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ladyartemesia · 3 years

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The Kiss

◐ PART VIII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐ Part VII ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker, descriptions of violence, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, strong sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, lots of people have, use and are threatened by knives, kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker…

Word Count: 4250

Author’s Note: I said it before but it bears repeating...You have no idea what your support has meant to me. Truly your asks and your messages and comments…they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As many of you know I faced a medical emergency recently and you were all so lovely. The best followers on this site and I MEAN that. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx and @untaemedqueen were (and continue to be) the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story. It wouldn’t be here without you.

——◐——

Two Years Ago

——◐——

Centuries ago the moon goddess stumbled across her human soulmate while he was sleeping. Struck by his beauty, but reluctant to reveal her identity, the goddess began to visit him in his dreams where she could hide her true form and appear before him as a mortal woman.

In the world of dreams their love flourished and from that blessed union the packs were born…

The wolf nations celebrated this sacred romance every ten years during the Festival of the Lover’s Moon…

The day of the festival was spent eating and drinking and dancing at large parties, but when the sun went down… well—

That’s when things got really interesting.

On the night of Lover’s Moon the young unmated wolves of the pack were permitted to commemorate this legendary love story in a decidedly scandalous manner.

The unmated men assumed the role of the goddess’s sleeping lover—they were blindfolded (to represent slumber) and led into a large sectioned off area of the dark forest to ‘wait and dream.’

Unmated she-wolves over the age of maturity (eighteen) took herbal scent suppressors and ventured out into that very same forest in order to anonymously ‘visit’ the young men ‘in their dreams’...

The rules for what exactly that meant were pretty fast and loose which was why Min Yoongi was thanking the goddess and every other deity he could think of that Yunli was still seventeen.

“But I will be eighteen in two days! Please can’t I just—“

“No. Absolutely not under any circumstances ever.”

“But Yoonji is going!”

“Ji-ah is nearly nineteen and has never been interested in any of the snotty little man-pups of our pack.” He snorted. “She’s probably going out just so she can shove a bunch of them in the lake.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Yunli mumbled irritably.

Kim Taehyung yawned idly and snuggled into the cozy little pallet he prepared at the base of his favorite tree. The blindfold he and all the other unmated ‘lovers’ wore was made from witchcloth and could not be removed while the sun was down—so he had snuck into the forest earlier to set everything up.

Now all he had to do was wait until—

“H-Hi Taehyung.”

Oh sh—

“Uh. Hello...Miss.”

Taehyung didn’t recognize the owner of that voice, but he knew for sure who it wasn’t.

“I was hoping to find you tonight.”

This is not good.

“Well I’m—I’m flattered… naturally but—”

She touched his hand and he squeaked.

“I was thinking you and I might get to know each other a little bet—eep!”

The sharp point of a custom blade pressed directly into the unfortunate young beta girl’s pulse point.

“Are you lost, puppy?”

A heavy cloak obscured the newcomer’s features, but there was no mistaking her meaning.

Taehyung bit his lip to keep from snorting as the poor she-wolf scrambled away.

“Ji-ah,” he tsked with feigned disapproval, “that wasn’t very nice.”

Min Yoonji grinned as she sheathed her wicked looking dagger and slid languidly into his arms.

“You don’t like nice girls, Kim Taehyung.”

“I like you,” he whispered breathlessly against her lips. “Nice or not—it doesn't matter to me…” His hands slid greedily over her soft curves—pulling her closer till he felt the beat of her heart against his own. “I’ll like anything as long as it’s you.”

This was the stupidest idea in the history of stupid ideas.

Jimin huffed as he struggled to find a comfortable position against the giant boulder he’d chosen as his perch.

Why did I let Taehyung talk me into this?

He could be at home—in bed—comfortably sleeping off the all-day feast he’d indulged in.

Instead he was out in the middle of the forest sitting blindfolded on a rock in the off chance that one of the she-wolves was out looking for him.

Not bloody likely.

Not when prime targets like Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook—and countless others—were scattered throughout the woods.

“Park Jimin?”

Every hair on Jimin’s body stood on end.

It was a soft whisper—the speaker clearly didn’t want her voice to be recognized, yet something about the sound sent a curious frisson of interest down his spine.

He gulped.

“Yes… that’s me. But if you’re looking for Hoseok he’s just a little deeper in. You probably caught his scent downwind so—”

“I’m not looking for Hoseok.”

Jimin licked his lips and the sight of it sparked a odd curl of heat in the pit of your belly.

“I don’t know where anyone else is…”

“That’s quite alright.” A muted shuffle of movement reached his ears as you settled down beside him. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh…” He rubbed the back of his neck idly. “Are you sure?”

Laughter like fairy bells whispered through the air and Jimin felt his heart clench.

Don’t get your hopes up.

“Who are you?”

You were silent for a long time and then—

“I am someone who owes you a debt. One I have never been able to repay.”

Jimin’s head tilted curiously as he considered your words.

“I’m sorry, miss… you must be mistaken. There isn’t—“

“You don’t remember.”

It was a statement—not a question. Your voice was nearer now. He could feel the warmth of your body close to his—though not quite touching. “It was your wolf that saved me. But you had not gone through the Change yet.”

Familiar shame spiked sharply in his chest.

“I’m seven years past the Change...Why have you never mentioned this before?”

“Circumstances prevented me from doing so.”

There was a cold finality to your pronouncement—which of course did nothing but further inflame his curiosity.

“Then why come to me now?”

“I’ve come to repay you.”

Jimin’s mouth dropped open.

Were you trying to—?!

“Oh—no please that-that’s not necessary—I could never take advantage of—”

You giggled again.

“I am not offering my body, Park Jimin.”

Jimin breathed a heavy sigh of relief then shook his head with a wry chuckle.

“Well considering the circumstances I can hardly be blamed for assuming you might be. And honestly most men would jump at the chance to—”

“You...are not most men.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed beneath his blindfold.

“Little she-wolf—I may not be wrestling bears for fun or bare knuckle boxing in the town square, but I am still an alpha.”

The weight of his command poured over your body as he spoke the last word. There was no order or intent—he had simply given you a taste of his power.

Aside from your direct blood relatives, no alpha had ever dared unleash their compel in your presence—therefore you were utterly unprepared for the effect it had on you—

Utterly unprepared for the strange surge of want so potent and profound that it stole the breath from your body.

It was primal—invigorating—

Sensual.

You and your wolf may not have been entirely connected yet, but she was suddenly quite vocal about her desire to fully bask in Park Jimin’s attention.

A wicked grin played over his lips as he leaned in closer and you could almost feel the soft brush of his lips against your cheek.

“Did you think I would not desire the touch of a beautiful woman in the moonlight?” he whispered.

Please touch me, Alpha.

Your eyes widened.

Dear goddess. Your inner wolf was turning out to be a shameless hussy.

“You might desire it, but you are far too honorable to accept it as payment for a debt.”

Jimin drew back warily.

You were correct of course. After all he had refused you when he believed that was your intent but—

“How could you know that?”

Evade. Evade now.

“Well... how could you know I was beautiful? You’re blindfolded.”

He shrugged and your wolf took careful note of the way it made all the pretty muscles in his back and shoulders ripple.

He will give us such strong—

Oh boy.

He will do no such thing. Please calm down.

“Not everything must be seen with your eyes.”

Is that how you found me? All those years ago...

Questions churned chaotically beneath your consciousness but you dared not give voice to them.

Focus.

“I must repay this debt. Ask for what you want and—if it is in my power—I swear it will be yours.”

Jimin smiled again, but this time it was somehow softer. For a moment he looked almost…

Sad.

“I’m afraid that the only thing I have ever wanted is not within your power to give...and I dare not ask you or anyone else for it.”

For her.

He sighed and drew even farther away from you—in fact it seemed like he was preparing to leave.

No.

Your hand reached out almost of it's its own accord and wrapped tightly around his wrist. The contact sent a shock of searing heat through his veins and he froze.

“Please alpha. It is not acceptable for someone like me—” a leader, a Luna, “—to owe another my life and offer nothing in return. You must let me pay my debt.”

Omega, his wolf growled, sweet perfect omega.

Suppressors may have hidden your scent, but the siren song of an omega pleading prettily in his ear was unmistakable—irresistible…

“What if all I want is your name?”

You sighed deeply.

“I cannot give you that. My name is… not mine to offer.”

Jimin laughed.

“A woman I cannot remember with a name I cannot know and whose face I cannot see.” He shook his head. “Perhaps you are just a figment of my imagination.”

It was hard to explain what happened next...For whatever reason his words cut you deeply and you were overcome with the desire—no need—to refute them somehow.

“I’m real enough,” you whispered, bringing his hand to your cheek.

Jimin was genuinely beginning to wonder if you were a witch as well as a she-wolf. Being close to you was intoxicating and the urge to draw you in was steadily overpowering every other thought.

“Could I ask you for a kiss, then?”

“You—...You saved my life and all you want... is a kiss?”

The air grew heavier as the strange magnetic pull between you swelled to a silent inescapable crescendo.

“In Seoul I often searched for someone who could ease my loneliness, yet each time I walked away emptier than before.” His thumb brushed gently over your lips and your eyes fluttered shut. “I have never had a kiss that meant anything to me.”

But yours might.

It was unclear who moved first, whether he pulled you to him or you surged forward but when your bodies aligned and your lips met his for the first time it was as if you had never been separate from one another.

As if you had always been deeply—intimately —together.

The indescribable feel of him lit over your senses like a struck match. It was an ignition in the purest sense of the word— a fiery visceral awakening fueled by a consuming flood of desire.

Yes, Alpha.

He might never see your face or hear your name, but Jimin knew he would remember the taste of you for the rest of his life. It was hot and bright like liquid sunshine— a pure relentless light flowing through him where there was once only darkness.

A soft needy moan rose up from your chest and he growled in primal satisfaction as you melted against him.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt of their own accord, desperately trying to bring him closer until he wrapped his arms around you in a heated embrace.

“Please,” he begged breathlessly against your mouth. “Please tell me who you are.”

The words crashed over you like a bucket of ice —dousing the hazy pleasure of his kiss with a cold bite of reality. Suddenly you were wrenching yourself away from him and your wolf whimpered in misery at the loss of his touch.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

And then you were gone.

“Did someone hurt you?”

You looked up to find Jin taking in your tears with cold fury.

Twin knives were already gleaming dangerously in his hands and he appeared ready to filet whichever bastard was foolish enough to make you cry.

“No,” you sniffed—well aware of how pitiful you were at the moment—crying in the corner of your cousin’s kitchen. “I got myself into this mess without any help—as usual.”

Jin sighed and slid down next to you.

“Tell me.”

“Something happened that I…I didn’t intend.”

“Oh I knew that already. The Luna isn’t supposed to be running around on the night of Lover’s Moon in a forest full of blind horny wolves—“

You snorted and shook your head.

“You’re absolutely right. I should have stayed away.”

Jin’s eyes narrowed and he wondered if perhaps you had caught Kim Namjoon with another omega. Nothing would be official until after the Change of course, but your bond with him was basically a foregone conclusion at this point.

“You went looking for someone...didn’t you.”

You nodded miserably—all but confirming his fears. He made a mental note to push Namjoon in the swamp at the next available opportunity.

“You know... the stories say that a Luna is powerfully drawn to her mate under the Lover’s Moon—that her wolf can sense him even before the Change.” He reached over and gently began to brush the tears from your eyes. “So it’s not surprising that you sought him out, but it’s not really fair to hold whatever it is you saw against him. There is no relationship between you yet and…” he chuckled, “kisses beneath festival moonlight don’t really mean anything anyways.”

It was clear that Jin had somehow gotten the entirely wrong impression, but perhaps that was for the best.

No one knew of your connection to Jimin and no one had seen what passed between you.

Still…

Something about his assessment stung you.

“You really believe that? ...That a kiss exchanged tonight means nothing?”

“I do.” Jin spoke with conviction. “There’s ancient magic at play in those woods. You can’t always trust what you see—or what you feel.”

“Oh I...I didn’t know…”

After a moment you laid your head against his shoulder and let the last of your tears run silently down your cheek.

“Jin-ah have you ever wanted something you knew you couldn’t have?”

“Yes.” He sighed heavily and pulled you in to snuggle a bit closer. “When I was younger I dreamed of having a mate just like everyone else…”

The words were so softly spoken—almost wistful. Your heart splintered just hearing them.

“But… she could be out there—your mate.”

Jin shook his head.

“When is the last time you heard of a female alpha?”

Fresh tears welled up in your eyes.

“Jin…”

“Hey,” he whispered, “don’t waste your crying on me. I’ve long since come to terms with who and what I am.”

“You’re not sad anymore?”

“Well… maybe sometimes I am… but I had to accept that people like us are not like everyone else. Our destinies were written long before we were born.”

“And you believe you’re destined to be alone?”

“Wolves in a pack are never really alone.”

“Yes...but they can be lonely,” you whispered thinking back to Jimin’s words.

For a moment Jin’s eyes were the saddest you had ever seen them.

“Well...I suppose they can.” Then he chuckled and gave your nose an affectionate little tap. “But you don’t need to worry about that. When the time comes Namjoon will take his place at your side and the two of you will build a wonderful life together... Isn’t that what you want?”

Isn’t it?

Your treacherous thoughts drifted back to the boy in the moonlight—to the way your body sang when he touched you and the strange insatiable desire to know him and be known by him in return.

“Please...Tell me who you are.”

A heavy ache settled in your heart.

You were the Luna of the mountain nations. A true born moon princess.

You could never be the woman who kissed Park Jimin underneath the stars.

You were not like everybody else.

“...Yes. That is what I want.”

——◐——

Now

——◐——

Jimin’s heart pounded as he tore through the dark paths of the wood with Taehyung, Yoongi, and Jungkook close behind.

He had never led an attack—had never been trained to command wolves in battle.

It was his first true test of leadership and he hadn’t even been a leader for twenty-four hours.

Yet the fears and anxieties that might have normally clouded his mind were notably absent.

There was only you.

Ironically Jimin owed Namjoon yet another debt—this time for explaining what exactly someone like him was capable of.

The alpha Jin captured had given up their plan and position after being exposed to Jimin’s unique gifting, so he had a concrete target in his mind… He suspected however, that your captors had taken precautions after leaving some of their men behind. They had shifted their camp.

But it wouldn’t be enough to save them.

Jimin didn’t need your location to find you.

He spent years refusing to look at you, and even then he always knew exactly where you were. He could sense you in any crowd—hear your voice in a thousand.

Once it had tormented him cruelly to be so aware of you.

Now it was the only thing keeping him sane.

He followed the connection between his heart and yours like a lifeline and it guided him as surely as the stars.

The alphas followed him without question.

If any of them harbored lingering doubts before, they were firmly laid to rest after what they saw at the cottage. No ordinary wolf could do what he had done.

The Alpha would bring back their Luna and retribution would be swift indeed.

The drugs in your system kept swinging you in and out of lucidity like a nightmarish pendulum. You tried to shift after the initial nausea faded, but whatever they gave you kept your wolf caged beneath your skin.

Jimin

The longing you felt for your mate was the only thing tethering you to reality. You could almost hear him echoing in the far corners of your mind—

I’m coming Omega—hold on.

I’ll find you.

Part of you recognized that his voice was likely nothing more than the wistful creation of your drug-addled mind, still you clung to it like the last shred of hope while the minutes (or hours) flew past.

Chaos clouded your thoughts even in clearer moments as many unavoidable concerns forced their way through the haze.

Jin was at the house with you when they broke in. You had no way of knowing if he survived.

The men who took you were crass and irreverent. Their eyes followed your form with too much interest and too little respect.

It was starting to get cold and (due to you nearly dismembering a high council member and needing to be compelled unconscious) you were still wearing a thin white ceremonial dress which offered very little protection from the elements.

You wondered idly if your idiot captors would let you freeze to death before they accomplished whatever it was they took you for. They clearly needed you for something or you would have been long dead by now.

None of them struck you as particularly brilliant planners so the mastermind must be somewhere else...

Frankly the entire situation was as puzzling as it was troubling. Iron Claw had always gotten along well with your pack.

Technically they were (almost) what the human governments called a vassal state. The presence of a Luna determined the dominant pack in a region and the Luna of the mountain nations had been born into Silver Fang—your pack—for the last thousand years or so.

Why would they challenge us now?

The birth of a Luna indicated that the goddess had chosen that pack to lead. Their willingness—not only to kidnap you—but to go against the dominant pack by doing so was alarming to say the least.

A sudden explosion of movement and sound interrupted your contemplation. Motion erupted all around you—boots pounding on the ground, men falling into their wolf forms, knives being drawn…

You lifted your head—straining forward to see the source of the commotion—and nearly collapsed in relief when you finally did.

Alpha

Your mate stood at the edge of the camp flanked by two enormous black wolves.

A deadly looking jingum sword gleamed dangerously in his right hand. You recognized it immediately as your great-grandfather’s combat blade—the thousand year-old weapon of the Silver Fang Alphas.

Relief flooded your chest all over again at the sight of it. Only Jin could have given him that sword—which meant he was still alive.

The black wolves—Yoongi and Jungkook—snarled viciously but made no move to attack.

Your captors were still scrambling into some sort of combat formation when Jimin finally spoke.

“You have violated our sacred laws, trespassed in sovereign pack lands, kidnapped a Luna under the protection of our goddess, abducted the mate of the Silver Fang Alpha, and risked open war between our peoples.” He took a single step forward. “Surrender now and I will be merciful.”

The biggest of your captors—a man you recognized as the de facto leader—spat viciously on the ground.

“You are not my Alpha,” he growled.

A cold—almost cruel—smile twisted over Jimin’s lips.

“Very well.”

Then he dropped to one knee and a massive grey wolf—Taehyung—leapt over his head and tore out the defiant leader’s throat before he even hit the ground.

Your mouth dropped open.

Bangtan formation.

Yoongi and Jungkook lunged forward in opposite directions, tackling their targets to the forest floor in a bloody clash of teeth and claws.

One of the larger Iron Claw alphas half-shifted and charged Jimin but his arm shot out lightning fast, catching his attacker by the throat to send him flying through the air into a tree.

The next several minutes could only be described as terrifyingly beautiful.

It was immediately clear that Jimin had been holding back when he fought Namjoon.

He dispatched his opponents with such elegant savagery it was almost art.

You were so mesmerized watching Jimin sensually sword dance his way through a dozen alphas nearly twice his size that you almost missed Taehyung’s wolf rushing over with a dagger clenched between his teeth.

Luna are you okay?

You grinned and held up your rope-bound wrists.

“I’ll be better once you pass me that knife.”

Taehyung nodded once and dropped the blade at your feet before tackling another wolf that was tearing towards the two of you.

You sawed through the ties around your ankle first then twisted your arms to try and slice through the restraints on your wrist.

The Iron Claw wolves were clearly no match for Jimin and his alphas.

Jungkook and Yoongi chased after the few who were trying to run while Taehyung half-shifted to subdue the handful of wolves left alive as prisoners. Only Jimin continued to fight as the last three of your captors still standing took turns being slammed into the dirt by his strikes.

He was clearly capable of dispatching them, but you were fairly convinced that you would die if you had to stay away from him for another second. The ropes, however, were surprisingly thick and the angle you were cutting them at wasn’t the best. If only—

You were almost free when you saw it.

One of your captors had pulled a hunting javelin from their supply wagon. He must have hid himself at the onset of the fight, but now he was comfortably concealed by the shadows—and taking aim at Jimin.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

The attacker appeared to handle the weapon with familiarity. He was too far back—too well hidden—Jimin would never see him in time—

The last cord around your wrist snapped and you were on your feet, pushing through the combined haze of fury and sedatives to charge the wolf who dared attack your mate.

By the time he saw you it was far too late.

Under the effects of the drug your aim was a little skewed but you weren’t Kim Seokjin’s cousin for nothing.

One clean flick of your wrist and the dagger shot through the air, burying itself between the brute’s shoulder blades—all the way to the hilt.

His body fell to the ground just as Jimin sent the last of your captors careening into a pile of previously defeated foes.

For a moment all was quiet.

Then your eyes locked across the distance and everything around you sharpened to a single whispered word.

“Jimin.”

He had run non-stop for miles and torn apart a dozen wolves to get to your side—no amount of space between you now was tolerable.

The sword clattered to the forest floor as he moved toward you—desperate to feel you—to wrap himself around you and know that you were safe.

What happened next was as natural as breathing.

You opened to him and he lifted you into his arms, taking your lips in a hot unrepentant kiss.

Fire exploded across your senses, burning away everything but the touch and taste of him. Every part of you was at once fiercely and gloriously alive. Desperate moans passed between you as he licked into your mouth—a dark primal promise of the pleasure he would take between your thighs.

“Alpha,” you whimpered, too delirious with want to manage anything else.

Suddenly Jimin’s eyes shot open. His hands flew to cup your face, searching it with a mixture of realization and disbelief.

“You… It was you.”

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neutron-stars-collision · 4 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 18 - Holy Ghost

Masterlist; Chapter 17

Summary: First few days in Tallinn are like a calm before the storm, while you and Neil are getting used your new dynamic. It proves to be rather surprising...

Warnings: 18+ (yep, she did it again because these two wanted to); swearing.

Author’s Notes: So ummm... I’m not sure what happened here and you’ll be the judges of that. All I can say is that I’ve been inspired by the skewed tie and that Tallinn will take at least two more chapters because they keep getting distracted. Hope you’ll enjoy! Feedback is always welcome as I’m not sure what I’m doing...🙈

The lovely edit has been provided by my amazing and talented friend @sh3tani (thanks for putting up with my bs 💕)

Despite technically being a Tenet agent for a while, the dramatic changes of pace in your life never failed to amaze you. After that careless morning in London, mere hours later you got the text from TP, sending you and the Cavalry to Tallinn. Minutes afterwards, Neil burst into your room saying that the younger TP called, giving him directions to run a few lab tests and then to meet him in the capital of Estonia, as well. Neither of you had any clues as to why but then that was rather expected.

That is how you found yourself in a safe house in the suburbs of Tallinn. For security and convenience, you have joined Ives’s squad there while Neil booked a hotel room nearby to keep up the appearances before TP. For the first few days, the boss has not yet arrived in the city, and therefore, as Neil put it, there was much more room to maneuver. Whatever that meant.

Estonian safe house was a relatively vast apartment on the ground floor of an old brick house. It had six bedrooms furnished with simple Ikea beds, bedside tables, and a small wardrobe. There was also one bathroom (hell of an inconvenience for nine people occupying the place) and a kitchen opening into a living room with sofas and tv. The space was nearly barren save for the objects needed to survive for however long you were bound to stay there. On the day of your arrival, Ives sent you and Wheeler to the shop for the supplies, reasoning being that apparently you two had most brain cells in the whole team. You enjoyed the possibility to charge your introvert batteries before days spent with eight people, of which only two you actually knew. With close to no information concerning the point of the mission, the days have been spent idly chatting, playing games, and watching television. In Estonian, naturally. For you, a crucial part of the survival became continuous reception and the ability to reach out to Neil when needed. Which was often and soon became a passing joke among the rest of the company. Once Henrik tried to steal your phone and ended up with a bread knife pressed against his neck, the innocent fun ended. That was on day two.

Luckily you got your own room, while the others were forced to share. This you owed to the fact that you were not part of the squad and hence had the right to privacy. It proved rather useful the day when unexpected company came. You were busy trying not to burn the scrambled eggs on a scratched-up pan, half humming a song you heard on the radio. Despite the early hour, everyone was up and either moving about or outside on a run. If there was anything you have learned from the experience so far, it was that Tenet soldiers started the day early and were shit at cooking. Eggs, instant noodles, and oven pizzas were the menu staples. Sighing, you picked up the only clean plate left when you heard a commotion in the hallway. Not long after, a voice called out:

“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor” you did not like the amused undertone in that information.

“Yeah…?” hesitantly, you stepped into the hallway.

The cheeky grin was quite the sight at 9 am.

“Good morning, sunshine” you resisted the urge to break the plate on Neil’s head.

At least he brought coffee.

“Hey,” warily you looked at Michael, who was loitering next to you, interested in the situation “Should we…?” looking at the door to your room, you met Neil’s gaze.

“Naturally” he smiled and followed you in.

Only once you closed the door behind you both, blocking out the curious stares, you breathed out the air you did not know you were holding. You set the plate on the bedside table and grinned as Neil carelessly threw himself onto your bed.

“Thought I’ll get a kiss or something for all that awkwardness out there” you commented, eyeing the man sprawled on your mattress.

Briefly, you marvelled at how you have managed to become this comfortable with each other. But then almost having sex was bound to count for something. Supposedly.

“You will if you come here” Neil raised his head and extended a hand in an invitation.

Mournfully you glanced at your abandoned breakfast and crossed the space, intertwining your fingers with his. You were not surprised when Neil pulled you down onto the bed, only just managing not to lie on him. Feigning disappointment, he huffed and leaned in, kissing you slowly. Deepening the kiss, you tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him closer. With legs interlocked, half-lying on the narrow bed, it was all too real. In moments like this, it was easy to believe that maybe it was meant to be. Breaking up the kiss, you opened your eyes to stare at Neil. In the soft light coming through the opened shutters, you could clearly see the darker rims around his blue irises. In the morning, his eyes resembled the colour of an ocean. The long eyelashes framing the eyes and the eyebrows, furrowed in concentration, gazing back at you. Your eyes then landed on his parted mouth, the corners turned down slightly, and the shape of his lips. You wondered how someone this beautiful could choose you among all the people in the universe.

“Your breakfast and the coffee are getting cold” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Do you want me to get up?” running your fingertips over his temple, you reveled in the intimacy of the moment.

Neil smiled and raised your joined hands to kiss your knuckles.

“Not really. I like having you this close so I can stare” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Same, actually,” you mirrored his expression, dragging fingers through the golden hair.

It seemed like your London evening full of important conversations gave you more confidence. Suddenly it was not that scary to share your thoughts and feelings with him because there was a chance he will understand. Or at least not ridicule you. As though Neil was reading your mind, he asked:

“What are you thinking about?” you could tell he was genuinely interested.

That was enough to make you feel a surge of feelings towards him. Maybe it won’t hurt to say something… Taking a deep breath, you warned:

“Just don’t laugh,”

“I’ll do my best” Neil bopped your nose quickly, making your brain short-circuit for a second.

What even. Focusing all your attention on him, your eyes wandered over his face. Resting on all the features that made him the man you loved.

“Sometimes I just can’t get over how beautiful you are… like a bloody masterpiece” you cupped his cheek “And I’ve no clue why you’re so fixed on me” sighing dejectedly, you awaited a response.

If the slightly widened eyes were any clue, he was surprised by your admission.

“That was probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten” Neil stumbled over the sentence.

So, it was worth saying. For another time, you left the discussion on how that could even be true.

“Have you seen yourself though? How could I not be fixed on you?” it was Neil’s turn to cup your cheek, making you blush.

The pure confidence in his eyes was too much to bear at the moment. Sitting up, you kicked him lightly, enjoying the affronted look.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you moved to stand up, but Neil took hold of your waist, sitting up as well.

You were too close again, noses brushing. It was easy to lean in and kiss him. Only when you did, a knock resounded in the room. Fucking hell.

“Can I come in?” the cockney accent was a giveaway “I bloody hope you two aren’t getting up to stuff”

Despite yourself, you giggled with your lips still brushing over Neil’s, making him sigh. For a millisecond, he tightened his grip over your waist and then let go and moved an inch away. You looked at him for permission before calling out:

“Be our guest”

In an attempt to look as casual as it was possible, you grabbed the plate with your cold eggs and passed Neil his coffee. Sitting back down on the bed, you pasted a neutral smile onto your face. As if that would divert anyone’s attention from your tangled hair and Neil’s flushed cheeks. Ives opened the door and scrutinized you both quickly, not missing how you frowned upon the first bite of your breakfast. Then he gave Neil a quick pat on the back:

“Good to see you, mate” he perched on the windowsill for the lack of any other furniture “I was hoping you’d at least come to say hi” he gave you both a knowing glance.

Cursing your own inability to say no to Neil, you grudgingly finished the eggs and took another sip of the lukewarm coffee. Next time, food first, then kissing. No matter how irresistible the bastard might be.

��I was planning to, only…” the bastard in question shrugged before glancing at you shortly.

“Oh, I know. Priorities and all that” Ives smirked upon your deepening blush “I get it, believe me. Plus, seeing how often Y/N is glued to her phone, I reckon you two are doing good” he winked.

Sensing Neil’s growing discomfort, you shot back:

“Don’t talk about me as though I wasn’t here” it was hard to look threatening when staring at someone like Ives, but you did your best.

“Or?” he arched his eyebrow amusedly.

“I’ll shoot you”

The sudden tense silence got interrupted by Neil breaking into a laugh, collapsing against you. So much for pretending you could keep away from each other. Once he calmed down, he rested his head on your shoulder and said:

“And that’s why I like you”

You did not know it was possible to blush even more. And yet. Even though what he said was hardly a surprise, he never mentioned anything like that with others present. Before you could come up with any response, Ives commented:

“Aren’t you two cute, eh?”

Lord give me strength…

“Ives” you warned, reaching for the gun you always kept in the drawer by the bed.

He laughed and raised his hands in defence.

“Okay, I’ll stop now” he glanced at Neil, who was comfortable enough, still leaning on you “Has he given you any more clues?”

You relaxed once the conversation steered onto more professional tracks.

“Not really. I ran the analysis on the gold bar he sent, and well, there’s literally nothing concrete there” Neil shrugged, “But I think it has something to do with the plutonium piece that went missing back in Kiev” he added.

“Is that part of the Algorithm?” you asked.

The topic has not really come up since your first conversation with TP in Boston, but from the information you got from Neil and others in the organisation, it seemed like the pieces were set in motion. In the Kiev Opera, another part of the compound has been lost. Maybe its purpose was to resurface in Tallinn so that you could take over.

“Yeah” Neil confirmed your suspicions with a curt nod.

“How… how do you know about this?” it was Ives’ turn to be confused, looking at you with palpable shock in his eyes.

Right… Sometimes it was hard to keep track of who knew what and why. And that was one of such moments. Straightening your back, you explained:

“TP told me. Apparently, I’ll have a role to play hence why I’m being dragged into this” glancing at Neil, who all of sudden looked rather sombre, you added, “Not only because of this idiot” giving in to the temptation, you ruffled his hair.

“…thanks” pouting, Neil moved away.

“Welcome”

*** You have left the apartment and quickly checked the maps again. Neil set your meeting for a rather obscure park square in the downtown area of the city since that was where he was supposed to meet TP later. At first, you wanted to refuse, to tell him that it was risky to go for a walk with the boss nearby. But then, you knew there was not much point in saying no to something that tempting. It was enough that you might not be able to spend time together at all the next few days.

Just when you were sure you have gotten lost in the greyness of the apartment blocks and identical streets, you spotted him waiting on the bench. The icy wind was ruffling his hair as Neil stared at the pavement, unaware of your attention. You smiled at the sight of his brown and green outfit and those strange shoes; you have seen the brogues before in Oslo. Now that was something worth a call out later. Ending the scrutiny, you approached him and, as a means of greeting, brushed the hair away from his forehead. That worked, as it always did. The blue eyes snapped up to meet yours:

“Hello” you offered him a small smile.

“Tere, kallis” the grin combined with the strange words he uttered made you frown.

“I hope that was something appropriate”

He took your hand in his and pulled you down onto his lap. The happy sparks in his eyes were almost enough to make you ignore the cold and the embarrassment of the situation.

“I thought you said we’re going for a walk” forcing a stern tone was difficult with how Neil gently cupped your flushed cheek.

“That we are. But first, I wanted to get you up close and personal” he brushed his nose against yours tenderly.

“I see…” with the corner of your eye you could see an older woman observing you from the nearby bench.

With a start, you realised how very much alike a couple you must look to any passerby. Sitting on Neil’s lap, with his arm securing you around the waist and your faces inches away, there were no questions about the nature of your relationship. But, somehow, that was okay. A stronger gust of wind made you shiver, which he noticed straight away and pulled you even closer, your lips nearly touching. The blue of his irises and the depth of focus in them made you gasp. It was always like this with him, as though you were the only person in the universe that mattered.

“We’ll get going now, only…” Neil met your gaze with a silent question.

You nodded. He could do anything he wanted anyway. He met your lips in a slow kiss, relishing in the feeling for at least half a minute. You placed your hand on the back of his neck to bring him a little closer, suddenly grateful for the position he put you in. Then, just as the kiss threatened to get more heated, Neil broke the contact and leaned back, taking in your dazed expression. He always knew how to get to you.

“Now we can go” he smirked, and you had no choice but to slide off his lap.

As soon as you were both standing, Neil grabbed your hand again and intertwined your fingers. As usual. It did seem like neither of you wanted to pretend today, and instead letting yourselves explore the ‘not-quite relationship’ you got into. For once, the voices in your head were silent, seemingly agreeing to the new developments. You did wonder how long that was bound to last.

“Ives says hi, by the way,” you broke the silence, looking around the cityscape.

This part of Tallinn certainly was not as picturesque as the city centre, but it had to do. After all, your sole focus was Neil. Not much else mattered when you were together. If that did not confirm your feelings, then god knows what did. Sighing, you turned to look at the man in question.

“You told him we’re meeting up?” he asked with a slight crease between his eyebrows.

Confusion, then.

“No. I just said that I’m going out for a walk, and he told me to say hi to you” laughing at the idiocy of the moment you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

In response, you got the signature Neil grin that was the beginning of your downfall all those months previously. Despite the absolute horror you felt during the initial conversation with Ives, now it was somehow less terrifying.

“Ah, I see�� his tongue clicked thoughtfully, only making you laugh harder.

It was difficult to get the next sentence out.

“He also added that he’s surprised he’s not yet caught you sneaking out of my room at night”

The small snorting sound Neil let out made you want to kiss him right there, in the middle of the busy street.

“Why do I feel like he wants it to happen” he glanced at you quickly with an amused expression.

“Maybe it’s his thing” you retorted, savoring the laugh it prompted from your companion.

After that first morning in the safehouse, you have both decided to try and keep away from any rash actions or decisions while in Estonia. You certainly had enough of interruptions, and with the team sharing the space, it was all too precarious. Hence you have been meeting up outside, for strolls or lunch, talking about everything and nothing. Only now, that TP was around, it was bound to change, and you expected that this might be the last of those stolen moments.

“I’m sorry that we had to meet around here today” Neil interrupted your slightly melancholic thoughts “I wanted to take you out somewhere again, but he called, and I think it will be on soon” he lowered his voice to a slightly conspicuous tone, making you smile.

“It’s okay, at least that means I’ll know why the fuck am I even here” shrugging, you looked around at the shops you have passed by.

“For me?” Neil batted his eyelashes innocently while tightening his hold over your hand.

“Apart from that” this time you allowed him honesty “Don’t you ever get tired though? Of me?” the self-sabotaging voice contributed a question.

It was too late to take it back. But the way Neil looked at you then, with disbelief and fondness, was enough to excuse the moment on insecurity.

He stopped walking, making you freeze despite the streams of people going in both directions. You were like an island amidst a fast-flowing river. Neil forced you to meet his gaze by tilting your chin upwards. There was nothing playful in his eyes, just sincerity and love. And determination.

“Do you need me to remind you why that’s impossible?” you did not know when did his voice become so husky.

“Maybe” biting your lip, you searched his face, fascinated and curious.

Neil glanced at the teeth nibbling on your lower lip, and his tongue darted out, seemingly on reflex. Oh. When his eyes met yours again, you could see a hint of a new emotion there. He was hesitating for approximately 10 seconds before he started leading you again with purpose. Before you could ask a single question, he turned sharply into a non-descript alley between two crumbling buildings. It was empty save for a few pieces of trash lying around and a rusted door at the other end, with a metal padlock and a heavy chain. But your quick scan of the environment got interrupted by Neil wrapping his arm around your waist and pushing you at one of the walls. Just before your head could hit the bricks, he cradled the back of it, providing a safeguard. Ever so thoughtful. Wide-eyed, you glanced up at him to gauge the intention. The darkness and resolve you found were enough of an indicator.

“The walk will have to wait” he spoke before crashing his lips against yours.

The instinct kicked in instantaneously, making you respond by bringing him closer with your hand taking hold of his tie. Kissing Neil was like a fix for an addiction you did not want to fight against. No matter how urgent it was, you could always find a tempo that suited you both, neither fighting for dominance. It was like a dance where both were willing to lead and follow. Neil bit into your lower lip, drawing blood, tinting the kiss with that coppery taste. Fuck. You gasped into his mouth, shivering when his tongue ran along the split, licking off the droplets. It was enough to make you want more. As a payback, you caught his upper lip with your teeth, tugging at it lightly to remind him of the potential. But only when you pulled on his tie sharply, making Neil almost collapse against you, he broke the kiss with a groan. His eyes were hazed with lust, making you lightheaded the more you kept on gazing. The bloody shade of red on his lips made your pulse quicken. You still kept the hold on his patterned tie, making sure he was within your reach. His tongue darted out and licked off the remains of blood. That was a good cue to sober up. You released his tie and placed your hand over his heart, relishing in the way he was looking at you, as though you were a sight he could never have enough of.

“Huh…” you broke the silence and glanced at the entryway to the alley.

Thankfully no spectators.

“Is this all you’re going to say?” Neil’s perplexed facial expression made you laugh.

Sometimes it was fascinating to see him that disoriented after a kiss. Because it was a clear sign that not only you were affected by everything that transpired. Another reason to believe that maybe the feeling was mutual. Calming down, you started toying with his shirt collar. Even though heated kisses in dirty alleys were never your kind of thing, with Neil that too was exciting. And something you wanted to repeat.

“I mean… this is rather nice” you met his confused gaze and added, “Being with you like this”

Coherence for more complex sentences was nowhere to be found.

“I’m glad because I wanted that last hour of normalcy before we go back to the usual” Neil staggered over the sentence as well, making your heart stumble with fondness.

Pouring the feeling into your gaze, you grinned at him, running your hands over his shirt and lapels. You knew exactly what he meant. But still, with tongue poking out, you noticed:

“That sentence didn’t make sense, and yet I agree” the way his eyes darted onto your lips was enough to cause a resurgence amidst the butterflies.

Neil leaned in again, eager for another kiss. But you had other ideas, struck with the courage to tease him a little. You dropped your head and kicked him in the foot lightly. Just enough to bring his attention onto the subject of your scrutiny.

“The hell are those shoes though” you smirked upon his utterly lost gaze.

“What? You don’t like them?” the slight pout only made your grin wider.

With the hair in disarray, reddened cheeks, and pink lips, he was more than a sight to behold. And all that because of you. Wow.

“They look a little like you wanted to channel Pennywise or something” you laughed at his blank stare “Remind me to go through your wardrobe one day because you’re selling yourself short with those fashion choices” to emphasize the point you tugged on his tie again and frowned.

But it seemed like Neil managed to recover enough. He placed both of his hands on the wall, blocking your way out. The well-known smirk came back too. You had a feeling that you were about to lose this one battle.

“And yet here you are” he practically purred with a hungry look in his eyes.

You swallowed. Whenever he got like this, showing how much he wanted you, it was hard to think. Raking your head for a response, you settled on honesty again.

“That’s because I admire your soul” eyeing him intently, you added “And hair”

You tugged on the golden strands, making him whine in frustration. Good.

“And eyes” he met your gaze purposefully, a hint of a knowing smile on his face.

Of course, he’d know.

“Yeah” you raised your head.

A challenge he took without hesitation. Neil reached for the scarf wrapped around your neck and loosened it just enough to have access. Before you could do as much as exhale, his lips were on your neck and throat, attacking all the spots that were bound to make you gasp and search for something to hold on to. Cursing, you closed your eyes, letting yourself block everything that was not Neil and his touch. Soon his hands joined in with the exploration, brushing over your body, slipping inside the opened coat and underneath your blouse. Any resistance you might have had was slowly breaking. Blindly, you found his tie again and started to work on undoing the knot with shaking hands. Once you loosened it and undid the first three buttons, you slipped your hand underneath his shirt. You did not even know what you wanted to do. He was there, yours and in reach. That was enough to cause urgency. But any intent you might have had disappeared when Neil finished his study with a harsh bite over your collarbone.

“Jesus Christ…” you huffed and pulled him closer with a finger around his belt loop.

As his hips met yours, he raised his head and met your gaze shamelessly. Nothing but want and adoration. A sudden commotion on the street helped you remember the surroundings. Sighing, you pieced together a sentence:

“This is rather risky, don’t you think?” if anything, the unconscious way in which you bumped your hips against his again was a contradiction to the statement.

Your head was a mess. On one hand, wanting nothing but Neil, right here and now. On the other, doing anything like this in an alley spoke against the last bits of the reason you tried to preserve.

“Yes, but I quite enjoy the thrill” Neil brushed his hand over your stomach and smiled devilishly.

If your experience was anything to go by, and the way it felt when his crotch brushed over your hip, he too was rather invested. That thought gave you some needed courage to respond.

“You like being caught? Then I’m surprised you were so unsatisfied in Oslo” the cheeky smile and a quick touch of your hand over the front of his pants did it.

Neil swallowed hard and took additional few seconds to find words.

“More than being caught I like you. And everything we do... or could do” experimentally, he traced his finger along the line of your belt.

The goosebumps and rising tension within your core were good enough clues towards your feelings on the matter.

“Like what?” the breathlessness of your voice made you frown.

“Like this” in one swift motion, Neil undid the buckle.

Shit. That was enough to raise concern. You wanted him, urgently, but…

“Neil... do you seriously think fucking in an alley is a good idea?” you did know where that word came from, but it was pretty spot on.

“First of all, we’re not fucking. This isn’t that primal” for some reason the way he pronounced it only made matters worse, as did that smirk “Unless one day you feel like it and-” oh hell.

You placed one hand over his mouth, shutting him up, the other ventured into the pocket of your coat, where you always had the small hunting knife hidden.

“I’m going to stab you. Here they won’t find you for days” aiming for a threatening tone, you raised the hand from his mouth.

But not before he somehow managed to kiss your fingers. His eyes were dark, determined to make you break any internal rules you could have.

“Wow, you really have it bad for me” Neil whispered, getting ever closer, ignoring your threats.

Too lost in the strange conversation you have not even realised when he managed to unzip your jeans. Only once you felt his hand slipping between your thighs, you huffed with frustration. Thinking on reasons against letting him do it was getting increasingly harder.

“Neil” was the only warning you could manage.

All thoughts disappeared when he palmed you through the underwear. Searching for support, you put your hands on his shoulders.

“I just want to check if you’re still interested... still so eager,” the satisfied grin told you that it felt just as bad as you expected.

Like this, with him having direct access to check what was working for you, there was nowhere to hide. Once again, he managed to bring you to such a state with worrying ease. His whole body was pressing against yours, with one hand teasing you through the thin layer of clothing. The other has somehow managed to wrap around your throat. Not strong enough to apply pressure, but at the same time making you face him. And increasing the need you felt.

“You’re a bastard” the insult got muddled by the longing you could not hide from your gaze.

Neil caught it, grinning mischievously. The game was on.

“Well... it takes two and all that” he feigned nonchalance, arching an eyebrow.

You knew full well what he was implying. You could practically feel how drenched with arousal you were. Your underwear was wet to touch, thighs clenching around Neil’s hand. That was his cue to keep your legs parted by inserting his knee between them. Here we go again. You wanted him to do something. Anything. But he was resolved to keep you waiting, thinking about all the different ways to make the situation even more unbearable for you. To make you beg for whatever he was willing to give. Your futile attempt to grind on his thigh got stopped with a stronger grip around your throat and a glimpse of something darker in his eyes. You had enough.

“Why are you doing this?” the hoarse tone of your voice was rather shameful.

“Because I know that you actually enjoy it” Neil shrugged and met your gaze with playful sparks in the blue eyes.

You did not want to know how obvious it must have been for him. Then, he slowly stroked you there, earning a muffled curse.

“I would if you finished it for once” you breathed, letting the frustration take over.

The ache between your legs was nearly driving you over the edge now. It was too much. Neil was too close, and yet not close enough.

“I’m giving you food for thought, so to speak” he murmured.

His hand moved; thumb tentatively hooked around the hem of your panties. An offer to take it a step further any second now.

“That you are” you met his gaze defiantly.

If he was so determined to make you suffer, you might as well give him what he wanted.

“Have you been... dreaming about this?” Neil glanced down at where his fingers were getting closer to where you needed him most.

As though he needed to ask. Of course, you have thought about this scenario before. And many others too. After all, you had to somehow deal with those countless times when his pure existence frustrated you in every meaning of the word.

“Mhmm” you hummed, hoping that will be enough of a response.

The smirk was a reward.

“Good”

Unable to withstand the tension any longer, you kissed him hungrily, taking everything you could have. Soon enough, you were both gasping for breath, yet you did not want to let go. Biting, sucking, and nibbling on every part of his mouth available, he was your drug. With his hand still in a loose chokehold and the other so close to your pulsating core, Neil became the sole reason for your existence. Your knees buckled when he sharply tugged at your panties and touched you without the barrier of the undergarment. You broke the kiss and met his wild gaze, both shocked by the sheer pull between you. Only once he drew a finger between your folds, collecting some of the wetness, the moment got interrupted by Neil’s raspy chuckle.

“It’s quite flattering to see you like this and all because of me” you were not sure if you wanted to slap him or kiss him.

But then that was a usual thing with Neil.

“Just don’t get cocky…” it was hard to put together a string of words.

“Or?” his thumb touched your clit, and you hissed sharply “I already know how I’m making you feel”

To prove a point, he drew another gasp from you by starting a circular stimulation of the sensitive nub. You whimpered, suddenly aware of what a sight you must be for him. Utterly ruined because of kisses, touches, and words. You hated being at anyone’s mercy like this.

“Neil…” a weak plea made him meet your gaze “Please just…” helplessly, you tried to convey everything through the expression in your eyes.

He searched your face before letting go of your throat and instead cupping your cheek tenderly. The juxtaposition was enough to make your head spin.

“What do you want?” it was that question again.

Simple and yet not at all. Awaiting the response, Neil stopped all the movement, increasing your frustration and need. You knew that there was no way you could ever walk away from this as though nothing happened. You might as well have some relief.

“Help me before I lose my fucking mind” you breathed out, expecting the smug smile.

Instead, you got the most sickening grin you have ever seen on his face. But combined with the adoration in his eyes, you knew it was exactly what he wanted to hear from you.

“With pleasure” the words rolled off his tongue, and before you could prepare, he went back to stimulating your clit.

Your head almost slammed onto the wall behind when he picked up the pace. Even though you both knew that you hardly needed any additional preparation, Neil took his time, never taking his gaze off you. At the edges of your consciousness, you could feel the rising shame that was bound to consume you later. After all, this was the second time that you have asked him to help you like this. Surely, he would soon get tired of having to deal with your issues and never getting anything in return. But before you could follow that train of thought, Neil inserted a finger, and an unwanted cry rose in your throat.

“Jesus…” to stop yourself from being too vocal, you bit down harshly on your lip, bursting the barely sealed cut.

But Neil tilted your chin, meeting your gaze again.

“No need for that” he caught your lips in a short kiss “Don’t hold back”

Readjusting your hold on one of his shoulders, with the other hand you tugged on the tie you have messed up earlier. He took that as a cue to insert another digit. Too much.

“Christ, Neil” the breathless tone was a revelation even to you “You’re…” unable to finish the sentence, you moaned quietly.

Neil had no issues finding the perfect spot again, making you squirm and roll your hips, grinding down on that conveniently placed thigh. He thought of everything, it seemed. You did wonder how many times before he brought people to their downfall with those hands alone. But then, you would be lying if you would not admit that he had rather nice hands. And that you have not thought about this before Oslo.

“Glad it’s working, love” he commented upon a louder gasp from you.

For some reason, the nickname acted like a trigger. Feeling a surge of frustration, you bucked your hips against his, needing more.

“Don’t call me that” you spit the words out, relishing in the look of surprise in his eyes.

But he only needed a moment to shake it off before picking up the pace and curling his fingers inside you. Now it was close.

“What then?” Neil searched your eyes intently as though he was doing anything else but taking you apart with his two fingers and a thumb.

In response, you could only shudder, feeling your muscles tense in the anticipation of the near end.

“My love?” the proposition broke through the haze overwhelming your mind.

My god. Only with him, those two simple words could cause such an onslaught of feelings. There was something so achingly tender in his gaze that no matter the situation, your heart was set ablaze. He looked as though he was relieved to finally use those words. Suddenly, it was not just Neil lending you a helping hand in an hour of need. It was an act of love, further cementing your status as lovers. You were not sure whether it was that realization or what Neil has been doing to you that made the world explode before your eyes. Perhaps it was both. You only managed to breathe out a warning in the form of his name, but he understood.

“Look at me. I want to see what I did to you” he angled your chin again so you were forced to meet his gaze “So that I can remember this later” the husky whisper was the ultimate push over the edge.

Oh christ. You gripped his shoulder tightly and undid the tie, making it fall to the ground. Neil did not even notice, staring at you mesmerized. With the last bits of sanity, you took hold of his neck, bringing him close. The wave of pleasure made you tense up like a bowstring before you came with a shudder and a cry.

“Neil…” you got struck by the hope you saw in his eyes.

This time nothing was stopping you. No lips on yours to take over the words that were slowly choking you. The high he gave you took away all the inhibitions and worries. Neil was there, with you, a solid presence beneath your fingertips and an anchor to keep you from getting lost in your head. And that was enough.

“I love you” the three words were easy to utter for something you struggled to keep inside that long.

In response, Neil smiled and pressed his forehead against yours tenderly. The darkness in his eyes made way for pure happiness and conviction. Maybe this time it wasn’t a mistake.

“I know” he whispered and covered your lips in a sweet kiss.

Now that you were not holding back anything kissing Neil felt like absolution. You were never particularly religious, but he could be your eternal salvation, for the body and the soul. The only person you ever needed that much.

Breaking the kiss with a sigh, Neil took a step back and retracted the hand that was still stroking your navel. You watched with a slight surprise as he glanced at a watch.

“Are you in a rush?” with cheeks burning, you took out a tissue and passed it to him.

He took it with a curt nod and cleaned his hand. As you observed him like that, with messed up hair, unbuttoned collar, and slightly flushed cheeks, the reality of the situation started dawning on you. Not only have you allowed Neil to finger you in a dirty alley, but also you have confessed your feelings in the heat of the moment. And yet, he was still there…

“Unfortunately, yes, the meeting is in ten, and I still have to get there” Neil picked up the tie from the ground and brushed off the dirt “Trust me, I’d love to continue with this…” carelessly he tied the knot and took a step closer again “But we should leave something for the future too” with playful sparks in his eyes he brushed the hair away from your eyes.

Oh my god.

“Can’t you for once… not do this” sighing heavily, you focused on readjusting the underwear and zipping up your pants.

Everything was better than looking into those blue eyes.

“Where would be the fun in that” Neil buckled your belt, just as quickly as he undid it previously “I must admit that after this, I’m curious to see how you’ll react once I do it properly one day… with my mouth and then…” he trailed off, fingers brushing over your stomach once again.

“Neil… don’t” using your own power, you brushed your hips over his “Or you won’t make it to that meeting” you glanced at his crotch knowingly.

“As tempting as that is… I’d rather not disappoint TP” with a final caress of your side, he took a step back again “Don’t worry about me though. I’ll deal with this later” he adjusted the trousers slightly “I’m used to it” the hint of a smile was enough to help you understand.

You gaped. It was hard to think straight again. Surely…not? Right?

“You- what? Because of me?” you stuttered, bewildered and perplexed.

“Yes, absolutely” Neil shrugged and attempted to smooth his hair “Pretty often, but then you’re quite the inspiration, my love” he winked, enjoying your sudden paralysis.

Now that sort of image was bound to keep you up at night. For some reason, you never thought that he would think about you like that, always assuming there were better fantasies to use in need. But maybe… maybe he had it just as bad as you did.

“I have to run” Neil kissed you on the cheek, bringing your mind back to the present moment.

“Does this… change anything?” you met his gaze, hoping he will catch on to the meaning.

“No, not at all” the soft smile contrasted the recent conversation tone “I’ll text you later”

“You better” you mirrored his smile, watching him disappear in the crowd.

Wow… Now that was an interesting walk. Sighing, you rested your head against the brick wall for a few minutes longer, trying to level your breathing.

*** You were not given much break from Neil that day. To clear your head, you went for a walk around the city centre, visiting curious shops, and spending time in a cosy café. Just anything that did not have to do with the blonde bastard was good enough to shut up your rebelling brain. After all, now he knew everything, and that was a dangerous situation. You did your best to ignore your phone for most of the day however when it buzzed on your way back to the apartment it was hard to resist checking. He did text just as promised:

“Did you miss me?” and then “I’ll have some news for you all later”

Maybe things, in fact, have not changed…

“Maybe a little” smiling, you keyed in the code to the door.

Inside, you quickly settled on the sofa with some indulgent crisps, about to tune into the team’s favourite Estonian soap ‘Õnne 13’, which you all watched every evening. It was terribly boring (especially when one did not understand a single word), and yet after a few days, you wanted nothing but to know what Alma will have for dinner that night. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

The latest dose of drama from the shithole called Morna got interrupted by your phone ringing. Neil, of course. Ignoring the offended stares from the other eight people in the room, you picked up the phone:

“Hey”

“Evening, my love” you could hear how happy he was to use those words.

Your heart summersaulted, making you exhale.

“I like the sound of that” grinning you walked out into the corridor to hide from the curious looks.

“Me too. Is everyone there with you?” jumping straight into the business was probably good for you both.

“Yeah. You’ve interrupted our shitty soap” at your adjective, a choir of outraged voices rose in the living room.

“My bad. Can you put me on the speaker? I could give you a run over the plan”

“Of course,” you motioned for everyone to gather around the table and put your phone in the middle “You’re on”

“Okay, so basically TP wants to take over the plutonium piece that is being transported through Tallinn in three days on its way to a nuclear depot in Italy. The point is not to let it get into Sator’s hands who thinks we’re cooperating with him”

“How will it be transported?” Ives propped his chin on his hand, listening intently.

“Reinforced truck with police escort front and back. Tracked via GPS” leaning back in the chair, you listened to Neil’s voice “Any unplanned stop or different turn and in come the reinforcements”

“What’s his plan then?”

“I believe he wants to take it out on the move with the use of a fire truck. Among others”

The hint of a smile in that sentence made you comment:

“So, you’re not the only crazy one around” earning a few amused grins from the people around, you briefly felt victorious.

Briefly.

“Something tells me you’re into that. Judging by what you let me do to you in that alley”

Fuck. A sharp gasp you let out made everyone turn to look at you. Gripping the edge of the table, you wanted nothing but to disappear. Or die. All the blood drained from your face as you stammered.

“Neil- you-” there was not enough air in the room “I-”

Wheeler shot you a worried look after you let out a small choking sound and spoke:

“Anyway… why are we needed?” the professional tone made everyone turn their attention back to the mission.

You had to thank her later for saving your dignity. And life.

“To be on hand if things get dirty. I’ll send you the brief now it lists the details of his plan” Neil resumed the topic as though nothing happened “Tomorrow, I’ll call to let you know what exactly I need. That’s it for tonight, enjoy your evening”

Before anyone could make a move, you snatched your phone from the table and muttered:

“You’re dead”

You ended the call and stormed off to your room, slamming the doors. You could not believe his audacity to say something like that with everyone on the receiving end. The bastard ought to pay for that. Unable to calm down, with hands shaking violently and your head in absolute disarray, you grabbed the coat and made beeline for the exit out of the flat. It was pretty late for a solitary walk, but you hardly had anything to lose. Before you could make a swift exit, Ives’ stopped you with a hand on the arm. You met his gaze with impatience:

“So… how was the alley?” while he kept his face straight, the amused tone was there.

Bloody men.

“Fuck off” you shook off his hand and opened the door “I’m going out, and hopefully I’ll get killed. Don’t wait up”

Before you slammed the door in his face, you heard the parting words:

“Have fun”

The cold Estonian breeze was a welcomed sensation for your tired and thoroughly pissed off mind. You put up the hood of your coat and wandered off into the night.

*** Unfortunately, no one was willing to kill you. Around 1 am, you grudgingly made your way back to the apartment, relieved when no one was around to corner you. Once you were safe in your locked bedroom, you took out the phone for the first time in three hours. Unsurprisingly there were two missed calls and three texts from Neil, plus one message from Wheeler. She was checking whether you were still alive, which was a rather touching gesture, and so you replied to her first. Then, sighing heavily, you went through the texts from Neil:

“I’m sorry” then “But I wasn’t entirely wrong, was I?” and finally, “Are you alright?”

That son of a bitch…

“You’re so going to pay for this” you typed back and lied down on the bed. He was quick to reply, which meant he stayed up. Potentially waiting for you to reach out. Talking about confusing signals…

“I was hoping you’d say that” you groaned.

“After that disaster of a meeting, I went for a walk. Found a perfect spot for murder in cold-blood. You won’t even know what hit you”

Maybe that will do the job.

“You did. Only a lot earlier than you think”

It didn’t. Sighing, you cursed your inability to leave him on read.

“I’ve had enough of you today, g’night”

“I seriously doubt that, but good night, darling” and then “I hope your dreams will be as good as our little moment”

That surge of frustration was only made worse when you found a stray short blonde hair on your blouse while changing for bed. The idiot not only had your heart, but everything else too, it seemed.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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managedmischiefs · 4 years

Text

don’t leave me//spencer reid

600 follower celebration!! my first one shot in months because ive been so consumed with north. enjoy!!

also I didn’t edit this at all and worked on it for like five hours straight so excuse the mistakes plz and thx

genre: so much angst

pairing: spencer reid x female oc

warnings: drugs, withdrawal, overdose

word count: 5.2k

It isn’t hard to tell when something is wrong with Spencer.

Spencer is generally a sweet, patient, and quick-thinking person, especially at work. I joined the BAU when Elle Greenaway departed from the bureau and left a spot open for a profiler. Spencer didn’t seem to take well to the change in the team dynamic and it seemed like he shut down whenever I was around him. He didn’t talk to me much at all and when he did, it was strictly business. No banter about personal lives occurred between us like it did between Spencer and, well, the rest of the team. I chalked it up to an anxiety over change and I respected that. I gave him the time to warm up to me and thankfully, after a while, he seemed to take a liking to me.

Penelope Garcia is the queen of stirring up drama and once Spencer and I started to bond over our geeky tendencies, like using Doctor Who as a comfort show, and always searching for nerdy apparel in stores, she had no problem stirring the pot. To my understanding, she watched Spencer and I play cards together on the jet one day (on one of the rare days she came in the field with us) and then told Emily that we must be in love with each other. Emily told JJ, JJ told Morgan, Morgan told Hotch, and Hotch told Gideon. Suddenly the whole team became convinced that Spencer and I were madly in love and it only took about ten minutes.

I would never admit it, not yet at least, but Penelope was dead on. Once Spencer and I talked more and spent time together outside of work, I fell hard and fast for him. He truly is unlike any other man in the world. He has no problem with staying at home for a night, in fact, he prefers it. He likes to open the windows when it’s raining to hear the noises of the water making contact with his fire escape. He wants to stay up with me until the middle of the night just so we can make sure we finish every Harry Potter movie on binge days. It’s hard not to fall in love with Spencer Reid. He makes it so easy. Of course, he’s oblivious and his brain is filled with thoughts of self-doubt and inferiority in the looks department, but I don’t need or want him to look like a model. He’s all I need.

But one day, all of this stops. It wasn’t hard to tell that something was wrong with Spencer. It wasn’t a secret that a piece of Spencer’s soul was left in the grave he dug for himself under the watch of Tobias Hankle. It wasn’t a secret that Spencer struggled immensely upon returning home and having light withdrawal symptoms. I tried my best to help him, making trips to his apartment to bring him anything he might need while he was on his mandatory two weeks leave. But he would also give me an unconvincing smile and push me right out the door. He never let me spend more than five minutes inside his apartment. I never saw him sweat, or vomit, or shake, or yawn. I never saw his pupils dilate.

When he returns to work, a bit too soon for my liking, that’s when I start to notice the withdrawal symptoms. And for a little while, I’m okay with it. Withdrawal, although painful and torturous, is a step in the right direction. The drugs are making their way out of Spencer’s system and he is detoxing. I pay extra attention to him to ensure his safety, but nobody else on the team seems to give Spencer any care. They surely get pissed off when he snaps at them and sweats all over the case files and is far too nasty with possible witnesses. Nobody, besides me, gives his attitude any slack. But I continue to keep a close eye on him during the case.

Keeping a close eye, however, reveals to me that Spencer’s withdrawal symptoms continuously disappear and then reappear during the three days we are away. I don’t need Spencer’s level of genius to figure out what is going on.

My heart pounds against my chest when Spencer goes running of the jet the moment it touches down in DC. Not a single pair of eyes follow Spencer’s movements but my own. The others on the team just stand to pull their bags out of the overhead bins. They’re chatting about whether they should go out for drinks or to a restaurant for dinner but they’re not chatting about their friend who clearly has a problem. But I love Spencer more than anything and seeing him struggle makes me hurt inside. Once I retrieve my own carry on and go-bag, I drive straight to Spencer’s apartment. I ignore my fellow team members when they ask me if I want to join them for dinner.

“Spencer?” I knock on his front door and rock back and forth on my feet, waiting for some type of response from him. I saw his car outside and I know he’s here and if he doesn’t open the door within ten more seconds then I’m going to kick it down.

Thankfully, I don’t need to risk breaking the heel of my shoe today because the door swings open a second later. Spencer stands before me, looking the most disheveled I’ve ever seen him. His shirt is untucked, his pants are wrinkly, his hair is half curly from his excess sweating, and he isn’t even wearing socks or shoes. His long sleeve shirt makes my heart drop to my stomach.

“Olive?” His voice cracks when he speaks. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to-” I choke on the words I truly want to say and suddenly I’m pushing back tears. I try to swallow the lump in my throat and give him a smile. “I’m gonna make you dinner! The team is going out together but I’m in the mood to stay in after that horrible case.”

“Uh,” Spencer glances behind him and then whips back to me, “I’m actually really tired and I just wanna sleep. So thanks for coming by-”

My hands fly out when Spencer tries to close the door in my face. I’ve underestimated his strength up until now because I have to use all of my strength to keep him from pushing me out. But Spencer isn’t able to keep up his strength much longer and concedes, letting the door fly backward and unintentionally letting me inside. I drop my bags to the floor, eyes locking with Spencer’s and watching a fire light in them.

“Spencer,” my voice is still far too weak for my liking, “I’m not leaving.”

Spencer scoffs, slamming the door shut, just barely grazing my shoulder as it passes me. “Yeah, well, I want you to.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Spencer’s jaw tightens and his hands ball into fists at his side. He’s trying to stand tall and strong in front of me but he’s starting to crack by the millisecond. His chest heaves when he tries to choke back his tears and his eyelids start to flutter. If I wasn’t sure of the situation before I stepped inside, it surely has been confirmed right now. Spencer opens his mouth to speak and his chin trembles. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“Absolutely not,” I step closer to him but he steps backward, not allowing me to diminish the distance between us. “Spencer, please. Let me help you.”

His head drops, his shoulders caving in. “I don’t need help,” With his eyes on his feet and no longer on me, I take the opportunity to grab his arm. He tries to jerk away from me the second my fingertips brush the fabric of his shirt but I told him as tightly as I can. He whimpers in my hold and his crack start to get wider and wider. “Olive, please.”

“Just let me see, Spence,” I’m already begging and I’m already crying. “Let me see. Let me help. I’m here for you.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head away from me, his first tears dripping down his cheeks. He stops trying to escape my hold and just cries, his clothes clutched in his hands. It’s not an invitation whatsoever but I take it as one, rolling up Spencer’s sleeve past his elbow. The crook of his elbow is covered in track marks, some fading and some bright red and bloody. It takes every ounce of my energy not to break down right then and there as my worst fear comes true. But Spencer breaks down when his biggest secret is revealed, his knees giving out and his body tumbling to the floor. I follow him down, cradling him in my arms as he sobs into my chest. I shush him and stroke his hair, rocking him back and forth, like a child, to calm him down.

“It’s okay, Spencer, shh,” I coo, my fingertips coated in sweat as I coax my fingers through his knotty locks. “Everything is gonna be okay, my love. I’m here and I’m gonna help you.”

“No.”

“Yes. Spencer, look at me,” I don’t give him the option of where to bring his gaze to. I grab his cheeks and force his gaze up, his eyes bloodshot and his face soaking wet. “You can’t keep doing drugs. You’ll lose everything, you know that. You’ll lose your job, you’ll lose me, you’ll lose your life, you’ll-”

“I’ll lose you?” He’s never sounded more like a child than he does now. He’s whimpering and whining and crying out and clinging to me as tight as he can.

I give the hardest answer yet and I feel my heart break in my chest. “Yes, Spencer, I’ll leave. I can’t-”

Spencer starts to scramble to his knees, legs wobbling under his weight. “You can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. I love you, Olive. Don’t leave.”

I know it’s the drugs talking but it doesn’t make the confession hurt any less. The confession is what I’ve waited so damn long to hear. But it’s wrong right now. Admitting my love will do nothing but hurt both of us. Spencer isn’t in a good state of mind right now. He probably won’t even remember that he hastily confessed his love while trying to convince me not to leave him. I find myself forcing down tears yet again.

“I won’t leave you if you get clean,” I brush back his hair again and this time, it slicks back with sweat. “You can’t keep living your life like this, shooting up in bathrooms and hiding from your friends. Get some help and get clean. I can’t sit back and watch you destroy your life, a life that you worked so damn hard to get.”

Spencer collapses under his own weight, no longer able to sit up on his knees. He falls onto all fours, his head hanging between his shoulders and his tears falling onto the carpet. “I can’t do it. It’s so painful to stop. I need it to be happy. I need it to escape.”

I smooth my hands over his shoulders and where other people would probably feel tensed up muscles, I feel relaxed muscles as Spencer melts into my embrace. “Then let me take you to the hospital. They can help make the detox less painful. They can give you medication and you can get counseling and I’ll be there for as long as I’m allowed to be.”

“No, none of that. Here. I wanna do it here.” Spencer lifts his head, sniffling and huffing through his tears. “I’ll do it alone. Please leave. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Absolutely not,” I rise to my feet and lean down to help Spencer to his feet, baring all of his weight on my shoulders as we trudge towards his bedroom. “I’m not leaving you like this. I’m gonna call Hotch and get time off for both of us.”

Spencer lets out his millionth whimper of the night when he falls onto the bed, immediately curling up on his side and squeezing his eyes shut. “Please. Go.”

I kneel beside the bed, bringing my hand to his cheek and stroking his soft skin gently. The simple motion actually seems to calm him for a millisecond before he starts to shake, clearly being hit with an onslaught of chills from his inevitable fever. So I tug the blanket over his body and tuck him in, pressing my lips to his forehead. “I’m not gonna abandon you, Spencer. I’m gonna help you through this and you’re gonna return to your happier, drug-free self. You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

I stayed true to my promise. I didn’t leave Spencer alone for a single second while he suffered through withdrawal. I washed his vomit and sweat-soaked sheets. I wiped his tears and held him when he cried. I dragged him from room to room when he didn’t have the energy to carry his own weight. I cooked him food on the rare occasions that he was actually hungry. I whispered sweet nothings in his ear when he needed the reassurance that someone actually cares. I located his stash of needles and excess vials and threw them in the dumpster outside, not even wanting to risk leaving them in a trashcan in the apartment. There is no doubt in my mind that Spencer wouldn’t have gotten through this without me. I was harsh with him when he begged for ‘just one more hit’ and I held him when he woke up screaming in the middle of the night. There is no doubt in my mind that Spencer would have given in to his cravings and started this mess all over again.

After two weeks, Spencer starts to get better. He is able to walk without assistance and he can eat two meals a day without throwing it up ten minutes later. It’s a relief and the sun finally starts to shine through the clouds that had been lingering for too long. He still needed at least another week off of work to work up his strength and catch up on sleep in order to not look like the living dead and Hotch starts to get suspicious of such an extended time off. I tell him not to ask and for some reason, he listens. Maybe he just knows and is glad that someone else dealt with Spencer at his lowest point. Yeah, that’s probably it.

After three weeks and a promising night where Spencer makes me dinner for the first time in weeks, we return to work. The team is happy to see us and they don’t question why we were both gone for so long. But I’m almost positive it’s the same reason that Hotch didn’t question the time off.

I made sure to visit Spencer in his hotel room and I always, somehow, made sure that he was never in a room alone. One night of being alone could make him spiral and that is the last thing he needs. So if he was in a room alone then I would sneak out of mine and sleep with him. It seemed like he started to enjoy sleeping in the same bed as me, opting to cuddle me close to his chest instead of turning his back to me. His confession always seemed to echo in my mind when he would kiss my head or squeeze my waist but it was just the drugs talking. He didn’t mean it.

One month clean and Spencer seemed to be doing amazing. He boasted about how he deleted his drug dealer’s number from his phone and how he would eat meals without me reminding him to and how he could be on his feet for more than twenty minutes without being winded and needing to sit. I don’t think I had ever felt so proud of a human being until I shoved all my pride onto Spencer. Sure, he didn’t necessarily want to get the help that I gave him, but he went along with it and it’s a joy to see him return to his old happy-go-lucky self.

But then the team gets called into a meeting. The phonecall wakes me up in the middle of the night and sends me rushing to get dressed in something other than pajamas, but I just wind up putting on new sweats. I rush out the door and to the vacant building, throwing my holster on my hip and riding the elevator up. I blurt out a load of apologies for y lateness as I stumble into the conference room and realize I’m the last two arrive.

“Aww,” Morgan coos sarcastically as I sit down beside him, “it was so nice if you to get dressed up for us!”

“I swear to god,” I hiss, but he knows I’m just teasing, “if you don’t shut up right now then I’ll-”

“Okay,” Hotch shuts me up far too easily, standing at the front of the table with his arms crossed, “we’re all here. Let’s start.”

“Is this a new case?” Emily wonders, eyes darting between Hotch and the table that is usually filled with case files.

“No,” he sighs and looks down at his feet, and this is probably the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him before. “Tonight-”

“Wait,” I sit up and glance around, suddenly alarmed, “We’re not all here. Spencer isn’t here.”

Hotch holds his hands up to me in his second way of telling me to shut up. “I know that. He already knows what I’m about to tell you all.” This does absolutely nothing to erase the red flags in my mind. “I know we all struggled with our last case, and Gideon struggled the most, for obvious reasons. Tonight, Spencer went to his cabin to check on him. It turns out that Gideon had left a note for Spencer to say goodbye and he has sent in his resignation. He has officially left the BAU.”

Okay, listen, I barely knew the man. I haven’t been on this team for too long and Gideon favored talking to Hotch and Spencer. He didn’t interact with me much at all, except to correct me, so I’m not too torn up about his departure. Yes, he just created a huge hole that needs to be filled but that’s not my main concern. Spencer is. He isn’t here and he just learned that the man who has been his father figure for years just abandoned him in the same way that his father did when he was a child. Nobody should be alone at a time like this, and Spencer especially shouldn’t.

JJ is the first to ask a question but I don’t even hear it. Hotch answers and Emily follows and then Penelope is squealing and Morgan shouts over everyone and it’s far too crazy. I just need to know that Spencer is okay. He is the only thing I care about. He made so much amazing progress and he absolutely can’t erase that.

“I need to go.” I blurt out suddenly, standing from the round table and rushing out of the building. I call Spencer relentlessly and get no answer. I go straight to voicemail every time. I slam on my gas pedal.

I don’t lock my car and I barely remember to close my door before I’m bounding up the stairs and to his apartment. I couldn’t care less about the other residents who are probably fast asleep by now. I bang on Spencer’s door, shouting his name once, twice, three times, and get nothing. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“Spencer! Come on, open up!” I cry out, jiggling the handle and hoping it’s unlocked. “Please! Let me in!” The energy radiating from the apartment makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I take two steps back and breathe in a deep breath, preparing me for whatever could be on the other side of this stupid door. I’ll never be ready to see what I know is waiting for me. I lift my foot up and slam it against the door, the lock snapping and allowing the door to fly open. I burst inside, shouting Spencer’s name frantically as my eyes search desperately for his adorable curls and his soft cardigans.

It takes me no more than thirty seconds of frantic running to find Spencer. When I do, I wish desperately that I hadn’t.

His body is slumped against the bathtub, head hanging backward and his mouth wide open. His shirt is off and a rubber band is still tied around his bicep. The bathroom wreaks of vomit and there’s a needle in the sink and a broken vial on the floor. He looks haunting similar to the crime scenes we observe every day.

I drop to my knees in front of him and grab onto his cheeks, lifting his head up. “Spencer?” My sobs are uncontrollable as my thumbs stroke his freezing cold skin, searching for some sort of life. “Come on, baby,” I resist the urge to shake his head in my hands. “Spence, please, wake up!”

I wait for another second. I get nothing. No eyelids fluttering. No sniffles. No coughing. No vomiting. No screaming. No crying. Nothing. There’s nothing left.

Working through my sobs, I reach into my backpack and fish out the little box I’m searching for. I set it aside momentarily and try to gather Spencer in my arms as best as I can, pushing and dragging him until he is laying on his back in the most comfortable way his lanky body will allow in the cramped bathroom. Gosh, if only Spencer was conscious. He would be freaking out about being on the bathroom floor.

I pull out the nasal spray and administer the Narcan into Spencer’s nostril, tossing it aside and then rolling Spencer onto his side. I don’t dare to tear my eyes away from him, even as I fish my phone out of my backpack and call 911. I babble on about there being a federal agent down and how I’m a federal agent who administered a dose of Narcan and how someone needs to help Spencer now but it all seems like a foreign language to me. Nothing is right anymore. The operator tells me someone will be there soon and to stay on the line, so I set my phone down and lean closer to Spencer.

“Spence?” I wait for a reaction. “Sweetheart, come on, don’t do this to me,” my tears fall onto the floor and create a puddle beside his hands. My trembling hand reaches out to push his hair back, admiring the way his locks curl around my fingers. I admire the way for eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks and how beautiful his lips look. I wish I kissed him when I had the chance. Now I might never get the chance to be with him. The thought makes me cry harder and I double over in agony, crying out for the love that I will never get to have and for the life I will never get to live. I should have told him I loved him when he said it first. How could I be so stupid?

I have no recollection of the paramedics arriving. Being pulled away, kicking and screaming Spencer’s name, is a complete blur of smeared lines and flashes of light. I do what I can to erase the image of Spencer being carried out on a stretcher, his rubberbanded arm dangling off the side, and into an ambulance. I clutch Spencer’s hand and shut out the words of the paramedics as the ambulance speeds to the hospital. I barely even recall being plopped in a waiting room and being told to await further instructions.

I slide down the wall and tuck my head between my knees, hoping that being bent over will minimize the volume of my cries. But it doesn’t and sobs take over my body, leaving me shaking and quivering. If Spencer were with me, he would hold my hand and quietly tell me how many germs are on this floor and statistics on how easy it is to catch and infection in a hospital. He would talk to distract me from the horrible situation going down. But he’s not here and I’m alone and there’s nothing I can do to help.

“Olive?” I ignore Hotch’s voice when I hear it. I pay no attention to his softer than usual tone and I don’t dignify his presence by acknowledging it. I keep my head down and clutched between my knees and try to quiet my cries. Hotch crouches down beside me and tells me how he was notified of the situation and how the team is on the way but I ignore him. He never cared about Spencer before so why should he now?

True to his word, the rest of the team has arrived at the hospital within ten minutes. They form a circle in front of me and bounce around questions about what happened. Is he alive? How much did he take? What did he take? Where is he now? They never address me directly and just keep shooting questions around and receive no answers. It’s exhausting to listen to. I’m exhausted.

“Hey, Olive?” Penelope crunches next to me in the same way Hotch did, placing her hand on my shoulder. I shake it off. She pauses before speaking again. “Could you tell us what happened?”

For the first time, I lift my head. Everyone is in their pajamas and looking just a little less distressed than me. I’m sure I look horrendous. I surely feel horrendous. I’ve never felt worse in my life. I’ve never loved a person so much just to have them ripped out of my life. If Spencer doesn’t recover from this, I know I never will.

“He,” I lift my hands to wipe my cheeks but stop mid-air, wondering just how many germs are on my skin, “overdosed. To my knowledge, he’s been clean for a month and-and-” my lips quiver again, “I guess Gideon leaving was too much for him to handle. He thought he needed drugs to make him feel better.”

JJ leans into Emily’s side, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why didn’t he just call one of us instead of going straight to drugs? We all would have dropped what we were doing and gone to help him.”

The absolutely idiotic statement sets me on fire. I clamber to my feet, sadness replaced with anger within a millisecond. “Really? Would you have?”

JJ furrows her eyebrows and looks to the team for more support. “Of course. Spencer is one of my best friends.”

“We all would have helped him,” Morgan adds.

“Oh, really?” I sneer at them. “Were you there to help him last month when he was detoxing? Did any of you come to see why Spencer and I took three weeks off from work without warning? No! None of you texted or called or visited like real friends do. Did you even care that he obviously had a drug problem? Did any of you notice?”

Emily scoffs at the accusation, her anger starting to rise to mine. “Of course we did! I even asked him about it once and-”

“Once!” I let out the most sarcastic laugh that has ever dripped from my lips. Sleeping patients be damned, I will let out my anger at these inferior ‘friends’ and tell them the truth they need to hear. “You asked him once? Well, I spent three weeks living at his apartment, cooking, cleaning, holding him, reassuring him that he would be okay. And all you did was ask him about it once?” The realization is starting to set in on their faces that maybe this issue is bigger than they thought. “He needed real help and support from his friends, and yeah, he had me but he would have done a lot better if he had all of his closest friends supporting him.” They all fall silent, as they should. They stare at me and each other and everyone cries over their friend who they should have helped.

“Olive,” Hotch murmurs, “when you gave him the Narcan, did he wake up?”

This prompts more tears. “No.”

“Spencer Reid?”

I whip around as fast as I can at the sound of a doctor approaching, leaving the team in the dust to approach him. “Hi, yeah, I’m here for Spencer Reid. I’m his emergency contact.”

The doctor smiles at me and he waves me along, leading me away from the blabbering BAU and towards a room. “So,” the doctor says, “he’s extremely lucky. You administered the Narcan just in time. A few more minutes and Mr. Reid probably wouldn’t have made it.” I barely pay attention to the looming fear of Spencer’s death. If I hadn’t gone running out of the team meeting, Spencer would have died. “We’ve given him the proper medication, he’s in this room, and he should be waking up soon. When he’s feeling better, we can talk about proper treatment and recovery for Mr. Reid.”

I thought that maybe I cried all the tears my body could handle but that is proven wrong. He’s going to be okay. Going through detox again will be hell but now he can get professional help. He’s going to be okay.

I step into Spencer’s room. The sight of him lying in the bed is reminiscent of him lying on the bathroom floor and it makes my head pounds and my heart break. His elbow is bandaged up so his track marks are hidden and his hair is a matted down mess. But even lying there, helpless and in pain, he still looks like the man I fell in love with. The man who learned to braid hair and actually drove a car a few times and went shopping with me just to make me happy. He’s a shell of the man I love but he’s there and I know we will meet again soon.

Spencer starts to stir a moment later, tossing his head side to side gently. I creep over and slide my hand in his, squeezing softly. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet but there are tears streaming down his cheeks, soaking the top hem of his hospital gown. His hand tightens around mine and suddenly, my cheeks match his.

“Hi, sweetheart,” I breathe out, bringing our hands up to my lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “you’re okay. Everything is gonna be okay.”

Spencer lets out a high pitched moan, his head rolling over to face me. “I’m sorry,” he slurs out. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t mean it, Spence. I’m not mad. Just relax. I’ll be right here,” without letting go of his hand, I reach over and push a chair against the side of the bed. “Get some rest.”

“You won’t leave me?”

“No, Spence. I’m never gonna leave you.”

#nikos writing #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x oc

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not-freyja · 5 years

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2019 T’hy’la Fics of the Year

According to Kudos on Ao3. In the Interest of fairness, winners of previous years were excluded.

1. And Then I Let It Go by kianspo

Post-Star Trek Beyond. The crew of the Enterprise gets a breather while they are waiting for their new ship. Jim uses the time to do something he had sworn he would never do.

2. Vulcans are Fangirls Too by jouissant

Kirk is a secret astrophysics genius who publishes under a pseudonym; Spock sends him fanmail. Shenanigans ensue.

Less fluffy than the title might imply, but a feel-good story nonetheless.

3. This Is How You Remind Me by kianspo

Jim invites Spock to his high school reunion for moral support.

4. Take This Sinking Boat (And Point It Home) by sinestrated

In which Spock pines, Jim isn’t stupid (except he kind of is), and Christopher Pike has had enough of this bullshit.

5. Something Smart to Do by kianspo

In which Jim finds himself fake-married to his first officer every other month. It's not his fault. Mostly. Dowries and Klingons are involved. Starfleet is decidedly not amused.

6. cast out fear by s0mmerspr0ssen

Kirk saves Vulcan from Nero at high cost to himself. It falls to Spock to pick up the pieces.

7. The Lotus Eaters by aldora89

Stranded on the planet Sigma Nox while searching for a missing away team, Spock and Kirk find themselves pitted against a disturbing native life form. With the captain out of commission on a regular basis and Spock struggling to preserve his stoicism, staying alive is difficult enough – but when a slim chance for escape surfaces, their resolve is truly put to the test. Together they must fight for survival in the heart of an alien jungle, and in the process, uncover the mystery of the planet’s past.

8. The Handmaid of Genius by ladyblahblah

When the replicators go offline, Jim reacts unexpectedly.

9. Asymptote by tahariel

Anticipation was not an emotion Spock had intended to allow himself to feel; yet, it made itself known despite him, and that it was never satisfied made it harder to suppress, each time the Captain walked past or stood near and conscientiously avoided even the brush of their sleeves.

10. AT THE SAME STARS by spicyshimmy

First Officer Spock of the USS Enterprise is part of the away team that discovers the survivors of Tarsus IV. Captain Pike assigns him to the curious case of James Tiberius Kirk, who steals one of Spock's sweaters. There were no sufficient Vulcan poetics to describe the emptiness of the colony as it was found on the morning of stardate 2249.43. The fully-completed residential sector was neither ugly nor beautiful but simply remote; a hollow landscape of metal alloys and sensible architecture, with determined vegetation growing alongside the support beams. They did not flower.

11. Measure of Happiness by writeonclara

When Spock chose Starfleet over the Vulcan Science Academy, he had not anticipated cohabiting with the most illogical, irrational, emotional human he ever met.

On the flip side, Jim never asked for a Vulcan chaperone, especially one as snotty as Spock, son of Sarek.

A Starfleet Academy AU in which Spock adapts to human life, Jim learns very, very quickly never to play a prank on a Vulcan, and there are far too many people after Jim Kirk's life.

12. Hurricane by sinestrated

Five times Winona Kirk was a badass mom, and one time she realized she’d raised an equally badass son.

13. The Third Wheel by littlebirdtold

Academy AU. In which Cadet Kirk constantly crashes Cadet Uhura's dates with Commander Spock and monopolizes his attention.

14. A Logical Match by walkandtalk

The elders of New Vulcan decide to resurrect an ancient custom, and suddenly Jim must help find his First Officer an honorable Vulcan husband.

15. You Lied by ksalterego

Spock bought into that whole stupid Vulcan practice of being secretive about shit (sexual practices) that had the potential to fucking kill him. So Kirk may have lied - well, implied, actually - to get into Spock's pants save Spock's life.

16. So Much for Gravity by Regann

The last thing Jim wants is telepathic proof that Spock hates him, even though that's exactly what he gets. It's just one more thing Jim needs to figure out on his bumpy road to a destiny he doesn't even know if he believes in.

17. not once but always by estelares

The Day Jim Kirk Died And Was Revived is also, perhaps more famously, remembered as The Day Spock Lost His Proverbial Marbles and nearly killed a superhuman who had fucking regenerative blood, for crying out loud.

18. My Golden Sun / Kin-Kur Las’hark T’nash-Veh by giddytf2

When Jim feels the first gush of slick soaking down the inner seam of his pants, he shuts his eyes and turns his face away from Spock towards the mottled-stone wall of their solitary cell. Spock is staring at him. Spock has no idea what's just happened, what's just begun. Spock has no idea that their situation is about to get so much worse.

Fuck, Jim thinks, curling up into a ball of bruises and ragged gold, his arms quivering and clutching his bent legs. Fuck my life for being a goddamn Omega.

(Or, a Star Trek: AOS story post-Into Darkness in a universe where both Alpha/Beta/Omega gender dynamics and pon'farr exist, with Jim being an Omega going into heat and Spock experiencing his first pon'farr while trapped in a cell with Jim. Oh my.

19. THE SUM OF BOTH OF US by spicyshimmy

Jim Kirk is nine when a massacre on Tarsus IV leaves him without a family and without a home. Spock is twelve when a strange boy in the desert saves his sehlat. Families aren't born; they're made. The look in mother’s eyes at his correction remained a mystery long after the colors of the night sky and the complex patterns of distant nebulae had become translatable by means of distinct and relatively straightforward equations.

20. Leave No Soul Behind by whochick

If you're Starfleet, you spend your whole life wishing you never see an EPAS uniform right up until the moment they become your only hope. Whether you're dying a slow, cold death in space, or a long painful one on some godforsaken planet, they're going to come for you. So count your last breaths, son, and hold on tight. They leave no soul behind.

#fic rec #top 20 #t'hy'la #spirk #spirk fic #space husbands

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curly-bangtan · 5 years

Text

A Drop of Heaven III: Broken Skin (M)

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Yoongi x reader, Seokjin x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: blood drinking, soft!Seokjin, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts (gets a little dark), graphic violence, Yoongi being abusive and sadistic, dom!Yoongi, rough unprotected sex, BDSM I guess?, spanking, biting, choking, hair pulling, feeding during sex, degradation, ass job, hate sex, own cum consumption

Word count: 11.4k

A/N: I do not condone Yoongi’s behaviour at all, it is horrible and not intended to be romanticised!! He is obviously a vampire so violence is a habit built from centuries, but it’s also still not okay. And everything that happens is consensual. I’m honestly so scared that this is too much but I might just be overreacting. I hope you like this update because there were parts that were so difficult for me to write. :(

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

Kissing Seokjin feels like sinking into a cloud after plummeting from the heavens, soft, cold, delicate. You don’t think you’d truly realised how plump his lips are until they are on yours, catching your every breath. You sense his initial shock, feel the fumes of confusion swirling in his chest. Because still, you haven’t stopped feeling, just feeling, him.

His body is tense at first, unmoving. Yet his lips contradict its language by slowly moving around yours, the motion so natural, so fluid, that it doesn’t feel like the first time you’re kissing.

Despite the coolness of his skin, all you feel is a warmth enshrouding your every sense, but mostly your heart. The sire bond doesn’t stop forming, building brick by brick between your souls like a bridge crossing the vast ocean. You see him on the other side, so far, yet so clearly. You’re walking towards each other, no, maybe even running. Full speed.

And then you collide.

And coalesce into one entity.

You don’t register it until your leg has swung around him and he has pulled you onto his lap, hands so gentle that you wonder if you’re imagining his touch. There isn’t a single thought in your brain right now, just a humming, faint colours swimming.

Every single movement is slow, heavy, as if you’re underwater and a pressure is resisting you, but pleasantly so because it makes every movement feel more impactful. Your eyes flicker open just a moment to confirm that this isn’t a dream, and you’re met with such dazzling beauty that makes you question your reality more.

This doesn’t feel real.

Yet at the same time, you’ve never felt anything more real.

Especially as your hands travel to his face, cupping his smooth cheeks, fingers gripping onto him so not to get washed away by the current. Every time you touch, you melt into him.

Not to mention all his sensations overwhelming yours, the way you feel his turmoil at his own conflicting emotions for you. How he cares deeply for you already, wishing just to be close to you in any shape or form because he craves the humanness of love. Yet also how he knows that love, be it platonic or romantic, has long since been vetoed as an option in his life, and given your dynamic, will never not crumble.

Seokjin shudders under your caress, as if he also cannot believe this is true. His hands sliding up your legs on their own accord, not greedily, but not of innocence either.

Then he’s guiding you onto your back and up the bed until your head meets the plush of your pillow, tongue rolling over yours like evening waves. Neither of you think to stop, take a breath, assess the situation. Because the bond between you doesn’t allow you to do anything except be together.

But when his fingers reach up your top, he freezes. Rather than your skin that he was expecting, is the rough lace of the bodysuit you are wearing.

You had both forgotten about that amidst all this. And suddenly, the few minutes before where he had entered the room to the sight of you trying on this raunchy undergarment feels like an eon ago.

His eyes lock onto yours, fingers stroking the patterned material as he softly asks, “Can I?”

“Yes,” you sigh into him, “please.”

Heartbeat unsteady but strong, you feel your whole body tremble under him as he smoothly slides your cotton joggers down to reveal your bare thighs. And when you pull your sweatshirt over your head too, Seokjin thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.

His insides feel warm from the feeding of your blood, but his groin feels even warmer. He doesn’t think he has ever experienced such a strong physical desire for any of his Feeds in the past. Never anything so potent, compelling. He feels as though he is flotsam, swept away by the ocean into the depths of you.

You look up at him, eyes wide with a confounding innocence that you somehow have maintained throughout the affliction you’ve endured. The thin white material of the lingerie hugs your body so dearly, the floral lace like grapevines across your torso and up to your breasts. The sheer mesh does little to hide the colouration of your nipples. Seokjin feels his bulge growing painfully.

Your hand droops down his front, an action of harmless intent, yet sets fire to his gut. He falls back into you, mouth finding yours as his fingers dart up your legs, marvelling at your soft spotless skin, the same skin that used to be painted with scars and bruises and cuts that dig deeper than flesh, but have miraculously been wiped clean. It had felt like a rebirth.

It is evident from his hesitant touch how nervous he is, his throat quivering. It has been so long since he has remotely felt so alive; it moves him beyond his comprehension.

And it is as if you can sense that he wants you to do so, you break the kiss to flip him around so you are straddling him once again. From the way you sat over his crotch, dressed like a doll in white, Seokjin knows that he’ll come undone under you.

Rather than sealing his lips again, you just watch him for a moment, chest rising from the fervour. Your thumb traces his forehead down to his chin, then brush the corner of his mouth. His eyes fall shut, quaking under your touch, trying to calm the storm in his mind.

Then it darts down his chest like a little mouse to palm his arousal over his slacks. Seokjin gasps, a sound that you enjoy too much. He feels hefty in your hands, already, throbbing at the friction you rub. Your core is blazing at his reaction, his whimpers.

But then, in a flash, he sits up and holds up a finger for you to stop, eyes that are trained on the door shifting immediately. “Wait here.” is all he says before he zooms out from beneath you and through the door that joins your room to his.

You don’t even have time to register that he’s gone until you’re plopped onto the mattress, alone.

What?

Sense is slowly starting to ebb back into you. Had you done something wrong? Wait, well of course, you hadn’t even asked his permission to kiss him. But that doesn’t explain why he had asked you to wait before leaving so hurriedly. This scene reminds you of…

And lo and behold, as you creep up to the door to his room, you hear someone knock. Your attention quickly turns to the second door that opens to the hallway, but you realise that the sound was too muffled for it to be coming from there. No, someone knocked on Seokjin’s bedroom door.

Ears straining to listen as you press the side of your face against the wood, you hear powerful steps enter the room.

“Good night. What can I help you with? Why do you look so troubled, Namjoon?” Although the words are barely audible, his name rings sonically into you. A strange yet familiar rope tugs on your soul.

You think you hear him sigh, and you can imagine exactly the frustrated frown he must be plagued with. “I… I don’t even know how to begin to talk about it, hyung. You know what I’m like… with words…”

“Yes, of course.” It could be your imagination but there is still the smallest hitch to Seokjin’s breath, yet to his credit, he is hiding it well. “Your debility in expressing your true feelings is second to Yoongi. What’s the matter?”

“Have you felt it yet?”

A pause.

“Felt what?”

“The bond.” Namjoon’s voice is a husky rasp.

You tense because it almost sounds as though it pains him. Unconsciously, your hand grips at your chest, the memory of its violent cinching when your soul was first tethered to his haunting you.

“Th- Why…?” Seokjin sounds as though he’s been asked a deeply personal question. You suppose it is.

“Hell, it’s so- so intense this time. In our centuries, I don’t think any Feed bond has ever been this powerful. When I fed on her yesterday, it felt like we were physically bound together, like the Gods tied us together and I couldn’t walk away from her no matter how much I struggled. I didn’t feel myself, I felt so… human.”

Your blood freezes. You hadn’t known, or even considered, how the sire bond must have felt for him. Do vampires feel everything more heightened due to their superior senses? Or less because they have been numbed over time? That bond with Namjoon felt vastly different from Seokjin. It’s true what he said, it was like your souls were bound by rope. Supernaturally unbreakable rope. And though the initial impact has eventually worn off, everytime your mind lingered a second too long in the thoughts of him, you felt its reminder tugging at your core again.

“I…” Seokjin seems slightly dumbfounded. Whether it’s because he finds himself relating so much to that feeling, or because he’s surprised it had been that strong for his brother too. “Maybe it’s because we haven’t tasted angel blood in too long; it has always driven us a little wild in the past, this time only exacerbated by how much we’ve missed it.”

“Possibly… But, I mean, I really wasn’t myself. I k- I lost control. I felt things, emotions that I can’t make sense of. I can’t even begin to describe them to you.”

“You mean, you felt affection for the girl?”

Silence. You hear your own heartbeat.

Affection?

There was a longing in the way Namjoon had kissed you, like all the anger and frustration you had riled up in him had somehow melted into a flood of desire. And you, yourself. Something had felt warm, pleasant, in your core. You hadn’t wanted him to stop, not even an inkling.

Such contrast to the spiteful words you had been throwing at each other only a minute before he fed on you.

It’s definitely the bond.

“Affect- No- Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you say that?” Namjoon splutters. You can imagine his cheeks staining in colour.

“Namjoon. I know you like to distance yourself from your Feeds, maintain a dynamic in which you always view them as your prey. But you are allowed to grow fond of her. It’s happened to us all before.” There’s a resignation in Seokjin’s tone, like this is a conversation that has been had many times before.

“I’m not growing fond of her! It’s the bond, it’s overriding my sense.”

“Namjoon-ah.” He sighs, exasperation crisp in his muffled voice. “Yes, it is all very much the effects of the sire bond. But you know that the bond manifests in such that reflects on the vampire right? Its shape and form, its intensity, its hold over you. It tells you more about yourself than you’re willing to admit.”

You perk up straight. You don’t think you want to continue listening. You don’t think you want to face the knowledge of what this magic means; it would elicit too many unwanted thoughts, confusion, dilemmas. You don’t want it. You don’t want to think about the deeper reflection of Namjoon’s feelings, and yours too.

So, stealthily, you sneak back onto the bed in your best efforts not to make a sound that would announce your eavesdropping to the vampires next door.

Sat near the edge of the bed, you stare at your wrist, at the fresh wounds that Seokjin’s fang had punctured. It’s starting to hurt now, as you stray away from the state of euphoria that came with the settling of the bond between you. You hadn’t noticed before when you were kissing him, but your hand is slathered with dried crusted blood.

You pick at it. Even licking it to see if your blood truly tastes that divine. It tastes metallic all the same.

Don’t think about the magic. Don’t think about Namjoon. Don’t even think about Seokjin. Just stop thinking for a second. Stop questioning. Stop wondering. Stop before you go crazy.

Thus you sit there blankly until Seokjin finally raps softly at the door after his conversation.

“Come in.” You remember you don’t need to speak up for him to hear you - he’s got vampire hearing.

Visible bother is worn on his expression as he enters. He gazes at you differently now. And once again, it’s like you’ve both awoken from a trance. No longer leaping into each other. The realisation sits bitterly in your stomach.

It wasn’t real, was it?

“Let me heal you first.” It’s the gentleness in his voice that make you sad.

And so you obediently lap up the rich scarlet liquid oozing out of his own wrist. You try to ignore how its taste threatens to tip you over and fall back into him again. You try to ignore that warm embrace you feel around your heart.

Is any of it real?

Soon, the two holes disappear along with the growing sting of your raw flesh. As good as new.

You refuse to look at each other at first, as you put on your clothes to conceal your suddenly very self conscious body and he fiddles with the embroidered collar of his shirt. This isn’t regret, but there might possibly a drop of shame, at what you had been doing.

“Um… That was Namjoon…” Whether or not he knows that you were eavesdropping, he doesn’t show.

“Oh.” You simply utter.

The tension is a tangible thing between you. The residual buzz from the bond is still present, tingling under your skins. If you focus hard enough, you can just about hear whispers of his emotions, but only barely.

After a silence that pains you both to be a part of, Seokjin clears his throat. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of the kind of person I am. I’m not usually… The sire bond that fixes between a vampire and an angel has never been very well understood in my time no matter the research I’ve done. It’s guarded not only by witch magic and demonic powers, but also celestial strength of the heavens. It… warps the mind and senses.”

It’s a factual statement, yet you feel many underlying implications. It warps the mind and senses. As in what you did wasn’t really of your own wills, is that what he means? It stings, because it had felt so real. It was real. For you anyway.

“But…”

He realises your interpretation, and his eyes soften. “It’s complicated, the paradox of reality. I don’t wish to offend you in any way. I… care about you. I don’t wish to confuse you. So, it’s best if… it doesn’t happen again. For our own sake.”

He’s right, you know. But it feels bitter. Because just as you begin to taste a sweet thing in your mouth, just as you feel yourself healing through a person, it all just vaporises. But there’s no way of knowing if that was all just a trick of the mind anyway.

Or maybe Seokjin’s withdrawal is because of Namjoon. There’s too much confusion, muddle of emotions and incomprehensible feelings. And the more you try to wrap your head around his words that you overheard, the more you find yourself falling into a vortex of unknown.

It’s best not to start down an uncertain path, than realising too late that you’re falling off a cliff’s edge.

You had hope in Seokjin, that you could be close, because he holds that normalcy that you crave amidst this chaos. Could you still be friends? From the way you’re avoiding each other’s eye, you’re not sure.

“I understand.” You stare at a fleck of blood on your hand.

You’re staring at your pristine, spotless hands, folded around each other atop your lap. Sitting in the middle of the mattress’ end.

Waiting. Trembling.

It’s Wednesday.

The very day you’ve dreaded the most since learning about the vampire who you’ll be sired to today. The vampire who will enjoy inflicting pain onto you. The vampire who hasn’t a single drop of empathy left in him.

Yoongi.

You’re not unaccustomed to men with power complexes who like to seek validation from harming those weaker than he is. So you’re not sure why you’re scared right now. You should be immune to such fears at this point, but you guess it’s the little human instinct left in you that’s invoking it.

Your life hadn’t always been a saga of continuous abuse; you were a normal teenager once, with a loving family, many friends, a regular content life. But one stroke of bad luck, one tragedy, and your cloudless blue sky was ripped apart. It was a stormy Friday night, you suppose that was your first foreboding from the gods. You had begrudgingly agreed to stay in because your parents were adamant that you shouldn’t go to that Minho’s party again after they heard that he dealt weed to everyone. Still, you had snuck out with the help of your then boyfriend without a single ounce of guilt and scurried off together to Minho’s. Your parents didn’t usually check up on you, so when you had received a furious phone call from your father a little past midnight, you were shocked. Oh fuck, you remember thinking, accompanied by that distinctly horrid heart-sinking feeling.

There wasn’t much you could say to persuade them not to come pick you up right that instant, even as you begged them with tears of humiliation as your peers looked at you in pity, you knew their mind was set. And though it wasn’t very justified at all, you had felt a surge of anger towards them. Resentment.

You had slammed the car door particularly hard when you entered the vehicle, your boyfriend’s worried expression in the corner of your eye as you couldn’t bare looking at him. “Y/N. You lied to us.” You stayed silent. “We asked one thing from you, and that was to stay away from Minho, and you couldn’t do that.” “Minho is my friend!” “Minho is a bad influence!” “I don’t even smoke weed! Have you ever seen me high? No. Do I smell like weed right now? No. Why do you want to control me so badly?” “We weren’t banning you from all parties, it was just this one party. And you couldn’t do that for us.” The disappointment in their calm voices riled you up even more. “And why not? Why can’t I go to this one party if I wanted to? Everyone went to this party tonight, everyone. Did any of their parents stop them? No. Because none of them are as controlling as you!” “Because none of them know about the weed!” “Oh next thing I know, you’ll be saying that my boyfriend is a bad influence too and that I can’t date him anymore.” “You know what, that’s true.” “Oh, For God’s sake! you guys are so annoying. Why do you have to be like this?”

Every time you think back to that argument you had in the car, your nails dig into your fists. If only you had just shut up. If only you had just accepted that you were in the wrong. It was just one party, one stupid fucking party, that means so little in the grand scheme of your life.

“Y/N, mind the way you’re speaking to your parents.”

It had started pouring down heavily on the drive back home. You couldn’t even look out the window because everything was a rain-blurred mosaic. The windshield wipers were wiping vigorously, that unbearably annoying sound now forever etched in your mind in this memory.

“I can speak however I want to.” You watched the digital clock on the screen of the car switch to 01:01. “You guys are the worst parents in the world. I wish I wasn’t your daughter. I wish-”

In movies, car crashes happen in slow motion; the audience sees the shock register in the driver’s face, then watch the whole vehicle flip in 0.5x speed. In real life, all you feel is a violent collision, a loud ringing, a flash of light, all in a split second. Then everything is black.

01:01.

You had still been staring at the time. It was the last thing you saw before your world was torn into shreds.

You had barely made it, by the miracle, or perhaps more accurately punishment of God. You were unconscious for 72 hours after the crash; you parents were unconscious forever. They gave it a day before they broke the news to you.

You had cried until you fainted again and woke up another 20 hours later.

It took months for your injuries to heal, during which you had all day and night to replay that last scene in the car over and over again in your head. Those words you said to them before they died.

Your elderly grandmother who was living with you and your 2-month old sister at the time took the burden of the family. She hadn’t scolded you, blamed you, nor resented you. She just came to the hospital every day with warm porridge and soup and your sister carried on her crooked back, smiled at you and told you to keep fighting.

You didn’t have many relatives; your father was estranged from his family, while your mother only had your grandmother and your uncle. Your uncle was a kind, supportive figure once. But you could tell he didn’t see you the same way after the accident everyone knew you’d caused. You didn’t blame him, you hated yourself too. Still, he moved in to help your elderly grandmother; babies are a lot to handle after all, especially for those who can’t even walk up the stairs without wincing. Your uncle became the breadwinner of the family, working hard every day to pay for your medical bills. You had admired him once, had been so tremendously grateful.

But then your grandmother died.

Heart attack due to stress, fatigue and exhaustion. It was the day before you were set to be released from the hospital.

Everything fell apart. It was like a switch was flipped because all of a sudden there was hatred in your uncle’s eyes every time you saw him look at you, something that burned so deep that it didn’t feel human. It was a demonic sort of evil that emitted from his gaze. Alcohol was his remedy for his sorrows, you were his relief.

The first time he hit you felt like you deserved it. The second time, maybe fair enough. But by the fiftieth time, it felt like it had evolved into something of a habit. It became a spiral of abuse, he became less and less human, more and more a senseless drunk monster. There was a basement where you were locked in as he insisted it was the only way to keep you from causing another tragedy in his life; you weren’t permitted to leave the house, you couldn’t and it wasn’t to do with a lack of trying. Sometimes you were fed and watered, if he was in a good mood. Sometimes your face was burned on the stove if you tried to dispute.

And for a while, you’d found some sort of excuse, justification for him. You killed your parents, his sister. You killed his mother. They had all died in consequence of one bad, selfish decision you’d made. But as the abuse worsened, it became more apparent that he enjoyed watching you bleed, he enjoyed painting your skin with bruises and burns and cuts. In a sick twisted perversion. None of it should be excused or justified.

Your sister grew up in a house of violence, watching your torment in her big round eyes, not uttering a peep. On her second birthday, you had given her a stuffed bear that you found in the basement. She smiled so widely and hugged it so tight to her chest. And you remembered why you were staying alive.

Escape was never an option - your leg, broken from the accident, was never allowed to heal properly before it became your uncle’s favourite batting post. Suicide - you’d thought about for a very very long time, every morning, every night, every waking breath. But if you were to kill yourself, you would have had to kill your sister too. And you couldn’t, you just couldn’t. One evening, while she was asleep, you had held a pillow over her head, centimeters away from suffocating her. But then your uncontrollable sobs woke her up, and she asked in her small innocent voice, “What are you doing? Why are you crying? Did he hurt you again?”

You couldn’t do it.

And so you endured years of being a prisoner of a mad man. Waiting for your deaths. Physical pain became tolerable when you learnt to shut off your mind, transport your consciousness to elsewhere. If you didn’t think about how he was kicking your head, you wouldn’t notice your skull cracking open.

It was only when your uncle realised your attachment to your sister that he found a way to hurt you. That, you couldn’t be immune to.

Growing footsteps at the door rouse you from your deep thought. You feel a dampness in your cheek and you hurry to wipe it away. The footsteps are slow, light, almost a drag.

He’s coming.

Deep breaths. Just remember: state of inertia. Pain is an illusion, a choice. You don’t have to feel it if you don’t want to.

The door opens softly. Inhale. He pads in, black hair a ruffled mess. Exhale. His eyes land on you, sat tensely on the bed of his Feed room, awaiting him. Inhale. He walks closer, each step absolutely soundless. Exhale.

When he arrives in front of you, you scan his face: paper-white skin, droopy eyes heavy from sleep- But wait. His eyes are already shifted; they don’t contain a grain of white.

Just a pitch dark ocean.

His touch is ice when he tilts your head to the side as he slumps onto the bed beside you. Without a single word, he yanks your neck to him and bites into you.

To you credit, you don’t cry out. Eyes clamped shut, you try to focus your attention elsewhere. Don’t mind his rough fingers around your throat. Don’t mind the excruciating pain that feels like a saw digging into your neck. Don’t mind the gush of blood surging out, droplets flying from the pressure. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt.

Pain is fake. Pain is an illusion. Pain is a neurological response. Pain is fear. Pain is a choice.

Think about something else.

You recall the conversation you had with Seokjin early this morning before you went to sleep, after he had tried to resume a normal dynamic between you, and brush what had happened under the rug. He had told you about the origin of the seven vampires.

Yes, think of that.

“It was over two millennia ago, when the Roman empire began to dominate the word’s seven seas and cruel dictators lead our people. We were seven brothers, sons of a rich influential man, fortunately born into a wealthy family that was favoured by our ruler. We were never particularly close to begin with as siblings, each of us absorbed into our lives. Namjoon was a fine public speaker, a clear born-leader, an intellectual, favoured by our father who had high hopes for him. I was a literature student, and despite being the eldest, politics was very evidently not my set path; I had always been more of an advisor. Yoongi had always been an odd, quiet one, but an extremely talented musician. My father didn’t particularly approve of the arts, yet we had so much fortune that he didn’t need all his sons to work. Hoseok was wild, popular amongst the people, held the best most-renowned dinner parties with endless entertainment such as dancers, drinking games and one time even an elephant he’d bought from Africa. Jimin was a hopeless romantic, a lover not a fighter, chasing lady after lady, promising that he was foolish last time, but this time he knows that she is the one. Taehyung loved art, an extraordinary painter and sculptor, even helped us design our new house once. Though he tended to spend too much time with men and women at inns and left a trail of broken hearts after him. Our youngest, Jungkook, was an Olympic athlete; anyone who competed with him accepted their defeat. He was the long-reigning champion, the pride of our family.

“Life was incredible for us seven, perhaps too incredible. Because soon, we realised that we didn’t want to stop living. Namjoon in particular was so magnetised by the idea of immortality, it became his mission, his obsession. This only worsened after the death of our father, as it made us realise that death is inevitable, even for the greatest. But to Namjoon, it was incredibly unfair. Why must the greatest die? The greatest deserve to live and rule for an eternity. That only made sense.

“There were rumours from ear to ear that the Olympian Gods worshipped by all were living among us, hiding. Pluto, or more commonly known as Hades, was said to hold the key to immortality. He was the God of Death after all, if you managed to find him and prove your excellence and worthiness, he shall grant you eternal life, youth and health. Of course, we were all entranced by such possibility. Though, whereas we saw it as folklore, Namjoon saw it as a goal.

“It was four years of seeking, four years of endless obsession, four years of dead ends. But he alas found something - a rumoured family of witches, descendants of Pluto according to the people from their village. They were outcasts for their strange ways and the weird happenings around them. It was said to best leave them alone, lest you wish for malfortune upon your kin. Namjoon paid the warnings no heed, had our slaves cease them from their home and brought to ours.

“At this point, Namjoon’s sanity was toppling. This family was tortured for answers, whipped like slaves for answers and cooperation. And when they continued to refuse, Namjoon had the husband slain, and threatened to kill the two children as well. The female witch who remained finally gave in and agreed to perform a spell of immortality for us.

“Witch magic is a complex matter, even for us now. We discovered that a witch’s promise is irrevocable, magic irreversible, so Namjoon was careful with his demands. He asked for immortality, eternal health, youth and beauty, which had been our original wishes, but he grew greedy and also asked for superhuman abilities such as speed, strength, stealth, healing, heightened senses and much more.

“To our surprise, the witch complied and promised to grant us these things. She concocted a spell which put us into a hibernation of seven days, and sure enough, when we awoke, we were different. We could run at lightning speed, lift boulders, jump the heights of arenas. We could fight lions and bears, and we would win. And so the witch was released with her children, never to be seen again.

“However, as the days passed, more and more began to shift. The taste of food grew bland in our mouth, light from sun grew increasingly blinding and sensitive to our skin, and the canines of our teeth felt like they were remoulding… Then came the unquenchable thirst. For blood.

“One night, Yoongi and Hoseok had gotten in a fight at an inn with some travellers. At the scent of fresh blood, they turned from angry men to black-eyed demons in a split second, ripping into the throats of every single person with a pulse. They had killed nearly a hundred people that night, in the span of an hour. Namjoon masked the incident as a bear attack. But then the same ill fate fell upon us all - a sudden loss of control, then an unstoppable feeding until our hunger is satisfied. It became too much to cover up. And soon, for some reason, the sun began to burn our skin.

“It became apparent that, though the witch did grant our wishes without fail, she had also bestowed a curse upon us. For the rest of our immortal lives, we would never be able to step foot in the sun again, and will be plagued with a monstrous thirst for blood. That was our punishment for our greed and cruelty.”

Yoongi finally releases your neck, carelessly ripping his fangs through your flesh and tendons. You fall lifelessly onto your back, head faint and spinning frantically.

You made it through. You hadn’t felt a thing. You managed to block it out.

But now, a searing agony overtakes your senses, so concentrated on your neck that you think you’re going to lose consciousness. Your vision is dark and blotchy as you stare at the ceiling, unmoving.

Is he going to heal you? Or is he going to watch you suffer first?

You lay there, trying to muster some understanding for the vampire who had just tore through your neck and drained what feels like half your body fluids. He hadn’t asked to be a vampire, he is a product of his brother’s greed, which he has to live with eternally.

But that doesn’t give him any reason to be this cold, this heartless.

Blood is pouring out of your wound incessantly, like a perpetual waterfall onto the bedding. You think you’re going to die. But it’s not the first time you’ve thought you’re going to die only to be disappointed, so you don’t have high hopes this time.

And sure enough, as your eyes begin to fall and breathing shallow, a wet warmth is pressed onto your lips. You refuse to open your mouth and be brought back to life, but calloused fingers force your jaw open and the potion flows into you once more.

You hate how good it tastes, how your body knows that this is what heals you. But something tastes different about Yoongi’s blood - there’s a zingy bitter aftertaste, like what petrol smells like. You want to spit it out.

Finally, gasping, you sit up. Yoongi carelessly wipes his already healing wrist on the covers, and you wonder if his reasoning behind getting white bed sheets for his Feed room is for the purpose of staining it red with blood, a display of his wreckage.

You glare at him, watch him pick at his nails. “Fuck you, you wanted me to suffer.”

He meets your eye, and you feel a spear of eyes pierce into your soul. “And what about it?” His voice is low, a hum, a purr, indicative that he’d just woken up.

Unbelievable. He’s fucking sick in the head.

“Not even a hello? A self introduction? You could have at least warned me.” You rub at your right neck where he had terrorised, the ghost of the brain-melting agony haunting you, and you don’t think it will ever stop haunting you.

“Do you talk to your breakfast before you eat it?” He grunts.

Truly, you’re at a loss for words. Gawking at him, you’re incensed to see the indifference in his pupils that have returned to normal now. He doesn’t back down from your gaze. For many, silence is an awkward discomfort, a moment where your brains are scrambling for the next topic of conversation. With Yoongi, silence is powerful; the silence speaks volumes, it tells you more about him than when he is speaking.

“I’m not a fucking waffle. I’m a living, breathing human; I have feelings, I-”

“I don’t care.”

His eyes are still locked onto yours as he climbs further up the bed. It takes every fibre in you not to shrink back against the headboard. You can’t show your fear, you can’t let him know the power he has over you.

“You think you have a hold on me, that I’ll give you the reaction you want,” he’s hovering over you now, your frame trapped between his arms, “but I know men like you. You-”

“There are no men like me.” Yoongi rumbles, his shadow towering over you but you refuse to lay on your back, refuse to cower.

“You act so cruel because you think the world owes you. You act like you don’t give a fuck about anyone except yourself. You abuse the power you have to hurt other people because it validates you. But it’s men like you who have the weakest minds, who are the most afraid and lonely.”

The growl that rips from his throat silences you. You wonder if you’re pushing too far. But what have you got to lose anyway? Might as well gamble with your life. “Shut the fuck up, you know nothing about me.” He clutches your throat in one swift motion.

“I know that you’re just a scared little boy inside who is trapped in this immortal body with no escape from his bloodlust.” You choke out despite his constricting grip.

“Shut up!” Yoongi lifts his other hand at you, but halts before he swings.

You don’t even flinch. Because you know you’ve won. If the game he plays is abuse and violence, you’ve definitely won, you’ve been practicing for it for years. Staring deep into his eyes, you know he knows too. So his arm slowly droops down, and he lets your neck go with an unnecessary shove. You splutter a cough.

He gets off you and hops off the bed, making his way to the window where he flings open the curtains and stares through the window into the dark night. Though he is facing away from you, you can tell that his mind has transported to some place distant, some place in the past, you wager.

He was going to hit you. He was going to hit you.

But he also didn’t. He stopped himself. Why? May there be a shard of hope left for his redemption? Maybe he does have a seed of humanity buried deep somewhere, awaiting its saviour droplets of dew to liberate it from centuries of misery, so it can sprout into a fresh green sap.

But why are you hoping? Why are you giving him the benefit of the doubt? He has no respect for you, or anyone; he views you as beneath him, not even worthy to speak to. He’s worse than Namjoon. Your pain fascinates him. He’s unsaveable.

Just try. He needs you. A voice sounds in your head, so clear that you look around for its source. Save him from himself. It’s your duty.

Duty? You frown. He can rot for all you care.

“What happened to my uncle?” Yoongi’s trance is stirred by your blunt question, though he doesn’t turn to you.

“Dead, Jungkook killed him.” He says it so casually, as if it was nothing more than a fleck of dust, as if he’s pretending not to know the impact it would have on you. Your chest caves in.

Dead.

Why is he dead while you are kept alive here, as a prisoner, as a toy? Why was he allowed to be set free from his crimes just like that while you are being endlessly punished by the one sole mistake in your past?

Drip. Drip drip.

The tears flow out soundlessly. You watch them splatter onto your shirt into dark splotches.

Yoongi notices and peers over at you, frowning. “Why are you crying? Don’t you hate him?”

“I… I fucking despised him. I wanted to be the one to kill him, but only after I do to him everything he did to me. It was my right, my right, and you guys took that from me.” It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as your pulse rises. You’re on the brink of hysteria, you feel it. You’re going to crack open and finally detonate.

If there was one thing you wanted, it was revenge for your suffering at the hands of your uncle. And you couldn’t even get that. What do you have to look forward to anymore?

A scoff leaves Yoongi, almost humoured, but dark. “You wanted to kill him?” He meanders back towards the bed. “Little girl, let me tell you that we did you a favour by killing him for you. Killing is an irremediable curse. It would have robbed your innocence, tainted your purity and haunted your dreams for the rest of your life. Revenge on your enemy is poison for your soul. Be glad you have never and will never kill.”

You suck in your breath, and hold it there. The significance of his words sink into you like a heavy vessel, pushing through the screams of madness wreaking havoc in your brain right now, and planting itself into your heart.

Killing is a curse.

Of course, of all beings, Yoongi would know best.

You sniff and look up, to be greeted by the soft cotton of his sleeve roughly wiping your eyes. “Stop crying, you look ugly.”

“Wh-”

“Plus,” he jabs his sleeve at your drying cheeks, “angel blood runs in your veins. You’re supernaturally inclined to virtue and righteousness. You wouldn’t have been able to commit such sin.”

Is that true? Your angel blood forbids you to sin? Thinking back, you had always been a good chaste child, obedient, caring, sweet and innocent. It was only towards the very end of your parents’ lives where you became more and more corrupted. And if you’re not wrong, it was only that very last month where rebellion arose from you and your relationship with them deteriorated out of the blue.

Where was your angel’s virtue that night they died?

01:01.

“God, you’re going to be a fucking pain.” Yoongi rumbles and the scene dissolves. “You’re lucky the seven of us are sharing you, or I would be making your life more of a nightmare than it was before.”

You ignore his comment; you’re learning that the less of a reaction you give him to his attacks, the more it will bother him. “How come I’m not sired to you yet?” For Namjoon and Seokjin, the bond had formed on the second time they fed on you, while it hadn’t happened with Yoongi yet.

“I don’t fucking know. Sireship is a tempermental thing, I guess. It has always taken me longer. If you’re so prone to be sired to me, I guess I’ll just accelerate the process.”

“N-” You protest as you register what he means but it’s too late. Yoongi has once again clambered over you, disregarding your discomfort as he situates his knees on either side of your lap and bites into your neck.

This time, you can’t suppress the surprised squeal of pain. And fuck there should be a new word to describe the hot white inferno at the laceration of your flesh because agony is a pin prick in comparison. You try to shove him off; it’s been too soon since his last feeding, your skin still feels incredibly raw. But instead, your efforts only cause his fangs to tear through you even more, and you scream at the rupture.

His rough hands hold you in place, pressing down onto your throat until you’re struggling for breath. You pray for the sire bond to come, to alleviate you from the pain even if it will leash you to this demon and cloud your judgement about him. You didn’t think you would ever rather be magically submitted to Yoongi than have to endure his vicious methods every time, but God. The pain is toppling your mind; you’d choose anything and everything so not to feel it right this moment.

But the bond doesn’t come. The universe enjoys watching you suffer, the heavens stand by idly watching.

Fuck, you really think you’re going to die this time. You really just wish you would already.

Yoongi’s body sits on top of you as he pulls you up, closer into him, one of his arms slithering behind your back. Adrenaline filled, your hand flies towards his head in attempt to slap him, though it would’ve been futile anyway. But his own hand releases your throat and catches it in the air, speed frightening, as he slams your wrist against the headboard.

The pounding in your head is growing, the familiar blurring vision as your eyes are fixed on one point in the ceiling, blank. You stop struggling.

He can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. So don’t let him.

Distract yourself. Think about something else. Someone else.

Seokjin.

Imagine it’s him feeding on you right now, rather than this monster. It doesn’t hurt when it’s Seokjin; it doesn’t hurt now. Let him drink as much as he wants because he will most likely starve himself as much as he can postpone the next time he feeds.

Seokjin just wanted to be human. He never hopped aboard on Namjoon’s quest for immortality, he was never greedy and sought power. He just wished for a normal life, with his studies and his beloved brothers.

It’s okay for Seokjin to feed on you. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

No pain. No pain. No pain.

You picture his soft curved features, round button nose, smooth cheeks, plump tender lips. His lips. You two shouldn’t have kissed, but it means something that you did.

Ow. Yoongi pulled away only to bury into another spot nearby again, this time closer to your shoulder, his fangs scraping your joint.

Seokjin’s lips. Think about how safe you felt with him, how understood, how respected. Your sire bond had not only allowed you to feel each other’s emotions, it had also been in the form of a bridge. You felt like equals.

You heart clenches at the memory of his words. “I don’t wish to offend you in any way. I care about you. I don’t wish to confuse you. So, it’s best if it doesn’t happen again. For our own sake.”

Why must you feel this way for him now? Why must you confuse the sense of security he provides with affection? Why do you want more?

God, you want more. You want so much more. You want to feel alive from the rush of kissing someone. You miss the bliss of falling in love.

Why must this world be so cruel? Why must it rob you of all things that keep you sound and grounded? You have nothing left - truly nothing left. You’re just lifeless vacancy.

Your thoughts are going in loops, a downwards spiral. Yoongi devours his meal that is you, delighting in the whimpers you unknowingly let out every now and again. Your back has slid down against the headboard; he is now completely on top of you, your wrist pinned onto the pillow, his face buried in your neck, his body laid between your legs.

Yoongi noticing your consciousness waning again as you chant something over and over again under your breath like a broken doll, so he releases your neck for a moment. Your lips are paper white, eyes glazed, blood surging out of your right neck area like a riptide. It’s a lovely thick crimson, Yoongi’s favourite shade. And he’ll admit that it’s possibly the best he’s ever tasted.

He bites into his own wrist and feeds it to you. The six of them would be dreadfully unhappy with you if he manages to kill you on his first day. This time you don’t resist his blood; it trickles down your throat as you continue to mouth those inaudible words to yourself. Maybe he’s fucked you up for good already. Psh. The thought arouses him.

You choke on his blood as he knew you would because you hadn’t known to swallow, coughing out of your daze. You try to say something, but it comes out as a splutter of his plasma.

“What are you muttering?” Yoongi eyes down at you with a quirked brow, smearing red all around your mouth until it’s dripping off your chin, mirroring him. What a pretty sight.

“M-more.” Your voice is hoarse, as if you’d been screaming. But you hadn’t been.

“What?” He frowns, thumb freezing mid-stroke across your lips.

You think you’ve lost your mind. No, you’ve definitely lost your mind. There’s a hollowness within you that stretches beyond physicality, an outcome of torment after torment, tragedies that keep digging this hole of depression inside you. And you’ve never given up trying to climb out of this crater, you just kept trying and trying.

Until now.

“Give me more.” The lack of emotion in your voice sounds foreign yet familiar. “Make me feel more, fucking please. Because I honestly feel nothing, I don’t even feel the pain anymore. I’m so fucking numb and empty and I just want to feel something again.”

Yoongi blinks at you. Of all things, he hadn’t expected this. He knew you would be an interesting one, given the hell they had found you in. He thought the angel blood would have compelled some shred of purity and naivety in you still, even after your unfortunate past. He had been excited to strip you of your hope and sanity. But it seems like that has already been done.

“What the fuck do you want me to do then? Rip your arm off?”

“I don’t care. Just make me feel more, more than this bleak fucking void.”

He himself is all too familiar with this feeling - of being beaten down so much by the world that nothing even fazes him anymore, nothing even hurts. Unsure of what to do at first, he leans back down, hovering over you. He can’t read your eyes, or perhaps there’s nothing for him to read. You’re just blank.

Should he rip you open? Maybe you’ll feel that. But he knows you mean something deeper.

You watch Yoongi hesitate over you, sniffing at the drying blood on your skin. You do feel something right now: anticipation. What’s he going to do to you this time? Or is he even going to follow your request? Why should he care that you’re just a husk of a person now after all? You’re just his food.

But then his eyes flicker up at yours again, and you hadn’t realised that there are different shades of black until now. There are bright blacks that strike at you, soft blacks that soothe the soul, then there is true black where the darkness is so strong and absolute that it captivates you. Yoongi’s eyes are true black.

“Be careful what you ask for…” The danger in his low voice sends a creature crawling down your back. “You want to feel something? I’ll make you feel something.”

“Just-”

You don’t have time to react when he cuts you off by pressing his lips onto yours. Mind empty. Chest clenches.

Anyone would suspect he was a heartthrob if they felt his lips without any prior knowledge of the kind of person he is. They’re soft, inexplicably soft. You don’t understand how a monster like him has such soft lips… Another thing you don’t understand is why he is kissing you. Why the fuck is he kissing you?

You place your hand against his shoulder and push weakly. Not even a push. Your muscles are numb from the shock. He pays you no attention.

But then, soft as they are, his mouth soon begins to move roughly to claim yours, sucking on your bottom lip as you can’t help but shut your eyes and allow yourself to drown in this feeling. Because, God, you are feeling something, feeling more. You feel the rush in your blood, that exhilarating surge of adrenaline. And you hate that of all things, this is what makes you feel - kissing the man who delighted in hurting you. It’s a joke how damaged you are.

Kissing Seokjin had felt safe, secure, like curling up in bed after a long day. Kissing Yoongi feels dangerous, fatal, like injecting something deadly into your veins just to experience that high, not knowing if this will be the time you’ll overdose or not. It’s precarious. It’s the not-knowing that brings the thrill.

Yoongi bites down on your lip, not at all delicately; you wince as you taste your own blood. It’s twisted but when his tongue flicks out to lap at your cut, something in your core throbs. His hand comes around your throat, digging his fingers into you. Your breath hitches and he takes the opportunity to kiss you deeper. Your own hands stay lingering on his shoulders, not daring to touch him more because that would feel too affectionate.

And this is anything but affectionate. It’s raw, carnal. Tongue laced with hatred, but need for relief.

With his body positioned between your legs, he doesn’t hesitate to announce his arousal as he grinds into your core. Even as you think about how much you despise this man, your traitorous cunt leaks at the feeling of his hardness rubbing against you.

“I can smell how responsive you are.” He growls into your mouth, hand running down your front to slide into your pants. You feel the hairs on your neck rise as his cold fingers meet your pubic bone. “It must pain you so much, how much you hate me, but how wet I make you.” Something in you sets on fire when he finds your clit, pulsing under his thumb.

Fuck, you’re definitely feeling more. More than you bargained for.

“It’s because I’m thinking about your brother.” You spit back.

He slaps you- down there. The wet clap resonates embarrassingly loud. Cool air licks up your thighs to your dripping cunt when he rips off your bottoms, literally rips, and tosses the fabric carelessly onto the floor. “I’ll fuck you until you’re crying my name, you slut. I’ll fuck you until you’re begging me to stop because you can’t feel your legs anymore.”

Your foreheads are pressed together, as you stare at each other ferociously, warm breaths infusing, blood oozing from your lip. His threat sends another thrumming through your veins, which settles itself in your clit. You know he means every word he says. You know you should shove him off and yell for him to stop because that’s the sane thing to do. Instead, you say:

“Fuck me then, you piece of shit.”

In a brute vigor, he flips you onto your stomach. You hear the ring of the smack before you feel his palm collide on the tender cheek of your ass. The tingling sting imprinted on your skin is laced with a sick pleasure. Of all people, you should be the last to enjoy someone hitting you. Yet here you are, as a groan slips out you mouth.

“Do you fucking feel something now?” He spanks you again, this time on the other cheek. “You want to feel something so fucking badly.” Spank, this time harder than last. “Then I’ll make you feel.” Another spank. You bite down onto the pillow that your face is buried in.

You hear him tug down his own cotton joggers and your heart squeezes in anticipation. And when you feel him fit his stiffened velvet length between your ass cheeks, your heart plunges all the way down to your cunt.

Fuck. Your entire body is practically trembling for him, and you fucking hate it. “I hate you.”

“Good.” Yoongi grumbles into your ear as he grinds himself into your rear, gripping onto your hips so hard that it will surely bruise. “I hate you, too.”

“You get hard from watching someone bleed, you’re a sick fuck.” Even as you say that, you’re tilting your head back so the sensitive shell of your ear brushes his lips. The touch drills a twisting pressure in your pussy.

“And you get wet from kissing someone who made you bleed, you dirty fucking slut.” Cock still burrowed between your cheeks, you feel his tip dribble a trail of warm precum. Purring, he nips at your lobe, piercing through your skin as if it were paper. You yelp.

Abruptly, he sits up again and spanks you once more. In the absence of his cock humping into your rear, your backside feels barren. But you soon realise what’s coming next. “Get on your hands and knees.” He commands. When you fail to move quick enough, he wrenches your hip up to the height of his twitching member, liquid still streaming out his slit profusely as he lines his head to your damp entrance.

You’re all but whining for him to put the damn thing in already when he takes your hair and wrap it around his fist like a rein, yanking your head back. Still, he toys with your apparent impatience, slapping and running his bulging tip through your wet folds. Your exhale comes out as a quivering pant.

Just as your string of irritated curses at him are on the brink of tumbling out, he sinks his entire length into you without warning.

“Fuck!” You cry out. It’s been so long since the last time that your walls feel as though a train has run through them, stretching so thin to encompass his size.

And there it is - the vulgar, mind-twisting, irreplaceable feeling of being fucked.

Sparing you no time to adjust, Yoongi slams into you again, and again, in a stable strong pace, pulling your hair back harder until your back is bent upwards sorely. The ache in your cunt is trying to claw its way into you and fester in your flesh. Your knuckles whiten as you close your grip around the pillow cover, creasing the fabric in your fists. Grunting, he tears off your shirt from your back, freeing your breasts to the cool air.

His thrusts are merciless, the slapping of his hips to your rear echoing in the air. Fuck, he feels massive, cock punching into your weeping walls while you clench around him from the pain and the pleasure - two indistinguishable sensations. He tugs on your hair so hard that you have to yield and lift off your hands so you’re balanced on your knees, his greedy hand taking this chance to fondle with your breasts, pinching your nipple and twisting them roughly between his fingers.

Then his hand snakes around your neck once again, squeezing the air out of your lungs. Wheezing, you grab onto his thigh behind yours in retaliation and dig your fingers so hard that you feel his skin crack.

“You’re fucking asking for it.” He snarls. You twist to look at him just in time to see him bare his fangs, then digs into your neck. The sensation of his cock pounding into you at the same instance as your blood being drained into his mouth sends a shock through you. He seems to tense at the impact too.

Wait, no, it’s not a shock.

You feel every single cell in your body quake, dissociate. When you shut your eyes, your soul is sucked into a hurricane of darkness, whirling you deeper and deeper into the black hole. Closer and closer to Yoongi. Even when you try to open your eyes, all you see is black. Endless black. True black. In a state of matter and antimatter at the same time, it feels as though you’ve been transported to a dimension between Earth and Hell, human but not quite, substantial but not quite, real but not quite. You’re a mere essence, a whisper of a soul, yet you can feel the ground beneath your feet. There are chains around your ankles and wrists; you can’t see anything aside from the darkness but the shackles are still ever present, holding you down.

Something trickles down your face - a tear. You touch it, but it feels too thick. You taste it, and it tastes of Yoongi’s blood. Bittersweet. You tug on the chains but they don’t budge, so you follow them, padding through the darkness as you pass metal link after link through your hands. Until you reach a mass.

Not a mass, a person, hunched over. You can just vaguely make out his silhouette that reflects a particularly sad darkness.

His shoulders are shaking.

Dazed, you bend down. Put your arm around him. Nuzzle his neck. And whisper ‘it’s okay’.

You stay there, chained to one another, tears of blood still streaming from your sightless eyes. Huddled together in the darkness.

With a gasp, you return to your body, mind distorted by the magic. And though you’re no longer in that place, wherever that is, you still feel the phantom shackles secured around you. Yoongi is still drinking you in large gulps, but his breathing is noticeably different.

He felt that too, the bond.

His fangs feel different to your flesh, no longer a sharp weapon to break your skin. They feel like an anchor, holding him onto you, letting him enter your soul. You shudder at the intimacy it imbeds.

Despite the trance he appears to be in, his pounding has not once faltered, but more even, as if the bond has driven him on. If he was an animal before, he is a beast now. The weight of his body forces you down, face pinned onto the pillow under him while his hands assail your breasts.

This new sensation is so raw, so undiluted, relentlessly filling you with a fervorous want for Yoongi. Your cunt is furiously clenching around him, the pressure begging to be released from its cage.

“Fuck-” He groans as he finally stops drinking. “This stupid fucking bond feels- Fuck.”

Each thrust he slams into you, you feel another unbreakable chain forming, binding you to him. And each time you close your eyes, you’re back to the darkness where you’re holding the crying boy. Something is clawing your heart, scratching it, tearing it, ripping its chambers open. You realise tears, actual tears this time, are rolling off your temple. You can’t tell if it’s because of the penetration of sadness from that boy made of darkness, or the penetration of Yoongi’s unceasingly brutal cock.

Then finally - ignition at every nerve ending in your core, rupturing through your entirety as if you are a mere vessel. You think you’re screaming but you can’t hear over the roaring of your pulse. The pillow you’re pressed onto suffocating you. Your walls squeeze as the pleasure wrenches you completely.

Yoongi watch you come undone beneath him, pace fastening to chase after his own climax. You’re panting, crying, bleeding from your neck down to your spine, yet features twisted in such pleasure. The juxtaposition. His member is throbbing inside you, veins bulging out on the sides. Hell, he is going to burst. And the moment he feels it coming, he pulls out and watches himself shoot onto your back, splattering your red hand-printed ass with his milky ejaculation.

“Fuck…” He moans, stroking out his high as he feasts on how you are still convulsing under him. Your trickling sweat mixes with your tears.

You don’t think you can move at all, even as Yoongi gets off you. His fingers play with his cum on your ass, smearing it along with your blood to paint himself all over you. You suspect it’s a mark of possession, a mark of victory. Because you definitely feel defeated.

You feel alive, but dead. You feel ashamed.

His tongue trails up your back, tasting himself along with your scarlet liquid. Angel blood has always been a favourite of his, because he loved how crazy it made him, how feral. But now, after the sireship, its taste is… untaintedly holy, like ambrosia, the food of the Gods. Unmatched by anything he has ever drank. He doesn’t think he can go back to drinking any other moral’s blood after this. You’ve ruined him for good.

And the bond… Yoongi stops licking. There are foreign emotions whirling within him right now, and one of them, he thinks is fear. Fear of the strength of this bond. Fear of the intimacy it threatens between you.

He had felt you - your arm around him, your gentle voice tickling his neck - during that complete blackness where he had fallen back to a deep dark past. It was a vulnerability that he had never experienced before. He was powerless against your intrusion.

So Yoongi pushes himself off you and clears his throat. “You dead yet?”

No response, no movement.

He rolls his eyes and commences to heal you. Mortals are annoyingly fickle creatures, you drink too much of their blood or fuck them too hard and they pass out, he thinks.

This time, it takes you a while to regain your consciousness, during which Yoongi dresses himself, but doesn’t bother cleaning you up. You sit up, naked and shamefully exposed. When you meet his obsidian pupils, you don’t know how to interpret the confusion in them.

“What the fuck?” You ask as if you hadn’t willingly took part, even though you both know you clearly had. There is a raw soreness blaring between your thighs, and you’re embarrassed to find yourself glancing over at his crotch.

“You asked me to make you feel something. Why are you acting surprised?” His lids are half closed, bored, as he surveys the puddles of red on the bed. Your eyes follow his, trying to process how the sheets had been spotlessly white not three hours ago, yet now they only possess one corner that isn’t stained in crimson. It looks as though cattle had been slaughtered here as a sacrifice to the divinity. It’s all your blood.

And when you lock eyes with him again, you feel the weight of the chains hanging from your limbs. Bound forever.

“You feel alive now, don’t you? Dead inside still, but at least your heart was racing when I was fucking you.” He taunts, slowly rolling off the bed in an indifference that boils your blood.

You hate how true his words are. That was the very feeling you wanted, the thrill that you were seeking to break you out of that inertia. You hate how it was with him, of all people. It could have been anyone under this roof, yet you picked this monster. And you hate how, even now, you don’t think you regret it, not even with the disgust and resentment raking at your chest for this vampire.

“You should get used to it. Sex is a faultless coping mechanism for those of us who are too hollow to feel anything else.” Yoongi continues, as he heads towards the door. “Wash yourself up and stay here until I come back when I’m hungry again.”

A response still trying to formulate in your brain, all you can do is stare at his back in silence. Quietly fuming.

Yoongi pauses before twisting the doorknob. “Oh, and don’t think I did that for you. I couldn’t wait to fuck you as soon as I tasted your blood.”

It was all you could do to restrain yourself from leaping across the room and hammering his face. Not that you would’ve been able to anyway. Motherfucker is so insecure that he couldn’t risk you thinking that he would ever not act out of self interest, so he masks it with spiteful words to try to hurt you.

“You tried so fucking hard to break me, but I was already broken.”

His head turns, shadows casting over his profile. His lips purse into a smirk that holds no amusement at all. “Join the fucking club, you’re nothing special.”

“I fucking hate you.” You spit back at him, the venom imbued in your words is more than you thought you were capable of and it surprises you.

He gazes at you over his shoulder, unfazed. Cold and unfeeling. And somehow the words he reply inflict an ache in your heart that shouldn’t be there because, all of a sudden, you see a flash of the small broken boy before you.

“I fucking hate me too.”

Then he slams the door behind him.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine @shooklier @livetay84 @runlikeabuffalo @nanna022 @berryjam17 @thelouhvre @bluemooncnblue @enigmaticlove-03 @lanu-la @bangtanfancamp

❦

23/11/2019

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you-are-my-neverland · 4 years

Text

so. it’s finally time to talk about [my] nano.

i’ve kept my nano project pretty under wraps so far, mostly because it’s been out of my hands. i wasn’t actually planning on doing a for real for real nano; instead, i thought i would dedicate some time to my fanfic (spoiler alert, but i haven’t yet) or work on finishing up revising fairbone (spoiler alert: i did revise one chapter, but i still have like half of it left to go and a nov 30 deadline...rip). if that didn’t work, i thought i would pick a wip i started over the summer or one i had half developed (let’s just say the ideas note i have really boomed over the summer and like...yeah). in conclusion, there were many wips ready for me to work on them, including ash heart, which i really want to write but haven’t figured out how to.

instead i started a new wip.

well, it’s not necessarily new, persay. it’s an idea i’ve had stewing since like late september/early october and planned out a good portion of. however, deciding to start it was a last minute decision - and by last decision, i mean that on october 31st i finished developing the barebones of character development and basic plot lol and then gave it a go. it’s honestly been going crazy well. as of today (november 9th), i just hit 21.2k words. i’m hopeful about this year, while also not wanting to jinx stuff, but like...wow. but writing is has made me realize that, wow, this book is going to be crazy long probably...like i’m 21k words in and we’re still like in the exposition idk what’s going on. but hey, i finished planning out the rest of the basic plot for it today!!!

right. onto the wip details.

honestly, the only reason i haven’t introduced this wip is because a) i want actual stuff done on it and like a proven commitment, because i feel like too often i introduce wips i don’t actually go anywhere with and i hate it, b) i don’t have a set title and c) i actually have no idea how to summarize this.

the novel i’m working on right now is the first of a projected trilogy. i say projected because i have a vague idea that it belongs to a trilogy, but like not a lot of plot except some vaguely connected ideas that should happen in the future. in it, i used a lot of characters from these violent ends, which i tried to write for camp april 2020, but like just their basic barebones; i changed a lot to fit the story, of course.

not to sound nerdy, but it is like....harry potter inspired, but ONLY in the magical boarding school sense. of course, right now all i have is magical boarding school shenanigans, which i don’t really like because i feel like it unfairly sets the book up as like fun magical stuff when it’s really about murder & politics & student activism (+ a lot of other things ending in -ism). the whole activism part came from watching the trial of the chicago 7 and i was like, bingo, this is what this story needs.

kay but ANYWAYS. onto the story. like i said, i can’t really summarize it, but there are lots of themes of classism, feminism, the affect on youth and youth’s effect, manipulative adults, revolution, terrorism, sibling dynamics and found family vibes, like all that stuff...packaged into a magical boarding school off the coast of maine setting...recipe for disaster!

mainly i’ve been writing in ophelia’s pov, because she’s my main girl and she’s problematic, but also she’s trying her best and just having a little difficulty fitting in. some other main characters are her twin brother, sebastian, and two other boys, asriel and vincent, who have an initially animistic relationship with ophelia (& kind of each other?) but it’s like enemies to friends (to lovers?).

anyways. here are some carefully curated excerpts below the cut:

i. vincent and asriel meet on a train (ch. 1)

The boy pursed his lips together. “It’s unusual,” he said, finally. “That’s all.” But he was looking at Vincent as if he was noticing him, which meant he was lying, or at least withholding the truth about something. He added, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Do you mean geographically?” Vincent replied, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m from New York.”

A small glimmer of a smile appeared on the boy’s lips, though it vanished as quickly as it had come. “From the Magical World,” he clarified.

“What gives it away?” Vincent asked sarcastically, waving a hand across his body. “My impeccable taste?”

“Among other things,” the boy said.

ii. sebastian and ophelia discuss grief on a ferry (ch.2 )

“You and mom talked?” Ophelia asked, surprised. She hadn’t exactly been keeping track of them, but she was sure she and Sebastian had spent much of the day together, as they were wont to do.

Sebastian looked at the floor. “Yeah,” he answered, hoarsely. “At least she wants to talk about Des. Dad doesn’t, and neither do you.”

Ophelia sighed, wondering why, today of all days, her sister was haunting them. Maybe it was because there should have been three people heading to Rijevduct, instead of two. Maybe Mother Magic was reminded of the loss of one of her own.

“I’ve let her go,” she said. “You should too. We have too much of our lives ahead of us to mourn Desdemona forever.”

“I don’t mourn,” Sebastian said, words uncharacteristically sharp. “But I do grieve.”

“Isn’t that basically the same thing,” Ophelia mumbled, closing her eyes and feeling the press of a headache behind them.

“Sorrow,” Sebastian said, the word a soft shudder. “And sad endings.”

“What?”

“That’s what makes a good tragedy,” Sebastian answered. “I read it in a book.”

iii. headmistress alexeyev gives a speech (ch. 2)

“Eight years ago, seventy two students were slaughtered here. Some died on the very spot where you now stand today.” Ophelia glanced down at the floor, seeing the motion repeated instinctively around her as well. She looked over at Sebastian, who had closed his eyes instead, a pale flush meeting the faint color in his cheeks. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, tennis shoes scraping against stone as he toed them against the floor, as if he was shaking something only visible to him off.

“It was a tragedy,” Headmistress Alexeyev continued. “I say this because it is the truth. It was a tragedy, and not one that should never have happened.” She inhaled; Ophelia saw her chest rise, shoulders with it, in a sharp motion before she exhaled, body rearranging itself into poise once more. “I speak of this to tell you to assure you that Rijevduct is safe. I know there have been continuous doubts over the security of this school since that day eight years ago. I cannot, of course, guarantee that you will not come to any harm here. I cannot tell you that Rijevduct is the safe haven you were taught it was growing up; events have already proved that it is, in fact, not as impenetrable as one might think.”

Ophelia frowned, confused as to the line of reasoning. She had thought the whole point of the year of transition was to make sure that Rijevduct was infinitely more safer than it had been—and they had all been under the assumption that Rijevduct was virtually impenetrable until the massacre, which had led to the heightened security measures they saw today.

“I can, however, promise you that I, and everyone here today, will do anything in their power to keep you safe,” the Headmistress said. Next to Ophelia, Briar bowed her head, lowering her eyes and swallowing, the action almost a convulsion of her throat and mouth. Ophelia brushed her hand, lightly, in question, and the other girl just shook her head, looking away purposefully, so that Ophelia lost sight of her face and her sad eyes.

“These next three years will be far from easy. Gone are the sheltered lives where your parents could kiss your injuries goodbye, or sing you to sleep at night. Rijevduct is far from the cold, real world, but it is close enough when it comes to not asking you what you want first. This is an adjustment period. This is learning how to survive—and I will tell you this; surviving means many different things to many different people. You will have to decide on your own what this will mean for you, and how you will apply what you are taught here to your futures. Be wise. Be proud. Be humble. Cry. Laugh. Live. As your Headmistress, I, along with your professors, will be here throughout your time.” She raised her glass, “To the worthy,” and then drank, turning and walking back to her seat, which she lowered herself into gracefully.

iv. sebastian pov! (ch. 3)

There was a dead girl in Sebastian’s first period Magical Theory class. She was sitting diagonal from him, on the Glass side of the classroom, in an empty chair, staring straight ahead at the chalkboard. Sebastian tried not to look at her too obviously, his eyes straying from the open book in front of him to her cautiously, beneath the sleeve of his sweater.

She was sitting blankly in the chair, scraping her shoes against the ground, though they could not leave any scuff marks. Though she was the same faded shades most girls were, Sebastian could make out her pleated pale blue plaid skirt, which brushed around her knees, and the stained white blouse that might have once been spotless, but had been marred forever by the circumstances surrounding her death—objectively, that was to say, with blood. Her dark brown hair fell into loose curls around her shoulders, little silver studs glinting dimly, unable to catch the light. Her knee high socks now pooled around her calves and ankles, revealing a rotting bandaid on one of her knees. One of her tennis shoes was peeling at the toes, looking as if it had been ripped apart.

Her fingernails had all been pulled off. Sebastian was good at analyzing ghosts by this point; he recognized the bloody flesh and bone of the nail bed. There was also blood matted across her head, trickling down her temple, with bruises covering her body; they peeked out from beneath the collar of her shirt, blackened across her cheekbones with a sunken quality in particular to one of her cheeks, as if the bone had begun to cave.

Subjectively, she was far from one of the worst that Sebastian had seen.

#writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing #nano 2020 #nanowrimo 2020 #nano update #11.9.2020 #enjoy these excerpts they are not so trash after all #this is all so messy #but i didn't want to ss because it will look ugly #this should be called i explain my nano2020 w/o explaining anything #i want to make a point with this but also]#magical boarding school shenanigans TT #like it's bothering me how it has like a different start than its end but maybe that will be good in the end?#who knows who knows #anyways if i tried to actually explain my wip we would be here all night

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myukulelegentlyweeps · 4 years

Text

Nowhere Man - Part IV

Pairing : George Harrison x female reader

Summary : George was sick of the Let It Be sessions, took the day off and met (Y/n), waitress and amateur musician, who happened to be performing the song Nowhere Man at the exact time when he felt like one.

Previous chapters : Part I, Part I bis, Part II, Part III

In this chapter : Geo cuddles his girlfriend (a.k.a you)

Tag list : @givemequeen

Word count : 1.3k

A/n : The long awaited Part 4! So basically this is pure fluff and I really enjoyed writing (Y/n)/George dialogue, but you could consider it a “filler-transition” chapter...I strongly advise you read it anyway :)

Warnings : Descriptions of a healthy, happy relationship in its honeymoon phase

February 1969. You and George had been dating for two months now, and it was heaven. Every conversation was full of meaning, every touch filled with intention, and every kiss made you feel like you were the most important person in the world in his eyes. You would not have imagined it beforehand, considering his laid back public persona, but the man was clingy : especially now that the Let it Be sessions had ended, he called you at the most random times asking to see you - he even rang you at work occasionally, which your boss found less amusing than you did.

You told each other everything, to the point where you seemed like the oldest of friends to the outside eye. Come to think of it, this relationship was different to your previous ones, since you actually felt completely at ease with George. There was no need to impress the other person and keep them interested in you, as you both loved and admired each other as equals. Silence was as comfortable as conversation : if either of you was too tired or not in the mood to talk, you would find the nearest couch and simply exist in each other’s arms, listening to each other breathe.

So you found yourself here. It was Saturday afternoon. You and George were spooning on the couch of his living room; he had picked you up the previous day at the end of your shift and you had driven to Kinfauns to spend the week-end together. His arms were wrapped around your waist and his hands rested on the naked skin underneath your white button-up shirt. His fingers were slightly cold, but he made up for it in body heat : with your back pressed against his chest, you had your eyes closed and a small smile painted on your face. You could have stayed there all day.

“If you could be anything in the world instead of a human, what would you be?”, he asked you out of the blue. It was not completely unexpected : you two had a sort of running competition for who could come up with the most ridiculous open-ended question - this might have been the best one yet. You shifted your position to face him. “It’s a good question, I’ll give you that”, you admitted. He flashed you a toothy ‘I know, right?’ grin, but you were not finished: “But how would it work? Like, do you mean if I could turn into that something right now, and know that I’ve been a human beforehand? Would I still have my (y/n) conscience while I live in this new body? And would I be able to transform back into a human again at some point?” “Always the smart one aren’t you, with your follow-up questions”, he teased, a slight smirk appearing on the corner of his mouth. You chuckled in disbelief : “But that’s the entire point, isn’t it?” “Dunno, it seemed like a pretty straightforward question to me before you started takin’ it apart.”, he shrugged, making you sigh in defeat. “Right. You answer it, then”, you stuck out your tongue and went back to your original little spoon position.

You expected him to have an answer prepared, instead you were met with only silence as he buried his nose in the back of your neck, making you squirm. “That - tickles -”, you complained breathlessly, but he only tightened his grip around you. Slowly, the initial tickles morphed into a warm tingling sensation moving down your spine, and you settled into the hug in pleasant defeat. “Your hair smells great. I wish they made nice shampoo like that for men.” You shook your head at the remark : “Is that what you would be, then? A bottle of orange blossom shampoo?” Considering your suggestion, he cocked an eyebrow. “Well, no, because bottles run out. It’d be a very short and uneventful life, seeing only someone’s bathroom…Although I wouldn’t mind it if it were yours”, you could almost hear him wink at you. “George, you see me naked all the time. No need to find strategies get into my bathroom, we’re not in middle school.”

After a few minutes of more cuddling, he broke the silence again. “It’d be nice to be a tree.” “Hm?” “Think about it. I’d live a quiet life, constantly surrounded by nature, watchin’ it change with the seasons…Have all sorts of birds make their nests on my branches…” You nodded slowly, trying to picture his words in your mind. Life as a tree. It did sound pleasant. Growing slowly ; never fazed by the elements, being able to enjoy the rain and wind. Grounded by your roots, though still able to touch the sky with your crown…“But you like travelling,” you pointed out. “Could you really enjoy staying put in one same spot for hundreds of years?”

“There’s other ways to travel. That’s what meditation’s all about. Without going out of your door, you can know all things on earth,” he explained, brushing a stray hair strand out of your face. You instantly recognised a line from The Inner Light, the song on the B side of Lady Madonna. “Quoting your own songs, are you now?”, you mocked jokingly, making him chuckle. “Didn’t know you knew that one.” “I was a Beatles fan before I was your girl, remember?” “Oh yeah?”, he smiled, acting all fake-surprised despite it being very old news. “Who was your favourite?”

You did not reply right away. Not that you didn’t know the answer, which was George, through and through : something about his voice had always pulled you to him, and there was a magnetism to being “the quiet one”. Even before you had met him, Mary (the bigger Beatlemaniac out of the two of you) used to tell you you were a “George kind of girl” all the time, referring either to your moderate shyness, your spirituality or your constant snacking. But you did not want to give him that much satisfaction quite yet.

“Paul.”, you finally decided, managing to keep a perfectly straight face through the lie. “Really?”, his smile only widened. You could tell he didn’t completely believe you, but at least you had installed a tinge of doubt. “Funny, I’d pegged ye more as the John type.”, he teased. “John? Never. I do love his songs, but he seems like the most likely to grab a girl’s arse without her consent.” “Well, you’re not wrong…Ringo?” “He’s the sweetest. Love him to bits.” “And rightfully so.”, he agreed.

George went silent, as he often did when the mention of something or someone became a train of thought. Ringo had been the easiest to work with at the studio during the recording of Let it Be - being his good old laid back self, occasionally trying to diffuse the tension, not getting on anyone’s nerves. Had someone asked George about his favourite Beatle at that time, he would have definitely gone with Ringo. Of course it did not mean he disliked John or Paul, as he tried to separate his friendship with them from the recent developments of the band dynamic… They had known each other for ten years, it would not just crumble to the ground the moment someone was being petty. John was still his mate, Paul was still his mate. “But you said Paul was your favourite. What’s it you like so much about ‘im, then?”, he asked as he shook his head back to reality.

“That it would push your buttons the most. Of course you’re my favourite, dummy.”, you brought your lips onto his, pulling him into a sweet kiss.

“I figured. Since you’re dating me and all that.”, he gave you a toothy grin once you had pulled away. “So you don’t like Paul then?” “Never said that. He seems nice enough, and his songs are beautiful. But he’s too attractive, I don’t trust him.” He couldn’t help but laugh at your straightforwardness.

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t hate him, because I was thinking, it’s about time I introduce you to me mates.”

#nowhere man #part iv #let's see how long I can keep the Roman numerals up #Beatles x reader #fanfiction #fluff #the beatles #George harrison #George Harrison x reader #beatles fanfiction #Beatles imagines

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imagine-that-100 · 5 years

Text

Drunk | Part 1 |

Description of Part 1: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | When you come back home to Manchester from University, you get invited to a house party filled with your old friends from high school. You hadn’t seen most of them for 4 years and the house brings back some old memories of the parties you once attended. Getting drunk with old friends ends up being better than you imagined.

Word Count: 11.8k

Warnings: Drug use

A/N: So I sort of just saw this picture of Matty and got the inspiration to write about it. I had no idea where I wanted it to go when I started but I really hope you all enjoy it. I’m sorry ive starved you of Matty content for so long but with the start of Notes I thought everyone deserved a treat. If you all enjoy please let me know if you want a part 2 and if so, let me know if you want to be tagged. Hope you all enjoy, love you x

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| MASTERLIST IN BIO |

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Going to house parties was always fun. Throughout high school they were fun and at Uni the flat parties were on a different level. What was even better, was getting to have house parties with your school friends again once you were all actually old enough to drink.

Since leaving high school, you had only stayed in close contact with about 3 friends out of a group of 25. These three were Alisha, Caroline and your best friend, Y/B/F. You didn’t mind only being in immediate contact with them. When you saw the rest of them now and again, you got on like a house on fire. It was like you never left.

And of course, you replied to them in the group chat when someone made you laugh. You often kept a close eye on all the banter that was going on and they rarely failed to make you laugh. They were a crazy bunch and even you couldn’t deny that.

It was your third and final Christmas coming home from University and your school friends that you left behind couldn’t wait to see you again. You don’t know how they had managed it but apparently they had persuaded your old friend Steve to have another one of his famous house parties.

Throughout high school, Steve’s mum and dad were chill about having a whole house of underage kids drinking, which was great for you and your friends. If you were anyone in your school year, you would be invited to his party. Thankfully you always had been, and you got to witness all of the shenanigans that your peers got up to.

You had seen some crazy shit. You remember at one party in particular that you couldn’t go anywhere without something ridiculous happening. One particular party when you were in Year 10, you found yourself not believing your 15-year-old eyes.

At first it was a normal night, you’d all been drinking and having a blast. The odd behaviour started when you were searching for your best friend. You remember walking into the back room to get more alcohol and seeing Tim, Steve’s older brother do coke. Which was not something you ever expected to see.

After that you went upstairs still in search for your friend, when you walked into Steve’s bedroom. In there was a group of about 10 people smoking weed.

That behaviour was quite common at these parties though. What was odd was that they were all intently watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas on TV.

It was weird considering it was mid-July but you brushed past it. You asked the group if they had seen your best friend and the people who paid attention shook their head.

George waved you over and as you stood next to him, he put his arm around your back and hugged you into his side. As he was sat on Steve’s bed, he was the perfect height to rest your arm on his shoulder. That was, of course, after you ran your fingers through his messy dirty blonde hair.

“You want some?” George offers you his joint and you shook your head.

The last time you smoked weed was with Y/B/F and you ended up having a bit too much. You didn’t want that happening again anytime soon especially in front of other people.

“Fairs” George says before taking a drag. George had been protective over you for a while now and always took care of you at these parties and in school.

He had been like that since Year 8. It originated when he found you practically being pushed down the stairs at school.

Throughout Years 7 and 8, you were bullied by the people in your class almost daily. But after George pushed the kid down the stairs instead of you, people started leaving you alone.

He didn’t let anyone give you shit from that day on and you would be eternally grateful that he did that.

George always looked out for you and when he needed help you looked out for him. For example, since then you had always supported him and his band Drive Like I Do and went to every gig that you could.

They were actually decent which was surprising to a lot of people and you could see them having a future if they all put their minds to it. You actually loved going to their gigs anyway, partly because all of your friends went and partly because you thought that Matty was fit as fuck.

You don’t know why. You knew that he was the class clown in high school from the Art class that you shared with him. But when you were in school, you never really thought of him that way. Not until he was up on stage and became the guy with 0 fucks to give.

That somehow made you think he was really attractive. You don’t know why that became a trait that was attractive to you, but it definitely was.

Matty had always been someone you were sort of envious of. He seemed very carefree and intelligent and you struggled with both of these things. You had to revise really hard for all of your exams in high school and you worried about almost every aspect of it.

Which made the parties a lot nicer for you because you just let all your worries go for the night.

After chatting with George for a bit, he again made sure you were okay which was adorable, and you went back on your search. You don’t know where your best friend had gone which you weren’t surprised by. She always had a habit of disappearing.

The next thing you did was when you made the biggest mistake of the evening. You noticed that Tim’s bedroom door was open, and you thought that people might be gathered inside.

However, you walked in to find Matty shagging a girl in your year called Kayleigh.

You were completely gobsmacked at the sight in front of you and you hastily turned around and closed the door behind you. You couldn’t believe they didn’t even shut, let alone lock, the fucking door.

No one needed to see that.

You were thankful that they didn’t see you as they were both very occupied and you removed yourself from the room very quickly.

You found yourself laughing at the situation and then you really wanted your best friend so you could tell her what you’d just seen. You were surprised that you didn’t feel hurt by seeing that, you just felt the tiniest bit jealous.

When you went back downstairs and moved your way into the garden, you thankfully found your best friend sat by the fire pit. There were a few other people around listening to Adam and Ross play their guitars softly.

You sat yourself down between your best friend and Adam and you found yourself unable to remove the grin off your face. It was just bizarre; you definitely hadn’t expected to see that.

You best friend could tell that something was up straight away.

“What’s so funny?” She asked and you found yourself unable to stop smiling.

You turned to Adam who was just strumming random chords, “I think you need to tell Matty to lock the door when he’s shagging someone”

Adam immediately stopped playing and looked at you with a shocked expression. Both he and your best friend called out, “What?” extremely loud.

Adam got Ross’ attention and he came closer to you as well. All three of them obviously wanting to hear the story. Not that there was much to tell.

You remember telling them and Adam and Ross started creasing with laughter.

They said that they were going to bully him for it, but you made them promise not to say that it was you who told them. Thankfully they did promise, and you thought nothing of it until later when Matty came down and they started laying into him.

He was so confused as to how they knew, and you found it extremely difficult to keep a straight face. After about 5 minutes everyone seemed to know and Matty didn’t even seem to care.

This was not the reaction that Kayleigh was looking for from him though. She looked fuming at him joking around about it.

She went home with her friends about 20 minutes later and Matty didn’t even say bye. Fucking savage.

As the night went on, you remember a group of around 10 of you moving inside to the now empty lounge and you all partook in a game of spin the bottle. It was fairly common at these parties and Steve had just made up a new rule that whatever number that the dice landed on was the time that you had to kiss for.

Everyone jumped on board with the new rule fairly quickly and no one complained about it until George had to kiss you for 3 seconds. He kissed you on your cheek which you thought was cute considering your dynamic.

He clarified to the group, “She’s literally like my sister” which you couldn’t help but smile at because you thought of him as your protective brother.

When it got around to your go, you span the bottle not really caring about who you got. You just hoped it wouldn’t be George.

You started chatting with your best friend after you span it to ease the nerves you felt.You averted your eyes from the bottle as you looked back outside to Caroline who was now asleep.

You both let out a laugh as you saw Alisha trying to get her up. However, your laugher died down when you saw that the bottle had stopped on Matty. You felt your stomach flip.

As someone passed you the dice, George said, “Careful Y/N, you don’t know where he’s been”

The group around you laughed and you let out a chuckle.

Ross then added “Well actually we do” and nudged Matty making the whole group laugh again.

Matty joked, “Don’t worry Y/N/N, I’ve had some mouthwash” which made you shake your head chuckling at him.

You rolled the dice and of course you rolled a 5 which you were unsure if it was a blessing or a curse. But you couldn’t even deny that you were excited about it. After all, you did fancy the boy.

But before you could even prepare yourself, the moment was upon you. Matty had already shuffled across the circle and was in front of you, ready to go.

After raising yourself on your knees to match his height, Matty quickly moved the hair that was in front of your face out of the way and grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you into him. When your lips met, he wasted no time at all.

His kiss was soft but you could also sense that he knew exactly what he wanted out of the act. There was no hesitation in the gesture, it was just you that he wanted and you were feeling the exact same way.

Matty didn’t even hesitate to open your mouth further and let his tongue tease yours. Your hand came up and cupped one side of his face before your fingers laced themselves in the hair on the back of his neck.

He wasn’t even joking when he said he’d had the mouthwash; You could taste the peppermint on his tongue. You could hear everyone around you counting slowly up to five like they had been doing for everyone and when it got to 5 you were surprised to find that Matty didn’t stop.

You were obviously both too invested, Matty’s other hand coming up to hold your side to pull you closer to him more. You never quite imagined that you would fully pull him in front of everyone and he would keep it going as if it was only you two.

You really really weren’t complaining though. His fingers were pulling on your hair and everything that he was doing made you get a bit braver. You pulled a little harder on his hair which made him groan slightly and that made you smile into the kiss.

You were thankful only you heard it because of the commotion around you. Everyone was obviously shook that you were still kissing and they were screaming, “Ohhh” around you.

After a few more seconds, Matty finished the kiss leaving you wanting more. He definitely knew what he was doing and was trying to show off to everyone around him. Not that you were opposed to that, being on the receiving end of it.

When you turned back to your best friend, she had the biggest grin on her face which caused you to smile back at her. You didn’t want it to seem like it was a big deal though, so you just shrugged your shoulders and watched as the game went on.

You remember purposely diverting your eyes from Matty’s as you didn’t want to make it obvious that what just happened was the best moment of your life.

When you did catch his eye though, he would send you a little smirk which made your heart beat faster. You smiled and shook your head back at him and the night went on.

Since then he always made slightly more effort with you in school and you would chat to him more often than you used to. When you passed each other in the corridor he would ask, “You alright?” whereas in the past you would just share a smile.

That was the craziest party you had been to until you got to uni. Uni was great and you did love it, but it made your old parties look like child’s play. Sometimes you just found yourself wanting your friends from back in Manchester to enjoy the mischief with you.

Over the years, George had messaged you a few times to ask you how you were getting on in Leeds. However, the rest of the band you just spoke to when you saw them, and you didn’t see them often.

In fact, today was the first time you would be seeing all of your old group of friends all together since you left school. You don’t know how but Steve had managed to get most of your big group of friends back together for a Christmas house party.

The party started at 7 but you obviously didn’t get there until 9. At that point you went in and were greeted with a bunch of smiling faces of people that had apparently missed you.

Before you knew it, you’d found Steve and he picked you up and twirled you around in a big hug.

“Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much” He grins when he puts you down.

“Aw I’ve missed you too” You tell him and give him another hug. After the tight squeeze he put you at an arms width away from him.

“You look amazing” Steve told you, his eyes glancing down your body.

You looked down at yourself and smiled. You were wearing skinny black jeans and a transparent purple button up blouse. You could see your lacy black bra through it but it wasn’t a big deal.

You also had your black Doc Marten heels on too and you felt pretty. A lot prettier than the last time you had stepped into this house.

Since you last saw Steve you had grown a lot and lost quite a bit of weight. This was thanks to the gym at your college and your Uni.

You weren’t surprised by his reaction to you looking different. You hadn’t seen him in person since the end of summer 4 years ago, the year you all left high school.

You made Steve laugh because you’d brought your bag full of alcohol like old times. Everyone used to bring their own alcohol and keep it in his back room.

Apparently, you didn’t get the memo that Steve would be providing the alcohol this time around, but you put your bag in there anyway. You took out a bottle of cider and started roaming the house you once knew like the back of your hand.

You knew your best friend was here somewhere, but you saw her earlier on for pre drinks, so you were in no rush to find her just yet.

You had to go back home from hers because you needed the things you’d left at your house. You were going to stay at hers tonight and you forgot to bring your stuff. So, you had a change of clothes and a night shirt stuffed underneath your alcohol.

You went around the house and mingled with the people that you once knew. You asked what they had been up to and you told them. You forgot how much you actually missed these people.

You were in the middle of a conversation with a guy called Ben that you used to sit next to in history, when you heard your name being screamed through the room.

“Y/N” They yelled, and you whipped your head around.

You saw George walk in from the back door and you jumped up saying, “Hey”

You quite literally ran over to him and jumped in him arms. He was so tall and muscly now. He had completely changed.

“I’ve missed you sooooo much!” You grinned as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he held you to him.

You had really really missed him.

You hadn’t seen him in over a year and the last time you saw him it was only a brief encounter. You remember passing each other in the street and George stopping asking if it was you.

It was and you couldn’t believe how different he looked. Of course, you had seen his pictures on Facebook, but other than that you hadn’t seen him in person since you left school.

He was massive and ripped now.

Unfortunately, that day he was in a rush to go somewhere but you carried on your conversation over Facebook messenger. You did have a lovely catch up with him that lasted for hours of texting back and forth.

And nothing had changed when he messaged you earlier on today to ask if you were coming to Steve’s tonight.

“I’ve missed you too” He chuckled squeezing you tightly. After a few seconds he puts you down and you start chatting properly.

“So how are you doing?” He asks you.

“I’m great, home for two months now before I’ve gotta head back to Leeds” You inform him before taking another sip of your drink.

“That’s awesome, what are you doing again?” George asks with a curious look on his face.

“Psychology”

“Ah so you can read my mind” He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him.

“Oh yeah” You play along sarcastically.

“So, how’s it all going?” He asks you with a smile on his face.

“Yeah really well thank you, how are you doing?” You ask, returning the smile. You glance down at him and nod with a teasing, “You look great”

And he really did. He was wearing black skinny jeans too but with rips in them with a white top. His dirty blond hair was up in a bun and he looked so cute. Just like you remembered.

“Thanks,” He chuckles at you giving him a knowing look. He definitely appreciated the compliment, so he gave you your own with a cheeky smile, “Says you though, you look fantastic”

“Oh shush,” You laugh, returning his smile before it you asked him, “How’s the band? How are the boys?”

George chuckled and said, “Yeah they’re good thanks, Hann and Ross are outside and Matty is around somewhere” He told you and pointed outside to the other boys who were already around the fire pit.

“I have to say hey” You smiled, moving round George to get outside and he followed you back out.

You walked towards the boys that you hadn’t seen in such a long time and when they saw you, their faces brightened.

Ross got up first end gave you a bug hug saying, “Hey”

You exchanged pleasantries making sure he was good before you moved on to give Adam a hug. You found in school that you were one of the only people to actually call him by his first name.

There was another Adam in your year, but you hated him because he was one of the boys that bullied you. Therefore, you always ignored the others existence and continued to call this wonderful Adam by his first name.

“Adammmm” You dragged out at you gave him a hug.

God you didn’t realise how much you missed them all.

“Heyyyy” He chuckles returning your hug.

When you let go of him you looked back towards the three of them and realised how tall they had all gotten. Literal giants, holy shit.

“Jesus Christ, you’re all fucking massive now�� You tell them, and they all laugh.

You chatted for a bit about each other and brought up a few memories from high school and of course the band came up quickly.

“How the band doing then? I haven’t seen you post anything on the Facebook page in ages” You asked them.

They all looked confused for a minute until Ross asked, “I’m sure we posted yesterday, right?” And the other boys around him nodded.

You furrowed your eyebrows and got your phone out of your pocket. You went on Facebook and typed ‘Drive Like I Do’ in at the top and brought the page up.

You shook your head and said, “No you haven’t posed since last December” You showed George your phone and when he looked at it, he started laughing.

You were confused for a second until he explained “No Y/N/N, we’re not called that anymore”

You were beyond confused by what he said and how you didn’t know about the change. George then continued to say “Yeah we’re called The 1975 now”

“What? Why did you change it?” You ask.

Adam chuckled, “Since Matty got it tattooed on his arm after one conversation about it”

You shook your head with disappointment. You weren’t even surprised by Matty’s antics, by the end of college he already had loads of tattoos from the pictures you’d seen.

“Have you released anything yet?” You asked.

“Nah not yet, were working on recording a few EP’s soon though because we have had interest from a label” George explained.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing” You grinned.

You were so happy for them.

“I told you you’d get there” You said wanting the credit for the years of encouragement.

You carry on to joke, “I’ll be your manager; I can get you loads of gigs in Leeds if you’re up for going that far”

Whilst they pretend to take you up on it, George says, “Might take you up on the gigs in Leeds though”

After a really nice chat with them all, you excuse yourself to go and get another drink and hopefully find your best friend. You’d been at the party for at least an hour and a half now and you probably should have found her by this point.

You climbed the stairs and checked the rooms that everyone used to be in. When you got into Steve’s room, you found a few people in there who you had to say hi to.

You sat with them for probably another 20 minutes and you found that your old friends Dan and Courtney were together. You never saw that coming, at one point they despised each other.

They gave you another drink as you were quickly finishing your own and you headed into another room to hopefully find her. You knocked on Tim’s, Steve’s brother, door this time and every time since you had walked in on Matty that day.

Thankfully when you did open the door, no one but Tim was there, so you said a quick hello to him. He asked how you were, and you told him you were great.

Tim was slightly older than Steve and he was lovely. He always looked out for you all before he left school and continued to make his appearance at Steve’s parties once he’d left.

You then moved on to check the bathroom as you remembered that people used to gather in there and drink the night away. Everyone used Steve’s downstairs toilet for their business and this one just became another room to party in.

As you walked in, you heard laughter that you would recognise anywhere.

Matty’s laugh echoed through the bathroom and you were certain you could hear your best friends giggle too. When you walk around the door, for a second you thought no one was there.

That was until you heard their laughter again. You looked to the side and then see that the shower curtain was pulled across the bath and of course they were both stupidly sat in the empty bath.

You pulled the white curtain back and were met with your best friend and Matty sat opposite ends of the large empty bath. You noticed that your friend had a bottle of cider, like you now had, in her hand and Matty was cradling a bottle of Smirnoff that had a quarter missing from it.

The whole room was littered with glass bottles and it looked like the party had just been in this room let alone the whole house. And you also noted that Matty was shirtless and wearing sunglasses for some reason.

“What you doing in here guys?” You asked, slightly amused at the situation.

“Hey Y/N” Your friend chirped.

Matty didn't bother with the pleasantries, he just answered your question after swallowing a mouthful of vodka, “We were just reminiscing at how people used to just come in here and talk shit getting whilst getting drunk”

“Do you remember?” Your friend asked you and you nodded.

On a few occasions in the past, people had indeed spent the entire party in the bathroom. It was random and you never understood so just left the people to it.

“Yeah, I never really got why everyone did that” You told them as you were never one to actually do it.

“It’s actually quite fun” Your friend told you and Matty immediately agreed.

You smiled at him and asked, “So how are you Matty, not seen you in a while”

A while being just over 4 years.

“I’m grand thank you Y/N, how are you?” He asked pleasantly, putting the sunglasses on top of his head.

You watched as he looked up at you with bright drunk eyes.

You smiled at his dopiness and answered, “I’m great thanks”

“That’s good” Matty said and he went back to his conversation with your best friend.

You started talking to them about nothing in particular and half way through you get a bit bored of standing at a different level than them. So, you decided to squat down at the side of the bath. It was quite comfy in your heels, so you didn’t mind.

“Y/N, why don’t you just get in the middle?” You best friend said, and you just waved it off saying you were alright.

Matty then started, “Y/N/N just get in the fucking middle and be a part of the conversation properly”

You looked at him with wide questioning eyes in response to being told what to do, and he sent them back at you. After a second of looking and neither of you backing down, you did climb into the empty bath with them.

As you sat down in the middle of them, your back ended up being towards Matty and you faced your best friend. You chuckled silently at the situation.

You didn’t imagine yourself at the age of 21 being sat in a bath with your best friend and the boy you used to fancy like mad.

“I can’t see her now” Matty sighs putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you back towards him with a little force. This caused you to fall back and your head hit his abdomen.

“Well this is comfy now” You dryly said, rolling your eyes.

Matty just chuckled looking down at you.

“Sit up” He instructed, and you did as you were told.

The next thing you knew his arm were around your waist and he dragged you back towards him until your back was flat against his chest. As he did this you were trying to suppress a smile.

You did the common ‘what the fuck is going on’ face to your friend and she was failing to hide her amusement.

“There we go” Matty said in a satisfied tone, before making you lean back against him.

You put your head to the left of his and you could just about see his jawline out of the corner of your right eye.

“You surely can’t be comfortable with the taps in your back?” You question, turning slightly to look up at him.

“It’s in my neck actually but it’s fine” Matty corrects you, before taking another swig from the bottle of vodka.

You shook your head and focused your attention back on your best friend in front of you. She had a cheeky smile on her face, and you could tell that she wanted to say something slightly risky.

You sent her a questioning look and she just came out and said what she was thinking. She grinned, “You would have freaked out 6 years ago if we were doing this then”

You send her an unamused glance and took a long drink of your cider. Her grin just got wider at your silence when you kept drinking.

You only stopped when Matty wondered, “What you on about?”

You started to shake your head at her, but she blurted it out anyway, “Y/N used to fancy you in school”

Your jaw dropped with her confession and you actually wanted to tell her where to go. You would never do that to her, you actually couldn’t believe she had just told him.

Bitch.

Not that you still had your crush on him, that died out a very long time ago. Yes he was still good looking now but you didn’t think about him all the time like you did in high school.

“Really?” Matty asked and you couldn’t tell whether his amusement was from the shock of the confession or just general amusement at the situation.

“Really.” Your friend confirmed before pulling out her phone.

You took another long sip of your drink and found that it was very nearly empty. How you wish you had more alcohol.

You sighed when Matty nudged you saying, “That’s fun to know Y/N”

You felt him start running lines up and down your left arm with the tips of his fingers. You didn’t hate the sensation, but you were hyperaware of it and you didn’t appreciate the teasing.

It was usually you doing that, not the other way around.

“Is it?” You questioned, really not amused at your friend.

You looked around the bathroom for anything that stood out, so you didn’t have to look at her. It had really annoyed you.

“Yeah, I think it is” Matty admits before taking another swig of vodka.

The smell of it hung in the air and you really didn’t know how he was stomaching it. Yet you found yourself wanting some to escape your situation.

It was silent for a second or two, not that you minded. You could hear the music from downstairs travelling up through the house and you actually loved the song that was playing.

“So, was this before or after spin the bottle?” You heard Matty ask.

You turn your head back around to look at him and you did so with a confused expression.

“How the hell do you even remember that?” You asked him.

He was completely fucked that night, in both senses of the world. You never thought he remembered.

“Probably the same way you do” He shot back looking down at you.

Being this close to him you could literally see every little detail of his face you once hoped to. 15 year old you really would be having a heart attack right about now.

You could tell he had shaved earlier on today as there was no stubble in sight. You could see all the little freckles that dotted around his face and you could see the brightness in his stunning brown eyes.

You looked at him for a moment and he just stared back at you as if waiting for something.

“So?” Matty pries.

You raised your eyebrows at him, silently asking, ‘what?’

“Was it before or after?” He asked again and you sighed and turned back around to your friend.

She was on her phone still, so you just took another sip of your drink before saying, “I don’t know, probably after”

You were trying to be as nonchalant as possible. You didn’t need to give this guy an ego boost as it was quite clearly big enough.

You felt like Matty was about to say something else to you until you best friend burst out laughing. You both looked at her confused until she turned her phone around, showing you both an old video of Matty and George messing around on the school field.

It was actually quite funny and both you and Matty started laughing too.

“I remember that so well” Matty told the both of you, before wanting a little confirmation, “It was the last day of school, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah because it’s on the park and we all brought alcohol and drank there until like 3am”

“Oh shit, yeah” Matty smiled, remembering the day well. He grins when he continues with, “And I got stuck inside that kids slide for about 20 minutes until Hann found me” which made you start chuckling.

“Shit yeah and it took us all like an hour to get you out” Your best friend said, and you burst out laughing at the memory.

It was so funny, you still remembered it well. It took you all so long because you were all laughing too much, therefore having no strength to get him out.

You went to have another sip of your drink but realised it was all gone. You balanced it on the side of the bath with ease and looked around the room for something else to drink.

All you saw was empty bottles until your eyes settled on the bottle of Smirnoff that was in Matty’s hand. You thought about it for a brief second, wondering if you would actually be able to stomach the vodka by itself.

You just thought you’d just give it a try. After all, this wasn’t your first time drinking spirits straight anymore.

You grabbed ahold of the bottom of the bottle and pulled it towards you. Matty let go of the bottle and watched as you brought it to your lips.

You took a mouthful of it and you would be lying if you said that it didn’t make you want to gag. You forced yourself to swallow it down and it burnt as it did.

You didn’t have spirits straight often. You did it once in your Uni flat with some friends and you were surprisingly okay it just took a while to get used to.

Matty was quite surprised that you didn’t have any reaction to drinking the vodka straight. Even George couldn’t do it straight without having some sort of reaction to it like coughing the first or second time.

And he was shocked that you took another swig after a few seconds as if it was just another cider.

You offered it back to Matty and he took it back from you to have another drink of it himself. You noticed that he had started trailing his fingers up and down the side of your arm again, which you eventually found oddly soothing.

At first you were on edge about it because you hadn’t seen him in so long but after a while you didn’t even notice he was doing it anymore. You had become too comfortable.

You’d probably been sat in the bath with them for about 2 hours when your friend finished her collection of ciders that she’d hid in a box on the floor. At the same time, you and Matty had almost polished off the bottle of vodka and you were now really using him as a pillow.

You were lent back against him as you had been all this time, almost as if he was your boyfriend or something. Matty had also started playing with a few strands of your hair that he kept twirling around his fingers.

You had no idea why, but you were now too drunk to question it.

“I’ll go and get us some more drinks” Your best friend announced which you and Matty both nodded at.

“Grab them outta my bag downstairs, there should be like five, six more ciders in there” You tell her, and she nodded before leaving the room.

After the door slams shut you and Matty don’t say anything to each other for a good few seconds. You end up sighing and then moving awkwardly over to where your best friend was moments before.

Once you lean back against the side of the bath you smile back at Matty. He, however, looked at you grumpily and said, “I’m cold now”

“Put your top back on then” You laugh, pointing towards it hanging off the sink near him.

“No, it’s soaking wet” Matty tells you and lifting it up as proof. It was actually dripping with alcohol like he told you it was when you questioned why he was shirtless.

“Maybe don’t spill drinks down yourself then… You wouldn’t have this problem” You fire back at him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have moved, then I’d still be warm” Matty counter argues, as he pulls the shower curtain back across, hiding the two of you once more.

“I’m not your hot water bottle” You say, rubbing your tired eyes.

Matty mirrors you and started rubbing his eyes as he murmurs, “You felt like one”

You chuckle a little and roll your eyes. Matty looks at you blankly with a hint of sadness to his features.

“Fine, when she comes back, I’ll move back” You tell him and then a smile brightens his features.

“In the mean time…” Matty trailed off before pulling a box of cigs out of his pocket.

You notice him pull out a spliff and a lighter and you smile at him. Nothing has really changed.

Matty lit it up and took a long drag of it. He lent back against the wall and blew smoke out of his mouth as he let out a big sigh of relief. When he opened his eyes backup you smiled at him and he offered it to you.

You had smoked weed more than a few times at Uni with your friends so you didn’t mind it anymore. You reached over and took it from him with a gracious smile.

You take a drag of it and breathe in the toxins. As you inhaled it, you could see Matty watching you curiously and you frowned at him a little.

As you stopped inhaling and took it from your lips, you blew out the smoke. You couldn’t help but ask, “Why the fuck do you keep looking at me like that?”

Matty grinned as he took the joint back from you, “You keep surprising me”

“How am I surprising you by getting high?” You asked before getting the bottle of vodka from him.

You took a swig of it and saw that you were now really nearing the end of the bottle. Jesus, you had no clue how you were still awake after having this much vodka straight.

“You never struck me as the type” Matty told you before taking another drag.

You shook your head at him in disbelief and he laughed at you. He continues to explain, “You always seemed too innocent. Good at school, relatively good at the parties, never got in too much trouble”

“I can’t believe you just called me innocent” You scoffed at him before taking another drink.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and asked, “What? You were”

“Well I’m not anymore” You correct him before taking the spliff back out of his hand and taking another drag.

“Oooo Y/N/N,” Matty said in an amused tone. “What’ve you been up to whilst you were away?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know” You smirked at him before drinking some more vodka.

“I would” Matty sits forwards and reaches for the bottle. He took it out of your hand with ease and you watched as he gulped the clear liquid down.

You started telling him about the different stuff that you had tried out at Uni. It was nothing too extravagant but your stories with your Uni friends were good ones and you loved thinking back over your shenanigans.

Matty in return told you things that he and the other boys had been up to that was similar. Turns out you both got yourselves in sticky situations from time to time. You were passing the weed and the vodka between you as you told each other these stories.

You both found yourselves laughing at each other quite often. That was until you turned the conversation onto the actual band in general.

“So, why did you change the name? Especially to ‘1975’ or whatever it is?” You asked using air quotes.

“It’s ’The 1975’ actually and because I thought it was cool” Matty told you and you held your hands up at your mistake.

He smiled at your actions but then went on to tell you about the book that he’d found the date in.

“I just thought it was cool how he signed it ’The’ instead of just saying the year. It stuck with me I suppose” Matty explains before finishing off the joint.

You nodded as you drank some more. It did sound different and you were sure they would make it work.

You followed up with, “George was saying that a label or something was interested? How’s all that going?”

“Yeah, really good. They want us to record some stuff for them and the we can hopefully start putting EP’s out end of next year maybe beginning of 2012” Matty said sounding very positive and enthusiastic about it all.

“That good, I’m happy for you guys” You smiled. “I told you you’d get there in the end”

Matty frowns as he questioned, “Did you?”

You chuckled to yourself and corrected yourself, “Well I told George”

“Ah, of course you told George” Matty chuckles, before continuing to say something that makes your jaw drop, “I always thought you liked him”

“Are you joking?” You asked him, sitting up straight.

Matty shook his head at you and you watched as his curls swayed from side to side.

“God no, he was like my fucking brother. Fuck that. The thought makes me feel sick” You tell him honestly.

You loved George to death, but you never ever thought of him that way. And you don’t think you ever would.

And you were thankful that it seemed like Matty believed what you were telling him.

You had to ask, “What the fuck made you think that?”

Matty didn’t even have to think about it before saying, “I don’t know, you always came to our gigs and spoke to him afterwards”

“I spoke to you all afterwards” You defend yourself, running a hand through your hair in confusion.

“Well I thought you came to see George” Matty went on to say.

“I came to see you all, you fucking moron. I liked your music and I liked watching you on stage” You told him before getting the vodka back and downing the rest of it.

“Ooo…You liked watching me on stage Y/N/N?” Matty smirked, raising his eyebrows suggestively at you.

“Fuck off, you know I didn’t mean it like that” You shake your head, before playfully throwing the empty bottle back at him.

He caught it with ease, laughing at your actions.

Matty pressed on, “But you did like watching me on stage, right?”

You didn’t even deny it as your head really wasn’t in the right place to by lying at the moment. You were far too intoxicated.

“Maybe a little bit” You chuckled and it seemed to impress the brown eyed boy.

“Knew it” Matty grins before sticking his tongue out playfully at you.

You stuck yours back out at him before remind him, “Only cause I just told you”

Matty laughed at you then, saying, “Whatever” which also made you giggle.

After a few seconds you both went silent before you let out a big sigh. You and Matty had nothing left to keep you occupied.

The drugs had been smoked and you’d drank the alcohol. And your best friend was certainly nowhere in sight to be bringing you anymore.

“I don’t think she’s coming back with more alcohol Matty” You pout at him honestly and you both sigh again.

“Yeah, not looking good, is it?” Matty asked and you shook your head.

“I’ll go grab us the drinks and bring a few up so we don’t have to go back down” You told him before stumbling to get up and drawing back the shower curtain.

You don’t know why Matty insisted on keeping it closed, but you found it easier not to question it.

“I’ll be back in a minute” You announce before leaving the bathroom, making your way down the stairs.

You darted between the groups of people and headed to the back room where you’d left your alcohol. Thankfully it was all still there, and you got out 4 bottles to bring back upstairs with you.

On the way everyone left you alone, which you were thankful for. You were actually having a nice night having a catch up with Matty.

You liked that he really hadn’t changed, and he was still down to earth despite you seeing his Mum and Dad on TV more often. As you were about to climb the stairs again, George spotted you and asked if you had seen Matty.

“Yeah, he’s up here with me” You smile, nodding up the stairs and George started following you.

You led him up and past the bedrooms, to the bathroom and you heard George say, “Oh shit yeah, I forgot people hung about in here”

“So did I until I found him in here” You chuckled, before kicking the door open gently.

But then immediately started laughing at what you found inside. George looked inside as well and you both couldn’t contain your laughter.

Inside you found Matty half in the bath and half lying on the ground next to it. He had somehow managed to contort his body, so his legs were still in the bath and head was lying on the ground next to it.

He now somehow had a bottle of beer in his hands that he was keeping upright and he had those stupid sunglasses on again. The shower curtain was drawn half way closed again and you honestly had no idea how he had managed to get himself into that position.

“What the fuck” You practically squeaked in your laughter and had to rest your back against the opposing wall. George was hanging onto the doorframe for support and you both couldn’t stop laughing.

The noise of your laughter tuned Matty back into the world and he looked at the both of you. “Hey guys” He said with a goofy smile on his face.

This made you laugh even more, and you were now sat on the ground laughing dangerously as no noise was now coming out of your mouth. The only noise coming from you was gasps of air as you were in desperate need for more oxygen.

It was too fucking funny to witness, and you honestly didn’t know how you and George were able to calm down.

When you eventually did and were able to stand up again, you got up and put the bottles from one of your hands under your other arm. You pulled your phone out of your pocket to take a picture of your hilarious view.

That moment couldn’t ever be lost, and you never ever wanted it to be.

“Send me that” George pleaded, and you promised him you would do.

You walked towards Matty and put the bottles you were awkwardly carrying in the sink so you could try and get him up. You looked back towards George and he was looking down at his best friend and sighed.

“You alright mate?” He asked and Matty nodded extending his arm to give him a thumbs up.

To George, however, it looked like a thumbs down which made him laugh again and subsequently you.

“Slap his arse” George whispered to you and you did as it was in the air practically right in front of you.

You did it hard to hopefully wake him up a bit and George laughed when Matty practically jumped out of his skin.

“Y/N, you kinky bitch” Matty said after your laughter died down. He makes you giggle when he follows up with, “I like it”

He looked as drunk as you felt.

You sighed to yourself when George said, “I’ll leave you to sort that out Y/N” and shut the door behind him.

You looked at Matty below you and said, “Come on, let’s get you back up”

After an ordeal of trying to get him back into the bath you finally did after 5 minutes. You filled up an empty beer bottle with water and made him drink it before you both drank anymore.

You at least wanted him to be awake and conscious whilst you talked to him and when you both eventually joined the rest of them downstairs. The whole ordeal had caused you to sober up slightly which you didn’t mind.

After about 10 minutes of nursing Matty to consciousness, you were back chatting like you were half an hour ago.

Turns out all he really needed was a normal cigarette to wake him back up again. You had just taken those stupid sunglasses off him and hung them on your blouse so he couldn’t put them back on.

Matty shut the curtain again once he had grabbed the drinks that you brought up for you both. He cracked the 4 of them open with his teeth and you shook your head at him.

You scorn, “You shouldn’t do that”

“Oh, sorry Mum” He joked and handed you 2 bottles.

You shook your head at his awful joke.

“Fuck off” You scoffed before taking a sip of cider, “If your Mum knew what you got up to at these parties, she wouldn’t have ever let you come”

“I was great, I don’t know what you’re on about” Matty told you with an offended look on his face.

“Oh yeah and you shagging Kayleigh Smith in Tim’s bedroom was something your Mum would’ve been proud of?” You ask, amusement clear on your features.

“Ah god, I remember that” Matty said with wide eyes but you could tell he was laughing at the memory.

“Everyone went crazy about it, didn’t they?” Matty asked and you nodded, taking a drink.

“They did” You confirmed and Matty laughed running a hand through his curls.

“Yeah because it wasn’t even me that told everyone about it. It was Hann” Matty went on. “I never even found out how he knew”

You tried your hardest to not smile or laugh at his statement, but you failed.

Matty saw that you were holding in laughter and asked, “What?”

You let out a little laugh and admit, “Yeah, that might be my fault”

Matty looked at you with a completely shocked expression. His jaw was practically on the ground for a few seconds before he asked, “What the fuck do you mean it was your fault?”

You giggle as you explain, “I sorta told Adam and Ross about it”

“Are you joking? You cheeky bitch” He said before playfully kicking you. The cheeky smile never leaving his face.

You let out a whine at his actions and kicked him back, laughing as you did so. “Ow, you twat” He said laughing to himself before you both broke out into a full foot fight.

You were both fully kicking out at each other and you were both squealing as your feet collided. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at the situation you were in. Matty was also cackling at your antics and you had again forgot how cute his laugh was.

“You’re not gunna win Matty, I’m wearing heels” You say as you continue to kick out at each other.

Matty laughs again and just continues to kick you. You only stop when you were about to kick his dick but he caught your boot before it managed to do the damage.

“Hell no Y/N/N” He said before shoving your boot to the side.

You laughed before leaning back against the back of the bath again and putting your knees back up. It was odd how it was comfier it was to put your feet up with your heels on, rather than stretching them out like you had been doing.

You sat back chuckling and took another sip of your drink before you asked the curly haired boy, “Do you hate me now?”

“Why would I hate you?” Matty asked, before downing the rest of his drink and moving on to the next.

“For telling Adam and Ross about Kayleigh and you?” You asked with a small smile.

You still found the situation funny and thankfully the memory didn’t scar you for life.

“I don’t hate you” Matty promises sincerely before dropping his empty bottle over the side of the bath.

“But,” He added, leaning forwards towards you, “How’d you even find out?”

You closed your eyes and smiled at the embarrassment of what you were about to tell him.

“I may have accidentally walked in on you” You told him reluctantly, before drinking the rest of your first drink.

“Did you actually?” Matty asked completely shocked and you nodded.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t lie about that” You told him taking a sip of your new drink.

“I was looking for Y/B/F and you had left the door open and I accidentally walked in and obviously immediately left when I saw what was happening” You rambled, remembering how uncomfortable you felt when you walked in.

Matty let out a loud laugh and started clapping his hands. You started laughing as well especially when he said “I can’t believe the first thing you did was sell me out to Hann”

“Well what was I supposed to do? Just sit and rock in a corner because I saw you having a quick shag?” You chuckled. “I was mortified. What did you expect me to do?”

“Aw Y/N, you didn’t need to cry because of it. I know you fancied me but there was no need to get upset. I was snogging you two hours later” Matty told you.

You snorted at that comment because of how truthful it actually was.

You laugh, “Spoken like a true fuckboy”

“I’d have fucked you too if you asked nicely” Matty smirked.

“Gee thanks” You chuckle after drinking most of your drink.

“Were you jealous Y/N/N?” Matty asked you and something about the way he said it made the mood of the conversation slightly more serious.

Too bad your drunken haziness didn’t recognise it.

“Oh yeah, big time” You confirm, sarcasm thick in your voice.

“I’m being serious” He said but you could hear the humour in his voice.

You quickly started to see that you were going to get bullied if you told the truth, so you started sinking slowly down the empty bathtub.

“Matty, I was mortified that I’d walked in on you and made Adam promise not to say anything. There’s nothing more to it” You explain before putting your now empty bottle on the side of the bath.

“But you started liking me after that right? So you must have been jealous at some point” Matty pressed on and you just rolled your eyes at him.

“Fuck off Matty” You told him and then he started chuckling.

“What’s so funny now?” You asked, looking over your knees at him.

You face dropped when he commented, “You’re denying what was so obviously true. I can see it on your face”

You reached to your blouse and picked up his sunglasses. You put them on to hide yourself some more as you said, “Matthew fuck off. I was fifteen years old… Yeah, I did fancy you, big deal. Don’t worry, I don’t anymore”

Matty let out and laugh and said with confidence, “Please, you still fancy me now”

“Believe me, I don’t” You said just as confidently.

“Well, you think I’m good looking then” Matty continued and you sighed.

You sank further down the bath and hid behind your knees to avoid him. You didn’t like it when you got embarrassed.

You hated admitting your feelings to people. You liked to keep them guessing.

“Come on Y/N we can go in Tim’s room now, I’m sure he won’t mind” Matty teased and you felt stupid.

“Fuck off” You laugh.

Your back was now flat on the floor of the tub and your head was only being propped up by the back of the bath. You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

You heard Matty move slightly and start chuckling to himself. You just hoped he would change the subject and you could both move on and the banter between you could resume. You didn’t like feeling embarrassed.

You felt Matty’s hand on your right knee and you looked up at him through the sunglasses. He had a smile on his face and it only got bigger as he parted your legs and started crawling up between them.

You held your breath as he did so, especially when you could feel him leaving lingering touches across your body. Was he trying to drive you insane? You just kept quiet and stayed deadly still, wondering what he was up to next.

Watching Matty as he slowly crawled up your body, make your heart beat faster. Before you knew it, his face was hovering over yours.

“Were you jealous of her Y/N/N?” He asked in a deep voice.

When you didn’t reply to him, you saw Matty’s eyes wonder around your features wondering what to do with himself next.

You desperately tried to keep your breathing under control but that often proved difficult when there was a good-looking guy between your legs.

“Did you wanna be under me like this instead of her Y/N?” He purred, his lips brushing your ear before he lent down and started kissing your neck.

As he did so, your fingers laced into his curly hair and you moved your head to the side, so he had more access to your neck.

Your eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss at the situation you found yourself in and your breath caught in your throat. You could feel your heart beating a thousand miles per hour and you couldn’t believe what he was doing. And how amazing it felt.

You were biting your lip to stop yourself from giving anything away, even though your actions were already giving Matty all the information he needed. He moved his kisses from your collar bone up to under your ear and his hands were roaming your body.

All you could focus on was his lips attacking your neck and you could hear was your ragged breath as his actions continued. The music from downstairs was being drowned out by the rapid beat of your heart that was now all you could focus on. Apart from Matty’s actions.

You pulled on strands of Matty’s hair that you had between your fingers as you felt him focus his attention on one spot in particular. You were surprised when you heard him moan against your skin.

Your breathing got heavier as his hands ran down the sides of your legs which were around him and continued to leave teasing touches over body. His fingers then began to roam underneath your blouse and at the waistband of your jeans.

It just confirmed to you that he did indeed know what he was doing, and how to drive you insane. You felt like your skin was on fire and there was no way it could be put out.

As his lips moved to the other side of your neck, you again pulled on his hair wanting more. This time you were greeted with a growl that drove you absolutely crazy.

The noise was one of the sexiest things you had ever heard, and you wanted to hear it again. You were about to tease him again until you felt he started teasing you back by grinding himself against you.

The whimper you realised was something Matty heard and it equally drove him just as insane as the action itself did to you. He wanted to hear it again.

It was no question if he found you attractive or not. He’d been trying his best not to look at your tits that were practically on show for him as that purple top did nothing to hide your gorgeous body.

He cursed the bar that covered you up. Matty wanted you and there was no denying it.

And the way you were pulling on his hair made him think that you wanted him just as much.

You were about to tease him more until he thrusted his body into yours. More friction for both of you there was driving the both of you insane.

“Fuck” You practically moaned involuntarily at his actions and the everything got a bit more heated.

The friction of the lower halves of your body just increased when Matty brought his head back up too so he could see you flustered below him. But the shades blocking your gorgeous Y/E/C eyes were in the way, so he reached up and took your sunglasses off, throwing them over his shoulder.

Matty thought you looked heavenly beneath him and he was definitely not letting you out of his sight for a while.

You heard the glasses clatter against the other end of the bath, but you were too focused on the boy hovering over you. Matty’s brown eyes looked darker than normal to you and his curly hair hung over his head and almost tickled your face.

You could see that his eyes were just as hungry as yours probably were and that this was the point you knew there was no turning back from. For a brief second you both just looked at each other until you pulled on the back of his neck and brought his lips down to yours.

The pace didn’t slow down when you kissed him, if anything it got faster. You wished you weren’t in a tiny bathtub that was uncomfortable.

You wished you were on the bed in the other room like he suggested earlier, and you hated yourself for not agreeing.

Matty tasted like alcohol and the cigarette that he smoked. You could taste your cider on his tongue, and he was addicting. Neither of you could get enough.

You pulled hard on his hair and he groaned like he had done all those years ago. You smirked into the kiss, loving that he was liking what was happening.

After a few minutes of Matty making you completely breathless from his kisses, the way he kept grinding into you, and you probably scaring his back with your fingernails, you changed your positions.

You wanted more room.

You needed more room.

“Get up” You practically moaned when he started attacking your neck again, definitely leaving more marks.

Matty got to his knees and you sat up with him. You made him sit where you had been previously sat and he sarcastically lent back against the tub as he watched you crawl over him.

You straddled his hips and you could feel his excitement though the both of your jeans. You pulled his lips back to yours and you both quickly became invested in each other again.

After more making out you found that at certain actions that you did Matty was involuntarily buck his hips up into yours. Especially when you increased the friction this time and ground yourself down against him. You were a tease and you wouldn’t even deny it.

Each time he did bucked up, it made you gasp for another breath that he just took away because his tongue was inside your mouth. You couldn’t believe you were dry humping Matty Healy in a bathtub at the age of 21.

What the fuck were the both of you?

Matty didn’t seem to be complaining though because he kept on doing it and you certainly weren’t going to. At this point you would only prefer the real thing.

But you could tell that your current situation wasn’t going to be changing because neither of you were going to shag in a bath. So enjoying the friction of your lower halves grinding together was as far as you could go here.

When you weren’t kissing, Matty’s lips were either on your neck or your chest.

You don’t even know when he’d unbuttoned your blouse, but you didn’t even mind when the curly haired brunette was attacking your chest with his lips. If anything, you were surprised he hadn’t taken your bra off yet.

“Fuck” You say a little breathlessly as he left a trail of kisses all over your chest.

After a few more seconds of letting him bruise your chest, you brought his lips back up to yours. Your stomach felt like it was in knots and your heart was beating extremely fast.

You couldn’t quite believe you what you were doing.

You’d came out this evening thinking it would just be a quiet, fun night like old times. You never in a million years thought that you would be in this situation.

After a few more minutes you both started making sloppy moves and just opted to stick kissing each other. You didn’t tease him anymore despite wanting to and Matty calmed down a bit.

You don’t really know why but you’d both started talking to each other again in between kisses.

You assumed it was to distract yourselves because you knew that you couldn’t carry on what you were doing. Someone was bound to walk in sooner or later and demand your presence elsewhere.

“You do this often Matty?” You asked him with humour evident in your voice.

His lips took yours again for a few more seconds until he rested his forehead against yours and breathed, “The kissing… Yeah”

He pecked you again ,“The dry humping… No”

The both of you started laughing at that before your lips collided again. Matty’s tongue went back into your mouth and you couldn’t help the little moan that fell from your lips.

“What about you? You seem to be a pro at it” Matty asked when you parted.

However, you bit your lip and raised your eyebrows at him.

“What? You are” Matty praised and you giggled before kissing him again.

When you pulled away, you felt dizzy and you just spoke without thinking. You moved your hair out of your face and said trying to get your breath back, “I usually just have sex if I’m honest, this is a first”

Matty whined and you were slightly confused as to ask why. Before you could ask, his lips attached to yours again.

You were now certain you’d never get enough of Matty’s kisses, or the feel of his soft hair between your fingers. You’d definitely never tire of the way he moaned against your lips when you gave it a little tug.

When Matty pulled away, you were breathless again and you looked down at the curly hair boy in front of you as he whined, also breathlessly, “You could have said that earlier Y/N”

You started giggling at that and looked down at him. Matty also started laughing and he tilted his head forward until it hit your chest again.

Matty Healy, the boy that you had a crush on for the last few years in high school, was laughing into your tits.

What was going on?

You sort of just looked down at the mess of curls that was in your chest. You started giggling at this, which probably didn’t help Matty’s laughter die out.

If anything, it just fuelled it.

“Fucking hell” You giggled, pulling on his hair so he would move away from them. He looked up at you and you just again just burst out laughing.

The alcohol was obviously getting to both of your heads again and you only stopped laughing when you heard the bathroom door open again.

You both shut up immediately and Matty started fumbling with the buttons on your blouse. It wasn’t really working for him and you had to help him button yourself back up again and you were both silently laughing again.

Before the curtain was drawn back, Matty’s fingers ran through your hair from the very up, as if to flatten it down. It must have been a state because you don’t think anyone had ever had to flatten your hair after making out with them.

You also helped him do that again just in time before your best friend drew back the curtain. You were still on Matty’s lap and your arms were again around his neck.

You knew you couldn’t move because she would have seen Matty’s boner and tease the fuck out of you for it. Matty probably wouldn’t be to impressed either, which is why his hands were firmly on your hips, keeping you in place.

“Hey” Both you and Matty smile looking up at her as innocently as you both could.

It was quite obvious what you had been up to as both of your lips were swollen, and marks probably littered your neck.

She looked down at the both of you with a massive grin on her face “What are you two up to?”

You had a great poker face and could lie your way through anything so you just said “Nothing” You could come up with a lie later if she actually pressed on.

But she looked plastered, so you didn’t think that you’d have to.

However, Matty said, “I decked it before, so I wanted a hug and she’s only just giving it to me”

“Yeah, he keeps making me laugh though” You try covering your laugh at his excuse.

You had never heard a worse excuse other than he wanted the hug.

“Well you know, Matty” You best friend said, and you nodded at her.

You murmured under your breath, “I really do”

Matty heard this and snorted really loudly to try and disguise his laugh. You couldn’t help but start laughing again. Luckily your best friend was headed back to the door and didn’t ask what you were laughing at.

Matty was laughing into your shoulder and you were just laughing in general at this point. Drunk messes, the both of you.

“Hey, are you two coming downstairs now? We’re all gunna play spin the bottle again like old times” Your best friend asked.

“Yeah, I’ll come down in a minute” You told her as you tried to stop laughing.

She says a little ‘yay’ and you chuckled. Matty lifted his head up from your shoulder, “Yeah I’ll come down as well in a few”

“You never know you two…” She said pointing between both of you. “It could happen againnnn” She cooed and you and Matty had to hold back your laughs.

You swallowed your laughter away and said, “It could” You looked at Matty and told him “That would be something, wouldn’t it?”

Matty also had a good poker face this time when he replied, “It really would”

You could see the humour in his eyes and he could definitely see it in yours. He definitely still wanted you, you could see it.

“I’ll see you guys down there” She bits farewell, before the door slammed shut again.

You turned back towards Matty then and shook your head at him in disappointment, “A hug, really?”

“I panicked alright” Matty admits half laughing.

You giggled and asked Matty with raised eyebrows, “You gunna be okay?”

“Yeah” He confirms, amusement clear in his voice.

You put your hands on his shoulder and pushed yourself up off of him. Amazingly, you climbed out of the bath steadily despite Matty slapping your arse as you did so.

Giggling, you turn back towards him once both of your feet were firmly back on the ground. You looked back to Matty’s eyes and bit your lip.

“You gunna sort yourself out before you come down?” You smirked as your eyes flickered down to the prominant bulge in his jeans.

Matty looked up at you and teasingly asked, “You could just sort it out for me?”

He raised his eyebrows at you both hopefully and teasingly, but you shook your head at him with a grin on your lips. You lent over the bath and brought your lips down to his again.

It was a sweet kiss, not hot like it was before. It was different and you just hoped that it would leave him wanting more.

You managed to trap his bottom lip between your teeth and you pulled at it as you pulled away. You smiled down, quite proud of yourself as you could tell from the look on his face that he definitely wanted more.

When his brown eyes opened, he gave you a knowing look and it caused your smirk to grow.

You turned around and winked at him before you made your way out, “Lock the door Matty, someone innocent could walk in”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Taglist: @the-girl-before @friends-dont-lie-asshole

Let me know if I should carry on or if you want to be tagged x

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty the 1975 #matty healy fanfic #matty #the 1975 #matty healy imagine #matty healy fluff #matty healy x you #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 blurb #the 1975 fluff #george daniel #Ross Macdonald #Adam Hann #1975 #1975 matty #matty healy smut

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zdbztumble · 5 years

Text

“Jewel of the Seven Pokemon!” Chapter IV

The writing’s slowed down more than I would’ve liked - this is an insane time of year to be me - but we’re still more-or-less on schedule for Halloween. Who’s ready for some battle action?

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III

FF.Net

AO3

---

The drawing room wasn’t the only set in the soundstage, though it was the largest. All the sets related to the mansion of Jewel of the Seven Pokémon were housed here; the bedrooms, the attic, the kitchens. The production design on all of them was delectable, and under other circumstances, Cilan would have loved to pour over them in detail. At the moment, however, the only thing he was looking out for was any sign of a Cofagrigus, and none was forthcoming.

We really should look into more Pokédexes for our little group, Cilan thought, not for the first time. Not that he needed the encyclopedia’s entry on Cofagrigus to tell him anything, but its scan function might be helpful in detecting their presence. Left to what the naked eye could perceive, all he could discern from the corner of the bedroom set he was inspecting was that the art department deserved commendations for their choice in authentic period bedspreads. Cilan was sure Misty wasn’t having any better luck rummaging through the cabinets behind him. She was really quite good at ratiocination, considering that Oshawott never left her arms and kept trying to claim her attention through hugs, cuddling, and tricks with his shell.

She wasn’t much better than Ash and Iris for patience, though. “Why don’t we just go outside and wait for Ash?” he heard her groan. Cilan didn’t even look up from under the bed, but raised a hand and waved off the notion.

“A detective must make a thorough examination of a crime scene,” he said. “The smallest detail may lead to a critical deduction. Leave no stone unturned, and no tool unused.” He held his magnifying glass to a strange mark on the bedpost; a bit of glue residue, as it turned out.

“Well, I’ve already deduced what tools we’ll need,” said Misty.

“Oh?” Cilan sat up. “And what might – where on earth did those come from!?” His partner was standing in the middle of the room, beaming, with a gold talisman around her neck, a ceremonial teapot in one hand, and Oshawott holding what appeared to be a scroll of papyrus in the other.

“They’re to ward off the spirit of the jewel,” Misty explained. “Here’s tana leaf tea, a talisman from the lost civilization Cofagrigus are supposed to come from, and the Scroll of Life! That one’s just a prop, but all the hieroglyphics on it are authentic.”

It took a lot for Cilan to choke down all the retorts such superstition deserved. She’s more helpful than Mr. Hampton, he reminded himself. The director had – as best as Cilan could understand him – volunteered to serve as a look-out from the drawing room set, then promptly slapped on a pair of headphones and started head-banging to rock music.

“I think we can move on now,” Cilan finally said, beckoning for Misty to follow as he moved behind the set. On an initial glance, the only thing back here was the generator for the soundstage, but it was the one place they hadn’t looked yet.

“You know,” Misty said as they walked, “you wouldn’t be so skeptical if you saw some of the things I have.”

“I suppose that’s a stronger argument than Iris’s ‘sixth sense,’” Cilan replied. “But I repeat – any supernatural event has a scientific explanation, and given the facts we do have, that explanation is likely to be misdeeds by the seven Cofagrigus. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve encountered mischievous Ghost-types.”

“So what’s your scientific explanation for them?” Misty asked, her voice dripping with a sour smugness. Cilan tripped at the question, only just managing to keep on his feet. It was a common comeback to supernatural skepticism, and Cilan despised it – an utterly fallacious, tasteless statement. Of course there was a scientific explanation for Ghost-types! They were a type of Pokémon, after all. Yes, a very simple explanation would suffice for them. And as soon as I think of what it is, I shall return to that subject, Cilan vowed, and kept on walking.

“You traveled with Ash through two regions, didn’t you?” he asked, just to make conversation.

“Three regions,” said Misty. “Actually, I only stopped because I needed to take over the Gym for my sisters.”

“Oh?”

“Mm-hmm. It all worked out for the best, but the day we found out, I was so upset that – ”

There was an unpleasant zap sound, a harsh flare from the work lights, and then black, a total and encompassing black thanks to the soundstage’s lack of windows. “Ah – t-the generator must have b-blown a f-f-fuse,” Cilan stammered, embarrassed by how weak his voice sounded. There was a good reason for the cut-out, surely. Of course, they were quite close to the generator when the lights failed, and there was no sign of anything wrong with it…

“W-Well, w-we were already in the d-d-dark about the case.” Misty’s voice was somewhere between a stutter and a giggle. Oshawott was whimpering, and Cilan felt them brush against his left. “D-don’t worry,” said Misty, her voice strengthening a little. “I’ve got this. Go, my steady!” The flash of a Poké Ball went off. It wasn’t long enough for Cilan to get a good look at the Pokémon, but he could tell it was massive. He hoped it didn’t damage any of the sets.

“Flamethrower, Gyarados!” Misty commanded. “We need some light!” The Pokémon gave a low, agreeable grunt, and a steady stream of flame appeared high above them. It was just enough to illuminate themselves, the generator on the wall, and Gyarados itself.

“What an incredible taste,” Cilan whispered. Even under the circumstances, he couldn’t help but admire Misty’s Pokémon. “We don’t see many Gyarados in Unova. And to have taught it Flamethrower!”

“Not bad, huh?” Misty winked. “But just wait until you see this – Misty calls Starmie!”

“Hyah!” The Mysterious Pokémon seemed to know what its Trainer wanted as soon as it appeared. It took a position, lit up its jewel, and shot a Thunderbolt into the generator. A moment later, the work lights were back up. Misty stood proud with her Pokémon on either side (and Oshawott pouting in her arms.) Gyarados was smiling as well as it could, and even without a face, Starmie gave of the unmistakable taste of pleasure at a well-done Attack. Exquisite! thought Cilan. He wasn’t a stranger to type specialists or to unorthodox move sets, but Misty had achieved something unique with her Water-types. “I have a brother who would fall head over heels for you,” he told her.

Misty laughed and ran a hand through her ponytail. “Of course, the world’s greatest beauty is flattered –”

“Osha?” Oshawott squeaked. He looked up at Misty with big, watery eyes and trembling lip. Misty smiled down at him, pulled him into a tight hug, and nuzzled his face with her cheek. “But you’ll just have to tell your brother I’m taken,” she giggled.

“I see,” Cilan laughed. “But Pikachu is quite taken with you too.”

“It’s a price to pay for being cute.” Misty winked, then gave a small, rather staged shudder. “Even one of Ash’s Bug Pokémon liked me.”

A third one of Ash’s, is it? Cilan tapped his chin with his magnifying glass. While it was a common claim that Pokémon could reflect the feelings of their Trainers, that wasn’t universally true, or a surefire insight into anything. But it was impossible not to notice a certain playful dynamic between Ash and this oldest friend of his. Ash and Iris had their banter and bickering, of course, but not in degree or in kind. This is Ash I’m thinking of, Cilan reminded himself. But perhaps…even if it’s only on her end…

“Misty,” he said. “If you don’t mind my asking – when you call Ash your ‘best friend,’ does that really mean ‘boyfriend?’”

It was a miracle that Oshawott and the supposed curse repellents didn’t go flying. Misty shivered, spun around on one foot, and then went stiff as a board, a furious blush across her cheeks and nose. “W-W-What g-gave you th-that idea!?” she shrieked.

Take your pick. Cilan grinned and tilted his cap to the side. “Well, well…what a curious flavor this is!”

“I – I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Misty insisted. Her blush grew even stronger. “It’s ridiculous, to think that I’d ever…do you hear that?”

“Really, Misty, you’ll have to better than that to avoid your –”

“No, really!” she hissed. “Listen!”

She was right; the whirring sound was back. Above them, to either side around them; even right in front of them, where the generator and a solid wall stood, it seemed to come in all directions except below. And the last time the sound came, there soon followed –

“COFA!” Misty’s tools did scatter that time, as she scurried away from the Cofagrigus emerging from the wall. Cofagrigus plural – there were now three of them. Each had a Will-O-Wisp prepared in one set of hands, while the other reached out with unfriendly fingers.

Misty looked over at Cilan and grinned. “If you battle the way you talk, we’ll be here all day,” she joked. It was quite the change from her nerves when the blackout first came, but Cilan could understand; actually having a foe to face made it easier to feel brave. He gave her a wink back and drew a Poké Ball.

“You forget – you’re not the only Gym Leader here,” he said. “Go forth, my precious Stunfisk!”

“Right!” Misty pumped a fist. “And us too! Gyarados, Starmie, use –”

“Oshawott!” Ash’s Pokémon jumped down from Misty’s arms and ran up in front of the Cofagrigus, paws on his hips and head held high. He spared a moment to look back and wave at Misty, then moved into a battle position. Misty and her Pokémon looked baffled; Cilan shared an incredulous look with Stunfisk.

“Osha!” Oshawott hurled a Razor Shell at the Cofagrigus on his right. He shot Water Gun at the one on his left. And he charged with Tackle at the one right in front of him. The right Cofagrigus dodged the Razor Shell, the left took the Water Gun with little issue, and the center Cofagrigus, being a Ghost-type, felt nothing from the Tackle. Oshawott bounced right off it and landed on his back. He sat up, blinked twice, and took a long look at the Cofagrigus – all of them slowly advancing, Will-O-Wisp still in their hands – before recovering his shell and retreating behind Misty’s leg.

“So that’s what Ash meant,” Misty sighed. “It’s OK, Oshawott. We’ll take care of this. Waterfall, Starmie! And Gyarados, Crunch that one on the left!”

“Mud Bomb, Stunfisk!” Cilan ordered. “Blind them all!”

All three Pokémon moved to carry out their Attacks. Starmie spun to the left, Gyarados reared up as high as he could in the stage, and Stunfisk flattened himself down to the ground. But before any Attacks were let loose, the Cofagrigus on both ends burst open. Out from their bodies emerged two human figures with slick hair, crooked glasses, and business suits barely visible underneath reams of bandages.

“Who are they?” said Misty.

“They must be the missing producers Sir Bela mentioned,” said Cilan. “Anyone who gets too close to a Cofagrigus…”

“…Gets turned into a mummy!” The mummies before them said nothing, but ambled slowly from the bodies of the Cofagrigus. As soon as they cleared the lids, the Pokémon closed back up and their red eyes lit up. A faint blue light surrounded the mummies, and they lifted off the ground, floating in between the Cofagrigus and Cilan and Misty’s Pokémon. They were being used as shields.

“That’s no fair!” Misty growled. “Let them go and fight us yourselves!” The Cofagrigus all gave nasty snickers that stood the hair up on the back of Cilan’s neck. They threw their fire-filled hands forward, and their Will-O-Wisps combined and formed a spinning ring of fire around Cilan, Misty, and Oshawott. The flames were so large and so fast that there was no hope of jumping or dodging through or around them, but that wasn’t much of an obstacle. Even if Misty weren’t at his side with Water Pokémon, Cilan had his Stunfisk. All he had to do was call out for Water Gun, and –

The Cofagrigus on the left moved first. Keeping its mummy between itself and Misty’s Pokémon, it rushed Stunfisk with Energy Ball. Just one hit left Stunfisk down for the count. The second Cofagrigus moved on Starmie, with Ominous Wind. The Mysterious Pokémon was thrown into the back of the bedroom set. Its jewel didn’t go out, but it was clearly damaged. The one Cofagrigus without a mummy flew right up to Gyarados’s face, performed Astonish, and circled around as the Atrocious Pokémon flinched.

“It’s headed for the drawing room set!” Misty shouted. “Mr. Hampton! Oshawott, you need to put these flames out!” Ash’s Pokémon was still holding on to her leg, with his head turned into it. On Misty’s words, however, he slowly let go, waddled out, and used his Water Gun on the Will-O-Wisp. Besides dousing the fire, it created a thick, humid mist that engulfed the remaining Cofagrigus and their mummies. Misty scooped Oshawott up and led the retreat. She recalled Starmie as she ran; Cilan did the same with Stunfisk. A roar and a tremor in the ground told him that Gyarados was close behind them.

They found Mr. Hampton right where they’d left him, in his director’s chair with terrible posture while listening to music. His sketchpad and pen were back out, and he was drawing in large, sweeping motions as if keeping tempo with the music in his headphones.

“Mr. Hampton!” Misty cried, waving her arms to try and claim his attention. “The Cofagrigus are here!” The director looked up, gave a quick wave of his own, and turned back to his drawing.

The Cofagrigus materialized directly above him. Its body opened wide, slammed down upon Mr. Hampton, and snapped shut, spitting the chair, headphones, and sketchpad out. The Coffin Pokémon rattled about violently, fell to the floor, and rolled around the set. Cilan had never seen, nor knew no one who had, a Cofagrigus mummify a person; it hadn’t occurred to him that they could resist from the inside. He started towards the shaking casket. If Mr. Hampton can hold out long enough, and if we can reach him…

The lid swung open again, and Mr. Hampton lurched out, covered from head to foot in black, rotting bandages. The glow of Psychic surrounded him, and he was raised up before Gyarados could make a move. The other two Cofagrigus, and their mummy shields, appeared from the sides, circling around Cilan and Misty to line up with the other, but they kept spread out enough to prevent an easy flanking. It was a difficult and bitter taste they presented, and Cilan couldn’t see a ready way to sweeten the situation.

“Could Gyarados make it past the mummies?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” Misty muttered back. “He would never mean to hurt them, but there’s so little space here, and they’re so fast.” Gyarados gave out a low, frustrated growl. The Cofagrigus laughed again, floated up above them with their mummy shields, and began to form Shadow Balls in their four hands each. With them up in the air, the view of the far wall was clear, and Cilan saw the controls for the loading door.

“Recall Gyarados,” he urged Misty.

“What!?” she hissed.

“For now,” he said. “We need to get out into the open. Recall Gyarados and have Oshawott distract them.” He jerked his head in the direction of the controls, as subtly as he could. Misty’s eyes flicked over that way. She bit her lip, but she nodded, and slowly bent down to pick up a trembling Oshawott and whisper into his ear. He shivered, but when he looked up into Misty’s eyes, he took a breath and nodded himself.

“On my signal,” Cilan whispered. “Three…two…one…”

The middle Cofagrigus swept down toward them, dipping just below his mummy shield. Misty held Oshawott up high, and he fired a Hydro Pump that caught the bottom of the Cofagrigus’s body. Oshawott leapt up and spun around, his Attack drenching mummy and Pokémon. No damage was done, but the distraction was just what they needed. Misty recalled Gyarados to his ball, and Cilan made a dash for the controls.

***

I know we get lost all the time, but how did we get lost on a movie set!?

Ash had been asking himself that for the past fifteen minutes, and he still didn’t have an answer. There were so many twists, turns, drops, and slopes in the cave set that it was hard to understand why the film wasn’t just using a real cave. Mr. Christopher said it was built in a stage with a big water tank, where lots of famous musicals had been shot, and it was drained now so that the cave sets could go downhill and underground. That was pretty cool. And unlike the other stage, all the movie lights were still around for the cave, and they were on, so the set really was a dark, spooky cavern with shafts of pale light and a few red lamps rigged up by the characters in the film. But that just made it harder to get around in the set.

Another thing that didn’t help was that, instead of helping Ash and Pikachu find the right way around, Iris kept trying to get Mr. Christopher to talk about that Dragon Squad from the war he was in. “Did they have Druddigons?” she asked, hovering at his elbow. “What about Noivern? You said you were stationed in Kalos – there had to be Noiverns, right? Did you ride any Noiverns?”

“There were, and I did,” said Mr. Christopher. After everything he’d been asked throughout the day, he was finally starting to sound impatient. “But I’ve told you, young lady, that I was not a member of the Dragon Squad, only attached to them at times throughout the war.”

Iris frowned and put her hands on her hips. “What’s the difference?” she asked.

Mr. Christopher banged the bottom of his cane on the floor. “It means I didn’t have the eyesight to be a proper dragon rider,” he snapped. “I served as an intelligence officer for the GAF, and as I’m gifted in languages and connections all over the world, particularly in Kalos, I was seconded to units like the Dragon Squad to assist with –”

“Wait – intelligence officer?” Ash spun around. “I know what that means – that’s spy stuff, right?” Those were some of Ash’s favorite movies – the big action films with gadgets, secret agents, and crazy Pokémon battles. He’d met a few people who were into that kind of work in his travels, but it was always amazing to hear more about it. “Did you go on any secret missions?” he asked Mr. Christopher. “Did you use your Dark Pokémon to steal messages and sneak around enemy lines?”

“Did you fly any Dragon Pokémon on your secret missions?” Iris asked. Axew was sticking out of her hair, eyes wide, and Ash could feel Pikachu’s toes curling with excitement on his shoulder.

Mr. Christopher let out a long sigh, looked both ways, and leaned down. “Can you keep a secret?” he whispered.

“Yes!” Ash and Iris hissed back. They were both on their toes, and Ash balled up his hands into fists. Mr. Christopher raised up one hand, his index finger held high.

“So can I,” he said simply. Iris slapped a hand over her face and fell over, and Ash fell right beside her. “Now may we please get on with this – this – is that whirring sound back again?”

“Huh?” Ash pushed himself back onto his feet. “Yeah…yeah, it is.” It wasn’t the same as in the other stage, though. The noise was still muffled, but it was definitely coming from just one direction, straight ahead. “C’mon, Pikachu,” Ash whispered. “Let’s check it out.”

They tiptoed down the path. The gaps in the plaster rocks that let in “moonlight” disappeared the further they went; everything they could see was from the red glow of the lamps. The path ended in a solid wall of rock, but Ash could just make out, about seven feet above his head, an opening rimmed in red light. The whirring sound was strongest just below it, and Ash could hear another sound – a soft, steady chant of “cofa, cofa, cofa.”

That’s gotta be it, thought Ash. I could get the drop on them if I could figure out how to get up there. Let’s see…Snivy has Vine Whip. She could pull us up, but I don’t see anything she could grab onto to pull herself up. But maybe – “OW! Iris, what are you doing!?”

“Shh! You want them to hear us? Now hold still.” Iris pushed down hard on the back of Ash’s head, put a foot on his back, and pushed herself up until she was standing on his shoulders. Pikachu snapped at being knocked aside, and Ash bit down hard on his tongue to keep from shouting. His knees started to shake, and he put a hand on the rock wall to keep himself steady.

“This isn’t fair,” he hissed. “I want to see too!”

“Quiet!” Iris tapped the side of his face with her foot. “There’s three of them. The Cofagrigus – they’re all together, circling around something. I can’t see what.”

“It must be the jewel.” Mr. Christopher came up beside them. Even at his height, he couldn’t quite see into the opening, but he released Shedinja, who floated up to be level with Iris’s head. “That part of the set is where the ceremony is conducted in the story. There should be an opening in the top, with a light to represent the star that awakens the sprit inside the jewel.”

“I see it,” Iris reported. “And it’s not just the lamps making that light – the thing they’re circling is glowing red too.”

“Are there any signs of Bisharp?” asked Mr. Christopher. “Or any other Pokémon?”

Is there any sign of a way up? Ash wanted to shout. I can’t hold on much longer…

“No…and I can’t see anything that would be making that sound – HEY!” Ash couldn’t keep steady. He stumbled forward, fell on his face, and winced as Iris landed on his back. “Ash!” she snapped, poking between his shoulders. “I was trying to see what’s going on!”

“Well, I’m not a ladder!” Ash hissed back. “Or a chair, so get off!”

“You are such a kid!”

“I am not!”

“You are too!”

“Quiet!” Mr. Christopher’s voice was quiet, but that somehow made its anger even clearer. Ash bit down his next comeback, and Iris rolled off him. Mr. Christopher gave them a cool look, then pointed to the opening with his cane. “Shedinja, I want you to slip inside there and have a good look around. Stay invisible and keep to the shadows. See if you can find where that sound is coming from, but most of all, look out for any sign of Bisharp.”

“Shedinja.” The Shed Pokémon gave a nod with its entire body, then vanished. Ash shook his head and sat upright, Pikachu claiming a spot in his lap. I guess this counts as spy stuff, he thought as he scratched Pikachu’s head. It would’ve been nice to be able to see what Shedinja was up to, but it was still cool. I wonder if Mr. Christopher had Shedinja in that war he keeps talking about? He said it wasn’t an actor Pokémon. That probably wouldn’t matter to Misty, though; she’d still be scared of it.

Ash wondered how Misty’s search with Cilan was going. She knew more about all this stuff, and Cilan was…well, Cilan. If they didn’t have the whole mystery solved by the time everyone met up outside, then they’d at least have a clue or two. If they don’t get caught up in all their movie talk, anyway. I’ll probably have to go see this movie with one of them, if it ever gets finished. Ash still couldn’t get over that ending Misty told him. How was it supposed to be romantic if, at the end, the heroine ended up –

It came up from the floor, without a sound. The Cofagrigus threw its four arms out, seized Iris, and threw her into its open body before she could even scream.

“Hey!” Ash sprang to his feet and caught the lid of the Cofagrigus before it closed completely. “Give back my friend!” Pikachu cried out and grabbed the lid as well, from the base. Together they pulled as hard as they could, but the body was straining against them, heavy as a rock, and slick in Ash’s grip. He could hear Iris banging and kicking on the inside. “Don’t worry, Iris!” Ash grunted. “We’ve got ya…”

“HERE!” Mr. Christopher moved fast for an old guy. He spun his cane around and swung the silver Zacian head so that it caught between the lid and the body. He pulled back on the stick like a lever, and the Cofagrigus started to open up –

“COFA!”

Three loud cries all sounded together, and something small and hard flew from the cave opening into Mr. Christopher’s chest. It was Shedinja, out cold. The three Cofagrigus who had been circling the jewel floated in from the opening, each with a Shadow Ball ready. The one on the left hurled the Attack at Ash, catching him low in the stomach. It was like winter air made into a solid ball, with all the cold soaking inside him. He fell and rolled back until he hit the side wall. Pikachu was small enough that the Shadow Ball struck his entire body, and he slammed right above Ash. Mr. Christopher managed to dodge the last one, but he had to let go of the cane, which did take the Attack and spun through the air until it struck Ash on top of his head.

The Cofagrigus they’d tried to open slammed all the way shut. Its three fellow Coffin Pokémon circled around it, facing outward, with another set of Shadow Balls ready. Ash could see the middle Cofagrigus thrashing around, and he could hear Iris’s muffled yelling. But he could still hear the whirring sound too, an awful mechanical whish-whish-whish-whish, and it was spreading to fill the whole set…

The three guard Cofagrigus floated up and out, and the one in the center swung open. Iris stumbled out, her arms outstretched, her half-shut eyes rolled back in her head. There were bandages wrapped around her from head to toe. Axew was sticking out of her hair; he was wrapped up too, with the same rolled eyes.

“Iris!” Ash moved towards her, but a hand took him firmly by the elbow and pulled him back.

“We have to get outside!” barked Mr. Christopher, as he recalled Shedinja. “We need light and space to fight them!” Ash didn’t want to run, or leave his friend, but he couldn’t argue either. He scooped up Pikachu, gave Mr. Christopher his cane, and followed him down the path.

The Cofagrigus and the Iris-mummy were following – Ash could hear their awful laughter, and Iris’s moaning – but he didn’t look back. Now that they were being chased, Mr. Christopher seemed to know the way around the cave set. They went left, right, left again, up, down, around an arc and through a tunnel. A Shadow Ball went past Ash’s shoulder and just missed Mr. Christopher. A nasty howling sound came with a sudden breeze that nearly took Ash’s hat off – Ominous Wind, it had to be. The set lights started to flicker on and off. “I don’t even want to see this movie,” Ash muttered. “How’d I end up in it!?”

Another left, another right, another right again, and up a sloping path. There were more Shadow Balls, and a spit of blue flame that nearly caught Pikachu’s tail; one of these Cofagrigus knew Will-O-Wisp. The laughing and moaning were getting closer, the whirring sound louder. They couldn’t make it – they weren’t going to make it –

“A-ha!” the sunlight hit Ash like a slap in the face, but Mr. Christopher took his arm again and pulled him through the side door. They spun around to face the stage (a little too quickly; Ash felt dizzy) but instead of following them outside, the Cofagrigus just laughed again and pulled the door shut.

“Hey, what are they up to!?” Ash yelled. “Give back Iris, you creeps! We’ve got to save my friend, Mr. Christopher!”

“Let’s find your other friends first,” he said. His hand was gripping his cane tightly, and his breathing was heavy; all that running must have taken a lot out of him. “They should be out here by now.”

Ash looked all around. “I don’t see them. You don’t think –”

“CRUNCH, GYARADOS!”

They came from around the far end of the stage, down the alleyway. Ash slumped down onto one knee, and Pikachu had to push his jaw shut. He couldn’t help it, though; seeing three Cofagrigus, with mummies floating around them, making a quick retreat from a snarling, slithering Gyarados with Misty, Cilan, and Oshawott on its back, was just too weird.

#z's fics #pokeshipping #halloween #pokemon: black and white #ash ketchum #misty waterflower #cilan #iris #fan fiction

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idreamofhazel · 6 years

Text

All Work, No Play

Requested by @murielthemagicalgirl: Reader crushes hard on Sam and works from time to time together with the boys. And she's introverted and a usually mature and serious person. But when she accidentally sees Sam without his shirt she gets hella flustered and awkward and Dean grins from ear to ear and teases her because of it until she confesses maybe that she indeed likes his brother, not knowing that said is standing behind her

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: just fluff

Your machete sliced cleanly through the neck of a falling vampire. As the body thumped to the floor, you drug the blade across your jacket with two quick swipes.

“You’re going to need some tide pens for that.” Dean Winchester stood behind you, chuckling to himself.

A quick glance around the room showed you that the last of the nest was fallen. The bloody mess had splattered and pooled on the victorian rug beneath your feet. There might have been some pieces of salvageable furniture elsewhere in the house but none in this room. Four dead vampires had stained the parlor with red. It was very Addam’s Family meets The Walking Dead. You picked up the arms of a vampire who fell across the velvet footrest and drug it across the floor. You dropped her on top of the one you just killed and headed for another one.

“What’s up with the pile? Or vamp-ile, if you will.” Dean couldn’t contain the pleasure he derived from coming up with that joke.

You dumped another body in your pile. Out of the corner of your eye, Sam knudged Dean with his shoulder and began to help you with the clean up task. When you thought no one could see your face, you smiled to yourself. You appreciated the help.

“I never knew a hunter that could smile about their work like that.” Dean was suddenly beside you, his voice in your ear.

“I never knew a hunter that cracked so many jokes on the job,” you said.

“Jokes keep the sanity alive, sweetheart.”

“Dean,” Sam chided from across the room.

“She’s worked with us enough times to know my style,” Dean said.

“And you’ve worked with me enough to know mine,” you shot back.

That elicited a smug smile from Sam.

Your cheeks grew hot as Sam looked at you with pride. Your cleverness was instantly cut back. No matter how confident you were, one look from Sam turned you into a stuttering mess.

“I know you won’t come celebrate with us,” Dean said, “All work, no play. It’s really sad.”

“I’ll go.” You faced the opposite direction of the Winchesters, bagging a vampire head. You could feel their wide eyes on the back of your head.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to take your notes or, or clean your knives?” Sam didn’t mean his question as a jab.

You smiled at his memory of your habits before turning around. “No. I’ll just do it tomorrow. Come on,” you said, slipping your knife into your boot and throwing the garbage bag full of heads over your shoulder, “It’s time to have some fun. Let’s party. Or whatever you do.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance as you walked out the stained glass door. The tattered blanket covering the glass gave up and fell to the floor as the lock clicked into place. Dean mouthed Fun?; Sam shrugged. Sam had never seen you with a drink in your hand, let alone in a bar. The thought of it made him worry that something else was going on. He’d have to ask you when Dean wasn’t around.

Being in a bar was an uncomfortable experience. You could handle hunting challenges with tact and grace but the dynamics of the drinking scene disoriented you. You alternated your attention between the stray threads on your shirt and taking sips of your jack and coke. Dean played pool for gas money while Sam sat next to you, finishing his second beer.

“So, honestly,” Sam said, “What made you decide to come out here? You trying to prove something to Dean?”

His smile was teasing and overwhelming.

“Uh, no. I,” you began, your cheeks growing hot, “I guess I-”

“Hey Sam!” Dean called out. You both turned your heads to the sound. Dean motioned Sam over from across the bar, “New game! Teams!”

“Hold that thought,” Sam said apologetically.

He took off towards the pool table, leaving you with the rest of your answer hanging on the tip of your tongue. The Winchester Pool Games lasted as long as Dean felt a winning streak. You’d have to explain another night, whenever you ran into Sam and Dean again.

You sucked your jack and coke dry, staring down the barrel of the straw until the last drop was gone. Dean whooped behind you. Maybe it was time to join the fun.

You grabbed a handful of peanuts, swung around on your stool, and hopped off. Sam was leaning over the pool table, the arch of his back displayed gracefully. He adjusted his pool stick with deliberation, his shirt hovering over the edge of the table, his hair falling over his cheek. He hit the cue ball with accuracy, sinking in two of the opponent’s with one strike, then stood proudly.

The other two men grimaced, unaware that Sam had such precision. There was a fair amount of money on the line.

You wandered over to a table with a satisfactory view of the game. Sam winked at you as one of their opponents tried to sink a ball but grumbled when he missed. The alcohol in your system gave you the sense to smile back with a laugh.

The stolen glances continued and ended when Dean declared victory with a sunken eight ball. They had played four games and won each of them. Sam bought three victory beers and handed one to you. Your eyes fell to the floor as the confidence you had wore off.

By the end of the beers, exhaustion had creeped up on all of you. You unanimously declared the night over, getting up to leave the bar in unison. Dean grabbed your shoulder from behind before you reached the door. Sam kept walking.

“Hey, you’re staying at the same motel as us, right?” he said, glancing over as Sam walked out the door.

“Yeah, why?”

“Can you come to our room? I wanna talk to you about something. I’ll send you a text when we’re decent.” He added a smirk but his request seemed off.

“Uhh, sure.”

“Cool.” Dean patted your shoulder then let his hand fall as he took off after Sam.

He left you standing in the middle of the bar without an explanation but with a hoard of questions. A deep voice slurred from across the bar. “You all alone now?”

There could only be about two reasons why Dean would ask you to his room. One, he was going to play a prank, or two, he or both Winchesters had been keeping a secret from you that had life-or-death ramifications.

The voice called out again. “He-eey you wanna drank I sayd?”

You were in the mood for none of it. You stalked out the door, letting it bang loudly behind you. Dean, or both, would hear it from you if one of them had decided to do something stupid again like sell their souls.

The text came shortly after you brushed your teeth and changed into sweats. You knocked four times on the thin, wooden door and waited. Dean took a long time to answer for someone who was expecting a guest.

The door flew open and instead of Dean’s face, Sam’s bare chest greeted you.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?” Sam said.

“I, uh, Dean said he’d be here, but I guess I, I heard wrong. Sorry.” You kept your eyes anywhere but on his freshly showered six-pack. You noticed his pajama pants were plaid but you had to be careful where you looked there, too. You looked up but darted when you met his eyes. Then you moved down to his feet. They were bare.

“You can come in and wait for him if you want.” Sam was acting nonchalant. Way too nonchalant.

“No that’s ok.” You turned on your heels and fled.

Well that was stupid! Could you have handled that situation any more poorly!

“Hey Y/N!” Dean.

You stopped next to a row of vending machines, the light from their displays revealing Dean’s smug face.

“You said to meet you in your room. I went to your room. You were not there.”

“Well I’m here.”

You glowered at him. “I think you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do.”

You threw back your head and sighed. “You knew Sam would be there by himself.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because he was shirtless when he opened the door!”

Dean chuckled to himself. “I can’t say anything about what Sam chooses to do when I’m not there.”

Your cheeks grew hot again. “That’s not the point!” you sighed, “I can tell by the look on your face that you orchestrated this whole set up.”

“Set up for what?”

“You know exactly what.”

“Ooh, because you have a massive crush on my little brother?”

“Yes! Fine! Ok? And you knew he’d be there, probably shirtless, and you knew I’d answer the door completely unprepared and make myself look like an idiot!”

“You didn’t look like an idiot, Y/N,” Sam said.

Sam.

You spun around. Now he wore a gray t-shirt paired with his sneakers and a facetious grin.

“Why are you here!” you cried.

He chuckled. “I wanted to get a snack.” He gestured towards the machines.

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head. “I didn’t really know what was going on.”

“So you don’t actually have a massive crush on me?”

“Well I-”

“Because that would be disappointing,” Sam said. His eyes never wavered from your face.

Your heart picked up speed as if it were going to fly out of your throat and the butterflies in your stomach felt more like a flock of hummingbirds.

Sam reached his hand for your elbow and pulled you close. You didn’t protest.

“I’ve actually waited a long time to do this,” he whispered to you.

“Me too,” you breathed out.

Sam responded with a beaming smile before his lips met yours. The kiss wasn’t perfect; there were nose bumps, but it was everything you imagined it would be. You melted. Sam was a great kisser.

“Uh guys, I’m still here,” Dean said.

Sam didn’t stop so neither did you. You wiggled your arm out of his hold and waved Dean off. This is what he wanted after all, for you and Sam to finally admit your feelings for one another. How it was happening was all his fault really. You felt Sam smile against your lips and you mirrored him, putting your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, basking in the glow of an off-brand soda machine and a blinking vacancy sign. Having fun was the best decision you ever made.

Tags:

Everything: @akshi8278 @amanda-teaches @angelus320 @atc74 @authoressskr @bambi95-blog @because-imma-lady-assface @blanketmadeofstar @brewsthespirit-blog @britney8793 @cutedictionary @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @feelmyroarrrr @frenchybell @growningupgeek @gryffindorable713 @hexparker @holyfuckloueh @impala-dreamer @its-not-candy @jayankles @jesspfly @luciisthebest @megansescape @mjdoc90 @mogaruke @moonlitskinwalker @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrswhozeewhatsis @nightmaredean @oneshoeshort @pizza-boy-cas @seenashwrite @shamelesslydean @sis-tafics @skybinx-blog @spontaneousam @super-not-naturall @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @there-must-be-a-lock @waiting-to-find-myshadows @wordstothewisereaders @itsthesamegametoday @mereka18 @sea040561 @french-the-llama @calaofnoldor @hanginwithmanerds @sadist-fangirl232 @serienjunkiegirl @covered-byroses @lostnliterature @un-autor-anonim

Oneshots/Drabbles: @blackfandomtrashandproud @lipstickandwhiskey @wildfirewinchester @pjofangirl18 @aubreystilinski @starry-chaos @namelessflorence @coffee-obsessed-writer

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester oneshot

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nudelipislife-boldlipisliving · 7 years

Text

WinterProjectPanCheckin#2

SOOOO I didnt post for the beginning of February, or March, especially since Feb was so short and I was sick for a total week, which really cut into my makeup usage, because I didnt feel like i had made enough significant process on Item. Instead to share my progress when I had some.

Primers: Becca Back lit Priming Filter,

FINISHED!!! Sorry no empty picture- I just needed it off my desk!! It got to the point where I was scooping out product with a silicone brush, and i cant get anymore out.

For now I dont think I am not going to repurchase, with the warmer months approaching I dont need dewiness.

Foundation: Josie Maran Argon Oil Foundation, Dynamic. I cant actually tell how much foundation is left in the bottle, its soo think that it wont settle.

I’ve been working long hours and wearing powder foundation which lasts longer on me. I am going to try mixing it with mattifying foundations again to see if i can get through a bit more of it before I have to retire it for the spring&summer.

Concealer: LA Girl Pro Concealer, URG it looks soooo bad on my skin. Iv been using it all over my face just to get rid of it and it settles sooo badly.

***Its gotten sooo bad that I just threw it away!! I looked like I had scales for skin!! I AM SOOO DONE WITH THIS CONCEALER!! and my foundation looks a million times better!

Concealer#2 NAR Creamy Radiant, Vanilla. FINISHED!!!!!! I couldnt get anymore out of the tube, sooo bu-bye!!

I will definitely repurchase i love this concealer but I have two more in the wings, and a couple I want to checkout.

Powder: MAC Mineralized Skin Finish Natural, Light Plus;

I have used this twice🙄I over extended myself with this!! maybe with a different foundation underneath.

Powder: MAC Studio Fix Foundation Powder, N3

I hit MAJOR PAN!! BACKUP is on the way!! yay

I like using this powder with the Josie Maran Foundation to neutralize the yellow, since I run cool toned.

Blush: MAC 2016 Holiday Peach Face Palette

some movement, I can see the embossed knot design- I think it might have hard-pan, unfortunately.

However, the plastic pans in this palette keep fallen out, so im going to depot them- which is a shame.

Bronzer Physicians Formula Butter Bronzer,

I hit PAAAANNNNN!! Fucking FINALLY. im going to continue using it, probs well into May/beginning of June, depending on the weather

Highlight MAC Beauty Powder, Sparkling Rose (DC)

I have retired this in my PP **please continue reading to find out my replacement😉

Brows Anastasia Beverly HIlls DipBrow Pomade

decent amount movement, less then half left

LipLiner MAC Lipliner, BarleyBare- some movement,

Its getting ReALLY hard to get a good grip on it now though

EyeShadow UPDATE

MAC Cranberry***miss written for 2 months, its actually called Falling Star- little to no movement

MAC Frost White DONE!!!! I was Sooo fucking tired of this thing that I started using it as highlighter

MAC Antiqued-havent used

35om Morphe Palette, 1st shade in the palette &MAC Blush (repressed) Baby Don’t Go:: There was soooo little of both that I repressed them together

MAC Satin Taupe some movement

MAC Amber Lights some movement

ADDITIONS

Highlighter: MAC Its a Stike Collection Pearlmatte Face Powder, Trophy

I tried depotting the powder, but it broke, so i repressed it. i split it into two pans, that are smaller than the original pan, so im hoping to go through the pan pictured, it has the least amount of product- hopefully i can go through it before the summer begins

EYES MAC PRO Eye Palette- “The Romantic”

I havent used it much but I do want to incorporate the product into my rotation

#makeup #makeupartist #makeupblogger #makeupaddict #makeupandbeauty #beauty #beauty products #beautyblogger #projectpan #projectpanning #MAC Cosmetics #tartecosmetics #shapetape #nars cosmetics #nars #AnastasiaBeverlyHills #abhcosmetics #abhbrows #abh

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queenscrownvn · 7 years

Note

Since Ive seen so many of this type of ask lately it made me want to give it a try hope you dont mind (o^^o) How would the LIs be with MC who has reckless tendencies (eg if she saw bandits attacking someone shed instantly go and help), is horrible at taking care of herself (will pretend nothing's wrong and keep working even if actually injured/sick) and will let people say/think w.e they want of her but is protective of people she cares about Uh is that too specific or not specific enough..? ^^;

Yes, I’m loving these, actually (though I hope you guys realize that I’m just having some fun and giving my opinions on best matches. Even the ones that seem less compatible are still possible in most cases, depending on your choices!)…

And this sounds just specific enough! :D

Teiran would likely be the best match for her. He thinks determination, drive, and fearlessness are all very attractive qualities, and being in a relationship with an MC who is reckless about their own safety would likely bring out Teiran’s protective and caring side for the better… He’s used to being the reckless one in a relationship, so the role-reversal would give him a bit of perspective. At the same time, he’d be willing to back up MC’s ventures as a sort of partner-in-crime rather than just let her go off, guns blazin,’ like Noah would, or wring his hands about it, like Emry or Des. xD He’d definitely be the most understanding and accepting of her, and even if he strongly disagreed with her neglecting her own needs to help others, he’d have her back.

Noah would likely come in second place, but YMMV… He’d enjoy her fearless streak and the fact that she’s willing and capable of defending the things she cares about. He’d also be ready to support MC at the drop of a hat if she ever got into a situation where she needed his help physically. The thing is, though… his views on what behaviors are risky might be a little unorthodox. He comes from a society where people are routinely mauled to death by bears, so he might not recognize MC is in danger until she’s on the ground, unconscious (and the risk of her overworking herself might not occur to him at all). Depending on your view, this could be a good thing or a bad thing. He won’t treat MC like she’s made of glass, but he would trust in her capable/competent persona too much to be able to quickly bail her out if she ever found herself in real trouble.

Emry - This MC might be the literal death of him. His hair would turn white prematurely, at the very least. It would be impossible for him not to care about an MC who gave up so much of herself for others, but he would make it his mission in life to see that she balances this drive with taking care of herself as well…. whether she wanted his interference or not. This combination of reckless MC/overbearing Emry would likely turn into a very contentious relationship that might actually be a lot of people’s cup of tea (in which case, feel free to bump him to the top of this list), especially since the love he’d feel for her would be no less than that he felt toward any MC… YMMV, but I don’t know if I’d consider this as healthy a relationship as Teiran’s, or even Noah’s, in the long run.

Desmond - Admires selflessness in all forms. As a public figure and as a symbol, he would be in awe of this MC, but as a person, he would be a wreck, worrying about her constantly…Being in a relationship with this MC might be a struggle for him, especially since he’s the type who would immediately retreat if MC brushed off his attempts to try and take care of her. How well this romance would work really depends on how stubborn the MC was in her ways, and whether or not she allowed him to be her support when she needed it. He wouldn’t insist, unlike Emry, and if she was hurt or overworked herself to the point of illness, he’d take all the blame on himself. Something would likely have to change in their dynamic for this to work out long-term…

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queenieschronicles · 7 years

Text

Vide Cor Meum

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: What would a man do to protect his family, wealth, and business? Marry his daughter off to Birmingham’s most ambitious: Thomas Shelby.

Word Count: 2760

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

Part II Part III Part IV

You threw a smile over your shoulder as the two Carrol brothers said their goodbyes and promised to be back tomorrow. You waved and closed the door behind you. Before turning to face your father, you adjusted your dress and put on a straight face.

You took a seat across from him. You pressed the warm cup of tea to your lips. Your father gave you a peculiar look; you smiled at him with your eyes. He folded his newspaper and set it on a silver tray standing by.

“Have fun in the gardens?” He inquired.

You nodded, playing with the hem of the white tablecloth. You were always entertaining neighbors. Where young, single girls lounged about, young, single boys came to seek fun.

“Emma and Jane truly are wonderful company.” You took a bite of a biscuit.

He sat back in his chair,” Yes. Well, we have business to discuss.”

Your brows furrowed. Business was usually left up to him and his board. You couldn’t even pretend to know what this was about.

You remained quiet and let him collect himself. You wondered if someone had died or maybe one of your sisters had had another child you were to be the godmother to.

“You’re going to marry Thomas Shelby.” He stated firmly.

Your head tilted forward. You gave your father a look of disbelief. You expected him to start laughing and reveal his big joke. Instead, he held his good posture and the look of solemnity.

“The hell I am!” You protested.

“You are of age, (Y/N). I’m not waiting for either of the Carrol boys to ask for your hand. Besides, you have a duty to this family.” He took a drink of his tea.

“Is that what you told Cornelia and Victoria when they were getting married?” You glowered.

The dynamic between you changed. It was no longer diplomatic. You watched as your father set the cup down and shift to face you straight on. You knew what was coming next. He wasn’t going to ask you nicely. He wasn’t giving you an option.

Anyway, no one defied Thomas Shelby and lived. Your father wouldn’t be the first.

“Your sisters married in a timely fashion. You’re taking your time. Well, the clock is ticking and it has finally chimed. Thomas will be coming for the party tonight. In fact, it’s been set up as your engagement party. You’ll be married tomorrow.”

You gave an obedient nod in reply. Removing yourself from the table, you exited into the hall. You climbed the stairs feeling as if you were weighted down by lead. You entered your bedroom and sank against the door when it shut.

You always imagined growing old in this house. You never had plans to marry. You would always have companions. There was no need for a husband. The quiet country life of Highbury was all you needed.

Then Thomas Shelby happened. You hadn’t even remembered the last time you’d seen him. Perhaps it was London or it was Cheltenham races. You hadn’t a clue. You only knew that your father and Thomas Shelby had gotten along infamously. You had danced with him. You had been hit on by his brother John and complimented graciously by Arthur. You remembered his stoic, stern features and his ability to hide what he felt. You remembered your sisters being head over heels. He was also the only man who had ever made you feel like you didn’t hold all the cards.

You stripped yourself on your way to the bed and sprawled out. You thought yourself into a deep sleep to which you wouldn’t wake until the maid came to fetch you for dinner. You promised to be down shortly.

You slipped out onto your balcony in your robe to check the weather for the evening. You slid your hands along the smooth stone until you were flattened against it. You smiled as the fresh air filled your lungs. Nothing could compare to this bliss.

“You’re going to catch a cold wearing that.” His voice was smooth and smoky.

Your heart leapt wildly. Your eyes widened. You caught him looking over from the balcony over. He had one hand in his pinstripe pants and the other held a cigarette firmly. You hadn’t expected him to be here already.

You pulled your robes tighter around you feeling terribly naked.

His striking blue eyes took in your bare legs and followed the curves of your body to your face. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

You hadn’t remembered him looking so handsome.

“You see, the cold already took your voice.”

You scowled. “I can speak just fine thank you.”

A flicker of amusement lit his eyes. He drew a short inhale of his cigarette before ashing it over the side of the balcony.

“As for your concern of my health, I’ll be just fine. I’ve been out here in far less and survived. And if it’s the exposure you’re worried about, you’ll see far more of me when we’re married.” You retorted.

A self-satisfied smirk highlighted his strong cheekbones. “I’m looking forward to it.”

A knock on your door caused you to jump. You closed the balcony doors behind you as you went to answer. It was your mother to fetch you for dinner. She brought you a pale pink dress for dinner and the party. It had an overlay of lace and fringed at the bottom.

She left you to get ready. You freshened up and applied lipstick to your lips. You approved of the reflection in the mirror and left for dinner. All the eyes on you made you a tad uncomfortable, but you held your head high and strode to the empty chair next to your sister.

Thomas regaled a triumph in France and a time before the war. You listened vexed as your sister praised him for his courage. You busied yourself with your food.

“How do you like your room, Thomas?” Your father asked taking a drink of his scotch.

“It’s charming. It has a stunning view.” Thomas watched you over the brim of his glass.

You choked, your spoon clanking against the bowl. Everyone’s eyes were on you. You gave an apologetic smile and took a drink of water.

You stared at him. He smiled back at you. Your family carried on talking about the marriage and the plans for the wedding. You and Thomas drowned them out. A silent conversation ensuing between you. He was so sure of himself. You were no threat and that bothered you. You promised to be a challenge. He wasn’t so easily deterred.

“Where are you thinking of holding the wedding?” Your mother cut in.

“There is a church near the house I bought us that I thought might be nice. I was going to wait to share the news, but I was hoping we could have the reception at the house after the ceremony.” Thomas smiled pleasantly.

You watched him with scrutiny. He was self-assured and charming. You could see why people were entranced. He had sharp cheekbones and striking eyes that stood out from his dark tresses. He was polished and mannered. He didn’t look like a boy from the ash and soot streets of Birmingham.

You slid into self-preservation as the wedding conversation continued. You wanted nothing to do with it. You were relieved when Weston came in to announce the guests were arriving. Your family began to stir from their seats. You were at the door when your father stopped you.

“(Y/N), Thomas will escort you.” He reprimanded subtly.

You waited until Thomas offered you his arm. You took it, gently letting your fingers curl around his arm. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear,” You look beautiful tonight.”

“I didn’t earlier?” You pressed.

An urbane chuckle sounded from him. You glanced at him catching the beautiful smile he wore. You refused to warm up to him. It wasn’t going to happen. You would allow yourself to think he was handsome.

“Beautiful is only one way to describe how you looked earlier. Other words come to mind though: seductive, wicked, appetizing…” He whispered.

Your lips upturned deviously.

You took your time introducing Thomas. People were surprised and congratulatory. Many wasted no time in expressing their shock that Miss (Y/L/N), would ever get married.

“You’re behaving better than I expected.” He handed you a glass of champagne.

“I was told to move to Hollywood. They said I’d make a brilliant actress.” You took a sip.

A minor twitch in his jaw betrayed the amusement he felt. That and his expressive eyes which were softer than you were used to. He knew he would have his hands full with you. This marriage wasn’t going to be what he expected.

Thomas noticed someone approached from the corner of his eye. It was a burly man with blond hair. He had broad shoulders and soft brown eyes. Thomas noticed your smile become soft and wide. He narrowed his eyes on the stranger.

“Elliot Carrol, I didn’t think you were going to be here tonight.” You took the hand he offered you.

Elliot pressed a kiss to the back.” Miss a (Y/L/N) party? Leland and I could never do that. Besides, we heard the news.” His brow quirked in curiosity.

Thomas pressed a hand to the palm of your back. You released Elliot’s hand and pressed yours to Thomas’s chest.

“This is Thomas Shelby, my fiance.” You swallowed the word. “Tommy,” you crooned,” this is Elliot Carrol.”

Thomas looked down at you and then to Elliot. He shook his hand,” It’s a pleasure, Elliot.”

Elliot nodded,” It truly is. How long have you known our (Y/N/N)?”

Thomas smiled, his hand wrapped around your hip, pulling you into him. “I’ve known her for years. I met my (Y/N/N) when we were teenagers, then again in our twenties, and most recently in London. We’ve a long history. I’ve always known she was going to be mine.”

Elliot’s fists tightened. The two men sized each other up. The tension rose instantly. This wouldn’t be your mess if you weren’t the one getting married.

You laughed to diffuse tension,” Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. I’ve always been such a handful.” You leaned into Thomas and squeezed his shoulder. His hand tightened around your waist possessively.

Elliot smiled at you. You watched him with tender fondness.

“You are a delight, (Y/N).” He watched the band start up over his shoulder. He offered his hand again,” As old friends, may I have this dance?”

You felt Thomas tense beside you. You watched Elliot feeling those old feelings you always had. The Carrol brothers had been your neighbors since you were roughly seventeen. They had been nothing but kind and fun. You spent many days here and there listening to them tell tales and talk of life.

Momentarily, you forgot you were to be married tomorrow.

You took his hand and he whisked you right out of Tommy’s grip. His hands replaced Tommy’s, but they were familiar and warm.

“Just one dance.” You decided mostly for yourself.

Thomas’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowing on the bumbling oaf and you –his fiancée – dancing with said oaf at your engagement party. Thomas didn’t share. He wasn’t going to share you with any man. He downed the rest of his champagne and watched you carefully.

You laughed, leaning closer to Elliot. He made it easy to be comfortable. He made it easy to have fun. You smiled over his shoulder until you saw Thomas. Everything blurred except for him. He stood crystal clear in a three-piece looking like the grim reaper.

You were inexplicably drawn back to him. Your grip on Elliot’s shoulders weakened. You tried to offer Thomas a smile, but he just watched you. You rested your head on Elliot’s shoulder to hide from him.

The music slowed. You pulled yourself back from Elliot. You felt an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Tommy might have been partially right about your history. You couldn’t stand the thought of marrying him. Or maybe you couldn’t stand the thought of marrying your equal. Elliot went to grab your hand again when Thomas reclaimed it.

“Excuse me, Elliot. I’m going to steal my girl for a dance.” He pulled you into him.

You went willingly. Your arms automatically reaching his shoulders. You stepped into him with ease. His hand flexed possessively on your waist. You leaned your head on his shoulder and focused your eyes on his white dress shirt.

“What is Elliot to you?” He studied the crown moldings of the room and the baroque wallpaper.

Your grip on his hand weakened. He tightened his, reminding you not to let go.

“He’s a neighbor.” You answered softly.

“Is that all?” He pushed.

“That’s all.”

His hand hooked around your waist, his finger splaying. You closed a nonexistent space between the two of you. Your hand moved farther up toward his neck.

“I won’t share you.” He didn’t skip a beat.

“You won’t have to.” You murmured quietly.

The two of you danced in a tranquil silence. You pondered why you disliked Thomas so badly. He killed people. He was a criminal. One of the first times you met him he had dirt on his nose. You tried so hard to remember why you didn’t want anything to do with him.

“You can’t see Elliot anymore. Or any other man pining after you.” The music died.

You stepped back to look up at him. His eyes were dark. There wasn’t a hint of amusement on his face or a glitter of admiration. His jaw was taught. His lips were pursed. His blue eyes were calculating.

As if dancing could make you forget who you were, you narrowed your eyes.” I’m not just business Thomas. I’m a person. You’re not going to tell me what to do and who I can and can’t see.”

For show, you entertained the room with a curtsy and you walked away. You wanted no part in this. You had been perfectly fine being an old spinster. You were happy to marry off all your nieces and nephews. You weren’t going to have a man tell you what to do.

Thomas caught your arm in the vacant hall. The force jerked you around until you were looking at him.

“You don’t get to walk away from this.”

You tore your arm away,” Watch me.” You turned and marched up the stairs.

He was hot on your heels.

“You’ve been given to me.” His tone hushed.

“I’m a fucking human, Thomas, not a damn mantel piece.” You shot back.

“Would you fucking listen? This marriage wasn’t won in a poker game.”

“Oh no? Was it forged under some blackmail? Maybe some laundering or threats.”

You turned a hard right when you reached the top. You could feel him closing in. He grabbed your hand this time and yanked you to the side. Your back hit the wall. A dull pain reached into your shoulders.

Thomas pressed your waist back and supported himself with one hand on the wall. “You think I would do that?”

“What else then if not?”

“I’m making a good business. I may not have the cleanest hands, (Y/N), but I didn’t force your father’s hands. I didn’t threaten him.”

You held his gaze waiting for some crack in his lies. All you saw was a solemn honesty.

“We’re getting married tomorrow whether you like it or not.” He stepped away from you.

“This is business, Thomas. Just like John and Esme. So, why? Why marry me?”

Thomas looked at you,” Some questions are better left unanswered.”

He began to walk away. You stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest.

“Don’t you walk away from me! Tell me!”

He lifted your hand,” Go to bed, (Y/N). It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

You sank back, retracting your hand. You glared at him and stomped to your bedroom. You immediately felt like a child throwing a tantrum. He was so composed and put together. You burned with embarrassment.

You stripped down and put your pajamas on. You sat at your vanity and stared at yourself. It finally hit you that you were going to leave all of this. Tomorrow you would be in a new house with no one but your husband. That, in itself, was the strangest idea.

You brushed through your hair and crawled into bed. You squeezed your eyes shut hoping tomorrow wouldn’t come.

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