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noturvlentine · 10 months

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a stranger under the skin (pt3)

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Leon Kennedy x reader series

Summary [series]- after Chris Redfield has requested for your transfer from the BSAA, you’re tasked with uncovering a chain of bio-terrorist attacks alongside Leon Kennedy. Destruction, duty and your untold past brings you spiralling into an unlikely bond with your partner, as efforts are made and promises are broken.

I APOLOGISE FOR TEMPORARILY GOING AWOL!!!! I’m back now and this series is gonna keep up bc I really want to write for it and have been!!!

OKAY, I know Chris didn’t technicality command SOUs before 2009, but for the sake of the story let’s pretend that it fits in somewhere with the plot- or history, because it makes sense somehow that there’s this loss dynamic or prior stoicism from her job. And because why not- but yea that’s it.

alcohol, pills, violence in the near future and basically all that stuff

1.3k words

previous part (2)

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Target Location

Eastern Europe

2009

11:00AM

You had arrived to your escort well into the dawn of the next day, probably because of the subsequent European timezone but the sudden change in light wasn’t of your concern as time was measured strictly in numbers, as you’d say. It had been a good while since you got the chance to admire the sunrise, it was quite late for the tail end of winter and last you could remember, it definitely looked better than the clouds of sand swallowing your view in South America. This sudden breeze of peacefulness also had you wondering when the last time you flew out in a civilian aircraft was. Maybe that’s why you never slept on transport because you were always shoved into the stomach of an Osprey or a CH-47 and what not. Leon had remained quiet, there was something brewing between the two of you that lacked of mutual understanding. Maybe it was better this way, the only important thing is that you needed to work well enough together to get the job done. That’s all. No hard feelings.

Somewhere in Eastern Europe

STRATCOM Safe house

2009

11:30AM

The car ride to the safe house was surprisingly uneventful. You’d half expected the car to explode and flip over some ten times and this operation would backfire with you and Leon heading home early, in comfortable black bags to no one’s condolences. At least that was how it was for you. God knows about Leon, the guy can’t seem to catch a break yet refuses to die. The city was well kept, not modern enough to suite the Americans yet not of great heritage at the heart. Another disposable sight for terrorism, seeing as no one expected to get a great amount of attention in a small Eastern European city, yet they only seemed to have sent the two of you. Your escort, a quiet man of no specific organisation at glance, cleared your departure through the back alley to a modest, yet somewhat unoccupied apartment building. The back entrance was between two large bins and a couple water tanks servicing the unit. The door was heavy and swung shut behind you, there wasn’t an elevator, only the quiet hum in the upward staircase lit by a square, graticule skylight around six floors up. You stepped into the beam of light and stared straight at it, the sky turning grey and boring by the time the morning fully rendered. Leon stopped beside you, following his gaze upwards to inquire yours. You could hear his hand fishing out the set of keys to your unit from his jacket pocket.

‘So they gave you the keys huh?’ You joked, breaking the silence, somewhat offended that no one had filled you in about breaking in and entering. You simply received a short laugh back as Leon headed up the stairs, his boots tapping softly and rhythmically up the stairs. Your unit was on the fourth floor, a one bedroom flat facing the street, which was mostly empty despite it already being well into the day. All the equipment was already packed into heavy duty cases stacked up in the corner, a replacement Christmas tree with everything you could possibly need- tactically that is, along with supplies that was meant to last you both for more than enough time. None of you bother to turn the lights on as your bags are dumped onto one of the couches facing the window, a cloud of dust flakes up from the couch but Leon doesn’t think twice before sitting down. You turn your back to him as you make your way closer to the windows, standing just around the frame enough to have a full view of the area, scanning your surroundings. Funny how the first thing that stuck was planning out your escape from a possible war zone, or apartment block or whatever. By now you’ve got it all mapped out-

The alley by the corner store, a fire hatch to the left of your window, another route behind the sixth parking meter and-

‘I could get used to this you know,’ you tried to ignore Leon’s statement of amusement. But instead, to your own surprise and credibility you reply with a sarcastic ‘yeah?’ and receive a hum from Leon.

‘Yeah, they got nice damn equipment and a comfortable place to hide out, best they’ve done if you ask me. Mustn’t be an easy job then.’ He’s casual, and it doesn’t sit well with you.

‘This is such a fucking domestic job.’ You snark, flicking your head around and turning back away from the window.

‘And does that make you uncomfortable?’ Leon questions, or rather, rhetorical, because he knows you’d rather be suffering out in the field under the scorching sun carrying 10kg of solid gear trying your best not to catch a bullet or two. You don’t reply, but simply glare straight at him heavily, arms crossed, to which Leon only returns a friendly smile ambiguous of sarcasm but ultimately understanding. You blink once, then turn on your heels over to the stack of heavy duty cases to fetch the debrief. The pile of documents slaps the glass coffee table hard as Leon glances at the memo before turning his head up to look at you, standing on the other side.

‘Do we wanna start or wait until someone blows our door down?’

It was probably around 21:00PM when the two of you had finished assessments and any additional planning after going through the memo a few more times. Dinner was a couple of protein bars and some green bottled substance probably beneficial to your health, who knows. All your belongings and sheets of paper was piled up on the coffee table, at some point you had gotten up to close the curtains and switch on the lights, but that felt like an eternity ago. You were staring at the ceiling with your head over the back of the couch when you head Leon rattle something metal in his hands. Your head was heavy and you’d blinked the rest out of your eyes and sat up to face Leon, who was now taking a swig at something from a small flask. Leon let the lid hang out to the side which for some reason your eyes settled on to, then back up to meet his gaze. You couldn’t blame him honestly, you’d taken something to numb the nerves some short hours ago to which the small capsule containing those pills were now peaking out under a few sheets of paper.

‘I’m not an alcoholic, don’t worry.’ He said, satirically over a warm grin.

‘You know you shouldn’t be drinking on the job’ you implied, signalling at the vessel tucked between his hands.

‘Oh yea? Well you aren’t any better there’ he nodded towards the bottle of pills on the coffee table.

‘Well don’t worry, I’m not a drug addict.’you teased. Leon laid back into the couch, his hand with the flask resting between his legs, staring at you comically, eyebrows raised and all.

He wasnt convinced

‘We all have our excuses Leon.’ You smiled, half heartedly.

He took another sip of his liquor, this time, resting it on the table before leaning back again.

‘And for the record, im not insane either.’ You added jokingly.

‘Well I sure disagree with that.’ He laughed. ‘No one willingly goes through the same hoard of papers six times in the same afternoon.’

AN: I’m back, and I didn’t know what to do with that chapter but hope it kicks things off again. I’m on vacation early atm so updates will be coming!!!!

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x oc #leon kennedy angst #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil x you #chris redfeild x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy x you #resident evil angst #leon s kennedy x y/n #resident evil

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noturvlentine · 11 months

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im sorry about my frail state of mind

matty healy x reader based on this request

sorry for the inactivity but yes, i am alive and posting, i thought I’d just put this one out because it been sitting there unfinished and I apologise for the wait!!! I also didnt proof read this so there might be some errors. i know i normally write in second person but i thought i might switch it up :)

Do not copy my stuff elsewhere but reblogs are appreciated 🖤

Summary- after being stuck in a relationship, a certain friend of Matty’s finally snaps after surrendering to the exhaustion of touring with the band and Matty is there to comfort her.

alcohol? reader is a she and lots of angst. Implied unhealthy relationship. the girl mentioned is a part of the band :)

1.9k words

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As soon as the set came to a close, she’d followed the rest of the band backstage as Matty and the boys were still taking their final moments, tossing picks and thanking the fans for being there. She’d left her guitar to be dealt with by the stage crew and the moment her body hit the darkness backstage, she felt the piercing sting of exhaustion hit her.

How the fuck does matty do this obnoxious act for weeks on end?

In truth, he doesn’t. The band knows full well that Matty isn’t at his best on tour but that’s just the reality, one he can’t run from because he wouldn’t be able to live with his own mind in retirement. She passed all their equipment stands which were already being packed into cases, and made her way into the corridor of the green rooms. The girl’s mind wandered, never fully settling on something before being annoyed by her own thoughts and purely just pissed off because of her growing exhaustion. She’d haphazardly passed the cases in the hallway, and made her way to their green room lounge. They’d been touring non stop for two months now, after recovering from their last leg of the tour. She wasn’t exhausted and annoyed because of the tiring after hours and fraudulent sleep schedules, she wasn’t tired because they had to play shows almost every night, nor was it because she was sick of anyone on tour- Well that wasn’t entirely true. After running around for a year and thinking she’d fallen head over heels for the glow of blue eyes and smirk of teeth, she never quite got the memo that her boyfriend was their new stage manager- stage manager assistant, to be exact. It was probably because they’d met through the actual stage manager, and she’d toured with The 1975 since god knows when, and having known Matty since he was fired from Cafe Nero, she really didn’t want to be anywhere else. Her presence was made known in the green room as she fell limp onto one of the couches, and after a brief moment of stillness, she rolled herself far enough to grab a beer from the coffee table.

“That lighting hit you too hard?” A voice from the other corner of the room taunted her exhaustion. Probably Jaime, or John even, she couldn’t tell anyone’s voices apart when all that’s ringing in her ears were the swirling hazes of intolerance. No response. The figure then laughs and plops down the the couch opposite her resting place. A moment of brief silence leads her to drag herself upright, sitting on the couch with her head draping on its back and beer bottle in hand dangling between her legs. John looks up from his phone (though she hasn’t yet noticed it was John in the room), and huffs in pity. Being in a band was never easy, thought being in a band with your best mates made it both harder and easier, it wasn’t something all too glamorous. And before the girl could properly rest her eyes for than a minute, George’s squawking laughter comes echoing down the corridor. She’d argue that he loved the sound of his clowning giggle, but her head was too deep and in need for whatever suppressing pill she could get.

She could hear what was clearly Matty’s footsteps stop at the door, as the rest of the boys stumbled in and helplessly made their way over to the couches. Through the faint ringing and dilation in her ears, she hears him light a cigarette, before making his way to the couch opposite her.

“You ‘right?” His voice was dry and soft, which made her roll herself out of that semi-sober drunk state. She looks at him with half an eye open and like before, no answer. Matty simply takes that as a sign he shouldn’t push anything on to her, she knows that he cares and he doesn’t want to find himself in the line of her potential bullets. The gun was cocked but there hadn’t been anyone pretentious enough to put their finger on the trigger-

That’s until some unknowing stage manager’s assistant takes his stride into the room. Matty could see him behind the couch she was sitting on, he walked passed the mirror and set his clipboard down onto the naked vanity. What the boy does next doesn’t surprise Matty, though he doesn’t feel the need to walk over and disarm the weapon. Matty never liked her boyfriend, he didn’t hate him no, nor did he had any strong biased towards the annoying witty blond they’d been stuck with. Matty watches as he comes around the back of her couch, stopping behind where she sat as to not find himself tangled up in George’s smoke. He leans over the back of the couch to look at his girlfriend- Matty’s friend, she doesn’t hold his gaze but instead lifts the bottle up to her lips but is quickly stopped. He slips it out of her hand, and at that moment Matty knew that he’d probably- most likely, fucked up. She doesn’t snap like Matty expected, but instead the boy puts the bottle down on the floor and then rests his elbows on the back of the couch. He brings a hand to the far side of her face and brings it to look at him. She flinches, both pissed and unwilling to even make eye contact with him. That boy really set himself up to burial and when he doesn’t get the memo that his girlfriend wants nothing to do with him, he tries again.

“Fuck off.” She says, stern and tired, unwilling to put up any defence. He looks- offended almost, but definitely not confused.

“What?” He accuses, as if he hasn’t already figured it out. And when she doesn’t answer him, her name slips out of his mouth in full demand and wanting to talk. To Matty’s surprise, he watches as she pulls herself to stand up, walking around the couch to grab the bottle from the floor and storms (in a silent, undetected manner) past the arrogant twat. If Matty weren’t so worried with his friends well-being, and everyone’s safety, he’d be laughing right now, but no one else seemed to have really noticed or thought anything of her departure, that was until the blond spun around and followed after her. George looked up from his phone and furrowed his brows to the empty space beside him, then turned his gaze over to Matty, who was now sitting next to a confused Ross and John. Adam, who was crouched on a stool beside the vanity, felt the concern silence radiating from the lounge as he too turned to the boys. They proceeded to hear what sounded like a ‘fuck you’ followed by an incoherent male voice stumbling after her. That was enough to have Matty off the couch and over to the door as everyone’s eyes trailed him. Matty poked his head out the door quietly, assessing the state of their mess.

“You’ve been coming into the hotel room every night like your fucking job here is finished, expecting me to fuck you when the only thing you fucking respect is how good your job looks.” She was yelling at him. Matty had never heard her yell, in the same fury driven, resigning matter- in fact, Matty had barely heard her yell in anger at all in the two decades they’d known each other.

They were at the end of the hallway, two doors down from the exit, the buzz of the overhead lights meant that they were in no position to hide from his view.

“And when have I done that to you?” He snarks.

“You’ve been doing it for the past- fucking six months! We have breaks for a reason and I’m not about to give you a shag whenever you want!”

It was blatantly obvious to anyone who could read basic human emotion, that her voice was on the verge of cracking as a lump in Matty’s throat began to grow- not a very good sign to anyone with half a brain.

“You’re unbelievable-“ he sighs in annoyance, turning his head in directions to look at anything but her. She was defeated from the beginning, now running her hand down her face and back up to rub her eyes. It probably took too long for Matty to make his way down the hall, George had also twitched to this action, seeing as his best mate no longer had his foot in the room as he himself contemplated getting up to help with the situation but instead received a stern look from Ross across to him. He shook his head at George as to not follow Matty into the fire, not because Ross didn’t care, but it’s unspoken that you don’t go running into another bloke’s fire unless the situation were to escalate any further.

By the time Matty reached them in the hallway, he was sure the blond was ready to open his mouth and tell Matty to ‘get her to shut the fuck up’, but he only pushed passed him and stormed off somewhere unseen. He also prepared himself to get a bottle thrown in his direction- not that she was drunk, but probably because it was logical for a pissed and tired person to lash out at anyone in rage. That and or- start crying. He’d never seen her condone that type of violence- with the exception of some dickhead at a bar back in 2012 trying to get on Matty’s nerves (who ended up with her fist in his face and a knee to the crotch, followed by her robbing him of his drink for the hell of it) and the occasional threats if she was ever gaming in the studio.

Matty hadn’t said anything as she managed to slip out a defeated laugh, before turning the back of her hand to rub her eyes.

“What a dick-“ she said, almost mockingly but with the same type of sorrow as before, leaning her head back to the wall and avoiding Matty’s eyes. One look at him and she could probably start sobbing uncontrollably, but this wasn’t the space and he knew she had no right to make a bigger deal out of her exhaustion in front of the performer himself. Matty stepped in front of her and took his hand to the bottle she was holding, squeezing her hand a little so that she’d let go of it. He put it on the floor beside him and looked up to the sight of her sore and glassy eyes.

“Yeah, what a sleaze bag he is hey?” He gently smiled (yet still internally bothered by it, though avoiding any opportunities to display it on his face as to not worry his already defeated friend) and opened his arms for her as she surrendered to his embrace, her arms slung lazily around his waist as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Matty stood there with her in his arms, rocking on the sides of his feet as she shifted her head to the side, producing an audible sniff as the tears started down her tinted cheeks. Matty shifted his fingers to the ends of her hair, offering some sort of comforting motion when he twirled a strand around his index finger.

“Hey, we can talk ‘bout it, if you want.” He was met with a long pause and a weak hum.

“You’re welcome to stay in my room tonight.” He offered, almost like a whisper. She nodded and lifted her gaze to look at him, her eyes red and her lashes bound together in tick points from the tears.

“We should go-“ she whispered, her voice like cracked glass and quiet. Matty could only return a look of delicate smile and assurance.

AN: SORRY, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WAS MEANT TO END THAT. I know the request was more of a ‘hang out’ type thing, but I was tired, and I’m back- so why not make it a little angsty

#matty healy x reader #the 1975 fic #matty healy x y/n #matty healy #george daniel #matty healy fic #george daniel x reader #adam hann #ross macdonald #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 x reader #request

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noturvlentine · 11 months

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hey hey no rush about it but im obsessed with a angsty/fluff between George and the reader, maybe she's feeling lonely after a bad day so goes with him to the studio (?) anyways no rush at all ! love ur content

ofc!!! idk how good I am at matching your request to my brain but I’ll keep that on the list :)

It might be a while before it gets posted but this is one I’ll definitely put up ☺️

#the 1975 fic #george daniel #george daniel x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy #adam hann #ross macdonald #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fanfic

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noturvlentine · 11 months

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Any chance u would ever write some Ross stuff?

I would love to, but not atm 😅. i don’t think I’d be able to write something good if I weren’t into it 100% tho. Love Ross!!!! maybe in the future 🥹

I’ll do more Ross features that’s for sure :)))

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noturvlentine · 11 months

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im taking time to respond to requests ☺️!!

it’s been so hectic atm with assignments and shit so sorry for the slow updates.

Yes I am considering writing a part 2 for this Matty Healy fic which will also be potentially inspired by a Jeff Buckley song (because I just can’t help but think of all the ways of heartbreak)!!

#matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #the 1975 fic #matty healy #the 1975 x reader #george daniel #george daniel x reader #adam hann #ross macdonald

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noturvlentine · 11 months

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im not someone to miss (pt2)

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Leon Kennedy x reader series

im back! sorry I haven’t been as alive as the past two weeks, school has really caught wind of assignments but updates are coming!!!!! Bear with me while I write up the rest of my vague plans for this series and I apologise if these time skips make no sense at all!!

Please don’t copy my work anywhere else!! this will be up in ao3 too!!! -j

1.9k words

part 1

part 3

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Washington DC

A particular apartment block

21:00PM

2009

You arrived home to a small, tactical grade duffle bag sitting on your doormat. You half-expected them to provide you with nothing more than necessary, but seeing as STRATCOM was no BSAA, their gear had been rather sophisticated to say the least. They had given you 400 hours to gather any intel from a country in Eastern Europe, which meant you had a little over two weeks stuck with Leon in some dusty safe-house apartment with minimal contact with anyone else (not like you had anyone worth reaching out to outside of work anyway). 400 hours- thats only if things went smoothly, in which, they never do. You’d be there for a month at the minimum guarantee and you were meant to escort a contact to a private exchange of resources they managed to snatch off the black market. If the deal went smoothly then at least the government can put their pretentious, expensive lab research to use with their hands on a sample of some B.O.W strains.

You managed to drag yourself into your apartment, keys thrown onto the kitchen counter as your first thought was to pour yourself a drink and burn a cigarette. You weren’t a drinker- correction, you weren’t an alcoholic, nor were you a smoker. It’s just that there was no one here to monitor you and you easily and cowardly blamed it on your job, but instead you just seemed to have revolved around whatever harmless substance was at your disposal for the time being- amongst other things. You’d always kind of lived your domestic life on autopilot, barely putting in a second thought to whether you actually needed to change the way you lived, whether you needed other things in your existence- or someone else, but who were you kidding, a pet maybe?. You were never the type to give someone a call back either- to be fair you never really stayed, hence why a drink and a smoke followed by a warm shower was all you really desired. You slumped yourself down on the chair at your dining table, not bothered turning any overhead lights on in return, just letting the gracious moonlight escape into the room. Your fingers traced the yellow folder you’d brought home from work today, the other hand going numb from the cold condensation of a beer bottle. You sat there for a good two hours, an unwise decision seeing as you still wanted to waste away in the shower and needed to be organised for departure tomorrow. Not to say, sleep wasn’t ever on your side either.

Under the sting of your hot shower, you couldn’t help but think of how exactly you ended up here. Eight long years of anti-bioterrorist service just for Redfield to temporarily ‘discharge’ you from the BSAA for your little let down back in South America (to be fair, no one had ever decided you were discharged, but the leave and subsequent transfer had been the equivalent of that in your eyes). Was he even going to let you back in on the field with him? You weren’t about to become an office personnel in your line of work after this mission, to be honest you thought it would be the hands-on equivalent of death- to spend years in training in both the military and special operations only to end up in the chain of responsive command for an XO you didn’t quite get along with. Not to mention- having to filter through everyone’s field reports and paperwork after Redfield just hypothetically offed the industrial section of a city. Nonetheless, you were at least grateful to still be working field for the time being, it may not be alongside Chris Redfield and the BSAA, but it was still something of the equivalent. You were enjoying what might be the last comfortable shower for the next month or so (something small to deal with considering the various lengthy deployments you’d been on previously), taking time to let the sprays of water loosen your muscles. If you were completely honest, you would enjoy a permanently domestic, normal civilian life either. Something simple as a long, warm shower would become tedious once it becomes frequented and unthreatened as civilians are. Maybe the loss in commodity value was an excuse for you to work this job until death. Or maybe death came closer, and maybe you’d already accepted that.

Your mind skipped to Leon, or rather what he was doing, then to what he’d think of you once he knew you too well (or if he ever will). After all, two weeks is a long time to be stuck with someone on your tail, in the same safe house flat, going over the same shit and waiting for something life threatening to occur. You’d feared that when you’d first gravitated towards the BSAA, scared that you were going to let someone in (arguably, you’d always defended Chris as your bond came from the sentimental value of your jobs) and that they were going to come to the inevitable realisation that you were both fucked and would soon wound up dead on the field somewhere. That was definitely something harder for others to compute, as you’d accepted your death ages ago and were only ever waiting for people the catch up, hence why you’d think Leon would actually hate you.

South America

BSAA outstation

14:00PM

December 2008

‘Fuck! Goddamn it!’ Chris throws his fist into the crumbly stone pillar to his right. ‘We are sending in backup immediately-‘

‘Redfield that is not of your command, we’re not taking that risk-‘ petty, for anyone to want to argue with Chris Redfield. He’s always been full charged if not spewing out electricity by the second in the heat of the moment, head and heart. There was no negotiation. He knew first hand how shitty it was to go into a mission without support, albeit you did have ‘support’, yes- but it was a matter of if the goddamn CO would agree.

‘I’m not asking. That is one of our best agents tied up in there and you’re not gonna find another.’ To anyone else that tone alone would have them pissing their pants running under Redfield’s control, maybe this was why everyone was always cleaning up after him.

‘I’m going in.’ He mumbled, a stern one, signalling to his team to pack it forwards beyond their assigned parameters.

‘Patch me through.’ The next thing you know, your name is repeated frantically over the comms. Redfield’s voice is stern, searching, worrisome, but stern in his best I-am-your-captain commandment way. As his voice became more desperate you managed to free a hand for the radio.

‘Chris you better turn the fuck around.’ You groaned through your teeth, dropping down to your knees behind a collapsed brick wall. There was currently a wave of bioterrorist minions on your six and a massive B.O.W making its way through the maze of collapses infrastructure ready to pull you head off your neck the moment you’re seen in the line of fire. They had dogs two, all three parties together would be more than the current BSAA deployment had issued in the area and the next few surrounding countries. It amazes you how much terrorism groups can out number the fucking military, how many people are willing to sign themselves up to suicide compared to those who enlist in the army. They’re probably not cowards like the rest of the world that’s for sure.

‘I can get you my final intel order but if you fucking surpass that parameter-‘

‘I am not leaving you out there.’

‘I’m dead! I’m fucking dead Chris!’

The line goes silent, you can hear him thinking over the static of the radio. He had no purpose in sending rescue, you were a valuable asset, but the job was finished and there was enough evidence for the FBC to deploy troops to other locations and carry out necessary protocols to prevent whole countries from collapsing. The South American sun was starting to get its way with you, there was dust thickening through the air and you could hear firing in the near distance, which was enough for you to pull yourself up from you current location. Shots fired, straight your way and heard through the radio. You were scrambling for shelter around this abandonment of a city block, you shad two magazines left which you knew wouldn’t last for nearly enough time before an evac squad gets here.

Washington DC

Joint Base Andrews

12:30PM

2009

The pilot had just announced takeoff over the PA system. You watched the runway shrink into small grey veins over patchy land as the plane gained altitude. You could also see Leon’s impulsive leg tapping in your peripheral vision, his eyes settled in examining your body language as you pretended not to notice. His arms were crossed, disinterested by anything outside or in the cabin as his mind was purely focused on figuring you out. Out of annoyance, you turn your head, dropping your hand which was once propping your chin up, onto the armrest by the window.

‘What?’ You blinked at Leon.

‘Nothing, you look tired.’ He simply shrugs. Well that’s little to say for someone who’s been peeling your complexion apart for the past five minutes. You don’t respond, dropping your gaze to his bouncing leg, which stops upon your eyes settling on it. Your hand was now wrapped tightly around the bulge of the armrest, fingers slowly digging into the fabric and picking at the seams. Something about Leon’s all-too-understanding way of looking at you just didn’t sit right. He wasn’t one to remind you of your troubles but in every way, he did, and you can’t blame him for that. A faint rustling sound traveled towards you as he shifted in his seat, now more relaxed as his head hung back towards the headrest, still arms crossed and looking at you softly. Oh how you wished a little turbulence would break up this awkward exchange, you couldn’t argue that there was anything interesting other than fogs of cloud infecting your view.

Three hours into the flight and it was approaching night across the time zones. You’d irresponsibly gone through two glasses of rum and coke to ease your nerves, to which earned you a scoff and hum of amusement from Leon. Thought he was insistent on getting more than three words out of you, there was nothing he could do about your isolated bitterness and he figured that you’d melt along with time. You watched as the sky had lost its sunset, turning into an inevitable, cartoonish night.

‘Get some sleep will you?’

No answer, you pouted and went back to staring out the window. The emptiness plagued the entire sky and all that could be seen was the annoying red eye on the wing of the plane. Leon pushed his following words back into his throat, and left it at that for the rest of the evening before your subsequent arrival. You watched as he quietly dozed off for the next two hours, leaving you with a sense of peripheral comfort.

AN: this chapter is a little slow i know, it’s getting there. I’m also trying to keep my formatting consistent but I’m not sure how well that’s working atm 😂

#resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x oc #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #chris redfeild x reader #chris redfield #resident evil angst #resident evil series #resident evil fanfiction

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noturvlentine · 1 year

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An encounter (pt 1)

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Leon Kennedy x reader series!!!!

hi!! bear with me while I attempt to write this little series i had going on in my head for a while- it might be 5-10 parts or so but im trying to see how long this narrative goes in terms of chapter length. EVERYTHING IS A WORK IN PROGRESS!!!

i might finalise and actual title for the series later but i thought it was nice to get the first chapter out while the rest unfolds in messy notes ive been taking down. I’ll definitely put the masterlist to this series on here when ive got more parts written :)

hope this isnt too much of a confusing read and any feedback is appreciated!! Also- requests are still open!!! - j🖤

1.8k words

Part 2

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Washington DC

8:30AM

2009

Two days. That’s all they gave you. Two days time off from the last BSAA issued mission which had you sitting in the med bay for three consecutive nights, test after test to insure you hadn’t caught any strain of virus from getting beaten up by B.O.Ws. You’d been transferred to the USSTRATCOM before you could get comfortable in your own bed again. Chris Redfield himself had you commissioned for a good two months down at a station in South America, carrying out operations for BSAA intel which had gotten you into a whole lot of trouble by the last week, hence the man himself took in three squadrons to finish the job. And when the time came for STRATCOM to issue additional ‘more than capable’ agents, Redfield had personally put in a request for you to be transferred to a more- suited position. You’d been under his and the BSAA’s command for the past 8 years as recommended by your commanding officers from military- seeing as they’d found no other candidates as hard in the head and skilled as needed.

Now you were here, headed towards the reception of an all-too-well government agency better built then the BSAA could’ve ever wished for. Not like you had a choice anyway, Redfield wouldn’t be allowing you back into his side of the field for security reasons and well, because he was worried. You felt so- small in this large hall that would be USSTRATCOM’s lobby, your interaction with the woman at the desk echoed like a pathetic whisper.

“I’m sorry but you’re not registered here. I can look you up if you were with any other department-“

“That won’t be needed, she should be cleared.” A smile interrupted your one sided exchange with some government receptionist.

You turned to the woman who’d just claimed she had cleared you.

“Ingrid Hunnigan, I’ve been issued to your transfer.”

There was no need for an introduction, she basically had you on file. Hunnigan made her way around the desk, signalling for you to tail behind.

You wanted to ask her details on the job, how long you’d be out, when you’d be out, introduction to an F.O.S agent- nothing came out except small nods in understanding as she pointlessly flagged out the entire building as you walked through the rustling halls. You’ve grown to not care much about human interaction outside of what needed to be done.

“They didn’t brief you on anything?” She whipped her head around and stopped in her tracks.

“Not at all.”

And that was enough to receive a huff of disappointment as she redirected her route.

Oblivious to your party, a certain agent was currently flicking through your life’s record at the end of the hall, skimming over your profile and various written reports out of a Manila folder, fair in size but not large enough for a normal agent file. His eyes tracing over your documents- despite your age you were quite accomplished, issued in the military and pulled out of ranger school to transfer to the torturous trainings of the BSAA and other government parties alike. You’d even remember briefly having sessions at USSOCOM before you were on field with the BSAA, you’d come in, left a mark and went straight off to work for Chris Redfield.

As you kept walking, Hunnigan had managed to find you a copy of the mission briefing at her office before heading out to the hall again. You were handed a thick set of papers- enough to make you question how big of a job this was. Before your eyes finished with the first page, Hunnigan was three steps further down the hall.

“Leon!” She stopped in her tracks. “I thought you weren’t meant to be here until 9?”

Leon. You seen and heard of him time and time again from Redfield despite their lack of interaction with one another. That name alone made you look up from your hands, startled almost. You envied him in some way- or at least what you had heard of him. Not because he was the presidents golden boy, nor because he was everyone’s favourite toy to send after bio-terrorists. No, you simply envied his will to live and to save others- you envied that in Chris a little bit too if you were completely honest. Little did you know, he had heard a bit about you here and there too.

“Well it doesn’t hurt to arrive a bit earlier.” He turned and greeted you with a warm smile. Unusual huh. Not many people with a tragic life like his working two and two for the government had enough will power to greet anyone like that. Your lack of reciprocation made the exchange unlawfully bitter. He stood up from the bench in the hall, reaching his hand out for you to shake.

“This is agent Kennedy, I’m sure you’ve heard a bit about him from around the place. I assume Chris has familiarised you with his presence on this earth.” Hunnigan was inclined on introducing you two and before she could finish your name, he’d already repeated it back to you. He was tall, but not an intimidating height, a firm but gentle grip, roughly shaven and kind blue eyes. No one ever mentioned his look of warmth before.

“I’m sure you two will have more than enough time to know each other, and seeing as your both here why don’t we just get started.” You don’t remember her conversations with you being this light hearted, well- if you could even call them proper conversations amidst your prolonged stroll through the building.

Washington DC

Conference Room 6A

09:00AM

You were almost like some sort of loyal hound to Chris. Sure, you followed orders, got the job done but under the necessary circumstances. Not to mention- being backed up by a squad. You really never left his side despite his muddled up tactical morals, you always managed to fall under his command. This was different. The strings were coiled tighter. And there was no Redfield to suggest that he had a better idea.

You could tell by the annoyance in Leon’s otherwise-abnormally-kind eyes that he wanted to protest against the idea. He was a field agent, a rather special one but he certainly wasn’t some sort of government spy. And neither were you. Hunnigan wasnt exactly asking. In fact she had no say in approval as shes just an F.O.S agent who’s unfortunate circumstances had her picking up after Leon Kennedy.

“Leon we dont have another option” she sighed, tiredly removing her glasses and setting her hand to pinch on the bridge of her nose. “Look, if this really is a plan that’ll result in a chain of bio-terrorist attacks then we can’t be stuck in the deep end.” So- nothing but a wild goose chase into unmarked territory.

Unmarked, exactly what people look for when they want to satisfy themselves with bioterrorism. The BSAA could only ever cover so much terrain, and Chris wanted to punch himself for how easily the US stuck their fingers into his shit.

“Leon-” she sighed again, some sort of tired mother fed up with her teenage son’s lack of common sense in the world, blandly trying to explain to him basic parameters. “We wouldn’t have called if there was anyone else suitable foe the mission.” Leon huffed at the repetitiveness of the lines to follow, which earned him a less patient, more aggressive tone from Hunnigan. “You’d still be shit faced on vacation right now and /kitten/ here would still be tailing Chris Redfield like some sort if spirit animal.”

Leon shifted his gaze towards you, surprised to see no reaction from the otherwise offensive nickname Hunnigan spat out at you. You weren’t denying it, and Leon had had enough of her passive aggressiveness.

“If this all goes south, well have escorts from our nearest location pull you out of there immediately-“

Bold promise to make. You knew STRATCOM was good- but how good? Last time you heard anything about their squads was from Chris Redfield ‘warning’ his team not to fuck up because he didn’t want his XOs filling out mountains of post-operation paperwork. Cleanup was a lengthy process and he hates seeing squad kids packed in bags because of some strategical fuck up. ‘I don’t want a repeat of STRATCOM’s last mission’, he’d said for months on end, pestering kids into learning their shit and paying attention more. Redfield wasn’t in the position to lose any more soldiers- he couldn’t afford to.

You leant back on the table, hands rested over the ledge so you could scornfully and casually flick through the rest of the file laid out beside you. Leon was still standing beside you, a good distance, arms crossed staring firmly at Hunnigan, patiently awaiting her next spew of words. She sighed, deep and heavy and put her glasses back on as she sat up in her chair.

“You leave tomorrow at noon. Escort will be waiting out the back of West Wing so if you could please familiarise yourself with that area and collect your gear before then that would be great.”

That part was directed to you. West wing is on the west side of the building, but where the fuck that is you hadn’t bothered paying attention to. Hunnigan opened her mouth to say something again- but ultimately decided against the idea and instead followed her instructions with ‘any questions?’, before all of you remained in silence and she quickly dismissed you. Hunnigan, in a silent annoyance, packed up the file and left the empty conference room leaving you and Leon to wilt in each others presence.

You watched the dust particles floating around the ray of sunshine hitting the carpet, tapping your finger on the edge of the table.

“Sorry about her. I think she’s just sick of me at this point. But a job’s a job, right?”

Out of the blue, Leon uncrossed his arms and sighed in amusement. You looked up at him, phased by his forgiving attitude, sending a huff and nod in agreement. You resentfully pushed yourself off this table, informally stretching your back as you adjusted yourself.

“See you tomorrow then I guess.” You snarked, backing your way towards the door.

“No introductions?”

“You’ve read my file-“

“That file says nothing about you-“ Leon laughed. You shrugged in return as you reached the heavy wooden door to the hall.

“Nothing to know Agent Kennedy.” You mumbled, like he could barely hear it.

AN: OKAY THATS AN IDEA OF WHAT IT MIGHT BE AND I HOPE THAT WASNT TOO HORRIBLE!!! if theres anything you’d like me to know just shoot a message or send in something :)

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil series #chris redfeild x reader #resident evil fanfiction #chris resident evil #leon resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #slow burn #resident evil angst

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noturvlentine · 1 year

Text

the same damn thing

matty healy x reader based on this request🖤

requests are open still!!! this is my first matty request so to anon i hope it somewhat resembles what you had in mind :)

do not copy my stuff elsewhere but reblogs are appreciated 🖤

Summary- when you decided to take a break from your own music, you focused on helping matty and the boys on their new record and tour, offering your vocals for about you during a few live sets- though tonight, Matty’s lyrics hit differently. You realised that theyre about you-

lots of random doubting and fluff?

Word count 1.3k

༺ ♰ ༻

You were set for the stage any minute now, though it was a matter of how dramatic Matty was setting himself up to be that night. Tonight was your last time lending a hand to The 1975 before you set back on your own tour, for the past two shows, Matty had asked for you perform About You with the band on stage- an offer you couldn’t decline.

You remember London, 02, night two. You were an unannounced guest but honestly didn’t expect as huge of a welcome as you got that night, probably because you were no where near as interesting as Taylor swift from the previous show. You and Matty had always been a thing, platonically and sentimentally since Jack Antonoff introduced you two back ages ago. However, Matty would cowardly disagree.

First, he asked you if you’d like to be on a track for their latest album. He’d asked if you were willing to record your vocals for About You, and he’d ask when you were free.

And secondly, he was still in love with you. Whatever had been brewing inside him for the past- god knows how long had finally eaten him up from the inside and he was done being subtle. He was petrified that this tender desire to be with you would eventually suffocate him- he was done avoiding writing about you. The moment he swore to George about being earnest, he knew it was completely over for him. He’d tried to love you once. Though that was interrupted by a round of horse therapy and two rounds of tours from both parties- he didn’t know if it’ll end the way it always did. And something in side you was clawing at your rib cage too, curling around you heart and spreading infectiously under the radar.

On your second night, in Birmingham you felt the warmth of his stare prying its way into your mind, and down to your heart. You’d spent the entire night and the rest of the next day, until now- trying to tend to the animal of feelings that had scratched its way out from your chest. How long has it been like this? How long had you tamed your love for him and why now?

It all made sense now. The way he’d make up for your lost time together right after coming home from tour, in between shows and whatever he was up to. The desperation in his eyes when he’d ask if you’d come perform for them and this new doomed earnestness he’d adopted for the album. You stared blankly at the lights illuminating the stairs from the hallway to the wings, your earpiece rested around your neck, fidgeting with your hands and picking on the bottom of your top. Why now?

Were all your anonymous love songs secretly for written for Matty? Did your subconsciousness realise what you had going before you ever saw clear enough? Did you mean everything you’d supposedly said about him in your music?-

“Hey! You’re up!”

One of the stage hands had motioned for you towards the wings, that frail white door waiting for you to open it. You couldn’t drop your thoughts about Matty- you were fucked.

Pressured by the song, already crescendoing through the speakers, you made your way through the dark towards the door, opening it quietly as you walked onto the dimly lit stage. You made your way past Jamie and George, picking up a microphone set on a stool next to a pillar- exactly like you did the previous night.

You and I,

Don’t let go-

Were alive,

Don’t let go-

With nothing to do, I could lay and just look in your eyes

Your voice was slightly lower than Polly’s but it made for a good harmony. The Birmingham crowd had lost the moment you’d began those words.

Wait,

Don’t let go-

And pretend,

Don’t let go-

Hold on and hope that we’ll find our way back in the end

You started to think that the song was too optimistic for a man who couldn’t make up his mind sometimes. And indeed Matty had never given up on you since he first realised that he was in love with you- only now were your paths beginning to cross. Making your way down to Matty, sitting on the edge of the top half of the stage looking down at him, you saw that same flare in his eyes that had landed you in an entanglement of intoxicating emotions.

Do you think I have forgotten?

About you?

His eyes were fixated on you, and maybe you liked the way he looked from this angle but whatever it was- it made your heart race exhaustingly, more than any rush of performance adrenaline could ever accomplish.

There was something bout you that now, I cant remember

Its the same damn thing that made my heart surrender

And I miss you on the train, I miss you in the morning

I never know what to think about

I think about you-

And in the moment of that exact brief surrender of a heart- it finally hit you. Matty had written this song for you- unable to decide whether it would be the end of him if you ever picked up on it. He didn’t know how you’d screwed him over with your smile and gentle eyes that rained and flooded his mind all too often. He simply couldn’t deal with it much longer as the house he’d built around his love for you would eventually collapse under his swelling heart. You kept singing on autopilot, your legs now crossed as you sat on the floor still looking at him.

Do you think I have forgotten?

About you?

Dont let go-

About you-

Do you think I have forgotten?

About you?

Dont let go-

Matty could see the shock in your eyes as his inevitable exposure had crossed you. He saw the way you were looking at him even through the strobing lights on stage and the unforgiving roar of crowd. You microphone had now been turned off and switched to earpiece transmission only. It was then out of carnival instinct you picked it up and held it right against your chest-

‘I love you’

You blurted out like a bittersweet whisper which passed straight into Matty’s earpiece. He looked at you equally stunned as if his collection of ‘almost confessions’ were laid out right on your body.

Without even asking he walked the distance towards you, closing the gap between you as he stood before you. His eyes never left yours and during a fleeting moment of confessions, he snaked his hand up around you neck, bringing you down into a kiss. You were now leaning over the side of the stage, and Matty was on the tips of his toes- the rest of the band were still going to your surprise but the rest of the arena had just lost their collective minds. He kissed you. Tender and sweet. It was rotten work to love you but he did it anyway as he stained your heart in return.

Matty pulled away from the kiss, taking both your hands and pulling you down to his level of the stage. His hands were now cupping you face as you stood in front of him, his back still to the audience as John’s sax solo faded into the background.

‘Will you be mine?’ He said, a whisper with the volume of a thousand speakers despite the fact you could barely hear him over the crowd. One nod of the head became two- and soon a million times more as he brought you into a kiss once again.

AN: hope that wasnt a confusing read!! I kinda lost track of where i was going with this one but it made some sort of sense in the end :)

#matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty the 1975 #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fluff #matty healy #the 1975 fic #the 1975 x reader #adam hann #ross macdonald #george daniel

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noturvlentine · 1 year

Note

hiii i wanted to request some angsty matty blurb about her being part of the band's staff, childhood friend with the boys and going through a really bad and toxic relationship with his also staff boyfriend. I was thinking about something where the boys were hanging with her when they notice her flinch when her boyfriend tried to touch her cheek. <3 xo

yess ill try writing this one!! im planning to put out two requests tonight because my brain is on overload and won’t slow down 🥹.

that being said i should probably post a masterlist too but keep requests are still open!!! 🖤🖤🖤

(Check pinned post for stuff I’ll write)

#matty healy fic #george daniel x reader #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy angst #the 1975 fic #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 #matty healy #adam hann #ross macdonald

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noturvlentine · 1 year

Note

Okay hear me out, Matty x singer!reader inspired by about you...but it's about her and she's singing on it

OKAY YES I WILL ABSOLUTELY DO THIS

In my head its gonna go something like- readers a singer, not on the band or anything but have gone on their shows a few times to do the song... something like that.

#the 1975 #adam hann #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #george daniel #george daniel x reader #matty healy #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 x reader #ross macdonald

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noturvlentine · 1 year

Note

THANK YOU FOR DOING MY REQUEST!♥️💕♥️💕♥️💕💕♥️💕♥️♥️💗♥️💗♥️💗♥️💗♥️💗♥️💗♥️💗💗♥️💗♥️💗💗😻😻😻😻 - (the one who requested jake)

AHH I HOPE IT WAS TO YOUR LIKING AND THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤!!!

I loved writing that one too :))

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noturvlentine · 1 year

Text

warm pale evening

Jake Muller (re6) x reader

based on this request 🖤 hope i got remotely close to what you had in mind!!!

this one’s a short one, but i kinda shoved the reader character into doing what Jake does alongside him- extending from the end cut scene of Jake in re6 where it’s suggested he’s still a mercenary but also helping fight B.O.Ws, so this is set post re6

do not copy my stuff elsewhere but reblogs are ok!!!

fluff basically, mentions of previous events

Summary- Jake and his lover are having a talk in bed about their worries sometime into the evening.

༺ ♰ ༻

Somewhere in the Middle East

August

01:20AM

The late summer atmosphere was starting to catch a little breeze. You didn’t know how long you were due to stay in this worn down flat- it was a cheap stay for the time being while Jake received intel on the latest B.O.W reports around the city. He had kept in touch with Sherry after what unfolded in 2012, though he wasn’t keen on being governed by any authority what so ever. You two were always on the move, stopping here and there to discreetly (but not so quietly) take down any bio-organic weapons along the way. You wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world- though it did make you worry about your relationship more than you should.

Jake stood on the balconet, his silhouette leaning wanderingly against the short railing behind the curtains. He’d left the slender door open, you could feel the light breeze wavering into the room. The door was like a large window, and the balcony was barely big enough to fit the two of you- it reminded you of Italy for some reason. You could tell Jake was eating away at his thoughts as he observed the clouded sky. You propped yourself up on your elbows, shifting on the bed to get a better look at him.

‘Jake?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Come back, it’s cold outside’

He turned his head in the dark, his silhouette craning its neck to get a better peak inside. He quietly made his way back into the room, shutting the small glass door behind him. Jakes sweatpants hung low at his hips as the rest of his bare torso dimly lit by the moon, making his way over to his side of the bed. You were in a thin white tshirt, probably one of his seeing as it was quite big on you, you’d both kicked off the covers hours before due to the heat. Jake shuffled the blanket to the side as the mattress sank beside you. There was no bed frame, just clean white sheets on a mattress, brushing up against warm wooden floors. He sat himself on the bed against the wall, slumping down to meet your level. He motioned for you to move closer to him, so you did, your head resting against his chest as his arm looped around your shoulders.

‘I’m worried you know-‘ you began, staring outside. Jake began gently twirling a strand of you hair around his finger.

‘Go ahead- I’m listening.’

A pause followed. Maybe now wasn’t the time for this, maybe you wanted to lie in silence with his arms wrapped around you.

‘What if it all goes wrong one day?- what if- fuck, I don’t know. What if something terrible happens and we lose each other-‘

‘Oh shut up.’ He teased amidst your sentimental stuttering.

‘Jake I’m being serious okay- I’m not at all against what we do but sometimes I could almost die thinking about it.’ You sighed, expecting some witty reply back from him. But he stayed silent for a while longer, thinking about whether to be completely honest with you or just to assure you that it was all okay.

‘Listen, I think about it too- in fact I was just drowning in that thought outside before you called me back in.’ He scoffed at himself- for once he’s not pretending. ‘God- I don’t even know where to start. But what’s important is this, we’re here right now and that’s all that matters right?’ You felt him shrug at his words as he brought his other hand up to your face, gently running his thumb across your cheekbone. You shifted your head up to look at him, tracing your finger across the scar on his face down to his chin, pulling him down to kiss you. It was long and sweet, delicate almost, as if the conversation wasn’t finished. You pulled away slightly to see the complexion in his eyes, searching them for some kind of answer. You sighed quietly and dropped your hand down to his chest, trailing it all the way to his side as you had your arm wrapped around him.

‘I just wanna love you without having to worry about it.’ You said as you snuggled up against him a little more.

‘Then do as you please. Love me without worry.’ He repeated, sliding down his pillow so that you were both somewhat levelled again. He spoke softly and carefully as his fingers continue to weave through your hair, his other hand now tracing small circles on your arm around him. You shifted onto your side a little more and slipped one of your legs between his.

‘Maybe we should call off kicking ass tomorrow and just lie like this for another day.’

You hummed in response.

‘One hell of a job it is, we should retire.’

‘It’s not really a job, Jake.’ You teased at him.

Jake chuckled in response, reaching a hand down the mattress to pull a bit of blanket on both of you.

AN: I have no idea what that is but it rendered kind of bittersweet in my head, kind of a bit domestic despite the setting I guess but it was fun!!!

#jake muller #jake muller x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #re6 #chris redfeild x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fluff

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noturvlentine · 1 year

Text

If only you’d come back to me

matty healy x singer/reader

based on Mojo Pin by Jeff Buckley!!!

(The song has multiple meanings to look into but I thought it was fitting poetically, and since is just such a passionate song too- i wont mention the full song, just parts of the lyrics in order!)

Tell me if you like these song based stuff! I might write some more in the future if anyone has requests 🖤

Criticism is also welcome!!! This is my first fic posted and there’s more coming :)

Do not copy my stuff elsewhere but reblogs are ok!!!

this one is pretty angsty with mentions of a breakup and other stuff you would expect from a typical matty fic??

Summary- Matty finds himself lingering around your show at a music festival both you and the 1975 were attending. He catches your cover of Mojo Pin by Jeff Buckley as you both reminisce about the lost time together.

༺ ♰ ༻

It was the last festival you were listed to perform at this season, luckily with a warm day and pleasant weather you managed to wring in a crowd of both fans and music goers alike. Festival season was always circled in unforgiving red on your calendars- the pressure, massive crowds and other artists. No, him- him in particular. If there was one thing on your list of casualties it would’ve been Matty Healy. He was here too. Their set was all the way across the field almost 4 hours ago, not that you’d heard any of it. Everyone had decided it was a good decision to keep you away from anything related to The 1975 all together, though you still kept the boys’ numbers on your phone, never having the heart to remove them completely from your life. All except Matty- not that you wanted to push him away like that. Maybe a proper goodbye would’ve made it less painful every time you were reminded of him here and there- through the little things.

The crowd had stopped hustling as you approached the end of your set, everyone configuring their instruments one last time before the final song. It was quiet, the soft hum of the song begun in the background.

‘Um, I- I just wanted to say thanks for sticking around for my silly little tracks and thank you to my band for dealing with me- I hope you guys like some Jeff Buckley.’ You smiled at your own awkwardness, refusing to look up into the crowd as you adjusted your microphone.

I’m lying in my bed, the blanket is warm

This body will never be safe from harm

Still feel your hair, black ribbons of coal

Touch my skin to keep me whole

Those lyrics slipped off your tongue like a blanketed memory. And indeed they were. Even your fingers plucking at the pattern of the riff reminded you of how you’d first learnt the song- on the floor of Matty’s bedroom in his shared flat with George. His eyes trailing over your body as you played the song back a million times that night. Suddenly you found your eyes searching the crowd for a certain dark haired boy- probably with his mates somewhere along the sides of vip guests and artists. Your mind was in conflict. Stop searching- you can’t fuck up this song. How long could you keep running for?

Certainly not forever, but he was here- by the third barricade passing through to the other side of the field. He hadn’t noticed you yet- until the haunting second verse sent a familiar warmth down his back.

If only you’d come back to me

If you laid at my side

Wouldn’t need no mojo pin

To keep me satisfied

Then, an even more familiar chord followed by silence. The lyrics of the chorus came flooding into his head as if the burdens of heartbreak itself had wrapped it’s sickening grip around his mind. They were circling in him now, echoed by your reigning voice.

Don’t want to weep for you

I don’t want to know

I’m blind and tortured

The white horses flow

Matty stopped in his tracks, timidly shifting his gaze towards the stage far in the distance. His heart sank. Deeper into the depths of his memory. He could recognise every inch of you even from afar. Your hair hadn’t changed- neither had your stage presence, the way slung around the microphone stand, eyes closed and spilling your heart away into the song. The way your notes came from the depths of your lungs, burning with passion, haunting and delicate- exactly how you used to sing around him.

The memories fire

The rhythms fall slow

Black beauty, I love you so

Suddenly he was back in the warmth of the studio. His head resting on your lap and your hands curling in his hair as a guitar was propped up, his soft hums and strumming spreading across a comfortable silence in the room. How had he fucked this up? How had you fucked this up? Matty had stopped for long enough before Adam caught wind of him, nudging him forward towards where they were going. He froze behind Matty, a subsequent drop of expression at the inevitable situation infront of him. You were on stage, belting your heart out in the next verse- Matty was stuck in his thoughts. It was an avoidable situation until now. He noticed that Matty didn’t seem visibly distraught, a relief to his worried look.

Ageless, ageless, and I’m there in your arms

Oh how he wishes he was back under your touch again, sinking into the warmth of his past apartment, rambling on about his thoughts to you. He missed that- he still does. It was half expected that Matty was now in full panic mode- on the verge of some sort of guilty breakdown but to Adam’s surprise- he remained quite still, longing you quietly. You had stopped searching for him now, knowing if he was there he’d be long gone by now, because in your head you knew that you two were the same- unable remain peacefully without the thought of each other, hence you’d thought he’d probably left.

I don’t want to weep for you-

I don’t wanna know

I’m blind and tortured

The white horses flow

You’d flown too close to the sun once, to be fair one could’ve said you’d flown straight into the sun when you and Matty were together. And yeah, it burned like hell, but you don’t regret a second of it despite how scarred and broken it left you in the end. Matty too. By then both your second albums had dropped and neither of you expected tour to be easy. Matty’s habit of leaning on drugs wasn’t slowing down any time soon, and it didn’t help that the both of you were newly broken-up and everyone on the internet was constantly reminding him of it. You weren’t any better, smokes, alcohol and occasional drugs had numbed your mind enough for the past few years- but too much of it reminded you of your time with Matty where substances put you on the high for each others love.

Oh the welts of your scorn, my love, give me more

Send whips of opinion down my back, give me more

Well it’s you I’ve waited my life to see

It’s you I’ve searched so hard for

You hadn’t found anything quite like it. You and Matty. You had tried and briefly ‘tested the waters’ with one of your close friends, your producer and bassist, also a well known musician himself but it never felt right. You never felt the urge to ask if Matty was seeing anyone either, it wouldn’t have hurt for you to stay in the dark about it. But for some reason it did.

Don’t wanna weep for you

I don’t wanna know

I’m blind and tortured

The white horses flow

The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow

The song came to its final crescendo, as did the heart spewing rushes of memories inside of Matty. The more passionate your singing became, the more painful and broken you sounded- the more Matty found himself apologising internally for what happened, and what could’ve been. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to push his way through the crowd of thousands of people and stand before you. But his heels sank deeper into the grassy terrain the more his heart rushed. By then him and Adam were standing there far behind the rest of the band, watching the rest of your performance, even Adam had never heard you sing like that before. Your eyes closed, pulling away from the microphone for a breath before the last few lyrics came weeping with passion. Every part of it reminded Matty of how much he loved you, how much he still does and how hard he’s tried to confine his love into a mental prison- for the sake of his well-being. You didn’t know why you kept singing the cover in your sets- it reeked of your past relationship. Not in a bad way- more like a lingering perfume of a dead loved one- or just fairly distant and long forgotten, haunting you with their presence on the fabric of couch cushions, ghosting the halls and the closet. Approaching the end of the song, Adam had nudged Matty once again, signalling they had somewhere to be.

‘Mate cmon, songs over. Forget ‘bout it.’

Matty complied, turned his gaze away from the stage as his eyes followed his boots as they walked. Though the thought now clouded his mind like a virus, soon to be in control. Matty tried his best to push it away again, saving it for a day when he was ready to stand in front of you and swallow whatever you had to exchange with each other. A slap, screams, he had no hope for reconciliation- little did he know you both wanted it badly. He ran over the scenario a hundred times before reaching their trailer, the last lyrics of the song never leaving his head.

Black beauty, I love you so-

AN: OMG i hope that wasn’t too horrible for a first fic- no idea how to end it either. probably wont be turning this one into a series but we’ll see!!!

#matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fic #matty the 1975 #matty healy #the 1975 fic #the 1975 #matty healy angst #matty healy fluff #george daniel x reader #george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald #the 1975 fanfic #idk what else to put in the tags

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