➳ Will I just fall to pieces

Or am I alright? ➳

--- *** ---

"Well," Crudely heavy sigh foamed your brittle lungs whilst lingering your pristinely dainty fingers crooked around the goblet swamped partly with its promiscously sinful, overwhelmingly insatiable liquor glimmering past your peripheral gaze. The controversially overwhelming, sinisterly obstinate process of attempting to sort your mind during the enquiry that ever asphyxiated the very walls of the living room and the meager scale of adequately intimate proximity you traded with one another, inevitably megawatt abraded its tension. A sheepishly huge grin crawled beneath your roseate lips, and flexing your facial muscles whilst struggling to elaborate a girlishly mellifluous giggle. "Isn't it too apparent?"

"Sure!" At the moment, the British compatriot maneuvered its stroll to the chest of drawers as his meek footsteps truly relaxing barked against the carpeted floor, accompanying his melodiously sardonic chuckle clicking the roof of his mouth. Little did you know what he was actually up to by judging his cryptic manners and body language articulated in every authentically unique motion. "I am still keeping in mind that those dear friends of you with whom we shared Thanksgiving, you are going to bring with yourself!"

"Do you think you have guessed the correct answer?" The mischievous tipsy undertones' tangoing your etched vowels and syllables formation of your inquiry couldn't stifle even the very flares' tender inflammation, fierily scorching the older gentleman's emphatically guttural snigger elaborating its lump's vibration seething his Adam apple. Regardless his condition, whether the alcohol taking a grave toll on him or the soberness infernally ferocious brimming its ineludibly eternal torrent of blood, surging through his very veins like the stormiest tempest, forcefully utmost erecting its preternaturally monumental waves, ready to slap the celestially smooth gilded sandy blanket scrunching the bare feet in a fresh summer afternoon, yet you would postpone to fulfill your task, or rather, solemnly honing your ears to elaborate its eavesdrop of his deeply heavy, honey-mouthed lilt etched graciously his ballad.

"I doubt that you would like to bring with yourself a square on a desolated island, Y/N!" The cusp of noxious pessimism and vindictive wryness prominently boiled the British aristocrat's jeering, whereas his virginally strong fingers toyed with the second drawer knob and subsequently channelizing to pull it forcefully towards his larger frame, which divided a meager distance with the furniture. "Why haven't you closed your eyes?"

"You haven't even told me so."

"Don't be childish, rara avis!" At the moment, the older man's fleet derision darkened the very timbre of his caution as his cinnamon brown huge, rotund abysses flicked up at you, impaling your being as if you were one of the devil's amenably hopeless preys of his demonically colossal claws that apt to revitalize the sore affliction chasing you down even in a majestically mere, piercing gaze. As usually, the older man wasn't passionately looking forward to revel in the unpreventably noxious alcohol's plague, streaming its childlikely vigorous wavelets dilating and diving in the heinously endless sea of drunkness's remnants and aftermaths to submerge him. Notwithstanding his absent fervor to regulate the swigged glasses of sinfully insatiable liquor sweetening with its bitterly cloying flavor his tongue tip, he sometimes couldn't stifle his inner voices' bluntly blatant, heinously ear-splitting roars stimulate his motivation even to crook his pristinely silken fingers circa the alcoholic beverage's bottle to pour himself. You have embraced Timothy with his outstanding imperfections and incontrovertibly positive traits formatting his one of a kind persona. Once the godlessly luscious alcoholic beverage's endemic scent wafted into the prey's amenably tiny nostrils and softly inhaling its unkindly pervasive aroma suffusing the thin air's scale of space it traded with the victim, there was no escape except for not even daring to exchange a meager distance, besides not savouring the liquor at all. "If you just don't close your eyes, therefore it won't be a surprise anymore. Be on the ball!"

Lingering his barbarically outspoken, profoundly poetic smoky quartz abysses on you, consequently an eerily guttural chuckle scorched the lump trashing in his Adam apple eventually. The luminous glossiness his smoky quartz moons recklessly thrusted frequently against his jet-black pupils, manipulated the barbarously patent pattern of the alcohol's curse physically tinting its obvious symptoms.

In spite of the fact the divinely innocuous angels grew their golden wings of their true epitomes of sheer benevolence, unconditional love, and, last, but not least, trustworthy purity, besides perkily flapping them, absolutely cocksure of their orthodoxy exemplar they epidemically bedeviled the nobodies' real impressions and perspectives on the angels; their darker sides vividly saturated what kind of demons they concealed out of the celestial stage's panorama. Every one of a kind angel had struggled to prevail, or conceal their inevitable demons ushering the symptoms of their cryptically erratic vices to headstrongly haunt them down in the moments, where their masks of benevolent holiness sloppily fell from their starkly godlike complexions.

In the meantime, you managed to wrench your E/C roundish minerals shut as your virginally pixie-like fingers to cover your eyesight, in case, if you weren't following docilely his instructions at all. A childishly mirthful, cheesily wide grin hysterically sprawled upon your naturally rosy-coloured, angelically cordate lips and scarcely oppressing the efficiently villainous giggle teasing your feminine Adam apple to heavily pervade the thin air's grandiose space you and the former pious clergyman exchanged each other. Little did you know what might be behind the scenes of your closed minerals and its passionately cryptic absorption of your childlike inquisitiveness vehemently vandalizing the impending dose of eye-openers stomping on you like a crudely sturdy titan's shoed-clad feet pelting you down to squash your weightless frail skeleton compared to the much taller, bigger supernatural creature.

"I closed them, Tim! You don't have to repeat that a lot."

"Good girl!" The haphazardness of the former devotional member of the clergy fashioned into his balled marbled mammoth hand the simply miniature scarlet velvet box, while manipulating to lull his wet, berry-coloured tongue to lick his upper and lower wine-stained lips emphatically hysteric. His guileless inquisitiveness eagerly whirled its series of dream scenarios in his tornado of thoughts. The sweet purr of his heartwarming caution tingled angelic anthems in your flexible ears whilst meowing a desperately healthy, fiendish titter scorching your tongue tip. Sometimes the alcohol's consumption elicited the emotions' savage impulse articulating its frankly mighty saga of the incredulously feisty chuckles and light-hearted chaffs to reside the very walls of the site of the drunken warriors. "Since your friends won't be part of your isolated island survival, I am firmly guessing who is going to be part of your company."

"You are far cry from dumb to not know the correct answer."

"Do I really need to guess it?" When the British aristocrat pushed gingerly the second drawer of the furniture, readjusting its default position, throughout his forthcoming destination to approach you as you were leisurely reclining, dawdling your digits and fingertips clung to your tender eyelids' muscles as if you were an ominously bubbly child, playing hide and seek with its small circle of close friends, and counting to the certain number until it was high time to survey the sites all alone like an eager adventurer. Even the brightest surprises out of the blue were the most inescapably intoxicating presents each individual had been awarded. No matter the vibrantly sunny optimism or the repellently unimaginable pessimism clouding the individual's vortex of thoughts about their eventual anticipation, every outstandingly majestic miracle was resuscitating the seraphic nirvana and victorious pride cocooning conveniently the very conscience and frail heart.

"It is up to you."

"You don't need to be that bashful to not give a single try."

"Oh, okay!" The suddenness of your brittle lungs' arduously obdurate elaboration of surging its refreshing oxygen to rocket freely through your delicate nose, thus escorted modestly your facial expression of knitting your eyebrows to the bridge of your nose. "I believe there is only one person I would bring with myself on an isolated island."

"Is it-" At the moment, the former aspiring Monsignor hunkered down past your reclined figure and manifested to examine you in a studious scrutiny, whereas his warm coffee brown optics scanned you from head to foot lastly. Catching every ounce of remarkably unique glimpse of the prospect spine-chillingly bewitched him, squiring the unspeakable morello pigment mischievously teasing your well-sculptured cheeks, subsequently you formatted a duet of ethereally timeless drapery of venomously joyous chuckles dripping from your oral slits.

"Can I open my eyes so that to see finally who is going to be part of my company for the stay on a desolated island?" Meantime, you registered to unbuckle your femininely dainty hands from your façade and flicked up your E/C rotund crystals spearing the vista of Timothy's virginally creamy, alabaster fingers buckling the miniature velvet scarlet box and opening it in front of you until the sensationally brilliant glint of the lilliputian heart-shaped zircon ring scintillatingly perforating your ogle. Now, crystalline salty twin fat tears foamed your lower eyelids like translucently luminous lapis lazulis' beads ornamenting your youthful complexion. It wasn't even a hoax. It wasn't an ordinary April Fools' Day mockery. It was something else. It was ineffably poetic and profoundly breathtaking in its real epitome of the mind-boggling wildfire overwhelming your blizzard of thoughts along your emotions and feelings. "Don't tell me I'm particularly dreaming!" Whimpering a desperately overwhelmed sob breaking your exquisite facial attributes, thereafter, the luxuriously fat cataracts of tears gushed down your cheeks and mirrored your painful incredulity towards the marriage proposal. "This ring is too beautiful to be the chosen one for such a wretched human being like me!"

"It's not a real tragedy, sweetheart! That is the perfect, the most stunning ring I have ever bought and it is only suitable for your spidery ring finger." Struggling to bedaub gingerly with your fingertips to barrage the sorely salty tears' deft disappearance in the ebony limbo, Timothy manifested his solely free hand's orthodoxy long, slim fingers to trace gently the very curve of your extraordinary jaw's bone structure. "Never and ever repeat those fugly words that have nothing to do with your unique persona! You are the most beautiful and the most wonderful woman I have ever met in my entire life."

"D-Do you truly mean this?" Muffling with the palm of your petite, dainty hand the dryly gruff cough fanning gently the tender flesh, thus the ethereally eternal blinks of your bijous excreted the thin rivulets of crystal tears, staining relentlessly with its murderous dew your lower eyelids and saturating your eyeballs in the most ruby hue at last. Your hearts skipped a beat.

"Yes, my rare bird! Y/N L/N, the most ideal princess that had ever conquered my heart, the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on," Opulence of fluctuating stammers sloppily slithered across Timothy's lower plumpish lip, while managing to incline mirthfully an eyebrow and channelizing his brittle fingertips to trace authentically delicate your cheekbone's swan curve eventually. "The most marvelous miracle that had ever brightened my life and being the shiniest star in my starless world as I can't thank you enough for your tremendous help, when I was ruefully troubled with the demon inside me and giving me a temporal shelter. I just can't thank you enough." Oddly, the luxurious crystal waterfall of twin chubby tears no longer descended freely your face and arduously buffing an angelically broad, tearful smile softening your facial features at the kindheartedly candid monologue of the former ambitious Monsignor. The velvety northern lilt punctured the detrimentally fatalistic sandstorm of conveying its friendly reminder to be all ears, besides pearly molting in each dearly etched vowel and syllable. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes, darling!" Then you flumped in his promisingly inviting, protective grip as he dangled his masculinely megawatt, muscly arms circa your waist and upper back, whilst abrading its concrete stable eye contact's tension impaling one another's ogles. The subconscious toss of your arms to brace his muscly broad shoulders poised your frail skeleton in his grasp, accompanying its unevenly inexorable groans and gasps. "More than anything, Tim! I'm truly happy for being part of my life and doing more for me even when it wasn't truly deserved."

"I love you more than anything, my rara avis!" Molting in the Eskimo kiss as your nose tips meagerly inched the humble distance you shared, consequently you pressed a solidly sultry kiss to your nude, lusciously brim lips and pinching shut your depths.

"I love you way more, Timothy!"

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✝ Here is finally the new book cover of Hypodermic Transgression. It's unsure yet if it will be revamped again, nevertheless, I am immensely proud of polishing it exquisitely! What are your honest thoughts on the new book cover? ✝

✝ Do you rather prefer the older one or otherwise the newer? ✝

✝ What do you think we will look forward to Timothy and the female reader as a pairing? ✝

✝  If you candidly enjoyed and liked this chapter, don't forget to drop your feedback with your brutally outspoken thoughts! I'd be immensely cheerful to hear your very thoughts! ✝