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worldofkuro · 7 months ago

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXII

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Well, folks. It took us 22 chapters, but here it is. I was strangely emotional during this chapter, would you feel the same? I wonder... Please, tell me your thoughts!

You looked around you, curiously. You were in Alastor’s basement, sitting on a chair as he was preparing to invoke the last spirit he needed to bound your soul together. From what he told you, he just needed to talk with the spirit to finally know what was needed.

This week has been hectic so far. you had to prepare the wedding, writing the invitations once you had found the place where it would happen. You were looking for a cake, Alastor would like, and also other sweets for the guests. Alastor also had his own schedules, he was busy with work and the organization of your wedding with the mayor. You didn’t even manage to see each other that much, but Alastor would always try to come at night, even if you were asleep, so he could rest with you, two or three hours before leaving.

Which brings you to where you were right now. Alastor placed a cup of black coffee on a table with a cigar and wrote symbols with chalk on the walls. You bit your lips, you never saw another spirit than Papa Legba, would you be able to see this one?

“ Are you nervous?” Alastor asked, walking toward you. You tilted your head backward so he could kiss your lips multiple times. You hummed against his lips, stroking his cheeks with your hands.

“ A little. I’ve never seen another spirit… And this one, is supposed to be the one who controls death… This is a little scary.” You pecked his lips as he chuckled.

“ You don’t have to be there.”

“ I want to.” you smiled at him. “ Can you just… Explain to me who you are going to meet.”

“ Of course, dearest. Baron Samedi is invoked to contact and communicate with the dead, he determines whether they can come visit or not. He may be asked to remove bothersome ghosts and invoked to ward off death. He is a powerful healer. Baron Samedi rules the cemetery: no one can die until he gives permission for their grave to be dug.” He stroked your cheeks, staring at your eyes. “ I don’t know if you are going to be able to see him… “

You squeezed his hands with a confident smile.

“ Do everything so nothing could tear us apart.”

He kissed you deeply before walking in front of the table with the offerings. You bit your nails as Alastor began to talk. Everything was going to go smoothly. You didn’t know if the spirit could curse you because you were too greedy about each other.

You blinked when you felt yourself becoming dizzy. You tried to stare at Alastor as you saw him stumble. He was holding his head which immediately made you worry. You stood up and walked clumsily toward him.

“ Alastor…”

“ Are you okay, dearest?” You felt his hand grab yours.

“ Aren’t you adorable ?”

You both turned around toward the table where a man was smoking the cigar that Alastor had put on the table, a moment ago, staring at you with an amused smile. The genlteman looked like an older, dark-skinned man in formal attire, dressed completely in black. He was wearing a black top hat, black suit and impenetrable black sunglasses which were missing a lens.

“ You asked for me?” he smirked before sitting on a chair, taking the cup of coffee. “ Well, I already know why. It’s not everyday I see Papa Legba and Kalfu in the same room. How are you doing, my good fellows?”

You blinked before looking behind you and saw Papa Legba, smoking his pipe while staring at you, with his usual warm expression. His back was against the wall, seeming completely calm.

“ It is nice to see you again, little lady.” he nodded toward you which made you wave shyly at him. “ And it is nice to finally meet you, Alastor.”

You looked at Alastor who was staring at Papa Legba, his eyes wide opened. You didn’t know what he was feeling right now and that was stressing you out. You squeezed his hand in your but freezed when you felt a cold presence next to you.

“ Must be nice to finally meet me, right, little missy?”

You turned your eyes toward the voice and yelped when you saw a man crouching next to you, his red eyes staring at you with a mocking smile. He looked like Papa Legba but his frame seemed more muscular and his expressions weren’t welcoming like the spirit you were now used to working with.

You felt so…little.

“ Well, it’s nice to finally meet all of you, gentlemen.” You heard Alastor talk with his usual confidence. “ I didn’t expect to have all of you with us today, but it might be for the best.” He beamed at the spirits as he took a chair to sit down.

“ You truly have beautiful eyes.” you turned around as you felt your hair being touched. You looked at The Baron Samedi who was looking at you, still seeming amused. You took a step back before being tugged on Alastor’s laps. You looked down and smiled softly at his shadow which was frowning, keeping its hand around your waist.

“ You really didn’t change, Alastor !” Baron Samedi laughed before sitting on the table, smoking his cigar. “ I used to heal you when you were unconscious after your father was done punishing you, your Mother was always asking for my help, what a caring woman.”

You felt Alastor tensed underneath you. You stroked his hand while staring at the three spirits in front of you. You were lost for words, you didn't know which question to ask.

“ Well, it’s not for being healed that I called you.”

“ ‘I’ ? Boy, you didn't call me all alone. Your darling is also in it.”

“ Nonsense. She didn’t prepare anything to summon you.” Said Alastor, his smile twitching. You knew he didn’t like when you were with him and he didn’t have full control on the situation. But you were confused.

“ Why? Am I connected to Alastor in some way?”

“ Well, little lady, of course. If not, why would you be able to see me, summon me or even work with spirits?” Papa Legba asked you with his usual calming voice.

“ Alastor already created some kind of bond between the two of you, but you already saw it, right little missy?” Kalfu smirked at you, making you shiver. He looked dangerous.

“ What are you talking about?” You asked, squeezing Alastor’s hand.

“ When you asked for your soul to leave your body to see Alastor. Didn’t you see a red thread linking you to him?”

Your eyes widened. Was that the bond? But you and Alastor didn’t make the ritual. You just thought it was guiding you toward your fiancée, nothing more. You could feel Alastor’s stare on you, stroking your thigh, surely trying to calm you.

“ But… It was so.. weak?”

“ Of course!” Laughed Baron Samedi. “ Alastor bound you the first time he tried to summon our dear Papa Legba, he had a tissue with your blood on it. Blood is really important here. That’s why when Alastor summoned Legba, he went toward you because the first thing he felt was your blood.”

“ And then, I came in, because I wanted to work with Alastor. This boy has a lot of potential.” Kalfu smirked. “ It’s in his blood.”

You looked at Alastor who was still smiling but you could see conflict in his eyes.

“ Then, how did the bound apparead when I didn’t do anything to make it happen?” Asked Alastor, looking at the spirits.

“ Well, like Kalfu told you, you have huge potential. You could have created the bond, you already had summoned me and him. You made the first step but stopped when you made a deal with Kalfu for power. That is why, right now, your bond is half-made.” Legba said, inhaling smoke from his pipe. “ But now, your other half is working with me, which makes you, in a twisted way, work with me.”

“ But you told me you would cut our deal if I were to work with..Kalfu?” you asked, feeling more confused as time was passing. “ Alastor is working with him, and yet..?”

“ Of course, little lady. Even if your control on your spirit is impressive, it’s not in your blood. You can do all that because Alastor ‘tainted’ it. If he were at his most powerful, and your bond were created, you would have maybe half of his abilities. Your body wouldn’t be able to take more.” He said to you with a sad smile. “ You would lose yourself to the spirits and end up mad.”

“ Or dead with me!” said Baron Samedi with a laugh which echoed in the basement. “ I’m joking, Alastor.” he smirked when he saw Alastor’s hand clenching on your waist.

You looked at your hands, your spirit was already giving much more than needed to protect yourself and Alastor. You just needed another thing… You looked up to Baron Samedi who whistled.

“ Ooh, red eyes? Sexy~ Tell me.”

“ You said you had the power to heal, right?” You waited for him to nod. “ I want it.”

You heard Kalfu laugh like a madman while Baron Samedi was looking at you, up and down, thinking about your demands. He asked you why, in a more serious tone.

“ I asked Papa Legba to have power so I could protect Alastor, I don’t need anything more. I can protect him but I know I’m going to fail him one day, I need to be able to help him more if he happens to be injured.” You said, you voice firm.

“ So, you would want to work with me, for my healing capacity? You know, it’s different from working with Legba? You are asking a skill of mine. Papa Legba just gives access to a spirit to work with you, the spirit chooses when to go back, if Legba allows it, unless you ask him to leave. You’re asking for a power that belongs to no small spirits, the price will hurts.”

“ Then, she doesn’t need it.” said Alastor, forcing you to look at him. “ I won’t need this power, who could hurt me?” He asked you with his usual charming and confident smile.

“ Please… Having this would put my mind at ease…” You sighed before standing up, looking at Baron Samedi who seemed in deep thought. You could feel Alastor’s shadow rooting you in place. You looked at Papa Legba for advice. “ What are your thoughts?”

“ I think it might be a great idea. “

Your eyes widened, you didn’t expect that and it seemed like Alastor and Baron Samedi were as surprised as you.

“ Her deal with me is to protect Alastor, if she keeps this power for Alastor’s use, I would allow it.” He nodded. “ It doesn’t break any rules.”

“ Then, she needs to be able to heal herself too. You told me I would be able to use her abilities but it seemed like it’s not going to happen any time soon. So I need her to be able to heal herself in case anything were to happen.”

“ When you will be powerful enough, trust me, Legba’s protégée won’t be able to do anything against you. You could just use the shadow to bring her to you.” Kalfu smirked, staring at Legba with a competitive glint in his eyes.

You stared at Alastor who looked at you with an obsessive glint in his eyes. You bit your lips, being at Alastor’s mercy was… exciting. But you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“ So, I’m sharing my healing power with our little doll?” asked Baron Samedi with a smirk. “ Well, why not, I can’t wait to work with you. You shall be able to heal yourself and Alastor.” he stretched his hand toward you.

You looked at his hand. That was pure madness.

You shook his hand, staring at him.

You felt power invade you, swirling around you, making your hair move in the air. You could feel the energy going from your hands towards your eyes, it was a strange sensation. You were used to Legba’s warmth when you were calling him but right now, you could feel only coldness in your veins and your eyes.

You opened your eyes and looked at Baron Samedi who was grinning, holding a mirror in front of you.

“ A pleasure to work with you, doll.”

You looked at your red eyes which had now a purple hue inside them. You looked at Alastor who immediately took your face in his hands, staring at you. He frowned, keeping his smile, before wiping blood from your nose. You smiled at him to reassure him, you were feeling surprisingly great, exhausted but good.

“ Beautiful.”

You grinned at him, feeling your cheeks warm as he looked at you with so many emotions.

“ Well, before leaving. Should we talk about the rituals?”

You sat on the chair and looked at the four men talking, you couldn’t hear anything. You were so tired… You should close your eyes for a minute, it should be enough. You couldn’t believe it, you were now someone who could heal… You wondered what kind of injuries, you should ask them…

“ Darling, open your eyes.”

You opened your eyes and smiled at Alastor before looking around, confused when you saw the empty basement. The only thing that remained from the spirits was the smell of tobacco. You looked at Alastor.

“ Did I fall asleep?”

“ I’m afraid you did, dearest.” He kissed your forehead with a soft gaze. “ We should sleep.”

You looked at his face, he seemed exhausted too. You nodded and stood up, walking out of the basement, walking toward his bedroom. You took Eamon in your arms, signing in bliss. After all those years, your plushie was still there.

“ Undress, dear.”

You whined but undressed quickly, throwing your dress on his chair with the rest of your clothes. You bury yourself under the cover, trying to stay awake until you felt Alastor’s warmth against your back.

“ Is everything ready for the ritual..?” you asked, yawning.

“ Yes, you don’t have to do anything.” He kissed your naked shoulder. “ You just have to think about the wedding.”

You nodded before falling asleep in your fiancée’s arms.

—------

“ I’m doing her makeup, back off woman, back off!”

You laughed as Alice kicked off the woman who was supposed to do your makeup. You were in front of a big mirror in your wedding dress.

Today was the day you were to be wed to Alastor.

You looked as Alice came toward you to do your makeup and your hair. She had a big smile on her lips, her sapphire eyes shining with pure joy. You were touched that she was this happy for you.

“ I think we should do your hair up,showing off your neck and shoulders. You don’t have any hickeys, right?” She mocked you.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. Of course not, you and Alastor haven’t seen each other for three days straight. You have told him that the groom wasn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding or bad luck would be cast upon the married couple. He did laugh at you but you were now working with spirits so you didn’t want any chance with karma!

However, Alastor did send his shadow toward you sometimes or he would stay under your window and you would both talk without looking at each other. He did try to tempt you into giving up this silly traduction and just join him, but for once, you didn’t fall for his sweet words even if it was difficult. Alastor had his way with words after all, resisting him was very hard, and you did miss him.

“ You are going to look amazingly beautiful. You are going to take their breath away.”

Alice had a cute pink dress with pink and blue makeup, she looked beautiful. You knew Alyzée would just melt at her sight.

After a little while you opened your eyes and gasped as you saw yourself in the mirror. You didn’t think you ever felt this beautiful. Alice really had a way to show people’s best traits. You stood up and turned around when you heard the door open and smiled when you saw your mother and father.

“ Oh, my little girl…” Your father walked toward you and hugged you gently. You were feeling so emotional but you couldn’t cry, you didn’t have the time to redo it again! “ Yesterday you were still calling me your prince charming.”

You laughed, hugging your mother who already had tears in her eyes.

“ Oh, sweetie. You look beautiful. Bravo, Alice. She looks even more breathtaking than usual.”

“ I didn’t have to do much, really.” She waved her hand , smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes at her, smiling widely.

“ Is it time yet?”

“ Can I have just one moment with you before we leave for the aisle?” asked your father, taking your hands in his. You nodded, looking at your mother and Alice leaving you alone. “ I talked with Alastor.”

“ You tried to scare him?” you chuckled which made him laugh.

“ No, no. I made him make a promise. If he ever, which I don’t think is possible but, if he ever happened to lose feeling for you, I asked him to brough you back home. He doesn't need to hurt you because he lost feelings, I just asked him to take you home. You will always be my little girl, at your lowest I will be proud of you, at your best I will also be proud. Never doubt that you will always be welcome home as long as we are alive.”

You tried so hard not to cry. You were this close to tell him everything, about the murders and everything but you held your tongue. You hugged your father tightly, those words smooth something inside you, you didn't even know needed to be appeased.

“ I love you Dad.”

“ I love you too.” he kissed your forehead, wiping his tears. “ Ready for your future ?” he smiled at you.

You nodded, taking the bouquet before holding onto your father’s arm. You walked down the stairs, trying to calm your breathing. Your father put your veil in front of your face. You found that ironic. Everyone would see you with this mask on and the only one who was going to accept your twisted self was the one who was going to take the veil to truly see you.

Your father opened two big doors in front of you as the music started playing. You began to walk down the aisle, looking at the people around you. You smiled as you saw your mother wiping her eyes while Alice was almost sobbing on Alyzée’s shoulder. You watched as Mimzy gave you a thumbs up which made you chuckle.

And then you saw him.

Alastor was standing properly, his arms behind his back, his hair slicked back like you loved it. You couldn’t see much because of the veil but you thought you saw a curly lock on his forehead.

Your father stopped next to Alastor, giving you to him.

You slid your hand into Alastor’s, shivering as you finally felt his touch after three days away from him. You saw his hand twitched before reaching for your veil, before lifting it so he could see you. You smiled warmly at him as you saw his eyes widened as he saw your face.

“ Who blessed me with you, I wonder…”

You didn’t want to cry right now. You were just feeling emotional, that was it!

You turned toward Alyzée’s father who began his speech. You weren’t really listening to his words, all of your attention was on Alastor’s hand who was stroking your hands. You didn’t notice but it was time to tell your vows. You turned toward Alastor, your eyes already wet from tears you refused to shed.

Alastor was staring at you with a soft smile and a fond gaze. He chuckled when he saw your face.

“ I shall begin. We all know she is the most emotional between the two of us.” he smirked when the crowd laughed fondly. “ Dearest…”

You sniffed. There it was.

“ I don’t think I can recall a day where you weren’t at my side. Your voice is the best melody I can remember, your touch healed much more than any doctors could have achieved. You are the first who showed me genuine emotions, you never hide yourself from me and the most important… I never felt the need to hide myself from you.”

You felt your lips wobble.

“ You waited, dearest, you waited for me to open myself to you, which is admirable in a lot of ways. But what was more important for me is that you didn't run away. You accepted me.” he kissed the back of your hand, keeping his eyes on yours. “ You decided to put your trust in me even though what we share isn’t what you used to believe in, right?” he chucked as you nodded with a shaky laugh. “ What I’m willing to give you is much more than what you have ever read, ever seen, ever experimented with. Death itself couldn’t tear us apart, I swear it , my love.”

You sobbed, your head bowing as you heard the new nickname. You tried to find something to wipe your tears and thanked Alice when she gave you a tissue. You looked at her and laughed a little when you saw she was sobbing just like you.

You tried to wipe the tears without running the makeup. You looked at Alastor who stared at you, caressing your cheek.

“ I shall love you in the way you accepted. In sickness, in health, poor, rich, I do not care. As long as you are by my side, this life is worth living.”

You smiled at him, tears gathering once more in your eyes. You saw Marie crying as everyone was clapping after Alastor’s speech. You bit your lips before taking a deep breath.

“ Alastor.” you smiled at him. “ I always thought I would have to learn how to love, that is one of the reasons I began to read romance books. And yet, I don’t think I ever question what was happening between us. I did wonder what it was called, but I didn’t have to learn to love you.” You shakily took a deep breath as you saw Alastor beamed at your words. “ It was just like breathing, it was natural.”

You squeezed his hands.

“ Being by your side is just like an evidence. Every choice I made until today, I don’t regret any of them. My heart, my mind, my soul is yours. Hell or Heaven, I know that if we are together, no obstacles could bring us down. “ You felt tears in your eyes once more, your voice trembling. “ I love you so much, it might cost me my sanity, my love.”

You gasped as Alastor tugged you against him, caging you in his arms and squeezing you. You heard the crowd clapped as you hugged him as tight as you could. You took a step back after a moment, wiping your tears without running your makeup. You looked at the mayor who asked for the rings. You smiled when you saw your cousin’s child bring them with a happy grin.

You took the ring as Alastor did the same before sliding it on your finger. You did the same before taking his hands with yours.

“ Alastor Sanglar do you take as your wife, Miss-”

“ I do.”

You chuckled as the crowd laughed. Alastor smiled at you, his eyes shining with so much emotion that were just for you. You felt like you could faint from happiness.

“ Well, someone is eager!” the mayor laughed before looking at you. “ Do you take Alastor Sanglar as your husband?”

“ I do.”

“ I declare you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride.”

You smiled as Alastor tugged you toward him, kissing you like tomorrow wouldn’t exist. You felt tears on your cheeks once more as you held his face between your hands. You broke the kiss, staying near him as the crowd was shouting and clapping.

“ I love you, Alastor.. I love you, I love you..” you whispered against his lips.

“ I love you, dearest, in a way that no human would dare to love.” he whispered back, making you kiss him one more time.

You turned toward the crowd with a big smile. You looked at Alice who was clapping like her death was depending on it. Alyzée gave you a shy smile while Mimzy was winking at you, still giving you a thumb up.

You walked out of the town hall, holding on to your husband’s arms. You stayed on the stairs as journalists took pictures of you and Alastor. You laughed when the women were asking you to throw the bouquet. You turned your back to the crowd, closed your eyes and threw it.

“ Oh my gosh!”

You turned around and screamed in glee when you saw Alice with the bouquet. She walked toward you and hugged you, sniffing.

“ I’m so happy for you, sweetie.” she said.

You hugged her tighter before looking at the car, stopping in front of you. Alastor took your hand and guided you toward the vehicle before opening the door for you. The reception was going to happen in one of Alice’s father’s hotels, so you needed a car to go there but…

“ Is it our car..?”

“ A gift from Alyzée’s father.” he winked at you before you entered the car, Alastor closing the door behind you. He settled behind the wheel and began to drive until your destination.

“ I feel like I’m dreaming…” you sighed in bliss.

“ I don’t think I ever felt this… happy.” you looked at Alastor who almost seemed confused. “ Even killing my father didn’t bring me this much joy. You really are something, my love.” he smirked as he parked in the hotel’s parking lot.

Once everyone has arrived you all went into the banquet hall. You looked at all the tables and the band that was on stage, preparing themselves. You sat next to Alastor as Alice walked toward you with a piece of paper.

She did a speech, an emotional sarcastic speech. You almost cried when she was talking about your friendship with her and how lucky she was to have you in her life. You did cry though when she shed a few tears and once she finished her speech you both fell into each other's arms.

Mimzy also did a speech for Alastor, thanking him for being a friend , a gentleman she could trust.

You almost bawled when Marie walked to do a speech. You felt Alastor’s grip on your hand tightened.

“ Mon bébé… Not everything has been easy, I’m well aware. You always asked me what you could do to make me smile, to make me happy.Well, mon coeur, by being happy, you make me the happiest mother on earth. Je t’aime, quoi qu’il puisse arriver, tu seras toujours mon fils que j’aime.”

You wiped your eyes but almost sobbed when you saw Alastor’s eyes beginning to have tears. You leaned against him, sniffling. At the end of Marie’s speech, you let his hand go as he stood up and walked toward his mother before hugging her tightly against him.

You clapped with everyone as they stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes. When Alastor came back to you, you kissed his cheek with a soft smile. He gave you a vulnerable smile before taking your hand in his.

You looked as Alice’s father walked toward you.

“ Well, I do not know Alastor, but I know a woman who has always been by my daughter's side. No matter what was going on, she would take my daughter’s side. As a thank you, for being yourself, Mr and Mrs Sanglar, please accept as a wedding gift the house we wanted to sell.”

You almost fell from your chair as gasps could be heard around the room. Your eyes were wide open, you looked at Alice who seemed as shocked as you.

“ This is too much..!”

“ Please, it’s really a pleasure to give you such a gift.”

You looked at Alastor who seemed surprised too. He composed himself quicker than you and thanked the man, shaking his hand with a firm grip.

“ Well, now, we shall see the married one dance! Band, some music, please!”

Alastor guided you toward the dancefloor as a soft song began to be played. You danced with Alastor, never breaking eye contact with him. He was moving you against him until he made a gesture to the band who began to change the music, they were now playing jazz.

You smiled widely at Alastor as you both began to dance, twirling, being lifted in the air, under everyone’s eyes. No one could detach their gaze from your.

After a while, couples began to come dancing, you smiled when you saw Marie walking toward Alastor who gently took his mother for a slow dance. You danced with your father, his eyes still full of emotions.

You danced with Alice, with Alyzée, with Marie, with Victor, with Alastor. You danced until it was dark outside.

After a while you decided to take a break. You held your dress and left the party. You left the hotel, looking at the sky. You could already feel Alastor’s shadow behind you.

“ Mom, look, a princess !” You looked at a child who was pointing toward you.

“ No, she is a bride, my sweet.” she waved at you before leaving as you waved at the child.

You smiled as you closed your eyes, savoring the fresh air.

“ You look beautiful.”

You opened your eyes slowly and looked at John who was next to you. You didn't feel any anger, today was an amazing day that no one could ruin, spirits or humans.

“ Thank you.”

“ I…I’m here on behalf of my parents. Even if our friendship is no longer… They still wanted to congratulate you for your wedding, here.” he gave you a letter which you took. “ I’m not going to ruin your day so.. Goodbye.”

“ Are you going to finally leave Alastor and me alone?” you whispered but you knew he heard it because he froze.

“ … Goodnight Mrs. Sanglar.”

You watched him leave before going back to your wedding party. You smiled when you saw Alastor with a glass of whiskey , chatting with people. He looked at you as you entered the room, asking with his eyes if you were okay. You nodded before walking toward Alice who was drinking wine.

“ There she is ! Come on, girl ! You have your own home! Your own car! Your own husband!” she exclaimed while giving you a glass you quickly drank. You smiled at her.

“ I’m so happy I could faint.”

“ Please, don’t.”

You drank with Alice and Alyzée, even your mother and Marie joined you. After a moment, Alice and you went to the balcony so you two could speak. You weren’t sober anymore so you both were walking with difficulty which made you both laugh.

“ So~ Can’t wait for the honeymoon~?”

“ I don’t even know how I managed to not jump on him.” you giggled drunkenly with Alice.

“ Who are we talking about?”

You smiled as you turned around and saw a smiling Alastor.

“ We are talking about my husband.”

“ What a lucky fella! May I know what he looks like?” he smiled as Alice winked at you before leaving.

“ He looks… like sin.” you whispered as you stared at him. “ You shouldn’t be this close to me, you don’t want to meet his wrath.”

“ I’ll try my luck.” He kissed you, making you feel lighthearted. You grabbed his shoulder as you moaned his name. “ You’re finally my wife.” He looked at your ring.

“ You’re finally my husband.” you kissed his lips one more time as you both stared at each other with so much passion, tenderness, obsession, lust and love, it would almost make you faint.

“ I love you.”

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eyesxxyou · 1 year ago

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I saw one fic abt sucking hobies dick while he’s smoking a joint, and just imagine fucking him while high?? ughhhhh I’m melting rn 🙏

*ೃ˚ :💿 high sex with hobie

❝ warnings ❞ back shots, smoking while fucking, weed for all the sticklers, reader fucks themselves on him, save a horse, ride a cowboy, blowing smoke in reader's mouth, playing of Me and Your Mama' by Childish Gambino

Fucking Hobie while you're both high is a fucking mind blowing experience. It's slow and passionate but also so filthy. It's probably someone other than your bedroom, most likely the living room (whatever the equivalent of that on his canal boat is) because you two can't keep your hands off of each other long enough to get somewhere better suited for your activities.

Hobie would keep the joint between his lips, have you with your knees in the cushions and your arms against the back of the couch while he stands behind you. He has the ashtray on the curve of your back, tapping off the excess ashes while he fucks you from behind in slow, lazy strokes.

Occasionally he'll take it from his lips, hold it between his long, slender fingers, and exhale deeply as he grabs ahold of your hips and fucks you a little harder, dragging something of a needy cry from you, your back arching a little more. Your mind is all fuzzy, hazy. Your body is more relaxed, more willing to take him as he slides in and out of your creamy, messy hole.

But he won't do all the work, he'll stop, slap your ass, and tell you, "go 'head 'n take i', luv. Take wha's yours." Hobie would watch you fuck yourself on his dick, humming in approval as your walls stretch around him and tremble. "Look back, look a' yaself." He'd say and make you look back, watch yourself take the length and girth of his cock while the ashtray wobbles unevenly on your ass.

"Don' le' I' fall now. Don' wanna make a mess do ya?" He'd ask and tap off some more ashes, watching the way your bite your bottom lip and ease yourself down to sink all the way down the the hilt and take all of him.

If you're riding him, he'll blow smoke into your mouth and pass the joint between the two of you. Your eyes all red, staring into each other's. His large hands control the way your hips move, creamy wetness coating his cock in an white ring at the back of his length. Hobie's breathy moans marked by smoke that slides across your breasts. "Jus' like tha', my pretty baby."

Orgasms while high is like having an out of body experience. It shakes your entire frame, makes you feel like you entire world is falling apart and then piecing itself back together. Your nails dig into each other's skin, your moans are deep and rattle-y. He'll buck his hips into you because he simply can't help it, all those muscles spasming.

Oh and 'Me and Your Mama' by Childish Gambino is definitely playing lowly in the background, no doubt about it.

#just some thoughts #thanks for the ask!#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #atsv #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut #spider punk #hobie brown headcanons #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x gn!reader

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tomanyhusbandz · 9 months ago

Text

His Girl

18+ no minors

David x Black fem reader

Summary: David McCall spots you one day at the mall with your friends and find you the most intriguing. sneaking in your room, one night your father lectures you through the door, and David’s possessiveness kicks in, and he decides to stake his claim on you while your father speaks on the opposite side of the door.

Author’s note: yall know the drill straight off the top (of my head)

Black fem reader,smut ish, possessiveness,kissing,biting,smoking

Mini flashback

You had not to long ago moved to this VERY suburban neighborhood with your mother and father who where both big shot lawyers and it was really awkward for you and your parents but you figured since they had so much money it shouldn’t be a problem to blend in. You had made a couple a friends on your first day at the new neighborhood school shockingly everyone was trying to get a piece of but you’d just roll your eyes and go on about your day not wanting to be anyone’s token black friend, despite that you met Nicole and Lora and they seemed pretty chill then one day you three where out and about at the mall when you notice a group of guys. They looked sketchy too sketchy for yours and Nicole’s liking but Lora was a free spirit you where fiddling with your nails when you noticed the silent one staring at you like his undressing you with his eyes.

He smiled with his eyes mysteriously watching your every movement down from your Mocha brown skin,Chanel pumps and frilly socks to your short black plaid skirt showing just a peek of your bow tattoos behind your thighs and that oh so neatly short button up white dress shirt you tied at the bottom making your curves teasingly entice anyone you walk past. You were like a siren you already had him hooked and he didn’t even know your name yet it made his breath catch and his heart flutter just from you rolling your eyes at him.

“Lora come on les go .. before I slip over this one’s drool” you say pointing over at him with your thumb making Nicole laugh covering her mouth one thing about you is your very out spoken something Lora couldn’t top you in

“So it’s like dat .. I can’t admire your beauty without you insulting me I’m wounded baby” The sexy stranger says with a million dollar smile on his face making you mentally bite your lip he was the hottest white boy you’ve seen in this town with a Jersey accent to top it off, doesn’t mean you ain’t gonna play hard to get

“Don’t call me baby i ain’t no body’s baby you have to earn this .. your cute though ciao !” You say linking arms with Nicole and Laura making sure to swing your hips as you walk away

“Ha! Well I’m David what’s your name!” he says shouting biting his lip as he follows running he catches up silently behind you his eyes watching your hips like a cat clock

“Y/n and that’s all your getting” you say laughing at his sudden per suite of getting anything he can from you

“Oh my gosh hooked already and she hasn’t gave you anything” Laura says a bit annoyed but humored as you all finally make it to your Ferrari which you let Nicole drive because you’ve seen Laura drive and it wasn’t the best

David silently watches you all climb in before quickly grabbing your hand and helping you climb over the seats watching you sit you look up at him and his grin with a sudden charm, a dangerous charm like he was hiding a bit of malice behind it but you shook the feeling as soon as he leaned both arms on the car supporting his chin he laid on top of them.

“So you gonna let me take you out .. or I gotta beg” he says his eyes low lidded and dark something about that you liked made your chest burn from the inside

“Mhmm I don’t know as much as I’d like to see you on yo knees I’d rather not .. but yeah you can take me out” you say biting your bottom lip the car revving up in the background you both ignore that signal from your friends you grab your receipt and write your address down and number handing it to him

“Good I’ll see youuu tonight ? but before you go you gotta give me something” he says in a whisper you both close to each other’s lips your French tip nail tracing his lips

“Do I ?” You say leaning closer to kiss him then the car slowly pulls off and the girls cackle along with you as you blow him a kiss

You watch from the back seat of the low top rrari he stands in the parking lot smirking as if he won the game you to just played you knew he was going to be trouble but you didn’t mind it, it was more fun for you that way you couldn’t piss your parents off anymore than you have.

Mini Flashback over

Ever since then you to had been inseparable where ever he went is where you went and same went for you. But sometime you needed space and that’s when David’s controlling side came out and he wanted to argue or try and manipulate you and make you feel bad about going out without him but he gave up on that when he realized you were going to do what you wanted anyway. No matter what he did you wouldn’t leave him even when your parents disagreed about him you kept seeing him and when they grounded you, you snuck out or he snuck in you where down for him and he was down bad for you.

Currently you where both in your room after you where grounded for the six time for joy riding in your dads new bentley with David and his friends your parents think his a bad influence on you but you didn’t care. Music played silently in the background as you blew smoke from your mouth and into David’s while you straddle him he laid under you examining your face, you scored some weed from his friend for free so you both were just silently mellowing out in your room while David rubbed his rough hands along your soft semi naked thighs fingertips sneaking under your pajama shorts, This was promptly his fifth night sneaking in and you were sure your dad knew but again you didn’t care.

“What ? .. you starin at me” you said smiling while the blunt hangs from your lips slapping his muscular chest his yankee cap backwards on your head

“Nothing you just look good on top of me” he says biting his lip and slapping your butt then taking the blunt from your lips

You giggle at his response before he could put the blunt to his lips you lean down and kiss his lips. He kissed you back possessive wrapping his hands in your hair tightly making you wince a little but shiver at the same time before he released you and took a hit then blew it out.

“So Lora has these too friends that wanna buy from you or maybe get it for free buttt they say they don’t like yo creepy rockstar friend” you say trying to slide off of him but he presses your thighs down so you can’t move keeping you in place with one hand

“Well then they don’t need a buy from me .. besides you the only one getting anything for free cause you mine “ he says in a growl almost intimidating you but making you excited at the same time

Before you could answer him you hear footsteps outside the door sounding like expensive dress shoes which only meant it was your dad again coming to lecture you about making good choices and dropping David.

“Are you smoking in there ?” He says frowning from the other side of the door that smell was familiar to him it reminded him of back when he was a teen the same reason he didn’t want you around David because of the stupid things he did

“NO! Daddy please not tonight i get it okay” you say rolling your eyes you look down at David who sits up on his elbows whispering for you to come closer which you couldn’t say no to he got a kick out of asserting dominance on you

“ Don’t get smart with me .. im just hear to tell you im sorry i just want what’s best for you” he says taking a deep sigh laying his forehead on the door in frustration

“Mhm ..” you say throwing your head back as David nibbles on your neck licking over the purple mark he left from earlier now sitting all the way up with you still in his lap he hold your waist making you grind against him

“And so does your mother we don’t want you knocked up and throwing away your future for some psycho your my little girl i just don’t wanna see you hurt ” he says sounding as if his waiting for your response not being able to hear much over your music playing in the background

“Mmh Dav … stop his right on the other side of the door” but he didn’t stop David’s hate fire was fueled by your fathers hateful words towards him he was right, David was a sick but he was sick for you and you for him, he knew you where down for whatever he asked you to do even if it meant pissing your parents off.

“Mh so .. I hope he hears us just so he knows’’ he says slipping his thumbs into the sides of your shorts bringing them under your butt revealing your satin panties, as he watched your eyes shut from his rough yet soft nibbling on your skin, your back arched over the edge of your bed a little

“ k-knows what” you say out of breath for his overstimulating bites and groping

The bed creaking from his slipping you off his lap and taking off his pants revealing his toned legs then he slips off his jersey showing his toned abdomen and wide shoulders. he turns around and bites his lip at you as he watches you from the bed, lean back on your elbows with your legs wide open and your shorts fully removed and just your panties on. Something his always imagined seeing you in he had just been playing nice since the first day you met the little cat and mouse game you would like to play, and he wanted to wait until you were ready but he could tell by that love drunk look on your face you wanted nothing but him.

“What’s that noise in there … is someone there and you’re lying to me again y/n!!” Your dad shouts from the outside turning the handle but it wouldn’t turn David smirked again and went over to you standing between your legs you lay back and slide your hand down his toned chest while yanking at his boxers eagerly.

“ That your my girl .. “he says watching your hands yank at his boxers pulling them all the way down as your dad hollers banging on the door in the background making David’s revenge all the more sweeter

#imagine #fear 1996 #mark wahlberg #90s #imagines #x reader #90s boys imagines #90s boys #black reader #black fem reader

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the-empress-7 · 5 months ago

Note

Harry's reasons for falling out with his family change every few days, like flavour of the month. Depending on what he fancies (and maybe what brand of weed he is smoking up).

So far, the reasons Harry has given for the rift with his brother and father are :

- because the grey men specifically hated him.

- because he was the queens favourite

- because he was the spare and everyone only cared about William the heir.

- because Meghan was more liked, popular, intelligent, smart and more popular in Australia.

- because William and Catherine didn't welcome Meghan warmly enough

- because his father was horrible to his mother and then got married to the evil stepmother.

- because the evil stepmother was evil and he was the only one who saw through it, so they banished him.

- because William was jealous of him, because of how smart, beloved, heroic, handsome he, Harry, was.

- because he was ginger, and the world is anti-ginger

- because he was the only real, true, hero army soldier who caught in a war so both William and Charles (and the grey men) were jealous of him.

- because he was the only one who was truly empathetic and connected with the plebs, so they were all jealous of him.

- because he was Diana's true heir, so they had to throw him out of the country.

- because he started talking about his mental health and the royals dint want that.

- because he was full-blown mental and the royals couldn't have that

- because Invictus was so popular that all other royals were jealous of his most famous patronage, and all other patronages of other people were boring

- because all the normal people and celebs and tech people and war veterans and mummy's ghosts etc liked him more so everyone was jealous

-because Catherine was jealous of Meghan for her beauty and brains and normal-ness

- because Catherine was racist

- because both William and Catherine were racist

- because Catherine, William and Charles were racists

- because the BRF was racist towards the unborn Sussex baby

- because Meghan was friends with Oprah

- because everyone hated Meghan for being american

- because everyone hated Meghan for being an actress

- because William always stole Harry's ideas for royal patronages and Africa related work

- because Harry was better at polo and rugby so William was jealous

- because William always got more sausages and the bigger rooms at the places and everyone forgot harry

- because Harry wanted to break the generational curse of wearing suits and going to Eton and using cutlery and the BRF couldn't have that

- because the army liked him better so William was jealous

- because he was a helicopter pilot so William (an air force officer and air ambulance helicopter pilot, certified private pilot who still flies) was jealous of Harry.

- because the staff liked Meghan better so Catherine and willi were jealous

- because all the patronages wanted Meghan to be their patron so Catherine was jealous

- because the people and press liked Meghan and Harry better so Charles and Camilla were jealous

- because they didn't want their children to be raised royal so the BRf was angry

- because they wanted their children to be royal prince and princess and embrace their royal legacy so the BRf was insecure

- because the press was racist and the BRF didn't want to do anything

- because the UK public were racist and the BRF didn't want to do anything

- because the social media was racist and the BRF didywant to do anything

- because Meghan was suicidal and depressed and the BRF didn't want to do anything

- because the staff was incompetent and the BRF didn't want to do anything

- because the press always wrote horii le stories about Meghan for clickbait, to money off of her, and the BRF didn't want to do anything

- because the brf didn't want to correct false stories and issue statements as per Meghan's wishes

- because the BRF gave them shitty nott cott and then shitty frog cott, but not bigger, better, Apt 1A at KP like they did the cambs.

- because Meghan made better roast chicken, better lemon cakes, better everything than Catherine and so she had to be banished

- because Meghan was better at calligraphy and everyone wanted to see it, so she had to be banished

- because Meghan was serenas bff so Catherine and Pippa were jealous, so she had to be banished

I mean... I could go on. And this is just based off of whatever Harry and Meghan have themselves said at some point. Am I missing something?

Anon, it's not even noon here. Reading this made me want to reach for cocktail 🍸😭

BRAVO for putting this list together!

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tired-truffle · 2 days ago

Text

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.6k

Part 16/17

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt @dedicated2viktor (if anyone else would like to be tagged with future updates let me know!)

"Whether you come as a lover or an executioner, I am ready to receive you." - Agustin Gómez-Arcos

Curses by the Cranewives is a great song to listen to for this chapter <3

Masterlist

Clink, clink, clink, the Gemstones rattled together in your backpack as you ran. Eyes darting side to side, Caitlyn and the rest of her crew running with you.

You’d made a plan, a desperate attempt to avert disaster. Find Viktor, restore his emotions, help him realize the pain he was inflicting. You didn’t know what came after, but it didn’t matter when Viktor was still out of your reach.

Jayce had given you orders; stay with Caitlyn, let her lead you to Viktor’s arrival point, and then absorb the Gemstones, hitting them with everything you had. And you had a lot - after all your anguish and grief, the loss of almost everyone you’d ever cared about, your magic was itching to unleash itself. Viktor would be sending his robots - the bodies of those he’d once healed weaponized. The less you thought about it the better.

An explosion in the clock tower, retribution for Caitlyn’s attempts at shooting Ambessa - the Noxian leader - swiftly blocked by your shield, crackling with blue energy. With a nod of thanks, Caitlyn pulled out her telescope, spying on the carnage below.

She turned to you, face set in grim determination. “He’s here.” There was no need to specify, and with an incline of her head, you, Caitlyn, and the three enforcers assigned to her group - Maddie, Charles and Laz - were off.

This was your role, to stop Viktor, even as your heart beat arrhythmically in your throat, your stomach tight and churning, your magic crackling over your skin like lightning in a desert storm.

Bodies scattered the ground, spears protruding from blood-splattered corpses. Dust filled the air, large chunks of stone smashed on the ground providing coverage. You crouched between Charles and Maddie, Caitlyn taking point, peering out from behind the stone. She nodded at her men across the street as they gathered, ready to fight - to give you the opening you needed.

The image of Laz, arrow in his neck, body strewn on the ground flashed before your eyes. You blinked and it was gone, but as Charles pulled the safety pin on a smoke bomb, handing it to Laz, your magic surged instinctively.

You stood, but not of your own accord, palms splayed before you, creating a shimmering barrier of crackling, spitting magic in front of Laz as he surged to his feet, arm wrenched back to throw the smoke bomb. An arrow hit the barrier and harmlessly fell to the ground, followed swiftly by two more, and another. Though shocked by the suddenness of your action, Laz nodded gratefully, and threw the bomb over the barrier, Maddie and Charles following suit.

Green gas spluttered and billowed, filling the air with noxious fumes. Yet, before it blocked your vision, you saw it, Viktor’s cocoon.

Your eyes locked onto the metallic sphere, its surface a mesmerizing swirl of dull silver and muted violet, intricate patterns etched into its shell like a cosmic spiderweb.

The orb was tethered to a monstrous creature that lumbered forward with thunderous steps. The abomination was a hulking mass of misshapen muscle and oversized limbs. Its skin, a sickly pale grey, stretched taut over bulging organs and deep scars, vibrant purple lines pulsing as it groaned. The red of Noxus draped over its massive form in tattered banners and makeshift armour.

Before you realized what you were doing, your magic had reached out, desperate to feel Viktor’s presence, to reassure yourself that he was alive, just as Jayce had promised.

But the shell was empty, a gaping hole where traces of Viktor’s energy remained.

This was a trap, a ploy to pull out the frontline guard and distract from where Viktor had truly gone.

You cursed under your breath, and surged forward, grasping Caitlyn by the wrist as she moved to advance.

“Wait,” you hissed as she whirled around, vibrant blue eyes set wide. “He’s not there, it’s a—“

A hand on your shoulder yanked you back and you stumbled, only barely managing not to fall flat on your backside.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Maddie snarled, her teeth clenched. “You can’t just grab your superior officer like that.”

“Maddie, it’s alright,” Caitlyn began, hands raised to placate, but you didn’t hear the rest of her attempt at de-escalation. Maddie’s emotions rushed through her connection to you like a roaring wind. You weren’t sure if you’d reached out first, a hint of suspicion at the girl’s actions, or if the loudness of her zeal for Noxus control and order had called to you first.

Travelling through her intricate web of feelings was nothing compared to Vander’s, and you burrowed deeper, ignoring her sharp gasp and the tensing of those around you as you searched. Buried beneath her unwavering commitment, lay the tiniest morsel of guilt. She’d be hurting Caitlyn with her betrayal, and while it paled in comparison to her devotion, it remained a crack in her otherwise solid mask.

You held that seed of guilt in your metaphysical hands, feeling its potential. With a gentle touch, you began to nurture it, coaxing it to grow and flourish. Filaments of remorse spread through Maddie's psyche as you carefully cultivated her buried emotions.

Maddie's eyes widened, her grip on your shoulder loosening as confusion washed over her face. Guilt blossomed, her betrayal flooding to the surface.

Tears welled up in Maddie's eyes, spilling down her cheeks in glistening rivulets. Her shoulders began to shake as sobs wracked her body. She stepped back, her knees buckling beneath her.

"I'm sorry," Maddie choked out. "I'm so sorry."

She collapsed to her knees before Caitlyn, her head bowed in shame. Snot dripped from her nose as she wept uncontrollably, her carefully maintained composure shattered.

"Caitlyn, please," Maddie pleaded, her voice raw and stuttering between gasping breaths. "I betrayed y-you. I've been feeding information to Noxus, I-I am supposed to bring you t-to Ambessa. Viktor’s not in there, the mage is right."

Caitlyn glanced at you, her upper lip pulled back in disgust at the base display, but her eyes swam with confusion.

“I only pulled to the surface what was already there,” you explained with a serenity that you did not feel, your face carefully blank. “Do with that what you will, but he’s not here. I am going to find him.”

Caitlyn hesitated, her eyes darting between you and the sobbing girl as she grasped at Caitlyn’s boots, pleading for her forgiveness. The battle raged around you - the clash of steel, the thunderous booms of explosions, the anguished cries of the wounded.

Finally, Caitlyn's shoulders sagged, and she wiped a hand down her tired face. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely audible over the din. "Go. Find him.”

You didn't need to be told twice. With a surge of magic, you propelled yourself away. The wind whipped through your hair as you ran through the streets of Piltover, your magic reaching out, scanning desperately for any sign of Viktor.

You spotted a quiet alcove nestled between two towering structures and turned, slowing down as you slipped inside. The sounds of battle were muffled there, providing a momentary respite. You closed your eyes, trying to focus, to reach out with your magic and sense Viktor's presence.

But your power, wild and untamed, refused to cooperate. It pulled your thoughts in a thousand directions at once - flashes of memories long buried, glimpses of the battle, echoes of past regrets.

Gritting your teeth, you called a spark forth, letting it slip out of your backpack and into your awaiting hands. With a deep breath, you began to channel some of your excess power into the spark, feeling the pressure in your mind gradually ease.

The spark glowed brighter and brighter, pulsing with barely contained energy. As the last of the excess magic flowed into it, you slumped against the wall, exhausted and breathing raggedly. An irony taste coated your tongue, and you coughed, spattering the ground with flecks of blood.

"Shit," you grumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. But you couldn't afford to rest, not when Viktor was still out there, not when the fate of Piltover - and your own heart - hung in the balance.

You clenched your fists tight, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your palms. You could do this, you had to do this.

Closing your eyes, you forced yourself to take slow, deep breaths. The sounds of battle faded to a distant rumble as you focused inward, reaching out with your magic to sense the web of souls surrounding you.

At first, it was overwhelming - a racket of emotions and energies swirling around you. Fear, anger, determination, desperation, grief - they tore at your skin like fishing hooks cast over and over again. But you pushed through, your own desperation to find Viktor giving you strength.

Gradually, it began to take shape. You saw the souls of Piltover's citizens as glowing points of light, some dim and flickering with terror, others burning bright with resolve.

Noxian soldiers appeared as harsh, angular shapes, their souls hardened by years of conquest and conflict. You felt Ambessa's presence like a dark star, her iron will drawing her forces to her like gravity.

You pushed your awareness further, searching for that familiar spark, that brilliant mind that had captivated you from the moment you'd met. But Viktor's unique energy was nowhere to be found.

Panic clawed at your chest as you stretched your senses to their limit, desperately scanning every corner of Piltover. The effort left you dizzy and nauseous, your head pounding as if it might split open at any moment.

Faint enough that you hadn’t noticed it at first, a light tug at your awareness, a flicker of a feeling pulled your gaze up to the top of the Hexgate looming above. An urge, gentle yet insistent, pushed at your back.

There, you needed to be there.

You bolted from the alcove, your feet pounding the cobblestones as you raced toward the Hexgate. The towering structure loomed ahead, its golden orb gleaming even through the smoke and dust. Your lungs burned, muscles screaming in protest, but you pushed on, driven by that inexplicable pull.

As you neared the base of the Hexgate, you gathered your magic, feeling it crackle and spark along your skin. With a burst of energy, you launched yourself upward, your hands grasping at the intricate metalwork. You climbed with frantic speed, magic propelling you higher and higher, over flat surfaces and smooth stone.

The wind tore at your clothes, threatening to pull you from your precarious perch. But you held on, gritting your teeth as you ascended. Sweat poured down your face, stinging your eyes and making your grip dangerously close to slipping. But you couldn't stop, not when you were so close.

With a final, desperate lunge, you hauled yourself onto the top of the Hexgate. You lay there for a moment, gasping for breath, your chest heaving as you tried to recover. But there was no time to rest.

As you staggered to your feet, the air around you began to crackle with energy. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you felt a familiar tingle in your bones – the unmistakable sensation of arcane power building to critical mass.

You spun around, searching for the source, and that's when you saw them. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of robotic bodies standing in formation across the top of the Hexgate. They were beautiful in their own way, sleek forms of white and gold metal gleaming in the fading light as they blocked your sight. But there was something eerie about their stillness, their vacant eyes staring sightlessly at the sky.

They looked too similar to the rusted and dented creatures you’d seen in your hallucinations to be anything else.

The arcane energy swirled in bright purples and pinks, and you shielded your eyes against the grit as it coalesced into a whirlwind that spun around the golden surface. You braced yourself, magic instinctively forming a shield around your body.

The whirlwind reached a fever pitch, and with a deafening crack, it exploded outward. A shockwave of pure arcane energy blasted across the top of the Hexgate and down into the city below.

You held your ground, your shield flickering but holding as the energy washed over you. The force of it nearly drove you to your knees, but you stood firm, your eyes squeezed shut against the blinding light.

The silence that followed had you blinking the spots from your vision, carefully scanning the scene. As your gaze swept across the surface, through a gap in the robots’ seamless lines, a familiar form caught your attention. Jayce knelt in the center of the Hexgate roof, near a jagged hole that looked as though a large mass had burst through it. His broad shoulders slumped in defeat, his massive Hextech hammer positioned before him, its head resting on the ground, his hands gripping the handle as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality. Sweat glistened on his brow, his chest heaving with laboured breaths.

Your eyes locked with his for a brief second. You could see the toll this fight had taken on him - the anguish twisting his features, the flicker of despair in his once-determined gaze. This was a man pushed to his limits, grappling with the harsh truth of what his old friend had become.

Before you could take a step towards him, a flicker of movement above tore your attention away. You tilted your head back, eyes drawn inexplicably upward.

A figure floated in the air, twin strips of its cape fluttering in the breeze. Though his body had changed, his face obscured, you knew who it was like you knew your own bones.

“Viktor!” Your voice boomed across the expanse of robots, propelled by the force of your magic writhing in your chest, your lungs, your heart. “Enough!”

The lithe figure turned, hip bones jutting out, and all that fight you built within yourself bled from your pours. Tall and gangly, he moved with purpose and grace. Thin, too thin, limbs too long. No longer human, but machine and the arcane mixed into one eldritch being. The mask that covered his face - that beautiful face you could have spent the rest of your life contentedly watching - lay in slumber, serene and at peace. You’d seen it before. Glimpses in your magic-infused terror, the metal plate down the centre that hid the contours of his sleeping face, his eyes now perched high on his forehead, glowing, golden beads of apathy. He floated down, nonchalant and uncaring, landing behind Jayce.

Your magic surged, knocking the robots down around you like bowling pins. With a whimper you placed your hand on your chest, pushing down until your ribs creaked, shoving the magic back into its place.

“Milá,” the indifference with which Viktor said your name made you flinch, “what have you done?” His voice had become robotic, steady and tinny in quality, like he was speaking through a modulator. But you could still hear him in there, beneath all that armour, his lilting accent unmistakable.

“What have I done?” you balked, magic sparking between your fingers, a vibrant azure light shining from your backpack. The robots twitched and jerked as they righted themselves, movements inhuman. “Have you seen yourself? Look around, Viktor, look what you did to these people—“

Like a lingering dust in an abandoned room, you felt it, the robot closest to you tilted its head. Charlotte, her joy, her tender love, echoed in the sleek form. She was gone, only traces of her essence left, puzzle pieces scattered beneath a weathered couch. Her soul had been torn from its host and scattered amongst the stars. Gone and unable to rest. But she had been here, it had been her body, and now it was warped and used against her will.

Your chin quivered as you reached for her, the robot remained still as you trailed your fingers down the side of its face. “Do you even remember who they were?”

Silence greeted you, and then, “Their sacrifice will not be in vain.”

“You say sacrifice like it was a choice,” you spat, dropping your hand from Charlotte’s husk and rounding on him, pushing your way through the metal figures. They didn’t try to stop you, their expressionless faces turning to watch you as you passed.

“Choice is false,” he said, the words ringing in your ears as though you’d heard them before in another life, another universe. “It is influenced by untamed emotion, it is the cause of all division and destruction plaguing our world. The only recourse to be truly free is to remove it - the final stage in our glorious evolution.” He held up a hand and the robots moved before you could register it, grabbing your wrists and pinning you in place. You were only a few feet from where Viktor stood and Jayce knelt, watching you warily. “Your torment could have been prevented had I not succumbed to this madness. Once I have unified our minds, I will at last liberate you from the source of your suffering. You will understand, as I have, that this is what’s best.”

The remnants of your heart shattered, a thousand shards of glass piercing your chest. The words echoed in your mind, each syllable a dagger twisting deeper, sharper. Yanking your wrists to no avail, the robots’ grip too strong, you gritted your teeth.

“That’s the thing about choice,” you said, raw and rough like the weathered bark of an old tree, “it can lead to terrible suffering, but it can also lead to such incredible beauty. You once said that loving me wasn’t a choice, but if it had been, you would have chosen to love me every time. Do you regret it now, in all your infinite wisdom? Do you regret being with me when I’m…like this? Controlled by emotion, when you can’t fix my problems?”

You did not wait to hear his answer, the words tumbling from your chapped lips. “Because I don’t. I would have endured a thousand years of this just for one more second with you, Viktor. My love for you is a part of me, to take that away, to take any of my feelings away, would be to kill me. And I will always choose you, even if it means I end up like this. You are worth it.” You sucked in a sharp breath, holding back the tears that brimmed in your red-rimmed eyes. “But maybe, in a way, you’re right.”

“What are you—“ Jayce started, but you weren’t finished.

“This is partially my fault, isn’t it? I just couldn’t let you go, and in holding on, I pushed you towards this - hellbent on removing the cause of your pain, as well as mine.” Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, salt coating your tongue, but you refused to allow them to drag you down into the murky pits of your despair. “But I think…you couldn’t let me go either. That’s why you avoided me once you’d realized what you’d become. It’s why you turned me into this that night in the cave, and why you wanted me to give you the Hexcore instead of letting it tear me apart. It was all because you loved me, and you made that active choice to fight for us. But the Hexcore stole your humanity, piece by piece, and I’m so fucking sorry I can’t give it back.”

Viktor stilled, the hold his robots’ had on you slackening. If only you could see the emotion behind that mask, the animated expressions you loved so dearly; the crinkle of his nose in distaste, the soft play of a smile over his lips and the way it quirked up towards his beauty mark.

“I was…” he began, turning his head to the side as though seeing memories unfold before his eyes that had been buried beneath his suppressed emotions. “Unwilling to live without you.”

A chink in the armour, a small crack in his hardened shell. But Viktor had always been skilled at patching up broken things.

“It was an error I will never repeat.”

His hand reached out, fingers splayed against Jayce’s forehead, tilting his head back as light shone from his eyes and mouth - held in a silent scream.

“No!” you cried, a primal sound of anguish and desperation tearing from your throat. You couldn’t lose the last friend you had left, even if you both hated and loved him. Your magic surged forth unbidden, a force of raw power that shattered the robots' grip on your wrists. Their metallic fingers crumbled like ash, scattering in the wind as you lunged forward.

Time seemed to slow as you raced towards Viktor and Jayce, your feet barely touching the ground. Your hand stretched out, fingers spread wide, reaching for Viktor's ankle - anything to shove him off balance and release his partner. You were so close, close enough to feel the hum of his changed body, to see the intricate patterns etched into the metal of his mask. For a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to hope.

But hope, as you'd learned, was a fickle thing.

Before your fingertips could brush against Viktor's form, you felt cold metal fingers wrap around your wrists once more. More robots had taken the place of the ones you’d destroyed and they seized you with callous strength. This time, they didn't stop at your arms. Unyielding hands clamped around your calves, rooting you to the spot.

You thrashed wildly, your magic lashing out in erratic bursts of bright light. But it was no use.

“Your fight is over, you may rest now, miláčku.”

The once sweet term of endearment was now a grating sound, like nails on a chalkboard, in that robotic voice. It reverberated through your body, almost bringing you to your knees.

Something inside you crumbled. The hope you'd been clinging to, the desperate belief that you could reach him, save him, shattered like brittle glass.

Every step of this journey flashed before your eyes - the late nights in the lab, the focus on his survival above all else, the Hexcore and his numbed emotions. You saw now how each choice had led to this moment. The road to hell, paved with good intentions.

Your conversation with Soraka echoed in your ears. "Was I destined to lose him?" you’d asked. "You were destined to love him, for however long you had," she’d responded. Destined to love him, not to cure him, not to help him figure out a way to survive. The answer had been there all along, you’d just refused to see it.

You laughed, humourless and tinged with a manic edge. “You should know me better by now. I will never give up on you.”

As if on cue, a clattering trill pulled your attention to the slope of the Hexgate. A young boy with white dreads, and a worn brown jacket flapping in the wind, raced towards Viktor with lightning speed. His hoverboard hummed with neon green energy, leaving trails of light behind him as he weaved through throngs of robots. They grasped at him, but were met with empty space as he flew by, always a fraction too slow to catch him. As he drew closer and you saw the determined set of his jaw, the conviction in his eyes, it dawned on you; this was the Firelight leader you’d seen in your visions of Heimerdinger, if your knowledge was correct. Ekko, the Boy Saviour.

Viktor stood motionless, a dark silhouette, as one particularly agile robot scuttled over his shoulder. Its spindly legs carried it with unnerving speed towards Ekko, who banked hard to avoid its lunge. You held your breath, certain the machine would make contact, but the boy twisted at the last second, the robot's hand closing on nothing but air.

His victory was short-lived. As he attempted to circle back, a swarm of robots converged on him from all sides. They moved with eerie synchronization, cutting off every possible escape route. You saw the moment he realized he was trapped, his eyes widening in alarm, panic setting in as they lifted him up.

“Viktor,” you said, your voice reedy as you called his attention away from Ekko. He turned his head, an instinctive need to ensure your safety. “I wasn’t ever supposed to ensure you survived, that wasn’t my purpose, as much as I wish it could have been. I was just supposed to love you, and I lost sight of that somewhere underneath all my fear of losing you, of being alone.” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t waver. “I should have cherished the time I had with you instead of being focused on preventing the future. I will always want more, but not like this, not when it means you lose everything that made you, you.”

You were a steadfast and unshakeable force, rooted in determination and resolve like a mountain refusing to be moved. Nothing could stray you from this path, not now, not when you had one last fight still left in you.

He said nothing, face impassive behind the mask. But that he had no dismissive response had your confidence surging.

Until a robot snatched your backpack from your shoulders. With an effortless motion, it threw the bag up to Viktor, who deftly caught it with his claw.

“Stop!” you screamed. “Give that back!”

But it was too late. Viktor's claw unclasped the hook that had been keeping the backpack shut, and turned it upside down. A cascade of empty Gemstones came tumbling out, clattering against the Hexgate like discarded marbles. The dull sound echoed across the surface as they pinged and rolled away - there must have been thirty, even forty husks in that bag. Your sparks, freed from their confinement, zipped through the air, buzzing their excitement and filled to the brim with magic.

You’d never gotten into the habit of listening to what people told you to do.

You coughed, wet and guttural as Viktor's masked face snapped towards you. A grin spread across your lips like melted butter, revealing blood-coated teeth, and the tangy taste of iron filling your mouth. The robots' grip on you loosened slightly in response to Viktor’s surprise, and you swayed unsteadily on your feet as dizziness pricked at your vision.

Viktor took a step back, his body tensing. "You absorbed them," he said, his robotic voice tinged with what might have been awe or horror. "All of them."

You nodded, the magic coursing through your veins, an inferno barely contained within your fragile human form. It gnawed at your insides, a ravenous beast devouring you from within. Your skin felt too tight, as if it might split open at any moment, unable to contain the raw power you'd consumed.

Viktor's unearthly eyes searched your face. "Why?" he asked, and your magic pricked at the smothered smoke of his disquiet. "You know what that will do to a human body. You'll die."

"It was an easy choice to make if it meant it would get me to you."

Viktor’s unwavering gaze remained fixed on you, even as Ekko broke free from his robots in a blur of colour too fast for your eyes to track.

“I wouldn’t change anything about our time together, Viktor. I love you, remember that,” you whispered, bittersweet as you sobbed around an adoring smile, the iridescent lights of Viktor’s magic reflecting in your tears.

Ekko reared up behind Viktor, arm raised to throw a container filled with otherworldly energy that seemed to defy all logic. His face contorted in a scream of pure fury as he brought it down.

Not once did Viktor look away from you.

Your hand closed around his ankle and the container collided with the back of Viktor’s head. In a flash that blinded you, your magic billowed out, uncontrollable, and pulled you into its devouring orbit.

Next Chapter

A/N: I apologize for yet another cliffhanger, but it was just too much to put in one chapter! You'll be getting all your answers and the promised happy ending in the next chapter, but I'd love to hear your predictions!

#angst with a happy ending #fluff #viktor league of legends #machine herald viktor #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor x you #humour #mage #magic #hurt/comfort

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junedenim · 21 days ago

Text

2011

beneath the boardwalk, part 8 (series masterlist)

love is a laserquest

warnings: fluff, angst, fluff, angst

word count: 11.8k

I got a job at the New Yorker. Condé Nast moved me over as a staff writer. I'm not sure if it was because they knew my desire for the job, Fennel did some talking, I charmed David Remnick, or my piece in the Paris Review. I've never found out. Either way, it made an optimistic start to the year.

Alex took me out to dinner when we found out. It was a far more fancy dinner than our usual ones. He wore a suit because it was that kind of restaurant and I was the kind of girl who liked a man in a suit. I wore a navy-coloured dress with a cream-coloured cardigan.

We went to Le Bernardin where I never figured out how Alex managed to get a reservation so last minute. Alex and I began to talk about things we had never talked about before. Often when living with Alex in those years, we had the same conversations over and over again. I was never bored by them but I never learned much about the history of Alex and I knew he knew little of me other than context clues.

He told me of his childhood basketball games and I laughed at tiny Alex trying to shoot 3 meters off the ground. "We were awful," he said, "like really bad. I was okay but only because everyone else was really awful."

I giggled and sipped on my white wine. "I can't picture you sporty. You've always seemed scrawny to me."

"Hey. I work out," he defended.

It made me laugh again. "Maybe now but I've seen pictures of you young. You could have snapped in half."

"Most basketball players aren't buff," he reasoned.

I countered, "Most are over 6 feet tall."

Alex always worried about overstepping. I believe I had previously scarred him with off-the-cuff recountings of my childhood. Alex didn't even know how Tommy died. He was scared to ask and I never wanted to touch the subject. He retreated to the nonsense and we talked about the days when I played football.

"Now, you," he pointed his finger at me, "you are not sporty."

I laughed with my wine. "That's why I only did it for a week."

The days were so short in that January. We had celebrated his birthday in Sheffield. It would be the last time he would stay home for his birthday. The following years got tricky for him to make it home and by the time he could, he had grown up and gone so long without it that the idea of returning home felt childish.

When we returned I started my new job and Al returned to Los Angeles. He asked me about it. He cited that it was a good meeting point for all the guys for making a record. He reasoned that I didn't have to come. He promised that it would be a short amount of time. He swore I wouldn't even notice he was gone.

Truthfully, I didn't care much. Maybe if he had left for months but he was gone for five weeks. It wasn't much different than touring, in fact, it was easier because he was always in the same place. He asked me if I was okay with it and for that I noticed and appreciated his matured abilities in communication. I preferred not to go with him. I wasn't uprooted from my life and, in New York, I had found an occupation in both labour and leisure. I don't care whether he came or left. That should have shocked me more but it didn't. Life was too quick for me to care.

I acquired a group of friends that felt like my own circle of beatniks and lost generation writers, although that was mostly my fantasization of them. We drank, we smoked, we doped, but nobody shot their wife or was "going mad" from my knowledge. It often felt like elders embarking wisdom onto the youth. That wisdom was usually through buckets of liquor and the faux elegance of smoking a cigarette in between a small dinner and an even tinier dessert. But I liked it a lot.

Before Alex left, the band came to New York and we had a little party with some of their friends. It was a lowkey affair for the most part. We mostly drank and chatted. It didn't feel right to invite any of my friends to this dirty British fun, even if a few Americans slipped by the door. It was the only "party" Alex held in that apartment but it was probably the best we had. It felt nostalgic.

Alex and I sat in front of the couch with his arm around me while Jamie attempted to balance a glass on his head. We were all drunk and with no sober thoughts there wasn't much logic to letting a clumsy guy balance a glass of liquor atop his head.

It crashed to the floor, spreading out across our feet. It should have been tragic and mildly painful as Jamie proceeded to step in a piece and cut his foot, but all of us, even a bleeding Jamie were laughing.

I tucked my head into Alex's shoulder, struggling to breathe with how hard I was laughing. His arm hugged around me and he was a cushion to fall asleep on. I felt warm from the alcohol but he felt even warmer in that January chill.

Alex got up to sweep up the mess and I fooled around with Katie, grabbing a tambourine and smacking it against my hand. It was a racket and not very pleasing to the ear but Katie and I were laughing too hard to put any care into it. Both of us were very musically inept.

"I feel like we're in Will's basement," I told them. "Feels just as childish as then."

Jamie laughed. "I guess we haven't grown much." Or maybe it was just the alcohol that brought us back to those states. But, to me, it was the idea that whenever we were with each other like this, we would regress back to the ways we met. The behaviours we exhibited when we first bonded.

"Time goes by, I suppose," I sighed and rested my head on Katie's shoulder. Matt pulled the glass out of Jamie's foot, Alex got him a bandage, and Nick poured him another glass.

I don't know much of what went down in LA with Alex. He wasn't one to open up without prompting and I wasn't one to talk about anyone but myself in those days. He gave me pieces but I imagined he was in the studio most of the time, which wasn't wrong.

He returned halfway through February and things resumed as they were. I went to work. He stayed home. We often went out for dinner with those from my circle. Alex had befriended some of them and it wasn't like he talked much during dinner anyway.

At the tail-end of February, there was a dinner somewhere on the Upper West Side. I can't place where but I had red wine and chicken, I remember that much. Neither the food nor the restaurant is very important here, but Alex got white wine and steak. I don't think he liked either.

The group would fluctuate between obsessing over Alex and ignoring him. He didn't like the former, he appreciated the latter. They were yapping on about something when I turned to Alex, whispering, "Isn't this right old fun?"

He pursed his lips and nodded.

I rolled my eyes and ignored him for the rest of dinner.

When we finished dinner, someone suggested continuing the night with drinks. Alex tugged on my coat like he was a little child who stood nothing above three feet tall. I looked over at him and he just stared at me. I frowned then he frowned. I wasn't sure what we were saying to one another. I wasn't sure if we were joking around or fighting. We passed on drinks and walked in the opposite direction.

"You don't want to have fun," I whined, tugging on his arm. He was stiff-figured with his hands in his pockets. He had all the signs of a man but looked to be about 17 and shy. "You don't want to drink, you don't want to talk. They think you're sullen."

Alex chuckled. "Aren't I?"

I tucked my arms away from him and moved over on the street, furthering the gap between our brushing bodies. "You like people to think that but it comes off as rude."

He shrugged. "Sorry." Not apologetically, just uncaring.

We stopped at a light. I lit a cigarette and he tapped his shoe on the cement. "What's got you down, blue boy?" I laughed in the moment thinking of the closeness in pronunciation to blue balls.

Something cracked within him, realigning the figure of him. He stood taller, dropped his hands out of his pockets, and slung an arm around me. "Just missed you." His hand reached out and pushed the strands back.

My face felt cluttered and my cigarette-yielding hand felt full. I took it up to my lips, edged it right on the bottom of it. "If you missed me so much, why don't you kiss me?" I trapped the cigarette and blew smoke into his face.

He laughed at me, let go, and moved across the street. I was stuck on the sidewalk, left to chase after him. He was still laughing when I caught up to him. "What? What?" I never found out what he was laughing at, he just kissed me, all bright and smiling, teeth colliding.

We went home and I undressed and showered. Alex did something, I'm not sure, but when I left the bathroom, he was in bed reading. I sought refuge in the covers, the chill of the air burning my skin. I scooted closer to him, tightened a grasp on his arm, and leaned my head on him. I was in perfect sight of the book but didn't bother to read it, instead tapping on his upper arm.

"Yes?" He didn't look up from the page but I spotted the cheeky grin spread on his lips.

My finger stroked the corner of it. "Nothing."

He chuckled. "You want something."

I leaned back onto the headboard. "Why do you always think that? Maybe I just want to look at you."

He laughed again. "Well, you answered your question there."

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know." His eyes stayed on his book, flipping a page, somehow reading through all my talking.

I shelved my head on his shoulder. "Are you bored?"

His eyes escaped the page momentarily before returning. "No. I'm reading."

"Okay." I left it at that but I worried that we were leaving one another behind. It might have been a typical thing for other couples but it was weird to have intimate separation from one another. I mean, sure there was having sex but it wasn't often that Alex and I went to bed in these different junctions. He felt stiff and awkward as of late and not just with other people. He was reading a book in bed.

I slumped further into bed. "What do you want to do tomorrow?"

"I don't know." He waited, thought some, and asked, "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," I replied. I waited. "Should call Stacey." I waited and felt the sinking in my stomach as we seemed to stay still. "I have the weirdest feeling."

"Your dad's fine." The book stayed open and his eyes followed the sentences to an impeccable degree. It was impressive and confusing, perplexing, but no longer infuriating. It was so strange.

I played with my fingers, tapping them on my stomach, picking at my shirt, and debating what to say and whether to say it. But I vowed to myself to talk to Alex and so I did. "I miss you. I miss you and you're right here."

I had no clue what he would say. I thought I might have been left with silence or a kiss or a question, some form of confusion. But he never shifted, didn't spare me a glance as I stared up at him so attentively as he casually said, "You're tired."

"Okay," I decided. I flicked out my light (he left his on, a new thing) and went to bed. I don't know when he went to bed or if he ever did.

One Sunday, Alex and I sat in Washington Square Park. It was just starting to get warm and bearable to sit outside for prolonged periods of time. The center fountain still wasn't running water so people were skating on it. There was loud music blaring from somewhere but I never found the source. People were selling things: clothes, music, art, Bibles. I was sipping on a strawberry banana smoothie and Alex was eating some kind of disgusting sandwich that was practically spilling over with its contents.

I could feel the chill of the bench through my jeans, but it was comforting rather than chattering. Alex looked fluffy in a leather jacket. It was like a Yorkshire Terrier trying to be an American Bully.

I reached out and brushed my hands through the front of his mop top, trying to give sun to the part of his face that hid away from it. My hand crawled to the other side of him, putting my arm around his shoulders.

"Should I get my hair cut?" I was merely focusing on myself in this moment, not hinting toward anything. It was long, not yet too long, and my fringe had fully grown out sometime around the end of January.

Alex turned to me, getting a good look at me as if he were trying to determine his decision. He hummed in deep thought over this. "Maybe a trim."

I giggled. "You're just trying to agree with me."

He chewed through his sandwich. "No, I'm just being honest."

I hummed, uncertain of this. "You like my hair long."

He felt like I was trying to play games with him. "You're very beautiful, Janie."

I brushed it off. "You're just saying that."

"Jane." He turned to me with a very serious look on his face like he was about to break some bad news to me. It unnerved me to be stared at him in this way. "You say 'thank you' when someone gives you a compliment."

I couldn't help but give a little laugh. "You've been waiting to use that for years, have you?"

Alex smiled, very proud of himself and went to finish off his sandwich. "I have many tricks up my sleeve."

I would have kissed him if he didn't have sandwich residue all over his face. Instead, I reached for a napkin and wiped it off. "You're very beautiful too, Alex." Because I never said it enough. He had become more sure of himself through the years from getting older and growing into the person he wanted to be more but we all have that little voice gnawing away at us. Alex always fought off that voice for me and I never felt I put as sufficient of an effort in and I wanted to now.

He looked over at me, still wiping his hands as his cheeks flushed. It was quite a sight for a 25-year-old man who had a habit of being evasive to his emotions. To be overcome by something I had said, it made me blush too. "Say 'thank you' now, Alex."

He moved closer to me, almost touching. "Thank you, Janie." Then, lip to lip.

He pulled back and threw out his trash. When he came back, I let him have a sip of my smoothie and put his hand on my thigh. "What should we do now?" Alex asked.

"I don't know." We sat and people watched for a while. We gossiped about the passersby and made up stories about their lives. They started out small with the suspicion that an elegant-dressed woman had lost her way and wound up in the park and ended with us pretending all the skaters were aliens.

Then, we went record shopping. Music history was close by. Electric Lady Studios is a block over and The Bitter End is around the corner. We went into the basement of Generation Records and searched through the stack of $1 records and giant posters. We walked away empty-handed beside a David Bowie sticker I bought for Alex. He stuck it to the front of his notebook.

I woke up late one morning. It must have been a Saturday. I was definitely hungover. I remember the blur of trying to get to bed the night before. I ended up landing in bed and Alex had to take me apart piece by piece and pull sleep clothes over me. I was very quiet, if not already asleep.

Alex was out of bed sitting on the couch when I crawled out of our bedroom. It was silence other than the padding of my feet as I poured myself a glass of water. I sat at our tiny kitchen table, taking small sips from the ice cold glass. Alex moved over into the kitchen and whispered the question of if I wanted anything to eat. I wanted an apple so he cut it up into little slices for me.

I took a bite of one before deciding it hurt my jaw too much to do. I pulled out a cigarette to ease the pain.

Alex laughed at my display: smudged makeup, rough hair, and a cigarette. To me, it was glamourous. Writing it still kind of feels that way but Alex was probably right that it was pretty ugly and pretty funny. "I think you need a shower, Janie, not a cigarette."

"You smoke," I stated matter of factly. As if, his smoking outdoors was comparable to that sight. I was breaking my own rule of smoking indoors, not that Al would reprimand me for that.

"How was last night?" He asked. "If you can recall it."

I squinted. "Don't mock me."

"I'm not," he insisted.

I sighed and sipped my water. "Fine. We went to a nice club and had a nice dance. What did you do?"

He shrugged. He seemed so casual but he was staring so intensely at me as if to X-ray me. "Hung around here. Called me mum."

"You should've come out with us."

"Nah. I'm not much for clubbing these days."

I hummed and frowned. "Not even for me?"

He rolled his eyes. It wasn't playful, it was rejecting. I enforced many notions that Alex didn't want to hang out with me. At least, that was my belief in those days. It wasn't fair to him to force him to go to those places or place blame when he didn't. I think I even knew that then. Besides, we were split branches. Neither of us wanted to acknowledge we were growing the other way.

The Paris Review's Spring Revel was my first personal award show. I was no longer the plus one—Alex made a very good plus one. I was going to accept the Plimpton Prize, which I believe was the first award I had ever won in my life, minus those participation trophies.

Alex and I had already done our celebrating when I got the phone call. We jumped on the bed, we went out for dinner, we had sex—the trifecta. At the Spring Revel, I wanted to look sophisticated in the literary sense, whatever that means, but Fennel knew exactly what I meant. I wore a blue boatneck midi dress by Ralph Lauren, which I suppose screams American glamour. I was fancy proper without being frumpy or slutty. I quite liked it and Alex quite liked it. He just wore a suit, very easy for him.

I'm not sure why but I was most excited for the meal. Maybe because I didn't want to acknowledge people would actually be paying attention to me or maybe because, by the time the day came, I was really hungry. So, I ate my dinner, some meat and salad, and drank a glass of champagne.

I had my photo taken with Robert Redford and James Lipton and then hid in the bathroom for 20 minutes after. Alex was my emotional support animal. I dragged him with me whenever I went to talk to someone. It was always an easy out for when the conversation lulled to say, "This is my boyfriend, Alex. He's in the Arctic Monkeys." Most people didn't know what that was and asked. The others were in wonder by it. He was a great deflection tool, something he usually hated, but I knew that he knew that I needed it by the way he squeezed my hand whenever I did it.

"What shall I do with the $10,000? What did you do with your Mercury Prize money?" I asked Alex as the night began to wind down. We stood, waiting for a cab and the last of that winter wind threatened the spring night.

The cab approached and Alex opened the door for me. It was a very special night. "Well, I had to split mine with three other people. I think I just put it in my bank account."

I scoffed, "Lame." He chuckled as he hopped into the car. "I feel like I should do something special with mine."

"What's something you really want?"

I looked down at my purse. "I don't know. I can't think of anything I would buy. Maybe clothes."

"Maybe we should take a trip," he suggested. He was risqué and tempting with just the raise of his brow. He gave so much away with his tone. His hand sculpted its way across my face and brushed forgotten strands behind my ear.

"We? Who said anything about sharing the money with you?" I looked over at him and knew I would spend all the money on him if he'd let me, which, of course, he never would. But I understood the desire to care for a person, to look after them for all the days to come. Suddenly, I liked the idea of putting the money away. Saving it for some lovely toy he'd like to play with. Or maybe just a rainy day. One of his, not mine.

He placed his hand on my knee and we might have been stopped at a red light or stuck in traffic but I couldn't tell. He leaned close to my ear, whispering delicately for just me and the wind to hear, "You earned it."

By the end of April showers, I had been washed out. Things felt sloppier in nature by that time. The streets always seemed to be glazed with a pile of rain and the wind always seemed to have me rushing out the door.

Alex was soaking up the last few moments of relaxation before the tour kicked off in about two weeks. I wasn't there for most of that. I was drawn in by work, even when I didn't have much work to do. Every outing had something to do with a co-worker or a co-worker who knew this person who was going to that person's party. I loved it. It felt like the definition of being young and fabulous. A hallmark for New York and a girl who dreamed of a Sex & the City lifestyle.

Alex didn't like those kinds of things. He was a quiet, misshapen boy, who much rather enjoyed the quiet joys of the bar down the street or smoking with one of our neighbors on the roof. I liked those things too but they felt slow and downy by comparison.

Often, I would come home and find Alex on the roof. He liked the feeling of wind and it was an easy way to smoke outdoors without having to put his jeans on. He'd bring his notebook up with him but I often found it closed. He took more to reading around that time. It was an easy way to turn his brain off when he was so alone. I left him to think a lot.

I came home from work and didn't bother with going into our apartment. I trod up the stairs to the roof. His back was to me and I slid my hands down the front of him and said a quiet, "Hi."

He smiled and closed his book, dropping it down by his notebook, his pack of cigarettes, and his lighter. I sat beside him on the wicker bench that if you sat too far back on the strands in it would break. I stole from his pack and relaxed as stiff as possible. "What have you gotten up to?" I asked.

Alex shrugged, naturally complacent, but possessing an uncaringly cool front to him. I could always tell why people were drawn to him. Sometimes, it pissed me off how much he shrugged away all this attention people begged upon him, but it had always been his way and I loved that about him. He never deemed to change for anybody. He was firm in who he was, even if he hadn't yet figured out who he was. All the boys had been. Maybe because life had given them more freedom. They didn't have to be pretty and cool and mysterious and talented, yet they were. To me, it's obvious that you don't try to be those things because it negates the whole purpose but then unknowingly I wanted to be so much like him that it repelled people, the kind of people that really cared. Those who did, cracked through all that. They didn't see me as a cool girl in a white silk maxi skirt smoking on the roof with her quiet boyfriend. To them, I was Jane. To the closest, the one, I was Janie. And maybe that's the only way I'll ever be able to express how dearly I love Alex. Because things just made sense around him. It was as simple as that.

And when I strayed too far away, that is when I became a cool girl in a white silk maxi skirt smoking on the roof. But he shrugged and smiled and said he had spent the day reading and had gone out for lunch with one of his friends, the kind he knew really well and I knew in passing so the name isn't of much relevance. He had a nice time but was glad I was home now. That we were home together.

"Calvin is hosting a little get-together tonight and I said we'd go." It was simple, said over a puff of smoke, and a gaze at the clear blue sky.

But his brows furrowed and his cigarette grew ashy and he stared right at me though it took me too long to notice. "Really?"

I had expected this, his practice of reluctance. But I gushed and insisted, "It'll be plenty fun. Calvin always has nice parties and you've never been to his place. It's stunning. I'd use the $10,000 to save for a place like his. I'm sure I'm a couple of million off but it could be achieved in time with both our salaries. Maybe my parents would even—"

"Jane." He had been saying it the whole time but I was a buzzing alarm that refused to be put on snooze. He was tense and leaned back into his chair when I stopped talking. He shut his eyes like he was in the midst of a migraine. "God, do you hear yourself talk sometimes?"

Nothing mattered then. I hated myself. If he didn't like me, if he didn't want to hear me, then what was the point? However jolted I was, I was also stubborn. "Excuse me?"

"You just go on and on sometimes."

"Yes, Alex. I talk. It's what normal human beings do."

He shook his head and scuffed out his cigarette. His face was all wrinkled up in distress. "Jane, it's not a conversation if you're just rambling on about nothing."

"It's not nothing." It was my friend and the idea of a future. It felt so harmless and yet he was offended over it. "Thought you would want to hear about my day."

He crossed his arms and thought of something wise to say. I saw his face, full of that perturbed quality and a studious annoyance. I would have none of it. I stood up and walked to the roof's door. "Jane," he called after. I'm not sure what for. Apologize, lecture me, stare at me in disappointment.

"You're always doing this! You don't get to make me feel bad!" I yelled at him and stomped down to our apartment. I locked the door, even though I knew he was right behind me, I just wanted to piss him off. I stayed in front of the door so when he would open it, he'd be face-to-face with me.

And he was, but he walked past me. He knew my ploys too well. He was calm, swaying with himself and I was itching to explode. "I don't want to go to Calvin's place," he said. He sat down on the couch. Calm, cool, and collected.

"But I want you too."

"Jane, I've been to twenty of these parties you want me to go to. I want to relax on a Wednesday night with me girlfriend. Not fifty other people."

"You relax every day of the week. Let's go have fun."

"Jane!" He was yelling in an attempt to get through to me. "I don't find that fun. I don't find you coming home hammered fun. I don't find these people to be well-meaning and fun."

"You like Kaka and Fennel!"

"You mean going to dinner with them? Yes, I like going to places where I can talk to you without thinking you're going to throw up on me in the next sentence."

"Quit being so dramatic. Who are you even? That's how we met. Talking at places like this. Sharing a smoke after having too much to drink."

"Jane, I'm not 18 anymore. I have a different life now. I'm leaving in 2 weeks and you want to spend that time like that."

It felt wrong. I felt bad. I felt he had a point. But it was too late for all of that. This was an argument and it would only end when I got my way. "I like doing that! It's how I let loose after a long day of work."

"You don't have to be drunk to let loose."

All I could hear was him calling me my mother. "It's not being drunk. It's about being with my friends. It's about bitching about work."

"I don't want to hang around your friends. I want to hang around you. Why is that so hard for you? Do you not like me anymore?" He said it so seriously, it was terrifying.

My jaw fell open and it was like my life fell open. I was ready for the floor to let go and take me down with it. "Are you serious?" I grabbed my purse. "I might be a bitch or a drunk or whatever image of me you've conjured up in your head but I'm not that. You fucker." I didn't wait around. I stormed out.

I went to Calvin's. I had one shot and cried in the bathroom. Tasha came and held my hand. I was the biggest phony ever. She repeated last year's advice back at me but it felt like stones in my pockets pulling me down to the bottom of the river. I felt useless. My only choice was to sob. I was mourning, I could feel it, but not admit to it.

"Alex." I placed a hand on him, unsure if he was awake.

His head turned slightly upwards and he mumbled, "We'll talk about it in the morning." He turned away, escaping further under the covers, further away from me.

I sat on my side of the bed for a minute, lost on what to do, knowing I would be unable to go to bed. I got up and went to the bathroom, changing out of everything, removing my makeup, and then sitting on the toilet seat. Then, I cried. I'm not sure for how long but there was a crack in me that everything was pouring out of and I couldn't patch it up. So, I let the floodgates go, smushed my hands into my eyes, and shook with sobs.

The bathroom door cracked open and I could picture Alex popping his head in but I refused to look up. I wanted to avoid processing all of this. I wanted to be left alone and I wanted him to comfort me. I wanted everything and nothing and I couldn't get either. "Jane," he peeped.

I shook my head from my position. Words wouldn't allow themselves out. I became non-verbal, trapped by my silent cries.

He sighed. I heard the door open more as he moved further into the bathroom. He closed the door like we were hiding from someone as if it wasn't just the two of us in this apartment. "I don't know what you want me to do, Jane." His back leaned against the door, his hand grasped the doorknob, and his eyes averted my figure as I looked up at him.

Crying seemed to cease and I stilled for a moment to think. "That's the problem. I'm so sick of this need you have to wait for what I want because it used to just be with things I wanted to do, which was fine, but now it's like you don't even know how to act around me unless I tell you how to."

"You yell at me whenever I decide against it. I didn't want to go out tonight."

"But I did and you berated me for that."

"Sometimes it'd be nice to spend time with you without fifty other people around."

"They're my friends. It's the same as us hanging out in Joanie's basement. The only difference is you don't like my friends."

"I don't give a fuck about your friends. I give a fuck about you and this constant need you have to go out and get drunk."

"What? I'm an alcoholic now?"

"Don't do this shite. This putting words in my mouth. I can't handle that."

"It's no different than who I've always been, Alex. The only thing that's changed is the people. You had no issue with this when it was your friends too. You just don't like it when I pay attention to things other than you."

"What like Robert? The guy in Aruba?"

I stopped and squinted. "Why? Why do you feel the need to bring shit like that up?"

"Because it proves my point."

"What? That I'm a slag? You want me to get it tattooed across my forehead?"

"No. It's that you always find other things to want instead of me."

"You were away! I didn't fuck Robert until we had broken up. And we were barely together during the guy in Aruba."

"That's your excuse?"

"That's not my excuse! It's my explanation, which you were fine with 3 years ago."

"Because I wanted you! I wanted to get back together and then you told me that. I'm not...it's fine. I understand. I'm not mad about that."

"Sure seems like it."

"Stop." He was serious and I flushed like my father was scolding me. "It's hard not to feel like you choose things over me."

"Because I have friends? You're the one leaving. You're always the one leaving."

"For my job! You don't think I want to be with you all the time? That I enjoy doing that to you? Even when I'm here, you go off without me."

I crossed my arms. "I'm allowed to have a life outside of you, Alex."

"I know. But it doesn't really seem like you have a life with me in it."

"It's because you do nothing. You sit around here all day and mope when I go out. You don't want anything, you want to sit here and watch Breaking Bad."

"Any time that I want something we have a fight or we break up. I want to go on tour. Break-up. I want to go to LA. Major fight. I want a relationship with you. You run away."

"When did I ever not want a relationship with you?"

"Oh, come on, Jane, I'm well aware that before my little posh comment to you, I called you my girlfriend, and then you didn't talk to me for months."

"That? I was a completely different person then. The fact that you have to go back that far to make your point is ridiculous."

"Then, fine, Jane. Let's leave it at that. I'm wrong. You're right. Nothing will change. That's fine. Okay. I'll bend for you, okay? I'm fine doing that because I want to make you happy. But would you do that for me?"

"I moved to LA for you! I upended my whole life, my career over there, for you! If I told you to quit the band, would you do it?"

"Don't play that stupid game."

"Answer it."

"No. But would you quit your job right now to go on tour with me? No. You didn't give a shit about Simon & Schuster. If you cared so much, you wouldn't have left. It wasn't like I was leaving forever, okay? We both have other priorities other than each other."

"Great! Then, me going out with my friends from work should be no issue."

"Every night of the week?"

"You went out to LA for 5 weeks and don't use the excuse of the studios out there. We live in New York now. You can't really make that excuse."

He shook his head. "I'm not fighting with you. I don't like it. I don't want to do it. I want to go to bed. There."

"So, when you're wrong then it's okay to go to bed."

"No. I'm tired. I don't like doing this. Fine, I shouldn't have left your side, but I don't revolve around you."

"I don't revolve around you."

"No, but I'm not even in your orbit quite frankly. You moved on and I let you. I put things ahead of you. I fucked up. But I don't think you even care about that."

"How do you know?"

"I've known you for eight fucking years. In and out, Jane. I've cried with you, I've fought with you, I've lived with you, and I love you. Is that so hard for you to understand? I know you haven't been shown it very much but this is what it is. And I want you through all of it. That's what I want. But you don't reflect that back."

"I hurt you so much. I get it."

"No, you don't."

"Yes. I do. You can comfort me and tell me you love me but you were hurt by tonight. You've been hurt by me for a while. It takes a lot for you to yell at me. And you've yelled."

"Sorry."

"Don't say sorry. Don't bend for me. I'm tired of beating you down. But I'm not going to change for you. I like my life. Love it. And I've never felt that way before, except there's one thing. I always feel like I'm failing you."

"No, you're not. We both fucked up. It's fine."

"No, it's not. That's what this whole fight has been about and I'm done with you comforting me and I'm tired of fighting. I love you but it just hurts because every move I make, I feel like I'm chipping away at you. I don't want you to dictate the way I act but I don't want to hurt you in the process." I sighed and thought for a minute, wanting to think every turn through. I kept falling down the same hole. "And you'll be gone soon and I think that'll help. Some time separated."

"You want to break up?"

I shook my head. "I don't want that. I'm not going to do that." I took a deep breath. "Maybe while you're on tour we should take a break. You readjust. I readjust. We'll come back and they'll be a whole new person to learn but that love won't go anywhere. I know that. That's never going to go away."

"What if I don't want that?"

"I think we both need it. We've been on top of one another so far this year but never with one another, maybe only briefly. It's been bitter. I don't like us this way."

"I don't either."

"You're never gonna get rid of me, you know that?"

He chuckled wetly. "Yeah."

"You're always going to be my friend. I'd be nothing without that."

"Not true. Goes both ways. You're right."

"Yeah. I know. Can't help it."

"I love you, okay?"

"Yeah. You too."

"Do you want me to sleep on the couch?"

"Course not. You're not a pariah. I still like being with you."

"Good."

We went to bed on opposite sides and woke up on opposite sides. It was a weird few days where we co-existed with one another. We got along fine. I was at work and he went off at night. I think he went out drinking with friends but I never asked. We had sex one night. Alex and I were both drunk. Woke up naked with one another. We never talked about it but both understood it wasn't going to change anything. It was nice just to touch one another.

About a week later, Alex packed up his things, not that there was much there. I would keep the apartment along with the furniture. He took his belongings and moved in with Matt temporarily. The tour started soon after.

In a way, it was like when we broke up back in '06, except we were older and had been through this before. We talked on the phone when he was in London. It was a short call where we checked in on one another. He complained about a flight he took and I told him about something I was writing. He said he'd like to read it but I never sent it. That felt too intimate.

Truthfully, I perceived myself as being fine. I was doing great at work, I was having fun, I had friends, I only cried for one week, and only once to Fennel and Kaka. Truthfully, I was out of it. I was a machine and I betrayed myself by not letting myself feel anything. I had shamed myself for so long for being an emotional person, who sobbed in front of people at the slightest thing, but now I had become nothing. A cog in the machine.

I didn't betray all my old habits. I slept around. Not heavily but enough to get pregnant and not know who the father was. But it all felt understandable under the circumstances.

The week before Alex was due to return to New York for a concert, I wiped myself out. I drank, I smoked, I snorted. None were great combinations and by the end of the week, I burnt myself out. I spontaneously flew to LA and stayed with Opal for a few days. I mostly stayed in her place. I was probably depressed but not clinically. I called Alex and told him I was in LA and he made some joke about turned tables. We laughed. I wished him luck. We said we loved and missed each other and it all felt strangely platonic.

I decided to myself that partying was fine but spending the week going to your Calvin's parties wasn't worth it. I settled for Friday night drinks and dinners with Fennel and Kaka. It didn't always measure out this way but it wasn't a whole week with barely any sleep. My work had suffered for it and I decided I was going to write these experiences down rather than chasing the next high. It also helped that since I gained some favour in the New York literary scene and had re-crafted some of my old work, Jackson had set up several book deal meetings.

A lot of this was me unknowingly changing for Alex. Or maybe just unknowingly recognizing that he did have some points to his argument but that didn't mean he was completely in the right. I just needed to be better for myself.

Mostly, I decided that if I ever felt the need to break these rules I had set myself that would be okay too. For the first time in my life, I was completely on my own. Everyone who had taken care of me throughout my life was at a distance. I had people that supported me but I wanted to do it on my own. It was the first time I saw value in achieving something without having someone applaud for me at the finish line. They would always be there. He would always be there. But I liked the idea of patting myself on the back. At least for now, that would be enough.

Suck It and See was a surprise to me. It's strange how much time you spend with a person and how much is left uncovered. I had heard bits and pieces of things but everything was very distant at the time he made this record. It shouldn't have surprised me so much what ended up on the record considering the state of things but it's all retrospective here and things felt different in the moment than they did in writing.

The weirdest thing: I was jealous. I was jealous of my own self. These were words that I presumed to be toward me or some sex doll daydream vixen version of myself and I was jealous of her. I didn't experience these words of passion in the middle of lovemaking. Alex didn't roll over and say I was a thunderstorm (that would have been plenty weird). But I strangely desired that affection. To be told I was rarer than a can of dandelion and burdock and my skirt was a sawn-off shotgun. Maybe I was just getting lonely.

It was different from his other writing. I didn't find myself embedded in it. There was no "505" or "Secret Door" where I could pinpoint moments that he had drawn from, other than "That's Where You're Wrong," which even in itself was muddled (what does it mean for the sky to be a scissor??).

I found myself questioning if all those times I caught him alone outside with a notebook were hidden clues to this album, especially with "Love is a Laserquest." I always felt he could read me before he even knew me and it had been a while since this quality had taken me aback, but I had all the air knocked out of me. It was depressing how much of a love song it was without seeming as such. But I locked it away in a drawer and decided not to touch it again. I wouldn't discuss it with anyone. I wouldn't make jokes about it to Alex and I wouldn't talk about it in mournful ways with friends. It existed, it was there, and I would leave it there. I would leave everything there.

The summer proved to be hot. Then, a heat wave pulled through and made it even more hot. At the end of June, Jackson flew out to New York and stayed with me for a few days while we made moves for the book. While it meant a great deal to be published, I tried not to think about it much. People had books published every day. I was still left with the question of if people were actually going to read it.

Alex was in the rush of festival season and we didn't talk much. He sent me two postcards. One from Paris and the other from Sheffield. I taped them to my wall, next to all my other trinkets from him. The contents of them were minimal. He was having a good time in Paris, Sheffield was all the same, nothing ever changed in Sheffield, but each ended with "Love, Al" and for that, I held onto something, even if it was hard for me to believe we still had much of a chance.

We told everyone, as we told ourselves, that it was just a break. People understood. He'd be away, I was reaching new heights in my career, and it gave us the freedom to sleep around. Many people in New York understood that part. However, Stacey was convinced that we were lying and everything had fallen to shambles and I was on the verge of killing myself. So, she flew to New York.

She was fully grown; an idea that is still so strange to me. She was cooler than I'll ever be with long legs and perfect hair that bounced with every step she took. But she still picked her nose and said friggin' instead of fucking and she could be a total bitch at times. I love her so much.

I often say Stacey factory resets me. I suppose since a childhood home hasn't existed for me since my parents moved and I try to avoid my parents besides the holiday season, Stacey puts things back in perspective. It feels like playing pretend with her. So, we went to the Plaza for lunch and pretended we were the kind of people who lived on Park Avenue and had nannies for our children while we went out day drinking. I used a tenth of my Plimpton Prize money on this lovely day in New York and that felt like a worthy recipient of my prize money.

When Stacey left, Jackson flew back to secure the book deal with Penguin and because I couldn't think of calling it anything else, I finally officially named it LA Times. It was weird to pitch a book that felt so far removed from that time in my life considering how much material I had written since then but perhaps that's why I was able to do it.

I didn't tell anyone about it, except Jackson, obviously, and Opal. She came to New York and the three of us went out to a series of restaurants and clubs and shared my apartment for nearly the whole month of July because it seemed like a fun thing to do. Opal and I shared my bed and Jackson slept on the couch, which I suddenly found out was a pull-out. Alex must have purchased that one. Then, I felt like I was in Sex & the City. Or maybe Girls. I certainly felt like a Hannah and Opal seemed like a Marnie, or maybe a Jessa, but both in a good way. I hope.

A heat wave passed through at the time that seemed never-ending. My AC was shit so we didn't spend much time in the apartment. We went out for lunch at a place in Brooklyn where the AC had superpowers with how strong it was but the food never got cold. It was magical.

"I think you should call him," Opal said over her salad. The topic of Alex had been a tricky one. Sometimes, Opal and I stayed up nights talking about it, other times I shunned it. "I know he'll be happy."

I wiped my face with my napkin. Jackson sat there awkwardly. "I know he will be. That's not the problem."

"The reason why you're so bent out of shape over it is because you know it'll feel real once you tell him. You want to avoid that for as long as possible." In another life, Opal was a therapist. In this one, she was the type of girl to shove stones up her vagina for healing powers. She claims this very proudly.

"I'll do it in time."

"Do it before the book comes out."

I was never alone much—that was my excuse for not calling. But it played on my mind as to why I avoided it so much. I know a part of me wished to do it in person. To be able to jump on the bed with him and dance around with such excitement that it seemed nothing could ever be bad. I also knew that wouldn't be a reality.

So, that night I went up onto the apartment's roof and smoked one cigarette before calling him. Then, I lit up another one while the phone was ringing. He was somewhere in South Korea. I knew that much.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey. How you doing?" He was drunk. Not far gone, but lost to the sauce.

"I'm okay. How are you?" I debated putting off the news and telling him when he was in a more sober state but I knew it would be easier to tell him in this loose goose fashion.

"Good. Good. Hold on a sec." The noise diffused as he seemed to walk to a quieter place. I debated making a joke about partying but that felt too petty and snarky. The noise became muffled when he spoke again. "Sorry. Hi. Can you hear me?"

His tone was granular, inducing me to laugh. "Yeah. Yeah. I can hear you."

"You okay?" His concern was overt. I wondered how many times he had been anxious over me as if he pictured me in some alley with a needle hanging out of my arm.

"Yeah. Fine." I picked at the straying denim thread of my shorts. "I just had something to tell you."

"Yeah?"

It was out with it, at least that felt proper, even if it felt unnatural to relay the news to him this way. "Penguin picked up my book."

Silence rang on the other end and I thought the call had gotten disconnected. He cleared his voice and said, "You know, I knew it. You're a writer, Janie."

The dam broke and the water was let loose from my eyes. I was determined for it to not be overheard, but it was clear in my voice. He never commented on it as I never commented on his elongated silences. We both knew what it meant. "I'll buy you a nice car or something with the money."

"Nah. Just get me a signed copy."

"You'll get the first one."

I dedicated the book to him. He wouldn't see it for another year but I wrote it down that night. For the one who said, "You're a writer, Janie."

Alex called me a few days later. This time I was at a bar and excused myself for a smoke. It was the last day of July and it felt like the final day of the heat wave, even if more humidity was to come.

He was rough on the phone. His voice, his attitude, the way I pictured him running his hands through his hair, ripping at the roots of it. "Hey. What are you doing?" He asked.

"Just hanging out with some friends," I answered. "You?"

He took a heavy sigh and coughed once. He was smoking, I could tell. "I feel a little stupid, to be honest."

"Why?"

He waited, likely taking a drag and hanging with a deep thought. I nearly fell over when he said, "I, uh, just had sex with someone. Sorry if that's weird."

It was weird, not him doing it. Obviously, I had gotten up to my own business, but I don't know the decorum of calling your on-a-break girlfriend to let her know you fucked someone else. Still, I said, "No, I mean...well, I just." I struggled with how to respond. "Is there a reason you called me to tell me?"

He laughed. "'Cause I'm a soppy idiot, I guess."

"How so?"

"You know." I could hear him shift, either standing up or sitting down. The wind whistled around him. I wondered if he was outside while the girl he slept with was still in bed. I wondered how weird this was for her. "I've never..."

"You can't fake that you're a virgin when we met Alex," I joked.

He chuckled, coughing on something again. "Yeah, but I, uh, haven't done that with someone else in like seven years." He laughed through it awkwardly, not an ounce of him found it to be funny.

"Not even when we were broken up?"

"No." God, I really was a slag, slut, and a whore. Or maybe I was just normal and he was some modest conservative boy. "Well, I got a blowjob once."

"Hooker?"

"Very funny," he said dryly. "Anyway, I was smoking and thinking, you know, doing my worst. I guess, my impulses took over."

"Are we going to have phone sex now?" I quipped.

"Shut up," he chuckled. Something else happened around him that I wasn't able to catch. A moment later he said, "Thanks for listening. I'll, uh, talk to you soon."

"Okay. Sure."

Alex cut his hair in August. I received this news over Twitter and a text from Opal, who had just returned to Los Angeles. It was quite dramatic. No longer the kind of haircut down in a bathtub. I debated texting him about it but I didn't want him to think I was stalking him on the internet. I very much was, it was a lonely Tuesday night where I drank too much wine at dinner with Jackson (still celebrating).

However, this then caused me to make the mistake that I then had to do something drastic with my hair. Big mistake. Huge. The following night, I enlisted Tasha's help to dye my hair blonde. My hair...did not come out blonde. It was frizzy. It was orange. I nearly decided to just shave all my hair off if not for Tasha calming me down by having us watch Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Most dreadful thing was having to go to work the next day. I thought about putting a bag over my head. I thought about taking off work. I thought about quitting my job. I thought about taking my head off. I sent a picture to Opal, my yes-man cheerleader, who told me it looked great and wacky and I should just own it. I wore it in a low bun with a hat on and took one step out the door before deciding to call in sick to work.

I made an emergency call to my hair salon, which didn't have anything available until Monday morning. So I faked a long sickness, which in a way was a real sickness because I just sat on the couch watching TV and ordering take-out for 4 days. The only time I went outside was to smoke on the roof, which I stopped doing after my neighbor saw me and gave me a strange look, likely thinking I had just escaped the institution.

Monday morning, my hair stylist said to me, "You know, blonde just isn't your colour. You're too pale, it washes you out."

I melodramatically dived my head into my hands and said, "I know. I'm so stupid!"

"We could take you back to brown or we could...?" That dot dot dot seemed more appealing to me than going back to my old self, especially after staring at Bozo the Clown for the past few days. So, I went red, well, a coppery red. Tasha said I was a penny. It wasn't as good as my natural colour, I think I was blessed with the colour I was supposed to be. But if I was spiraling I'd like to associate it with a different version of myself.

It took all of this for me to realize that if I had stressed so much about changing my hair that maybe, just maybe, Alex's haircut wasn't to look cool for all the hot new babes. It was maybe to look cool for me.

Then, he got a new girlfriend.

I didn't know anything about her. She was tall, brunette, skinny with a cool name. I wouldn't label my feelings to be jealousy, maybe a little, but it was more like she had taken my toy on the playground and I had no chance of getting it back.

I wouldn't even go into my preconceived notions of what "being on a break" meant to me because then we'd be getting into a whole Ross and Rachel debate that I'm just not up for. What was the difference between sleeping with people and dating people? There was one thing: Alex and I were now exes. We could call ourselves friends as much as we wanted but above all else the way the world would label us was the ex-girlfriend of Alex Turner and the ex-boyfriend of Jane Cavendish.

I thought about being rash and going out to troll the streets until I got a boyfriend too but the logical part of my brain finally kicked in (frontal lobe development) and realized the whole reason why I wanted a break from Alex was that work and the extracurricular activities that came along with it were too much to maintain a relationship, especially since Alex had been my only long term relationship. To dive myself into anything but casual at that point felt reckless.

Instead, I focused on work, the book, and my friends. All three felt more valuable at that moment than some guy. I had balanced around friend groups since Barnsley and for the first time since I felt settled with friends I could call at the drop of a hat. I made Fennel and Kaka my emergency contacts. Tasha was who I went to if I wanted chaos. Opal was for sage advice. Jackson was my literary consultant.

It made me laugh but I quite liked how grown I was. I flip-flopped a lot. I was also 25 so it made sense. I told Stacey this when she and her boyfriend broke up. She said it was stupid and then cried about how much she missed me. Cavendishes produce quite dramatic women.

The next time Alex came to town, I didn't avoid it. My life had intertwined itself in tight, deep fashions that there was never a possibility of me not seeing the band live. It would be weird to miss out on this tour, especially when we had established and fostered that we would remain friends. Whether growth or distance, I didn't have mixed emotions about this. I was quite excited for the concert.

Thank god I didn't miss it because it might be the wildest show of theirs I ever attended. It felt like the old days back when we were beneath the boardwalk or stuck in someone's basement and people were sweaty and climbing all over each other, including the band themselves. The venue was in Brooklyn, Music Hall of Williamsburg, a venue that only held 650 people, possibly the smallest venue I had seen them in since the pre-debut days.

I took Jackson and Opal with me, who hadn't specifically come out for this show since Jackson practically lived with me since the book deal began and Opal had been trying to convince herself of ways not to move out to New York. However, I didn't want to go alone and Fennel's and Kaka's scene wasn't exactly a rock concert and Tasha didn't want to bring back bad memories. We made the wise decision to smoke a joint before going into the venue.

I told Alex on the phone a few days before that I was going and he was happy about it but that was about it. I texted Matt and he was quite excited for me to meet his new girlfriend, Breana. I did think there was a possibility I would meet other girlfriends too.

The show started decently normal. They opened with "Pretty Visitors," they did "Fluorescent Adolescent," and then things seemed to unravel around "Brianstorm" when a girl climbed on stage and began dancing. I have found this to be the greatest way to interfere with a show.

There's always the weirdos who climb on stage to try and hug or kiss the artist, but she simply climbed up on stage and started jamming out. I shun them for taking her off and interrupting her fun. She was quite the entertainment. They could use all the help they needed.

During "The View From the Afternoon," Matt missed his beloved signature drumstick throw and catch, likely due to Alex trying to intercept it. Neither men seemed so macho anymore. However, Alex then jumped off Matt's drum set in an attempt to gain some bravado back.

I suppose the point I should be commenting on the most is Alex singing his new girlfriend's name in a song presumably written about me, however, I didn't notice it. I noticed Jamie screwing up his guitar solo after this. Maybe that shielded me from the bullet but I think even if I had noticed I wouldn't have cared much.

Because there's something odd about Alex doing that at a show that I attended. I mean, she was there too, but I don't think that's why he did that. Maybe I'm being too self-centered to think he wanted to make it a point that he had moved on but I already knew that he had moved on and I was passed sobbing over it.

Nothing I did could change it now, in fact, I was part of the reason why they were together now. If I hadn't implemented the break then the song would have had a far different outcome but I don't know how Jane sounds in a song. Pain, rain, strange, vain. They aren't very pleasant words and she had a nice name for an elongated note instead of "oh-oh-oh." Plus, I mean, the song was written about me, right?

In any case, after the show, I met up with them backstage. It was a small area for a small venue, close proximity to everyone. Alex and his new beau, Arielle, were off somewhere else while I got introduced to Breana and teased about my new hair. I then got paranoid about the fact that Alex would think I copied him somehow but considering how much I constantly talked about changing my hair, I realized that the alarm bells should be raised with him and not me. I very well could have done it before his haircut and he would have been none the wiser.

It was the first thing he commented on when I saw him. He was casually dressed with his leather jacket slung over his arm. The hair was slicked back but the front fell at different angles after the intensity of the show. He made a sound along the lines of "Woah" before saying, "Almost didn't recognize you there." His arms hugged around me and I was determined for no one to think of this interaction as awkward.

"Could say the same thing to you," I countered.

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Suppose so." He waved to Jackson and Opal and I could spot the conflicting pull he had about whether to introduce me to Arielle or not. But if we were going to be friends he'd have to introduce the girl on his arm. "This is Arielle."

She hugged me. She was delightful and bubbly and her hair colour looked too similar to mine. I worried that I had made things awkward for her but she either paid no mind to me or was in the same boat as me to combat any tensions. "Jane," she said so lovingly, "I've read some of your work. Alex told me you have a book coming out. That's awesome!"

I wonder if she had cyber-stalked me like I had cyber-stalked her. Did she get a subscription to the New Yorker to read my pieces like I had downloaded Vine to watch her? Should I have complimented her Vines? Is that a thing you do?

"Thank you." Deflecting attention away from me was key. I turned to Jackson and Opal. "These are my friends, Jackson, who is my book agent, and Opal, who introduced me to him."

They greeted one another and Arielle asked some questions about what Opal did for a living and what it meant to be a book agent. I stared at Alex. Not in that cumbersome longing way or flirtatiously. He smiled at me and I smiled at him. My lips nearly felt the urge to mouth if he wanted to step out for a smoke for me but I figured I wasn't in a position to do that anymore.

But he moved to the other side of Arielle to get closer to me and asked, "What did you think?"

"Of what?" I thought he was asking what I thought of Arielle.

"Of the show?" He chuckled when saying it like he already knew what my answer would be.

There was no shrugging off this show or promising a more detailed review later, it was clear. "It was maybe the best thing I've ever seen and it had nothing to do with you guys at all."

He cracked a laugh and I joined him in it. "Yeah, we're thinking of bringing her out for all the shows," he said, referring to the stage climber. "How's the book coming along?"

"It'll be coming out in June. We finalized the book cover last week." It wasn't big and fancy. It was actually quite similar to the Suck It and See album cover with it being mainly just text. Although, my font was better than his font. Jackson wanted to put palm trees on the cover but I didn't like that. It felt too cheesy.

"Your author photo taken?" He knew how much I stressed about that. I found most author photos to be ugly and was determined for mine to not resemble my primary school picture day photo.

I slapped my palm to my forehead. "Don't remind me. I'll probably break out into hives while it's being taken."

"You worry too much," he chastised me. "You'll be beautiful in whatever photo you end up with. It's about the book anyway and you already know that's great."

I smiled but didn't thank him for how much that meant to me. I'm not sure what everyone did after that, I think they went for drinks, but there was no invitation to hang out after the show. Opal, Jackson, and I went home.

When we said goodbye, I kissed everyone on the cheek. I wondered if that was too much. A lip gloss stain on the side of Alex's cheek from me.

a/n: i wrote the majority of this today and yesterday in random bursts of creativity while being sick. maybe being sick was key all along.

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner #alex turner smut #junedenim #beneath the boardwalk

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instarsandcrime · 10 months ago

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Pride Is A Fickle Thing

Well...at least it's not just Lu/ci/fer this time?

@onetrickponi had some great prompts to offer and, since she said she might be writing them, I decided to change up a certain one a little so it turned out the same but also different! Can be read as Ra//dio//App//le or just platonic fluff! Enjoy! ❤️

Prompt: Lu/ci/fer heals A/la/stor, though it takes a great deal of expended effort on his part and it turns out both of them hate looking weak in front of other people.

---

"Hp'shhzzzt!" A sharp, staticky sneeze slipped through a crack in the shadows.

Alastor wheezed as he grabbed yet another handkerchief from his collection, attempting in vain to blow away the clinging itch that stuck to him for the entire meeting. But he couldn't help it. Every single twitch of the finger, every flick of the ear, every time he even bothered to move his holy wound its poison would snake through his ribs and up to his aching head. And when it did the reaction got worse. And when the reaction got worse he couldn't help but...c-couldn't...help but…but snehhh--

"Et'chhht! TSH'ZZZZHHEW! Nnghh..." The overlord muttered out a string of curses as another wave of pain shot through him, grasping a pillar before he could double over and collapse.

“Oof, ouch! That one sounded rough." An irritatingly cheery voice chirped from nowhere in particular.

"Oh do be qui-quieehhh...Heh! Heh’eshhh't! Het'chhhzzz't!" Pressing a well-used cloth up to reddened nostrils, Alastor hurriedly straightened himself, discreetly rubbing the swarm of feathers he felt as far back as it could go.

"Bless y-- er, no, wait. That's not appropriate for someone like you, is it?" And with a golden puff of smoke he finally appeared. The six winged thorn in his side. “Fuck off? Damn you? Curse you, maybe? Mmmn no, I think you’ve already got that handled.”

"Lucifer." Alastor's ear flicked in annoyance, "What can I do for you m-my unh-huhh-holy fellow? Off t-to find some...s-some...snff! Suhh-someone to pestehhhHET'ZSCHHHH! Ghhh..."

The fallen angel winced as shrill feedback pierced the air. "Lookin' a bit sneezy there, bud. I guess even the most powerful overlords catch colds. Just goes to show that somewhere deep, deep, deeeeep down, you still have a mortal soul."

The Radio Demon chuckled, smile splitting despite the feverish beads of sweat that rolled down his neck. "On the contrary! Why, I'm the guardian angel of the Hazbin Hotel! I'm sure Charlie would agree."

Lucifer twisted the cane in his palms. “Ohoh! That definitely sounds like my little girl!”

"Agreed! She is truly a marvel. Exiling all doubts with a cheerful smile!"

"And when the hotel gets big enough, who knows? Maybe she won’t even need you anymore! She can take your place all on her own-- without the tacky bellhop suit, of course."

"Hah! Radio never truly goes out of style. Unlike...u-unlike the...the..."

"Speechless already?"

"A trifuhhh…huh! T-trifling matter, My Liege. I'm simply allergihhh...allergic to...to your bullshhHHT��SHHHhhoo...Huh'zschhh!"

"Impressive comeback. You should really--"

"'Hup’KZSSHHHT! HT'SHHH'OOooo...guhh…snff!" Worry bloomed on Lucifer’s face when his rival flashed a sliver of a wince. And as quick as it grew, Alastor rushed to crush the blossom with the wave of a hand. “Such compassion! I was wonderihh…wondering when the sin of pride would lower himself to such a weak emotion–”

“Let me see it.”

“Pardon?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” His patient opened his mouth, “Nope, wait, don’t answer that. Just let me see the wound.”

“Hah! How absurd! Me? Get hurt?” The Radio Demon’s voice crackled with laughter, an unseen audience following suit. “Has our poor king gone senile in his old age?”

“I–! You–!” Lucifer took a deep breath, wisps of smoke billowing from his nose.

Inhale. Exhale.

“Okay.”

Despite his eternal grin, Alastor’s feverish eyes blinked back confusion. “...O. Okay?”

“Okay.” The king deadpanned, hopping back a few steps. “You like making deals, right?”

“I do have other hobbies, you know.”

“Nice. I don’t care. Walk to me without sneezing once. I know you can hide the pain, but if you think holy poison will just go away, then you must either be the most stubborn man in the nine rings, or the biggest dumbass.” He paused. “Or both. If you lose, I heal you and you never have to think about Adam and his gaudy lute axe again. If you win, let’s just say that in a few more days, no one in Hell will hear another broadcast from The Radio Demon again.”

A suffocating silence fell over the two, with only the small ambience of old timey cigarette advertisements and Ella Fitzgerald to keep them company. Until finally obsidian claws drummed against the tip of a microphone.

“...Fine.” Alastor said simply.

“Fine.” Lucifer spat back.

“A simple task, really.”

“Then stop stalling and do it, coward.” Satan flashed his pearly fangs.

A scarlet eye twitched. His opponent took a tentative step forward and the itch followed suit, fighting the urge to rub a knuckle against it.

“Having trouble there?”

“I can assure you I'm per…p-perfectly fihh-fide.” Another step. The growing tickle burned from the bridge to the tip.

“Fihhh-fidt as a fidd-fiddle.”

Almost halfway. Hold it in, hold it in.

“I'b dot as weak as y-yuhhh…you thidk…”

Through irritated tears, slit pupils studied him closely. “Uh-huh. Still don’t believe you.”

Temper beginning to flare as badly as his wound, the overlord opened his mouth to retort. But his voice was completely stolen as the itch teased the rim of his nostrils. It built and built until–

Oh, fuck it.

“Heh'SHHHHZT! Ihh-hih-Hp'SCHHH! ‘TSCHHHH'hhooo…nhhh…” The ground beneath him whirled and tilted like a merry-go-round and he was falling, falling, falling– only to be caught and dragged off the ride with unnervingly gentle hands.

“I've got you.” Lucifer muttered.

“What’s goi’g od? Why are you doi’g this?” The Radio Demon demanded as he was lifted, a body barely up to his chest not acknowledging his weight.

“Because lucky for you, I used to be a saint.” Wait…when did they get to his bathroom? When was he suddenly draped against the wall?

“You hate me." For some reason Alastor couldn’t control his shaking voice, losing the strength to fight. He sounded so disgustingly fragile. He hated it. He hated this. He hated. He. Hated.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, shut up and let me save you already!” Lucifer swore, clicking the locks in place with the snap of his fingers. Alastor flinched when freezing hands pressed against a soaked through dress shirt and– oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, no shit!” A pure light became a ripple. Then a swirl. Then a bubble. It filled every space imaginable, bathing the pair in its warm blanket. Faintly, Alastor tasted a hint of jambalaya on his tongue. And like a needle and thread to a spilled over poppet, The wound began to close.

Unfortunately, despite the subsiding agony, the holy light that caught his patient's eye did not agree with him. Wait. If angelic power hurt a demon, why was he being healed with–

“H-hhh!” Alastor’s breath hitched.

“Seriously? Now? I’m trying to work here.” Lucifer growled, almost fumbling the surgery when his concentration nearly broke. Through the haze, the overlord could glimpse familiar beads of sweat that trickled down the side of the fallen angel’s neck.

“H-hhh…c-cad’t…h-hhhhelp it…” Between hiccuping breaths and stuttering speech, somewhere along the way a finger was pressed underneath his fluttering nostrils.

“I swear to my fucking Father.” Lucifer huffed out, blinking blearily as he continued his surgery one-handed. And before the wound closed, Alastor couldn’t help but dread at the way Lucifer’s eyelids drooped further and further, teetering between exhaustion and pain.

With two hands the healing process would have taken two minutes.

With one it took two hours. Or at least, the amount of hands was Lucifer’s excuse.

Alastor would have been more impressed if not for the fact that he was not impressed, because it was a ridiculous emotion to have for Lucifer of all beings. So instead, the next day, he chose to focus on what couldn’t heal right away.

“Het’schhzz!” Alastor pitched into his handkerchief, and Charlie quickly caught his breakfast plate before she could drop it.

“Bless you!” She breathed, clutching her chest with one hand.

Well. At least it wasn’t every five seconds.

“Thank you, my dear. Ironic as it may be.” Alastor chuckled, moving to pick up his utensils. He scanned the dining table to take in the morning rush. Angel Dust was gabbing away next to Husker, silently snatching food off his plate with his lower pair of arms. Vaggie was taking a sharpening stone to her spear between bites of food, softening when her princess veered the corner to give a quick peck on the lips. Sir Pentious was waving his spindly hands about, excitedly explaining the inner workings of his ‘flying machine’ to Niffty, who was absolutely more interested in the bug crawling on his top hat.

Overall a peaceful morning. Too peaceful. It unsettled him that there was one piece missing–

Ah. Out of the corner of his eye a small, white rat slowly crawled across the carpet. One with chubby, cherub cheeks. Fur mussed. Bags under its button eyes. A golden flush dotting his face, glowing like a firefly. And then suddenly everything clicked.

The lack of a wound or poison, but still feeling a fading tickle. The shared symptoms between them. Lucifer hadn’t just been exhausted that night. He hadn’t just healed him. Oh no, the bastard just had to take the holy poison for himself knowing that a half-holy body would survive. Though it was obvious he was equally– oh, what was that saying Rosie was kind enough to teach him– ‘going through it’. The fact that he would even risk inhaling a drop for someone he hated so much…

Hm.

Well, Alastor decided to himself, It would be remiss of him to not repay the favor. So with all the mercy of a heartless overlord, he kicked the stupid rat as far as it could go. With a startled squeak and a puff of smoke, the King of Hell tumbled across the floor. The dining room went silent for a moment, all eyes on the sudden appearance of Lucifer Morningstar lying on his back– disheveled, dazed, and stone still.

“Oh my gosh, dad!” Charlie yelped as her father pushed himself upright– moving stiffly, Alastor noted. “I didn’t see you come in…to…” As she helped him stand, her voice trailed off. “Are you okay?”

“I second that, fer the record.” Angel Dust waved a fork nonchalantly in the air, “Kingy’s always an early riser. What gives?”

“Worrywarts, aren’t they?” Lucifer jolted as Alastor popped up beside him with a screeching static, suddenly inches apart. His smirk widened as he tilted his head with a little, high pitched ‘hm!’ “I must say, I can’t help but feel the same. Your regal features look a bit. Oh, what’s the word?” He motions to his own face with a dramatic flourish. “Off-color.”

Lucifer’s glare broke when he put a hand up to his cheek. Then another, eyes growing wide as teacup saucers. It didn’t help when embarrassment overtook his feverish blush, brightening with the panic. “H-hah!” He chuckled nervously, summoning his top hat to tug the brim over his face. “W-wouldja look at that? Guess I fell asleep at the ol’ workshop again and I ran my power a little too– …t-too hot…” He sniffed sharply, rubbing at his nose.

“How uncouth.” Alastor circled the man like a ravenous beast. “Quite unlike yourself to be in such a state. Maybe you should be a little more honest. I can even give you a push.”

“Wh-whhhat are you–”

With a single poke of his cane Lucifer stumbled, grimacing in pain. And it only took one poke for that short-lived charade to fall apart.

“H-hehhh! No, ndo dabbit keeb idt togehh…together…”

“Your Majesty? Are you…?” Vaggie sat straighter, brow furrowed.

“Oof! That don’t look right.” Angel winced.

“Mhm.” Husk hummed into his mug of whisky.

“Oh my. The ultimate bad boy needs to be cleaned!” Niffty gasped.

“Poor thing.” Sir Pentious’s bottom lip wobbled.

“Dad?” Charlie set a hand on his shoulder. Then jumped back with a squeak as the single touch sparked the powder keg.

“Hit’schh!” Lucifer bent at the waist, merciless fit wracking an already exhausted body. “It’schh! It’shieww! Hit’SCHIEW! Hnt’SHIEW! HET’SCHH! ‘TSHH! TCHH! Hit’SCHH’HIEW! H-hihhh…hih! Hih– HITSCHHHH’HIEW!”

The room went silent. Angel Dust whistled lowly.

“My goodness, bless you!” Alastor gaped, every movement an exaggerated performance.

“Y-you did thahhh– thadt od purpose you sohd of ahhh– hah-HATSCHHHHIEW!” The fallen king pitched forward again. When he finally surfaced he was staggering, holding his aching head. “S’rry…’bout thadt.”

Before Charlie could run to catch him Alastor tutted, summoning his shadow to steady his rival, bending its lanky limb over his forehead. “My my, you sound awful! Simply dreadful! Overworked, perhaps? Or…oh, it couldn’t be! Is the King of Hell ill?”

“Oh shudt up Alasdtor– snff! I’b dot sigk! Idt’s jus’dt–”

“Allergies?” Husk deadpanned, expression completely unimpressed.

“Allergies!” Lucifer blurted, “Nodthin’ do worry your head over. So ihhh–...hih! hit’TSCHIU! HET’CHHHIEWW! Nghh, jus’dt ledt be–”

Charlie’s grip tightened, other hand reaching for a napkin. “Don’t run! Please?”

The King of Hell froze. He couldn’t help it. He was completely powerless when it came to his little girl. His flush started to hem the edges of silverware and dusted the windows, and he decided to look anywhere but at Charlie, distracting himself with a mucky nose blow into the makeshift tissue.

“I…I guess I’ll stick around a while longer. I feel a bit dizzy, anyway.” He chuckled, trying to pretend like every word didn’t painfully scrape at his chest. But Charlie smiled brightly, and she guided him to a chair Vaggie had already pulled out for him. Stepping back to wave her hands. Go on!

Lucifer blinked back shock when the room watched, silent with bated breath. “Oh– snff! Oh, well. Um. It’s not an emergency but. But I may be thirsty–”

Zipping back and forth, Niffty slid a cup of water by his side.

“Oh! Th-thank you.” Lucifer smiled bashfully.

The silenced thickened, group looking on expectantly.

“...More?!”

“More.” Charlie nodded, crossing her arms. Awestruck, the hermit crumbled as his closest residents and friends fussed and fretted. All the while Alastor sat comfortably in his chair and sipped his tea, humming to the tune of a new morning.

The perfectly chaotic puzzle was complete. Just the way he liked it.

#snz #snz fic #ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#a/la/stor #lu/ci/fer #char/lie #va/ggi/ie #an/gel/du/st #hu/sk #ni/ff/ty #sir/pen/tious

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boysinmaidoutfits · 4 months ago

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I could have you, Couldn’t I?

Part III. (The last one)

Theodore Nott x Reader

Thank you so much for the support, and i hope you guys like the last part of this series! I’ll keep you guys updated with more stories, let me know if you have any suggestions or head canons you’d want me to write. Wishing you all well and love yalll!💚

warnings ‼️: slight smut, mention of drugs and alcohol.

I stepped into the Slytherin house, green lights and smoke covering the whole place, music blasting through the speakers. I had a simple yet sexy costume on, i was wearing a black angel costume, a mini skirt with thighs that reached up to my middle thigh the top decorated with lace, I had a black corset on which hugged my body perfectly. My black high heeled boots clicked against the tile floor as I made my way to the party, my black little wings swaying on my back. Everyone was drunk already, some of them were even doing drugs, smoking weed, making out on the couch or the hallways, it was just how every Slytherin party went down in history. I made my way to the table and mixed up a strong drink i needed something for courage after all.

I made my way to the dance floor and i started swaying my hips, running my hands along my body to the music. I felt hot, guys all over the room staring at me with need and fire in their eyes. A pair of blue eyes pierced through the crowd staring right at me, it got my attention, a dangerously handsome Theodore painted as a skeleton. He was wearing his black suit with a red tie, he looked so sexy I could barely tear my eyes away from him. I felt a pair of hands ghosting on my waist slowly and teasingly sliding down to my hips, Theodore’s hands. “You’re looking breathtaking bellezza” He lets out a low groan as I push my back against him, dancing to the music still. I felt his hot breath against my neck whispering to me, his words poured out like honey “Mi stai rendendo le cose difficili(you’re making it difficult for me)” His italian made my legs tremble, my stomach tied in a knot, a good kind of knot, I turned my head looking into his eyes our faces awfully close to each other. “Making what difficult?” I looked up at him with doe eyes acting dumb, a sly smirk appeared on his face as he spun me around grabbing my chin. I felt his stronge woody cologne mixed with a hint of cigarette fill my nostrils. I never wanted a man so much.”Let me show you bellezza” He leaned down, his fingers dancing down from my chin to my neck grabbing it softly. “Gotta feel you baby, your lips on mine again..” he breathed out, and that’s when I knew he remembered, just as much as I remembered, the feeling of his lips on mine haunting me to this day. “Theodore…” I breathed out, I needed to feel his lips on mine immediately, I couldn’t bear it anymore. “Use your words topolino..(little mouse)” “Kiss me Theo, make a mess out of me, make the air disappear from my lungs” I whispered, my lips inches away from his as my hot breath lingered on his lips. I was driving him crazy, and I knew I only had this effect on him. “Oh you wanna be a mess?” He smirked down at me. “I’ll take care of that..” he grabbed my hand dragging me along the crowded room and leading me to the hallway, the music fading, the green lights and the smoke was still present as the chilly air hit me, but my body was burning, i needed him desperately. He pushed me up against the wall taking one of my legs and pulling it up to his waist. “No running now topolino..” he breathed hot against my lips, his lips brushing against mine in a soft yet aggressive way, he pressed his lips against mine in a teasing and fierce kiss. He groaned against my lips pushing himself against me, I couldn’t get enough of him. I folded my arms around his neck pulling him closer, my fingers found its way to his hair tangling in it. I parted my lips his tongue sliding into my mouth, exploring it demanding to taste every inch of it. I let out a soft moan and to that he let out a soft groan, pulling back slightly.”Fottere..(fuck) you’re driving me mad baby..” he presses a kiss against my lips again, his hands travelling upon my thighs squeezing it. His touch sent shivers down my spine. He pulled back and kissed down my neck, nibbling and biting my skin, leaving marks. He kissed along my jawline and then he attacked my lips again. We were on each other like animals, i was grabbing onto him, my legs found their way around his waist as he grabbed onto my ass supporting my weight. He squeezed every inch of me as he claimed my body with his hands. “Theo..” I breathe out between kisses and he pulls back looking at me “I could have you bella… couldn’t I?” He asked looking at me, his eyes flicking down to my lips and then back up to my eyes again. I groan softly, kissing him pouring all my emotions into the kiss. “I’ll take that as a yes..” he chuckles as he pressed a quick peck on my lips.”As you should..” I breathe out, our foreheads pressed against each other, our eyes not breaking contact even for a second. Our lips both puffy from the make out session we just shared, he smirked down at me looking at my swollen lips and the hickeys he left on my neck as he chuckles darkly.”il mio bel pasticcio..(my beautiful mess)”

#harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #slytherin #slytherinboys #theo x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #harry potter

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pabtsblueliving · 2 years ago

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Hot Summer Georgia Nights

Really wanted to write this from the poll ( it had the most votes ) even though i left voting up for a few hours LOLLL

Here’s how you and Daryl met :) Enjoy <3 xoxo

warnings: mention of abuse, cigarette smoking, and slightest mention of drugs/alcohol.

Your sitting in the hot sun on the porch with Judith, sun beating down and the summer bugs chirping reminded you of those times that felt almost like yesterday.

You had known the Dixon brothers from the oldest boys endeavors; drugs, drinking, girls, and trucks. You never knew him well though, You had grown up a few homes down from them, and you were the same age as the youngest, Daryl.

You were in a lot of the same classes as Daryl in high school. He was quiet, reserved, has a few friends but never made himself too known. You often took walks around your neighborhood when the heat was too much to bear in your home, often walking by the Dixon residence…sneaking a peak at Daryl, crouched down next to a motorcycle with a cut-off button up shirt.

Not to his knowledge, at least then, you had always had a thing for him. His eyes, his spikey unruly hair, his muscles, his voice. Everything, You’d just been afraid of rejection.

There was a particularly sticky day, and luckily there was a public pool open during the summer a few blocks away from your home. You and some friends had to head over to beat the heat.

You were perched on a towel, feeling parched. Your two girlfriends face down, attempting to gain a sunkissed tan while sitting by the side of the pool.

“I'm gonna go grab a soda, you guys want?” You asked, putting your sunglasses on top of your head.

They both smiled and declined, thanking you. You adjusted your suit and made way to the snack bar. You were waiting in line when you saw him. Daryl. He was with his two other friends, heading your way. You looked over, then went back to paying for your soda.

You turned around to walk back to your friends when your and Daryls’ shoulders knocked together, your soda flying out of your hand. You sighed and knelt down and he turned around quickly.

“Sorr’ bout’ that…” He spoke quietly, he scratched the back of his head.

“No…I…Didnt see where I was going.” You said, a rose color spreading across your cheeks.

He looked towards his friends, they shook their heads and had a questionable look. Daryl looked towards you as you picked up your cup.

“Le’ me just…get you nother’ one. I owe you…” He dug his hands into the pockets of his swim trunks, pulling out a few dollar bills.

“Wait, no its ok seriously…I didnt wan-” He cut you off, handing you a new soda.

“I don’ mind” He gave you a small smile. You returned it.

“Thanks” You blinked and he continued on to his friends, and you did to yours.

A few hours later, you were on your porch, smoking a cigarette. You heard crashing and yelling a few houses down, you tried to look, but didnt feel like moving from your spot.

“...Yeah, and screw you asshole!” You heard a familiar voice yell, and then a door slam.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you took another drag turning your head, then you saw him under the street lights,

He gruffed and rubbed his eyes, then feeling your presence. He turned to you and walked over,

“Hey, could’ I git on’ of those?” He mumbled

“Yeah, sure” You gave him a smile and met him at the broken gate of your front yard.

You handed it to him, and gave him a light.

“Wait…I kno’ you.” He looked at you.

“You made me drop my soda” You chuckled

He shook his head and sighed, “Damn, yeh. Sorry bout’ that…” He blushed a bit and took another drag.

“Do you…” You pointed to your porch, “wanna sit?” You asked, this was a long shot.

He looked over to his house, then back to you, and looked down. He rocked on his feet. On the inside you screamed at him to say yes.

“Beats goin’ back there.” He mumbled. You smiled and opened the gate, letting him in. He sat on the steps.

You both sat, and smoked in silence before you spoke up.

“Ive seen you around, youre Merles brother right?” You asked

“Jesus, unfortunately…” He said, chucking his cigarette. “But uh…yeah, youre in my history class, I seen you too.” He said

“So you do recognize me…not just cause you spilled my soda…” You smirked a bit, and lit another cigarette, handing it to him.

“Yeah I guess, whatever.” He scoffed, and smiled a bit…

Present Day: Alexandria

“...Y/N…Y/N!” Daryl snapped his fingers.

You shook your head, “what?” you asked looking up at him, judith playing with a set of cars next to you.

“You here? You looked like you were on another planet.” He stated, taking a seat next to you.

“Yup, just…reminsiting.” You smiled, and Daryl gave you a sweet smile and gave you a kiss on the head.

“What? The heat reminding you of those hot summer georgia nights?” He raised an eyebrow.

You looked at him, and gave him a kiss.

“Exactly.” You smiled.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fancfiction #norman reedus #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl

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ronearoundblindly · 10 months ago

Note

WAIT jimmy + a kiss in public

Strange New World, a tale for Valentine's Day 2024

Jimmy Dobyne x professor!reader from Common Education

Summary: After years of this secret, on-and-off relationship with Jimmy (a student only a few years younger than you), he's determined to make it official before his graduation.

Warnings for a man who knows what he wants ⚠️woah boi⚠️, referenced smutty times, and Jimmy maybe turning me into a fan of the South g'damn. MINORS DNI. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 2k

You hate the habit and the smell, but at least James Dobyne’s smoking makes him predictable.

He’s a sculpted, contrasting vision in his crisp suit, something majestic about the billowing plumes pushed so deftly from his mouth. It warms you even though the breeze envelops your shoulders and flutters the black satin of your gown.

The Dean’s List party—a formal celebration for the upcoming graduates—is always a big deal for students and faculty, and it just so happens to be the only campus event where you both have had reason to attend.

Just not together.

None of these people really know about you. Jimmy is not a major in your field, and he hasn’t been in a class of yours for over three years now, but you’re still hesitant to ‘come out’ as a couple. This party doesn’t even involve plus-ones. It’s more taboo to be seen as a pair here than anywhere else.

Instead, you’ve found him outside with his vice.

He sees you immediately, taking a long drag of his cigarette, blatantly undressing you with his eyes, not unlike how he left hot kisses up your skin while he zipped you up two hours ago.

You grin and swing the skirt of your dress playfully. “Wha’ch’doing?”

The searing tip dies out while Jimmy cracks his own smile.

“Tryna cover the taste of ya,” he husks, wiping the corner of his mouth.

You strain to hold your amusement though your thoughts are transported to when he helped you with the small clasp on your strappy heels and slid his hand all the way up your leg. He snapped the gusset of your panties for fun before moving them aside.

You have to clear your throat. “And the whole dinner you just ate couldn’t do that?”

“No,” he adds slyly. He’s natural and happy as he leans in, reaching for a hug and a kiss, but you panic.

“Jimmy, not here.”

“Why not? We came here from the same apartment.” He has the wherewithal to lower his voice, exhaling another puff of smoke. “I sleep at your’s most nights. That whole crowd is celebrating a bunch of kids graduating out of this system, so if not here, and if not now, when?”

You can’t resist pointing out his own word. “Kids…”

He straightens, stance defensive and eyes detached, the picture of a film noir character.

“If you had your way, you’d only acknowledge I exist once I’m good and gone, Teach—” he flicks ash off the cig “—tucked back away in Tennessee.”

“That’s not true,” you deflate at the mention of him leaving.

You want to hold him, you really do, but your whole body screams in awareness of the few others loitering outside the event for a minute of fresh air.

“Well, that’s what it feels like.” He stomps out the butt of his cigarette. “They do this every year, don’t they? Fair to say they expect us to mingle.

“Then let’s mingle. And you—“ Jimmy reaches out again, sure to tough your bare neck this time “—are gonna call me your boyfriend.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He uses the same finger to brush away one of your dangling earrings. “Introduce me as your boyfriend to someone here, right now.”

“People don’t need to know we’ve been…intimate,” you gulp back.

“Intimacies often end up in marriage. People’d know about that, wouldn’t they? Eventually.”

“Jimmy…”

You don’t know whether to run away or drop your panties at the dark look he pins you with, but that is the exact problem.

You’re worried about how the man who fucked you in the dress on your kitchen counter earlier—the one who called you greedy for desperately begging to come a second time before leaving the apartment—is going to behave in public to your colleagues. You’ve had to be so careful for years, and you fear the very real possibility that Jimmy will break. He might not care about his reputation, but you do; you have to care.

Quietly, you ask, “and what if I can’t do it?”

He looks around, clearly disappointed.

“Woman,” he huffs, standing within an inch but making no contact with any part of you, “I’m sayin’ if you can’t choose us, then we never existed.”

He has every right. You’ve been at war with your heart all these years, and it’s high time you declare a victor.

Jimmy Dobyne is twenty-eight years old, and he’s more than proven he adores you. It’s only at your insistence this has been secret for so long.

You give in.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” he beams, giddy and boyish, and you hope beyond hope that he’ll keep it together.

He offers his arm. You take it, thrilled at the substance of the thick sleeve. The moment does feel fancy and official.

As you pass beneath the archway inside though, you round on him.

“But under no circumstances are you to call me ‘Teach,’ got it?” Because that’s all you need to really blow up your life.

Jimmy holds your hand fast to the crook of his arm, bowing his head ever-so slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes but accept, stepping into the noisy, enormous ballroom, together, his hand still sheltering yours.

“Don’t worry. I’mma pick the stuffiest looking guy,” Jimmy muses, “someone so aloof ‘e won’t care a lick what you’re even saying.”

That’s when you see him—your ex.

The man who wrecked the flow of your life and trampled on your self-esteem is talking to a pretty, young colleague, and Jimmy is steering you right for them.

“Not him,” you hiss, savagely gripping Jimmy’s arm.

“Why not?”

“I’m telling you. Please, don’t—”

“Too late. I’ve made eye contact.”

Tyler is rarely at these function, and if it weren’t a university-wide event, he likely wouldn’t be here now. That was the beauty of polar-opposite departments; it served you well until the one only moment you needed it to serve you.

“Long time, no see.”

Bespectacled with salty streaks in his dark hair and a haughty expression that radiates superiority, you are not surprised Tyler fit the criteria for men-who-don’t-listen. You force a smile anyway.

“Tyler…it’s been a while.” Do not faint. Do not punch him. Do not tip that bastard’s scotch right into his face. “Jimmy,” you motion. “This is Tyler Brinwood.”

“Doctor Tyler Brinwood,” he corrects, “and this is Giselle Whitley, my department co-chair.”

Of course. Of fucking course.

For a man so consistently belittling of your education, god forbid you forget about his.

“Oh, yes, Missus Whitley—“ whose husband is a well-known banker and about two decades older “—I’ve heard great things. You’ve been a wiz at securing funding.”

“Thank you. It’s a lot harder than it looks,” she says with a wink.

Jimmy makes it clear he doesn’t recognize either name, and he wouldn’t because you’ve never talked about it, ever.

You snap back to the point of this horror show.

“Tyler, Giselle, this is James Dobyne.” A sharp breath in flares your nostrils. “My boyfriend.”

Your ex chuckles in the most humorless way.

“Interesting. Certainly giving the term ‘boy’ a run for its money, eh, Dusty?” He takes a sip of his scotch and looks to Giselle and then you for validation.

“What did you just call her?” Jimmy asks flatly, a hard edge to his tone that implies volumes of distaste.

“It’s about the smell of old books, that’s all.” Tyler can’t believe no one else finds this amusing.

Jimmy is more shocked by this stuffy, tactless man than when he walked up. “Why would you call a lady ‘dusty’?”

Giselle makes a face. “I’m afraid I agree with Mister Dobyne.”

You hope it chafes Tyler that his own friend already remembers Jimmy’s name.

“Well…” Tyler licks his lips and waves his free hand dismissively. “Old friends have…inside jokes.”

You’re not laughing. You’re actually about ready to crawl into a hole and seal it with a boulder.

“Giving that term ‘old’ a run for its money, huh, Brentwood,” Jimmy rumbles in the most sincerely cruel voice you’ve ever heard from him.

If you could carry just one photograph with you for the rest of your life, it would be a shot of Tyler’s face right there.

“It’s Brinwood.”

Giselle discreetly covers her grin with a large swig of her white wine. The men continue to stare each other down.

“So Jaime—“ asshole, you think “—are you a history major?”

Jimmy lets that slide. “Business.”

“Ah yes, the most common curriculum at this prestigious institution. Plan to do anything with your degree?”

Boisterous, pompous mother-fucker, you internally rage. You have the urge to spin around and leave without another word.

“Actually,” Jimmy starts with excitement, curling his arm around your waist as if sensing your will to run, “I took over my family’s general store when I was fourteen—nineteen, if you looked at the official paperwork—and I plan to expand the parking lot into a permanent farmer’s market.” He waits for Tyler, but there’s no immediate response. “I’m sorry, did you follow that? What do you study again?”

“I teach mathematics.”

“No shame in that,” Jimmy adds easily. “Love numbers. Been keeping the books since I was in elementary school.”

“Pure mathematics,” Tyler specifies, bitterness souring his already puckered look.

Jimmy sucks at his teeth in mock admiration.

“Wow. You plannin’ to…do anything with that?”

The silence that follows is palpable.

Giselle snorts while you try to corale a runaway, bug-eyed expression. If you had a drink in your hand, you would have choked.

When Tyler continues to frown, Jimmy looks at you and smiles sweetly, no hint of judgment for your ex’s behavior to be found.

“Ready, beautiful?” He rubs the satin at your side, and Jimmy cannot possibly understand how comforted you are by his presence.

Then he turns back, his point made, the ultimatum complete.

“If you’ll excuse us, it was nice to meet you, doctor, ma’am, but we’ve got a lot of mingling to do before the night’s over.”

He kisses your temple, a gesture somehow more intimate than if he’d bent you backwards and made out with you. It implies you’ve already done that. He’s announcing this isn’t new. Jimmy’s showing that he is neither a boy, nor a recent addition to your life, and that Tyler is, in fact, an old-old friend no longer inside your sphere.

Tyler’s niceties are barely audible, but Giselle wiggles her fingers with a cute “tohdaloo.”

Jimmy guides you through a throng of faceless people. You realize it doesn’t matter who sees you because none of them matter to this: to you and Jimmy. This is the pair of you, a couple, a girlfriend and a boyfriend and no one else.

Your boyfriend keeps you glued to his side until you stop at the bar. He releases your hip so you can face him, his crooked finger holding your chin high.

There’s a loving sympathy in his soft blue eyes.

“Thank you,” Jimmy whispers and gently kisses your lips, hardly enough to transfer your lipstick. Regardless, he checks the supple line with a sweep of his thumb. “Sorry I picked that guy though.”

Jimmy’s shrug of apology is plenty.

He might never understand, but that little interaction has soothed more fears than you could ever voice about how real what you have with Jimmy is.

Jimmy comes from a simple life. It’s straight-forward and without fuss. You do the chore; the chore is done. Rarely do social complications come up. Rarely would emotions derail the success of that work. New York is different, and it’s felt so wrong to expose a man brought up so simply, so wholesomely, to that complex and unfair game of egos.

He deserves a simple love, but you do not live in a simple world.

And yet, you already love him.

Jake Jensen and a kiss where it doesn't hurt ⬅️ ➡️ Ransom Drysdale and a kiss out of spite

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @spectre-posts

#ro answers #jimmy dobyne fanfiction #jimmy dobyne x reader #professor!reader #jimmy dobyne fanfic #jimmy dobyne x you #jimmy dobyne x y/n #modern au #modern day jimmy dobyne

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tillthelandslide · 1 year ago

Text

Same For You (9): Our Secret

Series Warnings: slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap, complicated relationship (low-key unhealthy dynamics), eventual love...

Series Masterlist

(8) Studio Sessions

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @theoriginalwhatsername @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊)

The band are cramped into the small corridor which was considered "back stage", she was pacing up and down what little room she had. They did this gig every week, the band were a contracted performer, they did an hour every single Saturday but today was different. She was nervous and unbelievably so. She was worried she'd forget the lyrics, or she'd mess up on the guitar and throw the whole band off.

Matty and Jamie had invited so many people, too many. The pairs friends, some of whom worked within the industry filled out the room, there was barely any space for incomers, but she didn't mind, knowing the guys who were now her friends, would be smiling up at her on that stage. She knew they'd be at the same table they were sat at that first night. It had been four weeks since then, she had spent most days with them since that day, but so much had changed. They were her friends now, that felt odd to admit but they were her friends. She knew they had her back but she was still unbelievably anxious.

The small door creaks open and her head snaps far too quickly to the noise, almost giving herself whiplash. Her nerves settle somewhat when she sees the curly haired man smiling widely at her. He was clad in black suit trousers, white shirt tucked in, the sleeves slightly rolled up. She couldn't deny, he looked good. She's instantly reminded of the still fairly new revelation that she did indeed fancy him, liked him even.

"There she is, woman of the hour" he says, stepping towards her, hugging her before she got the chance to deny him. He smells like cigarettes but his scent peeks through too, something comparable to cedar wood, or sandal wood, she wasn't sure. A spicy undertone lingers and something earthy too. She learnt that, the scent was the perfume he chose to wear, but through all that, through the cigarettes and the perfume, there was him: he smelt musky and warm but also sweet, he smelt, like Matty.

"I hate you" she breathes out, voice barely coming out. His eyes widen and he releases a puff of air through his noise, silently laughing at her words. The confession doesn't surprise him (even though it wasn't true) Matty was half expecting this day to come, the day where she hated him, he thought most people ended up hating him eventually. Not with her though, she knew no matter what he did, no matter how harsh or unjustified, she'd always be there, wanting him in her life, unable to hate him, for he was her... in some ways.

"What have I done now?" He asks, half joking, pulling back to look at her.

"There's so many people out there Matty!" She says, lightly hitting his chest.

"Hey!" He says, gently grasping her wrist which landed against his chest, his thumb grazes the skin, back and forth twice before he lets go "you'll be fine. I know you will" he says and she can't help but believe him.

"You can't be back here Healy' they hear Clara say, both turning towards her. Of course she's joking but Matty still raises his arms up in surrender, slowly backing up to leave through the door he came in.

"You'll be fine okay? You've got this" he says and she nods. He thinks about telling her how good she looked, but ultimately decides not to. Ross.

As soon as he leaves her nerves are back and she's pacing again. She does a total of four lengths of the corridor, her bandmates doing their own rituals. Jay drumming a beat on his leg, Clara smoking a joint, Abbie with her eyes shut, thinking of something completely unknown to Y/n. Four lengths and the door is creaking back open, she turns again seeing Ross. Her already laboured breath almost stops completely as she sees him. He stopped her world from spinning momentarily, until it's only her and him and them, together. Until its spinning again, faster than it does with anyone else. She knew no matter how hard she tried to describe her feelings towards him, she would fall short. He was everything, since the first day and every day since.

His hair is up in a neat bun and his beard looks as if it's been freshly groomed. His smell invades her senses and her eyes rake down his body quickly, trying not to make her desire or attraction too obvious.

He was dressed in black suit trousers and a white shirt, almost identical to Matty. His sleeves aren't rolled and sit properly against his wrists, but her eyes fall to his chest, revealed by undone buttons at the top of his shirt. The first two are undone but the third is loose and she feels a need to pluck it undone, revealing more of him. She notices the necklace around his neck, a simple chain and her knees almost buckle at the sight.

Images flash through her head, images where she tugs against the chain, sending his lips against hers, sending him forward, into her. She wills the thoughts away, forcing a smile onto her lips.

"Hi" he smiles, taking in her outfit now, she wears an outfit consisting of all black, black trousers that flare slightly but hug her tightly, extenuating her thighs and bum. Her top is a soft cotton like material but is a corset style, the middle dips fairly low and Ross actively has to stop himself looking at the swell of her breasts. The fabric stops at her waist, curved in a v, the middle piece hitting the top of her belly button, meaning a small slither of skin was revealed and he almost swears when he sees the shimmer of a piercing. They shouldn't be thinking these thoughts, having these feelings, wanting what they so desperately wanted. They knew that more than anything else, fully aquatinted with the idea now.

"Hi" he forces out, his voice gravelly and it sends thrills through her body. He apprehensively steps forward,not wanting to break the bubble that surrounded them. But he wanted to be closer to her. So he pushes his desire down, his features turning softer as he smiles at her.

"Matty invited a lot of people" her voice shakes slightly and he immediately knows she's nervous. His hands find her hips, lightly pulling her closer.

"And Jamie..." Ross says and he feels her nod.

Her arms weave around his back, resting against his shoulder blades as she tucks her head into his lower chest, she nuzzles there, smelling him secretly as she does. She feels the muscles contract under her touch as his own arms wander up from her hips, seizing her small waist, squeezing the flesh once before his grasp loosens.

She feels the ghost of his lips against her head.

"You're going to smash it" he says and she leans back to look at him.

"What if I forget the words... Or mess up on the guitar and throw off the others?" her voice is rushed and Ross breathes deeply, a silent reminder that she should too. She mimics his actions, her shoulders slumping as she does, a weight lifted almost immediately. She was surprised by how quickly he grounded her.

"You won't... And if you do, just laugh it off... Breathe and carry on okay? We all mess up sometimes... I still do to this day" he says, his words making her feel better.

"Okay..."

"And I'll be there okay? Just look at me if you need to" he offers and she nods, hugging him one last time before he's walking backwards to leave.

His back meets the door and he begins pushing it slightly, not before a smirk settles on his lips.

"Look good by the way" he says, eyes dancing across her figure, slow and torturous, and then he's gone.

"Jesus Christ" she murmurs, clutching her thighs and shaking her head, reminding herself to get her head out of the clouds, out of the gutter.

"He wants you so bad" she feels a hand on her shoulder and she turns, Abbie staring down at her and smirking.

"Stop... You know we can't"

"doesn't mean you don't want to... And I don't blame you, he's hot" she stares at the door that he left through.

"Need I remind you, you're gay Abbie?" She asks and Abbie laughs, shrugging.

"Exactly... I'm gay and that man is still fucking fine" y/n laughs at that, before she lets Abbie lead her to the rest of the band. They form a circle, arms wrapping around each other's shoulders.

"Let's go out there and show them what we've got aye?" Jay asks and Clara and Abbie nod. Their eyes all fall on her and Jay raises his eyebrows.

"You're fucking amazing. Remember that. You've got this" Jay says and she nods.

"Yeah. yeah!" She says, they're all then letting out howls and barks like a bunch of maniacs, something they always did to make each other laugh before a show, to ease the tension. The band make their way onto the stage before she does but she pokes her head around the side, spotting the boys and Jamie, all smiling as the band take their places, she watches as they cheer, George placing his fingers in his mouth and blowing out a loud whistle.

She then walks on and everyone's cheers grow louder making her smile and laugh, shaking her head as she looks out. She smiles and waves at the small group of people who attend every week, they cheer for her.

"Damn there really is a lot of you here tonight" she hears Clara say and she smiles, hands grasping her own microphone, adjusting it slightly.

"We're 'The Love Of Thieves' and we're going to perform some covers... but also some original songs tonight... This is one we wrote with some friends of ours" her eyes flick to the back of the venue, spotting the boys, all of whom smile widely at her, Matty putting his thumbs up at her.

They begin playing one of the songs they had recorded with the guys, a track titled "Feel It Coming"

"can see it in your eyes, I can feel your body shake, I look at you and see myself , A broken mirror that tears and breaks, A victim of my own reflection, Staring down the barrel of a loaded gun" she sings, her voice is slightly shaky but it's not overly obvious. Her eyes land on Ross who mouths a "breathe", she does and instantly feels better.

They all join in on the chorus, harmonies sounding perfect and the crowd really love it. She can see Jamie filming them on his phone and she smiles, flashing him a toothy grin, knowing it would probably end up on his story with a plea to join Dirty Hit. She also sees Matty filming, and she smiles at him too, he holds a thumb up at her again.

"I can feel it coming, feel it coming, feel it coming, Can't you see it in my eyes, I can see the truth inside, I can feel it coming, feel it coming, I can feel it!" They continue pushing until the song ends and everyone cheers.

"Thank you!" She says, smiling across at the people, scanning the crowd once over.

"This is really cool... Thanks for coming everyone, we do this show every Saturday, but tonight feels very special" she says, eyes landing on the boys at the back of her venue again, blushing slightly when they smile back widely at her.

"This next one is one of my favourites..." she says, beginning to play "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac.

"If they come on tour with us... they're playing this" Jamie says, turning to the boys, all of whom nod.

"She's amazing..." Ross says, eyes trained on her. Adam, George, Jamie and Matty all look at him, all sensing the same thing. He was obsessed.

"Damn you're so whipped and she's not even your girl" George says, making the other guys laugh (Matty's is forced)

"Shut up" Ross mumbles. Matty's eyes never leave the man, sighing to himself. He deserved her, Ross was good and so was she, he had to remind himself of that.

They perform some more songs and a cover or two, eventually finishing their set and thanking everyone for coming again. Ross is on his feet before she's even stepped a foot off the stage and he meets her there, grasping her waist in his hand and swinging her around as he hugs her.

"You're fucking amazing" he says, placing her down as the rest of the group join them.

"Killing it love" Matty says making her smile.

"you really are" she hears Jamie say and she smiles, stepping forward to hug him.

"Good to see you again old man" she jokes and he smiles widely, giving her a side hug, they speak briefly, Jamie checking in on how the band were feeling about the deal, she asks to speak to him privately later.

Before she can say another word her name is being called from behind her and she frowns before she excuses herself.

She finds Abbie who is calling her, her girlfriend Olivia wanting to say hello to her. Ross watches as the two girls hug, he watches as y/n smiles widely, she watches as she laughs with the other two girls, he watches as she turns, eyes not finding his but finding Matty's.

"Matty!" She calls "come here for a second please" and Ross feels jealousy pang in his chest.

Ross watches as Matty comes to stand at her side, hand flat against her lower back, touching the slither of skin that's revealed.

"Matty this is Olivia... Abbie's girlfriend, she's a bit obsessed with you" y/n says making the girl blush.

"Is that so?' Matty says, raising his eyebrows, eyes not leaving hers, despite the other two women staring at him. His eyes eventually leave hers and he smiles at the girl.

"Lovely to meet you" he says kindly, they all continue their conversation and Ross sighs, watching as they laughed, watching as Matty began running his hand down her back slowly.

George notices him staring and states "nothings going on there you know?" He asks And Ross sighs.

"You know I kept telling myself the same thing... Now I'm not sure" he says. The truth is he had no right to be jealous, he knew that, they weren't together, she wouldn't allow that, they were - in her words - just them. He reminded himself daily that she was not his, that she was doing the right thing for her band and for herself, but he couldn't help but want her. It was almost like a basic human need, like water and sleep and food. He needed her like she was air. He knew she was figuring things out with Matty, she was open with him about that, but he couldn't help but feel jealous looking at the pair.

'Figuring things out' left a lot to be imagined, was she figuring out if she liked him? That he could handle, Ross knew Matty better than anyone, knew the guy he truly was, through the 'Truman Black' façade he put across, he also wasn't blind, he knew he was a good looking guy, he knew most people fancied him, hell he was pretty sure he even fancied him to a certain extent. He also knew what Matty was like, truly, he was a true and fierce friend, he was loving and determined and he would die for the ones he loved. He could deal with her figuring out whether she just thought he was hot, he could even deal with the idea of her fancying him a little bit. But her figuring out whether she wanted to be with him instead of Ross? That thought destroyed him.

"They just get each other, they're just friends though" George says, making Ross shake his head in disbelief, but then she's turning to him, smiling widely. She turns back and he frowns, thinking that's it, she sees her say something to the group, but then she's facing him again and walking toward him.

She's at his side next, brushing against him as she talks to the group, listening to their compliments, blushing deeply. Matty is still talking to her band members and she realises Jamie has joined him, but she didn't mind, she had Ross.

She noticed him looking down at her from the corner of her eye and she looks up at him when the conversation shifts way from her.

"Want to go outside for a bit?" He asks and she nods, allowing him to weave his hand into hers and letting him lead them outside. A few people are smoking so he continues around a corner, where no one is standing, not letting her hand go when they stop.

He towers over her and she cranes her head to look up at them. They have two silly happy smiles on their faces and their cheeks begin to hurt with how much they're smiling.

"You're really amazing you know that?" He says and she smiles. Something has shifted between them, it was obvious. Something was present in the air between them... something different, something more.

"You might've mentioned it once or twice" she says, making him chuckle and squeeze her hand. A silence falls between them and she watches as he looks over her, his features slowly falling. She can almost see the wheels turning in his mind and she frowns, knowing something is up.

"What did the girls want to say to Matty?" He asks and the pin drops. Of course this was about Matty.

"Oh nothing really" she laughs "Olivia - Ab's girlfriend, she's low key obsessed with him, it's kind of a big joke between the band, so I was just introducing them" she explains and Ross shakes his head. He was so stupid.

Oh he thinks.

"Oh" he says, feeling like a fool for even thinking it was something else.

"I told you nothing's happening there.... just figuring it out" she says, words trailing off as she looks up at him.

"nothing can happen... With either of you" she says and he frowns, his hand is still holding hers but her words make him feel like he should let go.

"Oh' he repeats sadly.

"It's not a good idea Ross... We're working together now" she says and he realises she has never once said she doesn't want this.

"Come on... You feel this..." He gestures between them "you feel what I feel... Who are we to deny that?' he says, she must admit, he makes a good argument. But she forces herself to shake her head. She couldn't... Not just because they were working together. She just couldn't.

"We can't" she says and he frowns.

"Why?", please don't say Matty he thinks.

"We're working together Ross, we can't be doing this" her words don't sound as convincing anymore and so she lets him step closer, only taking a small step backwards, not really putting that much space between them. She lets his hands run the bare skin of her sides, she lets his large hands clamp around her waist. She lets him step in between her opening thighs, lets him press her against the concrete of the wall.

He lowers his face slowly, eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips, stopping when they were centimetres away, their lips nearly grazing when he speaks.

"I really want to kiss you... I've wanted to kiss you since G's... since the start..." he admits, his breathing is laboured like hers, deep and heavy sighs falling from the other.

"Ross... We shouldn't" but she inches closer to him, tasting the Guinness he had been drinking on his breath. She wanted it too, since the very first time they met and especially since the dinner at George and Charli's.

"We shouldn't" he confirms, making her nod, her bottom lip bumping against his slightly as her head moved up and then down. He's enthralled by the way it bounces slightly and he watches as her tongue runs along it, trying to taste him, despite them barely touching for more than a split second.

"I shouldn't be holding you like his" he says, hands gripping her waist slightly harsher and he has to hold back a grunt at the way her breath hitches.

"I shouldn't be able to feel your skin against mine right now" he says, curling his hand slightly, fingertips moving against the bottom of her top, against her stomach, she feels the knuckles graze her belly button and she gasps.

"I shouldn't be hearing those pretty little noises come from you and I definitely shouldn't be wanting to kiss you' he says and she nods again, lips grazing his again. Except this time she slows when her head moves back down, lips properly grazing his now.

"Stop me..." He demands but she can't.

"Please y/n stop me... Because if I kiss you I'm afraid I won't be able to stop" he says, lips touching hers with every word, yet they still hadn't properly kissed.

"No" she gasps and he's suddenly pushing forwards, lips firmly pressed against hers. He sighs against her mouth and feels her sigh against his. Its like her dream, expect its not a dream, its real this time. He's really there in front of her, with his plump lips that taste like stout and him, moving against hers. He's tangible, she can really touch him and she is, her hands are flying to his chest, feeling the way the muscles contracted under her touch. He was so reactive to her and she loved it.

Her lips are soft against his and he sighs deeply again. His hand is placed against her jaw, thumb moving against her cheek, it's sweet and gentle. He's addicted but he needs more. He's worried more than anything, that she will change her mind, so before that happens he gently runs his tongue across her bottom lip, asking for access which she gladly gives him.

His tongue is warm and possessive when it meets hers, she feels him everywhere and the sensation has her hands drifting up, clinging onto his shoulders harder, making him grunt into her mouth. The sound does something to her, awakens something inside her. She moans and pushes forward, meeting his tongue with equal force and fervour as his. She had never been kissed like this before, she didn't even think kisses could feel like this. This intense... This powerful.

When his tongue pushes more harshly against hers she moans loudly and Ross has to pull back from the kiss to collect himself. His forehead falls against her chest, eyes shutting, hands clamping around her waist before they loosen and sooth against the skin, afraid he's hurt her.

"One sec love..." He says, making her giggle. One hand weaves its way up his back, landing on the nape of his neck, toying with the strands that have slipped from his bun. He hums against her. His head moves upwards, leaning his forehead against hers and his eyes open at the noise, his dark eyes which are ridden with lust, soften and he smiles. A cute, huge one which makes her heart flutter again.

"That was..." His words trail off, for he can't come up with a word adequate to describe that kiss. She nods, understanding what he means. His brown orbs flick between her eyes and lips again, sighing, his hand grasps her face in his hold again, thumb trailing down across her cheek until he's grazing her bottom lip which is more swollen than usual. His eyes follow the movement of his thumb, watching the way her mouth dips open slightly, before pursing slightly, kissing the pad of his thumb. That has his eyes snapping upwards to hers, they smile in sync, perfectly timed.

"Sorry love. I just need one more" he says, pressing his mouth to hers again. She takes what he gives, needing it now, she knew this shouldn't be happening, but now she had it, she wouldn't be able to stop. His mouth envelops her bottom lip, tugging it slightly, mouth opening, head turning, lips moving against each other so naturally it's like they've done it a thousand times before. Kissing her is like playing bass, it feels natural, it feels right and he is convinced it was what he was born to do.

"Ross" she murmurs, pulling away slightly.

"We can't tell anyone about this..." She says, feeling bad that she even needed to say it. She didn't want to force him to hide anything from Matty and the rest but he too thought it was probably best.

"Of course" he says.

"Our secret" she says and he smiles again at that, liking, no, loving the sound of it. Something that was just there's.

"I like that' he says, smiling widely down at her. She sighs and mumbles a "fuck it" grabbing his chain and tugging him towards her once again, their lips already open when they meet, tongues and teeth clashing. He grunts into her mouth, moaning at the way she just tugged at his chain, feeling the metal lightly dig into the back of his neck, not that he minded, not one bit.

When one of his large hands leaves her waist, trailing down and curving at the last instance to grab a handful of her arse, she moans into his open mouth, having to pull away to stop herself from begging him to take her home.

"We should stop" she says as his lips try to move against hers again. He sighs. But it's a content one.

"We should" another kiss shared. "Ross" he pulls away. He sighs. It's too hard. Its too hard to stop when he needs her more than he needs oxygen.

"You're a good kisser" she admits, smiling up at him. Her words stroke his ego and he can't help but smirk. The smirk only making her want to smear her mouth to his again. So she does.

"So are you..." he says against her mouth making her moan into his.

"Jesus christ" he says, making her giggle before their lips reconnect.

They eventually return to the rest of the group, and Ross feels sad when Matty tugs her away from him and the group as soon as he gets the chance. Her heart longs to be at Ross' side, but she still allows Matty to lead her away, insisting she met some friends of his.

She can't help but feel slightly zoned out during the conversations she has with Matty's friends, eyes constantly searching the room to find Ross', vision always narrowing when she sees him, eyes landing on his lips, which curve into a smirk when he catches her looking.

She blushes, turning away, finding him staring not that long after. It continues like that for the rest of the night, one catching the other looking, one smirking or blushing after being caught. She eventually gets to return to the group, gets to return to Ross, and the way he holds her thigh under the table, just like that night at Charli and George's, has her head spinning.

This time she doesn't stop him, she doesn't get annoyed and doesn't stand abruptly. She allows the pad of his thumb to graze her thigh, allows him to grip the covered flesh, practically massaging it under his touch. Her eyes flick back and forth to him, taking in the way he smirked as he raised his drink to his mouth, the head of his beer coating his moustache, his tongue peeking out to remove it, teasing her. Constantly teasing her.

This was wrong. She knew that. But she couldn't help herself. If it was wrong, why did it feel so right?

She catches Jamie at one point during the night, heading back from the rest room, she's smiling widely when she sees him and he knows something is up.

"We'll do it, we'll sign the contract" she says excitedly, when Jamie doesn't reply she wonders why, she realises that he's looking behind her, a wide, huge smile resting on his lips. She turns and sees him. Curls falling in front of his face, lips red from the wine he's been drinking, lips pulled taut in a huge smile, eyes sparkling.

He's with her in two steps then, tugging her upwards, picking her up, forcing her legs around his hips just so she doesn't fall. He spins them, she feels dizzy but she feels free, alive, high.

"Knew you'd say yes!" he says, face tucked into her neck.

Ultimately, Matty raised her up, he made her feel high, on life and on him. But she knew when he would tumble down he would drag her with him. Perhaps they were too similar, too alike to work fully.

Ross grounded her, but he set her soul ablaze too, she soared with him, flew, high on life and him, but the string that attached them was strong, never breaking or wearing away, she was safe with him. Her heart was safe.

Her thoughts and feelings were clearer now, but somehow it complicated things. She liked Ross, really really liked him, he was everything, the air she needed to breathe, the passion coursing through her body, the blood in her veins, the music she loved, everything.

But she still couldn't deny that she liked Matty, she liked the way they were kindred spirits, forever searching for that person who understood them without trying. She found that with Matty, he healed parts of her, but she couldn't help but worry that he also had that power to completely destroy her.

She was worried more than anything, that she'd listen to her heart, and lose them both.

(10) Dylan

#same for you the 1975 series #the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy x reader #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald x oc #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matt healy fic #matty healy x oc

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