#of stairs and more than five miles today)

[tempestclerics]

maybe i actually have learned some resilience across the past year because it truly has been a Day but. feeling more even keeled about it than i was expecting and that's a win

[sturnslcver]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ virulent love (series) ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

— chris sturniolo x fem reader —

— warnings, drinking, smoking, pills!

a/n: couldn’t figure out what i wanted to do for chris and y/n’s meet cute so it is heavily based off of a real life book i read, but ive already finished the rest of the story/chapters and it is all my own original ideas! enjoy! :)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

i creep up the stairs in search for my brothers apartment door. this place seems more like a historic hotel than an apartment complex, with its expansive columns and marble floors. when arlo said i could stay with him after hearing about another one of moms manic episodes, i had no idea he lived like an actual adult. I thought it’d be more similar to the last time i visited him, right after i graduated from high school, back when he had first started dealing. however, that was four years ago and a two story skimpy complex ago. that’s kind of what i was expecting. i certainly wasn’t anticipating this orderly area in the middle of downtown massachusetts. I spent all of last week packing up everything i own from mom’s house back in florida. luckily, i don’t own much. but after taking a five hundred mile drive alone today, my exhaustion is pretty obvious in my reflection. my hair is in a unsecured knot on top of my head, held together by a pencil, since I couldn't find a hair tie while I was driving. i reach into my purse to find chapstick, hoping to recover my lips before they end up as weary-looking as the rest of me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and open up my messages to arlo.

i can't remember which apartment number he said was his. it’s either 1372 or 1374. maybe it's 1372? i come to a stop at 1372, because there's a guy passed out on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the door to 1374. please don't let it be 1374. i find the message on my phone and cringe. it's 1374. of course it is.

i walk slowly to the door, hoping I don't wake up the guy. his legs are sprawled out in front of him, and he's leaning with his back propped up against arlo’s door. his chin is tucked to his chest, and he's snoring. "excuse me" i say, my voice just above a whisper. he doesn't move. i lift my leg and poke his shoulder with my foot. "i need to get into this apartment." he rustles and then slowly opens his eyes and stares straight ahead at my legs. his eyes meet my knees, and his eyebrows furrow as he slowly leans forward with a deep scowl on his face. he lifts a hand and pokes my knee with his finger, almost as if he's never seen a knee before. he drops his hand, closes his eyes, and falls back asleep against the door. great. arlo won't be back until tomorrow, so i dial his number to see if this guy is someone i should be concerned about. “y/n?" he asks, answering his phone without a hello. "yep," i reply. "made it safe, but i can't get in because there's a drunk guy passed out at your front door." "thirteen seventy four?" he asks. "you sure you're at the right apartment?" "positive." "are you sure he's drunk?" "positive." "weird," he says. "what’s he wearing?" "why do you want to know what he's wearing?" "if he's wearing a yellow shirt and goggles on his head he’s probably the janitor. the janitor in our complex is homeless" this guy isn't wearing any type of goggles, but i can't help but notice that his jeans and black hoodie do fit him very nicely. "no goggles," i say. “can you get past him without waking him up?" "i’d have to move him. he’ll fall inside if I open the door." he’s quiet for a few seconds while he thinks. "go back downstairs and wait in the lobby until someone can let you in" i sigh, because ive been driving for six hours, and going all the way back downstairs is not something I feel like doing right now.

“just stay on the phone with me until I'm inside your apartment" i like my plan a lot better. i balance my phone against my ear with my shoulder and dig inside my purse for the key arlo sent me. i insert it into the lock and begin to open the door, but the drunk guy begins to fall backward with every inch the door opens. he groans, but his eyes don't open again. "it’s too bad he's wasted," i tell arlo. "he’s not bad-looking." "can you just get your ass inside and lock the door so i can hang up." i roll my eyes. i’m hoping things will be different between us now that mom’s in the hospital. she was always turning us against one another. for example, by the time i was eleven, i’d saved up three hundred dollars so that i could finally get a pet hamster. she ended up stealing it and spending it on pills. she told me arlo stole it.

i wrap my purse around my shoulder, but it gets caught on my suitcase handle, so i just let it fall to the floor. i keep my left hand wrapped tightly around the doorknob and hold the door shut so the guy won't fall completely into the apartment. i take my foot and press it against his shoulder, pushing him from the center of the doorway. he doesn't budge. “arlo, he's too heavy. i’m gonna have to hang up so I can use both hands." “no, don't hang up. just put the phone in your pocket, but don't hang up." i look down at the oversized shirt and leggings I have on. “no pockets. you’re going in the bra." arlo laughs as i pull the phone from my ear and shove it inside my bra. i remove the key from the lock and drop it toward my purse, but it misses and falls to the floor. i reach down to grab the drunk guy so I can move him out of the way. “okay" I say, struggling to pull him away from the center of the doorway. "sorry." i somehow manage to prop him up against the doorframe to prevent him from falling into the apartment, and then i push the door open farther and turn to get my things.

something warm wraps around my ankle. i freeze. i look down. “let go!" i yell, kicking at the hand that's gripping my ankle so tightly I'm pretty sure it might bruise. the drunk guy is looking up at me now, and his grip sends me falling backward into the apartment when I try to pull away from him. "i need to get in there” , he mutters, just as my butt meets the floor. he makes an attempt to push the apartment door open with his other hand, and this immediately sends me into panic mode. i pull my legs the rest of the way inside, and his hand comes with me. i use my free leg to kick the door shut, slamming it directly onto his wrist. “fuck!" he yells. he’s trying to pull his hand back into the hallway with him, but my foot is still pressing against the door. i release enough pressure for him to have his hand back, and then i immediately kick the door all the way shut.

i pull myself up and lock the door, the dead bolt, and the chain lock as quickly as i can. as soon as my heart rate begins to calm down, it starts to scream at me. my heart is actually screaming at me. in a deep male voice. It sounds like it's calling my name. arlo. i immediately look down at my chest and pull my phone out of my bra, then bring it up to my ear. "hello!" i wince, then pull the phone several inches from my ear. "i’m fine," i say, out of breath. "i’m inside. i locked the door." “okay" he says, relieved. "you scared me. what the hell happened?" “he was trying to get inside. i locked the door, though." i flip on the living-room light and take no more than three steps inside before i come to a halt. i slowly turn back toward the door after realizing what ive done. “arlo?" i pause. "i left a few things outside that i need. i would just grab them, but the drunk guy is still trying to get in, so there's no way I'm opening the door again. what do i do?” he’s silent for a few seconds. "what did you leave in the hallway?" i don't want to answer him, but i do. "my suitcase...and purse." “why the hell is your purse outside?" "i also left the key on the hallway floor." he doesn't even respond to that one. he just groans. "i’ll call chris and see if he's home yet. give me two minutes." "wait. who’s chris ?" "he lives across the hall. whatever you do, don't open the door again until i call you back." arlo hangs up, and i lean against his front door. i’ve lived in massachusetts all of thirty minutes. my phone rings. i slide my thumb across the screen and answer it.

"hey." "y/n?" "yeah?," i reply, wondering why he always double-checks to see if it's me. he called me, so who else would be answering it who sounds exactly like me? "i called chris." “good. is he gonna help me get my stuff?" "not exactly," arlo says. "i kind of need you to do me a huge favor." my head falls against the door again. i have a feeling the next few months are going to be full of inconvenient favors, since he knows he's doing me a huse one by letting me stay here. "what?" i ask him. "chris kind of needs your help." "the neighbor?" i pause as soon as it clicks, and i close my eyes. "arlo, please don't tell me the guy you called to protect me from the drunk guy is the drunk guy." arlo sighs. "i need you to unlock the door and let him in. let him crash on the couch. i’ll be there first thing in the morning. when he sobers up, he'll know where he is, and he'll go straight home." i shake my head. "what kind of apartment complex is this? should i prepare to be groped by drunk people every time I come home?" long pause. "he groped you?" "groped might be a bit strong. he did grab my ankle, though." arlo lets out a sigh. "just do this for me. call me back when you've got him and all your stuff inside." "fine." i groan, recognizing the worry in his voice.

i hang up on arlo and open the door. the drunk guy falls onto his shoulder, and his cell phone slips from his hand and lands on the floor next to his head. i flip him onto his back and look down at him. he cracks his eyes open and attempts to look up at me, but his eyelids fall shut again. "You're not arlo," he mutters. "no. i’m not. i’m your new neighbor." i lift him by his shoulders and try to get him to sit up, but he doesn't. i don't think he can, actually. how does a person even get this drunk? i grab his hands and pull him inch by inch into the apartment, stopping when he's just far enough inside for me to be able to close the door. i retrieve all of my things from outside the apartment, then shut and lock the front door. i grab a throw pillow from the couch, prop his head up, and roll him onto his side in case he pukes in his sleep. and that's all the help he's getting from me. when he's comfortably asleep in the middle of the living room floor, i leave him there while I look around the apartment.

the living room alone could fit three of the living rooms from arlos last apartment. arlo said he'd be back in the morning, so i’ll leave that to him. normally, i would be nervous about the fact that there's a stranger in the same apartment I'm in, but i have a feeling i don't need to worry. arlo would never ask me to help someone he felt might be a threat to me in any way. which confuses me, because if this is common behavior for chris, i’m surprised arlo asked me to bring him inside.

i head back to the living room to turn out the lights, but when ive rounded the corner, i come to an immediate halt. not only is chris up off the floor, but he's in the kitchen, with his head pressed against his arms and his arms folded on top of the kitchen counter. he’s seated on the edge of a bar stool, and he looks as if he's about to fall off it any second. i can't tell if he's sleeping again or just attempting to recover. "chris?" he doesn't move when i call his name, so i walk toward him and gently lay my hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. the second my fingers squeeze his shoulder, he gasps and sits up straight as if I just woke him from the middle of a dream. or a nightmare. immediately, he slides off the stool and onto very unstable legs. he begins to sway, so i throw his arm over my shoulder and try to walk him out of the kitchen. "come on." he drops his forehead to the side of my head and stumbles along with me, making it even harder to hold him up. we make it to the front of the couch, and i start to peel him off me. "okay, chris. whoever you are. just go to sleep." he falls onto the couch, but he doesn't let go of my shoulders. i fall with him and immediately attempt to pull away. i gently push him back into the couch, yanking my hand away. i lay his pillow down and urge him onto it. "go to sleep, chris," i say gently.

his eyelids are heavy and watering when he drops to the pillow. he grabs my hand and hums. his eyes fall shut again, and he releases a heavy sigh. i stare at him silently, allowing him to keep hold of my hand until he's quiet and still. i pull my hand away from his, but i stay by his side for a few minutes longer. even though he's asleep, he somehow still looks as if he's on edge. his eyebrows are furrowed, and his breathing is sporadic, failing to fall into a peaceful pattern. when he makes another half conscious effort to reach for my hand, i finally give in. i place my cheek on top of our hands and lean into the couch. i fall asleep on the floor next to him.

@sturnsmadison @ryli3sworld @sunnysturniolos @ariologyy @sturncakez @sturnsxplr-25 @nickmillersn1gf

[aza-writes]

Morning Affirmations

Lip Gallagher x female!reader

Requested: no

Summary: Lip walks in on his girlfriend singing to the younger kids while she gets them ready for the day. Takes place in season 4 after Liam gets home from the hospital

Warnings: few curse words, mentions of drug use (Fiona in jail) but overall, it’s just tons of FLUFF

A/N: inspired by “I love my body” by @mothermoon on TikTok. Might rewrite something similar for dad!lip, lmk what you think. Got bored before lab and wrote this

The floorboards creaked under every step Lip took to get down to the kitchen. He wasn’t too concerned with anything too wrapped up in his mind until two sweet voices pull him out.

“I love my body from my…” 

“Head to my toes.” 

Liam’s voice was hard to hear, even in the quietness of the unusually empty Gallagher house. Everyone was already at school or wherever they ran off to today—leaving Lip home alone to take care of some things. 

Liam has only been home from the hospital for two days, leaving Lip and the rest of the family still scrambling without Fiona running the show. Lip had school off today, some random college holiday that didn’t make sense for a lot of people, but they took it anyway. 

Lip had been out of bed since 5 that morning, unsure if it was considered a late night or an early morning due to the fact he hadn’t slept for more than a few hours the night before. His mind was going a million miles an hour, mixed with him worrying himself sick about Liam and going to check on him every thirty minutes. Every time he would get up from his bed, y/n would sit up, too. Her concerned look was always dismissed with a quick “go back to sleep” or “I’ll be back soon” from Lip. The “soon” in question was around five to ten minutes of Lip just sitting in front of Liam’s bed, watching his chest rise and fall. 

Y/n stayed up and waited for Lip the first few times, but soon enough her eyes got too heavy for her to ignore. Even with the extra sleep, caffeine would be her best friend today. 

Lip’s mind was still groggy as he trudged down the stairs, stress and sleep deprivation felt like chains were strapped to the back of his ankles. He barely made out the words y/n and Liam were exchanging. 

“I love my face…” She lingered for a second, allowing Liam to think about the next verse. She smiles and continued on. “My-” 

“Eyes, my mouth my nose.” Lip could help but smile at the sight of Liam touching every body part mentioned. He clearly knew this song, yet Lip couldn’t think of any of the words. When ever you would sing it to one of his younger siblings, all he could do was hear your voice. The kindergarten-teacher-like tone was enough for him to abandon all of his thoughts and focus on you. 

“I like the way I look when I look in the mirror.” Liam didn’t have to wait for y/n this time, he sang it with her. Their voices both were quiet, almost scared to wake anyone up, but the house stayed quiet. It was just those three in that house, the outside world didn’t matter. 

“I stand a little closer just to see a little clearer.” Both of their smiles were beaming. Liam giggling at y/n’s little tickles all over his belly and neck. Lip’s grew too. Y/n was so amazing with the kids, Lip could’ve sworn it as always been this way. Y/n and Lip, Lip and y/n. They belonged together. 

Everyone in his family loved her. Carl made her a gift out of melted spoons and forks, Debbie demands they have a girls day at least once a month. Shit, even Frank called her “one of the good ones.” Technically it was after she downed a shot of vodka without even wincing, but he still liked her non the less. 

Y/n turns around smiling, it only growing when she finally sees Lip. 

“Good morning babe.” 

“Morning babe!” Liam repeats immediatly, causing Lip and y/n to giggle with him. 

Lip pours two cups of coffe before heading to the kitchen table. “Good morning to you.” He sets the coffe right in front of y/n while kissing her cheek. He carefully set his down too and kissed Liams cheek. “Good morning little man.” 

[dearly-somber]

stand still (i’m sniffing you) | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, f2l (friends-to-lovers), (not actually) unrequited love, pining, mutual pining, high school!au, werewolf/shifter!au, fluff, domestic fluff

-> w/c. 802

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. Inspired by that one clip where Jungkook back-hugs Hoseok while they’re practicing 🥹🥹

-> collection. mini-series

-> warnings. None!!

-> started. Mon., Feb. 19th, 2024 @ 21:42

-> fin. Mon., Feb. 19th, 2024 @ 22:19

-> edited. Tues., Feb. 20th, 2024 @ 07:06

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Jungkook has a stronger sense of smell than the rest of his pack. Partially because his wolf is simply better at it (much to the pack’s chagrin, because Jungkook never fails to bring it up during their biweekly pissing contests), but also because he’d been blessed with a good sense of smell even in his human form.

Something is burning a street down? Jungkook can smell it.

Someone took a shit in the backyard because they were too lazy to shift and do it inside where they could flush it? Jungkook can smell it (and he’s going to make it everyone else’s problem).

Y/N comes over without letting him know and—wait, what?

He sticks his head out of his room like an excited cartoon character. “Bunny?”

Jennie glowers at him as she’s walking down the stairs, shaking her head with a sigh. “She’s not even halfway up the pavement.”

Jungkook frowns, feeling a prickle of embarrassment race up the back of his neck. “A-and! You know she’s here!”

“Yeah, ‘cause I can hear her,” Jennie sasses, scoffing with a grin so shit-eating Jungkook thinks his eye twitches, “not because I’m so honed in on her scent that I know she’s coming from a mile away.”

“Okay it was not a mi—Y/N!”

She huffs as Jungkook barrels into her, stumbling back ever so slightly. Jungkook feels his wolf wagging his tail like the love-struck mutt he is, pulling back at Y/N’s signature okay, that’s enough pat-on-the-back she does whenever she deems a hug “over”.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” He can’t help but speak loudly, wondering if his eyes are sparkling—cliche, sure, but he remembers Yoongi mentioning it once, and it hasn’t left his mind ever since.

Y/N laughs (Jungkook’s heart soars in his chest), shaking hee head as she drops a duffel bag next to the coffee table, walking toward the kitchen with Jungkook hot on her heels.

“I wasn’t planning coming over but my mom dropped me off to go to the library and she isn’t picking me up until five, so I decided to come over and hang out.”

That explains it! Jungkook wondered why Y/N smelt more bookish than usual today. It’s always present under her daffodil-raisin combo, but it makes sense why it’s so much stronger today. He imagines her sitting in the library for hours on end, fully immersed in a book, and the thought makes him smile like a fool.

Jungkook is hit with the sudden, overwhelming urge to smell you. Fueled by his excitement at a surprise-visit and the whims of his wolf, he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest and pressing his nose to the back of your neck. His nose scrunches happily as he inhales your scent, first in short, wolfish little huffs, and then in longer, more appreciative inhales which infiltrate all his senses.

He waddles into the kitchen clinging to Y/N’s back, vaguely aware of the conversation she’s started with Rosé, Seokjin and Jisoo (who are busy making dinner), too focused on keeping his nose scrunched to the back of her neck to hear (or truly care about) the specifics.

“Jungkook-ah,” Y/N says softly, reaching up to touch his hands.

“Stay still,” he huffs, feeling a tingle run up his arms when she shivers at his breath on her neck. “I’m sniffing you,” he mumbles, swaying her from side to side as they come to a standstill in the middle of the kitchen.

Y/N snorts, and he imagines she has a smile on her face.

“Yah!” Seokjin yells, maneuvering around them with a pot of rice held close to his chest. “I’m trying to cook!”

“Yeah!” Rosé frowns, roughly mixing what Jungkook now realizes is kimchi. “Get a room!”

“Kook,” Y/N starts.

The whine he lets out dies in the back of his throat when she reaches up over her shoulder to palm his hair, gently scrunching her fingers in the messy strands. “Lemme help cook dinner and then we can play some Mortal Combat before I leave, hm?”

Waiting until the heat in the tips of his ears cools a little, Jungkook gives a curt little nod of his head (blatantly ignoring his wolf’s request to nip your shoulder). He inhales long and hard before finally letting you go.

Y/N then very casually turns to help the trio in the kitchen as Jungkook plops onto the couch in between Lisa and Hoseok with a satisfied sigh, practically sitting on top of them.

He yelps, rubbing the back of his head when he feels Hoseok smack him over the head with a pointed look.

“What?” he says, high-pitched and pouting.

Lisa just laughs, shaking her head as she scrolls through her phone. “You’re hopeless, Kook.”

<- prev | next ->

[alltaternotot]

The Recovery Plan | N. MacKinnon

Summary: Nathan and Y/N have a date planned, but a nasty cold gets in the way.

WC: 2K

CW: Sick fic! Bad communication, slight insecure reader, so the tiniest little bit of angst. Tooth rotting fluff, Nathan is a sweetheart. Confessions, swearing, lightly proofread. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hart trophy and best boyfriend award goes to this fella!

<><><><>

You let your phone ring and ring, then go silent, the third call coming through and going to voicemail.

One thing everyone knows, you, his teammates, the media, basically the whole hockey-enjoying public, is that Nathan MacKinnon is a health nut. Like, twenty-four hours a day, never shuts off kind of health nut. In the few months you had been exclusive, he had maybe three cheat days, and had never seen you sick. So when you woke up with chills, a fever, a cough, and a head stuffed to the brim with pressure, you decided to let Nate’s calls go to voicemail and curl up in your cocoon of blankets.

He was leaving in a few days for a long, important road trip, and you were not going to be the reason Nate couldn’t play. A cold was absolutely unacceptable to pass along to him. No amount of phone ringing or anything else could convince you otherwise. You would just have to instacart some NyQuil and some soup and tough it out solo. You were not going to bother him with your issues when he had much more important things to be worrying about.

The problem was, today was Nate’s off day, and the original plan was to meet up at your favorite cafe for a light lunch, then take a trip to Red Rocks. There was absolutely no way that was happening now. You hoped he would just assume you were tired and make his own rain check of the date. You didn’t let the thoughts swirl too long before falling asleep.

Nathan was completely and utterly worried.

You had never blown him off like this, not once in your year-ish long friendship or your few months of dating. He knew you always had your phone on you, and there really wasn’t a good reason to not have it. He was calling from the cafe, now 15 minutes past your arranged meet time. After dialing you about five times, he dialed Miles Wood instead, who happened to live in the same complex as you.

“Hey Dogg,” Woody answered, “what’s up man?”

“Hey, um, have you seen Y/N? I’ve called her a bunch, we were supposed to meet up but she isn’t picking up the phone.” Nate explained, hearing a faint hmm on the other end.

“I haven’t. I’m a ways out from home otherwise I would go check for you. Maybe she forgot?” Woody offered, secretly hoping it wasn’t that because of the awkwardness that would ensue if that was the case.

“Ok, I’ll go check on her. Thanks Woody.” He said, and hung up the phone after their goodbyes.

He threw on a cap and his sunglasses, making sure he had all of his essentials before locking up and getting in the car. You had given him a spare key in case of anything, so it was going to be no problem getting in. He just hoped for the best, but still assumed the worst secretly. He had a nasty habit of doing so sometimes.

Once he arrived at your complex, admittedly speeding a little to get there, he found your car still parked in its reserved spot. That was slightly relieving. He basically skidded into the guest spot and hopped out, locking up quickly. He chose to take the stairs up to your floor, deeming it faster than waiting in the lobby for the elevator. Your door was locked, understandably, the irrational thoughts slowly leaving his anxious mind. He slid the key into the lock, twisting and opening the door softly to a dark apartment.

Not a single light was on, the only light coming in from the window in the living space. It was very, very quiet, unusual for the space when you were in it. He loved how you lit up every room you graced. Things were tidy and normal, so no crazy robbery and kidnapping. He roamed around, looking for a sign from you in the kitchen, the living space, and the balcony, finding nothing.

Finally, he came to your bedroom, slowly twisting the handle in case you were inside, he didn’t want to startle you if you were. He noticed the black out curtains drawn, the room completely dark save for your salt lamp in the corner. Your floor was messy, tissues littering the ground and stacked high in the trash can. Your phone was on the nightstand, plugged in face down. Your bed was an absolute mountain of blankets unlike anything he had ever seen, just a tuft of your tangled hair sticking out the top on the pillow.

“Oh, baby.” He muttered to himself, a pang of guilt washing over him.

Now he understood. His girl was sick and sleeping while he was definitely ringing her phone off the hook. He stepped closer, trying to find you under all of that fabric. Your head was poking out onto your pillows, hair a mess and cheeks blazing red. You had a crumpled tissue in your hand. He stuck his hand out, running the back along your forehead. You were roasting under there, but he could feel your body shivering from the chills. You stirred, but didn’t wake.

He quickly stood straight, leaving you with a quiet click of the door. He locked up, dashing back down to the car and speeding to the local Walgreens. He filled his basket with all sorts of cold and flu necessities: medicine, cough drops, peppermint tea, your favorite Gatorade, a few of those crackable instant cold compresses, and a thermometer. He hoped no one would stop him in here, wanting to be as fast as he could. Luckily it didn’t appear that anyone knew or cared that he was there, shouting a thanks over his shoulder.

The next stop was Whole Foods, so he could grab some chicken noodle soup that was remarkably close to how his own mother made hers, when Nathan or his sister were sick as children. He threw in a sandwich for him to eat later, an extra couple of your favorite drinks and a chocolate croissant for you when you were feeling up to it. He checked himself out, making his way back to your apartment as quickly as he could. He walked back in with everything, trying to be as quiet as possible. He quickly set up a little tray of soup, medicine, and gatorade. He heated up some water in your kettle and steeped a couple of the tea bags. He cracked the cold compress and wrapped it in a paper towel before making his way back to your room.

He set the tray down on your desk, walking over to your window to crack it under the curtains, airing out the stuffy, overheated space. He checked the thermometer, making sure it was calibrated and working. Now he could finally sit down on the edge of your bed, and start the Nathan MacKinnon recovery plan.

He placed the thermometer on your forehead, dragging it across and down, 102.2F flashing back at him when it stopped thinking with a beep. That made him worried, more than anything else. He grabbed the cold compress, resting it on your forehead so, so softly. You stirred again, this time waking up. The throbbing pressure in your head had only gotten worse, the pain now rattling your jaw and your teeth. You were sweating under all of those blankets, but so impossibly cold at the same time. You groaned in pain before rolling over into a heavy mass that was dipping your side of the bed. Nate’s hand found your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in feathery dashes.

“N-Nate?” Your voice coming out hoarse and patchy. “No, no you need to get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, babe. You need to break this fever.” He said, his hand sliding down to brush over your shoulders.

“No, you can’t get sick because of me. You have so much to worry about right now, I’ll be fine.” You insisted, watching his face slide into a sad frown through sleepy, delirious vision. “I’m just gonna instacart s-some meds. Go home before you catch this.”

“I beat you to it already. I’m not leaving so you can stop trying to convince me.” He crouched down, “do you think you can sit up to take something?”

You nodded, gingerly sitting up, trying to keep the pain from getting any worse. The blankets slid down as you sat up against the head board, now noticing that you had slept until 3:30pm. You guys would have been enjoying the beauty of Red Rocks by now. Nate grabbed the tray of goodies from your desk, setting it down gently. He popped the two gel caps out of the package, silently asking for your hand before unscrewing the cap to the Gatorade.

“We need to keep you hydrated, so keep taking sips of that,” he mentioned, watching you weakly swallow the cold medicine. “I hope you like chicken noodle soup, it’s very good.”

He picked up the spoon, taking some and guided it to your lips, letting you take a few bites. It definitely helped to settle your stomach, but chewing was painful. You honestly had no strength for more than half of the little bowl of soup, so Nate picked it up and returned it to the desk, placing the Gatorade next to you again. This time, Nate rounded the bed, climbing in and grabbing the remote, earning little hoarse nonononono’s from you.

He didn’t listen, of course, just adjusting so your head was resting in his lap, pulling a couple of the endless blankets up over your shoulder. He laid his hand gently over the cold compress, keeping it in place, while he picked an easy watch kind of show. Finally he sent a text to Woody, letting him know you were ok and that they were going to have a sleepy day in. His hand found your head, dragging his fingers through the tangles so you wouldn’t have to brush a huge birds nest out of your hair when you were back on your feet.

“Nate, please go, I can’t even imagine getting you sick. You guys have h-hard division rival teams coming up, they need you more than-“ you tried to reason.

“I told you already that I’m not leaving. Your fever was pretty high, and you needed to eat and drink something. I’m here to support you, whatever that looks like, and today it looks like this.” He explained, calmly and softly like it was the easiest decision he had ever made, “plus, I’ve been with you the last two days, slept here, and I haven’t gotten sick. And if I do get sick, I’ll figure it out with the staff. I’ve done it before.”

“I ruined the whole day, and my body hurts, and I don’t want you to have to deal with me right now.” You said, your eyes beginning to mist up with frustrated tears, “please, I promise I can deal with it.”

He realized you had begun to cry softly, a couple of tears dripping onto his shorts, “oh baby, you didn’t ruin anything!” He turned your body so you were laying face up, his hands coming to brush away your tears, “Also, I’m not dealing with you, I want to be there for you when you’re struggling. I don’t want you to handle it by yourself. This is just what you do when you love someone.” He rambled, the words coming out quicker than he could think.

He… loves you?

That’s the first time either of you had said it. He had planned to take you on a nice date, give you flowers, wine and dine the hell out of you, before finally telling you he loved you. Of course he knew he loved you, so he gave up the momentary wave of apprehension and went with it. No time like the present, even if that present was stuck in bed with a brutal cold.

“You love me?” You asked, choking on the words a little bit.

“Yeah, I do.” He said, looking deep into your eyes for any sign of rejection, “and I want you to be ok, so rest. We can talk about it more when you’re ready to.”

You turned back towards the tv again, Nate grabbing the cold compress to put back on your head. You close your eyes, feeling sleep call you. Nate returned to carding his fingers through your hair, keeping a slow and steady pace. Every once in a while he would run the compress over your neck and shoulders, trying to cool your burning body. The meds were already helping to bring the fever down. He could feel your breath begin to even out against his leg.

“Nate?” You asked, almost too quiet to be heard.

“Hmm?” He hummed, leaning down to hear you better.

“I love you too.” You admitted, feeling his lips press into your head before sleep overtook you again.

<><><><>

:)

[actual-changeling]

Family breakfasts with Tommy have become somewhat of a routine.

He comes over on the days Maria leaves for her work early (which is more often than not), eats her granola and drinks Joel's coffee, and they talk about whatever they feel like, though Ellie loves asking him about his recent patrols. She kicks her feet up into Joel's lap and draws it out as long as she can before sprinting all the way to school, but it's worth it if it means just one more story.

Today, though, she's late. Really fucking late. It's not her fault she got a bit distracted by the new book Tommy had brought her last afternoon (it's about SPACE Joel, that trumps school and sleep by a mile), but now she had about five minutes to get out of the house and into the classroom. Ellie barrels down the stairs, bag slung over her shoulder, and has to catch herself on the banister to not slip on the floor once she jumps over the last few steps

"Careful, baby," Joel calls over, worriedly watching her put on her shoes while standing on one leg, jumping to keep her balance. Tommy, on the other hand, looks majorly amused, and she can hear him chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, old man, I can keep my balance just fine."

She ties her laces so she doesn't trip once she starts running and is about to leave when Joel whistles to call her back.

"Breakfast, Ellie."

Fucking Joel and his stupid rules, but Ellie spins on the spot and uses the kitchen door frame to propel herself toward the counter and pick up two apples for later, stuffing them into her bag with a happy? thrown over her shoulder.

"Mh, have a nice day at school, kiddo," he tries to sound all parental, but she can hear the softness bleeding through and just knows he's holding back a grin. Ellie crosses the distance between them with two big steps and slings her arms around his neck, allowing herself the luxury of melting against him for a few precious seconds when he gently rubs his thumbs over her wrists and lifts her clasped hands to press a kiss to her knuckles.

With a heavy sigh and a silent fuck you to whoever invented math, she pulls back, but not without pressing a kiss to Joel's cheek, basking in the smile he gives her; it's so easy to make him happy, and she does it as much as she can.

Ellie can feel Tommy's eyes on them, he always watches them with a gleeful mixture of amusement and affection, and over the last year, he has settled into the warm parts of her heart, too. He is right between her and the door, sipping on his coffee, so, really, it's not even a conscious choice, more of a reflex.

Her hand comes down on the table when she steps toward the front door and away from Joel, balancing herself so she can lean around the back of his chair and press a quick kiss to his cheek, too. Ellie bites back the small laugh bubbling up when she sees the expression on his face, mouth slightly open, eyes seeking help from Joel, who simply shrugs and picks up his cup again.

Another minute ticks by on the kitchen clock, and she is finally on her way out, the goodbye she yells at them cut off when the front door slams close behind her.

-

("What the hell was that?"

"She is laying her claim on you."

"Whatever that means, Joel, she's your kid, not mine."

"Better get ready to give up your personal space and half your closet."

"My clothes, really?"

"You never know what she might do next, prepare for the worst."

"Are you sure she's not yours? 'Cause this sounds oddly familiar."

"Oh, she is, she just found me all on her own."

"Glad she did, haven't seen you smile like that in twenty years."

"Give it a week and I'll tell you the same thing.")

[verifiefangirl]

I've been rewatching Shadowhunters and just bear with me.

If you want to hit peak sad vibes read it with this is me trying.

Azriel is training with the girls and he notices Gywn seems off. Her smile wasn't as dazzling. Instead of her usual irreverence there seems to be a heavy weight on her shoulders. Her usual teasing and goading non-existence. Azriel is usually observant but he'd been paying special attention to the priestess lately. Even Nesta hadn't sensed something was bothering her yet. He knew better than to push but his eyes stayed glued to the other half of the ring throughout the whole session even though she was technically Cassian's charge.

Most of the trainees had dispersed after class but Gywn always went the extra mile to get a half an hour in alone. On a usual day, Az would either offer his teachings if his schedule wasn't packed which seemed fewer these days with the amount of responsibilities on his plate but today he just leaned against the archway and watched, his hazel eyes lost in thought as he catalogued her moves and her seemingly building frustrations. As she moved to the side of the ring to leave, ignoring his presence the whole time. He gently encircled her wrist with his fingers, stopping her in place.

"Berdara." His voice was deep like gravel, his all seeing eyes flickering over her worn form. Her breathing was rough from exertion, skin wan. Their eyes locked for a brief second and the amount of pain washing through those teal eyes knocked the breath from his chest. She jerked out of his touch and continued her descent down the house stairs without looking back.

It had been couple weeks since that incident and neither had spoken since that day. The following training sessions had followed a similar pattern with Gywn's mood plummeting further. Cassian, along with the other charges made sure to give the flamed-haired, nymph a wide bearth, in and out of training.

Azriel didn't know why he chose to go to the library. His shadows had been pressing on him all day, whispering utter nonsense. He told himself it was because he needed more resources on the otherworlds and nothing to do with the Valkyrie that resided there.

Clotho bowed her head to him in greeting. You seem more restless than usual this evening, Shadowsinger.

"Just some unfinished business." He mumbled back flatly as he disappeared inbetween the stacks. His wings were tucked in tight and body stiff. His fingers skimmed over multiple tombs until he found the one he was after. On a normal occassion he would just grab his books and go back to his office but his shadows urged him to watch, to listen.

He sighed. He could already feel a migraine coming on. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten more than two hours of sleep in. His tired eyes skimmed over words and symbols. The sound of his pen scratching over parchment filling the silent air of the library.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he could feel a crick forming on his neck. He stood up to stretch, his muscles stiff from sitting for so many hours. He heard a slight shuffling coming from a level below the sound of voices. He stilled, knowing it was none of his business at all what was bothering Gywn but he went below anyway against his better judgement. His shadows were swirling like crazy around him.

He had every intention of making his presence known but stopped in his track when heard a white haired female berating Gywn. Every bone his body straightened at the tone.

"You are worthless, Gwyneth." She sniped as she slammed a tome in front of her.

"How am I supposed to read your sloppy writing." Gywn softly whispered something back that his ears couldn't make out.

"What are you good for if you can't do such a simple task that even five year olds have perfected. Mother above, you call yourself a priestess. Why have you been shackled to me? " She groaned.

Anger so hot choked Azriel. He wanted to roar at her for speaking to Gwyn who was one of the most capable people he knew in such a way. He knew that was a bad idea and took all his restraint to not defend her. He knew how as a male he was already intimidating in this place but add his darkness and shadows and he was terrifying sight, just like his father.

"I-I...I'm sorry, Merill." Gywn voice was shaky and her entire demeanour was defeated. Merill just looked at Gwyn in disgust before she stalked into another row of books.

Azriel watched as Gywn took a deep breath, trying to steady herself but he could see the tremble of her lips and the way her fingers kept opening and closing.

She turned to make a move back to the desks in the centre when she came face to face with him.

"Azriel!" Her voice conveying surprise. He could feel the shame rolling over her in waves. Her eyes were turned to the floor as her hands went behind her back.

"Are you okay?" His tone was soft but his eyes were still a hazel storm.

"Of course." She tried to play it off like it was nothing but her irreverent nature was nowhere to be found. Her lips still trembled and her eyes were like sea glass as they glistened.

"Gywn..." It was one of the few times he used her name and it seemed to break something inside of her. The dam had finally broken and a sobbed strangled in her throat as her hands went to her face to cover her tears.

"Everything she said is true, I couldn't save my sister, I couldn't complete the bloodrite on my own and I can't even write some damn notes for Merill. How can I call myself a priestess let alone a Valkyrie." Her body shook from how hard the tears were pouring out of her.

"She's wrong and you are too." He merely shrugged, knowing this would infuriate her. He could handle her annoyance, her anger, her teasing. Anything but that hopeless look in her eyes.

"You don't know anything about me." She scathed. He shrugged again, feigning calmness when he was anything but.

"I know enough to know this isn't you. You are a fighter and a scholar and the bestest friend Nesta has ever had. You are a Carythian and a Valkyrie and a Priestess. That is more achievements than most would ever accomplish in 10 lifetimes and sometimes what we think to be our greatest weakness is our biggest strength."

The Nephelle philosophy.

Gwyn blinked at him, stunned for a second.

"Thank you." the sound a mere whisper, tears still streaming down her face. She tentatively wrapped her arms around him. Both of their bodies went stiff. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been embraced by a women whom he wasn't in a physical relationship with. She made to pull away, clearly finding it too awkward but he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in closer. His breath ruffling her strands of hair. She melted into him now and his fingers gentled over her head as his eyes fluttered shut and he just enjoyed this moment. He felt warm and...and something else he couldn't quite name the emotion but it was nice to have a friend such as Gwyn. Who was fierce and loyal and went to the mat over and over again and she was here, hugging him and thanking him...He felt good..in a way he hadn't for many centuries now.

Thank you for listening to my ramblings. I have no doubt I'll have more Az inspo as I continue to rewatch the show and see more of the snacc off a man on screen and the way they both have that long they both have a long suffering vibe about them. Someone give these two characters a break with pina coladas

[heyidkyay]

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

Part Twenty-Two

Butterflies, summertime, all belong to your creation!

A/n: HII:) The whole band is finally in Spain and I'm really hoping that everyone enjoys this chapter, it took a while to piece together, had to look back at old parts too many times to count, but there's finally some well deserved cuteness and fluff in here! I think this has one of my favourite G and Birdie encounters yet... Anyway, hope you like it x

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

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

Warnings: TOO MANY EMOTIONS, little bit of dark humour I hope no one takes offence to, mentions of anxiety and inner struggles, touches on a bad relationship with a parent(/family), BUT there finally is some fluff!!

Masterlist

--

Outside, it was warm and lovely, but inside the villa… it was anything but.

Since I’d gotten home the previous afternoon, with even more medication strapped under my belt and a freshly printed release form in hand, the atmosphere had been tense.

George was staying with us- that was probably the quickest way to explain things.

What with the whole band coming to Tenerife and a villa far too big for just two people, it only made sense for all the boys to crash there too. Plus, Matty had made the argument about them making use of the space to work on their album, knowing full-well I still felt guilty about the whole ordeal. 

It had been cruel, but it’d worked, and so I’d come home from the hospital to find George’s suitcase in the room one over from mine and a ginormous pair of shoes in the entryway.

The latter had stilled me in place when I’d first spotted them, bringing back one too memories as I’d stumbled in through the front door. Matty’s excited chatter had been the only thing to draw me back to the present, as he’d called out to George, who’d made himself quite at home on the settee, whilst simultaneously planning things with Hann, who was on the phone.

I’d gone straight to bed after that, feigning exhaustion, which Matty had believed but George had raised an eyebrow to. He’d known better than to question it though, especially with the thin ice he was currently treading on, but I’d felt his eyes follow me all the way up the stairs.

Today was a new day though. I’d woken up, showered, made myself a light breakfast (doctors orders), which had gone down quite well with the new anti-sickness tablets they had me taking, as well as the stronger dose of pain relief I'd been given. I was ready for anything it could throw at me. 

Matty had barrelled down the stairs not long after though, talking a mile a minute about flights and times and some other nonsense I hadn't been able to make out. I’d actually had to ask George what he’d been going on about when the giant had rolled in from the patio outside.

He hadn’t looked like he’d slept much, but it’d been hard to tell from behind the big black sunnies he wore. And I’d bit my tongue to keep from asking just how long exactly he’d been out there, whether or not he’d avoided coming back in once he’d spotted me downstairs at the kitchen counter. 

Turned out though, both Ross and Hann were already at Heathrow airport and boarding a direct flight to Spain. Hann had just texted Matty saying that they’d be landing in the next couple hours, or so he hoped. 

Which is what ultimately led to me waiting on the front-step of the villa like an excited little kid, waiting for the two to pull up, but also using it as an avid excuse to avoid George further. 

It wasn’t long before the sound of tires had my head lifting just in time to spot a sleek car coming to a slow stop at the curb. I grinned at the first man who emerged from the backseat of the cab and hurried my way down to meet them.

“Wahey! Look who it is!” Ross exclaimed with a big grin once he spotted me, hair brushing against the length of his shoulders whilst his squinted eyes, hidden behind brown lenses, took me in. He opened his arms out wide as I approached and was gentle with me when I leapt into them, chuckling as he spun the two of us around.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” I breathed into his neck, unable to dampen my sudden rush of happiness.

I squeezed him once more before he finally dropped me down onto the balls of my bare feet. The pavement was warm beneath them, but not hot enough to have me prancing about like a prat trying to avoid burning the soles. Matty had learnt that lesson the hard way our second day here, when he’d made the mistake of going out to pick up a takeaway with no shoes on.

“Couldn’t let the three of you have all the fun now, could we?” My head darted away from Ross and quickly over in the direction of the boot, just in time to see Hann rounding it.

“Adam!” I was quick to rope him into a giant hug too, asking after Carly and about the things I’d missed back home just as Matty and George sauntered their way down the drive.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ross whistled once Matty had slipped the cab driver a few euros and the car had begun to pull away. I glanced over in time to find him staring up at the house. “You said it was big, but this is maddening.”

Matty snorted whilst I sidled up next to the bearded bassist, his reaction had been similar to that of mine. “Thought you’d be used to this sort of thing now. What with being in a big band and having Matthew here as your frontman, the diva.”

The rest of the guys chuckled when Matty swatted at my arm, but I merely shrugged him off before I made my way over to where a lone suitcase stood. I’d just been about to grasp at the handle when, almost on command, all four men cried out causing me to jump away from the thing with my hands surrendered.

My eyes were wide when I turned back to them, “What the fuck! Is there a bomb or summat in there?”

“No,” Hann dragged out around an airy chuckle, skirting by me to grab it instead, I frowned when none of the guys made the slightest huff at the action. “It’s alright I’ll get it.”

My brow only furrowed further when I made a grab for one of the duffles that had been left on the curb, before it was hastily swept up by a smiling Matty. I chewed at the insides of my cheeks to keep from screaming.

“I’m not going to break, you know?” I told the four of them sternly, looking each one of them in the eye. “I can carry a fucking bag inside.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to.” Matty retorted, grinning like that had been the right thing to say to me just then.

My chest rose with my next irritated breath, but Ross was there wrapping an arm around my shoulders before I could release it. 

“Alright! Show me this pool then, hey? Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you first showed me, practically dreamt I was swimming in it on the flight over.” He told me, leading us further away, and reluctantly I allowed it, muttering under my breath whilst the rest of them debated amongst themselves on how to lug the bags in without Ross’s help.

This was going to be long trip.

—

“What’s with the evil eye?”

I jumped slightly at the sound of Ross’s voice, glancing up at him when he came to stand just over my shoulder, my brow pinched. 

“Do you always have to eat apples like that?” I questioned him, wrinkling my nose as I swiped my upper arm free from a mixture of fruit juice and Ross slobber, “Right over me too.”

Ross grinned, uncaring. “And what’s wrong with the way I eat apples?”

“Horses are more civilised.” I rebuked and he snorted in turn.

“But you wouldn’t change me for the world though.” Ross replied with a sarky smile, wrapping one arm over my shoulder and around my collar, “Just like I wouldn’t change you bein’ a moody mare.”

I pursed my lips but didn’t shove him away. “I’m not moody, just hot.”

Ross hummed and I knew that he knew I was lying- although, it was growing warmer and warmer the more minutes that passed.

“So that glare you’ve got going on is just for the heat, yeah? Not the twat sat over there in that deck chair?”

I’d been made. With a heavy sigh I crossed my arms over my chest and fought against the petulant pout that wanted to overtake my features.

“He’s sat right under my tree, Ross!” I groaned, sounding like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. The bassist laughed and I allowed my body to melt further into his embrace, letting him hold me up.

“Sort of recognise it now you’ve said.” He murmured, then I felt him shrug, “Just go and tell him to piss off if you want it back.”

I pulled a face.

“What, why not?” Ross chuckled down at me, I ignored the loud chomp he made just above my head.

“I’m avoiding him.” I told him simply.

“Oh really? How’s that going for you then?” He asked sarcastically. 

It was my turn then to shrug, which was a hard task considering I was still cocooned in his arms. “How’d you think.”

Ross snorted softly, “Ten days, muggins. Ten days and you’ll be home free.”

I groaned again, slumping as I felt my head fall back and eyes close. “Isn’t it bad enough me feeling so crap? What did I do to deserve this much karma?”

“Definitely a serial killer in another life.”

I frowned at the quick answer Ross gave and lifted my chin up to better see him. “You had that on hand.”

He gave me a lopsided grin, “It’s that smile you get when someone’s pissed you off.”

I laughed, knowing what he meant, and relaxed again. 

We paused there for a moment, basking in the peace, before Ross went to speak again, his voice softer than it had been. “You in much pain then?”

I inhaled slowly, already regretting having brought up that I felt crap. “Just all these pills.”

His arm tightened its hold so that his free hand could squeeze my bicep. “Don’t have to pretend with me, yeah? If shit gets too much, let me know.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, thinking about how the rest of the guys had begun walking on eggshells around me again, but his offer was too sincere. “Really I’m okay.” I assured him instead, then tried for another laugh, “Just want me tree back.”

He did chuckle and I squirmed slightly when he knocked his chin into the side of my head, tickling my ear.

“Well then, let’s go piss G off.” He decided, loosening his hold to drag me off towards the garden. “If we try hard enough, maybe he’ll just sod off and we won’t have to say a word to him.”

“Fingers crossed.” I laughed.

—

By early evening Ross and Hann’s first day here, we were all getting ready to walk ourselves into town, the guys having decided amongst themselves that they wanted to go out for dinner and see the sights after we’d been cooped up all day.

I’d thrown on a strappy midi dress, something that hid a lot of skin but still kept me cool, and paired it with a pair of light samba’s to match. I was just tying the laces on them, perched on the bottom step of the staircase and listening to everyone else rush about getting ready, when someone trailed down behind me.

I knew it was him without looking, immediately having recognised the falls of his feet, but the hesitant pause about midway had also been a dead giveaway. 

It made sense that it’d be him though. The two of us had always been the first ones ready, it’d been an ongoing thing for years now, and typically we’d make proper use of the time we got alone together before the chaos truly started. 

I fought the urge to reminisce on shared kisses and quiet whispers in crowded hallways as I slid over a tad to accommodate him, figuring he’d just slip by me and wait in the lounge for the rest of them. But it was just as I’d finished tying my first shoe that he sat down beside me. 

Immediately I stilled at the gesture, but that was the only response I gave his unanticipated presence, swallowing down whatever confusion I felt before I tugged at my remaining lace.

Breathing shallow, I could see his fingers tapping away aimlessly against the side of his knee next to me, just out of the corner of my eye. Most believed that the tic related to his job as a drummer, tap tap tap, and in a way I suppose it did, but those who knew him, knew better. Drumming was just something George could always revert back to, something he found solace in, it gave him a moments peace in the mayhem his mind created. That tapping was a nervous habit sure, although other times it helped him to keep track of his countless thoughts.

I tried not to glance over at him, even as I struggled with my right shoelace- you’d have thought I’d have figured out how to tie them with a cast on by now, but no. It was still a task and a half. 

I grew frustrated easily, muttering under my breath when the aglet got caught again on the plastic which encased my palm. “Fucking can’t wait to get you off.”

George’s loud and obnoxious snort made me jump, which inevitably caused me to fumble with the lace. I shot him a heated glare at the fact that I'd have to start over again. 

“What’s so funny?”

Looking at him now, even in the dim entryway light, I could finally see everything I’d been missing out on from the distance I’d created between us. The moles that dotted this side of his face, the faint stubble which now lined his jaw and chin, the squinting of his eyes as he struggled to dampen his growing amusement.

“Nothing.” He replied, though it was said around a huffy chuckle that he hadn’t meant to let escape. I raised a brow in retort and he relented quicker than I was used to. Normally he loved to bicker with me, really got a kick out of it. “Just, what you said innit.”

My forehead furrowed and I thought back to the words I’d said, before it finally hit me. I couldn’t help the reluctant laugh that bubbled from my lips, but I rolled my eyes at him with a minute smile. “Yeah well, you should be so lucky.”

He hummed softly and I had to look away then, instead choosing to focus back on my shoe. Two loops were typically easier than one these days and, if I didn’t fumble with the left lace too much, I could usually just adjust the tightness it once I’d finally tucked it through. 

I bit back an unearthly grunt when it slipped through my fingers again, far past the road of regret for having not just thrown on a pair of sandals.

“Here, let me.” I heard George say and before I knew what was happening, he’d gently taken hold of my ankle and pulled it up over his knee. 

I was quick to hold down the end of my dress, not wanting it to ride up, and swallowed past the lump which had rapidly formed in the back of my throat at the action. We weren’t meant to be talking, he wasn’t even supposed to be here, let alone tying my laces for me! 

I inhaled sharply at the feel of his thumb pressing against my skin. 

“I could do it myself.” I muttered to him quietly. He nodded, deft fingers fast as they wrapped themselves around a laced loop and tugged, tying a perfect bow.

“I know.” He replied just as softly, then peered over at me, and I wondered, briefly, what he saw.

A loud thump directly above us had us both startling out of whatever staring contest we’d lost ourselves in and I was quick to take back my leg, resettling myself in the position I’d taken earlier, actively avoiding meeting his eye. “Thanks.”

George coughed lightly but didn’t make the effort to move away like I thought he would. I fiddled with the straps of my dress for a moment, and it was then that my eyes seemed to make their way back over to him on their own accord.

He was dressed nicely, I noted. Clad in a light linen shirt, a contrast to all the black I’d seen him in lately, and a pair of washed blue jeans. I had to stop myself from reaching out towards him when my gaze finally caught the butterfly that had been embroidered into the thigh. It was bright, pretty. 

“I like the jeans.” I found myself stating, and although I kept my head trained towards the floor, I felt his gaze skitter over towards me.

“Got them last tour.” He murmured, fingernail picking at a stitch on top of the butterfly’s left wing. “Weird though, ’cause I thought of you when I first saw ‘em.”

Internally I screamed to myself. Why did he have to go and add that detail?

Then mindlessly my hand came to a rest on the right side of my ribcage, where we both knew a tiny butterfly tattoo was hidden away. Only now it was framed by scars, none of which he’d seen. 

“Oi, Hann where did you say my roll-on was again?” Came Matty’s loud shout from the landing just above us and I peered up to find him dangling over the banister, as though he figured it would further his voice the closer he got to the opposing door.

“In the bathroom cabinet!” Adam responded, far enough away that I strained to even hear it.

“The fuck you put it in there for?” Muttered Matty, exhaling a heavy huff as he started to push himself off of the banister, but that was when he caught sight of the two of us down below. He shot George and I the cheekiest smirk. “‘Ello, what’s all this then? Do I smell reconciliation in the air?”

I rolled my eyes, but my left ear had started ringing just after his hello and the sound of his voice quickly became muted. With a wince, I raised a hand and pressed a finger to the outer shell, something that typically helped dull the incessant sound.

Peering back up, I saw that Matty was no longer there and so I looked to George to see if I could read much of his expression, determine whether or not the curly haired twat had made the situation we were in any more uncomfortable.

But when I did, George was already looking back at me, hooded eyes trained on the hand I held against my ear, as well as my undeniable grimace. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked and I made it out, only just, by focusing on his lips.

“Ringing.” I said and realised I’d spoken a bit too loudly when his head jerked back a tad, apparently having caught him off guard. “Sorry, just- don’t worry, it’ll go in a sec.”

George’s worried eyes darted between mine when he nodded, and my face grew warm at the thought of him having to witness me like this. I went to stand, an excuse about needing some air already on the tip of my tongue, before he caught me. I glanced down to where his fingers gently brushed against the skin of my arm.

“What do you need?”

I blinked, surprised by the question.

I went to shake my head, wave him off, but his face turned imploring. “Come on, just tell me.”

The ringing felt like a tidal wave had just been funnelled through my ear canal and the sharp pain, which usually accompanied it, shot down my jaw. I didn’t care for the fact that it was George stood there anymore, or how his persona had shifted so quickly when he’d seen the distress I was suddenly in. So I let him help. I let him in.

“Pain relief.” I told him through gritted teeth. “Kitchen side.”

He dipped his head once, squeezed my elbow, then hurried off.

I, in turn, simply slumped against the staircase. Damning every deity there might’ve been for the position they’d put me in.

“Fucks sake.”

—

George had been shooting me looks all evening long. I couldn’t tell if they were of concern or question, but they were hard to ignore and even harder to avoid. 

I hadn’t mentioned the ringing I’d felt to anyone and he’d followed suit, which was something I’d much appreciated, and the whole thing had died down by the time we’d made it out the door. Though, I was still wary.

The five of us had crowded ourselves around a wooden table on the deck of a Grillhouse that sat a stretch away from the sand, it hadn’t been the first restaurant we’d passed by but was on the first street we’d wandered down. The weather was warm enough to sit out the front too, under a gazebo littered with a string of yellow fairy-lights and a long lit fire-pit. 

After settling in, we’d mainly just ordered both cold and hot tapas to pass around and share, and the guys had gotten a couple of pitchers for the table, which I’d stayed clear of. Matty, on the other hand, had folded like a deck of cards and claimed that ‘our little trip’ had ended almost three hours ago now. I’d shaken my head and laughed outwardly, stating that he’d failed to stay sober the second he’d chosen to have those glasses of cava two nights prior.

It had been nice though, sat around laughing and talking with them all. We hadn’t done something like it since my birthday dinner at Matty’s house all those weeks ago, and even then it’d been almost a year and a half before that. George and I were to blame for it, I knew that, but it was just so lovely being there with the four of them that I couldn’t bring myself to point fingers or blame. I just wanted to enjoy my time with them, not knowing how many more moments we’d get to do it again.

Ross throwing his napkin onto the table had sounded the end of dinner bell and so we’d paid and left the owner with a hefty tip for having put up with all our antics and rowdy party. Then started our walk back through the town.

“Oh, we’re so going in there!” Matty piped up the second he spotted a nightclub ahead and the lads were been quick to surrender, not that they’d put up much of a fight, most of them down to grab a couple more drinks and listen to some music. Knowing Matty and Ross they’d probably be looking for someone to take home too. 

I didn’t want to dampen the night, but I knew if I stayed with them I’d only ruin their fun. Plus, my head and ears wouldn’t thank me for it later.

So I begged off. “You know what, I’m gonna head back to the house, I’m knackered after all that food.” I laughed lightly, pressing a hand to my stomach. 

Hann and Ross were quick with their offers to join me, the latter already making plans to curl up on the sofa with a film on the giant tele, but then Matty started claiming that he’d walk me back to the villa and rejoin the lot of them later, which the other two had looked sort of okay with. But I’d hastily waved away each of their plans, not wanting to be a burden.

“No, you lot have fun. Enjoy Spain for me, yeah?” I grinned broadly, “I can grab a cab. I’m only gonna head straight to bed anyway.”

“But-” Both Ross and Matty attempted, I just shook my head.

“Honestly. I’ll be fine. More concerned about you idiots.”

The lot of them didn’t look too fond over the idea of me leaving on my own, but then George pocketed the phone he’d been so focused on during our walk over and stepped over the line of divide I’d made.

“I’m gonna go back too. Can’t be fucked with all the people, heads banging after those shots we had too.” He told them, surprising not only me but the rest of the boys as well.

“You sure, man?” Matty quizzed, brown eyes darting suspiciously over to where I stood for a split second.

George nodded at him, humming. “‘Course. Plus, I think we’ve already been made.”

We all followed the direction he’d jutted his chin in and spotted a trio of girls who’d just stumbled their way out of the club, one with their mobile already out, the other two giggling as they gawped at our group. 

Almost immediately I felt uncomfortable knowing that their eyes were on us. Which was new for me where fans were concerned. I frowned at the feeling, but then George was saying something in reply to Hann and the other three were parting ways from us, leaving George to turn and silently nod his head down the street at me.

I stepped over to join him, ignoring the becking calls I heard from behind us as we trailed back the way we’d came.

Once the shouts had finally died out and there weren’t too many large drunken groups swanning about, I had to fight to keep myself from questioning George on just what his motives had been when he’d offered to accompany me back to the house.

Albeit saying that, just because I was biting my tongue, didn’t mean that George had gotten the same memo. I looked over to him when I heard him speak.

“Want one?” He asked, and my gaze flitted down towards the Spanish pack of Camel’s he’d extended out towards me.

I wasn’t really supposed to be smoking, they’d said it would affect the healing process even weeks after surgery. And so I hadn’t touched one since the accident. Even Matty had avoided smoking around me, went to the struggle of changing clothes too whenever he’d gone through a couple whilst having been out. It’d been hard, to stop so abruptly. Even though I hadn’t been the world’s heaviest smoker, being told not to do something only made me crave it ten times harder.

So I stared down at the pack for more than a reasonable amount of time, enough to make George pause and question his offer.

“You can say no.”

I blinked and glanced up at his face, to the cigarette dangling from his bottom lip, then back down.

I didn’t want to say no, especially with the way my skin was still crawling from the few lingering looks the band typically garnered, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually do it.

So now we were at an odd sort of standstill. The two us stopped in the middle of a quiet little street, only lamps to light the way. He stood directly beneath one, gaze trained on me. My own flickered away from the pack and down to the slight movement his right hand made, where he’d just pulled something from his back pocket.

“Are you even allowed?” George asked me after a while and I wanted to shed an actual tear when he tucked the Camel’s back into his jeans to cradle a hand around the fag he had in his mouth. 

I went to nod but hesitated, unsure, then felt my head tilt sideways when I caught a glimpse of the shiny metal he held, it glinted under the light of the streetlamp.

“Why do you still have that?” I questioned him as he proceeded to light his cigarette, then watched when he lowered the lighter to peer down at it.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

What was with all these questions? Why could neither one of us just give the other a straight answer?

“‘Cause I gave it to you.” I replied, voice quiet as I took in the familiar smell of smoke that released from his parted lips.

“Exactly.” George said, flicking the old lighter over in his palm a few more times, eyes drifting up towards me again.

“You kept it because I gave it to you?” I asked for clarification, brows knitting together.

He looked back at me as though he thought I was stupid for even asking, then shrugged. “It was your dad’s. It meant something to him, then it meant something to you. Now it means something to me.”

I swallowed thickly. He was the most bewildering person I knew. Even when I felt like I had him figured out, he’d toss a spanner into the works. 

“Can I?”

His forehead pinched at my question, then he held the lighter out towards me. I just shook my head, I knew that lighter better than the back of my own hand, having carried it around with me for more than half a decade. I didn’t need it, nor did I want it. I’d gifted it to him and, as much as he’d hurt me, I still loved him. Always would. He was George.

“No,” I said and then gestured to his mouth. His eyebrows lifted but was quick to dip his head at the ask, taking the cigarette from between his lips to hold out towards me. I took it cautiously and held it between my fingertips for a second, “Sort of like riding a bike, ain’t it?”

George started to cough when the smoke he’d just inhaled got caught in the back of his throat as he laughed. “Sort of.” He chuckled, still coughing away as he slapped a hand against his chest, “Fuckin’ hell, Birdie.”

I couldn’t help the grin I wore as I watched on, then started to walk again, pressing the end of the cigarette to my lips. I only inhaled a small amount and savoured the strange but familiar taste, glancing back over my shoulder to blow a trail of smoke at George who’d quickly caught up with his long legs.

I took another drag, a bigger one this time, and let my eyes fall close at the release it gave me before I made myself pass it back to him.

“Much easier than riding a bike.” I deemed, smiling around a ring of smoke and looking over at him when he chuckled again.

“Probably.” George reasoned, staring down at the pink embering flame. “So, why’re you really headed back then?”

“Could ask you the same.” I quipped in retort, watching my feet trail over broken cobblestones. 

George hummed, was quiet for a minute, then tried again, “Alright, how’s this then, I ask you a question, you answer, you ask me a question, I answer. You only get to skip one.”

I narrowed my eyes in thought. This could be just what I’d been hoping for all those weeks ago, back at George’s, but I wondered if I even wanted to know now. If I was better not.

With a shrug, I levelled him with a look. “Any other rules?”

“Have to tell the truth.”

“Obviously.” 

He pursed his lips at my interruption but carried on like I hadn’t spoken. “And the questions end the second we reach the house.”

I thought it over and supposed that was fair. It wasn’t much of a walk back, but there’d be enough time to get a couple good questions in.

“Alright. Who goes first?”

George took another drag, hummed, then gestured towards me. “Ladies first and all that.”

Ever the gentleman. 

I huffed a tiny chuckle, then said, “Fine, favourite colour?” George gave me a bewildered look, as if to say really? And so I shrugged at him, smiling. “Figured we’d start off easy.”

His eyes trailed between my own. “Green.”

I nodded. It’d had always been green, so I guess it was nice to know that at least that hadn’t changed.

“Did you really fancy Andy Lough in year eleven?”

His question caught me so off guard that I released an ugly snort. 

“Oh yeah,” I exaggerated, “All those muscles and the fact that he only ever talked about rugby, proper got me going.”

“Can’t lie, remember.” George grinned at me and so I rolled my eyes, wearing a small smile of my own. 

“I was teasing, Daniel.” I replied with a drawn out sigh, “But fine, no I didn’t.”

He hummed. “Knew it.”

I shook my head at him, then remembered it was my go. “Erm, so did you ever make up with your mum?”

His attention darted towards me at that, like a rubber band snapping back into place. 

“Okay, so I guess we’re easing away from easy now…”

I almost wanted to apologise but didn’t, he had a skip. If he wanted to, he could not answer. And besides, I was curious. Had been since I’d brought her up at his the night of the accident. 

George’s mum was very much a sensitive topic, and although she’d always liked me, I’d struggled to form much of a connection to her, or any of George’s immediate family for that matter. He hardly ever saw them, never even spoke much about them either, but when he did, it was only in a fits of irritation, or anger.

George was quiet for a few steps and for a moment I really believed that he was going to use his skip. But then he cleared his throat lightly, “We did and we didn’t.”

I glanced over at him, curious, but found him staring out at the dark blue that had stained the sky just over the hill.

“She couldn’t get over me being away so much. Having my name in the papers and online. She hated it, said it made her look bad.” He divulged and took another long drag, “When we argued over it, that last time, she said some shit. It was hard to hear. And my dad, he didn’t say a word about it. Just let her get away with it. We’ve spoken since but haven’t really seen each other.”

“What about Christmas?” I couldn’t help but ask him. 

George turned to me with a convincing enough smirk then. “My go, remember?”

"What do you mean, wasn't that your question?” I smart-mouthed, but he was always quick on the uptake.

“Ah, and now it’s just come back to me.”

I shook my head and chuckled. “Go on then.”

“That doctor,” He begun and already I wanted to groan. Really? He’d waste a question on something as awkward as this? It would seem so because he really did. “What’s up with you and him?”

I wrapped my arms around myself, mostly to ward off the nippy air that had crept up on us, but perhaps as a precautionary measure too, already feeling a spike in my anxiety.

“We met before he was my doctor.” I revealed, aiming for nonchalance, “We bumped into each other whilst I’d been waiting for Matty. He was nice, we spoke for a while. But the next time I saw him was when I ended up in hospital. Didn’t even know he was a doctor ’til then.”

“So you’re not seeing him?” George asked and I raised an eyebrow at his cheek to even try.

“One, that’s none of your business. Two, it’s my go, remember?” I smirked as I repeated his words back to him. He relented easily enough. “Okay. Um, why’d you lie about LA when we split?”

The cigarette we’d shared had since burnt down to a stub and I watched on as George kicked the butt away with his foot, hands tucking themselves into the back pockets of his jeans.

“I don’t know really.” And he shrugged as best he could with the way he’d restrained himself, staring off again. “First thing that came to mind I ‘spose and, I don’t know, sounded like the best idea at the time. LA, I could work, keep my mind off things, party and just forget.”

I swallowed thickly. Forget what? I wanted to ask, but it wasn’t my turn.

“Ended up ‘round Ross’s didn’t I?” George went on, “Camped out there for weeks. Was a proper cunt to me about it, too. Switched off the hot water whenever he was home and I was in the shower. Made me take the bins out and wash his shit-stained pants. Pretty sure he even combed his beard with my toothbrush too, though he never did admit it.”

I snorted, unable to help the path my mind strayed to, “Could’ve just as easily been his pubes.”

The grimace that morphed George’s entire face had me howling with laughter. 

“Why’d you have to go and say that!” He cried and I struggled to breathe a tad, ended up almost stumbling into him as we continued walking, but I caught the crook of his elbow just before I could. 

He was still looking a little queasy at the thought, though he was chuckling away now as well.

I couldn’t help myself. “I’m sorry, I am. But knowing Ross…”

“Yeah, yeah.” George was quick to bat my comment away, obviously not wanting to think about it much more than he already had. He untucked his hand from his pocket then and neither one of us said a thing about it when we silently decided to keep our arms linked. “Fucking hell, really do not want to be thinking about my tongue having been anywhere near-”

He cut himself off with a gagging sort of sound and I was grinning so hard it’d started to hurt.

“Awh! I bet Ross looks after all his downstairs bits though, you know, seeing how perfectly well-kept his beard is.”

“Birdie, please.” George all but begged, wincing at my words, “Change the subject.”

I eased up. “Fine, but only because I’m so lovely.”

He scoffed, “Yeah and someday I’ll win a BAFTA.”

“Oi, you could.” I defended with a faint slap to his bicep. “You’ve got the face for it. Could see you in loads of films.”

“Oh yeah?” George smirked, fishing for another compliment, I figured. “Playing what?”

“Stroke victim or summat.”

He gaped and then glared at me, but smiled when I laughed.

“I’m just joking, G. Christ, don’t go taking my head off.” George was silent for a second and I peered up to find him already watching me. I furrowed my brow. “What?”

“Just, ’s been a while since you last called me that.” He murmured and I felt my chest tighten at the expression he wore. 

G. It’d been the name I’d dubbed him with way back when, something which had caught on quick… Those 1975 boys were a bunch of thieves, I tell you, they'd even pinched their own band name. 

I shrugged a shoulder at him, trying to act like it’d been nothing more than a slip. “You gonna go then? Pretty sure it’s your turn.”

“Right.” George remembered, the glint in his eye gone now as he turned to look ahead. “Um, alright, why’d you really want to leave tonight then?”

“Oh,” I was honestly surprised that he’d even remembered the question that’d started this whole charade off, let alone realise that he actually cared to know. I licked at my lower lip and then took a deep breath. “Truth?” I exhaled, the word falling from my mouth before I could stop myself, trailing out into the wind.

He nodded.

“Alright, so since the um,” I struggled to find another word for it, but realised that there probably weren’t many. “After the accident…” 

I felt George tense beside me but decided to continue on anyway. He had asked and I was yet to utilise my skip. 

“Basically I’ve had a lot of trouble with my head, migraines and all that. I hit it pretty hard the first time around, they reckoned I must’ve flown at least a couple of feet-”

“I know.”

My breath hitched at his quiet comment and I attempted to keep my cool, to carry on like he hadn’t said a word, like he hadn’t just said that.

“I, yeah, right well, when I hit it, it did a bit more damage than they first realised. The impact perforated my eardrum or something of the like. Could hardly hear out of the left side for ages after I woke up, kept buzzing and ringing, sounded like it did when you’d hold a seashell up to your ear at the beach when you were a kid, only worse.”

“And now?” He prompted, our feet moving like clockwork. Left and then right, again and again.

“Just happens whenever now. Struggle to hear out of it properly most of the time, but the doctors say it could heal. I dunno about that though.”

“Why not?”

I sighed quietly, mostly to myself, hand still gripping at his arm. “Not sure, the pain I guess. And the fact that it hasn’t eased up since.”

George hummed and surprised me when he laid his hand over my own, fingers longer than mine, hiding them beneath his. “Is that what happened, you know, earlier?”

With a nod I found myself replying easily, “Yeah. After I fainted, they’ve been ringing more and more frequently. Louder now too. Alvaro says is post-concussion syndrome, that I’ll just have to suffer through until it heals on its own.”

I shrugged the shoulder not pressed against George’s side.

“Could be worse, I ‘spose.” 

And George, he squeezed my hand tightly, tight enough to whiten the skin of his knuckles whilst he just nodded in retort. He kept quiet for a long while after.

It was just as the familiar hill, the villa hid behind, came into view that he spoke up again.

“Reckon we’ve got time for one more question. Your go, ain’t it?”

I glanced up at him, it was late and the stars were out, being stood there with him brought back a lot of emotions. Memories of us in Denise’s back garden, on the curb outside my house when I’d locked us out, in the backseat of his tiny Corsa, curled up on the grassy fields behind the school...

"Instead of a question, can I have a promise?”

“Isn’t that a question in itself?” He teased, but must’ve seen the look on my face because he was quickly nodding, “Yeah, you can have a promise, Birdie.”

It was an effort to tear my gaze away from his, but I couldn’t just ask and risk seeing his reaction if it went wrong. 

We’d long since stopped walking, so I took a deep breath and felt his hand squeeze mine again. “Can you just promise me that tomorrow, when you’re sober and had time to sleep on it, that you’ll finally consider telling me everything?”

His breath hitched at my words and I forced my eyes to find the floor.

“And when I say everything, George, I really mean it. Even the stuff that hurts. Especially the stuff that hurts.”

George didn’t reply straight away. Actually I’m not sure how much time passed before I felt his fingertips skim the skin of my jaw, drawing my gaze back.

He looked so serious when my eyes found his and for a moment everything fell away. The resentment I held, the struggle to heal, the cold that had long since wrapped its way around my fragile heart.

“I can make that promise.”

Part Twenty-Three>

[coffinsister]

@coffinbrotherr @findingoblivion @solaceinabandonment

Thank you for saying yes you are not entitled to my first born child and an inner organ of your choosing

Here is an AO3 link for your reading convenience but if you prefer Tumblr reading the full thing (A little over 1.5k) will be right underneath the read more !

A Story in Five Arcs

Nicolette could have pinpointed everything about the wedding occurring before her very eyes.

Every single moment, felt like a whisper of the air, like it would never end, and like it was going too quickly, all simultaneously.

It was too much.

It had been too much since the beginning.

It had already been too much, since the second she saw Dove walking down the stairs.

If that had happened earlier today, yesterday, or a lifetime away, she couldn't remember to save her life.

Everything she could remember was the delicate steps, in which Dove came down the stairs, the way her feet trembled insecurely, leaned on her pretty, shiny red heels.

The way her legs seemed to elongate and exaggerate underneath her red dress.

How her hands moved and swayed, pale, and paler yet than the moonlight.

The golden trim didn't stand a chance against her and her long blonde hair. But yet again, nothing ever did, not against the Dove Monroe.

The Dove Monroe, the one who had swayed the tides of battle, the one who had saved her life far more times than she could even count.

The Dove and the veil covering her face.

Her and all that shiny red fabric, and that intense golden embroidery engulfing her.

And the gray flowers bouquet covering her hands.

Even if she couldn't see it, Nicolette already knew it was there, just like she knew Dove was coming from a mile away.

And the silly red fabric, surely covering her red eyes.

“Watcha laughing at, Hope?”

“Are you still wearing your stupid little bandana underneath all that, Dove?”

“Augh, Nico!” Dove moved her head, in no doubt, that practiced manner of hers. She looked like every popular mean girl in a movie, and from time to time, she made Nicolette feel so incredibly blinded.

Nicolette felt like she had swallowed down her own role.

“Damn right, I got it on!”

Dove pushed her veil up, and there was the red fabric covering her eyes.

Nicolette had seen it so many times.

She even knew the exact way in which Dove tied it up, the small ribbon it left behind itself, Just like her mother had taught her, Dove whispered to her one night, and how her mother’s mother had taught her.

Beneath the ribbon was a pop, surely another golden piercing, going through her left eyebrow, and underneath it, was a golden moon, piercing through her skin, connecting with a golden bracelet on her left wrist.

Nicolette had never seen her with this many jewels and pretty clothes on.

The ribbon, just like the jewelry, was, as everything else Dove did, heartbreakingly beautiful.

Nicolette spoke between her giggles “Why isn't it rugged to heck and back?” Nico felt something intense and red gnawing at her, right between her eyebrows.

“...Oh, well” Dove seemed a little caught off-guard, like the very question embarrassed her. She looked down, Nico knew it from the way her face angled, barely feeling alive, like a sculpture “It is my wedding after all, isn't it? Gotta try to look decent for poor Sasha and that all. ”

The laughter died down.

Dove repositioned the flowers on her hands, and now there it was, in full display, the silver ring around her index finger, hugging it so snuggly.

Nicolette thought, to grab it from her finger, might as well rip off Dove’s whole flesh and bone.

“Wouldn't he like to see you without it then?” And the unspoken follow-up, Because you know I would love to see you without it.

Dove almost sighed, instead, she pursed her lips, into that stoic almost sardonic grin.

Standing before her, existed all of them, Nico reminded herself, the Dove who was her best friend since age 11, and the Dove responsible from delivering the final blow to their last enemy in battle, and also the Dove who had sworn to spend the rest of her life defending the sanctity of the timeline.

And all three of them were about to marry Sasha Merkel

All three of them, past, present, and future, had promised themselves to Sasha.

And really, Nicolette thought, all four people in the room should look far happier about that.

Dove reflected her thoughts back to her, as Dove often liked to do.

“Sasha is a good friend, he understands why I don’t like that.”

“Yeah, he really is. He’s your best friend, isn't he?”

Dove’s lips lifted every so slightly, like they were all in on some ridiculous insider joke.

“Yes, he’s a very special friend.”

And now, here was her Dove.

She was sitting on one of the wooden white chairs, looking forward, her Dove, holding hands with her Sasha.

Sasha was a good match for her, Nicolette had decided forever ago.

She had decided that one night, when she had woken up in one of their headquarters, in the middle of the bare night.

A ruthless black and white place they called house for a few weeks.

Something about the stiffness of the air, and how the rooms seemed to contract in on themselves, hadn't allowed her to sleep.

When she found her, Dove was holding hands with Sasha, a movie softly playing in front of them, some old black and white flick, that she was sure Dove would secretly adore.

And something about not having Dove by her side, after having her there for so long, felt too alien to bear.

So she went out looking for her, like a dog following a trial.

She stole a plushy next night, and decided to stop bothering them.

She was all about that artsy old-school stuff, but she could never get herself to admit it out loud.

Nicolette was sure this film would be Dove’s whole thing, but instead, Dove was looking at Sasha, intensely enough to get caught off-guard, and like a vandal, holding his dark hand, when Nicolette pushed the door open on them.

In retrospective, she shouldn't have done that.

Dove took her hand back, landing against her chest, but Sasha didn't let go, and that was that.

Thinking about it, Dove didn't seem happy back then, but she looked satisfied, if Sasha could keep her satisfied, Nicolette was nobody to complain.

Every night Dove was further and further away.

And now, here they were, Dove was looking forward too, and Nicolette couldn't tell if she was looking at her, or looking at her mother.

The woman was tall and scary, that was the best way Nicolette had to describe her.

A two meters tall mountain of metal and secrets, however this woman had raised her daughter, neither of them liked to speak about it, not aloud at least, not where anybody else could see, that is.

The woman was clapping, and maybe she would have been crying, if the Monroes were allowed to cry.

Dove’s mother screamed, loud and proud.

“From your mothers! Who is always going to be by your side!” Nicolette couldn't decide if it was the music, or her ears, but she sounded so far away, like her voice was becoming the gusts of the wind “I wish you will always be satisfied!”

Dove was definitely looking at her mother now, and there was definitely something wet and black pooling behind her red lace.

Leaving a ghost of a void, making the silhouette of her eyes.

And this moment was well-rehearsed, all their friends held-in their breath.

And Nicolette could have never missed it, because she had never been able to look away from Dove, and from her pale rose lips.

She mouthed those words, like she had done so a million times before, and knowing Dove, and all of her witchy ways, she probably had.

Nicolette hated the fact that she couldn't remember it.

But she felt it, like her bones knew it, and she thought, maybe they had been here before, in a past timeline, a million years ago, in another universe, wearing another face.

Dove looked at her, and Nicolette could only picture the lava hot red staring from the other side of the cloth.

Her lips moved, opening and showing pearly white teeth, and sharp fangs.

Dove had been a fighter, a military leader, an enforcer of punitive and ruthless wanna-be justice, far before she had ever been a girl, and Nicolette knew she had far more practice tearing with her fangs, than kissing with her lips.

Nicolette’s hands reached for her own lips, as Dove mimicked an O with hers.

A breathy I

Then the way Dove’s tongue touched against the roof of her mouth, before closing in again, like a duo of scared lovers in the midst of the night.

Love

A final stab, that soft U, full of wind and fake freedoms.

You

Then she closed her eyes, the shadow beneath her red lace, shifting to adapt, she leaned down, and kissed Sasha.

From there onwards, her best friend in the whole world, was officially married.

Nicolette choked on her own tears, the things icy cold against her skin, just like that lonely place she had been born in.

Dove had confessed to her one morning-night, how they called those devious times of the day, where it’s not quite one thing or the other just yet, their precious grey hours.

Their special time, before anybody else was awake to look at either of them.

Dove had ran her slender fingers through Nicolette's black sea of hair, just like the pale and bright moon through the night, her skin so white it shined in the dark.

With her mouth barely moving, Dove said she was raised to be as a sword was.

Nicolette hadn't believed her back then, she couldn't reconcile the image of her sweet Dove with that of a deadly blade.

But now, as she doubled over in pain, still sitting on her white cathedral spot, feeling like the tears coming out her eyes were burning her skin, her palm pressed tight and strong against her mouth, like she had just been stabbed, desperate to keep the dam of her blood inside.

Nicolette realized Dove’s mother had done an amazing job at raising a weapon in the shape of a girl.

She mouthed the words back, and later that night, she realized she would probably never see her best friend’s eyes again.

Dove Monroe a blade that never stops cutting.

[arachnidspanteonera]

A Story in Five Arcs 

Nicolette could have pinpointed everything about the wedding occurring before her very eyes.

Every single moment, felt like a whisper of the air, like it would never end, and like it was going too quickly, all simultaneously. 

It was too much.

It had been too much since the beginning.  

It had already been too much, since the second she saw Dove walking down the stairs. 

If that had happened earlier today, yesterday, or a lifetime away, she couldn't remember to save her life.

Everything she could remember was the delicate steps, in which Dove came down the stairs, the way her feet trembled insecurely, leaned on her pretty, shiny red heels.

The way her legs seemed to elongate and exaggerate underneath her red dress. 

How her hands moved and swayed, pale, and paler yet than the moonlight.

The golden trim didn't stand a chance against her and her long blonde hair. But yet again, nothing ever did, not against the Dove Monroe.

The Dove Monroe, the one who had swayed the tides of battle, the one who had saved her life far more times than she could even count. 

Her and all that shiny red fabric, and that intense golden embroidery engulfing her.

The Dove and the veil covering her face.

And the gray flowers bouquet covering her hands.

And the silly red fabric, surely covering her red eyes.

Even if she couldn't see it, Nicolette already knew it was there, just like she knew Dove was coming from a mile away.

“Watcha laughing at, Hope?”

“Are you still wearing your stupid little bandana underneath all that, Dove?”

“Augh, Nico!” Dove moved her head, in no doubt, that practiced manner of hers. She looked like every popular mean girl in a movie, and from time to time, she made Nicolette feel so incredibly blinded. 

Nicolette felt like she had swallowed down her own role. 

“Damn right, I got it on!”

Dove pushed her veil up, and there was the red fabric covering her eyes. 

Nicolette had seen it so many times. 

She even knew the exact way in which Dove tied it up, the small ribbon it left behind itself, Just like her mother had taught her, Dove whispered to her one night, and how her mother’s mother had taught her. 

Beneath the ribbon was a pop, surely another golden piercing, going through her left eyebrow, and underneath it, was a golden moon, piercing through her skin, connecting with a golden bracelet on her left wrist.

Nicolette had never seen her with this many jewels and pretty clothes on.

The ribbon, just like the jewelry, was, as everything else Dove did, heartbreakingly beautiful. 

Nicolette spoke between her giggles “Why isn't it rugged to heck and back?” Nico felt something intense and red gnawing at her, right between her eyebrows.

“...Oh, well” Dove seemed a little caught off-guard, like the very question embarrassed her. She looked down, Nico knew it from the way her face angled, barely feeling alive, like a sculpture “It is my wedding after all, isn't it? Gotta try to look decent for poor Sasha and that all. ” 

The laughter died down. 

Dove repositioned the flowers on her hands, and now there it was, in full display, the silver ring around her index finger, hugging it so snuggly.

Nicolette thought, to grab it from her finger, might as well rip off Dove’s whole flesh and bone.

“Wouldn't he like to see you without it then?” And the unspoken follow-up, Because you know I would love to see you without it.

Dove almost sighed, instead, she pursed her lips, into that stoic almost sardonic grin.

Standing before her, existed all of them, Nico reminded herself, the Dove who was her best friend since age 11, and the Dove responsible from delivering the final blow to their last enemy in battle, and also the Dove who had sworn to spend the rest of her life defending the sanctity of the timeline. 

And all three of them were about to marry Sasha Merkel

All three of them, past, present, and future, had promised themselves to Sasha. 

And really, Nicolette thought, all four people in the room should look far happier about that.

Dove reflected her thoughts back to her, as Dove often liked to do. 

“Sasha is a good friend, he understands why I don’t like that.”

“Yeah, he really is. He’s your best friend, isn't he?”

Dove’s lips lifted every so slightly, like they were all in on some ridiculous insider joke. 

“Yes, he’s a very special friend.”

And now, here was her Dove.

She was sitting on one of the wooden white chairs, looking forward, her Dove, holding hands with her Sasha. 

Sasha was a good match for her, Nicolette had decided forever ago. 

She had decided that one night, when she had woken up in one of their headquarters, in the middle of the bare night.

A ruthless black and white place they called house for a few weeks.

Something  about the stiffness of the air, and how the rooms seemed to contract in on themselves, hadn't allowed her to sleep.

And something about not having Dove by her side, after having her there for so long, felt too alien to bear.

So she went out looking for her, like a dog following a trial.

When she found her, Dove was holding hands with Sasha, a movie softly playing in front of them, some old black and white flick, that she was sure Dove would secretly adore.

She was all about that artsy old-school stuff, but she could never get herself to admit it out loud.

Nicolette was sure this film would be Dove’s whole thing, but instead, Dove was looking at Sasha, intensely enough to get caught off-guard, and like a vandal, holding his dark hand, when Nicolette pushed the door open on them.

In retrospective, she shouldn't have done that.

Dove took her hand back, landing against her chest, but Sasha didn't let go, and that was that.

Thinking about it, Dove didn't seem happy back then, but she looked satisfied, if Sasha could keep her satisfied, Nicolette was nobody to complain.

She stole a plushy next night, and decided to stop bothering them.

Every night Dove was further and further away.

And now, here they were, Dove was looking forward too, and Nicolette couldn't tell if she was looking at her, or looking at her mother. 

The woman was tall and scary, that was the best way Nicolette had to describe her.

A two meters tall mountain of metal and secrets, however this woman had raised her daughter, neither of them liked to speak about it, not aloud at least, not where anybody else could see, that is.  

The woman was clapping, and maybe she would have been crying, if the Monroes were allowed to cry.

Dove’s mother screamed, loud and proud.

“From your mothers! Who is always going to be by your side!” Nicolette couldn't decide if it was the music, or her ears, but she sounded so far away, like her voice was becoming the gusts of the wind “I wish you will always be satisfied!”

Dove was definitely looking at her mother now, and there was definitely something wet and black pooling behind her red lace.

Leaving a ghost of a void, making the silhouette of her eyes.

And this moment was well-rehearsed, all their friends held-in their breath.

And Nicolette could have never missed it, because she had never been able to look away from Dove, and from her pale rose lips.

She mouthed those words, like she had done so a million times before, and knowing Dove, and all of her witchy ways, she probably had.

Nicolette hated the fact that she couldn't remember it.

But she felt it, like her bones knew it, and she thought, maybe they had been here before, in a past timeline, a million years ago, in another universe, wearing another face.

Dove looked at her, and Nicolette could only picture the lava hot red staring from the other side of the cloth.

Her lips moved, opening and showing pearly white teeth, and sharp fangs. 

Dove had been a fighter, a military leader, an enforcer of punitive and ruthless wanna-be justice, far before she had ever been a girl, and Nicolette knew she had far more practice tearing with her fangs, than kissing with her lips.

Nicolette’s hands reached for her own lips, as Dove mimicked an O with hers.

A breathy I 

Then the way Dove’s tongue touched against the roof of her mouth, before closing in again, like a duo of scared lovers in the midst of the night.

Love 

A final stab, that soft U, full of wind and fake freedoms.

You 

Then she closed her eyes, the shadow beneath her red lace, shifting to adapt, she leaned down, and kissed Sasha.

From there onwards, her best friend in the whole world, was officially married.

Nicolette choked on her own tears, the things icy cold against her skin, just like that lonely place she had been born in.

Dove had confessed to her one morning-night, how they called those devious times of the day, where it’s not quite one thing or the other just yet, their precious grey hours.

Their special time, before anybody else was awake to look at either of them.

Dove had ran her slender fingers through Nicolette's black sea of hair, just like the pale and bright moon through the night, her skin so white it shined in the dark.

With her mouth barely moving, Dove said she was raised to be as a sword was.

Nicolette hadn't believed her back then, she couldn't reconcile the image of her sweet Dove with that of a deadly blade.

But now, as she doubled over in pain, still sitting on her white cathedral spot, feeling like the tears coming out her eyes were burning her skin, her palm pressed tight and strong against her mouth, like she had just been stabbed, desperate to keep the dam of her blood inside.

Nicolette realized Dove’s mother had done an amazing job at raising a weapon in the shape of a girl.

She mouthed the words back, and later that night, she realized she would probably never see her best friend’s eyes again.

Dove Monroe blade that never stops cutting.  

[tea-moon-ster]

Alex gets traded to the Lions

I know that this has about 0% chance of happening, but I couldn’t stop picturing Alex and Finn playing together, and Alex and Kasey playing together, so here we go. Also, in Vaincre’s last chapter Kasey made it clear that he was playing his last season, but here he decided to give it one more year just to make the story work. So, this is set the year after Vaincre, when Logan is (hopefully) back to the Lions after one year in New York.

Any kind of feedback is welcome! I haven’t published fics in years so it would be very, very appreciated :)

TW: mild, short panic attack. Vaincre spoilers.

this universe and characters belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove . read it on ao3 here.

The key finally unlocked the door, letting Alex step into his building and out of New York’s freezing February weather. He kicked his shoes free of snow and climbed the two floors of slippery stairs, letting a small sigh of relief as the warmth of his apartment penetrated him. Today’s practice had wrecked him. He needed something warm to wear, and he was starving.

He quickly made his way to the bedroom and got into some comfy sweats and an old Rangers hoodie, that had been Kasey’s, but still smelled a bit like Nat’s coconut conditioner from her last visit a few weeks before. A small pang hit his chest as he tried to catch the last bit of that too-sweet, rare and yet so familiar scent. He, Bliz and Natalie had been long distancing for almost two years now, and if at the beginning he’d thought that the hardest part would be over in the newest stage of their relationship, he’d been wrong. It was getting harder and harder to leave or let go at the end of long weekends spent together, or after the holidays.

He opted for a can of tomato soup to heat on the stove -honestly, he was too tired for anything that required one more preparation step. He checked his phone for new messages as he waited for his five-star dinner to be ready, and was surprised to find not one, not two, but three voicemails. He tapped to listen to them and put the phone on speaker while he took spoon and plate out. Maybe some crackers.

You have three new messages. Number one. Beep. Yo, Hazard, it’s Will. Listen, I’m taking Percy out to drink something tonight, same ol’ place. Alex scoffed, shaking the head to himself. He’d pass. His whole body ached, it was thirty degrees outside, and he really just wanted to sulk into his bed and sleep for a few years. He really needs to get over that date, man. So, yeah, great it you feel like coming. Maybe someone else will be there, dunno. Cap, Tweedy, Kota maybe? Lemme know. Beep.

He loved the energy of his tight-knitted team, and how close they’d got on his two years back on the Rags, but he was drained. Sure, it wasn’t the same without Logan, who’d been given back to the Lions after the one-year contract, but he couldn’t be sad to help himself for that. He’d almost felt the sigh of relief Finn had let out miles away, and Leo, and Logan, and Sirius and all his team. Jesus, Kota, too. The poor man. Even though he’d been more than accepted in Gryffindor, the icy tension of the first weeks there had been tough, and Alex could tell he was glad to be back to the Rags.

Now, Alex was able to feel Finn’s happiness through their calls, and he was so glad, because his brother deserved a period of emotional stability after everything he’d been through with Logan. He was glad. But there was always a bittersweet feeling there, seeing the throuple together again while he was missing his two. But Bliz and Nat felt it, too. He knew it. And Kase had mentioned it in their last call: it was his last season, then he’d retire. And then they could join him in New York, and if not move there, at least they’d be able to see each other more often. Alex had been happy to hear the news, because he knew the pain Bliz had went through, was still going through. It would be hard, but he was glad. He’d be there for him.

Number two. Beep.

Alexander, hi, it’s Robert. His agent. I have some, ah, news regarding your contract. It’s pretty urgent, so yeah, call me asap. Beep. Alex took a chair from under the table and let himself fall on it, staring blankly at the fridge. Christ, if he was being sent down to Florida again…or California, Texas, anywhere south, far away. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He had finally found some stability back to the Rags, close to his parents, not too far from his brother, from Kase and Nat, he couldn’t…

Number three. Beep.

Hadn’t he been playing well? It couldn’t be that. He’d given all he had in the last few months, and years. But was it enough? Was he enough? He could feel himself starting to spiral and hyperventilate without being able to do anything about it. Fog began to appear at the corners of his eyes.

Alex, it’s still Roger. Sorry for calling again, but I don’t want you to get the news from the media. Alex squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip and praying. So, uh…your contract was about to expire anyways. Please, please, don’t rip me away from my life. And your coach was looking for a new staring center, with one of your boys out of the league for that back injury. So, a new arrangement was made. Alex stopped breathing, letting his head fall between his shoulders. He suddenly felt very aware of his loneliness. He’d give anything to have someone in the room with him, for a hand on his shoulder.

With the Lions. Gryffindor’s Lions. And coach Weasley did your name, so Leblanc is coming to New York and you’re going to Gryffindor. He was dead set on it. Guess there’s someone waiting for you in that locker room, yeah? You start in three days. I…I hope it’s good news. Call me asap. Bye.

Beep.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

Was that true? Had he been imagining it? Was he so tired to turn into delusional?

The fog in the room wasn’t disappearing, and he could smell something burned. He slowly turned to the stove and saw the soup boiling and sending splashes out of the pot, a dense smoke raising. He blinked, taking his time to realize that the smoke was, in fact, his dinner. “Holy shit!”

Next thing he knew, the fire alarm was triggered, and the fire sprinkler made rain fall into his kitchen as a shrill sound begun its loop. “Holy fucking shit!”

He shook his head out of the shock and quickly turned the fire off, passing a hand though his now wet hair. Lions. Gryffindor Lions. He went to turn the alarm off, not realising he’d been holding his breath. He let out a sudden sob, from all the emotions he had felt in mere seconds: tiredness, fear, anxiety, surprise, disbelief. Oh, fuck. He knew that happiness and relief were next, but his heart was racing impossibly fast now. Leblanc is coming to New York and you’re going to Gryffindor. The adrenaline made his head spin.

He opened the window to let the smoke and the smell of burned soup out, feeling the cold air’s bite. But he needed that. He brough a hand to his mouth and reached for his phone, only half aware he was lucky it was still functioning even if soaked. He tapped again on the last message, listening carefully to be sure that he’d got every word right. He had to be sure. But Robert’s voice was clear: you start in three days.

“Holy fucking shit”, he mouthed again. He was going to Gryffindor. He would play with Finn, a dream they’d had since they were toddlers, and he’d play with Bliz, again, for his last season. He would build a statue for Arthur Weasley.

Guess there’s someone waiting for you in that locker room, yeah?

With unsteady hands, he selected ‘last calls’ on his phone, and clicked on Natalie’s contact. He knew Kasey barely checked his phone, and he needed them now. As expected, one of his favourite faces appeared after a ring. Nat’s surprised and pleased smile made him shiver. She had her screen time glasses on, and her hair was in a messy braid, and Alex loved her. “Hi, baby! So nice to see your pretty face, really can’t get enough of...”

She stopped abruptly, noticing the situation on the other side of the screen. Her expression turned into concern, and she went a bit blurry with movement as she sat up straighter on the couch. “Alex, what is it baby? You okay?”

Alex felt suddenly very aware of the state of himself and his kitchen. Smoke was still floating next to the burned pot, the fire sprinkler was on, wetting the floor, the table, him, and he looked a right mess. He could see himself paler than usual, his hair matted to his forehead and his eyes red.

He heard some noise from behind Natalie’s back, before Kasey appeared in the frame. The corner of his mouth, curled up in a half smile, quickly left place to a knot of concerned eyebrows, as he leaned on the back of the couch with his forearms, a hand light on Nat’s shoulder. “Alex?”

The redhead blinked. They were studying him attentively, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times, waiting for sounds to come out.

“Alex” Bliz repeated. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen?”

“Talk to us, baby.”

“Is it raining?”

“That’s his kitchen, sweetie.”

“Oh. Wait, is there a fire?”

“Yeah, I mean no, almost, yeah. Wait, lemme just” he jogged to the hallway with the phone in his hand, and quickly found the fire sprinkler control panel, and turned it off. Then he went sit in the living room. Nice, warm, and dry. Two pairs of insisting and worried eyes were on him. “I...” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I got a call. From Robert.” He saw realisation hit Kase hard, and Nat bit her lip.

Kasey took in a deep breath, eyes going unfocused for just a second. “Wait. I, I gotta sit down for this.” His voice was suddenly small, feeble, eyes on the floor. He made his way next to Natalie, sitting down with a small, trembling breath. He blinked, his eyes already burning. Nat readjusted to circle his shoulders with an arm and brought their foreheads together. Bliz’ voice came in a whisper. “Where?”

Alex looked at Kasey’s sad, resigned expression, eyes unable to fix on the screen. How many times had they been pulled apart? In the moments they needed each other the most, nevertheless. But they’d always found each other, their bond becoming stronger each time. Kasey was scared, and Nat too, but Alex could already see the determination burn in her eyes. He knew she was thinking fuck the distance, wherever you end up going, I’ll come to you.

And they were waiting for him to drop the destination, but all he could master was a whispered “I love you two so much.” He let out a watery laugh as hysterical tears from the tension began to fall.

Kasey, in the meantime, had taken it for the worst of news, and now his eyes were closed, and he rested his temple on Nat’s shoulder, who looked at the screen bewildered. “Alex, baby, now you’re scaring us. Just tell us, please?”

Alex took a deep breath, trying to get a grip. Jesus, what a roller coaster of emotions. He’d never been more relieved in his life, and at the same time his heart was still drumming loudly in his ears. “I... baby, don’t cry. I…we’ll need a bigger bed.” He didn’t know why, but it was the first thing that had come to mind. Natalie blinked, Bliz opened one eye. He nodded, continuing, “Yeah. I can do with the one at the apartment just fine when it’s just for the weekend, but if I'm going to stay for good, we’ll need a bigger bed so I don’t end on the floor. So, I’m coming in two days and we’re going to Ikea, and we’ll find another bed.” His voice had faltered at the end, the realisation of finally being able to see them every morning without a screen between them hitting him. He sniffed. “I’m staying for good.”

He watched two pairs of huge, watery eyes stare at him. Nat brought a hand to her mouth, while Bliz hadn’t moved. It looked like he wasn’t even breathing. Then a high-pitched squeal filled the two rooms, and Kasey had to cover his ears as Nat kept screaming.

“No way! No freaking way!”

Alex started laughing, passing a hand through his matted hair, his eyes still burning from the tears. He watched Natalie’s big smile, with teeth and all, the one she only showed when she was high on happiness. And he watched Bliz, staring back at him with tears falling silently and his lower lip trembling like he was a kid. He looked so hesitant, so cautious. And Alex couldn’t blame him; they’d been apart for so long that it was hard to picture them together. It seemed too good to be true, and Alex knew that Kasey was thinking of something he could have missed, anything that could go wrong and send one of them across the country.

“Kase” Alex murmured, “I’m staying for good.” He looked for his eyes, but the other man just closed them as other silent tears began to fall. That was Kasey: silent tears, silent pain, silent love and kindness. Kasey wasn’t a difficult person to read, if one knew where to look. And Alex had always known, and he had seen how loud Kasey could be in his emotions.

“Yeah?” he asked, a rasped whisper against Nat’s shoulder, now hugging him and bouncing on the couch.

“Oh, baby, yes. I’m coming. I’m a Lion now.”

“Wait, but how? So out of the blue?” asked Natalie. Alex shrugged.

“Rob only said that the Rags needed a new center, so Leblanc is coming here, and your coach made my name, so...yeah.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know either, but let’s not question it. I need to move my things before the universe changes its mind.”

Natalie was nodding while scrolling Kasey’s phone, eyes wide. “Fuck, it’s all over Twitter” she mumbled.

Reality seemed to hit Kasey like a truck, and he brought a hand to his mouth, letting himself fall on the couch. “Holy shit. Holy shit, Alex, you-you’re coming.”

“Yeah.” His cheeks were starting to hurt for smiling too much.

“Here to Gryffindor. Lions. You- holy fuck.”

“How articulate” the other laughed, earning a scoff from the goalie, that was staring at the ceiling.

“You’re one to talk.”

Natalie framed herself better. “Baby, it means that you’re gonna-”

“Yes” Alex exclaimed, too high on adrenaline and happiness. Kasey let out a sob, other tears beginning to fall. But those were good tears, and for Alex it was enough. “Kase.”

“Alex.” Had they been together, they would have hugged and hold hands tight, foreheads pressed together and closed eyes. And soon, they’d be able to. Natalie leaned on Kasey, unable to contain her giggling. He hugged her, kissing her hard on the forehead, and then on the lips.

“I could leave right now” Alex realised.

“No” the other two replied at once, mildly alarmed voice. Then Nat continued, “You’re not driving right now.” She was right, as usual. Alex still felt pretty shocked, and his poor kitchen, wet and fuming, mirrored the absolute chaos of his mind. Also, there were things to do before leaving. He had to say goodbye to the Rangers -they’d surely organise a farewell dinner before letting him go. He’d miss the team, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to be too sad about the switch. God, he was going to play with his boyfriend and his…

“Oh, fuck, Finn. I gotta call Finn.”

“Yeah, he’s been texting me” Kasey noted, scrolling his phone to find multiple texts. “Tell Nat to hang up, I have to talk to him. Come on. My turn. Plz. Pretty plz.” He snorted, but he was smiling. “Berry, he’s gonna be so happy.”

“I know” Alex replied, voice breaking.

Kasey snorted, shaking his head. “Leo also texted. Please let him hear from Alex. He’s like a kangaroo on drugs.” They all laughed.

“Well, okay, that’s my cue” Alex chuckled, passing a hand on his face. “God, this is surreal.”

“I’m so happy, sweet thing” Nat said. “Now call that kangaroo of yours and if you wanna call us again later, we’ll be awake. If not, we’ll facetime soon?”

“We’ll kiss soon, hot stuff” Alex grinned, earning a smitten smile from a blushing Natalie.

Kasey nodded, apparently recovered enough. He had a forearm over his eyes, head still dropped behind on the sofa. “Okay, so. You’ll need to empty the apartment, to transfer all your stuff here, sign off the rent…” He huffed. “Lotsa work.”

Alex dismissed him with a hand, shaking his head. “Won’t take long. Maybe Finn will come here and help me. Short family reunion.” He took a deep breath. “You’re wrong if you think that I’m not gonna leave the second I can.” Kasey sent him a soft smile, as Natalie passed a soft hand on his cheek, drying the tears.

They hung up quickly after that. Alex really needed to hear from Finn, and he promised Kase and Nat to call them soon. He tapped on Finn’s contact and, as expected, half a ring passed before he heard some shuffling and a hush. Alex smiled, a grip already tightening his throat.

“Hiya, teammate.”

“You-you bastard” was the broken answer. He could hear Finn sobbing, and before he knew, he joined in with a sniff and new tears.

“Guess we made it, eh Fish?”

“Alex.”

“I know. I’m-I’m so happy, man, I mean.” He paused, looking for the right words to convey the fireworks exploding in his head. He didn’t think he could, but he knew that Finn was seeing the very same bright colours in his mind. “I- Rob called, and I was so scared, and then he said- and I couldn’t believe…”

“Together, Alex. We’re gonna play together, I can’t believe it, oh God. Leo had to triple check before filling me in, didn’t believe it either, nobody did…” he heard a deep breath from the other line, interrupting the fast talking, and he could picture Finn closing his eyes, his mouth curved downwards. “Alex, our dream.”

Alex let out a watery laugh as he shook his head. He remembered the hushed conversation in his childhood bed, lights out and bed shared with a small, clingy Finn, who always ended up in his room after curfew. Two kids looking at the stars attached on the ceiling, stretching their arms to reach them, fighting to keep their eyes open. Alex’s grin softened.

We’ll play together, an’ be famous, an’ win the cup. So many, very lotsa cups.

Yeah, Fishy.

Promise?

I promise.

“Well, I promised, didn’t I?”

That seemed to throw Finn into another fist of loud sobs, and he heard a soft laughter coming from his line. Leo, whispering sweet nothings and kissing him. Oh, sugar, it’s okay.

He heard some ruffling on the other end of the line, someone telling Finn to put him on speaker. Then Logan’s voice. “You just couldn’t bear not to be on the same team, eh old man?”

“Couldn’t phantom the idea, no” he laughed. How strange was it for a team transfer to feel like coming home? And how goddamn wonderful? “Good thing all those practice hours on passes didn’t go to waste.”

“Good thing.”

“But how?” Finn’s voice returned, insisting.

He let out a huff. “Apparently coach Weasley knew that there was some trade going on and he had a say in it, so he made my name. Robert said he was pretty damn set on it.”

“Oh god” Finn laughed. “What a great man. Imma built him a statue.”

Next, he heard Leo’s voice. “Alex, that’s so great. So, how are you feeling?”

“It’s just- so surreal. I can’t believe it.”

And Alex really couldn’t. No more takeout dinners alone on the couch, no more dates on Face Time, or coming home to an empty apartment. He felt a lump in his throat, and could already see the mornings together, and the practices together, and the meals together. Living alone was hard for many things, but the one that had always hit Alex too hard was eating alone almost every day. He looked at the abandoned, fuming mess on the stove that had once been his dinner. Your era has come to an end, canned tomato soup. Oh yes, he was going to make pancakes on Sundays for his lovers, and learn a few tricks from Leo to surprise them. The possibilities were countless, and his smile stretched at the thought of always having his favourite people near, for him to love.

He felt like arriving at the end of the run, crossing the final line, and finally letting himself relax after tensed months.

His mind was going ten times faster than his body. He could feel the race inside of him, the restlessness that, he knew, was going to keep him awake for a few hours at least albeit the tiredness he’d felt before the voicemails.

After half an hour on the phone with Finn, Alex called Kasey again, knowing that he neither was going to fall asleep anytime soon. His phone only ringed once before a giddy face smiled back at him.

“Hey, Lion.”

God, how rare it was to see Kasey like that. And how good it felt to be the reason of his excitement. “Hey yourself, fellow Lion. Figured you wouldn’t go to sleep for a while.”

Kasey smiled. “There’s no way I’m getting any sleep tonight.” He looked over the phone for a second. “And Nat, neither, I guess. She already made a Pinterest folder with all the new ideas for the bedroom.” He was smiling so hard, his tone affectionate. Alex loved that they shared the identical smitten smile. “She’s taking the measurements for adding new drawers, or something. You triggered her with the word Ikea.”

“Yeah, I knew what I was getting us into.” They let a comfortable smile stretch for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other’s company and the news. “God, Kase. I-I’m scared I’m gonna wake up and find out it was just a crazy dream.”

Kasey’s grin softened. “It’s all real, babe. Now come on, I’ll make good company while you make yourself some dinner. And I’ll supervise so you don’t burn it again.”

“I was just very shocked, alright.”

The next few days in Alex’s life were a blur. Luckily, it all had happened during a long weekend, so Finn had been able to join him in the city to spend some time together and help him pack his things. They’d had dinner with their parents, that were ecstatic to see their boys playing on the same team, and he’d received the official welcome call from captain Black- no, it was Lupin now. The Ranger organised one last dinner together, Will and Percy especially emotional about slowly losing the group to the Lions. Alex had just smiled. He found he couldn’t help it, lately.

Gryffindor was waiting for him: Nat and Kasey had rearranged the room to get some space for his things, and they were waiting for him to go find a new bed. Kasey had half-joked that they’d need a space bigger than their apartment, but they’d see in the future. They had time. The idea made Alex’s heart jump. A team’s dinner at the Dumais’ was being organised to welcome him, and in the locker room, a stall already styled his name, next to a big 28.

A new chapter of his life was about to begin, and Alex new that it would be one of the most memorable ones.

[we-return-in-waves]

Top 5 lines you’ve written in your fics?

oh my god this took me ages i was here agonising over my own writing like WHATS THE BEST?? also, i have discussed some favourite lines in an ao3 wrapped so i have deliberately exluded those from this list! under the cut <3

And when Gaara pulled off his clothes and kissed every scar on the damaged blunt instrument he called his body, love pouring luminous in the light of his shallow-sea eyes, Lee finally understood why someone would use the Eighth Gate even at the cost of their own life. - march of progress [succisa virescit (cut down, we grow back stronger)]

UNAPOLOGETICALLY THIS FUCKS also it's personally my favourite line of the lee chapter of mop by a mile. also, funny joke, but when i was putting this list together of all the contenders i realised that i used the word luminous in no less than four of them. i need more words

Gaara pressed himself closer in lieu of using his voice, which had, for the first time in his life, abandoned him entirely, placed his hands over Lee’s flaming cheeks, and kissed him. Kissed him like a man dying of thirst, kissed him like he was an oasis, kissed him the way sunlight kisses flowers at the first stroke of dawn and whispers to them, bloom for me. Kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. - Anthesis [Infructescence]

because how dare i write somethign so aesthetic into deranged paneenis honestly

Now, he’s on his back with his legs folded on either side of Lee’s torso, and Lee is sliding home and he feels so much bigger this way, braced over Gaara with his hair shining in the moonlight, and Gaara shuts his eyes in both bliss and fear that if he looks he won’t see himself, because he knows Lee was at Neji’s tombstone today and he usually doesn’t initiate like this, and if Gaara has to look up and know he is a placeholder for a dead man and then return home to Sunagakure in the morning his heart will cease to beat. - spoken words

i feel like there's a lot of lines in spoken words that absolutely slap way harder than they have any right to for a fic i wrote in less than six hours. but i especially love this one, because i said "ouch" OUT LOUD while writing it, dfjkghfk

The feeling is indescribable. It’s like the first sip of hot coffee on a winter morning, like the crescendo of instruments heralding the chorus of a beloved song. It’s like falling down stairs, it’s like winning a battle, it’s like the bone-deep relief of crossing the threshold of a place that feels like home. - an eight-fold tempo, an eight-letter heart

this was SO HARD could do just a top five lines ever just out of this fic alone i am so proud of it. i picked this one though for two reasons: the first, because i spent a long time thinking while writing the passage this is in thinking about what it feels like to fall in love for the first time, and i tried to channel all the emotions i remember: that blinding, heart-racing adrenaline spike of exhilaration mixed with vulnerability and fear of the unknown and the inexplicable feeling of safety and comfort that being with your loved one brings. and im just REALLY happy with how it came out. second, because this reads so melodically in my head and i just love how it sounds both in my head and read aloud. catch me podficcing my own fic lmaoo

Gaara looks up. Blinks those luminous eyes. The coppery filaments of his eyelashes shine white in the cold moonlight. Lee realises, with a start, that it is not simply the glow of healing jutsu or the light of the moon that illumine the flat seafoam irises, no, something behind his retinas reflects the faint light from deep within, a diamond of fluorescence, bright in the darkness. His pupils, normally invisible in the daylight, are slitted and animal. Lee wonders if this is a by-product of being born to host a tailed beast. If he can see in the dark. He looks inhuman. Surreal. Lee does not think he has ever seen anything so hypnotic. He cannot look away. - sing a song of sleeptide

argh i am just so pleased with how this reads to me, plus i loooove getting to make up some lore about gaara and the effects being a jinchuuriki might have had on him <3

thank you so much for the ask <333

[cousinkooksbackup]

Exchanged Love. || a bellyjere au fic

chapter seventeen

previous chapter | next chapter | table of contents

bellys pov

The Jeep was set to pull out in just five minutes, and Jeremiah's voice carried up the stairs, breaking the morning stillness. I'd been awake for hours, yet I couldn't shake the feeling of being unprepared for my first day at Boston College High School. That sense of unreadiness seemed unlikely to fade any time soon.

There was something nerve-wracking about being in such a completely new environment. I had met a few classmates at the party we attended on Friday, but today felt different. There was no alcohol to blur emotions, no liquid courage to boost my confidence. What if they didn't like the real me without the aid of alcohol?

"Oh, my special girl, you look absolutely dreamy," Susannah appeared behind me in the mirror, her smile melting my insides and coaxing a smile onto my own lips.

Susannah and I had spent all of last night selecting my first-day outfit. Jeremiah had teased us, insisting it wasn't a big deal, but his mom hushed him and sent him on an ice cream run for us instead. "Boys don't get it; being excited for your first day is a big deal," she reassured me.

We ultimately chose a simple blue corset top and white high-waisted shorts. Susannah had even added a white cardigan, which I secretly stashed in my bag once I got into the car with Jeremiah. Even with her modest addition, I felt like such a grown-up.

Back home, we wore uniforms to school, so dressing as we pleased was a novel concept—one that was both thrilling and intimidating. But having Susannah to guide me through it all was comforting. I tried to imagine my mom doing the same, but I knew she wouldn't have. She wouldn't have taken me shopping, helped me create outfits, or approved of this outfit—though it wasn't overly mature or revealing. She'd have preferred me in a turtleneck and jeans, cinched with a belt to keep them from slipping down.

"I should probably get going. Thank you for everything, Susannah," I hugged her, despite hearing Jeremiah's car horn honking outside. He could wait a few more seconds; it wouldn't hurt him. She smiled and squeezed me tightly, telling me to give her boy a playful slap for rushing perfection.

"Well, at least it was worth the wait. You look beautiful, Bells," Jeremiah complimented, waiting for me to hop into the passenger seat. His words made my cheeks flush. We had agreed to be just friends, and that the kiss was nothing more than a drunken mistake, but it was hard to convince myself otherwise when he said things like that—things that made me want to squeal and kick my feet.

"Well, we can thank your mom for that. She really helped put me together," I confessed. There was no way I could have pulled off a look like this or styled my hair so nicely without her assistance.

"I'm sure that's untrue. You would have looked good in anything," he assured me, his hand inching toward the back of my seat as he reversed out of the driveway.

My gaze lingered on him, noting how our outfits almost coordinated—his light blue button-up adorned with a white floral print and khaki shorts complemented my own outfit. I was half-surprised Susannah hadn't insisted on one of those cheesy back-to-school photos. His nose crinkled as he focused on avoiding the mailbox, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. God, he was so attractive... and God, I needed to stop having these thoughts.

"Are you nervous?" Jeremiah asked as we stopped at a red light, turning the radio down. I glanced over at him, my fingers halting their fidgeting with the hem of my shorts.

"What gave it away?" I asked, bashful.

"Your face says it all, really," he chuckled, pressing the gas pedal as we continued down the road. With each mile that passed, the pit in my stomach grew larger. It was unlikely that people would hate me when I walked in—how could they? Most of them wouldn't even know me. Yet, that didn't stop my mind from concocting all sorts of fictional scenarios.

"You know, the guys in the football group chat haven't stopped talking about you since the party," he told me softly. To Jeremiah, it might have sounded like an offhand comment, but it was a welcome one. People had liked me at the party, and I needed to remember that. No matter how many imaginary scenarios my brain conjured up, that wouldn't change overnight.

When we finally pulled up at the school, I felt like I could barely breathe. My gaze darted to the curly-haired boy sitting beside me. Of course, he was already waiting for me, a smile on his face. He reached out over the center console and took my hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Now I had two different kinds of butterflies.

"You're going to be fine, Bells," he assured me before turning off the car and hopping out.

Now was as good a time as any to follow his lead. I swung my door open to the lively chatter that was the first-day-of-school student parking lot. Jeremiah waited for me at the front of his Jeep, backpack slung around his shoulders and that signature grin on his face.

"Welcome to BCHS, Bells. I'll walk you to your first class, okay?" He was so sweet. Every time he spoke, it felt like he was melting my heart a little more

 each day. Building up these walls was becoming increasingly difficult.

Just like at the party, we were greeted by all sorts of people. About fifteen minutes remained until the bell would ring, and students perched on their cars, ate breakfast at the picnic tables, and lingered in the parking lot. 

Instead of heading straight for the door like I expected, we headed toward a table, and I followed him like a lost puppy. The closer we got to the picnic table, the more evident it became. I should have heard the football boys from a mile away with the way they were hooting and hollering.

"Oh, look who it is!" someone's voice called out, and heads turned in our direction.

"Belly!" a couple of boys came running right for me, not bothering to acknowledge their teammate beside me. I couldn't help but laugh, blushing from all the attention as they yelled out my name. I was pretty sure this was Ricky and Wade, but I might have mixed them up in my haze. Taylor and EJ sat together atop the picnic table, and EJ offered a small wave while his girlfriend bounded toward us.

"Back up, boys; she's mine this year!" she announced, pushing the two out of the way as they tried to claim their spots.

"Girl, you look so good, holy cow," she said, all while sporting the cutest blazer and skirt combo. I thanked her, leaving out how it reminded me of how the popular girls back home had attempted to style their uniforms—hers, however, was a pastel pink combo and much cuter.

"Let me see your schedule; I really, really hope we have classes together," she said, nearly snatching it from my hand excitedly. Through a series of squeals and big smiles, she seemed to take it as good news. Having a familiar face in my classes would be more than welcome.

"We have first block together with Mr. Saltzman. He's pretty chill, which is a blessing because first thing in the morning, I need time to inhale my coffee. But this means we can walk to class every morning together." One thing I had already learned about Taylor was that this girl could talk. I was pretty sure I wouldn't even have to open my mouth, and she'd somehow manage to carry on a whole conversation with me. But I didn't mind; her energy was contagious.

"I was going to walk Belly to her first class," Jeremiah chimed in, taking his place beside me again.

"No, I was going to walk Belly to class," Ricky teased, squeezing in between Jeremiah and me.

"You guys got it all wrong; I'm the one walking Belly to her class," Wade joined in, coming up from behind me and looping his big arms around my shoulders.

It felt good to belong, to feel wanted at school. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this way. On my last day of school back home, I had done my absolute best to avoid every single one of my peers, just trying to get to class and get home. But here, as I walked down the hallway, it felt like nearly every set of eyes was on me, and I didn't shy away from it.

Taylor was on one side of me, Jeremiah on the other. EJ, Wade, Ricky, and some other football players trailed closely behind us, making sure to introduce me loudly to everyone in the hallway. If it had been anyone else, I might have hated it, but something about their antics felt natural, as though this was a regular occurrence in the hallway, and letting them have their fun was the key to fitting in around here.

The first three classes of the day, I had with Taylor, which was comforting. I could avoid the first-day-of-school stress of getting lost on campus and being late. She introduced me to her other friends—though she'd described them in the secretive text she sent me as strictly school and party friends, whatever that meant. So far, the day had gone well. I hadn't run into Lacie, and all of my teachers seemed nice enough. Lunch was the only part of my day that I was dreading, just a little.

School lunchrooms hadn't been very kind to me, and based on the movies and television shows I'd watched, American high school cafeterias didn't seem promising either. Although everyone breaking out into song and dance would be an experience, Taylor promised me that lunch would be a fun and uneventful forty minutes of our day.

She practically dragged me by my elbow all the way to the cafeteria, chattering about how much she missed EJ and couldn't wait to see him. I wished I could be annoyed, but truthfully, I felt the same way about Jeremiah. Taylor had been a great friendly face to have around, but no one made me feel as at ease and safe as he did.

"I saved you a seat, Bells," Jeremiah grinned, patting the cafeteria chair between him and Wade. Wade chimed in with a wink, "Yeah, I was the brains behind this operation, making sure you got the VIP treatment." Wade was a bit shorter than Jeremiah, but he must have been close to six feet, and his sturdy frame practically enveloped the small seat. His sandy hair and honey-brown eyes gave him a rugged charm, and there was a hint of a Southern drawl in his voice, despite being up North. Charming, for sure, but also a tad clumsy.

"So, how's your day shaping up? Feeling okay?" Jere’s words were hushed, as if no one else in the cafeteria existed. Amidst all the chaos and chatter at the table, Jeremiah's focus remained entirely on me.

"It's been interesting. Classes with Taylor were great, but the next three... well, I'm flying solo. We'll see how that goes," I admitted, not even bothering to mask my nerves. There was something about Jeremiah that made me feel like I didn't have to pretend, and no matter what, he had an uncanny knack for seeing right through me.

"Excuse me," a pointed finger tapped on my shoulder. I didn't even need to turn around to know who the grating voice belonged to. The way Jeremiah's body tensed up next to me didn't go unnoticed either.

She cleared her throat again, saying, "Excuse me, you're in my seat." This time, I didn't have the liquid courage to back me up, but the way everyone stared at me expectantly offered some vote of confidence. I couldn't stand there like a deer in the headlights.

"Lacie, right?" I smiled softly, only to be met with a narrowed glare.

"Well," I shrugged, smile still intact, "if Jeremiah and Wade want me to move, then the seat's all yours."

"Jerebear," she pleaded, the nickname making my stomach twist.

"I think I speak for the whole table when I say that we want Belly to sit with us. There's a space at the end, though," Wade said cheekily, beating Jeremiah to the punch. I could tell he was grateful from the way he relaxed when Lacie stormed away.

"Didn't you break up with her?" EJ questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I did—yeah, but I guess she didn't believe it was for real this time," Jeremiah shrugged, his voice carrying a mixture of emotions, a slight slump in his posture.

"Oreo?" I asked, extending the chocolate cookie toward him, my brows furrowed as I willed him to smile with my mind. And as if on cue, he took the cookie with his teeth, a great big grin spreading across his face.

[envihellbender]

Teen Mads meeting Copybot for the first time in older Dec verse 👀

OCs: Mathias Iversen, Declan Gerritz

Content: Kidnapping, possessive/controlling, improbable science

—

Mathias’ shoulder was starting to hurt less, sometimes he barely noticed it and that scared him more than the pain itself. He didn’t want to forget about the tracking device, he wanted to remember precisely where it was so he knew what needed ripping from his body. He was allowed out of the poky little flat now, which was a blessing he supposed. That morning he went for his first run outside, it was strange being in the city. Back home he could see for miles, from his bedroom window. There were trees, a lake, miles of grass and the mountains in the distance. No other house for miles. Here everything was different shades of grey. Grey skies, grey buildings, grey pavement, grey people. The smell of the cars hurt his throat and he could taste it on his tongue, that plus the cigarette smoke felt like it clung to his skin. When he ran however, it was different - it was almost like he was back home. The cold air hit his face, and skin. He ran like in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms even though it was an icy December, it wasn’t that much warmer than Denmark but he needed to feel the cold against his skin. It wasn’t as fresh, but for a moment it was like he was free. His feet pounding against the stone pavement, and his chest heaving until he had to stop. When he stopped outside the flat building he was now infuriatingly drawn to, he noticed how much better his shoulder felt. It was tender, but tolerable. He almost felt compelled to stab himself just so he wouldn’t have the throbbing reminder.

He typed in the familiar code into the keypad, unfortunately he now remembered it without thinking. He walked past the lift, he always went up to the flat by the stairs, he wanted to prolong the time he had to himself. He arrived quicker than he had wanted and hated that he felt his brain relax and decompress upon opening the door. It wasn’t real. He noticed Declan didn’t say anything as he entered which was strange. Maybe the freak’s too engrossed in one of his stupid games, he told himself.

When he entered the living room and fell onto the sofa, ignoring Declan just as he was ignoring him he noticed something was… Different. He saw Declan in his computer chair, the kind that looked like a car seat Mathias thought. Declan’s spine was straight, ramrod straight. He normally slouched over his computer, his posture was terrible meaning he often complained of pain in his shoulders and back. Today however, he had a sitting position so perfect that he was like a diagram from a physiotherapy textbook. The other strange thing was that Declan wasn’t wearing headphones, and on the gigantic screen there was nothing interesting - just repeated numbers and symbols. Mathias stared for a moment but decided that he wasn’t going to be concerned about his captor. He got himself a glass of water from the kitchen. It was spotless now, when he was first took here it was so unorganised and filthy it made his skin crawl. Sure, it wasn’t stained with crumbs everywhere, but it wasn’t as clean as Mathias liked it. He made the mistake of saying that if his Papa had seen it he’d have beaten Mathias until the kitchen was stained with blood instead. It was a joke, but Declan made those irritating sad green eyes and tears fell down his face.

When he returned to the living room he noticed something strange again, Declan’s hair was usually just pushed behind his ears when he was concentrating - it was a messy mass of black which he usually ended up pushing back every five minutes or so. This time however it almost looked neat, it was pulled backwards into hair tie, and Declan’s thick black eyebrows were furrowed. There was a uncharacteristic confidence inside of him, what got Mathias through every day was knowing that he could beat Declan whenever he wanted. He was faster, stronger, and taller. In the past few months he’d had a growth spurt and now he towered over him. When he saw him now however… he felt his intelligence and power, without any of that stammering shyness. It was almost inhuman. Declan’s eyes flitted towards Mathias, instead of jumping like he normally would have he smirked and turned towards him.

“Can I help you?” Declan asked, almost irritated. Mathias took a step back, baffled. Declan usually stumbled over his words, his voice small and quiet like a mouse. Now he was confident, smooth… it was bizarre. And unsettling.

“Erm… no,” Mathias scowled. “Just… you’re being weird.” Instead of replying, Declan just stared at Mathias, as if he found everything he said hilarious. After a few moments he spoke, suppressing a cruel laugh as he spoke.

“I wish Declan didn’t eat so much shitty food,” he began, his eyes focusing on Mathias’ small biceps. “Just filled with sugar and carbs. Those pretty toned arms of yours could snap these fucking bones like a twig.”

“Fanden,” Mathias sighed, wrapping his arms around his slim torso. “You’re such a … Freak. Stop it.”

“You’re so cute when your scared.” Declan said biting his bottom lip. “Declan hasn’t noticed it yet but your pretty grey eyes widen and your soft little lips part… he really doesn’t take advantage of you enough.”

“Okay okay, you scared me. Very funny. Now. Stop. Please. Declan.” Mathias rarely used his captors name, but he was hoping it’d endear him to Declan and he’d stop this.

“See that’s where my agreement with my dear host stops,” Declan said shaking his head. “You’re so stupid. Such a brainless piece of shit. I’m not fucking Declan. You can call me Copybot. I guess. If you need to speak to me. Now can I get back to work?”

“I- so… who- who- are you like… one of those…” Mathias stopped. He hated to admit but his first thought was possession. All he could think of was what he’d seen in Emperor’s New Groove and Atlantis: The Lost Empire. That was ridiculous though, that couldn’t be real. “Okay fine. I’m stupid. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Look at you. All confused and worked up like a little lamb. Maybe Declan will explain. But unless you want me to look through his things and fix that little microchip so that it shocks you every time you talk to me… go away. Watch a stupid fucking movie or go for a run or something.” Copybot turned back to his computer with a smirk filling his burned face.

Mathias bolted to the bedroom, he slammed the door behind him and found his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. It wasn’t scary exactly, Declan could never really be frightening and Mathias could beat him if necessary. It was just… Unnerving. Strange. Like an intruder was in the flat. And a part of him was a little concerned for Declan, just a little.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Take the Stairs Day

National Take the Stairs Day is celebrated every second Wednesday in January.  You know what that means: celebrate the day by hitting the stairs. Elevator? What elevator? If you’re interested in taking things up a notch, run around the block or cycle to work. It doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you keep that heart rate up.

Lung health is more important now than ever before. Did you know that over 3.7 million Americans live with chronic lung diseases like asthma or lung cancer? We’re not moving as much as we should. To top it, the air we breathe gets increasingly unhealthy. Some factors may be beyond our control, but staying fit and healthy is entirely in our hands. Take the first steps towards a healthier life today. What matters eventually are the choices we make.

History of National Take the Stairs Day

The first mention of Take the Stairs Day was in 2016. A dedicated stair-running group likely organized it, although there’s not much documentation on the event.

On the other hand, National Take the Stairs Day is a recent initiative by the American Lung Association. The goal is to improve our lung health by choosing a life of movement over convenience.

Stair walking is excellent exercise and one of the easiest things to do. It’s gentler on our joints and muscles compared to HIIT or gym workouts, with almost similar benefits. It’s an activity to seriously consider if you’re looking to lose weight, tone muscle, and enhance overall cardiovascular health.

Taking charge of our health can sometimes feel daunting. Where does one begin? The good news is you don’t need to make drastic alterations to your lifestyle, unless medically advised. The key lies in little but consistent steps each day. They really do go a long way. Small changes such as choosing to take the stairs instead of an elevator can significantly reduce the risk of chronic diseases.

National Take the Stairs Day hopes to encourage Americans to make changes to their lifestyle. By taking part, you also show support for the millions of people who live with debilitating lung disease. If a few minutes of climbing stairs can make your lungs explode, imagine what it’s like for those with chronic pulmonary disease. It can be a humbling reminder of how lucky we are to be alive. We hope everyone takes the stairs today and every other day.

National Take the Stairs Day timeline

8000 B.C. - 2000 B.C. The First Ornate Staircases

As human civilization progresses, the people of ancient Mesopotamia build magnificent staircases in their homes.

2016 A Day For Taking Stairs

The internet first hears of Take the Stairs Day.

2019 Backed By Science

Researchers at McMaster University find that short bursts of stair climbing throughout the day can boost cardiovascular health.

2020 A Guinness Record For Stair Climbing

On November 18, Ryoji Watanabe from Japan breaks the world record for the fastest vertical mile stair climbing, at one hour, six minutes, and 58 seconds.

National Take the Stairs Day FAQs

When is National Take the Stairs Day?

Organized by the American Lung Association, National Take the Stairs Day takes place on the second Wednesday in January each year. The association encourages Americans to improve their lung health by taking the stairs instead of an elevator.

What are the benefits of stair climbing?

Stair climbing comes with tremendous health benefits. A few minutes of stair climbing throughout the day improves lung capacity, heart function, and blood circulation. It also reduces the risks of developing chronic heart diseases, cancer, diabetes, and hypertension.

How many stairs should I climb for a good workout?

Try climbing up and downstairs on 10 to 12 steps for about 30 minutes. Climb one step at a time and progress to skipping steps once you’re comfortable. For intense calorie burn, climb up and down a 10-story building five times.

National Take the Stairs Day Activities

Take the stairs

Design a stairs-climbing challenge

Climb stairs for a killer cardio burn

Wherever you can, choose to take the stairs today. Find opportunities throughout the day: on a lunch break, coffee run, or en route to the break room.

The good thing about stairs is you’ll find them everywhere. Gather everyone for a stairs-climbing challenge at the office or apartment complex. It can be a surprising way to bond. Take care to offer support to anyone who may be struggling.

Start incorporating stair climbing into your workout. Jog up a few flights each day, increasing the pace as you go along. Level up by skipping one step or carrying a heavy backpack on your way up.

5 Facts About Exercising That Will Blow Your Mind

Let the music take control

Exercising is good for the brain

Bring on the muscles

Slows down aging

Variety is super important

Listening to music during a workout can improve performance by 15%.

Cardio-intensive exercises help create new brain cells, improving brain power and memory.

People with more muscle mass burn more fat amounts while resting.

Those who exercise for 45 minutes, three times a week can significantly reduce signs of aging.

Compared to those who cross-train, people who don’t switch up their workouts are more susceptible to injury.

Why We Love National Take the Stairs Day

It challenges us

Gratitude for our lungs

A community endeavor

The comfort of familiar things lulls most of us into complacency. When was the last time you challenged your body and mind? It’s time today to get up and move. If not now, when?

Breath is life, but we don’t notice it at all. When we take the stairs, we are reminded of how hard our heart and lungs work. That exploding sensation in the chest? It means we’re alive.

Staying fit and healthy can be a lonesome road. National Take the Stairs Day recognizes the importance of the community's rallying around better health. It’s easier when everyone’s in it together.

Source

[seubre]

Pearls in the Rough, Chapter 2

Aris stared intently into the mirror hung up in his bathroom. The six-foot tall young man, with unshaven stubble and curly dark brown hair gave himself an encouraging smile, washed up his face and returned downstairs to the living room of his adoptive parents.

They were a nice couple, somewhere in their sixties, Aris imagined. He never thought to ask. Since they could not have children of their own, the Zarvalisses adopted or took care of everyone who showed up to the village. One such child was Aris. Nobody was quite sure where he came from, but one day the locals found him wondering around the town, carrying just a small pocket knife. He himself could not remember much, he couldn't have been older than six years of age. Zarvalisses took him in and he's been with them ever since.

Aris sat behind the table and picked up a piece of bread, left over from the lunch. Andreas Zarvaliss, the patriarch of the house sat opposite him, just finishing his afternoon wine.

"Caught anything good?" asked Andreas. The family wasn't quite dependent on Aris, but any profits of his would be shared with the household, that was the tradition. Usually the bigger catches warranted a proper celebration, but there's been fewer and fewer of those in the past few years. Aris just shook his head. He never shared his scheme, his endeavors not even with the closer members of what was now his family. Mindless gossips would become the death of his retirement plan. Most people around knew him as the worst diver in the town and Aris wasn't too keen on proving them otherwise.

"Perhaps the guys at the docks could teach you how to actually do your job, I've seen them today hammering down the latest catches" exclaimed Andreas. "Those brutes? Like little children banging rocks against each other, that's what you want for me?" replied Aris. "Look, to be honest, I don't think you're just that skilled as pearl catching. I've seen ten year old boys bring back more loot than you do. Maybe you could go for a different career, it might actually do you good. I have a friend I play cards with that's looking for someone to look after his shop. Honest work for once." offered the patriarch.

The words fell on deaf ears. Aris bit down on the last piece of bread his unskilled catching bought. As long as he provided for the family, he would always be welcome, they both knew it.

Gracefully saying goodbye to his family for the evening, Aris stood up, packed up a few of his things and walked out from the house. As he was leaving, Mrs. Zarvaliss asked him to bring back a freshly caught Salmon, as tomorrow would be a big day. The young man did not quite remember which holiday they were celebrating, probably something with winning independence sometime five hundred years ago. In this village, no good cause went uncelebrated.

Life here really is simple, thought Aris as he walked out from the house. He came out into a busy bustling street. His first instinct was usually to head right and down the stairs, right to a small dock beneath the house, where his small ship, the Harvest, was usually docked.

But today he aimed for the town. He could see, even from this distance, that the town was brimming with life, something he didn't feel quite easy about. Big crowds always provoked trouble and Aris tended to steer clear of them. The path to the town was surrounded by few pines, bushes and a few blades of grass poking through the stones, but overall the road was well kept.

Coming up to the first few houses, Aris noticed a familiar face sitting on a marble half-wall surrounding a garden of one of the finer houses of the town. A little girl, not older than a dozen years of age, sat high up on the wall and talked with her friends so excitedly, Aris could hear their laughter a mile away. Once she saw Aris, she quickly said goodbye to her friends and jumped down from the wall. It wasn't the smoothest landing, but she managed to keep her balance and hoped Aris did not catch it.

She quickly ran towards him and gave him a big hug, before pulling back and excitedly asking: "So, did you find any?" Aris did not answer, just put forward two closed fists and motioned with his head for her to pick one. "Umm, left. No no, right." she said, unable to decide. Aris looked at her, as if disappointed with her choice. "Okay, the left hand, from my view, final decision". said the girl proudly.

Aris opened the left hand, chosen by the young lady. In his palm sat a couple of colorful shells of various sizes. Although he would not admit it, he took more time that day finding the shells than actually doing his work. He was proud of them, more so than the pearls.

"Ah, wrong again. I thought I had you this time!" laughed the little girl. Aris opened up the second hand, upon which sat the three pearls Aris did not tuck away, before quickly closing the palm again. "You know, the point is to guess the hand that does contain the pearls, right Kori?" he teased, "At least you can make another one of those necklaces you like. I think they look very good on you."

Korina was like a sister to him. While not related by blood, he did practically raise her ever since she was washed ashore. Zarvalisses gladly took her in and as long as she cleaned her room and helped in kitchen when needed, she was free to play with the other kids. Aris tried to raise her as best as he could, given that Zarvalisses while welcoming, weren't the best role models or parents. In his spare time, he taught Kori how to read, count and even how to swim. In time, he might even pass on the torch of the pearl farming, but Kori was still a little girl and Aris had no problem letting her be a kid, something he never quite had.

"So, Korina, what's the word around town, anything I should know about?" asked Aris as they were walking to the town together. A few years ago she might have even held his hand, but she's been growing more independent by the day, something he encouraged greatly.

"Oh, I-, hmm," were the first sounds of thinking Kori spoke, "Well, Penelope's parents have been fighting, there's a new market in town selling melitoutta cakes, which you just have to try, and tomorrow the shops will be closed, so remember to buy everything you need." Short, quick and to the point, Aris taught her well.

"Oh, and one more thing, apparently all the mussels on our beachfront have been fished up, so the boys were talking about expanding their radius to that bay you frequent. But you've caught everything there, so they won't find any, right?" asked Kori.