#eventual lovers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

syms-things-5 · 2 years

Text

TO THE WIRE

A Chris Evans / Call of Duty AU Fic

My Masterlist can be found HERE, where this will be added.

Part One: It’s All In The Detail

Part Two: Where There’s smoke...

Note: Not sure where I’m going with this but I’ve been a fan of his C.O.D. look since I first saw it. Hopefully, this looks promising but rather than an ongoing series, I see it more as a series of one- or two-shots. Part One is below and Part Two will follow next Sunday following my final spot of editing.

Theme: Enemies to friends to (eventual) lovers. Chris has an ego and believes his own hype, and Martha needs to get a life for herself.

Warnings: Strong language

Word Count: 5.1k

Part One: It’s All In The Detail

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” came Martha’s exasperated response, hands gripped tightly onto her hips as she did her very best to attempt a more aggressive stance than she was altogether comfortable with. “Months of hard work and now it’s done, just like that?”

She wasn’t sure why she was even questioning it. She could believe it – and expect it – as it had been the case for her on more than one occasion over the last 12 months and she was getting tired of it. She was getting tired of being side-lined.

“I’m sorry. The decision has been made and it’s for your own safety.”

“But what could have possibly changed in the last twenty-four hours?”

It was a valid question and for a brief moment she felt a surge of confidence in her frustration.

Tanner, the shortish, greying intellectual currently sat behind the broad desk that separated them like a protective barrier, appeared resolute in his decision. Even if he had doubts, he wouldn’t let them show. His posture remained relaxed as he leaned back in his leather recliner having barely flinched or moved in the time since she had barged into his office, disappointment etched across her fine features, staring him down like he had just insulted her grandmother. Instead, he regarded her respectfully and with some semblance of understanding of her disappointment at being frozen out yet again from a mission she had worked very hard on. It made her feel a little guilty at her verbal outburst although he had probably heard much, much worse in his forty-plus years with the CIA. He himself had told her as much.

She wasn’t sure if this apparent show of empathy was a good or a bad thing. It certainly didn’t serve to make her feel any better. Deep down, she knew Tanner knew what he was doing. He always gave considered thought to the decisions he made; he wouldn’t be where he was now if he hadn’t. Even deeper down, she knew she wasn’t going to succeed in changing his mind.

“You know as well as I do that intel can change with no notice.” He explained calmly in his soft, Texan drawl. “It’s never ideal to change the format of a mission at any stage of the play but we do what we have to do with what we are given. The team has reason to believe that Haltzar is shifting gear and making a move to exit this Friday night. If we don’t get him then, our chances at ever bringing in Haltzar disappear in the dark, and his little black book goes with him.”

She could appreciate the nuances that went into a plan like this. In just eighteen months, Martha had gone from being a well-liked but rather inconsequential (her words) doctor at Newman & Grey Hospital, working all the shifts she could manage to avoid being home alone with only her thoughts for company, to a valued member of a CIA ‘Special Ops’ Unit that specialised in dealing with situations far beyond the capabilities of ordinary law enforcement. Or so she thought she was.

She listened to Tanner letting her down gently like she was being told she couldn’t have the bike she wanted for Christmas. She also couldn’t shake the feeling this was yet another attempt by Chris Evans to phase her out. She realised she appeared like she was throwing a tantrum because she couldn’t get her own way. It was embarrassing and it made her feel like shit. It wasn’t what she was aiming for when she woke up earlier that morning.

“Listen, Martha, this is in no way a reflection of your work but some people have expressed concern that your being there would draw unwanted attention-”

“-Some people? You mean Chris-”

“-Especially if a member of Haltzar’s crew recognises you from their own intel.” Tanner finished his argument, choosing to ignore hers. “We can’t forget they have been here a long time. They will have scoped the place out for themselves, several times, and if they see you at the hospital, the whole game is up and we’ll have lost nearly eighteen months of work for nothing. I’d like to see you try to explain that to Homeland Security.”

Martha paused in her tracks and tried to avoid Tanner’s careful, sympathetic gaze. Shaking her head in defeat, she loosened her hands from her hips and let them fall limply to her side as she took on board Tanner’s reasoning. Just as she was about to express an apology for her blatant lapse of professionalism in the face of a man who could probably buy and sell what was left of her own family, a lowly whistle came from somewhere close behind her.

Stood still in the corner of Tanner’s office, one boot resting on the panelled wall as though he gave not one care for the probable cost of having his dusty Size 12s scratch the paint off, Chris murmured his disapproval of Martha. She couldn’t quite bring herself to acknowledge his presence, though, preferring to leave him brooding quietly as she attempted to make her way out of the office unscathed.

Even now, after he had sullenly made himself known, she preferred not having to deal with the sight of his smug face at this time of the morning. She could sense him, though. You could always sense when Evans was nearby so it was a complete and utter joke that Tanner was now claiming that she might be the one who would draw attention.

“Well, I would probably call into question the reasons why some people might see me being there as a problem.” She stated matter-of-factly, the words coming out of her mouth before she had the time to edit them. Or stop them altogether as she was quickly wishing she could.

“I’m right here, McLachlan.” Came his bristly tone in response, clearly having had enough of her obstinance.

“Yes, I know, Chris. It’s very hard to miss you.” She snapped, finally conceding to him. All she got in return was a dismissive glare. It only served to wind her up even more.

“Then ask me directly.”

She looked at him again but chose to bite her tongue, not wanting to rise to his bait.

“Why are you pushing for this?” Chris pressed. “You know we make the calls and the call is that your efforts are no longer required. We have everything in place, you’ll just take up space, space that we don’t have. Congratulations, McLachlan, you have the night off. Go out and celebrate.”

Martha could feel herself stiffen from his petulance. It was an all-too-familiar feeling that she was growing tired of.

“Yes, you’ve made that more than clear.” She retorted.

She let out the last of her breath that she’d been holding and gathered herself before she turned back to face Tanner. She struggled to meet his eye for a brief second but no amount of re-focussing herself could take away from the disappointment she was feeling inside.

“I guess there’s nothing left I can say.” She finally acquiesced and nodded once to Tanner, who reciprocated with what she thought was a small hint of regret. She didn’t exactly mean it but nevertheless it seemed like the professional thing to do.

She caught Chris’ eye once again before she fully departed the room but neither was willing to give the other the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

“You could go easier on her. We need someone like her in the team. She’s very good at her job.” Tanner said when he was confident that she was no longer within earshot.

“So are a lot of people but it doesn’t mean they all get to be invited along for the ride.”

“She’s helped this team a lot over the past couple of years.” Said Tanner, pointedly ignoring Chris’ last words.

“Then we’ll have a whip-round and sign a card.” Chris shrugged. He dropped his foot from the wall and casually made the few steps to where he stood in front of Tanner’s desk.

“That’s very grateful of you, Christopher. Remind me, who removed the bullet from your shoulder in Detroit?”

Chris paused at Tanner’s annoying ability for recall. How was he expected to respond to that?

“That’s what she’s paid to do.” Chris conceded. “But we can’t pretend that she has even half the training my guys have. By anyone’s standards, this is a quiet, safe mission. You said so yourself. No one is going to get injured, so…she’s surplus to requirements. End of discussion.”

“And what about next time? What about when you or one of your boys needs medical assistance and you’re hiding out in some cave in Iran? You think Dave or Benji will be able to cope?”

“Benji served two tours in Afghanistan. I think he can deal with a bandage.” Chris attempted to shrug Tanner off once more.

“Or what about when one of your guys trips a wire and threatens to set off a landmine?”

Chris couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You think she’s a bomb disposal expert all of a sudden?”

“No, she isn’t, but she could be.” Tanner posed, choosing to ignore the scoff that just emanated from Chris’ direction. “This is my point, Chris. There are very few people left in this country that can do what you and this team does, I get that, but it would be a wise and valuable idea to at least consider the future. Consider protecting this team’s legacy, your legacy, and pay attention to the possibilities of who is available and who can be trained that could handle these same pressures.”

Chris’ hands found their way to his hips and Tanner knew he’d likely pushed his luck. Still, he said what needed to be said. It was common knowledge around these parts that Chris had an ego that needed to be kept in check, and Tanner seemed to be the only person to do it.

“I don’t doubt that an ER is a tough environment but let’s not pretend a medical degree is in any way a viable substitute for the nerve and intuition this team has.”

“She’s a doctor, Chris. I think nerve and intuition are parts of her job specification.”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it-”

“-We can’t afford to lose her, Chris,” Tanner interrupts “Or Carl for that matter, so I’d strongly advise you to play nicely with them both from here on out.”

Tanner leaned forward in his recliner and pulled his glasses down from the top of his head. Chris watched as he took the fountain pen from its holder and opened the leather-bound file that had been sat on his desk all morning, awaiting his attention.

It was as clear an indication as possible that their conversation was now over but Chris struggled to accept not having the last word. Regardless, he unclenched his jaw and turned to vacate his office, leaving Tanner to glance at the back of his protégé’s head before getting back to work.

Chris waited for the heavy-set door to shut behind him completely before he placed his hands back on his hips and breathed in deeply to steady his nerve. He glanced to either side of him to make sure Claire wasn’t in earshot before he muttered a ‘fuck’ under his breath.

Chris was sure the only reason Tanner kept Claire around was because she had the ears of a bat and could pick up on people’s frustrations from a mile away. It certainly wasn’t for her administrative skills, that was for sure. At the age of 52, she’d all but given up on learning how to use email instead favouring the Victorian-era fax machine they were for forbidden from upgrading.

He didn’t like having his work called into question, and he certainly didn’t like it coming from a junior. Martha wasn’t even a fully-fledged member of the team; she was unofficial and part-time at best and he found himself growing increasingly aggravated by her presence. He wasn’t sure why Tanner expected him to just put up with her. It wasn’t like she offered anything he couldn’t get from someone else. She was a hassle he didn’t need at this time of his life.

As he felt his pulse beat in his ears, he took a few more calming breaths and tried as hard as he could to unclench his jaw again. Somewhere down the corridor to his left, he heard doors shut and he felt his irritation kick in.

“You really need to knock this off, McLachlan.” He announced as he burst into the changing room.

“Excuse me?” Martha turned from where she was perched on the edge of the bench, surprised to see him stood in front of her once again. She was just 5 minutes from leaving the building and getting back to the relative sanctity of the hospital so it was totally unfair that she had to speak to him again.

“This interruption you’ve got going on all the damn time. It’s not helpful. You’re just making things more difficult than they need to be.” He took another step towards her, almost concealing her in his shadow. “I don’t appreciate it.”

Martha wasn’t sure if she had missed a conversation in the few minutes since she had left Tanner’s office. She had walked away in full understanding that it was to be business-as-usual and she wouldn’t be needed until the next time. She didn’t much like it but she accepted it. She thought she’d made that part obvious at least.

“Look, I was merely asking why I was no longer being considered for the mission and I think it was a valid question. I wasn’t trying to be difficult, or-”

“That’s the thing, McLachlan. You don’t try to be anything. You just are. I swear you exist just to piss me off.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” She physically recoiled at his tone. “It wasn’t like I was doing this on purpose.”

She looked away from him and back down to her laced-up plimsolls.

“Sometimes, I think you just want to be annoyed about something. If anyone needs a night off, it’s you.”

“Be careful who you’re talking to, McLachlan.”

“Or what?” She flinched, surprised by her own candour. Yet again, she spoke faster than her brain could catch up with.

Martha watched as he was stopped in his tracks. She felt her shoulders shift, trying to drain herself of this interaction with him. At times, it was an effort to merely exist in the same room as him.

He wasn’t expecting the retort and he certainly wasn’t expecting her to question his authority in this manner.

“It’s not my choice having you here, McLachlan, but it certainly will be having you removed if I have anything to do with it.” He was speaking far quieter this time, a gentle intimidation that she assumed was normally reserved for those he was questioning. Or worse. “Quit crying when you don’t get your own way.”

“I wasn’t crying. Sir.” She spoke again in equally hushed tones.

She swore to whoever was up there that she wasn’t deliberately trying to provoke him, but it seemed to be the only language he understood.

After another silent moment passed, he huffed out something that resembled amusement. “Close enough.”

She kept her feet rooted to the spot and refused to look away. Whether it was some vain attempt at essaying confidence, or she just genuinely couldn’t move, she didn’t know.

“This isn’t personal.” He rationalised. “This is serious stuff. I can’t afford to babysit you.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being patronising on purpose or if it just comes naturally to you.”

“Fuck around and find out.”

“Oh, real mature.” She rolled her eyes at him. She got up from her seat and turned to grab her hoodie hanging on the hook inside her locker.

Carl chose that moment to make his appearance from behind the row of lockers. He coughed a fake cough that was almost comical in its execution, briefly unnerving Chris. Carl wasn’t exactly aiming towards Chris either, rather just making his presence known in case Martha had forgotten about him.

Chris looked quickly between Martha and Carl, unaware he had been there. He hid the surprise from his face quite well, keeping his features as straight as possible. Had she known he was there this entire time? What was her game?

“Get your stuff and go home.” He instructed, standing taller than before, returning his gaze back to her. “I’ll deal with you another time.”

He turned on his heels and strode out of the locker room in such few steps, it was almost impressive. To Carl, anyway. Carl was easily impressed at the best of times but working for someone who had received a medal from the President of the United States nearly tipped him over the edge.

Martha slammed the door of her locker with some force, startling Carl in the process.

“Everything OK?” he asked cautiously when the room fell silent again. He knew the answer.

“Not exactly.” Was all she could give back to him.

He thought better of pushing her again, He watched as she moved to stand in front of the mirror that took up almost one whole side of their small changing room. It was a crowded room on account of various equipment cupboards that had been moved in months earlier because, apparently, there was no room left anywhere in the on-site training facility. Martha was convinced it was yet another attempt by Evans of pushing them aside, though, and you couldn’t tell her otherwise.

She stared at herself in contemplation. “I need to go back to the office before I leave, OK?”

“Um, yeh, sure.” Came Carl’s hesitant reply. “Shall I just meet you by the car, then?” But she had already left.

He wasn’t sure what the purpose of her returning to the office was and he dearly hoped she wasn’t going to rile Evans up any more than he already was.

Layer upon layer of coloured and black-and-white photographs stared back at her. She followed the direction of the white ink that lined them all up, connecting the dots both physically and metaphorically. Prints of the town grid and an image featuring the schematics of the local Newman and Grey Hospital were kept separate on one side. In the centre of it all, was Haltzar.

By anyone’s basic understanding, Alek Haltzar was a dangerous man. He was exceptionally tall, standing at over 6ft 5in, and was just shy of 50 years old. When Haltzar wasn’t indulging in Arms trafficking and attempting to corrupt local politicians in neighbouring countries, he enjoyed playing chess competitively and was a single father to three children. It was this latter role that he took more seriously than that which brought him his billion-dollar fortune.

The children’s mother had died in a freak boating accident when their youngest son had turned just four years’ old. She had been the love of Haltzar’s life and her death had devastated both him and the boys. Ever since, he had vowed to dedicate his life and his many, many millions to charity to honour her memory. It was a fast about-turn that stood ill at ease with his previous profession.

He was also gravely ill.

Some four years before today, he had discovered he had been living with a rare form of cancer following what should have been a routine prostate exam. The best scientists and doctors he could find could provide no clue as to its course of treatment, and could not stop it from spreading further.

He went underground for a short while afterwards, trying his hand with any experimental drug and therapy he could find, but when nothing appeared to work, he did what any other person with the means to do so would do and relocated his family to the US. Washington DC to be exact.

DC had been home to the estimable Newman and Grey, a hospital devoted to advancing medical research and theory around some of the body’s most destructive diseases for nearly sixty years. Originally named after Sir Peter Newman, the hospital could now also claim itself as home to the Nobel Prize-winning mind of Professor Alan Grey, a man responsible for, among other things, his incredible work developing the technique that would later create the MRI machine, an epic scientific breakthrough in the late-Seventies that allowed the diagnosis of patients via non-invasive means.

So, leaving behind his work, his varied and dubious connections to some of the world’s most powerful people, and his entire life it seemed, Haltzar uprooted his family to Washington a little over two years ago. Whatever the likelihood, he moved in an attempt to access the experimental treatments Prof. Taylor had been studying and testing with some degree of success.

His sudden arrival in the US caused as close a thing to a “stir” as Martha reasoned was possible given his identity was genuinely unknown to almost everyone except those who worked inside the CIA. According to them, this move was very much a last-ditch attempt at saving his own life so his beloved children wouldn’t have to grow up without a parent. If he hadn’t been responsible for aiding and abetting several war criminals over the last twenty years, one could be forgiven for feeling just a little bit sorry for him.

Martha supposed she could understand to some degree his reasons for moving to the area. After all, she had done much the same thing as him, just minus the murders and the bribery.

After completing her MD in Boston, she wanted desperately to exist somewhere in Prof. Grey’s orbit if only on the periphery of him and his team. She had lived and breathed his theses and work during her studies, and had arrived at the hospital five years back after she took on a role as an Emergency Doctor in the hospital’s ER. It was a tough baptism of fire for want of a better phrase but Carl had befriended her and the pair of them soon formed an alliance which kept the ER moving at a pace that could hopefully cope with the volume of admissions.

“I’m sure they had their reasons.”

She could hear Carl’s voice in the back of her mind. He was a nice guy, Martha thought, but dear God he could be a push-over at times. Why did he suck up to Evans so much all the time? Tanner, she could understand, but Evans? The guy had an ego the size of the state. He was a jerk. Martha lost count of the people flinging themselves at his feet everywhere he went, Carl notwithstanding, and she could never work it out.

“I’m gonna level with you, Martha,” Carl had said after hearing Martha’s protests earlier that afternoon. “I’ve got zero interest in carrying a gun with me for the next week just in case a goddamn psychopath may or may not turn up to the hospital. That is way above my pay grade. This is why we pay our taxes, so that men like Evans can do the risky work for us.” He turned back to the computer screen in front of him. “And that suits me just fine.”

“But we’re the ones who’ve put this all together.” She argued back at him. “They would never have known about the drug trials if it wasn’t for us and Taylor.”

“Yeh, and the locations and the money and the hospital plans? That’s all them.” He reasoned. “Think of it like anything else we do. We take X-Rays, we take bloods, we make the diagnosis, then we pass the patient over to the right consultant who uses all of that information to make the person better. We still get the credit, we just don’t have to do all of the graft.”

Martha despaired as she stared up at the board. It was all pointless now anyway.

Haltzar had been living in the quiet but glossy suburb of Chesapeake Beach. It was one of the wealthiest areas in Maryland and was home to several retired businessmen who liked to keep one eye on the New York Stock Exchange whilst making their way around a golf course.

According to Tanner, Haltzar had been photographed several times visiting his oldest son who had enrolled at Notre Dame almost as soon as they had arrived in the area. He had been seen attending their sports matches, visiting a local library, even mowing the lawn outside his home. One photograph Martha had originally lingered on showed him in a car parked outside a Walmart.

He was quite literally hiding in plain sight.

But, as Tanner had supposed, that was easy to do when your Head of Security was also an ex-Black Ops member. Evans thought he had recognised him from his early days on combat duty but ultimately uncovered nothing they could use to get close to Haltzar from the inside.

Walmart was the one image she found herself fixating on over and over again at random times of the day. It was the thing she was thinking about now as she found herself sat behind the reception desk in the ER that Thursday evening.

The clock was ticking by slowly and the expected onslaught of patients never materialised. The team was grateful for the break but Martha hated sitting around doing nothing. Her admin was up to date as always, she’d triple-checked the stock cupboards, and had grown tired of watching the kettle boil for the fourth time having offered to make yet another round of tea for everyone.

It was a weird evening. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was just because it was a Thursday and Thursday seemed too early in the week for people to find a thrill in the weekend. Thursday proved a weird limbo for a lot of people in this town it would seem.

“You should bring a book, M.” Simone called out from the chair a few feet behind her. “I’m reading Catch-22 at the moment. It’s pretty damn good.”

“Didn’t you read that in high school?” Martha asked, snapped from her momentary daydream.

“Yeh but it was pretty dull back then. This time, I’m really appreciating the critique of authority more than before. I tell ya, it is 100% relatable.”

Martha could share in the joke knowing precisely what she was getting at. Simone was adept at the art of the passive-aggressive remark and was a welcome, contrasting energy to the usual politics that went on underneath this roof.

“Seriously, though,” Simone continued. “You wanna go take a nap or something? It’s gonna be hours before we finish here and I can handle things for a bit.”

Martha contemplated her kind offer. She figured she could be bored here or bored in a quiet room where she could mess about on her phone, maybe plan a holiday she knew she wouldn’t take. It didn’t really matter either way but she would at least feel a bit less guilty about it if she wasn’t fussing on her phone in plain sight of the few patients who had taken up space in a couple of bays.

Looking towards the few patients they had admitted that evening, she clocked them each lying quietly on their respective beds, calm and peaceful. Just what they liked to see. A couple of them had been hooked up to blood pressure machines that took intermittent readings and beeped out accordingly, and the other guy was sat up in his bay and reading a magazine upside down, the drugs perhaps causing him to feel a little drowsy. She wouldn’t hold it against him.

“Thanks. I won’t be too long.”

“Take as long as you need, chick.”

Simone turned back to the paperwork in front of her as Martha vacated the squared-in desk formation that created their excuse for a reception.

Taking the long, quiet walk down the corridors to reach the staff quarters took longer than usual. Her phone was clasped in her hand and she’d picked up a glass of water on the way. She held the doors open for Paul, the porter, as he transported some equipment to another ward a few floors up. He had been too polite to let her help him the rest of the way, despite her offer.

Finding herself at a loose end, she locked the door behind her and chose the single bed closest to the radiator. The heat would help lull her to sleep, she thought, and she could while away a couple of hours before she returns to the main ward to see what might await her. Was it wrong that she hoped something a little more dramatic might break up the monotony of the shift?

He was reading it upside down.

Wait.

On more than one occasion she had spotted him scanning the ER. She had thought he was just waiting for a relative to arrive or perhaps waiting for his SHO to return with some test results, but…he wasn’t confused. The drugs weren’t causing him to feel lethargic or muddled; they weren’t strong enough to do that.

Why had she negated to think that before now?

She held her fingers to the side of her forehead, hastily rolling back through her memories of the last couple of hours.

The three men had each arrived separately but only within about twenty minutes of each other. They all claimed various minor upsets that although were a little uncommon to be accidental, were nevertheless ailments the team had handled thousands of times before. After all, they weren’t there to question anyone; they were there to do their job and fix what was wrong with them.

Martha didn’t pretend to know the intricacies of the Agency’s work but she was still able to note their boots were in fact of the same make and all were clean and shiny, as though they had each just left the shop before they found themselves at Newman’s.

“Jerry?” She called out hurriedly as soon as she heard the other line click on.

“Oh hey Martha! What’s up?” Came the friendly, chirpy response from perhaps the only man in the Unit that maybe didn’t hate her guts.

“You guys need to get down here. Now.”

#call of duty fic #chris evans fic #fanfiction #evans fic #AU chris evans #To The Wire #chris evans x original female character #chris fic #enemies to friends #eventual lovers #basically he's an asshole #chris evans

55 notes · View notes

poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months

Text

Sorry for not having a Year of the Dragon MDZS artwork; Unfortunately, I can only picture Dragon LWJ in this particular flavour.

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #Dragon AU #MDZS AU #noodleji #(IT'S A REAL TAG!!! AAH!!! THROWING MY HAT TO THE LITTLE GUY LOVERS!)#Yes I watched Fruits Basket in my teen years and yes it left a significant impression on me.#'The Dragon Transforms' and its just into a small little guy.#Even more points if the human form is a Tall Guy.#Sadly this does not appear to be a common nor popular variation so I will sit on my little hill alone. (EDIT: I WAS WRONG)#Dragon LWJ probably would be some kind of river dragon. Lesser god of a small stream.#One that grows bigger with time but always has the reputation of being benevolent and calm to those who seek its clear waters.#Do not pollute these waters or your ass is going to be bit. 1000 tiny puncture marks.#I imagine that's probably how wwx first meets him (accidently pours booze into lwj's river) (gets bit - gets bit - gets bit-)#WWX eventually befriends him through stubbornly showing up every week to give him offerings.#Takes him into town in a little pot of water to show him how the people live. Maybe go to a festival.#When the day is done and he's back in his river and alone - LWJ finally feels a new emotion...it is longing and loneliness.

1K notes · View notes

sweetlyskz · 9 months

Text

Emerald Gem|| Chapter 1

Paring: OT7! x Fem!Reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn

unedited*

At dawn, the roosters began to crow. They were your personal alarm clock. By the afternoon, you would have the Vegetables plowed and all the pigs fed. Emerald garden, full of color, would be watered. After all the chores were done, you could spend time on your hobbies. Painting, writing, cooking.

You truly kept yourself busy. But it became boring at times, lonely.

Emerald manor, your beloved home, was built for a family. With a large living room, a generous dining room, and too many bedrooms, it could be overwhelming for you. You liked to think about how you could fill this space, getting married, having a family. But you quickly realized that those things don’t come easy. Tired of the loneliness, you thought about adopting a pet. Maybe a dog to help with the farm?

And one day while you're cleaning the chicken coop you spot a fox about to pounce on one of the chickens.

“Hey!” you exclaim. “Get out of here!”

The fox stopped in its tracks and peered over at you, giving an intimidating glare. Then you realized, that wasn’t a fox.

It’s a person.

“Wait!” you attempted to come closer, but with each step forward, the fox went two steps backward. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

The fox seemed dubious, cautiously stepping towards you. “F-food, please.” His voice was raspy, sore.

You immediately ran to get some food, coming back to the coop with some leftovers. Maybe this will suffice, you thought. You sat him down on the grass patch next to the chicken's den. You watched him devour the meal, as if he hadn’t eaten anything in weeks. Based on his appearance, he probably hadn’t. His fur coat was dirty and torn. You could see his ribs and his belly rumbled with each bite. “Sorry, miss”, he whispered.

You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I’m Y/n. May I ask your name?”

You could tell he was nervous. Something about your presence made him anxious and fearful. Is he like this with everyone?

“H-Hoseok”, the fox uttered. “But I can’t stay long. My pack is waiting for me.” With a slight struggle, he stumbles back on his two feet. You grab him before he takes off.

“Please wait”, you politely asked. “Let me give you some food to take back to them. Don’t leave yet.”

He paused for a moment, seeming to be pondering over his next steps. “Okay”, he spoke softly. “But don’t be long. They may worry.”

With that, you hurry back into your home, running to the fridge to see what you can scrap up. Hopefully I have enough for all of them, you thought. Maybe you can give them a couple of chickens from the coop.

While carrying plastic wrap covered plates to your garden, you hear a scream coming from the coop. That must be Hoseok. Without haste, you ran to the chicken coops, the food left for the birds. Hovering over Hoseok was what looked like a wolf– well half wolf.

“Back away from him!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, trying to scare off the scary hybrid. He ignored you completely. Suddenly, you gain the courage to step up to it, pushing it off of the fox.

“Are you okay?” You helped him back on his feet, feeling the trembles in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no, he would never hurt me”, He stuttered. “You don’t understand.” You looked at him confusingly, then looked at the wolf. He was fuming with anger.

“Y/n, this is my packmate, Joon.”

***

You’re not sure how feeding one hybrid led to having seven hybrids on your couch, but you have no one to blame but yourself.

“You want us to do what?!”

“Live here?” It was really just a random thought that popped in your head. You didn’t give it any thought. And seeing them dirty and hungry on your couch just made you blurt it out. Hoseok seemed thrilled but his Pack alpha, Joon, wasn't too excited.

“You must be out of your mind”, he laughed. “What do you think we are, pets?”

“No, not at all!” You shook your head. Something in the back of your mind tells you that they’ve been burned before, that they’ve been mistreated. You feel sort of sympathetic. Could they not trust anyone? “You guys don’t even have to stay here long. I just want to treat your wounds and offer some food.”

He still seemed doubtful. “Yeah? And what’s in it for you?”

That's the question he's been dying to ask. What about you? You thought about it for a moment. Wouldn’t any human being want to help out someone in need? The answer to that is no. However, maybe they need some good in their lives.

And you could use the company.

“Well, I kind of live here by myself”, You explain. “My parents moved to the city so I don’t see them often, and I don’t have any other family or friends. If I’m being honest, I really just need someone to converse with. And maybe a little help around the house.”

One of the packmates raised his hand, as if asking permission to speak. “We left the other home we were in. They may still be looking for us. We don’t want to put you in any danger.”

“We can figure all that out later”, you promise him. “Right now, you guys just need to wash up and get a proper rest.”

Hoseok turned to Joon, waiting for his response. “Please, Joon. We’ll be good, I promise.”

He glared at you for a second, trying to sense if this was another trap. Maybe she’s genuine, he thought. “Okay, but we won’t stay for long.” You could hear sighs of relief. Even you let out a puff of air, not realizing you were holding your breath.

“Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me. I know that’s not easy.” You gave them a tour of Emerald farm, showing them their sleeping quarters and where they can wash up. When evening came around, you prepared a feast. Your hybrid guests gobbled down all they could– except Joon. He didn’t eat, probably from fear of being poisoned. Hopefully, one day he’ll trust me, you thought. But for now, all you can do is show them tender care and affection until they believe it.

When it becomes time for everyone to sleep in their rooms, you're left alone in the living room with our thoughts. Maybe some television will clear your mind. You never really use it. Living on a farm left you with plenty of other things to do, but why not? Turning on the television, you flip through the channels until one catches your attention.

Breaking news! Seven dangerous hybrids escaping from a research facility

*Taglist open!

1K notes · View notes

superprincesspea · 5 months

Text

Courted By the Dragon - Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Chapter 1 - Spring

Chapter 2 - A Court of Sharks and Dances

Chapter 3 - Secret Admirer

Chapter 4 - Solitude

Chapter 5 - Cyvasse

Chapter 6 - Total Annihilation

Chapter 7 - Crumbs

Chapter 8 - Dance of the Dragon

Chapter 9 - Favour

Chapter 10- Gallantry and Bravery

Chapter 11 - Remedy

Chapter 12 - Storm Chaser

Chapter 13 - Issa Jorrāelagon

Chapter 14 - Secrets and Sapphires

Chapter 15 - Forfeit

Chapter 16 - Uncle

Chapter 17 - Coming Soon

Aesthetic 1

Also available on AO3

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader #enemies to lovers #fluff #slow burn #slow build #falling in love #eventual smut

454 notes · View notes

cinnabons-treasure-trove · 4 days

Text

Cleric Merlin: [tending to Arthur, concern on his face] What happened?

Templar Arthur: Sword training. A rookie mistake made by one of the younger trainees learning.

Cleric Merlin: [hands glowing gold, healing the wound on Arthur's right arm] That's strange...

Templar Arthur: How so?

Cleric Merlin: You got cut. By a sword.

Templar Arthur: [eyebrow raised] Yes Merlin a sword does cut as you can clearly see—

Cleric Merlin: No. Arthur. You shouldn't have been cut at all!

Templar Arthur: [smirk] I know I'm a great swordsman and can dodge fairly well but accidents—

Cleric Merlin: Clotpole! Except it wasn't an accident!

Templar Arthur: [confused] Merlin—

Cleric Merlin: [rolls eyes] Didn't you tell me years ago when we first started training together that beginners start off with wooden swords or weapons made to be blunt and enchanted to stay that way?

Templar Arthur: Yes, I did, what does that have to do—...[he stares at Merlin, realisation upon his visage] Someone's trying to kill me.

Cleric Merlin: [unimpressed gaze] You don't say.

167 notes · View notes

cubbyhole-for-flea-bee · 6 months

Text

what if NMJ just poofs into an owl when qi deviations loom tho

Bonus from a later reblog:

FWUMP

#turning nmj into an owl to incite brother shenanigans :3 #he has three didis and he can't get them to FIT under his wings!! he can't protect them!#you YEET the da-ge?? you yeet him like the soda can???#JAIL FOR HUAISANG #lil bro is a bird-lover u know he'd be delighted #and overly invested in teaching da-ge how to fly via flap power #until the owl sleep schedule conflicts with canary song-time and da-ge is chasing his songbirds around at the ass-crack-of-dawn o'clock #it'll wear off eventually no worries chifeng zun #buuuuut u keep losing ur temper? then u keep poofing into a flying feathery marshmallow bird that has to hack up pellets #giving chifeng zun the power to be a flying pillow with claws that can double in size and make people piss themselves with demon screeches #he gets to keep his mind intact but he has to be a bird first and suffer indignities #such as various brothers needing soft owl hugs Right Now #altho the ability to harass and prank a-holes and blame it on owl brain is a perk #jgs says something in-character and owl-nmj swoops him and Yoinks some jewlery #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #nie brothers #lan xichen #jin guangyao #zewu jun #chifeng zun #lianfang zun #mdzs #the untamed #fanart

378 notes · View notes

jadeylovesmarvelxo · 22 hours

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

Dustin wants to know why Eddie despises you over every other member of the dark side. You're just some cheerleader, right? What could you have possibly done to incur Eddie's wrath?

Starts off with Dusty Buns POV, then Eddie then yours.

Mentions of weed, Jason being a prick, Eddie pines but won't admit it... Mdni. Vecna? Who's Vecna.

🖤💌

Dustin truly thought Eddie Munson was one of the coolest people he had ever known, Steve of course was on that list of total badasses as well.

However for all, Dustin knew of Eddie and that was a lot (the guy made his feelings loud and clear on a variety of things, conformity, Jason Carver, why metal was the superior genre of music, Jason Carver.

But in the few short months since Dustin joined Hellfire and was taken under Eddie's wing, there was one topic he wasn't so clued up on, and that was you and the mystery of why Eddie seemed to despise you above everyone else in this school.

He had tried to casually bring the topic of you up, sure you were a cheerleader and on the dark side and Eddie hated conformity and shit but clearly you had done something painful to Eddie for him to hate you like this.

Dustin wasn't exaggerating either, anytime you and Eddie were in the same vicinity of each other it was like the temperature dropped in the room and Dustin was chilled to the bone at the icy glares between you and Eddie.

Literally, the mention of your name had Eddie's eyes filling with disdain. "She's a traitor and can't be trusted, don't ask about her again Henderson" Eddie snapped during one lunch break when Dustin brought you up out of curiosity.

"Uh meaning?" he asks confused but not wanting to piss Eddie off any further. His question is ignored until Gareth answers it quietly.

"She used to be in Hellfire, then she tried out for a spot on the cheerleading squad and got in. Refused to choose between the two, said she could do both and that Eddie was being an asshole, they had a big fight and she left Hellfire. It broke Eddie's heart even though he pretends otherwise"

Well, shit. "Don't tell him I told you that dude and don't bring her up again. Touchy subject" Dustin nods and expects that's the last he will hear about you.

It's not.

💌

Eddie ignores the chatter around him while his gaze is solely focused on you. Jackson had been hanging around you constantly and for some reason, it pissed Eddie off. Couldn't he enjoy his pretzels and Yoohoo in peace without seeing such a sickening display?

If Eddie felt a twist in his gut every time Jackson got too close to you then that was his business.

"Can't they go to the bleachers and hash it out so I don't have to bring up my lunch every time Jackass decides to flirt" Eddie snaps and narrows his eyes at you, Gareth rolls his eyes and Jeff hides his snort behind a cough when Eddie's glare is aimed at him.

"Dude she's not even interested in him. He was an asshole when they dated and she got sick of him within two weeks" Jeff is apparently very informed on the matter and this annoys him even more.

"You're very informed on the dating lives of the dark side Jeff?" Jeff shrugs and mutters something under his breath, something suspiciously like he still talks to you from time to time.

This would be Eddie's next rant. Giving the time of days to traitors was not in the Hellfire handbook, just because they had pretty eyes and a sweet but deadly smile was not an excuse to break said rule.

Unfortunately, he has a deal to make, the rant would be adjourned to another time. "Gentlemen, I must leave you now to embark on a quest for gold in the deep dark woods" he bows then heads out to his spot in the woods.

Waits for ten minutes and thinks that whoever it is isn't coming. All he had to signify the meeting was a note in his locker and he's still unsure if he's walking into a trap by Carver.

Impatient and just about to give up, he gets up and then stills when he sees you walk into the clearing. What the shit... Since when did you smoke weed? He's never known you to do it in any of the time he's known you.

"Munson" you nod and he closes his gaping mouth as you join him on the table, he expects you to be tense but you close your eyes and enjoy the cool wind and the peace of just the birds singing and leaves rustling gently. He forgot how much you liked being out here.

He clears his throat refusing to get lost in memories and you sigh, open your eyes and he stares back impassively. "Surprised Jackass isn't hanging off you like a limpet" he snarks and you roll your eyes at his tone.

"Jackson' you emphasize ''needs to take a hint. Look, Megan asked me to pick up weed for the party this weekend, so we can cut to the chase" Eddie snorts, you never did have time for bullshit.

"How much do you want?" you shrug and place twenty-five bucks on the table.

"Carver is paying apparently" There is a glint of mischief in your eyes and you smile impishly. Eddie does not get lost in that smile, no way. He clears his throat and smirks.

"Well if it's Carver's money" he takes the full amount and is surprised when you unsuccessfully try to hide a smile. He sobers up and plays with his rings, looks at you briefly then speaks again.

"Uh, it's potent so just make sure that you don't get overboard" he spits it out quickly, like he doesn't care either way what you do. You pause before getting up and there's that soft smile again.

"Careful Munson, anyone would think you still care about me'' there's a sadness to your tone and Eddie watches you go. There's an ache in his chest that feels all too familiar.

💌

You loved cheerleading, the closeness you felt with the rest of the team, learning routines together and having each other's backs. The close friendship you had with Chrissy and Tina. It was senior year and the cheer squad were on the precipice of winning a trophy for the school.

In that sense your life was perfect. In other ways not so much. You hated Jason but tolerated him for Chrissy. Jackson wouldn't stop bugging you to go back out with him, even though you had barely dated him for two weeks and grew tired of his jealous and demanding behaviour.

No way were you going down that road again. Then there was Eddie Munson, who hated you and made that feeling known, he was the bane of your existence and yet you were so tired of the animosity between you both.

Most of all you were sick of Jason and his stupid superiority, boy did he never let you forget that you didn't belong with the cheer squad. He all but cornered you after lunch to rant at you for laughing at one of Eddie's stupid jokes at Jason's expense.

It was a reflex. That's all and it was funny to see Jason brought down a peg or two.

"Don't think I forget where you came from freak, you can easily go back to obscurity playing Dungeons and Dwarves with Munson and his band of geeks" Jason snaps and you meet his gaze with unwavering intensity.

"Dragons", He looks confused and you smirk ''Its Dungeons and Dragons, dumbass" you tack on dumbass at the end just to piss him off even more, how dare he threaten you? Who did he think he was?

Sometimes you wished you could just go back and be a part of Hellfire Club again, a club that so easily accepted and looked after their own. Cheerleading was similar to that but the people in your friends circle sure liked to ruin any sense of security you felt. Mostly Jason and some of his Neanderthal friends.

Jason snorts and then he slams the locker beside you hard and it rattles you but you don't show it, when that doesn't work Jason knocks the books out of your hands and they go flying and he stomps on them before he leaves.

His laughter echoes down the hallway and you shout after him that he's an asshole, gather the books as best as you can and freeze as your well-loved copy of The Hobbit which already isn't in the best state falls apart completely.

Tears pool in your eyes and you hastily wipe them away, it's just a book, it's just a book you chant in your head but it doesn't work. It's been your constant companion since you were nine and it breaks your heart to see it tattered and broken.

Ringed hands help gather the rest of your work and you whimper. Shit, not him. Not now. Hastily you wipe your tears away and stand up, meet Eddie's gaze as he holds your books for you.

He looks begrudging in helping you but slowly his features soften at your tears, he looks at the tattered book in your hand, at the faint smudge of a shoe print.

"Who...Carver did this?" he growls and you nod still seething but the anger is ebbing away to sadness.

"I've had that book since I was nine and I know I can buy a new one but it's not the same, I hate him and I hate his stupid bullshit king title. He's an asshole and his group of Neanderthal friends and he can't even get the name of D&D right and I miss...'' you swallow and Eddie's anger melts away, his gaze intent on you.

"What do you miss?" he asks softly and you figure you've already spilled out some secrets so why not indulge one more.

"I miss Hellfire and I miss y...everyone" you hurriedly say and hope Eddie didn't notice the slip ''but everyone hates me now"

Eddie gently hands you back your books and you thank him. He's silent for a moment then speaks up.

"Everyone misses you too" he is about to walk away when you stop him. Your heart is racing but you have to be sure.

"Everyone?" you confirm and he knows what you're asking, if everyone includes him. He nods and reaffirms what he said.

"Everyone sweetheart and one more thing... no one hates you" he walks away at that point, runs to catch up with one of the freshmen in Hellfire and steals his hat. A laugh bursts out from you as you watch Dustin? as he chases Eddie around the hallway.

Yeah, you do miss Hellfire...and Eddie.

♥️

When you get to your locker on Monday morning there's something jammed in your locker so that it isn't fully closed. When you open the locker, a book falls out and you recognise the cover immediately.

A new copy of The Hobbit. You pick the book up and hug it to your chest, eyes sparkling with tears. You know exactly who left it in your locker but the little note of crumpled-up paper falls out.

It's clearly ripped from a Dungeon Masters notebook. All that's on it is a small message in a messy scrawl but it makes your heart skip several beats anyway.

Since Carver ruined the first copy, I thought you might want another.

E M 🖤

💞💞💞💞💞💌

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #enemies to friends to lovers #eventually #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson

165 notes · View notes

chappellrroan · 8 months

Text

which ship dynamic are you?

#enemies to loverswelp #here we are: the infamous enemies to lovers.#you started off on the wrong foot #but learned to tolerate each other until you eventually fell in love. or- you still hate each other #but you can't help but be drawn to them (i like this one better) you probably just want someone to be obsessed with you #(or u like being degraded a little bit i wont judge)#okay not accurate or maybe idk #do this 🤭

729 notes · View notes

loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 8 months

Text

Enemies With Benefits (1)

Jealousy

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: Enemies. That was what you were. She was an Avenger, you were a criminal. You should hate her, she should hate you. So why do you love the feeling of her skin pressed against yours? Moans spilling from her lips? The taste of her on your tongue?

Casual, rough sex. That was all it was supposed to be but soon feelings start to get involved. Would something so scandalous be able to last?

Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI, Strap on, Oral sex, Fingering, Jealousy, Nightclub, Enemies, Rough sex, Dirty talk, Grinding

General Masterlist | Enemies with Benefits Masterlist

Chapter 1- Jealousy- 1.9k words

---

Green eyes met yours from across the room, jealousy and anger swirling around in them as she stared daggers at you. A smirk grew on your face at her annoyed state as you stared back at her, your body moving in time with the music while the woman in your arms pushed her body back into you. The curve of her ass was flush against your front, heavy breaths escaping the both of you as you danced on the floor. Your head lowered to kiss along her neck, a moan escaping her throat that was drowned out by the blaring music.

“Fuck,” she said as your hands trailed across her body, gliding across her short dress until it met her exposed thighs. Your eyes never left the brunette on the other side of the room while you whispered dirty words into the blonde's ear, her head tilting back to rest against your shoulder. A sultry smirk was on her face as your lips ghosted over hers, your breaths mingling, a bead of sweat dripping down your neck.

Reluctantly, your gaze moved to the blonde, her eyes filled with lust as she glanced down at your lips before flickering back to your eyes. You mirrored her movement, looking at her plump lips, her tongue licking her bottom lip to wet it before it was trapped between her teeth and also had a quick look down at her chest, your position giving you a perfect view down her dress as she peered up at you.

Your hands moved to her hips, guiding her body so her front was flush against yours. You moved your hips in time with the music, hers swaying with yours as her arms wrapped around the back of your neck, her mouth moving to kiss along the hot skin. Your eyes then went back to the brunette, her now dancing with a tall man, her head tilted as she peered up at him. You almost chuckled at the action, knowing she learnt from Nat on how to seduce a man and lower his guard.

The black dress that clung to her body matched the smokey eye shadow she wore, the black contrasting the mesmerising green in her eyes and making them pop. You saw how she fluttered her eyelashes at him, his hands lowering down her body till they rested on her hips. Her hands then went to his shoulders, mouth moving to whisper in his ear while her eyes flickered over to you.

Her nails dug into your shoulders as you hovered above her, your hips pounding into her while your eyes watched her breasts bouncing with each powerful thrust. The strap was hitting all of the right spots deep inside her, her back arching and giving you the perfect access to the chest you were just admiring. Your teeth teasingly scraped over the sensitive flesh before your tongue licked around her nipple, your mouth soon taking her breast into your mouth. Her hands quickly moved to your hair, holding your head there as her hips moved in time with yours, moans pouring out of her mouth.

“Oh shit,” she groaned when you pulled back from her chest to kneel, lifting her legs up over your shoulders so the toy went even deeper into her. “Fuck Y/n,” your hips drilled into her, once of your hands moving to circle her clit while the other held onto the thigh that was trapped between your body and hers. You were forever grateful at how flexible she was, the angle easier for you to hit her sweet spots.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop,” her tone desperate and demanding making you smirk. You were tempted to ignore her words, slow your thrusts down and have her begging you to move but gave in and continued to pump the toy into her. “I’m gonna-” you cut her off with a bruising kiss, muffling the scream that erupted from the back of her throat as pleasure shuddered through her body once again.

A low groan escaped you as the memory faded, your eyes focusing on your surroundings to see the red tendrils dissipate around her fingers. The blonde smirked against your skin, thinking she was the reason for your affected state.

The brunette refused to look at you, her hands moving down the man's body until they reached his back pockets, slipping out the usb hidden in there and slipping it down her bra without him noticing. You waited for her to make the next move and continued to dance with the random woman as she chose what to do next. When you saw her leaving the man, his turning to find another woman instead of following, you quickly apologised to the blonde and followed the brunette. Your hand gripped her arm as she tried to walk away, pulling her body towards yours so her back was flush against your front.

“Where are you going my little witch?” you husked out at the shell of her ear, hands wrapping around her middle and moving her hips with yours. You hear the small groan come from her at your actions and grinned as you placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss at the base of her neck.

“I’m trying to work,” she rasped out back, leaning her head back to look at your face, her eyes naturally drifting to your lips and remembering the wonders your mouth can do.

“So boring,” your hand moving up her body till it rested on her throat for a moment before returning to her waist, “All work and no play?” your breath hot against her cheek as your mouth lowered till it hovered over hers.

Wanda answered your question by turning in your arms and crashing her lips to yours. Her hands roughly tugged your head down, hers tilting to deepen the kiss. You groaned at the intensity of it, your mind clouding with her. She pulled away with darkened eyes and a sultry smirk, her hand reaching out to grab yours as she pulled you through the club before pushing you into a random room.

Your back hit the wall, her mouth never leaving yours as her tongue explored your mouth. You heard the sound of the door locking, red tendrils fading around the handle as she continued to press you into the storage room wall. Your hand trailed down her back, squeezing her ass and pulling her closer to you before flipping the two of you around so she was pinned instead. Your mouth opened to say something but she placed her finger against them to shush you.

“Knees, now.” Her tone was one you wouldn't dare go against, not that you were going to anyway, and swiftly dropped to your knees. Her hands pushed your shoulders as you kneeled before her, looking up with a mischievous look as your hands rested on her thighs. “Don’t tease,” she rasped out, her hands tugging at your hair to make sure you were listening to her.

“So demanding,” you teased, quickly hiking her dress up to expose her soaked panties. “So wet,” you wasted no time in moving her underwear to the side and licking a stripe up her core, a loud moan escaping her. She pushed your head into her making you moan against her clit as you took it into your mouth.

“Fuck,” she sighed out, leaning her head back to rest against the wall. Your tongue was licking against her clit, your fingers running through her folds and gathering her wetness. A guttural groan left her when you thrusted a finger into her, her grip tightening on your locks as you smirked against her core.

“You looked so jealous on the dance floor,” you taunted, fingers curling against her g-spot making her hips buck forwards.

“I was not-Shit,” a choked moan escaped her when you swirled your tongue around her clit just the way she liked it. “I was not jealous,” she managed out, her eyes looking down at you with a dangerous look.

“So you wouldn't mind if I went back to the blonde?” you mused, pulling away from her clit for a moment to look at her. You held her gaze as you added another finger, watching how her mouth parted in a breathy sigh and eyes rolled back slightly. “Took her back to my place, fucked her with my mouth, fingers, cock,” she snapped at your last words, tugging your head back up to her mouth. Your mouths clashed, tongues fighting for dominance. You soon won when you moved your thumb to brush her clit, a moan taking her by surprise allowing you to control the kiss.

When air was necessary, you pulled back and moved to kiss along her neck. You could feel the groan she tried to stifle when you licked up the column of her throat, her eyes rolling at the feel of a smirk on her skin.

“Fuck her all you want,” she spat out, hands pulling you away from her neck. “We both know she’ll never make you feel how I can, make you come as hard as I can.” You just looked at her with a smug look to taunt her before moving to whisper in her ear. Your free hand moved to her chest, groping her breasts through her dress.

“Just admit you’re jealous, my little witch,” you husk out, making her groan in annoyance. You pump your fingers into her faster, making her whine pathetically as she buries her face against your collarbone.

“God, I hate you,” she whispers, her walls clenching around you and hips bucking signalling she was close.

“You can hate me all you want,” your voice low at the shell of her ear, “But you can’t say you don’t love how I make you feel, how I make you come so hard around my fingers.” As if on cue, her body tensed as her orgasm crashed over her. She muffling her mouth by biting on the fabric on your jacket to stop others hearing the scream that left her throat. You slowed her movements, letting her hips move along your fingers to ride out the aftershocks and soon pulled out.

Staring directly into her eyes, you raised your fingers that were covered in her cum to your mouth, sliding them in and moaning at the taste of her. She watched how your cheeks hollowed slightly and groaned quietly before pulling her dress down.

“Delicious,” you mutter while pulling the digits out of your mouth, her cheeks flushing at your sultry voice. You moved forwards to kiss her again but a hand on your chest stopped you in your tracks.

“I don’t have time for another round,” she whispers, pushing you back so she could walk past you.

“Scared your work friends will find you coming in my mouth?” your hands grasped hers, stopping her from opening the door. “I wonder what they’d think, hmm?” your mouth moved back to her neck, your hands gliding across her torso and down till her lower abdomen, “Fucking one of the bad guys, so scandalous.”

“That’s why they won’t find out,” she grits out, pulling away from you and opening the door, leaving you all alone in the room. You just chuckled to yourself, fixing your hair and clothes before pulling the usb you slipped out of her bra out of your pocket and twirling it between your fingers.

“See you soon, my little witch.”

513 notes · View notes

aislynn-wiley1999 · 2 months

Text

An Easy Decision

Sebastian x Reader One Shot

A year after graduating, Sebastian visits you unannounced and old memories stir.

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, making out, oral sex, PinV sex, explicit sexual content, strong language, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 4.4k

Read it on AO3 here! Check out my other stuff as well :)

There was no way to describe how you had been feeling for the past day, month, year. As a fresh adult in the world, life had been increasingly monotonous and usual. Nothing out of place, nothing exciting, nothing frightening, just plain. Hogwarts had been a dream the last three years, but now that you had to work you felt as though the magic had been sucked from your life.

It wasn’t just because of working and surviving, but because your social interactions had dwindled. Work was boring, but it was your own fault. You didn’t know what you wanted to do with your life yet, so you told yourself you had one single year to work in a shop and figure it out. That was in June, and now it is April. Time was running out, and you were scared shitless. Keeping in touch with friends from school proved harder than intended, and while you meant to send letters it became more and more difficult to find ambition. Which was particularly embarrassing, since Slytherin’s were meant to have a never ending supply of ambition.

It was a quiet Friday in the small garment shop, and you were looking forward to the weekend. Nothing out of the ordinary, other than perhaps how quiet the shop was. Sitting behind the counter, reading a book lazily, you glance up when the bell on the door rings.

“Welcome in-” you stop, staring aghast at the person who has walked in, before smiling at them and letting out a small laugh. Sebastian Sallow stood in the doorway, grinning sheepishly at you and your surprised expression. He was one of the few friends you tried to keep in contact with, despite being busy and unmotivated.

“What are you doing here?” you shout out as you walk out from behind the counter. He doesn’t say anything right away as you wrap your arms around him, engulfing him in a hug. You feel him press his head into the crook of your neck, and you squeeze him tightly.

“Figured I would take a little birthday trip down here, visit old friends. Wanted it to be a surprise,” he says, pulling away with a smile. “And I have come to kidnap you on the promise of drinks on me.”

“Oh gods, yes, happy birthday!” you tell him, trying to cover up the fact that you had forgotten. But yes, today was 17 April, and his birthday had only been a few days earlier. “How does it feel to be nineteen?”

He laughs, giving a shrug. “Underwhelming, if anything. Do you have much longer here for the day?” he asks, clearly eager to get out and drink. You shake your head, smiling. “Give me fifteen minutes to count the money and lock up. It’s almost five anyways, and then we can go!”

You busy yourself closing the small shop, glancing up at him with a smile every so often. It was such a delight to see him, after almost a year of being apart. He looked good, tall and confident, and you could tell that he had grown into himself in the last year. There were this lingering feelings for him, of course, when you received a letter or thought of him on occasion, but right now it was just good to see your friend.

With a turn and lock, you closed the shop and the two of you ventured out onto the high street in search of drinks. “I’m thinking that maybe we head somewhere small,” Sebastian said, leading the two of you down the street. You nod, eager to sit and talk and drink. He looked radiant almost, the glow of the low sun illuminating him and his smiling face, his freckles practically glowing. It felt like nothing had changed since the last time you were together, and you loved that.

There was a small corner pub that seemed to beckon him, and he quickly pulled you inside. It was a Friday, so there were few spaces to choose from in the pub, but the two of you found a tiny booth situated in one corner. He left you there to buy the first round of drinks, quickly returning with two pints. Scooting over the accommodate him, the two of you pressed against each other in the tiny space as you drank your drinks.

“Please let me buy the next round, since it’s your bloody birthday,” you say, laughing as he shakes his head no. “This is my treat, for showing up unannounced,” he says, taking a gulp of his drink. “How have things been for you? We really must try to write to each other more.”

It was true, the two of you maybe exchanged letters once a month now. Life had gotten busy, for you and probably for him as well. “I’m mainly just working, nothing exciting,” you say, and then giggle. “This is embarrassing, but I can’t remember the last time I was in a pub on a Friday night.”

“Do you not like going out anymore? We could have gone and just gotten dinner, or even just taken a walk,” he says, his tone concerned. You find these suggestions sweet, a reminder of how caring he can be when he wants to be.

“No, I just don’t have much of a social life, and it would be pretty depressing if I came to the pub alone on a weekend,” you say, taking a swig of your drink. The golden liquid blooms in your chest, creating a warmth inside you. Sebastian nods in an understanding way. “That you be pathetic,” he says, grinning.

You laugh, and he laughs, and it's as though you have not been apart for the past nine months. “What have you been up to?” you ask him, trying to give him a chance to speak. He shrugs. “Same as you, just working. I went to see Ominis yesterday, poor bastard was also not expecting me and is sick as a dog.”

That statement seemed to answer your lingering question about why it was just the two of you out tonight. Unless he planned on more people meeting you there later. “Is anyone else coming tonight?” you ask, trying to get an answer.

Sebastian’s smile wavers a bit, but only for a second. “Did you want other people to come?” he asks, almost trying to get an answer for himself. You shake your head, and he smiles. The two of you continue to drink your drinks, and soon you are staring at an empty cup.

Trying to fish out your wallet, he beats you to it and is at the bar in a flash. “Sebastian, I’m serious. Let me buy you at least one drink tonight as a celebration,” you protest as he comes back with full glasses. He only shakes his head, setting the drinks down.

“You can buy me one when I’m drunk,” he says, grinning. You don’t say anything, just sipping your drink while trying to hide your smile. You watch him out of the corner of my eye, how his throat moves when he swallows the alcohol. Perhaps it's the liquid running through your veins, but he looks better than he did in school. There was this new air of confidence surrounding you, and you wanted to say something bold but couldn’t bring yourself to it. Instead, you gulp the amber liquid in the hopes that the courage comes along the way.

“Woah! I didn’t actually mean that, neither of us need to get drunk before you buy me a drink,” Sebastian says, gently guiding the glass away from you. Giving him a funny look, you pull it back. “You don’t want to get drunk?”

He shakes his head, not smiling as big as he once was. “I don’t, not tonight, not with you.”

That makes you pause mid sip, thinking of all the ways his words could be interpreted. Looking at him, you furrow your eyebrows and hope he elaborates. Sebastian eyes you, looking shy and bashful in an instance. “Do you remember when we went to the Yule ball together last December?” he asks you.

You nod. Of course you did, even though the night hadn’t gone as planned. You had hoped that that was the night everything came full circle, that the two of you would get together. But instead, Sebastian drank too much and ended up throwing up in the bushes outside with you to witness it all. It was something the two of you laughed about later on, but you always felt disappointed.

“I wish I had kissed you that night,” he says, catching you completely off guard. “I regret drinking so much, but I was so nervous and wanted to feel confident, and I screwed it up. I screwed it up with you.”

Your mouth is half hanging open, not sure what to say. You are trying your best to process what he has just told you, just confessed, but you can’t for a minute. He waits expectantly for you to collect your thoughts and respond.

“So… you don’t want to get drunk tonight because… you want to kiss me?” you ask, feeling slow and out of touch. But when Sebastian laughs, it forces you to smile. “What?” you ask him, still smiling.

“I feel like wanting to kiss you is such an entry level requirement for everything else I want from you,” he says, his cheeks immediately turning red after saying that. Your’s go red as well, at what he could be implying. “But, I- why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, unsure of what else to say.

“I didn’t want to mess anything up. I would have rather stayed your friend than, I don’t know, have scared you off with a big confession,” he said quickly. You shake your head, trying to convince him otherwise. “I don’t think you understand how much I would have reciprocated that confession,” you say, smiling.

“And now?” he says, looking at you with a sense of uncertainty. The smile on your face becomes a shy one as you look at him, unsure of how to say everything that you want to say. “I think that I look at you now, and all those feelings seem to have stayed with me. Like nothing has changed even though it’s been nine months since we’ve had a conversation,” you say, speaking truthfully.

You don’t even get to look at the smile on his face for long before Sebastian leans in and presses a quick, soft kiss to your lips, pulling back after only a second. You instinctively lean forward as he pulls away, trying to catch his lips again, but he puts a hand on your arm. “Not here, in a pub surrounded by other people,” he says, his voice a whisper against your ear. You nod, understanding and agreeing. “Let’s go somewhere else, then.”

You nod. “I live with other people, though, and I have like, no privacy,” you tell him. He nods, and then continues. “I’m staying in an inn nearby,” he says, before shaking his head. You furrow your eyebrows in question, and he clarifies. “That just doesn’t seem right, me taking you to an inn. Not now, not after all this time.”

You shake your head at his words, not even having had that thought. “I just want to be near you, to make up for lost time.” The words out of your mouth surprise you with how bold they are, but you don’t back down.

“Let’s just walk around until the morning,” he says, grinning. You smile but you shake your head again. “Take me back with you. I promise, I don’t care where we are.”

He nods before standing up, offering you a hand. You let him pull you out of the booth, and hand in hand you leave the half empty pints on the table.

—-------------------------------------------

The inn room is small, with nothing but a bed, a lamp, and a chest of drawers. There is a small bathroom to the left, and you spot Sebastian’s bags on one side of the floor. The two of you stood a few feet away from each other, unsure of where to go from here. As comfortable as you were with each other, it was clear that neither of you wanted to jump into bed with each other right away.

“This is why I didn’t want to bring you back here,” Sebastian said suddenly, looking embarrassed. You shake your head. “I just don’t know where to start, and I want to do this, I do, but I can’t fathom where to begin,” you say flustered.

“Where to start? You don’t have to start or begin anything. I didn’t bring you here so you could perform or do anything for me. We can talk, or just stand here, or do whatever you want. Don’t feel pressured, and believe me, I’m probably more nervous being with you than you can imagine,” he says, running a hand through his hair with a smile.

His words bring a sense of ease to you, maybe just what you needed to hear at that moment. You step forward until you’re right in front of him, letting him take one of your hands. Gingerly, you stand on your tiptoes and brush a kiss to his lips, waiting for him to move into it. For a moment, the two of you stand nose to nose, and then he closes the gap between you.

The first few seconds are gentle and soft, testing the waters out for both of you. But soon, the movements of your lips become uncoordinated, desperate and fast. His hands find their way to your waist and you tangle yours in his hair. The two of you are standing, practically pulling the other person into them, trying to get as close as possible.

“Can we- go to- the bed?” you breathe out in between kisses. He nods, and you climb onto the bed, pulling his weight on top of you. You let him cradle you as he presses slow kisses to your lips, his pace changing. He stops and looks at you, staring up from underneath him. “We don’t have to do anything else,” he says, looking at your face for hesitation.

“I want to,” you tell him. “I really, really do.”

Sebastian has a look on his face that betrays both nerves and excitement. It’s the same look that he had when he asked you to the Yule ball, over a year ago. He nods again, before pressing another soft kiss to your lips. He pulls back again, looking at you, before attaching his lips to your neck. You sigh, and the soft noise seems to ignite something in his brain.

He rolls both of you over, you being on top of his body now. In one swift move, he maneuvers the two of you so that you are sitting up and straddling him on the bed. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before practically smashing your lips together. There is a sense of urgency as you move, hands exploring each other as lips and tongues move together.

You move your mouth, peppering light kisses along Sebastian’s jaw and down to his neck and you rock your body against him. He groans underneath you, your name leaving his lips as he rakes his hands over your back and down to your ass. Gripping you, he pulls you closer to him. Becoming impatient, you tug on his shirt in the hopes that he takes it off. The two of you break away for a moment, each tearing your own shirt over your body in a quick attempt to undress.

His hands come behind you, wanting to rid you of your bra, but he pauses. “Is this okay?” he asks, with a tone filled with concern. You press a light kiss to his lips, urging him to continue. “I promise I’ll say something if it’s not,” you breathe out, desperate for him to touch you. He seems to understand your urgency, and your bra is on the floor in the next second.

Sebastian stares at your chest, a look of marvel plastered on his face. In an instant, his lips are attached to your nipple, resulting in soft moans from you as you clutch his hair. “I need you, Sebastian,” you whisper as he sucks on the other nipple. He groans in response, pulling himself away from your chest.

You attempt to reach a hand in between the two of you to touch him through his pants, but he stands with you wrapped around him, turning so that he can lay you gently on the bed. He touches your skirt with a light hand, looking at you for any hesitation. You don’t speak, but instead start to gather your skirt so that it bunches around your waist. You look at him, your eyes doing their best to say fuck me, please. Without a single word, you shimmy out of your underwear and invite him in.

Sebastian practically buries his face in you. His mouth and tongue make these obscene sounds as he licks, sucks, kisses, and laps at every part of your sex. The noises mix with the moaning and babbling that emerge from your mouth, and you’re saying these things that you never thought you would say. Things like more, oh fuck, Sebastian, I need more.

His hands are gripping onto the soft flesh of your hips and ass, pulling you closer to him. It almost feels as though he wants to swallow you whole as he works you with his mouth and lips. One of his hands disappears, and then you feel his fingers working their way inside of you. Gasping, you clench around the two fingers he has in you, feeling so full already from him. He moans into you, vibrating your lower half as he starts to pump his fingers in you.

It’s too much, all too much. The way he is absolutely worshiping your body is going to cause you to explode. He’s curled his digits inside of you, his lips sucking like he can’t get enough, and you can feel your legs start to tremble. His name leaves your lips, and he does something extraordinary with his tongue that causes everything to shatter for you.

There’s no way to describe how good this all feels, except that perhaps you have touched the stars. He is still moving his fingers, his tongue, his lips, as you writhe and gasp on the bed. Once it becomes too much, you start to scoot away from his face, but he follows you with his hand.

“Oh god, it’s too much, please Sebastian,” you plead, shaking as he still pumps his hand into you. He’s watching you, his eyes dark and full of lust, as you try to move away from his hand. After a moment, he moves his hand and pulls his fingers out of you. You watched him, embarrassed, as he popped his fingers in his mouth. “Don’t do that,” you say, this shy feeling overcoming you.

“Why not? I just had my face buried in you,” he says, matter of factly, before grinning wickedly at you. You look down to where he is straining in his pants, and the desire to touch him overcomes you again. Sitting up slightly, you reach your hand out to the buttons on his pants.

He moves away from you, instead bending down to kiss you. “Please, let me touch you,” you say, reaching again for him. “I don’t want this to be over too quickly,” he says, cheeks running red.

There’s a pause as you consider what he’s saying, and you look at him with a question written on your face. “I want to fuck you properly, and I know I won’t last if you use your mouth on me,” he explains, now really looking embarrassed.

“Then do it,” you say, a sense of post-orgasm confidence running through you. You’re absolutely aching for him, and with your skirt hiked up and your flesh exposed you want him on you at this moment. There is a desire coursing through you, that only he can satisfy. “Please, Sebastian.”

Without another word, he climbs onto you and devours your lips in a needy kiss. Your bare core presses against his clothed erection, the sensation causing you to moan into his mouth. He immediately starts to grind himself against you, the two of you acting almost like crazed animals as you try to create a sense of friction.

“Take them off,” you say, fiddling with his pants again. This time, he stands and obliges. You watch as he removes his trousers and underclothes, and stare as he bares himself for you. Now there was no sense of hiding from him, no sense of unknown. You clenched around nothing as you watched him give his length two quick pumps, the thought of what to come already driving you insane.

“You know I’ve thought about this for a long time,” he says softly, climbing onto you again. “How I would take you, how you would look, what I would do to you. You’re perfect, absolutely perfect.” His head dips, kissing the outside of your breast. “And I want this to be perfect for you.”

“Sebastian,” you say, coming out more as a gasp than actual words. “Please, I think I might go insane if you don’t touch me.”

There is a hint of a smirk that comes over his face, and you feel him line your bodies up. His head bends down again to kiss you, whispering sweet things as he pulls his lips away. Gently, he slides himself into you, coaxing and teasing so that it causes you to feel every little bit. You both gasp in unison when he is fully inside you, a feeling of fullness and closeness like you had never experienced before.

He doesn’t move for a moment. “I want to hear everything that comes out of your mouth,” he says, commanding you. You nod, the feeling of him already leaving you dazed and delicious. Slowly, he pulls out. And then he pushes in again, slow and deep, and you can’t hold back.

There are these babbling words and sounds coming out of your mouth as he fucks you, rotating and snapping his hips. Words like fuck, oh god, please Sebastian, don’t stop, feels so good. Things you never imagined you would say, at least not before today. But now it feels natural as they tumble out, mixed with gasps and moans. You intentionally tighten slightly around him, and it brings noises and words from him. He’s calling you perfect, so good, an angel, beautiful, and everything else you could want to hear from him.

His thrusts are rhythmic, deep and precise. There is no great urgency between you, instead just relishing in the movements of each other. You bring your legs around his back, hands clawing at his back. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he says, his eyes shut as he moves in and out of you. All you can do is moan in response, no real thoughts left in your head.

But then you feel something else. Sebastian has slipped a sneaky hand in between you, pressing languid circles into your clit as he moves. He has started to get sloppy, his hips snapping with less of a rhythm, and you know he wants you to finish first. The combination of his hand and his length pumping in you cause you to arch away from the bed, his name coming out in gasps as you feel everything. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge of everything, and with one firm press into your clit you fall over.

Everything is on fire on your body, you can’t help it. You grab onto one of your breasts, needing to feel something more as you come. He is still saying things to you, things that only seem to drag out the feeling. “You’re doing so well, oh my god, you look so perfect,” he breathes out, his movement messy. You moan his name loudly one last time, and that’s it for him. He groans, thrusting three more times before collapsing on top of you.

Your legs are still wrapped around him as he buries his head into your hair. He lazily kisses your neck and jaw, as if he wants to taste your skin. Your fingers stroke his hair lightly, both of you breathing loudly and not really moving.

“Was that okay?” he asks suddenly, lifting his head up a bit to look at you.

“I feel like ‘okay’ is a massive understatement,” you tell him, a smile emerging on your face. He matches your smile, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Why did you not want to bring me here originally?” you ask, causing him to drop his smile. Sebastian thinks for a moment, looking almost embarrassed.

“I just- I felt like you deserved more than the bed at an inn. And I have to go back home in two days, and it just didn’t feel right for you. For how I feel about you, the way I wanted you. But I’m glad you talked me down from thinking that,” he says, his smile returning. You nod, understanding what he means. “And how do you feel about me, or how do you want me?” you ask, almost shyly.

But Sebastian grins wider, and you feel foolish for asking. “I like you. It’s been hard, these last few months without you. And I think that we could be great together, that you should move closer to me or I should move closer to you. If you’ll have me, that is.”

You nod, a sense of relief flooding your mind. He lays his head back on you, and for a moment you say nothing. But then you remember something, and giggle. He lifts his head back up slightly, giving you a confused look.

“You’re still inside me,” you say, moving slightly. His eyes widen and he slips out of you gently, pressing a small kiss to your temple as he does so. He stands up, heading to the bathroom. Pausing in the doorway, he turns to look at you laid out naked on the bed. “So you’ll have me, then?” he asks you with a soft smile.

“Of course I will,” you say, it being one of the easiest decisions you’ve ever made. “Of course, Sebastian.”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #slytherin #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow oneshot #eventual smut #friends to lovers

184 notes · View notes

brother-emperors · 8 months

Text

SO this! is about this specific entry in Burchard's Diary--

The Diary of John Burchard, trans. A. H. Mathew

--and the APERITIO ORIS rite (the mouth thing they keep talking about), but it's also a little about Ascanio's friction with the Vatican and the della Rovere-Ascanio rivalry

Politics and Dynasty: Underaged Cardinals in the Catholic Church, Jennifer Mara DeSilva

Popes, Cardinals and War: The Military Church in Renaissance and Early Modern Europe, David Chambers

Ascanio Maria Sforza: la parabola politica di un cardinale-principe del Rinascimento, Marco Pellegrini

#ascanio sforza #giuliano della rovere #italian renaissance tag #the thing about long term rivals is eventually you know each other better than lovers ever could bc you've spent so much time #trying to shove each other down a flight of stairs. there was.#christ what was it. della rovere's price of reconcilliation with rodrigo was kicking ascanio out of the vatican. something like that #literally you could've asked for anything and you picked the head of ascanio sforza. that's commitment baby.#marriage vows have NOTHING on that. but ofc. they did reconcile. and della rovere did visit him daily to talk for that one summer #ALSO THE FUCKING FUNERARY MONUMENT DELLA ROVERE COMMISSIONED #WHAT'S WITH THE ROMANTIC NECROMANCY BUDDY. HELLO? HELLO. BANGING ON THE VATICAN DOORS. ANSWER ME!!!!#drawing tag

465 notes · View notes

whimsyfinny · 4 months

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: provocative dancing, slight Sam x Reader, jealous Dean

Chapter Word Count: 4211

—-MDNI—-

A/N: So I had to post this chapter in 2 parts because of how long it was and the formatting was weird otherwise. So here we are, and 2 part chapter! But yeah same as always pls let me know of any errors as I am the only one who proof reads this shit.

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 pt. 1

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 8 - Part 2

Charlie eventually left after a few hours of convincing Sam and Dean that I would be absolutely fine infiltrating the club without them. At least at first. Some negotiations took place and after a while we all came to an agreement - I’d go in, scope the place out and unlock every door before leaving and letting the boys take over, handing over the intel on who everyone was and where they were stationed. This would make the kills less messy and reduce civilian casualties. Once this decision was made, we ate dinner before the guys went back upstairs to get as much information on the strip club as possible, whilst I went to finish the laundry from earlier.

I’d dropped Sam’s clothes off in his room before I headed Deans room to deposit his. Upon arriving, I twisted the handle and let myself in, breathing in the intoxicating scent of him before placing the neat stacks of clothing on his bed. Patting the top on the piles to ensure they wouldn’t topple over, I was turning to leave when something caught my eye. It was a pile of napkins and receipts crumpled up and tossed in the bin by the door - the same ones that made me feel so deflated earlier today. I smiled, feeling some semblance of relief course through me as I made my way upstairs again. As I walked I pondered; the Winchesters unknowing of the fact that I’d spent a short amount of time taking exotic dance classes. My ex boyfriend had paid for them so I could give him a ‘private show’ in cheap lingerie, and not to toot my own horn but I was pretty good at what I did back then so this should be a breeze. The only thing was that now I had a point to prove, and boy was I going to prove it.

I strode into the room where the boys were - Deans head in his hands and Sam’s face pressed to the inside of a book that was open on the table. He could have been asleep, if it wasn't for the fact that his eyes opened when I walked in. Without saying a word I grabbed an empty chair and set it in the middle of the room away from the desks and bookcases, making both men flinch at the abruptness.

“What are you doing?” Dean quizzed, lifting his head from his hands.

“Proving to you that I’m perfect for this case.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and I was unsure if he was catching on. I grabbed his phone from the table, unlocking it and finding the perfect song to play, settling on ‘Apocalyptic’ by Halestorm. At the start of the music he seemed to realise what was going on and he sat up eagerly, watching me intently as I undid my hair from its ponytail. I ruffled it up close to the roots, putting some volume in there as he went to stand up. I placed my fingertips on his chest and pushed gently, making him sit back down in his chair. I shook my head.

“Not you.”

He looked at me, puzzled; however his jaw dropped when I took Sam’s hand and urged him to stand. Sam had been paying minimal attention and just about knew what was going on when I gently pushed on his toned stomach, moving him backwards towards the chair in the middle of the room. I felt my heart do a small flip at the sheer size of the younger Winchester, this being my first time standing so close to him. And he smelt softer than Dean - less leather and gunpowder and more mint and fresh linens. I looked up at Sam through my lashes, watching his chest rise and fall more rapidly than before as he scanned my face. I smiled.

“Just relax, Sam. I Promise I don’t bite - at least not unless you want me to,” as the words left my lips I heard a SNAP and looked over at Dean, who’d now crushed the pencil he was using into splinters. I couldn’t help but smirk, starting to enjoy this perhaps a little more than I should. I pushed on Sam’s hips, urging him to sit, now in perfect view of his older brother. I stood in between Sam’s thighs and looked down at him, watching how his big eyes followed my hands as I slid them down over his shoulders and chest before running them back up again, tracing a single finger up over his Adam’s apple and tilting his chin up to look at me. The moment his eyes met mine his lips parted slightly and I leaned in close, so close that I could almost taste him. He let out the quietest groan and I whispered over his lips:

“I’ll try to make this enjoyable.”

I was bending over slightly, feeling my already very short skirt ride up. I sashayed around Sam, swaying my hips to the music and trailing my hands over his body with feather-light touches. Every time I did I felt him tense up or let out a small noise, especially when I crouched down behind the chair and slid myself underneath it, appearing between his legs and pushing myself up, my own legs straight and spread wide as I leant forwards. I now faced Dean, making eye contact with him as he watched me slide my hands up Sam’s thighs as I perched myself in his lap, swaying my hips as I pressed into him. I heard him suck in a breath at the contact, his manhood twitching in his jeans beneath the softness of my ass. I brought my knees and ankles together in a ladylike fashion before spreading them wide again, my legs pressing hard into the inside of Sam’s thighs. Deans knuckles went white as I ran my hands over my body and through my hair, biting my bottom lip sensually. Feeling Sam’s hands graze my knees, they slowly started to trail up my thighs as he snuck touches in where he could. My heart fluttered in my chest - his hands were already treating me far more gently than Deans did. I let him touch me for a few moments before I smacked his hands away and stood up. Spinning to face him I flipped my hair back, and slowly - oh so slowly - traced my hands down my own figure. As I outlined every curve I lowered myself so I was kneeling right before him - right between his legs that were spread wide like my own as my bare knees rested on the cold floor. I ghosted my hands up the inside of his thighs as he let out a shaky breath. I smiled up at him, but it seemed he was past the niceties as I noticed how dark his eyes had gone. I drew my hands back and spun around so I was now facing Dean whilst still nestled between Sam’s thighs. The older brother had pulled his chair out for a better view as his elbows rested on his knees as his large palms came together - as though in prayer - in front of his plump, kissable lips. He stared at me, unmoving and barely blinking, as though he were in a trance. Still on my knees, I threw Dean a coy grin before I placed my hands on the floor and walked them forwards, my ass now completely on show to Sam as my denim skirt did nothing to keep me covered. My back dipped in a feline manner as my chest came into contact with the floor, and I couldn’t help but think to myself that I would put money down that Dean loves this position for rough, pleasure-seeking sex. I hummed to myself at the thought of him fucking me into his mattress like this; one large, rough hand on my hip and the other propping himself up over me as he would moan my name and I would lose myself in his bedsheets.

I tore myself away from my daydream by sliding my hands forward so I was laying on my front before rolling onto my back, tilting my head back so I was looking at Dean upside down, my hair pooling around me. I gnawed on my bottom lip again as I planted both feet on the floor so my knees were bent and touching, before lifting one leg as gracefully as I could into the air and pointing my toes. Reaching my arms up, I gently touched my ankle and trailed my fingers over my leg, up my thigh - catching on my skirt and lifting it higher - along the soft skin of my exposed torso and over my breasts. I then dragged my fingers through my hair and over my scalp, my outstretched arms lifting my tank top a little - flashing Sam some braless underboob. I heard him moan and shuffle in his chair, however my eyes were still locked with Deans, and I watched as the older brother leant back and spread his legs a little wider, adjusting himself in his jeans as he laced his fingers together over his abdomen. Without missing a beat, I flipped myself back over onto my stomach and played the previous motions in reverse - sliding upwards so I was on all fours and then back to being just on my knees. I turned so I was facing Sam again, grinning at his hooded eyes and slack jaw as I placed my hands on his knees and pushed myself up to standing. I stepped around him slowly, my hands running down his broad shoulders as I moved to stand behind him. I leant down and whispered into his ear, his head dipping to the side slightly as my breath fanned out over his hot skin:

“Admit it, I’m perfect for the case.”

I watched his eyes flutter closed as he replied in a breathy voice.

“Yes… you’re perfect…” he paused, like he’d forgotten to finish his sentence, “…perfect for the case, I mean.”

I smiled as I stood up straight, catching Deans piercing gaze again.

“I’m going to bed - it’s been a long day. You boys should too,” my voice came out perhaps a little more sultry than I expected.

They both nodded, humming in response as I turned away, walking to my bedroom and leaving behind me at least one testosterone-field time bomb.

I’ll probably regret that whole ordeal in the morning

——————————————————————

Taglist: @justjensenandhisalteregos @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lanassmarty @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hell0-ki11y111 @hobby27 @lilcuutiee @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @viridiesa @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @ilikw @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @vsplanet @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @raven-red10 @feyresqueen @lori69 @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @qinnroki @winchestergirl82 @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @lazygrungekid

Some of the tags haven’t worked so please check your settings if your name is highlighted!

——————————————————————

Up Next:

Chapter 9

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x you smut #eventual smut #supernatural smut #slow burn #supernatural #spn #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #smut

273 notes · View notes

xspeter · 3 months

Text

TIME AFTER TIME

steve harrington x reader, better than the movies au, fake dating, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, slight jonathon x reader, no upside down, fluff to angst to fluff, happy ending, canon-divergent characters, slow updates

♥︎

Steve Harrington is practically the bane of your existence. He’s god awful and he knows it. But when your childhood crush comes to town, he’s the only one who can help you win him over.

But soon enough the lines between hate and love become blurred, and suddenly you find yourself falling for someone you never thought possible.

♥︎

🝮

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Chapter one ❣︎ uh oh, i’m fallin’ in love

Chapter two ❣︎ i’ve got a blank space, baby (and i’ll write your name)

Chapter three ❣︎ that boy is mine

253 notes · View notes

abouttofillhisshoes · 2 months

Text

What time you coming out? - M.H x Reader // pt.1

A/N: Lenas writer debut??? Omg??? This has a bunch of references to fics like the cellophane house (written by the lovely @vinylandcoffeecollection, srsly check out their work!). It's a bit angsty? Not really but angst will come this is a chaptered fic. Based off fallingforyou, hence the title. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading and putting up with me xx

wc: 11k

part two

February, 2008

“I'm not sure we should be doing this, neither of us is a professional hairdresser in any capacity”

Mötley Crüe’s ‘Public Enemy #1’ blares through the small speaker set on top of the toilet lid, the music reverberating off the bathroom's tiled walls. Matty attempts to brush the bleach onto your hair, narrowly missing your eyebrow for what felt like the sixth time. You'd prefer to not come out of this situation looking like 90s madonna if you could help it.

“Could you maybe not get the stuff on my face? I'm not sure I'd look as amazing as I do with bleached brows,” you say, flicking Mattys hand away from your hair, straightening your posture on top of the sink. Your elbow accidently knocks into the faucet and you curse out loud.

“You're right love, you'd look well hideous without brows” Matty retorts, laughing in your face. He's right, doesn't mean he has to say it.

“At least I have any sort of eyebrows, I'd get yours filled in if I was you.” Now it's your turn to laugh at him, his jaw hitting the floor at your comment. He clutches his chest with his hand, bending over for dramatic effect as if to say: “You wound me”. You fall into each other's arms, fighting over the ipod once again.

The song changes, and Matty resumes his attempts at bleaching your hair properly, failing once again. It had been a stupid, stoned impulse decision to buy the bleach at all. The local drugstore sold it for cheap, and you had some pocket change on you. Matty wanted you to buy the red dye, and you dismissed him immediately, because even he knew you'd look absolutely terrible as a redhead.

You hum along softly to David Bowie's “Suffragette City”. Bowie was your Idol. The song reminds you of him. Of Matty. It reminds you of when you first met.

—------------------------------------------------------

You were 15, pacing the street late at night, your boyfriend was blowing up your phone. Insincere apologies and “i love you”’s filled your screen. 4 missed calls. Tears were streaming down your face, making you not quite able to see straight.

The song playing, was blaring in your headphones, almost deafening. The song didn't fit at all to your current situation, but that didn't bother you.

It wasn't long before you reached a bus stop, sitting down. You didn't even know where you were.

Suddenly, like it was out of your control, you let out broken sobs, no longer silently crying. How fucking embarrassing.

You're not sure how long you’d been sitting there, in the dark, shivering in the cruel November weather.

You hadn't even noticed the person walking up to you.

He’d positioned himself in front of you, twisting his neck to get a look underneath your hood.

“You alright?” his voice sounded soft, concerned even. Through muffled sobs, you managed to look up at him.

He had a thick, fluffy jacket on. Oddly feminine for bloke, and you were pretty sure it was a women's coat. It basically swallowed him whole. You almost laughed at the sight. It almost made you forget about the night's events.

You’d had yet another fight with your boyfriend, Phillip. The two of you fought a lot, but never like this. Sure, he’d said some hurtful things, things you maybe shouldn't have forgiven as quickly as you did, but he had never, ever, gotten violent with you. Until tonight.

You'd barely registered it when it happened, your brain not properly processing his actions. In the midst of his screaming, he raised his hand. Raised. his. hand.

It came down with a crash against your left cheek, the sound echoing through the house. Because he did, in fact, have his own flat. Because 24 year olds usually have that.

Everything hit you at once. You'd managed to pick yourself up off the ground at a speed which would have given even world record holders a run for their money. You didn't bother grabbing anything else, you just needed to get out, now.

You could faintly hear his voice calling out from behind you, begging you to please, please come back. And what? Let him put his hands on you again? No way. A rare moment of clarity.

Fucking cunt

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the stranger's voice.

“I’m Matty.” he offered his hand, and you shook it. “What're you doing out here in the cold? Its fuckin’ freezing.” He's right, it was cold. It hadn't occurred to you to take your coat with you.

You stuttered out a pathetic response of your name, barely making eye contact with him. A few beats pass before Matty starts ruffling around in his coat pockets. Raising your eyebrows, you watch him.

You can hear the faint sound of keys in his right pocket, and it's not long before he pulls out a joint from his left. It looks crumpled and old, like it had been there for a while.

“Spliff? It looks like you need it more than me.” He chuckles, and it somehow makes you feel better. He makes a move to sit next to you, and you twitch slightly when his shoulder touches yours. The bench is quite narrow, so you know it's not on purpose. It doesn't bother you quite as much as it should, given he is a stranger.

He takes out his lighter. It looks old and used, the black plastic chipping off around the top. It looks like it's a miracle it even works. You can see white writing along the side of it. M.H. Initials? His initials? Matty H something.

He starts burning the tip. Rotating the joint to get an even burn, you watch his movements closely, taking in some of his features.

His hair was curly but frizzy, you could tell he didn't pay it much mind. His features seemed soft, almost feminine. He was clean shaven, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark brown of his hair.

Matty lets you take the first drag, stating “The first hit’s the best, and I've always been a gentleman”, flashing a grin your way. That made you laugh. You take a drag, letting the warm feeling spread through your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked timidly, his voice lowering.

“Absolutely not.” You mutter, looking him straight in the eyes for what seems like the first time that night. A smile.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“D’you think I'd look good as a blonde? I feel like I'd smash it,” Matty says, inspecting his hair in the mirror behind you. He has gorgeous locks, and you're constantly telling him to try and take care of them, he just doesn't listen. You study his features before giving him an answer.

“Maybe. Either that or you'd look like a bad hooker,” Matty gasps, shoving your shoulder in protest. The movement makes your elbow bang against the faucet again, but you ignore the pain this time

“I'll let you know i'd make an amazing hooker, thanks very much,” He proclaims quite loudly, making the both of you burst into a laughing fit.

You take the brush from Matty, twirling in your hand. George had taught you how to do that. An idea pops into your head.

“We could give you a few blonde highlights, just to try it out. There's no need for you to go full Elle Woods immediately” A giggle escapes your lips, picturing Matty with long, blonde hair. That’d be a sight.

“Let's do it, right now,” he breathes, visibly excited.

“Really? Adam’d take the absolute piss out of you, you know.” Matty rolls his eyes obnoxiously before he speaks. “Well then let Adam hold on to his toxic ideas of masculinity, I need a change.” This piques your interest. Matty? Need a change? Weird.

“What, did some bird break your heart this time? That's new, even for you Matthew,”

You can see him visibly cringe at your use of his full name. You know he hates it, and that is exactly why you do it. Getting a rise out of him is your favorite pastime.

“Switch with me then,” you say, and he obliges, letting you hop off the counter. You mix up a new batch of bleach and part off his hair into small sections. Little pink hair bands hold his curls in place. You shoot him a look and he nods, giving you the go-ahead. The bleach goes on smoothly, your practiced hand much less prone to mistakes than Mattys.

It doesn't take long before you're both sitting on your bed with foils in your hair. You manage to snap a picture of Matty on your polaroid camera. The light reflects off the foils, distorting the picture slightly. Matty demands to see it, but you decide to keep it for yourself. Can't get everything you want.

It's Mattys' turn on the music.

You've decided on a turn system for music when you're together, to avoid the gnarly fights you used to have over who gets to control the ipod.

He picks the latest Deftones album. It's not really your taste, and you tell him as much.

“S’not my fault your music taste consists of pop trash. Get well soon”, now it's your turn to shove him, and he almost falls off the bed. Your fights over music happened frequently. He insisted on listening to real music, while you couldn't care less if it sounded good.

The timer dings and you both get up to wash your hair in the sink. Water splashes everywhere, absolutely soaking the bathroom. You don't care. It's just water.

Towels litter the bathroom floor, soaking up the mess. Matty helps you dry your hair after you promise to help with his. The warm air feels nice on your neck.

“I like it, it makes me look camp,” Matty states, admiring himself in the mirror. Of course he'd say something like that.

“You look great, now get dressed, I've messaged Hann. He's picking us up at half 11”

Adam was one of your best mates, and the only one who had a car. You and Matty were still in school, along with George, another one of your friends. Adam and Ross shared a flat on the outskirts of the city. Adam's mother had gifted him a car for his 18th birthday last year. A bright red Kia. Bumper stickers littered the back, your favorite reading ‘Vehicle of legends”

Matty had borrowed one of your tops, specifically, a mesh top you'd gotten from Hollister a few weeks prior. It was adorned with a black tank top underneath, paired with the black skinny jeans you're convinced have fused with his legs at this point.

His hair had dried, dark curls now in contrast with blonde streaks. They framed his face. He looked good.

You’d gone for a more colorful ensemble, opting for baggy jeans instead of skinny ones. The bottom had already been well ripped up from years of dragging them on the ground. You paired said jeans with a wine-red off the shoulder jumper, the black strap of your bralette peaking out. You’d always loved that color. It reminded you of your favorite flowers, red roses.

The window closed softly, and you silently thanked God you lived on the first floor. Adam was already parked down the road from your house, impatiently waiting for the two of you. The radio was playing as you got in. Matty immediately started going on about how pop music has ruined the music scene and how it was all 'soulless, meaningless droning' and 'had no feeling anymore'. He always did this, and you'd learned to tune it out by then.

The drive was short, and you arrived at your destination not long after you’d set off. The air smelled like water and wet pavement. It had been pissing down earlier in the day.

‘The spot’ was an abandoned paper factory, affectionately renamed “Caroline's house” for any eavesdropping parents.

Carolines had been abandoned for well over 5 years before you started hanging out there, not many knew about it.

The three of you had already made your way through the back entrance. The front had been blocked off years ago, a futile attempt at keeping kids out. There was one specific room you always went to, and that was the office. It had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the city below. The glowing lights made you feel small and irrelevant in the vastness of the world.

The night was bright under the full moon, making it easy to see outside. Adam always brought an emergency flashlight with him when you went to Carolines. He was the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos. The responsible one. He always made sure everyone got home safe, talked your way out of situations with coppers on multiple occasions, and knew when to tell the bartender to switch drinks to water or juice. You’d always thank him the morning after.

“What even is your shirt, mate,” Adam asked with a grin on his face. He loved to take the piss out of Matty for his camp-ness. No harm no foul, Matty would do the exact same to him when the opportunity presented itself. Eyeing him up and down, he shook his head and went back to picking at his nails.

“She let me borrow it for tonight. Looks good, yeah?” Matty shoots back.

“Yeah sure, that and those white streaks in your hair make you look like a proper girl, you know”

You have to laugh at his statement, because it does ring true. From a certain distance, anyone could mistake Matty for a woman.

“You wish I was a girl, it’d make you feel less guilty about your sex fantasies, innit?” Matty cackles at his own words. Adam chucks a lighter at him, and misses. It instead bounces off the railing of the terrace and clatters down onto the ground somewhere behind you.

That was your cue to take out the small baggy from the pocket of your jeans. Going to look for the lighter Adam had just thrown, you turn around to see he’d already snatched your papes and weed, and started to roll a spliff.

“Oh come on, I look away for a second and you steal my weed. What, are you too broke to buy your own?” You huffed, sitting down on the floor next to him.

“Girls don't roll their own spliffs. You should know that by now, love” he said with a wink.

Cue eye roll.

“Oh thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Hann? Fuck off.” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was never a display of chivalry, it was simply Adams' way of trying to get under your skin. Your stubborn self wouldn't let him, of course. Flashing him an award winning smile, you lay back on your elbows and eye him as he rolls your joint for you.

Matty was preoccupied with gathering enough cardboard so he could sit on the floor comfortably. The three of you couldn't be arsed bringing in furniture from the office, so you were left with the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the terrace to sit on.

The minutes ticked by and Adam took his sweet time, presenting the spliff with a look of pride. You reach for it, seeing as you already had the lighter in your hand. Instead of handing it to you. Adam shakes his head.

“Girls dont light their own spliffs, either” You scoff at that, though deciding against smacking him upside the head. You hand him the lighter.

Mattys giggles can be faintly heard over your bickering, and Adam finally lights up. The distinct earthy smell fills up the air around you. They both let you have the first drag, stating something along the lines of “Ladies first” another eye roll.

“Fucking wankers”, you mutter under your breath, and finally, you inhale. It hits you almost immediately, a soft, fuzzy feeling that reverberates through your veins into every inch of your body. The two of them let out a laugh at your expression, utterly euphoric.

Adam takes the next drag, hitting him just as hard as it did you. He leans against the glass sliding door, letting his eyes droop closed.

“Fucking hell, this is some strong weed.” He lets out a rough cough, “Where’d you even get it from?”

“Oh y’know, just some guy. Same as always I s’pose,”

Matty spoke “What, d’you shag him or something? No one just gives out this type of premium stuff on a whim,”

This makes you chuck the grinder at him. It hits him square in the chest. You hum contentedly, grinning at him in amusement when he doubles over in pain. You bicker back and forth, calling each other names. Adam passes the spliff back to you, and you take another hit.

Time passes slowly. The clouds slowly reveal more and more of the full moon. It is quite beautiful tonight, you notice.

Adam produces a bottle of tequila from his ‘gay-ass tote bag’ as Ross calls it. You take turns taking swigs straight from the bottle, Matty managing to spill some onto his mesh top, making quite literally everything reek of alcohol.

You felt good. The high mixed with the healthy amount of tequila made you feel like you were floating. You could tell Matty was just as hammered as you, seeing as he was now straddling Adams lap, trying to kiss him.

After multiple attempts at getting him off, Matty stood up on his own, stating that he didn't want Hann to pop a boner au cause de his womanly features.

The three of you laugh and laugh until you finish the spliff. You’d never had a good tolerance for anything, whether it be weed or alcohol. You weren't particularly small, it just always hit you way harder than Adam or Ross. Even Matty managed to pull himself together when the situation called for it. You, however, were stumbling and tripping over your feet the entire walk home. It had been pissing down the entire morning. Puddles littered the streets, not an ideal weather for someone who was too wasted to even have any sort of depth perception.

Adam had to leave suddenly, picking up a last minute shift at the shop he worked at. It was in the opposite direction of where you came from, leaving you and Matty to walk home.

It wasn't a long walk, 30 odd minutes or so. It was made significantly longer by your inability to walk in a straight line to save your life. Echoing laughs filled the streets as Matty helped you trudge along. Your pants dragged on the floor as usual, which meant they were also dragging through the numerous puddles, soaking them.

You stop suddenly, looking down and pouting at the darkened material of your pants. For some inexplicable reason, this made you stomp your feet like a child. Matty broke out in uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in his eyes. You were actually acting like a child.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing those insanely baggy pants. Look at me! My pants don't get wet AND my ass looks phenomenal in skinny jeans” He twirls around you, making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Oh fuck off!! Not everyone is an attention slag like you, have some decency for once in your life!” You retort, shoving him out of your line of sight. Due to your state, Matty quickly catches up to you.

The steps of your house come quicker than expected. Both of you make your way to the east side of the first floor, where your bedroom window remains slightly ajar. You'd wedged an old shirt between it to keep it from closing all the way. You'd gotten sneaking out down to an art, always knowing when, where and how. Your mother had caught you once. It was your first time. You knew not to make those same mistakes again.

Matty helped you hop onto the windows ledge, his hands grabbing at your sides. While he looked frail, Matty was actually quite strong, lifting you up without breaking a sweat.

You're sitting on the edge, slightly taller than him now. Peering down, you reach your arms out. The two of you hugged tightly, whispering quiet “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s. Saying goodbye after a night out often felt strangely melancholic, you never wanted the other to leave.

You've been attached at the hip since that night. He’d convinced you to break up with Phillip, stating he was a bastard who shouldn't be allowed near women ever again.

Matty went on to introduce you to his mates after you’d found out you went to the same highschool. That was nearly 3 years ago now.

Late nights often make you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone to that specific bus stop and met Matty. If he had ignored your crying instead of offering you weed and sitting down next to you. He’d always been charming, like a magnet, he attracted everyone around him. Sure, he was a bit pretentious at times, but everyone has their faults.

You roll over and try to sleep, slowly coming down from your high. You made a mental note to take it easy next time, maybe pace yourself. It was hard to know your limits when it came to substances, and Matty was the same way. Adam was the ever responsible one, never too drunk or high, always the parent. You were grateful for him, knowing what situations you'd be stuck in if Adam had not been there to smooth things over.

The tiredness hits you in waves. Glancing at the clock left of your desk, it read 3:26 am. Fuck. You try to ignore the fact that you had to be up in about 4 hours. You close your eyes, welcoming the rest.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A harsh knocking sounded from the direction of your window, scaring the shit out of you. You bolt up, pissed at the disturbance. Turning to face the window, and are met with a familiar grin. Matty.

It takes all of 5 seconds of him being in your room before you start cursing at him for waking you up like that. He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits in his designated chair. A maroon sofa chair in the corner in front of your bed. It even has M.H carved into the wood, because Matty had some sort of fetish for carving his initials into things. A sign of ownership? It made you wonder.

Shuffling around the room, you kick your still wet jeans off into the corner, instead picking up a denim skirt. You’d wanted to wear that same red top to school, but seeing as you had fallen asleep wearing it, you chucked it into the same corner as the pants.

A pink baby tee caught your eye from the chair Matty was sitting in. You silently point at it and he passes it to you. This isn't the first time you've changed in front of him. It didn't happen often, but what was the point of kicking him out? It's not like he was actively staring anyway.

After quickly changing, you go to put on some makeup. Makeup made you feel pretty, pretty enough to go outside. The only person who sees your bare face regularly is Matty. Maybe George. You didn't go anywhere without it.

You can feel Matty looking at you from the corner of your eye. Raising your eyebrows at him, you ask him what he's staring at.

“D’you reckon i can try some of that?” he gestures vaguely at the eyeshadow brush in your hand “I think i’d look class with my new highlights.” he twirls his hair around his finger, giving you a look.

You look at him skeptically, before breaking out into a smile. Matty smiles back. It's not long before he’s sat in front of you, wincing whenever the brush makes contact with his eyelid. You tell him hes just not used to it, and to just stay still, for fucks sake.

Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work. You have to admit, he looks good. Really good. His eyes were lined with a dark purple shadow, making them appear slightly bigger. He takes his fingers, slightly smudging the out corners, giving him a catty look.

“I think you might even look even better than me,” you say, looking him up and down. This is one of those rare moments where you can't read Mattys' expression at all. Finally, he opens his mouth

“No one could look better than you, trust me,”

A beat of silence before he speaks again

“I do look ravishing though, d’you reckon Adam'll like this more than the highlights?” He always manages to make himself laugh. Then in typical Matty fashion, he pulls out a beat up looking joint from the pocket of his too tight jeans.

“Fancy a spliff?”

“Matty, for christ's sake, we have school in about an hour, and you want to smoke now?”

“It's the only true way to get through Mr. Henderson's maths class, you know it'll be unbearable if we don't.” translation: please smoke with me. He gives you a look, because you know he's right.

It was too late to protest. He’d already made his way to open your window, knowing how much you hate stinking up your room.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, and you find your place next to him.

The wind and rain had calmed down, so Matty had no difficulty lighting it. The smell filled your senses, almost overwhelming you. You were thankful for the fresh air.

He placed the spliff between your lips, watching you intently as you inhaled. Your orange lip gloss had rubbed off the filter, and transferred onto his lips. The weed wasnt as strong as last nights, but still, the sight of Mattys glossed lips made you break out into a fit of giggles. Time seemed irrelevant up until the point you had to run to catch your bus. Sweaty and out of breath, you sat down in your usual spot.

You can hear comments and insults being thrown at Matty from the back of the bus, but neither of you paid much mind. Matty was high as a kite, and too loopy (hungover) from the previous night to offer up one of his witty retorts. Instead, both of you gave them the bird from over the seat.

Matty was leaning against you, his arms hooked into yours. Neither of you spoke, listening to the soft rumbling of the bus. You stank of weed, anyone could smell it on you. Remembering a perfume bottle in your handbag, you take it out and douse yourself, as well as Matty in it.

“Oh for fucks sake, now everything smells like Jimmy Choo Illicit!” Matty whined, burying his head in his hands. “Couldn't you have picked a manlier perfume? I'm already walking a very thin line with all of this” He vaguely gestures to himself.

“Would you rather get kicked out after coming to school smelling like a fucking dispensary? Think ahead, Matthew!” He cringes visibly

“No need to get out the full government name, jesus” he shuffles up against you, and you can see his eyes are a light shade of red. There's no way the two of you would get through first lesson unnoticed.

George was already waiting for you guys at your stop. Greeting him with a hug, you try to avoid eye contact, yet somehow, he knows.

“Hey, you alright-?” He cranes his neck to get a better look at your face

“Are you–? Are you high??” He laughs out loud, smacking your arm to stabilize himself. You shoot him a death stare, but you can feel a laugh coming too. Matty let out a sarcastic haha before kicking George as a way to say get on with it, we have class.

The walk to the room through the sea of people in the halls feels like a claustrophobic hell. B.O ridden teenagers rub up against the three of you, some even (quite violently) shoving past.

It's a miracle you make it without Matty losing his mind at one of the hecklers. School was actual hell for Matty, and by proxy, you. Insults were thrown at him without a second thought, and the makeup he’d adorned today surely didn't help the comments.

He never let it truly get to him. He didn't care, and that's what you loved so much about him. This part of the city was set back about fifteen years in terms of acceptance and progressivity, so his flowery backpack and femininity wasn't exactly welcomed.

Adam had always taken the piss out of him for his outfits since they were boys, but he never, ever meant it seriously. They were like brothers, those two, and no amount of shit from other people (irrelevants, as Matty would put it) would be able to break them apart.

The way the room was set up, there were six tables of four, with two people always facing another two. You had sat in the seat next to George, with Matty sitting (well, more like laying) across the other two chairs opposite you. Mr. Henderson had given up on trying to get Matty to sit right a long time ago, instead just flat out ignoring him. It was always easier to fail than to teach.

“Fucking poofter, that one,” you can hear someone saying from behind you. You know they mean Matty.

Matty blows them both a kiss before getting flipped off by the shorter one. He loved taking the piss out of the people who insulted him, throwing them off.

George questions mattys makeup, and you tell him it was his idea. George had always supported Matty, using his insanely tall stature to fend off anyone giving him a hard time.

The lesson was going by at a snail's pace, with Matty being his usual self, interrupting at every possible moment. It was so obvious he was off his tits, and Mr. Henderson looked suspicious. A particularly loud laugh from George had prompted him to throw you all out. You couldn't care less, getting up immediately.

Matty picked up his things from the floor, making a show out of bending over in front of the two boys that had insulted him earlier. They both scrunch their faces in disgust, muttering under their breaths. A giggle escapes you as they stare daggers.

“Fucking cunt,” one of them says, and now it’s your turn to blow them a kiss.

The three of you trudge down the halls, slowly but surely coming down from your highs. George suggests going to Ross and Adams flat, seeing as it's just a few bus stops away from the school. They share a flat above a Sainsburys, which is optimal for late night munchies. Adam even works there, so there's always opportunities to sneak a packet of crisps or a can of cola.

The bus stinks of sweat and mildew, as did all buses in britain. You get used to the stench after a while, your legs propped up onto George and Mattys laps. The back seat was always your favorite, giving you ample space to stretch a bit. You and George share headphones while Matty takes a quick power nap. He always lets you pick the music, and today it was Radioheads ‘No Surprises’. The music plays softly as buildings and trees pass by the window. The day was quite sunny, the light reflecting off of the windows of houses and offices. You'd sobered up enough to be able to think clearly by now.

These days were the best. They felt calm, like you could forget every other fucked up thing in your life. Your mother, your coursework. Nothing else existed in your little bubble except the people you were with. It felt peaceful, like a breath of fresh air.

Matty stirred awake as the bus halted to a stop, yawning for dramatic effect. He loved to exaggerate, ever the performer. George was the quiet, brooding type, trying desperately to go unnoticed, which proved rather difficult. Although he was barely coming up on his 18th birthday, he had grown to a staggering 6 '4, with a voice at least 3 or so octaves deeper than Mattys.

It had proven useful, you aways had someone to send into the smoke shop to buy fags or liquor, even if it always took a pep talk to even get him through the front door. George was convinced he didn't look older, even though he had never been carded. Ever.

Usually it was Adam who bought it for you, even though both Matty and Ross were also already 18. Matty had already been banned from most liquor stores in the area, so he proved rather useless in situations needing a bit of booze.

Mattys violent knocks against the flat door brought you back to reality

“C’MON OPEN UP ITS US,” his voice booms through the hallway. You can hear banging and shuffling coming from the other side of the door. It's so obviously Ross bumping into every available surface because he hadn't turned on the light yet. He was an avid day sleeper, mostly working night shifts. A particularly loud crash is followed by glass breaking.

Matty taps his foot impatiently, waiting for the door to finally open. Ross emerges, looking disgruntled and tired of Mattys shit.

“Mate, tell me, what possessed you to come knocking about at this hour, don't you have school-? I swear you're going to be the end of me one day” he rubs his eyes, getting the sleep out of them before moving out of the way to let the three of you in.

“First of all, it's like 11am, so not exactly the ungodly hour you were describing,” Matty starts “Second of all, we’ve been kicked out of class, so where better to come than here?”

The inside of the flat reeks of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Ross refuses to smoke on the terrace, deeming it too cold even in the middle of summer. Adam always smokes on the terrace, scared of staining the walls like in those addiction documentaries. A futile attempt, but at least he tries. Matty immediately lights a fag, sighing happily when the nicotine hit his system. School had always been an endurance test for him. Getting him to sit still for 2 hours without going for a cigarette proved nearly impossible. He was already itching by the 45 minute mark.

“What did you even do to get kicked out before 12?” He looks at George, who tells him exactly what happened with tears of laughter in his eyes. Matty rolls his before sitting down on the comforter located to the left of the TV, ashing into one of the various ashtrays situated around the house. George sits on the sofa next to Ross, and you make your way to your favorite spot, the table. Sitting cross legged on the table made you all face each other, which you quite liked.

“Brew?” George asks, looking up from his Ipod. Everyone nods, and he gets up to put on the kettle. Idle conversation fills the air, and Matty starts chatting about the new “groundbreaking” Metallica album. Matty was, if anything, a music snob. No one could stop him raving on about albums or artists, whether he was praising or criticizing them. Once he started, you couldn't stop him to save your life.

Minutes tick past when George brings back mugs of tea. Mattys mug has got the words “I ❤️ cum” on it. Ross has his usual Macclesfield Town mug, and you and George have the plain green ones Adam bought in an attempt to make the flat seem somewhat civilized.

Hours pass and Matty finally shuts up. You end up on top of him, sitting on the arms of the comforter. You're all watching Skins on the telly, and Mattys hand makes its way to your back, keeping you steady. He’d always been touchy like that, so it didn't bother you. You look at the sofa and see Ross passed out, drooling onto George's jumper. George, polite as ever, lets him sleep. It was a miracle Ross hadn't started snoring already.

You suggest to Matty that maybe it was time to get going, seeing as you lived on the other side of the city. George's place was right around the corner, so he decided to stay and look after Ross a bit before Adam got home from his shift. Britain's sweetheart.

Getting up as quietly as possible, making your way towards the door. Ross stirs as Matty almost knocks over his mug. The two of you make eye contact, silently laughing at Ross’ position, basically on top of George. He flipped you off, rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote, turning down the telly.

It was still fairly dark inside, so gathering everything proved a bit of a challenge. The curtains were drawn shut, the yellow material of them painting the house in a warm yellow hue.

You had spotted Mattys flowery bag in the corner next to the stove, and grabbed it along with a bottle of cola that was set on top of the kitchen counter. Hydration was important, after all, even if you knew Adam would be livid that you were stealing his shit again. What are mates for?

Matty grabbed both of your coats, mouthing “lets go,” before making his way towards the front door.

The bright light of the hallway burns your eyes. How do they survive coming out here when that fucking flat is always so dark? You think to yourself. You wonder if Ross has a vitamin D deficiency from the inherent lack of sunshine in his life, yourself excluded.

The bus ride home is rowdier, filled with kids from surrounding schools. The both of you hid in a corner towards the front, away from the dickheads that usually sat in the back row. You were both too tired to deal with anyone but each other.

He was right, everything did smell like jimmy choo now, and maybe you shouldn't have sprayed so much.

His hand wanders to his eyes, rubbing a bit of the eyeshadow off.

“Does it still look alright?” he asks, looking up from your lap. It had smudged a bit, melted off after a full day of wear. It's not like you used your expensive waterproof stuff, after all.

“You look fine, pretty actually,” You give him a tired smile, stroking his hair absentmindedly

“Can you even call a guy pretty? Isn't that, like, inherently degrading?” Matty mutters, a grin spreading onto his face.

“It's only degrading if you let it be. You Matthew Healy, are pretty. Pretty like a girl”

A laugh escapes you, imagining Matty as a woman. Knowing him, he’d be into it.

“Does it bother you? Y’know, me being feminine and wearing makeup.” The question surprises you. It's a rare thing seeing Matty this vulnerable. He doesn't care what other people think, but he does care what you think.

“You know I don't care, I actually prefer you this way.” you assure him.

“Though it's still my mission to convince you that the backpack is not the move you think it is.”

That earns you a frown from Matty. “It is! I'll let you know the lady at the store told be it very in this time of year” its always funny watching him get defensive over his fashion choices, even if he knows he’s fucked up and its hideous.

“Yeah maybe it's trendy... for 8 year old girls! But you do you mate, don't let me judge you,” that gets you an elbow to the gut.

The walk home is one you always take together. Arms hooked into each other, walking, sharing headphones. It's your turn on the music, putting on ‘This Charming Man’ by the smiths.

“You know, Morrissey sort of reminds me of you. You're really similar in your campness” Matty choked on air, shooting you a faux offended look.

“Did you seriously call Morrissey camp? He'd have your head for that.”

“You're both attention slags, so there's at least one similarity.” Matty doesn't say anything, knowing your words do, in fact, ring true. Matty loves attention, and man, is good at getting it.

He draws people to him like moths to a flame. Always the loudest, always the most interesting.

That one saying; “You can't be the prettiest girl at the party, but you always be the drunkest” is a personification of Matty. He tips back wine glass after wine glass, not caring about the stains on his shirt or the red ring around his lips. He then makes it a poor Hanns job to make sure he doesnt get into a scrap with three much bigger guys (which actually did happen last summer outside of a pub in london. Matty got out scot free, while Adam nearly suffered a heart attack).

You hug Matty goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek.

You always dreaded coming home.

They say your biggest critic is your mind, but yours was your mother. You knew she had already gotten a call from the school saying you cut class. The moment you stepped into the living room, the yelling started. “How can you do this” and “What are you even doing with your life” turned into “Look at yourself, you look like a whore and you're going to school like that?” or “Were you out with that little gay boyfriend of yours again?”

You try to tune it out, not letting it get to you. She's been like that for as long as you can remember, never letting up for even just a second. You weren't the best kid, but she sure isn't helping you “get on the right track” as she liked to say.

Tears well up in your eyes when you finally shut your bedroom door. Your first instinct is to call Matty. He picks up after two rings, immediately hearing the quiver in your voice.

He tells you he’ll be there as soon as he can.

Minutes pass by slowly until you hear a familiar, although uncharacteristically soft, knock at your window. Matty.

Your puffy eyes meet his and he can tell you’d been crying. No words were exchanged as he took you into your arms, his hands soothingly stroking your hair as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. It broke his fucking heart to see you like this. You were extensions of each other, the others' pain was always your own.

“It's all so shit. Why cant she just be normal one fucking time.” your voice audibly shakes, partially out of anger and partially out of exasperation.

“I know i suck, I know I'm a bad daughter but-,” Matty cuts you off. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” His words only make you cry harder.

He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the sound of his voice similar to the way he spoke to you that night. His hands feel cold against your skin, and you know he’d rushed to your house without grabbing his coat. You look up at him, seeing his hair was unruly, curls falling into his face. The blonde highlights littered his dark hair and he ran his hand through them, brushing them to the side to get a better look at you.

“D’you want to sit down? We can listen to music. Whatever you want, and won't even comment on how shit it is, promise,” He knew you didn't want to talk about it then, you never did.

You sit in silence, your face still in his chest, staining the light blue material of his shirt. You quietly apologize, knowing how much he loves that shirt. He tells you to shut up, and that it didn't matter.

He had gotten it in Barcelona at some tourist shop for 50 quid. Insane price for a tshirt that just said “Barcelona” on it, but he held it dear to his heart. It reminded him of his childhood summers.

“There's a bottle of um…,” you trail off, gesturing to the second drawer of your nightstand. Matty understands, and reaches over you to open it. The drawer is filled with half eaten granola bars, bracelets, jewelry, the odd vape for when it was too cold to go outside. Matty always took the piss out of you for having them, saying they were ‘so fucking girly it hurt’. After a second of rummaging, he took out a half drunk bottle of Bacardi. It always sat in your nightstand for when you needed it, and you definitely needed it now.

“Only you'd have a giant bottle of rum in your nightstand,” Matty says softly, searching your expression. The corners of your mouth tug upwards at his words, and you crack a smile.

He opens it for you, and grabs an abandoned cup from your desk. The cup he had gifted you on your 17th birthday. It was covered in flowers and stars, very Matty. Very you. Pouring a healthy amount into the glass, he hands it to you.

“To shitty situations” He raises it, clinking it against your cup. He takes a swig straight from the bottle. You down the whole thing in one go, wincing as the alcohol burns down your throat.

“You feel better?” he asks, pouring more into your cup. You nod, before taking another drink. “I just need to get drunk and forget,” you sigh. Matty starts to speak again.

“That's an unhealthy way to go about it. Soon enough I'll be picking you up from corners because you can't handle your liquor. It's a recipe for alcoholism, innit?” you cackle at his words prompting Matty to raise his eyebrows at you.

“Oh come off it!,” How many times have you been so drunk you couldn't find your own dick if you tried. Sort yourself out before criticizing my drinking habits.” you scoff

You decide ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis is the right soundtrack for the night. You lay down next to Matty, your shoulders and thighs touching each other. You look up fondly at the dozens of yellow stars littering your ceiling. Reminiscent of your early childhood, you couldn't bear to take them down. You still felt like a child, your heart yearning for the same innocence you no longer possessed. A distinct naïveté you missed dearly. After your breakup with Phillip you'd realized that the world wasn't all it was cut out to be. People wanted, and they took. It didn't matter to them if they hurt others, because as long as they were satiated, nothing else mattered.

You turn to your left, draping your arm over Mattys stomach. He let out a deep breath, raising his right arm to draw light circles onto your back. His nails had grown out longer than usual, but the sharpness of them was comforting through the thin material of your tank top. The edge of your small twin bed dug into your back.

The two of you laid like that for hours before sleep took over your body. The stars on the ceiling blurred as your eyes started to shut. You let out a soft hum, settling into Matty even more, holding him close.

You don't know how long he stayed, but he was gone when you woke up. You feel a sticky note attached to your forehead, the glue rubbing off on your skin. You could barely read Mattys erratic handwriting. The note read: you fell asleep, hope your hangover isn't as bad as mine. left you some Advil on your dresser xx.

Your hand reached next to you, feeling two tablets. You wash them down with water from the sink. Your cell phone lights up with a text from George

“We’re meeting at Hanns flat, be there in 30,”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The windows were rolled up, trapping the smoke inside. Your eyes were glazed over, barely able to make out Ross’ face in front of you. Watching as Matty took another hit, you made a ‘give it here’ motion at the zoot, prompting him to hand it to you. Rhianna blared through the radio, a far cry from Adams usual taste in music, but no one seemed to care. Even Matty had managed to keep his mouth shut, instead moving his head in time with the music.

Adam was sitting in the driver's seat, as always. He’d never let anyone else drive his girl, not even Ross. He was insanely protective over his car, even if it was an old piece of junk.

George was in the passenger seat, holding a pink, polka dotted ashtray in his hand. The colorful ceramic proved quite the contrast against his dark clothes and messy blonde hair. It was a gift from his older sister, and the only ashtray he ever used.

You were perched in the middle seat, your elbows on the console between Adam and George. Matty sat on your right, and Ross on your left.

“No joke, I once had a bird offer to give me a footjob. Can you imagine that?” Adam spoke loudly, almost too loud. Ross let out a disgusting snort, the mental image of Adam getting a footjob making him properly lose it. You make a face.

“That can't feel good at all, innit? Aren't the soles of feet rough?” you ponder. “Only if you have George's hobbit feet, that is,” Matty said, ducking to avoid yet another lighter being chucked at him. You were going to run out of lighters at this rate.

“I'll show you hobbit feet you fucking cunt,” George retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child.

“I had a girl once who wanted me to properly bite down on her nipples, like hard. Can't imagine how much that would've hurt.” you share. She’d been quite the odd one up until she was in your bed, so you were already expecting some sort of weird kink. Nipple biting was definitely not on that list. Not that you were kink shaming.

George spoke first: “What d’you mean girl? You're telling me you've been with girls?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Erm, yeah? Didn't I tell you-?” Everyone shook their heads except Matty. You had already told him this story months before, the both of you laughing at your misfortune. Smiling at the fond memory, you meet Ross’ eye.

“We didn't know you were like, proper gay,” he says quietly, not wanting to sound abrasive. You suck in a deep breath before answering. “I'm not proper anything, and besides,” you point at Matty sitting next to you, “This one’s snogged loads of blokes.” A collective “What???” fills the car, with everyone's eyes now on Matty.

“What if I have? It's not my job to notify you of all my sexual endeavors, innit?” Matty looks slightly uncomfortable, giving you a look. You frown at him, and he shakes his head. Slight signs of a smile linger on his face. It's fine he mouths at you, resting his arm on your shoulder.

The three of them talk loudly over each other, with Ross asking some very explicit questions on the mechanics of gay sex.

“How do you even, like, properly shag? It's not like you have anything you can shove into the other girl,” Jesus christ.

Matty taps Ross’ shoulder, bringing the attention to his hands. He brings them up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out between the V-shape his fingers had made. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the whole demonstration makes Ross visibly cringe.

The car suddenly starts. Adam makes the short drive to Carolines, stating that the hotbox was getting to be too much for him. George has a go at his age, calling him an old man. Hann was in fact, about 2 and a half years older than George, and a solid year older than the rest of you. Old man was right.

You had rolled down the window on Mattys side, hoping some fresh air would help Adams driving skills. The erratic swerving had begun to make you sick.

Finally trugding up the stairs to the terrace, Matty says something about it being too fucking cold. Ross says “That's the price of being built like a male Kate Moss,” and Matty nearly shoves him down the stairs.

It is colder than usual, and you had opted for a dark gray zip up, the material hugging you tightly. You were pretty sure it was Mattys. A pair of green wash jeans hung low, revealing the lightning bolt tattoo on your right hip bone. It was a copy of Bowie's on the cover of ‘Aladdin Sane’. You had gotten it done by another one of your mates, Rome, who was an aspiring tattoo artist. It looked a bit shit, the lines slightly crooked, but it was yours.

You had convinced George and Ross to carry the sofa from the office onto the terrace. They were the tallest and strongest, and Mattys arms would have snapped like twigs if he tried to carry anything, you said to them. George laughed his octave defying laugh, while Ross let out an annoyed grunt, shoving past you.

Adam was right behind them, carrying a small wooden coffee table. “For you- I know how much you hate sofas,” he says quietly. You called him a softy, but inevitably thanked him for bringing it out. He had his rare sweet moments, and you appreciate them

Once you had all settled, you took out your tobacco and papes, starting to roll your first cigarette of the night. You honestly needed a break from all the weed, because jesus.

Matty let out a groan, taking the piss out of you for bringing all that instead of just buying industrials.

“I know you think you're better than us for rolling, it's quite pretentious.” he sucks in a breath before talking, moving his hands erratically “Don't tell me it ‘tastes better’ because that's simply bollocks, it all tastes the same!”

“Pretentious? Her? That's rich coming from someone who raves on about William Burroughs like anyone knows who is!” Matty looks hurt, and you give Ross a look that says you really don't know who William Burroughs is?

The conversation continued without you, too preoccupied with rolling to add anything. All was well until George decided to open his giant mouth again.

“If you're not fully gay,” he started, “how do we know you're not secretly crushing on any of us?” he raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

You let out a snort, it slowly morphing into laughter until you look at him, his expression deadly serious.

“You can’t actually mean that?” your voice is slightly hoarse. “For all we know, you could be harboring secret affection for Matty with the amount of times you’ve slept in the same bed.”

Mattys perks up at this, shooting George a glare that could kill a man. He told him???

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe you were just groggy from the lingering hangover. You lick the cig closed, setting down next to the others. Uncrossing your legs, you get up and walk towards Matty. You can see the grin plastered onto his face, and he is definitely not sober.

You stumbled over Adam's foot, kicking it out of the way. Ross moved away from Matty, giving you some space.

The terrace was dark, but the moonlight illuminated some of Mattys features. Specifically, his eyes. They seemed to glow, following your every step toward him. I'll show you secret affection you thought to yourself when your hand made contact with Mattys face. The stubble on his chin scratched your fingers. He never could grow a beard, and the faint shadow was as long as it would get.

He sat with his legs spread, skin peaking out through the single rip in his jeans. His arms rested on the sofas back, splaying out to the side. He wore a black v-line jumper, the knit of it almost see-through.

The makeup from the previous day was still smudged on his face, giving him a rockstar-esque look. The eyeshadow framed his eyes, glittering in the faint light. Your hands cupped his face, lightly stroking his jaw. The grin had been wiped off his face the moment you had settled between his legs, kneeling on the edge of the sofa.

You didn't think, just moved, your lips smashing against each other. It seemed to take Matty by surprise, and it even took him a second before he kissed you back. One thing nagged at you. Why did you like it?

There was no time to think when you heard George wolf whistle at the both of you.

You want a show, I'll give you a show you thought, slipping in your tongue and taking over the kiss. He seemed into it, but then again, Matty would fuck anything with a pulse. You smile against his mouth at the thought. It suddenly felt hot, even though you were outside. His hand snaked its way into your hair, tugging slightly. This didn't feel platonic. Was it?

“Alright, alright, we didn't sign up for a porno,” Ross says, his hand covering his mouth. You were the one who broke the kiss. Matty let out a soft groan when you parted, loud enough for only you to hear. His eyes pierced yours, and you moved to get off of him.

Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, and you felt dizzy. What the fuck?

You wiped your mouth, your lipgloss having smeared all over your face. Wiping the back of your sticky hand against the sofa, you turned and walked back to your spot on the table.

“See! Absolutely no ‘secret affection’ as George so kindly put it.” you say to the group, going back to your pile of fags, taking one and lighting it. If you had looked at Matty instead of being preoccupied with Hanns bickering about the prissy new manager, you would have noticed a faint shade of red caressing his cheeks. He felt around for his own cigarettes, and took out a pack of parliaments. Spotting the lighter next to you, he reached for it, lighting the cig as he inhaled the smoke eagerly.

It was already half two when the five of you finally piled back into Hanns car. The prominent stench of weed made you scrunch up your nose. You decide to light a cigarette in the car despite various protests and threats to your life if you even dared to ash onto the leather seats. Switching seats with Matty, you ash out the window instead, resting your head against the rim of the car.

Ross and George were having yet another meaningless debate on whether mixing ketchup and mayo was a cardinal sin or totally acceptable. Every other word was an insult, and you knew they would never come to an agreement, ever.

You had already established that you’d be sleeping over at Mattys, saving Adam time and petrol not having to drive both of you home separately. Denise and Tim were out on a press tour, so he had the house to himself.

His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. If you knew Matty, you knew he hated the big light with a burning passion. Instead, a small lamp was turned on in the corner, illuminating the various posters that littered his wall. Band posters, prints, tapestries, the occasional quote. Everything screamed Matty

His room was filled with so much music. CD’s, vinyls, even the odd cassette tape. His purple record player sat on top of a dresser next to his desk, surrounded by various small trinkets of his. It was his prized possession, a gift from his mother for his 14th birthday.

You had already helped yourself to a cola from his fridge downstair. His house was huge, way bigger than your own. Your parents weren't actors, after all. The walls of his room were stained towards the corners, just another side effect of Mattys near constant chain smoking. His bed was big, and you both fit comfortably on it. The wardrobe next to it had a pile of your own clothes in it, but none to sleep in. Your eyes dart around the room looking for one of his to wear, landing on his bright pink durex t-shirt. He had worn it once to school, promptly getting kicked out of literature class by a very conservative Mrs. Sexton.

Soft music was playing in the background as you unloaded your bag onto Matty’s insanely cluttered desk. Out came multiple pens, makeup, not one, not two, but three lighters, and finally, makeup wipes.

You sat on the ground in front of his full length mirror, wiping at your eyes and face. Matty was making the bed, giving the both of you each your own duvet, a must after too many fights over the blanket. You weren't a peaceful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, occasionally even kicking Matty in the back.

Washing your face, you hear the bathroom door click open. Matty went and sat on the closed toilet lid next to you.

“Hand me my toothbrush, will you? And some toothpaste.” he asked, stretching his hand out. You do, even wetting the toothbrush for him.

He sat there, brushing his teeth and flipping through a recent issue of playboy while you put moisturizer on, and then a serum.

“I dont get how you can be arsed to put all that shit on your face, it takes way too long,” his comment makes you roll your eyes at him in the reflection.

“Not everyone is naturally blessed with clear skin like you, people like me have to put effort into their appearance, knobhead.” A wave of insecurity hits you as you inspect the acne on your face.

You had been a chronic face picker in your early teenage years, and the consequences of that were gnarly acne scars covering most of your face. They were not prominent, but they were there.

Matty was fortunate enough to have had maybe three zits ever, his clear skin the stuff of dreams.

Matty watches you pick yourself apart in the mirror. He hated when you did that. It made his heart ache in his chest. He wished you could see what he saw. What did he see?

“You’re quite beautiful, really,” he says, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You’re taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. You open your mouth to speak.

“Oh bugger off,” you say, your voice breathy and annoyed. You didn't want to sound annoyed, it just came out that way.

Matty raises both his hands in defeat, and spits the toothpaste into the toilet bowl, flushing. The hairbands sitting on the bathroom counter eventually end up in your hair, holding together two braids on either side of your face. You stare at the mirror one more time, examining yourself. The pink fabric of your (well, Mattys) shirt clung to you like it did Matty. Taking off your bra, you go back into his room. He had changed into a loose Kiss t-shirt and black boxers. The light of the corner lamp helped you find your phone, sitting on the nightstand next to you.

The atmosphere was calm, calm enough that you’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Almost.

Matty reached over to turn the lamp off, lighting a candle for light. Cinnamon.

“You know it's dangerous to sleep with candles lit? We could catch on fire and die,” Matty had rolled over on his side, now facing you. A grin spread onto his face.

“If it kept me from ever seeing Hanns ugly mug ever again, i’d gladly let cinnamon spice scented flames burn me to death,”

You giggle at his words. Poor Adam, always taking the worst of Mattys jokes, if you could even call them that. Accepting his decision to keep the candle lit, you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes shut and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies, really? Jesus fucking christ.

You're scared to open your eyes, scared to even look at Matty. Maybe it was a mistake. He's your best mate. That kiss didn't mean anything, especially not to him.

A million thoughts race through your head, and you shove them into a small corner of your mind. Ignore ignore ignore, it didn't mean anything. He's just some wanker who picked you up at a bus stop three years ago and somehow became your best mate. He's just some guy you share a bed with sometimes. He's just some guy who lights your spliffs for you. He's just some guy who you kissed on a terrace overlooking the city.

Fuck.

#look at me trying to write #cringe #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #drive like i do #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #matty healy fluff #slow burn #eventual smut #friends to lovers #fallingforyou #dlid #matty healy x you

136 notes · View notes