#somewhere between rightful saint and friend

[barnbridges]

my funniest tsh take is that... the class deified bunny in his murder, the way he would have wanted to be remembered. what is he dead, besides a god worshipped? dead they all wnat him, think about him. for the rest of their lives. they think of *how* he was, how bright he used to shine, how well he had them fooled. it's a joke within itself, and they love him dead more than they ever would have had he lived.

[anto-pops]

Fissured Composure - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: After watching you hold your own against a handsy classmate, Sebastian is feeling particularly needy and steals you away to the Undercroft to show you just how worked up your right hook got him.

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian reverently going down on you after you break Leander's nose

Based on this request I received! Hope you like it anon :)) 

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, minor violence, explicit sexual content, rough sex

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 as always !

Many of your friends would agree that you had the patience of a damn Saint. 

Beyond dealing with Sebastian’s hard-headedness on a regular basis and keeping up appearances with your classmates, it was a wonder you had managed to maintain your cool, collected facade for so long. You could recall losing it once before, shortly after Professor Fig died. But the whole debacle had gone down in the safety and privacy of the Room of Requirement, so no one had been around to witness your indignant anger take root and assist you in trashing two thirds of your sacred space. 

That had been two years ago, so you liked to think you’d gotten better at controlling your emotions since then.

Leander fucking Prewett, however, had seemingly made it his life’s mission to frustrate you to no foreseeable end.

While you had felt bad for him in your fifth-year and entertained his rambling mostly out of pity, somewhere along the way your lack of interest got lost in translation. He was a rather boastful individual, preferring to brag about himself and put down anyone that excelled in areas he wanted to be the best in. His attitude had only worsened with age, and for the last few months he had suddenly taken to attempting to woo you in passing. 

His efforts were too pathetic to take to heart, but you certainly hadn’t told Sebastian about it yet. Not unless you wanted to trigger a fight that you knew you wouldn’t be able to intervene in, because the whole reason Leander was even trying with you was to get under your boyfriend’s skin. 

Today was Wednesday, and you shared Herbology class with Leander, much to your displeasure. Your attempts at escaping out the door quickly had been thwarted when Professor Garlick asked to speak with you after class, and despite hoping against all odds that you would be left alone, Prewett was waiting for you at the top of the steps when you ascended the staircase. 

“Ah, there you are,” he drawled, with far too much familiarity for your liking. “Did Professor Garlick hold you back to scold you for something?” 

You grasped at the fringes of your self-restraint with everything in you. “No, we were just discussing some extra assignments she gave me last week.” 

Wanting to leave the interaction at that, you picked up your pace and strode past him, eager to meet up with Sebastian and Ominis for lunch. At the very least, Sebastian’s presence would act as a safeguard against Leander’s incessant pestering. Unfortunately, the Gryffindor had no qualms about lengthening his stride to match your own, and he fell annoyingly into step beside you. 

He raked one of his hands through his long strands of red hair, trying and failing to raise a brow at you questioningly. Instead he just looked constipated. “Wow, extra assignments? You must be some child genius turned prodigy, I can’t think of anyone who willingly says yes to more homework.” 

“...I’ve been doing it for two years, Leander.” 

Waving you off, he pressed on, “Then you’re way smarter than you let on.” What? “Not that I’ve heard otherwise from anyone, but someone as bright as you likely values intellect and wit, and I can’t help but notice Sebastian is in short supply of both these days–” 

“Leander, now really isn’t the time.” Not this shit again. You pushed through the double doors leading to Central Hall, desperate to put your two Slytherin companions in between yourself the daft idiot tailing you. 

“Oh, come on. I’m only suggesting we take some time to study together. Or maybe we could take a stroll through the Library since you’re so fond of books. Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for sneaking into the Restricted Section, although sometimes I wonder how much reading you actually do when you disappear there with Sallow.” 

By now you had made it beside the fountain in the middle of the room, but your legs halted entirely when you registered the implication hidden in his words. One of your nails broke as you dug your fingers into the cover of your textbook, and you willed the thrum of your blood roaring in your ears to lessen as you finally pivoted to face Leander fully. 

Your expression was stormy when you fixed your eyes on his beady ones, and you allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the nervous bob of his throat. “What is it you think I do then, Leander? What vapid, tasteless thoughts do you have whipping around in that giant head of yours, hm?” 

At least he had the good sense to look sheepish, but he masked the look quickly with that false bravado that made your hands twitch. He raised his arms in a gesture of surrender, “Relax, doll. I’m just connecting the dots out loud. What does your prized boytoy tempt you with to convince you to break the rules so often?” 

Merlin’s bloody balls, if you didn’t leave now, you were going to lose it in the middle of the school. There was no hiding your blatant scowl of disgust, but you found the frayed tethers of your composure and grabbed the ends like a lifeline. You pulled a deep breath into your lungs, exhaling in a way that conveyed your thinning temper, and turned to walk away. 

You saw Sebastian standing on the other side of Central Hall talking to Garreth, and he was spying over the redhead’s shoulder to watch you. His face was contorted into a dark, threatening expression, and you knew he could read your own emotions plainly on your face. He was well aware that you were pissed off, and he jumped into action then, muttering something to Weasley under his breath before he was striding across the foyer to get to you. 

You’d made it roughly three steps away from Leander when you suddenly felt his slimy hand slithering around your waist to haul you back against his chest. The brazen action took you by surprise, which was the only reason the bastard succeeded in squeezing the curve of your hip so generously. The feeling had you tensing all over, and you dimly registered Sebastian’s murderous expression nearing the opposite side of the fountain before your own anger took root. 

“What, you’re not even going to dignify me with a response? That’s awfully cruel–” 

A faceful of your fist cut him off mid sentence, and you watched through your narrowed eyes as Leander’s head flew back, his momentum carrying him to the ground in a sprawled, limp heap. You heard a series of gasps erupt from the students that were seated nearby, but you didn’t care. It took you a second to process the scene as you blinked the rage from your mind, but once you had, you were pleased to find Prewett’s nose hugging his cheek at a very broken angle. 

“There’s your response, you prick,” you swore at him, bending down to snatch up your Herbology textbook that had fallen from your grip. Your knuckles throbbed from the impact still, but you simply flexed your fingers and shook the pain away. It felt good to get that out of your system, and entirely worth the bruises you would surely be sporting in the morning. “Do yourself a favor and stay the hell away from me, or I’ll be happy to show you exactly what I’ve learned from the books in the Restricted Section.” 

As soon as you moved away from Leander, a group of younger students were flocking to his side, wisely giving you a wide berth as you left. Sebastian was frozen still as a statue on the other side of the fountain, looking at you slack-jawed with admiration twinkling in his dark eyes. You smiled softly at him, the look so at odds with the feral energy you had just exhibited twenty seconds prior.  

“I– what the bloody hell was that?” Sebastian asked at the same time you circled your arm around his waist to lead him away from the bleeding Gryffindor. 

“It was well deserved, that’s what it was,” you replied evenly, and then you felt Sebastian’s fingertips digging into the small of your back. “Don’t worry about it, please. He won’t bother me anymore, that’s for damn sure.” 

Sebastian’s laugh sounded breathless, and he shook his head in disbelief, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you. “Oh I’ll definitely be needing the backstory to that whole altercation at some point, but I’m more hung up on the fact that you actually punched somebody. You never get physical like that, where in Merlin’s name did that come from?” 

You’d been leading Sebastian towards the Great Hall, having had your mind set on lunch for the better part of a half hour. But then you felt Sebastian take control of steering, and instead of turning down the corridor that led to your destination, he instead appeared to be guiding you in the direction of the Dark Arts Tower. “You’re acting like it’s unheard of for someone to lose their temper. In case you forgot, Prewett is particularly insufferable. Today he crossed one too many lines, so I reeducated him. End of story.” 

“I don’t think you understand,” Sebastian murmured as you came up the staircase leading to a familiar alcove, and things suddenly started to click into place. “That was quite possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever done.”

All the blood in your body seemed to flood into your cheeks then. Sebastian gazed down at you hungrily, whipping his wand out briefly to unlock the latch concealing the entryway behind the large clock. It opened with a clang, and before you could formulate a response to his statement, he was gently pushing you through the opening ahead of him. 

While the two of you descended the narrow stairwell leading into the Undercroft, Sebastian replayed the glorious sight of your wicked right hook in his mind. He didn’t know what the hell Leander had been whispering to you about, but the look on your face had told him it wasn’t anything pleasant. Being the chivalrous and overprotective boyfriend he was, of course he’d bailed on his conversation with Garreth to step in. 

Watching Prewett’s offensive appendage coil around your waist had sealed the deal, however; Sebastian had fully intended on sending the Gryffindor into an early grave. But then you’d dropped your items and spun around so fast– your textbook was still falling when your fist connected with his nose. It wasn’t the most tactful means of defense for a lot of people. After all, in a world of magic, who the hell bothered with brawling? There was no denying the appeal of it though. It was a more personal way of telling someone to go fuck themselves, and watching you set your boundries in such a way had driven Sebastian’s blood supply straight to his cock. 

He liked this unrestrained side of you. He was desperate to see more of it. 

Once you were past the threshold of the gate, you stopped to turn to Sebastian, ready to clarify that seriously– was he this affected by you throwing a punch? But then his larger body slammed against you, stealing the words from your throat as he captured your lips in a frantic, hungry kiss, and you were manhandled into his arms so he could walk the two of you over to the lounge stuffed away in the corner of the room. 

As soon as your ass made contact with the velvet cushions, Sebastian broke away so his hands could get to work on hauling your skirt down your legs. The ferocity of the movement nearly sent you flying to the floor with the attire, but then the freckled man was moving back into your personal space so abruptly, your teeth knocked together before he began biting and sucking at your bottom lip. 

“Fuck– Sebastian, what the hell’s gotten into you?” The pain from his ministrations quickly blurred together with the unmistakable arousal pooling between your legs, and when he pressed the pad of his thumb roughly against your clit through your soaked undergarments, he swallowed your shaky moans with a nefarious kiss. 

“I have to have you,” Sebastian murmured as his hands came up to remove your blouse, exerting a smidge more self-control than he did with your skirt so he didn’t render your uniform unusable afterwards. There was still the matter of school technically being in session, but after watching Leander put his hands on you, Sebastian was feeling especially possessive, and seeing you lay the brute out like it was nothing made his thirst for you seem borderline unquenchable. He asked hurriedly, “Merlin’s balls, let me eat you out– please?” 

You shivered as he undid the last button on your shirt and slipped the material over your shoulders, tossing it to the stone floor alongside the rest of your clothes. Having long since given up on wearing your bras after Sebastian ripped the straps of your last two, you were completely bare– an open invitation for him to begin kneading your breasts and pinching your nipples hard enough to make you arch into his touch.

He took full advantage of your close proximity and latched his lips over your thundering pulse, sinking his teeth into the skin to work a mark there, and you nodded shamelessly when you felt his fingers slip beneath your underwear. 

“O-Okay. Alright– fine, but take this off,” your hands tugged at the collar of his shirt, ardently conveying that if you were going to let him satiate himself, the least he could do was let you look at him.

Sebastian was obliging you in a heartbeat, pulling away from your spread legs to wriggle his tie loose. It hung messily around his neck– just enough for him to swiftly begin undoing his button up– and the entire time he worked to shed the clothing, his dark, penetrating gaze never left your flushed body. Once the front of his shirt fell open and he’d discarded it, you were met with the tantalizing sight of Sebastian’s toned, freckled chest. The mouth watering trail of hair running below his navel paved a path to the tenting fabric of his trousers, and as soon as Sebastian caught you staring, his brown eyes were darkening impossibly further. 

Prowling forward with feline grace, Sebastian smirked as he lifted his tie off of his shoulders to drape over your head. He didn’t bother tightening it, instead letting it hang in a disheveled heap between your breasts, and the sight did more for him than he cared to admit, his cock straining uncomfortably in his trousers. But right now wasn’t about him– not really– it was about you, and Sebastian’s reverent need to please you. 

“Hold that for me,” he purred down at you before he was dropping to his knees in front of you. 

A brilliant flush swept up your torso as his warm, broad hands came to finally slip your drenched panties away from your aching heat, gliding the material down your outstretched legs without tearing his eyes away from you. Goosebumps broke out all over your skin when the chill of the Undercroft passed over you, and your breath caught in your throat when he eagerly licked his lips and sidled up to the edge of the couch. 

Sebastian looped his arms under your thighs, tugging you closer to him so that your ass dangled precariously off the cushions, causing you to shiver under his unyielding stare. He nudged your legs up onto his shoulders, casting a mischievous look your way before he was nuzzling his face into the sensitive skin of your legs, and the adoring kisses he peppered up the apex of your thighs had your stomach tensing in anticipation. 

“Do you think we could try sparring one day?” Sebastian asked randomly, teasing his fingers closer to your dripping folds before pulling them away entirely. The dejected sigh that slipped from your lips made him chuckle darkly, and you narrowed your eyes at him as his question finally processed. 

“Sparring? What the hell for?” 

He shrugged, jostling your raised legs as his fingers dug firmly into your hips for a modicum of restraint. “I think I’d enjoy getting thrown around by you. Do you think you could?” 

Merlin– he had officially lost his mind. “Maybe? I wouldn’t want to hurt you, though.” 

Something wild sparked behind his irises then, and he began placing lingering kisses in the hollow of your leg. “I would love it if you did,” another soft press of his lips, this time right beside your aching center. “Seriously, when we do, promise me you won’t hold back.”

“You’re actually insane,” you wheezed out as his next kiss fell directly against your clit, and your nails dug fitfully into the padding of the lounge at the featherlight feeling.  

“Only for you, darling.” Sebastian’s grip on your hips tightened as he mercifully sealed his mouth over your cunt, and your head kicked back against the sofa with an audible whack as your shrill voice suddenly echoed off the walls of the cavernous room. Your next breath was stolen from you as you felt Sebastian’s tongue circle over your clit, pressing and dragging the muscle down your heat to lap up as much of you as you could– and you swore you’d never been so wet in your fucking life. 

By some miracle, you didn’t pass out from the overwhelming bliss, but you sure as hell saw stars dancing in the corners of your vision when Sebastian tongued at your tight entrance. The sordid sounds coming from the brunet between your legs was enough to have you clenching your thighs on either side of his head, and the blatantly aroused groan it pulled from his throat reverberated against you perfectly. 

“Fuck, Sebastian,” you whimpered, snapping your hands up from the seat to fist in his curly, brown locs, and when you pulled him against you harder, he moaned at the sensation of your nails scraping against his scalp. He switched tactics then, shaking his head from side to side softly to rub his lips sinfully over your bundle of nerves. The friction was dizzying, and you brazenly bucked your hips against his chin to chase your steadily mounting pleasure. “Merlin–” 

Sebastian was utterly transfixed by you. Through hooded eyes, he watched rapaciously as you crumbled above him; your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and the ever darkening flush that decorated your skin made the green of his tie around your neck stand out even more, acting like a proprietary flag that claimed you as his. You cracked open your eyes to stare down at him, and your stomach flipped at his unbridled, lust-filled gaze boring into you. 

Sitting forward more, Sebastian wound one of his arms over the angular curve of your hip bones, simultaneously pressing you harder into him while preventing you from shifting around. He mouthed sloppily against you, and you were left to balance your leg over his shoulder when he dropped his other hand to begin teasing at your soaked hole. He pressed the tip of his finger in slowly before withdrawing it completely, and he repeated the same motion a few more times until you were on the verge of tearing a fistfull of his hair out. 

A keening sound ripped from your chest when he removed the digit slower than before, and you could feel Sebastian smirk against you. “S-Stop teasing,” you stuttered, your voice strained and airy.

Sebastian pulled away with a conniving chuckle, and the sight of your slick coating the entirety of his lower face damn near killed you on the spot. “I’m trying to take my time here– you taste so fucking sweet.” 

His finger was back, sliding into you once again– only this time he spared you further torment by burying the appendage inside of you to the knuckle and curling it deliciously upwards. You gasped, arching off the back of the lounge in some vain attempt to feel more of him, but his strength pressing into your hips held you firmly in place, and a legitimate whine tumbled from your swollen lips. 

He set an achingly slow pace, focusing more on wiggling his finger inside of you before pulling it back to thrust in again, and your throaty groan was cut short when Sebastian’s mouth reappeared on your cunt. He lapped at you furiously, working your brain into a tizzy with the rapid flicks of his tongue against your clit, and the cord in your gut was wrought tight as your climax roared to life in the far reaches of your mind. The wanton moans that slipped from Sebastian were electrifying, and the intensity of his ministrations increased when he added a second finger to the mix. Any pain or discomfort was nonexistent; all you could focus on was the sheer exhilaration his efforts brought you, and your hands tightened in his hair to silently warn him that you were close. 

Leaning sideways for a better angle, Sebastian rolled his head against your inner thigh to peer up at you. Once your glazed over eyes landed on him, he let his mouth hang open in an obscene manner to lewdly flick his tongue over your nub at the same time he stroked your inner walls, and that was as much as you could take before you were crying out for Sebastian loud. Your orgasm hit you with the force of a train, stealing your breath and making your muscles tense so hard that your boyfriend’s face was effectively crushed between your trembling legs. 

Sebastian took everything that you inflicted upon him in stride; the stinging drag of your nails through his hair, as well as the suffocating squeeze of your thighs on either side of his head. He relished in it– and he positively lived for how he could make you fall apart in such a way. His cock concurred with his thoughts, twitching enthusiastically against the confines of his trousers. 

The freckled, Adonis incarnate before you rose to his full height after you had the good grace to release him from the stifling confines of your legs, groaning softly when his fingers slipped out of you. Sebastian regarded you with a predatory look that promised more, and you swallowed thickly as you watched his hands languidly work to undo the catch of his pants.

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Sebastian’s brows pinched together with blatant need as he scanned your prone form against the sofa. “Fuck, do you have any idea what you do to me?” His imposing stature over you– shirtless and flushed, with his chest rising and falling from the strained breaths he pulled into his lungs– it had your heart hammering wildly against your sternum. You shook your head. “Then I’ll show you,” he vowed, and the timbre to his voice seemed to reignite the fire burning in your veins. 

Working quickly, Sebastian shoved his trousers down to his thighs, pulling himself out of his briefs with a needy groan. He gave himself a few testing pumps, tipping his head back slightly when his fist squeezed around the bright red tip, and then he was zeroing in on you like you were the only thing in the room he cared to pay attention to. You were still quivering in your spot on the lounge when Sebastian stepped forward, hauling you upright by the tie around your bare neck to spin you around so you were kneeling on the cushions with your front pressed into the backrest of the couch. 

It took everything in you not to sink back down on your wobbly legs, but then you felt Sebastian’s hands running down your back towards the shapely curve of your ass, and he squeezed at the skin there greedily before lining himself up with your spit-slick cunt. Far too eager to feel his cock inside of you, you watched over your shoulder as Sebastian gingerly pressed into you with a low, raspy moan, and your fingers dug into the backrest so hard, your knuckles blanched white. 

Despite his urgency, Sebastian took his time rocking his hips into you, drinking in your sweet little sounds as he filled you up and slid home. “Fuck,” he breathed, leaning forward to rest his head between your shoulder blades as he buried himself to the hilt. His hands moved from your ass to your waist, holding you still with bruising strength as he got used to the sensation of your hypersensitive walls contracting around him. Your breaths were coming out fast and shallow, completely overwhelmed by the sheer size of him compared to his fingers. Having already come, you were like putty in Sebastian’s hands as he ground his cock into you firmly, and you felt him twitch inside you when your head fell forward against the upholstery of the seat with a gasp. “Fuck– you’re so wet still– feels so fucking perfect.” 

When Sebastian pulled back to torturously thrust into you slowly, your hips rocked in tandem against him, and he redirected his eyes up from where the two of you were connected so he could drink in the expression on your face. Your lips were parted around a choked moan as he moved inside of you, those beautiful, luminescent eyes of yours sparkling with rampant affection and arousal, and his tie swayed around your neck in sync with his movements.

Sebastian hunched forward, lifting one of his hands to rake through your disheveled hair and pull your head back towards his shoulder, and you cried out suddenly before the sound transformed into a filthy moan that only served to spur Sebastian forward faster. His hold on you was unrelenting, effectively bending you backwards against his sweaty chest as he increased his pace and began spearing his cock into you with brutal efficiency. 

It didn’t take long for him to start hitting the deepest parts of you, the thick head of his shaft curving up to graze deliciously over your sweet spot with every rough thrust. Your eyes rolled back in your skull, shameless noises spilling from your lips as Sebastian folded you backwards onto his cock to satiate himself. That familiar feeling blossomed low in your gut, and one of your hands flew back to dig your nails into the bare skin of Sebastian’s thigh behind you. 

“Fuck, fuck, Sebastian–” your warbled voice was like music to his ears, pulling the corners of his mouth up into a devilish smile. His next thrust was particularly forceful, and the incriminating sound of skin slapping against skin filled the Undercroft, seemingly harmonizing with the cacophony of noises that the two of you created together. “Merlin–” 

Sebastian growled, releasing your hair to trail his hand across your front and curl around your throat. He tightened his hold there, squeezing just enough so that your walls clenched around his cock as he upped his tempo. You were completely enveloped by him, held fast to his damp chest as he ruthlessly pounded into you, and the lack of oxygen to your brain numbed everything else as your second orgasm loomed threateningly overhead. 

Overcome with telltale urgency, Sebastian chased his own pleasure desperately, bucking his cock deep into your clenching heat, wringing choked gasps and stuttered cries of his name from your open mouth, and he was fucking dizzy from how good it felt to be pressed against you, holding you tight in his arms. Sebastian tugged you closer to him to latch his lips over the sweaty skin below your ear, biting and sucking a mark there as he propelled his hips upwards inside of you. 

There really wasn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from frantically rutting back in search of that building euphoria. You rode back onto Sebastian with as much give as you were allowed, your eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure and your thighs shaking from how good Sebastian was fucking you, filling you up deep and hard and fast, just how you liked it. The way he slammed you back down onto his rough thrusts by your throat only added fuel to the fire, leaving you a sloppy, gasping, pleading mess in his arms. 

Sebastian released his ironclad grip around your waist to snake his hand lower to your sensitive clit, and your head fell back against his shoulder as he started rubbing firm circles over the overstimulated nub. Your voice strained against his uncompromising hold on your throat, “Fuck– Sebastian, please–” 

“Come, darling, come on my cock. Let me hear your pretty noises, I’m so close,” he muttered the command against the shell of your ear, railing his cock into you so fast and so harshly, you had no choice but to oblige him. 

Sebastian watched as you crumbled against him for the second time, utterly in love with the way your spine rounded as you sank into him, every part of your body trembling. Your walls tightened impossibly further around him, causing him to gasp into the crook of your neck, and Sebastian slammed his cock into your incredible cunt— nearly mindless from how you shook against him— and he fucked you clean through your orgasm until your sounds and body yanked him right over the edge with you. His dark eyes rolled shut, growling your name through his clenched teeth as his pace faltered before he was burying himself deep in you with a heady gasp. 

The feeling of Sebastian emptying inside of you rendered you boneless, leaving your boyfriend with the task of keeping you upright as he ground his hips against your ass, milking himself dry with broken whimpers before halting his movements entirely. His hold around your throat loosened, and the rush of blood returning to your brain was akin to pure bliss alongside the remnants of your climax. 

“Fucking hell,” he groaned after a few heated seconds, relaxing his grip on you so that he could slide himself out before gingerly lowering the two of you down onto the cushions together. Your hands slipped from the back of the couch and fell into your lap as Sebastian maneuvered you into a sitting position, your body too limp to even bother moving yourself. “Are you okay?” 

You gave him a nonplussed blink as you willed your brain to function properly again, and then you nodded shakily. “Shit, yeah. I had no idea your bloodlust would turn you into such a lunatic, though,” you muttered, and Sebastian’s bellowing laugh roused you further from your post-coital state. 

“It’s not bloodlust, darling. It’s you,” he countered easily, a smug smile playing on his freckled lips. He tucked his softening cock back into his briefs and tugged his pants back up over his hips before moving away from you to retrieve the scattered pieces of your uniform. When he reappeared with the ball of clothing, you took it graciously, staying seated on the couch as you worked your underwear up your unsteady legs. “I was serious about the sparring thing, too. I think it would be fun watching you let loose.” 

You shot him a hesitant look, not particularly keen on his eagerness to get bloodied up at your hands, but his excitement at the thought was palpable, and you found yourself relenting to his ludicrous idea with a sigh after a few beats of silence. “Fine,” you conceded. “But only once. I don’t care how horny it makes you– I don’t like the thought of hurting you, no matter how easy it is to fix broken bones here.” 

He had bent down to snatch his button up off the floor, but paused on his way up to glance at you with a pleased expression on his face. The shirt was momentarily forgotten as Sebastian fell to his knees once again, only this time it was to cradle your face in his warm hands and pull you in for a toe curling kiss. His thumbs traced along your cheekbones as his tongue delved deep in your mouth, and you sighed contentedly. The gentleness that always followed these heated moments between the two of you was, without a doubt, one of your favorite things. 

Sebastian broke away to pepper a quick succession of lighter kisses all over your face, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his reverence. “Hell yes, whatever you want. I’ll do it wearing a damn ball gown if that’s what it takes.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re barking mad?” 

He smirked, far too pleased to be hearing you say so. “From time to time, yes. Don’t lie, you love it.” 

Your eyes twinkled with amusement, and fighting your smile proved to be easier said than done. “I love you. Your crazy ideas, however, I take with a grain of salt.” 

From there, he stood fully to throw his shirt over his shoulders, and you mirrored his actions, redressing yourself as quickly as your shaky legs would allow. Once finished, you slipped Sebastian’s tie off of your neck, draping it over his shoulders with a coy smile, and you felt his arm coil around your waist to tug you flush against his front, stealing your lips in another steamy, doting kiss. You returned the gesture with equal fervor, rising to your tip-toes to trail your hands up into his hair to scratch shiver-inducing stripes down the nape of his neck. 

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity before the screeching gears of the metal gate drew your attention, and you pulled apart at the same time Ominis strode into the Undercroft. His face was contorted in concentration, his wand sweeping across the room until he seemed to sense that yes, his two best friends had indeed abandoned him in the Great Hall to disappear into their shared space. 

“Where the hell have you two been?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm that you were truly there. His outstretched wand pointed towards you both as he made his way to the back of the room. “I thought we were meeting for lunch, I’ve been entertaining idle gossip for the better part of a half hour. What is it that I keep hearing about Leander getting punched in the face?” 

At that, you stepped away from Sebastian, adjusting your skirt slightly before bashfully rubbing the back of your neck. “Ah, yeah. That was me,” you confessed. “Word travels fast. What exactly is being said?” 

Ominis cocked a brow at you as he came to halt a few feet away, a strange look passing over his features as his wand pulsed in your direction. “Rumor has it you broke his nose. Please tell me this isn’t going to become a regular occurrence– I can hardly keep up with Sebastian coming to blows with students as it is.” 

“It won’t, don’t worry. I doubt he’ll even come around me anymore after this.” 

Sebastian snickered under his breath, eyeing you with a proud look that reminded you of your recent escapades, and you blushed under his knowing stare. “If Leander knows what’s good for him, he won’t so much as glance in your direction for the rest of the year. But on that note, I’m famished. Anyone up for food?” 

“I’ve been ‘up for food’ for thirty minutes,” Ominis muttered as he turned on his heel to head for the gate. The three of you fell into step alongside one another, Sebastian’s hand brushing against yours as you walked towards the exit, but then Ominis was pausing mid step, tilting his head up to… sniff the air? How odd. “Merlin’s beard, it smells like sex in here.” 

You snatched your hand away from Sebastian’s to slap your palms over your eyes in embarrassment, every ounce of blood in your body rushing to your head and heating your cheeks as you willed the floor to open up underfoot and swallow you whole. Your boyfriend, however, only laughed. 

“We had to work up an appetite before finding you,” Sebastian mused, unashamed at having been caught by the blond man. “Sorry, Ominis. I’ll send an owl next time.” 

“Please stop fucking in the Undercroft. I’m too scared to sit down here anymore– I can’t tell whether I’m avoiding your cum stains or not.” 

“You’ll want to steer clear of the lounge for the foreseeable future, then.” Sebastian fired back instantly, not a lick of chagrin to be detected in his voice. “That’s a mess you’ll want to avoid.” 

“Please stop talking,” you grit through your teeth, and the coquettish expression on the brunet’s face warranted a sharp look from you. “Or I can’t promise I won’t punch you in the face next.” 

“Didn’t we just establish that I want you to go that route? Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

Ominis threw his hands up in utter exasperation, shaking his head in disbelief at Sebastian’s gall before damn near sprinting to leave the Undercroft, and the two of you were forced to skip after him as he ascended the staircase to head for the Great Hall. Even after sitting down and piling food on his plate, Sebastian continued to oggle you from his seat across the table. Every so often you would feel his foot nudge your calf, trailing the appendage up your leg to play with the hem of your skirt. 

Despite your earlier mortification, he did a stellar job of brightening your mood, and when Ominis groused over his mug that the two of you should just get fucking married already, Sebastian looked at you wonderstruck, and he seemed to seriously consider it. 

[fahye]

book recs: june 2024

it's been a weird few months of swinging wildly between mood reading of new things and needing to reread old favourites. all of these were new-to-me, and * means I read an ARC so they're not out yet BUT keep your eyes peeled/preorder if you like the sound of them.

SOMEONE YOU CAN BUILD A NEST IN by john wiswell - sapphic monster romance but make it asexual rep (woo!) between a protagonist who is usually a ball of shapeshifting goo, and a woman whose awful family is trying to hunt down the shapeshifting monster. it's both delightfully gruesome and a sweet, angry story about two hurt people finding and saving one another. this book deserves to become tumblr-famous.

LORD OF SCOUNDRELS by loretta chase - an absolute platinum-level classic in regency romance history, and for good reason. jessica trent: best heroine to ever appear on the page. wild hijinks, superb feelings, jessica can we please be best friends so you can teach me all about your antiques dealership.

THE SAINT OF BRIGHT DOORS by vajra chandrasekera - everyone describes this as 'impossible to describe' and they're right. truly original urban-ish fantasy about the oppression of underclasses, magic, identity, the inconvenience of being prophesied to kill your father, and a support group for failed messiahs. it's splendid and will stretch your mind like a muscle.

ALL THE SINNERS BLEED - by s.a. cosby - a contemporary crime thriller about a black sheriff in the american south trying to catch a serial killer in the face of systemic racism and obstruction. dark themes, wonderfully written, extremely gripping: I read it in a day.

THE UNDERHISTORY by kaaron warren - an elderly woman running tours of her infamously 'haunted' family home is confronted with a group of dangerous escaped killers looking for somewhere to hide. half slowburn crime horror and half a fantastic, meandering exploration of one person's history. you all know I love a vaguely fucked-up house, and this one comes with an older protagonist hiding secrets of her own.

THE DEATH OF VIVEK OJI by akwaeke emezi - there's a new emezi book coming out soon so I finally let myself read this one! a brief, bittersweet slap of a novel about gender and sexuality and family and longing, told in emezi's uniquely electrifying prose style. I wish I could write like this.

THE FRIEND ZONE EXPERIMENT* by zen cho - zen's first contemporary romance! inspired by kdrama tropes! a hardworking singaporean entrepreneur heroine in london! I enjoyed the romance itself but even more I enjoyed watching renee fight to prove herself in the face of various terrible men.

THE FORMIDABLE MISS CASSIDY* by meihan boey - if susan sto helit is your favourite discworld character, you will love the hell out of this. no-nonsense magical governess deals with folklore monsters and social drama in 19th century singapore. lively and heaps of fun. I wish it was an episodic buffy-esque tv show.

THE PAIRING* by casey mcquiston - two exes accidentally reunite on a food & wine tour of europe for the sluttiest and most self-indulgent bisexual summer ever. food porn, drinks porn, european scenery porn, feelings porn, porn-porn: this is a book that is 95% Various Vibes and Porn and if that sounds like your kind of thing, you'll love it. warning: will make you very hungry.

[moonstruckme]

Hii honey!! I hope you’re doing good, would you be willing to write about the reader trying to quit smoking weed and either Sirius or Remus helps her through it <3. I’m currently on day 2 of quitting and it’s SO HARD, but it’ll be good for me

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! Hope quitting is going okay for you, I've heard the first week is the worst but I'm rooting for you!

cw: weed (reader isn't smoking but is around people who are), reader has hair long enough to reach her neck

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 844 words

The sound of Marlene flicking her lighter reaches you like a siren’s call. You can hear it from across the room, your head turning towards her automatically. She raises a blunt to her lips, smoke pluming from between them a moment later. You know it’s impossible, but you think you can smell it already. You breathe in like you can taste it. 

“I’m spent.” Sirius’ voice sounds like it’s coming from faraway, but his hand wrapping around your thigh is solid. It brings you back to your side of the room, where your boyfriend’s looking at you with a jovial grin and a knowing flicker in his eyes. “You ready to head out, gorgeous?” 

“I could stay longer if you want to,” you say, trying to tell him it’s okay. Even if there’s an insistent tugging in your middle, a familiar ache in your lungs, dying to bring you to where Marlene sits. 

Sirius doesn’t hesitate. “No, I think I’d rather get you to myself.” 

James groans for show, but his expression is fond as he watches Sirius pull you up from the couch and tug you playfully into his side. He loves seeing his best friend in love; he’s told you directly more than once. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. “Rem’s off somewhere with Lily, but I’ll make sure he’s up in time.” 

“We could always push until the afternoon,” Sirius tries, grabbing both of your jackets from where they’re slung across the back of the couch. You feel a bit like you’re in a daze, the headache that’s been pestering you all day suddenly an insistent throb. 

“Fat chance.” James waves you both off with a laugh. “See you bright and early, Pads.” 

“Wanker,” Sirius mutters as you turn away, but he doesn’t stop to argue further, guiding you out of the party while you both call hasty goodbyes to your friends. When Marlene raises her hand in a wave, your vision narrows on the blunt between her fingers as you smile in reply. 

Outside, the night air is fresh and pleasantly cool. Goosebumps skitter up your arms, and you take your jacket from Sirius, letting him hold your bag while you shrug it on. 

“I thought we might walk home,” he says, watching you with something hidden in his expression as you pull your hair out of your collar and take your bag back. “Does that sound good?” 

“Yeah,” you agree, starting in the direction of Sirius’ place. Walking is good for your head when the cravings are bad like this, you’ve found. Your boyfriend knows this. “Thanks for getting me out of there.” 

He falls into stride beside you, slipping a hand into your back pocket like that’s where it belongs. “Figured I ought to do my part in keeping you out of trouble.” 

You huff a laugh. “Doesn’t sound much like you.” 

“I know.” Sirius’ nose wrinkles. Somehow he manages to make even that look pretty. “Look what you’re doing to me, sweetheart. I’m disgusted with myself.” 

You roll your eyes, and he grins, squeezing your butt playfully through your pants. Your laughter rings out sharply on the quiet street. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” you assure him. “You and your friends are still terrible influences on me.” 

Sirius gasps loudly. His hand slips from your back pocket and he fists both in the front of your jacket, a grin slicing across his face as he yanks you closer. “That so?” he asks in a low voice.

It’s impossible to keep your own lips from curving. “Mhm.” 

“I resent these accusations. We’ve just left a house full of saints. You can see their halos glowing right above their heads.” 

“Then you’ve had more to drink than I thought.” 

Sirius’ laugh rings out, loud and stomach-flipping. He kisses you soundly with a smile on his face, fingers still bunched in your jacket. “Really,” he says, slipping an arm around your waist as you start walking again, “do you want me to tell Marls not to smoke around you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking it outside.” 

You take a deep breath. Remind yourself that the air clearing your head instead of muddling it is a good thing. “No, that’s alright. I’m going to have to get used to it eventually.” 

Sirius makes an agreeable humming sound. He presses a kiss to your temple. “Proud of you, sweetheart.” 

You huff a laugh, though the words start a pleasant buzzing in your chest. “Sap.” 

“Don’t tell Jamie.” 

“Oh, I’m telling him.” 

“No,” Sirius says firmly, as if you can’t hear the laughter in his tone, “it’s only for you. If you tattle on me I’ll have to stop doing it.” 

You roll your eyes, going quiet. It’s not so much an aquiescence as a contented silence, but you let your boyfriend take it for what he will. He squishes you up against his side fondly. 

“I am, you know,” he says, voice softening with sincerity. “I’m proud of you, baby.” 

You suppose that for now, that can be enough for you.

[totaly-obsessed]

Hi! Can you do a Mary earps and reader fic where the reader is England medic or coach and all the team love her and Mary is soooo proud and in love but also wants all the attention from her girl plwaseeee

Comfort

Mary Earps x reader request

-> Reader is the Lionesses medic, and also Mary's wife

-> Talk of Alex Greenwood's recent injury

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Mary loved National Camp – all her friends playing together, representing their country. But her favorite thing about it? Being with you 24/7.

As one of the teams’ medics and physios, you accompanied them to every training and game, wearing your wife’s jersey beneath the team jacket. And it was not one of the shirts that you can buy, but one of Mary’s personal ones, one from the euros. So not only were you a good-luck charm but you were also wearing one.

Mornings at Saint George’s Park were your second favorite, right behind breakfast in bed with Mary. While you definitely were not a morning person, your wife was and the early training start didn’t help you either, so at eight in the morning, you were sat at a table in the dining hall – a steamy cup of coffee in front of you, just as you liked it. Mary had given it to you when you returned from your shared room, having to go back because you had forgotten your bag.

The brunette was currently getting food for the both of you, while you tried to wake up with the coffee. “Doc!” You were in fact not a doctor of any kind, but Lucy didn’t care either way and just threw herself down in one of the chairs next to you. The defender handed you a small chap-stick-like tube. “It’s a wake-up-stick. Thought ya could need it.” You smiled at her gratefully, thanking her with a quick squeeze of her hand. After applying the stick, you waited, and while you didn’t notice an immediate difference it smelled nice.

“Aye Miss Earps! How have ya been?” It was Ella’s loud voice that eventually pulled you out of your sleep-induced trance. The younger girl sat down next to you – in Mary’s chair - as she excitedly told you a story of something Alessia had done, who sat on her other side, followed by Garce. Eventually, Esme, Hempo, and Maya joined in as well. The table had become too small after Grace sat down, but no one cared. The footballer just pulled in more tables and chairs, making the circle bigger and bigger until Mary finally came back. “Oi, what’s this then?”

The entire Lionesses squad had squished around a couple of tables, exited chatter filling the room, with you somewhere in between. “Up ya get Tooney.” The brunette could whine and pout as much as she liked but Mary was ruthless, wanting to sit next to her wife. You thanked her with a quick kiss, rolling your eyes as you heard Rachel yell “There’s children here – perverts!” Your favorite goalkeeper was quick to yell “And you’re one of them!” back at the blonde as the table started laughing.

You loved this. While you were not a part of the team that was on the pitch, the girls loved you. For you, and not for being Mary’s wife.

After eating you had to leave earlier, needing to set up the treatment room, checking if everything was where it was supposed to be. Georgia was the first to come in, wanting some numbing cream on her ankle as she had an incredibly sore bruise there. Next was Ellie, who got her neck taped as she had some tension there. After all the smaller complaints had been dealt with, your very favorite patient entered the room, hugging you from behind to announce her arrival.

“My turn, Lovie.” It was a nice little ritual you had built up over time – Mary would sit down and apply ice spray to her hands before you started taping her left one, laying a kiss on top when finished, before repeating the same thing for her second hand. Then came your favorite part – taping her shoulders. After making sure that no one else was in the room and that there were no cameras your wife would take off her shirt, pulling the straps of her sports bra to the sides as well as she could.

This was also the brunette’s favorite part, as you massaged her tense shoulders, layering them in soft kisses – marveling at her muscles as you started taping them. “Like what you see, my love?” She would always ask, a teasing smirk on her face before she would pull you into a passionate kiss – the last one both of you would get before the end of training.

It was the last day before the England-Belgium game and the small training session had gone by without any problems, sending the players to recovery.

But it was the next day, matchday, that you and your abilities would be tested.

In the seventh minute, the game was interrupted with a call of ‘handball into the area by Chloe Kelly’ which meant that there would be a freekick for Belgium in an incredibly dangerous position. Mary had set the girls up to her liking but the ball was struck with perfection, curling nicely, and finding the back of the net – leaving your wife to catch the rebound ball as she laid on the ground. It was devastating, knowing that she would blame herself for it. But it was only the seventh minute, leaving the whole game up for grabs.

And then it happened.

In the Eighteenth minute, a long ball from the Belgian goalkeeper found its way to the other side of the pitch, leaving Alex Greenwood and Jassina Blom to collide with their head against each other. Directly in front of the England bench.

Before the blonde even hit the ground, you had started running with your colleague grabbing the bag.

Alex was lying head-down on the pitch as the stadium got silent in shock. You kneeled by her head, getting as close to her as you managed. “Can you hear me, Alex?” But you quickly noticed that she couldn’t answer you, she was in too much pain. “Tap your finger once for yes, twice for no. Can you hear me?” One tap.

She was still conscious.

“Have you had more than one concussion before?” One tap.

Fuck.

Knowing the risks of multiple head injuries, it was important to react in a proper manner. Most of the players were standing at Sarina’s side as she gave instructions, but you could feel their scared stares finding you again and again as you tried to hide Alex from the world. Mary didn’t stand too far away from you, terrified that you were on the pitch. As much as she loved you, when you were on the pitch something bad had happened.

You were checking the injured player’s pulse and her pupils, as everything showed signs of a terrible concussion – but with previous injuries, this was a ticking time bomb. Just a minute later the field doctors entered the pitch, stretcher in hand as they walked towards you.

The Belgian player sat up again, a bandage on her head, but it was too risky to sit Alex up. Any sudden movement could send her into a seizure and the aftereffects could be immense. With all of the doctors at your side now, you carefully turned the player on her back, after getting confirmation from a professional you had placed a wet rag over her eyes, trying to shield them from the harsh lights.

Mary was standing behind you, offering her legs as something to lean against, which you gladly accepted as her teammate was heaved onto the stretcher as carefully as possible. In the 31st minute, Alex was finally stretchered off by the medical professionals as you sat back down in your seat – heart pumping incredibly fast.

The game was lost, Belgium winning 3-2 the shock of Alex’s injury still sitting deep.

Back in the team hotel, it was quiet, they had not only lost an important game, but Alex their friend and teammate was in the hospital.

Mary sat next to you on one of the big couches as some of the younger ones looked for comfort in the two of you. It was Chloe who just blatantly sat down in your lap, cuddling into your wife and yourself looking for warmth and shelter. And it did not take too much longer until you were covered in players as they flocked towards you like a herd of lost sheep that were looking for comfort.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇- PT.2 C.4-forget her

Taglist: @cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow

Previous part, Series masterlist

The silence was awkward, the tension between the two of you obvious. Kiara couldn’t wait to get off this damn truck.

Once the truck stopped at its destination, the three of you all hopped out. You looked around.

“Come on. My boats down here.” He said, you and Kiara followed him down to the dock.

“Make sure your shoes are off.” He said when he jumped in.

You and Kiara were still on the dock, hesitant.

“Okay, we should have enough juice to get us to Saint Lucia, no problem.”

“Hey, get in the boat.” He grunted out to Kiara and you, looking at you now.

“You’re not gonna pull anything if we get in?” You asked him, your arms crossed.

“No, I’m not gonna pull anything, okay? I’m trying to do you guys a solid here. You really wanna be back there with Singh or do you wanna be somewhere safe?”

Neither of you answered.

“Now can one of you please help me with the bowline?” He asked her.

You followed her into the boat, and you went over to the bowline. You began to undo the knot when Kiara tapped your shoulder.

“Let me do it.” Kiara whispered, glancing at Rafe and back to you.

“What? Okay…” you shrugged, ignoring it for now. You stood behind her as she went over.

“I can’t get it!” She yelled.

“What?” He asked, looking at her now.

“I need some help!”

“Goddamn, do I have to do everything?” He hopped down, over to the cleat

When he undid it, you didn’t see Kiara behind you now, she ran into you, pushing you off instead of Rafe.

Rafe looked at her, confused. Before he even had a chance, she was pushing him off as well.

You and Rafe fell down into the water, gasping for air. She shouted your name.

“Go, Kie! Go!” You motioned, the water splashing as your hands hit it.

“I’m sorry, y/n!”

“Kie! Hey! Kie, where are you going?” Rafe shouted.

“I’ve gotta help my friends!” She shouted back, driving the boat away from the two of you as Rafe shouted at her.

After his tantrum, you swam to the dock, your once white shirt now see through.

“Oh. My. God.” You grumbled, looking down at yourself, putting your arms over your chest.

Could this day seriously get any worse?

Rafe swam soon after, his fist clenched and his head pounding.

He looked you up and down, before walking away. You followed behind.

—————-

“Wait, where’s my sister?” Jj asked Kiara when he pulled away.

She grimaced, her face falling.

“Kie. Where is she?” His smile was gone now, his confusion and anxiety replacing it.

“I… we ran into Rafe. I didn’t trust him, but she was in my way… she’s alive. But…” Kiara admitted, looking shamefully at the ground.

“You mean she’s with that fucking psychopath right now?”

“I wanted to go back to her, Jj, I would have but… she told me to go.”

“We’re not leaving this island until we find her.”

—————

“This is exactly why I always fuckin’ say never trust them.” He mumbled mostly to himself.

“She doesn’t trust you, obviously.” You told him. Your arms were crossed over your body, trying to shield it.

“After I helped you both escape?”

“I can barely trust you.”

“Seriously? Are you still mad about-“

“Don’t even, Rafe.” You warned.

“I apologized, I’m sorry, I don’t know what else you want me to do!” He exclaimed.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m an asshole? I was gonna save your ass until she pushed us off-“

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with you again.” You told him, a small frown on your face as you walked off the dock.

He rolled his eyes at your complaining, turning to you suddenly and putting his hands on your shoulders, his eyes boring into yours. “I’m sorry. Okay? Now could you please, just bear with me for a second?”

“No.”

“I’m being serious, y/n. I’m your only hope at getting back to Kildare.” He pointed to himself, taking one hand off of you.

“I have a plan but you have to listen to me.” He continued. You sighed.

“Fine. But as soon as we get back-“

“You’ll never have to talk to me again.” He said. But the thought of it had him reeling. He would make you fall in love with him again, no matter what it would cost.

He took his hands off your shoulders. Looking behind you, he noticed a man staring at your wet shirt, your bra visible under it.

“You got a staring problem?” Rafe barked at him quickly, you turning around to the man now as well. The man quickly turned around, and Rafe shook his head.

“C’mon.” He told you. He ended up buying, or rather stealing a jacket for you, putting it over the cold, wet shirt you had on.

You both walked in silence through the island, Rafes hands shoved into his pockets.

He looked at a man, stopping in his tracks. You furrowed your eyebrows and Rafe just gave you that ‘trust me’ look.

“Hey, man.”

“Huh?”

“Sorry. Sorry to bother you. Um.. I have the perfect gift for your wife. It’s like a great price too.”

“Yeah?”

“So this, all through here is where all the tourists shop, but the real deal is like right back here.” He pointed to an alleyway, you quickly catching onto his idea.

“It’s a great local spot.” You chimed into the conversation, a small sweet smile on your face as you looked at the man.

“I don’t know..” he hesitated.

“Just trying to help you out.” Just real quick, you wanna..?”

“Okay.” He agreed, you followed him.

“It’s got like some of the best custom jewelry on the island. It’s incredible.” Rafe told the man, leading him to the alley.

“Uh, just right back here.” You followed them.

You held the man back, putting him in a chokehold against the wall.

“Do we have to?” You asked Rafe, looking at the petrified man and back at Rafe.

“It’s not that hard.” Rafe groaned, punching the man in the face, knocking him out. He cracked his knuckles, watching you set the man gently onto the ground.

Rafe grabbed his hat, and you dug into his pockets, grabbing his wallet.

“So sorry, so sorry.” You mumbled as if he could hear, walking away from the body.

“Where are we going now?” You asked Rafe.

He nodded to a boat in the distance.

“All right, all aboard to Guadeloupe.”

“How you doing, boss?” Rafe asked, you following behind.

“Good. How are you?”

“Living the dream. You got some sun since you took this photo, man.”

You handed the man your fake id, it checked out.

“Enjoy Guadeloupe.” He told the both of you. You gave the man a smile and walked next to Rafe.

“What the hell are we gonna do in Guadeloupe?”

——

“Fuck no, Rafe! He- he-“ you pointed to the man sitting outside.

“I know, I know what happened, but you gotta listen. This is the only place we have to go right now, and- and I can’t have either of you freaking out on each other- ‘aight?”

“I’m out of here, Rafe. I’m done with this shit.” You told him, turning around but he grabbed your wrist.

“You have nowhere to go. Please. It will only be for a little, then I can find you a way back to the outer banks.”

You groaned, looking at the man outside and back at Rafe.

“Fine. But is there like a phone I can borrow, because-“

“I’ll get you a phone. Just please, stay here for a little.”

Rafe went outside to Ward, Ward nodded over to you, standing inside, running a hand over your face.

“What’s she doing here?”

“Long story. I just- she has no where to go and-“

“Do you trust her?” Ward asked him suddenly.

Rafe furrowed his eyebrows.

“Do you trust her?”

“I- I don’t know- I-“

“Do you or do you not, Rafe?”

“I.. I do. She’s not gonna do anything, she has nowhere else to stay and it’s too dangerous here for her to. Please. Just let her stay.”

Ward sighed. “She can stay, but the second I see her try anything-“

“She won’t.”

They talked for a while, Rafe sitting down next to him.

“Theres something I need you to do for me right now, okay?”

“Name it.”

“I need you to go back to the Outer Banks. Kildare.”

“Why?” Rafe asked, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“There’s nothing there for us, not anymore. I need you to wrap everything up for me, all right? I need you to see the businesses, sell the rental properties.” He paused. “I need you to sell Tannyhill.”

Rafe spluttered, looking at Ward in disbelief. “Wait, we’re selling Tannyhill? Is that what you said?”

Ward looked to him, nodding. “Yeah.”

“W-why? What are you talking about?”

“It’s not our home anymore. This is. This is our home now.” He leaned back in the chair. “And it’s a clean slate. It’s a new beginning, a new path. And I need to take a bigger role, all right? You can forget about her.” He nodded to you again. “Can I count on you for that?”

Rafe hung his head down, looking at you from the window. You stared back at him.

He can do everything else, he’s just not too sure he can just forget you though.

“Of course, yes. Of course, dad.” He said, looking back at his father.

“Yeah, all right, good. Listen, I got some papers inside. I’m gonna bring them. We’re gonna go over them. Tell you what to do, and while you’re gone, I am going to be taking that cross and looking into it.” He stood up, Rafe standing as well now.

“We have that cross because of you. You got it for us, and you saved it. I just need you to be careful. You get in there, handle this business, drop her off, and you get back here safely. All right? You’re a Cameron. That still means something.”

When his dad went into the house, he gave you a small nod and smile. You just kept looking at Rafe through the window, and he stared right back.

[captain-mj]

I’m on my hands and knees BEGGING you for a stripper au 🙇🙇🙇🙇

Of course!! I've been dying to make one of these!!

Soap should not be here. He's a college professor for fuck's sake. He makes decent money but it's the principle of the things. Why would he go to a strip club when he could go to the bar and actually go home with someone?

But it was what his friends had invited him to do and he went along with it.

He tried not to overthink his clothing or the chances of him seeing any of his students there.

Soap ordered a scotch and tried to find somewhere to sit. It was a mixed club with men and women. It seemed... a little seedy despite the more expensive feeling of the place. Something about the entire thing felt off. He brushed off his feelings, blaming Catholic judgement for it.

Chuy had amassed a group of men and women around him to listen to his cryptid facts. He occasionally passed them money so they were making something but they were also choosing to stay next to him.

Gaz was staring at Chuy, trying to understand how he managed to do that.

Alejandro had disappeared... somewhere.

Soap took a sip of his drink, liking it at least. He doubted it was anything too fancy but it did the job just fine.

Pretty people went past him. Some flirted or tried to get him to take a lap dance, but he wasn't interested. They were nice, but not really his type. Nor did he want to blow a bunch of money just for the sake of it.

Soap found a place to sit where he could watch the stage, trying to see where everyone had disappeared to.

There was someone his type. Tall. Dressed in black. Broad shoulders and burly chest. Makeup all around his eyes. Pretty eyeliner.

The man, Ghost if his name tag meant anything, looked more like a bouncer than a stripper. But he was shirtless with just a mask and tight pants and he was eyeing Soap.

Big doe brown eyes staring into him, silently asking if he wanted his attention.

Soap was very happy there was an ATM nearby. With a confidence that was very much faked, he motioned for him to come over.

Ghost walked over. He didn't bat his eyelashes or immediately straddle him. He just stood between Soap's legs and looked down at him, almost like he inconvenienced him.

Soap put a twenty in Ghost's pocket and that look melted away, replaced with something much nicer.

"You look lonely."

Fucking Brits. Of course he was British. That didn't change that Soap's body had a visceral reaction to his voice.

"It's cause I am. Come to give me some company?"

Ghost laughed at him. It made Soap shrink back and his cheeks flushed. If anything though, it made him a little harder in his jeans. "You're cute. Name?"

Soap looked down his body, admiring the hard muscle and the slightly softer stomach. His hands fidgeted. "Soap."

"You can touch. And my name is Ghost."

Soap was immediately all over him. He'd like to use his mouth but that would be a little much in such a public area.

It would occur to him in exactly six hours that one of the biggest rules about strip clubs is you don't touch the dancer. And that Ghost had not let anyone else touch him that night. That would be in six hours though and right now, he was just marveling at the scarring along Ghost's body.

They were impossible to see with the club lighting, but he could feel them under his fingertips. The texture similar to a scar he had on his hand from dropping a knife.

He squeezed his eyes tight and gripped Ghost's sides. Ghost's hand grabbed his chin and made him look up. Dark eyes inches from his face.

"You alright, love?"

Soap shoved more money into Ghost's hands. "How much for a private dance?"

"I don't usually do those."

Soap must've looked distressed because Ghost, the saint, took pity on him. "Fine. How much do you have?"

"Three hundred dollars."

"I'll give you an hour."

Soap nodded and followed him excitedly. He didn't miss Ghost's amused glance.

The man grabbed the pole, slowly spinning around it as he watched Soap sit down. "You're adorable."

Soap blushed more and dropped his money at Ghost's feet. "Going to lose the mask?"

"You don't want me to. Trust me." Ghost jumped up and spun faster, suspending himself and expose his chest more.

"You ugly under there?"

"Quite the opposite."

"Worried I'll fall in love with you?"

"Absolutely." Ghost spun around slowly and arched his back. "Can't have you following me home, vying for me attention."

Soap felt himself getting hard. His body moved with such fluidity and grace that it was hard to not think of how it would feel to be underneath him. To have Ghost grabbing his hips. Would he prefer to be on top or bottom? He was more than happy either way. As long as those fucking abs were pressed against him, he could live with it.

Ghost crossed over to him and straddled him. He was so much bigger. So much fucking bigger. "Your hands go below my belt and I'll get you banned."

"Yes, sir."

"I like sir."

"Anything you want, sir." Soap smiled at him and put his hands on Ghost's waist. He ground down on him, the pressure against his body making him half crazy. His hips jerked up and Ghost paused, glaring.

"Don't move."

Soap took a deep breath and nodded. Ghost started to move again, letting Soap get a good look on him. It was so easy to imagine less clothing. God, he'd bankrupt himself to have Ghost riding him like this. His pants had slid down to see his v-line.

Soap slid his hands further up and touched his throat. Ghost purred and pressed in harder. "You're a pretty guy, you know that?"

Soap blushed more. "Thank you, sir."

Ghost stood up and trailed his hands between Soap's thighs, so tempting. Was he actually going to?? To touch?? him?? He was hoping for a lot here but his hands were getting so close.

Gaz knocked quickly. "Hey, Johnny, we gotta go. Right now. We're getting kicked out. Alejandro flirted a little too much with his favorite stripper."

Soap felt his heart sink. "Wai-"

Ghost stood up and fixed his pants. "Oh. You're Vargas's friend?"

Soap cringed. "Ah. Is that a bad thing?"

"Get out."

Soap moped the entire night, being extra mean to Alejandro for ruining that for him.

"I think I just missed the love of my life."

"He was a stripper. He just wanted your money." Chuy pointed out. He was currently washing the phone numbers off his arm. All of them were glaring at him.

Soap went to bed and maybe cried a little. Just a little. He refused to be that heartbroken over a guy he met for five minutes. His dick was heartbroken though.

Fucking Vargas.

He couldn't blame him too much. It was Rodolfo he had been flirting with. Those two had been chasing each other for ages and now Alejandro just blew as much money on him as he could until he ran out and Rodolfo kicked him out for it.

Soap crawled out of bed that day and went to work. He passed all of his colleagues, still thinking of those dark eyes and gorgeous body.

"Professor MacTavish." One of his colleagues greeted him as he passed.

Soap froze and turned around. Dark eyes. Gorgeous body. Ginger hair.

Professor Riley, someone Soap barely interacted with, stood there. Cardigan wrapped around him. He wore a medical mask thanks to self proclaimed "hideous" scarring.

"Hi..."

Ghost looked at him. "Yes, MacTavish?"

"I..."

Ghost tilted his head, looking confused. "Something wrong?"

Soap shook his head. "No..."

Ghost nodded and turned away to keep making his tea.

[marinerendevouz]

enemies to lovers with fine + switch !

ft. eichi tenshouin, yuzuru fushimi, tori himemiya, wataru hibiki & natsume sakasaki, tsumugi aoba, sora harukawa

eichi tenshouin

• listen. hear me out here. being the younger sibling of rei and ritsu.

• SO many opportunities for silly shenanigans to ensue

• i can imagine eichi being the one to attempt (keyword: attempt) to court you first

• which obviously, considering his history with rei, is honestly REALLY WEIRD?

• you’re just like . What the fuck are you doing while eichi like . Winks at you or something

• seriously so awkward. you hate his guts tbh and are planning on his downfall together with rei

• ritsu finds it so So stupid. probably gossips ? gossipED ? about you with eichi at tea club . eichi was kicking his feet and giggling the entire time

• part of him doesn’t believe his crush is genuine at first. he thinks that it’s amusing, obviously, but real feelings ? he is simply not allowed to feel those…

• until now that is !

• he thinks your snarky remarks and nonchalant gaze are enrapturing

• meanwhile, you: (ʘ言ʘ╬)

• you accompany rei and ritsu to ensemble square quite often, which means you are (unfortunately) greeted by the presence of eichi almost Daily. A Nightmare for sure

• as time goes on, you see how hardworking and charismatic eichi is while performing his duties as executive for starmaker productions and well. even You can’t deny it’s a little attractive. ONLY a little (a lot)

• once eichi catches on to you reciprocating his feelings, he is SO ANNOYING!!!

• teasing gets way wayyy worse. honestly it’s over for you, personally i would have kms by that point

• and once rei notices your banter with eichi turning into FLIRTING? it is joever for you

• half of him is extremely disgusted . he is clinging to his beloved ritsu to console him . the other half is impressed somehow

• “ah, of all people, it had to be him?” “listen i didn’t want this either, rei” - you

• to see your hatred of what eichi did turn into understanding… really even you’re impressed with yourself

• and eichi is Actively trying to be better . he is a little fucked up but it’s okay you can fix him (and also make him worse)

• also i think it’s so funny to imagine eichi’s pale ass figure visit the dark, brooding, gothic sakuma estate. Family dinner visit !

• rei does not give his approval. he almost throws a plate at eichi

• ritsu just gives you two a thumbs up

• a happy family for sure ❤️

yuzuru fushimi

• as the best friend of tori, you have personal beef with his butler

• WHY is he always with tori. how are you two meant to get up to mischief with him constantly Watching. Always Watching.

• and yuzuru thinks you are a horrible influence on his young master

• an OUTRAGEOUS CLAIM which you are ready to fistfight him for . you exude nothing but purity, innocence and charm

• tori is somewhere between amused by your hatred for yuzuru and tired of hearing you talk about him ALL THE TIME

• “and why does he have to constantly be watching you? seriously, he should get a hobby. he’s an idol, too, right? actually i can kind of see why, he definitely has the looks to make it in the industry. anyway—” “OH MY GOD SHUT UP (Y/N)”

• tori doesn’t understand why you’re so Oblivious and so Dumb . he cries to eichi-sama about it who is too busy . idk watching wataru turn into a bird

• yuzuru just watches you with that type of . Evil and Scary closed eye smile that he is a pro at

• honestly? you’re quivering in your boots. but also admiring his smile. his smile is really pretty. Wait a minute.

• the complaining turns into swooning ! who would have guessed (tori) (he guessed) (he knew) (and now he has to listen to you talk about yuzuru 25/7)

• you clean up your act in order to impress him. No More late night snack runs with tori. you are a SAINT

• yuzuru finds it endearing and honestly quite entertaining

• soon enough, he finds himself completely charmed by your. erm. really strange(?) behaviour

• he, himself, is also a strange individual so there’s no surprise there

• tori sets up tea dates for the both of you as well awwww. What a good friend (he invites you over for tea with him then runs away when yuzuru comes to serve you tea. it is a Kind Of tea date)

• honestly you scored a 10/10 baddie GOOD FOR YOU

tori himemiya

• ok i know i have done the sibling ones So often already but. tsukasa’s sibling. YOU being tsukasa’s sibling that is.

• you and tsukasa are constantly discussing how tori has Wronged you everyday

• tori just looks at you both and calls you a fugly pair of siblings

• “listen i’m not saying we bring a lighter to the next fine concert But”

• “that is not appropriate at all… that being said i am not discarding the idea”

• dw about tori he has his own personal bodyguard (yuzuru) to ward off predators (you and tsukasa)

• how is he so much cuter, more successful, prettier, funnier, cuter—

• you know that type of jealousy and hatred that you realise is actually. Much deeper feelings. Yeah. it’s that

• tori gets a lot busier with idol work and that’s when you realise you miss going to the student council office just to banter with him.

• it is so so lonely and so so cold… (2 hours no tori)

• head on the desk. you feel yourself drifting further and further away…

• “hey, what’s up loser”

• RAGE. tori himemiya.

• half play fighting half unbridled rage . its like a pair of kittens toppling over and hissing

• tori also (maybe) (kind of) missed you too. he complained. Loudly. to yuzuru who was like Alright we are going to see them then!

• eventually the teasing insults and fighting turns into the type of fighting that you do as a couple. idk it just KIND OF HAPPENS?

• tsukasa is like. Well i do not approve but at least it’ll be good for our family business

• a good end. a happy end. eichi and wataru have adopted the two of you as their own

• “AMAZING! when is the wedding” “NEVER SHUT UP”

• you buy matching, cutesey couple items and then fight over them

• really what’s a good relationship without a few death threats here and there

wataru hibiki

• i really cannot imagine wataru having an enemy. SURE he has a lot of haters (tomoya) (hokuto) but even then it is done so in an affectionate manner. There is simply No hatred in his heart. only silliness

• so unfortunately your hatred of him is one-sided ! enemy to lovers part 2

• being a rival actor to THE wataru hibiki is certainly a predicament. i mean he has sentient hair is there anything he can’t do

• and it pisses you off. Majorly. who does this absolute clown think he is

• you try your hardest at Every show, you sing your heart out, put the most effort in

• and then there’s wataru. who is Equally as hardworking but somehow 10x more charismatic

• even eichi tenshouin is his biggest fan . he has capitalism on his side

• so you have a burning jealousy and hatred for this man . Well until he offers to do a show WITH you

• you just give him the blankest stare . What are you on about

• while he’s laughing to himself and monologuing on how you two would make the perfect lead roles

• ????? SERIOUSLY

• that’s how you get roped into performing with him and a bunch of idols in dramatica . And well they are certainly an interesting bunch

• as you prepare for the (romantic btw) musical you convince yourself the warmth you feel in your cheeks at his love proclamations is just Method Acting

• IT IS NOT!!!! no one can resist his charm

• you also see how well respected he is as an actor and his true talent on stage

• like . He was one of the eccentrics for a reason. he is stupidly good at acting

• jealousy turns to admiration and well. yeah you guessed it ! admiration turns into an intolerable crush

• wataru, similarly, is impressed at your prowess for acting and shows no signs of being quiet about it. he is yelling how talented you are every 5 seconds and joking how he may Really fall for you

• spoiler warning: he does

• flash forward 6 months . Time for the play

• at the kiss scene it all really comes together . it is a sincerely romantic and genuine kiss

• the crowd is going WILD (except eichi) (he’s jealous) (“i wish that was me fr”)

• backstage, you may just pass out

• but of course wataru is there to lift you up and be a shoulder you can lean on

• And that’s how you scored a date with THE wataru hibiki . he is everyone’s wataru but especially yours

• absolute 10/10 power couple watch out hollywood (and eichi)

• tomoya is just hoping you can tame him or something

natsume sakasaki

• i am so normal over him guys trust (lie) (such a lie)

• he is the perfect candidate for enemies to lovers . something about him just screams ‘i love you in a way that is so painful and so mean’

• anyways . being the apprentice of wataru after natsume stops being his apprentice

• I AM SO SANE OVER THIS CONCEPT

• obviously you were Not Really involved in the war so you’re pretty clueless as to natsume’s former relationship with wataru

• which makes you question why he is such an asshole to you. LIKE he does not take your magic seriously at all

• he thinks that you are not qualified which is . so stupid like you cannot gatekeep being an evil wizard okay that title is for anyone

• in reality… he is a tiny bit insecure that you’re good enough at magic to be wataru’s apprentice

• magic and alchemy has always been something that his character is largely based on and for someone to take over that role so quickly ?!?&:!

• so he Pretends that whenever wataru is telling him about your latest experiments and tricks that he is Not impressed .

• he's basically the yawns . sloppy. boring. lazy .

• he actually really wants to discuss magic with you but every time you meet he just scowls and acts like a bitch. in usual natsume ‘i hate being vulnerable or showing any feelings’ agenda

• so that means you’re going to have to make the first move. otherwise the enemies to lovers slowburn 100k words pining fic ends HERE

• if you ask him for help with magic he is going to be so smug

• like “hM, i figured the likes of you would need help from me afterALL”

• just try not to punch him in the face it will be WORTH IT OKAY!!!

• his hands are actually really shaky the whole time and he is trying his hardest not to mess up it’s actually So so cute

• and natsume gets to assess your magic prowess too (he’s impressed btw. he wouldn’t tell you that so i’m passing on the message. he's falling in love so quick but don’t tell him i told you ok)

• and so you meet up at his secret room regularly ! and with sora too who you become apprentice buddies with ^_^ so joyous

• listen i wasn’t going to include the love potion natsume trope in this but these headcanons are tropey enough let me have this

• you confess by making a love potion together with him PLEASE HEAR ME OUT

• anyways you are the best most magical couple in all of ensemble stars . you create tricky little spells to foil your enemies (eichi tenshouin) and then kiss wearing witch’s hats . the end

tsumugi aoba

• another good enemies to lovers candidate but in a More pathetic way i think

• you’re the producer for past fine. please hear me out on this concept

• i think your beef would be similar to eichi and hiyori . like divorced couple type romance

• you are regretful of the war and find the memories to be bittersweet. then you talk to tsumugi and he’s like Yeah haha i would probably do it again

• HE HAS ISSUES

• and yet he’s still one of the only people who truly understands and unconditionally supports you… this is a sick and twisted world

• i think tsumugi is too moe kyaah anime girl to have any hatred towards you so the enemies to lovers will (once again) be one sided

• he brings up your time as second years and you feel the need to throttle him

• yet you know him so well too, especially how he overworks himself

• and as an ensemble square producer you have to take care of his soggy pathetic self. Sorry

• that one romance trope of the person bandaging the wounds of the love interest . that’s you two except it’s you dragging his ass to bed at 3am

• he will complain . so you have to compromise on letting him cuddle you

• everyone notices how close you two are btw . sora is that one image that’s like ‘hey why does senpai call you babygirl’ ‘how about we stop talking for a little while’

• you Deny all the outrageous claims that you CARE??? for him and say it is rather your past together that makes you feel obligated but it was like two? three? years ago mostly everyone has moved on. stop lying to yourself

• you two have healed Together… and that is what makes your love so raw and vulnerable and eughhsjk this is so sappy and cute. Throws up

• hiyori and nagisa are both so happy that you two are together and finally found peace (sort of)

• eichi is like Hm. interesting . this is awkward

• but it’s okay . because everything is fine (haha get it) now and you and tsumugi are (past) war criminals together ^_^

sora harukawa

• sora is too full of JOY and HAPPINESS to be enemies with anyone . So we are going a bit off script you are rivals in this scenario

• video game rivals to be precise ! i feel like the 🤓 typing this but it’s CUTESEY I PROMISE

• mostly you two play multiplayer games together and get a teensy bit competitive . in the video game club of Course which means we get natsume to be the (totally unbiased) judge

• sora is realllyyy good at video games which means you frequently lose . this is why you have waged war on him

• you will not STOP until the ultimate gamer title becomes yours

• sora is just ヽ(*⌒∇⌒*)ﾉ he’s happy to indulge and play games with you because your colour is always so bright and vibrant when you do !

• little does he know you are plotting his Demise. his demise on little big planet or something

• days, nights, weeks, months you train to beat him. and you never do

• he keeps winning everytime and always acts so modest about it which is even WORSE!!! you can't even get mad when he’s so polite about beating you

• once sora notices your colour becoming more dull because of how demotivated you are he gets really worried (◞‸◟���) he loves playing games but loves spending time with you more…

• once you admit that you’re upset about being worse at games he thinks of a quick solution ! play games together instead of against each other and he can teach you all his tricks

• (natsume offers to help too but he's Not important and he is an asshole . Do not trust)

• so your weekly gaming tournaments basically turn into gaming dates ft thirdwheel natsume and sometimes tsumugi

• cutest CUTEST couple 10/10 i love

• natsume approves too btw . 10/10

• tsumugi is a Little confused but he has the spirit (he also rates 10/10)

• (rinne will not be Making an appearance in fear of shu finding out but he also rates 10/10. Save him from shu)

OKAY KIND OF IMPORTANT MESSAGE SO PLEASE READ!!!

i would have made a separate post for this but i feel like no one would read it so. i’m finally back after um. 10 months. i was super busy and kind of lost interest in enstars and other things so i pretty much abandoned this blog… BUT I HAVE RETURNED! i’m going to try posting every so often and interacting more with you guys on here ^_^ i cleared out my inbox (sorry to anyone who sent things in, it was cluttered and stressing me out haha) so feel free to send me any asks! i will NOT be opening specific requests, but you can feel free to send suggestions for prompts, scenarios or characters you want me to make headcanons for and i’ll try my best!! i also want to try out writing proper fics alongside the silly hc posts, but i might mostly post those on ao3, though i would like a nice balance between silly and serious(ish). i will also try writing for other fandoms like mhyk, twst and pjsekai since i am heavily in those as well but yeah!! my official comeback methinks. hope to chat more with everyone! ♡

[frudoo]

Mister Asylum — Simon “Ghost” Riley

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, hospitilization.

Patient!Simon Riley x Fem!Nurse!Reader

1 | 2

Simon always knew that his life would end this way—head pressed against the barrel of a waiting gun, emotionless eyes staring straight ahead, preparing. He never expected it to be by his own hand, though he couldn’t let himself be surprised, could he? Years of abuse, trauma, bloodshed, scorn. He’s hardly a saint. This ending is better than the one he expected, for himself, for the rest of the world. Maybe even more merciful than the death he truly deserves.

He sits with his legs criss-crossed in the middle of his living room that remains decorated with nothing more than a simple glass top coffee table and a sofa opposite of him. No rug or carpet that blood could soak into, no stains that the next homeowners would be plagued by having to deal with. Easy cleanup for the crime scene crew once the authorities would inevitably be called. It would be as if he never even lived there—a ghost resident whose demise would never be revealed even to those riddled with the most morbid curiosity.

Simon is so lost in his own calculations, that he doesn’t process the turn of a spare key in the lock of his front door as he digs the pistol further into his temple, jaw clenched so tightly that the tendon is sore. He didn’t anticipate that Johnny had decided to visit, and he surely didn’t expect the gun to be knocked out of his hand and his large body to be tackled to the floor by his sergeant. The weapon goes off but the bullet doesn’t blast through his skull like he’d planned—instead, it fires at the couch cushion and settles in the fuzzy depths, right where he would usually sit on a lazy afternoon.

He almost doesn’t process the way Johnny’s tears spill onto his pale, maskless face, the way the Scotsman holds his wrists down above his head and against the wooden tile with one hand as he calls Captain Price with the other. Not that Simon needed to be held down. He was far too weary and defeated to fight. His voice was stuck in his raw, aching throat until the sergeant cupped his face in his hands, desperation and anger written on his features.

“Shoulda let m’go, Johnny,” Simon rasps, blank brown eyes staring at the ceiling, unwilling to look his best mate in the eye.

“Ne’er, LT,” Johnny lightly smacks the lieutenant’s cheeks affectionately, once-bright blue eyes now tinged with worry as they dart between his friend and the door.

The captain eventually arrives and helps Johnny escort Simon outside, into his truck. The three men sit in silence in the driveway for a while until John speaks up.

“You understand we can’t let you be alone anymore,” his usual gruff voice softened with something akin to sadness—sympathy, maybe.

“Yes, sir,” Simon nods, hands clasped together, resting in his lap.

“Nor can we let you go on any missions. Protocol won’t allow it, and quite frankly, I’m worried you’d put yourself in harm’s way purposefully. I can’t have you or my other men getting hurt,” Price sighs, running a large hand down his face and covering his mouth, lost in thought.

“Understood, sir,” The lieutenant grunts, trying to ignore the sound of Johnny’s sniffles beside him.

“I’ve spoken with Laswell as well as my own superiors, and we’ve come to the conclusion that… institutionalization would be the best course of action.”

Simon falls silent. Take him out of the field, fine. Keep him company to make sure he’s alright, great. But being thrown into the looney bin feels more like retribution than treatment. His fists clench and he can feel the captain’s watchful eyes on him in the rearview mirror.

“Simon, this- I hope you know this wasn’t an easy decision for anyone to make. I’d much sooner call a missile strike than put you somewhere other than under my protection. But unfortunately my hands are tied.”

“Simon, ye ‘ave tae listen. Please,” Johnny rests his hand on top of one of Simon’s, trying not to let out a sob at the trembling he feels in his superior. “We need ye ‘ere.”

This isn’t right. None of this shit would have happened if he had just pulled the trigger sooner. Simon’s mind is nothing short of a maelstrom wreaking its havoc, screaming at him to jump out of this truck and book it to the nearest bridge to jump off of. He might have done just that if his body wasn’t vibrating with frustration and helplessness and blinding regret—or maybe it’s just the hot tears that blur his vision and render him unable to move or even breathe properly.

“You’re as good as a son to me, Simon. Let us do this for you. For us,” John sniffs, and if he didn’t know any better, Simon might have thought his captain was crying. “You don’t have another choice.”

Simon doesn’t speak again, rather gives a single nod to signal his compliance. An order is an order no matter how badly he wants to ignore it. All he wants to do is melt and allow the backseat of Price’s truck to absorb him. It all seems like far too much fuss just for him, an assassin, scum of the earth, a waste of precious space. He settles for blinking the tears out of his eyes and looking out the window, even allowing Johnny to keep a calloused hand on top of his own. John calls the hospital and lets them know they’ll be getting an intake.

The drive to Shadywood Hospital is a silent one save for the occasional sniffle or sigh, or the rattle of the truck’s tailgate on a particularly bumpy road. Nobody dares say anything out of fear that they’ll offend one of the other men. The last thing Price and Johnny want to do is make the situation worse, and Simon isn’t the kind to open up about his troubles, even more so now that his plan has been obliterated. He’s supposed to be a strong, unyielding leader—fearless, not this shell of a soldier who let his pain and misery take over. He used to be precisely that: an unstoppable, unbreakable force. He’s not sure when exactly that changed.

The exterior of the hospital is about as dull and lifeless as Simon expected, mossy overgrowth clinging to the weathered brick structure. It looks like something straight out of an old horror film, he thinks. All it needs is some thunderstorm sound effects and perhaps a murder of crows to warn of his impending doom. No such luck. Maybe even the darkest of forces don’t deem him worthy of such caution. Maybe even the most heinous of monsters would ridicule and cast out the enigma that he is.

“Out ye get, LT,” Johnny pats him on one broad shoulder, trained eyes scanning the lieutenant’s face for any hint of emotion be it sadness or fury.

Simon remains stoic as he steps out of the truck, batting away Price and Johnny’s hands that try to usher him inside. Not a bloody child, he thinks, though the petulance with which he crosses his arms would suggest otherwise. When the rush of cold air hits his face, he’s suddenly aware of just how naked he is without his mask and he turns around with a shake of his head.

“Not goin’ in,” he mutters, scratching at the tattoos on his left forearm so hard that he peels the skin.

Johnny grabs Simon’s wrist to get him to stop, frowning at the sight of his nails, sharp and much longer than he usually keeps them. He’s unsure of how nobody noticed that their beloved Ghost had stopped taking care of himself. John sighs and runs a hand through his hair, contemplating before nodding firmly.

“I’m sure they have a mask in there. I’ll go grab one for you, yeah?” He grins softly, patting Simon’s back fondly before stepping inside.

“Ye’ll be alreit, ye ken,” Johnny steps in front of Simon, hands resting firmly on his biceps to get him to meet his eyes. “Ye ‘ave tae be. Ye’re Ghost. Ye’re me brother.”

Simon chokes back a sob, teary eyes fixed on the darkening clouds in the dreary sky to avoid showing his weakness. It breaks him to see his sergeant so worried about him. He doesn’t deserve his pity, his fear. Price comes back before Johnny can force Simon to say anything in response.

“Here you are,” John hums, handing Simon the flimsy mask and offering him a gentle chuckle. “Black, just for you.”

Simon nods again, adjusting the flexible metal in the surgical material to fit the crooked bridge of his nose. Feeling a little less exposed, he sucks in a deep breath and turns on his heel to trudge into the hospital. The fluorescent lights nearly blind him and he furrows his eyebrows, blinking through the pain before focusing his eyes on the receptionist.

“Simon Riley,” he breathes, and the lady nods with a soft smile.

“Yes, sir. If you’ll have a seat over there, the intake nurse will be right out. Would you like your mates to-”

“Yes,” he cuts her off, nodding towards Price and Johnny who stand beside him like bodyguards. “Sorry. Yes. I’d like them to be in there with me. Please.”

“Of course,” she nods once more, offering the three men another small grin.

Simon, Price, and Johnny all sit in the waiting area impatiently. The sergeant looks around nervously while the lieutenant stays still as a statue, eyes focused on the floor. John sniffs and rubs his clammy palms on his jeans. Simon can’t remember the last time he’s seen the captain this anxious, and knowing he caused it makes him feel even worse. He shouldn’t have hesitated; he should have just pulled the trigger immediately upon holding the gun to his head. There wouldn’t have been this much trouble for the team.

The sliding doors part with a mechanical whir and heavy footsteps rush in, boots squeaking against the linoleum floor. Simon wasn’t going to pay it any mind, but Johnny stands up and goes to greet the person with a hug. He only looks up when he feels a hand on his shoulder, eyes meeting deep brown ones much like his own. Kyle.

“Simon,” Kyle whispers, placing his other hand on the lieutenant’s opposite shoulder. “Price called.”

Another wave of shame washes over Simon and he suddenly can’t bring himself to maintain eye contact with his other sergeant. He doesn’t deserve this kind of support, especially not from the entire task force. His throat closes up and it gets hard to breathe. He’s trapped in his head, locked in place, and the walls are closing in. The tears threaten to spill despite his struggle to hold them back, burning at the brink of his waterline. It’s too much, he’s suffocating, he’s about to snap-

As if right on cue, the nurse comes in and calls his name. He jumps up, shoving past Kyle to follow the woman behind the protected doors without looking back. The other three follow close after and stand with their backs to the wall, intently listening to the questions Simon is asked. The lieutenant almost laughs—he’s usually on the other side of the interrogation table.

Simon fills out the countless pages of paperwork with a shaking hand, carefully sliding the clipboard back to the nurse. He feels so small, so pathetic, having this many people watch over him like he’s a sickly babe. In a way, he supposes he is—the only difference is that an infant is worth saving.

“With the information you’ve given me, Mr. Riley, we will be admitting you effective immediately. Your progress will determine the length of your stay. We’ll be monitoring you closely each day to see how you’re doing, alright?” The nurse tilts her head sympathetically, cusping her hand over one of Simon’s. “We’re gonna get you feeling better, sir.”

Simon nods slowly, nervous eyes flickering past the woman to look between his three mates. They all have the same solemn expression on their face, each fidgeting with a different finger or article of clothing. He thinks they’d rather be getting shot at in a foreign country than here, coddling this grown man who doesn’t know how to handle his emotions. He would, too.

“I’ll give the four of you a couple of minutes to chat while I go get your bracelet ready, yeah?” The nurse excuses herself, slipping past the two sergeants that stand on either side of the door.

The men are silent, none of them exactly sure of what to say or do until Simon finally breaks down, his head falling into his hands. Pesky tears he’d been trying so hard to fight off stream down his face and soak into his mask, his broad shoulders shaking with every raspy sob that dares rip from his throat. John immediately pushes himself off the wall and embraces his lieutenant who, for the first time this evening, doesn’t bother fighting him off. Price’s large hand cradles Simon’s head to his clothed midriff, the other patting his back like a father would calm a colicky baby.

“I’ve got you, Simon. You’re gonna be alright,” John whispers, fighting back tears of his own.

The captain hasn’t seen Simon cry like this for what seems like centuries. He never wanted to witness it again, but the hidden memories come flooding back in as he presses his cheek to the top of the blond man’s head. He had sworn from the moment he met Simon that he’d never allow any harm to come to him. He’d keep every enemy away, train him perfectly so that he could protect himself. He never considered that his lieutenant’s own mind could be deemed an enemy.

Johnny can’t stand the sight any longer—he shoves the door open and books it out of the hospital, back sliding down against the cracked brick as he brings his knees to his chest. Kyle follows quickly after, sitting beside his fellow sergeant, silent and seething, angry at himself for being so clueless. How could none of them, not one, see that Simon was doing so poorly?

Simon notes their absence even in the comforting arms of the only father figure he’s ever known.

[happyhauntt]

everything i touch turns sick with sadness — nikolai lantsov

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: anya still believes, sometimes, that nikolai made a mistake in marrying her. he’ll spend every day for the rest of their lives proving her wrong.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: serious angst, miscarriage, pre-established relationship, hurt/comfort. this one is fucking painful. thank you for voting on it i may never recover from writing it! title is from bigger than the whole sky by taylor swift. this is a little au where nikolai is still king post ROW and there's no demon bc i haven't read ROW in a minute and i didn't want to fuck up any details. also i take prompts pls send some i love them

─── word count: 3k.

     The Grand Palace is always too cold. It’s all cavernous rooms and long, draughty hallways like a rabbit warren leading to nowhere. Exploring these hallowed halls had been fun when she was small, and there were surprises lurking just out of sight. Now Anya shivers as she turns a corner, a chilly gust of wind streaking down the corridor past her.

     For somewhere so opulent, with its vaulted ceilings and gold-gilt wallpaper, one would be forgiven for assuming the insulation would be better, but even now, as the depths of winter give way to a pleasant spring, even with a fire burning in every hearth, the Grand Palace is far too cold.

     Genya rests a hand on Anya's elbow as they walk. They are heading into the last meeting in a long day, and Anya is certain she's not the only one who feels exhausted. Genya has her own things to worry about, her own duties to fulfil, but she’d taken one look at Anya’s expression, at the telltale tug of her lips, as they passed one another in the corridor and declared that accompanying her queen to this meeting was of the utmost importance. Everything else could wait.

     (It can’t, really, and Zoya will likely be very cross, but Anya cannot deny that she appreciates the company. Tolya is a darling, and follows her like a second shadow, but Genya understands the tiredness that takes root in your bones and refuses to leave. Ruling Ravka comes at a cost, Anya knew that when she agreed to marry Nikolai, but Saints, what she wouldn't give for a nap right now.)

     She meets Genya's concerned glance, and offers a weary smile. "You could set this place on fire and I imagine it would still be freezing."

     Genya chuckles. "Don't tempt me." Her kefta is buttoned all the way to her throat, and Anya briefly wishes she could wear her own.

     She does have one, embroidered in the palest blue of the Tidemakers and tucked at the very back of her wardrobe, though she very rarely has cause to bring it out. She was always going to be a hard sell as queen. So many nobles had made their prejudice known regarding her disability, while her distaste for Ravka is well-documented. She never could have imagined becoming its queen. She’d never wanted to.

     But she is, and Nikolai fought for that, so being Grisha remains a secret shared between only her closest friends. The nobles don’t need another reason to dislike her.

     Though she suspects Genya is rather warmer than she is right now.

     The War Room is already occupied when they reach it. An assortment of a few military personnel, seated around the table. This meeting isn't terribly important — if it were, Nikolai would be here — but Anya had received intelligence from one of the reconnaissance scouts at the Fjerdan border, and a discussion with the relevant officials felt prudent before any further escalation.

     She murmurs a greeting as she takes her seat at the head of the table. Her commanders stumble to their feet, "Moya tsaritsa" echoing from their mouths. A chill runs down Anya's spine. No matter how many years pass, she suspects she will never get used to the title.

     Maps of Ravka sprawl across the surface of the table, creased and yellowing at the edges. Small figurines depicting their troops are dotted about the place, though the majority are clustered near the border with Fjera now that the Fold is gone. Tolya posts himself at her back, just behind her chair, while Genya sits beside her, shoulders tight as soldiers begin to whisper.

     It has been years since Genya was scarred by the Darkling, but she is still a source of malicious gossip in the Grand Palace.

     A sharp glare from Anya silences them, and the meeting gets underway. As one of the commanders begins recounting a report from the Fjerdan scouts, Anya does her best to pay attention. His voice is dull and droning, like a drill boring holes into the back of her skull, but she nods at the right times. She knows that report from memory. She takes her role very seriously.

     When Nikolai made her General of the First Army, not long before they were married, few had found cause to argue. There'd been dissent about their marriage, concerns about her becoming queen, but not many could deny that she was an excellent choice to lead the First Army. Anya had been one of them, after all; discharged with honours after her injury, she'd ranked highly, served on the frontlines with them all, and she'd been a key figure in the Darkling's defeat.

     (Well, she’d really debate how essential she’d been in that scenario, because she’d felt particularly useless at the time, but regardless, she’d been honoured for it.)

     It doesn’t matter what she did, or who she saved. She will always have something to prove. Her stomach tightens a little as the memories come to her, unbidden, like moths to lantern light.

     Anya’s finger trails absent lines along the edge of the table. It is startling, really, how easy it is to forget sometimes.

     The civil war. The people she loved, and the people she lost. Blood in the sand. Days spent tortured in a Shu laboratory. Blood in her mouth. There are mornings when she wakes on a choked sob, red-rimmed eyes already watery with unshed tears. She can still feel the ash from the Darkling’s funeral pyre on her tongue. Her nightmares root through her and leave her half-ragged. Still fresh as the day they happened, no matter how many years sit between those days and these.

     Her husband wakes when she does, like two ends of a leather cord. If she tugs, he feels it, so attuned to her pitch-dark soul. Black-tipped fingers curl into her hair as he holds her close. He has nightmares, too. Some scars never heal. Anya knows this too well.

     Other days are different. Most days, now that the years have passed. Life demands her attention, won’t allow her to dwell on the dead for too long anymore. The world around her rushes by, and Ravka will not sit and wait for its rulers to be ready. The Grand Palace is a constant flurry of activity. 

     Her stomach is a raw nerve, a jagged edge pulling inside of her. She tries not to wince at it. The memories are painful still, yes, but she is used to breathing through them. Grief will always sit in the shadows, waiting for its moment to pounce — but there is light, too. There is love. A warm hand to hold, friends to weather the storm with. Memories, good and bad, line the halls of their home like patchwork tapestries. Every room has a ghost.

     The commander to her left says her name as he outlines his proposal going forward. Genya shoots her a concerned look, but Anya merely nods as he speaks, her lips pressed together in a thin line. In, out. Her lungs flood with air as she breathes deeply, trying to dispel the knot in her stomach, but the thread of pain only pulls tighter and tighter with every inhale.

     She touches her palm gently to her abdomen, the action concealed by the table. Another sensation strikes her, this one sharper than the others, and she fights to hold her breath as it passes.

     This is familiar. This carries with it a different grief, hollow and hopeless. Her fingers curl into the fabric of her dress. This she knows, intimately. Her heart sinks.

     The meeting can’t have lasted more than an hour by the time it is over, but each moment felt like a lifetime. With a plan of action decided between them, her commanders bid her goodbye. Anya remains seated as they file out of the room. From the corner of her eye, she watches Tolya close the door behind them.

     Genya leans in, latching a hand onto Anya’s forearm. Her eyes are bright with concern. “Anya, are you alright? You hardly said a word near the end. That’s not like you.”

     Anya allows her eyes to fall closed as her friend reaches out. The palm Genya presses against her forehead is soft and cool, and Anya fights the urge to lean into the Tailor’s comforting touch.

     “I’m fine, Genya.” It is easy to brush off her own discomfort. Anya knows what is happening, she’s sure of it, and she will deal with it in time.

     It has happened before, after all. The sensation is as familiar as the sharp ache in her knee, the scars on her flesh, the blackened tips of Nikolai’s fingers.

     Tolya kneels beside her chair. His frown is so loud that she can hear it without needing to look at him. “I can hear your heart racing, and you’ve been wincing every so often. Is your knee troubling you?”

     Another pain spikes through her like a lightning strike. Anya releases a slow breath and shakes her head. “No, it’s not my knee. I believe that was the last of my meetings, so I’ll retire to my chambers for the rest of the day.” She pushes herself up from the chair, faltering only slightly. Tolya’s hand on her waist is steady and sure. “Send a healer, but please be discreet. It’s nothing serious, I assure you. And please… no one should bother Nikolai.”

     “Anya, if you’re unwell, he’ll want to know.” Genya watches her as a mourner watches the grave.

     “I’m not unwell.” Despite her words, Anya’s voice still trembles. “I will be fine. I promise.”

     She’s just about to get out of the bath when she hears the door to their bedchamber clatter open and crash into the wall. Her heart gives a dull, heavy thud as she hears her husband’s panicked voice. She has no energy left to summon any frustration at Genya for giving her away.

     When Anya emerges from the bathroom, a silk robe tied loosely on her slight frame, Nikolai is still standing in the middle of their bedchamber. His chest is heaving as if he ran all the way to her, golden cheeks aflush. His eyes are soft and worried as he watches her fiddle with the ties of her robe. Saints, when is the last time she looked like this? Her cheeks seem hollow, purple bruises like pressed violets beneath her eyes. The weariness in her reminds him of long nights during the war, when he’d grip her tightly enough to leave his fingerprints on her skin and it seemed the sun would never rise again.

     She’s drained. As if that spark of Anya, that light he’d fallen in love with so long ago, has been snuffed out entirely. The woman before him is a hollow shell. Had it been only a few hours since he saw her last? This morning he’d chased her laughing through the sitting room and kissed her against the wall until Zoya dragged him away to attend to his duties. He can still hear her giggling, a sweet phantom sound.

     A servant emerges from the bathroom behind Anya looking upset, carrying a wicker basket overflowing with damp towels. She keeps her eyes fixed on the rug. Anya dismisses her with a small smile and the servant scurries out of their bedchamber, dropping into a rushed curtsey as she passes Nikolai.

     Anya doesn’t look at him until the door clicks shut.

     The look she sends him is enough to shatter his heart completely. Her mouth quivers perilously at the edges, but she’s smiling at him, damn it, as if soothing his frayed nerves is of the utmost importance.

     He doesn’t breathe as she crosses the room to settle gingerly on the chaise, fearful that any sudden movements might spook her. Her honey-coloured hair is swept back, a few tendrils hanging limply around her gaunt face, accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones.

     “What happened?” His voice is little more than a gravelly whisper. The room feels impossibly heavy. “Genya mentioned you were unwell. Why didn’t you tell me?”

     Anya hugs herself tightly. The sight makes his heart ache. “I wanted to be sure, first. And I am.” The words are quiet. Nikolai doesn’t think he’s ever heard her sound so small.

     He drops to his knees in front of her. Reaching out, he clasps her freezing hands between his own. “Sure about what?”

     She looks up at him through damp eyelashes. Her eyes are bloodshot, her hands are limp in his grip, lips cracked and bitten, and yet he wonders how there was ever a day he didn’t love her. How foolish he’d been as a child, to look at her and not immediately surrender his heart.

     When Anya speaks again, it is little more than a ragged whisper. “I lost the baby.”

     Nikolai blinks at her. His lips have turned numb. “I didn’t know you were pregnant.”

     Anya shakes her head roughly. “I didn’t want to tell you yet. I didn’t want to get your hopes up again.”

     Grief sits between them like a depthless chasm, and suddenly he understands. Nikolai reaches up to cup her face with one hand, sweeping his thumb over the tear-stained skin of her cheek. She sinks into his touch, and it takes everything he has not to splinter into a thousand mournful pieces.

     They both know what happened before. There have been three pregnancies since they started trying two years, and each has left them stained with heartache. After the second, the healers informed them of the harrowing reality; that Anya may well not be able to have children. Not after the beatings she took in captivity.

     Some scars never heal. This, they both know too well.

     “You should have told me.” He wants to scream, to rage, to weep for her. He wants to scrape away all of her pain and take it for himself, to ensure she never hurts again.

     “I didn’t want to. When you didn’t know… When I kept it to myself, I was the only one who could hope and dream and pray about it,” she tells him. She won’t burden him with her dreams, of the golden-haired girl she sees when she closes her eyes or the little boy whose laugh sounds exactly like Nikolai’s.

     A desperate whimper slips out and suddenly he’s on the chaise beside her, sweeping her into a tight embrace. He rubs her back in gentle circles as she buries her sobs in his chest, and drops his lips to her hair as if that will stifle his own tears.

     “Nik, what if I can’t have children?” Her voice is muffled by his shirt, but no amount of fabric could ever disguise the pain of it. “Ravka… Ravka depends on it.” Once upon a time, it would have amused him to hear her care about what Ravka wants. Once upon a time, not that long ago, she didn’t care if this Saints-forsaken country fell into the sea. Now his heart stutters painfully. “You’re going to need heirs, and what if I can’t do it?”

     He wonders how long she has harboured these quiet doubts. How long she has let them fester silently inside her chest. It is so rare for Anya to voice her insecurities. She is a soldier, through and through; stoic and stern, facing the storm with unflinching resolve. When he’d rescued her from captivity and she found her future altered beyond recognition, she hadn’t faltered.

     She is not invincible. He knows the softness of her heart beneath all that armour.

     “Anya…” he murmurs.

     “I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret ever choosing me.” The confession spills out of her quickly, like she’s afraid she won’t say it if she hesitates. When she pulls back, skin blotchy and eyes shining, her expression is almost surprised. “I don’t think I’d survive that.”

     A fierce anger rises in Nikolai’s chest, but not at her. Never at her. His eyes burn with ferocity as he kisses her, harder than he means to, hard enough to bruise. He kisses her as if his lips against hers will make her believe it, as if she can feel the love overflowing from his heart. A heart not big enough to hold it all in without bursting.

     He pulls away, breathing heavily, and presses his forehead against hers. His hand curls around the back of her neck, fingers tangled in loose strands of her hair.

     “Loving you will never be a mistake,” he rasps. “Not to me. Do you understand? I will spend the rest of our lives proving that to you.”

     She shudders against him, half a sob building in her chest. “Nik.”

     He can feel his heartbeat in his throat. There aren’t enough words in any language to convey what she means to him, but he has to try. “And children, children with you, would be lovely. I’d cherish them with all my heart. But only if you want them. Not because you feel it’s your duty, but because you want them. It’s your choice, milaya. And if you do, and we cannot have them, well—” He shrugs, a fleeting smirk passing over his face. “I’m the King. We will figure it out. ”

     Her laugh is small, quiet, but it is there. He wants to bottle the sound and keep it forever.

     “The important thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “is that you are safe, and healthy, and I love you. I love you so much, Anya. Never doubt that for a moment.”

     She crumbles then, collapsing into him as the last of her strength dissolves. He knows she is in pain, and her heart is breaking, and so is his. She weeps quietly as she curls up in his lap and he holds her as tightly as he can, stroking gently through her hair.

     Some scars never heal, no matter the time that passes. But these are wounds they will bear together, and if ever Nikolai is able to ease Anya’s heartache, then by the Saints, there is no force in the world that could stop him.

[rubysunnday]

can we always be this close

requested by anon: Congrats for reaching 6k!! I feel like such a proud mom, i've been following you since you had around 2k and you deserve this so much!! Could i please request a jesper x reader fic with the fake dating trope?

summary: from strangers to friends, friends into fake lovers, fake lovers into lovers

Kaz held a piece of paper out to Jesper. "Here's your invite."

Jesper took it between two fingers and flipped it over, unfolding it to its full size. "Mr and Mrs Leonard," he read, his brow furrowing.

"Oh, why do we have to be married?" Y/N grumbled, snatching the paper from Jesper's hands.

Jesper tutted, trying to snatch it back. Y/N slapped his hand away and, reluctantly, Jesper backed down.

"Because I need both of you for this job and it was easier to have one invitation than two," Kaz replied. "Now, here's the plan."

"Jesper and Y/N, you two are going to pretend to be guests of Van Delnik. Once inside and the party has started, one of you will cause a commotion."

Surrounded by big skirted dresses and expensive champagne, Y/N had never felt so out of place. She gripped Jesper's arm tightly as they walked through the corridor to the giant spherical ballroom.

"Ready?" Jesper asked, lowering his voice enough so that only Y/N could hear.

She nodded. "Yep."

"Inej, you'll be disguised as one of the maids. Once you see the commotion, head to the roof. I'll meet you up there."

"What are we stealing, again?"

"We're not, Jesper. Inej and I are staking out the building - Van Delnik is hiding his treasures somewhere and I for one want my DeKappel back."

"It wasn't yours in the first place, Kaz."

"Semantics, dearest Inej."

Y/N took her arm from Jesper's and took a step to the side, bumping into one of the men nearby. When he grunted and turned to tell her off, Y/N pretended to stumble, knocking the man's champagne glass onto her, and fell into Jesper.

"Sir, watch where you are going!" Jesper exclaimed, standing Y/N up on her feet. He dramatically whipped out a handkerchief and started dabbing at Y/N's chest and the bodice of her dress.

"Your wife bumped into me!"

"Because he tripped me up!" Y/N replied, pointing at a random man nearby.

"Once Inej and I are on the roof, we'll go in through the side window into Van Delnik's office. Jesper and Y/N, you need to give us at least ten minutes."

"I think we can manage that, can't we wife?"

"Oh, I am going to regret being married to you."

Once the commotion of who had tripped and spilt champagne on Y/N had calmed down - she'd managed to convince the men it'd been their fault - Jesper had whisked her away over to the buffet tables, out the way of the crowds.

"Saints, this chicken is to die for," Y/N muttered. She licked her fingers, wiped them on her skirt and picked up another piece. "I need the recipe." Y/N wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Saints my face is a mess."

"I think it looks beautiful," Jesper replied, smiling at her.

Y/N returned his smile.

"How do we know you're done?"

"Trust me, Y/N, you'll know."

The entire ballroom shook as something exploded outside the doors. Glasses wobbled and smashed onto the floor. People screamed. Guards rushed forward from their hiding spots.

"I guess that's the signal," Jesper muttered. "Now to get out of here."

"Where do we meet you?"

"Out the front - you'll be one of the many screaming guests if all goes to plan."

Jesper grabbed Y/N's hand and she clutched on tightly as they joined the throng of people trying to get out through the double doors. They both held on to one another, determined to stay together and not be split up by the crowd.

Once they'd squeezed through the double doors, the crowd spilled out into the street. Some ran away, some stood their, overwhelmed and shocked. To the right, a fire burnt away inside s store room, flames licking the glass of the windows within.

"Found them," Jesper muttered.

He pulled Y/N to him and they moved through the crowds, weaving over to the left and away from the fire. Kaz and Inej had both changed into servant uniforms and were blending in with the shrubbery and shadows.

"We were spotted," Kaz said as they walked up to them. "The bomb wasn't the plan."

"Oh, we thought it was," Y/N said. She absent-mindedly ran her thumb along the back of Jesper's hand. "Do we need to go?"

Kaz shook his head. "No, we'll wait -"

"There they are!"

Four heads shot up and turned sharply to the right. A disheveled looking guard was stood on the steps, pointing directly at them.

"Yes, we need to go," Kaz amended. "Meet at Black Veil."

As the Stadwatch and Van Delnik's personal security began to come at them, the four of them split up. Kaz and Inej going one way, Jesper and Y/N going the other.

Y/N gathered the numerous layers of her dress skirt and ran down the cobbled streets, wind blowing through her hair, tearing it out of its intricate up do.

"Split up," Jesper said, letting go of her hand.

Y/N darted right as Jesper went left. The pursuing guards stumbled to a halt and then quickly spotted them and their plan, splitting up themselves and chasing after them.

The street lamps had been left on in this bit of town - a sign of the rich who lived there. They could afford to burn the oil. Y/N saw an open public garden to her left and quickly pushed open the small iron gate and ran inside, the trees obscuring almost all of the street light. She ran through the bushes and the trees, the heels of her shoes sinking into the damp ground.

Eventually, she emerged out the other side. Y/N glanced behind her as she came out onto the street and ran into someone.

"Oh, saints!" Jesper exclaimed, his hands catching Y/N's waist and pulling her forward and into him.

Y/N put her hands on his chest, stopping her face from smacking into it. "I thought you'd gone the other way!"

"I did, it looped to here!"

"Oh my -"

"There they are, shoot them!"

Jesper grinned at her, taking her hand in his. "And off we go again."

They broke out into a sprint, running down the street once again. Bullets began to ricochet off the floor and the walls around them as the private guard began shooting at them.

Y/N giggled, the adrenaline running through her. Her laughter cut off abruptly as something hit her back and side, a searing pain shooting through her entire being, She stumbled forward, Jesper's going around her waist and holding her up.

"Ok, ok, come on," Jesper said, looping his arm through Y/N. "We need to keep going, Y/N, I'm sorry."

Y/N groaned in pain, pressing the palm of her hand against her side. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other and trying to breathe through the pain.

At some point, they lost the private guard - Y/N wasn't sure when - and entered Black Veil Cemetery. Jesper was on auto-pilot, walking down the headstones until they reached the mausoleum.

Jesper and Y/N all but fell through the doors and down the stairs, startling person who was already inside.

"Saints," Nina swore, her arms reaching forward and catching Y/N as she fell forward, her legs folding beneath her. "What happened?"

"What do you think happened?" Jesper muttered, all but ripping the buttons off his jacket in an attempt to get it off. "Kaz and his ridiculous plans."

"I'm fine -" Y/N cut herself off with a yell of pain as Jesper pressed his jacket against her side.

Nina sighed, tutting to herself. "I'm -"

"Not a healer, we know, Nina," Jesper and Y/N said together.

"Alright, saints," Nina muttered. "Come on, down the stairs."

Somehow, Jesper and Nina managed to get Y/N to her feet and down the stairs. Together they lifted her up and onto the empty tomb that often became a table.

"I'll be back," Nina muttered, guiding Jesper's hands further over Y/N's side. "Try not to die."

With a bustle of skirts, Nina disappeared back up the stairs, leaving Jesper and Y/N alone, in almost complete silence.

"I'm sorry," Jesper whispered.

Y/N looked up at him. "What for?"

"I... I don't know, it just feels like my fault because I came back to you and they followed me and -"

"Jes, breathe," Y/N said softly, placing her left hand on his cheek. Her thumb trailed over his skin gently, catching the few tears that managed to escape his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He dropped his head, breathing in deeply.

"Talk to me, Fahey," Y/N said, putting her hand under his chin and gently lifting it up until he was looking at her. "I'm listening."

It took him a moment to gather himself enough to speak. "When I was young, my mother tried to help this little girl. The girl had been poisoned and my mother, being grisha, went to help. She drew out the poison from this girls body into her own - saving the girl's life but ultimately killing her.

"This... you bleeding out on my, frankly, rather lovely jacket and coming close to dying it's just..." He sighed, shaking his head. "It just brought back those memories."

Y/N nodded. "I get it." She paused. "I'd miss me too."

Jesper laughed. "Nicely done."

The sound of Nina returning gave them both precious seconds to compose themselves - even though the heartrender had probably sensed something was going on.

But Nina didn't say a word. She walked in, moaning about Kaz, and shooed Jesper away, demanding space to work.

Jesper didn't leave. He helped Nina get Y/N out of her corset and held the hem of Y/N 's shirt up. He held her hand as Nina began to heal the wound. It didn't hurt as much as a needle would have done, but it still felt uncomfortable and weird. As soon as Nina was satisfied, she patted Y/N on the shoulder and disappeared back up the stairs, muttering something about Kaz and a knife.

"Do you think -"

"No," Jesper said, "no I don't think she did."

Y/N looked up at him, smiling. "Would you -"

"Of course."

Jesper picked up a roll of bandage. He moved closer to Y/N and she shifted, letting him standing in between her legs. They'd been in this position numerous times before - but it was only ever flirting and only ever for a job.

But now, something had shifted between them. A new understanding had emerged - one that could only have happened when someone came close to losing the other.

"My hands are cold," Jesper warned.

Y/N nodded, smiling. "It's fine."

Jesper's fingers brushed against her side and he held the bandage firmly against the wound. He then unrolled the bandage and wrapped it around Y/N's middle, keeping it tight. Y/N leant against Jesper's shoulder as he fiddled with the bandage behind her back, resting her head against his.

"You know," Y/N began, her voice soft, "I really enjoyed pretending to be your wife tonight. Even if it was just pretend."

Jesper stood up, having finished tying the bandage. He looked down at her, his legs brushing against hers. "It doesn't have to be pretend."

Y/N felt her heart skip and her breath got caught in her chest. "No," she said, reaching a hand up and combing her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. "It doesn't."

Jesper lurched forward and pressed his lips against Y/N's. The force of Jesper's kiss meant that she had to brace herself against the tomb with her hands, barely catching herself before she fell backward completely.

"Is this ok?" Jesper asked, resting his forehead against hers.

Y/N could feel his breath against her skin. She opened her eyes, immediately getting lost in Jesper's gaze. "It's perfect."

She leant forward and pressed her lips against is neck, trailing down to his shoulder. Jesper pushed her back and Y/N let her arms fold down until she was lying on the tomb, Jesper on top of her.

"I really hope Nina has had the common sense to go outside," Jesper muttered, resting his head against Y/N's chest.

"Either way," Y/N arched her back as Jesper pressed a kiss against the side of her neck, "she will do soon."

[rainbowtransform]

The steps are echoing around him. It feels like his house, too big without his father in it and too quiet without the booming laugher of others echoing.

He has to keep going, Fabian thinks. The others are behind him, but only his steps echo there is no others.

He wants to speak. He needs to. The quiet is surrounding him, only his breathing and the steps he’s taking and the blood roaring in his ears.

And they are right there, aren’t they? The people that make his house feel like a home again. They are behind him and they’re staring at him.

They can’t speak, either.

Or can they?

There has to be laughter, he thinks. He needs to have them again. Fabian can’t live without them. He needs to see them again, and so he keeps going.

What if they’re lying, comes a thought, unbidden. What if no one is behind you? There is no breathing.

“Are you there?” Fabian asks. It stops him in his tracks. There is light somewhere but Fabian doesn’t focus on it. “Guys?”

There is no response and Fabian’s heart is thumping and his mind is spinning and he’s stopped walking. Nobody is answering him and they always answer him. Why aren’t they answering him?

If they were there, they’d answer him.

So—

Kristen isn’t looking back. She holds her staff to her chest, and squeezes her eyes shut. She wants to pray, but it won’t work.

Cassandra was frantic when her connection began frazzling. She was already reaching to pluck them all out of whereever they were before it was cut off completely and now Kristen is alone.

Her friends are behind her.

Kristen won’t look back.

She’s read this myth when she was studying new religions. She knows it like the back of her hand and she refuses to look behind her and doom them all.

Kristen knows this. If she wants them to get out, she can’t lose focus. And she won’t.

She is Saint Kristen Applebees, Head Priestess of Cassandra, goddess of doubt and this is her god’s entire deal.

She can doubt their existence, and she will. Just until they get to the light and all pass through. And then she will spend her nights holding their warm, breathing bodies and checking pulses and casting heals on them.

She will ask Cassandra to grant her more spells for them.

She will ask Cassandra anything for them.

There’s a noise behind her, someone tripping on a rock and—

Gorgug is walking. He doesn’t remember how long he has been walking, but he knows it’s been a while. He closes his eyes, and remembers “It’s Gorgug, Keep Going,” and he keeps walking.

He talks. He talks about how he will take them home, how he will protect them in the night when they fall asleep. He talks about what he had for breakfast (he had nothing, they don’t need to know that) and he talks about how their parents are doing.

He tells them that their parents have torn apart the entire world, chewed through armies, and burned oceans for them.

He tells them that he’s sorry that he didn’t come sooner, but he wasn’t brave enough. He tells them how he spent weeks searching for where they’d went exactly in order to find them.

Gorgug tells them that he will get them out. He makes promises. He asks them to talk to him.

To say something.

His throat is dry and it feels clogged. There are tear tracks on his face, and he doesn’t wipe them away. The drops fall onto the ground and he falls to his knees.

“Please,” he begs. “Please say something. I’m—I can’t. I can’t do this alone.”

It feels like the Nightmare Forest, all alone. It feels like Orc Heaven, with all the flames for miles and with the gleaming eyes of the guidance counselor next to him.

Someone thumps behind to him, someone to their knees and—

Adaine takes another breath of air. There is nothing between her and the goal. It is her, her family, and the gleam of the sun high above her.

She climbs the steps, hearing nothing behind her. Riz would chide her for being stupid and thinking they’re not behind her.

Wherever she’d go, they’d follow. They proved it multiple times. So she knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that they are there.

They are always there.

Except that she can’t see the sparkle of gold hair beads in the sun. There is no bass thrumming steadily through her walk, no spark of a lighter to light another’s cigarette. There’s no tapping of a staff against the floor, not even a glimpse of a Mage Hand reaching out to snatch something from someone else.

Except, her friends aren’t there.

Her breathing becomes more panicked, her throat is closing up. She needs to see, she needs to—

They are behind him. Riz knows this for a fact, because he made sure they would be. He’d made the deal, had woven the contract himself and given it to the entity.

He had sneered at him, laughing and laughing before agreeing. Riz had a glimpse of his friends lining up behind him before he turned around and started walking.

They are behind him, and Riz will get them out because they are his best friends and he won’t leave them to this place.

The steps are hard. They’re one of the hardest things he’s ever done, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and restrain himself from doing anything when he heard that one of them had fallen.

The others help them up, though, and Riz keeps going. He doesn’t ask them if they are alright. If he speaks to them, then he will falter and he can’t.

The sun is just above them, and he can taste the air. It’s almost sweet.

The doorway looms overhead, huge in the overwhelming silence but Riz can’t dwell on it. His watch feels cold on his skin, his father’s panicking voice is one of the things Riz can’t think about.

So he doesn’t.

The air tastes like victory, and Riz grins at the entrance, his watch beeping with his father’s screaming before—

Fig is thrumming her bass, the sound slowly moving through the place.

This is different than the Hell she’s used to. There is no flames, just emptyness and shells of something floating around.

Ankarna is silent, in Fig’s head. She hasn’t said a word since Fig made a deal and she thinks that her goddess is upset with her but—

But these are her friends. These are someone who has stuck by her, through and through and she loves them just as much as she loves Ankarna.

She can’t leave them.

So she keeps going, humming a lullaby she can’t quite remember. Her grandmother sang it to her when she lived with them and used to tuck Fig into bed.

Fig keeps playing. She wonders if drums would go good with the lullaby.

Nobody joins in. There is nothing except her own bass.

She doesn’t speak.

She doesn’t need to.

She just sings and plays, and hopes beyond hope that they are following her music. That they are following her.

She knows they are behind her. Knows it in the marrow of her bones, in the heart of her bass, in the echoes around her.

They are behind her.

They are always behind her.

Where is Fabian’s footsteps, and the rustle of his battle sheet?

Where is Gorgug’s tinker noises, or the heavy swing of his axe on his back?

Where is Adaine’s rustling jacket? Boggy’s croaking?

Where is Kristen’s tapping, her laugh?

Where is Riz’s shuffling papers or the tapping of his wristwatch?

Where are they?

The music stops and before she can even think better—

They look back.

[bloodfreak-boyking]

i literally can't stop thinking about shifter!dean so i curse thee with a brain dump ficlet. cw for non-con groping & kissing

---

"See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends, you could have a life," the shifter said, Dean's stolen face barely visible in the dim sewer light. His eyes flicked between Sam's, hurt and something unidentifiable swimming in them. "Me?" He leaned in closer, the space between them growing hot and humid. Sam could feel the shifter's breath on his cheek. "I know I'm a freak."

Sam scowled, glaring the creature down. "What the hell are you talking about?" Dean was a lot of things; a nerd, a jerk, disgustingly charming, but not a freak. That title was reserved for Sam.

A grin twitched across the shifter's lips. "Oh, you don't know, do you?" it said, amusement thick in his voice.

Sam knew he should ignore it, this impulse to get insight into his brother's mind, his thoughts and feelings that he kept held so closely to his chest. The thing would probably lie anyway. But Sam was never good at resisting temptation. "Know what?"

Not-Dean was suddenly straddling Sam's thighs, a lascivious smile on his face. Sam instinctively tried to move away, but the rope kept him from doing much more than squirming under the creature's weight. A low chuckle rumbled in its chest. "Dean here?" It shoved its hand between them, roughly palming Sam through worn denim. Sam tried to stifle a gasp, only half succeeding. "He wants you. Hell, he's wanted you since he was seventeen."

Sam felt frozen, shock making his limbs feel numb. Or maybe that was the rope cutting off his circulation, he couldn't really spare the brain power to tell. "Wh-what? No, you...you're lying."

The shifter leaned in closer, nipping at Sam's earlobe. "Oh, the things he wants to do to you." He ground his hips down against Sam's lap forcefully. "His sweet little Sammy."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam registered Not-Dean was hard. Another sharp bite, this time to the hinge of his jaw, had him letting out a startled yelp.

The shifter groaned against his skin. "God what he would give to hear you make noises like that." It grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair, yanking down on it hard. Sam, in an attempt to stifle a loud cry, let a pitiful whimper slip past his lips instead. The creature's eyelids fluttered shut. "Fuck, yeah, just like that."

Warm, plush lips were suddenly on him, sliding against his stock-still ones. Before his brain could send the message of no bad no, his own lips were moving. The shifter growled and pulled his head back further, drawing a gasp out of Sam and giving himself an opening to lick deep into Sam's mouth. A soft moan escaped Sam. What could he say? The thing could kiss. Dean could kiss.

It was like a bucket of ice water was dumped on him. He twisted his head away, forcibly breaking the kiss. His heart was hammering in his chest and his stomach flipped and the worst part was, Sam couldn't tell if it was disgust or...

The shifter slowly stood, still trying to catch its breath. It reached down and grabbed one of their duffel bags, swinging it over his shoulder. "Well, it's been great, y'know, shattering your worldview and all," he looked Sam up and down once more, predatory, "but I've got a hot date with lovely little Becky."

...

"Well that's 'cause you're a freak," Dean, the real Dean, teased from behind the wheel as Saint Louis disappeared behind them.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, thanks," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Well I'm a freak too. I'm right there with you, all the way."

"Yeah, I know you are." Sam looked down at his hands, twisting them nervously in his lap. The shifter's words bounced around his brain: He wants you. He shifted in his seat and bit his lip, the next part of the memory playing involuntarily.

Dean shot him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

"Dean...um..." Sam readjusted in his seat again, the Impala suddenly feeling claustrophobically small. "Well, I, uh-"

"C'mon Sammy, spit it out."

"The...the, uh, shifter. It...well it...there's something..."

Dean shot him an annoyed glare "Sam," he admonished.

"Do you want me?" Sam blurted out, his face blooming scarlet and his skin too hot.

Dean's grip tightened on the wheel. A muscle in his jaw ticked. "What?" His voice was too calm, too measured.

"The shifter, it said you wanted me. It...it kissed me. Do...do you want me that way, Dean?"

Dean was clenching his teeth so hard that Sam could've sworn he heard his jaw creaking. His knuckles were white on the wheel and his face, where Sam expected to see fiery red skin, angry or embarrassed, was drained of all color. Dean didn't respond or even look at Sam, just turned up the radio so loud that neither could hear themselves think.

Sam's stomach was in knots again, and this time, it was worse: he knew it wasn't disgust.

[bunnyinfoxclothing]

An Angel's Punishment

Here is a short story request from @hinata-chan-utaitelover!

"To make it set after Emily falls, she makes it to the hotel and during her first week or so there she catches a hell flu (and since she's an angel, it's really bad ;-; bc hell sicknesses affect angels worse than demons...my little hc) and Charlie and Vaggie are taking care of her"

Going to be 100% honest this one got a little bit away from me. Still I hope you enjoy.

Word count: 2018

Let me know if you want this posted on A03 :)

--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--

Emily was sure of herself in a lot of things. She was sure of herself when she took up the mantle of bringing joy to the angels of Heaven, Winners and all. She was sure of herself when she first heard Charlie’s idea of redeeming sinners. She was sure of herself when she first went against Sera. And she was sure of herself every moment after.

She remained sure of herself as a portal to Hell opened in front of her, and without looking at her dear sister, she left.

She was a little less sure of herself as she walked through hell, asking various demons for help locating the Hazbin Hotel. She was met with all manner of rude and outright vulgar responses.

“Can you tell me where I can find the Hazbin Hotel?”

“Fuck Off!”

“Hello! Do you mind–”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Hi there!”

“FUCK there’s more of you Bitches? I thought the last of you were killed off?”

“Uh, hey!”

“Well hello there~”

“Hi! Yes! Okay, do you know where I can find the Hazbin Hotel?”

“Oh, you’re in the market for redemption are you?”

“Not really, I’m just looking for a few friends.”

“I see, well sinner or saint if you’re looking for a place, I think I know somewhere to do that’s a little better suited.”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m specifically looking for the hotel.”

“I’ll take you to a hotel. You won’t be able to tell the difference, you’ll end up worshiping on your knees either way.”

That’s when Emily first learned the strength of an angel present in Hell. She reacted instinctively when he moved to wrap an arm around her shoulder. Her fist went right through his head.

It didn’t take her long to actually locate the hotel after that. Once she stopped looking for people to point her in the right direction, she began noticing posters. 

Most of them were being used to light up dumpster fires. A few had stains from a liquid Emily was too scared to investigate, but as luck would have it, she managed to find one still pasted to a wall.

Then another.

And a few more. 

They were spaced few and far between. Emily assumes most were taken down for more personal use than the one intended, but soon the big glowing letters of the hotel greeted her.

Her wings fluttered and in a quick burst of speed she ran right into the door. Knocking in a playful manner, getting a small beat out on the door, before it opened and she jumped into the arms of the first person on the other side.

Vaggie caught the angel easily. Eyes going wide as she had to drop her spear to avoid impaling what she barely perceived as a pale blue rocket.

Pale blue wasn’t a color that appeared in hell. And exterminators don’t knock. So when fluffy hair filled her vision along with a bouncy nature a little too like Charlie’s, Vaggie easily put two and two together.

She cradled the angel in her arms as horrible facts came to mind. She tried her best to go through every list she could to ensure the girl was fine. She still had her wings. There was no wetness on her body, no blood. No missing eye. Hopefully. Two arms. Two legs. No major injuries.

As she went through her mental checklist, Charlie entered the common area.

“Emily?!”

“Charlie!!” Emily flew from Vaggie’s arms straight into hers. 

Vaggie looked down at her dropped spear with a hint of contemplation. Taking a deep breath. She picked up the spear and lifted one of her wings just slightly, she tucked it between her wing and her back.

Now wasn’t the time for jealousy. There was a fallen angel to take care of.

Charlie and Emily, bounced the conversation around like the world's most competitive game of pingpong. Neither one stayed on a single topic for more than five sentences.

Thankfully, having had years to get used to Charlie’s rambling she managed to pick up on a few things.

1. Emily had come to help with the hotel.

2. It was not a Heaven sanctioned trip.

3. Emily had left Heaven behind, willingly becoming a fallen angel.

It was also extremely clear that Emily had no idea what she had done.

“Your halo.” Not even Vaggie knew where she was going with that sentence.

“I removed it.” Emily answered anyway.

“You can’t return?” Vaggie prayed the answer was no. That she had discreetly left. That she could still return at any time. That she hadn’t doomed herself.

“No? Why would I? I mean you had it right from the beginning. Heaven is full of hypocrites. So, like you, I left.”

Vaggie swallowed her anger. She bottled up her frustration. She took all her negative feelings, and put them in a box to be dealt with later. Emily didn’t need a lecture. She needed a warm bed, and some even warmer clothes.

Loathe as she was to admit it, she needed some of her clothes. Specifically her Charlie clothes. The clothes that used to be Charlie’s that she commandeered. Warm sweatpants. A cuddly sleep shirt that draped down to her mid thigh. Something to sweat out the coming storm, but breathable so she wouldn’t feel like she was suffocating.

Charlie and Emily were quickly back at it within their conversation. Emily bouncing in place, and Charlie just as happy to have her here. 

Vaggie left to prepare a room. One close to her and Charlie’s.

Emily was tired. It could have been any number of things. Her first real time in Hell. Her lack of halo. The excitement of seeing Charlie and Vaggie finally dying down. Either way. It was time for bed.

She excused herself from the conversation with Husk and Angel at the bar, and walked right into the awaiting Charlie and Vaggie.

“Perfect timing!” Charlie smiled. “Our resident Hotel Manager,” She grabbed Vaggie by the shoulders pulling the smaller angel into her much larger form, “already set you up with a room.”

After thoroughly thanking them both, changing into the clothes Vaggie lent her, and another three thank you’s, she was finally crawling into bed. Emily was quick to fall asleep after that.

“So how early do angels usually wake up?” Charlie looked over at Vaggie, just in time to watch her nightie fall onto her form.

“That’s not something we need to worry about.”

“Huh?”

“We’re going to have a sick angel to handle in the morning.” 

“Huh?!?”

“Don’t you remember finding me down here?”

“Yeah! You were sick from infection and bleeding to death.”

“The bleeding stopped on like the third day. There is no infection from angelic weapons, not for angels at least. I’m pretty sure I had the Hell Flu.”

“That’s like a mild three day sickness. You were sick for like a week, and groggy for another few days after that. That’s two completely different things.” Charlie crawled into bed. Flopping onto her back and opening up her arms for Vaggie to crawl into.

“Yeah, for demons. We’re a bit different Charlie. I’ve cared for you, Angel, heck even Husk, during Hell Flu season. It’s the same symptoms, just a touch worse.” Vaggie fell into Charlie’s arms letting herself be held close.

Charlie gave a noncommittal noise. Clearly not entirely believing her girlfriend.

“Think about it, hon. There isn’t even dirt or dust in Heaven, you think they have sickness? Nope. Emily is about to gain an immune system. I'm pretty sure Heaven does it specifically to punish Angels.”

Charlie chose to unpack that part later“We’ll see in the morning. It’s eepy time.”

“Okay Char. eepy time it is.”

Emily was up right around the time Angel finally meandered his way out of his room. Though unlike him, she didn’t flop right at the bar, and instead made her way to the kitchen. She was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, having slept like a log in the comfy clothes Vaggie left her. There was a slight tightness in her throat and one of her nostrils felt a little dry. So her best bet was some water. 

Hell’s air was a little different than Heaven. Maybe she slept with her mouth open and everything just dried up. That sounds like it makes sense.

She found Charlie in the kitchen whipping up some brunch for Angel.

“Oh, hey! How are you feeling Emily?” Charlie’s eyes darted over to Vaggie, who was sitting on the counter next to her happily eating bits of bacon. Popping a few of the chopped up meats into her mouth as well.

Charlie hit her hand with the spoon and continued her attempt at making some scrambled eggs for Angel. Dumping the remaining of the meat into the pan and continuing to stir.

“I’m great, how are you!” Emily reached for a glass. Her hold on it felt weak, so she was sure to support it with both hands. How embarrassing would it be to break a dish on her first real day in hell.

Charlie smiled at Vaggie, before turning back to Emily. “I’m doing amazing!”

Emily filled up her glass. Downed it. Filled another and downed it again. Filling it a third time she held the glass and turned back to the duo. Charlie still focused on cooking. Vaggie was looking at her with a small expression on her face. “How’d you sleep?”

“Honestly, like a log. I don’t think I have ever fallen asleep that fast.”

“Must have been tired.”

“I guess. I mean I just–” Emily cut herself off with her own yawn. “Sorry, wow I don’t know what came over me.”

“Must still be waking up.” Charlie moved the pan off the stove and reached over Vaggie to retrieve some plates.

“Yeah. Must be.”

“Maybe you should head back to bed.” Vaggie had a softer look in her eye this time.

“No! No- ahem- sorry no. I mean I’m fine. Everything is fine. I want to help.”

Whatever conversation was going to happen was cut off as food was served. Emily and Angel ate together. And Emily took the time to connect a bit more with each of the residents. More specifically Angel and Husk now that they weren’t drunk. Well, now that Angel wasn’t drunk.

It was halfway through breakfast when the first coughing fit began. Vaggie shooting a look at Charlie, making her way to talk to Emily while Charlie left to go unpack some tissues. Just in case.

“Hey, Em.”

“Hey, Vaggie.”

“How ya feeling?”

“Not too hot. Or maybe way too hot? Both?”

“Yeah.” Vaggie nodded, slowly bringing the girl to stand. “You wanna get to bed.”

Emily nodded and the two slowly made their way to the elevator. Once inside Emily let out a low groan. “What happened?”

“It’s just the common HellFlu. You won’t die from it.” 

Emily let out another groan.

“Yeah, it will suck though. Don’t worry, knowing Charlie, you’re going to be just fine. ”

Vaggie got Emily into a bathroom to quickly change back into Vaggie’s Charlie clothes, then tucked her into bed. Charlie padded her way into the room shortly after. Two boxes of tissues in one hand. The other held a trash can with a plastic grocery bag lining the inside.

Charlie set herself on the bed next to Emily and pulled out a book, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Have you heard the story of Hell?” Charlie's smile was wide. And Vaggie couldn’t help the giggle that left her mouth.

Emily would undoubtedly fall asleep halfway through the story. And Charlie would start again and reread it to her a total of five separate times, before she got the whole story. Vaggie would happily listen to it over and over again, all while cleaning up used tissues and bringing up Razzle and Dazzle’s special made broth, listening to the two ask questions and talk, because at the end of the day. It was her that Charlie curled up against.

Which she didn’t mind, until she woke up with the sniffles.

[waitmyturtles]

Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: Secret Crush On You (SCOY) Edition

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. Today, I offer my thoughts on the importance of Saint Suppapong's and Cheewin Thanamin's Secret Crush on You in the annals of Thai BL history.]

I offer a very hearty THANK YOU to my dear friends @lurkingshan and @bengiyo for reviewing this draft before publication!

Well! A VERY belated happy new year from the OGMMTVC shores! I have allowed myself a lengthy onboarding back to the pattern of watching older Thai BLs due to many life circumstances around the 2023 holidays.

But I do still stay on my grind: while I was slowly watching and re-watching SCOY over the last month, I've added two current shows to the list, which I'll explain about later, and I've also taken up reading an incredibly important book to this project, Dr. Thomas Baudinette's ethnographic study, Boys Love Media in Thailand, which is giving me tremendous insight and history into the development of the Thai BL genre from direct reporting in Asia. In other words, the OGMMTVC project is still cooking along -- I'll plan to post about the book when my current watchlist is at a pause, while current shows on the list are airing.

All that being said, I'm here today to report on my watch of 2022's Secret Crush on You. Here's a little outline to keep me organized:

1) A quick reminder of how SCOY got on the OGMMTVC list, 2) A thematic hit list of why SCOY belongs on the list, and why it's so important for the history of Thai BL, and 3) A few personal takes on the show.

SCOY got on the OGMMTVC list way back in May 2023, in the comments of my glowing review of the second season of Make It Right, suggested by @absolutebl Sensei themself. SCOY is directed by Cheewin Thanamin, who had co-directed MIR and MIR2 along with New Siwaj. (He is also, famously AND infamously, the director of the recent shows Playboyy and Middleman's Love, as well as many other shows, including YYY, Why R U, and more.)

At the time of my watch of MIR2, I reveled in the fabulous endings of TeeFuse and FrameBook, the holistically loving and embracing relationships of those two couples, who were fearlessly and openly queer and committed to each other; and I compared those endings to that of another fabulous Cheewin show, 2023's Bed Friend, which also ended glowingly, after a hell of a traumatic journey, for the dear mains, KingUea.

SCOY, from a growth perspective, fits between the high school world of MIR and the working adult world of Bed Friend, showcasing Toh, the stalker-shy university junior outcast; Nuea, the popular, athletic, and gorgeous university senior, and their respective groups of friends, who, to a tee, end up with each other. In the comments of my MIR2 review, @absolutebl wrote,

"...there is a case to be made that Cheewin is having a conversation with us[,] the culmination of which is actually SCOY. It feels like everything in his career was leading to that show[.]"

I believe this is absolutely right. While the public commentary on SCOY was that the first few episodes would be hard to digest -- for me, it took until episode *9* to feel comfortable enough to ride the SCOY train -- the amount of internal and external-to-BL themes that SCOY carries within it marks it as an incredibly important show for the annals of Thai BL history.

I also want to note that, after SCOY, Cheewin's War of Y also airs in 2022, as a macro commentary on the BL industry. Without having seen War of Y yet -- I think it makes sense, and is quite fitting, that there may be similar themes between these two shows as to what SCOY was addressing by way of personal and industry-related psychologies.

I'll get into those themes in a second, but as so many of you know as well: this was also the first production for Saint Suppapong's agency, Idol Factory, featuring (for 2022) a slate of incredible new QL actors and actresses who have already made a fast and deep impact on the genre (...fast and deep impact huh huh ANYWAY).

Putting ourselves into Saint's shoes -- a man well familiar with the pitfalls of the BL industry, vis à vis his associations with his previous PerthSaint and ZeeSaint ships -- I can make a safe assumption that he approached the production of SCOY with the intent to make a groundbreaking show, and to approach the fan service side of the BL industry with as much consciousness for his actors as possible. While I'm not watching Idol Factory's latest show, The Sign, I am noting that The Sign's two stars, Billy Patchanon (of SCOY) and Babe Tanatat are very good at their fan service offerings. (Heng in this video, omg.) But all that being said, the unfortunate incident last year of the untimely revelation of Seng Wichai's and Freen Sarocha's relationship indicates that Idol Factory is also not immune to the controversies and pitfalls of the BL and shipping industries.

What I particularly loved about SCOY -- and why I agree with @absolutebl and many BL fandom veterans that it belongs on the OGMMTVC list -- is that this show unabashedly insisted that all people are people, all humans are equitably humans, and all humans deserve the same emotional and social respect as anyone else. It punched social expectations of the "winners" and "losers" down to the ground to offer nuanced narratives of most of its characters.

We see Toh (Seng Wichai) and his group of friends repeatedly put down and bullied. We see Toh and Jao kicked to the ground for their looks and presentations. We see popular Nuea (Billy) and Sky (Heng Asavarid) suffering from jealousy, insecurity, unrequited love and desire. We see Nuea and Sky objectified. We see Daisy question themself for their femme identity, and we see Daisy's group of friends become so moved and emotional about this change as to both uplift Daisy's preferences and to support them in whatever changes they want to make.

We also see -- for only the second time on the OGMMTVC list, and surely in the biggest BL up til 2022 -- a prominent femme side character in Daisy, one who is very much pursued by a cis male suitor in Touch. (The first time we see such a prominent femme character on the OGMMTVC syllabus is, again, in Cheewin's Make It Right 2, in the character of Yok, who was very out and very gay throughout that season.)

I'm going to examine this more in just a bit, but I also want to note, in a fabulous conversation I had with @bengiyo about SCOY, that this show also somewhat upends social expectations of who exactly gets bullied in a "typical" school setting. We do very much see Toh and his friend group get attacked. We see that friend group come together in support of each other. But we also see them very much accepted, as they are, by the older, more popular friend group.

There are many more examples of these themes, but in any case:

These were nuanced, layered, and sophisticated depictions of humanity, all for a show within the BL genre that had started its journey, way back in 2014, in demanding clear seme/uke dynamics and male/female characteristic assumptions between main couples. SCOY clearly took great pains to examine and upend these assumptions. In particular, the hot tub conversation in episode 9 had me going wild; a conversation that has become legendary as it was the first time (and not the last!) that a character of Billy Patchanon's stated that he was verse:

By the time we get to 2022, I love what this conversation signifies for Thai BL. From SOTUS's Kongpob saying that he'll make Arthit his wife; to Pat clarifying to BOTH Pran AND Phupha, "I'm not your wife" -- and, now in SCOY, to Nuea being like, "oh, roles? Yeah, whateves, I'm down," is such a refreshing spin to the conversation about the demands that the genre, AND society, place on hulking cis-presenting men like Nuea/Billy.

Of course, the biggest upending to any assumptions that viewers (including myself) may have had about the dynamics between the two main couples of NueaToh and SkyJao was in seeing how deeply insecure both Nuea and Sky were of the stability of their relationships with their boyfriends in Toh and Jao. Nuea and Sky both recognized that it was literally society itself -- and the very deep internal impacts that society could have on the psyches of the nerdy Toh and Jao -- that could threaten the sanctity of Nuea's and Sky's relationships.

Nuea and Sky weren't relying or assuming on their good looks or popularity ranks to win Toh and Jao over. Nuea and Sky were very much in love with these two men, and both wanted to have holistically complete and committed relationships with their boyfriends. And Nuea and Sky WORKED for these relationships, and feared the worst, often, if an internal obstacle (like Jao's insecurity) or external obstacle (like the girls in pursuit of Nuea) got in their way.

@bengiyo, in reference to my conversation with him earlier, mentioned a social shade to all of this that I found fascinating. He noted that this show did NOT interrogate the "weirdness" of Toh and his friend group. I'm actually going to criticize that just a touch in a bit, because I would have liked more background context into Toh, myself. However, Ben makes an important point about this, because he noted to me that majority society WOULD interrogate the origins of Toh's "weirdness" -- and would NOT interrogate the popularity, good looks, and success of Nuea and his group, because majority society would well assume that Nuea and his group are... "normal."

I find these instinctual inclinations to be FASCINATING to ponder, and I really think SCOY did a wonderful job in allowing us as viewers an "in" to a loving alternate reality that those who are considered "weird" in this world deserve a fair and equitable shot at love and acceptance from all corners. Ben noted for me that MUCH more often in majority society, that being queer makes someone vastly unpopular. (Ben also noted for me that what SCOY posits for Nuea and Sky by way of their queer presentations against their popular standings would likely have led to them being ostracized in real life.)

I want to note that this loving alternate reality for the unpopular is almost exactly similar to another fictional environment created by Cheewin in Make It Right -- which prompted an early and memorable conversation between Ben and me early in this project. (Thank you so much to @bengiyo for giving me time and space to read and comment on this SCOY piece.)

I want to posit -- again, without having seen War of Y -- that all of this is fascinating territory for Idol Factory, in its first show, to tread by way of humanizing IF's gloriously good-looking talent in Billy, Heng, and others. I'll know more by way of comparison when I actually watch War of Y -- but I think SCOY does a FABULOUS job in slowly leading viewers to contemplate our assumptions about how "easy" it might be to be a good-looking and/or athletic person in society. Insecurity and instability are common characteristics among all of us. SCOY very decidedly skewers any assumptions that viewers, and society, may have about the "transcendent" nature of the show's fictional "celebrities" to bring all of its characters down to a more common and equitable human level.

By a long shot, these themes are the ones that I loved absolutely the most about SCOY. I have a few personal takes on the show that I'll share in just a moment, but one more shout of celebration that I'd like to offer to SCOY is the following:

Of all the excellent acting in this show -- from Billy, to Heng, to the utterly DELIGHTFUL Looknam Orntara as Som, to the fabulous Surprise Pittikorn as a conflicted and insecure Jao -- let me offer all the flowers to

Seng Wichai, who had me CRINGING, OMG, *CRINGING*, throughout most of SCOY.

I hope this man won AWARDS for this role. All of my feelings towards the character of Toh aside -- Seng Wichai absolutely BODIED this role. I was SQUIRMING during the first three quarters of this series. God, he NAILED every last characteristic that would make a person like Toh so interpretively painful and pitiful. That Seng left Idol Factory last year, before his relationship with Freen was exposed, is, I think, a huge loss for IF. I know War of Y is chaotic, but I actually can't wait to watch it simply to see another side of Seng's acting.

For Seng's Toh to be pursued so intensely by Nuea -- and for Toh to be so Toh throughout that pursuit -- I truly can't think of a past BL actor from the past OGMMTVC dramas that could have done a better and more nuanced job than Seng Wichai to just remain so COMMITTED to Toh's modus operandi of stalking and collecting, especially so DEEP into the 14-episode run.

I will admire Seng's performance endlessly. My very own personal take on SCOY -- which I do not want to detract from its importance in the BL genre annals -- was that I think some of Cheewin's typical chaotic flourishes did not quite comport with the complicated emotionality that SCOY otherwise served.

At the end of the series, we meet Toh's parents in rural Suphanburi -- but we don't get a sense throughout the series of why Toh decides to pursue Nuea only from afar, in stalker-like actions, for so very long. Again, this stalker behavior is only presented as an MO -- and as @bengiyo noted to me, that was likely on purpose, as a means of showing that Toh's friend group would be accepting of each other NO MATTER their unique characteristics.

We also have to wait a VERY long time in the series for Toh to be held accountable for his stalking actions, as he even continues to collect items well into his relationship with Nuea. The flip side of this is an empathic one -- he's collecting the items out of an assumption, on his end, that his relationship with Nuea WILL end. However, it's made clear that Toh had no intention to ever tell Nuea of this side of Toh's behavior.

There were other moments in the show that tonally confused me, particularly in episode 5, the first time that the group goes to the beach, where Toh is in the hotel room with Nuea for the first time, and is both overtly confident that he might get it on with Nuea, but also seems reluctant to actually pursue it once Nuea starts offering hints. I worked this out with @lurkingshan (thank you, friend!) that Toh was demonstrating a brave face and fantasy to start, but was surprised when Nuea actually reciprocated the consideration. This happened a couple of times throughout the show, and Shan's assessment makes absolute sense -- I think I could have used some language clarity around those scenes myself, particularly when Toh was talking postgame with his friends after those moments, that he was surprised by Nuea's acceptance. But, @lurkingshan -- your assessment of the pattern holds, and I understand it.

Once I finished the series, I read @absolutebl's 2022 review of SCOY, and ABL -- I totally understand your perspective. I get the pull between adoration and cringe for this show. A stalker premise is HEAVY. It didn't help, in that heaviness, to have no past context to Toh's behavior, coupled with Seng's incredible cringy performance.

If another director without as many chaotic tendencies could have directed this show -- I think we would have gotten a more complete and contextual emotionality to the show that would have helped Toh's and Nuea's relationship be portrayed as fully full-circle.

I think this is enough of a quibble that'll keep me from easily rewatching SCOY. But, towards the end of the series (@twig-tea, YOU WERE RIGHT!) -- especially from episode 9 onwards -- I felt that I finally and truly understood where this show was going, and what it was about, and I felt endeared to it.

I think many in the fandom will agree that SkyJao was actually the couple that interpreted, much more clearly, the impact of social pressures and insecurities on a relationship, and for that, I will forever shout

SKYJAO! SKYJAO! SKYJAO!

as one of my absolute favorite side pairings of all time.

SCOY was a hard watch for me because of the interruptions of the holidays, of life, and because I've gotten a little less patient with Cheewin's chaos (...I dropped Playboyy, omg, I have to admit), despite my utter admiration for his work on Make It Right and Bed Friend.

But the difficulties I had in watching it should not take away from honoring this show as a hell of an important one. It makes me admire Saint Suppapong to no end for spending his own damn money towards the pursuit of better BLs. And the acting in SCOY was truly FANTASTIC. Despite my own personal reservations, I cannot recommend SCOY highly enough -- because watching it, and enjoying it, is truly a perfect demarcation to understand how far Thai BLs had gotten to its airing moment in 2022.

[OKAY! As I mentioned above, this project has gotten even richer with the addition of my current reading of Dr. Thomas Baudinette's Boys Love Media in Thailand -- I look forward to offering my thoughts on that book after my watch project is over.

I have added a few shows to the watchlist! The recently-aired Last Twilight makes it on as a show that centered disability vis à vis BL for the first time, and Cherry Magic Thailand makes it on as Thailand's first major adaptation of a Japanese manga and dorama. I've also added 23.5, GMMTV's first GL, to the list, although the premiere date continues to be up in the air for that show.

AS WELL! An actual Japanese BL makes it on the list, ha ha! I'm obsessed with this because I'm learning from Baudinette about the Japanese roots of Thai BL. I am in LOVE with Ossan's Love Returns, and it happily features a cameo by none other than Loong Jim and Wen, who hilariously (AND SMARTLY, go get yer money, guys) franchised Moonlight Chicken to Japan. Earth Pirapat and Mix Sahaphap make the most adorable cameo, and they will be inhabiting Haruta's and Maki's roles when the Thai version of Ossan's Love starts filming later this year.

FINALLY! My own personally long-awaited KinnPorsche (OOOO-WEEEEE!) rewatch is up next, but I'm taking a beat to catch up on Cooking Crush. I can't wait for my late-night liveblogs on KP, though -- they're coming soon!

Here's the status of the list -- as always, Tumblr's web editor is NOT nice to this list, so please mosey over to this link for your very latest updates on the project!

1) The Love of Siam (2007) (movie) (review here) 2) My Bromance (2014) (movie) (review here) 3) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 4) Gay OK Bangkok Season 1 (2016) (a non-BL queer series directed by Jojo Tichakorn and written by Aof Noppharnach) (review here) 5) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 6) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here) 7) Gay OK Bangkok Season 2 (2017) (a non-BL queer series directed by Jojo Tichakorn and written by Aof Noppharnach) (review here) 8) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here) 9) Together With Me (2017) (review here) 10) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) (review here) 11) Love By Chance (2018) (review here) 12) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) (no review) 13) He’s Coming To Me (2019) (review here) 14) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) and Our Skyy x Kiss Me Again (2018) (review here) 15) TharnType (2019-2020) (review here) 16) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (OffGun BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (no review) 17) Theory of Love (2019) (review here) 18) 3 Will Be Free (2019) (a non-BL and an important harbinger of things to come in 2019 and beyond re: Jojo Tichakorn pushing queer content in non-BLs) (review here) 19) Dew the Movie (2019) (review here) 20) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) (review here) (and notes on my UWMA rewatch here) 21) 2gether (2020) and Still 2gether (2020) (review here) 22) I Told Sunset About You (2020) (review here) 23) YYY (2020, out of chronological order) (review here) 24) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (not a true BL, but a MaxTul queer/gay romance set within a genre-based show that likely influenced Not Me and KinnPorsche) (review here) 25) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 26) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake Of Rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (re-review here) 27) Lovely Writer (2021) (review here) 28) Last Twilight in Phuket (2021) (the mini-special before IPYTM) (review here) 29) I Promised You the Moon (2021) (review here) 30) Not Me (2021-2022) (review here) 31) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 32) 55:15 Never Too Late (2021-2022) (not a BL, but a GMMTV drama that features a macro BL storyline about shipper culture and the BL industry) (review here) 33) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch (Links to the BBS OGMMTVC Meta Series are here: preamble here, part 1, part 2, part 3a, part 3b, and part 4) 34) Secret Crush On You (2022) 35) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here)  36) KinnPorsche (2022) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For the Sake of Re-Analyzing the KP Cultural Zeitgeist (watching)

...interrupting the OGMMTVC list here to watch War of Y (2022) in chronology and to decide if it gets listed...

37) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 38) The Eclipse OGMMTVC Rewatch to Reexamine the Start of “Genre BLs” and Internalized/Externalized Homophobia in GMMTV Shows  39) GAP (2022-2023) (Thailand’s first GL) 40) My School President (2022-2023) and Our Skyy 2 x My School President (2023) 41) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here) 42) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) 43 La Pluie (2023) (review coming) 44) Be My Favorite (2023) (tag here) (I’m including this for BMF’s sophisticated commentary on Krist’s career past as a BL icon) 45) Wedding Plan (2023) (Recommended as an important trajectory in the course of MAME’s work and influence from TharnType) 46) Only Friends (2023) (tag here) (not technically a BL, but it certainly became one in the end) 47) Last Twilight (2023-24) (tag here) (on the list as Thailand’s first major BL to center disability, successfully or otherwise) 48) Cherry Magic Thailand (2023-24) (tag here) (on the list as the first major Japanese-to-Thai drama adaptation, featuring the comeback of TayNew) 49) Ossan’s Love Returns (2024) (adding for the EarthMix cameo and the eventual Thai remake) 50) 23.5 (2024)]

[drkmgs]

Mx. Brightside

Wednesday Addams x reader

Warning: Angst, car accident, death

I got this last song syndrome, Mr. Brightside. It's either about a guy who caught his girlfriend cheating or a guy avoiding seeing his ex with another guy. Of course, I had to write a story about it in a gender-neutral way.

Wednesday Addams x reader

Coming out of my cage

And I've been doing just fine

Gotta gotta be down

It was midnight when you arrived at the small town of Jericho. It seems like you stumbled upon a ghost town because it was awfully quiet, and the only store with light was a caféhouse. You parked somewhere near it, turned off the engine, got out of the car, and locked it.

Because I want it all

It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

You came to a halt when you see your girlfriend at the caféhouse. You see the last time you saw her was the day she got transferred here. She did promise you, she would contact you in any way, when she got out of Nevermore, but it's been a month since she said that and no news came from her. So, it was up to you, to find out what happened to her.

It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss

You stood in front of the shop, the distance was enough to see who she was talking to. There was a boy, who looks like an employee of the caféhouse. You see them talking, also standing too close for your liking. You wanted to interrupt them, but your feet were glued onto the road. The next thing you see broke your dearest heart.

Now I'm falling asleep

Now they're going to bed

And my stomach is sick

And it's all in my head

But she's touching his chest now

He takes off her dress now

Let me go

You saw her half smile, which she swore only to show you, but why was she smiling at him? You couldn't watch this anymore and got into your car. You drove away with a screeching noise. The reflection of your rear mirror showed that you got her attention and were running after you for a couple of meters until you stepped on the gas, making it impossible for her to follow.

And I just can't look, it's killing me

And taking control

The pain in your chest is heavy, it had you screaming, crying, and hitting the steering wheel. You never thought a heartbreak could be this painful. It got you wondering if any of your future relationships would end up like this. Your eyes were blurry because of crying. You got blinded by headlights that were coming in your direction. That's when you realized you were on the wrong line of the road and maneuvered to avoid the vehicle.

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

You crashed against the roadside safety barriers with the speed you are driving, your car is completely demolished. Everything surrounding you was spinning and you feel a splitting headache coming. There was warm liquid flowing down your eyes. You could feel the coldness in the air and the trembling of your body. You tried to look outside, but you were too crushed between the steering wheel and your seat that you couldn't move.

Open up my eager eyes

'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

You already knew this is going to be your end. Nobody's going to find you, it's been an hour since you crashed, and yet there's no driving car nearby. The only thing you can do now was recall all your perfect memories with your loved ones. You see your parents being proud of you. Your friends are supportive and lastly Wednesday, giving you her half smile. How wonderful. You are slowly drifting away from reality, going into a deep slumber.

The principal's car was seen driving fast down the road. It came to a halt when she found your car, exiting a tall woman with shock on her face and a pigtailed girl who was on the edge of breaking down. A Firetruck and an Ambulance were right behind them. They immediately sprung into action as soon as they saw the wrecked car.

Anxiety went through Wednesday's body. Her visions only showed her your accident but not if you were alive or dead. She tried on the way to the scene, to trigger her visions, to show if you're alive, but nothing helped.

It almost took another hour to get you out of the unrecognizable car. They immediately performed a chest compression indicating that your heart stood still. Paramedics and Firefighters would change positions to get your heart pumping again, but it never came. They finally used the Defibrillator to shock your heart. One. Two. Three times, you were shocked but nothing happened. Paramedics and Firefighters looked at each other as they announced your time of death.

That's when Wednesday lost it. Her knees gave up. She was weeping and bawling her eyes out. The pain and guilt were burning her from the inside out. Sorry's echoed through the empty road, blaming herself for your death. Principal Weems got her up to her feet and slowly guided her to your lifeless body.

She threw herself onto you. Shaking you. Begging you to wake up. To come back to her. But there was no response. She was devastated. She begged for forgiveness and asked all of her ancestors to bring you back to her. She promised to treat you better, but it was too late. You'll never be coming back.