#also ethans 1 inch hair

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

doodles

[belovedwhore]

pretty boy

ethan landry x reader

warnings: a little bit of plot, smut obv, fingering, blowjob, “nipple play” like barely, and ethan’s a lowkey sub

notes: i watched scream 6 yesterday and i had to like this man is just so fine. also this takes place at the party so technically he isn’t ghostface just yet so we’ll leave it at that. just a normal college boy :)

if you like this lmk what other stuff you’d want to read for ethan, in need of prompts!!!

pt 1 , pt 2 , pt 3 , pt 4 , pt 5 , pt 6

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it was halloweekend and you and your friends came to a frat party. you and tara had dressed as pirates just grabbing stuff that was left around. the party was going pretty well, well until you took a long swig of a bottle of pink whitney and ran upstairs after seeing your ex hooking up with this girl that was “just a friend”, what a load of bullshit. you went into the nearest unlocked room, closing the door behind you and locking it.

“fuck me,” you muttered to yourself, “fuck me in the fucking ass.”

you turned around to go sit down on the bed and there sat ethan, well a rather red faced ethan after your remark, just looking at you. ethan was a part of your friend group, the cute dorky guy. his cardboard robot costume was littered on the floor, leaving him in his joggers and a shirt. you were surprised he wasn’t somewhere with chad getting a pep talk to finally talk to a girl.

“hey,” he greeted giving you a small wave as if you two weren’t the only people in the room.

“god were you gonna say anything sooner I didn’t know anyone was in here,” you answered as you walked over and sat in front of him while his back was against the headboard.

“oh sorry, my bad.”

“nah it’s fine, worse shit has happened to me tonight that’s for sure.”

“like what,” he inquired.

“well for starters my ex is fucking the bitch that he said he was “just friends” with during our whole relationship so,” you responded hurriedly and angrily.

“oh i’m so sorry, that’s messed up.”

“yes it is, welcome to my life pretty boy”

you hadn’t meant to say the nickname out loud but that long drink was starting to hit you and you couldn’t care less at the moment. ethan blushed at your comment, looking down unable to meet you eye.

“hey,” you told him, “look at me.”

you grabbed both sides of his face with your hands and giggled, “such a pretty boy with pretty lips.”

at this point ethan was bright red and speechless, just muttering words trying to form a sentence, “l-l-l-look i think you’re drunk.”

“i’m fine, anyways i have a question.”

“ok,” he gulped, “what’s up.”

with your answer you pulled his head closer to you own, lining your lips up right next to his ear, “do you think it’s fair that my ex gets to fuck someone tonight and i don’t?”

as you finished your sentence you could feel ethan’s breath hitch in his throat, it made you smile. you moved his head back in front of you so you were face to face once again.

“is it?,” you reiterated

ethan quickly shook his head no, unable to speak. with your hands still on his neck you moved his head closer to you once again but this time your lips were only an inch away.

“i couldn’t hear you pretty boy, i said do you think it’s fair that i don’t get fucked tonight.”

“n-no,” he answered quickly.

“great, glad to know we’re on the same page,” you said quickly as you brought his lips to yours and kissed him.

you could tell he was shocked by the suddenness of the kiss because his lips were kind of stiff but moments later they melted into the kiss. you led the kiss, poking your tongue past his lips to entangle his tongue with your own, and with this you could hear his moans. it was music to your ears. without breaking the kiss you moved to straddle his waist, as his hands fell to your own, lowering yourself on his clothed length that was hardening by the second. this pressure caused him to let out a grunt into the kiss as he bucked his hips, hitting your center. you tangled your hands with the curly hair at the nape of his neck, yanking it back towards the headboard, separating the kiss so you were looking in each other’s eyes. both of you were breathing heavily, ethan’s lips all pink and swollen from your kissing, fuck he was so hot. breathless he looked up at you while you took off your vest to reveal yourself in a white shirt that you’d spilled on earlier at the party. with no bra on your nipples were exposed through the fabric and you think ethan may have died right then and there.

he began to move his hands from your waist up the sides of your body until they rested right next to your tits. he looked at you as he slowly took one hand to grope one of them. you bit your lip at this feeling, as his hands were both rough and soft as he kneaded your tit. watching you still he swiped his thumb across your clothed nipple earning a lustful reaction. you moaned and muttered curses under your breath, with you head rolling back. he took this as encouragement to continue. he resumed with both hands massaging and kneading your tits, twisting and pinching your nipples now and then. all this made your core ache as you felt the wetness pooling between your legs, you rolled your hips against ethan’s dick chasing some sort of friction. you took your top off and laid your tits bare to him. and he took this opportunity to latch his lips to one of your nipples, nibbling and swirling his tongue around it while still playing with the other. your body jolted at this sudden rush of pleasure, you couldn’t keep quiet,

“oh fuck ethan,” you moaned as he licked you nipple.

breaking his contact with your tit you bring his face to yours once again and resume the kiss, the rhythm much faster and fervent this time. your lips molded together perfectly with the occasional moan into the kiss as ethan still played with your nipples. you reached under his shirt, looking for bare skin to touch and you felt the ridges of his abs fuck you forgot how ripped he was. you broke the kiss to pull his shirt off his head needing to see his bare chest. after it was off he leaned forward to reconnect your lips but you pushed him back,

“my turn.”

and you leaned forward placing kisses on his neck as he moaned in response. you sucked on special spots, sure to leave a mark that’d show later. it was so hot hearing him moan under your touch, he bucked his hips as you kissed under his ear in hopes of some sort of friction. as you continued to kiss all over his body your hand trailed to the waistband of his sweatpants, tracing his v-line into the article of clothing. you palmed his clothed length feeling him jolt underneath your touch,

“oh oh my god,” he breathlessly moaned unable to come up with any other words.

suddenly you felt his hand creep under your skirt and onto your own bundle of nerves, massaging the mound through your panties.

“oh ethan,” you moaned

wanting to touch more of him you reached your hand into his joggers until his own grabbed your wrist and stopped you. confused you looked up at him tilting your head slightly.

“umm,” he muttered quietly, “i-i wanna do you first.”

with his hand still on your heat he began to rub over your clothed center once again. you hummed in agreement as his fingers sent shocks through your body. you soon reconnected the kiss, wanting to feel him on your lips as he played with your pussy. you felt him drag your panties to the side, exposing your bare cunt directly to his fingers. this new feeling caused you to jolt up but you felt his other hand on your waist holding you down. he swiped his finger through your arousal and around your entrance until he dipped his middle finger into the hole, burying it deep inside you. you loudly gasped, pulling away from the kiss as you jolted up a bit.

“oh my god, did that hurt, i’m so sorry, shouldn’t have done that,” ethan rambled

he began to remove his hand from your cunt until you stopped him.

“don’t fucking move.”

you pushed yourself back down onto his finger, moaning the entire way down. he watched as you squirmed on top of his hand until he was fully inside you again.

“pretty boy please move your finger,” you teased.

ethan quickly snapped out of his daze and began to finger you slowly, curling his finger so he was pressing on the bundle of nerves that had built up over this time.

“another…” you spoke breathlessly, “another finger.”

he obliged sliding his ring finger into you, the new pressure began to spur you towards the edge but there’s something you still needed.

practically fucking yourself on his fingers you whined, “faster ethan, you need to go faster. you’re not gonna hurt me.”

and that simple ask was all it took for him to rapidly increase his pace. he immediately started to pound his fingers into you, curling them repeatedly to hit your spot.

you cried out, “fuck oh my- i’m gonna cum,” and this only spurred him on as he captured one of your tits in his mouth and violently sucked on your nipple.

and suddenly you froze, your pussy clenched around ethan’s fingers and your legs felt weak as your orgasm ripped through you. your head fell onto his chest out of exhaustion, and his fingers were still inside you through your high as you clenched violently around them. you kissed him softly, a bit tired after your insane orgasm. slowly you pulled his hand out from under you, gasping at the loss of his fingers inside of you. you placed his middle and ring finger inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around them, cleaning them of your arousal. he looked at you, mouth wrapped around his fingers and felt a twitch in his pants. he breathed heavily as you pulled yourself off of his fingers and he pulled you in for a kiss, tasting you on your own tongue. as you made out you moved your hand once again to palm his clothed dick but wasted no time reaching into his pants. you felt his bare length, veins bulging as you felt his tip was already leaking insane amounts of precum. he shuddered viciously into the kiss under your touch.

“you’re big pretty boy,” you whispered into his ear as you swiped your finger over his slit that was leaking precum.

“oh my god,” he started as you began to move your hand up and down his shaft slowly. he roughly groaned, shifting on the bed as you began to speed up. you watched him intently with his eyes screwed shut and heavy breathing. you spit down between the two of you, onto his cock so your hand would glide better on his skin. this unfamiliar feeling caused ethan to buck his hips, fucking himself into your hand.

“oh fuck i’m gonna- oh my god,” he groaned as he finished in your hand, eyes screwed shut and his dick twitching as he shot out loads of cum onto your stomach. you kept pumping him through his orgasm until he was whimpering and letting out a string of profanities under his breath.

he didn’t even know how hot he was, sitting there violently moaning as he came all over you, god you needed him. as he opened his eyes, you grabbed his face and placed a couple pecks to his lips.

“you’re cute when you cum pretty boy,” you said to him, making him turn red immediately.

you pulled him closer to you and kissed him thoroughly once again until you both heard a violent knock on the door, causing you both to jump.

“ethan are you in there, it’s chad we gotta go, her ex pissed her off and we can’t find her,” spoke the voice.

ethan looked at you and responded still out of breath, “ok yea i’ll be out in a second, just gimme a minute.”

“alright,” chad responded.

as his footsteps faded away before getting off ethan’s lap you whispered to him, “you owe me a fuck.”

[enm-enthusiast]

The Exhibitionists' Club Ch. 7 - Sebastian Part 1

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Last chapter followed Sebastian's boyfriend Thomas entering a male arousal study for extra credit, and ended up being milked by his insanely hot anatomy professor, and now he confronts his lover with the possible desire to have sex with the older man...

Sebastian

"Wait...you mean professor, ass of a Greek God, Ethan?" I said in response to Thomas bursting into the dorm room and shouting about how much he wanted to fuck a professor on campus.

"...yes" he said, meekly.

His eyes looked downcast, like he was ashamed. My heart sunk in my own chest and beckoned him over to me. He closed the door behind him and practically jumped into my arms on his bed. As I caressed his soft, wavy black hair I worked out the words I wanted to say:

"Babe, your going to run into certain guys that you are extremely attracted to, its natural. Like, there's a few bros in my Frat I'd love to bend over but I know I can't not just because they're straight, but also because it'd complicate things too much" I said.

He looked up at me, those sweet and sad puppy dog eyes never failed to make my heart melt.

"I won't forbid it, but I do want you to be careful, okay? don't do anything to get yourself hurt or in trouble, you got it?" I said.

"Don't worry Seb, I have it all handled" he said, smiling so warmly I couldn't resist kissing him, his warm velvety lips inviting further exploration which caused a stir in my groin.

But....I had somewhere to be, I had to get back to the Frat house and clean up my room and study for the rest of the night before bed. So I reluctantly pulled away before I found myself pounding away inside him once again.

He had a slightly pouty look on his face as I got up, but I merely smiled in return and said "Don't give me that look mister, you were supposed to strip down as soon as you got home, remember? be glad I didn't spank you again as punishment" I finished and a deep blush flooded his cheeks.

"I'll let it slide this time, but next time that ass is getting both a pounding AND a spanking, and I don't think you want both in a row" I said, giving him a mischievous wink as I closed the door behind me and started down the stairs of Thomas' dorm building.

I didn't tell Thomas this, but I was having some problems with the Frat lately ever since I bested the president, a real prick named Eric at a strip wrestling match in the Rainbow Room. The whole thing happened because of pledge week where we had to do one dare no matter how bad it was, and the vide president had dared me to wrestle Eric but I got to choose the time, place, and rules.

Eric lost. Badly. He ended up naked before his entire frat, who made sure to take plenty of photos of their senior's humiliation. He had been so angry lately, he was pissing off everybody and by extension some people were avoiding me because I was the source of his ire.

I got the impression that many of the seniors and other officers had grown increasingly tired of Eric's antics, I felt they were waiting for the proverbial straw. Until then I did my best to avoid Eric when I could, even try to apologize for things going so far but to no avail and I got the distinct feeling that he was planning some sort of payback.

Thomas already had enough to worry about with all this medical study business (which I found kinda hot, in a way) that I didn't want him to worry about me, besides I could take care of myself.

I was completely lost in my own thoughts as I walked across campus towards the frat houses I passed by a few security patrols. I recognized a few since I had recently landed a position as a student assistant to help pay my college expenses. This time it was that cute, blonde twink named....Daniel? and a bigger, beefy muscle dad named Jack who filled out every inch of his uniform which never failed to make me drool.

I waved at them politely but moved on without speaking a word, I had precious little time left in the day. I began walking up the steps to my two-story frat house and to my surprise there was a lot of noise going on inside. I heard loud, angry shouts coming a male voice from the main living room and a few others shouted back in response.

I opened the door and walked in and suddenly I heard the words much more clearly:

"-should be here to defend himself, you have no right to just go through a brother's room without him present or reasonable suspicion of banned items" I heard the vice president James say, who was unusually a nerdy tall kid with glasses and short brown hair. He was the smartest guy here and everyone knew it, and if Eric wasn't your atypical "popular jock" he'd be president instead.

"I have every right if I have personally witnessed him smuggling banned items into said room, and because those items were indeed found in his room, he needs to be punished accordingly" Eric, I now realized, said.

I felt a slight sense of dread as I suspected who he was talking about and slowly entered the living room and all eyes turned to me, some in sympathy, others in indifference to Eric's latest bullshit. James was up in Eric's face, and the latter had a sinister smirk that grew wide upon seeing me enter.

"Ah, the guest of honor has arrived, tell us brother Sebastian, why did I find *these* in your room today?" Eric said and held up a bag of weed in his hand.

My blood boiled as I realized what he was doing, I was being set up! but I wasn't going down without a fight.

"What?! But I've never seen that before, did you find a lighter, a bong or anything I could use to smoke all that with?" I said, as a point of fact. Some of the guys turned to whisper with each other, they seemed split on the issue.

"It's not just me, I have witnesses who say they saw you bring this bag into your room, besides myself" Eric said, and smugly gestured towards another frat brother, a junior named Casey who was reputed to be one of Eric's rivals. He also pointed to another guy next to him, Henry who was another freshman, rather fresh-faced and right now he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else right now. I was starting to feel the same.

"Hold on Eric, first let's hear it from them personally before dealing out any punishments" James said, and gestured to the two guys to come forward. Eric seemed a little annoyed at James's interference but said nothing in response, letting the boys speak for him.

"Now, did you or did you not witness Sebastian smuggle this into his room?" James asked them both.

"We both did, he came home late one night after seeing that boytoy of his, me and Henry here saw him slip the bag inside his room, isn't that right, Henry?" Casey said.

I clenched my fist at the way he talked about Thomas, but instead I bore my eyes right into Henry's who could barely look back at me and flinched every time. He knew full well what he was supposed to say was a lie, I only hoped that his conscience was stronger than his fear of angering the frat president.

"y-....y-yes, we both saw him" Henry said, his eyes glued to the floor like he was a child being scolded by his parents.

"But...that's a lie! can't you see James? they're both up to something!" I yelled in my defense, my face red.

James looked at both of them for a few long moments, scrutinizing them and asked one final time if that was indeed what they saw and they both repeated their stories, word for word.

The vice president finally turned to me with a look of pity and sympathy, one that wished he could stop this but his hands were tied, and said "I'm sorry Sebastian, but in light of this...you need to be punished" he said and folded his arms in disgust.

"That's right James, and as Frat president it is up to me to determine what befits our brother's crimes" he said.

"Don't forget Eric, first punishments should be handed out lightly, don't do a repeat of last year or I swear I'll..."

"You'll what? Report me? I will count that as interference in the performance of my duties as president, and I'll be extending Sebastian's punishment to you if you do" He said, viciously.

"Fine Eric, have it your way, freshman clear out this is not something you'll want to see" James said, giving me one last look of sympathy and escorted the Freshman out. Some of the sophomores and juniors left too leaving just me, Eric, and a majority of the seniors.

"Alright Sebastian, as punishment for smuggling of banned substances your clothing privileges have been revoked for two weeks. Strip." Eric said.

My eyes widened and I couldn't help but laugh a little despite my rising anxiety.

"Excuse me? What the fuck do you mean 'clothing privileges'?" I said.

"You heard me Sebastian, when freshman are punished we take all of their clothes and force them to walk around the house naked except for when they leave, I won't say it again. Strip." he said, this time more forcefully.

I looked around the room and noticed that some of the seniors were circling me like vultures, Eric's little sycophants no doubt, ready to jump at his command if I disobeyed.

Realizing I was trapped, I reluctantly, and very slowly I grabbed the hem of my shirt and lifted it up over my head, exposing my bare torso to everyone. A few of the seniors grabbed my nipples and twisted them, I slapped their hands away and felt heat flush in my face.

"I didn't say stop, drop your pants. Now. Or we do it for you." Eric said, stepping closer to me threateningly, along with his cronies.

I held my hands up before lowering them down to the hem of my pants and started unzipping them and to my embarrassment and shock...I realized my cock was beginning to stir within my boxer briefs!

I didn't stop but I felt a sudden feeling of humiliation as these guys might just be about to see my fully erect penis...I tried to ignore it but as I lowered my pants down my legs and stepping out of them I was sporting a very prominent bulge which I was quick to cover up.

Unfortunately, Eric noticed.

"What you hiding there Seb? or what are you...*not* hiding?" He said, chuckling derisively, his cronies mimicking him. He stepped closer to me, and we were face to face, my own expression was defiant despite the redness and when he said:

"Drop the undies." He said.

"Come on Eric, please don't make me do this" I said and Eric was about to call his brothers into action when I stepped in and slowly, every so slowly I slid my last garment down my legs. I felt my cock springing to life and my fully erect cock slapped against my stomach and was already leaking!

I stood back up, fully naked as the seniors gathered up my clothes and I attempted to cover myself but Eric was having none of it. "No no, keep your arms at your sides" he said but this time I wasn't having it.

"What the hell Eric? I'm not showing you guys my dick" I said.

"Awww, he's shy, let's help him come out of his shell you guys, grab him!" he said and on command I had two guys pounce on me, grabbing my arms and forcing them away from my crotch, exposing my erect penis as each of them held my arms behind my back. My dick was 7.5 inches long fully hard, cut, and was a caramel shade of tan that matched the rest of my body.

"Wow, he's not so little after all, we might need to change that" Eric said and I whipped my head towards him on confusion.

Suddenly he slapped my hard dick, and I groaned as he did it again, and again, and again. Tears stung the back of my eyes as my dick throbbed with pain and yet somehow was still leaking precum.

"Ha, not so mighty now, are you?" Eric said.

"He's crying like a little baby!" One of the seniors said.

"We should shave him smooth, make him into a little bitch boi" another said.

"Quiet you two, no, I got a better idea in mind for him" he said and nodded to one of the other seniors nearby who ran off to get something.

"What are you going to do?" I whimpered and my face was flooded with embarrassment and humiliation as I stood there naked and exposed in front of practically half of the entire frat! and if they kept to these rules I'd be showing myself off naked to them for two weeks...

"Just completing your punishment dear Sebastian, don't worry your pretty boy head about it" Eric said, ruffling my hair.

The other senior came back with a small bag and and reached inside, my eyes widened in horror as I saw him produce a cock cage from it and hand it to Eric and renewed struggling against the guys holding me, my cock deflating to the point it swung between my legs as I did so.

"Eric, come on this is going too far now, stop this" I said.

"No dear Seb, I decide when we stop, now then, Taylor!, Pierce!, shave his crotch so the cage will fit better" he said.

I felt my anxiety increase a hundredfold, my heart beat thunderously in my chest as the two guys on either side of me let go and walked to the front of me and each of them took out small electric razors from their pockets and didn't waste any time in shaving my crotch, already I could feel my man hair being forcefully taken from me.

I started to realize just how much this was planned in advance, I hadn't stood a chance the minute I walked in here tonight. Now here I was, stripped of all my clothes, and was being shaved of all my pubes.

Their razors cut through my bush like a hot knife through butter, I looked down in abject horror as they kept moving my dick to reach around my crotch, the stimulation was getting me hard again.

I wasn't especially hairy, but it still took them a minute to shave my bare crotch completely smooth, all the guys proceeded to practically point and laugh which just made my balls shrivel up and my face flooded with shame and embarrassment.

"Where's your man-hair? wow, what a loser!"

"His cock looks like a kid's cock, not like a real man's"

"If he didn't have such a big dick, it WOULD be a kids cock!"

I heard guys shout from all over, and Eric picked up on that last one and said "Don't worry guys, time to shrink him down to size, this cock cage here is specially designed to absolutely restrict blood flow to your dick while allowing you to piss freely without getting it dirty."

"And just how long are you making me wear this thing?" I asked.

A bunch of the guys started shouting off random different lengths of time. Eric ignored them all until they quieted down and said "I think....a month ought to teach you to learn your lesson" he said.

"Eric...you can't do this!" I said in protest but no matter how much I struggled I couldn't stop him as I felt Eric grab my dick and begin to wrap the cage around my cock. I had gone soft again and before it had a chance to get hard, he fit the cage right onto my manhood and proceeded to lock it with a key that he wrapped around his neck.

I looked down and saw the cage was small, round and made of metal and like Eric said put pressure on the base of my shaft which prevented any sort of blood flow. My face flooded with red once more, as well as anger, but the guys finally let me go and I fell on the floor in surprise.

The guys all began filing out, some of them muttering 'loser' and 'bitch' under their breaths, and maybe they were right, Eric had won. Here I lay, my clothes and dignity stripped away from me, Eric gave me one last look of triumph before leaving me there, completely humiliated, and I was left to stew in my shame.

I slowly got up and tried to make it up to my room, as soon as I reached the 2nd floor I heard a voice behind me say "Seb, over here" and I turned to see James come out from behind a corner at the top of the stairs.

"Please James, I just want to go to bed before anyone else sees" I said and James gave me a flat look in response.

"Show me" he said.

I guess there was no point in trying to hide it, soon enough I would be the laughingstock of the entire frat, so I moved my hands away from my crotch.

"Wow, that son of a bitch really did it again" he said, chuckling angrily.

"Wait, what do you mean *again*?" I said.

"Eric did almost the same thing last year to a sophomore who embarrassed him, no one dared contradict his blatant manipulation of the house rules, but I couldn't do anything about it then, I thought as vice president I could...but its still the same now" James said, sadly.

"He is *not* getting away with this" I said, baring my teeth.

"I never said he would, but I realize I can't do it alone now, I'm going to need your help" he said, smiling slightly.

"Help with what?" I asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but somehow Eric needs to be dealt with, play along for now until I can come up with something more, stay low if you can, but...I'm sorry I couldn't do more" he said, before finally walking away.

I walked the rest of the way to my room in silence, I decided I needed to trust James, he seemed decent enough and right now anything seemed better than Eric. I opened the door and my faint glimmer of hope was gone as I found my room stripped bare of any clothing, my cock cage clinked as I took the first step inside and just sat on my bed.

I looked down and the humiliation returned as I felt my smooth crotch and poked at the cage, I only hoped Eric would be satisfied by this, I just had to make it through the next two weeks and I'd get my clothes back at least.

I opened my phone, which Eric's cronies had left behind along with my wallet, and saw my text chat bubble with Thomas and thought about calling him, telling him what happened but right now I just needed to sleep. But as fitful sleep came, finally, I swore to myself that Eric would regret the day he messed with me, and by the time I was done with him he'll be remembered as the president who lost his frat.

End of Chapter Six.

Author's Note: Uh oh! the tables have turned on Seb at last as he finds himself at the mercy of Eric and his cronies, find out what else is in store for poor Sebastian as he faces the two most humiliating weeks of his life.

Keep an eye on the current timeline I have setup which you can see on my recent Tumblr posts, and in the meantime please enjoy this latest installment, and have a great week!

[alwaysforevermaybenever]

WHATOBER 2, 2023: SLIPPER FLOATIN' DOWN A RIVER

× cw: just fluff dw 👌; written with fem and shorter than yanderes reader in mind but can also be gender neutral, petname (Angel)

× note: hello hello these are two new yanderes i am introducing without an introduction. they are a package deal a 2-in-1 bargain a buy one get one free sale. based on my actual childhood friends minus to romance

You watch your childhood best friends, Alister and Ethan, as they play in the small yet fast moving river in the middle of the forest. It’s a special for the three of you - your secret meeting spot that even the adults are unaware of. You watch by the river bank, sitting on a tree stump which Ethan laid his handkerchief on for you to sit on as a sort of cushion. The two teenage boys laugh as they splash around barefoot in the middle of the river, pants rolled up and faces and hands already wet. You quietly watch them, listening to their mindless chatter about what had happened in the past week or something.

Eventually, Ethan looks up, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Angel,” he calls, using their nickname for you. “Come and join us! It’s fuuuuun,” he draws out the vowel, hoping to somehow entice you into the water with his wiggling eyebrows and a smile that couldn’t hold any innocent intentions. This catches Alister’s attention, who looks up from a pebble he was inspecting, a teasing smile pulling at his lips.

“Nope,” you shake your head adamantly, staying rooted to your seat on the tree stump. “I don’t want to get my clothes wet. Besides, I don’t want to bathe again after this.” That’s one of the reasons, but the other is that you really, really don’t want to be a part of whatever plot they're concocting. Last time you got involved, the principal's hair was dyed hot pink for a month.

Alister doesn’t say anything, but he drops the pebble in favour of cupping his hands in the water, and you have a mild suspicion of what’s going to happen next. He merely smiles, not moving his body an inch. You watch him carefully, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Unfortunately, you didn’t keep an eye on the co-conspirators: Ethan.

Your penalty is a cold shower of water droplets, splattering against your side and face. Letting out a small scream in shock, you whip your head to glare at Ethan, who’s doubled over from laughing. This only serves as an opportunity for Alister to spatter you with water, causing your clothes to become damp on both sides. 

“Hey!” you complain, shading your eyes from the impromptu shower by your so-called friends. Honestly , the only thing boys like them are good for is opening bottle caps you can’t and reaching for stuff on high shelves out of your reach. “Stop that.” Both Ethan and Alister pay no heed to your words, continuing to flick water at you with their hands (they aren’t that mean as to completely drench you in water - only so much so that your clothes will dry within minutes).

Spotting two pairs of slippers, an idea pops into your mind - you know how to make them stop! Without a word, you pick one slipper. The boys must have an idea of what you plan to do, because they immediately cease all teasing. 

“Hey…” Ethan smiles nervously, hands outstretched as a safety precaution. “It was all just fun and games, you know?”

Alister looks even more uneasy, mostly because it’s his slipper you're holding. “C’mon, Angel. We won’t play anymore, okay?” He’s slowly inching towards dry ground, hoping to catch his slipper should you attempt to throw it without a second though.

You huff, and drop the slipper onto the ground and turn your heel, marching away from the forest river. You hear some splashing, and before you know it, their long legs easily catch up with your shorter ones. 

“We’re sorry, Angel,” Ethan pouts from your left, swinging his muscled arm around you, subtly rubbing your shoulder with his thumb.

“Won’t you forgive us?” continues Alister softly, gently taking your hand into his, cradling it like some sacred treasure.

You click your tongue. Life with them is like this on an hourly basis.

[lsvdw-blog]

Not a Minute More: Part 5

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings; Rating: Severe bodily injury, Mentions of blood, Angst; Mature, 18+

Premise: Everyone is in the fight to save lives and they finally find out what happened to Serena.

Author’s Note: This is very heavy - I apologize in advance 😭 Thank you to my girl @choiceskatie for pre-reading 😘 I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

~ Monday, 3:00pm ~

The explosion at Harvard labs reverberated throughout the campus and the surrounding suburb. The ER is swamped, an all hands on deck situation. Ambulance after ambulance arrives, wheeling in more patients before departing. Doctors and nurses are being pulled every which way, trying to help as many patients as promptly as possible. But they’re quickly becoming overwhelmed. Empty boxes of sterile gloves line the walls, medical equipment wrappers scatter the floor. They can barely hear each others’ shouts over the cries and less severe injuries are left unattended as the dire patients are intubated, defibrillated, or ushered off to an OR.

Ethan, Naveen, and Serena’s friends are on the ER floor, moving as quickly as they can, doing as much as they can, hoping their training and expertise is enough. But every time someone enters the hospital, they can’t help but pause for a beat and stare, hoping it’s her.

~ 4:00pm ~

Patients are referred to by their room number, blurring together. Everyone is exhausted, limbs heavy, grabbing yet another cup of coffee to keep going.

“Incoming!” A handful of nurses and doctors leave their stable patients and rush to the entrance, receiving the new bout of admittees.

“What’ve we got?”

“Two individuals, one male, one female, recovered just outside one of the classified Harvard labs. They’re unconscious, but stable. We didn’t see any obvious injuries, but that doesn’t rule out anything internal. The site of the explosion just cleared enough for us to work our way there,” one of the EMTs respond.

Ethan’s ears perk up at this new piece of information, but before he can corner the EMT, there’s another shout.

“We need an OR room stat!!!” Everyone turns towards the automatic doors at the familiar voice.

Rapidly pushing the side of a stretcher, is Rafael, his face ashen.*

Reclined on the stretcher, is Serena.

Ethan feels his world stop, the noise and hurried movements of the ER fading to black as his eyes trail over her. She’s covered in blood, drifting in and out of consciousness, and breathing through an oxygen mask. There’s several visible gashes on her head and body, but the most alarming thing is the large piece of metal protruding from the side of her abdomen.

She slowly turns her head towards him, as if she can sense his presence nearby.

As they lock eyes, he regains his senses, and rushes to her side.

While the paramedics continue to push the stretcher, he reaches for her hand and clutches it over his heart. "Baby, can you hear me?!"

She blinks groggily at him, acknowledging his words.

"H—," she swallows. "...Hurts," she manages to squeak out.

He nods continuously, his other hand reaching up to brush her blood-matted hair away from her face. "I know, baby, I know. Help is on the way. Until then, I need you to stay awake, okay?" He lifts her hand and kisses it. "Look at me, focus on me, and stay here with me," he urges. He relaxes a fraction of an inch when he feels her lightly squeeze his hand.

"Dr. Ramsey, I need you to step back!"

He shakes his head furiously. "I'm scrubbing in."

"The hell you are! We both know you can't be in there." Harper watches him closely. He's hunched over the stretcher, keeping pace, knuckles white from gripping Serena’s hand, eyes never leaving her face.

Harper sighs and her voice softens just a touch. "Let me do my job."**

He knows Harper is right, but Serena’s eyes are searching his and the thought of leaving her side makes him sick.

"E…"

"I'm here, I'm right here," he responds, tapping their entwined hands over his heart, hoping she can feel the heart that beats for her.

"I lo—," she lets out a breath and her eyes close.

"Rookie?" Her head lolls to the side.

"SERENA!!" He squeezes her hand multiple times, but her hand remains limp in his grasp.

As they push through the doors to the OR, her hand is ripped away from his. He reaches for her, but is stopped by Naveen and a few security guards he called for backup.

"LET ME THROUGH!! SERENA!!!" His voice cracks over her name. He continues to fight, leaving the security guards no choice but to drag him back towards the ER entrance.

Naveen stands in front of him. "ETHAN! You're not in the right state to be in the OR! Serena needs you to trust in Harper and her team. She needs you to be here when she wakes up! And you can't do that if I have to lock you down!"

Naveen takes in the man before him. Ethan's normally perfectly coiffed hair is in disarray, strands falling in his eyes. Cheeks flushed from the effort of screaming and battling the guards' hold. Hands and clothes covered in blood. Serena’s blood.

Naveen's heart plummets at the realization and it aches for the man he's come to consider a son.

Ethan stares down Naveen, chest heaving. After a few seconds, he gives a curt nod. Naveen waves his hand and the guards let go.

As soon as Ethan has range of motion, he walks to the nearest wall, and punches it. He walks away in a huff, leaving a room full of stunned individuals, and a gaping hole in the wall.

~ 8:45pm ~

Ethan sits with his head hung low in the waiting room, elbows resting on his bouncing knees, hands clenched together. Different people have come through, taking turns checking on him. He only mumbles or moves his head in response. The assortment of food and drinks brought to him remain untouched. He refuses to go home, sleep, or even change out of his bloodied clothes. Each time there's slight movement in the direction of the OR entry, he immediately turns towards it, only to be disappointed.

Naveen has been watching from afar, waiting to take his turn. He meanders over, silently taking a seat next to Ethan. He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his stomach. He sits calmly, patiently.

After ten minutes, Ethan lets out a shaky breath.

"She needed me," he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard.

Naveen remains quiet, waiting for Ethan to continue.

“She left me a voicemail… said she was scared, that she wanted to hear my voice. I’m supposed to be her protector, but I didn't even pick up the phone.” He buries his head in his hands.

Naveen leans forward, gently placing a hand on Ethan's shoulder.

"My boy. You couldn't possibly have known what was going to transpire today. You can't hold yourself responsible. Don't think I haven't seen the way you look at her, treat her. How you're always standing slightly behind her, a pillar of support during patient interactions, ready to step in if need be. How you consistently have a gentle hand on her, guiding her through the busy corridors. How you wait to leave together so she doesn't have to take the T,*** despite the fact that your shift ended hours earlier. You do protect her, every single day."

"But when she needed me most!” He shakes his head. “I wasn't there. I failed her. Miserably.” He runs his hands through his hair.

"She is everything to me, Naveen, everything. She's shown me what it means to be loved unconditionally, that vulnerability isn't a weakness. I no longer see the world in strictly black and white, or even in shades of grey. I see hues of red, purple, green, the whole damn rainbow, all because of her. She's made me a better mentor and doctor, a better son, a better man. I can’t even imagine where, or who, I’d be now without her. I wasted so much time running from my feelings, when committing to her has been the best decision I've ever made.”

He takes a steadying breath.

"She's the love of my life and now… not only may I never get the chance to tell her, but I also may never get to see our future together," his voice cracks and tears stream down his face.

He swivels his head slowly to face Naveen. "I can't lose her. I just can't."

Naveen nods solemnly. "I’m worried too; I don’t want to lose her either. One of the best surgeons in the country is leading her case. You know Harper and her team will do everything they can and we know Serena is one hell of a fighter. She has to be, to have gotten past your walls and to deal with you on a daily basis,” he teases.

It does the trick, as Ethan chuckles through his tears, nodding in agreement.

“She really is something, isn’t she?”

“She really is,” Naveen responds with a twinkle in his eyes. “And that’s another reason why I have faith. She's a warrior, having fought so long for you, for your relationship, and she knows you’re out here, waiting for her, waiting to be reunited and happy together. She wouldn’t give up now.”

Naveen locks eyes with his protégé.

“The two of you? The story is far from over. I know that in my soul.”

Ethan holds Naveen’s determined gaze, drawing strength from it, and sits up a little straighter.

“Thank you, Naveen. It means more than you know. And… I’ll take care of the hole in the wall,” Ethan grimaces.

“Don’t worry about it, my boy. I’m just relieved you didn’t do more damage,” he laughs. “And if we’re being completely honest, I’d be more shocked if you hadn’t punched a wall.”

Naveen gives Ethan a wink before he stands and walks back towards his office, leaving Ethan shaking his head in amusement, feeling a bit lighter and more hopeful.

~ Tuesday, 1:30am; 1 Day Since Attack ~

Ethan had finally dozed off, albeit uncomfortably, in a waiting room chair, when he felt a petite hand gently shaking him awake. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, coming face-to-face with Harper. He bolts up.

“Where is she? How is she?” Ethan’s eyes are frantic, searching Harper’s face for any sign of information.

She remains silent for a few beats.

“She’s currently being moved to the ICU.”

“She’s alive?”

Harper nods. “She’s alive.”

Before Ethan can breathe a sigh of relief, Harper continues.

“But Ethan… it was really bad. The piece of metal in her body was larger than we thought. It spanned from her kidney to her lungs. It was only two centimeters away from puncturing her heart. Additionally, it was so embedded within her body that every time she took a breath, it dug itself deeper. This isn’t even mentioning the bits of shrapnel she had in other places.”

She squares her shoulders, bracing herself for what she’s about to tell her friend.

“At one point during the surgery, she flatlined.”

Ethan gasps and his eyes widen.

“For a very short, and scary, moment, she was gone.”

Harper’s words hit Ethan like a semi-truck and he has to sit back down to try and calm his thundering heartbeat. Harper crouches down in front of him, eyes softening.

“But we were able to bring her back and I strongly believe that the brief lack of oxygen will not have any lasting effects.”

“However, she has been through a lot in the past twelve hours,” she gently places her hand on his shoulder. “She’s still in a coma and we cannot say for certain if she’ll wake back up.”

Ethan tightly shuts his eyes and balls his hands into fists.

“I assure you, Ethan, that we did everything we could. But now, it’s up to her, and her body, to decide if she wants to rejoin us.”

A tear slips down Ethan’s face.

“Can I see her?” His words come out soft, broken.

“No visitors until she makes it through the night. But, you can see her through the window.”

Ethan is unmoving, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

Harper stands. “Come on,” she tilts her head slightly. “Let’s take a walk.”

Ethan follows suit and they make their way through the waiting room, side by side.

~ 2:00 am ~

Before Ethan knows it, they’re in the ICU, Harper having coyly led him in that direction. She comes to a stop in front of a room.

“This is her. If you need anything at all, you know where to find me.”

Ethan stops her as she begins to turn away, looking at her earnestly.

“Thank you for saving her, Harper. It means…,” he sighs. “Everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she responds, eyes fixed on Serena through the window.

Ethan gives a weak nod.

“She’s a stubborn one. I have a feeling she isn’t done with us yet.”

She turns and walks down the hall a ways, before glancing back. Ethan has one hand on the glass, watching Serena wistfully. She hopes that doing everything she could was enough.

~~~~~~

Disclaimers:

*I kept Rafael as an EMT because I wanted to include as much of the crew as possible and having a friend wheel Serena in adds to the angst deliciousness.

**I know Harper is a neurosurgeon, but I wanted to include her badass self and a bit of her platonic friendship with Ethan. So slight Harper AU!

***The “T” is what the locals in Boston call the subway.

[jerzwriter]

Is there something Ethan&Kaycee/Tobias&Casey struggled with about each other when they moved in together? Like a habit one of them had that used to drive the other crazy.

Thanks for the question, Nonny!

I know Ethan was mortified about some of Kaycee's eating habits. She doesn't cook, and she really didn't have the healthiest of diets. He encouraged her to eat better, and it kind of worked. Especially since he was willing to do the cooking, but it also had a downside. He rediscovered that he actually LIKED Fruity Pebbles!

For Kaycee, it was Ethan's over-the-top neatness. Don't misunderstand, she was very neat too. But if she put the salt and pepper shakers back 2 inches from the edge of the cabinet, and he liked them 1 inch from the edge, he'd get up to move them. Sometimes it drove her mad. He learned to ease up a tiny bit, but he eased up A LOT after Emma was born. With a newborn in the house, there is no time for such perfection.

Casey moving in with Tobias went much smoother than anyone expected. He was so used to living on his own and so set in his ways that many worried - no matter how much he loved her. But things went extremely well, except for Casey forgetting to remove her hair from the shower drain. She'd do it, but not necessarily right away. And if he got in the shower next, it drove him nuts. She honestly just forgot, but in time, she remembered and would do it right away. Unless she was annoyed at him. lol

For Casey, it was Tobias leaving the clothes in the dryer. He lived alone for so long and didn't see the need. Some days, he'd just grab what he needed out of there until it was empty. It was OOC for him because he was a bit of a neat nick, but it was his thing. Casey didn't care for that thing. They solved it by her taking over the laundry and assigning him different chores in its place.

[bleulone]

i love your analysis so much! i have a question as well, like, how do you envision polin's sex scenes ? thanks for your answer (:

    Hey! Thank you very much :)) I have no idea if they are that even good but I’m happy you like them. It’s just my brain tending to produce some iNsIGhiTfUL analyses though they usually end up drowned under a huge wave of stupidity and horrid spelling/grammatical mistakes XD. So, about Penelope and Colin’ sex scenes, I guess we’re getting spicy in this house 🌶. I mean, I don’t blame you. Who’s not hot for Polin ?! The steamy Polin hours have already begun and they’re legit challenging my patience. (Be still my Polin heart, be still).

   Okay, without further ado, let’s talk about sex baby, shall we ? It’s a pretty long answer/meta so bear with me.

    I don’t know if you’ve read Romancing Mister Bridgerton, but a quick reminder (for those who haven’t... yet), there are a bunch of iconic steamy scenes that I’m dying to watch on screen. First we have the famous “thank you” scene where Penelope, now a 28 year-old spinster, asks Colin to kiss her because she doesn’t want to die without having been kissed... then ends up thanking him— which happens to be humiliating for our 33 year-old boy because he thinks that she thinks he did it out of pity while he absolutely did not. The man definitely felt butterflies in his stomach... and in other places as well lol. We also have the ICONIC carriage scene where Colin gives Pen’s generous bosoms™ the attention they deserve. This is followed by his proposal. Later on, after the announcement of their engagement, there’s a pretty hot make-out scene on Lady Violet’s sofa. Finally, we have their first time in Colin’s bedroom, after sneaking out of their own engagement party... which leads Colin to push the wedding date forward. At this point, I just love their horniness, especially Colin’s who’s just so freaking amazed by Penelope for more than 300 pages straight (duh! who isn’t ???).

    When you say envision, I suppose you mainly refer to the way those scenes will be filmed right ? I’m afraid I don’t have an advanced knowledge in film-making but let me start by telling you what elements need to be depicted. I would love Shonda and Chris to capture the real essence of our boos’ feelings : the yearning, the love, the respect and the guilt (specifically on Colin’s side) in their eyes. The more we move forward throughout the seasons, the more we see different layers of the perceptions of they have of each other, going from a childish idealization/immature ignorance to a sudden realization. A mature one. Penelope goes beyond the facade of the charming devil-may-care guy to meet the seriousness and temper of her significant other. Meanwhile Colin discovers how confident, powerful and attractive this woman is and always has been. It echoes what I’ve written about the importance of the gaze in Polin’s love story in this meta. By the time season 4 hits, man... their heart eyes and eye-fucking will jump OUT XD, all fibers of their beings, burning with need. The fact that this evolution took literally years is very emotionally painful, which is why I find it important to keep the slowness aspect of their relationship before and during their love making. I’m really looking forward a slow build-up toward their intimacy. It would differ from Daphne and Simon who merely shared one hell of a kiss in Lady Trowbridge’s garden then shared their sexy times after they married or Anthony and Siena’s rough sex... In fact, there’s a certain (sweet) ardent tenderness in Polin I like due to the fact that they’re slowly (re)discovering each other, as adults. Since they were both introduced in season 1, the audience will have all the time in the world to notice numerous evidences of the many natures of love they have for one another : from an affectionate and friendly love to a more carnal and enduring one.

    Okay so, in terms of filming, with Netflix’s Bridgerton being a show which promotes the female gaze, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise watching those sex scenes being shot from Penelope’s perspective, like it was the case with Daphne in the first installment of the series. Most of the time, sex scenes in Historical Romance are not gratuitous. Their presence serve an important purpose in a hero/heroine’s journey. In Penelope’s case, they’re here to help her learn to embrace and love herself. In other words, sexuality is synonym of freedom. I don’t know if they’ll show a lot of skin, but I won’t be complaining considering the fact that we’ll have the chance to get a chief kiss treat on screen : a plus size woman in a major successful Netflix period drama getting a love story as romantic and steamy as other more “fit” female characters. No, your weight doesn’t prevent you from being desirable at all. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t watched a plus-size female character portrayed as an attractive protagonist in a period drama (please if you have, let me know, I can be wrong). Having a beautiful half bare curvy body like Nicola’s being equally filmed like numerous slim actresses will be so inspiring and powerful to watch, especially for (young) women who struggle, like Penelope, to love their body shape which, to them, doesn’t “fit” the “beauty standards”. By showing her female gaze and portraying her as seductive, Pen’s “supposed” imperfections transform themselves into mighty assets, loved and worshipped by our dashing Mister Bridgerton. That’s body positivity at its finest darling ;).

    It will be deliciously erotic watching the undressing process being exquisitely slow, garment by garment, while their gaze are all heated and hungry. Their sex/make-out scenes should be tender and passionate, sweet and raw. The lightning, colored by a dark blood orange yellow or a blue depending the locations^^. Moreover, the depiction of the exploration of Penelope’s desire can translate itself thanks to multiple close ups. For instance, I can imagine a few ones on Pen’s fingers gently roaming over the smooth skin of Colin’s firm chest and back/touching his hair right after he removed his shirt. And a disheveled Colin letting his hands and lips making a journey of their own, mapping, conquering the alluring unknown territory that is her gorgeous voluptuous body... kissing her on the places he knows oh too well will give her pleasure (is this me wanting him to go down on her?— um yeah I sure hope it IS! If he doesn’t, trust me imma riot... AGAIN). Even a close up on her face while Colin is performing his addictively pleasing torment will be a marvelous proof of the female gaze. By the way, why not even adding a post-coital scene after their first time ? I can picture Penelope waking up first and contemplate her handsome soon-to-be husband. She’d bring her hand to his face and let it travel all around his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, his neck and let it rest on his heart— making sure that what she’s just experience was real... obviously, Colin will wake up in the process and he’ll take this as his cue to go for another round of sexy times under the sheets.

   Showing Pen reaction is essential according to me because she was stuck with the idea that she would never experience the luxury of being loved, giving pleasure nor receiving it... she ended up being happily wrong. Throughout her multiple intimate encounters with Colin, I want her to progressively realizes that she can be an active partner. In the carriage, she knew she had an effect on him, but it’s not until their first time that she actually realizes it. Hence the reason why I WANT the mirror’s introduction in one of their sex scenes. Here’s as a little reminder an excerpt from chapter 18 :

“I want to see you sitting up," he groaned, "so I can see them full and lovely and large [about Pen’s breasts]. And then I want to crawl behind you and cup you." His lips found her ear and his voice dropped to a whisper. "And I want to do it in front of a mirror."

“Now?” she squeaked.

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. "Later," he said, and then repeated it in a rather resolute tone. "Later.”

   It would be such a shame if the show doesn’t use the incredible potential of this object (/kink). I mean, the symbolism is pretty clear. Penelope has always fled her “ugly” reflection but it seems like Colin wants to show the real her, the beauty that holds every single inch her alabaster skin and the effects they have on him. Thus, I would love to watch a scene where Colin just praises the alluring goddess and siren that is Penelope Featherington. Just imagine! Just IMAGINE the power of this scene : a shirtless Colin sitting behind her on a bed, meeting her gaze in the mirror, his lips touching her right ear, biting and licking the lobe sometimes, whispering all kinda of dirty yet poetic words to her while letting his hands caress her thighs, her hips, her arms, her lovely bosoms™... oof. At the same time, a wonderful and harmonic instrumental music will play in the background and match the melodic partition of shudders, breathes and moans let out by our lovers. I can imagine Luke inspiring himself from his performance in the 2019 short film, Youth In Bed. The way he conveyed the awe and the yearning on his face, in his eyes with his mouth slightly open when he knelt before his partner Shun Yin was just captivating and— and so Colin! I cannot help but bring myself to picture Ethan, the character he played in YIB, in a Polin steamy scene. I cannot unsee this anymore jsksk. I mean, all this gifset radiates this book4chapter18!Colin, you cannot tell me otherwise!

    Also, I would love Shonda and Chris to keep Pen and Colin’s cute/emotional pillow talk. One thing I really love in JQ’s books is the concern she gives to her male protagonists about potentially hurting their partner during the act of penetration. Colin is a rake, and what his experience with women taught him is that he needs to be very gentle with the love of his life. It was so adorable seeing him not wanting to harm her and asking her to tell him if he does anything she doesn’t like 🥺. Plus, before actually doing it, Colin and Penelope shared a few kisses and just laid down side by side, confessing their love. Though our boy kept feeling guilty about not returning her love after all these years. He desires nothing but to make up for the lost time and show his love and desire during this special intimate moment. I hope they’ll keep all of chapter 18’s dialogue. It’s just so telling of our boos’ feelings, you see.

    All in all, I can’t wait to watch those Polin steamy scenes. As much as I may sound crazy, I want them after two other seasons of pure pining and yearning in order to have a very good payoff. I’m not an expert on depicting intimacy on screen, but I loved so far what Lizzy Talbot, the intimacy coordinator who worked on the show, have done in season 1. Sex scenes in Bridgerton seem very real and dive you in the intimacy of the moment, leaving you all flustered and hot. So probs to her! I have faith in her work and have no doubts about what her and the directors will serve us in future seasons. Though, in the end, I think it’s mostly up to the actors, Nicola and Luke, to see if they’re comfortable filming sex scenes.

    If you guys have any suggestions or wishes for those steamy polin scenes, please do share them :) by commenting on this post or by sending me asks! I’d love reading your thoughts/take on this very important matter ;)) 

[soft-pink-wilfy]

Hello again! In the other ask I mentioned that I would probably be doing fanart for your fic, and that's what I'm trying to work on now! However, I have a slightly odd question, that I figured I'd go straight to the author for. I'm trying to figure out how to draw Ethan/ different outfits that he ends up stealing from Karl. So I was wondering if you had any ideas/if there was a described answer within your fic? (aside from the Punk Karl outfit, which I also absolutely intend to draw!)

You know what? This question isn't odd, because I've been pondering over it too. And here's my answer, in list form detailing Karl's wardrobe:

a myriad of band tshirts (mostly '80s-'00s metal and hard rock. things like Tool, Metallica, Iron Maiden, Rage Against The Machine, Chevelle, Nine Inch Nails, Shinedown, Finger Eleven, etc) he got the Duke to smuggle into the village

a bunch of miscellaneous graphic t-shirts, most of them the type of vulgar shirts you'd see at Spencer's (like the one with "GO FUCK YOURSELF" written on it in cursive script and surrounded by hibiscus flowers)

multiple sweaters Karl never wears

multiple polo shirts he also never wears

a bunch of regular button-down shirts

some plaid flannel button-down shirts

several of the previous two types of button-downs, but with the sleeves ripped off

several solid color V-neck tshirts

a bunch of a-shirts/tank tops that can either be used as undershirts but often just get worn on their own

too many pairs of fancy shoes like Vans, Converse, and Doc Martins. he rarely wears them

like twelve pairs of Crocs, and they're all awful

four pairs of identical combat boots

three denim jackets of various fanciness

two leather biker jackets

The Punk Queer Battle Jacket™

one denim vest with his house crest spray-painted on the back

some bandanas to help hold his hair back sometimes when he really doesn't need his hair in his face while he's working

ten pairs of identical cargo shorts

three pairs of brown dress slacks that aren't exactly dressy anymore because they've got grease stains all over them and holes in the knees

too many pairs of jeans in too many different colors, fits, and types of wash/pattern

seven pairs of sweatpants, and none of them are the same

three blue mechanic's jumpsuits

One (1) pair of jorts

also sometimes Ethan steals Karl's tan trenchcoat

[stygianflood]

Like the Shoreline and the Sea (Ethan x F!MC)

Summary- Ethan is asked out on a date right after Miami in Book 1. Ethan’s PoV

Genre, rating, words- Angst, teen, 2k

Open Heart fanfic tropes- birthday, office.

March Challenge Day 13 prompt Someday; April Challenge Day 9 prompt Smell of the Rain 

A/N: nor’westers-  violent thunderstorms in northern plains of India, before the onslaught of monsoon.

Title inspired by Leonard Cohen’s Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye.

‘This will improve our understanding of adiposity and sarcopenia in this population, help identify thresholds predictive of metabolic risk, and ultimately prevent or ameliorate… ’

Better prevent than ameliorate.

‘...ameliorate the long-term impacts on health and…’ 

Twenty five years should be long enough.

Hers is a singsong voice, the warm, trilling kind. Mellow sun dances on the frills of her dress. The yellow one. 

The man at her side twirls her on the empty kerb. Dips and kisses her. Her laughter is all that is pure and golden.

A child follows them, embarrassed. She bends down to kiss him, and he is furious. 

The scene shifts.

The child is on the front porch, eyes set somewhere beyond the wild bergamot bushes. 

Tear tracks on pink cheeks mingle and dry with dust from his afternoon’s exploits. Something like a steely resolve troops in his eyes.

Ethan Ramsey has been staring at the same sentence for fifteen minutes now.

Whoever coined the term ‘nostalgia’ from the Homeric nostos and algos was speaking of anguish caused by an inability to return. But they failed to discern the inevitable tethering of reminiscence with habituality.

That is more or less the case with him. Louise Ramsey walked out on her husband, and eleven year old son some twenty five years ago right before his birthday. For a very long time now, home is not about apple crisps or kitchen gardens. 

About this time every year, a crevice in his mind he likes to call the amygdala dwells on the same days. 

Almost as a ritual. 

He is a scientist. A rationalist. And like every year, he reminds himself there is work to do.

Unless there’s a knock at the most unpleasant hour.

He never returns to the article. Never manages a come in. The distraction walks in, messy hair knotted with a pencil. Probably because she has lost another hair tie. 

He mustn’t be that aware. 

But she talks too much. 

‘Dr. Mukherjee.’ He sounds gruff. They’re supposed to be redrawing their boundaries, even if he is the only one making an effort. ‘I thought your shift ended-’

‘Two hours ago.’ Rigours of a sixteen hour shift mark her visage. Her smile is a little too conniving for his comfort. ‘I had work afterwards.’ 

She starts shuffling papers on his desk, permission be damned. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and manages an exasperated sigh. Since when have interns started walking into his office with… birthday cakes?

‘What do you think you’re- It’s not my-’

‘I heard rumours that Dr. Ramsey had to cancel a date.’ She sounds amused. He does not miss the split second glance she shoots his way before continuing. ‘On his birthday, too. Such a shame.’

He scoffs.

‘No one knows it’s my birthday.’

‘Oh, they do. They’re just too afraid to… ah, invoke the wrath of Dr. Ramsey.’

Of course, she is not one of them. She has absolutely no regard for the immutable drill he has observed for nearly four decades. And why must she, when her sole intent is to swivel the rusty axis of his life.

Ethan has never known the first shower of an Indian monsoon. It is sudden and torrential, just as it is feared and revered. It smells like summer, and mango blossoms. 

Ethan has never known one until this year.

‘I’m thirty seven, Rookie,’ He manages weakly. 

‘And I would’ve bought the candles accordingly if I knew that.’ 

The tealights she arranges look so much better, he thinks. The cake is a simple blue and white affair. Not the ones that have more icing than cake, he notes. Not the ones he disapproves of.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Terminator

‘I could’ve whipped something up without sugar,’ She rambles, suddenly starting to blush. ‘Or ordered one. But I only just came to know it’s your birthday. And there wasn’t a lot of-

‘Thank you, Apu.’ Tresses of warmth curl about his chest and the gravel of his voice.

Ethan has avoided birthday cakes for a decade now. Unless it’s Naveen’s birthday, he thinks with a pang.

In his time with Harper or his brief involvements in med-school, no one has ever convinced him to do birthdays. He checks himself. This is just an intern being kind.

But interns aren't kind to Dr. Ramsey, are they. 

She assures him the photos are not for social media. They settle on the couch, it’s his first birthday cake in over a decade. 

He is glad for an innocuous reason to look at her, laugh at jokes that in any other company would draw his scorn. She is oddly comforting. Unlike most interns who avoid his office at all costs, she moves about it as if she was meant to be here all along. 

He must have stalled birthdays worth twenty years only to spend it on a couch with her. 

The plates are disposable. It is nothing like the restaurants that come with his status, for there is an endearing simplicity about it. 

It almost feels like… home.

He steals occasional glances at her. It has been four agonisingly long days after their return from Miami. And for all his attempts to redraw their boundaries, it has been a non-return of sorts. 

Aparna drives him to distraction, flouts each and every one of his rules. Seeks him out in supply closets and muddled dreams. And every time he breaks her heart a little more, he finds himself floundering in his own squalor.

The German counterpart to the English ‘nostalgia’ is ‘sehnsucht’. Like ‘nostalgia’, it has the charm of what has been. But unlike it, it also has the enigma of what has never been. Miami will remain the swansong to an ideal that slipped through Ethan’s fingers. 

A surge of anguish ripples through him as he realises all of this is his for the asking, and he will have none of it. 

‘It wasn’t a date,’ He blurts out.

He wouldn’t tell her that if he wants her to move on. Not truly.

‘You don’t have to-’

‘She is Declan’s associate in Panacea. She suggested signing the contract with the Diagnostics Team over dinner tonight. So…  just business.’

Claudette Wilson is the most promising young face of Panacea, and Ethan needed less than a minute to know why. 

Sleek, dark hair styled at her nape played up her high cheekbones. The ruby of her pliant lips, almost risqué for a meeting such as this, always lingered a little longer on the rim of her coffee mug. Even the measured spoons of her laughter came with an all too enticing lilt.

Ethan has met the other type. Vacuous and synthetic. But the steely glint in her eyes came with a weighty intelligence. An unfaltering wit. And when a perfectly manicured hand brushed the contours of his cuff, he knew it was never meant to be just business. 

She was irresistible. And so was he.

That afternoon, the bitterness in his mouth had nothing to do with coffee. He learnt he would refuse Claudette even if her pay checks did not come from Panacea.

Aparna falls silent, almost as if discerning in his words everything he left unsaid.

They have run out of jokes and topics for a harmless chat. He is getting terribly comfortable with her again, he realises alarmed. And she is fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

She’s nervous too. He knows. He could define every twitch and turn of those fingers. 

Somewhere in their conversation they have edged so close that her knee juts into his thigh. The couch is surprisingly small for two people. Minutes pass, and despite himself, he does not want her to leave. 

His fingers rest on her flustered hands, it’s a deep-rooted reflex. Looking down, she weaves his hand in both of her own. Even as the adrenaline surging in his blood incites him to flee, the delirious part of him emerges stronger and more naive.

He thinks she is leaning in. Soaking up the mayhem in his eyes. The slight movement causes wisps of errant hair to slip from the messy bun. There’s new growth around her brows, a faded scar on her forehead. But it’s her eyes that still hold sway over him. 

They stroked him with a strange, silent awe on a balcony on the shores of the Atlantic.

She is nothing like interns that hover around him year after year. Sucking up for recommendations. Sometimes more. She can devour him, and just as easily cast him aside without batting an eye. 

And yet she is here. Snuggled in his office while her friends call it a night with cheap beer and rowdy escapades. 

But she is different tonight. The quiver in her eyes tentative, even wary.

His hand rises of its own accord, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. Inadvertently, it brushes her face, lingers a little longer against her cheek.

She caressed his face as the ocean crashed around him. It was like falling from the top of a precipice. Tumbling into the amorphous, a terrifying weightlessness. He waited.

‘It’s getting late.’

She smells like the hospital, muted shades of honeysuckle, and like herself. 

The cool breeze hummed a steady rhyme against the tumble of her midnight blue dress. Bits of the moon bounced off the dark curtain of her hair, plunging into her eyes. Ethan had never seen such fathomless eyes.

‘I should go.’ She leans into his palm, eyes fluttering close. 

‘You should.’ 

And then she caught him. It was the hollow of her neck. It was soft. Like the rest of her. 

Neither of them move today, silently imploring the other to charge. Or retreat. The battle drum in his chest is a dull ache. Throbbing and inconsolable.

The ridges of her collarbone bore traces of his ruin. Traces she covered every morning and stripped every night, like the rites of a godless liturgy.

His free hand is still laced in hers, the other drawing her face nearer. 

Her lips are inches from his own as he draws a languid finger across them. Her warm breath spills on his lips, warring and mingling with his own ragged ones. 

Her mouth was stained with wine. Numbing and inciting. He was battered, and bruised. Marooned at her side. And she was warm. So warm.

His hand traced the pummelling of her heart, kneading the softness of her chest. Her tongue jousted with his own as the ocean lapped at its shore. Tireless and persevering.

She was wild. Like her Gangetic nor’westers on a sultry afternoon. He was bewitched. She was doing something good to him.

Suddenly the air around them is ripped by the sound of his phone. 

It’s his father.

The two of them recoil to their own spaces, Ethan horrified that he let himself stray so far yet again. Silencing the still erring device, he faces Aparna bracing for another apology.

‘I know.’ 

Her smile is placid, all traces of vulnerability gone. He is vaguely aware of the gentle pressure on the hand still clasped in her own.

‘Happy Birthday, Ethan. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ 

She is gone before he can marshal his thoughts.

Ethan flops back into the couch, shivering and alone. The incandescent glow from the solitary lamp drenches the office in a soft, ethereal haze. She might not have been here at all but for the little things she scatters around him every time she forays into his life.

Today she leaves with him a caesura. It thwarts the cadence of a life he has been putting together since Miami.

After a minute, or perhaps a staggering nightmare, when he rises to pack the rest of the cake, he sees it. 

She must have forgotten her hair tie was in her pocket after all. 

It stares up at him from the floor, the silken, mute witness of his transgression. He gingerly picks it up, and turns it in his hand as though it houses some ancient sorcery. 

Laying it on his desk, he considers texting her. But scarcely does he scroll down to her name when he stops himself. And pockets it. 

Somewhere in the Atlantic, waves still crash upon the rocks, moistening, but never quite lingering. 

The waves are relentless. Someday, the rocks crumble into fine sand.

Thank you for reading this! Let me know if you’d want to be added or removed.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Who is in Control? - Part 2

A/N: Unedited smut because ya girl is ALWAYS thirsty for Henry Cavill. 🔥🔥🔥 Catch up on Part 1 HERE!  Masterlist

August Walker x Reader 

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 2570k

Warnings: dirty filthy CONSENSUAL smut, language (Just don’t scroll past the cut if you don’t want to read smut)

******************************************

“FUCK!” Ethan slammed his hands abruptly on the table. “Damnit, we missed him. He’s gone.”

“We’ve searched nearly every smelly crevice London has to offer. We were so damn close!”

“Lane’s gotta be with him. If we hurry, we can still sniff out his tracks.”

Ethan eyed Y/N suspiciously; “Think Y/N. Where would he go next?”

Y/N scanned through every memory she could muster. Her frontal lobe throbbed as she rubbed the spot aggressively.

“Hazlitt’s! That’s where we’d go.”

“You sure?”

“I know it. 100%”

“Why there?”

“I’d read to him when we were in bed together. Hazlitt’s is a hotel. He surprised me when he actually listened one night. I was reading an autobiography about essayist William Hazlitt. He was the one to find out William had died there. My morbid curiosity found his gesture macabre yet sweet. It was his way of showing he’d cared without saying anything at all. And before you say anything ridiculing, don’t.”

“Shit, what the hell did you do to him? No wonder he’s on a damn rampage.”

Dryly chuckling, Y/N didn’t quite know how to follow up, fumbling over her fucked up feelings once again.

“It was our place where we could just be ourselves. Away from the world and constant bloodshed. No alterative motives, no plan of action, just us. If he’s as heartbroken as he’s letting on, I bet that’s where we’ll find him. Besides, who doesn’t enjoy a trip down memory lane, hm?”

“I underestimated you, Y/N. Fucking the information out of him AND tricking him into thinking it was love. You’re a fucking genius.”

She coldly glared at him, her mind already two steps ahead of Hunt pissing him off to no end.

“Seriously. When did it stop being a mission?”

“The SAC told me to keep an eye on him, make sure he stayed in line under a watchful eye. They teamed us together as an experiment. I can’t pinpoint when, it just happened Ethan. I mean we’ve worked side by side in the field for three years! THREE YEARS.”

“He’s scared of you. You’re his one weak link.”

She mulled his comment over. It was a truth she wasn’t quite ready to admit. Yes, she wanted to make him hurt but killing him was an entirely different story. She prayed her strength was hiding, just waiting to surface when called upon.

“Clock’s running. Let’s go.”

So, Y/N followed him through a skinny corridor alley getting to the car at an inhumanely speed.

----------

Ethan and Y/N surveyed the perimeter looking for an obtainable entrance point. The dumbfounded clerk had confirmed a Mr. Patrick Bateman checking in. Taking after his favorite character, Y/N knew what room they’d find him in. His impeccable taste for detail consistently blew her away. Room 916. No doubt in her mind. The day they met, or as he likes to better describe; the first time he ever felt noticed.

“Let me go in first. Try and reason with him.”

Irritation came off him in waves crashing nonverbally disagreeing with Y/N.

“Too dangerous. This isn’t negotiable.”

Undermining his own words Y/N spoke; “I’m not asking for permission, I’m telling.”  

Just then, the door swung open, Y/N sauntered towards a seeable back exit adjacent from Hunt’s point of sight. Walls bare of color and life lined the narrow hallway. The dimness bordered into eerie. An unknown sound skyrocketed her frenzied nerves. 913…914…915…

The garish gold numbers stood conspicuously still. Invisible weights kept her place. A knock resonated off the white dilapidated door.

Nothing. No response, not a sense of movement. Can’t fool me that easily Walker.

“I know you’re there—watching me through that stupid peephole wondering what in the literal hell I’m doing here.”

A chain clanged loose as the door astutely opened. Never had she met a man as devilishly handsome before. Towering over her 5ft7 frame, he smirked.

“Don’t give me that look. We need to talk.”

August didn’t flinch a muscle remaining inaudible. All of a sudden enigmatic emptiness consumed her.

“By all means, please come in.”

Good to see his charm and charisma hadn’t yet abandoned him.

“We both know you didn’t come alone. How long I do we have?”

“15 minutes, maybe 20 if you’re lucky. And I dare say luck isn’t on your side today. Why did you leave?”

“Getting straight to the point then my love?”

“Don’t give me that shit, Walker. I’m seriously not in the mood.”

The air conditioner hummed in the background forcing goosebumps to prickle her skin. An unexplainable chill drifted around them; a veiled noose of destruction lingering just out of sight. Y/N walked towards the window gazing up at the luminated stars. 

She’d always been fond of constellations and their profound mark on the universe. Heavy footsteps followed making their way to her. His breathe tickled along her collarbone standing mere inches away. His hands reached for hers interlacing their fingers placing a wet kiss to the exposed column of her neck.

“How far are you prepared to go?”

Her neck slanted at him in childish annoyance.

Y/N snorted; “I will go further than you. However, many weapons you’re willing to bring, I’ll bring more. However low you will go; you will never dig deeper than me. I will win, because what this will cost me in pain, I will pay. My resources are limitless, I will always outbid you, and I will never, ever back down. Am I clear?”

The seriousness in her tone amused him giggling quietly. His rebuttal was quick and brash.

“You must seriously hate the person underneath that attractive flesh of yours.”

“Already to the petty part of the evening? Always a sour puss, Auggie.”

Closing the space between them, August pinned his upper body to Y/N’s back. Her head landed powerfully on his shoulder; his fingers brushed her pulse point teasingly.

“Neither of us are getting out alive darling. Have you paid your penance? Shall we be rejoined in the afterlife or reign in hell? I do wonder.”

Ignoring him Y/N pressed further; “Where’s the plutonium? Death is but a ploy of distraction.”

“Clever girl. Reverse psychology won’t work on me, Y/N. Try again.”

His right hand wrapped entirely around her delicate neck into a light chokehold securing her in place.  

A hushed rough voice similar to a forgotten whisper slipped through; “You’re the one who has to live with your choice. Everyone else will get over it, move on, no matter what you decide. But you never will.”

His left hand stroked the button of her jeans undoing them in record time. The zipper was the next offensive item to go before he shoved her pants around her wobbly knees. Paralyzed in fear, Y/N didn’t risk moving a single muscle.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Here, now, pressed against this chilled glass, exposed for the whole world? I’ll gamble just one glance from a stranger down below will get your rocks off.”

His next words terrified her; “Only I can make you feel this alive. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She fought the searing intrusion growing between her thighs. He spoke directly to her reflection like he was talking to a ghost.

A concoction of pants and grunts were the only distinguishable noise escaping Y/N. August’s hand slithered underneath her blouse groping her covered breasts. Still she didn’t move to stop him. She was putty in his glorious hands ready to be molded into whatever he needed or craved. immersed terror sent a jolt of unexplainable excitement to her core. 

Y/N cowered ashamed of her body’s biological reaction. But something in her brain told her to let him see the demon hiding in plain sight. Suddenly, Y/N reached back fisting the hair along his neck and pulled, hard.

Her behavior shifted on the cusp of absurdity. The ruthless killer long submerged had finally met her match, someone just as vile as she believed herself to be.

“You’re not the only cold-blooded asshole in the world. Hate to burst your villainous bubble.”

“I know, my darling. I’ve waited so patiently to see you in this darkened light of misery. After this, you won’t be able to go back to work without seeing every speckle of shit sprinkled before your eyes. CIA, FBI, MI6, they’re over and you my dear play a dear role in their long-awaited demise. Once you cross this line, which you undoubtfully will, Agent Y/N is dead.”

August swept her hair to one side nipping a trail along her collarbone. Her blood pressure steadied showing him she was calm, in control, and spontaneously impulsive.

Gauging his reaction, Y/N leaned into August; “I know. You’re my Hades and I’m the beloved Persephone. We’re written in destiny, baby. You and me.”

Her voice expressed a detached, cunning, and malevolent mischief. Her words made his skin crawl and cock harden. She was truly magnificent.  

“Did you know that I’ve dreamt of your blood spilling while I fucked you raw? Holding a silver tipped blade on that very neck of yours, watching the fear grow as I rode you like a wild stallion. There’s no more denying the predatory urges I desire with you, for you....to you. We could have the world at our finger tips, Auggie. Quite frankly, you don’t scare me a bit and it pisses you off.”

August bit down sinking his teeth into her peachy flesh leaving a crimson imprint in his wake. Y/N yelped; her underwear flooded with moisture. Her feet wobbled closer to the glass as August shoved her forward. With her breasts pressed against the window, she heard the fasten of his zipper undo. Her nipples hardened in response. August’s dick pressed vigorously into her ass cheeks hitting every spot but the one she wanted. A feral growl betrayed her as she pushed back in resistance.

“Mmhm, who’s the horny one now?”  

“I’ve grown familiar with villains that live in my bed…”

The lace grazing her hips snapped painfully watching her panties fall to the floor.

“Ouch! Easy asshole.”

“Vile words from such a pretty mouth. Obviously, there’s lessons to still be achieved with you yet.”

“You foolish brute. You should be thanking me for covering your tracks, saving that scrumptious ass of yours. Oh, my pet…when you will realize you are the one at my disposal now?”

Finally, skin to skin August lined up with her entrance. His tip rubbed teasingly against her parted folds pushing in a few inches. His shallow thrusts only spurred her on. He didn’t dare let up on the vice grip of her hips. An unnaturally strained whimper strangled the surrounding room. Pre cum leaked from the tip stirring the aching in their bellies.

“You have no idea how disturbingly gratifying it is to have found an equal, a partner of sorts with a taste for blood and sadism.”

His mocking grew old quickly as his hands continued their firm hold.

“We put Bonnie and Clyde to shame. Pathetic for running, idiotically oblivious to their own demise that lot. They didn’t appreciate the art of murder. The true pleasure of control. No room for impulse or error. Unappreciative of valuing a method to morbid madness.”

Without a word, he sunk in Y/N in one quick push. Her hands jutted out leaving imprints along the steamed window.

“Ah, fuck Auggie.”

Again, August snapped forwards unrelenting in his cruel pace. Y/N met him each and every movement in their ferocious dance of dominance. She squeezed her pelvic muscles painstakingly tight around his cock. August’s eyes rolled to the back of his head attempting to picture anything to keep him from busting that very second.

“Hunt will be arriving soon. We can run, start anew, create chaos elsewhere without any government supervision. Say the word and I’m yours.”

Y/N barely made out his panted speech due to the pounding of blood running through her ear canals crashing like waves. She was too turned on, too lost left unable to process what August was offering instead moaning raucously loud.

Slapping of skin resonated as their ends soon approached desiring nothing more than to cum. His balls slapped against her as his cum dribbled down her inner thighs. He rammed harder causing Y/N to stumble remaining deep inside her. August halted all movements finding a pair of sapphire eyes staring into his. Y/N shifted her hips in hopes of resume.

“Fucking move, Walker. I want to cum.”

“What’s your decision; orgasm or death?”

Silence stilled; August’s patience was disappearing at an alarming rate. He rutted upwards into her forcing an exhale from her lungs.

“You embarrass yourself with the question if you didn’t already know the answer.”

Anger blinded him compelling him to rip her face towards him. In his moment of rage, August thrusted powerfully reading her body like the back of his hand. She was on the cusp of orgasming and he took full advantage of that knowledge.

Barely a whisper graced his ears; “Yes, forever yes.”

Her pussy constricted pulling him in deeper than ever before as they fucked like wild animals. Taking whatever offered succumbing closer to orgasmic ecstasy.

“Good girl.”

August stiffened bending Y/N at the waist driving violently into her dripping cunt. Not more than four thrusts later, August tensed feeling Y/N constrict around his length sending a shiver down his spine. Breathy grunts could be heard through the walls as he filled her with his sticky cum. She devoured every drop placing her hands on his ass keeping him in place at her sweet spot. Her orgasm overtook her like a summer thunderstorm on a midnight sky. 

She quivered speechless as she surrendered to his touch. This breath tickled the back of her glistening neck. Hot white emission gushed out of him painting a mural in her womb. They didn’t move from their current predicament still coming down from their highs. All too soon, August removed himself tucking himself back into his pants. Y/N stayed in place untrusting of her jelly legs.

“Shit, I needed that.” A tiny queef escaped her now drenched lips watching in awe as small spurts of his juice ran down her legs like raindrops. She swiped a finger against the white liquid sucking it dry. August felt his cock twitch in his pants wanting to fuck her all over again.

“We need to get out of here now.” Tossing her a towel, she cleaned herself observing August scramble his life remnants together.

“Where to next?”

That devilish smile she so longingly adored frighteningly arose to life, his pupils darkened at her questioning nature, before reaching his hand towards hers. She accepted interlocking their fingers as one. In two seconds, time, August pulled her into his grasp kissing her in passionately. Their kiss was messy, vile, and monstrous. Y/N already craved another round but knew better than to push. After all, they were on a time constraint.

“India. We’re off to India my dove.”

“I hear their Murg Makhani is quite delectable.”

“I have a friend in Kashir but we must move quickly. We need something to knock Hunt off our scent.”

“I’ve just the idea.”

Just one glance was all it took for August to read her mind effortlessly.

“By all means lead the way.”

A wickedly foul smirk scrabbled to the surface, unearthed from a long-sealed lockbox.

“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.…”

~~~~

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[baby-grayson]

Kind Stranger| GBD

Word Count: 2.8k (teeny tiny) Trigger Warning: quarantine talk A/N: This is my first fic post ever! Please let me know what you think about this little teaser. Please please give me feedback about if I should keep going or if I can improve at all!!

The saltwater hit his tongue sharply. His body fell alongside his board in the water. While his feet met the ground again, he quickly scooped up the wayward board before it floated too far away. Arriving back on the shore, he dug the bottom of the board into the heavy, wet sand. He sat next to it, the tide kissing his feet and bare legs as it danced along the shore. He took a deep breath. He was at peace.

Grayson Dolan didn’t feel peace often: at least, not lately. The past two years had been one chaotic haze after another. Moving into a house in LA. Being on Fear Factor. Having his first stalker. Being there to watch his father pass. Starting a fragrance company. Erupting into a workaholic pattern of self-destruction to avoid dealing with the emotions of his father’s death. Announcing to his over 10million fans that he and Ethan had reached their last emotional string and needed to pursue a life that was happiest for them, including projects that pushed them as creators.

The creative projects were as scary and dizzying as they were exciting. He and Ethan traveled across the country in a custom van. They explored the Australian wilderness. They started a podcast with their friend, Ryan, to introduce the real, mature versions of themselves to the internet. Grayson had a small black notebook in his bottom left desk drawer with project ideas and timelines for the year.

But that notebook became pointless when the pandemic hit. He and Ethan were in the process of finding a new house after an incident with an unhealthily obsessed fan when the shelter in place orders hit. The first month was unstable; no one should have to move to a new house in the middle of a pandemic. But the craziness subsided eventually, Grayson and Ethan found a home to call their own for the first time in their lives. After living in close quarters during construction left them at each other’s throats, they found a rental in Malibu to live out the rest of their quarantine days. Periodically, the visited their mother in New Jersey.

Visiting New Jersey did not exactly follow the CDC guidelines. Grayson quelled the risk in his heart with the importance of his mother. If she wasn’t working and he and Ethan only ever saw each other, how dangerous could it really be? Besides, his mother needed him. After the death of his father, his mother was left alone in their house in rural New Jersey. She had nothing but the memories of buying the home, bringing home two twin baby boys, teaching her daughter how to ride a bike, and having tough conversations about her sons’ dreams… Yeah, she needed him. Grayson decided. Grayson still held guilt from not spending enough time with his mother after his father passed. He loved her more than anything, and in a deep place, a place so deep that he didn’t dare think on often, he would never forgive himself for not being there for her in the weeks following his father’s passing.

He thought of her often: like on this beach in Malibu. He thought of how she’d love to pull up a beach chair and enjoy a Mojito while soaking up the sun. The image almost made him chuckle. For a short second, he pictured Ethan and Cameron there with her. Cameron would pull up a beach chair next to their mother, blasting her latest musical obsession from a stereo. Ethan would try to surf, but eventually his more whimsical tendencies would give out and he’d try building the biggest sandcastle a 20-year-old man child could muster.

Grayson chuckled to himself, he buried his hands in the sand at his sides. He played with it in his palms, feeling the fine granules pass over his coarse skin. A thousand little diamonds slowly withering away at a firm and precise exterior. He was also reminded of his mother constantly telling him to exfoliate his callouses from building.

This was Grayson mid-pandemic. The mess of finding a house passed. The initial marvel of staying busy inside the house passed. Hell, even the wonder of cutting his home-grown mullet had passed. Now, he and Ethan traded turns being the more bored twin. Ethan had re-watched Stranger Things about 10 times by now. Grayson spent his days working out, following his regimented daily routine to soon reach a Planche Hold. Occasionally, one of them would reach a deeper state of boredom and go to bother the other twin. They would go to bed and rehearse the routine again the next day.

Unfortunately for Grayson, Ethan slept like the dead. His twin brother usually slept until 11:00 AM; the pandemic had pushed that to a firm 1:00PM. His brother’s sleeping beauty impression left Grayson with nearly half a day to himself. Grayson made a ritual out of going surfing. The beach was secluded enough to not require the precautionary thinking of masks and hygiene in a pandemic. It was just Grayson, his board, and the ocean. He spent his alone time thinking of the important people in his life. In some ways, this pandemic was almost a good thing for him. He spent last year moving too fast among emotions he was too immature to process on his own. This year the world forced him to move too slow in an attempt to let his mind and heart catch up to the rest of his life. His introspective moments on the sand and sea were his own to experience and process alone. Except today.

She looked down at him and smiled, “Good Morning”

His lips turned up softly, “Morning”

He watched as she walked away: a long, dark ponytail fluttering in the wind over a flowy, white sundress sundress with a small, leather purse hanging at her hip. Grayson leaned back on his palms when he noticed something. Her footprints weren’t even. In the sand, one foot was about two inches deeper than the other. He furrowed his brow, pondering it for a second before shaking his head. He dipped his hands in the water and wet his newly cropped haircut. He was seeing things, probably swallowing too much salt. He grabbed his board and headed up shore to his van.

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He wouldn’t have recognized her without the hair. The next day, he was paddling back to shore on his board when she walked by. He could make out her long, dark hair against the pale, sandy background. He squinted: not being able to tell if she was looking back at him. He smiled brightly and outwardly, just in case she could see him. His smile faded in a few seconds. what am I doing? He thought before padding back to shore to make his usually introspective campsite.

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The third day, he was firmly in deep thought about his next tattoo when she walked by. They made eye contact as they flashed each other warm, but polite, smiles. “Good Morning” “Good Morning”.

This secluded little beach not his own anymore. He shared it with a kind stranger. She was a silent reminder that the world continued to turn outside of his fast-paced, modern, social media based lifestyle. Okay he thought maybe I’m being a bit deep …but it’s nice to have someone else around I guess.  

Their routine played for two weeks. She would walk by Grayson, either as he was coming to land again or paddling his way back to shore. They exchanged greetings and smiles as they passed. By the time she turned around and walked back to her car again, Grayson was gone.  Sometimes she saw the imprint of him in the sand when he was gone and thought about him when he wasn’t there. For a few minutes, she would muse to herself about his name. Sterling? No too Disney. Lance? No too King Arthur. William? No too Royal Family.

Occasionally, Grayson would think back to her outside of his beach visits. Maybe he passed a girl with long, dark hair in the grocery store, or maybe he saw someone about her size on the other side of a parking lot, he would catch his breath quickly before realizing it wasn’t her. What would I even say? Are we friends? She probably doesn’t remember what I look like. Why do I care? That last one got him.

Why did he care? Sure, he thought, she was pretty. She seemed nice, well okay her Good Mornings sound nice…nicest he’d heard in a while considering the only other person who wished him a good morning was Ethan. Maybe that was just it, he was spending too much time by himself or with Ethan. Ethan and Grayson had been quarantined together for almost four months now. The only other people he had seen was his mother, sister, and friend Ryan. When you only speak to 4 other people face to face for four months, the girl on the beach was a contender for one of his closest friends. The thought settled well in his brain, rationalizing his anxieties about seeing her in public.

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About two weeks later, on a Tuesday morning, the sky was grey as the sun hid behind the clouds; the ocean water was unusually murky with dense foam. Grayson’s head must have been in the grey clouds because his usual surfing excursion left him tumbling around in the water more than usual. He started back for the shore earlier than usual, sensing that today was simply not his day. When the water reached his chest, Grayson started to walk upright in the water while dragging his board behind him. Not a few seconds later, he felt a sharp pain stab the outer edge of his left foot. “FUCK”, he swore out loud and gasped. The saltwater heightened the pain as he continued to trudge through the water.

He arrived on shore and noticed a jagged, long cut along the side of his right foot. The saltwater washed away the blood seeping through the wound: all that was left was a deep, slender slice taken out of the side of his foot. He tossed his board down, not bothering to dig it into the sand. He sat on the waters edge, trying to wash the sand out of the wound but wincing when the salt returned with its pointed sting. He groaned softly to himself.

I can’t walk back to the car like this, he thought to himself.

He threw his head back, frustrated with the situation. Frustrated with how he might have scratched his board on a rock from tossing it down. Frustrated from the deep wound spewing blood from his foot. Frustrated with his loneliness. Frustrated with the pandemic. Frustrated with his career. It all lead him here: sitting on a beach, more than half naked, with a bloody foot and a bruised ego. He sighed out loud and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Are you okay?”

Grayson nearly jumped, not because she was mean or aggressive but because he was having his internal meltdown under the impression that he was alone. He forgot about his little beach friend. Her brow furrowed softly, oh shit I should say something. 

“Yeah, I uhh I just got cut up is all” Grayson waived his injured foot softly from where it lay.

She hesitated for a second, neither of them was wearing a mask. Surely Dr. Fauci would approve of her helping a lone stranger who was in pain. She ignored the premonition, figuring that she wouldn’t be seeing anyone else soon anyway but remembering to put a mask in her purse for any future first aid incidents.

“Do you need a hand?” Her eyes were kind and caring, a deep brown that looked nearly gold in the grey light of that Tuesday morning. Grayson found himself looking at her, really looking at her for the first time since they started sharing the beach. She did not notice Grayson’s awkward gawk getting the best of him. She bent her head down, her eyes leaving Grayson’s gaze to search her purse for something. Grayson realized how small she was, probably only 5 feet tall and slender framed underneath her T-shirt and shorts. She unearthed a small, white package from within her purse. “Bandaid?” she offered, holding it out to him.

“Yeah that’d be great,” Grayson nodded softly and took the package from her. He looked from the white box to his cut and his muscles tensed up, unsure of where to start. He looked up at her, his brown eyes wide with uncertainty. She smiled softly at him, reassuring that frustrated place in his heart slightly. “Want some help?”, she was already kneeling down before he could start nodding.

Grayson slipped the white bandage box into her small palm as she started wiping away the larger pieces of sand around the cut. “You think it could get infected?” he asked, “By something in the water?”

She laid a piece of gauze over his cut as she shook her head. “No, the salt in the water would act as an electrolyte to dehydrate the phospholipid bilayer of any aquatic bacteria before it even got in.” He felt his eyebrows raise. She wrapped his foot in a larger bandage before adding, “uh I mean… it’s salt water, so you’ll be fine…..how did you do this anyway?”

“I must’ve stepped on a rock coming out of the water,” Grayson coolly forgot to mention his earlier debacle of looking like a Saint Bernard on a surfboard.

“If a big guy like you can get taken down by a rock, I have no chance in this world,” she remarked while standing up and putting the box back in her purse.  Grayson laughed out loud with a wide smile. Her joke wasn’t even that funny, but it had been so long since he heard someone make a joke besides Ethan.

She smiled down at him, “I like the band” she gestured toward the solid black tattoo on his right ankle. “I think I would go with an anklet though,” she added with a soft confidence.”

Grayson tried to stand on the freshly bandage foot, “True but this way I’ll never lose it in the ocean.”

It was her turn to laugh, she flashed a bright smile at him and let out a happy sound. Her laugh died down as Grayson stood up tall: a tanned, muscular Adonis standing before her. “Well um..I’m glad to see you’re doing okay,” she started to step away from him, “See you later.” She smiled before turning away.

“See you later,” Grayson waved goodbye as she turned her back and continued her walk. He stopped himself, why was a grown man waving goodbye in public like a kindergartener at school? He let his hand fall to his side before picking up his board and walking back to his van. He looked down at his foot, I guess Ethan is taking out the trash tonight..and making me dinner. 

On the other side of the beach, she drew in a breath and cursed to herself, shit..I didn’t get his name..

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Grayson returned to the beach the next morning without his board. He decided that getting his bandaged (freshly done and kissed with love by Ethan) foot was too much of a risk. Also, he feared cutting up his good foot with a matching gash. He couldn’t depend on pretty girls with nice eyes to always be there with bandaids.  Instead, he sat down on the sand, letting the water run over his right foot and leg. He held his injured leg in his bicep, folding his knee up to meet his chest. With his free arm, he tried to skip stones in the water from his position on the ground.

He tried his best to enjoy his introspective morning with the ocean, even though he wasn’t in the water.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your board” she looked down at him from under the visor of a black baseball hat.

He chucked, “Boards don’t pair well with bandaged feet.” He smiled up at her, “Thank you, by the way, for yesterday. I really appreciate it… You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem….just being a kind stranger,” outwardly, she smiled gently but inwardly she cringed at the awkwardness of her own words. Grayson smiled gently back at her, she can’t have been too awkward if he’s still looking at her right?

“My names Kate”

“I’m Grayson”   A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! This is the first thing I am ever posting and would really appreciate any feedback you have about whether or not I should keep going. <3 

[nyssaalghul124]

Funny Feeling

I am a huge fan of @inkribbon796 ’s Masks and Maladies series, so I wanted to write a one shot with some of the characters. Fic under the cut. Also, please read the trigger warnings before you check out the fic. thanks! (also this conversation takes place after Like a House of Cards, so Mark and Sean know that Hearts is the future version of Ethan)

Trigger Warnings: mentions of torture, electrocution, panic attacks, identity issues (kind of, idk, I’ll throw it over here just in case), crying, PTSD, survivors guilt, kind of implied claustrophobia, mentioned suicide attempt (nothing graphic, I promise), mentioned stay at a psych ward

Summary: Silver Shepherd and Jackieboyman have a conversation with Hearts. It doesn’t go how they thought it would.

Hearts was on the roof when they came to him to have the inevitable conversation. He knew they’d try to talk to him the second he revealed himself. Hearts didn’t bother turning when he heard the two figures trying to creep behind him. He kept strumming his ukulele. He wasn’t wearing his mask or his voice box, so it was just his voice that came out when he sang.

Total disassociation

Fully out your mind

Days go by in seconds 'cause

We've lost all sense of time

Hold back your tears

Each time your parents try to call

Not suicidal

But still not alive at all

Mark and Sean exchanged concerned glances.

There it is again

That funny feeling

That funny feeling

There it is again

That funny feeling

That funny feeling

Hearts didn’t bother wiping the tears that came to his eyes. He knew they wouldn’t fall. He remembered the last time he saw the two men behind him, back before everything went wrong.

“Hey, Eef,” Mark tried.

“Don’t call me that,” Hearts said, not turning to look at him. “I haven’t been Ethan in a long time.”

Sean carefully stepped closer. “What should we call you then?”

Hearts hesitated. “You can call me Nestor. The only person that’s called me Ethan for the past six years was Spade.” He finally turned to look at them. “Where’s younger me?”

“We sent him to sleep it off,” Mark said.

“Good,” Hearts turned back to the city.

“Are you okay?” Mark finally asked. He winced at the sound of the question, but before he could try and rephrase, Hearts laughed sadly.

“You know they killed Tyler in front of me?”

Mark and Sean both froze. Hearts didn’t look at them. “The demon hunters nabbed him from Ohio and dragged him over to this dumpster fire of a town, and then nabbed me too.” Hearts paused to clear his throat when his voice started getting choked up. “They threatened to torture him if I didn’t tell them where all the possible demons were.”

Hearts scoffed softly. “By that point, basically everyone in town was part demon. Tyler looked me in the eye, and told me he’d kill me himself if I told them anything.” Tears were slowly pouring down Hearts’s cheeks. “It was six hours. They put him in one of those electrocution chairs, and they put the voltage too high. His heart stopped.”

Mark and Sean’s heartstrings tugged painfully when Hearts let out a sob. “It was too late. He was already half dead by then. They panicked and ran, and I couldn’t stop screaming. By the time Spade got there, I was trying to do CPR, and I was basically in hysterics. He had to knock me out.”

Hearts was softly weeping at that point, still not looking at them. “That was the day, Ethan Nestor ceased to exist.” He choked out, gritting his teeth and wiping his eyes.

“Oh, Ethan,” Sean whispered sadly. It hurt to see a boy normally so optimistic, so full of life to be reduced to a shell of who he once was.

Hearts didn’t comment, just turned to face them. “It wasn’t your fault,” Mark said slowly, cautiously sitting a couple inches away from him. “You did everything you could.”

Hearts choked on another laugh. “That’s what Emile tells me whenever Spades can get Patt sane enough to form him. Doesn’t mean I believe it.”

Hearts finally turned to face his friends, nothing but helplessness on his face as he looked at them both. “Two weeks later, I tried to off myself. Spade found me. I had to spend two months in a psych ward. By then, I was apathetic enough to get the job done.”

“Did they make you police commissioner again?” Sean asked, sitting on Hearts’s other side.

Hearts scoffed. “They were basically begging me to come back. The demon hunters went on a rampage, and no one else wanted to go up against them.”

Mark cautiously put a hand on Heart’s shoulder. Hearts stiffened, but didn’t push him away. “I’m so sorry,” Hearts sobbed. “I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t save any of you.”

Sean couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around Hearts and hugging him tightly. Mark did the same. Hearts didn’t react, just sobbed louder.

“I couldn’t save you. There was so much blood, and I couldn’t stop it, and I kept being scared,” Hearts wept. “I haven’t cried in more than five years. I knew if I started I wouldn’t stop.”

Mark couldn’t stop himself from squeezing the boy tighter. That’s all Ethan Nestor, any version of Ethan Nestor, would ever be to him: That righteous little blue boy with the bad acne who he had to stop from getting involved in things way over his head.

“Shh, Ethan,” Sean whispered into the boy’s hair. “It’s okay, we know you did everything you could. It wasn’t your fault.”

Hearts only cried louder. “Yes it was! I wasn’t there.”

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Mark murmured soothingly.

“You don’t understand,” Hearts choked, pushing them away. “I was trapped under a building before the real battle begun. I told you I was fine. I was watching as y-you - “ Ethan couldn’t stop his sobbing as he recounted being trapped under the building, utterly helpless as he watched his surrogate father and uncle be ripped apart, screaming in agony. “I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, I wake up some days and I feel like I’m still trapped under there, completely helpless . . .” Mark recognized that Ethan was working himself into a panic attack.

“Ethan, breath with me,” Mark coaxed, pressing Hearts’s head to his chest. Hearts gradually calmed down, laying limply in Mark’s arms.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you,” Hearts choked out. Sean felt his own eyes start to tear up as he grabbed Hearts’s hand and gently ran his thumb over his knuckles.

Mark squeezed Hearts tighter. “Listen to me, none of what happened was your fault. Not my death, not Sean’s, not your - “ Mark’s voice choked up at the thought of Ethan Nestor, pale and bloody and limp … “suicide attempt, none of it.”

Hearts, while clearly not believing it, nodded and wiped his eyes. He slowly fell limp in Mark’s arms.

Mark and Sean sat in silence, the future version of their friend laying in his arms. “Poor Ethan,” Sean finally muttered, moving to run his fingers through Hearts’s hair.

“We’re not dead now,” Mark said, his voice shaking. “We can protect him, keep him from…” Mark’s voice trailed off as he clutched Hearts to his chest tighter.

They sat in silence until footsteps approaches them. Mark and Sean turned to see Spade and Clubs approaching. Spade wordlessly held his arms out expectantly. Mark hesitated, before remembering that it Spade who protected Hearts when he wasn’t there to do it. He gently handed the unconscious boy to the man.

Spade hugged Heart to his chest protectively as he walked inside, not acknowledging Mark or Sean beyond a nod. Clubs watched them go sadly. “Poor guy was torn up when everything happened. We were the only ones on his side when he became public enemy number 1.”

Mark and Sean exchanged sad looks. Clubs sighed, before smiling at the two of them, a melancholy tinge present in his eyes. “Look after your version, won’t you?”

“We will,” Mark promised. He took one last glance at Hearts’s unconscious face, before nodding at Sean and going back to the base.

Mark made a promise to himself that day. He swore that he’d always protect their little blue boy, no matter what.

They grabbed Ethan’s favorite ice cream on the way back.

Ben and Jerry’s always made everything better.

[utterlyinevitable]

Hurricane (Part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 2.1k Warning: Small bit of cussing Summary: A hurricane is falling over Boston. Edenbrook has been evacuated and some very different doctor’s end up seeking shelter together.  

A/N: This series was inspired by an anon prompt request for “protection”. I hope I did it justice! This is a multi part story.  ALSO I love Gatsby and Fitzgerald and so self-indulgent in this chapter 🤣

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Once Becca and Ethan brought order back to Naveen’s kitchen, she bounded back into the dining room with a bottle of pinot noir in each hand for them all to share much to everyone’s elation. Ethan hung back during the first bottle, opting to gather blankets and towels for the guests. 

The group of gossips played card games and continued letting the conversation flow as freely as Naveen’s hand. Running out of hospitable things to keep him occupied, Ethan poured himself a generous glass and observed the people around him. With much convincing from the group he eventually gave in to the pressure and joined the game of ‘Bullshit’. When that got boring they moved rooms in the name of tranquil comfort. 

They all sat in the living room watching Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby as the storm raged on outside. Naveen was quick to make sure everyone had copious amounts of wine and cheese before retiring to bed. Without the scrutiny of his father figure Ethan felt he could be a little more carefree. 

Under the cover of darkness Ethan let himself drape his arm behind Becca against the back of the love-seat, making sure to keep his touch a distance away, the soft cushions dipped under the weight of his muscle. She felt the warmth of his presence along the base of her neck. The short invisible hairs stood up at the electricity emitting off him, igniting her senses in the best possible way. Becca smiled to herself, moving a bit closer to him so their sides were completely touching. She leaned into him just enough that the fabric of their clothes were pressed flat against the other.  

Her eyes darted around the dark cabin. Elijah had moved from his wheelchair and to the edge of the three-seater sofa. Sienna sat next to him in the middle and was now lounging out over Naveen’s deserted seat with a throw pillow cuddled deep in her small embrace. 

The coast was clear. Everyone was too engrossed in the film to pay any mind to the diagnosticians on their left. 

Boldly, Becca rested her head gingerly on the curve of Ethan’s shoulder. Her friends were none the wiser. 

Pushing their luck a bit further Ethan slid his arm closer to her shoulder blades. She reciprocated their game by placing a hand carefully on his muscular thigh. 

Ethan’s enchanting blue eyes did their own quick survey of the scene to make sure Sienna and Elijah were still oblivious. When he was certain her friends were too caught up on the imagery, Ethan cupped his free hand over hers. The corner of Becca’s lips noticeably perked as she laced their fingers together. 

“I love this story,” she whispered into his ear. 

“Why? It’s a tragedy. There is not one likable character in the whole plot,” he whispered back.  

“That’s what makes it so compelling. They’re flawed and real.” 

Before Ethan could rebuke, her favorite line was about to be said. 

“Gatsby? What Gatsby?” she mimicked looking over to Ethan. 

Her eyes held the same adoration reflecting from Daisy Buchanan’s character. It was hopeless and all-consuming, fiery and full of… something Ethan couldn’t place. All he knew was when that line fell delicately off her tongue he couldn’t help but parallel the feeling of him and Becca being the only two people in the universe. Ethan had that smile - that one smile reserved only for her. That one smile full of eternal reassurance and pride, making it as if his whole world revolved around her in that soulful moment. A glimpse into who Ethan was and not who Dr. Ramsey needed to be.  

Becca was mere inches away. One movement and it would all be over. Her eyes flickered down to his lips and back to the large television screen, ever so enchanted by the modern classic playing out before them. Ethan was thankful for her lack of focus. He let out the breath he was holding in he held onto her hand just a bit tighter. 

As the evening passed on Ethan let himself fall a bit more into comfort. 

For a brief moment he thought maybe, just maybe, everything could be this simple. They could be together and the people in their lives could all know, and no one would care. No careers could be in turmoil by the mere mention of their romantic relationship. 

No politics. Just love. 

Unfortunately, that’s not how the world works. 

Ethan was far too well-versed in cynicism to let himself fall any further than this moment. Holding hands in the darkness was all they could ever have with others around. He let the moment last, trusting her word that her friends wouldn’t destroy their ephemeral happiness. 

No, that was destined for them. 

Once the credit scene began to roll Sienna was the first to disturb the peace. 

“Come on I think it’s time for bed,” she sat up and tapped a dozing Elijah on the shoulder. 

Sienna dared to glance over at the love-seat - doing a double take to make sure it was really, truly happening before her very eyes. There in the warm glow cascading off the television was Becca curled up against Dr. Ramsey. Ethan was cradling her against him with his right arm securely at her waist as his left held up a book. He began reading the closest literature he could find towards the end of the film when he was sure Becca was asleep and wouldn’t castrate him. Neither diagnostician made an attempt to move. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Elijah agreed, lazily moving back into his chair while Sienna made sure to put the pillow back where she found it. “Night Becca, Dr. Ramsey,” he called as Sienna wheeled him to their room for the next few days.  

“Goodnight, Dr. Greene. Trinh,” Ethan acknowledged without breaking focus on his book. 

Once the friends were safely in their room with a click of the door Ethan began to migrate, casting the book aside and reaching for the remote on Becca’s armrest to shut the television off. 

“No,” she whined as his small motions rock her gently to disturb her slumber. 

With a smirk Ethan scoffed, “You’re basically asleep.”

Becca grumbled back as she threw her arms over her eyes, “I don’t care.” 

Ethan took the challenge and swiftly rose to his feet. Becca’s cheek immediately met the crater in the cushion as she flopped down without her supporter. 

“Hey!” her objection was partially muffled by the old paisley printed cushion.  

Ethan couldn’t help but chuckle at his resident. Her legs were still awkwardly folded under herself and he’d imagine they’d at least be tingly with pins and needles by now, she still had her jeans on and her top exposed the pale skin of her midriff, and her brown locks were wildly strewn about. With a bemused shake of his head he brought the remainder of the dishes into the kitchen. 

When he came back Becca hadn’t moved an inch, her body still lolled to the side where he was previously sat. 

In four long strides Ethan was back in front of her. Becca heard his shallow footsteps yet was too comfortable to acknowledge his presence. Suddenly the couch flew out of under her and Becca was in free fall. Before she could open her eyes taut muscle and bone made contact with her rib-cage. 

Ethan had slung her over his shoulder. 

“Ethan!” she hissed. Normally Becca would appreciate the delicious view of this new position however the generous amount of wine mixed with the blood rushing to her head was not working in her favor.  

“Shush, you’ll wake everyone up.” Becca’s bottom jiggled from Ethan’s playful smack. 

She argued back, “You woke me up!”  

“It was that or have a stiff neck tomorrow,” Ethan began to rationalize as he took each step carefully so as to not to lose his balance. “And I’m not dealing with your complaints.”

Naveen’s master bedroom was large with glorious vaulted ceilings and exposed wooden beams. It was much too big for one person. Keeping with the cabin theme, the bed was wooden with four tall posts, the outer wall was lined with windows looking out over the river, and the adjoining bathroom led right into a modest yet bare walk-in closet. 

Ethan placed Becca down on the soft springform mattress conscientiously. She reveled in the waft of cinnamon and cedar of the quilt and deep red cotton sheets. Becca appreciated how Naveen also had an affinity for pillows - four medium firm and two down were waiting patiently for her noggin. Becca was too enticed by sleep to rummage for pajamas in her bag. Instead she began to unbutton her jeans haphazardly from her horizontal position. 

Ethan watched as she fumbled continuously, not quite grasping the button enough to pop it through the hole. After the fourth try he swatted her hands away, taking the reins. Ethan expertly flicked the button, dragged the zipper down and freed Becca’s legs from the thick day-ridden material. She sighed as the cool air met her clean-shaven skin. Her toes then hooked and flicked off her socks while she sat up and pulled her shirt off.  

 Sitting cross-legged on top of the duvet in just her nude bra and purple lace panties she asked, “Staying or going?” 

Her jeans were now folded on top of the wardrobe where Ethan stood with a cocked eyebrow, “What do you think?”

BOOM! 

A close clack of thunder rattled the wood causing them both to jump. 

CLACK! 

TSS

“Fuck!” she screamed in exasperation as quietly as she could. “Do you think a tree fell?” 

“Rookie, are you scared?” 

“No. I’ve been through loads of hurricanes,” she asserted, moving up the bed to crawl safely under the covers. “There's just a lot of wood around here. One wrong bolt and we’re all up in flames.” 

Ethan perched himself at the edge of the bed next to her nearly nude form. “I highly doubt that will happen.” 

“But it could happen.” 

“Theoretically.”

The covers sat around Becca’s waist. Her supple curves of her exposed breasts called to him. Ethan began to reach for her but the rational doctor did all he could to stop himself from caressing the addictive skin. Instead his hand rested on her inner thigh, just the thin duvet separating their warmth. Her hair was a frizzy halo around her rounded face and her lips stained deep indigo from all the red wine. And yet she was still - always, so beautiful. 

She watched as his eyes trail over her and his chest rose and fell a tad quicker.   

“You should stay. I know you want to.” 

“You know I can’t.” 

“You know they already think we’re dating anyway.” 

Ethan was taken aback at the brazen accusation but not enough to remove his hold on her, “We are doing what?” Instinctively his calloused fingers tightened their grip slightly. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” she all but rolled her eyes at his idiocy. After a beat, her brown eyes fixated on his expert hand, she added, “Ethan… are you single?” 

Her small voice was full of shaken vulnerability. She yanked the covers up higher, releasing his hold on her, and curled herself further into them, shielding herself from his answer. Or lack thereof, there were too many seconds hanging in the space between them.  

He reached out to tuck a few strands behind her ear. The wait was killing her. 

“No… I’m not.” 

Those words. Becca felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs. How long had she been waiting to hear them? How long has she been hoping Ethan Ramsey would commit to only her with a promise of forever? She couldn’t recall anything other than him at this moment moving in closer to her. Their noses brushed every so slightly, his affirming and hopeful words lingering warm against her flushed cheeks. 

“Stay,” she breathed. 

The way she was imploring him could crumble the Great Wall of China. Every ounce of Ethan’s resolve came crumbling down as he finally admitted his feelings to the universe. He thought she knew by now how he was irrevocably hers without words needing to be shared. Dr. Ethan Ramsey would continue living a solitary life until he could freely be able to love Dr. Rebecca Lao and without fear of completely destroying her bright future. 

Ethan wanted so badly to dive into the covers with her and never come back up - her sweet embrace was all the sustenance he needed to survive. But the little voice in the back of his head told him not to cut the line just yet.  

“Only until you fall asleep,” he agreed. “Wouldn’t want Naveen thinking we were being indecent in his bed. He’d never let me hear the end of it.” 

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[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

frENEMIES, pt. 3 {Quarterback AU}

Summary: Locked in the supply closet together, the pair actually manages to resolve some of their issues but new ones arise when they realize the other side of hate is love and while one is willing to accept to cross the fine line, the other one will run scared.

Warnings: angst, swearing, panic attack, sexual innuendos and talk of sex

Part 1   Part 2

"Just stay with me tonight. Okay?" Grayson takes her hand, gingerly pulling her closer and while he wishes he could ignore the turmoil in her eyes, the hesitation in every inch of distance she closed between them, he can't help but wonder if she'll ever stop hating him.

After the past 24 hours they had, he hoped she would find a way. He just wants a chance, a fighting chance to show her he isn't the idiot, dumb jock she sees him as. He can't exactly deny the playboy accusation, but the rest of it wasn't very fair to him. At least he saw it like that.

"I feel like this is a slippery slope. I stay tonight and we...what? Have sex? Maybe just cuddle? Or talk? Next thing I know, you'll catch feelings and I don't really see how that would be good for either of us." Biting her lower lip, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, not in a violent or sexual way, just as a way to ground herself, to find a footing in the insanity of her actually considering willingly being around the man she hated for years. And her hate wasn't unfounded.

"Don't worry, my sneaky little princess. That's not going to happen. At least not to me, but I can't promise anything on your behalf. I'm quite the charmer, ya know?" Chuckling as she pushed him back with all her might, Grayson lands on the bed with a throaty laugh she found quite pleasant. However, when Grayson told her nothing of the sort would happen, he forgot to mention it's because it's too late, at least for him it is - he already caught feelings.

How this came to be, you may ask? Last time we left these two, love was the last thing on their mind...at least for Y/N.

Well, it all started with a push from a very bald Ethan who decided to lock the frENEMIES in a room.

"Seriously?!" Y/N pounded on the door as she realized she's stuck and the only reason why that happened is because she wanted to make amends with Ethan and Amina. That's what happens when you're trying to be nice.

Ever had a big fight with your best friend and actually have them be right but you just won't admit it? Y/N sure as hell found herself in a lot of trouble with her best friend when Ethan got caught in the crossfire and while she apologized to Ethan, profusely, Amina was just done with her. It hurt when she chose to side against her even before the incident that left her boyfriend without hair. Isn't your best friend supposed to have your back?

Ethan forgave her, or so she thought before he gave her and Grayson a push before locking them up in the supply room on campus and while Y/N pounded on the door, she realized she was doing that all on her own. She figured the ostentatious, loud quarterback would be breaking the door down by now and yet she found no resistance on his behalf...just silence.

Frowning, she turned to the unusually quiet Grayson only to find him in the corner of the room, eyes wide open, heaving.

"Dude, you good?" She really didn't want to come closer and check but when he shook his head no, she felt her heart start pounding. The last thing she needed is him having an asthma attack now, because he might think she didn’t notice, but she saw him hiding the inhaler in his bag after taking a few puffs and while she didn’t understand why he’s ashamed of that, she didn’t say anything. Just as he’s hiding his dyslexia, something she didn’t know about until the dinner they were forced to have and he stared at the menu as if it was in a foreign language before asking his brother in their ridiculous twin language what to order. 

"Why? What's happening right now?" Carefully, she approached him because he seemed freaked out as it is and she had no idea how he might react to her in this moment.

"Not a fan...of closed spaces." Managing to explain through a few quick breaths, he had closed his arms around his folded knees and for the first time in forever, she saw Grayson fucking Dolan isn't invincible. She’s become all too aware of that.

"Oh." She let nothing else pass her lips as she sat right before him, chewing her bottom lip with her eyebrows furrowed and her nose crinkled as she pondered what she could do to help him. If a man as big as him freaks out in such a small room, she might not be quite safe. Would he ever hurt her?

"Why is football so important to you?" And that's when she spoke up, this time with a question she hoped would help keep his mind occupied, derailing the possible panic attack he seems to be facing. She knew all about panic attacks for they've tormented her since she was eighteen. She knew he feels vulnerable and terrified and she wanted to give him a chance to talk about what he loves, is confident in and is also passionately involved in. It’s not something she talks about, just as he doesn’t talk about his asthma and dyslexia. 

"Huh?" Grayson looks at her, his lips quivering, his chest hurting and his heart hammering against his cheat and he couldn't believe he was breaking in front of the girl that hates him more than anyone ever has and he could already see her using this against him.

"Tell me. I want to understand." But there is no malice in her voice and the way she looks at him is...merciful. She's never been this nice to him and for a moment, he can't help but wonder why. Why would she care?

"Please." The softness in her tone is enough to make him trust her. Maybe it's because he wanted to trust her with all his heart regardless, but he found himself speaking to her about what he never talked about to any girl...only to very few people in his life that mostly included his family.

"My dad. It was sort of our thing. He was the most supportive...It....Playing football makes me feel closer to him. I guess I just want to make him proud. Besides, I love the attention. I do. I love when they cheer for me, when they pat me on the back after a win and most of all, I love how powerful I feel on the field." Rubbing his chin absentmindedly, he flashed her a smile, the cocky one she usually saw on his face and it lifted a weight off her chest she felt ever since she saw the great quarterback cradling himself in a state of sheer panic.

It almost breaks her heart to see him that way, because having your mind and body betray you like that is an indescribable feeling to know you can't trust yourself anymore. Despite all the voices in he read screaming at her not to, she reaches out, placing her hand over his so tenderly he thought he imagined her touch.

"Awe, you actually care!" Grayson cooed teasingly and she rolls her eyes, scooting away from him a little, taking her hand with her.

"Bite me, quarterback." And while they were definitely having a moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he could use this time to learn why she really hates him.

"Ooh, kinky! Where?" Winking at her, Grayson purses his lips and her exasperation is evident but he can't let her leave without at least some truth being revealed.

"So, I have a question." He says with a small smile and she raises an eyebrow at him, her left eye narrowing ever so slightly at him.

"I don't care." Sassing back, she turns her body away from him, trying to hide from his over-analyzing stare. His eyes, the way he looks at her always makes her feel naked. It's intense and it's unveiling and frustration and she didn't want any of it right now. She’s always had trouble with emotional connections and anyone getting too close made her nervous and Grayson particularly made her want to run away screaming.

"You asked one question, I get to ask one too. So...why do you hate me? I mean, I can't even understand what I did to you that's so bad...except for the eyebrows sophomore year BUT it was an accident and I apologized to you at least a hundred times." Looking over at him, her glare is clearly showing his jokes are not entertaining and she's had enough but if it means he'll shut up, she'll tell him.

"You stole my first kiss without even asking me the first time we met." She states through gritted teeth and the horror and confusion on his face is baffling to her. "Don't pretend otherwise. We were talking and I actually liked you before you thought it would be okay to just kiss me out of the blue before running off to puke in the bathroom."

"I SWEAR I", he was going to say he doesn't remember but it all sounded too familiar and he...well, he thought he dreamt that.

"Oh, God! I'm sorry! I was drunk off my ass that night and it was the first and last time I got drunk. I swear I thought I dreamed it. I really am an asshole." Running his hands through his luscious locks, Grayson hid his face as he wondered how the fuck did he forget about kissing Y/N fucking Y/L/N.

"Then there's the time you told Mike I was a snake and to stay away from me." She continues but he was shocked there's more than one reason and while he does remember doing this, she took it out of context.

"You got that all wrong. Mike was bragging around, saying he banged you and I was telling him he's a snake and I'd break his jaw if he keeps talking shit about you. He wasn't the guy for you. He just wasn't and I'm not sorry for that. I just wish you talked to me before assuming the worst of me." Leaning back against the wall, Grayson held her gaze fiercely. This was no time for weakness, he had to be brave and face her and make things better. It's been years and he...well, he's always had a thing for her.

One night stands were fun, but no girl ever challenged him nor intrigued him like her. She was so unapologetically herself, so beautiful even without trying and her mind works in such interesting ways that he was always in awe of her opinions, of her writing, of the way she sees the world.

"Alright...then how about when you conditioned the university to take Ethan on a full football scholarship or you wouldn't be going here? Did you ever wonder who you cost their lifelong dream? Because I know the guy who lost his spot and now he works at a gas station. And he deserved a lot better."

That was unexpected to say the least. If he were completely honest, it never crossed his mind someone might get cut when he insisted Ethan be accepted with him. Mostly because it was the only way for them to stay together and to be close to their dad in his final years.

"I didn't. I didn't think, I just felt. And it was wrong. I know that. But it also gave me and my brother a few more years with our dad and I'm sorry your friend got screwed over but I can't be sorry about why I did it. Just that I did it." Swallowing thickly, he watched her nibble on the lower left corner of her lips, her eyes falling to the ground and he could see the wheels in her head turning. She's overthinking, probably conflicted with what he told her and while it's not right, he knows she understands it.

"There were a bunch of pranks there as well, but these were the major reasons." She finishes, her eyes still fixed on the floor, unblinking and with a deep breath, Grayson moved closer to her.

"I'm really fucking sorry for hurting you, but I never meant to do any of those things. I just want to be your friend."

Chuckling, she finally blinks and looks up at him with more light in her eyes than he ever saw her looks at anyone but Amina with.

"Riight."

"I won't lie, I'm attracted to you, but I'd settle for friendship for now." Risking it, he places a hand on her back, craning his neck so he'd be in her line of sight for she turned her head away from him as soon as he started speaking, but she didn't fight his touch and that was encouraging enough.

"How about we make a little bet? Start this friendship right? Like...come to my next game and if we win, I get to ask anything of you. If we lose, you can ask me never to talk to you and I'll oblige. Is that good?" Expecting her to refuse, drowning in all the things he wants to tell her but he can't not yet.

He can't tell her he saw how her style evolved from wearing all black to actually having a colorful wardrobe. He saw the ring she ways wears on her right index finger and how she twirls it nervously before every exam or how she hates high heels but would still wear them to parties only to take them off an hour in. He saw how she struggled with her back in the second semester of freshman year, right after she fell on ice on the first day after the holidays. He knows she can't take a compliment but appreciates them, how she gets so involved with every book she reads that she makes the most beautiful faces when something interesting happens - she laughs, she cries, she loves the characters and after every book, it takes her a few days to remind herself it's all fictional, to say goodbye before finding a new book to obsess about. He also knows she has a waterfall as the background on her phone and that she wants nothing more than to visit Bali and Australia. He knows so much, yet so little and a from just observing her when she thought no one cared.

Grayson cared and he still does. He can't imagine a day he doesn't.

"Sure. Why not."

And as she agreed, the door opened and there was nothing better than the fresh air in their lungs after being stuck in there for what felt like forever.

However, Grayson won that game the next day and Y/N found herself actually cheering him on from the stands. It was definitely a new experience, but she didn't care. She didn't want to hate him anymore. It's exhausting to hate a guy who seems to be so painfully human that it's inspiring. There's nothing wrong in being human, in making mistakes and she decided to let go of his. As hard as it is, she had to. She couldn’t hate him forever, not when she knew his reasons and when she knows her friend had other choices and he gambled them all on his own.

"You really asked me to come to your room like that's not weird at all." She folds her arms over her chest and she can't help but be surprised with how tidy it is or the smell of wildflowers that fills her nostrils, she actually never imagined this is how his room would be. And she definitely didn't expect a keyboard in his room. He was full of surprises, the good kind.

"Just stay with me tonight. Okay?" Grayson takes her hand, gingerly pulling her closer and while he wishes he could ignore the turmoil in her eyes, the hesitation in every inch of distance she closed between them, he can't help but wonder if she'll ever stop hating him.

After the past 24 hours they had, he hoped she would find a way. He just wants a chance, a fighting chance to show her he isn't the idiot, dumb jock she sees him as. He can't exactly deny the playboy accusation, but the rest of it wasn't very fair to him. At least he saw it like that.

"I feel like this is a slippery slope. I stay tonight and we...what? Have sex? Maybe just cuddle? Or talk? Next thing I know, you'll catch feelings and I don't really see how that would be good for either of us." Biting her lower lip, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, not in a violent or sexual way, just as a way to ground herself, to find a footing in the insanity of her actually considering willingly being around the man she hated for years. And her hate wasn't unfounded.

"Don't worry, my sneaky little princess. That's not going to happen. At least not to me, but I can't promise anything on your behalf. I'm quite the charmer, ya know?" Chuckling as she pushed him back with all her might, Grayson lands on the bed with a throaty laugh she found quite pleasant. However, when Grayson told her nothing of the sort would happen, he forgot to mention it's because it's too late, at least for him it is - he already caught feelings.

"Seriously, what exactly am I doing here, quarterback? Expecting to get lucky?" She couldn't shake it though, that annoying feeling it was more than she could imagine. The way he is around her is just...disarming and equally alarming. She can't get too close. She just can't love him. Grayson Dolan is a womanizer and she'd be damned if she gives a man like him her heart.

She’s never loved anyone and she didn’t want her first love to be a guaranteed heartbreak. She wasn’t a part of the hookup culture, she didn’t know how to function in that world and she refused to learn. And while Grayson might have good intentions, he’d be onto the next one in the month. It’s all fun and games when they’re just flirting and annoying each other, but to actually involve her heart? It terrified her, pushed her body on an invisible ledge she didn’t want to jump from. 

"Do you really think I brought you here for sex? I mean...I don't want to be presumptuous, but why would you come here if you think that's the reason why? Do you want to have sex?" Sitting up with the notion that this is a more serious conversation, Grayson quickly took a look at her and she was fidgeting, nervous as if...as if she never had sex.

"No. I just...I don't know, I'm not exactly the type that does this." Raising both his eyebrows, he realized he is right. His little devil is actually an angel. A fallen angel like Lucifer, but an angel nonetheless.

"I didn't bring you here for sex. I just wanted us to talk and...actually sleep next to each other. I can sleep on the floor if you want me to." As sweet as it is, she still couldn't relax. A man like him didn't seem quite content with nothing happening and she...well, she never slept next to a man before let alone more.

Overthinking took over and she found it harder and harder to breathe as her heart picked up speed and the possible outcomes of this night started to freak her out to the point of losing focus, losing touch with reality. The world felt like it moved too fast, her brain couldn’t fully comprehend anything around her. She found herself back in the black pit where a panic attack was preying on her like vultures pray on those lost in the desert.

"Y/N...are you...are you scared of me?" His voice breaks as reality sets in and he can tell she's shivering, her arms wrapped around her as she glances at the door every few seconds. But he had no expectations of that night but a long talk and getting to know her better. He just wanted to show her who he is, but she didn't seem to believe that.

"Look, I'm not like you. I didn't sleep around. I had my first kiss in college with you and I tried dating a few guys after who somehow all ghosted me once they started hanging with you and I'm guessing they were a versions of Mike so thank you, but I never had sex, I've never even held hands with a boy before! I can't do this. I just can't." And before he had a chance to react, she was gone. His beautiful mischievous girl ran from him and this time it wasn't because she hated him, but because she realized she might actually care for him.

Tags: @mendesficsxbombay​​​ @beinscorpio​​​ @peacedolantwins​​​ @dolandolll​​​

PART 4

[isingonly4myangel]

You asked for prompts, so here is one: Hilda organizes a dance at the Academy of Unseen Arts to lift people’s spirits. Zelda begrudgingly attends. Everything is fine until a cheeky young warlock asks her to dance, and she has a flashback to being under Faustus’ spell.

Yikes, well this only took me more than a year to answer. Nothing like a mandatory quarantine to force you into working on pieces you haven’t touched in ages! Anyway, this is set after part 2, so we’re still in a sweet spot of potential before part 3 happened. First CAOS story, would love to hear people’s thoughts! 

Also, in case anyone is interested, the piece they dance to is “Melting Waltz” by Abel Korzeniowski. Yes, I like my horror tv shows :) 

Below the line, because Faustus Blackwood is an ass, and- ya know- trauma

The dance had been Hilda’s idea. Since the whole Satan fiasco, morale amongst the remainder of the coven had been low. Very low. Hilda, ever the caretaker, tried everything to lift people’s spirits. Once baked goods had failed, even with enchantment, she began to plan for the dance.

A week or two prior, Zelda had contacted the High Priests of two covens in New York City that had a reputation for being more liberal in their beliefs, to inform them of what had happened in Greendale. Both men had accepted her as the first High Priestess in history with relative ease, and though she was reluctant to show it, Zelda was delighted. So when creating a guest list, Hilda had written to them with a dual invitation for a face-to-face meeting as well as an evening of socialization with the Greendale coven.

Expecting the remaining members of the Greendale coven to be joined by a dozen or so members of the New York covens, Hilda spent days decorating and baking. Two days before the event, she and Zelda stood in the main hall at the Academy, making minor adjustments to decorations.

“What’ll we do about that… thing?” Hilda asked, gesturing to the statue in the centre of the space, now missing its head. It was one of only two tangible marks of Faustus Blackwood’s brief and twisted domain over the Church of Night, the other being his office within the building. Zelda had begun to clear it out the previous week, but had left almost as soon as she entered. She could not stand his lingering scent.

In response to Hilda’s question, the ginger-haired witch merely raised her left hand, palm facing the statue, and Hilda turned to look at Zelda as she felt her sister’s magic surge through the room. Slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, the neck of the statue began to melt. Dark grey droplets formed, dripping from the statue’s throat down to its shoulders. Before long, stone flowed as liquid, the statue becoming misshapen, drooping as it disintegrated.

Once the statue was no more than a large puddle of grey sludge, it suddenly errupted into flames. Zelda took a drag off the cigarette in its holder on her right hand, watching the remains of the statue evaporate.

“Well,” Hilda broke the silence as the last of the puddle burned away. “I suppose that’s that.” She began, somewhat awkwardly, to sneak out of the room around her sister. Zelda methodically exhaled a cloud of smoke before flicking the ashes of her cigarette in the swiftly shrinking puddle. Then the redhead turned on her heel and sauntered out, feeling somewhat lighter.

~~

The evening was lovely. The hall of the Academy was alive with light and sound. Candles on each wall and hovering overhead created a sophisticated and appropriately spooky embiance. Music reverberated softly through the space, somehow smoothly alternating between classical orchestrations, jazz band recordings, and modern pop songs for the younger generation.

Sabrina sat on the staircase surrounded by her schoolmates, the red silken fabric of her skirt draped over the stairs. Her mortal friends had joined the coven for the occasion, mingling with the Academy students around Sabrina. Hilda played hostess as she made her way in cheerful circles around the room to ensure that every guest was contented, the neckline of her blue dress cut just a little lower than previous dresses (at her sister’s encouragement). Zelda was every inch the High Priestess. Her fiery hair was pinned up, her dress a formal black, pointed at her shoulders and at the ends of her long sleeves, partially covering the backs of her hands. Her nails were a deep, blood red matching the jewels of her earrings and the color painting her lips. She stood in a cluster of warlocks, trading ideas on numerology, quietly pleased that things seemed to be going so well. Their guests appeared to be enjoying themselves, and Zelda felt respected, listened to, equal with the men she stood amongst. It made for a very welcome change.

The music shifted into a haunting waltz, a minor-keyed orchestration full of strings. The warlock on Zelda’s left extended an upturned hand to her, the gesture holding a certain air of ceremony. He made quite a picture with his gold suit jacket, along with gold rings on his fingers, eyes lined in the same color, and nails painted to match. So much gold laid against his dark skin created quite a striking effect. “Might I ask you for a dance, High Priestess?” he questioned with a charming smile. Zelda raised an eyebrow, almost as though she were evaluating him before replying.

“Very well,” she murmured after a moment’s pause, placing her hand in his outstretched one. He led her to the centre of the room where other dancing couples had begun to pick up the waltz tempo, and pulled her gracefully into a dance frame with a hand on her back, leaving her free hand to rest on his shoulder. As the music rose, he stepped forward and began to lead.

They were a very elegant pair, and other couples drifted to the outskirts of the dancing space to allow them more room. A number of conversations around the room fell silent as people turned to watch.

“You dance beautifully, High Priestess,” he spoke as she followed his change of direction with ease, flashing her that same lovely smile.

“Thank you, Brother Ethan. It was one of my favorite pastimes a century or two ago, I did quite a lot of it. All those marvelous European parties.”

“Oh I know just the ones, somehow the Europeans always throw superior parties. And so many handsome young men,” he added, a wry smile on his lips. Zelda gave a knowing laugh as he raised their connected arms for her to turn under, but as she spun- once, twice- the room seemed almost to tilt under her feet, and she heard the flutter of a skirt that she was not wearing, felt sharpened fingernails pricking the delicate skin of her waist. She was pulled back against the warlock, and she desperately tried to focus on his tightly curled hair, the feeling of the flat of his palm nearly between her shoulder blades, the gold edging his dark eyes, anything to remind her that this was not Faustus.

Breathe, she thought, forcing herself to keep with the rhythm of the music while everything in her screamed to run. Careful to keep her face frozen in a slight smile, she directed all of her attention to inhaling and exhaling evenly in time with the music, counting waltz time in her head. In 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Her feet followed his automatically, and she bit hard on the inside of her lip as he turned her again.

An eternity later, the music came to an end, and she returned his bow with a picture perfect curtsey. “You are truly lovely, Sister Zelda,” spoke her partner as they returned to the side of the room.

Zelda, Blackwood’s voice hissed in her mind, a cruel echo of Ethan’s friendly tone.

“Thank you for the dance, Brother Ethan,” she spoke, digging her fingernails into her palms to stop her hands from shaking. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some-something to attend to.” Without waiting for his response, she turned away from him and started across the room. She managed to keep a sensible- though swift- pace until she stepped into the empty corridor. Her strength disappeared and she broke into a run, undeterred by the height of her heels.

Swinging around the corner, she flung herself at the front doors and stumbled through them, the chilly evening air tearing into her lungs. She flew down the stone steps, no thought to where she was going, only wanting to get as far away as possible. Racing towards the railroad tracks, one foot caught behind her, and suddenly the ground rushed up to meet her, her palms skidding against rough soil and small stones tearing at the knees of her stockings. As she whipped her head around to look behind her, she saw her right shoe standing upright, its heel rooted in the earth. Her breath caught in her chest and a sob ripped from her lips, fingers digging into the dirt in an effort to find something- anything- to hold onto as memories that plagued her nightmares flooded her mind. She sank back on her knees, gasping air into her lungs while her tears left tiny dampened spots on the ground beneath her.

Every thought was disturbingly vivid- the overpowering scent of Faustus’s cologne, the sickly sweet taste of sugared tea, the sharp crack of the cat o’ nine tails against her back, pricks of pain as his sharpened fingernails tore at delicate flesh inside of her until there was blood on the sheets. The maddening knowledge that she was aware of every moment and yet powerless to stop anything.

A hand on her back startled her so that she recoiled from it with a strangled cry, her hip landing hard against the uneven earth. Half-expecting it to be Faustus standing above her, waiting to drag her back to the prison of the music box, she was somewhat bewildered to see Lilith looking down at her, an unfamiliar expression of pity on the face borrowed from Mary Wardwell. Zelda wiped furiously at her cheeks with the back of her hand in a futile attempt to compose herself.

“My Queen,” she spoke, her voice wavering. “What m-”

“I’m not here as your queen,” Lilith cut her off, kneeling beside her despite the dirt. “I could feel you. All the way down in Hell- your body, your magic in distress, your mind practically screaming. Zelda, what’s happened?”

“I-it felt… it felt like F-faustus, when he-he…” A sob bubbled up in her throat and she tried to swallow it, her head dropping in shame at such a display in front of the Queen of Hell. In front of Lilith.

Lilith reached out a gentle hand and placed it lightly against Zelda’s head, brushing fiery hair away from her face. The witch allowed it, leaning in almost imperceptibly to her touch. Wishing to spare her High Priestess any pain she could, the demoness pulsed her magic through her hand and nudged into Zelda’s mind, carefully touching on the recollections at the forefront of her memory. Brushing up against the thoughts, Lilith could see Zelda’s remembrance of the last few minutes in the hall, and of everything she suffered at Faustus’s hand. Her lips parted as she gasped in horror, tears burning in her own eyes to match the redhead’s.

“Oh, Zelda,” she breathed, leaning forward to touch her forehead lightly to the witch’s. “As I am Queen of Hell, I promise that no man will ever hurt you like that again. And when I find Faustus Blackwood, I will drag him screaming into the Pit and I will visit on him pain as he has never known before. He will pay for what he’s done, I promise you.” Lilith tilted her head up to press her lips against Zelda’s brow, sealing her vow with a kiss heated in Hellfire.

Hold me, she heard Zelda’s whispered thought as the witch bit her lip, trying fiercely to hold back tears. Lilith, please. Please hold me. The desperation in the redhead’s mind broke the demoness’s heart as it had not been broken in millennia. She gathered the other woman into an embrace, feeling Zelda’s arms wrap around her waist as she held her tightly. And as the witch sobbed against her chest, finally giving into tears, Lilith began to plot revenge against the man who had brought her High Priestess, trembling, to her knees.

What fun she would have with him. What fun.

[paulfwesley]

A Split Second (Part 1) [Bryce Lahela x f!MC]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f!MC (Dr. Claire King).

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2K.

Description: A split second. That’s all it takes to take a life. TW: guns, violence, blood.  

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices’ Open Heart. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Claire King’s background is my own creation, based off of MC in-game’s personality.

Author’s Note: OKAY this is my first time EVER doing Bryce, and even though he technically does not show up in this part, he WILL be in the next part. I’m posting this fic in increments just to feel out the reaction first, if it’s something worth pursuing. I’ve added some trigger warnings just in case, they’re in the description! They’re applicable to the whole series, however many parts this ends up being, I don’t actually know yet. Okay, I’ve gone on too long. Let me know how I did! Also let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list! 

Tagging: @n-wahz @anotherbeingsworld @graphitekayla @malxen @rookiefromedenbrook

Enjoy!

As a doctor, Claire King stared death in the face every day. It was her job to delay the inevitable, after all. Every chest compression, every dose of medication, and every correct diagnosis resulted in Claire’s tally against Death inching higher and higher. But of course, there were always a few cases where even Claire couldn’t beat the Grim Reaper. And she’d walk out of the room of the grieving family with a fire stewing in her belly that drove her to want to do better so that the next time she and death met in the arena, she’d knock him out cold.

 Claire knew death. Claire understood death. She woke up every morning with a determination that she would stare death in the face and celebrate when she triumphed over it. 

But she didn’t fully understand what it meant to stare death in the face until she stood with her hands in the air, tears streaking down her pale cheeks, and her body shaking like a leaf as she stared at the end of a gun poised in her face. 

30 minutes earlier… 

Claire thought she would had it all figured out. Ethan ditched her to hang out in the Amazon for two months (though Sienna insisted that technically Ethan went to go help out with WHO, but Claire wasn’t in the mood to change her mind about her… ex? Her attending? The dude she slept with twice before he decided he didn’t like having to deal with feelings before buggering off?) so she was going to erase everything that had to do with Ethan Ramsey from her mind. That included only ever referring to him as “Doctor Ramsey”, whilst ignoring the way she missed the way his name tasted on her tongue when she was moaning it. It included putting a smile on her face and reassuring everyone who noticed her drop in mood in the days following when she showed up to work one day to find out that Ethan had left without so much as a goodbye, even though a bottle of pent up sorrow threatened to burst whenever she curled her lips up. And it included forcing herself out of the apartment when her friends wanted to go out while all she wanted to do was lay in bed and wallow in her own sadness. 

It was actually Bryce who started it. He could tell something was off with her, but luckily Bryce didn’t pry. The only people who knew why Claire was acting heartsick were Sienna and Elijah, and even then, it was because they were there the morning she snuck Ethan out of the apartment. If it were up to her, nobody would know the mess she had gotten into by falling for her attending. Grey’s Anatomy gave her too much hope. 

All Bryce wanted to know was what would make Claire happy. It started out simple; nights drinking at Donahue’s, roommate movie night, late night ice cream runs. Then it was Bryce attending plays with Claire, because none of their other friends would even humour her idea for live theatre. It was nice, even though most of the time, Bryce fell asleep shortly after the play began, only to wake up with intermission and then fall asleep again as soon as the house lights turned off. And then it was Claire attending a monster truck rally with Bryce because Elijah cancelled last minute, and even though she spent most of the evening thinking about the various dishes she could be cooking, it was worth it to watch Bryce freak out at the trucks crushing each other and then turning to her expectantly, waiting for her reaction. For his sake, she went as wild and crazy as he was. Standing there, staring up at Bryce and looking at the way the bright lights cast a shadow against his sharp, soft cheekbones, that was the first time she felt a turning in a stomach, a flutter that warmed her cold core. And when he turned and grinned at her, Claire felt like she had seen the sun for the first time. 

Then, when the yearning to be touched and held and kissed became too much for Claire, it turned into stolen kisses, hand brushes, intimate nights. With every swipe of Bryce’s hand up and down her arm while her head rested in the crook of his shoulder, with every tear that rolled down her cheeks from the jokes he told her, with every moment spent just in Bryce’s presence, her heart hurt a little bit less. And less, and less, until she completely forgot that she was supposed to be hurting. 

Then Ethan returned, unexpectedly, the night they were celebrating their last night as interns. 

When Claire’s eyes met his across the bench outside Donahue’s, she expected her stomach to drop. She expected her throat to close up, her chest to tighten, her tears to threaten at the corner of her eyes. Instead, she offered him a polite smile and a small nod before returning to what Elijah was saying. That feeling was all she needed to know that she was officially over Ethan Ramsey. She could be happy with someone else. She even had a certain meat headed, smooth talking, scalpel jockey in mind. 

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Bryce staring at her and following her gaze. When he looked back at her, she could practically see the curtain drop over his eyes, and it remained there for days following. Whenever she tried to talk to him, she always got the brush off. And it was killing her. She had gotten used to the the way his laughter lit up her world, the way his eyes raking over sent a thrill through her stomach, the way her heart skipped a beat whenever she turned a corner and hoped that he’d be on the other side. But nothing; these days he wouldn’t even look at her. 

After finishing her own rounds, making sure Esme had her tasks, and ordering tests for another patient, Claire sighed as she trudged through the hospital. She cradled a heavy case file against her chest sent over from Manhattan Presbyterian that she planned to pore over during her lunch break. She felt a presence beside her, and she looked over to see Sienna falling into step next to her. Her hair was pinned to the top of her head in a messy bun and she looked utterly exhausted, but she offered Claire a bright smile anyways. “Are you on your way to lunch?” 

“Yeah,” she answered. 

“Cool! I’m starving,” Sienna replied. She nodded at the file in Claire’s arms. “Big, fancy, diagnostic team case?”

Claire laughed. “Yeah.” She glanced down at the papers. “I’m hoping that it’ll be something surgical. That way Bryce will have to talk to me.”

Sienna frowned. “Bryce isn’t talking to you?”

“You haven’t noticed the way he doesn’t look at me anymore?” Claire asked as they walked down the stairs, heading for the cafeteria. “I think it has to do with the fact that…” Claire looked around for prying ears but dropped her voice as a precaution anyways. “... Doctor Ramsey’s back.”

Sienna’s eyes widened. “You told him about Doctor Ramsey?”

“No!” Claire protested. “If it were up to me, that secret would die with Ramsey and me. But I think he can tell.” She raised a brow. “Could you tell? Before you caught me sneaking him out?”

Sienna bit her lip. “Do you want the truth?” 

Claire stopped in her tracks. “You mean you knew? Before?” 

“I suspected!” Sienna corrected quickly. She walked back over to where Claire had stopped. “I didn’t know anything for sure, but you did mention wanting something to happen between the two of you when you went to Miami. You didn’t tell me anything had happened so I assumed nothing did. But despite that, it was so obvious. The first name Doctor Ramsey ever learned was yours, he kept his mouth shut about what happened with Mrs. Martinez even though as an attending he probably had a legal obligation to tell Doctor Emery, and just the way you both never took your eyes off of each other whenever you shared a room.”

A blush brushed Claire’s cheeks. “Well, I don’t feel like that anymore.” She paused. “Well, I suppose I do, but now I feel like that whenever I see Bryce. And I want to tell him that, but the meathead runs away at the sight of me.”

They both resumed their walking. “I feel like straight up avoidance isn’t Bryce’s style though,” Sienna pointed out. She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you want, I can lock the two of you inside a supply closet until he gets his shit together.”

Claire chuckled. “That offer actually sounds tempting.”

All of a sudden, both of their pagers went off. Claire reached into her pocket and produced hers just as they reached the cafeteria. She frowned at the message that stared back at her before looking back up at Sienna. “Lockdown? Is this some kind of drill?”

“I think if it was, Doctor Banerjee would have said so,” Sienna replied casually. She was trying to pass it off like it was nothing, but Claire could see the worrying lines in her forehead. She reached out and grabbed Sienna’s arm. “How about we skip the cafeteria food and just grab something from the vending machine for now? We can hide out in a closet or something until this drill ends.” 

“And you’re absolutely sure it’s a drill because?” Sienna asked, but she let Claire lead her away and down the hall. 

“Because there’s no way we’re in a situation where Edenbrook has to go under lockdown,” she said. “I bet a baby went missing from the NICU or something.”

Sienna gawked. “That’s terrible!” 

Claire stopped at a vending machine, turning her back to Sienna. “All the more reason to grab an unhealthy snack and wait this thing out.” She bent down and placed the file on the floor. As she stood back up, she reached into her pocket for her wallet. “What do you want? It’s on me.”

“Claire…” Sienna’s voice was a soft whisper. 

“What?” Claire said, her eyes scanning the options. A Snickers bar? Nah. It wasn’t filling enough. A bag of chips? That was even worse. This was a hospital. They were doctors. They always went on about healthy eating yet never practiced what they preached. 

“Claire!” Sienna said, louder this time, though the tremors in her voice betrayed the strength. 

“What?” Claire’s tone dripped with annoyance as she turned to look at her friend, but the sight of Sienna’s face, drained of blood with her eyes wide and her lips parted with a slight tremble raised alarms. “Sienna? Sienna, what is it?” 

Sienna didn’t say anything. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. But her eyes never wavered from the direction she was staring at over Claire’s shoulder. 

Claire turned to see what Sienna was gaping at, and her stomach fell through the floor at the sight of the tall, middle-aged man standing six feet away from them. He wore a black blazer over a plain t-shirt flecked with bright red spots that Claire could only assume was fresh blood from the way it stained the pure white fabric. Blessed (or cursed, in her opinion) with an excellent memory, Claire never forgot a face once she had seen it. It was Walter Cameron, a patient she had treated weeks ago. He came in after he had been in a car accident that caused mild injuries, and Claire remembered joking easily with him as she pulled out glass from his body and stitching him up. Claire’s eyes traveled from his brown eyes, down his sweat soaked cheeks, down his leather clad arm, and landed on the pistol in his hand, aimed directly at Claire’s chest. 

Her breath caught in her throat. The only sounds she could make out in the otherwise silent, empty hallway were Sienna’s faint whimpering behind her, Walter’s ragged breaths, and her own heart thumping against her chest. 

She felt a shaky hand on her shoulder. “Claire, we need to get out of here!” Sienna whisper-shouted.

“No!” Walter boomed, taking a rather large step forward. He brandished the gun at them, waving it wildly as his finger rested on the trigger. Both girls let out an involuntary shrieks as they staggered backwards. “Doctor King isn’t going anywhere.” He turned the gun so the mouth was directed at Sienna. “You, on the other hand, will get out of here.” With a jerk of his thumb, he clicked the safety off. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Claire swallowed thickly. Despite the tremors in her throat, she said, “Sienna, go.”

She could feel Sienna’s eyes stare at her in bewilderment, but Claire never broke eye contact with Walter. “What? But Claire—!”

“Go!” Claire said again, stronger this time. She didn’t know Walter, not really, so she couldn’t guarantee whether or not he was crazy enough to take a shot at her or her friend, and Claire didn’t want to jeopardize anyone else’s life if there was a chance to save someone. Under her breath, her lips barely moving, she whispered, “Go find help.” 

The echoing of a sneaker hitting linoleum reluctantly bounced against the walls. One, and then another, and then another, until the echoes got further and further as Sienna dashed down the hall in desperation. 

Once she was out of sight, Claire returned her attention to Walter. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hands so they were in his sight. 

“Ahh, alone at last,” Walter sighed dreamily. 

Claire sucked a worrying breath in. “Mr. Cameron—” she began.

“It’s Wally!” he cut her off angrily, but the heat in his eyes quickly disappeared in favour of turning soft as he gazed at Claire. “It’s Wally, remember, Doctor King? Like Wally West? Like you said?” 

She nodded. “Yes, I remember.” She gulped noisily, her eyes zeroing in on the weapon in his hands. “What are you doing with the gun, Wally?” 

 He scoffed. “Isn’t it obvious?” He smiled at her, a wicked glint in his eye. “I’m going to kill you, Doctor King.”