#it's not the only time that the show pairs the magical version of something with its mundane counterpart
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scribefindegil · 2 years ago
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*reads Literally Just A Summary Of The Events Of Separation Arc and starts foaming at the mouth*
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sweetflanfiction · 1 month ago
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Asymmetrical Symphony - Part 2
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Universe: Arcane (LOL)
Pairing: Viktor x reader
Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help
Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written and GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.
A.N.: Thank you for the fav and comments!! This chapter isn't gonna have much Viktor in it, but I'm just starting to estabelish some things and get the ball rolling. I'll try and update more Vik x you as quick as possible. :D
Part 1
• ··········· • ············ •
The world was spiraling around you. Noises of the past, the present, of another version of the world, blurred and mixed into a weirdly misshapen music. You tried to stop it, pause the song to figure out what’s what. Pull a thread to focus on something, to ground yourself. You inhaled air into your lungs and then expelled it. Every time you breathed out, the sounds became less confusing, like an orchestra finding itself following the maestro. In the end, only the quick buzzing of the world around you was left, as it settled down in a place and time.
You dazedly opened your eyes to a bright ball of light right before you and someone’s hand on your forehead. The sudden memory of the Hex Angel standing on top of you, extracting your soul from your body, flooded your senses, and you had to get away.
Quickly sitting upright, you shoved the construct away, watching with dread as the angel fell and stood up with ease. Their hands up in mock surrender, the mask emotionless.
“Calm down.” It said, with the familiar accent of a friend. “You’re safe.”
“Vik-Viktor stop…” You mumbled at the thing while it tilted its head at you. “Please”
It kept coming closer, its movements slow and deliberate, palms up to you as if it were approaching a scared animal.
In the haziness of trying to get away from it as fast as possible, you felt the ground give away under you, and once more, you were snapped back to focus when you landed on something hard.
The sound that left your lips was less than elegant as your back hit the cold, hard floor. Your body is now fully awakened to every scratch, bruise, and wound.
The first thing you noticed, as you tried to will the pain away, was the hard, smooth surface under your fingertips. Ceramics, cold hard ceramics. You turned your head and opened your eyes to a wall of floor-to-ceiling tiles, arranged in soothing colors. 
You frowned at the familiar sense of the place.
Tilting your head backward, the minty-colored fold screen was unsurprisingly standing between gurneys, confirming where you were. Pilltover’s General Hospital.
And by the present company, maybe you had gone back to your time? Maybe forward? It didn’t make sense if they were here while you still looked human... something happened... Did you change anything that made the HexAngels different? 
The sound of footsteps clicking on the floor was enough to get your mind back to the situation at hand. You tried to move, but something was grabbing your extended arm.
Your gaze followed the extent of your arm until it reached a cuffed wrist. Your cuffed wrist. They had cuffed your arm to the bed. You pulled at the restraint, testing it. It rattled but didn’t open, as expected.
“It’s alright…” The Herald’s modified voice scrambled into a warm woman's tone, its footsteps coming closer and closer.
That’s new. You snapped your neck to the voice, inching as far as you could from it. 
The shape that appeared from behind the bed shifted from an abnormally beautiful construct to a tall and thin nurse. 
“What the…” You looked at her face. A smile plastered on her face, hands stretched toward you. “Where am I?”
She gave the expected answer, but she did not understand the depth of your question. 
“Why am I cuffed to the bed?” You asked, not moving from your seat on the floor, your backside becoming cold under the hospital gown.
“Officer Caitlyn wants to speak with you. You were found unconscious in the rubble of the attack.” The nurse went to grab you, and you swatted her hand as your vision layered her hand with a gold claw. She frowned.
“The rocket attack..." You mumbled, and she nodded.
“Quite the spectacle. If it had been in the Lanes, nobody would care.” She whispered, but you heard her.
“People died." You snapped, her eyes locking with yours.
“People die every day.” Her face contorted into a scowl, and you noticed a familiar accent in her speech, hidden behind the effort to sound Pilltovian. She’s from the Undercity.
You looked her in the eyes, and her indifference was palpable. She moved to grab you, but instead, she held her arm out. 
“Come on, let’s get you back in bed.”
You wrapped your free hand on the forearm and pulled yourself up, towering over her.
“There we go.” She patted the bed, and you complied, sitting on it. She stood in front of you, grabbing a tiny silver flashlight from her pocket and lifting it with one hand while the other went towards your face.
Reality shifted, and once again her hand transformed into a golden claw with white fingers. You swatted it away and moved your face out of reach.
“No touching?” She asked, and you nodded, her following your movement a second later. “Very well. But I need to check you.”
“I’m fine.” you said, and she rolled her eyes.
“You survived a rocket hit to the head. Trust me, you are fine because we gave you drugs.”
You felt the corners of your lips turn up at her sass. With the faint accent, it was like you were back at the Talis Lab.
"Just don’t touch the face.” 
“Very well, then you have to do it.”
She instructed you to pull your lower eyelids down, pull at your cheeks, and even gave you the tongue suppressor to look at the back of your throat.
“You seem very comfortable around someone in cuffs.” You told her as she gently peeled the gauze from a wound in your arm.
“People talk. From what’s been going around, you ran into the figurative building on fire. Sure, you knocked around a few enforcers, but sometimes they do need some sense knocked into them.” 
You enjoyed it as her accent became more and more pronounced the more she talked. Memories of good old times flooded your mind when another Undercity crossover would talk your ear off as you fine-tuned your instrument. You knew that accent by heart, even mocking him by mimicking it.
“How long ago did you cross the bridge?” You whispered, not wanting to divulge that information to the world. She raised an eyebrow.
“A few years back, before nursing school.” She kept choking your wounds. “How did you figure it out?”
“The way you speak. I knew…know…knew someone, a friend, a close friend who spoke like that. They were…are…from the other side as well.” You cleared your throat and gave her your best Viktor impression. “If you don’t succeed at first, you must try again, after hiding the evidence, of course."
“That’s pretty good, actually. People here judge on sound alone. I’ve been hiding it for years, and you caught it in minutes.” She grinned.
“It does take practice and a good ear.” 
You both fell into a comfortable silence, her checking your wounds and you reminiscing about the old days.
“When was the attack?” You asked suddenly, and she looked up from examining your ankle.
“Two nights.”
“What time is it now?” 
“7 AM.”
“Who survived?”
“You.” She grinned. “Councilor Medarda, Councillor Talis, Councillor Shoola, and Councillor Salo.”
Your ears drowned with the sound of your heartbeat. Did you go through all of this for this to end up the same way? Were you going to lose your friend again?
"Ah, yes, someone else was found in the rubble.” Your eyes snapped open as she got up from her crouched position. “The other Hextech founder... What’s his face? Lanky, tall, always standing behind Councilor Talis.
"Viktor?” You whispered, and she nodded.
“Yes, that one.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He is alive. For now. The calmness you had from the news was quickly replaced by another violent attack soon.
“Did they announce the remembrance speech day?” You asked quickly.
“I don’t think they even announced the public funeral dates, let alone announce the speech day.” She scribbled something on the board at the foot of your bed. “Well, my job here is done. I hope they go easy on you.”
She nodded, and you nodded back, turning to lay back down on the bed.
You had to figure out a way to stop that speech day. Or stop Mel, Jayce, and Viktor from attending, which would be impossible since Mel would be the one giving out the speech and Jayce was going to follow Mel and Viktor was going to follow Jayce. Or be made to, since these types of events were far from his favorite thing.
Time traveling is complicated, especially when nobody seems to know you.
You frowned. Why did nobody know you? I mean, the enforcers at the hexgate sure, but the ones in the Academy? You were practically a light fixture there, with the amount of time you spent inside.
And then it hit you like a rocket. They didn’t know you because you either didn’t exist or had a completely other life. So there was another possibility to your whole existence in this place. You could have time traveled, yes, but what was stopping whatever did this to you from making you jump through time and space?
What if this was another dimension, another universe, another timeline? What if the gods or whoever was trying to add variants to the timeline and see what got them the best results? 
Your head was about to explode with this new information. Being cuffed to this bed in this brightly lit room was not helping the situation either.
You needed to get out. Without knowing what was the catalyst in this universe for the rise of the Herald, you couldn't stop it. You could warn Viktor; what better way to stop him from himself if he knew the consequences? But what if warning him was exactly what made him go through with it? His magnum opus actually worked for better or worse.
Introducing a single keystroke of a sonata could change the whole tune. You had to warn him, discreetly. Which you couldn’t because you were cuffed to a bed.
Reality moved, and for the first time since it did, you focused on it. It felt like when you’d be in the lab and you could feel a spark of something in the wrong place, waiting for the right circumstance to zap. Another whisper. A soundless gasp reverberated around you. The sound of metal vibrating as it’s struck made waves around you, like a stone that hit the water. 
You managed to decipher, in between the waves, a new rune. 
Whatever powers were drip-feeding you, these runes hadn’t failed you yet. You looked around for a pen, a dusty surface. Nothing. You looked at the hand with the rune scarred into it. Nothing.
You looked at the side table. A glass of water. You tilted it on the table, but as you drew the rune, you watched as it became disfigured. The water wasn’t keeping its shape on the flat surface.
Quickly, you patted the side of your bedding down, making it as smooth as possible. When it was flat enough, you dipped your fingers in the water and drew the rune on the sheet.
Stop the attack. Flick. Nothing.
Did you need it to be broader or more detailed? You tried again.
Save Piltover. Flick. Nothing
Stop the Herald. Flick. Nothing
You flailed your hands around in frustration. The rattling of the cuff on the metal side of the bed echoing around is this wrapped reality. 
"Just unlock, you piece of—"
Growing frustrated, you punched the rune. Something clicked, and your hand was freed.
The world got back to normal, and you inspected your wrist, your gaze shifting from your wrist to the cuff. 
You shook your head to clear it and immediately made your way out of the bed, limping your way out of the six-bed infirmary. Some of the orderlies looked at you sharply, but with the attack they seemed to have their hands full, choosing to effectively ignore you. 
You grabbed someone’s jacket from the foot of a bed and put it on, thanking the gods they had kept your socks on.
The hospital was crowded, and you took that opportunity to make your way towards the exit. You kept your walk brisk and your head down, trying to walk around everything and everybody. Your heart was at your throat. Sneaking was never your forte; the last time you did, your father caught you halfway out the gates of the manor. You sighed, remembering the way he made fun of you more than argued. Footsteps light as a cannonball. You were usually the distraction for the sneaking, being the preferred go-to person for when the boys wanted to sneak a particular piece of equipment into the lab and didn’t need anyone to know. Especially Heimerdinger.
Forgetting your misadventures for a moment, you look up and see the glass doors, and beyond them the street. A couple of more steps. You quickened your pace, breaking into a small, limping run towards the doors.
The fresh air made you stop as it hit you in the face and you realized how damp and dense the air in the hospital was. You took a deep breath and started to make your way towards the sidewalk, looking up at the street, trying to map in your head the easiest way to get to the Academy, maybe even Viktor’s apartment, and if both failed, the Skyward Clinic, the topside private hospital. If any of them was hurt, that's where they would place them.
With your route mentally traced, you turned around to go down the correct route when something—or better, someone—made you stop dead in your tracks.
The Sheriff of Piltover to be, Caitlyn Kiraman, was standing right behind you. One eyebrow raised, arms crossed, eyes red and puffy. The scowl on her face contorting her pretty features.
You are about to run in the other direction, knowing that getting sent to jail would not help in your 'save-Piltover-from-the-Hextech-co-creator-genius-by-saving-said-Hextech-co-creator-genius’ plan when you feel the presence of two people behind you.
“I am not in the mood for games,” Caitlyn said, her voice matching her rigid stance. “If you are well enough to walk, you are well enough to talk. I can bring you in conscious or not. Your choice.”
“Why am I being arrested?” You asked, knowing full well that the trail of unconscious enforcers you left behind two days ago wasn’t exactly lawful.
She simply nodded to the enforcers behind you. They grabbed your arms unceremoniously and cuffed you, shoving you in the back of an Enforcer van.
············ • ············
Groaning, you rest your forehead on the table, the cool temperature of the metal helping the headache. You are sitting inside a concrete room, with your hands cuffed to the table. Caitlyn had left you there to stew.
"I'll be back... eventually." She had spat as she closed and locked the door.
With nothing but time to think, you went through your magic runes. With a limited range of motion, you started by drawing them on the dusty table without any intent for them, pushing them out with a tap of your finger.
Move. Tap. A miniscule part of the table seemed to become liquid, like you had thrown a pebble into a calm river, but nothing shifted or moved.
Unlock. Tap. Both of the cuffs and the door behind you clicked open, and you slowly looked between them.
Before you could get up and walk out, the door slammed open with a very puzzled Caitlyn standing just outside. She looked at the door and then you. Shrugging, you turned back to the table, quickly clicking your wrists together to reclose the cuffs.
“Who are you?” She asked, dismissing whatever thought she had previously.
You answer with your name. First and last.
“Adding ‘identity theft’ to your crimes isn’t going to help you. Who are you?”
Nodding your sighed content. If it’s identity theft, then there is someone with that name. Maybe you’d meet yourself and the dimension would implode. Or they could help you. 
“I would like to speak with my father, Counsellor Rainemour.”
Cailyn raised an eyebrow at your question, setting the folder down and watching you with hawk eyes.
“There is no Counsellor Rainemour.” She stated,coldly.
“But the Rainemours are in Piltover, yes?”
“Enough with this! Who are you? The truth! Now!”
You opened your mouth to answer but didn’t know how to. So, you repeated your name. She groaned and sat down in front of you.
“Do you know who Jinx is?”
"No.” you lied.
“Do you have anything to do with the attack on the Council of Piltover?”
“Ah… That’s why it’s you. No…”
And finally the penny dropped. The reason why it was Caitlyn who was questioning you. She had been such a normal face to talk to, to look at, to bounce ideas with, that it didn’t dawn on you why she was the one talking to you now. The daughter and soon-to-be head of the Kiraman family. She thought you had something to do with the rocket attack.
“Then what were you doing in the council room?”
“I was trying to warn the councilors about it.”
“So you knew about it,” she shot quickly.
“Knowing of a crime and being involved in it are two very different things.” You fired back. “Why am I being arrested?”
“Trespassing on government grounds, assaulting several officers of the law, entering a governmental space without authorization, and last but not least involvement in the rocket attack that left several of the councilors dead or injured.”
You looked at her and made sure she was looking at you, seeing the frown grow deeper as you raised an eyebrow.
Counselor Rainemour liked to argue. He was a lawyer; his whole life was about arguing. Whether it was about Piltover's government or about the ant's right to the sugar in the house. And you loved to argue back. You not only had the patience but also the stubbornness and willingness to argue with your father. You never won, but you also absorbed anything he gave you. Laws, regulations, how the system worked—you were a sponge. If for nothing else, to use it in a following discussion.
“First, I never intended to trespass. I didn't even know I was trespassing. If you don’t know who I am, then I am not in the Piltover's identification system, which means I am not from Piltover. I took a wrong turn.” You leaned back into the chair, the pride and arrogance of a Topsider dripping on every word. You hated to admit this, but sometimes you missed being this person.
“And ended up inside our most complex method of transportation?” She shot back.
“I’m a visitor; how do I know what the inside of the most complex method of transportation in Piltover looks like?”
“You are not a visitor.” She spat and sat down. “It took you 4 minutes and 45 seconds to go from the top floor of the Gate to the Council room. You took shortcuts and straight lines toward the Academy. You are not a visitor.”
You shrugged at her humorless grin. 
“Circumstantial, I may just have a very good sense of direction.” She was about to open her mouth, and you raised a finger. "Secondly, the only officer I assaulted was the one at the gate, and technically it could be considered self-defense. I was confused. He was shoving me. I got scared. He was a very intimidating figure.”
“What about the other ones?” She gritted her teeth and leaned forward.
“What other ones? I didn’t touch anybody else. Ask them. For all we know, they tripped and fell.”
Some part of you was proud to be deflecting all of this; the other knew Caitlyn wouldn’t just forgive and forget. If you got out with even so much as a fine, she would hunt you down.
“Third: "Forcibly" already indicates that it lacked authorization or consent to do whatever you are accusing me of. However...” Now the big finale. “Page 450 of the Piltover’s Government Guidelines, City Emergency chapter, 1st paragraph: any citizen of Piltover is allowed unauthorized entrance to the council chamber if the need to inform the council of a threat to the city is urgent and cannot be delayed. This entrance can be done even if the council is in session.”
You took a little pride in remembering this little snippet. Even if the reason you knew it was not because of your father. In fact, you knew it because Viktor had once made a miscalculation on a hextech concept that Jayce was about to present to the council. So he had burst into the room to try and warn their friend mid-session.
Turns out, saving your friend's face from total academic embarrassment is not a threat to the city.
“You must be really stupid.” At the insult, you narrowed your eyes. "Going on and on with your technicalities, knowing I can use it against you.”
There was one insult that had always made your blood boil. Stupid. You could be called dumb, ditzy, or unintelligent. Anything but stupid. Your Caitlyn knew that; your Caitlyn was the first to punch someone when they did it.
“My father is a lawyer, Miss Kiraman.” Your face turned cold, your tone hard. The shift was enough to make Caitlyn’s eyebrows go up for a millisecond. “He thrived on technicalities. And you can’t use shit from what I just said. You didn’t read me my rights. Nothing I said since you stepped foot in the room can or will be used against me. This…” You pointed between the two of you. “Is nothing more than two friends catching up. Your grief is clouding your judgment.”
For a second, the tension was as loud as a trumpet, and the silence was as thick as a fog. Caitlyn slammed her hands on the table and leaned into it, getting her face an inch away from yours, only to be stopped by someone shoving the door open.
“What are you doing, Miss Kiraman?” An unfamiliar female voice announced from behind you.
············ • ············
Viktor didn’t believe in luck. 
Because if he did, all his accomplishments could have been derived from it. So he just didn’t believe in it much. Sure, maybe finding some coins on the floor was luck, but not much more than that.
Everything he did and does is to make sure nothing is left to luck or chance. Every number on the blackboard, every calculation on his blueprints.
But now, standing in the middle of the destroyed council room, Viktor felt lucky. Extremely lucky.
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@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @adithsaley @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa
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shooting-love-arrows · 1 year ago
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𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 — 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄
SYNOPSIS: 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 characters and their yandere tendencies. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 (!aged up to be a legal adult!) x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x reader [romantic]; 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐬 x reader [platonic]; readers gender isn't impiled/mentioned/specified Tw. delusion, delulu is the solulu, obsessive thoughts/behavior, possessive thoughts/behavior, witchcraft/dark magic, mention of love making, manipulations, controlling behavior, tyranny (?), concent? what is it?, stalking, worshiping, creepy behavior, creepy people, hunting, mention of m*rder, punishments, yeah… A/N: I hold Snow White close to my heart. However, as much as I adore the animated version, I find the book more interesting. So this is based on German fairy tale or folk tale, [Snow White] written by the Brothers Grimm (Jacob Ludwig Karl Grimm and Wilhelm Karl Grimm). Snow White is AGED UP!
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 who thinks of you as her first, last and only love. She, just like most women her age, believes in soulmates. It's just so...romantic.
It happens that in her opinion, you're the one. Since the moment she lays her doe like eyes on you, she just knows that your souls are tied and destined to be one.
𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 fantasies about you. A lot. At first, those are innocent fantasies. Scenarios about you running around each other, playfully starting your courtship. Then your feelings shall grow deeper, the roots growing deep into your heart and so your courtship becomes more prominent and serious. Those playful touches become more affectionate. Holding a deeper meaning and reaching down into your essence of being. Then, you'll propose to her, in the most dreamy way one can imagine. Fret not, she'll (shout) say yes. Wedding preparations will follow soon after, then a grand, royal wedding itself and finally, you'll spend your first night together. Ah yes, the moment your bond will materialize in the form of a night full of passionate love making. The spiral goes on deep and each time 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 starts the imaginary movie roll over, her daydreams take a darker turn. 
𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 becomes very needy for your attention. She's just so touch starved to be noticed by her object of affection that she's just about to do something to make you see her as your potential wife. She'll dress up for you, looking like a princess that she is, otherwordly beautiful and charming; make sure to sing when she knows you're near acting like a siren who is ready to catch you in her net of love; showing off her many talents especially those she knows will catch your attention and let her start a conversation with you. And every time you do talk, it's like the whole world disappears, leaving only you. You find it a little concerning with how much 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 sighs and flutters her long eyelashes. Sometimes you wonder if she even pays attention to what your saying (or worse, that you bore her), since she seems to be stuck in her head. And her eyes seemed to have that strange glint that appears only when she looks at you…
𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 starts being interested in witchcraft. It is an unexpected turn but I feel like she searched for something deeper. Knowing that your soulmates (it's her opinion) just isn't enough. She must be sure. A way to truly bind you together. So…uh…like mother, like (step) daughter?
Don't get me started on what she writes in her diaries…
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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 who commands you to be her lover. Simple as that. She doesn't wait, nor ask for your opinion in that matter. After the (not so) mysterious disappearance of her husband – the King and Snow's White father – she'll have absolute power in the Queendom. And since she's the Queen and the most entitled person around, you'll have to comply with her wishes. Otherwise, she won't hesitate to force you to via poisons and dark magic.
She'll force feed you all sorts of aphrodisiacs, make voodoo dolls either of you or someone from your surroundings and in the end reduce you to being her puppet. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 doesn't need you to think. Just look pretty (but not as her) and submit to her entirely. Be her best and most treasured accessory, hm?
𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 often uses a spying mirror to stalk you. Whenever she's not busy leading the Queendom or simply desires to see you, she'll sit in her lavish chambers and command her mirror to show you. She knows it can only tell her the truth and only the truth, so additionally she'll ask all sorts of questions about you. Are you loyal to her? Do you have a family she shuld take care of? Do you have feelings for someone? If she finds out that you do have and it's not for her, the very next day a public execution is made for your crush. 
You're not safe from her wrath and mood swings either. Like mentioned before, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 isn't afraid to punish those who are against her in any way. She won't kill you but your punishments will be severe. Whipping and isolation are her way to go. Scars shall be your reminder to not cross her and loneliness borderlining to madness will thrust you right in her arms. Just like she didn't hesitate to assassinate Snow White, she'll make sure you understand your place and take your role as her lover seriously. 
She's all you need now and in the future. Your family, close friends and anyone you had connection with were taken care of. You're her loyal subject, made to worship her and serve her by giving her your never ending supply of love and affection.
She'll make you see that.
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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 who is your devoted worshiper. He sees you as some sort of higher being, who graced this dirty Earth with your pure presence. Who has graced him and his hard life with a drop of your soothing presence. The moment you showed him some kindness, even unintentionally, he's ready to carve his heart out of his chest and be at your every beck and call.
Although he is no knight by no means, definitely lacking those virtues, he's skilled within his field of work. It means that whoever dares to bother you (even if they don't) or worse, taint you (start courting you) is automatically a threat he needs to eliminate. Just like 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 does to his prey, he'll haunt them deep in the great forest by shooting arrows at their running form. But unlike his usual ethics to make it as painless as possible to the animals, he’ll deliberately make sure to make this person suffer as much as possible. He's ruthless. 
Don't be surprised when you'll find some ‘gifts’ from him. He's a man of a few words, not a drop of romance and hardened by life. Plus his yandere tendencies. So 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 gifts tend to be…disturbing. More often than not, you'll find already prepared quarries of his. You get furs, meat and even polished antlers/horns to hand in your chambers. 
Of course, he'll remain anonymous through this whole time, because he doesn't feel worthy enough to officially make contact with you. 
In the dark of the night, when he lays in his cot, he'll pray to you. That you'll allow him, a sinner, to be by your side. He doesn't dare (but secretly wishes) to be your lover, perhaps even your...husband? Whatever you'll pick, he'll agree on anything. He's that desperate for you.
One day…one day he'll overcome his insecurities and will speak to you…
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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 who is a lovesick puppy, ready to marry you right then and there when his eyes fell on you for the first time. He's hopeless, really. 
He's always there when you're out of the castle. Lurking just around the corner, ready to start luring you into coming with him. At first, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 offers are subtle but slowly and surely, they become bold. From promises to give you safety, stable life to making you his Queen and offering to conquer the Queendom as a wedding gift from him to you. He doesn't understand why you wouldn't want to come with him. He's the crown prince, only heir to a prosperous kingdom and a future king, ready to shower you in gold, gifts and power before you could even think of it.
He's a gifted singer and poet. He'll use that to his advantage to catch your attention, especially when you're in the castle where 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 obviously can't go. If it's possible, he'll stop his horse just under your window, hop down and that's when the performance starts. He'll sing ballads about your beauty, recites all sorts of poetry also related to love, sometimes even pray for you to come and grace him with your presence. His words are easily pouring out of his mouth in abundance. They're all about how he deeply feels towards you or about you. And he sincerely hopes they'll trap your heart.
In the dark of the night, he'll look at the portrait of you he had commissioned shortly after meeting you. Of course it didn't do your justice at all but it was just to pass the time until he'll have the real you by his side. He'll sigh dreamily at the canvas, whispering words of pure adoration for you.
His patience is running thin and the wedding day is nearing so fast...!
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✿ BONUS ✿
𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐬 [platonic] who are fiercely overprotective of you. They are greedy and dangerous beings by nature. They’ve killed before and they have no problem doing that again. Especially when some pathetic excuse of a pests seemed to be lurking around their hut, where they were keeping you locked in. There are seven of them, ripped with muscles because of a daily work in the mines and without any remorse in them. The opponent stands no chance. 
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All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.
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paigesbasketball · 13 days ago
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A December to Remember
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Paige x Reader Warnings: smut, cursing (i think) notes: I saw something similar to this months ago and though i would do a Christmas version.. Inspiration from: iceinmyveins on a03!
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The holiday season was always a magical time of year. Snow fell softly, dusting the world in white, and the air was crisp with the chill of winter. But for you, this December felt especially full of surprises—and a little mischievous fun. Your girlfriend, Paige, had been teasing you with a mysterious “secret admirer” gift exchange that started on December 1st, and by now, you were fully caught up in the game.
It all began innocently enough: A small, beautifully wrapped gift appeared on your doorstep. You opened it to reveal a soft red scarf, the perfect shade to brighten up a cold winter day. A note attached simply said, “To make your days warmer.” You smiled, knowing that Paige had a playful side, and it felt just like something she’d do. But as the days went on, the gifts became more personal and more thoughtful. The 3rd brought a cozy blanket. On the 5th, a cute snow globe. On the 7th, a pair of fluffy socks that matched your style. Each one had a little note, each one a flirtatious tease.
By the time you hit December 12th, you were certain that Paige was behind it all. Her playful hints, the way the gifts reflected your tastes—there was no way it wasn’t her. You were thrilled and amused by it all. The mystery was exciting. But when you received another gift on the 14th—this one, a hand-knitted sweater—you knew Paige was stepping up her game.
But December 20th, the day before your team’s away game, brought even more confusion. You were in your hotel room with the rest of the team, preparing for the upcoming game when another gift arrived at your doorstep. You opened it quickly, expecting another thoughtful piece, and this time you found set of lingerie, a soft lavender. It wasn’t from Paige—was it? You still didn’t know, but now you were getting frustrated by the mystery. Had the gifts taken a wrong turn somewhere?
You decided it was time to talk to Paige about it, but there was no opportunity. The team was leaving for a series of games, and you were all holed up in a hotel for a few days. With a little time to kill before the evening’s game, you tried to ignore the strange gifts piling up, but your mind kept drifting back to them, trying to connect the dots.
The day of the game arrived, and the mystery surrounding the lingerie gift only deepened. You could feel your curiosity building. But before you could bring it up, you got another surprise. Paige wasn’t there when you returned to your room after the game, and there, on your bed, was a package. Another beautifully wrapped gift. You opened it to find a another set of lingerie. This one, a deep wine-red, more elaborate than the others, with delicate lace details. Your stomach did a flip.
You froze for a second before reading the attached note: “For when you’re ready. Merry Christmas.” It was signed with a small heart, the handwriting that didnt look fully like Paige’s. Your heart skipped a beat. The note sent a clear message—this was something more intimate, something that meant more than just a playful joke.
As you sat there holding the gift, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, but confusion clouded your mind. Was this part of a larger surprise? Or was it a mistake in the grand plan? You were starting to feel overwhelmed and unsure of how to approach Paige with this gift.
“Hey, I got another gift from my secret admirer,” you said lightly, trying to gauge her reaction. Playing a cat and mouse game with her had to be one of the best aspects of your relationship
Paige's eyes narrowed almost immediately, a slight flicker of confusion crossing her face. She didnt sent you your gift today…atleast not yet…“Another one? What did they send this time?” Her voice was tight, and you could tell she wasn’t as playful as usual.
You hesitated for a moment before showing her the lingerie. “This came today… from my secret admirer.” You grinned, waiting for her reaction. But instead of a teasing smile, Paige’s face turned red with frustration.
“What the hell is this?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly. “I did not send this. Who the fuck sent you this? She paced in frustration, her hand rubbing her temples. 
You blinked, a little stunned by her outburst. “Wait, what do you mean? You didn’t send it?”
“No!” she snapped. “I mean, i sent the others and I had a plan, and it wasn’t supposed to go like this. This wasn’t my idea! I don’t even want to know who did this, but clearly, someone is messing with me, and I’m pissed.”
You were taken aback by how upset she was. You had expected teasing and maybe some playful jealousy, but not this level of frustration. “Okay, so you didn’t do it. Who do you think it is?”
Paige took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I don’t know. Maybe the team? They’ve been way too interested in my secret admirer game. I’ll bet they’re behind this.”
You frowned. “So, the lingerie…?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Paige muttered, her face flushed with both anger and embarrassment. “I had something sweet planned for you, not… this mess.” She glanced over at the lingerie, then back at you. “But now? I’ll make them pay. I’ll find out who did this, and when I do, they’re going to regret it.”
You sat there, still processing the sudden change in tone. “What are you going to do?” you asked, half-amused, half-nervous.
Paige smirked, her anger quickly turning to a devious grin. “Oh, I’m not going to let them off easy. I’ll make them pay for messing with my plans.”
The next day, you were all gathered at the hotel, preparing for the evening game, when Paige finally confronted the team. They were lounging in the lobby, clearly relaxed from their day off, when she stormed up to them, her eyes narrowed with determination.
“Alright, which one of you idiots thought it’d be funny to send my girlfriend lingerie?” Paige demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.
The team members exchanged confused glances, trying to figure out if she was joking or genuinely angry. One of them, kk , raised her hand sheepishly. “Yeah, uh, sorry. We thought it would be funny.”
Paige’s eyes darkened. “Oh, it was funny, huh?” She smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “Well, i can do something funny too.”
The team members laughed nervously, clearly unsure of what was coming. “What do you mean?”
Paige’s grin only widened. “You’ll see.”
Later that night, after the game had ended and everyone was winding down, Paige led you into her room. “I got my payback,” she said, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “And you won’t believe how. Let’s just say, they won’t forget this for a while.”
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How so?”
Paige walked over to you, her eyes full of affection and something darker—playful and a little wicked. “Let’s just say they’ll be hearing of you tonight,” she whispered, before pulling you close and kissing you deeply.
She moved down to kissing your neck and sheds you of your clothes leaving you bare in front of her.. After she asks you to change into the lingerie that the team has so graciously given you. 
Once you emerge from the bathroom she stares at you with a mix of hunger and a wicked as a small smile forms on her mouth. “You’ll help me with my prank won’t you honey” she says forming hickies on your neck, and rubbing the soft flesh of your breasts through the lace making my npples peak. “ I- umm do you think the team-” I was cut off with my own gasp as paige starts to rub the little nub of my clit. Whimpers fill the room as I try to be quiet and considerate to the team members in the hotel room next door. Little did I know thats what paige wanted. 
She takes the hand that clamps over my mouth and the one that bunches her shirt and holds them in one hand of her own proving how bigger she is than me. My knees buckle as she shoves two fingers into my heat moving back and forth a couple time before she picks me up by the back of my thighs and throws me on the bed.
The next few hours passed in a blur of lovemaking and teasing moments between you and Paige. It was a Christmas to remember. When the team finally found out what Paige had done to get her revenge, they all knew better than to ever mess with her again. But it was clear: Paige had won this round—and she had made sure to end it with, a playful victory, and a promise that the best gifts were yet to come.
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I do not usually write smut so i apologize for this....
-Caty Writes
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go-go-devil · 6 months ago
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I still really love the reveal that The Pink Opaque was always a show meant for much younger kids as opposed to the teen action show we're first presented with, but mostly due to how well the film tricks us into seeing it the way Owen & Maddie saw it.
Really it's so painfully obvious right from the get go that this is a kids show: Maddie defensively stating that its "too scary for kids" despite being on a young adult channel, the first episode we see having a plot revolving around wishing the ice cream man delivered ice cream all year long, the show's villains having very cutesy names, Isabelle & Tara's pink ghost tattoos being very cartoony, etc.
Yet we the audience see the Ice Cream Man as a grotesque monster with far more disturbing practical effects than the very low-budget real version. We see all the characters appearing older than they actually are. We see dark, dramatic themes of being trapped in a false identity slowly poisoned from the inside in the final episode only because by that point we've become JUST as personally invested in the show as our main characters do.
Upon getting to the reveal that what we saw wasn't actually a Buffy the Vampire Slayer kind of show but actually more along the level of Goosebumps, we end up questioning our memories of the show just as Owen did seeing it again after all those years because it seems so unreal! How can we possibly deny all the intense, compelling drama we just witnessed?!
One might call this a commentary on how nostalgia can blind us to a show's actual quality as we grow older, but personally I see it more as how one's attachment to a show can end up LITERALLY changing it into something else entirely.
Now I never watched Buffy and can't relate to all the references the film gives to it, but as someone who frequently watched My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic as a teen despite not at all being the target audience I can heavily relate to what Owen and Maddie saw in The Pink Opaque.
It didn't matter that the show wasn't actually as intense and well-written as they thought, what mattered was that the show gave them EXACTLY what they needed at that time in their life. Owen saw herself in Isabelle, just as Maddie found her true self through her love for Tara. It allowed the pair to bond and form a real fulfilling friendship during hard times. Their warped memories of the show aren't stupid, they stem from what happens when a piece of art has such a profound effect on us to the point where it ends up shaping our very lives!
The Pink Opaque was never a groundbreaking show with any ounce of queer themes in its narrative, but it helped Owen realize she was trans, and in the end that's all that really matters. 💖👻
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adventures-in-mangaland · 2 months ago
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Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs Part 6
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Sorry its been a while, last month was crazy! Not too crazy for my emotional support fandom, though! You guys are giving me life. So please have another fic rec list. :)
We two boys together clinging by Aliquis
Charles and Edwin explore their romantic and sexual hangups and also help Crystal search for Niko. This fic has everything: excellent writing, developing relationship, rituals, first time, Beltane, a hot priest. This is already a fandom classic and now I've finally read it, I can confirm it's very good! Read the rest of the series too!
The stranger the better by ghostinthelibrary
Everyone's alive and basically the supernatural version of the Men in Black. I love the whole series, but this installment has the boys' first meeting, Edwin insisting he doesn't need a new partner, office gossip and an intriguing case. The prequel also has palasaki and background catwin! Anyway, I'm obsessed with this AU.
Partridge in a Pear Tree by Vamillepudding
Cinderella AU! Charles is basically a Disney Princess and Edwin is Secretly The Prince, it's wonderful. I also loved the worldbuilding and nods to old school Cinderella lore, like the gift-giving tree. So charming, highly recommended.
Wunderkammer by dear_monday, two_ravens
Edwin and Charles (and later Crystal) are functionally immortal and running a magical museum. This fic has a fantastic sense of place (the Athenaeum is a character in its own right) and an intriguingly gothic horror vibe with its sentient exhibits, doors into other planes and unnerving nonchalance about disappearing staff and guests. I would probably die, but I would absolutely go there.
pinch me (I don't want this to be a dream) by shadowquill17
The pince-nez fic! Charles finds a pair of glasses that show him a person's desires. Then he looks at Edwin. It goes about as well as you'd expect. It was inspired by this wonderful comic by technically-human so check that out too!
Let Me Follow by LikeMmmCookies
Time loop fic! The boys get trapped in Crystal's mind, replaying the day of Charles' death. Only Edwin is the New Boy in school and he's alive... Fantastic concept, so intriguing. Plus Crystal being a badass, The Sandman crossovers and Niko!
Oaths of the Forsworn by e_va
Vampire AU! The boys meet while Charles is dying so Vampire!Edwin agrees to turn him. The story is ongoing, but so far it's been focusing on Charles coping with being a fledgling vampire. Compelling.
lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate by KiaraSayre
Edwin is in Hell. Or is he? Fabulous writing, Hell worldbuilding and gut-wrenching detail. Cw for body horror and torture.
'Cause You Cut Through All the Noise by DontOffendTheBees
Edwin doms Charles in a therapeutic and non-sexual way. That's it and it's great. I loved this for its exploration of intimacy, trust and kink.
Instructions on Being by thewritingotter
Everyone is Alive Modern AU based on an AITA post featuring Charles convincing himself he's homophobic when he realizes he hates Edwin dating other men. It sounds like a funny premise, but really brings the angst and poignancy.
in an alternate timeline's light by plentyghost
Charles finds comics!Edwin hiding in the office. Sweet.
Become So Numb by snowkatze
AU where the Night Nurse doesn't help Charles and Edwin spends another 50 years in Hell. Loved Edwin's mechanism for escape, kind-of-dark Charles and the angsty reunion.
unidentified affectionate object by lyres
Edwin is struck by a curse that manifests his feelings as random objects. Good thing Charles isn't also effected... Very cute with mild angst and a happy ending.
between you and me, suddenly something is on my mind by lolotr
Beach episode! A proper one. Just fun, friendship and emotional support. Plus Edwin in an Edwardian swimming costume, complete with a handy visual aid.
Other Types of Intimacy by Asidian
After a tough case, Edwin takes care of Orb!Charles. (Chorb? Is this chorbwin?) I guess I have a thing for non-sexual intimacy. Seriously, though, what could be more beautiful than someone cuddling your soul?
(black is the colour) of my true love's hair by ObsessedWithFandom
Charles has long hair: the fic. Interesting ghost lore with Charles' hair kind of working like his mood-ring polo and growing when he's happy. And this is an established relationship payneland fic, so lately he's been very happy. 😜 Honestly, as a child of the 80s, Charles deserves to have long hair. I need more fanart!
@ghostinthelibrarywrites @shadowquill17 @tumblerislovetumblerislife @lolotr @technically-human @dont-offend-the-bees @neurodivergent-fangirling @fishy-lava @many-gay-magpies @cordelia-noir @whatthehorsedoicallthisblog @shazziez @extremely-eager-reader @atariakana @tragedy-machine @guardianspirits13 @colourmornings @herebehunters @dearheartdont @avoiceofnerat @littlepocketuniverse @overlord-of-chaos @fairandfatalasfair @handwrittenhello @every-moment-a-different-sound
I've added some tags for people who left fun tags/comments on previous lists. Let me know if you'd like me to add you on the next one. :)
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another-lost-mc · 1 year ago
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candy prompts: leviathan + spicy + spooky
leviathan is your biggest fan. he doesn't realize that you're his biggest fan too.
pairing: leviathan x siren!gn!reader
content: nsfw. monster!au (reader is a siren). leviathan has two cocks. implied oral sex (levi receiving).
word count: 1k omg how did this happen
a/n: I like to imagine that aquatic races of the devildom worship and totally want to bang the grand admiral.
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This isn't the way tonight's backstage meet & greet with one of his favourite idols was supposed to go.
Levi bought the most exclusive package as soon as the pre-sale link arrived in his Dmail. On the day of the concert, he put on a t-shirt featuring your logo, and he even shrugged on the new zip-up hoodie that he bought in the VIP section before the show. He waited in line with the other backstage pass holders so he could get an autograph and photo with you. Some of the lust demons in line ahead of him were radiating pheromones so strongly that it made his mind groggy, and he shook his head to dissipate the fog of giddy excitement that permeated the air around him.
When it was finally his turn to see you, the other fans had already been escorted away by security. He glanced at you nervously from under the hood he pulled over his head to conceal his identity; it wasn't a secret that the Avatar of Envy was a fan of Devildom's top idols, but he didn't like the unwanted attention from randoms in the crowd.
He handed you his poster and backstage pass to sign and he hoped the tremor in his hands wasn't too noticeable. The black marker squeaked against the thick paper and plastic. You smiled at all your other fans earlier, but even from his place at the back of the line, Levi thought your smile looked forced and insincere. He would know-he's forced that same expression on his own face countless times.
"Th-thanks," he mumbled when you handed him his autographed merch. He cradled them delicately in his arms so that they wouldn't get wrinkled or torn.
"Fans can get a selfie too," you reminded him with a gentle smile. "But maybe we can find a nicer backdrop than this grungy hallway. What do you say?"
Levi glanced around nervously. The security crew that loitered in the area earlier had vanished. There was something enticing about the teasing glint in your eyes but he blinked and the look was gone. He took a deep breath, not realizing how close he was standing to you. When did you get so close? The scent of your fragrance and sweat was staggering and he forced himself to stand still and avoid the temptation to lean even closer. He hesitated for only a moment before nodding.
You beamed wildly and grabbed his hand; he gulped as your fangs tipped over the curve of your lips. "Perfect," you purred before leading him down a dark hallway. "My dressing room is this way."
You were kind enough to take his precious memorabilia and set them down safely before shoving him against your dressing room door. Your lips crashed against his while your hands reached into his sweat-slicked hair. You slid the hood down and cradled his jaw so you could tease the skin of his neck with your fingernails. He broke the kiss with a gasp, and you didn't hesitate to slip your tongue into his mouth and flick it against his before pulling back with a very satisfied smirk.
"I recognized you the moment you stood in line," you admitted, voice quivering with excitement, glassy-eyed and pupils blown wide. "The Avatar of Envy, the Grand Admiral himself, coming to see me perform? I'm flattered."
Levi stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Maybe he was seeing the real you for the first time, the version none of your other fans knew existed. In the privacy of your dressing room you could finally be yourself. The magic that concealed your oceanic heritage slid off you like a veil and revealed your secrets to the demon you worshipped like a god. He was entranced. When he licked his lips to chase the taste of your kiss, it reminded him of salt water and the ocean breeze.
You preened under his curious scrutiny, satisfied that he was captivated by you as much as you were of him. When you realized you had his silent approval to continue, you unzipped his sweater and pushed it down his arms. It fell into a heap on the floor at his feet, but he didn't seem to care.
By the time you settled on your knees before him, the delicate pattern of pearlescent scales replaced your once-smooth skin and frilly gills appeared on the sides of your neck. You gazed at him innocently, your third eyelid blinking quickly over your lovestruck eyes as you nuzzled against the bulge in his jeans. Dainty fingers with long nails flicked open the button at his waistband. You bit your bottom lip between rows of jagged teeth and eagerly tugged down the short zipper next. Both his cocks sprung free when you slid his boxers down. He was panting heavily above you, and you licked your lips with a forked tongue, smirking when his eyes followed the movement.
"I've wanted to meet you in person for so long, sir," you whispered reverently. His cocks twitched when your lips imbued his title with just a hint of lust, and you couldn't resist the urge to touch him anymore. You kissed the tip of one of his cocks and smeared precum across your mouth with a satisfied hum, lapping at the salty taste as your mouth watered, eager for another taste. One of your hands curled delicately around the other cock and squeezed him lightly in your grip. He moaned loudly when your webbed fingers began stroking him in a soft, slick rhythm.
"I think I might be your biggest fan," you confessed in a breathy whisper before closing your eyes and finally taking his cock into your mouth.
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read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist
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stayteezdreams · 8 months ago
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Finding out BF!TXT are Supernatual Creatures {scenarios}
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Scenarios: Finding out your boyfriend is a supernatural creature
Pairings: Soobin x Gn!Reader; Yeonjun x Gn!Reader; Beomgyu x Gn!Reader; Taehyun x Gn!Reader; and Huening Kai x Gn!Reader
{Stray Kids Version} {Ateez Version}
Warnings: n/a
Requested by: @otakutrash669
A/n: Not me low-key wanting to write full-fics about some of these (mainly Soobin and Yeonjun's)??? There are probably a lot of stories and myths surrounding the Imugi, so I went with one that fit my personal narrative for these headcanons
Words: 2k
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Soobin (Fallen-Angel):
Soobin was a guardian Angel who fell by choice.
He wanted to live as a human so he left his duties as a Guardian Angel, but once mortal still had remnant powers.
When he met you, he was drawn to you and felt as though he needed to protect you.
It turns out you were one of his destined souls to protect, but you were left alone when he chose to become human.
He decided to keep an eye on you, and accidentally met you when he saved you from being side-swiped by a car.
You ended up becoming friends, and Soobin ended up falling for you fairly quickly after that.
Not long into your relationship, Soobin decided to tell you about his past and what he was.
You obviously thought he was joking, but he proved it with one of his powers (teleportation).
You were stunned but in awe.
He expected you to feel betrayed or scared, but you weren't.
You trusted him, even after he told you he abandoned you when he became human.
"But you came back to me."
"Yes, I did."
He showed you the rest of his powers, and told you many stories of his life as an Angel.
You become somewhat withdrawn after some time and Soobin grew worried.
After pressing you for answers, you admitted that you felt unworthy of his love after learning about what he was and what he had experienced.
But he reassured you he loved you more than anything and found himself to be the unworthy one.
"I have never been drawn to someone like this. I have never loved as deeply."
You started referring to him as Angel, which to others was just a cute pet-name, but to you two was an inside joke and secret.
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Yeonjun (Fox/Familiar):
Surprise! You are secretly a witch, you just don't know it!
The only person who does is Yeonjun.
You met Yeonjun one day when he just showed up at your work place.
He started to linger and you often caught him watching you. You thought he was handsome and mysterious.
Slowly he started to talk to you, and you became friends, but not for long before he asked you on a date. Your relationship grew from there and you started dating.
When you started to spend more time at each others houses, you started to pick up on odd things.
Things you needed or wanting suddenly being nearby. Flickering lights when you get upset.
Yeonjun somehow always knowing when you needed help.
Not to mention a fox you noticed lingering in your yard a lot, who seems to watch you.
"I think I'm being haunted."
"Or maybe its something else."
"Like what?"
"Magic."
You started to think Yeonjun knew something you didn't and grew suspicious.
He began noticing you growing uneasy and figured it was time to tell you.
But one day, it all came to a head when you woke up to find everything in your room floating, including you.
You and all of the objects fell to the ground and you called Yeonjun in fear.
When he appeared faster than humanly possible, you knew he had to know what was going on.
So he explained.
He was a familiar without a witch, and one day he sensed your magic trapped in your body and wanted to help you find it.
He explained everything, and how he had slowly been using his own abilities to draw the magic out of you.
You were confused, and took this as him tricking you, fearing he was only with you for the use of your magic, and that he didn't actually have feelings for you.
Yeonjun admitted that at first he had no feelings for you, but wanted to get closer to your magic.
A familiar without a witch often felt useless and alone, and their magic increases once they bond with a witch.
But he had truly fallen for you early on, and wanted to be with you while helping you to discover your magic.
You weren't sure what to do, so you asked him for some space.
A week passed and you had come to terms with your newfound abilities, and were curious to learn more.
You also found that you missed Yeonjun, even if you weren't sure you could trust him.
But you accepted that he was the only one who could help you. So you reached out.
He was happy and enthusiastic, but you told him you still needed time to decide if you wanted to be with him romantically.
He understood, though was saddened by this.
So, he waiting, while he helped you to discover your magic and acted as your teacher and familiar.
You knew your feelings for him were still prevalent, as were his.
Eventually you gave in and accepted you wanted to be with him.
He was relieved and ecstatic, and promised he would never keep anything from you again.
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Beomgyu (Imugi):
The Imugi is a large magical water Serpent, that after 1000 years can choose to become a full-fledged dragon.
However, there was one, who chose to become human instead.
When Beomgyu finally did become human, he adapted very quickly.
You met at school, and thought he was a bit odd, but cute.
He often seemed to be unaware of many simple or well-known things. And often asked a lot of questions.
He told you he had just been sheltered his whole life and you took his word for it. Not asking too any questions for fear of bringing up painful memories.
Yet at the same time, he knew about niche things you had never imagine he would know about.
You became friends and then after a few years, gave into your feelings.
The two of you had only been dating for a short time when Beomgyu decided to tell you what he was.
You thought he was just making a weird joke, but the more time that passed and he didn't reveal it was a joke the more you grew uncertain.
Was he secretly a bit crazy? Was his past more "sheltered" than you thought? Or was he telling the truth?
The last option seemed the craziest of them all, but he proved it to you by showing you the remnants of his past serpent-nature.
Meaning, he grew horns and scales appeared across his cheeks, chest and hands.
You were startled and speechless and he was afraid he scared you.
Honestly you were a bit afraid, but not necessarily of him.
Your world had suddenly been changed in the span of a few seconds, and now you knew magic creatures like serpents and dragons existed.
Once the pure astonishment wore away, you grew curious and exited.
And Beomgyu was more than happy to tell you all about the world he was from. Magic, creatures, and immortality.
He made you promise to keep his secret, which you of course agreed too. Though you sometimes wished you could brag about your magical boyfriend to someone.
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Taehyun (Vampire):
So many people on your college campus were attracted to Kang Taehyun.
He was mysterious, attractive, and had an air about him no one could really describe.
He was often called the Siren of the campus.
But, there was only one person he was attracted to. You.
You were weary of him, uncertain if you should trust someone like him.
He could sense this so he was cautious in approaching you, befriending you slowly and delicately.
Eventually you gave into his advances and started to hang around him more.
You learned that he was much kinder and softer than he appeared on the outside.
He was upfront about his growing feelings for you, and though you did not mention your own, you felt the same.
Eventually, just as you did before, you gave in and accepted you had fallen for him.
As your relationship grew, you started to become aware that he was hiding something from you. But you weren't sure what exactly.
Taehyun himself, had begun growing restless.
He wasn't expecting his feelings for you to become so strong. He began wanting a future with you, and the more he realized this was impossible, the more conflicted he became.
Eventually, he grew distant, pulling away, and inevitably breaking it off with you suddenly.
Your heart was broken and you needed to know why but he would not tell you.
One day, when doing a research project for your history class, you were going through past yearbooks of your college. A name caught your eye. Kang Taehyun.
Finding the matching photo you were stunned to see he had not only the same name but the same face as your now ex-boyfriend.
The photo was from over 50 years prior. Was it Taehyun's father? Or maybe grandfather?
The more you thought about it, the more you realized you knew nothing of Taehyuns family apart from a few short stories.
You started to put things together in your mind, and as crazy as you thought you might be, you needed to know.
So you found Taehyun, placed the photo in front of him and waited for him to explain.
He knew he could give you excuses, make something up, but he missed you, and hated how he hurt you. So he gave in and told you the truth.
He didn't need to prove it for you to believe him.
Taehyun explained that he didn't think his interest in you would become what he felt was true love, but he knew you couldn't be together forever unless he turned you or watched as you grew old and die.
You talked for a long time and after some time decide to be together, Taehyun knew he would rather be with you than leave you behind.
He left the choice to you if you would let him turn you, or if you would stay with him for as long as you could, mortal and immortal.
The choice is yours.
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Huening Kai (Fairy):
Everything about your relationship with Kai was normal.
He was sweet and beautiful and he thought the same of you.
You always knew there was something ethereal about him but you figured it was just your imagination and his general vibe.
So what if animals seemed to never be afraid of him? And the fact that sunlight seems to sparkle on his skin.
So what if you sometimes saw him out of the corner of your eye and thought he had wings, or some type of halo aura surrounding him. It was just your mind playing tricks.
You called him your Disney Prince and he thought it was cute, but you always noticed a peculiar twinkle in is eye when you talked about these things it him.
One day, when you caught him off guard, you found him standing out in the sun, and the wings sprouting from his back were definitely not your imagination.
You stared at him in awe, watching as the sunlight seemed to absorb into his skin.
When he finally noticed you, everything surrounding him disappeared in a second, as if he shut a light off.
You were stunned, speechless, confused.
He approached you cautiously, afraid to frighten you or freak you out.
He was not expecting you to snap back into reality with a loud "I KNEW IT"
You were relieved to no longer be plague with the thoughts that something was wrong with you. And amazed to know you had been dating a....well, whatever he was.
After asking, Kai explained. He was the son of a fairy and a human. Mortal, but magical.
He shared his history with you, and his magic, and the struggles he had always keeping it from you.
He was warned to keep it a secret, told to by his parents to keep him safe. But he loved you, and wanted you to know, but wasn't sure when or how to tell you.
No that you found out he was relieved he didn't have to hide it anymore.
You ended up meeting with his parents and discussing everything, and you promised that you would never tell his secret, and you would help keep it and him safe.
Thought a bit cautious, his parents finally accepted it, and allowed you to stay with him.
Kai does not quite like his knew nickname 'Fairy Princess' as much as his previous one though.
xx
General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson, @pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop
TxT Taglist: @thunderous-wolf, @briqnne, @crazyformfics Yeonjun & Soobin: @hongjoongsprincess, @dear-dreamie, Yeonjun: @ye0nvibezzn
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bamboozledbird · 4 months ago
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IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 5 / Next
Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, ofc, omc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 10.2k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes), depictions of a panic attack, animal death Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear
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Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 
You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.
Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?
Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?
Chapter Summary: You start to unravel some of the secrets hidden in Beacon Hill's other world, and Stiles manages to worm his way into discovering some of your own. 
A/N: this took a minute, so i hope the length makes up for it! comments and reblogs are love, and i am tinkerbell. also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!
Tag list: @eaterof-concrete
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Your anger fizzled with every mile you drove. By the time you finished your third loop around the Preserve, it was just a light simmer of irritation. The void was quickly filled with a different emotion: curiosity. There was a little dread in there too, perhaps also a touch of nausea, but the concoction was still potent enough to distract you from your...whatever that was with Lydia. Now that you were alone, trees blurring together in a ribbon of yellowing-green through your dash, all you could think about was the fire Derek’s family died in. Well, that, and another fire that was always lurking somewhere in your mind, hiding in the shadows, just waiting for the chance to jump out and strangle your heart. 
Beacon Hills was a small town. A town where, until very recently, bad things hardly ever happened. What were the chances of two houses going up in flames four years apart? Of two houses burning down to the foundation in the blink of an eye? Of two homes becoming charred rubble and chilling memorials to the lives lost inside? As far as you knew, they were the only unnatural fires that’d occurred in Beacon Hills in the last century. 
It could all be a coincidence, of course. Nothing. Just a delusional, grief-driven conspiracy. It would be best if you accepted that now before you fell too far down this rabbit hole. It’d taken you two years to finally realize that the police were never going to figure out what really happened to your mom, and those two years had been filled with a series of devastating misdirections, hundreds of dashed hopes and unanswered prayers to a god you no longer believed in. You knew better than this. You did. You knew better than to hope. 
But…maybe. Maybe there was something there. If there was an elaborate plot afoot, you knew just the right conspiracy nut to turn to.
The last time you believed in magic, you were six. You had run the entire mile-and-a-half to Maggie’s dad’s store, hands bloody and cupped into a small nest. You’d almost choked on your quiet, congested whimpers, but after a few minutes of blubbering, you’d finally managed to spit out a few words, “You know how to fix him, right? You know everything.” There had to be a spell, you’d thought, with all the wisdom of a first-grade education. There had to be some magic flower or special potion that could make everything better. 
You hadn’t noticed the look on Maggie’s face when you finally opened your fingers, but Maggie had to have been panicking once she saw exactly what needed to be fixed—cradled in your palms, was a tiny, twitching field mouse you’d found on your way home from school. His little chest had heaved so slowly as he laid limply in your hands, as if he’d already accepted his fate. You’d been so young then, too young to realize that Maggie was only nineteen and faked her confidence more often than she felt it. Nineteen had seemed so old at six, and now it was only three years away. 
Maggie had known, of course, that the poor little guy probably wouldn’t live long enough to see nightfall, but she’d made the fatal mistake of looking into your big wet eyes: still so full of hope and belief in the impossible. Instead of telling you the truth, she’d just said, “I got this," and took the mouse to the backroom—where all the magic happened. You never ended up seeing the mouse again. You realized now that probably meant he died, but you appreciated Maggie letting you live in the land of make-believe for just a little while longer. 
But that was ten years ago. Today, you knew that Mags was only mortal and Willowbark couldn’t actually heal fatal rodent wounds—but you were still hoping, against all hopes, that Maggie actually had the answers this time. 
“Mags?” your brow crinkled as you searched for Maggie and her wild curls. Mags often got lost in the midst of all the chaos, just a small blip in a crowded collection of odd, Victorian-esque relics. You could usually spot at least a glimpse of whatever loud color Maggie was sporting that day. The yellows and pinks were always stark against the dingy backdrop, but today the only colors you could see from the front door were varying shades of sage, oxblood, and charcoal. “Maggie?”
A muffled cry sounded from the storeroom, “Back here.”
The door to the backroom was slightly ajar, and the purple lighting from the mini-greenhouse inside spilled through the crack. It cast a mesmerizing strip of dayglow lavender over the dangly earrings and mood rings for sale next to the register. “Bring me the shears, will you? The pink ones by Giz.”
You dropped your backpack behind the glass counter and drifted towards the sounds of Gizmo’s trumpeting snores. The stretch for the pruning scissors was a bit precarious; the little prince was batting his paws at something in the depths of dreamland and had no presence of mind for your fragile skin. You snagged the shears with minimal carnage and ran your finger along the cool edge, staring at the gleaming surface, “You’re into all local history, right? Not just the made-up stuff?”
Maggie took the shears from your lax hands and squatted next to the potted yew tree on the floor. It was just starting to blossom, red berries dotted sparsely around the spiky leaves—ripe for whatever ridiculous offering Maggie had planned. Maggie blew a ringlet out of her face and fixed you with a stern frown, “My ancestors were witches, and Dragons absolutely did exist. Just look at ‘dinosaur’ fossils from the—”
“Do you know anything about the fire the Hale family died in?” you looked down at your hands so that you didn’t have to see Maggie’s reaction. 
You traced circles around a rosy stain on Maggie’s workbench, likely from ground flower petals or dripping pomegranate seeds, shoulders hunching towards your ears as you continued, “I mean, you’re around the same age as the older sister, right?” Laura. You couldn’t bring yourself to say her name, and the hypocrisy was stifling. You hated when people tiptoed around death, when they used pretty euphemisms like that could make what actually happened any less brutal. Less evil. Less unfair. But there was no softening grief. Death. Murder. There was no candy coat sweet enough to cloak the taste of rotting—and yet, you still couldn’t say her name.
Maggie went still briefly and then continued clipping branches, ignoring or not noticing the couple of leaves stuck to her fuzzy sweater. “Why?”
You gritted your teeth and stared a burl in the wood underneath your fingers, “Why do you think?”
Sighing, Maggie spread her clippings across the maple worktop and picked at a few yellowing leaves, “Where is this coming from, babe? I mean, that was a long time ago. I’m almost thirty, you know—ancient by most standards.”
You didn’t smile. Couldn’t. “Do you know anything or not?”
“No,” Maggie sounded genuine, but she kept her eyes on the red stains underneath her fingernails, “nothing more than what was on the news.”
The fact that Maggie didn’t make a quip or a stupid pun was even more telling than her refusal to look in your direction. You folded your arms over your chest and leaned your hip against the doorframe, “Sure.”
“Are you okay, babe?” Maggie wiped the berry residue off on her skirt, and the long hem swished around her ankles as she crept towards you. Her hand was cautious when she placed it on your rigid shoulder, “You aren’t skipping your meds again, are—”
Your eyes flashed as you shook off Maggie’s light touch with a jerk of your shoulder, “Is it possible for me to have a single feeling without everyone jumping down my throat about my meds.”
“I just worry,” Maggie said softly, and she reached for you again, waiting for you to pull away. She tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear when you didn’t. Your limbs were still stiff, and your face was still stony, but you let Maggie grab your hand. It was slightly sweaty, probably from all the indoor-gardening, but there was some comfort in the circles she smoothed over your knuckles. “You know I’m a worrier. Comes with the conspiracy theorist in me.”
You looked down at your feet and dug your toes into the concrete floor, “And my mom’s dying wish—I know.”
A bit of hurt quivered in the corners of Maggie’s reassuring smile, even though she tried her best to hide it, “That’s not the reason I do it.”
Your entire frame slumped with guilt, “I know.” And you did; you did know. You made Maggie drive you to the library every weekend before you got your license, and in return Maggie stole about a dozen of your sweaters once she realized you were finally the same size—Mags wasn’t just your mom’s weird friend from the neighborhood; she was family. She taught you how to make pie crust and scones, and she always read ‘happily ever after’ in the lines of your palms when you needed something to smile about. Maggie did a million little things for you without any appreciation, and you tried to remember every single one as you sat on the floor in front of the ‘Local Culture’ shelf.
Your nose scrunched as you looked over the titles on the spines, searching for anything that sounded even remotely real. Maggie knelt next to you, patch-work skirt billowing around her knees, and watched your fingers drum against the floor. 
“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” Maggie bumped your shoulder with her own, and you grunted a little response.
“Nothing you can help me with.” Evidently, you thought with only a bit of bitterness. 
Maggie didn’t say anything for a long time. You almost forgot she was there, and then her bracelets clacked together as she shifted. “Here,” Maggie pulled a thick journal out of the depths of her baggy cardigan and held it out with a complicated expression on her face—something halfway between a frown and a smile, “I think you’ll find this one particularly interesting.”
You looked down at the title and rubbed your thumb over the engraved font, “‘A History and Detailed Account of Beacon Hills Bloodlines’?” 
Maggie nodded and shoved her hands into her skirt pockets, “Goes back all the way to the beginning—not literally, obviously. I don’t think they wanted to get into the whole ‘God vs. Big Bang’ debate, but it dates back to when the town was founded.”
“That’s…interesting, I guess,” you flipped through the pages and bit down on your tongue to squash the sneer curling across your lips. It was a nice gesture. You knew that—but what else were you supposed to do when the ‘History’ and ‘Detailed Account’ fell open to an artistic diagram of 'local werewolf packs’ genealogy lines. You were a little interested to see if the names were entirely fictional, or if the journal was an accurate record of Beacon Hill’s very own Werewolf Trials. Probably the first, you’d remember learning about extra hairy men and women being burned at the stake in social studies. 
Maggie huffed out a little laugh and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I know you won’t believe everything in there, but who knows,” she shrugged and held out a hand for you to grab onto, “maybe you’ll finally be enlightened.”
You took her hand and hummed, “While you’re feeling so generous and bad for me ‘cause I’m functionally an orphan, could I get some more of that wolfsbane gunk?” You batted your lashes over the edge of the leather cover and grinned your most adorable smile—the one that dusted off a rare view of your dimples, “It can be my birthday present.”
It was an obvious ploy, but Maggie just laughed and poked one of your dimples, “Your birthday is months away.”
You picked up the speed of your blinking, approaching butterfly-wing territory, and rocked onto your tiptoes, “An early birthday present is still a birthday present.” 
Mags watched you through narrowed eyes for a moment, “You don’t even believe in werewolves.”
You shrugged and smirked, “It works on humans too.” 
“Please, please don’t make me an accessory to murder.” Maggie gripped your shoulders and shook you a little, fighting a smile, “I would not fare well in prison. They limit your internet privileges there—no Wi-Fi, babe. No Wi-Fi. I would be completely alone with my thoughts.”
“The horror,” your eyes glittered with your grin, and for a sweet moment you forgot about the journal in your hands and all the questions it wouldn’t answer. “It’s not for me,” you admitted, grimacing as Maggie’s lips puckered. The pursing of her lips, the hollowing of her cheeks—that always came before a very long and arduous inquisition. Maggie could be relentless when she wanted to be. 
“And whom would you be giving such a precious gift to?” The thickness of her brows only magnified the suspicion in Maggie’s tapered expression, “A gift you called—what was it? ‘Useless’ and ‘stupid’ less than 24-hours ago?”  
“Just because I think it’s stupid, doesn’t mean it’s a bad gift for someone else. I thought the Sonic Chia Pet I gave you was stupid, and you loved it.” You knew you won when Maggie started walking away from you towards the storeroom. You still had no idea how Curio Killed the Cat stayed in business when Maggie handed out inventory like candy, but presently its troubling business model was a blessing in disguise.
“Don’t disparage him,” Maggie crooned over her shoulder, “it’s bad luck.”
“If everything is sacred, nothing is,” you sniped, doing your best Vulcan impression.
Maggie smiled brightly as she hopped over the counter, sticking out her tongue, “I don’t think everything is sacred—just all the things I like.”
Speaking of things Maggie liked—you tucked your first gift under your armpit and held out your hands, palms cupped together. Your mouth curved into a cheesy grin as you said, “Trick-or-Treat.”
Maggie rolled her eyes, but her puckish spark dwindled when she looked at the vile of wolfsbane. It was balanced between her thumb and forefinger, glass reflecting the light, and you felt a bit like you were accepting the One Ring and a quest you weren't prepared for. “Be careful, okay?” Maggie hesitated before dropping the vile into your waiting hands, “I know you love Buffy, but resurrection isn’t so easy off-screen.”
You were a little startled by the concern wrinkling the corners of Maggie’s eyes. She looked almost more worried now than she did when you asked her about the Hale fire. “Like I said,” you carefully eased the wolfsbane into your corduroy skirt, “it’s not for me.”
Maggie's eyes combed over your face, searching for something, and then she sighed, “Just…don’t let anyone drag you into something stupid. I don’t care how cute he is; no boy is worth the risk of ruining your gorgeous face. It’s your money-maker, babe.” 
There was a lot to unpack in those three sentences; you didn’t even know where to begin. There was, of course, the implication that you were going to join some kind of Scooby-Doo gang that dealt wolfsbane on the side. While the thought of going ghost hunting with a pair of boys who couldn’t make it to class without tripping over their feet was, in fact, asinine…that wasn’t the part twisting stubborn knots around your ear canal. 
Your face was dragged down by a broody pout, “For your information, I’m not giving it to Stiles; it’s actually for a guy who isn’t the leading cause of pulmonary embolisms in Beacon County—and I don’t think either of them are cute.” 
That wasn’t strictly true. You did think that Scott was cute, just like you thought Gizmo was cute when he pleaded for treats. You could see the appeal of Scott McCall, why Allison liked him, but you hadn’t thought someone was cute like that in a very long time. A person generally had to actually look at people to think they were cute, and you hadn’t looked beyond forcing one foot in front of the other and your nubby nails in years. 
And as far as Stiles went…honestly, you hadn’t really considered the concept of Stiles as an actual person until Maggie had to go and imply it. You supposed, now that you were thinking about it, he had an objectively nice face: big eyes, button nose, nice jaw—but when you saw him in person, it was almost always covered with an infuriating smirk or making obnoxious sounds. You usually just wanted to shove it away from you. Sometimes, when Stiles was being particularly difficult, you even thought about flicking him right in his long-lashed, honeycomb eyes. You wondered if the Sheriff would arrest you if you— 
That’s right, your eyes rounded with the thought, Stiles is the Sheriff's son.
The recollection rang through every single one of your thoughts and echoed along the caverns of your skull, sparing you from ruminating on something far, far scarier. You were much more comfortable with deduction. 
Your brow furrowed as you pushed yourself over the counter to grab your backpack—sure that Maggie would misinterpret your impromptu exit, but too lost in through to really care—Stiles is the Sheriff's son. You forgot that sometimes. They were so different, after all, and you were certain that Stiles had broken the law at least a few times in his life, but he was. Stiles was the Sheriff's son, and he probably knew things that he shouldn’t. Things that were only kept in confidential files. Fortunately, you didn’t need to think that someone was cute to use them for information. 
“Methinks the Lady doth protest too much,” Maggie chirped. She was fiddling with her branches in the back again, picking the berries and dropping them into a little stone bowl. 
You scowled at the berries like it was their fault you were in this predicament, “Gertrude sucks.
“And yet she was correct,” Maggie tossed a berry at your forehead, and it landed dead-center on the tip of your nose, dripping a small trail of crimson juice onto your cupid’s bow. Maggie laughed until a burst of snorts consumed her giggles, and you scowled deeper as you wiped your nose clean with your sleeve.
“And yet, she’s the prime example of doing something stupid for a boy.” You made a point of flipping Maggie off before trudging towards the door.
You pushed the exit open with your shoulder—rushing to get home to your notebook and pens. Ideas had a way of slipping away from you; you liked to make them real. Tangible. Inked lines and loops that couldn’t be erased. 
Maggie cupped your cheeks before you could slither away to your car, startling you out of your head. “Don’t be Gertrude. Don’t be stupid,” Maggie said, incredibly solemn, but the twinkle of mischief in her eye ruined the 'Yoda effect'. 
You pursed your lips as your eyes flitted towards the side, “I’ll do my best to not marry my dead husband’s brother-killer.” The door swung shut behind you, cutting off the trill of Maggie’s laughter. 
You spent the rest of the night on your bed, sitting cross-legged with your notebook spread open across your lap. You tapped your pen against your knee and watched the blades on your ceiling fan spin into a fuzzy Saturn ring until your eyes watered. You were trying, and failing, to think of a way to ask Stiles for help without him making a big deal about it—contemplating if it was truly worth all the aggravation.
Sighing, you sketched random swirling lines in purple ink. They interconnected in a pretty pattern that eventually took the shape of the maze on your pendant. There was no way out of the labyrinth without breaking down a wall; it was hopeless, a path that never ended. People who entered the maze would be doomed to walk in circles until they littered the ground with their decomposing skeletons—and oh how you envied them. 
Stiles would never let it go; you were pretty damn sure of that. He would poke, and prod, and stick his upturned nose into your business until he'd thoroughly invaded your privacy and got all the answers to his meddlesome questions. He could never ju—
The sound of paper tearing dragged you out of your pitiful brooding, and you sighed. Your pen had ripped through the center of the maze. You held the page up to the light, and it shone through the hole, blinding you momentarily. 
There was no escaping the labyrinth—there was only pushing straight though. 
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You spent a lot of your time observing people lately. It wasn’t as creepy as it sounded, at least you hoped it wasn’t as creepy as it sounded. It was just…ever since Stiles dragged you back into the present—kicking, screaming, and bitching the entire way—you had been…overwhelmed by how alive everything was. It felt like so much had happened in the last four years. Everyone had gone on living while you’d hidden away in your mind and rotted in your room. 
You couldn’t put a name to the strange feeling twisting in your chest. You were angry, of course, so angry that people had the audacity to just… live, like there wasn’t a gigantic, bleeding void in the world that had yet to scar over—that might never truly close—but there was something else mixed in with the bitterness, something sweeter.
There was a certain kind of beauty, you mused, in the way they enjoyed such silly things. There was just something about the way they found joy in sparkly nail polish, and their favorite song, and a boy looking in their general direction that had you choking on a foreign warmth. Everyone had something, and it was beautiful to see people grow their worlds around the ugliness while you weren't so consumed with shrinking yours. 
Leaning back against your locker, you watched two freshmen girls walk side-by-side until a flock of tropical-scented, lip-gloss-coated sophomore girls passed them. The taller of the two trailed after them, linking arms with a blonde in the back of the pack. The shorter one watched their hair swish over their shoulders until they walked around the corner, absently tugging at a beaded bracelet on her wrist the entire time. 
In three weeks, she’d start eating lunch alone in the library, hiding in the dark book closet with outdated textbooks as her only companions. In five, they wouldn’t speak unless they had to. You gave the girl a weak smile when she accidentally made eye-contact. Sorry, babe, I read your future. You didn’t even need to see the girl’s palm. 
You pushed yourself off of your locker and shook your head a little, regrouping your thoughts as you slid into your seat next to Stiles. He looked tired. He was slumped over his desk, chin propped on his folded arms, and his eyelids hung heavily over the exhaustion coating his directionless gaze. He barely acknowledged your presence, grunting a little and nudging your foot with his. 
You hid your smile behind your English binder and turned in your seat to face him. “Hey,” you paused, bundling the meager bits and pieces of courage in your chest, and then said, “your perpetual nosiness—that extends to your dad too, right?”
Stiles’s head lulled to the side, cheek pressed against his folded arms, evidently too drained to sit-up. He trailed his squinted gaze over your face, eyes hooded and unblinking, “Why?”
“No reason.” You drummed your pencil against your desk and watched the long red arrow tick forward on the clock above the whiteboard. Stiles watched you fidget with a little sleepy smirk eased into the corners of his mouth, patient and still for the first time since you’d met. It was a shame you couldn’t revel in it. 
You lost the stalemate after your desperation became too thick to swallow, “I need to see a case file. There’s like…nothing on the internet or in Maggie’s local history sagas.” 
That got his attention. Stiles leaned forward, glimmering with intrigue and ill-intent, and said, “Which case?”
“None of your business,” you retorted reflexively. Stiles gave you an amused look and cupped his cheek in his palm, waiting for the inevitable apology. You withered against your chair and muttered, “Does it matter?”
He snorted and lifted a shoulder, “I have a right to know what I’m potentially putting my life on the line for; breaking and entering is a very serious crime, y’know.”
You huffed and glared a little at your clasped hands, “Somehow I know you’ve done worse.”
Stiles didn’t deny it. He just grinned proudly and scooted closer to you, “Seriously, what’s so important you’re willing to steal something from the police?”
“Not steal,” you corrected, a bit too petulantly for your liking, “just…borrow indefinitely.” 
“Uh huh,” Stiles pursed his lips and almost went cross-eyed scrutinizing your face, “so what’s so important you’re willing to ‘borrow’ classified information from the police ‘indefinitely’?”
You paused, not entirely sure how to answer his question without spilling over the edges and ruining everything. “I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, bowing your head a little. You picked at a hangnail until it was tender and inflamed, “Just a hunch, really. It’s probably nothing.”
Stiles tapped his fingers against his desk, fast and furious, and let out a dramatic puff of air, “I could help you if you’d, y’know, tell me literally one single thing about it.”
“I don’t need your help,” you scoffed, feet sliding out in front of you as you sunk into your chair. 
He cocked his head and hummed, looking far too smug for 7:45 in the morning, “Besides the whole ‘stealing my dad’s keycard and making it actually possible for you to read it’ thing, right?”
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you mumbled, stalling the inevitable. It felt a little too much like losing to admit that you needed him—even though…you definitely needed him. It was a rather unfortunate fact you were fruitlessly still trying to deny.
Stiles rolled his eyes, neck too, and grabbed his backpack from the floor, “Forgive me for having a hobby.”
He opened his backpack, and you imagined, just for a moment, the zipper latching onto his mouth like a singularly-tentacled alien. It would solve all your problems; you could zip and unzip him whenever you wanted. If only. Sighing, you dropped your head against your knuckles, “Which is…irritating me?”
“Putting the pieces together,” Stiles dropped his coffee-warped, dogeared copy of Metamorphosis onto his desk and flipped to the assigned chapter. His eyes flicked from right to left, pace ridiculously fast, as he scanned through the pages. If it were anyone else, you would’ve assumed it was all for show. “I was a jigsaw kid,” he murmured, nose still stuck in his book.
Your lip stung as you gnawed on the cracking center, “If I tell you what I’m looking for, you’ll help me?”
“That,” Stiles punctuated his statement with a dramatic page flip, “and I might need a tiny favor from you.” He held his pointer finger and thumb together, almost touching, and flashed a toothy smile over the bent cover of his book, “Just an itty-bitty, very small, totally not a big deal favor.”
Your face turned thoroughly sour, “Oh god.”
Stiles rolled his eyes, like he didn’t just intentionally plant the seeds of dead bodies and false alibis in your mind two seconds ago, and huffed, “I just want to check on Lydia, okay? I think I’ll have a better chance of getting in through the front door with you.”
Your smirk flattened, “Why?”
His mouth hung open for a second, and then he shook his head firmly, peering at you through pinched lids, “You first.”
You fixed your gaze on your shoes, shifting your foot from left to the right, watching the fluorescent lights bounce off of the burgundy leather. The extra shine only made the scuffs on the toes more pronounced. “I want to look into the Hale fire, okay?” Your voice got trapped in your throat, so your tone wasn’t as biting as you wanted it to be, “Happy?”
You would’ve been content to keep staring at your boots until class ended, but your attention snapped back to Stiles when he inhaled sharply. He looked baffled, and maybe even a little green in the face, and you were starting to feel a little queasy yourself—nerves tended to turn your stomach upside-down and inside-out all in the same excruciatingly slow flip. His mouth was already ajar, but it took him several red-hand ticks to finally speak, “Why?” 
“Nuh uh,” you crossed your arms and sat upright, rolling your shoulders back, “you go now.”
Stiles was still looking at you with an odd expression on his face, a little too distracted to be difficult. He answered you without any inflection in his voice, “She didn’t show up for homeroom.”
Your intestines unspun with your faint inhale and then immediately dropped to the floor along with your heart as you let out a weak, trembling exhale, “...and?”
Stiles recovered from his momentary lapse in vexation and leaned onto his forearms, "And it’s your turn again.”
You wished you had a simple answer for him, and, even more so, you wished you were a better liar. “There’s kinda no way to answer that without trauma dumping all over you,” you mumbled, intensively examining the fine ridges in your nails. 
“I can handle a little trauma.” Stiles rapped his knuckles against the top of his head and smiled a little, “I’ve got nothin’ but space up here.” 
People always said that—that they’d be there for you no matter what, that they could handle anything—and then they got a real good look at the ugly of it all, at the dirty hair and rotting kitchen, at the prolonged silences and self-absorbed isolation. People usually took off running pretty quickly after that. At least, Lydia had.
“There haven’t been that many residential fire fatalities here. Just two cases, actually.” You chewed on your thumbnail and shrugged, “I know they said the Hale fire was an accident, but…maybe there’s a connection.” You swallowed, and your boot squeaked against the floor when you kicked at the ground, “Or maybe I’m just a dumbass with too much spare time.”
Stiles stared at you, and you could see the exact moment he connected the pieces. You were expecting the usual nauseating sympathy, the well-intentioned kindness that always flirted with the edge of pity, oftentimes landing smack-dab in the middle of it—but there wasn’t a drip of pity in his eyes. They were filled with grief; for you or for someone else, you didn’t know. Maybe it didn’t matter. More importantly, perhaps, his eyes were shining with…relief, pure and simple relief that nothing else needed to be said. 
“I’ll get you into the file room,” Stiles said, low and soft in his throat, and he didn’t look away from you until Scott slid in-between your desks. They did a complicated series of high-fives and hand-shakes with a few ‘knucks’ thrown in here and there for good measure. 
Before Scott sat down behind Stiles, he smiled in your direction. You looked past him, assuming Allison was behind you, and watched a red-breasted robin flit around a tree through the window. You saw Scott’s hand move in your peripheral vision, and when you tore your eyes away from the streak of scarlet feathers and blue sky, your lips tipped into a timid smile. Scott was waving at you; he was smiling at you. You didn’t know when your world went from no friends to two, but it felt oddly…normal. Smiling back at Scott, dodging Stiles’s kicks at your feet, trying not to laugh at their goofy faces. It felt like it was part of your routine, exactly the same as organizing your pens and pencils on top of your desk at the start of class, and just like that: normal twisted into terrifying. 
You chewed on the end of your pen when you felt Stiles’s gaze on the side of your face, “So…why do you want to see Lydia—besides your typical stalker behavior, obviously.” 
“You’re gonna feel like such an asshole,” Stiles grinned a little and nudged your toes, but there was something strange tucked in the corners of his mouth, something a bit grim, a bit afraid. Whatever it was, his cheeks didn’t dimple with his smile, and you gnawed on your lip once you realized that you not only noticed their absence but you missed them. 
You peeked at him from under your lashes and frowned when you saw that the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were gone too. Stiles’s grin eroded away to little more than a flat line once he started speaking again, “Jackson was attacked by…something last night—they’re saying mountain lion, but you and I both know that’s bullshit—anyway, she was pretty freaked out when my dad got there.”
You stiffened, spinal column drawing into a taut line from the crown of your skull to your tailbone, and your blood went cold. You already knew Lydia hadn't shown up for school today. You always knew—you felt Lydia’s absence just as fiercely as her presence. The air was just different somehow. You didn’t even have to look for her anymore; an innate rabbit-sense always reared its head when Lydia was too far away…when she was too close. Your instincts couldn’t agree on anything. They couldn’t decide if Lydia was a rabbit or a fox, and it was exhausting—but at the moment all you wanted, all you needed, was to make sure that Lydia hadn’t been torn apart by a monster with sharp claws and serrated teeth. 
“And she isn’t here,” you finally said, barely above a whisper.
“And she isn’t here,” Stiles echoed, just as quiet. 
“Okay,” your head bobbed with a decisive nod, knees moving before your mind had the chance to scold them, “let’s go.”
Stiles’s jaw unhinged alarmingly fast and comically wide, “Wha—now?”
You pushed everything on your desk into your backpack with a broad sweep of your arm and jerked your head towards the door, “Come on, before class starts.”
Stiles blinked at you for a few moments and then floundered for his things when you started walking out of the room without him. He stumbled into a desk in his rapid, ever-so clumsy efforts to catch up with you and twisted around to salute Scott’s empty chair. Apparently, neither of you had noticed his exit. It seemed it was a perfect morning for ditching class, but you didn’t dwell on the consequences for long. Your focus was single-minded and unwavering, and Stiles had to jog to keep up with your stalwart stride. 
“Since when are you so helpful,” he muttered, slightly out of breath. 
“I told you,” you gave him a wry smile and shoved the exit door open with your back, holding it for Stiles until he was halfway through the frame—and then you promptly stepped out of the way and watched the door swing shut on his backpack. Your lips twitched with a grin, “I’m a nice girl.”
Stiles yelped a little and looked over his shoulder, ensuring all his limbs were intact before yanking on his straps. His backpack smacked into his shoulders, and the heavy textbooks inside slammed together with a satisfying thump. You snickered and dodged his attempts to kick the back of your knees.
Glowering, Stiles switched tactics and tried to step on your nimble feet. Tragically for him, all the fire in his indignation was lost to his plush pout, “Since when?”
You rolled your eyes and waited next to his jeep, anxiously tracing little swirls in the dirt caked onto the passenger door, “Since I met you.” 
You missed the look on Stiles’s face, but that was for the best. His honeyed smile would’ve changed your mind, and you had an ex-best friend to attend to.
****************************
The jeep was quiet for the first few minutes of the drive—at least, it was as quiet as a decrepit clunker could be. There were various clangs and squeals in-between the engine’s low rumble, and a soft indie song filled the silences in-between, but the air felt still. Stiles was intently focused on the road ahead, thumbs drumming against the steering wheel to a beat of his own making, while you picked at your cuticles, cycling between anxiety and denial. It was a subliminal game of chicken that Stiles eventually lost. 
After a few false starts, Stiles blurted out, “You ever gonna tell me what happened?”
You stared straight ahead, through the bug-splattered windshield and down the winding street, “Nope.”
“Fine. That’s fine.” Stiles flexed his fingers against the steering wheel, straightening them to their impressive full-length, and then wrapped them around the wheel again. His grip was as tight as the grit of his teeth, “I don’t even want to know anyway.” You lulled your head to the side to smirk at him, but you kept your mouth thoroughly closed. Stiles’s gaze flicked in your direction briefly, and then he directed his eye roll towards the road, “I don’t. Keep your boring secret.”
You settled further into the passenger seat and propped your feet on the dash, grin warm with satisfaction, “I will.”
The beat of Stiles’s thumbs sped up, thundering against ‘9’ and ‘3’ while you hummed along to the trickle of piano and acoustic guitar strumming through the cracked speakers. The time on the dash display flickered from 8:15 to 8:16, and Stiles let out a long, drawn-out groan, “Will you just tell me! It’s killing me. Seriously, I’m going to credit you in my epitaph. ‘Here lies Stiles Stilinski: Another Victim of Gaslighting, Gatekeeping, and Girlbossing.’”
“They say you always remember your first,” you sighed dreamily, battering your butterfly lashes. The mole on the hinge of his jaw jumped with a harsh swallow, and you grinned. 
Stiles snorted and then immediately grimaced like he was irritated with his mouth for having the audacity to laugh in the midst of his despair. “Good to know I’m just part of a pattern.”
“I don’t know about that,” you hummed, resting your temple against the window. The morning sun warmed your skin and washed your face with a glimmer of gold that glittered with the devilry in your eyes. You smirked at Stiles and poked the mole just below his earlobe, “I have yet to meet anyone as homicidally inspiring as you.”
He pulled a face to hide his smile as the jeep puttered to a stop against the curb, and you looked over his shoulder, blinking slowly. You hadn’t realized you were so close to Lydia’s house until you were parked in front of it. 
The colonial estate loomed largely through the window. The long white pillars stood oppressively alongside the double entrance, and the meticulously manicured lawn screamed ‘keep off’ louder than any sign or barbed-wire fence. Lydia’s house had always been more like a monument than a home: an art installation, an antique, something to be admired not loved.
Tilting your head, you squinted at the familiar windows and counted along the second floor until you found Lydia’s room. The heavy purple curtains were drawn closed, and you were a little surprised that Lydia hadn’t redecorated in the last couple years. It was probably different on the inside; sixteen was a little old for dollhouses and princess crowns.
Growing up, Lydia’s room was stocked with every Barbie accessory on the market, and yet you always played Barbies at your house. Every single time. When her dad was home, Lydia’s house had teetered between too quiet and too loud. A constant vague unease hung heavily in the air, even with the volume on her CD player turned all the way up. No boy band could drown out all the screaming and icy silences, but you'd tried. Oh how you'd tried. It happened so often, you’d eventually gotten used to the noise, but you could tell it’d bothered Lydia, no matter how unbothered she’d tried to seem. 
In comparison, your house was the Dreamhouse. It was so warm before it became empty. Your mom always had something baking in the oven, and Lydia had never looked more at home than when she was tucked on your window seat, plate of brownies by her side, with your mom’s gentle hands braiding her hair out of her face. You hadn’t ever minded sharing; Lydia needed the attention more than you did. She was so much softer than people gave her credit for, far more fragile than they’d ever know. 
In spite of her current taste in boys, Lydia used to be a steadfast romantic. She'd always wanted to reenact the romance novels stacked on her nightstand, a little heartbreak before the inevitable happily ever after. She used to read so voraciously there was a new plot to perform every day. You were also a bookworm, but your tastes had inspired morbid hits such as Black Widow Barbie and Dreamhouse Zombie Outbreak. You'd usually take turns, or Barbie ended up falling in love with zombie Ken until he chomped on her arm. 
“Not her brains,” Lydia had always insisted, “Barbie is the brains of the relationship.” 
Lydia, you'd argue, Lydia was the brain. The only one that mattered.
Warm skin on your knuckles gently drew you back into the present. Stiles’s brow was pinched with concern, and his hand lingered on yours until you brushed him off with a shake of your head—but, as you’d come to learn the last couple weeks, Stiles Stilinski was nothing if not relentless. He leaned into your side as you walked along the lengthy driveway, sending you stumbling a few paces to the right. You glared at him, but it was watered down with stubborn affection. His mouth curled into a lopsided grin, and you forgot about the nerves wriggling up your esophagus until Stiles rang the doorbell. They came back full force when you heard a pair of high heels clicking towards them. 
Lydia’s mom peered out the door. She looked confused as she took in Stiles’s smile, stretched far too wide to look even remotely casual. Then, her gaze landed on you and her face broke out into a bright grin, “Y/N?”
You’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was; beauty ran just as deeply as old money in the Martin family. Lydia was born with her mom’s golden-red hair and hazel eyes, and they had the same dimpled smile. It was always difficult to see anything beyond the brilliance of their perfect teeth and incandescent skin. 
“Come here,” Mrs. Martin pulled you into a tight hug and cupped the back of your head with a steady hand. Your arms remained stiff by your sides, voice sticky in your throat. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been hugged like this; the realization hurt more than you thought it would.
After a moment, your shoulders slumped, and you turned your face into Mrs. Martin’s shoulder. She still smelled the same, like patchouli and luxury, “Hi.”
She held you out at arm's-length, hands on your shoulders, and shook her head, “There’s no way that this beautiful young woman is the same little girl who tried to keep a frog colony in my guest bathroom. I can’t be that old.”
“You literally look exactly the same,” you smiled a little and rubbed your bicep.
“It has been far, far too long.” She smoothed out the wrinkles in your sleeves and then stepped back into the doorframe, “What can I do for you?”
“I…” your mouth went dry, and you looked everywhere except Mrs. Martin’s face. Your eyes flashed between the silver door knockers, the winding ivy, the sculpted shrubs. Everything was exactly the same. Nothing, not even the house, had noticed your absence. 
“We came to check on Lydia,” Stiles nudged your shoulder, and you blinked a few times. Mrs. Martin was watching you with big emphatic eyes—and you hated it. 
You swallowed and nodded, “Yeah…we brought her homework.”
“Come in.” She paused and pinched the bridge of her nose with freshly manicured nails, “She took a little something to relax herself, so please excuse…well, just be prepared.” Mrs. Martin sighed, and for the first time it looked like the last four years had actually aged her. She attempted a smile, but it was shriveled at the corners, “You remember the way, don’t you?”
A nod rolled up your neck to your head. You couldn’t find the words to tell Mrs. Martin that you weren’t the same girl anymore. You almost felt like her in this house: small, wild, still full of dreams. You crept up the curved staircase slowly, delaying the inevitable, and ran your fingers along the iron railing. You broke your arm falling off of it nine years ago. It was a nasty fracture that put you in a cast all summer, but it’d seemed worth it at the time. At least, you’d thought so. Your mom and Mrs. Martin hadn’t agreed with your assessment at the hospital.
You felt a twinging urge to run to the top of the stairs and slide down the railing until you became dizzy—and just like that, you were seven years old again, and you weren't scared of death or ending up alone. 
“You coming?” Stiles called from the top of the stairs. 
You nodded stiffly and pushed past him to the last door on the left. You held your hand on the doorknob and pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, scowling at the anxiety crawling under your skin. You were being ridiculous. It wasn’t like you were the one who ended up in an ambulance last night.
You rapped your knuckles against the door a few times, even though it was already cracked open wide enough to catch a glimpse of the raspberry walls and flower chandelier. “Lyds–ia. Lydia,” you cleared your throat and peeked into Lydia’s room, “it’s me. I mean, it’s Y/N.” Stiles nudged you in the ribs, and you sighed, “And Stiles.”
Lydia was face-down on her four-poster bed, slowly combing her fingers through her unbrushed hair. She smacked her lips together a few times, and then her head popped up from her mountain of throw pillows, “You still haven’t explained what the hell a Stiles is.”
You snorted and shot Stiles a pointed look. He pursed his lips and glanced around the room until he spotted a little bottle of pills on top of her vanity. He read the lengthy label and let out a low whistle, “Bet you can’t say, ‘I saw Sally sell seashells by the seashore.’”
Lydia swung her legs over the foot of her bed and leaned forward, eyes sparking with bullheaded determination. “I saw….I saw…” The light in her eyes faded as she drifted off to a place no one else could see.
You sat down next to her and grabbed her hand. You didn’t have to tell your body to move; it knew before you did. Finding Lydia when she was lost, it was like…swimming to the surface, shivering in a storm, bracing for a fall. It was an instinct so deeply rooted in your soul you couldn’t rip it out without rupturing an artery. You watched Lydia’s eyes focus on your face, felt her fingers lace with yours, and all you knew was the slow thump of Lydia’s pulse against your thumb.
Lydia squeezed your hand and swiveled to face you. Her eyes were still cloudy, but something warm dawned behind the fog. You felt the pit in your stomach roll. Lydia sighed happily, “There you are. I was looking for you.”
“Well,” you almost choked on the lump in your throat and struggled to support Lydia’s weight as she went boneless against your side, “here I am.” You searched for some assistance with Lydia’s rapidly sinking frame, but Stiles was busy poking around every nook and cranny in the room. “Stiles,” you snapped. 
He wrenched his hand away from Lydia’s bottle of Dior perfume, purple just like the rest of the room, and clasped it behind his back. “What?” 
You gestured violently towards Lydia's wilting spine and rolled your eyes when he tripped over a discarded boot in his, frankly pathetic, haste to get to Lydia’s other side. You gently maneuvered her until she was propped up against her pillows. 
“Don’t go away again, okay?” Lydia licked her lips and looked like she was about to cry—so much like a scared little girl, your heart clenched. “I keep losing you.”
“I,” you stared at her with wide eyes, and the bottle of pills enveloped your peripheral vision, “I just wanted to see if you were alright…after last night.”
“Last night,” Lydia slurred, nuzzling back against her pillows.
“Yeah, last night,” Stiles folded his arms over his chest and arched his brow, “remember anything about it?”
“I remember…” Lydia looked like she was going to cry again, eyes glassy and round, but the chemical high quickly swept over the tide, “I remember a mountain lion.”
Stiles’s head tipped back between his shoulder blades, and his cheeks slowly puffed into pink little domes as he held his breath. Apparently, there was one thing more powerful than Stiles Stilinski’s obsession with Lydia Martin: his impatience. Stiles’s lips puckered as a loud sigh whooshed through his teeth. He crouched down to Lydia’s eye-level, “You remember seeing a mountain lion, or you remember them telling you it was a mountain lion?”
Lydia hummed and nodded until her hair fell in front of her face, “Mountain lion.”
“Jesus Christ,” Stiles reached for a stuffed giraffe next to her shoulder and shook it in her face, “what’s this?”
“Mountain lion,” Lydia’s head bobbed sharply. 
You snatched the stuffed animal out of Stiles’s hand, scowling as you bludgeoned his arm with the giraffe’s head. “Leave her alone. She’s doped out of her mind.” 
“Clearly,” Stiles snorted, watching Lydia curl a strand of her hair around her finger, completely entranced by the frizzy strands. 
“What did you want her to say?” You smoothed a few stray hairs sticking up from the crown of Lydia’s head back into place and met Stiles’s gaze, face impassive, “Werewolf?”
He opened his mouth and gaped like a particularly brainless fish. Before he could come up with a coherent answer—or any kind of answer, actually—Lydia’s text-tone chimed. Stiles dove across the bed for her phone, but you smacked his hand with the giraffe before he could touch it. “You are so not reading her texts, lonely boy.”
“I was just trying to help.” Stiles flopped onto her vanity chair and crossed his arms, squirming sullenly, “She can barely string two words together, let alone an actual thought.”
“I’m sure whatever it is can wait until she’s good and hungover tomorrow.” You glanced down at Lydia’s phone and paused. It was a video file. From an unknown number. 
“Hey,” Lydia poked her head up and pointed at Stiles until the weight of her arm became too much to bear. It fell on top of her stomach like a limp noodle, “You.”
“Me,” Stiles squeaked. 
You muted the video and made sure Stiles was sufficiently distracted by the curl of Lydia’s finger before you pressed play. Nothing happened at first. The video was shot in a strange, almost voyeuristic style, and the lighting was terrible, so dim you could barely tell that the camera was facing a large window. You squinted and made out the video store’s sign flickering above the door. So, this was from last night. Weird—but at least it wasn’t revenge porn; that had been your first guess. 
You’d almost given up on finishing the video, and then the camera angle moved. Two red eyes flashed in the darkness, a large…something smashed through the glass, and you bit down on your thumbnail so hard blood welled through the sidewalls. 
It was a goof, obviously. Some kind of poorly edited creepypasta. A cruel prank someone sent Lydia after they heard what happened last night. Had to be. Your hands shook as you sent yourself the video, and then you deleted it from Lydia’s phone. Your number, you realized once you stopped seeing red, was still saved as ☀️✨Babe!!!!✨☀️ in Lydia’s contacts. It took you longer than it should have to delete the sent message.
“If you’re done fighting your erection, we should get going.” Your voice sounded remarkably even, considering how scattered your mind was. It was certainly more composed than the babble spewing from Stiles’s mouth.
“I do not have—it’s not like—I wasn’t—she thought I was someone else.”
“Ah,” your phone felt heavy in your pocket, “real boner killer.”
Stiles sighed through his nose, “New rule, you can't make fun of anything I do or say when Lydia's in my fuckin' lap. Starting now."
He must’ve known something was wrong when you didn’t argue. That, and the way you practically sprinted out of the house to avoid seeing anyone else. Your hands were still shaking when you crawled into the jeep, and Stiles shot about a dozen little furious, concerned glances in your direction, but you couldn’t seem to move your tongue. 
Your bottom lip quivered. Your chest tightened until your ribs corseted your lungs. The screech of your ground teeth sent an unpleasant chill down your spine, but you’d rather choke on a chipped tooth than let the beast howling in your throat escape—the last thing you needed was to cry in the passenger seat next to Stiles Stilinski.
You were clearly losing your mind; everyone said it was only a matter of time—watching a loved one burn to death tended to have that effect on a person. Not that you remembered much, but you were clearly off your rocker if you were having vivid, day-time hallucinations of red-eyed monsters roaming the streets of Beacon Hills. 
You wiped your sweat-damp palms on your dress and bounced your leg up and down, driving your heel into the floor over and over again—and then you felt a solid warmth over your knee. Your eyes were a little wild when you followed the trail of Stiles’s arm to his face, and the divot between his brows deepened when he met your gaze, “Hey, she’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”
Your head jerked with a quick nod, and you sucked in a few shallow breaths, “I know.” The air got stuck in your chest, and your heart flapped erratically as the back of your eyelids played reruns of a familiar film starring your narrowing trachea. You dug your toes into the dusty floor mat, scrambling for any kind of grasp on reality, and choked on your words, “Her mom always…had…the good shit.”
Stiles kept his hand on your knee and then shook his head, pulling over against the curb and putting the jeep in park. “You don’t have to talk, but you gotta breathe.”
It took you a moment to realize that he was squeezing your kneecap in even intervals. You inhaled and exhaled with the flex of his joints until the panic receded enough for embarrassment to heat your cheeks. You slammed your head back against the seat and stared at the steel roof. You hoped that if you ignored the tears bubbling along your lash line, they’d instantaneously evaporate before they could spill onto your cheeks, “Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t usually…this hasn’t happened in a long time.”
“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Stiles chewed on his cheek and pulled his hand back into his lap. He drummed his fingers against his kneecap and then spoke softly, “I used to get ‘em too. Sucked.” Stiles stared out the dashboard, watching but not really seeing dead leaves swirl in little circles over the asphalt, “Happened a lot after my mom died.”
You froze for a moment, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. You realized, belatedly, that you hadn’t ever heard the Sheriff talk about his wife, not even once in the last four years, even though he wore a gold band on his left ring finger. It hadn’t even occurred to you to ask. 
You never had the right words to explain it. For a long time, you spoke in ripples at therapy, incomprehensible circles that skirted the point in an endless loop—but you realized, as you got stuck on the honey in Stiles’s eyes, you didn’t need the right words here. With him. In fact, you didn’t really need any words at all. “Me too.”
Stiles watched your eyes steadily, and his fingers stilled against his legs, “Yeah?”
You nodded and swallowed a little, “Yeah.”
A smile tugged on his mouth, tangled with too many paradoxes to parse in the soft, short moment humming between you. You smiled back at him, far more timidly, but that wasn’t a surprise. He was brave, you decided, much braver than you. It was contagious. 
Your tongue darted out, licking your chapped lips, and you clung to the fragile current of courage lapping against the back of your teeth. “We just stopped talking.” 
Stiles glanced at you, clearly confused. 
“Lydia and I.” You knotted your fingers in the hem of your dress and tugged on it every time you felt the stopper in your throat start to swell, “We just stopped being friends after my mom died. That’s why I didn’t…I mean, there’s not really a story to tell. We were close, and then I woke up one day, and we weren’t anymore.”
Stiles turned until he was facing you, leaning against the door and struggling to find a comfortable angle for his long legs. “Most people…they’re okay with the funeral part ‘cause it’s pretty simple—y’know: hold hands, bring food, pretend no one’s crying. And then after comes, and they can’t figure out what to do because it’s over, but it’s not.”
“Limbo,” you mirrored his position and pulled your knees to your chest. You rocked the soles of your boots from heel to toe, like small patent leather boats adrift on a sea of faded nylon, “It’s limbo, and everyone else is so incredibly, hideously alive.” 
The relief was back in Stiles’s eyes, and you were swimming in it. He nodded and bent his knees, scooching his feet until the toes of his sneakers were pressed against yours. “Yeah," he exhaled, and the moment felt important, like something you were supposed to remember on your deathbed. You tried to memorize the look on Stiles's face, but you didn't know where to start. How could you etch infinity?  
“It wasn’t just her,” you admitted out loud for the first time. 
“Yeah,” Stiles shrugged a little and gave you a grin that brought the dimples back to his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but smile at their reappearance, “but we can pretend it was, just for today.” 
You let out a breath that felt like a laugh and lifted your toes, dropping them on top of his and pressing down until they were pinned beneath the tread of your boots. Stiles narrowed his eyes and wriggled his feet free, fighting your scurrying ankles with his tongue trapped between his teeth. His triumphant cry when he finally caught the tip of your laces was just enthusiastic enough to coerce another laugh through your clamped lips. 
The soft smile Stiles gave you while you laughed made his body go lax and the back of your neck warm. You quickly bent over to retie your laces, and he turned to restart the engine. 
“I should probably get us back to school,” Stiles ran his hand over his head. “My dad'll kill me if I get marked truant again.”
“It’s parent teacher conferences tonight,” you recalled as the words left your mouth. You slunk down in your seat, chin catching on the seatbelt, “I’ve never skipped school before. I have no idea what my dad’s gonna say.”
Stiles’s attention shifted from the road to your profile, “Really?”
“What?” you crossed your arms over your chest and blew your hair out of your eyes.
“Nothing,” Stiles tried to hide his smirk, but it was too sharp to cover with a cough, “it’s just…hasn’t everyone skipped at least once?”
“What would I even do?” The corner of your mouth tugged into a dry smile, “Visit my catatonic ex-best friend?”
Stiles nodded agreeably, and then his head danced from side to side, rolling over other options, “Or bowling. Bowling is fun.”
You grumbled a little in your throat and sunk further into the cradle of your hips, “I hate bowling.”
Stiles grinned, “Yeah, me too.”
Pausing, your bottom lip wormed its way between your teeth, “I’d play D&D with you, though.” 
“Really?”
“Mhm,” you watched the sun disappear behind the tree line over the hill and ignored the feeling of being examined like a bacterial petri dish.
“See, we are friends. The best of friends, actually. Two peas in the proverbial pod.”
And, well, you couldn’t really disagree.
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absolutebl · 1 year ago
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This Week in BL - Top 3 Are HEATING UP
Organized, in each category, by ones I'm enjoying most at the top.
Dec 2023 Wk 2
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Ongoing Series - Thai
Honestly, 3 are neck & necking for top position! They are all so good in different ways. But The Sign had me hooting with laughter this week, so it scooped #1.
The Sign (Sat YT) ep 4 of 10 - This show is literally everything (except straight) all at once. It's BL, queer, band of brothers, romcom, erotica, paranormal, fated mates, mystery, suspense, slasher, and horror. It’s the king of genre mash-up chaos. I have no idea what I’m watching but I’m ON this ride. Is it a roller coaster? Is it a haunted house? Is it a twirl & hurl? Is there candy floss? Am I even tall enough? Who tf cares. All through the second scene, I was laughing. It was legit funny. Billy has great comedic timing. Guess he’s not just a pretty face.
Everyone should be watching this. Sure, it's madness but there is genius in it.
Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 6 of 12 -  Yech. August may be one of GMMTV’s least likable characters ever (and that is saying something). Meanwhile, MOAR language play! They spoiling me!
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Mhok letting Day go then walking away at the party hurt so bad.
Argh this show is great!
Ep 6 so that kiss was right on schedule. I’m looking forward to the boyfriend eps before doom & pain in the new year. Carry on GMMTV. 
Speaking of...
Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 2 of 12 - Oh they’re great. It’s great. It’s paced oddly, moving quickly through most of the key scenes of the original JBL in these first 2 eps. I think it’s intending to encompass more of the manga series than that one did. Which is good, cause that will get us all the way to The Library Kiss (TM). It's the best kiss in the manga. I also like the sides in this show (better than the JBL version). 
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My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) ep 8fin - What a lovely slightly unhinged little show. Tew, can we talk? Un-ironic suspenders, that takes courage. Also, the revolver was a crazy gun choice. 
Final thoughts:
This show is just as ridiculous as its title. About a gaymer who falls in love with one of his in-game teammates, who just happens to be a IRL gangster. A real gangster, the kind that actually kills people regularly. The lead pair is doing their best with a ridiculous story and shoddy script, but I enjoyed it. Although I was grateful it wasn’t very long, what we got was oddly satisfying if, frankly, a little bit silly. Recommended. 8/10 
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That said, what's important about this BL is not the show, but the production and style. Let me explain... no, too much, let me sum up.
This is a chimera BL. Regarding characters: it has Japan's style otaku + Korea's style gangster + Thailand's style friendship group. It used Thai talent + Korean money (Kakao) & IP (adapted from a manwha) but aired on a Chinese channel globally (iQIYI). I'm delighted by the eclectic insanity of this production and truly doubt that any other genre but BL could ever produce like this. It's like diplomat's BL and it's the great wonder of our age that it happened at all. This BL deserves its place in the history books on production alone, even if that place is only in the footnotes. A remarkable little monster.
For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - The sides are… messy. Using the same actor for the old bf is… odd. But in the end, this show leaves me smiling. Which means, I like it despite myself. 
Bake Me Please (Mon Gaga) ep 4 of 6 - It's decent. It’s basically what I wanted Antique Bakery to be when I first watched that way back when (not to mention Bite Me). But there’s been so much BL since then that, for some reason, this is falling flat. I think it’s moving too fast for a Thai series. Although, say what you like, Ohm has to be one of the best soft kissers in the industry. He's just good at mouth tenderness.
Ugh, that doesn't sound right. But you know what I mean.
Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 7 of 10 - I love how First is so upset when Sprite starts chatting and being nice to Koh. Sprite is just a sweet easy-going likable boy. I enjoy Sprite as a main character, he’s a bubbly little communicator. And they had a cute kiss.  
Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 5 of 14 - Because there was more Alan and Jeff and they were more key to the plot I was more into this ep. I do compare it to green smoothie down the pants in the Trash Watch.
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Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 3 of 12 - Look OffGun are truly great. But I’m just not sure we need them in BL anymore. That said, it’s nice to see Off as "the one with the crush" for a change. Also, this show is only good when OffGun are on screen together, otherwise it kinda, well, sucks.
Night Dream (Sat YT) ep 1 of 6 - Cafe setting featuring a cook and a writer. *Seems awfully familiar.* Except these two are exes and this is a reunion romance. It’s stiff and very pulp but not bad (no crap sound effects) and I am a sucker for a reunion romance. That said, Rookie Thailand is not to be trusted, proceed with caution.
Absolute Zero (Weds iQIYI) ep 12fin - I'm grateful this is over. It was tense but for the wrong reasons - sadness and confusion. This final episode was fine, but that’s because it was mostly them being together + flashbacks. Plus all the familiar actor faces of the grown-up friends (hi, Karn my lovely, still stunning I see). But 2 of 12 episodes is not enough for the 10 of suffering and confusion that came before.
In conclusion:
A man is killed on his 10th anniversary resulting in a time paradox, for which the only solution is him never meeting his childhood sweetheart until later in life. Both lovers cycle back to the past at different ages, so that they each become their own 1st & 2nd great loves, but every time it ends in pain, until each also endures 10 years of separation. Finally it gets fixed, but leaves them with multiple memories of time's failures like temporal PTSD, and everyone around them has chronic deja vu. Me? I got both. This is one of those BLs that is high-quality with great acting but poor story. If you like your BL dwelling, maudlin, and tense due to angst and suffering, then you might enjoy this. But I just regret it, 6/10. Recommended only if you like confusing time travel emo pain.
In which case, just watch Tokyo in April is... instead. Give over Thailand, Japan does it better.
Middleman’s Love (Fri YT & iQIYI ep 6 of 8 - While our main couple isn’t working for me... the side couple isn’t working for me either. I really wanted to give LeoTai a chance, this is the 3rd show I’ve seen them in, and still nope. I like Jade a lot more when he’s sad. He’s a much more pleasant screen experience depressed. I would like him to stay hurt for a couple of eps, just so I can enjoy this show a tiny bit more. But then he just goes unhinged again. Argh. I just don’t like it. 
My Universe (Sun iQIYI) Pisces of Me ep 17 of 24 - Codependent boyfriends in middle school planning for high school dealing with stuff. Including other boys being into them. 
Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 5 of 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. DNF 
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Ongoing Series - Not Thai
VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - It’s cute but I don’t think BL in this short format is Taiwan’s strength these days. And this is quite slow and dull. Perhaps they should have whacked it down to 6 eps, not 10.
Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 3 of 8 - This is one of those JBLs that I should like on paper but is failing me. The drag bit was ridiculous but handled gently. The kiss was… well… something wasn’t it? It’s all very odd. I like the photographer cutie character. 
It's Airing But...
The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.
7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if it's safe.
Beyond The Star (Weds iQIYI) 8 eps - House of Stars meets Boyband. I was NOT impressed with ep 1. Been told I shouldn't bother.
What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - I find this series more fun to binge, so I'm waiting until after it completes its run next week.
Dear Kitakyushu (Thai/Japan movie) in theaters in country only, I know nothing about distribution.
Behind the Shadows (Korea movie) this is a historical I was interested in, but I've been told they kill the gay so I'm OUT.
Next Week Looks Like This
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Still coming:
12/23 Dead Friend Forever (Thai horror) iQIYI
Original 2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED). With the end of the year upon us I'll do an "announced for 2023 but never happened list" soon.
THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS
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He so pretty.
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I forgot how likable TayNew are, and frankly I think New is a better version of this role for me, personally. I like him a lot. He's a conscientious sweetheart. And a good egg. (Cherry Magic)
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Ah the rooftop my old friend. (Last Twilight)
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I would like to point out that it's no accident the naga's sex dream happened in the shower, he's a water creature after all. (The Sign)
(Last week)
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my-rose-tinted-glasses · 11 days ago
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Rose Recaps 2024 - Thailand [ Korea | Japan ]
Started with Korea and now not it's Thailand's turn. At some point this year, talking about one of this year's thai bls, I wrote something like, that show was gonna join a much contested category, the 'it could've been so good if only it didn't lose itself and went completely off the rails in the second half' category. I also wrote something similar in my Thailand recap for 2023. So it seems not a lot has changed since then. So many times this year, by the time I finished shows, all I could think was, it could've been so good, if only... And although these are my favourite shows of the year, most of them are not without their issues. Also, before anyone get's too upset, Thailand is not alone in that particular category, there are more than enough shows across all the different countries that can fight for this title. With all that said, let's recap my favourite bls from Thailand 2024.
The one with the Thai magic - Cherry Magic Thailand
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As far as bl adaptations from different countries go, I think we can all agree that no one did it better. It was a smart adaptation that managed to keep the spirit of the source material and still make it their own with some really clever and culturally appropriate changes. TayNew were at their best and continue to be one of my favourite pairs. This is probably my favourite thai bl of the year, with the only negative point being the forbidden dating rule change from the source material that I wasn't a fan personally. I think in general it's a lazy obstacle to put in a romance and one we've seen enough of. By far my favourite change they made was Karan's singing. It was refreshing especially in a thai bl. Of course, I couldn't not mention Tay Tawan. One of the reasons I love the character of Kurosawa/Karan in all versions is that dichotomy of someone so put together but then inside their heads they are just such dorks in love. And Tay managed to portrait that beautifully.
Favourite Moment
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Did I mention how much I love him? This is why. He just fully embraced the magic and it was incredible.
The one where they talk. To each other. - Cooking Crush
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By far my favourite thing about this show is how great communicators they all are. Ten and Prem actually talk to each other when something is bothering them. Even the separation was something they agreed on. They made decisions together. I love Dynatime & Fire so damn much but I won't get into that because better things have been written about them that I could ever do in this post. You can find it all in @waitmyturtles post; @lurkingshan post @bengiyo post; @twig-tea post. And the friends. I forgot them on my best friendship list and I will never forgive myself. I love how supportive and meddling they all are and The Three Must-Eat-eers fight felt particularly real to me. I had such a good time watching this show.
Favourite Moment:
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Ok. It wasn't this particular moment per se, but most of episode 8 and one of the reasons that despite not being perfect, this show will always be great to me. I started to write but it got too long, so I'll just say this. I get so annoyed sometimes with the way misunderstanding plots and shallow conflicts get dragged for way too many episodes, because characters don't talk to each other, that watching communication break down and be resolved in the same episode by having them talk to each other made me so happy. And it would be easy in this particular episode to make things worse not better, but the show avoided all that because they were good communicators all along. So for all the times I'm screaming to my screen 'TALK TO EACH OTHER, this deserves the same amount of screaming for doing it right.
The one with the cuteness - Only Boo!
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This show had its issues. The whole plot about the agency was contrived, the sides dragged unnecessarily, and I'm not even gonna get into the Shone character or the mother. But damn, they are so freaking cute. I rewatched this one recently and I still smiled through most of it, which is more than I can say for other shows. So it's a win in my book.
Favourite Moment
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I'm basic. I'm a sucker for a public confession in a bl. And they suffered to get here and so did I. Also this - Moo: "Kang you. Kang you the most". The cutest.
The one with the sex ed - Knock Knock Boys
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My favourite things about this show were the friends, those relationships felt genuine, and the conversations around sex and consent. It's important and refreshing to have these types of conversations in a bl. Or really any show for that matter. I don't think it was a perfect show, imo it stumbled a couple of times, but it was one of my favourites weekly watches of the year. Both couples delivered compelling moments. I loved both of the girls, Lukpeach and Jane and what they brought to the story.
Favourite Moment:
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The one where they didn't have sex. Latte realized that it wasn't what Almond wanted or needed in that moment and stopped himself. I love their friendship first and foremost. And in that moment Almond needed a friend, and not to get laid.
The one with the photocopier - The Trainee
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I love the friendships. I love the growth of the individual characters and how they helped each other through it all. I love the message that you don't have to have everything figured out to have value, and it's okay to not have a "dream". I laughed at all the silly, I swooned over Jane and we collectively lost our minds over a hand gesture. I giggled over paper messages and cheered for the fries speech and got angry at Jane at the end. But this show had problems. The Bahmee/Judy storyline never really seemed to fit here. I never understood Judy's side of things and it didn't work specially in contrast with Jane/Ryan. And the time skip. I mean, 5 years? I mean I would wait for Jane forever, but there are these convenient things like mobiles, and laptops and a thousand messaging apps you can use to keep in touch. There's no actual excuse for this behaviour. I needed more grovelling. Like way more. And perhaps a reasonable explanation. But it's okay, I forgive you Jane. You so pretty.
Favourite Moment:
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Not only was this moment beautiful, but the whole conversation before with Ryan asking to Jane to call himself Phi forever, was so cute. Also the office flirting. Such a great moment.
The one with the BLs inside the BL, inside the BL - Every You Every Me
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I adored this show. I love the progression of the stories, all the ways they used the tropes, sometimes to hilarious effect, and how differently it was shot through the different episodes. The concept is refreshing and one of the reasons this show works so well is definitely the leads. They have solid chemistry that can keep you invested through the different stories and characters. It stumbled and it rushed the final and 'real' couple but as a whole this was an original and charming show that I will be rewatching more than once for sure.
Favourite Moment:
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It made me laugh so hard. No, but seriously. These two episodes were great. The carrot, the nail polish, the lack of shirts, the communication about sex. So much joy.
Honorable mentions: The one I would always like, even if I didn't - Jack & Joker YinWar came back. That's enough of a reason for me to be glad this show exists. They are still great together. The show, not so great. But you know, they were in charge and did the show they wanted to do, so good for them. Hopefully we get something else from them soon. The one with the cutest penguin - Caged Again Please, I'm begging the bl gods. Please please please, stick the landing. It's been said a million times before, but the fact that a show with this premise is one of my favourite weekly watches, will never not sound crazy to me.
Well, that's it for Thailand. See you next time with Japan. 💜
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evans23 · 6 months ago
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I am yours
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Pairing : Sinclair Bryant x Reader OC
Summary : Sinclair knows. He knows but he doesn't care because he loves you and you can believe him when he has told you your first time will be nothing short of magic.
Tag(s)/Warning(s) : fluffy and smutty puppy Sinclair ❤️ @liviacarol88-blog ; @eccentricchick
A/N : Hello dear 😁 You asked for it, I did it ! Here my version of Sinclair and virgin reader. Tell me guys if you're still up for David's version and I will be more than happy to oblige you =)
Part II
Lionel's version is here - David's version is here
Also read on AO3
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Sinclair knew. Of course, he knew. Not that he knows everything but that little secret of yours was quite obvious. At least for him.
He has known you for five months now, almost six, thanks to the chance of life. You came from a different world or what you called, for teasing him, the normal world while Sinclair was an affluent man coming from a wealthy family. Not that it matters for him or even his parents. They were happy that their son had found a good woman. Not a venal, never happy and capricious one like his ex. He told you everything about it after one month, when he had understood he wanted you in his life permanently.
You were everything Natalie wasn’t. Beautiful without vanity, intelligent without showing off but also without needing to belittle yourself to receive reassurance or compliment and, even though you were a bit shy and socialising wasn’t easy for you, you accompanied him each time he had a business party and you never complained when he organised a party at his estate, which happened quite often but as long as he was able to do the conversation, you were more than happy to be by his side.
In return, he was happy you could put up with his need to be surrounded by people and how you always did your best to make him feel important when you talked with his boss during a business party. A boss who adored your sharp mind and your ability to use sarcasm subtly.
Yet, despite the fact Sinclair was patient and, if he needed to wait for more months, he would gladly, he wanted you in the more intimate way. His desire was growing more and more since you agreed to move in with him two days ago. You had a tiring weekend, moving all your stuff into his incredible house, with the help of your father who was persuaded Sinclair was the one.
However, Sinclair wasn’t a fool, even though it is true, in the beginning, he had thought you were one of these girl who didn’t want to have anything to do with the intimacy of the flesh before the marriage. Not that he would have minded, he was already too engrossed with you for that but he was clearly not ready to take the plunge again. Not so soon after the Natalie Gate.
He couldn’t fathom how calm he had been after he had discovered the whole affair. Perhaps the fact he had understood everything far before she ridiculed him in front of his friends and colleagues had helped him to refrain from his need to kill Richard or even her. And had he not had the mastery of his emotion, what good would have he earned ?
The divorce hadn’t been too harsh, because when Natalie had tried to get more than what she deserved, he was so worked up that he had threatened her to reveal the truth to the court. A truth that would have sent her to jail.
It wasn’t really him to do something like that but he needed to get rid of her and her brother and he needed to get over the whole situation as quickly as possible. He was so down after his suspicions had been revealed to be true and even more after the divorce. Divorcing wasn’t something we do in his family. We try to work over what is wrong, to mend a damaged relationship. He could have forgiven Natalie for cheating, he loved her enough for that, even if she wasn’t really in love with him to even have just the thought of doing it, but cheating with her brother with who she was related by blood ? No, he could not forgive such an abomination.
Only his mother knew, neither he nor her had dared telling the real reason to his father. The man wasn’t a violent person, but in this case, with all his important professional acquaintances, he would have ruined the woman and as Sinclair had got his way, which meant Natalie was afraid enough to see him use the proofs he had against her thanks to his maid Xiao Mei and Pamela, his parents’ housekeeper who had revealed his mom she had surprised both rascals in the master bedroom, him naked her roughly clothed, that she had accepted all the terms of the divorce and the fact she wouldn’t get a penny of Sinclair’s fortune or half the part of the estate has it had been bought by Sinclair and only his name was on the deed of sale.
And then you arrived in his life, a hazardous, a happy accident. You were like a lighthouse in the darkness of his hazy mind. You met one year after his divorce, but even if he was trying his best to be playful and optimistic with the rest of the world, inwardly he couldn’t forget the bitterness of Natalie’s betrayal. She had humiliated him, slept in his parents' bed with her jerk of a brother, lied to him and in the end, he felt like the one punished, all alone in his big house with his broken dreams for a future with his other half.
Until you. He would never forget that holy day when he had absently darted the crowd while waiting for his coffee. You were in a hurry, your hair disheveled, wearing an inappropriate outfit for the really bad weather, you told him later the forecaster said it would be a sunny day and it was the reason you were wearing a short and a too thin pullover for the day, and you were in an urgent need of a milkshake because in the morning milkshake was for you like the God nectar.
You were beautiful. But too young he thought at first. Looking too young was your curse. Men always thought you were a child of nineteen when in reality you were 33. But then, Sinclair met you again the next day, even though you were absolutely oblivious about the first encounter. You were reading, sat down on a bench in a park under a tree which provided you a shelter for the sun which was finally there. And yet again, you were wearing the wrong outfit. An old grey jogging with the same pullover as the day before. Your hair still an untamed mess. And yet again, he found you beautiful. You didn’t put any effort into your appearance to catch the eyes of others, you were just you. And you were alluring without even trying, at least in his eyes, which very soon became to only eyes that were important for you.
“It’s one of my favorite books,” he told you.
You looked up at him, your hair body bristling at the sound of his baritone voice, and you immediately felt butterflies dancing in your stomach when your eyes dived into his hazel ones. Sinclair was tall, imposing while he was towering over you, with a hooked nose that cast a shadow on his pinky cheeks. And he had the most lovely smile in the world. In one word, you found him handsome.
“Oh really ?,” you answered, “in my point of view, Sense and Sensibility doesn’t match up to Pride and Prejudice. No one can liven up Darcy in my heart,” you added with a smile.
“Darcy is overrated,” he answered, sitting down next to you without bothering to ask you if you were at ease with his presence, because for the first time, he felt like himself, like the heavy lump in his chest was leaving him, letting a feeling of relieve washing over him. And he thought he would never feel like that anymore.
“Oh really ?” you asked, arching one eyebrow, not bothered at all to have him by your side, reveling in his imposing presence, but also a bit self-conscious as the man was undoubtedly looking for your company and you were worried to say something stupid.
“Yes, Colonel Brandon is far more interesting.”
He started rambling about the character and for the first time, he found someone to listen to him without belittling him or telling him he was showing off like Natalie would have done. In fact, for the first time since the divorce, he didn’t think about her once. And after that encounter, you were the only one haunting his thoughts.
But what really enticed him was the fact that you answered him. You always had something to add to what he was saying. And both of you waffled on the whole afternoon about books, films and anything that came up in the conversation. That day, he realised how his ex-wife was uninteresting. She didn’t have any hobbies except for spending his money on shopping spree… and shagging her brother. His parents had been so right when they had told him not to marry the woman so fast just because he was afraid to spend his life alone. Yet, if he had listened to his parents, maybe he would have had the chance to meet you. Life, sometimes, had an odd way to conduct people into the right path, and in this case, towards his soulmate.
He remembered with a fond smile how lovely he had found your accent, thick but understandable and how impressed he was to know you were an English teacher, here in London.
He couldn’t remember exactly when you became more than just a friend to him, when he had understood his feelings were strong and even overwhelming sometimes because he thought he wouldn’t be lucky a second time in love. If he had only been lucky at all in this field.
Sinclair was zoning out, thinking of you rather than focussing on his work, because he didn’t know how to broach the topic with you or if he should. He was ready to wait for you, of course, but he needed to know if you would be ready sooner rather than later. He already knew you weren’t into religion, therefore you weren’t in the wait for him proposing to you for his relief, even though he had already made up his mind about the fact that one day he would have the privilege to call you his wife.
Your reading included some explicit smutty books, so you weren’t really fierce and he wasn’t sure but one day, he had heard a strange noise coming from the bathroom that sounded like a moan, so, he was roughly sure you knew how to please yourself own body and how to get pleasure from your own touch. Therefore, you weren't a prude at all.
But what Sinclair wanted was to be the one pleasuring your body with his hands, his tongue, his cock. He needed to be inside you, to utterly claim you as his.
He was rather an honest, straightforward person in his day-to-day life, yet he didn’t want to make you feel uneasy by being too blunt with you about something you were maybe ashamed of, though he couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t a defect. If truth should be told, he found it endearing. Lovely. Terribly arousing. He was so sure you were a virgin, he would definitely be a bit disappointed learning it wasn’t the case. But he was sure. You were so unsure the first time he languorously kissed you, his hands roaming under your shirt to feel your skin. He had tried thrice to lead you towards the foreplay and what was coming next, but each time you had coyly shied away. Because you were a bit clingy and you liked cuddling with him, something he wasn’t used to but more than happy to learn to do with you, he had arrived to the conclusion you were a virgin and you didn’t know how to display the truth.
However, you knew you could trust Sinclair. He wouldn’t mock you. But how could you explain to him that you had reached the age of 33 without having ever been touched by a man ?
Wasn’t it a bit immature of you ? Maybe he would think finally you didn’t worth the trouble. No, it was not him. You were sure he wouldn’t even laugh, Sinclair was too kind, too pure for that.
When he came back home, earlier than usual as he had a party organised at his house to celebrate a significant contract he and his colleagues had got after hours and hours of hard work, meetings, follow-up meetings and late calls at night with their American partner, he found you in the kitchen, helping Xiao Mei and the caterers he had hired for the party.
You didn’t notice his arrival, and he stayed a bit backward, leaned on the threshold, looking at you with a fond smile. You were always nice to everyone, always helping those who it was the job to work around the estate, and for that, he does love you even more.
He eavesdropped your conversation with Xiao Mei with not an ounce of shame for doing so. Sinclair being always honest with himself as he was with others had started to get some insecurities since Natalie and despite himself, he often needed to be reassured you were completely into him, but also not talking bad about him behind his back. He wanted you to be as sincere as he was and if something was wrong, you must talk with him and not spit out your bitterness to people whose it wasn’t their business at all.
“Sinclair is really happy you have moved in with him,” he heard Xiao Mei said.
“And so do I. Some of my friends think we are going too fast but I don’t think so. When we know, we know and we almost spent all the days of the last five months together. We already have gone through our first argument, therefore I think we are ready,” you giggled.
Sinclair smiled at the remembrance. It wasn’t really a quarrel between you, just a mere disagreement which had been settled as fast as it had begun. However, Sinclair would have liked to settle it under the sheets, with him into you, but at the time he had already understood you were not ready and he already had some suspicions about your virginity.
“And I’m so proud of him,” you added, still unaware of his presence, “he worked so hard for this contract, he really deserves to enjoy himself and his commitment to his work tonight.”
Feeling an urge of pride and affection, he decided it was time to let you know he was here.
“Here is my favorite girl,” growled his baritone voice, reasoning inside the little kitchen.
“Sinclair, your back,” you said with a smile, drawing closer to him to kiss him on the lips.
“I wanted to be sure you weren’t making the whole meal yourself,” he joked, poking your nose with his hooked one playfully.
“Oh ! I almost had to threaten her to cut her hands if she continued to do my job for me,” bantered Xiao Mei.
“Ha, ha, ha, very funny, both of you,” you uttered playfully, “Actually, I arrived five minutes ago, therefore I haven’t even had the time to steal a piece of the desert Xiao Mei made.”
“And how was your day ?” asked Sinclair, sneaking up a salted cupcake from the tray behind you, ignoring the disapproving look of the housekeeper.
“Exhausting. A whole bunch of dunderheads. And yours ?” you asked while preventing him from stealing another cupcake.
“Exciting. I’ve a new client. A very interesting person. He worked with the CEO of Harrods and you’ll never guess about…”
He started to talk about some white powder during night parties, which wasn’t surprising for him, either for you, and he went on and on and on, happy to see you really listening to him and answering him accurately without trying to shut him up or to change the conversation topic because you didn’t care about what he had to say. The truth was that you always cared for Sinclair and his needs and you didn’t mind his incessant talking, it wasn’t as if the man had nothing interesting to say after all, he was so cultivated and everything could catch his interest, something you found endearing.
The night went well. You were glued to Sinclair’s arm most of the time, but he didn’t mind, he liked having you beside him while some of his coworkers were glimpsing at you. Before Natalie, he wouldn’t have been jealous, but since her betrayal, he couldn’t help the feeling of possessiveness which washed over him each time a man looked at you with a glint of desire tinkling. He tried his best to not overwhelm you with these new insecurities of his, but you understood where it was coming from and didn’t mind at all. In fact, you were flattered a man as Sinclair had noticed you and you felt a feeling of protection when he was clinging to your hand, subtly marking his territory.
Your societal abilities weren’t as developed as your other skills and you were grateful Sinclair did all the talking. Not that you were bothered with meeting new people, but you were rather an introvert and a crowded room with too much noise and the need to make some small talk about nothing particularly interesting was a bit exhausting for your mind.
As the last guest had just left, you went to the bathroom for a well-deserved shower. Sinclair, even though he had just finished having his own, felt the urge to join you, to feel your body under his, make his hands run on your skin, kissing your neck…
“Sinclair, control yourself,” he said out loud, shaking his head in a vain attempt to make his thought disappear.
But it was already too late, he could feel his member hardening in his underwear. When you popped up in the bedroom, only wearing a mini shorts and one of his shirts, his desire to take you here and now was burning him from the inside. Yet, he knew he had to be tactful to not frighten you away.
He casually took his place in the bed, patting the other one to urge you to join him, which you did willingly.
You cuddled up, making the best of his warmth to warm up your cold skin. Sinclair put his arm around your shoulders while his other hand was caressing your naked thing with a lingering desire of lust.
You thought it was time for the both of you. You couldn’t shut him down each time he tried something. and you wanted that too. But you weren’t sure if you had to tell him the truth, moreover, although you weren’t a prudish and naive woman, you didn’t know how to initiate it without him noticing your inexperience.
Fortunately, Sinclair, desperate to have a deeper connection with you, began to kiss your neck slowly, passionately, finding that sensible spot that inevitably sent shivers through your whole body.
You made your nails run through his hair, scrapping his scalp, which had for effect of making him moan loudly.
You watched him closing his eyes and you couldn’t deny your own desire for him while he was irradiating so powerfully that you could feel it.
You kissed his cheeks, his neck, then, without being able to fathom what got into you, you straddled him in a swift motion. Sinclair was taken aback by your action, feeling less certain about his assumption concerning your virginity, yet he knew you weren’t completely innocent in that matter.
And, while things became more intense, him patting hungrily your breasts under the shirt you had decreed was yours since you had moved in, he felt your hesitation. It was just a little flinch in your attitude and you continued to kiss him, but less ardently now that you could feel his length pressing against your covered pussy.
Sinclair had the feeling you were ready for that. Everything in your corporal language screamed how you wanted that as much as him. But he feared, you back away again if he didn’t take the lead from now on. Not that he would coerce you if you weren’t in for a treat, however, Sinclair was sure it was the right time for both of you.
He hesitated before eventually deciding to let you come to him if you needed to admit something to him. After all, maybe was he wrong and if that was the case it would be embarrassing for both of you. Anyway, he already made up his mind that he would be gentle and if he was right, he was roughly sure he would be able to feel it by the way you would move under him and by how tight you would be. The blood could also be an indication he thought, though not all women bleed during their first time he remembered himself.
He fidgeted a little bit under you to turn you around with a swift move so that you were under him.
One of his hands was playing with your nipple, making the wetness between your legs worse, while his lips were busy leaving a string of sweetness along your throat to your neck. You will have several little bruises of love the next morning, for sure.
When he tried to remove your shirt, he felt you stiffened and he stopped what he was doing to look you in the eyes.
He sat down and forced you to lean up against the headboard with him. You looked at him with a mixture of trepidation and puzzlement.
“Honey, is there something you would like to tell me ?” he asked gently.
You looked down, blushing, something he found enticing.
“I won’t judge you, no matter what you want to tell me,” he added, his tone soft to not trigger you.
You opened and closed your mouth several times, your blush intensifying. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t trust Sinclair, it was that you were so ashamed to admit it. How many times your girlfriends had told you it wasn’t normal and it would repulse any man with who you would want to commit with. You had never accorded any attention at their talking that you always qualified as rubbish, but here you were, more ready than ever to make love with our amazing boyfriend, but also with all your doubts and insecurities.
Sinclair felt he should help you. He kissed the crown of your head, feeling a little bit hurt at the sight of your distress. He sighed heavily and held out his hand to grab your chin to force you to look at him.
“Are you a virgin honey ?” he asked without any mockery in his tone.
You didn’t look away, but tears invaded your beautiful eyes. Unable to answer, you just nodded once.
“Don’t cry, darling. I didn’t ask it to embarrass you,” he said while laying several kisses on your cheek, forehead and head.
“It’s just… I hoped you wouldn’t figure it out,” you whispered bashfully.
“But why ? Don’t you trust me to tell me that ? We are together as a couple now and you told me a couple shouldn’t have any secret for one another,” he reminded you.
Indeed, after having heard the gruesome story of his marriage with Natalie, you told him that a couple should share everything, even more their struggle and their disappointment towards each other. More importantly, you mustn't go to bed without having sorted out any argument between you. You were the one who had come up with that rule and Sinclair had immediately settled on with it. He wanted to build up a healthy relationship with you above the foundation of love and communication.
"I trust you, I swear, it's just..." you shut down one more time, biting your lips so hard Sinclair thought you would eventually hurt yourself.
"But what ?" he asked, his soft tone appeasing you.
"I was afraid you could be disgusted with my state," you said so low he wasn't sure if he had clearly understood you.
"Disgusted with which state ?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, "Do you have a terrible sexual disease that could kill both of us ?" he asked seriously.
You knew the question was rhetorical and you felt more embarrassed than before.
"Darling, you don't have the cholera, you are a virgin, it's not a defect or a shortcoming."
You looked at him, searching in his eyes for any form of deceit despite you. You couldn't stop your insecurities from gnawing at you. Sinclair could see how uneasy you were and he tried to soothe you down a little bit.
"I really don't understand why you give so much importance to it," he said, caressing gently your cheek.
"I don't know... Some of my friends kept telling me how strange it was to be 33 and still not having managed to get rid of my virginity. And my closest friend seemed to think that it was the best way to frighten a man and make him run away from me," you answered without looking at him.
Once again, he forced you to look at him, his hand guiding your head towards him. The tears in your eyes threatened to fall down at any time soon and you felt like a little girl who had just made a mistake and was on the verge of being scolded.
"Your friends are stupid. All of them. Truth be told, I find it arousing," said Sinclair before placing a kiss on your nose.
"Really ? You don't find me weird or something like that ?" you asked, a feeling of relief beginning to wash over your anxiety.
"Any man in the world would find it incredibly endearing, arousing and quite exciting too. But, I can't help but ask myself how a beautiful and smart girl like you has never met anyone, let alone never made love with anyone."
You shrugged, reveling in his soft touch against your neck.
"Maybe because I'm too smart," you answered genuinely.
Sinclair agreed. After all, he had read in a book that the more intelligent a person was, the more difficult it was for the said person to make acquaintances, true friends and to find the right partner because it made you more picky, more demanding and more in the need to be with someone because you were really in love with that person and you could find some peace and relieve with the right one, the one who could complete you.
He could relate to you as, for too long, he had thought Natalie was the right one. The one he needed. Only his parents, at the time, had understood his fear of being alone all his life like his cousin, a wealthy businessman at the head of the largest media company, surrounded by the most beautiful masterpiece of the greatest painters, possessing as many incredible cars as Sinclair, but terribly alone and bitter.
"Also," you started shyly, "I don't really attract men. I mean, I'm such an introverted, bookish girl, socially awkward. It's a miracle you noticed me. Another one that you didn't care about our social differences."
"Darling, please, not that again. You know I don't care about that kind of thing, either my parents don't care. You're such a courageous girl to have gone through all those awful things and still standing, facing the world, living away from your country because it was the only way to fulfill yourself."
You blushed under his praises. He told you so many times before and he will do it again each time you will need to hear it.
"I'm... I"m sorry," you stuttered.
"And now you are apologizing again and I don't even know why," he said half serious, half joking.
"To not have told you the truth immediately. At least, when it became serious between us. You deserved to know. Yet, you knew. You always know everything," you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.
"It wasn't really difficult to fathom it out, darling. At least, for me. Even though I wasn't sure. It could have been anything else, you could have been in an abusive relationship in the past but the way you act around me left little doubt about the fact you were still untouched rather than afraid of me."
Sinclair, pragmatic and direct as always, explained it as if you were an equation he had resolved long ago. You chuckled a little bit, feeling some reassurance that he wasn't revulsed at all but rather excited about the news.
"I feel so unfit for this world," you said calmly, "And I was so afraid to never meet you. London is quite a big city and I felt swallowed by it, invisible, even though I was invisible in the quaint little village where I used to live too. But here, I was so alone while surrounded by so many people. And then you arrived in my life and I... I just knew. But then, I was so afraid of your reaction. Honestly, I don't think I would have told you if you hadn't guessed it."
"Honey, there is no shame at all to be a late bloomer. Once again, I find it enticing !"
As to prove his point, he started kissing your throat, delving slowly down your breasts, your belly, your thigh, then he climbed up before stopping above your pussy, still covered with your shorts.
"Do you want it ?" he asked, surveying your face to seek any sign of hesitation.
"Yes," you said in a breath. "I"m sure you're the right one, the one I've waited for and I want you to have it."
You kissed him with fervor as if you wanted to prove to him how you wanted him. Again, Sinclair pinned you under his body, leaving a lingering kiss on your face. You put your hand under his shirt, giggling when he hissed at your cold palm on his chest, then, you helped him to get rid of his shirt.
You looked at his chest, musing how he could have a toned stomach with all the food he was eating, not that you mind either what he could eat in a day or if he had or not his hips poking over his pants. You loved him entirely, the in, the out and the in-between.
But when came Sinclair tour to take off your shirt, he stopped to look into your eyes, searching for something you couldn’t fathom.
“Sinclair ?” you asked with trepidation.
Could he have changed his mind, finally ?
“Promise me,” he said in a husky voice, full of desire, hungriness, but also something that wasn’t usual for him, uncertainty.
“Promise you what ?” you asked with concern, caressing gently his face with the tip of your fingers to soften his features.
“Promise me you are not using me to get what you want and then you will leave me.”
At his words, you felt a pang of sadness for the man you loved. Sinclair was always so composed, so strong, and even if you had talked together about his past depression and The Affair, never had he let you think he was living with the fear of you betraying him like his ex-wife. Even though you didn’t have any brothers, you could still go away, trying to see if the grass was greener, but you were too honest with yourself to do something like that and also totally mad about Sinclair.
The love you felt for him was something you had never felt before. Never ever would you be able to hurt such a beautiful person, even least when he was giving you everything you dreamt of and even more. Sinclair had offered you a world full of possibilities, a world you didn’t even now you could walk through.
“Sinclair, I have not saved myself for so long to finally choose to do it with the first man enough interested in me to make love with him and then throw him away like dirty clothes,”
He wanted to talk but you cut him short, putting your hand on his mouth.
“I wanted someone who would love me as I am, the good, the bad, my anxiety, my shortcomings, everything. I have waited for a man who would respect me, with who I would have fun and with who I could speak about everything. In fact, before meeting you, I didn’t know you were the one I was looking for. So, I promise you Sinclair, this is not an evil game of mine. I am totally committed to this relationship and profoundly in love with you, I want you to be my first love but most importantly, my last love.”
The doubts in Sinclair’s eyes flew away, replaced with a predatory look. Your words were what he needed to hear. He already knew that, but he needed you to tell out loud what he represented to you, how important was this relationship for you because for him it was already too late, he was so fond of you that sometimes he woke up during the night with the fear you could leave him.
He was not used to that sort of invasive thought, it had begun after the initial shock of what Natalie had done and it had become worse after the divorce. And here you were, comprehensive, gracious, and in love with him, something he thought he would never get, not after the terrible questioning he had gone through after the divorce. How bad of a husband had he been if Natalie preferred to shag her brother rather than trying to sort out her problems by talking with him ?
“Sinclair,” you said softly, “don’t get lost on me,” you almost begged him, “the past is in the past. I am not her. I am yours.
“And I am yours,” answered Sinclair, resuming his kisses on your body, finally taking off your shirt.
He licked one of your nipples, sucking and biting it playfully. He felt his length hardened at the same time your nipple did in his mouth. With his thumb, he brushed up and down over your other nipple, trying to ease you as much as possible to make it enjoyable for you.
He knew the first time could be painful and he wanted you to forget the pain to bask in the pleasure he was willing to give you. It should be the connection between two bodies, two lovers, two souls, not just him taking what he longed for so long, since he had understood how drawn he was with you.
“Sinclair,” you moaned under his touch.
You arched your body, wanting more, wanting him, which made him laugh.
“Slow here, darling, we don’t want to rush here, do we ?” he said, letting the hand that was brushing your breasts go down to the hem of your shorts.
Before slipping his hand under your panties, he asked you one more time if you were ready for that.
“If you need more time, if you want us to go slower, I’m happy to wait for you. I don’t want this if you are not sure it is the right time for you,” he said, though inwardly he desperately hoped you wouldn't refuse his endearments.
You felt a surge of affection for him and his understanding.
“I want this. I want you Sinclair.”
It’s all he needed. He leaned in, slowly to give you the time to brace yourself and stop him if you had any doubts, but he hoped you wouldn’t do that, his member was almost hurting him as he wanted you so much.
You tussled his hair in your way to pull him closer to you, deepening the kiss he was giving you, your tongue fighting with his while his hand found its way to your pussy.
You pressed instinctively your legs together, but your wetness couldn’t lie, you needed him and Sinclair could feel it.
“Don’t worry honey, I will take it easy on you.”
He started rubbing his thumb against your clit. Sinclair had read once that it was easier to give an orgasm to a woman when she already had one and the best way to relax her was to stimulate her little bundle of nerves. He also read that he would probably do that again once he would be inside you, as it wasn’t easy for a girl to have an orgasm just with her cock partner, even when the said cock was bigger than average. Actually, he was a bit afraid to hurt you as your walls were probably too tight, therefore he would take his time with the foreplay.
His thumb was still working on your clit and his tongue on your breasts when he inserted his first finger inside you, making you gasp in surprise to feel him inside you. Yet, it wasn’t painful. He played with your wall a tad before reaching your opening with his middle finger, pushing it slowly before scissoring you slightly.
You were already wet, but definitely not ready for him. He continued to make his fingers play and stretch your walls before finding what he was looking for. He knew he had reached it when you let out a moan louder than the other ones.
“Sin… Sinclair,” you stuttered, your mind confused amid the pleasure which was invading you.
“Give it up [Y/N],” he murmured in your ear, hitting tenderly your earlobe.
You didn’t need more to come, not as hard as he hoped, but he was discovering your body and how to please you. It will be a patient exploration, one that will not be done in one day, fortunately for him and for you.
You kissed him anew while he removed his fingers from you, looking expectantly at your reaction. The sight of your glimmering eyes should mean you were rather satisfied until now.
“Are you still sure ?” he asked.
You nodded and he gently squeezed your hips.
“Use your words [Y/N], because I won’t do anything if I am not sure here. I won’t do anything you don’t ask me to do, I…”
“Oh please Sinclair,” you cut him off, “yes, I still want you. I want you inside me and now,” you said urgently, which had for effect of making him laugh.
“Such a needy girl, aren’t you ?” he said, teasing you with his thumb which he rubbed slightly against your fold.
“Only for you, Sinclair,” you answered in one breath.
He stroked his manhood several times to get harder, then he placed himself between your legs. You shivered at the sensation of his cock tip against your entrance, trembling with a mixture of anticipation and arousal.
“I will be gentle, [Y/N]. But if you need me to stop, just say so.”
“Yes, Sinclair,” you said, your eyes delving into his hazel one.
You kissed his hooked nose which cast a shadow on his cheek and he took the opportunity to slowly enter you. He stopped when your hands grabbed his shoulders, more by surprise than any real pain at this point.
He could feel how tight you were, how careful he must be to make it as pleasant as possible, even though he knew pain was unavoidable.
You stroked his armpit when he resumed his way inside you, always with care for your well-being, surveying your eyes, your face, to catch any sign of discomfort.
You hissed when he broke your hymen, but he blocked your little scream with his mouth, caressing every inch of your body with his lips to make you forget the pain his cock was inflicting on you.
Looking down, he saw the crimson liquid tainted the sheets, yet he was reassured to see you weren’t bleeding too much.
“Can I move, my love ?” he asked you.
You said yes, though you weren’t sure if you could bear having him fully inside you as he was already stretching you so much.
You held his shoulders, shoving your nails in his skin, but Sinclair was so engrossed with his duty of pleasuring you with the least pain possible that he didn’t even notice the pressure of your fingers on his back.
Your body arched slightly when he entirely filled you. Yet again, Sinclair held still to let you enough time to adjust to his cock, brushing your breasts with the tip of his fingers, while he used his mouth to distract you with a string of kisses in your throat.
He felt your inside contract around his cock and it was his clue he could move. He started to move slowly, ensuring your initial pain was ebbing away, at least a little bit. When you moaned at one of his swift motions, he retained a smile of pride at the understanding that he was doing what he should.
“I’m… I’m sorry Sinclair,” you managed to stammer between a moan, “I don’t really know what to do to please you,” you explained coyly.
His face softened at your words.
“Having you in my arms, like this, is enough to please me, honey. Believe me, I am the most happy man in the world right now with the precious gift you are offering to me.”
The twinkle in his eyes matched up to yours. Both of you were exactly where you should. In the arms of one another.
When you moaned louder than the other times, Sinclair speeded his thrusts a tad, determined to make you come first. This night wasn’t for him, it was for you.
Unfortunately, the passion was too intense and he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. With two deeper thrusts, he came into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
When he straightened his face, all you could see was the sheer ecstasy of his orgasm. He was handsome. The most handsome man you could have met in all the sense of the term. Yet, you couldn’t help too feel a bit frustrated but he reassured you immediately.
“We are not done [Y/N], I’ve enough stamina for a second round and you will have your pleasure too, darling.”
His baritone voice sent shivers through your body, while his thumb found anew your sensitive clit, stroking it in an exquisite slowness.
“Sinclair,” you half-moaned, half-pleaded.
You could feel your orgasm building up inside you and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, trying to pull him towards you. His chest crushed on yours, though he did his best to bear his weight on his forearms.
“You’re so beautiful, [Y/N],” he whispered in your ear, kissing your cheek.
The pain mingled with the pleasure he was desperate to provide you with.
“Sinclair, faster, please,” you begged.
More than happy to oblige you, he intensified his thrusts and you felt estranged from your own body. What Sinclair was doing to you had nothing to do with the pleasure you were able to give yourself with your fingers. It was more intense and there was that feeling of connection with Sinclair that made you feel complete for the first time since long.
Little did you know that Sinclair had the same thought at the same moment as you. He felt an urge of happiness so throng he could have cried if he wasn’t such a composed person. After the humiliation of Natalie and Richard’s affair, he had thought never would he meet the path of happiness again. How wrong he was and for the first time how pleased he was to not have figured out something correctly.
“Sinclair,” you loaned, his own name like a song into his ears.
He intensified a bit his pace, reveling in seeing your body tremble under his while his thumb continued his dance against your little bud.
“Haaa, Sinclair, please…”
He thrust harsher than the previous times, pressing at the same time his thumb against your clit, and you let go of your pleasure.
“Sinclair !” you cried out while he held your convulsing body against his, kissing your mouth with passion.
He held you until you came down from your high, your body still shaking from your encounter, a satisfied smile and your face and a smug one on his. He pulled out of you with one last kiss on your lips to muffle your hiss of discomfort at the loss of his warmth inside you, but also at a new kind of soreness.
He cradled you against his chest, letting you have the time to bask in the afterglow of the love you had shared.
“I love you,” you said while a sort of calmness invaded you.
“And I love you,” he said, kissing the crown of your head.
He asked you if you were hurt with some trepidation, remembering the little pool of blood in the sheets, worrying more when no answer came. He glimpsed down at you to see you sleeping soundly in his arms and his smile grown wider if it was possible.
He wanted to pamper you after that to make your first time completely worth it. He had planned to run you a bath in which he would have joined you before more cuddles in bed, but everything he had in mind to lavish you with could wait the next day. He didn’t want to disturb your sleep, taking some proudness to have you safe and sound in his arms, to have you at all, entirely.
He looked at you, his heart swelled with affection, knowing that now, no matter what, he was sure to have the perfect one by his side, the one who had waited so long to give herself to the one she thought would be worth it and he couldn’t describe how his entire being was reignited, knowing that he was that person for you because you were definitely his person and he couldn’t wait to see what the future will reserve for both of you as a couple. Because from now on, you were his past, his present and his future.
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shadowtriovibes · 2 years ago
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before the origin of love
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Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2.7K
Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Blood, Major Hogwarts Legacy Spoilers, Canon Divergence, Ancient Magic Theory
Summary: request [paraphrased]: "You know the part during the game when MC visits Ollivander's alone and Rookwood Apparates her away? Can I request an angsty version of this where Sebastian is with f!MC? Rookwood is angry they killed all his men and casts Imperio on Sebastian to force him to attack her. Even though she’s expecting to die by Sebastian’s hand, he eventually fights the curse off because love is more powerful than dark magic."
a.k.a. y'all thought lily potter was the only one with ancient love magic? think again!!!
“Show your face, Rookwood!” you shout into the darkness. “Come out and fight me!” “My dear, why should I fight you?” Rookwood laughs from high above you, still unseen. “This is child’s play, after all…” You feel like time stops as you see a bright green curse rocket through the air toward Sebastian, who is powerless to do anything to stop it. The curse hits him in the chest with such force that he’s knocked backward, his head tipping forward as he lets out a sickening groan. But instead of watching your friend die while you stood by helplessly, you watch in abject horror as he tilts his head up and locks eyes with you – smoky-green, soulless eyes.
The moment you and Sebastian step outside Ollivander’s shop, you realize that the typically bustling streets of Hogsmeade are disquietingly empty. It’s nearly sundown now, and instead of seeing a friendly mix of witches and wizards doing their holiday shopping or stocking up on supplies for the winter months, you find yourselves all alone.
“Take out your wand,” you murmur to Sebastian. “Something’s not right.”
Wordlessly Sebastian draws his wand and takes a step closer to you, warily glancing up and down the empty streets.
Then in the blink of an eye, a well-dressed figure Apparates into view just across the way – Victor Rookwood, you realize, complete with that infuriating hat of his.
“Rookwood,” Sebastian boldly calls out. “So we meet again. Didn’t you get enough of a telling-off last time?”
You silently aim your wand at him, daring him to take one step closer.
“Well, well… looks like your friend Sirona isn’t here to stick up for you little menaces this time,” Rookwood says with a sneer. “I’m afraid you two are on your own. In fact, I’ve ensured that we have a moment to ourselves.”
Sebastian quickly lifts his wand and aims it squarely at the man’s face. “What do you want, Rookwood?”
“Oh, come, come, no need for such theatrics,” the man drawls, slowly creeping closer to you both. “In light of what Ranrok now knows, you must agree that our interests are aligned.”
Sparks crackle at the tip of your wand as you lift it toward Rookwood.
“Our interests will never be aligned,” you murmur.
Rookwood glances significantly at Sebastian before he challenges you.
“My dear, you would let goblins take what is rightfully ours? The final repository belongs to wizardkind. We would be fools not to work together.”
Beside you, you observe the slightest falter in Sebastian’s aim. You should have known that someone like Rookwood would immediately be able to pinpoint and exploit his biggest weakness – his resentment toward goblinkind, his uncompromising belief that only they carry the blame for his sister’s curse.
You imagine him thinking, Could he be right? Are we fools to allow Ranrok’s goblins to continue ransacking Isadora’s Repositories? Could we instead be using them to cure Anne?
But before Sebastian says a word, Rookwood’s eyes land on the long, thin box in your hands.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” he demands.
Quickly, you slip the box safely inside your robes. You shake your head only slightly, but Rookwood easily detects its significance.
Rookwood continues, “Might this sudden visit to the wandmaker have something to do with our… mutual pursuit?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say softly.
Suddenly, you see Rookwood’s countenance shift as his true motives become clear.
“That repository is my birthright!” he shouts, stepping toward you with a hand outstretched.
Instantly Sebastian steps in front of you and points his wand at Rookwood once more. “I know one thing for certain, and that’s that Charles Rookwood wouldn’t have wanted you anywhere near it!”
Rookwood laughs darkly as he takes a step back.
“The arrogance,” he murmurs, gaze fixed on Sebastian’s determined expression. “I should have known better than to try to reason with a Sallow, after all – you’re no better than your sister, you simpering fool.”
In a frighteningly low voice, Sebastian asks, “What would you know about my sister?”
“Nothing, of course,” Rookwood sneers. “I only meant that I’ve always thought that children should be seen and not heard.”
You inhale sharply, absently lowering your wand as you process Rookwood’s words – the very same that Sebastian had told you were the last words Anne had heard before she was hit with her curse.
Sebastian understands the implication a split second before you do, and you can see bolts of green light shooting down the length of his wand before you even understand what he’s doing.
“Avada–”
Before he can finish his spell, you feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly you’re hurtling through time and space as you’re forcibly Apparated away from Hogsmeade, landing in a crumpled heap in the snowy grass. You’re smack in the middle of a desolate bandit camp somewhere in the Highlands.
Beside you, Sebastian is catching his breath while his hands tremble with rage.
“Where did he go?” Sebastian demands. “Where did the bloody coward go?!”
“Careful, Sallow,” Rookwood’s voice calls out from the darkness. “Wouldn’t want to get yourself into a bind!”
Sebastian suddenly shouts as thick lengths of rope appear out of thin air and wrap themselves around his body, forcing him to his knees.
“Sebastian!” you yell. “Finite!”
Your spell deflects right off the enchanted ropes, and Sebastian grits his teeth.
“I’m okay,” he insists. “It’ll be alright, just – just get him, you can do this.”
Desperate, you find yourself alone while Sebastian struggles against his ropes. You’re keenly aware of the dozen or so fully-grown wizards Apparting into the camp with their wands drawn. You’ll have to take on every single one of them by yourself, you realize, with nothing but your own wand and the ancient magic coursing through your veins to defend yourself.
It feels endless. Simply deflecting their spells takes nearly all of your focus, even if you try to spare some for Sebastian while he struggles uselessly against his bindings. You toss curse after curse at Rookwood’s men and eventually you’re forced to start tossing actual barrels and crates at them as well, until finally you pare down the lot of them to the last executioner with his wand trained squarely at your heart.
“Bomarba!” you holler, and across the field, the burly executioner goes flying into a pile of rubble and melts away into smoke, the last to abandon his mission and surrender.
“Show your face, Rookwood!” you shout into the darkness. “Come out and fight me!”
“My dear, why should I fight you?” Rookwood laughs from high above you, still unseen. “This is child’s play, after all…”
You feel like time stops as you see a bright green curse rocket through the air toward Sebastian, who is powerless to do anything to stop it. The curse hits him in the chest with such force that he’s knocked backward, his head tipping forward as he lets out a sickening groan. But instead of watching your friend die while you stood by helplessly, you watch in abject horror as he tilts his head up and locks eyes with you – smoky-green, soulless eyes.
Imperio.
 “So go on, then,” Rockwood demands. “Play!”
The ropes that had bound Sebastian’s arms to his side quickly fall away, and before you can even react he lifts his wand and rounds on you.
“Confringo!” he shouts, and a blaze of fire soars just past your ear.
“Sebastian,” you call out. “Can you hear me? Don’t do this, please!”
You know it’s fruitless. Sebastian himself had taught you that the Imperius curse cannot be fought off, even by the most powerful wizards who have ever been trained to resist its impenetrable influence. Despite his dueling skills and his broad knowledge of the Dark Arts, you have to assume that Sebastian doesn’t stand a chance against Rookwood’s voice in his ear.
“Levioso!” you counter, hoping to merely hold him off long enough to get to Rookwood and force him to free Sebastian.
But to your chagrin, the Sebastian you’ve known and loved since your first days at Hogwarts is indeed one of the most disciplined and talented duelers you’ve ever fought, and even though he doesn’t want to, he’ll surely give you a run for your money.
“Diffindo!” he growls, and the edge of his curse just barely nicks the side of your calf. You cry out in pain and collapse to the ground as you press a hand to the bleeding wound.
“Want me to release your little friend?” Rookwood calls out. “It’s simple, darling. Join me against Ranrok and I’ll let him live!”
You know deep down that you can’t ally yourself with Rookwood. Despite Sebastian’s initial hesitance, you have to imagine that if he were able to understand your position, he’d do the very same thing that you’re about to do.
It wasn’t the goblins after all, it was him, you can hear him say. We can never join him, not after what he did to Anne. There’s only one way out of this.
Merlin, you think. This is it.
Without your ability to wield ancient magic or the wand made of the Pensieve artifacts, Ranrok may never gain access to the final repository, you convince yourself – especially if he splinters from Rookwood. Sebastian can give the wand to Fig after you’re gone, he can hide it somewhere Ranrok will never find it…
It could all work out, you reckon, if you die.
“Never!” you call out to Rookwood. “I’ll never join you!”
“Then you’ve made your choice,” Rookwood’s voice echoes back. “I’ll let the Sallow boy show you what happens to anyone who says no to me.”
Rockwood’s twisted laughter rings out all around you as Sebastian’s opalescent eyes look you up and down. He lifts his wand and aims it at your heart, and you close your eyes with your own wand at your side.
“Avada Kedavra!”
…You’re still breathing.
How are you still breathing?
When you open your eyes, Sebastian is standing before you looking entirely drained, his eyelids drooping as he sways from pure exhaustion. However, just before he collapses you catch a glimpse of his eyes – his usual warm brown ones, the same magnificent eyes you’ll never tire of seeing after all this.
“Sebastian!” you shout, running over to support him as he tumbles to the ground. “Wh-what just happened?”
“Did I get him?” he asks in a whisper. “Rookwood?”
Stunned, you cast Lumos and peer across the empty field until you notice a figure lying in the snow far at the other end – Rockwood, you assume. He isn’t moving, and his legs are bent in a sick, absurd way as if he’d fallen from the watchtower that he now lays below.
“Yes,” you breathe. “You did, b-but… Sebastian, how did you–”
“I don’t know,” he sighs. He’s clinging to your arm as you help him to sit up and rest his head between his knees. “I have no idea, I just… I couldn’t do it.”
“He wanted you to kill me,” you surmise.
“I wouldn’t,” he says hollowly. “It… felt like my head was being split open right down the middle, with one half of me forcing my body to move and aim my wand and the other half knowing that I’d rather die than use that curse on you.”
“Oh, Seb,” you whisper.
You’re both quiet for several long moments while Sebastian takes deep breaths, his face still hidden between his knees. You slowly rub his back through his cloak and wait for him to sit up. He looks haunted when he finally does – even more so than he usually looks.
“I hurt you,” he mumbles. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“I know, love,” you say softly, the pet name slipping out so easily that you barely even register at first. “I’m okay, it’s just a cut. Some Wiggenweld will fix me right up when we get back to the castle.”
“Can I?” he asks hesitantly, and you reluctantly let him pull your cloak to the slide so he can see the gash on your calf.
It isn’t deep, and it isn’t even bleeding anymore, but the ripped trouser leg and drying blood stains make Sebastian curse under his breath nonetheless.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers. “Why did I do that?”
“You have no choice,” you remind him desperately. “No witch or wizard has ever fought off the Imperius curse like that before, Sebastian, and you spared me my life. I don’t care about a bloody cut when I should be dead.”
“Never,” he chants mindlessly. “Never, I wouldn’t.”
That’s when a thought occurs to you.
“Sebastian…” you say softly. “It’s possible that there are… other types of ancient magic in addition to mine.”
He frowns. “What are you saying?”
“Maybe there’s something… something primeval, something elemental to our magic that you accessed,” you wonder aloud. “Professor Fig told me that his wife Miriam had spent years studying ancient magic, and it can’t only be that which I have the power to wield. Perhaps you were able to defy Rookwood’s will because you – you connected with a magic that’s more powerful than even an Unforgivable.”
“More powerful than that kind of darkness?” he asks softly. “...That type of magic exists?”
“Of course, it must,” you say simply. “Darkness can’t be more powerful than light, can it?”
He considers your supposition as if it’s the first time the thought has ever occurred to him.
“So… so what, the power of ‘friendship,’ something like that?” he asks, a corner of his mouth quirking up into the first thing resembling a smile that he’s shown since you entered Hogsmeade hours ago.
“Something like that,” you tease him. “Maybe the power of ‘love.’”
You’d meant it entirely in a platonic way, but as soon as the words are out of your mouth, Sebastian goes red and ducks his face.
“That’s – that’s ridiculous,” he mumbles. “I mean, love, that’s… Who said anything about love?”
You’re quiet while you watch Sebastian try and fail to gather his thoughts. He’s flailing, and all of a sudden you realize something clear as day that you can’t quite believe you never recognized before.
“Sebastian,” you murmur. “...Do you suppose you broke through an Imperius curse because you’re in love with me?”
“Wh-what?!” he laughs.
“Because if you did, that would be probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, in all the books I’ve ever read,” you continue. “And if that were the case, I would have to tell you that I’m madly in love with you, too.”
Sebastian is stunned into silence.
“You love me?” he eventually whispers.
“I do,” you tell him. “And… and I never really thought about it before, because it doesn’t really feel all that different from being friends with you, except – except I would have let you kill me rather than kill you, even though I know what’s at stake.”
“I still think you should’ve,” Sebastian jokes quietly. “You’re much more important than I am.”
“Regardless, we couldn’t have let Rookwood find out about the last Repository, and I would have taken the Killing Curse to stop him,” you sigh. “I trusted you would have taken the Pensieve wand back to Fig.”
“I would’ve turned my wand on myself first,” Sebastian says plainly. “Without a second thought.”
Merlin, you can’t believe he actually says things like that.
Rather than continuing to dwell on what could have been, you offer him a hand up and support him by the elbow while he shakily makes his way to his feet. He still looks pale and rattled, but he’s able to start to walk toward the exit of the crumbling ruins – still clinging to your hand.
“Come on,” you murmur. “When we get back to the castle you can rest.”
“What about the Repository?” he asks weakly.
“Let me and Fig worry about that,” you murmur. “You’ve already done more than enough for me today, love. You need to recover.”
“M’not even hurt,” he protests, but he sounds utterly depleted.
“Hush,” you whisper. “Just keep holding onto me, alright?”
It’s not easy getting Sebastian back to the castle; he keeps pitching to the side on the back of your broom as he fights to stay conscious, but you manage to keep him from falling off. Despite his protests, you take him straight to Nurse Blainey so he can get some proper rest (and so someone will be forced to keep an eye on him for you).
“Be safe,” he murmurs while you squeeze his hand in his infirmary bed. “Please.”
“I promise, Seb,” you tell him, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Just be here waiting for me when I get back.”
“You’ve made sure of that,” he grumbles, but he offers you an encouraging smile before you leave for the Map Room one final time.
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galedekarios · 1 year ago
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good day! thank you for beautiful visuals and metas of Gale, its great to find fans who care about him so! You got me thinking - for a character so romantic, so delighted to be in love Gale knew little about it with Mystra. He spoke about being her lover like it was a highest honor, losing her favor, being cut off described as fate worse than Netherese Orb itself. Gale agrees to die for her forgiveness no questions asked. All this while he realises deep down even through it was voiced later - he was her plaything, another mortal falling under her spell, no love requited ever could be there, gods don't feel it. It's very sweet and a little heartbreaking, how open and smitten he can be if romanced, how happy he becomes loving and being loved in return.
thank you for your wonderful and very sweet message, anon. 🖤 i really do appreciate it.
yes, that is everything that i find very touching about gale's romancce.
to me, gale is someone who hasn't truly known what love is yet. he has known worship and obedience, wonder and pleasure. i think, considering how young he was when mystra came into his life, it's perhaps no surprise at all that once their relationship changed, he may have thought it was love between them. it was most certainly for him. in fact, i do remember a particular line from early access that always stuck with me and truly showed the imbalance at work here:
Player: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. 
and
Player: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.
and even now, in the full release version of the game, that sentiment still lingers. he wasn't just her chosen, he was her lover - and we learn throughout the game what love truly entails for gale: heart, mind, body and soul.
Gale: I'm many things to many people, but I'm never a man to throw the l-word around lightly. I said exactly what I meant: I love you. You should never, never doubt that. - Gale: We didn't just make love. We bonded, body and soul. I got lost in you.
with mystra casting him away, he not only lost his power, his status, but also one of his most central relationships with the goddess who was his teacher, mentor and love all at once, all at the same time.
but we also know that he had relationships before mystra and before the protag:
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Gale: No, you are not the first. Though you are the first since my relationship with Mystra came to its ignominious end.
i think this quote is just so interesting, especially if you pair it with:
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Gale: To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command... None have loved me so purely before.
and:
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Player: I love you. But for the man that you are. Not the god you'd pretend to be. Gale: But think what I offer. The vastness of eternity to explore, the Weave at our fingertips... You would really prefer me as I am? Node Context: Genuine, vulnerable - the player just told him they loved him in a way that no one else has
so whatever these relationships before were, it's clear that something was missing from them for gale. something that gale sorely needed.
all of these little puzzle pieces combine to a larger whole of why we find gale as he is when we meet him in the story: someone who very much is struggling to find any worth in the person that he is outside of what he can provide to be useful.
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Gale: Let me make myself indispensable. - Gale: I'm indispensable, aren't I? - Gale: My best is yours. - Gale: Please - continue to believe in me. I want to show you the wizard I am capable of being, rather than the poor excuse for a man who's kept you company thus far.
there are so many more of these, following the same vein, even in act iii.
gale is only now learning how to be loved, how to allow himself to be loved, and under that continuous reaffirmation given by the protag, he opens up to it, strains towards it, like a flower to the sun.
Gale: You truly are a soul that steels my own. From all my new-rallied heart I thank you. I stand at a precipice, but if you do not give up hope, neither shall I. I'll fight, I'll resist - as long as I can. - Gale: You give me hope, and I've not had that in some time. - Player: How are you feeling? Gale: Worried, if I'm being honest. I have so much to live for - more than I thought I'd have again, after Mystra. - Gale: It's been so long since I used it. Gale Dekarios cuts a poor figure next to the wizarding prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep'. Player: Gale Dekarios. I think I like him more. Gale: You like so many things about me I'd have sooner discarded... Your generosity is quite wonderful. - Gale: You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting.
he still has a very long way to go, to heal, it's not a process that's completed by the time his quest is completed or the game ends - and depending on your protag, they too have things that still weigh heavy on them as well - but it's a beginning.
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writerinlearning · 1 month ago
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𝐂𝗼𝐥𝗼𝐮𝐫𝐬 | Soulmates AU. Part. Two.
plot: part two of the luke soulmates AU, or in which you do not only see colours when meeting your soulmate but feel their pain as well.
pairing: luke patterson x mercer!fem!reader | sunset curve x mercer!fem!reader | alex mercer x sister!reader | julie molina x mercer!fem!reader
show: julie and the phantoms
warnings: like one or two swear words, maybe?
word count: 6,0k
author’s notes: english is not my first language, apologies for the possible mistakes. this is the second version of this fic. first version has been unpublished. let’s just roll with the fact that julie can see other ghosts for the sake of this story. and also that carlos can see the sunset curve boys after julie saves them from caleb’s stamp, but he cannot see neither reader nor willie.
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luke patterson masterlist || part. one. || main masterlist
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Los Angeles, 2020
Finding your soulmate again in the afterlife should come with a handbook. Yes, the colours had come back to Y/N, but every day they seemed to flicker away from her sight. Whenever that happens, when the world around her turns black and white for an hour or so, she’d sit in a corner of her room, where she’s been locked up for the past few days, and she’d pull her legs against her chest to bury her head between her knees as silent tears roll down her cheeks. She has no idea why this is happening; maybe because both Luke and her were dead, and being dead and soulmates isn’t the same thing as being alive and soulmates. Or something is happening to Luke, and she has every right to be worried; she’d just gotten him back, after twenty-five years. If something happened to him, or to her brother and Reggie because of her, she’d never forgive herself for it. And on top of the colours fading and coming back, jolts of electricity keep coursing through her body, sending her flying backwards into the wall or the couch in her dressing-room, the pain spreading to her chest as the little purple sparks on her wrist fade. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, boy does it hurt like a bitch.
Tonight is no exception. Like usual since she’d found her boys again, Caleb orders her to stay inside her room, as a punishment for the last time she went up against him; which coincidentally was when Willie introduced her to the boys. Every day she wonders what they’re doing, only having occasional information from William when he sneaks into her dressing-room to let her know how the boys are doing whenever he goes to see them. What she doesn’t know is why Willie goes to see them that often, but she knows he’s got his own reasons. Willie, on the other hand, well… He simply can’t find it in him to tell her the truth. He wants to protect her, he’d promised Alex as soon as she’d disappeared that night and did not show up for Caleb’s little show. He couldn’t tell her that Caleb had managed to put his stamp on her brother and his friends, leaving them no choice but to work for him. He doesn’t tell her that they’re planning on crossing over, to be free of Caleb’s stamp, nor does he tell her that he’s helping them do it. He knows she’d been waiting so long to see them again, and he couldn’t tell her she’d never see them again, no matter the outcome of everything. So, he’d decided to keep her in the dark about everything, for a whole week.
Y/N can faintly hear the musical number beginning downstairs when she returns to her senses, but she’s too preoccupied by the pain spreading from her chest and down to her body. It feels like dying again, the floor being swept off from under her feet as she crumbles to the ground, clutching her stomach. Tears prickle the corner of her E/C eyes, threatening to spill down her face and ruining the make-up she isn’t able to take off. Talk about Caleb’s magic. She despises the place, now more than ever knowing there isn’t even the slightest chance she’d see her boys again. She’s trapped in the Hollywood Ghost Club, ever since she’d agreed to that deal. Y/N knows she’ll forever regret that mistake. 
Her body is taken with a slight startle when Willie suddenly appears in the middle of her room. Her eyes go round, mouth hanging open in surprise. She hadn’t seen him in two days, and he seemed rather panicked.
“I’m so– so sorry, Y/N.” William mumbles, kneeling beside her. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you…”
Y/N’s lips, covered in red lipstick, curve into a thin-lipped smile, a trembling breath leaving her chest, and she shifts in her spot to raise a hand against Willie’s cheek. How long do they stay in the comforting silence of her room, they don’t know, but Willie snaps out of it when he hears the faint screams from below them. Y/N then notices that the music's over, and her pulled brows create a frown on her forehead as another jolt of electricity shoots through her body. She doubles over in pain, a groan leaving her lips as she rests her forehead against William’s chest. Her eyes go shut, the prominent lines under them a visible sign of her lack of rest. Sure, ghosts don’t need sleep, but it’s always nice to take a nap once in a while. And Y/N is the female version of her twin brother, a very anxious person. She’s never liked being stuck in a room, alone. This past week has been the worst she’s experienced so far. Well… apart from the year she was alive after the boys’ deaths.
Willie shakes his head solemnly when he sees her state, a sigh leaving past his lips as he scoops the girl in his arms, the coldness of her skin spreading through his. She’s heavy breathing, clinging around his neck as another jolt shocks her, sending her in a coughing fit. The skater knows he won’t be able to poof them both out of the Club and back to Julie’s garage, especially in Y/N’s state. He can only go as far as the street opposite to where the Club is, but they’ll have to walk the rest of the way. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he focuses on the location, before he poofs himself out, still holding onto Y/N.
When the cold air hits her face, Y/N opens her eyes and looks at her surroundings.
“W– why are we here?” She asks, voice wavering. “I– I can’t be out here, I–”
“I need to take you somewhere safer than this place.” Willie interrupts her, his eyes darting to her weak frame. “I won’t let Caleb hurt another one of you.”
At first, she doesn’t understand that he’s speaking about Alex, but it doesn’t take her long to put two and two together as a frown creases her forehead, scrunching up her nose as she overanalyzes Willie’s words, biting on the inside of her cheek. She can tell he’s filled with remorse, and she wonders what has happened while she was locked inside her room. Many thoughts fill her mind and, as much as she doesn’t want to admit it to herself, she knows Caleb had had his ways with the boys that night. Everything suddenly makes sense; the colours fading at the same time as she feels the jolts of electricity, and the colours coming back to her eyesight an hour or two later, the excruciating pain spreading from her chest and down to her body whenever that happens. Caleb had put his stamp on the boys and, because Luke is her soulmate, she can feel his pain. Yeah, soulmates in the afterlife definitely should have come with a handbook or something.
“I think the band’s back.” Luke whispers, smiling at Julie.
A golden aura radiates from his body, his thumb softly brushing against his wrist where the purple stamp had just vanished in a cloud of purple smoke.
“Do you think we could try that hug thing one more time?” Alex asks, his voice soft.
Julike chuckles, nodding her head as she wraps her arms around Alex’s and Reggie’s shoulders, their own arms going around her waist and over Luke’s shoulders, the four of them jumping up and down as they celebrate playing the Orpheum stage. However, their happiness doesn’t last long when Luke breaks away from the embrace, backing away until he falls flat on his butt to the ground as he doubles over in pain. His hands clutch onto his stomach, and he lifts his head up to see the concerned looks of his bandmates.
“Are you okay, Luke?” Julie asks him, voice trembling.
The golden aura around him has faded away, a bright flash of purple appearing on his chest instead. Another groan leaves his lips as he throws his head back against the grand piano behind him. The pain is worse than anything he’s experienced so far; even dying from bad hot dogs seemed sweeter than whatever this is. The colours flicker from his sight and suddenly, Alex’s pink tuxedo blazer becomes a light grey, Reggie’s red vest turns a dark grey, and the blue shirt Julie’s wearing turns darker.
“I– I think something’s wrong with Y/N…” Luke manages to say, a breathy sigh following his words.
“Wh– what do you mean something’s wrong with Y/N?” Alex asks, visibly worried. “Luke, what’s going on?”
Julie watches as Alex walks up to his friend. She knows who the girl is, from the moment she’d met the boys. The blond drummer had told her about his twin sister, admitting that he’d often wondered what Y/N had become since he’d died. Well, that is until he found her at the Hollywood Ghost Club a week ago. But Julie remembers offering her help to look for Y/N with the help of the internet, and she apologized when she couldn’t find anything. She’d found out from Reggie that they’d found her at the Hollywood Ghost Club the night they’d ditched her school dance, but he’d waited until she knew about Caleb to tell her.   
Julie also knows Y/N had been Luke’s soulmate when they were alive, and that she still is even in the afterlife. And, as much as it hurts her because she’s had a crush on the lead guitarist since she’d met him, she knows it’s better as such because she’s aware of who her soulmate is, and it isn’t Luke.
Julie shakes her head, worriedly glancing towards Reggie before her eyes land back on her two bandmates by the grand piano.
“Th– the colours…” Luke breathes out as another jolt of electricity courses through his body. “They’re fading… again.”
“Wh– wh– what do you mean they’re fading again?” Alex speaks fast, his anxiety rising. “That only happens when your soulmate dies, and you’re both already dead!”
“I don’t– I don’t know Alex, okay? They’re just– all I see is black and white, alright?”
Tears prickle the corner of Luke’s already swallowed and bloodshot eyes as another jolt reaches his chest. He groans in pain, clutching his stomach and biting down on his lower lip, throwing his head back again to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. Alex stands up from his kneeled-down position, and he begins to pace back and forth in the studio, tugging at his blond hair in frustration. Reggie takes it upon himself to stand by Luke’s side then, rubbing a hand up and down his bandmate’s back in hopes to ease his pain away
Julie wants to help, too, but she knows nothing about having a ghost soulmate, nor why Luke keeps having the jolts from Caleb’s stamp when she’d witnessed the purple mark vanish from his wrist. She wants to do something, she really does. She hates to see her bandmates, her friends, in pain but she feels utterly helpless in the moment. 
“Hey Julie!” 
The teenage girl turns around at the sound of her name, and she sees her little brother standing by the garage doors with a smile on his face. It soon falters, however, when he seems to notice the two ghosts by the grand piano, and the third one pacing back and forth in the middle of the room.
“What’s wrong with your ghost bandmates?” Carlos asks, pointing to the three boys.
Julie widens her eyes in surprise, spinning on her heels to see the boys’ reactions. Alex stops in his tracks, standing frozen in his spot with his eyes wide open in shock as he looks up to Carlos. Reggie seems equally stunned, lips parted and mouth agape. And Luke… Well, Luke would probably have had the same reaction as his two bandmates, if he wasn’t so focused on the pain in his chest.
“Y– you can see them?” Julie asks her brother, dumbfounded.
“Well, yeah. Now I can.” Carlos smiles.
This is all too confusing for Julie; first she manages to touch them. Then, somehow, hugging them and saying she loves them (which is entirely true, she’d tell you) made the stamp on their wrist vanish. And now, it seems that Carlos can see them too. But she doesn’t have time to ponder her questions, because Alex’s voice cuts through her train of thoughts.
“Willie?” 
Julie lifts her head to look at the drummer, watching as his face falls from shock into concern as he looks past Carlos’ head.
“Oh, my god! What happened?” Alex asks as he rushes outside the studio. 
Julie’s eyes follow him, landing on a boy with long brown hair and holding a girl in his arms. She instantly knows who they are, as Alex takes the H/C-haired girl from the boy’s arms, taking her back inside the studio and carefully laying her down on the black-leathered couch. His hand brushes against her cheek to push away the hair stuck to her face. Her eyes are screwed shut, a frown on her forehead whilst her lips are turned upside down into a pout, hands clutching on her stomach. Her body shakes with another jolt, purple sparks erupting from her chest, and Julie watches as Luke’s body does the same thing, sending him backwards into the grand piano.
“I– I think Luke and Y/N are connected in more ways than just the colours.” Julie mumbles, getting all the boys’ attention.
Even Carlos seems suddenly interested, though he can neither see Willie nor Y/N. All he sees is a body print onto the couch, and Alex leaning against the void, his arm wrapped around nothingness. The situation would have been funny, if his sister did not have that worried look on her face.
“I think,” Julie says, getting closer to Luke, “that, since Luke and Y/N are soulmates, they can feel each other’s pain in the afterlife.”
“So…” Reggie trails out, trying to understand where she is going with her explanation. “Luke isn’t freed from Caleb?”
“It’s Y/N who isn’t.” Alex answers for Julie, his voice wavering. “And the colours vanishing from Luke’s sight means that she’s dying. Again.”
“But– if I was able to save you guys because we’re somehow connected, doesn’t that mean Luke is able to save her?” Julie wonders. “Since they’re soulmates, and all.”
Another jolt causes Luke to bring his knees to his chest, Y/N’s body jerking up onto the couch. She does, however, manage to open her eyes, eyelids half-open over her retinas, but still. She can see the lights around her, something different than when she passed out from the pain in Willie’s arms. She can also no longer feel Willie’s arms, but rather a soft material under her back. Faint and muffled voices reach her ears, but a groan stumbling past her lips makes them stop talking. Y/N tries to sit, pushing herself up with her arms, but she fails and falls back into the couch. She begins to cough, her throat itching as another jolt sends a wave of pain in her chest. She hears someone’s footsteps coming closer and, through half-opened lids, she extends her hand for them to take.
“Hey Y/N.”
Alex’s soft voice reaches her ear, a thin-lipped smile growing on her lips.
“Can you hear me?” He asks, brushing the hair away from her face with his free hand.
Y/N nods her head, letting out a small sob as the pain spreads through her body. With the little strength she has left, she squeezes her twin’s hand, her head falling onto the armrest of the couch.
“It’s okay Y/N. You’re safe here. And– we’re going to find something, alright?” 
Alex doesn’t know if he’s trying to reassure himself or his sister, but he isn’t certain it’s working for either of them. Still, he smiles when she slowly nods her head, letting him know she’d heard him.
“L– Luke?” Y/N croaks out, coughing. “Wh– where’s Luke?”
At the mention of his name, the lead guitarist from Julie and the Phantoms lifts his head up, glancing at Alex and who stands by the couch. The blond drummer nods his head softly, and both Julie and Reggie help Luke as he tries to stand up, making his way to the couch.
“Hey you.” Luke chuckles, kneeling down next to the couch. “Where have you been for the past week?”
He can guess where she’s been, but he just felt the need to ask her. He’s not certain she’s able to answer, but when he sees her lips turn upwards in a broken smile, he knows she’s heard him. He holds her hand when he catches a glimpse of her trying to reach for his, and he uses his free one to run it through her hair, knowing how much she loves it when he does so. Another chuckle leaves his lips, tears silently rolling down his cheeks as she laughs a little, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss onto her forehead.
“Does it–” Y/N tries to speak, her voice hoarse from the pain. “Does it hurt you– as much as it hurts me?”
Luke nods his head, closing his eyes when he leans his forehead against hers, and he feels her try to weakly squeeze his hand.
“I love you, Y/N.” Luke whispers through tears.
It’s not the first time that he says those words, but it’s the first time in twenty-five years that Y/N hears them again. And she knows that, if she still had a heart, it would be beating out of her chest while butterflies swarm the pit of her stomach, just like when they were alive. She can still remember the feelings, even when on her deathbed. Again.
“I love you more.” Y/N whispers back, somehow managing to press her free hand against his cheek.
The pain subsides inside Luke’s chest, his body quickly recovering from all the jolts of electricity he’s endured. He’s surprised, at first, and it takes a minute for his brain to process what’s happening. He sees Y/N’s hand fall limp at her side, the loss of her touch against his cheek sending shivers down his spine, and he watches as her eyelids drop shut at the same time his vision turns black and white. He backs away from the couch with a jump at the sudden change in his eyesight, almost knocking Julie off her feet as his back collides with her front, but in the same minute he’s kneeling back in front of the couch; his teary eyes roaming across Y/N’s peaceful features as he cradles her face in his hands.
“Luke?” Julie calls him, brows furrowing together. No answer.
“Y/N?” It’s Alex who calls out his twin next, letting go of Willie’s hand as he gets closer to the couch. “Y/N?”
No answer. Alex turns his head to look at Willie, eyes wide and filled with worry and fear. But William can only shake his head as his shoulders rise in a little shrug. He doesn’t know what’s happening either. He’s seen what happens to ghosts gone rogue, however, and to his knowledge they cease to exist after they’ve been stamped by Caleb. He’s seen how it goes, and he knows that the jolts should have killed Y/N, making her disappear from the face of the Earth. Even if she went against Caleb only once.
“What’s happening, Julie?” Carlos asks his sister.
He still cannot see neither Y/N nor Willie, so seeing everyone getting agitated and teary-eyed is all the more confusing to him. Julie has almost forgotten that her brother could see the boys now, and she’d certainly forgotten that he’s still in the garage, with everything that’s been happening in the last hour or so. She wants to answer him, but she sees Reggie standing besides her brother, and she shakes her head when he jumps slightly the moment Reggie’s hand finds his shoulder. Reggie is even surprised that his hand doesn’t go through the boy, like it normally should have. He doesn’t complain though, nor does he say anything. He only pulls the younger boy in his arms, engulfing him in a hug. Julie and Carlos only leave the garage when they’re forced to go; Alex pleading with them to at least have a couple hours of sleep, and telling the siblings they’d still be here in the morning.
When morning comes, Reggie goes to join the Molinas for breakfast, although he still cannot eat anything. He just enjoys their company. Alex stays by his sister’s side, brushing his hand through her hair gently. She looks the same as he had last seen her, with the same slightly red cheeks, her lashes perfectly hitting her cheekbones when her eyes are closed. He spends his time watching her, afraid that if he’d look away, she’d disappear from his sight. He remembers all the childhood memories they shared, tears silently rolling down his cheeks. The only difference now between them is the fact that she’s a year older than him, dying when she turned eighteen while he passed away a while after their seventeenth birthday. But in his eyes, she’d always be his little sister, younger by twenty minutes.
And then, there’s Luke. Luke handles it the way you’d handle losing your soulmate. One day, he sees the colours again, and a week later his world suddenly goes black and white. And while you’re supposed to experience this only once in your life, he’s experienced it twice. And he hates every part of it. He knows now what Y/N had to go through, when he died back in 1995, and it’s way worse than what he’d imagined. Having the colours snatched from you, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see them again, it’s heart wrenching.
Luke sits in a chair facing the couch, with a song book in his lap. He holds a pen in his right hand as he angrily scribbles down words and words on a blank page, crossing those who do not fit into the lyrics he’s trying to put together. It keeps his mind busy, allows him to think about something other than Y/N’s body laying on the couch. But his swollen eyes betray him, letting everyone know just how much he’s been crying since Willie showed up with her the night before. And Alex can hear his soft crying from where he sits; it’s the only sound in the studio. From time to time though, Luke does lift his head up to glance at the couch, as a way of making sure she’s still here; that she hasn’t vanished. Willie did tell them that Y/N should have ceased to exist when the jolts stopped, and that her still being here must mean something. It’s that little spark of hope that Luke holds onto, as he goes back to writing more words onto the pages in front of him.
Eventually, Alex leaves his sister’s side when Willie shows up to the garage. He knows how close to his sister his friend is, and if there’s a way to save her, they’d find it together. Even if it means getting caught by Caleb. Again. His sister is worth taking the risk. And if Willie is willing to risk his afterlife for Y/N, then so is Alex; for the both of them.
It’s only when Willie and Alex poof out of the garage that Luke gives up on writing lyrics. Instead, he finds himself wandering to the couch, sitting himself on the floor as he takes one of Y/N’s hands in his. His calloused fingers draw small circles against the back of her hand, his tired eyes never once leaving her peaceful features. He leans his forehead against hers, his free hand running through her hair and gently grazing at her scalp, tears escaping the corner of his eyes.
“I love you.” Luke whispers, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
He doesn’t know why he’s apologizing. Maybe because he feels guilty; guilty that she’d suffered the jolts because she only tried to protect him from Caleb. Or maybe it’s because he knows what she had to go through after he died, and he doesn’t understand how she went on with her life for a year, knowing she’d never see colours again.
He lifts his head up when he hears the garage door creak open, and he looks over his shoulder to see both Julie and Reggie standing in the doorframe, with sadness in their eyes. Luke sighs, removing his hand from Y/N’s hair to wipe away the tears on his cheeks.
“Are you okay, Luke?” Julie asks him, her voice filled with concern.
The guitarist doesn’t say anything, his voice getting caught up in his throat. But Julie knows he isn’t fine, from his bloodshot eyes and the tear stains on his cheeks. Just as he’s about to stand up, he stops dead in his tracks when he feels a weak squeeze on his hand. He stops all movement, holding his breath (as if he needed to breathe) as he whips his head around, eyes wide open in shock as he watches his soulmate’s eyelids flutter open slowly. His mouth hangs agape, and he drops back to the floor on his knees. His free hand finds its way back into her hair, caressing it softly, his own eyes teary as hers open slowly.
It’s as if the world stops, when he can finally see her E/C irises; now bright and colourful in his sight. Shades of black and white fade around him, slowly being replaced with the many colours he’d come to love so much when he could see them. He lets out a relieved sigh, closing his eyes for a brief second, before he looks at her again. His hands cradle her face, and he brushes his thumbs across her cheekbones, afraid that if he’d let go, she’d disappear.
“L– Luke?” Y/N calls out his name, her voice hoarse, but he knows it’s real. She’s here. “Wh– what happened?” She asks him. “Wh– why are we in the studio?”
Although it had changed a lot since the last time she’d been there, she’d recognize the walls and the ceiling anywhere. And besides, the boys’ instruments are still there so it’s an easy guess for her.
“Willie brought you here last night.” Luke tells her, a smile on his lips. “You were feeling the jolts I felt and– and it nearly killed you. Again…”
His brows crease a frown on his forehead. He hasn’t seen the mark vanish from her wrist, or at least, he doesn’t recall it disappearing. He remembers she told him she’d been stamped; she’d made a deal with Caleb after she died. He does the first thing that comes to mind, picking up her arm and inspecting her wrist. He’s surprised to find black ink on her skin, instead of a purple stamp, but most of all he’s relieved he cannot find Caleb’s mark on her anywhere. It means she’s free.
“Well, that’s new.” Luke comments, chuckling as he points at her wrist.
“Yeah…” Y/N breathes out. “I got it two months after you guys died. You were the closest I had to a family. Well, Alex really was my family.”
“I love it.” 
“Me too.” 
Y/N, with Luke’s help, pushes herself up so that she’s now sitting on the couch. Her eyes on her wrist, she admires the back ink in the shape of a sun setting down behind the horizon, the ocean waves forming a curve under it. It’s simple, but Y/N loves that tattoo more than anything. Alive, it’d been a reminder that the boys would always be by her side, no matter what happens. Seeing it again after twenty-four years is a relief. She’d known it was there all along, but Caleb’s stamp had been a constant reminder of the freedom she had given up over his fake promises. But now, she’s not tied to Caleb anymore, and she isn’t quite sure of what to do with this newfound freedom. She’d probably do something stupid with the boys, like they’d always do back in 1995. 
Smiling softly, Y/N lifts her eyes from the ink on her skin, hearing the sound of footsteps coming closer. She glances up at the garage doors, now noticing her brother, her best friend, Willie, and a girl she doesn’t know.
“Y– Y/N?” Alex stutters, his voice going an octave higher in surprise.
“Hey Alex.” Y/N greets her twin brother, waving her hand. “Hi Reggie.”
“Please don’t scare us like that again!” The bassist exclaims, sighing in relief.
Y/N giggles, her body falling back a little under the weight of two seventeen-year-olds engulfing her in a bear hug. She wraps her arms around the both of them, glancing over Reggie’s shoulders with pleading eyes to Luke. He only smiles, shaking his head a little in disbelief.
“I don’t know how or why this is happening.” Alex begins, waving his hands in the air once he pulls away from his twin. “But I am so glad you’re back, shortie!”
“Hey!” Y/N pouts, hearing that nickname. “Do I need to remind you I’m actually a year older than you now?”
“Yeah, well… you’re still short in height.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“Y/N?” Luke calls her, taking her hand in his.
He helps her stand up from the couch, leading her to the garage doors where Willie and Julie still stand, observing the scene. Y/N glances at Willie, letting go of Luke’s hand to wrap her arms around the skater’s shoulders, going onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.
“Thanks Will.” 
Willie smiles; she’s the only one allowed to call him that.
“I’d do anything for you, Y/N.” Willie states, tightening his embrace around her. “You’re like a sister to me.”
A small smile curves Alex’s lips; he’s glad they’re getting along, because he’s yet to tell his sister that he’s finally found his soulmate in Willie.
“Y/N.” Luke calls out for her once again, his hands over Julie’s shoulders. “This is Julie. She’s a Lifer, and she can see us. They guys and I are also in a band with her, and when we sing together, she can make us visible to other Lifers.”
“Y– you can see me?” Y/N asks when her eyes land on the teenage girl. 
“Yeah.” Julie chuckles. “You’d think I’d be used to it with these three,” she says, pointing at the three boys. “But I’m not. It’s nice to meet you, and to finally be able to put a face on a name.”
Y/N tilts her head in confusion, brows pulled together and creasing a frown on her forehead.
“When I found out about the Hollywood Ghost Club and Caleb,” Julie begins to explain. “The boys also told me they’d seen you. And they haven’t stopped talking about you since. Especially Luke.”
Y/N chuckles. “I’m sorry you had to deal with them alone.”
A chorus of ‘heys!’ and grumblings reach her ears, which only fuels her laughter, especially when her eyes meet with Luke’s angry puppy face. Oh, how she had missed her boys.
Y/N and Julie spend the rest of the morning getting to know each other, until Luke comes and claims to ‘steal Y/N for the rest of the day’ as he puts it to his bandmate. And here they are now, walking hand in hand by the seashore, bare feet into the sand. Kids’ laughter is all around them, the waves crashing near their feet producing a peaceful sound. Luke soon finds a quiet spot, where no one but them is, and he spins on his heels to face Y/N. He lifts a hand up to cup her cheek against his palm, his thumb brushing over the soft but cold skin of her cheekbone as he delicately wipes away a lash that had fallen on her face. His touch is light against her skin, like a feather, and it results in a thin-lipped smile to grow on her lips. 
Y/N blinks twice, tilting her head against the palm of his hand resting on her face. Her E/C eyes are locked onto his hazel ones, glistening with the adoration and love she has for the seventeen-year-old boy before her. He’s heavenly looking; his mop of brown hair falling in strands on his forehead, covered by that orange beanie he loves so much, his hazel green eyes gazing back into hers with love and tenderness, and the gentle smile that graces his features. Just the sight of him could have made her heart flutter, if she still had one, and the butterflies to erupt at the bottom of her stomach.
The world around them seems to have vanished, the kids’ laughter now a distant memory and the waves crashing down the shore a distant sound. The warm Los Angeles wind is blowing, caressing their faces in soft breezes. The birds chirp their joyful melody in the distance, harmonizing together as the sun shines bright into the clear blue sky. Y/N’s bare feet dig into the cold sand, and she lets her gaze fall from Luke’s face, turning around to look at the vast blue ocean before them, settling her back against his chest.
Luke’s arms find their way around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and he rests his chin atop the crown of her head. His smile grows wider when she begins to play with the rings around his fingers, balancing their bodies back and forth.
“I think blue’s my favourite colour.” Y/N says after a while. “Any shade of blue, actually.”
“Why’s that?” Luke mumbles against her temple after pressing a soft kiss there.
“Sometimes, the ocean reminds me of your eyes. They were the first colour I ever saw, dead or alive. And I’ve noticed, over the years, how their colour would change. Sometimes they’re green, or hazel. But there are these occasional times where your eyes turn blue, the same shade as the ocean. I could– I could drown in your eyes if I wanted to.”
Y/N turns in his arms to look at him, her hands on each side of his face. Luke’s hands stay on her waist, his eyes boring into hers.
“Which colour are they now?” He asks, a love-struck smile on his lips.
“As blue as the ocean.” She whispers, smiling, before she kisses his cheek.
Luke chuckles, inching his face closer to her again, his lips brushing against hers. Y/N giggles, shaking her head in disbelief as her hands find their way at the back of his neck, her fingers tangled into his hair, and her lips crashing against his. His grip on her waist tightens, pulling her even closer if that were possible, an euphoric feeling fogging both their minds. Y/N stands on her tiptoes, deepening the kiss, and Luke uses this as his opportunity to bite down on her lower lip, eliciting a surprised moan from her. He smiles victoriously against her lips before he takes her bottom one between his teeth, and he pulls at it slightly before watching it fall back into a pout on her face. His right hand moves up from her waist, pulling a strand of hair away from her face before resting on her cheek. He gazes into her eyes, love and adoration in his, whilst his lips carve a gentle smile on his face.
“I’ve missed you, baby.” Luke whispers against her lips.
“I’ve missed you more, rockstar.” Y/N smiles. “Don’t ever leave me again.”
“I’d never dream of it. I love you too much to let you go.”
“Good. Because I love you, too. And I’m not planning on letting you go either.” Y/N states, pulling Luke in for yet another kiss.
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husbandhoshi · 2 years ago
Note
LILY HI ITS ME STAR!!! HOW ARE YOU I LOVE U AND WISH U ALL THE BEST MUAH MUAH!! also: perhaps smth a little naughty at 11:36 PM with lab partner!wonwoo 👀👀
tags: college!au, inexperienced!wonwoo x f!reader, nerd!wonwoo, experienced!yn, oral (m!receiving)
[11:36]
wonwoo has never liked chemistry.
the periodic table looks like a colorful placemat and a titration might as well be a long winded recipe for a terrible cocktail. (although the ones at the delta tau delta chemistry themed party were good. they served them in little beakers, and wonwoo thought those were quite cute. that was also the party where he met you.)
speaking of you—unlike chemistry, wonwoo does, however, like you a great deal.
which makes chemistry much more tolerable because you are his lab partner.
on the first day of lab, when they had asked the class to pair up, you walked over to him, and wonwoo almost melted right into the ground.
"you're the only one here i know," you whispered, waiting for him to lean down to your height. he did, and you smelled like cherries. "we talked at the delt party. wonwoo, right?"
"yes, i'm wonwoo," he had said, words tripping and tumbling off of his tongue like he was learning to speak for the first time.
it was no better at the party, except he was drunk and you were drunker, and you had made the grave mistake of asking him what classes he was taking. two mike's hard lemonades and a battery acid vodka shot later, his dumb ass was still talking about emily dickinson, and you, somehow, were standing there in those mile-high heels, listening as if he was the most interesting guy at the party.
i think she's totally into you, mingyu had said, in that loud, spitty cadence he has when he's 90% beer.
don't be ridiculous.
but then you had asked wonwoo to walk you to your dorm, and you took the long way, winding right through campus.
he doesn't dream often, but he thinks the one he had that night was red and smelled like your lip gloss.
now, he thanks god for the miracle that is you in an oversized hoodie and shorts in his room past sundown.
granted, you're there to work on the last lab report of the term, and he had seen you just two nights ago at the kappa party, but wonwoo thinks he likes this version of you best. (that night, you had tried to break in your new heels. he ended up holding onto them, and you ended up holding onto him on the drunken stumble home. whether it was for support or for something else, wonwoo doesn't know, but he wishes he wore something different than the ratty polo from the back of his closet.)
"thanks for all your help," you say, closing your lab notebook. "i don't know how you're so good at all of this."
"i'm not," he laughs. he hands you your pencil case with the sailor moon charm, the one you were so proud to show him when he mentioned he watched anime. "it was all you."
you wave him off and bend down to put your things in your bag.
wonwoo tries his best to avert his eyes. he really does.
it's a valiant effort. there's a book out of order on his shelf (anna karenina, tolstoy). he really should have put that gundam figure away before you came over.
and your ass is perfect, but that doesn't really surprise him because he doesn't think there is a single thing wrong with you.
"you know," you start, still rifling around in your bag. "i heard something real interesting from mingyu the other day."
"hm?"
wonwoo changes the backlight color of his keyboard. it does not make him calmer. instead he feels all the peely leather on his gaming chair poke through his sweats and he tries not to think about the little birthmark you have on the back of your thigh.
"he told me that..." you stand straight and turn to face him. there's a fresh coat of gloss on your lips, like a magic trick. "you have a crush on me."
wonwoo doesn't know what to say. he likes to think before he speaks but now you're walking towards him and thinking isn't really an option anymore.
"right?"
"um."
not good. he didn't think he was that obvious but he's no liar.
"fine, i'll start." you're standing right in front of him now, and he thinks the gulp he takes is audible. "i like you."
he watches your lips form around the words, glittery and confident, and if he wasn't doomed before, he certainly is now.
his near perfect gpa is doing jack shit to help him understand why someone like you, gorgeous and funny and smart and popular, would ever take a second look at the gangly boy in the glasses.
but you are—in fact, you're staring with an intensity that makes him afraid you can actually see right through all the clothes he's got on.
"i—" come on, wonwoo thinks. they're the words he wanted to tell you outside your dorm building three weeks ago when you said you didn't know anyone quite like him. "i like you too. a lot."
"good."
the first thing he learns is that you're forward, and he likes that.
the second thing he learns is that your lip gloss tastes like cherry.
your mouth is hot and soft on his. he thinks he died and went to heaven, and then you're kissing him again, catching his bottom lip between your teeth so he whines into your mouth.
the last time he tried kissing was during senior prom. his date stood on her tiptoes and he accidentally bumped his nose into hers and missed her mouth and the whole thing was a disaster.
and yet now, wonwoo feels like he's melted right into your hands. you lead and his body just knows how to follow.
"you're shy, huh?" you murmur, pulling back to look at him. "that's so cute."
he doesn't quite know what he looks like but his glasses are slipping down his nose and he feels the menthol sting of your lips all over his. there has never been this much blood in his cheeks but that doesn't quite make sense to him because he feels all of it going straight to his dick.
"you're perfect," is what the primordial ooze in wonwoo's brain manages to put together.
you kiss him again, and when he remembers to relax his lips enough, you're slipping your tongue in and letting him suck, and you moan.
wonwoo swears he could have blown his load right there and then—when it came to you, it really didn't take much, and now he's wondering what your skin tastes like, craving the cherry of your cunt.
your hand on his chest, sharp nails and glittery rings, trails down nice and slow. it feels like he's on fire. it's a wonderful distraction from the sensation of your teeth on the pretty, taut skin over his collarbone, but then you're biting and licking and he feels his balls get so tight and heavy in his pants he might just cry.
and then your hand comes to rest on his lap, right over his hardness, and wonwoo's about to protest—no, no, sorry, i don't mean to have a boner! i've never been kissed like that before in my life!—until you drop to your knees, right in between his parted thighs.
"has anyone ever touched you like this?" you say, voice low, dizzying. "anyone ever made you feel good?"
he shakes his head no, a new, sudden wave of desire climbing his bones.
mussed hair and swollen lips, you look more beautiful than anyone wonwoo's ever seen in his entire life. he doesn't know what he did in a past life to earn this but he must have saved the world.
"p-please," he says, but it's somewhere between a moan and a gasp because you're palming him through his sweats, the sensation foreign, thrilling.
"patience," you tease, and he would be morbidly embarrassed at the spot of precum on his pants if you weren't already thumbing at it yourself.
once you take his cock out of his sweats, he knows he's losing whatever battle he was fighting. he sees how your hand looks so little around it, and it's his nth struggle to make sure he doesn't just cum in your face. maybe another day, if he's so lucky.
"i-i might cum really fast," he confesses, because he doesn't know how to really say he's never gotten a blowjob before.
"good," you answer. unlike him, somehow you always know exactly what to say.
the third thing wonwoo learns that day is that he's fully, wholly, entirely obsessed with your mouth. with your slick bottom lip, with your tongue, and now with the way he sees your gloss-smeared mouth wrap taut around his cockhead.
wonwoo can never return to watching porn again. there is simply no one quite like you.
"f-fuck," he pants, the feeling overtaking him all at once. "feels so good, mouth's so good—"
one look at your eyes, big and watery and good for him, and he feels his cock twitch in your mouth. and then you start moving; you take him all the way to the base and then some. he feels your tiny little throat close around him, and the groan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic. he never thought he was that big, but seeing your eyes well up and your mascara get all dewy as you gag around him is doing something crazy to his brain.
it doesn't take long for you to fall into an easy rhythm. you're figuring him out so fast, and that would scare him if it didn't feel so good. your tongue's on his veins, the underside of his cockhead, and he's already gripping the armrests of his chair with white knuckles.
you sink down again and swallow around his length, let your throat do all the work, and wonwoo throws his head back, chest heaving. his eyes flutter shut, and the fluorescent ceiling light phases in and out of vision as you give him what could possibly be the best head you've ever given someone in your whole life.
"gonna cum s-soon," wonwoo manages. "you're so fucking hot."
it's either a moan or a whimper that comes out of you when he says that, and he thanks his lucky stars he has the wherewithal to put that information in his back pocket. he doesn't know when or how but his plan is to return the favor to you in full. and if that involves a copious amount of praise, he's all the better prepared because he has no shortage of nice things to say about you.
you take him once, twice to the base and wonwoo feels all the heat in his balls and his belly and then he's cumming, more and harder than he ever thought possible. he almost thinks it's like a piece of his soul was taken from him.
"d-don't have to swallow," he says, but you do, every last fucking drop until it's dribbling from your perfect mouth, and wonwoo is now fully convinced you are a real life goddess.
i'm an addict in the making, he thinks, but then you smile at him with those eyes, and he doesn't think that's such a bad thing.
he searches for the right words to say, something cool, experienced. it's a constant effort to be that guy for you because he's still not really sure why any of this happened.
"stop thinking so hard," you say, coughing once, then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "i can see your wheels turning."
how you can read him so easily is beyond him. he wonders if you knew he was in love with you the second he laid eyes on you at the delta tau party.
where are my manners, wonwoo then remembers, and the post-nut clarity possesses him to brush the hair out of your eyes and help you up from your position on the ground.
"i like you. i don't care how experienced you are."
he hears you, and he believes you. instead of arguing, he cups your tear-streaked face in his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe your cheeks.
"plus, i think i'm a pretty good teacher."
you smile, and wonwoo has the confidence to kiss you back, for real this time.
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