#I honestly don't know what else to tag this as.... um...

[chibifox2002]

His Last Moments...

(Hey, I felt like drawing Daisy B again! Lmao!)

[faeryton]

thinkin abt omori specifically from an ocd perspective. in the final boss fight, omori is constantly, literally every turn, accusing sunny and harassing him and threatening him etc etc etc. on my most recent playthrough, it honestly shocked me how similar he sounded to my own intrusive thoughts. and even after all that sunny's done, you, the player, know: omori is wrong. sunny made a mistake. then he made another, and another and another and another until they piled up so much he couldn't bear to leave the house, and when he was home, he couldn't bear to leave his mind. even after all that: sunny still, absolutely, deserves to live. his friends love him. his friends care about him. his friends forgave him. his friends want him there, alive, talking to them, and if he can't talk then they'd be okay with him staying with them and if he can't stay then they'd be okay just knowing... he's alive.

[satorella]

“𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥” [𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍]

You caught 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫’𝐬 attention at a soccer conference in Japan about a year ago, where you were hired to take pictures for the sports magazine you worked for. At first, it was just him being his usual arrogant and cocky self when he randomly gave you VIP tickets just because.

“Oh… uh… d-danke, Herr Kaiser…” [Thank you, Mr. Kaiser] You gave him a polite smile. He tilted his head, “Ah, you speak German?” “Just a little… enough for a tourist to get by.” You answered. He nodded and smirked, “Cheer for me, ja?” [Yes?] He pointed at the tickets in your hand as he turned to walk away. “Ja…” You gave an awkward little wave.

Neither of you had any idea where this would eventually lead though…

A couple days later, you woke up with your head throbbing, and Kaiser sleeping soundly next to you... naked under the sheets. You looked around, realizing you were in his hotel room, and both of your clothes were thrown carelessly all over the place; on the sofa, on the counter, the floor, your panties were even hanging on the damn lamp. Then it all started to come back to you. What was supposed to just be a few innocent glasses of champagne at the afterparty of his game, turned into a bit more… obviously. Once you came to, you slowly slipped out of his bed, searched for your clothes, and quietly left his room.

Fuuuuuck, did you really have a one night stand with Michael Kaiser?!?!

After a couple hours, you opened your suite door to...

“Guten Tag, Schöne.” [Good day, beautiful.] Shit. “Herr Kaiser... hi... h-how’d you, um, know which room I was in?” You asked, looking both ways down the hallway. “I asked your little freund.” [Friend.] He waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway you left your, ah, kamera in my room. I figured you might want it back for work.” He hands you your camera. “Oh! Danke!” You take the device. He looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I looked through some of the photos. I hope you don't mind.” He finally says before leaning down to your ear, “I enjoyed seeing the ones from last night as well.” He whispers, making a shiver run down your spine. Pictures? From last night? The hell is this guy talking about? Confusion and curiosity etched on your face, you turned your camera on and clicked through the recent photos...

You, your colleagues, Kaiser and his team taking shots.

You and Kaiser pouring each other shots.

You sitting on Kaiser's lap.

You, and what looks like, grinding on Kaiser.

You, completely blissed out, taking a selfie with Kaiser kissing your neck.

You taking a picture with Kaiser in the elevator door’s reflection; he stood behind you with his hands on your hips... while he was busy with your neck.

Kaiser leading you into his hotel room.

You, in Kaiser’s POV… sitting naked on the counter, eyes low and head thrown back as you laughed. (You honestly looked great in this pic… if it weren’t for you being naked😵‍💫)

Kaiser... taking body shots off you...

A mirror selfie with Kaiser positioned behind you... holding one of your legs up on the vanity... while he-

ALRIGHT, you got the point! You quickly shut off the camera and looked at anywhere else but him. He smirked, seeing how shy you suddenly got. “I-I’ll, uh, delete these… don’t worry...” You cleared your throat. “Just because you get rid of the evidence of our fuck-fest, doesn't mean I’ll let you forget it.” He shamelessly looks you up and down, “Are you free to do it again tonight?” You scoffed. The nerve of this guy!? “I-I’m not some bootycall, you perv! Du bist so ein perverser!” [You are such a pervert!] You whisper-yelled. He laughed at your attempt to insult him in his own language. “Really? But from what I can remember, all you could say was ‘Micha! So gut! Bitte! Bitte mehr!’ hm?” [So good! Please! Please more!] All the color drained from your face. “Okay. Guten Tag, und Auf Wiedersehen.” [Good day, and goodbye.] You tried to close the door in his face, but he stopped it with one hand, “Nein. Wait.” [No. Wait.]

…And that’s how your love story all began. Annoying way to meet the love of your life, right? Agh! Aber du hast trotzdem gelernt, ihn zu lieben. 💆‍♀️ [Agh! But you still learned to love him.]

Ever since that day, he subconsciously started talking to you more and seeing you more at soccer conferences; country to country. You were the only foreigner that could actually understand him and have a decent conversation with him in his native tongue. (Not to mention, you kept each other company at night.) At games, he would casually search the crowd for your familiar pretty face, knowing you’d be there; rocking his jersey, waving and screaming his name. You showed up for him at every game, wherever it was. Even though he was still kind of an ass, your constant presence started to make him feel… something. Something he’s always wanted, but would never allow.

Kaiser wasn’t one to catch feelings. He’d usually cut out anything that would distract him from his goals. Nor does he really have that many friends due to his arrogant and rude personality. Sure, he has his team, but ehh. Then there was the thing going on with you. He actually didn’t mind having you around. You weren’t clingy and annoying like most women were. And he enjoyed the sex, of course. But after a while, he started to notice that things between you started to become something a little more than just sex. Even just talking to you became part of his daily routine. You guys met up to have breakfast/lunch/dinner together if you were in the same city, and FaceTimed if you weren’t. There were times where he just craved to hear your sweet voice after a gruesome day of practice. Craved to hear your stupid jokes that weren’t even funny, but it was really your laugh that he wanted to hear when he was having some depressing late night thoughts. God only knows why you still stick around. He’s insufferable half of the time, but here you were… choosing to deal with his bullshit.

All of it.

With time, you started to become the support system, the companionship, the patience, and the love he’s always wanted, needed, but was too prideful and damaged to ever ask for. You understood him. You were always there for him. And for once in his lonely life, he didn’t feel so alone anymore.

Currently, you and Kaiser were in his hotel room, massaging his scalp as he laid his head in your lap. You came to surprise him at one of his home games in his home country, Germany, after telling him just a few days ago that you wouldn’t be able to make it.

“I could have flown you out here, meine Schönheit. Tsk.” [My beauty.] He lightly scolds you. “But that would’ve ruined the surprise, ja?” You smiled. “Tsk.” He grabbed your wrist and moved your hand to his neck, “Here. Massage me here.” He demanded. “So sassy, mein Schatz.” [My darling.] You chuckled, but did as he said, massaging over his blue rose tattoo. He closed his eyes. “Your touch, it’s relaxing, meine Liebe.” [My love.] He said, which was a little unusual. He was being sweet and focusing on you, rather than bragging about how his team wouldn’t have won without him; which was what he usually did after a win. You leaned down to press a kiss on his forehead as a reply. You weren’t sure how to respond to that… without saying the wrong thing and risking ruining his good mood. He opened his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips as he looked up at you. He pulled your head back down, capturing your lips in a kiss. After a moment, he pulled away and caressed your cheek. “Ich liebe dich, Engel.” [I love you, Angel.] He said quietly, which was another rare occasion with Kaiser where he actually used his words to express his feelings. “And I love you.” You smiled, hovering your lips over his, “Are you okay?” “Ah, meine Liebe. I’m alright, just… tired from playing.” He said as he reached up to move a few strands of your hair behind your ear. His bright blue eyes were scanning your face, watching every expression and detail. “I’m glad you’re here...” He ran his thumb over your cheek, “I can always count on you.” He sat up and pulled you on top of him, his hands moving to rest on your hips as you straddled him.

“Michael!” You gasped as you felt his semi-hard poking the inside of your thigh. “I thought you said you were tired?” “I said tired from playing, mein Liebling. Not in other activities.” You playfully rolled your eyes. Ah, now you understand why he’s being so lovey dovey… he’s horny! He chuckled in his rough German accent as his hands began to roam your body. “I missed you these last few weeks.” “Ja, I can see that… or I mean, feel it.” You snickered. “Ah, mein Engel. Du bist so wunderschöne.” [My Angel. You are so beautiful.] He praised you as he gave your jawline soft kisses. He grunted a little when he felt your lower half grind against him, causing him to squeeze the plush fat of your ass under your denim skirt. He wanted to be gentle, but that’s proving to be quite difficult for him right now. He needed you. “Mein Engel, bitte. Lass mich dich lieben.” [My Angel, please. Let me love you.] He pleaded quietly as his hands continued to roam your body, slowly lifting his jersey off of you. “Ich will dich.” [I want you.] You let the jersey fall to the ground, tilting your head to the side as he kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear, making you throb at your core.

Kaiser turned, laying you down on the sofa and positioning himself in between your legs. “Ich liebe dich.” [I love you.] He murmured as his lips began to trail down your neck, down your chest. He took one breast in his mouth, and sucked on your hardened nub. You let out a whimper, arching into him, practically smooshing your chest in his face. His tattooed hand journeyed down your body. “So Schöne.” [So beautiful.] He hissed, pushing your legs open wider for him to have more room. He wasted no time in bunching your skirt up and pulling your panties to the side, dragging a finger up your slit, collecting your slick. His finger began tracing circles around your entrance before slowly pushing it inside you. “Ah, du bist so feucht für mich…” [You are so wet for me…] “Hnngh!” You moaned, nails digging into the sofa. “Komm für mich. Be the good girl I know you are.” [Come for me.] He murmured against your skin, lightly nipping you in random places. He inserted another finger in you, pumping at a slow, but good, pace and curling them both slightly to rub that sweet spot that always had you seeing stars. “M-Micha!” You whined, writhing beneath him. “Let yourself go on my fingers…” He said, his voice low and raspy. And like the good girl you were for him, you did as he said. As always. You shut your eyes as you came on his long, thick fingers; panting and moaning his name. He grabbed your chin during the middle of it with his free hand and forced you to face him. “Look at me.” He demands. Your eyes fluttered open, trying to stop them from rolling back from pure ecstasy. “That’s it. There’s my girl.” He lets you ride out your high, before slowly pulling his fingers out of you and licking them clean.

He reached between you to pull the knot on his robe loose, and lets it fall on the floor next to the jersey, then positions himself at your entrance. “Ich brauche dich...” [I need you...] He whispers as he pushes into you, letting out a deep groan and grunting. “Gott, du bist so eng.” [God, you’re so tight.] You let out a louder moan at the stretch, your nails digging even more into the sofa. He slowly slid out almost all the way before thrusting back in deeper. Harder.

“So gut...” [So good...]

Fuck, maybe you two should spend time apart more often.

© 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Join my tag list!📋

(𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒌 discord server👯‍♀️)

Note: It’s implied that all characters in this oneshot are of drinking age!🍻

[crystalflygeo]

Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Omega!Dragoness!Reader

cw/tags: Your usual mentions of slavery and sexual themes, A/B/O dynamics and heat mentions. Also allusions to depression and mentions of death.

notes: Aahahaha this took forever..... allow me top explain: first of all my new job is killing me and second of all I'm going through a hard period where I don't really like anything I write anymore. This work in particularly I kept struggling with the pacing, the dialogues, the way I wanted feelings to come across or scenes to flow it's just hhhnnnggg. I told a couple of friends that I set the bar so high with the first part I feel like nothing else I write will be that good. Then the second part was "ok" but cut off in a cliffhanger and has been there for SO LONG that now I feel this will be underwhelming after all the buildup//hit

I hope it's not. I hope it's good.

Anyway this part is in Zhongli's pov and contains flashbacks which will be fully in italics! Enjoy! and thanks for caring so much about this story ;w; ILU all <3

<- Part 2.

Your instincts mess up with your head.

Your crying and anxiety have simmered to a cold numbness.

Hours blur together, time loses meaning.

The doctor comes by sometimes. The maids bring you food. But everything feels… off, distant.

This doesn’t feel… like your usual heats.

You curl up and sob, a choked soft noise.

You don’t feel hot, but rather cold. Limbs weak. Dizzy.

Your heart aches.

You’re so tired.

And so sleepy…

Zhongli puts down the seal stamp and deflates back into his chair with a sigh, he must have read the same line at least five times already. He cannot concentrate at all. It’s not even been three days and each hour, each minute, feels eternal.

He’s already gotten so used to your presence, so smitten with you and your little quirks, your rare smiles, the way your ears and tail flicker, your pretty eyes…

And he remembers those same eyes begging for him, teary. Your pitiful cry. Your distressed scent.

Guilt eats at him. As well as something else…

He’s been restless, barely slept. Your scent is a siren’s song on the blankets, tart and fresh and tantalizing, but you are not with him. Anxious energy flows in his veins. This emotion, this thing that is like regret and sorrow and fear all tangled together, cleaves him through. His instincts are screaming at him, rattling inside a cage of his own making. His mate, his precious Omega is in heat, you’re scared and lonely and need him. Zhongli has to suppress a growl and feel the shudder of his scales at the fact that he’s not with you. In your nest. Taking care of you.

It’s agonizing.

"How is she?"

The same question, over and over, at any chance he gets.

"She refuses to eat, your majesty." Xiao tells him, and he can feel the concern in the younger Alpha’s voice. “According to the maids she only took a few bites of the ajilenak nuts, the rest of the food was left untouched.”

…

"She's um... she's always sleeping when I go check up on her." Ganyu explains a little crestfallen. She too is worried. “A-at least I think she’s in no pain… she was clinging to one of your hanfus.”

…

"You should go see her, Zhongli." Ping states, a rare serious expression on her usual gentle factions. “Baizhu says she’s going through the worst case of separation sickness he’s ever seen. Is that really what you want your poor Yin to go through?”

He lets out a frustrated rumble.

“Of course not. But it’s for the best, I don’t want to… take advantage of her, or force her to anything.” Zhongli frowns, trying to focus on the papers in front of him again, in an attempt to ignore her piercing gaze.

“Is it really any of that if she wants her mate?” Ping retorts. “She was begging you.”

I know.

He growls this time, and shakes his head at his memory of you. It haunts him.

“She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“So, you’re deciding for her then? Is that it? Honestly, are you listening to yourse-”

“She’s been conditioned to serve.” He cuts her off, voice grave and somber. “Trained to be submissive and please. She likes me simply because I’m kind to her, she wants me because she thinks it’s her obligation as my mate. I feel the pull of the bond too, the need, the yearning. But I also know she is afraid of Alphas and she thinks… she thinks she has to obey me. That she owes me something or that own her.” His eyes narrow. “I didn’t need to bond her. I shouldn’t have bonded her. I just… wanted her to be free and instead I chained her to me. And now she’s in heat…”

And it drives him insane.

“Listen to me, we’ve both spent time with her, enough to know she’s opening up and learning to voice her feelings…” Ping reasons gently. “It’s a slow process, don’t hurt her this way. At the very least… go see her.”

“I lost control once with just one kiss from her. I will not do it again. I will not harm her any further.”

The elderly woman keeps silent for a few moments. Zhongli sighs and rests his forehead in his palm in defeat.

And then Ganyu approaches, a little tense, a stack of papers in her hands.

“Your majesty, the Qixing are starting to arrive, council meeting will begin soon.”

“Very well. Thank you Ganyu.” He stands up and nods at her, then turns to Ping and his demeanor softens a little. “You know I just want to correct my mistakes, and give her the life she deserves. At least a fraction of it, of happiness.”

It wasn’t supposed to go this way… Zhongli sighed as he walked up to the room where the “reunion” with the sumerian would take place. It was long overdue seeing as he had spent the night by your side, refusing to leave after you had cried and begged so desperately…

After he had bonded you.

He had initially taken the eremite’s claims with a grain of salt, but naturally he had to make sure. The last dragonblood had supposedly died decades ago, so how…?

And yet when he saw you for the first time in that room, he knew.

You were real, you were beautiful. Suddenly he felt a million things at once: He wanted to get to know you, stay close to you, protect you. Old draconic instinct vibrating excitedly on his soul. You smelled vaguely familiar, your tail was gorgeous, your ears adorable. What if you didn’t like him though? What if he harmed you? Scared you? Suddenly he was nervous, nervous of ruining this, nervous in a way he hadn’t been in so long, like when he’d been young and Liyue had been at war and he had lost everything to fire and smoke and dust and he had to make difficult decisions and-

He had always calculated his moves. No room for risks. Too much at stake.

But you, you disarmed him. Completely.

You, with your polite gentleness despite the obvious cracks beneath the surface.

You, with your beautiful looks and enormous potential, even if you didn’t see it yourself.

You, with that look of yearning and hope, with your soft lips and sweet moans, with your warm body fitting perfectly against his.

For once, he allowed himself to make a decision with his heart, not logic, not politics. Just instincts.

And he claimed you…

…

He enters the room. A couple Millelith soldiers stationed by the door, Xiao standing by his side loyally as he sits at his place of honor as the emperor. Your ‘master’, an Alpha eremite named Zaheer, kneels respectfully a little below.

“I see you liked her, your majesty” He offers a sly smirk. “Did she satisfy you properly? She’s been trained on her gag reflexes to-”

Zhongli -Morax- resists the urge to growl. “We are not here to discuss that.”

“Ah, of course, business!”

Business.

“Since she’s such an exotic and well-trained slave I suppose we could agree on…”

“Do you think of me an idiot, Zaheer?” Morax’s eyes narrow.

“P-Pardon me?”

“She is a pureblood xiānshòu. I want to know exactly how she ended up being enslaved by you and your people.”

Cold and calculating golden eyes stare down at the eremite.

“W-What… she’s desert-born!” Zaheer retorts back angrily “She was born at a heat house. Maybe she has traits from your people because one of them decided to get a cheap fuck while traveling.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Morax asks unfazed “Liyue has records of the last of her kind disappearing and presumably being murdered when a village near Sumeru borders was razed to the ground. Do you have a disclosure?”

Zaheer stands up and growls, clearly an Alpha not used to having to bow his head and accept things not going his way.

Clearly an Alpha used to intimidating and attacking others.

Xiao wields his spear and changes his stance to an offensive one. The Millelith guards also tense.

Zaheer gets even more irritated, feeling like a caged animal. Backed into a corner. “Emperor or not” He starts through gritted teeth. “If you’re not going to pay me then I’ll take my merchandise back and do business elsewhere where I’m not being accused of ridiculous claims.”

“You’re right that I won’t be doing any business with you, but we’ll see how ridiculous those claims truly are. Zaheer, by my word as the emperor you will now remain detained in Liyue.” Morax sentences.

The eremite’s red eyes widen in shock and rage and the desert-dweller shoots up to attack Morax, getting easily overpowered and neutralized by Xiao’s quick moves. In seconds his weapon drops to the floor as the Yaksha general points his spear at the unconscious man. The Millelith quickly retrieve him and the blade before Morax simply nods at them.

Months. It had been months since then and he had to begrudgingly release the man as no accusation connected him to anything. They were essentially out of leads. There did appear to be documentation of your birth at a desert village but Zhongli would be hard pressed to believe the half-assed story you’ve been told…

And since you are pureblood, then both of your parents, and most importantly your dam, was also a dragonblood. That’s at the very least one Liyue citizen enslaved in a foreign nation.

He would get to the bottom of this.

For now, however, he had to cast those worries aside.

The Seven members of the council sit around the large table, the Liyue Qixing, leaders of all the commerce and trade sectors of the nation.

Zhongli takes his place at the head of the table. Ganyu does so as well by the sideline.

“Very well, what’s our first topic today?”

“Did Master just… leave?”

There was silence at the table, Zhongli and Ping sit frozen and you get just a bit nervous.

It’d been a few days since you started your new life, and though Zhongli was sure you were warming up to it he knew you still had a long way to go. It was probably still a little surreal for you… such a big change from everything you knew.

The tension on his shoulders quickly drops again. He continues eating. “Yes.” He says simply. Ping follows his lead, saying nothing.

The faster you forget about that eremite, the better.

“Hm…” You continue eating as well. Your expression is a little conflicted…

You inhale.

“Was he… happy… that I finally found a mate?”

Zhongli turns to you sharply and tenses again like a cat bristling. He holds back his tongue so as to not say something he’d regret. Why do you still care about that despicable man’s opinion? Why do you still seek his approval? Did you really think he cared about you? Zhongli desperately wants to make you understand how that slave-owner only saw you as an object, how he fed you lies, how his mistreatment is inexcusable…

But he can only imagine how deep your scars run, and how that toxic mindset has settled and accompanied you for years. He cannot judge you for caring about someone who doesn’t deserve it.

“Why do you ask, dear?” Ping asks instead.

“I don’t know…” You mumble, poking at the congee with your spoon. “I always wanted to make him proud.”

Proud.

Him?

“I think what matters most is how you feel.” Zhongli says, his hand reaching out for yours invitingly and you place your fingers on his palm, getting a soft reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to rely on how others view you or think about you.”

You seem thoughtful for a second, your ears flickering back insecure but then standing up alert again. “I am happy” You admit. “Very happy. I have the best mate in the world.” You smile brightly.

Zhongli’s heart does a flip.

“With the excessive rains in the northern villages, there have been many floods and a lot of crops have been severely damaged or lost. Our previous contingency plan is in action already and donations are being sent to help the affected families. However, we must prepare for a decline in the harvest of certain grains and vegetables this season, as well as an increase in prices for a few months due to the shift in demand and supply.” Keqing explains expertly, the young alpha’s expression is serious and solemn.

“It’s an opportunity to strengthen commerce with Mondstadt and Sumeru.” Ningguang chimes in, leaning back on her chair, arms crossed. “The value of jade and other crystals is on the rise as well.”

“Not to mention, we’ll be employing several architects from the Akademiya to help with the rebuilding.” Keqing adds, turning to Ganyu, who nods.

“Greater lord Rukkhadevata and lesser Lord Kusanali have agreed on a certain exchange program with Liyue. I started drafting up some proposals already if you’d like to see.” The blue-haired secretary passes along some documents.

Ningguang’s eyes skim along the page. “It’s almost like our new Sumeru-born empress was a sign.” She smirks. “By the way, where is she?” She turns to Zhongli, curious about her fellow Omega.

“She’s rather indisposed at the moment.” The emperor replies dryly, not wanting to delve much onto the touchy subject. “Ganyu this looks good, however we need to think about-”

There is a knock that quickly surprises everyone. Who could interrupt a council meeting and why?

Baizhu peeks in with Changsheng curled around his neck, a frown on his usually gentle features. “Your majesty, a word. It’s an emergency.”

All the members at the table stare silently as Zhongli stands and follows the doctor.

Ganyu has a bad feeling…

“We have no time, follow me.” The green-haired doctor walks briskly along the wooden corridors, he looks… frustrated, dejected.

“What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t want to panic. He never panics. But something inside him does. It’s obvious that this has to do with you. 

“I apologize, your majesty. I thought it was just a case of separation sickness but… the empress is showing signs of widow’s wasting.”

Zhongli stops.

His heart skips a beat. His skin prickles with dread.

“She’s… dying?”

Baizhu shakes his head. “It hasn’t reached that point yet, but… she’s deteriorating.”

The guilt is back. The fear.

“Given what happened, I’m pretty certain the shock of your rejection was the trigger. Still, it is highly unusual for a Yin to suffer from widow’s wasting without their partner actually dying, even more so for it to settle so quickly. Her reaction is akin to someone who had never left their mate’s side for years.” Baizhu explains.

You trusted him.

And he turned his back on you.

What have I done?

“In any casssse, it’ssss not too late.” Changsheng’s little voice pipes in. Baizhu keeps leading the way and Zhongli follows, though he obviously knows the entire palace like the palm of his hand, at the moment his thoughts are scattered and far far away.

“She needs her mate’s reassurance. I have done what I can with medicine but this is a bonded pair matter.” Finally, he stops at a juncture and turns to Zhongli. “Please, your majesty, only you can save her. I will tell Ganyu, Xiao and Ping of the situation, and if you need anything, just ask.”

Zhongli nods, mute.

The snake narrows her eyes. “Don’t leave her sssside.”

“Changsheng.” Baizhu shushes.

She is right to chastise him. He deserves that and more.

“I won’t.” Zhongli nods and heads down the hall.

Widow’s wasting.

The words echo in his head. He’s seen the damage it can do. How a broken bond, the loss of the most important person, can destroy someone inside. Did you really care that much about him? Did he really hurt you that badly?

“Please…”

He didn’t mean to.

“I have the best mate in the world.”

He feels like a monster.

“I want to stay with you. Sleep together. Like mates.”

He needs to see you. He needs to make sure you’re ok…

He stands in front of the nest room. The same one where he first met you.

Opening the doors only slightly to slip inside, Zhongli's eyes widen and a hand flies to cover his nose and mouth when a strong smell shakes him to his very core.

The room he expected to be completely saturated with intense heat pheromones… instead bears the acrid scent of despair.

This isn’t the lustful call to breed and have children that made an omega vulnerable and pliant. No. It is a desperate cry from a heartbroken omega for their mate to come back, to stay with them, to love and protect them. It is grief.

You are suffering because of him.

To think all this time… he was afraid he'd make you uncomfortable. That he’d scare you, hurt you, ruin the bond you’ve carefully built. Instead, he is overcome by an all-consuming terror. Every part of him screaming at his mate's weak essence.

And there you are, his precious treasure, his sweet dragoness.

You lay curling in on yourself letting out small muffled sobs.

“Y/n…” 

No reaction.

“Darling, my dear dragoness…” He rushes up to you immediately, grabs your hand and pets your hair. You look so weak, your skin is feverish, how has it only been three days? It feels like a lifetime…

You shift a little and your eyes blink open, staring at him dazed, red and puffy and your expression defeated. You let out a pitiful whine and more of that bitter sad scent is released. 

“No my dear, don’t cry, I’m here. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Zhongli coos as he curls up to you, frantically starting to scent and nip at your neck and shoulders affectionately. His horns manifest and his tail follows through, lashing about a little restless. The bond… feels wrong, broken. He should be able to intimately feel you this close and yet…

He tries to reposition you a little so you can lie on top of him, rest on his chest. It’s concerning how easily he can do so, you’re like a ragdoll in his arms, unresponsive and unmoving. His hands cup your face, thumbs rubbing at the traces of tears in your cheeks. You let out a frustrated whimper. “Shhhh shh it’s okay. I’m so sorry.”

Even if he says it a million times, it won’t feel enough.

Zhongli nuzzles at your neck and proceeds to do something he hasn’t done since he was practically a teen. He purrs. It’s a little rusty, comes off more as a grumbling but it seems to work as he feels you relax just slightly in his arms.

“I’m right here” Zhongli’s deep voice assures you, tugging you closer, mouthing at the soft skin along your collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m all yours, I promise, I promise. I won’t leave you alone, not ever.” He soothes.

He lowers a bit of your clothes at the shoulder and grazes his fangs along your faded mark, you tense and let out a long shaky breath.

“Everything will be ok.” He kisses the spot. “I’m sorry.”

And then he sinks his fangs in to reestablish the claim.

You cry out in pain and squirm, clawing at his clothes, but he holds you, his hand rubbing circles at your back, his tail intertwining with yours.

...

.....

...

At first nothing changes, but after a few moments… a low strained purr bubbles up from within you again.

[xmads-omensx]

Whenever you get around to it, no rush but just had the idea. Matt not believing you're hitting on him cause he's used to everyone wanting someone in the actual band so he can't believe you're hitting on him for real instead of to try and get closer to the band

I love you. Again zero rush

Pairing: Matt Dierkes X Reader

CW: mentions of shitty past relationships / flirting, mentions of being used (vague)

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @thisbicc @collidewiththesav @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @dsireland86 @dominuslunae @rumoured-whispers @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @kissestomyomens @athenexe @oobleoob @astronoids @geminigirlfromfinland

The rush of people leaving the venue had died down as you waited for your taxi to come and pick you up.

The street was dark and quiet until one of the doors at the back of the venue opened and what looked like the crew began to exit, carrying equiptment.

The unmistakable, tall form of Noah Sebastian carrying a case of some sort in your eyeline brought you to the slightly shorter man he was talking to.

You knew him instantly.

Matt Dierkes.

You had always thought that he was cute, but never in a million years did you think that you would have the courage to speak to him.

But there you were, freezing your ass off waiting for your taxi when he happened to make eye contact with him.

"I like your shirt." You complimented the attractive man with a smile.

He scoffed. "Yeah, sure you do."

"No, really. The design is super cool." You went on. "I actually saw Whitechapel like a year ago. One of the best shows I've seen in forever."

"Oh yeah?" He replied, clearly surprised by the fact that you enjoyed that kind of music, but he still had a sceptical look on his face.

"Yeah. Are you a big fan of theirs?" You asked.

"I'd say so. You?" He replied.

"Kinda." You replied honestly. "I'm a newer fan I guess."

"Oh cool." He responded, seemingly relaxing into the conversation. "What else are you into then?"

"Honestly, a bit of everything. Big Bring Me The Horizon fan, I love Lorna Shore, Motionless In White too." You answered. "However I am a sucker for Sabrina Carpenter."

He laughed at that.

"Yeah Espresso goes hard in the pit." He joked, making you laugh. "I'm Matt by the way." He stuck his hand out for you to shake.

"Y/N." You replied with a smile as you shook his hand.

"I'm so sorry I have no idea why I made you shake my hand." He laughed, his cheeks turning red as he broke into a small smile, looking at his feet.

"You don't seem too used to flirting, Matt." You teased.

"Well, usually people don't show an interest in the stuff I like so... you're a welcome surprise." He smiled.

"Oh?" You asked.

"Well, I work for Bad Omens, so usually people only hit on me if they wanna get closer to the band." Matt sighed.

"That's shitty." You replied, making him laugh. "What they use you to get to Noah or Nicholas or something?"

He tensed slightly as you mentioned you knew the band. "Yeah."

"For what it's worth, I think you're a lot cuter than them." You smiled, making him look back up at you.

"Really?" He seemed genuinely shocked by that.

"Yeah." You smiled back at him.

"Can I uh... can I get your number?" He asked timidly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yeah um... fuck my phone is dead." You muttered.

"So's mine. Shit." He sighed, clearly frustrated by technology failing you both.

Then, another voice entered the conversation.

"Do you know your number?" The new voice asked.

You looked up to see Noah Sebastian looking down at you, sharpie in hand. You nodded, unable to find the words as one of your favourite singers spoke to you.

He simply smiled and handed you the sharpie before pulling Matt's arm forwards.

Your hand seemed to move on autopilot as you shakily wrote your phone number on Matt's arm.

You smiled up at him and he smiled back before being dragged away back to the crew by Noah.

As your taxi arrived, you could hear the rest of the guys making fun of Matt for flirting with you.

It made you smile.

[prettycalla]

|| when i run ||

Pairing: Michael/Reader

Summary: Michael can't help his jealousy at the thought of you with someone else, even though he's convinced you have no interest in him. How wrong he is.

Word count: 7.3k

Tags and warnings: Angst with a happy ending, smut (unprotected PiV - it's fiction, please be safe IRL), jealousy, brief mentions of smoking and alcohol, unrequited love (but not really), love confessions, Michael's POV, reader is she/her, no use of Y/N. 18+!! Minors, please do not interact!!

(For the three people who read my bin man fics, I present to you...whatever this is. It was supposed to be 2k at most, and well, here we are. Feel like I'm really baring my soul on tumblr dot com with this one. Title is from Soft Universe by AURORA - it's a Michael song, trust me on this.)

Michael Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || Taglist

Tick, tick, tick.

It's just gone eight o'clock. Michael's standing in the kitchen, clearing up the dishes. He's on the verge of taking the clock off the kitchen wall and chucking it in the bin, if he's quite honest.

It's not the clock that's bothering him. Not really.

It's you.

You'd said you were going out tonight. To meet a few friends you hadn't seen in a while.

"Just a couple at the local, nothing crazy or anything," you'd told him while you were having dinner on the settee.

You'd asked if he wanted to come with you.

He'd almost choked on his mouthful of pasta then, trying to get the word no out before he could stop himself.

"Nah, s'alright," he'd said, eyes watering. "I'm wiped from work, I wouldn't be any fun."

"Well, I always think you're fun," you'd told him, in that casual way of yours that always left him feeling as if he'd been hung out to dry.

You'd headed for your room soon after to get ready, and now here he is, bent over the sink and scrubbing the plate in his hand so hard, he's on the verge of taking the bloody pattern off it.

She was just being nice, he thinks to himself for the hundredth time.

You're a sweet girl, of course you wouldn't want him sitting on his own on a Friday night.

Still, he can't help himself from wanting there to be more to it than that. The plate starts to creak in his grip.

You don't take as long as you normally do to get ready, and he's grateful for that. He needs you out of the flat, and soon.

He hears you before he sees you - those ridiculous shoes you always wore going out were a dead giveaway. He busies himself with the drying, opening the cupboard door closest to his head and stacking the plates up inside. He tries to take as long as he can, but it's not exactly a hard job, and he knows he has to face you at some point.

He closes the cupboard to find you standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Fuck," he hisses under his breath.

He can see you trying to bite back the smile threatening to spread across your face.

"Sorry," you say, clearly not very sorry at all. "Did I scare you?"

"Uh, yeah," he forces himself to reply, a little too slow on the uptake.

He's lying. You hadn't scared him at all. He just hadn't expected you to be dressed like that.

Normally you don't make too much of a fuss over your appearance, especially when you're just sitting around the flat. Didn’t make sense to waste time if you weren’t going anywhere, you’d say. Michael’s secretly grateful for it, because honestly you’re getting hard enough to live with as it is.

But now…Christ. He’s got half a mind to tell you to cover yourself up, purely for the sake of his own sanity.

He's staring. He knows he's staring.

“Um, Michael?” you ask, not quite meeting his eye.

And now you've clearly caught him at it. He tries to snap himself out of it.

“Yeah?” he asks, too quickly.

He clears his throat.

"What's up?" he tries again.

It's not much better.

“I was wondering if you could, um…” you start to say, a little awkwardly.

Michael's hanging on to your every word. He hates himself for it.

A breath of a laugh escapes you as you turn around.

“Tell me honestly, is this too short?” you ask, your hands self-consciously pulling at the hem of your skirt.

He's never needed a cigarette more in his life than he does right now. You're gonna be the fucking death of him, you really are.

He lets his eyes flick down once and back up, barely looking. He can't trust himself.

“Nah, s’fine,” he says, forcing his voice to sound flat.

He hopes to God he sounds disinterested.

“Oh…okay. Great,” you reply. “Thanks.”

You sound a little off, but maybe that’s what he wants to think. He wants you to be upset that he didn’t try and take advantage of the situation, and Christ, he feels like a dickhead for even thinking that.

You look as though you're about to say something, when a car horn sounds from outside, startling you both.

"Oh, cab's here," you say, fixing the strap of your bag on your shoulder. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me, okay?"

You lean in to press a quick kiss to his cheek before you turn to leave, and it takes everything in Michael to stop himself from grabbing you and pulling you into his arms. He can smell your perfume, the one he'd bought you for your birthday last year, after your prick of an ex hadn't bothered his ass.

His heart hurts.

“Yeah, ‘course. You have fun, yeah?” he calls after you.

He’s trying so hard to sound like a friend, and not like a man who’s hopelessly in love with the girl he shares a flat with.

He knows he's failing big time.

You wave at him with a smile before you go. It’s only when the door closes behind you that Michael finally lets himself relax, slumping against the kitchen counter with his head in his hands.

“This is so fuckin' stupid,” he mutters to himself, letting out a long, tired sigh.

He never meant for this to happen. He's so angry with himself.

You'd only known each other a little under a year, but it had felt like forever. He'd met you through a friend of a friend, while he was between houses. He hadn't exactly been sold on the idea of moving in with a stranger, but beggars can't be choosers, right? He needed somewhere to go, and a bed was a bed. He thought it'd be a temporary thing; with the two of you working different hours and that, he figured you'd be like passing ships in the night.

But then you were you. You'd leave him something to eat in the fridge before he left for work in the mornings. You'd do his washing for him the odd time when it'd completely slipped his mind.

It wasn't fair. Why'd you have to be so nice?

All he had to do was find a place to live and not fall for the person he was living with. Easy, right?

"Can't fuckin' do anything right, can I?" he says to the empty room.

He tries to push you to the back of his mind for the rest of the night. Really, he does.

He manages to last the best part of an hour before his leg starts shaking.

It wouldn't be weird if he went, would it? You'd invited him. Yeah, but you were clearly just being nice. And showing up now would look weird. Why didn't he go with you? He's gonna stick out like a sore thumb if he shows up by himself. He should go. Nah, what's the point?

He sits like this for longer than he'd like to admit, one thought after another after another wearing him down.

Tick, tick, tick.

The little clock on the mantlepiece feels like it's mocking him.

You're running out of time, is what it sounds like it's saying.

He's about ready to toss every fucking clock in the flat out at this point.

With a heavy sigh, he gets up. He's antsy and he hates it, like his skin's crawling with agitation. He pulls his jacket from the back of the settee and throws it on, heading for the door.

He doesn't know where he's going, but he knows he can't stay here all night. He already feels like he's losing the bloody plot after an hour.

A walk wouldn't do him any harm. It'll take his mind off things for a bit. Would probably do him the world of good right now.

He hasn't been paying attention to where he's been going, and it eventually hits him that he's heading in the direction of the pub. He thinks about turning around and heading back, but he's here now. Might as well go the whole way.

As usual, the place is packed for a Saturday night. Mostly students trying to shake off the stress of exams for the weekend by drinking themselves stupid. A hen do is in full swing near the back, and some of the girls are already looking a bit worse for wear before they've even really started.

Michael cranes his neck, looking for you over the crowd in front of him. He recognises one of your friends sat in one of the booths, so you must be-

And then he spots you. Standing at the bar with some bastard's arm around you. You're laughing, cheeks already a little flushed.

He feels his stomach drop as his jaw clenches. He makes himself leave before he ends up doing something that'll get him lifted. The last thing he needs is to spend a night in a cell.

God, he feels so stupid. He knew you had no interest in him, knew he was barking up the wrong tree, but why does it still feel like you were leading him on? Like you're cheating on him? Like he'd convinced himself that just maybe there might be a chance you two could-

He's a fucking idiot. He should've known better. Of course you were just being nice to him. There was nothing there between the two of you. And there never would be.

He's home before he realises, and it takes every last bit of willpower he has not to slam the front door and let the panes of glass smash in the aftermath.

He goes into the kitchen, pulling a beer from the fridge and knocking most of it back without even thinking about what he's doing. He needs to take the edge off, before he does something he'll regret. He promised himself he wouldn't put his fist through any more walls, and he's kept that promise the entire time he's been here.

He forces himself into the living room, hoping the alcohol will take the edge off. But it's just him and his thoughts.

And that fucking clock.

He tries to breathe, to calm himself, but all he can think about is you.

You, smiling like that with some dickhead's arm around you.

It should have been him. It should be him.

He sits there for God knows how long, seething. Deep down, he knows he's in the wrong, but he's just so angry.

Are you gonna make him wait up all night for you? Or are you gonna go home with your new boy?

He knows he shouldn't, but he keeps thinking. Pictures you, falling into bed with some stranger, his hands all over you like you're a piece of fucking meat.

He shuts his eyes tight, gritting his teeth.

It's a while before the front door finally creaks open. You're trying to be quiet, he can tell; even when he hears your shoes clatter to the ground as you take them off, one soft thump, then another.

He hopes you'll just go to bed. He can't be around you right now.

“I didn’t think you’d still be up,” comes your soft voice from the doorway.

He can’t have anything go his way, can he?

“Yeah, well. Couldn’t sleep,” he replies, unable to keep the bite out of his tone.

“Did you stay up because of me?” you ask worriedly. “Oh, Michael, I’m sorry. I know I said it wouldn’t get messy, but…”

You trail off. He laughs at that, too loud in the quiet room.

“Always does get messy, doesn’t it?” he says, picking at the label of the beer bottle in his hand.

You laugh softly, completely unaware of what he's getting at.

“Missed you tonight,” you say shyly.

He hears you hum under your breath, the little one you make sometimes when you smile at him.

God, he wants to scream.

He turns to finally look at you. There it is, that little smile he knew would be waiting for him. Another fucking kick to the stomach.

“Yeah?” he asks, and then it’s all falling out of his mouth before he can stop it. “Because I sure as hell didn’t miss you.”

You laugh awkwardly, clearly caught off-guard.

“What? Michael-"

“Save it, yeah?” he says, cutting you off as he stands up. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

He tries to move past you, but you stand firm in the doorway, glaring at him.

“No,” you reply resolutely, digging your fingers into the doorframe. “You’re gonna tell me what the hell is going on with you.”

Michael laughs, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

“Nah, there’s nothin’ goin’ on with me, sweetheart,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Never is, is there?”

You let go of the doorframe, pressing your hands against his chest. He makes the mistake of meeting your gaze. Your eyes are watering.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Michael,” you say softly, your voice trembling slightly. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it.”

You don’t even know what you’re apologising for. Somehow that just makes him angrier.

"Just don't, alright? Let me out," he says, trying desperately not to think about the warmth radiating from your hands through his shirt.

You shake your head. "No. I'm not moving until you talk to me," you reply, your voice small but firm.

Michael feels as if he's on the verge of tears himself. He can't do this. He needs out of here. He just wants to run. Keep running and never look back.

"Michael, please," you whisper in a trembling voice.

Something in him is about to snap.

“I did go down to the pub earlier,” he says through clenched teeth. “Saw you standing with some bloke at the bar. Didn’t realise you were that kinda bird, but who am I to judge, ey?”

You frown at him in confusion.

"Where the fuck is this coming from?" you snap at him.

"Let me out," Michael insists, taking your wrists in his hands to move you away from him.

You pull yourself free and shove him back in your anger. He's caught off-guard and he stumbles, falling into the armchair behind him. He looks up at you as you stand over him, your expression furious.

"How dare you," you say, your voice shaking for an entirely different reason now. "What gives you the right to talk to me like that?"

Michael doesn't move. He's took it too far, he knows he has.

"You have no right, no right at all, to talk to me like you own me," you continue, hands shaking with temper. "Not that it's any of your fucking business, but that "bloke" you saw me with? That was my cousin. Now unless you want to start accusing me of something else, I want an apology."

Well. He's only gone and royally fucked everything up now, hasn't he?

"Look-" he starts, but you look as though you're about ready to murder him, and he thinks better of it.

"Last I checked, there's no fucking ring on this finger," you tell him, holding your hand up. "Not that I'd let you speak to me like that even if we were married. We're friends, Michael, or at least I thought we were."

Michael doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He's never seen you this angry before. He just stares at you.

You put your hands on your hips, refusing to back down.

"You'd better explain yourself, or I swear to God, you can sleep on the street tonight," you say lowly.

He knows you mean it. He lets his legs drop from the arm of the chair, managing to get to his feet to stand in front of you. You don't move an inch, still glaring at him expectantly.

"I'm...I'm sorry," he says softly. "Really, I am. I-"

He reaches out to you, but then thinks better of it, letting his arms fall back to his sides with a sigh.

"I was- When I saw you, I got angry," he admits, unable to look you in the eye.

"Angry?" you repeat. "What are you talking about?"

Michael gestures vaguely. "When I saw you and your-"

He sighs, realising how stupid he sounds.

"Your cousin," he finishes weakly.

He looks up at you then. Your expression has softened a little; instead of anger, it's mostly confusion.

"Why were you angry?" you ask.

"Because I- Isn't it fuckin' obvious?" he asks, wincing as his temper gets the better of him again.

"Is what obvious?" you shoot back in frustration. "You keep saying things like I should just know what they mean!"

Michael's about to ask you if you're really that thick, when he thinks better of it. He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth instead.

But then you push him too far.

"Why were you angry?" you insist.

"Are you joking?" he asks in disbelief.

"Does it fucking look like I'm joking?!" you ask, temper flaring right back up again. "I don't get you, Michael! I get one night to do something fun this week, one night, and then I have to come home to this! I should be asleep right now, and yet here I am, having this fucking argument with you!"

Michael presses the heels of his hands to his eyes in frustration.

"I was jealous!" he snaps through clenched teeth. "Alright? Are you happy now?"

"Jealous of what?" you persist. "What the fuck do you have to be jealous of?"

"When I saw you- I just- I wanted to be the one to-"

He can't get his words right. He sounds like an idiot. He knows he does.

"Whenever you dumped your ex, I thought maybe I had a chance to- But I didn't. I knew you needed a friend, so that's what I was. It near killed me to help you pick up the pieces after him."

“So, what?" you ask exasperatedly. "You were being nice in the hopes of sleeping with me? Is that it?”

“Don’t you dare,” Michael says, his tone low and dangerous. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Then what, Michael?!” you scream at him.

“Because I love you, alright?!” he shouts back.

Your eyes widen, and he keeps going before you can stop him.

Before he can stop himself.

“I love you,” he says again, his voice a little softer now. “I’ve loved you from near the day and hour I moved in here. You’re the nicest, kindest, most beautiful girl I've ever met. You drive me crazy, and I can’t keep pretendin’ like you don’t, alright?!”

You could hear a pin drop in the sudden silence that's fallen over the room. Michael's chest is heaving like he's run a fucking marathon.

You both stand there, just staring at each other.

Tick, tick, tick.

He's not sure which one of you moved first, but suddenly you're in his arms, your mouths crashing together. He's never wanted anything more in his life, and now he has it-

Your hands are in his hair, sliding down his back, tugging at his jacket like you're gonna die if you don't get his clothes off. Michael does his best to wriggle out of his coat without letting go of you, one arm, then the other, until it hits the ground. He vaguely hears his baccy tin fall out with a clatter, but right now, he couldn't give a shit about it. His arms are tight around your waist, and you moan into his mouth when he squeezes you closer.

Michael feels like his brain's short-circuiting. He's gotta be careful. He's wanted this for so long, thought about it enough times that he needs to go to fucking confession for it, and the way you're pushing yourself against him, he's afraid he's gonna go off like a firework if he's not careful.

He's not letting that happen. He can't ruin this.

He needs you. Needs to have you. Needs to feel you.

He manages to pull away from you, your foreheads pressed together as you both try to catch your breath.

"Bed?" he whispers in a shaky voice.

You immediately shake your head.

"No. Can't," you reply, so close he can feel your words against his lips. "Need you now."

Michael's pretty sure he's hit his head and is lying unconscious somewhere, because there is no way that you, sweet girl that you are, are looking at him right now like you want to eat him alive.

He swallows thickly, suddenly aware of how dry his throat is.

You smile up at him, placing your hands on his chest and giving him another shove, lighter than the first one, until he's falling back into the armchair.

He looks up at you, wide-eyed. He knows he must look a fucking mess right now, hair falling across his forehead from where you'd dragged your hands through it, shirt half-untucked and so hard in his jeans that it fucking hurts.

Before he can even think to say anything, you're climbing into his lap, your thighs pressing against his hips. It's a tight squeeze, with the size of the chair and all, but he couldn't give a fuck. If anything, it's not tight enough.

You're an honest-to-God vision as you are right now, eyes half-lidded as you look down at him, a smile pulling at your lips and your cheeks flushed. He's never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

You shift, pressing yourself down further into his lap, and he can't help the strangled moan that escapes him. His gaze dips down, and his mouth drops open. That fucking skirt, bane of his existence, has ridden most of the way up your thighs, and he can see your underwear.

You gently slap his chest and he jumps, looking up at you.

"Hey," you call softly, pretending to tell him off. "My eyes are up here."

Michael keeps his eyes on yours, but he can't stop his hands from wandering, dragging them across the length of your legs. His fingertips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and your breath hitches. He hesitates, still watching you.

Asking for permission.

"Don't you dare stop," you tell him.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'," he replies, and before you can say anything else, he's pressing two of his fingers against the fabric of your underwear.

His eyes widen when he feels the wet patch forming there.

"Fuck," he hisses, his other hand sliding up to grip your hip.

"Shut up," you gripe, but there's no real bite to it. "As if you're any better right now."

To prove your point, you drag your hand down his chest, to where he's clearly straining against his jeans. He jolts against your hand, and a breathless giggle escapes you.

"Think you're fuckin' funny, do you?" he mutters through clenched teeth.

His hand leaves your hip, reaching up to the back of your neck. He presses you down close to him, pulling you in for another bruising kiss.

You let out a gasp, and he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your hands are on either side of his face, cradling his jaw, fingers brushing against his stubble as you kiss him back.

Before he can second-guess himself, he's pushing your underwear out of the way, pressing his fingers against your skin. You let out a downright sinful moan, a full-body shiver running through you.

Michael can't help the laugh that escapes him. He nips your lower lip as he pulls away.

"Christ, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low rumble as he watches you, "You're fuckin' soaked."

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"D'you know, I think this is the quietest you've ever been," he says. "Is this all you needed?"

You look like you're about to try and argue with him, but a little moan falls from your lips instead, and that only spurs him on, his fingers still moving back and forth against you.

"Always thought you were the sweetest little thing, you know that?" he asks, a sly smile on his face. "But now? You're fuckin' filthy, darlin'."

He has no idea where this confidence is coming from, but he doesn't care. He'll do anything to keep you looking at him like that.

"Michael-" you manage to gasp out.

He doesn't let up, not for a second.

"Yeah?" he asks. "What is it?"

You shake your head, strands of hair falling loose across your face.

"C'mon, sweetheart, tell me," he insists softly. "Use your words."

He presses his fingers up into you just as he says that, and you just about manage to hold in a stifled sob.

"What's the matter?" he asks, tone patronising. "I thought you wanted to tell me something."

You manage to pull yourself back together just enough to glare at him.

"F-Fuck off," you stammer, your voice high and ragged.

God, if you aren't the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen in his life.

"You want me to stop?" he asks.

He slowly starts to pull away, and your hands are scrabbling to grab his wrist.

"Don't you fucking dare," you snarl at him.

"That's what I thought," he says, pushing right back in.

You lurch forward, planting your hands hard against his shoulders. Michael can't help the grin spreading across his face at the absolute state of you already.

"This- This isn't fair," you sigh, digging your nails into the fabric of his shirt.

"What isn't fair, love?" he asks, not at all missing how you're grinding down on his fingers.

He's hardly doing anything at this point. You're just using him to chase your own release. He can't say he minds at all.

Your fingers run down his shirt, awkwardly undoing the buttons as you go. Your hands are unsteady and you struggle with the last few.

"Oi," he laughs, as you yank the fabric out of the way.

You don't bother answering him, leaning in to kiss his collarbone. A gasp escapes him, as your teeth graze the sensitive skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, before he feels you suck what he knows will be a bruise tomorrow.

He feels your hands pulling at the button of his jeans, fumbling with the zipper. Your hand's slipping into his boxers, and he suddenly arches up into your touch, almost knocking you out of his lap altogether. He manages to steady you, even if he feels like the wind's been knocked out of him.

"You can give it, but you can't take it, huh," you say with a shaky laugh, as your hand drags up and down the length of his cock.

It's an awkward angle, and Michael's still trapped in his fucking jeans, but God, it feels better than anything he's ever had.

Because it's you.

"If you're gonna do it, do it properly, yeah?" Michael bites back, watching you through half-lidded eyes.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, and your eyes widen as you watch him put them in his mouth. His tongue drags over them slowly, licking them clean, his eyes on you the entire time.

You look like you want to say something, but nothing's coming out of that pretty mouth.

"Just cleanin' up your mess," Michael murmurs, trailing his still wet fingers down your thighs.

You breathe out an irritated sigh, grabbing the waistband of Michael's jeans and tugging them down as best you can. He does his best to help, lifting himself up as he holds you steady.

He thinks about suggesting going to bed again, but the look on your face immediately shuts him up before he even opens his mouth.

You plant one hand against the centre of his chest, fingers splayed to hold yourself upright, as your other hand wraps around his cock to line yourself up.

And then you're sinking down on him, and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach. You take him so easily, and he's never felt anything like it. No one he's been with before could ever hold a candle to you.

He already knows he's not gonna last long. His hands slide up your hips, giving them a quick squeeze, before running higher, up along your waist, stopping just at your ribcage. He's almost hesitant, as if he's not fucking inside you right now.

You must notice, because you place your hands over his, pressing them hard to your breasts. A long sigh falls from your lips, and that's it, he can't take any more of this. He thinks he's given you more than enough time to get comfortable.

His hands slide around to your shoulders, pushing you back down to him. His hips move then, and the noise you make-

He thinks it might be the prettiest thing he's ever heard.

It doesn't take long before he's losing his cool - or what little he had to begin with. His pace is rough and unsteady as he thrusts up into you. You give as good as he does, pushing yourself down onto him, again and again.

Michael takes your chin in his hand, eyes never leaving your face. He wants to remember this, all of it, how fucking beautiful you look right now.

"That's it, darlin'," he murmurs lowly, "You're doin' so good. So good for me."

A whimper escapes you at his words, and Christ, he's such a goner for you.

"Michael-" you manage to stutter out, never once letting up against him.

Your eyes are glazed over, eyebrows knit together as you chase your own release. Michael's not far behind you, he knows he's not.

"Yeah?" he asks. "You gettin' close?"

You nod frantically, and he lets go of your face to slide his hand back down between your thighs. You bite back a scream as his fingers rub circles against you.

"Come on, darlin', that's it," he says, pressing a kiss to your mouth, "Let go for me, yeah?"

Your head drops down to his chest, your breath hot as you pant against him. He can feel you getting close, you're squeezing him so tight.

You try to stammer something, but you're too far gone for words anymore.

You don't need to say anything. He gets the message, loud and clear.

"That's it, cum for me, darlin'," he whispers, his own voice wrecked now too, "Good girl."

You don't last much longer than that. With a sob, you fall over the edge, and Michael's really not all that far behind you. You're practically slumped against him, letting him use you to get himself off. You press sloppy kisses along his neck as he fucks into you, his pace completely erratic.

"Come on, Michael," you murmur in his ear, "Don't keep me waiting, I wanna feel you."

You squeeze him again, and fuck, he's done for, following you over that same edge. He holds you close to him, fingers digging into your skin, before he finally collapses, his chest heaving.

Both of you stay like that for a while, trying desperately to catch your breath. You're the first to recover, slowly sitting up. Michael watches you as you push your messy hair out of your face, and he can't help but smile.

"What?" you ask, and you suddenly look so shy.

He shakes his head. "Nothin'," he replies. "You're just really pretty."

You bite your lip, not quite able to look at him.

"You won't be saying that in a minute," you say. "I need to get up. My legs are dead."

Michael can't help it, he bursts out laughing. You lightly slap his chest.

"It's not funny, Michael," you scold. "And actually, since it's your fault, you're gonna help me."

"Suppose it's the least I can do," he says teasingly. "Come on, up you get."

He takes your hands in his, holding you steady as you lift yourself up. He hisses through his teeth as the sudden air hits his skin. He doesn't miss the tiny whimper that escapes you at the same time.

You manage to stumble to your feet, and his eyes immediately spot the mess dripping down your thighs. You tug at your lower lip with your teeth, not quite able to meet his gaze.

He rights himself, pulling his jeans back up before standing. You're suddenly so shy around each other now, and he laughs again.

"You better not be laughing at me," you say, prodding at his arm, but you're smiling too.

"Nah, wouldn't dream of it," he says sincerely. "It's just..."

He makes a vague gesture with his hand between the two of you.

"State of us, after what we just did, and now we can't even look at each other."

Your smile widens.

"It is a bit stupid, isn't it?" you agree.

You both fall silent again, but it feels a little more comfortable now.

"I should go get cleaned up," you say.

"I'll come with," he replies. "Since it's my fault and all."

You make your way to the bathroom, Michael not far behind you. You perch awkwardly on the edge of the bathtub, your legs pressed together. Michael finds a clean towel, running the water in the sink for a minute until it's warm enough. He turns back to you, dropping to his knees at your feet. He gently taps your knee, and you shyly open your legs, just enough to give him room.

"Thanks, darlin'," he murmurs, running the damp towel along the insides of your thighs.

It's weird how this feels so much more intimate than-

Heat prickles at the back of his neck.

"There," he sighs, more to himself.

He stands up, tossing the towel in the hamper by the door. Now that his hands are empty, he doesn't know what to do with them.

"Right, I'll, uh, I'll leave you to it, yeah?" he says awkwardly.

He could kick himself, he really could. He's never been good at this.

You reach out to take his hand in yours.

"Where do you think you're going?" you ask.

"Well, I thought-" he starts, before trailing off. "You know, you'd wanna get changed and that, so-"

"Oh, so fuck me senseless and then just leave me?" you ask, but you're smiling. "Aren't you a charmer."

Michael's eyes widen. You're just full of surprises, you really are.

You roll your eyes at him as you stand up, gently tugging him with you into your bedroom.

"D'you...D'you want me to stay?" he asks softly, as if it isn't obvious.

You sit down on your bed, pulling him down with you.

"Yes, I want you to," you tell him. "I really do."

"Yeah...Alright," he says quietly.

He sits there for a while, not sure what to do with himself. He can feel you looking at him, but he's scared to look back. Part of him still thinks he's dreaming all of this, and he's gonna wake up any minute in his own bed, alone.

Your voice cuts through the silence.

"I really like you, you know that?"

Michael doesn't say anything, doesn't dare open his mouth right now.

"When I dumped my ex, I didn't know what I was gonna do with myself. I mean, he was a dick, but the thought of being on my own again? That was terrifying."

He feels you shift on the bed next to him. He forces himself to look at you. You're watching him so intently, and it hurts.

"But there you were. You were so kind and patient and- You were everything I needed then. You could've took advantage of the state I was in. Christ, I'd have let you," you say with a nervous laugh. "But you didn't. You just stayed by my side, through all of it. Even when I was being a complete mare."

Michael huffs a laugh at that.

"You didn't have to. You could've just left me to it. But you didn't. And I guess-"

You falter, a shaky sigh escaping you as your eyes water.

"I guess I knew then. What I know now."

Michael holds his breath.

You don't mean...do you?

"I love you, Michael," you whisper, tears finally rolling down your cheeks. "I really, really do."

Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, and you meet him without an ounce of resistance in you. It's different now - that urgency's still there, but it's changed.

He never wants to let you go.

You fit perfectly against him. Like you were made for him.

It reminds him of that very first time. You'd been in the hallway, talking to your boyfriend on the phone. He'd tried not to listen, really he had, but the door was open, and your voice kept getting louder and louder. Then he'd heard you slamming the phone down on the table, and the bang of your bedroom door.

He'd waited a few minutes before going to check on you. You were sitting on your bed, in tears, with your face buried in your hands.

"What's happened?" he asked softly.

What's he done now? was what he'd wanted to say.

You shook your head, but you hadn't told him to leave, so he sat down next to you. He tentatively put his hand on your shoulder, and you'd thrown yourself at him, sobbing into his chest. He'd pulled you close to him then, gently shushing you as he rubbed your back.

It was then that it had really hit him. How he felt about you.

And now, here you both were. In the exact same place, but worlds apart.

Funny that.

"We should get some sleep," he hears you murmur against his shoulder.

Michael reluctantly loosens his hold on you, and you slip out of his arms to change into your pyjamas. He doesn't want to leave you, so he just strips down to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a tidy-ish heap on the floor.

You climb under the covers, holding out your hand. He takes it willingly, letting you pull him into bed with you.

He just lies there while you get yourself comfortable, laying your head against his chest as you pull his arm around you. He can feel his heart hammering so fast. He wonders if you can feel it too.

"I can hear you thinking," you say softly, your cheek slightly squashed against him.

"Sorry," he whispers.

You laugh softly.

"Get some sleep, alright?"

Michael just nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His head's racing, he's never been more awake in his life.

He feels you yawn against him, snuggling closer as you eventually drift off. He watches the headlights of the occasional car pass by silently across the ceiling, holding you close to him, before he finally feels himself nodding off as well.

When he wakes up the next day, you’re still fast asleep. You’re pressed into his chest, your hair a mess and the make-up you'd forgotten to take off now smudged. You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now. Without your guard up, without that little line you get on your forehead from worrying.

Just you.

He hopes to God he didn’t ruin everything last night. You’d said you’d wanted it, but what if it had been the drink talking, what if you’d just felt sorry for him, what if-

You groan softly in your sleep, interrupting his panicked train of thought. He looks down at you. You blearily blink up at him.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” you croak at him, a smile tugging at your lips.

“How you feelin’?” he asks.

“Like shit,” you say with a little laugh. “But knowing I didn’t dream last night is definitely helping.”

Michael’s heart stutters at that.

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Mm-hm,” you hum, your smile widening.

Michael’s face lights up at that, a grin spreading across his face as he scoops you into his arms, pressing a messy kiss to your cheek.

A yelp of laughter escapes you, and he thinks it’s the prettiest fucking sound he’s ever heard.

“Careful! I’m delicate,” you pretend to scold.

Michael pulls back to look at you.

“Yeah? And whose fault’s that, ey?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

You bite your lip, not quite able to meet his gaze.

“Yours, actually,” you say shyly.

It takes him a minute, and then the penny drops.

"Oh," he says in an outward breath. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I shoulda been more careful with you."

You shake your head. "You don't need to apologise. It was perfect."

"Yeah?" he asks.

He still can't believe any of this is happening. To him, of all people.

"Yeah," you murmur.

You trace your fingers gently along the chain dangling from his neck.

"I meant what I said last night, you know," you say. "Every word."

Michael can feel his face turning red. Always does around you.

"Me too," he replies. "Just, y'know, wish I coulda done it better than...all of that."

You laugh then.

"Alright, now I'm curious," you say. "How would you have done it, if you could do it again?"

Michael wipes a hand over his face, pushing loose strands of hair away from his forehead.

"Well, I..."

You've really put him on the spot now, haven't you?

"I guess I'd wanna do something nice for you. Like...dinner and that."

You give him an unimpressed look, as if to say "Really? Is that it?"

"You're a regular Prince Charming, aren't you?" you tease.

He pulls a face at you, embarrassed.

"Look, I never said I was good at any of this, y'know," he retorts, a little defensively.

You lightly run your hands up and down his arms - a little peace offering. He sighs.

"I'd wanna take you someplace nice," he says, making another attempt. "Give you an excuse to get all dolled up. Wear one of your dresses you're always moanin' don't see the light of day anymore."

You laugh at that, and he can't help but smile too. There's something so contagious about how you are. When you're happy, he's happy. Like a switch flicks in him when he sees you smile.

"Might even put a bit of effort in myself," he continues, and you raise your eyebrows in mild disbelief.

"What do you own that isn't the one shirt I know of?" you ask.

Michael shrugs. "I've got stuff."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you persist, lightly poking him in the chest.

He makes a big song and dance out of it, rubbing the spot like you'd actually hurt him. He takes your hand in his.

"Little daggers they are, I swear to God," he teases.

"Michael," you prod, knowing he's trying to distract you. "What other clothes do you own?"

"I've got a suit from my cousin's wedding a few years back, actually," he replies. "Still fits, I think."

Your eyes widen slightly.

"You own a suit? And you've never let me see it?" you ask.

Michael shrugs.

"Well, I'm hardly gonna wear it to do the bleedin' bins, now, am I?"

"I suppose you have a point," you say. "But you'd wear it...for me?"

"Yeah, 'course," he says. "Can't have my girl showin' me up."

It's a joke, but he sees your face change suddenly.

"What? What have I said?" he asks, nerves suddenly eating at him.

"'My girl'," you say softly.

Michael's face feels like it's on fire now.

"Well, yeah, I mean...if you want," he says weakly, his mouth dry.

"I do," you reply sincerely.

He smiles then, wide and so full of love, and he leans down to kiss you again. Not with the frantic energy of last night, but something far softer, gentler - as if he's afraid you'll slip right through his fingers if he's not careful.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back, as if you don't have a care in the world.

For once in his life, Michael doesn't either.

How could he? When he finally has you.

Taglist 💖: @glassbxttless @iitsmandii @getaapologist @robinbuckleywife @hikohyuuga

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-spooktober.

Bats in the Belfry

Prompt: Bats | Word Count: 2400 | Rating: T | POV: Steve | Pairing: Pre-Steddie | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4 Events, Eddie Died...Or Did He?, Eddie Munson: Bat Boy, Steve Harrington: Exasperated Human

There's a colony of bats that keep swarming the house. It's odd. They've never been there before, and now it's like they're drawn to him. Steve wonders if this is some sort of horrible side effect of his bat bites from the Upside Down. Maybe he's a bat whisperer now, but he can't be sure because they won't light anywhere long enough for him to actually interact with them.

Not that he really wants to interact with them. But if they are gonna keep roosting around the pool, he'd rather find out why.

It's not the first time he thinks that if Eddie were still here, then at least he'd have someone else to ask, to see if this is happening to him, too. But he's not, and Steve's had to come to terms with that. He failed. They lost one of their own. Yeah, Eddie was new to the group, and Steve didn't know him well, but Dustin is mourning his loss. Big time. 

They all are, in their own ways.

Steve is just handing over cash to pay for the pizza he's had delivered, when a bat flies in through the front door, and immediately clings to the ceiling, out of reach. Great, that's just what Steve needs. A bat in his house. Robin will really freak out if he can't get it out before bedtime. She'll be sure he's gonna get rabies if he goes to sleep with that thing in here, and undoubtedly gets bit by it. And honestly? He cannot get that awful round of shots around his belly button just to ease her mind. He can't.

He loves her, but that's not happening.

So, Steve finds the broom in the closet, and tries to usher the bat back outside without letting more in, but it's not at all interested in exiting. Instead flies right up the stairs, and as Steve gives chase, he sees it fly into his open bedroom.

Great. Just fantastic.

Now, it's just sitting on the edge of his headboard, staring back at him.

"Um, I think you're a little lost. The other bats are hanging out by the pool," Steve says. Which, fine. He can give up the pool. But he really can't give up his bedroom. 

The bat just tilts his little head, as if he's listening, but not taking initiative to get the fuck out of the house.

"You can't stay here, you have to leave," Steve says and goes and opens his bedroom window. "Out!"

Then the bat zips over, but not to leave. Of course not. Instead it perches on Steve's shoulder and Steve's first instinct is to knock it away and scream bloody murder. But he doesn't. He just tries to focus on the little eyes looking back at him. He's too close to really see it well, but Steve's trying.

Steve leans towards the open window, and shakes and shimmies, trying to force it to let go of his shirt, but the bat just leans in the opposite direction, towards Steve's neck. Wings tickling Steve's skin. The bat is clearly not leaving.

Then it starts squeaking and chirping, and batting its wings and Steve sees why. There are other bats flapping towards the open window.

Oh, hell no.

He slams it shut.

"Are they picking on you for some reason?" Steve asks, as if he'll get an answer. "It's not because you have rabies, right?"

The bat doesn't answer, of course, but kind of slaps him in the face with a wing, and Steve's gonna take that as a no. 

"I can't have a pet bat," Steve says, "that's weird, even for everything I've ever experienced."

Then, like it's offended, it's flapping its way into the closet, rooting around, as if it's looking for something, if that's possible.

Steve peeks in, and watches as it settles on Eddie's stained battle vest. 

Well, that seems fitting, somehow.

Steve pushes the other clothes around, giving the bat some room, and closes the door to the closet. Leaving it in darkness. They like that, don't they? He thinks so. Nocturnal and all that shit.

And at least it's trapped in the closet, and not flying around the room.

"Don't bite me. That's the only rule," Steve says through the closed door, and hopes it fucking listens if it somehow finds its way out overnight.

In the morning, Steve cracks open the door and peeks into the closet, and where the bat was last night, is something that's taken the shape of Eddie Munson right there on the floor, buck-ass naked.

Now, Steve screams.

And that wakes the Eddie-shaped thing up, making it jump. Steve is fucking freaked out, and he slams the closet door shut, and leans against it. Blocking whatever that thing is, inside. Steve needs help. He needs Robin, and Nancy, the kids. He needs everybody. He needs his bat, the nailed one, not whatever this thing is. 

But he can't get any of those things without leaving his post and possibly letting this thing loose.

"What are you?" Steve demands through the door he's trying to hold shut. Every monster he's faced has been, well, pretty straightforwardly monster-looking. Not human at all.

"I'm Kas the Betrayer! Kas the Destroyer! Kas the Bloody-Handed! The First Vampire!" it shouts, way too loud and over-dramatic. It sounds ridiculous.

"Really?" Steve asks. Because he's suspicious of these claims. All that? It's a little much. 

There's a chuckle behind the door, "No, of course not, Harrington. I'm the town freak, accused murderer," comes the voice that sounds exactly like Eddie. It sends a chill down Steve's spine.

And then he's mad.

"No, you're not! Eddie's dead!" Steve yells, because whatever it actually is, saying that, well, that's pissing him off. If Dustin sees this thing, he's gonna freak out.

"Really not, big boy," Eddie says, and that gives Steve pause.

It can't be. No way. 

"Eddie?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out," Eddie snarks, and Steve laughs. His heart is still pounding, but he loosens up, just a little. Maybe this is Eddie. Somehow. El's different and they've all accepted her, so, maybe Eddie is different now, too.

"Are you a bat?" Steve asks.

"Only sometimes. I can't control it."

"Are you really a vampire?" Steve asks.

"Not that I know of," Eddie answers. "But I could bite you, and then we'd find out together." 

Steve sighs with exasperation. 

"Be serious. Are you gonna attack me if I open the closet door?" Steve questions, because he's not in the mood for a fight. Not this early in the morning.

"Wasn't planning on it," Eddie says, dryly. "Can I at least get some underwear before you fling those doors open, though? For my modesty, dude. I'm feeling a little exposed in here. It's awfully breezy for a closet. There's an air vent blowing right up my crac-"

"Okay, okay, hold your horses," Steve interrupts.

If this isn't Eddie, it's a damn good mimic, and Steve supposes if that's the case, it deserves to kill him, just for being such a good actor. 

Steve goes over to his dresser, and picks up his walkie, turning it on, clipping it to his belt under his shirt. Just in case. Grabs his nailbat from under the bed, leaning it against the dresser.

Then he looks inside the top drawer, shouting, "Boxers or briefs?"

"Boxers!" Eddie answers, and Steve picks out a pair that he could stand to lose, and cracks the door open, and holds them out. A pale, ring-covered hand takes them. 

"You keep your rings when you change, but not your clothes?" Steve asks, leaning against the door again. Suspicious.

"I don't make the rules, Harrington. Last time I woke up wearing only my socks. That was a great look."

Steve laughs, even if he doesn't want to, even if he wants to be cautious. It just sounds dumb enough to be something that could happen to Eddie Munson, if he was turning into a bat.

Then, a minute later, "Okay. My dick's covered."

Steve shakes his head, unable to bite back the smile that threatens to split his face, as he eases the door open. As promised, Eddie's standing there in Steve's boxers, dick covered, and Eddie's also scrounged up an old swim team long-sleeve t-shirt from the depths of the closet.

And then they just stare at each other.

"Eddie?"

"Yep."

"Explain yourself," Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Um, I'm a part-time bat now?" Eddie says, looking sheepish. "From the bites, I guess?"

"I'm not a bat! And I got bit, too!" Steve screeches. He doesn't think he's a bat. But what if he's a bat and he just hasn't realized it yet? Fuck. Maybe he's a goddamn bat and that's why all the bats are lurking around the house.

"Did you die?" Eddie asks, "Because I did, I think. At least a little. Something happened when I came back."

"You became a bat? Can you like, poof, switch? Is there smoke?" Steve asks, then digs in his dresser, tossing Eddie a pair of joggers.

When he looks back, Eddie's at least a little more decent. Then he digs out a pair of socks, and tosses them over.

Eddie hops around getting them on each of his feet.

"No, I'm not Dracula," Eddie says, "Jesus H. Christ, Harrington. Keep up. Like I said. I can't control it. At least, not yet. The sun goes down? Bat. The sun goes up? Eddie. Most of the time, anyway. It's frustratingly unpredictable."

Steve ponders that, "Are you still…you? When you're a bat? Like, do you remember it?"

"Yeah, sure, I just can't talk. Which, for me, that's pretty fucking rough, man."

"I bet," Steve snarks, and Eddie just grins. 

Steve's relieved. He's probably not a bat, then. But he better make sure.

"Am I a bat?" Steve asks.

"Yep. You're the ringleader. King Steve, Bat God."

"Really?" Steve asks, the idea making him a little queasy. He doesn't want to be the ringleader of bats.

"No! You don't think you'd know if you were a bat? I think you're the one with bats in the belfry!" Eddie snaps, waving his arms around his head, indicating he thinks Steve is the crazy one. Which is pretty fucking rich, coming from bat boy over here.

"I don't know! I've never been a bat before!" Steve argues back, hands on his hips.

"And you still aren't one now!" Eddie yaps.

If he's not the King of Bats, and they aren't at the house to follow him, well. He has a thought: "Are you the one that brought all the goddamn bats to my house, then?"

"Um, no?" Eddie says, clearly lying.

"Eddie."

"I didn't mean to. They all started following me. Like they think I'm their leader. I can't shake 'em. When I saw the opportunity to get away from them and get into your house at the same time, I took it. Sorry about that."

"You don't sound sorry."

"I'm not, I lied to make you feel better," Eddie says, and Steve laughs, and Eddie smiles at him. It's good to see him, honestly.

And he allows himself a second or two just to take him in, alive and mostly well, then declares, "I'm glad you're okay. Sometimes bat or not."

"Thanks, Steve. Me too."

"Does anyone else know about you?" Steve asks, because they're gonna have to protect him. Just like they protect El. The special ones, amongst them. Keep it quiet.

"Um, no?" Eddie says, clearly lying again.

"Eddie."

"My uncle. And Gareth."

Steve is only vaguely aware of who that is, and only because of Henderson.

"That's it? Just the two of them?" Two's not so bad. They can deal with two-

"And JeffandGoodie," Eddie adds in a rush, as if mashing the two names together will make it less of a problem. Steve crosses his arms. 

"Eddie! You should have told one of us first. Me, or Henderson. Nancy. Lucas, Erica-"

"I'm scared of Erica," Eddie interrupts.

"Join the club, we're all scared of Erica!" Steve responds, "Fuck, you could have told Mike, I don't care. Just any one of us, in the know."

"I'm so sorry, Harrington, that I went to my own friends first instead of you and your monster version of the Scooby Gang. Hardy Boys. Nancy Drew. I don't know. All of you freaks."

Steve laughs, "Oh, now we're the freaks?"

"You know about monsters. You kill monsters. That's kind of freak behavior, Harrington."

Fair enough, Steve supposes, and he giggles at the thought of himself in an ascot like Fred Jones. Eddie's just poking at him. It's what he's always been good at, running his mouth and pissing people off.

Snapping back to the problem at hand, he honestly thinks he likes Eddie Munson. Smart mouth and all. Maybe they could be friends. Which he could have never imagined saying before spring break. He's really glad Eddie made it out, even if he's changed. They're all changed, just not in the exact same way as Eddie, and that's okay.

He's gotta tell Henderson. Pull that kid out of his funk. And Eddie's gonna love seeing Henderson's longer hair, rings and whole Eddie-inspired change. Steve's gotta be there when Eddie lays eyes on him for the first time.

"My band, they're pretty excited. A metal band with a real bat playing lead guitar? That's a multi-million dollar proposal, right?"

"Sure, Munson. I just hope after your first gig you enjoy your government sponsored cage, because that's exactly where you'll end up. Being poked and prodded. The freak."

Eddie sighs, and flops on Steve's bed, "I know. But let a guy dream."

Steve nods, and lays down next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder, "Eddie Munson. Bat Boy. Just like I saw on the cover of The National Enquirer."

"Weekly World News, Harrington, get it right."

And Steve just laughs, turning his head to look at him, "We should call the others. They'll be so excited to see you."

"Give me a few minutes?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods. He can give him a few minutes. 

And they just lay there in the quiet, the morning sun peeking through the curtains. Warm glow, all around.

"I turn into a bat," Eddie finally says.

"Yes, you do," Steve confirms.

How fucking weird is that? Only in Hawkins.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, pop over to @steddie-spooktober and follow along with the spooky fun! 🦇

Notes: Bat Boy did not actually make his debut in the supermarket tabloid Weekly World News until 1992. Guess in their universe he popped up a little bit earlier, lol. I couldn't resist. And the twenty-one shots around belly button rabies shots have gone out of standard since the 80s.

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field XIII

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: nothing much to say other than thank you guys and i hope you like it :)

series masterlist

You think you might die from this heat. The ice bag that Coryo brought you only lasted so long, especially when you shared it with the covey, which cut its window of efficacy in half. Both of you trailed behind everyone on the way to the lake, besides for Maude Ivory who found a very comfortable spot on Coryo's back. You should have thought to buy her some new shoes before the several-hour hike, but you didn't think that would be of consequence.

"How is Sejanus?" You ask, making conversation as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You'd like to gauge if Coryo knew anything more about your mutual friend's habit of hanging around with the wrong people.

"He's... yeah. He's fine." Coryo sighs, adjusting his hold on Maude Ivory's legs around his waist as he steps over a tree root.

"You don't sound so sure." You laugh, tilting your head up at him.

The bruise on your cheek wasn't red anymore, now healing into a yellowish hue that Coryo could hardly tear his eyes away from. He wishes you were still in the habit of wearing makeup every day, then he wouldn't have to stare down the result of his failure every time he looked at you. He shakes his head. "Well, I'll tell you about it later."

You just nod, looking down at the ground in front of you to make sure you don't trip. Now it was your turn to wish that the two of you could talk about what's going on between you. Whatever Sejanus is up to with Billy Taupe reminded you that even though you're far away from the chains of the Capitol, you still weren't entirely free. Even if now it was just free of the prying ears of a little blonde girl who loved to talk. "If you could change one thing about your routine right now, what would it be?" You ask, looking up at him again and squinting at the sun as it breaks through the trees above you.

Coryo draws his head back for a moment, confusion washing over his features at the seemingly random question. "Uh, everything. Next question."

"Ah-ah," You shake your head, hair falling into your face which you quickly pull back again. "Only one thing."

"Okay, fine." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Um... not sure, honestly. Maybe I'd have more success trapping those damn Mockingjays." He grumbles, looking up into the treeline.

You laugh, rubbing over the mostly healed scratches on your arms. "Nothing yet, huh?" Up until the point that you forgave him, you had gone out every night for almost a week, having learned a better system for opening the traps that didn't result in them cutting up your arms with their claws. Not so much as a thank you from the birds that apparently could speak, until you had started to thank yourself every time you reached around the side of the traps to open the metal, just so they would echo it back to you. You knew it was crazy, but it had become a fun semblance of a normal routine.

"Not one. Hardly any Jabberjays either, we think someone was setting them free in the night, they were easier to trap at first." He replies, smiling at you despite his frustrations about it. He couldn't wait until they could catch enough for Dr. Kay so he could start shooting them instead. "Rebels, most likely."

"That's annoying." You laugh, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone. "Why would they care about some birds?" It was a stupid question to pose, to poke holes in his only theory when it didn't already point back to you.

"They're hardly more than animals themselves." He grumbles, shrugging. "No, actually, I'd probably spend more time with you, if I could." He changes his answer and effectively, the topic as well. At this, Maude Ivory lifts her head from his shoulder.

"Are you guys in love?" She asks, turning her head so she can look at you now.

"Oh, no." Your cheeks burn as you laugh, shaking your head. "It's complicated big kid business, Maude Ivory."

"That's enough." Coryo chuckles nervously, spinning her on his hip and carefully putting her down. "Go bother the others."

The girl giggles, walking backward in front of you with her shoes in her hand. "It's why, I love you, you're as pure as the driven-" She starts to sing a song you were writing with Lucy Gray, knowingly taunting you, but you're quick to cut her off.

"Hey! Don't!" You laugh quickly, pretending to push her forward so she'll run along. "They've got some thin walls in that house..." You chuckle quietly, avoiding his gaze as you watch her run up ahead.

After a few moments of silence, Coryo speaks again. "What about you? What would you change?"

"Can I be uncreative and say the same thing as you?" You ask, cheeks still red.

"Sure." He nods slightly, a small smile on his face.

"Great, because those birds are starting to get on my nerves." You joke, bumping your shoulder against his arm.

He smiles, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I hate you too."

"Oh, hush. You know I love you." You freeze up as soon as you say it, suddenly it holds a lot more weight to it than your typical friendly banter.

At that, Coryo drapes his arm over your shoulder with a satisfied smile, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Can you tell me about Sejanus, now?" You ask, head placed on Coryo's lap as you lay on the dock. You had been out of the water for a little while, now, utilizing the sun to dry your wet hair and skin.

He looks back up to the cabin, seeing Lucy Gray and the rest of the covey scattered and picking plants or lying in the grass. "Uh, he just keeps sneaking off, and I found a good bit of money in his locker, but he told me he was broke so... I don't know what he's up to."

You sigh. "I've seen him hanging around Billy Taupe a lot. They're a sketchy crowd in the nicest of terms."

"Well, he is district. It doesn't surprise me that he'd associate with them." Coryo explains, distracted in a weak attempt at braiding a small section of your hair.

"He's gonna get himself killed." You mutter, eyes closed to block out the sun. You couldn't tell Coriolanus about how you ran into Sejanus a couple of weeks ago, knowing he would ask questions about why you were out at that time too. It's easier to lie to Sejanus than to him.

"It's not our problem if we stay out of it." Coryo tries to ease your mind.

"We can't just stand by and watch, though. It'll eat my conscience alive if something were to happen to him."

Coriolanus looks down at you, watching your calm expression form into something resembling worry. He chews on the inside of his cheek and nods to himself. He would have to do something, if Sejanus ended up getting in some kind of trouble, the guilt of knowing without acting will kill you. "Okay. I'll figure something out. I'll get him to keep his distance." He promises.

Days had passed since that interaction, and Coriolanus is crippled by the fear that he made a horrible mistake. He got the full story from Sejanus, and it was worse than he pictured.

You liked Sejanus, at least you acted like it when he was around. Coriolanus could always see that the district-born boy meant something to you, even if it was unclear based on the way you spoke about him when he wasn't present. Him running off into the woods with a bunch of derelect rebels was far from a viable option, Coriolanus wouldn't have it. He couldn't risk your reaction knowing that he told you he would do something to intervene.

He needed to talk to you. You were the only one he could trust to tell about the Capitol-bound recording he sent off of Sejanus' confession, or the news that his family had been kicked out of their apartment back home. He wasn't even sure he wanted to tell you. Coryo had been fighting this internal battle for what felt like ages, so maybe he could just include the basics, leave out his actions, and let you lift some of the tensions from his shoulders by telling him it would be okay. That it would all be over soon, and that you're proud of him for passing his exam. He could get the two of you out of this dump by the end of next week, and he couldn't get you away fast enough.

Unfortunately for him, when he finally arrived at the Hob on his night off you were already on stage with the Covey. You were laughing, dancing and spinning, occasionally joining Maude Ivory on her hip drum while Lucy Gray sang. The crowd loved you, and you loved the attention. He'd be lying to himself if he tried to say he didn't love watching you so happy, but the timing was inconvenient at best.

Coryo found his usual spot against the wall, sitting down next to Sejanus. He wasn't about to let him out of his sight, not anymore.

"Give it up for our friends in the band!" He smiles at Maude Ivory's excessive spirit as she holds her arms out to encourage applause before her eyes lock on him. Her face lights up more, somehow, and he greets it with a nod.

She turns to you while music is slowly tuning out, and gives a slight tug on the bottom of your new dress. It had been scuffed up in your fight with Ash, but you had cleaned it up nicely- hardly a stitch was out of place.

You look down at the girl, who just gives a slight nod in the direction of the wall Coryo was sat against. "He's here, you gotta sing it now!" Maude Ivory says, loud enough so you could hear but not enough to be picked up by the mic behind her.

You look very briefly over at Coryo, shaking your head at her as your cheeks turn rosy. "He's never gonna hear it." You say, leaning down to her level. "Who even says its about him, huh?"

"You can't trick me, Sage." She giggles, pointing at your nose.

"C'mon, lets do it!" Lucy Gray chimes in encouragingly as you stand back up. "I'll play for you. All you gotta do is sing."

You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head again. "No, I-"

"Now, welcome back for her second performance with us, Sage! She's gonna take us over for a minute here. I promise, y'all are in for a real treat." You're interrupted by Maude Ivory making the announcement for you. Internally you cuss, plastering on a nervous smile.

"It's beautiful, you gotta relax." Lucy Gray says in your ear, already adjusting her hold on her guitar. "If I can sing a breakup song to the whole country, you can sing a love song just to the folks in this room. C'mon." She smiles, nodding for you to take the mic as Maude Ivory bows you in.

You'd played this song a bunch back at the Covey's home after Lucy Gray caught you humming the abstract tune of a lullaby your mother used to sing to get you to sleep when you were little. You didn't remember a single word, but the melody was enough for her to recreate and embellish it into one of their songs, to which she insisted you help her write the words for.

Coryo is leaning forward, elbows rested on his knees as he watches you. From what he knew, you weren't much of a singer. The redness evenly spreading across your cheeks and nose in time with the intro music was evidence enough of that.

"Sing for us, sweetheart!" Someone from the crowd calls out, which is matched with whistles that force Coryo to sit up to try and get a look at who the hell is yelling at you. His jaw is seized until he hears your voice echoing through the large room, drawing his gaze back to you on the stage.

"I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary. It's why I need you, you're as pure as the driven snow..."  You look over his way only briefly while you sing the first round of the chorus, trying not to let your voice catch from the nervousness still pumping through every inch of your body.

He knows it before you're finished, but the last word, the one you didn't let Maude Ivory get to on the way to the lake, makes his heart flip in his chest. The eye contact he made with you as you said his name was so heavy with everything you've ever wanted to say to one another but never had, and he completely swells with pride knowing that it was about him.

"Cold and clean, swirling over my skin..." The inclination, again, to shout to everyone that you were his girl was immense and overtaking. Just like the first time, but now he knew it for sure. He was positive."You cloak me, You soak right in, down to my heart."

By the time you render the final verse, his whole world has changed."It's why I trust you, you're as pure as the driven snow..."

I'm gonna marry her.

He's up as soon as the song is over, heading for the back of the stage as you take your bow. Your smile is wiped when you look up and he's no longer there, and neither is Sejanus. Worry pools in your insides as you scan the crowd, giving a rushed smile to Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory as you jump down. You hurry to the back of the stage, brow furrowed as you search for Coryo.

By some miracle, he's there. If you're not mistaken, he's got tears in his eyes as he strides up to you quickly, the stage lights leaking past the stage to illuminate him just enough. His pace and his intense expression only worry you more. "Is everything-" You ask frantically, only for your question to be disrupted by his actions.

Coryo takes a deep breath, and then, as soon as you're within reach, he cups your face in his hands and leans in. The world around you seems to fade as his lips meet yours in a passionate, long-awaited kiss.

Time stands still, and in that moment, everything falls into place. The worries that plagued him when he walked in completely dissolved as he felt your hair in between his fingers. When he finally pulls away, a small smile graces his face.

You're both breathing heavily as you stare at each other, and it's then that you realize he wasn't crying due to any kind of upset. He was crying because of you. With a smile so real that you could feel the sun on your back, even late at night in this dim building hundreds of miles from the comfort of your collective home.

"Coryo..." You say, smile fading as you regain perceptions of your real life.

"I know, and I have so much to tell you..." He grins, leaning down to kiss you again.

It was your turn to interrupt, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks. Tracks you so desired to follow, wherever they may take you, but right now you had bigger concerns. "No, no it's... where is Sejanus?"

He pauses, and it's like the spell is broken as he straightens his posture, looking around as if Sejanus should be right there. "Uh... shit." He had completely forgotten about his friend as he fell under the trance of your voice, of the song you were singing to him.

You're quickly out from under his arms, walking back around the side of the stage to go look for your friend.

"Coryo-" You stop, and he's right on your heels as you turn back to him, pointing toward the back wall. "Go check the bar. Keep an eye out for Billy Taupe. Obviously. He's probably with him." You instruct and he nods to you quickly before beginning to push his way through all the drunk people in the crowd.

You try and scan the sea of faces, but you don't see Sejanus anywhere. The music the Covey is playing is loud, drowning out any hopes you had of being able to shout for the boy. You could follow Coryo in the search, but that would no doubt just waste time. You groan, pushing your hair back out of your face in frustration. You shouldn't have stopped Coryo from kissing you again, if Sejanus wants to be reckless you should just let him. The two of you already saved his life once, was that not enough for him?

You glance down the deserted hallway to your right, and then your feet are carrying you toward the back room in an instant. You turn the corner and push the sliding door open when you hear shouting coming from the other side. "What the fuck is going on?" You ask, eyes flitting between Sejanus, and the two other boys in the room, alongside a girl who who you vaguely recognize.

"Y/N?" Sejanus asks, turning back to you quickly.

"Y/N..." The girl mutters to herself, rolling the name around in her mind and on her tongue. You can see it in the way she's looking at you. You ignore it, eyes locked on your friend now.

"I told you to not get involved in things you shouldn't, didn't I? Didn't Coryo?" You scold him, gesturing to the door.

"It's not- I didn't know they were going to buy weapons! It's not what I wanted, they told me the money was only for supplies, that no one would get hurt!"

"These are supplies." Billy Taupe's friend, Spruce, replies.

"Why would you trust them!" You spit, pointing vaguely at the other people in the room.

"Listen, Princess-" Billy Taupe starts, a bitter taste to his tone just as the door slides open again. Coryo's frame is blocking your view of the boy in a second, tucking you carefully behind his back.

"Talk to me. Not her." He hisses, and you grab his arm. The feeling of his skin under your palms is comforting, warm, and tense in your grip. "What are you doing, guns, Sejanus?" He turns his attention to your classmate.

"Coriolanus, I didn't know this is what they would do, they lied to me-" Sejanus starts his pleads for help again on a separate set of ears.

Unsurprisingly, his response is almost identical to yours. "You thought they would be honest? What are you doing? There are peacekeepers right outside!"

"That's what I said." You mumble in exasperated agreement "Why did you even give them money at all?" You ask, hoping to get some answers.

"Sejanus wants to run off with these dimwits into the woods up north," Coryo explains to you.

"What?" You ask, shocked, looking past him at the boy you've known for years. The thought of never seeing him again pulls at your heartstrings in a way you're unfamiliar with. "You can't. Absolutely not."

"You're not my Ma, Y/N!" Sejanus spits.

"Wait, I know you." The girl cuts in, pointing at you. "You're that missing girl. From the Capitol. Y/N Y/L/N. My dad got a call about you!"

You freeze up at the accusation, biting your tongue as you look up at Coryo. A memory flashes in your mind, that's why you recognize her. She's the girl who Lucy Gray dropped a snake on in the reaping- the mayor's daughter. "Huh?" You ask, trying to look as confused as possible.

"Don't play dumb, we're past that." She scoffs and you just shake your head.

"Genuinely, don't know what you're talking about." You relax your posture, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Well," She sighs, shrugging sarcastically. "I'll go tell my dad where you are. Your family sure is missin' you..." She starts to take a few steps before the back exit and you clench your jaw at her smug smile. You want to rip the hair out of her head and throw her body in the lake to rot.

"Mayfair, you can't leave." Billy Taupe scolds her, grabbing her arm which she quickly yanks away.

"This is ridiculous and confusing, and you act like I don't see the way you still look at Lucy Gray! Why don't you take her with you instead, huh?"

"She is coming, isn't she?" Spruce asks, seeming just as confused as you in a completely opposite way.

"You were bringing Lucy Gray?!" Mayfair shouts, shaking her head at her (now presumably) ex-boyfriend.

"She said she wanted to come!" Billy Taupe defends and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Okay, so clearly there's some major communication issues in this gang of misfits you've found, Sejanus, so let's just go and leave them to it. It won't benefit you to be stuck in the wilderness with a bunch of starving idiots who will kill each other in a week if they get too lazy to hunt." You plead with him and he shakes his head at you.

"Y/N, wait-" Coryo says, looking back at you only briefly.

"Yeah, Capitol Princess is right. I'm out." Mayfair says, raising her hands in defeat and turning to leave. "You'll all hang for this!"

"This power trip you have about your father being the mayor pales in comparison to what my family has. You'll all be dead by the morning if you say a word." You tell her, voice calm as she freezes, turning to look back at you.

"She's all talk, she won't tell anyone." Billy Taupe tries to defend her from the tensions rising in the room. You were concerned about getting sent home, of course, but if she told about their plans to run, everyone in the room would be executed come the morning light.

"Oh, you think I'm scared of you, Sage? You think I won't tell? Ask Lucy Gray." She's right, Lucy Gray had told you about how this girl was responsible for the reaping being rigged to result in Lucy Gray's death in the games. What they never accounted for was her strength, her intelligence, and her having Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Y/L/N as mentors.

And how Lucy Gray became a victor, known initially to most of the Capitol for her similarities to you. Only, Lucy Gray wasn't bat shit crazy.

Coryo's mind is reeling at the threat made to you as the girl starts to walk away. Within a second, before you can even make a move to tackle her, he's reaching onto the table and grabbing one of the guns. He lines up quickly and squeezes the trigger, letting the bullet fly square into the center of the girl's back. His training had paid off sooner than he thought. Coriolanus wasn't about to have you caught, sent back to a home much worse than that safety hazard at the edge of the Seam where you're currently staying.

"Mayfair!" Billy Taupe is quickly at the girls side, but she's already dead. Sejanus is shaking, and you are fighting back the smile that threatens to form on your lips despite the stress of the moment. "What have you done?" He screams at your friend.

"She was gonna get us all killed!" You defend. "You should be thanking him! Trust me, she was nothing special."

"You've got something comin', Capitol boy." He says, shaking his head as he looks up at the two of you, hatred filling his eyes. "You think you're gonna blame me for this? That you'll never get caught?"

You resist the urge to just shrug, agreeing that no, probably not. Undeniably, your best move would be to blame him. "He was defending all of us, can you not get that through your thick skull?" You settle on, keeping your footing as level as possible as Coryo pulls you back closer to his side again.

"If I swing, for this you will with me!" He screams in anger, back on his feet and moving quickly towards you as Coryo shoves you back behind him, lining up again. He didn't have to shoot, though, because Spruce does. The boy's body flings into the wall to the left of you from the force of the impact, slumping against the floor.

Your heart is pounding as you look between your two friends. "Sejanus, are you alright?" You ask, trying to approach him as Coryo starts shouting orders at Spruce to get rid of the guns.

"Hey, he's fine." Coryo grabs your arm, pulling you close to him to look at you. "I'm gonna handle this. Get back out there and sing, play the violin, just do something, okay?"

You glance back at Sejanus again, who is clearly panicking so bad he looks like he might faint. "No, I'm not leaving you, and Sejanus-"

"Sejanus is fine." Coryo says again sternly, shaking your shoulders now as he looks into your eyes. "Go back out there. I will handle this. I'll find you soon." He promises, gently pushing you in the way of the door. "Go. Now."

You swallow the anxiety sitting uncomfortably in the back of your throat and nod, glancing only briefly at your friends before you leave, closing the door quickly behind you.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world @nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

i've closed my taglist for coryo now!! sorry to everyone who wanted to be added, but unfortunately there was significantly more demand than i expected and i sadly just can't tag everyone. BUT! if you still want notifications when i post for this fic, please turn on my post notifs!!

[profundcherrylady]

SINGLE DAD!SAE ITOSHI.

A/N: Finally writing about Sae's late wife because y'all have been begging me to (y'all: like 3 people). Honestly idk if I'm gonna make more parts of this one so sorry I can't think of anything else at the moment (and I have other themes I wanna write)

Warnings: Mentions of death (kinda explicit but not too much) and SOME angst, bc obviously he's gonna be sad. Lots of grieving (it all works out in the end trust 🙏)

Contents: Sae being a little careless and awkward lol, kid not knowing a single thing about keeping her thoughts to herself, some fluff but this is a weird mix of like three things at the same time including hurt/comfort. Implied fem!reader (usage of femenine pronouns for reader, reader being refered to as 'miss')

Description: After losing his daughter at the supermarket, y/n FINALLY makes and appearance and makes the tag "sae x reader" make sense for once.

At the vegetable section, you struggled to choose between the various options to bring home for dinner. It shouldn't be this hard, since you were all by yourself most of the time, but you couldn't decide what you wanted to eat. It was then when you felt a gentle tug on your coat that made you look down, little teary teal eyes meeting yours and almost making you smile at the adorable sight of this kid staring at you in confusion.

"Hey sweetheart, what's wrong? Where are your parents?" you took notice of the lack of adult supervision this child had, since all the other adults around seemed to be either alone or not in panic of having lost a kid.

The girl opened her mouth to speak but then paused (seemingly reconsidering her words) and then spoke again, "Hi, my name is Mao Itoshi. I can't find my papa right now, can you help me find him or get me to the 'nearesest' 'autohority'?

And your heart almost melted at the way she messed up her little speech (which you assumed was given by her father in case she got lost). And how could you say no to helping this little angel? "Aw, of course honey, let's get you to your dad." you took her small hand in yours, ensuring she wouldn't get lost again, and started walking around in hopes to find her father. She still seemed a little scared and confused but you managed to calmed her down with the assurance of finding her dad. "What does he look like?"

"Um... he's... super tall and super cool-looking." you chuckled at her answer. Of course she wouldn't give you an actual description.

"I mean, what's the color of his hair or his eyes. Does he have eyes like yours?"

"Yeah."

"And what's his name?"

"...Papa?" you laughed again.

"You know your dad's name isn't 'papa', right? He has an actual name."

"He does??? What is it?"

"I don't know." you giggled. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll know when we find him."

"Mao!!" a short-breathed, panicked voice interrupted your little conversation, and it was then when you spotted Sae for the first time. You weren't particularly interested in football, but even then Sae's reputation as the country's favorite midfielder was hard to ignore. One would think he wouldn't be out in a public space like this, but here he was, a totally different face as what was shown in the media. He looked just like a regular father, relived to have found his child.

"Papa!" the child beamed at the sight of her dad, and she let herself be carried and hugged as soon as he reached her.

"What were you thinking wandering around like that? You're just so- I've told you a million times- You are in so much trouble, young lady, you- What did you think would happen if-" he took a moment to breathe. In moments like this one, gentle parenting was probably one of the hardest things Sae has ever done. He tried his best to not loose his cool and scream at her; that wouldn't solve anything. The important thing was that she was safe and sound. "...You are going to give me a heart attack one of these days. Something bad could've happened to you, you know? I'm just... glad you're okay." and it was then when Sae first took notice of you, standing awkwardly trying to not ruin the little family reunion.

"She helped me get to you, papa." he heard his daughter explain, and it made sense because he knew the little girl would probably still be crying for her dad if no one was there to help. So although he would've liked to avoid the extra social interaction, he figured the least he could do was say thank you.

"Thank you for helping her. I've told her to not wander around, especially in big supermarkets like this, but she just won't listen sometimes..." you chuckled once again, now more from embarrassment than amusement at her antics.

"That's okay. I know how kids can be."

"You got any?" he inquired, and you shook your head with another laugh (which Sae didn't understand because he asked seriously).

"Nah. I mean, they're nice, I'm not saying I wouldn't like any, but I don't have any kids at the moment. Just little siblings; they can be just as difficult."

"You don't have to tell me twice..." he scrunched his nose a little at the thought of Rin as a child, and how difficult he was to handle, which in retrospective made it easy to figure how he got along so well with his niece (lil bro was just as problematic)

"But your kid seems nice. I'm sure she's a good child."

"When she wants to be... but mostly yes, I try to make sure she grows up to be good."

"I'm pretty sure she will."

"Are you single, miss?" Sae turned his head at his child so fast he might've breaked his neck, but he didn't care about that, he was too busy being shocked.

"Mao, don't ask people things like that."

"Why not? She's so nice to me, I like her. And you're single too!"

"That doesn't mean you can ask her if she's single. You need to think before you speak a little more, god..." he turned to you again, "So sorry about her; seems like she hasn't learned social norms yet." (Isn't that his job to teach her? Lol.) "We'll be going now, thanks again." with the still complaining child on his arms, he walked away to his shortly abandoned shopping cart, making sure to NOT set her down this time so he could keep an eye on her.

"Papaaaaa."

"Don't throw a tantrum in here, please... what's going on now? What you did was wrong, you know?" he sighed. "I don't you didn't mean anything bad, but you can't just ask any woman who is nice if she's single and try to set her up with me."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't correct, okay? Why are you insisting so much on this?" she pouted, hiding her face on his shoulder on an attempt to not talk to him. Sae rolled his eyes at the sight as he continued pushing the shopping cart through the aisles, then spoke again. "Come on, tell me."

"I wanna do the mommy-daughter dance at school..."

"Oh..." that made it make sense. "I could do it with you; you don't have to set up strange women with me for a parent-daughter dance."

"It's a mommy-daughter dance! It's not the same... I'm the only one who doesn't have a mom and the teacher says it's okay but I know my classmates are gonna think I'm weird." he hummed, understanding her feelings. Of course, he hadn't gone through anything similar, but he could get how she could feel singled out if she showed up to a mother-daughter dance with her father. He really did wish there was something he could do to make her feel a little better.

"Well, sweetie, there's not much I can do... you know I'm happy to do the dance with you if you want." he felt her lower her voice a little as he got closer to the line infront of the check-out.

"I know..."

"Don't get so sad... you're not going to be left out, I promise. It's the same thing, I mean, what difference does it make? I'm still a parent, and you said your teacher said it was okay."

"She did..." Sae's attempts to cheer up his daughter were failing, so he went straight to the only fool-proof plan he's ever known to always work.

"You want me to buy you ice-cream?"

"Okay..." he smiled a little for her, hoping to coax her to do the same, and once he was close enough to the small ice-cream freezer next to the cash register he opened the lid to take one for the little girl (one he knew for sure that she loved, just to be safe). But as he was taking out his hand he took notice of your presence, again. You looked even more surprised than him, but your expression quickly changed at the sight of the sad child.

"Aw... it's you again." you said, "why the long face, little one?"

"Don't mind her, she's upset about something... rightfully." Sae responded before Mao could. "Can't do anything about it though."

"A mother-daughter dance."

"And... why is that difficult...? Does she not have a...?"

"No."

"Oh... I'm very sorry." he answered you straight to the point. He was used to people asking about his late wife but he never bothered talking about it. It just... still hurt. And it kind of hurt even more knowing he couldn't give his daughter the one thing she yearned for the most, even though everyday he tried his hardest to give her the best life possible. He did everything in his power, he fought and struggled and worked day-to-day to be both a father and a mother somehow but it still wasn't enough. She still missed her mom as much as he did and the thought of replacing that woman was... well, there's just a reason why Sae was out of the dating game after his wife's passing.

And now he was here, teary-eyed child on his arms and a woman he only met once that same day on the supermarket, when the possibly stupidest idea came up to his brain, and he made the stupidest decision of saying it out loud.

"Listen, I know we don't... know each other technically but my daughter seems to think you're nice and... could you go with her to that dance? She just... she doesn't want to feel left out." he was also kind of desperate. Like really, really desperate because if he wasn't he wouldn't be asking this to a supermarket stranger. "You don't have to if you don't want to, but I... can't seem to find a solution to this. She'll settle to go with me if I tell her but she'll be sad and... people won't know you aren't actually her mom. It'll just be one night."

You doubted for a moment, but when you looked at that sad little girl with her big eyes full of tears, how on earth were you supposed to say no?

"Okay, I'll do it. I don't mind."

"And don't get me wrong, okay? I'm not trying to... replace her mother or anything; it's just that one night." he warned, and you nodded. "Thank you."

He tried to be nonchalant about it, however it was hard to deny the strange feelings he had about the situation. He closed himself off after his wife passed away and he promised to not try and find her a replacement, alas not get married again. This was the mother of his only child and the one woman he could say he's ever loved; how could he just throw that away dating someone else after she died like that? It felt wrong, somehow.

When he got married it was "til dead do us apart" so, what now that it did? He couldn't move on, no matter how much he tried. Even when his wife was dead he was struggling to process that he was a widowed man; whatever interaction he had with any woman for some reason still felt like a betrayal of his marriage. Like cheating. He was cheating on his wife who was no longer even alive. His daughter was motherless and he was a little bit of a coward. Many people had told him it was the grieving process and that the feelings would pass with time but they didn't feel like they were. He still teared up a little whenever he remembered that day when the stupid rain caused a stupid car crash that his wife wasn't even involved in yet got unjustly affected from the aftermath of the crash. Or when he got home and remembered he was one person short of a family. Yes, he had a daughter and furthermore a family to come home to, yet he felt... oddly lonely.

Was that normal? Was he allowed to feel lonely? How could he when she still had that child waiting for him at home and looking up to him, making him drawings and giving him hugs whenever she felt sad?

Maybe it was because he spent so much time working, or because his daughter spent a lot of time at her preschool, that it almost felt like it was just him. That he really was lonely.

So, fast-forward to a few months later, imagine his surprise when (before he could even realize it) you were part of his daily routine? It had become so frequent for his daughter to ask for your presence at school events or things like do her hair or just play together for a while that in a very short amount of time he found himself calling you over every weekend, and maybe making a little conversation with you while you were there. Then hours would pass and it would become a little too late for you to go home, so he'd offer you spend the night, and later inquire if you had dinner yet to make sure he had made enough food. The morning would come and with the moon hiding to let the sun rise you'd be gone as well; quick farewells before you rushed back to your own routine and his daughter would inevitably ask how much was left to see you again.

Then he'd chuckle at her impatience, staring at the door you just left through for a brief second.

And he'd say 'soon'.

[kaq3yma]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑 ft yamato endo

syn: could he a be a good judge of character after all?

⸻ contains: slight yandere tendencies, reader is mentioned to be a cashier, and languages.

qeena's brief note: yippieeeee finally wrapped up my endo fic AND slightly yandere endo (๑-﹏-๑) wowzwowzzz but honestly idk how i feel about this um whether i like it or not BUT i dont hate it rofl anyway no long note this time, im keeping it "brief" (๑>؂•̀๑) so lemme know what you guys think of this, thank you, i love you, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated and happy reading xoxo 🩷💚

It's that one time, that one time he walk around amidst of the night trying to find an open store to buy fireworks for Takiishi. He stop in his trance, gaze swept away by a solitary store stood out among the dimly light streets. His feet brought him almost leisurely to the front door and that's when he saw you, working through the racks to fill up stocks.

When he pushes the door open, the automatic bell chime and you turn around "Welcome..." The corner of his eyes crease as he smile at you "Hey, do you guys have any fireworks in 'ere?" Yeah, it's not everyday a weird looking guy with weird tattoos litter across his body come in the middle of the night asking for fireworks "Yeah, sure..." He follows you to the farthest corner of the store where you kept them "Is there anything else?" The man turn to you, shaking his head "That'll be all,"

You rushes back to the counter, patiently waiting for him to come back and pay "Y/n..." Your eyes widen, and as you look up, you're surprised to see him leaning down to your face very closely. His eyes concentrated on your tag. You ring every bit of his items as quickly as you could "That'll be 507¥." He huff, taking the bag from you and leave.

You really thought it'll be the last time you see him...

But no, the weird man keep coming back, not to buy fireworks or anything, just to loiter around and pester you with your works and because it's in the middle of the night, there's barely any customers in the store which leave you not to only listen to his constant yapping but to reluctantly accompany him as well "Don't you have anything else to do?" He point at the cup of noodle he site on the table "Besides eating?" You groaned, shaking your head "No. Besides bothering me." He snickers, taking a noisy slurp of his noodle "I do. Following Takiishi around."

You look at him, confused but you dismissed the thought straight away "Whatever, I'm going back to work, if you're finish eating, leave." He pout, putting down the utensils he's using "You're mean. I'm a customer, y'know?" You sway your head at him "You make me pay for you everytime, you fool." He breaks into a fit of laughter, watching you mad is so hilarious.

The next night, he strides to the familiar route of your shop, face bruised and nose trickled with stained blood. The prior incident flashes in his mind once again.

He was with Takiishi like usual, tailing behind the poker-faced male wherever he go without question. The duo browse a town with its street swarming with delinquents and thugs. Endo didn't mind and he's sure as hell Takiishi didn't mind it either but when one of the men purposefully pick a fight with Takiishi, Endo decided to step up for him instead and he got a harsh blow from Takiishi "Don't intervene." Another blow, his face spotted with sheepish smile and blood smearing out every cuts as Takiishi continue to beat the tattooed male.

"Why am I going to her, anyway?" He didn't understand why his feet brought him to you. He knew what you're like, indiffirent and without a doubt, he can guarantee you couldn't care less about the bruises on his face, so why is he here? In front of your work place, damaged face grinning without a thought. He opens the door, greeting you with that same crazed smile.

"Welcome...!" Your eyes widen upon seeing the state he's in "What the fuck happened to you?" He chortle, bringing one hand to touch a singular cut on his face which causes him to wince terribly "... That hurts." He couldn't properly registered what was happening until you pull him to a nearby table and sat him down "Of course, it hurts, you prick. You leave the wounds untended!" He watch you move around the store, going to the back room and came back with a first aid kit "You're so careless..." You sighed, lift the lid of the box and start tending him.

A deep gash across his cheek, several cuts and scratches covering his forehead and temple, nose trickled in crimson and eyes almost swollen "Just what the hell did you get yourself into..." You graze alcoholic pad across the wound to clean it, damping ointment gently over the cuts and scratches and finally, you put one last bandaid below his eye, on the apple of his cheek "All done."

Your eyes flutter forward to him, only then did you realized just how close you both are. Your eyes expanded and you almost fall back in shock but he caught you, rolling into laughter "Why are you red?" There's that, that hint of mockery lacing in his undertone "Shut up, asshole. You didn't even thank me for stitching you up." You look away from him, well, he wanted to tease you some more by how red and incredibly cute you look at this moment but uncharacteristically, he stayed quiet.

"Thanks," You look up, awkwardly coughed out fake coughs "D-Don't mention it, just buy me something next time." You pick up the first aid kit and leave back to the cashier.

He leave the store, heart pounding within its cage, he can feel himself shuddering to the bone at the slightest remembrance of you. Yes, he likes you, he think he wants to make you his, he think you are so perfect... Don't tell Takiishi but, now, you're his number one.

And yes, he indeed still is a bad judge of character.

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 is open. all rights reserved goes to @kaq3yma on tumblr.

[velvetvexations]

as an autistic trans man, sometimes I feel less safe in public presenting as a man than as a woman, because, especially in certain places, man + visibly autistic tends to be more often falsely read as "dangerous and predatory" than when people read me as a woman.

Yeah, as an autistic trans woman who doesn't pass, I feel that. <3

Honestly thank you so much for what you do on this app. I'm so glad there's people who are actually willing to stand with trans men instead of pulling the "um well I have it worse so do NOT talk about your own oppression EVER or else you're a transmisogynist!" I'm so happy I found your blog and I hope you have a great week <3

I hope you have a great week as well!

Eh a long while ago Chris Fleming made a video making fun of polyamorous people which used a lot of the same hurtful stereotypes society already perpetuates against us and I’ve not paid attention since

Noted, as someone who is also poly.

i wish the queer community didnt put so much emphasis on sexuality labels like i just want to have sex why do i need to put a word to it

very valid

about the dropout “discourse”: hot take but real life people are not representation. theyre people. real people are not queerbaiting you and real people happening to not be transfem (and I have literally seen transfems in some dropout episodes theyre just not part of the main cast) is not a lack of representation. these are real people. stop* *not you, the people being shitty about it

the complaint is not in any way coming from a genuine place tbh

hey! i just wanted to let you know how much your blog means to me as a trans guy. you and your reblogs have given me hope at trans unity, and lets me know that i-- that we-- aren't alone. so thank you for everything you do, and i greatly appreciate your support and look up to you 💛

Thank you. <3

i redownloaded etsy recently and seeing all the trans stuff saved to my favorites is so sad. i used to feel happy and proud and i wanted to be open about being transmasc. but since all the discourse got worse i just. cant bring myself to feel like it matters. it makes me feel like im trans and yet i will never matter the way other trans people do.

You do matter anon, I promise. I love you, you matter, and I'm glad you're here.

As a trans guy a lot of the self-ID'd TME transmascs weird me out so much. Like why do they all sound like "I am so strong and my power to Harm Women is immense. I could do it so much and I feel the pull to the Transmisogynist Dark Side but *unsheaths sword* I will protect them instead with my big strong testosterone arms from my fellow men" like what even is that. Who is into this.

it's so incredibly obviously bad but it reinforces some people's victim complexes so it's praxis now

a trans person will joke about their experience and a trf will jump in to assume theyre a white transmasc who has never ever faced any real difficulties for being trans

every time

Out of the many, many stupid ideas in this dumb discourse, I've finally decided the one I hate the most is that underlying implication that transmascs just aren't trans enough. It's so gross seeing people imply that we aren't really trans. Our dysphoria is minimal discomfort at most, apparently. I've seen people post about and imply that transmascs will never understand not feeling like a person or being unable to live a life pre transition and that's why we have privilege, i guess - are you kidding me? It's like our experiences are a joke to these people who are clearly so wrapped up in their online discourse bubble that they're just detached from what it's like for trans people as a whole. Sorry for the vent (would rather not post this on main and I don't have anyone to talk to) but it's just the most grating part. Also it's like. Low-key transmed shit. Thought we left that behind, c'mon.

transmeds are like ants they come back every summer

i wish TRFs had a label they proudly called themselves so i could jsut go through their tags and block them, but noooooo they HAVE to frame their transphobic bullshit as Brilliant Transfeminist Theory. like atleast radfems are fucking honest about being radfems

That's part of why I made antigonism a label for anti-TRFs to call themselves~!

[xmads-omensx]

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

CW: references to past negative relationships

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @tosoundlessdarkistare @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986  @dominuslunae @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @overmydeadbodysblog @illmakeyousaywow @dsireland86 @missduffsblog  @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @dontwantthemoney @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm @museonfilm @death-ofpeace-ofmind @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @kissestomyomens @flowery-mess @athenexe @anything-more-than-human @oobleoob @dollieomens @astronoids @pipidoll @geminigirlfromfinland

"Can we look in here?" You asked, pointing at the music store.

"Sure." Noah replied with an almost unreadable expression on his face.

"I wanna learn guitar." You said with a giggle as you approached the store.

"How come?" Noah asked.

"Just wanna." You replied.

As you entered the store, Noah held open the door like he always did, but for some reason, he felt almost... reserved, which was something you hadn't seen in him since your first date.

The store itself was small. Quiet.

It was just you, Noah and two employees.

Honestly, it was the perfect time to be at the store since there wasn't anyone else testing instruments and making insane amounts of noise.

Still, Noah seemed withdrawn.

The employees watched you two as you began to look at the acoustic guitars, Noah trailing behind you.

"Anything I can help you with?" The female employee asked, a kind smile on her face.

She looked to be in her early twenties with pinkish-red hair and a septum piercing and sharp eyeliner.

"Actually yeah-" Before you could finish, the male employee cut you off.

"They don't need our help Lili, They're fine." He said.

Noah simply put his hand on your waist and gently steered you to a different section of the store.

You could feel the male employee's eyes on you as you followed Noah.

That's when the flash went off and Noah all but dragged you out of the store.

"Noah?" You spoke, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Just come on." He whispered in a hurried voice.

He lead you back to his car and all but shoved you into the passenger seat. He shut the door with a sigh once he was in the drivers seat.

"What's going on baby?" You asked in a mildly panicked voice.

"Nothing. It's just..." Noah started.

"You can tell me anything baby." You assured him. His shoulders visibly relaxing at your words.

"I'm in a band." He began.

This information took you by surprise since had never told you. But you let him talk instead of interrupting to question him.

"The guy took a picture of us. I'm just..." He went on, voice trailing off.

"Not ready to be public?" You filled in.

His eyes lit up at your seeming understanding.

"Exactly." He whispered.

"That makes sense. But why didn't you tell me you're in a band?" You asked, voice kind and free of judgement.

"I've had shitty experiences with people I've dated in the past. They um... used me for follows or because they were fans and never told me. None of them loved me. I was scared you were like them so I didn't tell you because I really fucking like you." He spoke, voice hurried as he trailed off.

"What's your band called?" You asked.

"Bad Omens." He replied, voice hesitant as if he were waiting for you to fangirl over him.

"Okay." You replied.

"That's it?" Noah asked, voice loud with shock.

"Sorry, I'll try again... Oh my god! Noah from Bad Omens I'm such a huge fan! Oh wow you're amazing! I love your song... tell me a song." You began in an overly enthusiastic voice.

"Just Pretend." He giggled.

"Just Pretend! Yes my favourite song ever that I one thousand percent know all the words to!" You went on, voice descending into laughter.

Noah smiled fondly at you as the two of you laughed.

"Baby, if I'm gonna be your girlfriend, I'm automatically a fan of everything you do." You assured him.

Noah didn't say anything, but instead pulled you into a tight hug. You stayed like that for what felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes.

"If you wanna learn guitar you just have to ask baby." He said.

"Yeah?" You asked.

"Yeah. I'm gonna teach you." He said with a proud smile.

"Come on then." You laughed. "Oh and you can play me some of your omens songs on the drive home."

"Bad Omens! Come on I thought you were supposed to be my biggest fan." He laughed.

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Five

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE. THEY MEET. AH IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY. But I have just finished writing part 6! So I figured why not post 5? SO here it is, hope you enjoy? X

>Just a note! So there's no confusion, this first section of 5 coincides at the same time as the last part of 4, as in where heading into the studio it was seen from Matty's POV, this starts with Mouse's and then goes onto them actually meeting one another! Okay? ta:)

Warnings: um, moody matty, lil bit of self-consciousness, mentions of scarring

Masterlist

I was running a bit behind schedule. Which wasn't too unusual for me, what with being the single parent to a rambunctious four year old, but this time around I’d somehow managed to allow myself to be waylaid by Adi's antics.

Apparently upon entering the studio this morning, everything had just felt a little 'off'.

And after having announced that, I’d had to sit back and watch on whilst Adi had trudged out of the room in her heavy black boots, only to come back a few moments later with a stub of sage in one hand and a lighter in the other.

Honestly, I was pretty sure that I could still taste the thick plume of smoke that I’d been forced to inhale each time I breathed in, even after having quickly made my escape. But yet it clung to the back of my throat uncomfortably and I couldn't avoid the grimace that wrinkled my face as I tried to rid myself of the sooty tang which coated my tongue.

But that was just Adi, I supposed. And it was one of the many things I loved most about her, how she was so unapologetically herself- even if it meant that I was forced to cough up a lung-full of herbs every once in a while.

See, it was actually Adi’s grandmother that had gotten her into performing all of the rites and cleanses she did so often. The woman was a real spiritualist and had taken Ads in at a very young age, so Adi had practically grown up around it all. She often spoke about how her grandmother had wanted her to follow down the same path and show a deeper interest, but Adi had always been much more fascinated by music, fashion and all things that revolved around tech. 

She was a proper whiz with a computer, but that didn't mean she didn't have an appreciation for her grandmother’s beliefs, nor a knack.

"Are you still coughing up a storm, you drama queen?"

Speak of the devil, and he doth appear, I thought dryly, as Adi reemerged from out of the hazy recording booth. The sage now nowhere to be seen.

I rolled my eyes at her and continued to fiddle with the wires I had wound in my hand.

"I can't fucking stand the stuff, Ads."

Adi merely smirked at me as she bypassed, practically skipping.

"I know, but it's always good to be prepared! Who knows what we'll have to deal with when the infamous diva finally arrives!"

I snorted at Adi's mocking tone and couldn't quite hide the quirk of my lip.

"Fair enough. Just leave that door wide open, will you? And grab the fan while you're at it, as well. Don't need him, and whoever's tagging along, catching on."

I watched Adi laugh in amusement as she wandered over towards the sofa, the sweet sound echoing around the open space.

"On it, Captain!"

The two of us worked quickly after that, whirling around the loft, and one another, in an attempt to get things sorted before our guest's imminent arrival.

It wasn't long before we both recognised the telltale sign of a car pulling up outside though, and upon hearing the engines rumble die out I immediately caught Adi's eye from across the room.

It was a silent challenge and with it there was a frenzied rush to see who could get to the nearest window first. Adi had promptly tossed her notes towards my desk and taken to skidding across the hardwood floors, whilst I had all but thrown myself over the back of the settee.

Adi made it there first, even in her heavy docs, and claimed the windowsill with an unnecessary amount of arrogance. She grinned primly at me as I reluctantly slowed my approach, leaving me to lean in close so that we could both try and get a good look in. 

But from this angle, there was practically no use. I craned my neck as far as my torso would willingly allow me and could only just make out the tail-end of a sleek car parked up on the curb. I assumed that meant Healy had arrived. 

"Can you see anything?" Came Adi's impatient voice, a hushed whisper even though we were three flights up.

"No." I grunted back, "Your fat head's in the way."

Ads scoffed at me and I didn't have to look at her to know that she was now glaring up at me. I grinned.

"My head is perfectly sized, thank you! But seeing as we’re on the topic of abnormalities, you're practically half giraf-”

Adi immediately cut her snide comment short when a loud voice suddenly trumped the usual roaring noise that went hand in hand with the large city that was London.

"Right my!" We heard.

The voice was sharp and irritated, fuelled by an obvious anger, and soon trailed off into a muffled grit. 

Adi's head snapped back to the window at the very sound of it, whilst I couldn't help but question just how exactly she’d managed to contort her body in the way she had, long legs tucked up beside her as she pressed her torso against the glass to listen closer.

The voice rang out again, sharper this time, and my eyes shot down to meet Adi’s own. 

In return, she gifted me a catty side eye- obviously enraptured by the sudden drama that had seemingly been handed to us- and I could do nothing but shrug at her in response, somewhat baffled.

I pulled away slowly when the voices didn't seem ready to rise again, and silently wished that I could've been a fly on the wall during a conversation like that.

Clasping Adi's wrist, I gently tugged her away. "Come on, you best get down there before things go sideways and we end up on the backend of it all."

"Me?!" Adi crowed back, her eyes wide in alarm as she let me drag her back from the windowsill. "Why not you?"

My face scrunched up at the very thought. 

"Ah go on, Ads. Please! You're so good with shit like this, can charm your way out of practically anything."

She narrowed her eyes in response. "I know what you're doing."

I pursed my lips together in an attempt to keep up the innocent act, already feeling a grin cropping up. “Is it working? ‘Cause we both know you’re the sweetest talker around, Wells. Could talk your way out of police custody, you like.”

Adi clucked her tongue but moved to cross the loft. “Yeah, yeah. But we both know you’re just being a coward! What, you really aren't ready to face him yet?”

I was swift to spin around on my heel to hide the truth my expression conveyed, and ignored the question altogether as I headed back towards the booth. I also pretended not to hear the cow’s delighted cackles as she began to descend the staircase.

"Just make sure the camera's are rolling before I get back! And wish me luck!"

"Luck!" I called out loudly over my shoulder before unplugging the fan and then storing it away. She was definitely going to need it. 

I busied myself with the last of my tasks afterwards, an odd feeling of anxiety welling in my chest as I went through the usual motions.

It was strange for me to linger too long on thoughts of nervousness, because I usually had too much going on in other aspects of my life. Making things a little too difficult to concentrate on the many things that could possibly go wrong.

This time around though, we weren’t dealing with the usual up and coming artist, new to the industry and overwhelmingly pleased to be invited on. No, this time we’d practically been fed to the sharks.

Because, of all the possible people, we’d just had to have landed Matty Healy.

I started to question it all again. How exactly I'd gotten myself wrapped up in a mess this big in the first place and only hoped that Adi fared alright with dealing with Healy on her own for a while.

Maybe it had been cowardly of me to send her in first but I really didn’t think I could face him just yet, seeing as it had been me that had set off the pyramid of fireworks that had seemingly burned a hole in his life.

A dull vibration pulsed in my back pocket, breaking me from my train of thought, and I found that I was very much thankful for the sudden distraction it offered.

Messages now Finnleyyy Just got back to the gallery, Teds was fine when I dropped him off! If the show goes on any later feel free to message me and I'll pick him up x

I smiled down at the message. 

At least that was one less thing I had to worry about, Teddy was safe and well, already settled in at the local nursery and in all honesty, I truly didn't know where I'd be without Finn, especially on days like these. 

I was quick to fire back a text full of appreciation before I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

It was just as I had finished clearing up the rest of the studio that I heard a sudden rush of voices trail up the stairwell, and stilled at the very sound.

It was Adi’s voice which carried the furthest and so I ran my teeth along my bottom lip before ultimately deciding that running and hiding was my best bet. So I shot across the loft floor and into the recording booth to stow myself away.

Adi didn’t give me the chance to worry excessively over every little detail that could go wrong as the group of visitors grew marginally closer. So to keep myself busy for a minute or two, or to rather calm my erratic heart, I chose to fiddle with the last of the cameras that had been set up.

I felt, more than heard, the moment they passed the top of the stairwell as the wooden floorboards of the studio tended to creak beneath added weight.

It was pretty much impossible to hear what was being said on the other side of the recording booth though, due to its soundproof walls, but that tiny fact didn’t stop me from practically sealing myself against the door in an attempt to decipher the perfect moment for me to intervene on the situation outside.

For days I’d been practically driving myself stir crazy over all of this, I knew that I just needed to get it over and done with, save myself the stress before I brought another headache on. Because I could do this, he was just some guy. Famous or not.

So with a final albeit shaky breath, I braced myself and opened up the door.

Thankfully, I was almost instantly met by the comforting sound of Adi's voice.

“Ah, there she is! Was wondering when you’d show your mug. Fancy a cuppa, babe? Fixing up a few.”

“Please.” I breathed out a sigh and dragged a hand through my hair as I wandered towards the kitchenette, catching sight of the two bodies currently commandeering our tiny seating area. 

I focused on the man sitting closest and the first thing I noticed about him was the sleek haircut he’d styled, it was clipped closely at the sides but left long on top to keep the thinning hairs going in one direction. He was different from what I’d expected, but not just because he was older, he also wore this brilliant smile when he moved to peer up at me, sincere enough that I felt my doubts ebb as I smiled back, taking in the rest of him and his fine fitting clothes which seemed to suit him well.

I dipped my head in a silent hello before my gaze flickered over towards our remaining guest.

It shouldn’t have felt as shocking as it did to finally set eyes on Matty Healy in person, not after all of the thorough planning I’d put into his very visit. But it was strangely surprising to bare witness to the way his lithe body was currently perched on the edge of our shabby armchair, the very same Adi, Finn and I had dragged back from the secondhand shop further up the main road. It felt wrong almost, having someone so obviously used to a certain luxury sat in the tatty thing.

I pulled my mind away from that last thought and focused on how I couldn't quite seem to tear my eyes away from the way Healy’s frame folded in on itself slightly, legs jutted out wide, elbows pressed against knees, and his chin cocked high. The guy’s overall stance was oddly domineering for someone so wraithlike, with hollowed cheeks and an aristocratic smile. It made him that much harder to read.

Healy’s own eyes were also hidden, so I couldn't make out the line of his gaze. Disguised behind a dark pair of glasses that I could only supposed cost more than what I’d make in two, maybe three months.

The question of what Healy might've first thought upon seeing me and the way I’d drowned myself in the oversized band tee I’d chosen that morning crossed my mind. But I was simply just thankful for the fact that I’d forgotten my knitted cardi somewhere behind me in the recording booth. Silently wishing that I had the balls, as well as the body, to pull off the outfits Adi liked to wear.

"Hiya." I finally greeted them, forcing myself to smile as I extended a polite hand outwards. "It's great to meet you both."

Even with the dark shades on, I easily spotted the way Healy's brows lifted in reply before he- rather reluctantly- clasped his own hand in mine.

I swallowed back the strained smile I wanted to give him in return and focused instead on the shake. Healy’s hands were apt, fingers long and slender, skin much softer than it should’ve been for any musician, and his knuckles prominent but wrist almost dainty. He was a juxtaposition if I’d ever seen one.

He was the first to pull away.

“Likewise.”

My jaw ticked at Healy’s sarky tone but I didn’t let it deter me. Staying professional, I turned to offer the same sentiment to his accomplice. 

“I’m Mouse, by the way. It’s lovely to have you both. Hope you got here okay.”

The other man was much merrier than Healy, practically a total contrast actually, and he showed it in the joyful way he shook my hand, still smiling away.

“You know London traffic.” He replied around a low chuckle and let our hands fall, “Lovely to be here though. I’m Matty’s manager, Jamie.”

I smiled as I nodded in remembrance.

“Got to say, I really love what you two have done with this place. Skylight’s incredible.” Jamie added and I grinned before settling into the adjacent sofa, leaving plenty of space for Adi to take.

“You saw that? But yeah, I honestly think it’s the only reason we were so sold on this particular building- ‘cause the stairs are killer.”

“I can see why! I’m dying to have something like that back at mine, but the conservatory will have to do for now.” Jamie enthused and stood up when Adi strode on over.

Skillfully, the man helped guide the wooden tray Ads had been carrying towards the coffee table and smiled when she thanked him for his efforts, the image of a perfect gentleman.

“Thanks, Ads.” I breathed out in appreciation when the girl handed me my usual milky brew, then took a quick sip.

Someone snorted as I did and my eyes instantly flew over to discover that the sound had been made by Healy, because of course.

He seemed all too amused by something and, from the way his body was still angled towards me, I could only assume that it was down to something I'd done.

I blinked in confusion before I moved to raise my mug high above my head, reading the large, industrialised font that covered the bottom of the cup. Cunt.

The studio was probably the furthest thing from a professional setting, we’d always wanted the entire space to feel comfortable, safe even. But this was supposed to be our big break and so we had been trying to convey it as though it was. But here Adi was dishing out the gag gifts Finn had bestowed upon the loft last Christmas like it was a regular Tuesday.

Still, with a shake of my head, I couldn’t quite bring myself to dim my grudging grin as I shot a narrow eyed glare Adi’s way.

"Ta for that." I voiced with a light chortle and tipped the mug at her in false cheers, before my eyes then flittered over towards Jamie, who had since stifled his own amusement in favour of taking a slow sip of his own brew. And ah, yeah, there was the matching mug.

Healy laughed to himself in the little corner he’d created and I caught the way he subtly surveyed his own cup, out of the corner of my eye, just in case Adi had got him too.

Somehow he’d managed to avoid that particular jest and I knew that the only thing Healy really had to worry about now was if there was a secret dirty message waiting for him once he’d finally polished off his drink.

"What can I say? The mugs, they do not lie." Adi jeered, a mischievous glint in her eye before she turned her head back towards the two visitors. "See you've met our wonderful Mouse then! Ain't she a looker?"

I grimaced away from the hand that reached out to grab at my chin and silently questioned what I'd done to suddenly be on the deserving end of all her taunts.

Jamie laughed at the pair of us, but even with it, I didn't miss Healy's quiet hum or the way he was now seemingly more interested in the contents of his cup than the current conversation.

"Quite. We were actually just talking about you on the way up here, mate." Jamie divulged and I dragged my attention back towards the man, eyebrows lifting.

"Only good things, I hope." I replied, somewhat uncomfortably, but smiling lightly at Jamie before I managed to catch Adi's eye.

Ads simply waved me off. "Of course! They were interested in the show- how it started and what not." She told me and I nodded, mostly to myself as I relaxed further into the settee.

"Oh, well yeah, we've been around a while now."

"Adi mentioned that you were just a kid when you started out, sounds mad putting it like that." Jamie pondered, appearing quite intrigued by the topic. "How did this all come about then?"

Usually, I liked to skirt around this particular subject, wanting to dive straight into the work and forgo most of the small talk, but I caught the way Jamie’s eyes darted around our quaint little studio. He wasn’t just asking for the sake of it.

"If I'm being truly honest, a lot of stuff happened all at once." I revealed with a soft chuckle, but it lacked any of the mirth I was aiming for as I thought back to my second year of university, the year everything had quite literally turned on its head.

"I was in between jobs and my best mate suggested that I take the Twitter account I already had and turn it into something with a bigger presence. At the time, I had nothing left to lose so I just went for it."

At least, that was the shortened version of it. I’d skipped the mental breakdown, the almost losing my flat, and the birth of my child for the sake of not looking like a total psycho.

Jamie looked impressed or, at the very least, understanding as he nodded along to my words.

"Can't say I regret it now though." I had to tack on and smiled before attempting to trail my way onto a more formal topic. "I got your list by the way- what not to ask and all that. Think one of your lot emailed it to me earlier in the week. But I just wanted to let you both know-”

I let my eyes flit over towards Healy for a brief moment before they settled back on Jamie. 

"That you don't have to worry about any of that whilst you're here. We want things to be relaxed, comfortable. I know your team was adamant on everything being a bit more structured, following the lines of an actual interview, but we don't do much of that around here. So I hope you're happy with just having a simple sit down."

"Like this?" Came a reply and I had to pause for a second before realising where the question had come from. Or who, rather.

I settled my mug down on my thigh, loosely supporting it with my hand, and looked over in the direction of Healy.

"A bit, yeah." I confirmed with an incline of my head, "That alright with you?"

The singer was silent for a long second and I couldn't help but take the opportune moment he gave to simply admire the way his fingers had wrapped themselves around his mug, mindlessly tapping away to a hollow tune.

Just when it appeared as though the silence had stretched on a beat too long, and Jamie had begun to shuffle forward ever so slightly in his seat, did Healy finally reply.

"If it's just you, then yes."

I tried not to let the reaction of how I really felt flash across my face then as I stared back at the man opposite. 

From the corner of my eye, I could see the way Adi's lips had pursed unhappily in retort and how Jamie’s expression had hardened into a somewhat steely glare, desperate for Matty to spare a glance his way. Probably to scold him for being so painfully rude. But Healy, to my utter disbelief, kept his head firmly fixed towards me, even as he pushed the dark sunglasses he wore up into his curly hair. 

It almost felt like we were in a stare off with the way I watched him for any tell that would surely give him away, slowly considering the proposition and not caring to cover up the way I could now stare into the other man’s dark brown eyes unabashedly.

From where I was sat, I could only just make out the darkened circles that rested beneath Healy’s pupils, as well as the red line that rimmed them. Their colour was far from unusual, brown, but his were not something you saw very often, they drew you in, kept you trapped. They harboured a multitude of other colours that blended ruthlessly into an array of raw umber.

As magnetising as they may have felt though, I found that I was mostly grateful to see that Healy’s pupils were of a normal size. The only thing I wanted to question were the walls that were so obviously barricaded behind them, giving me absolutely nothing in return.

"Just me?"

Healy simply stared back. 

I couldn’t look Adi’s way when I finally answered the request, simply hoping that she would somehow understand. This felt too much like a test to say anything other than, “Alright. If that’s what you’d prefer.”

I moved to push my mug onto the corner of the coffee table, allowing myself a seconds release from his stare.

“But Adi often controls what goes on behind the scenes when we record, so it’ll be harder without her there, especially with all the cameras.” I explained carefully.

"Look, just hang on a second-" Jamie tried, obviously wanting to defuse the situation, but was ultimately cut off by Healy. It honestly felt as though the man believed neither Jamie nor Adi were a part of the conversation any longer.

"Can you do it?"

His tone was almost challenging, the four words fell from his wicked tongue like a dare.

"Not the type to back down." Was all I could think to retort, my hardened gaze once again zeroed in on Healy's own.

***

The recording booth was smaller than he’d expected. A table sat in the very centre, surrounded by a swarm of cameras and microphones, all of which seemed to be connected to a variety of wires Matty could hardly even bring himself to be cautious of as he stepped past.

The table hosted an array of tech though, from computers and mixing boards to monitors and speakers. None of which Matty was the least bit interested in either.

Three of the four walls were lined with acoustic foam panels, one’s you’d typically find in booths, while the last had been turned into a mural of sorts. 

The mural was dark and edgy, a string of trees sprouted up from the ground and swept across the expanse of it, its branches winding upwards only to entangle in one another. A common field mouse sat crouched in between the trunks of the trees, its big eyes shining as it met Matty’s stare head-on. The walls centre held the name of the radio show and at first glance it looked as though it had been printed on one of those acrylic neon signs, but it was actually just extremely detailed.

Matty had to blink once or twice before he was finally able to look away.

"Who's work?" He found himself asking, filling the silence that had settled upon the closing of the booth's door. He jutted his chin out towards the far wall, sparing the art one last glance before he gave the girl his full focus.

Her eyes flitted up to meet his own before they sailed across to the mural.

"A friend." Was all she replied, but her voice had softened a touch now that it was just the two of them, Matty noted.

She offered nothing more than that and so Matty took it for what it was, nodding his quiet assent.

"Do you have anything in particular you'd like to talk about whilst you're here?" Mouse asked him as she clicked away at the computer, he felt strange using the name, even if it was just in his own head. "We've got a good hour or so before Adi comes snooping."

"I've got a million things I'd like to say," Matty let slip as he trailed on closer to the table, then forced a sardonic smile. "But I'm not particularly in the mood for a good tongue lashing today."

She looked slightly startled by his dry joke and Matty found himself having to hold back a smirk as he rounded the desk, fingertips gliding across the table's smooth surface.

"What about you, then?" He posed, not wanting to stunt their talk just as it had begun. Somewhat intrigued now. "Got anything you'd like to get off your chest for millions of people to hear?"

It was sarky, but when was he not? Though if he was being honest, Matty just found that he wanted to hear the girl talk, because for some reason he enjoyed listening to her. Her gentle accent had obviously been weakened during the time she'd spent in London but Matty enjoyed its easy lilt. It was almost soothing. He wondered where she was from, but didn't ask.

Mouse snorted, shaking her head. "Wouldn't quite say millions, a couple thousand at best."

Matty felt his eyebrows raise as he spared another glance over at her, thinking back to those eyes that had held his so solemnly. "What, even with me here?"

He was teasing, but her eyes widened briefly as though she feared she had offended him, but as mentioned, it was only a brief flicker before a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see how loyal your fans truly are, Healy."

"Guess so." Matty mocked.

***

The show had gotten off to a rocky start. I had been all too aware of the surrounding cameras and the way the menacing rockstar, sat centimetres away from me, liked to keep his stare fixed firmly on me at all times, following my each and every movement.

I couldn't quite help the way I shifted uncomfortably every time I looked up and caught Healy's eye either, or the way I’d chosen to angle my face away from the cameras to avoid looking directly into any lenses.

I was dead crap when it came down to things like this. It all became too much, the pressure to entertain, to pretend that I was fine, that I was comfortable in my own skin, to chat away like there weren't already a thousand eyes studying my every flaw.

Look, give me a microphone and any sodding topic that either pissed me off or positively enthralled me and I'd be happy to rant the ears off of any nutter willing to listen. But in scenarios such as these, I always felt slightly on edge. Teetering on the verge of falling right on over it.

‘Cause I knew what people saw when they looked at me. I was all too familiar with the pitying glance I often got spared, as well as the grimaces people couldn’t seem to hide when they walked by. 

I’d had to deal with it for years. Ever since I was a kid.

And upon hearing that, anyone would probably figure that I might’ve gotten used to all the gawking by now, especially with a toddler constantly keeping me on my toes. But ultimately my son’s presence often appeared to exaggerate the mixed reactions I received.

In truth, I’d never really been given the time to come to terms with the scars that marred my body, my face. The white lines that spoiled the features underneath.

So claiming it to be a rocky start, would only put a dent about the size of a pea into the way I was currently feeling! 

Healy was rather unhelpful too, just as I’d predicted. He seemed to almost get off on watching me writhe under his leer and his answers to the questions or topics brought up were half-hearted at best.

Really, I was beginning to doubt the way in which I’d figured this entire mess would end.

It was only supposed to be a quick and easy chat, the two of us sat there gossiping like old mates, proving to the rest of the world that there really was no animosity or underlying conspiracies to this whole setup. When in actuality, that really wasn't the case.

Time and time again I found myself questioning why exactly Healy had even bothered to come, why he had even agreed to the whole ordeal in the first place. Especially when he was so apathetic with his replies.

"So," I trailed off, somewhat desperate to save what was left of the segment- for my sake at the very least. I didn't even want to think of what sort of issues this would cause for the show. "Music! I mean, from an outsider's point of view, we never really got the whole backstory on how you and the rest of the band really met. I mean, you’ve said you started it in secondary school, but you yourself were kind of pushed into the limelight at a really young age, so how did you and the guys connect?”

Healy tensed at that particular question, his shoulders forming a more rigid line as his gaze flickered away from me for only the briefest of seconds before it returned, but it was enough to alert me to the fact that I was treading into murky waters. I tried to backtrack.

"But in all honesty, what I really want to know about are all the sordid details, life after all that crap, the answers to the things people never think to ask. Like, I've seen pictures of your clearly extensive guitar collection all over your Instagram feed, you must have a favourite!"

Matty's lips curled into something which almost resembled a smile then and it honest to God threw me through a loop. A metaphorical loop, of course, I wasn't quite sure if we could fit any sort of loop-like shape into a space this small.

But I was letting myself get sidetracked and couldn't help but question whether that was the sort of thing Healy typically thrived off of. He’d smiled, and nothing wicked or sarky had tinged it, it’d been a genuine smile. And I had to blink just to make sure my eyes hadn't been playing tricks on me as Healy edged forward in his seat, a coy grin now dancing at the corners of his muted pink lips.

"A favourite? Now that's the question to ask! Honestly? It'll have to be the '63 Jazzmaster I've got. It’s wicked, used by the Ramones on their debut album and then by David Byrne on early Syre demos. So it’s seen quite a bit."

After that, I just sat there. Stunned as Healy continued to rant about this poxy guitar he was so obviously smitten with and couldn't help but be utterly captivated by each and every word that slipped from his mouth.

Apparently all I had ever needed to get past the games and ginormous walls Healy had defensively built around himself was to simply be myself. Ask the questions that maybe only I wanted to know the answers to. 

See, I wasn't the biggest people person but I figured myself to be somewhat of a skilful conversationalist. What with my past, I’d kind of had to force myself to be. But I was glad to have finally been given an in with Healy, no matter how small. It helped the interview pass by a lot easier. 

Although the new spirit Healy adopted after that only seemed to last until nearing the very end of the show. 

In truth, I had all but forgotten about the cameras and microphones set up, the fact that people were still listening in, were watching us converse, whilst I simply lost myself in listening to Healy prattle away. Positively enraptured by the way the musician's mind worked as he explained the complexity of a certain riff he adored, or the time he'd pretended to get off in Madison Square Garden- much to the dismay of his PR Team.

"They went absolutely mental when I first proposed it. I'm telling you! Yapping about time and effort, and it being too much for the younger viewers, then the plans that would have to be put into place- all that merry shite. And I’d just been sitting there in these, these skimpy leather trousers, quietly debating over when, or if I'd ever, get the feeling back in my legs. And don't even get me started on my knob. I mean, it must've shrivelled up and die- hang on, I can say knob, right? On air?"

Looking at him in that moment, forgetting everything I already knew, it was like I was seeing this whole other person. Someone who wasn't so confrontational, so quick to defend, or easy to recoil. 

It was clear, to me at least, that Healy wasn't the image the media painted of him, he was simply human. A troubled man who truly loved music, in every sort of variety, and wanted to vocalise and share that love with everyone else. He was eccentric for sure, but sincere.

I could see that, even if it only felt like I'd only been given the tiniest bit of insight into the person Healy so obviously tried to keep concealed.

It wasn't long later when I startled somewhat upon seeing the flashing red light of one of our cameras go off to my left and immediately, I jolted upright in my seat.

"God- crap!" I blurted out stupidly as I grabbed at the headset that had threatened to fall off my head in my sudden haste. "Hold on. Sorry, got really sidetracked there- one of the camera's is telling me it's on its last legs, so we'd best start wrapping this up."

Healy deflated ever so visibly, shrinking back in his seat as he huffed a soundless chuckle.

"Can't seem to stop me once I get going." Healy widened his eyes to emphasise his point and I observed how he had hastily retreated back into himself to haul his guard up again.

I was quick to shake my head. "No, truthfully I can't remember the last time I just got to sit here and listen. It was nice not having to do all the work for once."

Matty licked at his top lip upon hearing that and rewarded me with another mirthful smirk. I realised I'd properly put my foot in it there, stressing over why I’d even worded it like that. 

Whilst he chuckled to himself at the picture I must’ve made, I decided my best bet was to hurry on and end the show, reciting what needed to be said before I finally signed off, clicking a button.

It was just as the 'ON AIR' sign above the door went off that Adi barged straight through the entrance, gracing us with her wonderful presence. Jamie was just behind her, peeking his head around the doorframe.

"Well I think I can say that that went as well as it could’ve!" He announced, coming to a standstill by Matty as he clapped his client heartily on the back. "Well done, Matt. You as well, Mouse."

"Appreciate it." I smiled up at him before tugging off my headphones and pushing away the mic.

With all four of us now crowded into the makeshift room, the booth suddenly felt a lot smaller than it usually did, and so I tried my best to disguise the way my body immediately reacted to the realisation.

"I'm in dire need of a fag though. Will you be alright tidying up in here, Ads?" I announced as I pulled myself up onto my feet, already beginning to shuffle towards the exit. I picked up the cardigan I'd left on the back of one of the chairs as I went, using it as a shield almost. 

"Yeah, of course. Glasses here wanted to discuss one more thing before they made a move anyway."

I shot an arched brow at the man in question but Jamie waved my curiosity off. "Nothing too detailed. Just some forms that need signing."

I didn't much like the part of the arrangement that came after recording, but with an understanding ‘Ah’, I forced myself to ask, "Erm, don't suppose you need me to stick around for any of that do you?"

"Nah," Jamie laughed lightly, "Go on, you're all good."

I smiled, silently praising the stars above as I nodded once and resumed my exit, tugging the cardi on as I hastily made my way over to the fire escape.

Praying that our luck hadn’t run out just yet, I hoped that no one else was up on the roof waiting for me when I pulled my feet up the rickety metal staircase. It was just about the last thing I needed at that moment.

I already had my lighter in hand by the time I'd made it over to our little makeshift patio we’d created, which consisted of a few wooden pallets and a couple of large cushions that overlooked the neighbouring buildings.

It wasn't much, Islington. It was inner London sure, and had its fair few classier joints to show off, but I much preferred what else it had to offer. Like how the hustle and bustle of the city quietened just as you lost yourself down the backroads. And all the parks that had been scattered in and around the main developments and the dozens and dozens of buildings that were constantly cropping up. How there was a pub on almost every street corner and a Sainsbury's never too far away. I even enjoyed the gentle rattle of the overground, it was all too familiar now. Felt more like home than the Isles ever had.

Looking out across the surrounding rooftops, I wondered again just why my mum had yet to leave our tiny town as I lit a cigarette and lifted the filter to my lips.

The first chance my father ever got he’d gone running for the hills and then me, myself, had upped and left the confines of our small cottage as soon as the offer had presented itself.

It wasn't that the harbour town I'd grown up in had nothing to offer. It had a sense of community, a beautiful shoreline (even in the colder months), and of course, the local rugby team.

But speaking in a manner of careers, well, unless you were breaking out on your own and had the cash to open up a shop on the high-street, then you were probably destined to either work in the local greengrocers, serve behind the village bar, or get a shift down by the docks.

You were lucky if you had a bit more meat on your bones though, because then you also had the added opportunity of getting an offer to start laying bricks for one of the few building companies. Most of which were family based.

We had the main school too which housed both primary and secondary  kids, and the local college was available if you wanted to further your education. But the closest University campus was a good hundred miles away. 

I had applied, but only to lessen the guilt I'd felt towards my mother when I'd started looking for courses available in just about any place apart from home whilst filling out uni apps.

I could still recall the day I’d finally told her I'd be leaving for London. Felt like a lifetime ago now really.

I'd definitely have to call her up again soon, to make sure that she was doing okay, even if it meant that I'd be forced to listen to her rattle on about coming home for Christmas. Again.

I sighed contently to myself and it was just as I flicked away a stump of ash that I heard someone approach.

[desertforestfic]

i am thirty years late to this but thank you @hephaestiions @citrusses @its-the-allure for the writer interview tag

how many works do you have on ao3? ten! ten fics. ha ha ha

what's your total ao3 word count? 31,294

your top 5 stories by kudos?

where i have to go

horizon

the tie

psychopomp

twirled around his finger

do you respond to comments? you know, i really want to, but it is honestly a lot of brain power to sit down in front of like fifty compliments and try to come up with a genuine response to each - so yes i reply but only in incredibly specific moods, lol

what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? DIVORCE

what's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? probably this one in which it is foreshadowed that harry gets to go be an unemployed stoner in amsterdam (draco has to get a real job)

do you write crossovers? um does a sports au count? then yes, eventually

have you ever received hate on a fic? no and i am honestly taking it as a sign that i need to step my pussy up and write some more upsetting fic

do you write smut? ya

have you ever had a fic stolen? naur

have you ever had a fic translated? no and i am ambivalent about the idea. i have sooo much respect for the folks who put in the work of translating fic for free, but the idea of not having control of what my fic sounds like in another language is a little scary ngl!

have you ever co-written a fic before? no but it's very much something i would like to try eventually!

what's your all-time favorite ship? oh probably drarry just because i feel like these are My People :) i have some pretty near and dear rpf ships but they feel more like old friends than anything i would want to actively read or create for these days

what's a wip that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? ummm one of the first things i ever wrote was like 1,000 words of draco eating a bagel in a park in new york city and then running into harry. i was real hyped about the idea until i remembered that i have spent like ten hours total in new york city and i went down a reddit rabbit hole trying to decide what neighborhood draco would live in and then was like...why am i doing this. it was cute, maybe i'd pick it back up on the off chance i ever move to new york city, but the writing already feels sooo bad to me that idk if i could stand digging it up and editing it lol

what are your writing strengths? descriptions? that sounds broad. i think i'm really good at evoking freeze-frame moments: a sunset, a landscape, a facial expression. physical sensations, too - being drunk, being cold, having a headache. i really like digging out the exact combination of words to describe sensations and emotions i myself have felt. anything like that is likely going to be the most personal part of my writing.

what are your writing weaknesses? making..there be a plot...lol. i think i can write a believable emotional arc, but i was talking to @yiiiiiiiikes25 the other day and was straight up told "i think you need to have more things happen to your characters." read me for filth.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? am i supposed to have thoughts on this? i don't speak any other languages. there's a good chance i'm going to have to throw some Old Norse loanwords into some stuff i've been working on so uhh any Old Norse speakers out there please hmu

what's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? i'm reading captive prince rn and i'm quite sure i'll have thoughts when i'm done with that :) also f1 is tugging on the hem of my shirt like an eager toddler

what's your favorite fic you've ever written? horizon by a mile :)

i don't remember who's done this due to the aforementioned being thirty years late but uhh tagging @dryrsheet @kamaela @faiell @thehoneybeet @twnkwlf-writes @marrythemonstersao3 @chaos-bear and anyone else who's feelin it

[wheel-of-fics]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thank you for the tag, @kotaka-kun! I'm trying to get back into writing and am forcing myself to get in a better fic-writer mindset.

How many works do you have on AO3?

14 (but more on FFN, from the olden times)

What's your total AO3 word count?

209.294 (442,145 on FFN)

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Unsung

Out of the Woods

Old Haunts

Turnabout

Restoration

(If we're considering legacy FFN stuff, By Starlight would fall just after Unsung, and The Ivory Tower would probably be on the list, but since it's forever unfinished I like to pretend it doesn't exist.)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Usually! Although they sometimes fall through the cracks. I am really, really appreciative of comments and try to respond earnestly, but I feel like my replies start to sound like a broken record and it's awkward.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

IIIII don't know. Maybe Burn? I almost always turn angst into a happy ending by the end of the story. It's self-preservation.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

See previous answer—can't pick one!

Do you write crossovers?

I have not attempted to yet!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I've received several passive-aggressive comments and seen some not-nice things said about my work elsewhere, but I'm not sure I've gotten any straight-up hate comments, thankfully.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do; it's usually a part of a story and not the sole reason for it (though I have done that, too).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of...

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, Unsung and maybe something else (?) (it's been a while) has been translated into Chinese.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I think I would drive a co-author insane.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Uhhhh I can't pick, actually...I'll come back to this later (I won't)

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Red Death Riding JUST KIDDING but it does feel like that sometimes. Still, we persevere.

What are your writing strengths?

Ughghgh I don't know. I’ve been told I'm good at pacing, and that balance between like inner thoughts and external goings-on. (There is a better way to say that, but I'm tired.) Um...I think I'm pretty good at sentence flow? And...punctuating correctly? I sure hope I'm decent at character development. And I like to think I bring original ideas to the table.

What are your writing weaknesses?

The ideation of it all (though this hasn't always been the case—it's a work in progress), and honestly just getting words on the page. It's so hard to turn off the editor brain I use for work, and I feel like I'm always editing myself before, during, and after every sentence. I also wish I could delve deeper into the thoughts and reactions of characters who aren't like me.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Not a huge fan. It can be OK if done well, but it often takes me out of the narrative.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I have enough trouble focusing on my current fic/fandom as it is! Don't make me think about other things!

What's your favorite fic you've written?

I honestly don’t have one. I see each fic as a stepping stone in the course of my writing journey—a challenge that I issued to myself and completed—and I'm usually looking forward to the next challenge instead of back.

I haven't been around much lately and don't know who all has done this! I'll try tagging @musicalhell @les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques @emotionalmotionsicknessxx and @rienerose (but please feel free to ignore!).

[tillthelandslide]

Happy Valentine's Day - Ross Macdonald Instagram AU

A/n: the insta au's are back baby!!!!!! Read this first please :)... cant lie this kind of turned into a gabbriette insta au xD (p.s don't hate me for using that picture 👀)

yourinstagram and gabbriette:

yourinstagram happy galentines @gabbriette and before any of you say "but she's got Matty blah blah blah" I will fight the bitch @trumanblack (ly really bestie, but I'll do it and you know I will win)

Liked by rass1975, gabbriette, trumanblack and 327,183 others

gabbriette happy galentines my love ❤️ you can have me any time and you know it... Sorry @trumanblack

trumanblack why am I being abused?

rass1975 pretty girl🖤

↳ yourinstagram ❤️

75fan um excuse me Mr MacDonald 👀

yourinstagram posted on her story:

caption: @gabbriette is making me use the healthy shit 🤢😂

gabbriette replied to your story: oh shush you

rass1975 replied to your story: save me one please 🥺❤️

yourinstagram:

yourinstagram mine vs @gabbriette ... Mine are better.

p.s i had the best valentine's day guys 👀

rass1975 can confirm

↳ yourinstagram of course you're going to say that

↳ rass1975 are you suggesting I'm biased sweets?

↳ yourinstagram maybe a lil

↳ rass1975 maybe you just make the best cookies and it has absolutely nothing to do with anything else

↳ trumanblack stop flirting in the comments weirdos

gabbriette getting kissed by your long term crush really changed you

↳ fan1 UM WHAT!!! WHO

75fan I CANT DEAL. WHO IS GABBRIETTE TALKING ABOUT?

fan ROSS & YN FLIRTING IN THE COMMENTS? DOES THIS MEAN WHAT I HOPE IT DOES

yourinstagram and rass1975:

yourinstagram The 1975 At Their Very Best, 14th Feb

Happy Valentine's @rass1975

Liked by rass1975, trumanblack, bedforddanes and 456,193 others

🔔 rass1975 shared to his story with the caption "Happy Valentine's Sweets ❤️"

rass1975 sweets ❤️

↳ yourinstagram you ❤️

75fan OMFG NO WAY

fan1 best news honestly

gabbriette INSTA OFFICIAL

trumanblack about time

rass1975:

rass1975 my sweets❤️❤️

Comments on this post have been restricted

yourinstagram yours❤️

↳ rass1975 mine ❤️

trumanblack brb just crying

gabbriette I made this happen I swear

bedforddanes WEDDING WHEN?

↳ rass1975 @trumanblack @gabbriette @bedforddanes you're all acting like you haven't known about this since valentines

fan2 SINCE VALENTINE'S ‼️‼️

yourinstagram:

yourinstagram life with you ❤️ can't believe it's already been three months

Liked by rass1975, trumanblack, gabbriette and 373,121 others

trumanblack I mean... he's been obsessed with you for years

rass1975 the best three months of my life ❤️

75fan it's been three months already 🥹 I love them

gabbriette my favourite couple

charli_xcx cuties

75fan this makes me so happy

yourinstagram:

yourinstagram hands off what's mine @jwaughsaxophone @rass1975

jwaughsaxophone can we share please?

↳ yourinstagram I guess...

pollymoney so cute

gabbriette you're welcome

rass1975 always yours & only yours 🩷

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @promocodesorry75 @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx @k4tie75 @insidemymind19 @zzzhealy @maybeiwouldlikeyou @at-her-very-foreign @not-alien-girl-v @sinarainbows @friedlandblog @momentum2023 @youlooklikeshitandyousmellabit @inhalerbea @sugerkane1001 @kurtswrldbrainrot @yukizaldi @kurtswrldbrainrot (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊, those with a line through are the ones i couldn’t tag)