#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

[cherrygirlfriend]

pillow play pairing: perv!rafe x thornton!reader synopsis: perv!rafe jerks off to his best friend's sister who is humping her pillow. warnings: smut! male + female masturbation, voyeurism, MDNI! - wc: 1.2k i've taken a bit of a break from writing lately; mostly because i binge-read 5 books in 6 days which is strange for me 😭 my foot might also be fractured which isn't great because i walked like five miles today so now both my feet hurt

if topper knew the kind of thoughts his best friend had about his sister, rafe knew topper would make sure he never even caught another glimpse of you. if only top knew that whenever he passed out during a party or just a casual hangout between the two, rafe would slip upstairs, walking down the hall until he reached the door to your bedroom, he'd twist the doorknob, some light filtering into your dark bedroom, making you move around in bed in a way that caused alarm bells to go off inside rafe's head, hearing his own heartbeat fill his ear as he stopped in his tracks.

but as soon as you stopped moving and continued to breathe softly as you slept, rafe would slip further into your bedroom, looking down at your serene, sleeping form with a mixture of fondness and guilt; he knew that this was something he absolutely shouldn't be doing, but the more he tried to resist it, the more he craved to do it; the more he craved you.

rafe would pull open the drawer he'd gotten to know so well, sneaking a pair of your lacy panties and slipping them into his back pocket, before making his way to your bed, kneeling next to it, the blonde watching as your chest rose and fell with every breath you took like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen, captivated by the sight.

he pushed a strand of hair away from your forehead, before connecting his lips with your forehead, causing you to let out a content sigh in your sleep. he hoped you were dreaming about him; even if it wasn’t likely. "goodnight, sleeping beauty."

this was another one of those nights; topper was passed out on the couch in his living room after the two had decided to drink beer and play call of duty, only for topper to pass out after rafe challenged him to a drinking game. rafe stood up and lightly shook his sleeping friend, but when topper simply mumbled something in his sleep like nothing had happened much like you did, rafe knew he was good to go.

slowly, he walked up the stairs, taking slow, quiet steps down halls that were lined with family pictures along with ones of you and topper when you were younger up to graduation, pictures he was sure he had passed a hundred times when he was making the trek to your bedroom, but as he looked at your bedroom door, decorated with a sign that had your name on it that had been there for as long as he could remember, rafe noticed that something was different.

the light was on.

usually, you were long asleep by this time; but as rafe got closer to your door, he could heard noises that were muffled by the hardwood door. he couldn't process it at first, but when you were just a little bit louder, he had a guess about what the cause of those little noises was, and so rafe pressed his ear against the door to make sure that he was hearing what he thought he was.

and there it was; you were letting out beautiful, breathy moans, the noise slightly muffled by the thickness of the door. carefully, rafe twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open just a crack, already hearing your pretty little noises much better, his jeans starting to feel tighter just from that. he had no idea how you had that big of an effect on him.

opening the door only slightly more, rafe peeked into the room, feeling like he might blow his load just from the sight displayed in front of him.

you were perched on top of one of your ruffly decorative pillows, your laptop open on the bed next to you, playing something less-than-appropriate, your face contorted in bliss as you rode your pillow, seemingly unaware of your surroundings, and seemingly unaware of who was watching you.

your body was covered only by a pair of panties that were all too familiar to rafe, having been a pair he'd seen in your drawer before, as well as a flimsy tank top that you were palming your tits through greedily, and the blonde couldn't resist bringing his hand to his belt, swiftly unbuckling it and unzipping his jeans as he watched you, your head thrown back in pleasure, rafe palming himself through his boxers.

he licked the palm of his hand to help slick it up, taking his cock out of his boxers, already standing at attention.

rafe watched as you pulled your tank top up slightly, showing a sliver of your tits, and even that was enough to make a small whimper escape his lips as he stroked his cock, the tip glistening with a drop of precum that he spread around his shaft as he continued stroking himself, wishing he could use your arousal to help lubricate him.

you hadn't heard the small sounds escaping him, or the slight fapping noise coming from his hand as he stroked himself, the man so infatuated by the sight of you getting yourself off on your pillow, your features contorting in pleasure, as he pictured that it was your hand stroking him, dreaming that he replaced the pillow you were grinding your pussy against, using him, rubbing your clothed cunt against his bare, hard cock.

this was the first time he had done something like that, watching you while getting himself off, but rafe knew that after he got a taste of it, he wouldn't be able to stop. it felt too good.

"unnghh..." you moaned breathily, feeling yourself get closer as you continued using the pillow on yourself, pressing it against your clit, the lacy pair of panties you wore covered in the arousal that had pooled around your legs, slowly causing even the pillow to get drenched as it dripped down your thighs.

rafe couldn't get himself to think about how wrong it was, about how topper would kill him if he found him in this situation; the only thing on his mind was you, and the way you'd look on his lap, riding him, those perky tits right in front of his face as you took all of him, your nails digging into his shoulders, how your smooth thighs would feel under his hands...

when you let out a particularly loud moan, rafe felt the pressure in his stomach snap, coating the inside of his jeans with his white, sticky cum, your movements stilling as you keeled over on the bed, completely out of breath and panting, while your laptop still replayed moans and sighs, and as he tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans, rafe knew that once you were dead asleep, he'd be paying you another visit and going through your laundry basket for the pair of panties you’d just soaked.

[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.")

[lillaydee]

One More Try

Landlord Joel Miller / Reader

They say a woman is tested when her man has nothing. But a man is tested when he has everything. What happens if you both passed the test, but your partners did not?

WARNINGS:

Unplanned Pregnancy, Soft Joel (The Last of Us), SO MUCH FLUFF, Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Reader was pregnant before meeting Joel, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Miscarriage (Not OC), Landlord Joel, No Outbreak AU

SERIES MASTERLIST

---

You kicked the door closed, your hands letting go of the two large suitcases you had been wheeling up the five flights of stairs. You were soaked to the bones from the rain, your sneakered feet sore and squelchy from your very long walk. You took all your clothes off, glad for the warmth radiating from the heater in the small study room you had rented for your doctorate. You opened one of the suitcases, found that some of the clothing was not completely soaked and pulled on some dry ones. Small victories, you thought. You scanned the room, mentally calculating for spaces to hang your wet clothes, hoping some clothes will be dry enough for you to wear the next day.

After some strategic thinking and making do with what you had in the cramped space, you managed to get all the wet clothes hung one way or another. You sat on the single sofa at the corner of the room, feet propped up on the small coffee table the last candidate had kindly left you, wrapped the crocheted blanket around your body, and fell asleep.

A small shake woke you. Your supervisor Professor Frank Anthony’s worried face appeared in front of you. Relieve floods it when you responded. He gave you a bottle of water, and two pills. You are burning up, he says. What the hell happened? You cannot think. You just felt like shit that’s been dumped onto the highway and driven over again and again. When you didn’t answer, Frank searched for his phone, and called someone. You fell back asleep.

When you opened your eyes again, your fellow candidate and best friend Maria was in the room with Frank. Both looking at you like you might spontaneously combust. You felt better than you did, but you knew without a doubt that you still had a temperature. How could you not? You walked almost 10 miles in the rain, dragging two full suitcases behind you, needing the walk to clear your head. What happened? Frank asked again. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness overpowered you, and you broke down.

---

Maria was packing your stuff. You were going back home with her, she said. No, she will not take no for answer. But you couldn’t do that, she lived with her boyfriend in a studio apartment. Frank offered you a room at his house while you looked for a place, but you said you didn’t want to intrude. You were perfectly fine right there. You will finish this doctorate if it’s the last thing you did. You just needed to find a job, and a place to live. You’ll be fine.

You cried in Maria’s lap for hours that day. Frank came up to tell you he had started the process for you to be his research assistant, just so you can start over while you look for other jobs. You only had your dissertation to complete, he said. You could do this. Maria’s phone rang, and after a few minutes of talking, she came back with good news. Her boyfriend’s brother owned a building of short-term rental apartments just outside the university compounds, she said, and one was available for you if you moved in today. The rent was cheap, and it’s close to the university, which was perfect seeing as you no longer had a car.

You were desperate. You had a headache; you wanted to throw up, everything that had happened since yesterday evening was just bubbling up in your chest threatening to come out of your mouth. But this would mean one thing less for you to think about. You quickly agreed.

When Maria drove up to the apartment building, the two of you were greeted by her boyfriend Tommy. He hugged you tight, telling you how sorry he was, and that they will help you get through this. He helped you with your suitcases into the building, up the stairs to the first floor, and into the first door on the right. Apartment 1A. The door was wide open, a man inside with a basket of cleaning supplies and a mop bucket, finishing up on mopping the linoleum floor.

It’s a room. A bathroom immediately across from the door, next to the small built in double door closet, an open floor plan living/sleeping area that housed a queen-sized bed, a love seat and a coffee table, and an eat-in kitchen separated by a collapsible door. It’s a hell of a difference from the posh condo you were just living in yesterday, but at least you will have a roof over your head.

Maria helped you unpack while the other man continued doing some last-minute cleaning. Tommy had gone to get some food for the three of you. Silence and depression must have oozed from you, enough to make Maria stop unpacking and sit with you on the love seat, her hand holding yours. The two of you just sat there quietly, eyes on each other, Maria silently telling you she will be here for you no matter what.

The man broke the surprisingly comfortable silence. He told you the only window in the room was stuck, but he will be back the next day to fix it. Also, the laundry room was downstairs, just to the left of the mailboxes, and if you needed anything, he lived right below you, just knock on his door or call him, and he will help you out in any way he could. Maria looked at him disbelievingly, as if she couldn’t believe her ears.

You thank him, asking for his name. He gave you his card.

“Joel, Joel Miller.”

And he quickly left the room, avoiding Maria’s judgmental eyes. Miller, oh, this is Tommy’s brother, you think.

When Tommy returned, the three of you ate silently, the two of them not knowing what to say to you. Tommy was quietly seething, unable to believe the man you dedicated the last ten years of your life to would do this to you. Before he left, he told you to call him or Maria, or even Joel if you needed anything. But you remember, you no longer had a phone. He even took that away from you.

When Maria took you to get a new phone, your credit card was declined. Your account had been frozen. The clinic you went to for your fever told you your health insurance had been cancelled. You had to use the cash you had to pay for a new phone and decided that buying Tylenol was cheaper than getting checked up.

He had worked fast. You had not even been out of the house for 24 hours and he had taken every comfort you had away from you. You went to sleep that night with your pillows wet from your tears. Ten years. And he just pulled the rug out from under you.

---

You met Max when you were at the teacher’s training college. He was a barista at the café you frequented, his good looks and charm quickly capturing your attention. You were inseparable since then, and when you graduated, he moved with you to the small town you were teaching at. Work was scarce for him, so when he told you he wanted to go back to school and earn his degree in business management, you fully supported it. He went to school during the day, and bartended at night, while you took a waitressing job at the same place he worked at after school ended, and a bookstore during the weekends to make ends meet.

When he graduated, with well-paying jobs still being scarce in a small town, he persuaded you to move to a bigger city, where job prospects for him would be better. You moved to the city with him, where he quickly got a job at a small marketing company, his pay was not much and both of you had to take other jobs to make ends meet. You were still teaching at a school just on the edge of the city, doing your master’s degree part time. He fully supported your decision to further yourself, knowing that you have bigger dreams to teach at a university one day. You lived in a small one-bedroomed apartment, not much, but just enough for the two of you. Your life was going well, despite money being tight.

When the company he worked for went out of business, he told you that a couple of his coworkers were getting some money together to start their own company, some of the clients from their old job had already agreed to be their first clients. It was all a go, except he needed help with some seed money, he’s about ten thousand dollars short.

Your late mother had been a frugal woman, being a single mother had made her very careful with money, a trait she had passed down to you, along with her savings when she passed. You have the money, but it would wipe out your savings. Your conscience was telling you no, do not give him the money. Be careful! But you were in love. And he really was all you had left, so you gave it to him. Max was grateful, he worked hard, money was tight that first year, but things were looking up. His earnings increased, you both could afford to let go of your other jobs, and you managed to graduate with a master’s degree on time, with no loans to your name.

As time went by, his company started doing very well indeed. You expressed your desire to pursue your doctorate, and he was more than supportive. He suggested you become a full-time student, after all, you did support him when he needed you, so why not quit your job? He could easily support both of you. His income was now more than ten times yours anyway, you have access to the joint account, might as well go full on. Let him take care of you, please? So, you did. You enrolled at a university a little over ten miles from your new shiny luxurious condo and became a full time PhD candidate.

Max, being so busy with his company flourishing, was seldom home. He bought you nice things, took you on vacations, all in the name of thanking you for being there for him when he had nothing. But being raised in a humble home, you weren’t looking for luxuries, only his time and attention, which he promised you will have once things settle down a bit. Being home alone in a big condo that had a foyer bigger than your entire first apartment together was unnerving, so you rented a study room at the university, a small room where you could do your work comfortably, without distractions whenever Max told you he would be late coming home.

And that was where Frank found you this morning.

You had arrived home the night before to your two suitcases outside your door, Max and his smirking secretary Esther demanding you hand over your keys, jewelry and phone. You came to this house that HE bought with two suitcases of clothes, he said. You leave with them only. Leave everything he bought for you behind. You were blindsided. You did not see this coming. Despite him being busy, his attention to you had never wavered. He was the same loving man you met all those years ago. Sexually, he had never given you doubt that he was still attracted to you. So, you asked him, why?

He said he wanted wife material. Someone to wait for him at home, not someone who was so ambitious they couldn’t stop getting degree after degree. What was the point of spending the rest of his life with someone who could only think about furthering themselves and not giving themselves fully to him? He wanted a wife, a family, and Esther was willing to give him that, he said, while she smugly caressed her lower stomach.

Oh. Oh…

He had always said marriage can wait. Babies can wait. Let’s focus on the business and your studies first. Get yourselves sorted, and then we can talk marriage and family. But clearly, he just didn’t want them with you. You reminded him through tears that you had always been there for him, that you had helped build his business from the ground up. He smirked, went inside, came back out and tossed a wad of cash at you.

Ten thousand dollars.

And shut the door.

---

Joel was folding his laundry when you came in, your laundry just bunched in your hand instead of a basket, having only moved in with your suitcases. He rushed towards you with a spare basket, and you thanked him quietly, your face still pale and your body weak. You still had a temperature, but you just wanted to get yourself sorted. You did your laundry quietly, mentally calculating the amount of money you had, silently budgeting, trying to figure out how to stretch the amount unceremoniously thrown at you as much as you can. The RA position Frank had gotten you will help, but not much. By your calculation, you had another year at the most before your dissertation was completed, so you needed to figure out how to get by until then, so you can graduate on time.

You just felt so stupid. You let him handle everything, thinking that your love was strong enough, that you were a solid couple. You let him talk you into quitting your job. Into having a joint account that you no longer contributed to since you were no longer working. You stood there, leaning against the folding table in the laundry room, watching your laundry go round and round in the machine.

Joel watched you silently. He wondered what you were thinking about. He had been where you were, albeit the situation may have been different. He remembered the first few months after Laura pulled the rug from under him, how hopeless he had felt, how stupid, how meaningless life had been. If not for Tommy and Maria, he would have drowned at the bottom of a bottle long ago. He wanted to say something to you, to let you know everything will be alright, but it was not in his nature to speak to women he hardly knew, let alone one in your situation. He was a man of action, not one of many words.

He watched you as you looked at your laundry in the machine, eyes looking but not really. He knew you were not really there. He knew how impossible it was for someone in your situation to think about other things, no matter how hard you tried. He worried for you, which was not like him. He only knew your first name, rental agreements hadn’t even been signed yet, Tommy insisting all that can be taken care of later. Joel placed all his laundry in his basket before taking another glance in your direction.

You were not there.

He walked around the table, and saw you on the floor, passed out.

Joel didn’t hesitate, picking you up and taking you to his truck. He called Tommy on the way, driving the four miles to the university emergency room – why does this place have to be so huge???? When they asked him for her insurance information, he told them he would pay for the treatment, giving them your first name, placing his credit card on the counter. He waited nervously outside while they checked you out, filling in the situation to Tommy, Maria, Frank and his husband Bill when they got there.

The doctor came outside, calling for Joel. All of them stood up, Joel stepping forward to talk to the doctor.

“Your wife is fine, Mr. Miller. She is just dehydrated and has a slight temperature. She can leave in a little bit. You can go in to see her if you want, but first, congratulations Mr. Miller, you are going to be a father.”

---

You couldn’t process it. You were pregnant. How? You were on birth control. Just your luck to still get knocked up despite your efforts to be safe. And the father of your child had just dumped you for his secretary, who was also pregnant with his child. Shit, you should get tested. Who knows where else he’d been dipping his wick. And you need to get insured. Shit. You had no insurance. How much was this going to cost? And oh God, you’re going to have a baby. How much do babies cost? How much would the check-ups be? You still hadn’t paid the deposit and first and last month for your apartment. And now this too. Shit. Why did they take you to the ER? Did they call an ambulance?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You couldn’t catch your breath. The machines started beeping. Shit, calm down. No, no, no, no, no… more procedures, more money down the drain. Money you didn’t have. You quickly pull the heart rate thingy off your finger. But the beeping didn’t stop. The wires on your chest. You ripped those off too. No. No unnecessary procedures. You knew what was wrong with you. But the nurses were there at the first warning of the machines, they pushed your shoulder onto the bed when you tried to get up. No. No, no, no, no, no. You saw the needle. Shit. How much would that cost you now? No. No!!!

Everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes, you were no longer in the treatment room in the ER. You were in a room, a ward, and it was dark outside. There was only one bed, there were still wires on you but none on your chest, thankfully. Just that blasted heart rate thingy pinching your forefinger. You pulled it off. Your throat felt so dry, despite the hanging IV bag that was uncomfortably connected to your hand. You needed to pee. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to sit up, your feet hanging off the bed. You stood up, one hand on the IV drip stand, took a step and immediately felt woozy.

A pair of warm hands suddenly appeared on your waist, steadying you. You turned around, your eyes meeting a pair of sleepy brown eyes that you had only seen a couple of times. His clothes crumpled, his hair tousled and his face showing evidence of uncomfortable sleep all over.

You took a step back from him, almost toppling over in the process, but he tightened his hold of you, one hand letting go of your waist and taking your arm instead. He told you not to freak out. It’s only him. His voice was rough from being awoken so suddenly, but you suddenly relaxed. Something about his voice was so calming to you, but you couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

Once you had steadied yourself, he let go of you. You went to the bathroom to relieve yourself, and when you came out, he was sitting in the chair to the left of the bed, which explained why you didn’t notice his presence. He helped you back to bed and gave you some water. You were so thirsty you drank three full glasses before you placed the glass down on the cabinet next to your bed.

“What happened? Why am I warded?”

“You had a panic attack. They had to sedate you, keep your overnight to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m pregnant,” you said slowly, remembering what happened.

He nodded. You covered your face with your hands, tears falling so suddenly even you were surprised by its presence. Your knees came up to your chest, and you hugged them, rocking your body slightly, processing the realization. Joel got up to his feet, his hands twitching, as if he wanted to comfort you but didn’t know how. He let you cry. His eyes averted slightly, giving you some privacy, flicking back towards you every now and again to make sure you were alright. He finally settled back down when you wiped your face clean with your gown and took a deep breath.

“Why have you stayed here with me Joel?”

“They wouldn’t let Maria stay – she’s not family. And since I brought you in, they thought I was the father. Someone should stay with you, make sure you’re okay.”

Oh.

“It’s okay if you want to go, Joel. I’ll be alright. I’m not your responsibility. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable sleeping in your own bed.”

“I’m already here,” he said with a shrug. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, before he told you to lie back down and get some rest, but not before he made you drink more water. When you woke up, Joel wasn’t there. The nurses were fussing over you, taking your blood pressure, checking your temperature, before a doctor came in with more nurses and some interns, an ultrasound machine wheeled in behind her.

“Good morning, Julia, I’m Dr Servopoulos, but you can call me Tess. I’m here to do your ultrasound. Would you be okay with my interns being here to learn?” she asked, a smile on her face.

You nodded. Tess pointed at one of the interns who began to read your patient history, when Joel came back in, a paper bag in one hand, a tray with two to go cups in the other. He stopped when he saw the crowd of doctors around your bed.

“Oh, I’ll wait outside,” he began retreating.

“Is he the father? If so, he can stay,” Tess said, looking at you.

You looked at Joel, remembering what he told you last night. You nodded. You offered him your hand. He didn’t hesitate, taking it after placing the bag and cups on the chair he spent the night in. You knew this was not appropriate. You had only known him for a couple of days. But you were really scared, you didn’t want to be alone for this. You will apologize to him later, you thought. But he didn’t seem to mind, sandwiching the hand you offered him between both of his. Why did this feel so right? His hands were warm, the comfort they brought spreading throughout your body, and suddenly you didn’t feel so scared anymore.

When Tess lifted your gown up to prepare for the ultrasound, Joel averted his eyes, he moved further up to stand beside your head, his hands still clasping yours. You looked up at him, your face scrunched slightly when an intern squirted cold gel on your belly before the fart-like sound of the almost empty bottle made you snicker like a child. The young lady was persistent, determined to get every last drop of gel from the bottle, making more and more fart noises, causing you to lose control and started laughing out loud. He lost it when you snorted, letting out a full belly laugh along with you, making you forget you didn’t know this man at all. The doctors couldn’t help but laugh along. Even Tess, who must have done this a million times, was wiping tears from her eyes.

When the tiny bean of a baby appeared on the screen, you stopped laughing.

“There’s your baby Mom, Dad,” Tess said, pointing at the screen.

You felt all your problems melt away. You had a baby in your belly, this was real. You were pregnant. You felt Joel’s hand tighten around yours, and you squeezed back without thinking.

“Looks like you are about seven to eight weeks along,” Tess continued. “Let’s see if we can hear the heartbeat.”

She clicked on some buttons and maneuvered the wand around a bit and the room was suddenly filled with the whoosh whooshing sounds of your baby’s heartbeat.

Your sight suddenly went blurry. Uncontrollable tears filling them to the brim. Despite the tears, you couldn’t help smiling. You couldn’t take your eyes off the screen. You were pulled from your haze when you felt a pair of whiskered lips touch your temple. You looked up at Joel, a wide smile on his face, his teary eyes glued to the screen, just like yours were.

After you were cleaned up, Tess talked to both of you about pre-natal care, telling you your due date, and setting up the next appointment. The whole time, Joel’s hand never left yours, and you were in no hurry to let go either. His presence was welcomed. He calmed you down, although you had no idea why.

After the doctors left, the two of you settled back down, Joel finally letting your hand go. He brought tea for you, and some pastries from the café downstairs. After he helped you eat your own provided breakfast, he put the cups and plates away, before sitting back down, and began apologizing to you.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“Getting carried away,” he said, his eyes on his own feet, referring to the kiss on your temple. “Thank you for letting me share that with you. It was a special time. I know you would’ve preferred to share that with the father and not some strange man you have just met,” he said quietly.

It was then that it hit you, you didn’t even think about Max throughout all that wonderful experience. It was as if your body and soul had accepted that you would be alone in this, even if you hadn’t decided if you were going to let him know about the baby yet. You assured him it was alright and thanked him in turn for being there for you. He didn’t need to, but he did, and you had a wonderful first check-up as a result.

Maria and Frank called, wanting to come by to check up on you, but you had already been discharged, so they agreed to come visit at the apartment instead. Joel took care of the bill and took you to your new home. He made a point to keep the bill out of your reach. When he cut the engine and ran out to open your door for you, you took the bill out of the console and quickly hid it under your shirt. You needed to pay him back. For your own peace of mind. When Frank and Bill and Tommy and Maria arrived, Joel left the five of you to talk. Only then did you open the envelope. The bill was over several pages, along with a copy of the ultrasound. You took it off the clip, and studied the bill.

Your heart skipped a beat at the amount displayed. For one night? Shit. What are you going to do?

Maria took the bill, looked at it and gave it to Tommy, who glanced at it before pocketing it. But they all knew what you were thinking. Bill, ever the no nonsense lawyer that he was, looked you straight in the eyes and asked you if you were going to call Max. He told you that it would be entirely up to you, of course, but they think you should, and see how it would go from there. If he agreed to take responsibility, at least you wouldn’t be burdened by the medical costs and anything else the baby needs alone – lord knows that man could afford it. But if he didn’t, then maybe that’ll just hammer down the reality of what an asshole he really was, and you could move on from there, with their help.

In your heart, you knew you wanted to tell him. He was the love of your life for ten years. This was the baby you two made together, with love. You may not have planned this, but the love was real, at least on your part. That night, you thought about what it would have been like to find out about the baby if you two were still together. Would he have been happy? Would he have hugged you and kissed you and cried tears of joy? One part of you would like to believe so, but your mind kept flashing back to the way he dumped you. Without warning. Cold. Smug. Uncaring. He didn’t even care that you wouldn’t have any way to contact an uber or a taxi, he didn’t care that it was raining and cold. It was as if the last ten years didn’t happen. And ten thousand dollars was all he thought you were worth after all those years you helped support him. And you couldn’t get the sneering look in his eyes when he tossed the money at you, like you meant nothing to him, not even yesterday’s garbage.

But Bill was right. He should know. It was his baby, after all. And even if you were heartbroken, you didn’t have the heart to keep a baby away from its father. So, if he decided to be in the baby’s life, you would let him.

So there you were, with Bill, Frank, Tommy, Maria and Joel by your side, standing in front of his condo entrance. The guards wouldn’t let you in, their faces apologetic, but they were only doing their jobs. When he drove up, Max got out of the car aggressively, asking you what you wanted. Didn’t he make himself clear? You were no longer welcome there. Behind him, Esther got out of the car, her face clearly annoyed that you were there.

“I’m pregnant, Max.”

He froze. “What?” His eyes searched your face and body, he took a tentative step towards you. “You’re pregnant?” a small smile graced his face.

For a moment, you thought he was going to hug you.

But his smile faltered, and his eyes turned cold again. “How do I even know that’s mine? Or that you’re not lying? You spend all day on campus. How do I know you haven’t been whoring around? How do I know you’re not just saying this to trap me?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. He’s the one who left you for someone else, but he’s accusing you of sleeping around? No. You can see Tommy and Joel taking a step towards you in your periphery, but a blurry figure got in front of you first, and a resounding smack hit your face.

Esther was screaming at you, calling you a gold digger. A scorned woman. A used up old bitch. Why couldn’t you just accept that he doesn’t want you anymore? Why would you break up a family? Let it go, bitch, let it go. He’s mine now. Go and hide among your books and let us live our lives in peace. How dare you try to take him away from me? As if you could ever. Look in the mirror, slut!

At this point, Maria pulled you away, walking you to her car. Joel, Tommy and Frank followed. Bill handed a stunned Max his card, telling him to contact his office when he made up his mind. Esther was still screaming. Throwing her shoe your way, calling you every name in the book. But you didn’t even hear her at this point, Max’s accusatory words lingering in your ears.

Bill came to see you in your study room a week later, an envelope in his hands. Max had contacted his office. He enclosed a cheque with enough money to pay for your studies, health insurance and rent for a whole year, which would be enough for you to get back on your feet, under the condition that you sign a document relinquishing him of all his fatherly commitments to the baby you were carrying forever.

You didn’t even blink when you signed the document, despite Bill and Frank’s protests. Were you proud that you took his money? No. But he had hurt you so much at this point, you just wanted to be rid of him. Why worry for someone who didn’t want you anymore? Your mother raised you alone. You could do it too. You had a life to start living again, a doctorate to finish, and a baby to grow and eventually, raise.

Alone.

Part 2

[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.

[187days]

Day Sixty-Five

The Global Studies lesson I planned and the one I ended up teaching were very much not the same. I mean, the first part was the same; I went over the assignment students had done yesterday (identifying the Buddhist, Confucian, and/or Taoist influences on various customs ), then I showed the semi-sad but super-sweet Let's Eat. It's an animated short about a mother and daughter in a Chinese-American family, and students were able to identify the Buddhist, Confucian, and/or Taoist influences on that, too. Originally, they were going to do the same thing with an article about daily life in East Asian high schools, but South Korea went through six hours of martial law, so I seized the teachable moment instead.

I showed about ten minutes of BBC coverage because not all my students were aware of what had happened. I took questions, too, to make sure they understood it all. Then we discussed what the founders of those belief systems we've been studying- particularly Confucius- would have said about what had happened.

So look at me driving a point home with some real-world relevance!

I'm a wizard.

We also talked about South Korea in APGOV, and about the demonstrations in Georgia, too. Then I taught my regularly scheduled lesson: some MCQ practice on civil liberties and an intro to civil rights. I asked students to tell me what they already knew about the civil rights movement and was pleasantly surprised to find out they knew quite a bit more than students in previous years. Definitely need to give props to the American Studies teachers for that.

We got into a great- and sometimes wild- discussion about the eighteen states in which I'd lose my license for teaching about civil rights movement the way I'm going to teach. I told them we'd come back to this point at the end of the unit, and then they can decide if I've taught them anything that warrants that kind of response.

Some of the students who are on the indoor track team were still buzzing about that at practice, and it's such a win when students are talking about your class after your class is over, so I was happy to continue talking to them. It's good for recruiting potential students for next year, too! But, of course, we're not just there to chat. The Head Coach and I had them train hard today: a mile run for the distance runners, plyo drills for everyone else; an intense stair workout; flexibility drills; a cool down. They were good and tired by the end of it.

But if the snow comes tonight like it's forecasted to, maybe we'll all get to sleep in tomorrow!

[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.  

[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.