#smoking booth album

[fr-msfrh]

Stream via Spotify

lean$moke solo album <333 tmr <3

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

💨Studio Sesh & Smoke w/ Freddy D💨

[little-diable]

Always have, always will – Dean Winchester (smut)

This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa fic for @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior <3 I hope you love this little story as much as I do! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: It's been years since Dean and (y/n) have parted ways, but perhaps this year's Christmas season is finally the right time to find their way back together.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, very fluffy, only a tiny tiny bit of angst, but full of love and nostalgia

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.2k words)

“Sam?” Dean’s gritty voice echoed through the bunker, eyes focused on the neatly wrapped box that had been placed on his bed. He waited for his brother to answer the call of his name, waited for the sound of Sam’s boots meeting the cold ground, but nothing could be heard, leaving Dean engulfed by a thick blanket of silence. 

He approached the box with caution, as if it were a dormant trap waiting to pull him in. Gingerly Dean picked it up, turning it in his hands. The wrapping paper crinkled beneath his touch, curiosity mingled with suspicion in his piercing eyes. Slowly he unpacked the box, freezing as his eyes fell upon an all too familiar leather bound book. 

Dean sank down on his bed, holding the photo album in his hands, eyes taking in the old leather, letting his thumb stroke the fabric with a smile tugging on his lips. Memories, frozen in time, spilled out before him like an ancient tome of secrets. His heart skipped a beat as he leafed through the pages, images of laughter and shared glances filling the spaces between the faded photographs. It had been years since he had last seen this book, back at Bobby’s where he had reached for it whenever he could, with her pressed to his side. 

It took Dean a few moments to notice the neatly folded paper that had been attached to the leather, reaching for the letter with trembling hands. He’d always recognise her handwriting, the slightly cursive words pressed into thin paper like ink tattooed into his skin. Dean couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes, having to blink a few times before he could focus on the letter she had written to him. 

“My dearest Dean, 

It has been years since I’ve last allowed myself to even speak your name. A name I’ve hated for longer than I’d like to admit, well perhaps not the name, but the memories tied to it. But the truth is, Dean, as much as I told myself to hate you for breaking my heart, for pushing me away, I can’t help but long for you. But now I think I finally understand why you did it, at least I like to think I do. 

I’ve been holding onto this photo album for a while now, but it’s only fair you also get to have it for some time. Sam told me you’ll be around for the Christmas days, I’d like to see you, catch up on the past years. I’ll be at Suzie’s this afternoon. 

I'll be the one trying to figure out how the hell I got so sentimental all of a sudden.

I love you, Dean

Always have, always will.” 

……

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled his nostrils, hanging in the air like a thick cloud of smoke, a pleasant scent Dean would long for whenever he was away with Sam, dreaming of this very café. It took him a few moments to find her, hiding away in a booth in the back, the same one he and Sam always sat in. (Y/n) had her eyes focused on her phone, cuddled into the big knitted sweater she wore. 

Dean ran a hand through his snow covered hair, shuffling out of his jacket as he slowly approached her. Like a thunderstorm about to strike it seemed she could feel him before she saw him, slowly lifting her gaze, unable to bite down the smile tugging on her lips. She had always been beautiful, a rare kind of beauty Dean had been in love with ever since he had been a young boy, but now she was even more beautiful, at least to Dean she was.

“You came.” Her whispers were drowned out by the laugh leaving Dean, hand stretched out to pull (y/n) to her feet and straight into his arms. He felt her deeply inhale his familiar scent, clinging to Dean as if he was an old memory about to fade, unable to hold on for long. The two parted only slowly, eyes wandering over one another’s features before they sat down, vis-à-vis from one another.

Their hands stayed connected, resting on the table with their fingers interlaced, falling back into their old pattern all too easily. Neither of them dared to look away, needing to take in every inch of the face they hadn’t seen in years, needing to etch this very moment into their minds. 

“I missed you, thank you for the album.” Dean’s voice carried something calm, something awfully comforting (y/n) had been longing for ever since they had parted ways. The mere memory of that very day had haunted the two, replaying in their minds every single night, wondering where they had gone wrong, wondering why Dean had pushed her away for reasons she now only slowly began to understand.

“I missed you too, even though it took me a while to accept that. And like I wrote in the letter, it’s only fair you get to have it too. Sammy told me how much you talk about it.” For a second Dean froze, wondering if Sam and (y/n) had been in touch all these years. Not once had his brother mentioned (y/n) – perhaps he had simply tried to protect Dean and his broken heart, but yet Dean couldn’t help but doubt his brother’s motives. 

“I didn’t know you and Sam kept in touch.” Suzie, the owner of the café approached the two with her coffee pot, filling their cups. 

“(Y/n)’s a regular here, she and your brother meet almost every week, don’t you?” The woman was all too oblivious to the tension now sticking to Dean, slowly pulling his hands from (y/n)’s warm ones. She tried to chase his touch, just for a millisecond, before she began to realise that they had just entered a rather uncomfortable territory, no longer sticking to the nostalgia this place offered to Dean. 

“He was there for me after, well, you know. Sam tried to make me understand why you pushed me away, I needed somebody to talk to after you were no longer in my life.” Dean reached for the coffee, momentarily watching the steam rise like souls rising from their graves, leaving their decomposing bodies behind. Pain thumped through his system, clinging to his every muscle and bone. 

“I,” he placed the cup back down, letting his calloused thumb stroke along the rim. “I needed to protect you, I couldn’t concentrate with you around, could only worry about you, not on our hunts. And just the thought of something happening to you because I was too distracted was a risk I didn’t want to take. I knew you’d be safer without me around, in some fucked up way.”

He watched tears well up in her eyes as his throat began to tighten up, struggling to keep on speaking. (Y/n) averted her gaze, watching the snow fall from the sky in never ending streams like tears dripping from her eyes. For years Dean had imagined this very moment, with her sitting close to him, allowing him to share the dark thoughts he had struggled with, the thoughts that were his own, personal hell. 

“It took me a while to understand it, but I think I get it, you hurt me, you broke my heart. But I guess that’s the price we pay in our profession, isn’t it?” A teary laugh left (y/n), hands rubbing her eyes to get rid of her tears. Dean reached for her hands once again, thumbs stroking the back of them. 

“I never stopped loving you, if that still means something to you.” He watched her pupils dilate, growing wider as if he had just shared his darkest secret with her. And yet it had never been a secret, the one thing he had always been honest with, the love he fostered for her. Dean was too slow to realise what she was doing, shifting her weight to lean over the table, lips finding his slightly parted ones. 

Dean instantly gave in, lips moving in sync with hers like they had done all these years ago. One of his hands found her cheek, cupping the soft skin to keep her close to him. The soft hum leaving (y/n) broke the two apart, allowing them to catch their breaths, looking at one another with irrevocably love swimming in their pupils. 

“Do you want to come home with me, sweetheart?”

……

“Are you sure Sammy’s not home?” She panted her words, pressed against the mattress of Dean’s bed with her naked chest exposed to his wandering eyes. Dean could only hum, lips kissing their way down to her stomach, hands already fumbling with her jeans. It hadn’t taken the two long to end up like this, searching their closeness like magnets made to fit, desperate to feel what they had been aching for since they had parted ways.

“Fuck, I missed this, missed this so much, Dean.” An almost boyish grin began to widen on Dean’s lips as he lifted his head, rising from the bed to tug his shirt over his head. He felt her eyes on him as he stepped out of his jeans, only left in his dark boxers as he helped (y/n) out of her remaining clothes. 

“Let me take care of you. You’re mine, and only mine, I hope you remember this, (y/n).” No matter how many people the two have searched comfort in, none had ever managed to make them feel like one another managed to, made for one another like puzzle pieces fitting together. His touch burned itself into her body, kisses forever lingering on her skin as Dean settled between her naked thighs, tongue swiping over her arousal covered folds.

Her moans guided him on, a sound he hadn’t heard in years, and yet he had never forgotten about it once. Late at night, when he had been aching for her, hand taking care of his desperation, he had thought back to all these nights they had shared, long faded memories Dean clung to. (Y/n) kept moaning his name, eyes fluttering close, hands tugging on his roots, hoping that he’d add more speed to his movements.

His thumb rubbed her pulsing bundle, tongue dipping into her tightness with excitement laced in his gaze, set on teasing her till she’d cry his name. He ate her out without holding back, without paying much attention to the incoherent words leaving her parted lips, high on her taste. Only as Dean felt her spasm around his tongue did he slow down his pace, letting go of her seconds before she could tumble over the edge. 

“How dare you-” her sentence was cut short by the kiss Dean pressed against her lips as he reached for a condom, only parting from (y/n) to roll it down his length. The two kept holding eye contact as he aligned himself, pushing into her after a small nod was thrown his way.

It took the both a few moments to adjust, no longer used to feeling one another like this, needing to fully relax before they could tumble over the edge together. Dean moved slowly at first, wanting to take his time with her, wanting to relish in the now unfamiliar closeness he had been dreaming of like a starving man in need of food. 

Curses left the two, echoing through his dark bedroom, alighted just enough for them to look at one another. Their moments together had always been intense, urged on by their longing, by their lust thumping through their veins like drugs, but tonight their time together had something to it neither of them could pinpoint.

“Dean,” his name rolled off her tongue all too effortlessly, a sound that would push him into his grave, Dean was sure of it. She wanted to keep on talking, wanted to express her love for the man she had unsuccessfully tried to forget these past years, forever tied to him. He dipped his dead down to kiss her, using her distraction to add even more roughness to his thrusts.

Dean fucked her into the mattress, eyes set on her naked frame, on the body he had thought of whenever he had grown lonely. She had been the one thing on his mind, the one thing Dean had been able to cling to. Both their moans guided them on, pushing them over the edge in unison. 

He clung to her, not daring to let go as they rode out their highs, desperate to prolong the moment for as long as possible. Dean dipped his head down to press a soft kiss against her swollen lips before he pulled away. She watched him disappear and reappear moments later with a towel, carefully cleaning both. 

“Will you stay?” Dean’s whispers echoed through the room, making a smile tug on (y/n)’s lips as she let go of a soft though loving “Of course I will”.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 19

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"Every time I close my eyes , it's like a dark paradise"

summary: you met someone you thought you will never see again

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 19

masterlist!

previous | chapter 18

next | chapter 20

Joel’s days bled into nights, each second stretching painfully into the next as he searched for you, his desperation sinking into his bones, gnawing at the core of him. It had been a year—a long, relentless year without you. And yet, each time the sun set, he felt the ache deepen, as if it were the first day all over again.

He barely slept, barely ate, his mind only running through endless, frayed memories and half-seen shadows, trying to piece together the face of the man who took you.

In his hands, the maps were worn soft, smudged with the faint ink of hastily scribbled notes, each line a fragment of his obsession. Every lead brought him from one shabby motel to another, each with rooms that smelled of stale smoke and peeling paint, rooms that looked like places where people vanished.

And still, you weren’t there.

Each disappointment drove him further into the kind of desperation that made him push aside his pride and seek help. He went back to Frank and Bill. They did what they could to help Joel, sheltering him, keeping him out of the FBI’s reach, printing missing posters and scattering them across countless towns, reaching strangers who might hold a shred of information.

Anything to bring you back.

Back home, Tommy, Maria, and Ellie were waging their own quiet battle to find you, doing all they could without raising suspicion. Their quiet alliance held the family together as the months dragged on, sharing hushed updates through phone calls that grew more desperate, more strained.

Ellie tried to keep her hopes up, imagining you somewhere safe, waiting for rescue. But in her heart, she could sense the tremor of fear that everyone else tried to hide.

Alone, Joel grew unraveled, each night lost to bottles of booze that only burned his throat and numbed nothing. He let the papers pile around him, scraps littering tables and floors, covering the walls of Frank and Bill's guest room as if he could somehow will them into an answer.

Sometimes, he’d find himself whispering to the empty air, as though you could hear him, as if his voice might reach through the miles. He pictured your face—so vividly, it ached—wondering if you felt him out there, searching.

Joel held that crumpled, fraying photo, it was the photo of him and you in Houston night fair a year ago. His thumb brushing over your face frozen in that photo booth smile.

It was a memory he clung to in moments of weakness—when everything had been beautiful and right, when he still believed the world held space for happiness.

“Where are you, doll? Come back to me... I can’t do this without you.” His voice cracked, swallowed by the darkness. Every silence, every cold night, brought him closer to madness. He could almost hear you whispering back, as if in the ghostly hush, your spirit hovered just beyond reach.

But across that unseen distance, your reality was twisted, tethered to the darkest kind of survival. Negan’s shadow stretched over you, growing more sinister, feeding off your misery, his cruelty sharpening with every "client" he sent your way.

Each encounter made you sick; the nauseating dread gnawed at your insides until you turned numb. He forced you to swallow handfuls of pills, snort lines of powder until the world blurred, all to make you obedient.

And you were compliant now, the fight in you dimmed to a silent acceptance. Resistance meant pain, bruises, and the relentless smirk on his face as he reminded you who held all the power. So you learned to still yourself, to play dead, just to survive the hell.

Each night, you sank further, disappearing into the numbness the drugs provided, the feeling of survival slipping through your fingers. The hollow shell you’d become didn’t fight him, didn’t flinch under his gaze or resist when his rough hands traced over your skin, marking you in ways that left scars deeper than any wound. 

He raped you over and over again. Every night, almost every day.

One night, he gave you a room of your own. A twisted gift of “freedom.”, a mockery of comfort in this prison where he kept you. He still came to you each night, creeping into the darkness, and if you moved or whimpered, his hand would clamp over your mouth as he told you, sweet as sugar, not to fight, that “we’re just playing house.”

You could barely keep your eyes open, the haze of sleeping pills thick in your head. His sickly-sweet games bled into the hours until you lost track of time. By morning, your body felt like a shell, hollow and sore, skin pulled tight over bones.

And that smell—it clung to the air, especially strong near the heavy metal door down the hall that Negan kept locked tight. A rancid, metallic odor, a reminder of something you’d rather not know.

You avoided looking at the fridge, too, its shelves stuffed with slabs of meat that didn’t look like anything from a grocery store. Your stomach turned at the thought, and you took to cooking whatever you could, clinging to some shred of normalcy with pancakes and eggs, anything but that meat.

But when Negan stomped into the kitchen that morning and you put the pancakes on his plate, his face twisted with disgust. His hand shot out, sending the plate crashing to the floor as he barked, “You call this breakfast?” You flinched, heart hammering in your chest.

“There’s nothing left, just the meat,” you managed to whisper, trying to calm him, to avoid the sting of his rage.

But his face darkened, and he hissed, “Then eat the damn meat.” Nodding, you moved to the fridge, pulling it open, but before you could even start, the nausea hit you hard.

You stumbled to the bathroom, stomach heaving, bile rising as you clung to the edge of the sink. It had been days of this—dizzy spells, constant nausea, a weakness that wouldn’t fade.

You asked him, once, to take you to a doctor, but he’d only laughed, brushing off your words as if they were nothing.

But that morning, as you knelt there, Negan’s mocking voice drifted from the kitchen. “You sure got a weak stomach, sweetheart. Or wait,” he paused, as if a dark thought dawned on him.

“you wouldn’t be knocked up, would you?” His words sliced through the air, and in an instant, dread filled your veins.

Negan’s grin spread, a slow, dark realization flickering in his gaze. He tilted his head, studying the growing horror in your expression. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Got something to tell me?”

You tried to dismiss the thought, No, every clients always use condoms or pull out, there's rules, strict rules by Negan that everyone need to follow.

"Alright, tell me which one of ’em didn’t pull out, huh? You let one of ’em break the rules?” His tone shifting from amusement to something far darker, his voice is low, cruel and invasive, as if he could peel back your skin and see into every memory you wanted to erase.

You shook your head, unable to hold back the tremor in your voice. “No one… they all followed the rules..." Then the realization hit you.

No.

No, It couldn’t be.

You couldn’t carry his child.

Negan’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. “Guess that leaves only me, then,” His fingers grazed over your jaw, tilting your face up.

"Goddamn, I knocked you up, didn't I?" He mocked you with his laugh and a big grin on his face.

“Guess we’ll be a real family now, huh, sweetheart?” You shuddered listen to what he said, nausea twisting into a spiraling fear.

The room spun as panic clawed at your chest. A child bound to this, bound to him, a part of him, growing inside you, chaining you to this nightmare forever.

This couldn’t be happening. You can't bring a child into this prison, no. Not with him.

The thought ignited a fire of panic deep within your chest, yet you felt paralyzed, frozen in his grip. Your hands trembled, and a numbness spread through your veins. The world around you blurred, his face, his voice, everything distorting in a haze of disbelief and horror.

***

Tonight’s your last client for a while, he’d said, with a twisted grin that made you feel sick to your core. He wanted you to carry his child, to tie you to him with an unbreakable chain, to make you his forever.

The thought was unbearable, a darkness spreading through you, filling every corner of your mind with a terrible dread.

You kept your face blank, expression as smooth and placid as a lake’s surface while your insides churned. You couldn’t let him see the fear, the desperate calculations racing through your mind.

But every time you imagined the life inside you, growing, becoming a part of this nightmare, the dread swelled, crashing over you like a wave.

That afternoon, Negan took you to the grocery store, his hand firm around your arm as he steered you through the aisles. He had that sharp glint in his eye, the one that warned you not to cross him.

Normally, you did this on your own, gathering what you needed while he watched from his truck outside. But today, he hovered close, his presence a constant reminder of the leash you couldn’t see but felt tightening with every step.

The store was cold, the fluorescent lights harsh against your skin. You moved mechanically, plucking items from shelves, the rhythm of normalcy a bitter contrast to the chaos inside.

Your fingers shook slightly as you reached for a can, and you forced yourself to breathe slowly, in and out, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He was bored, restless, eyes scanning the people around you with thinly veiled irritation. When the line at the checkout stretched out, he sighed impatiently.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, leaning close, his grip firm on your face. “You try any shit, and you know what’ll happen. Got it, sweetheart?”

You nodded, throat tight, and he released you, storming out to wait in the truck.

The line crept forward, a snail’s pace that made your pulse thud in your temples. Each second felt stretched, unreal, the world around you moving in slow motion. You clutched the handle of the shopping cart, mind racing.

People milled around you, chatting, smiling, oblivious to the shadow that lingered just beyond these walls, waiting to consume you whole. You wanted to run, to disappear into the crowd and never look back, but his warning echoed in your ears, a brutal reminder that you were still chained.

When it was your turn at the register, the cashier was kind, offering a smile that made your heart ache with longing for something that felt impossibly far away.

You fumbled through paying, glancing nervously toward the parking lot where you knew he waited, his gaze a weight you could feel even from a distance.

You made your way to the truck, feeling his eyes on you, his smirk as you approached. You tried to keep your voice steady as you loaded the bags in. “They…they didn’t have pregnancy tests. They were out of stock.”

Negan chuckled, a sound that made your skin crawl. “Figures. Bet all the other sluts in this town already cleaned ‘em out.” He smirked, a gleam in his eye that held no warmth.

“Get your ass in. We’ll grab one at the gas station."

You climbed into the truck, feeling trapped, the seat belt tight across your chest like a noose. His words echoed in your mind, each one a nail hammered into the cage around you.

The plan he’d laid out twisted your insides, a sickness coiling in your stomach that was worse than anything you’d ever felt. You couldn’t bring a child into this—a child tied to him, a child trapped just as you were.

The weight of it settled over you, heavier with every mile you drove, until it felt like you could hardly breathe. Your mind raced, grasping for something—anything—to stop this.

You were spiraling into a dark pit of despair, thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a tempest. The closer you got to the gas station, the more your heart pounded against your ribs, desperate for freedom.

As you arrived, Negan leaned back in the truck, his eyes glinting with impatience. “I’ll wait here. You go in, but be fucking quick.” His tone was as sharp as a blade, leaving no room for disobedience.

You nodded, pushing the weight of your dread aside as you stepped out into the sunlight, a harsh reminder of the world beyond this nightmare.

Inside, the fluorescent lights flickered above, cold and clinical, You moved for selecting the pregnancy test from the aisle, fingers brushing over it as an image flickered in your mind—Joel’s face, his soft smile, the warmth of his hand brushing over yours.

You bit back the tears that burned in your eyes, the ache in your chest deepening. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

You always wanted a family of your own, but not like this. Not with him. A child tied to this nightmare would mean a lifetime under Negan’s thumb—a life bound to his sick, twisted idea of family.

You blinked back tears and moved toward the counter, your thoughts in turmoil, when a voice—a familiar voice—pierced the haze.

“Is that you?”

You turned, heart pounding, and there she was—Emma. Your best friend, the one you hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. The sight of her sent a jolt of warmth through your veins, but it was quickly overshadowed by the shadows lurking in your mind.

Her face was lined with surprise and worry, and as your eyes met, memories flooded back—laughter shared in the hallways, secrets whispered under the stars.

She stepped closer, and you felt her arms wrap around you, a lifeline in a turbulent sea. The embrace was both a comfort and a reminder of everything you’d lost.

“Oh my god, it’s really you,” Emma whispered, pulling back to study your face, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. You felt the weight of her worry pressing against you, and you wished you could share the whole truth, but the words tangled in your throat.

“Where have you been? It’s been over a year…” Her voice trembled, and for a moment, you were lost in the familiarity of her presence, a beacon of hope in your dark reality.

You took a shaky breath, trying to piece together your thoughts. “How—how can you be here?”

After a moment, she explained, her voice rushing as if she were afraid time might snatch you away again. “After graduation, Jim and I moved to California. We just got married last month!” The excitement in her voice felt like a distant echo, contrasting sharply with your own turmoil.

But as quickly as the happiness arrived, it faded. “Are you okay? Where’s Joel?” Emma asked, concern etching deeper lines on her forehead.

You felt a sharp pang in your chest at the mention of his name, the very name that felt like both a lifeline and a chain. “I got kidnapped,” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling.

Emma’s expression morphed from surprise to confusion, and then to horror. “What? What are you talking about?” She looked around, panic creeping into her eyes, as if the very ground beneath you was about to give way.

“I can’t explain it to you,” you said, your heart racing. “He’s out there.” You gestured vaguely, your heart sinking as you glanced outside and saw Negan, an ominous figure lingering like a dark cloud over your thoughts.

Emma’s eyes widened as she took in the scene. “Wait, it’s not Joel,” she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Where the fuck is Joel? What is happening?"

"Didn't Joel fucking killed your parents and Jamie and Ben?"

“No! He didn’t kill them. Negan did." You said, "Please Emma, you have to help me,"

“Who’s Negan?” Emma asked, her brow furrowing with confusion and fear.

“He took me from Joel. He framed Joel,” you said urgently, dragging Emma to a quieter corner of the store, heart racing with the urgency of your situation. This was your chance, a lifeline thrown to you in the storm.

“Help me, please, please,” you begged, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I can’t stay with him any longer. I need you to do something.”

Emma’s expression shifted as she processed your words, the gravity of your situation crashing over her like a tidal wave. “Can we call the cops?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“No, we can’t! He’ll kill us!” Panic flared in your chest, a wild beast clawing at the walls of your sanity. “I don't have much time, but you need to tell Tommy, Emma. Call him and say I’m in California. I don’t know where Negan’s house is, but his name is Negan Smith. The man who took me is Negan Smith. Tell him to find his address.”

Emma's eyes widened, the reality dawning on her. “W-we could just run away. My car is out there.”

“No! You don’t understand. He'll hunt us down. He’s dangerous, Emma. We need to be smart about this.” The words poured from you, desperation lacing every syllable.

“I just need to get out of here.” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can’t stay with him another day.”

In that moment, she stepped closer, enveloping you in her arms. The warmth of her embrace was a balm against the icy grip of fear that had settled around your heart.

You could feel her tremble, too—an echo of your own turmoil. It was a shared sorrow, a recognition of the gravity of your plight.

“I promise I’ll get you out,” she whispered fiercely, her breath warm against your ear. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and you felt your own grief swell anew, a flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

The weight of everything—the fear, the pain, the uncertainty—pressed down on you both, and in that fragile moment, you wept together, two souls adrift in a storm.

“I can’t stay with him another day,” you sobbed, the truth cutting through you like a knife. You could feel Emma’s heartache mingling with your own, each beat a reminder of the love and hope you were fighting for, despite the darkness that loomed.

She pulled back, searching your eyes, and then her gaze dropped to the pregnancy test clutched in your trembling hands. “Are you…?” she began, her voice faltering.

“He raped me, Emma,” "Over and over again," you admitted, each word a raw confession, a wound laid bare.

“and he pimped me out. He made me into a prostitute.” The weight of those words crushed you, the reality so unbearable that you felt like you were going to shatter.

Emma’s expression shifted to one of horror. “Is it… is it his child?” she stammered, and you could see the disbelief in her eyes, the way your pain struck her like a physical blow.

“I can’t… I can’t, I can't have this baby,” you whispered, choking on the anguish. You could barely comprehend the gravity of it all, a future painted in shades of dread.

Just then, you caught a glimpse of Negan climbing out of the truck, and fear twisted in your gut like a knife. “Tell Tommy to find me,” you urged Emma one last time.

“And if you find Joel… please tell him I’m waiting for him. Always.”

With that you pulled away, forcing a smile to mask the turmoil swirling within you. You had to play your part. You turned away from Emma, letting the illusion of normalcy settle over you like a shroud.

Emma ducked into the shadows, her presence fading from your periphery, and you approached Negan, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

“What took you so fucking long?” he barked, irritation etched on his face.

You feigned confusion, forcing the words out. “I’m just… confused, Negan. It’s my first time.”

“Then just fucking pick anything! Jesus, woman.” His voice cracked like a whip, sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded, swallowing the knot of fear in your throat, feeling smaller than ever.

As he stepped outside, waiting by the truck, you turned toward the cashier, each step heavy with the weight of what you were about to do.

The store felt surreal, a juxtaposition of mundane normalcy against the tempest brewing in your heart. Each item on the shelves seemed to mock your despair, the fluorescent lights flickering like distant stars in a darkened sky, reminding you of everything you had lost.

Approaching the counter, the world around you began to blur, thoughts racing through your mind like a whirlwind. What if this was it? What if you didn’t escape?

The reality of your situation sank in, pressing down on you like a lead weight, suffocating in its intensity. You were here, a ghost of your former self, trapped in a nightmare of someone else’s making, and the walls felt like they were closing in.

As you laid down the items—each one a reminder of a life you once knew—you thought of Joel.

His warmth, his laughter, the way he made you feel safe against the chill of the world. Those memories glimmered like fragile stars in the darkness, a bittersweet ache that filled your chest.

You wondered if he was fighting for you, if he even knew what had become of you.

You took a breath, trying to steady the whirlwind inside. As the cashier rang up your items, your mind spiraled back to the pregnancy test, the weight of it pressing down on your conscience.

In your faith, it was a sin to kill a baby, a sin that echoed through your upbringing like a haunting hymn. The Bible spoke of life being a sacred gift, a trust from God.

But this baby is not a gift.

The thought of bringing a child into this world—a world filled with darkness and pain, where they could inherit a life as broken as your own—sent waves of panic crashing through you.

You steeled yourself, feeling the tremor of fear and guilt intertwining within you. “Do you have anything?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

“I want to get rid of it,” you said, your hand instinctively brushing against your abdomen as if to shield the burgeoning life from the shadows lurking in your reality.

The cashier’s eyes widened, shock painting her features. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “I… I want to get rid of it.” You gestured to your belly, feeling the weight of your confession settle in the air between you.

The cashier hesitated, her expression flickering between concern and caution. “You sure about it?” she asked, her voice softening, an unspoken understanding passing between you.

“Yes,” you whispered, desperation threading through your tone. “Please, just anything.”

She studied you for a moment, weighing the gravity of your request. “Are you really sure about it? It’s none of my business, but you should consider going to a hospital for this.”

“No, I can’t. I—I just can’t,” you managed, urgency coursing through your veins. “Just give it to me.”

“Alright, but it ain’t my fault if anything happens,” she replied, her voice laced with a mixture of sympathy and resignation. You watched as she reached beneath the counter, pulling out a small, unassuming package that felt like both a lifeline and a curse.

As she handed it to you, time seemed to stand still, the world around you fading into a blur. This was it—a moment carved in time, one that would alter your path forever. You grasped the package tightly, your fingers trembling as you felt the weight of your decision press against your chest.

You turned to leave, but just before stepping out, you glanced back at Emma. Her eyes were glistening with tears, her face a mixture of fear and heartbreak. The sight of her anguish sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over you, a reminder of the innocence that had been stolen from both of you.

You wanted to reach out, to assure her that you were going to be okay, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you silently nod and gave her one last smile, you don't know if you're gonna see her ever again.

As you stepped out of the store, the fluorescent lights flickered behind you, casting long shadows on the pavement that stretched out before you. The outside world felt colder, more foreboding, as if it sensed the turmoil brewing within your heart.

Each heartbeat echoed the weight of your choice, the urgency of your situation clawing at your mind. You were standing at the precipice of an uncertain future, the horizon obscured by the storm clouds of despair and fear that loomed above you.

But amidst the chaos, a flicker of resolve ignited deep within. You thought of Joel, his strength, his unwavering presence that made you feel safe even when the world was crumbling around you. In your darkest moments, his memory became a guiding light, urging you to fight for the life you once had.

You needed to find your way back to him, to reclaim your story from the shadows that threatened to consume you. The road ahead was murky, each step a treacherous dance with danger, but you steeled yourself for the fight. The thought of Joel ignited a fire in your belly, a relentless determination to survive.

With each breath, you whispered a silent prayer into the darkening sky, clutching the small package against your heart as you resolved to face whatever lay ahead.

You would find a way to escape this nightmare, to reclaim your future, and to make sure that Negan would never have power over you again.

The night felt heavy with anticipation, the air thick with a tension that twisted in your gut. You stood in front of the hotel mirror, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare on your reflection.

Each detail felt foreign—your skin, once vibrant, now dulled and pale; your body, a ghost of its former self, now a canvas marked by the weight of what you had endured.

Emma’s words echoed in your mind: “It’s been a year since I last saw you.” It means now it's been a year and a half. A lifetime spent away from Joel, the man whose laughter had once wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

You missed him so fiercely it was like a physical ache, a void in your chest that no amount of prayer seemed to fill. You whispered your pleas to God, each word hanging in the air like a desperate song.

But as the days blurred into nights, doubt began to creep in, gnawing at your faith like a hungry wolf. Was there even a God to hear you?

You glanced down at your stomach, where a life was growing inside you, innocent and unaware of the darkness surrounding it.

You remembered the test you took earlier with Negan, the little plus sign a cruel twist of fate.

Pregnant with his child.

The thought twisted in your gut, an iron weight pressing down, reminding you of everything you had been taught.

Your father’s sermons flooded your mind, words from the Good Book spilling into your consciousness like water from a broken dam. “Children are a gift from God,” he had preached, his voice booming with conviction.

But this child felt like a curse, a cruel reminder of the monster that had taken you from the light and plunged you into shadow.

If it was a boy, what hope did he have of escaping his father’s blood? If it was a girl, you couldn’t bear the thought of her living in a world ruled by a monster like Negan. You don't want them to live your life, no.

No, you couldn’t bring this life into a world so steeped in pain and darkness. You would save them, save them from their father’s sins, from your own sins.

In the solitude of the bathroom, you grasped the small package tightly, your heart racing as you decided to take four pills, hoping to end what had begun.

Your hands trembled as you swallowed them, each one feeling like a stone lodged in your throat, a final act of defiance against the life growing within you.

Almost immediately, pain erupted in your abdomen, sharp and relentless, as if the very fabric of your being was unraveling. You doubled over, gasping for breath, your body turning weak and unresponsive.

The world around you blurred, the edges softening into darkness.

Then, a sudden pressure built within you, an overwhelming urge that felt like it was ripping you apart from the inside. You stumbled toward the toilet, only to be met with the horrifying sight of blood—thick, dark clots spilling out between your leg. Dizziness swept over you, and your knees buckled beneath you.

A loud knock echoed from the door, a frantic urgency that barely registered in your foggy mind. You didn’t respond; you couldn’t. The world spun wildly, the darkness closing in as you finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

In those final moments, you caught a glimpse of a figure—a man, not Negan, shrouded in shadows—his face indistinct. A fleeting sense of fear gripped you before everything faded to black.

***

You jolted awake in a hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic assaulting your senses. Confusion clouded your mind, disorientation settling in like a thick fog. 

What had happened? The memories of the hotel room came rushing back, a torrent of pain and loss flooding your thoughts.

Then, you saw him—Negan. His face twisted in fury, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “What the fuck did you do?” he barked, the words sharp and menacing, cutting through the haze of your consciousness.

You were no longer in the hotel. Your heart raced, each beat a reminder of the choices you had made, the life you had tried to save, and the monster that now loomed before you.

"Wha--what happened?" you managed to stammer, confusion clouding your mind.

“Robert,” he spat, the name dripping with venom. “The man supposed to be satisfied by you found you passed out, blood coming from your fucking vagina.” His words struck you like a physical blow, and the reality of your situation settled over you like a shroud. 

“I lost the fucking money because of you!”

Your breath hitched in your throat as Negan’s hands closed around your neck, squeezing tightly. Panic surged through you, and your vision blurred as you gasped for air. 

"And you. You fucking killed it, you killed my child." he hissed, his face inches from yours, anger radiating off him like heat from a fire.

“I can’t… breathe…” you choked out, the world around you spiraling into darkness.

The realization crashed over you like a wave, and the weight of his accusation sank into your bones. He knew. 

You successfully killed it.

Desperation clawed at your throat as you felt the pressure tighten. “Please… let go…” you begged, tears welling in your eyes.

"I should have fucking killed you for it. I gave you everything. I gave you a house, jewelry, dresses—everything. And you... You can’t even say thank you to me." His voice was a storm, his breath hot against your skin, suffocating you with anger and betrayal.

“This is how you repay me? Murdered my child? You ungrateful bitch.” His grip was like a vice, unyielding and cruel, squeezing the breath from your lungs. Your hands flailed, grasping at his wrist in a desperate attempt to free yourself, but it was futile.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pressure released. A sound echoed in the room—the quick, heavy footsteps of someone entering. The doctor. She rushed in, her expression a mixture of concern and urgency, breaking the spell of Negan’s rage.

Before she could assess the situation, Negan released you, feigning innocence as if nothing had happened. The mask he wore was chilling in its calmness, a predator in a sheep’s clothing.

“Good, you’re awake,” the doctor said, her voice laced with concern. “I’m really sorry to say, but you lost the baby.”

Each word was a heavy stone, dropping into the depths of your soul, sending ripples of anguish through you. You had made a choice, a choice steeped in desperation and fear.

You had committed a sin that now hung over you like a dark cloud, one that would shadow you for the rest of your life. The weight of your actions settled on your chest, squeezing the air from your lungs as effectively as Negan’s hands had.

You had killed a life that had barely begun, snuffing out a flame before it could ever flicker. The echoes of your father’s sermons filled your mind—his rigid beliefs, the scriptures twisted into weapons against anyone who strayed from the path.

You remembered the fervor in his voice as he spoke about children being blessings, gifts from God. But how could you bring a child into this world, into the clutches of a monster?

“It was three months old,” the doctor continued, her tone gentle yet firm. “You took too many pills. You had a miscarriage. We’re already getting everything out from you.”

With each sentence, you felt the ground shift beneath you, the world tilting as the weight of what you had done bore down on your heart.

"Now, your condition is not stable, we recommend you stay here or do you prefer to go home?"

Before you could respond, Negan’s voice cut through the room, harsh and authoritative. “No. We can take care of ourselves. We just need to go home.” His words dripped with a possessiveness that made your skin crawl.

The doctor nodded, taken aback by his decisiveness, and you could see the thin veneer of professionalism slipping away as concern flickered across her face.

As she prepared your discharge, a whirlwind of fear enveloped you. The idea of returning to that dark house, of being alone with Negan, sent icy tendrils creeping up your spine. You felt like a bird caught in a storm, wings clipped and unable to escape the chaos.

What would he do to you? The thought gnawed at your insides, a relentless whisper that echoed through your mind. You had already seen the monster within him, and now that you had taken away his child, you feared what lay ahead.

Would he unleash his fury upon you? Would he kill you?

The hospital room felt like a fragile bubble, a temporary refuge from the darkness that awaited. As the doctor handed you a few papers, explaining what to expect, you could hardly focus.

Your mind was a flurry of thoughts—about the life that had been extinguished, about the man who now loomed over you, and about the impending return to hell.

Every moment spent in that sterile room felt like an eternity, yet all too soon, the time came to leave. Negan’s presence loomed beside you, his anger barely contained, a smoldering ember threatening to ignite.

As you walked through the hospital doors, the world outside felt both foreign and suffocating. You stepped into the night, it only served to highlight the darkness within you.

With every step toward the truck, your heart raced, a drumbeat of dread marking the rhythm of your impending fate. You asked God this time.

***

The journey to his house was a blur, each mile a countdown to the inevitable confrontation. The walls of the truck felt like they were closing in, pressing down on you with an unbearable weight, and you fought against the rising tide of panic swelling within your chest.

Each bump in the road sent jolts of fear coursing through you, reminding you of the storm that awaited you in the shadows of Negan's world.

As the truck lurched to a stop in the driveway, dread coiled tightly around your heart. You were still weak, your body aching from the remnants of your earlier ordeal, but that didn’t matter to Negan. The moment the door swung open, he was upon you, his rage igniting like wildfire.

Without warning, he punched your stomach, the pain radiating through you like a shockwave. You gasped, doubling over as the world blurred around you.

He didn’t wait for you to recover, dragging you by your hair as your body felt the ground, from the truck with a brutal strength that made you feel like a rag doll.

“Get fucking inside!” he snarled, his voice a low growl, devoid of any compassion. The darkness of the basement loomed ahead, an abyss waiting to swallow you whole, and with each step, the walls seemed to close in tighter, the air heavy with unspoken threats.

Once inside, he unleashed the storm that had been brewing during the drive. “You killed my child!” he roared, his fury reverberating off the walls like thunder.

Each word was a strike, sharp and relentless, cutting through the fragile remnants of your spirit. “I SHOULD FUCKING KILL YOU FOR IT! YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH!”

His fists rained down on you, each punch a testament to his rage, and the pain was a visceral reminder of your shattered choices. You cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to shield yourself from his wrath.

You felt small, powerless, as he pulled your hair, yanking you back into his orbit of violence.

“Please, Negan… stop!” you begged, but your words fell on deaf ears. Your pleas were drowned out by his anger, a tempest that raged against the fragile vestiges of your hope.

Then, in a terrifying twist, he dragged you toward the toilet in the basement. You knew what was coming, the reality of it sending a shiver down your spine.

As he held you down, your heart raced, fear curling around you like a snake. He plunged your head into the cold, unforgiving water of the toilet, and instinctively, you fought against him.

You screamed, the sound echoing in the confined space, desperate for someone—anyone—to hear you. Your voice was a fragile thread, straining against the suffocating darkness that surrounded you.

The water rushed into your ears, muffling the world, and in that moment, you felt like a drowning sailor, flailing against the tide, praying for the hand of rescue to pull you from the depths.

Each gasp was a desperate plea, each breath a struggle against the overwhelming force threatening to swallow you whole.

Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to survive, but in that suffocating darkness, you felt your resolve weaken. You were trapped in a nightmare of your own making, the very monster you had tried to escape now looming over you, and all you could do was pray—pray for an end to the torment, pray for mercy, pray for the light to break through the crushing darkness.

He pulled your hair, yanking you up and forcing you onto your back, the rough floor digging into your skin. The pain ignited your senses, but he didn’t stop there.

His boots connected with your body in brutal kicks, each impact sending shockwaves of agony radiating through you. “I keep you alive! I put a roof over your fucking head! And this is how you repay me?” he spat, venom lacing his words.

“I should have fucking killed you from the beginning!” With every kick, you felt your spirit crack, your body weak and unable to retaliate.

You crawled backward, instinctively trying to escape, but there was nowhere to go. You were a fragile leaf in a storm, tossed about and battered, your only response a quiet, desperate, “Please… stop….”

He advanced, relentless, an embodiment of fury, each blow a reminder of your helplessness. “Now I can’t fucking kill you,” he growled, eyes blazing with a twisted sense of satisfaction, “What a fucking waste!"

As he beat you, the world faded into a haze of pain and fear. You felt your thoughts slipping away, replaced by a singular mantra—God, please make it stop. 

You realized you hadn’t prayed in so long, hadn’t found solace in faith, and yet now you found yourself begging for a reprieve from this torment. “Why won’t you help me?” the question echoed in your mind, a haunting refrain amidst the chaos.

Negan grabbed you by the hair again, lifting your head as if to force you to confront the monster before you. “What should I do to you, hm?” His voice dripped with malice, and you could see the gears turning in his mind. “You killed my child. You need to suffer.”

You were too tired, too hurt to even look at him, your body pleading for relief, but his grip was unyielding. "You would fucking regret this," he hissed, before he slammed your head against the wall, over and over.

Each impact sent a jolt of pain coursing through you, and you felt your vision blur, blood trickling down your face. The metallic taste of it mingled with the tears streaming down your cheeks, a bitter reminder of your despair.

“Stay fucking here!” he barked, his final words a command that felt like a death sentence. He kicked you one last time, a parting gift of pain, before he stormed out of the basement, leaving you alone in the darkness.

You cried out, the sound a desperate, broken thing, a haunting wail that echoed through the empty space. You were so tired, so desperately exhausted.

You felt like a wilted flower, struggling to survive in a garden of thorns, every breath a battle against the encroaching shadows.

With each sob, you crawled to the corner of the basement, seeking comfort in the darkness. You wrapped your arms around your knees, rocking back and forth, feeling the warmth of your blood seep into the cool concrete beneath you.

You didn't know what Negan would do next, but the fear of the unknown was almost worse than the pain you had already endured.

[mystverse]

SMAU REC LIST² - SKZ, NCT, ENHA

THE ART OF LOVE : : @lxvemaze

PAIRING. bangchan x shy!artist!reader

✿SYNOPSIS. when chris texted an artist he found on instagram with the hopes of them designing an album cover for him, he never expected to fall head over heels in love with them.

NERF THIS! : : @lovelyyjun

progamer!haechan x streamer!femreader

in which overwatch streamer yn ln is on a winning streak one night, and sorta kinda ends up killing professional overwatch player lee haechan on stream…multiple times. she didn't even know who he was, let alone that he was super hot?! c'mon, she wouldn't have smoked him THAT hard if she knew!

Or

yn starts overwatch beef with haechan accidentally. romance ensues.

HOW NOT TO BE A VIRGIN 101 : : @diaphamin

summary : college is about gaining further education, to some, but to y/n it means she is finally free to explore the side of life she was never able to. parties, relationships, and sex. she was tired of being dull, tired of being the only one around her who hasn’t experienced anything romantic. she was ready to be the exact opposite of what she wasn’t. the only problem being… she doesn’t know how. that’s when she calls upon haechan, someone notoriously known for having a bit too much fun… and asks him for guidance.

WHERE YOU ARE : : @luvmahae

pairing: fratboy!haechan x fem!reader

summary: what the absolute fuck is up baby! fall semester marks the peak of greek life at ncu. the campus quad is filled with tents representing various fraternities and sororities with their letters proudly presented in front of each booth, all eager to recruit new members. as students return to campus, they are met with a flood of fliers and invitations to parties, mixers, and rush events. while you were walking through the crowd of eager freshmen to join these organizations, you bumped into someone very unexpected...

what do you do when you bump into the guy you hooked up with after a music festival during summer break? instead of the royal blue basketball jersey you first met him in, it was replaced by a varsity jacket with the letters reading "ΝΧΘ".

"haechan?"

BED CHEM : : @wonbin-truther

college student yn x college student jaemin

summery! when jaemin saw the big red "16%" on his first organic chemistry test, he knew he needed a tutor, fast. enter l/n y/n, a chemical engineering student who is determined to raise his grade. but as study sessions turn into late-night library marathons, jaemin is starting to realize he’s got more than just organic chemistry to worry about.

GOOD GRACES : : @106alibi

pairing: boxer!jeno x magazine-editor!reader

synopsis: y/n knows she's petty. so when she found out her (secret) celebrity boyfriend of a year had been cheating on her, through a news article to make things worse, she decided to cook up an action plan to get back at him, and what better way to take revenge than to get together with his all-time favourite athlete?

LEFT ON SEEN : : @jsbluu

pairing: dance major!jisung x environmental scientist fem!reader

you, a first year college student at ncit university, "stumble" upon the twitter account of your campus crush, park jisung. you've had a crush on him since your junior year of high school, but he always seemed to have a flock of girls chasing after him.

out of a boost of confidence (and maybe a little too much to drink), you decide to send him a dm. what's the worst that could happen? he has thousands of followers, it's not like he's ever gonna see it.. right?

wrong! will jisung reply to you and fall in love? or will you just become another girl lost in his dms. read to find out!

SCUM'S WISH 𓆩♡𓆪 : : @jungaji

pairing: park jisung x fem!reader

synopsis: struggling with unrequited feelings, you and park jisung agree to a fake relationship to ease your loneliness, filling the gaps left by others. with promises not to fall for each other and to part ways if your affections are reciprocated elsewhere, you jump into this arrangement. can you both stick to the rules, or will the lines between pretense and reality blur?

or, in which you and park jisung turn to each other for comfort in an attempt to soothe your unrequited loves.

FUNERAL PYRE : : @peacheeeliz

PARING ⤏ barista!heeseung x metalhead!fem reader

SYNOPSIS ⤏ heeseung is completely starstruck by the motorcyclist that frequently visits the coffee shop he works at. y/n has no interest in the peppy barista at the cafe she visits after classes. but that doesn't stop him from wanting to get to know her more.

A VIRGIN WHO CAN'T READ : : @luvyeni

starring … park sunghoon ‧ female reader

ㅤ୨ৎ no one in your friend group couldn't understand why you and sunghoon stopped being friends after freshman year of college; they all chalked it up as for reasons only you and he knew about , you and sunghoon couldnt get along, and when he threatened to tell your brother something your deepest darkest secret you called him a virgin who couldn't read to your 24k fans and the name spread throughout the campus…

or in which ‧ a year later sunghoon still holds your secret over your head , claiming “future blackmailing” but that's just easier to explain why he's your number one viewer or why he even hated you in the first place …

: MYST - im just using these lists as my library, don't mind me

[atiny-for-life]

Xikers Full Storyline Explained - Part 5

Masterlist

위치 (WITCH)

Regarding the title, the Korean means "Location" but sounds like "Witch", making it some clever wordplay they actively utilize throughout the song.

If you played Maze of Choice, the YouTube multiple choice game they released as part of the album promotions (and which I covered here), you will already have an idea of what this MV is about

We open on a ticket booth standing amidst a narrow path colored similarly to the album cover - orange and black

The sign above the booth asks "WHERE IS YOUR LOCATION?", indicating once you're in, you won't know where to go

Junmin then appears, walking into the empty corridor, only for black smoke-like creatures to rush by and make a desk appear right in front of him (you can hear their screech just before his own voice comes in in the song's opening)

Going by his behavior, it's clear he has no idea where he is or any recollection of donning the clothes he's now wearing, which means their memories were wiped before they came here, presumably by TRICKY

With no other option but to play along, Junmin picks up the folded card on the table ahead and finds the words "Do you want to make a bet with me?" in a golden cursive font

Except, there is no way for him to choose: the moment he finishes reading, he's dragged away by an unseen force

My best guess here is this takes place at the same time as Maze of Choice and is showing us the recruitment process they all went through at the hands of TRICKY before they were given their powers in Rockstar

The lyrics seem to support this by telling us "You're already in TRICKY HOUSE"

We see them all in their formal uniforms after this, hair either nicely slicked back or free of product, prim and proper students as Namoo (and presumably the government and society) desires in this corporate-run world where fulfilling your predestined role is all you get to have in life

We next get Yechan's verse where they first use the wordplay of "I know your location (위치) but I'm not a WITCH"

While the others are running through parts of the maze, he's being actively attacked by the black cloud-like creatures who restrain his arms, presumably after he failed to choose the right direction

At the end of his verse, we get the first sign of TRICKY and the dokkaebi's blue fire as he wears his schoolbag and reaches for a falling sheet of paper which ignites upon his touch, presumably indicating he's picked the right one

We next see Jinsik and Hyunwoo in an office meeting room in which all the employees wear white masks

Just like in Maze of Choice and the Bittersweet Preview, we see them navigating this world together, which leads me to assume they were the only ones who already knew each other prior to getting chosen by TRICKY

Going by the lyrics, we can tell they're all going a little bonkers in this maze - constant dead ends, looping back to the start, everyone they come across lies to them, and they keep falling for trick after trick

Huge shout out to the choreography at this point (BBTrippin never disappoints) - it truly is a theatrical performance visualizing the lyrics and if you haven't watched a full live stage yet, you absolutely should - they're crushing it

Following Junmin's lines, we move on to Sumin's rap verse during which one of the dokkaebi's blue flames guides him to a locker through which he enters a new section of the maze

Note here how we transition with the blue flame and now see Sumin in red-white-and-black clothing as opposed to his school uniform (we'll come back to that in a second)

There are more masked workers in this section, all wandering a warehouse full of garment bags filled with clothes kept in shades of red, white, and black

While he's there, it suddenly gets darker and a spotlight finds him before white crumpled up paper falls from the ceiling which reminds me of the end of Tricky House when all the paper airplanes, dust and ghost-like objects were flying around

Minjae, already changed out of his uniform as well, is up next and also finds the garment warehouse where he gets surrounded by the masked employees who seem to capture him and throw him to the ground

Upon hitting the floor, he pounds his fist against it which seems to make the employees disappear, leaving him by himself

And this is when the lyrics first indicate he's actually enjoying this... he thinks it's a beautiful night

The music video has taken a turn: we've skipped to the present and, as we've seen in We Don't Stop, in the present, Xikers have already gotten used to their powers and befriended TRICKY, willingly choosing to live in its world

And that world includes the maze they started out in so, as they switch from their school uniforms to black-white-and-red attire, we can see them becoming a part of TRICKY's world with all the powers which come with it

After escaping, they learned the maze's layout, they know where to go, where to find everyone, how to trick and mess with them - we're now their victims

We see Junmin in his new outfit, his fist still on the ground, presumably after also making the masked people disappear, the floor now littered with clothing items in greens and blues

And we also see Jinsik, sitting in the clouds above the maze (on what we later get to see is a giant pair of scissors with the name 'xikers' engraved on it), free to look down and watch the lost people wander the maze now that he's also all dressed up in TRICKY's colors

They highlight this contrast between then and now in the next shot as well: we see Yujun wander the hallway full of doors in his uniform before we zoom out to Hyunwoo in the present looking at the maze's model, all cool, calm, and collected

The way to escape seems to be to not just follow the blue spirit fire, but to actively entrap one of the orbs, which we get to see Minjae do near the end of the video after our rap-trio's shared verse

One more shoutout the choreography at this point because, after this, they make it seem like Hunter has freakishly long arms through simple visual blocking and strategic arm placement - it's such a neat little trick

We close out with a group performance to the chant of "We already know your location" contrasting the opening question on the ticket booth and further playing with the song title

The final shot is all nine shushing us, index fingers to their lips, as we see their acquired dokkaebi spirit orbs - 10 in total because Junghoon is here in spirit

[valos-venus-doom]

FOREBODING SENSE OF IMPENDING HAPPINESS [a VV one-shot]

A Blind Date for Ville Valo & OC

Thank you to @sinnysioux for the request.

(I actually love this so I may use this as a jumping off point for a fic in the future. 👀 Maybe we do it as a Choose Your Own Adventure thing? Where I poll readers for plot points? Thoughts?)

Ville stood outside a bar in Helsinki smoking a cigarette, kicking himself for ever agreeing to go on a blind date. At the time, he was going through a rough dry spell and when a friend of his mentioned Ville had a lot in common with a single female friend of theirs, Ville agreed without a second thought. But having had a week to sit and think about it, he was dreading it. He had no clue what to expect, but he was too much of a gentleman to stand someone up. So he was going to follow through and ghost if she turned out to be an obnoxious groupie or hairy bridge troll.

All his friend told him was his friend, Ava, had long brown hair with pink side bangs. So he stood and waited for what he felt was forever, until sure enough, a petite girl matching the description rounded the corner.

Ville felt instant relief when he realized she was actually very beautiful, but the apprehension that she’d be an obnoxious groupie still lingered. He dashed his cigarette and cleared his throat as she approached;

“Hi, excuse me, um, are you Ava?” he asked, cautiously.

The woman stopped walking and looked at him with the warmest brown eyes he’d ever seen. She had delicate features, wearing a deep, dark green dress polka-dotted with little black bats. She smiled and Ville felt his heart flutter, “Yeah, I guess you’re Ville?” she replied.

Ville couldn’t help but mirror her smile. “I am.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Ava opened her arms for a hug, which Ville, surprising himself, happily reciprocated.

“Pleasure meeting you as well. Um, do you want to sit at the bar, or..?” Ville began.

Ava shrugged happily, “Sure, that works. Um, I’m not much of a drinker but I’d love a coffee.”

“Oh, well that’s quite alright. I’m not a drinker either. Erm… would you rather go to a proper coffee shop? It might be quieter, better for conversation.”

“Absolutely. I think I just passed a Starbucks, is that okay?”

“Brilliant.” Ville replied, following her lead.

All of the dread Ville initially felt had long faded away, and his heart was light and fluttery. He reminded himself to thank his friend, he was grateful she was in fact not a hairy bridge troll.

The pair found a quiet booth in a more secluded area of the Starbucks and sat with their coffees. Ville had ordered a black coffee, Ava a caramel macchiato.

“What do you do for work, Ava?” he asked her as he nursed the too-hot coffee in front of him.

“I’m a hairstylist.” she responded, “I already know what you do. But uh, how’s that going for you?”

Ville chuckled, “Yeah, I figured you knew. Um, it’s going well. I guess.” he shrugged.

“Oh?” his pessimism piqued her interest, a mood she hadn’t expected.

“Yeah our drummer’s wrists are fucked so we’re waiting to find out what the prognosis is. It’s holding a lot up, so I’m just writing here and there, hoping there’ll be a new album to put them on someday.”

Ava’s brows furrowed compassionately, “Ah, I see. Well hopefully the prognosis is positive. Aside from music, what do you do for fun?”

“I read, a lot. Mostly in the bath. What about you?”

“The same, oddly enough. I mean, not the bath part, but I read. I have a book buying problem. There’s a stack of new books I’ve never touched on the side of the bed.”

“Ah, I understand your plight. I’ve a habit of buying books everywhere I go. Whether or not they get read–”

“Is a different story.” she finished his sentence. “Haha. Punny.” she joked.

Ville was cheerfully surprised at her quick wit. “Exactly.” he laughed.

The pair kept talking and laughing for another hour or so before Ava realized the Starbucks employees were beginning to place chairs on table tops, indicating they’d be closing up.

“I think we’re running out of time here.” Ava said to Ville, gesturing with her head towards the baristas scurrying about.

Ville was far from ready to say goodnight, he was fascinated by everything she had to say. His friend was right; he and Ava had a *lot* in common. It was refreshing to be able to hold a conversation with a woman and have there be no lulls in the conversation at all. It was like speaking with an old friend.

“So, um, do you need to be getting back home or…” Ville began to question.

Ava shook her head, “Uh, nope. I’m still free tonight.”

“Do you want to grab a bite? I think the bar we were previously has some good options.” he suggested.

“Absolutely.” Ava replied happily.

As the pair exited the coffee shop, Ville took a chance, and he snaked his fingers between hers as they walked. To his elation, she held his hand back. He was reading the vibe correctly, thankfully.

Unfortunately, when they returned to the bar where they had met initially, they found it absolutely packed. Not exactly conducive to pleasant conversation, they’d have to shout to hear over the crowd.

“Well, uh, should we call it a night?” Ava asked, frowning slightly.

Ville bit the inside of his lip, hoping his next suggestion wouldn’t turn her off, “Pardon me if this is inappropriate, but would you maybe want to pick up a pizza and head back to my place? Just to talk?” Ava looked surprised and Ville quickly recovered himself, “Uh, not for anything nefarious. Just conversation, honest.”

Ava blushed and giggled, “I knew you didn’t mean anything by the suggestion. Yes, I’d love to. Again, not really a bar gal.” she shrugged.

A few hours later, Ava and Ville sat enjoying some music on Ville’s couch. They were sipping on tea Ville had made them and sitting particularly close.

“So that’s why that relationship fell apart…” Ville trailed off of the story he’d been telling about an ex.

“I’m afraid I don’t have quite that many stories of exes,” Ava admitted, “I just got out of a five year relationship at the beginning of the year.”

“Oh?” Ville coaxed.

“Yep. Its always fun finding out your best friend is sleeping with your boyfriend. Two relationships down the drain in one fell swoop.” she nodded as she stared into her teacup.

Ville mentally cringed, “Oh damn, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear that.” his hand reached out for hers, her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand, causing more butterflies in Ville’s stomach.

Ava smiled, “Well, you know, at least I was able to move onto better.”

“Yeah, same here.” Ville whispered. Their faces ever so slightly moving towards each other, a game of chicken almost. Ville inhaled deeply through his nose as though he was about to dive underwater. “Forgive me.” Ville blurted out as he sat his cup down before suddenly connecting his lips with hers.

Ava kissed back, blindly setting down her own cup, her now free hand reaching for the side of his face delicately. Ville pressed his tongue forward, Ava accepted.

Ville allowed his lips to linger before pulling back, “Sorry, I just–”

“Needed to know if it felt right?” Ava finished his sentence for him. “Well?” she pressed.

Ville nodded, “And you?”

Ava didn’t answer, she gently pulled him close by the collar of his shirt and kissed him again. Ville placed his hand on her waist and felt a shiver go up his spine while thanking his lucky stars – and his friend – for this amazing first date.

[humbuginmybones]

Second chapter of 𝓐 𝓓𝓲𝓹 𝓘𝓷 𝓜𝔂 𝓓𝓪𝔂𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓼...!

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮: "𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓞𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓻..."

January 2013

Surprisingly, Sheffield wasn't that rainy tonight. One day of a break, which was great. Tonight, the local pub would be packed, and it would be a little party - The owner's birthday or summat. Not that it was entirely a huge deal... It would just be a nice social event, offering free drinks... Pizza and cookies. Great way to spend a night like this.

There were many pros and cons to being single. For one, it gave you the chance to focus on yourself, which was so important - Being a young adult was far from easy, but choosing to focus on yourself, and make solid choices and friendships. But hey, maybe you could dip into the dating pool again?

Shrugging, you paused the music playing on your phone, the album Born To Die by Lana Del Rey. You entered the bar, lights flashing and the noises loud. The air smelt like fried food and ale. The door opened again behind you, and you quickly cleared out of the way for someone else to come in. You took a deep breath, careful to not get overwhelmed. You sat down at a booth, and opened Tumblr as you waited for the lines for free food and drinks to clear up a bit.

Across the bar, a group of four men we're just trying to enjoy a night in their home city, and wanting to take a deep breath, take a night off. Be normal, almost, for a second.

The four men were in a band:

Arctic Monkeys.

Alex Turner was just trying to enjoy a night in his home city, Sheffield. After spending nights awake trying to write new music, and not think about his heartbreak, not think about... Much of anything.

He slammed down a shot, and laughed at a stupid dirty joke his best friend, Matt Helders, the drummer of the band made.

The bar was far from ornate, but it was home-y, which is exactly what the band needed. They sat at a booth in a clandestine corner. Jamie Cook, guitarist for the band had ordered a glass of Scotch, and Nick O'Malley, the bassist, was slowly sipping away at a Guinness. Matt was drinking an IPA, and Alex was slamming down shots of vodka.

"What shot was that, mate?" Nick inquired.

"Doesn't matter." Alex muttered.

Alex's eyes couldn't help but flicker around the room - The walls stained with sweat, the lights on the floors, the girls having a good time, the patrons, generally. Alex couldn't help but people-watch. The blushing, the shrugs, the couples, the snapping pictures, the romance in the air...

Finally, the lines had calmed down, and you trapped your free drink, and scooped up some pizza and a cookie or two. Putting aviator sunglasses on top of your head, and soon adjusting your lipstick... Lipstick that looked like a cigarette, how sly. You threw away your empty plate and adjusted your leather jacket collar, the black piece one of your favorites from your closet. A person you vaguely knew came up to you, smiling, and making surface-level jokes, which you feigned laughter at.

After another shot, Alex started listening closer to the music playing in the bar and tuning out his friends. Lots of loud music that some couples were dancing too - He supposed if it was a party, they'd want to play anthems for such an event, cultural mainstays for fast times. But no slow songs to approach anyone. Not that he cared. Romance had been rough ever since the last album he wrote, glimmers of hope turning to dust. Meaningless hookups or people coming after him for his fame. His friends had reached out, but... In a lot of ways, he found getting high and drunk easier. He thought he had found the love of his life... And he didn't want to think about that. And besides, smoking cigarettes and drinking pricey alcohol was good for his image.

Your eyes were glazing over. The nice thing about Sheffield was that most people were quite sweet. And you didn't mind. Whilst you longed for deep connection, it wasn't like the person you were talking to was an awful piece of shit. They complimented your unique style, and the makeup that you clearly put effort into. They made some jokes, but it was difficult for you to register such things - Social cues weren't your strongest suit. You would laugh at imaginary jokes, and thank God the other person - Some 20-something white lady that you already forgot the name of - was a few drinks deep. Or else you'd be more self-conscious.

And that's not what parties are for.

Alex took out a cigarette and lit it, his friends following suit. His eyes flicked over, until his eyes caught something in their visage.

You.

Does one believe in fate? Alex couldn't help but ask himself. The girl that he once saw a glimmer of in a crowd of a show, so beautiful that he wrote not one, but two songs about, here, in this bar. Right when he needed her. He was trying to get drunk and high, yet this young woman swept in.

He didn't even know your name, but he was so deeply entranced and felt a deep internal connection to you.

As your eyes continued to glaze over as the nice lady introduced you to some of her friends, which were a nice group to talk to for tonight, and '22' by Taylor Swift came in the speakers. Yeah - The bar was loud, but you'd recognize that beat anywhere. Excusing yourself, you walked over to a dirty dancefloor that other couples were dancing on. You started dancing on your own, even singing. And it didn't matter if they judged you - This town would be a different town tomorrow, and no one would care.

"You look like bad news, I gotta have you, I gotta have you!"

You boldly sang along, and after spinning around, your eyes met with someone.

Alex Turner.

"You don't know about me, but I'll bet you want to!"

Alex couldn't help but look you in the eyes - It was like your eyes were inviting him to come over and talk. Or was he projecting? He couldn't help but take in your gorgeous form... Your radiant smile, the leather jacket with the collar popped like an antenna, and the sunglasses atop your head... You were, in fact - That same girl. A piece of his heart had been stolen by you, and he wanted you to take more...

You saw your idol, and locked eyes with him! You kept contemplating if you would go up to him, going back and forth in your mind on if you should go up and talk to him. He then turned his head and sat back down at his booth with his bandmates. Wow, the whole band was here!

But... You were too nice a person. You didn't want to disturb this man... Didn't want to approach someone who was probably just trying to have a chill night, probably not needing some half-drunk coming up and begging for an autograph. Glancing at the clock, you excited the bar into the cold bite of water and wind that hit your face.

Alex turned back to the dancefloor, and saw your were already gone... His heart couldn't help but sink slightly. Were you just a figment of his imagination at this point? The alcohol and desperation were getting to him, which was far from a good combo.

He sighed, and told himself that if he saw you again, nothing would stop him from talking to you. Taking yet another deep breath, he started writing his drunken ramblings onto a small napkin, until something that looked like a lyric started to form.

"So you're on the prowl wonderin' whether she left already or not..."

[lordeemailarchive]

Pure Heroine turns 10

(27/09/2023) (PH 10 YEAR ANNIVERSARY DISPATCH)

Living in Ruins of a Palace within My Dreams

Photo by Simeon Patience

Hi,

Firstly, I wanna say thank you for your extremely supportive and kind messages after my last newsletter. I genuinely feel deeply cared for, less alone, and more sure that things will be okay after sending it! Albeit with a slight overshare hangover. I think a part of me knew that I had hit a wall, and that I needed to invite in the compassion and understand I’d been struggling to generate on my own, and then I’d have something to draw from and mirror. It feels like it’s working. I feel incredibly grateful that we have this relationship, that we can each give when the other needs it. Beautiful stuff x

Now, might U have noticed it’s 2013 mode round here????????? Yes that’s right, it’s a very special anniversary… Pure Heroine is... ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡TEN ˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚ YEARS ˚༘♡ ⋆｡˚ OLD ੈ✩‧₊˚ TODAY ! ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You may (like me most of the time) hold the opinion that this album has been MYTHOLOGISED QUITE ENOUGH, but a milestone is a milestone, so I thought coming here and typing some shit to u about this time would be a fun thing for those who care.

2 xxxxtra special ltd time only commemorative designs by Hassan, who did the original of this bootleg tee 10 years ago❤️

It’s close to midnight, and I’ve just finished scrolling through my entire computer and phone archive from 2011-2013. Going on this memory lane ride has reminded me, for one thing, what a different time it was technologically. We were just starting to be able to see ourselves in real time, but we weren’t constantly connected. I had an iPod touch until halfway through 2013, which didn’t have a front camera or internet access, and my sister and I shared a MacBook, which is where we did our schoolwork and I wrote my lyrics. I took my first few years of selfies on Photo Booth…. Just let that… sink in!!!

Note the Royals Nat Geo pic in background— it’s happening...

When I was fourteen, my greatest work of art was my bedroom. A very cool, very classic teenage bedroom, Andie’s and Duckie’s from Pretty in Pink meets the Virgin Suicides— fairy lights, fabric on the ceiling, candles, stolen road signs (badman), paper lanterns, beer crate shelves, magazine pictures and club night posters and permanent marker on the walls. Bliss! I’d sit up there and vibe out, taking a lot of selfies. Creating a small-scale work of art using the self, and then examining the product from every angle, was the best method I had to express myself and exercise creativity at that time, and I now see it as an important PH incubation phase, whether I knew it or not. Something really amazing about a young person starting to see their own face and body for the first time, coming to a very secret understanding that they are beautiful. 

I started to smoke weed, which gave me a deeper understanding of sensory pleasure, and allowed me to start to see my world as a possible work of art. I’d go on long walks around the neighbourhood, and began to mythologise the stuff around me (big empty floodlit rugby fields/bus rides/dark streets/boredom/isolation) into the motifs that would become Pure Heroine. I wore a lot of like, navy lipsticks from the 2 dollar shop. God, this aesthetic, It’s just TOO MUCH.

At some point in here, I met Joel, and another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. When you’re a teenager, you’re particularly sensitive to adults being condescending to you, not respecting the specific and finely tuned skills you have because of the ones you don’t. I was always on the look out for it, and from the first day meeting Joel, I knew that he would never give me that feeling. Which I’m sure wasn’t easy — my wallet at the time was the foot of a pair of tights that I cut off and knotted at the top — but somehow from the very beginning he made me feel like my ideas had value, like we were peers, in the most sensitive and age-appropriate way. 

My view for thousands of hours making this album

We got on a call earlier this week and broke down the complete history of making the album. We both agreed that making Pure Heroine was deeply exciting and intimate and free, and still one of our most treasured experiences. I’ve linked it here.The second half of 2013 is when I really met the world, went to America and Australia and Europe for the first time. I found an incredible (for some reason Christmas themed) disposable camera image of my stage outfits all over the floor of my hotel room, which really sums up how ad hoc everything was at the beginning — a jetlagged sixteen year old, late for lobby call and frantically stuffing thousands of dollars of borrowed clothes into a suitcase. 

In this stage, it felt like I pulled everything off by the skin of my teeth. Every week was the most exciting week of my whole life, I was so tired and still didn’t have a winter coat and took everyone clamouring for a piece of me completely for granted. I had zero cultural context, had no idea if an interview or TV show was huge or small, and so breezed through it all truly not giving a fuck. I am not a naturally nonchalant person, it was literally just too much to care about, I could hardly get up in the morning, so I just said absolutely whatever I felt like, all kinds of wild shit, if someone did something corny I’d say so, I was ruthless in that way that only teens are. Then through that year we went on our first tours, met you guys for the first time, hours and hours of hugs after the show, my favourite part so far and where it started to feel real for me. James took a lot of beautiful film photos through that time, and I’m really grateful he did.

Ten years goes really fast. One minute you’re wearing a leather collar with a giant crystal hanging off it to a Chanel party, and the next you’re blonde. A lot of stuff isn’t good after ten years. But I am still totally touched by this sweet record. I have deep respect for the vision of the little one making it. 

Going back through all of this has reminded me of something that feels important to point out, whether you make art or not: everything starts out as a bunch of bullshit in a laptop. Pure Heroine was a handful of Photo Booth selfies and emotional Word documents and Tumblr posts (and a gorgeous over-decorated bedroom) before it was even one song. I had no reason, on paper, to believe that I was capable of anything. But if you can trust that the first impulse you had to create came from a place of deep wisdom, develop a few principles for your decision-making, and absorb a lot of stuff you find inspiring, you’ll have something special on your hands. Pure Heroine exists because I had the tiniest inkling of what I’ve now come to see as one of my guiding principles: that each of us have a handful of songs inside us that are ours, and only ours, to sing. Your specific interests and upbringing and physiology and experiences exist only in you; you are sitting on a gold mine that no one can rob. Whatever that means to you, whatever that statement you were born to make is, I invite you to take a big breath and make it.

All my love for another ten years of all this, and more, and more—

Ella XXXXXXXXXX

(source: received this email)

[harlowtales]

Jack x Reader have a fling in her office at Jack’s record label after meeting that same day.

***18+ smut*** Romance

You had started working at Generation Now a few months ago. You were always hoping Jack would come in but he never did. His album was done, tour was over, and he was spending most of his time in KY these days. You got a pretty sweet gig working with the artists on their general development. You had earned Drama’s trust and he let you sit in on studio sessions sometimes. You had a great ear and knowledge of Hip Hop and he respected you for that.

“Aye Yo!” Drama poked his head into your office one day. “I need your ear!”

“Now?! I’m kinda busy. I have a meeting with Uzi today.” You replied

“Really?” Drama said raising an eyebrow “What’s up with him?”

“I can’t tell you that. Client privilege” you said smiling

“Jack’s coming in today.” Drama teased

“Good for Jack.” You said distractedly as you were typing until you realized what Drama had said “Wait..WHAT?”

“You heard me. Can you tear yourself away now?” Drama poked you

“I am too nervous.” You said shyly “Maybe count me out.”

“Oh fuck no. You’re coming into the studio when he gets here. Go freshen up he should be here in about an hour.” Drama ordered

“I can’t do that to Uzi. Honestly, I am a huge fan, but Uzi’s so busy. I have to take his call.” You said firmly

That’s why Drama hired you. You were a fan but didn’t have a groupie bone in your body. “Aight then. I get it no worries.” He said as he closed the door behind him.

After your call with Uzi you forgot Jack was even there. You headed out for lunch and heard a deep voice and southern drawl coming from the studio. “Oh fuk! He’s really here.” You thought nervously. You tried passing by the studio as fast as you could but Drama caught you.

“Yo! Come here real quick!” He called out to you motioning you over to the studio.

Jack was sitting with his back turned to the studio entrance facing Drama and laughing about something. You would know those broad shoulders and head of curls anywhere. He threw his head back cackling in that hilarious way you had only seen on Instagram. As Drama called you Jack turned around abruptly.

“Jack y/n, y/n this is The King of KY.” Drama said choking a little on his pull of weed.

Jack looked at you a bit stunned at first. You were looking pretty good that day, although you didn’t even think about it. You just threw yourself together that morning rushing to work. Your hair was in a sexy, curly loose pile on top of your head with longer curls coming down framing your fresh face which just happened by accident. You were dressed conservatively and professional but Jack found it incredibly sexy. You looked like a hot librarian in a white button down shirt tucked neatly into a pencil skirt that accentuated your curves and ample backside. You awkwardly pushed your thick glasses further up on your nose and reached out to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you Mr. Harlow” you said professionally and as lady-like as can be.

Jack was around a lot of beautiful women all the time, but the smart, quirky ones made him self-conscious. He started shifting nervously. Drama knew the signs right away as he knew Jack like his own brother. He looked at him curiously noticing Jack was crushing HARD. Jack extended his hand without saying anything, just smiled and nodded.

The way you gently said “Mr. Harlow.” And looked down a bit with a shy smile made Jack crazy.

“Ummm… so Drama you wanted something?” You asked “I’m just headed out for a bit”

“Headed out for what? I need your ear.” He said playfully. “Please sit down and help me with this beat. I can order some food” He closed the door to the studio.

Fully inside now, you saw Seddy and some other guys you didn’t know sitting on the couch around the corner. The air was thick with weed smoke. Jack watched you walk in your snug pencil skirt across the room to the studio board. There was a young rapper in the booth you had never seen.

“Listen to this for me.” Drama said while pushing random buttons. A throbbing beat burst through the massive speakers at either side. The sound amplified in a soft, muffled way within the dark, padded walls. Drama bobbed his head steadily to the beat.

You bobbed your head in silence and a look of absolute concentration on your face. The beat was so sick, but there was a little sound you felt didn’t need to be there. Jack was studying your face, and In fact, he was studying your every move without you noticing.

“Hmmmm.” You said finally. “Do you hear that little tweak?” You said looking at Drama

“Holy fuck I totally hear it now!” Jack said. Saying the most he’d said since meeting you. “Why did you have it turned down?” He asked you

“Your ear gets used to the whole big sound so you can’t hear the little things.” You nerdily explained very seriously, not making it any easier for Jack who loved nerdy women.

“You’re fucking magic!” Drama said patting you on the back “look see this kid in the booth” He nudged in the direction of the booth with his chin “He needs a lot of work but he has potential. Work with him for me. Polish him up a bit ok?”

“No worries boss I got you.” You gave Drama a friendly crew handshake and got up to go. “Look I really need a walk and some food. I’ll just go grab something.”

“I’ll take you.” Jack piped up “Where are you headed?”

“Ummm that little chicken spot couple blocks away. Pointless to drive really. I’ll be fine but thank you. Mr. Harl….I mean Jack.” You put you hand over your mouth in a muffled giggle.

Drama was looking from you to Jack in this back and forth. He had it in mind to introduce you two for a while but Jack was so busy. In fact, he was thinking of adding you exclusively to Jack’s team but he just needed to watch you a bit longer and have you prove yourself before offering you such an exclusive assignment. Now He could see Jack was feeling you and thought maybe offering you that kind of position might not be a good idea. He knew you could be professional at all times, but Jack…that was another story.

At this point Jack had no clean thoughts, imagining you on your back in his bed. Suddenly he snapped back to reality. “Nonsense! Hop in the Jeep I got you, lunch is on me.” He insisted cheerily “Dram? You good?” Jack said to Drama who was now shooting him a suspicious look.

“Naw I’m good. Can I talk to you right quick?” Drama said hastily pulling Jack to the side as you walked to Jack’s Jeep parked out front “You think you’re slick huh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jack said with faking innocence “I am merely giving a lady a ride.”

“That she said she doesn’t need. She works here Jack.” Drama warned “Don’t fuck that up for her.”

“Da fuck? I can’t even touch her?” Jack said incredulously “Like some off limits shit?”

“Yes! Exactly.” Drama shot back “You’re dick is going to make her emotional when I need her to focus. I was thinking of adding her to your team so don’t fuck that up!” Drama was close to Jack’s face now to emphasize his point.

“Fine.” Jack said bitterly “Maybe you should pick teammates with less ass.” He mumbled angrily and headed towards his Jeep fumbling for his keys.

He saw you leaning on the car waiting patiently. You gave him a big smile as he walked up to you. Jack felt weak as he looked at you standing there so nicely, no attitude even though you were hungry and had been waiting for a bit for him to come out.

“Hey you know I’ve been waiting for you, I’m Out Front” You easily joked saying his lyrics back to him and doing a little dancey dance. He had to laugh too. The more he was around you the more he liked you.

“Get in” he said chuckling. He buckled up and as he crept out of his parking spot watching his rearview he noticed you yawn. “Tired and hungry?” He said remembering he wasn’t supposed to be too friendly. His eyes trailed down to your full thighs as you sat down next to him. The seatbelt was pressing into the middle of your chest accentuating your generous breasts. “Keep your eyes on the road” he said to himself clenching the wheel with anxiety.

“Yeah, I can’t say I get much sleep.” You said sighing and leaning your head to one side and catching a magical whiff of Jack’s cologne. It didn’t help that he had a slim fitting black tank on, black cargo pants with a short cuban link chain and sunglasses.

Jack thought you were adorable. How was he going to keep his hands off you he wasn’t yet sure, but he didn’t want to piss off Drama or hurt your career.

“So… you really don’t listen to music in your car” you said quizzically

Jack was thrilled you knew that but he cooly contained it. If this was going to work Drama’s way he had to appear as detached as possible. “Yup.” He said shortly as he made a turn. “Here we are.” He announced abruptly parking in front of the chicken place.

“Thanks” you said feeling him acting off all of a sudden. Going from friendly to cold almost.

“Need me to wait?” He asked seemingly annoyed sounding

“I think I got it from here.” You said just as icy and jumped down out of the Jeep firmly closing the door.

Jack sensed you could tell he switched up. He felt terrible but it was the only way. “K see ya” He said peeling off leaving you at the restaurant.

“Men!” You said exasperated “fucking jerk.” As you walked back to the studio you heard a honk from the street. You refused to turn your head. You had enough of men for one day. You heard it again and realized the car was slowly following beside you. It was Jack.

“Hey!” He called out cupping his hands around his mouth.

You turned up your ear buds. You proceeded to walk and munch on your chicken as you bobbed your head. Intent on ignoring him. Jack parked his Jeep and walked quickly to catch up to you.

“Geezus.” He said a little out of breath stopping right in front of you blocking your way “I’m sorry for that back there.” He said his shades off now to look you in the eye, his baby blue eyes sparkling in the sun. “I said I would give you a ride and all and then I acted weird. You want the truth?” He said reaching out his arm to stop you, his hand firmly gripping your shoulder now as he was desperate for you to understand how he felt.

“Look Mr. Harlow.” You said purposely like he was a complete stranger “I don’t know you so it’s whatever.” You said flippantly while biting into a chicken wing.

Something inside of Jack panicked at the thought of you thinking he was an asshole. “I had to pretend to be an asshole because Drama saw I was feeling you and said to leave you alone.” Jack said hurriedly as he knew you were intent on continuing to walk back to the studio and pretend you never met him.

You paused in shock. “Was this real?” You whispered in your head. “I’m standing on the street eating Chicken wings and Jack Harlow is telling me he’s feeling me!!?”

“Yo.. can you hear me?” Jack said snapping his fingers in your face.

“I’m sorry what did you say?” You wanted to hear it again.

“Look you heard me. Now get back in the Jeep please.” He said firmly but nicely “Give me a second chance to make a first impression.”

You buckled under the weight of that dimpled grin and found yourself saying “Ok fine”

You rode back to the studio with no music and no talking. Just both of you looking straight ahead at the road. Jack broke the silence “Look.” He offered tapping the wheel as he parked. “Not a word to Drama about this” he said slowly

“Ok no problem. I mean you’re never around anyway and we’re both professionals” You said lying to yourself.

“Exactly. Jack said.” lying to himself as well “Ready to go back in?” He said his eyes perusing your body one last time.

“I just have to ask…” you piped up

“Anything.” Jack said eagerly

“Why me? I’m not your type whatsoever.” You said decisively

“Oh really?” Jack said his hand still gripping the gear shift way too hard for being in park. “What’s my type?” He quizzed

“Well you know…dumb IG models” You reasoned

“Every man likes dumb IG models.” Jack said “But then there’s them ones that make you laugh and can teach you something.” He said his hand now absent-mindedly trailing up your thigh

“Jack…please” You protested weakly “I just met you and Drama said…”

“Fuk Drama.” He said exasperated as he withdrew his hand and sat back in his seat.

“I understand it must be quite the thing for you to be with anyone.” You sympathized

Look I don’t want to get you in trouble so lets go back in.” He said sadly

You suddenly felt rebellious. “Jack?” You said stopping him from opening the Jeep door “Wait” You took his hand in yours and went up to his ear grazing the outer edges with your lips and whispered “I won’t tell Drama���

Jack felt like he was about to explode right there and resisted the urges he was feeling “Fuk.” He said “What are you saying?”

“Would you like to come over sometime? I mean next time your in town and you have more time?” You asked

“I…I would..um yes” He stuttered with a deep swallow

“Then let’s go back in” You said winking at him

Jack felt his manhood rising and tried to act completely normal as he stepped back into the studio. You went to your office to avoid anymore conversation with Drama while Jack was around.

That evening It was about 7PM and you decided to finally stop working. You didn’t hear any bass booming anymore from the studio and figured everyone must’ve left. As you shut down your laptop and leaned back in your chair stretching and yawning, someone was turning your office door. You cut the lights and tensed up while looking around the room for anything to hit the intruder with. A hoodie slowly appeared from between the crack in the door. You snuck around so as to be behind the person and whack them one. They said to themselves “Shit! She’s gone.”

“I’m still here loser!” You exclaimed “I thought I was about to get robbed!” All the fear left you once you saw it was Jack. “What in the world are you doing here? Did you forget something?” You asked concerned

“I left with Drama and snuck back. I knew you were still here. I saw the light under the door.” Jack explained whispering

“Oh?” You said with slow pleasure

“Yeah.” He said taking his hoodie off

“What do you want?” You challenged

“I never ask myself that question, because I get what I want.” He said in a sexy low growl as he backed you into your desk and pressed his full body to yours

“Ummm listen Jack, I don’t know, this is soon” You said trying to keep him back with your hand to his chest

He responded by nuzzling into your neck and kissing it. “Say what now?” He said clearly not listening to you

“Well, I mean, we just met today.” You reasoned

“I can’t get you off my mind.” Jack countered “I had to come back”

His knee was massaging your inner thigh coaxing you to make way for him to enter. “Oh lord.” You groaned. There was a couch in your office and Jack motioned over to it.

“We don’t have to fuck” He said brazenly

You nodded not even fully aware of what you were doing as it felt like you were floating to the couch with him. Not even thinking you sat on top of him and he cupped your ass. He proceeded to undo your blouse and could feel your heat through your panties. “God you want this bad” he said teasing your space with his bulge. You got off his lap to finish getting undressed and left a wet spot. “ Holy fuk” he said in amazement.

You nervously chuckled as you unhooked your bra and dropped your underwear. You just stood there not believing you were doing this in your office with JACK HARLOW that you met that day. Jack just sat on the couch looking at your body. You weren’t skinny but didn’t care what he thought. This was all about you. “You looking fucking thick and good.” Jack said as he beckoned for you to come closer. He caressed you and kissed your stomach.

“I’m sorry Jack, I know you don’t drink but I need to loosen up a bit.” You said stepping back and getting a drink from the mini bar in your office.

“I got no issue with you getting loose.” Jack said fully relaxed

You sat down next to him on the couch turned to the side and leaning on your elbow. You just looked at him. Not knowing what to say. You never felt so adventurous and shy at the same time. Jack looked back at you not speaking. The energy between the two of you was high. You we’re both panting slightly not having really done anything yet. You got up off the couch and put on some Norah Jones that was already on the record player in your office. Her soft, melodic voice disappeared at times into the jazz ensemble. “Do you like jazz Jack?” You ask feeling a bit more relaxed now, swaying to the melody with your drink.

“I love jazz” He said getting up to join you. You swayed together with your clothes littered all over the room. He took your drink out of your hand and drew you closer. The two of you danced as his hand traveled down you back and you held him at the waist. Jack started to get hard. “Please.” He whispered touching his forehead to yours “Please let me inside of you.”

Your walls ached and you got even wetter at the sound of his soothing voice asking you to give yourself to him. You wanted to but you weren’t completely sure. “You could have anyone the day you met them.” You said

“I’m not like this I swear.” He said feeling strangely drawn to you from the time you appeared in that pencil skirt and nerdy glasses. He decided to take more decisive action. He didn’t want to push, but a lot of guys passed through the studio and he wanted you on him only. Jack wasn’t one to share once he really liked someone. He broke the embrace you were sharing and took your hand and placed it on his bulge.

You reached into his underwear and started to gently stroke him. Jack was sensitive and he let out a deep groan. He was putty in your hands. You knelt down and slowly licked him up the underside of his generous size pausing at the tip until you engulfed the entire shaft. You twisted your head every which way while being seductively gentle. Saliva oozed down his cock as you made him feel like he was leaving his body. Not being able to stand it anymore he backed away. “Sit” he said breathlessly motioning to a chair. You sat obediently. Jack stood in front of you and took both of your voluptuous breasts in his hands. He put his strong manhood between them and worked up a throbbing rhythm. You spit on the tip and tickled the head with your tongue.

“That’s it.” You said heaving “it’s all yours”

Jack left your breasts and forcibly opened your legs. He was on his knees now. The hairs on the underside of his lower lip tickling your now soaking wet pussy. He sucked all your juices while moaning, sounding like he was eating his favourite meal. You grabbed a handful of his soft chestnut curls and pushed your hips into his face. He slid his hands under your butt and held on tightly putting his tongue in and out of you and sucking your clit like a mango seed. You quivered and shook as you clenched and your essence gushed out. “Uuuuuugggghhh!” You cried, your abdomen sweatily rising and falling with every heavy breath you took.

“Up” Jack ordered as he greedily wiped his mouth from your cum and stood up. He hoisted you up and you locked your legs around his waist by your ankles and hung on around his neck as he entered you. “Yes! Fuck me.” You said aggressively as you bounced on him.

His pecs and arms stayed flexed to hold you up as you rode him in air. Eventually you gracefully descend down him as you were both drenched in passion. “Fucking freak” he teased you and slapped your ass

“Owwww!” You exclaimed rubbing the spot that now left a mark.

“On your back” he ordered backing you up to the couch. As you laid down he hitched your legs up on his shoulders and slid in.

“Fuck!!” You said in the most delicious pain as you felt the pressure of him opening you up again.

Your pussy felt so good as your walls were fully pounded, warm, wet, and soft. Jack hiked your ass up and down with force on his hard shaft. “Jack please cum!” you cried out as your hips grinded together. He pulled out for a second teasing your clit with his now dark red tip. He was about to burst. He dropped your legs and spread you wide open entering you one last time. His full body and weight was on you as he thrust in and out. You held onto his back and buried your face into his shoulder to muffled your screams. He got you into a head lock and thrusted so hard you felt like you were about to break.

“Uuuuuggghhhhh” he slowly let out a loud moan and released everything he had inside of you. He pulled out looking down at his dick dripping with your juices and collapsed beside you completely empty and out of breath.

You got up and grabbed some tissue cleaning him and yourself up. “You ok?” You asked him finally able to speak.

“I’m the happiest fucking man right now” he managed to say between laboured breaths as he began to regain his composure. “Holy fuck you hotter than hell.” He said, having decided then and there that Drama could go fuck himself. He wrapped a blanket flung over the couch around both of you and cradled you in his arms.

“Let’s get some sleep” he said

“Here? In my office?” you asked him “Naw I can’t do that. We can shower and sleep at my place” You offered.

Jack kissed you on your arm as he caressed it and said “Well since your the future Mrs. Harlow I suppose that’s ok.” He reasoned playfully

“The future Mrs. What? Come on Jack how many times have you said that right after.” You said nudging him in his ribs

“I can see your not easily impressed.” He said actually impressed by that.

“Or easily taken” you said firmly getting serious “I have my career.”

“Oh we’ll see about that.” He assured you “Cuz you bout to lose your job.” He teased rocking you in his arms

You both burst out laughing, looked at each other and said at exactly the same time “FUCK DRAMA!”

@jackmans-poison @jackharloww @jackharlowunseen @a-moment-captured @angelbae05 @jacks-daycare @itsyagirljaz @killatravtramp

[questionablecuttlefish]

LIGHTCANNON WEEK DAY 4 ~ "Pop Star" ~ Under Your Lights

Lighting technician Luxanna "Lux" Crownguard is used to working under pressure. And there's no bigger gig than working with pop idol sensation, Seraphine, especially with her fiery latest tour for her new album Torment...

If only Lux could keep her entire focus on her job, and not on the firecracker backstage, the explosive special effects genius, Jinx...

(Finally my Day 4, only a FEW days late) Lux cupped her fingers together and leaned them on her chin, surveying the board of switches and sliders before her in her booth. Below, Seraphine giggled into her mic and swept her arm out, waving to the crowd, “Oh, what’s that? One more number? Well – we might just have something a bit spicier up our sleeves, just for you…” Lux found a smile prickling at her lips. “Scratch, take it away!” Sera shouted. “And…three…two…one…Jinx.” Lux murmured into her mic as she pushed her sliders. Timed, perfectly, with the first ragged, spiky riffs tearing out of the notorious Zaun Diva’s guitar, and with the shift of Lux’s colour sliders to bathe the stage in a hellish red, five plumes of smoke and noise exploded along the front of the stage, casting Seraphine and her band – Scratch on the lead guitar, Ekko on the bass, Zeri at the keys, Briar on the drums – as silhouetted demons in the gloomy atmosphere Lux had created… “Gotta love a good breakup song,” Lux sighed to herself as Sera switched from her sugary pop voice to the angry growling opening notes of her shocker latest single, Torment, “Gives us two weirdos plenty of excuses to get creative.”

[thecutestlittlebunbunfairy]

I think I recalled you saying this was your fave on his latest album 👀 so this one please! 🥰

Hey so I have NO idea where this came from but here it is!

pairing. Irish Mobster!Andy x Reader

wc. ~1400

warnings. Talks of violence, mention of abuse toward reader (not from Andy, abusive ex!Ransom, guns

Thank you so much miss @cocoamoonmalfoy I hope you like it!

The bar was certainly old. The wood paneling had a lifetime of lover’s initials carved in its wood. The red leather padding on the seats cushioned you as you settled in the corner booth, making sure you could keep an eye on the door. Cigarette smoke left a heavy haze over the place, clouding your vision and making you cough at the smell. Probably the last bar in Massachusetts you could smoke in. But the man you were looking for was here, at The Black Rose.

Andrew Barber.  

A waitress came over asking if you wanted a drink. Normally when you drank, it had been fun fruity cocktails with your girl friends. At least until you started dating Ransom. Then you didn’t go much of anywhere. He’s why you were here tonight.

You ordered a rum and coke, figuring that was a standard anywhere, and settled in as much as you could. Not that you had long to wait.

“Well well well… who might you be?” A low voice purred with the hint of an Irish brogue to it. You turned and swallowed as you took him in. Tall, was the glaringly obvious term. So tall you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes and found there were an intense shade of stormy grey. Not many were brave or dumb enough to look him in the eye. You weren’t sure which category you fell into. 

He wore a black peacoat over a navy-blue button up; the top buttons open to reveal the Celtic knot tattoo on his collar bone. You were sure there was even more drawings and designs all over, judging by the designs on his hands, highlighting the silver rings he wore. Including a Claddagh ring. It was similar to the one on your right hand, pointed inward to show you were taken.

Ransom had ripped it off your hand himself to turn it around. Nearly dislocating 3 fingers.

You finally found your voice to tell him your name and he repeated it, making you shiver. It had been a long time since you’d heard your name said so thoughtfully.  

How before I heard it from your mouth My name would always hit my ears As such an awful sound

“Are you…Mr. Barber?” you asked as he settled across from you.

“Please love, call me Andy. Now, what I can do for a little thing like yourself?” The waitress set down your rum and a coke and a whiskey in front of Andy. Even though he’d never ordered one.

“Well, uhm.  I need...” You held the drink tightly in your hands as you considered what you were genuinely about to ask him for. “I need you to take care of someone.”

Andy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh? Is it the same person who gave you that shiner?” You touched your hand to your face gently.

That was 2 weeks ago. You’d accidentally burnt dinner. You’d thought it was healed enough that you thought you could cover it up with make up but you in Andy’s line of work, he saw enough of them to know when someone was covering it up.

“Yes.”

You took the photo of Ransom out of your purse. It had been your 3rd date; he’d taken you to a local carnival and won you a teddy bear. 3 months later he trashed the bear and called you stupid for holding on to it. “His name is Ransom Drysdale. I can give you his schedule, whatever you need. I just. I need him gone.” Andy took a long sip of his drink and leaned in close to you.

“You don’t seem like the type to want someone dead, sweetheart.”

“I’ve tried to leave him. I’ve talked to the police. But his family has money. He has connections. So, I thought. If I came to you…” You bit your lip “I don’t have a lot of money. But I have some jewelry I could pawn.” You clenched the golden locket around your neck.

“Your ma give you that?” You nodded, thinking of the woman who’d raised you by herself for 15 years. Andy smiled. “Ain’t that like them? Gifting life to us again.” His voice was low, as if you weren’t meant to here it.

He took the photo and studied it for a minute, then looked back you. There was something about his eyes. There was a burning fire behind them but a concerned sadness weighed down his face.

“He did something bad. Really bad, didn’t he?” You paused. He looked at you as if he had all the time in the world to wait for you to answer. You knew you had nothing left to lose, so you took a long sip off your drink to muster your courage.

 “A few days ago, I tried to take care of him myself. I bought a gun, figuring the next time he came at me, I could threaten him or it would be self defense. Instead, I came home and it was sitting on the table. He told me if I did something like that again.  He’d use it on me.”

Andy was silent for quite a long time and you couldn’t quite read him.

“You can keep the locket, sweetheart. Consider this a pro-bono job.” Your jaw dropped.

“But why would you do that?”  Andy looked away from you, then reached over to take your hand and you were shocked to find how warm his was.

“I’ve helped a lot of women over the years. Usually, I help them get away from assholes, get them set up in a new place with a whole new life. And I’d always take care of the ex as a bonus. But you. You went the direct route. Asked me to kill the bastard myself. You were even willing to do it yourself. You have a sense of self perseverance. and that makes you so brave and beautiful.”

To share the space with simple living things Infinitely suffering But fighting off like all creation The absence of itself

The way Andy spoke to you made your heart feel lighter than it had in such a long time. Not chained down. Not to mention the way he stared at you as if he wanted to cherish every moment with you.

“Plus, there is something I want.” Andy said. You clenched your hands, apprehensive at words but he smirked, playfully. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I know the owner and chef of a fantastic place in the North End.”

This life lived mostly underground Unknowing either sight nor sound ‘Til reaching up for sunlight.

 You felt like Andy was holding out his hand to pull you up out of the dark place Ransom was keeping you in for so long. You couldn’t put your finger on it but Andy made you feel like you could trust him. He made you feel safe. Even if this was only the first time you’d met him.

“Deal.” Andy lifted his drink and you tapped it against his, both finishing off your drinks.

“Do you have somewhere safe to go tonight? Do you need a ride?” Andy asked, his voice full of concern. “Might I suggest you stay at my place until after tomorrow night? Then I can help arrange a safe place to stay.” Or convince you to stay longer, Andy thought to himself.

“Stay, at your place? Isn’t’ that a little bold?” your face heated up at the implications.

“Not at all, love. I’ve got plenty of bedrooms. Though mine is the comfiest.” Your voice caught in your throat And you felt the need to go splash some cold water on your face.

While you excused yourself to the restroom Andy pulled out his phone, calling Ari. His right hand.

“Hey Levinson, I need you to take Rogers and Barnes on a special assignment. I finally found that shitstain Drysdale who’s been creeping in on our area. And he put his hands on my girl.” He smiled as he thought back to how you’d made him feel when he’d seen you for the first time. Like a beautiful ray of sunshine had come into his life, but not without some thunder.

 But you spoke some quick new music That went so far to soothe this soul As it was and ever shall be

“Get back to me when you have him. But I got some special plans, so he needs to at least be breathing. Even if it’s laboriously. In the meantime, I gotta call Vincenzo and make a reservation.”  

[definedbydaylight]

“It’ll Be The Last Time” - Matty Healy x F!Reader

Part 2:

Masterlist: .°˖✧

Word Count: 2132

Warnings: angst-ish, smoking, alcohol, drugs and semi-smutty?, mostly just mentions of it, also i promise this is a Matty fic i just love George so i can’t help but add some love for him in there

Series Summary: “You’ve known Matty since you were 14 and the boy has never failed to get on your last nerve, but over the years you two end up having unexplainable moments where you can’t help but feel you two are connected in a way you’ll never feel with anyone else, until one night he tells you something that may change how you view the boy forever…”

January 13th 2011

Today is finally the day, your debut album is coming out and you should be over the moon, you should be enjoying being out with your friends celebrating, but instead all you can think about is the words Matty spoke to you last summer. You hadn’t really spoken to him since, you’d been out with all the boys since then, you really couldn’t avoid it cause somehow Kelsey and Ross were still going strong all these years later, so you’d seen Matty, you just hadn’t spoken to him past a simple greeting. The club you were at was hosting a release party for you, a small area roped off for just your group, your manager had set everything up as a surprise, you would’ve been fine with a small listening party in your flat, but Kelsey insisted you go along with the idea and enjoy your big day. Honestly she was probably more excited for the release than you were, she’d been planning your outfit for the last week, acting as if it was your wedding day.

The situation at hand felt all too familiar to you, the fact that she’d picked you out a green dress to wear only added onto the nostalgic feeling, but you could never say no to her. You’re currently downing your third dirty shirley of the night, you were over an hour into the party and there was still another 45 minutes before the album dropped and your sad music would be blaring through this club, you almost left bad for the people who came out here who didn’t know what they were about to be subjected to. George and Adam are the first of the boys to arrive besides Ross who’d come early with you and Kels, they walk over to your chosen spot in a booth in the far corner of your section, they both greet you with a hug.

“Don’t look too happy about beating us to an album now y/n!” George jokes to you.

“Oh please we all knew she’d be the first.” Adam nudges your arm. “But for real love what’s with the sulking in the corner? It looks like it’s Kels’s release party!”

All three of you look to Ross and Kelsey dancing together to whatever upbeat club song was playing at the moment, the instrumental far too loud and drowning out any words that would help you identify it, you give a small laugh.

“Just preparing myself for the world to either hate it or love it I guess, I’m ungodly nervous.” You admit to the two.

“Oh please y/n/n! ‘With Your Permission’ is going to smash, every song is a fucking tune and you know it!” George had always been the most encouraging about your music dreams.

“Everyone’s a critic though.” You reply slamming back the rest of your drink, when you look back up you see Matty entering with his girl of the week on his arm. “I need a shot! George care to join me?”

He smiles and follows you back up to the bar, you can’t see but you feel Matty’s eyes following you both as George snakes his arm around your waist guiding you through the crowd.

“4 shots of Tequila please.” You smile kindly at the bartender as he prepares the liquor for you both.

“Any particular reason for the excessive alcohol consumption?” George teases you as the shots are set in front you both.

“Killing the nerves babes.” You smile at him, it’s only a partial lie, you were trying to drown your nerves in alcohol, but it wasn’t about critics or ratings, it was about his best mate who’d drunkenly confessed his love for her just barely 5 months ago now.

“Good enough for me.” He kisses your forehead and you both shoot back two shots in each in quick succession.

Afterwards your eyes find Matty’s and you can’t read his expression like you usually could… it was going to be a long night.

2006:

George and you and had been off and on since the dance, you weren’t really official in the dating sense, but when you both got horny or felt like being romantic you knew exactly who to go to. No one in the group questioned it, you were teenagers and you had sworn to Kelsey about a thousand times that you didn’t want anything serious and she trusted your decisions. The only person who took issue with it was Matty for now obvious reasons, he never really said it but his body language and snide comments told you enough about how he felt. Especially now as you were currently sat on George’s lap at another one of your school mate Josh’s parties, his hands on your waist and one of yours playing with the ends of his hair and the other holding a cider Ross had just brought you on his way back outside from the kitchen. Your whole group was gathered around a makeshift fire pit in the backyard, the heat from the flames keeping you all warm in the crappy early english spring, you were honestly surprised it hadn’t started raining yet as you stared at the dark clouds overhead.

“I’m bored!” Kelsey interrupts the comfortable silence you all’d built up, minus the muffled party music coming from inside the house. “Ooo! Let’s play a game!”

The group groans in unison at the suggestion, but when she breaks out the puppy dog eyes at Ross he’s quick to convince everyone to agree to a drinking game.

“What game do you even have in mind?” You ask your best friend wondering what she might have up her sleeve this time.

“Let’s do never had I ever! You say something you’ve never done, and if someone in the group as done it, they have to take a shot! Adam would you be a dear and go grab us a bottle of something and a few those little plastic shot glasses I saw in kitchen? I’d make Ross do it but he’s just got back from the last trip I sent him on.” And of course no one can say no to Kelsey, so Adam nods and is off to the house.

You all set up in a little circle on the patio beside the fire pit, you’d taken your spot next to George and somehow you’d ended up directly across from Matty on the other side of the circle, his stare held on you and he nursed one of his many smokes of the night. You and Matty hadn’t spoke of what happened at the dance since that night, you’d felt bad in a way about how you’d just left him there, but he knew you liked George, his best mate, and he’d still kissed you. Adam returned with two bottles, one apple sourz and a store brand tequila, a baggie of shot glasses under one arm, behind him trailed the host Josh and you and Kelsey’s school friend Maya.

“Hope you don’t mind but I brought along some randoms to make it more interesting.” Adam says as he hands everyone a shot glass and places the alcohol in the center of the circle.

The game started innocent enough with stupid and playful “Never Have I Ever”s, everyone had taken as least 2 shots at this point, and you were all definitely starting to feel the affects of the alcohol. George had made the mistake of getting on Matty’s nerves by using a very specific embarrassing example to get him to take a shot, and what happened next didn’t help.

“Okay! Ummm.” It was Maya’s turn, and she had no clue what flood gates she was about to open, and neither did you. “Never Have I Ever… had sex…” She admitted quietly.

Ross and Kelsey both took their shot expectantly, as did Matty, you felt your face heat up as your glanced to George at your side, he quirked his eyebrow up at you as you both smiled and threw back your shots together.

“Y/N L/N!” Kelsey shouts from other side the circle. “You dirty dog! Why didn’t you tell me!?” She faked being hurt as she placed a hand over her heart.

You put your face in your hands at the new found attention from the group and leaned over into George, he sweetly rubbed your back and laughed a little at your embarrassment, but you knew it wasn’t in a mean way. The one person you expected to make a comment hadn’t spoken up at all, just sat in silence with a small smirk on his lips, something brewing in his eyes. Josh’s turn was next, then Adam, and finally it was Matty’s turn.

“Hmmm…” He feigned being deep in thought about what he’d say. “Oh! I know! Never Have I Ever kissed my date’s best mate while at a school dance.”

Silence overtook the group after he spoke, your face stilled and your heartbeat quickened as you made eye contact with him.

“That is so weirdly specific.” Maya laughs not knowing the gravity of the situation.

“Well?” Matty speaks up again. “Go ahead and take your shot June Bug.”

Everyone’s eyes were on you again, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment you left it was anger, you held your gaze on him as you took your shot.

“My turn.” You say with heat behind your words that everyone could feel.

“Umm no it’s Kels-” Josh tried to speak up before Adam slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Never Have I Ever tried to throw my best mate under the bus by telling his date all he wants from her is a ‘good shag’ before telling her I’ve always cared about you more then kissed her without thinking about the repercussions of my actions.” It’s your turn smirk at him. “Go ahead Matty…” You say drawing it out. “Take your shot.”

George is quietly fuming beside you and his grin on your waist tightens as Matty grits his teeth and takes his shot, the tension in the air is so think you could cut it with a knife, and your just glad you can tell his anger isn’t directed at you, but at the curly headed brunette.

“Jesus Christ Matty.” George mutters as he rubs his temples with his free hand. “You know if I wasn’t drunk as shit right now I would break your fucking nose.”

“Damn Matty you did not think that through.” Josh laughs trying to lighten the mood and failing.

Kelsey is watching at you as you stand up and turn to George, a worried expression on her face. “Fancy yourself a ‘good shag’ babes?” You smile at him.

He looks up at you, smiling right back. “With you? Always.” You grab his hand as he stands up, you both pass Matty as you walk to the house, but George pauses for a moment and leans down to Matty’s ear. “She’s bloody fantastic in bed by the way.”

You both enter the house taking up residence in the master bath for some privacy, meanwhile outside Ross is handing Matty’s ass to him on platter. Only Adam knew the true nature of Matty’s feelings for you, Matty didn’t open up about how he felt about these kinds of things easily, only telling Adam after he’d gotten wasted at his after the dance. Matty truly did feel bad with how he’d handled telling you about how he felt, but tonight he was drunk and high and couldn’t stop himself from being an ass after learning the George had been the one to deflower you.

“Lay off him man.” Adam tried to to speak up and Ross whips his head towards him.

“Are you kidding me! He acted liked a child and practically decided to try and ruin his relationship with not only y/n but his best mate as well in the process!” He yells, he then redirects his attention back to Matty. “What we’re you thinking Matthew!?”

Matty sat in silence now, just taking everything Ross had to throw at him, at some point before now he’d reached for the apple sourz and began to down as much as he could, feeling every emotion and yet none all at the same time. Kelsey was rubbing Ross’s back trying to get him to calm down but it wasn’t working and she eventually gave up, going to sit between Josh and Maya, trying to process the events of what just happened and why you hadn’t told her.

After several more minutes of verbal abuse from the friendly giant Matty had finally had enough. “FUCK OFF ROSS, I’M BLOODY IN LOVE WITH HER! OKAY!?”

Silence overtook the group once again, everyone finding out the truth 4 years before you did.

Part 3

a/n: okay haha idk i just got into a rhythm while writing this so idk if it’s good cause my brain cannot handle trying to check it over rn cause i have work in like an hour haha, but i’ll revise when i get home! anyway hope you all enjoy! xx

[spiteslucanis]

was tagged by the ever lovely @zhalar to share 9 albums i've been listening to, thank you for the opportunity <3 i've included my self-indulgent commentary on each, and i tried to mostly pick ones that i've specifically been listening to recently! (ps. thank you for songs you shared in the previous tag game we had, several ended up on my playlists)

lazily tagging anyone who sees this and wants to do it! just say i tagged you. i love hearing ppl talk about music

my album commentary under the read more cut bcs i ended up elaborating a lot

i. chappel roan, "the rise and fall of a midwest princess" — ALBUM of the YEAR. to me. i know it came out last year but still. no skips, love her and this album so so dearly. i need it on vinyl stat. inject that shit into my veins etc. current faves: guilty pleasure and super graphic ultra modern girl, but i did also recently listen to california for like a week non-stop

ii. ethel cain, "preacher's daughter" — again i'm LATE to this one, but as far as concept albums go, this is. the peak. like just. screaming crying throwing up, even. i made a powerpoint presentation abt this just so i could share its story with a friend. INSANITY. faves: american teenager, ptolemaea, sun bleached flies (i forgive it all as it comes back to me............. kill me)

iii. taylor swift, "tortured poets department" — i went to the eras tour earlier this month. speechless! wow. i still haven't recovered OR finished listening to all of anthology but i sure have been blasting who's afraid of little old me and but daddy i love him

iv. metteson, "look to a star" — actual album of the year for me. saw him live this spring and he was so so sweet (was manning his own merch booth afterwards and complimented my make up <3 also signed my vinyl) ANYWAY insane voice? like simply unbelievably beautiful. and this is just the debut album??? future records might simply eviscerate me i'm afraid. faves are second heart (!!!), naturally (but nothing comes natural to me / nothing comes naturally...... augh) and heavier than a heart

v. pet shop boys, "nonetheless" — breaking news my favourite old gay men are still releasing bops and bangers and heartbreaking melodies. this released close-ish to my birthday so i've claimed it as a birthday present. what more can i say, they're my favourite band of all time <3 faves rn: new london boy (skinheads will mock you, call you a fag / last laugh is yours, there's a brick in your bag!!) and bullet for narcissus

vi. orville peck, "stampede: vol. 1" — i adore this cowboy beyond measure. as i think i said in a different post, i don't usually care for features and duets, but this does indeed fucking slap. insane vocals as per usual. love the concept. can't wait for vol 2, and also, mr. peck PLEASE come to europe. faves: miénteme and cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other <3

vii. sea power, "disco elysium" — this is FINALLY on spotify!!! the game of all time, and the soundtrack is equally heartbreaking and hardcore (to the mega). i was going Through It at some point this spring and replayed DE and then just listened to burn baby burn outside whilst smoking. european depression core. faves rn: burn baby burn, saint-brune 1147 (small pinewood church) and precinct 41 major crime unit

viii. jan valta + adam sporka, "kingdom come: deliverance (OST)" — finally bought this recently when it was on sale and my god i'm so glad i did. an immensely entertaining game that you can tell was made with much love. henry of skalitz my SON. been listening to the soundtrack on/off, currently absolutely obsessed with the song poverty and famine (and särmä if you're reading i think you might vibe with this one?)

ix. alkemie, "pentiment (original soundtrack)" — rounding up with another video game soundtrack because i'll simply never get over pentiment. stole my heart in a major way. this soundtrack is STUNNING. can't do it justice with words. my faves rn: sic arsit historia kiersis and rüdeger's rehearsal

[heyidkyay]

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Nineteen

A/n: Hi! I know I've kept you waiting a while😅 and for that I'm sorry!! But thank you to all of those who've been patient with meee, this part just continues on from where we left off with Matty and G, but it spirals... a lot. It shifts back to the reader's pov soon enough though and we get to see an old character!:) SO hopefully you enjoy it💕

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: um, I hate this part because I always feel like I forget something, but much like the other 18 parts (?!) there is a lot of swearing, also some talk about shitting? uhhh, big emotions too, touches ever so slightly on appearance but not much... and yeah reckon that's about it?

Masterlist

--

(Matty’s POV again!)

Matty: Everything ok there?

Ross: Thought you were out on the pull why tf are you txting me? Ross: But we're good, she passed out half hour ago

*picture*

Matty: Alright, m glad Matty: Did she seem fine to u?

Ross: Bit teary but then she scoffed some chocolate and we finished off the Princess Diaries 

Matty: Teary? She was crying??

Ross: 🙄 She’s fine Matty, just stressed I reckon Ross: Anyway aren’t you usually in the back of a cab about now? 

Matty: Haha. Matty: Things didn’t turn out that way

Ross: ?

Matty: George is here

Ross: Fuck

Matty: Yeah exactly what I said mate

Ross: Still, pull up your big boy pants and have it out with him yeah? Ross: He’s your best mate

Matty: He’s also a massive prick

Ross: This coming from you?

Matty: Ur a prick too

Ross: Relax mate, you got this  Ross: It’s just George

Matty glanced up from his phone to stare into the mirror, one of those tiny ones you often found in bathrooms at dingy dive bars or your local. Ross was right though, he needed to relax. Take a quick breather and sort this shit out with George before it all got any worse. They had a fucking album to finish. Fans to please. 

He tugged a hand through his rapidly deflating curls and removed any thought of him getting his end away tonight from his head, before he forced himself back out into the dreary pub. He hadn’t been gone very long, but seemingly enough time had passed for one of the boys to have brought over another round. He avoided both sets of their eyes when he fell back into the booth, wishing he’d gone out for a smoke instead of having taken a piss.

It was Adam, clearing his throat, that had his head raising and Matty allowed his gaze to diver between the tables only two other occupants. He released a heavy sigh, “Let’s just get it over with, yeah? Can’t promise I won’t fly off the handle, but I’ll try my best not to call you an absolute arse every time you act like one.”

George visibly fought to bite his tongue at his words and Matty found he was rather glad to have the upper hand here. Maybe things wouldn’t end up so sour after all, and if shit did eventually hit the fan then at least he could get a laugh out of it. Win, win, eh?

“Matty…” Hann chided in gruff warning, and so he huffed then ultimately nodded towards the drummer, letting George take the lead.

— (and we’re back!)

The sound of hushed voices stirred me from my dreamless sleep and I sat up a tad to glance around the room, rubbing at my tired eyes when I realised I’d fallen asleep on the settee. It must’ve been quite late because when I shuffled slightly, I found that the tv had since been switched off and the lamp lights dimmed. It was then, as the groggy confusion cleared, that the faint whispers caught my attention again.

“What, and that’s it? You just forgive him then?”

My brow furrowed at Ross’s deep voice, he didn’t sound as confused as his questions made him out to be, though I did have to strain quite a bit to hear him.

“I just- I really don’t know, man.”

I blinked at Matty’s unexpected reply, wondering how long he’d been back. I chanced a glance over towards the far wall, where the clock-face stared back at me, it’s metal hands told me it was almost nearing two. 

It seemed that the pair of them had chosen to hide out in the kitchen in hopes not to disturb me, the hazing light beneath the door a dead giveaway.

“I don’t forgive him. At least, not that easily. But, I think I understand? Like I can see his side of things.”

There was a pause then, and I didn’t know if it was down to the fact that I’d only just woken up but I felt so disoriented by their entire conversation, reeling over just who they were talking about.

“How did you leave things?” Ross asked him, and I heard Matty sigh.

“Told him I needed to wrap my head ‘round it.”

Ross hummed just as I rubbed at my bleary eyes, forehead pinched between my brows. 

“And, what about her?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is he ever gonna let her back in? Tell her all this shit?” Ross stressed his second question but was met with a resounding silence, the type Matty only gave when he was lost in his own head.

“I really don’t know.”

For some stupid reason, I felt my heart drop.

—

Matty was perched by the kitchen’s island, nursing a cup of tea, when I found him the next morning. He lifted his head when he heard my approach and we shared a tiny smile.

“Mornin’. How’d you sleep?” He asked me as I moved towards the fridge, grabbing the milk I often favoured before I trailed my way over to where his fancy kettle resided. 

“Alright, just wondering how I made it up all those stairs last night.” I said in return. The whole house felt quiet, only the tweeting sound of the neighbouring sparrows could be heard before I set the kettle to boil.

“Ross.” Matty answered with a huffed chuckle, he pushed the tin of teabags across the counter when he saw me search for it.

I hummed, that made the most sense. “Dunno how I didn’t feel that.”

“Probably all those pain killers, darling. Actually, you fancy sharing a few? My heads banging.”

I snorted softly, chucking him the pack of paracetamol he typically kept in a cabinet nearby when I went to retrieve a teaspoon. “Stick to those. You’ll thank me for it when you can still shit normally.”

Matty grimaced, but popped two from its plastic packaging. “Ever heard of oversharing?”

With a lazy shrug, I disposed of the teabag and slotted the milk carton back into the fridge before I took a seat beside him. The two of us just gazed out of the window whilst we sipped sporadically.

“So then, how was your big night back out on the town?” I asked him, eyes focused on the blue skies that had casted overhead, mind stuck on the conversation that I might’ve dreamt up last night.

He gave a noncommittal sound in reply and so I raised a brow at him from over the rim of my steaming mug.

“That bad?”

“Unexpected would be the better term.”

I hummed again, taking a small sip. “How so?”

Matty worked his jaw and avoided my eye by staring into his muddy brew. I nudged his side lightly.

“Come on, can’t tease me with a good story and not spill.”

His lips quirked a tad and so I kicked up my feet to cross my legs beneath me as I turned to settle in and listen. Knowing he’d soon tell. 

“Just,” Matty’s brown eyes flittered over towards me briefly before they skittered away again, I narrowed my own. “A lot happened,” He added vaguely, “Didn’t end up doing much.”

“Oh, leave off. The great Healy makes his way back out onto the scene and leaves without a sexscapade to tell or a near brawl?”

I was met with the wrinkled face of a disturbed looking Matty. “Sexscapade?”

I couldn’t help my laughter.

“Come on, dish. I just know something went down.” I pestered him, nudging his elbow with my knuckle and retreating before he could swat me away.

Matty rolled his eyes at the motion, but I watched his chest rise from beneath the oversized hoodie he’d thrown on as he drew in a large breath. 

He was definitely withholding information, you could see it in the way his fingers tapped rhythmically against the side of his mug and I looked up just in time to catch him searching my face. 

For a brief moment I felt a little insecure, wondering what he saw. If it was still the same girl he’d known since we were little kids out on our bikes, or the outrageously fit friend he’d never had a chance with during the early stages of our twenties- or maybe even the person I’d been both before and after the accident.

I’d changed an awful lot.

“You’re worrying me, Matty. What is it?” I questioned instead of voicing any of that, a tad bit desperate to get him to focus on anything else. “Did something actually happen?”

Matty shook his head at my concern then paused, eyes skittering around the place again before he shrugged. “Hann brought George along, didn’t he.”

Ah.

A deafening quiet followed that admission as I took it in and digested it.

I swallowed thickly and then nodded at him, “Right. Thought you’d seen him though, like in the studio and that… Shouldn’t’ve felt too weird, no?”

Matty chewed on his bottom lip. “Met up at this pub, meant to be the two of us. Just, didn’t expect Hann to drag him along too. Studio time’s been… strained, so I figured I could let loose a bit. But then… yeah, he showed his face and the whole night went tits up.”

I nodded. I hadn’t heard much about the band rehearsals to be honest, just that things were progressing slowly, but to hear that they’d been difficult because of where George and I now stood, was a tough pill to swallow.

“So what, you two argued then?”

He shrugged at me again, spinning his half-empty mug about the countertop which must’ve been lukewarm at best by now.

“I was fuming. Even told Hann so. But, I stuck around… he wanted me to hear him out.”

I frowned at that. “Hear him out?”

Matty licked at the corner of his mouth, and I saw the visible bags which sat beneath his tired eyes. I silently questioned whether he’d even slept since getting in. 

“He wanted to talk, alright? Wanted me to hear his side of things, to hash things out so that we could get this album finished.”

I scoffed, almost angry now. “Fuck him! What about me? I spent a whole year trying to work out what happened with us! I almost died trying to find out what the fuck was up with him!”

Matty winced at that.

“But no, any body fucking else and he’ll let you know willingly! Are you actually being for fucking real?”

I doubt Matty even had an actual answer to give me then but I didn’t give him the chance to take another breath. Too fired up, hurt by the mere idea of George telling anyone but me anything. 

I pushed up out of the barstool I’d taken seat on and fought back the sudden aching in my throat. “Me! The only person he should be fucking telling anything at all is me, Matty!”

“I know-” 

I cut him off again, pacing back and forth around the island now. “I mean, what the fuck? Is he being serious? Oh, let me just tell Matty about all this sad shit I’ve been going through… about how much of a twat I’ve been this last year, and how sorry I am for being a massive knob-head… maybe then he’ll feel bad enough for me that we can finally finish off this shitty album we’ve been working on!”

Matty made a face, either at my bad impersonation of the bellend he’d dubbed his drummer, or for calling the current album he was working on shit. I didn’t care.

“Look I know you’re ticked off but-”

“But nothing, Matty. What did he even tell you? ‘Cause I’d honestly love to know. Seeing as it almost cost me my life and fucked me for the rest of it.”

Matty looked torn. Small almost, as I stared him down. A striking contrast to his typical outlandish demeanour. So striking in fact, it stopped me short.

“You know what? I don’t even care. I can’t do this.” I said defeatedly, dumping what little remained of my tea into the sink and doing a complete 180.

“Where’re you going?” I heard Matty call out after me, but I didn’t bother to offer him a reply as I stormed my way down the hallway. I pulled on the nearest pair of trainers I had to the front door, as well as the massive parka Matty had slung over the bar of the banister, and threw open the front door. He chased after me. “Y/n, what the fuck?”

“I’m going out.”

“I can fucking well see that!” Matty shouted from behind me, fumbling with his heavy boots by the stairs as I made my way down the paved drive. “At least wait for me, yeah?”

“I’m going out alone, Matty.” I reiterated tonelessly, buzzing the front gate a couple times for it to open.

“Y/n! Don’t be a prat, just wait up and we can go together. Yeah?”

I slammed the large gate shut behind me and caught sight of him hastily patting down his pockets, more than likely looking for his house keys.

“Matty,” I sighed, more numb than angry now, “Please, just…”

He stopped short on the front step, face frantic with a single boot on his foot and one arm slung in the wrong end of a padded puffer jacket. 

“Please.” I repeated, voice hoarse and strained by the many emotions I felt. 

His expression seemed to fall slack then and he nodded to me mutely. The length of driveway stood between us felt like an ocean in that next moment, but it also allowed me to finally breathe without the suffocating guilt that seemed to drown me wherever I went.

I took one step back, and then two. Then I was walking away from the confines of Matty’s house, the same place that had done nothing but welcome me, feeling freer than I had done in weeks. Months even.

Thoughts of betrayal and trust, anger and hurt, then humiliation, all of it just swimming in my veins. All of it swarming beneath the surface, buzzing under my skin. 

I walked for a while. Long enough for my ribs to ache and my lungs to burn.

But I didn’t dare turn back, not yet.

My mind was finally empty. The nippy air that kissed my skin wrapped itself around me like a layer of armour, shielding me from what little else could rip me apart. And I revelled in that. 

I only stopped when I wandered upon a familiar street and peered down it towards an even more familiar shop sign. Almost on autopilot my feet made their way towards it, trailing past cracks in the pavement and the many weeds which crawled out by the curb, before they shuffled over the threshold.

“Y/n, love? Is that you?”

—

I sat in a similar position to the one I’d been in earlier in Matty’s kitchen, only now I was propped up against a register with a soothing cup of camomile in hand. 

Delia was stood beside me, chopping away at flower stems, humming an old tune. She’d been overjoyed to see me, only having stopped in to visit me a handful of times since the accident.

She’d ushered me about the shop, showing me what was new whilst simultaneously scolding me for having turned up out of the blue when I should’ve been resting. But she made me feel at home all the same, almost like nothing was awry, like nothing had changed. 

But it had. I knew it. And she knew it too. 

I felt it in the twinge my ribs gave every time I breathed, and she saw it in the gruesome tell of my sad smile. 

“Can you still love someone who’s really hurt you?” I asked her after a prolonged pause, taking up the silence that had since settled between us. 

Delia lulled momentarily before she begun snipping again. 

“Love isn’t something we can control, sweetheart. It comes, and it goes. It’s a strange thing but it’s what keeps us alive, isn’t it? If it didn’t hurt, dear, then it wasn’t real.”

I thought on it, staring blankly ahead.

“So, we just forgive them then? Forget that they hurt us?”

“No, not always. Sometimes the people we love… they hurt too. Only they hide all that hurt behind closed doors. Behind a mask even. But just because they hurt, it doesn’t excuse their actions. Only we get to decide who we let into our lives, who we forgive, who we forget…”

I lingered on that statement for a second, but then she spoke up again. 

“Is this about that boy?”

I hummed to voice my confusion and looked over at her with a quirked brow. 

“That boy of yours. Tall, quiet. George I think he said his name was.” 

My wide eyes stayed trained on her, even whilst she continued to arrange her bouquet. If Delia knew the weight her words had on me she didn’t let it show. 

“He came in often, kept me company when you were in the hospital. Didn’t say much, just worked. Trimmed and watered, I even taught him to wrap. Was quite the natural, actually. But I only let him in after I remembered he’d visited with your Matty, and that one other fella with the beard, the night everything happened.”

She looked at me then. Must’ve seen the tears welling in my eyes because she took my hand, squeezed it tight.

“We’re all human, love. We all hurt, and we all make mistakes. We love. We lose. But, it is ultimately up to us on who we allow in and out of our lives. Who we give second and third chances to. Everyone has their reasons, their own demons. Even those closest to us. But it’s what they do afterwards that counts. How they make it up.”

I didn’t offer her a reply, too lost in my own multitude of thoughts, but continued to sort through the white and red tulips she had laid out. We stayed like that for a while until the bell over the shopfront jingled and I glanced up to find a familiar head of curls stood there.

Delia shot me a knowing smile when I turned towards her in surprise, she simply jilted her head over at the door like she’d been expecting him. “You should be getting home. Rest up and think on what we spoke about, yes?”

I nodded thoughtlessly and allowed her to rope me into a warm hug, wrapping an arm around her middle when I found the strength. We parted ways and there Matty was, patiently waiting for me even after the way I’d left him. 

I wanted to resent him a little for that, for always being there, for never allowing me to push him away. But I couldn’t. Not when he took my hand in his. 

He said something to Delia as we left and let the door rattle behind us before he led me up the hilly street. It was quiet out, the lunch time rush had been and gone and it was nearing closer to the time most schools let out. I wondered how long we had until he was spotted.

We didn’t speak as we made our way back, his hand in mine, his eyes glancing over towards me every few steps even when I tried to conceal the dampness that clung to the tops of my cheeks.

I’d never been much of a crier. Or at least I’d like to claim as much, but this last year… these last couple of months had been…

I don’t reckon there was a word for it.

I just felt so defeated. Lost.

All I wanted was answers. 

All I needed was to be somebody else.

Part twenty>

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 30, 1973

He’d gotten in late, and had sort of a queasy feeling as his feet touched down in the United States again. It didn’t fill him with some patriotic relief, some lust for home, as much as it made his fucking skin crawl. But he’d splashed water on his face in the airport bathroom, and lingered in the terminal long enough for a shitty vending machine coffee, and by the time he’s in the back of a cab twenty minutes later it’s at least settled down to a quiet vibration. He doesn’t chat with the driver, like he might have a month ago, just asks for a motel, and picks at his cuticles and stares out the window for the whole ride.

Does jetlag count when you’re this fucked up? It probably doesn’t apply. Time zones haven’t mattered in weeks, really. His body is still in that shitty room with Louis. The exhaustion is bone deep, though. He passes out the moment he flops onto the hotel bed.

The housekeeper knocking on the door wakes him in the morning. Slept like shit. He wakes enough to tell her he’s fine, and then lies there, staring at nothing. He considers turning on the TV, and stares at the glossy black screen, and it’s like a window to the world he’s left behind. There’s news inside, and kids shows, and music, and things to learn about. It doesn’t feel like his world anymore, though.

His head lolls to the side, and he stares at the telephone. 

Somewhere near the Cincinnati airport, which means he’s in the same time zone as his parents again. It’s been a long time.

It’s early still, which gives him the excuse not to call. He gets out of bed long enough to pull the curtains closed, and then goes back to sleep.

~~

So his stomach rumbles, waking him, telling him it’s lunch time. One eye cracked open sees the clock on the nightstand. A little past ten. 

For the first time in weeks, he knows what day it is, and it centers him. Makes everything feel a little more real. His cab driver had made a comment about it last night, filling the silence with small talk until he realized Daniel wouldn’t entertain him. Said something about all the kids out on Saturday nights.

Ten on a Sunday morning. He considers turning the TV on. Johnny Quest should be on, if that hasn’t changed in his absence. 

His dad will be off. Mom probably putzing around to catch up on some project. He looks at the phone again, considers calling them. Tries to imagine how the conversation would go, and whether or not anyone has noticed him missing.

The two outcomes echo on either side of his head.

His mom asking if he’s coming for Thanksgiving, like it’s any other day, like Daniel is still just being flaky. Or maybe she’s crying in relief, saying things like thank god you’re okay, I was worried sick.

And his father, too. Pissed off and disappointed as always, or covering his emotions with anger, demanding to know where Daniel is.

He curls on his side, his back to the phone. Closes his eyes again. His stomach hurts, but the darkness feels comfortable.

~~

An hour and a half later and he’s dragging himself to a greasy diner down the block. Together enough to get it done, and he doesn’t panic when he talks to people, but orders it to go. He smokes a cigarette and bounces his leg at a booth near the kitchen door while he waits, and thinks he should plan the next few days better. Maybe the next few weeks. Unsure how long this will last before he’s either dead or Armand gets bored. Maybe those two things are one and the same. 

They’re listening to King Crimson in the kitchen, and bits of it wisp out every time the door swings open. It makes Daniel smile, just a little, before he catches himself. That first album had really blown him the fuck away and he’d gotten a little obnoxious about it. In his past life he thinks he’d have the energy to intrude into these guys’ space and start asking questions about it, find out who put it on. Find someone to interview.  

He’d listened to it so much in his senior year of high school. His dad called it heroin music, and asked him to keep the volume down. His mom walked in on him getting high to it one night, because it was too cold outside and he didn’t feel like sneaking around. 

She’d had that look on her face. Conflicted about it, but didn’t want to make it a big deal, because his dad would’ve turned it into a whole thing. It ruined his buzz, and he apologized, but he continued to sneak smokes in his room for the rest of the year until he moved out. For a while he thought he’d gotten better at it, but maybe his mom just got too exhausted to say anything.

The bass melody flows through the kitchen door as someone steps out with a paper bag, cocking an eyebrow and handing it over. There’s barely time to even mumble a thank you before they’ve retreated back, and the music is swallowed again as the door swings closed. Daniel sits for a moment, letting it circle him, feeling the heat through the bag in his lap. He looks from one end of the diner to the other, counting the people inside, orienting himself with the exits, even though the sun is still up. 

There’s a payphone in the back, near the bathroom, and the urge to call almost overtakes him. Like he should just do it now, get it over with before he changes his mind again. Not sure what he even wants to say, except to apologize. He won’t be coming home again, they’re past that. But maybe…

Anxiety ripples through his insides, and he feels in his pocket to see if he has enough change. If he has to ask a cashier first he’ll lose his nerve. How much is the long distance charge, anyway? He might lose his nerve if he has to talk to the operator first. 

It feels like enough coins in his pocket. They click together, between his fingers, and his heart skips as he decides to do it. And the paper bag crinkles in his fist as he stands, and his mouth is dry and he’s not sure why he’s doing this but—

Someone slips past him, breezily, someone else with a call to make. His ears ring as he watches, as they lift the receiver to their ear, as they drop a coin inside. He sees the way their mouth quirks into a grin as they say hello. 

Not here. 

Don’t do this here.

He turns away. He bumps into someone on the way out. The sun hurts his eyes and he can’t catch his breath, and it takes a moment to remember which way the hotel is. 

A sob crawls through his ribs, and he stands there on the sidewalk, rubbing his chest until it goes away. He chews the inside of his cheek and his appetite is gone, and his stomach hurts but he can’t tell what’s hunger anymore. 

~~

The food is kinda soggy and cold by the time he decides eat. It feels fine, though, as he lays it out on the little table in the hotel. Not sure why he thinks he’s a person who’s ever going to enjoy food again, anyway, so he shouldn’t be picky. It’s just nourishment.

He’d dragged the phone over to the table, too. Just set it there, the cord swaying gently where it dangles back to the nightstand. He picks at his food in little bites, staring at the ugly view of the Ohio River outside. 

And he’d dug the number of the publisher out of his bag. The one he’d sent the manuscript to. It’s laid out flat on the table, and he thinks he’ll call them first. But this nagging voice keeps begging him to call his mother.

For what?

He remembers the day the military car drove up to Ray’s house. Daniel had known, immediately, when he saw the uniforms walking up to the door. And he’d just stared for a while, after they’d gone inside, and he’d felt so numb that he thought Well, this isn’t so bad, I guess.

He’d shut his blinds. Laid down on his bed. Listened to King Crimson a little bit too loud. The reality rolled over, and over, a tiny ball in his head, and he could picture himself cradling it in his hands, examining it, checking for sore spots. 

Never lost a best friend before. Not sure how it’s supposed to feel. But it wasn’t so bad. For that first little while it felt survivable. 

The phone rang downstairs, a couple hours later. He couldn’t make out any of the words from up in his room, just the near-hysterical pitch of his mom’s voice. He listened to her come upstairs, and go into the bathroom, heard the water running for a long time before the quiet knock on his bedroom door. And he saw the hurt in her face, the puffiness in her eyes that she’d tried to wash off. 

All the pain came later. And their moms hadn’t handled it well. Neither of them.

“Can you imagine…” his mom said, staring out the car window after the funeral. In the cemetery still, waiting for the cars ahead of them to pull out. Daniel looked up the hill, to the grave. So many fucking flowers.

Nothing in the casket, of course. They’d still buried one, and Daniel wasn’t sure who it was supposed to help.

“Not knowing where your baby is,” she said, and her voice cracked, and she hid her face behind a handkerchief. Her fingers wiggled as she tried to calm down, and then she turned to look at Daniel in the back seat, with her glassy red eyes. “I’m so sorry, Danny.”

It’s his old life, and he knows he can ever go back. And maybe his parents will bury an empty casket one day, filled with mementos that remind them of him. Would anyone else even throw in? Alice, he supposes, and her parents. Maybe Ray’s family. He doesn’t think he left any other close friends behind. Everything always felt so temporary. Really, looking back, he knows he never quite fit. 

Will people remember me?  Will people from my high school remember their classmate that disappeared when they were twenty and supposed to be enjoying college? Is it one of those spooky local tragedies?

If I tell my mom I’m okay, is that a lie?

He rubs his eyes. 

They’ll never get my body back. 

He pushes the food to the side, and his heart races, and he thinks he can do it. Reaching for the phone before he can lose his nerve. 

And he doesn’t want anything from them. He won’t ask for help, or put them in Armand’s path. And he doesn’t need to come home. And he doesn’t need their money. And it’s not exactly a goodbye, but…

A tiny part in him just wants to hear her voice, and he can’t admit until he starts dialing. He squeezes around the phone, only able to hear his own heartbeat in his ears, and leans his elbow on the table. Rocks in his seat and closes his eyes. The sound of the phone ringing, a moment later, makes him want to throw up.

Just once, just this last time. Hear her voice, let her know he’s okay, she might not hear from him for a while, no no it’s fine I just didn’t want you to worry, I’ll be fine—

And don’t follow me. Don’t look for me. I’ve become something else, and I don’t want to drag you down with me. He can’t tell her that, though. Just, no. Don’t worry. I’m okay. I’m okay.

Heart in his throat, and he draws his hand away from the phone, covers his eyes like it will make it easier, plunging himself into darkness. Breath shaky through his nose.

And then the click.

The half-second of background noise. The TV blaring the evening news. The gravely half-cough of a smoker clearing his throat.

“Hello?” his father asks.

Daniel’s teeth grind. The crackle of nervous energy snakes through his whole body—the pinch at his kidneys, and up through his jaw, and his fingers are numb. He even feels it in his nipples, at the roots of his hair. It tweaks through his shoulder socket.

“Hello?” his father asks again. Sharper now, because that’s how he is. Impatient. 

He remembers his dad being softer, back when he was a kid. Before Daniel had fucked up too bad. Because you grow up, and your dad is less colossal. One day you realize that he’s just some fucking guy, that he isn’t special. But…

There’s a rattling breath, like he’s going to say something, launch into a lecture or say something nasty, demand an answer, and tell you to stop fucking around, and call you a disappointment, and—

Daniel’s jaw aches all the way up to his temples. His face feels hot. Bile rising.

He hangs up the phone. 

[previous day] | [read on AO3]