raising his hands in the air as if to appease you but they have the exact opposite effect.

“Excuse me, I just found out my best friend and love of my life isn’t human and you’re criticizing me for being shocked?!” you lash out on him but only when his eyes grow in shock have you realized what you just said.

Oh, shit.

“What did you just say?” Mark stares at you completely dumbfounded.

“I- I-…” you stutter, panic flooding your senses, gaping as you try to find any words to say that could get you out of this.

But unfortunately for you, there are none.

“I meant I- I meant I-…” you try to save yourself from embarrassment with no obvious results.

You really hope Mark will drop this and let you get back to hiding your feelings from everyone and live the rest of your life in misery.

But of course, it’s not sensible to think that. And Mark still waits for an answer.

You take a breath. It’s now or never.

“Okay… I actually… like you,” your voice is quiet, timid and careful as you observe Mark with wary. You dread his reaction.

Mark blinks, opening his mouth to say something but he immediately regrets it. He just keeps on staring at you, without saying anything, driving you more and more into getting lost into your own doubts and fears.

Oh god, this is it. He’s gonna feel so awkward about it he’ll avoid you and then you’ll stop being friends, oh god, why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut-

But, well, Mark does it for you. With his lips on top of yours.

And it takes you entirely by surprise. So much that your eyes stay open and you can’t respond for the life of you. And after just a few seconds he pulls back, confusion written all over his face as he stares at you.

“You kissed me…” you observe in awe, still in shock and an involuntarily chuckle escapes Mark.

“Yeah, and I was kinda expecting for you to kiss me back…”  he responds with a smirk and Jesus fuck, did he just smirk at you?

“I-I, I don’t understand…” your voice comes out as a nervous rambling and Mark smiles at you and, honest to god, it sends your head spinning.

“I like you too, dumbass…” he leans over to whisper in your ear, and you can feel your entire face catching on fire. He likes you back. Mark likes you back and it’s not a dream. It’s real.

“Or should I say ‘love of my life’?” comes next and dear god, you can’t believe you said that.

You groan out loud as you shove him lightly, “God, that was embarrassing, don’t remind me~,” you whine between giggles and Mark chuckles as he places his hand on top of yours over his chest.

You look at your hands, your laughter dying down and when you look back at him, there’s a soft smile covering his lips and he leans in.

“Now, how about that kiss…?” he whispers against your lips.

You smile before leaning in.

[vuure]

Embrace your past and get to know your friends’ fandom origins!

Rules: Post gifs of your fandoms / ships starting with your most current hyperfixation and work backwards. (Bonus points if you share any stories about how or when you got into that ship! But not necessary!!) Then tag anyone whose fandom history you’d like to learn about!

 @ilackallhonour​ has tagged me in this, and usually I’m really bad at actually joining in, but this one really got me thinking back on all my old fandoms and hyperfixations. I didn’t really do shipping until a few years ago, might have something to do with my recently discovered ace-ness :’)

I always had fantasies that I was part of the world of that particular hyperfixation at time. Of course very heroic and awesome, and very close to my favorite character. Alas, real life is disappointing in that regard.

Merlin/Arthur, I never watched the show when it first came out. Mostly because I can be a bit stubborn and when a lot of people keep telling me that I should totally watch something because I will love it, I refuse to watch it. Don’t know why I’m like that. Turned out, I totally did love it, and binged it like crazy. Also shipped Arthur/Merlin like crazy. Was really disappointed in the ending, and thus, turned to fic. For me, when I’m really obsessed with a show or book I just cannot let go and will read fic until eventually my fixation dies out.

The Umbrella Academy, I don’t really ship anyone, except maybe bromances, and their sibling relationships (Five and Vanya <3 Klaus and Diego <3<3). Man, I love this show, I binged it when it first came out, immediately watched again, got other people to watch it, and watched it again so I could talk to them about it some more. Of course turned to fic, but got a bit eww-ed out, because there was a lot of shipping going on and I didn’t dig it (too each their own, though).

Black Sails, uuuugh I can’t with this show. @Ilackallhonour actually got me curious about it because all the stuff she posted and reblogged. And damn, was it a life changer. I’ve always had a bit of a weird obsession with ships and that time period, but more from Dutch, and VOC perspective. Still, the setting immediately hooked me in, but I really stayed for the story, the characters…Silver. Oh damn. And Silver/Flint, oh double damn.

Sterek. Really, I can’t even say I liked Teen Wolf that much, although I did enjoy the first few seasons. But I stayed for every glimpse of Sterek I could catch. The first time Derek shoved Stiles into the wall I was screaming at my TV, NO WAY there are no people shipping that. Dude, that’s so canon it hurts! But well, the show turned into a big dumpster fire, and I found the online fandom. Got an AO3 account just so I could bookmark and comment and give out kudos so my favorite Sterek fic. And there are tons of fics. I can admit it, I was an addict. I can’t go on AO3 without drowning back in fandom hell, so I keep off it. Really, it was a problem. I was reading fic ALLLL the time. When I should’ve been working, sleeping, socializing, etc. Followed so many Sterek blogs on Tumblr, but wanted my sanity back so unfollowed them all. Sorry @andavs​, I still love your blog, and your art, and your fics sooooo much, but it was too big of a problem *sigh*

Harry Potter, of course. My favorite character was Fred, and got very upset when people tried to convince me he was exactly the same as George. NO HE ISN’T! He’s the idea guy!! Lol. It’s been a while since I’ve read the books, and not sure how much of that is true anymore. Back then I didn’t really do shipping, but now I’m a Drarry shipper, haha. The fics are just so goooood.

Gilmore Girls, duuuude. This show shaped my life. Every time I’m one a re-watch I’m like…oh thát’s where I got that from! I copied character traits and sense of humor and stuff into my own personality. Didn’t like the new episodes much, but that won’t destroy my love for the Gilmores.

Veronica Mars, same as with Gilmore Girls really. Huge impact on my life. Love the snarkiness, and yeah did have some ships in there. Actually did like the new season (though I hated the movie), but they did LoVe dirty man.

I should put Supernatural in this list too, although I feel like I abandoned the show and am not a true fan. I was obsessed with it for so long though. Those first seasons were so great, I loved the relationship between Dean and Sam (in a platonic, totally brotherly way because I do not like incest-y things) and the normal everyday hunting things part of the show. But than all the demons and angels en Gods came and I got a bit tired of the endless cycle of dying and being brought back to life, evil turned to good turned to evil turned to good thing. I’m of the opinion that shows should have an end. Just like three or four seasons, tops. Just finish it with a good, solid ending. Don’t drag it along until it dies an ugly death.

And now unto some total different things, that shaped my childhood. Hard to find a GIF for these books, but what is fandom without some cool art ^_^

 Tomorrow when the war began, by John Marsden. I was obsessed with these books, and read them over and over again, even now I’m not tired of them and could get lost in them before I finished the first page.

Wheel of Time, Robert Jordan. This series really got me into the fantasy genre back then. I had no idea of any of the fantasy cliché’s, or Arthur legends yet, so I wasn’t tired yet of all the same old tropes. I find it a lot harder now to read them, but back then I saved money to be able to buy them as soon as a new one came out, and re-read the entire series up till that point before I read the new one.

Cats the (broadway) musical. Me and my little sister watched the movie version of this show over and over again, every time focused on a different cat. We knew all the lyrics, we knew all the cats. We knew every little thing there was of them to know. We named our black cat (we ..I demanded a black cat) Misty, for Mistyfollees (she’s a girl you see, so we couldn’t name her Mistofollees). I even wrote some fic for it, haha.

(note: I tried really hard to find another GIF but there’s none) Elfquest, oooh Elfquest. This was my truest and biggest obsession, I think. I created my own elf characters, joined online RPG forums to write stories about our own characters, met up with other fans, dressed like a favorite character. A lot of the friends I have now, I met at those forums. I’m still low-key trying to collect the better-looking English paperbacks of the series, but am in no hurry to finish it, and don’t really read them anymore anyway. And my ship? Skywise/anyone, haha. I love Skywise so damn much. And his and Cutter’s relationship is everything (who’s Leetah? Fuck Leetah).

Tagging @stormnyk​ @andavs​  (I tagged you already anyway, sorry ;p) @imperfectimpostor96​

[mf-despair-queen]

Rewrite the Stars - Dylan O’Brien

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 20,243

Summary: He loved her. She loved him. But could they go against the odds to be together? Maybe not. Dylan fights to love the girl of his dreams while she pushes hi away over and over because of his fans.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Unprotected Sex, Oral (both receiving), Feeling, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Cowgirl, Shower Sex, Side Sex, Kinda Angsty, The TDC Accident 

Song: Rewrite The Stars from The Greatest Showman

Notes: o3o

The twelve-year-old boy sat on the porch steps of their new house, taking a deep breath of the west coast air. The house was still stuffy, boxes lining the floors to the ceiling and making it hard to maneuver. The sun was barely beginning to set, making the sky a a swirl of pinks, oranges and blues with specks of white clouds here and there. The chocolate-haired male could hear his older sister and parents moving about inside, relishing in a short moment away to breathe the fresh air.

The move was stressful and he didn’t know what the future would hold for him. It was nice to get away from the confinement of the unpacked home for a few minutes.

“Hey,” the Jersey boy heard, the soft crunch of wet grass making his head turn. You were stood before him, rolling back and forth on the balls of your feet with your hands hidden behind your back. Your hair was braided to stay out of your face. The boy’s hazel eyes skimmed your form quickly, noting the denim shorts with stars on your legs and the worn Spiderman shirt you swam in without a care for your appearance. You looked comfortable and that made him smile slightly with a light blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Hi,” he said shyly. The east coast preteen was always awkward, especially with first encounters.

“Sorry. I live next door with my mom and sister. My mom asked me to bring these over,” you said, revealing the plate of chocolate chip cookies you had behind your back. “We made them earlier knowing you were moving in today!”

“Oh. That’s so sweet. You really didn’t have to. But, thank you,” he said, standing to take the plate. Your arms fell to your side, Dylan holding the sweet treats in one hand. He bit his lip softly before extending his free hand to you. “I’m Dylan, by the way. Dylan O’Brien.”

You smiled, taking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Dylan. I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he hummed happily, glancing to his bouncing feet. “I um… I love your shirt. Spiderman is the best, isn’t he?”

“He really is!” you mused, pulling at the shirt to show it off more. “I got it when the movie first came out last year.”

“That’s awesome,” Dylan smiled.

“Hey,” you started. Dylan’s eyes met yours, seeing the glimmer in your orbs. “Seriously, welcome to Hermosa Beach. I hope you like it here.”

“I think I will love it,” he said without realizing it. You smiled, the curl of your lips making his soft pink ones perk up.

“You know, with you being new and all, you need a friend. We can’t let you deal with things alone and since I am the first person to meet you,” you chimed. “You are my new best friend!”

Dylan chuckled at the declaration, nodding. “I would actually like that. I can’t say no to friendship.” You grinned, tilting your head to the side in delight.

“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Dyl.”

♪You know I want you/ It's not a secret I try to hide/ I know you want me/ So don't keep saying our hands are tied/ You claim it's not in the cards/ Fate is pulling you miles away/ And out of reach from me/ But you're here in my heart/ So who can stop me if I decide/ That you're my destiny?♪

The door of the apartment opened, Dylan rolling his suitcase into the hallway. His pillow that was always carried with him when he traveled was promptly placed on top of the rectangular luggage, the ends of the blue sheet draping over his bag. His backpack was dropped with a clunk in the corner while he kicked lazily at the door. He placed his keys in the dish on the table to his right, kicking off his shoes. The door clicked shut behind him with more more nudge of a socked foot, the tired man trudging forward, suitcase left forgotten by the door. He stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning on the door frame to watch your smaller form dancing to a One Direction song he adored. A pot boiled on the stove with a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese beside it. You wore one of his old Mets shirts and some short pajama bottoms, uncaring that you looked ridiculous at the moment.

The sight made Dylan’s heart lift, thudding unevenly.

You spun on your heel, jumping with a squeak when you saw the man in your kitchen. The brunette chuckled, moving to sit at the dining table. You feigned relief, placing a hand to your chest. “You scared the pants off of me, O’Brien!” You scolded, turning down the music.

“Sorry. Thought i’d just let myself in,” he laughed.

“Why did I decide to give you a key to my apartment again?” You pondered rhetorically, turning to the creamy pasta you were making.

“Because you love me,” he joked. “Why are you making mac and cheese at midnight?”

“I was hungry. So sue me, bitch,” you giggled. “You want some?”

“You know I do,” Dylan laughed.

You moved to grab the bowls, standing on your toes in an attempt to reach them. Dylan rolled his eyes when you failed, moving to stand behind you. He grabbed them with ease, placing them on the counter. A grunt of annoyance left your lips, turning to lean on the counter, Dylan still by your side.

“Don’t get me wrong, Dyl. I love seeing you, though not really at midnight. But, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I just got back filming-”

“I know,” you cut him off. “You told me you were coming home today, but I didn’t expect you to stop by till tomorrow. I just figured…”

“Figured what?” he asked.

You moved to finish the food, leaving Dylan to lean against the counter alone. “Well, I just figured the first person you would go see would be your girlfriend, Dyl. You and Britt haven’t been together for a while. I thought you’d see Britt once you got home, late or not, stead of sitting in my kitchen eating cheese.” You got no response. When you turned, he had a slight sour look on his face. “Oh no. You’re making a face.”

“I am not,” he protested.

“Dylan, I have known you for over ten years! I know when you are making a face!”

“I’m not making a face!”

“Yes, you are!” You growled, dropping the wooden spoon and going to pinch his cheeks. He grimaced in slight pain, trying to swat at your hands. “No! Spill already, you turd!”

“I’m not making a face!”

“Dylan!”

“Fine, fine!” he yelped. The man rubbed his cheeks when you released them, mumbling indecent things under his breath. His nose flared with his heavy breathing, a hand ruffling his locks slightly. “Britt and I broke up.”

“What?!” You screeched. Dylan winced at the noise, covering his ears. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that. That was the last thing I expected to hear from your mouth. You guys were so cute and happy.”

“Yeah…” He murmured.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Dyl,” you frowned. “Three years isn’t easy to just push away.”

The man shrugged, licking his lips slowly. “It’s fine. It was a clean break luckily. When she came to visit while I was filming Deepwater in Louisiana, we had a long talk about it all and she mentioned how she has been developing feelings for this guy she’s going to be working with on this movie called A Dog’s Purpose. They’ve been spending a lot of time together and I’m happy for her. She agreed that the passion wasn’t there anymore. There hasn’t been any real passion for a while. I think we were together for the sake of being together. So, here we are now.”

Your face contorted into one of confusion. Your brow had knit and your forehead wrinkled together, eyes crossing to narrow in on him. His hazel eyes were focused on the ground, avoiding your gaze. But, he could feel it piercing the side of his head. It was obvious you weren’t fully understanding. “I don’t get it,” you voiced. “Why wasn’t the passion there anymore?”

Dylan pursed his lips. You sighed, turning to the food. Before the bowls could be filled, heat met your side. A large, muscled body stood beside you, the subtle scent of the Calvin Klein cologne infiltrating your senses. You glanced up at your best friend, noting the glint in his eyes of unexplainable emotion. Biting at your lip, you waited for him to speak.

“You already know why,” he whispered, your ears barely able to catch his quiet words. A shiver ran up your spine when his fingers skimmed across your arms, feeling the goosebumps that formed. “Don’t give me that confused look, Y/N.”

You didn’t have to respond. You knew what he was implying.

A long, long time ago, there was a possibility for you and Dylan to become an item. The Jersey boy you befriended at the tender age of twelve made it obvious that he had a crush on you. He told you flat out that he did. When you were perched on your bed one night, Dylan didn’t hesitate on spilling the crush he held for years in order to ask you to prom your senior year.

And naturally, you did accept his proposal, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers together. By the end of the prom night, you were spilling your own feelings for him, confessing to the crush you had since you started high school.

Unfortunately, you weren’t given much of an opportunity to pursue a relationship. Dylan was cast in the MTV series Teen Wolf that was filming in Atlanta. After a long, hard talk, you had agreed to letting things go, knowing that trying to maintain a relationship long distance would difficult. It wasn’t easy by any means, your heart crumbling from the tears your shed together. You knew it hurt him too because all he wanted was to be by your side.

When Dylan called and said he was dating Britt years ago, you supported him. You figured that he was finally moving on, getting past the high school feelings he once held for you. That was ok though. He was a big boy. He was an adult and could feel whatever he wanted for someone. He could date who he wished. But, your feelings never left. The entire time he was way filming, growing into an even more handsome young man than he was when he graduated high school, your crush on him remained. When he was off the market, you wished you could be with him. They grew like a fungus inside you, thin vines wrapping around your heart to hold it tight in his embrace. But, no matter what, you would be by his side, cheering him on. And maybe, just maybe, he would be yours one day. If not, you would move on.

You just wanted him in your life. He meant the world to you.

“Oh,” you mumbled, spooning the food into the bowls. Dylan silently took his from your hands, both of you moving to sit at the table with drinks in hand - Dr. Pepper for you and Root Beer for him. Sitting across from one another, the only thing that could be heard was the clink of the spoons hitting the bowls, cans of soda popping open to be sipped with occasional slurps. The tension was palpable, neither of you knowing what to say immediately.

The bowl across from you was pushed away, Dylan leaning on the table. He massaged his jaw before speaking up. “Can I take you out sometime?”

Your spoon fell with a clatter, your eyes wide at him. “W-what?”

“Sorry. That was rude of me,” he grumbled. He tousled his hair more until it was sticking upright. “I… God, this was easier in my head.”

“Just say it, Dyl,” you told him hesitantly. “You can say anything to me. You know that.”

“I know. I just…” he paused. “I’m nervous.”

“I can tell,” you joked, making him smile.

He took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling. “I-I want to take you on a date. And I know it sounds crazy, Y/N. But that crush from years ago? It never left. And, now that I’m not with Britt, I’m ready to… to try and make things work between us. I’ve waited for so long to ask you out. To date you. To do anything with you that could let me be with you in ways I’ve only dreamt of. I know it’s been a long time and we didn’t get to really embrace those feelings before, but now we can if you still want to try. Teen Wolf is filming in LA now, so I will only be gone for filming. We don’t have the same problems as before. I’m here to stay and I want to take you out to show you that we can work.”

Pushing your own bowl away, you leaned forward on the table, biting at your nail. Your eyes didn’t leave the face of your crush, tracing patterns along his speckled cheeks as your thought to yourself. It wasn’t a question that Dylan was, in deed, popular. He was the complete package: smart, funny, attractive, and the most genuine personality there was. He was the most caring person you would ever meet. It was no wonder that his was a breakout star once he started acting, especially with the ladies. The second Stiles Stilinski appeared on the screen upside down from the rooftop, he had won the hearts of many.

Over the years, he had become, in simple terms, a chick magnet. Despite being openly taken and in a relationship, girls swooned over the large, brown doe eyes and charming lopsided smile. They were ready to drop their panties when he let out his normal little laughs that made your heart beat faster and the hand his large, veiny hand would run through the luscious locks on his head. Millions of people proclaimed their love for the man across from you, the same man you grew up with and admired for so long.

You saw the pleading gaze in his eyes, hope and worry painting together in the hazel irises. His body bounced, leading you to believe his knee was jumping up and down anxiously. Slender fingers played together, his lips pursed together tightly as he waited. The look of longing made your heart beat rapidly. His body had sunk into the chair, his biceps bulging from under his loose black shirt. Your bottom lip was tugged between your teeth, your eyes darting away to avoid his look.  

“I don’t know, Dyl,” you started hesitantly. “You’re just a wee bit famous, handsome. Your fans…”

“What about them?” he snapped sharply before relaxing. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed. “Just, they like you so much, Dyl. They’re not always… supportive of your relationships. They love you so much, but they can be possessive. Britt got a lot of bad rap for being your girlfriend. How do you think they will respond with me? I’m just the girl you grew up with. I don’t want to be ostracized for liking you. I… I don’t want them to hate me because of this.”

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N,” he lowly stated. The squeak of the chair against the tile creaked through the cold apartment air, the light patter of footsteps inching towards you. You yelped in surprise when the chair you were in was forcibly turned, the actor crouching to the ground in front of you. His larger hands took yours, warmth radiated from his palms up your skin. Yet, you felt chills, dots poking from your arms. His thumbs smoothed over the tops of your hands, bringing them up to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles.

“Dyl…”

“I like you, Y/N. A lot. I always have and you know this. I want you. I need you. I’m not doing anything to hide my feelings from you or anyone. I’d be surprised if everyone didn’t know how much I liked you. If I know you the way I think I do, you want me too. Before I became an actor, you liked me back. And I’m willing to bet that if my feelings never went away, yours didn’t either.

“So, don’t give me this bullshit that the fans won’t accept you. If they are true fans of mine, they will accept my happiness. No one makes me happier than you do. You bring out the best in me. I can’t imagine someone more perfect than you to be by my side. I want to kiss you. I want to hug you in more than a friend way. I want to go out and hold your hand while we walk. I want to take you out on dates. I have told you for so long how I’ve felt and now, nothing is going to stop me from choosing the girl of my dreams. I was stupid to let you go once and I’m not letting it happen again.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m famous, cupcake.” You smiled at the nickname, making him smile slightly in return. “Fame doesn’t define me. It doesn’t define you. I am still the same Dyldo you have known for over ten years. No amount of fame can change that. My fans aren’t going to change my mind about you. No one can stop me if I decide I like you. And, they sure as hell can’t keep me from saying this. I like you, Y/N, a hell of a lot and I want to be your boyfriend. But, until you are ready, I will settle on dates. We will go at your pace.

“But, if you don’t like me anymore and I’m completely wrong, I respect that. I won’t push you. You can tell me that I need to shut up and get out if that’s what you want. But, I’m begging, cupcake. Please, please, let me take you on one date. I will grovel at your feet. I will draw you a hot bath for the next month. I will buy you your favorite smoothie from Jamba Juice. I will buy us a pizza and we can watch whatever movie you want. Just, please, let me take you out.”

A dead silence came from his passionate speech. His eyes bore into you, trying to read the expression on your face. His palms were sweating and his mouth felt dry. It felt impossible, a heavy pit sitting in his stomach. His breath hitched, however, when you leaned forward, resting your forehead to his. Your lips were near his, a space keeping them apart like an invisible wall. His breath his your face, warming it until your cheeks were read. Fingers laced together, the intimacy of the moment growing more vibrant. Your eyes closed, relishing in the bubble that eclipsed your bodies and souls.

“Alright,” you whispered.

“Alright?” He asked, not daring to look.

“Dylan, I like you. You’re not going crazy. My feelings for you never left. And yes, I’m scared. I’m afraid of what people will think. It’s easy to say it’s just me and you, but I don’t want people to hate me because of this.” Your eyes fluttered open, the tickle of your eyelashes on his skin making his open in return. “But, I want to try.”

“So, what does this mean?”

You laughed shaking your head. “Sometimes, I wonder what goes on in that head of yours.”

“That’s just mean,” he teased.

“It means yes. You can take me on a date.”

“Seriously?” He asked, backing away to see you nod fully. His lips curled into a deep grin, the man launching forward to lock you in a tight embrace, his head burrowed in your chest. Your face flared, but you didn’t push him away. “You won’t regret this! I promise. It will be the best date ever.”

“It better be,” you teased. Wiggling from his grip, you placed the bowls in the sink. “Now, I’m assuming you are staying the night since it’s late and you just got home from a flight.”

The man stood from the ground, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. The single action made his shirt ride up to show the dark happy trail of hair along his toned stomach and the v-lines that were prominently sunk into his hips and displayed from the low hung gray sweatpants. He attempted to muffle a yawn, failing miserably. A yeti-esque growl escaped his throat, mouth parted in a large O shape. His teeth twinkle brightly with a lazy smile.

“I guess I should stay,” he murmured, words beginning to slur. The exhaustion was hitting him like a hammer. His arms wrapped around your waist, burying into your neck. “Can we cuddle?”

You blushed, but nodded with a giggle. “Of course.” You always cuddled together, even when you weren’t together. It was just a perk of being long time friends with the O’Brien male. “Let’s go grab your pillow and get some well deserved sleep.”

“Alright,” he yawned again, reluctantly moving forward when you did. He was snoring before he hit the bed, face swallowed by the blue linen he carried with him on every trip. Luckily, he had managed to strip from his shirt before he collapsed, the cotton still hanging from his fingers on the hand that dangled over the side of the bed. You shook your head at him, tossing it aside. The lights clicked off quietly, your body curling into his back after the blankets were tugged up to your chin.

“Goodnight, Dyl.”

He was gone when you woke up, a note on the dining room table with a vase full of red roses. You sat down at the table, stroking the petals, feeling the silky texture they offered. The note made you smile, tucking your hair back.

Hey beautiful. Thank you for accepting. You have no idea how excited I am. I hope it’s not too soon, but I wanted to take you out tonight. Seven pm, sharp! I will be there to pick you up. Dress comfy, casual and cute, even though you are always adorable. I will see you see, cupcake. <3

The day flew by after that. At seven, you were slipping out the front door, locking it before hurrying to Dylan’s waiting car. He was playing your favorite song when you slid inside, buckling your seatbelt. His hand took yours, fingers linking together and resting on the center console. The man wouldn’t spill where you were going or what you were doing, making you wonder what he was planning.

Mid Los Angeles came into view, the lights glimmering around you. The streets were flooded with people taking pictures and pointing at the sites to be seen. You were nervous going into a large crowd like this. It was easier to be seen and potentially interrupted while you were out trying to enjoy a date. Dylan dismissed the suspicious glance sent his way, his eyes stuck on the road. His grin made you wonder more, trying to discern what he was planning.

The car came to a stop outside Grand Park, the engine humming to a quiet stop. You blinked at your surroundings, hearing Dylan’s door open and close. The man jogged around the car to your side, opening the door and holding a hand out for you. You laughed, taking his hand, allowing him to gently pull you out. The beep of the alarm floated around you, Dylan’s hand on the small of your back as you walked into the nearly empty park. Your bodies remained close together, the actor leading you to some unknown destination.

“What we we doing at a park?” you asked, Dylan smiling wider. “Come on, Dyl! Spill!”

“You know, a long time ago, you told me that you thought picnics in the park were super romantic. So, I worked my ass off all day to put together the perfect picnic for you. Posey was kind enough to set it up while I went to get you.”

Your mouth parted to answer, no words coming out. You stopped walking, seeing the cliche checkered blanket with a picnic basket on top of it. A small stool was set up next to it, a few candles lit and flickering in the slight breeze. A speaker was set in the grass, Dylan tinkering with his phone to play a sweet ballad to add to the atmosphere. He spun to face you, allowing you to take in his full appearance. Dark jeans and a blue button up that was tucked neatly into his pants. He didn’t detour from his natural Adidas and his hair was partially spiked up in a cute quiff.

“Milady,” he called to break you from your trance, holding out a hand to you. A giggle left your lips, taking his hand. You planted yourselves on the blanket, Dylan pulling out some simple sandwiches and bags of chips.

The meal was simple, but fun. You shared the chips, feeding them to each other. Dylan was sprawled on his side, resting on his elbow, while you leaned back against him. His free hand roamed your back, soothing you. At one point, your hand found his, hands entwined together. You shared multiple longing looks, sinking into his touch when he would push back your hair. Hearts hammered against your chests, smiles showing off the joy you felt. You were content, not once regretting the decision to accept his proposal.

If anything, you were falling more for the man because he never failed to make you happy. He put you first and did everything in his power to make you smile. You didn’t deserve his kind heart, but you weren’t going to let him go because he made you feel complete.

And Dylan? Well, he was thunderstruck by your beauty and laugh, the happy flutter of butterflies making his blood pump yet make his heart stop. He was sure of his feelings.

When a new slow song started, he pulled you up, ignoring your laughs when he made you dance. His hands rested on your waist, your arms slung around his neck as you swayed. The skirt of your summer dress flowed with every step you took, each beat of the song spiking your infatuation with the man. He stared down at you lovingly, eyes large and speckled cheeks hurting from the countless smiles. His touch burned - in a good way - that left you smoldering, wanting more. In the end, your head was resting on his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head.

The candles were blown out and things were thrown into the empty picnic basket. With a hand on your back once more, you walked around the park for a bit, enjoying the sights from the summer festival that was being held during the day. Your head leaned on his shoulder the entire time, Dylan giving gentle squeezes to your side. The hustle and bustle of the city seemed quiet because it was all about you and Dylan.

The date didn’t end there. Dylan took the time to drive you out to Hermosa Beach, the home you grew up in. The beach was lifeless. The waves lapped at the sand, glowing from the full moon in the sky. The stars twinkled in the dark sky, smiling down at you. Kicking off your shoes, you made your way down to the shoreline, letting the foam wash around your ankles. The sand crabs tickled at your feet, trying to escape to find a new home that wasn’t under the weight of your body

His arms wrapped around your waist, not caring that his jeans were getting wet when the ocean attacked. You relaxed in his grip, resting your hands over his on your stomach. His chin sat on your shoulder, wafting the smell of the salt water and your strawberry shampoo. Neither of you had to speak. You just enjoyed the moment before continuing on.

You walked up and down the beach, the backs of your hands brushing occasionally. It took a bit before he dared to flex his fingers out, brushing them more. He glanced over at you and you looked back at him, trying to let him take the leap without needing to ask permission. Softly, his hand slid into yours, fingers tangling together one by one. Your arms rubbed against one another, keeping close as you waded through the shallow waters together, holding hands for the rest of the night.

You were on cloud nine now, wishing for a second this moment would never end.

The clock ticked on, nearly one in the morning before you were being walked to your door. Dylan, being the gentleman he was, insisted he make sure you got in safely. When the door came into sight, you turned to him, twirling some hair around your fingers.

“This really was the best date, Dyl,” you told him, giving a bright smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “I can’t recall a better date honestly.”

“Same.”

He rubbed his lips together, wetting them with his tongue. “Maybe we can do this again. I mean, if you’d like that.”

“I would love a second date with you, Dylan,” you whispered.

He smiled before taking a dive, leaning in to plant his lips to yours. You swore the fireworks were erupting loudly around you, bound to wake the neighbors from the nonexistent explosions. The touch was tender, his pink lips perfectly soft against yours. His lips enveloped yours, his head tilting to the side to give him better room to kiss at you. Short lived, he pulled away with a subtle smack, tucking your hair back like he always did. Your eyes stayed shut, lips still puckered from the surprise connection.

“Goodnight,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear.

His touch vanished, the man gone from the hall before your eyes could open. It was almost as if everything was an illusion, Dylan being nothing more than a figment of your imagination. But the tingle on your lis ensured you of the truth. With an everlasting grin on your face, you slipped into your apartment, pressing your back to the door. Your face hid in your hands, happy squeals filling the hallway.

There was a bounce in your step while getting ready for bed, curling into your blankets happily. Your face brightened at the text from Dylan on your screen, his ugly mug in his contact picture winking at you.

[Dyldo: Sleep tight, beautiful. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.]

You sent him a quick goodnight before turning to your social media.

That’s when your mood dimmed.

Pictures of your date were out on twitter, news articles already popping up questioning what was going on. Dylan hadn’t formally announced his break up, but that wasn’t the only issue going on. The pictures showed your dance in the park, the picnic your shared, Dylan’s hand on your back and your hands linked while walking down the beach. In some pictures, you could make out the loving expressions you held for one another. All of the news articles questioned who you were and what you were doing with him.

The comments made bile rise in your throat. You were ready to puke while reading them. Most were negative. People were insistent on claiming them as his own while others were pushing for answers, typing in all caps to express their disconcert. You couldn’t count how many people said you didn’t look good together, saying how Dylan could do better. There were the normal ‘I love you’s’ that floated around, but your heart sunk into a vat of acid when you saw the comments about you.

You could feel his millions of fans scorning you, judging you based on looks or biased assumptions. Comment after comment, they called you names and picked on every aspect of you. They said how you should leave Dylan alone.

Tears slid down your cheeks as your fell asleep, phone laid on the bed by your side. The one comment that broke your heart the most shone onto the roof, the letters bolded and imprinted into your mind.

SLUT

♪What if we rewrite the stars?/ Say you were made to be mine/ Nothing could keep us apart/ You'd be the one I was meant to find/ It's up to you, and it's up to me/ No one can say what we get to be/ So why don't we rewrite the stars?/ Maybe the world could be ours/ Tonight♪

~

♪You think it's easy/ You think I don't want to run to you/ But there are mountains/ And there are doors that we can't walk through/ I know you're wondering why/ Because we're able to be/ Just you and me/ Within these walls/ But when we go outside/ You're going to wake up and see that it was hopeless after all♪

You did everything you could to ignore the things people said. The thing that mattered was you and your feelings for Dylan.

Months passed and all you did was spend time with Dylan while he was out of work. And times were beyond exceptional. They were one of a kind and you didn’t want to trade them for anything. Whenever you were together, you mood lifted, finding new adventures to go on with the man. And every day that passed, you feel more and more in love with him. Things were slow to develop, but not slow enough to make you lose interest.

He hadn’t officially asked you out, but it felt like you were a couple. He would text you good morning and good night, buy you little gifts when you least expected it, and make you meals. Well, you often made the meals together. The kissing increased since he kissed you goodnight, the feeling of his lips on yours like an addicting drug. You couldn’t get enough of them, finding yourself locked in a heated make out session on the couch or in his bed.

The bedroom was even more heated than the kisses you shared. Despite the lack of a formal title overhanging your relationship, it didn’t stop you from exploring the deeper side of things. And boy, did he make you feel good. Occasionally, when you would relax in bed together under the covers, his hand would sneak into your shorts, toying with your wet core as he kissed you passionately. Other times, your hand would slither into his sweatpants, stroking his hardened length. Hands would swap for mouths once in a while, pleasing the opposite party with the flick of a tongue, but things never went beyond that.

Dylan knew about the hate you were facing from his fans, but he chose to ignore it. He constantly told you to ignore it as well since. ‘It’s not their choice, it’s ours,’ and ‘It’s our relationship. I choose to be with you’ is what he told you day after day. He offered to make a post about it on his Twitter, but you declined, not wanting to make things worse. If people read that, they would only come after you harder, claiming you made him post that.

He held true to his word that he would wait until you were ready to take things further, but he was blatantly obvious that he liked you way beyond a natural level. He wanted to make things work desperately, and you were willing to try equally as hard. Fighting to overlook the comments people made, you focused on him.

You liked him a hell of a lot.

You shut Dylan’s door behind you, hanging up your jacket and kicking off your boots. Skipping towards the kitchen, you found Dylan prepping the chicken parm you were going to make together. Because of the constant attention that surfaced when you were found out together, on a date or otherwise, you agreed to have dates in together, spending time cooking and watching movies. Dylan only wanted your comfort, so he tried to do anything to make sure you were happy.

“Hey, baby,” he hummed, hugging you into his side when you skid to a stop. You shared a brief kiss, the connection lasting longer than you thought would happen. “Ready for a delicious dinner?”

“Of course,” you grinned. “I love your mom’s chicken parm.”

“Her recipe is the best.”

“And she taught you well,” you hummed, pecking his lips a couple times. He whined when you backed away.

“You’re mean,” he cried, watching you hover at the sink to wash your hands. He grabbed his classic ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron you got him as a joke when you started cooking together after leaving high school, tossing it over his head. “You can’t just kiss me like that.”

“Why not?” you teased, tying the apron for him. Once perfectly knotted with a bow, he turned in your grasp, tugging you closer by the waist.

“Because it only makes me want to kiss you more,” he whispered. His eyes ran up and down your body, biting at his lip. “You’re beautiful. I hope you know that. You drive me insane.”

“And you’re handsome,” you told him, cupping his face.

You brought his face to yours, kissing him again. This time, it was longer and sweeter, your body melting into his chest. His arms hugged you close, moving his lips against yours skillfully. They dragged downwards, sending shivers up your spine. The bliss of his lips on yours made your fingers curl against his stubbled chin, letting the prickles tickle the tips.Your noses bumped slightly, the passion hovering around you.

He backed away, letting out a shallow breath. “You know, we can just skip making dinner and continue this,” he pushed playfully.

You laughed, shaking your head. “No. I have been looking forward to this all day so I haven’t exactly eaten. Unless you want me to drop kick you, I suggest we cook.”

“You seriously fasted just for my mom’s chicken parm recipe?” he teased.

“Duh.”

“God, you’re so cute,” he laughed, pecking your lips.

The kitchen turned into a natural disaster, a tornado of flour, mozzarella cheese and tomato sauce passing through. You got a face full of flour thanks to Dylan while breading the chicken cutlets, your skin a powder white from the cloudy burst. Your response was to toss a handful of cheese at him, the man trying to catch as much as possible in his mouth when you did. From your distraction, you didn’t realize the sauce was boiling, a pop of red sauce hitting his walls. In the end, you fell over laughing, cleaning while the food finished.

After the meal was finished and the dishes were cleaned, you had cuddled on the couch to watch Liar Liar, one of Dylan’s favorite movies. You snuggled into his chest, his arms wrapped around you with a blanket covering your tangled legs. Though, the film was quickly forgotten. Before Fetcher could skip out on his son’s birthday party, you turned to glance at the man playing with your hair, pressing your lips to his after a second.

That was how you found yourself in a heated make out session with your crush. His head was perfectly tilted to cover your lips completely while your hands slid up his neck and tangled in his silky hair. The kisses were fast paced and sloppy, but full of emotion. They were all open-mouth, tongues sinfully and willfully rubbing against one another in a swirl of saliva and bliss. Your leg was draped over his lap when your body had turned towards him. His hand running up and down your leg, drawing circles to your outer thigh. Your eyes were closed, relishing in the way his lavished your lips. With his other arm around your shoulders, he was able to keep you closer than ever, the kiss never ending.

The hand on your thigh dared to move up a bit further, running over your behind that had lifted off of the couch. The shock of it made you shiver, a moan lost in his mouth. Dylan moaned in return, giving it a firm squeeze before daring to move a tad bit further. But, the squeeze made you stop. Flashes of criticizing words you had been haunted by for months appeared in the darkness of your closed eyelids, the murmurs of his fans when you were out and about ringing in your ears. Their glares pierced your soul, being the final straw to make you break the kiss.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked huskily, trying to catching his breath. He frowned at the loss of warmth when you crawled off of him, moving away from the couch. He blinked multiple times, trying to clear the spotted vision that came from his arousal, his hand moving to adjust his erection in his sweats. His hazel eyes followed you as you paced his living room, a hand running through your hair. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” came your harsh words. Dylan felt his heart physically plummet at your words, his eyes narrowing on your form.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked harder than he meant to, only making you whimper at him.

“It’s just…”

“Babe, we’ve been like this for months now. You’ve never had an issue when I’ve kissed you before,” Dylan told with a hard tone. “So, why now are you doubting it? Has this just been a game to you? Because I sure as hell like you a lot and I’ve been waiting for you to be ready for us to be official. I haven’t pushed because I want you to be comfortable with the idea of us.”

“Dyl…”

“Just tell me why, Y/N,” he pushed. “Why don’t you want to be with me? Are you playing with my emotions? Because I know that’s not you. I’m so freaking sure you like me back and now I’m really confused because things have been so great. I love kissing you and you come on so strong. You kiss me as much as I kiss you.” He ruffled his hair with a loud, distressed groan that filled the apartment. The noise made you cringe, hearing his voice strain from the rippling yell. “I don’t get it. Why?”

“We can’t do this,” you repeated, trying to be firm. “They just… they don’t want this.”

“They?” he asked. “Are you talking about my fans?”

“Yes!”

“Babe, are you still letting their words get to you?” he asked sadly. Dylan moved from the couch, pulling you into his arms. “Remember, they don’t define our relationship. It’s our choice if we want to be together. So, why are you letting their words get to you.”

“I’m scared,” you sniffled. “I don’t want to be hated for loving you.”

Dylan’s heart dropped at the classic ‘L’ word, rubbing his lips together. “They won’t,” he whispered.

“Yes, they will!” You yelled louder than you wanted to.

“Why do you care what they think?” he pushed.

“They’re your fans, Dyl. You’re famous. You’re talented. People look up to you and when they see you with me…” You stopped, shaking your head. “You’ve never had someone look at you the way they look at me. They hate it, Dyl.”

“So what?” He asked again. “It doesn’t matter what they want. It’s about what I want. What we want.”

“You think it’s so easy, Dylan!” You cried, banging on his chest slightly. "It's easy to be like this in the confines of your house, Dyl. But out there, I'm a nobody compared to you.”

“So are they!” He yelled. “Y/N, they are just fans of mine. They are selfish, alright? People are delusional all of the time. All they ever say is how they love me. All they do is ask for pictures and autographs without the simplest of introductions. But you, you’re not like that. You are my best friend. You are the girl I have feelings for. You are the girl I want to date. You are the girl I want to be with for the rest of my life for fuck’s sake!”

“Dylan, you just don’t get it,” you cried. “The way they would look at us. The way everyone would look at us. I’m scared to be with you because they don’t want us to be together. I don’t want to live the rest of my life being the girl that is with Dylan O’Brien that doesn’t deserve it. They should be happy about this, but they aren’t. When it’s just us, it’s perfect. You make me so happy, I can’t believe how much my cheeks hurt when I go to sleep at night. But when we go outside, you’ll realize how worthless this is. How worthless I am. I don’t want to hinder you or your career because your fans want to think we aren’t right for each other.”

“Babe, we can make this work,” he tried to say, only getting pushed away.

“Just don’t, Dyl,” you cried. Dylan’s heart cracked at the sight of your tears running down your cheeks, hands shaking when he took a step forward to wipe them away. “Please, just don’t.”

“Babe, it doesn’t have to be like this,” he whispered.

“We can’t be together. You’re an actor, Dylan. You will always be in the spotlight, no matter what you do or where you go. You have fans and I’m not going to ruin your career like this. This is your life and I hate to say it, but it’s not up to you. It’s not up to me. This isn’t possible when everyone tells us who we can be or who we can be with. I want to be with you, Dylan. I want to be with you so bad. But, I wasn’t the one you were meant to be with.”

“Please, don’t do this,” he whispered, voice cracking with the inevitable tears he was going to shed. “W-we can do something to make this work. If I want you and you want me, then it’s possible, Y/N. You can’t let them get to you. Just, please, don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, Dyl. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be that perfect girl that everyone is happy you are with. I’m sorry I can’t make you happy. I’m sorry I’m not good enough.” You wiped at your tears, rushing to the door. “I’m sorry you had to fall for me.”

“Y/N, no. Wait, please. I-”

You slid on your shoes, the tears dripping off your chin when you turned back to him. “There is nothing that can change our fate, Dylan. They won’t accept us, so it’s better if I let you go before things get worse.”

You ran out the door with it slamming closed behind you before Dylan would move forward to stop you. Your figure was gone from his cloudy view, the tears no longer able to be stopped. His hand trembled before dropping from its outreached position, going limp at his side. It pained him to see you so distraught about this, holding back to appease everyone but yourself. He knew you were caring, but just once, he wanted you to be selfish. That compassion was causing you agony and all he wanted was for you to not worry about what everyone else thought.

It was supposed to be about you and him.

His words fell on deaf ears when he muttered the final words he wanted to express more than anything. “I love you, Y/N…”

♪No one can rewrite the stars/ How can you say you'll be mine?/ Everything keeps us apart/ And I'm not the one you were meant to find/ It's not up to you/ It's not up to me/ When everyone tells us what we can be/ How can we rewrite the stars?/ Say that the world can be ours/ Tonight♪

~

♪How do we rewrite the stars?/ Say you were made to be mine?/ Nothing can keep us apart/ 'Cause you are the one I was meant to find/ It's up to you/ And it's up to me/ No one can say what we get to be/ And why don't we rewrite the stars?/ Changing the world to be ours♪

It was early March in Los Angeles. The rain poured from the dark sky, the heavy drops pounding the ground in a steady beat. The pavement was blackened more than normal from the tears of the sky, people refusing to move about through the patter of droplets. Pellets tapped to your apartment windows, the splash of tired through the water outside somewhat sounding in your home. It poured much like your depressed emotions.

Another X over the day was placed in which you hadn’t seen nor spoke to Dylan. You avoided him like the plague. After your spat, you ignored his calls and refused to see him. And, it just broke your heart even more. Crying yourself to sleep every night was all you could do. Struggle with the feelings that would dissipate was what lumped in your gut. Wishing you could hear his voice whispering in your ear was what your dreamt about. Craving the feel of his arms around you was what you missed.

You were settled into bed, catching up on the latest episodes of some cooking show you loved, when you heard a knock at the door. The clock read some time after eleven, your eyes narrowing on it. “Who the fuck…?” You asked yourself. Who was knocking this late during a storm?

Moving to the door, you clicked on a light to see where you were going. Pushing up on your toes, you peered through the peephole at the late night visitor. You frowned, contemplating for a second that it was best to back away and ignore the person on the other side. But their second knock made you sigh. The lock clicked and the door cracked open to show Dylan’s form better. He was dripping wet, shivering slightly in the March chill. He stared down at his feet, Adidas squishing when he swapped his weight between feet. His hazel eyes looked void of emotion, the normal pop in his irises glazed over with sadness. His stubble had grown out more, framing his chiseled jawline that looked somewhat thinner than you were used to. He was paler, having lost the joy he normally had.

“Dylan,” you breathed. His eyes met yours, mouth opening to say nothing. He remained still, shaking from the wet clothes that clung to his toned body and muscles arms. “Why are you here? And, why are you all wet?”

“I just,” he started, teeth chattering slightly. He shook his head to clear his mind, water flying off the wet tips of his hair. “I had to clear things up. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you and talked to you. Ever since that night when we argued about everything, you haven’t answered my called and I haven’t seen you. I couldn’t leave things like this before I head to Vancouver.”

“Oh,” you whispered. He mentioned once that he was going to film The Death Cure, but you didn’t realize it was so close since you hadn’t talked to him since that night. “So, why are you all wet?”

“Well, I kind of drove over and um,” he breathed, rubbing his lips together. “I guess I hesitated. I had to contemplate what I was doing to say when I got up here. I figured if I didn’t already have some kind of speech ready that you would just shut me out again.”

“So you stood in the rain?” you asked.

Dylan smiled slightly, nodding. “I guess so,” he laughed before his face went back to being serious. “Listen. Everything that happened… I get it. I know being with me isn’t easy. The fame… it’s not easy to deal with and sometimes, I wish I didn’t have it. But, I can’t help that I like you. Most of all, I can’t help that you mean so much to me, friend or girlfriend or whatever. I didn’t want this to ruin our friendship, Y/N. I can’t lose my best friend. You mean too much to me to lose. I wish you wouldn’t worry about my fans, but I’m not here to talk about that. I came… I came to talk to you before I leave. I can’t work knowing we are upset like this. I want my girl back.”

You frowned at him. Your heart was pumping, staring at the solemn man. You liked this man so much and the fame made it impossible to be with him the way you wanted. But, he was still your friend and pushing him away was just doing more harm than good. He had come all this way before leaving for filming to amend things between you both because he, too, didn’t want to lose the friendship you held for so long.

“Come in please,” you told him, opening the door wider. He sent you a confused look. “You’re soaking wet, Dylan. You’re going to get sick if you don’t come in right now and get out of those wet clothes. We will run you a hot shower and we will dry the clothes.”

“Alright,” he mumbled, moving inside with you. The door was locked before you dragged him into the bathroom in your room, sitting him down on the toilet. You grabbed a towel from the rack, Dylan’s eyes following you. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

You sides, placing the towel on the counter. Your hand run through his wet hair, Dylan melting into your tender touch. “I wasn’t mad at you, Dyl,” you told him quietly. “I just…”

“I know,” he bemused sadly. “I get it’s hard. But it shouldn’t matter what people think. I wish you would accept that. They don’t define our relationship. We can make whatever we have work if we just try. No one can say what we are or what we have. It’s up to us what we want to be. But, if you aren’t comfortable, I get it. I just wish-”

“I know,” you sighed. “I know, Dyl. I wish too. I wish that we be together. I like you, Dylan. I always have and I always will. But,” you froze, shaking your head. “Can we not talk about this please?”

“Alright,” he agreed. The sadness was prominent in his voice. He took your hand, bringing it to his lips though, placing a light kiss to it. “I missed you, cupcake.”

“I missed you too, Dyldo,” you hummed, kissing his forehead.

His hand dropped, your hands moving to the bottom of his shirt. He didn’t fight it, lifting his arms so you could slowly pull the wet shirt over his head. When his head popped free from the opening, his hair bounced around happily. The cotton was carefully stripped off his arms, dropping in a wet clump beside the toilet. Your fingers ran down his shoulders and arms, across his chest. The way his muscles rippled made your fingers tingle, his arms tensing and releasing against the smooth touch. You silently admired how beautiful and handsome the man truly was, a picture of pure perfection sitting before you. You played with the hairs on his chest, resting your palm over his heart.

It was hammered against his ribs, skipping beats here and there.

He glanced up at you through his lashes, fluttering them occasionally. He took your hand from his chest, placing kisses to each of your fingertips before lacing your fingers together. You felt your stomach flutter anxiously, heart picking up speed like his. It was almost as if your argument never happened and you were reverting back to the romantic ways you shared before you left him alone. For a second, you though back to the times you shared and the happiness you felt when you were with him. But then, the reality of the situation poked its head out as a bitter reminder of what couldn’t be.

You pulled your hand back, backing towards the door. “I-I will go get you some clothes. Please, shower and get warm.”

You ran out before he could say anything, the door closing before you. You let out a shaky sigh, moving to grab some clothes from the drawer dedicated to him. Spare clothes were kept in case he would pass out in your bed, needing something to sleep in or wear to work the next day. Before returning, you sat on your bed with the clothes resting on your lap, folded neatly.

You thought back on his words, knowing how hard he was pushing to be with you; knowing how bad he wanted to be with you. You felt it too. You wanted nothing more than to call him your own. But the words people uttered behind your back kept you hesitant. You wanted nothing more than to be by his side but the fear made you tremble inside. Your eyes closed, seeing him behind them in all his glory. The image made your heart race, body craving more from him. You reminded yourself repeatedly that he was famous and the fans wouldn’t accept it, but he kept your spirits up, never pushing you to do more than you wanted. He hoped and prayed, sure, wishing you would accept him and only him, but he never wanted to lose you.

Was it truly that impossible to be with him? You started to wonder in that second.

Moving back to the bathroom, it was fogged up before you even slipped inside. Dylan’s figure could be made out behind the curtain, the shower running and falling over his body. The clothes were placed beside his towel, your backside leaning on the counter. You watched him move around, hearing the shampoo pop open so he could wash his hair. His shirtless torso came to mind again, your heartbeat picking up and your body beginning to burn. You wanted to run your fingers along it. Wishing he would run his along your body as well.

Is it impossible? You asked yourself, biting your lip. The pressure of his career and fandom weighed down heavily on you, the fear of acceptance like a cloud over your head. But the sunlight of his smile made you smile, the touch of his skin against yours intensifying the need to be with him. He was able to push away the fight and the anxiety, and you were reminded about how much he meant to you.

In a split decision, your clothes were shed, leaving you bare in the middle of the bathroom. You were scared that he was going to be alright with this and you were scared that this was the right decision. Everything was a whirl in your mind, everything around you not mattering when you pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the steaming hot shower with him. His back was to you, his face dripping with the water that showered over him. His head fell back to let the droplets slide across his skin, his perfectly round behind in plain sight. Your cheeks lit up, but you moved forward.

Your chest pressed to his back, your arms wrapping around his frame. Earning no verbal response, he took your hands in his, his head turning to the ground. You hid your face in his back, kissing it softly. Dylan was happy to feel you pressing into him, but he was confused. He knew where you sat with everything. He understood, despite how much he disagreed with it. And all he wanted was to be with you, no matter what. After everything that happened, the argument you had in his house, he wasn’t sure you would want to continue the potential relationship because of the things out of his control. He didn’t want the fans to make the choice, but they would always be something you would consider.

“What does this mean?” He asked quietly. His voice almost didn’t carry to your ears over the running shower, it was that low. Carefully, he turned in your grasp, his chest against yours. You looked up at him, seeing the whirl of emotions in his eyes. “What does this mean, Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you told him truthfully. He nodded. You were scared; there was no changing that. His fans were part of him and they made things difficult with the way they acted. But, you liked this man. A lot. And you didn’t want to let them change that. “I like you Dylan. A lot. Like, I never thought I’d like you as much as I do now. You are my best friend and I want nothing more than you to be by my side forever. And you know that. But, it feels impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” he whispered.

“Is it impossible?” you asked aloud. His hands cupped your cheeks while yours ran up and down his arms, letting the burn corrupt you. The fear was gone and replaced by him, the way he made you feel, and the love you felt for him. Everything felt impossible because of Dylan’s life because he seemed so out of reach. But, when it came to the two of you, none of that mattered. He was right there in your grasp, unmoving.

“Just say that it’s possible,” Dylan told you quietly.

With your face still in his large hands, he leaned down, placing a firmly soft kiss to your lips. It was sweet and screamed every emotion he felt. His lips enveloped yours, dragging down slowly. Your noses brushed and your foreheads collided tenderly. The kiss made your fingers curl into his arms, sinking into his hold completely.

And without hesitation, you returned the kiss.

Multiple sweet kisses were exchanged, the smack of lips on lps mixing with the rain of the shower. Some were open-mouth so his tongue could trace the innards of your mouth, running along your cheeks until he found the spots that made you moan, while others were just close lipped, smashing together like life depended on it. You were were clenched closed, enjoying the feeling of him in your arms.

His hands moved down from your face, skimming along your sides before cupping your ass instead. Your own hands smoothed against his chest, his pecs flexing under your palms. The kisses sped up slightly, not losing the sweetness that you enjoyed. His cock was twitching upright the more you kissed and pushed into him, trapped between your bodies.  When his hands moved back up your body, swapping from your butt to your breasts with a squeeze, you moaned into him.

His hands fondled at your breasts, thumbs passing over your hardened nipples. The touch made your shiver, moaning more with each passing second. His touch wasn’t hard, making you uncomfortable. It was just right: careful and delicate, almost as if you would break if he did too much. He moaned into the kisses you shared, gripping at your soft mounds desperately. The plump mounds under his finger tips made his mouth water and his mind race with a wild imagination.

His lips separated from yours, kisses lining your jaw until he settled into your neck. His hands left your chest and slid between your bodies. You whimpered when his hand brushed your core, not pushing inside without permission. Always kind, that man, not wanting to push boundaries if you didn’t want it. A sharp intake of air was heard when you answered his plea with your inaudible answer. Your hand joined him, grasping his large shaft in your hand. You stroked it casually, rubbing at the tip that was wet with more than water. The grip you had on him only made him groan louder, finally slipping his fingers inside you.

Together, you pleased the other. His fingers gently thrust into your core, tips curling to claw laviously at your tender walls and sweet spot. Your hand stroked his length, tugging bits of skin over the head before it was released to return to its normal position. Your bodies were flushed against one another, your head resting on his shoulder while his was hidden in your neck, sucking at it until it was red and spotted. The shower rained over your forms, droplets sliding down your skin to make you slick against each other.

He pulled his hand out of you, licking the digits clean while you were whining at the loss of heat. Your hand was pried off of him, your whines only growing louder. With an arm wrapped around your back, you were dipped backwards, his lips on yours in a steamy embrace. On instinct, one of your arms wrapped itself around his neck to keep you from falling backwards. The other hand rested to his chest, only making the entire embrace more romantic. To feel his soft, wet skin rippling under your fingertips while his lips lavished yours in hot, steamy kisses where your tongues twisted and twirled together was nothing but a dream you had multiple times.

You mewled into the kiss when he lifted your leg up to wrap around his waist, his moist shaft rubbing along your core. You were hot and you were aching, walls tensing with anticipation. But naturally, he didn’t do anything until he pulled back, giving you the questioning stare in the sultry brown eyes on his head. He wasn’t one to thrust without making sure you were ok with it first. He wanted you to want is as much as he did.

With a nod, he straightened himself, keeping your leg upright around him and a hand on the small of your bac. You hugged him close, wincing but moaning when he slid in completely, hilt deep in the blink of an eye. He kissed the stray tears that fell, knowing you were in pain from the lack of sex you had in the past. He was larger than most guys too, so taking every inch of his thick cock wasn’t an easy feat. You said nothing, letting yourself get accustomed to his length before bucking forward as a way to get him to move.

He pulled back, pushing back in swiftly just before the tip escaped your grasp. The sudden thrust into you made your head fall back with a loud moan, a hand threaded through his hair to give it a yank. His cock was buried deep inside you, the angle allowing his long shaft to find your sweet spot. The head tapped at it every time he pulled back, pounding into you repeatedly. Wet hips clapped together, skin on skin colliding together in heated slaps. The pistoning of his cock made you moan his name, Dylan’s ears bleeding joy. He had waited to hear you moan his name for so long.

You were quivering in his hold. His powerful, quick thrusts made your head spin and your stomach clench in flutters. His kisses made you hot and your cheeks flush. Your lips were plump and swollen from the multiple kisses he left on them, your neck spotted with red blotches. The hot water the sprayed over your bodies, amplifying the feeling. The heat helped to stimulate your nerve endings, his thrusts ten times more effective than normal. His touch made you whimper for more, needing the constant affection he was giving you.

As soon as you felt your stomach beginning to clench and your toes started to curl, he stopped moving. You were left empty, Dylan pulling out completely and dropping your leg. When you backed away to give him a sour look, you saw him turn to turn off the water. The curtain was ripped back with a scrape of the hooks on the metal rod, your body lifted off of the floor. You squeaked, afraid for a second he would slip, but he managed to step out of the tub, moving your soaked bodies towards your room. The chill of your apartment hit your dripping forms, a shiver running up and down your spine. Goosebumps formed on your skin making you curl into the natural heat Dylan provided. He was always a space heater and now you were glad he kept you so close.

He managed to push the blankets down, dropping you on the bed so it squealed under your weight. He laid to your side, pulling the blankets to your chests. Laying on your sides, you faced each other. Your hand stroked his face, tracing shapes along the speckled constellations on his cheeks. Dylan pulled your leg over his waist, the tip of his cock gravitating to your still yearning pussy.

Slowly, you pulled him forward into a delicate kiss, your lips moving against each other perfectly. They molded together like two pieces of the same puzzle, smoothing together in a lapse of bliss. Your legs twisted together, the leg you had over his waist pulling him closer with a nudge. The tip of his cock poked at your core, finally easing in when you used a hand to give his perfect butt a shove. Moans were mixed in with the kisses, vibrating throats and making the kisses hotter than before.

The thrusts he did weren’t entirely hard or wild. They were just right for you: steady, smooth and loving. He didn’t need to spank your ass or talk dirty to make you wet, though deep inside, you wanted to hear him talk like that as he fucked you relentlessly. Right now, you were glad that he was there in your arms. The sweet kisses made his powerful thrusts explosive, the tip hitting your g-spot over and over again. The kisses never stopped, foreheads resting on one another while your lips slid in rhythm with your clapping hips.

Slowly, they grew sloppy, Dylan’s chest heaving heavier. His eyes squeezed shut, panting with the inevitable orgasm he was about to have. Your hand scraped at his back to keep from screaming out in pleasure, leaving red marks along his tensed shoulder blades. Your walls clung around him, knowing you were close to your end. With one last kiss, you both broke. Your juices splashed around him while his seed spurt out in strings of white. They mixed together in an array of juices, warming your insides completely. Your walls hugged his length, milking every last drop he had built up into your core. His thrusts slowed, lips lingering with hot breaths.

Dylan pulled out of you, his hazy eyes opening. He watched your orbs flutter open, staring longingly at him. He rolled to hover over you, a mixture of sweat and shower water covering his skin from the passionate sex you had with each other. Finger tips ran along his cheeks, pulling him into a rare kiss where you covered his lips. The short connection still managed to make your lips tingle when he pulled away. With a happy sigh, his head fell to your chest, listening to your heart pound against your rib cage. He felt your lips on his forehead, hugging you close.

Things seemed to be perfect. You had the man of your dreams in your arms after a wonderful round of sex - honestly, the best sex you ever had. Now, you were laying in your bed together, legs tangled together, your hand running through his hair. It was like you were made for each other. You were happy. You were content.

Then, the feeling vanished and you were cold inside. The short lived moment was ruined by the bitter reminder of who he was. He was an actor. He was famous. He was hot. And you weren’t right for him. He deserved someone that people would accept. He deserved someone that would make him happy. And he wasn’t meant to be with you. You weren’t going to be accepted. As much as you wanted it, you knew it was impossible. The things people said and the way people glared at you - it was impossible.

His smile fell when you pushed him off your chest. He sat up on his elbows, watching you rushed around to grab a pair a shorts and a baggy Mets hoodie you stole from Dylan’s closet months ago. His lips pursed together, seeing your hand run through your wet, knotted locks in dismay.  

“Baby?” He asked lowly.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” you said quickly. You paced the length of your room, biting at your nail. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“Are you serious?” He snapped angrily, falling back on the bed. His hands ran over his face, groaning loudly. “Are we really back on this? I thought we got passed this.”

“Oh, cut the shit, Dylan,” you grumbled.

“Babe, listen to yourself!” He yelled. “We just had sex. The best sex ever. And instead of cuddling, you are pushing me away. Again! I thought by this happening, you were ok with everything. It’s possible for us to happen, babe. But I don’t get why you keep pushing me away.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“Because of my fans?” he sneered. “Because of my fucking fans? Babe, I don’t give a shit what they think! I love you! I want to be with you! You are the one that makes me happy. God, I wish you wouldn’t fucking let them get inside your head. It doesn’t matter what they want. It doesn’t matter how many times they say ‘I love you Dylan’ or anything of the likes. I don’t want them and they can suck my fucking dick if they don’t like me being with you. Hell, I will quit acting if that means I can be with you!”

“But that’s what I don’t want, Dylan!” you cried. “You’re at your best when you are acting. It makes you happy and you are amazing. I’m not going to be the reason you stop. I’m not going to be the reason people dislike you. I’m not going to drag you down, Dylan! I don’t want to hurt you because I’m not accepted. You don’t know how it feels for them to look at you the way they do me. And I won’t let them do that to you as well.”

“Babe, it doesn’t matter. They will learn to accept you because you make me happy. That’s what matters!”

“This can’t happen, Dylan. If this keeps up, it’s just going to end badly,” you cried, tears in your eyes. You played with the ends of the sleeves on your hoodie, the cuffs covering half of your hands. “My hands are tied, Dyl. Your fans won’t accept a nobody like me with the likes of you. You are the most amazing man in the world. Smart, handsome, funny, kind. But, I can’t have you. We’re bound to break because of the lives we live. We weren’t meant to be together.”

“You don’t mean that,” came his cracked voice. “We can make it work.”

“I’m sorry, Dylan.”

“Is this really how this is going to end?” He asked, fighting back his tears. “I’m going to go off to film and this is how you’re going to leave it? It literally feels like you are breaking up with me. Please, tell me this isn’t how it ends.”

You stayed silent.

“Y/N, please,” he cried. “Please, don’t leave me like this. Please, Y/N. I can’t lose you. I just can’t. I need you.”

Without answering, you walked out of the room, heading out to the patio. The rainy air made you shudder, leaning back against the wall. You could hear Dylan’s movements inside, doors slamming hard enough to shake the walls. His words stung, the fact that he admitted to loving you the way he did making your heart completely crack.That made everything even harder.

When the front door slammed next, you peered over the edge of the balcony, spotting his retreating form running through the rain. His headlights came on and his black Charger backed out dangerously. Tires squealed against the wet pavement, water flying behind him. He drove from the lot, his car disappearing into the darkness.

You slid to the ground, finally letting your tears flow freely. Hugging your knees to your chest, your face buried in them, crying into the odd hours of the night for your lost love.It didn’t matter how cold you got from the moist air. Your soul was cold and your heart was ice, a crack ebbed in there for eternity.

♪You know I want you/ It's not a secret I try to hide/ But I can't have you/ We're bound to break and my hands are tied♪

~

It had been a long couple of weeks. People noted how pale you looked and how unhappy you seemed. Once Dylan left, nothing felt right with you. You were empty inside and out. He didn’t bother to call or text. And with him being out of town for filming, you missed seeing him. His words haunted you every night, making you wonder if it was all a mistake.

Had you been in the wrong to worry about others opinions of you? Had you pushed him away wrongly because of his fans - over something he didn’t have control over. He said over and over again how the only thing that mattered was you and him. Yet, you ignored him, telling him how impossible it was. He told you how he loved you and what did you do? Told him no. You told him that you couldn’t be with him because people didn’t accept you.

You hated the situation. You hated his fame. You hated his fans for being so negative when they saw you two together. But, most of all, you hated yourself for breaking Dylan’s heart. All he did was love you, care for you and want to be with you and in return, he was crushed.

Returning home from work one night in mid-March, you tossed your coat on a hanger, dropping your purse on the couch and left your boots in the hallway before taking the bags of groceries to the kitchen. You opened the bottle of beer before preparing to make yourself a small dinner, putting away the groceries you didn’t need. The chicken sat on the counter, staring back at you tauntingly. Dylan always loved his chicken, and the meat was a harsh reminder of the chocolate haired man.

Before you could crack it open, your phone started ringing. Your eyebrow rose, sipping at the beer. Fishing it out, you stared at the unknown number in confusion. With a quick swipe of the green button, you held it to your ear. “Hello?” You answered hesitantly.

“Hi. I’m looking for a Miss Y/N L/N?” the lady on the other side hummed. The line was loud on the other side, only confusing you more. People seemed to be bustling around so you weren’t entirely sure why they were calling, looking for you. You weren’t really sure who they were anyway.

“Speaking,” you mumbled.

“Hi. My name is Ariel. I am a nurse here at Mount Saint Joseph Hospital in Vancouver,” she said. Your brow furrowed, forehead crinkling together. Why was a hospital calling you? “I’m calling on half of a… Mister O’Brien?”

You choked on your drink, sputtering with a cough. Drops of the sour liquid fell to the ground, but that was the least of your concerns. “E-excuse me?”

“I can’t provide a lot of information at this time, but Mister O’Brien was brought in after an accident occurred on the movie set he was working on. You were one of the first on his emergency contact list.”

“W-what’s wrong with him?” You asked quietly.

“Well, he is currently in surgery. It seems the accident caused multiple breaks in the right side of his face and there is the possibility for some brain damage the doctors will assess. We will know more after he gets out of surgery.”

Hearing her words, the bottle spilled from your grasp, shattering on the ground by your feet. You couldn’t even feel the tears running down your cheeks. You wobbled to the side, weakly catching yourself on the table. The tears hit the wood, dark dots forming under you. You choked on your words, sobbing into the phone. He had been hurt after everything that happened. You blamed yourself, already fearing the worst.

“Miss Y/N?” Ariel asked.

“S-sorry,” you choked. “I um… am I able to come see him?”

“Of course. He won’t be out of surgery for a while, but you can come and wait until he can be seen.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you.”

You hung up your phone, ignoring the broken glass in the middle of your kitchen as you ran to your room, throwing mismatched clothes into a bag. You called for an uber, making for the airport before you knew what was happening. The first flight to Vancouver wasn’t for hours, but you waited, not caring how long it took or how expensive it was. You were going to see Dylan, even if it killed you.

Arriving at the hospital, his parents and sister were there. They looked as wrecked as you were. Your makeup from work had smeared since you didn’t bother to remove it. It formed dark rings around your eyes like a raccoon without sleep. You still had your bag in hand when you ran in, dropping it to give Julia a massive hug. You sobbed in her arms, burying your face in the girl’s shoulder.

“It’s all my fault,” you cried. “It’s all my fault, Jules.”

“No, honey. It’s not,” she cooed with her ragged, tearful voice. “It was an accident.”

“No, no. It’s all my fault! I pushed him away. I told him we couldn’t be together. He got hurt because I broke him. What if he doesn’t make it through this? What if he stops acting? What if-”

“Shh,” she said, pushing you back to cup your cheeks in her hands. “He’s going to be ok. You just have to believe in that. You have to be strong for Dylan. My brother is strong and he will make it.”

“But, what if he doesn’t forgive me?” you cried. Julia smiled, kissing your forehead.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. And honestly, that boy could never hate you. He’s loved you since the day you walked over to our house. He will get through this and he will tell you the exact same thing. It wasn’t your fault.”

You cried for a bit longer before releasing her, giving hugs to the Patrick and Lisa. Together, you sat in the waiting room until a nurse walked over, informing you that he was out of surgery and in his room. You followed as a unit towards where he laid, your hand grasp tightly in Julia’s.

“He’s under some heavy pain killers and hasn’t completely come out of the anesthetic. He might be sleeping for a while.”

“But he’s ok?” You croaked.

“Well, he’s undergone some reconstructive surgery since the right side of his face was nearly crushed from the accident. He might need to get some more, but he has gotten four plates to support the structure of that side. There is some brain trauma that we will monitor to make sure it doesn’t get any worse, but he should recover from it. I think mostly, it will be afterwards. It’ll be hard to get back out there after something like this.”

You sniffled loudly. Facial reconstruction, four plates he would live with for the rest of his life, brain trauma. Your heart crumbled in your chest. The nurse stopped outside a door, letting Dylan’s parents in first. You were honestly scared to see him. You were scared to see what happened to him. You were scared to think about what would happen. Would he be the same old Dylan? Would he change because of this? Would the surgery change him? Would he still love you?

Julia went next, the three leaving to give you time alone with Dylan when they were done. The O’Brien’s weren’t stupid. They were privy to the feelings you held for their son just as they knew how he felt for you. So, they let you be, letting you have time alone at his side. Grateful as you were, you hesitated before walking in. The bag dropped from your shaky hands when you heart the heart monitor beeping steadily. You saw the IV drop in his arm and his limp body sleeping in nothing more than a hospital gown. Compression socks covered his feet that stuck out from under the blanket, his hand resting on his stomach as he snoozed. You could barely tell it was Dylan with his face bandaged as much as it was, skin a mixture or orange and red from blood and iodine.

Fresh tears sprung to your eyes, covering your mouth to muffle the cry you let out. Your heart shattered to the floor at his broken state. Still, you moved forward, pulling up the chair by his bed. You took the hand without the IV in it, lacing your fingers together with his. They felt colder than normal, his skin having lost the hot luster and rough texture you loved. His knuckles were neatly bandaged as well, your lips pressing to them with gentle kisses.

Under your breath, you hummed quietly, singing him a song you sang together. Since the first time Dylan played it for you, he always made you sing it with him. He once said it represented your friendship because amongst everyone, he was always able to see you. You were the brightest star that lit his path, being there for him no matter what. But, now that you were thinking on it, singing it to his unconscious form, you realized that it mean more than that. You were the only one for him and he was the only one for you.

“I don't care, go on and tear me apart. I don't care if you do ooh ooh. 'Cause in a sky, 'cause in a sky full of stars. I think I saw you,” you sang quietly, your tears falling on his hand. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was being stupid. I was being selfish. I thought I was doing what was best for both of us but in reality, it wasn’t good at all. I hurt you, I hurt me.

“But, please, Dylan. I need you. I need you so bad. I’m so sorry I kept pushing. And I promise, when you wake up, I’m done running. I want to be with you. I need you by my side. I want you, baby. You were right all along. It doesn’t matter what others say because all that matters to me is you. I will be by your side forever, no matter what. Just please, you have to make it through this. For me. I love you, Dylan O’Brien. I always have and I always will. And no one can stop us from being together if you still want that. I understand if you won’t because I… I broke you beyond belief.

“Dylan, please. I love you so much.”

You fell asleep by his side that night. And for many nights. You refused to leave his side, not wanting him to be alone when he awoke.

On the fifth day, his hand twitched. His body ached as he squirmed under the sheets. Clenching his eyes tighter. He remembered the jerk of his body and the pain the erupted over him like a volcano. He could recall the screams of people around him before the world went dark. He wanted to cry. He hurt, every limb of his body screaming at him to make it stop. The IV twisted when he felt at his bandaged face, remembering how fast everything went. People told him he was hurt, but he would be ok.

Was this ok?

His other hand was warm, a weight hanging on that side of the bed. It hurt to turn, his eyes softening when he saw your slumbering form. You looked like a wreck with your tangled hair and wrinkled, baggy clothes. Dark bags were under your eyes from lack of sleep, the stress having been too much to let you rest properly.

Just having you by his side made his heart thump, the beeping of the machine picking up. He would have smiled if he could, glad to see you there. He was sure that you hated him after the way you shut him out after you had sex. With you by his side, he was elated. The one thing he could have hoped to see was in front of him, holding his hand. The words he heard may not have been a dream after all, your voice echoing through his head with constant apologies.

His hand weakly squeezed at yours, waking you up in the process. He loved the way your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you awoke, lifting your head from the side of the bed. It took you a few blinks to focus on his dull brown eyes encased by the bandages that stared down your soul. Tears were in your eyes instantly when he tried to give you a weak smile, squeezing your hand again.

“Dylan,” you sobbed, covering the noises you wanted to cry out.

You pushed up from your seat, the chair tipping backwards. You had to kneel on the side of the bed to hover over him, carefully taking his head in your hands. As tenderly as possible, you placed a kiss to his lips, letting them linger for a second. Your tears dropped onto his face, a smile on your face.

“You’re awake,” you cried. “I love you, Dyl. I love you so much.”

He groaned in response, his dry throat and fractured face not allowing him to talk. Taking his hand, he gave it a squeeze, making you cry more.

“You still love me?” You asked. He nodded slightly. You smiled, kissing his hand. “I love you, Dyl. I’m so sorry. For everything. I was stupid. But, I’m done being stupid. I… I can’t lose you again. I need you. I want you. And no one can stop us if you’ll still have me.”

His fingers twitched, slowing moving to lace with yours. You grinned, crying into your conjoined hands.

You were going to be ok.

~

“You will do great,” you said, playing with the fluffy curls that resided against his forehead. “Deep breaths, baby.”

“I’ve done interviews before,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“I know, Dyl. But this is the first since…”

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered, taking your hand. Dylan kisses your palm, his smile hidden from your view. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” you told him, flushing a bright red.

“Dylan, we’re ready for you,” Clarissa, one of the people working on the interview, said, gesturing to the empty chair he was about to rest in.

“Alright,” he told her. Before he left, he placed a kiss to your lips, repeatedly placing them on your skin. His multiple kisses made you laugh, swatting him away. “Wish me luck!”

“Break a leg!” You grinned, the man stumbling away over clumsy feet.

August over a year later had come quickly. Dylan’s accident was hard to overcome, the man dealing with many hardships the entire time. But, he got up off the couch and managed to overcome the plagues of his mind. He filmed American Assassin about six months after he returned home from Vancouver. He went back and finished filming Death Cure in South Africa that May. He was back to the bright and shining Dylan O’Brien everyone knew and loved, and it didn’t even feel like he had been in a life-threatening accident on set.

He was doing press finally for the American Assassin release in a month and he was nervous. This was the first time he was getting interviewed since leaving the hospital and you both knew every interviewer was going to ask about the incident. Dylan had a couple of panic attacks at night when he thought about it, the trauma still present deep inside him. But, after many pep talks and deep breathing sessions he claimed he was ready to talk about. A year and he was going to reveal enough about what happened and how he felt after it all happened.

You stood off to the side, listening to the interviewer, Carla, ask him about the movie and working with Taylor and Michael. She asked about being cast as Mitch and how it was different than the other roles he played. He happily answered it all, never once shying away from his thoughts. He smiled brightly, making you proud of the man you loved. You were giddy to see him having come so far.

“Now, the elephant in the room,” Carla hummed thoughtfully. “The Death Cure. The accident last March. We know it happened, but we don’t know the details. I was wondering if you could share some of your thoughts on that.”

You swallowed thickly, seeing Dylan do the same. This was the moment you had been dreading. Dylan rubbed his hands on his jeans, adjusting in his seat. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“Yeah. The, um, accident,” he breathed. “It was hard. Honestly, it was something you know can happen but never thought actually would. One moment I was doing a scene and the next, I was on the ground, in pain, with people screaming around me. I ended up breaking most of the right side of my face and I thought I wouldn’t ever look the same after that. I was sure I was going to be scarred for the rest of my life and I wouldn’t look like me anymore. But, the doctors I had… they were amazing and made it look like nothing ever happened. Now, I just have four plates in my face that I will live with forever. There was some brain trauma I had to deal with but nothing I can’t handle now.

“After I got out, I… I almost didn’t come back. I was scared. I constantly thought that if it happened once, it could happen again. So, I wasn’t sure for a long time if I was going to get back into acting. I stayed in a lot because I didn’t know what to do with myself. But, I also realized that if I wasn’t acting, I didn’t know what I would be doing. Acting is such a large part of my life and I would feel lost if I didn’t get back out there. I couldn’t just give it up after all of this. And I had made commitments that I felt I couldn’t back out of. I didn’t want to give up. So, I got up off my couch, gave Cuesta a call and here we are.”

“So, what was training like coming off of that?”

“Not easy,” Dylan laughed. “I suffered from a lot of anxiety getting back into the swing of things. I spent eight weeks in LA with a trainer and throughout the weeks, I can’t count how many times I had a panic attack. He would pick up on when I was having a panic attack and end the session, helping me calm down. But, overall, it was good for me. It made me stronger, physically and mentally. And honestly, the accident helped me connect to Mitch on such a deeper level. I was able to understand what he went through, the pain and anguish and the anxiety that comes after a life experience like that. That connection meant so much more to me than I ever could have hoped for and I am thankful for that.”

“Well, we are definitely glad you came back,” Carla smiled. “But, I think what we want to know the most is how are you now?”

“Better,” Dylan said gratefully. “The last year hasn’t been the easiest, but I had a lot of support to get through everything. I honestly couldn’t have gotten through it without the support of my family, my friends, and…” He trailed off, glancing over at you. The thing you worried about for so long was about to be revealed. The secret you kept for so long was bound to be told publically. But, Dylan had said he wouldn’t say anything if you didn’t want it. But, you nodded at him, giving him the smile of acceptance he had waited for. “And my girlfriend, Y/N.

“I couldn’t have done this without any of them, especially her. She was there for me through… everything. She was the first thing I woke up after my accident. She was by my side no matter what. She took care of me when I couldn’t do things myself. She really was my rock, there to hold me up when I down. Y/N helped me through panic attacks and night terrors. She helped push me to get back into acting because she knew how much it meant to me. She told me one night that I would regret not getting back out there and honestly, she knows me well enough that she was absolutely right. She didn’t want me to stop what I love and I love her for that.”

“She sounds like an amazing girl.”

“She really is,” Dylan bragged. “She’s been my best friend for so long. I’ve known her for over ten years and I have been head over heels since high school for her. Even if she weren’t my girlfriend, I wouldn’t have gotten through this without her. I needed her just as much as I needed my family. The day I was leaving for London to film, I had a panic attack in the airport. Between her and my dad being there, I was able to calm down. They flew to London with me and stayed while I began the first few weeks of filming. But Y/N… yeah. She was my everything. She still is. She never once left my side. And I’m alive today because of her and her support. I love her dearly and she makes me incredibly happy. I’m lucky to have her.”

“Well, we are really glad you are ok now and back to filming,” Carla smiled.

“It’s good to be back.”

He thanked Carla for the interview, running back to your side. The second you were within reach, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You laughed as he spun you around, your arms clinging to his neck. “Dyl! Put me down!” you screamed. You were placed down, only to find his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. It was short, but you were left smiling. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, cupcake,” he grinned. “Ready to go home? To our home? God, I love saying that.”

“Dylan, it’s been our house for a month now.”

“I know,” he mused, taking your hand in his, lacing your fingers. “But, It’s our home, babe. I’m not going to get over that.”

“You’re a dork.”

With your hands combined, you proudly left the studio with the man you loved. A guard escorted you to the car that would take you back to Dylan’s manager’s office where Dylan’s car awaited. Some fans were outside, cheering and waving at Dylan. Some were ever screaming your name, smiling at you as you passed. It felt surreal at some of his fans were finally coming around to you, even if nothing was officially said about your relationship status until today. They supported you even when you thought they wouldn’t.

Sometimes, you hated to admit Dylan was right about these things.

The ride back to the house was silent, the two of you munching on some Chipotle burritos on the way. When he parked the car, you took a second to stare up at the marvelous house he bought for the two of you after he begged you to move in with him. Literally, he had gotten on his hands and knees to ask you to move in with him roughly a year after he could properly ask you to be his girlfriend. The large house was perfect - just like him. It was everything you had imagined you wanted growing up; Dylan made it all a reality.

The sun had set by this time. Dylan opened the door for you, helping you out of the car and into the house. His hands sat on your shoulders, guiding you through the front door. He massaged them lightly, his hands a wonder against your skin. The front door was locked behind you, your shoes left in the entryway like always. Your bodies slugged forward, tired from the long day.

“I think I could sleep forever,” Dylan groaned, leading you up the stairs to your room. The light flickered on, Dylan moving from your back to strip off his shirt. “I did not miss this.”

“You’ve always hated press tours,” you teased. “You never have liked interviews and the likes.”

You pulled your own shirt over your head, leaving you in just the lacy blue bra Dylan picked for you recently. He joked that it was because it was Mets blue, but you knew he liked the way your chest looked in it. And it was comfortable, so you were all for it. A darker bit of material covered your nipples, but the tops of the cups were mesh and see through. Roses lines the top of the cups while a box rested between your breasts. It was cute and stylish while providing support. They also made your chest look plump.

Before you could find your baggy nightshirt, two arms snaked around your waist, tugging you into a warm, bare torso. Lips found their way to your neck, tender kisses left from it to your shoulder. You moaned at the careful touch, your head tilting away to allow the better access. Hot breath hit the wet skin from the countless kisses, your breathing increasing and growing ragged.

“Thank you,” Dylan breathed into your ear, nipping at the earlobe. “For everything.”

Your hands smoothed over his resting on your stomach, leaning back into his touch better. “I should be thanking you because my life would be incomplete without you,” you told him.

You turned to see him, finding Dylan staring down at you with a dark glint in his beautiful hazel eyes. In a blink, his face moved forward and he was attacking your lips with his. Sloppy, open-mouth kisses were exchanged, tongues swirling together between your cheeks. Your arm wrapped around his head, tangling in his luscious hair. It helped to keep his face pressed to yours, the loud smack of lips disconnecting and recolliding together filling your bedroom.

His hands traveled up your body, sliding under the end of your bra to grip at both of your breasts. You moaned into the kiss, squirming in his grasp. His fingers flicked at your nipples, making them harder. He fondled them lovingly, jiggling them in an uneven beat. The feeling of his hands against your chest made you ache, your backside grinding against his crotch where the very evident erection was hidden in his jeans.

You were spun in his arms, Dylan lifting you off the ground mid kiss. Your legs weaved around his waist naturally, allowing him to carry you to the bed where you were dropping remorselessly. He popped the button and pulled off your jeans swiftly before moving to hover over you. Your lips reconnected in a heated encounter, his body rolling perfectly into yours. Hips grinded together, sparking your nerve endings to go wild. Limbs tangled together in a jumble of arms and legs trying to feel up the other.

Dylan’s hands worked on your bra while you worked on his belt and jeans. The black leather belt he wore was pulled free and tossed aside with a loud clank of metal. The popped button on the black denim let the hang low to show his v-lines and the happy trail that disappeared into his Calvin Kleins. With the way you were laying, you couldn’t easily push them down. Dylan didn’t have the same issue. Your bra was across the room and his lips were on your breast before you could tell what had happened.

Your hands tugged at his hair, back arching off the bed. Your core pressed up into his covered length, the attack on your chest making it burn. Your matching panties were soaked, juices leaking down your leg. It left a wet spot on his jeans, it growing darker the more you rubbed into him. The man ravished your mounds, taking as much of the skin around your nipples as he could into his mouth. His lips and teeth tugged at it, pulling away with a pop occasionally. His tongue flicked the boisterous nipples left and right, up and down, blowing cold air until they were rock hard to the touch. They were red and ripe, swollen from the assault they were receiving. Red blotches were left between the mounds, the process repeated.

“Dyl,” you moaned, tugging at his hair. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“Do you now?” He taunted, trailing the kisses down your stomach and along the hem of your panties. “How much do you love me?”

“So much, baby,” you cried, bucking into his face. “So much so that I want to suck your cock while you eat me out.”

Dylan choked, pushing up on his hands to look at you. “Seriously?” He questioned. “You want to sixty-nine?”

“Is that a problem?” You asked.

“No. No, no, no,” he breathed, licking his lips. “It’s really fucking hot. We’ve never done that.”

“Come on, Dyl. Be sexy and kinky for once,” you laughed. His brown rose, a smirk forming on his face.

“I can be kinky, baby. Is that what you want?” He hummed, moving up to kiss your lips. “You want to have some dirty sex with me, cupcake?”

“Yes, actually,” you mused, making him choke again. “Always have dreamt of it. When you were away filming, I would touch myself while thinking about some dirty, kinky sex with the love of my life. I came thinking about all the ways my wonderful boyfriend would please me.”

“Why am I just now being informed of this?” he growled. “I thought we had this agreement about masturbating while I was away.”

“I know. I just couldn’t help it. Finally have this man I’ve always wanted in my life and I can’t stop thinking about what I want him to do to me and what I want to do to him,” you teased. “And right now, I want him to cum down my throat.”

Forcing all of your weight onto him, you flipped Dylan onto his back, The man not bothering to protest. He inched back on the pillows enough to watch you kiss down his chest, the man squirming when you kissed at his sensitive nipples. You smiled sweetly up at him, a mischievous agenda behind your eyes. His jeans, Calvin Kleins attached, were tugged down to his ankles, his cock springing free from its confines. The long, thick length slapped his stomach proudly, twitching with its newfound freedom. The tip was red and swollen with bits of precum dripping out of it. You were tempted to leave his pants bunched around his ankles so you could have that dick in your mouth, but you knew he would whine until they were off. So, they were stripped off of hi completely, dropped off the end of the bed long forgotten.

Dylan gestured you forward with the curl of a finger, placing a kiss to your lips before you spun around on him. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I’m glad you’re mine finally.”

“I love you too, Dyl,” you hummed, kissing him again. “I always have and I always will.”

“Good. Now,” he bemused, smacking your ass to make you squeak in joyful surprise. “I suggest you turn you cute little around, put your pretty little lips around my cock while I lick your pussy until you cum on my tongue.”

“I like dirty Dyl,” you laughed, doing as he said. You nuzzled against his pulsating length, kissing up and down it. Dylan groaned, pulling you back so he could see your dripping pussy better, running a tongue through your folds. His hands kept firm holds on your legs on either side of his head, the actor wasting no time shoving his face completely in your core, tongue delved deep inside you.

You mewled, struggling to stay focused from the pleasure washing over your body. His magical tongue circled inside you, the tip massaging at your sensitive walls in search of the spots that made you scream. He normally found them easily with his cock, but his tongue was struggling; that, or he wasn’t trying hard to find it right away to prolong your delight. The more he licked at your moist center, pulling out occasionally to harshly suck at the swollen nub of your clit, the more he seeped precum that made your eyes widen and mouth water.

Your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, hollowed cheeks sucking at it happily. Your tongue smoothed over the slit in the tip to savor the salty sweet gold he released, feeling the rough patch of the frenulum. Dylan groaned in approval, the noise vibrating your center and up your body. It pushed you to do more. Your head bobbed along his length, tracing your tongue along the pulsing veins on the underside that succeeded in drawing even more muffled noises from the man under you. The tip of his shaft hit the back of your throat, but it didn’t stop you from showering his length was affection.

His mouth stayed on your core while his fingers played with your clit, stimulating you in multiple ways. In return, you toyed with his balls, caressing them in your hand. Together, you pleased the other, moans muffled by the skin you were sucking at. Your toes curled while Dylan’s flexed, his legs tensing from the overwhelming ecstasy. Your stomach was tightening, coiled from his tongue buried deep inside you. It was burning up quickly, the smoldering fire inside you intensifying. Dylan was shaking, indicating that he was at that point.

With a snap of the fingers, you were moaning around him, your juices leaking out on his tongue. Dylan happily lapped them up, swallowing every last drop. And after two more hard sucks of your mouth, he was shooting his seed down your throat, ejaculating drop after drop onto your tongue. The strings of white cum slid down your throat in waves, not one ounce allowed to escape. When you pulled away, yu ran your tongue over your lips, making sure nothing had managed to escape.

Dylan was breathing heavily when you crawled off of him, his stubbled chin and area around his mouth glistening in the lamplight from your core. His eyes were hazy and his smile was lopsided, the entire aura screaming satisfaction. He didn’t bother to wipe his mouth clean, occasionally licking at them to taste your sweet arousal. You gave him a smile, leaning over his body to lazily kiss his lips. A breathy moan left his lips, pushing harder into it.

He groaned in disapproval when you pulled away, but the frown on his lips upturned quickly when you straddled his waist instead. Your hips rocked against his, his shaft sliding through your folds. It slickened from the roll of your hips, the tip prodding at your core, unsuccessfully sliding in every time. The man under you groaned, gripping your hips tightly.

“Come on, baby,” he scowled. “Stop teasing. God, I need to be inside you. Don’t make me wait. Show me what you got.”

“What do you want?” you asked, circling your hips over him. His mouth opened to answer, a disgruntled moan leaving in a gruff sound.

“Ride me like a fucking cowgirl,” he rasped. “I want to see you bouncing like crazy on my cock. I want to feel your tight fucking pussy hugging me while I cum inside you. I will smack your ass while you pound yourself on my cock. Fuck, baby. Just do something.”

You grinned, sliding his sock inside you with a shift of the hips. He was hilt deep in a matter of seconds, his thick shaft filling you to the brim. Placing your hands on his chest, you propped yourself on the balls of your feet, beginning to bounce on his shaft steadily. Slow at first, your pace gradually got faster, using his chest for leverage. Dylan never cared that you put weight on his chest when you started having regular sex. It allowed you to ride him better, your hips clapping together with a sweaty smack.

Dylan watched you quickly bounce on him, his cock sliding in and out of you quickly. Your breasts followed the same motion, jiggling up and down when you pushed against the balls of your feet. His shaft was wet when he emerged, covered in your arousal before he disappeared again into your depths. With his hands on your hips, he guided your motions, helping you slam against him as hard as you could. And when you had a good rhythm, Dylan would smack your ass to make you moan his name, your backside red with handprints.

Dylan tugged you forward so your chests collided, forcing you to turn onto your back so he was hovering over you. Your legs were pushed up, trapped by his arms so  your legs ended up perpendicular to the bed. The backs of your knees rested to his elbows, Dylan inching up your body so he was deeply inside you. It seemed like his cock was resting to your g-spot because you walls were spasming around him, your moans a constant stream from your mouth. His eyes were locked on yours, giving you a deep kiss before moving.

His thrusts were quick to start, slamming deeply into you. You mewled his name, clawing at his arms and back while he moved. His cock pistoned into you, your back being pounded into the mattress. Every thrust of his hips made a sweaty slapping sound that reverberated through the room. Every push into you allowed him to his your sweet spot harder enough to make you scream, rubbing against your sensitive walls with ease. Your legs bounced through the air, toes furling through the air.

“Fuck me, Dylan,” you cried, throwing your head back in the pillows. His pistoning sped up, slamming you into the mattress. His increased speed made you scream louder and more often. “Fuck! Fuck me, Dylan. Fuck me, Dylan. Fuck me, Dylan,” you chanted. His labored breathing picked up, but he didn’t stop, pushing into you as hard as he could.

“Fuck, you feel so good, cupcake,” he groaned. “So tight and warm. You feel so good. Shit, I can’t wait to fill you with my cum.”

His angle and depth, his speed and power - everything made the knot inside you twist into a million tiny coils before exploding. Deep claw marks shredded at his back throughout your orgasm, his shoulder blades red as you came. Your juices splashed around his length, splattering against your walls and coating his cock. His thrusts became slick, squishing to mix with the scream, the hip smacks, and the heavy breaths.

Dylan leaned down to kiss you one last time, unable to contain his orgasm that he had been chasing. With a muffled grunt that vibrated his throat, he spilled his seed into you. Strings of hot, white arousal seeped into you, ixing with the fluids you released around him. His thrusts slowed, remaining solely so you could ride out your highs. Your tight walls that were once spasming around him clung to every inch of his length, milking the last of his juices into you.

Dylan dropped your legs, rolling off of you onto his side of the bed. Both of you just laid flat, catching your breaths from the rigorous activities. Dylan turned his head to glance at you, you turned to glance at him. Without explanation, you both burst out laughing, rolling towards each other. His arm draped over your waist, tugging you closer to him.

“God, I love you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would be lying here with you now, calling you mine. I’m just so glad that we could be here now.”

“I love you too, Dyl,” you hummed, kissing his lips softly. “I can’t tell you how stupid I was for pushing you away for so long.”

“It’s fine, cupcake,” he said, playing with your hair. “I get it. My fans… they’re crazy sometimes. But, they will accept you because you are the perfect girl for me. They can’t keep me from loving you. They don’t make the decisions for us. I chose you, Y/N L/N, because you are the most amazing woman I know. You have always been there for me when I’ve needed you. You are my best friend and my girlfriend and my lover and…” he paused, kissing you softly. “No one will tell us who we can be or what our relationship is. All I know is that you were meant to be mine and I am never letting you go again.”

“I’m still sorry,” you murmured. “I hurt you so much. I never should have let them get to me.”

“Babe, it’s fine,” he said. “It’s the past and you are mine.”

“But-”

“No,” he claimed, rolling on top of you. He peppered your face with kisses, making you laugh. “No buts. You are an amazing woman and I will fight you.”

“Did you just say that?” you laughed, shaking your head. Dylan grinned before rolling off of you. His naked behind scurried away to the dresser, rummaging through it for a pair of socks. You watched hi in confusion until he returned with a pair of fuzzy Mets socks he rare wore. His half limp dick flounced with his steps, but he was uncaring to what you saw. Plopping himself back on the bed, he pulled you into his chest while his back rest against the headboard. The blankets were pulled up over your laps, your chests exposed.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he started.

“About socks?” you joked. “Didn’t know you thought so hard about socks, baby.”

“Shush,” he scolded. “Just let me talk, dork brain.”

“Fine, fine.”

Dylan took a deep breath, taking you hand briefly. “Y/N, you are my best friend. You are my girlfriend. You are the girl I have loved for so long. I’m glad I can call you my own. You have been there for me through everything and I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you. After my accident, I was so glad that you were there when I awoke. You gave me hope that everything would be ok.”

You glanced up at the man, concerned slightly. “What are you getting at, Dyl?”

“I’m getting to that!” he laughed. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you. I love you with everything I have. I love you today, I will love you tomorrow and I will love you for all of eternity. And, I wasn’t planning to do this right now, but, my parents told me to do it when it felt right. And it does.”

Slowly, from the socks he had grabbed, he pulled out a black, velvet box that made you heart stop. Your eyes were the size of golf balls. Inside the box was a diamond ring in the shape of a rose.

“Y/N, I want to spend the rest of my life with you because no one else can tell us who we can be with. We decide what the future holds for us, and mine is with you. So, please, Y/N L/N, will you be my wife?”

You gaped at the ring, making Dylan nervous.

“Please answer me,” he whimpered quietly.

Swallowing, you nodded, tears springing to your eyes. “Yes, Dylan. I will marry you.”

Dylan smiled, taking the ring from the box and sliding it on your finger. It fit perfect and once it was in place, he kissed it repeatedly. He turned to look up at you, finding you staring at him. He leaned up, connecting your lips in a heated embrace. Smiles were hidden in it, the love filling the room.

When you pulled away, he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied. “Now, I’m hungry. Can we order take out?”

Dylan cracked up laughing, burying his face in your neck. “You’re impossible.”

“I know.”

Errthang Tag 2.0: @catcrown21; @voidkitsune24; @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone; @savage-stilinski; @twilightparker; @rumoured-whispers; @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname; @caitsymichelle13; @addicttotw; @fox-lau; @xmadwonderland; @kaelyn-lobrutto24; @lobrien; @kal-pal; @espermirror; @nowthisiswaar; @belleknows; @ashpie97; @mixedupsammy; @dylobrienlover; @newtosaur250; @bandsweyhey; @offthewallspidey; @livinginadreamersparadise; @tommyswolves; @ashotofblues; @bilesbilinskix; @danathewitchywoman; @thisismexxo; @you-all-have-guns; @soulaura-canavel; @bojabee; @obrienswxlf; @feelingsareharddd; @xoitsjustmexo;@supernaturaltakeover; @suggsmate; @cassiee867; @spooky-lara-stilinski; @barryallenplease; @herscrunchiehairtie; @bottleoffirewhisky; @jadalecki-jackles; @evansesdust; @everythingthatisrandom; @puppiesarehappiness; @ixlovexpeterxparker; @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed; @tenseoyong; @jadav5; @mischiefandi; @myrandomzshit; @disbestiles; @mxtchsbxtch; @dafine18; @avadakedabitch; @girlwiththerubyslippers; @xpinkyprincess; @ssweet-empowerment; @jackles-jadalecki; @dobseventeen; @dylnobrien1911, @redstringlovers; @brien-odylan @xxxxdelenaxxxx; @katlovey14; @deajm2116; @loverofwaytoomanythings618;  @megreadss; @nooneelsethandacre; @dvlob

[pastelbatfandoms]

Get to know my character

Doing this for My OC Marianna. Peter Hale’s Girl from Teen Wolf.

01. What does your character’s name mean? Did you pick it for the symbolism, or did you just like the way it sounded? Marianna is a Spanish name and I am loosely basing her off of The Desert Wolf,which is why I chose that name. Even though Marianna is Native American. 

02. What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness? Peter is definitely a Weakness,and her Insecurity over how she doesn’t feel like she’s strong enough to handle him. Turns out she was wrong. Peter is as weak and Vulnerable around Marianna,as he has told her “They are Imprinted and that can’t be broken.” Though when he told her that he was stalking her and showing his weakness in more Aggressive ways. That has stopped since he turned Marianna and became her Alpha and a Father. 

03. What would be their favorite physical trait about themselves? Her Strength and eyes paired with that smile that she knows can usually charm Peter into doing anything. 

04. What are their favorite traits about their lover? (one psychological and one physical) What others find Irritating,like Peter’s Sass and Sarcastic Wit,Marianna finds Funny and Sexy. They both share the same dark humor. As well as his fierce protectiveness for those he truly cares about like Herself,Malia and Derek. 

Physically? I mean that’s what attracted her to him in the first place,though he was younger then,but seeing him older didn’t deter her,it was more the History between them that did that. Peter is cute when he’s younger and still exudes that Charm and Confidence but as an Adult he is even hotter and that Primal Werewolf part of him doesn’t hurt either.

05. Are they sexually confident or more of the shy type? Definitely Confident. Though she didn’t have much experience until she met Peter. 

06. Do they have any hobbies that their lover finds unusual, odd, or otherwise annoying?Not Hobbies although Peter isn’t one for Teen Drama but Marianna is mature for her age,her denying she still felt a connection between them or had feelings for him after they broke up,is what irritated Peter though and spurred him on to pursue her more. After becoming her Alpha Peter found out an interest of hers that though surprised him,intrigued him more,That she was a Little,or at her age just very Childlike,he was already Marianna’s Alpha which has it’s Dom Tendencies,Sexual and not,so being her Daddy Wolf wasn’t much different and something that wasn’t new to him. But was made more special because of there deeper connection. 

07. Is there a catchphrase or sound that they tend to make a lot (likely without being aware of it)? Besides Growling when she feels threatened and her little girl voice when she wants something from Peter...It works on Derek too. 

08. What is, perhaps, their biggest flaw? Are they aware of this or oblivious to it? Her loner personality,even surrounded by so many Friends. She also has a quick temper which Peter sometimes reigns in sometimes encourages. 

09. Do they have a favorite season? What about a favorite holiday? Being a White Wolf,Marianna is partial to Winter just because she can blend into The Snow better. Her favorite Holiday is her Birthday because her Pack,especially Peter ,spoils her and her Friends always take her some place fun. 

10. Is your character more feminine or masculine? A mixture of both.

11. What is something that would make your character fly into a rage? She’s a Wolf so...alot at first lol when she grows and becomes Queen to Peter’s Alpha she is more calm but anyone who comes for Her Family will definitely feel her rage. 

12. Is there some particular talent, skill, or attribute that they simply could not give up? Her Powers,She grew up a Witch,her Mother being a Shaman,but her favored Magic is her Telekinesis.

13. What are your character’s sleeping habits? Heavy or light sleeper? Blanket stealer? One that always rolls onto the floor? Pushes their lover onto the floor? Sleep talker or walker? She’s a heavy sleeper and can rarely sleep without Peter. Especially as a Human because he was so warm.

14. Do they live alone or with family? How do they feel about their family/roommates? She did live with Scott and his Mom after her Parents,who were Drifters left to Mexico. After High School she went to Arizona with Peter which is where they tried there hand at there own pack and had Malia.

15. Is there a certain person in this world that they cannot stand? The very mention of this person’s name makes them tremble with anger or fear. The Argents (Except Alison and her Dad),and any other Hunters that come for her Daughter or Peter. 

16. Is your character the athletic type or more of a couch potato? What are some sports/games that they like? lol Definitely more of The Athletic type now. Especially when it comes to sparring with Peter or Derek or Erica. before she used to be a Cheerleader,with the insistence of Lydia. But Marianna still loves watching a Movie or reading a Book while curled on Peter’s lap. 

17. Does your character have dreams of getting married and/or having children? She is both a Queen and a Mother. 

18. What kind of home would they want to live in? Where would they place this abode? She really doesn’t mind as long as her loved one’s are with her. It could be a Loft,an Apartment Downtown or a Cabin in The Forest. 

19. Would your character be the kind to get into fights? (physical or verbal) Would they be a good fighter or cave in rather easily?  She tended to avoid them as a Human,but as a Wolf well that’s a different story. Marianna is definitely well trained now. 

20. Does your character like animals? What are some of their favorite animals? Would they want pets? What about mythological creatures? Yes,Dogs of all kinds. Wolves,Coyotes and Wild Cats as well. 

I mean would Lycanthrope be too on the nose? lol

21. What is one of your character’s biggest fears? How would they react when dealing with this fear? Losing there Family,she’s already lost one of her Best Friends and members of her Pack,I don’t think she could bear to lose another. Especially Stiles,Lydia,Peter and Malia. 

22. What kind of tattoos, piercings, birthmarks, freckles, and other such unique physical features do they have? After becoming a Were and joining The Hale Family,Marianna received A Tattoo of the Triskelion on her inner wrist,signifying her Pack. 

23. What is your character like when it comes to school? What subjects are they good/bad at? Do they get in trouble a lot or are well behaved? Marianna tended to slack off at school,much like Stiles,but she had a fondness for World History and got good enough grades to remain on The Cheer Squad. 

24. In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like? Personality wise? Powerful,Charming,Intelligent,Obsessive,Aggressive,Vengeful (when younger) Cunning,A Smart Ass,Fun,and a great Teacher as well as Father. (though he may not believe the latter) Peter can also be Sensitive and a good listener when in private. 

25. Is there something traumatic from your character’s past that greatly affects them even to this day? She’s already lived through it all and came out alive,she tends to not live in regret and taught Peter to not live in the past. 

26. What is their lover like sexually? How do they feel about their lover’s quirks, needs, etc? I mean...I’ll make an A-Z Headcanon for Peter ♥

27. If your character was going to get arrested, what would be the most likely reason for it? lol as a Human,ditching school,but it would probably be with Stiles and Scott,getting caught by Sheriff Stilinski who would tell them to go back to school and that Stiles was Grounded. 

28. If your character became a celebrity, what would they be famous for? No idea. Maybe Dance. 

29. What is one of the most courageous things your character has ever done for a loved one? Almost Died.

30. When it comes to the arts (music, film, theater, etc), what does your character like? In Little Space (which is around 12 yrs.) She likes Coloring,Stuffies,Watching Wrestling,and playing with Daddy. Her little space is less when she becomes a Mother,but that’s not a bad thing. Otherwise she likes going out Dancing,Reading Murder Mystery’s with Peter,Watching Scary Movies,which Peter tends to make fun of her for.

”Haven’t you been through worse? Those aren’t even real.” “Peter shut up.” 

31. Would your character be the kind capable of killing? Would they enjoy killing or only use it when necessary or, perhaps, refuse to kill no matter what? They wouldn’t enjoy but if she had to she will. 

32. If your character’s lover offered to take them out on a dream date, what would they want to do? A Dinner Date with Roses,then going out into the night in there Wolf forms and playing Chase games,Marianna always lets Peter catch her though because she likes the end result ;)

33. If your character wanted to be alone, where would they go? The Loft or The Woods in her Wolf form. 

34. Does your character have favorite foods? (breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks, etc) She’s a Carnivore ;) 

35. Is your character afraid of death? If they got to choose how to die, how would they want to go? Not anymore. She will die protecting her Pack or she won’t die at all. 

36. Does your character have any medical conditions? Are they serious or minor? Do they affect their day to day life? No. She had PTSD for awhile after what happened with Peter and later having to leave him and Malia. But that’s more mental. 

37. What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them? When someone is obviously lying,making preconceived notions about a person,particularly Peter,even though she has done it. Hunters and pretty much everything they stand for,sorry Allison...Jealously even though she can get that way too. Though if it’s done in a protective way she doesn’t mind. Hard to rule that out with Werewolves though,especially an Alpha. 

38. What kind of weather does your character like? Cloudy skies, rainy days, sunshine, etc? Rain or Snow. 

39. When people look at your character, is there some assumption they might make about them just by appearance? Is that assumption correct? That she’s a Rebel and doesn’t care for Authority,which is kinda true. That she doesn’t make good Decisions and is letting Peter control her which is not true. 

40. Does your OC have any guilty pleasures they enjoy? Hobbies, past times, music, etc that they wouldn’t want known by others? Well not everyone knows about her Little side or about Peter and Marianna’s kinkier side and they don’t need to.

41. Does your character’s family affect your character in any way? Not Blood Family. But her Foster family (The McCalls),Her Friends,Her Alpha,Her Daughter and her Pack affect her daily life,they have to. 

42. Is there anything in your character’s past that they regret, haunts them, or they wish they could change? No,though Peter probably wishes he could change a few things...

43. Does your character have a switch that changes aspects of their personality whether they are around friends, family, etc. Is there someone who gets to see their true self? Just her little side and only Peter,Derek and Stiles knows about that. 

44. Is there a particular event that would emotionally devastate your character? If she had lost Peter and Malia to The Hunters. 

45. Is your character the kind to hide their true emotions or do they wear their heart on their sleeve? Both. She can be rather stubborn and only her Girl Friends,Stiles and later Peter have seen her Cry. But she does open up a bit more after having Malia.

46. What is some random affectionate thing that your character always does to their lover? If Peter’s sitting in his favorite Velvet chair or the couch,Marianna will crawl up on his lap and nuzzle him,Peter usually doesn’t mind,causally stroking her hair as he talks to the group. Unless he’s upset then it takes a bit more prodding on her part. 

47. Is your character outgoing? Would they be the leader of the friend group, or the quiet one that gets dragged along? A bit. As a Human she was usually just a part of the fun,unless she wanted to spend time alone. As a Wolf she’s a bit more out going and Authoritative especially as an Alpha. 

48. Is there anything in particular that would ignite your character’s jealousy? Or does your character not get envious? Peter. Just being Peter lol Especially when she was trying to hide her feelings from him.

49. What is something that your character has nightmares about? Are these frequent? Do they heavily affect your character’s mood? Before they got back together,when Peter had some issues and was stalking her and killing those around her,she would have nightmares about him attacking her or turning her. As an Adult after she had to leave Malia and Peter,Marianna had nightmares about The Hunters killing them. 

50. If your character confessed love to their crush, boyfriend, girlfriend, etc, what would they say? Done that. It was in a life or death situation when she finally admitted,tearfully that she still loved him. After he recovered Peter told Marianna he was madly in love with her and Marianna finally accepted him for who he was.  

[kmomof4]

Well, I did it again...

I wrote another fic... 

Well, here we are again. I honestly didn’t think I’d ever write another fic, and I still can’t believe I did it, but when I finally bought and downloaded one of my youngest’s favorite movies, the ending gave me massive CS feels. So after plenty of hand-holding, encouragement, cheerleading, and brilliantly executed beta duties from none other than @hollyethecurious, @winterbaby89, and @shireness-says, I present to you my second CS fic. I hope you all like it. There are two instances of strong language and the fic is rated T because of that. Many thanks to @winterbaby89 for the use of her original character from The Red Dress Affair. This is an unapologetically stupid disaster movie fic, based on the 1997 Tommy Lee Jones movie Volcano. I have taken a massive amount of liberties with LA geography, field trip protocol, and established scientific fact to fit the purposes of the fic. Apologies to anyone who lives in the area and/or cares.

Tagging some folks who might be interested in reading something else from me. @artistic-writer @ilovemesomekillianjones @doodlelolly0910 @let-it-raines @profdanglaisstuff @resident-of-storybrooke @seriouslyhooked @branlovestowrite @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes @pocket-anon @donteattheappleshook @kymbersmith-90 @snowbellewells @sherlockianwhovian @teamhook

Read more line after the first scene unless Tumblr ate it. Part 2 will be up on Tuesday.

State of Emergency ao3 link

Thursday, February 7, 2019

Emma Swan stood at the stove listening to the morning news in the background while scrambling eggs for herself and her son, Henry, before she sent him off to school. He had a big day ahead of him with his Kindergarten Buddy Field Trip to the La Brea Tar Pits. As a “senior” at his school, the entire sixth grade class had been assigned an upcoming kindergartener as a “buddy” to help them adjust to full day elementary school. There had been many functions and events over the course of the school year to foster the relationships between the seniors and their buddies, but this was the first field trip away from the school. Henry and his buddy, Roland Loxley, were very excited because of their shared love of fossils and anything prehistoric. And the fact that Roland was going to be spending the weekend with them while his parents were out of town didn’t hurt either. Emma turned toward her son as he sat himself down at the table. “Nothing better than a good breakfast, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah Mom. I know.” The signature eye roll complete with shrugged shoulders made its way across the face of the twelve year old.

“Most of you probably didn’t even notice, but we had a small earthquake this morning. The US Geological Survey reported a 2.8 magnitude earthquake centered under Beverly Hills at 4:37am.”

“Why are they even talking about this? It didn’t even wake me up! Think fast Henry! What do you do in an earthquake?” Emma asked him, placing his plate in front of him.

“Get under a door frame, put my head between my legs, and kiss my ass goodbye.” Henry then dug in to his eggs and toast with all the gusto of a teen boy who hadn’t been fed in 8 hours or more. Emma rolled her eyes as she sat down to her own plate, deciding the argument over his language wasn’t worth having this morning. The eggs and the rest of his breakfast were soon gone and she wondered if the clothes she’d bought him for this spring would still fit him come the end of March.

“Gotta go Mom. I’ll call you when Roland and I get home from the field trip.” Henry grabbed his bookbag from where it was hung on his chair and made his way toward the door, opening it to find his friends waiting to walk to the bus with him.

“Bye, kid. Have fun and make sure to keep track of Roland!” she shouted as she heard him greet them before they headed down the hallway.

Gulping down the rest of her coffee, Emma got up from the table and thought about the day she had ahead of her at the Office of Emergency Management; the next-to-last day before a two week long vacation that she and Henry had been looking forward to for months. Putting the dirty dishes in the sink - They can wait to go in the dishwasher - Emma grabbed her purse and phone just as it started ringing. Emma’s best friend and assistant Ruby’s name flashed on the screen before she swiped across it.

“What’s up Rubes? Isn’t it a little early for you to be calling me?” Emma shut and locked the door behind her as she walked down the hall toward the elevator. “I’m getting in the elevator, so I’m gonna lose you here in a second. I’ll call you when I get in the car.” Emma hung up as Ruby sputtered. Once in her car and headed toward downtown, she dialed Ruby back.

“Emma,” Ruby didn’t even say hello, and the urgency in her voice was very apparent as Emma sped down the I-10. “There’s some kind of leak near the intersection of Wilshire and Fairfax. Where they’re working on the red line. Paramedics are on their way, but the supervisor of the work crew is saying that 2 men have very serious burns. He’s pretty shaken up Ems.”

Ruby’s words trailed off and Emma heard a disturbing sound coming from the other end of the line. “What’s that sound?”

“The supervisor,” Ruby replied with a tone of disgust. “Expelling what was left of his breakfast.”

Emma frowned. “I’ll be to the Fairfax exit in about 10 minutes. Load up WOLF and meet me there.”

“You got it boss,” Ruby replied before hanging up.

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

“What’s going on?” Emma shouted as she got out, slamming the door of her vintage yellow bug behind her.

Ruby pulled up right behind her in their equipment truck, affectionately nicknamed WOLF. Jumping out and taking long strides to catch up, Ruby commented, “Just before the call came in, the Geological Survey measured a 2.2 earthquake centered under the tar pits.”

Emma stopped, startled at what she had just said. “What? The tar pits?”

“Yeah,” Ruby replied. “Not enough to be felt, but close enough to here that maybe they’re connected?” Emma could feel the blood drain from her face, and based on the way Ruby was looking at her the she noticed it, too. Grabbing her arm, Ruby asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“What?” Emma shook her head. “Oh, Henry is going on his Kindergarten Buddy field trip to the pits today. An earthquake underneath them isn’t exactly what a mother wants to hear.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” her friend said. “I mean, after all, if we discover that there is any real danger to the public, we’ll shut down both the pits and museum. Come on. Let’s see if we can figure out what happened here.”

Emma and Ruby made their way to the crest of the hill where they saw orange work crew tape around the open maw of the entrance to the sewer and subway workstations down below. Off to the side they also saw emergency vehicles and paramedics working feverishly over a body that, from this distance, was unrecognizable as human. As they ran down the hill, they could already see a black body bag being zipped up. Just catching a glimpse of the charred body within was enough for Emma’s breakfast to roll in her stomach and for Ruby to lose hers completely. Swallowing down the bile, Emma asked, “What happened here?”

The white-as-a-sheet man wearing a supervisor’s vest turned toward her and seeing her department issued jacket, swallowed heavily before answering. “We’re doing routine maintenance on the red line. Munk, Ham, and Foster over there were down there with Ramirez and Franks.” If possible, the man before her went even more pale as he gestured toward the paramedics. “Kitchens and I were up here.” The man gulped again. “W-w-we could hear the screams from here.”

“I’m so sorry.” Emma laid her hand on the shaken man’s shoulder. “I truly am, but I have to figure out what happened here so I can direct city resources if need be.”

“You’d best talk to one of them then,” he replied, lifting his chin in the direction of the men he’d just mentioned. His wide, frightened eyes made their way back to where one of the paramedics was sitting back on her haunches.

“Time of death,” she said, glancing at her watch, “8:22 am.”

Emma made her way over to the men the supervisor had pointed out. “I’m Emma Swan from the Office of Emergency Management. Can you tell me what happened?”

The tall, sandy haired man pointed to himself then his companions, “Mark Munk, Hollis Ham, Sam Foster.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” She grimaced, looking away. “Wish it was under better circumstances. What happened down there?”

“We were heading toward to maintenance platform. Franks and Ramirez were in front, then Ham and Foster, then me. It was hot. So hot.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if he was relishing the cool morning air. “We couldn’t see much. All we had were our flashlights and helmets,” he trailed away, turning toward his companions.

Foster picked up the story then. “It was hot, but once we felt the earthquake stop, the heat was much worse.”

“You felt the earthquake? It was only 2.2!” Emma exclaimed.

“Yeah, we could feel it. Nothing major, but enough. Once it stopped, the heat really intensified. Franks and Ramirez were really having a hard time with it. It sounded like they were having trouble breathing, gasping and stuff, then they were hollering and fell down. It looked like they were trying to rip their clothes off. Ham and I grabbed them under their arms and dragged them back toward the ladder. It was so hot by then, none of us could hardly breathe.”

“We got back up topside,” Ham continued, “Hernandez had already called the paramedics.” His eyes widened as he saw the second body bag being zipped up over his coworker. “I’ve… I’ve never seen…” He turned away, hunched over as a barking sob escaped him.

Ruby had returned from cleaning herself up by this time, just as Ham finished his part of the tale. Emma turned toward her. “Ok, we need PPE and the thermal radiation temperature gun. We’ve got to go down there and see what’s what.”

“On it,” Ruby replied turning back toward the truck.

“Thank you very much gentlemen. You’ve been a great help.” She looked at each of them in turn. “I’m very sorry for the loss of your coworkers.”

Turning away from them, Emma headed back toward Ruby and WOLF. Arriving at the truck, Emma climbed in after Ruby as she was getting down the Personal Protection Equipment they’d need before they went underground. “It sounds like the earthquake may have had something to do with it, but whether it did or not, what those men felt down there, and was enough to kill two of them, certainly needs to be looked at.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna get any argument out of me, Emma.” The fear that Emma was also feeling was well banked behind the determination in the brunette’s eyes. Determination that Emma felt as well. “We can’t let this happen to anybody else.” Ruby took down the thermal radiation gun as she spoke, turning toward her friend.

“Agreed,” she said, “let’s go.”

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

“Damn! They weren’t kidding! What’s the temperature down here?” Emma shouted at Ruby as she made it to the bottom of the ladder.

“117° according to the gun,” Ruby hollered back.

“Ok, let’s go. I don’t know how far we can go before we have to turn back. This is something else!”

“No kidding! 132° and climbing fast!” Ruby shouted. She took a few steps forward. “I’ve got a reading here!” Shaking her head while studying the screen intently, Ruby said, “There’s some sort of fissure here. Gas and… something… I can’t tell what exactly… 748°!” Ruby’s eyes went as round as saucers. Her mouth falling open in an ‘o’. “EMMA! Back! Get back!” Ruby screamed, “Your suit is melting!”

Upon hearing Ruby’s scream, she noticed the smoke rising from both suits. “So is yours! We’ve gotta get out of here!” They both took off running toward the ladder; neither of them had realized they had moved about 15 feet away from its rungs. Reaching it, they both clamored to the top, collapsing onto the grass around the workstation.

Gulping in huge gasps of air as they tore off their helmets and suits, both women stared at each other wide eyed as Hernandez ran up toward them. “What?! What did you find? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah we’re fine,” Emma answered, still breathing heavily. “There’s a fissure down there. Hot gas and something else coming up out of it.” Raising herself onto her elbows, she started pointing all around the park they were in. “This Park needs to be evacuated. The red line needs to be shut down from South La Brea Avenue to South Crescent Heights. And get me the Geological Survey on the line. A geologist. Someone who can tell me what the hell is going on down there!”

Ruby scrambled away down the hill as soon as she was recovered enough to move. “Yes ma'am!”

Emma collapsed back on to the grass, before making her way to her feet and down the hill herself. Emma shook her head. Well, my day just got about a hundred times more crazy. Henry and the group should be at the tar pits by now. Should we shut them down? No. We’re far enough away from them, there’s not a concern for their safety. Yet. I’ll wait until I talk to the Geological Survey. Then decide.

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

“Good morning! My name is Killian Jones, and I’ll be the docent leading your tour of the La Brea tar pits today.” Killian looked out over the sea of about thirty faces, some bored, some looking anywhere except at him, and maybe five or six looking at him at least halfway interested.

He enjoyed volunteering at the tar pits on his day off from the US Geological Survey. Especially when the kids were already in love with the things he was going to be talking about. I mean, how can you not love a kid who can correctly pronounce Paramylodon Harlani? The two brown haired boys at the front of the group however, stared at him with rapt attention. Brothers maybe?

“We’ll be starting our tour in just a few minutes. As soon as the group ahead of us moves through. In the meantime, feel free to look over the masks from the PaleoIndian village in the display case on your right.”

The crowd moved over to the case, all except the two boys who did not seem eager to lose their places at the front of the group. “I’m Roland Loxley,” the little one said holding his hand out for Killian to shake.

“Well, hello there Roland,” Killian answered, a grin breaking out over his face as he reached out to grasp his hand. The kid had a surprisingly strong grip for one so small. “It’s nice to meet you. Is this your big brother?” he asked turning his attention to the older one.

Roland giggled and cut his eyes toward him as the older boy looked embarrassed. “No, he’s my buddy, Henry.”

“Oh, I see! It’s nice to meet you too, Henry,” Killian said, holding his hand out for him to shake as well. Henry looked a bit surprised as he took Killian’s hand in his own and shook.

“You too,” he replied. The glint he had noticed in the boy’s eye a few minutes earlier was back as he asked, “Do we get to go inside the fossil lab today?”

“Ah ha! Do we have a future paleontologist in our midst? Or a geologist maybe?” Killian’s delight at his speculation was hard to disguise as Roland looked to be prepping for takeoff, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hand in the air like Horseshack from Welcome Back Kotter, Killian’s favorite late night binge show on Hulu.

“Ooo! Ooo! Me! Me! Me! I’m gonna be a paleontologist when I grow up! I have my very own Smilodon fatalis tooth at home! And a fossilized Venerupis philippinarum! And a Carcharocles megalodon tooth too!” Roland exclaimed. Poor Henry looked absolutely mortified at Roland’s excitement.

“Roland, can’t you please shut up?” the boy hissed, glancing back at Killian apologetically.

“Ahh! A saber tooth cat, clam, and giant shark tooth, huh? Well, it looks like you’re well on your way to a brilliant future in paleontology my boy,” he said, placing his hand on Roland’s shoulder. Turning back to Henry, Killian returned to his original question as most of the group started making their way back towards them. “Unfortunately, we will not be going inside the fossil lab today, but we will observe some of our scientists working in it. We will be on the observation deck outside. We will also be visiting the Lake Pit, Observation Pit, Project 23, and the Pleistocene Gardens. After lunch, we’ll enjoy the Ice Age Encounters and Titans of the Ice Age in the 3D theater. Is everybody ready?” he asked, getting everyone’s attention again, “Let’s go!” Killian swung his arm expansively as though to draw them all along and turned on his heel leading the way toward the first stop of their tour.

“Sorry about Roland’s enthusiasm earlier,” Henry halfway mumbled after he caught up with Killian. “He’s a cute kid, and he loves anything prehistoric, but he just doesn’t know when to turn it off.” Henry shrugged, while glancing over at his buddy chattering a mile a minute about how much he was looking forward to seeing the Columbian mammoth skeleton named Zed. “I mean, I love fossils and the Ice Age too and even have my own collection at home, much bigger than his,” he rolled his eyes, then glanced over at Killian obviously trying to gauge how his revelation was being received, “but I can at least control myself so I don’t look like an idiot.”

Killian chuckled, realizing that Henry was just as excited and enthusiastic about this field trip as Roland was, and was maybe a teeny bit jealous at being overshadowed by someone he saw as not as well versed in Ice Age history.

Killian looked down at the boy as they kept walking toward the Observation Pit. “Well, Henry, he’s young. And over-the-top enthusiasm is par for the course at that age. But I get it. I have an older brother that wanted to put a muzzle on me on a daily basis whenever I’d get wound up over something when we were kids. But keep in mind, that you have the same interest in what he is so enthusiastic about. You are in a very unique position to encourage that love or to quash it. He obviously idolizes you.”

“Really?” Henry asked, wide eyed. “How do you know?”

“Haven’t you noticed how almost every time he opens his mouth, he’s looking at you?” Killian replied.

“Oh… no, I guess I hadn’t. Well, all right. I’ll try not to let his enthusiasm get to me so much then.” The pensive look on Henry’s face evaporated as he looked up at him and smiled.

“That’s the spirit, lad!” Killian returned the smile and placed his hand on Henry’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze in support.

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

“What do you mean ‘he’s not there’?” Ruby shouted into the phone at the unfortunate underling who was bearing the full weight of her wrath at Dr. Killian Jones’ absence. “Where is he? Isn’t this his full time job? We have something major happening underneath the tar pits today, and he needs to be here! Not galavanting around on his ‘day off’!” Ruby put air quotes around ‘day off’ as if the person on the other end of the line could see them. “There are two city workers who are dead this morning and my boss and I were nearly killed as well because of whatever is going on down there! Does he have an assistant? Anyone who might know where he is?” The other end of the phone went silent for a moment while Ruby huffed out her frustration.

The phone was picked back up again and a masculine Irish accented voice spoke. “This is Graham Humbert, Killian’s assistant. What can I do for you, ma’am?”

Ruby tried to roll back her irritation by taking a deep breath and beginning again. “This is Ruby Lucas, assistant to Emma Swan, director of the Office of Emergency Management. There is something going on under the tar pits. Something major. I’m sure you know about the earthquake a couple of hours ago. After it stopped, two city maintenance workers were killed because of leaking gas and something else, something burning that nearly melted Emma’s and my PPE suits off of our bodies. We need Dr. Jones down here to figure out what is coming up out of the fissure we found. Where can we find him?”

“He’s actually at the tar pits today,” Graham replied. “There was a huge school group coming today, and all docents were called up to work today. He normally volunteers on the weekend, but with the size of the group…” he trailed off.

“All right. Thank you very much for your help, Mr. Humbert.” Ruby was texting the information to Emma before she even hung up with the man.

“No problem, Ms. Lucas. Once you find him, I’m sure we’ll all be in touch.” The phone line went dead while Ruby continued to compose her message.

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

Emma had stayed at the park overseeing the evacuation and rerouting the red line to avoid as much disruption to the transit schedule as possible when Ruby’s text came in.

Dr. Killian Jones is at the tar pits today volunteering because of the field trip.

Glancing at her phone to see what Ruby had found out, Emma continued her litany. “This way. Thank you for your cooperation. Everything is perfectly safe, this is only a precaution. Thank you, this way please.” When she got to the end of the line, she jogged over to one of her coworkers. “The geologist we need is at the tar pits today. I’m going to head over there to find him.”

Taking off at a slight jog down the hill, Emma pondered what she would find at the tar pits when she got there. Will there be any sign of what’s going on over here? Or under there? Just how big was the tour group for the head geologist with the US Geological Survey to be called up to work when there’s this kind of activity going on?

When she arrived at the picnic area outside the museum it was filled to capacity with kids and adults enjoying lunch in the late winter sunshine. Scanning over the teeming area, she spotted Henry and Roland sitting with a very attractive dark haired man she didn’t recognize as another parent or their teacher. Henry spotted her and waved shouting, “Mom! Hey Mom! Over here!”

The man looked up at her and seemed to choke on his sandwich, turning bright red as he tried to bring the coughing fit under control. Henry turned surprised eyes on him as the man tried to wave aside his concern all while Roland stood up on the bench and was beating him, very enthusiastically, on the back.

“You okay, Killian?” Henry asked.

“Fine lad, just went down the wrong pipe,” he replied, still trying to get his breath back. The huskiness of the accented voice did something crazy to Emma’s insides, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the gorgeous man’s voice sounded similar in the throes of passion. Down girl, she thought as she approached the table. He had black hair that looked artfully mussed, or he may have just had a habit of running his hands through it. Dark scruff lined his jaw with just a hint of ginger that she could see from where she was. He looked tall and lean in dark jeans, brown boots, and a blue henley underneath a black leather jacket.

“Hi Henry. Who’s this?” And why are you having lunch with my son went unspoken as she turned her gaze upon him, sending him into another coughing fit, all while scratching behind his ear.

“This is Killian, our d-, do-...”

“Docent,” Killian rasped out. He had finally gotten his coughing and breathing under control enough to speak.

“Docent,” Henry echoed. “He’s leading our tour today. We saw the mammoth skeleton and the fossil lab, and Project 23, the actual working dig Mom! It was so cool! I’m gonna work there when I grow up!” he gushed.

“Aye,” Killian replied still clearing his throat, “it’s kids like them that make the volunteering so worthwhile. Bright, inquisitive, with enough knowledge already to really make it fun. And there’s been a lot of that today hasn’t there lads?” he asked. The grin that split Henry’s face told Emma all she needed to know about how his morning went.

Emma smiled at her son’s enthusiasm. “Well, it sounds like you’ve had a great time today, kid.” Emma turned toward Killian, who was also smiling widely at the boys before he turned his blue eyes upon her. Emma was stopped in her tracks as she recognized the joy and affection in their depths. Affection, she realized, that was directed toward the two boys next to him. She shook her head briefly to get her thoughts back on track. “Did he say your name was Killian? You wouldn’t by any chance be Dr. Killian Jones would you?” she asked.

“That’s me,” he replied. “Can I help you with something?” he asked, standing from the table and extending his hand toward her. His azure gaze ran up and down her form, leaving a pleasant tingle in its wake, but when his eyes met hers, she saw nothing but openness and appreciation in his gaze. Not the greedy lust that she was normally subject to when checked out like that. She appreciated the distinction.

Emma grasped his hand firmly in her own as she answered him. “Just the man I’m looking for.” Killian flushed bright red again at her statement as he glanced away from her. “Emma Swan with the Office of Emergency Management. I need you.” That last statement seemed to send him into yet another coughing fit before he was able to bring it back under control.

“You need me?” he squeaked, about an octave too high, his face still flushed red, eyes wide.

“Well, I need your expertise.” Emma was secretly delighted at his apparent attraction, but schooled her features as she prepared to drop a very serious problem in the handsome man’s lap. “There have been two small earthquakes today. The second of them was centered here at the tar pits and is most likely responsible for the deaths of two city workers this morning. My assistant and I found a fissure underground near MacArthur Park, and the heat coming out of it nearly melted the suits we had on. We need you to figure out what is coming out of that fissure and help us manage this.”

Killian blanched and sat back down at the table. “I can’t leave right now…” he trailed away, obviously trying to figure a way out of the dilemma. “The school group is too big. I can’t…” He shook his head. “I can’t hand my group off to another docent, and there’s no one to take my place. Let me get my assistant on the phone and see what he can do. I’ll be done here in about an hour and a half,” he said, glancing at his watch, “and I can join you… where, exactly?”

“At the Office of Emergency Management, across the street from City Hall,” Emma stated.

“Barring any mishaps along the way, I should be there about three,” Killian replied. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started dialing. “Graham, we have a situation down here at the tar pits. I need you to get to the Office of Emergency Management, across from City Hall and find-” he turned his eyes back toward Emma.

“Ruby Lucas, my assistant,” she whispered to him.

“Ruby Lucas… Right,” he said, after a pause to listen. “What’s her number,” he whispered back to her.

She wrote Ruby’s number on a napkin that he repeated back into the phone. “I’ll meet you all there as soon as I’m done here. Probably about three.” Killian paused again. “Okay, I’ll see you then.” Killian put the phone back in his pocket. “Graham will get down there and find your assistant. They can get preliminary data pulled up, and they’ll have a better idea of what we’re looking at by the time I get there.” Killian’s cerulean gaze met her own. The seriousness of the situation was not lost on either of them as Henry interrupted the unspoken moment.

“What’s happening, Mom? Did you say two workers died, and you nearly did because of what’s happening here?” Henry’s brown eyes were way too bright, Emma realized, for him to not have been affected by what he heard her say.

Damn… he always was too smart for his own good. I should have taken Killian aside before I talked to him. Well, there’s nothing for it... Emma placed her hands on his shoulders. Crouching before him and making sure he was looking in her eyes she answered, “Yes, but I’m fine, and Ruby is fine. We’re gonna do all we can to find out what’s going on here to make sure that no one else is hurt or killed. Okay?”

Henry nodded hesitantly. “O- okay, Mom. Be careful, alright?”

“Always, kid. I love you,” she said, pulling him into her arms and hugging him tight.

“I love you, too,” he murmured into her shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asked, looking at her again.

“I don’t know, kid. It depends on what we find here. When you get home, call me first then Uncle David. He can come stay with you until I get home.” Emma got back on her feet and turned toward Killian as Henry whined.

“Mooooom! I’m twelve years old! I can-” the petulant face of the pre-teen nearly made her laugh, but she smothered it under a light cough. The smirk and raised eyebrows from Killian, indicating that her cough didn’t fool him for a minute, was almost her undoing.

“Exactly, you’re twelve years old and you’re not staying home by yourself for who knows how long.” Emma turned back toward Killian and said, “I’ll head over to the office too, and see you there about three. Let me give you my number, in case something happens and we need to get in touch.” Emma held out her hand expectantly.

A glimmer of glee flashed in Killian’s eyes as he got his phone back out and handed it over to her to type in her number. “Sure, and I’ll only use it in case of an emergency. Although,” he lowered his voice and moved more into her personal space as she typed, "I do hope that when this is all concluded, you might let me keep your number to use in a more... personal fashion."

Emma looked up and handed his phone back to him with a smirk of her own. “We’ll see, Casanova. Take care of my kid. I’ll see you later. Bye Henry. Have fun.” Emma turned away from them and walked away. And if she injected just a slight swing to her hips for Killian’s benefit, then no one needed to know that but her.

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

Killian watched as Emma walked away from him with a swing in her hips that made him grin from ear to ear as he enjoyed the view. Turning back to his group, he called, “Okay everyone. Time to clean up. Make sure all your trash is collected and thrown away. Let’s leave the picnic area better than when we found it.” After cleaning up, the group marched back in to the museum to continue their prehistoric adventure with Ice Age Encounters and Titans of the Ice Age, the 3D movie.

After the movie, Henry and Roland were chattering excitedly with Killian smiling down at them when the ground beneath them started to shake. Killian turned quickly toward the group and shouted to be heard above the din of the shaking building.

“Everyone come over here, follow me, cover your heads with your arms. Adults, cover your own heads and get kids underneath you as best you can.”

Killian led them all to the wall next to the glass case they had examined that morning containing the masks from the PaleoIndian village. As they reached the wall, a particularly violent tremble sent Roland careening forward into the display case. His forehead connected with the corner of the case as the trembling in the earth started to taper off. Roland’s cries were more than enough to compensate for the sudden lack of rumbling underneath them. Killian grabbed Roland up, cradling him in his arms as he looked for where all the blood was coming from.

“Is he okay Killian? Will Roland be okay?” Henry’s scared voice piped up from beside him.

“If his cries are any indication, he’ll be just fine, Henry. We need to get him cleaned up and get some ice on the cut. If he needs stitches, we’ll make sure he gets to the hospital.” Killian turned his back to the door of the bathroom and pushed his way through it, as Roland’s cries only increased in volume, maybe at the prospect of stitches. “Go to the main desk, Henry, and ask for Belle, tell her what happened and that she needs to enact emergency contact protocols for Roland, then ask for an ice pack.” Given his marching orders, Henry disappeared through the door as one of the parents in his group pushed his way in.

“The tour is over right, Killian?” the frightened man asked. “We’re done? Free to go?”

Killian was wetting a paper towel to clean off Roland’s face, as he turned to the man. “Yes, that’s correct. Thank you for your time and attention today. If you would spread the word to the rest of the group, I’d appreciate it,” he said, turning his attention back to the boy. As he got the blood wiped away from his charge’s face, he saw a long, jagged cut just above Roland’s left eyebrow. Henry made his way back into the bathroom with a bag full of ice just then and handed it to the boy. Killian noticed Belle hovering just outside the bathroom.

“Here, put this where it hurts Roland. You’ll be fine,” Henry said, reassuringly.

“Aye, lad. Just a cut. But it looks like it’ll need stitches. I’ll be right back after I talk to Belle.” Killian’s calm gaze was doing a lot to settle both boys down after the fright they’d had.

Killian stood in the bathroom doorway as Belle began, “I’ve contacted Roland’s parents, but after dropping him off at school this morning, they left town for the weekend. He’s staying with Henry and his mother until they get back on Sunday. They gave their consent to go to the hospital if he needs stitches, but I can’t find anyone from the school to take him in all the chaos.”

“Don’t worry about that, Belle. I’ll take him to Cedars Sinai. My mate’s wife works in the Emergency Room. She’s a doctor.”

“Really?” Henry, overhearing, turned wide eyes upon Killian. “My aunt works at the Cedars Sinai Emergency Room too. Maybe they know each other.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye lad. Maybe. Okay. Let’s go.”

Roland’s tears had been reduced to occasional hiccups as Killian hoisted him off the counter. Holding out his hand for the little boy to take, Killian led them out of the building toward the parking lot. He unlocked his classic SS Chevelle and ushered the boys inside, admonishing them to buckle their seat belts before heading toward the hospital.

About ten minutes later they were pulling up outside the Emergency Room bay. Henry and Roland, still with the ice pack pressed to his forehead, climbed out while Killian left to park the car. When he joined them a few minutes later, they made their way inside to the admit desk.

“We’re looking for Dr. Mary Margaret Nolan,” Killian informed the nurse at the desk. He didn’t notice Henry’s wide eyed stare as he spoke.

“She’s with a patient right now, sir. May I ask what this is in regards to?” the red haired nurse questioned him.

“She’s my friend’s wife and-”

“And she’s my aunt,” Henry exclaimed. Killian turned stunned eyes on the boy. The nurse turned her attention to him as well.

“Really?” he questioned.

“Yeah! I told you my aunt worked here in the ER,” he laughed as he realized how low the chances of this happening really were. Killian and the nurse joined in as well.

“Hi, Henry! Who’s this? And what do you need M’s for?” the nurse asked.

“Hi, Ariel!” Henry waved from where he stood. “This is Killian. He led our tour of the La Brea tar pits today. Roland, my buddy here, fell into a display case during the earthquake and Killian thinks the cut needs stitches. Did I say all that right, Killian?” His brown eyes turned upward, brimming with hope that he hadn’t left out anything important.

“Aye, lad. You sure did.” He turned back to the nurse. “Can we see Mary Margaret about those stitches? Or at least let her have a look at him?” he asked.

“Oh sure,” she replied. “Come on through here, and I’ll send her in as soon as she’s done with her patient.”

Just at that moment, a petite black haired woman came out of a door further down, making notations on her iPad.

“Oh, there she is now,” Ariel said to the man and boys behind her.

“Aunt M’s!” Henry shouted, startling the poor woman into nearly dropping the iPad. Henry took off down the corridor toward his aunt as she looked up and saw him running towards her.

“Henry! What are you doing here? And Killian, too,” she exclaimed as she saw them all making their way down the hall.

“A little accident during the earthquake, Mary Margaret,” Killian said amusedly as Henry tackled her, forcing an “oof” out of his target.

“Yeah, we had our buddy field trip to the tar pits today, Aunt M’s,” Henry enthused. “It was so cool, and Killian was our...” he trailed off, looking back at the man he was with.

“Docent, lad,” Killian filled in for him with an indulgent smile.

“Docent. Right. I won’t forget again, Killian.” Henry looked a little sheepish.

“I’m sure you won’t.” Killian chuckled along with Mary Margaret as she showed them into an empty room. “Roland here fell into a display case during the earthquake and sustained quite a nasty cut on his forehead that looked like it might need stitches,” he continued.

“Well, let’s have a looksee, shall we?” she asked, smiling down at the little boy, as she lifted him to the table. Directing her next words to Henry, she inquired, “Did you call your mom? Does she know you’re here?”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “No, I haven’t.”

“Don’t worry about it, Henry. I’ll take care of it,” Killian assured him, “I was supposed to be heading to your mum’s office right now anyway. I’ll let her know what happened, and we’ll go from there.” Killian sent a reassuring smile his way.

“Okay, Killian. Thanks,” Henry replied. Killian slipped out and pulled out his phone dialing Emma’s number.

“Hello?” Emma’s beautiful voice came over the line, causing Killian’s breath to catch just the tiniest bit before he answered her back.

“Emma, it’s Killian Jones. We’ve had a bit of an accident during the earthquake,” he reported, trying to keep his voice as level as possible to keep her alarm to a minimum.

“What?!” she exclaimed. “Is Henry okay?”

“Henry is fine,” he assured the frightened woman. “It was Roland. He fell into a display case, causing a nasty cut to his forehead. We’re all at Cedars Sinai with Roland being seen by none other than your sister-in-law, Mary Margaret Nolan. Who is also my friend’s wife. And, who I gather, must be your brother.” Killian had remembered Emma telling Henry at lunch to call his Uncle David when he got home. When Henry’s relations had come to light, Killian had put two and two together to figure out exactly who belonged to who. Emma laughed delightedly.

“Oh my word! Who would have guessed? That’s hysterical!” Emma declared, trying to bring her laughter under control. Her laugh was infectious and Killian found himself joining in.

“It is. What are the odds, eh?” Killian said, sending her off into more laughter, as he chuckled. “Anyway, what do you want me to do with the boys? I still need to get down there to see what Graham and Ruby have discovered.” Just the mention of the reason behind their meeting and this phone call was enough to bring an end to their mutual mirth.

“Have David pick them up at the hospital and take them home. You or Henry can call him. I know he had meetings about the apartments today, but he should be done with them by now. Then you head down here,” Emma replied. “Ruby and Graham have a very interesting theory that I’m not sure what to think about, but would love your input on.” Killian could almost see the blonde shrug her shoulders through the phone line.

“Okay, love. Mary Margaret is probably about done. I’ll leave here as soon as she is and David gets here. I’ll text when I’m on my way.” Killian hung up and walked back into the room where Henry, Roland, and Mary Margaret were. Henry and Roland sounded like a tag team as they peppered the woman with stories about their day as she finished stitching Roland up. “Henry, I’m going to call your Uncle David to come pick you boys up and take you home. Then I’m going to go meet your mum and we’re going to figure out what’s going on and take care of it, aye?” Killian asked nodding at the boy.

“Sure, Killian. Thanks a lot, for everything,” the boy replied.

“Yeah, thanks Killian,” echoed Roland.

Turning to the boys, Mary Margaret told them, “Stay here. I’m going to go talk to Killian. Uncle David will be here in just a few minutes. He was just across the street at the apartments he’s been working on.” She followed him out into the hallway, forehead furrowed in concern. “What’s this about meeting Emma? What’s going on, Killian? Thank you, by the way though, for taking care of the boys through all this.”

“Oh, of course, M’s,” he answered, putting special emphasis on the syllable while raising his eyebrows at her and grinning.

“Oh, pfft,” she said waving him off, and looking away with a light blush coloring her cheeks. “Mary Margaret was too much for Henry to say when he was a toddler. So we shortened it to M’s and it stuck. Only for family and close friends though,” she said, side-eyeing him closely. “Ehh… I guess you count.” She smirked at him before reiterating her question.

“I’ll have to fill you in on the details later M’s.” Killian’s face fell. “Suffice it to say two men are dead, and Emma was nearly killed today too because of some seismic activity underneath the tar pits.”

The tender-hearted woman gasped, her hand covering her mouth and eyes filling with tears. “Oh, no!”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Killian replied. “So, I need to get down to her office to see what’s going on, and what we can do about it.”

“Of course,” Mary Margaret agreed. “You go ahead and go. I’ll take charge of the boys until David gets here. Tell Emma to keep us updated. I’m off in another hour, so I’ll probably go home with them.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he answered winking at her. “Do you want to call David or do you want me to?”

“I’ll call him. I need to let him know what’s going on anyway.” She pulled out her phone and started dialing. “Thank you, though. Really. It means a lot.” She made sure he was looking at her face so he could see how much she meant the words she was saying.

Killian looked at her, but had to look away from the tenderness and conviction behind her words. “Of course. They really are remarkable lads. They remind me very much of myself and Liam when we were young. I couldn’t do anything different. I’ll see you later.” Before he turned and walked away toward the entrance, he heard David pick up over Mary Margaret’s phone.

“Hey babe! What’s up?”

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

Killian made his way into the Control Center of the Office of Emergency Management amid all the chaos that the day’s events engendered. Spying the long blonde hair that he desperately wanted to run his fingers through, he made his way over to where she, Graham, and the woman he assumed was Ruby Lucas were huddled over a computer monitor and a paper city map of the area around the tar pits. “What have we got?” he asked.

Emma turned startled eyes upon him, “Uh… oh! You’re here. Ruby,” she said, motioning to the tall brunette, “Dr. Killian Jones. Killian, Ruby Lucas, my assistant and right hand.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Jones.” Ruby grinned at him with a wolfish smile as she held out her hand toward him.

“Please, call me Killian. No one calls me Dr. Jones except members of the media,” Killian chuckled as he shook her hand.

“And me, if he’s being especially obnoxious,” Graham interjected, grinning at him, before it melted into more of a shy, sincere smile as he turned his eyes upon Ruby.

“And Graham, if I’m being especially obnoxious,” Killian repeated with humor dancing in his eyes. “So, what have you found out?”

“Okay,” Ruby began, “the last earthquake was a 4.9. That’s up significantly from the earthquakes this morning. Including the one that killed those workers. We may be building up to a catastrophic tremor.”

“Or,” Graham prompted, with a grim expression.

Emma looked at Killian with an expression that had him bracing himself. It was pensive and incredulous all at once. As if she had trouble believing what was about to be said herself, much less saying it out loud as a viable possibility. “What?” Killian asked, “Just tell me.”

Emma started rather haltingly, “The second earthquake this morning opened a fissure in the subway tunnel. Incredibly hot gas and something else, something… liquid… kinda, was coming up out of it by the time Ruby and I got there. After the workers were killed.” She cast dubious eyes toward Graham before continuing. “The temperature reading of the lake in MacArthur Park and underneath the tar pits has increased significantly in the last twelve hours. The lake 6°, the tar pits 10°. Graham says the only thing capable of producing the kind of heat that we saw under MacArthur Park and that could heat that much liquid by that amount in that short a time is…” she trailed off.

Killian and Graham’s eyes met over the ladies. “Magma,” they said together. “Magma would explain the extreme heat you both felt this morning,” Killian continued, “capable of killing two men with no protective gear, and raising the temperatures of the lake and tar pits to that extent that quickly.” He shook his head. “Damn. Have we got our work cut out for us,” he murmured, looking around the room.

“Can’t it be something else?” Emma asked, placing her hand on his arm. Killian tried to ignore the shiver her touch generated across his skin. “Anything else? Do we really need to declare a state of emergency and evacuate that entire sector? That’s a massive undertaking,” she exclaimed.

“The first thing we need to do is confirm. Get a first hand look at what is going on down there. From there, we make the call to evacuate or not and mobilize city resources,” Killian stated.

“You can’t go down there Killian.” The fear in her eyes was palpable. “Ruby and I have already been down there. We nearly died down there. We saw and felt it. I know magma makes the most sense given the facts, but…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “It’s… it’s MAGMA! As in, a VOLCANO! UNDER Los Angeles! It CAN’T be!”

“When the facts all point to a certain thing, even if that certain thing should be impossible, we have to go with the impossible,” Killian asserted. He shook his head. “We have to follow the facts. We can’t try to make the facts fit our preconceived notions.”

“But-”

“No, Emma. There is no ‘but’. This is the conclusion that the facts are leading us to. This is what we have to go with. There is no other possibility. Graham and I will go down to confirm what we’re seeing here. We’ll be in constant contact by radio. Our equipment is more suited to handle the kind of temperatures we may find down there. We’ll be fine,” he said, grasping her arms and looking into her eyes. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving, love. We won’t do anything stupid.”

Emma snorted before looking up into his piercing blue gaze. “You know, the argument could be made that what you’re suggesting is stupid,” she said with a frown and a determined set to her shoulders. “But I’m not letting you go down there by yourself.”

“I won’t be by myself. Graham will be with me,” Killian replied.

“No, Graham needs to stay here to analyze the data in real time,” Emma argued, “Ruby can mobilize the city resources under my authority. But Graham is gonna be the one to pull the trigger on whether we need to or not.” Her flashing eyes and stubborn stance told Killian that he was likely to lose this battle, but he put up a fight anyway. He didn’t want her anywhere near what might be happening.

“It’s too dangerous, love. If Graham is right, I don’t want to put you in harm’s way.” He poured the concern he felt for her into his eyes, hoping that she would read it. He saw a flash of hesitation in hers before the stubbornness he had already witnessed settled back in place. “You said yourself that you saw and felt what was down there already-”

“And you said that your equipment is better suited for the temperatures you might find down there,” Emma retorted, “The thermal gun said 748° when we turned back.”

“Our equipment is rated up to 1000°.” Killian tried again.

“Well then, there you go.” Emma crossed her arms, her smug attitude telling him he had lost. “Graham has to stay here and you’re not going by yourself. I have training. I am the best choice.”

“Fine,” Killian acquiesced, after a long moment, his lips pressed in a thin line, “but you listen up and listen good,” he said, getting in her personal space and pointing his finger at her, “I am the boss down there. Not you. You do exactly as I say, when I say it.” While he felt successful in keeping the fear from tingeing his words, he was afraid that he was unable to keep it out of his eyes. She must have noticed because she tried to inject some levity into the situation.

“Aye aye, sir,” she said, with a smart salute and smirk. Killian rolled his eyes as he tried not to smile and turned back toward Graham and Ruby.

Just at that moment, the ground started to shake again. Killian and Graham grabbed the ladies as they all tried to cover their heads and dive under the desks. Emma clutched at Killian as he drew her into his embrace and tried to cover her with his body. Once the shaking stopped, they all came out from their cover and made their way quickly to where the readings for the earthquake were already coming up. “4.6,” Killian said, turning toward the others. “Not as bad as the one a little while ago, but significant all the same.” Emma and Ruby exchanged worried glances before looking back at Killian. “This changes nothing,” Killian asserted, “We still have to go underground and confirm what is happening. We’ll drop off more sensors at the tar pits on our way to MacArthur Park, then head underground where you found the fissure this morning. Graham’s computer will be connected remotely with my suit and equipment.”

“Right,” Ruby replied, looking at the man next to her with a tentative, but genuine smile. “And we’ll still be able to communicate?” she asked, turning back toward Killian.

“Yes,” he answered. “We have radios in the suit that will allow us to talk back and forth through the computer. Everything from the suit will show up right here in real time. Ready, Swan?” he asked.

“Ready,” she answered, nodding.

“Alright, let’s suit up.”

End of part 1