#the cuts to outside where you hear how drunk and off tune they are reminds me of drinking with my own friends lmao

[griffintail]

Bedroom Confessions

Summary: After waking up from a night of drinking (Y/N) and her helper confess a few things. (Part 2 to Drunken Care and Cuddles) 

Requested: Yes by @exorcisms-with-elmo​ 

Pairings: Wilbur, Technoblade, Awesamdude x F! Reader (Separately, In-Game)

Warnings: Hangover?, mentions of drinking, Swearing

A/N: Phil was not included because I already made them dating so I just did these three. Thank you for requesting! Hope you enjoy! ♥

        Wilbur

        It took a while but Wilbur was able to go to sleep. Everything just felt so right and it was a comfortable warmth but eventually, he managed an hour or two of sleep.

        The peaceful slumber was cut short though as Wilbur jumped at the sound of his son’s shout that woke up him.

        “Sorry! I was just looking for you! Come back later!” Fundy quickly said before closing the door.

        Wilbur rubbed his eyes as he tried to wake his groggy mind. Why would Fundy be looking for him…? Right, there had been a party last night and Wilbur was known to get drunk but he hadn’t last night. He had been glad to because…

        His eyes snapped down to see the woman groaning as she woke up after Fundy’s shouting.

        “Why the hell were you…?” She started to call as she kept her eyes shut tight to fight off the hangover but stopped, feeling something off.

        This didn’t feel like her bed…

        She reluctantly opened her eyes and looked up to meet the face of a bright red Wilbur, her own face heating up rapidly as she jumped back. Her head pounded at the fast movements but she couldn’t help it right now. Why the hell was she in a bed with her new president?! The same guy she had a crush on since she first met him!

        “I’m sorry.” He told her quickly. “You hadn’t gotten drunk last night and since you didn’t have a home right now, I brought you here. And I tried to sleep in the front but you didn’t want to be left alone.”

        “Oh god, what did drunk me say?” (Y/N) thought as she tried to form words.

        Wilbur stood up on the side of the bed, nervously running a hand through his hair.

        “I’m so sorry sir.” (Y/N) finally said, wincing at her headache. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother to you.”

        “It’s alright, I was more worried about making you uncomfortable in the morning.” He told her before clearing his throat. “I’ll be in the front of the van if you need anything. There should be a few potions in the chest to help the headache too.”

        With that, Wilbur let himself out of the room, no one else in the van now. Because no one was there, he put both his hands on either side of his head.

        “Alright, don’t freak out again.” He muttered to himself. “Just act normal. Not like you slept in the same bed as her and don’t even know if she likes you…Damn it, stop!”

        Meanwhile, (Y/N) tried to calm down the redness spread across her face as she stood up. She spotted her coat and hat on a chest and she put them on before digging through the chest. There was a spare health potion and she took a small drink of it to lessen the pain in her head, the potion unable to fix it completely as that wasn’t its purpose.

        As she stood there adjusting her hat, she desperately tried to remember what she might have said last night. She remembered starting to drink with the others as they all cheered and celebrated. Wilbur told everyone he just wanted to enjoy their new freedom. Everything else was fuzzy.

        Wilbur had taken her to a place to sleep like the true gentleman he was and even procced to put up her drunk self. It made (Y/N) smile softly, reminding her why she liked Wilbur before she frowned about what she might have said that she can’t remember.

        “God, I better not have something stupid.” She muttered before taking a deep breath and walking away.

        Wilbur had distracted himself, cleaning up the mess that had been created of the chaos from the final battle. When the door opened, he saw (Y/N) and gave her a smile.

        “You ok love?”

        “Yes, Mr. President.” She smiled back, putting her hands behind her back.

        If he was acting like normal, maybe she didn’t say something embarrassing.

        “Please, I’d like it if you still called me Wilbur.” He told her, a light blush back on his face.

        “Oh, alright Wilbur.” She nodded slightly.

        He put the things he had in his hands away properly, (Y/N) shifting on feet before helping to tidy a few things as well. After he put the things away, he adjusted his jacket nervously. Now was a better time than any, before they both had to work and Wilbur had to deal with the men outside.

        “I…I wanted to talk about you some things you said last night,” Wilbur said.

        (Y/N) froze and gave him an embarrassed smile. “Oh god, what did I say?”

        Wilbur once more ran a hand through his hair as his nerves shot up. “When—When you asked me to stay…you told me you loved me.”

        (Y/N) went bright red as she stood up straight, hiding behind her hands. “You’re joking right?”

        Wilbur melted, she looked so adorable like that and his mind lost all thought for a moment. “I—No, love. You said that.”

        “I’m so sorry Wilbur. I shouldn’t have ever drunk last night.” (Y/N) started to ramble as Wilbur came over to her.

        He took her hands and moved them from her face.

        “Calm down darling.” He muttered. “I told you that to simply ask you, did you mean it?”

        Wilbur stood nervously as (Y/N) ducked her head, before nodding.

        “I do like you, ever since we first met.”

        His heart swelled and he smiled widely before tilting her head up to kiss her forehead, causing the woman to freeze. His nervousness flooded away knowing that it was true.

        “Well then let me tell you that I fell in love with you since you told Dream to fuck off right to his face.”

        “Really?” She breathed.

        “Would I ever lie to you love?” He chuckled and she shook her head slowly. “Good, now that we have that sorted, would you give me the honor of being L’Manberg’s first lady?”

        “…I’d be honored President Wilbur Soot.” She smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Technoblade

        “…what the hell are you doing in my bed?” Technoblade heard, groaning at being woken up.

        He opened an eye to see (Y/N) squinted at him to avoid the light and having just woken up herself.

        “You were being stupid last night.” He said simply before closing his eye again.

        Neither was embarrassed by the situation of being in such a position. They’d both deny it to their grave, but there had been times when they were scared or needed comfort and both were their own comfort friend as they had been best friends for years now. They had fallen asleep like this before, though not in a while as both had started to develop feelings for the other, neither noticing as they were as dense as bricks.

        “What does that mean you damn nerd?” She huffed.

        “That’s my line.” He pushing her away from him but she avoided his hand and sat back on her own, rubbing her eyes.

        “What happened last night?” She asked.

        “You got drunk.”

        “Yeah, I can kind of tell by my headache. But that could be because of you.”

        He opened his eyes slightly to give her a glare, which made her smirk.

        “But seriously, what happened?”

        “All of you had a party, I stayed out of that.” He told her. “I didn’t know you got drunk so easily but you did. You became sickly nice and Tommy tried to scam you while you were.”

        “That little prick.” She glared at the door.

        “We’ll deal with him later.” Techno waved his hand. “After, you wouldn’t leave me the hell alone and had me stay with you.”

        (Y/N) blushed lightly at that but turned away, not looking at Techno as he closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to bring up what she said yet, his thoughts still fried about it. She was drunk, she couldn’t have meant it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make fun of her for it without directly telling her.

        “Well, nothing too embarrassing.” She muttered.

        “I mean, you were pretty stupidly embarrassing.” He snorted quietly.

        “What does that mean?” She threw up her arms.

        “You told me to not tell Technoblade a secret.” He told her, not giving her the whole truth.

        “Oh my god.” She put her face in her hands. “What secret?”

        “I mean, if I talk about it, technically I’m telling Technoblade.” He shrugged.

        “What leap in logic is that?!” She exclaimed, wincing at the pain she caused her head.

        “Don’t hurt yourself.” He cracked an eye open again, watching her. “And technically, I’ll hear if I say the secret out loud.”

        “Well, I already said it to you, you jackass.” She rubbed her temple. “So, tell me.”

        He looked to think about it before shaking his head as he finally got up. “Nah.”

        “I fucking hate you.” She groaned, laying down on her bed.

        Techno paused at the door, thinking for a moment before deciding to just say it.

        “No, you love me. Oops, guess I heard.” He smirked at her trying to play it casually, making her sit up quickly, face bright red.

        “I did not say that.” She tried to call the bluff.

        “Sorry nerd, you did. You were drunk though so…”

        She played with her shirt and he stayed where he was.

        “…did you hate that I said it?”

        Techno stood there watching her. It was obvious that she did mean it. That her word had been true and matched his emotions. He debated his next words as the voices were telling them how soft it would make him, how she was already in the way because she was his friend and too nice to be with the blood god, how he should keep his mouth shut.

        “No, I didn’t. I love you too nerd.” He told her; his face deadly serious as (Y/N) looked up in surprise.

        “You mean it?”

        “Do I lie?”

        “You try, but you’re terrible at it.” She admitted.

        “Heh?!”

        She giggled, and his expression softened at the sound.

        “So, how about we leave Wilbur to mope with his hangover with Tommy and we go back to sleep?” Techno offered.

        “That sounds fantastic.” She agreed and Techno came back to the bed.

        He laid down and she nuzzled into his side. Running his hand through her hair much like he did last night. They were both content as Techno rolled his eyes at the voices changing their tune and calling him a simp.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Awesamdude

        Sam was a pretty light sleeper, so he wasn’t surprised that he woke up to (Y/N)’s movements as she got up first.

        “Hey.” He greeted her before she freaked out.

        Didn’t work, she jumped and would have fallen off the bed if not for Sam’s faster reflexes. He caught her arm and pulled her to sit on the bed.

        “How…What are you doing in here?” She questioned in surprise, wincing as she held her head.

        “Hang on, I’ll get you a potion and I’ll explain it to you,” Sam told her before getting up.

        He went to his bag, taking out a spare health potion. Handing it over to the woman, she took a small drink of it to help relieve some of the pain. It wouldn’t take it all away but it would be enough to at least function in the morning light.

        “Usually, you just drop me off if I have too much to drink, what happened?” She inquired.

        “Well, what do you remember?” He asked her in turn as he sat back on the bed.

        “I don’t know, it’s kinda fuzzy.” She muttered as she handed the potion back and he put it down on the floor. “I remember sharing a few with Ant then I think we started a few games?”

        “Yeah, that’s how the party started. Ant convinced you to yell swears across the room to annoy Bad once you were both pretty drunk but I stopped you after that. After that, you were actually pretty clingy.” He teased.

        “Bull.” (Y/N) tried to call his bluff. “You always whine about how I won’t listen to you when I’ve had too many.”

        “Yeah, that’s the usual case, that wasn’t last night.”

        “I don’t believe you.”

        “Well, how do you explain me being here instead of my own house?”

        “Well—I—I was just crazy drunk and you wanted to keep an eye on me.” (Y/N) blushed slightly in embarrassment.

        She couldn’t believe in her drunk state that she clung to the best friend she had started to develop a crush on.

        “It wasn’t bad though,” Sam assured her with a grin. “You called me super smart and a great fighter after all.”

        (Y/N) groaned as she put her face in her hands. “Bet that boosted your ego.”

        He shrugged. “You also said how it would be nice to stay with me forever.”

        “What were we doing?!” (Y/N) threw up her arms.

        “We were just taking you home.” He laughed.

        “God, I’m never getting drunk again.” She muttered.

        “There was one more thing,” Sam told her and she fell back on her bed.

        “What did I say?” She huffed.

        “Well, I’d like if I could look at you when I told you.” He said, all his teasing gone.

        He felt a spike of nervousness as she sighed while sitting back up. Hopefully, she’d repeat what she said last night.

        “What?” She asked, meeting his eyes.

        “You…You said you loved me.”

        She went bright red as he could feel himself getting warmer.

        “I’m so not drinking ever again.” She ducked her head.

        “…did you mean it?”

        She fiddled with her hands before nodding. “I do love you. You’re just…so fantastic.”

        He smiled widely as he went over, crouching down, (Y/N) glancing at him.

        “Well good, because I love you too.”

        She hugged him and he laughed hugging her back.

        “You should probably rest up and I need to go take care of Fran,” Sam told her, smiling into the top of her head as he was so tall. “But I’ll come back later and we’ll go on a date?”

        She nodded, grinning into his chest.

        He was so happy she truly meant it.

[writingsfromhome]

Sorry x Rare

A/N: I got two lyric requests for Sorry by Beyonce and Rare by Selena Gomez. They were both sort of two sides of the same coin so I wrote them together it mostly goes from rare to sorry. Thanks for the requests, fingers crossed it lives up to what you wanted! <3

Synopsis: You and Harry have been together for a long time but he’s not the same man you fell in love with anymore.

-----

I move my dinner around on my plate, my gaze on the man pacing outside the restaurant on his phone. My man. But it didn't really feel like that these days. These days, Harry was a stranger to me--late nights, phone calls interrupting dinner, waking up to find him gone and not even sure if he'd come home at all.

I watch him remove the phone from his ear in a rush, stare at it, and then shove it aggressively in his pocket. He walks back in, cheeks pink and huffing.

"Should we ask for the bill?" He sits down in a flurry. I stare at his barely-eaten meal and my own dinner mashed to bits.

"We've barely had dinner."

"Babe, we've been here for over an hour since..." he takes his phone back out to inform me of how much time exactly but something must catch his attention because his sentence dies on his lips. I stare, he was so distant lately. "I'll drop you off at home, I've got to meet the boys they decided to talk business-"

"It's 8pm on a Thursday," I state the obvious. "Can't you catch up with them la-"

"This isn't an argument Y/N," Harry finally looks at me. He was done discussing it. He lifts his hands to the waiter and a minute later dinner's been paid for. He wasn't my baby, I think as we stroll outside to his car. I don't know who this man was.

***

I wake up the next morning with the weight of Harry on the other side of the bed. I could smell him, the booze sitting in his pores.

“Ugh,” I groan, not wanting to smell that first thing in the morning. I get up and start my day before I head to work. Soon, Harry appears squinting as I stir sugar into my coffee.

“I need a coffee,” he says, his voice hoarse. It used to sound sexy but now it was just another reminder that things changed. We lived like roommates and it hurt that he never wanted to talk. Half the time, he acted like I wasn’t even there.

I watch him settle with his coffee, taking the first sip and letting out a deep breath. A memory comes to me suddenly, the first year we were dating,

“I think this is the best coffee I’ve ever had,” it was the first night Harry had stayed the whole night and I’d made him coffee in my outdated coffee maker. It came out burnt half the time but that morning’s cup was decent. We’re swaddled in my blankets--the room I rented back then had poor circulation in the winter.

“I think you’re still slightly drunk,” I lean my shoulder against his and cup the warm drink. “I’ve definitely had better coffees.”

“Maybe coffees are just better the morning after,” he says, glancing at me and I know he can see the flush on my cheeks. He knew I was shy talking about certain things in the light of day.

“We can say that,” I mumble into the cup. “It’s just nice to have a heat source.”

“Here,” he takes the cup from me and reaches over to put both on the nightstand.

“Hey I wasn’t done with that.”

“I know but if you’re cold, I know this other heat source--it even works for hypothermia.”

His statement causes a blood rush that warms me already but I don’t say no to what he has in mind. I could make us another cup later.

Harry catches me staring when he looks over and raises an eyebrow. I snap out of my thoughts and twist my lips into a smile, looking back at my own drink bitterly. Who was this man in front of me? Out loud, I ask: “How was your night? You came in late.”

“I was out with the boys.” he says in a tone that meant he didn’t want to talk about it. “It got late.”

“A text would’ve been nice,” I say, still looking at my cup.

“S’not like you were waiting up,” he turns to walk back towards the bedroom.

“Learned not to,” I mumble but I know he’s heard me with the way he pauses. But he didn’t care enough to argue, dispute it, nothing. He leaves.

***

"Guess who just made a commission that's more than I used to earn in a year?" April walks into the small office, an infectious grin on her face.

"You sold him on it?" I put away the file I'm working on and jump up to hug my friend.

"I had to flirt a little--give him a vivid picture of what he could have there, and he signed! I'm bloody brilliant."

April was my American ex-pat who I met when she was looking for a flat a few years ago. And now here she was, working for me at the small real estate office I managed with a few other people I considered friends.

"Do you know if he was single?" I tune back in to hear Janelle asking.

"No, don't give her bad advice!" I scold Janelle. “We don’t date clients.”

"I'm miserably single," April pouts. "I'll take advice even if it’s bad."

"Bad advice is to stay with your college sweetheart to the point where you're not sure he even cares about you." I say to no one in particular. It was just us in the office today, and they knew everything about my life so I didn't care much. But the pin-drop silence that follows is different. I look up to see my friends eyeing each other. "What?"

"Nothing." They stay tight lipped but I push and they crack. "Well, so...we know things are rocky between you and Harry..."

"Things aren't rocky," I clarify. "They're just...nonexistent."

"Right," April slides closer. "Soo, we saw him at the club yesterday."

I raise my eyebrow, "He told me he was meeting up with his boys."

"Oh!" They sound surprised I know, but they look at each other again so I push them. "He was...there was a girl? Sitting on his lap for most of the night? Like, nothing happened I don't think so?" She turns to look at April at the end of each sentence.

Personally, I feel gut-punched even though I suspected this. I knew he wasn't where he said he was going to be sometimes, or with who he said he was going to be with. But he cut our own dinner short last night to be with strangers yesterday? I grip the pen in my hand.

"Y/N honestly...you know we love you and support you. But, you're a special girl and you deserve better than that sod."

"Yeah," Janelle puts her hand on my shoulder. "You're a gem Y/N. There's someone else out there who's gonna see how rare you are."

"I know," I blow my cheeks out. We'd had different conversations like this before, although never this direct. I guess we'd never had direct proof of what my husband was doing until now though.

"He's an idiot not knowing you're so rare," my friends try to comfort me. I feel my eyes well up and I swipe at them. I wasn't going to cry at work but they must sense the tears because they excuse themselves, "We're going to get you a tea, and some pastries to celebrate April's sale. April?"

I keep my face buried in my hands as they leave, take a few deep breaths. "I am rare," I say to myself but even that makes me laugh bitterly. Harry and I had been together for 5 years and here I was trying to count up all the reasons we should stay together when he didn't even care. He was out with other women, and I was waiting around for him.

"I'm rare," I say again. "I'm special, I deserve better. I...deserve better."

When will u be home tonight? I text Harry before I lose my nerve.

Busy he says. That’s it. And then, Why?

What time? I ask again.

8 or so, he responds.

Okay, we need to talk then. I put my phone away, too scared what he might text back. A tear falls from my cheek onto my keyboard, landing on the letter H. It mocks me. I wipe it off, and before I can think about what I'm doing I smash the letter down with my fist. I stand up and walk to the back of the office, a window overlooks the busy street. I'd had enough, I decide. Fuck Harry.

I’m not sure how long I stand there stewing, but my friends walking in with pastries and tea ends the emotional boiling pot from overflowing.

"Thanks," I take the cup from them.

“So we were talking and...” April looks at Janelle and she nods. “You should come out with us some time. Like...tonight. Dance with us, with other people...”

“I...I’ve got something at 8,” I come up with an excuse. As angry as I was, I wanted to have this conversation. It was long overdue.

***

I check my time again, the last text Harry sent me Ok. But it was 8:25 and Harry still wasn’t home. I’d give him five more minutes, I decide. I’d already tried to ring him with no answer.

I stare at the ring on my finger, it was supposed to symbolize a promise he made to me. What a fucking joke. I should’ve never said I do in the first place.

Was it young love, I wonder. Did we do this too fast and we were just set up to fail? But I remember the good memories, the soft and sweet times between us.

“I-I’ve never done something like this before,” I tell Harry. “I hate heights.”

“Listen,” he crowds around me, blocking my view of his friends who are walking up the narrow trail like it was any old walkway. “You go in front of me, I’ll have my hand on your back the whole time. I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

I look up into those gentle eyes and swallow my fear. “Okay.”

“I promise it will be so worth it,” he gushes, his excitement uncaged now that I’d agreed. “There’s no lights there so the stars are so bloody bright--I know you’re going to love it!”

I can’t help it, my lips crack into a smile at his boyish excitement. He catches it and pauses, a breath in this whirlwind of a night. What started out as a house party turned into a walk to a local beach which turned into a hike into the woods and up a precarious--and very steep--ridge to get to an isolated lookout. Only with Harry did I find myself in these situations. And I loved it. I loved him, I realise then. My expression must change because he tugs on my hand, probably worried I’d change my answer.

“Walk ahead,” he instructs and I nearly tip toe on the ridge that’s at least 30 feet across. But his steady hand on my back pushes me gently and I walk across confidently until I look down 2/3 of the way. I freeze in place but Harry’s ready. “Y/N, you’re safe here. Look at me-look...”

I crane my neck and he grounds me, oh my god how did I just realise now how in love I was with him? He squeezes my hand, asks if I was okay. I had to be, I couldn’t stay stuck in the middle.

Inch by inch we finally make it to the other side and I jump off with a yelp which sets Harry off in a burst of laughter. Pretty soon he’s lifted me over his shoulder and carries me to the lookout on the edge. My feet had been through enough, he’d said.

And he was right--it was so worth it; the view with all the stars laid out. The buildings and their light pollution below were blocked out by the outcrops and it made the stars twinkle in all their glory. It made it the perfect place to be with the person I loved.

“Isn’t it the most incredible view?” Harry whispers in awe behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“I.....I have no words apparently,” I laugh and turn in his arms. “Thanks for pushing me, this...it was worth it.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ears and gazes at me in a way that makes me want to squirm. But I hold his gaze.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks with a smile.

“Compared to the view,” I glance behind us. “I guess I’m alright.”

“No,” he guides my face back towards his. “This view over that one, any day. M’just that lucky.”

My words die on my lips as I’m overwhelmed by this feeling between us, the one I thought would keep us together like this forever.

He raises an eyebrow when I go silent and I shrug, “I’m all out of words today.”

I close my eyes as he kisses my temple. I turn back around and we spend the moment in silence, drinking in the view. His friends chatter around us but they’re background noise. My life felt like a movie right now.

Before we leave as a group, I tug Harry back. This was a good as place as any to tell him. I press my lips to his, and it takes him a second but he’s kissing me back. Before it can get carried away I push away and tell him what I’d been thinking all night, “I love you.”

He takes a step back, and then he’s grinning and pulling me back. “I love you! I love you listen, I’ve been wanting to say that for weeks!”

“Weeks?!”

“Yeah weeks! My sister said it was too soon, I might scare you off!”

I think about a few weeks ago, I was intensely shy around him even then. Maybe she was right, but the idea that he talked about me to his sister makes me flush. I wrap my arms around his waist “I just...this moment is so perfect. I never want it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to.” he’d promised. “I’m yours forever Y/N.”

When 8:30 comes and goes I call April, she lets me know where they were. “We’re so happy you’re coming! Are you sure you don’t want us to meet you somewhere else?” she shouts into the phone. When I tell her I just wanted to be where they were she reminds me to text them when I was nearby.

I have to dig into the back of my closet, past the pantsuits I wore to work, the casual dresses and loungewear. I still had some of my old party clothes, just a bit tighter than they used to be. But for where I was going, it would fit in.

Before I leave, I take a pen and scrawl a note: “Great talk"

My friends spot me as I walk in. The music is instantly too loud, the lights too bright, and there are too many people. But one of my them shoves a drink in my hand and pretty soon it’s the best place on earth. It was exactly where I needed to be. I turn off my cellphone and enjoy myself.

After a certain point, I don’t even know who I’m talking to, but pressed up against a body, feeling wanted, it drives me to keep dancing all night. Eventually, I crash at April’s and don’t roll out of hers until 11 the next morning. Harry’s barely an afterthought until I’m tucked in the taxicab taking me home and turn on my phone. 8 missed calls, 2 voicemails and 13 texts.

I’m shocked at the volume, Harry hadn’t blown up my phone like this in over a year. I listen to one voicemail: “Where the hell are you? I come home an hour late and you’re bloody gone with this stupid note here. Pick up! I’ve called you a billion times.”

I stare at my phone, I hadn’t heard Harry this passionate since...well it was a long time. And all it took was going out late and not answering his calls, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It almost makes me angrier; I had to partake in this juvenile dance to get his attention, even though we’d been married nearly 2 years.

He’s on a call when I get home, talking numbers or something. I head directly to the shower, clean up, and take my sweet time. It must’ve driven him mad waiting for me because by the time I’m out he blows a gasket.

“What’s this stunt you pulled last night? Wanting to talk and leaving me a stupid sarcastic note just because I’m late? Where were you?”

“Out,” I shrug. “I didn’t know you were late. You didn’t text.”

“I didn’t tex--oh I see, now we’re being petty yeah?”

That irked me, “I’m not being petty. It’s not like I get the same courtesy when you’re out late!”

“I’m busy, I can’t always be texting you!”

Excuses, I laugh and he looks at me like I’m crazy. “Busy what? Screwing other women-”

“Don’t be making shit up-”

“I’ve had people tell me that they see you with other women Harry! S’not a far stretch!”

That quiets him. Finally, he comes forward to stand inches away. “Y/N, c’mon. You and me...this is stupid. Sure I go out to party but I’m not-”

“Stop.” he was actually trying to talk his way out of this. And because I’d rather step in front of an oncoming train than cry in front of him, I head to the front door and walk out. I’d find someplace to crash today, but I wasn’t doing this.

***

“How’re you doing?” Janelle asks. I’d shown up at her doorstep and she set up her guest bed. She had plans so I spent most of my time burying myself in work, trying to get rid of all that angry energy pent up in me. Janelle had just come home.

“I’m just trying to move on. I don’t want to talk about him, I just don’t care at this point--I’m fed up!”

“As you should be,” she agrees. “Listen, I know we had a crazy night yesterday but I’m going out with some friends today and...maybe it’ll help you?”

I think about the killer headache this morning, but I also remember how good it felt to forget for a bit. I agree. Before I know it, Janelle’s found something that fits me and we’re back at a different club than the night before. Her friends are familiar faces but after a few drinks we’re all best friends. It feels great. Until I spot Harry’s face.

“That’s enough,” his face looms over mine as he pushes away the man I’m up against.

“What the fuck Harry...” I trail off as he pulls me away from the middle of the crowd. I try to pry his hand off but there’s too many people and he’s moving too quickly...and I’ve had a lot of drinks. “Let me go!” I say when we finally step away. We’re in what must be a private room. He seemed familiar with it--of course.

“So just because you heard I’m out and about some nights, you decide to come here and fuck around with random men?”

“Excuse me?” I stare at him, he was out of his mind. “I’m out having fun with my friends! I’m not here because of you.”

“Really? You come to the same place I come to all the time and dance with these strangers? And you’re drunk as fuck!”

“Since when did you care?” I ask. “Just leave me alone. You’ve been doing that perfectly fine the last few months.”

“I’m your bloody husband Y/N, you can’t just-”

“Then act like one!” I shout, and in the muffled quiet of the room with the bass thumping through it rings out. “I don’t need you! And you made it clear you don’t need me. These rings are a fucking joke, here-” I take mine off and throw it at him.

“You don’t mean it-”

“I do.” I give him a level stare, suddenly clear-headed. Maybe I’d process it later, but right now I was finally seeing what he’d become. He deserved to feel how I felt, and quite frankly, I didn’t give a fuck. I flip him with both hands, “Quite frankly Harry, you can suck my d-”

“Harry!” A shrill voice rings out from the entrance that now carries the loud beats of the dance floor, swallowing my words. “Liam told me you were here!”

I glance at the brunette in the doorway and back at him. I couldn’t even muster an eye roll; I had enough.

“Y/N!” Harry calls my name as I walk out.

“No it’s me, Becky?!” she tries to correct him. I can’t help but laugh as I make my way back to my friends with a drink in my hand, feeling free.

***

“Y/N, it’s Harry. I don’t know how it got this shite just please call me back. Just give me five minutes that’s all I n--message deleted”

“He’s moved on to the office phone then?” Janelle asks, her desk was beside mine so she’d heard him as I checked my messages. It was two weeks since that glorious night when I’d dumped Harry’s ass. Although a lot of my things were still at our house, I was just staying in a hotel right now while I figured things out. One thing I knew for sure though, I didn’t want to see him again.

“It’s pretty pathetic,” I say. It was also pathetic how long I’d stayed waiting around for us to be magically fixed. But that was something I was working on getting past.

“You’re glowing without him,” April says from where she’s getting her files together. “Haven’t you got that showing out east?”

“Yeah, oh god is that the time?” I rush to get my files in order. “I’ll catch up with you later-”

“We’re still getting drinks after?”

“Yes, drinks!” I call out as I leave the office and head down to the lobby. I don’t expect Harry there, and I barely have time for him as he comes up to keep my pace.

“Harry, I’ve got somewhere to be please leave me alone.”

“Y/N, wait just please listen to me.”

“No.”

“2 minutes!”

“Not even 1,” I spot my cab out front and head towards it. I’m about to get in but Harry holds the door. “Harry let go I’m going to be late.”

“Just let me talk to you, please!”

I finally look at him and he’s quite a sight. His hair is matted and without it’s usual bounce. He’s got a rough look and a 5 ‘o clock shadow.

“You had plenty of time to talk to me for months, you were too busy at the club. Sorry not sorry,” I tug at the door and he lets go, I don’t spare a backwards glance as we drive away.

One of the showings is successful, I manage to sell the family on the home and we set up a meeting to go over details at my office later in the week. I’ve got a bounce in my step as I return to the office. I tell the girls I’d meet them at the bar as I finalize my papers at the office. My bounce falters when I go head out after 5 to see Harry waiting outside the building.

“Y/N,” he calls out when he sees me. “I’m not going to leave until you talk to me.”

“That’s called stalking,” I say. A few people walking past us turn to glance at him and he notices. He moves to the inside lobby and asks me to follow. With a big sigh I do.

“I know what I did.” he begins.

“Congratulations,” I roll my eyes.

“No wait, I know what I did to you. And sorry can’t cover it. Just let me make it up to you, we have history and-”

“You don’t get it.” I stop his monologue from going any further. “I’m gonna be just fine. Without you. You didn’t care about our history until you couldn’t have me. I don’t know what happened to you Harry, but you’re not the man I fell in love with-”

“I know,” he says, tears of frustration coating his lashes. “I fucked up, I-I didn’t see what I had right in front of me and I just-”

“Let her slip away? Is that the best you can come up with?” I scoff. “You know what Harry? I’m done with this! Boy...bye.”

“Y/N just--” he grabs my arm before I can leave and pushes something cold into my palm. My wedding ring.

“I don’t want this,” I push it back in his hand.

“Please just take it--hold onto it,” he pushes it back into mine and closes my fingers over it. “I can’t...I can’t hold onto it just take it! You don’t even have to think about it-”

“Harry,” I soften my tone. He was desperate and even though some part of me thought it was about time he felt this type of way, my heart hurt a little. I didn’t want him to see that though so I just tuck the ring into the pocket of his button up and pat it. “Goodbye Harry.”

I walk away with my head held high even though he calls out to me. I walk the few blocks to where my friends are waiting and their warm smiles are enough to help me push the memory of Harry’s teary eyes, and the real history we did have once upon a time away. I was done with him, no longer thinking about him.

I just kept telling myself, I was rare like a gem and I had to see that. And maybe one day, someone else will too.

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

For the ship game: prime numbers for Lupin x Jigen!

HERE YOU GO GHOST, THIS WAS FIVE PAGES IN A GOOGLE DOC AND TOOK ME SEVERAL HOURS

Under a cut, allegedly, though mobile has been known to just IGNORE THAT. Sorry in advance if this gets goofed for anyone.

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, in any place?

Lupin, obviously (and canonically). Just the horniest man you ever did see. Jigen knows what he wants and when he wants it, but he has difficulty keeping up with Don Juan Triumphant over there. Lupin is also far less picky about locations and times than Jigen is. Jigen still has a FEW standards, thank you, and also a stronger sense of self-preservation. Lupin sometimes tries to start shit in public or during a heist and Jigen is like “I REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE THE SENTIMENT BUT CAN WE NOT.” The closest to public anything Jigen will put up with is bar bathroom/back-alley hookups, and he doesn’t really tend to do that with Lupin or Goemon since they have secondary locations far more suited to such activity (or at least the damn Fiat, if nothing else). That said, Jigen is a spiteful bastard and gets a huge kick out of riling Lupin up over the walkie-talkie during jobs. He is more than happy to get jumped by his boss after they make it out and secure the loot.

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Honestly, while I can totally see Lupin and Jigen doing this with their other partners, I have a harder time imagining the two of them doing this together and I’m not sure why. I feel like these two on their own both like the privacy bathing gives them, whether it’s to clean wounds or decompress from a job.

On the occasions when they do bathe together, I feel like it’s an unspoken kind of thing, where the other person quietly slips in the tub/shower with them and they just don’t bother protesting. I think Lupin is more likely to join Jigen in his bathing, but if Jigen is sleepy enough or lonely enough he might do the same. There is a lot of mutual appreciation of scars. They’ve definitely smoked in the tub before (Intricate Rituals™). Lupin is probably more likely to get handsy, because Lupin, but two can play that game if Jigen is feeling it, and also Jigen gives Lupin a run for his money in the staring department. No hat to hide behind now.

Lupin has also 100% done the whole “Hey Jigen, do you know if—stop screaming, it’s me—do you know if we have any more instant dashi? Goemon’s gonna slice up the sofa if I ruin soba night again.”

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Jigen, but to be fair, he canonically sleeps on the couch most nights (possibly to keep an eye on the door, possibly because he knows that place, at least, is always “acceptable” for him to occupy). It’s an odd night if you don’t see Jigen out there with a glass and a bottle of scotch and an old movie on TV. The main difference is that if he and Lupin have been fighting, he won’t bother with the formality of a glass and the TV will be playing far louder or not at all.

7) [A] Who said “I love you” first? And [B] who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

I hate to take the coward’s way out here, but I think the answers are A) either one - depends on the headcanon/fic/version of the characters I’m feeling that day, and B) both.

For A, they’re both the sort of people to show their love—true love/affection, not just flirtation/infatuation, LUPIN—in action, not words. Lupin is a man of many words to a fault, generous with his verbal and physical affection, so Lupin has to find a way to make sure Jigen knows he means it and how he means it. He may rightly fear that Jigen won’t believe him (or else believe him but take it platonically) if he says “I love you” to his face, so first he’ll show him through every little action he can. Jigen is a man of few words to a fault, so saying personal stuff like that out loud is both a last resort and the point of no return. Getting him to say it at all, unambiguously, and while sober is like pulling teeth. Once one of them finally spits it out, though, I think the other is quick to reciprocate (again, if they manage to say it clearly and under good circumstances and not ambiguously/while drunk or wounded/etc. They’re both idiots and selective cowards so this is a big if). The mutual relief is palpable and immediately followed by sex, because they’re both (horny) idiots and selective cowards who do not want to talk about Emotions and Personal Things any more than strictly necessary.

For B, ohhhh man, if it isn’t that same emotional avoidance coming to bite them in the asses! Looks like talking about deep emotions is strictly necessary after all! You know it’s a Big Important Argument for them if this is what it comes to. This is going to tie in somewhat to the answers for 11, 17, and 23, so stay tuned. “Because I love you” coming from either of them should give the other pause, but if they are angry enough, they’re both quite likely to storm off after that declaration anyway. They’ll come back and have a real discussion later, but the shock or frustration of that arresting declaration dropped in the middle of an argument is something neither of them are great at dealing with. Hearing that from Jigen might be enough to stop Lupin in his tracks, but Lupin might also be so dead-set on something that he’ll steamroll right over it even if he knows he’ll regret it later. Hearing that from Lupin probably only makes Jigen angrier because of his awful self-esteem (see answers 11 and 23), and even if he’s been working on that, his instinct will be to snarl “Yeah, right” and storm out the door. I like to think that one day they are able to get to the heart of the argument sooner (because this is almost always it) and work on the behaviors that worry the other so much, but alas, they are a mess.

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

Once again, either of them depending on the day.

As you mentioned in your JiGoe post, Jigen says it partly because he thinks it’s funny (“You have a crush on me, Boss? Fuckin’ embarrassing”) but also because he’s fishing for validation. His self-esteem/confidence in anything outside his shooting skills is shit and he still can’t quite believe that Lupin isn’t lying/he hasn’t conned Lupin into something. This is rather overestimating his conning skills and underestimating his many good qualities, but, well, genuine, lasting affection is kinda new for him. Much to Jigen’s annoyance, Lupin figures out exactly what Jigen’s up to after the first few times and answers him seriously (and positively) instead of continuing the “joke”. Lupin loses patience for this particular tactic over time but I like to think that Jigen finally begins believing in the affection, too, so it comes up less and less and one day Jigen might actually play the quip straight without the self-deprecation. Ideally he would just take the damn compliment, but it’s LupJig and banter is one of their love languages.

When Lupin says it, he typically is playing the quip straight and fondly giving Jigen shit for showing an Emotion and motherFUCKER I just realized Jigen could probably be considered a tsundere. I hate this. ANYWAY. Jigen then immediately snarks back that yes, Lupin, considering we’ve been travelling the world together and actively fucking for X years, it’d be damn awkward if I didn’t by now.

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Lupin absolutely initiates duets, or rather, he tries to; whether or not Jigen actually chimes in is another matter entirely. Lupin is also the better singer by far (when he’s sober). He loves singing along to pop and rock in the car (“This is the reason God invented America!”).

Much as it would please me personally to give Jigen a smooth operatic baritone, there’s no way in hell he sounds good after smoking a pack a day for twenty-something years. I think Jigen can carry a tune and he’s a decent hummer and whistler, but his singing voice isn’t spectacular.

Lupin occasionally succeeds in getting Jigen to join him in car karaoke, though as in all things, Lupin is much louder and more impassioned. Jigen frequently hums along under his breath, though, and Lupin loves hearing Jigen’s a cappella renditions of classical music (complete with hand motions).

When Queen starts becoming popular, car singalongs become much more involved because it’s MY silly headcanon and You Are Not Immune To Queen. Jigen cried the first time he heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” and he will kill Lupin if he ever tells Goemon or, God forbid, Fujiko. When the four of them are in the car it’s a full-on Wayne’s World headbanging party. (Pops is the drunk guy they pick up along the way. Also, seeing Payless Shoe Source in this clip dealt me psychic damage.)

Lupin and Jigen (and Goemon) are the living embodiment of the drunk friends singing “Sweet Caroline” post, and Jigen is specifically this version of “Sweet Caroline”.

17) Who is more protective?

THAT IS THE QUESTION, HUH, GHOST? Jigen’s job and, to a certain degree, raison d’être is protecting Lupin, but (to cheat slightly and quote your own DM to me), if you think Lupin won’t raze everything to the ground to keep Jigen (and the others) safe, you don’t know him at all. They are this meme to the deepest of faults. They are both so desperately afraid of losing what they have (and in Lupin’s case, this is tinged with a bonus, even more concerning “what is his”) that they will go full self-sacrificing, scorched-earth policy. This is, in fact, my favorite reason for Lupin to do the worst thing he does: fake his own death to protect his partners. Lupin never stops to think that maybe, JUST MAYBE, he should trust his partners to fake grief and keep the secret long enough for whoever’s on their tail to give up or let their guard slip. Lupin is willing to hurt them in an effort to protect them, so in that way, I suppose Lupin is the “most” “protective”. Jigen’s self-abasement to the point of unhesitating and perhaps even hasty sacrifice is painful, too, but Jigen would never dare go to the same level of deception (except in Goodbye, Partner, apparently? But 1) I haven’t watched it yet and 2) while awful, I still feel like fake betrayal pales in comparison to very convincingly (AND MAYBE REPEATEDLY) faked death).

19) Who drives and who has the window seat?

They split driving duties, but Lupin genuinely loves driving and Jigen is more than happy to prop his feet on the Fiat’s dashboard and smoke or sleep the hours away.

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the other’s love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

HERE WE GO AGAIN!!! I think the answer to all of these is ultimately Jigen, but that’s not to say Lupin doesn’t share the exact same worries.

Jigen has a very difficult time believing that his partners’ love is genuine, and since Lupin is the one he knew first, that’s where it first manifests. Jigen has had very, very few good romantic connections in his life (if any). He doesn’t know what Lupin could possibly see in an older, prickly hired killer with a drinking problem and a head full of demons. He’s willing to believe that Lupin keeps him around for his skills, for protection, and for sex, sure, but anything past that? Doubtful. This ties into the other two parts of the question: Jigen is afraid that if he fails in his sharpshooting or his protection, he will be cut out of the gang, or worse, Lupin will end up dead because Jigen slipped up. As mentioned in question 17, Jigen cannot bear to lose Lupin and he would never forgive himself if he believed it was somehow his fault. Accordingly, Jigen takes “failure” that exceeds his usual margin of error very seriously in the early days. Later, he is better about this, but the worst-case scenario still stands.

Lupin, on the other hand, has had plenty of romantic connections, some good, some bad, though it is perhaps telling that Fujiko is his longest romantic relationship other than Jigen. He is afraid that if he doesn’t put on the world’s greatest show at all times, no one will give a rat’s ass about some scrawny grandson of an old French thief (or the perhaps unwanted/disliked son of a ruthless crime lord, because I love that fanon for Lupin the Second). He must live up to and indeed surpass the previous Lupins, he must shower his partners in money and adventure, he must always, always come out on top no matter how south the plan goes, or else what is the point of him? It takes time for him to turn his persona off for more than a few seconds, to let the quieter, sometimes contemplative side that slips through the cracks come to rest out in the open. Years down the road, Jigen finally gets up the courage and the words to tell Lupin that he would love him no matter what he did or where he went, even if that was nothing and nowhere. And again, see question 17 re: losing Jigen.

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?

Lupin is by far the most guilty of this. He’s constantly pulling dumb shit, whether that be for World-Renowned Gentleman Thief reasons or just He May Be Stupid reasons. Case in point: the tunnel scene in The First, after which Jigen was duly impressed. Fortunately for Lupin, Lady Luck must be head over heels for him because the bastard keeps surviving, but sometimes even she can’t save him from medical consequences. Jigen bulk-ordered “Stupid Hurts” band-aids specifically for Lupin. Jigen’s bad choices are more likely to literally backfire on him, but Goemon more than makes up for Jigen’s slack in the Crazy Stunt department.

[beyondtheciouds]

.26.

Lucie couldn't sleep.

Her eyes would close, fatigue trying to persuade her mind to turn off. But, the voices inside her head would not stop.

Talking. Shouting. Screaming all at once; vying for her undivided attention.

Several ghosts filled the dark room turning the air icy surrounding the bed. All but a small boy were pleading with her. Begging her. Calling her.

Lucie took a breath, watching the steam rising from her mouth float up and across the room. The steam swirled like smoke, twisting from side to side as invisible hands batted at it.

Lucie knew what they wanted. These spirits wanted to be let out of Fairchild Manor as if they were like caged animals. She wondered if she could help any of them.

The Queen of the Dead, they called to her, sending showers of shivers over her skin. She pushed the covers down and grabbed the beige button cardigan from the end of her bed. The spirits were coming closer as Lucie pulled it on. Set us free. Set us free. Set us free.

Lucie gazed into the shadows at the little boy. She guessed he couldn't be no more than two. He was rigidly standing and so pale his skin seemed a translucent shade of blue.

Lucie gasped. The boy was in a white embroidered suit and stood separated from the rest of the ghosts. He was hidden in the shadows, just on the cusp of light streaming in from the moon. She could see half his face was caved in.

Lucie could smell the rotting pine from his casket and she gagged.

The boy held the obscured image of Belial's hand like a vice. His small fingertips were white: the foam of crashing waves.

The little boy's hands unwillingly reminded Lucie of Nate's bony fingers; tightly wrapped around her neck. She felt the atmosphere charge with despair and misery; broken promises of the past the moment she said his name aloud. "Nate."

Lucie wanted to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers. She closed her eyes, shaking. She had never really been afraid of the ghosts that weren't scary. Not even when she was very young. Back then, she'd just considered them all her imaginary friends.

Now, she was afraid.

She was afraid of Nate.

The boy and Belial were both whispering Lucie's name like a prayer and her body involuntarily trembled at the same time she caught a glimpse of Nate's skeletal hand reaching out of the shadows.

Lucie swallowed her fear, hard.

The boy's eyes were a slate gray, respectively resembling ancient headstones. Lucie couldn't help but notice that they were boring holes into her. His hair was light and luminous putting shame to the fullest moon. Strands were cut into a bowl shape around his head and lifted with sudden rush of bitter air. Lashes as thick as pen feathers lined his almond shaped eyes and fluttered against the pallid skin underneath.

He looked like Grace.

Lucie opened her eyes, the image of the boy had burned holes in her vision. She was breathing heavy, the wind knocked out of her lungs. Her heart was a complicated machine, crushing her organs and breaking her ribs. Out of breath, she bolted upright in bed as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Uprooted from the noise of the ghosts, the voices aburptly stopped.

Lucie held her breath, exhaling when the noise in the hall suddenly stopped at her door. The moonlight shone in through the curtains and was calming like a hand on her shoulder.

The window was open, the sound of crickets and owls echoing through the forest behind the manor enchanted Lucie. The sounds outside alerted her mind.

Once or twice, Lucie had thought she heard wolves howling in the distance. She turned her body, placing her bare feet on the floor.

As if in a fairytale or a dream she glided to the window. Dazed, she waited for Matthew.

A knock as if on que sounded on her door. Matthew opened the door and stumbled inside. Lucie could tell he was drunk already, his face ruddy and full in the dim lighting. He looked like a cherub. "Luce? I.. uh...sorry to disturb you... "

Lucie's nightgown billowed in the cold breeze pouring in as Matthew trailed off to a soft gasp. Her cheeks were a rosy pink; flushed as if she'd been the one drinking.

Matthew was cleary flustered with Lucie's appearance. He averted his darkening gaze; the last of self-esteem. He couldn't look at her like this or when he was this drunk. "I'm going to Alicante. Do you...do you need anything?"

It was strange to hear the once self assurred boy stutter. Lucie squinted and shook her head, her curls almost black in the shadow of the moon. No, she didn't need anything but this nightmare to go away. She felt guilty thinking it; feeling like her life was now ruined by something that never should have happened.

How could she? How could he? How could they?

Matthew did his best to hide any disappointed feelings he might have had when tried to smile, but it was very lopsided and unnatural. His lips dipped oddly and the solitary dimple appearred that she remembered.

"Are you sure?" He asked, although his tone had made it clear he was just being polite.

Again, she was wordless. She nodded and it felt like a reflex like everything felt with Matthew.

Lucie heard her Aunt Sophie's voice in her ears assurring her. Just nod and smile. There's still a chance you are dreaming.

Hollering coming from outside distracted them both from the awkwardness and for once Lucie was greatful Matthew had found other lost Shadowhunters. Social paririahs out for blood and a good time.

A distraction for him from their too real situation. A situation that Lucie felt was not going to end the way she thought.

Lucie folded her arms defensively across her chest although she had nothing to be defensive about. "I'm good, thank you." Matthew was looking past her, out the window towards the willow tree where the group of boys and girls had gathered. He lifted a hand and waved to them. "Alright then. I'll be on my way."

The air became thick with the words they left unsaid. Lucie knew at some point they would have to speak about the next step but she was not going to be the one to broach the subject.

Matthew's face turned scarlet as though he felt the same and the air around Lucie seemed warmer. She blinked as a cool hand pressed against her shoulder, urging her.

"Uh.. have a good night, Lu." Matthew said after a long minute, sounding uncomfortable and unsure. He frowned, his feelings hurt.

Lucie blinked at the heat he had brought in with him and the smooth coolness that now wrapped around her like Jesse's lanky arms. She pressed her lips together in what she hoped was a smile. "You too."

Hours went by and Lucie tossed and turned in the bed that wasn't hers. Although she was exhausted, her mind was running like a locomotive; pushing out theories of steam and burning blocks of ideas until a deliberate pounding on the front door pulled her from the restlessness of her sheets.

The letter; the telegram would come from London a day late and Lucie had been exactly a dollar short with the tip.

After recieving and reviewing the two handwritten pages, Lucie sat down at her desk. She had spent the last few hours rereading Thomas's words by witchlight; his warning invading her head.

Grace is coming.

Lucie's tired eyes had spent the night staring at the papers; her mind a whirl of whispering and decipherings. She was far too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice Jesse watched quietly from the shrinking shadows.

Lucie had waited until she saw the Fairchild carriage roll up the driveway to go outside. She knew she had to tell Matthew because...well, she wasn't entirely sure. But she thought he needed to hear what Tom had to say.

In an effort to stay warm against the briskness of the daybreak, she quickly piled on a wool robe and a heavy coat that was far too big for her petite frame. She stuffed her feet in knitted socks and a worn pair of Matthew's boots.

Lucie ran like she saw the Devil from her room and bolted down the creaky stairs. The girl was a thunder cloud stealing the quiet of a sleepy afternoon.

Lucie waited at the door of the manor eagerly as Matthew finally climbed out of the yellow carriage. He blew a kiss into the darkness of the inside and shut the door.

The white horses neither noticed nor cared when Matthew petted their heads as he passed them, singing.

Lucie cornered Matthew on the steps. He had just arrived back at Fairchild Manor from a long night spent at the taverns in Alicante and the shock on his face was unmistakable.

Even from a distance, he had smelt vile much to Lucie's disaproval. His clothes were rumpled, stained with stale cigar burns and expensive booze. His body stunk like a lethal combination of congealed blood and body odor.

All masked by cheap perfume.

The sun had barely risen as she stood on the steps, fuming. She kept the dangerous giddy feeling from rising to her lips as he stopped in front of her. When he turned his head, she saw one eye was black and blue.

Matthew was six sheets to the wind and he was still singing some gaudy tune he picked up in a bar. Lucie grimly noticed his voice was way off kilter. Lucie had covered her mouth to prevent the vicious overtired laughter in her from boiling over at the scenario. Her logical mind forced a vacant reaction to his obvious oblivious actions. At least the fact that he was not brooding or angry numbed her anger a smidgen.

Matthew was cleary more drunk than before. He lifted and arm, preventing Lucie from moving away as he reached out and grabbed her hand. "Luce," he said happily, his hand soaked with a substance Lucie preferred not known the name of. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Without even a hello, Lucie ripped her hand away. She wiped her hand on her coat as she hastily read him Thomas's letter. Her face was a ripe tomato and she wished steam rose from her ears.

When she finished reading, she realized his one good eye had been preoccupied with her mouth instead of the words she read to him.

Lucie found Matthew infuriating and she had said so.

"Oh Matthew!" Lucie shrieked as the sun rose above them like the backdrop in play.

"What!?" Matthew blinked, his green eyes dark as he licked his lips. His smile was mischievous and wide. "Say it again, please. Just one more time Lu."

"You are positively infuriating!"

Matthew sighed dramatically at Lucie. He had been in a good mood until she dampened it with Thomas's lectures and her prudish attitude. He grunted wearily as he wedged past her.

Lucie rolled her eyes as he ran up the rest of the steps. He went into the manor without a glance backwards.

Lucie tipped her head back and laughed as Matthew slammed the door.

[kiatheinsomniac]

Huntress II

[ I ]  [ II ]  [ III ]

(Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes flickered between the two women who were seated before her.

The one on the left was blonde with curled hair that cascaded in ringlets over her shoulders, complimenting her tanned skin. Her face bore dark brown eyes that glimmered with sparkling tears, they reminded (Y/n) of a lost fawn. She wore an elegant grey dress with detailed beading and a white front and clutched a tear-stained handkerchief in her left hand. She looked as though she had hardly slept since the murder. This one was Lucia - the daughter of a Count and Countessa from Venice.

The second was much darker-skinned. She had her ink-black hair parted down the middle with the upper half of her locks styled up in a bun. She wore a white dress with a red sash around the middle and embroidery over the skirt of it. Wrapped around her shoulders was a cascading cloak with all the detail of a tapestry and embroidered with patterned glass beads. She wore a golden circlet and red veil that was attached with a clip at the back of her head. Many earrings and bracelets, as well as a golden necklace, flaunted her wealth. This was Halime, the daughter of a very successful and wealthy Ottoman trader. She was very tired too and had been awoken from sleep to talk with the Witch Hunter. A cup of coffee was clutched in her hands to assist in rousing her sleep-fogged mind.

"I need every detail that you can remember about that man and anything that felt different about that night, what made it out of the ordinary aside from the murder?" (Y/n) questioned as she dipped a quill in some ink and poised it over some parchment.

"It was just another street party." Lucia began, "We go to them all the time. This one was in the piazza down the street. It started off perfectly fine but then he showed up. He wore white robes and a red belt with a symbol that looked like an arrow pointing up on it." (Y/n) scribbled this down in her cursive handwriting. "He was so handsome that you could have wondered if one of the old Roman gods had returned to walk the earth, I suppose that this foolishly made us put our guards down."

"Yes, vampires tend to be very attractive: it's what lures their prey into a false sense of security, it makes them desirable. Carry on."

"He was an excellent dancer. I was rather shocked that Elizabetta was dancing so well with him: it's no secret that she was not a very good dancer." Lucia paused, "I couldn't wrap my head around it but I ignored the red flag because I had no reason to sense that something supernatural was happening at the time."

"It was like she was a puppet on strings. . ." Halime spoke up in a soft voice, staring at the steam coming off her dark coffee, "Like he was controlling her, had her hypnotised. . . Can they do that?" There was a silence while (Y/n) noted down, what she believed to be, key information.

"Yes and that makes this vampire very dangerous; he is clearly very powerful. They all have simple powers, ones to help lure in prey. But some have their own unique abilities - it's rare to ever hear of vampires with the same personal ability. I hope that he does not have one. . . Please continue."

"His name was Ezio." Halime carried on, "I overheard him introducing himself to Eliza, I can remember gossiping about it. Eliza was drinking a lot of wine - usually, she would not drink but that night was an exception with him. I swooped in to make sure he wasn't trying to get her drunk and take advantage but he was so charming. He knew of my father's business too so we spoke about that for a while though he admitted to disliking coffee. In fact. . . looking back on it now. . . there was so much food there, so much to drink. . . he didn't touch any of it. . ."

"Human food and drink will make them ill, they can only keep it down for so long before they're sick. I've known one who tried so desperately to be human again - she was turned into a vampire against her will and some villagers were worried she would attack them. I thought I would have to fight her tooth and claw but she called me her angel and accepted death. . . She didn't want to live an immortal life as a monster."

"Do you think that Ezio was turned into one?" Lucia questioned.

"I can't tell yet. He may have been bitten, he may have been born a vampire, he may have traded his soul. I cannot tell as of yet. But, this is an investigation and you two must carry on telling me about the events of that night."

"Yes," Lucia looked to Halime, "I joined them perhaps an hour after he had been talking with Eliza and Halime. Poor Eliza was worried she would get too drunk and asked him to escort her home. We were both very against this, to begin with, but the way he spoke about her and how sincere he looked. . ." A sob escaped her lips, "He was so convincing and if only we'd persisted, she'd still be alive." Her young Ottoman friend turned to embrace her as she sobbed.

"You two found her in her room afterwards when you came to check on her. Was the window open?" (Y/n) quizzed. She felt sorry for the crying Lucia but she had to get her work done if she wanted to stop any more people from dying the way Elizabetta had.

"Yes, I was the one who closed it." Halime nodded her head, her bracelets on her wrists jangling as she ran her hand up and down her weeping friend's back. "We found her naked. . ." She looked to the door and lowered her voice, "Between us three. . . Eliza was not as pure as her family believe her to have been. I knew exactly why she wanted Ezio to escort her home - she wanted him to share her bed."

"I had a feeling that he had slept with her then killed her. It's very common for vampires to do that. Some get the blood pumping with fear, others with pleasure." She noted down Ezio's behaviour. One thing didn't add up. If Ezio had escaped through the window, the heel of the palm of the blood print on the window sill would be facing inwards.

"Thank you for your time, girls. If you remember anything else that you think could be useful, don't hesitate to find me." Halime nodded for both of them while Lucia continued to sob. (Y/n) could see the hollow look in the girl's dark brown eyes as she comforted her friend.

The Witch Hunter made her way outside to the gardens and walked around the wide of the building until she could see Elizabetta's bedroom window. Her (e/c) orbs widened as she squinted against the sun. There was a trail of dirty bootprints on the side of the white wall that led to the balcony two rooms down. He must have held onto the edge of the roof and made his way over! (Y/n) felt an anxiousness loom over her. He was incredibly athletic if this was the case. She attempted to recall the layout of the mansion. That balcony was part of the Doge's study.

Why would a vampire go there if he had an unfinished meal in the other room? It made no sense to (Y/n). She made her way back inside and paused outside the study. She knew that the Doge would not like her snooping around, therefore, she quietly pushed the door open and examined the room. Nothing seemed too out of order at first glance. She made her way over to the balcony and, sure enough, there was a bloody handprint on the rail. He had stopped in here.

(Y/n) pulled a pendulum out of her pocket. She had to find something missing in a room that she was utterly unfamiliar with. She wrapped the silver chain around her knuckles and held it up in the air, keeping her arm perfectly still as she watched the point of clear quartz settle in the air, going still. She looked over her shoulder at the door, making sure that the coast was clear before beginning.

"What did the vampire take?" Nothing happened for three moments before it slowly began moving back and forth, towards a bookshelf that was placed on the left side of the room. The (h/c)-haired female slowly stepped forwards, following the direction which it swung in before she paused in front of one particular part of the shelf. "Thank you. With that said, she pocketed the pendulum and ran her hands over the leather-bound books and volumes. Her eyes slipped shut as she ran her fingertips over the spines before they snapped open and she pulled a red one off the shelf swiftly.

It was old, that much she could tell, and it seemed to buzz in her hands almost - a thrum of energy was tied to it. Though, only someone so in tune with this layer of our reality would be able to tell. Someone like a vampire or a witch hunter. She flipped through the pages: all hand-written about precursors and magical items that she had never heard of before. This shocked her, she was so very well educated in her profession that she was surprised to discover something she didn't know. Her fingers ran along where pages had visibly been torn. Why did the Doge own this book? Why did Ezio want it? (Y/n)'s eyes narrowed and her heart fluttered as she began to get the suspicion that she was out of her depth. There was something going on here that she was not aware of, something that the Doge was hiding.

Something that the vampire wanted.

Her lips parted as a piece of the puzzle in her investigation fell into place. Elizabetta had been Ezio's key inside. Vampires, like many supernatural creatures, could not enter a place unless invited. She had been his way inside and he had not finished drinking her blood because he had his fill, cutting off a loose end at the same time, then attended to the real reason he had come here.

There was no way that she was not going to read through that red book, therefore, she tucked it into the depths of her cloak and walked back out again. This was her new piece of evidence. She could question the victim's parents later. For now, she needed to understand the vampire on the loose, not the corpse.

(Y/n) made her way into her assigned room which she had been showed to earlier. She turned the key in the lock behind her so that she would not be disturbed.

It was a small but snugly furnished room. The large four-poster bed in the close left corner with its red sheets and white pillows took up around a third of it. At the end of the bed was a trunk where her bags were being stored. The far wall bore two tall leaded windows on either side of it. Against the right wall were a table and a vanity. The fireplace was in the middle of the left wall. It had a plush wooden chair and black pillow by it. Candelabras were scattered across the room to provide light at night.

The (s/t)-skinned female unbuckled her dark grey cloak to hang it up on the coat rack by the door then sat by the plush chair in front of the fire, the book in her hands. She paused to look into the flames.

The soft crackling began to ring in her ears, echoing and it quickly became a raging roar of flames at war with firewood. Screams of agony and shrieked prayers rang in her ears, the cheers of a crowd. She could smell smoke and an awful burning as well as dusty hay.

Snapping herself out of it, she sprung from her seat and toed off her boots, curling up on the bed to read instead. Tears pricked at her eyes but she smudged them away quickly, opening the first page of her book in order to try and understand why the vampire wanted it so badly. This one was too important to allow him to get away, for he would be kill number twelve.

Her final victim.

♰♰♰

Series of papers were piled over the desk, some of them pinned to the wall. Ezio's eyes picked apart every piece of information before flickering up to a drawing of his goal:

The Apple of Eden.

He was determined to but this centuries-long war to rest. He had traded his very soul for it, for immortality, for a body that was stronger than a human's in every way, for him to stop wasting time on sleep. The only price was that he would have to drink the blood of humans to survive.

Too many lives had been lost to the war between Assassin and Templar and he intended to put an end to the killing once and for all. He wouldn't have made such a self-sacrifice if he did not believe that he would succeed. He knew that if he could put an apple, he could cause the final killings of the remaining Templars that would put all the bloodshed to an end, that would guarantee freedom of will.

His large hands, olive-toned, skimmed over the papers. trying to organise the mess.

He was inside a singular room: a large one at that. It was high-ceilinged and lit with candles and small fires on intricately carved marble candelabras. The stained glass windows were boarded up, the pews in disarray and many of the statues were covered by dusty sheets. Art, armour, fine jewels and old weapons, as well as books and sketches, were set around the place.

He had set up his workspace at the very back of the abandoned church where the altar had once been. There was a large bed with tapestries hung around it to replace the fact that it lacked posts. Rugs were layered on the floor and a case of wine bottles was stacked on the shelf. Well, they had once been used for wine but now they had been repurposed and held blood. He could no longer enjoy wine like he did when he was still the careless young human boy romancing every pretty woman in Florence.

A child laughed behind him before a sheet was pulled from a statue of an angel, causing dust to swirl in the air. The eyes were painted black and the paint ran down the angel's cheeks like demonic tears.

But no one was there.

"I will not tolerate your games." He growled to the daring ghosts of the church who soon fled the room, knocking over a book in the process of leaving. The church was full of wandering spirits, many of which were daring children who were in search of a little fun and entertainment.

But there was one spirit in particular. . .

A laugh resonated throughout the hall. For someone so recently dead, she was very strong. Though, this was simply because she had a direct link to Ezio: killer and victim. Her blood was still in him, after all.

"You won't get away with it. You'll be stopped." The ghost of Elizabetta smirked as she stood perfectly still behind where Ezio was seated at his cluttered desk.

"And who will stop me? Your Templar father?" He sighed, not wanting to entertain the taunting spirit.

"No. But she will." The ghost smirked, "I actually helped her out earlier, she knows what you took and soon enough she'll find out why. My father's hired her to avenge me by ending your supposedly immortal life." Ezio whipped his head around at this, tossing his tied-back dark down hair as he did so. His chestnut orbs glinted with anger and worry as to what the ghost was speaking of. His scarred lips curled down into a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a witch hunter in the city — a very skilled one at that. She's travelled very far because my father would only settle for the best of the best. (Y/n) (L/n) ring a bell?" She smirked. Ezio turner back around and held his head in his hands. No! He had sacrificed too much on this path for some human to end it now!

"Begone! You're not welcome here!" He snapped, not even facing the spirit of Elizabetta who simply giggled as she vanished into smoke, her spirit having to leave the abandoned church now that she had been banned from it. She loved getting under the cold skin of the man who had ended her life so abruptly.

Ezio growled irritably in the dimly-lit room. Surely the spirit was only taunting him? But what if she was telling the truth? He wouldn't put it past the paranoid Dodge to do such a thing. Sighing, he stood from his cushioned seat and made his way towards a door in the corner which led down to the basement of the large church. Upon opening it, a spider scuttled across the stone floor, legs running rapidly over the uneven bricks.

The vampire stepped over the threshold and small, wall-mounted braziers lit up, the oil in them burning silently and causing a soft glow to illuminate the previously pitch-black stairwell. He found himself in a room full of stacks of shelves, dividing the dimly-lit and cluttered room into aisles. Inside the containers of preserving liquids were hearts, lungs, intestines, kidneys, brains, eyes, tongues, fingers and so on. Strings of cobwebs hung from the ceiling and mould was beginning to grow from the dampness that seeped between the bricks.

Closer to the back of the room were scrolls and papers tied with twine, coated in dust. The abundance of books could not fit onto all the shelves so they stacked up in piles, some of them lying open or discarded from where Ezio had ransacked the room for information on the Pieces of Eden or codex pages. Eventually, he made his way to a wooden box, sealed with wax and a sorceress's spell to keep it's magic contents inside.

A hidden blade protruded from Ezio's sleeve with a satisfying 'snnk' and cut along the lid of the box, slicing through the dripped red wax until he could prise the old box open with his hands. Inside, was a thick lock of braided blonde hair, healthy as the day it was cut. Mermaid's hair. It felt soft as sea-foam and smelled of a hot tropical harbour's breeze. They say, that if you capture a mermaid, she can tell you your future because they can read the very waves of the ocean.

But you didn't need the whole creature to do that.

Ezio wound the braid around his hand and whispered under his breath, uttering the question to the blonde tresses which he held mere millimetres from his lips. He needed to know if Elisabetta was bluffing or not and he had to know if this Witch Hunter was a true threat. Usually, he would not take the words of a ghost so seriously but he knew in his gut that something else was amiss here. A woman's voice whispered to him:

"She will find you and she will do everything in her power to kill you. Beware, for she will burn all that stands in the way of vengeance for her sisters."

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling at the Seams Pt 3

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Alex Høgh Andersen/OFC, Henry Cavill/OFC Warnings: Language, Sexual Innuendo, Possible NSFW Rating: M Length: Multi Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Allow me to give you all a little something, for my birthday. 

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for the header :D

Catch Up Here

The weekend had been slower than usual, a welcoming relief from work for all who were involved. Jordan had casually asked Nell and Ivan over to watch a game on Sunday, only to be declined due to Ivan's own involvement in a local youth football league. They had a match Sunday morning and Nell wasn't confident that her son would be up for that much excitement for one day – not if she wanted him in bed at a decent hour for school the next morning.

“I thought they usually came over to watch the matches.” Alex tried his best not to look like a stalker, peering around the corner and out the window that looked into the courtyard at Jordan and Sophie's. On the stairs across the yard, Nell sat with her phone in hand, staring down at the screen.

“They do, but I think they're busy this afternoon.” Jordan replied ignoring the fact that Alex was spying on the neighbours. “Now come on, get over here and watch the fucking game.”

“Uh, in a second.”

“Dude, don't be that guy. Stop oogling the poor woman, you do enough of that at work.” Marco smirked and tossed a chip at Alex.

A middle finger extended in reply to Marco; Alex chuckled and left the window.

Would it look too desperate if he went for a smoke?

What would Nell think? He knew what Jordan and Marco would think and say.

Marco teased his friend relentlessly about the costume designer and his crush. Nell was lovely and fun to talk with, she made the long days less mundane and was always smiling, unless you were Alex. Marco had worked with her as long as Alex and Jordan, living with Alex gave him an edge on exactly how his friend saw the woman across the courtyard.

The crush had been on-the-spot.

They had walked in for their first fitting and Alex was slack jawed, nearly tripping over himself in her presence. Nell ignored him, a wise move Marco thought, though it caused Alex to be a bigger pest. Two years he had been admiring this woman and was still struggling to get a decent conversation in.

“Why don't you ask her out?” Sophie joined the conversation, glancing over her shoulder at the window to see Nell still sitting on the steps.

Nell was guarded, sure, and at the end of the day she was still a woman. On more than one occasion Nell had revealed how lonely she felt. Ivan and her job were the only things she had in Ireland, possibly the only two things she had regardless where she was.

“Don't torment him.” Jordan smirked. Nell would never agree to a date with Alex.

She didn't date actors, anymore, nor did she want somebody who was barely able to function around her. Alex was a great guy and a fantastic friend; Jordan had a few doubts about his abilities to truly woo and keep a woman. The other actor rarely went on dates and when he did, they never lasted longer than one night.

Marco snickered. “Can you even talk to her?”

“I can talk to her.” Alex defended. Quietly he took the ribbing. Sophie knew Nell the best out of the four people in the room, her suggestion had felt like less teasing and that had the wheels turning in Alex's mind.

He could casually ask her the next time he brought her a coffee at work. Or should he go big and grand? Send her a bouquet of flowers, asking her when they arrived?

He had saw a bouquet of peach roses on her work top one day, he remembered the dozen roses vividly. They were bright and cheery, they had everybody commenting on them. Nell would blush and say they were from a friend. Probably her boyfriend at the time.

Alex had heard through the grapevine that the costume designer hadn't dated anybody in a serious manner, in a long time. Men were fickle about women with children, a shame because Alex loved kids. Ivan, from what he could piece together, was comical. The little boy was smart and had no issue telling adults how it was.

“What's going on in that thick head?” Marco launched another chip at Alex. “Day dreaming about your girlfriend?”

“Fuck off.” Alex quipped, tossing half of the crumbled chip back at Marco. “She's not my girlfriend.”

“But you want her to be.” Marco winked at Jordan and Sophie, extending his arm around his body and turning his back to them. Imitating a couple making out. “Oh Alexxxxx.”

Laughter filled the room at Alex's expense. Cheers and whoops from Jordan enjoying Marco's performance.

“Cut it out, leave him be.” Sophie defended Alex's dignity against the other two. “Let him alone.” even she giggled at Marco's over the top theatrics.

“At least somebody in the room looks out for me,” Alex wasn't at all hurt or insulted by the joking.

“Why don't you ask her out?” Sophie's tone told him she was on a serious level now. “Ask her for coffee or something. Invite her to a nice brunch. She was telling me how much she misses getting dressed up and going out on Sundays.”

“Ask her, mate. Tell her we'll watch Ivan for the morning and go have fun.” Jordan's eyes never left the tv as he spoke.

“I don't know.”

What would he say? How would he do it? He couldn't simply walk up and ask her. Could he? Nell would likely laugh at him, shoot him down, and never speak to him again. Alex had a reputation of being able to talk and make friends with anyone, but women were sometimes his faltering point. Especially ones he had a particular interest in.

“What? Come on, you may as well ask. What is the worse that could happen? She says no and you have to pick up your pride? Shameful.” Marco was now changing his tune about this.

If Alex were to go out on a date, then maybe Marco wouldn't have to listen to him moan about how he had shit luck with women.  Alex needed to get laid, this could be the ticket to such things. Marco hated how his roommate became a whiny little bitch because he was getting sexually frustrated.

“I don't know. What would I say? What would we do? How would I ask?” Alex scratched the shaved part of his head. “Do I tell her she can bring Ivan? Will she think it's a joke? Do I bring her flowers? I don't know.”

“Calm down, is the first step.” Sophie coached. Placing a hand on Alex's arm, she tried to soothe his nerves. “I will help you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Help him with what? How not to get punched in the face?” Jordan teased. “Nell is proud, don't be cocky.”

Until now, Alex's only fear had been that she rejected him. Nell wouldn't physically harm him, would she? No, Jordan was being a dick nothing more.

“What do you even know about her?” Marco questioned, remembering he had a beer on the table. If they were going to plot this poor woman's nightmare, he wanted his excuse to be he was drunk.

“She has a son. She's from somewhere in Canada,” Alex thought for a moment. He didn't want help, despite Jordan looking as if he wanted to fill in all the blanks. “Uh. She's lived here before, but moved to...was it London?” Sophie nodded eagerly. “She has siblings? She likes scotch and peach roses.”

“Very good.” Sophie applauded lightly. “But don't bring up the roses. She hates that.”

“Really? She had a big bunch of them on her work station a few months ago.” Marco tipped his beer.

“It's a thing between her and Henry. You don't want to remind her of her ex on a first date.” Sophie carefully guided the wayward men.

“What kind of dickhead name is Henry?” Alex snorted.  Now he had the name of the guy who had hurt her.

Fuck you Henry!

“Henry of England. Henry Winkler, Henry Ford, Henry Cavill, Henry Thomas, Henry...” Marco thought hard for a moment. “No that is all I have. Needless to say, they all sound like douchebags.”

“Why do you know so many Henry's?” Jordan was puzzled. Marco shrugged, leaving the conversation at hand to explain he knew a lot of random shit. Launching him and Jordan into a new conversation, allowing Alex and Sophie to focus on the task at hand.

Tapping his fingers on the table top, Alex sat staring into space. He needed something to go on, a solid plan for asking. Something tactful, but classy. Walking into the design room wasn't going to cut it. Walking across the courtyard and knocking on her door was plain stalkerish.

“So, what now?” He turned to Sophie, needing all the help he could get.

On the front step, in the warm afternoon sun, Nell knew she was being watched. She couldn't see the person watching her from inside the townhouse, she could feel their stare. It was the same familiar stare that followed her at work.

Oh Alex.

“Are you with still with me, Janelle?” She focused on the screen at a sweaty man, eyes dancing, and dark curls smashed under a ball cap.

Fuck him and that blue tank top. Nell tried not to laugh, thinking of how his chest reminded her of the try hard harlots who would wear the push up bras in attempt to get their bosom to their throats.

The video call had come while Ivan was upstairs playing, which meant Nell would have time to take the call, getting any details she had yet to reveal to her son. If there was time, she would pass the phone off and let him talk with his father until one of them decided to run off and do something else.

“Copy that, Mr. Cavill.” She calmly replied,  glancing up. Her peeping Dane was gone. “You look a little out of breath. Hard run today?” It was no secret the man moved like a sloth while running.

“Don't want to discuss it.” Henry shook his head at her teasing. Nell could outrun him with a broken leg and took great joy in reminding him. “Are you outside?” Behind her head the front of a house loomed and there was a sliver of sky beyond that.

“I am. It's too nice to sit inside.”

She would never tell him that she didn't want Ivan to hear her, in case it was another disappointment call. More than once his father would say he wanted to visit and then have to cancel. Schedules changed, it was nature of the job, having to explain that to a child never got easier. Leaving the poor boy with disappointment for days.

“Is it still as lovely there in summer as I remember?”

“Humid, but beautiful as always.” Nell nodded.

“I can't wait. I think I may have you book a room. Put it under your name and I will cover the costs. Perhaps something that will be suited for Ivan to stay with me? Unless of course you would prefer he comes to stay with me at home?” Henry shrugged. “If you want some time to yourself.”

“What are you saying?”

“You need to get out more. Find a hobby? Have some fun.” She hardly left the house outside of work.

“I have fun.”  Nell blurted out. Henry, wisely, didn't say another word. Nell huffed. “And you can come here.” Ivan enjoyed London, but it wouldn't hurt for him to spend time with his father in his own environment for a change. If they were here, then Nell felt she could keep her wits about her.  “I mean, you can stay here. At my place.”

Nell spotted Sophie pass by and waved. Waving back, the peppy blonde smiled and disappeared. Later on, Nell would venture over with a bottle of Château Montus Madiran that she had picked up, when she'd got the first phone call to say her summer plans were being ruined. One drink gone and the rest of the bottle was glaring at her every time she passed it.

“Will you be comfortable with that?”

“I will stay in a hotel,” Nell offered without thinking. “My place is fairly quiet and this will give Ivan a chance to show you all of the things he's constantly talking about.”

Sending a handful of video games or action figures to London was simple enough. What they couldn't send was the park and the duck pond that Ivan was constantly telling his father about. Packing an entire youth football league would also be a challenge. Nell would love to watch as the upscale home was overrun with muddy children, maybe another time. Who was she trying to kid, Henry would love that. He'd be the ring leader.

Ireland would be a bigger challenge. Taking Henry out of his element. He would spend his time looking over his shoulder, worrying about not only his, but Ivan's privacy. In London he had a handle on who would be coming and going, in Dublin there would be an unknown and uncomfortable factor. Nell would enjoy that.

The one time there had been any issues, was when a debate sparked online. Was the boy a family friend? A God-Son? His own child? Eventually people grew bored of arguing with one another, settling the debacle when a wizard of a publicist asked for the child's privacy. Ivan was young and aware that he had to be mindful when he spoke to people or went places with his father, though he never seemed bothered when the odd person would stop Henry and ask for a moment of time. It was normal, in a strange way, to the boy. He would wait patiently often milling around close by. Henry's mammoth of a dog warning off any body who dare look at Ivan.

“And Kal?” Obviously Henry had to have a place for the bear masquerading as a dog.

“My place is pet friendly, no worries. Kal can come as well.”

“Excellent, I know how much he loves Ivan.”

The black and white dog  was the object of Ivan's affection as well.

Nell had vetoed the idea of having a pet, a child and an animal were too much for one person to wrangle and look after. When Ivan was older, if he still wanted a pet, then they would discuss it. Whatever they ended up with as a pet, would certainly not be a 100 and something pound dog. Kal was lovely and if he suited Henry, fine. Ivan could love on and play with the giant canine on his father's time.

“I have the dates, I was hoping that the end June until the second week of July would work? If they don't, then we can discuss and find something that works for both of us.” Henry wasted no time getting back to business. He had a limited time frame and wanted to chat with Ivan as well, before he had to go.

“I'm done the second week of June and don't have to be back until mid July. Send me the exact dates, I will make sure to set something up.”

“If I am putting you out in any way, you would tell me? I don't want to disturb your plans.” Of course he was diplomatic, too.

“You're not.” Lie. “It will be nice to have you here. Ivan will love it. Though, I'm not telling him until you're here. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Brilliant. I love that. I won't say a word, we can surprise him together.” Henry beamed. He understood that the surprise element was a matter of protection. Schedules were hectic at times, if he failed to make it, Ivan would be crushed. How did one boy get so lucky, having a mom like the one his son had. “Hopefully the wild boy finds dear ol' dad a good surprise.”

“I am sure he will find it a fantastic surprise.” Nell smiled softly. “And I am sure you want to talk to him?” Henry nodded. “He's upstairs, hold on I'll take you to him.”

Monday came fast and hard. Nell hadn't realized how little she managed to get done the previous day, until 3:30am hit and she was anything but prepared for work. Ivan's lunch was ready and his school uniform clean, the least she could do for Bridie who was coming over at the ass crack of dawn to take over the household for the day.

In an absolute state of disarray, having woke from a restless night tossing and turning – a pattern that was unavoidable whenever she spoke to or saw Henry – Nell drug herself out of the house and to set. It was going to be the longest day. Fingers crossed there would be a lull and she could steal on of the extra beds set out for the actors. Nobody would notice if she stepped away for a short cat nap.

Today was going to be...interesting to say the least.

“Morning, Nell.” Alex held out a take away cup from her favourite cafe. He was the first person Nell had saw since arriving. “I uh, Jordan told me how much you liked their coffee. It's my favourite, too.” he added fairly fast.

“Uh, thanks.” Nell accepted the coffee with a smile. How sweet of him. Deep down Nell could admit Alex wasn't that bad. “How was your weekend?”

“Same shit, different weekend.” Alex chuckled following Nell into the room. Holding the door open for her, like the gentleman his mother had raised. “And yours?”

“It was okay.”

“That's good.” He took a sip of coffee, hoping to find courage and words at the bottom of the hot, dark, liquid. “Busy week ahead.”

“Extremely, I'll be shocked it any of us leave here before next Monday.” Nell commented setting her coffee down on the nearest table, flipping on lights and checking stations as she went. “Are you here or one of the other sets this week?”

“I am all over.” Alex confirmed with a sigh. He loved his job. It was rewarding and more than he could have ever dreamed, like any job when you were this close to a break, each day drug on for an eternity. In a few short weeks, he could kick back with family and friends at home in Copenhagen.

“Keeps the days from ever being boring.” This morning talking with Alex had been easier than any other. Something about his lack of idle chatter was refreshing. Or maybe it was Nell's need for a distraction.

Coughing, he rubbed the back of his neck. Monday  morning, first thing, was an unlikely time and place to ask a girl on a date and yet Alex had to try it out. He'd stayed up almost all night going over this moment in his head. Laying awake, he'd almost gone into Marco's room to get some coaching from his friend. Thinking better of the rash decision, Alex had let Marco sleep.

“Nell.” He went suddenly shy. Nell hummed and tilted her head in his direction, a sign that he had her attention despite her looking over a set of notes from a previous shoot. “I uh, I have something to ask and if you say no, then I will never ask this again.” He bit his bottom lip. Asking somebody for coffee had never been so difficult. A sign he was into her more than he expected. Or so Sophie had told him.

“Would, I mean, if you want...” Alex stammered. “Do you want to get together and have coffee? Outside of work? Maybe? Sometime?”

“Are you asking me out?” Nell's reaction was calm and reined in. Lifting her head to look at Alex, she held his gaze.

Alex had expected her to burst out laughing or her to tell him to fuck right off. There was still time for either or both to happen.

“Kind of, but not on a date or anything. Unless you want it to be. It's more of two people hanging out and getting to know one another.”

“Hmm.”

“Sophie told me to.” He blurted out before he could engage his mind to mouth filter.

Nell held his gaze, uncertainty was settled and Alex knew he had been defeated. Time to quit his job, move away, and change his name never to be located again. He had royally fucked it up this time. What made him think she would ever want to speak to him outside of being polite at work? Damn it, Sophie filling his head with fantasy and fairy tales.

“What if you join me for that scotch, instead?” Nell dropped the ball as easily as breathing.

All the air that had been held up in Alex's lungs escaped.  A smile broke on his face. “I would like that. Yeah.”

“Good, what about Friday at eight?”

“Yeah. Yes. I will pick you up?”

“It's a date, then.” Nell held up her coffee, in a cheers manner. Where the hell had that come from? She should have put a stop to this, but...why? A harmless drink never hurt anybody.

“You need to get out more. Find a hobby? Have some fun.” Henry's words echoed in the moment.

A date. Nell had been the one to call it a date. Not him. No, not Alex. Wow Monday was going great and it was only 5:45am! Huh, Monday. Whoever said Monday sucks had never been in this position.

@funmadnessandbadassvikings , @kawennote09, @smutgoblin , @nickysurfer28 , @peaceisadirtyword, @igetcarriedawaywithyou , @lif3snotouttogetyou, @akamaiden @angelaiswriting, @neeadinghugs, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly, @ilvebeenabad , @naaladareia, @imgoldielikehawn @tephi101, @sdcyumyum @unacceptabletatertots, @sparklemichele , @titty-teetee , @smolasianwinterbean , @capitanostella , @captstefanbrandt @bloodyivar  , @normanallthewayforever  , @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme , @imyourliquor-youremypoison , @nikky-the-writer  , @seremedyxiii , @laketaj24 , @deleteidentity , @tornupandbored , @hoeghfabulous , @ateliefloresdaprimavera  , @mydarlingwhim , @kenzieam , @jar-of-love ,  @angelswannawearmyredshooz , @manuugxlvis  , @lost-in-my-thoughs , @ivars-snowflake , @lisinfleur , @fumblingthroughchaos @pebblesz892 , @nelson-and-murdock , @nothingeverdies, @bluearchersstuff  @itsspecial-itsnotforeveryone, @ivarlothbroks, @badassbaker  @cris101071 @fucktrucks @ohjules @mrsadrianraines  @angelic-kisses13 @whenimaunicorn @marthasantos95 @atlanticowe @hows-my-hair @omgshuddupmeg @moviegirl50 @havenoffandoms @gearhead66​ @happydaysandersen​ @rekdreams-fandom​ @lovemylife2618​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @heavenly1927​ @zoe-rachel-crisp​ @blogandreea11​ @shileen91​ @geekandbooknerd​ @mzliterarydreamer​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @ainatirb-j​ @carlya65​ @sawendel​ 

- if you want to be added?removed, please let me know

[willmelon]

i don’t usually do this but i feel Compelled to do a liveblog/review of Mouth Dreams so here goes

Please don’t read this if you haven’t heard the album yet as it’ll spoil Everything

(i’ll admit the idea came to me After i listened to Just a Baby so these first ones are gonna be relistened reviews)

first we got Yahoo. what can i say about this song? neil starts off Strong with incredibly sustained notes and just one phrase, in typical neil style. and he makes it work in so many different ways! honestly didn’t expect myself to get so attached so fast but that’s just the way his magic works ig. when the hoooooooos harmonise it almost brings tears to the eyes. i would love to see a group of choristers singing this with another guy on an electric keyboard. what a cold open. 9/10

of course then we go on to the titular track, the dimension of sound, the dimension of imagination, the dimension of doors. rod serling narrates the intro in his traditional monotone as the warbling twilight zone theme plays in the background. i tell ya i was actually Screaming when the track finished and he dropped the title! it may not be a song per se, sort of like Blockbuster from Mouth Moods, a ‘filler track’ if you will, but the effort in those fifty seconds cannot be ignored. it just goes to show once again how Good he is at what he does. 6.5/10

oh lawd, my favourite so far, Spongerock. reading the title i had absolutely No idea what to expect. the goofy goober song from the movie? winner takes all from band geeks? i was pleasantly surprised to find myself tapping out queen’s distinctive boom boom CLAP as the song progressed, and i was in complete Hysterics the whole way through, chanting along with the kids as the pirate encouraged me to sing louder. it’s such a beautiful fit the way they mesh together, and it’s one of those mashups that you listen to and think ‘why has nobody done this before?’ but neil is on a higher plane of existence than us and Knows where it’s at. you’re never the same after you’ve listened to Spongerock. 7.5/10

Just a Baby, where i stopped to begin this thing, is a melancholy song, which i’m not usually a fan of. i admit i don’t know the original song so i kept quiet until the last chorus or two. it’s the yang to the yin of Wow Wow from Moods, another sentence-mixer that was like a full Bop and barely gave you time to catch your breath. in Just a Baby you begin to empathise with the singer as he regales confusing times of his constant youth, including the time his mother (a train) shot a man in cold blood. it’s a powerful ballad, and it’s got a tasteful amount of justin bieber adding backing vocals to the chorus. i may have to deduct a few points cos the lyrics are gonna be hard af to remember. 7/10

ok next up we got Superkiller. this one’s totally blind! i’m. ehhhhh okay not diggin this one very much. ok that say something once line being repeated was comedy gold but talking heads are just like. kinda tuneless tbh. i’m glad he’s trying to lassoo it together with u can’t touch this but it’s kinda falling short tbh. i wouldn’t skip it but it’s not as memorable as the previous ones. 5/10

starting Get Happy. i’m not gonna lie i think i Know what this is, there are only so many options after all. i predict it’s a mix of “get dancin’” by disco-tex and the sex-o-lettes and “happy” by bahrrel williams, and i really hope that ain’t the case cos i Love the first one but despise the latter. oh well let’s see if he can pull it off. sounds like village green by the kinks so far lol uhhhh i have no idea what to make of this. okay i feel like i’m gonna like this after all. hey it’s got memorable lyrics at least! is it gonna get faster? or just more bassy? yknow maybe i was too critical at the start, but i had no idea what to expect. this is a feel-good pop song and it’s definitely making me feel happier than i was when i was listening to Superkiller. 7/10

Ribs? wtf do i expect from a song called Ribs lmao another song i’ve never heard of IH IT’S EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE TH WORLD OH YEEEEEEEEES omg i Love this song i sing it to myself when i’m walkin my dog cos his little paws click-clack on the pavement to the exact rhythm of the song omg i’m in Love! another one with odd lyrics but i think after a Lot of repeat listening i’ll be able to properly croon along to this one omg! it reminds me of Best from Mouth Silence in that they’re both about products, only instead of folgers in your cup it’s about chili’s baby back ribs omg neil you’re Perfect! how come more advertisers haven’t contacted you for a product placement deal?? 7.5/10

next we got My Mouth. welcome to? who knows let’s hit play. ooooh minor key. is this a real song? it sounds like oney singing a cover of something. oh That’s the gimmick? 2:30 long i hope there’s something else tbh cos otherwise it’s gonna get pretty thin pretty fast. mm not a fan. the weakest so far imo especially after Ribs blew me away. definitely a bad dream. 3.5/10

Aerolong don’t fail me now! okay see This is how you do a mashup. I DON’T MISS YOU BABAY AND I DO WANNA MISS A THING THAT’S GOLD!! this is just a song about saying bye to your ex lmao i love it. wish it was longer though. 6/10

Sleepin’ here we go! ok in the youtube version the first half of this song is just silence so that wasn’t fun. gee this one’s only moderately better than My Mouth i’m feeling very shortchanged. 4/10

what to expect from Aamoorree? hopefully this one’s another jam but...okay i’m likin this one. it’s Fun and isn’t trying too hard! it’s just a drunk dean martin singing about pizza pie on karaoke night, what more could you ask for lol. 6/10

Where Is My Mom? by the p-p-p-pooo-oo-ooo-oooool of course. i don’t recognise the other song but it’s decent. i’ve listened to slowed-down songs before (the sludgefest chipmunks albums lately) and this one’s kinda ok. not a fan of the ending but points for effort ig. 5.5/10

Fredhammer ay? might there be some peter gabriel in there? undoubtedly. yup there it is lol ok now bring in the flintstones? oh ig that’s fred durst? mm not totally feeling it so far but censoring he** was funny lmao HEY THERE’S SEINFELD i’m wheezin that was a good way to end a song, well done neil. 6.5/10

here goes Limp Wicket. i’m on the edge of my seat. and Again i’m disappointed. is this a bunch of ewoks singing some kind of star wars song? or is it jarjar? either way this is Not a good song. it probably wasn’t before he mashed it up but this wasn’t an improvement. bringing in Fredhammer didn’t help this song much at all, in fact i think it brought both songs down actually. last one was a 7/10 but i Have to dock it points now that it’s a two-parter. as for this one? i’m being generous cos the limp bizkit song was good. 1/10

Cannibals runs for 4 minutes. PLEASE don’t let this be a repeat of the last one. i get that miners can’t dig up gold every time but don’t just show up with a bunch of rocks and iron pyrites yknow i’m just gonna start. i don’t want to be angry at this album. i recognise that sound in the bg! from a cyriak vid i think. thx comin in. loooooooong drone. ugh UGH there are Too many lucid dreams on this album. starting to regret liveblogging this cos i Loved the other three mouth albums. this one’s just falling flat again and again. 3/10

here comes The Outsiders. there is NOTHING to say about this. 1.5/10

come on Johnny. okay that got a laugh out of me, not many songs start with a booing crowd like that, is that meta? wouldn’t put it past him tbh. ah i’ll give it a 5/10, for a kinda filler song it wasn’t too bad.

Closerflies, this has gotta be gold. PLEASE. intro’s goin on for a little too long...mm having never heard the original version of closer i gotta admit i thought it’d be faster, like the one used in Rollercloser in Silence. this version seems very sloppy and sluggish, especially the bassline. 3/10

Nightmovin’ i’m not expecting much OH good intro oh YES now here we go. this is a good one, it’s got clear lyrics and a catchy tune, i’m liking this one more and more by the second. cuts off weird but it’s going into the next one. so i’m gonna leave the rating out of this one and see how it is after the next one.

Whitehouse i’m holding my breath. mm it’s Good but not great tbh. criminal that the last one was half as long as this one. think i’m gonna give both of these songs a 5/10 i doubt they’ll be anyone’s favourites. the title is a nice little joke too i respect that.

Wah! what’s neil’s obsession with using wannabe as a source lmao! it’s another decent one but nothing memorable again. 5/10

Pee Wee Inc i’m expecting big things. good intro I’M IN LOVE okay this is Much better than i imagined it’d be. did he use the radio edit of feel good inc? this is a heck of a way to bring it back to the gold stuff and i wouldn’t be surprised if this is what neil’s head sounds like all the time. 7/10

on to 10,000 Spoons. not sure what to expect from the title. okay this is a Nice one i think. throwback to the likes of Just a Baby with the two songs and the sentence mixing and it’s Good. and really 10,000 spoons is So ironic anyway, don’t you think? 7/10

oh another song called Mouth Dreams? an extro? that was Weird lol ok the intro i wasn’t too keen on, def not as much as the intro, but i got to appreciate it as it went on. like Rlly appreciate it i was beginning to reflect on what a journey i’d been through tonight, especially writing it all down. felt very poetic. and then WHAM, out of nowhere, after being gone for 23 songs, all-star came Back and How! gotta give this one a 7.5/10

keep the train rolling Brithoven! i can hear faint bits of instruments in britney’s song in the back of her audio which sound like a mistake but knowing neil.......yah lmao. this song’s kinda like Promenade (Satellite Pictures at an Exhibition) from Mouth Sounds, i liked what i heard. very nice. 6.5/10

the final song. we’re gonna be hit one more time for Ain’t! and i have NO idea what i’m in for! in the hall of the mountain king eh? is this like a way of looping around to the first song of the first album with classical music? ok the snoring’s a nod to Bustin i’m sure lmao funny anyway. i thought i heard a hey now in there but i must be going nuts. wouldn’t call it a grand finale but it is what it is. 5/10

now the question that must be asked - was Mouth Dreams trying to make a point? was there a reasons so many songs were of lower-quality than previous albums? perhaps it’s just a matter of taste, or perhaps it’s as rod said back on track two, that this album is a doorway into another dimension, and the further you progress, the more mind-rattling, brain-melting concepts you come across. the album gets an average of 5.5 which is kinda disappointing. don’t think i’ll be listening to the whole thing again. thanks for reading!

[chimmyboii]

The Story of Us - Part 1

Masterlist 

Summary: He was a bright orange flame and I was the moth attracted to his light. 

* D/N = Dad’s name!

AN: So this is a fic i’m currently working on, not really sure how many parts there will be but stay tuned!! Feedback and criticism is welcomed!! :))) 

Enjoy!

Part 1

The sound of the TV blaring was enough from me to know something wasn’t right. I took off my shoes quickly and peeked my head through the crack of the living room door. Dad was laying passed out on the couch, snoring like a pig. Empty beer bottles were scattered on the coffee table, one had fallen on the floor spilling on to the carpet. Sighing, I entered the room and walked to his sleeping figure, I tug the remote from his grip gently as I could in hopes of not waking him. I press the red button, shutting the TV off.

Just as I’m about to grip the empty bottles, Dad sits up with a gasp. His blurry eyes look at me, his lips turn down in a frown.

“What are you doing?” I inhale slightly, continuing to tuck two of the bottles under my arm before I grab the rest.

“Cleaning up,” I answer before walking into the kitchen and placing them into the bin.

“Well leave them,” he slurs out, taking the remote and turning the TV back on. I growl under my breath. I go back into the living room and go to grab the rest of the bottles when Dad grips my arm, I wince.

“I told you to fucking leave them, what part of that don’t you understand Y/N!” I pull my arm from his grip; tears slip from my eyes. I hurry back into the kitchen out of his way. I hear him stomp up the stairs to the bathroom. In the kitchen, I let out a sob, rubbing at my arm that I’m sure will bruise. Sniffing, I decide to make myself something to eat, grabbing a lot food to hide in my room to avoid coming out. As I’m cutting my sandwich, Dad comes stumbling into the kitchen. He ignores me and reaches into the fridge and pulls out another beer.

“Dad, you’ve got work tomorrow,” I remind, gently. He barks out a laugh before slamming the fridge shut, causing the contents to rattle inside and me to flinch. “That fucking Joe prick fired me this morning,” he laughs bitterly, “thinks I’m not capable for the job,” He walks over to the drawer and pulls out the bottle opener.

“What?” I whisper, my palms become clammy. “But we’re already late on this months’ rent,” Dad ignores me and continues to struggle opening the bottle. I grip the counter tightly as I begin to feel breathless, a surge of panic overwhelms me. “What are we going to do?” I ask him, voice high. Dad finally pulls the metal cap from the bottle and shrugs at me before taking a large gulp.

“Fuck ‘em,” he slurs walking back into the living room. Tears slip down my cheeks once more.

I stand there for God knows how long, just inhaling and exhaling. The tears had finally stopped. I reach and pull out my phone, looking at email of acceptance from the University, I sniffle before typing in the contact number. It rings four times before a female voice answer.

“Hello, I’m Y/N L/N, I’m calling to withdraw my application,” my voice croaks. The phone call lasts all of three minutes. It took three minutes to cancel my dream. I cry as I look at the mess of the kitchen, my blurry eyes look to the living and see my drunk Dad singing tunelessly to the music on the TV. This is my life now; I’m trapped here with this.

- I walk to the supermarket in town, since we don’t own a car and I don’t have enough money for bus fare. It takes me half an hour to get there and I’m sweaty from the walk. Smoothing back my hair, I walk in and go straight to Customer service. The woman behind the counter eyes me for a moment, taking in my flushed complexion and old clothing. I see the pity in her eyes.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?” I clear my throat.

“Are there any jobs going here?” I ask, trying hard not to sound hopeful. She shrugs.

“Not sure, honey. Hold on while I phone the manager,” I nod rapidly. She punches in the numbers on the phone before pushing the phone against her ear.

“Hey Bob, I got a kid here looking for a job. Can you come down?” She ‘uh-huh’ a few times before she turns to me. “How old are you, honey?”

“18,” She tells this to Bob on the phone. She mutters a few sentences which I don’t hear then hangs up.

“Bob will be with you in a moment,” I nod and move to the side, allowing customers to be served.

A bald man with dark glasses comes down the escalators, he holds a clipboard and I assume he is Bob. I stand straighter as he comes towards me. He smiles politely at me and reaches out a hand to shake.

“Hello, I’m Bob Young. So, you’re looking for a job?” I nod eagerly, Bob looks back at his clipboard. “Well we have some job openings; did you bring an application form?” I reach into my bag and pull out my CV. Bob reads it over. “Well you have good grades, all As and Bs.” He hums for a second. “You don’t have any experience though,” I feel a surge of panic.

“I’m a fast learner, I promise. Whatever job you give me I promise I will do my best and more!” I burst; Bobs eyes widen at this.

“I see,” he says almost wearily. “We have a job opening for 8 hours,”

“Umm… are there other jobs going with more hours?” I interrupt, Bob stops and looks at the clipboard once more.

“Well there is a job that just opened yesterday with 25 hours a week but-”

“I’ll take it!” I almost squeal. Bob lets out a chuckle and considers me a moment.

“25 hours a week is hard work, kid, are you sure your up to it?” I firmly nod. “Okay, well the job requires you to; stack shelfs and serve customers. However, I must tell you these shifts are night shift only.” Night shift is perfect actually, I’ll be gone when Dad arrives home hammered from drinking in the pub.

“That’s fine,” I confirm. Bob talks me through the rest of the responsibilities and tells me I’ll be required training which will start next week. I feel excited for the first time in weeks. He then gives me a tour of the shop, showing me where the fire exits are where the employee cloak room is.

“This is a bit informal,” Bob admits, “Normally, people apply for the job online and we reply via email for a job interview. But I know who you are kid, you’re D/N’s* daughter.” I look down feeling ashamed. In this small town, everyone knows your business. “I’m guessing your dad lost his job?”

“Yeah,” I whisper and Bob nods.

“Well, welcome to the team, Y/N,” He pats my back and flashes me a bright smile before leaving.

-

The till training took an hour and consisted of shadowing another member of staff. I was then placed at the customer service desk, ironically and this has been my position for the last two weeks. Since the supermarket is open 24 hours, it’s important to have staff on at the desk throughout the night. However, at night the shop is quiet and boring; there are barely any customers out after nine o’clock. I lean against the desk, doodling on a piece of paper. It is just me at the desk, my colleague Heather had been asked to give a hand stocking shelfs. I bin the piece of paper and lean my head against my hand, looking out at the dark car park. The desk is situated right by the main entrance which allows me to watch customers come and go. I watch as a black pickup truck pulls up outside the car park. Squinting, I spot what appears to be four boys jumping on the cargo bed. I watch as the boys jump from the back of truck and more exit the vehicle. They make their way into the supermarket, whooping loudly and pushing each other. I cringe at the sudden loud noises. There are seven of them, I note. Security is going to have fun with them. I continue to watch two of the boys laugh and push each other, when a bright flame comes into my view. He looks over at me and I see his lips curve into a small smile.  

His hair is bright orange, hard to miss. The turquoise leather jacket he wore complimented his hair, surprisingly. We continue to stare at each other, his smile growing wider until one of the boys nudges him which causes him to look away. I pull out my phone from under the desk, ignoring the boys completely as the walk past the desk into the aisles, disappearing from my view completely and a small part of me feels deflated. I continue to play the game on phone when a bang is sounded in front of me.

“Shit!” I yelp, almost dropping my phone. In front of me, the orange hair boy pushing a blue basket of shopping towards me. He has a large grin on his face, and I notice one of his front teeth is crooked. I gulp, placing my phone back under the desk. I take a bottle of Coke from the basket and scan it under the red light until it beeps.

“Hello,” he greets, his voice is smooth and has a nice pitch – its sweet and low at the same time. I nod at him with a small smile. I grab a bag of sweeties next and scan them. “How are you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I mummer, feeling a bit shy under his gaze, the smile still on his lips but has grew softer. I grab another bag and scan it, but it doesn’t scan, I try again still nothing. I look at him, “umm…just a second,” He nods, and I move over to the other till to see if it scans there and it doesn’t. I curse quietly under my breath, unsure on what to do.

“Maybe try putting in the barcode manually,” the orange-haired boy suggests. I frown at him, walking back over.

“What do you mean?” He smiles softly at me and reaches his hand out for the bag of sweets; I give them to him. He points to the barcode at the bottom of the packet.  

“See these numbers?” I nod, he continues, “You should be able to type them on the till.”  I let out a ‘ohhh’ before taking the packet back and began to type the numbers on the till, when I press enter the name of the sweets came up along with the price.

“Yes!” I exclaim and the boy let out a laugh. I giggle slightly out of embarrassment, “Sorry, I’m still learning,”

“Ahh, you’re new,” I nod, cheeks feeling hot. “When did you start?”

“Two weeks ago. They never told me I could type the barcodes though. How did you know?” The boy points his thumb behind him, I spot the rest of his friends outside by the truck.

“One of my friends works in retail. He broke the scanner, so he had to type manually for a while,” I smile at him before grabbing the rest of his items without a problem. The last item was a bottle of soju.

“Umm… c-can I see some ID, please?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, he rustles around before letting out a sigh.

“I’ve left it in the truck, can you give me a minute?”

“Yeah that’s fine,” He shoots me a smile before rushing out the door. I watch him quickly dive into the front seat, his bum wiggling slightly as he rustles though the truck. One of his friends kicks his butt which causes the orange haired boy to reach back and rub the area. I let out a laugh at the sight. I frown confused when I see him lean over the dash and from what I can see, scribble something down a piece of paper before slipping it in his turquoise jacket. I jump when leaves the truck slamming the door and running back into the store. Looking at the till, I pretend I’m looking over the items.

“Here you are,” he announces handing me his ID.

Name: Park Jimin Date of Birth: 13 October 1995

He was older than me by two years, I notice. I nod happy he was the legal age and hand him his ID back. I scan the soju and click enter on the till; I turn back to the orange haired boy – Jimin. I open my mouth to speak but he beats me to it.

“My name is Jimin!” he blurts, “You already knew that because of my ID…uhhh shit,” he whispers shaking his head and I giggle. He was cute, I’ll admit.

“I’m Y/N,” I tell him, reach my hand out for him to shake. He clasps my hand and shakes it, the smile back on his face. “Do you need bag for your items, Jimin?”  

“Yeah, please.” I nod and begin to bag his items when Jimin hand shots out, pushing a piece of paper under my nose. I frown at it but take it away. The paper is receipt from somewhere and has a number written in blue ink on it. I look back at Jimin whose cheeks are flushed pink, he runs his hand through his hair.

“I-I was wondering i-if you would like to go out sometime…umm, with me?” he stutters, and my eyes widen. “That’s my number,” he nods to the receipt I’m holding.

“Oh,” I mutter looking down at it. My heart is thumping loudly in my ear. “I-I can’t, I’m sorry,” I watch Jimin’s face fall, his brown eyes make contact with the floor. “I’m flattered, honestly, but I’m just not interested in a relationship,” I lie and Jimin just nods. I go back to packing the rest of his items before looking at the till. “That’ll be 24.25, please.” Jimin pulls out his card and taps it on the contactless screen before grabbing the bag and speed walking off.

“Wait!” I yell, Jimin stops abruptly and turns to me. I grab the receipt that has printed off and wave it at him. “Do you want your receipt?” Jimin shakes his head before practically running out the store.

I sigh as I look the receipt which had Jimin’s number. He was cute, I thought with a small smile. I eye the paper once more before folding it and tucking it in the pocket of my trousers.

[zwiezraczek]

Hellooo!:) can you do 5, 8, 9, 11 &19 with Ben pleaseee? Smth really angsty with fluff at the very end? and don’t worry, take your time:D loove your writing💚

You Should Be Sad [Blurb]

5. “Look at me love, please.” 8. “... Why are you doing this to me?” 9. “You are definitely drunk.” 11. “You're driving me crazy, you know that?” 19. “I spent all my years praying for this moment to come!”

~~~

Dating Ben was probably your biggest mistake from the very beginning. But the best decision album-making wise. The rage he had woken up inside of you fueled every song you wrote for this album, every word, everything. All about him – but you refused to admit it. Everywhere you went, you were reminded of him, of your relationship. Of your love. Something long gone now, it has been almost six months. Six long months, of crying, cursing and desperately wanting him to come back. You were so over this now, at least you thought, you tried to convince yourself you were.

“Y/N, this album is absolutely amazing, and contains so much energy,” the interviewer said, as you sat legs crossed on the red couch with a smile on your face.

“Thank you, I'm glad you like it!”

“But as you know, a question is on everybody's lips as they heard one particular song,” they said, as you already knew what question it would be. The same question you were facing everyday, trying to hold back tears and pride. “'You Should Be Sad', this country inspired song, is it about a past relationship of yours as we all believe it to be?”

“Well, my dear, I will say yes and no,” you lied, you absolutely did but for the greater good. You remembered how the media dragged you down after your breakup, catching pictures of you wearing a black hoodie, puffy eyes and in a mental hell. They stole your privacy, they stole these moments of intimacy you only 'wanted' to share with the ones you cared about, you wanted them to see you like this, and only them. Not your fans. No the media.“It's heavily inspired by what had happened to me a few months ago, with somebody I won't mention in this interview because it's unprofessional, as my manager told me, and it deals with my self-esteem issues that I try to overcome. Because I feel sorry for him letting me go, but it's a hard life as they say.” You smiled, your nails drumming on the armrest of the red couch looking carefree but deep inside, you tried to not break down. Not again.

~~~

You enjoyed yourself, dancing to the beat of the music with Ben, but not only him, Ben and his friends coming especially to London to celebrate the premiere of the movie he got the main role in. The premiere was yesterday, and today you were partying, you, Ben, Joe and Lucy. The others, Gwilym and Rami were quite busy and only came to the premiere yesterday, on which you appeared holding Ben's hand in this long peach puffy dress and a smile on your face because he did it, your boyfriend did it and you couldn't feel more proud about his achievement. A boy you watched on Eastenders a few years ago was holding your hand right now, kissing it gently under the flashes as he held you closer and you burst into a pure laughter. You felt happy and alive. You couldn't know that these were probably the lasts moments of your peaceful love affair.

Joe was your soulmate, and so was Lucy. Both of them knowing how to party, as much as you did. The songs in the club made you ecstatic, pulsing and carefree. Ben danced with you too, but he mostly stayed at the bar, a beer in hand and sometimes went out to light up a cigarette while you still danced with Joe or Lucy. At one moment, he came back, his hands wandering on your hips and his alcohol scented breath warming your neck as you giggled.

“Mr. Jones is dancing? What a surprise,” you said into his ear, facing him with both of your hands on his shoulders. You could forget about the world all around you because he was your world.

“Because you're driving me crazy, you know that,” he asked and you quickly kissed him before nodding.

“That's what your local singer is here for, Benny. To drive you crazy even more than anybody would.”

“Is this allowee? Disgusting,” you heard behind you, Joe. Joe stood there, looking at both of you while tapping Lucy's shoulder.

“I agree,” she replied, making a funny face before Ben turned back to look at them and sighed.

“Killjoys,” Ben said before leaving a kiss on your cheek, “I'm going out for a cigarette.”

“Yeah, go out and smoke, your lungs will thank you later,” Joe shouted as Ben just rolled his eyes before disappearing in the crowd.

But he seemed to never come back, which began to annoy you. And so, you left Joe and Lucy at the bar to go out and look for your boyfriend. The biggest error of your life. You pushed the door leading to the smoking area, and what you saw you couldn't unsee. Ben was facing a girl, her back against the wall as he blocked her with his right hand, his forehead against hers. She smiled, seeming to enjoy the moment. And the next thing you knew, she kissed him. You couldn't tell if he was fine with it, if he was too drunk, or if she was responsible for all of that. But all you knew was that he was, right in front of your eyes, cheating on you.

“What the fuck,” you blurted and they stopped kissing immediately. She still had her hand on Ben's cheek as he looked at you, frightened, understanding now what he had done to you, to your relationship.

“Y/N,” he began, taking off the girl's hand from his cheek.

“Fuck. You,” you replied, pushing the door again and making your way outside the club, running towards the cloakroom where you left your purse and going out the club. Tears began to run down your face as you thought about what he did to you, how much he hurt you by kissing somebody. You were in pain, under the sky full of stars. You walked slowly, your bag against your side, sobbing delicately and hoping that no paparazzi would catch thismoment. You couldn't hear the footsteps behind you, and it only struck you when a heavy hand landed on your shoulder and you turned back to face him. Ben. You looked at him, eyes full of rage as he tried to prevent you from walking.

“Look at me love, please,” he whispered and you did what he asked for. But without any trace of love in your eyes, you felt rage and anger. You wanted to kill him, you wanted to kill that girl, you wanted to be at peace.

“I'm looking at you now, so? Tell me something to amuse me,” you wittily replied, but it hurt so much.

“I'm so sorry, y/n, I don't know what happened to me I just,” he began to explain himself, but you couldn't hear what he was saying, the image of him kissing her coming back in loops in your mind.

“Why are you doing this to me,” you asked him, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I'm not enough? I'm not filling the hole in your fucking heart, I wasn't enough? You needed some adrenaline and to kiss a girl?”

“It's not that, y/n, I...”

“You liked it,” you asked, your eyes shinning with tears as he remained silent. “Did you like it?” You repeated more violently this time. “Is she a better kisser than I am? Will she be herefor you? I hope she'll be fucking better than me in bed, Ben. I truly hope you'll have a better life without me.”

“Without... You,” the surprise was covering his whole face. He couldn't understand the words you told. He refused to understand. But you were clear, even if it hurt.

“You'll be able to live without me I guess, I'm packing my things and leaving tonight.” It was your decision, you didn't want to hear his excuses, you didn't want to hear his voice begging for forgiveness when he would sober up a bit.

“You can't leave,” he whispered, his hand slowly slipping from your shoulder.

“Yes, I can. Goodbye Ben.”

You turned back, silently crying as you walked down the street. It was all over now.

~~~

And you broke. Again. Once you reached your apartment, you began to cry. The decision you made on that night pained you immensely. And everytime you tried to put together all the feelings you had towards what had happened, the remaining feelings you had for Ben, you had to cry. You would sit under a blanket, looking at the white ceiling as you tried to not cry and to think about something else. And everytime you grabbed your phone, you sawpictures of you and him. Your Instagram's timeline wasn't better than your storage, neither the tweets talking about wanting the two of you to be back together. You wished all never ended like this, you wished you listened to him instead of fleeing. You wished so many things... You were only thankful for Lucy being on your side while talking with you, she called you often to know how you were feeling, and often, you lied. Joe called sometimes too, you lied too. You thought you could feel better after some time, after parties, after writing your album and pouring all your emotions into it... But it all made it worse. You blocked him on every social media, and his phone number, but you caught yourself looking at his account more often than usual, smiling when Joe posted a picture of both of them on vacation. You wished you could be part of his life, but you didn't let him be, you refused any explanation. You refused this, only to be sad. You wished he was sad, but you were the one suffering instead.

Your telephone rang, an unknown number. You wiped the tears away and picked up.

“Y/N,” the voice you perfectly knew asked faintly.

“What do you want,” you said strongly, faking the confidence you lacked. It was easier through this device.

“I can't live without you, I can't,” he complained as you heard the tune of his voice: he was drunk.

“You are definitely drunk Ben, don't call me while you're drunk. Don't call me at all.”

“Y/N,” he cried out to not let you hang up, “please, let me tell you something and then I'll leave you forever if you wish. I promise I'll leave you,” he whispered and you hummed to let him speak. “I don't know how many times I told you that I'm sorry, but I have to tell it again. I'm sorry, y/n, I'm sorry about everything I did to you, about the pain I caused to you, about everything. I was drunk, but that's no excuse, I'm drunk right now and I know that's not an excuse, I just... I lost it all. I lost everything on that night. I lost you. I already told you that, but I've felt empty for the last six months, I felt every hour passing by, without you. I'm not half the man I think I am, I'm not worth of your attention, I probably never was in the first place. I wanted, and still want to marry you. I spent all my life praying for this moment to come! To find my wife! And I screwed it up,” he whispered after pouring all of his emotions into your ear. “So I beg you, with my whole heart, I beg you, can we talk, can we meet? Tomorrow? Tonight? Whenever you want, I want to apologize for everything in person because I couldn't, because I am coward because...”

“Tomorrow, in the studio. There will be nobody around noon, so come if you wish,” you said, before hanging up. Then, you burst into tears. And you couldn't put your finger on the emotions you felt.

~~~

You sat in the studio, all by yourself, with a large sweater on you, curled up on the couch. You waited for him to show up, and the first thing you saw when the door in front of you opened, was a great bouquet of flowers. The biggest you ever saw, the most beautiful bouquet you saw in your whole life. And then, you saw him and his eyes. These beautiful eyes, tired, looking at you apologetically. You straightened on the couch, sitting properlynow and waited for him to sit next to you, but instead he knelt in front of you, offering you the bouquet, his head looking down.

“No apologize will be enough, nothing will be enough to repair my fault, not this apologize neither the ones I presented to you before.” And indeed, these were countless, but you always refused. And he gave up, for almost two months before calling you yesterday. “I am sorry for hurting you, I never wanted to cheat on you, I never intended to break the relationship we shared. I am so sorry, y/n, I hope you will forgive me.”

“Ben, I...” You started, but you couldn't finish your sentence properly, crying already as he rose his head to look at you. You saw all his features, blurry, through the curtain of yourtears. “I miss you so much, I miss you so much Ben... There is no day on which I don't think about you, and even that stupid album I made... I wanted you out of my life with this album, but singing about you made it even more difficult Ben, believe me...”

“I can only imagine what you felt,” he said, putting the bouquet next to you and grabbing your hand, hesitantly. But you didn't took it from his. “I can't live without you, without yourvoice and your songs, I can't live without you humming as you were trying to cook something in the kitchen, I can't live without your smile... And yes, I was sad as I should have been, I felt pain and anger towards myself and I regret everything I did. I missyou, and I still love you, y/n.” He kissed your hand gently. And you caressed his cheek. “Will you forgive me one day,” he asked, unsure of anything.

“I'm already forgiving you Ben, I'm already doing it...”

~~~

(Tumblr refused to let me put these tags and to show my post in the "ben hardy" tag so... Well... Here I am)

[loki-hargreeves]

Loki’s 12 days of X-Mas - Tony’s Christmas Party

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking so long. Being sick is the worst. Anyway, I’m catching up on these. Hope you like them! :) Loki’s 12 days of Christmas Warning: just fluff, a bit of alcohol, this is such a cliché  Word Count: 2,3K Summary: You and Loki attend one of Stark’s iconic Christmas parties. It doesn’t take long until you find yourself under pressure with no other than Loki. The entire team has gotten enough of your flirting going nowhere. You’re in for a wild night...

Third POV

“...It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas....” The infamous tune played softly on Y/N’s lips, filling the room with melody. It was already dark outside, but the New York lights made it easy to see the cold snowflakes falling down from the sky. The Avengers were all gathered for once to celebrate Christmas. Tony Stark had hosted a party and he even invited Loki. Sure, Tony said it was only out of kindness and because he didn’t want Y/N to kick his ass, but unbeknownst to Loki and Y/N, the man of iron had other plans. 

Loki was going to pick her up from her room at the compound, not expecting to hear her sing along to a song so jolly. So far, she hadn’t even noticed him as she walked across her room, her hips swaying in her crimson red dress. Loki could harly believe how beautiful she was. In his eyes, Y/N was a goddess in disguise. It was almost a shame that they were just friends. Deciding not to be a creep, Loki cleared his throat which made her jump.

“Loki! I didn’t see you...” Y/N seemed flustered, which was just adorable. She was quick to brush it off with a beaming smile. She was ready to go. Even though the pary was a few floors up, it felt appropriate to go there together. 

“I can’t blame you, now can I? Sneaking up on people is my specialty,” Loki teased her lightly, earning a giggle from her. He noticed her black heels now and how beautifully she had done her makeup and hair. Her look was so contrary to her armour and tight suits. She looked great in anything. “You look beautiful,” Loki let her know smoothly, hoping he didn’t sound too much in awe. 

The compliment made her roll her eyes, but little did Loki know the words went right to her core. “You’re such a gentleman sometimes, I swear...” She mumbled and grabbed her small purse and then closed the distance between them. As a Prince, Loki had manners and he had not forgotten about them. He offered her his arm to hold on which she gladly did. “You look good in that black suit, by the way.”

A gentleman, indeed, but not for everyone. Most people treated Loki like the plague - they avoided him and believed his touch resulted in a painful death. Y/N was different. She welcomed the Trickster with open arms and made him feel like a person. It had taken time, but eventually Loki let down his walls when he was with her and he could be himself. For her, he was his truest self, a prince who would treat her like a princess. Nevertheless, they were just friends and he kept reminding himself of that. 

They entered the elevator at the same time as Natasha and Clint. Y/N greeted them happily, which they returned. But when it came to Loki, the duo didn’t seem as happy. “Do you think Tony will pull off any crazy stunts this year?” Y/N wondered innocently, remembering the parties from previous years. Tony was known to go overboard quite often. 

“We’ll just have to wait and see, Y/N,” Natasha smirked with mischief in her voice. Loki noticed. Natasha glanced at Y/N and then at Loki and her smirk grew. It wasn’t that obvious, but it didn’t escape Loki’s sight. He knew right then at that moment that they were up to something. 

As the elevator doors opened, the four of them were welcomed with drinks. They walked further inside the party and separated as different people got up to greet them. Thor made his way to Loki and Y/N. “Brother! Lady Y/N! I’m so happy to see you arrived,” the blonde prince beamed of joy. Y/N let go of Loki’s arm to hug the God of Thunder.

“It’s good to see you, Thor,” She said as they parted from the hug. Loki didn’t like the jealousy that formed in the pits of his stomach. He knew very well Y/N wasn’t his, but he didn’t want Thor to take her. It was his biggest fear - to lose what he loved to his brother. 

“You came just in time. Stark said the food is ready. Come, I’ll show you to the table,” Thor offered in a friendly manner. Y/N grabbed Loki’s arm and they followed Thor to the long tables on the other side of the common room that reminded them more of a nightclub right now. 

So when they entered the dining hall, it surprised them. It was so cozy and it smelled delicious. Tony and Pepper had only invited some friends and of course, the Avengers. They would feast before the true party. Y/N already knew that it would end up a drunken mess before midnight. 

The host himself spotted Y/N and Loki and he just had to welcome them personally. “Finally! I thought you wouldn’t come,” Tony pulled Y/N into a friendly hug which was well returned.

“I couldn’t ghost you on this day, Tony, now could I?” Y/N chuckled. The two of them were close, everyone knew that. Even when Y/N and Loki became close, Tony never cut ties, although everyone knew what he had initially thought about the Trickster getting close to Y/N - the sweetheart of the team. 

Loki and Tony simply shook hands. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad you came, Reindeer games.”

That nickname. Loki had no clue what it meant. Reindeer games? It wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so Loki ignored it. “Well it would’ve been quite rude not to show up,” Loki shrugged, playing it cool. After all this time, there was still tension between the two of them. 

“Well, take your seats. I hope you’re hungry because the food is ready. Pepper made her iconic, absolutely fantastic roasted potatoes. God, I can’t wait to dig in,” Tony seemed excited for once. 

Just like that, everyone sat around the table. Y/N and Loki were sat next to each other, which was just what they hoped for too. The food was served and luckily everyone seemed hungry.

                 An hour later, everyone had eaten. They moved from the dining hall to the common room where the actual party got started. Drinks were downed and people got drunk very fast. Eventually, they gathered around the couch because someone suggested they’d have a drinking game. 

Loki knew he wouldn’t get drunk on Midgardian alcohol, but Thor had thought of that beforehand. He had booze from Asgard which the brothers shared - Thor a bit more than Loki. 

Y/N sat next to Loki on the soft couch, a little bit too close perhaps, but neither of them seemed to mind. After all, they were a little bit tipsy already, not drunk but it was enough to make them more comfortable. 

“Okay, okay...” Tony raised his hands up, making all heads turn to him. “What if, hear me out, what if we played truth or dare,” the billionaire suggested, making some people laugh. 

“What are we, 14?” Bucky joked which made Steve giggle. 

Tony simply rolled his eye, “come on! It can be fun. Besides, if someone doesn’t do their deed, it costs a shot.”

That’s how a bunch of super soldiers, gods and avengers ended up playing truth or dare. It began with silly dares and truths that embarrassed people. Eventually, a very drunk Sam had his turn to pick a victim. “Y/N!” The falcon pointed at his friend who was cuddled against Loki by now. Just friends, Sam thought as a smirk grew on his face. “Truth or dare?”

Even Loki was curious now. What would she choose?

“Dare,” Y/N chose confidently, having no clue what could possibly happen. 

People seemed surprised and some even gasped in surprise. For some odd reason, everyone in the room seemed too interested in this. Loki was worried something stupid was about to happen. 

Sam had a devilish smile on his face and his friends refelcted that just as well. “I dare you to kiss whoever you like in this room. Now.” 

Was he for real?

Y/N’s heart jumped to her throat as the words sunk beneath her skin. Sure, she had had two or three drinks, but she was sober and she knew how dangerous this could be. Suddenly, she became very aware of just how close she sat next to Loki. “Sam, are you kidding me?”

“It’s a dare, Y/N,” Sam shrugged and had the audacity to look Loki right in the eye.

The god was tense. He was worried Y/N would get up from the couch and smooch someone else. It would be humiliating! Although, he hated the crowd, he kind of wished she would kiss him - if anyone. 

“I swear you guys are so childish. How can you be so sure I like anyone?” Y/N crossed her arms and pouted. She was flustered again and she tried to hide that desperately. 

A bunch of ‘come on’s and eyerolls erupted in the room as she said that. Everyone under the same roof knew she must’ve fancied Loki. Their chemistry was obvious, it radiated to every inch in whatever place they occupied. Sometimes, it was sickening that they didn’t act on it. So the avengers had come up with a silly plan to bring them together. If not now, when?

“Y/N, we’re not blind. Come on! It’s just a kiss,” Sam urged her on.

Just a kiss?!

“Or do you want to take a shot? I mixed hot sauce in it - delicious,” Tony suggested and held up a shotlgass of something that looked very nasty. 

Y/N’s nerves were burning up. Sure, she had wanted to kiss Loki for ages now. She wanted nothing more than to embrace him and make him feel happy. But she was so scared of rejection. Perhaps, if it all went south, she could blame it on peer pressure and alcohol? 

After a few deep breaths and being encouraged by everyone in the room, Y/N turned to look at Loki who seemed oblivious to the situation. Whether it was a show he put on or if it was really him, no one knew. Their eyes met and shame burned through Y/N. Why was she doing this? She wasn’t sure, but it was too late to stop now. “Do you mind? I-I just want to get this over with...” Y/N wondered shyly, her voice barely carrying above the chants of people cheering her on. 

Loki’s heart swelled in his chest. She wanted to kiss him? He could hardly believe it to be true, but he was not going to let this chance slip through his fingers. Perhaps the small amount of booze was enough to make Loki comfortable enough to push through as well. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be so persuaded by such foolish games. “Not at all,” He smiled and hoped it would help her relax. 

Just like that, Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki’s head and closed the gap between their lips, bringing him into a long-awaited kiss. Their lips locked warmly and both hearts began to beat a little bit faster. Adrenaline rushed through the two of them as they finally kissed. Y/N closed her eyes and closed out the other people. For just a moment, it was just the two of them. Loki’s tender hand held onto her, resting on the back of her head as his other hand held onto her jaw, cupping her face ever so gently. 

He couldn’t believe what was happening, but it felt so good. He couldn’t care less about people watching right now. Finally, he was kissing Y/N and it sent his mind to an euphoric state. 

After a while, their lips parted. Both of them wanted to pull in for another kiss, but for now, they could only look at each other in awe. They were stunned. 

Natasha decided to break the silence, “God, finally!”

Both Y/N and Loki turned to look at the crowd that had seen that. Suddenly, Y/N felt a little bit embarrassed, but truth be told, she was so happy that it didn’t really matter. “I..I need some air. Nat, you can take my turn,” Y/N cleared her throat and got up. Joy and realization were overwhelming Y/N’s mind and she needed a moment without all these people around her. 

Silently, Loki got up and followed Y/N outside. They were on a balcony together and the cool air around them felt good. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Y/N admitted nervously, her smile bright as ever. 

Loki wished she didn’t regret it. “Does that mean you have feelings for me? Or was that simply a dare?”

Did he have any idea what he was doing to her? Y/N was shocked, honestly. How did he not know how deeply and foolishly she had fallen for him? Did he think, after all this time, that she would kiss him with no true feelings attached? 

“Loki! I would never...I mean, gosh! This is embarrassing, but I really like you,” There, she finally said it. 

Hearing her vocalize her feelings meant the world for Loki. He felt like the happiest man in the nine realms as she admitted that. “I thought I’d never hear it, love.”

The petname lit up Y/N’s pretty eyes. “Wait- does that mean...?” She seemed to shy to finish the sentence, but Loki saw the hope on her face. 

“I care for you too. Never would I have thought I’d let you know of this in this way, but I suppose it’s better than keeping it a secret,” Loki decided to be completely honest with her. He knew he had nothing to lose now. She just admitted she liked him. What could possibly go wrong anymore?

It surprirsed Loki when Y/N leapt into his arms. He caught her, wrapping his arms around her waist, just in time before she would’ve slipped with those heels on. No words were exchanged as their lips closed into a passionate kiss once more.  This time, it was for their eyes only and it felt much better. Joy, love, relief - everything they felt became so evident in the kiss and it felt magical. It was definitely long-awaited.

Who would’ve thought a silly game of truth or dare would’ve led them to confess? 

A/N: As I’ve said before, I don’t know how to do fluff, but for you I really tried. Also, I just want to write happy!Loki for now, he’s suffered enough. This is such a cliché, but after iw and endgame, I’ve learned to love that. A classic avengers truth or dare, I hope you liked it! :)

[touchingoldmagic]

Day 25: Bad Ending AU

Day 25 of the 30 Day Ghostbusters Challenge! 

Author’s Notes: I don't like bad endings and I'm not really big on AU's, so this is the prompt I was dreading the most of them all. I don't really like how it came out, but I'm out of ideas at this point. Sorry of it’s boring. And for the fact that it doesn’t really feel like GB at all.

She didn't know how things got out of control so fast.

The fire alarm went off at 3:00 P.M. at Spruce Street Elementary that day. Almost immediately it cut off, causing classrooms of students and teachers to halt their lessons in confusion and wait for something more. Seconds later the principal came over the intercom and asked all teachers to bring their students to the gym.

Nancy Bridge stared at the intercom hanging on the wall, surprised. She hadn't been told there would be a fire drill today, and teachers were always told ahead of time. But this was clearly something else. She couldn't imagine what. The unknown sent ripples of anxiety through her.

"Mrs. Bridge! Are we going to see a play?" Lisa Little asked.

Nancy forced her worries away with a smile. "You're going to find out!" She clapped her hands. "Come on, everyone, line up by last name, just like we practiced."

Her kindergarten class scrambled to obey, with a wave of excited talking and the accompanying screech of chairs on linoleum. The group of fifteen 5- and 6-year-olds created chaos for a short time at the classroom door. Nancy called for quiet as she did a quick head count twice. When she was sure she had everyone, she opened the door.

Oscar Barrett stood at the front of the line. "Lead everyone right to the gym, Oscar. No running," she said, standing back to watch and make sure everyone left the room. She was lucky this year. When the first kid in line was one who could focus, like Oscar, they rarely had any trouble traveling down the halls. "Stay in line! Watch the person in front of you. No, no running, Michael." The secret to success for young children, in Nancy's experience, was repetition and reminders.

The hallways were filled with students and teachers, and even with the reminders to be quiet it was still a dull roar, there was no way around it. But everyone was heading in the same direction, which made travel easier.

Nancy traded bewildered looks with Marsha Dutton, the other kindergarten teacher, as they filed down the hall, watching the backs of their charges. She could tell Marsha knew no more of what was going on than she did.

Fred Gardner, the vice principal, was standing by the heavy metal gym doors, keeping one propped open with his foot, as kids filed inside.

"What's going on, Fred?" Nancy asked as her class passed through and headed for their assigned spots on the gym floor.

Fred shook his head and adjusted his glasses. "There's some sort of national emergency. We're keeping the kids here until their parents or guardians pick them up. Just keep everyone calm and seated."

National emergency. Nancy felt like she had been punched. What did that even mean? It couldn't be Russia? She looked into the gym, watching to make sure her class was seated where they were supposed to.

The elementary school's gym could fit the entire school within, just barely, with children seated in their practiced rows and taking up just about every inch of space available on the floor.

Teachers walked up and down the rows, moving students closer together with little hand gestures, keeping the aisles clear, reminding children to stay seated if they got up. One of the benefits of assembly was that fewer teachers were needed to watch over all the students in a large group.

"Nancy, come see this."

Nancy turned at the sound of the voice. One of the sixth grade teachers had joined them at the gym doors. She was embarrassed that she couldn't remember his name. "See what?"

His face was white. "Teacher's lounge. The news is on. Go see." He nodded to Marsha, standing next to Nancy, to include her as well.

Nancy and Marsha exchanged a look. They went.

The teacher's lounge had a television with cable against the back wall. Usually it had a round lunch table in front of it, but today that had been pushed aside. Today the room was crowded with teachers, gathered around the TV in a semicircle.

Usually Nancy wished she was a bit shorter. A 5'11" woman wasn't someone that a lot of men were comfortable with. But today it was an asset, as she could see over the heads of most of the people between her and the screen. Marsha, beside her, raised herself up on her toes and tipped her head up as much as she could.

"Shh, shh, he's coming back on," one of the teachers said. Nancy only had a brief glimpse of some recorded footage of a street before it was replaced with the image of a news reporter. The teachers all fell silent, trained as well as their children.

"Thank you, ah," the news anchor was saying. "If you're just tuning in, the governor has announced a state-wide emergency. Evacuations are beginning, with areas being cleared as soon as safe routes can be established. The Ghostbusters have not yet been reached for comment."

The man kept talking, but the screen changed. His image was replaced with another view of the street. This time, Nancy recognized it. It was on the Upper West Side. Two men were on the screen, homeless men judging by the state of their clothes and the ratty hats pulled down on their heads. There was also a uniformed police officer, yelling and gesturing at them.

"We apologize for the graphic nature of the information being presented. This was recorded earlier today, shortly before eleven." The news anchor said something else, but Nancy wasn't listening anymore.

The two men on the screen were clearly injured. Blood ran down their arms and their chests, and they walked like they were drunk. They lurched toward the uniformed officer, who pulled out his gun. The two injured men had no reaction. As they closed in on the officer, there were small red muzzle flashes and little 'pop pop' sounds on the recording as he opened fire.

They didn't fall down.

Nancy felt a wave of vertigo. This was insane. This was... Her brain stopped giving her words, and just sent feelings. She put a hand to her chest. On the screen the officer fell down, screaming, with the two men on top of him.

She needed to get back to the gym and watch her children.

Nancy stumbled out of the teacher's lounge, trading places with one of the fourth grade teachers coming in to see.

--

Hours passed. The last school bells didn't ring, and the buses didn't come. Bagged lunches were brought from the cafe and passed around. Teachers escorted children to the restrooms in pairs or small groups. Other teachers came and went with updates from the news. People all over Manhattan were acting like the two homeless men. The evacuation was continuing. The police were stretched thin. No one knew where the Ghostbusters were.

Two thirds of the gym was empty now, but not one teacher had left the school grounds, as far as Nancy knew. United by their responsibilities to their charges, they all remained. Nancy's husband was a nurse at Lower Manhattan Hospital; she had called there three times but hadn't gotten through. Still, she wouldn't leave the school. Not as long as children remained on the premises.

She sat next to Oscar Barrett and Lisa Little, the only two of her class that still remained. The others she had escorted to the outside doors, one by one, as their parents had arrived to get them.

Lookouts were posted at the doors to run to the gym any time parents arrived. So far they had been lucky. No lookouts reported seeing anyone looking suspicious or injured hanging around the school parking lot.

At first Nancy had watched the gym doors, bracing herself for any time the lookouts appeared, waiting for the report that they were under attack. She couldn't bear to look anymore, and spent her time now with her last two students, her back to the door.

"Nancy." The quiet voice and the gentle hand on her shoulder still made her jump. She turned to find Marsha, who smiled apologetically for scaring her. "Sorry, dear. The lookout just came in."

Her smile broadened, and for once since this nightmare had started, she looked hopeful. "Oscar's father is here for him. He's out front in, you know, that car. He’s alone. But, I mean, he's here."

Oscar looked up, hearing his name. "Dad?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Nancy's heart surged from her stomach to her throat all at once, and she understood the hope in Marsha's face. The Ghostbusters.

[youre-in-the-jungle-baby]

Tommy/Nikki

It wasn’t Nikki’s job to clean puke off the dashboard of the car. Especially if it wasn’t his own, regardless of whether or not it was his best friends. Because you’re supposed to have boundaries, and he was calling this one right here and he was sticking to it. He could do that if he wanted.

It wasn’t like he didn’t feel bad for Tommy, if it was a night where it was bad enough to send his body on the path of expelling the alcohol as opposed to sucking it up and hammering through it like most nights, he could only imagine what Tommy must be feeling. Or how many shots he'd done to get him there. Then again, Tommy probably wasn’t feeling anything besides vaguely nauseous and dizzy at this point. That didn’t mean he felt bad enough to clean up his mess just yet.

Tommy’s shoulders tense for the second time that night, and Nikki’s brain is sent into a flurry of figuring out how to open the passenger door from the driver's side seat and then how to get the seatbelt off of the man in the seat before shoving him out of the car. He curses under his breath and resigns himself to letting it happen. The damage had already been done for the most part.

“Nikki-” the tone reminds him of the sound that the old calico cat he'd had when he was little had made before it threw up. Except at least with a cat there was usually time to scoop it up and deposit it solidly outside and skip over a mess on the carpet much like the mess that had spread to the floor of the car now.

He’s sure that the last of Tommy’s dignity had gone with it when he sits back in the seat with a heavy sigh and a blank look on his face. Taking his hand off of where it had been gripping the wheel, even though the car had been parked outside the apartment complex for the past fifteen minutes, Nikki stares intently at the street light in front of them. It’s late, pushing two in the morning and he’s wide awake and he knows that if he went home right now, clean car or not, he wouldn’t be falling back asleep.

“Sorry ‘bout your car,” Tommy says, or at least that’s what he hears. It’s hard to tell right now. This is why he’d never liked being the designated driver, too much to worry about when you’re the only sober one and suddenly you have to deal with someone else's drunk bullshit instead of dishing it out and enjoying yourself. But he’d sucked it up for Tommy and picked up the phone when he’d called still half sober to invite Nikki to the bar he was currently at (or perhaps listening to Vince whine the entire night since he was still moping around from a bad cold and sore throat that he hadn’t managed to give Nikki; had seemed even less appealing).

‘Invite’ was the nice way of putting it, it had been a declaration followed up by a stream of bitching until Nikki felt his hackles rise and he’d hung up and ignored the next dozen text messages and two missed calls. He’d picked up on the third call, tired and slightly guilty after listening to his phone buzz incessantly on the coffee table while he tried to tune it out with even louder music.

And of course, it wasn’t a fun Friday night out, it was shaping up to be more of a hard binge with no regard to how he’d feel once he woke up. Which seemed odd, Tommy usually drank and forgot things as a byproduct, rarely would he drink with the intent of forgetting. Not that it was worrying Nikki, because if he worries about it he’s going to be obligated to have to acknowledge someone's feelings. And drunk or not he did not need to dig into Tommy’s. In fact, he’d do his best to avoid that when Tommy was sober too. That sort of relationship had worked well like that for as long as he cared to remember, you blew off steam fighting with strangers and then bottled up the rest, no need to bother each other with the details.

As if reading his thoughts and deciding to make him more miserable, Tommy breaks the silence, “She doesn’t- Nikki she doesn’t,” he pauses like he’s searching slowly through his own mixed-up thoughts for the word, “Like me. She doesn’t like me anymore.”

Nikki doesn’t let his focus deviate from the street light, praying for the first time since he’d gotten thrown out on his ass for the first time by his own mother, that there’s some higher power listening. And if that higher power can’t stop Tommy Lee from talking may it at least have the mercy to just kill Nikki Sixx in some freak accident of nature before he does get going.

So it’s going to be about Heather. It’s about a girlfriend and it’s going to end up being his problem. What a wonderful end to the week.

He debates ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘That really sucks man’ or maybe the old reliable ‘There’s plenty of fish in the sea’ but he can’t decide which leads to a quicker end in the conversation before Tommy keeps going, “An’ that makes me, it’s not fair. Makes me upset.”

Nikki decides nodding here would be appropriate. He’s not sure the severity of this, Heather had seemed nice enough the few times he’d met her in the past few months, but that mixed with Tommy’s dreamy notions of true love and a wedding had been enough to keep him from getting to know her. True love was something he didn’t have the time for and Tommy took up enough of that on his own.

“Do y'know why?” Tommy asks, and he does his best to turn towards Nikki but the seatbelt confuses him slightly and he stops to pull at it like he can’t remember putting it on. He hadn’t put it on, Nikki had, but that was beside the point and Tommy had been trying to hug him at the same time.

Nikki decides the exit strategy is now or never so he opens the car door and steps out. In the time it takes him to walk in front of the car and to the other side, he still can’t come up with what to stay to save this conversation for when one of them isn’t drunk off his ass. Or the best-case scenario, never. His boot scuffs against the asphalt when he stops beside the door.

Tommy is struggling with the seat belt latch when he finally gets to his door, and he waits until he gets the button clicked before opening it. He just needs to get him to his apartment, into his bed and maybe without his puke-covered shoes. And if he’s feeling nice, to get him to drink a glass of water so he doesn’t feel like a complete asshole before he gets to go home himself. It should be simple enough, he’s done this before and tonight doesn’t have to be special. He’d try to tell himself that the entire ride home but any reassurance had begun to wane the more Tommy talked.

The door flies the rest of the way open and he doges it before it can hit him and Tommy springs out with the most coordination he’s seen in him all night. It’s short-lived, because he leans in too close to Nikki, absolutly reeking of booze that it hits Nikki like a train. Jesus, is this how people see him when he gets drunk? Maybe cutting back couldn’t hurt, Tommy smells like he drank the entire bar.

“She broke up with me,” Tommy points at himself for emphasis and Nikki grabs his arm to steer him towards the doors. “Nope, dude, you gotta listen to me.” Nikki makes the executive decision that he does not, in fact, need to listen to him and continues dragging him towards the building again. He wonders what the neighbors must think of this whenever Tommy gets home in various stages of a few beers to wasted every other night of the week.

“Come on, T-Bone, let's just get you inside,” he says, and the lightbulb must go off inside Tommy’s head (because all of his genius ideas seem to come after the vodka) because his face lights up. He sits- or rather half falls once he gets to the point where he should have folded his legs, onto the ground.

“Oh, you motherfucker,” Nikki groans, because Tommy is looking up at him from the cracked sidewalk like a kid in the grocery store who’s throwing a tantrum much to everyone's annoyance and slight entertainment.

“She said,” Tommy swats Nikki’s hand away when he tries to pull him back up, determined to finish his story, “That she didn’t wanna stay with me because I love someone else.” Nikki nods because he’s tired and getting cold and maybe, just maybe, if Tommy wraps up the sap story they can both return to their respective beds for the night.

“Do y’wanna know who?" he waits, maybe expecting a response that's not coming,  M’ gonna tell you anyway.” Tommy stares at his boots noticing the vomit for the first time but only succeeding in putting off the end to his big statement. He glares at it like he could blame it for this whole situation instead of himself and Nikki starts to think that he’s going to pass out. Which would be considerably better to get him to shut up, but worse to get him into his apartment. He sways a little, and even sitting Nikki worries he’ll still manage to crack his head open.

“Man, you gotta get up,” Nikki’s sharp exhale doesn’t do much to catch Tommy’s attention back. It’s too quiet for some reason, the lack of complaining and loud laughter that Tommy usually keeps up makes everything feel empty for the first time all night.  

“Tommy,” Nikki says, doing his best to put authority behind it and hoping that Tommy takes a hint and drags his sorry ass inside before he passes out for real. Tommy, on the other hand, doesn’t give a shit about what should or shouldn’t be happening. And why should he really, Nikki thinks, it’s not like he’s the one with a redecorated interior to his car and a wasted best friend on the ground.

“It was you,” Tommy finishes.

Nikki waits for a second, hoping his earlier prayer gets cashed in and the ground can swallow him up. It doesn’t. He waits for Tommy to add in something else that makes it sound better than what he’s hearing, but for once he doesn’t say anything. His heart seems louder than normal, he can feel the beat in his chest like it’s getting tighter each time.

If he wasn’t so sure that Tommy wouldn’t remember most of this in the morning, he would keep his mouth shut. He really would, but he does have the benefit of no repercussions to his questions tonight, “Was she right?”

Tommy glares at him, “Not gonna say it.”

Of course, he won’t. The one time in their lives when he needs him to say something, and he's going to play stupid. Part of him knows how irrational it is to get angry now, but he is.

“Just get up,” he snaps, “and quit fucking around.” It’s probably too harsh, as Tommy stretches his legs out and then begins the process of navigating the cracked sidewalk while still on his ass, neglecting to actually try to stand up. He would gladly walk away at this point, cut his loses and forget any hint of awkwardness that Tommy might have just created, he did his time tonight and at least got him most of the way home. He's already in for a night of no sleeping because he'll be thinking about this.

Instead, he grabs Tommy the best he can and hauls him back up to his feet. He’s heavier than Nikki expects, and the extra height makes it even more of a struggle to maneuver him. For a brief moment, he sees the light at the end of the tunnel when Tommy manages to stand on his own, but it leaves just as quickly when Tommy’s arms end up around him,

“Nikki,” Tommy whispers into his shoulder, and the hand fisted in the back of Nikki’s t-shirt doesn’t loosen its grip, “I don’ think I was supposed to- I wasn’t gonna tell you.”

[breakyourhaloandley]

01: All I Need Is One More Broken Heart

I let out a shaky breath, smoke seeping out from between my lips. The small exhaust fan above me is buzzing, threatening to break any day now just like everything else in this apartment. Jake would kill me if he knew I was smoking inside, but I don’t see how it matters. This place is a glorified garbage heap so a little cigarette smoke isn’t going to make a difference. 

Lifting the bottle of white wine up to my lips I take a long drink before staring back at the person in the mirror. I don’t know what time it is, nor do I really care, but I’m sure it’s not the ‘proper’ time to be drinking, whatever that means. Black eyeliner is smudged under my eyes and my long black hair is in desperate need of brushing. I’ll get to it later, sometime when I’m not stuck in a fucking spiral of drunkenness, sadness and utter lack of care for my wellbeing. 

The front door clicks and I hear someone fumbling with keys, I guess Jake is back. I flick the rest of my cigarette into the toilet before flushing away the evidence. I stumble, almost losing my balance as I make my way up to the kitchen where he’s fixing himself a plate of questionable Chinese leftovers. 

His eyes dart up to me, and he doesn’t even have to say anything. I see it in his disappointed scowl. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon Andy,” he states, motioning towards the bottle in my hand. 

“And this is white wine, not liquor.” I retort, needing anything but a lecture from one of my bandmates. None of them have any room to talk. 

“You know we have band practice tonight, right? Tour starts in a week.”  “Don’t remind me” I groan, well aware of the ticking time bomb set to blow up in my face in a matter of days. 

I should be excited, it’s our first major tour. We’re headling the AP Tour this year along with my friend Matt’s band, D.R.U.G.S. I should be, but I’m anything but excited. A few months ago it would have been a totally foreign concept to me, the thought of not wanting to be on tour. Yet things change, people change and in what feels like the blink of an eye the things that used to fill you with joy become your worst fears. 

It’s not that I don’t love music anymore, it’s not that I don’t want to be in this band or that I don’t want to sing anymore. It’s that I don’t want to deal with the things that come with it. The screaming fans who think I’m some perfect fucking idol they should look up to, someone who can save them from themselves when little do they know I can’t even save myself. It’s the interviews, the time schedule, the sleepless nights in a bunk too small for my legs, it’s the loneliness despite being surrounded by people night and day, it’s the expectations. 

I wonder if the fans will notice, notice the new cracks on my perfect exterior where the flawed human being is threatening to breakthrough. I don’t know what happened, but something changed on the last tour. It was as if this darkness had consumed me. The funny thing is that I had actually made a vow to myself at the start of our first tour that I wouldn’t drink. I’d seen alcohol destroy too many of my childhood idols to ever want such evil in my life. 

Like most promises, this one wasn’t kept. It was our second tour and during the kick-off party, I had a fatal lapse in judgment. Someone handed me a drink, the stench of alcohol was potent but I drank it anyway. I can only compare the feeling to someone who is about to drown, and right before they open their mouth and let the water fill their lungs, they manage to resurface gasping for air. All the anxiety, the fear, the demons that have haunted me since childhood were suddenly quiet. I felt free, happy, confident and social. 

I no longer cared what people thought about me, like that life-saving breath of fresh air, I felt alive. 

I guess you could say I went overboard, I started drinking every night and that’s when the darkness started creeping back in. The shadow slowly wrapping its cold fingers around my throat and after the tour ended it spiraled out of control. Bad decisions, at least those that I can remember, haunt me yet I just keep making them. 

So now I have a week before the tour starts, a week to get my shit together.  “And are you fucking listening to me?” Jake snaps, pulling me out of my wine-induced haze. 

“Uh yeah-”  “I said you can’t pull the shit you’ve been pulling on tour. No more ending up on the stage floor crying and making a fool of us. John said that-”  “Thank you, Jake, I’ve seen the videos I don’t need a lecture.” I cut him off. 

---

The walls burst down the second I see him, like floodgates opening-up and memories that I thought were buried suddenly resurface like it was yesterday instead of a month ago. He’s standing there, silky black hair concealing his face. He’s too busy tuning his base to even notice that I’ve walked in. His tattooed fingers work the strings of the instrument and I’ve never been jealous of an inanimate object before now. 

My heart is racing in my chest and I swear to god he has to hear it. I feel a knot in my stomach and I’m not sure if it’s that or the hangover making me feel like I’m going to throw up. Ashley looks up, his caramel eyes fixating on my lanky frame. Eyes dart up and down and wait, was that a grimace? He sets his base down and his boots click as he walks towards me. 

“You okay Six?” he asked, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow. 

“I’m fine Ash.”  “You’ve lost weight,” he comments, the tone of his voice tells me he doesn’t mean it as a compliment. 

I’ve been steadily dropping weight since our first tour, I don’t know where it got out of control but like most things in my life, it did. God, I want to be fucking wasted right now, anything but dealing with this. 

This dance we’re doing around each other is new, and I don’t know the steps to it. All I know him as is my best friend, the person who’s been there for me since the start, warmth in cold, oxygen to a drowning man. 

I can still feel his lips on mine, the night it all went to hell. It was the last week of the tour and after killing almost an entire bottle of whiskey we made a fatal error. The circumstances that led us to that error are blurry, blacked-out sentences in the story of my life. What I do remember has become my own personal hell that plays on a loop in my brain. 

The heavy motel door slams shut, the outside world ceases to exist as time stands still in some little town in Texas. Those tattooed fingers are dancing along the outline of my hip bones, my back pressed up against the cigarette stained wall. I’ve wanted this moment since we met, to feel his strong arms wrapped around me, to be the center of his attention and desires. And here we are, our lips inches apart, a hurricane about to make landfall. 

His hands glid up my bare skin, following the contours of my torso. A shiver goes down my spine and I feel my heart about to explode. “Kiss me” I whisper my breath catching in my throat. 

Our lips collide and I melt, surrendering myself completely over to him. I part my lips as he slips his tongue into my mouth, his nails digging into my pale flesh. There’s a roughness to it that drives me mad and I can taste the whiskey on his lips. 

He pulls me over towards the bed, falling on top of me as the bed creaks under our combined weight. His fingers lace in my hair before violently pulling it back. I let out a moan all the nerves in my body firing. He has complete control over me, I’m a puppet on strings. 

I tug at his belt, leaning up and whispering in his ear “I want to feel you inside me” I don’t care what the consequences are all that matters is this moment. 

He pushes me back, quickly standing up. My heart stops in my chest as he shakes his head, a disgusted look across his face. “Fuck” he breathes pushing his hair back. 

“W-What?”  “God, what are we doing? No... Andy, I’m not gay. I- fuck I’m drunk. Look we can’t do this, I’m not attracted to you and I’m sure as hell not gonna fuck you.” 

My heart shatters into a million pieces, this has to be a dream... no a nightmare and I will myself to wake up. Only I don’t wake up, “Ashley...” 

“Look I get it, you’re uh- you’re gay. I kind of always suspected that I guess. But I’m not and this isn’t going to happen. We’re bandmates, I’m your friend and we’re both just drunk.” I stopped listening to the words coming out of his mouth but the next thing I knew he was out the door, something about sleeping on the bus. 

We ended up doing the whole awkward day after ‘talk’. Let’s just forget about it, neither of us meant for it to go that far, we can just carry on as if it never happened. Bullshit. 

And now we’re here. It’s been a month since I’ve seen him, the longest we’ve ever gone since he joined the band two years ago. He stares at me, I guess expecting me to say something from this mutually agreed-upon script we’re supposed to be acting out now. Words fail me though, all I feel is the lump in my throat and it feels like it is suffocating me. 

“You’re taking care of yourself, right? You said you were going to get better about that. Cutting down on cigarettes and drinking, eating better.” I can’t tell if the concern in his voice is real or just for show. Did I even say that? Maybe I did, but I didn’t mean it. 

“I’m not going to drink this tour.”  “One out of three is better than nothing I guess.” he jokes, though I don’t think he believes me. 

“I uh- I’ll be back in a sec.” I manage to get out before brushing past him and away from the others. 

I barely make it into the bathroom of the studio before breaking down. Air is hard to find as I gasp for breath, the tightness in my chest getting so bad that I swear I’m going to pass out. I brace myself against the sink, my knuckles turning white from the death grip I have on it. Tears well up in my eyes before falling, mixing with the black shadow around my eyes into long black streaks down my face. 

There is no way I’m going to be able to do this tour sober, I don’t know why I’m fooling myself. I want nothing more than to be half a bottle deep in whiskey right now, all these fucking emotions shut off. Sliding down against the wall onto the tiled floor my head spins from the hangover and lack of oxygen which only increases the nauseous feeling in my stomach. I try to convince myself this is just another panic attack but the feeling of death is so real. I lean over the toilet, pushing two fingers back into my throat until I feel my gag reflex kick in. I throw up the little that’s in my stomach before leaning back against the wall. 

My hands shake and I’m unsteady on my feet as I push myself off the ground. I rinse my mouth out with water and try my best to wipe away the smeared makeup before walking back out to where the rest of my band is. They’re already practicing, the sounds of drums and electric guitars drowning out the sounds of my little breakdown. I try my best to force a smile and join in, but I feel disconnected from them, from the music, from life. 

We practice for hours, and I feel every second of it. While the rest of the guys talk about ideas for the tour I slip out the back. I light up the second I step outside, the nicotine calming my nerves instantly. I’ve smoked half the pack before I even realize it, but the health of my lungs doesn’t make my list of concerns. 

I listen to the sounds of the buzzing street on the other side of the building, closing my eyes as I try to find a moment of tranquility. 

“Andy we need to talk.” his cool voice says from behind me. Ashley walks over to face me, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and lighter from me. I watch as he places one between his pale pink lips, the flame flickering in between the cracks of his cupped hand. 

A dirty little secret about Ashley, he’s known to smoke a cigarette or two whenever he’s stressed. He loves to preach about hating them, how disgusting and dirty they are but compared to the things he used to use it’s nothing. The thing about being so close to someone is you know almost all of their secrets, you’ve met all of their skeletons and Ashley has more than his fair share of them. So I let his theft slide. 

He blows the smoke out in a white cloud before sighing. “I told John that on hotel nights I’ll room with one of the other guys. I think it’s best that way.” 

I scoff, laughing at his feeble attempt to act like we’re not completely fucked. “Is it?” 

“I figured it would be easier for you.”  “Wow you’re so considerate” I reply, my voice laced with sarcasm. 

“Andy you said that we would just agree to forget about everything. Just be normal bandmates. I know you’re hurt but it’s just the way things are. Maybe it’s my fault, I let you believe there was something when there wasn’t.” 

Ashley was my lifeline when I moved here. A month of living in my car before meeting him and the others had taken its toll on me. I was on the verge of giving up and crawling back to Ohio with my tail between my legs. Then I met him and he showed me a warmth that kept me going. He was there the nights I broke down in tears, missing home and second-guessing myself. He was there when I needed advice, guidance, someone who I could trust. Even when I started drinking he was there, making sure I didn’t die of alcohol poisoning, pulling me together the next morning... and now it’s over. 

“I’m sorry for fucking things up. I just... miss what we had, friendship, whatever you want to call it. I’m drowning Ash.”  “I’m still your friend Andy. Don’t be dramatic, you’re twenty now you don’t need someone babying you.” 

My heart aches, I tried to fight it for so long. I tried to tell myself that it was hopeless to have these emotions for someone who would never want me the way I wanted him. I tried to convince myself that the truth wasn’t the truth, that I wasn’t madly in love with the man in front of me. I am in love with him though, and for a few moments on that fateful night, I thought he loved me back. 

“When I asked you to kiss me, why did you?” I ask bluntly. 

He is clearly thrown by the question, and the calm facade he is so perfect at maintaining drops for a second. Just long enough that I can see he is human, not some robot immune to emotions. “I don’t know.. maybe there was a part of me that wanted to try it, maybe it was because you asked. Maybe it was the whiskey.” 

I close the gap between the two of us, the smoke from our cigarettes mixing in the air. He doesn’t move back, just stares at me, his face once again expressionless. “And you felt nothing?” I whisper. 

“Nothing Andy.” We stand there, motionless in the cool Hollywood air. Kiss me, punch me, insult me, push me up against the brick and fuck me, do something. “Then I guess I’ll just forget about it,” I reply. 

He places the cigarettes and lighter into the pocket of my leather jacket. “Goodnight.” he simply says before walking away. 

[chyrstis]

You won’t be the one (2/2)

I love how an excuse to write about a drunken radio call has lead to this weird weaving back and forth that I really did think was mostly going to be silly banter. At least at first?

Pairing: F!Dep x John Seed (the strange pseudo-flirting really can’t be denied here) Rating: T Word Count: 3.2K

Link to AO3!

___

A conversation in two parts. (Part 1)

______________

She was drunk. Not just a little, but heading full on into embracing whatever chaos the night might lead into, dare or no dare provided.

Sharky was her primary instigator, working harder than usual to keep her from thinking back to the mess they’d made of the convoys in the afternoon. It didn’t make sense. They should’ve found a way to make a serious dent by now, but for every one lost, another two took its place, like some sort of strange vehicular hydra.

It was an exhausting dance. One Hana knew was going to be painful from the start, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept, or forget. Especially when John knew which resources to lean on as a counter.

So, with that frustration fresh in her mind, she let one drink turn into two. Then into four. With Sharky by her side, she tacked on one more after that, and he reminded her that breaks like this really did lead to better ass kicking tomorrow.

“Just flush all of that negative shit out, double-down on you being you, and it’ll be smooth sailing. Trust me,” he said. “We’ll be swimming in so much Peggie ass tomorrow.“

She nearly choked on her drink. “Kicking. You mean we’ll be kicking so much ass tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah! What’d you think I said?” he asked, nearly spilling his shot. The fact that it was on fire – courtesy of him, and not Mary May - should’ve been a concern, but she was well within swatting distance if she needed to intervene. He put it out and knocked it back before she could say anything else. “We’ll be kicking it up, and fucking them up. Cause that’s how we do things.”

At least, that’s how they were planning on doing things. Tomorrow.

Within the hour, Hana was dragging him upstairs, barely able to stand on his own two feet. Even after somehow losing a bet and promising to get him his weight in accelerants, she wasn’t about to let him stumble up there alone, and helped deposit him into the room Mary May was letting her crash in.

Sharky faceplanted onto the bed, and after draping the blanket over him, she made him promise he wouldn’t suffocate on his own hoodie – while also making sure he actually wouldn’t. She would’ve felt awful if he did after teasing him about it. Lucky for her he was listening, but the minute said hoodie hit her in the face, she wisely decided it was time to cut out and leave.

With that she was left alone and free to roam. Her head buzzed, the sensation more pleasant than not, but standing there idle with a half-finished beer wasn’t going to help her burn any of that energy off.

So, she wandered outside, taking a moment to stand on the Spread Eagle’s porch.

In moments like this it was easy to see how someone could’ve fallen in love with this place. How she could’ve fallen in love with it before things went straight to hell and back.

The breeze ruffled her hair as Hana followed the road to the outskirts of town before cutting across the grass, looking to head to the hills. Glancing skyward, she took in the stars above, marking old constellations that she used to love as a kid.

Orion. Always Orion, with his belt of stars, one, two, and three. Cassiopeia, with the zig-zag of the W. If she squinted, there was at least one of the dippers to find too.

Out here, the lights above weren’t drowned out by the city below. She pointed up, running her finger from one bright point to another, her head bobbing as she tried to trace out the image. Rough as it was, there was still a picture to be made even if she had to blink fast to keep it in focus.

But her finger came to a stop, resting right on the edge of the horizon. Right where the white, glaring eye sore stood out up in the mountains, drawing her attention completely.

She chucked her empty beer bottle in the general direction of the YES sign, and didn’t care that it wouldn’t come anywhere close to reaching it. It shattered somewhere nearby, her annoyance rising at having fallen short, and she stood there, staring out over the fields as she forced herself to relax. To curl back into the peace out here. To breathe in and out.

In and out.

She took in her fifth breath, hearing it whistle between her teeth, before reaching down for her radio. Silence wasn’t going to cut it any longer, and she’d take anything else at this point.

Not bothering to check to see just which station she’d picked was a mistake. Mostly harmless, but still a sizable one given her current mood. With the Peggie station came a chance of hearing each of the Seed’s songs. She’d heard most off and on, but only for short bursts due to the cultists playing them.

John’s followers, however, seemed to take this a step further. Seemed to play his theme with a frequency that grated on her more and more every time she heard it, and hearing it now out of the blue? Here, well in view of his lasting mark on the valley?

That was the cherry on top of her irritation-flavored sundae.

Oh, John! The words ran right on repeat through her mind, and there it was. A melody that was going to stick around right up until the point that she passed out, mid-curse into her pillow.

“Petty fucking amusement, my ass,” Hana muttered, messing with the radio. “I’ll show you who’s a joke.”

If that was how her night was going to go, fine. Maybe he did have a point, and maybe, just maybe, he could be hers.

---

“Brother John?”

He didn’t raise his eyes from the papers set in front of him on the table, but when the Chosen didn’t respond further, he waved his hand for them to continue. At this hour interruptions were few and far between, but not impossible. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“Our channel’s been picking up on a strange message. One that’s been repeating, but doesn’t appear to be an SOS. It hasn’t stopped. Not once.”

John turned towards her, and set his pen aside. “If it’s not an emergency, or a threat, then what is the problem?”

The Chosen’s posture straightened as more of his attention was turned on her, but she held up her radio and stood her ground. “It’s been the same thing over the last five minutes. Cutting in and out, just…noise at first, but it sounds like singing.”

“Singing?” John raised an eyebrow.

She turned it on, and the voice came through in bursts, some of it too difficult to understand at first. Once the words started coming through, however, he listened, taking in the melody as it became quite clear which song it belonged to.

He set his chin in his hand, and let his eyes slip shut. That was his name being said, and this song was one he did admit a degree of, albeit prideful, fondness for. Even with the words slurred and the voice exaggerating each note’s rise and fall.

But this voice, this one, he was used to hearing nothing but provocations from. In a way, this also fit the bill. After the crude defacement of his message, along with the taking back of the Widowmaker, the county’s only free deputy kept on going as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

And while he had seethed over her actions - and her dismissal of him days back – other areas had demanded his attention first.

Her time to atone would come. She would take those steps, willingly, if he had his way, and from there progress could truly be made. If he needed to guide her further he would, but it was so much more satisfying to see what steps she might take unprompted. Especially when those steps lead to instances like this.

This wasn’t an immediate problem. It wasn’t another blow to their resources or a strike to their convoys. It was a distraction at best, which didn’t require his intervention at all, but the temptation remained. Like before, she was reaching out to him. Calling for him, even if only to provoke him.

It was still an effort, and it lingered in the back of his mind when he motioned for them to hand over their radio.

“Allow me. Maybe there’s something to this after all.”

---

"My dear Deputy-“

The radio flew out of her hands, sailing through the air towards the ground, as she fumbled it completely. It landed on a patch of grass, the tumble making only static come through for a few seconds. Soon enough, however, John’s voice was back.

“How unexpected. I wasn’t aware that song left such an impression on you. To hear it come straight from your lips, to hear it repeated so fervently. I’m amazed.”

Hana stared at the radio, both hands still clasped over her mouth, and felt the blood rush straight to her face.

“And over such a public medium as well. What would the others say if they heard you?”

If they had the right idea, they would’ve turned off their radios long ago. Hopefully before John actually decided to tune in, but too late now. She’d deal with that in the morning, along with the massive hangover she’d be courting.

She grabbed for the radio, struggling not to trip over her own two feet trying to pick it up fast, and almost forgot to hit the button before replying. “This isn’t about them. It’s about…shit.”

“You? I’d suggest myself, but after hearing what I have for the last few minutes or so, that might be presumptuous of me.”

He was back to using that strange teasing tone of his again, and none of it sat well with her. Not after what he’d shown her a few days back, but if he was willing to do this, she’d gladly dish it back.

“You liked that? Hearing your name over, and over, and over?“

“Very few would object to such a thing. Especially when said so…enthusiastically.”

Her face flushed again – or had it stayed that way? – and she kicked herself for being just that damn petty. The words had been messy from the start, and she’d looped back to that simply because her poor brain had hit a snag and couldn’t get past repeating variations of it.

“Jesus, John. Hearing this shit would grate on a normal person.”

Hearing it from her? Drunk and garbled? It should’ve been irritating. That was exactly what she wanted to begin with. Instead, he was a mix of amused and delighted? Shouldn’t he have already ambushed her and carried her off to God-knows-where days back just for the damn sign?

What the hell did she actually drink? Mary May said it’d been strong before she shot it, but -

“Why are we speaking, Deputy? I have a feeling there’s something on your mind. Intoxicated or not.”

You. She nearly bit her tongue. Bugging the shit out of you. “I thought my intent was pretty damn clear.”

“No, I think there’s more to this. A reason for you to seek me out. Are there regrets? Looking for another chance to consider-“

“No.”

“Deputy.” He almost sounded disappointed. “So quick to say no.”

“After listening to you tell me how, if given the chance, you were going to ‘open me up’ and, or, peel me like a fucking apple, did you really expect anything different?”

He paused. “Ah. That.”

“Yes, that.”

John chuckled, but didn’t offer up an explanation or an excuse. Just his amusement at what she was sure was her expense. That put a shot of anger through her.

“Real cute asshole, but you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“I was merely suggesting you could share a part of yourself with me.”

Not just one, Hana reminded herself. Multiple parts. Multiple layers.

“Suggesting, huh? Suggestions are made about movies, and songs to listen to. Both usually to share and enjoy with those closest to you. And okay, people do that too. Sharing, and baring just enough of themselves to see if they’ve got a good thing going, but applying that to us, John, just doesn’t work. Because one, we’re just not that cozy, and two, we’re sure as hell not that close.”

“Hence, the suggestion.”

“I might have a few for you, if we’re going to stick to this topic, but none of them are going to be that nice.”

“And I’m sure you would love to go over them in extensive detail with me, my dear. Some of which I might even entertain, given just how you might choose to pitch it to me.”

She wasn’t even sure what topic they were on anymore at this point. “Oh, I think you’d like my delivery. Maybe even my pitch.” Yeah, she’d lost it, and the breathy tone was laying it on way too thick.

“Deputy!” The smile her mental image conjured up for that was a wicked one. “You’re far from shy, aren’t you? Just be sure to remain clear on what exactly you’re hoping to accomplish. Otherwise, I may end up drawing my own conclusions on the matter. But don’t worry,” he said, almost imitating her. “No matter what you decide, you won’t have to be nice with me.”

Jesus. This was getting weird. Way too weird for her to keep on going with it. “Now I know you’re just trying to keep me talking. Dangling shit like that in front of me hoping I’ll just, I don’t know. Ramble on about something interesting, or just make a bigger ass of myself in the process. Either or.”

“We’re simply talking. Trading pleasantries, and possibly even a step beyond that. Surely that can’t be a problem.”

“Nothing is ever simple when it comes to you. At least, that I’m learning.”

“You were the one that called me. Let me remind you of that, yet again,” he replied, an edge creeping into his tone. “But this is the longest we’ve talked so far. I’d like to call that…progress.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to make progress here.”

“Given my role, I’d have to disagree. Progress is precious. All too delicate and easily lost, much like trust. And I understand yours is not given easily, Deputy.”

She took in a slow breath and let it out through her nose. “What do you want, John?”

“Let me be honest with you. Not that I haven’t been from the start, but if you need to hear it, need me to tell you this directly, then I will.”

“To build trust?”

“To build progress. But that could lead to trust, if given the opportunity.”

This was swinging back in the other direction. Back to a topic that she knew they shouldn’t be heading towards, and the repeated question came out harsh. “What do you want, John?”

“Let me make my offer again. To give you a proper chance to-“

“Confess?” That made her want to pitch her radio right out over the hills. “You never quit with this shit, do you?”

“Have I become that predictable?” he asked drily. “But yes, I doubt I will, because it's not in my right to deny you that. That chance. That opportunity. It still remains, even now.”

“You want to hear a confession? Hmm? You really want to? Like the actual reason why we’re talking right now? Why I made an ass of myself earlier singing at you?”

Hana held the radio right up to her mouth as she hissed out the next few words.

“I hate this song. I hate it every time it comes on, and I hate the fact that this entire county only has two stations to choose from. That if I get into any vehicle, or if I walk to any area within reach, there’s a decent shot it’s playing, and I have to spend the next five minutes listening to it crooning, ‘Oh, John,’ over and over until I can flip the damn switch.”

“It should be a source of inspiration, to bolster, and-”

She pressed the button on the radio to cut him off. “I blame the subject. He’s kind of a self-absorbed prick.”

He grew silent after that, and she knew she was getting close to hitting a nerve.

“John the brave. Building us a family, and working hard to keep us safe. Isn’t that how it goes?”

“I would. All of you, if you’d let me.”

“It’s not that simple of a thing, John. To wave your hand and brush away everything. To wipe the slate clean.”

“It’s not about forgetting or dismissing memories, thoughts, or actions. It’s about accepting them for what they are, and finding a way past that. To wash them away, opening yourself up to the possibility of becoming something greater. We all have things that we regret, don’t we?”

Staring down at the radio, she wet her lips and wished like hell she had another beer nearby. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with him of all people.

“I know you’ve felt that. Not just here, in this place. But before. Long before coming here. The difference is that this time, you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

Coming from the same man that had promised to spill her guts out in front of him earlier, to dig for all that she’d keep from him, stung.

“Stop, John.”

“I would listen. Patiently, until you’ve given me all that you could offer. Every word, every action, as we name these things we bury, these sins, and from there they can be shed. So you can begin anew. Unburdened and unashamed.”

“I don’t want to do this with you,” Hana said, the buzz giving way to a weight in her body. “I don’t.”

“But you could. Just say yes.”

Yes.

A shiver ran through her, sinking deep into her as it spread.

“That night by the lake. The Cleansing, or whatever you called it, you remember that? Holding me down as I kicked and screamed my lungs out?” He went silent, and her head swam as she tried to steady herself. “You were going to drown me that night, weren’t you? Right up until Joseph spoke up. Saving me from you.”

She held the radio in her hand, waiting for a denial, acknowledgment, anything.

She’d suspected it. But this, after hearing him say those things to her, spoken low, intimately, was the icing on the goddamn cake.

“If anyone’s going to save me, it’s not going to be you,” she replied, hating how the words wavered. “Good night, John.”

She hit the switch and the radio slipped out of her hand, landing right on the grass by her feet. She'd know where to grab it come morning, she thought, leaving it behind.

Sure enough, she would.

[robinrunsfiction]

But It’s Better If You Do

Pairing: Brendon Urie x Female Reader Rating: Teen Requested By: @thatsonezesty13​ Word Count: ~1,900 Author’s Note: So I was sent a link to this very sexy version of But It’s Better If You Do by @thatsonezesty13 with the request for Brendon to be singing it in the reader’s ear with a little sauciness and some angst, and I hope I hit just enough of each for ya! Also please please listen to the song while reading where I dropped in the lyrics. It just enhances the whole thing. Enjoy!

You arrived at the club that had been reserved for the birthday celebration of the one and only Pete Wentz. You had been friends with him for years, and his birthday was always a big deal, this year being no exception. This year was a 1920’s masquerade theme party and you were more than happy to distract yourself from real life for a while.

When you were let into the club, it was decked out in fabulous décor that would make Gatsby himself jealous. You scanned the room and saw who you figured were the usual suspects behind masks, but headed to the bar for a refreshment first

While waiting for the bartender, you felt eyes on you and glanced down the bar. There he was, the only person Pete had said wasn’t gonna be able to make the party, which is what guaranteed you would be there.

Brendon.

Brendon and you had quite a bit of a history to say the least. You had hooked up for a while, but then you realized he had feelings for you, and you weren’t sure, so he dated someone else. Then you were jealous and dated someone else, and he was jealous too. And suddenly he had dumped his girlfriend and you were in his bed again.

But then you realized that your relationship wasn’t really a relationship and you didn’t know how to talk to Brendon about the real stuff like how you were starting to fall hard for him, and so you distanced yourself and he got mad, but he had other people he was talking to, so you didn’t think it mattered, even though you were still jealous of everyone else he was seeing. The last time you saw each other it was a drunken shouting match that ended with you in tears in the bathroom venting to Megan about how stupid Brendon was and that you were done with him forever.

But now he’s here tonight.

You searched the room for Megan, Andy, Patrick, Spencer, anyone reasonable that would help you keep your head on straight because in that moment when you saw him, your heart was in your throat and a blush crept over you and you wanted nothing more than to climb in his lap and make out with him, and then to slap him in his gorgeous face. Or maybe the other way around. Either way, those two things would happen if he came near you, you were certain.

The bartender finally returned with your drink and you made your way to an empty table not far from the dancefloor. You started listening to the music and realized that the 1920’s sounding music was actually a remix of a current song you had heard on your way over. You were impressed by Pete’s level of detail to the theme of the party.

Other partygoers were dressed to the nines and absolutely lighting up the dance floor. You enjoyed the people watching, even though you had no idea who most of the people were. The masks didn’t help alleviate any of your confusion. You finally pulled your mask on from where it was resting around your neck and felt better about being hidden from Brendon.

Or so you thought.

Someone sat down at the chair right next to you and you turned to see who it was. When you turned, of course you found Brendon was sitting there with a smirk that sent a jolt straight through you.

“I was hoping were gonna be here tonight,” he said smoothly.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight,” you replied curtly.

“Listen (YN), I’m sorry for how things ended the last time we saw each other-” he said leaning in so he wasn’t shouting.

“I can barely even remember it anymore,” you lied, cutting his apology short.

He shrugged as he sat back and took a sip of his drink. You sat awkwardly in silence. You were mad at how good he looked. You were mad that he actually apologized. You were mad that part of you wanted to let him really make it up to you, and part of you was mad that you never wanted him to touch you again.

Suddenly a familiar tune started. You knitted your eyebrows together and glanced back at Brendon, who raised his eyebrows and smirked again. In a huff, you got up and made you way to the edge of the dancefloor just to create some space between you and that smirk.

Now I'm of consenting age To be forgetting you in a cabaret somewhere Downtown where a burlesque queen May even ask my name As she sheds her skin on stage I'm seated and sweating to a dance song On the club's P.A The strip joint veteran sits two away Smirking between dignified sips of his dignified Peach and lime daiquiri

This wasn’t just a remix, Brendon had redone the song with new vocals. Seductive vocals. Sexy new vocals that reminded you of so many times you had him alone. And it was making you feel things all over again. And Pete knew that this would happen, and he lied when he said Brendon wouldn’t be here. If you had bothered to get him a present you would be taking it back.

Then someone was behind you, a hand on your waist. You knew who it was without him saying a word. But then you felt his lips by your ear.

And isn't this exactly where you'd like me I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know Praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety

You turn to face him, pulling down your mask in the process. You wanted to tell him to leave you alone, that you weren’t ever going to be anything.

“And isn't this exactly where you'd like me, I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know,” he said low and seductive, but the look in his eyes gave him away. There was a touch of sadness, of longing, of genuine caring at how you would react.

Well I'm afraid that I Well, I may have faked it and I wouldn't be caught dead dead dead dead in this place

You couldn’t keep pretending like you didn’t care. If you were wearing even a fraction of your emotions on your face, the way he was, then he already knew.

Brendon's grip on your waist grew tighter and he gently brushed your cheek with his fingertips. “And isn't this exactly where you'd like me, I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know,” he repeated.

You nodded, at a loss for words and reasonable thought. If any of your trusty, level headed friends were there and witnessing this moment, they were letting it happen and you were glad for it.

And then your lips were crashing against his. Brendon's hands running up and down your sides, the beadwork on your dress tickling his palms. You pressed your whole body against his and he pulled you closer somehow.

You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands slide from your sides to your ass and you’re groaning into your kiss. This feels right, this is where you belong.

Brendon breaks the kiss and glances around. No one is paying any attention to you and him so he grabs your hand and pulls you toward the back of the club.

There's a small changing room for performers, but since it’s just a DJ tonight, there's no one using the room. No one until you follow behind Brendon into the dark small space, illuminated only by the faint red glow of the exit sign above the door.

Your lips are reconnecting and you're sliding Brendon's jacket off his shoulders. Brendon's hands are all over you; in your hair, on your waist, on your ass, on your chest. Your back is against a wall and you have one leg wrapping around Brendon as he presses kisses against your neck. You let your head roll to the side, not caring what kinds of marks he’s leaving.

“Bren,” you whisper hoarsely.

“Hmm,” he murmurs back.

“We should, ya know, before someone else comes back here,” you moan.

Brendon stops and looks at you in the dim light. “Are you sure?”

“Yea.”

“I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

“You wanna talk about this now? Really?” You snapped, getting exasperated.

“No.”

“Thought so.”

A while later you were slinking out of the dressing room door, pulling down the hem of your flapper dress. You hurried over to the women's restroom and examined yourself in the mirror. Yep, you look thoroughly and freshly fucked.

You grabbed a Kleenex and wiped away your smeared lipstick. You were admiring the marks Brendon left across your neck when the door burst open and Megan came in.

“Oh, that explains it.”

“What?”

“Why Brendon is waiting just outside the door looking like he's had the most fun of anyone at this party,” she said with a knowing smirk.

You rolled your eyes and started to pull the pins out of your hair, letting the style you worked so hard at fall down to cover your neck.

“I thought you were done with him, (YN).”

“I did too. But he's like some kind of drug. I can’t stay mad, he's just too…”

“Sexy?”

“Exactly. I mean I’m sure we'll crash and burn again, but at least I’m having fun.”

“What if, and hear me out, you both stopped playing games and start telling each other how you really, deep down, feel?” Megan asked, slightly exasperated.

You turned back to the mirror. Something this time felt different. Maybe she was right and you had been playing games long enough. Maybe it was time to act like an adult and be honest. You nodded, more at yourself than to Megan and exited the bathroom.

Brendon was still waiting outside the door like Megan said he was. He pushed himself off the wall when he saw you.

“Hey, can we talk now?”

“Yea,” you agreed.

“I'm sorry for the things I said last time. I was drunk and I know it doesn’t excuse it, but I didn’t mean the nasty things I said.”

“I know, and I wasn’t any better. I let myself get worked up and jealous and made things worse in my head. I really care about you Brendon.”

“I haven't been able to think about anyone but you for the longest time. I want something real (YN).”

You nodded. “Me too. There's a reason I keep coming back to you.”

“And it isn't just all this,” he said gesturing up and down his body with a goofy grin. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh. “Let’s give this a real shot, (YN).”

“No seeing anyone on the side, no jealousy, no games?”

“None of it.”

You nodded in agreement and Brendon turned and you found yourself between him and the wall again, his lips on yours, but much more tenderly than before.

“And isn't this exactly where you'd like me, I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know,” you murmured when he pulled back.

“Exactly where I want you.”

Masterlist

[randombtsprincessa]

Aberrations || 7

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Chapter:   01  02  03  04  05  06

Warning: Smut!

“Stigma,” I read out loud as Taehyung put a carton of eggs in the shopping trolley. I looked up at him curiously. He caught my eye and smiled softly. “It’s not nice?” he asked. I handed him the laminated paper carefully. “It’s beautiful, Tae. I am really touched.” I said.

“Thanks, what about you by the way? Are you going to show me the song?” he asked.

“I will, as soon as we get back, ok?” I promised and he gave me his trademark boxy grin, pulling his glasses off and putting them in his pocket before rubbing his eyes.

“Man, all this fluorescence is going to make me go blind.” He muttered as we moved to the next aisle.

“What kind of toothpaste were you using again?” I asked.

Tae, like us, didn’t live on the campus, instead choosing to live in a small apartment. The rent was affordable to him so he didn’t need a roommate which was both good and bad for him. It meant, we could come over whenever we wanted to but it also meant that Tae had to do all the domesticities himself and he was beyond helpless when it came to that.

Helping him run his household was one of the things that came written in our friendship. I had noticed how his house litter mostly comprised of take away boxes and cans of drinks.

I smiled, remembering the first day I’d gone over to work on our first project together. It had been a month and he’d stopped stuttering in every sentence that he spoke to me, which I had taken as a good sign so I had…sort of invited myself over.

“Don’t judge, please,” he said, swiping off clothes off the floor, “I wasn’t planning to bring someone over…ever,” he said, nervously.

“Don’t worry about it, Taehyung.” I said, sitting gingerly on the sofa. “Do you always eat outside food?” I asked.

“Yeah, I can’t cook.” He said.

I shrugged, “You can come over to dinner with us, you know. You’re always welcome.” I’d said.

He shrugged too.

“Listen, how about we go out and get you some real food, ok?” I’d asked, and gone food shopping to the grocery store which led to it becoming something of a ritual. Now, he either ate with us or at least had something that wouldn’t give him constant indigestion.

Taehyung plucked the toothpaste he wanted and set it in the basket before looking at me. “Isn’t that Hoseok?” he asked. I turned around to see that, indeed, Hobi was walking towards us in a red jacket and a black cap on. “Hey, guys,” he said, reaching us.

“Hey,” we returned.

“It’s been a while, I haven’t seen you people at Dark Wild in a while.” He said.

“Well, we’ve been busy. The studio project,” Taehyung muttered. Hoseok’s eyes went to me for a split second and he grinned at Taehyung. “That’s why I took Dance. Moving my body more than using my brains any day,” he laughed.

“Says you, aren’t you the main choreographer?” I asked smiling and he made a fuss. “Don’t’ remind me. Sometimes the load is so much; it makes me wonder if it’s worth it. Don’t let Yoongi hear that though, he’ll spout out some bullshit about how passion should always be followed and I’ll have to duct tape him.” He said.

“I doubt Yoongi’s someone you can duct tape to a chair.” I giggled at the thought.

“Don’t be so doubtful, we have tied him down once. Jimin, me and his brother…of course he was drunk.” He said.

I burst out laughing and Taehyung looked at me strangely for a second as Hobi nodded finally. “Ok, I just came to grab some milk. Better get back, see you guys later or at Sehun’s party.” He said.

I waved back and turned to see Tae still staring at me. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he muttered, grabbing the handles of the trolley and moving on.

“Where is she?” Sehun asked as he pulled off his jacket, looking around the apartment. “Shopping with Tae, what’s wrong?” Ara asked. “Nothing’s wrong, why does everyone keep asking me what’s wrong? Why does something have to be wrong for me to come see my girlfriend?” Sehun asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

There was a pause in which Ara raised her eyebrows and Doona stuck her head out of her room.

“Well, with dulcet tones like that, do you really wonder?” she asked, coming to stand next to Ara, both facing off with their best friend’s boyfriend.

He looked at both of them before narrowing his eyes. “She’s said something, hasn’t she?” he asked.

Ara and Doona both exchanged glances, a silent conversation that maybe Y/N had been right about Sehun acting strange. The old Sehun would never refer to the girl he claimed to love with malicious scorn. If it was this bad, maybe Y/N had been right in being off about him.

“Sehun, did you make her leave your date early and alone a few days ago?” Ara asked slowly.

“She left. I didn’t make her leave. I was trying to make it up to her!” he said.

“That’s not how she says it and no offense, Sehun, but Y/N may keep things from us but she never lies to us.” Doona said, firmly.

“She forgave me, guys, you really have no reason to be digging on me like this.” He said, folding his arms and looking at then coldly.

Doona met his cold gaze with her own. “I don’t know what’s going on with you guys but I don’t want my best friend to get hurt, Sehun.” She said. Sehun blanched.

“I’m not hurting her, Doona. I just need my space too.” He said.

“Be careful with how much space you take. You might just find her giving you exactly what you want.” Ara said.

Sehun sighed, ruffling his hair once. “Maybe, I’ll see you girls at the party.” He strode past them and out the door, slamming it shut after him.

Doona looked at her friend and they both reached an unspoken conclusion. They would believe their friend about Sehun and they wouldn’t tell her about his visit.

Taehyung and I stuffed all of his kitchen cabinets with the new groceries and I began to make some noodles for us as he sat on the counter, swinging his head and watching me with great interest as I moved around his kitchen with ease.

“I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to learn how to cook, you know, it’s just…I can’t.” he confessed.

I rolled my eyes.

“You can whip up music out of thin air but you can’t make something edible from solid ingredients?” I asked.

“Exactly, it’s a curse.” He sighed.

I shoved his shoulder playfully and he laughed. “You were going to show me your song.” He reminded me.

“Oh right, here, keep stirring this or it will stick,” I said, handing him the large spoon as I went to the living room to rummage into my bag.

No paper…

My heart sped up for a split second at the thought of losing the lyrics that had come so easily to me before remembering that I must’ve left it at the stand of the mike set.

I cursed loudly.

“It’s not burnt, I didn’t do anything!” Tae called from the kitchen.

“Tae, you eat alone today, I need to go to Genius Lab!” I yelled.

“What? Why?” he called back.

“I forgot my song there!”

“Just get it later!”

“No! I don’t want to lose it! I don’t want,” I trailed off not completing my sentence.

I didn’t want Yoongi to see it.

I picked up my bag and ran for my life out the door.

I made it to college in an hour, my feet sore and aching from moving so fast, as I continued to run across the expanse of the campus to get to the studios.

I skidded twice on the smooth tiles of the hallways as I finally reached Genius Lab only to hear voices inside. Oh god, he was here and he was here with someone…

My heart sunk now…what if he had seen the lyrics? What would he think? Would he think they were ok? Or would he think they were for Sehun? Or would he figure it out and find out that it was for him? The tune was his pianos after all.

“I don’t see why you can’t just come with us. He invited you too.” That was Jimin.

“No, he invited you and Hobi, he only extended that invitation to me because I was there and he was drunk, like always.” Yoongi said.

“Y/N invited you.” Jimin said and there was a pause, long and meaningful. “What does that matter? It’s not her party. I doubt the guy really wants to see me there.” Yoongi said.

“Look, I understand why you feel averse to Sehun,” Jimin began.

“Excuse me? You don’t understand anything and you don’t know anything. Stop pushing your and Hobi’s wishful thoughts on me.” Yoongi snapped.

Another pause.

“It’s not wishful thinking if it’s true and you wouldn’t be snapping at me if I was Hobi.” Jimin said.

“Jimin, get out.”

“But Yoongi, just tell,” Yoongi cut him brusquely.

“I said out!”

I heard Jimin huff and the door swung open and Yoongi stood there, his face red and his nostrils flared as he held the door open for Jimin to walk out. Jimin was scowling at Yoongi but he froze, his expression smoothening out when he saw me, staring at them with wide, confused and slightly scared eyes.

Yoongi whipped his head to see what Jimin was looking at and even his eyes widened. “Y/N, why were you eavesdropping?” he snapped at me too.

“I wasn’t, I just came,” I lied, looking away as both men surveyed me but didn’t push it.

“Right, Jimin was just leaving.” Yoongi said, throwing a pointed look at Jimin who pursed his lips in obvious displeasure and threw me a smile. “See you at the party, Y/N.” he said and with a final look at Yoongi he walked off as I moved in, going straight to the stand.

The paper was still there and I sighed, sliding it out and into my bag as Yoongi closed the door, looking at me curiously.

“Am I rubbing off on you, sweetheart? I didn’t think you would come in today.” He said.

“You must be,” I offered weakly as he slid into the chair at the computer.

“Well, I’m sorry but I’m not working on the project today. I just didn’t want Namjoon to think both of us were slacking.” He said.

“You shouldn’t have to do that.” I said.

“It doesn’t matter. I need to work on my own stuff for a while and I figure you might want to get your boyfriend,”

“Sehun,” I said.

He grimaced, “Fine, I thought you might want to get Sehun, a present.” He said.

“Oh, um, well, I already got one for him, don’t worry.” I moved closer to his chair. “What are you working on?” I asked.

“Just some lyrics,” he moved the sheets away and I backed up, giving him the privacy he clearly asked for.

“You should go, I really do need to work.” He pressed and I nodded absently.

Why was he pushing me away like this? Was he hiding something? What were he and Jimin talking about?

I bundled up my questions for another time as I met his gaze, heated and focused on me completely as he waited for me to show myself out. I didn’t want to go though. His presence had soothed some of the frazzled nerves that always surrounded me and it was like I was itching for comfort, especially when I would have to spend time with Sehun tonight, who was the main cause for said frazzled nerves.

I just wanted him there even if just to take my edge off.

“Please, will you come to the party?” I asked.

He sighed, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I already said no, Y/N.” he said in a final ‘I won’t discuss this anymore’ tone.

“Fine,” I said softly, moving towards the door and letting myself out.

I had to get out of here.

I thought as Sehun laughed boisterously to something someone said from one of his classes. His arm was latched around my shoulders, his side pressing against mine, his voice echoing in my ears. It was his usual way of holding me, I was used to it but now his arm felt too heavy, his body uncomfortable against mine and his voice too loud.

I was feeling like the most terrible person to ever walk the earth.

Here I was, standing next to the man I said I loved, but now his very presence made me tense. It was his birthday for god’s sake. I was supposed to be happy for him but all I could think of how much more comfy it would’ve been if I was just sitting next to Yoongi, watching him perform magic on the computer while he talked and taught me how to do the same.

I was horrible and guilt was eating me alive. I could see Taehyung, Jimin and Hobi standing to one side with Ara and Doona and saw them pull each other to the dance floor but I stayed where I was, feeling too exhausted to join them.

I was so focused on my own thoughts that I didn’t feel my arm being taken and being led away until I heard Yerin speak in my ear. “You look like you have lost your entire family. Chill, what’s up?” she hissed.

“I just…it’s nothing, I have a headache and it’s too hot in here.” I said, fanning myself for extra measure.

It’s always been hot in here, Y/N. Would this headache, perhaps, be called Min Yoongi?” she asked.

“God, Yerin, honestly, you’re the one obsessing over him!” I hissed.

She kept looking at me and I sighed, looking down, making her chuckled. “This is funny actually. I mean not Yoongi, but it’s just that no one would’ve thought Sehun would lose you so spectacularly. Ara was just telling me,” she said.

“Wait, what was Ara telling you?” I frowned.

She took a sip of her drink, watching Sehun laugh around with narrowed eyes. “He showed up when you were out today. Even they think something is off about Sehun now, so you don’t have to worry about them being not in your ball court anymore.” She said.

“He…what…?” I asked.

“He didn’t do anything, exactly but we girls are intuitive. They picked up on something.” She shrugged.

I turned around slowly, watching Sehun as he smacked one of the guy’s back as they most like commented and joked about the girls in the club. I suddenly felt sick.

“Yerin,” I said quietly.

“Hmm,” she answered.

“I need a drink.” I said.

I had lost count of my drinks. I just knew that it was becoming dangerously close to ten.

I looked down at my glass full of the clear drink which had been burning my throat and making my brain full of fuzz but I didn’t stop myself from taking another gulp.

It was getting increasingly hotter in here and I wanted a cold shower.

“Y/N that is enough,” I heard Yerin mutter next to me as she grabbed the glass out of my hand, making me whine a little. “Seriously, if Ara and Doona find you like this they’re going to gut me. Let’s go to the bathroom and get you cleaned off.” She hissed.

“I don’t want to clean up. I want to go home.” I mumbled, dropping my head on her shoulder.

“We will, babe, but at least let’s make you decent enough to get home.” She said, trying and failing to haul me out of the bar stool.

“What’s going on here?”

Yerin winced and I turned my head, my poor pounding head, to see Sehun standing over me, looking from the glass to my clearly out of it position.

“Y/N, are you…how much did you drink?” he asked.

“A lot, I think,” I mumbled.

“Marvelous,” he glanced at Yerin, “You couldn’t even stop her?” he asked harshly.

“I am trying to help her, Sehun. Since you just showed up, I suggest you don’t talk about things you don’t know about.” Yerin retorted, still pulling on my hand. I swatted hers away.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N, it’s my birthday! You couldn’t control your alcoholic urges for one day? What did I do to deserve this?” he hissed, his own hand grasping mine and lifting me easily out of the chair with his extra strength.

I gasped, immediately pulling my hand away from his.

“My alcoholic urges? What the hell are you talking about?” I said.

“Please, don’t act like I don’t know what you do when I’m not around with your girls. You come here and drink yourself out of your mind. You did it the day we went out and you actually walked out on me. Who does that?” he asked.

“Someone who’s tired of her boyfriend – who said it was a date – always looking at his phone. Are you actually saying I was doing things under influence? Wow, Sehun,” I scoffed.

He frowned.

“You are really drunk! You never talk to me like this.” He said.

“Yes, well, I guess I should’ve. Maybe I need the drink to get some courage to speak in front of the big and mighty Oh Sehun. You have been nothing but a jerk to me for the past couple of months and you always apologize and do it again!” I said.

“I’ve been stressed!” he yelled.

“And I’m not your punching bag!” I yelled right back.

“Guys, shut up, both of you,” Yerin said.

Sehun and I glared at each other, neither of us willing to back off. If I had been sober I would’ve looked down and saved up my anger for later, stewing in it myself. Guess, the alcohol did make me braver because I scoffed at Sehun and brushed past him, shoving off of his shoulder as I walked away.

“Y/N, where are you going?” I heard Yerin walk out after me and I chuckled bitterly.

“Away from all this crap,” I said.

“Not exactly a satisfactory answer,” Yerin said.

“Do me a favor, Yerin, just for today, leave me alone,” I said, and didn’t look back as I kept on walking.

Yerin, mercifully, listened to me, albeit her face betraying her real emotions. She didn’t want to leave me alone in this condition. I was drunk, more than I had ever been and I was admittedly vulnerable right now but I didn’t want to acknowledge that right now.

It was true, I wouldn’t have let me walk away if I had been Yerin either but she knew how stubborn I could get.

I pulled my coat over my body tighter, thankful I had decided to wear boots instead of pumps.

I also was in no condition to walk home. I just didn’t want to be in the apartment where some vestiges of Sehun still remained. It was done. I was so done with him and his continuous bullshit.

Why should I sit around always waiting for him to be normal? This was obviously normal for him if he thought he could insult me all the time.

I stopped a couple blocks from the club, my feet slowing with my rising apprehension as the cold seeped into me, trying to battle my drunken haze but it was putting up a good fight, screaming at me that I made the right decision. Where was I supposed to do?

I couldn’t go to Yerin’s, or Taehyung’s or even Jimin’s. I was literally stranded.

Just as I was about to resign myself to go to my apartment the answer struck me out of nowhere, both terrifying and tempting at the same time.

I could go to Yoongi.

My mind immediately reminded my feet of the way to his building but I cowered away.

How would he react? Would he even let me in or would he see it as a breach in his privacy? What if his parents were there or his brother? What would he think of me, showing up on his doorstep?

Was I even ready to see him right now?

I shook my head as my feet metaphorically laughed at me, carrying me towards the classy neighborhood where people wrapped in expensive coats walked, too busy in their own worlds to notice my less that active and mindful steps.

I didn’t stop till I was in his elevator, moving up towards the top of the building to his penthouse.

As I stood at his door, my fist wondering if I should knock or not, my mind came to a screeching halt. This was wrong. I shouldn’t be here. What was I thinking?

Just as I was about to turn around the door swung open, revealing the one person I wanted to see but was so scared of facing.

Yoongi was in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, his pale skin starkly contrasting with it. His hair was completely brown now, no orange streaks shining in the lights. It was rumpled as if he’d been running his hands through his hair multiple times.

It was such a homely look yet Yoongi looked utterly attractive in it.

I stood frozen in front of him as he stared at me questioningly, his arms folded.

“The doorman told me you were coming up. I saw you standing in the camera for ten minutes,” he nodded at the security box next to the door and I nodded back, feeling foolish now. He’d known I was coming up. Why hadn’t he opened the door? Was it a test? Did he want to see if I was actually going to come to him? If that was so, why did he open up just as I was leaving? Did he want me to come to him?

So many questions whirled in my head, I could feel an actually headache coming on, which had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol I’d consumed.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. It was rude of me to show up like this. I shouldn’t have -,” I began.

“It’s ok,” he said quietly, still staring intensely at me.

“Right,” I said, backing up a bit more, still looking down, “I should go then.” I said.

He ignored it completely. “Come in,” he said.

My head snapped up to look at him as he moved inside the house, leaving the door open for me. I frowned in that direction. Did he mean it?

I didn’t ask, I just moved towards him and he shut the door after me.

It was so like the first time I’d been there, stopping just inside the door. “How drunk are you?” he asked. “What?” I asked. He gave me a pointed look at he brushed past me.

“You’re drunk. I can tell. There is no way you would come here sober.” He said, walking into the large kitchen at the back and bringing back a glass of water. “Sit on the couch,” he said, handing me the glass and moving away again.

I gripped the crystal cut glass nervously, moving to sit on the same spot I’d sat the first time I’d been here. He was right. I was still so unsure around him, given his past behavior and my own stupid feelings, I would never even think about coming to his house. I could hear him rummaging in his kitchen and the occasional sigh of annoyance that was so natural about him. I’d heard him do the same sigh, when the college computer froze or when he was scribbling at it won’t be as good or when he thought I wasn’t listening when he was teaching me something.

I sipped at the ice cold water gingerly when he came back, a ceramic plate in hand.

“I don’t have any food in the house. I forgot to make a run today but I have these. It should be enough. If you’re hungry, I could order some takeout.”

He placed the plate of chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table before sitting beside me, a good distance away, I noticed.

“Don’t drink the water like its wine. You’re supposed to shock your system into soberness.” He chastised and I obeyed, taking in a large gulp before giggling.

Min Yoongi had chocolate chips in his house.

“What?” he asked.

“You have chocolate chip cookies?” I asked.

He scowled at me. “Problem, sweetheart?” he demanded.

“No, it’s just…I didn’t think you were a chocolate chip kind of person.” I said.

He huffed. “I’m not. They are Jimin’s favorite. He and Hobi are the ones who do the drunk crashing here. You just joined that lost.” He said.

I reddened. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -,” I said but he interrupted again. “Stop it; I said its ok, didn’t I? What did Sehun do now?” he asked, stretching his arm across the back of the sofa towards me.

I sighed before mumbling about what had happened at the Club.

“I know I should end it but…” I trailed off when I saw his eyes flicker.

“What’s stopping you?” he asked.

I shrugged, munching on a cookie. “I guess I’m just scared.” I said. He frowned. “Of what?” he asked.

I looked up at him to see his eyes on me but they weren’t intense. He was genuinely curious. His eyes were still boring into me but they weren’t fierce, they had a quiet sort of tension in them. I studied him.

Unbeknownst to me, he had moved closer in the span of my story, he was sitting at almost touching distance now, his knee just shy of grazing my folded legs.

I followed the line of his nose and looked at his lips, supple and smooth. I almost whined at the sight. It was so unfair. I would’ve been lying if I’d said I hadn’t thought about what they would feel like on me, when I was both sober and drunk. Now he was so closed and I was still afraid.

“Tell me what you are scared of.” He said a silent command in the words.

I was scared of him. I was scared of what Sehun would do. I was scared of what Yoongi wouldn’t do. To be honest, I was just scared of what I was feeling.

I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out. Instead I unconsciously leaned into him. He smelt warm, like fabric softener and cinnamon with just a hint of something else. Something, darker and more impressive, I couldn’t place my finger on it.

“What are you doing?” he asked suddenly but he didn’t sound affronted. He sounded surprised but I didn’t care. I was officially out of it now. I just wanted to feel his lips…just once, I had wanted to for so long. One touch wouldn’t hurt anyone…I was just coveting something secretly, just one simple brush…

I felt his warm breath on my cheek as I, excruciatingly slowly and nervously, closed my lips on his full bottom lip. His body had frozen, he wasn’t even breathing as I pressed my lips on his, the bottom lips parting gently as he swallowed harshly.

I let go of the lip but didn’t pull completely away.

Wow…that was softer than what I’d been imagining and a lot more addicting. My eyes shifted from his now slightly redder lower lip to the perfectly formed upper lip, wondering if I could sneak in another feel. I wasn’t hurting anybody, I was just hurting myself because it would be the last…he wouldn’t mind a last touch. I brushed my lips against the upper curve, placing tiny kissed on the cupid bow when his lips moved under me.

“Y/N,” he said.

My name came out breathy and husky and I backed up to look at him. His eyes were wide, his nostrils flared, lips still parted. His posture hadn’t changed at all, as he stared at me. His eyes were raging now but I didn’t know if it was anger. It didn’t seem like anger as he reached out with the hand he had on the back of the sofa, his pianist hands cradling my head, gently while the other came up to run two fingers down the expanse of my temple to chin, a softness I wouldn’t even dream of coming from him.

“Yoongi,” I muttered and he snapped, all gentleness thrown out the window as he slammed his mouth on mine.

Our teeth clashed but he didn’t stop, pressing into me harder and pushing me closer to him as his lips, hot and plush kept attacking mine, prying my mouth open so he could slip in a tongue, dominating over mine without a fight. His fingers dug in my chin, the other going into my hair as he turned so our bodies were aligned, no space left between them.

He pulled away just as fast as he’d kissed me, eyes hypnotic as he glared at me. Was he going to scold me now?

“What do you think you’re doing to me?” he growled before using his grip of my hair to pull me back to him, this time his mouth just slightly softer against mine but still demanding and ruthless, his tongue easily moving into my mouth as I panted against his lips.

“Yoongi,” I moaned when he brushed it against the top of my mouth, but it wasn’t teasing, the way Sehun did it. It was a taunt. I remembered he’d seen us in class that day, when I’d caught him staring at us. He had clearly seen that tactic and my reaction to it. He was using it to mock Sehun, making the move his own, using it in a way I would never be able to associate it to anyone else but Yoongi.

He cursed as he moved away from me, fingers unlatching from me as he stood up; hand reaching out to grip my arm as he pulled me up. I stumbled against him, my intoxication still making me heady and he stopped, examining me carefully. “Are you sure?” he asked.

My eyes were already fixed on his mouth and I didn’t even hear the question as I tried to kiss him. He held me back and made me focus on his eyes. “Y/N, are you absolutely sure?” he asked, giving me a gentle shake just to get the point across.

“Yes, yes, please just kiss me,” I nodded desperately.

I would say anything just to get him to touch me. He chuckled darkly, his lips coming too close before moving away again as I chased after his mouth. “So needy,” he breathed, his hands settling on my shoulder as he angled his head against my neck, lips pressing to the point just under my ear, his loud breaths echoing in my ear.

I tilted my head to give him more access and he began nibbling his way down to my collar bone, his teeth digging in for a split second but it was enough to make my breath hitch, a cry rising up as he rolled his tongue on the spot to soothe the sting.

“So sensitive,” he said as he began to push me back. We moved to a hallway and he backed me into the wall, his mouth against mine again, kissing me slowly now, teasingly, pulling back just as I let myself lose into him. I clutched his shirt, bunching the material in my fingers, keeling slightly when he moved away again, making him grin.

“Yoongi, please!” I said and he smirked, before opening a door open and pushing us both in.

It was his bedroom but I couldn’t see anything properly, what with my attention diverted to more interesting things and also that he had a small white light on in the floor corners. His fingers were moving across my back, seeking the zipper and he pulled it down, and almost ripping the dress in the process.

“I thought you liked the dress,” I mumbled when he let the dress pool around my ankles.

“I do, but you wore it for him.” He said, a small hint of annoyance rising in his onyx eyes.

“I got the dress because you liked it,” I said, watching the annoyance, switch with pleasant surprise before his trademark smirk spread over his face again.

“I’ll apologize to the dress later then.” he said as his hands went to my hips, pushing me back to study me before looking back into my eyes again.

“Want me to touch you, sweetheart?” he taunted.

“Please,” I whispered, and he immediately obeyed, as he jerked me back him and wrapped his arms around me, dropping his head to my chest, placing chaste rough kisses over the skin, stopping to suck here and there.

I threw my head back as he arched my back, undoing the bra clasp and pulling away so he could watch it fall the strapless bra fall off of me. He let out a low grunt.

“Fuck, Y/N.” With a light shove he pushed me on my back on the bed and grinned as he removed his shirt.

“You look good, spread out like this for me,” he said and moved closer, grabbing my ankle and hiking it up as he started placing kisses from my ankles, moving down with each inch of skin before curving around my knee, hands grabbing at the things as he pushed them apart, eyes on my face as I stared at his ministrations.

“Hips,” he said and I obediently raised them as he slipped his hands under my body, fingers hooking around the waistband of the black satin underwear and tugging them down, not once removing his eyes from mine.

He only looked away when he let the smooth fabric fall on the floor, joining them as he kneeled there, looking at my core with his lips pulled between his teeth.

“Look how wet you are,” he breathed, swiping his fingers over my folds before holding them up for me to see. The light was too low but I could easily see the juices glistening on his fingertips as he smirked and put them in his mouth, sucking on them as if it was liquid chocolate. I moaned at the sight, my head falling back.

Heat was raging in my body as I felt him move away to just stare at me. He was as close as I wanted him but I needed him closer. I wanted him to consume me and he wasn’t going to do that standing and just looking at me.

“Yoongi please, do something.” I said, propping myself on his cool sheets. I was about to implode if he didn’t put his hands on me.

“What do you want me to do, sweetheart? Where do you want me?” he asked, moving closer and leaning down to place both his hands on either side of my body, hovering over m but still not touching me.

I leant up and kissed around his neck and shoulders, going down his chest.

“I want you to fuck me,” I said against his equally hot skin and he cursed again, turning his head so he could look me in the eyes. “Are you…?” he began but I cut him off with a rough kiss, clashing tongues and teeth. “Yes, please, I need you inside me.” I said, reaching down to his now obvious erection and palming it lightly.

“Don’t tease me.” he growled.

“Rich coming from you, you’ve been teasing me all this time,” I said but he reached down and slipped a finger inside me and I gasped, words disappearing in my mouth as my head lolled back, making him chuckle.

“Am I still teasing, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and husky as he bent down and took a nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling rhythmically while alternating it with light and harsh sucks.

I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, another wish fulfilled I thought as I held him against my skin and he pushed another finger inside me, spreading my juices around as his thumb circled my clit, the rough pad of his digits proving the perfect friction as he curled his fingers inside me, reaching the spot easily to make me see stars.

I cried out and he let go of my breast with a pop. “Found it,” he announced, triumphantly as he moved to the other nipple, paying it the same attention.

“Please, Yoongi,” I said, feeling a coil form in my abdomen, pulsating inside me to let go. He pulled his fingers out immediately at the sound and I mouthed wordlessly at him, feeling the heat subside.

“You’re going to come on my cock, sweetheart. Here, taste how delicious you are,” he brought his fingers up to my mouth and I flinched slightly.

Sehun had never done this. He complimented me when he went down on me yes, but he had never done this. Yoongi could probably tell from my face that I’d never done this but he just rocked his sweat pant clad bulge against me. “Open up,” he ordered and I slowly let my mouth fall open, letting his slip a slender finger in. “Suck,” he said.

I licked gingerly along the finger. It was slick and slightly salty but it was probably just me, I couldn’t taste anything else. He seemed satisfied though because he pulled out the finger and slipped the second finger in his own mouth, sucking it clean before kissing me.

The taste of me on his mouth however, that was amazing. He licked into my mouth and I reached down to push his pants off. He wasn’t wearing anything under it, I realized gleefully and he involuntarily let out a loud groan as I wrapped my fingers around his length, pumping him before lining him up with my entrance. “Hang on,” he muttered but I shook my head. “I’m on my pills, just please,” I said, pushing my hips up towards him.

He watched me do it with his jaw slack and he looked up, giving me a sharp look before thrusting unexpectedly. I let out a cry as he slid in then pulled out shallowly, and with another harder thrust nestled completely inside me.

We both still when he was fully inside, him giving me time to adjust as I tried not to squirm under him. He pressed his forehead against mine, his heavy pants washing over me as I bucked my hips into his, urging him to move. Cursing and grunting he began to pull out, stopping halfway then pushing back in, his thrusts in time with my moans as he straightened, hands holding on to my hips for leverage as he watched me climb up to my release.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, Y/N. You’ve been torturing me for so long.” He groaned, as his eyes fell shut and his breathing labored. He leaned in to place one hand over my head, the other sliding in under me to arch my body up to his. His forehead was sweaty, making the fringe of chestnut hair stick to it as my chest moved against him in time to his thrust, the new angle allowing him to brush against my sweet spot.

I could feel the tense heat coil up in my stomach again and I almost sobbed for Yoongi to not stop. I needed this. I needed Yoongi to do this.

“I won’t stop, sweetheart, come on,” he encouraged, as his own words stuttered, signaling he was close too.

“Shit, I’m going to come. Fuck, Y/N, come now.” He ordered and moved both hands so one was wrapped around my nipple, pulling at it and the other went to encircle my clit, rubbing harshly.

I don’t know if I screamed, or blacked out but one second I was on the top of the mountain and the next I was plummeting, pleasure exploding all around me, making my nerves tingle and organs to deflate with sudden exhaustion. Yoongi groaned when he felt me clench around me, his head falling on my shoulder. “You’re so tight. Fuck, I’m coming.” He let out a grunt before burying himself inside me to the hilt.

He stayed hovering over me, arms around me as we both gasped for precious air. He pulled out and rolled off me, breathing still heavy as he dragged his comforter around us.

I snuggled into the warmth as my mind gratefully gave into blissful slumber.