#just waiting for faculty to call in sick

[kentucky-daisey]

Working spring break camps is everyone, including the admin team, getting sick.

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P31 | first steps ahead

TW : suicide

All throughout the meeting, Yangyang had his eyes fixated on you, and only you. So after the meeting was concluded, you practically teleported to the door, not giving Yangyang the chance to catch up to you.

Your shoulders flinched, and you felt your soul leaving your body for a second when a hand wrapped itself around your arm just after taking four hurried steps outside the meeting room.

You turned around to see it was Mark, surprised to see you so spooked, but guilt quickly bled through, realising you had a mob waiting outside your building this morning. No wonder you were so startled. He quickly let go of your arm, raising both arms in front of him.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to spook you after what happened this morning. I just wanted the chance to talk to you." He actually sounded apologetic this time, you gave him that.

When you saw Yangyang approaching from behind Mark, you took hold of Mark's wrist and pulled him along as you walked away, trying to get as far away from Yangyang as possible.

"You wanna talk? Let's go." You spoke through your teeth, taking a turn to go down the stairs, as you led a dumbfounded Mark by the wrist.

Yangyang clicked his teeth watching you run away with Mark and turned on his heel, paying no mind to Aeri and Xiaojun calling out his name as he walked past them.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

You let go of Mark's wrist, looking around. It was a secluded spot far away from the MPA Faculty's parking lot, so you're sure you wouldn't have any chance of running into Yangyang as he had drove here. When you finally addressed Mark, his mind snapped back into the reality. He had been staring at you as he touched the wrist you gripped on earlier. He can't remember the last time you had your hand on his person.

"I—I wanted to apologise. To you." He uttered out, voice sounding almost choked up, as if his voicebox didn't expect to be used in this moment.

"For what? It's not like you were the one who caused MNA Week to happen three weeks earlier—"

"No—not about that, but for how I had treated you days after our impromptu...reunion." He interrupted your assumption, taking a step closer to you.

He saw your face twist in confusion and he realised you weren't aware of Yuno sharing a screenshot of your crash out messages with him. He schooled his expression, trying to summon the courage of being able to humble himself before you, after all these years. To not let his ego and ardent loyalty to his longtime friend mess this up.

"Yuno, he showed me the texts you sent to him yesterday. You mentioned how my apology from the other day was really insincere, so here I am redoing it. I want to give you a more sincere apology that's actually deserving of your acceptance. Whether you forgive me or not is entirely up to you."

Instead of your empression turning stiff, he instead saw how it turned into an angry one. You were sick of people trying to expose your identity as Yuno's 'bitch' sister to the public, of your privacy being intruded on by psycho fans—and now Yuno sharing a screenshot of your heartfelt texts to Mark? When you turned to walk away, Mark was quick to hold on to you with a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/N! I admit it was shitty of him to share those texts with me, but trust me, if I hadn't seen them, I wouldn't realise just how unreasonable your brother and I had been to you." He pled, making you stop in your tracks.

You were still facing away from him, but you didn't move an inch. When you remained in your spot, still frozen, even after he let go of your shoulder, he took that as an encouragement to keep on talking to you.

"Last week, I only apologised to you because I saw how it was hurting our bureau's progress, when I should've apologised for hurting your feelings with how much of a dick I was. You had only ever been polite and even nice to me ever since you splashed tea on my jacket that day. I had been nothing but nasty to you, and I'm sorry for that—"

"Shut up, Mark." You spoke snappily, and the poorly hidden choked sob right after was what stopped him from feeling so offended.

He glanced at your shoulders and saw how it was trembling, as you tried to keep your crying to a minimum volume at all cost. Slowly, he rested his hand on your shoulder and turned you around. There were tears streaming down your face, your nose red, and your eyes were at risk of getting swollen shut from all the crying.

How much had you been crying these past two days?

It's been so long since he's seen you cry, and the last time he did see you cry, it was over him cutting his ties with you in that highschool hallway.

"...It's my fault. It's all my fucking fault this is happening. Yuno—that clip of him cussing me out—it's my own fault." You sobbed, sliding down to crouch on the floor as you broke down.

After snapping out of the shock of seeing you cry, Mark quickly crouched down too, placing his hands awkwardly around you. Slightly panicking while also bewildered as to why you're breaking down like this.

"All of this wouldn't happen if I didn't cause Yuno to hate me so much—but why wouldn't he? He thinks I abandoned him and dad when they needed me most—but I didn't contact him because I shouldn't! Because if they knew I had other family members, they'd go after Yuno too! And dad! I had to protect them, so I did what I had to do—" You sobbed, and didn't realise Mark going still at your words.

"Y/N, what are you talking about? Protect Jae from who? By doing what?" He urged, growing concerned over your ramblings and how alarming it all sounded.

Who was 'they'? Why would 'they' go after Yuno and your father if 'they' knew about them? What did 'they' put you through?

"I can't—I can't tell you, and I can't talk about it. Because it still hurts just remembering it—and Yuno shouldn't know, because I know how much it would crush him. You know just how close we were back then, Mark. It would crush him."

Mark's heart broke over at the self-blaming—because he could really see that you genuinely believed it to be your fault that all of this happening to you. Then there's your near incoherent ramblings, at how much you deserved Yuno's hatred, but also how conflicted you were at how much it would crush Yuno to know the things you did to 'protect him and your father'.

He placed his hands on both sides of you face, raising it so your eyes met his.

"Y/N, whatever it is, you should talk to Yuno about it. He never stopped caring for you. He deserves to know—"

"NO! Mark, you don't—"

"Understand? Of course I don't understand, you have told me nothing about what had happened to you, and judging by how much it's driving me crazy to know what it actually is—I know Jae would feel the same. If the reason why you didn't contact Jae before is to protect him, he deserves to know why now." Mark spoke softly, but you could hear how grounded his voice was, and felt how his hands went up and down your arms to comfort you.

"But I don't want him to feel guilty. He doesn't deserve it." You sniffled, your tears slowing down and your breathing in control now.

You looked Mark's well coached expression fall apart. Something hit his chest and he could feel a stone lodged itself in his throat for a moment.

"He should be apologsing to you nonetheless. His behavour was absolutely inexcusable, and the same goes for me too. I'm sorry for acting like a dick, and I'm sorry for not being there for you when you probably needed me. I would really like to see you give Jae the same opportunity to apologise to you sincerely, Y/N." He could feel his own voice wobble but who gives a fuck?

You were silent for a second, your eyes falling away from his as you stared at a spot far beyond him for a long moment before you nodded. Everyone's been telling you the same thing, and all of them had cared for you, this advice coming from their concern over you, and in a complete cycle, the concern that was stemmed from how much they cared for you.

But oh God, it still terrified you just how easy it is for concern and worry could turn to a hindrance. It was risk to let these people in.

But it was now a risk you had to bet on.

When you got to the apartment, you saw Yuno sleeping on the couch with Spotify playing on the TV. You wondered if he waited for you. After Mark managed to convince you to start opening up, he and you went out to have an early dinner together, and you even brought a takeout order that you knew Yuno would like.

It was nice to be able to spend time with Mark like that, when he's not hating you for something you had no control over. You always knew you missed him, but you didn't realise that much. Did you still like him?

Mark also told you about how Yuno was planning to apologise to you sincerely, so you assumed tonight would be a good time for both your brother and you to get everything out of the way. Everything. You walked up to him, shaking his shoulders lightly to wake him up.

Yuno opened his eyes to you standing beside him, holding a delicious smelling container in one hand. Oh damn, what time was it? He last ate during lunch hour. He sat up groggily, rubbing on his eyes as you walked to the kitchen area's island. The same island you, Geonwoo and Woojin used having your really late and unhealthy dinner.

"Wha—what time is it?" He spoke out in a relatively deeper voice than he usually used.

"It's nearly 7 p.m. I brought you takeout, so come here and eat." You patted on the takeout you placed on the island, and watched as Yuno took a minute to gather his bearings and thoughts as he fought away his sleepiness, all the while he stayed seated on the couch.

You could see, even from just the side of his face, on how he's processing his surroundings right now. Right, you. His younger sister. His estranged younger sister that he's been nothing but an asshole to, when she's rightfully upset at the situation his carelessness put her through. Apology. Yes. He needs to apologise you, more sincerely this time.

The girl at the kitchen area island—his younger sister. You. You brought him takeout. Wait, you brought him takeout? You were being nice with him? He hadn't apologised yet.

"Yuno, come on. The food's going to get cold." Yuno.

He sat up and briskly walked to the island, hair sticking out in all different directions with eyes peeled wide. After you pushed the takeout container to him, he moved to open it but suddenly came to a stop, opening his mouth to speak but you were already away, pouring him a tall glass of water for him.

As you placed the glass near him, you noticed he wasn't touching his takeout, much less even opened it yet. Yuno opened his mouth again, adamant for tonight to be the night.

"I want to have a moment with you first. We need to talk." You could hear his voice wavering despite its attempt to sound grounded and serious. However, considering the determined look he was wearing, you decided to follow along.

"Okay, so we're doing this before you have your dinner then. What do you want to talk about, Yuno?" You moved to take a seat beside him.

He nodded, eyebrows scrunching as he gathered his words.

"I...I want to apologise to you, sincerely, for everything. I've been nothing but an asshole to you ever since I moved in, when I know you're doing me a favour by letting me rent here. Even more so, when you still let me stay here after how...insensitive I'd been to you for the chaos I caused you. That video clip of me cussing you out, the words I used—it's inexcusable." The more he talked, the more his eyes went down to stare at your feet instead.

"It was inexcusable, and your insensitivity to my very valid reaction to the mess actually hurt me more than the witch hunt itself, but—it's not like I'm unaware where your...anger came from. I'm still the girl that abandoned her own brother and father." You spoke with a bitter voice.

Your words made his eyes snap back up again.

"No, that's still no excuse—"

"Yuno, I'm not excusing your actions, I was just pointing out the root cause of this situation—which is your inability to wrap your head around my decision to live with mom after the divorce was finalised. You're even more angry at the fact I never contacted you again after I moved away." You rested your elbow on the island.

After a few beats of silence, his shoulders sagged, and even his head dropped. He was admitting to it.

"Y/N, can you blame me? Like, I get it, I really do. You were always closer to mom anyway, but the radio silence? And the fact that you weren't there for dad when he was diagnosed with lung cancer? I—just as I was about to accept the reality that you chose to live with mom, your radio silence really made it seem like you didn't want anything to do with us anymore."

You see the tension working its way up his shoulders, and you quickly held his hands—both of them.

"Yuno, I'm not...It's been a while since I last saw mom too, and her husband...he's been dead for a while." Your voice wavered as your lips trembled, opting to stare at his kncuckles instead of facing him directly.

"What?"

You gathered your strength and worked through that pebble lodged in your throat, spitting it out with one big deep breath.

"Um—gosh. Shit. I've never told this to anyone who doesn't already know. Uh, four years ago, my stepdad's business was getting hit with major losses, investors were backing out, and once he got desperate enough, he turned to take out loans from a loanshark." You explained slowly, but mainly because these words were fighting their out to get clawed out of your chest.

It was hard. This was really fucking hard.

"His business still went under, by the way. Hah! But he was too fucking prideful to file for bankruptcy, too prideful to admit he now no longer had the means to support me and mom, so—he killed himself. Hanged himself in their bedroom." You were summoning strength from Hercules himself to fight back the tears, but even Herculean strength couldn't stop the tears from coming out.

You noticed Yuno was starting to grip on your hands back, his fingers wrapping your hands. When you looked up, his eyes were wide with disbelief, anguish and anger.

"Mom, she—when we both discovered his body, she wanted both of us to run away. And—and you wanna know what she said after I refused, because I was afraid that they might kill us once they caught us? She said she was still running away without me, because she'd rather die than feel the guilt of watching me being turned into the loanshark's slave to pay off the debt we inherited, now that her husband's dead. And she did just that—ran away and abandoned me."

"No. Did they really...? Did you?" Yuno choked on his words, not able to word his questions completely, not even in his mind.

"See—her now dead husband was the only child to his parents, and his parents were long dead before he hanged himself. So the debt had no other direct heirs than me and mom. But with mom gone, that was entirely on my shoulders then, and if they knew you and dad existed, they would put you as collateral if I messed up. That's why I cut off contact with you.

To pay off my stepdad's debt, they...they made me work for them. For free. Right after school, I was to head to their illegal establishments and—and do whatever they told me to do, without pay. For a while I was homeless, slept in public bathhouses, only slept for not more than 3 hours everyday. But the loanshark gang was taken down by law enforcement just a year and a half after I began to work with them, so...so it wasn't that long—" You were cut off when Yuno wrenched his hands away from yours only to grip on your shoulders tightly.

"It wasn't that long? A year and a half, Y/N. When you were still in school. Four years ago, you were a sophomore highschool student. You were just a kid. That's a part of your youth spent paying off a dead man's debt." His voice cracked in the middle of it, and you saw the tears swell in his eyes.

"Why would you keep this from me? Afraid of me and dad being put as your collateral? We're your family and we share our burdens, not be each other's burden. You're the youngest baby of our family, you should've never faced that alone. How could you keep this from me? I should've been there for our Y/Nnie." When he began to push back the hair that was stuck on your face, that's when you fully broke down, choked sobs fully blocking anymore words from coming out coherently.

Jaehyun pulled you in, pressing your face to his chest.

7-year-old you cried at the scrapes on your knees, shock fully blocking out the pain momentarily right after you crashed your bike. You were so confident on not getting the training wheels too.

A 9-year-old Yuno—who went by Jaehyun at the time, and opted for the name Yuno in middle school—came to you, scooping you and sitting you down on the park bench. He pushed back the hair stuck on your face.

"Shhh, I'll put a band-aid on it. It won't hurt anymore then. I'm here for you, y/nnie."

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : my fingers are fucking broken now. ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes pls

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

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[goldsbitch]

That second flight

part 4 to That one Christmas flight

summary: What happens when people stop lying to themselves? Sometimes, you get a good night out of it.

warnings: cheesy af, swear words and alcohoI guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

Do not fuck it up, do not fuck it up, do not fuck this up.

Hey you? What kind of a message even is that? Ugh. She ruined it. Now she will have to move away and start her life again.

The weather forecast predicted high levels of overreacting for today.

He must have liked the cool girl vibe she somehow gave of on the plane. Y/N prayed for the gods of cool vibes to bless her again.

Lando was just about to start an interview for Sky Sports when he received her message. He imagined this was how it felt to win a podium. On the top of the world. He gave an absolutely charismatic, energetic and funny interview. One that would surely create lots of gifs on the socials. PR manager even high-fived him when they finished. To be honest, he could not wait for a moment of solitude so that he could reply.

"hey" he started. "so I broke the rule, ups" Her reply came instantly.

"I've noticed. But then again, you radiate speeding tickets vibe from miles away. So no surprise."

He smiled, well aware of how efficient the Italian ticketing was running.

"paid one last week, so you got me there" "so, how's your cool student life going?"

"Trying gain some wisdom, as people just feel free to call me dumb on social media these days."

"compliments come in a variety of forms, don't discriminate"

From now on, there was no way back.

//

The next few days consisted of constant texting. Joking around, sending pictures capturing their daily life - both of them keeping in secret that lots of the information shared was nothing new. They were careful, somewhat distancing themselves from any real deep topics. But, days felt like blur, waiting for the next text to come and somehow managing to live the real life in between that. Y/N stayed in most evenings, almost making her friends concerned.

It did not take long enough for famously patient Lando to getting sick of it. They had a week between the next three week round of races. It was now or never. He missed one chance by being mr. mysterious, so mr. direct it was now.

"so, lady. what are you doing this weekend?" he asked out of the blue.

"I dunno. Probably studying, I guess."

"well, you're smart enough, you can skip that. let's meet up."

Y/N pretended to herself that she was second guessing. She headed out, to the bar where her friends were hanging out before they planned on heading to some faculty party. She felt joining them suddenly. Sat quietly, listening to their usual chit chat. Her charade lasted about seven minutes.

"Yes. Let's." she texted and threw her phone deep down to her bag. She was nervous, heart racing and mind quite not catching up yet.

"I need to tell you guys something," she interrupted them and almost demanded immediate attention. Questioning looks followed. "Uh, so I met this guy on a plane. And I'm gonna see him again this weekend."

Saying it like that, she realized that it was all kind of real and that she probably could not explain it in words how bizzare it all felt.

"Aw, that's cute! Tell us more!" Teresa clapped excitedly, the whole weird vibe surrounding her friend making more sense now.

Y/N expected her friends to be more shocked. "Um, yeah. It's just this guy. I don't really know how it's gonna happen, but yeah."

"Is he coming here? Can we meet him?"

Y/N kept the information that they already did to herself. Just in case she is left stranded alone and disappointed.

"I don't...I don't know actually. Yeah."

"We will do as we always do - sharing location and staying by if needed, honey."

Y/N missed a text notification. "great. i'll fly you out to somewhere where we can be alone, not to sound too creepy."

//

She landed an hour after him. Lando sent a picture of him waiting at the airport cafe.

He booked the best hotel room he could find. Well, technically he booked two rooms. Just in case she wanted to keep her distance or if by any chance he fucked up so royally, that she would refuse to share space with him. At least, he could walk away from this like a gentleman.

Since she last him, she forgot just how hot this guy was in person. Seeing him, sitting casually sipping coffee and glued to him phone, she took a moment to study him. It was as if he was tailored specifically to her taste. His clothes covering his godlike body, not too muscular but enough for the sight of his arms sending her to different dimension. The origin of her audacity she had to be the first one to talk to him on the plane was unknown to her. There was no more panic left in her body, as she had done nothing but panicking the whole flight.

She walked and sat opposite to him.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey yourself," she replied. There was a moment of awkward silence. Turns out there was a bit of panic left in Y/N after all. Last week she though she'd never see this guy. And now she was staring in his eyes.

"Do you want some coffee?," he asked innocently. He looked her up and down, excited to see her. All of his worries he refused to acknowledge were gone. After all, she got up and flew here just to hang out with him. The reality of this filled him with confidence.

"Yes. A small tiny espresso with no milk."

"Great. Let's grab that and hit the road."

Lando's car might have as well run on butterflies alone present in his vehicle. There was absolutely no way for him to drive some random rental car, so he called up McLaren people to provide him one for the night. It came up in the same conversation when he requested personal time off. Both things came to a certain level of surprise, as he had never done this before. Y/N knew she had to work on a group project for one of her minor classes. Just like him, she had done something she would not have dared - and completely ghosted her group for this weekend.

"You look nice, btw," he commented casually.

"Well yeah, when you're not on an overnight flight across half of the world wearing airport attire, it makes thing easier."

"Hm, I would say sweatpants have some magic to them."

It was hard for Y/N to get the image of him out of her head.

"So, where is my lovely kidnapper taking me?"

They discussed prior to this that the vibe they would like out of this was a casual dinner and then finding the shittiest club possible and have some fun, trying to remain as private as possible yet within the vicinity of the small Italian city.

"My assistant found this lovely little place in the centre. Don't get mad, but I had him completely book it out. You know, the privacy thing," he said with more insecurity than one would expect.

Y/N picked up on that and tried to lighten up the mood. It seemed a bit excessive to do that, but he probably knew what he was doing.

"Your assistant," she gagged over dramatically. "Jesus, am I not worth enough for you to google on your own? Mr. Busy man. Was he also the one who found me online them?" she joked?

"I'm sure I'd have to hire a special person to that if I planned on outsourcing it."

"Creep."

"You love it."

And she did.

He parked in front of the restaurant, without a care for the world.

"So you're telling me we're making a big deal about keeping a secret that you're here, yet you decide to park like a proper asshole?" she remarked while he opened the door for her. Jokes were making her focus on something else than the fact she was falling for him too hard.

"Oh, you're going absolutely hate my plan," he laughed as they were entering the full on empty restaurant.

"Wow, look at that. I invited all my friends!" he whispered to her ear before addressing the owner.

"Hello, you must be Dario?"

This Dario person smiled brightly at him. "Ah, mister Papaya!" Lando nodded and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dario then started speaking Italian without a care of the world. Language wise deaf Lando did not count for the fact people just did not speak English in this part of Italy. A tiny crack in his plan. What was he suppose to do, call Carlos? But, Y/N having spend a good year or two studying there was there to ease the situation. She whipped out her B1 Italian and greeted the man. Dario's happiness filled up the room.

He seated them and immediately brought local red wine and giving a long talk about where this wine was from and how his grandma used to pick up the grapes herself and how the notes did this and that. Y/N tried to translate at the beginning, but Dario looked like was ready to give a TED talk. She started to loose the grasp of the story, which Lando observed. And like good gentleman he helped her out. No, of course not, when he saw her getting lost, he put on a super interested face and asked about seven follow up questions. Y/N was super annoyed. The kind of annoyed that creates a smile on your face.

When this showdown finally ended, Y/N nearly gulped the wine down. "So rude, Dario just said, you're suppose to sit it and let it roll," said Lando and with too much affect sipped his wine. "Aah," he took a deep breath and the bit his tongue. Y/N stuck her tongue out completely like a five year old child. "Yes, I can see your red tongue, that's also one of the reasons why you sip it."

They sat, talked and laughed. He seemed genuinely interested when she blabbed a little bit too long about her latest projects. And then he asked her for a feedback on his latest merch, which by sheer coincidence included lots of photos of him. It was hard to admit how much he enjoyed the idea of her looking at him.

"So, um. I'm not sure I understood Dario correctly. But it looks like he insists on getting us the local speciality," she said hesistantly.

"Well, only if his grandma would approve. But why is this strange look on your face?"

"I must have gotten it wrong. Because burnt pasta just sounds wrong. If I wanted that, I could have stayed and have my roommate cook for us."

"Hm, that is an interesting idea." Lando pretended he did not know her roommate's name.

Once Dario brought out the burnt pasta, the couple had a hard time not to laugh.

"When in Rome...well not in Rome, but you get the idea."

"Why is this good?" Y/N proclaimed with her mouth full to the limit.

Lando laughed. "Ah, we have a lady at the table, I see. I mean yeah, I am not supposed to be having pasta now, but this is so weirdly good."

They finished their strange pasta and the bottle of wine. Said goodbye to Dario, Y/N tried not to think on how much it cost to close a restaurant down.

"Wait, what are we going to do about the car? We can't drive now."

"Not to sound like a complete asshole, but I'd like we remove the WE from any sentence including driving now at the beginning, if that is ok. And like I said at the beginning, you're gonna hate this."

"Go on, Lando boy. Tell me."

"Yeah, the car was provided by my employer. And they really need me, so I'm just going to leave the car here to get towed and inform them later."

"Jesus, why!"

"Well, I figured we'll get a taxi in the morning. I want to enjoy all the time I have with you. Dealing with the car is not on the menu today."

There was nothing for Y/N to reply. She was having too much fun to be thinking.

They found what seemed to be the shittiest bar playing 80's and 90's songs, weirdly colored lights swinging out of the rhythm and with people there consisting of old papas and few probably underaged kids. They brought their own wine bottle from Dario, Lando paid 100 euros for two glasses and for the bartender leaving them alone. It did not take long for Y/N to break out to the dance floor. Lando watched her clumsy yet somehow elegant moves for a moment, before he joined her. They danced, as if they were the only people there, laughing and completely ignoring the looks they were getting. And to the tones of remix of Brother Louis, they kissed again. And this time, they kept kissing until late hours, hand roaming around each other, as if they were two teenagers making out for the first time.

part 5

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Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1  @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother

[silaslich]

Choices have consequences

Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!captain!reader

Wc - 2.8k

Summary - you’re tasked with taking your team to Germany to assist tf141, all goes well until Ghost takes a bullet.

No CWs

AN - this was wholly written for my own entertainment just so I could interject my ocs somewhere with no context but hey why not post it for the fun of it :)

Stories did little to compare to the haunting image of the man in the mask.

The Ghost.

A strong soldier with a good head on his shoulders. Perfectly curated for his field; no strings attached, no loose ends. No one waiting for him, no one that would seek him out if he were to disappear. Not one single person who would be notified of his death when that dark day came.

Ghost had cut himself away from any semblance of a normal life he had left. He took the choice out of Simon’s hands and forced it regardless, hiding his truth and burying it away. Files upon redacted files lay piled up. His name. His face. His home. His family. All buried deep down in the archives, tucked away in a dark corner where no one would see them. Where no one would know to look.

He was an anomaly. A complete stranger to these men. He couldn’t relate to them, couldn’t join in with idle conversations between deployment or while on transports. Talking about future plans; wives, kids, holidays spent around a stained oak table with chairs pulled up to each corner - filled to the brim with family and friends and pets.

He would just keep his eyes low. Listening carefully but mind somewhere else completely - disassociated. Displaced from his surroundings.

You met him years ago in Germany. Barely two words spoken between you before you were split, sent your opposite ways to divide and conquer.

Task force 141 wasn’t foreign to you, John Price had been an acquaintance of yours for some time now, conversations had in passing like ships across seas, opposing squadrons touching down onto the tarmac of the same holding barracks or tight-knit rendezvous at the higher up facilities. It came with the territory of being a Captain, Price had is men and you had yours. He’d remarked that you were young considering your rank.

“I’m older then I look, Captain” you’d said. You weren’t about to tell him how old you really were, that you were perhaps closer to his age then he thought, you’d let that conversation happen another time.

Germany had been a chance encounter. A tipping point in an otherwise routine mission; a drug ring shipping through exports across Europe, a rat had let slip of armour deals happening too, heavy duty artillery that was more then just black market trade. Warfare grade shit. By some chance, yourself and your force had been available to assist, already running through that particular area of Europe for another lead you had been following. It had come up short. After just a short phone call you were dropped by helicopter onto the outskirts of Görlitz, a rural town that would provide a great meeting point that would be more than inconspicuous. An old hay barn had been the check point. It’s decaying wood panels all chipped and splintered and rotten from the damp. The roof was half con-caved and the landscape was dull and horse sick. Grazed down right to the clay.

You and your team kept a low profile, walking along the tree lines with weapons drawn, rifles held to your chests as you scanned your surroundings. Old habits died hard. It would take some drilling out of you for you to change your ways, always on the look out, always watching and waiting for the jump.

The select few men you had brought with you were some of your finest; the big Austrian lieutenant König, Toni (Norvin) Espin the scouser sergeant, Craig (Jank) Conners the Londoner and Felix (Trap) Valenski the basket-case Canadian.

It was a team you’d hand picked yourself, comparable to TF141 in the sense that each of you came from somewhere else, some other unit or faculty, bought together by pure chance or pure luck. Freedom fighters for the greater good. Dirty job. Clean world. Clean slate for the rest of humanity to crack on with. Your hands filthy and stained, not washing off in the sink, stained deep down to the bone, bleached into your skin.

Your fist rapped against the wooden door, barely holding on at the hinges. You kept your eyes to the door, only glancing over to your men to gesture to your own eyes with two fingers, then pointing them out into the landscape, signalling for them to keep a look out. Price met you at the door, peeking through a splintering crack.

He ushered you all in with a “good to see you made it lads”.

There was a small woodworking table propped in the middle of the barn with a small flash light placed atop. A make shift desk. Littered with maps and coordinate sheets, messy scribbles dashed across and certain areas circled. It looked like they’d been here for hours. Stewing away. Plotting.

The five of you filed in, spreading out across the back portion of the barn, staying aback, not treading on the toes of the 141. You were here to assist, not to overtake. You took a step toward Price.

“So tell me Captain” you began, shifting your rifle to lay across your chest as it sat propped by its strap, “what do you need of us?”

Your eyes scanned the room, finally taking in the the rest of his force. That’s when you saw him, the Ghost, a burly masked lad with a hulking stature and dangerous air, he didn’t unsettle you in the slightest but you could see why someone on the receiving end of his barrel might think otherwise. He was set off away in the darkness, arms folded and one foot propped across his other leg as he leaned against a wooden bannister frame. To his left was a shorter man, dark hair shaved into a tasteless mohawk, a prominent scar across his chin and a slanting smile painted across his face, he had a kind eye about him, you learnt his name was Soap. Hovering close to Price was the last to be introduced, his name was Gaz, a handsome young chap with slight facial hair and shades pushed up to sit atop his head.

“He’s a big lad ain’t he” Soap chuckled, nodding his head toward your lieutenant. König said nothing in retort. You raised a brow and looked across at the Austrian, his mask covering any emotion he could possibly be showing, you turned back towards the Scotsman.

“Glad to see your eyes work well sergeant” you smiled, nodding your head, he only laughed in return. Gaz laughed too. Price cleared his throat.

“I’ll get straight to it Cap” he said, beckoning you with a finger to step even closer to his makeshift table, you rounded the wooden desk, eyes scanning quickly over the scribbled plans and route markers, committing them to memory.

“I’d like you to form our defence, cover our arses as we infiltrate” you went over the logistics quickly in your head. You kissed your teeth in thought.

“Swap a soldier for König” you said, eyeing up Prices’ boys to see who’d best fit. Price looked at you and raised a brow.

“König would be better utilised as a battering ram of sorts, better close up on the offence rather then at long distance. He can get you in and better still he can cover you from there on out” you traced your gloved finger down over the map, following the route in which Price planned to take.

He grunted in the back of his throat, acknowledging the information you’d gifted.

“Right. I’ll swap your big fella for Ghost, he can stick with you lot at long range and cover our backs incase it goes south” he sounded pleased with his plan and you nodded in response, you glanced over at Ghost, seeing he hadn’t moved even an inch since you and your team had arrived. It’s like he really was just that -

a Ghost.

You jumped the drug ring that night. Just as planned; Price took König as his defence, followed by Soap and Gaz. They powered their way through the rings holding facility that was hunkered up on a canal channel, up stream and out of sight. They worked quick and they got the job done, with the assistance of yourself and your boys securing the perimeter and having Ghost as your extra.

Ghost hadn’t said more than a few words; despite the odd movement suggestion or offer of instruction to your men, he kept his mouth shut. You’d worked with hundreds of soldiers in your time, helped train some of the best of them, you’d seen personality types like his before - more brain and brawn then most, with that added third element of reservation. He thought of each word carefully, only gave away what he needed to, and in return you didn’t pry.

By the time Price was heading back with the rest of his crew, yourself and the others started to shift too, readying yourselves to meet them half way. They aren’t too far, just down a ravine heading towards the channels that would have carried the drug rings cargo. Norvin pipes up.

“Where after this Cap? Somewhere sunny?” He smirks when he speaks and you brush him off with a roll of your eyes.

Wishful thinkin’ Norv” you retort, falling into step beside Ghost who happens to be the closest. Trap is the next to start.

Put in for somewhere properly cold, this soggy shit doesn’t count” the lanky Canadian gestures around with both hands dramatically, the motion forces you to follow his eyes.

It certainly is just a soggy and bogged up blanket of rain and sleet out here this time of year, the smell of the earthy soil and kicked up leaves fresh in your nostrils.

As you all trudged further down the brow of the steep hill you saw the rest of the boys come into view, more specifically, you saw König first. That big bastard was hard to miss, a racing thought sprung to mind, it wouldn’t be hard for the enemy to hit him.

It was slippery and muddy. Caked to your boots and splashing up to your calves, it took some time to progress and cover the land, mainly because Jank took a nasty spill and instead of helping everybody just laughed - even Ghost cracked. You supposed it was funny, there’s nothing that can bring a group of soldiers closer then laughing at the expense of one of their own men. Jank didn’t find it particularly funny, smothered in mud right up to his eyeballs, you eventually caught yourself and offered him a hand up. Much to your surprise, he didn’t pull you down into the dirt with him, given his track record - you wouldn’t have put it passed him.

As yourself and your team head down the hill, you see as Price and his boys are coming up, honourable members of each being Ghost and König of course. The captain gets closer and closer, raises his hand to wave you down when you hear and feel the air whip around you.

It’s like lightening striking. One second you’re standing up right walking beside Ghost, and the next you’re crushed beneath the entirety of his weight.

It’s hard to tell if the razor sharp pain in your chest is from the impact or from Ghost crushing your ribcage, your voice dies in your chest when you cry out in pain, but it falls to complete silence when you manage to pin your eyes between your chest and Ghosts.

Because there’s nothing but blood.

-

It’s a hard place to be. On the wrong side of the door, from the outside looking in.

Guilt is a weight you carry well. It’s something you’ve had to come to terms with, make a friend out of, because she’s a headstrong mistress - one that doesn’t allow her victims much room to breath.

You’ve watched countless men and women die, both by your hand and the enemies. It’s a way of life unfortunately, another thing you had to prepare for when ranking up. Those deaths are on your shoulders, carried on your back till the day you kick the bucket yourself. It’s your job to oversee your team, to carry them with you, deliver them back home to their friends and families at the end of it all - hopefully not all of them in caskets.

Watching on now; this man, near enough a stranger to you- listening to his chest rattle and watching as his ribcage rises and falls in shallow succession. It’s a new found sensation that cuts deeper than anything has before. The ache of the healing wound in your chest strives to remind you that you should be the one in his place.

Someway - somehow, Ghost had seen the glint of a sniper in the distance, so far away it could have been anything, a stray of light catching the stream or a trick of the eye. Yet, he shielded you, screamed for everyone else to drop to the ground, he had bellowed so loud you hadn’t even heard it over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears.

Not only had he saved you, but the rest of the team as well, Ghost had walked away as the only critical injury. Even your wound was surface deep, his body had slowed down the bullet almost indefinitely, all you had now was a gnarled scabbed up entry wound.

And Ghost still hadn’t woken up yet.

The days stretch into what feels like eternity. You don’t eat and can barely sleep, you can’t even rip yourself away from the ward.

You carry your guilt well, so you can’t justify what makes you stay, what keeps you rooted to the sticky-clean vinyl floor.

Price stays too. Eaten up by his protective instinct, much like you are with your own team, they’re more than just that - a fucked up sense of family hiding between the bloodshed and the bullets. It’s why he had allowed you to stay, given you permission on Ghost’s behalf to see his face, to watch the way his features slope gently in sleep.

On the ninth day, Ghost wakes up.

It’s an awful ordeal. You’re getting yourself and Price a coffee when you hear it - when you hear him.

Something smashes and the machines keeping him breathing must clatter to the floor, Price pulls the assistance alarm just as you make it to the door.

For the briefest of seconds, Ghost stills when he sees you, eyes wild and frantic - but they’re glazed over, he’s clearly having an episode of some sorts. You make it to the bedside just as he’s pulling the wires off his chest, grabbing hands aiming for the oxygen mask next, Price’s voice is there attempting to soothe him the entire time.

“Calm down, Simon” he breathes, lowering his face close to Simon as he braces his palms gently on his chest, ushering him to relax, “it’s okay Si” Price looks from his lieutenant and then up at you.

His eyes contradict his tone. For the first time since you’ve known him, Price looks worried, if you didn’t know any better maybe he even looked scared. Fearful for his friend. You’ve deduced plenty in the last week or so, the captain hadn’t overshared on Ghost’s behalf, but he’d let enough go unsaid that you put two and two together - Ghost hadn’t always been a Ghost.

He was once a man; with a life and a family, despite being broken down and beaten by his father he rose above it, he sought out a life that would give him the control back. But even that was short lived, betrayed and brought to his knees and buried alive - left to rot away in that casket six feet under.

Ghost wasn’t created to replace Simon, he was created to protect him. Not just his identity and his past, but to protect that little boy that never got a chance to be just that. Simon had to grow up too fast; everything innocent and sweet ripped away too young, instead he was carved out by harsh words and glass bottles - moulded to be a shell of his former self.

The nurses are quick when they arrive; they sedate him through his IV and replace everything he’d managed to rip out, he’s in and out of it. Drifting as Price said.

You sit there for the rest of the afternoon. Silent by his side as he rests. Again- you don’t know what keeps you there. Maybe it’s an obligatory sense of responsibility for this man’s life now, he’d saved yours, now you owed him the same. It makes the wound in your chest ache, the dull throb of it palpable under your palm when you rest it there.

Then you realise as your eyes scan him, hovering over the bandages that wrap around his entire torso -

You’ll both have matching scars now.

[regretismyconstantcompanion]

Albus was hunched over his desk, glasses on as he worked on his Deluminator. He had almost perfected it, although there were still a few more glitches to be worked out. He was quite proud of this invention and confident that he would one day get it fully operational. Gellert was told him so many months earlier, apparently he'd had a vision of it working in the future! He'd seen a young red headed boy using it and beside him was a darker hair boy with glasses and lightening bolt scar of all things! Gellerts visions always did fascinate him and this latest one was certainly remarkable. Who were these boys and what exactly where they doing with his invention? Perhaps in the future he would go on to sell it, although that had certainly never been his intention. He had briefly wondered if perhaps the two boys were his sons, although he knew that was highly unlikely. "Dumbledore." Albus looked up sharply at the voice, looking around the room that was empty. He frowned slightly. "Hello?" He called out. It was the summer holidays at Hogwarts and very few students or faculty had remained behind. He hadn't been expecting visitors and besides, that voice was unfamiliar. "Dumbledore!" Albus stood this time, looking around the room with the Deluminator in hand. Just then it suddenly lit up itself and he paused as the voice called to him again. Wait, was someone trying to call him... through the Deluminator? He gasped softly, thinking of Gellerts vision. The boys! The red head and lightening scar! What if they were in trouble? What if they were experimenting in the future? He felt almost a tug toward it, and then there was a bright light and then... he was falling. It was similar to apparating but not quite. It felt longer, more our of his control as he turned an swirled and his stomach churned. There was another bright flash of light and then suddenly he was dropped sharply onto the ground and only just managed to catch himself before he fell. He groaned slightly, his stomach protesting and he feared he may be sick as his head swam. @dumbledoresthroughndthrough

[aforestescape]

i’m not a fan of writing about the 141 as actual soldiers but i am in the mood for some good ole fashioned despair so

simon/141 x reader, assumed to be a mole + the aftermath

content includes: gn!reader, no pronouns used, very brief descriptions of torture, panic attacks, memory loss from trauma

waking up in the hospital felt like the closest thing to heaven you could find. the silent noise of electricity and beeping of monitors next to your bed. the dimmed lights revealing a slate white ceiling as your blurry eyes adjusted to the feeling of being awake. your body felt numb, the drugs running through your system to keep you from feeling all the marks of torture you had endured.

you let out a shaky breath, blinking as you gained your faculties. your mind drawing a blank on what you were doing here until you heard a rustle of noise in the room. you tried to sit up, wincing and hand coming to lay against the bandaged injury on your side. eyes darting over to where your mind was whispering for you to look. trying to remind and warn you of horrors you couldn’t piece together until you came in contact with a skull-faced balaclava.

the peace draining from your body as you grew tense. loud beeping noises of the monitors feeling light years away as your mind focused on the fear coursing through your veins. the horror of wanting to die as the people you grew to see as family cut you down. piece by piece.

your mind reeling and loud in your ears to remind you of everything you’d been through in the past week? two or three? how long were you kept in that room? tied up to a chair and left to wait for your torture to resume. the sick twisted light you swore you saw in eyes you loved as you screamed in pain. sobbing and begging for it to stop.

mind trying to come up with a reason for the betrayal you were facing as your team took turns to get information from you.

no one could blame you when you fell off the face of the earth. not knowing if you were still alive, if you could call anything after what happened living.

or

you didn’t understand why your fingers were trembling. you tried to take a deep breath, get them to stop but it only made them shake more. your breaths uneven and labored with every passing second. the sound of the machine hooked up to your heart rate beeping incessantly in the dull, out of reach corner of your mind. along with reality that seemed to warp and bend to the shuffle of fabric in the corner of your room.

you looked up, eyes easily finding brown ones you were long used to. a familiar pair that once gave you solace through the storm now had your chest squeezing tight. eyes widened to saucers as you felt your breaths pant out faster and faster. your gaze still stuck on brown that used to be so much warmer to you, now cold and hollowed. pain ringing through them as they watched you.

you could distantly hear the sounds of voices and the beeping getting louder yet somehow faded. dulled by the rushing distortions howling in your ears. your trembling hands clutching onto the thin white cotton blanket as you try to ground yourself.

it was just a panic attack, you’ll be fine you tell yourself. mind scrambling to catch up. trying to seek out an answer to what was making your body shake and fear lick up your spine. it was those eyes, that’s what you knew. but a strange thought to have when they were connected to someone you adored. someone you looked up to and admired as a superior to your station.

so why were you so afraid? you could feel yourself hyperventilating, felt like you might pass out from a lack of oxygen before a figure cut through your eyes path. colorful scrubs of different nurses and a massive shadow moving behind them out the door.

you could hear a little easier, breathe a little better as the world stopped spinning around you in the stationary space of your hospital bed. you blinked through a daze, finally noticing how wet your face was. salty tears ready to dry and leave an itchy reminder behind.

a reminder, that’s what you needed. what was it that you were forgetting? were you even missing something? you weren’t sure how long you’d been in the hospital. couldn’t remember how you’d ended up here in the first place. your last few memories were pools of honey brown. swimming inside them, getting lost in the labyrinth as it leads you closer and closer to a beast you couldn't ignore. couldn't subdue the large, inhumane creature that blocked trespassers.

why are you swimming? how did you ever get so lost that you trusted a spirit, a ghost in sheep's clothing? you winded in pain trying to recall what it was. eyes closing on a breath, a flicker of three more sets of eyes staring back into your mind.

i wrote this on my birthday (all the way back in august mind you) but my beta reader forced me to told me i should write more🙄so that's what the second bits for

as someone who’s experienced lost memory from trauma i tried to reflect that a bit in this

---

i haven't been into writing anything but poetry lately. as a "damn my bad" for not posting for two months ill be posting something lighter right after this.

[thehistoriangirl]

Hey bestieee can I get uhhhhh.......what u think vik would like to get as a present for the holidays and what he would give reader in return

Hi bestie! Of course ^^ here is it, hope you like it <3

Loving Gifts

Viktor x Fem!(Artist!)Reader----1.2K----SFW

Tags: Established Relationship | Domestic Fluff | Slightly Suggestive at the end |

A dry, cold winter air flowed across the wide boulevards in the Commercial District, with Viktor adjusting the cozy red blanket around his neck to cover up his mouth and nose. With the sky rapidly tinted orange, he saw the Christmas lightning starting to turn on in each of the buildings around him.

He leaned against a wall, consulting the list tucked inside his pocket. 

-Dress (?)

-Custom jewelry  -> next anniversary. 

-Set of pastels (?)

Viktor had been cracking his brain to think about a gift for you ever since the coming of autumn. Last year, he had crafted you a lamp in the shape of a cherry tree, the one that was next to your drawing table, sending pink and golden hues around your atelier like in a perpetual dusk. 

This year, however, he had no idea what to give you, which made him feel quite anxious every time he entered a store, watching around the shelves to see if something caught his attention, like a call, only to end up with empty hands and another blow of gelid wind as he walked toward other business. 

What if he gave you something you didn’t like? He could imagine your eyes dropping slightly and the tense smile expanding your lips. For all the time you’d been together, Viktor had acquired the ability to read you like his favorite book.

He already had a little custom music box half-finished in his lab, kept inside the only drawer that held a key so you wouldn’t find it those times you liked to help him clean his workstation, waiting for Viktor to finish his job for the day. He snuck inside the Music Faculty to ask for a recording of the song that got you both together at the Academy Anniversary Foundation Gala two years ago when he gathered his courage to ask you for a dance.

Viktor smiled at the memory, the characteristic smell of oil and wood familiar as he entered the arts and crafts store you frequent, many of those visits with his arm interlocked in yours. 

The saleswoman smiled at him. “Hello, Sir, what can I help you with?” she said. “Is the Ma'am sick?”

“Ah—” he hung his lips ajar at the name ‘Ma’am’, because you two weren’t married, though you never corrected her, so, why would he? “No. I came here for her… eh, her Christmas gift.”

“Oh, of course!” She responded with a wide beam; her brown eyes squinted. “Do you have something in mind?”

Viktor looked around the clean and organized store, with wooden pencils and brushes, lines of canvas shown behind the counter, and a thousand rainbows shown in sets of crayons, pencils, pastels, and oil paintings.

“Yes. One of your set of pastels, please.” Viktor tapped his fingers along the handle of his cane, looking at the people walking hand by hand passing by him. He sighed, consulting his pocket watch. It was strange the way he’d grown to miss you, just comparable to how he yearned to keep inventing, to keep creating.

“Can you wrap it with newspaper?” he added. “She’s rather… curious, you see.” If you saw a box wrapped in gift paper, there was no doubt you’d start to peek. He thought you were just as mischievous as a cat. And just as adorable. 

“Of course, Sir.” For some minutes, the empty store filled with the sound of paper folding and tape being cut. “Here you have it. Careful, there. It’s heavier than it looks.”

“Thank you.” Viktor put the gift under his free arm, walking out of the store once he had paid.

The air hit even colder now that he had imagined how warm your embrace would be once he arrived home.

“But first,” he mumbled to himself, accommodating his beret and scarf before restarting his walk up the hill. “Let’s hide this in the lab.”

*~*~*~*

You put the photograph aside after watching it for the thousandth time, gently sliding it inside a book as you continue to paint the last details of Eve’s dress, the patches of clothes sewn into the fabric twin to the ones in little Viktor’s pants.

He looked so happy, standing between his parents with pride—you hoped you could mimic the childish delight on his face with your painting. Even if you weren’t good at restoring photos, why shouldn’t you replicate the image in your personal style?

Viktor had shown you the photo after some months of dating, getting it out of his notebook with its edges winkled and the paper thin for being held so much; the brown surface dotted with multiple stains. And yet, love kept emanating from it.

Now, Viktor would have the memory on a bigger canvas he could hang whenever he wished. You hoped he liked the gift, though it’ll be quite obvious wrapped under the tree once the painting was ready—you wished to give him only the best, just as he did with you. 

The brush slid against the canvas, wrist swaying to paint the thin decorative lines of the wallpaper inside his childhood home, the edge of a cold hearth behind the family tree, with Viktor sitting on a chair in the middle of his parents, the familiar toy boat in his lap. 

A smile grazed your face, looking at the round face of the small boy, amber eyes shining even in the now dim photograph. You were blessed with that gaze, too, every time he talked about his new projects and ideas, with the lamp on the nightstand giving his eyes a shine that could rival the stars.

Even when Viktor looked at you, a smile so big you could his adorable tooth gap.

You heard the entrance door creak open, settling your brush down in a vase with water.

“Moje láska, I’m home,” Viktor said, his voice muffled through the closed door of your studio. “Where are you, hmm?”

“I’m going!” You almost interrupted him, carrying the canvas toward the far end of the room, facing the closed window. 

Viktor was expecting you in the hallway, an eyebrow raised upon seeing your hands, and fingers stained with paint.

“Working still, my muse?” he muttered playfully, his hands intertwined with yours as he pulled you against him to give you a kiss on the forehead, then another on the cheek, to finally grace your lips with his own. 

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to give him another, longer, kiss. 

“Yes, handsome,” you teased, poking his cheek that was starting to dust with a pink shade. 

“Should I let you work, then?” He hummed, his hands on your hips. “Wouldn’t like to delay your duties and get you in trouble.”

“Not at all. I only have to let the paint dry to start with the new layer tomorrow.” Tugging his hand, you pried away from the studio, so Viktor couldn’t ask to see the painting and spoil the surprise. “Come on, let’s have dinner together.”

Viktor chuckled, his thumb smudging a droplet of paint across the reverse of your palm. “Maybe I should bathe you first,” he said, eyes twinkling. “You’re always a masterpiece but today… eh, you have more paint on you.”

You laughed, one of your hands over Viktor’s. “Naughty.” Leaning closer to him, you pretended to smell him, scrunching your nose in a dramatic gesture. “You’re also very stinky.”

“That didn’t stop you from kissing me, did it?” His thumb circled your hip, fingers gently kneading the skin. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“Never,” you giggled.

“Come on, my stinky dove,” Viktor teased, nuzzling his face against your hair. “Let’s draw a bath in the bathtub. I'm quite cold, so perhaps you could warm me up, yes?”

[starscabaret]

How would Cynthia react to a love sick puppy dog reader that admired her so much as a first year?

Lovesick Student Introduction

pairing: yandere! Graduate Student Fem Cynthia 📚 x Fem Reader

summary: you are in her class

warnings : mentions of a minor, no actual minors, this is wlw, sapphic, gay, all that!

Authors note : yall are so smart with your request I love that !! check out my oc profiles to learn more about cynthia pookies !

Cynthia enjoyed graduate school. She was very excited to be furthering her education. She also worked in a field she loved and was very passionate about. The professors she worked under were very kind and had her best interest in mind. It was obvious she would go far after obtaining her master’s degree. 

There were some parts of grad school she enjoyed much less than others. At her university, all of the graduate students were required to be Graduate Teaching assistants. Her job was to help a professor with their class and build a bridge between students and faculty. She graded papers, held office hours, and occasionally led the lecture. 

Cynthia knew that just a few months ago she was an undergraduate but she still couldn’t help but find some of the undergraduates she assisted complete nuisance. Sending her emails in the early hours of the morning, asking simple questions that were obviously on the syllabus, crying about their grades during office hours, the list went on. 

But she would grin and bear it, at the end of the day she had to. But then there was you. An undergraduate freshman. You looked so naive and full of life. So excited about college. Something that had been sucked away from Cynthia after 4 grueling years of undergrad. She wouldn’t exactly consider you a nuisance like the other students. But you were a nuisance in other ways.

You stirred something in her she hadn’t felt since junior high school. She didn’t know what it was but she didn’t exactly like it… or hate it. The only way she could describe it was like the first time she saw Megan Fox in the movie Jennifer’s Body. She came out as a lesbian the next day. 

But you were forbidden… you were technically her student for Christ’s sake. And not only that but you were a freshman … how old were you? 18? what if you were 17? ugh gross, she couldn’t even think of that. No matter what a relationship between you two would be completely inappropriate, no matter your age, and no matter how strong her desires were. 

But you didn’t make it easy. You came to all of her office hours and stayed the whole time no matter what you were doing in class that week. You would sit at her desk making sure to lean over it so she could see right into your cleavage and ask her, “Is this good Miss. Cynthia?”. Of course, it was good, you had a perfect score in the class, she doesn’t know why you continue to come to office hours. And she told you to stop calling her that. It was just Cynthia not “Miss.Cynthia”, that stirred something in her she wasn’t sure she could control.  

This wasn’t your only attempt at tempting her. You signed every email to her off with “Can’t wait to see you next class, Love Y/N”. As the semester went on it became increasingly obvious you were a love-sick puppy for her. You only came to class for her approval and to see her, hoping she’d see you in that way. You only did well in the class because you wanted her to see you as smart and mature. 

You had no clue that Cynthia more than saw you in that way. She was strong and stoic. She would ward off your every advance with kind professional language. But inside she wanted nothing more than you make you hers. 

[writing-whump]

Been here for a while, enjoying your fics. ❤️

Could you consider to write something including post - concussion emeto? Maybe with Matthew, because who else would be hit 😅

Greetings,

A.

Hello A.! I'm so happy you are enjoying yourself, that's super sweet! ❤️ Thank you so much for the request! Ran away from me a little but includes what you wanted :D I'm very honoured.

This one's crying, the other's sick

Seline is upset and crying. Matthew comforts her, when it turns out he came home with a concussion.

There will be no direct trains because of construction work. You can take the bus and the train connection, but we can't guarantee your way if either is delayed.

Just great. Exactly what she needed for the travel home to see her parents.

Seline knew she was freaking out for no reason. This fact didn't make it any easier to not do it.

Her life has always been divided into two places. Bratislava and Vienna. Home and school, parents and friends, Slovak and German.

She knew and her parents knew that her life was heading into the direction of Vienna - more money, more prestige, the use of languages. Slovakia was a nice home, but everyone who had any sense, ambition and knew just a bit of English moved out for college and never returned.

But Seline doubted as many people had such a good relationship with their parents. That's why she wasn't moving out even after 10 years of travelling. She even felt sorry for all her classmates and colleagues, many of which had to move to Vienna at 18 for university. Without parents and roots and childhood friends. Independence and adult responsibilities. Or were they proud of it? Was it a good thing they couldn't be children for that long?

When she asked her friends from countries farther away, like Bulgaria or Italy, they said it was fine. That they couldn't imagine living with their parents again or still. That it was nice to live alone.

Maybe they just didn't like being around them as much as Seline. Having such close relationship with your own mother was from what Seline could see, quite the exception. Her mother was her most trusted friend, her confidante, her idol and advisor. Seline's friends didn't call their mothers for two hours a day and they didn't visit every weekend and they didn't...

Seline wouldn't have moved out if it wasn't for the fights with her younger brother. And because she got good work at the university as an assistant, but that was running out. Every year was a risk of not getting the contract prolonged. She considered studying another master degree, cause as long as she was a student, they were more likely to keep her. Graduated non-students were more expensive because of taxes. PhD students were the most risky, cause they go no funding without an actual job at a project or faculty. And those were all temporary, only for a limited amount of years. Not to mention the law in Austria that you couldn't work at the same university more than 8 years on temporary contracts, which was supposed to protect university staff. Except the universities, instead of employing people without temporary contracts, didn't employ them at all, until they came with a few years of foreign experince. Go for a two years to England. Or France. Or anywhere else. Uproot yourself and maybe we will get you back.

Very family friendly.

So it somehow happened that Thursday morning she found out that her train for Friday to visit her parents would take 1.30h instead of 50 minutes and because the bus could be late and the train that you should change after wouldn't wait in the case it was, meant she would be straned somewhere in Parndorf.

So she would have to take the train before, that was direct and safe, which meant she would travel for an hour earlier, miss the connection she would have if the train were normal, wait two hours at the main station in Bratislava to get to her parents house. Her house. Whatever it was.

This would normally not anger her to the point of tears, but it was about a week before her period, so PMS was hitting her hard.

She didn't want to go to the train sooner. Or wait at the station because she missed the direct beautiful train that would get her to the home town near Bratislava.

She could take a taxi and pay more. Or take her own car. But Seline hated driving. It was stressful and fearsome and horrible responsibility and each bigger car or faster driving car made her jump in her seat in deadly fear. Her father would scoff at her for being so panicked about it. That she should drive more to get rid of it.

Well. Because of the fear, her main goal was not to drive.

Either with time with the train, with money with the taxi or with effort and nerves with the car. Nothing was for free.

She left her car at her parents anyway. Didn't need it in Vienna with all their great public transport connections. It was a relief she didn't gave to consider going with a car and no one could guilt her into using it.

She had two roomates who liked driving and cars. But she couldn't exactly ask them for a 1 hour long drive on the highway to Bratislava to see her parents.

Isaiah didn't complain about her visiting her parents during weekends. Since their schedules at university weren't packed, they had most Mondays free and other days during the week with only one seminar or online class here and there and could be together.

Seline loved not having to commute. To stay in bed until 11, talk with Isaiah over lunch, take a walk in the park or by the river and go to a seminar at 5 in the evening, meet with friends after or a bit before. Leisure nice days. Working 8-5 terrified her. She loved the flexibility, the way she could rule her time, do homework or write essays whenever she felt like, write stories and her poems whenever she was inspired, listen to music till 2 in the morning or binngewatch series all evening.

Though evening were usually reserved for movie nights with the whole trio. She loved those too.

Standing between two worlds was always a trait of hers. Something she was at peace at. But deciding between one home or the other, one city or the other and the time between pained her still, or even more so, after 10 years of back and forth.

If she could just buy that two generational house somewhere close to Vienna, on the fringes of the city and have them all there. Travel would take 20 minutes with the subway, her parents and her pack would be at the same place and they could have a view on the fields and not on the people and noise filled buildings of the city...

Except her parents still worked in Bratislava, and her grandmother and her uncle lived there and their families lived there and...and her parents didn't even speak German.

She could go back and live in Slovakia. She would get a high paid job just for speaking German and English so well. Lots of her friends from primary school did that. Those that didn't leave for France, US, Belgium or as far as Australia, that is.

She never saw her future in Bratislava. Not with the communist looking buildings and shabby streets and corrupt government and horrible health care. But she grew up around fields, open sky and on the train. City life was culturally shocking.

Seline walked back and forth on her floor, stamping her feet in anger. She let the frustrated tears loose, no one was home. Updating her train app if the connections didn't change after all didn't bring any new results for the 5th time.

She ended up in the hall, by the stairs, leaning against the wall. Today was a good day to wallow in self-pity as any. Hugging her knees, she cried quietly, half-realizing she was just being dramatic and the situation wasn't half as bad as her riled up emotions would have her believe.

"Whoa, hey. Are you crying for real?"

Seline almost jumped out of her skin at Matthew's tone, shooting up to her feet. "W-what are you doing here?!"

Matthew stood on the last step of the steps next to her. His knuckles were still wrapped in white bandages, so must have been boxing and returned sooner. He was gripping the railing tight and looked pale and tired, but the sarcastic tone and raised eyebrow chased her worries away. "I live here. Duh."

"T-that's my floor." She hurriedly rubbed at her face to get rid of the moisture. "I didn't hear you arrive."

"You were...preoccupied," Matthew said dryly. "So what's up? Did something happen? Should I go beat someone up?"

Seline chuckled despite the tears and her emberassment for him to catch her like this. "No. That's really sweet, but not at all necessary."

Matthew gave her a dubious look, then crouched down on the ground next to her, sliding down the wall slowly. "Something must have happened."

"Nothing happened. I'm just being silly." She waved his concern away, trying to smile.

"Uhm. Do you want me to call Isaiah?"

"No!"

Matthew blinked at her vehemence.

Seline ran her hands through her hair and sat down back next to him, back against the wall. "Nothing happened. It would just worry him."

"If he could comfort you, I'm sure he would be happy to worry. Maybe I just can't say what you need to hear."

"It's fine. Seriously. I'm overreacting because of hormones. Nothing is wrong." She flushed a little, realzing she said hormones, but when Matthew didn't laugh or say she was a hysterical girl, her shoulders slumped in relief and she relaxed a little.

"I didn't realize you two were so similar. Always such a put together front," Matthew commented, looking away with a sigh.

"You really want to hear my stupid reason?" She showed him the screen of her phone, too quickly for him to focus without realizing. "The trains won't be running at the time I wanted to go home tomorrow. I will have to leave early and wait up till my parents come home for them or take a risky train-bus connection that doesn't have to work out."

Stunned silence. "Can't you just drive?"

"No, I can't just drive," she said, annoyed. "I hate driving and I don't have my car here and you can go and say how this is my fault for not overcoming myself with the car and-"

"Fine, I give up." Matthew put his hands up in surrender. "You have a total right to hate driving. You want me to drive you?"

"I-" Seline spluttered for air. "I-I can't ask that of you-"

"Well, you aren't asking, I'm offering," Matthew said with a shrug. "I can drive you to your parent house and then go back. Your trains will work on Sunday, right? I can pick you up at the station."

Seline crossed her arms on her chest, avoiding his gaze. "It's just this one time. I can take the trains normally, the timing fits well, with them coming home and all. Just this once." Shouldn't she invite him over when he drives her that long? She didn't invite him or Isaiah to meet her family yet.

"It's no problem," he said tiredly. "Stop defending it like I'm moving a mountain for you. If you told this to Isaiah, even hinted at it, he would offer the same."

Seline nodded, eyes overflowing with tears again, this time from how touched she was. Seriously, today was such a stupid day. She was crying for everything. "Thank you."

"Oi. What now?" Matthew said, a little exasperated. He turned to her, wrapping his bandaged hand around her elbow and then pushed her forward against his chest.

Seline melted at the contact, pressing her crying face against his chest. Matthew enclosed his arms around her, practically dragging her to sit in his lap as he held her. She sat with her side and arm against his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This is just over emotion. Don't worry," she said reassuringly as his hug tighthened.

He sighed into her hair.

She laughed nervously against his ear, chin on his shoulder, wanting to fill the silence with something. "No way I want Isaiah to see me like this. Giant minus point, to have such an emotional girl on his hands. He would be running for the hills."

Matthew snorted. "But you don't mind me seeing?"

"You won't break up with me," she said with a half-broken smile.

"He wouldn't either."

"Not on the first time. But on the fifth time? Tenth time? I better not give him more difficult times if I can help it, before he starts counting."

Matthew shook his head. She could feel the movement against her face as she closed her eyes. "No one is counting. That's not what couples do."

"Oh really? It's all I'm doing. Counting how much we are giving each other and if it's still ends up in mutual benefit."

She could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice. "I don't think it's supposed to work like that. It's not a business deal."

"It's very similar. I have to be pretty enough, attractive enough, smart and entertaining so when I really really need something, I can get a favour and not waste on something stupid and minor like this-"

"Isaiah would run himself to the ground caring for you and never think of something like that."

"Well, that's just because he is kind and selfless and so self-sacrifacing towards everyone. Doesn't make me any special."

Seline frowned. "I love you."

Matthew leaned forward, his face in his hands, leaving her with the view on his back. "You think emotion doesn't play any role? People aren't just a list of plus and minus traits. You feel something about them too. If everyone was so strick as you say, I wouldn't make the list for anyone."

There was a beat of silence.

Matthew jerked underneath her, looking up, face going all red. "What? Where did that come from?"

"You are right." Seline shrugged. "I'm very rational about the whole dating thing, comparing and counting things, because I don't want the pink glasses to blind me to our compatability. But when it comes to friendships or family or...well, pack, it's all about feelings and I know what I feel. I love you. In the family sort of way."

Matthew rubbed his forehead, unsuccessfully trying not to blush. "You have never said it to Isaiah, you can't blurt it out like that to me."

Seline suspected there hadn't been enough people saying it to Matthew in general. "I love him too. But if we work out as a couple, I have to love him in that other, romantic way too. I'm not sure we are that far yet."

Yes, she was attracted to Isaiah. It's been very hard for her to fall in love, to respect let alone to admire someone else, so she was very happy she found him. And he was intelligent, thoughtful, considerate and he put so much effort into everything and she admired him for many things...but she never had such a long relationship, as she was not interested in dating in her teen years, and the inexperience was making her cautious.

Matthew shook his head, burying it in his hands once again. He was breathing all harsh and fast. She could feel his chest heave underneath her. She wrapped her hands around his neck, suprised at how sweaty he was and how weirdly pale...was he like that from the start?

"Hey, Matt-"

"You two should really," he gulped loudly, shuddering, "have a talk. Being this tense and counting around each other can't be- hrrrk-" he burped loudly, slamming a hand to his lips.

Seline retracted her arms back, putting one gently on his chest and the other on his stomach. He was still breathing so fast and his stomach was heaving, like it shriveled under her palms...and suddenly Matthew leaned to the side and gagged violently over her arms on the floor.

"Matt!" she yelped as his stomach heaved and he gagged again, this time bringing a mouthful of water. Seline rubbed his stomach, feeling it contract as he heaved the third time, this time bringing up a big wave of water. "What's wrong with you? Are you- did you- you were feeling sick the whole time?"

Matthew spat onto the ground, giving a full-body shudder. "Sorry. I just..."

"Is this some kind of flu? Did you eat something bad?" Crisis always brought a calm over her, making her practical. She could feel her mind clearing from trivial concerns, emotions in the backround.

"Not really. My sparrring partner got a really good hit to my head today...I guess I was feeling a little light-headed since then." He blurred his words together a little and he was still that sickly pale.

"Wait, you mean to tell me you are concussed?" She tried to scramble away from his lap, not wanting to add weight to his misery. He was feeling sick and dizzy from a hit to the head and let her blabber on?

He tighetned his hold again, squeezing her against him, hanging his head on her shoulder. "Sorry...can I just...I don't really want to move." He smiled crookedly. "I can't believe I survived climbing up the stairs."

"Matt, you silly fool. You should have said something." She threaded her fingers through his hair, looking for a bump. "Did you heal yourself?"

"A little. Didn't really stop hurting all the way. And my, ehmm, ears are ringing a little." He winced at her touch but didn't pull away.

"Come on, you should get some sleep." His head was basically limp on his neck, barely holding himself up. She figured he could sleep since he healed himself with this shadow. It must have been the symptoms that remained. "You can stay in my room, I can't really help with the stairs like Isaiah can. You will be more comfortable there, okay?" And they would get away from the mess on the floor.

Coaxing Matthew to unwrap himself took another 5 minutes. She held him under the elbow, trying to stabilize him, but they both knew he was too big for her to hold his weight, should he fall. He stumbled the few steps to her bedroom, holding onto the wall and her for support.

He basically collapsed on her favourite pillow, squeezing his eyes in a painful way that cued her in on the light. She closed the curtains on the windows and fetched a wash-basin from the bathroom, then climbed into the double bed with him.

"Hmmmm...Do I have too many minus points for vomiting to get another hug today?" Matthew mumbled sleepily, rolling to his side as she adjusted the covers over him.

"You are such an idiot," she said fondly, wiggling herself under his arm, face against his chest. It was a warm, comfortable position for her too.

"You sure Isaiah won't mind?"

Seline chuckled. "From you, he won't. My guess? He will end up sleeping here today too." She kissed the top of his forehead. "The basin is right next to you. Tell me if you feel sick again. Should I get you a painkiller?"

"Nah. Can't stomach it right now. Just stay."

It warmed something inside her that he wanted her so close, that he might have hugged her the first time for his comfort as well. Or maybe just for her. He was such a marshmellow, it was a shame it only came out when he was feeling sick.

@bellysoupset

[rmedgg]

The Human Who Didn’t Know

Pairing: Normie male reader x Enid Sinclair and Wednesday Addams

Summary: A normal human boy is able to enroll into nevermore academy through a scholarship program thinking it was a school for people who were bullied or different, little did he know that he had gotten himself into a school of people who despise normies . Come and join him on his journey through life as the only normie on a campus full of outcasts.

First chapter or two will be set a bit before Wednesday actually joins the academy so don't be surprised if you don't see any of the actual cast for a bit. There will be some OCs. This is also my first book so there probably will be mistakes and such.

I do not own any characters or plot from the show Wednesday, I only own some of the plot, and some of the characters.

Chapter 1: The Tournament Of Nevermore

(Currently taking place about a month before the start of the semester.)

Y/n pov

"Tch, the things I have to do for a good education. Oh yeah y/n apply the tests you have to take aren't that hard. Damn liars what would you know." I thought with a scowl

Sure it may be for "outcasts" but, but man how bad could it be to attend school with some weirdos. I mean probably rich and snobby but weirdos nonetheless.

Either way those were my thoughts during the 100 question exam we had to take that only ended up leaving 8 of us.

The faculty, then rounded us up into a waiting area and said to wait be to called.

This scrawny looking kid and I were then called up first, into a colosseum looking place. Ms.Weems the principal of Nevermore Academy then said "ladies and gentlemen thank you for joining us at our quad annually held scholarship tournament. With out further to do, here we have our first match between the humans Donavan McDonald and y/n."

"Match? Humans? What is this woman talking about?"  "Excuse me Ms.Weems what exactly do you mean match?"

"Ah right, Mr.L/n you see this scholarship only has 4 spots available so in this tournament of eight people only 4 will get a spot of course each spot has there perks but we'll get to those after the winners of said spots have been chosen just know the higher you rank the better the outcome."

"So please get ready for this fight, and do not worry as we have trained medical teams to assist in case of any emergency or accident matches will be stopped if we believe that one of the contestants life is in danger or if they are at risk of being permanently injured." Continued Ms.Weems.

"I forfeit, I am not about to allow myself to become some sort of sick entertainment for all these people over some dumb school." Said Donavan.

Groans could be heard from a small crowd of people that were watching, yet out of all of the people there, two seemed to be the most disappointed. A tall slender lady in a black dress with pale white skin, who was holding hands with a shorter, rounder man who seemed of Latin descent.

"Ah I see that is fine Mr.McDonald, you shall be escorted out, thank you for coming out for our test." Stated Ms.Weems with a smile. "You may go back to the waiting room Mr.L/n."

"Uh, ok." "Man that shit was weird but I think this means I've made it."

As I walked in there was a boy who looked at me with curiosity, as if he wanted to ask me something.

"What?" I asked I asked not liking the way he was staring at me.

"Nothing I was just going to ask what happened out there since the walls here are sound proof and there's no way to see what's going on out there."

Said a teenager who looked to be 16 or 17 years old like me. He has orange colored hair with gray rabbit ears protruding from his head which I found kind of weird but this was going to be a school for outcasts.

"Ah right I'm Richard Scott, nice to meet you" said the rabbit boy

"Oh yeah nice to meet you too, I'm Y/n." I responded

"Right let me introduce you to my friends the one horns is Tommy Onini, the one with the dog ears is Blake Davenport." Said Richard

I looked at each of the boys as he introduced them to me Tommy had light brown hair, a stoic face with eyes that seemed to be staring into my soul along with 2 horns that stuck out of his head. Then there was Blake he had a bored expression on his face as if he was forced to be here or just didn't find it enjoyable, or maybe the floor just seemed to be more entertaining then a room full of people who were his competition. He like tho other two mentioned had something sticking out of his head but his seemed to be dog ears.

"These guys must really like cosplaying or something"

"Nice to meet you guys too, like I told Richard here I'm Y/n."

"Skip the formalities" said Tommy with an annoyed look on his face. "Just tell us what we should expect out there" he continued

"Sorry about him but he's always been a jerk even to me and Blake, he didn't try to punch you or hurt you in anyway so that's a step up." Said Richard with a nervous chuckle

"Right, anyway it's a tournament out of the 8 of us that we're here only 4 will gain a spot in the scholarship. So from my understanding you have to at least win the first round to be eligible" I stated

I watched as the 7 other contestants looked at each other with shock, now knowing they would have to fight each other. Then something unexpected happened they all started to smile and laugh they were excited even Blake seemed to have gotten a shine in his eye when I had mentioned fighting.

At that moment I decided to sit against a wall and nap, for however long I got to since I wasn't able to get much sleep due to me being excited and, nervous for the test. I shut my eyes and let darkness consume me. I was Rudely awoken what felt like hours later by Richard.

"Huh?  What's up man? You need something? How long was I out for?" I asked while rubbing the drowsiness from my eyes.

"The ceilings up, I don't but you need to get up since your up next, you were out for about 20 or 30 minutes."  Said Richard

"What?! I'm up already so soon? Who won?" I asked surprised that there fights had come and gone in a blink of an eye.

"Heh why don't you look for yourself? He retorted

I looked around him and there they were sitting, unscathed, bored both Tommy and Blake. Once they noticed my movement Tommy looked at me from the corner of his eye, and Blake stood up and started walking towards the door saying only one thing.

"We're next."

My eyes widen in surprise, surprised that he spoke. I sighed as I got up from my sitting position and made my way out the door, and shutting it I hear Richard wishing me luck, which causes me to smile even though I'm facing his friend he's rooting me a stranger on.

"Well let's get this over with." I said to no one in particular

Blake was already standing on his side of the arena ready to fight, while I was on my side I was not ready to fight I was hoping I'd have a bit more time to prepare myself not only to fight but to fight in front of all these people. I started to jump in place like professional fighters do warming my body up. As I did that I looked around at the people who were watching the pale lady and Latino man were still there and were looking at me with interest.

"Welcome to the quarter finales of the Nevermore scholarship tournament the final 4 contestants will all be receiving a spot on the scholarship now there only competing for the prize. As I said before those perks will be discussed privately with each winner of each position. So without further to do Blake Davenport vs Y/n L/n, boys same rules as before. Whenever your ready, FIGHT!" Said/shouted Ms. Weems into the microphone.

I blinked and I was on my knees, it felt as if I'd been run over by a car going 60 miles per hour (96.56 km/h for those outside the states) I felt and heard some ribs snap, then I started to cough up blood.

"Ah shit that's not good."

I was then picked up by my neck by Blake to have our eyes meet.

"Are you this weak? Are you not going to fight?" He said with disdain in his tone of voice.

Then it happened the humans greatest power, the will to live. My fight or flight state of mind,  kicked in but I knew on this situation it was fight or fight as the option to run would mean quitting and my pride, my ego couldn't just accept a defeat that came from giving up. I threw a right hook  and it landed causing him to let me go and a collective gasp and breathes of relief to be heard from the crowd.

"Tch so you did have some fight in you." Blake smiled "I hope you can truly keep me entertained."

He charged at me. I knew he was moving at an inhumane speed, I shouldn't have been able to keep up yet all this adrenaline rushing into my body is allowing me too. So I prepare myself, when he is in front of me ready to take me down I try dodge last second but my body can't keep up with my mind and I'm knocked to the floor. When knocked to the floor he got on top of me in a full mount position and started to rain punches down on my chest and head while all I could do was defend my face and head.

"Oh come on don't tell me that punch was all you had in you, if you don't end this fight soon you might end up dead." Blake said as he laughed manically

"Shit he's right I'll have to throw in some punches, I can't just be on the defense now. Wait I got it."

Letting my blood gather inside of my mouth from all the damage I had been receiving, I spat into his face cause temporary blindness which allowed me an opening to punch him. As I punched his body I felt as if I was punching some sort of inhumane wall so I settled for his face which seemed more sensitive I landed a left jab straight into his nose and an uppercut which caused him to fall off of me. I then rushed to his back and wrapped my arm around his neck,and started to apply pressure effectively placing him into a chokehold leaning back with all my weight it still didn't seem like enough to effect this monster but I could tell it was started to bother him when he started to swing his arms wildly around. That's when I noticed them his nails had become like claws which caused me to loosen up my grip a bit, which was enough for him to slash my left eye with 2 of his claws.

"You damn bastard wasn't being stronger than me enough for you, you had to make my left eye useless right now!" I shouted in anger

Blake laughed "you are the first to entertain me in a fight and even made me use some of my transformation you'll...!"

"Oh shut up you mutt, an eye for an eye!" I yell as I use my own nails to scratch over his right eye

Gasps of shock and surprise were heard from the spectator area. Then came the hushed whispers of how this human was and is monstrous than any of them. The pale lady looked at her husband with a wide smile as she kissed him and thanked him for this wonderful anniversary gift.

"What! What is this damn feeling I hate it! Is this pain?!" Thought Blake as he smiled crazily. He couldn't see through his right eye due to the blood that was flowing from the 3 cuts that his opponent had made.

"Be honored Y/n L/n you are the first person who has ever made me wolf out in a fight, your attacks have left a wound that will most certainly scar me, so be proud human. " stated Blake.

Those were the last words along with the gasps of shock and horror I heard as I blacked out.

"Huh! Where am I why can't I see?!? Help!" Is what you yelled out as you woke up suddenly

"Mr.L/n please calm down your in the hospital. I am doctor Sherman, I shall go and inform Ms.Weems of your awakening, and she can tell you the rest." Informed the doctor

"Ok, thank you doctor." I said while nodding my head.

"I see your awake now Mr.L/n, that fight of your was very intense to say the least. Anyways no matter how intense you still came in 4th place meaning you get all of the base perks of the scholarship which are payed tuition, payed lunch, and a $250 dollar room customization bonus. Along with an allowance of $20 per week as you came in 4th."

"Woah ok that sounds amazing in all honesty. I hate to change the subject so abruptly but I have some questions if you wouldn't mind answering them Ms.Weems."

"Of course Mr. L/n ask away."

"My eyes will I be blind? My internal damage how was that? I didn't damage Blake's eye did I? Was my family informed? How long was I out?"

"Yours eyes will be fine just some scarring over the left eye, they were pretty bad but we have some of the best doctors here and they were able to fix and place the bones where they need to be, you should be fully if not almost completely healed by now, his eye like yours only suffered some scarring, they were informed your mother was not happy but she said she would wait for your call as soon as you woke up and you have been out for a 29 days as of today. I would say very good healing time for all the damage you sustained and being only a human.

"I see, would you mind if I was to call my mother now?"

"Of course not, I'll dial her number for you and once your finished there'll be a nurse outside your door waiting to help you with those bandages."

"Ok thank you Ms.Weems"

"Oh man moms going to kill me for this."

"Hey mom how are you? Yes yes I'm fine I'm still alive and kicking. Yes it was very idiotic of me to fight with that guy, but in all fairness he didn't seem the most athletic or anything so I thought I had a chance. Either way I'm fine and I'll be discharged today and start school in 2 or 3 days. Yes mother I'll make sure to call you at least once a week. I love you too. Bye."

"Nurse I'm done on the phone if you could help me" I yelled as to get her attention

"Sir please do not yell we are in a hospital"

"Ah right sorry ma'am"

After a couple of minutes of having the bandages around my eyes removed the light blinded me. After 5 minutes or so of adjusting they brought me a walker to support myself, along with a change of clothes. After thanking the staff that helped me I made my way into a car with Ms.Weems.

"Man if school hasn't even started and it's already crazy how will the school year itself go." I thought to myself.

"Ah before I forget you will be sharing a room with Blake as he requested it himself as that was a perk of being the champion."  Ms.Weems said

"Picking a roommate was a perk no offense but sounds kind of lame." I responded

"No he could have had his own personal room as but he decided he would prefer a roommate and that roommate would happen to be you." She replied

"Oh." Was all I could think to say.

"We're here." Says Ms.Weems as we drive up to some giant rusted gates with the name of the academy on the top.

"Man you would think they'd try to keep the gate in nice shape." I thought as we passed the gate and pulled to the schools entrance.

"Your bags will be delivered tomorrow, and school will officially start in two days. If you have any questions no matter the subject please let me or any of the faculty know. Blake should be waiting to show you to your dorm."

"Ok thank you for the ride. " I said as I got out of the car.

"Of course. " responded Ms.Weems with a smile.

I saw Blake and started to walk towards him hand outstretched. "Hey man, how are you? No hard feelings right?"

"I am fine. Of course not, but I could ask the same of you Y/n." Blake said

"I'm great, I mean I made it into the school I wanted to, like you I see no need to have any hard feelings over that fight." I stated while smiling

"Heh, you truly are someone worth following behind. " He said with a smirk as he turned and walked away "come on now let me show you to our dorm."

"Yeah sounds good, wait what do you mean follow behind!? Answer me damn it!" I shouted as I ran behind him to catch up to him.

__________________________

Authors notes

This is my story, if your interested in reading ahead it’s already on Wattpad my account on there is rmedgg hope you enjoy. ill be making another post that will have the link to the book but I will be uploading the chapters onto here eventually

This is the first chapter of my first book, so please leave me some feedback both good and bad.

If you have any questions about anything just ask.

Some side notes: Y/n isn't aware that the outcasts the school is for is like "monsters" as he didn't read it he just saw outcasts and interpreted it as people who were bullied or just didn't fit in at normal schools.

I'm not to sure on if the who world knows of "outcasts" in the Wednesday verse but for the sake of my story they tend to stay northeast for the weather so in other states there more like urban legends.

[saturnscode]

PART 2: Too old to be a kid, too young to be an adult.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath.

Porchay is not a lucky person. Good things don’t happen to him, ever, and even though his brother had a rough time for most of their lives – to be more precise: the entirety of Chay’s life –, things were getting better. Not improving but slowly starting to take place.

He doesn’t call ‘being-raised-by-his-brother-because-their-parents-died-at-a-very-young-age’ bad luck, it was just hard. His hia never got to live his own life and Porchay felt guilty about it until he was old enough to understand.

So, when P’Kinn appear in his brother’s life it was a like a breath of fresh air, for both of them. Finally, someone cared for him and was able to protect him, finally, someone loved him the way his hia deserve and Porchay thought he could loosen up a bit, he could do things he would never dare in the past in order to not make things harder for Porsche.

But now his hia had P’Kinn, who would always remind him to eat and take vitamins, he would rush to him if he was sick so Porchay didn’t have to, he would take them to dinner and show real interest in the younger brother. He would also buy his brother expensive gifts that Porchay only dreamt to get him. And Porsche was happy, so incredibly happy Porchay felt like he could finally breathe.

And he did. He let loose a little bit.

He would sneak out with Macau to go to parties and drink, he would dance with strangers and have his first kiss under neon lights with some random guy for a dare. And it was fun just acting without thinking not worrying about things, dancing and screaming without being anxious about tomorrow because he knows no one will barge into his house looking for money, he knows he can go to school and eat tasty food without feeling guilty.

And even when he had this new freedom his brother wasn’t aware of, Porchay wasn’t stupid. He knew his limits and so does Macau who was his designated caretaker for night outs.

Porchay also discovered that he was attractive. He caught people’s attention. He would get free drinks and compliments without doing much. That makes him feel good, it gives him some type of power he never really got growing up. So he took advantage of it, he kissed cute boys and danced until his feet hurt, he would let people chase him and maybe he would make fun of them, but they wouldn’t mind because they only wanted one thing, and so did Chay.

And it was all fun and games until he decided to be stupid enough to play around at his brother’s birthday. It was selfish and thoughtless of him. Everything since that night has felt like his bad luck has come back.

His brother was upset, but not with him, with poor P’Kinn who had nothing to do with anything. And Porchay tried to talk to him, to explain to an extent that wouldn’t affect him, but it didn’t work. His hia wouldn’t pick up calls or meet with his boyfriend and that terrified Chay, not because he could lose what they had now but because he didn’t want his brother to fall back into the void he was before he met P’Kinn.

Porchay didn’t think things could get worse, until this very moment.

His day has been uneventful, same boring classes with the same boring faces. Hand homework and eat plain food at the cafeteria with his best friend. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until they step outside at the end of the day and he saw him, waiting for him outside his faculty. Arms crossed over his chest, leaning on his motorcycle, looking at every face coming out of the building through his sunglasses was his bad luck back. Stronger than ever.

Kim Theerapanyakul.

Damn him and his ridiculously good-looking face and slim body that made him lose focus two weeks ago and sent everything to hell. Damn Chay for being so stupid to give in to his advances and guide him directly into a trap that backfired for everyone.

But he refuses to make the same mistake, so he took Macau by his shoulders and hides behind his back, slightly turning him over to face Kimhan so he couldn’t see him.

“Chay?” he struggles as he tries to turn around to look at the boy.

“Where’s your bike?” Porchay whispers behind him, peaking over his shoulder.

“Parking lot. Why?” Macau asks, giving up completely and just standing there.

Porchay was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to Macau since P’Pete, he made his days brighter and he’d made him softer, he was truly grateful to have met him but there were times, like this moment, when Chay would just exude trouble, like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode and this was one of those times.

“Take me home,” he says firmly.

“What?” Macau turns around and Chay ducks down avoiding his gaze. “P’Porsche hates when you ride my bike.”

“It doesn’t matter right now!” he whispers, exasperated.

Oh no, trouble.

“What did you do?” Macau asks, slowly crossing his arms on his chest.

 “More like who…” Porchay is already turning his back as if he pretends to crawl to the parking lot.

“What?!” he yells this time, grabbing the collar of Chay’s shirt.

“I’m kidding!” he raises his hands as he stands up, “I’ll tell you everything but first, we need to get home.”

Macau nods and Chay lets out a relieved sigh but before he could even give his best friend a smile he notices the dark-haired man is no longer at sigh. The car is still there, almost mocking him like it’s waiting for Chay to get inside but no one is around and for a second, Porchay thinks Kim is inside just about to drive off.

But then, again, Chay is not a lucky person. So it doesn’t surprise him when Kimhan appears behind Macau out of nowhere. It’s almost like it was expected and he took too long to pull off the magic trick.

“Porchay Kittisawasd,” he says behind him with the deepest tone Chay has ever heard.

A chill runs down his spine and he can feel his cheeks getting warmer. He’s doomed. But just as he’s about to say something, Macau turns around recognizing the voice if the frown on his face says something.

“Kimhan?!” he exclaims, tilting his head to the side as if seeing him there wouldn’t make any sense. And it doesn’t, he shouldn’t be here. “What are you doing here?”

Kim looks at his cousin and then back to Porchay but he decides to ignore it just as he’s been doing with the rest of the family. He starts approaching the boy that has caused his headaches for the last few days but Macau stops him, extending one hand and pushing his chest.

“I have something to talk about with your little friend here, move.” He’s not even looking at him, his eyes are fixed on Chay and the younger feels like he can’t breathe or even move.

“What do you have to do with him?” Macau faces him and that makes Kim look at him, giving Chay time enough to try run out of there.

It doesn’t take him far. Chay is not a very athletic person, he’s a musician, an artist. So it takes Kim two steps and one extended arm to catch him and hold him close to him, his arm over his shoulders holding his back close to his chest. He was caged. Porchay squirms and pushes his arms but the grab is tight and he gives up when Macau is about to intervene.

“What are you doing? Let him go.” He sounds mad and Porchay knows what will happen if he doesn’t stop this.

He always knew about Macau, they were in the same high school but they never talked to each other, there wasn’t a reason for it, Chay and Macau were very different at the surface. It wasn’t until P’Pete – his hia’s best friend – decided to finally introduce his boyfriend that hell broke loose. Apparently, the Theerapanyakuls weren’t too fond of each other so the cousins weren’t happy when they found out they were dating a set of best friends.

It took time to keep things civil, to make the reunions friendly and chatty even when they were all pretending – Hia said that eventually they’d stop and they’d be genuinely glad to be in each other’s company – so to make this go smoothly, P’Pete thought it would be a good idea for Macau and Chay to meet. Porsche was against it at first, but after meeting Macau and seeing that he was just a kid – a ruder and more aggressive –, he could find a resemblance with his younger brother.

So he let them be. Macau was reluctant at the beginning but Chay was good with people, he was charming and warm and he tore down Macau’s walls. They became confidants, they would exchange stories and between those stories were the Theerapanyakul cousins. After everything that happened on his hia’s birthday, Chay could finally place a face in those stories and he knows this will end badly if he doesn’t know anything about it, so he gives up and accepts his destiny.

“It’s okay, Cau,” Porchay says, stopping struggling and just resting his back on Kim’s chest. “I’ll go with him.”

“What?!” Macau is confused and it’s understandable, Porchay never told him what happen two weeks ago. “Why?”

“I’ll tell you everything later!” Kim huffs over his head and turns around, walking towards his car. “Promise!” he yells as he’s being dragged. “Don’t call Hia!”

“He doesn’t need to,” Kimhan whispers as he pushes Porchay inside his car and turns around to open the door on the driver’s sit.

-

The car ride is quiet. No one dares to make a sound, Chay doesn’t even dare to look at him properly.

Porchay used to be shy. He would stutter and move around when people would stare at him intensely. He would play with his hands and his voice would get higher. But that had changed eight months ago after he found this new ability in him that he didn’t know he had. He could get people nervous too and he loved it.

But right now, he couldn’t even move from his sit. Kimhan Theerapanyakul is mad. He could tell by the way he’s holding the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white and how he’s clenching his jaw, so Chay decides to stay quiet, at least until they reach whatever place the guy beside him has in mind.

Which appears to be Yok’s bar. Porchay feels his stomach drop when he parks right outside his brother’s former place of work. Why are they there? Chay needs to think fast because he doesn’t have an idea of what’s waiting for him inside. Why come back?

Kimhan is not a patient person. It comes with the privilege of being born with a silver spoon in the mouth. He has never had to wait for anyone or anything and people can tell. Porchay can tell just by looking at him, standing next to the door and tapping the street with his foot as he looks intensely at Porchay still inside the car. So, before he would come to get him himself, Chay decides to step out.

The older leads the way and Porchay walks in as if it’s the first time he has come here. Behind the bar, Yok waits for them with an open laptop. Chay swallows.

The place is empty, obviously, it opens at 7 and it’s barely 5 in the afternoon. The sunlight still manages to fill the place from the open windows at the sides of the room, it feels warm inside but having Kimhan walk next to him at a hasty pace with a look on his face it’s cold as ice, the muscles of back contracted under his brown jacket, making him look a little taller than Porchay, so he decides to check him out.

He still has the sunglasses on when they walk in but Chay stays behind, looking at the back of his head, his hair in a failed intent of a ponytail, his shoulders looking wide and stiff, his arms at his sides, and his hands turned into fists. Kimhan is hot, that’s common knowledge. People still talk about him even when he finished his studies a year ago, he has seen pictures of him in panels and promotional posters but he never really cared enough to learn his last name, maybe he should have, if he did he could have saved them all of this mess.

That night, two weeks ago, he didn’t recognize him at first, not until he was right in front of him. No one really talked about‘P’Kim’wearing glasses so, at a distance, he just looked like a hot college student. When Chay laid eyes on him, when he saw him face to face, he couldn’t believe it. What was he doing in Yok’s bar? He’s known for clubbing in the richest part of the city but he didn’t question it, he just wanted a taste of what everyone fantasizes about.

Which turned out to be a little bit of hell for both of them.

But he has to admit that their kiss has been replaying in his mind since then, even when he has tried so hard not to. He can still taste him on his lips, feel his hands on his waist and hear his breath in his ear. He hates the fact that he lives up to his reputation and Porchay thought that he could play along. Maybe he can, he approached him first after all.

He shouldn’t be thinking all of this, not if he’s trying to make hia forget about the whole matter without having to admit some things about himself that he would rather keep to himself.

Porchay shakes his head. This is not the place nor the time to be remembering what happened at the back of that alley, especially not with Kim near at hand and Yok eyeing them both the second they stepped into the place.

“Mr. Theerapanyakul,” she says with her joyful voice. Porchay smiles just looking at her. “I presume you’re Nong Kinn’s little brother?”

Kim’s jaw clenches. That seems to bother him.

“I called you earlier for something.” He says with a deep tone and threatening eyes. “I will reward you for it, don’t have to worry”

Yok doesn’t flinch.

Oh, poor Kimhan.

Chay bites off his smile before Yok pushes the laptop aside and crosses her arms over the bar looking directly at him. Her expression has changed entirely. She looks irked like she’s dealing with a rebellious teenager and not an intimidating young man.

In all the years Porchay has gotten to know her, he has never seen her scared. Chay is not dumb, he knows how dangerous this part of the city is, he knows what his brother used to do before meeting P’Kinn, and he also knows that fights break all the time in the business when you deal with criminals and alcohol. He also knows that Yok always keeps a bat under the bar.

“I agreed to do you this favor because you’re Kinn’s little brother and because you’re bringing my baby with you but let me tell you something pretty boy, I already saw the video and I don’t think it will do much for you.”

With that, Yok walks to Porchay and holds his face before kissing both of his cheeks and asking him with her eyes if everything is okay at which Chay nods, because it is, so she nods in return, telling them she’d be at her office at the back. Porchay agrees to call her if he needs anything and watches her walk to the back of the back.

Kimhan huff and takes the open laptop, turning it over to have it displayed in front of him. A video file is open and Porchay feels his heart drop to his stomach when he recognizes the back of the alley on the screen.

Since when did the bar install cameras?

Kim smirks as he playfully takes off his sunglasses and plays the video. Porchay can feel his cheeks warming up as he waits for something to happen. It takes the longest two minutes of Chay’s life for the scenery to change and the door finally opens, Porchay can see himself walking out and Kimhan holding the door for him before coming to stand in front of Chay and hiding him in his frame after that one can only tell they’re kissing by Chay’s arms on Kim’s shoulders but nothing more.

The video it’s taken far away and there’s no audio. Whatever Kim was hoping to find with this video, he obviously didn’t get it. Porchay wants to laugh but he stops the video the second he sees his brother open the door, and turns to look at Kimhan.

“Fuck me, then.” He says to himself but Porchay can’t help but feel a shiver running down his spine.

Kimhan walks behind the bar and picks up a bottle of whiskey and pours himself a drink. Porchay frown as he sees him walking back and sitting in one of those tall chairs and drinking the whiskey at once. Before he could grab the bottle again, Porchay makes him turn around in the chair and struggles as he positions himself on his lap.

“What are you doing?!” he sounds mad but his hands help him stabilize holding his waist, “get off.”

Porchay should be scared. The tone of his voice and his gaze would be enough to scare anyone but he decides to put the strands of hair that falls on his face behind his ear and grab his waist with his legs. Something by the way he swallows tells him he wouldn’t dare to do anything to him. It could be because of his brother or maybe even Porsche, but something in his eyes tells Chay that it could also be for him.

“I already explain to Hia and P’Kinn.” He says slowly as if he’s talking with a kid, one that has his hands on his tights. “Why are you so worked up about this, P’Kim?” Chay asks, “P’Kinn said you’re always getting yourself in trouble.”

Porchay looks at him genuinely curious as his fingers wander on his face, making Kim close his eyes and let out a breathless sigh, “What is it this time, huh?” the younger scoffs, “Did P’Kinn take your credit cards?” he laughs and Kimhan tries to take him off of him, but Porchay hugs his shoulders and he tights up the grip on his waist with his legs.

“If Kinn already knows but he’s still mad at him that means this time, he is truly…”

Kimhan stops himself as if the mere idea of saying it out loud is worse than the thing itself, he avoids Chay’s eyes but he doesn’t need to look at him to know exactly what he’s thinking, what he feels because it has been his greatest fear too.

P’Kim fears he has disappointed his brother.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he decides to say and tries to push him away once more. “Get off.”

“But I do,” Porchay says in a whisper, gently touching Kim’s cheek to make him turn to look at him, “I don’t know what P’Kinn told you about us, but my hia took the role of raising me when he was a kid himself and I’ve been trying so hard to not do anything that would upset him, anything that woulddisappointhim.”

When their eyes meet again, Chay knows that’s exactly how Kim feels, his eyes have softened up and his lips are partly open like an invitation and Porchay decides to take it, slowly diving in.

“Kinn, what the fuck am I looking at?”

Before Porchay could even recognize his brother’s voice, his butt hits the floor and Kimhan is standing next to him.

“This is not-,” Kim hurries to speak only to be cut off by his brother

“Did you call us to meet you here because you wanted to show us what exactly?”

P’Kinn is wearing a grey suit with a white shirt with two buttons open under it, he has his hands in his pockets, and a tired look as he approaches Kim, and Porchay hurries to stand up but Porsche is already grabbing him by his side.

“Stop!” Porchay yells because he has lost control of the situation and he can’t let this go any further. “I have something to tell you, Hia.”

Before Porsche’s hand reaches his cheek, before he could even ask if he’s okay, Porchay starts talking. He tells him about the nights out and this new power he has discovered; he tells him about knowing Kim from rumors and photos but not knowing anything about his relationship with P’Kinn, he tells him about dragging Kim outside that night and how dumb it was. He tells Porsche no one seduced him, no one tricked him to follow him, and he tells him he was not at disadvantage.

And when it finally sinks in and Porsche looks at him again, Porchay feels like a piece of him is broken because his hia is looking at him in a way he has never done before. As if he doesn’t know him.

“I’m an adult, Hia.” Porchay whispers, tears filling his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says avoiding his glance, “you’re barely eighteen but you’re an adult now.” He turns to Kim, then and Chay holds his breath. “Sorry for all that-”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kinn says grabbing his arm.

“No, we were antagonizing him when he was trying to show me that my little brother is not who I think he was,” he says looking at Kimhan before turning to his boyfriend. “Your brother is a spoiled asshole and my brother has been lying to me all along.”

“Hia,” Porchay cries out extending his arms to grab his brother’s wrist, making him turn to look at him.

“Are you really crying? Or are you putting up another show?”

“Porsche-” Kim tries to step in but stops when he sees the way older Kittisawasd looks at him.

“That’s enough, you’ve proven your point, you don’t need to come anywhere near my brother if it’s not necessary.”

And with that, Porsche drags Chay out of the bar. Porchay tries to hush his whimpers as his brother opens the back door of his boyfriend’s car and waits for him sited next to the driver’s seat. Ten minutes later, he finally comes out and starts driving to their house. No one says a thing and Chay feels like suffocating.

He finally did it. He made his worst nightmare come true.

*

It takes a month for things to go back to normal or the closest that they could get to that. They talked after the third day Porchay spent crying locked in his room because his hia refused to talk to him. Porsche told him then that he wasn’t upset that he was partying and meeting people, he was upset because he lied to him, he never told him he wanted to do those things, and because he was afraid of everything and everyone because no one loved Chay as much as he does and he didn’t want him to get hurt, because he couldn’t protect him.

Porchay apologized and cried until he had no more energy or voice in him, and slowly, it got better.

-

Kimhan has been feeling uneasy.

It’s new to him, he doesn’t think he has felt like this before. It’s strange, he can go on about his day completely normal, and then, out of the blue, he would feel like a heavy weight fell on his shoulders or he would feel this pressure on his chest that would make breathing a little hard. Maybe it was anxiety or the fact that he has been so busy lately that he couldn’t even take a couple of minutes to smoke a cigarette.

He also finds himself worrying in the middle of the night, keeping him from sleeping, it didn’t matter how tired he was. Kim couldn’t find a reason, mainly because he chose to ignore every time the same pair of doe eyes that appear when he closes his eyes, or that cheeky smile and rosy cheeks that make his fingertips itch.    

Everything was settled. He didn’t need to go around shaking things up with whatever was going on inside his mind. Kinn called it an unfortunate event that everyone was so desperate to put behind and act as if never happened. And Kim should be doing the same, but it’s almost like it’s out of his control, his face would randomly pop up in his mind and he would force himself to think of anything else.

So he did as the rest of the family did.

The younger brothers were caught up in a make-out session at the back of an alley? Yeah, never happened.

Kim certainly never tasted Porchay’s lips and found them incredibly sweet, his fingers never touched his soft cheeks and he never wanted to bite them, his hands never held his waist and his ears never caught him panting. And over all those things, he never heard Porchay consoling him, he never saw him genuinely cry in front of his brother because he didn’t want Kinn to be disappointed by the spoiled brat of a brother he has.

He just has to forget everything, there’s no point in reliving an incident everyone wants to leave in the past. Kim knows exactly why; he knows his older brother well enough to know he’s building a life with Porsche in the center of it all. This is not just a relationship, this is his future and Kim should not mess with it.

So he ignores it, his thoughts, his craving, and the eagerness he refuses to acknowledge. But everything goes to hell when Tankhun barges into the big salon one of the days he decides to visit the family house and announces the Kittisawasd will be joining them for dinner at Kinn’s birthday in three days.

Kimhan clears his throat and tries to not show interest the moment the last name leaves his brother’s lips but his neck turned to him before he could even register the information.

Kinn’s birthday dinners were excruciatingly tiresome. They were more of business meetings in some salon at one of their hotels, a lot of important people would attend and Kim would have to wear a very uncomfortable suit for around two hours before he flees. But this time, the dinner will be held in the main house and it will family only.

Maybe now his father would realize how serious Kinn is about Porsche, not like he looks for his approval but it’s more like recognition. Kim just hopes the evening goes well, seeing Porchay again has nothing to do with the way his heart starts to beat a bit faster.

-

It’s kind of ridiculous the way Kimhan keeps staring at the door waiting for people to come in from the dark corner in the salon that he has chosen to hide for the rest of the night when almost everyone is already there. He even sees his cousins walk in and he rolls his eyes before sipping his drink.

“Cousin,” he doesn’t see Macau approaching him until it’s too late to avoid him.

“I thought this was a family-only event,” Kim says without even looking at him, fixing his glasses over his nose.

“Your sense of humor is as nonexistent as the reason you wear those glasses.” The youngest of the Theerapanyakul caste says with a smile on his face and Kim has never wanted to punch him more than at this moment.

Maybe Macau knows that he can’t misbehave tonight.

“Get lost,” he whispers back with a smile on his lips.

“You know it’s your fault P’Porsche doesn’t want me to hang out with Chay alone anymore,” he whispers back and Kim can tell he’s mad.

“They never should’ve let you hang out with him in the first place,” Kim tilts his head to the side and then, something incredible happens in the room.

The door opens again and Kinn walks in with the biggest smile he has seen on his face until now. He’s holding Porsche’s hand and guiding him inside with Porchay following close behind. Vegas and his boyfriend walk to meet them in the middle and Tankhun run to them, hugging Chay tight enough to steal all the air in his lungs. Macau has disappeared from his side and now he’s grabbing Chay’s arm and dragging him to the other corner of the room.

 Kim watches the scene play out and he realizes that for the first time since their mother died, the big salon of the main house feels warm and content.

-

Kimhan and Porchay are sited at opposite sits of the table and he doesn’t know if it was intentional or just happened that way. Their father is at the head of the table and strangely enough, he’s smiling, making questions, and even laughing at something Porchay said but Kim couldn’t catch. If a stranger would walk in, they would appear to be the perfect family, all in sweaters and easy smiles, eating dessert and drinking white wine.

After everyone finished eating and left the dining room to return to the big salon, Kim started to receive curious looks from the guests, both his family members and Kinn’s friends. He pretends he doesn’t notice as he plays with the drink in his hand but he knows what all of them are thinking. Why is he still here? By this time, Kimhan would have already bailed from his brother’s celebration, especially if it was held in the main house.

But he couldn’t leave, not just yet at least.

Macau has been stuck by Chay’s side the whole night and Porsche steals glances at his brother from time to time, making it almost impossible for Kim to approach him. But then Porchay looks in his direction and then avoids his glance when he realizes Kimhan is already looking at him so he finally decides to finish his drink and walk to where his cousin and the youngest Kittisawasd are standing.

Kimhan rests his arm over Macau’s shoulder and he turns to him with a disgusted look on his face which he chooses to ignore. He’s not even looking at him, his eyes are fixed on Porchay’s face and if he didn’t know better he would think the blush on his cheeks is because of him and not the four glasses of wine that he’s been drinking. Not that Kim has been counting.

“How’ve you been…Macau?” Kim asks without even sparing a glance at his cousin.

“Huh?” he answers.

“Did I tell you, Macau, that everything is fine with Hia now? Not like before but we’re getting there. Rebuilding trust and all that.” Porchay says, touching Macau’s arm, making him turn to look at the youngest.

“Yes, you did.” He answers almost like he’s making a question, “after crying for like a week and then being grounded for like a month.” He can’t say another word because Chay hits his stomach with his elbow making him lean in holding his waist. 

“It was only three days.” Porchay smiles patting Macau in the back.

“I’m sure Macau is glad that everything worked out in the end,” Kim says, softly, fixing his glasses again as he looks down at Chay, ignoring his cousin coughing, almost gasping for air.

“It’s not like you’re not allowed to talk to each other, jeez!”

And now everyone is looking at them. Porchay has his eyes wide open and Kim feels that maybe it’s time to leave, so he does. He nods at Chay and then to his brother before walking to him and wishing him a good rest of the night. Kimhan avoids Porsche’s eyes as he exits the room and goes to the garage for his car.

He doesn’t notice the smile on his face until he arrives at his apartment.

*

It wasn’t Porchay’s intention to go out tonight. It wasn’t his plan when he told his hia he was going to Macau’s to spend the night watching movies and playing games, it kind of came out of nowhere and now they were in this underground exclusive club Macau got access, something that won’t be repeating itself in at least the next two years, so they had to go. And there they are, drinks in hand trying to walk in between the sweaty and intoxicated bodies before the artist of the night performs.

“This is like a whole show,” Macau screams in his ear so Porchay can hear him over the music. “Even celebrities perform here.”

Porchay is excited, maybe sneaking out from Macau’s room on the second floor will be worth it. People start screaming when someone walks up on stage with a microphone on hand and a charismatic smile. Chay doubts him to be the artist of the night but cheers with everyone else nevertheless.

“And now…” The announcer says loudly into the microphone with a smirk on his face, “to make all your little fantasies come true, the house’s favorite rockstar… WIK!” and then, he steps down the stage.

“You have to be kidding me,” Macau huffs. “All the trouble for this?”

The lights go off and everyone holds their breath.

“Why?” Porchay whispers to Macau, “you don’t like him?”

His best friend turns to look at him in shock. “You don’t know who WIK is?”

“I don’t think I have heard him yet,” Chay says, shaking his head in confusion.

“Oh, Chay,” Macau puts an arm over Porchay’s shoulders, “We both know who he is.”

The lights go on with a strident noise and then, in the middle of the stage, Kimhan Theerapanyakul stands tall and proud. His hair is down and his glasses are gone. He looks majestic, unreachable and now Porchay can understand why people in his university keep talking about him, why they haven’t moved on. Looking at him in that colorful tank top and that silky black shirt over it, he’s breathtaking and his brain may have stopped working because he can’t really tell what’s happening in his surroundings, he doesn’t feel a thing, he doesn’t hear a thing until Kim lifts the microphone to his lips.

When he starts singing, Porchay thinks he could lose his mind. If he turns around and tells anyone that he has kissed this man, that he has sat on his lap and played with his hair, no one would believe him. Right now, he doesn’t even believe it himself.

He knew Kimhan graduated from the music department but seeing him like this on a stage moving around, dancing to the beat, and singing the words almost like whispers is making things to Chay’s body. He feels tingling from his toes to his ears, his throat is dry and his hands are itching. This WIK persona is intoxicating and Porchay feels drunk without even haven’t taken two sips of his drink.

Chay can’t take his eyes off the stage in front of him, so he doesn’t really know when Macau disappear or if he even let him know where he was going but now he’s surrounded by strangers and one of them has his hand on his hip and they are moving to the beat of Kim’s song, one he hasn’t heard before. Well, he hasn’t heard any of WIK’s songs before, and for some reason, he feels grateful for that because now he’s lost in the music, in Kim’s words and the melody that makes him feel like floating.

His knees feel like giving up when Kim screams‘Baby, it’s you’in a high pitch, making Chay feel warm everywhere. The stranger's hand wanders over his chest and his waist but Porchay doesn’t seem to care, he leans into his body and holds his weight by the back of this man’s neck and feels heavy breathing on the crack of his neck where it meets his shoulder and then sloppy lips at the back of his ear. For a second, Porchay can swear he locks eyes with Kim.

Porchay closes his eyes and Kim’s voice fills up his mind as this stranger turns him around and catches his lips in a rough kiss. Chay lets him have his way for a few seconds before slightly punching him away and turning around, to look at Kim. The stranger hugs his waist and sings Kim’s songs back to his ear, but his voice almost insults the man they have in front of their eyes.

The next couple of songs passes in a blur. Chay feels like a fifteen-year-old in a concert and he even pouts when Kimhan leaves the stage, letting the air in his lungs out as if he was holding it the whole time. The colorful lights are gone and the generic club music plays on but Porchay is still on a high, too much energy in his feet and his fingertips to do something other than jump around with everyone else.

The stranger positions himself in front of Chay with a grin. He’s not bad looking but after seeing people like the Theerapanyakul, no one else can compare. He does looks around his brother’s age, he's muscular and tall, his back is big enough to cover all of Chay’s frame and, somehow, that excites Porchay so he keeps jumping, singing whatever song it’s playing right now.

The guy entertains Chay for a couple of minutes before grabbing his wrist and dragging him away from the crowd and around the club. Porchay is still a little dizzy from the sudden movement but he can recognize any hall that leads to the restrooms, so he pulls the guy into a kiss, leaning his back against the wall. He is not thinking of going further tonight.

Porchay feels his hands trying to go under his shirt and his tongue trying to break the barrier of his teeth and he starts to feel uncomfortable. He pushes him away but he doesn’t catch a hint, instead, he kisses his cheeks, leaving a trace of saliva and scrapping the skin of his cheek and neck with his stubble.

Before he could put his hands on the man’s shoulders to get him off of him, he’s been pulled away and smacked into the wall in front of him.

Kimhan is shorter than the nameless man but he manages to lift him from the collar of his shirt. Porchay is still trying to catch his breath to make any sense of what’s happening at the moment. He cannot see Kim’s face but he can see the grip on the green shirt, he can see his messy hair and his muscles through his silky shirt and Chay doesn’t know what he’s feeling right now.

“What the fuck, man?” he struggles but can’t break apart Kim’s grip, “this won’t look good on you if I go online to tell everyone about it.”

“And you making out with a minor, does?” the man open his eyes wide and looks at Chay in surprise.

Kimhan drops him to the floor and gets up going back to the club.

“I’m an adult,” Porchay says under his breath.

Yes, he did want the man off of him, but that doesn’t mean he wanted Kim’s help, much less if he was going to act like Porchay is a defenseless kid that has no idea where he is.

“Huh,” he scuffs, “Yeah, barely.” He laughs, dusting off his hands as if they got dirty from touching that man, “does Porsche know you’re here?”

He turns around and Chay wants to smack himself in the head for gasping. Kimhan looks gorgeous all shiny from the light coat of sweat on his face, his red lips, and his hair all over the place.  Porchay can see his silhouette under his clothes and he wants totouch. But he swallows to keep his mouth busy and doesn’t spit out gibberish.

“You’re just like Hia,” Chay accuses and Kimhan frowns, “but you’re not my brother, so leave me alone!”

For the first time since he has met Kim, he’s scared. The way he’s looking at him, the way he’s approaching him, Porchay wants to step back but his back already touches the wall. When his hands cover the whole of the back of his neck, lifting his head to look at him, Chay feels a shiver run down his spine and suddenly, all of his body is warm.

“What are you doing here, huh?” he asks, his thumb pulling his abused lower lips. “Are you trying to make me lose my mind?”

Porchay frowns because he doesn’t understand.How could he possibly do that?But he does the only thing he can do when Kim gets so close that their chests touch. He shakes his head as he squirms between Kim and the wall but he doesn’t move an inch.

Then, Kimhan’s glance changes, the anger slowly leaves turning into something else, and if Porchay didn’t know better, he would’ve thought it was longing. But his grip loses enough to caress his cheek and Chay’s heart starts beating too fast for him to catch up, so his brain doesn’t register what comes out of his mouth.

“You were amazing up there,” is a whisper and it’s delivered right on Kim’s lips making him smirk.

Of course, he knows he is.

“Yeah?” he smiles, “Did you like it?”

Porchay nods fervently, biting his lips and Kim rests his head on his shoulders letting out a quivering sigh.

“I didn’t know,” he says shivering when he feels Kimhan’s breath over his neck, his jawline, his lips. “You were WIK.” Chay closes his eyes the moment Kim hugs his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Did you know about WIK?” Kim asks and his lips finally touch his cheek. Porchay shakes his head and grabs Kim’s silky shirt into his fist. “Which was your favorite song, Chay?”

“The first one,” he answers and maybe he’s dreaming just like all the other nights he has found himself dreaming about Kimhan. Perhaps none of this is real and he has free will to do as he pleases.

Kim stops the butterfly kisses all over his face and Chay opens his eyes, he doesn’t realize he’s pouting until Kimhan chuckles and pulls his lips apart with his thumb.

“And why is that,baby?”

Porchay whimpers and they both freeze before Kimhan gives up completely, grabbing Chay’s head and bringing it closer until their lips collide. Porchay opens his mouth and welcomes all of Kim in, he intertwines his fingers in his hair and pulls. Kim’s hands are warm on his back and Porchay leans closer craving everything that Kimhan allows him to have.

It’s embarrassing the way he’s behaving right now, he’s all crying and messy, pulling clothes and hair but wanting Kim closer, he whimpers and squirms and calls his name when Kimhan starts kissing his neck and his shoulders. Porchay feels small and soft even when Kim is not that much taller than him. He grabs his face and pulls him closer to kiss again.

“Oh, shit.” But then, he hears Macau’s voice and pushes him away with every bit of force he has left in his body.

“This is not what you think,” Porchay rushes to say, all swallowed lips and shaky hands.

“This is exactly what you think,” Kimhan says beside him, hoarse voice and deathly stare. “Now get the fuck lost.”

And Macau reconsiders but the screen of his phone lights up and a worried look takes over his face, he turns his phone to Chay.

“P’Porsche has been calling me for the last forty minutes,” Chay feels his heart sinking. “He called P’Pete because you weren’t answering and he went to look for us in my room.”

Porchay holds his breath. “We’re fucked.” Macau nods taking Chay’s wrists and pulling him but they’re stopped by Kim.

“Wait,” he breathes out, his eyes looking at every corner of Porchay’s face.

Chay smiles at him, softly, secretly before pulling him in for a last kiss.

“Later,” he says and then he lets Macau drag him out of the club.

[jjmaybvnk]

JJ had been avoidant ever since his father had moved to Alexandria. For the first few days, everything had been fine. Luke had claimed he was clean, full of the usual empty promises, and that he simply wanted a safe haven to reconnect with his son. JJ, as always, had fallen into a false sense of faith and belief, wanting it to be true. But as soon as Luke had found out about the adoption, that Aunt Maya had taken JJ in as her own, all hell had broken loose. The man had returned straight to alcohol, the violent behaviours and false blame quickly coinciding along with it.  He’d missed school the last several days, ignoring his friends every time they’d shown up to check on him. Teachers also called up about the absence, but it was all too easy for JJ to lie, having done it countless times before. He was sick, that was his excuse. Considering he was flighty on the best of days, the faculty hadn't dug much deeper into it. He'd managed to avoid dealing with it, thus far. But sooner or later, his hunger won out, and with his father passed out on the couch, he’d have to make the trip to the grocery store himself.  He intended to avoid being spotted, not wanting to deal with the emotional toll a confrontation would cause, knowing the bruises and his disappearance would ring alarm bells for his friends, if no one else. But it was the middle of the day, the store was busy, so even as he grabbed his bag, JJ suspected the possibility of a quick in and out operation being successful was unlikely. He needed to be reassured it was wrong, he needed an out. But he wasn't ready for the conversation that came along with that, to be so openly vulnerable, even in the face of his chosen family. He wasn't ready for his father to face repercussions he himself would be blamed for. He wanted to wait it out until Luke left on his own, as he always inevitably did. That way, if he ever returned, it wouldn't repeat the cycle again. Perhaps he really would get clean, next time. Perhaps JJ wouldn't have to get hurt again. They had no chance at fixing their broken relationship if it was exposed to intervention. As predicted, he was spotted almost instantly, his pulled up hoodie doing nothing to cover the purple markings under his eye. JJ stood opposite a very concerned face, trying to avoid thinking too much about their worried expression, or his own dismissive response. He needed to play it off, but it was hard to seem sincere when his stomach was aching with emptiness, and his body was slumped with exhaustion. “What, this? Nah, man. It’s fine. It’s just my dad, y’know? He can really snap his right jab off at times. It’s nothin’. We were just fuckin' around and it went too far. Seriously, it's fine.” 

[dukeswonderousmenagerie]

More angst <3

hello lil buddy angst ye shall receive

what if the final breaking point for Lupin is accidentally hitting Jigen with the bullet that almost killed the maid

TW for mentions of accidental drug overdose

The day Lupin freaks out, the final shot that makes him snap is when he fires the gun and it misses the maid because it hits Jigen.

Nothing super dangerous but that's not the point. It freaks them both out to their cores. Jigen because Lupin so casually pulled the trigger and Lupin…the same.

Lupin snaps and runs because he's starting to spiral in on himself. Jigen gives chase. Lupin rolls him off the hood of the SSK as he flees and before the Grandfather can say anything more, Jigen claws his way up from the dirt and snatches at the keys in his hand. The grandfather holds them back and is about to tell him to get patched up but now Jigen snaps partially.

He draws the magnum and takes the keys silently and burns rubber, nearly hitting Fujiko and Goemon on his way out to follow Lupin.

Despite his faulty state of mind And despite everything that happened Maybe this entire thing was Lupin’s version of some fucked up bucket list.

The final straw in everything was him hurting Jigen. He knew then that everything was not the same as it once was. And maybe it was his declining mental faculties, but maybe after that incident was when he realizes that maybe it was time to go.

But Lupin is Lupin, he wants to go out on his own terms, whatever they may be. He doesn’t want a cop to end his life, he doesn’t want any of that. He doesn’t wanna run into the middle of enemy territory and tell them to “do with him as they please”.

No no, he wants to go out how he wants to go. But he’s not being flashy now. He’s being quiet. He waltzes the streets of Paris like a ghost in waiting, doing odd things and generally just being the civilian and he realizes sadly that while it is fun to just be a normal guy. . .it’s still not a life he wishes for, no matter how much he enjoys it.

But he’s happy he’s in Paris, because that quick mental bucket list consists of visiting all the places he once frequented when he was younger and as a young adult. He runs into friends he hasn’t seen in years. People he’s burnt bridges with who he now wants too apologize too before he does what he intends too.

He gets drunk sometime into it, which melds time and space and the variable in betweens together and he forgets for while where he’s actually going and why. He almost gets caught by the gang a few times but each time he slips away and the chase starts anew.

Towards the final act he hooks up with an old flame he hasn’t seen in years. A sweet woman who even now he’s upset by how things ended between them.

He hooks up with her, intends on having a good night. But on accident, he drinks again but he also pops a few pills cause he’s hurting, he doesn’t realize what he’s done and ODing wasn’t part of how he wanted to go out. But maybe it’s the euphoria that coincides with the taking that keeps him from questioning it or even noticing, or maybe he’s just so out of it he doesn’t realize.

ODing wasn’t part of the plan, it wasn’t suppose to end like this. But when they go to her place, a lil shack outside of Paris, he doesn’t care. But no matter how much he tries, he can’t do it. He touches her, but there’s no euphoria in it. It’s stale and foolhardy and he can’t even get it up.

Because she’s not who he wants.

who he wants he can’t see, because he hurt them

why would that person want to see him. All he can do is deliriously call for his mother, a woman he’s never met or seen in his life.

The woman goes down stairs for a few moments to give him some space to sort himself out, but too also call for help. But when she does leave he locks the door leading to the upstairs room.

He hobbles to the bathroom, sick to his stomach. And stares at himself in the mirror.

Only to put his hand through it.

It all goes black after that. He feels floaty, there’s no pain. But he must have woken up, least he suspects he has because there’s a bright light infront of his eyes

And a familiar shadow.

Maybe he is dreaming

Why would this shadow want to see him after what he did.

Maybe he is dreaming, and if this is the end, not how he wanted to go but somehow someone was kind enough to grant him what he realizes is his final wish, he might as well take it.

He’s not sure if this shadow is real, he’s not sure if it exists cause it’s voice is like a speaker in water. Muffled and garbled, unearthly. But that doesn’t stop him from raising his arm and stroking the bottom of its jaw.

And he apologizes. And he drags it down. And he kisses it. And it tastes how he remembers the original too.

is it real?

But there’s no time to think on it. Cause the shadow is getting darker, and he doesn’t have the strength in his arm to hold onto it, so it slides away. And the shadow talks to him

why is it frantic

what does it see

But the shadow grows, but he doesn’t care. It might not be real, but it’s the one thing he wanted before he went. So that’s alright.

He’ll take it.

[unrivalling]

15, 16, 29

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters.

Pure vibes usually. I also usually either come up with them before I even start writing the fic ("I can write something where XYZ happens and I could call it 'The Devil's Bargain'") or I come up with it literally as I'm posting the fic to Ao3 ("Oh shit, this needs a title and a summary.") I also try to make my fic titles recognizeable, but sometimes if I think of one that's REALLY good, I'll save it for possible use someday for my original projects.

16. At what point do you come up with titles?

Oh no I did NOT read ahead. See answer for 15.

29. Bit cut from a fic, or a fic idea I don't plan on getting to.

So, I never say never, but I ran into a block with this TWST fic I started because I decided that the main character probably wouldn't survive the scenario I put him in and it was TOO bleak (even for I).

The makeshift holding cell on Night Raven College grounds was plain but comfortable. It was near the faculty quarters, one of the rooms that visiting lecturers often stayed in while on sabbatical. There was a bed, a wool blanket, a simple vanity, and some generic decor on the wall that left Vil wondering if the headmage purchased it all on clearance from some hotel supplier.

All the better that he sat for hours with the lights off, fighting a truly vicious migraine as flashes of his memory rose to the surface before falling away again along with waves of nausea, waiting for someone to come tell him what was real and what wasn’t.

That someone, eventually, was Dire Crowley.

He explained what had happened in plain, staccato language. Vil had overblotted at the SDC. Neige Leblanche, Jamil Viper, Deuce Spade, and—Rook Hunt, had all been recovered from the scene.

Always a bad actor and a worse liar, Headmage Crowley paused briefly before the name he’d saved for last, like he thought that would be the thing to send Vil into grief and hysterics. But it was all terrible, regardless of how close he’d been with one of the victims. All the headmage did was confirm that the horrifying images in Vil’s head were real, that he’d be living with them the rest of his life.

Which likely wouldn’t be very long, anyway.

“We don’t have much time,” Crowley said, once he’d reached the end. “The magic enforcement officers will be here soon, and I have no choice but to turn you over to them.”

He watched Vil for some sign that he understood, and Vil gave a curt nod.

“Most don’t come back from the state you were in,” Crowley continued. “But mages have been held accountable for their actions while overblotted. Say nothing to the officers.” He paused, and his mouth turned down in sympathy. “You may want to get a very good lawyer.”

A tremor of cold humiliation ran from Vil’s head to his stomach. He wanted to bite back at Crowley for patronizing him, for assuming Vil didn’t understand how much trouble he was in.

He felt himself freeze over and stare ahead, back straight, chin upright. There was no telling what he was doing with his eyes. When he spoke, it was with a forced, clear voice, like he was rehearsing.

“I have no desire to hide from the consequences of my actions.”

Crowley’s mouth opened, in shock, or like he wanted to say something. Then he closed it, turned his head downwards.

“You say that now, but things are fresh. There may yet be a way out.” As if relenting to some internal battle Vil couldn’t see, Crowley rose from his seat and turned to leave. “For what it’s worth—”

“It’s not,” Vil snapped, and the venom in his voice made him feel sick and ugly.

“I don’t think people are entirely responsible for what happens during an overblot, or just before.”

“Who broke my overblot?” Vil asked. Questions of right or wrong didn’t matter to him. He knew who was to blame, even if by some miracle the justice system decided otherwise.

Dire Crowley watched him warily, his expression otherwise unreadable on the other side of his bird’s skull mask. “I don’t know,” he answered. “And if I did, I’m not sure it would be wise to tell you in this state.”

“When you find out who it was, tell them in no uncertain terms that they should have just let me die.” Vil noticed rather than felt the surety in his voice, the way his cold hands trembled where they hung limp in front of his knees. “It would have been kinder.”

Dire Crowley watched him for a while over the ridge of his raven feather cowl.

“You say that with such conviction, Mr. Shoenheit, but I can’t help but notice your hands are shaking.”

[solariswrites]

Reckless

Reckless. Reckless. Reckless. 

Phayu’s replacement word for stupid. Instead of instilling determination and anger what Rain was feeling in the moment was pure disappointment and frankly resentment. He was confident that if Sky was in this seat right now there wouldn’t be a lack of trust going on. Just fear that Sky was pulling away from him. Rain? No he gets the distrust and belittling like he isn’t a grown ass adult in a relationship with these three men. He loathes his feelings right now which makes it worse. All he did was go with Aye, Thua, Kan, and Rain’s new friend, Zain. 

He knew it was going to be an adjustment for him, Sky, and Phayu when he changed majors; Prapai had been the most supportive of him switching to the Arts to focus on his writing degree. And to Rain, Prapai was the only one being supportive now because this was getting ridiculous. He had a right to spend time with his friends from his new faculty and old childhood friends too. They’d come here to get inspiration for their own projects and had accidently gotten stuck with Kan’s suv then walked back just as the storm started to roll in their direction. Akk had taken the other three as Rain had assured Zain that it was fine to leave with a brooding Phayu, annoyed Sky, and their ever peacemaker Prapai.

“This was beyond reckless. You should have called us before leaving town. This is what happens when you hang around Ayan and Zain. You do reckless things like this. Going out in the middle of nowhere with no cell reception and a trail till you hit the main road…” Phayu’s words cut through Rain’s thoughts and he’d had enough. He didn’t give two shits that they were stopping at the stop sign in the blistering rainstorm. He wasn’t going to sit here and take anymore of this criticism for another second. 

“Yu…” Prapai started but Rain cut in. It hit him the silence coming from Sky and Prapai as Phayu had scolded him. They agreed with him. 

“And what P’Phayu? Wait for my busy boyfriends to decide for me if it’s alright to take a day trip with a group of friends that wasn't even supposed to take half the day? When without hesitation all three of you just drop whatever you want to do into our calendar? Do you know how hard it is to plan something or do something with you all when you do that to me? I take one day, hell not even a day; I take one lousy couple of hours… ” Rain angrily spat back, reaching for the door. “I don’t know what I’ve done to make you think I’ve consented to being treated like a fucking child but I haven’t. I deserve the same trust and respect as you clearly give each other.” 

“Rain!” Sky struggled to stop him from getting out just as much as Prapai. Phayu was stunned for a moment before he rolled the window partially down. 

“Get back in the car!” Phayu ordered over the heavy downpour, not that Rain was listening. He just flipped him off and started walking his way towards the village so that he could stay at another hotel. He sure as hell wasn’t staying with them. 

Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around him but the self defense classes he took since the incident with Stop allowed him to easily twist and shove the owner of said arms away. He glared at Phayu as soon as their gazes locked. 

“Don’t touch me! Venus!” Rain yelled, Sky and Prapai joined Phayu across from him. Their eyes wide that he still wasn’t budging on letting them near him. “I am not getting back in that car. You all say you love me but this isn’t how you show it. Trust goes both ways. I am so sick and tired of having to prove myself.” 

“You don’t have to, but we need you to get back in the car. It’s…” 

“Reckless right?”

“No, Darling, not safe! I just want us all safe. So please get into the car.” Phayu tried to get the younger man to listen to him.

“Baby that’s not what we meant.” Prapai tried to apologize as he shared a look with his partners. 

“Yes it is! I said venus P’Pai!” Rain quickly dodged Prapai’s hand. He knew it was instinctual because of how Prapai was tactile. But it still felt like they weren’t listening. That he hadn’t earned a voice. 

“We do trust you Rain, we were just scared!” Sky gave back and the look in his eyes let him know that this was true for Sky. 

“Of what? What happened before with that asshole repeating? Well it’s not going to happen again…” Rain found himself trying to console him  but shook his head, “No, you refuse to actually believe me that I can take care of myself. I retook the classes and I checked in a lot.” Rain snapped as he flailed his hands. “But it’ll never be enough will it? No matter what I do I’ll just get to watch you three thrive off each other till you tire of me just standing there.” 

“You’re not standing still.” Phayu cut in, “And we do tru-“

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel.” Rain argued, “especially when I cause you to turn into this jealous monster!” Those words earned a sudden shiver to go down his spine at the look Phayu gave him. He for sure thought that the man was going to start chiding him for his language. 

“You don’t get to tell us either. But yes, I’m jealous. But it’s not because I don’t trust you, darling, it’s because I loathe that Zain gets to spend all this time with you that used to be ours. I love you…We love you, Rain, and if you need us to stand out here in this storm all night to tell you all the reasons why we do, then we will.” Phayu argued right back and like that it was like all three of them despite the storm were on the same page. The focus on him was a bit overwhelming.

He was about to respond when Sky spoke first, “I’ve always loved your determination. It’s beautiful, wild, and unique to you.” Sky slowly reached out to Rain. Just as carefully, Rain felt like he could handle them coming closer. When he did, Sky lifted their joined hands to press a kiss to Rain’s knuckles. 

“You’re my buttercup.” Prapai stepped closer next, his hand reaching up to cup Rain’s cheek. His thumb rubbing softly over rain soaked skin, “Our love is different and so open despite all the bites the world has taken. Your bravery and willingness to adapt are just some of the reasons I love you, buttercup.” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Rain’s forehead then he stepped back to let Phayu come closer. 

“Verbena?” Phayu asked, knowing it was his fault the fight had sparked anyways. Rain nodded and this time they stepped towards each other. Phayu cupping Rain’s face gently. “I love that you trust me with all of you and that you inspire me to be a better lover to us. You’re amazing and so beautiful, darling.” He leaned, pressing the softest kiss to Rain’s lips. When Phayu went to pull back Rain, gripped the now soaked through v-neck to keep him from moving away as he chased the kiss. This one thought carried a different feel as they poured their apologies and love for one another into the kiss. 

“Oi! You were supposed to kiss his cheek, you jerk! Jealous and greedy is more like it. Where is ours?” Prapai’s voice pulled them from their moment. 

“How about we have this conversation in the car?” Sky shivered as Rain laughed, resting his forehead on Phayu’s shoulder. He didn’t need to look to know that Phayu was sending Prapai a look. 

“Okay.” Rain agreed. He reached out for Sky, the two of them squeezing their hands before Sky headed inside. 

“Well I am not going till I get my kiss.” Prapai continued to tease. Rain wiggled his fingers towards the older man to draw him into a kiss. Those dark eyes beamed as he stepped closer, kissing Rain softly. 

“Now you have one. Let’s get back in the car and to the hotel before we all get sick.” Phayu guided them back to the jeep. Prapai wrapped his arm around the other side of Rain as they walked then stole the younger man into the backseat where they could cuddle until they got to the hotel. 

Read More of my works on AO3 for LITA

[jangantakut]

Hi eL...

Last night I dreamed of you. Usually even in a dreams, I'm afraid to approach you, or even call your name. Last night, maybe because of the unstoppable feeling of longing, I followed you when you finished shaking hands with....who knows who. Far away I followed from behind. Usually you never look back. Last night, you turned around, stopped, and waited for me to get to you. Unfortunately, when I arrived in front of you, I could only remain silent.

Then the dream story balloon changes to another scene.

In that other scene, we're already chatting. Wow, after all this time, I finally feel like when we were on the 5th floor of your faculty.

Long ago, we believed in one thing. When we are separated, and when one of us is present in a dream, we definitely not fine. Whether you or me have a problem, harbor a longing, sick, or just want to say hello. I still believe in our way of communicating, El. I hope you're fine.

Thank you for coming to my dream last night. You, are still the best one who ever happenes in my 6th floor period.