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piastriheart · 5 months ago

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sweetheart. op81.

summary: brigitte camden has just moved to melbourne, australia, and is forced to begin again in an unfamiliar new academy far from home. but on her first day, she meets oscar piastri, a guiding force and her best friend. this is the story of brigitte camden’s relationship with oscar piastri, starting from year 6 of primary school (2013) to graduation (2019).

warnings: nsfw — mdni.

genre & tropes: fluff, smut, childhood friends to lovers, slow burn.

word count: 5.1k.

song: ♪ “ i wanna be yours ” / arctic monkeys.

Year 6.

I stood outside the ivy-covered walls of the Academy, watching as my mother’s familiar gray Camry faded into the distance. I wanted so desperately for her to come back, and tell me that everything had been a dream, a mistake. Our sudden move from Sydney to Melbourne had uprooted the life I had built for myself. No more shared tickets for events at the Opera House, no more running around the Royal Botanic Gardens with my friends. These treasured moments would all fade into a distant memory, and I was forced to pretend like I was OK with it, when in reality, all I wanted to do was scream and throw a temper tantrum as if I were a little child.

My heart pounded in my ears, a staccato drumbeat that made my head spin with dizziness. I was in uncharted territory, with no one to cling onto. I knew nobody here, and even though my parents had comforted me, telling me that it would all solve itself out, that I was magnetic and charming so everyone would instantly become my friend, I was starting to suspect that the opposite was true.

Dozens of other students had passed by me, chattering about their teachers and events that had happened over the past weekend. They all ignored me. I was invisible. I could disappear right now, and no one would notice, save for the teachers who completed attendance.

I tugged at a loose strand of my hair, a nervous tic I had never been able to break, no matter how hard I tried to resist it. I checked my watch, tapping my foot impatiently as I waited for the bell to ring, signifying the start of passing time, when everyone would rush to their classes. Maybe I could find someone heading the same way as me and befriend them? It was a small flicker of hope, but it was enough to illuminate the darkness that was plaguing me.

Someone walked by me, and I waited for them to disregard me, the same way that everyone else had. I turned my face away. But instead, I listened to their footsteps halt, and I heard them say, “Are you lost?”

I flushed red and stammered, “No, I was waiting for the bell, I’m not…” I angled my gaze up to meet the eyes of the person who was talking to me. It was a boy, around my age, with freckles and moles dotting his pale skin and floppy brown hair that refused to lie flat. “I’m sorry, I’m new here, so I wasn’t sure what the right protocol was. At my old school, we waited outside the gates before classes started, and then we were let in. But it looks like it’s different here.”

The boy nodded his head, appraising me. I was desperate to befriend him, even though I’d just met him moments before. “I understand. I just moved here at the start of the year, too.”

“So…” I twisted my lips, unsure of what to say.

He smiled at me, a display of amiableness. “I’m Oscar.”

“Brigitte,” I replied. At that moment, a great swell of relief and gratitude flooded me. I was so thankful for this random boy, someone I had only exchanged a handful of words with. I was sure that if we didn’t have classes together, I would die, solely because he was trying to help me when everyone else was so eager to watch me struggle. “What’s your first class?”

“Mathematics with Professor McCullough,” he informed me, and I grinned – the first real smile since I’d moved to Melbourne. “You? I’m assuming the same?”

I tilted my head up and down like a bobblehead. “Yes.”

“Great. Then let’s go together. We don’t want to be late.” Oscar motioned for me to follow him inside the school, and I trailed behind him as he wove through the halls. Everything looked the same, from the glossy ceiling to the floor tiles. Even some of the paintings and trophy cabinets were identical. It would take weeks for me to memorize everything, and once again, I felt a surge of appreciation that Oscar was my guide.

He finally stopped in front of a nondescript door. The only telltale sign that it was a classroom was the sheet of laminated paper on the wall beside it, stating, “Professor McCullough, Mathematics (Geometry) Year 6.”

Oscar opened the door for me, ushering me in first. “I sit over here.” He headed to his desk, but I waited, hesitant to accompany him in case he didn’t want me to. “There’s an empty seat beside me. Come on, Brigitte.”

I sat down beside him, placing my backpack on the floor beside the chair. “I’m so nervous,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

Oscar frowned, somehow catching what I had uttered. He had ears like a bat; they could hear everything. “You’ll be fine.”

I sighed, annoyed that he had repeated the same weary line the adults had. They thought they knew so much just because they were older, experienced more things than I had, but they didn’t realize that I was so out of my depth. I wasn’t them. I didn’t have their set of skills or talents. Nobody knew, except for maybe God, if I would be fine.

The bell rang harshly, and I jolted in my seat, taken by surprise. Oscar chuckled, but didn’t say anything. Professor McCullough entered moments later, his posture stooped over as if he were the Hunchback of Notre Dame. His white hair crowded on his head in tufts, watery eyes obscured by thick black lenses. When he spoke, it was at a dull, monotone hum. I was wide awake from adrenaline coursing through my veins, but his voice was a spell in itself, and I found myself having to ward off sleep as he droned on about geometric shapes.

Oscar jotted down some notes on the paper beside him, and I rushed to catch up, looking over my shoulder to see what he had written down so I wouldn’t miss anything. When I looked back at the board again a few moments later, everything had been erased, and Professor McCullough had started on a new problem.

I sucked in a breath, panic slowly making its way through my body. Back in Sydney, we were still working on algebra. I barely knew anything about geometry, and the professor was moving through everything so quickly. It was embarrassing, and I felt hot tears spring to my eyes as I watched the professor begin another question before I had even solved the first one.

After class ended, Oscar waited until I packed up my things before exiting the room. “Everything alright?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. I avoided meeting his eyes. “You look upset.”

I swallowed roughly, not trusting myself enough to respond without crying.

“If you don’t have the notes, or don’t understand something, you can ask me. I want to be an engineer, so I’m good at maths.” Oscar gave me a smile. “I know Professor McCullough moves fast. It was a lot, especially for your first day. Have you ever done anything with geometry before?”

I shook my head, forcing back the tears that threatened to flow. My first day, and I was already on the verge of breaking down. This must be a world record. “Nope,” I whispered, ashamed.

“I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” Oscar promised. “What’s your second class?”

I reached for the timetable that was in my pocket with shaky fingers, and read aloud, “Professor Reilly, World History.”

Oscar pumped his fist excitedly. “We have that together.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe it. Two classes with him — it was a miracle.

“For real,” he whooped, and I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound pealing off the walls and sounding bright, even to my melancholy self.

The rest of the year, and the transition to my new life in Melbourne, went much smoother with Oscar by my side. He introduced me to his friends, Isaac and Nathaniel, who integrated me rapidly into their group like I was always one of them. When I went to Oscar’s house for the first time, I met Hattie, his younger sister, and we hit it off immediately. Her quick retorts and witty comments had me laughing until I truly thought my sides would split.

Oscar wasn’t exactly a man of many words, but even in the silence between our conversations, I always knew he was there for me. We spent a lot of time together, even outside of school. He brought me to his favorite ice cream shop, and I ordered the best red velvet and caramel sundae I’d ever tasted in my life. We went to the zoo, and I joked that he looked just like one of the koalas that was clinging to a eucalyptus tree. Adding to the joke, he bought me a koala stuffed animal, and I nicknamed it “Osc”.

My parents met Oscar a month after we had met, and they told him how pleased they were that he had befriended me. In response, Oscar said, “It wasn’t out of obligation or duty. I just wanted to.”

Once school had let out for summer break in December, Oscar invited me to his second house in Adelaide, where we spent the weeks tanning on the sunny stretches of beach and building elaborate sandcastles, weeping together theatrically when the tide would wash over them.

Lying beside each other on the recliners we rented for the beach, I confessed, “I don’t know what I would do without you. You’ve made my life so much better by being a part of it.”

Oscar turned his head to me, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I agree. I thought something was missing before, but then I met you, and now I feel complete.”

Year 7.

I eagerly awaited the arrival of the next school year’s timetable, ripping the envelope open loudly over the dining table. Oscar stood next to me, a letter opener gripped in his hands. “Ready?” he inquired, a tremble present in his voice.

“Ready,” I confirmed, and we both unfolded the sheets, skimming over them at the same time. We exchanged them a second later, recognizing some of the same names and times. “We have first, third, and sixth together.”

Oscar hummed in approval. “That’s not so bad. It’s half the day.”

“Yeah.”

Oscar examined his sheet again. “I heard Professor Smith is a bore.”

“Shame. But at least we have it together,” I reminded him, a wide grin splitting my face. “OK, now that that’s over, want to rewatch Frozen with me?” Even though it was meant for little children, I loved all the songs. Oscar, trying to act macho and cool, pretended he didn’t, but I caught him humming the lyrics to Let it Go once before. I would never let him forget it.

Oscar sighed, continuing his fake act of disliking the film. “Sure,” he relented finally, throwing his hands up in the air in mock-surrender.

“Yay!” I cheered happily, and he chuckled.

Year 8.

Oscar was absent the first week back from summer break; he had caught some sort of flu that was contagious. I hated going to school without him, my classes felt unbearably boring and time seemed to pass extra slowly. Worst of all was the fact that a lot of my social life revolved around him. Oscar wasn’t an extrovert, but his calming energy allowed him to create his own tight-knit group. Those who weren’t in it still gravitated towards him. Without him, I had to find people on my own, something I’d always found daunting.

“Brigitte, Brigitte!” A group of girls chirped from a nearly full lunch table. Charlotte, a girl with bouncy brown hair and flawless makeup like a model, waved at me. “Come sit with us!”

I pushed back emotions of unease and distrust that prickled at me. Just because Oscar didn’t spend much time with them didn’t mean they weren’t good people. I didn’t interact with them much, but from what I was aware of, they were nice. It was time for me to leave the nest, and this was my first trial.

“Hi,” I said, setting down my lunch box and taking a spot next to Charlotte.

Georgiana, her right-hand woman, giggled as she looked me up and down. I had the sensation that I was being criticized in her mind, all of my flaws pointed out and made fun of, and the urge to escape overtook me. “Do you know why Oscar’s not here?”

“Um, he’s sick,” I offered lamely.

Charlotte made a noise under her breath. “I heard he has mono.”

I raised an eyebrow quizzically, unable to identify what that word was.

“Like the sickness? You get it from kissing?” Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she waited for me to recognize the term.

Kissing. My face heated up, and I abruptly dropped my gaze to the turkey sandwich waiting to be eaten in front of me. “I haven’t… I don’t know anything about that.”

Charlotte and her clique sighed dramatically, like I should be sorry. “You’re meaning to tell me that neither one of you has…You know, kissed?”

I wanted to shrink into my clothes and disappear, I was so mortified. Why were these girls asking me about such a private topic? Also, wasn’t it obvious that Oscar and I were nothing more than friends? They had to be joking. There was no other option. “We’ve never…We’re not like that.”

“You have to be lying,” Georgiana chastised, her blue eyes wide. “There’s no way you two haven’t made out yet. Tell me, is he a good kisser? I bet he is. He looks like he knows how to kiss a girl right. Andy Bellingham doesn’t.” She scoffed, crossing her arms.

I yanked a lock of my hair, the tic coming back to me instinctively as the girls waited for me to respond. I was failing horribly at whatever test they were putting me through, and I had no clue what to do. “We’re thirteen. I don’t know why anyone would be rushing to do all of that.”

“Well,” Charlotte clucked. “If that’s true, then it’s a damn shame. Oscar is one fine specimen.”

When Oscar returned to school the next week, I could barely talk to him. It wasn’t intentional, the cold shoulder I was giving him, I simply couldn’t shake off the conversation I had with Charlotte, Georgiana, and the other girls. I’d never imagined Oscar in a romantic way; sure, I knew at one point both of us would have significant others, but I’d never thought of us being a couple. He was my best friend, the person I told every secret to and fell asleep talking to on the phone.

But what if he could be more than just a confidant?

Year 9.

Oscar and I were growing up, and it was obvious to everyone, including ourselves. Charlotte and Georgiana were just the start of the insanity that would commence. With the start of ninth year, the both of us had to fend off accusations that we were “engaged in romantic activities” at least once per week. It was exhausting.

It was a struggle denying the rumors when there were no feelings attached to Oscar, when we were solely platonic friends. But something had changed between the two of us; the air was charged, and I felt myself growing more and more attracted to him. I found myself admiring his physique in gym class, or memorizing all the moles on his face. I knew it was only a matter of time before my feelings grew too much to bear, and I was terrified at the thought of losing him.

I was at Oscar’s home, grabbing myself a fresh glass of water, when Hattie intercepted me. “I know you too well,” she began, “So don’t even think about lying.”

Despite the fact that I knew I’d done nothing wrong, my palms grew sweaty and I felt faint. I was about to be accused of a false crime, and I’d be thrown out of the house, disgraced forever —

“You have a crush on Oscar.”

I blinked twice, confused. “What?”

“Don’t deny it.”

I regained my composure, trying to formulate a reply. “Oscar and I are just friends. That’s it.”

Hattie rolled her eyes and scowled at me. “I see the way you look at each other. With heart eyes. It’s as if no one in the world exists but you two.”

“That’s not true,” I protested, but deep down, I knew it was. Oscar was so magnetic, it was obnoxious. I wished every day that I had his allure.

“You should tell him,” Hattie prattled on like she hadn’t heard what I said.

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“You’ll be shooting yourself in the foot, then, because he likes you too.”

I ignored her, writing it off as sisterly wisecracking. It was much easier for me to pretend that the relationship between Oscar and I was the same, and it hadn’t changed at all since we’d met each other at the front gates of the Academy, all those years ago.

Year 10.

For the summer, I was invited again to the house in Adelaide. I was looking forward to the hours spent in each others’ company. Since Hattie’s revelation, I had slowly drifted away from Oscar, unwilling to give him any extra reason to leave me. In my mind, I thought that if I left first, I couldn’t get hurt. Yet, Oscar refused to let me go. He still texted me nightly, crafting plans to hang out. An invisible knife twisted in my gut every time I turned them down.

Oscar was easily the most good looking boy in our grade. He was effortlessly cool, and kind, and didn’t show off like the other boys in our year. I had already heard a few girls who were crushing on him, fawning over how attractive he was. They didn’t know him like I did, and I wanted to yell at them. He’s not just a pretty face.

I could kid myself all I wanted, though, because Oscar didn’t belong to me. He wasn’t my property, I didn’t have some sort of stake on him. He was on the market. Any girl could have him if she was brave enough to make the move, even if I so desperately wanted to call him mine.

I knocked on Oscar’s bedroom door, rocking from side to side impatiently. “I’m going to the beach in five minutes. Are you almost ready?” I called.

No response.

“Oscar?” I repeated, louder. Panic threaded through my voice. Maybe he’d fallen, and couldn’t yell for help. Seconds passed, and he still didn’t answer. I cracked the door open, and I saw him, lying on the bed, spread-eagled.

He wasn’t wearing anything, save for a pair of black boxers. Instead of being repulsed, instead of turning away, I eagerly devoured every inch of visible skin, frozen in place. The flat planes of his stomach, the strong muscles of his legs.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes still closed.

I jolted out of my stupor, shutting the door, struck dumb. Oscar was built like a Greek god. Holy shit.

I forced myself to swallow and erase the image that was dancing behind my eyelids. I had to pretend like I hadn’t seen anything. That everything was normal.

Arousal curled in my gut, and I let out a loose breath. Getting laid wasn’t worth it if it destroyed a years-long friendship with someone I valued deeply. Simplifying Oscar down to his looks was something the girls in our year did that I despised, but after seeing him, in all his glory, it was difficult not to do the same.

He was beautiful.

And I was falling for him, hard.

That same year was our first dance. We were finally mature enough to handle “the responsibilities that come with such a prestigious event”, even though it would be held in the Academy’s gymnasium, not at the Ritz-Carlton. I was going to attend the event with my female friends, and meet up with Oscar later. We weren’t each other’s dates. We still hadn’t crossed that boundary, between friends and more, and it was slowly eating me up inside. Every little thing Oscar did was catalogued in my mind, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I talked about him so much to my mother that she grew suspicious, thinking I was in an illicit, secret relationship with him. The opposite was true; we were still painfully, just friends.

“Just friends” was what I had to repeat, over and over, like a mantra, to myself. Every time I looked at Oscar, and our gaze held for a moment longer than it was supposed to. Every time he remembered a small detail about myself – the street I used to live on in Sydney, or called me “Bridge”, or bought me my favorite soda in the cafeteria.

It would have been too easy to delude myself that he shared the same feelings that I had for him. Neither of us were willing to confess, which left me in a sticky situation when a girl in the year below us asked him out for the dance.

I was there. I watched it happen, how she left her lunch table and sashayed (for lack of better words, because what else do you call that undulating movement girls do when they walk?) over to him. She ignored me, giving him a wide smile that was ten megawatts too bright. She introduced herself, because Oscar didn’t recognize her. Later, my friend told me that she was his lab partner in Chemistry, and somehow, he hadn’t committed her to his memory. When she asked him out, she did it bashfully, but confidently enough that it seemed inevitable that he would say yes.

I busied myself by collecting my leftover lunch scraps, not looking at Oscar. It was his decision to make. I wouldn’t penalize him for that.

“I’m sorry, I’m already going with someone,” he finally said after a few moments.

The girl’s carefully tweezed eyebrows shot up in shock. She wasn’t expecting him to respond in that manner. I wasn’t either, and I almost dropped my water bottle as I tried to take a sip from it while acting nonchalant.

Accepting defeat, the girl gave him another smile, but it was fake. “That’s alright. If she cancels, let me know.” She turned tail, her shoes clicking across the floor, leaving Oscar and I alone.

I didn’t bring it up again, and I could tell Oscar was grateful for that small mercy. We both knew the “other date” was a ruse, meant to buy time. I felt it like stones pressing against my chest.

I vowed not to give in, even if it killed me.

Year 11.

“Brigitte.”

The sharp sound of Oscar’s voice made me jump. “Yes?”

“Have you been listening at all to what I’m saying?” Oscar asked exasperatedly, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

I flushed crimson, looking down at my newly painted nails. They were dark purple. Oscar had chosen the color, because I was too indecisive for my own good. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Everything OK?” he tilted his head in concern, scanning my features for any signs of distress. “You’ve been more distant. Did I do something?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Everything’s OK.”

“You’re lying. I know there has to be something. Hattie’s been bugging me all week long to say something.” The tips of Oscar’s ears turned red. “I don’t exactly know what she means, but maybe you do?”

I bit my lip, mulling over all possible choices. Hattie had been more persistent these past weeks, constantly pestering me to confess to Oscar. I could act stupid, and say I didn’t know what she meant. Or I could take a leap of faith. “It’s something about us, but she’s vague about it. She thinks she knows everything.”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair. “She’s such a nosy Nellie,” he bit out.

“Well, is there something between us?” I ventured cautiously.

His jaw flexed. “Do you want there to be something between us?”

“Stop answering my questions with other questions,” I huffed, and Oscar laughed. He pulled me close to him in a big bear hug.

In my ear, he murmured, “I do want more.”

“More of what?” My words came out as light as the breeze.

“More of you. I want all of you.”

And then he kissed me, in the middle of his living room while a news station droned in the background, rain drumming on the windows outside. Everything was blotted out until it was just us, our lips and our souls connected.

Year 12.

It had been almost a year since Oscar and I started dating. I was so relieved at finally confessing my feelings that I felt almost weightless, like nothing could ever take me down. Oscar was mine, and I was his. It was as simple as that.

Oscar kissed the top of my forehead before the start of class. I was about to take a big exam for my maths class, and I was extremely anxious. “You’ll be fine, Brigitte,” he promised. “I’ll be waiting for you after, and you can tell me all about it.”

“OK,” I said.

“I believe in you, baby.” He kissed me again tenderly, and I forced myself to break apart from him.

I gave him a smile that hid how nervous I was. “We’re going to get in trouble for PDA.”

“So be it,” he teased. “It’s worth it.”

I rolled my eyes. “See you later, smooth talker.”

An hour later, Oscar was waiting for me in the exact spot he had said. “How was it, gorgeous?” he asked as he walked beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close to him.

“It was something.”

He chuckled. “Any other details you wish to impart, or is that it, Bridge? You were making it so suspenseful, and I feel let down.”

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I don’t want to think about it, that’s all.”

Oscar made a noise under his breath. “Yeah, I get it. When do you get your marks back?”

“Probably by the end of the week,” I mused, dreading the day that the paper would be returned to my desk. My mother was going to kill me if I did badly, and I was certain that I’d barely scraped a passing grade.

Oscar threaded his fingers through mine. “We can look together.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Are you free to hang out this weekend?” Oscar inquired. “I have a competition, and I want you to be there.” Oscar was a rising star in the karting world, and I had attended two or three of his races before. As much as the speed and thrill excited me, I was too scared of something bad occurring, so I kept my appearances limited for my health — and sanity.

I thought for a second, and said, “Yeah, I’d like to come.”

“Good. I was worried you’d say no.”

“How could I?” I gasped, mock-offended. “You’re my perfect racer boyfriend. How could I ever say no?”

Oscar laughed, and nudged me on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re aware.”

After.

I couldn’t believe that we had graduated secondary school and that we were on our way to the real world. I was applying to university in Europe so I could be closer to Oscar as he rose through the ranks of the motorsports world. Walking across that stage, seeing Oscar and my family clap for me, I felt so proud. I was so lost when I had originally moved to Melbourne, but Oscar had helped me through it. I had found my person, my soulmate.

Maybe the move hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.

Once the celebrations had concluded, Oscar and I were alone in his bedroom. My parents were already home, and his parents were drinking wine in the kitchen. Hattie was upstairs, reading a book. We wouldn’t be interrupted. “Are you sure you want this?” he repeated again nervously. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries.”

“You’re not,” I assured him.

“Good.”

My blouse was unbuttoned in one flourish, and I bared myself to Oscar. I held my breath, waiting for him to decide what to do next. “You’re so fucking stunning,” he said, his voice nearly a growl.

“I…” I stifled my protests as he bit me softly on the neck, bunny teeth leaving indents in the soft flesh. “Oscar…”

He paused, meeting my eyes to ensure that he was OK to continue. “You’re so fucking stunning, my God.”

“Not God, just Brigitte,” I jested breathlessly, and he nipped at the hollow of my throat. “Please go faster. You’re killing me.”

Oscar made a purring sound. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He obeyed, unbuttoning his own shirt and loosening the belt on his pants. Moving on, he swished my skirt down and let it pool on the floor. Both of us were left in nothing but our underthings.

In one fluid motion, he lifted me up and placed me on the bed, spreading me carefully below him. His arm muscles flexed as he caged me in, his breath hot against my skin as he began to pepper kisses again on my body. “I need to grab a condom. Then we can have sex.”

I whimpered loudly as he pulled away, walking over to the bathroom. I heard the plastic crinkle of a condom wrapper opening, and soon Oscar was in my line of view again.

“Ready?” he waited for confirmation.

I inclined my head. “I’ve been ready.”

He positioned himself on top once more, his body perfectly molded against mine. Oscar kissed my cheek as he removed my panties, tossing them off the bed to the already messy floor. “I love you, Brigitte. So fucking much. Since year 6, you’ve been mine. Only mine.”

“Yes,” I moaned slightly as he entered me, his length stretching inside of me. “I love you too.”

Oscar groaned, his head falling forward as he moved languidly. “You feel so perfect. Like you’re made for me.” He kissed me forcefully on the lips. “I’m so fucking addicted to you.”

“I’m glad,” I teased. “But it goes both ways.”

He grinned, teeth biting at my collarbones. I felt like I could have come undone at any second as Oscar’s heat penetrated my body. I was in heaven, and this was my reward for my years of patience.

“You’re the love of my life. My sweetheart, my Brigitte.”

The End. ♡

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x oc #op81 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fic #f1 smut #f1 community #f1blr #f1 writer

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werezmastarbucks · 4 days ago

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20. when a leaf turns

flowers over boys masterlist

in which Jin scares seagulls and Jimin builds a cute pyramid

word count: 4282

warnings: yes in my story street vendor can read hanmun. sue me

a butterfly is flapping its green wings around Jimin's head and you can't believe this dude. he is blind, staring through the garden with his turquoise eyes, feeling the insect.

"what colour?" he asks quickly. by the motion of his head you understand he hears it and can even locate its constantly changing position.

"light-green, the inner side of a leaf".

Jiji-Suga gets into the hunter mode. he is staring at the butterfly from the ground, his slender, angular body pressed against the stone.

"do you not see anything? is there shining at least?" you ask, "or just..."

"just nothing. i don't know what you mean by 'see'. i 'see' everything and nothing. i don't know the expression of your face, but i understand you even when you're away from me".

"like you always have", you confirm, shrugging. that is nothing new.

"this ability of yours", you begin again, "seems a little supernatural, no?"

Jimin lifts his eyebrows indifferently. if he has existed in this world forever, the notion of supernatural might mean nothing to him.

he can hear Jungkook's laughter before you. him and Jiji-Suga both lift their chins. the green butterfly disappears inside the garden, among the fruit trees that only slowly now beginning to lose leaves.

soon, you can hear it too. the sound of life. Taehyung's careful, low baritone, and Jungkook's sunny soundtrack. you share the skill of seeing Jungkook's face before you actually see it; but only because you know it so well. Monkey Prince shows his teeth when laughing, and throws his head back. only, you keep picturing him with short hair, forgetting that Seokjin and Jimin are the only ones who don't wear locks.

they appear inside the corridor. Jungkook is carrying a sack in his hands hug-style, and Tae is swinging some harness in the air. when together, they are no bigger than boys.

"Jiji!" Taehyung yelps from the corridor. he swings over the banister easily, which reminds you of his sword dance. Jungkook only softly smiles and continues his walk down, approaching you.

"you're leaving?"

"two hours", he reports, words like little peas from his teeth. he exits into the garden by the stone path. the noise they are bringing with themselves isn't pleasant to the black cat: he is trying to get away from Taehyung who bends his knees, chasing. Jimin sighs. Jungkook looks around: the habit you learnt all too well. always checking if there's a pair of eyes - or ears - around that will report the banned activity to uncle.

you can't imagine Yoongi scolding him too much. but Jungkook never misses his chance to be difficult with you.

he perches himself on the large stone you're sharing with Jimin. you have to scoot closer to the counselor to let him fit, and his thigh presses against you firmly. caught in between Jikook, you watch the royal guard in travelling black running through the garden. Jiji-Suga is pacing away from him lazily, not really scared, just irritated.

"you sure about the information Namjoon gave you?" you ask.

Jungkook has to lower his chin to look at you: too close. his huge boba eyes slide off your healing cut on the lip. he shakes his head unevenly.

"as long as he is within shooting distance, we are alright".

"you don't trust him either?"

Jimin tilts his head.

"weren't you the one who begged for him to be found?"

"and now he is getting the best out of uncle", Monkey gives a breathy chuckle. you haven't worked with Namjoon since the day he paid for you at the market. clearly he hasn't been assigned the gardener position; he was nowhere to be found at the palace; and he wasn't outside. you caught glimpses of him as you worked, alone. he is always accompanied by someone, never left to stray.

"keeps asking every little thing about you; when you arrived and why you're at the palace, and who you are friends with".

Jimin hums under his nose. his hum is similar to a birdsong.

"so don't be surprised if Namjoon doesn't make it back".

your head snaps towards him.

"no".

"you are trying to balance too many things in just one pair of hands", Jimin chimes in. Jungkook looks at you like you are in on a secret, and then rolls his eyes with a smile. you immediately report it to counselor just to be funny. Taehyung gives up. Jiji-Suga is enjoying the sun on a lying stone in the middle of a flower bed. the guard swings the harness again.

"Jungkook, we have to go".

"maybe he is just curious", you muse aloud. Jungkook's grin leaves you no more room for excuses.

"or he is a born antagonist".

Monkey gets up from the stone, and you can finally move away from Jimin's warm side. you two sit comfortably again.

the two troublemakers stand in front of you, throwing a shadow on Jimin's beautiful frame. his face feels the lack of the sun, and he lifts his nose.

"be careful", he advises.

"you keep an eye on her", Jungkook just doesn't stop smiling, whatever he speaks about. it suits him enormously. his side bangs frame his face, making him look like a true prince. Jimin slightly opens his mouth and sneers at this joke. the joke must be a hundred years old.

"no, you seriously be careful", you nod, "i have a very bad feeling about this".

Taehyung looks at you attentively, a small crease between his thin eyebrows. but the king's nephew either doesn't take it seriously, or knows something you don't:

"it's just Europeans. against us".

seagulls scream somewhere beyond the roofs of the labyrinth corridors. you haven't had a long conversation with Jiyoung in a while.

"what's that supposed to mean?" you wonder. Jungkook is insanely attractive when he is smug:

"my uncle Agust once slew forty swordsmen without lifting his own. all that, alone".

now it's your turn to frown.

"is that one of those myths about him? like where he jumps over palace walls and does Hong Kong deliveries?"

Taehyung narrows his eyes. Jungkook lifts one corner of his mouth:

"no, that is an absolute truth. let's go, Taehyungie".

"fighting", you utter out of habit, throwing it at them like your lucky charm. like a prayer. the weather is nice, sky is clear, but your mind is cast. Jungkook picks the sack from the ground and hugs it again, and they leave. no whiff of Namjoon anywhere, and you worry. you worry, worry. 21st century paranoia and earned anxiety seeps back into your brain, for the first time in a long while. one great thing about working your bones off in the garden? you stop overthinking. no time for it. now that your job has become so much simpler, it all returns again.

you look at Jimin's intricately designed profile.

"why did you tell Yoongi that i was a traveller from another world? you know it's not true".

Jimin gasps charmingly. he is staring through the garden like he is admiring it. you wonder if maybe anemones never made it here before because they don't have a scent? in that case, the Night Garden could use a laburnum.

"such atrocious lie spoken in a dead voice. y/n, are you really that terrified?"

"what you have already dug may have serious consequences".

he is really listening. his small hands, resting on his lap, twirl a small blue bugle flower you gave him an hour ago. in his fingers, it just refuses to wilt. Jimin doesn't smile anymore.

"what kind?"

"serious", you repeat, "whatever you think you know... whatever i allowed to drop, because i am a fucking idiot, shouldn't leave these walls".

"you lower your guard around us greatly", he notes.

"yeah duh".

he chuckles at that.

"don't worry", there's a smile in his voice. ocean-blue eyes move closer to you, "Yoongi is the kind of person to hide treasure and keep it in the dark until the end of times".

that surprisingly consoles you a little bit.

"don't you have work to do?" he reminds softly. you huff.

"listen to the seeds wake up under the ground?"

"can you bring over some flowers to my room, as well?"

"of course. what smell do you want?"

"lavender".

you put your hand on top of his palm. his skin is silky-soft, unlike yours. no; not the fat, not the maids' secret lotions can make your hands go back to their third milleniumm glory.

"honey, i will fill your room with lavender".

Jimin smiles gently. some bug lands into his slightly purple hair, and you shoo it away.

"i don't mind", Jimin says.

the king's party leaves, and the palace continues on without them.

life crawls quietly, days filled with steady work and gradually worsening weather. finally. maybe Jungkook takes the summer away with him at last; it rains more and shines less. Jiji-Suga prefers to spend time inside, his favourite place being the tapestry room where he first crawled onto your lap.

Jiyoung visits the Garden of the South, just like all others, to prepare it for cold times. protection needs to be installed for many bushes. some flowers are covered.

on her wrist, Jiyoung's Heart, the peas throbbing rhythmically. she observes the spot where you had planted anemones, and asks:

"have you sanded them?"

"yes".

"soaked?"

"i soaked them in your room, don't you remember?"

"right".

she hugs her elbows.

"it will still take a long time".

"i know".

"why anemones? there are more dignified flowers for the king".

you can't explain the stubborness, but it doesn't matter either, because Yoongi had already accepted it.

"it will look hideous..." Jiyoung hums, "but we could build a greenhouse for it. especially if we want them to grow during winter".

you slap yourself on the forehead. how haven't you thought about it earlier?

she calls Yu and two more girls, and they gather around, measuring the ground.

"we'll do it", Jiyoung promises. she smiles at you, "you go pick lavender then".

the girls exchange looks.

"she is bringing flowers to counselor's chamber", Jiyoung snickers, and it's the first time you want to smack her on the shoulder. Yu raises her eyebrows:

"you must have seen the ghost without the mask, as well?"

you nod, entertained.

"what does he look like?!"

"like a little chick", you shrug. three confused faces.

"chick?"

"you know. a chick. a baby chick", you lick your lips, having fun. has been a while. "ppo! ppa! ppoo!"

Jiyoung rolls her eyes. you thank them and leave to go to the Eastern Garden where alpine flowers still bloom.

Jimin's chamber on the second floor of the northern part of the palace looks out neatly on the Night Garden. naturally. once you open the window, the sweet scent penetrates it. opposite windows are Yoongi's chamber. you wonder if they used to chat like this over the yard when they were younger.

his room is spare of the extra stuff; stuff he has no need of. but the wall to the left of his bed is all spotted with ceramic and wooden masks, bright like flowers themselves, with his intricate and curious demon and fae faces. you spend a good amount of time just staring at them when you enter for the first time. his silk slippers giving him the light step of a ghost under his bed; which is actually elevated. nothing more, really; behind the sliding doors to the right must be his robes. no paintings or figurines; but the room breathes charm and mystery. you walk over to the empty corner and realize he doesn't even have anything resembling a night stand. nowhere to place the flowers.

"just put the vases on the floor", he shrugs. you shove a rice ball into your mouth and chew.

"won't you kick them by accident?"

"are you trying to insult me?" he wonders. his plump lips pout but tremble, trying to push back a smile.

"you like minimalism, don't you?"

"suppose so. can you finish quickly?" he nods at the food in your hand, eyes up in the sky, "it smells".

"well, excuse me, black swan", you move away slightly. Jiji-Suga stands on his back feet to sniff. you put the rice closer to his nose, and he licks your fingers.

"what's that sound?.."

damn, the kitty is so loud.

"oh no, don't do that. sharing food with an animal! are you..." he cuts himself off, and you turn, amused.

"what? barbarian?"

Jimin produces an 'ourgh', offended to the depths of his soul, and gets up. against the green tapestry, he looks like a piece of art himself.

"okay, i'll get going", you drop the rest of the rice for the cat, and he starts chewing it from the floor.

you bring lavender handfuls into his chamber and place them by the wall and below the window. the room looks like spring returned. make a mental note to yourself to ask him who designed his masks and whether he had a say in it.

nobody else, really, to hang out here with, now that Taehyung is gone, and you are secluded inside the palace territory. Jiyoung is constantly busy, and you have work of your own: it's been weeks, so some arrangements need changing. with coming season, they need adjustment, too. you sometimes sit by the royal stairs and look at the forest beyond, growing more yellow, wondering what the winter will look like.

it's been ten days since the company had left, and of course they do not message you on insta to say how they are doing. there's no instagram in Joseon. only, maybe, mail crows? you have no idea. or maybe they have those people like in Greece, who run really fast and carry letters. whatever the manner is, no word from them. Jimin seems calm, and you rest on that.

the chamber Yoongi had chosen for you is situated in the depths of the palace, the window looking out into the Eastern Garden. you don't know if it's a coincidence or not. it's the same size as Jimin's, but with an intricate resting bench with golden flower patterns. bed is a futon lying on the short-legged carcass of red wood. on the opposite wall, a beautifully painted scene: mountain hill, pine trees, and forest animals scattered among them. without looking closely, you will not spot them. it's a sort of a puzzle, a good entertainment, to find them all. some black monkeys, red-legged birds, serpents almost blending in with the trees, and even a striped orange tail peeking out. at nights, before falling asleep, as you listen to the quiet palace breathing and peacocks tearing their throats, with Jiji-Suga below your rib, you watch the forest, and it slips easily into your dreams.

wherever are they, and are they alright? in your dreams, Yoongi fights forty people at once. your brain is trying to show you something your ear got stuck on: forty swordsmen without lifting his own. what, with bare hands? how is that possible? in the dream, Yoongi has his hwando, then doesn't. you wake up a little confused.

you bow and push on the handle. the heavy bucket ascends slowly. since the heat went away, it's easier to function, and you don't even sweat as much anymore. it's only your back that suffers, gathering water and carrying it, among other heavy things, around. you sincerely miss that one massage Jimin gave you; consider begging him for another.

before the bucket makes it to the surface of the well, the seagulls on the roof of the compost shed get startled by something, and startle you in turn. you flinch - hand slides off the handle, a splinter driving smoothly into the side of your finger. you curse sharply, out loud, and then see Seokjin himself stumbling into the back yard.

"how did you scare the birds?" you yell.

he looks like he's in a hurry. you haven't seen him in a while. in his better robe, like he's dressed for an occasion, he is pacing towards you, looking over his shoulder.

"shouted. finally i found you", he grumbles. you notice why he is cautious: a couple of guards are trying to catch up. Jin is now running towards you like you are his safe place.

the guards look slightly embarrassed; one of them lacks the headband that Seokjin is clutching in his left hand. you can see it: tried to seize him, probably didn't tell them why he's here. but, being Seokjin, he couldn't stand for such outrage. so he probably slapped them around and bolted. Jin makes it to you, while you study your poor finger. he grabs your shoulders with his huge hands, and you sway.

he knows what he is doing.

guards freeze in their places and look away immediately. Seokjin chuckles behind your back.

"what? cowards?" he coos from the safety of your back. you can't help but laugh. the two men pretend to be very interested in the old sheds. the seagulls lazily return.

"you're the one hiding behind a girl's back", one of them says. Seokjin, who is two heads taller than you, squeezes your shoulders involuntarily,

"the most freakiest girl in Changdeokgung, by the way".

oh, you got them good. he learnt that word from you. your presence is creeping straight into the core of Joseon.

you step forward to test if it will scare them. the guards step back. Seokjin understands your idea and lets go. you jump. the guards jump back like scared rabbits.

"okay", you brush them away, "he will do no harm, he is a friend. you know that".

one of the men looks at Jin over your shoulder. then nudges the other with his hand, and they leave reluctantly.

"got a splinter", you murmur, turning to him. "see".

"leave it", Jin orders. before he says something else, you look up.

"nah. help me with water first".

he clicks his tongue and sucks on his lower lip, rolling his big beautiful brown eyes. with his strong hands, he gathers a new bucket of water and picks it up with ease.

"where?"

"Western Garden", you say, and the both of you set off.

"what did you dress up for?"

you look at his soft hair ruffled by the light wind. it's still warm, so your collar is opened.

"going to the palace".

"you missed me?"

Jin looks at you incredulously.

"little one, i already told you..."

"you're not my type either, Jinnie, but i still miss you".

he hums, comforted.

"need to find Jimin", he whispers, "as well. something happened".

you gulp in spite of yourself. and the next ten minutes become torturous. you make it to the Western Garden. Jin is unafraid to be seen with you, unlike Taehyung. because, unlike Taehyung, he has a meat cleaver and is ready to use it. he pours the water under the plants you point to, and then you can't wait anymore; you abandon the bucket by the path and go searching for Jimin. peacocks make Jin frown like he sees competition in them; he steps carefully around the birds. you always count them nowadays, scared that Jiji-Suga will really go on and hunt them. he does look like a feline who takes on bigger prey.

Jimin is found eventually near the palace temple, arranging little stones into a pyramid that has nothing in common with religion. the boy is simply having fun.

in his silk palace dress, he is squatting the way only Yoongi could have taught him; his ass sticking out, the tip of his tongue sticking out. you ask yourself if Jimin just... wanders around when the king isn't here? doesn't he have some spying to do? or whatever it is that he does in general?

"Jimin", you call.

"ye-es", he responds, a little whiney.

"Jin is here".

Jin cranes his neck to look at the pyramid. with one hand, Jimin places a stone, and with the other, lightly touches the construction with the very tips of his fingers.

"i know. i can smell death on him".

"tsk. i bathed".

"and groomed his hair", you add, to help him.

Jimin turns around, lids of his eyes half closed.

"how are lavender dreams?"

"breezy", he replies, then unbends his knees and adjusts his robe. "what do you guys say we choke all Jungkook's peacocks and blame it on Jiji?"

"i will not allow it", you say.

"they just won't let me sleep. don't you hear them? so loud", his bright eyes have expression in them even though they serve no purpose except to mesmerize. you know they mesmerize, because Jin, who isn't used to seeing Jimin often, can't look away.

you move around the tiny yard next to the temple. like three hands of a watch; then gather again at Jimin's little uneven pyramid.

"any animal noises are soothing to me", you say. Seokjin looks at you with an unpleasant glint in his eyes.

"any?"

"oh, please!" you almost shout. he grins, showing teeth. next to Jimin, he is too tall. the counselor sniffs the air curiously.

"what is it you wanted to say, Jin?"

"the witch came to me this morning", he drops it like it's a normal thing that happens regularly.

"the witch?" you ask. "which witch?"

"the pharmacist. the one who sold you the seeds".

"and?"

Jin looks at Jimin like he can help him somehow.

"she said she has a prophecy for me".

you all fall silent for a while. even the fountain nearby kind of stops dripping.

"about?"

"uh... us", he is still looking at Jimin, not knowing that he doesn't have the habit to turn his face towards the person he is talking to. Jimin simply half-blinks elegantly, listening.

"you guys? you boys?" you can't breathe.

"i think she saw Namjoon and decided something... the same thing that you kept talking about", Seokjin nods. he is quite nervous, unsure, frowns. he takes out a piece of paper from his pouch and wants to give it to Jimin, then remembers, and hands it to you. you take one look at it.

"i still can't read Hanmun", you guide his hand back to him. he purses his lips and reads:

"gather seven, unsheathe the purple flower, and the tiger kingdom shall thrive on venom. three grams of pepper after breakfast with frog sal- oh, it must be a piece of someone's prescription".

Jin looks at the both of you expectantly. you feel your nostrils flare.

"why", you start slowly, "is it that every time there's a prophecy, it always has to be a fucking puzzle?"

Jimin shrugs.

"this one doesn't look that convoluted. seven must be us? why did she come to you, Seokjin?"

"she said it's because i am the eldest. which i guess is true. i am thirty-six?" and he looks at you like you're supposed to know. he whispers,

"how old is the wang?"

"mentally or biologically?"

he clicks his tongue again. he is too rattled by it, and Jimin isn't rattled enough.

"Namjoonie should be a year younger than Yoongi", you muse. "even though in this realm, the gap between Yoongi and Jungkook is bigger".

this must be, so far, the biggest fuck up you've had. two faces turn ton you.

"in this realm?"

you grunt with a stretch, lowering yourself on a stone, and hide your face in your hands.

counselor nods.

"proceeding. unsheathe the purple flower? like a weapon? this could prove to be less obvious".

Seokjin brings a hand to his forehead.

"and which purple flower? there are so many".

"Smeraldo?" you muse, barely hearing him. Jimin goes blurry before your eyes. "but no, Smeraldo is blue".

you knew their meeting meant something. their set. ot7.

there isn't a single dimension where these seven boys together don't make up something meaningful. maybe it's about celestial fate. maybe it's cosmic and beyond you. but it makes sense.

Jin blinks several times, folds the paper and removes it.

"no", Jimin nods at him, "destroy it".

you are both surprised.

"why?"

"i memorized it. no reason for it to stay".

he puts out his hand. Jin hands him the paper after a while.

"i will burn it".

"should we go consult with the shaman?" you suddenly recall, "this place has one, right?"

Jimin shakes his head. the paper disappears in the folds of his green silk dress. it's like he is trying to resemble the butterfly he never got to see.

"the shaman always travels with wang".

you pick at the aching little spot on your finger. squint your eyes. you can see the tiny splinter under the skin.

"there are too many varieties of venom in this world", Jin says, "to know exactly which venom the tiger kingdom will thrive".

"just to clarify", you nod, "the tiger kingdom is Joseon, right?"

"yes", they respond in unison. their voices harmonize. Jin looks like he has come to terms with the idea of belonging to... the other six. although it took ruffling all his hair up.

"guess we will have to try every venom in existence", Jimin beams, although there's nothing to smile that brightly about.

you roll your eyes.

"it's impossible".

Seokjin produces a 'ha'.

"nothing is impossible for the king. i mean, he almost made a cultured person out of you".

you glare at him.

at night, you toss on your futon so much that Jiji-Suga leaves your bed and curls next to it, on the floor. tears choke you for the first time. not sadness, just emotion. you realize with shock that you... haven't cried properly here yet? sure, tears burst out of your eyes when Yoongi peeled some skin off the back of your hand; and you cried with anger after you stabbed that idiot in the black dungeon. and sometimes you'd sob with exhaustion, but those were all tears that didn't signify strong feeling. just a bodily function.

now you mean it. they fill the thin pillow and stain it, liquid snot coming out of your nose. maybe it's the built-up tension of being here for around... two? three months? you lost count of time.

in every universe, they find each other. sometimes with a gentle nudge from someone else. but they do. and when they do, they form something. and it makes you cry. your hand snakes under your light night dress and touches the tattoo that Jimin read with the tips of his fingers. seven. it's such pure pride, such pure love that doesn't involve you, and it's beautiful. you don't even care about the rest of the prophecy that much; it's the beginning. seven. they are always together. youth came back. you wish the other people, the armys who aren't time travellers, could know. that you could somehow let them know. that this all has meaning. let them never ask you 'why??' again. they must know by now.

taglist: @cerulean1riz , @kiki-zb , @mar-lo-pap , @ashyiiy , @enfppuff , @coolpeanutskeletonpersona , @jajabro

#bts au #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts imagine

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npookie0 · 3 months ago

Note

NATHAN, my king- you've broken my heart so much with the 'gone without a trace' headcanons and my dude... I've gotta ask this to save my fragile aorta- could we maybe get some headcanons of the Lis finally finding they're partners after so long? Like they find a single clue that Leads them to their Partner's trail.

Please and thank you, love your work also you dropped this -> 👑

A Trace Found

Headcanons for Killer Chat! love interests x mc who they found after they (mc) went missing

have your free therapy gays

Finding a clue about your whereabouts :

Ronin

When he found that clue, that one little piece of information he needed, Ronin through that he went completely insane, like he's actually lost it and his mind was playing tricks on him. "No fucking way it's real... after so long and I find it now? Fuckin' hell, you're playing tricks on me now aren't ya?" To Ronin it would also feel like God has challenged him, like he was the one to take you from your murderous lover and now he's throwing him a bone after so long.

Angel

For Angel it was like regaining hope, the light returned to her eyes and she wasn't going to give up now. She held onto that hint and shook up all of her contacts to get all knowledge she could.

Misaki

For them it was like a newfound will to live. It was a hint on your location, they weren't crazy, they didn't make you up with their crazy mind. Misaki was going to pour her whole heart into finding you, use any means necessary to get to you and tell you how much she missed you and ask you why, why would you leave so suddenly and not tell her.

In the moment V saw the clue on where you could be, he moved all of his sources and informants, threw money at them and follow with his own investigation. He has to find you, he has to see you and make sure that you're safe.

Finding you :

Ronin

He stood still the moment he saw your face, then he started laughing, a shaken sound mixed with some barely hearable sobs. "So this is where you were! Wow, darlin', you overdid yourself." He grabbed you by your hand and pulled you closer, buried his face in the crook of your neck. "You played your game well, took me a while to get to ya."

He felt desperate, starved for your presence. He felt somewhat panicked, scared that he fucked up to a point of you escaping and erasing every sign of yourself.

He brought you back with you and for a week he didn't lose the sight of you, he didn't want to lose you for the second time, he didn't want to lose another partner.

Angel

She broke down completely, ran to you and cried while holding you tightly. Finally you're back with her. She never felt more relieved in her life, or at least that's how she felt in that moment. "I... I'm sorry for whatever I did, but please, never do that again."

She blamed herself for your disappearance, like it was her fault for you leaving. It was normal for Maria to throw all blame at her even if it was clearly not her fault.

She would check up on you daily, ask you for calls and meet ups at her place, sometimes she'd come to you herself, she just needed to see you and know that you're there.

Misaki

"No fucking way." She dropped to her knees in front of you, wrapped their arms around you and just held on. There was sobbing and bunch of questions, but they honestly didn't want to hear the answers, they just needed to hold you for a while longer.

They asked you if it's something they did, if you left because of her. She'd think that she disappointed you or that you were afraid of them because of their job as an assassin.

They'd stick around for a while, trying to not show their anxiety at the idea of you leaving again. She would calm down after a while, but still would text you even more often that before you were gone just in case.

He held your face between his hands, standing still and stiff in front of you. His eyes were travelling over your whole form, he couldn't form any words, he just looked at you and tried to understand the situation. "It... it really is you, my love."

He'd question you about the reasons behind your disappearance. He would feel differently depending on your answers, but the feeling of heartbreak would be the same no matter of your words and reasons. His whole world was ruined when every trace of you was gone and he will let it show.

Maybe he wouldn't cage you or put security all around your house to watch you, but Valentin would keep close to you and spend time with you, even his vigilante work could be pushed back just so he could get used to having you around again. All he needed was time to heal after losing you.

They found you yay

I hope it's happy ending enough <3

#killer chat #asks #killer chat ronin #ronin beaufort #angel killer chat #misaki killer chat #v killer chat #headcanons #character headcanons #valentin viljoen #misaki headcanons #misaki katsuo #maria de la rosa #angel headcanons #v headcanons #ronin headcanons

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magics-neptunes-things · 2 years ago

Text

I've got McCabe

Hi guys :)

So this is a request from here (never been so quick in my life) and I've never write with Katie before so I hope it would suit you all!

Enjoy :)

TW : Love fight, swearing, Nothing else I think

______________________________________________________________

Being Katie McCabe’s girlfriend is something you cherish in everyday life. Everyone knows her reputation on the football fields, and you will never deny the truth of this, but Katie obviously has good sides to tip the scales and drive you crazy about her.

Your little bickering comes mainly from her Irish origins of which she is very proud, while you are just as proud from your Scottish origins. You certainly don’t have a team as strong as England or even Ireland, but your talents have allowed you to be spotted by Arsenal for many years and this is where you still play today. Needless to say, where you met Katie.

For today, you don’t know exactly when your mutual teasing started. You have learned over time to respond to Katie when she starts teasing you, not wishing to leave her the last word every time.

The problem today is that neither of you seems to want to admit defeat. What started out as childish games is nicely being transformed into something else while a certain mutual annoyance is being felt on both sides.

Your teammates must have felt it, Leah grabbing Katie during the lunch break while you almost get kidnap by a Beth Mead apparently more than happy to show you pictures of her puppy. You can’t say that it didn’t work, you are literally a fan of this little cutie.

But after the lunch break, when the training started again, it only takes a little teasing from Katie to start again. And again, you don’t want to let it pass, there’s no reason why it’s always you who gives up, after all.

The limit is exceeded just at the end of the training, while Katie asks you to please go store her dumbbells with yours. Already having yours to carry and a ball in the other hand, you answer her that she only has to get up to do it herself. "Well, at least Ruesha would have done it for me." This one, it hurts.

You remain frozen a few seconds there before turning slowly in the direction of the Irish which seems to realize despite everything what she has just said. But Katie doesn’t add anything, just looking at you from the mattress she’s sitting on with wide eyes. "Fuck you, Katie" you mumble coldly before disappearing from the room. The idea of throwing the ball you hold in your hand on her head would have been tempting and you admit to having thought about it for a few moments. But you weren’t alone and it was out of the question for you to provoke a real scene with violence to the key. "Mate..." sighs Leah once you leave the room. "Wha' " grunts Katie without looking at the blonde. "That was a terrible comment" "Shut up" In truth, Katie knows very well that she has crossed the line and she is very uncomfortable. Hurting you is never her intention, she has always been very careful with her behavior with you, treating you like a princess on a daily basis. Except when she decides to test your limits like today. It never went that far though. Leah answers nothing, content to follow the brunette to the changing rooms to go shower and change. Katie frowns when she sees that you’re not there anymore and your stuff either. "She left. Alessia brings her home. And you’re definitely going to sleep on the couch tonight" Kyra informs her before going to take a shower. The information squeezes Katie’s heart, you live together, so it makes sense to travel together. But she particularly likes to see you in the role of HER passenger princess.

It’s with her mind elsewhere that Irish showers and changes, taking her time in seeking the best solution to fix things. However, it’s difficult for her to know what to do since she doesn’t know what treatment she will be entitled to once she arrives home.

Are you gonna yell at her? Ignore her? Are you even going to be there or will she be allowed a simple post-it on your fridge informing her that she just has to go to hell?

It’s not in a safe state that Katie gently open the door to your house. The living room is empty, but your sneakers are carefully placed on the shoe cabinet of the entrance, informing her of your presence at home. But you’re not in the part of the living room that she can see from where she is.

"Babe?"

Only silence answers her, which doesn’t particularly surprise her. You’re stubborn too and usually Katie liked that about you. But not today.

Sighing, Katie drops her bag at the entrance and walks a little further into the house. She finally finds yourself sitting at the kitchen table, apparently completely absorbed in your readings. Yes, because in addition to your training and games, you’ve been doing correspondence marketing studies. Just in case.

"Are you still angry?" Katie tries to get closer to you.

But you just answer her that a breath of the nose, without looking up from your book. If only she knew you couldn’t concentrate for more than ten seconds. You were really hurt by her remark, even if you think (hope) that she doesn’t think about it for a single second. What could be worse than being compared to her girlfriend’s ex by the principal concerned?

"Babe please, can we just…"

"Don’t fucking touch me McCabe!"

You jumped on your legs as she approached you, ready to put her hand on your arm. In your heart you obviously appreciated that she tries a reconciliation and that she tries to catch up, but it’s still too early for the moment. Your hands tremble with anger when you go to lock yourself in your room, slamming violently the door behind you.

********

"I don’t know mate, she seems really upset. She surname me!"

Katie walks around your backyard, whispering softly on the phone so you don’t hear her. She tried several times to knock on the door of your room but you never answered her, worse you even blocked the handle of the door so that she could not join you.

Leah, on the other end of the phone, has to admit that she is impressed by the strength of character with which you stand up to Katie. But Katie is still her friend and she obviously wants you to make up.

"At the same time, you compared her to your ex. Anyone would have taken it badly. I would have probably killed you."

"I know, Lee. But I can’t go back to the past, what do you want me to do?"

"Apologize?"

"She won’t listen to me, she won’t even let me in the same room as her."

"The good news is she didn’t strangle you" Leah comments with amusement.

"Not yet" answers Katie with a gloomy air.

"Let her calm down a little and in the meantime prepare an apology in good form"

"What do you mean?" asks Katie, mechanically looking up at your bedroom.

"Go get her some flowers, make her a candlelight dinner… what you know will please her."

"I have another idea" ended up answering Katie after a few seconds of reflection.

********

The night has fallen for a little while when almost timid blows are again thrown against the door of your bedroom. You sigh as you hear Katie’s voice rise from behind the door.

"I know you’re still very angry with me, but can you meet me at the livingroom please?"

You roll your eyes without answering, sitting on your side, back to the door. Now that the anger has dissipated, you realize that you were also hurt by the Irish comment. So you decide not to go. At least that was before you got a message on your phone.

Katie 🍀❤️ Baby please?

You let out a big sigh before you get out of bed. With your hands in yours (Katie’s) training pockets and your face frown, you finally leave your room. After moving the chair you had placed under the handle so that she could not enter.

When she hears your bedroom door open, Katie almost teleports to you.

"Can you close your eyes?"

"I’m not in the mood, Katie" you grumble in a low voice.

"Please" she whines.

You stare at her for a few seconds before sighing again and obeying. You let her take both hands to train you to the living room, stopping in the free passage left by the two sofas installed in the living room. Without letting go of your hands, Katie whispers

"You can open them"

You blink twice to regain clear vision and remain speechless in front of what was previously your living room. Katie installed cozy plaids and cushions on the sofa, she lit your fireplace and decorated the room with many Harry Potter goodies. You’re a fan of it, defending your house, Ravenclaw. Needless to say, the one you share your life with is from another house, which you confirmed when you forced her to take the test. Needless to say which one. (Slytherin)

On the coffee table Katie prepared bowls with several snacks and cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. Everything looks like one of those photos that are on Instagram. Well, almost. Because in these photos, there’s not Katie McCabe looking at you with as much apprehension as if you were a bomb ready to explode.

"I’m sorry I was stupid like that and I hurt you. I didn’t think about it and you have no idea how much I blame myself. I should never have said that when I haven’t thought about my ex in forever and even less since we’ve been together. I mean, of course we see each other when we’re training on the national team, but that’s it. She has nothing to do with you. I’m so sorry, Baby, I swear."

Katie rambles a little bit and you get to see the nervousness behind her clumsy speech. And it makes you feel terribly tender. Realizing that she still has your hands in hers, Katie gently pulls on it to draw you a little closer to her.

"I’m not just angry. What you said is hurtful, too, Kat."

"I know" she whispers, dropping one of your hands and putting hers gently under your chin. "But I don’t mean a word of it. No one can match you."

Your gaze in her blue eyes is enough to convince you of her sincerity and despair at the idea that you may not forgive her. It’s that side of Katie that you fell in love with as well, that part that she shows almost nobody. Katie is a loyal and attentive friend, which people know as well. But she is also a tender woman who enjoys cuddling with her girlfriend. You.

"I love you so much" she adds after a few seconds, pressing her forehead against yours. "Please, forgive me."

"Okay" you end up answering softly.

Her smile is so great of joy and relief that you can’t help but smile back.

"But on condition that we watch the first film" you add, pointing to the television with a nod.

"Anything you want."

Katie hurries to make you settle into the couch, perhaps doing a little too much by hurrying to bring a stool so that you can put your feet on it. But you let her, amused by her behavior. She then runs to dim the light in the living room, hands you a cup of hot chocolate and a glass of water if « the chocolate is too chocolate ». She tenderly wraps you in a plaid, asking if you want a cushion and arranges the food bowls so that you have everything near you.

"Are you missing something?" Katie asks, looking closely around her.

"Yes" you answer with a smile.

"What?"

"You."

Bowing an eyebrow, you lift a corner of the blanket in which you are wrapped so that she comes to settle next to you. What she does smiling, even accepting that you shift to allow her too to put her feet on the stool with you. After making sure again that you didn’t miss anything, Katie launches the film and you gently lean your head on her shoulder when she puts her arm around yours.

Ten good minutes passed when you look up at Katie’s face, lit by the lights of the television.

"Babe?" you call her gently, making her look off the screen.

"Yes?"

"I love you too."

A soft smile is born on her face and you would swear that it will remain there until the end of the evening. Including when she leans over you to kiss you right now, then every other time during the movie.

Katie McCabe may be a fool, but she’s your fool.

________________________________________________

So… Katie McCabe is a Slytherin, what do you think? 😂

#woso x reader #woso imagine #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe imagine

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themoonlitquill · 5 months ago

Text

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (5/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; Hello, hello! 😊 Here is the 5th installment of this lovely little fic of mine! Hehe. There’s some BIG info drops in this one and I went back and forth and back and forth about 50 times whether what I wrote was the right call! If that makes sense lol. But then I decided to just go for it and let it flow, and I THINK it turned out pretty good! I hope so anyway, AH! Either way, I hope you all enjoy! 🩵

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼�� 𝗮 𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹 (𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁, 𝗜 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿), 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝗱.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ; 3732.

Azriel had never known what panic felt like until he witnessed Ariadne - the infuriatingly stunning little thing - start to go headfirst into a free fall, legs kicking wildly and small hands looking for something to hold onto; there was a sharp tug inside of him and before he could even register his own actions, he was in a deep dive towards the overlook and then his hands were firm at her waist to bring her back from the edge.

She was incredibly light and held a familiarity that made him ache, the grip of his fingers tightening on her hips almost instinctively as if she were going to disappear if he let go. He didn’t understand it, but there were no signs of irritation like he assumed.

Only a distant longing that did irritate him; he had no need for anyone, not when he had been discarded so many times before. It wasn’t something he was too keen on.

It led to emotions that hurt, which meant weakness.

And that wasn’t allowed anywhere in his life if he could help it.

Though, the youngest Archeron sister certainly was throwing a wrench in everything he had built. Especially with the way she was looking up at him; doe-eyed and innocent and so fucking pretty.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing? You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” Azriel searches her expression and blatantly ignores the way his shadows respond to his name in her gentle whisper. “What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?”

There was no answer for a moment and he watched the way her brow drew together, creating a wrinkle between them, and how she seemed to be thinking over what she wanted to say. He could practically see the gears turning in her head.

“If I’m going to be cooped up here, I might as well enjoy the view and since you failed to notice,” a huff leaves her lips. “I didn’t exactly gain the height my sisters did.”

It was ironic, really.

Azriel was known to be observant, to stick to the dark and hide, to gather information and take note of things that others might miss.

And she thought he wasn’t aware of her size. It made him want to laugh.

“No, you didn’t,” he takes a breath and realizes he was still holding onto her. “And no one said you had to stay in the house all the time,” he falls silent, then reluctantly releases her, an absence weighing down heavy that he - again - didn’t understand. “If you want to leave, you should ask.”

There was skepticism written all over her face and truth be told, he couldn’t blame her for it; Ariadne, Nesta, and Elain had been kidnapped in the middle of the night, taken to a foreign land, thrown into the Cauldron - against their will - with no certainty that they would survive, Made into High Fae, and then brought to a house carved into the side of a mountain with the only way in or out being thousands of stairs.

If Azriel were any of them, he wouldn’t believe it either.

“You’re not a prisoner here.”

Ariadne’s shoulders loosen a fraction and a soft sigh follows. “It feels like I am.”

His spine stiffened and it was as if he took on more weight. The weight that she no longer held.

It was easy to read between the lines when one of the main aspects of being a Spymaster was to do just that and it was even easier when that person was standing right in front of him with every single emotion on full display. Ariadne was very expressive physically, which gave him the upper-hand and allowed him to deduce that what she communicated mind to mind was merely surface level.

There were layers to her, many of them, and a lot of them were buried beneath walls that he was sure she didn’t even know she had.

“Do you like to fly?”

Azriel blinks and stares at her for a moment, a little taken aback at the sudden change in subject. “What?”

Her mouth twitches. Why won’t you smile?

“Do you,” she starts and then pauses, head tilting as warm honey roams - slowly - over the vast expanse of his wings. “Like to fly?”

He resists the urge to move under her scrutiny, not used to someone looking him over the way she was. It was the last thing he expected and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. “Long or short answer?”

“Whichever you’re the most comfortable with, but if I had to choose, it would be the long one.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline - finding himself wondering why she even cared about it - and quickly composes, but not before noticing the genuine curiosity displayed across her face, mixed with a subtle hint of amusement. Full of surprises, aren’t you?

Azriel flicks his gaze upwards, a bit of serenity settling into his bones at the sight of cloudless cerulean. “Flying is an escape from everything. It’s freeing and powerful at the same time,” he inhales deeply, catching the familiar notes of sandalwood and jasmine that forever reminded him that he was home. “I was… without it for a while and it made me appreciate it that much more once I got it back,” his eyes returned to hers. “So yes, I like to fly.”

“Are you fast?”

He smirks. “Yes.”

Ariadne hums, lips twitching again and he zeroes in on the movement. “Are you faster than Cassian?”

“Yes,” his wings shift slightly. “I’m sure he’d disagree, though.”

“Prove it.”

He lifts a single brow inquisitively. Was she… teasing him? This was new. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

Mischief threads into her expression and she gestures to the sky with a small jerk of her chin. “You could challenge him to a race. I’ll be an unbiased judge,” her eyes flit back to him. “He won’t have anything to disagree on then if you win.”

“What do I get when I win?”

She shrugs in nonchalance. “Depends on what you want.”

Azriel watches her for a moment, considering in quiet contemplation before the smirk he wore deepens. “I’ll think of something,” his head inclines towards her, a bit of his own curiosity weaving into hazel. “Who are you betting on?”

“That defeats the purpose of me being an unbiased judge,” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t you agree?”

His arms cross over his chest, shadows swirling around his neck, as fleeting as vapor. It seemed they agreed with her. Traitors.

“I agree,” he relents and Ariadne’s lips curve a fraction, not quite forming into a smile, but on the brink of one. Something tugs in his chest and he swallows dryly, a million different thoughts in his mind - that he outright refused to acknowledge - and he forces himself to look away, to focus on anything other than her, which is quickly deemed impossible.

That almost smile had done something to him, something that was even more impossible than his inability to stray his attention too far from her; it twisted like a knife, sharp and grating, doing everything it could to alert him to what was happening, what it wanted him to realize, and he fought it at every turn.

His shadows begin to coil tightly around him, restless, irritated, and his jaw clenched as he reeled them in. Enough, his gaze hardens. She’s… different. That’s all. Control yourselves. Now.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Ariadne notices the sudden shift in the Shadowsinger’s demeanor and it brings her nothing but confusion. Was it something I said? Her head tilts, eyes following the erratic movements of his shadows, almost like they too were put off by how quickly the flip had switched.

Everything had been fine a few minutes ago, so what happened? What had she done to warrant the lack of warmth in his eyes? It felt wrong and she didn’t know what to do to fix it.

She takes a tentative step forward just as Azriel steps back and her heart twists before dropping to her stomach.

What did I do?

“Azriel?”

No answer.

He looked like he was in pain and she couldn’t figure out why.

“If this is about earlier, I didn’t mean to write off the danger I put myself in. I just,” she blinks, swallowing thickly. “I wanted to see. That’s all. I’m sorry,” her hand lifts, as if she were going to reach out and try to touch, but she thought better of it and it falls back down to her side. “I don’t want you to be angry.”

Why isn’t he saying anything?

There’s a tic in his jaw and something unknown in the deep-set furrow of his brow, extending to thread into the planes of his face and she wanted to make it better.

She just didn’t know how.

“I’ll bet on you,” Ariadne watches as that pained expression turns into one of torment and it felt like she was losing what little grip she had on the situation. Was she too playful? Was she out of line somehow? She didn’t understand and she wanted to. Desperately. It seemed that everything she wished to know was right out of her reach - all of it was - and even when she thought she was making progress, it went sideways and made her have to start over again.

Against her own logic, she takes another step and Azriel retreats with a flash of regret in golden hazel, lips parting slightly. The questions swim in her eyes and his head shakes almost imperceptibly before the shadows that swirled around him began to swallow him whole.

Don’t leave, please! Her bottom lip quivers as another sharp twist pierces behind her ribs and she realizes she hadn’t projected her words to him. “Azriel, wa-!”

He was gone.

She was too late.

Ariadne sucks in a breath and stares at the spot where he had stood only seconds ago with no semblance of what had happened or why. She was confused. Hurt. What had she done? None of it made any sense and she wanted to rip her hair out with how infuriating this all was. Why was no one telling her anything? It wasn’t a big ask and it wasn’t like she was going to use any of the knowledge for nefarious reasons; she simply wanted to know things. She always had. Learning was a crutch for her and now she wasn’t even allowed to have that.

How is any of this fair? How is any of this okay?

Her vision becomes watery, everything blurring together in a haze of despair that claws at her insides until she’s left raw and bleeding. I don’t deserve this. I don’t. I didn’t ask to be here. None of this was meant for me. I don’t understand. Make it go away. I don’t want it.

The hurt wouldn’t listen, settling down inside of her as a continuous presence and making each breath she took feel like a thousand pins and needles. Sticking. Poking. Go away, go away, go away.

She places a hand over where her heart laid beneath and closes her eyes to focus on diverting it elsewhere, knowing that if it stayed too much longer she would fall into a puddle of tears and leave her more broken than she already was.

You’re fine. You’re okay. Breathe through it, Ari. Don’t let it in. You’re fine. You’re okay.

Just breathe.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

“You look like shit.”

Azriel’s head snaps up to find Cassian grinning at him and he wants nothing more than to punch it clear off of his face - maybe even break his nose in the process - but he manages to restrain himself, even as his hands clench into tight fists. “What do you want?”

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me,” the fellow Illyrian holds up his own hands in a placating manner, having noticed the thinly veiled anger simmering beneath the surface of his brother, waiting to unleash itself. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing. What do you want, Cass?”

Cassian snorts, eyes rolling. “Yeah, not buying it,” he crosses the room and takes a seat. “I’ve known you for centuries and you think I don’t know when something is bothering you? Try again.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Azriel straightens himself, the entirety of his posture stiff. “Drop it.”

“When has that ever been my strong suit?” The poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well and he frowns. “Seriously, Az, what’s wrong with you?”

“I said it’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously something. You look like you’re ready to go on a murder spree.”

Azriel sighs heavily and squeezes his eyes shut in the hope that the hint will be taken this time and he’ll go away. “I’m not going to discuss it with you.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad. I won’t leave until you do.”

As if to further prove his point, Cassian adjusts his position until he’s comfortable and levels him with a look that made it clear he really wasn’t going anywhere. Azriel sighs again, though he remains silent, refusing to dive into it when he wasn’t even sure about it himself.

“Is it Mor?”

He scoffs. “No.”

“Is it Amren?”

“No.”

“It’s Ariadne.”

Fuck.

Azriel tenses as Rhysand strides over and Cassian is utterly confused. “Ariadne? Isn’t that one of Feyre’s sisters?”

Fuck.

“She is,” Rhys looks at the Shadowsinger with a subtle understanding. “She’s also a Daemati. Extraordinary really.”

Cassian raises a brow. “A Daemati? No shit,” he releases a breath. “Is that what’s bothering you? Did she read your mind or something?”

“She isn’t powerful enough for that yet, but she can communicate pretty well,” the High Lord rests his arm on the mantle of the fireplace, watching the flames crackle and pop. “However,” his violet gaze flicks to Azriel. “That isn’t the issue here.”

A silence fell over the three and Azriel was tempted to disappear just as he had on the overlook, unwilling to face something that he didn’t deserve.

“Az-“

“No,” his voice is low, firm, slicing through the tension like a blade. “We are not talking about this.”

Cassian’s eyes volley between the two of them and he knew he was missing something important. “What is the issue then?”

“They’re mates.”

Azriel stood in a flash, hazel eyes blazing pure gold. “That’s enough,” his shadows were whipping around wildly, buzzing with a violent energy that he needed to set free lest damage be done that he wasn’t in full control of. “Don’t say another word, Rhys.”

“Wait, what?” Cassian shakes his head. “One of you needs to explain what the hell is going on,” he focuses on the Spymaster. “You found your mate and didn’t say anything? Why?”

“Because she isn’t,” Azriel’s glare returns and directs it at Rhys this time. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhys tilts his head. “Don’t I?”

“No, you don’t,” he snaps, venom dripping from each word. “Stop trying to make something out of nothing.”

“It isn’t nothing, though, is it?” Cassian interjects. “Or else it wouldn’t be affecting you like this.”

“Both of you need to drop this. Right now.”

Rhysand gives a knowing look. “You’re refusing to acknowledge what you’ve known from the very beginning and it isn’t going to do you any good to ignore it,” he lowers his arm to his side and turns away from the fire. “You feel it every time you’re around her. The pull. There’s no reason to deny it.”

“It doesn’t mean anything. She’s,” Azriel averts his gaze. “She’s different. That’s all.”

The High Lord chuckles. “How many times have you told yourself that?”

More than I can count.

“Doesn’t matter. Nothing snapped into place. It isn’t a mating bond.”

“Because you aren’t willing to accept it.”

“Because I don’t fucking deserve it!”

This silence is louder than the last; it weighs down in the room like a plague of darkness, thickening the air and making it more difficult to breathe properly. The shadows that were once ready for war, had now receded and were wrapped around Azriel, nearly shrouding him entirely. He wanted to disappear and wallow in self-deprecation until he had convinced himself that this was all a lie.

It wasn’t possible and he would be a fool to believe otherwise.

He was over 500 years old and there was no chance that Ariadne Archeron was fated to him by the Mother. She was too soft, too kind, too beautiful. She was enigmatic and intelligent. Curious. Self-sufficient. Even a little eccentric. It wasn’t possible.

Azriel avoids looking directly at them, not wanting to see the pity in their eyes. He didn’t need anyone feeling sorry for him. The entirety of his life had been spent alone - romantically, that is - and there was no reason for it to have changed so suddenly.

“I didn’t think I deserved Feyre either,” Rhys breaks the silence, his voice much quieter than it had been before. “I still don’t,” he pauses. “But I love her and by the Cauldron, she loves me too. I’ll never understand why and a part of me thinks that I never will,” he takes a breath. “If you didn’t feel anything, you wouldn’t have asked me to help Ariadne learn how to hone the skills of being a Daemati. That in itself proves that you deserve it. You did something for her without her knowing, simply because you wanted to. Selflessly.”

“She’s too good for me.”

“And Feyre is too good for me. Want to try that again?”

Azriel deflates and falls back into the chair, reaching up to rub his fingers across his forehead. “She’s been through too much already and I’m not going to add to it and make it worse. There’s no reason to say anything more about it.”

Cassian frowns. “I think that’s a mistake, Az,” he sits forward. “How are you going to feel if she finds out from someone other than you? That would be worse.”

Rhys hums in agreement. “It’s better if it comes from you,” his lips curve into his signature smirk, stars twinkling in violet. “I only spoke with her once and easily caught on to how smart she is, which leads me to believe that she’s probably more understanding than you think.”

“I can’t,” he shakes his head and finally lifts his gaze to his brothers’. “I can’t.”

How could he? After everything he had done. After all the horror he had endured, the pain he had inflicted. The blood that dripped from Truth-Teller, staining the ground and forever engraved into his soul. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

The few times he had been around the youngest Archeron only further proved to him that he was the furthest thing from what she needed; he would drag her away from the light that emanated from her and there was no way he would ever be able to forgive himself for doing that to her. She was special. She was something more than all of them combined.

“She deserves more than me.”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Silence is not empty.

It is the weight of breath against my lips,

The hush of wind curling around my skin,

The press of a heartbeat against my palm.

I do not hear the rain,

I taste it, cold and clean,

Watch it chase itself down the glass,

Let it weave its fingers through my hair.

Laughter lives in the crinkle of their eyes,

In the parting of their mouths,

In the way their shoulders shake,

Like ripples on water.

I do not hear the stars,

But I see how they tremble,

Tiny pulses in the vast dark,

A silent song only I can read.

I have lived in the quiet for so long,

But the words still hum beneath my skin.

And when I press ink to paper,

They spill, soft and steady,

Like a secret finally set free.

Ariadne sets the quill down and trails the tip of her finger along the edge of the notebook, reading over what she had written and feeling a sense of melancholy settle in her bones. She wasn’t sure if any of it made sense, but she supposed that was the beauty of poetry; it wasn’t linear.

She could put her inner-musings down in black and white, conveying her emotions in a way that was just for her. No one else had to see it, no one else had to know. It gave her some relief from keeping everything bottled up inside and it was a liberating experience.

But did it have to come across so… sad?

Her lips pressed together in a thin line as she waits for the ink to dry. Am I sad? Sort of, she frowns. Am I angry? Sort of, the frown deepens. Am I lost? Yes, she reaches up and pinches the bridge of her nose, a soft puff of air escaping. But I don’t want to be.

If only she had a say in the matter.

You do, Ari. It’s your choice, isn’t it? You control what you go through and that means you can control your own emotions too.

Ariadne sighs and smooths the pad of her thumb across the letters, not seeing any smudging, which prompts her to close it and set it on the nightstand. If it’s all my choice, then why do I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing? The thought entered her mind before she could stop it and it only aided in heightening the confusion, making her head spin and she was surprised that her sanity was still intact.

Especially after what had happened with Azriel earlier.

His behavior didn’t make sense and truth be told, there was no way of knowing where to begin to make sense of it.

And the last thing she wanted was to get into it.

Again.

You should sleep. Talk to him tomorrow, she swallows and pulls the blanket up until it’s tucked underneath of her chin, effectively cocooning herself in warmth. Deal with it another day. You do this every time. Why do you constantly overthink everything? It obviously isn’t doing you any good.

She takes a breath and closes her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the plush mattress and satin sheets.

Silence is not empty,

Only lonely.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites , @tele86 , @missxmarvelous , @herondale-lightworm , @kabekusa , @fr0stf4ll .

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daemour · 7 months ago

Text

banner by @kwanisms

✿ Title: I Wish You Roses

✿ Pairing: platonic - Wooyoung x f! florist reader

✿ Genre: Angst, hurt/slight comfort, T for Teen, hanahaki au, florist au, established relationship (wooyoung and unnamed character)

✿ Word Count: 1570

✿ Warnings: Mentions of blood, implied risk of death, light descriptions of the flower growth in the body

✿ Summary: Although you shouldn't have, you fall in love with the customer buying flowers for his wedding. Choosing between your love and the surgery is the easiest choice you've ever made.

This is written for the title exchange collab, and my title was given by @mingsolo <3 I hope I did it justice even though y'all were not made aware of my idea shift LOL

“Hi…I’m here to pick up an order for a wedding. It’s under the name Jung.” Wooyoung walks into the flower shop he’s too familiar with. The shop owner greets him with a casual smile, her hair falling in messy strands around her face.

“Hello, I have your order ready in the back,” she hums, her face calm. Seeing it pinches Wooyoung’s heart. As he waits for her to return, he glances around. Not much has changed since the many weeks he’s last been in. The flowers all remain the same.

But, if he looks a little closer at the register, the picture of him, his fiance, and the owner holding their initial bouquet idea has disappeared. It sends a sharp pain through his body and his smile turns tense.

“Why do you look like someone just kicked you in the shins?” The shop owner chuckles as she comes out with a large cardboard box filled to the brim with roses. “Shouldn’t you be happy? The wedding is this weekend, if my sticky notes have informed me correctly. Not sure why I have a sticky note with the date, though…”

Her voice trails off in thought and Wooyoung chuckles politely. “You’re invited to the wedding, remember? We wanted you to come.”

Her eyes brighten. “Oh, I must’ve totally forgotten! I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s gotten into me…I will definitely be there, though! Just text me the date and time again, and I’ll show up.” Her face morphs again back into a look of concern. Wooyoung loves just how expressive she can be. “Now, that didn’t answer my question. Why do you look so sad?”

Wooyoung debates for a long moment before heaving a sigh. “A friend of mine…recently went through something and I just wish I could be there for her. But…she doesn’t remember exactly who I am to her.”

The florist’s face falls, her eyes widening. “Oh…that’s terrible. But I’m sure, deep down, she feels warmed by your efforts.”

Her words are comforting, but hollow. She doesn’t know just how untrue her words are.

Wooyoung’s lips pull into a crooked smile. “I will choose to believe you,” he finally settles on saying.

—

The bell of the flower shop rings once more as Wooyoung walks in, his face flushed pink from the cold weather. “Hi,” he greets you like an old friend. And perhaps, at this point, you’d be considered one. With how often he comes into your shop for his wedding flowers, you probably see him more than your own family.

Against your will, you can’t help but to have developed a sort-of crush on him. With how kindly he smiles at you, asks about your day, and tells you about his life, it was hard not to.

But almost ironically for you, or perhaps it’s quite fitting, flowers have started blooming around your heart. Carnations, dahlias, and most fitting of all, poppies.

At first, they started slowly. You didn’t even notice it for months. A lingering cough, a petal here and there in your mouth, but you worked in a flower boutique. Finding petals in your mouth is expected. But one day, on a day the shop was closed, you woke up with a sudden urge to throw up.

The surprise you felt when flowers piled up in your toilet. Your mind raced as you tried to figure out exactly who caused this. Perhaps, deep down, you knew. You didn’t have many friends, and the ones you did have were not crush-material. And who else made you smile so softly if not your engaged customer?

It was probably because he was married and you knew from the start he was unavailable that made it develop so slowly. You had written it off as some light crush that you’d get over, but every time he smiled at you and brought you a coffee, the stems growing out of your heart stabbing into your lungs just a bit harder.

Curse Jung Wooyoung for being so kind, so friendly. You wished he wasn’t so social, that he would come in, finish business, and leave. But he’s gotten an idea in his head that the two of you are friends, and God, you want to be. You want to be able to laugh with him and his fiance, a kind woman who always greets you with just as much enthusiasm. You can’t bring yourself to hate her, she makes just as much an effort as he does.

If she was mean, rude, standoffish, maybe you wouldn’t hurt so much. But although she’s shy, she tries just as hard.

Maybe that’s why when she comes by herself, to finalise the wedding flowers without Wooyoung because “he does so much for me, and I want to surprise him”, and you throw up flowers across the counter, she doesn’t become upset at the realisation you’ve fallen in love with her husband-to-be.

“He’s nice to everyone,” she hums, patting your back and handing you tissues. “It’s hard to not fall in love.”

“Why are you being so nice?” you rasp out. “You’ve basically found out I fell in love with your fiance.”

She laughs, a tinge of understanding in the light tone. “I would be a hypocrite if I was upset over it. Before I met Wooyoung, we were in very similar situations. There was a man I loved, and he loved someone else. I understand more than I let on.”

The pinch in your lungs grows more. “Did you…did you pick the surgery?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her expression shift to one of surprise. “I did,” she admits after a long moment. “I didn’t want to say it because I don’t want to pressure you into it. No one should be pressured to partake in a surgery.”

You cough again, blood splattering on the glass counter. “I want to, but I kept putting it off. I…don’t know why.” You rest your head against the cool glass.

“I understand…” she hums, handing you some water. “It’s nice having someone to love. Even if they don’t love you back.”

You wipe your eyes carefully, your breath tasting of flowers. “Yeah…” you concede tiredly, “it’s just a warm feeling sometimes. I can’t shake it.”

She opens her mouth to say more, but before any words can exit her mouth, the store bell jingles. You move your gaze up and your breath catches in your throat and the plants growing in your body make you choke on your blood. Jung Wooyoung, in all his glory, stands in the door. His expression shifts from happiness to one of concert, his brows knitting together and mouth dropping open.

“Are you okay?” His voice is tight with worry as he hurries forward, reaching out to try and help.

As much as his presence makes the ache in your heart ease, it also heightens the pain. His fiance reaches out and grabs the edge of his sleeve to keep him from hurting you further involuntarily.

“Is it…” Wooyoung’s voice trails off as the realisation hits him at the same time.

You shake your head almost imperceptibly. “I– Don’t worry,” you rasp out. “I’m getting the surgery.”

Both Wooyoung and his fiance’s heads snap towards you, neither of them expected such an answer. The surgery carries high risk, as they cut around your heart and lungs to free you from the deathly blooms. But amidst their concern, you wave away their worries with a weak smile tainted with blood and petals.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind it. In the end, all will be as it should. You both will be just customers to me.” As much as my heart hurts to say it, it comes with some relief. “And I’ll make sure to write enough notes for myself so I won’t forget you totally. I still want to come to the wedding.”

You chuckle, but it dissolves into a cough as more petals come out. Wooyoung’s hand twitches, like he craves to help you through it. “Please…be safe…” both he and his fiance echo, and you smile up at them.

“Don’t worry…I’ll be right as rain. Maybe a little forgetful, but I don’t think I could ever truly forget your smiles. Now, I should probably book my appointment. I’ll make sure to schedule it so that I’ll be completely healed for your wedding date.”

And as much as they try to protest, you manage to shoo them out of your little store, the bell tinkling behind them as you lean against it to support your weight. It’s for the greater good. You don’t want to die, and you don’t want to miss their wedding.

With great effort, you make it back to your desk, writing a letter to the both of them.

Dear future Jungs,

When this letter reaches you, I probably won’t remember it. I probably won’t remember you properly either. But the memories you have given me have been some of the highest points in my life. It hurts me endlessly to know I will forget Wooyoung’s laughter, and the coffees he would bring me. I hope, even after I forget my feelings for Wooyoung, the warmth remains. Thank you for all you’ve given me.

If your future bouquet doesn’t turn out right, I will do my best to make it perfect for your special day, and the love you both share.

I wish you roses.

#kvanity #pirateeznet #lapydiariesnet #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung fanfiction #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung fic #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff

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shuckinbeanz · 4 months ago

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unhealthy obsession(SHIGARAKI)

warnings/notes: this may or may not be a new series of snippets 👀 kinda iffy tho. YanderexYandere, he knows you’re stalking him, but you don’t know he’s stalking you, so yes y'all have an unhealthy obsession for each other, AFO is a shriveled up asshole of a lovers’ cupid if u squint. 🥰 Your POV then his, bc who doesn’t love a yandere shiggy?!!?11 🥴

~Masterlist~

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

Tags: @dynamightsdaydream

(HIM)

Him. Him. Him.

His shaggy hair was the prettiest of colors, and those fiery crimson hues drove you nuts. You only saw his face once, and that scar on his lip, you’d die happy if you could take a nibble! Just once! All black wardrobe and, oh sigh, his adorable red vans! His dark nature has butterflies in your stomach, you had a thing for broken darlings…except your love for them was so strong, you’d end up breaking them even more!

Can he withstand it? The weight of your love?

Just thinking about it makes you drool.

There were many disgusting people flocking around him because of who he was, and one of them was particularly unsavory. Fucking bastard had your man in his clutches! He knew you were around, he made it known, that sleazeball!! He had a laugh at your expense, thwarting you from bugging the hide-out when the league was out! Multiple times!!

And you can’t do anything about it, the fucker’s the Overlord of Villains!!

The mere thought of it has you ticking, biting at your nails. Oooh, if only you could kill him!

This rage only grows as you glare at the screen. “Rrraaaagh!!!” you screech indignantly, as you take and hurl it with all your strength. The most colorful of obscenities pass your lips, your vision going red and your blood boiling.

Again. Again! And again! The damn shriveled up guard dog keeps you at arms length, gleefully! All this toil, for barely a glimpse into the secretive life led by him.

Him. Him. Him…

Your unhealthy obsession.

(YOU)

You. You. You.

You were adorable. Try as you might, Master kept you from many things. Master couldn't risk anything, after all. If any information you would've inevitably gathered got into the wrong hands? You'd have to disappear. Forever. He'd have to dust you, your body, soul, and your cute obsession over him all but ashen flakes in the wind.

He didn't like the idea of that, not at all. He'd rather you disappear in a little space he'd made for you, the safest in the world.

He watches you from the monitor, chuckling as you screech in anguish upon yet another failed attempt, throwing an adorable fit and crashing your rig, snapping from your nth failure.

“THAT WRINKLY BASTARD!! I'LL KILL HIM, I'LL FUCKING KILL HIM!! FUCK HIM BEING THE OVERLORD, FUCK HIM FOR KEEPING MY MAN TO HIMSELF!!” he snickers at your outrage.

Your man, huh? He likes the sound of that. He watches you take one of your many screens and send it flying towards his hidden camera, causing it to glitch out.

“Fu-u-u---him--m-m.” your sweet voice cuts out, the audio feed buffering, “Kill.” your gorgeous figure rubberbanding across his monitor as you approach your now broken rig.

“Tom--u-u-ra.” he relishes in you saying his name, “Wi--i-ill. Be.” he watches you, now a blur, planting your palms on your desk. “Mi-i--”

The audio and video feed shuts down.

“Shit.” he curses; it was just getting to a good part. He taps through the bugs, taking a mental note to have them replaced, because you had a tendency to go batshit when Master thwarts you.

He finds one where he can't see you, the camera pointing elsewhere in your room, but can hear you clearly.

He listens to your scheming, grinning to himself.

You were mad. Downright insane. Just as, if not more, obsessive than he is.

He thought you were so cute. So cute.

You. You. You…

His unhealthy obsession.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #mha yandere #yandere mha #yandere shigaraki #yandere reader

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sitkowski · 3 months ago

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coeur d'alene (jolly karlsson x matt dierkes)

pairing: jolly karlsson x matt dierkes cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ friends to lovers, vehicle accidents with minor injuries, mentions of blood, nightmares, a little bit of angst, bed sharing, light bondage, making out, hair pulling, choking, anal fingering, protected anal sex. word count: 3.1k author's note: one of two fics for the birthday boy! this one is probably the less angst ridden of the two. title comes from a movements song, divider by @strangergraphics

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups || read on ao3

Jolly’s jolted from a dead sleep by the feel of the van careening off the road, and he’s barely sat up before the impact. It’s the middle of the night and they’re stranded on the side of the road, front end of the van crunched up against a guardrail and the back axle of the equipment trailer snapped. Everyone gets tossed around a little, not enough to warrant a trip to the hospital from the looks of it, but the minute that Jolly sees Matt's bleeding he forgets about the possible damage to their stuff. He scrambles out of the back of the van, making sure Folio and Noah are okay as he passes them. Nicholas is checking on Davis and Bryan, who was driving the night shift. Matt’s standing by the front of the van, and he’s got just enough of the headlights on him for Jolly to see the red streaked across his mouth and on one of his arms.

“Hey, hey,” his voice has an edge of panic to it as he grabs onto Matt’s face and tilts his head towards the light. “Are you okay?”

Matt winces but nods, “Yeah, just bit my fucking lip. I’m fine.”

Behind them, the driver of the car that Bryan was trying to avoid hitting had come over to start explaining what had happened and apologizing. It really was just an accident, and they waited for the cops to show up to get all of the information they needed. The next few hours seem to drag on; contacting the venues they need to inform them of cancellations, scheduling a tow truck and another van to come and take them to the nearest hotel. They even have to get checked out by paramedics before they’re cleared to leave. They can’t look over the stuff in the trailer until the morning because it’s too dark.

They’re stranded in some city in Idaho for the weekend.

By the time they check into a hotel, everyone is running on fumes. They pair up randomly, and head off to their rooms. Matt is rooming with Jolly, and they’re too tired to care that there’s only one queen sized bed in the middle of the room. They throw their stuff down on the floor, and Matt drops down on the bed, pushing his hat off and scrubbing his hands through his hair.

“I gotta call people and get shit sorted—”

Jolly cuts him off, “You’re not gonna do a thing but sleep, Matt. Here, let me clean that up for you.”

Matt frowns like he’s got no idea what he’s talking about, not until Jolly comes back with a damp cloth to wipe the blood off of his arm, and then dab it gently at Matt’s lip because even though the paramedics cleaned it up, he’d split it open again somewhere between the side of the road and now. Matt wraps his fingers around Jolly’s wrist, stopping him.

“Your hands are shaking,” he points out, which Jolly hadn’t even noticed. “You okay?”

“Not really. Never been in a wreck before. And then I saw all this blood on you and I…”

Matt doesn’t need him to tell him how scared he was. He knew how much worse this could have been for all of them. Matt squeezes his wrist and Jolly lets out a shuddering breath, nodding to himself.

“Did you want to grab a shower?” he asks, but Matt shakes his head.

“Nah, you go ahead. I’m going to sleep, apparently.”

Jolly takes the fastest shower of his life because he’s too wired to sleep but the idea of dragging out something as simple as washing his hair makes him exhausted. By the time he falls into the bed beside Matt, he’s already asleep, blankets pulled up to his ears and a little furrow between his brows that Jolly is kind of desperate to make disappear. The bed doesn’t leave that much room between the two of them, and Jolly falls asleep watching Matt’s face.

He wakes up at an undetermined time, unable to catch his breath. Whatever the nightmare was, he can’t remember anything now beyond the panic he felt. Matt stirs beside him, reaching over to him.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles sleepily, and Jolly realizes that he’s there, and he’s fine. They’re all fine. “Hey, c’mere.”

He lets Matt pull him closer into his space, and when he presses a soft kiss to Jolly’s forehead, he can’t help but let out a surprised sound. It’s not that they’re not all touchy feely with each other anyway, it’s more that it’s Matt, who is normally walking around grumpy most days. Now, he wraps an arm over Jolly’s chest as if he’s got to prove that he isn’t going anywhere, and waits for Jolly to close his eyes again.

He sleeps better after that.

When he wakes up again hours later, he doesn’t expect Matt to be there but he is. He’s still beside him, not asleep but sitting up against the headboard fully dressed, scrolling through his phone. Jolly can smell coffee, which means he slept so hard he didn’t even realize that Matt had left and come back.

“Coffee might not be hot, but it’s gotta be mouth warm still.”

Jolly rolls his eyes at the term but gets up and grabs the cup from the table. It’s still warm enough not to taste bad, and it does something to him, the fact that Matt knows his coffee preferences without having to be told. He sits down on the bed beside him again, yawning and leaning his head back against the headboard.

“Any word on the gear?”

“I guess we should be glad we packed that shit like we’re playing tetris, because other than one amp and a couple merch boxes busted open nothing else was damaged. Everything should be fixed by tomorrow afternoon, Monday morning at the latest. We’re only gonna miss two shows, but we can add them back on at the end of the run and come back through.”

Jolly nods along to his words, and his eyes keep drifting down to the small cut on Matt’s bottom lip. Then again, occasionally staring at Matt’s mouth is nothing new for him. With the adrenaline and the exhaustion from the night before gone, he’s finally caught up to the fact that he’ll be sharing this room—this bed—with Matt and he feels butterflies in his stomach about it. It’s kind of hard to avoid a crush on someone when they’re this close.

Matt snaps his fingers in front of Jolly’s face. “Hey, you okay? Did you hear anything I said?”

“Uh yeah,” he mumbles into his coffee cup, trying not to blush. “Sorry, I zoned out. What were you saying?”

If he doesn’t know any better, Matt is smirking at him. “I asked if you wanted to go get some lunch?”

“Oh, yeah, let me toss on some clothes and we can meet up with everyone—”

“I meant just you and me? I already checked with everyone else and they’re doing their own thing today since we’re stranded here.”

The invitation brings a shy smile to Jolly’s face and he nods. He likes the idea of spending time with him, even if it’s just hanging out in the motel room or going to grab lunch together. He goes to get dressed and they head out, finding a diner that’s within walking distance of the motel. He feels nervous for some reason, sitting in a booth in the back of the diner with Matt across from him, looking over his menu after the waitress got their drink order. He doesn’t want to keep staring at him and make it weird, so he looks down at his own menu.

“Do you know what you want yet?” Matt asks and for some reason it sounds like he’s asking about more than food.

Jolly can only nod dumbly and he sees that little smirk on Matt’s face again before the waitress comes over to bring them their drinks and take their food order. By the time their food comes, Jolly doesn’t feel as nervous as before as they get lost in conversation about finishing out the tour, plans for afterward. And maybe he’s going crazy, but he thinks that Matt might be flirting with him. It almost gives him whiplash because he’ll say something that he knows is going to make Jolly blush and then change the subject so fluidly.

“You okay over there?” Matt asks, nudging his foot against Jolly’s beneath the table. “I can stop if—”

“No,” Jolly insists, shaking his head. “I just didn’t think you—”

Matt cuts him off, “I do. I kind of always have? I’ve just been…waiting for you to catch up to it. I didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for.”

Instead of saying anything, Jolly nudges Matt’s foot in return and then flags down their waitress to get the check.

The walk back to the motel is filled with tension, Jolly itches to touch him but doesn’t yet because he doesn’t know what’s going to happen once they’re in that room. He waits patiently behind Matt while he unlocks the door, and Matt steps aside to let him walk in first. The sound of him relocking the door seems loud to his ears, and he turns in the middle of the room to face Matt again.

“Now what?” he asks, holding his arms out at his sides.

“Well…” Matt steps closer to him and Jolly draws in a deep breath. “Now I’m gonna kiss you. Want to start with that?”

Jolly nods eagerly. Matt immediately surges forward, and cups Jolly's face in his palms, kissing him hard. Hard enough that Jolly's teeth knock against the cut on his lip and Matt pulls back, hissing.

"Sorry." Jolly murmurs, thumb brushing over his bottom lip carefully.

“It’s okay,” Matt shakes his head. “Come back here.”

Matt kisses him again, softer this time. Jolly takes Matt’s hat off, tossing it aside so he can bury his hands in his hair and back him up until he hits the edge of the bed. Matt lets out a soft noise of approval against his mouth, and when he sits down on the bed, he pulls Jolly along with him so that he’s spread out over top of him, pressing him down into the mattress. When Matt arches up into him, tries to get him closer even though it’s impossible at this point, Jolly pulls back, lips just barely touching him.

“What do you want?”

Now, Matt looks uncertain for a moment. “I just…I just want you?”

“Be specific,” leaning back, Jolly lets his hands slide beneath Matt’s shirt, tracing his fingers over the warm skin there. He likes the way Matt twitches and squirms beneath him, and he hasn’t even really touched him yet. “I want to know what you like, what makes you feel good. I’ll give you whatever you want”

Matt relaxes against the bed, seeming to think about it. Jolly tries not to distract him but it’s impossible for him to stop touching him, rucking his shirt up his chest and leaning down to drag his mouth over the skin he’d just been touching. Above him, Matt gasps and reaches down to grab onto a fistful of Jolly’s hair. He doesn’t pull, but it’s obvious he wants to.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

Matt sighs and tries to push himself up, and Jolly lets him, taking the time to tug off Matt’s shirt and throw it aside before removing his own. His fingers tease over the fly of Matt’s pants, barely grazing the outline of his cock and watching avidly as his hips twitched up towards his touch.

“I want your hands on me, I want you to hold me down,” Matt says. Jolly looks up at him and starts to tell him they already are but Matt pushes himself up on his palms so that they’re close to each other again. “I want you inside me.”

Swallowing hard, Jolly nods. He closes the distance between them again because he just has to kiss him, until they’re both gasping for air against each other’s mouths. They move apart long enough to get out of the rest of their clothes, and Jolly rifles through his bag to find a condom and lube. Matt gives him a look when he comes back to the bed, muttering something about being presumptuous, but he pulls him back in and kisses him.

“Lie back for me?”

Matt does as he asks, flopping back against the mattress. Jolly looks him over. He traces his fingers over the ink on his thigh, down to his knee and back up again, up higher to wrap a hand around Matt’s cock. He keeps his eyes on Matt’s face as he strokes him slowly, only stopping long enough to pop the cap on the lube and coat his hand. When he touches Matt again, he lets out a gasping sigh beneath him, arching into the mattress.

“Please,” Matt’s not quite begging, not this soon, but Jolly slows down his hand until he’s just holding him in his palm. “Come on, Joll, I want—”

“I know what you want. And I want you to be patient for me, pretty boy.” Jolly says.

He can feel the moment Matt completely gives himself over to him, very nearly melting into the bed. He nods slowly, and Jolly resumes his careful pace, his hand slowly twisting up and down his length. Matt fists his hands in the bedding, trying to stay still. When Jolly slides his fingers down and nudges two of them into Matt, he groans and tosses an arm over his eyes. He twists those fingers inside of him, wondering how the stretch feels for Matt.

“Feels good,” Matt mumbles, despite not looking at him. Jolly hadn’t realized he asked that question out loud. “You could give me more if you wanted.”

So Jolly does, pulling back enough to ease in a third finger. When Matt rocks down against his hand, Jolly can’t help but fold himself over his body and kiss him desperately. He rocks against Matt a few times, cocks sliding together and despite the awkward angle of his wrist he doesn’t stop until Matt is begging him for more than this.

He lets out a disappointed whine when Jolly pulls away and takes his fingers out, but Jolly wastes no time getting the condom on and lifting Matt’s hips to slide into him with a satisfied groan. He presses his forehead to the middle of Matt’s chest, just breathing for a minute as he gives Matt time to adjust. When he looks up, he sees Matt watching him, something in his expression that makes Jolly’s stomach twist. It looks a lot like love. It takes Jolly’s breath away and he slides deeper until there’s no space between them, fingers digging into Matt’s skin as if he could climb inside.

“Thought you were going to hold me down,” Matt’s voice is ragged and Jolly pulls back slowly, making sure that Matt feels it. “You don’t have to be considerate or careful with me.”

Jolly pulls Matt’s wrists above his head, pinning them together with one hand. Matt’s fingers tangle with his gratefully and he pushes his head back into the mattress, eyes fluttering closed as Jolly starts fucking him with sharp, hard thrusts. He makes sure that Matt feels it, every quick shove in, every slow drag out. He doesn’t want to hurt him, but he wants to remember it tomorrow.

“More,” Matt begs. He locks his legs around Jolly’s hips, meeting every movement with a roll of his hips. “Please please please…”

He keeps saying that one word and Jolly is losing his mind a little. Instead of reaching down and getting his hand around Matt’s cock like he probably thought he would, Jolly changes his mind and wraps his free hand around Matt’s throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure, not yet.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and Matt nods rapidly.

“Yeah, yes,” he presses up a little into Jolly’s light grasp. “I trust you.”

Jolly’s grasp tightens minutely, fingertips digging into the sides of Matt’s neck. He sees his eyes roll back, feels the way he clenches down around his cock and digs his fingernails into Jolly’s hand. He can feel it as he tries to swallow, and Jolly waits a few more seconds before releasing his hold but nothing taking his hand away. Matt gasps for air and then turns his head, catching Jolly’s mouth in a kiss. Jolly can feel the noises trapped in his throat against his palm, and he sighs softly, pulling back to press his forehead to Matt’s.

“Again?”

Matt nods, and Jolly tightens his fingers again, the high whine that escapes Matt’s mouth making his stomach twist pleasantly. He pulls Matt tighter to his body, letting him rub off against him. He has no intentions of taking his hands off of him for anything. He looks down at Matt, takes in his flushed cheeks and the way he gasps for air through parted lips, eyes clenched closed tightly. He’s close to coming and he’s got a feeling that Matt isn’t that far behind him.

"Hey, look at me Matty?" The simple request makes Matt's eyes open and he clenches his fingers down on his throat once more, feeling the moment that Matt gives in and spills against his stomach. “There you go.”

He lets go of Matt’s neck completely, bringing his other hand up above their heads to join their clasped fingers, and he ruts into Matt desperately, chasing his own orgasm. Matt presses kisses against his chest, urging him on until he finally fell over the edge. He tries not to completely collapse down against him, but Matt gets his hands free and tugs him as close as possible, kissing him in the afterglow.

Eventually, they manage to move and get cleaned up. Jolly waits for it to get awkward, but that never happens. The two of them share a shower, and they find a restaurant that’s willing to deliver to the motel, ordering for themselves and for everyone else. He wonders how different things will be once they’re back out on the road, or back at home. He lets himself be distracted by going down to Noah and Nicholas’ room for food and a movie. He and Matt don’t act any different around each other, despite the slowly forming marks on Matt’s throat that no one else seems to notice and Jolly can’t stop staring at. He likes that there’s something for Matt to remember this by.

As if Matt can sense his wariness as they’re walking back to their room, he laces their fingers together, lifting their joined hands and pressing his lips to the ink on Jolly’s fingers.

“I’m kind of glad we got stranded.”

Jolly smiles, managing to get the door unlocked one handed before he pulls Matt inside. They’ve still got one more night here, and he plans to make the most of it.

⇉ taglist

@ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @deathblacksmoke @dominuslunae @rumoured-whispers @cookiesupplier @kinseysucks @collapsedglasshouses @thatchickwiththecamera @th4t-em0-k1d @blackveilomens @illmakeyousaywow @kait16xo @nocturnalheathen @malice-ov-mercy @itsjustforce @darksigns-exe @baddestomens @collidewiththesavannah @sorrowsofsilence @fadingangelwisp @wonh0z @xxrainstorm @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @concretejunglefm @lacy1986

if you ’d like to be added to the taglist, you can find the form at the top of this fic! thanks for reading/reblogging 🩷

#jolly karlsson x matt dierkes #jolly karlsson fic #matt dierkes fic #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens smut #.ficbysitkowski

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

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of daisies and collisions

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: thelonious monk - "green chimney's"

summary: nanami kento felt a little out of his element, with a small bundle of flowers sitting in his lap and brooding in the dark corner of the jazz bar. yet, you play that song he likes again, and nothing else matters. (nanami x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: strangers to lovers (??), first meeting, banter-driven fluff with a little bit of angst at the beginning, gojo cameo

note: FIRST TIME WRITING FOR NANAMI RAHHHHHH. thank you to @yutaleks for donating as a part of @ficsforgaza !!! also,,, threw in a little reference for @mididoodles my og nanami lover. i hope you like this :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Nanami Kento considered himself a simple man.

A week ago, he would have clocked out of work and driven home alone, maybe throwing a baking show on the TV while he made pan-fried dinner in solitude. Nothing got past Nanami’s walls because he didn’t let them. Simple, easy, boring–that was his life since leaving Jujutsu society. Nothing exciting and nothing new, life passed him by and he allowed it to slip through his fingers like water, letting himself become pulled into the mundane pushing-and-pulling tide of everyday life. He wasn’t a sorcerer anymore; just a working man with too much time on his hands, seeing shadows no one else could. Yet, the thought lingered in his mind: who was benefiting from his efforts?

That was his existence, up until a week ago when a novice driver scraped the hood of his car in just the right way to make the engine go completely kaput.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, sir!”

“I am aware of your remorse. Kindly give me your information so we can handle this in a timely manner.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir!” He exhaled through his nose. The boy couldn’t have been older than eighteen and any other decent adult would have sympathy for the kid. Nanami, however, couldn’t be bothered and took down the teenager’s license and registration with as minimal words as possible. Soon enough, his phone was pressed to his cheek as he called a cab, the nearest one being at least fifteen minutes away. Before he could slip his phone back into his pocket, he senses a body rushing toward his seconds until an inevitable impact. He tries to pivot so that the figure brushes past his arm instead of colliding, but it’s no use. Your shoulder rams into his and you stumble, briefly aware of his hand brushing your forearm to catch you.

“Sorry about that!” You’re giving him an apologetic smile, still continuing in your current direction. You’re clutching a small stack of papers and you grasp at them as they start to slip from your arms. He gapes unexpectedly, meeting your eyes from over your shoulder. His silence seems to concern you and you take a few steps back toward him with drawn eyebrows. “A-Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he forces out after a moment, taking a disorienting amount of time to regain his bearings. Why was he so startled by you? “Are you–”

“Okay, great! I have to,” you stutter, gesturing the opposite way, “I have to go. I’m so sorry about running into you, again. Have a good one!” Nanami finds his hand acting on its own, stretching out to grab your attention before you’re gone. He’s a millisecond too late and realizes with a weight in his stomach why he couldn’t stop staring at you. There was something attached to you, something inhuman. It was nearly imperceptible because of your normalcy and any other sorcerer would have missed it, but he saw it, the grotesquely snake-like Curse winding its coils around your neck. The question comes into the forefront of his mind again: who was benefiting from his efforts?

Shit.

He trails after you without thinking, without any regard as to whether he would miss the cab or get home after the sun disappears. You’re texting someone frantically while still shuffling around your papers, checking street signs every so often before taking a sharp turn right into a brick building Nanami had never entered before. MIDI’S: JAZZ AND DRINKS, read the neon yellow sign, and he pushes through the door without another moment’s hesitation.

“How are we feeling tonight, ladies and gentlemen?” Cheering, a few hoots and hollers. It’s comfortingly warm in the dark space, dimly lit by a few dandelion lanterns and a tasteful amount of plain candles. There’s a bar tucked into the left wall with two bartenders chatting up distinguished-looking customers. Crowded tables and attendees lounging in creaky chairs litter the space, sipping from honey-colored bottles and crystal glasses. It’s homey, Nanami thinks. Not necessarily his usual crowd, but he could find solace in it. “We’ve got a lot more music up for you tonight, featuring our very own pride of Midi’s.” Nanami’s eyes are drawn to the circular stage at the center of the room, where the announcer gestures behind her to a person seated at the piano. He blinks once, then twice, before realizing that it’s you. You smile into the darkness, wincing a bit when the snake Curse around your shoulders squeezes tauntingly. You had no idea of the danger you were in, which Nanami figured was the reason he orders a glass of bourbon and finds a less-crowded corner of the club.

Your fingers dance on the keys of the piano, gliding and crossing over each other lighter than touching a paintbrush to a canvas. Your movements are smooth and unrestrained, flawless except for the momentary constriction of the Curse attached to you. The Curse’s eyes find Nanami’s and it seems to smile, constricting harder than it had previously while maintaining eye contact. You cough hard enough that your song is interrupted and the other musicians around you quickly cover for you as you struggle for a drink of water. The Curse was restricting your ability to play, and his body again reacted before his mind.

He focuses a significant amount of Cursed Energy into his balled fist–not enough to be noticeable to non-sorcerers, but enough to serve as a warning for the Curse blocking your airway. It recoils like a vampire caught in direct sunlight, slinking away into the darkness behind the piano. It was still attached to you, but he knew it wouldn’t pester you for the rest of your performance. Exorcizing the Curse himself was risky, since you’d recognize Nanami as soon as he was in close proximity. As the last step in his quiet plan to keep you safe, he opens his messages and scrolls through the endless amount of heart-emoji texts he left unanswered, sending his location to the one contact in his phone that isn't involved with being a salaryman.

> LOCATION SENT - NANAMI KENTO TO GOJO SATORU

—

“That’s them? That’s why you send me to a jazz bar at 7:00 P.M. on a Thursday?”

“Don’t call them ‘that,’ Gojo. It’s crass,” Nanami mutters, another sip of bourbon burning down his throat. The blindfolded sorcerer beside him shrugs indifferently, considering you again. You’re playing with more life than you were the week prior, when the Curse was snug around your neck like a deadly scarf. He might have imagined it, but Nanami could have sworn you caught his eye and winked at him. Gojo insists those winks were for him, though. “But, yes. They are the reason I sent you that message.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why’d you follow them and get involved, anyway? It’s not like you to get concerned with things that don’t benefit the collective. At least, not since you left,” Gojo replies. It’s harsh, a little blunter than Gojo’s usual lackadaisical comments, but he’s right. Nanami hadn’t been worried about a single person besides himself in a long while, however much he didn’t like to admit it. He was fine protecting his own simple, boring existence, until he realized just how much he wanted to protect your existence too. Nanami Kento was a selfish man, inside, and he considered his actions to keep you safe not altruism, but an extension of his selfishness. That’d be too hard to express to Gojo, though, so he settles for mirroring his former colleague’s indifferent shrug.

“Felt like the correct path to follow,” he answers. The small bundle of daisies sitting in Nanami’s lap weighs heavier than a dumbbell, and it occurs to him just how out of his element he was. He was used to things being clean-cut and easy, but his recent interest in getting to know you had thrown off his entire livelihood. “We are to keep people safe, are we not?”

“I’m supposed to keep those people safe. I don’t really know what you’re doing anymore,” Gojo drawls. “Though, I will say, they’re really pretty. You think I can pull them?”

“The only thing pulling you is my arm out of this establishment if you don’t be quiet,” Nanami deadpans. “Plus,” he looks down at the stray flower petals sprinkling his dress pants, “I have first dibs.”

You smile at him when he approaches you sidestage after your set, visibly more relaxed without the Curse on your back. Gojo was long gone doing who-knows-what, leaving Nanami to deal with the unwanted fluttering in his gut.

“You’re back again. Enjoy the show last week?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “You are incredibly talented.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes flick down to the flowers in his fist, comically small in comparison to his large hands. “Those for me?”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he sputters, handing you the bunch more stiff than he planned. A silent understanding hides behind your expression; you can see through him like glass. Somehow, he doesn’t mind. “Were you–”

“Are you–” You both speak at the same time and abruptly trail off, insisting that the other goes first. “Please,” you concede with a wave of your hand, “go ahead.”

“I was going to ask if you were playing here for the first time when we ran into each other, last week.”

“Was it that obvious?” You rub the back of your neck with your hand, your smile turning playfully embarrassed. “I had this weird cough that was messing with my health, so that’s why I was running late. It was also probably why I collided with you on the sidewalk,” you chuckle.

“I am unbothered,” he admits. His thoughts slip out from his mouth without thinking. “I wouldn’t mind if you collided with me again.” Your eyes widen and Nanami can feel his face begin to burn, Gojo’s devilish grin at the back of his mind accusing him of being terrible at relationships. “I-I’m not sure why I said that–”

“It’s Kento, right?” You’re peering at him curiously, as if you were trying to hold in a laugh. The sound of his name on your lips is more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol from the bar.

“Yes, how did you–”

“The blindfolded guy came up to me during my break and said he was with you,” you state, the corner of your mouth still quirking like you were hiding a secret. “You have weird friends.” You didn’t know half of it.

“Right,” he forces out. You didn’t seem to mind how goofy Nanami was acting; in fact, something in his head told him that you liked it. “Well, I-I apologize for such a bold–”

“You know,” you cut in as the back of your hand delicately brushes the tiny flowers in your hand. “My set tomorrow night ends early and there’s a really good sandwich shop just up the street. Maybe I could collide with you there?”

“That would–Yes, I would like that,” he barely replies. You tear a corner from your sheet music and scribble something onto it. You press it into his palm as you head backstage, your touch electrifying every single nerve you made contact with.

“See you tomorrow,” you wave with that same small smile he was losing himself to. For better or for worse, something about meeting you made Nanami unwilling to go back to that simple, easy way he was living before.

GREEN CHIMNEY’S (PG. 3)

(XXX) XXX-XXXX

here’s that song you like, it’s the one you smile at every time <3

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#fics for gaza #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #kento x you #kento x reader #kento x y/n

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lulublack90 · 1 year ago

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Prompt 27 - Fix-It

@wolfstarmicrofic July 27, word count 876

CW - Murder, killing with a knife, blood, dead bodies, graves

Part eight of werewolf Sirius

Previous part First part

He looked at the note over and over. It was definitely Regulus’s handwriting, he’d watched him use it enough times. The papers had said he’d drowned and every scrap of information he’d managed to gather said the same. Regulus Black had drowned. He’d thought it odd, as Regulus had always been a strong swimmer. He often out-swam Sirius himself. But now he knew the truth, but he couldn’t think why Voldemort would lock the son of his most loyal servants away and lie about his death, hopefully, he could ask Regulus himself once they got him out.

Greyback returned on the day of the full moon. His followers grabbed Sirius and forced him to his knees. He glared up at the old wolf. They’d prepared for this.

“Well, Lord Black, are you ready?” Greyback growled. “Your brother’s life hangs in the balance. If you answer incorrectly again, I’m afraid that young Master Black won’t see the moon rise.” Sirius shook with rage.

“How do I know you’ll keep your word and let Regulus live?” Sirius’s voice was shaky. He added to it, pretending it was with nervousness.

“When you agree, I shall send word to the Dark Lord and your brother’s carers that you are doing as commanded, and they will keep him alive until the sunrises tomorrow and I will send word that Dumbledore is dead. If I don’t your brother, your lover and yourself will not live another day.” Greyback’s eyes flicked over to Marcus. “You know what, we'll throw in your little buddy as well. He’s been useless to me since he arrived anyway.” Sirius swallowed and let his head hang low.

“I’ll do it,” He whispered.

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite hear that,” Greyback smiled horridly, holding a hand to his ear.

“I’ll take you to Albus Dumbledore in exchange for my brother’s life.” He repeated, defeatedly. Greyback took out a small scroll of parchment, held it up and clicked his fingers. It disappeared into a cloud of black smoke. A minute later, a different parchment returned in the same black smoke and Greyback unfurled it.

“The Dark Lord is very happy with you, Lord Black.” He turned to address the rest of the camp. “We will be leaving in a few hours for the forbidden forest. Prepare yourselves, my children. Tonight is going to be written in the history books!” A knife slid across Greyback’s neck, he raised his hands to the wound as blood poured out. He fell to the ground with a sickening thump. Then, one after the other, his closest followers fell with him and a few others dotted through the gathered wolves. Remus stepped forward.

“Well done. We leave for Lestrange castle before nightfall.” The gathered wolves all bowed to their new leader, Sirius included. Remus bent and pulled Sirius up from the ground. They stood together looking at the new pack they’d created. A wolf pack that after tonight would be peaceful and free from Greyback and Voldemort’s whims.

“Who’s hungry? After all that, I’m starving,” Marcus rose from his bow, clapping his hands together. “Hey, when you’ve finished making googly eyes at your mate, pack master. Could you do something about this rubbish strewn across the camp before it starts to stink?” Marcus joked, holding his nose closed. Remus rolled his eyes at the mischievous wolf and raised his wand. He levitated them into the forest and dug graves for them all. No words were said and the few that had gathered quickly left.

The pack of twenty wolves arrived at the castle gates. Those who could do magic had acquired wands, and together they began to pull apart the protection spells keeping them out. Sirius felt the last bit of magic breaking and the gate swung open. Sirius walked through as they’d discussed earlier to check it was safe. When nothing happened, the rest of the pack followed.

They hid in the shadows away from the main door. He and Remus locked the gates again with their own brand of magic. It would be almost impossible for anyone to get in or out who wasn't already familiar with their spells. Sirius cast a reviling charm to show how many people were in the castle. Faint yellow dots appeared before him. He counted ten in all. Nine gathered together in the dining room and one below in the dungeons. Smaller blue dots shone together in the kitchen. House elves. He watched as another blue light appeared, and together they all disappeared. He ended the spell. Taking Remus's hand, they turned back to the gathered wolves.

“Anyone who has changed their mind now that we are here and doesn’t wish to take part in this fight can go and none of us will hold it against them. We will meet you at the new camp tomorrow if we make it out,” Remus addressed his pack in a whisper. Their superior hearing meant they all heard the quiet words. None of the pack moved.

Sirius could feel the change coming. Remus looked at him, and they shared a silent moment before the first whimper left one of the other wolves. They hastily cast a silencing charm around the pack and let the wolves within out to play.

Next part

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onesidedradiostatic · 1 year ago

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I feel like Alastor made that deal to save his life. That'd be so much more tragic and create so much more conflict if he was literally on the verge of death and someone told him either you do this or you die. In general as someone with thanatophobia I do headcanon Alastor as a person who's very, very afraid of death which just adds to the panic he had in the finale.

Something that I really see in Alastor's character over and over again is that sure, he craves power and control and he loves having that but also he wants to be seen; to mean something. He's an entertainer with his radio show. He's killed terrible people probably because of his moral code, yes, but I think also to give himself this grand purpose (think Light from Death Note) of bringing justice etc.

Alastor hates fading into the background, he hates being overshadowed (Lucifer), hates when people do not give a shit about him. He clearly cares about his reputation; wants the other overlords to wonder where he's been even though he has no intention of giving that information out whatsoever. A lot of people really do want him to be this powerful villain who seems untouchable but I really like the theory of Alastor being a fraud. A Wizard of Oz type character. With all of his power coming from his deal. I love the idea of "The Radio Demon" being this grand persona he carefully crafted for himself and now bases his identity around and hiding everything behind a smile when underneath it all; without the deal, without his reputation; he is just a very traumatized, slightly pathetic little man who fears nothing more than cracks in his facade and going back to being that little mixed kid in Louisiana whose dad hated him and who was treated like he was never going to make it as a radio star or like he doesn't matter. The whole taking charge of one's own fate quote really drives that theory home for me.

I've never seen Alastor as someone who wants control because he's a power hungry maniac, he wants control because he grew up without that; because even now every day in that deal is a reminder of how much his life depends on the forces around him. I see Alastor as someone with this delusional idea of freedom that if he just puts himself above everyone, if he's able to take on anything; he'll finally feel free when in reality the biggest problems are his unaddressed fears, his perspective and his mental illnesses. And the more he fails, the more this drives him insane.

I think deep inside he feels pathetic and more vulnerable than he actually is and it's why he lashes out at Husk and immediately gets into this dick measuring contest with Lucifer. Episode 5 really showcases how impulsive and meaninglessly destructive Alastor can be when he feels threatened. Like a hissy cat.

And what would be a worse fate for someone like that than to die in hell, bound to a contract, owned by someone; only to fade away into nothingness for all eternity and eventually be forgotten like he never meant anything? I think that's the worst possible scenario for him and the only thing that could get him to put himself into a deal no matter the terms. Because at least if he's alive, he still has a chance.

DAAAMN yeah this is pretty crazy, I mean I personally don't even have my own theory on what the deal could be so I just accept whatever people throw out there

the thing with the idea of all his power coming from his deal is that then we'd have to assume the deal was made very early on in his time in hell (since well. he does have a long reputation pre-absence), and in that case the making of his deal wouldn't have caused his 7-year absence, and if not then why did he disappear for 7 years? why does it coincide with lilith? was it still something related to his deal??

I don't really have any theory I agree or disagree with in particular, I'm just consuming all of them and will see if anyone's hit the nail on the head when it's revealed in the show proper

#ask #osrs.txt #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor

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justanamesstuff · 1 year ago

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Chapter 5

Seasons

Matty Healy x f!reader A/N: And one day she uploaded the fifth chapter! I'm very happy to bring you guys this new chapter I had fun writing and editing...it's full of emotions but so am I. I also want to thank you all for patience and understanding while I'm going through this difficult time of my life, i really dont know where i will be without your unconditional love and support!! Please let me know what you think and what you expect for this tangled story <333 love you lots! Warnings: ANGST, anxiety, so many feelings...fluff, cuteness, surprises, typos. Word count: 8.2 K

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

< Chapter 4

Few weeks later, LA

Matty felt the mild temperature on the air caressing his cheeks as he opened the door of his rented car at the airport. Denise and some of her friends were supposed to step out of the big doors in only minutes. Trying to be a good son, he offered himself without being asked. One because he wanted to see his mother and, two, because staying at home with Hann’s eyes following around all the time was driving the frontman insane. They had been going through a weird phase after the talk involving Matty’s feelings and problems. They were good but, at the same time, they weren’t. Just as Matty with Y/N. Why that kept happening to him? No clear answer.

While he waited, Matty walked around the rented car, his hood up and trying to wake up massaging his face harder than intended. He was trying to keep his mind at ease. He couldn’t think about his issues. Quickly, Matty’s hands reached quickly for his pack of cigarettes.

Matty deliberated a hundred of times if asking his mom about the situation would help, even though it was complicated. He would put her in a sketchy situation, and he was against it. At the same time, he knew very well –deep down– his mother would see through his eyes with her x-ray vision and say exactly what he had to do but was avoiding.

Matty didn’t feel ready.

He had to decide. To accept what was really going on with his feelings, say those out loud and risk a lot in the middle. Or keep the same behaviour, not only the one he maintained for the past months, for the past years. Either way, he’d continue hurting himself.

Lies -no matter how suited they could be- at the end are lies anyway. Denying feelings you have, don’t make them disappear…you only sweep them under the carpet and wait for them to explode in your face sooner or later.

The process of accepting is painful most of the time, but isn’t more painful to believe something that is not? Isn’t it worse to maintain a relationship that deep down you knew you don’t want?

Matty was protecting his heart. He was getting himself ready for the next part…for the inevitable.

After a couple of more minutes, the singer spotted his mother looking for him. At the same moment, his phone rang.

“’Ello?” he answered, throwing away the butt of his smoked cigarette.

“Hi Matty, where are you?” his mother asked. He gave her the directions, as he waved his free arm in the air. The whole group approached him. “Hi, love!” Denise greeted him, embracing him on a hug.

“Hi, mom.” Matty muttered, feeling the warmth of her arms. He didn’t realize how much he had needed that hug. “How was the flight?” the singer asked politely while greeting his mother’s friends.

“It was good.” one of them responded.

“Where are the others?” Denise asked.

“At the house, I volunteered to pick you up.”

“Aw, my son.” Denise took his face between her hands.

Matty laughed feeling the tight squeeze. “Mom, stop!” he moved away, feeling like he was a teenager all over again.

“Oh, shush!!” she protested making the rest laugh.

Shortly after, Matty and the group of women got on the car. He started driving, chatting a little with Denise’s friends and her mom. He made jokes, trying to be the nicest he could be.

“So, how’s the record going?” Denise inquired.

Matty didn’t give her much information, “Good, good.”

“You look tired.” she noticed.

“I am.”

“Are you sleeping well?”

“Mom!” Matty whined, stopping at a red light.

“What? I want to know if my son is alright.”

“I’m sleeping just right, okay?”

Denise scoffed. “What that even means?” her accent thickened warming Matty’s heart thinking about home.

“Oh god, I was missing you but…now I don’t know-” Matty teased her. He felt the urge to divert the attention.

“Excuse me, boy? First, I know you missed me- “

Matty smiled wide, “I did.”

“-and secondly, you can’t get fussy. I’m angry with you.” she folded her arms, emphasizing her sayings which was answered with a frown from Matty.

“What are you on about now?” Matty asked her.

“And you dare to ask!”

“Denise…” Matty warned her.

“Y/n? Ireland?“ Matty’s mother started counting, Matty’s face dropping. “Does that ring any bells?”

Matty scratched the back of his head. “No? I mean- Yes, she’s working over there.”

“Not that! I know that!” Denise shouted. “Well, I’ve already known that.”

Denise’s son turned for a split of a second, staring at her puzzled. “What else then?”

“She’s dating someone! Don’t fake like you don’t know…” she continued rambling, but Matty’s ears closed. His mind was foggy while he imagined Y/n and a boy with no face doing a ton of shit he couldn’t do with her.

“Like actually dating?” Matty’s voice came out strangled. He didn’t dare to look at her mother.

Denise hide her mouth behind her right hand, gasping, “Oh, you don’t know! She’s going to kill me!”

“Mom…”

“Do you remember Tom?” she exhaled.

“Tom?”

“Tom Blyth.”

“Yes, I do. I saw him at an even, I reckon? Not sure.” Matty’s mind desperately trying to remember how this Tom looked like.

“Well, they… I don’t know how much I can tell you. I shouldn’t say a thing.” Denise explained, worried. Y/n never told her not to tell, but still.

“Don’t worry, I knew she was dating someone.” Matty lied. Y/n told him about a boy she fancied, not this. Why didn’t she? They talked a week prior, why hide this?

“Oh, okay. I’m really happy for her.” Denise felt a wave of relief washing over her.

“Yeah, me too.” Matty said through gritted teeth.

“It’s lovely she’s dating someone! He sounds like a good lad.” Denise continued ranting, unaware of Matty’s emotions.

“Yes, it is.” Matty couldn’t say more. His heart was aching.

“Anyway, how’s Nadia?” his mother changed the topic.

“Ah?” Matty snapped out of his daydreaming. “Oh, Nadia- She- Yeah, she is alright. I guess, she’s in Italy right now.” Matty responded. Hoping his mother didn’t ask more. Luckily she didn’t.

Matty drove the group of women to the hotel they were going to stay at. He promised to come back later for dinner, and then he continued his driving.

His mind was nowhere to be found. His heart was hurt. Matty’s body was on pilot mode, he only wanted to arrive at the house and sleep. Just forget the news.

This Tom and Y/n? This new dude and his best friend? He couldn’t picture it. He didn’t want to. Why Y/n never said his name?

Matty was sure that the last conversation they had had was a fully sincerely one. He knew they didn’t talk about many important parts but…why she didn’t tell him?

…………………………………………

Hours later

Matty woke up suddenly. He sat on his bed, trying to calm his breathing. His heart beating so fast, he could perfectly sense it and hear it in his ears.

After dropping her mother at the hotel, he came back home to sleep for a couple of hours before leaving to set. His life was hectic right now. His mind was troubled. And now his body was showing it more than before. He had to decide sooner than later. This thing was going to drive him insane.

His mother told him a lot of information he hadn’t considered. In fact, he forgot about this guy Y/n talked about. Matty was so focused on his relationship with her. On his relationship with his girlfriend. With maintaining both alive and going. But in the end: one, he wasn’t fulfilling the task, and secondly, he was only focusing on him.

The guy, well, Tom…never was in the equation for him. He kept Y/n in a place, in his head, where she was single and no seeking for a relationship right now. Did she tell him that or he believed it? She did tell him about this guy she had a crush on…but Matty knew that Y/n never took the lead. Probably Tom made a move.

Matty ripped the blankets from his body, irritated.

He had to be happy for Y/n. He wanted to be happy. Matty couldn’t. He was more than screwed, he realized. The singer couldn’t say it out loud, not even to himself only. But he knew why this bothered him so much.

For a while he sat on his bed, running his hands –desperately– through his curls, trying to find the answer to his sorrows.

Nothing helpful came to mind, but his breathing settled a little. His mind kept running.

And then he remembered his dream.

He could picture it so vividly. It wasn’t fully a dream. It was more a memory with Y/n.

The dream took place months after they became friends. That time the rest of the gang wasn’t there, just Y/n and Matty. They had this kind of tradition, like a movie night but different. Instead of films they watched series. Sitcoms in particular. One of them picked two numbers, one for the episode and another for the season.

This time they were watching the office. They loved it. And Y/n particularly loved Pam and Jim’s relationship. Every time they appeared on the screen doing something remotely cute she screamed or remarked it for Matty in case he missed it.

He couldn’t care less about the episode. He was focused on her. How beautiful she got cheering for some random characters. Matty tried to look at her without her noticing. Y/n made him feel so many things back then.

“Omg, he’s going to propose. Matthew!!” Y/n screamed turning to look at him, and then again to the screen.

“He’s not.”

“He totally is!”

“You already know what happens!” Matty accused her, chuckling.

“Shh, I want to pretend that I don’t know.” the singer remembered how she snuggled closer to him. “Let…” she pointed a finger on his chest. “me…” again. “be, Healy.” Y/n looked up at his brown eyes, so close and yet so far. Matty’s heart was going to explode on his chest. He stayed there, just looking at Y/n. “Stop.” she looked away after a few minutes without a real reply from him.

“I’m not doing anything, darling.” he smiled.

“You are.”

“What am I doing?”

“Looking at me.”Y/n said, drawing patterns on his clothed chest around his heart where his tattoo was imprinted. The girl wasn’t aware of the power she had upon him.

“Well, yeah, I’m not blind.” Matty was so surprised about how well he was faking being unbothered. “What’s wrong?”

“You are looking me like that night…” he made a puzzled face. “The night we met.” Y/n clarified.

“Ohh.” he cooed.

“So- yeah- stop.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he asked cheekily. Matty touched the redness of her cheeks gaining her attention again.

“Dunno.”

“You’re beau-” Matty couldn’t help to start saying. Y/n moved her head forward hiding her face on his shoulder.

“Shh. Don’t. Let’s continue watching.” she made herself comfortable on his left side. Using his shoulder as a pillow this time. Matty couldn’t complain. He was happy there, with her, even when the words got stacked on his throat.

Y/n was everything he wanted back then. Why did he stop trying? Yes, they were friends. That was the most important part of this mess. Although he hated himself for not trying enough, for not waiting enough, for being an idiot, to realize late all of this when she was apparently starting a relationship with someone else, and he was in a former one already.

Nadia. He kind of used Nadia. He loved her, but not in that way…or not any more as the beginning. Matty couldn’t keep with that. He was going to hurt her so much..if he wasn’t already. Why he convinced himself he was ready for a formal relationship with someone else when in fact he wanted her?

If he broke the relationship, both of them would get hurt. Nadia doesn’t deserve that, in fact, she deserved better than a half love. It was the best, in the way that he had to let her have a better opportunity.

Matty ran his hands through his hair anxiously for a million time. He needed to know about this Y/n and Tom thing. He had to be sure if it was a real thing. Not because it would help. It would hurt in fact, even though he had the urged to know. He couldn’t ask Y/n though. Matty was sure that George knew something. He had to ask him.

Matty walked the short distance from his room to the studio downstairs where he knew George would be.

He opened the door without announcing his presence.

“Everything okay, mate?” George said in a calm tone without turning, his eyes still on the board in font of his eyes.

“Do you know Y/n is with a Tom?” Matty didn’t wait a second.

His best friend’s body stiffened visibly. “Tom? What Tom?” G tried playing dumb, although Matty saw right through him.

“George, I’m not in the mood for this. I know you know. So fuckin’ start talking.” he stated.

“Mat-“

The singer cut him short, “Don’t use that stupid tone with me.” Matty pointed his finger even though George couldn’t see him. He sat down on the couch behind G set up. “Please, I need to know.” Matty almost begged. “Can you tell me what you know?”

“Mate, you know I can’t tell you- “ George turned around on his chair.

“So, she’s…mom’s right- Fuck!” Matty said more for himself, resting his entire body on the couch.

“What’s going on? Why is making you so anxious?” G asked, with a patience he only had for Matty.

“I- I’m not in a good place right now…everything is- I don’t even know what to say.” Matty chuckled dryly.

“What do you mean?”

“George.“ he hissed.

“C’mon…say it.”

“I’m not ready to talk about this. I can’t- “

“This has something to do about the same feelings you had a while back?”

“Yes.”

“I know.”

George let the silence linger for a second, feeling like a pause between topics.

“And Nadia?” the drummer asked.

“I don’t know.” Matty closed his eyes, cringing.

“Matty- “ G said in a worried tone.

“I know, okay? I’m going to talk to her…”

“Okay, it’s not going to be nice- “

“Believe me, I know.”

“I think it’s the best.”

“Yes.”

“And… Matty?”

“Yeah?”

George got serious after stating clearly, “You can’t say this to Y/n.“

“I know that too.” Matty responded defeated, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hands rhythmically.

“Mate- “

“I have things to figure it out, but I’m okay.” Matty lied to G and to himself.

G knew he was far from that state, but he wasn’t to push Matty more during that moment. “Okay…”

“I’ve to go now.” Matty exited the room as fast as he came in.

G moved his face from side to side, praying silently that none of his best friend got hurt after all.

………………………………………………

A week later

End of March

“What else could go wrong in this story?” Hann thought on the flight from LA to New York. He had no idea what he somehow manifested to happen after that without even knowing.

The first few days were fine, but when the fifth came everything changed. Hann and Matty didn’t talk much, they were still in this particular position since they had the talk. Hann decided to leave Matty alone for a while, but keeping his eyes close in case something happened.

Strangely, Hann was left alone in the posh studio while the rest of the guys, the producer, and people he couldn’t retain their names even five minutes after meeting went out to get food. It would be easier ordering from an app or something even though all of them needed a break.

The line connecting the front desk with the private area they had been working in rang startling Adam out of the zone. He left his guitar to the side, running to answer the thing.

The guitarist cleared his throat before asking, “Yeah?”

“Hello, I have a woman here that says he knows you.” the woman’s voice was tinted with suspiciousness.

“Name?”

Adam waited for longer than expected, listening quietly while the woman at the front desk asked the other person waiting.

“Nadia Parton.” she finally gave Adam a name.

‘Shit, what was she doing there?’

The receptionist did a strange sound urging Adam to inform her what he wanted to do with Nadia. “Do you know her?” Hann rolled his eyes at the question and her urgency when she took longer than him asking Nadia only her name.

“Yes, I do. Let her pass, please.” he was short and polite, although he didn't give her much information.

Adam hang up begging for a moment of peace that didn’t arrive.

…………………………………………….

Matty entered the room first, agitated as well since he played a bet with George that we would get up there before them and proceed to run upstairs. The run didn’t take his breath as much as witnessing Nadia talking calmly with Hann.

Nadia was there.

To say that Matty didn’t expect her was to highlight the obvious. Matty had been trying to push the conversation as far as he could, and she was there, three meters away from him. He believed he had more time. The universe works differently.

“Hi, baby.” she approached him excited. “Surprise!” Nadia said while hugging him. Matty didn’t know what to do really. He hugged her back and looked at his best friend. Adam moved his shoulder as a sign he knew nothing about this, he even didn’t dear to ask the girl in the half hour they shared.

“I wasn’t expecting you…” the words fell from his mouth.

Nadia took a step back still with her arms around his neck. “That was my intention. I wanted to surprise you, as you did for our anniversary.” she said sweetly. Matty felt a little bit more miserable with each word she dropped.

“Oh, right. I forgot some special occasion?” he inquired, lost.

She gifted him a big smile. “No, silly! I was missing you so much.” Nadia said, leaving a peak on his lips. A move that made Hann much more uncomfortable, sitting there just watching the scene as in a film. The studio’s phone rang once more, and he hadn’t been happier to hear that sound in his life.

Adam spoke with the secretary once more informing him that Jack was in his way up.

After he hung up, Adam tried to gain his friend’s attention at the same time he heard the guys approaching the studio.

“Matty.“ he said between his bandmate’s name and a cough, getting the attention of the couple, not only Matty’s.

The frontman looked at him for a second time in only minutes, “What?” his face expressionless.

“Jack is coming, and I think I hear the guys in the kitchen. ” Matty looked at him as if a second hand were growing beside the one holding the phone.

“Alright?”

Adam didn’t dare to look at Nadia. It wasn't rare that friends or family stay during the record sessions, but he was aware that Matty didn’t want her there right at that moment. Hann was trying to gain time and Matty wasn’t taking the hint.

Something must’ve clicked inside the singer’s brain because he continued saying, “Ah- Yes…I mean, top secret.” Matty moved far from Nadia’s embrace one because they were blocking the door and two because he was feeling guilty receiving so much caring he couldn't reciprocate. “Nad, would you give us a time alone? We won’t be long…just Jack checking some stuff about this-”

“Yes, yes…I knew I’ll have to when I planned the surprise.” she said, walking towards him. Matty couldn’t help feeling cornered, although he let her kiss him shortly before heading out of the studio.

When she was out of sight, and they were sure she wasn’t listening, Matty dared to ask, “Did you-?”

“Tell her something? Hell, no!” Hann said.

“Alright, alright…good.” Matty said, under his breath, passing around.

Neither of them continued the conversations. Adam looked how Matty walking in circles before turning around with his eye full of certainty.

“What?”

“I- “ Matty mumbled the words making it impossible for Adam to hear.

“Come again?”

Matty stood in the middle of the studio, opening his chest, “I’m going to break up with her.” Matty admitted and Adam doubt it.

“Right now?”

The singer chew on his upper lip, “It wasn’t in my plans she was going to- “

“Yeah, I can tell.” Hann said sarcastically.

“This is not funny!” Matty looked at him with a stern look.

“Yes, sorry. And then…?”

“I can’t focus on that now. I have to work”

“Yes, you have to.” neither of them knew if he was speaking about work or something else.

Adam grabbed the collar of his forgotten guitar, leaving his friend with his own thoughts.

……………………………………………….

Few hours later

Nadia wasn’t an idiot. She knew from a long time up to that moment the fact that Matty was dealing with something. She was confused though. Matty kept sending her way a lot of mixed signals. One day, she was everything to him, he followed her around, being the attended boyfriend or travelling for their anniversary, even though the next day, he was cold and doesn’t seem happy to see her in NY.

She continued dismissing it, thinking it was part of being with a rock star, or ‘Matty is Matty’, or ‘the album is stressing him’; everything instead of thinking he didn’t want her any more.

The woman was deeply in love with him, Nadia was sure of that. She was head over heels for him. But, was he? ‘Yes’. Why would he be with her if he wasn’t? Matty wasn’t that type of guy, and Matty had shown her that he loved her. Still, something was wrong. Nadia didn’t want to think about it. She was happy with him. Matty was everything she sought in a man. She could deal with this bad moment of their relationship because it would past…or she wanted to think.

After they wrapped for the day, Matty and the rest of the group returned to the hotel. Matty was drained, very tired, so he decided to wait for the next day to talk with Nadia. That’s why she stayed with him in his hotel room, and he was in peace with his thoughts for just a moment.

“Finally, alone.” she said, smiling at him.

“Yeah. I’m going to take a shower.” he said, going to his suitcase.

“Can I join you?” Nadia said cheekily.

“Nad, I’m not in the mood.” he responded, searching for his clothes.

“Oh, okay…” she said feeling slightly embarrassed. “I’m going to call room service, what do you want to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” Matty replied without looking at her, meanwhile he stood up walking slowly towards the bathroom.

Nadia left the phone on the side table, turning her body to face her boyfriend. Before Matty closed the door behind him, she exclaimed, “Fine, what’s going on?”

“What?” he didn’t turn around.

“Matty.“

The singer quickly got defensive, “I’m not hungry that’s all.”

“I’m not talking about the food and you know that.” she kept glancing at him. She could tell he was nervous, his back muscles were tight.

“I don’t- “

Nadia left the comfort of the mattress, standing in the middle of the room. “I know you, tell me what is going on.” with a courage she didn’t feel, Nadia approached him, placing a hand on his back and sensing Matty got stiff felt like a dagger ripping her heart.

“I’m knackered, okay? Can we not do this right now? “

“I’m tired of this, Matty. I need you to speak to me if you are going through something. We’re a couple!” she let her hand dropped to her side.

“I- “

Nadia felt desperate. “Please, tell me!”

“Okay.” he turned around. “Please, take a seat.” she obeyed, returning to her previous position.

“I wasn’t expecting you to show up- “ he started to say.

She couldn’t stay silent, her anxiety making her interrupt his rambling, “That’s everything? Me surprising you?”

“Please, let me finish.” Matty scrubbed his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t expect you to show up in fuckin’ New York, at the studio. I was waiting to fly back home and talk with you properly.” Matty continued, starting to gain power on his words. “I know my behaviour during the last months weren’t the best- In fact, they were the worst. I’m being a horrible boyfriend, and you don’t deserve this. Don’t- “ Matty stopped Nadia with a signal of his hand when she moved and before a single word fell from her lips. “Please, let me finish. I wasn’t expecting you, but when you showed I decided the best would be talking tomorrow when I’ll be more awake than now. I guess this can’t wait any longer. I know this is going to hurt you, and me too. You’ll hate me for this- “

“You’re scaring me, Matty.” Nadia said worriedly.

“I- I’m struggling a lot with myself. And I don’t think you should…you have to deal with it too.”

Nadia’s eyes stung with tears.“What are you suggesting?”

“I think we should break up.” ‘I said it, I finally did it’, Matty thought.

“What?” she asked surprised. “If it’s because I didn’t tell you or any of the guys that I was thinking on coming- I’m so sorry.” Nadia tried explaining quickly.

“That’s not why.”

“Then what? You don’t love me?”

“I- I do love you.”

“Then?” she moved on the bed anxiously.

“I love you, but there are things I can’t tell you that I’m dealing with…and you don’t deserve this.”

“There’s someone else?” Nadia hatred herself for asking that. She sounded so cliché.

“It’s not- It’s not exactly about that- “ he said sitting on the bed, reaching for her hand.

“Then what?” she asked again, looking down.

“I can’t- “

“Don’t you trust me?” she inquired, this time crying. She wanted to seem strong, she couldn’t.

“I do. I do. This is- I can’t even think about it without going insane.” he admitted.

They stay for a moment in complete silence. Both of them were hurt. Nadia’s heart was shattered in hundreds of pieces. Matty suffered watching her in that state. Fully knowing that he caused it.

“I’m so sorry.” Matty said verily out loud.

Nadia chocked on a sob, saying, “I love you, Matty.”

“I love you too, Nad.” he reached for her cheek, while she continued crying. “Please, don’t hate me. I mean, I understand if you want to punch me or kick me in the nuts.” she chuckled. “Please know that I’m doing this because you deserve so much better.”

“I don’t know.”

“I know it. It seems like the most horrible excuse, but I mean it. You’re an incredible person, women, and you deserve someone that loves you and treat you better than I do.” Matty admitted.

“I want you…”

“I know- “ Matty sadly said.

After a while Nadia tried to dry the tears that never stopped falling. She told Matty, “I better go.”

“You can stay till tomorrow.” He offered.

“I preferred not to.” she took out her hand from Matty’s grip.

“I’m so sorry.” Matty apologized again, staring at her form while she moved around the bed grabbing her stuff.

“I’m too. I wish you the best, Matty.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

Nadia titled her head, staring for a last time into his soft brown eyes, “You do. I hate you right now, and I don’t want to see you for a while.” she stated, meanwhile Matty answered with a nod. “Don’t reach for me when you are sad, well, you stop doing that a couple of months ago. I don’t understand why this happened but above all, I love you and I know you’re a good guy. You gave me a lot of beautiful moments to remember, you’re a kind soul. I know I don’t deserve this, although you have to know that I stay because you're worth the wait…and if you tell me there is a little part of you that wants me to wait I’ll probably wait. I know you don’t have that part.” she said when Matty opened his mouth to speak. “It hurts so..so much, because I know, I’m sure, that in your own way you love me, you said it too. Sadly, not as much I love you. Because I love you fully. When I love I do it that way.” Nadia stopped and dried her tears once more. “For all we shared and how much I cherish you…I wish you the best. Goodbye, Matty.” she finally said, turning around, graving her suitcase and then left the room.

When the click of the door made a loud noise in the silent room, Matty started to cry. He hurt one of the most important people in his life. Nadia was gone. Matty knew it was the best, and he also knew it was going to hurt. Not that much. He couldn’t complain though.

She didn’t shout, Nadia didn’t even raise her voice. Which, made it more difficult to deal with. Sometimes, it is easier to hate the other and shout. Not the best, or healthiest, just easier. That time was the opposite

Why does he keep hurting the people that love him deeply?

………………………………………………..

The next morning Hann found an obviously tired Matty. The guitarist wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask or not. Something clearly happened, the singer’s face showed it.

They had a free day, luckily for everybody. A couple of days ago, they decided to be the typical tourist and walk around town. Matty wasn’t in the mood for that even though it might help.

Adam knocked on Matty’s door two hours before the activity started. The frontman took his time to prepare even though he ended up showing with a simple shirt and jeans combo. Hann was expecting to encounter Nadia, but she was nowhere to be found. That gave him the first hint. He also remembers what Matty told him the day before. He wasn’t expecting his friend to be so quick about it. Although, he couldn’t assume anything. Adam didn’t want to. He was going to wait for Matty to come around and speak about it.

They stayed in silence for a good amount of time. Matty plopped himself on the bed and rest his head on his hands after opening the room’s door for his friend.

“Nadia left.” he informed Adam when the eyes of the guitarist scanned the room.

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Mhm.” Hann only dared to express.

“We- I broke up with her.” Matty looked at his best friend, waiting for a reaction.

Adam showed nothing, “Okay.”

“It was the correct thing…right?” he hesitated.

“I’m not going to tell you what it’s or what it isn’t right, Matty.” Adam clarified.

“Damn it!” Matty projected himself out of the bed.

“Take it easy, mate.” the guitarist said with a calm Matty envied.

“How? I mean, HOW? She hates me now. I’m an asshole!”

“Okay, no. Yes, you did pretty fuck up things…although you can’t beat yourself up like at. Everybody makes mistakes, you’re trying to solve them. Focus on that. It’s not nice, because you realize big things, feelings and I understand you’re hurt- “

“I can’t make myself the victim. I know.”

“No, you can’t. Although this is not a Disney film, there’s not a good guy and a bad one.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Matty let a big breath out. “What I do now? I broke up with Nadia, and Y/n is…” the singer started to tell him, and then stop.

“Y/n what?”

“Nothin’.” Matty muttered.

“Oh, no. You’re going to tell me.” the frontman was satisfied with Adam’s nervousness.

“Don’t you know?” Matty inquired.

“About what?”

“Y/n is in a relationship.” just saying the words hurt as if someone was ripping his heart out of his body.

“Oh, shit. Did she tell you?”

“No, mom did.”

“Your mother told you?!”

“And then George quite of confirmed it.”

“Fuckin’ hell.”

“Yeah, exactly. I hate my life right now.”

“Don’t..”

“Let me be miserable for a minute, okay?”

“No.”

“Please.” Matty begged without caring.

“No.”

“Hann!”

“You said it…you’re not the victim. Suck it up, mate!”

Matty scoffed, “Very kind of you.”

“I’m trying to help!”

“Well, you’re not helping…at all.” Matty snapped at him. And quickly regretted it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” the frontman took a sit on the bed once more and Adam copied him.

“I understand.”

“Why didn’t she tell me? Or you? Instead, she told George and mom…”

“I don’t know.” Hann lied. He perfectly knew why. He wasn’t even hurt. Hann knew the reasons why Y/n tend to skip talking to him about this stuff. He couldn’t tell Matty though, it wasn’t his thing to tell.

“Should I call her?”

“What? Are you insane?” Adam exclaimed.

“Fine. Yeah, I’m not going to…” Matty hesitated even when the urge to do it was big.

“Please promise me you’ll not.” Hann begged, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“I promise.” No matter how hard it will be, Matty had to stop hurting the people he loved. The first one was Y/n. Somehow, he hurt her. He doesn’t understand why quite well, but he knew it. He can ask her about how was she doing and all of that, although if she didn’t want to tell him about Tom…he had to stay out of that.

Matty had to focus on work again and work only. When he returned home in a month or so he could think what to do. For the time being, he had to fix himself and stay out of more problems.

————————————————————————————–

On the other side of the ocean

Spring was one of her favourite seasons. Y/n loved all of it. From the flowers starting to blossom to the mild temperatures and all in the middle it was a lovely season. Or maybe this year she was looking at it with other eyes.

The woman was happy beyond the imagination. Finally, after many months she was in fact and without a doubt happy. She longed for that moment and now she had it. The positivity she irradiated was amazing. Y/n was giving so much, and the universe responded or herself in a state of pure happiness wanted to believe that.

Y/n was euphoric for all the work she had done in the previously few months with herself, how much she grew. She took a step aside from the horrible place where she was, Y/n took a place aside from being the cliché girl in love with her best friend. But it wasn’t all her merit, she had a big helper. She had a handsome helper: Tom.

Y/n never felt what she felt with Tom.

Tom was everything she ever dreamed of: he was always attentive with her, but not overwhelming her, he understood her reserves and didn’t complain; they talked about everything and nothing, every conversation was perfect. Sometimes, they fought about their strong beliefs, but they also end up kissing and hugging. Y/n was happy with Tom.

She didn’t tell Tom about Matty. Y/n didn’t see why. She wasn’t thinking about that as well. Tom and her talked by text and she was okay with that. After all, he was her friend, and she promised not to disappear. She still had affection for him of course.

Anyway, Y/n was living in a dream. Work was going well, she was kind of sad because they had only one week left of filming, and then she would be back home. This time with Tom. They talked about it fully, feeling extremely happy that both of them were in the same page about continuing dating. Tom lived closer to the centre of London, and she was only 20 minutes away by car from there. They could make it work out.

Since they were in the last week of shooting, Y/n had a lot of work in hand. They had to leave everything perfectly done, and she had pressure about helping Lily accomplish all of what was expected from her.

“Please, could you leave those papers and hung out with me?” Lily begged, sitting in her trailer’s couch.

“You know I really want that, but I can’t.” Y/n continue going through the schedule.

“Agh!” Lily scoffed. “You’re not fun any more.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at her, “We see each other every day! Don’t overreact.”

“That’s exactly why…we have only a handful of days to be together and then- “

“And then, we’ll see each other as well.” Y/n turned around, looking at her.

“You’ll be so busy with your prince charming!”

“Omg, don’t call him that!”

“Being all happy and loving each other.” Lily continued with her rant, making weird sounds that tried to emulate kissing.

“You’re impossible.” Y/n returned to her papers.

“Talking about Romeo!” Lily exclaimed. Y/n didn’t understand until she heard a voice.

“Were you talking about me? I’m flattered.” Tom looked at Y/n, approaching her and the woman couldn’t help noticing her stomach sprung to life with excitement.

“She was talking about you.” Lily pointed like a little girl.

“Oh, really?” Tom crocked an eyebrow while placing his arms around Y/n.

“Yes, about how she’s going to ignore me- like right now- and be all lovely jolly with you.”

“I don’t want to brag but- I’m pretty cool so- “ Tom joked. Leaving a kiss at the back of Y/n’s head.

“Oh, you shut up!” Lily said standing up. “I’m going to leave you two to it…” and then she left without waiting for an answer.

“Lily!” Y/n exclaimed, shaking her head disappointed but laughing before turning to face Tom. “Hi”

“Hi.” Tom looked down at her eyes. His height always amused her, Y/n felt secured with him being so tall, she didn’t know exactly with, but she did.

“Did you need something?” she inquired, placing her hands on his chest.

“Yes.”

“Oh, what?”

“You.”

“Cheesy, way too cheesy, Tom.” she laughed.

“It’s the truth.” he replied, kneeling down to meet her lips.

…………………………………………………

Sad day, last day

The last day of shooting and the day before that one with the big wrap party, Y/n felt really emotional. This production gave her more than she could ever ask for: a lot of experience and work, of course, but also friendships and a lovely boy. She was more than grateful with it.

Y/n was leaving that day with Tom and Lily. He brought his stuff a couple of days before so when they had to leave, they went straight from the Airbnb that Lily and Y/n shared towards the airport. It was more practical and that let Tom and Y/n spend nights together.

Y/n woke pretty early sensing the warmth that Tom’s body spread. Her head was in his chest, and his arms were around her form. She let a sigh out in pure bliss. Tom moved a little, waking up as well.

“Morning.” he said in a raspy voice.

“Morning.” she smiled, propping herself up staring down at him. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. After that intense activity- “

“Tom! Stop that!” she whined.

“Okay, okay. Now you’re shy but last night- “

“Omg, shh!” she shushed him, trying to leave his side.

“No, come back here.” he begged.

“Such a baby.” she teased.

“Thanks.” he answered laughing after she was only centimetres away from his face. “I need my morning kiss, y’know.”

“Oh, really? I don’t know.” she played dumb.

“Please? I’ll stop saying how hot last night was.” he chuckled.

“Exactly, no. You lost your opportunity.” she tried to stand up, but quickly Tom pulled her into the mattress.

“Why so shy so suddenly, darling?” Tom asked. The nickname made her think about Matty, making her instantly felt bad. Now she was fully aware they were coming home. “Hey.” he tried to get her attention when Y/n’s sight fell elsewhere, lost. “If it’s so bad to kiss me and think about us having- “

“Stop!” she placed her hands on his mouth, laughing at the same time. “I just- I don’t want to get back home.”

“Why?”

Her hands found his curls quickly, “I’m not going to see you every day.”

“And then I’m clingy?” he inquired, leaning down to caress her throat with his nose, taking her in.

“Oh, forget it!”

“No. I’m sad about that too, believe me. But, we don’t live that far from each other.”

“I know, but…”

“Stop with the but’s. I want my kiss.” he said, reaching her face to finally kissed her.

Tom’s kisses were like no other ones in her life. Y/n didn’t kiss many boys but she was sure none of them kissed like him. He made her feel inexplicable feelings. He was tender and kind, but hot and torrid at the same time. Tom treated her as if Y/n was made of porcelain, with so much love and caring. She was getting addicted to him.

Tom was like her favourite season. Tom felt like spring.

………………………..

After the three of them left for the airport, Tom acknowledged quickly how clingy Y/n was being. In fact, he was making most of it because she was rarely like that around other people. Neither of them was. He kept her close. Hugging her or taking her hand. Subtle forms of ‘I’m here, we’re okay’. Y/n was glad he noticed. It amazed her how well he understood her when they had only known each other for nearly 10 months. He was going to miss him, no matter if he was close, and they already had plans to meet in London.

Y/n was trying to avoid overthinking her behaviour. She succeeded until they took the plane home, and Tom fell asleep.

For a while, she admired his face and features. She didn’t want to appear creepy, so she turned her sight to the clouds. The sky was almost black. She could still picture the lights of the city, of Ireland. Then, the sea came into her view. Y/n always felt a big connection with the water no matter how much she loved the earth, the land. There was something so deep and meaningful about water that amazed her. Maybe, it was the fact that you can reflect yourself on water. At that moment she couldn’t picture her figure from so afar even though the colour and the depends on the Irish Sea made her look inside herself.

The inner talk was something she avoided a little since her relationship with Tom started. On the other hand, you can’t stop yourself from thinking. You have to, if you don’t talk with yourself how would you know what you want and what you have to do to get better?

Y/n felt that she failed to herself in that part. Yes, she wanted to be happy. She was happy. But she repeated something she acknowledges a way back. She avoided Matty. Well, she didn’t, they talked even though she avoided her feelings or not feelings for him. She avoided thinking about which position she was in about him. And that was a little bit wrong. Not because she was happy with Tom she could keep avoiding her problems, avoid Matty.

Y/n wanted to solve her situation. She wanted to get back to her friendship with Matty as it was. Without knowing, she drifted more apart after she repeated that to herself.

She didn’t tell her best friend about the amazing relationship she was in now. Of course, Y/n had her reasons. Although, if she wanted to get back to be just friends…didn’t friend tell each other things like this? Matty told her about him and Nadia back then.

She wanted to tell him, but after two months or so Y/n wanted to do it in person. Matty was in New York at the moment, which made that quite difficult. Maybe when he returned. She knew he would get angry, that’s why she wanted to somehow explain it to him. She would have to lie a little bit longer…for the last time.

Y/n had to admit to herself, she missed him. She missed the whole gang. She missed her English family. That was why she was also happy to be back. Not everything was awful.

Y/n came back to real life once the plane started the descended and Tom woke up. She tried to enjoy those last minutes. Yeah, she knew she was kind of overreacting, but she couldn’t avoid it. As well as oceans, she was restless…to many feelings. As well as oceans, she was going to settle. The calm was here. Or that was what she liked to think.

………………………………….

Two weeks after

Two more weeks went by during which Matty was still unhappy and troubled. That time not only due to Y/n and his feelings, this time because of the coronavirus. They had to return home. Sadly, the cases were rasing in so little time, that the government was closing down everything again.

For the album, Matty wasn’t preoccupied because with the rumours of this happening they managed to do most of the works left, and they wrapped a day before the announcement. And they could always continue from home.

Staying in New York was an option, although they had been gone for a long while. George was missing his girlfriend, Adam his child, Ross his family and Matty the comfort of home. They preferred to return home. Back in England, the situation wasn’t bad but also not good. The government was considering closing everything again, they didn’t have news about it.

A part of Matty wasn’t sure if he wanted to get back. Part of him wanted, he missed his family, his shared house with the boys, and everything. Another part, didn’t want to get back though. Too many things to deal with. Being out of the country, wherever work took him, he was available to stay far from his normal problems, or he had that illusion.

Anyway, coming home was exhausting. More during the corona time. Having to use the face mask and all the protocols. He wasn’t complaining, he supports taking care of the rest and his wealth. It just adds a lot on his shoulders and made him more tired.

Once he returned, Matty spent a lot of time inside his room playing games or writing, he even went on a walk with Denise for a short time.

He knew Y/n was also back home, and she sometimes met up with George and the rest. Although, he wasn’t ready to see her. They still talk by message, they avoid the topic. Even when Y/n knew very well he was at home, she mentioned nothing. She didn’t want to push him, and at the same time, she was spending time in London for a good amount of time with Tom.

So, yeah, Matty wasn’t ready for what life, the universe or God had under her/his sleeve this time.

……………………………….

Sunny Sunday

A week prior to the dinner, Denise started begging and bugging him to get all together. She said, ‘let’s share a nice meal at this place closer to you guys now that we’re allowed before everything closes again, Matty!’ and no matter how much he tried she won. The boys were excited to see new faces after weeks of only seeing each other working to get the record ready to publish.

Matty and Hann arrived at the restaurant first but they waited at the car park for the rest to arrive. They did minutes after.

“Hi, boys!” Denise said, very happily.

“Hi, mom.” Matty was the first greeting her.

“Hello.”

“Why so happy?” George inquired.

“Can’t I be happy for seein’ you handsome boys?” she asked, innocently.

“Mom…” Matty knew better.

“Okay, okay. I have a surprise for you all!”

Ross got all excited like a little kid during Christmas, “What?”

“Patience, dear. We have to wait a little longer before it arrives. Well, it’s not a thing, is a person.” Denise’s smile was wide.

“I’m not following.” Adam interrupted.

Louis interfered, “Me neither. But, you get used to it.” and the rest chuckled.