#now give me feral andrew

[purpleshadow-star]

Contrary to popular belief I think Andrew has the "technically you can't prove that I can die until I do die; I am immortal until proven mortal" mentality rather than Neil. Because Neil was on the run doing everything in his power to make sure he didn't die, then he went through the whole book series thinking he would die at the end, while Andrew is literally just some guy who decided he could take on the literal yakuza like...

[arlh0e]

I'm not sure if you're taking requests but I figured I'd try. I've had the idea of Hozier/Andrew finding out you have an oral fixation/kink and using against you until you're a brain dead mess. I came to Tumblr to see if I could find anything but it surprisingly doesn't have a ton of Hozier fics considering he's basically everyone's dream man.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading this!!

Moments silence (common tongue)

Oh my god I love this idea! Im so glad Ive been getting smut requests because Im relatively new to smut writing so I adore being able to practice. My apologies in advance if this is super awkward to read bc I was having trouble trying to figure out how to describe homies dick. It also may turn out to be a little long, I am a whore for sucking dick so pardon me if I get excited and carried away.

Rating: Hozier x reader, graphic smut, hard dom! Andrew, oral m! And fem! Receiving, face fucking, the sloppiest of sloppy blowjobs, oral fixation, smut under the cut, general filth, plotless smut, reassurance, begging, choking, help I need him

You were squirming beneath him, his tongue and fingers working their usual magic.

He loved going down on you, your pleasure was his top priority every time that he took you to bed, he absolutely loved making you feel good.

You hadn’t told him that you had a similar affinity with giving him the same pleasure. Of course, he knew you loved the act of giving, but to what extent he wasn’t fully aware of.

If you were honest, it was almost concerning how constantly you were thinking about the feeling of your mouth around him. It made you so wet that you had ruined more pairs of underwear than you were comfortable admitting. He made your mouth water and your mind go nearly completely blank with anything other than want for him.

You feel his fingers move from inside of you, his head lifting to meet your eyes. His pupils are dilated and you can see your arousal covering his lips. He looked utterly enchanting.

His hand moves toward your bottom lip, tapping it softly twice. “Open.” His voice is deeper than normal and his accent has thickened. You opened your mouth and let him push his fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. You find yourself sucking gently on his fingers, moving your tongue across his digits, wishing it were his cock in your mouth instead.

You let out a moan as his fingers leave your mouth, not even processing the words you were saying. “If you don’t let me suck your dick right now I may just lose my mind.” Your voice was coming out in gasps and moans, you were desperate, bordering on feral.

He quirked a brow at you, smiling smugly down at you. “Oh, is that right?” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, pulling away just slightly so that you could still feel his breath across your face, your noses were still touching. “I was wondering when you were going to tell me about this little fixation you have with putting your mouth on me.” He chuckled darkly, looking at you through hooded eyes.

You couldn’t even say you were surprised at this revelation. Of course he knew. You expected nothing less, and honestly you hadn’t exactly been secretive about it, you hadn’t ever tried to hide it, so of course he knew.

He moved his head away from yours, his fingers coming to your chin, squeezing it gently. “I want you to beg.” His tone was serious, leaving no room to argue.

Your gaze shifted around the room, your eyes darting everywhere but his face as you felt the blush creep onto your face through your neck. You weren’t necessarily embarrassed, but you hadn’t ever told anyone about this particular interest of yours. The idea that he not only kew but was asking you to beg for it was entirely foreign to you. It made you squirm a bit beneath him.

“Ah ah.” He pulls a bit on your chin, forcing you to look back at him. “Eyes on me. Use your words.” His gaze was intense but encouraging, loving. He wanted to hear you ask nicely, but he also wanted you to feel comfortable. You knew he wouldn’t push you to do anything you didn’t want to.

“Please?” You looked up at him with wide eyes, batted your eyelashes just a little bit. “Pretty, pretty please?”

He chuckled a bit, smiling down at you, his mask cracking just a little bit. “With a cherry on top?” You loved the way he could go from this powerful, dominant being to his normal goofy self like this sometimes.

“Of a most delicious sundae.” You smile back at him, sticking your tongue out for a half second.

He just kept smiling down at you, his hold on your chin still firm. “Well I cant argue with that.” He stands, still clothed from the waist down, pulling you up to sit before him. Your hands stayed folded in your lap as you looked at him, standing before you, hands at his sides. “Go ahead, love.”

You slowly slip off the side of the bed and onto your knees in front of him. You could see the outline of his erection through his jeans, and you wondered for a second if that was uncomfortable. Surely it had to be.

You move your hands to fiddle with the button on his pants, frantically trying to undo the button and zipper. You always had a bit of trouble getting his hand pants all the way off of him, with how long his legs were, you couldn’t quite get them off, he always had to help you.

You took a moment to look at him, completely bare before you. He was beautiful, like a divine being come down to earth, and he was all yours.

You raise one hand to wrap it gently around his shaft while you used your tongue to wipe to bead of precum from his tip. The taste was salty and a bit bitter, but one you enjoyed nonetheless.

You carefully took him into your mouth, just a little bit at first, working up the nerve to try to go farther, moving slowly at first focusing on using your tongue to further his pleasure, hollowing your cheeks around him as you bobbed your head up and down along his length.

His hand flew to the back of your head, taking a fist full of your hair as his head leaned back and he let out a deep groan. He gently pushed on the back of your head, urging you to take him deeper and deeper.

You loved hearing the noises you could illicit from him, the way he gasped and tugged on your hair when you would moan in satisfaction around him, and you especially loved the louder sounds he would make for you, the way he would tell you how good you were doing and how good he felt. He was so vocal, and every word, noise, and gasp he made, pulled you in more.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good baby.” His voice was low and ever encouraging as he moved his hands through your hair, guiding your head along his cock at a relentless pace. You gagged, taking him farther than you had thought you were capable of.

You felt tears prickling your eyes as he kept bottoming out in the back of your throat, doing your best to keep your mouth closed but failing quite miserably as you continued gagging on him.

You found yourself struggling slightly to breathe between the saliva that was running down your chin and the pace at which he was hitting the back of your throat.

You moved your hand to tap frantically against his abdomen, wordlessly asking for a break to take a breath. After a few more thrusts, he backs away, his hands still in your hair, but granting you a break as he pulls gently on your hair to angle your head upward meeting his lips with yours.

You smile into the kiss, it was gentle, loving but urgent and nothing short of demanding. You moan into his lips, still smiling. As he pulls away, he makes a point out of observing the grin playing at your lips.

“So eager to please, darling.” He smiles darkly back at you, loosening his grip on your hair. He places another peck to your lips, then your forehead. “Do you want some more?” His gaze softened, looking down at you, smoothing your hair, a hint of concern in his eyes. He was making sure you were okay, checking in to make sure he wasn’t going too far or making you uncomfortable.

You nodded back at him, your smile not even faltering for a second. “Yes, please.” Your voice was raw, it felt like you had swallowed sand paper, and your voice cracked, but you didn’t even care. You wanted more of him. You wanted him to use you for his pleasure until you couldn’t speak or think or even breathe, and you were already halfway there.

You rose up higher on your knees, moving your hands to his hips, pulling him closer to you in an attempt to take him back into your mouth. You were met instead with a hand at the base of your neck, stopping you. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to let you have what you wanted.

He chuckled and moved his fingers to hold your chin once again, this time pulling you to your feet in front of him. “Uh uh. Lay down.” He removes his hand from your chin roughly, causing you to lose your balance and fall back onto the bed.

He makes his way around the bed to the side closest to your head, leaning over you, placing yet another kiss on your lips. “If you want me to stop, lap twice on my right thigh, alright?” You nod quickly, understanding where this is going, and quite eagerly scoot yourself to the end of the bed, your head dangling upside down over the side, your mouth falling open to welcome him.

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, moving his hands to rest on either side of your shoulders, bending himself over you as he pushes himself back into your mouth, deeper than before.

You let out a moan as the same time you hear him groan from over you. “Jesus fucking christ, love.” He curses, thrusting his hips into your mouth once again, starting slow and gradually picking up the pace.

He moves his hands to wrap around your neck, feeling himself move inside your throat. You were breathless, gasping in between his thrusts, chocking on his cock as well as your own saliva, gagging as he used you. Your hands were holding the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer to you, but also to ground yourself.

You were loving every moment of this. Relishing in the moment and the fact that you could deliver pleasure to him this way. You were utterly enchanted by him, his sounds, the curses he let out, the feeling of him moving in and out of your throat, you couldn’t think of any reason as to why you hadn’t told him this earlier.

With every second you could feel him coming closer, you also felt yourself becoming less and less able to think of anything but him. You were all but mindless, unable to form a single coherent thought, only embellishing in the feeling of his muscles, tensing all as once and then relaxing.

You tasted that same, familiar salty taste as you heard him breathlessly curse one final time before pulling out of your mouth and kneeling down next to your head.

You swallowed before offering him a dopey smile, still not fully in your right mind, high off the feeling of being useful to him.

He smiles back, standing up once again, this time to move you toward the pillows at the head of the bed, before laying himself next to you and gathering you in his arms.

“I take it we’ll be doing that again?” He smiles down at you and places a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes. A lot.” You giggle as you curl up into his arms, closing your eyes and letting his arms completely encase your frame.

Dom Andrew is my favorite Andrew to write tbh. Thank you for the request, hope you enjoyed it <3

[palmettoshenanigans]

also ALSO-

I know the old "AFTG is badly written" jokes but hold the FUCK on for one goddamn second

I have been writing for almost 20 years. I got my college degree in English and the only reason my specialization wasn't creative writing is because I had bad time management skills and missed my chance to do my final creative writing workshop. I'm autistic and Storycrafting and Wordsmithing are my special interests. I understand writing pretty well.

AFTG opened my fucking eyes to a blind spot of the utter craftsmanship of writing sticky characters that infect you with brain worms, and here it is:

The Conflict of Material and Form

AKA the Character Creation version of Nature versus Nurture

"This isn't who I truly am. This is who I've had to become, what I've had to fashion myself into to survive. The original me is buried in there somewhere, if only you knew how to look. If only you knew to look beyond the mask."

Easily exemplified with our fave lil guys-

Neil Abram Josten:

Material: smartass with a smart mouth, attitude problem, cares about people deeply, sharp tongue to cut a bitch with, kinda feral, a lil unhinged, oblivious idiot

Form: quiet and hidden, liar liar pants of fire, run rabbit run, docile and tame, hyper-vigilant and hyper-observant

Andrew Joseph Minyard:

Material: caring, protective, strong sense of justice, gentle even, cares deeply, give me sugar or give me death, yearning

Form: cold, apathetic, ruthless and unforgiving, allow me to introduce you to my knife, regret? don't know her, i want nothing nothing nothing

Why am I using 'material and form' instead of 'nature and nurture'? Because I am a subscriber to "Characters are not meant to be real people; they are mirages of real people meant to encapsulate a function or idea that serves the story". But use whatever terms click with your noggin.

This isn't about 'want vs need'. This isn't about 'lie believed and truth learned'. This is about Presentation and Basic Action - how would this character react here? Which part are they reacting from?

With Material vs. Form, one isn't the 'true' version and the other the 'false' version of the character. They are both true and real in their own right. The Secret Sauce is that the Material and the Form fight 1v1! And regardless of which part wins, there will be consequences and rewards; so which rewards do we want and which consequences are we willing to suffer? And this fight happens beat by beat, scene by scene, plot point by plot point.

At one point in TFC Neil laments his inability to shut his fucking mouth because his Form of 'don't stand out dipshit' and his Material of 'initiate smartass.exe' are disagreeing with how to respond to his circumstances! It's that fucking meme "My healed and unhealed versions of myself deciding who is going to handle this situation" but as Storycraft!

Now, I don't think this is a new idea by any means. But sometimes to make the essence of an idea truly stick, it must be presented in multiple different ways until one triggers a "Eureka! By Jove! Aha!", and this was the way that truly made this concept stick for me. And why did it stick? Because AFTG is a labor of deep love and passion for Characters and all their complexity and inner machinations, and that depth of devotion had to manifest as some good ass writing somehow my homies in christ.

I have a collection of my favorite Storycrafting Wisdoms and one of them is effectively:

"Put Compelling Characters into a Compelling Situation and see what happens."

And Nora does Compelling Characters beautifully

[angelofsmalldeaath]

Could you write anything about Andrew in his blue jeans. They got my going feral, absolutely loosing my shit

a/n: the blue jeans aren't heavily mentioned but i think they still do play an important part

cw: andrew having a dire desperate crush, very slightly suggestive

it’s thirty minutes until he’s supposed to be on stage. 

he’s in a city he’s played in multiple times, he knows the setlist from back to front, and he’s already thinking about what twists he can put on the songs tonight. the backstage is pretty crowded and bustling; his drummer sits on a chair, idly drumming away to whatever’s playing in his ears at the moment. his bassist has a laugh, chatting with some of the backing singers, a cigarette in one hand.  

he sits and watches. 

he knows she’s far too busy running around from one person to the next, making sure everything is perfect and ready to go. her staff lanyard swishes back and forth every time she dashes past him, and his heart squeezes every time she throws a casual smile at someone else.

“you’re running around like a headless chicken,” he calls out as soon as she’s within earshot. 

she staggers to a stop, looks at him with a raised eyebrow, “yeah, well,” she shrugs, “i have a million last-minute things to look at.”

he knows it’s literally her job, but in this moment, all he wants is for her to sit next to him (better yet, for her to sit in his lap) and just talk to him. about anything and everything. but then a small smile blooms on her face and his heart skips a beat. 

“your pins are all wonky,” she laughs a little and gestures for him to stand up.

it’s become a bit of a habit for him now, wearing the pins crooked by just the slightest. it happened a few months ago on accident when he was rushing, but then he saw how it irked her and how she was dying to fix it. how close they both stood while her fingers worked deftly at aligning them.  

and so now he does it on purpose, wears them just crooked enough to irk her so she would come over and fix them for him. but he has to be careful enough not to do it every time. and on days he wears them perfectly, he constantly dreams about what it would be like to have her hands still brushing against his chest.

“blue jeans today?” she quirks an eyebrow, looking him up and down.

“oh, you know all about my fashion choices, do you?” he teases, trying to compensate for how breathless he feels. a faint scent of jasmine washes over him—her shampoo or her body lotion, he doesn’t know—but his mind has started associating the scent with her and her alone. 

“no…” she trails off, looking at him a little sternly, and he worries a bit that he’s teased at the wrong time.

she was clearly running around, busy with other things backstage and now he’s sprung an additional task on her. he’s worried that he’s come across as a petulant rockstar who needs assistance for as simple a task as this. 

“they look nice on you. better than the black,” she bites her lip to stop herself from smiling and his brain short circuits. 

for one, she’s just teased back, even if it was barely anything. and now all he can think about is biting her lip while holding her in his arms. 

the height difference between them means that every time she looks up at him, it’s through her eyelashes. his lips part slightly, like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. and he can’t; he can’t just go around burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. so he has to collect little bits and pieces of her whenever he can and store them like stolen candy. 

“there,” she says once she’s done and gives him a little pat on his chest, “now you look all handsome again.”

him. handsome. she thinks he looks handsome. he’s sure he has the stupidest, silliest grin on his face.

“oh god, don’t smile at me like that,” she blurts out. it’s rushed, almost a whisper, almost like it wasn’t supposed to be said out loud, but her eyes widen. and she looks away in an instant.

“why?” he feigns arrogance, seamlessly slipping into the confident artist his fans meet, “does my devastatingly handsome smile make you go crazy?”

she rolls her eyes but doesn't take a step back. she doesn't even move her hands from his chest. which is a bit of a problem because his heart is racing. 

“you okay?” she asks and he watches her brows furrow in concern. 

shit. shit. shit. he has to think on his feet, and the only thing he can’t do right now is focus! 

“just nervous about the show?”

it comes out more like a question, and he wants to kick himself for telling such an obvious lie. she knows he has played here like four times before. she knows he has everything rehearsed and ready to go, and whatever amount of nerves he might feel, they’re nowhere near enough to make his chest pound like this. 

she gives him a sceptical look and opens her mouth, about to say something, but someone calls her name. both their gazes snap to see another person on the staff, clipboard in hand, feet tapping impatiently. he feels an instant annoyance because how dare they look at her with anything other than adoration, but then his gaze snaps back to her. 

“i gotta go,” she gives him a small smile. “but good luck out there, you’ll be fantastic.”

he nods absently, like a pathetic idiot. 

“and,” she grins “wear that blue jeans more, will you? it really does look gorgeous on you.” before he knows what’s happening, she stands on her toes and presses a tiny kiss on his cheek. and just like that, she’s gone, running around the set once again. 

in a daze, his fingers come up to lightly touch his cheek. multiple neurons in his body are misfiring, and he feels a bit like he’s about to fall off a cliff. 

he wonders if he should follow her and kiss her hard enough that he will taste her for days. he wonders if she tastes like the cherry lip gloss she uses. then he worries that she’s just a friendly, affectionate person. and finally, he burns with envy that someone out there might be getting a real, proper good-luck kiss from her. 

“alright, mate?” his bassist appears, finally back from a cigarette break, and he has to stop himself from unloading everything on him. 

it’s ten minutes until he’s supposed to be on stage.

and now all he can think about is his blue jeans on her bedroom floor and cherry-flavoured lips. 

[writing-intheundercroft]

The Night Shift

AO3 Link

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian x F!MC

Word Count: 10,206

Rating: T (just some smooches but plenty of angst)

Summary: You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

A/N: Took a break from my long fics this week to deliver a long angsty Seb one shot. I heard Phoebe Bridgers cover Night Shift and became feral over it. Perhaps it needs a smutty part two???

Night One

“I’m so glad you were able to slip away from work for a bit.” Poppy says, pouring tea into your cup.

You smile up at the brunette girl, who still wears her hair in a cropped bob, albeit a bit more fashionable now that you’re in your twenties.  You miss Poppy’s presence in your life, but her career as a mazoologist and yours as a lead healer in the intensive care unit of St. Mungo’s has your schedules rarely crossing.  

“It’s nice to be out in the sunlight,” you say coyly, lifting the cup to your mouth. It's the truth–you haven’t been out to tea with a friend, dressed in a pretty lace gown in what feels like ages.  Your career usually has you in a tightly pulled bun, hair out of your face to focus on your patients, with bloodied aprons.  Magic can heal most ailments, but your ancient abilities make you the best bet for the most gravely wounded.  So much so that you’ve worked six nights a week every week for the past five years, sleeping during the day to make it to your overnight shifts at the hospital.

With few exceptions.

But there’s coverage today, giving you a rare Saturday afternoon off to enjoy the warm spring day.  You and Poppy are sitting outside a tea shop in Diagon Alley, catching up on all things personal, while people watching.  It’s strange, you think, to be surrounded by so many people.  You leave for your shift at seven thirty in the evening, when most people are getting home for dinner, and return to your flat far after everyone has left for work.  

Poppy had just started telling you a story about a wild herd of manticores she’d encountered on her travels abroad, when a familiar face walked up to your table.

“Merlin’s beard, I never thought I’d see the likes of you two ever again,” Andrew Larson grins.

“Andrew,” Poppy smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

There are obligatory kisses on the cheek as the handsome Ravenclaw pulls up a chair. “What are you doing in town, Poppy?”  

“Visiting my gran, of course.” She tilts her head towards you. “And catching up with friends.”

“And you, it’s like you’re back from beyond the grave.” Andrew shifts his attention, teasing you. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just busy keeping people from their graves, that’s all.”

“I’ve heard.” Andrew elbows you. “Youngest lead healer in all of St. Mungo’s.”

“Yet being the youngest earned me the night shift.” You wrinkle your nose.  “And very few days off.”

“How’s the auror office doing?” Poppy quips, leaning her chin into her palm.

Andrew shrugs. “Busy; we’re working on a big case right now, but we finally got a few hours off to enjoy lunch.  I was just heading over to the Cauldron, meeting Sallow and Clopton for a bite.”

You swallow thickly.  It’s been five years since you last spoke to Sebastian Sallow.  At this point, you can’t exactly remember how it ended, except that the two of you had screamed at one another.  You were fairly certain you’d thrown a book at his head, and he’d knocked over your favorite mug in the process. You still had it, the handle broken off, now used as a quill holder at your desk.

“Oi, Larson!  Quit flirting, we’ve just gotten a message. All hands on deck at the office.” 

Both you and Poppy turn to the voice; Everett Clopton is standing a few paces away, wearing a smart suit.  He still has his gold wire glasses, but he’s grown into them. He’s wearing a hat, tipping the brim to you both in acknowledgement.

You hate the way your breath hitches when you see their companion.  Sebastian is also dressed well, sporting a tweed three piece suit, shiny black dress shoes, and a gold auror badge attached to his lapel.  He meets your gaze briefly before looking back up to Andrew, who’s moving the chair back to its proper table.

“Emergency meeting,” Sebastian utters gloomily. “Ruined a good lunch.”

Your stomach twists at the sound of his voice.  It’s no more than six words, but your insides feel like a wet towel being wrung out.  And Sebastian doesn’t even have the decency to look at you, avoiding eye contact with the person he considered his best friend for three years.  The audacity of him, to completely ignore the person who once held his fate in their hands–you feel the bile rising in your throat, swallowing down the anger that once consumed you.

No, you won’t let a tiny interaction with Sebastian ruin five years of hard work.  You stare at the cutlery on the table, willing him to leave.

Andrew Larson sighs, rapping his knuckles against the table. “It was good seeing you girls,” he smiles. “Hopefully I run into you again.”

The three boys–men, rather, you are all twenty three at this point–shuffle away.  

There is a heavy silence between you and Poppy, until she clears her throat.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

You nod, collecting yourself as you smile at her. “Perfectly fine.  It’s been ages, Poppy. We’re all over it.”

She grabs your gloved hand, pulling it towards her.  “You certainly are,” she says playfully, twisting the sparkling bauble on your left ring finger. “It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

“I never get to wear it,” you admit sheepishly. It’s been a month since your engagement, and you’ve hardly worn your ring; your fiance’s parents are perturbed that the announcement hasn’t been posted to the Daily Prophet yet. Despite having courted for the last year and a half, it still feels like everything has moved too fast, like you’ve fallen off your broom mid flight. For the most part, your engagement ring is safely tucked in its box atop your dresser, at the risk of getting bodily fluids on it during your shifts.

“He’s a lucky man.” Poppy echoes, sitting back in her chair. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

You’re doing fine, you think.  You’re at the top of your field.  You have a fine flat in a nice part of London, and a promise from a man that’s kind to you.  The kind of man who waited for you to get off your shift to bring you breakfast, and took you to a nice restaurant on your Friday nights off. You hadn’t expected a pretty ring from him, especially since you only graced him with your presence once a week, but then again, your last relationship had taught you not to expect anything at all.

A flash of brunette hair crosses your mind; you blink away the thought.

“I’m happy.  Very happy,” you say simply, holding your teacup up to your lips again. “So about the manticores…”

You jolt out of bed, a blue wisp of a rabbit bouncing around your bedroom.  It’s rare to get a patronus message at this hour; it can only mean an emergency at the hospital.  It also must be bad, considering they’re calling you in on your day off.

Without another thought, you tumble out of bed, rushing to your wardrobe to pull out your clothes.  Your unit specifically wears a deep purple–dark enough to hide stains.  Your shrug on undergarments and petticoats, and a burgundy gown with a high neckline.  Your hands know exactly how to tighten your hair into a knot within a minute, having perfected the craft over the five years of your career. Your wand is stowed in your dress pocket; you’ll grab an apron at the ward.  Grabbing a fistful of floo powder next to your fireplace, you step in, yelling out for St. Mungo’s.

The ward is in a flurry as you step out of the flames.  A nurse hands you a white cotton apron, which you wrap around your waist as you hold your wand between your teeth.  There are men all over, gashed and bleeding, as other healers take their information. 

“What’s happened?” You bark at an orderly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Auror ambush by some ashwinders,” he says dryly. “It’s awful.  Lost a few–even more are bleeding.  It’s dark magic, some sort of spell to keep the wounds bleeding.”

“Of course it is, those bastards.” You mutter. “I’ll take the worst of them.  Can someone bring me a coffee?”

He nods, pointing over to a bay of beds a few feet away. “Those three–they specifically requested you.” He hands off the charts, promising a caffeinated beverage.

You’re about to start flipping through the charts when you hear your name.  Your head flies up at the familiar voice, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You can see Everett Clopton waving his hands at you; Andrew Larson’s voice is yelling behind the curtain.  And just your luck, a pair of black shiny dress shoes are dangling off the examination table, twisted in an unnatural way.

Before you even realize it, you’re running to them.  The charts are promptly cast onto the side table when you duck behind the curtain, a gasp catching in your throat.

Sebastian looks awful.  

Correction–Sebastian looks dead.

“He jumped in front of me,” Everett panics, his hands on his head. “He shouldn’t have–we were talking, we thought we were out of the thick of it–”

“He’s been hit badly,” Andrew interjects.  His sleeves are bloodied from trying to apply pressure to a gash across Sebastian’s chest, the blood seeping through his shirt and vest. “You have to do something,” he pleads. “He’s the best of us–we can’t lose him.”

“Move,” you urge the two of them.  They scoot out of your way, and you make quick work of Sebastian’s clothing.

Years ago, tearing off Sebastian’s shirt would’ve been done out of passion, out of love.  You push those thoughts out of your mind as you rip through his white dress shirt, which is sopping wet with blood. Sebastian’s skin is cold and clammy; even his freckles are pale, disappearing from his face.

“Get me some dittany and shrivelfigs,” you screech at the other healers. “And the blood renewing potions, please.” You run your hand and your wand over Sebastian’s wounds, uttering a healing charm. “Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” you mutter under your breath.  The spell isn’t healing fast enough, Sebastian is still losing too much blood.

You let out the  blue wisps of magic from your fingertips as you channel some of your ancient magic into the healing spell. You’re still mad at Sebastian, of course, but you’ll be damned if he dies on your watch.  

To your relief, the wounds start knitting themselves shut faster, but the scars look awful, all purpled and raised.  Another healer is next to you, urgently crushing the dittany and shrivelfigs into a paste–an idea you got from the patient lying in front of you during your sixth year.  You’d been battered so often during Crossed Wands, the two of you had experimented with salves and balms to lessen the appearance of your scars. 

“He appears to be stabilizing,” the junior healer claims. “Good job, as always.”

You suppress the choked out cry that’s stuck in your throat as you think of Ominis, and how he used to scold the two of you for experimenting.  He’d be thankful now that you did.

“There’s others,” another healer urges you. “We must move on to the next.”

You don’t want to.  Sebastian seems to be stirring, groaning as the healer rubs the salve onto the gaping wound that streaks across his chest.  You can hear Everett and Andrew crying and laughing on the other side of the curtain, exclaiming your name for having saved their partner.

There’s so much commotion, you could swear Sebastian uttered your name, but when you look back, his head is flat on the table, eyes shut.  The color is slowly returning to him, now no longer pale and gray.

“We have to keep him for observation,” you instruct another healer, handing her Sebastian’s chart. “I’ll check on him later.  In the meantime, there are others.”

Without another glance, you move on to the next bay.

“Excellent work as always,” your boss pats you on the shoulder. “You saved six good men tonight with your quick work.”

“I should just move into the ward,” you mutter under your breath before taking a large swig of coffee.  

Your dress is stained with blood, fingers aching from all the healing you’d done.  From the twelve aurors in the ambush, three had superficial wounds (Larson and Clopton included).  Two had passed in the field, another before you’d gotten to the hospital.  But all six of the aurors you’d treated, Sebastian included, were now tucked into private rooms, safe and breathing. You were keeping them for observation, unsure of what kind of curse the ashwinders had used on them.  Your ancient magic managed to seal the wounds, but all were badly scarring.  They’d all have to stay until you could rule out the cause.

After a much needed shower and an owl sent to your fiance, regretfully informing him you’d not make it to brunch with his parents, you start making your rounds. Most of your patients are sleeping deeply, others dizzily asking what happened.  You save Sebastian’s room for last; Clopton and Larson, faithful companions, are sleeping in chairs outside of his room.

You quietly shut the door behind you, gulping as you stare at the man laying in the hospital bed. His chubby cheeks are long gone, hollowed and chiseled by age. You’d laughed at him when you were seventeen and he claimed he had a beard coming in; now you can see traces of stubble lining his jaw. His unruly chestnut hair has been brushed out of his face in a way you know he’ll hate.

But you don’t know that, not truly. Because you don’t know Sebastian anymore.

“Oh Sebastian,” you tut, sitting at a stool next to his bed. You hover your hands over his body, a misty blue glow emitting from them. No internal bleeding at least. He’s had at least three blood renewing potions, and his breathing is steady. You would examine the scars across his chest and torso, but the thought of undressing him in his current state is inappropriate to you. 

You’re about to get up, leave him to his slumber when you hear it. He whispers your name in his sleep, head falling to the side. And instead of him being the one with a gaping wound, you feel like a hole has been drilled into your chest. 

Maybe you’ll ask for tomorrow off.

Night Two

You’d asked for the day off again, but the request was denied.  Begrudgingly, you dress for your shift, tucking your hair behind your ears as you walk with your daytime counterpart down the hallway.

“You’ve missed all the commotion,” your fellow healer gasps.  She’s filling you in on the day shift, and all that’s transpired since you left in the morning. “There was a memory charm laced in with that blood curse from the ashwinders—some of them have lost weeks, years of memories. Not recognizing their wives or their children; we’ve had to close the doors to all visitors.”

“That’s a nasty curse.” You mutter, flipping through charts. Only someone sick in the head would mess with memory tampering curses—you wonder why no one has petitioned for them to be banned. The long term care wing at St. Mungos is filled with too many people who’d tinkered with memory spells, and you sincerely hope none of the aurors under your care end up there.

“Terrible, of course. But it made for an interesting day.” She hums. “You should’ve seen Rowle’s wife, security had to cart her out after he called her the wrong name. Think he courted her twin sister too.” 

You laugh with her as you walk through the hallway, until your heart fills with dread.  

“How is Sallow?  The patient in 213.”

She tilts her head. “Fine I think–oh, he was asking for you.  Do you know him?”

You fight back the red flush that’s creeping up your neck. “We were schoolmates.” You say. Nothing more. Sebastian can’t be more, especially after you’d done such hard work to forget him in the first place.

After your colleague has clocked out and you’ve checked all your other patients, you quietly rap your knuckles against Sebastian’s door.  It’s late enough at night that he might be asleep already, and you can avoid the entire awkward conversation.

“Come in!” 

Shit.

You open the door, and Sebastian is staring right back at you.  He isn’t scowling like you thought he would be–his eyes are bright, a beaming smile on his lips.

“They told me you were working the night shift.” he says happily, scratching at the collar of his hospital gown. “I stayed awake.”

“Right, Mr. Sallow,” You say curtly, eyes down at the chart in front of you. “It is late, you should be getting rest–”

“But I’ve been waiting for you,” he frowns. 

You look up at him, and instead of a grown man, you see the puppy dog eyes that got you in trouble the few years you had at Hogwarts. “Mr. Sallow, rest is essential to your healing. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pet, it’s me.”

You inhale sharply, white knuckling the edge of the bed. “Sebastian,” you mutter (you hate how easily his name rolls off your lips still), “what year do you think it is?”

He rolls his eyes and chuffs. “It’s 1893, duh.”

“It’s not,” you sigh. “It’s 1898. You were in an ambush yesterday, and it seems the Ashwinders are using a memory curse as retaliation nowadays.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before he bursts into laughter. “Really?  I’ve lost five damn years in my head?  What have I missed? Don’t tell me we’re not married yet.”  Only Sebastian could be jovial about such a matter; all the others were utterly distraught at losing their memories.

“Sebastian, darling, we haven’t seen each other in five years.” you confess, moving to the edge of the bed.  Your voice is quiet, and although it’s been ages since you last called him darling, you think it might be too much on his poor heart if you don’t. The poor man just asked if you were married, for Merlin’s sake.

His smile fades. “What?”

“We…we went our separate ways five years ago.” You clear your throat. “It…it was a mutual decision.” you lie.  Was it a lie?  You honestly can’t remember.

“I would never,” Sebastian bites back.  “I would never break up with you.”

“Darling, it’s been a very long time,” you say softly, wringing your hands together. “And I’m okay–you’re okay.  We’re both doing well…just on our own now.”

“I can’t–this doesn’t make sense,” he jolts away from your touch, and you flinch. “Why would I ever agree to such a thing?” 

You can recognize the tell tale signs of panic on a patient’s face, so you hurry over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of water.  Sebastian is too far away to see you slip the vial of dreamless sleep into the glass, swirling it into oblivion.

“Here, drink this.  You’ll feel much better,” you assure him. 

Sebastian absentmindedly takes the glass, gulping down the water as he tries to make sense of the current situation. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath as he starts rubbing his eyes.  He’s fighting the effects, and he looks up at you, a deep set frown on his face. “You dosed me, dammit.” The glass rolls out of his hand and onto the bed, where you scoop it up. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it's sincere.  But you’re not equipped to handle Sebastian in such a state–you aren’t equipped to handle him, period.  It’s been five years since you’ve had to mind his temper, and your heart can’t handle the pain.  

Before you know it, Sebastian is knocked out, the dreamless sleeping draught taking over his body.  With his eyes tightly shut, you can finally examine him.  The scars across his chest are still purple, bruises lining his torso.  Your fingers dance across his skin trying to heal him, but alas, they stay.

You make notes on his chart, letting the other healers know he may be groggy and upset when he wakes in the morning. Even though they’ve put a no visitors policy on the aurors, you remind them to call upon Ominis and Anne to see if they can talk some sense into him.  

The last you’d asked Natty about Sebastian, he was happy.  He was climbing up the ranks in the auror office, and he’d finally moved out of Ominis’s spare room.  You’d cut her off once she started telling you how he was dating–that you didn’t need to know.

That had been two years ago.  You wonder what’s changed since then.

Night Three

Your pleas for a night off have gone unanswered.  Your boss tells you that you’re too integral to the auror case to be gone for more than twelve hours.  

There’s a note left by your fiance’s owl; he’s sad you missed brunch, but he’s excited to take you out on Friday, your next scheduled day off.  His mother is insistent the two of you sit for an engagement portrait that will be posted in the Daily Prophet to announce your impending union.  You fold the note and toss it onto your desk; when you have a free moment, you’ll write a letter explaining that you would like a lengthy engagement.

Planning a wedding and working the night shift is just too much work for you.  You twist your large engagement ring off your finger and put it in its box before taking the floo network to St. Mungo’s.

You’re barely five steps out of the fireplace before a body hits you.  

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Anne Sallow breathes, her arms enveloping you. “You saved him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Anne,” you sigh into her touch.  Similar to her brother, it’s been ages since you’ve seen her.  She’s still thin and delicate, but her bangs are long grown out. “What are you still doing here?  It’s so late.”

“Ominis and I wanted to catch you,” she claims. “The healers called us in to talk to Sebastian.”

“Right, I asked them to.” you say, smoothing your apron. “How was he today?”

Anne winces. “He’s…he’s still pretty confused.”

You give her a sympathetic smile, biting back the sarcastic words you had in mind. “It must be awful.”

Anne pulls away, digging her toe into the ground. “He keeps asking what happened between the two of you.  I’m not sure what to say.” she admits.

You bite your lower lip. “You can tell him the truth.  That we ended amicably.  That we were fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have disappeared for five years.” a voice says behind you.

It only takes you a second to recognize the rich voice of Ominis Gaunt.  Whirling around, you throw your arms around the tall blonde.  It’s been ages since you’ve given him a hug let alone seen him, so he chuckles into your shoulder when you grasp him.

“I missed you,” you pat his cheek.

“We missed you,” Ominis hums. “I’m surprised St. Mungo’s would call me; I haven’t been Sebastian’s emergency contact for a while.”

You furrow your eyebrows as Anne takes Ominis’s arm. Why wouldn’t he be his emergency contact?  Ominis is his best friend, and having been together with Anne for so long, practically his brother.

That’s a question for another time, you decide.

“It’s late, you two should be getting home.  Visitor hours are over.”  you remind them.

“I’m not leaving before you promise to see me again,” Ominis says sternly. “Five years is far too long.”

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Ominis, I’m sorry.  I just thought that when things ended, the two of you were best friends…”

“That was my decision to make,” he says softly. “Not yours.  I decide whose side I’m on.”

Ominis’s words warm your heart, but they also leave cracks.  Ominis and Sebastian were a package deal when you met them, and you’ve spent far too much of your time with the boys driving them apart. 

After much coaxing, Ominis and Anne take their leave.  You’re finally able to start your rounds.  Rowle is starting to regain his memories and they’ve allowed his wife back into the ward.  Travers still has a nasty gash on his leg that’s festering, but he’s otherwise remembering things from last week.  Cattermole is fast asleep, so you avoid his room to let him get some more rest.

Your hand falters on the handle of room 213, taking a deep breath before you push in.  Just as you thought, Sebastian isn’t asleep.  He’s sitting upright in bed, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at you.

“You’re looking much better,” you offer, shutting the door behind you.

“You gave me a sleeping draught last night,” he accuses you. “That’s not fair.”

“You were getting hysterical, Sebastian.” you remind him, flipping through his chart.  Nothing particularly new, and no memories back.  He’s spent the entire day asking for you, the chart says, and fighting with orderlies.  It mentions Ominis and Anne arriving, and that the two gentlemen had sharp words for one another. Ominis was right—he isn’t Sebastian’s emergency contact anymore. There’s an unfamiliar name, a woman.

“Open your shirt, please.”

Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure we’re not together?”

You roll your eyes. “Your cheekiness, I didn’t miss it.” you mutter, hands on your hips. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your wounds, you idiot.”

Sebastian gives you a familiar grin as he unbuttons his pajama shirt; he’s flexing his muscles, you can tell.  A pinch to his pectoral has him yowling, and he stops.  You grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Perhaps we did break up,” he grumbles.

Sebastian’s breath stutters as your fingers prod at his scars. They’re still ugly and raised, but the color is improving. 

“I’m not sure there’s much more I can do,” you frown. “I think they’ll stay.”

“That’s fine,” Sebastian breathes. “You did always say you preferred when I was roughed up.” 

You give him a strained look. “Sebastian–”

“Please, listen to me.” Sebastian urges. “Ominis…he told me what happened between us. And I really, truly can’t believe we would let it get to that.” Your name is a gentle whisper from his mouth, and he pushes his brunette hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You swallow thickly, backing up. “We were so young, Sebastian.  Let’s leave the past in the past, please.”

“Ominis and I haven’t spoken in two years.” Sebastian interjects. “He just told me.  Annie says we had a fight, and you were part of it.”

You turn around, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want to hear this,” you admit weakly.

Sebastian is rustling in his sheets; he lets out a low hiss as he adjusts his still healing torso. “If the version of me, the one that got cursed, isn’t talking to you, Anne, or Ominis…I don’t want to go back to that.  I don’t want to be that version of me.” Sebastian pleads. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to remember.”

“You have friends, Sebastian.” You remind him, turning to face him again. “You have friends, your job…” you trail off, picking up his chart again.  You pinpoint the section with his emergency contact; a woman who is likely sitting at home, worried sick over him. “You have a girlfriend, probably.  One who is desperate to see you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you try to imagine her, but your mind comes up blank.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian breathes. “She’s a stranger.”

“I’m the stranger,” you remind him. “Sebastian…I’m engaged. I’m getting married next spring.” 

That’s a lie–you and your fiance haven’t even discussed a timeline, but it seems more official to say it with a season.

The hope on Sebastian’s face crumbles, eyes wide as he stares at you.

“You’re engaged,” he croaks.

“Engaged.” The more you say it, the more it’s real. “He’s lovely.  You would like him.” Now that's an even bigger lie–Sebastian would’ve called him a prat if he met him. You appreciate your fiance’s softness and meekness, especially after having been with a firecracker hothead for most of your teens.

Sebastian is crumpled in bed, twisting onto his side. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he mumbles.  It was textbook Sebastian–whenever something didn’t go his way, he’d turn away from you in bed like a petulant child.  It’s almost a relief to see that he does the same thing at twenty three years old.

“If you ring the bell, someone will come to aid you.” You wave your wand, dimming the lights. “You can ask for someone else, if you’d like.”  

Sebastian doesn’t say anything as you shut the door, and when he does ring the bell for assistance, he requests anyone but you. It’s stupid to be upset over, it’s what you wanted–for him to stop pestering you.  

But you have a nice long cry in the potions ingredient cupboard anyways.  

The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully.  Rowle has regained his memories and will be discharged in the morning.  Cattermole finally woke up from his deep sleep and he’s on the mend, moved out of the intensive care ward. Travers has also been discharged, prescribed a salve to make sure the cut on his leg stays clean.  It leaves Roberts, Jorkins, and Sallow as your only three patients left from the case, and perhaps now your boss will let you take a night off.

Night Four

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Sebastian says sheepishly.

“Whatever for?” You mumble, pressing a strip of gauze to his chest wound.  You’re trying a new salve recipe you’ve been working on, just to see if it’ll help break down the scar tissue.  His bruises are starting to go yellow, and if he works back up on his memory, Sebastian can be discharged from your ward.

“For being rude.” Sebastian sighs. “I’m…it’s starting to come back to me a bit now.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Is it?”

“We fought that night.” Sebastian swallows thickly. “You and me.  I can’t exactly remember what we fought about, but you threw a book at me.”

“And I hit your eyebrow.” You remind him.

“Lucky shot,” Sebastian rolls his eyes, and you have to suppress a laugh. He winces as you press the salve in; his body is still sensitive.

“I’m sorry for that.  I never got to apologize to you,” you admit, rubbing the mixture in. “But I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Sebastian asks softly.

“For putting up with all of it,” you pat another piece of gauze over the salve.  Sebastian looks like a mess and he’ll have to sleep sitting up, but you’re hoping to salvage his handsome chest. There are a bevy of flower vases strewn across the room, and plenty of Sebastian’s favorite sweets piled on his bedside table.

“I see you had quite a few visitors today.” 

Sebastian nods, trying not to move too much. “Anne and Ominis again; he’s warming back up to me, I know it.” he brags. “Clopton and Larson too. I can’t believe I was paired up with two Ravenclaws as partners. That’s probably how I got all bungled up in the first place.”

“Everett said you were quite the hero,” you back away, admiring your work (and his muscles, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him).  “And they stayed the entire night when you first came into the ward, so I know they’re loyal to you.”

There is a silence between you two for a moment, until Sebastian breaks the tension.

“She visited earlier.” Sebastian echoed. “Rebecca.”

You turn away at the name; at least it’s not the girl you remember from your last argument.  “Rebecca is a lovely name,” you offer.  It’s all you can give him without treading into dangerous waters.  You’re engaged after all, and stuck patting balm into the chest of your former lover.

“She was distraught.” Sebastian hummed. “Hates the scars.”

You turn around, rolling your eyes. “She’s dating an auror, she should get used to it.” you scowl. 

“That’s what I said,” Sebastian laughs, trying not to move the salve covered strips. “But she wasn’t having it.  She was worried I would never look the same, so I broke up with her.”

You blink at him.  He seems completely unbothered.

“Sebastian!” You exclaim. “You shouldn’t break up with her over that alone.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Y’know, the boys filled in a few of the blanks for me.  Apparently, not very many people actually liked Rebecca and I together, so I guess it was impending anyways.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe you broke up with your girlfriend because Everett Clopton and Andrew Larson told you to.” you shake your head. “She was your emergency contact, Sebastian.  You’ve probably been dating a while.”

“According to Clopton, I was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways.”

“Idiots, the lot of you.” You tut, washing your hands in the basin.

“We’d only been dating three months.” Sebastian interjects. “I put her as my emergency contact because I had no one else.  Ominis and Anne…well, they weren’t talking to me apparently.”

You don’t say anything, letting the water run over your hands.

“I guess I’ve been a real arse the last few years,” Sebastian echoes. “Everett said I hadn’t been quite myself since we…well, you get the gist.”

“Everyone is an arse when they’re eighteen,” you remind him. 

Sebastian snorts. “I’m sure you weren’t.”

“I think I might’ve been.” You chuckle under your breath. “Poppy always said I had a one track mind.  Only ever thought about myself, my career.”

“Well, it’s done a lot for you.” Sebastian offers. “Youngest lead healer in St. Mungo’s history.”

You roll your eyes. “The others think I’m a show off.”

“You’re gifted,” he shrugs, and a slice of gauze slips from his chest. “That’s all.”

“Lay back darling,” you advise him, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him comfortable. 

Sebastian does as you say, his hands balled up in fists at his side. “So, your fiance,” He trails off. “What’s he like?”

You purse your lips, pulling his sheets over his waist. “He’s nice.”

“Nice.  That’s it?” Sebastian snorts. “Surely he has some better attributes, you said yes to marrying him.”

“He’s calm, quiet.” you say, turning your back to put away the excess gauze. “He’s a junior secretary for the Minister of Magic.” turning back to Sebastian, you already know he has a smug smile on his face. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say,” you warn, wagging a finger.

“What?” Sebastian scoffs. “I would never say anything about an esteemed junior secretary,” he says dramatically. “Besides, you’re the one who thought it…”

“I didn’t think anything!” You laugh. “I just knew exactly what you were thinking.”

“And what is that?” Sebastian asks coyly.

“You were going to call him a pencil pusher,” you accuse.

Sebastian fakes a gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “My stars, I would never say such a thing.” 

“Stop it,” you laugh again, slapping his hand. “You’re ruining my hard work. I’ll have to do it again.”

“No,” Sebastian groans. “It’s cold.  I just want to put a jumper on, I don’t care about the scars.” he pouts.

“I need you to get better,” you hold your hands on your hips. “The auror office will have my head if I keep you here any longer when your colleagues are back home.”

Sebastian fumbles with the edge of the blanket. “And what would consider me healed?” 

“Well, I’d say besides the appearance, your physical wounds are fully healed.” You shrug. “But we can’t discharge you until your memories are back–or at least substantially returned.”

Sebastian is quiet, and he stays quiet until you finish putting away all your supplies.  You’re about to leave him, implore him to get some rest, when he clears his throat.

“Pet,” he says cautiously (he hasn’t used your old nickname since the second night of his stay).  

“Yes, Sebastian?” You ask, slipping your hands into the pocket of your apron.  When you look at Sebastian from the doorway, he doesn’t look like a twenty three year old man.  He looks like the Sebastian you used to know–the hotheaded eighteen year old who only ever got shy around you.

“Would you…could we be friends after this?” He asked lowly. “I know you said we haven’t seen each other in five years, and I know there’s some blame there on my end. But we’ve been through so much together, and you’ve saved my life.” he rambles. 

You once told yourself that if Sebastian Sallow ever came crawling back, you’d slam the door shut in his face.  The first year of your separation had been excruciating; the second had been dreadful.  Once you’d gotten on to your third year without him in your life, the pain had become bearable.  And once you’d gotten on to four years without him, you realized you didn’t think of him anymore.  In fact, you hadn’t thought of him at all until you saw him standing a few paces away from your tea table.

“Of course, darling.” You assure him. “Only if you promise me that you’ll actually sleep.”

Sebastian’s face lights up in a way you distinctly remember–the first time you’d seen it was when you arrived in Feldcroft to meet Anne when you were both fifteen.  He adjusts himself to the pillows as you wave your wand to dim the lights. 

You shut the door behind you, letting out a sigh when you’re out of sight.  You feel guilty calling Sebastian darling again–you’ve never even blessed your own fiance with his own nickname.  And despite your refusal of the situation, you can’t help the shiver you feel at the base of your spine when you hear Sebastian calling you pet again.

Perhaps being friends is not a good idea.

Night Five

Sebastian is asleep when your shift starts, and you nearly skip over his room.  But against your better judgment, you push into the door, knocking lightly.

The brunette man is slumped over, snoring lightly as if he were waiting for you.  At the sound of the door, he jolts, rubbing his eyes. 

“Why can’t you be on the day shift?” he complains sleepily. 

You chuckle. “I can leave you, let you get some rest.”

“No,” Sebastian clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay.” He shrugs off his shirt, proudly displaying his scars. “They still look like hell, but at least they aren’t purple anymore.”

You stride over, running your hands over them.  Your ancient magic was able to overpower the bleeding curse, but Sebastian will forever have a dip in his chest and bubbled over scars.  They’re at least turning pink, a much better place than they were a few days ago.

“They look great,” you pat his shoulder. “And once we get your memories back in order, we can get you home.”

Sebastian gives you a strange look. “Ominis came again during the day…filling in the blanks again.”

“And?” You ask softly, sitting in the chair next to him.

“Why did we break up?” Sebastian asks firmly. “Can you tell me? And don’t give me the whole spiel about us growing apart.  I want the details.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands. “We were eighteen, Sebastian. I was careless, you were lonely, we were both focused on our careers and not on each other.” Truthfully, you had spent years thinking of the many ways you’d address this conversation, how you’d confront him if you ever saw him again. Now five years later and after having almost witnessed Sebastian’s death, the downfall of your first love is easily compounded into one simple sentence.

“You started working the night shift,” Sebastian says.

“I started working the night shift,” you echo. “I wanted to rise up quickly in the ranks, so I volunteered. I was working so many hours, and you were gone during the day at your job, so we barely saw each other.”

“I asked you to take time off.” Sebastian adds.

“And I said no.” you admit. “I told you that you were being insecure.  That my job was more important, because I was saving lives.” It’s one of the few shames you’ve compartmentalized over the past few years–that you’d ever downplayed the importance of his career compared to yours.

“I went out that night.” Sebastian whispers, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t come home until the morning.”

“It was my only night off of the week, and you came home at four in the morning, stinking of firewhiskey and perfume.” Your eyes shut, replaying the awful scene in your head.

“Did I?” he croaked. “Did I cheat on you, really?”

“No,” You shake your head, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You said you could have.  You said you wanted to.” You add, rubbing the temples of your forehead. “That you were tired of living in half of a relationship, and that you’d wanted to kiss that girl.”

“You threw the book at me,” Sebastian says weakly. “And I smashed your mug.”

“I told you to go to her if you really wanted.” You admit. “And you left.”

“I stayed at Ominis’s that night.” he whispered. “I didn’t go to her.”

“I didn’t know that.  So I packed my things and left.” 

The silence hangs between the two of you, and all of the feelings you had at eighteen come flooding back.  After the fight, you apparated to Natty’s place, while Anne and Poppy had cleaned out your bits in the apartment. What was meant to be a one night stay turned into a week, and then more. After a month without word from Sebastian, you committed to the night shift, forsaking your friendships and social life for work.  Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and before you knew it, you were promoted.  Sebastian Sallow was a blip in your timeline, a faded memory of teenage love.  He’d been just a memory until you saw him in Diagon Alley.  Your heart hadn’t felt anything but anger towards him until you saw his shiny black dress shoes.

“Did we throw it all away?” Sebastian asks sorrowfully.

“We became the people we needed to be.” You remind him. “Look at you, an auror.  A damn good one.  The kind that jumps in front of their partner to save them from a curse.” you assure him.

“And you’re a healer,” Sebastian inhales. “A bloody amazing one, that saved my life and five others.  I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles, and you know your heart is in danger.

“You seem to remember quite a bit,” You point out. “More than you let on.”

“I was talking to Clopton about you.  We thought the ambush was over, we were trying to get to a floo point so we could get Larson’s leg checked out.” Sebastian says. “I told him how beautiful you looked, and that you looked happy.” his voice cracks. 

“Sebastian.” It’s not a warning, just a statement.  A week ago you would’ve never said his name aloud, let alone thought of it.  But it feels right rolling off your tongue.

“Everett said something about you being engaged.  It’s…it’s fuzzy from there on, but I remember the fight.  And I jumped in front of him, but not just to save him.” Sebastian says, his fingers drumming on his stomach.

“Why?” You almost don’t want to hear the rest. It might upend your life entirely.

“I jumped in front of him because I knew I’d be okay.  That you would probably be at St. Mungo’s when I got there.” Sebastian said weakly.  “And I’d get a chance to see you again.”

“Sebastian, we’re different people now.” You remind him. 

“We’re better now.” Sebastian says, giving you pleading eyes. “I was an idiot when I was eighteen; I thought I was being a man, but I wasn’t.  And I’m not going to pretend that I’ve been happy the past five years–there hasn’t been another woman who’s made me feel the way you do.” he confesses.

“It’s been too long,” you try to say, but you know it's no use trying to argue with him.  From your first fight in the Undercroft at fifteen to the fight that broke you two up, Sebastian has never backed down.

Before you even realize it, Sebastian has reached his hand out, taking yours. He’s rubbing your left ring finger–the one missing your large, ostentatious engagement ring.

“Don’t marry him,” Sebastian croaks. “Please, don’t marry him.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I understand you now.” Sebastian says. “I understand you in a way I didn’t when I was younger.  And that’s good–it’s good for us now.  It wasn’t the right time then, but we could try again now.” he pleads.

“Four days ago when you saw me in Diagon Alley, you could barely look at me.” You remind him. “I should have you committed to the memory ward at this point.”

“Four days ago when I saw you, I was sick to my stomach with how happy you looked.” Sebastian admits. “I saw you from a distance, smiling at Larson and Poppy.  I couldn’t look you in the eye after seeing you smile.”

You want to tell Sebastian that your fiance is a good man.  That he loves you, cherishes you, and doesn’t fight with you.  But you can’t help being nostalgic as you hold the hand of your first love, who is currently begging you to end your relationship to risk it all again with him. Whatever strength you’ve mustered together in the last five years is about to break as his big brown eyes implore you to stay.

“Your memory seems back to normal,” you change the subject, standing up quickly.  You tug your hand out from his, smoothing your clammy palms against your apron. “I’ll put you down for discharge in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian warns. “Don’t run away.”

“You ran away.” You remind him.

“And I regret it, every day.” Sebastian says mournfully. “You were my first love.  You were going to be my only love, and I fucked it up.”

“We both made mistakes, Sebastian.” You say, staring down at your feet. “You need to get some rest.  I’ll leave you be.”

He’s arguing as you step through the door, wringing your hands together.  The thoughts running through your head aren’t right–no, they’re crazy.  Except your feet keep walking towards the ward matron’s desk, gripping the stone top.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, frowning.

“I need to go home,” you confess, scribbling what little notes you have onto Sebastian’s chart. “There’s something I have to do.”

Thirty minutes later (your on call replacement is displeased to have been woken up late at night) you’re back in your flat.  Your mind is buzzing as you pace in the bedroom, thinking about the idea gnawing at your brain.

It would be insane.

You haven’t talked in five years.

He’s emotional after having been saved from the brink of death.

He broke up with his girlfriend on the spot, because she wasn’t you.

Sebastian is most well known for his unwavering support and adoration.  At least he was when you were younger.  Sebastian had always been encouraging, cheering you on through crossed wands, battles in the highlands, and even when you got your first job offer from St. Mungo’s. He’d been crazy about you–obsessed with you, even.  The two of you had been the couple of your year when you graduated.  

Sebastian had only ever faltered once, and it ended your relationship.

Don’t marry him.  

The words replay in your mind.  It makes you realize your stomach has flipped more in the last four nights than it has in years.  That your even tempered fiance, a kind but boring man, has not once made you feel what you’ve felt in the past week being back in Sebastian’s presence.

It is insane, you think. But you’d rather take feeling than nothing at all.

Digging through your dresser, you pull out the box holding your engagement ring.  

Night Six

It has been a long, long day.

What time you would have spent sleeping is spent assuring your now ex-fiance that nothing untoward has happened.  That you appreciate his kindness and companionship over the past year, but that you cannot lie to yourself. 

You cannot marry him because you don’t love him as you should.

You prepare for the night shift with a spring in your step, because when you get there, you’re heading straight to Sebastian’s room.  You’re going to tell him what you’ve done, and hope that he’s still feeling just as crazy as you. You pull your hair into its usual bun, wishing you could wear something a little nicer to what will be your reunion.  Sebastian used to love when you wore green; perhaps you’ll buy a green dress the next day you’re off.

When you get to the ward, it’s quieter than usual.  Holding your wand between your teeth again, affixing the white apron, your heart beats out of your chest as you approach room 213.  

This is it.  This is the start of the rest of your life.

You push through the doors of 213, but your breath stutters when you see the empty bed.  It’s stripped of any linens, and all of the flowers and candy boxes Sebastian’s colleagues sent are gone.

“Where is the patient in 213?” you whip around, grabbing the closest orderly.

They give you a curious look. “Discharged this morning–you put it in their paperwork.”

You swallow, and it feels like shards of broken glass are tumbling down your throat. “I…I did.”

“Isn’t today your day off, too?” They tilt their head at you. “Honestly, it feels like your head hasn’t been screwed on at all this week. Might want to take some focus potions, ma’am.”

“Uh, right.” You admit, turning red.  You were so excited at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again, you completely forgot that Fridays were your nights off from the ward. You were rather busy after all, imploding your life. “”Does it say who picked him up?”

They shrug, flipping through the charts again. “He was taken to his home in Diagon Alley by his sister and brother-in-law.”

You curse under your breath as you try to plot a plan.  There’s no way Ominis still lives in the small flat he had when you last saw him, and you have no idea where Sebastian lives.  The ward doesn’t have an address either, so you’re shit out of luck.

Unless…unless you were to find one of his loyal partners.

Apparition is frowned upon inside of St. Mungo’s, but you’ll take a scolding from the matron ward on Saturday. You immediately apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where most of the ministry’s aurors spend their evenings.  You know this because you’ve been avoiding the biggest pub in Diagon Alley for five years, hoping not to run into your ex.

The crowd stares at you in your St. Mungo’s uniform; you push through throngs of ministry employees, all wearing fine suits and dresses from their day jobs.  Your eyes scan the room, heart losing hope by the second, until you spot Everett and Andrew sitting with a gaggle of your classmates from Hogwarts, Natsai Onai included.  Andrew elbows Everett at the sight of you, and Clopton beams as if he’s won a bet.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly, approaching the group. 

“Figured you might turn up.” Larson teased. “Gaunt, Clopton, and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“What’s going on?” Natty asks, clearly confused. She says your name, tilting her head. 

“I need his address,” You gasp. “He wasn’t at the ward when I got there–”

“Anne and Ominis picked him up this morning.” Everett says, pulling out his wand and a paper napkin.  He aimed his wand at the scrap, delicately burning an address into the paper. “He doesn’t live far from here. Perhaps you’ll keep him from spending too much time at the pub now.”

“Who doesn’t live far?” Natty asks again, elbowing Andrew.

“Sallow, of course.” Larson winks. “You two had enough time to talk it through, yeah?”

“What the bloody hell–they haven’t spoken in five years,” Natty claims with wide eyes. She gives you a look, and you can’t do anything but shrug.

“Near death experiences will change you,” Everett says smugly, taking a sip of his tankard. “Well go on then, what are you still doing here?”

You mouth an apology to Natty; you’ll have to explain it to her someday soon.  For now, you’re pushing through the crowd, trying to get out the door.  Looking down at the napkin, Everett Clopton is right; Sebastian lives maybe a stone's throw away from the pub.  Your feet are pounding on the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, looking like a blue wisp to any passersby.  

Before you know it, you’re turning onto his street, with only the lamps in front of each door illuminating the numbers.  You stop, gasping for air, trying to find the right one.  Of course he’s at the end of the row, a dark green door with a gold knocker.  It’s late now, the sky pitch black, as you start pounding.

It takes only thirty seconds for the door to swing open; Anne is standing behind it, looking shocked.

“You’re here,” she breathes.

“I told you she would,” you hear Ominis yell from the inside. “Clopton owes me ten galleons.”

“Can I come in?” you ask.

Anne bites back a smile. “Of course you can.”

You walk into Sebastian’s home; despite having never seen it, it positively reeks of him. There are touches of him all over the house–from the books stacked in the hallways, to the shoes messily kicked in the parlor room.  He has trinkets from his travels on the mantle, and you can see he still leaves his teacups all over the house (something you once fought over–it seems endearing now).  

Ominis is in the sitting room, lounging on a chaise. “Took you long enough.” he says teasingly. “I was rather surprised you abandoned him last night.  He was absolutely bereft when we picked him up in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you admit sheepishly, digging your toe into the carpet. “I…I just had something I had to do first.”

“A break up and a make up in one day, you’re a busy woman as always.”

“Shut up.”

Ominis gives you a toothy grin; something he saves only for those he loves. “I missed you.” he stood, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can only hope Sebastian doesn’t bungle it all up and we lose you all over again.”

You press your nose into Ominis’s shoulder; it seems silly you ever thought you could live without this group of people in your life. 

“I thought you were mad at him,” you say, pulling back to look up at the blond.

“I was mad that he was being stubborn,” Ominis says softly. “That he wasn’t being himself, drinking every day and dating girls who weren’t right for him.  I told him he had to pluck up the courage to speak to you again, or get over it and make peace with his life.  He’s been rather stuck, as you can imagine.”

You have been too, you think.

“Is he upstairs?” You ask, turning to the slim staircase. Anne is standing next to the railing, giving a signature Sallow smirk.

“He might be asleep,” Ominis warned. “But he is. First room to the left.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks before walking up the stairs.  The floor creaks underneath you as you push in the door; Sebastian is laying in his bed, sleeping fitfully. You nearly knock a stack of books over as you kneel next to his bed; you also recognize the book on his side table, the spine dented from when you threw it at his face five years ago. It reminds you of the shattered mug you keep on your desk.  Perhaps you two have been subconsciously keeping pieces of each other around.

Sebastian stirs as you brush his brunette hair out of his face.  He opens one eye, then the other, blinking furiously as he tries to sit up.

“You’re here,” he groans, a hand flying to his torso. “Is this a good visit, or just a hospital house call? Because my scars are killing me now that I’m home.”

You give a watery chuckle. “It can be both, if you like.”  You pull the blanket aside, examining his puckered skin.  The scars will stay for good, but that’s fine.  You did always like it when Sebastian was roughed up anyways.

“You’re here.” Sebastian repeats, only this time it's softer.

“I had to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get your address from Clopton.” you admit, blue waves emitting from your fingertips as you try to take away some of the physical pain. “But yes, I’m here.”

“By the sound of our last conversation, I thought you were done.  That we were just going to have to live with our mistakes.” Sebastian breathes.

“I wanted to say more, but there was something I had to do first.” you sit on the bed; Sebastian adjusts to give you more room, taking your hands in his. “I had to give back the engagement ring.”

“You did?” Sebastian asks hopefully.

“Seeing you…being around you for the first time in five years…” You’re trying to compound all of your feelings in a simple sentence, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “It made me realize I just didn’t love him.” You confess. “I shouldn’t feel the way I’ve felt seeing you.”

“Pet,” he murmurs, putting a hand to your cheek. “You’ve saved my life. I can’t ask anything more from you.”

“Then can I?” You ask, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you place your hand over his. Sebastian’s hand is warm and familiar, fitting perfectly against you.

“Ask me anything,” Sebastian echoes.

“Let’s try again.” you whisper.  

Sebastian scoots over, making space on the bed for you.  You don’t care if anyone else has slept in it over the five years you’ve been apart; something about the way Sebastian melts against your touch tells you he’s only ever belonged to you in the first place. 

“Let’s try again.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips.  It feels positively electric, like it’s awoken something that’s been dormant inside you for five long, sleepy years.  You take good care not to press too much of your weight onto a still recovering patient, but Sebastian does everything in his power to draw you closer.  His hands start pulling pins out of your hair, the tight bun coming unraveled as he weaves his fingers through your tresses.

“You’re still healing,” you remind him as he starts working on the buttons of your dress. “And your sister is downstairs.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian murmurs into your skin, tugging your collar down to press a kiss at the base of your neck. “We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”

You have, you think.  So you let Sebastian ravish you with kisses, blushing when you hear Ominis loudly call up the stairs that he and Anne are leaving.  You only leave the bed to unlace your dress, Sebastian eagerly watching as you strip the fabric from your body.  He groans in a good way when you press kisses to his chest, fingers dancing across the scars on his chest.  Not all scars would disappear, and there would always be reminders of the past.  But it was good to acknowledge them, to know that they were there, and that they were healed.  

The two of you stay awake the entire night reacquainting yourselves with each other’s body; the sun is streaming through Sebastian’s curtains when you realize you’ve been awake since Thursday night, running off adrenaline. Your eyes begin to droop as Sebastian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Go to sleep, pet.” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

You’ll have to call in again, you think. You need an entire day of sleep after this week.  And the next time you get to the ward, you’ll turn in your official notice, asking to move to the day shift.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

I absolutely love n adore your writing especially your IDV Norton/ Fool’s Gold ones (I am a huge ! major ! simp for him). I need MORE OF FOOL’S GOLD— the size difference is getting to me!!

I hope you’re taking requests! :> Fool’s Gold is just sometimes always in thought at how different the size is between him n reader? Like. Just how do they handle him so well ?? Or even, just like the idea of cat and mouse BECAUSE OF THE SIZE DIFF.. this can be a nsfw oneshot or drabble but it’s up to you entirely!!

rated Explicit | Warning: it kinda feral

Norton Campbell has always been the one who towers above you, Andrew, William, and himself being the tallest in the survivors' group. This translated to his hunter counterpart who is the tallest of the hunters next to Disciple, Evil Reptilian, and himself.

When he is around you, he is often standing beside or behind you, a grin on his face as you watch you crane your name to look at his face— The same thing you do with his other self, but is different.

There is arrogance, cockiness, and sadistness in his wide toothy grin. Especially, when he has you all alone and his excitement is clear by the way he has you on a medical bed at the second level of the Sacred Heart Hospital.

He was particularly vicious in this match. He is of course a vicious hunter, but this felt a bit personal as he had downed Freddy, Kreacher, and Servais. It was like he was… God, you should kick him for being territorial— None of them are a threat, but you know Norton never particularly liked them.

“So small.” Keeping his deformed hand pinning your arms above your head, “To think this has taken all of my cock.” His other hand cupping your crotch, “Bet you can take us both.”

The idea of both Nortons being inside of you as you flustered, embarrassed thinking how many times that was close to happening. You fear if that happens, you might not be able to walk properly for a while. Yet, the idea excites you and he chuckles at how you bite down on your lower lip. His hand moved up and down. Your hips raised begging silently for more.

“Say you can, no, say you will take us both, sparky.”

You try to speak knowing he is going to use it as an opportunity to have you moaning louder midway— Still, you foolishly try and once again you are moaning.

“Sensitive today, huh?” Raising an eyebrow at how you easily moaned a little too loudly. His hand moves under you grabbing the waistband of your pants, a push up and a pull as exposes your ass and legs to the slightly warm air.

“That little bastard.” He yanked your pants with your underlings off your legs taking a shoe with it before tossing it on the ground beside his feet. Now he can see why you were sensitive, the bite marks on your thighs and your hole smelling heavily of arousal— That weak brat made sure to cum inside of you too, giving Fool’s Gold the sloppy seconds of your hole.

“Fine,” Unzipping his pants, “This will only make it easy for me!” You squirm as he picks up your leg and brings it up to your shoulder, “Let's take that pretty voice of yours from him in return.”

You would have thought he was gonna slam right into you, no he made sure to drag out the sensation of him filling you. Norton is well endowed, to say the least and he is always something you might not ever get used to— Fool’s Gold is bigger, considering he can reconstruct himself… Of course, he made himself big enough to have a bump appear on your lower stomach from him filling you so much. And he loves to not only point it out but touch it to actively remind you: he is bigger.

So competitive, not that it does not have its advantages but, God, you are always sore.

“Now say what I told you to say before.” Now fully inside of you, “Say how you can take us both, sparky.”

You say it softly with your face turned away, then you say it again louder when he starts a rough pace making you immediately realize you are in fact that sensitive.

“That's it,” Laughing as repositions you to have both your legs pressed against your chest so he can reach even deeper, “Go on, tell me how bad you need us.” He wants to feed into his ego, loves hearing you admit how you love Norton Campbell so much— How you love every fucked up piece of him like he is a diamond rather than Fool’s Gold. “Fuck, every time so tight.” You moan out his name, the desperation for release with each ‘Norton, Norton, Norton’ you say.

“Whore,” Groaning, “My whore.” His hands, both of them holding your legs. Your hands gripping the dirty surgeon table as the Hunter fucks you relentlessly. A mix of spite and his own desperation for you.

[americasass91]

Need You Now

Hello, my lovelies!

So listen….this is completely self indulgent and is all Mr Evan’s fault. He just had to go and win Sexiest Man Alive and have a sexy fucking photoshoot. And those pictures just had to make me feral.

This is definitely not the best thing I’ve ever written. Threw it together in about an hour. Again having nobody to blame but Christopher.

I mean how could I not after I saw the above picture? I couldn’t not write something.

Well anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

*DISCLAIMER, if you’re under 18, just go away. This isn’t for you! Kindly fuck off. Thanks!

Words: 2.4k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Language, unprotected Smut, P in V sex, Breeding Kink, talks of trying to conceive, husband and wife kink if you squint, Chris in that picture, I think that’s it

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“Why did you agree to this again?”

You rolled your eyes at your husband as you continued doing your makeup in the mirror. “Because Andy, it’s the last good weekend before the colder weather sets in and because we were invited and I want to go.”

Your grumpy husband lets out a sigh. “I would’ve much rather done our own thing than go to this cookout.”

You put the finishing touches on your makeup and turn around to look at him. “Why? It’ll be fun! They’re our friends, Andrew. We don’t see them very much.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “But I don’t even like half of these people.”

“Oh, come on. It won’t be that bad. I promise. If we get there and you are bored to tears and hating life, then we’ll go. Scouts honor!”

He walks until he’s standing in front of you and puts his hands on your hips. “Okay, fine. I’ll go but only because you want to. But when we get back…” He starts trailing light, barely there kisses along the side of your neck until he reaches your ear..”You better plan to be up all night, filled with me.”

Before the shivers finish trailing up your spine, Andy steps away with a chuckle to go get dressed. Well shit. Now you aren’t sure you want to go yourself. You shake your head. No. You had promised your friends you’d show up. Plus you were already ready. And you thought you looked pretty cute in your yellow sundress.

You turn back around to face the mirror to double check your hair when your husband emerges from the closet. You do a double take as he sits on the bed to slip on his boots.

Jesus Christ you have forgotten how to breathe.

Your usually suited up, straight laced A.D.A., is sitting there looking like sex on legs.

He’s in a pair of black slacks and a dark green shirt. But that’s not what has you open-mouthed and drooling. It’s the way he only buttoned up the shirt about halfway and you have a clear view of the chain he always wears and the tattoos that litter his chest. Including your name he has tattooed over his left pec.

Christ on a cracker. You can already tell your panties have soaked through. This piece of shit is doing this on purpose. He knows the effect he has on you.

“Sweetheart?”

You shake your head as you close your mouth, stunned to see him standing in front of you. He reaches up and wipes some drool from the side of your mouth. “You, uh, got some drool there.”

You open your mouth to retort but realize your brain has short circuited from the beauty of the man in front of you.

Sure, you’re married and have been together for a long time. Doesn’t mean you aren’t still widely attracted to the man.

He gives your ass a smack. “We better get going. Don’t want to be late.”

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After changing into a fresh pair of panties, you and Andy head on over to your neighbor's house across the street.

You both head ou tback where the party is in full blast. “Well look what the fucking cat dragged in! The Barbers!”

Your eyes instantly spot the man yelling. “Hi, Mike!”

You let go of Andy’s hand and let Mike pull you into a quick hug. You’re soon pulled out of it by his wife Kate and pulled into her arms. “Oh my god! I can’t believe you actually showed up!” She pulls away and looks you up and down. “Cute dress! Come on, let’s go get you a drink!”

You turn your head about to see if Andy wants anything, but see a beer has already been put into his hand and is standing in a circle of the other husband’s chatting. Looks like he’s even enjoying himself. You knew he would.

Kate drops your hand after you make it over to the drink table. “So, what’s your poison?”

You eye the table and decide to play it safe and stick with an old fashioned wine cooler. Kate just rolls her eyes at you. “That’s it?”

You twist the cap off and take a quick sip. Just as good as you remember them. “I don’t want to get too crazy. Plus, it’s been forever since I’ve had one of these.”

Kate looks up after she gets done pouring an adequate amount of rum into her coke. “Well, they are delicious. So, how’ve you been? How’s, uh, everything?”

You take another swig before answering. Of course she’s wondering if you’d had any luck conceiving. You shrug your shoulders. “Nothing yet, but we’ve only been trying for a few months. Plus my doctor said it may take awhile since I had been on birth control since I was 15. Might take a little bit for all those hormones to leave my system.”

She nods. “Yeah, it took about a year for me to get pregnant. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll happen!”

You shake your head. “I’m not worried. It’ll happen if it’s meant to. And if not, then we’ll adopt. I’m not going to stress over it. The doctor said stressing about it can make it not happen so I’m going to stay positive.”

Kate smiles at you. “That’s a great mindset! Regardless of how it happens, you’ll make an amazing momma!”

“Thank you! I hope so! I’m sure I’ll be asking you for lots of tips.”

She takes a sip of her drink as she looks over at her kids playing around the yard with the other neighborhood kids. “Oh, I’ve got plenty!”

The 2 of you are soon joined by a couple other women you hadn’t seen in awhile either. You guys chat and gossip about everything that’s been going on lately. As the conversation turns to something you’re less than interested in, you can’t help but let your eyes wander over to Andy.

The men have migrated to a group of lawn chairs and are laughing about something. Andy’s eyes catch yours and he gives you a smile. God you loved him. You return it before getting pulled back into the conversation when one of the ladies asks how your job is going.

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About 2 hours later it starts getting dark out. All the women had rejoined their significant others at the lawn chairs.

You were currently laying against Andy’s chest, him leaned back with his arms wrapped around you. The fire had been going for a while now and you were all nice and toasty.

A few of the couples had gathered their kids and bid their goodbyes. That left only Kate’s and Mike’s kids and a few couples left sat around the fire.

You’re just enjoying listening to the conversations going on around you, letting the vibrations of Andy’s chest as he talks to Mike lull you to sleep.

You just get your eyes shut when your phone starts going off.

You quickly grab it and silence it. Kate asks if everything is okay. You wave a hand in her direction. “Yeah, just my mom texting me.”

But that’s a lie.

That wasn’t your text tone that went off. You knew that sound well. And judging from the way Andy is now practically squirming underneath you, so does he.

You have this app on your phone to help track when you’re ovulating. And anytime you’re in a peak ovulation time, an alarm goes off. The sound has lately made your husband feral. He’ll bend you over the nearest surface and stuff you full.

Speaking of.

He is currently subtly rutting his erection into your ass.

You hold back a whimper and grab onto his arm. “Andy, stop. Not here.”

He leans down to whisper into your ear, “Should’ve thought about that when you made plans to come here. You know what that fucking alarm does to me. Need to be inside you baby girl. Now.”

Oh, fuck.

You’re about to suggest going home when the rest of the couples, and kids, start to stand up and head toward the house. Mike goes over and puts the fire out.

Kate comes over to your chair. “We’re going to head inside and watch the new Halloween movie. You guys wanna come?”

You don’t even have time to open your mouth to respond before Andy does. “Nah, I think we’re going to head home. Both of us are a little tired. Aren’t we, sweetheart?”

You nod your head. “Yeah, the fire made me tired.”

She nods. “Okay, well let’s get lunch next week?”

You agree. “Sounds great! Thank you for inviting us.”

She waves as she heads inside. You go to get up but are forcefully pulled back down. “Just where do you think you’re going, baby girl?” He moves your hair to the side and starts kissing and biting at your neck, all the while moving his right hand under your dress.

“Well I thought we could head home and take care of-“ But you’re cut off when his fingers make contact with your clothed core.

“Too far. Need you here, now.”

You go to protest but he moves your panties aside and sinks a finger into you.

You smack your hand to your mouth to keep your moan in. Andy just chuckles behind you as he adds another finger and starts scissoring them around. “Need to keep quiet, baby. Don’t want the neighbors knowing what we’re doing out here.”

You clench down on his fingers. “Oh? Maybe you do, huh? Does my baby girl want to get caught?”

You can’t even respond. You start grinding against his hand. He indulges you for a few minutes before he pulls his fingers out and flips you around so that you’re straddling him. He pulls you in for a lust filled kiss before he grabs your hands and puts them at the top of his pants. “Go on. Take me out.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Not wasting any time, you unbutton and unzip his slacks. You quickly find out he has gone commando this evening. You look up at him in surprise. He just gives you a sexy smirk. “Easier access?”

You roll your eyes and lean back in for a kiss, your right hand wrapped around his achingly hard cock, pumping it up and down.

Andy brushes your hand away and pulls your panties to the side. “Sorry sweetheart. Need to be inside you.”

Not wanting to wait any longer yourself, you grab ahold of his cock and hover over him and rub his tip along your soaked slit before sinking down on his length. You throw your head back and let out a sigh of relief. You love nothing more than to be filled by your husband.

Andy takes a minute to watch the pleasure on your face. It doesn’t last very long though before he grabs your hips and starts grinding you back and forth in his lap.

You don’t catch the moan that escapes you this time.

“Shhh. Need to be a good girl and stay quiet while your husband fills you up.”

You nod and place your hands on his shoulders as you take over the movement of your hips, picking up the pace. Andy releases his hold on your hips and smacks your ass before pulling the top of your dress down enough so your tits spring free. He pays extra attention to your nipples, knowing how much you like it.

After a few minutes, you change from grinding to bouncing up and down on his cock as best you can on a lawn chair. You can already feel yourself close to an orgasm. “Andy, please. Gonna cum. Need help. Please.”

He repositions a little so that his left leg hangs off the side of the lawn chair and plants his foot on the ground. He grabs the back of your head with his left hand and pulls you down until you’re chest to chest, pulling you into another kiss. He takes his right hand and moves it in between you so he can rub your clit.

He uses the little leverage he has with his foot and starts thrusting up into you, hitting your g spot from this position. You moan into his mouth.

“Fuck, baby girl. Squeezing me so good. Won’t last much longer after you cum. Need to fill you up.”

You’re both now just panting into each other’s mouths. “Please Andy.N-need it. Need your cum.”

“Yeah? Need me to fill you up, huh? Yeah you do. Gonna fuck a baby into you sweetheart.”

And that’s what does you in. You cum with a silent cry, your hands digging into his shoulders.

He only lasts a few more thrusts before he gives into his own pleasure. You can feel his warm spend filling you up as he slows his thrusts down, eventually coming to a stop. You both take a minute to catch your breath before you make eye contact and burst out laughing.

“Can’t believe we just fucked on a lawn chair in our neighbors backyard.”

He pulls you in for a sweet kiss. “I fucking love you, Mrs. Barber.”

You smile. “I love you, Mr Barber.”

He cups your face and brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, smiling when you press a kiss to it. “Think we better get home, sweet girl. Before I take you on this chair again.” As he says this, you can feel him start to harden inside of you.

Startled at how quick he’s ready to go again, you quickly get up and let out a hiss as he slips out of you.

You right your clothes as best you can before grabbing your phone and helping him up.

He tucks his cock back into his slacks as best he can with a hard on and zips and buttons them up. He grabs your hand and starts practically pulling you towards your guy's house.

“Hurry up baby. That pussy isn’t going to fill itself up.”

You were in for a long night.

Tags: @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @patzammit​ @bluemusickid​ @wanderinglunarlights  

[spahhzy]

Little Scenario in my head:

Give me a feral, Andrew.

Cultists take Ashley away, Andrew straight up tortures a left behind cult member, i.e., chopping off each of his fingers until he talks, he does and then Andrew summons Lord Unknown by offering up the cult member, makes a deal with him to get his sister back.

Cut to Ashley tied up and bound in some warehouse by the seaside,poised and ready to be sacrificed to whatever demon comes through. leader of the cult tries to summon Lord Unknown to no avail, thinking they fail they decide its best to just kill Ashley and just as they were about to darkness comes and a small portal opens up, the cultists are thinking 'oh yeah our dark lord is here' but to their shock it's that same boy from a few weeks ago who forgot the robe and boy does he looked pissed.

It's pretty much a massacre for the cultists as Andrew just slaughters them one after the other with his cleaver.

All while this is going on, Ashley is watching in awe and admiration at seeing her brother come from the depths of hell itself to save her.

Plus, he was tooootaly hot.

At last its just the leader who's pretty muched trapped with nowhere to go, but Andrew doesn't kill him just yet, he turns his gaze to Ashley and she looks into his eyes, and she is not sure who she see's, It's not Andy and it's somehow not Andrew.

"Oh LeyLey, you silly girl"

Ashley shudders pleasantly at that.

He walks up to her standing right next to her before bringing the knife to her cheek.

"Is this punishment-making me worry so much"

Ashley shakes her head.

"Now look at us...covered in blood and surrounded by dead bodies...all for my Leyley, I suppose." He glides the knife underneath her cheek before taking the knife to the rope that bound her.

Now free, Ashley hugs her brother tightly, to which Andrew reciprocates as they both relish in each other's presence before they are made aware of the Cult leaders' presence.

"Well, my dear Leyley, what shall we play today?" He asks as he fimbled with the big knife as him and Ashley stalked up to the cult leader.

"Well, Andy, I think it's only best if he suffers a punishment befitting the most serious of crimes, don't you?"

Together, they both nodded before they summoned Lord Unknown once more, this time offering the soul of the cult leader as he looked at the siblings.

"Tar soul" it acknowledged Ashley

"Vessel," it said to Andrew before disappearing.

Ashley looks at Andrew, who just brushed it off, not wanting to go into detail about anything ready to just leave.

-

[detectivebambam]

you know i gotta do an actual (k)andreil as cats

Andrew

grey cat

pink nose and beans this is very important to me

he's a tiny little thing but absolutely hates humans < normally just hides from them but if you do find him and try to pick him up, he'll scratch you

he does have a few humans that he likes, and he'll snuggle up in their laps to take a nap. if they try to pet him he will leave

Neil

orange cat with feral eyes like you can just tell it's a little crazy

always trying to fight something, even if it's just a shadow

sometimes goes missing to go snuggle with the grey cat

stands on counters

has no negative or positive feelings towards humans but would rather hang with other cats

Kevin

fancy ass black cat whose name is probably "Richard" or "Thomas"

will only eat Fancy Feast. if you try to give him kibble he will stare at you

prefers humans to cats. one of those big cats that will just jump up on your lap and purr

collateral damage when orange cat and grey cat decide they're fighting now. gets stepped on 😔

[seekdevotion]

*          𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒     𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃          :          mw fcs & personality types maybe ? this looks so good !

first of all : love you sweat ! i will point you towards 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 meaty mw fc list, bc many good points were made. but ! i'll also take this moment to self advocate and some will b repeats ... i would go absolutely feral for ella purnell ( duh ), laura harrier, jessica chastain, avan jogia, ben barnes, zion moreno, cillian murphy, blanca padilla, oscar isaac, margot robbie, tom hardy, alexa demie, riz ahmed, samara weaving, zendaya, tom holland, mimi keene, logan lerman, adelaide kane, victoria pedretti, andrew garfield, penelope cruz, emma mackey, charles melton, bill skarsgard, adam dimarco, medalion rahimi, natasha liu bordizzo, dua lipa, archie renaux, robert pattinson, freida pinto, florence pugh, dev patel, jessica alexander, oliver jackson cohen, halston sage, kiowa gordon, lily james, madelaine petsch, jordan connor, hande ercel, phoebe tonkin, nick robinson, savannah lee smith, emily alyn lynd, henry golding, rachel zegler, josh heuston, paul mescal ( i actually can't talk about it... ), daisy edgar jones, rami malek, lily rose depp, aron piper, adria arjona, olivia cooke, and that's just off the dome... now as for personality or character types ? why don't you go ahead & read more for some that have come to me ;)

any and all of the bunnies of mona awad's bunny - pretentious and beautiful budding literary icons , diehard devotees of "the aesthetic" ( or part of a cult most likely )

local carmy ? brilliant , celebrated , seemingly stuck in devo due to some unfortunate emotional ( or physical ) ties - maybe managing the diner or cheffin' it up at the whaler

ex - sea captain who is now devoted to hunting for treasure - both geocache and pirate style . some townspeople think they've lost the plot but others have noticed they really have a knack for this . obviously , quite the casanova

a well liked ghost therapist . came to town years ago as a ' spiritualist ' / more of a lowkey con artist medium but really came into their own in this environment

the seraphic matchmaker , wholesome , in love w love , just wants everyone to be happy , strikes gold every time to the point it is giving witchcraft , world's best and most in demand bridesmaid as a result !

charming and charismatic town official , great at drawing in a crowd and overseeing all the best local events . old money ( as much as you can be in this town , bc their family has always been here ) so obviously corrupt w very questionable morals

THE barber who does put everything you say in their chair on blast via their town meme page / finsta but customers stay loyal bc the only competition has a much darker reputation ( plot twist : and they were roommates ! )

ofc , new in towns / tourists with shady motives , to keep the locals on their toes

[jtl-fics]

I'm sorry you're stuck on hold. Could I get math nerd with neil being unhinged and feral? Thank you <3

WIP Wednesday (7/12/23) - Closed | Math Nerd AU

"You're worried about that and you want me to let you go alone." Andrew stalks towards Neil who does not flee and Andrew hates their height difference in this moment as he has to look up to stare Neil down. He grabs Neil by the collar and drags him down to even the playing field, "Now I'm saying you can't go. Give me your phone I'll text the little reject." Andrew demands.

"I'm going to the training at Evermore Andrew and you are not coming with me." Neil reiterates but Andrew can see a vein start to bulge.

He needs to keep pushing.

"You can't actually stop me any other way than not going yourself." Andrew says and can see Neil work his jaw as he bites back his initial response.

He's close.

"Is this some sort of hero complex? No one likes a Martyr Alex." he spits the name he has coveted for years like a curse, "I'm not the pathetic child I was back when I needed you to save me from Drake. Don't mistake me for him." he releases Neil's collar.

It's only then he sees that he's succeeded. He's just not sure if this is what he had actually wanted.

[facewithoutheart]

Kicking this off because I’m finally, finally, getting back to my COBB, All I Ever Wanted was the World, in earnest.

It started with this Troye Sivan song:

And it ended with this section that I’m currently feral over:

“Does speaking your name grant absolution?”

“It could. If you need it.”

Baz smiles down at my hands. “Simon.” He gives them one more squeeze and pushes to stand. “I’ve got to fix my makeup for the finale, but I’ll send in Gareth to give you a once over. Make sure you’re okay.”

“Check my wings? Fluff my tail?”

“Something like that.”

He pauses at the exit, raps his fist on the frame once before looking back at me. “I’m glad you’ve found us. Simon.”

I sit up straighter. “Even though I started a brawl during brunch?”

“You didn’t start it.” His hands slides slowly down the frame. He presses his cheek against the wood. “Sure did finish it, though.”

I’m not a big hurt/comfort writer but Baz taking care of Simon after a fight was super fun to explore. GENTLE TOUCHING. I died the whole time.

Tagging some people who commented on the first chapter to say hiiiii I haven’t forgotten this fic @bookish-bogwitch, @thewholelemon, @raenestee, @fatalfangirl, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @cutestkilla, @ileadacharmedlife, @gekkoinapeartree (ps Andrew in Drag now makes a cameo!) & @captain-aralias ❤️❤️ && of course my amazing artist @yellobb &&&&&& the original fan and motivation to write this fic @martsonmars

[codename-adler]

Sunburns! (@stabbyfoxandrew)

thank you @stabbyfoxandrew for allowing me to nerd out <3

Adler’s PiPs ~ Project: Sunburns

if my memory doesn't fail me (which it ALWAYS does), i believe the start of PiP: Sunburns goes back two years, with this little piece i wrote. basically i craved violence and thus the idea of feral Jeremy was born. i know fanon is in love with the Trojans getting their first red card in defense of Jean, and for Jeremy to get it, but i wanted more. as much as Jeremy would allow Jean to find the light, i wanted Jeremy to be allowed to tap into his darkness. NOT THAT JEAN MAKES HIM GO MORALLY GRAY. Jean does not ask for anything. it's more like a mama-bear instinct? at least that's what Jeremy tells himself at first. he'll come to realize, on his own and as Laila and Alvarez point it out to him, that it's definitely more than that.

because the Trojans cannot be as 'damaged' as the Foxes, per their status, the uni they play for, the big team they have, etc., i still couldn't resist giving the characters some touch of angst, because that's what i do, duh. difference is, Trojans have more resources, sympathy and means to deal with their shit. or they're just better at repressing shit, i.e. Jeremy Knox. that's why i say Jean's presence and being allow Jeremy to let go of the obsessive control he has over his person. while Jean never asked for anything from his new captain, and though he isn't impressed by Jeremy jumping to his defense, it sort of... comforts him, to see that Captain Sunshine isn't as peachy and sunny as he would like people to believe. that this little bit of darkness in him means Jean won't be tainting him with his own dark presence. that Jeremy can understand things, Jean's things. Jean is not scared. it is admittedly a tiny bit weird to witness rage not aimed at himself, but for himself. that he is real, and alive, and in fact so real and alive that people, Jeremy, are actively fighting for him to stay and live his life to the fullest.

but what is the fic about, Adler? well: it's a 5 + 1 thing format. of course, 5 times Jeremy went feral for Jean, and 1 time... eh, haven't figured that one out yet.

1 time Jean went feral for Jeremy? 1 time Jeremy didn't need to because Jean handled it himself? 1 time Jeremy went soft for Jean? 1 time the Trojans went feral for Jean? or 1 time Jean went feral for the Trojans? 1 time Jean went feral FOR HIMSELF? 1 time Jean realizes he truly is a Trojan? 1 time the Trojans realize Jean really is one of them now? i! don't! know!

i do have the 5 times where feral Jeremy lashed out, and i hope these will allow you to glimpse at just how serious i am about Jeremy going apeshit:

0.5 The OG incident that pushes Jeremy to do a thorough background check of every Raven (this fic is also me pushing my hacker!Jeremy agenda)

1 Jeremy goes after a Raven (classic)

2 Jeremy goes after a Trojan stepping out of line

3 Jeremy goes after a reporter, privately and publicly

4 Jeremy goes after a Fox [redacted]

5 Jeremy goes after Ichirou & the Moriyamas

as for the title, the draft remains titled "Sunburns" because it's the shortest version of all the titles i'm considering, all inspired by the idea that being the sun doesn't mean just 'light'. the sun is a ball of burning fire. it was upon playing around with that that i stumbled upon this PERFECT quote by Ilona Andrews (i have no idea what book this is from tho):

He bared his teeth in a happy feral grin. My own personal psycho.

that's what i got for now! i'll post updates when i start writing from the outline i have.

coming soon in an Ao3 near you!

if there's a project of mine you'd like to know more about, head over to the pinned post on my blog titled "Adler's WiPs" !

<>

special thank you to my dear Ukamushu who was the first to know about this project and who let me share my thoughts and helped me in return with hers. i love you forever 🤍

[aventvrina]

What about idv? And hsr ofc

Send me a fandom -still accepting! -@halothes

Identity V

The first character I first fell in love with:  it was actually Ann ! When her trailer came out i remember seeing it on twitter and being heart eyes at her (still can't play her tho lmao) The character I never expected to love as much as I do now:  Frederick, with each update he gets better and his involvement in Ashes of Memory is so -chefs kiss- The character everyone else loves that I don’t:  Alva...I get it cause of the whole Luca lore but he's just kinda there for me tbh The character I love that everyone else hates:  Joker (surprise surprise) I know the crimes I will fight for this man, he did all the wrongs in the world and deserves all the karma he gets but that's my lil mew mew. the fandom can cry in a corner they can't handle evil men that aren't conventionally attractive The character I used to love but don’t any longer: ehhh Orpheus, it's not that i don't like him anymore but he feels so flat lately The character I would totally smooch: let me give Ithaqua a big smooch on his forehead my baby The character I’d want to be like:  My god don't wish that upon me (maybe Margaretta cause she classy) The character I’d slap:  Undead and all his mains fuck you all A pairing that I love: Anne and Ganji they need to marry, open a toy shop & live happily ever after (margejoker too but it's mostly cause simp and unattainable muse) A pairing that I despise:  I don't think there's a pairing that I hate. Maybe Antonio with Andrew? Just cause I don't get where it comes from (but then again half the fandom ships are like that so)

Honkai StarRail

The first character I first fell in love with: Serval and I am still feral about her The character I never expected to love as much as I do now:  Bronya, she grew on me specially after the most recent trailblaze mission in Belobog The character everyone else loves that I don’t: Tingyun but i blame it on the story she kinda did nothing for me i hope we get to know what's made of her tho The character I love that everyone else hates: I'm not sure she's hated but I love miss Cocolia Rand. I know she's an npc, i know she's dead (rip the queen) but that's my emotional support weekly boss battle and her fight in the main story is still the most satisfying moments in game The character I used to love but don’t any longer: I don't think i feel out of love with anyone tbh The character I would totally smooch: Aventurine ONE CHANCE PLEASE The character I’d want to be like:  Asta so I can have her bank account The character I’d slap:  Jingyuan's ass A pairing that I love: i mean the brain rot is fresh so AvenDay. But also KafkaBlade these two -grips them- A pairing that I despise:  Danheng and Blade need to stay 50 meters away from each other at all times. Idk if it was the fandom, idk if it was the quest but i really can't see them as a ship

[thedivinevera]

HEY ! HEY ! HEY ! Why don’t we give Isaac from ZsakuVa some attention… like to hear how he develop feeling for the listener against his will… watching them over the cameras … studying them … smiling at them when they had there back to him … small gifts like a book or chocolate … fighting his feelings just to notice it’s so late …. and being overprotective when guests came PLS PLS PLSSS

Fucking right babe, that man gives a lot of protective and obsession vibe than everything, Isaac experience lost many times, from the dead of his parents to the dead of his friend, so it's just natural that he never want to loose you. You become too close, to nice, to sweet, to seductive to his liking at it messed up his entire moral code.

The first symptoms of obsession is just a simple morning, hello, how are you until it turns to "where are you going", "don't leave, it's to dangerous", "stay with me it would more safer" and finally blossom to stalking and watching you behind the hidden camera. He of course would deny it, his in the stage of denial, thinking that this is normal (no it's not) "its just for their safety, they trust me and its my job to protect them" that's what he said but in reality it's start of a flare of real obsession

Second symptoms is the gift giving. It's normal at first, little trinket there and here because you've been a good, until he become addicted to your smile that he would give you random gifts just to see your smile, the reason this is second is because it becoming more visible, and you've becoming aware of the action and weird affection you're getting to your boss

And the last and crazy of all is the feral action from him, like his some sort of territorial wolf that would attack anyone who would hurt their mate, the difference is no is attacking you and you're not even his mate... Last time a man flirt to you jokingly, asking Isaac to give you to him which in Isaac reply to his joke is a full strength, hard punch that turn this poor man's nose into a flat coin. You need to apologize to the man many time and treat his injury which make Isasc jealous it become worse when you give him cold treatment, too scared because of his feral action which makes Isaac beg you to forgive him

And for the grand finale the realization, man... It really takes a flat nose just for him to realize that his completely in-love and obsessed with you, he's now becoming more clingy and romantic which makes you feel the ick because wtf, why your cold boss just suddenly turn into a dog, asking for your attention and approval

But of course it doesn't mean it's always this confusing and scary sometimes it's adorable and cute like just what I said, he act like a dog. He would always call your name and show you so project of his, remember the time he said that he likes literature, yeah he would make you read tons of research, poem and wait for approval, if he has a tail it will definitely wiggle. He would also want to be with you at first it's all just presence bit now he wants to touch and hug you and it will definitely become worse once you admit that you like him to. He's is a silly man:))

(hellyy sorry for late reply, I'm honestly not really a Isaac man, I have a one side rival with him because you cannot convince me that this man already move on about his ex (Andrew Marston) and as an Andrew fan and simp, this is not good..... But maybe I'm just delulu, so again sorry for being inactive from zsakuva fandom lol)

[denimbex1986]

'To quote Erika Jayne, it sounds like filmmaker Andrew Haigh is about to give the gays everything they want with the upcoming release of his queer romance All of Us Strangers starring Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal.

The film follows Adam (Scott) as a lonely writer who falls for his mysterious neighbor, Harry (Mescal). The steamy relationship that ensues causes Adam to reexamine his past and visit his childhood home, where he encounters his deceased parents (Jamie Bell and Claire Foy), living as they had decades prior.

In a post-screening conversation with Haigh at the American Film Institute, Scott Feinberg of The Hollywood Reporter asked the director to discuss the process of developing the chemistry between his leading men.

“We went to a concert together in London,” Haigh shared. “And I could tell that they were really into each other because they completely ignored me for most of the day and they were just talking to each other and putting their arms around each other.”

The bond that developed between the pair was palpable, and Haigh shared that the two are still good friends now: “Andrew had a birthday recently and Paul was there,” he said.

Haigh seems to be referencing the same celebration in which a photo of Scott and Mescal went viral last week. The photo, which shows Scott and Mescal appearing to do shots at a gay bar, had fans going feral online.

But fans aren’t the only ones showing their enthusiasm. Critics are raving over Haigh’s fourth feature film, calling it a “haunting lullaby “ as well as “tender and heartbreaking.” Others have singled out Scott as “at the height of his talents” for his leading performance.

“I really think if you can get actors that want to work with each other, that care about working with each other, then there’s chemistry already there,” Haigh said in the AFI Fest Q&A. “Because they want it to be the best it can be.”'