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spunkpunx · 3 years ago

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Slush Puppy - Part 2

George Daniel x Reader x (Slight) Matty Healy

Chapter 2: Man of Oil

"I find it so hard to tell you I'm afraid to forget the smell of you"

Warnings: Smoking, Drinking, Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Vomiting, Marmite

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @emo-milk

A/N: I’m so sorry this has taken so long but I had to rewrite big parts of it because I really wasn’t happy with it. On a positive; I made a video trailer for the series that you can watch here. I love you all for putting up with my slack timings xxx

It was early in the morning when I woke up. The light soaked lazily through the gap in the curtains that hid the french doors to the balcony. I could just about see a slither of slate grey sky from where I was lying. Matty was asleep, arm draped over my bare waist. I reached for my phone on the side table to check the time. It was almost 9 o'clock. I’d had maybe three hours sleep.

Carefully, I slipped out of Matty's grasp, trying to allow him some more time in bed. My throat was sore, scratchy from the cigarettes and spliffs yesterday, and my head felt weighed down as if it had been filled with sand.

I padded quietly to the bathroom and got a glass of hotel room water, gulping it down almost desperately, ignoring the unsatisfying taste. Somehow I'd remembered to take my makeup off last night, so at least I didn't have clumpy mascara crusting up my tired eyes. I turned the shower on, stripping and stepping in, hoping to attempt to wash away the weary feeling that seemed to linger in my bones.

The water rushed over me came as a slight release, running across my skin in hot little trails that warmed me through. I wished I hadn't drank so much wine. My brain was muggy and throbbing. My heart palpitated in my chest, and I felt a sharp pang, making me lean forward in distress. My vision swam for a moment and I was suddenly lightheaded, placing my hand flat against the wet tiles to steady myself while I waited for the feeling to pass. At least I knew I wasn't an alcoholic. The thought of drinking anything stronger than coffee almost made my stomach turn. There was no chance of trying the hair of the dog approach. As I regained my balance I felt a little worried about my sudden dizzy spell, but then I realised it was probably due to getting in a very hot shower with very little sleep and a bad hangover.

After washing my hair and drying myself off I returned to the bedroom, not bothering to cover up. Matty groaned and rolled over in the bed, but remained asleep, letting out quiet, soft snores. I went into my suitcase and put on a soft bra and underwear, then rummaged around until I found my trusty brown slacks, comfortable but relatively smart looking. I pulled on a black lace cami top and colourful mohair cardigan and brushed out my hair before going to the balcony again for the last cigarette in my crumpled pack, my heart still racing. The breeze made the hairs on my skin raise, and I shivered slightly as I looked out across the city, puffing on my fag. By the time I'd smoked it down to the last quarter I already regretted not saving it for later because I didn't really want to go out and get more.

I returned to the room and sat myself on the bed next to Matty, pulling my knees up and propping some pillows against the headboard so I could recline slightly as I attempted to re-read the only other book I'd brought with me; Last Exit To Brooklyn. After the first couple of chapters I got distracted by my phone and the book lay forgotten as I scrolled through all the mindless shit on Instagram and then Twitter. When social media became slightly too heavy for my brain and the nausea had sort of faded away I got up to make a cup of tea. The hissing rumble of the kettle woke Matty, and he sat up, rolling his shoulders and yawning dramatically in an almost cartoonish way. He stretched his arms up with a groan, and as his hands came back down one of them landed on my discarded book. He picked it up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Whattya reading?" he asked me, despite being able to read the title himself. The water bubbled loudly in the kettle, and it clicked itself off.

"Selby Jr," I replied, offhand. I poured the hot water into one of the teacups I'd found in the drawer below, wondering why they couldn't just have proper mugs. Who in their right mind wanted a saucer with their tea in the morning? I imagined some kind of Downton Abbey, Maggie Smith type character sitting in the bland chain hotel room, sipping on a china cup.

"What are your thoughts so far?" Matty inquired, flicking through the dog eared pages. I wondered if he had read it, then quickly realised that of course he had. An obscene novel about suffering deviants in the underbelly of 1950s New York? It was exactly his kind of niche.

"Well considering this is the fifth time I've read it, there's not been a shocking revelation this time round," I joked, adding sugar into my cuppa.

"It's a good book. A bit distressing in places," he pointed out, and I agreed pensively.

"Tea?" I offered. He shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm feeling a bit sick."

"You can go back to sleep if you want," I told him. "You don't have to get up because I have." I sat down cross legged on the mattress, taking a mouthful of still very hot tea. It seared my tongue but I swallowed it down quickly, trying not to pull a face.

"It's okay, I can't sleep with you bumbling around the room anyway," he teased, and I gave him a disapproving glare.

"Hey," I defended myself. "This is my hotel room, you know." Matty looked around as if he was just realising where he was.

"Really?" he said. "I thought we were in mine."

"Oh god. You do remember last night don't you?" I asked, a sudden wave of guilt and panic twisting in my gut. He laughed at my reaction.

"Yes I remember last night you idiot. Stop worrying that you sexually assaulted me." He paused. "Unless you did something naughty to me while I was asleep," he quipped, wiggling his eyebrows. I tossed a pillow at his head.

"Not funny," I scolded him, but I could't suppress my smile. He grinned back at me. "Have you got any spare fags?"

"Nah, they all got cained last night. By me, admittedly, but cained nonetheless."

"Shit, I really can't be bothered going to the offy," I sighed, checking the empty packet again in case I'd somehow not looked properly, then I tossed it toward the bin. It bounced off the rim and landed on the floor.

"If I can get a shower I'll come with you," he offered, and I thought that sounded slightly better than going on my own.

"Yeah, alright," I agreed. I stood up again, going to my suitcase to try and find some socks. As I pulled them out I realised they were all dirty beyond a passable level, so I made Matty wait for his shower while I washed a pair in the sink with a slither of hotel soap. He washed and while he did I used the hotel hairdryer to dry my wet socks, slipping each one over the end of the appliance and switching them until they weren't as damp. Matty laughed at me when he came back in, and I laughed at him because his towel was tied under his armpits as opposed to at his waist. Matty got dressed back in last night's clothes and I put on my socks and chunky loafers, chucking my purse and phone and stuff into a LUSH tote bag. We decided to swing by his room so he could put on some fresh clothes.

"How come you look so good even when you're hungover?" he grumbled as we walked down the halls.

"If it makes you feel better, I feel fucking shit," I heartened. I glanced over at him, his hair wet, looking scruffy in his rumpled shirt. "It suits you, though. That kind of tired bedraggled look."

He pulled a V sign at me with his fingers, falsely affronted, and we got into the lift, pressing the button up. I got my phone out of my bag, tapping Matty on the arm as I pointed my camera at the mirror. We both struck a pose, me going for a miserable pout and a middle finger, and Matty mirroring me, except with a cheesy grin.

When Matty disappeared into his hotel room I decided to wait by the lift, checking through my phone while he went and got changed. Instagram had blown up. Hann had posted the photo of me and Matty in the dressing room before the show yesterday, tagging me. I had almost 700 new followers already. I refreshed the comments, reading some of them as they flooded in.

maaria.04 Matty looks so hot!!

wayeen._ Drunk teenager x 1975 collab? <3

1975stann.0 MATTY NEW GIRLFRIEND???!!?

ingadefort he looks so moody i love it

kiria._l0ve OMG I LOVE DRUNK TEENAGER U GUYS HANG OUT!!!!???

102matty Bisexual's dream fml

mis3ry_busin3ss Idk who she is but I ship it

I double tapped, liking the post. It was a little insane, in the photograph we were just sat next to each other, not even looking in each other's direction. Just by simply being in his presence I had been linked to him romantically. His fans were so dedicated to him, which was a beautiful thing, but I still wondered quite how he managed to stay sane when every move he made was so public.

"(Y/n)?" Came a recognisable voice from behind me. I turned to see George coming around the corner and I smiled.

"Hey, if it isn't my knight in shining armour," I greeted him with a tight hug, and his arms snaked around my waist again, his chin resting on the top of my head.

"How are you doing today, damsel in distress?" he grinned, rocking me slightly before he let me go and we returned to a comfortable closeness.

"Like someone has replaced my brain with worms and Polyfilla," I complained, rubbing my temple. He laughed a sweet laugh and I smiled again in spite of myself.

"I'm not sure what your knight in shining armour can do about that," he joked, and against my will my heart fluttered slightly in my chest.

"You're a real life St George," I told him, grinning.

"Does that make you the princess?" he asked, a keen glint in his eye. He was definitely flirting now, I was sure I could tell. His tone had changed slightly, his eyes watching me and making me look at the ground almost shyly.

"Definitely not, I'm too much of a fuckwit," I replied tactlessly, immediately dissuading any romantic tensions. "Fucksake, " I muttered, my eyes glancing at the time reflected back at me by my phone screen. "What on earth is taking Matty so long?" George raised his eyebrows, apparently surprised.

"Oh. You're with Matty," he said, a little dryly. I shrugged, somehow feeling like I'd put my foot in it.

"Yeah, funnily enough I'm not just hanging around by the lifts for fun. We're going to the offy for fags." I hesitated. "Do you want to come with?" George raised his eyebrows and I realised it was probably a strange thing to ask. After all, who wanted to be invited round the corner to buy cigarettes.

"Yeah, I might as well," he replied, running his hand through his hair and smiling at me. I fiddled with a loose thread on my bag.

"Cool, sorry it's not something a bit more interesting. I'm too hungover to go for a walk. The weathers a bit too grey for it as well. Scotland is quite cold," I apologised. He shook his head and we stood for a moment. I wished I had something more interesting to say, but my head was banging and I felt delayed off of two odd hours of sleep. Instead I'd resigned my words to inefficacious small talk about the weather. How fucking British. The conversation dissolved into a stagnant silence, until he broke it.

"Hey, princess." George quickly fumbled in the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out his own box of cigarettes. He took one from the cardboard packet and placed it between his own lips then offered me them, and I mirrored his actions silently, our eyes locking as I rested the filter in my mouth and my heart jumped slightly as I noticed his gaze linger. George had such expressive eyes. They were dark, but in the light the reflected the idea of warm mahogany or something equally as predictable. There was reason Danny handled the lyrics. 'Show me a brown eye and I will show you my idea of heaven' came to mind.

He broke first, grinning at me. "Matty will be fucking ages, let's wait out the front," he suggested, and I agreed.

We waited outside for twenty minutes, chain smoking George's cigarettes while I scuffed my nice shoes against the grubby pavement and George threaded his thumb through the hole in his sleeve, conversation flowing better after the fresh air had shifted my brain's mugginess somewhat. The off-license was in view at the bottom of the road. We could have gone and been back several times already. I let out an annoyed sigh.

"For fuck sake, let's just go already," I complained. "He's clearly not coming down. As if he was going to just leave me waiting for him," I complained. I moved to cross the road.

"Careful, princess," George warned me, pulling me back from the road as a car came past. If I hadn't been so caught off guard by the nickname that was beginning to stick then I would have gone off about how I wasn't a total idiot and that I was going to wait for the car to go first. Instead, I just sort of stood there, trying to form a coherent thought, George's protective hand on my arm. He let go of me, hands returning to his pockets as he crossed over to the other pavement. He looked over his shoulder at me.

"Are you coming then?" he asked and I nodded, hurrying after him with unusual urgency.

When we got inside the shop George and I had a mini exploration of the shelves, laughing at a load of off brand products with funny names until out throats hurt. George suggested we buy a load and then get high and eat them, so he filled his arms with rip off crisps and chocolate and biscuits. We queued and paid the hostile Scottish man at the till, who seemed displeased with our giggling and English accents, a lot more than anyone else in Glasgow had been. I got a box of fags for Matty as well as myself, then George and I stepped out the door into the street, grey clouds still mugging up the sky. As we began to walk back down the street I spotted a head shop, smiling to myself. In the glass doorway was a neon sign reading Ali's Vapes. I turned to George, who was swinging the plastic bag from the last shop by his side.

"Let's go in there," I suggested, stopping by the door. He grinned, raising an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"They're funny to look around, shops like that. Plus, who knows how long they'll last after the Psychoactive Substance Ban. C'mon, it could be our last opportunity to buy Spice," I encouraged, and he gave me a look.

"We can go in, but I swear to god you are not buying any legal highs," he relented, turning to give me a stern look as he pushed the door open, holding it for me. I curtseyed mockingly and he scoffed, rolling his eyes. We walked through the glass cabinets full of skins and vapes and grinders. "Remind me why we're here," George complained.

"Because, dear George, somewhere around here... Ah! There it is. The mega-bong," I announced enthusiastically, pointing at a cabinet towards the back of the shop. Flanked by a wide selection of other bongs and shishas and pipes, the mega-bong in this particular shop was more spectacular than I'd expected, so much so that even the stoner beside me seemed impressed. It was around a meter tall, made out of both clear and red glass. The base was held by a small model of a stereotypical Jamaican Rasta with sunglasses and a joint hanging from his smiling mouth and the pipe itself included a complex and frankly over-the-top amount of percolators. We looked at it through the glass.

"Fucking hell, you're right," George laughed. "That's bloody ridiculous."

"Yeah, I know," I grinned back. "Hey, look! This one is shaped like Eric Cartman. Fuck, it's so cute," I cooed, looking at the little ceramic South Park figure. George chuckled at me. "Do you remember all those headshops back in Manc? Danny bought some Spice once, but that was like..." I tried to do the maths in my head. "2005, maybe? I think it's a whole different drug now."

"Yeah, me and Matty used to fuck about with dabs a lot more frequently back in the day."

"I remember," I cackled, recalling coming across the two of them a few times when they were so high they were almost astral projecting. The memory made me smile, two dopey boys tangled up on a sofa, grinning at me with half lidded eyes as I tried to shift them on to another lame party. It was always more fun when all of us went. "You and Matty have always been the dream team," I added, simply.

"He's my other half," George explained.

"I swear to God, promise me nothing will ever come between you, 'cause if you and Matty can't make it then where's hope for the rest of us?"

"Fucking hell, you make it sound like we're married."

"Has the wedding not happened yet?"

"Shut up," he dismissed, giving me a little shove. I shoved him back, laughing, before noticing a face watching through the glass at the front of the shop. She was hard to spot from the distance we were at, but undeniably there. A starstruck teenage girl with chestnut hair.

"Hey, Georgie," I pointed out. "You have an admirer." He looked up, spotting the same girl I'd seen and waved at her in a friendly manner. She looked surprised, then moved away from the glass. A moment later the shop door opened and she came in, shyly making her way towards George.

"Are you George Daniel?" she asked meekly, as though she'd somehow made a mistake. She looked around fifteen, with big, watery blue eyes.

"Yeah," replied George kindly. "Nice to meet you."

The girl paused for a second, totally awestruck. Her eyes flickered toward me inquisitively, trying to figure out my part in this interaction.

"Is this your girlfriend?" she asked, and I found myself taken aback by how blunt even the most demure of the band's fans could be. Much to my surprise, George didn't respond how I'd expected.

"Yeah, this is my girlfriend," he said, turning back to me with a mischievous glint in his eye. I pouted in disapproval. "Isn't that right, baby?"

The nickname made me do a double take. He'd said it so casually, but it still made my stomach twist pleasantly and heat rush to my cheeks. I wasn't sure what to say for a moment. I did't know why he'd said we were going out, except maybe to deliberately wind me up, which wasn't totally out of character. I decided to roll with it, after all, it would be weird to deny.

"Yeah, that's right,” I agreed. The girl asked George for a photo, and I took my cue to slink off to give her a chance to talk to her idol without me hanging around.

When George came outside where I had been waiting for him I immediately narrowed my eyes at him.

"You bastard," I cursed, and another grin stretched across his face.

"What?" he looked at me indignantly.

"Don't act like you don't know," I scoffed, and he chuckled.

"It was funny, I didn't expect you to get so flustered," he admitted.

"I don't know, I could get in a lot of shit if that came out," I explained.

"Why would we get in shit for dating?"

"Because we aren't dating. You lied about it," I laughed.

"Wanna go back in?" he teased, and I shook my head.

"Absolutely not."

---

There was a loud knock at the door of my hotel room. I groaned, getting George to move his head from my lap as I handed him the spliff. I clambered awkwardly over the back of the sofa. We had moved it from it's space by the wall and forced it out onto the balcony. It was a small sofa, but it took up all the available space between the doors and the railings and the door wouldn't shut properly so we had to leave them open. It had made the hotel room cold, but we'd wrapped up warm to sit outside. Whoever was at the door knocked again.

"One minute," I shouted at them, unlocking the door.

"Hey, Mopsy, are you ready to go?" asked Leon, stood in the hall.

"Go where?" I asked, confused. He looked at me in surprise.

"To the airport! Mops! The plane is in a fucking hour," he scolded me, and then it clicked in my head.

"Shit!" I swore, quickly spinning around and frantically shoving shit into my suitcase, leaving Leon to follow me into the room. "George," I said. He lifted his head, peeking over the side of the sofa. "Did you pack your stuff?"

"Yeah I did it this morning," he replied. I rolled my eyes. So it was only me who had forgotten.

"Apparently we're leaving, I haven't even packed," I groaned. He checked his watch.

"Oh, I didn't even realise it was that time already," he said simply, taking another toke on the spliff.

"Wait, George is here?" Leon asked, apparently a few steps behind on the conversation. I didn't reply, too busy grabbing all my stuff from the bathroom. I went back into the bedroom, pushing all of my stuff into my suitcase so I could zip it shut. I moved around to the side table, picking up my phone charger and the book from the side of the table and shoving them into my bag. I looked round, seeing Leon now sat on the balcony toking the spliff. George was sat up now, his knees pulled up to his chest because the railings were pushed right against the edge of the sofa.

"Fucksake, I muttered, checking all the drawers to make sure I hadn't left anything behind.

"Hey, princess," George teased, tilting his head back to look at me over the back of the sofa. "Stop stressing."

I bristled, tutting slightly and continued to pack, aware that George was now watching me do so.

I was glad to be leaving the hotel room finally. I didn't like staying in hotels because it always made me feel like I was stuck in limbo, like a halfway point between where I had started and where I was supposed to be. The liminal nature of hotels unnerved me more than planes and trains and tour buses, because at least then I knew I was actively going somewhere. I tended to try my best not to think about it, but waiting didn't suit me and I was generally prone to existentialism.

I got my stuff together quickly and after moving the sofa back to its place (we may have been on tour but that wasn't the cleaners fault) and going past George's to get his bag we headed down to the lobby to meet the others. Andy, acting tour manager at least for now, looked like he was on the brink of blowing his fuse. He was pacing around, checking his watch, and his cheeks were flushed the same shade they always went right before he flew off the handle. I recognised it immediately. He spun around as we approached, his eyes wide with frustration. He huffed twice, composing himself.

"What took you so long?” Andy asked Leon with a slightly pained expression. We weren’t late, but we almost had been. Andy had no tolerance for bad punctuality; he wanted everyone ready to go at least an hour in advance and got stressed quite quickly when things didn't work out that way. I wondered why he'd chosen this career.

"(Y/n) was just getting her shit together," Leon replied flippantly. Andy nodded once, wringing his hands. He didn't speak again for a moment, like he was talking himself out of killing someone, but then inhaled deeply and snapped back into action.

"Right, there's three taxis outside. Let's go," he ordered sternly, and like a group of tired out school kids we meandered outside to leave for the airport. I ended up in the middle seat between Danny and Kirsten, with Leon in the front. As the taxi moved, she sighed, tilting her head back.

"I'm never taking drugs again," she complained, putting on a pair of sunglasses and arranging her hair around her face. "I can't even shit properly."

"Fucking nice to know, Kirst," Danny groaned, not pleased at the visual image we all had to imagine.

"It's true though," she argued back. "I'm fucking clogged up."

"Ugh, I was fine with the first part but you're getting a bit graphic now," I laughed. She rested her forehead on the glass of the window, but changed her mind when her head kept banging against the glass as the vehicle moved along the road.

"My head hurts," she whined, looking particularly self-pitying. I put my arm around her, letting her rest her head on my shoulder while I patted her soothingly.

"Just fuck already," Danny joked, immediately ruining the peaceful moment. I pulled the middle finger at him.

---

After a pretty boring check in and a slightly chaotic trip through airport security, the group made it onto the plane. Matty had of course taken a load of Valium so that he wouldn't be conscious for the flight. I understood exactly why he hated flying. I was usually okay if I sat next to the window, because at least I was able to see I was going somewhere. It wasn't a long flight, just an hour and a half.

I swapped with Danny to make sure I was able to see out of the plane. Being in the sky didn't bother me as much as it should have, maybe because I never really dropped my teenage invincibility fable. Danny was on the aisle seat. Matty had panned almost immediately, in the middle seat.

"What's his issue with planes?" Danny asked me, nodding towards the sleeping man between us. "He's not scared of flying. I don't get why he doesn't just enjoy doing nothing for a bit."

"He just doesn't like having to sit still for ages without the option of being able to leave," I explained briefly, pulling my headphones down.

"I don't get that at all. I fucking love a bit of peace," Danny said. I smiled. Danny had always been like that, patient. When we were kids any punishment involving him being sent to his room or grounded was totally pointless. He could sit for hours, calmly waiting until he was allowed out again, drawing or even just thinking, and when he was back he would be just as badly behaved as before.

"I get it," I replied, considering for a moment. "It's kind of like being put to bed when you're a kid. You don't hear 'go to bed', you just hear 'go lie down in the dark and don't get up until I say so'."

"Doesn't sound that bad to me," he shrugged.

"Yeah, I bet you'd fucking love it to be fair," I scoffed. "How do you not get bored?"

"I just think, you know. Contemplate shit. I don't know when my next chance to just do nothing will be," he described, while I nodded.

“I wish I could do that, I don’t think I’ve ever just done nothing without my brain going crazy.” I paused. “What time are we supposed to be meeting Julian?”

“Shit, I forgot about that. We have that fucking interview thing afterwards as well,” Danny swore. He got his phone out and checked the time. “It’s at quarter to four. I’m not going to have time to go home first, do you mind if I just drop my stuff off at yours?” he asked.

“Yeah mate, go for it,” I told him. Danny knew me, and he wouldn’t outstay his welcome. I needed my own space, especially after being around so many people for the last few days. I got stressed without a break, it made me slightly more emotionally fragile.

Julian Pace was our manager. He had noticed us at a gig in Leeds and signed us immediately to Dirty Hit, the same label that Jamie Oborne had began just a year prior. I did worry at first that we may have been signed simply through our friendship with the 1975, but after a frank discussion with Jamie, he assured me that although Matty had suggested Julian go and see us play, Julian was very picky and would not sign any band unless they were very good.

Julian could be stubbornly specific sometimes, but he generally allowed us the creative freedom we needed and we we’re never put under pressure to write music without warning. Julian was broad shouldered with a greying beard despite the fact he was quite young. He had a tendency to be blunt, but in my experience any creative practice involved bearing your soul and being told to go fuck yourself afterwards, so it never bothered me. He was tremendously good at what he did.

I leaned back into my seat, pulling my headphones back over my ears and looking out the window at the wispy clouds outside the window. They drifted below the plane like smudges of smoke, marked out against the green below. I listened to a Leonard Cohen song, and then afterwards Bonkers by Dizzee Rascal came on and I considered I might need to organise my playlists better. I noticed Danny scrawling something down in the little red notebook which he took everywhere and, unable to resist, pulled my headphones back down to speak to him again.

"Another song?" I enquired. He looked up at me, distracted.

"Nah. Well, potentially, but I haven't got much to write about at the minute," he explained. He scribbled something out and chewed the end of his pen.

"Write another Holden Caulfield song, I liked the last one," I told him uselessly. Danny rolled his eyes, smiling in amusement.

"Yeah, somehow I think one was enough."

I stopped myself from telling him that everything he wrote was good because it wasn't helpful.

"Well maybe if you can't write anything we'll just have to do an album without you, something instrumental," I teased. He scoffed, shutting the notebook and chucking it back in his bag.

"Piss off. I'm a guitarist too."

"Could replace you with a loop pedal to be honest."

"You're a prick," he laughed.

---

Danny and I dropped our stuff off at mine and I whacked my clothes in the wash. Tomorrow we were driving up to Birmingham, then two days afterwards it would be Dublin and then Switzerland to kick off the European tour. Between Birmingham and Dublin was George's birthday, so I wasn't sure when else I would find time to do my laundry. I resolved to buy him a present after our interview.

Danny walked across Finsbury Park, way ahead of me, rushing. He was worried about being late because of my faffing around at the flat. Danny's legs were a lot longer than mine, though, so I was a few paces behind already. The clouds were out but small patches of sun were shining through. I pulled my sunglasses down over my face, watching the back of his brown corduroy jacket get further away. I wasn't bothered about when we got to the cafe to talk to Julian. Danny turned around, walking backwards and urging me to hurry up.

We got to the tube station and I patted my pockets down, looking for my Oyster card. Danny watched me in exasperation, checking his watch.

"Fuck me, will you fucking hurry up?" he complained, glancing over his shoulder almost as if to check the station was still there.

"Yeah, one sec. It's here somewhere, I swear. Unless I left it at the flat..." I trailed off. Danny's face dropped in despair. "Oh, wait, found it," I announced, producing it from my bag.

"You are a fucking nightmare," Danny said simply, before turning around and striding away again. I grinned to myself, then followed.

We were due to meet Julian on in a nice, relatively quiet little cafe on The Angel. To Danny's ultimate frustration we were ten minutes late, so as retribution I paid for our coffee and we sat down at the table Julian was sat at.

"Where are the other two?" he asked immediately, his blue eyes analysing us.

"They couldn't make it, they said they'll go with whatever we decide," Danny explained, and Julian sucked on his teeth.

"So they're hungover?"

"Most probably."

"Right." Julian turned to me with a still expression and a steely gaze. He tapped his pen on the table top. "I hear that you and Kirsten were approached for an interview in Glasgow. Would that be correct?" he asked me. I looked down at my coffee, feeling a little bit like a child being told off at school.

"Err... Yeah we were," I replied vaguely. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I elected to ignore it.

"Apparently you were both useless," he continued.

"We were both drunk," I reasoned, but was cut off.

"You wasted a good press opportunity," Julian scolded. "I don't want that happening again, okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," I agreed, definitely feeling like I was in the headmasters office. Julian nodded curtly, and I took it as a sign that that conversation was done.

"What did you want to talk about?" Danny questioned him.

"The single release. I'm pushing it back."

"What?" I asked, confused as to why on earth Julian would want to hold the release.

"Hear me out," he countered. "I want to push Carousel as the single still, and save Modern Man for the album. One Thirty/6AM can be the b-side, and most importantly I suggest you perform those songs at Coachella before the release."

I considered his words. The initial plan was to release the single two weeks before Coachella, a date now fast approaching, and then hope that the release would draw people in to see us live. Julian's new plan made sense, though. People would see us at Coachella and then check us out just as the single dropped. I glanced at Danny, wanting to know what he thought. He looked contemplative, not willingly giving anything away while he thought it over. After a long pause, he spoke.

"If (Y/n) is happy with it then I don't see a problem," he announced, and both men turned to me.

"I suppose we're pushing the release back then."

After that and a quick discussion about the tour dates we wrapped things up early, so I had time to drag Danny around the shops before we were due to go to our interview. We went down to Shoreditch because the studio we were supposed to be filmed in was there and honestly it was a nice place to shop with all the vintage markets and such.

Danny didn't really mind going shopping with me, he never had. It was a stereotype bloke thing to hate shopping, but he tended to spend longer in shops than I did, looking at everything while my attention wandered to the next destination. We wandered through the stands, browsing records and clothes. A man offered me a 'special discount' on his perfume because of my 'lovely smile'.

I had absolutely no idea what to get George for his birthday. There seemed to be obvious options, like weed stuff or drum stuff, but that seemed unoriginal and to be honest he had everything he needed. Danny had picked out a particularly nice wine, and as we walked down some steps into a basement shop I almost scoffed at him with his sky blue trousers and bright shirt, sunglasses down over his eyes and looking particularly French and aloof with the bottle in his hand. In his other hand he held a paper bag with a few clothes he'd bought already.

I browsed the rails and shelves, conscious of time running out. There was a couple of things I thought were cool, but nothing that I knew George would also like. I settled finally on a good quality black shirt covered in red poppies. I could see him wearing it, although I didn't know if it would fit him right.

We began walking back to the studio but as we passed a small stall I hesitated, a rack of postcards having caught my eye. One had stood out to me, although I wasn't sure why.

"Hey, come on," Danny urged, probably sick of waiting for me. I stepped closer, picking up the card to look at it closer.

"Just a minute," I protested. The postcard depicted a painting of a woman in a green dress, knelt and cleaning the blood from the hands of a saint, her head resting tenderly against his stomach as he gazed out the window at what looked like a crowd of celebrating people. I wondered what had drawn me to it in the first place, although I knew what I liked about it on a closer inspection. There was definitely something in the intimacy of it, the troubled look on the saint's face framed by a gold halo. I turned the postcard over, reading the painting's title. St George and Princess Sabra, Dante Gabriel Rosetti. How fitting.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked, reluctantly coming over to see what was keeping me up. I smiled, holding up the postcard.

"A present has got to have a card," I told him, grabbing another few postcards I liked and paying the woman for them. Danny checked his watch again.

"Fuck you, we're gonna be late to this as well."

---

I stood in front of the mirror in my flat, feeling an unusual urge to dress up nicely. It had been George who had texted me when I was at the cafe, asking if the band and I wanted to come around the boys shared apartment for some drinks. I wasn't entirely convinced that I should go out tonight, due to the fact we were all due to go on tour very soon, but it was George and I knew my weaknesses. I pulled the mid-length purple slip over my head, regarding my reflection. I sighed. It was lovely, but it felt too dressy. I took it back off and grabbed some jeans off my bed and pulled a long sleeved stripey t shirt on. I'd already done my makeup, smudgy black eyeliner and mascara that made me feel less bare faced, not that I cared too much.

The interview had gone decently. They set me and Danny up on this strange white settee in front of an entirely white set, contrasting with our colourful clothes. It reminded me of that Yayoi Kusama piece with the white living room where all the visitors put coloured spots everywhere, except in this situation I was the coloured spots, which was a thought I wished I'd saved until after the interview because I functioned better when I wasn't comparing myself to abstracted forms. I supposed the set up would make for a good visual at least, although the white surfaces made me a bit paranoid that I'd accidentally leave some muddy footprints from traipsing around London.

Danny had taken most of the questions with a usual calm wisdom, and I mainly made a fool of myself fidgeting and making crap jokes. I didn't sit still for longer than a minute, so while Danny stayed relaxed, refined and elegant on one side of the sofa, I constantly kept changing my position. At one point the interviewer asked us the standard 'if you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life' question and I said Chillin' Wiv Da Mandem because I'd listened to it on the plane and I couldn't think of anything else, and Danny showed me up by picking Ain't No Sunshine by Bill Withers, which was arguably the greatest song ever written. Later in the interview I'd tried to change my answer but I knew it would be cut because I'd moved to sit on the back of the settee by the time I decided to mention it and it would be impossible to splice it in at the relevant point. Besides that embarrassment, the rest of the interview was pretty unmemorable. Afterwards Danny came back to mine, we had a spliff and he left again.

I checked the time on my phone. It was seven. I wondered if it was cooler for me to be on time or late to the boys' shared flat. I decided to hang up my wet washing before I left, so that if I was late it was because of that and not because I'd chosen to be. It was a vague theory because by choosing to do my laundry I'd already decided I was going to be late, I was just deferring the blame.

---

By the time I'd actually managed to get the tube into East London I was almost an hour later than the late I'd aimed for, and I cursed my own time keeping abilities. I knocked on the door, clutching a bottle of vodka in my other hand. It had been in my freezer, but after my commute it had warmed up a bit. I could hear voices inside. A shadow appeared on the other side of the frosted glass, illuminated by a warm hall light. The door opened and I smiled. George smiled back.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," I apologised, stepping into the hallway and into his warm embrace. He gave me a squeeze.

"Not at all, princess," he assured me, letting me go so I could take my coat off. "Come on in, get a drink," he offered, leading me down the hall and into the kitchen. I could hear the others laughing next door, and it reminded of house parties years ago. I went over to the glasses cupboard, already knowing my way around. George leaned back against the counter next to me, his tattooed arms resting on the work surface. I reached up for a glass, confused as to why they were so ridiculously high up. I supposed George, Ross and Hann were all tall enough for it to make sense. Stretching my arm out above me I pushed myself onto my toes, my t-shirt riding up. I felt George move behind me, his chest against my back as he reached the glass down for me, his fingers brushing mine.

"Fucking stupid place to put glasses," I deflected, ignoring the feeling that stirred when George pressed against me. "Does Matty just have to climb on the counter or does he get you to help him too?" I asked, and George laughed.

"Nah, there's usually some on the lower shelf. Think they've been nicked by the others," he explained. I poured a slosh of vodka into the bottom of my glass, eyeballing what I hoped was a double shot or something roughly near it.

"Got any mix in? I could do neat vodka ten years ago but now my liver wouldn't forgive me for it," I chuckled. George nodded, getting me some cranberry juice.

"I thought you would be drinking wine to be honest," he pointed out, and I shrugged.

"Maybe I just wanted to relive my teenage years. I'm not sure. Remember when me, you and Matty went to that ridiculous party at Kerys Joughin's house?"

"I remember being sick in her garden and Matty getting off with the girl I fancied" George recalled, making me snicker.

"Yeah, okay. Maybe that night didn't go as well as I remembered," I admitted as I sipped on my drink. "I thought it was funny though."

"Probably because I made a fucking idiot of myself. You ended up looking after me." He rubbed his hand over his face, cringing. "I'm sorry about that night by the way."

"What? For getting really drunk and trying to kiss me," I laughed. "G, we were 16, and for the record I probably would have let you if I hadn't just watched you yakking on the pavement." He hid his face in his hands, mortified.

"Why are you trying to relive teenage parties again? I really fucking hope tonight doesn't go like that," he groaned.

"Hopefully it won't, besides, when we were that age it was like you had some insane motivation to be the drunkest person in the room every single time," I reminisced, drumming my fingers on the side of my glass before drinking some more of it.

"At least I didn't take every single stimulant like I had a personal vendetta against sleep," he jabbed, giving me a light elbow. "What kind of 15 year old drinks Buckfast?"

"What kind of man gets found headfirst in a bin?" I retorted.

"It makes for a good story," he maintained, and I was somewhat inclined to agree. I finished my drink and refilled it, moving towards the doorway.

"I better go next door, you coming?” I asked, looking at him over my shoulder. He nodded, pushing himself away from the side. Together we walked into the living room. Leon grinned as I walked in, standing up from his seat on the floor next to the settee and giving me a hug.

“Better late than never, eh?” he joked. I stuck my tongue out at him childishly and he ruffled my hair.

“Hey,” I scolded. “Don’t do that, I’m not a dog.”

“Not a dog, but definitely a bitch,” Kirsten piped up from the sofa where she sat, sandwiched between Danny and Hann. She winked, a big smile stretching across her face.

“Fucking hell, I didn’t come here to get bullied,” I complained.

“Aww, babe, do you want a hug from Matty,” Matty cooed, opening his arms to me from his seat on the sofa. Ross rolled his eyes, moving over to make space for me to sit. I fell down onto the couch next to Matty and he squeezed me into his side before letting me go as he reached to refill his wine glass.

“George, sit down, you’re making me nervous,” I told the drummer, who was still stood in the doorway. “Come on, there’s room. Squidge over Ross,” I instructed, gesturing with my hand. I shuffled towards Matty, allowing George to occupy the space between myself and Ross.

As the drink flowed and joints were passed from hand to hand, the conversation became lighthearted and full of banter. I leaned into George with my legs pulled up onto the seat, knees resting on his thigh and his arm resting along the back of the settee. He toked on the spliff, tipping his head back and exhaling, the passed it to me, his fingertips just brushing over mine. I took a few drags, inhaling the smoke into my nose in a little plume. George’s arm brushed the back of my neck as I leaned into the cushions and the contact made my skin flush hot in response. I felt pretty crossfaded, the vodka and weed had hit me both in equal measures. Matty stood up from his seat quickly like a jolt of electric had run through him, grinning widely.

“Everybody,” he announced, swinging his wine glass round precariously to gesture the group. “Let’s do smash or pass.” I groaned.

“Fucksake, Matty. Can’t we just talk like adults?” I protested, but he shook his head.

“Nah, boring. Smash or pass, except it’s people in the group. Right, Kirsten, would you smash or pass… Hann?” Matty asked her, steamrollering ahead with his plan. She giggled, tilting her head to the side as she looked over the sandy haired man next to her. Trust Kirsten to indulge in the game.

"Adam would get it, to be fair," she admitted coyly, and Hann looked slightly awestruck for a moment, making me chuckle. "Right, my turn to pick. (Y/n), thoughts on Matty?"

"He's alright," I replied facetiously, making her scoff at me.

"That's not the game and you know it," she pushed, and I could see her motivation clearly. She was trying to set me up with him. I glanced at Matty, who was stood waiting for my response with a self assured smirk.

"I'd pass," I said simply, unable to hide my smile when Matty's face dropped, having been ready for me to sing his praises. He looked at me in disbelief.

"You're such a liar, babe," he joked, already teasing.

"You're just not my type," I told him stubbornly. He took a couple of steps closer to the sofa and bent down over me, his dark eyes imploring as he grinned, waiting for me to admit. His arm rested on the back next to George's hand, trapping me in. I set my gaze, meeting him with cool indifference, and he leaned down further, trapping my lips in an unexpected kiss and catching me totally off guard. As his tongue worked to part my lips I heard Kirsten squeal in excitement and suddenly became conscious of our audience and rested a hand on his face, pushing him away. He looked at me smugly.

"The truth?" he prompted, and I sighed exasperatedly.

"You're mental. If it matters that much to you then fine, smash," I relented.

"Thought so," he responded audaciously, and I heard Ross audibly groan.

"You're an absolute pest, mate," he told his curly haired friend, who just shrugged and turned his attention to George.

"George, fuck, marry, kill: me, (Y/n), Kirsten," Matty quizzed. I turned my head to look at George, who had a kind of pained expression.

"I thought we were doing smash or pass," he protested.

"I changed my mind," explained Matty. "Now, fuck, marry, kill?"

"Fuck (Y/n)," responded George with surprising conviction. Apparently it hadn't taken that much time for him to make his decision there. "Then I have to marry Matty, because we pretty much spend every second together anyway. I'm sorry Kirsten, I'm going have to kill you," he said apologetically. She tutted in mock offense.

"Aww, Georgie" cooed Matty. "Is this a proposal? Mum always said we were gonna tie the knot one day." George rolled his eyes at the singer's antics, unable to hide his smile.

"Yeah, Matty, that's how the game works. I'll give you the ring after I've shot Kirsten and fucked (Y/n)" he joked, making my eyes widen slightly. He caught my eye and winked.

"(Y/n)," said Kirsten from the other sofa, making me look at her. "Your turn. Fuck, marry, kill: George, Danny and Ross?" I glowered at her, but she didn't seem to notice.

"That's not fair, I don't wanna kill Ross, I love him," I complained.

"Great, thanks," said Ross sarcastically, making the group laugh.

"I've obviously got to marry Danny because he's my best mate and also a domestic god," I explained. Danny blew me a kiss across the room which I pretended to catch and pocket. "Then fuck George and kill Ross." I turned to Ross. "I'm sorry darling."

"Ha, Mopsy. You and George said each other for fuck, that means you have to do it," teased Leon, a childish grin on his face. I scoffed, hoping the heat on my face wasn't visible.

"What? And if two people say each other for kill they have to fight to the death?" I rebutted, making him laugh. "I swear to god Leon, can we not play one game without you writing your own rules?"

"Do you remember trying to play Birdseye potato waffles with Leon?" recalled Danny. "You added the rule that you couldn't say a food containing gluten, it was fucking impossible."

"Birdseye potato waffles are waffley versatile they go with;" began Matty, and I shot him a look.

"Gammon," shouted Leon.

"Curry," went Matty.

"Come on, we aren't seriously-" I protested, cut off by George.

"Rice Krispies," he added in, and I looked at him betrayed.

"Tomatoes," said Kirsten. I sighed, giving in.

"Baklawa."

"That's got gluten in!" Leon interrupted.

"We're not playing the gluten version!" I argued back.

"Keep going! Keep going!" Matty prompted, insistent on persisting.

"Sourdough," Danny piped up.

"That's also got gluten," said Leon, causing the rest of the group to go mental at him.

---

A few hours later everyone was quite drunk, and after doing some silly dancing with Matty I ended up sat at the table in the garden with Hann discussing cameras and tours and everything in between. He'd brought his new Leica out from his room for me to look at properly.

I lined him up in the view finder and he grinned, holding up the bottle we'd been sharing, and I snapped a photo, the flash lighting him up. I handed him back his camera and he turned the lens round on me.

"Hang on a minute," I stopped him, pulling myself up from my seat and standing on it instead, pulling the hood of the 1975 tour hoodie over my head and lighting my cigarette. It could have belonged to any of the boys but Hann reckoned I'd be cold so he got it for me. "Right, Hann, you're creative director now. What pose am I doing?" I asked him.

"I thought it was going to be a bit more candid to be honest," he replied, and I shook my head.

"Nah, not my style."

"Just stay like that then for a second," he instructed, and I toked my cigarette and looked down the camera, trying not to blink when the light hit my eyes. He took another couple photos of me doing silly poses, then snapped a sneaky one after I had sat down, as I looked back over at the doors to the bottom floor of the flat. Hann turned the camera screen to me, showing me the image.

"That's actually pretty cool, send me them please," I told him, surprised that I actually liked how I looked in the photograph.

"Of course I will. I can go in and put them on my computer now if you like. It's fucking freezing out here," he said, pulling his jacket around himself.

"It's no rush. You can go back in, you know. I'm just going to finish this cig," I smiled, and he nodded, standing from his seat.

"Don't freeze to death out here then," he warned me, bending down to give me a quick hug.

"Don't worry, I'll be in in a minute."

Hann went inside and I finished my cigarette before heading in after him. I walked towards to kitchen to get another drink, but something made me stop outside the door as I heard Matty and Ross' voices.

"Yeah mate, it's mental. She just fucks and fucks and fucks, and her tits are just amazing," I heard Matty tell Ross, allowing myself to eavesdrop in the doorway. "It's great as well, because it's totally no strings, no feelings. It's just mindless sex," he continued, sounding proud. My heart dropped, frustration rising up inside of me, hoping to all hell he wasn't talking about me.

"Who is she then?" Ross asked, and I listened as closely as I could, my breath held. Please, Matty, I thought, please be talking about someone else.

"Shouldn't really tell you mate."

"Fucking hell, man. It's someone we know isn't it?" Ross figured out. Matty's next words were to quiet for me too decipher, and I couldn't see his face so I didn't know what was going on. I tried to tune into it, but the next words Ross said I heard fully well, and they made my blood boil. “It’s (y/n)? Fucking hell man, how did you swing that?”

I stood in shock, hovering behind the door. I didn’t want anyone to know I was sleeping with Matty, and he was fully aware of that. I didn’t want anyone to think there were any feelings between us, or that either of us were off limits, or that maybe somehow that was how I managed to get us on this tour. He'd already pushed things with the kiss tonight. The band had worked hard to get here. If Matty was telling Ross, then I had no idea who else he’d shared the same sordid details with. For the first time since Matty and I had started having sex, I felt a deep shame in the pit of my stomach.

I stepped around the door into the room, furious, but keeping it suppressed. Matty immediately looked mortified when he saw me, clearly having been caught out. His mouth opened and shut a couple of times, as though he was some kind of guilty goldfish. He was trying to think of something to say, but he wasn’t certain how much I’d heard. He looked at Ross as if for help, but Ross stood there next to him, looking slightly ashamed. I glared at both of them, walking round the table to them and taking the vodka bottle they were quite clearly drinking from.

“Do you mind if I take this?” I asked, my voice laced.

“Nah not at all,” Ross replied, giving me an apologetic look, which I ignored. I was too angry to forgive him just yet, although I knew deep down he hadn’t really done anything wrong. Matty, on the other hand, was watching me like a sad puppy. I almost scowled, ready to bite his head off, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction, so instead I just kept glaring, trying to express my opinion through eye contact alone. It seemed to be working. Matty almost cowered away from me. I took a swig from the bottle, drunk enough to not mind the burning taste. Matty looked almost wounded, and that made me even more furious at him. I turned and left the kitchen, and when I was in the corridor I could hear Ross speak to him, and I could almost see the self-pitying expression on his face.

"Go after her," Ross hissed, and I quickly walked down the corridor, hoping Matty would ignore his friends advice. I took the second door, going into the bathroom. Head swimming with booze, I opened the window a crack and sat myself in the bath, dragging one fag out of the packet in the pocket of my jeans and sparking it, taking two desperate drags before I had another swig of vodka. My heart was thundering in my chest, pounding in my ears like it did before I went on stage. I took three deep breaths and then I couldn't hold back the tears spilling out of my eyes, feeling myself choke up, the horrible kind of crying which made my throat ache. I ran my fingers in a square shape on my thigh, counting all four sides and inhaling with each line until I could breathe properly again. It unsettled me, how quickly things had got out of hand. I heard Matty's footsteps along the hall, hoping to god he would just go back to the living room without seeing me.

I had no such luck. The door pushed open with a creak and I regretted not locking it. Matty stood in the doorway, giving me a guilty look. I wiped under my eyes with the back of my wrist unsubtly, sniffing.

"Babe," he began. I cut him off.

"Piss off, Matty," I spat, taking another drag of my cigarette and avoiding looking at him.

"No," he replied obstinately. He moved to sit on the toilet seat, next to the bathtub, leaning on his elbows with his face turned in my direction. "You shouldn't drink all that vodka, even if you are mad at me. It'll make you sick."

I turned to him, making direct eye contact and a taking a few gulps from the bottle out of spite. It made my eyes brim with tears again, but I held a good poker face, simply driven by proving a point. He sighed, putting his head in his hand, and I resented him being exasperated by me. He ran his fingers through his hair.

"You know that I'm sorry, right?" he said, and I bristled at his not-apology.

"You don't seem it," I responded finally. "Who did you tell?"

"Just Ross, what about you?" he asked me back. I couldn't believe his audacity.

"Fucking no one," I snapped, and he raised his hands in indignation. "I said I didn't want you to tell anyone."

"Why though? I thought we were fucking because you're distracting yourself with sex and physical affection so you can continue to pretend that love doesn't exist and distance yourself from your emotions."

I looked at him in shock, wondering why he felt the need to psychoanalyse me so bluntly.

"You don't know anything about me, Matty," I mumbled, feeling vulnerable.

"Bollocks, I've known you since we were both in high school back in Wilmslow. Anyway, it's not like we've been hiding it," he reasoned.

"People finding out and you telling them in explicit detail are two different things," I hissed back. I took another big swig of alcohol, leaning my head back against the porcelain. We weren't getting anywhere with this conversation drunk. He knew he'd done something wrong, that's why he was so defensive. I pulled myself up by the metal handles on the inside of the bath, stubbing my cigarette out on the side of the bath and keeping the bottle clutched in my left hand. My head spun slightly and I wobbled a little as I stepped out of the tub. "I'm going next door," I told him.

Hann, Ross, Kirsten, Leon and Danny were all sat around the coffee table. Danny smiled when he saw me, pulling me down to the seat next to him on the sofa and putting his arm around my shoulders. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and I couldn't help but grin. He was quite drunk, I could tell, but I squeezed him back.

"She's back!" he announced, just loud enough to be heard over the music. "This is my best friend everyone, not sure if you know her," he continued to tease me as I shied from the attention. He continued, ruffling my hair and making me smile at his enthusiasm. Drunk Danny was a different person. "We have been friends since we were 12 years old, and now," he checked his watch, making everyone laugh. "15 years later we're here." I gave him a grateful hug and a kiss on the cheek in return for his.

Matty came in a couple of minutes later, and sitting awkwardly in the group became a bit too awkward for me. I excused myself to get another drink, and as I stood up from the sofa my head swam again, heart racing and almost constricting in my chest as I left the room. I went over to the sink, wanting to rid myself of the too drunk, queasy feeling. I leaned over the sink and after retching once my stomach emptied into the basin. I spluttered a couple of times, then lifted my head, jumping when I saw Ross looking at me alarmed. I realise how the situation might have looked.

"Don't worry, I'm not having a mental breakdown," I clarified, and he looked at me concerned. "This was tactical. I’m not actually that drunk, my stomach was just protesting the neat vodka," I tried to explain. He didn't look convinced, but moved on.

"I'm sorry about before, I know you were upset," he began, his apology already better than Matty's. I shook my head, stopping him.

"You're alright Ross, I don't mind. You didn't do anything, and besides, I trust you," I reassured him, and he gave me a thankful nod.

"How long has that been going on for?" he asked, out of genuine curiousity.

"On and off since 2013," I told him honestly, and he spluttered in surprise.

"Fuck, really? That long?"

"Yeah, now Ross?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep your mouth shut about it," I instructed him sternly. He crossed his heart and nodded solemnly, making me smile. "I'm sorry for killing you in fuck, marry, kill," I added, and he chuckled.

"It's okay. You're forgiven," he replied.

"I wish it was fuck, marry, hug instead," I continued.

"You can have a hug now if you want," he offered, and I nodded, stepping into his open arms for a big Ross squeeze. I tried not to let my emotions overcome me again.

"Thanks Ross, is George about? I don't wanna bother him."

"He's in his room probably, you won't bother him," Ross told me and I nodded. Ross gave me another squeeze and left to join the others and I walked down the corridor to George's room.

I knocked on George’s door. It was impossible to sit with Matty and the others. I was angry still, but that had subsided slightly after talking to Ross, just leaving me embarrassed and feeling quite betrayed. There was no response, so cautiously I pushed open the door, hoping he was awake still.

He looked up when I came in. He was sat in the dark, almost, his face lit up by his laptop screen and a spliff in his hand. He placed it in his mouth as he pulled his headphones down so they sat around his neck. He was sat on top of the duvet, wearing just a t-shirt and boxers, laptop balanced on his lap. I could see the Apple logo glowing on the back of it.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"Hey," he replied, removing the spliff from his mouth and resting it on the edge of the ashtray. "What's up?"

"Sorry, am I bothering you?" I asked sheepishly. He smiled at something to himself, shaking his head.

"No, not at all. Well, I was messing around on Logic but to be honest I got distracted watching YouTube videos," he admitted, and I smiled a little wanly. I hovered in the doorway for a moment, then ultimately decided to step in the room, shutting the door gently behind me.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't handle being downstairs, I..." I hesitated, unsure of how to explain myself. "I'm in a bit of a mood. You know. Men."

George chuckled.

"Yeah. Men," he agreed. He shuffled over, patting the bed beside him. "Come have a seat, princess. You can tell me all about it." He paused, seeing my expression. "Or we can just have a spliff," he offered instead. I nodded.

"Sounds good," I told him.

"I can put some trackies or something on if you want," he suggested, but I shook my head.

"Nah, it's hot in here, and you look comfy," I responded.

"It's a bit weird if only one of us is wearing trousers though." I rolled my eyes dramatically.

"Fine. Fuck it. Underpants party," I announced, unbuttoning my jeans and taking them off clumsily. I was drunker than I thought, and George was in a fit of giggles as my feet kept getting caught in the denim and tripping me up. I pulled them off with a flourish, dropping them to the floor and plonking myself on the bed next to him as he recovered from his hysterics, wiping the water from his eye.

"You're a riot, princess." He reached over to his side table, turning on the lamp so we weren't sat in the total darkness, then passed me the ashtray with the spliff resting in it. "There, have that. I'm pretty baked already."

"Cheers," I said, taking it from him. "Is there a lighter there? I'd use mine but..."

"But what?"

"It's in my jeans," I confessed, and he started laughing again, so infectiously that I joined in. Eventually, I regained composure, lighting the spliff again and taking a few long drags. George watched me do so.

"What's happened with this guy then?" he asked, looking at me condolingly.

"Oh, well, it's nothing serious," I immediately clarified, hoping George wasn't rapidly slipping into the imaginary 'friend zone'. "I just can't be arsed with it right now. Put me in a bit of a bad mood you know."

"Aww, princess," he sympathized. I rested my head on his shoulder and he pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.

"Everyone probably thinks that we're fucking," I stated, aware that by disappearing to George's room I probably hadn't done myself any favours.

"We aren't though, are we?" he replied. I chuckled slightly.

"Not the last time I checked," I joked, sitting up again. George looped his arm over my shoulder so that we were both more comfortable, leaning against the headboard. His thumb ran little circles on my shoulder as I toked the spliff.

"They'd know if we were fucking. They'd hear," George pointed out, and I wondered if he knew how fucking dirty those words sounded in his low timbre. He shifted his weight, seemingly oblivious.

"You're quite confident," I teased, baiting him slightly.

"You wouldn't be quiet if I was fucking you," he said, making my breath hitch. I turned my head to look at him but he appeared casual despite his lewd words, looking more sleepy than horny. He looked back at me through half lidded eyes. I glanced at his lips momentarily, and there was a tension palpable in the air, but I was drunk and high and I didn't know how much of the moment was conceptualised by my inebriated mind. I looked away again, picking at a hangnail before placing the spliff between my lips once more.

"I believe you," I responded, finally, trying desperately to hide the reaction he had caused in me. I checked the time on my phone. "It's your birthday tomorrow," I noted, and George nodded.

"26. Not far off your 27th either, then it's Matty's," he added.

"Fuck, yeah. I'm gonna have to go visit my parents if we're going back to Manchester for your birthday," I sighed, then paused. "God, that's really ungrateful. I love them, I really do. It's just... Well, yeah. I'm a twat."

"You're not a twat," George reassured me. "Your parents are lovely, but I get why it's not that simple." I smiled, glad he didn't think I was being ridiculous.

"They're brilliant people, just not always the best parents. I don't resent them for it. They do amazing things, and I've turned out fine in the end," I admitted.

"More than fine," George complimented, and I grinned.

"You're such a charmer, G."

---

I didn't remember falling asleep but when I woke up I was facing away from George. His arms were wrapped around me, holding me against his chest with his head buried in the crook of my neck. At first I tensed up, but the feeling of closeness and security and the reassuring warmth radiating off him made me relax into his embrace. I wondered what it would be like to wake up this way every day before I caught myself.

Matty’s words from last night lingered in my mind. Was I using sex as a distraction? My mind filled with self doubt. I knew deep down why I was so scared of getting closer to George. It was the fear that we might start dating and then he’d gradually realise that I wasn’t as great as he hoped I was. George held more risk than any other person I had fancied in my life, because if George stopped liking me then I didn’t know if I could cope. He was my friend. We were close. We were around each other all the time.

We must have talked for hours last night. The ashtray by the side of the bed was full of joint roaches, and I remembered laughing so hard my cheeks hurt. I checked the time and realised that this might be the longest I'd slept through in weeks. Despite my urge to flee as fast as possible, I gave into the desire to sink back into George’s embrace, letting my eyes flutter shut again and enjoying his soft, warm breath on the back of my neck. Without even realising I slipped into sleep again, comfortable and content.

I’m not sure how much longer we slept for, but we both woke up when Hann burst through the door, not bothering to knock.

“George, I need to borrow your laptop charger… Oh, hello (Y/n),” he said, noticing me. I sat upright, rolling my shoulders to loosen the stiffness in them.

“Morning Hann,” I smiled.

“I didn’t think you were still here, I can do those photos for you this morning if you want,” he offered.

“Yeah, thank you. You’re a sweetheart,” I told him sincerely, and he smiled.

"Anything for you." He turned his attention to the sleepy drummer, addressing him less politely. "George! Laptop charger, where is it?"

George groaned, rolling himself over and resting his hand across my bare leg, not opening his eyes.

"By the bed," he murmured, pointing vaguely across at the floor. Hann retrieved it, stopping to give George a punch through the duvet before he returned to the doorway.

“Get up you lazy lump, (Y/n) is here,” he instructed, making me laugh.

“Piss off Hann, we’ll be up soon,” George grumbled into the pillow, rubbing his thumb in a circle on my thigh absentmindedly.

“Kettle’s on downstairs, don’t wait on him,” Hann told me firmly, and I nodded.

“It’s alright, mum. I’ll be down for brekkie,” I teased, and Hann took that as confirmation enough to go. I placed my hand over George’s. “G, you’re gonna have to let me go,” I told him, and he ignored me, instead just moving closer and resting his head on top of my thighs as if to prove a point. I ran my fingers through his hair for a minute, happy with how content he looked. “Georgie, I’ll roll a spliff if you get up,” I bartered, and I was surprised when he didn’t immediately sit up, but even after his hesitation between being comfy and weed, his heart won and he shifted himself upright. He stretched his arms out, groaning, and yawned.

"What time is it?" he asked me, and I showed him my phone screen displaying the time. "It's not even quarter to ten yet?" George pointed out, baffled.

"Yeah, well we have Birmingham today, then Wilmslow, then tour. It's a better sleep routine, I guess."

"Yeah, you'd know everything about a better sleep routine,” he ribbed.

“How’d you know that?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Because every time I wake up on the bus, you’re still awake having a spliff,” he shared, and I chuckled.

“Not much room for you in those bunks, is there?” I teased, making him roll his eyes in mock exasperation.

“I get it, I’m tall.”

“Ever think about becoming a basketball player?”

“Funny,” he responded dryly. “You making a spliff then?”

“Fucking hell, give me a minute.” I pulled myself up and out of bed, stripping the t-shirt I’d slept off in an overtly provocative way and pretending I didn’t feel George’s gaze across my turned back as I did so. I pulled on the hoodie Hann had given me to wear last night, large as it was, then pulled on my jeans. I turned back to George, raising an eyebrow at him. “Enjoying the view?”

“There’s certainly worse things to wake up to,” he replied cockily, not bothering to hide the fact he’d pretty much been checking me out. My skin burned warmly at the idea.

I rolled the spliff and we both smoked it, with me resting my head against George’s stomach as we lay across the bed. Conversation continued, then lulled into quiet, sleepy companionship driven by the residual tiredness from last night and the fact that whatever weed I made the joint from was considerably stronger than I’d expected. As I felt like I was melding into George, I chuckled to myself.

“What?” he asked, curious as to what had amused me.

“Jesus, G. That green was a bit strong,” I grinned, and he laughed as well.

“Yeah, it is a bit, to be fair,” he admitted, absentmindedly running his fingers over my shoulder. “I could murder some breakfast though.”

“Let’s get up then,” I suggested. Neither of us made an effort to move. "George, we can't stay like this forever."

"We can try," he tempted, his touch trailing along my collarbone and brushing my neck. I let my eyes flutter shut, enjoying the feeling. It was a tender and reassuringly intimate gesture. After a moment though, my mind drifted to Hann making coffee in the kitchen and my stoned desire for food. I reluctantly sat up, pulling myself off of George's bed like I had been glued to it. He sighed as I slipped out of his reach.

"Come on, darling," I encouraged breezily, picking up his hand in both of mine and attempting to pull him out of bed with little success. Eventually he caved, pulling himself upright. He got up and pulled on some jeans and changed the t-shirt he’d accidentally fell asleep in. I tried my hardest not to look at his toned body, which was hard because he looked amazing with all his tattoos. Once he was dressed, I came up to him and went on my tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, having to place my hand on the back of his neck to guide him closer. He looked at me in surprise and I smiled, embarrassed.

“What?” he asked, wondering what he had done to earn my affection and why it seemed to amuse me.

“Thank you for everything last night. I really needed cheering up.”

He grinned, pulling me into a gentle hug, which I held for a little longer than normal. We went to the kitchen.

“Coffee?” Adam offered as I walked in. “I sent those photos in an email to you, I thought it would be better quality.”

“Thanks Hann, you absolute angel,” I told him gratefully, accepting the hot drink off him. Matty was sat at the table watching me guiltily. I ignored him, sitting down in the seat across from him and placing my phone on the table. George settled himself next to me. “Where’s Ross got to?”

“He’s in the shower, out in a minute if you want it?” Adam suggested.

“It’s okay, I’ll get one at mine when I grab my stuff.”

Matty stood up from his seat, going to the toaster and filling all four slots with bread. I tried not to watch him too much, still annoyed with him. It wasn’t so much what he’d done, but the way he’d acted afterwards towards me.

“What’s up with you this morning?” George asked him, reaching to poke him in the ribcage from his seat. Matty squirmed out of the way.

“Nothing. The plane,” he lied unconvincingly.

“The plane isn’t till the day after tomorrow,” George pointed out, and Matty bristled.

“Fine, I’m just being existential then,” he covered, giving me another look. I tsked.

“Right,” replied George. Ross walked in, drying his hair with a towel. He smiled when he saw me.

“I take it you stayed, then?” he grinned, looking between me and George. I shot him a warning look.

“Yeah, I got too stoned and fell asleep,” I informed him. George chuckled.

Matty placed a plate of Marmite on toast in front of me; a peace offering. He patted my shoulder and discreetly dropped a note into my lap.

“Brekkie for you, babe.” He picked up his coffee. “I’m going to check some of those fucking emails.”

“That’s weirdly organised for you, Matty,” Hann pointed out. Matty shrugged.

“Got to be done.” He left the room.

I looked down at the plate of food in front of me. Marmite on toast was tour food, so it came at a fitting time. It was also the food that Matty and I ate almost constantly when we were travelling. A shared passion, if you will. It was a very deliberate choice. I fiddled with the note he’d slipped me. The other boys were distracted talking about set up and rigs for the tour. I quietly unfolded the paper. It had been typed on his typewriter.

I’m sorry for being a dickhead, but I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me.

I sighed. The small gestures were admittedly softening my frustration, but I hadn’t forgiven him just yet.

My phone buzzed loudly against the table top, making everyone look round. I lifted it up, checking the name. I declined the call. Not two seconds later it rang again and I sighed, reluctantly standing up.

“I’m sorry, I have to get this,” I explained weakly. George nodded understandingly, although I was sure he didn’t understand, and I stepped out into the hallway, finally bringing the phone to my ear.

“What do you want?” I demanded down the phone, keeping my voice level so that George, Hann and Ross couldn’t accidentally overhear me.

“Fucking hell, (Y/n). Settle down, like. Am I not allowed to call my own sister?”

“Fionn, I can’t handle you anymore. Not since christmas,” I explained through gritted teeth. I heard my brother chuckle infuriatingly. Every time he rang brewed up a new sense of worry and anger and confusion.

“I heard you were coming up to Wilmslow again tomorrow, I’ll meet you there. It would be good to see you again. You’re my sister and I don’t see you enough,” he rattled off his same old spiel calmly, completely ignoring everything I had just said. I took a deep breath.

“Please don’t tell me you’re coming because of me.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t ignoring me,” he argued, his tone changing. I tensed the muscles in my hand, attempting to dissuade my increasing frustration with his flippant nature.

“Mum and dad can’t handle this shit any more, Fionn,” I reasoned, but I should have realised that mentioning our parents would be an inflammatory move.

“Oh, darling fucking mum and dad. Jesus, (Y/n), what did they ever do for us?”

“They really aren’t as terrible as you like to convince yourself, Fionn. They’re good people.” I heard him scoff down the phone, then noticed Matty, hovering in the hallway. He watched me with sympathy that I resented. “Matty, piss off,” I hissed at him. He shook his head stubbornly, and I wondered why on earth I was surrounded by obstinate fuckwits.

“Fucking hell, (Y/n). You aren’t still hanging around with that Matty prick are you?” Fionn goaded from the other end of the line. I gestured Matty to leave again with a series of blunt hand gestures, but he just looked at me coolly, refusing.

“Yes, I’m still hanging around with that Matty prick. He won’t fucking piss off,” I emphasised, shooting him a look which he ignored again. “You are okay though, Fionn, right?”

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow about it, yeah?”

“No, you can speak to me now. Don’t fucking go to Cheshire. Tell me you’re fine,” I interrogated, conscious of Matty listening to the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responded finally, and I ignored the agonising urge that told me to push him further on it. I couldn’t spent any more time fretting over him. It was doing me in.

“Then we have no reason to meet, so don’t fucking bother mum and dad again.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sis,” he replied in a tone in which I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He definitely wasn't sober. Before I had time to re-emphasise that he mustn’t go back to Cheshire, he’d hung up on me. I glanced at my phone screen in disbelief at his nerve. Anger rose up inside of me I let out a frustrated groan.

“You alright?” asked Matty, still hovering.

“I told you to piss off,” I snapped. He came closer to me, placing a hand on my arm.

“Yeah, and I ignored you because you look like you could do with some help.”

“It’s just my dickhead brother doing what he normally does. You know Fionn, he’s a prick.”

“He’s…” Matty paused, choosing his words. “He’s your brother.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” I sighed. “I wish he’d go to therapy or something, he needs it.”

“Get him to go,” Matty suggested, and I shook my head.

“He can’t afford it, and neither can I with the flat in London.”

“I can afford it.”

“Matty,” I warned him sternly. “Don’t you dare.”

“The money is just sitting there,” he protested, and I pulled a face.

“I don’t need you to pay for my stupid brother’s therapy. I just… I just need you to let me vent my frustrations,” I told him. To my relief he nodded an understanding. He pulled me into a hug, and I let him. “I still haven’t forgiven you for last night,” I pointed out as he released me.

“I’m sorry, I was a total twat,” he replied honestly.

“Yeah, you were.”

“But we can move past it?” he added, hopefully.

“I’m sure we can.”

#Spotify #george daniel x reader #george daniel x reader x matty healy #george daniel #matty healy #slush puppy fic #the 1975 fic #the 1975

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 3 years ago

Text

Blood in the Water [Chapter One] At Its Source [Leon S. Kennedy]

The hospital’s LED lights came to life, panting the walls in flickering hues of red as a woman in a stained lab coat rushed down a narrow corridor with a preteen in her arms. It was a nightmare. Orderlies scattered like cockroaches towards the exits as the chaos spread around them. And though she did her best to keep the youth ignorant to it, pressing her head down with such a force that she was certain unintentionally hurt her, the screams were far too loud; so much so the emergency sirens were but a murmur in comparison.

There was no time to comfort her, not with them lurking around the corner.

With a plan in mind and an exit in sight, the faceless woman tore her ID card from her coat pocket and held it near the scanner on the door. To her horror, the LED light turned red.

“No! Fuck!” she cried. Her stomach knotted in fear.

Rushing to clear the blood from her card, she tried again but was unfortunately denied. A wet gurgle from the opposite end of the hall brought goosebumps to her arms, urging her to peek over her shoulder in a panic; fear of the unknown got the better of her. A musty odor permeated the damp air, growing stronger every wasted second as they ambled closer. Her grip eased as she turned and tussled with the ID scanner, slamming the palm of her hand against the metal door in protest.

“Open … come on open.”

Her heart hammered in her chest. She was certain they were upon her; the stale air made her curl her nose in disgust, but she dared not to face them. Why was her ID card not working? Had she been forsaken? Again and again, she tried. Hot tears blurred her eyes.

Then at last, to her surprise, the LED light turned green.

She shoved open the door and ran through just as a shrill noise pierced her itching ears.

Avery woke with a start and darted her teary eyes around the barren room. Where was she? It took her a moment to recognize her bedroom; the plain walls inside her unit that her landlord insisted she not paint eased her fear. She had a nightmare; another one. They were beginning to be a constant nuisance for her, so much so her therapist was having trouble pinpointing what may be causing them. Hell, she wasn’t sure either. But one thing was certain; the same two people – the faceless woman and the preteen – were always present in them.

Who were they? Avery didn’t know, but her therapist theorized that each was a version of herself, the guardian, and her innocence. She needed to know what that meant. Was a part of her missing? Her childhood was a blur, all but the illness. And what were they running from? Perhaps the darkness clouded her thoughts, threatening to devour her forgotten memories. She grunted in annoyance, hearing the constant shrill beep of her bracelet echo around the room. It was time for her medicine.

Avery shut off the alarm and got out of bed. Ambling over to her closet, she picked out a cute blouse and a pair of dark jeans, taking them into the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom. After using the toilet and getting dressed, she stood in front of the sink and looked at her image in the mirror. She looked as tired as she felt; yesterday’s eyeliner was smudged making her eyes appear sunken and lifeless. Avery sighed and washed her face, then walked back into her bedroom feeling a little less tired.

Like clockwork, her watch went off again to remind her to take her medicine. She picked up the plastic bottle, reading the label on the front; Deferasirox then took out a tablet and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Avery wasn’t sure the extent of her disorder, but she had inherited Thalassemia from her mother and had to take Deferasirox to treat chronic iron overload. She wasn’t dependent on blood transfusions, so that was a plus.

As it dissolved, Avery messaged her therapist and told him about her dream. She didn’t expect a text from him for a while, so she drank her water and left her house, purse in tow as her shift was soon to start.

Costa Prisma in northern Basalto Mexico was beautiful in the spring. Avery had moved to the seaside town from Nebraska in 2006 when her employers transferred her; that was four years ago. So far, she loved it. The residence was nice and the money she earned paid enough for her to rent a large apartment near the water. She lived alone, but she preferred it that way.

Driving her Chevrolet Cobalt across town, past the whitewashed buildings, she took a smooth gravel road down to the base of a manmade ravine. A sign in Spanish read: BioVerse Research Facility; quarry ahead, urging those who were trespassers to turn around at the guard booth.

Avery took out her laminated pass and stopped behind the crossing barrier as the guard, Humberto came out of the booth. It was a warm morning, so his white uniform showed signs of sweat stains beneath the arms as he waved at her.

“Buenos días, Miss Andersen,” he greeted.

“Morning,” Avery retorted.

She showed him the pass as a precaution and waved to him as she drove ahead once the barrier was lifted. Avery parked her car at the foot of the valley in a crowded lot where the facility sat; BioVerse. As far as she knew it was a privately owned building with three departments and over seventy rooms, dedicated to the study of biology.

Avery began working with BioVerse in 1999 as an intern after she graduated with a bachelor’s degree in wildlife conservation. Then in 2005 she got her master’s degree and began her career as a Zoologist. The company was nice enough to allow her a chance to work for them, but in doing so, she had to transfer to their sister facility in Mexico. It was an opportunity Avery could not pass up, the opportunity of a lifetime.

Breathing in the fresh warm air, Avery peered over at the rock quarry at the far side of the facility. It had been abandoned in 2000 when BioVerse bought the land, she was told. But before that, the miners of Basalto cultivated the basalt prisms, tall columns of rock that decorated the walls of the ravine outside Costa Prisma; it’s where the state and town got its name. The lake at its base was claimed to be over twenty meters deep and spread as far as the next town. Avery often dreamed of taking a dip in it; the water was so clear, but there was far too much work to do.

She entered the building and passed through the open lobby, waving to Brooke behind the reception desk as she entered the elevator. But before the doors closed, she heard a shout, and a familiar woman came racing towards her in a rush to get on board. Avery held the door for her, laughing as the said woman clung to the bars inside the cart trying to catch her breath.

“Thank you for that,” Sophie mentioned.

Her West Country accent was thick with exhaustion.

“It was no problem,” Avery retorted.

Sophie straightened out her lab coat and pressed the button for the second floor; the microbiology department – she was a novice geneticist, but BioVerse integrated their departments. To show her appreciation she also pressed the button for the third floor as well.

“So I don’t forget,” she started. “Javier asked me to come up and collect a sample from Xolo today.”

Avery raised a brow.

“Another one? Javier has been poking at him all week.”

“It’s necessary though. His DNA could help us better understand why he can regrow limbs in a matter of hours. You know how important that is,” Sophia explained.

Avery knew. But poor Xolo couldn’t get a moment’s break.

The doors opened and Sophia walked out onto her floor, turning to look at Avery once again.

“I’ll be up as soon as I grab a syringe.”

Avery shook her head in agreement, sighing as the doors closed. At least she’d have time to feed Xolo before she came.

Once the doors to her department opened, the said woman walked out and hurried to her lab, passing the Herpetology and Entomology centers. Avery opened the door and went inside, grinning as she saw Xolo’s tank on the table. Her little golden albino axolotl sat at the bottom, unaware of the evil that awaited him.

The best part about being a Specialist was that Avery could work with Xolo for however long she wanted. Since she arrived at the facility in Costa Prisma she chose to study axolotls and their environment, getting roped in with the genetics department once Javier took an interest in the regenerative capabilities of her little friend.

Avery walked over to the storage locker and retrieved her lab coat and Xolo’s food from within. Once her ID card was attached to the collar, she stood next to the tank and put in a small handful of blackworms; he loved them but damn did he make a mess.

Hearing a knock at the door, the said woman peered over her shoulder to allow in her guest; most likely Sophie. But as the woman came in Avery felt a tug at her finger and looked down to see that Xolo had bit her, drawing some blood.

Someone is impatient.

It was her fault for leaving her hand in the tank; he thought her fingers were food.

“Oh damn,” Sophie exclaimed. “Your finger is bleeding.”

“It’s fine. Xolo’s teeth are too small to cause me any harm, but sometimes he draws blood,” Avery explained.

She stared at the tiny drop of red at the tip of her finger for a moment, then wiped it on her jeans.

“Perhaps he knows you are going to let me stick him today,” Sophia mentioned.

Avery glanced down into the tank with a frown, watching Xolo eat.

“Against my best wishes little buddy.”

Sophia grinned and leaned against the table as they waited. A thought came to mind and she hummed.

“Did you hear that the mycology department got a new sample in?” she asked.

Avery shook her head. No, she hadn’t.

“It came from someplace in Europe; a new strain of mold I heard. Paisley and her team have been studying it all morning, subjecting it to all sorts of tests,” Sophie explained.

Good for them. Their department needed some motivation. Paisley had been a wreck after the big CEO visit the previous week, having nothing new to show. If it hadn’t been for Xolo and her collaboration with the genetics department, then Avery would have been in the same boat.

“Ready to do this?” the said woman asked.

Sophia shook her head in agreement.

Once Xolo was out of his tank and secure, Sophia drew blood from him. Avery made sure that he was okay before she put him back in the tank, giving him a small pinch of blackworms for his contribution.

As she walked towards the storage locker to put away the axolotl food, listening to Sophia prattle on about her job, a shrill noise permeated her ears. Avery immediately dropped the container with a pained gasp and shoved a finger into her canal, but the noise intensified, so much so that she lost her balance from lightheadedness and fell to her knees. What was going on?

Her body spasmed as she lie on the floor. Was she having a seizure? Avery could feel Sophia’s hands on her, trying to console her, but to no avail. The noise was too loud. Why did Sophia not hear it?

Leaning onto her arms, Avery puked onto the floor. Her stomach was in knots. The last question she asked herself before the world around her faded to black was: is my vomit black?

#leon s. kennedy #resident evil #leon s. kennedy x oc #resident evil fanfiction

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so-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (4)

This part is shorter than I'd like but it felt right to end it here. also trash edits I'm sorry

all parts in the master list

Sleep.

All he wanted to do was fucking sleep.

The medics cleared Matthew and as soon he was back out on the ice, he made damn sure to get revenge on the asshole that had bodied him. He didn’t do it in a form of physical retaliation though, opting instead to rip the puck from the man’s grasp and score the game winning goal.

It wasn’t even a home game but there were enough screaming fans present that they probably could’ve blown the roof off the arena.

The win was incredible, their fourth in a row, but Matthew was tired. Mentally, he was fine, and he didn’t have any serious physical injuries but a hit that hard was going to have anyone feeling incredibly sore and beaten up.

His sights were set on the hard hotel bed he had to share with someone he didn’t particularly like but the guys weren’t having it.

“Chuky! We’re going out tonight!”

“You’re going out tonight,” he corrected, “i’m going to bed.”

“Come on, man, you have to come out! Game winning goal! Let’s drink about it!”

It was the last thing in the world that Matthew wanted to do, but his team wanted him to go and so, reluctantly, he found himself sat at a high top table with a double shot of vodka sitting in front of him.

“Fuck it, I guess, we won!”

He threw the alcohol back like it was water and slammed the shot glass down on the table. He hadn’t eaten much that day, his nutritionist would be pissed if she knew, so the liquor was hitting quicker than normal.

“You want another, chuky?”

“You know I fucking do!”

The boys had gone out to celebrate and you planned to do the same with a few slight differences. Instead of shots in a loud bar, you stopped to grab a bottle of wine before returning to put on your favorite pajamas and hooking your laptop up to the hotel TV to binge the shitty reality show you were currently all about.

Hours passed and as soon as you found the bottom of the bottle of your wine, you were ready to pass out.

“Shit,” you said to the empty hotel room, “need to brush my teeth.”

The amount of wine you’d consumed didn’t hit you until you tried to stand up.

“Fuck,” again to no one, “maybe not.”

Dropping back to the bed and laying there for a minute, you prepared yourself to make the incredibly short trip to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

“You can do it, you’re a good one! You got this!”

Launching your body from the bed, you ran to the bathroom and burst into a fit of giggles as soon as you saw your reflection in the mirror.

“Oh my god! I’m drunk!”

The booming male voice scared the shit out of you, but even in your drunken state, you realized it was Matthew.

“There’s no need to give a girl a fucking heart attack, Chuk!”

You were halfway through brushing your teeth, toothpaste running down your chin, when you exited the bathroom to see him laying spread eagle on the floor beside the bed.

“Who the fuck is Chuk?”

It was hard to understand, and despite your own inebriation, it was obvious he was too far gone.

“You, idiot.”

“Don’t call me that! You are the one that is the idiot!”

It was hard to take him seriously when he was rolling around on the floor in front of you, so it was no surprise that he got offensive when you laughed at him.

“Stop laughing! I’m important!”

“Oh yeah? To who?”

“To the Flames!”

“Who is that?”

“What?!”

He sat up immediately, rocking side to side as he began to explain, “the Flames are my team. I love those guys. We’re going to win a fucking cup!”

There was something so innocent about his drunken rant. Something so innocent and adorable that you wanted to pull his drunk ass into a big hug.

You didn’t though. You knew better. The working relationship between yourself and Matthew was hanging by a thread and the last thing you needed was some drunken bullshit making it that much harder.

“I hope you do win a cup, Matthew.”

“Matthew again,” he whined, “I thought we were past that.”

“Sorry,” you corrected as you hid the smile behind the hand over your face, “I hope you win a cup, Matt.”

“Me too. Fuck!”

He stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his.

“I really want to win this year,” Matthew purred in your ear.

What the fuck was happening? Your body was pressed against Matthew’s hard abs and thighs and chest. You didn’t get along until literally yesterday but here he was wrapping himself around you like you had been lovers for years.

“I know, I want you to win too.”

You knew better than to lean into him. Matthew Tkachuk was someone you’d never gotten along with and were still very much on the fence about but feeling the heat of his body against yours had you questioning fucking everything.

The wine coursing through your system didn’t help.

“Can we cuddle? I just want to sleep and I want to hold someone.”

“Someone?”

It was bold and even though you were drunk you knew it.

“I want to hold you.”

“Okay.”

You fell into bed with Matthew with all the ease in the world. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you as close to him as he could.

It was drunken debauchery and nothing more.

“Holy fucking shit, my head is fucking pounding.”

“Keep it down, asshole, you’re not the only one.”

You didn’t realize you weren’t alone in bed until you felt the weight of an arm wrapped around your waist.

Holy shit. There was no way.

Slowly rolling over, you were met with the face of Matthew Tkachuk. His curls were wild and he could barely open his eyes.

“We both drank a lot. Go back to bed. Late practice today, no game.”

Being in no mood to argue, and also incredibly tired, you took his advice.

Waking up pressed into a beautiful woman wasn’t new to Matthew.

He felt incredibly sluggish and tired but she wasn’t up so he tried his best to settle back into the bed and move as little as he could.

Her body was warm and he found himself pulling her waist closer to his own and enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed together. It wasn’t until she began to wake up that he realized who he was in bed with.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

They had agreed to be kind of friends but there was no way she would continue to honor that deal with his morning wood shoved into her back.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #nhl imagine #Calgary Flames imagine #Tkachuk imagine

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chanandlersstuff · 3 years ago

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Sunrise // P.06

Author’s note: This chapter its short but this shit its about to take off I swear.

Series Masterlist

Daniel wakes up a little hungover and a groan escapes his lips. At some point in the night Max came to talk and they drank their disappointment away. Now he had to meet with the rest of the team to talk about what were the nexts steps, what went wrong and what didn't, things to improve and all that type of things.

He didn't even look at his phone, the battery probably died anyway. Looking at his social media will mess with his mental health and that's something he didn't want right now, but a hot shower and a good breakfast were other things.

After that much needed shower and a little concert on it, he walks into the bedroom with the towel low in his hip, drops of water falling from his curls to his upper body. Humming some song he got dressed, took his fully charged phone, wallet, sunglasses and bag and exited his room. Walking towards the elevator he decided to look at his phone.

The screen lights up and his brows frown in surprise, a notification of ten unread texts from Tes. That's new and a pleasant surprise. Reading it a sonorous laugh escapes his lips. Her imagination amuse him but the last texts were the ones that light up his mood. He was so immersed reading over and over again the texts that he didn't notice who was standing next to him until he talked.

-Who is she?- Max’s voice took him by surprise.

-What?- Play it cool Dan, play it cool.

-It was hard no to notice that big smile on your face and the way you only could see what's on your phone, so I took a peek and I saw the name on top of it. Who is she?- Max looks at him with his eyebrows raised.

Daniel took a deep breath and bit his lips. -A girl I met the day we went to see the children in the clinic.

-She was cheering you up about yesterday?- They stepped into the elevator.

-Yes and no.- Max looks at him confused. -Yes, she cheered me up but she didn't know it because she doesn't know what I do for a living.

-Care to explain?

-It's a little complicated but we are getting to know each other and the topic of work and that kind of thing wasn't brought up.- Max nods, not entirely sure. -I know how it sounds but trust me, Michael said the same thing.

-I didn't say anything.- Max held his hands in his defence.

-I know you and I know what you were going to say.- Daniel said and both of them exited the elevator.

-Ok. I hope that everything goes well. Text me when you get home and we could arrange to do something.- Daniel nod.

-Sure. Good bye and have a safe flight.- They hug and pat their backs.

He sat at his table with his breakfast and took his phone out to answer her. From the corner of his eye he saw some of his team mates coming, so he quickly sent the last text and made a mental note to answer her again after he was done with the meeting.

How many hours God knows later Daniel was at the airport waiting to get on his flight home, after going to the hotel finishing packing and taking a quick nap, the fatigue from yesterday still lingering on his body. The mental note of texting back to Tes was still in the front of his brain but he couldn't decide if he wanted to talk to her in person or keep texting with her. He made a metal list of every pro and con about that. Yes, he was acting like a teenager with his first crush. Yes, he didn't actually know her that well. Yes, he was making a mess in his head ahead of something happening.

Michael by his side can feel that something was on his mind. -Spill it Dan, what's going on?

-I'm deciding if I should invite her on a date or what.- Daniel looked at him and by the look in his eyes Michael noticed that his brain was a mess.

-Why can't you decide?

-I don't really know. I think that I'm self-boycotting or overthinking when I just need to do it and stop paying so much attention and analyzing every step.- Michael looked at how Daniel figured it out on his own.

-So ask her out and see where that takes you.- Daniel nodded and took his phone out.

Michael almost told him that Max told him that he saw him in a better mood than yesterday and all that because a certain girl texted him. But if he does it the plan of Daniel will go down the toilet for overthinking.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo drabble #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #daniel ricciardo f1 #daniel ricciardo fan fiction #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula one fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one one shot #formula one x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #formula 1 x you #f1 x you #daniel ricciardo x oc

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wrasslinimaginesv2 · 4 years ago

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I Knew It (AJ Styles x Reader)

SMUTTY SMUTTY AJ STYLES X READER

Requests are open!

“Fancy seeing you here.” You heard from behind you.

AJ… AJ Styles.

Where does one begin with this man? You secretly adored him. That sweet, sweet southern charm, those ocean blue eyes, and that strong physique. You would be lying if you said he didn’t cross your mind from time to time… or maybe, a little more often than that. It would be a cold day in hell before you showed him that, though… His ego was big enough as is. You were not gonna be one to add to it. You always showed him that he annoyed you beyond belief, and honestly, you were not sure whether he bought it or not. You made him wait for a minute, before you finally turned around to face him, making sure to roll your eyes.

“Can I help you?” You asked him, the annoyance crystal clear in your voice.

“Relax, kitten.” He took a seat next to you. A little too close.

You quickly scooted away from him, creating space between you two.

“Don’t call me that.” You scoffed.

AJ and you had booked a quick weekend getaway at the same resort. You had seen him while you were checking in, much to your surprise. He had been making moves on you here and there, but this coincidence raised your existing suspicions. You couldn’t tell if this was happening on purpose or if it was truly coincidence. Regardless, he was being a pain in your butt this whole trip, or so he thought.

“Darlin, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“Yeah, I’m aware… old man.” You nodded, studying his face. “And what’s that supposed to mean, anyways?” You added.

You were only 22. While you liked how much older he was than you, you’d never admit it to him. Something about an older man...especially one like AJ. The experience, the charm… he could teach you so many things. You didn’t like the younger, immature men. Never did.

“Old man?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows as a small chuckle escaped his lips.

“Yeah, old man. What, you’re like, 21 years older than me?” You shook your head, still wondering what he meant by not being born yesterday.

“How do you know exactly how old I am, Y/N?” He smirked, locking eyes with you.

“I… we work together, AJ. People talk. You didn’t know?” You countered, heat flooding your face as you looked back into his eyes.

It was dark now. You two were sitting on a bench by the resort pool. There was a nice breeze, one you were able to thoroughly enjoy before he sat down next to you. It definitely wasn’t helping you cool off, now. He made you so nervous, your heart secretly raced everytime he was near you.

“Just curious.” He said simply, scooting closer to you. His thigh was touching yours now. “Let’s give up this act, Y/N. I might be an old man, but I know you like it.” He whispered, his words making your heart beat even faster.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrugged, trying your best to keep your composure. You turned away from him and stared out at the pool, watching the reflections on the still, clear water. You knew he was studying your face. You were hoping you looked as calm as you were pretending to be.

He reached out and grabbed onto your thigh, squeezing it gently.

You reacted quickly, standing up and grabbing your bag.

You didn’t plan on playing these games with him. At least not now, not here.

“I’m going to head to my room, AJ. I have a few things to do tomorrow, I should get some rest.” You tried to convince him, looking down at him. “It was nice talking to you.” You added sarcastically.

You began walking away before he even had time to respond, your heart beating at a million miles per minute. You bit your lip, thinking about his words and implications. You wanted to groan when you heard him following behind you.

You soon reached the elevators to head up to your suite, and not too long after, AJ was waiting for one beside you. The wait for an elevator had never felt so long your entire life.

“Are you just going to bother me this whole trip? I’d love to know.” You asked him once you two were inside the elevator.

“Botherin’?” He questioned.

“Yes, bothering, not leaving me alone. I’m on a trip, you know? I’d like to enjoy some quality time by myself.” Your attitude was evident now.

“I’m just trying to go up to my room, just like you.” He laughed.

You let out a little sigh, wishing you had chosen a room on a lower level.

“But, if you don’t mind, I wanted to ask if I could borrow a few teabags from your room. I drank all of the ones I had, I really don’t want to go ask the front desk. You know, they lag, it takes forever...” He tried to explain, albeit poorly. Yeah, cause AJ gives a fuck about whether or not he has tea tonight.

“I do mind, actually. Call room service.” You rolled your eyes once more tonight as you swiftly exited the elevator. He was hot on your trail, keeping up with your pace.

“C’mon, Y/N. What’s with the attitude? I just want some tea, I’ll wait by the door.”

“You’re so annoying, AJ. Did you know that?” You asked him as you pulled out the room key from your bag, holding it against the doorknob. As soon as you opened the door, he gently pushed you inside and followed suit, shutting the door behind him.

“AJ! Wha-” You squealed, knowing you were in some deep shit when he closed the door behind him. The darkness in the room aided him, making it difficult for you to act fast. How were you gonna push him out now? “You said you were gonna wait out-” You continued, before his large hand covered your mouth.

“I don’t give a fuck about tea, Y/N. But surely, you knew that.” He smirked.

You didn’t know what to say, you simply looked up at him. You grabbed onto his wrist, trying to move his hand away. It didn’t budge, you weren’t expecting it to.

He slowly moved closer to you and as you backed up you were eventually pressed up against the wall.

“Right where I want ya.”

“AJ…” You mumbled into his palm. “I…”

“You what?” He asked, amused. “I wanna know.”

He moved his hand away from your mouth. It was dark and dead silent. You didn’t know what to say, you just felt yourself melting against his hard body, and fast.

“Y/N, if you don’t like it, you can say it.” He told you, right before his warm lips pressed against your neck. He left a trail of wet kisses from right below your ear all the way down to your collarbone.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop.” He whispered, effortlessly lifting your smaller body up off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. You tried to stifle your moans, unsure of whether or not you were going to give into him tonight.

“I can stop…” He reminded you, as he squeezed your ass.

“Oh.” You let out accidentally. You felt him smirk against your neck, the butterflies in your stomach growing rapidly.

Before you knew it he had you on the bed, his hungry kisses covering your chest as he hovered above you.

“I’m..” You whispered, trying your best to form a sentence. “Hm?” He asked, enjoying the horny little mess he had turned you into.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the way he was making you feel. You were in the clouds. Sure, you had been with many different men... and sure, many of them had you in this position, but something about this man was different… all you could think about was having him inside you as soon as possible. You didn’t answer, only tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, eager to touch his body. He obliged and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor. You ran your hand down his strong chest, peeling your eyes away from it for a second only to look at him. He caressed your full bottom lip with his thumb, his eyes fixated on yours. You took the moment to lick his thumb before taking it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. You don’t know what overcame you, what he was doing to your mind and body… You didn’t care anymore. He groaned as he watched you tease him, exciting you even more.

“I knew it.” He whispered, smug. You smiled at him with your eyes, releasing his thumb and placing a small kiss against it. He grabbed onto the front of your tank top, ripping the thin piece of fabric down the middle. Your breasts greeted his hungry eyes, his large hands soon covering them. He squeezed and massaged them as he crashed his lips against yours. You moaned softly, finally getting to taste his sweet lips. “AJ…” You whispered, as your tongue danced with his. After a few minutes he pulled away, pushing you onto your side. As you took the time to catch your breath, you felt his arm wrap around your waist from behind. He pulled you closer to him, your back pressed against his chest as his lips found their way to your neck again.

“You’re a slut, Y/N.” He whispered, sending chills down your spine. You felt him poking your ass, driving you insane. You began to grind in circles against him, earning you a hard slap against the ass. “Ow.” You cried out.

You turned over in his arms, absolutely needing to see his beautiful face.

He looked hungry… and dangerous. And you wanted him to use you.

“Bite me.” You teased, grabbing at him through his pants.

“I thought I was an old man, Y/N…” He whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. You shivered. “Does it turn you on? Does it turn you on to think of an older man getting off on your tight little young body?”

“Please.” You breathed out, pulling on the waistband of his jeans.

“A bunch of bullshit, huh?” He asked you, wrapping his large hand around your throat. “Your stupid little fucking act…”

You gave him a small nod, given his hand was restricting your movement.

“Undress.” He demanded, squeezing your throat slightly tighter before letting you go. You nodded again. You sat up, tossing your ripped tank to the ground, followed by your leggings and panties. He watched you closely as he undressed too, making your stomach flutter. Before you knew it, he had you bent over the bed and was standing behind you.

“You don’t get to cum, Y/N. Not after all the teasing you’ve done. Not after how long you’ve made me wait to fuck you.” He said, followed by a hard spank.

You whimpered, impatiently waiting for him. “Not after wasting my fucking time. You’re just my little fucktoy.” He continued.

You heard him curse under his breath as he slowly slipped inside you, holding onto your hips firmly. You moaned out once he filled you completely, the dull ache finally ceasing. He felt amazing. Warm, thick, full. Like he always belonged there. He was gentle by no means, actually, borderline hurting you. But hurting you so good.

“AJ..” You cried out, turning around slightly to look back at him. He looked so sexy, sweaty, with messy hair. He looked like he was in pure bliss. He grabbed onto a handful of your hair, giving it a gentle tug.

“Who do you belong to?” You heard him ask.

“You, you, AJ.” You whispered, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continued to hit the sweetest spot.

“Fucking whore.” He groaned, giving you another slap on the ass. “So tight…”

He flipped you over onto your back, giving you needy kisses before continuing his sweet assault. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly as you felt yourself growing closer and closer.

“I…” You mumbled against his lips. “I’m gonna-”

He slowed down in response, so much so that he was barely moving.

“No, please.” You begged. “Please…”

“I don’t think you deserve it, baby.” He whispered, looking into your eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to see you lose control… but you’re a bad slut. Do you want to?” He teased, his thumb now rubbing out gentle circles.

Your breath hitched as you felt him touch you, your eyes locked onto his.

“Pretty.” He said simply, picking up the pace again. Your moans became uncontrollable, your eyes squeezing shut.

“Control it.” He warned you, applying even more pressure with his thumb.

“I can’t.” You whimpered, all of it becoming too intense.

He brought his lips down to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers across your whole body. “I’m going to cum inside you.” He whispered, his thrusts becoming sloppier by the minute. “Deep inside you.”

His words were enough to send you over the edge, his name leaving your parted lips. He rested his head against your shoulder, giving you a few more thrusts before you felt his warm release fill you up completely.

“Fuck.” He sighed, slowing down and riding it out as long as he could.

#aj styles #aj styles x reader #aj styles imagine #imagine aj styles #imagine wwe #imagines #wrestling fanfics #wrestling imagines #wwe #wrestling

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kiliinstinct · 4 years ago

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Stood Up - Nalu OneShot

I was inspired yesterday and this came from it. And I mean, super burst of inspiration. Apologies, but I wrote it as soon as the idea entered my head, and it’s not edited. This story was inspired by this post that came across my dash yesterday. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

--- Tag List ---

@phoenix-before-the-flame @pbfanart @cobblepottantrum @yuldragneel @mamabearcat @millennial-star-gazer @caandleworks / @caandlle @kaycha1989 @furidojasutin @eragonsoul @just-another-dream-girl @whatdidyasayiamdaydreaming @dlshieldss @ctay21 @acidrain1698 @lovelyluce @clockworkassassino @celestialwolf24 @unwei @jem-hamster-chan @melissa827 @meilynalu @littlejinxed @moonlitstargazerforever @trollka21 @doginshoe @squeep123 @bitch-stole-my-nutella-again @sonicloudbat @lonleyloser

----

Ten minutes late. While it wasn’t ideal, Lucy could accept it. Rather than place an order for food, she asked for water instead and checked her pocket mirror for the fifth time. Perfect, but the more the overhead radio switched songs, the more she tapped her foot, patience wearing thin. The urge to check the mirror for a sixth and seventh time was rising.

Instead, she sipped her water and checked the time again: twenty minutes.

Where was he?

Paranoia began to set in as she looked around the small, corner restaurant. It wasn’t the most notable of places. A small business off the corner of downtown that only the locals truly appreciated. She had always wanted to try it, finding the dim lights and cramped walls very homely. Dan, her date, had argued at first. He didn’t think such a place was worthy of a girl in her class. ‘A true beauty deserves a beautiful meal!’ He had stated. While this irritated her, Lucy dismissed his words and pointed out that it was her turn to choose the place. He gave in eventually. It was their tenth date. One that was supposed to be special. The time she finally opened the door to her apartment and asked him to join her, if all went well. He’d wanted that after the third date, but-

Lucy felt that a true connection required more time. Trust was earned, after all, and she refused to to be quick to give it. She sighed and took another glance at her phone, lips pulling into a frown when the time ticked to Seven-Thirty. She couldn’t keep waiting like this! Pulling up her contacts, she dialed Dan’s number and waited for it to connect. Her glossy, manicured nails tapped against the table in a rushed staccato.

Were people watching her? No, no, of course not. They had their own dates and families to tend to. There was no way they’d look twice at her. As her phone rang in her ear, the waiter passed again, only to be waved off after refilling her water. The clink of the ice cubes only served to raise her irritation. Why wasn’t he picking up? The voicemail message picked up, Dan’s boisterous voice echoing through as he requested a name and phone number to reach out to. Lucy hung up and struck redial.

It didn’t ring. The start of his voicemail came again and Lucy sniffed, staring wide eyed at the phone in disbelief.

“Did he just… “ Baffled, she listened to the message all the way through, “hit the f-u button?”

Must have been an accident, she reasoned. Sipping her water far too quick, Lucy grimaced from the blast of cold that shit through her brain as her phone dialed out again. And again. Three more times. Voicemail every time. Either he kept sending her to voicemail or his phone had shut off.

Lucy wasn’t sure which reason she liked better.

“Excuse me, Miss, but are you ready to order now? I don’t mean to rush,” The waiter was back again, looking uncomfortable. Lucy stiffened and set her phone aside, trying to remain aloof and calm. “Oh, no, not yet.” She said, waving him off. His blue eyes stared into her own. Pretty, all things considered, but Lucy didn’t miss the look of pity that swam in them. Did he know what was happening? Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, she cleared her throat and tapped the phone, forcing a false smile. “He’s just running late, that’s all. My date should be here soon!”

She hoped her words were true, but the sinking feeling in her gut said otherwise. Her waiter shrugged, telling her to wave him down if she needed anything and shuffled off to the next table. Lucy couldn’t help but follow him for a few seconds, horror setting in when she realized the couple at the next table were staring at her with looks of pity. One even mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ before turning their attention away.

Lucy’s lungs tightened as her ability to breathe became worse. She licked her lips and checked her phone once more, sighing when she read the time. He was late by an hour now. An hour. How long was he expecting her to wait?! “Lucy, grow a spine. If he’s being this late then obviously he-... he isn’t coming and you should take your loss and leave.” The pep talk she muttered did little to make her move. What if she was wrong? What if his phone really did die and he was caught in traffic? What if she left and more people just stared with those pitying gazes? It was becoming harder to breathe and she gulped down the rest of her water, grimacing. She’d have to run to the bathroom the rest of the night with the amount she’d drank , but what else could she do?

She checked her phone again. And facebook. Even twitter. Dan hadn’t posted anywhere. Where WAS he? Did something happen? Maybe she could call a - that’s it! Lucy swiped to her messages, finding the number of Dan’s room mate, Mary.

‘Do you know where Dan is?’ She asked, desperately trying to stay calm rather than allow her overactive imagination to run away with her. Lucy began to rummage through her purse again, withdrawing her small hand mirror and lip gloss to reapply her makeup. If he WAS just held up by traffic, then it would be worth it, right?

Lucy was stunned when her phone buzzed just as the lip applicator touched her skin. Not expecting the fact response, she dropped the gloss and checked the reply that flashed upon her screen. Eyes widened and the phone slipped through her fingers, clattering against the table as it fell to the floor.

Mary’s reply glowed on the screen in big, curious letters, ‘Didn’t you and Dan break up?’

Break up? Since when? They’d spoken earlier about their excitement for their date tonight. She’d even verified the address with him! What was Mary talking about-? Lucy’s fingers shook and she rushed to retrieve her phone, wincing when she caught the slight laughter of a table a few feet from her. Their gazes were pointed, watching her move as her eyes watered. I will not cry!

Lucy wanted to be angry. To let this moment fall into fires of fury and burn away the tears threatening to fall and distract her from the embarrassment that stabbed her. He stood her up. There was no other explanation, was there? Swallowing thickly, she tapped through her phone again, blinking back the waves of shame that pushed to fall. All her messages to Dan were on read, all her calls ignored. Swiping to her friend’s number, she began to type a quick message. ‘Can I stay with you tonight?’

The message sent and lip quivered. She steeled herself for the shameful walk she’d have to take to the exit. Everyone would know. Everyone did know. Even that waiter, with his dark hair covering half his face (and wasn’t he wearing a vest earlier?), was sending her knowing looks. She noticed his hand clenched to a fist as their eyes met and felt a strange wave of appreciation. He felt the fury that refused to consume her. That was nice, at least. She grabbed for her wallet to set a small tip on the table.

So what if she hadn’t ordered anything. He’d been nice. It was the least she could do for wasting his time. Unable to resist the disappointing settling in her bones, Lucy stuffed her things into her bag and slid out of her booth. She wouldn’t cry. Not until she was outside in the sunset with just herself for company.

Lucy didn’t make it a step from her table when a sudden rush of feet and hurried gasp interrupted her thoughts. Heavy footsteps slammed against the floor as a warm voice melted into her ears.

“Shoot, I’m sorry! Traffic was a bitch!” The voice said, sheepishly, “you- you’re not leaving, are you?”

Lucy’s heart stuttered and she blinked: confused. That voice…

It was not Dan.

She lifted her head and felt the words die in her mouth.

While it was not her tall, broad shouldered, brunette of a boyfriend (possibly ex) - it was a man with a smile that made her cheeks warm and eyes that peered into her own as if he could read her mind. A little intense, but she barely noticed the discomfort of his stare, too stunned by the shock of pink hair on his head. A set of barrettes kept his bangs from his face as dark roots shone beneath the lighter colors. Her face burned even hotter when he cleared his throat and Lucy realized she was caught staring. “Uh, I- “ She stammered, looking for a proper response, “I was, actually.”

What else would she be doing? Who was this guy? Her mind and his movements were a whirlwind as he clicked his tongue and ushered her back to her seat. Lucy started to protest, but stared, dubious, when he muttered, “just go with it!” Into her ear.

In seconds, she was back in her seat with her water refilled and the strange guy had sat across from her, lounging in his seat as if he owned the place and hadn’t just sat with a stranger. If Lucy hadn’t been so caught up in her emotions and the oddity of the moment, she may have considered the guy cute, all things considered.

“Listen,” She began again, finally forcing her mouth to work, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding-”

“Shhht!” He hissed, one finger on his lips to silence her. He leaned forward to keep his voice low, “The name’s Natsu. Whoever stood you up is a dick and I’m gonna fix it!” When he was met with silence, he rethought his words and slightly back pedaled, “if you’ll let me that is.”

Realization finally dawned and Lucy’s jaw dropped. Natsu, reading her expression as consent, leaned back in his chair and quickly flagged the waiter down. The looks of pity around the room turned to relief and shame at eavesdropping with many onlookers turning their gazes elsewhere. Lucy felt a weight fall off her chest, now that she was no longer the center of attention. Taking in a deep breath, she marveled at the situation and wondered if it was best to end the farce before it started and leave. The waiter had arrived and was sharing furious whispers with the other, both looked irritated before Natsu’s grin grew larger, satisfied with whatever conversation had gone between them. “Oi, just go ahead and get me a coke and - “ he looked to Lucy and smirked lazily, “What do ya’ want? I’ll cover it.”

Wait, was he serious? Looking from him and to the waiter, she cleared her throat and muttered a quick, “Sweet Tea with Lemon, please,” and the waiter was off. Natsu didn’t waste a second of time, opening one of the menus to hold it out to her. “So, what’s your name,” He asked lazily, prodding her fingers until she took the menu and opened it. “I’m sorry?” Lucy still felt like she was missing a few steps in the dark. Natsu snickered, “Well, you don’t have to tell me, but I figured this would look more real if I knew your name. Or I could just make up one?”

Lucy’s earlier horror was being buried beneath amused bafflement. The entire situation felt so surreal, but Lucy was beginning to warm up to the idea. A hint of a real smile curled at her lips and she sipped her water, eyeing Natsu through her lashes. “And what sort of name would you give me?” She asked.

Was she flirting only minutes after learning she’d been dumped? Something must have jarred a screw loose in her head. Natsu didn’t seem to mind, however, as he scrunched his nose in though and tapped a finger to his chin. “How about… Luigi?”

“What?!” Lucy sputtered, pushing the glass aside. “You can’t call me that, I’m a girl!”

Natsu’s expression looked much like the cat who caught the canary, “Then you got no choice, but to tell me your name. Or it’s Luigi for the rest of the evening!” “No way, you have to pick another or I’m leaving.”

It was his turn to sputter, “Oi, that’s not fair, you already agreed to-” “And I can change my mind at any time.” She asserted, eyes gleaming. Natsu knitted his brows together in thought before he laughed again. Rather than give her a new name, he tapped the menu again. That smirk was making the twisted knots in her stomach detangle and curl in a way she wasn’t expecting. Odd, Lucy thought, she hadn’t felt warm from such a smile in a long time. “Go ahead and pick something. I already know what I’m having and all the meals are affordable! You’ll like everything, I swear.”

Her attention turned back to the menu and she nibbled her lip, “you haven’t even looked at it.” She accused me.

“Don’t need to. I know everything about it.” He replied flippantly, but gave no further explanation. The smile on his face spoke of mischief, making Lucy wonder if she had failed to notice something about him, but she shrugged and chose a meal to order either way.

Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it, surprised to see her friend had answered, full of worry towards the conclusion of her date. She began to type a response, but paused, unsure of what to say. Natsu snorted. “Wow,” He teased, “already on your phone. Am I that boring?”

“Maybe you are,” Lucy said pointedly, laughing when he squawked in mock offense. Her fingers quickly ran across the screen, sending a quick, ‘I’ll tell you later. My Date’s still going.’ Giggling, she put it back in her purse and looked to her pouting savior. “I was letting my friend, Levy, know that I would stop by her house later.”

“Oh, is that all?” He propped his chin in the palm of his hand and observed her. “You really just gonna give your friend’s name that easy, but can’t give me yours?”

Oh, crap, she really did do that. Abashed, Lucy turned her nose in the air and said stiffly, “You still haven’t given me a new one.”

Natsu’s grin was nothing short of sly, “Nah, it’s a secret now. I’d rather your real name anyway.”

It was hard to argue with that. Curiosity urged Lucy to needle him for more answers, but she was interrupted by their drinks arriving. Natsu took the opportunity to rattle off his order, a rather large one if she read the menu correctly. In a few seconds, the waiter was gone again, with both menus and Lucy wondered when the tears had stopped trying to fall.

The pain was still there, dull and throbbing in her chest, but it felt.. Distant, in that moment. Natsu jabbed his straw into his coke before slurping away without a care in the world. It was something Dan would have called “uncivilized” for a girl like her. One of the many reasons her father insisted they date. Had she been fooling herself all this time? The thoughts swirled in her mind and Lucy realized she had much to think about.

“Lucy.” Her name spilled forth without further prompting. Natsu paused from his drink to blink at her, expression almost slack jawed as the straw dangled between his lips and teeth. “My name is Lucy.”

It wasn’t an immediate fix, but this man had already slapped a bandage on her aching heart. The least she could do was give her name.

The straw popped from Natsu’s mouth as he laughed, “Hah! Luigi wasn’t too far off!” “H-hey! They sound nothing alike!”

It was absurd. Crazy even, but Lucy began to laugh right along with Natsu. Their joined giggles filled the space between them and the ice was broken. Her now pseudo date began and with every new topic approached by Natsu, more laughter ensued. Eventually, Lucy did cry, but only from humor. When their meal came, Natsu ate with gusto, leaving bits of crumbs and sauce on the side of his mouth and for once in her life, Lucy didn’t feel the need to constantly dab her mouth with a tissue. It was a comfortable back and forth. By the time they both cleaned their plates, the restaurant was near empty and all the streetlights had lit up the windows.

It was getting late, and Lucy’s phone buzzed with more messages. Each went ignored. Lucy didn’t think to check the time until the bill had been placed on the table, quickly swept up by Natsu before she could glance at it. “You really don’t have to cover for me.” She said, feeling guilty. Natsu waved her off as he pulled a card from his pants pocket. Lucy didn’t bother asking why he didn’t have a wallet, assuming it was one of his many quirks.

“You’re right. I don’t.” Natsu agreed, making no move to hand her the bill, “but I want to so I’m going to.”

Leaning back in her chair, Lucy blew a strand of hair from her face and sighed. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”

Natsu, for the first time that night, grew solemn. A growl of frustration rumbled through his frame and he ran his hands through his hair, searching for the right words. “Yes. Yes I did. Or I would have regretted it for the rest of my life.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Lucy accused, ignoring the way his words made her ears turn red. Natsu denied it, shaking his head as his obvious annoyance turned to anger. “No.” He bluntly said. “I’m not. You were being stared at and clearly upset. What sort of guy would I be if I just let you run out to cry like that? Tch.” he reached over the table to tuck the blond strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. “I had to try and make your day better. It didn’t sit right with me not to.”

Lucy sniffed, eyes watering before she could stop them. Natsu reacted with a curse under his breath. “Shit, I didn’t mean to make you cry. The point was to help you smile!”

A watery laugh burst through and she wiped her eyes, smiling widely. This complete stranger saw a girl in distress and decided he had to make her smile. How touching was that? And silly. Most wouldn’t think to do that for someone they didn’t know. Wiping more tears away, she grabbed his hand in gratitude, biting back a choked sob. “You did.” She said, laughing through the tears. “You made me smile more than I had in months.”

Ah, and that was the truth of it. Despite her relationship with Dan, she’d been going through the motions. So assured that they were clicking, without fully realizing how much she pushed aside and pretended wasn’t an issue. And Natsu came and burst through the doors, showing her just how much she’d been holding back. It was uplifting and painful all at once, but Lucy couldn’t have been more grateful. “Thank you, Natsu.” She said earnestly, hoping he could understand just how much his actions meant to her. “I mean it.”

His answering smile was so bright, Lucy felt her entire torso warm up at the sight. Natsu really did have an infectious smile, Lucy thought. His hand flipped to give her own a squeeze before they separated and Lucy caught the faintest hint of red glowing on the tips of his ears. It was cute. Ridiculously so.

“Then that’s…” He said helplessly, words failing before he tried again, “That’s good then! Guess there’s only one thing left to do.”

Before Lucy could ask, he left his seat and moved to her end, holding his hand out for her to take. Grabbing her purse, she allowed him to lead her through the restaurant and to the exit. While she understood the night had to end eventually, the sudden realization that it came now made her heart stutter. She almost wasn’t ready to face the world again, turning to Natsu just as they entered the parking lot. Natsu didn’t leave the sidewalk, his hand still warm in hers as he fidgeted beside her. “Sorry if that seems a bit rushed, but I don’t want your friend to worry about you. That’s why your phone keeps buzzing, right?”

Lucy blushed, looking to her purse that vibrated from her phone again. “Oh, y-yeah.. That- probably is Levy.” She would have so many apologies to give her friend later for this! She almost whined at the thought, but turned her attention back to Natsu. “Well, I guess, this is it then.”

It was a little awkward, maybe a little silly after the night they had, but it wasn’t a real date so what else could Lucy do? She held her hand out for a shake and smiled. “Thanks for making my night the exact opposite of a disaster.”

Natsu stared at her hand as if it was dripping in goo, scrunching his nose up before he laughed, fished for something in his other pocket and slapped his hand into hers, holding a small card between the two. Lucy tried to withdraw to examine what he’d given her, but his grip tightened slightly as he grinned. “Anytime, Lucy.” He said, face splitting in half with his mischievous grin, “And I mean it. Any time. And hey, maybe-”

His words hung in the air as Lucy froze, feeling like a sudden precipice had appeared before her and she was about to tumble off it. Was he-? “You know, maybe when you feel better we can do this again sometime.” He finished, releasing her hand. “For real this time.”

The implication did not escape her. A real date. He was asking for a real date. Was it all right to agree to something so soon after a possible break up? The thoughts whirled in her head, but for once, Lucy didn’t feel overwhelmed as she had earlier. Lucy didn’t miss the message: maybe when you feel better.

Natsu was giving her the choice and the time to process her feelings and get herself in order. Just how good was this man? Beaming, she clutched the small card to her chest and nodded. “I’d like that.” It was the most honest answer she could give, and one that took her breath away from excitement. Natsu released a breath, shoulders sagging as if he’d been stone moments before and he dramatically clutched at his own heart. “Thank god!” He cried, “I’ve never just out and asked someone out before, I was for sure you’d turn me down like the weirdo you are!”

“Wait, what did you just call me-” Lucy’s words were cut off by his lips warmly pressing against her cheek and in a flurry, he dashed back to the doors and flung them open, gleefully grinning.

“That’s the other name!” He said, voice coming out in a sing song, “I was gonna call you a weirdo!”

The doors slammed shut before she could utter a reply, standing a mere twenty feet from her car and astonished. A weirdo? His other name for her was that? “What sort of name is that?!” Hilarity struck her and Lucy laughed as she unlocked her car. It wasn’t until she sat herself inside the vehicle that she realized Natsu had gone back into the restaurant rather than to his own car.

Wait, why did he-? Noticing the sign on the window had changed to closed, she stared at the card in her hand in scrutiny. She wasn’t surprised to see his cell number on the card, but then her eyes read the title of the card. Her jaw dropped again.

Natsu Dragneel: Head line Cook to the Dragneel Bar and Grill.

Lucy’s surprised shriek could be heard through the entire parking lot. “HE WORKS HERE!?”

#Mira's Fanfiction #Nalu Fanfiction #FT Fanfiction #Fairy Tail Fanfiction #Nalu #NatsuxLucy #was inspired and i went with it #why cant i write 4k words this fast usually?#fricken brain #anyway #if you thought you were on my tag list #and didn't get tagged #either tumblr wouldn't let me tag you #or your names were changed and i dont know the new urls #SO TELL ME YOUR NEW URLS #sobs

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silvercrystalwhump · 3 years ago

Text

Their Not so Different Are They?

Here’s some during the time when Vince and Dmitri were just friends

Vincent Shield belongs to @ashintheairlikesnow

TW: references to sex, implied dubcon (being drunk), alcohol reference,

The warm embrace of drowning ichor.

It’s been awhile!

Lights dancing against air

Can you keep a secret?

The way hands brush against skin.

Just for tonight, got it?

Ice cold breath.

You’re absolutely gorgeous.

Poison across sheets.

You’re just perfect.

Boney, empty void.

Vincent wakes up, eyes ripping open to meet the pale tiles of a ceiling. A fan spins above him. Like an omen, it looms over him. His fingers wrap around the fibers of the bed spread. Slowly, he sits up, eyes focusing around the mirror across the room.

He’s in a hotel room.

Why am I in a hotel?

He rubs his temples and leans forward. Vincent, trying to pull together a story around him, glances to his left. The covers of the blankets were tossed off to the side.

Shit.

Vincent looks down at himself, piercing his lips. He is starkly naked.

Fuck.

Vincent glances down at the floor and sees most of yesterday's clothes scattered across the floor. He feels a wave of unease cross over him.

Why the fuck do I even so this?

He throws his legs over the side and scoops up some of his clothes. Vincent can smell the reek of alcohol, regret and something else. Pretending to ignore his mistakes, Vincent throws the clothes on as if this was a normal morning.

No one is in the room with him.

Vincent peeks just about everywhere as he bottoms up his shirt. He's tired, the kind of tired that makes you weary rather than drowsy. Everything feels slightly out of reach, his fingertips too sensitive.

He finds his phone tossed onto the small couch. Vincent sighs and plops down, grabbing his phone, and pulling up his messages.

Vincent rolls through the handful of messages he sent during his haze the night prior and one stands out.

Don't worry about picking me up, I'll have a ride in the morning.

Vincent puts his head back in his hands, dread blooming in his chest.

Looking across the hotel room, he tries to find any clue as to who he decided in his drunken stupor to sleep with. The faint ghosting of hands trailing down his spine forces him to pause ever so often.

Nothing.

The only sign being the discarded bed sheets and the soreness in his gut.

He collapses against a wall and lets himself slide to the floor. A hangover to trump all Hangovers eats as his temples.

Then his phone pings next to him.

Wanna hear something funny?

The text is from Dmitri, which is both a relief and a jab to the gut.

Sure, Vincent responds, rubbing his temples.

Have you ever seen someone fall into four dozen Boston Cream donuts before?

No.

Well yesterday night some guy, drunk off his ass, came in and demanded four dozen Boston cream donuts. He takes them and gets three steps from the door before stumbling over and falling on his donuts. There was just cream EVERYWHERE. Had to help Yasmin scrub it off. Hilarious in hindsight thou.

Vincent tisks at the mental image, cream filling covering tiles and windows. He remembers walking into Yasmin’s bakery before with Dmitri. The place smelled of warm honey.

Staring at his phone scream, he slowly types out a message. His finger hesitates over the send button. He, slowly and tentatively, presses down and the soft ping nearly sends him up a wall.

Can you do me a favor?

Vincent stares blankly down at the phone screen. Anxiety eats at his already pounding skull. His body, a quivering leaf in a hurricane of regret, feels cold even through the heater next to him.

Sure whats up

Can you pick me up?

Vincent’s mouth dries.

…

Sure. Where are you?

Before Vincent realizes it, he’s sliding into the passenger seat of Dmitri’s truck. Looking like an absolute mess of a human, he lets himself sink into the chair.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Vincent says as he messes with his pants. The slacks are so wrinkled that the place where he digs in his nails changes nothing. He can feel the fabric crinkle under his fingers, knowing how much Marie is going to have him for ruined pants.

Especially these ones, they were not cheap.

“I know,” Dmitri responds as his eyes twitch between street signs, “But I wanted to.” Something about how nonchalant Dmitri seems and how disheveled Vincent just feels off. Nobody Vincent knew would be this… uncaring for appearances. Yet, Dmitri, in an almost invisible way, takes no notice.

Vincent leans back, the muscles in his shoulder twisting into coils. He tries to fade into the soft music barely playing through the speakers. “You didn’t---” “You want some coffee?” Dmitri interrupts, as he pulls into an exit.

“You don’t have to get me anything.”

Dmitri blinks as he turns the car into a drive-through, “I know but do you want coffee?”

Vincent pauses, “I- Yeah but I’ll pay.” Vincent reaches for his wallet, vision blurring with every sudden movement.

Dmitri reaches out and stops his hand. He gives him a soft smile and shakes his head, “My treat.”

“I shouldn’t-”

Dmitri pulls into the drive-through and chuckles, “Nope, too late, I’m paying.”

Vincent tries to open his mouth but Dmitri is already ordering. He finds himself sitting tentatively under his own skin as they get coffee. He prayed silently that the cashier does not recognize him, or anyone outside of Dmitri’s truck.

I really don't want to be seen.

Vincent feels himself coil back behind his eyes again. The weight of air on his skin is just too much to bear. Each roll of the air conditioning across his skin feels too much like breath. Everything, even the hair rising on the back of his neck, just adds to the couplings of soft teeth barely grazing his mind.

Then, the air conditioning stops.

“If you were cold you could’ve just asked to turn the AC down,” Dmitri says, ripping Vincent from the flood of sensations.

“I wasn’t cold,” Vincent responds, noticing the coffee sitting in the cup holder next to him. He takes it and brings the cup to his lips, the smell of hazelnut letting him anchor.

Dmitri raises an eyebrow, “You kinda shut off and started shivering.”

Vincent looks up and blinks. They are in a completely different place, driving through winding hills in the middle of nowhere. “No no I’m just a bit hungover.”

“Oh,” Dmitri chirps as he leans back and grabs something from the seat behind Vincent, “Here, drink this.” He hands Vincent a Gatorade and returns to driving, “I have just water if you don’t do gatorade.”

“Why gatorade?”

Dmitri shrugs, “Hangovers are caused by dehydration, the brain doesn’t have enough water and usually other things too so if you drink a lot of liquids the hangover fades faster.”

Vincent reluctantly takes it and opens the cap, “You keep this stuff in your car?”

“Yeah, Samantha, one of my employees, sometimes comes in hungover so I give her one when she needs it. It kinda became a habit so I just keep them in my car. She’s a good kid so I try not to harp her too much about it,” Dmitri says as he drinks his own coffee.

After taking a sip, Vincent realizes actually how thirsty he is.

I haven’t drunk anything other than liquor since yesterday morning… and that was coffee.

“Have you ever gotten so drunk you only remember flashes of what you did the night before?” Vincent asks as he drinks all of the Gatorade.

Dmitri nods, “I did that alot in my twenties, losing yourself in the lights and all that. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve woken up in either a field, a motel 6, or in the ice box.”

Vincent looks down at the now empty bottle of Gatorade, I drank all of that? He places the bottle at his feet and makes a mental note to throw it out when he gets home. A part of him burns slightly with soured memories of liquor, scotch cologne, and envy. He rests his head back on the chair and lets out a sigh.

His thoughts, taking the wheel of his lips, just spill from his lips, “I really shouldn’t be doing shit like this, since now I have to go off of foggy memories of who I even went back there with.” Vince you’re rambling. “I don’t even remember this guy's name.” Vince, shut up. “And I wake up the next morning, knowing that I slept with him.” Shut the fuck up Vincent! ��He’s not even there in the morning too, and now I have to figure out who i have to get to keep his mouth shut about me being gay and I just-”

Great, fucking great Vincent Shield, you’ve dug this grave. Now die in it.

Vincent pales, vision whitening around the edges, “I should've said that- I should’ve please don’t tell anyone. I’ll pay you but please---”

“Vee,” Dmitri says calmly, “I get it, your secrets safe with me. I remember when I was far back in the closet.”

“Wait you’re-”

“Gay, yup. I know I don’t exactly scream fruity but I am.”

Vincent feels himself relax just enough to breathe, “I- thank you, I can’t say how-”

“I get it,” Dmitri reassures, “I’ve accidentally outed myself before too. I did it to my Dad. I know the feeling and I would make a peep.”

Vincent crumples under the weight of his words. Like a cord snapping back, the whiplash of emotions feels like a beheading. “Thank you.”

Silence floods the truck. It gnaws at the ends of Vincent's fingers until they go numb. Vincent shakily reaches out and takes the coffee cup. Hoping the heat loosens the sinue of his fingers.

“So am I just dropping you off at your house or…”

“Yeah yeah, at my house.”

#forgotten to found #dmitri o'brian #vincent shield #dubcon tw #implied dubcon tw #sex mention tw #alcohol tw #vincent makes dumb decisions vol 5

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insufferablelust · 4 years ago

Text

The dying and Its blossoming.

The one where Y/N love Spencer Reid, but soon find out that he might or might not have found someone else.

OKAY HELLO, this is the angst i talked about yesterday, it’s sad.. but has a happy ending so don’t cry just yet! anyway the reason why i write this is because i’ve been numb for few days and i want to cry bad so i just decided to write. And this is what i came up with, it made my soft ass cried so hopefully.. it can get through to you too, happy reading! oh and TAAHM is also uploading soon!

MASTERLIST OF ALL MY WORKS.

WARNINGS : ANGST, heartbreak stuff, fluff at the end, thats it i think!!

————🍃————

It was the little things he did that caught your eyes since you joined the team. The way he first introduced himself to you, shaking your hands with the brightest smile beaming on his face. The way he always put a coffee on your desk before you arrived. The way he would review all the case with you, going over the files together and staying late to work on paperworks together. The way he called you a week after Maeve’s death and asked you to stay on the phone. So on and so forth.

Falling for Spencer Reid is inevitable, how can it not be inevitable? when you and him practically do all things together, Dr Who marathons, Drive to Rossi’s, even accompanying him to Vegas one time to visit his Diana.

The first time you felt it, felt the spark— you shook away your thoughts and scoffed at yourself, it’s just a stupid crush. You tried, tried so hard to believe that it was just a stupid crush. Yet the more time you spent together, the more your heart take over your brain, convinced you to love him, and convinced you to think that he’s in love with you. Truth and confession aside, you could’ve sworn he’s in love with you, these are facts right? all these moments? surely it has to mean something to him, like it meant something to you.

Confuses and frustrated, the next person you called was Emily, your closest friend besides Spencer. She knows how head over heels you are for him, and how much you’re willing to do anything for him. So that night you spilled all your confusions and worries as you sipped on your wine, your teeth constantly biting your nails— if Spencer was here, he would’ve told you that “Y/N, do you know that biting your nails—“ and you would listen to him contently even if you already knew what he was about to say.

“It’s just— i’m not crazy to think he loves me back right? or at least like me?” You stresses, chugging down the last bit of your drink as you hear Prentiss chuckled on the other side.

“What? No Y/n, look i’ve practically grown up with you guys, and all i can say is that you both really need to realize how much you actually need each other, so stop worrying, go get your man.”

Now when Emily said that, she didn’t mean it as literally going over to Spencer’s house like what you were doing right now. Only wearing an oversize sweater and pair of jeans, you looked so comfy inside those sweater paws that you let out an annoyed huffed, ‘now he’ll think i’m a child’ then an idea popped inside your head, causing a big cute smile to appear on your cheeks. Your hand reached to the backseat, sighing when you find what you were looking for; Spencer’s purple sweater.

Now you didn’t stole it, he gave it to you, because you’ve mentioned one morning that “They are all sold out Spence! you’re one of the lucky ones” The annoyed look on your face must be so embarrassing that he gave his godforsaken lilac sweater to you the next day, with the Spencer reid’s famous smile “Here, you can keep it, i already washed it but it’ll probably smells like me still cause i smell like my clothes and i used my—“

“Lavender, you always use lavender for your clothes, i remember Spencer! oh my heavens! Thank you.” You can’t forget how seemingly happy he looked, cheeks flushed, as flushed as yours.

You sighed contently at the thought, as you exited your car, clutching his sweater on your chest as you head up to his apartment. Now you see, if the plan does work you’ll just say that you need for him to wear it again because the smell starting to wear off, which made you giggle. So you jog upstairs quickly to his apartment door before knocking, “Spencer?”

You frowned, usually he always opened his door right after you knock, why’s he taking so long? so out of worry you knock few times “Hello? Spencer?” this time you were met by voices of two people, giggling and hushing each other, as they got closer, you giggled in thought ‘maybe you’ll find garcia there who knows?”

But the moment someone opened Spencer’s door your eyes went wide, and your brain tries to make a sense out of what you’re seeing. Here standing in front of you is a girl, a stunning woman you’ve neither met or recognized but one thing you recognized is how well Spencer’s sweater clung on her body, and how happy she looked while she’s standing on his door wearing his clothes with his mug in hand.

“May i help you?” She asked with a smile, you could see the blue colored scrub bottom on her, A surgeon, judging by her uncharacteristically warm welcome, you guessed pediatrics. Damn it Y/N no time for profiling.

“Is spencer he—“

“Who is it, love?”

Oh... so this is why he canceled your usual movie night two days ago, this is why he’s been saying he’s busy when you asked him to drive you to your usual hangout library, this is why he’s been so happy recently.. this is the reason. a mid 20 possibly 30 years old gorgeous Surgeon with a warm smile and impossibly sweet attitude.

“Uh i think she’s your friend from work, Y/N right?”

You concluded then and there that you don’t like how she said your name, it was selfish but you hated how kind it sounds whilst you’re here standing in front of her, eyes glassy and lips trembling. Then when you thought you’ve seen it all, your eyes locked with Spencer, he— looked so content and comfortable, happy. He looked so happy with his...

“Y/N, hi what are you doing here so late? oh and Y/N meets (G/N) and (G/N) meets Y/N, she’s my best friend from work”

So thats what you were, Best friends who acts like a couple, best friends who hold hands, best friends who shared a drunken kiss, best friends who poured everything to each other, best friends who— you can go on and on yet you can feel how tight your chest is becoming, Anxiety— fuck you have to get out of here.

“Y/N?”

“I-i, uh here’s your um sweater, i— figured you might want uh it back, alright i gotta go now.” Spencer didn’t missed how your hand trembles so bad when you handed him the sweater, or how glassy your eyes looked, or how your face looked like it was drained of color, and how you struggled to breathe, her anxiety attacks.

“Y/N wait!” Before he could mention anything, she went down quickly and running towards her car.

“What was that all about?” His girlfriend asked him, which he shook his head in reply, and muttered “no idea, let me check” So he went down, to no surprise, her car was speeding away.

What Spencer didn’t know was that Y/N came home wishing she could’ve been smart enough to noticed the damn signs, or smart enough to never let her heart fooled her into thinking a genius, a guy like him would ever have any feelings for her.

She went to the bathroom, not bothering to wash her face instead she sat down near the sink and then she cried, she hugged her knees and Y/N cried that night, cried so hard that she tire herself out, falling asleep on the floor of her bathroom.

——————

The next morning, she woke up with a headache that’s practically yelling at her to take some meds and drink, her eyes opened slowly as she found herself laying on the cold bathroom floor. Slowly she tried to get up, holding onto the nearest wall as she feel her knees buckled and her head pounding, she let out string of curses before managing to stand fully, leaning over the sink to see herself in the mirror.

The sight is terrifying, her eyes bloodshot red, her face looks dull drained of color, her lips dry, her hair is a mess and her nose is runny. She continue to stare at her misery some more until her phone rang, flaring up the headaches. Great.. Must be a fucking case.

“Hello?” She mentally cringed hearing herself, she doesn’t sound like herself, she sounded like she just drank 30 bottles of alcohol then managed to broke her vocal cords.

“Hi... Y/N are you okay?” Emily’s voice was soothing at least, she sighed as she gulped down an aspirin and took some clothes out of her closet.

“Yeah, We have a case?” She knew that Emily would dig up the conversation more if she didn’t jumped straight to the point, and Y/N is in no mood to talk.

“Yes, wheels up in 40 but if you cant—“

“I’ll be there in 10.”

—————

Y/N took a quick shower, before putting on your work pants, a simple V-neck t-shirt and top it with a blazer, quickly gulping the rest of her water before combing her hair and then head out the door. When she parked her car, her memory drove back to last night, causing her to groan in mental and physical pain— tears welling in her eyes as she violently hitting the steering wheel.

“Not now, Not fucking now.” She closed her eyes before leaning back against the headrest and take a deep breath, calming herself down. She prayed to herself that she won’t break down if she sees Spencer.

She won’t break down.

She keep chanting that inside her pounding head as she walked out of the elevator, entering the bullpen, quickly grabbing her go bag and place it on top of her desk before heading upstairs to the meeting room.

She knew where he usually sit, so when she entered the room, she tried her best to look at Garcia, presenting the case. “Sorry i’m late, traffic is a damn bitch, Double homicide Garcia?” She asked, as she sit down between Emily and JJ, looking down at her files, noticed how stupid she was to use files instead of the tablet which she refused so she could review the cases with Spencer on the plane, Now look who’s laughing. What she didn’t realized realized is that all eyes were on her disheveled looking state, no amount of make up could cover the misery, i suppose.

“Yes, we’re thinking surrogates for a blond woman with wealthy family. Y/N are you okay?” She visibly tensed, hearing his voice is like opening up a fresh wound and pour some acid on top. She wished he could just shut up and not talk to her anymore, not now or in few days at least.

“Fine. Garcia, any other leads?” Y/N looks up to Garcia, to find her with a frown on her face, clearly wanting to say something. But Y/N has the pleading look in her eyes, and the way she tilted her head made Garcia shook her head and replied with a small “Nuh uh thats it, the rest is on your file” Nodding at her with a silent thank you, you get up and left the room, which in other cases Emily won’t appreciate but she let it slide because she knew something’s wrong.

“Y/N” Not him again, you muttered on your head, as you zipped up your go bag.

“Y/N..” Then he touched you, touched your arms, he touched you and you exploded, all your willpower ceased to exist as you swat his hand away and giving him a warning.

“Don’t touch me unless necessary, don’t talk to me unless it’s about the case, and do not call me by my first name, it’s agent Y/L/N, have a good day Dr.Reid”

—————

Throughout the entirety of the case, neither you nor spencer talk to each other, only piling up opinions about the case, the team have caught the unsub of course, so now you’re heading back to DC.

The longer you sit on the very opposite end to where Spencer sit, your mind started to wonder back to what happened three days ago. Being on the case has definitely helped distract you from the reality that Spencer Reid has a girlfriend and that you’re a fool to ever believed that he could love you. You’re so deep in thought whilst looking at the soft curls of his hair, you didn’t realized Emily has sat down next to you.

“A girlfriend?”

“What?”

“He has a girlfriend doesn’t he?” Your eyes darted to Emily’s as you sighed heavily, closing your eyes and leaned your head against her shoulder. “She’s a surgeon, pediatrics i think, she probably smarter than i am, um she smile a lot and she’s holding a cup of coffee when i arrived so i’m guessing she’s a nice person, there’re cat fur on her hair so i guess she has a cat which he should’ve hate being a germaphobe and all but i guess she love that kind.” Y/N half whispered half yelled, as she stared at his poking head still that is before she heard Emily burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, Y/N you profiled her?”

“Em!” You whined as you shove her shoulder, you crossed your arms on your chest as you huffed and pout like a child. “I’m sorry it’s just.. oh god you even notices cat hair” She laughed again, which caused you to laugh loudly, feeling the joy overcome you in full force before you started to cry, not knowing why. Tears kept on falling down your face as Emily hugged you and rubbing your back “Its okay, let it out sweet girl. I got you.” That was the last thing you remembered before falling asleep.

—————

It’s been a week since the last case, you’re finally able to hold yourself up and not cry every 2 hours is an achievement. You spent your time on an autopilot mode, woke up, work, avoid Spencer depending if there’s a case or not, then lunch, cried in the bathroom, paperwork, avoid Spencer, return home, cried again watching Dr Who, falls asleep, woke up and repeat. That’s how you’ve been for a week, and you know how difficult it is to move on but you’re trying and thats what matters.

Knock knock

You furrowed your brows at the sound, Emily wasn’t supposed to be here until 2 PM, so why’s she visiting now at.. 11 am? You sighed as you put down your tub of ice cream and opened the door only wearing your pajamas since its sunday.

“Emily, its way to early to— Dr.Reid?” You can’t believe your eyes when you see a very nervous looking Spencer at your door, your heart still thump hard at the sight of him which you whined at inside— you still love him after everything. Damn it. You took a deep breath as you heard him say your name, before moving backwards to slam the door at his face,

“No! no no wait Y/N hear me out! please!” His voice cracks as he hold the door so you won’t have a chance to slam it in his face.

“What the fuck do you want? Is being an asshole and destroying my life enough for you?” You half yelled, as you turn around and let him see your angry tears. You were so mad at him, you hated him so much, yet you still love him just as much if not more.

“I know, i know you hate me and i deserved it. But please hear me out, you deserve explanation.” His voice are quivering, signaling he was about to cry as you chuckle darkly,

“Damn right i am. But i’m done, done with your games, i can’t keep up with you— i will never be enough and you have.. have someone so please just go and i’ll forget this will ever happen” You plead as your voice soften, you’re just exhausted, you want it to stop, you want to stop hurting. So you shoved him away before pushing the door,

“I love you! I’ve always loved you.” Your movement froze as you hear him continue, your tears still falling freely from your eyes

“The only reason why.. why i dated her is so that i can get over you. I thought.. i thought you’ll grow tired of me soon, and i don’t want to be the one who’s hurt so i.. i found her but i love you, i never stopped”

“You cant just assumed things like that Spencer! You can’t. You should’ve asked me you should’ve told me!” You’re full on yelling now as you let him in, god your neighbors is going to hate you.

“I know! I know but i never handled rejection well and you know that! everyone left me, my dad, Gideon, Morgan, Emily at one point, Hotch, and maybe my.. mom soon. I’m sorry Y/N, i really am, i’m— i’m sorry for being such a coward, for not telling you, for not—“ You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips against his in a desperate ‘i love you’ manner, you didn’t care, you just love him, and he could be lying but why? why would he be lying? You pulled back as you stare at him

“Have you end it?”

“5 days, 17 hours, and 28 minutes ago” You chuckled, the first time you chuckled after such a long time, as you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

“I love you too..” You whispered, causing him to hug you tightly as you both sob into each other’s arms, whispering I love you’s again and again like it’ll never be enough.

“I love you, Y/N Y/l/N, i swear.”

“I love you, sorry about calling you an asshole” You laughed nervously before he chuckled and leaned to push you on the couch, “You might have to make it up to me..” He teased, and you let out a grunt. “Fine, Blow jobs for a week anywhere you want..” His face beamed and he blushes before tickling you, “Deal, Baby.”

“Wait Spencer so does this mean—“

“Y/N, will you be the girlfriend of this asshole?” You let out a tear before nodding and tackling him to the couch to hug him tightly “yes, yes, yes i will” He kissed your lips quickly, reaching for his satchel and pull out a lilac sweater,

“I believe it’s yours”

“Like you’re mine?”

“Yours, always.”

——————

blurb requests are open! send some in, any genre is fine, and please like + reblog! if you have any constructive criticisms or feedback please private message me, thanks!

#spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid imagines #insufferableblurb

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vesuvian-american-fics · 4 years ago

Text

better with time. Ch 4

fevers.

You’re struggling with a harsh fever. (AO3)

Words: 1,633

The following weeks were a blur of the same old routine. Reading, writing, drawing, and trying to speak. Progress was made but it was all too frustratingly slow for your own liking. You could make sounds now but they were embarrassingly hoarse and your throat was sore from the work. Only Hange was around for the vocal lessons and you were pleased with that. Who knows how Levi would tease if he heard your voice as it was now?

You could sound out your vowels and other simple noises, your irritated huffs and puffs now came with sound, something Levi wasn’t too happy about. Hearing you express your agitation with his presence annoyed him like no other but he often held his tongue. One stern glare would settle you down for the time being, you knew your place and that was enough for now.

“Oi...” He said, as he opened your cell door just a crack for you to come retrieve your lunch. No response, even though you’re sitting right there in your cell reading at your desk he presumed. Levi rolled his eyes before stomping into the cell and harshly dropping a tray down next to your slumped form. The loud racket from the clanking metal and glass shook you from your slumber. You must have dozed off instead of studying.

A gleam of cold sweat made your forehead shine as a few loose strands were sticking to you. Levi frowned before snatching his hand away from you, afraid of being too close. He recoiled in disgust before exiting the cell and heading towards Hange’s office.

“Shitty Glasses, your favorite titan looks sick.” He says wiping his hands clean on his handkerchief. Hange didn’t take their eyes from their microscope lens, they simply hummed at nothing in particular. Levi’s eyes narrowed; he’s sure they hadn’t actually heard a word he said.

“Oi! You hear me?” He asked, stepping closer, again, he was partially ignored.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah. Someone’s not feeling too good right?” They said, slipping a new slide under the scope and scribbling notes haphazardly in their messy notepad. Levi pinched the bridge of his nose before kicking at Hange’s stool to garner their full attention. Hange gasped as their arms flailed to grab the desk before them as to not fall on their ass.

“O-oh! Who’s sick?” They sheepishly asked as they tried to set everything back to rights on their disorganized table. Levi huffed at the scene before him before giving Hange a well-deserved lecture about keeping tidy and listening when they’re spoken to.

“That brats down there sweating like a hog, get them a bath. She looks shitty.” He said as he turned to make his leave for a cup of steaming black tea.

“I’m busy why don’t you do it?” Hange complained taking one last glimpse at the specimen in their microscope slide. Levi said nothing, simply leveling Hange with a stare over his shoulder.

“Joking, joking! Right away!” Hange rushed past Levi in their haste to get a bath running for you. Levi shook his head before continuing down the opposite hallway for his tea and some quiet time in his office signing off on reports.

You had hardly touched your lunch when Hange got to you. They cocked their head to the side as they watched you pick away at the vegetables on your plate, long gone cold. Hange playfully huffed at the sight, surely a hot bath, fluids, and some rest and you’ll be right as rain.

You gave Hange a weary smile and wiped your forehead clean of any lingering sweat. Hange returned that smile and ushered you off to the bath, this time allowing you to wash your own hair. The two of your shared a few laughs as Hange walked you through their latest experiments and the daily goings on with the Scouts.

“They’re really curious about you, you know. Sooner you can talk and we get things cleared up I think Levi will let you meet people.” You snorted at that, sure he would.

Hange barked a hearty laugh before continuing.

“He’s actually not so bad when you get to know him.” They said with a soft smile, reminiscing on the good times.

You scrunched your nose up at the thought but you also were the type to see the good in everybody, and surely, he had some good qualities if Hange could stand him. Of course, he’s strong, intelligent, and admittedly handsome, but is there truly anything charming about his character? Not yet at least, you thought.

The time spent in the hit bath must have taken its toll on you, your face was flushed red and you were out of breath just sitting there. Your heart was pounding and your vision was growing dark around the edges. You motioned for Hange to come help you stand and with hand movements you told them you desperately needed something to drink. Swiftly, the two of you made it back to your cold damp cell where you shuffled into bed and they were off once again to grab you a cup of warm tea.

On the way to the canteen for a clean glass, Hange spotted and angry Levi storming down the hallway. Quickly, Hange tried to avoid the Captain but he caught up to them with little effort and grabbed them harshly on the arm.

“Shitty Glasses... where are those reports I asked for yesterday?” He grilled, folding his arms over his chest with a look on impatience plastered of his pale face.

“Uh... I got carried away in my research– but, I can work on that right now and get them on your desk tonight!” Hange clasped their rough hands together, almost begging for Levi’s patience. He sighed before he agreed and begin to stalk off further down the hallway.

“Ah! But can you get our guest some tea? I think she’s just dehydrated. Thank you!” Before Levi could protest Hange was gone in an instant to go finish up those reports as ordered.

“She’s no guest.” He muttered to himself as he fixed two cups of steaming jasmine tea, adding a bit of mint to both drinks. His light footfalls descended the stairs and you groaned realizing it wasn’t Hange but Levi that was bringing your drink, meaning he’d probably sit down here and watch you until the early evening. You tried to feign sleep, hoping to avoid any awkward interaction with the man but he saw through your trick in an instant.

He cracked open the cell door before sighing in annoyance.

“Oi, come get this cup.” You hesitated a moment before tossing the thin sheets off of your body and shuffling towards the bars. You gave Levi a curt nod before graciously taking the warm tea from him and drinking it like you hadn’t had water in weeks. It did well to soothe your aching throat and warm your body instantly.

He quirked an eyebrow at that but instead of commenting he slammed the cell shut before taking his seat. He drank his tea with more patience than you, savoring the cool minty flavor that could ease any illness he ever encountered. Thinking back to Hange’s words earlier you decided to show your gratitude properly now that you finished that delicious tea.

You raised your tea cup to Levi in cheers before giving the man a shy yet genuine smile. He simply nodded before closing his eyes and continuing to sip his drink. You flopped down onto your bed as your pounding headache began to cloud your senses.

For the next three days your mind was foggy. You don’t remember much other than sleeping majority of the day, sweating, a skull shattering head ache, and a fresh cup of tea three times a day.

You also developed a dry cough that destroyed your throat, unfortunately you found the tea did little to soothe that even though you hardly had the energy to sit up and drink. You looked horrible, soon enough Levi and Hange knew this was no mere dehydration spell. Something was clearly wrong, maybe you were battling a fever of some sort.

An emergency report was sent to Erwin and the next day he was standing before you, a heavy hand over your forehead.

“Definitely a fever.” He said, confirming their conclusions.

“We should move her to the infirmary for the time being until this fever breaks.” He spoke as he pulled the damp sheets from your body. You shivered at the change in temperature, shrinking in on yourself.

Levi frowned, he wouldn’t like the idea of you being out of your cell and upstairs but you looked gravely ill. He sighed in defeat, if he were in chargehe’d bring any medicine you’d need down here but Erwin was too foolishly kind.

As you at up to stand with the Commander’s help a sharp pain shot through your chest. You gasped and clutched the sweat laden fabric over your chest, your lungs were on fire, heart pounding against the back of your sternum. You doubled over as a violent cough racked your body, drops of crimson blood spilled to the wet stones underneath your feet.

Hange gasped, rushing forward to catch you before you hit the ground, your consciousness quickly fading. Levi’s eyes widened at the sight before him, lines of blood spilling from your lips, utter pain etched across your features, drenched hair dripping with sweat, your labored breathing loud and rushed. Erwin rushed out of the cell carrying you up to the infirmary with Levi and Hange hot on his heels.

Your consciousness was wavering, all you know was that you saw many concerned faces on the way to wherever you were being carried.

And then everything went black.

#levi ackerman #levi #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #better with time.#fic #illness #blood mention #aot #attack on titan #snk

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koolkat9 · 3 years ago

Text

In the Deep (Ch. 4)

Love in the Air?

I woke up to a cool cloth being pressed against my face. Deep down I hoped it to be Ludwig, caring for me in my feverish state, but when I cracked my eyes open all I saw was the French frog. “Oh good, you’re up,” he said with a sigh, laying the cloth across my forehead.

“Where’s Ludwig?” I found myself saying as soon as I could get my throat to work (it hurt like hell).

“He said he had to go, but he would return this evening.” Francis gave me a soft smile as he placed the bowl of water to the side. “You know? He’s a respectful young man, a little shy, but very earnest and seemingly loyal. Not to mention, quite easy on the eyes too.” His smile twisted into a mischievous smirk. I knew some insulting comment was coming. “How can someone as scraggly and unpleasant as you land someone like that?”

“Again, he is not my lover and-” A cough interrupted me. “Fuck you.” That damn frog and his ability to press my buttons.

Francis only shook his head and tutted something about breakfast, but I was too worked up and congested to care.

Most of my day went by like that. I eventually calmed down, but I was still ill and my body exhausted and achy so it went by like a blur. I ate, drank, slept and that was pretty much it. By evening, I was starting to feel a little better and my mind more clear.

Just as Francis had said, Ludwig returned just before dinner. He was dressed similarly to what he wore the day prior (to be honest it looked exactly like his outfit from the day prior). A loose, flowy top and brown trousers held up by a worn dark belt. He looked handsome, though he always was, even with the tail.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, pulling a chair up to sit beside my bed.

“Terrible, but after sleeping all day, I think I’m starting to feel a little bit better,” I replied. My gaze wandered to my bedside table, specifically to the box that still held the bracelet I got for Ludwig. “Oh, by the way, I wanted to give this to you yesterday...but you know…” With that, I handed the box over to a confused Ludwig.

“Y-You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. A-And I also wanted to apologize again for making you upset the other day. I would never want to make you uncomfortable.”

I swore Ludwig’s cheeks appeared to turn pink, be it from finally opening the gift, my comment, or what I assumed was the most likely answer at the time just my fever acting up and making me see things. As he pulled the bracelet up and inspected it, his jaw practically dropped as his eyes filled with awe. I felt a swell of pride at his reaction knowing I had chosen well. “You didn’t have to do this,” Ludwig said once more, now looking right at me.

I gave a little shrug. “If you don’t want to see it as solely an apology gift, think of it as a gift between friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yes. We are friends aren’t we?”

Ludwig’s brows furrowed, his eyes drifting back to the bracelet then back at me. “I-I guess we are,” he concluded, his gaze softening.

“Ah l’amour,” Francis sighed dreamily from the doorway, dinner tray in hand. “Oh by the way Arthur, here’s your dinner. A little extra in case Ludwig is hungry too.”

Ludwig shot me a confused look. “What’s he saying?”

I myself was fuming, but tried to remain calm for Ludwig’s sake. “Just ignore him.” I turned back to Francis accepting my dinner tray with a civil ‘thank you’ and a not so civil ‘get out’ once the exchange had been made.

“Maybe you should feed him, Ludwig, he may be too weak t-” Unfortunately Francis was cut short by a pillow hitting his face.

“Get out,” I growled once more, putting even more venom in the words. Finally, he got the message and exited the room as if he was a dog with its tail between its legs.

“I’m sorry about him. Nothing seems to get it through that thick skull of his and he definitely doesn't know when to stop.”

Ludwig gave me a soft smile. “Don’t worry, my brother was pretty nosy too.”

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to…” I stopped myself. Perhaps it was best not to ask about his brother, considering the reaction I got when I asked about his pod. Maybe he was dead or they had a falling out (boy did I know about having falling outs with family, after all, all my brothers hated me). Whatever it was, I didn’t want a repeat of the last time I brought up something so personal. Those sad blue eyes still haunted me.

“You’ve been meaning to what?”

“Meaning to ask…if...you guys have pets? Like animals that live with you and you care for.”

He gave me a skeptical look, but replied with: “Some of us started adopting the practice with fish, but it isn’t the same as dogs or anything. I hear some in the north have been able to mimic it more successfully with seals. I would love a dog though.”

“Really?”

“Y-Yeah. They’re...They’re really cute and so sweet. I would be happy just meeting one.”

What I proposed next even shocked me when it left my mouth. “Well, once I’m better we can go out. A neighbour nearby that Francis is acquainted with has one and maybe I can arrange a meeting.”

“Really?” Ludwig exclaimed, his eyes shining. That excited look more than made up for the embarrassment setting in from my previous suggestion.

“I-I’ll see what I can do. S-S-So don’t get your hopes up.”

He gave me a lopsided smile and I swear my heart stopped. “It's the thought that counts,” he assured me. “Uh...is your fever rising? Your face is all red. Redder than when I first got here.”

“Ahaha probably...no wonder I’m starting to feel warm. Be a dea- I-I mean...c-c-could you fill this dish up with some more cold water from downstairs?”

“Of course.”

After one more look over me, Ludwig was out the door. With a groan I fell back onto my pillow, pulling the extra one over my obviously red face. Deep down I knew exactly why I reacted this way, but there was no way I was going to admit it, not even to myself. It would be for the best, after all, we wouldn't want to complicate our relationship any further. With not much else to do, I turned to my dinner in hopes of distracting myself.

---

I awoke that night to the terrifying sound of gasping. And not like a surprised gasp, one as if whoever was making the sound was reaching for air. I snapped up in bed to find Ludwig, knuckles white as he held onto the edge of my nightstand.

“Ludwig? Ludwig, what’s wrong?” I asked as I felt my chest tightened. It was a dumb question really, I should have already been able to tell somewhat by the way he was gasping and the wild look in his eye. At least he could understand me as he pointed towards the bowl of water on the table. “Water? You need water?” He nodded.

Acting quickly, I threw off my covers and grabbed the bowl, but it was empty. Thinking quickly I drew a bath then guided Ludwig into it. As I lowered him in and his legs hit the water his tail returned and his gasps began to turn into proper breaths once more. I collapsed to my knees and leaned against the walls of the tub, taking in a sigh of relief.

“What the hell was that about?” I asked. The question came out more desperate than I would have wanted (but considering Ludwig almost suffocated right in front of me, I didn’t care at that moment).

He sank into the water to the point only his eyes and the top of his head were visible. He gave me an embarrassed look. “I...I must have fallen asleep before hydrating myself. I have to do so every six hours or so.”

“You idiot! I may not know a lot about how this turning into human stuff works yet for you guys, but from what I’ve gathered you could have died. Do you know how scared I was to hear you gasping for air like you were? Your face was practically blue. I-I...I was so worried.”

Ludwig’s eyes shifted to the side. “S-Sorry…”

I let out another sigh. Surprisingly I wasn’t embarrassed by how honest I had just been and the anger I had previously had melted away. Now I was just tired. “You’re okay now, that’s what matters.”

It became quiet. Neither of us spoke, probably trying to shake off the lingering fear and worry from before. At least that was what I was doing. Ludwig seemed fine, much to my relief. He still was only peeking out from the water as his tail occasionally flicked from what I assumed was nerves and got me a bit wet. My gaze moved from his face to his tail. It was scally and fish-like. Light blue with bottom fins that were translucent and an even lighter blue, I couldn’t pinpoint which fish it was most like.

“May I touch your tail?” The question came out without me thinking. Perhaps it was my tired and foggy mind that let it slip through. From the moment I met him, I had the urge to touch his tail just to see how it felt. Was it a little strange? Probably. I didn’t even understand it myself, but still, I couldn't take my words back now.

Ludwig’s pale cheeks became pink at the request. Nevertheless, he agreed, lifting his tail out of the water. I lightly touched it, running my fingers and palms against the smooth though slightly slimy surface. He made a small noise, something almost like a grunt at the touch. It felt strange, but there was this pleasant, almost calming aspect to it as well. I was so engrossed in it that I hadn’t even realized the effect it was having on Ludwig.

“Arthur...st-stop…” Ludwig pleaded, pushing away my hand. I immediately pulled back, not wishing to make him uncomfortable with my strange request. When I turned to face him, his face was completely red and his eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m sorry. I know...i-it was a weird request, I shouldn’t have said anything,” I said, trying to clear the air with awkward laughter (and trying to ignore how cute he looked and how fast my heart was beating).

“N-No,” Ludwig stuttered out, “I told you you could do it. I...It..I-I thought I’d be fine.”

It began to dawn on me that maybe it was usually a romantic custom for his kind. We hadn’t talked about such customs yet and I was starting to regret that at that moment. “Is it an intimacy thing?” I asked. My heartbeat seemed to only get faster at that thought.

“No…at-at least not solely,” Ludwig muttered.

“Oh so almost like a massage,” I blurted out. My mouth was just running on its own at this point.

“I-I suppose.”

What followed was one of the most awkward silences I had experienced. From my occasional glances in Ludwig’s direction, I noticed how red his face had become and how he was slowly slinking back underwater. That made two of us though unlike him I couldn’t hide. Eventually, the thick, tension-filled air became too much and I decided to head to bed.

“Well, I’m starting to get tired so I better get to bed. Uh...Perhaps you should stay in here tonight...just...ah here.” I grabbed a few towels in hopes of making some form of pillow to support his neck. I lifted my hand up as if to run it through his hair, but luckily I caught myself before making it even weirder. As I exited the bathroom, I looked towards Ludwig once more. He looked almost disappointed, his mouth drawn into a frown and his brows furrowed. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes before quickly returning his gaze downward. I almost felt like going back, but decided I needed sleep more. With a soft good night, I headed to bed.

As I laid there, staring up at the ceiling, my mind began to wander to recent events, specifically Ludwig’s reaction to it all. He had become so flustered and timid, and the way he behaved, the way he sounded as I touched his tail it was almost like… 'No way. There is no way someone as handsome and perfect as Ludwig could like someone like me… not like that,’ I thought to myself, shaking my head at the thoughts beginning to fill my head. After all, I was scrawny, short-tempered, not the easiest to get along with, not to mention self-deprecating, but prideful at the same time. How could someone like me be good enough for someone like Ludwig? To say I had an unrestful sleep that night would be an understatement.

Ch. 3

Ch. 5

#hetalia #hws #gereng #engger #geruk #mermaid au #hws germany #hws england #mermaid!ludwig #privateer!arthur #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction

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niawritess · 4 years ago

Text

The Lovestruck~Chapter 22

(17 January)

11:25 am

Here you were sitting on the bleachers with Ria, watching boys practicing for their upcoming game. Your eyes were following your boyfriend who seemed too concentrated on the game which made him more attractive. While your bestfriend took this opportunity to stare at every guy in the field.

Just as you thought, they were getting more serious, suddenly Jongin passed the ball to Minseok and it hit him on his arm and a gasp left your both of your girls lips.

Then, Minseok shot a glare at him and threw back the ball to him which he instantly dodged and it hit Junmyeon behind him and like that it became chaotic.

You and Ria couldn't help but started laughing at their sudden act. Kyungsoo and Junmyeon looked so done with them but still couldn't stop them.

Not long before, Ria excused herself to washroom and then Kyungsoo took a seat beside you leaving a chair between. He drank his water before shaking his head at them and looked at you.

"They are crazy aren't they?" He chuckled.

"But they look happy." You smiled looking at Baekhyun ducking his head as Jongdae threw the ball towards him.

"Baekhyun looks happy nowadays, well, he is goofy and cheerful but he looks really happy and I am glad that you're by his side." He said, smiling at you and you smiled back. "Baekhyun is really lucky to have friends like you."

He chuckled before you felt someone's presence in front you who turned out to be Baekhyun himself. You handed him the water bottle and he grabbed it smiling before sitting between you and Kyungsoo.

"What were you two talking about?" He gulped his water while eyeing you two suspiciously.

"I was telling her that how much of an idiot you are." He said gripping Baekhyun's nap and he yelped while you chuckled at them.

"Aren't you gonna save your boyfriend?" Baekhyun asked and you shook your head playfully.

"It's between friends so..."

"She's smart." Kyungsoo commented and Baekhyun gave him a look before nodding proudly. "She's my girlfriend."

Kyungsoo groaned before slapping his neck lightly and walked back to the field.

Soon Ria came back and at the moment Sehun threw the ball towards Jongin where Ria was right behind him. Jongin ducked down and the ball was about to hit her causing you panick and Ria closed her eyes in reflex.

However, it didn't hit her as Chanyeol instantly dragged her aside by holding her and your jaw dropped witnessing the dramatic moment making you fangirl internally.

Baekhyun chuckled at your funny yet cute reaction as he closed your mouth before he leaned in. "Do you think something is going on between them?"

You nodded suspiciously. "I also think that."

"Guess, we're going to have another couple in the group." He smirked and you smiled nodding slowly.

You both kept watching the scene as Chanyeol asked Ria if she's okay while Ria was blushing and your eyes widened.

"She's blushing?" You muttered and Baekhyun heard it since he sitting close to you.

"You think she's the only one who blushes?"

You looked at him confused before noticing his smug grin and lightly pushed him away making him laugh causing you smile too.

***

10:12 pm

"Ow! Gimme that!"

You whined stretching your hand with your body towards your bestfriend who kept taking away the chips from your reach.

"Y/n! My face mask!" She exclaimed as you accidentally hit her face and instantly snatched the chips from her before fixing your mask to see if it's peeling off.

You and Ria were in your room having a night stay while watching kdramas on the laptop infront you with you both leaning against the headboard.

"Woah! That Ajjumma is really something." You commented amazingly watching the hacker who was an middle-aged woman in Healer drama.

"I know right! And Park min young is definitely smart too." Ria stuffed her mouth with bunch of chips and half of them fell on your bed.

"Yah!" You slightly slapped her arm before gesturing her to clean the mess as you hate your bed getting dirty but she still does it.

The scene came where Ji Chang Wook and Park Min young were getting dressed up for a mission together and that's when the door of your room opened.

"Why are you two still awake and what's this on your face?" Your mom barged in with her neverending scolding.

"Buddy! Come here! It's Ji Chang Wook!" Ria exclaimed gesturing her with her hands and your mom's eyes lit up as she skipped to your bed.

She always scolds you for being a fangirl as how every mother does but whenever Ji Chang Wook appears on the screen, she can't stay back until she see him.

Well, she was your mom for a reason.

"Show me!" She sat on the bed shoving Ria to the middle and watched the scene where he was walking out in a suit.

"Ah ha, look at you." Ria shot a smug grin towards her and earned a smack from your mom and you laughed watching until you got one too.

"What are you doing here?"

Your attention went to the door seeing your dad standing at the door with his folded arms.

"Let's go, I'm sleepy." He yawned and Ria nudged your mom with a teasing smile and your mom glared at her before walking out with him.

Your parents had a love marriage and it's been years to their marriage but your dad still can't sleep without your mother.

"Uncle is really romantic." Ria commented making you smile before she turned to you. "Speaking of romantic, is Baekhyun Sunbae romantic?"

You made a face at her question to hide your flustered state and cleared your throat. "Speaking of Baekhyun, what's going on between you and Chanyeol Sunbae?"

Ria's smug smile faded as a surprised expression took over and she blinked before looking at the laptop screen. "What's going on? Nothing is going on."

"Really? Are you sure?"

She looked at you for a brief minute before sighing. "We are hanging out and yeah I do have a little crush on him but I don't know how he thinks. I mean yeah, he treats me nicely but i don't want to think more than that so I won't get my hopes up."

You listened to her attentively and her words seemed just like how you used to think about Baekhyun but that's not always the case. To you, Chanyeol seems to like her but you don't know for sure until he says it and you don't want to give her any hopes too.

You just nodded and patted her back before cracking a lame joke to make her laugh which she did and continued watching drama until you both slept off.

***

(12 January)

Next day

You walked out of the classroom and Ria excused herself to the library as she had to return some books and you nodded while making your way to the music room again since you were called by your boyfriend again.

As you exited the building, you were stopped by a voice calling you from behind and it was Sooyoung. She was your friend whom you two besties getting close to slowly. She had asked for your notes as she got late in class and you lend your notes to her before she gave you a polite smile and walked away.

"Junior Y/n!"

You startled by the voice and looked further to see Sehun waving at you before walking to you. You smiled as he approached you and began to walk with you.

"So? You needed something?" You asked suspiciously and he chuckled fishing his hands into his pockets.

"Not really. But who was that girl?" He hesitantly questioned rubbing the back of his neck.

"What girl?"

"Uh, that, who just talked to you." He told stuttering a little making you look at him in surprise.

"She's my classmate. Park Sooyoung. Why?"

"Park Sooyoung." He muttered with his lips twitching in a smile and you gave him a suspicious look which he instantly noticed.

"Ah, thanks, junior Y/n. I'll get going then." He spoke and jogged away leaving you dumbfounded there.

You shrugged but then gasped slapping your forehead as you were going to meet Baekhyun and instantly sprinted towards the music room.

As soon as you entered inside, you were pulled by a hand grasping yours firmly making you yelp but relaxed seeing Baekhyun smiling at you.

All of a sudden, he twirled you around and started swaying your bodies together making you giggle at him. "What's going on?"

"I did it." You looked at him confused before he twirled you around and pulled to towards him with your back resting against his chest.

"I went to meet my parents yesterday and had a talk with dad too. And this time, we didn't really argue but calmly conversed and just like you said, he will believe in me and will root for me." He smiled, pecking your cheek and you blushed but instantly looked at him smiling.

"I'm so happy for you." You stared at him and he kissed your temple before resting his head against yours while his grip around your waist tightened.

You both were enjoying your moment but you weren't that lucky as the door burst opened and you both flinched making you pull away from eachother.

Boys came inside and Minseok was the first one to come in before he got startled to see you both. You instantly hid yourself behind Baekhyun being too embarrassed to face them as one by one they entered.

"Get a room." Jongin commented as soon as he stepped inside with an exhasperated sigh and you unconsciously held Baekhyun's forearm while placing your forehead against his back making him chuckle lightly.

"This is a room." Baekhyun replied to Jongin nonchalantly and you slapped his back lightly before slowly standing beside him avoiding eye contact with them.

"We also use this room." Kyungsoo snapped at him and Baekhyun rolled his eyes before they all started to tease you both which include your bestfriend.

You shot a glare at her before Sehun walked up to you with a smile sheepishly causing you smile back and as he stood in front of you, Baekhyun instantly blocked him.

"What business do you have with my girlfriend?" He crossed his arms over his chest squinting eyes at him and you rolled you eyes.

Sehun groaned. "Stop being a jealous boyfriend!"

Baekhyun looked unfazed while you shook your head before gently scooting him aside and faced Sehun. Baekhyun playfully glared at you which you ignored making him pout slightly.

"Yes, Sehun Sunbae?" You smiled and Baekhyun almost felt annoyed seeing you smiling at Sehun.

"So, um, that girl..." He stuttered out rubbing his nap and you almost laughed out loud at his nervousness while Baekhyun eyed him with concentration.

"You mean, Park Sooyoung?" You completed his sentence while acting innocent and his eyes lit up as he nodded.

"You!" Baekhyun exclaimed but you instantly hushed him with bringing your index finger to your lips and he frowned but nodded.

Then Sehun asked a little bit more about her and you told him whatever you knew and by the expression he had, he was going to make a move. Baekhyun was astonished and you wanted to laugh at his face.

Soon, you three joined the others where Chanyeol's and Jongdae's bickering weren't stopping and Junmyeon looked like wanted to bang his head on the wall while demanding to Kyungsoo to treat dinner as it was his birthday.

Ria being the extrovert girl was engrossed in their conversation and you were happy to be with them. They were becoming like your family now and all because of the person beside you who's smiling face is enough to make your day brighter.

***

(15 January)

10:12 am

"Gosh! I'm so late!" You exclaimed running down the stairs where your dad's head whipped towards you before he shouted careful and you just gave him a smile.

"Dad. I'm taking your car!" You shouted picking it from the wooden key holder and sprinted towards the main door passing by your mom who's hair flew back and she halted at her spot processing what just happened.

You buckled your seatbelt before your phone started ringing and with a huff you answered your bestfriend's call.

"Y/n! Where the hell are you?!" You pulled your phone away from your ear at her shouting before putting it back.

"I'm coming! Just overslept, but I'm on the way."

"Hurry up! The game has started now!"

"Okay!"

You sighed before starting the engine and drove off to your college.

Today was the D-day. Their last game of the year and you wanted to be their early for your Boyfriend and the boys but luck wasn't your side as you overslept and now you were speeding up.

The game has begun and the boys were doing well but Baekhyun's attention was somewhere else. He hadn't seen you since morning and you weren't even at the bleachers where he was seeing Ria cheering.

His mood was getting down by now as he wanted to see you first and to wish him luck but there was no sign of you yet.

You parked your car successfully and got out before running off to the basketball court. As you walked inside, you saw boys playing and the cheers were loud as usual before you approached your bestfriend.

"How's the game going?" You asked panting sitting beside her and she made a face before pointing towards the game with her chin.

The game was halfway to the end and the other team seemed to be ahead by few numbers. Your eyes automatically stopped at your boyfriend who looked exhausted and down somehow which made you worried.

You wanted to stand up and cheer loudly for him but since you were a shy person, couldn't bring yourself to do that.

Tapping your foot rapidly, you eyed him worringly and huffed before standing up.

"Screw it!" You muttered before bringing your hands close to your mouth and closed your eyes.

"YOU CAN DO IT! FIGHTING!"

You opened your eyes to see everyone staring at you, including your bestfriend who looked like as if she left the world and you just wanted to dig a hole and blurry yourself in it.

Baekhyun looked towards the crowd hearing the voice he wanted to hear so badly and there you were cheering loudly. His shook face suddenly changed into a smiling one and as if your cheer just recharged him, he began to play with diligently.

Suddenly, the crowd went crazy with cheers as the game got more tempting and it happened so fast that the game was now coming to an end.

As expected, your college won the match and everyone stood up cheering loudly with you both bestfriends smiling at them who were now doing a group hug.

As Baekhyun locked eyes with you, he instantly smiled widely before winking at you leaving you shook and Ria nudged your shoulder teasingly before they went back to their locker room to change.

You and Ria also exited and walked outside as you got a text from Baekhyun that they'll meet you outside since the boys would have lunch outside.

As they were out, everyone proceeded to go to the restaurant which Kyungsoo recommended in their car meanwhile, Baekhyun drove your car with you.

Reaching the restaurant, everyone occupied their seats and then Kyungsoo ordered the dishes as he was the one who suggested and everyone let him do it as he knew the best.

Not long before, the dishes were served and everyone began to eat while complimenting it.

Rowoon excused himself to get himself the side dishes and Ria took this chance to ask something as she knocked the table gently taking everyone's attention. "Have you guys noticed, Lauren wasn't in the cheering team today and I haven't seen her lately here and there too."

Your eyes enlarged at her point before giving her a nod as you both looked at the Boys who were having a nonchalant look where Jongin spoke."Of course she wouldn't be seen since she's too embarrassed to come."

You frowned and looked at Baekhyun confusingly where he just shrugged pointing at Sehun who smirked. "That day when she did that drama with you, Baekhyunee Hyung asked me to reveal her little thing about her bullying her juniors to principal and I think she's just too embarrassed to come now."

You and Ria had your jaw drop and Baekhyun giggled at your expression as he closed your mouth before Ria clapped giving Sehun a thumbs up. "I respect you for doing this. No wonder she hasn't showed up yet."

"And do you know that?" Jongin spoke smiling at Baekhyun and then to you. "Baekhyunee hyung was the one who asked Sehun to hack the college blog and deleted your video."

You looked at Baekhyun surprised who just gave a smile making you smile back before you shook your head squinting eyes at them playfully. "You guys are so mean."

Sehun gasped dramatically before looking at Baekhyun. "This is what I get for helping? I want my thank you."

Baekhyun rolled his eyes. "You have been leaching me off a lot and you still want more?"

You laughed at how Sehun rolled his eyes sassily before Rowoon walked in and everyone stopped talking about Lauren as you all decided not to bring her up in front of them and continued eating.

As Boys started to talk about the game earlier where they brought the topic of you causing you choke. A glass of water was passed to you by Baekhyun and he kept rubbing your back gently.

"Why did you have to bring that up?" You slightly whined and glared at Jongin who just shrugged acting like nothing happened.

"But it was definitely a scene to watch." Sehun snickered. "Baekhyunee hyung just started playing as soon as he heard her cheering."

You sighed hiding your face in your palm as everyone gave you a teasing smile while Baekhyun just chuckled stroking the back of your head.

"But why were you late?"

You looked at him smiling sheepishly. "I overslept."

He nodded. "Must be having a drama marathon."

You chuckled nodding before continuing your meal and he just shook his head smiling.

This guy beside you, surely knows you well and you weren't complaining too.

____________________

@wooya1224 @buttercupbbh @jddcfc-blog @usernameloaa

#bbh #exo fanfiction #exo ff #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun gifs #baekhyun imagines #baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #exo scenarios #baekhyun scenario

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writingtoforgetreality · 4 years ago

Text

Pancakes To Cure The Nightmares - The Devil´s Daughter Chapter Four (Lucifer Morningstar x Daugther!Reader)

[Lucifer-Masterlist], [The Devil´s Daughter-Masterlist]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Your first night on Earth ended with you having this recurring nightmare again. To your luck, Dan was right by your side and calmed you down. He suggested you to come with him to work so his team could help you further.

Words: 1,914

Warnings: Lucifer Season 5 Part 1 spoilers, nightmares (flashback in italics), sassy reader (we´re getting there y´all), I know right now it seems like a Dan x Reader but I PROMISE it isn´t

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Your night was peaceful. As peaceful as it had not been in forever. Though, at like 6 am, Dan was already in the kitchen, preparing the pancakes he promised you, he heard a piercing scream coming from Trixie´s room. Immediately, he left everything behind and sprinted towards you. When he opened the door, and thank God you did not lock it, he saw you writhing in the bed. Your face showed displeasure. Slowly, Dan made his way over to you, soft reassurances out of his mouth. Nightmares were nothing new to him. When Trixie was younger, she got them every now and then. The worst thing one could do was shaking the dreaming person awake. This could cause even more fear. Dan´s hands reached out towards your shaking frame, lightly touching you.

“(Y/N)? It´s me, Dan. You´re safe here. Nobody can hurt you. You´re okay.” he repeated these words like a prayer and after a short time you had stopped tossing. Your eyes shot open and you were faced with Dan right in front of you. The sight of him made you let out a small scream. Not because he was scary but because you kind of forgot that you were at his house.

“It´s alright, (Y/N). Nobody´s here but me.” his smile managed to calm you down. Your breathing was still irregular and your heart was hammering against your chest. Ashamed of what just happened, you averted your gaze from him. For a few minutes neither of you said anything. The only thing you could feel was a strong, warm hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Sorry.” was all you could bring yourself to say.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Everything. For invading your house and now for screaming like a crazy ang-um person.”

“Last time I checked, I was the one who invited you in. As I said, it´s fine.” Dan´s statement made you grin. He was too pure for this world. God would take a liking in him for sure.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he tried.

“About what?” your clueless expression made the man next to you chuckle.

“Your nightmare?” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. To you, though, it sounded as if he wanted to get more information out of you. In your defense, you were not the best when it came to reading people. It was not like you ever really cared about that. Not until now at least.

“Oh...just a weird dream. One that keeps recurring every other night. Nothing to worry about.” your smile at the end made Dan drop the topic.

“Okay, um. I´m preparing the pancakes I told you about yesterday. Meet me at the kitchen when you´re ready, yeah?” he stood up and walked his way over to the door but not without looking back at you. A small smile was written over your face, one that he copied. Then, he was gone again.

~nightmare flashback~

Your chambers were rather quiet today. Everyone had canceled on game night. Apparently they were all doing heavenly duty. Whatever that meant. Another day all alone. What would you be doing today? Overthinking? Daydreaming? Something like that. Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on your door. This knocking technique did not sound familiar to you. When you did not have much to do you started noticing the small details. Like how Michael always knocked four times. How between the third and fourth knock was a longer pause. How Gabriel kind of knocked the words “Gabriel is here” on your door. Or how Raphael used his palm instead of his knuckles. Or how God did not feel the need to knock at all. So who was at your door right now? Another angel, maybe? Highly unlikely, though. Before you had time to process, your door was swung open. All you could muster was a blinding warm light that made your eyes squint. After a few moments, when you adjusted to the brightness, you could see a red-ish figure standing in the middle of your chambers. It had broad shoulders that did not match the rest of its body. itshead, in comparison, was way too small. But wait a second. Its head. Were these horns? You had to take a closer look to assure yourself that you were not hallucinating. Its face was deformed, almost like it had been burned one too many times.

“Daughter.” a deep, manly voice echoed trough the walls. No. No, that was not possible. It could not be. Michael had told you about the Devil´s appearance and it came pretty close to what was standing in front of you right now. Besides, Lucifer was in hell. He was hell´s ruler and if he was here now then it meant that hell was without supervision.

“You really think you can hide from your true self, (Y/N)? You are my offspring. A little Devil. More sooner than later you´ll be just like me.” his arms raised in a convincing way, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I AM NOTHING LIKE YOU.” your throat was burning by how loud you screamed.

“Your wings are meant to do great work. You and I, we would be a great team. Torture is in your nature, like it is in mine. Give in, (Y/N). We both know that you want it.” Satan came closer to you, grabbing you by your shoulders and pulling you towards your door. No matter how loud you screamed, how hard you fought, no one heard you and you felt hopeless. No, this was not you. You were not like your father. You did not have any torturous desires. You were an angel, not a torturer. Right before the Devil could push you through the door you had never been through, your eyes shot open. Breathless and shocked of the images that previously danced in your mind.

~nightmare flashback end~

In the bathroom, you tried to wash away the dark images by splashing cold water in your face. That seemed to work quite well. You were definitely feeling way better than yesterday. A look in the mirror reassured your thoughts. Today, you were more like yourself. Hopefully, you would not scare Dan away by your sudden change in behavior. He would most likely understand it, though. When you exited the bathroom you were met with a smell of what you assumed to be pancakes. This would be your first time trying actual breakfast. Sure, you had breakfast in heaven but it was not actual breakfast. You were beyond excited to say the last.

At the end of the hallway you came to a stop and watched Dan in the kitchen. How he flipped the pancakes in the pan like he had never done anything else. The sight of him made you smile widely. Before he could catch you staring at him, you made your way over to the kitchen as well.

“Are you sure you´re a Cop and not a professional chef or something?” this question made him look at you with confusion at first. Looked like you did need that sleep after all. Dan could tell you were way more comfortable today.

“Chef in the morning, Cop the rest of the day.” he matched your tone. “I already put some on your plate. Maple syrup is on the table. I didn´t know how much you wanted on your pancakes.” he pointed to the dining area. You sat down where a full plate was positioned. Unsure of how much syrup would be appropriate you waited for Dan to finish the last pancakes. As he sat down opposite from you with his plate, you noticed his wide eyes, how proud he was of these pancakes. He was cute, really. How he got excited over the small things in his life. Dan was the first to grab the maple syrup and poured a good amount of it all over his plate. After that he handed the bottle to you and you poured just as much all over yours. The first bite tasted heavenly. Did you really use that word? During breakfast, neither of you talked much. You simply thanked him for his efforts.

“Do you want a cup, too?” he asked as he poured himself a big cup of freshly brewed coffee.

“Yes, thank you.” the confidence in your voice hid the fact that you had never even tried it before. There was a first time for everything, right? The first gulp was kind of disgusting but the more you drank the more you liked it. After you guys finished everything, you helped him bring the dishes to the sink.

“I´ll do them later when I get home.” he motioned for you to follow him.

“So, (Y/N). I thought about something. How about you accompany me to work today? We have a great team that could help you out. How does that sound?” the man was in his bedroom, searching through his dresser to find something suitable for work.

“Sounds good. Not to be rude or anything but...do you have any other clothes? There´s nothing wrong with them, they just look rather scruffy.” you stated without a second thought. Suddenly you heard laughter erupt the room Dan was currently in.

“There she is.” he chuckled while exiting his bedroom with dark jeans and a grey tight fitting shirt that hugged his muscular body.

“Didn´t even notice your muscles last night. Working out a lot, I see.” by now your confidence had fully returned. A blush started to slowly rise up his cheeks.

“Aren´t you a bit young to flirt with an old guy like me?” his left arm came up the scratch the back of his neck.

“I´m not flirting, I just like intimidating others. So...about the clothes?” you quirked your eyebrows as you remembered him yet again of your unsuitable outfit.

“Right. Give me a second. I think there should be some of Chloe´s clothes around here somewhere.” Dan ran over to one of the dressers in the living room, opening various drawers to search for anything that you could wear.

“Chloe?” you questioned.

“Trixie´s mom. There you go, that should work for now.” Dan handed you a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a white basic shirt. Grabbing everything you walked over to the bathroom to change into the borrowed clothes. They fit you surprisingly well. Taking another look in the mirror you started gaining faith again. Faith in the future. Faith in Earth. You were finally home.

“(Y/N)? We should head out or I´ll be late for my shift.” Dan´s voice could be heard from the entrance hall where he was currently busy with tying his shoes.

“I´m coming!” you answered while jogging towards him. After you put your shoes on you opened the door and were met with a warm breeze. Hard to imagine that yesterday, you were freezing and today you were perfectly fine with a shirt only.

“Ready?” Dan asked you from the driver´s side after you put your seat belt on.

“I was born ready.” the smirk that followed afterwards made him let out a low laugh. He was glad that you felt better already. Yes, you were a sassy one, one that kind of reminded him of Lucifer, but the only difference was that he genuinely liked you. And he definitely liked this version of you better than the one he was met with yesterday.

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (09/14/2020) by Cathy

Tags: @fandomqueen2003, @natashaashleymarvelromanoff, @severewobblerlightdragon, @tenderlyunlikelyexpert, @zoseph, @comicbucky-s, @dad-ee-drea, @xbarrjallenx, @marvelofwitch, @aceofspace95, @julessbrown, @thevelvetseries (let me know if you want to be tagged <3)

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nvvermore · 4 years ago

Text

Angel of Music

Beatrice’s vocal lessons with Amaryllis begin, and the both of them learn much more during these lessons than they’d ever expected to

words: 9k~

Amaryllis’s POV by me/Beatrice’s POV by @juliandev0rak

—

Unfortunately for Amaryllis, Beatrice was a good student.

It sounded like a silly thing to lament over, but it was easy for a good student to sniff out a bad teacher. So, Amaryllis needed to work extra hard to appear as natural as possible in such a position. It didn’t help that yesterday Nadia had also informed them that Beatrice happened to be a teacher herself. Not versed in music, but there had to be a method to these things that it was clear they would be missing.

She’d come prepared, with a journal for notes, water, and even mentioned she took time to practice last night. Despite her outward anxiety, it was clear Beatrice felt excited. But, her attitude didn’t change Amaryllis’s unpreparedness. So far, they had been improvising, banking on her lack of experience and their charisma to fill in the blanks. They were nothing if not an actor.

Now, the two had finished discussing Beatrice’s experience level, as never having had an instructor meant very little. Amaryllis never had one either and they were doing fine. That detail they left out though. But she was proficient on the piano and had a secure grasp on reading music, and had sung for fun her entire life.

Amaryllis stood from the chaise where the two had been sitting side by side. They held out a hand to Beatrice, whose eyes flashed from their face to the offered hand before taking it. Without thought, their thumb brushed over the back of her hand, her skin soft to the touch. As soon as she was on her feet she pulled away, and Amaryllis mourned the loss.

“An important part of singing is remembering your whole body is the instrument. You need to be mindful of your entire being. It may sound difficult, but with practice it will become second nature.” Amaryllis explains as they watch Beatrice watch them. Her hazel eyes dart away when the two make eye contact.

“First step to a session is to stretch. You want your body to be loose, especially your torso. Follow after me.” Amaryllis raises their arms above their head, stretching their shoulders. “Hold for thirty,” They instruct, looking to Beatrice for understanding. Though instead of stretching, she’s starting again. This time, her gaze is on the hem of their dress, where it’s ridden up due to the stretching. The already risqué length had become even more revealing, pale skin a striking contrast to their dark outfit.

“See something you like?” The taunt snaps Beatrice out of it, and her hands nervously dart to the clasp of her cloak. “That seems a little heavy, perhaps you'd like to take it off?”

“Ah, um, yes! Of course.” her fingers stop their fiddling to undo the clasp, and she slips off the garment and hangs it on the back of a chair. Now, it’s Amaryllis’s turn to stare. Sans-cloak, Beatrice is in a light-colored lace gown. It was modest— especially compared to Amaryllis— but not any less mesmerizing. Beatrice catches them staring and they do nothing to hide that they were, lips quirked into a sly grin. She clears her throat, eager to continue.

“So what exactly is the reasoning for loosening up?”

“Tension in your body puts strain on your muscles, including the ones used in signing. When that happens, your ability and range gets cut a significant amount. Proper posture goes hand in hand with relaxation. One can have the most beautiful voice, but it all falls apart if they’re holding themself wrong.”

Together, they finish up the basic stretches, and Amaryllis retreats to the piano. They finger out a simple scale a few times over, ruby eyes never leaving Beatrice.

“Sing for me.“

An inhale, a shaky exhale, and then she begins to vocalize. She’s very quiet, Amaryllis can hardly hear her over the sound of the piano. But they smile at her and nod, a small push of encouragement. Little by little, she loosens up, growing louder as they go through the scales. Moving up and down in octaves until they pass Beatrice’s range. Her voice is light and airy, ethereal despite the hesitation behind it. An impressive high range, and that was with no breath control practice. When they told her yesterday they'd make her into a prima donna, it had been to tease. But now they’ve heard her, Amaryllis thought it might not be an impossible feat.

Amaryllis ceases their playing. Still watching Beatrice, they could pick up on the subtle tremors that ran through her. She was doing her very best to be discreet in regards to her nerves. They stood from the bench to direct her to sit back down on the chaise, fetching water for her in the process. As she drank it down, Amaryllis fought the impulse to brush her hair back out of her face. The urge to comfort her with any touch. But they didn't know how such a gesture would be received, and the unusual desire to do so brought them discomfort.

“You have a beautiful voice,” their soft complement breaks through the silence. Beatrice looked at them with wide eyes, expression flattered and confused all at once. “It’s true. Right now, your biggest setback is your nerves, and that will fade in time. But the tension you carry because of it can create pitch issues.”

“Oh,” Beatrice whispers, voice trailing off as she takes in the information. Her mouth opens to finish her thought, but loses her words when Amaryllis’s hand is on her chin. They tilt her head up to look at them, the same way they'd done so yesterday.

“You should always accept a compliment as if you truly believe it. That way, one day, you will.”

“I-”

“Your voice is beautiful.” Beatrice looks torn, face flushed and Amaryllis can tell she wants to glance away from them so badly. But she doesn't, and they stand over her patiently while she finds the resolve they know she has.

“Thank you.” Her voice is steady, and while Amaryllis knows it's not likely she believes it yet, it's certainly a good start. Satisfied, their thumb brushes across Beatrice’s jaw before pulling away. They don't watch for any reaction, deciding they've maybe pushed her a bit too much already. Standing across the room now, they decide to get back to the actual vocal lesson.

“Now that I've heard you sing without any corrections, let's go over what exactly we'll work on together.”

The rest of the lesson passes faster than Amaryllis wanted it to. They go over breath control and pitch issues, how to practice and how to work the areas she needed to in particular. Beatrice was attentive, asked careful questions and took detailed notes. The next time Amaryllis had her sing she did so with a little less hesitance. Their own hesitance surrounding teaching faded too. It felt less like they were teacher and student, and more like they were having a conversation. Before they knew it, two hours had passed, and didn’t want to keep Beatrice any longer. Even if a persistent part of their mind said they did.

“Well, It's about time you gave your voice a rest. I‘d consider this first session a great success.” Beatrice stood a few feet away from where Amaryllis sat on the bench. She looked almost disappointed at the concept of the lesson’s conclusion. Glancing around the room, her eyes landed on the grandfather clock in the corner.

“Ah, I suppose you are correct,” her hands darted to where her cloak normally sat. When she found it missing, her fingers faltered. “So how often do you think I should have lessons?”

“Weekly will be best. Much of the progress you're going to make will happen during practice. And as long as you take time to do so each day, you'll see it in little time. But if you have questions or need assistance outside of lessons, you know where to find me.” Amaryllis retrieved their grimoire from the piano lid as Beatrice gathered her things. The green cloak resumed its place on her shoulders, and Amaryllis felt endeared by the quirk. Together, they made for the doors.

“Amaryllis, I,” Beatrice began once they exited the room, “I’d like to thank you. I never thought I'd ever take lessons, let alone ones from you.” The admiration of others rarely phased them, it was another aspect of their everyday. But Beatrice’s gratitude made them feel something unlike any kind they’d received before.

“The pleasure is all mine. You're a very promising student after all.”

“Thank you,” she said with the same conviction as she did after Amaryllis’s complement earlier. Feeling a sense of pride, they smiled at her, genuine.

“Have a good evening, Beatrice.”

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Beatrice shows up to the next lesson early, notebook and water in hand. She tries the door to the practice room and finds it locked, so she sinks down onto the floor to sit and wait. She’s just pulled her notebook out of her bag and is reviewing her notes from last week when she hears the now familiar sound of Amaryllis’ heels approaching down the hallway. She hurriedly stuffs the notebook back into her bag just as Amaryllis turns the corner. “Well hello,” Amaryllis smiles, offering their hand to help Beatrice up, “Need a hand?”

“Oh, yes thank you,” Beatrice takes their hand, trying not to seem too eager as she reaches for them. She lets go of their hand as soon as she’s up, not wanting to make things awkward by lingering.

“Shall we begin?” Amaryllis says, holding the door open for her. She sets her bag down on the chaise and takes her cloak off, not noticing the way Amaryllis watches her from across the room. Her hands go to her clothes, making sure her blouse is tucked in properly and fluffing the fabric of her skirt to make sure it lays flat. She takes a sip of water, a deep breath, and turns to face Amaryllis.

This lesson starts better than the last. Beatrice is less nervous now that she knows what to expect, now that she knows that Amaryllis is both a good teacher and a kind person. She hadn’t expected ridicule by any means, but hearing genuine compliments from them had made her both slightly giddy and a lot more confident. Beatrice loves to learn and if she simply treats these lessons as just that, a lesson, a chance to learn something, she’ll be fine.

As she sings through a few warm up exercises her eyes follow Amaryllis as they play the piano. They seem to notice her staring at them and look up to meet her eyes, causing Beatrice to falter on the note. She tries to recover from the mistake quickly but Amaryllis stops playing and stands up from the piano bench, taking a step towards her.

“You’re too tense again,” Amaryllis explains, their hands going to her shoulders to gently push them down from where she’d lifted them as she'd sung, “Relax your shoulders, remember what I said about tension and stress?”

“Yes, I remember,” Beatrice smiles, willing her voice to stay steady and her shoulders not to shake under their touch. Amaryllis returns the smile as their left hand gently moves further down her shoulder. They fiddle with the ruffle on her sleeve briefly before removing both of their hands and taking a step away from her. Beatrice breathes in sharply in response and tries to ignore the feeling of her sleeves pressing against her arms just as Amaryllis’ fingers had been

“You’re doing very well, Beatrice. Just relax,” Amaryllis says as they return to their place at the piano bench. She’s grateful that they’re busy shuffling through sheet music and can’t see the way her cheeks color at the praise. They start to play one of the songs she’d sung last week and nod at her to begin.

Beatrice makes it through with only minor mistakes but she still can’t seem to focus when Amaryllis looks up from the piano to watch her. She messes up words, sings off key, and even sometimes grows so quiet she can’t be heard until Amaryllis looks away. She struggles to fight against these reactions, deciding to stare at a spot on the wall behind them so that she won’t notice Amaryllis looking at her. It seems to work and the next run through of the song goes more smoothly.

During a water break Beatrice gives herself a pep talk, reminding herself that this is simply a lesson, something she can learn to excel at if she follows the rules. The reminder gives her some resolve and she’s able to focus her attention on singing rather than her (very distracting) teacher. As she sings she remembers to breathe and relax her shoulders, she tries to tune out everything but the notes from the piano. She hits a note she’d struggled to hit the week before and smiles in surprise. Her eyes float down from their safe spot on the wall to look at Amaryllis, who watches them with an unreadable expression on their face before it fades into something more neutral.

“That was great!” Amaryllis says, “Let’s do that part again to see if you can hit the note twice in a row.”

The lesson moves quickly once she’s able to focus, and before she knows it Beatrice is pulling her cloak back on and preparing to leave. She stands by the door for a moment, watching as Amaryllis gathers their sheet music. Though the sight of them still makes her a bit nervous, the feeling has faded from self consciousness to something else, something she doesn’t quite want to think about yet.

“You’ve improved since last week,” Amaryllis says, turning around to face her. They give her an encouraging smile and Beatrice meets their eyes, for once managing not to blush as they gaze at her.

“You think so?” Beatrice asks, returning the smile.

“You’re a very quick learner when you’re using that brain of yours to focus instead of overthinking,” Amaryllis replies, their smile turning into more of a smirk. Beatrice does blush then, laughing under her breath as she stares down at her boots.

“Yes, well, I’m working on it,” She says, fiddling with the closure on her overstuffed bag, “I’m glad to hear I’m improving.”

“You really are, just make sure to practice so you can remember everything you’ve learned this week.” Amaryllis holds the door open for her, gesturing for her to walk out before them. She suddenly feels like she should say something else, the lesson had come to a close too quickly.

“Amaryllis,” Beatrice starts, wondering what she should even say. Should she ask them if they’re going to dinner at the palace? Should she suggest going somewhere else together? No. Surely Amaryllis sees her as nothing more than a student, or maybe a friend if she’s lucky. There’s no guarantee Amaryllis would want to spend more time with her than is necessary, so she changes course, “Thanks again.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ll see you next week, Beatrice,” Amaryllis replies, turning to walk down the hall.

Beatrice watches them go, trying not to let her eyes linger in places they shouldn’t. Amaryllis’ tight dress leaves nothing to the imagination, and if Beatrice is being honest she has been imagining. She clears her throat and turns the other direction, headed back to the safety of the palace proper. It’ll be a long week waiting to see them again.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

“It’s impressive,” Beatrice comments one day, in the middle of a lesson.

“What’s impressive?” They hadn’t been discussing anything in particular, so it seemed out of place.

“The dedication you have for your craft, all the effort you put into it. And I'm sure I don't even know the half of it.” As she explained, Beatrice sounded composed, but her rosy cheeks gave her away.

Amaryllis blinked, somewhat stunned, though they gave no outward indication of it. They had already recognized that hearing praise from Beatrice felt different somehow. But since their lessons had begun, the flutter they felt when she did so had only grown.

“Please,” Amaryllis waved a dismissive hand, “when you've been at it for as long as I have, it’s hardly any effort at all.”

“You know, I recall you telling me a few weeks ago to, ‘always accept a compliment as if you truly believe it’.”

Beatrice’s words paired with the smug air she said them with caught Amaryllis by surprise. For a split-second, all they could do was stare at her. Being called out for deflection, with their own words, was unexpected from her. As they'd known Beatrice thus far, it was uncharacteristic. And so was their own delight at the notion Beatrice was becoming more comfortable with them. Recovered, they propped their elbows back on the piano, leaning back against it.

All Amaryllis could think of was different ways they'd like to wipe the smirk off her rose-tinted lips. They favored the concept of doing so with their own mouth.

“Do you now?” they mimicked her attitude, cocky expression falling into place as easy as breathing. Easier, even. “I hope you’ve been practicing that part of my lessons too. I’m sure you get enough compliments to do so.” At least, Amaryllis hoped she did, that at least someone was out there taking the time to cherish her. Instead of the bashful reaction they had been hoping for, Beatrice frowned.

“Ah, not usually, no-“

“That’s a shame,” they cut her off, stepping away from the piano to stand before her. Being this close made that flutter Amaryllis was feeling speed up. The last thing they wanted was for Beatrice to frown. And if no one else was taking the time to tell her all the sweet things she should hear, they were more than happy to step up. Accepting compliments built confidence, and confidence was vital to singing. It was simply another part of the lesson, that was all. With a gentle hand, Amaryllis brushed tawny waves out of her face, keeping her from hiding behind them now. “With how lovely you are, I had expected there'd be someone to shower you with sweet words."

Voice low and velvety, they ran their fingers down her cheek. Nails just barely grazing her neck before their hand pulled away. Beatrice wasn't frowning anymore, but was watching them with wide-eyed astonishment. For a moment, Amaryllis's resolve faltered.

They thought about kissing her, it would only take another step, a tilt of her head. But, what actually shocked Amaryllis is that they did not. Instead, as swift as they had approached, they were back against the piano.

Beatrice was their student, and so it would be improper to persue her...

…Which didn’t hold up in the slightest, because never in their life had they cared about what was proper or not. Student or not, under typical circumstances, Amaryllis would have had her in their bed by now. But that was it, wasn’t it? That nothing concerning Beatrice was at all typical. From their opposition to simply seducing her to their reactions to the things that she did. Amaryllis couldn’t recall a time when they’d felt this way before.

They had decided to entertain their intrigue when they offered her lessons. But Amaryllis hadn’t imagined that it would shift in the direction they were afraid it was heading.

“Thank you,” her breathy voice pulled them back into the room. It took them a second to realize she was thanking them for the compliment. Beatrice was biting her lip, watching them with those hazel eyes they couldn’t quite get a read on.

All they could do was turn away from her, but not before they could hide away their smile. Amaryllis tried to stay focused on the lesson, and not on the dangerous territory they were heading into.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

They’ve done more talking than singing, Beatrice realizes as she looks at the clock. It’s been an hour since the lesson started and they’ve been sitting on the couch talking the entire time, neither realizing how much time has passed. The topics of conversation have ranged, what began as small talk about the rainy weather had evolved into how they’d each come to be employed at the palace. Amaryllis doesn’t give many details, but Beatrice drinks in every piece of their story she can get and tries to ignore the urge to pry.

Over the course of the hour Beatrice has loosened up considerably, her posture is slouched and her legs are tucked under her as she sits criss cross on the couch rather than her usual polite ankle cross. She’s surprised to find how easy it is to talk to Amaryllis, how easily she can let her guard down to talk about herself more than she usually would. When Amaryllis asks a question she finds herself answering without thinking. They seem genuinely interested in her answers, leaning towards her as she speaks and asking follow up questions.

“What made you want to teach?” Amaryllis asks, their voice pulling her gaze back from the clock on the wall.

“Well, I never had a real education as a child, I learned manners and needlepoint and all sorts of useless things like that, but science, literature, history- everything I know I’ve learned on my own,” Beatrice explains, her voice rising in volume as it often does when she’s excited, “Vesuvia doesn’t offer an education for those who can’t afford to pay tutors, and I think that should change.”

“So you just marched up to the Countess and suggested opening a school?” Amaryllis grins, their eyes trained to Beatrice’s face which is for once free of any hint of anxiety as she smiles proudly at them. The image of Beatrice stomping up the palace steps in her green cloak with a look of determination on her face makes Amaryllis suppress a laugh.

“Believe it or not, I did! I requested a meeting and left less than an hour later to pick a spot to build the school,” Beatrice laughs, “Nadia wasn’t difficult to convince.”

“I’m sure you can be very convincing when you want to be,” Amaryllis says, reaching to play with the lace trim at the bottom of her dress. Beatrice watches the action closely, not pulling away when their hand briefly brushes against her leg. “Well, I suppose we should get started on the singing lesson, we’ve delayed quite a bit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Beatrice nearly trips over her dress as she gets up from the chaise.

“You have nothing to apologize for, I very much enjoyed getting to know you better,” Amaryllis replies, smoothing their clothing down as they walk across the room to the piano.

“I enjoyed it too,” Beatrice smiles, “getting to know you.”

“I should have you play sometime, I remember you being quite proficient during our first lesson,” Amaryllis says as they take their seat at the instrument.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not very accomplished anymore. I wish I had more time to practice the piano, but there are only so many hours in a day,” Beatrice replies, taking her usual spot standing next to them.

“Would you like to play something now?” Amaryllis suggests, patting the spot next to them on the piano bench, “I’m sure you’re great.”

“Oh, well, sure if you’d like to hear me play,” Beatrice hesitates for a moment before she takes a seat next to them, trying to smooth her dress down a bit so she doesn’t take up too much room on the bench. Amaryllis smiles and moves a bit closer so that their leg is pressed to hers, she can feel the warmth of their skin through the fabric of her dress and works hard to regain her composure.

“I would love to hear you play,” Amaryllis says directly into her ear, their mouth barely brushing against her skin. She manages to only shiver the tiniest bit as Amaryllis leans away from her again, turning their attention back to the piano. Beatrice takes an only slightly shaky breath and reaches for the keys. Her fingers pluck a familiar tune, one she’d learned when she was younger and forced to sit through hours of lessons every day. She shuts her eyes as she plays it by memory, tuning out Amaryllis next to her and the distracting ticking of the clock on the wall behind her.

When she finishes the song, a short piece designed more for practice than performance, she pulls her hands back into her lap and looks up at Amaryllis to gauge their reaction. The smile on their face is different than any Beatrice has seen before. It has more emotion behind it, admiration perhaps, and she feels a flutter in her stomach at the thought.

“That was lovely, Beatrice. I thought you said you were out of practice? That sounded well practiced to me,” Amaryllis laughs, the smile replaced by their usual expression.

“Thank you. I used to hate that song so much, it would get stuck in my head for hours and I’d find myself playing the notes in the air all the time like some sort of compulsion,” Beatrice sighs, her fingers flexing in her lap at the memory, “But I’m glad the torment payed off.”

“Well I’ll stop torturing you then,” Amaryllis jokes, bumping Beatrice slightly off the piano bench with their hip, “I think we’ll leave the piano to me for now, let’s begin the lesson.”

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Amaryllis’s fingers still on the keys of the piano as the song comes to an end. Beatrice’s singing was lovely— as always— but something was off. What, they weren’t exactly sure. The warm up went fine, she didn’t seem stiff or nervous in the slightest, and minimal issues with her pitch. She’d taken a breath or two at a bad moment, and at one point a whole note became a half, but neither of those were serious.

They realize that they may just be projecting their feelings onto her. A comment of hers from before had been bothering Amaryllis, much more than it should have. Beatrice’s anecdote about having no say in performing a song that she hated had struck close to home. Literally.

Beatrice had never given any indication that she was unhappy with the music they chose for her. But Amaryllis had never directly asked her what she wanted to sing either.

“Amaryllis, is everything alright?” Beatrice spoke up. Suddenly they realized they hadn’t said a word in the time since the song had concluded. There was a nervous edge to her voice, the tone making an unwelcome appearance for the first time in weeks.

“Yes, I apologize,” they stood from the bench, feeling the sudden urge to move.

“Is there, um, a problem?” Her words were hesitant, uneasy. When Amaryllis turned to her, Beatrice's eyes were downcast, focused on the carpet.

“Oh, ma chérie, no. You were wonderful, don’t worry.” The endearment had slipped out without thought. Bringing a hand to her back, Amaryllis ushered her over to sit with them. They felt uneasy, but maintained their composure, focused on how soft the satin of her dress felt.

“Sorry, I-” Amaryllis faltered. Their hand was still at her back, lower now, and as much as they longed to leave it there they knew they shouldn't. Not only was the gesture a little too friendly, but feeling how thin her dress seemed to be was distracting. “I’d like to ask, what kind of music do you want to sing?”

Once Beatrice had taken in their question, she relaxed, taking a moment to consider her answer.

“I suppose whatever kind suits my voice best?” She sounded uncertain, and her hazel eyes flitting back to the ground was a confirmation. Amaryllis was having none of that.

“Ah,” their hand came up to her chin, tilting her gaze back to them, “that’s not how this works.” The two were close, but not quite as close as they had been at the piano bench last week. As Amaryllis looked down at her, the rose-colored lipstick she wore caught their eye. They gave into the temptation to stare, for a little too long.

Amaryllis is back to the same dilemma as they had been weeks ago. They wanted to kiss her, wanted to see the color on her lips smeared and mixed with their own. It was the same conundrum, but it had grown far more complicated than it had been weeks ago.

They dreaded the conclusion of their lessons, and counted the days until the next one. And between lessons they’d started seeing each other much more often during the rest of the week. During court functions and other meetings, Amaryllis had found themself in Beatrice's company. They ran into each other in the halls of the palace— literally, one time— and when on stage they looked for her in the crowd. She was never difficult to spot.

As of late, their compositions reflected their feelings. Even inspiration for the masquerade came easy, knowing she'd be in that crowd too.

Amaryllis wanted her. But now, they wanted far more than a kiss or a single night, and not in the way they were familiar with wanting someone. Wanted to hold her hand, wanted to listen to her ramble, wanted to sing with her. Wanted to know her, and had even contemplated letting her know them in return.

But they couldn’t let themself. It was foolish— to be afraid of the feelings and to have them at all in the first place. In some ways, it felt like something of a betrayal. Beatrice had trusted Amaryllis to instruct her, not to fall for her.

Finally, they avert their gaze, torn to see Beatrice watching them with a similar longing. It would have been far easier to lean into her instead of pulling themself away completely. Even if Amaryllis knew she'd be receptive, they had to have some self-preservation. They knew it wouldn’t be enough to just take what they could get from her. It would be better to let the infatuation fade than feed the fire; it would hurt far less.

“Passion is far more important.” Amaryllis leans back against the chaise. “Doing what’s ‘technically’ correct means nothing if it's not what makes you happy. Singing for the sake of arbitrary rules will only bring you dread.” They're familiar with the way it feels to lose your passion, and the trauma of it was a deep-seated pain. Beatrice’s brow creases as they speak, picking up on what their insistence indicates. “So when I ask you what you’d like to sing, I need you to answer with how you feel.”

“I’d like to sing things that I can find meaning in. The song we’ve been working on, it’s beautiful, but I can’t relate to it no matter how I attempt to interpret it. Coming from me it feels insincere.”

“I may have something in particular you'd like.” The words are out before Amaryllis can even grasp what exactly they were deciding to offer. But they couldn't take it back now, not with the delighted way Beatrice was looking at them.

Without standing, they motion in the air, and their grimoire soars over from where it had placed on the piano. Amaryllis sets the book of music before them. With their hands on the cover, they whisper the incantation that unlocks it.

Beatrice had scooted forward, leaning in, but still far enough for her to pretend she wasn't being nosy. Amaryllis knew she must have a billion questions, and they would happily listen to her voice each one. But, she only asked one.

“What is it about?”

It was a simple question, but not one with a simple answer. That was why Amaryllis had written it into a song after all. Emotions and experiences were too difficult for them to express in a usual manner. If their feelings were to be expressed at all, they had to do so in a different way.

“You’ll see,” they left it at that, casting the projection spell for the piano. Sitting up straight, Amaryllis rolled their shoulders back, and began to sing.

The lyrics they sang painted the picture of a neglected child. The intense sorrow they felt. What they dreamed of to help them through each day. The helplessness that came when they realized the dreams were only that. Dreams, and nothing more.

With a final, shaky note, they looked to Beatrice. She was silent, lips parted and eyes glassy. For a moment, Amaryllis worries they'd upset her, but then she reaches out to rest her hand on their knee.

“Amaryllis, that was beautiful,” she blinks away the tears that had threatened to fall. “You’d trust me to sing that?”

“Of course,” they place their hand over hers.

“Then, I’d love to.”

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Beatrice wakes up groggily, rolling over in bed only to come face to face with a rabbit staring directly at her. “Oh, good morning, Bramble,” she says, reaching to scratch the rabbit between her ears. She winces at the sound of her voice, it sounds scratchy and her throat hurts a bit when she swallows. She decides to test her voice again, “Shall we get some breakfast?” it’s definitely still scratchy.

She worries as she goes about her morning routine, wondering if she’ll be able to sing at all later. She’s been practicing in all of her spare moments, and perhaps that’s why she has no voice left for her real practice. Still, work doesn’t stop for a lost voice and she has a meeting with Nadia in an hour so she clasps her cloak, grabs her bag, and starts the trek across town.

When she arrives in Nadia’s parlor, a prompt five minutes early, she realizes how winded she feels. The moment she opens her mouth to greet Nadia she knows she might really be in trouble.

“Good morning,” She croaks, pasting a cheerful smile on her face in the hopes of distracting the Countess.

“Oh dear, Beatrice are you feeling alright? You sound quite ill,” Nadia says, looking worried as she stands in the doorway regarding her.

“I’m fine, just a sore throat,” Beatrice replies, holding back a wince as her throat grates.

‘You don’t sound fine, I believe you should go home and rest. You’re in no position to give a presentation this morning,” Nadia’s tone of voice brooks no argument and Beatrice hangs her head a bit as she tries to think of a way to convince her. Beatrice doesn’t take days off, certainly not for a sore throat. “I shall have a servant get you a carriage.”

“I’m fine, really! Don’t go to the trouble,” She pleads, but Nadia simply shakes her head and points to the doorway.

“Go home, take some time to rest, Beatrice,” Nadia says kindly. Beatrice sighs and starts to gather her things, there’s no use, Nadia’s right. She can barely make an audible sound, there’s nothing to do but wait for her voice to come back.

As Beatrice heads to the Palace gates she’s so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t think about her lesson with Amaryllis. She all but forgets about it until she spots a familiar maroon haired figure approaching from across the foyer.

“Beatrice, you’re here early,” Amaryllis says, looking equal parts bemused and excited to see her.

“I was just leaving,” Beatrice rasps, “ Lost my voice,”

“Yes I should say you have,” Amaryllis frowns, putting a hand on Beatrice’s forehead as if to check for a fever. She stares at them wide-eyed as they deliberate and finally pull their hand away. “Does your throat hurt as well?”

“Yes,” She says, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can sing today.”

“No, I don’t think you can. You should go home and rest, you’ve been practicing too much,” They reply, they’re still stooped down a bit to meet her eyes and Beatrice finds it hard to focus with them this close to her.

“I’m sorry,” Beatrice manages to say, feeling terrible from the pain and because she’ll be missing out on a lesson.

Beatrice thinks back to their last lesson, the way Amaryllis had opened up to her and allowed her to listen to their music. She doesn’t want to miss another chance at that closeness, both emotional and physical. There had been times over the last few weeks where Beatrice could have sworn Amaryllis might kiss her. They’d stared directly at her lips, only a slight tilt of the head away from meeting her lips with their own. But it hadn't happened, and it never will, Beatrice reminds herself. Amaryllis is her teacher, and though they’ve begun to spend more time together outside of lessons she’s sure it’s out of friendly obligation and nothing more.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to your poor vocal chords.” Amaryllis straightens up to their full height and takes a step back from her. They seem to be deep in thought for a moment before almost hesitantly adding, “Go home, I’ll bring you some tea to help with your throat.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” Beatrice protests, her face already flushing at the thought of them being so concerned for her.

“Stop talking, you’ll make things worse,” Amaryllis says, “It’s the building on the corner by the hat shop, yes?” Beatrice is a little surprised that Amaryllis remembers where she lives, she’d only mentioned it once in passing a few weeks ago.

“Yes,” Beatrice starts, but at Amaryllis’ stern look she shuts her mouth and nods instead.

“Now go rest,” They say, red lips pulling into their characteristic smile, “I’ll be by later.”

When she gets home Beatrice kicks her boots off and changes into something comfortable. She chugs a glass of water but it’s too cold and burns the whole way down. It might just be her throat that hurts, but she finds herself quite tired. She’d refused the carriage ride home, deeming it unnecessary, and the walk back home had taken her longer than usual. She wants to take a nap, but if Amaryllis is coming by later she wants to make sure her house is tidy first.

After a quick speed clean, which she might’ve used some magic to do more quickly, she collapses into bed. What feels like five minutes later there's a knock on the door and she sits up with a start, hurriedly smoothing her hair down as she goes to answer the door. She holds her breath a little as she opens the door, seeing Amaryllis standing in her doorway is not a sight she’d ever expected to see.

“Hello,” Amaryllis smiles as they take in Beatrice standing before them in her socks and a simple tunic, so different from her usual fancy clothing. She fidgets uncomfortably under their gaze, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” They raise an eyebrow, and Beatrice rushes to open the door wider for them to enter.

“You didn’t have to come all this way,” She says hoarsely, watching as Amaryllis looks around her apartment. It’s not large, just the living area and a separate bedroom and bathroom off of a hallway. She’s glad she’d tidied before Amaryllis arrived, they’re used to Palace accommodations, and her little home in Center City certainly isn’t that.

“I took a carriage, it took no time at all,” Amaryllis replies, taking a small pouch of tea leaves out of their bag. “The coachman said you decided to walk, why would you do that when you were already feeling unwell?”

The question takes Beatrice off guard and she watches as Amaryllis walks into her kitchen like they live there, filling her kettle with water and setting it to boil. “It was unnecessary,” she responds when they turn around to look at her, “I didn’t need anyone to go to the trouble on my behalf.”

“If someone offers to help you, let them help you,” Amaryllis says, their face gone serious as they work to prepare the tea. “And it’s no trouble to take care of someone who’s always taking care of others.”

They look a bit taken aback at their own words and immediately turn their back to Beatrice as they pour the tea. Though she wonders at their reaction it gives Beatrice a chance to take a deep breath and rid herself of the blush on her face. When Amaryllis turns around they’re brandishing a teacup, Beatrice’s favorite though they couldn’t have known that.

“Do you have any honey? It’ll help your throat even more,” They ask. Beatrice nods and goes to the cupboard next to them, reaching on her tiptoes to grab the jar of honey from the back. Amaryllis watches her with a smirk as she manages to reach it and hands the jar to them.

“What tea is that?” Beatrice asks, taking in the slightly familiar aroma.

“It’s ginger tea, now sit,” They point to the couch in the middle of the room, “And drink.”

Beatrice takes the cup from them, trying not to react to their fingers brushing hers, and takes a seat. The tea tastes better than she thought it would, and the honey makes it sweet enough for her to actually enjoy. Amaryllis sits on the opposite end of the couch and watches as she sips the tea. She holds back a sigh as the warm beverage soothes her throat.

“I think you need to cut down on how much you’re practicing. You also need to take more frequent vocal breaks to rest, and I’m leaving this tea with you. You should have some after you practice,” Amaryllis says. Beatrice nods and continues to drink her tea, not wanting to interrupt their instruction. Amaryllis moves a bit closer to her and Beatrice turns towards them, nearly losing her grip on the teacup when they reach out to twist their finger around one of the curls that hangs near her face. Though she’s grown more used to their casual touches over time, she still finds herself flustered by how delicately they brush the lock of hair behind her ear.

“You’re making a lot of progress, Beatrice, but you shouldn’t push yourself so hard that you get hurt,” Amaryllis explains, their eyes locked to hers, “You need to take better care of your instrument.”

“I will,” Beatrice says in assurance. Her voice already sounds a bit better, and it didn’t hurt as much to speak. She smiles at the realization that the tea really had helped, and Amaryllis watches in amusement as Beatrice downs the rest of the cup like one would take a shot of alcohol.

“I need to get back for a performance tonight, promise me you’ll stay home and rest? If I see you at the Palace next week and you’re still croaking I’ll have to come up with something stronger, and it won’t be sweetened with honey,” Amaryllis threatens, but the smile on their face takes away from the effect.

“I promise,” Beatrice replies, holding her pinky out to theirs to make a pinky promise. Amaryllis stares at her finger for a moment before laughing under their breath and linking their pinky with hers.

“Good,” They stand up to gather their belongings and head towards the door, “Thanks for letting me visit your lovely home, I do hope I can make a return visit someday.”

“I hope so too,” Beatrice says, meeting their eyes for a moment before her eyes dart away to the bookcase next to them, something safer to stare at, “Thank you for the tea.”

“My pleasure, anything to help my favorite student,” Amaryllis smiles, dipping into a dramatic bow.

“As far as I know, I’m your only student,” Beatrice laughs, glad that the action didn’t seem to hurt her throat.

“Just take the compliment, Beatrice,” They say, opening the door, “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” She replies, but they’ve already shut the door behind them.

Beatrice makes herself another cup of ginger tea and considers writing Amaryllis a thank you note, it’s the least she can do. She gets to work, pulling out her special personalized stationery and her favorite golden ink. It takes her nearly fifteen minutes just to write their name, she tries to get the curve of the A just right, the y looped perfectly around the other letters. The actual contents of the note is short. There are lots of things she’d like to say to Amaryllis, and maybe someday she’ll get up the courage to do so, but for today she just says “thank you”.

She’d thought that writing the note might help her clear her head a bit, but when she tries to go to sleep she can’t stop the thoughts of Amaryllis. She thinks about the way Amaryllis had called her ma chérie last week, and how much she wants them to call her that again. She wants to hear more of their words spoken and sung only for her. Before she can help herself, Beatrice thinks about their lips again, bright red and so close to her own. Would it have been a mistake for her to have leaned in? Would Amaryllis have pushed her away or kissed her back?

She really needs to get over this infatuation. Even if Amaryllis had wanted to kiss her, it doesn’t mean they would want anything more. Just when she thinks Amaryllis is interested they take a step back, or they return to their calm and collected demeanor and the moment passes. Beatrice really doesn’t know what to make of their attention, their casual touches and lingering eye contact. She’s seen them flirt with others in the same way, it seems to be a facet of their personality to be familiar with people, and if that’s the case then what makes her any different?

Beatrice isn’t used to being treated like this. She’s not used to being told that she’s talented and pretty and full of potential, and though she believes their words to be genuine, she wonders if their time spent together means as much to Amaryllis as it does to her. She hopes it does.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

“So, what’s going on today that has you so cheerful?” Amaryllis asks as they begin to tidy up the rehearsal room now that the lesson had concluded. They're more than content to linger, packing their bag with little haste.

“I'm usually cheerful,” Beatrice fights a grin, acting coy.

“Especially so today. It certainly reflected in your performance. Now that I think about it, the past few days you’ve seemed so excited.” Amaryllis had been thinking about it, giddy each time they’d run into her and the dazzling smile she had on display.

Beatrice avoided their gaze, eyes mischievous, and Amaryllis expected her to deflect again. “It’s my birthday today!”

“Oh! Happy birthday,” they smile, full of adoration, “are you doing anything to celebrate?”

“I’m staying here for dinner tonight. A gangly birdie let it slip that Nadia may have planned something special for me.”

“I suppose that means I’ll get to see you at dinner.” Beatrice glances up, surprised, and Amaryllis attempts to suppress a laugh. “I usually dine here, I live here after all. Though, I often take meals in my room, but it seems that tonight is a special occasion.”

“Oh, you don’t have to come to dinner just for me, I’m sure you’re busy-“

“I’d like to. That is, if you don’t mind having me there.”

“Amie, of course not!”

For a moment, all is silent, both surprised that she called Amaryllis by a nickname. Beatrice looks like she’s about to rush to apologize, but their smile beats her to it.

“Then I’ll be there." Once the nickname sunk in, their face lit up— despite their attempt to stay neutral— and told her there was no issue. Beatrice nods, her demure smile doing nothing to hide how pleased she really is.

The two say their farewells for now, leaving in different directions. Beatrice, they assume, is off to get ready for a dinner in her honor, and Amaryllis is off to find a fitting last-minute gift.

After an hour, Amaryllis was approaching the dining room. A little late, but dressed for dinner and with a carefully-crafted bouquet in hand. They might have gone overboard with their gift, but Beatrice didn’t need to know. The arrangement they'd selected looked simple, but the meanings each flower held were far from it.

First, they'd started with violets, paired with sprigs of laurel. Individually, violets represented modesty, and laurel was for success. Together, they were for expressing that you were proud of the recipient. And Amaryllis was so proud of Beatrice. Their first real meeting all those months ago she was a ball of nerves, when it came to singing and being around them. But now, she had made leaps and bounds with her singing, and felt comfortable enough to call them ‘Amie’.

Then, the cowslip caught their eye. It was for gracefulness, and they'd decided it was fitting. Beatrice was graceful, even when she tripped over herself or her words, there was a certain charm to it. Even when nervous she always made her best attempt, and the way she lit up when she was successful. To Amaryllis, she was the portrait of grace.

Of course, it spiraled into dangerous territory from there. The buttercups came next, 'you are radiant with charm', they revealed. And when paired with the cowslip, they were often given as tokens of new and blooming affection. Amaryllis couldn't say their affection was new, but it was blooming into something far past a fleeting crush.

Finally, Amaryllis added purple pansies into the mix. They told themself it was simply to balance out the two bunches of yellow flowers, but that was a lie. Pansies confessed ‘you occupy my thoughts’, and gods, did she. So often they thought of her; when composing, when performing, during the day, at night, in bed. It almost felt wrong, how often their mind strayed to her and in the ways that it did.

The blooms had been wrapped together in cream-colored paper and tied with a violet ribbon. Amaryllis hoped the delicate yellows and purples would be to her liking. They also hoped that gifting this bouquet full of secrets would be symbolic. That they'd be handing off their feelings like they were handing off the flowers.

The dining room doors opened, and their worry-free façade fell back into place.

“She’s been taking lessons from a great teacher,” catches Amaryllis’s ear as they enter. To the side is what looks to be the gift table, and they place the bouquet down. It was Portia, with all her enthusiasm that they'd heard. She was at the center of the table, alongside Nadia of course, with Beatrice seated on her other side.

“Ah, well-“

“Gossiping about me?” Amaryllis stopped behind their seats, interrupting and startling Beatrice in the process. Instinctively, they place a hand on her shoulder to steady her, surprised to feel bare skin. When Amaryllis glances down at her, they regret it immediately.

She’s dressed to the nines, cloak nowhere to be seen. All they see is cream lace and tulle that drapes off her shoulders, and the satin corset hugging her frame. They’re at a wonderful angle to witness exactly how flattering it is on her.

Before they could be considered staring, they look away. But as flushed as she is, they doubt Beatrice missed the way their eyes dragged over her body. Her smile is bright, and Amaryllis is a little dizzy at the idea that reaction was for them. They certainly could dream.

“Wait, you’ve been instructing her?” Asra questions from Beatrice’s other side.

“Why are you so surprised?” Amaryllis shrugs, nonchalant, strolling away to their seat. They were well aware this news was about to be the largest scandal in Vesuvian history. Their lessons weren’t a secret, but Amaryllis hadn’t gone out of their way to mention it, and it seemed Beatrice hadn't either.

“I recall bringing up the idea of you taking on students last year. And I recall you declining, claiming you weren’t ‘teacher material’.” Nadia comments as they pass.

Lucio can’t help but join in, complaints ready as Amaryllis takes their seat between him and Julian. “I’ve begged you for lessons, and you always told me no!”

“That’s because you’re tone deaf.”

“Wait, I’m tone deaf, but we sing together all the time?” Julian adds.

“You aren’t tone deaf, you have trouble matching pitch on your own. There’s a difference.”

They aren't close to Beatrice at all, on the complete opposite side of the table, but they can see her trying to listen in.

“So Amaryllis, what prompted your change of heart about teaching?” Nadia asks them.

“There’s been no change of heart, I’m still not interested,” Amaryllis sips their wine.

“Then why is Beatrice taking lessons from you?” Julian butts in from between them.

“She stumbled upon a rehearsal of mine weeks ago, and mentioned lessons. I thought I would offer,” another sip, “I could tell she was special.”

“Is that so?”

Amaryllis makes sure Beatrice is still eavesdropping, her eyes wide and curious. “Beatrice is a very promising student. If it were up to me, I’d have her on the stage by now.”

Nadia turns to her, and the countess begins to ask her about it. Of course, Amaryllis's ability to hear what she has to say is cut off by Lucio and Julian’s bickering.

Dinner as a whole passes with no more awe directed at them for their, admittedly, out of character actions. They were thankful to no longer be in the spotlight for the night, it wasn’t for them after all.

After dessert— Beatrice’s favorite cake, of course— Nadia suggests they all move to the veranda. Amaryllis stands, but takes their time joining everyone else, finishing off their wine. Somehow, they hadn’t noticed Beatrice still in the room until her hand is on their arm. It’s just the two of them now, and her touch is a welcome surprise. Beatrice’s smile is radiant as she looks up at them through long lashes. In her other hand is the bouquet.

“How did you know violets were my favorite?”

“I didn’t, actually,” she glances between the flowers and Amaryllis. “I’m relieved to know that I chose well.”

“You did. Thank you, Amie. They’re beautiful.”

“They pale in comparison to you,” it’s cliché, and easily passed off as Amaryllis’s typical flirting. Even if now they mean it more than anything. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you,” she’s blushing, but her smile is proud.

“Did you know that violets mean ‘modesty’?”

“They do?” Her eyes light up, always eager to learn about anything. “Do the other flowers mean anything specific?”

“All of them do, and some of them mean something else when paired together. It’s why I picked them.” Beatrice’s brow raises, anticipating that Amaryllis will explain. “I think I’ll leave it for you to figure out on your own.”

“What!” Beatrice pouts, and her grip on their arm tightens. “But it’s my birthday.”

“And you love to learn, so it's the best gift of all.”

“That is a wonderful gift,” she laughs. “Then would you tell me what your favorite is?”

“I like Hemlock.”

“Isn’t that…”

“Highly poisonous? Yes, though it is safe when dried.” She stares for a moment, somewhere between confusion and amusement, then laughs again.

“How am I not surprised?”

“I also like roses. But don’t tell anyone, I wouldn’t want word to get out that I’m just a romantic, it’d ruin my reputation.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” her expression turns pensive, “are you really? A romantic, that is.”

Amaryllis shifts a little closer to Beatrice. The arm that isn’t graced by her touch reaches out, hand on her bare shoulder. They notice a heart-shaped birthmark that they hadn't had the opportunity to see until now. Fingers brush over it before ghosting down her arm, wondering what her reaction would be if it was their lips instead. As they trace her skin, Amaryllis feels her shiver, and it takes every ounce of restraint to not seek that out over and over. They take her hand then, pulling it to their lips to place a soft kiss to the back of it, leaving behind a red lip print.

“I certainly can be, when someone piques my interest enough,” their ruby gaze doesn’t leave her face. Beatrice stifles a gasp, and Amaryllis wonders what to do now, how they could just walk away from this—

And then, they’re interrupted.

“Birthday girl! You’re about to miss your own toast!” Portia leans in to shout from the doorway. “and you have to lead the song, or else Ilya’s squawking is gonna give me a headache.”

Beatrice intertwines her fingers with Amaryllis's, and then leads them outside hand-in-hand. The walk from the dining room to the veranda is far too short.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

#many beamie thoughts #if u read all of this... i love u #will smith poses at bea’s lovely writing #the image is concept art from the 2004 poto movie #beamie #beatrice viano #apprentice beatrice #amaryllis leroux #apprentice amaryllis #amie fic

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