#*me watching end of time during the master race scene whispering* lots of me

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Alright I just rewatched End of Time so it's the perfect time to inflict this on all of you

LISTEN. Ever since I watched Night of the Living Pharmacists I have been thinking about how it's just like the time the Master made himself all the people on Earth. I have no idea what to do with this information.

Also apparently the difference between making everyone in the world clones of yourself intentionally vs. unintentionally is that if you do it intentionally they obey you. Oh and they're not zombies.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Riverdale//without you i’d be nothing

Request: Reader plays a Northsider River Vixen on Riverdale and when the show’s on hiatus the cast takes a trip to New Orleans and her boyfriend Douglas Booth invites them to see him film a scene as Nikki Sixx for the Netflix movie The Dirt and he and reader are super cute after he finishes the scene and the cast totally ships them. The scene is from the YouTube video The Dirt - Shout at the Devil/with backstage (Turkish subtitle). Nikki’s bass guitar in the opening of the scene is really cool.

hey! i really hope you like this!! and i also hope you’re having a good day! 

“Hey guys! It’s me, Madelaine and welcome to the last day of shooting before our hiatus!” Madelaine beams into the camera and you lift your head up from your phone to watch her talk excitedly at the camera. 

“I’m sort of sad because I’m gonna miss all of these.” She does a twirl to show off the rest of the cast sat waiting to start filming and they all take a break from talking to wave and smile at the camera. “But I am very excited for the break. Plus, we won’t really be away from each other for long because in a few days we’re going on holiday!! Aren’t we guys!” She asks and zooms in on Charles while he scrolls through his phone. 

“Huh?” He asks when he feels everyone looking at him. You all stifle a laugh before looking back at Madelaine again. 

“Okay, let’s see what everyone is doing.” She smiles playfully and wiggles her eyebrows before flipping the camera and choosing who to annoy first. “KJ. What are you doing?” 

“Eating.” He replies through a mouthful of food before glaring at the red-head. 

“Vanessa?” 

“Ignoring you.” She replies, not bothering to look up from her phone. 

“You know, you all think that Vanessa is lovely, but this is what I have to put up with.” Madelaine frowns. “What about you Y/n?” She asks and you glance at her before sending your text. 

“She’s texting her boyfriend.” Jordan teases as he looks over your shoulder and you roll your eyes at his childishness. “Aww, they’re sending each other kisses. And now she’s opening Instagram and liking a picture of him-wait, that’s not his real hair is it?” He asks and you send him a look. 

“Of course not.” You laugh. “It’s his costume, for the Mötley Crüe movie.” 

“Ohh.” He replies. “Okay.” He starts again, faking a British accent and you roll your eyes again. “Now, she is liking the photo of her boyfriend and his cast members. She’s typing something and now she’s going into her notes and typing something else. It’s for me, and it says Jordan...fuck off.” He trails off and a playful pout replaces his smile. 

“Somebody please send help.” Madelaine deadpans as she flips the camera back. “I’m gonna have to put up with all of this for another week.” 

“Holy shit.” Madelaine mouths as she shoves the camera in her backpack. The rest of the cast are just as mesmerised with the stage set up in front of them. 

The stage is more light than actual stage and for a while you can’t really decipher between the lights and the many, many speakers they have. Four microphones are dotted around the black stage, just waiting for sound. The guitar amps wait to be plugged in and you remember watching Douglas walk in and out of your bedroom as he tried to master the way Nickki Sixx would walk on stage. Tommy Lee’s drum sits at the back of the stage and the pentagram really brings the whole dark aesthetic together. 

It genuinely looks like one of their shows. After Doug was offered the role, the two of you sat and watched countless videos of their shows together, just so he could really get into his role.

Normally you’d join them in staring wide-eyed at the bright set, but you’re too excited to see Doug that you can barely take in anything surrounding you other than him. Your eyes scan the countless people passing by. Crew members carrying large speakers and microphones back and forth, and hundreds of extra’s mill about around you, making you feel like you’ve just walked through a time machine. 

You feel eyes on you and it’s only when you look back at them do you realize you were bouncing slightly. 

“Be cool.” Jordan shakes his head and you flip him off making him feign offence. 

“Can I help you guys?” A woman asks and you quickly direct your attention to her. 

“Hi!” You beam. “Douglas Booth invited us to watch him. He said he got the okay from the director. I’m Y/n, his girlfriend. Nice to meet you!” You smile and stick your hand out in front of her. She blinks, trying to process what you’ve just said in the short space of time before a small smile twitches at her lips and she introduces herself. 

“I’m Amy.” She replies. “And I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you in person instead of being shown countless of pictures of you.” She teases and your cheeks heat up.

Cami and Lili share a look before nudging you and you stare at the floor, too embarrassed to look at them again. 

“Come with me.” She tells the rest of the group. “And help yourself to snacks and drinks.” She says and everyone’s head’s perk up at the mention of food. “We’re just about to film, they’re putting the final touches to everything, but if I see Doug I’ll let him know you’re here.” 

“Thank you!” You grin and sit down. Behind the camera’s are a bunch of seats, none of which match and it’s a race between the ten of you to get the comfiest seats first. It ends in KJ and Casey standing and they grumble quietly to each other while the rest of you smile sarcastically back at them. 

“Okay. Quiet on set!” Someone shouts and you stand up to crane your neck over the camera’s. For a second everything’s quiet, and then the lights go up and everyone screams. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, from Los Angeles, Mötley Crüe!”

Douglas looks out into the crowd and your sure he’s seen you, despite the room full of people. Then the lights come up and the spark machines go off leaving all you to stare in awe at what is happening. 

The sound of drums pound along with your heart while you watch your boyfriend transform into somebody else in front of your very eyes. He strums the guitar in time and hops backwards while looking out into the darkened crowd and you follow his gaze, wanting to see what he’s seeing. 

You watch as the camera zooms in on Douglas’ strumming and you nudge Cami excitledy as you point proudly at him. She stifles a laugh before the two of you continuing watching. 

“Title track is from our up and coming album. We call it ‘Shout At The Devil’” Danny shouts and the crowd goes wild. The camera zooms in on Iwan playing guitar.  

‘Shout, shout, shout!” They sing, the camera zooming into each of them, focusing longer on Colson as he twirls the drum sticks around in his fingers.  “Shout, shout, shout! Shout at the devil.” Danny kicks his leg out and does a spin before starting to sing again and you can’t believe what you’re seeing. 

They all look so cool! Especially Douglas and you can understand why bands back in the day had so many groupies if they did stuff like this on the stage. The atmosphere is electric and it’s not even a real concert, so you can only dream of what it would feel like to be at a real one.  “He's the wolf screaming lonely in the night. He's the blood stain on the stage.” Danny points out into the crowd and you hear a few screams and squeals making you laugh. “He's the tear in your eye. Been tempted by his lie.” Douglas rocks back and forth, and despite your earlier teasing through texts about the wig, it does look good when he’s up there head banging. “He's the knife in your back, he's rage!” Colson raises a hand in the air before banging the drums again. 

Danny leans forward, his voice going up an octave and you watch impressed. “He's the razor to the knife. Oh, lonely is our lives. My head's spinning 'round and 'round.” He points out into the crowd again and you catch Pete Davidson’s eye. 

Colson throws a drumstick in the air again before drumming, and you don’t know where to look anymore. There’s so many incredible things happening and you wish you could film this or take a picture or something so you can remember. It’s going to be amazing when you see it in the actual film, but to see it being recorded in real life, that’s something you don’t think any movie theatre will be able to live up to. 

“But in the seasons of wither, we'll stand and deliver. Be strong and laugh and-” 

“Shout, shout, shout. Shout at the devil! Shout, shout, shout!” Flames erupt from the stage during each beat and all ten of your eyes widen when you see someone flash the band. They head bang and jump around and your eyes widen each second that passes. 

But it’s over far sooner than you’d like it to be. You could spent forever watching your boyfriend pretend to be a famous rockstar, and you’re surprised at how at home he looks up on stage. 

The band shout and cheer, before the director shouts cut and they suddenly all erupt into laughter. Douglas and Iwan high five before they disappear off stage and previously still crew members start moving again. They hurry past you, with props, costumes and coffee in hand. 

And you wait excitedly for Douglas to appear. 

“So, we’re on the set of a super important Netflix movie. We’ve just watched them film literally the best thing ever. Like I have goosebumps, look. Anyway, I’m not gonna show you much, but I am going to show you this.” Madelaine whispers, a soft smile lighting up her face before she flips the camera and zooms in on you and Douglas. 

You wrap your arms around him and he picks you up, twirling you around making you squeal. He puts you back on the floor and wastes no time in capturing your lips in a kiss. You’ve been waiting months to kiss him again and it was definitely worth it, even if he is wearing that ridiculously large wig. 

“I’ve missed you so much baby.” You mumble against his lips. 

“Me too.” He replies and kisses you again. 

Madelaine flips the camera back to her and she pouts in response to how cute the two of you are. 

“She hasn’t shut up about him since he invited us out here.” She says and rolls her eyes. “It’s been the only thing we’ve heard. Hasn’t it V?” She asks the shorter girl as she walks behind her. 

“What?” Vanessa asks and takes a sip of the coffee Cole stole for her from the snack table. 

“Y/n and Doug.” It’s only three words, but it sets Vanessa off into a whole ramble about how excited you’ve been to see him. 

“It’s a good job they’re cute.” She replies making Vanessa giggle and the two of them watch as you and Doug catch up with each other. You move his wig from his face and he smiles thankfully, before kissing your cheek. “Something that isn’t cute though is these two.” Madelaine interrupts her own vlog by swapping the camera again and zooming in on Jordan and Drew taking pictures of each other with badly put on wigs. 

Her and Vanessa shake their head and watch as they laugh loudly and try to knock the other ones off their head. However their laughter soon dies down when a crew member comes over and scolds them for tampering with props, and now it’s Vanessa and Madelaine’s’s turn to laugh. 

“I can’t wait for the internet to see that.” Vanessa giggles before sending a disapproving look at the two men now pouting sadly in the corner. 

“Knowing them, it’ll just make more people love them.” Madelaine rolls her eyes. She turns the camera off and lets Vanessa lead her to where the majority of the cast are. 

“Hi guys.” Douglas introduces himself nervously and the conversations slowly die out. You stand beside Doug, your hand in his to keep him calm and a reassuring smile on your face. 

He’s never normally nervous when meeting new people, however he’s only ever met a few of these people a handful of times and he knows how important they are to you so he wants to make the best impression he possibly can. 

Although, you’re pretty sure he already has done with that they’ve just watched. You’re sure that could turn even the most cynical and hard to impress people, so you’re not worried. 

“Hi!” They all reply, each of them moving to shake his hand first. 

“Can I just say, that was great. I’ve never seen anything like it!” Drew gushes and Doug waves him off bashfully. 

“Seriously. Y/n is very lucky.” Jordan replies making you shove him lightly. 

“I’m definitely the lucky one.” Doug replies and kisses you gently. Your friends roll their eyes and gag in response, but you know they’re doing it out of love. 

“So, how are you all enjoying New Orleans?” He changes the subject.

“We haven’t really seen much of it. We got here yesterday and we spent the majority of it sleeping.” Casey explains making him frown. 

“Why don’t we go sightseeing.” He smiles. “Before you guys get kicked out.” He adds and looks at Jordan and Drew who smile back awkwardly. 

“You guys go ahead.” You interrupt. “We’ll catch up with you.” 

“Ooo.” KJ teases and you flip him off making him laugh loudly. “Get out.” You shove him and Lili grabs his arm pulling him towards the exit. The rest of the gang follow until it’s just you and Doug standing in an empty room. You’re only company is the very large snack table and various chairs dotted around the room. 

“I’ve missed you so fucking much.” You admit and wrap him into a tight hug. He wheezes at the force but hugs you back and warmth fills your chest. “You were also amazing up there. I mean, it was like I was at a proper concert!” You ramble proudly and he rolls his eyes. “You are so talented.” 

“Nah.” He shakes his head and you send him a glare. “It was all you, you’re my good luck charm.” 

---

March 18, 2019, ArcLight, Hollywood. 

The fabric of your dress, bunches and un-bunches in your clammy palm. The pale blue silk is soft against your skin and it’s quite a comforting feeling, it’s good to know that you can still feel something, even if the rest of you does feel numb. 

Camera’s flash outside the tinted windows of the black car, and you can hear hundreds of people shouting and screaming. The last time you were at a movie premiere, it didn’t feel anything like this, and it’s not even your movie. You wonder if you maybe need to do more than two acting jobs to get used to stuff like this, maybe you never get used to it. 

The more you think of it, the weirder it feels. All of those people lining the streets and wanting to take pictures of you. Riverdale premiers feel a whole lot less scary than movie ones. You thought it was because you always have your friends around you, or maybe because you’ve been to every single one of them since the show started, you kind of know what to expect as they’re all the same. 

But then you glance at Doug and you feel a whole new set of nerves creep up on you. He looks so good in his suit, and you watch his fingers tap anxiously against his knee as the two of you wait for the door to opened. 

Maybe you’re more nervous because it’s him. You have no reason to be though, the small part that you saw being filmed was amazing, and if the whole film is like that, then he’s got nothing to worry about. But you know he’s nervous and maybe that’s what’s making you feel the same. 

“Doug?” You place a gentle hand over his, stilling the movements of his fingers and he looks back at you, his expression softening as he takes you in. 

“You look beautiful.” He smiles and presses a kiss to the back of your hand. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You reply and he rolls his eyes. “Are you okay?” You ask and the question seems to take him by surprise.

“Yeah-I. Why wouldn’t I be?” He stutters and you send him a look. He knows you can read him like a book, it’s something you seemed to have mastered by the first day you met him. 

“You just seem a little nervous.” You shrug and give his hand a squeeze. 

“I’m okay.” He shakes his head. “Maybe just a little bit. But nerves are good.” He finishes and you look at him unsure. “Why? Are you nervous?” 

“A little bit.” You admit and drop his gaze. His finger hooks under your chin and pulls it up again so you can look at him. His hazel eyes seem to see straight through you and the way he’s looking at you makes your heartbeat increase. For a few seconds, it just feels like the two of you sitting in the tiny cab. 

The rest of the world disappears, it’s just you and him, and that’s all you could ever really need.  

“Come on, you’ve done scarier things. Remember when you found out you had to do that British accent. I’m pretty sure you told me, you’d considered dropping out of the film.” He says and you nod your head. 

“I suppose, yeah.” You agree. “That was very nerve-racking. Especially when I had to do it in front of the cutest British boy I’d ever met.” You add and he rolls his eyes playfully. The two of you giggle quietly to yourselves

“We’re ready for you.” A tall man dressed all in black tells you once opening the door. You look at Doug and the two of you take a deep breath. 

“Are you ready?” You ask and he nods slowly. 

“As I’ll ever be.” He grins and you mirror it. The nerves turning to excitement when you think about how proud you are of him. “Wait!” He shouts and you freeze, dropping your purse in fright. “Sorry.” He apologises awkwardly and you roll your eyes at him. “I just wanted to get a picture with you before we’re both whisked off by our adorning fans. I want to show off how lucky I am, and I want Danny to see what he’s missing.”

“Where did you say he was again?” 

“He’s off filming some other film. But I think he did a video message or something, basically thanking everyone.” He replies. 

“Oh, that’s sweet.” You nod. “Anyway, adorning fans?” You repeat and he nods, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “You know this is a premier for a film that you’re in right? I’ve got nothing to do with this.” 

“One. We all know that the majority of the people here, are here for you because they just assume you’re coming with me.” 

“They assumed correctly.” You nod and cross your arms. You raise an eyebrow as you wait for him to continue with this point that you know is going to be stupid. 

“And two. You have everything to do with this.” He says and your roll your eyes, pushing him bashfully. “I’m being serious Y/n.” He says, making you look at him. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have had the confidence to say yes to all the offers I got, I wouldn’t have been able to recover from the many no’s. I wouldn’t have been able to learn my scripts and come to you for advice and support and just for a hug. This has everything to do with you, and the way you looked at me when you watched me film, gave me all the confidence I needed to keep going, even when the hours were long and I missed you like crazy.” 

“Douglas Booth, you’re going to make me cry and my makeup is perfect.” 

“And you look beautiful.” He replies and wipes a stray tear away. A curl falls in front of your face and he tucks it behind your ear, his fingers leaving a trail of heat along your jawline. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You laugh and wipe away another tear. 

He gives you one last smile before grabbing your hand. You step out of the cab and into the bright flashing lights and the overwhelming sound of your names being shouted. He looks back at you, concern growing in his eyes but you grin back at him and he mirrors it. 

The two of you make your way up the red carpet, posing together and separately as people shout your name from all angles. The camera’s always disorient you, but as soon as you’re back beside Douglas and he wraps an arm around you waist, you feel yourself become more comfortable with the sheer amount of press. 

Douglas talks to a few of his co-stars and you take the few minutes of zero attention to really take in the moment. There’s so many people here, all of them to see your talented boyfriend and his friends and you feel like your heart is going to burst with pride. 

Your gaze catches Jordan, Drew and KJ, all three of which are staring wide eyed as the real Mötley Crüe walk the red carpet. You watch as they try their hardest not to implode and a chuckle escapes your lips when they finally realize that you’re watching them. 

“Holy shit!” Jordan mouths and you roll your eyes. Drew points awkwardly at them and KJ makes small talk with Tommy Lee before he stares at you in shock. 

“Be cool!” You mouth back and roll your eyes at your friends. The three of them just stare back at you in shock before they notice Vanessa and Madelaine having a full on conversation with all four members. 

It looks like they’ve just bumped into each at the grocery store with the way they’re talking to each other, and even you must look a little surprised. 

“I’ve seen you’re show!” Nikki says and your jaw drops. “It’s fucking weird.” He adds making the girls laugh. 

“Yeah.” Madelaine nods. “It sure is.” She adds before they walk away to get their pictures taken. Madelaine and Vanessa stare at each other, frozen for a few seconds before they grab each others arms and squeal. 

“Your friends sure are weird.” Vince says and it takes you a few seconds to realise he’s talking to you. 

“Oh yeah. There are.” You laugh awkwardly and the rest of the band greet you. You take a second to glance back at your friends who are all staring at you with varying degrees of shock on their face. 

“Are you ready to go in?” Doug pulls your attention away from the silent conversation you’re trying to have with Vanessa, and a soft smile graces your lips. 

“More than ready.” You nod excitedly. “I’m so proud of you baby.” You whisper in his ear and a blush creeps up his neck. 

“Not as proud as I am of you.” He replies and nudges your arm. The two of you take a deep breath before stepping through the door, ready for whatever adventure is waiting for you next. 

support my writing! if you want! 

[curiousconch]

Scarlet Letters

Chapter 2 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Prologue | Chapter 1

Chapter Synopsis: Grappling with the aftermath of her breakup with Rafael, Heather is faced by yet another threat, forcing her out of her apartment. Bryce and her other friends come to her aide.

Pairings: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 2.4k+ | Genre: Crime, Mystery, Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / language, hints of violence

Author’s Notes: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song. Please let me know if you want me to tag you in the next chapters. Comments and suggestions are certainly very welcome! Thank you for reading!

Heather can't remember how she covered the distance to her building, nor how she arrived in front of her apartment door. Grateful for the silence that embraced her as she got inside, she went directly to her room. Once the door shut closed, she finally let go of the flood that brimmed from her eyes. Crouching down on the carpeted floor, in that dark rainy night, she sobbed like never before.

What she can only remember is how hopeful she was tonight before it all ended.

She planned the surprise for him on the first day she landed in Maryland, coming to the realization that she was waging an unnecessary war against him and his efforts to comfort her. It never occurred to her that she will be too late.

She squinted at the picture of the bodies entangled in Rafael's living room couch. She can still vividly see it, along with the sound of the breaking bottle of wine she bought at the airport.

She heard rumors. That's all she thought it was - baseless whispers of people seeing Rafael with someone else. Even her friends Sienna and Elijah tried to warn her of what was happening, but she was so deep in denial that she didn't dare to listen. She trusted him that much.

Her sweet and charming Raf. Her savior. Her love. She never wanted to be so wrong as badly as she did at that moment.

The man whom she thought she exactly needed and wanted was the same person who wreaked havoc in her soul.

She wanted to forgive him, in her heart she wanted to give him another chance. But her brain screamed against it, her past life bursting in all shades of red inside her mind.

The portraits of her teenage years flashed before her eyes one by one, like horrific creatures escaping from her personal Pandora's box:

That fateful day she came home early because she was sick during her junior year in high school, the sound of voices in the master bedroom.

Her dad and a strange woman enamored.

The bags and boxes containing her father's belongings. The divorce and its fallout.

Her mom working night and day to put her through school, leaving her alone most of the time.

Cancer. Losing her mom because of it. The reason why she wanted to be a doctor.

It cost her half of her life to submerge those experiences in the trenches of her adolescence. But now, all of it was bursting over the surface, like large waves in the sea of her present. She felt like drowning.

Helpless, she wailed, wanting nothing but the indescribable hurt to fade away. But it didn't, instead, it stayed, for how long she have no idea.

With her ears ringing and her whole body sore, she fell into a troubled slumber. It wasn't until the next morning that she saw the scarlet letters painted on her walls.

***

Jordan huffed as he jogged away from the sidewalk into the alley nearby. His black hoodie cast a shadow dark enough to hide his face.

He discarded the plastic bags in the dumpster, a soft thump sounded as the spray paint canisters rattled against the bottom.

He found his way to his parked car nearby and jumped in, removing his leather gloves and shoving it into the compartment. He briefly looked at his watch - 10:36pm. He roughly had about 24 minutes before the meeting.

Backing up from the alley, he drove out to the main street and made sure he wasn't being followed. He took the next turn to the highway, flipping on his radio, humming along the music.

When he arrived at his destination, he found a nearly-empty parking lot. He found a solitary Lexus near the back fence and parked his car several meters away. He took a discreet path towards the black car and hopped inside, pulling the hood off his head.

"It's done," he spoke to a man in a suit at the back seat, and showed a picture of red spray paint on blue walls. "You'll hear it on the news tomorrow."

The man beside him silently nodded, sneering at the image. He withdrew a thick manila envelope from his side and gave it to Jordan.

"As requested,"

Jordan peeked into the contents, revealing a thick wad of cash and a glint of black metal.

Contented, he stepped out of the vehicle and got back to his own. Turning on the ignition, he thought to himself - Phase 1 check. Time for phase 2.

***

The sound of scrambling footsteps overlapped with the loud and panicked shrieks within the walls of Heather's bedroom.

Jackie came in first, ready to curse the abomination of Heather's screams as she came in to the apartment, after pulling an all-nighter. She stopped in her tracks darting at the direction where the other's frightened gaze was fixated.

After hearing Jackie's panicked shouts, Sienna and Elijah followed suit into Heather's bedroom. Upon entering, all their eyes shot across the pale blue wallpaper, a scene right out of a horror movie, coming to life in front of them.

LEAVE BOSTON NOW, OR ELSE.

The characters were sloppily written in red spray paint, as if someone spelled it in haste.

Sienna was the first one to rush to Heather's side, sliding an arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. Elijah got out of the room to call 911, muffling Jackie as she cursed with a mouth of sailor.

Within 15 minutes, the police arrived.

Elijah also sent a text to their group chat, alerting Aurora and the rest of their friends as to what just transpired.

A flurry of replies came in right after. Bryce's was among those text messages.

His face crumpled with anxiety as he sat staring blankly at his phone. He was in his office, his oak desk was filled with case files, all of which he recently dug out from the records department to assist on the reopening of the investigation.

This recent attempt to terrorize his star witness made him speechless. The person behind this is getting bold, he observed.

He decided to abandon his attempt to work on a Saturday, unable to quell his worries. He stood up, got his leather briefcase and made his way to the parking lot.

He drove as fast as he could, plying through traffic effortlessly, navigating the familiar route using muscle memory. He ran into their apartment building, and practically raced to the closing elevator to bring him to the penthouse.

When the familiar door came into view open, he let himself in, his eyes darting around.

Gone was the serenity of the brunches he shared with the group. The scene he stepped into was just chaos.

A barrage of yellow markers were strewn in the apartment, while several people were trying to collect any traces of evidence left behind by the perp. Police tape marked one doorway, a few voices discussing possible theories as to how the events unfolded.

In the middle of it was a frail figure wrapped in a thick gray blanket, and he instantly recognized who it was. "Hey," he managed to say coolly as he strode towards her.

Heather looked up at the towering figure who just crossed the living room. She offered a weak smile, trying to hide the turbulent emotions inside her.

Bryce could see right through her though, but he just smiled back, understanding that she wasn't quite ready to open up yet. As he reached out to touch her hand, he was interrupted by the sound of Rafael's booming voice as he stormed into the room.

"I came as I heard, are you alright?" Heather's boyfriend said as he rushed in to kneel down in front of her, looking very much concerned.

"What are you doing here?" The hatred in Heather's quiet voice made Bryce's eyebrows shoot up.

He saw Rafael immediately retreat, an apologetic look in his face, as if he forgot who he was. He saw Raf's instantaneous shift, then went to leave them to talk to the police at the now cordoned room.

He gently nudged Heather, a wordless question in his face. She shook her head and frowned, peeking at her roommates and the CSI team moving about the apartment.

Clearly, she didn't want to discuss it with strangers around, Bryce figured. He nodded, his eyes softening as he realized that there was more events to uncover beyond what he can see.

After an hour, the deputy in charge motioned for the group to gather in the living room. Once they were all there, he began to explain that Heather's room will be a designated crime scene indefinitely.

"I strongly suggest staying somewhere else, we don't know the and exact nature of this, at least not yet. Choose a place that offers the the most security, but preferably somewhere nearby."

With this, Bryce saw Rafael about to raise his hand. Seeing the panic in Heather's face, he quickly blocked the other man's attempt.

"Keiki's in boarding school, so I have a spare bedroom. You can stay there temporarily," he winked at Heather, assuring her that he got her back.

"Why should she stay with you? Rafael's an FBI agent. She should stay with him," Jackie contradicted as she stood behind Heather, unable to see her discomfort.

"But that's what exactly the attacker expects. We have to get one step ahead of them." Bryce countered.

"But Rafael's her -"

"Enough." One stern look from Heather was all it took to shut Jackie up, her other roommates visibly confused. She shot them each a pleading glance, making all eyes shift to Rafael's tall figure across the room. He immediately hunched his shoulders as if in concession.

"I'm staying with Bryce temporarily. He's right, we have to be at least a step ahead if I want to stay alive." She mouthed a thank you to Bryce, then turned back to her other friends. "Sienna, can I please borrow a few of your clothes? I can't touch anything in my room, except the suitcase I brought in from my trip."

"Of course." Sienna left the room while the others still shared a puzzled look between Heather and Rafael.

Agreeing to her new housing arrangements, the deputy nodded and excused himself, stepping out the apartment. He beckoned the rest of his team out before leaving behind his card, asking them to give him a call if they remember anything new. Taking that as his queue to leave, Rafael left after, looking deflated.

When the group was all that's left in the penthouse, Heather told them about the breakup, clearing the awkwardness from the room. She told them everything - from catching an early flight to surprise Rafael, to her ending up being the one surprised, witnessing her boyfriend's betrayal.

"That son-ov-a-bitch!" Jackie cussed, Elijah only shook his head. Bryce's reaction was a mixture of speechlessness and confusion.

"I-I know I've told you about my suspicions, but I had no idea Rafael had it in him to prove them right," a meek Sienna told Heather, her firm hand rubbing against her arm.

"Well however you look at it, he fucked up. So bad." Bryce whistled, his mouth stiff with the effort to wrestle with the truth bomb Heather just dropped.

"For once in this life, I agree with you, meathead," Jackie nodded to his direction, her eyes softening as she turned to comfort Heather in her own way.

They each tried to console her, but Heather insisted she was fine. Bryce saw her defensive body language, so he made it his mission to provide Heather an escape route.

"All right people, don't you have sleep to get to? Gotta keep you all well-rested. Can't have you bitten off your asses by Dr. Ramsey, am I right?" Apparently, the mention of the infamous grumpy attending was more than enough to make them back off.

He grabbed the duffel bag Sienna produced and grabbed her black suitcase along. Heather removed the thick blanket around her and replaced it with her brown trench coat hanging on the couch.

After what seemed like endless hugging and assuring each of them that she'll be fine, she followed Bryce into the elevator to the garage.

They loaded the bags onto his silver Camry's trunk in silence, and got into the car. Heather instantly sighed in relief as she settled into the passenger's seat. Bryce navigated his way out of the basement and into the street, his amber eyes alternately darting from the road to his friend.

"Well, you look like shit."

"Thanks?" she smiled back at him, unable to stifle a chuckle.

"No problem. You know I'm not one to give false commentary." He grinned, before finally focusing in his driving.

It wasn't long before they arrived in Bryce's sleek condominium complex. She knew the building was newly-built and probably the most secure residence in the city money can afford. Bryce called it Boston's Fort Knox, so when he offered his place, it seemed to be the best solution.

It was initially a bachelor's pad, with enough space for a kitchen, a living area with floor to ceiling windows, and two bedrooms. But over the past few months, it transformed into something more homey, a place where the Lahela siblings can call their own.

It wasn't Heather's first time there. She spent many of her day offs there, all just to help him with his relationship with Keiki, Bryce's teenage sister. She also had the most hand in how it looks inside now.

As they stepped into the condo, Bryce couldn't help but notice how Heather's looked around. The sight of her in his place brought back fond memories.

After a few moments, he urged her to move forward, and led her to the bedroom across the hall.

He unlocked the door and let her in, a mixture of yellow, blue and white interiors welcomed her. It was a homage to the sun, sea and sand of their native state Hawaii.

"Do you want anything? A drink? Something to eat? Boxing gloves to punch someone with?" Bryce leaned on the room's doorway, watching her as she settled in.

As if on queue, her stomach rumbled, and he can't help but laugh.

"Do you still have a pack of ramyun here? I'll come out to cook once I don't look like the piece of shit you just called me." Heather rolled her eyes at him, grabbing a towel from the nearby dresser.

"Nah, I'll whip it up myself you just make yourself presentable to eat my majestic korean noodles." He bowed to her like a butler would before setting course back to the kitchen.

She snickered as she stepped into the shower. Leave it to Bryce Lahela to lighten up the mood.

Tags - @choicesficwriterscreations @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela

[hothian-snow]

Sparagmos: First Draft

To celebrate me reaching 32K with my WIP, here’s a bunch of drabbles which inspired the initial first draft. I might reuse one or two scenes, but not the stuff with Darth Zhorrid. Both Yen and her master has changed a lot through my second revision of the fic too, and so has my writing style. Enjoy!

Darth Kharopos knew damn well that he was intimidating. He must be, lest all the other Darths devour him whole. He was also acutely aware of the effect he had on Yennevyr. It was almost amusing, the sudden change in her posture, her back snapping straight the moment he stepped into the room. Her deference towards him, the soft words and lowered eyes. Was she eager to please, or eager to survive?

From her quick feet and mind, he thought it was the latter. Self-preservation was a necessary trait among the cutthroat Sith, but for his apprentices - his legacy - he wanted more. He thought with her keen eyes and her outsider’s perspective, she’d be able to see the Empire for what it was. To see beyond the rabble, beyond the rat’s race and see what truly mattered. Instead, her eyes were puffy and pink, the next morning they met during saber practice.

Pathetic.

And it wasn’t a one off occasion too. Every time she’d come back from a particularly grueling mission, her mind was elsewhere, her blows lacking the conviction he’d expect from an acolyte worthy of being called his apprentice.

Drawing his attention back to the current practice, he swung a saber at her, the saber deflected mid-swing by a well-placed parry. He stepped aside, and noted how her feet were firmly planted into the ground, readying the body to absorb the weight of a heavy thrust or jab. A defensive stance- again. Must he truly hurt her for her to finally switch to the offense?

The tip of her saber was shaking, her stamina running low.

With the ease of swatting a fly, Darth Kharopos knocked the saber out of her hands. Scowling, he walked away, not pausing to glance back..

*******

Something was different. Clearly, something had changed.

Yet, it was less of a change or a growth and more of a pot bubbling over, the pressure and the heat exploding, the fragile cage of a badly crafted glass teapot cracking, its jagged shards flying into the wall before smashing into sharp little pieces.

Something flared in her eyes and her single red blade came to life, slashing in his direction.

He stepped right and striked left. She jumped back, moving like a spooked jungle-cat, before bouncing back forward with an unexpected speed and thrusted her saber towards his form. He blocked her, catching her blade with the end of his own. Her stance buckled under his strength, and so she slid her saber away but not before suddenly twisting her grips - shifting form, right in the heat of combat, inches away from her enemy - and plunging the blade into where he stood. Darth Kharopos spun his double-bladed saber, creating a quick shield that deflected away Yennevyr’s weapon.

The weapon flew out of her hand.

He felt her clearly. Frustration. Loathing. Wrath.

Their force bond was never this strong, but now he could feel her closer than ever. The way her heart raced, the blood thumping in her ears, her ragged breath and barely held back sobs- it was a dam broken loose, her force presence like a whirlpool throwing the cold serenity of his mind into chaos. Decades of careful restraint and calculating control kept him from drowning in the waves of her emotions.

Yennevyr, with her lithe form and dancer physique, sent a butterfly kick towards his head. Darth Kharopos reeled back. He could’ve blocked her again, that he was more than capable of- but his senses were screaming, alarm bells ringing.

With that distraction - that uncharacteristic distraction, that daring, was so different from the cautious acrobat who used to dance in and out of his range - she summoned her saber back, the hilt smacking into her palm with a loud slap. Fluid like water, she leaped and swung the saber like a guillotine axe above his head. Eyes wide, Darth Kharopos raised his saber up to form a cover, digging his feet into the sand below as the impact hit him. Yennevyr was not relenting.

Her eyes were scarlet. Those amber orbs now glowed red, the color looking like freshly spilt blood against her snow-pale skin. It reminded him of the first time he saw a total lunar eclipse: the moon bled red, as if someone had stabbed its white soil and the wound began gushing glistening ruby.

He let her hit him.

*******

Despair was an emotion Darth Kharopos never experienced, not truly and certainly not personally. Whether that was an indication of mental strength or privilege, he didn’t know.

Lord Atala’s death hit them all hard; the empty space where his mother once stood still felt like a void. Darth Kratais second marriage with Darth Labrys could never fill that gnawing, missing hole, but the woman’s hands were tender and her gaze was warm and when she whispered words of comfort to him, it felt like he had a mother again. Her presence had gentled his father’s severe disposition, and when she brought about his half-sister - Tatyan - into the world, the younger Sith Pureblood felt like a tiny bird fluttering in his palms. She truly was worth protecting.

When his father passed, it felt like a bad dream had come again.

Except this time, mother was grieving and Tatyan was bawling and they all cried together.

“Never show weakness in front of outsiders”, Darth Labrys said. “But here, we’re family.”

Because of family, he’d never known despair.

He was used to inflicting it upon others, though.

Hearing prisoners beg for death, attempting to gouge their eyes out as if the act could wipe away the vision of seeing their loved ones writhing as lightning tore through them, was something he’d grown accustomed to. He saw it coming like a holofilm in slow-motion: the moment where a war veteran’s mind was about to break, their will and determination ready to be shattered into dust at just a single jab. He always made sure their descent into madness was quick- no need to prolong the suffering. Genuine torture was only reserved for the worst of his enemies. It was satisfying, forcing some arrogant Republic general to their knees and making them scream, or exposing some tough Jedi for the weakling they were, like ripping open a bandage to reveal the ugly pus beneath.

How then, had he become so numb to the agony of others, that he missed seeing the same signs in his apprentice?

She was in despair, so upset she wished she’d died.

The circular burns on her arms looked like the ones he was used to inflicting upon Republic foes. It was an easy interrogation technique: stamping a recently deactivated lightsaber onto bare skin, the still-hot metal like a sizzling brand. And when he gazed into her eyes (oh sweet Yennevyr, when was the last time he truly looked at her?), they were dead. Empty glass orbs that had given up on life, if only her heart would just stop beating and give up on her too.

“Do I disappoint you, my lord?”

There was no mockery, no snippy retort in her voice, only pain.

*******

“I’ve always wondered how the law would work out in the long run,” Darth Labrys said, her voice lilting through the holocall. She was referring to the law to bolster Imperial ranks with worthy slaves and aliens, the law which also applied to the Sith. “You can’t expect a slave or a foreigner with no background, no exposure to Sith culture or history to integrate smoothly into Sith society without intervention, much less demand top performances from them.”

Not to mention the consequence of overwhelming power suddenly awakening within someone never taught to wield it, Darth Kharopos thought. The dark side was intoxicating, and one could lose themselves to everything from bloodlust to misery.

“I’m not advising you to go easy on her… but do be understanding, Tyrkos.”

His mother warned that even with the best medicine or therapy available, it would take time, and heavens knew that the Sith journey was already difficult enough, requiring one to fall apart and be reborn from the ashes, to kill who you were for what you could become.

Trust between Sith, especially master and apprentices, was rare. Now, he doubted she’d ever place her faith in him beyond hoping to one day take his place.

*******

Is this how I die? Darth Kharopos thought.

Every breath felt like hot knives stabbing his lungs. The rebreather was dying on him, for he could taste soot in his mouth. Collapsed against the cool floor of his hideout, back leaning against a bloodied wall, his apprentice loomed over him. How embarrassing, for his apprentice to see him so helpless.

“What’s the meaning of this?” she cried out. “Master!”

He thought he’d take that secret to the grave, to ensure that the fallout was minimal. Sith Pureblood, heir to the Rosokor family, involved in a light-side conspiracy. Should he be exposed, the Dark Council would have his mother’s and sister’s heads.

He pleaded for her to understand.

And if she didn’t, he wouldn’t blame her.

Her left hand clutched his holocommunicator where the damning evidence of his treachery laid, and in her right hand was the scarlet lightsaber, poised for execution. In the months under his tutelage, she’d grown into a stunningly beautiful Sith assassin indeed.

He closed his eyes.

“Tell me how to help.”

In shock, his eyes snapped open.

Her eyebrows were scrunched up but whether in anxiety or concern, he could not tell. There was a flush in her cheeks, and wildness in her eyes. Against his every expectation, Yennevyr chose mercy. She chose a chance at the Light. She chose him.

Master, did you not choose me, on Korriban? You saw something in me. I see something in you, too.

*******

Yennevyr hated mopping up blood. She had watched her late father’s maids do it all the time, his underlings scrubbing a crime scene clean. She later played the role of the domestic servant, doing the same back when she was enslaved under the Hutts, whether it be with spilled drinks or bloodstains from a brawl. She wasn’t afraid of blood- the coppery stench just smelled revolting.

Her master bled liters, the liquid forming sticky pools beneath his broken body. Sealing the wound wasn’t too difficult once she found the medkit, although her clumsy handiwork would definitely leave a scar. What was even more concerning was her master’s breathing, the fact that it sounded agonizingly labored and worryingly irregular.

With effort, they managed to haul their way to the hideout’s medical wing before he slipped into unconsciousness.

When his armor was stripped away and it was only his form in plain robes on the simple bed, her master looked more exhausted than she’d ever seen him. Heavy fatigue was written all over his sleeping face. It reminded her of those times she woke up especially early to see the Kaasian sunrise, the soft orange peaking through grey, stormy clouds. Some days, she deduced how master had been running some secret errands the night before, and she’d spot him limping home, his feet dragging, with an uncharacteristic slouch burdening his usually proud posture. Logically, she knew her master was no more or less a person than her, but to glimpse him tired and worn out had shocked her.

She spent the night by his side, the implications of her actions becoming clearer with each passing moment.

To reform the Sith society from inside out, she thought. A lofty dream. When did I become such a cynic?

With curious eyes, she glanced at her master’s resting form, the sound of his still ragged breathing filling the room. She wouldn’t even need a lightsaber; all she had to do was wrap her hands around his neck, and squeeze. She wondered if suffocation felt like sleep.

Oh, will I ever see you this vulnerable again?

Instead, she gingerly placed a palm on top of his limp hand, entangling her fingers with his. His hand was warm.

*******

After the suspicious death of Darth Jadus, Darth Zhorrid - in her sick ways - sought to consolidate her position as a Dark Lord of the Sith.

As if the Council would stand her, Yen scoffed. After they’ve sucked her dry of whatever knowledge Jadus may have passed down to his daughter, she’s dead.

It was no secret that her master disagreed with many of the actions taken by Darth Jadus, but he’d always respected the chain of command, bowing whenever the Dark Councillor requested his presence, amicable before his superiors. This time, however, Darth Zhorrid asked for her master and would not expect anything less than absolute submission.

“Wait outside, Yennevyr. Do not interfere no matter what happens.”

Many may claim force cloaking to be an act of defense, like the Jedi Shadows who’d rather sneak past their foes than needlessly spill blood. Perhaps she truly was like that, in the past. Eager to run, to dart in and out unseen. Conflict-avoidant.

But a cloak was also a tool, like a viper’s green scales that blended into the grass, obscuring fangs and venom. To take it a step further: force cloaking was manipulation. It was to force upon someone a false visage, to bend the mind of onlookers to the point of them rejecting the evidence of their own eyes, denying the existence of a sword pointed at their head. On Korriban, Yen had figured out how to twist her force cloak, inverting it so that her opponents’ visions were plunged into darkness and the world became invisible to them.

It only took hearing her master scream for the first time for her cloak to become a dress.

The scent of ozone reeked through the semi-closed office door. By god, no matter how many times in the past she’d angrily fumed - fantasizing of sweet it would be to give her master a taste of his own medicine - actually hearing her master who had just barely recovered from his previous ordeal now screaming under the powers of some bratty Darth who probably did not even deserve that title...

Yen’s hands curled into a fist, and she was surprised by the anxious lump that formed in her throat. She took in a sharp inhale and when she breathed out, the Force coiled around her like serpentine tendrils, slick and cool. Shadows rested around her shoulder blades like a fashionista’s scarf.

Or for her enemies, a noose.

When her master stumbled out of Darth Zhorrid’s office, a hand clutching at his side, she took the opportunity to peer into the slit of the half-opened office door and caught the Dark Councillor’s sadistic gaze. Yen gave a smile.

*******

Yen had always been good at force cloaking. But this time, instead of projecting the lie of invisibility, she’d chosen an illusion- a glamour, a mirage. To project something false into the world required unwavering will and mastery over that image.

Her mask was fueled by hatred.

Never had she thought she’d one day hate anyone more that she hated the Hutts or herself, until she met Darth Zhorrid. That pathetic mix of insecurity and sadism was infuriating. She had read up on Darth Jadus’ treatment of his daughter. It took everything for her not to barge into that office and wring that sick woman by the neck and ask her if she thought she was the only one who had ever faced abuse. Everyone faced pain at some point in their life. Suffering was the story of all beings, especially so if you were Sith. Yet, when she hated herself, Yen only hurt herself. Unlike Zhorrid, she’d never tortured others as a way to lessen her own pain, to hide her weakness.

And for that, Yen wished Zhorrid was dead.

But not before providing use for her and her master, of course.

Wearing the Force - the fabric of the universe - as if it was a garment, was an act of complete domination. With a smile, she had sparked a flame of interest within Zhorrid. With a light touch of her fingers, she’d quicken or calm the Dark Lord’s pulse, the woman’s heartbeat hers to command at her pleasure. In a blink of an eye, Zhorrid would forgive her master for any misdeeds he’d supposedly done, and most importantly, Zhorrid would leave him alone.

Why pay attention to some grumpy old Sith when the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen was standing there in front of her eyes?

A drugged cupcake ready to be eaten.

Darth Kharopos felt his stomach sinking when he received the holocall requesting that Yennevyr go meet Darth Zhorrid in her chambers. His muscles tightened, as if readying for battle. He wasn’t scared of that snooty brat; anything she threw his way he could take. But Yen, his student, his ward, his protege, his apprentice-

She was smiling.

The Force swirled around her, draped all over her form like a dress blowing in the wind. It was as if she wore a robe of woven flesh, of slithering serpents and tendrils that wrap and cling and coil. There was a gleam in Yen’s eyes, her russet eyes mirthful, radiating confidence. The last time he remembered seeing his apprentice so self-assured was when he was bleeding on the cool tiled floors, her red lightsaber hanging over his head like a bloody guillotine.

“My lord, I am every bit your apprentice. Trust that you’ve taught me well.”

When Darth Kharopos was later summoned to Darth Zhorrid’s office, Yennevyr sat on Zhorrid’s lap like an overpriced poodle. What Zhorrid did not see was the undulating threads latching onto her, their ends sinking into Zhorrid’s skin like a snake’s fangs, or parasites whose teeth pierced her bloodstream, draining her dry.

“Ah, you’re here, Darth Kharopos,” Zhorrid said with a grin. “Very good, you look very nice indeed, perfect for the job.”

Darth Kharopos only nodded, his eyes glued to Zhorrid’s pale hand which stroked Yen’s hair as if she was some exotic pet.

“I need you to look into two places: Belsavis, and the Arcanum.”

Belsavis was a tightly guarded secret he was privy to knowing, but his heart skipped a beat when he heard the name ‘Arcanum’. The Emperor’s property. Jedis have died to get a glimpse of the space station, and there were words of a rogue Dread Master recently robbing the place. Was it even under Intelligence’s jurisdiction?

A squeal snapped him from his thoughts.

“So you do know about the Arcanum!”

Her voice went from a slimy purr to an abrupt shriek. He felt a hard shove and invisible cold fists pinning him to the wall. His legs hung in the air, and he glared at that wretched woman.

“My lord,” Yennevyr murmured, her doe-like eyes widening at Darth Zhorrid. “My master’s a Darth of Imperial Intelligence. Is it not his role to know all that is going on?”

The pressure released and soon he was free. Zhorrid made a noise of agreement, muttering ‘Yes, yes… you’re right, of course.”

Zhorrid began ranting, a semi-coherent monologue punctuated with giggles and sudden screeches on the unfairness of her fate and the need to prove her worth to the Dark Council. Before her anger boiled over, a force tendril planted soft kisses on Zhorrid’s lips, quieting the woman’s anxiety in one swift move.

When the Dark Councillor appeared distracted, Darth Kharopos broke eye contact and glanced at his apprentice. He suppressed a shudder, seeing the predatory glint in Yennevyr’s eyes. Everyday, they grew more scarlet.

You will drink my words, or I will pour them down your throat.

*******

Belsavis he took care of alone, but as per Darth Zhorrid’s orders, he allowed Yennevyr to accompany him on the mission to the Arcanum. It was perfect: with every eye glued to the young rising-star commander, a Sith not-yet-a-lord with the bewitching presence of a black hole, nobody noticed him slipping away, leaking whatever information he could find on the Emperor to Republic SIS. His heart thundered the whole way, but every time he looked at Yennevyr - black hair tied up in a bun, a saber and light armor ready for combat - he felt like he could breathe easy again.

The mission was a success. They tracked the thief, Lord Tagriss, down to Ilum. His dualsaber stabbed a hole in the Sith Lord’s chest, and he felt his apprentice’s pride flared through their bond the moment Lord Tagriss’ dead husk fell into the snow.

When they returned home, she was ready to be a Lord.

“From this day onwards, you are known as Lord Soteira,” he declared, his apprentice kneeling before him. “It means savior.”

His apprentice stood up. When she looked at him, something swirled in his chest.

You honed my blade and sharpened my edges until they are lethal. You scrubbed away the rust, and revealed the blood-soaked truth. Master, don’t feel guilty thinking you turned me into something I already wasn’t. I’ll try to reach for the Light as you want me to, my lord, but don’t pity me if I fail.

[purple-scarf-mistress]

Dark Truths

A Criminal Minds FanFic. 

Chapter 2

Summary: Jamie has been missing for a year, subjected to horrible torture. Her friends/team/family aka the BAU team scramble to find her. Once she is found it will be a challenge to help her get back to her normal life.  Master List (Multi Chapter)  Pairing:  ReidxJamie (OC) Warnings: This story is explicit and deals with s*xual assault and psychological torture.  I will add notes for where to skip and pick back up to for those who want to read this but avoid the warning content. 

June 3

Jamie clenched her teeth to avoid screaming. She was already paying for making noise when she was not asked to. It was one of the rules she was told to follow, even though her captors made it nearly impossible to follow a single one. She couldn't hear what the men around her were saying, she was becoming dizzy from pain as they beat her and called her names. She felt her ankle snap, biting down hard on her lip to keep from screaming out at the excruciating pain. The world around her began to spin before it all went black.

July 1st :

Hotch had everyone gather so they could review the new evidence they had collected. They couldn't be certain if it had anything to do with their long lost friend but they were working with it.

"The phone number that called Reid that night was made from an Irish pub about 5 miles away from here." Penelope said as she pulled up pictures of the pub, "I did some digging and looked into the visitors that frequent the pub and found that a good 90% of them have ties to the Irish mafia, or mob, or whatever you want to call the Irish bad guys. I am not sure what that has to do with Jamie unless they just randomly picked her for …" Garcia trailed off mentally kicking herself because they didn't know what they were doing to her, or what they had done with her.

Rossi cleared his throat taking over the conversation before the team could lose themselves in what-if scenarios. "The Irish Mafia, like many other organized crime groups, has a long history in grudges, robbery, assault, drugs, prostitution, illegal pornography, human trafficking, and murder. The Irish mafia and the Italian Mafia do not particularly get along and I might be able to call some people I know to see if they have any idea as to what's going on with their rival."

"I don't see why they would target Jamie…we haven't come across these people ever, as far back as I can see Jamie hasn't either in her personal life, what's the connection here? " asked JJ who was getting frustrated.

Hotch pulled out a file handing it over to them. He knew this held sensitive information that he should have guessed was connected with his baby girls' disappearance. "This was my very first murder case as a detective, in it has every detail on how I met Jamie McConnell." Looking around the room Hotch saw a lot of different emotions staring back at him.

"Jamie McConnell?" Reid asked dumbfounded looking through the file first. He pulled out photos of a man and woman, both dead, both with obvious signs of torture; behind the rest of the crime photographs, which he passed around the table, was a document.

He started reading out loud "Deckland and Mary McConnell were found murdered in their Los Angeles home on August 12th 1997. The way the bodies were found match other bodies similar to those that were killed by members of the Irish Mob. Upon looking through the house detective Aaron Hotchner found a young child. The child was determined to be Jamie McConnell, age 5, daughter of the deceased. It was estimated that by the time detectives had arrived on scene they victims had been deceased for three days. It was later confirmed that the child had stayed in the closet during the duration of the murder and the days after. The child will be placed in a foster home with a new surname for protection."

The room was silent as the agents mulled over the new information on their friend. Every person remembering how Jamie never talked about her parents and didn't really talk all that much about her foster families either. In fact, when the topic of the family was brought up Jamie simply skirted the topic or talked about the Hotchners.

"So, we have a lead with some actual evidence." Stated Morgan "Now let's find our girl, kick some ass and bring her home."

It had been a long day. Jamie felt numb and exhausted; she craved the cool, damp corner of her dark cell where she some sometimes was allowed to sleep. Instead, her captors carted Jamie to different "parties" where she would entertain them however her boss ordered her. She noticed what they dressed her in today was red, white, and blue and assumed it was some patriotic holiday today, probably the fourth of July but she didn't ask. She had given up asking questions or talking without permission… hell making any sort of noise without permission. She could still hardly walk from her last bought of punishment where they broke her ankle. Jamie was so tired, her body craved both sleep and the cocktail of drugs they had shot her up with so many times. She fought her body hard to stay awake as they drove to their next location, but she kept nodding off.

"Someone call the boss. She isn't going to make it the full day out... Let's give her a few hours rest, give her the shot, and clean her up." He chuckled "We won't want a crashing, dirty girl for our party tonight." She heard the man say.

She knew this man well. Knew everything he liked and everything he disliked. She knew how he enjoyed punishing her in all sorts of ways. She even knew that for this kindness he was giving to her, a slave, she would have to pay. The price for this would be high but she needed it. She would pay whatever he asked of her later so long as she could have one hour of quiet sleep, where no one was touching her.

"Hey Hotch, we have a problem" Jamie started shaking hearing that name. "The chick is crashing, I don't think another injection is going to keep her up right now and it could kill her if we give her it now. Quinn thinks we should let her catch some sleep so she is ready to entertain them later."

Jamie's heart started to race. She had grown to fear the man on the other end of the phone. The one who was responsible for all her pain, she couldn't argue it anymore, couldn't fight to not believe it, her dad was doing this to her. She pulled her knees up to her chest trying to calm down till she hears the man in the front seat start talking again.

"Yes sir." He hung up "were taking her back to the factory for some rest. Hotch says that we can let her sleep for a little while, clean her up, and have our own fun later. She earned enough money for him this morning."

When the car parked at the factory Jamie got out and slowly walked inside with Quinn. He led her to her cell, stripped her out of her "work clothes" and put her back into her usual old tattered shirt and panties. Once she was dressed for bed he pushed her hard into the ground, watching her weak body crash into the cement.

"Sleep. You have two hours, then you’re up and with us." He watched Jamie crawl into the corner before bedding down and gabbing her hair, yanking her head back to him, he kissed her cheek "Happy Independence Day" Quinn laughed as we walked out of the room, locking her in the dark.

It had been 3 days since they learned about his dear friend's true history. Since then it all became clear. They had quickly narrowed down where they believed Jamie was being held with the aid of Rossi's Italian contacts. The team took the jet to New York City and split up in groups of two at three possible locations where they might find their friend. Spencer sat at the window watching the old abandoned factory. A dark tinted SUV pulled up across the street at the factory he was watching pulling Reid from his thoughts.

"Morgan!" he called to his friend to come to see. He watched as the driver and passenger got out of the car, followed by the people in the back seat. Morgan and Reid watched them intently, making sure to snap pictures of the men. The two found it hard to believe what they were seeing; the fourth person was a girl wearing some skimpy Fourth of July attire. The girl looked weak as she walked getting pulled along by the man they would eventually know as Quinn, there wasn't a doubt in either of the men's minds. They found her.

"Jamie…" Spencer whispered so quietly to himself before grabbing his phone calling Garcia while Morgan took more pictures "Garcia! Call everyone else! We have eyes on Jamie! Get them on the line now!"

Penelope was so excited that her friend was really alive, that they were going to get her, that even as quickly as she connected everyone it didn't seem fast enough.

"Got them! I got them! Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, and JJ you are connected to Reid and Morgan and me!"

"Guys! We found her! She is here! They just walked her inside the factory!" Reid said, his voice climbing higher as he was anxious.

Hotch spoke quickly, "Everyone gets there as soon as you can. Reid, Morgan you are not to enter until we get there and create a plan." He hung up before anyone else could argue. Grabbing his gun and his bulletproof vest he quickly made his way to the car with Rossi in tow.

"Ready to get your baby girl back?" asked Rossi trying to get Hotch to talk.

"More than ready. I want her home. I want her home tonight!" he took off when they were both in the car. Diving quickly to the apartments where Reid and Morgan had been placed.

Prentiss drove quickly as well, only slowing as they neared the location so that they would not attack attention. Taking a deep breath she looked at JJ "ready?"

JJ only nodded in response. She was worried about what state they would find her friend. She knew that getting her back was only the first half of the battle, the second half would be dealing with the psychological and physical damage that the youngest member of the team had sustained during her year in captivity.

JJ and Prentiss walked up the stairs and joined the rest of the team. They heard Garcia on the phone going over the blueprints of the old factory.

"When we enter, the likelihood that we will arrest everyone if anyone at all will be very small. There are two many exits. The goal here is to get Jamie out safely. We will find these people again later if we don't get them now and get Jamie the justice she deserves." Said Hotch.

Rossi looked out the window at the factory, "It would be better for us to go in when it's dark, so long as they don't take her anywhere. Someone should be watching for that at all times."

Morgan nodded taking up a post at the window while he listened to the rest of the group plan how they would enter and sweep the building. When the planning was done all they could do was wait. Hotch sat sating at the pictures that Morgan had taken of his baby. Seeing her dressed the way she was made Hotch's stomach churn. It was not something Jamie, his baby, would ever have chosen to wear on her own.

The other three agents went about filling their time in the best way they could, trying to sleep though it was hard to do. Spencer, who knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, sat in a chair reading a book he had carried with him since Jamie had been taken. She had bought it for him to read because it was one of her favorites and she desperately wanted someone to share in it with her. Whenever he missed her he read this book, and if he was honest, he missed her every seconded that she had been gone. So pretty much any of his free time was spent with reading this book over and over again so that when he got the chance they could talk about it as much as she wanted.

 Quinn checked the time as he smiled to himself; it was time to wake her. He grabbed a syringe full of methamphetamine and walked to her cell. He laughed to himself, looking at her huddled up on the floor, she truly was pathetic to him and he really enjoyed making her life hell. For no reason at all. Squatting down beside her, he took her arm, found a vein, and shot her up fast.

Jamie's eyes shot open, her heart beat faster and her lungs were working overtime. Her eyes hesitantly looked up to look at Quinn then back down as fast as possible. No eye contact. She was never to make eye contact with anyone. Property didn't have the right to do that she reminded her self. Quinn pulled her close to him, kissing her cheek like he always did when he had something horrible planned.

"Tonight I'll let you come and enjoy the fireworks with us. You will be able to see them from the bed in my room" he gave a long pause "But only after we get you cleaned up. You are too filthy to be allowed into a bed." He told her, putting the choke collar around her neck, adding a leash. "I like this one better than the shock collar I used to train you with." Pulling on it hard, forcing her to grab her neck in response as the prongs push at her skin and cut off her air.

"Walk" he commanded her.

Jamie didn't hesitate to obey his commands; the reactions had become a natural response. She crawled after him, keeping slightly behind as he led her to the showers. She stayed on her hands and knees watching him from the corner of her eye as he turned the water on. He knelt down by her undressing her quickly before tossing her into the tub keeping a tight hold on the leash.

Jamie winced feeling the cold water against her skin.

"Go on. Wash up" he smirked watching her shiver in the shower.

Jamie slowly began to wash. In her head, she prepared her self for what was to come as she went through the motions numbly. She was happy that he wasn't participating in the shower like he had so many times in the past. He always made them so much worse. Quinn saw she was done and yanked on the collar making Jamie lean towards him as she clung to the collar trying to keep the prongs from cutting into her skin and choking her. It didn't work. Jamie felt her body go weak as she blacked out.

/// Skip to next note to avoid s*xual assault content///

She woke up feeling sore. Jamie was careful to keep her eyes closed as she listened to what was around her. She could hear the three men, her stomach churned as she began to get more feeling back into her body. Jamie recognized the familiar sounds, smell, and feel of the man who wasn't talking with the others. She knew it was Quinn and that meant he would soon recognize that she had woken up. As if he had read her thoughts, she felt her head being lifted by a hard yank on her hair.

"Decided to join in on the fun, huh?" Quinn laughed as he kissed her cheek. "You have been out for a while and we didn't want to slow down the party to wait for you." He stated as he continued his assault on her body.

Jamie stared at a familiar comer of the wall, the one she always focused on in this room, trying to close her self off from the feeling of him. She made sure not to cry or make a noise as he continued. He was being more gentle than usual and she didn't want that to change. She didn't want to screw it up as they told her she did with everything. A big bang followed by some sizzles made her flinch, gasping in fear of what the noise was coming from.

You stupid girl, you may have just pissed Quinn off! Her mind berated her.

"She is still scared of loud noises I see" laughed a man who was watching them over in a chair. "I wonder what else we can conditioner her to fear, we have ingrained so many into her subconscious."

Quinn grunted his approval at her reaction, before he violently flipped her over onto her hands and knees, yanking her hair back hard again pulling her against him, "watch the fireworks, it's the closest to freedom you will ever be."

Jamie's eyes watered as she opened them and watched the light show trying to not react to the sound each time one went off. She swallowed bile as she felt him release inside her as the firework show finished.

Jamie got through the next couple of hours without disobeying too many rules. Each time she did they took the time to give her the punishment she deserved. Quinn and the boys were done with her for the night. So they dressed her back into her clothes, that in all honesty no more than tattered rags, and took her back to the cell. After they left her, Jamie cried silently to her self until she succumbed to some much-needed sleep.

 ///Pick Back up here///

11:15 pm July 4th :

The BAU team was dressed in their bulletproof vests as they approached the factory. It was time to get their girl back.

"Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss, when we enter go left. Reid, JJ, and I will go right. Detain anyone you can, kill if necessary, but no matter what, we get Jamie." Hotch said before he nodded to Morgan to enter.

The team split, both clearing the hall and rooms as the checked for their safety as well as hoping Jamie would be behind one of the doors. Reid made his way to the staircase; slowly he walked quickly to the second floor. Upon seeing that Morgan was already checking that hall he worked his way up another level and proceeded in.

Quinn looked up at the security footage, "Shit FBI is inside! Get everything you can I'm going to get the girl!"

"No! they're almost to her! We got to let her go! We can get her back for the boss later!" said one of the other men as he grabbed as much video and documents of what they had subjected Jamie through into a bag.

The other man began wiping the hard drives of the computers after he copied all the information for them, "Let's GO!"

Quinn struggled to go after Jamie, his pet, he didn't want her taken but once he saw one of the agents pass by their door he had no choice but to run with the other two men as they worked their way down the fire escape.

Prentiss called out, "They are running down the fire escape. Three men. They don't have Jamie!"

Quinn Fired a shot at Prentiss who retuned fire missing Quinn but hitting one of the other men. She kept firing but Quinn and the other man were able to get into their car and drive off.

Jamie tensed hearing the gunshots but she didn't dare move. Her eyes darted to the door when she heard the knob turning. Reid slowly walked in seeing Jamie sitting on the floor, his heart pounded in his chest as he carefully walked up to her and knelt down.

"Jamie..." he saw the fear in her eyes as he slowly moved towards her, his heartbreaking as she scooted further back against the wall trying to get as far away from as she could.

~Can also be read on AO3 and Fanfic by anonymouslymine ~

[coyotesongwriting]

Free Falling - Chapter 1

Avengers - Clint Barton/Reader

Chapter 1 - The Beginning Of The End

Clint made it perfectly clear that he never wanted kids. What he didn’t know was that he chose the day you were planning on telling him you were pregnant to make that opinion clear.

Author’s Note: I desperately need a beta reader, and I’m sleep deprived so if there are mistakes... oops and let me know haha

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Tag List (if you want to be added or removed let me know, no hard feelings 🙂): @rorynne @proudhufflepuff77 @rhymesmenagerie

Clint landed on the training mat with a loud smack, and you laughed as you brushed your long hair out of your face. During the session, your hair tie had snapped and instead of getting a new one you’d decided to just keep going. No point training if you could only fight if your hair was perfectly up. Clint was muttering under his breath to himself as you reached down to help him up.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” you smirked, eyes dancing as you looked down at him

“That was dirty and you know it!” he grumbled, staring up at you with a slight frown on his face.

“Babe, it’s not my fault that a little kiss can distract you.” You stared at your hand pointedly, waiting to help him up.

He let out a long-suffering sigh, you had this exact same argument every time the two of you trained together. After a long beat, he reached out to grab your hand. Before you could pull him up though, he gave a quick pull, causing you to lose your balance and land on top of him. You let out a breathy laugh, glancing down at his lips before meeting his now heated gaze. He surged upward, pressing his lips to yours. With a quick move, he rolled and pinned you to the mat.

“I win” he whispered, grinning goofily down at you before recapturing his lips in yours.

Although you were pretty competitive, you can’t say you minded losing to your boyfriend of two years in moments like this. Time seemed to slow as the two of you lay there, in no rush for once. You ran your fingers through his hair slowly as you kissed. These were your favorite moments. Sure, you loved the stolen moments between missions but the slow, sweet kisses like this helped you forget everything else for a few minutes.

“Miss [Y/L/N] and Mr. Barton, please report to the briefing room. Mr. Stark said to please hurry” Friday’s voice rang out through the room, and you two quickly pulled apart, climbing to your feet.

Your eyes lit up mischievously, “Race you!” and you set off as fast as you could before he even registered what you had said.

“Cheater!” echoed down the hall as he raced to catch up to you, a low chuckle following you.

You sped into the training room only a few steps in front of Clint and slid into the chair at the back, his favorite spot before he could stop you. He rolled his eyes playfully as he merely picked you up, taking his spot back. You grabbed the seat next to Bucky, turning to stick your tongue out at Clint, who in turn stuck his tongue out at you.

Tony knocked once on the table, and you turned to look at him. “You guys about done? I’d like to get on with this”

With a sheepish grin, Clint nodded and the briefing began. Unfortunately, it was once again going to be what was quickly becoming the same old deal. A Hydra base in Boston had been experimenting, but this time? They’d gone low enough to be testing and torturing children. You guys were going to go in, kill Hydra, and get the kids off to somewhere safe.

Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Nat were all going into the base, while Clint provided cover outside and would try to draw out as many as he could. You’d be staying behind on the Quinjet as always. Your skills weren’t all that helpful in battle, and you’d only be a distraction to be completely honest.

Growing up, you’d spent a lot of days online where you’d learned to program and code. As the years had passed, you’d quickly made a name for yourself among hackers. You had a reputation for doing what you thought was right, whether or not the law agreed with you was a different matter of course. You weren’t just their resident hacker though, you were a mutant.

On your 16th birthday, your family had taken you out to dinner. Things had been going great, until the drive home. You didn’t remember much from the accident itself, but a drunk driver had t-boned your car and you’d passed out. Your older brother calling out to you had woken you and you’d seen the blood spreading from a deep gash on his chest. You’d been applying pressure to the wound and crying when your powers kicked in for the first time, and his chest wound healed quickly.

Since that day, you’d learned to master your healing powers. As soon as you graduated high school, you’d enrolled in the military where you were trained as a doctor. You hid your powers, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. However, your low mortality rate drew attention and within a few years, Fury had recruited you to the team.

In the beginning, you’d gone with them out into the field but it hadn’t taken long before you asked to remain behind on the Quinjet. You weren’t afraid of the fight, you actually kind of enjoyed it. However, you weren’t exactly helpful. You were a pretty good fighter, but pretty good wasn’t near good enough when things got too hairy. After one close call where you’d almost lost Tony because you’d been too hurt to help him, you’d realized you were better off staying behind.

“Alright guys, let’s go” Steve announced as Tony finished briefing everyone.

~~~~~~

Unfortunately, the mission had gone sideways from the moment the team arrived on the scene. Hydra had apparently known you were coming, and were trying to move the kids from the warehouse as fast as they could. Unfortunately, Hydra had also rigged the warehouse to blow. You guys hadn’t been able to evacuate the building completely before it blew, and there were casualties. A lot of them to be exact. There were a few kids lost in the explosion, and the team was quiet as you headed back to the tower.

Later that night, you’d managed to gather the whole team into the home theater. There was nothing that brought everyone together better than poking fun at the cheesiest romance movies they could find. It had started one night when Tony walked in on you watching a cheesy romance movie, your guilty pleasure. He’d gathered the team and they’d made a drinking game of pointing out the problems in the movies.

It didn’t take long before everyone was starting to relax, the drinks really hitting everyone as they’d decided to go straight for the hard liquor tonight. Thor and Loki arrived from Asgard just in time for the couple in the movie to pull a container of ice cream out of a small cooler they’d brought on their hike and walked in to find everyone laughing as Clint ranted about how stupid that was.

As the movie drew to an end, everyone was feeling pretty good. You were curled up against Clint, his arm around your shoulder. Nat had fallen asleep on Banner, and the two of them looked absolutely adorable. Tony and Thor were taking turns throwing popcorn at each other. They had started by trying to see who could catch more popcorn, but now you were pretty sure they were just trying to hit each other in the eye.

The movie drew to an end with the couple finding out they were pregnant, and Clint let out a huff of laughter. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in that, so you turned to him curiously, your eyebrows pulled together in a silent question.

“Sorry. I just can’t imagine anyone bringing a kid into this world” he shrugged, leaning back against the cushion.

“Does that mean you don’t want kids of your own someday?” Banner asked, having overheard Clint.

“No way. I’m not going to be responsible for bringing a kid into this mess.” Clint’s voice was hard, unwavering.

You bit your lip, looking down at your fingernails. You’d always dreamed of having a family someday, and you thought he had to. “Do you mean that?” you asked, voice quiet as you cautiously met his gaze.

There was no pause before he answered, determined, “I’m not having kids, [Y/N]. Ever.”

Silence fell and the others began to slip out of the room quietly, not wanting to see what happened next. You were looking down, seemingly studying your fingers when he lightly placed a finger under your chin, pulling your face up to look at him.

“What if we did though?” your voice was soft, nervous.

“We can’t. That’s why we have to be careful” he said gently, “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

You didn’t say anything, not willing to trust your voice as you got to your feet following him. When you reached your shared room, you gave him a gentle peck on the cheek before stepping into the bathroom. You waited until you heard his gentle snore before you began to sob. He always took his hearing aids out before he went to sleep so you weren’t worried about him hearing you.

Reaching into your drawer, you pulled out the positive pregnancy test and stared at it. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Not at all. What were you supposed to do now?

Next Chapter ->

Note: I’ve cross posted this to AO3.

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

I knew

*Not my Gif*

Request: Hi I love your writing so can I request a Sirius Black x Hufflepuff! Reader where reader is James’ younger sister and Sirius and Reader like each other but they don’t know but everyone else does with a really protective James pls 🤗

Requested By: @nerdbookish

Request: Hey I read your one shots and they are super amazing and basically I love Sirius Black and yoy write him really well. So, I know he isn’t in the request list but could you please do 10 and 29 for Sirius and reader?

Requested by: @ateliergrey

10. “You’re lying? Why are you lying? What are you not telling me?”

29. “You’re bleeding. On my floor.”

Paring: Sirius Black x Reader, James Potter x Sister!Reader

Post Date: 6-4-19

Word Count: 1876

~Prompt List~

~Master List~

~Open Requests~

Your 7th year had finally come. You couldn’t have been happier at Hogwarts than you were with your twin brother James and his best friends. You were placed in Hufflepuff and they were all in Gryffindor, but they took you in during your 3rd year and since then you’ve all become inseparable. It was a little weird at first for James’ to have his sister hanging out with him and his best friends, but he got over it. Although he never gave up an opportunity to remind you of the fact he was older.

“James! Stop acting like a child!” you yelled as your brother stole a parchment from your pile dangling it around you as you watched him unimpressed. James just started laughing at you.

“Oh, come one Y/N. I’m not a child, I’m older, remember?”

“Yeah, well you won’t be older for much longer if you don’t give me back my bloody parchment.” You mumbled trying to knock him down. Sirius, your knight in shining armor, had watched with an amused face before deciding to come to your rescue.

“Ok Mate, you’ve had your fun, now give the girl her homework back.” Sirius said before James huffed and handed over the paper. Sirius took the paper before turning to you, graciously bowing then giving it to you. You smile at his ridiculous actions as you shake your head. You hadn’t realized the slight blush on your cheeks, but James had. He watched as Sirius’ gaze lingered on you when you turned away, and he most definitely noticed the smile across his face. He didn’t like it, you were his sister and he didn’t like the idea of anyone liking you. You both argued a lot and he would mess with you far to often for your liking, but he didn’t want to see you get hurt and having a boyfriend wasn’t going to make matters better. A few minutes later, Lily had rushed into the library yelling something frantically then pulling you along. James watched as you left before turning to Sirius.

“What’s your plan with my sister, Padfoot?” He said quickly causing Remus and Peter’s attention to shift to them. Sirius just looked at James with confusion across his face.

“What plan? What are talking about?” he asked glancing at Remus and Peter as well. James just scoffed as he leant in closer to the boy, causing him to lean closer in defiance.

“You fancy her, don’t you?” Now Sirius’ eyes were wide as if this was the most prosperous thing ever. His mouth fell open and closed trying to form words but falling short. James shook his head as he stood up, towering over the boy. “Padfoot, I’m not playing here. You hurt her, and I’ll let Moony here go after you next moon, which just happens to be tonight.” He said as Remus groaned, slamming his head down on the table. Sirius was worried, this was James they were talking about and he wouldn’t do that, but it was also you. And James would do anything to protect you. Sirius didn’t like you, you were like a sister to him, right? As James sat back down, not looking away from a very awkward Sirius, Remus and Peter were trying not to laugh.

“Prongs, if it makes matters better, I think your sister fancies him as well.” Remus said, causing Peter to finally break out in laughter as both their eyes shot open and heads spun to face him. He tried to hold back his laughter once again but the smile he had was not helping. “I might have brought up the topic to her the other day.” He started as Peter’s cackles filled the air earning several shushes from the kids around them.

“What do mean she fancies me? She can’t fancy me, we’re friends. Just friends!” Sirius whispered, a little more on the loud side but still a whisper. His eyes darted between James’ shocked ones and Remus’ smug ones, waiting for more information.

“I told her I thought you and her had some… connection that she didn’t have with the rest of us and she practically flipped out the same as you are now. I can’t believe neither of you realized anything, Peter and I have been talking about it for, well I guess years now.” He said, Peter shaking his head in agreement. Sirius sat in silence at this new revelation, James still didn’t like it and he made it quite clear, staring at Sirius until it was almost nightfall. The four boys gathered their things, quickly heading out to the shrieking shack before it was to late. These night were never easy, and tonight was no exception, Remus transformed as well as the other 3 and they began their long night.

The next morning you woke up to the moans of an unknown person. You knew you were the only person in your room as your roommates had all spent the night in the common room, and they said they weren’t planning to come back up the next morning. You sat up in your bed, scanning for the person before you saw a bloodied and moaning Sirius laying on your floor. You didn’t know how to feel when you saw him, your eyes blinking as they adjusted to the sight.

“You’re bleeding. On my floor. Right, okay… OH MY GOD SIRIUS YOU’RE BLEEDING!” you said, your breathing becoming more and more difficult to do as you look at his mauled leg. You didn’t want him to see you yelling right after this, so you tried to calm down. “What the bloody hell happened.?”

“Ughh, just… just help me, Y/N. Please.” He said, moving up against the wall as you looked for something to quickly wrap around his leg. You acted quick, pulling a discarded shirt from the floor. He watched as you tied it, making sure it was tight around his leg.

“Ok, we have to take you to the nurse. She’ll definitely be able to do something more than I can.” You picked him up, swinging his arm over your shoulder as you helped he walk, careful not to let him walk on his bad leg. He watched you, trying to keep his mind off the injury. He wasn’t sure how he ended up there. He remembers getting hurt but nothing after that. He didn’t mind though, he kept thinking back on what his friends said, maybe just maybe he liked you in a more than friend type of way. His thoughts were interrupted when you arrived at the hospital wing, you threw him down on a bed, quickly apologizing when he groaned in pain. The nurse had come over and took a look at his leg, you pulled up a chair beside him and leaned onto the mattress, not touching him but close enough. Sirius’ breathing quickened when you got closer. He didn’t know what changed, yesterday you were just a friend and now all of a sudden you made his heart race? What changed, or did he always feel that way and just never realized it. He looked up at you as you bit your bottom lip, worried about the boy next to you.

“Ok, let’s distract you. uhhh… how did you get into my room? I mean, past the Hufflepuff common room?” you said hoping that he won’t pay attention to what the nurse was doing.

“I uhh, I don’t know. I was just there, I guess.” He grunted. You looked down at him, confused at his statement.

“You don’t know? Ok fine. What happened? How did you get- you know” your hands gestured to his leg as you frowned again. You hoped that the answer he could give you now was better than ‘I don’t know’. When he didn’t answer you, you moved away from the bed, a little jumbled as to why he wasn’t answering.

His eyes harden as he cleared his throat, looking away from your face, “I fell down the stairs, got scrapped up.” His voice showing his discomfort. You frowned again but said nothing, just waiting until the nurse left you alone.

“You’re lying. Why are you lying? What are you not telling me?” you said, standing over the boy. He didn’t look up, fiddling with his fingers as you rolled your eyes, falling back down into the chair with a sigh. “Oh, come on Padfoot! James is my brother! You don’t think I hadn’t realized James is an Animagus, Peter’s an Animagus, you’re an Animagus, and Remus is a- “

“Animagus?” He said quickly hoping that you hadn’t figured everything out.

“No, I was going to say Moony’s a werewolf.” His eyes nearly doubled at your words.

“You knew?”

“Of course, I knew. Your nicknames are a dead giveaway.” He just stared at you, unable to come up with anything. This whole time you knew and didn’t say anything. You even knew about Remus’ lycanthropy, he was just surprised. When he asked you if James told you, you shook your head.

“No… No, it was actually something Peter said a while ago. Something about getting Remus safe for the night. You know, he really isn’t good at keeping secrets, but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Padfoot.” You laughed as he laughed, somehow amongst the hilarity his hand found yours, giving it a little squeeze. Your cheeks started to blush once more as you remembered you talk with Remus. He was right, you liked him. you just didn’t want to admit it at first, but you knew deep down, it was true. He was also right about Sirius, and like you he didn’t realize it but now he did, and he wasn’t going to deny it.

“I like you.” he blurted out, mouth speaking faster than his brain could think. Your breath hitched as you smiled, letting out a gentle giggle Sirius realized he loved it so much. Your fingers graced the back of his hands as you leaned over kiss him. As soon as his lips hit yours the doors busted open, 3 sore boys came flying towards you only to stop at the scene. You pulled away, unsure of what to tell them.

“H-hey James. Uhh- so what’s up?” you asked, trying to divert the attention away from you and Sirius, unaware of the fact that your hands were still connected. Sirius couldn’t help the cheeky grin on his face as he looked up at you. Your eyes glancing worriedly between the boys. Without wasting another second, he pulled you back for another kiss as the boys just stared. James was shocked while Remus and Peter were proud. They always thought you both made a good couple and now they were sure.

“Alright, Alright, stop snogging my sister. You can date but my threat from earlier still stands Padfoot.” James grumbles as he turns to leave, dragging the other boys along. You turned to look at Sirius, unsure of what just happened.

“Threat? What did he say?” you asked as Sirius just chuckled.

“I’ll explain it later, love. Right now, maybe you could help distract me from the pain in my leg.” He said as he pulled you over him, you straddle him as your hands fell onto his chest. You chuckled before leaning down, smiling into a kiss.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED!!

[tsuki-chibi]

Smutember Day 2: Going Further

Chat’s heart quickened with nerves as he watched Ladybug land on the balcony. For lack of a better space, he’d resorted to renting a hotel room under an assumed name. It wasn’t like Paris didn’t have plenty of hotels, and he had lots of money squirreled away in a bank account.

Part of him wished that he had something better to offer, but privacy was paramount and a series of random hotel rooms offered just that. Maybe someday, he thought, they could have more. For now, it was worth it just to see Ladybug push the unlocked balcony door open and step in.

“Hi,” she said with a shy smile, a plain black bag dangling from her fingers.

“Hi,” Chat said softly. “Is this... okay?” He gestured around at the room. It wasn’t much, to be honest.

“It’s perfect,” Ladybug said without even looking around, her gaze focused on him.

He smiled back. “Ready?”

Ladybug nodded. “Yup. Just one thing...” She reached into her bag and pulled out two masks. One was red and one was black, but that was where their differences ended. Both were designed to cover the upper half of a face, with a simple tie to keep them on.

“Back to back?” Chat asked, accepting the black one.

“Sounds good to me,” she replied, stowing her bag in a corner of the room.

He turned around and waited until he felt her shoulders press to his, then whispered, “Claws in.”

“Spots off,” she said simultaneously.

Two lights lit up the room. As Plagg materialized, Adrien reached up and carefully slid his mask on and tie it. He took a moment to make sure that it covered every possible inch of his face. It was a lot more comfortable than he’d been expecting, made of a soft fabric that wouldn’t rub or chafe. Trust Ladybug to take their comfort into account, he thought with another smile, and glanced at Plagg.

“You know where to go,” he said to Plagg, deliberately messing up his arm to make it look more Chat Noir than Adrien Agreste.

“Come on, Sugarcube. Let’s leave the kids to be gross,” Plagg said loudly, wrinkling his nose. Adrien swatted at him; Plagg snickered and dodged, grabbing Tikki and flying quickly into the bathroom. The door shut with a resounding bang.

“Chat?” Ladybug said behind him, and Adrien turned. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her, standing there in a green tank top and black cotton pajama bottoms. She fiddled with the drawstring, her eyes on his chest; he was only wearing boxers.

“You’re still comfortable?” Adrien asked, searching her face. They’d discussed their boundaries and what they were both okay with. They even had a safeword in place. Yet still his heart raced as though this were a scene he’d accidentally stumbled in on, and he felt incredibly nervous.

“I am. I trust you,” Ladybug said, smiling. “What do I do first... Master?”

Adrien made a face. “Ew, no. That just reminds me of Master Fu. Call me Chat, or Sir if you want to.”

She giggled. “Sir,” she repeated, batting her eyelashes.

She was so cute sometimes that it hurt. Adrien had to force himself to sober when he really just wanted to smile foolishly at her. He thought of all those long hours alone in his room, aching with the need to have - well, to have this. What was standing right in front of him. Some of his anxiety drained away and he lifted his head, meeting her eyes.

“Ladybug, strip naked for me.”

Ladybug stilled at the command, her eyes widening slightly. She didn’t move right away, and he knew this was the moment when things either worked or they gave up completely. As the seconds ticked by, some of his confidence faltered and he wondered if he’d pushed too far too fast. He was ready to call the whole thing off when -

Very slowly, Ladybug reached up and grasped the hem of her shirt. She hesitated for another split second before her lips pursed into that stubborn little moue he was so familiar with, and then she abruptly pulled her shirt up and over her head. With no bra, that left her breasts visible. Adrien’s mouth went dry as she tossed her tank top onto the chair. Then she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her sweatpants and pushed them down.

She kicked her sweatpants away and stood before him, fully naked but for the red Kwagatama around her neck, arms hanging loosely at her sides. Her cheeks were pink, but she didn’t try to hide.

“Good,” Adrien breathed. “That’s good. Now, lay down on the bed on your front. Leave your hands at your sides.”

“Yes Sir,” she said, and there was no humor in her voice this time. Something warm pulsed through him as she crossed over to the bed and climbed onto it. Not arousal, though naturally that was there too, but something that made him feel like he was flying.

He watched as she settled herself on the bed, inwardly amazed. They had agreed that they wanted to go further, but that they wouldn’t involve sex during their first session. Yet, Ladybug had stripped naked and gotten on the bed without even asking what he was planning. She trusted him that much. It was a little mind-boggling.

“Tell me when you’re comfortable,” he commanded, swallowing hard.

“I am,” Ladybug responded. She had propped her head up on a pillow and wiggled around until her chest wasn’t smushed. She was one long, pale line of smooth skin. The sight of her ass made Adrien’s mouth water, but he pushed those thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time.

He walked over to the bed and picked up the bottle he’d left on the nightstand. “Close your eyes. Don’t open them until I say so.”

She obediently shut her eyes, her breathing slow and regular. Adrien put one knee on the bed and then lightly swung his other leg over her, straddling her thighs. He uncapped the bottle and poured some of the massage oil into his hands, then set the bottle aside and briskly rubbed his hands together to warm the oil up.

“I’m going to touch you,” he continued. “You’re doing so good...” He was about to call her ‘My Lady’, but hesitated. This was special, just for them. Did nicknames they used outside the room really make sense here?

“Petite Coccinelle,” he settled on finally, because she was - she was his little ladybug right now, and he would do whatever it took to make her happy. She, in turn, would do the same, and that was key.

He set his hands on her shoulders and began to dig his fingertips in, relishing in the way she melted beneath his touch. He could feel the tension in his shoulders uncoiling as he slowly worked his way down her back; this moment, for both of them, was just the beginning.

[dat-town]

Destined to fall | scene v.

Characters: Taehyung & You

Setting: fallen angel au, reincarnation au, historical au

Genre: angst

Warnings: character death, lots of violence since it’s set during WWII

Summary: Your love story is a tragedy written with blood throughout the centuries.

Words: 5.4k

Chapter index

SCENE V. RULE THE UNDERWORLD Kobe, 1945

God is dead, Nietzsche said and at that time, it really looked like he was right.

Explosions, screams and chaos everywhere. The world was like burning lava, a boiling cauldron and humans, the fools were stars waiting to be burnt out. There was no evil and innocent anymore, even good people did bad things in order to survive. Everybody was a victim, merely a puppet in the game of leaders, those who fought for power. Because people never learnt from their mistakes. And Taehyung? The Devil himself? He used to be the puppet master before it all buried him under its weight. He didn’t need to do anything anymore. It was enough to whisper the right (wrong) dreams into the right (fallible) people’s ear and all of it all fell like domino. One after another, attack after attack. It would have been a lie to claim he wasn’t a bit sad about what humankind became but God deserved this betrayal. His own beloved children killing each other, how ironic.

Yes, that’s right: this endless war sacrificing too many human lives made even the Devil sad, it made him lose that last ounce of hope he had in humanity. He didn’t feel guilt, only sorrow, melancholy and nostalgia.

But most of all, he missed you, the sound of your laughter, the touch of your hands and all the wonders you gave to the world. He walked around in the streets between scattered ruins, watching the Sun from where it rose the earliest. You would have loved Japan, he thought and wished you were there smiling at him and making him forget about the ruthless war going on out there. On the other hand, he was happy he didn’t found you, not yet, because otherwise that would have meant you had to live during such cruel times… again. You had seen so much blood and survived too many decades of pain, you deserved better, a more peaceful world.

One you couldn't get with him by your side.

“Long time no see, boss,” came the snarky comment and Taehyung grit his teeth as he stepped on a piece of broken brick splattered all over the ground in the darkening port city of Kobe.

“Go away,” he spit out. He didn't need company, he had no patience for one.

But certain people... demons didn't know when to shut up and how to behave like decent beings around their superior. This creature didn't seem to fear death and rotting in Hell in the most painful way.

“Oh are you still moping over that human girl?” he laughed disgust clear in his voice and spit on the ground that humans built and destroyed, the race he and other demons despised so much. Taehyung found it pathetic, that so many of his once so-called brothers didn't fall for a cause, for a reason but because of their own pride and because they thought they were better than humans, more worthy of attention than those rats. They didn't know anything but pain and destruction when it came to Earth beings.

The man in nothing but black, arms tattooed, smirk on his face walked right in front of him, moving in an accelerated motion, the aftermath of a fresh kill, blood still bright red on his hands. Taehyung just glared at him, unfazed and cold.

“How can you be our ruler? You are pathetic,” the demon made another attempt at riling him up even more, testing his boundaries, pushing where it hurt.

“Don’t you dare to speak to me like that, Azazel,” Taehyung hissed at him through his teeth. His hands curled into a fist, ready to fight, something he didn't have to do physically for so long because he had others to do it for him and because war and murder didn’t end in blood and death every single time. Killing a soul, living in a lie or in desperation was sometimes even worse.

But now his knuckles wanted to harshly kiss skin, tearing it apart, making it bleed. He wanted to hurt and he wanted to watch the change of insulting eyes turning into a regretful one when the demon realised what kind of mess he made.

But Azazel went along with it, he greeted his rage, he bathed in the anger of his gaze. That was what he wanted all along.

“Or what?” he asked, taking a reckless step forward, too close for the Devil’s liking. Something gold flashed through the demon’s eyes and his mouth curled into a wolfish smirk. “Will you cry on my shoulder?”

Taehyung scoffed wondering if he should make his hellhounds eat this dirt of a demon or simply rip him into pieces and put the parts on display to remind everybody what rebellion meant.

“Leave or I will make you,” he warned Azazel, for one last time because he was being nice for once, throwing chances like this.

“Oh I’m shaking so hard,” the man bit out sarcastically and his followers, that bunch of lower demons hiding in his shadow laughed together with him. Azazel spit at the first fallen in despise. “You are getting old. It’s time for somebody else to rule.”

“You mean yourself?” Taehyung laughed as he eyed him up and down. Stupid bloodthirsty demon, he had no idea what it meant to rule. “And over what will you rule once you kill everybody?”

Fear, pain, greed, they all moved humanity ahead towards bigger goals, so maybe Devil wasn’t good but he wasn’t all that bad either. It’s a paradox, isn’t it? Because if he wasn’t evil then what right did he have to own the Underworld? He built this kingdom and it will die with him if he had to. He would bring everybody down with himself.

Azazel opened his stupid mouth to answer but before he could utter a word, the ground split under them, shaking as the horrid noise filled the air, making the buildings shake and the glass shatter. Taehyung knew it was a bomb before he heard the collision far enough to leave him safe and sound yet close enough to leave destruction in his surroundings, like that trembling building towering over him.

“Rot in Hell,” the demon spit out and he laughed.

“We are already there,” the elder smirked. From his point of view even the prettiest place was like Hell without you and he would have watched the world burn happily if it wasn't for you.

Azazel snapped at that and lunged at him with his full weight throwing the first fallen under the falling bricks and an office building threatening to collapse. Taehyung saw him run away and cursed under his breath as anger bubbled inside of him. How dared he touch him with his filthy hands? How dared he challenge him and then leave like a coward? How-

He heard it first. He heard that sound resembling earthquakes but didn’t pay much attention to it, too focused on that damn demon escaping. Then came the pain, which wasn’t intense at first, the ripping feeling only came in waves. An enormous weight put him down and it was dumb because he had survived worse without a scratch but now? It felt like he carried the whole world on his shoulders. In the back of his mind he recognized the redness on his palm as his own blood but he still tried to get up…

However, his attempts came to be in vain. Then blissful darkness masked the world and everything became numb.

 He dreamt of you.

It was too good to be true, he thought, blinking and seeing you through his lashes because his eyelids were too heavy to keep his eyes open for much longer. Yet, he stared quietly, wondering when and why he got the privilege to dream and especially to dream of you. Or was this the afterlife? Did he really die? Was it heaven after all he did?

Because there was no way that you were there smiling at him so sweetly. Or maybe he was hallucinating because he just woke up with a headache, blank mind and bruises all over. Yeah, it must have been it.

“What happened?” he croaked out disorientated and tried his best to sit up in what looked like a hospital bed. The mattress was a bit uncomfortable under his weight and the sheets smelled like antiseptic. Its terribly distinct human smell disgusted him.

As he looked around in a room, he assumed was a war hospital with all the wounded patients and nurses running around. It was all too plain, a sight to forget but then his gaze fixated on you and his breath hitched. You were real in your entire solid and shy demeanour. Not only an illusion, not a mirage. You found him.

You wore a light blue uniform and held your hair up in a messy bun. Despite your mouth curving into a soft smile, you pushed him back onto his pillow with quite a strength when he leaned forward abruptly, risking his wounds to open up and bleed through the bandage.

“Rest,” you told him firmly, not leaving any other options for him to take and he watched you in awe. You just touched. He felt your fingers brushing his shoulder and then your palm against his forehead to check if he had fever. Yet, you acted like a stranger.

You poured water into the glass on his night table, took out a few pills and motioned for him to swallow. He did as you asked because even if he was capable of healing without medicines, he was your patient now… Again after so many years.

Your almond eyes reminded him of Silla. Just like your light touches, fingers careful on his wounds, they all brought back memories of you treating his torn wings. The first of firsts was always a bittersweet memory for him but you didn’t seem bitter at all, mostly just worried as your shining gaze met his.

“There was bombing on the streets,” you finally provided an answer as an explanation but as it all came back to him bits by bits, he knew it wasn’t merely the bombing. It was Azazel who pushed him under the collapsing building. That fucker! He will make sure the demon will pay for this and wish he would have never been born.

“You were buried under sixteen flights of bricks. Nobody knows how you survived,” you added with a smile of somebody who knew secrets. Because you did, you had so many of them. You knew exactly what he was and how he could survive. Yet, you didn't say anything. You just brushed the reckless locks of your hair behind your ears and intertwined your fingers in your lap.

You reminded Taehyung of your first life together so much, he had trouble breathing. It was you, the kind, the selfless, the one to heal him all over again with beautiful eyes in a country of war. He feared so much that the past would repeat itself but you had rather feared for him than yourself.

“Take care of yourself. What would I do if you weren’t there in my next life?” you whispered knuckles brushing against his cheek and looked at him like you loved him. Because you did, oh how much you did! Because in this life you remembered him before he did and you prayed, begged even so you could be together again, just once you asked.

Without me… you would be happy, he thought but he was way too selfish to voice that out.

“I love you,” he said instead, searching for your gaze, the forgiving and your sweet smile was salvation itself.

“I love you too,” you bent down to kiss him and soothe his worries away. He wished it was that easy forgetting about the weight of Earth on his shoulders. Simply being with you was worth it anyway.

 A poet once said that demons run when a good man goes to war. Apparently, he was wrong and knew nothing because demons, they were the front line of any war and Taehyung led them. Not personally of course, but he adapted to the idea of Evil. He once hated the hatred, the torture, the brutality and the weakness it represented, however he was wiser now. He knew that the world needed balance, it needed both good and bad… it needed him.

Darkness existed before him and will exist after he will be far gone. The thing he owned but no other fallen had was the knowledge, that he learned how to control and form it like he wanted. Each time Death claimed you he used it as revenge, throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child. He didn’t care who he hurt as long as he made sure God was watching. It was an eye for eye deal and the Devil always kept his word.

He wasn't proud of what he did but he couldn't find it in himself to regret anything. All his actions, they led him to you. One way or another, he always came back to you. Even bruised and hurt, he held your hand.

“How many?” you asked sitting next to him, watching the city in flames through the broken window. In a world of chaos, there was no place like safe haven.

The hospital was run down the previous week. After that Taehyung encouraged you to leave the country with him. To get on the last ships going south, heading to a hopefully peaceful place but you refused to leave your patients behind. You were too kind, too good for this world. Since then you had been in hiding, crashing in abandoned buildings in the constant fear of bombs falling down.

So your sudden question caught Taehyung off guard. It was so out of blue yet he knew you had your reasons.

“Millions,” he croaked out without shame or hesitation.

The number just increased and increased since he had a big influence in the First World War. What did you wait for? What did you want him to say? To lie? He was the Devil after all. He was feared for a reason.

“Does it scare you?” he asked, curious.

You had never complained about his being before, never asked him to change. Was it because you blamed yourself for making him this way or did you really accept him unconditionally?

“No,” you shook your head as an answer, black halo of hair falling into your face, shadowing the glint in your almond eyes. “You would never hurt me.”

That much was undeniably true. He could never lay a harmful finger on you. Not even if you asked. Still, it didn't make him less of a monster.

“But I have killed a lot. I am no better than the soldiers you despise murdering thousands here,” he protested running a hand through his now faded ash blonde hair. Your gaze followed the motion and you reached out to take his bony fingers and intertwine them with yours.

“What's the point of wars? Power? These soldiers don't even have a choice, they are forced to join the army and to kill innocent people, to destroy. People say it's the Devil's doing but no, it's all us, fallible, selfish humans doing monstrous things, playing gods,” you muttered, head resting on Taehyung's shoulder, enjoying the warmth while you could. “You, on the other hand, you are doing this out of love. A twisted kind, yes, but you are just as stuck in a treadwheel as I am. You lost your wings because of me, because you saved me! How is that fair? You were made to rule over the realm of chaos God throw away and didn't want to deal with. You made home in it and learned how to survive. I'm not saying you had no choice, that you are innocent and I would not absolve you of your sins but you had your reasons.”

Your whispers were elixirs for his hurting wounds and filled his aching heart with even more love. For such a pretty young face, you sounded so wise and you were, you have seen so much loss and so many battles in all your life. You both were old souls in young bodies.

You lifted your head turning towards him, nose bumping into his on the way and from this close, you could see the adorable moles and light freckles on his flawless, handsome face.

“To them, you might be a monster but I know you have a gentle soul and that's what I fall in love with each time,” you exhaled your confession right into his mouth, his breath fanning over your chapped lips and you could have been swallowed up by his black hole-like orbs.

“Have you ever regretted it?” he asked, scared and desperate. However, he had no reason to be afraid. If it was up to you, he would have never lost you.

“No,” you replied right away. If it's for him, you would have never regretted anything. “And you?”

His head signalled no fervently, pressing his forehead to yours, squeezing your hand gently.

“You're the gravity and I fell for you. I wouldn't change a thing,” he whispered and leaned forward to prove his feelings with a chaste press of lips, chasing after your sweet kiss in such dark and bitter times.

 The Eastern bloc started to fall apart one by one, defeated by the enemy with more developed technology. Rumours among civils whispered about nuclear weapons and total annihilation but Japan, the country that had never lost a war before refused to give up. What a way to go! Sentenced to death by their own pride.

“We should have fled when you told me to. Sorry,” you apologized for your stubbornness after days spent in an underground bunker waiting for it to be over. No war lasts forever, that much you both knew.

“It’s okay. We are together,” Taehyung smiled at you, rubbing your dirty cheeks with his thumb and pressed a quick kiss onto your temple oh so lovingly. “I’ll go out for food.”

“I’ll go with you,” you got up from the crappy mattress immediately. You didn’t want to stay behind without him, not knowing what happens to him. Of course, you knew it was almost impossible to kill him but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Y/N...” he said softly, rejection clear in his voice as he looked at you with those melancholic, sad eyes but you didn’t let him finish.

“No. We’ve talked about this, remember? You can’t control my decisions, they are my own to make,” you reminded him and sighed exasperatedly when you looked around in the tiny bunker in which the two of you made home recently. No sunlight, no wind in your hair, barely enough water to drink. You remembered fear, poverty and torture from your earlier lives but this had been the worst. Not knowing whether it was day or night, how much time passed. If it wasn’t for Taehyung you might have given up already. “I feel like going crazy if I stay inside for any longer.”

“Okay,” he grunted and you could tell how much willpower it took him to accept your will.

“If anything happens to me, it won’t be your fault,” you promised and sealed it with a kiss. Taehyung practically melted into you, cupping your face and reciprocating the kiss deeply. In these moments, when you closed your eyes and with his arms around you, you could almost forget about the world. You pressed even closer, hands running up on his smooth back under the thick layers of clothing. You only pulled back when Taehyung let out a hiss and stepped back.

“What?” you furrowed your brows but the fallen avoided your eyes.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go,” he grabbed your hand lightly leading you to the super safe steel door of your little shelter. You didn’t question further since you thought you would still have time for that when you arrive back after the food hunt. Without a word, you nuzzled close to him and with masks covering half your face, you rose to the surface.

Kobe was in ruins, it was even more destroyed than in your memory. Barely any building left untouched, the streets were full of litter and dead, the road was painted with dried blood and you felt nausea bubbling up from your upset stomach despite not eating properly in the last days. Or was it weeks, who knows?

It took quite a walk to find an old convenience store that wasn’t emptied to stretch and only the sounds of faint rattle of firearms stopped you from stuff your mouth with all the expired food. You could wait until you got home, you reasoned and put everything in your bag.

“You done?” Taehyung helped you up. You nodded almost as eager to go back to your place as you were to get out. But just as you were about to cross the threshold, a cold voice sent chills down your spine.

“Hey Lucifer, I told you we would meet again.”

“And I told you I would kill you when that happens,” Taehyung retorted in an alarmed voice, hiding you behind his back as he was looking left and right, desperately searching for the owner of the voice.

“Charming,” Azazel chuckled as if it was all a big joke for him. Then his voice dropped low and full of intent. “So is she her? The girl who made Satan weak and fall onto his knees?”

“Leave her alone!” your angel snapped and you curled your hands into his coat, with your heart in your throat.

But nothing could prevent you from falling over and screaming in agony as a dirty set of sharp teeth sank into the flesh of your shin and dragged you backwards, to the legs of a man dressed in all black, eyes red and evil.

“Y/N!” Taehyung reached towards you as soon as he heard the sounds just to face a hellhound holding you as its captive. Blood was flooding from your wound as tears rolled down your face.

“Ah-ah… remember Pudding? The guard of your precious Underworld’s gate?” Azazel patted the dog-like creature’s head. “While you were too busy protecting your girl, me and ma boys took over. Now he listens to me well. Good dog. If I wanted, he would tear your precious princess into bloody pieces.”

“Let her go,” Taehyung ordered when the demon dared to touch you, brush your hair out of the way and point a knife right to your throat.

“Maybe I will... If you beg for it,” the man clicked his tongue impatiently and yanked at your hair until the metal blade drew your blood. You hissed as the warm liquid wept down your neck. ”Come on, do it! Or you think I’m just joking, that these are empty threats? I will cut her pretty throat if you...”

“Okay, wait. I will do it. Just please… please don’t hurt her,” and the fallen, the proud one held up his hands in defeat. Your tears were no longer out of pain but from sadness.

With a satisfied smile, Azazel waved off his wicked pet.

“Pudding, go home,” he ordered and the hellhound disappeared into thin air, releasing your hurting leg, burning deep in the wound. Yet, the demon’s grip on you didn’t get loose, the knife was still there threatening to cut you open. He sounded even more arrogant than ever. “Go on. Kneel and hand me the keys of Hell.”

Your eyes widened as you watched the horror in Taehyung’s eyes at the mention of the keys. Your lips were trembling as you tried to shake your head as careful as you could to tell him not to do it. You knew if Taehyung gave up on the last thing the demon wanted from him after his dignity, he would kill both of you anyway. But how could he not try to save you? He loved you more than his own kingdom.

“On three, we will exchange,” he opened up his palms where a golden key ring appeared out of nowhere. Azazel nodded as he hungrily eyed the item. “One, two...”

“Three!” the demons cut him to it as he shoved you forward and stole the keys from Taehyung’s hand who was busy catching you. The deadweight was the first he realized and he only saw the deep cut wound later on your throat, artery damaged. His expression resembled pure shock and eternal grief when he looked up.

Azazel just laughed, swinging the dagger in his right like it was a plaything. Crimson drops of your blood rained down as the keys clinked in his other hand.

“Oops my hand must have slipped,” he mocked.

“No,” Taehyung roared rocking your lifeless body back and forth, staring at your mouth that hung open, the blood still smearing from the deadly wound and your eyes staring up to the sky, empty and helpless. “NOOO!”

You said it wouldn’t have been his fault but it was. He wasn’t fast enough, this time he was right there but still couldn’t save you. He was the one who angered Azazel, not you. Yet the filthy demon killed you to get back at him. You are his weakest spot and everybody who wants to hurt him, hurts you.

It was Silla all over again.

“You are a dead man, Azazel,” Taehyung growled in an inhuman voice, standing up slowly, crying black tears.

“You can’t kill me. You just proved how weak you are,” the demon scoffed playing with the keys as if he ruled over this place but the first fallen knew better.

“You haven’t seen me at my worst,” he said and with the power he had in himself, the anger, the grief, the madness, he curled his hands into fists imagining Azazel’s insides breaking and rotting in his grip. He was panting hard as he tried his best to keep his focus on the body’s most vulnerable points, the part that could hurt the most.

The demon standing in front of him choked on air, dropped down onto his knees as blood flooded out of his mouth, nostrils, ears and even his eyes. The sight of horror in his eyes satisfied the sadistic side of Taehyung as he grabbed him by the neck and forced the dagger out of his hand.

“I warned you,” he gritted through his teeth as his goodbye and dabbed the knife into Azazel’s weak body dozens of time until he lost counting, until his anger died down.

Numbly, he walked back to crouch down next to you hugging you close to him and swaying there while his body shook with loud cries.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. None of it.

 He buried you in a field of roses, a place you would have loved and prayed for your soul, for you to come back to him in your next life, so he can say sorry and make you happier. When he broke into a rundown hotel to wash down the blood, yours and the demon’s too, he didn’t care about getting caught anymore. With Hell’s keys close to his still heart, he was ready to kill anybody who bothered him. However, when he heard footsteps, they didn’t belong to humans.

“You killed him,” Seokjin stated astonished like he didn’t believe his eyes, staring at the blood on Taehyung’s hands.

“Yeah and I would do it again,” the fallen shrugged cleaning his hands under the flowing water of the tap and looked up at his sudden visitor through the dirty motel mirror. “It’s not a big deal. I have killed our kind and did worse before.”

But it was, that’s why Seokjin came, because the horror on his face implied that things were changing. And Taehyung had a hunch about it for a while, he felt the change in his own body.

“But it’s different now. You… when you kill them or make them kill each other, they go to the Purgatory if not straight to Hell. However Azazel… you deleted him from history. You killed his immortal soul. That’s something only Father can do.”

“Well. In that case, I did him a favour by getting rid of that worm.”

“You really don’t take it seriously enough,” the angel sighed.

“What do you want me to say? That I shouldn’t have done that?” Taehyung snorted bitterly because it had been long since he cared about should have and must have options.

“You know how fallen ones become demons? You know what happens to their souls? Every time they kill an innocent human, they lose a part of it until there’s nothing left. Azazel was long gone when I killed him,” he reasoned and Jin hummed acknowledging the possibility of this fact.

“And what about your soul then?”

“I… I think it’s connected to hers,” he mumbled a bit uncertain even though every evidence proved it. Despite all the monstrous things he did he still had humanity in him, the ability to feel sorry and love. People often blamed Devil for all tragedies but they tend to forget he wasn’t the driving force of evilness. He wasn't a fallen hero of light, he threw that name away from him. He was a soldier, a general in each war dark and light fought, he was always on the opposite side of God’s army of angels and believers. Seokjin should have considered him an enemy, a threat, he should have killed him on spot whenever they met because he was a menace that didn’t deserve all these chances he got. But he didn’t, he had no order to do so which meant that all his efforts, all the murders were for nothing because the Almighty still had plans for him.

“So what happens to you when you kill?” the archangel asked him but didn’t even question the bond between his and your soul. Maybe you were just ill-fated, star crossed lovers always finding each other at the wrong time in the wrong place. Maybe you never stood a chance because your right time hadn’t come yet.

Taehyung didn’t answer, not in words at least, just turned around pulling the shirt over his head to reveal his scarred back.

“You are growing wings again,” Seokjin whispered in shock and awe but not in disgust, gaping at the fallen’s back and the black bones sticking out of the flawless skin. They were as ugly as his crimes, dark like the sins he committed and painful like he deserved to suffer according to the books of justice.

“Yeah and they hurt like hell, as if thorns were spouting out of my back, tearing the skin,” Taehyung grimaced flapping the wings out of experiment and one of the black feathers fell to the ground as a proof of the dying texture. “I know why I get this but Y/N... She can’t die but cannot live either. It’s ruthless. If it was me I wouldn’t care but…”

“That’s why it’s called a punishment,” Seokjin nods understanding, almost sympathetic which is funny, isn’t it? Feeling sorry for the Devil is a rare occurrence.

“But why does he have to punish her too? Why not just me?”

If God really was fair, then how he would have explained this? Most of your lives you were a pure soul and an obedient daughter. Your only sin was loving him unconditionally.

Seokjin shook his head with a bitter smile, blonde mop of hair falling onto his forehead.

“Remember? She took you away. One of his favourites. One of those he trusted the most,” he said and Taehyung scoffed loudly.

“Is he jealous?”

Seokjin’s answer came as a lecture of an elder, simple and forgiving for the foolishness of youth.

“No. He just doesn’t like to be wrong.”

But oh how wrong he was if he thought Taehyung would let him get away with playing him like this. He was his best pupil and now it was time for the student to outdo the master. But for now, it was time, to wipe this place off Earth, he thought looking out of the window staring at the remains of Kobe, this hell of town.

And just as cherry blossoms bloomed, incendiary bombs painted the dark sky bright orange like falling stars and millions of fireflies were born from the flames around them as the city burned.

Next chapter

[musicals-x-fandoms-blog]

what came down from the tree ch. 5

Notes: Hi Everybody!! So, its the last chapter of this fanfic (awwww:(). I’m so so so thankful for the love and the feedback!! Ok so last round of shoutouts: @sapphicshuri @amityravenclawelf @politelyintheknow @d-benjo-bucoco @groundhoglesbian special thanks to you guys for supporting my work!! Please please keep sharing my work (there’s an Ari and Dante reference somewhere here for you guys too!)! I’m sure this fic won’t be the last! Without further ado, this is the final chapter.

The fifth, and final time, was in his death.

During the final years of his life, Daniel Beauxhomme gradually lost his memory. Dementia, the doctors called it, to which there was no cure. They told him to walk around more, to stay mobile, active. By then, Andrea had passed on a few years before and his son had a family of his own.

He was alone again.

As the days bled into years, Daniel began to pray. He prayed to all the Gods he knew, that Ti Moune would be the last thing he’ll ever forget. He slowly forgot everything: his son, his wife, his family. They slipped away from him unnoticed, like a thief in the night. In those years, he often dreamt of racing around an island in a car, as silver and as bright as the moon above him. His eyes were set on a destination, but every time he got closer to this place, he would wake up.

In those years, Daniel Beauxhomme often walked to the tree. He would spend long hours gazing at its branches, hoping to find Ti Moune walking through the thick leaves.

“Why is Monsieur looking at the tree?” asked a maid once.

“Some say he sees his old mistress, a peasant girl, up in the branches,” replied another.

Once, this young man visited him. He looked familiar— his heart was yearning for his mind to remember who this boy was. This young man looked a lot like Daniel himself, but he just couldn’t remember who this boy was. Timothée looked into the eye of his father; they were losing their brightness, their vibrance.

“Who are you?” The old man asked the boy.

Timothée looked into his father’s eyes, desperate, “Papa, it’s me, Timothée. Do you remember?”

Daniel looked into the boy’s eyes; they were just as gray as his own.

“Your eyes look like mine,” he said curiously, “why?”

It was as if his own father had died in front of him. He began to cry, to shriek, to call to his father’s memory. If only he had come sooner instead of later, if only he didn’t argue with him over petty issues, if only he had spent more time with him. If only.

From the corner of the room, Roseline rushed to her husband, frightened. Timothée was restless— he was shaking his father’s arm, in an attempt to get him to at least recognise him. On the other hand, Daniel felt violated. Who was this stranger? Why was he shaking him?

“Security!” He called.

Immediately, guards leapt into the room, eyes on the hunt for prey, but all they found was the master’s son and his wife.

Not long after the boy’s visit, Daniel dreamt of this island again. It was the same scene. The sea was black and brooding; the night sky above him was speckled with silver stars.  He was driving again, his hands firm on the rubber wheel. He could hear the soft whirring of the engine— a fine piece of machine. There was no noise in that night, only a sense of calm and idyll that washed over him. His knuckles were pale and smooth; his skin was tight. He was his younger self. However, he didn’t feel like he was himself. He felt like an observer of his own body, an audience watching the spectacle that was his own life unfold before him. It was an odd sensation: being in your own body, but not controlling it.

Usually, he would wake up by this point, but he arrived at a house this time. Not a house— more of a hut, really, where a palm tree stood mightily by its entrance. Its windows glowed a soft yellow. Even from behind the wheel, a soft noise, a chatter perhaps, from the inside of the hut warmed him. Watching himself, Daniel stopped the car and got out. Outside, he could only see the outline of distant hills and crops. He could only hear the faint calling of birds accompanied with the loud crashing of the waves of the sea. It was quiet.

Daniel stopped for a moment, standing outside of his silver car. He wanted to savour this, all of this— wherever he was. Suddenly, he felt his consciousness wash over him, like a shock without the startle. He had finally gained control of himself. He was fully lucid. It felt real.

“Daniel,” a voice called out from behind.

Turning around, he saw her. Ti Moune. She was no longer wearing that red gown from the branches— she wore that bright, thin dress that had made its mark in his memory. Her hair was not pinned in some elaborate bun; it was down, a single flower its only decoration. This was Ti Moune as he saw her.

“Ti Moune,” Daniel whispered, awestruck.

Coming forward,  she asked, “Is it really you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He replied.

She ran towards him and he caught her, holding her tightly in his arms. He had dreamt of this moment for so long, too painfully long that he wept embracing her and she to him. They didn’t break away.

“All this time, I’ve dreamt of this place. I would always see your car in the distance,” she babbled, “but then your car would disappear and I would be back in the tree and then—“

“Shh,” he said, brushing her curls, “it’s alright, Ti Moune. I am here now.”

She laughed to herself, gripping his thin shirt. “I need to explain something—“

“No, Ti Moune,” Daniel interrupted, “it is I who needs to explain.”

“Daniel, you don’t,” she replied, “you are here. To me, that is all that matters.”

Then he kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. And she kissed him back.

So there they were, on that island where land and water were one, on that island where the poorest of peasants and the wealthiest of grande hommes loved forever, on that island where they raced away in a silver car for the rest of time.

END.

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 

[midnightiscoming-kasabian]

New/Old interview with Ian (November 2016) _______________

Mike Dolbear DRUMS | Interview with Ian Matthews - Kasabian

“Rock compares to jazz like killing someone with a baseball bat vs. putting a pillow over their mouth”. Ian Matthews has both ways down like few others.

Coming from a jazz background he swapped the thin sticks for some proper wood and has been the power house behind British Indie Rock band Kasabian for the last 13 years.

2015 has also seen Ian seeking out new adventures joining a team surrounding master drum builder Keith Keough launching the brand new British Drum Company.

I caught up with Ian after his performance at the London Drum Show to chat about his musical upbringing, Kasabian and his new venture into the drum building business.

[x]

You started at the age of four after your babysitter taught you your first beats?

Yes, my babysitter (now passed away) was one of my dads mates and a long standing friend of the family. He would come to babysit me and bring me drum sticks when I was about two. I still remember ‘Mama - Dada - Mama - Dada’. His dad had an amazing red sparkle drum kit which I always loved. I think that’s where the seeds were sown.

My dad being a pianist wanted me to play the piano too but he realised that I wasn’t interested. So when I was four he tried to find a teacher who would teach somebody so young. There was a guy who lived just around the corner in Bristol called Mike Holmwood who was playing as a session player at the time for a band called The Brotherhood of Men. He had me come round the house, stick on some Cowboys and Indians or whatever was on the telly on a Saturday morning, gave me some milk and biscuits; take me up to the drum room for ten minutes to teach me some stuff; then back down for some more Cowboys and Indians; then back up for another ten minutes and so on... He did that for several years and taught me how to play brushes, jazz independence, how to read and all that. He got me to a point where when I was seven years old my dad turned around to me as he was packing his organ in the back of the car and went: ''Son, you’re coming with me''. The drummer for his social club gig was ill so I filled in. I went to do the gig with him and got £5. From that point I was hooked.

This guy Mike used to tell me about playing with confidence and feel. It was something I didn’t quite understand then but he sowed those seeds in my head. I’m making music for the sake of how I’m doing it as opposed to what I’m doing and I’ve got on as a drummer from the age of 19/20 as a drummer by going into from that direction.

Was it a conscious decision for you to make drumming your career or did it just happen?

I went through school still doing all these gigs with my dad and then joined a Bristol drum corps called The Troopers when I was ten. I don’t think we were a very good drum corp; we rehearsed twice a week and we also came last in the championships, but it taught me how to play with others and we used to race each other on rudiments trying to become the lead drummer.

I also did some school orchestras and in the band of the Avon and Somerset fire brigade learning to play with a wind band, playing military type stuff and lots of reading. I also did wedding gigs and jazz gigs, so I was always involved with music through school.

Even my drum teacher at the time, Eddy Clayton, used to dep me out for his gigs so I was playing in the pubs of Bristol when I was 13. Props to all these middle aged jazzers letting a 13 year old boy sit in and count them in.

I left school and had some crappy jobs which all weren’t really well paid and I just realised I could make nearly enough doing a couple of function gigs on the weekend. So I decided I would like to just sit at home and have to do nothing else but just play the drums and see if I can live of that. So I did.

You once made this beautiful comparison between rock and jazz being like “killing someone with a baseball bat vs. putting a pillow over their mouth”.

[laughs] Yes, this was kind of a half joke between me and a friend of mine who’s a jazz violinist. I’ve done jazz gigs with him and it’s so different than going on stage for a hundred thousand people driving a drum kit through the stage. That’s why we came up with that. To me, brewing on a ride cymbal at mid- to up- tempo, or even a slow brush thing, the inner me is trying to bring as much intensity to that musical moment of a whisper as I would at a yell.

You’re left-handed but you set up your drum kit right-handed?

I had this question a lot during my time as a teacher. You find people have left/right issues with their bodies. For me, I’m left-handed writing but my natural instinct is to kick a ball with my right foot, so my right foot was always gonna be my kick drum foot. Also, I was just put on a traditional drum set by my first teacher. I can’t even remember if he made me play like this or if I just naturally did it because I as a kid I watched all these drummers on our little black and white TV making their drums shake, guys with massive bangs of hair and huge sideburns. Maybe that’s where it came from. I’m not against playing lefty but it’s just the way it rolled. The right foot thing though was important for me.

Let’s talk about Kasabian.

I had a teacher who indicated to me that if I wanna get on the scene I needed to make sure to make friends and connect to as many engineers as possible. That’s where you meet the musicians who are doing stuff and where you get a call of people who need a drummer. These are the guys who are active, not the getting stoned in a bedsit dreaming about being a rock star.

I had red light fever and every time the recording button got pressed I would jam up. I tried getting as much training as possible, whether it was paid or not.

Mat, a friend of a friend, ran a studio called Big Bonk and I used to go there and record for free on his projects and in return he would throw me some work. Sometimes there was 50 or 100 quid in it. Kasabian from Leicester were coming down. They got some development money from their manager to spend on a drummer and Mat recommended me.

The day before the recording I fell down the stairs, sprained my right ankle badly and was inches from picking up the phone to cancel because I couldn’t walk. I still did it. I limped down to his basement, the boys looked at me and I went: ''I’m your drummer for the day''. That’s when I first met them. I did the session in pain you wouldn’t believe, they were blown away it seems and I did a couple of sessions with them after that.

They got signed the year after in 2002 but I couldn’t really get involved because I was doing enough stuff already. I was working with a guy signed to Virgin, another artist signed to Real World and was going to Paris a lot doing some African crossover stuff replacing Manu Katche in a band.

During that time the guys were sharing a farm up in Leicester working on their record. We lost contact a little through 2003 and later that year they started getting on the road playing the Dog & Duck here, the Dog & Duck there, driving up and down the motorways in a Mini Metro and an Austin Maestro.

In 2004 the manager called me in a panic saying they needed a drummer next week and they wanted me. It was Easter holidays so I went in and we tore it up for two weeks. After that the manager said: “Do you want to come and work with us? I can hire you and we have enough money to replace your teaching and feed your family. Come with us for 18 months.” I went for it and it was amazing. In fact they made me a band member in 2005 - so it’s kind of a gradient in membership. I wasn’t just parachuted into a famous band. I proved myself, we proved ourselves and together we made it all possible. I met them 15 years ago and it’s all been developing ever since.

There’s a bit of a time off for the band at the moment?

Yes, we last seriously toured in 2014 when we headlined Glastonbury. That was a big gig. That whole year was really dense.

Then 2015 we just did about 15 or 20 festivals mostly in eastern Europe, we also went to Brazil and did the Lollapalooza tour of Latin America taking in Chile, Peru, Colombia and Argentina. Then come the end of August we decided we’re on our sixth album, we need to give us some time off. We also wanted to give the public some time off and not just bring out another album and go back out on tour.

This coincided with Keith inviting me to become partner in the British Drum Company.

2016 was quiet apart from May where Leicester, Kasabians favourite team, won the Premiership in the most dramatic way ever and we played their victory parade in front of 150,000 people in Victoria Park. In my down time I did some jazz gigs, some funk gigs, a little bit of session work here and there, the drum company and my family. I’m not pursuing a project because by the time it gets going Kasabian will be back out.

Let’s talk about the British Drum Company for a bit.

So Keith is a guy I met a few years ago at the Scottish Drum Fare and we got on like a house on fire straight away, it’s like Bro-Love. We stayed in contact every since and every time I was in Manchester we met up for a drink, some food or he came to see a gig - we just became mates and we would trade on each other on our perspectives on drum maker vs. drum player. I always knew I wanted to work with but he was with Premier and I was with DW so we just didn’t have the situation.

It came to that he left Premier and Al Murray convinced him to keep on building drums, so the two of them started collecting partners. Stu Warmington does our marching devision, Alan Kitching is our product designer and there is me, which is flippin’ amazing. Keith literally just turned around to me at V-Fest, the last gig of our tour and went: “You’re up for this then mate?”. And I just went: Wow! Fuck yeah!

It must be something like a little boys dream to be involved in building your own kits. Is there any limit to what you can do or can you just try anything?

Mate, it’s incredible! Keith is the genius and what the rest of us do around Keith is to steer his genius in the right way. We’re like a band. We’re flying very quickly, we’ve only just gone a year and already everybody is going: oh yeah, British Drum Company. People are intrigued still  but we all came together because we’re all senior in what we do somehow. We’re not ‘having a go’ or just investing in a business and try go get people in to run it who are not that emotionally into it. We’re five partners who came together to create something magic that we’re proud of and I think it’s working.

I think it has taking people by a bit of a shock that a little Manchester workshop can create a drum kit which sounds f**king unreal.

I had that moment when I left DW, who I was very loyal to, and turned up to London Drum Show last year [the official launch of British Drum Company]. I got up in the lift, got to the booth, drums all over the floor, the boys all red-eyed because they’d been up all night to finish the last drum kit and you could still smell the solvent. Keith gave me a drum key, put me on this 24” kick drum kit and told me to tune it up. I took a deep breath: Right, this is the moment, let’s see what I’ve done. I hit the drum and I tell you now: the adrenaline that went through me when I realised I’d done the right thing was incredible. We set the whole thing up, I played it and my first words when I turned to Keith were: ''I’ll take this kit on a stadium tour tomorrow. I’ll never forget that moment''.

I’m catching you just after your masterclass in the Mike Dolbear room here at the London Drum Show. How does this compare to being on stage with a band?

Well, I’m coming here to a full room of people and I have Ash Soan, Karl Brazil, Mark Richardson, Cherisse Osei and Tina from Zildjian out there who all came to see me. Bloody hell! I’m nervous of those situations but it’s not the playing, it’s the talking. Am I actually gonna manage to entertain these people and give them something?

When it comes to playing music I’ve been doing it long enough. The intense acceleration of Kasabians career happened in the mid noughties - especially when Fire came out. Suddenly we started headlining all these festivals. I remember being at T in the Park and looking at this enormous stage, there was Channel 4, T4 cameras everywhere, celebrities hanging about and 60,000 people out the front and I shit myself! I had my moment of ‘Wow’ and had to talk myself down of it. I told myself: I’m only here because the boys want me here and the way I play. I can’t change the way I play that’s just the way it is. We are only here because the people out there want us there. We can’t change the way we play, that’s the way we do it. So if we only go on stage and play the way we play and not be scared of that, then happy days surely! We spent hours together in dressing rooms and tour buses talking about these issues, Tom just always went: ''You have nothing to prove''.

So I think those other drummers can think what they like, we’re all mates. I could have a bad one today and wouldn’t give a sh*t. I’m only human.

I know that I’ve made 100,000 people jump at the same time in a field so there is something about my humble basic beats that works. That’s me being arrogant of course but if we get into the psychology of it... and maybe there are some readers out there who might have to read that. It’s like sports psychology.

Finally, what’s next?

The company is keeping me busy pretty good. We’re doing most of it via social media so my phone is just going ‘bing’ all the bloody time.

In the meantime, the weather is changing for Kasabian, we’re gonna be brewing up. The new record is in completion I think and for all you Kasabian fan readers, there’s gonna be something special coming your way.

That’s the good thing though: if I do go out back on tour with Kasabian this year, I’ll still be helping to manage the company.

I feel very lucky at the moment.

Thanks a lot for your time Ian!

Interview -Tobias Miorin

Photos - Francesco DesMaele

www.mikedolbear.co.uk

[general-bear]

Talk about A L L O F T H E M

Okay buckle in kiddos it is now time for me to Overshare. Someone else asked for all evens so here are all the odds. Keeps it shorter anyway. Sorry this took me so long!1: Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie. // The first time I watched Master and Commander, I was too young to actually understand what was happening. I remember getting really upset during some of the sadder scenes, and getting really grossed out by some of the gorey bits. The first time I watched it and actually understood it, I thought it was amazing, and I stood up during the last scene with my mouth open in amazement. There's not anything super awesome about the last scene but for some reason I just love it so much. 3: Talk about the person you've had the most intense romantic feelings for. // Um.... okay. So... we had known each other since first grade, but we didn't really become friends until fourth or fifth grade. I didn't have many friends at the time, so it was kind of a big deal that someone actually wanted to be my friend. We were best friends for a long time, and then we dated for two years in high school. He was--is-- incredibly intelligent, and is really good at science and math. And he's funny, too. He has a sense of humor that swings between morbid, sly, and just plain goofy. He's a complete dork, too, and while it was hard to get him excited about something, when he started talking about something that was genuinely interesting to him, he just lit up. He's also a brilliant writer, though he's not fully convinced of that. I still worry about him, though I know he can take care of himself. Anyway, so far, he's been the only one I've really had romantic feelings for. Currently, I don't really have intense romantic feeling for anyone.5: Talk about the best birthday you've had. // I've had a lot of really good birthdays, but my favorite ones were when I went to Water World with some of my friends. I have a lot of good memories attached to that water park. 7: Talk about your biggest insecurity. // I'm insecure about a lot of things. My weight, my voice, my height, my intelligence, my leadership skills, my mental illness. The list goes on. And on. And on. 9: Talk about little things on your body that you like the most. // I love the little half curls in my hair, and the way that it has at least three different kinds of brown in it. And I like the way my eyes turn the color of honey in the sun. 11: Talk about the best dream you've ever had. // Okay so it's been ten years and I still remember it vividly. I was a dragon, slinking over the rooftops in the dead of night. I saw a group of humans and hid in the shadows to overhear their plot to storm my clan's cave and kill all the dragons. They were whispering about a secret weapon. I raced back home and told our elders everything. But I was too late. The humans were upon us. Cue epic battle with shapeshifting from human to dragon, walls of green fire, and a powder that made the humans invincible to the heat of the dragon fire. It was so cool and I loved it. 13: Talk about the first time you had sex/how you imagine your first time. // I'm not really planning on the whole sex thing. So unless something drastically changes, my first time will be never.15: Talk about the time you were most content in life. // When I was training to be a counselor, I would get a hour break every day, and I would go down to my cabin and sit on the steps and read. It was warm, with a cool breeze that made the leaves of the trees sound like ocean waves. The only other sound was birds chirping and the turning of pages in my book. Whenever I was there, I felt totally at peace. 17: Talk about someone you want to be friends with. // I really want to be friends with my new roommate. Her name is Talia and she seems pretty cool, and I just really hope we become good friends.19: Talk about something that happened in middle school. // When I was in seventh grade, my sister and I had to take the public bus to the library a few blocks away to wait for our mom to be done with work. One day, I had the bright idea to race the bus. I left my sister at the stop and started running. I ran two miles, and got to the stop minutes before the bus. I was so proud, and got ready to brag to my sister about it. The doors opened, an old man got off, and the bus drove away. My sister was gone. I freaked out and called my mom, who called my grandma, and the search began. We finally found her wandering around by the library. Turns out she had drifted away from the stop and the bus missed her. Her phone dead, she decided just to walk to the library. I yelled at her for being so stupid but I was super glad she was okay. 21: Talk about a time you had to turn someone down. // When I was a kid, there was this little girl who lived down the street who always wanted to hang out. And every time I told her no at the door, she magically slipped inside and wouldn't leave. She was like a little, adorable demon.23: Talk about a time someone turned you down. // There was this dance thing at my summer camp, and for some reason most of the kids were asking out people to that activity. There was a kind of cute boy who I had talked to a lot, so after a lot of convincing from my cabin mates, I shyly approached him and asked him to the dance. He said no, and I hid under a bridge crying until dinner. 25: Talk about an ex-best friend. // Bella and I were really close friends in middle school, and we were always hanging out together and going on adventures. We caught crawdads in the river by her house, rode our bikes through the park, made stupid sing-along videos in her living room, went geocaching, and broke cattails by the creek. One time she brought a slug to class and showed it to our teacher and she almost fainted. It was awesome. Another time we were doing some dumb shit in the locker rooms during lunch, jumping from locker to locker and hiding inside them, and the gym teacher caught us. I stayed cool and lied through a sweet, innocent grin about how we were just trying to find a lost phone. It actually worked. It kind of fell apart when we went to an amusement park for a field trip thing. I couldn't afford a fast pass, and she could, and she just left me and ran to join another group. I was so upset. 27: Talk about your favorite part of someone else's body. // I love my mom's hair. It's so beautiful. It's black and curly, with a streak of silver cutting through it. 29: Talk about what turns you on. // Beautifully choreographed fight scenes accompanied by classical music or dubstep. 31: Talk about what you think death is like. // Death is something that scares me because no one really knows what it's like. It could be just straight up nothing. I hope it's not. I hope that.... I hope there is a heaven. And I hope that it isn't boring. I don't think I could describe heaven. It's too great for the imagination. 33: Talk about what you do when you are sad. // I usually eat a lot of snacks while curled up in a nest of blankets and listen to depressing music and/or movie soundtracks. Or I watch cartoons. 35: Talk about things you wish you could stop doing. // Being passive aggressive, for one. I do it a lot, especially when I'm upset but don't want to admit it. But it's a shitty thing to do. I also wish I could stop chewing my lip because it really hurts and it's a bad habit I need to break but can't. 37: Talk about someone you thought you were in love with. // I thought I was in love with this boy back in sixth grade, but it turns out it was just a crush I developed because I figured I needed to have one and he was good at track. Anyway the moral of the story is sixth graders don't know what being in love is and honestly I still don't think I've quite figured it out. 39: Talk about things you wish you'd known earlier. // One. Don't get angry with people just to be dramatic, because it just ends up hurting everyone and it doesn't make you feel any better. Two. You're not better than other people just because you've read a book or two. Three. People fall out of love far more quickly that they fall in love. Four. Don't be afraid to be a little weird. Everyone is weird, and life is to short to pretend otherwise. Five. Don't get too emotionally invested in people who won't do the same for you.